#i am so anxious and nervous I can’t eat or think without feeling like drowning so i am hyperfixating on percy jackson

[jinnies-lamps]

I will finish entire percy jackson series until end of this sunday.

[happyselves]

Private Fansign { Daniel Ricciardo x reader one shot }

You are a fan of Daniel Ricciardo and everyone around you knew that so they weren't really surprised when you announced that you were going to go to the next GP at Spa Francorchamps. What they didn't know is that you were one of the lucky fans to have a private conversation with mister Ricciardo himself and you didn't know how to react to that. You weren't even sure to be able to say anything to him and as the day was getting closer you were getting anxious. You could do it, he was a normal human being after all, no ? A very sexy and attractive human being you might add. Fuck you were so fucked up.

The day is here, it was today the day you will meet him, Thursday, media day. How to dress ? You didn't want to be all " pretty " . You wanted to be you, be like nothing was happening, like how you were everyday. You end up driving alone to the circuit because after all who would come to the circuit on a Thursday, it wasn't really interesting, but for you this 20mn ride was hell, you thought again and again about so many scenarios of what will happen. Obviously you couldn't find one that would make perfect sense and your mind was wandering everywhere.

As you came in front of the paddock gate, someone asked you who you were and of course they didn't know so they had to call someone from the team to come and make sure you were allowed in as it was close for fans, especially on media day. Apparently you were the last one to arrive which mean that you will be the last one to see Daniel, which didn't help you in your affair cause that would mean more time to stress beforehand, but the Pr assistant told you in your ears that it might also mean more time with him and your anxiety level went to the top and beyond.

You've waited for what felt like hours, seeing everyone getting out of Daniel's driver room all happy and content with the moment they shared with the famous australian. Finally after 2 hours it was your turn and you were feeling bad for him now. He had to spend all those time with everyone when he should be relaxing and you felt out of place here. As you knocked on his door he opened the door, the biggest smile on his face like he didn't spend this much time repeating the same thing other and another to every fan he meets. You knew you only had like 20mn with him but it was already too much for you, you didn't know how your heart would take it this far between the guilt of using his time and your selfish excitement to finally have him in front of you. He was perfect, even more perfect than on tv or on picture. You were stunned by his beauty and how muscular he was. You couldn't find your words and he had to speak first.

Dan : Hi, You are " YN " right ?

He knew your name ... of course he knew your name, you bet his assistant told him before. You didn't know how you found the courage to stumble and respond to him.

You : ahhh yeah that's me hi nice ... nice to meet you

Dan was smiling so brightly, he made a gesture for you to sit next to him on the couch and you did as he asked.

Dan : So how is it going for you ? Ready for the weekend ?

Okay it was time to build up character here and be who you are, be a strong person and be confident in order to have a normal conversation with him, like you told yourself for weeks now, he is a human being like you.

You : Well I'm doing good, really looking forward to this weekend.

Dan : Nice, do you have any for me ?

You had so many questions for him, but you also wanted to be honest with him and honest with you.

You : Well I do but honestly I don't really want to bother with them, you must feel exhausted after speaking with everyone and I really don't want to be one of those. I never thought I would have won this contest for meeting you as I entered it, but here I am in front and I can't even say two words without sputtering.

His eyes grew bigger as he looked at you for the first time, you pierced him, really saw how he was right there and that cut him off guard and now he was intrigued and was fully awake for you.

DAN POV :

She wasn't like the others fans, she looked like one of them, but she had no filter, she saw how tired I was and she looks at me with her two eyes, her two beautiful hungry eyes, beautiful shape, beautiful color that I drown myself in them for a second before snapping back to reality. I need to distract myself, I need to change, to eat something, I need to focus on something else other than her eyes, or her body or her lips ... oh god her lips, gorgeous lips, very plump lips. No nope not happening Daniel no you need no woman will distract you this weekend. Not that they were already distracting me cause it's been a while since I .... NOOOO

You POV :

He stood up abruptly,surprising me in the process, looking confused. He had a nervous giggle.

Dan : Oh that's very nice of you, I'm fine don't worry ... I just remember that I need to change my shirt because I will have the press conference after our talk and ...

You stop him mid sentence.

You : Go ahead, it's okay It's not like I never saw a man shirtless before.

The fuck did you just say that, very suttle, very no filter of you, lord nice one. When you were flirting with him now, you couldn't stop yourself wouldn't you ? You almost had a boyfriend, but Daniel ... Daniel was unique and he was on your list ... Yeah you know the list of them you could cheat with without feeling guilty. Ohh come one mind why are you thinking about this right now. You looked at him turn himself so quick, hiding himself from some blushing of embarrassment, embarrassment was more like it.

Daniel POV :

Oh fucking hell, I was biting my lips so hard right now, hiding my face for her not to see that I like it, I like every words that was coming out of her mouth. She is getting so interesting and is already making my day worth it. And I was about to make hers cause I definitely saw that she was looking at me like I was a target. She is straight forward without noticing it, her body is speaking for her.

You POV :

He took off his merch shirt and the only thing you could focus on was his back, his muscles. As you were licking your lips to water them because he makes them dry off, you've met his gaze in the mirror. Crap .. You look away so quickly and he notices it, but your eyes bring themselves to him again, your head tilting as if you were watching some beautiful art in a museum and this time when his eyes meet you again you don't flinch, instead you sustain your eyes to him. What was happening to you, that's not you, it's your inner self talking there, the woman that was finding this man hot and sexy and perfectly at your taste. He was going for it too,you noticed that the tension between you two was waking up . Not what you were expecting at all even after all these scenarios you had running in your head earlier.His aura was so attractive and you really hoped at this moment that you were the only one with whom he had this weird feeling and weird connection. Jealousy you weren't sure yet but it was bothering you to imagine him being flirty with other people even if you knew the character that he was. He took his time to put on his team shirt and you were enjoying every second of the show he was offering you. As he was trying to put his polo on you noticed his face making some grins ... he had some bad tension on his neck and shoulder and you were feeling bad for him because he will have to wait again before his coach will be able to give him some relief massage. The thought of you having a degree in physiotherapy and being able to help him came through your mind. You stood up and went behind him, he was still looking at you in the mirror, wondering in his gaze.

You : Just don't move, I know what I am doing, I know it's not my place to do that because you have your coach and all, but you can't stay with tension in your muscles, remove the shirt.

You were giving him an order and he was weirdly glad to obey you. You put your cold hand on his neck, started to massage him and he felt the tension leaving his body right away and couldn't help but close his eyes and moaned. That excited you so much, that sound, you wanted to hear it more and it was really starting to get hot in here. Your hands were getting warmer as you worked your way on his back to massage him, he was feeling so relaxed now and you could technically stop now but your hands weren't moving, instead your massage was turning into caress on his skin making him shiver. You were probably insane for doing what you were doing but you wanted to taste his skin so much that your lips connect to the back of his neck and going down to his trapezius muscle, his eyes still shut, his mouth opening, his head tilting, all these signals were screaming green light for you to continue. After all it is scientifically proven that love language could release the tension in the muscle. You start kissing his back, following the line down his spin before going up again to kiss his shoulder. Your mind wasn't thinking anything anymore and you didn't care at all what could happen next or if you had to be surprised, you wanted him,not you as a fan wanted her favorite driver but you as a woman wanted this man in front of you.

Dan : You need to stop before I do something you might regret.

He was breathless, his words came out more in whispers than anything else and you couldn't get enough of it.

You : I think I will go to hell anyway.

He turns so abruptly, catching you by the neck and bringing you closer to him, connecting your lips in a crash, literally eating you alive. All that passion burning was leaving in this kiss, he was catching your lips making it his, biting them or more like torturing them until they were on the verge of bleeding. This man must have some serious sexual tension going on down there for so long and he was finally freeing it all. That was good cause you too needed to blow some steam, you just never thought it would be with Daniel Ricciardo. You felt him getting away from you, loosen up his grip on you, before suddenly opening his eyes, realising what he just did.

Dan : I am so so sorry, this is ...

You : Shhh don't that's on me I shouldn't massage you, I know that as a physio, releasing tension can provoke some reaction, releasing lust and desire, that's really on me.

Dan : Still I shouldn't have changed in front of you in the first place.

You were too far gone now for not being honest.

You : I like the view thought and I still enjoy it

You were looking at his trail going down to his belt, playing with his hair there, looking at him all innocent where inside you were burning for him.

Dan : You are making it very difficult for me to stop things here, I knew you were trouble as soon as I saw you enter that room. I really wanna kiss you again really but I need to change and go, trust me I didn't plan this at all and I would love to stay here with you and take care of this * putting at his well awake bulge * but I have an obligation.

You were pouting now, very sad but you understand, and you let him go.

Dan : Oh don't look at me like that, I already miss your touch, your fingers are magic and I swear I should fire Michael right now and have you as my new coach but I feel like we wouldn't do the right kind of training for you and I.

You were both laughing now, it was the truth, something about this man was attracting you in a way that nobody could understand and you felt he was living the same experience as you.

You : Well I'm here all weekend, all by myself, I wouldn't do that normally because that's not me, but I'm gonna shoot my shot. There is my number here and the address of where my hotel is, just ask for my name at the reception and I'm sure they will let you know my room number.

He was smiling as you gave him a piece of paper with the information on it.

Dan : There are so many women trying to get into my bed, but rarely are thoses who let me come into their, you are the unique one and you will be the only exception, I will text you the hours okay.

You were back to your flirty but shy self, almost childish self.

You : Well I hope you will like some sweets cause I'm planning on ordering strawberries.

You were obviously referring to that picture of him eating strawberries in his garage, making him understand that you are having some thoughts about a night together with him and he was getting excited just by the thought of it.

Dan : Well I believe I do.

You both heard an assistant of his calling him outside to the room, his cut to go and leave you, before he could say anything you just took your thing and head to the door but before leaving him with himself and his thought you slightly turned toward him one last time.

You : Well Mr Ricciardo, it was such a nice delight to meet you, did I ever tell you, you were my favorite driver ?

And then you left him with a smile on your face and a smirk on him. For sure he knows now you were but did you both know that at that moment you were becoming the favorite person of each other ? How can a private fansign like that could end up changing your life forever ? You didn't even get an autograph, what a shame, you needed to make sure he would make up for that later and add an extra to it for the inconvenience.

Masterlist

[threeminutesoflife]

Have You Any Wool?

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale x Reader Warning: 18+, dub/con, manhandling/rough sex, breath play/choking, unprotected sex Summary: Engagement dinner with Ransom doesn't go as planned Word Count: 3.2k

The car ride home was silent, tense. The car bounced causing Ransom to grumble when it caught the edge of a pothole. One more thing that was surely your fault.

Ten more minutes passed until Ransom broke the silence by revisiting the earlier accusation, “You were flirting with him. Might as well have pulled your top down when talking to that fucking prick.”

“If I exposed my tits every time I talked to a prick, I’d constantly be topless around you.”

Ransom shot you a glare as the car whipped the curve out of the city and down a remote road, “It’d be safer for you to only be concerned about my prick.”

Your fingers dug into the car door as he straightened out the vehicle, “What did you-”

“Smarter. It’d be smarter for you to only be concerned about me- and my huge prick.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you- there was no flirting.”

“Could have fucking fooled me with those exchanges tossed around.”

“What the hell, Ransom, you’re ridiculous. There were no secret coded exchanges. Nothing said was of value.”

“Sure. Nothing. Whatever you say.” You didn’t have to look at your boyfriend to know he rolled his eyes at least twice when spitting out those words.

“What is wrong with you? Whatever untrue scene you cooked up in your crazy head- knock it off.”

Ransom scoffed out your name, “I know what I fucking saw.”

“Oh my god-“

“No, I’m Ransom. Your boyfriend,” his eyes staying on the road as he spoke heatedly at you, “but I know how you’ve recently become confused on our roles to each other. So let me break it down- really fucking simply for you. I don’t loan my toys out for others to play with.”

“Fucking hell, Ransom-“

“Hugh… I think, I’ll have you address me as Hugh from now on.”

Taking your beaded clutch, you smacked Ransom’s bicep, “How about I call you ‘asshole’ and tell you to lose my number!”

Ransom growled and grabbed your purse as he weaved along the isolated lane. Taking the clutch, he smacked your thigh in return and tossed it out his window.

You screeched seeing your belongings fly across the wooded night sky, “Are you insane?! Pullover! Pullover right the fuck now! Everything I have is in there!”

Ransom pressed down harder on the gas pedal, propelling you back against your seat. “You have me- that’s all that fucking matters. Fran can play fetch and get it tomorrow.”

“You can’t just order her- Ugh- Pull over right now, Ransom! Goddammit, you’re unbelievable! I need my keys, my phone, my fucking wallet! It’s all in there, you asshole!”

Ransom only picked out one thing from your rant, “I’m the asshole? What kind of grade A bullshit are you feeding yourself to believe that? You were the one flirting with someone in right front of me. I don’t need to be in this relationship, you know. Plenty of people want me.”

Your eyes narrowed at that, “Then let me out here if that’s how you really feel, asshole.”

Ransom ignored your challenge and the look you shot him to smugly add, “Besides, seems like you’re up shit’s creek without a paddle. No keys? Guess you need me pretty fucking badly now.”

He squeezed your thigh and slid he hand down closer to the apex of your thighs.

“Are you crazy?” You pushed his hand away and pressed your knees together tightly. “Are you seriously getting off on being a complete shitwad to me? And- hey asshole, look at me- he was the waiter. The waiter. He asked if we wanted dessert. Meaning you and me, Ransom- not him and me. With your sweet tooth, of course I asked about the dessert options! For you, Hugh.”

You flipped his car’s heater on with more force than necessary. Really at this point, all you wanted to do was smash every button and rearrange all his settings into chaos. “All this fighting, you’d think the rage would keep me warm. But no, it’s freezing in here!”

“Maybe try wearing more clothes and not letting your nips slip out to random men.” Ransom flipped the heater off with a smirk, “Should have brought a sweater.”

“I hope you fucking choke on your sweater,” You mumbled as you crossed your arms over your chest, feeling cold and vulnerable.

Ransom arched an eyebrow at your wish and internally gloated when you ran your hands over your arms, trying to warm up.

You refused to acknowledge him, keeping your eyes pointed out the window. “Just take me home. I know you keep my spare key on you.”

Ransom smacked the steering wheel in annoyance with how the evening went, making you slightly flinch.

He had been anxious all day and well-aware he was acting like a dick to you at the moment. But the untouched ring box in his coat pocket felt too heavy for him to speak kindly to anyone tonight, even you.

Ransom had been nervous since picking up the archaic piece of jewelry. A feeling that left him sneering at a weak characteristic of humanity. He wasn’t a soft individual, but he wasn’t as abrasive around you.

He knew he wanted you as soon as you met and rejected him, only then to turn around and tell him to meet you in the restroom at the charity event. He walked in expecting to receive a blowjob and gift you with a beaded necklace. Instead, he was surprised and became more aroused when you lifted up your gown and instructed him to get on his knees and press his lips to yours.

He had this night planned for a long time- the setting, the restaurant, little details ironed and starched out. But when he arrived at the perfect restaurant, he was quickly pulled aside- as perfect you was led away to the perfect table- and was quietly informed that the perfect waiter, who he perfectly coached to ensure the perfect timing, was perfectly out sick.

The stand-in waiter was a shit show, and Ransom was convinced the guy couldn’t even shit in a pile.

Besides being on edge all night from his nerves, Ransom was now on edge from the imbecile who couldn’t time the courses correctly and wouldn’t stop talking to you like you were friends playing twenty questions.

It felt like he was watching the waiter attempt to speed date you, every time circling around your seat with more questions. What are your side dish preferences, would you like more cheese, how about more pepper, would you like your glass refilled?

Were you actually flirting with the waiter? No, you were being a polite customer. But at that point of the night, all Ransom could focus on was the wasted time he spent on the preparations and his perfect proposal going down a perfectly shit-filled toilet.

But then as negativity was drowning Ransom’s thoughts, you did that thing only you could do.

You knew something was wrong with Ransom without having to ask. You took his hand across the table and gave it a light squeeze. A tilt of your head as you bit your lip and smiled endearingly at him. He felt your thumb rub the back of his hand, each graze softer than the last. He felt the sincerity in your smile and saw the concern in your eyes. You treated him in a way that was far better than he deserved- a way he didn’t know he wanted to be treated until meeting you.

And this was it. This was the moment he planned for.

You cemented it with that serene look of adoration for him.

This was right, this was perfect.

He gave a crooked smile and thumbed his pocket for the ring box. Clearing his throat, he softly said your name. Almost too softly, because you half-laughed and looked at him with a look of cute confusion. He held your hand just a little bit tighter, a little bit more desperate. He leaned in closer from across the table and-

The waiter came back and interrupted the moment by asking about dessert. As you pulled your hands away from Ransom, you smiled politely at the waiter. Ransom felt you and your obvious answer of yes slip away from him. And he was pissed.

As the ring grew cold again in the velvet box, he vowed with every bite of the overpriced, sickly-sweet dessert he’d never eat here again.

Ransom shook his head at the tension refilling the car. The ring still stashed away in his coat pocket, teasing him with how it wasn’t warming on your finger.

The ring was still cold, but his annoyance and sweater kept him plenty warm.

He’d make up for the fight later. You were his. You’d forgive him, you always did. But first, finding a small amount of humor in his ill-aimed anger, he turned the air conditioning on. Before you could protest, Ransom flipped on the radio and raised the volume to drown out the inevitable sound of your chattering teeth.

Shifting in your seat to find a comfortable spot, you kicked off your heels. Debating which was worse- cold feet or sore feet? Biting your tongue at Ransom’s childish air conditioning antics, you weren’t about to address him more than you’d have to. You were annoyed with yourself for agreeing to eat at this out-of-the-way restaurant, and even more annoyed at yourself for losing your purse to your and Ransom’s tempers.

---

“This is not my house, Ransom,” you weren’t surprised to see he only drove where he wanted to go.

“Get out, we’re having makeup sex.”

You kept your arms crossed in annoyance and didn’t move. “Wow, so romantic. Hugh Ransom Drysdale, everyone- the last true Renaissance man.”

Ransom inhaled deeply, half-amused and half-not at your dry sense of humor, “Grab your shoes or leave'em, I really don’t care. But your ass is going to be out of this car and cupped in my fucking hands within the next five minutes.”

“I am too fucking cold for these games, Hugh. Some asshole kept the air conditioner on and wouldn’t lend me a sweater. You want us to stop fighting? Fine, we’ve stopped. But we are not fucking. Now take me home.”

“We are home. Get out or I’ll move you, y/n.”

Something about Ransom’s tone made your legs flex and your knees press together. He knew it would draw a reaction from you, it always did. You sat up straighter, your core awaking at the thought of him manhandling and manipulating your body into various positions.

Smugness twisted in Ransom’s smile as he undid your seatbelt, “Look at you rubbing those thighs together, baby. You whine about going home but we both know you’re only going to end up in my bed. If we even make it that far.”

Ransom slammed the driver's door closed and came around to your side as you tried to downplay your interest and focus on your annoyance with him instead.

He opened your door and rested against it, “Out. Before I help you.”

You grabbed a high heel from the floor and pointed it at Ransom with each word, “Leave. Me. Alone.”

Ransom dove at you, grabbing you roughly out of the car, “You’re pissing me off, y/n.”

You yelped when he flung you over his broad shoulder, your stomach pressed painfully into him.

“And I have to say, I fucking like it,” Ransom smacked your ass and kicked the car door close.

The high heel abandoned on the ground as he made his way into the house with you.

He kneaded your freshly spanked cheek, only to smack it again, “Keep screaming. Make a scene. I know you’re wet and ready.”

Ransom dropped you on the bed to bounce about as he took off his sweater and dropped it behind you on the mattress. “Strip.”

Your eyes dart over Ransom’s chest and up to his eyes. You were still miffed with his attitude tonight, but when he became forceful and unpredictable like this- you couldn’t wait for the release.

Ransom kicked your knees apart and stepped one leg in between your open thighs. “I know, my girl. Fuck, I can smell my girl. Strip before I rip it off you.”

You jumped up and caught his face in your hands, crashing your lips against his. Teeth, tongue, bitten lips, all clashing over his; the desperation and hunger for it all felt more like a tactical advance than a romantic gesture.

Ransom pulled away first and chuckled darkly, “It’s always a sexual rollercoaster with you.”

His fingers snaked across the top of your sweetheart neckline and he slid two fingers underneath the material. He kept his eyes on yours as he slowly dipped his fingers up and down along your smooth skin.

Moving his fingers over your clavicle and up your neck, he laid them across your lips as you opened your mouth. Your tongue darted out, circling and wetting his fingers, anticipating him to insert his fingers in your mouth as you parted your lips more.

But he pulled away surprising you, and moved them back down to the top of your dress. Dipping his fingers between your cleavage, the cool air hit your skin along the wet trail he left.

“You’re a stubborn little tease, baby. Now, what did I tell you to do?” His hand came out from the top of your dress to grip the delicate material. Ransom jerked you close to him and bent his knee, your core hitting against his thigh as you stumbled into his chest.

Your eyes closed at the contact, your clit eager for more friction and attention. Biting your lip, you decided to change his command slightly and started undoing his belt. Ransom’s hips jolted out towards you as you tugged the leather lose. His grin widened when you tossed it on the floor and dipped your hands in his boxers.

Reaching behind you, he unzipped your dress. The tips of his fingers lingered down your spine. Ransom leaned into your neck, his teeth slowly nipped and his lips gently bruised your skin as his fingers dug into your hips. The dress pooled around your ankles, his pants followed. You stripped each other bare, a veil of soft intimacy hung around you both.

You cupped Ransom’s cheek with a soft smile, “Hi.”

A furrow started in his brow at your voice and before you had time to think, you were taken by surprise.

Ransom shoved you backwards, disliking the tenderness only you brought out in him.

Your head snapped against the mattress as your legs fell open, pussy glistening. Startled by his abruptness, you shouted out, “Asshole.”

“Oh, we’ll revisit that area again, princess- but I have something planned for you first.”

Ransom grabbed your ankles and yanked you across the bed to him. Gripping your hips, he flipped you over onto your stomach. He ignored your protests and slapped your bottom, sending a jolt through you.

Ransom’s hands ran up the back of your legs, his thumbs dipped between the apex of your wet thighs.

He moved his slick-coated thumbs along the crease of your cheeks, “Go on, keep crying wolf, baby. We both know you like it.”

His words made you involuntarily lift your ass off the bed, welcoming him to tease you more. Pulling you up to his chest, Ransom dropped his arms around the front of your waist and rocked his erection against your ass.

His lips ghosted your ear, his long fingers teased your clit, “Turn over, lay down. You’re going to like this.”

Breaking away from Ransom you dropped to all fours but didn’t refused to move further, and watched him spit and stroke himself over your shoulder.

He looked down at you, an eyebrow raised at your delay, “Fucking stubborn. Fine, I’ll make sure you love this.”

Ransom jumped at you, grabbing your shoulder and collaring your neck. He twisted you over onto your back and pressed his weight into your chest. His hold tightened around your neck and your knees fell apart inviting him closer to your core.

“So beautiful, aren’t you?” He lined himself up to your entrance. “So fucking sure of yourself,” he groaned as he felt you stretch around him. “So fucking sure-”

He pressed his fingers harder into the column of your throat as he pushed himself deeper into you, “I won’t hurt you, much.”

One of your legs hooked around his waist, both of your arms around his torso as he dragged himself in and out of you. You concentrated on your breathing and the chaotic fluttering in your core.

Every push into you, Ransom held your throat tighter; every pull away from you, he loosened his grip.

“You still cold, baby?” Ransom mocked and rolled his hips deep into you.

A mangled moan and a hard press of your heel on his ass was your reply.

“Here,” Ransom rocked back on his heels, pulling you back with him and down onto his cock with a tilt. “Let me warm you up some more.”

His knees dug into the mattress while your bottom was suspended in the air, each ass cheek in Ransom’s hands while your legs were wrapped high around his waist. He watched himself slide in and out of you, glistening. Your moans filled the room and nails bit into his forearms as you matched each other’s pace.

“Fuck.. Ransom..” You patted wildly. “Oh my god...”

He rolled his hips and snapped into you harder, arrogance and pleasure rolling off him.

Keeping himself inside you, Ransom dropped your bottom and bridged himself over you, his arms caging you under him, “Gotta get you warmer, baby.”

Without slowing his pace, he reached for the discarded sweater with one hand and looped it around your neck.

He felt your pussy clench as he made the knot. Your whimper cut off as Ransom tightened the wool sleeve around your throat.

With one hard yank on the sweater, he dove himself deeper in your pussy. Your cervix hurt but you were never wetter.

“That’s it, baby,” Ransom murmured above you, watching your reactions, all your tells, as he fucked you faster. “Fuck! Can feel you trying to milk my cock. So.. close.”

The sweater knotted in his hand as he braced his weight on his elbows. A tighter twist with a dirty roll of his hips. Your ankles locked above his ass as he slammed you over the edge.

“Right there, baby,” Ransom cupped your face, twisted the sweater tighter and roared, “RIGHT... THE... FUCK… THERE!”

Your mouth fell open and vision whitened as you shattered around him, your cunt convulsing and squeezing him. Ransom loosened the sweater and grabbed your face as he rutted into you.

His rhythm lost as he kissed your cheeks and brought you back to him, “So good, baby. My fucking girl.”

You pulled his lips to yours and swallowed his moans as he found his own release in you.

---

Ransom climbed back in bed, the sounds of your steady breathing filled the room as he nestled himself behind you. He pulled your back closer to his chest and slipped his leg between yours. Pressing his thigh against your core, he smirked feeling his dried release still staining your skin. Tomorrow morning, you would notice the ring on your finger. But by then, it would be warm on your skin and remain there. It didn’t matter to Ransom that he hadn’t asked you, you were his.

[honeypirate]

Take me home

Benimaru x f!Y/n

A/n: I just want Beni to have a little slice of something good in his life, okay? 🥺

Your head is pounding, you feel blood pour from your nose and taste the blood on your tongue from your split lip. Your ribs are broken, your skins dry, and you can hardly breathe. You’ve expended all your energy and power and if you used anymore you’d burn up yourself.

“Mother fu..” you go to curse at your attacker but before you can they send an explosion into you again. Knocking you into the next burning building, you didn’t know how you were going to get out of this, you don’t think you can even move anymore. You can hear the evangelist come after you but your eyes are blurry with blood and smoke. You try to push yourself up but you fall back down, hearing the man just laugh maniacally.

That laugh got cut off by what sounded like a punch and another explosion before you lost consciousness.

You’re in darkness, floating, weightless. You’re dreaming but you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes yet. Afraid of what you’ll find when you do. “Y/n... don’t leave me. Not yet” the voice sounded like a prayer. You know that voice. Your eyes fly open in the dream it’s Benimaru you thought to yourself. You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move your body. You could only look around in the dark space where you were floating. What was this place? There were shadows in the darkness that you couldn’t see. Beni. Don’t leave me here alone. You thought again wishing you could wake up and see him. Scream out to him. You don’t know how long it’s been in the darkness of this never ending dream. You can feel warmth in your hand like someone’s holding it and then he’s back. Your Beni is back whispering things in your ear. “Y/n please” his voice sounds scared and like he’s been crying. Beni! I love you! You try to wake up. To grab his hand back. “I love you. Don’t leave me yet.” His voice is quiet like it’s far away. No. I won’t let this happen. Your body feels like it’s on fire before you actually see the flames. They’re so beautiful, reds and purples, it doesn’t even hurt to be in them. They just keep getting brighter and brighter until

The sunlight hitting your face is what woke you up, the hand that clasped yours is what pulled you from the darkness. A voice calling your name pulls you the last little bit to the light “Y/n?” Your eyes flutter open to see the ones you were hoping to see “my Beni” you say with a small smile and your voice cracks from unuse. He helps you sit up and gets you some water. “Where am I?” It didn’t look like your usual hospital and you were confused as you looked around the room. “You’re in the sixth. You really worried me, I had to get you here as soon as possible. Doctor Huang said your fire was strong but you had to fight the rest of the way yourself.” You smile at him when you realize it was him, “you saved me” you say quietly and he looks at his hand which went back to hold yours “I wish I could have found you sooner. I was afraid you’d end up like...like...” you squeeze his hand. You know what he’s gonna say. You very well could have ended up like Konro. “I know” your voice is soft. “I’m sorry to have worried you. I would have been fine but that last guy came out of no where. I had nothing left to give. How long was I out?” he meets your eye “just under a week” you nod and then look away blushing as you say “I had a strange dream of you calling out to me. Telling me not to leave you. And then I was consumed by a beautiful flame. I think... I think you saved me twice. You brought me back again” you feel tears sting your eyes and he hugs you tight, kind of awkward on the bed but you didn’t care. He felt like home and you never wanted him to let you go.

“Don’t you ever do this to me again y/n” you can hear his voice crack and if he pulled away you were sure you’d see him holding back tears

Just then one of his other men came in to get him. He clears his throat and kisses your head, composing himself before pulling back Before he leaves he turns to you and says “when you’re ready, get dressed and come find me in the main office. I have a meeting and then I’ll take you home” you nod and smile at him.

You get up after ten minutes and stretch, the doctor coming in to look at you and make sure everything’s okay. When she comes through the door you bow “Doctor Huang” your voice is respectful and she smiles warmly before looking you over. “You should have seen him. I’ve never seen a man more worried. He really cares about you, you know” you blush a little and pick up your clothes, facing away from her. “I really care about him too” your voice is quiet and she nods once “good. He deserves a good girl like you..” when you turn around she’s gone. You grab your bag, that someone from your company just have brought over with toiletries and other things before heading into the bathroom to shower and clean up. You send a small grateful feeling to whomever brought your things, the shower waking up your body and limbs. Moving around after being unconscious for a week wasn’t really fun and you swore you’d never do it again.

You realize it was one of the girls who packed your things because they remembered to grab your makeup and perfume, no one else would have because no one else knew about your feelings for Benimaru. You laugh when you pull out your favorite pair of leggings that make your butt look it’s best “thank you Maki” you whisper as you slip them on. With a simple black shirt and a pair of black sneakers. You were glad your team knew you so well to give you something comfortable to wear when you woke up. You put everything else in the gym bag and sling it across your body before you head down the office.

Walking up to the main office you see Beni walk from the office along with your Captain and turn your way. You smile when you make eye contact and you can tell if he could he’d run and hug you. You quirked your eyebrows at Obi but he just winked with a laugh and turns the other direction.

Your relationship with Benimaru was complicated. You were from two different companies, he was captain of the seventh and you were a pyrotechnic of the eighth. You only saw each other very rarely. After the second time you fought together he was impressed with you, asked for your number to keep in contact. You talked every day since then and if you were honest you fell in love with him quick. It’s like you could see right through him.

He fell for you slowly, the more he opened up more to you, the more he trusted you, the more he wished he could spend every free moment with you. When he found you in the fire, half dead, almost drowning in your own blood, your skin starting to char. It broke him. He thought he was going to lose you. It straightened all his priorities, his number one of solving combustion and winning against the Evangelists, was now beat by you. He would protect you at all costs now, he would convince you to come be with him, you would fight this war together so he wouldn’t have any regrets with you.

When you reached each other he tucked your hair behind your ear. “Your meeting was with Obi?” You ask and he nodded “I asked him to allow you to come to the seventh.” He took your hand when you and he kissed your knuckles as you started to walk together as he continues “I want you to come work with me.” You chuckle and lift an eyebrow at him “just work with you?” You ask and he clears his throat, he was nervous and it was so cute “no” he said and cleared his throat again, pulling you into an empty room to look into your eyes why he spoke “I want you to live with me, to eat meals with me, to fight by my side, and to let me take care of you. I want you to sleep by my side every night. I can’t be without you anymore. I can’t keep pretending I don’t love you” you press your lips softly into his and he shudders for a moment in shock before he kisses you back hungrily. You pull back and let out a breathy laugh, looking into his eyes “I love you too. Of course I want all of those things with you. Starting with making you dinner.” You kiss him again before saying softly “take me home Beni” he smiles and nods, a blush in his cheeks and his heart overflowing for the first time in what feels like forever. “Let’s go home” he agrees and takes your hand again.

He takes you to your company first, so you can tell your crew your news, if the captain hasn’t already, and pack your things. The girls were excited for you, but they’d miss you terribly and you’d miss them too. You’d miss talking to them about everything. After packing your things in a duffel bag you throw it over your shoulder before heading back out to the company truck Beni was driving.

You hop in and smile at him “okay. Let’s go home and you can show me where to put my things. Since it’s a new place you’ll have to help me cook dinner and since it’s a new crew I’ll make something for everyone so they’ll like me and..” he takes your hand, making you stop and look at him, and he laughs “you’re so adorable. I love you so much. I’ll help you make dinner but let’s do it tomorrow since it’s already late and I’m betting they already ate. ” you calm down, you didn’t even notice you were anxious until he took your hand. But seeing him smile and laugh made you feel lore at ease.

When you got to your new home it was late and everyone has already gone to bed. Beni showed you to your new room which was right next to his then excused himself to go talk to Konro and update him.

You unpack your two bags of things and set up a couple decorations before heading down the hall to find Beni, eager to not spend any more time part. You make your way down the hall to the light that was coming from a sliver in a door but stop when you hear Konro say your name.

“.... like y/n. I’m glad you finally did something about your months of pining Beni. If you didn’t do something about it I would have made my move.” You can imagine what Beni’s face looks like and your suspicions were confirmed when Konro laughs and says “what’s with that face? She’s beautiful” Beni’s voice is stern when he says “yeah and she’s mine now. Off the market” your stomach full of butterflies as you decide to move forward and knock quietly before walking in and smiling at Konro. “Hey long time no see” he says “hey Konro. you’ll be seeing me a lot more now” you say and Beni stands to hug you. “Do you want me to show you around?” Beni asks and you nod “that would be nice” you say and then Beni excuses you both.

In the hallway he takes your hand but when you get to your doors you stop and gently pull him towards you, wrapping your hands around his waist and laying your head on his chest. “Y/n?” He asks with a laugh as he hugs you back “Beni... how about you show me around in the morning and right now you just ...” he pulls back and kisses you, cutting you off. He was feeling the same as you, he just wanted to take you into his room and hold you. He breaks the kiss to catch his breath and says “come on” before gently pulling you into his room.

[sweetestlamb]

Caged Bird

Summary: “I should let him go right?” 

Author’s note: Finally back with another chapter, this one was a bit harder for me than the other chapters because writer’s block was a bish and I kept second guessing myself. I erased so many things and I don’t know if I am even proud of this anymore or if it’s any good LOL but I spent all day writing it so I guess I should post it. I’m not losing motivation but life was beating on my door and I feel like this wasn’t as fleshed out as I wanted it to be but I don’t have the time to flesh it out more and I really didn’t want to go another week without writing, it makes me anxious to leave them unattended for so long.  So if you like anything about this let a girl now. 

“You told him?” Sujin glances over at Su-ah from her place on her bed, her phone idle on the bed, she’s trying not to text a certain someone too much but that is proving easier said then done with him messaging her without any discretion or care about appearances. 

Jukyeong looks knowingly at her phone with a soft smile and she hides the small square too embarrassed even though they hadn’t been talking about anything inappropriate, he was teasing her that she wore his sweaters more than he did these days and asking her if she wanted to go shopping with him so she could pick out exactly which sweater she wanted to steal borrow. She rolls her eyes at the dramatic message, she didn’t take that many of his sweaters, he was just overexaggerating as he was wont to do. She folds the sleeve of her borrowed(thank you very much) sweater over her hands and pointedly avoids looking at the vibrating device. 

She has self control. 

But a second vibration makes her flaunter for a minute, wondering if he’s saying something important he hardly ever double texts these days. She reaches for the phone gasping when it’s suddenly snatched out of her reach. 

“Hey-!” her voice trails off bashfully at the glower on Su-ah’s pretty face, that’s her take no shit face, damn. She sits up straighter giving the girl all her attention lest she become more agitated and try to read the messages, that would be too unsettling. They had both already commented on her recent oversized sweaters, coyly trying to get her to admit to who they truly belonged to. She ignored their teasing and jut her nose in the air each time, they already knew and she refused to give them the satisfaction of saying it out loud. 

“Focus on us for one minute. Your boyfriend can wait.” Su-ah states firmly putting her phone on the small desk behind her and she sputters at the comment, red hot flush barreling down her entire body like a wildfire. 

“He’s not my boyfriend!” She denies vehemently, cheeks burning hotter from the nonplussed looks she receives from her two closest friends, Su-ah looks utterly unimpressed and Jukyeong can barely contain the smile spreading on her full lips, she opens her mouth to argue harder needing to smother the jolt of pure bliss that surfaced in her belly at the other girl’s bold proclamation but the words get firmly lodged in her throat. 

His hands tightly wound around hers, his thumb gently caressing the rough skin of her scarred knuckles. The way she didn’t want to pull away or hide from him, he was looking at her, truly seeing her and instead of fear something warmer spread through her veins. 

Those lips on her forehead, the softest sweetest kiss she had ever received in her life. Nobody had ever held her like she was something precious before but that was how he pressed her to his wide chest, her head nuzzled into his fragrant neck as she drowned in his intoxicating scent nervous to breathe him in too much lest she get lost in his spell. 

The deep rumble of his voice as he called her “baby”, she had always rolled her eyes hearing couples use such supercilious nicknames with each other, what was the point? Why did being in a couple have to mean that you lost your name and essentially a piece of your identity? It was stupid and childish and she wanted nothing to do with such a transgression, or so she had believed. 

Until the moment he called her princess. 

What started out as a tease had transformed into something bigger than she had ever expected, she hated it or so she told herself. But when he called her Sujin in the park she felt like a part of her was missing, she wasn’t just Sujin to him anymore. In that moment she had a grand realization she wasn’t losing herself like she had initially thought but rather gaining another layer, she would always be Sujin and that was enough but she could also be his princess, his baby.  

When had she turned into such a sap? This was all his fault. 

“Hello? Sujin? Are you even listening to me? Hey! Are you seriously fantasizing about your boyfriend right now?” She jumps at Su-ah’s loud voice, slapping a frantic hand over her mouth and looking around as if people will materialize out of thin air. 

“Can you stop saying that word, Suho might hear you!” She stage whispers and Su-ah raises a thin eyebrow at her shoving her hand away. 

“Why are you so red? Did something happen between you two, you can’t hide anything from us! What happened to “we’re just friends”? She blushes redder at Su-ah’s quotation marks and Jukyeong leans forward excitedly, “Have things changed? Did you tell him how you feel? Oh my god, did you guys...kiss?!”

Su-ah stills at Jukyeong’s question before vibrating violently in her seat and grabbing her shoulders shaking her back and forth, “Sujin did you lose your lip virginity? Did you let him deflower you?!” 

Sitting stunned and wide eyed, she stares at her friends expectant faces wondering how the conversation became derailed so quickly? She had invited them both over to explain the Baekyung situation and her conversation with Suho’s father but somehow Seojun had become the star of the night. 

“Are you crazy why would you call it that?” She immediately realizes her mistake when both girls turn to look at each other and simultaneously shriek, “She didn’t deny it!,” and she watches in horror as they jump up and starting dancing around the room, then she groans and tugs the hood of the sweater over her head pulling the drawstrings so she is cocooned in the fabric as they start singing off key, “Sujin kissed Seojun! Sujin kissed Seojun!” 

Instinctively she grabs a fluffy pillow and flings it across the room in a perfect arch before it lands with a soft thud on Jukyeong’s head, time stops as they all stare at each other and then it’s a flurry as the girl picks up the pillow launching it back and that is how Sujin gets involved in her first ever pillow fight. There are pillows flying every which way and Su-ah and Jukyeong gang up on her, shoving her into the bed and playfully smacking her on her stomach and back as she curls up in a ball body shaking from her laughter. 

“Tell us everything and we’ll stop hitting you.” Su-ah promises and she shakes her head in refusal, seconds later she feels a grazing on her sides and she knows what’s coming so she tries to draw away but her means of escape are thwarted by Jukyeong grabbing her by the shoulders and pressing her harder into the bed. 

“Su-ah please don’t. This is evil, I thought we were friends.” She pleads staring up at both with beguiling eyes and for a minute she thinks her puppy eyes have succeeded as both release her, but then she feels a barrage of hands on her side and laughter is forcefully pulled from her body as she twitches in a fit, twisting and turning from the hands but to no avail. She feels tears pooling in her eyes from the sensation and this is how Suho finds them, tangled up and breathless from laughter and he stares at them in shock. 

“When you guys are done...doing this can you please respond to Seojun? He thinks you suddenly got into an accident or got kidnapped because you stopped responding to him.” 

Su-ah turns to her with a look of triumph on her mischievous face, “That sounds like boyfriend behavior to me.” 

Suho doesn’t reply except for a twitch in his lip before he slides the door closed behind him, giving them privacy again. 

She tries not to rush to her phone but her eyes find their eye over to the device all the way across the room, maybe if she runs really quickly she can make it past the two girls and lock herself in the bathroom? 

“I know that look. Whatever crazy plot you’re cooking up is unnecessary, you can have your phone back. I know you two hate to be apart,” Su-ah teases leaning over and then handing her the phone, she stares at it worried that accepting it will be admittance to Su-ah’s claims she hesitates to take it. 

Su-ah takes the choice away from her when she places the phone in her outreached hands, “Don’t keep him waiting.” She holds the phone flat in her palms looking up at both her friends, they have identical smiles on their faces and warmth blossoms in her belly. 

She’s happy, this is what happiness feels like. 

But she’s also overwhelming nervous, she has never done this before, never had someone who made her feel this way. Was it supposed to be this terrifying? Putting the phone down resolutely she turns to her best friends needing their advice. 

“I have no idea what I’m doing.” She admits, feeling small and more than a little bit lost. Instantly she is squished in the middle as they both come to sit by her sandwiching her in between them, twin arms thrown over her shoulders. 

“We know you’re scared but he likes you, everyone can see that. When you’re in a room together it’s like he doesn’t see anyone else, you are always his focal point.” Jukyeong whispers softly placing her head on her shoulder and she wants to deny that but too many images flash in her mind of him doing just that, him dropping everything and racing to her even in the beginning when she had been a mess and constantly pushed him away. Intimate moments at lunch where his eyes hardly leave her as he ardently watches her eat the food that he had prepared just for her, despite countless girls watching him and squealing his name in the distance. 

Everyone had eyes for him, but he only had eyes for....her. 

“What if all of this becomes too much for him and he wants someone normal? Someone who doesn’t have all my baggage? Being with me must get exhausting.” She’s still talking about Seojun but a small piece of her is also directing this statement to them, was being her friend as exhausting? Did they ever consider just abandoning her and finding someone who didn’t have such tiresome issues? 

“You still don’t understand do you?” 

She turns towards Su-ah who blinks wet eyes at her and suddenly her eyes feel moist too. 

“Understand what?” 

“How much you mean to us. All of us. Nobody could ever replace you, we don’t care about your baggage, we want to help you carry it all.” 

She blinks and stares straight ahead, scared of breaking apart. 

Is that how Seojun felt too? Was she worth the trouble to him too? 

When had her life ever been so simple?

They all jump when her phone vibrates again and this time she doesn’t hesitate immediately picking it up, expecting to see another message from the boy in question but instead a new number appears. She stares blankly at first before suddenly recognizing the number. 

“Who’s that?” Su-ah questions, staring at her phone with pursed lips and she swipes the message open. 

Dinner tonight? 

It feels strange to see that message beneath Seojun’s and she finds herself closing it without responding and opening Seojun’s plethora of messages instead. 

I was just joking you can steal all my sweaters. 

Are you still there?

Princess?

Can you answer me so I know you’re alive? 

He is so dramatic, she doesn’t message him for ten minutes and he’s already thinking the worst but then she remembers all the times he has found her helpless and trembling in the rain and his fear makes more sense. Smiling in understanding she finally replies, I’m okay you worrywart. Su-ah and Jukyeong are here, I got distracted. 

ignoring social norm he responds to her immediately not the least bit concerned with appearing too invested. 

Don’t scare me like that. I was about to come over. 

“Sujin are you sure Seojun is okay with you going on dates with Baekyung, that’s who text you right?” Her head snaps up at the question, she bites her lip in consideration. 

“He said he understood. He knows I’m only doing it to help him. But tonight is the last time.” 

She shouldn’t be concerning herself with anyone else’s problems, hers were enough on their own. But she couldn’t help it, the other boy was going through the same ordeal as her and she saw herself in his cold numb eyes, he was existing instead of living. She knew what that felt like. She understood him all too well. 

“Why does he need your help?” Jukyeong asks innocently and she stills before shaking her head, “It’s not my story to tell.” 

They don’t ask anymore questions and she’s grateful for that. 

She has to get ready for her date, she can’t help but wish it was with someone else. She doesn’t even want to call it a date, now that she has someone that she wants to do this all with. 

She looks beautiful, she always does and he wonders if he might have genuinely liked her if they met under different circumstances? He had never learned what it meant to care for someone, too busy trying to survive but she understood him, they had so much in common. He didn’t like her-his heart wasn’t capable of such emotions he was convinced- but he felt a certain kinship that he’d never felt before with anyone else, maybe they were meant to met each other. 

Could she be his destiny? 

“I need to talk to you.” He stares at her across the table looking effortlessly elegant and he takes a sip of his water, something akin to dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. 

“Talk then,” he answers gruffier than he intended but he can see the apology on her face and his vicious side is making an appearance in anticipation of whatever she wants to say to him. She stares at him for a long time and he wonders if she is second guessing or simply searching for the right words, annoyance surges in the wake of her hesitation he is not some child who needs sugared words or placation. “Just say it already,” he says snarkily and her eyes harden at his harsh tone, that’s more like it he hates to be pitied. 

“This is our last...gathering. I can’t help you anymore. I am doing something about my situation and I think you should too.” 

Rage builds up in his veins until he can see nothing but red, he thought he finally found someone who understood but here she was judging him and already abandoning him and all for what, some pretty boy idiot who would never understand what it meant to struggle? They were two sides of the same coin and nobody could ever truly love them, how could she not see that? At birth they had been deemed unlovable by their own parents and there was no way to undo that fate, it was best to just accept the hand they had been dealt. 

“Do you think he really likes you?” He asks meanly sneering at her with a curled lip, this reminds him too much of Dan-oh, of that stinging rejection and the way she wanted nothing to do with him- too lost in her fucking precious Haru-ah and he can’t stop the vicious words that are falling from his mouth, “You’re just a charity case to him. Like a sick puppy he found outside, he doesn’t like you he just feels sorry for you. It’s pathethic.” 

The words land exactly how he intended. 

She looks angry but that fades to consternation and then doubt builds in her eyes and he knows he was successful, he has planted a seed of doubt in her mind and that will only manifest bigger and bigger until she cracks under the pressure.  

“You’re wrong.” She states but she doesn’t sound certain, he can hear the question at the end and he smiles mentally. He almost feels bad but then the image of the other boy smiling with his perfect family flashes in his mind and any guilt he feels melts away. Why should he have it all when he, Baekyung had nothing? 

“I’m not. You’re just a phase for him, he probably think he’s being nice pretending to like you. I’ve seen all those girls around him, why would he want someone whose weak broken and whose parents don't even want her? Don’t be naïve, it’s beneath you Sujin. People like us need to know our place.” 

He stifles the little voice in the back of his mind that questions why he’s pushing away someone who only wants to be free, why did she get to escape the prison that they both had been locked in for so many years? Why couldn’t she just accept that they didn’t deserve anyone else and just be with him? Why was he always the last possible choice? 

She doesn’t say another word, opening her wallet and throwing down enough money to cover the meal that hasn’t even been brought out yet. The cold look she shoots his way stops him from saying anything, he can see the hurt in her eyes and it’s twisted but he feels a tinge of satisfaction at her expression. 

He watches her walk away feeling no better than his father, when had he become such a monster and why didn’t it scare him more? 

What did that say about him? 

The sound of the doorbell echoes through the spacious house and she wonders if it’s Sujin, and that mere possibility is enough to make her race to the door before her husband can make his way from his seclusion in his study. Most day he didn’t even bother coming out and when he did he didn’t even acknowledge her, it was heaven but it also left her guarded waiting from him to explode and hit her. It was like living in a landmine, she walked lightly as to not be heard. 

The face on the other side of the door completely shocks her. 

Lee Joo-Hun stands there, looking determined and she stares blankly at him. It has been months since their families have shared a meal together, she saw his visible discomfort every time her husband would berate her or Sujin. Many people showed discomfort but few did anything to help them, it was human nature after all. 

Better you than me. 

She forces a brittle smile to form on her face. Playing the role of happy wife easily, its a role she has been cultivating for years. 

“Oh. I didn’t know you had plans with my husband today. Come on in.” She notices that there is a certain unexplained tension in his shoulders but after only a moment’s pause he nods before stepping over the threshold, slipping off his expensive loafers and not bothering to put on the slippers they have placed for guest. Maybe he doesn’t plan to stay for long. 

“I’ll go get him,” she says softly wanting to do nothing of the sort, she has not been on his radar as of late and she had every intention to keep things that way but she can’t show this to their guest. Her husband would be livid if she did anything to harm his relationship with someone he saw as a beneficial business partner. She’s unprepared for the hand that stops her, tight around her wrist she has to force herself not to flinch at the sudden touch. 

When she looks back, his eyes are wide and they penetrate through her and she snatches her hand back a fear rippling through her at his stare, he’s looking right through her like she’s made of glass. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes and she smiles nervously waving him off, “I was just surprised you didn’t do anything wrong.” But he’s peering at her like he knows everything racing through her mind and she has to glance away, it’s all a bit too much and suddenly the study door opens and all the air is siphoned from the room as her husband exits the room, his face changing quickly when he notices that they have a guest, she knows that the rage that first appeared will make return once they are alone again. 

“Why didn’t you tell me that we had a guest?” The inquiry is said innocuously enough, he has long mastered repressing his rage in front of others but she can see the anger in his brows. 

Before she can answer, Joo-hun stands between them blocking her completely from her husband’s gaze. 

“Let’s talk.” Her husband raises a brow at the commanding tone and she can read him as easily as a book, he’s furious at being spoken to in such a tone but the other man doesn’t give him an opportunity to disobey because he’s already walking into the study. Her husband glares at her as if she is to blame before disappearing into the room and shutting the door in her face. 

Without a conscious thought she presses her ear against the door but the wood is solid and she can barely hear anything and she leans back about to admit defeat but then the voices raise becoming progressively louder and she hears her husband shout, tone bristling with fury, “How dare you threaten me in my own home!” and the loud booming voice of Joo-hun rings out, “You disgust me and I will do everything imaginable to make sure you end up where you belong.”

The temperature drops at those chilling words and she takes a step back at the sound of movement behind the door, once again coming face to face with the man.

His expression softens when he sees her but she can still see a glint of hardness beneath the surface. He had expressive eyes, they were part of the reason he had been such a celebrated actor. 

He knows. 

She’s certain now, he knows what a monster she is. 

If her husband deserves to suffer then so does she for everything she has done to her poor little girl, she was just as culpable if not more. If only she hadn’t been a coward and left when he first started hitting her, if only she had gone through with the abortion. She had selfishly brought a child into this world knowing that their life would be hell just like hers because she was scared to be alone. She wasn’t a mother, she wasn’t even fit to be called a human at this point and the look he gives her makes her feel like scum on the bottom of his shoe. 

“I’m leaving.” He announces walking back over to his shoes, and she had been right he wasn’t planning on staying long. 

A loud bang suddenly fills the empty void, her husbands scream are not too far behind as he flings books and whatever he can get his hands on into the walls. 

She knows what fate awaits her tonight. 

This is her punishment and it’s exactly what a stain like her deserves. 

She stares absently at the ground, the sound of the door knob turning reaching her ears and she knows that she’s going to be alone again. The door opens and she sighs, waiting to hear the door close knowing that in seconds she will be a whimpering mess on the ground. 

But the sound never comes, and she looks up to see what’s stopping him and his eyes are still hard but not as sharp. 

“Come with me.” 

She hears the word but the sentence does not compute and it takes a moment for her to process what he just said, her mind tells her that surely she heard him wrong. There’s no way he said what she thought he said. 

But then he reaches out a hand and she stares at his palm. 

“Why would you want to help me? I’m not a victim. I knew what he was doing, I knew everything and I did nothing. I am just as bad as him. She hates me too. I didn’t protect her.” 

It’s the truth, she lost the right of calling herself a victim as she watched her husband step on her seven year old daughter and her first thought was thank goodness it’s not me. That was the day the light left Sujin’s eyes but hope didn’t fade completely not yet, but each time her father hit her those huge eyes would look her way and each time her heart constricted but helplessness stopped her from acting. It took years but all that youthful hope was extinguished and she never heard that word again, “mother” it seemed fitting since she had never been a mother to the girl. 

“I don’t understand why you did what you did. But it’s not my place to judge, despite what you think you are a victim and I am done turning a blind eye. Staying here won’t help Sujin, she needs her mother.” 

Sujin needs her? That sounds laughable but then a distant conversation resurfaces in her memory and she feels frustrated tears welling in her eyes. 

“What does it mean to be a mother? I can’t answer that question for you but the fact that you’re asking that means you want to try, so do that. Try your best and apologize when you’re wrong. That’s all mothers can do.” 

The woman looked so fragile laying in the hospital bed but the strength of her words were undeniable, she didn’t know what made her visit she knew if her husband caught her there would be retribution but she couldn’t stay away. She didn’t even have an excuse and they simply stared at each other before the other woman smiled at her and motioned for her to sit on the chair, she had done so without question. 

There were flowers all over the room, both fresh and old. 

“Someone must really love you.” She had said and she watched jealously as a maternal smile graced her face, she could almost feel the motherly pride. 

“Sometimes my son gets carried away.” 

The boy on the motorcycle, she had thought he was just a delinquent but the amount of flowers in the room said otherwise.

That was ultimately what pushed her to ask the silly question: what does it mean to be a mother? 

She had never known, her own mother had treated her like a bargaining chip that would lead to the betterment of her own life, naming her fortune only to force her to have anything but that in her life. 

The woman had smiled delicately before answering her. 

The words swirled around like a tornado in her mind, she hadn’t expected such a simple answer. 

“Are you coming?” Joo-hun’s voice brings her back to reality and she thinks about Sujin and the day she was born and how small and vulnerable she looked laying in her arms as they both cried, wailing their hearts out. 

She hadn’t known what it meant to be a mother back then and she’s no closer to knowing now but she knows that she wants to try, Sujin might never forgive her for what she did and she wouldn’t blame her. But she still wanted to try, even if it took her whole life she would spend it trying to repent for all her sins. 

She takes one small step forward, the shackles that have been tightened around her body her whole life crumbling in the face of her renewed hope.  

I want to try. 

She isn’t wearing his sweater, it’s pitiful but that’s the first thing he notices when he sees Sujin in the morning, she’s walking alone and he can’t stop the joy that shoots through him at the observation it was never easy to see her arrive with the other boy despite knowing the truth. But today the encroacher is nowhere to be seen and he settles the kickstand of his motorcycle before rushing over to her, without thinking he wraps an arm around her shoulder but then he feels her body tighten at the unexpected touch, “Relax, it’s just me,” he whispers airily but to his disappointment her body becomes more rigid at his words. 

He immediately removes his arm, moving out of her personal space- not understanding what exactly is going on but still not wanting to be the source of her discomfort. 

He shifts apprehensively, already wrecking his brain to think of what he might have done to warrant such a bitter cold reception from her but coming up emptyhanded. So instead of trying to guess and create his own reasons, he asks her, “Are you okay? Did I do something?” 

He can tell she’s going to lie before she even opens her mouth, he watches the swarm of emotions play across her face before she settles on nonchalance, “No. I’m fine, you surprised me. I don’t want to upset your fangirls so I think it’s best if we avoid each other at school.” He stares at her in shock, wondering if this is the same girl who he held on the bench just days ago her lips soft on his cheek and her perfume filling his senses? 

“I already told you I don’t care about them. You already know that I only care about yo-” 

“Stop. I can’t do this right now I need space, I have to go.” She interrupts him and after a long gaze she stalks away and he wants to follow her, nothing she’s doing is making any sense not after everything they’ve been through. He’d given her everything he could offer and it still wasn’t enough, she was still walking away and he was tired of chasing her, if it was that easy to walk away from him time and time again then maybe he was fighting a losing battle. 

He turns around, walking the other direction. 

He misses the dark eyes that follow him over a small shoulder. He doesn’t look back. This time he chooses self-preservation. 

He doesn’t go to lunch, unable to bear the thought of sitting across from Sujin and pretending that he’s okay when he feels like a hollow fruit. So he escapes to the roof top and instant regret fills him as he remembers all those months ago when he had held the other on this very roof, it had been so different from their hug at the hospital and the hug in the rain. Those hugs were filled with what he thought was affection, but now he doesn’t really know. He can’t understand why she’s suddenly pushing him away again when he thought they had overcome all the barriers between them. 

Was it because of her father? Had she only kept him by her side because he had helped her but now that Suho and his father were on her side she realized that she no longer needed him? It pains him to imagine that this could be true but the thought rolls around in his thoughts until he starts to believe it, that has to be it. Was he that expendable to her? 

Clearly the answer was, yes. 

The rooftop door suddenly bangs open and he hates his heart for speeding up, as he turns around piteously hoping to see her. HIs heart plummets when he’s greeted by a smiling face that’s nowhere as beautiful as the one he hoped to see, he tries futilely to hide his disappointment with a smirk. 

He recognizes the girl as one of the people who have confessed to him in the past months, she wasn’t as nervous as the others but it had taken her a few minutes to stutter the words out and he had gently turned her down, he wasn’t cruel because he knew how terrifying it was liking someone and not knowing if it was reciprocated. 

She shuffles anxiously on her feet and he wonders how she knew he was up here. Sometimes the girls at school made him uneasy, their fixation with him wasn’t normal. 

He watches at she inhales deeply before looking at him with an unwavering gaze. 

“I know that you said that you liked someone else and I respect that. But I haven’t seen you dating anyone and I just like you so much you’re all I can think about and .....Cantyoujustgivemeachanceifshedoesntlikeyouback?” 

It takes an extra moment to decipher what she said with the rapid speed that she expels the words and he stares at her, her breathe coming out in short winded puffs like she just ran a marathon. 

He steps forward purposely, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder before answering her, thoughts of Sujin’s sudden rejection permeating his mind. 

She walks away stunned by his reply and he doesn’t go down until the bell rings, he still isn’t prepared to be in the same room as Sujin but he can’t avoid her forever. 

The classroom is abuzz, he can hear excited voices as he walks down the hallway and he wonders what bit of gossip has their attention now, he slides the door open only to feel all eyes land on him. The class goes silent before suddenly he’s being bombarded with questions. 

“Is it true?” 

“Why her? I liked you before she did.” 

“Are you finally going to get a girlfriend? It’s not fair you shouldn’t only date one person oppa.” 

He ignores them all sliding into his seat and dropping his head onto the table, when they realize that he has no plans of answering their invasive prompts they go back to gossiping about him as if he’s not sitting right there. 

He rubs his temple, trying to stop the head ache he can feel forming but he knows that it’s already too late. 

The energy shifts in the room and without looking up he already knows why, he can hear the telltale clicks of her shoes on the floor. 

He hears Su-ah’s voice shortly after, “What are you all so excited about? Did something happen?” 

It’s vindictive but he wants them to hear the gossip so he finally looks up, eyes settled on Sujin who is already looking at him.

“Oh! Su-ah it’s the saddest news, Han Seojun is getting a girlfriend. He finally accepted a confession.” A girl whose name he doesn’t know wails as if her life is over and he watches the confusion morph on Su-ah’s face before he glances over at Sujin and she looks devastated and it suddenly he feels sick instead, what is he doing finding enjoyment in this? 

He can’t hold her gaze, he doesn’t know what the look on her face means and he doesn’t want to analyze it, he’s done doing this.   

“It’s just rumors.” Su-ah repeats this over and over like a mantra, but she can’t hear a word that the other girl is saying all she can think about is Seojun with someone else. She imagines him smiling and holding someone else, cradling their cheek as he kisses their forehead and wrapping them in his too big sweater while beaming down at them and it makes her rush to the bathroom, water scalding her hands before she can even think about what she’s doing. 

“Sujin no!” Jukyeong snatches her hand away from the too hot water and she only fights her for a moment before lets herself be pulled away, losing all her fight. 

“Calm down Sujin, talk to us. What happened between you two?” Su-ah asks firmly and gently and she can’t stop the diarrhea of words that explode from her mouth as she tells them everything, Baekyung and how much his words stuck in her mind and her doubts about Seojun and whether she could truly be loved by anyone much less someone as coveted as him. What right did she have to drag him down? 

He might like her now, think that he was aiding someone helpless but was that all this was? Was she just something to soothe his ego? 

“Do you really feel that way?”

She jumps at the harshness in Jukyeong’s tone, she has never heard the other girl talk like this before. She has never been anything but kind when speaking to her, the tone makes her head spin. 

“What?” She replies at a loss for words. 

“Do you really think that’s true? Do you believe the words you are saying right now?” Jukyeong presses harder and she stalls at her interrogation, not knowing what she thinks anymore she can barely trust her emotions- they change too quickly without her permission or consent. It makes her miss the days when she felt nothing, numbness overwriting all these pesky feelings. 

“I...I...I don’t know.” 

The silence drags on before she hears Jukyeong sigh heavily, “Then I think you should let him go.”

It’s the last thing she expects to hear especially from the ever optimistic girl and acid runs through her body at the mere suggestion. 

“What do you mean?”

“This isn’t fair Sujin, you can’t play with someone like this. You can’t push him away and then get jealous when someone else shows interest, he’s not some toy that you can pick up whenever you see fit. He is a person, who really cares about you. If you still don’t know what you feel for him then maybe it’s best to let him go.” 

She turns to look at Su-ah hopeful that the other girl will say the opposite, will implore her to fight for Seojun. She’s crushed when she sees a similar look on Su-ah’s face. It’s a mix of exasperation and pity, she hates it. 

They both think that she should let Seojun go. 

She leaves the bathroom with nothing in her mind, walking aimlessly back to class taking her seat and robotically pulling out her notebook. She doesn’t hear one word that the teacher says for the rest of the time, her heartbeat wildly thumping in her chest. 

When class ends it takes Su-ah calling her name a few times to break her from her stupor. 

“It’s time to go home.” 

“Oh.” She starts to put her books away in her bag, dropping one when Seojun walks past her table without a sideways glance, it’s like they are strangers again and that makes her want to scream because this was all her fault. 

“Wait.” 

She can’t bring herself to speak the word aloud and he leaves, walking away from her just like she had this very morning. 

He’s already speeding off on his motorcycle when she gets outside and she sees a girl beaming at his back, surrounded by a group of girls who are congratulating her and telling her how jealous they are. 

That must be her, the lucky girl. 

The one that had replaced her so easily. She stomps away ignoring Su-ah and Jukyeong’s cries of her name. She knows she has no right, none at all but she does it anyway she has to know if this is really the end. 

That’s how she finds herself outside of his apartment, staring at his motorcycle the proof that he is here and not out with the girl from school, it makes the unease in her stomach unfurl slightly. Staring up at the looming building she tries to think of what she can say to him, she should listen to Jukyeong what she was doing wasn’t fair but she can’t lose him, she had undid all the good in one fleeting moment because she didn’t trust them. Baekyung had said the words but she was the one who chose to believe them, the one that let those words wedge a divide between them and for that she was solely to blame. 

Saying sorry wouldn’t nearly be enough, but that’s all she can think of as she pushes the door open and calls for the elevator. 

The ride has never felt that long all the other times she has visited his apartment, but today it feels like an eternity but when she reaches his floor it feels too soon and she’s not ready. 

Which is exactly why the universe gives her no warning and as the doors open she meets his eyes, he looks notably surprised to see her there and takes a step back in his shock. 

Once she recovers from her own shock, she takes in his attire he’s no longer wearing his uniform- dressed in all black from head to toe like a grim reaper and she wonders if grim reapers are supposed to be that hot, absently she steps out of the elevator before the doors can close between them. Her tongue feels huge in her mouth as she openly gapes at him. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Where are you going?”

Their questions collide and his gaze sharpens once he processes her words, she knows she has no right to question him about anything and his cold look echoes that very sentiment. 

He scoffs at her and tries to circumvent around her and she feels the floodgates opening up in the face of his blatant disregard, “I know you’re tired of hearing this but I’m sorry.” 

His expression barely changes, as he folds his arms peering down at her. 

“Okay.” 

He tries to walk around her once more and this time she’s the one to invade his personal space, gripping his elbow to stop him from walking away from her. She has an irrational fear that if he walks away that this will be her last chance, it makes her let down her guard fully terrified she’ll never get another opportunity. 

“I was scared, that once you realized that I was always going to be this broken you wouldn’t want me anymore. Even if he goes to jail I’m always going to be like this, a broken fucking mess and how can I ask anyone else to deal with that? How can I ask you to give up on having a normal relationship with someone who won’t need therapy for the rest of their lives? I should give you up, everyone is right. I don’t deserve you. I don’t.” 

Despite her rapid blinking a few stray tears escape her tight hold and she watches the wall he put up around his heart gradually start to stilt away as his eyes opens up in the face of her palpable dismay. 

“Sujin.”

“Please let me finish, if I don’t say it now I’m scared I never will.”

He stares at her before nodding slowly. 

She takes a deep breathe before continuing, “I’m not good girlfriend material, no don’t argue I’m not. I will doubt us all the time and I won’t always talk to you about my feelings because I’ve spent so many years ignoring them, I only spoke to you last time because it involved your family. I knew I couldn’t keep that from you but this didn’t seem as important. I should be able to handle it on my own, I’m not a baby. I’m too impulsive and selfish and a coward and....I shouldn’t burden anyone with dating me.”

It looks like it’s taking everything in him not to rebuttal, because when it really matters he always listens to her. 

“I know that I haven’t made this easy on you and I should have just let things be-let you be with someone normal, but I can’t and I know why, I’ve always known why but I was too scared to admit it. I can’t just be friends with you anymore.....I want more.” 

She can’t believe it but the words are now out in the universe, the ones that she has been thinking for months and swallowing every time he showed her how much he cared about her, and he looks taken back by her confession, she hadn’t planned on saying that when she showed up but now it feels stupid to keep it to herself, if she’s going to lose him then she might as well be honest, at least once in her life. 

“Can I speak now?” 

She doesn’t know if she’s ready to hear what he has to say, but it’s only right since he listened to her, taking a centering breathe she nods at his inquiry preparing herself for the worst. 

“You are selfish.” 

Her heart sinks at his words, that isn’t a good start and even though he is merely echoing her words it burns deeper to hear them from him. 

“And impulsive and so damn confusing, you’re hot and then you’re so damn cold and I’m only human Sujin I can’t just pick myself up after you push me away every time, I get hurt too.”

She tries not to bristle at his tone and the lack of nicknames, feeling her heart sink into her stomach now. 

“When that girl confessed to be do you want to know what I thought?” 

She blinks at the sudden change in topic and her immediate answer is no, she does not want to know at all but he doesn’t even give her a moment to reply before he’s answering his own question. 

“I thought she is so straightforward and this is so different, I don’t have to guess about her feelings she wears them on her sleeve, this is so much easier being with her would be so much easier.” 

Her first real confession and rejection all in one day. She has always been an overachiever and it’s only fitting that this would be no different, blinking harshly she forces the tears to stop she has no right to make him feel guilty, everything he said was right and she couldn’t blame him for choosing the path of least resistance. 

“Thank you. For everything, I really mean it.” She bows at him before turning around, she can’t stay here for another minute not knowing that he’s no longer hers and probably never was in the first place. 

It’s all too cruel. 

She presses the button, she should just take the stairs but this will buy her a few extra minutes with him, it’s pitiable but she wants to savor every remaining moments. 

The elevator arrives, gleaming metal doors sliding open and she steps inside ready to go home and cry her eyes out. 

But then a large hands wraps around her wrist and she’s suddenly tugged backwards her back slamming into his chest. 

“Where are you going? Did I say I was finished?” His voice is rough in her ears and she can feel the rapid beat of his heart through his skin, it amps up her own racing heart too scared to even hope but she feels brittle and unsteady his body is the only thing keeping her upright. 

“Dating someone else would be easier, but the thing is I don’t want easy. I’ve never wanted easy, I just wanted you in anyway that I could have you. So why are you trying to “set me free”? Fuck that self sacrificing bullshit, you said it yourself you’re selfish so hold on to me and don’t let me go, when you have doubts hold on to me tighter. I’m not some caged bird that you’ve imprisoned, I’m the guy who likes you and that���s not going to change because you pushed me away. Do you feel feel that? That’s fear. You’re scared to lose me. Good, remember this feeling and how much it makes your heart ache and hold on to me tighter.”

She hiccups at his words, tears pouring down her cheeks now and she finds herself turning in his arms before her brain can catch up, relief washing over her so profoundly she sways a little on her feet. 

He has a shit eating grinning on his face as he stares down at her. 

“You didn’t accept her confession.”

He rolls his eyes at the statement, pulling her closer although there is no space left between them. 

“No I turned her down again but some girls saw us come from the roof top together and they started spreading rumors anyway and I couldn’t be bothered to stop them.” 

She stares unimpressed at him, reading between his lines and feeling foolish because she fell right into his trap. 

“You knew it would make me jealous.” 

He shrugs noncommittedly, “I hoped it would help bring you to your senses.” 

Has she been brought to her senses, she’s not sure she feels crazier than before his words echoing in her brain and she’s moving before she even knows what her intentions are, his smile starts to slip away and he releases her and makes an apprehensive retreat backwards and she automatically follows him, he steps back, she steps forward, another step back and she steps forward again, they do this dance until he’s pressed against the wall with nowhere else to run. 

“Why are you running?” 

He blinks looking dazed and she takes that opportunity to move in closer, cradling his face in her hands before leaning her head forward until only an inch separates them, a scratching noise comes from the wall and when she glances down she can see his nails digging into the paint, she hums at the sight and the implications. 

She was clawing at his resolve.  

Skin vibrating like a livewire she gently pulls him down, until they are eye level and their breaths are curling in the miniscule space between them, those feline eyes are darting all over her face before they land on her lips, she sinks her hands deeper into his hair. 

“Are you sure about this?” 

She has to ask one last time, this all feels like a dream and she’s terrified of waking up and finding that she imagined this all. 

He doesn’t answer at first, too busy staring a hole through her face but she waits patiently, remembering all the times he had waited for her. 

“What?”

“Can I really keep you? Do you really want to be mine?” 

It’s so cheesy and sappy and all kinds of ridiculous, nothing that she ever imagined for herself because she never thought anyone would make her want to say these kind of sweet nothings but here they are- and there’s no turning back now she waits for his reply with bated breath and this time he barely pauses for a second instantly answering, “I’ve been yours this whole time. Are you mine though can you let me in?” 

When you have doubts, hold on to me tighter. 

She drags him the rest of the distance between them, her lips barely grazing his own and it’s crazy because her lips are already on his, soft flesh upon flesh but it takes a moment to realize that she’s actually kissing him, she is kissing Han Seojun. They are kissing. 

She has no idea what she’s doing and she leans onto her tiptoes pressing more firmly against his mouth, imitating the kisses she has seen on tv and from couples in the hallway at school twisting her head to find a better angle but something still feels wrong and it takes another moment to realize what’s wrong. 

He is frozen on the wall, completely still under her ministrations. 

And she immediately pulls away, apologetic and feeling bone deep shame. 

“I’m sorry! I had no right to spring that on you, you barely forgave me and I did that. It won’t happen again, I promise.” 

His eyes are glossy and his cheeks are so red and it’s almost too beautiful to look at, how was she not supposed to kiss him when he was looking like that?

“Don’t apologize, you just made my brain short circuit. Come here.”  

She blushes bright at his too honest admittance, feeling giddy from the power that she seems to have over him. She had been scared that her inexperience would be off-putting for him. 

He tugs her back, letting her body block him in against the wall and she gasps at the warmth of his body he’s so hot even through the layers of clothes separating them. Her breath hitches when he starts to lean back down and this time when their lips meet it feels like the universe has righted itself, the stars and the moon are aligned and something clicks inside her like a gear snapping into its rightful place. 

It’s a simple kiss, a mere press of lips to lips but it is perfect and sweet- nothing like what she imagined because her mind could never fathom something so ideal, the softness of his mouth on hers is enough to make her toes curl and when he wraps his arms around her waist, one hand tight on her back as he eliminates any space between them dragging her impossibly close, she sighs unable to contain her delight as a smile works its way across her lips. He chuckles into the soft press of their first kiss and she can’t help the answering giggle that she lets out, to anyone else they would look deranged but she doesn’t care, this was real. 

He breaks away only to pepper kisses all over her face- first her forehead then her cheeks, her nose and even her chin, all left warm in the wake-  and she blushes under his passionate and diligent attention before grabbing his face and kissing him harder on those plush red lips, hands tight on his hair as she tastes him for the first time. He’s intoxicating and she knows she can never go back to being just friends, not when his flavor is thick on her tongue and she knows what his moans taste like.

Not when his hands are bruising tight on her waist and his scent is coiling around her like a blanket that she never wants to be without. 

She was allowed to have this and she would relish every minute. 

He sits awkwardly on the couch with the woman he has only ever seen a handful of times, when his father had called him and asked for a favor he had never expected this. He had been completely flabbergasted to see the woman on his doorstep but stepped back to give her entrance, nonetheless. 

He knew that his father meant well, was hoping that the two would be able to reconcile like they had but he was forgetting how much they fought before getting to where they were now. It had been an arduous path to restoring their broken relationship and he feared that Sujin and her mother had differences that might be irreconcilable . 

She looks like Sujin, just more weathered and beaten down by life in her expensive clothes and jewelry none of it doing anything to hide the sadness that wafts off her in ebbs and waves. He tried calling the other girl several times but to no avail as he reached her voicemail over and over again, he knows that there is no way this can end well but he couldn’t kick the woman out either, not to be with that sadistic bastard. 

“I should go. She won’t be happy to see me.” She states matter of fact and he’s not a good enough liar to try to argue with her so he says nothing at all, staring at the floor in silence. 

Then the jiggle of keys reach his ears and they both sit taller, gazing at each other wild eyed as the door pushes open. 

Sujin looks blindingly happy, a wide smile stretched across her face and he contemplates throwing a blanket over the woman’s head to hide her- just so the girl can enjoy a few more seconds of happiness but it’s already too late, Sujin slips off her shoes putting on her slippers and walking over to him, her eyes are still on the ground and then she finally looks up and all the air is sucked out of the room. 

All of the joy and exuberance that had previously been imbedded in her pores dissipates and he sees a look so numb, it feels like he’s seeing the Sujin from months ago cold and shivering in Seojun’s arm, the one that didn’t want to live and saw her life as expendable. 

He wonders if he did the right thing? Would she ever forgive him for this? 

She doesn’t say a word, throwing the keys on the table and sprinting back to her shoes, haphazardly stuffing her feet back into them and shooting him one final look of betrayal that makes his blood turn to ice before she slams the door behind her, the sound so powerful the walls vibrate. 

“She hates me.” 

From that look on her face, her mother wasn’t the only one. 

[graymatters]

On Insecurity

Number 12 Grimmauld Place smells absolutely rancid as Draco Malfoy feels the warm wash of the wards permit his entrance. A putrid mix of days-old takeaway, stale whiskey and smoke assaults his senses as he scans the poor state of the front room.

He’s not heard from Harry for weeks. As a result, Draco had initially convinced himself that he’d imagined the last few months. Denial and disbelief progressed to a deep sense of guilt, whispering that he would never have been allowed to keep this anyway. Harry must have finally remembered that the creature he’d let crawl into his bed had ugly scars and a black mark that screamed ‘wretched’ and ‘undeserving.’ Draco knew it would happen eventually. He knew it back in December when Harry, wrapped in a crimson and gold scarf, cheeks flushed a beautiful pink, had actually smiled at him when he entered the pub.

Regardless, Draco had wrung every ounce of bliss that he possibly could out of these weeks. He’d savored each time Harry’s knee had secretly rested against his under the table, every soft touch in the middle of the night and the white hot touches that followed after. The short time they’ve had was more than he deserved and he wasn’t going to hurt Harry by asking for more than he could give.

Draco was well into drowning in his disillusionment when Granger had shown up, frazzled and desperate on his doorstep, asking if he’d heard from Harry. She couldn’t reach him by owl, couldn’t get through his floo and the house was warded shut. The distress in her eyes made Draco’s stomach drop and he cursed himself for allowing his self-deprecating nature to make Harry’s absence all about himself.

He weaves through the neglected home to find Harry in a dark and musty upstairs bedroom, sitting on a worn desk with one knee pulled up under his chin, his other leg dangling off the edge. He’s wearing old pajama pants that are two sizes too big and hang low on his hips, but didn’t make it so far as to put on a shirt. His hair isn’t just unkempt, it’s unwashed and greasy. A thin trail of smoke escapes from the end of a lit cigarette that dangles loosely from his hand. Harry absently watches the curling wisps float out the open window next to him.

He turns when the floor creaks under Draco’s weight. The bright green of his eyes contradicts Harry’s lifeless expression and makes Draco uncomfortable.

“Harry,” he says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. Draco fidgets with a stray string on his sweater and looks at Harry’s hands, his toes that graze the wooden floorboards.

“I’m not up for this right now,” he mumbles, barely above a whisper.

“And what’s that?” Draco asks, raising his eyes to look at Harry’s chewed lips, the anxious scratch marks that trail his neck and chest.

Harry turns to look back out the window. He places the shrinking cigarette between his lips and mutters around it, “A pep talk.” A clump of ash falls and lands on Harry’s knee. He doesn’t seem to notice.

“What if I’m not here for a pep talk? What if I’m here to bum a smoke?” Draco hopes he sounds confident.

“Then you’re shit out of luck,” he shrugs. “Last one,” he says a bit louder and casually blows smoke in Draco’s direction.

Draco steps towards the desk. “May I sit?”

Harry just shrugs again. Not a ‘no,’ Draco thinks. He sits, and brings his knee up to his chest, mirroring Harry’s position.

He glances at the ash pile that still graces Harry’s knee, raising an eyebrow in Harry’s direction. A subtle nod grants him permission and he brushes the ash off of Harry’s threadbare pants. Their fingers brush as Harry passes the cigarette to Draco. The smoke curls deep in his lungs. He blows it out the window and looks towards Harry when he says, “Hello.”

“Hi.”

“How are you?”

“Fine.”

“How are you, really?”

“Shit.”

“I can see that. And smell that.”

Harry huffs a hint of laughter through his nose and aims his gaze towards Draco. “Git.”

“If you wanted sugar-coated truths, you should’ve let Granger through the wards,” Draco shrugs and takes another puff of the cigarette. “This is vile.”

Harry reaches to pluck the cigarette from Draco’s lips. “More for me then.” He places a grin on his face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s something.

“Thought you were ignoring me,” Draco admits.

“I’m not ignoring you, I’m ignoring everyone.”

“I can see that.”

“Can you smell that, too?” Harry smirks.

Draco ignores him and says, “Figured you’d finally realized the gravity of the mistake you made.”

“Which one?” Harry raises an eyebrow.

“The one where you’re sleeping with your arch enemy and sharing your deepest secrets with an ex-death eater,” Draco whispers.

The smirk disappears from Harry’s face and he says, “Sure, every time I see your face I can’t help but think, yup, definitely fucked that one up.”

“You wouldn’t be the only one if you did. Great conversation starter with my parents.”

Harry reaches out to interlace their fingers and says, “I look at you and ask myself what the fuck I did to earn this. I wonder what you were even thinking, getting anywhere near me after… everything.” He gives Draco’s fingers a squeeze. “You’re the one that should be questioning his decisions right now. Unless you think the unshowered and depressed look is sexy?”

“Honestly, Potter, I don’t think there’s a thing you could do to convince me this is a mistake. And the days-old filth and aura of misery is actually quite the turn-on for me. Had to restrain myself from jumping your bones the minute I saw those tattered pants.” Draco looks down at their hands for a moment before continuing, “Now, contrary to my typical behavior, I am not here to talk about me. Do you care to tell me why no one’s heard from you for weeks?” Draco asks as he watches Harry toss the cigarette butt on the floor. It joins a mess of dirty clothes, half-consumed takeaway containers, dirty utensils and piles of ash.

Harry thinks for a moment before answering, “No.”

Draco sends a stern gaze towards Harry. Harry’s knee falls outward and he releases Draco’s hand to place his palms on the desk. He leans forward so far that their lips are nearly touching. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Draco brings his hands up to cup Harry’s face, smooths his thumb over Harry’s cheekbone. He says, “Okay. What do you want to talk about?”

Harry leans his cheek into Draco’s hand, closes his eyes as he rests against Draco’s support and says, “Hmmm… Have you ever watched a muggle telly? You couldn’t imagine what I had to pay to get this to work in this ancient fucking house, but how could I wallow in self-pity without it? Walburga screamed for days, can’t believe I didn’t invite you for the fun.” Harry proceeds to slip out of Draco’s hands and off the desk to lean against the doorframe. “Would you like to see?”

“How about we get you in the shower first? Self-care is important, Potter. No, I won’t take this nonsense. You find a clean, and I mean clean, towel and I will get the shower started for you. And before you even ask, yes, you must wash your hair. It is required, or Merlin help me, I will leave, you just watch.”

After Harry is washed, they spend the evening with limbs tangled under blankets, eating popcorn that Draco successfully did not burn. Draco mindlessly runs his fingers through Harry’s damp hair, untangling the strands as he goes. They watch reruns of a show called Friends , and Draco laughs but also questions this Ross fellow’s character. It’s nearly midnight when Draco turns to Harry and says, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Harry turns the volume down as Phoebe sings a rude Christmas song. “Hermione’s pregnant,” he says with a finality.

“Ok. You seem sad.”

“I’m not sad. I’m… Fuck, I don’t know. I’m happy for them, I really am. But,” he exhales loudly.

Harry shifts his hips to settle into the sofa a bit more, presses himself against Draco from shoulder to knee. Still uncomfortable, he turns sideways to slide his legs between Draco’s and leans his elbow against the back of the sofa. Draco waits patiently through the nervous repositioning until Harry responds, “I feel a bit... left behind? It’s like everyone else has figured out how to move on. How to, I don’t know, get past the fucking trauma that we went through, and just, keep going. Hermione’s on track to be Minister of Magic by thirty, Ron’s about to overtake Robards as Head Auror, you’ll be running your own ward at St. Mungo’s, I know you will. And here I am, still having god damned nightmares.” He looks into his lap, “I dropped out of auror training. I had a panic attack during a bogart exercise and I just... left.”

Draco reaches up to brush a stray curl off of Harry’s forehead, revealing the beginning of the lightning bolt scar that continues through his left eye and disperses over his cheekbone. “Harry, you are so good, and brilliant, and beautiful. You can still be what you want to be, whatever that is and whoever that is, whenever you want. Or not. You could escape to Reykjavik. You could start a circus for all I care, as long as you’re happy, the context is irrelevant.”

“What would I do in Reykjavik?”

“Soak in the hot springs til you shrivel up like a prune. Fuck if I know, but that wasn’t really the point. Harry, you don’t owe anyone anything. Do what makes you happy and fuck the rest.”

Harry moves to nuzzle his nose into Draco’s neck. His exhalations are hot against Draco’s skin. He traces his nose to follow the line of muscle up behind Draco’s ear, tugs at the lobe with his teeth and whispers, “You make me happy.”

“Well thank fuck for that. We’re not done here, not even close.”

Harry’s breath tickles Draco’s neck, sends a shiver down his spine. “Can we be done for now?” he whispers into Draco’s ear.

Counting the short conversation as a win, Draco lets out an exasperated sigh and says, “For now.” Harry celebrates his victory by licking a stripe up the side of Draco’s neck, making Draco cringe. The shape of Harry’s smile is obvious as his lips trail gently back down Draco’s skin and his hand settles under Draco’s sweater to rest firmly against his ribs.

Also on AO3.

[niall-the-churchboy]

Just Like Family pt3 ~Harry Styles

In which he breaks her heart.

Warnings: Swearing?

Word Count: 2.7k

A/n: Here’s part three, I honestly thought I could end it here but as I was writing it I knew I at least needed a new part. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy and thank you for all the support! Happy reading!

Pt 1   Pt2

--------------------------

“Ugh, I feel like such a moron”, Y/n buried her face on a pillow as she laid down on her bed, Tracy’s face big on her computer screen. 

Y/n had ruined it once again, it had to be illegal to be so awkward, she quite literally pushed him out of her house! Oh no... Harry’s confused expression was engraved in her head forever, his pinpoint onyx black pupils stared at her; his cheeks flushed with embarrassment asking himself what he had done wrong?, his big frame leaning down with sadness because once again she was pushing him out. This was terrible, might as well have the earth swallow her. 

A frustrated sigh slipped out of her lips as she sat back straight, “Tracy? Why aren’t you assuring me that everything will be okay?”

Tracy rubbed her face with her hands and Y/n suddenly remembered that the clock was about to strike midnight, “Well, do you want me to lie?” Hearing Tracy’s teasing words only made Y/n sink further between her covers -- she had really, really fucked it up.

“Tracy, what in the world am I going to do?”, her voice sounded exasperated and she felt an anxious tangle forming at the pit of her stomach. This was truly her biggest nightmare -- at least it felt like it. 

“Well, maybe start by telling me why you pushed him away”, the slumber in Tracy’s voice was clear, but if Y/n needed help she would stay up all night trying to calm her down and give her a new perspective. After all, that's what best friends are for and Y/n had done far more extreme things for Tracy. 

Y/n reflected on the question, why had she pushed him away? Now, the whole scene seemed like it had happened days ago and as she tried to remember everything became blurry. But one feeling was clear, it would release a tickling sensation all over Y/n’s stomach, make her heart swell with giddiness, and she would simply feel content -- happy even. Why did Harry trigger these sensations in her body? That she didn’t know, but it sure scared Y/n to her core. He could laugh and it would replay constantly in her mind, wanting to hear it every second of every day; he smiled, dimples forming at the sides of his rosy lips, and the visuals would engrave in her mind; he could simply stare at her, those forest green eyes that loved to shine endlessly and were like urgent hands that pulled you in to never let go, the thing is Y/n didn't want to go anyway. 

“I - ”, Y/n’s voice cracked, “I don’t know... He just looks at me and it feels like - like everything else disappears”, she tried to explain without thinking about it as much given that she felt tears prickling in her eyes. “It’s just me lost inside his eyes, and I know - I know that I should pull away but I just can’t”, Y/n hated the way she sounded, with all this weird feelings that were cheesy and childish, “and I think I don’t want to pull away either.”

This was a problem -- not being able to control her emotions -- she knew that if he wanted she would surrender to his feet, melt in his stare until she was nothing but a dirty puddle at the corner of the street. 

“And you’re scared?”, it was more of a confirmation than a question, but Y/n nodded anyway, “scared of what? Your feelings?”

“Of everything, tracy”, Y/n tried to gulp down a knot that had formed in between her throat, “of what he can do to me, of the way butterflies come alive when I see him, of how my heart skips a beat when he talks to me and how my legs shake even though I try to keep them as still so he won’t notice.” deep down she knew it was a matter of time until she lost her own battle against her heart’s wish. 

---------------------

Y/n had barely slept at all, she kept falling into a dreamy state where she hallucinated chasing down a beautiful green-eyed bunny through the woods, eventually losing herself in-between branches and leaves with the dim light of moon above her, only to jolt awake and find herself in her room once again. After the third time the dream began tedious, her mind playing repetitive games on her, so she decided to stay awake until her alarm went off. 

Entering through the school’s glass doors she frowned when Tracy practically yanked her out of the hall and into the bathroom, not even giving her time to greet her. “Wha - ?!”

“Shh”, Tracy placed a finger against Y/n’s lips, her eyes looked nervous and her lips were pressed in a thin line. She closed the door and sighed, “don't talk, we’re staying here.”

“What? Why? No”, Y/n protested hosting her backpack higher on her shoulders before trying to push Tracy out of the door, eventually giving up, “Tracy, I’m serious. I have History in the first period and you know how Mr. Hanks hates when his students come late to class.” Tracy shook her head already decided to hide whatever she thought needed to be hidden, Y/n sighed tiredly. “At least tell me what’s going on? What are we hiding from?”  

“I can’t, I need to -”, Tracy was pushed to the side, eventually forcing her to move from the way given that people outside wanted to enter the bathroom. They were two girls from their grade that smiled sweetly at both Tracy and Y/n before walking to the sink and fixing their hair. Y/n observed how Tracy’s eyes would skip between hers to the girls back, a tense look on her face and her shoulders straighter than usual. 

Y/n had begun to grow suspicious when one of the girls gossiped with the other, “Did you see how Harry kissed Sofia? Ugh. They are so cute! I can only wish to have a boyfriend like Styles.” 

Tracy’s eyes grew huge and Y/n could almost feel her heart breaking into two pieces, her hands falling to her sides as a helpless gasp escaped her lips. 

“I know, right? But they are totally getting detention after locking themselves inside a classroom”, the other one replied completely oblivious to Tracy and Y/n behind her. 

Y/n’s breath started to hitch and the bathroom seemed to be shrinking. She had to get out of there, fast. She pushed the door opening, Tracy not even daring to stop her, and as she walked with quick steps to her locker she felt the itching in her eyes, the anguish knotting up on her throat and the impossible task to breathe. 

Her hands shook uncontrollably as she tried to open her locker, but then she realised her head was so messed up she was putting the wrong numbers. An exasperated groan escaped between her teeth as she forcefully tried to open her stupid locker, throwing her books inside when it finally opened. She could squeeze herself in, bring her legs to her chest and lock herself in, it seemed like the best way to avoid the blurry tears that were already forming in her eyes, the hard pain in her upper chest and the feeling of emptiness in her stomach. 

She had let herself be fooled again, and even though she was sure to be trying everything in her power to avoid a situation like this, here she was with a broken heart that she would have to fix again piece by piece, little by little. The worst part was that she didn’t even regret it, she would do it ten times again if it meant to have Harry by her side, laughing at her dumb jokes and implying if she wanted to be his friend. 

Friend. Even the word felt bittersweet, but it was greater than what Y/n thought Harry and her could ever achieve. 

That’s a lie, she squeezed her eyes shut because she knew fairly well she was lying. She lived in daydreams where her and Harry would share kisses on cheeks; cheesy pet names; warm embraces that would be ten times as efficient than a thick sweater; where he would come looking for her and kiss the tip of her nose; she’d imagined his arms warped around her when she laid in bed with soft sobs coming from her mouth and a runny nose. She lived in a dream created by no other but herself, and she wished, wished hard that she was the one kissing his soft lips instead of Sofia. 

“To my office, now!” the principal’s harsh voice could be heard through the hall, and the cheers and jokes were inevitably loud too. The white-haired man walked next to Y/n with a dead look in his face, both Sofia and Harry following close behind. His eyes had a tint of mischief in them and his lips were surely red and swollen, he was able to catch Y/n red eyes for a mere second before she turned around and hid her face in her locker. Only when a tear damped her blue sweater did she notice she was crying. 

----------------------------

The day passed slowly, every second feeling longer than the one before and the constant reminder to pay attention from professors. Y/n wanted to tell them she was trying -- harder than anyone, really -- but her head and her heart were not coping at all. 

Avoiding Harry seemed harder than ever, it seemed that every turn she made he would be there walking by or chatting with a friend. His arrogant ass was able to leave the office with just a warning -- perk of being the school’s it boy -- and he was quick to joke with his friends about the whole situation. However, every time he locked eyes with her -- obviously just for a split moment before she practically ran away -- his whole expression would change to one Y/n wasn't sure what they expressed. 

Her eyes stayed puffy and red for the whole day, and when friends and classmates asked if something was wrong, she would just shake her head with a fake smile and keep her head low. By the end of the day Tracy was trying to convince her to go out for coffee, maybe bake some cookies and eat them as they watched an episode of whatever Y/n was feeling like watching, but all Y/n really wanted to do was crawl back to bed and sleep for days. 

“Y/n? I saw you crying -”, his voice stung and all she could really do was close her eyes and try to drown it out. 

“Please, Harry, if you really want to help you should leave”, Tracy said before he could place a warm hand on Y/n shoulder. Tracy’s voice was cold and almost disapproving, but she had to do it for Y/n’s sake. Harry frowned, confused, but nevertheless he turned around and left. 

“So, yes to the cookies?”

-----------------------------

Harry was confused, he didn’t know what exactly had gone wrong and why all of a sudden Y/n was completely ignoring him. 

They were alright, good even, he was finally starting to grow a relationship with Y/n and that seemed to brighten his days. They were friends -- at least he thought so -- she would smile brightly at him and he would feel his stomach flutter with happiness, he’s not going to deny he practically jumped of joy when the math’s teacher put them together for the pair’s project, and it wasn't because he would avoid the older students -- he had a good relationship with them -- but because the idea of spending more time with Y/n somehow gave him hope. 

Hope of what exactly? He wasn’t sure.

He was feeling confident, the sun was shining warmer and he knew the path to Y/n’s house by hard -- he enjoyed watching her go with a cheerful smile as she waved her friends goodbye --, Mrs/ L/n had brought them some god-sent sweet cookies and even though the math problems were hard, having Y/n beside him took out the boredom of the task. 

They were laughing, joking even, and then, as quick as their friendship had emerged, she quite literally closed the door on his face. 

Having Sofia by his side again helped drown the feeling of disappointment, by now it was almost clear Y/n didn't want him as his friend, and even though he did feel guilty for dragging Sofia into his whole emotional mess, it was the only way he knew how to cope with it. He did act abruptly, spotted Sofia with some friends and went with quick and decisive steps, then, he cupped her face with both his hands and kissed her lips. Even though he knew it was wrong, Harry was sure Sofia would take him back, and that way they would both compromise, Sofia would be with him and he would be able to distract himself from those kind eyes that literally made his world shake. 

But then, he saw he cry. Her eyes were glossy and red, her mouth swollen and her nose had the tiny hint of blush that only meant she was indeed crying. Harry could barely contain himself, he wanted to run up to her and ask what was wrong, inquire who had hurt her, and try -- maybe he could -- to break a smile on her face. 

He was able to leave the office with just a warning, they needed him for the Saturday’s game and a red admonition would prevent that from happening, and to say he sprinted in the search for Y/n is not enough. He crossed paths with her a few times that day, put she would quickly turn around and walk away, it was almost as if she was avoiding him, he later got his confirmation when Tracy asked him to leave. 

“Please, Harry, if you really want to help you should leave”, the words stung, not because they were hard and almost angry-like, but because Y/n didn’t even dare to look at him. 

And then he wished she hadn't. The next day he woke up with an encouraging feeling, he was going to talk with Y/n, but to his bad fortune, she missed school that Wednesday. He was sure something was wrong, besides, Tracy looked at him like she was containing the need to kill him. His shoulders shrunk on Thursday morning when he noticed she wasn’t there either, but then, as he was finishing lunching with Sofia by the hall, a tired figure walked through the school’s glass doors. He knew Sofia had noticed the way his posture stood straighter as he hesitated in greeting her, but it didn't matter because Y/n didn’t glance at him. 

He waited until the end of the day, she was packing her things by her locker, throwing thick books inside her backpack and only one earphone in, it seemed like the perfect moment. 

“Y/n?”, he approached her with hesitant steps, “Hi.” She kept on zipping her backpack and pushing the door of the locker close, she was ignoring him and each second he grew more desperate. 

“Y/n, is everything okay?”, he insisted, “you seem off.” His attempts were useless, and he was about to let it go when he saw her hand fidgeting. “Y/n, please, tell me what’s wrong”, he cupped her hands and noticed how cold they were, “I just want to help. Maybe we can go finish the math project and I can try to cheer you up?”

That made her look at him, but he wished it hadn’t. Her eyes were dull and hard, a disgusted expression in her face that made him take a step back as she pulled her hands away from him. “I think it’s best if we finish it alone”, harsh, almost cruel, so different from her usual sweet and gentle voice. 

She left before he had time to redeem himself, and it felt like his legs were going to give out. 

----------------------

Oof it looks like Harry really fucked up. We’ll just have to wait for part numero cuatro :)

Part 4 is here

Masterlist is here

[susoftjockau]

The Party - Part Seven

Looking at plants was the type to inflame a ravenous hunger. Well, anything can make one hungry, so this wasn't a new experience for him even with the new context to it. If anything, this was one of the less intense but pleasing moments in his life, where he could enjoy a meal without that lulling buzz of deja vu he kept having when it came to eating in general — veggie burgers, salads, pizzas, somewhere located with the cheerleaders with no care in the world; it was a pattern that he got used to quickly.

This time it was a bit different: there was a light squeeze in his chest, the kind that kept him warm like a fireplace even with the cold walk out of the park and the goosebumps riding his arms. It must've been Connie; he wouldn't lie that she had been a small crush of his ever since they met — it didn't help that this intensified because of that magical statue he touched a week before that, being told that it granted miracles of romance, which he was a sucker for. He could question why he had such an affinity for her but it was already there for him if he squinted hard enough. It must’ve been her warm personality. Or her intelligence. Or anything else for that matter that kept him focused to his jam bud, staying right next to her as they exited the Japanese grounds for some food.

They found the truck on the outskirts of the garden — wafting of spice and vegetable, dream catchers dangling from the overhang, makeshift tables harboring a few families and teenagers for the night. Some were talkative, but many appeared to be relaxing, enjoying the solitude as the truck took orders for plates and cups of Mexican cuisine, the clang and tussle of kitchen utensils resounding within in an enthusiastic beat.

Connie took account of the menu boards plastered above the truck's open grate, a small frown on her lips. "Do you think they have salads?"

Steven looked through the contents. There were tacos, quesadillas, customized cups of horchata, and everything in-between, but there doesn't seem to be any that would fit a description of a salad. He knitted his eyebrows, there was some case for worry here. "We could ask for non-meat stuff? I could take out the stuff if I have to."

"I know that, but," she bit her lip, flinching at a loud clang of metal from the truck's kitchen, "I have to make sure their meals don't have too many carbs or cholesterol."

Oh. He felt a bit ashamed for forgetting that one tidbit: that his jam bud had a diet stricter than his. "Wellll, we'll just see where it goes. One of these dishes must have a lot of vegetables, they’re bound to help us with custom orders; they sound like they'll be okay with it if it makes their customers happy."

"I hope so." She rubbed her arm, but after a second of it she pulled it back down, like the action burned her upon contact. "I don't want my stomach to act up."

"We could find another restaurant if that works for you."

"No, no," she shook her head. "I'm okay, let's just ask them and see if we have to move or not."

He nodded. Sounds like a deal. "Alright."

The ordeal wasn't that worrisome when it came down to it. There were a slew of questions over which dishes had the most vegetables, which one harbored non-meat ingredients, and the typical pondering of choices they could pluck from the menu, both of them taking jabs on what would be the best dish — Connie more weary on her end than his. It wasn't a nervous wreck of a deal, but he could tell something was on her mind, something fumbling around her noggin like a pest on a wall. He had the patience; he had the time, yet he didn’t want to ignore it.

"You feeling okay, Strawberry?" The nickname caught her off guard. They were sitting at a table, facing each other with their meals. Steven had picked from a platter of small veggie tacos, and she was nibbling at her burrito, sweet potatoes peeking through the salsa verde, teeth hesitant on digging into the contents. It was a quiet affair, but there was a tension in the air, something he couldn't describe, yet there nonetheless. "You seem out of it."

"Am I?" Connie put her burrito down, wiping a sauce smear from her chin. Her eyes were downtrodden, looking away from him. "Sorry, I'm just thinking."

"You could tell me if it bothers you." He put one of his tacos onto her plate -- a peace offering, he called it, the breaking of tacos, even if he didn’t really break it and kept it in one piece.

She gave him a sheepish smile, putting the taco back onto his set. "Well…"

"I promise," he did a criss-cross motion in front of his chest, "won't say a word to anyone."

"I know you wouldn't." She grimaced slightly. "I'm just nervous to say it."

"Well," he said. "You don't have to tell me if you're nervous but I promise you that no matter what, I'll accept what you'll say."

"You're so sweet." Her sentence seemed to take him by surprise. Even she seemed to be surprised, tone twisting into something unfamiliar. "But yeah, I'll tell you, if it makes things a little bit easier."

"Remember, Connie," he said. "I'm always open."

"Mhm. Just give me a moment."

At the sight of her quick bite at her food, he smirked at her. "How is it?"

"It's good," she admitted, cheeks brushed with pink. "Better than I realized."

He couldn't help his giggle as she started back up again, putting the burrito down.

"It's just that," she fumbled with her fingers on the table, biting her lip, shoulders tense under the weak moonlight. "I get anxious over these types of events." She stopped, looking at him with inquiry in her stare like she was waiting for him to react. After a second, he nodded. That was enough. "When your friends were around, I'd feel like I'm drowning, overwhelmed by all of it — two of them are okay, yes, but having all of them surround me and ask questions made me want to get away...or dissociate."

"Ah…" He tried not to take offense to it. Being truthful was better than just lying to him, but somehow it still hit him that this would be hard. He can't just place her into his friend group with one step, it wasn't that simple; people had to adjust in their own ways, pacing themselves to something manageable. For Connie, she couldn't handle a crowd with all eyes on her, he'll have to take it slow or he won't have his favorite people around unless he wanted a chance of her having a panic attack.

"Okay." He said, taking a bite from his taco, chewing slowly. He needed a moment to ponder. Think. What could help her? How slow was he supposed to go? Where should they start? "You said you could manage how many at a time?"

"Two or less." Her voice went higher. "But if you really want me to get to know them, then I can try anything as long as it doesn't make me anxious."

"But you don't have to befriend them if you don't want to." He reminded her.

"That doesn't mean I don't want to." She stated. "Back at the food table, I did have a conversation with one of them; it didn't pull me into a fit or had me wanting to leave, it actually felt nice." Before he could respond, she added one more. "I'm open to trying something with you, with them, but I'll tell you if it's too much, if I can't handle it."

A sharp inhale. "You promise that?"

"I promise."

"Okay. Okay." Think. Think. Think. She could take two or less. She was able to find stuff to talk about with them without being uncomfortable. He had the patience to guide it and she had the honesty to tell him if anything went wrong. He rubbed his chin; there was an idea, but he had to get it through her before he could think of it further. "What about one-on-one time? We could schedule hangouts with them so only you and one of the girls could get to know each other. I could be a third party so you don't have to talk much if it gets awkward!"

Connie stared at him, uncertainty in her eyes — the intrigue, however, was churning in them. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Mumbles strung out from her lips. "I don't think a third party would be necessary for all of them. There are some cheerleaders that harbor more of an outgoing and talkative personality than some I've noticed. I could handle them, the only ones I'm worrying about are the ones who might be too much."

"So...I'll only come if you need me?"

"Mhm."

Okay, he thought, a smile beginning to grow on him. They were making progress; they were compromising. If they could tinker with it more, they should be able to make it work. He spoke up. "We could make a list of who'll go first? I can give you a description of each one and what they like to talk about and you can rate them on who you're most likely to get along with."

"Yeah." Her face lightened up. An ease was there, finally. "Yeah, that can work!"

"Do you have a piece of paper? I want to write the list down."

"What if we just use our phones?" She fished it out from her pocket.

"Oh yeah,” he couldn’t help his embarrassed giggle. “That works."

Progress was being made.

[blackmissfrizzle]

Hot for Teacher part 3

Title: Hot for Teacher part 3

Characters: Steve Rogers x black!reader

Summary: The reader and Steve finally have their date

Warnings: Pre-smut, creepy dudes, and a long ass chapter and no keep reading cuz its mobile

A couple of drinks after your little performance, everyone decided to call it a night and went home. Well everyone except Shantae, she went home with Sam. Steve offered to take you home, but you declined his offer but you told him you would text him when you got home.

As soon as you entered your home, you texted Steve that you made it because if you didn’t, you surely would’ve forgotten.

“Texting Rogers you made it home,” a familiar voice from the shadows asked.

You dropped your keys into the bowl by your door and sighed. “You can’t just text me if I made it home safely like a regular dad?”

Nick Fury never did anything like a regular dad, except the fussing part. You remember the whoopings you used to get because you decided to be a smartass.

Your dad let your pet cat, Goose down, emerged from his seat and gave you a hug. “I’m not a normal dad, sweetie.”

“I’ve noticed. What are you doing here so late, old man? I hope you don’t want a report on my night with Steve.”

Your dad let you out of his embrace and returned to the couch. “No, I’m not even worried about Rogers. Now if you were going out with Stark, we would have a problem. I’m praying that this thing with Rogers work out. Your mama is already planning your wedding and for her future grandkids.”

You threw a pillow at your dad. “You told mama about Steve!?” You slinked down the couch in despair, your mom’s been bugging you about kids since you were an only child. She didn’t care if you got married, she just wanted grandkids.

“You know she’s a better investigator than I am. I couldn’t lie to her.” Its true, no one could lie to your mom, she had a knack for getting to the truth. “Anyways, I’m here to officially recruit you,” your dad stated as he slid a manila folder towards you.

Inside of the folder were photos of a local gang leader, Terrence and he recruited a lot of kids that go to your school. He truly was a menace to society. He didn’t care who got hurt as long as money was lining his pocket. As you went through more photos, you saw Terrence with an older gentleman.

“The older guy with Terrence works for Ghost, a terrorist who probably has done as much as evil as HYDRA. I know you got a couple of students connected with Terrence. I need you to find out what Terrence has planned with Ghost.”

On occasion, you were known to get involved with your students’ personal lives if they were in trouble. One instance, you fought in an underground fight club match so your student wouldn’t have to, but that was different. Your dad wanted you to work for SHIELD in an official capacity and that was big deal.

You pinched your nose, “This is a one-time thing. And I’m only doing this for the kids.”

Knowing that he won, your dad broke out into a shit-eating grin that few people got to witness. “Thanks, sweetheart. I’ll have Hill send you a briefing within the next 72 hours and you’ll report to me on Saturdays. Now I’ll see myself out.” He gave you a kiss on the temple on his way out.

Great, in the same night you landed a date with Steve Rogers and became a SHIELD agent.

The following days you and Steve were texting and talking non-stop. Sometimes it was silly stuff about the stuff he missed while he was in the ice. At least he knew about the greats like, Marvin Gaye and Aretha, but you had to put him on Beyoncé and the masterwork of Lemonade. Other times you would talk about more serious stuff like, his time in the army or you training as a super spy as a child.

One day, Steve actually stopped by your school during your planning period to bring you lunch, since you told him earlier that you didn’t eat anything that day, because you were so busy. Even though, you couldn’t talk to him because you allowed some students to come for a tutoring session, he stayed and helped you by grading some papers. You were convinced that Steve was angel and you were praying that everything would work out.

Friday came before you knew it, but the day dragged on. Somehow, your students found out that your date with Steve was that night and they teased you all day long, especially since they could sense you were anxious. When 3:30 stroked, you practically ran out with the students and sped out the parking lot.

Arriving home in record time, you decided to try and take a nap, because if you stayed up you would’ve gotten ready early and been a nervous wreck. The week must’ve caught up with you, because you had no trouble taking a nap.

—

Soon, you found yourself knocking on Steve’s door at exactly 7pm. He invited you over for dinner and the dance lesson at his place, because when he went out in public people typically recognized him and asked for pictures and he didn’t want to subject you to that invasion of privacy yet.

The breath was knocked out of you when Steve opened the door. He had on an apron over a blue Henley and black jeans, and you didn’t know if it was the domesticity of the apron, the tightness of the Henley, or a combination of both, but you had a hard time stopping yourself from jumping Steve’s bones.

“Hey, come on in.” Steve waved you inside and pulled you into his warm embrace. He smelled like the food he was cooking and his cologne, and you wanted to drown yourself in that scent.

“I like your place. Its comfortable and welcoming.” Your eyes wandered Steve’s apartment. It didn’t feel like the typical bachelor pad. He had photos of his old and new friends placed decoratively, a record player, and a couch that made you sleepy from just looking at it.

Steve grabbed your purse and jacket to put them in a chair in the corner. “Thanks. Tony had Pepper come and decorate.”

The smell of the food had you gravitating towards the kitchen. Before you had a chance to look in the pot, Steve is pulled you towards him and shuffled you to a seat at the dinner table. “No peeking,” he jokingly reprimanded you.

You kissed your teeth in disappointment. “That’s not fair. I just wanted to see what was causing my stomach to growl. I should warn you Rogers, I don’t play about my food.”

Steve gave you a deep belly chuckle as he came back to the table with two plates. “Duly noted.” He set before you a plate of shrimp alfredo pasta, one of your favorite dishes. Steve Rogers was really pulling out all the stops if he kept it up, he might just get lucky, you thought to yourself.

As dinner began the two of you made small talk. You talked about how you had to stop a fight between two of your students, because Lyric stepped on Diego’s shoes and then they began arguing about how the other were too broke to afford good shoes. The joke was on them because, both of their Jordans were knockoffs but you didn’t have it in you to break their hearts. Steve told you how Tony caused the electricity to short-circuit during making a new suit.

“Okay Rogers, enough stalling! Its time for your dance lesson,” you announced at the end of dinner. You backed out of your seat and stood by Steve and reached out for his hand.

He grimaced and regretfully placed his hand in yours. “Promise you won’t make fun of me?”

To soothe his nerves, you kissed him on the cheek and whispered into his ear, “I promise.” It was definitely not the kiss that calmed him down, that made him more nervous, but it was the smile that you gave him while you looked into his eyes that did calm him down.

Steve scrolled through his phone until he selected the song he wanted, and then the bluesy guitar riffs of Tennessee Whiskey began to fill the room.

“Ohhh, you wanna learn how to two-step,” you joked.

The super soldier smiled and down casted his eyes to the floor. “Yeah, you did say you love country and the dance seems easy enough, but,” he held up his hand in objection. “I don’t think I’ll be ready for any twirls or lifts.”

It was your turn to give a belly-out laugh. “You’re that bad, huh?”

Steve pulled you into him and swayed the both of you side-to-side. “You’re about to see,” he whispered into your ear.

His dancing wasn’t so bad, but then again you two were only doing a basic slow dance. Confident that he could start doing the two-step, you instructed Steve that he had to take two steps forward and one step back.

After his failed attempts and a couple of stubbed toes, you took the lead to demonstrate how Steve should lead. You took the lead before with your friends, but this time was different because first, Steve obviously wasn’t a female and second, you felt smaller than your dancing partner.

“I think I got the hang of it now. I can lead if you want me to.” Steve commented after you being in the lead for fifteen minutes.

“Are you sure?” Instead of verbally responding, Steve took charge and he was much better than he was at the beginning of the lesson. He would stumble every so often and mumble ‘shit, I’m sorry’, but other than that he was great. Steve even managed to end your last dance with a twirl.

Currently the two you were sharing dessert while sitting on his couch and listening to music.

“So how did I do, teach?” Steve asked between bites.

You nodded your head side-to-side in deep thought. “Umm, it was rough in the beginning. Like for the life of me, I don’t understand how someone who fights in life or death situations and still trips over their own feet while dancing. But you got it at the end and that’s all that matters.”

“True, but I couldn’t have done it without my wonderful teacher.” Steve’s voice dropped lower as he intertwined his fingers with yours.

The both of you sat there in silence while the sexual tension filled the room until it boiled over. You don’t know who made the first move, but suddenly you were in Steve’s lap exchanging kisses. Steve must’ve had some practice since 1945, because the things his mouth was doing to yours made you wonder if he could do the same thing to your lower lips.

Abruptly, Steve pulled away to stop kissing you. “Damn, I forgot to ask. Are you okay with this?” Wow, only Steve Rogers would stop making out just to ensure he had consent. At that moment you knew Steve would own your heart sooner rather than later.

In response, you assaulted Steve with your lips and he gave a growl of approval. He flipped the two of you so you were laying on the couch while he was on top. Both of you were exploring the other’s body, getting dangerously close to start undressing the other.

Your hands were reaching for Steve’s belt buckle when your phone started ringing. Steve tried to get you to answer it, but you were too wrapped up in the idea of seeing what Steve was packing under his jeans.

“Doll, I really think you should answer it,” Steve suggested as the caller called for the second time.

Angrily you reached for the phone and answered, “Hello.”

“Umm, Ms. Y/L/N this is Nia.” Quickly your attitude was gone and you were on high alert. You gave some of your students your phone number, because you knew they had some troubles at home and you told them to not to hesitate to call you if they were in danger or trouble. If Nia was calling she was in some serious trouble, because she always had this jokester/tough girl exterior thing going on.

“Nia, what’s going on sweetie?” Steve was automatically on alert as he heard you say your student’s name.

“Can you come by, please? My…my…my…my mmm-mom owes these guys money and they’re beating on her and I-II-III-I think they’re coming for me next.” The young girl stuttered through her tears.

You were already grabbing your things before Nia explained the whole situation. “I’m on my way. Just lock yourself up until I get there, okay.”

“I already did. Thank you, Ms. Y/L/N.”

As you gathered your things, you didn’t notice Steve was getting ready as well. “I gotta go. Nia’s in trouble.”

“No problem. I’m going with and I’m driving.” You didn’t have time to argue with Steve and you were grateful anyway, so you hopped on the back of his motorcycle.

Before you got to Nia’s apartment door you could hear the fight in the hallway and no one in the complex would go in help, but they sure did have time to stand in the hallway and listen. If you weren’t on a mission to save Nia, you would’ve cuss they asses out.

Finally, you and Steve approached the door with his shield on his arm and your sai in your hands. Giving each other a nod, Steve finally kicked down the door.

The two of you were greeted to the sight of two men, who looked like they belonged on someone’s defensive line beating on Nia’s mom, who was clearly a drug addict. Then another figure caught your eye. It was another man and he was trying to kick down the door that most likely held Nia behind it.

The two guys hitting on Nia’s mom made eye contact with the two of you and made one of the smartest decisions they made that night. They ran.

“I’ll handle that one and you go get those two,” you ordered Steve as you nodded your head in the direction of the door.

“Be safe!” Steve yelled as he ran out the door.

The other asshat finally stopped pounding on the door and looked you up and down with a mix of lust and mirth. “What? Are you the new diversity hire for the Avengers?”

“Ha ha ha. You’re a real comedian. Why are you beating on my student’s mom and trying to burst into her room?”

All of the laughter left his face and it was replaced by a mask of anger. “Because that druggie bitch,” he pointed his gun at Nia’s mom. “Owes my boss money and she refused to pay up so I thought a little fun time with that little ho she calls a daughter could be a down payment.”

Disgusted at the man’s sick plans for Nia, you rolled your eyes. “You thought wrong.”

“Oh, what you gone do about it?” Ole dude pointed the gun in your direction.

You let out a desperate sigh and rolled your shoulders. “Listen, you and your crew ruined my date so I’m already pissed. So, are you sure you wanna do this?”

He looked you up and down in contempt. “Am I supposed to be scared of you, teach?” That’s all the answer you needed. Next thing you did was throw one of your sai’s into the man’s gun and sent a flying kick to his chest, effectively knocking him out.

After you cuffed him to the dining table, you knocked on Nia’s door. “Hey, Nia, sweetie. It’s Ms. Y/L/N. You can come out now.”

Tentatively Nia opened the door, but once she saw you she bum-rushed you. You stroked the young girl between her puff balls as you held her while she cried.

“Thank you, Ms. Y/L/N,” Nia confessed between sobs.

“No problem, sweetie. Are you ok?”

Nia pulled away from slightly to look up at you. “Yeah, I’m good. Sorry I ruined your date with Captain America.”

You grabbed the young girl by the shoulders and knelt down until you were eye level with her. “No, I’m happy you called. It means that you’re safe now.”

After calming Nia down, you checked on her mother and gave her a gentle but stern warning about using drugs. It seemed that the woman took it to heart, but God only knows.

Once you were sure that they were okay, you took the intruder to meet with Steve outside. He currently had the other two guys knocked out as well.

Steve pointed at the guy you were dragging. “You know you could’ve called me to get him.”

You shrugged your shoulders and gave a look of indifference. “Eh, I liked that he kept bumping his head on the stairs. And besides I need the arm workout.”

All three men were unconscious and you needed them awake. With no water on hand you had to kick them to jolt them awake, but it’s not like you felt bad about it.

A chorus of ‘what the fuck’ pierced the air as they awoke.

“Okay, this is how it’s gonna go. All three of you are now my bitches and work for me now and gonna be my informants. I need you to tell me about any information you have on Terrence and any business dealings he has with a Ghost. And if you don’t wanna comply or I feel that you’re jerking my chain, I’ll throw your ass at a SHIELD black site like that,” you threatened with a snap of your finger.

The douchebags were pissed off and wanted to say something, but one look at your face and they knew you weren’t playing. You had those Fury genes to thank for that.

Each grumpily agreed to your terms of conditions. Before they left you did threaten to cut off their balls if they attacked Nia and her mother or any other woman like that again.

—

When the two of you returned, you immediately apologized to Steve. “I’m sorry, I ruined your night. I’m sure you get tired of fighting and that’s exactly what you did on your night off.”

Steve reached out to you and placed a kiss on the back of your hands. “You didn’t ruin anything. Tonight was perfect and I like that you’ll drop anything for your students to help them out.”

“Thanks, everything was really great tonight. I hope we can do it again, but I should go. I have an early morning tomorrow.”

As you reached for the doorknob, Steve pulled you back and ask about turning the guys into informants. You informed Steve of you officially becoming a SHIELD agent to find Ghost through Terrence’s crew.

“I mean it’s only if you’re comfortable,” Steve scratched the back of his neck as a nervous tick. “But since it’s late and my place is closer to the tower, you could stay here for the night. But that’s only if you want to,” Steve hurriedly added on the last part.

Steve’s place was closer and he was harmless, you thought to yourself. “If you don’t mind, I would love to stay.”

The soldier was elated you decided to stay. He tried to give you his guest room, but you preferred to sleep in his bed with him.

Thankfully, you always had a go bag, so all you needed from Steve was something to sleep in.

When you emerged from the bathroom, Steve automatically grabbed a pillow to cover his hard on. He didn’t think he would have such a strong reaction to you wearing his shirt. Right at that moment he vowed that every chance he had, he would try to get you into one of his shirts.

“What are you staring at, pretty boy,” you teased, knowing full well Steve was staring at your curves.

Climbing into the bed and straddling his lap, you felt Steve’s erection. Deciding to be a tease, you rolled your hips around, which elicited a sinful moan from Steve’s mouth.

Promptly, Steve plopped you on the other side of the bed.

“What the hell, Steve? What’s that for?”

Suddenly, there was a shift in the air. Gone was the sweet and nervous Steve, but there was the confident and dominant Steve.

He gripped your chin and pulled your face closer to his.

“When I fuck you, you won’t be able to properly function for the next couple of days. And I doubt you want to accidentally call me daddy in front of your dad tomorrow, but if you do, then by all means let’s get to it.”

Steve was motioning to take off his shirt when you let out a meek, “I’m good.” You wanted nothing more than to be underneath Steve writhing in pleasure, but the way he may it sound you would be silly putty in the end and you didn’t need that your first day at SHIELD.

The blonde pulled his shirt back down and smirked at you. He kissed the side of your head and told you good night before he wrapped his arm around your waist.

Now you had to go to sleep hoping there wouldn’t be a wet puddle on the bed from your dreams of Steve screwing you silly.

Tags: @jojolu @ladyamandapanda12 @kashirenae92 @areubeingserved @dumbchick @wakanda-inspired @blacknthemix @pastelastronomy24 @chaneajoyyy @chonisberonica @everything-is-awesomesauce @blackreaders-assemble @nickidub718 @valkyriesnymph @marvelmaree @lildashofmelanin @cyrioussoul @destinio1 @toniilaney @euphoric05 @yoyolovesbucky @the-undecided-compass

[lostinaseaoffictionalbliss]

Bark At The Moon Part 4

A/N: My taglist for this is open as well as my forever tags. However I warn you guys I’m no longer writing smut (it’s a personal decision) and I’m currently working on an original book so Idk how much writing I’ll get done in the future

Pairing: werewolf!Sam x OC

Word Count: 1431

Warnings: this is for the story over all and not any specific chapter. Language, violence, attempted rape, torture, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) marking (not ABO even though Sam is an Alpha) but I’ll will tag the chapters appropriately.

Nola walked around the hotel room and checked everything out. While she had no intentions of having sex with Sam tonight she still wanted the room to be perfect. This was their first date and one of the most important in any relationship. She wanted everything to be just right.

Dinner had already been ordered. Normally she would have went with a couple of burgers, but looking at Sam something told her that he was more into health foods than he was into junk. Because of that she had ordered them a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, Tuscan chicken, and a nice Caesar salad. The table in the center of the room was set up with a couple of candles and a small vase of Lilies.

The room had a dimmer switch and she had turned the lights down low, but made sure they had enough light to see by. She had also set up a small diffuser with lavender and cedar oil. She loved the smell of the two together and it also helped to calm her nerves.

As much as she had told herself there was nothing to worry about she couldn’t help herself. Sam was gorgeous. An absolute god if there ever was one. He was also the Alpha of his pack. He exuded that power and confidence without even trying. It made her feel things she never had before and that alone was enough to make her anxious.

And when Sam knocked on the door ten minutes before he was supposed to arrive it made her jump. She opened the door and took him in. The tall werewolf was wearing dark wash jeans, a dark red Henley and a red and white flannel over top. It was enough to make her mouth water and her panties wet. Despite telling herself sex wasn’t on the table tonight her body couldn’t help reacting to him.

Sam smirked as he took her in. He loved the white vintage dress with its red floral pattern. It hugged all the right places; looking classy and sexy at the same time. His eyes darkened the moment he smelled her arousal and he had to remind himself that this was a first date; he didn’t need to be acting all macho Alpha werewolf right now. They were supposed to be getting to know one another. He couldn’t do that if all he was thinking about was sex.

“You look stunning,” he said softly as he stepped into the room. His presence along with his scent seemed to fill it up without any real effort on his part.

“Thank you. You look extremely handsome yourself. I already ordered dinner for us. I hope that’s okay?” Nola gazed up at him, licking her lips.

He pulled her chair out for her. “It’s fine. I’m sure whatever you ordered will be perfect.”

“Tuscan chicken.” She took her seat and not for the first time she was struck by how beautiful Sam’s eyes were as she gazed into them. They were a kaleidoscope of color and she could drown in it.

“That’s perfect. I love chicken. I’m glad you didn’t order burgers. Not that I mind people eating them and even I will from time to time, but it’s very rare.”

She laughed softly. “I like my bacon cheeseburgers from time to time, but I wanted something healthier and a little less fast-food jointy. I also got the vibe that this was more up your alley.” She poured them both a glass of wine. “I hope white wine is okay.”

“I’ll be honest, I don’t know much about wine. Normally we drink beer or whisky. I can’t remember ever having wine.” He took a sip and his brows shot up. “That’s actually really good.” He liked the zesty lime flavor with hints of oak the moment the dry wine touched his tongue. It was new, but certainly not an unwelcome taste.

She beamed. “White wine goes well with chicken, but if you eat darker meats then red wine goes better. I’m glad you like it.”

“I do. How did you learn so much about wine and pairing it with food?” He took a bite of his salad, gazing at her.

“I’ve been working here since I finished college. I’m not the boss, but I’m top of the tier. Everyone comes to me and I give out the orders. The only one above me is the owner. Which means I get stuck doing all the paperwork and making sure things are in order.”

“That’s really cool. Do you like working here?”

“Yeah. I do. I love my job. It’s tiring, but I get to meet so many people and really it’s a fun job. Especially when planning events.”

His eyes sparkled with mirth as he watched her. While he continued eating his dinner it was clear she was his main focus. He watched the way her hands moved as she spoke. The way she politely took bites of her food and made sure to keep her mouth closed as she chewed. He loved the way her eyes lit up as she spoke of the things she enjoyed. Most of all he loved the fact she was so at ease in his presence. It wasn’t often that people relaxed around him. He was a large man, intimidating size wise, and the fact he was a werewolf gave him that allure of darkness. Most found that a good reason to stay on alert. Not Nola though. That made his heart skip a beat and gave him hope.

Nola watched Sam as she ate. Their conversation stayed light throughout dinner and she felt completely comfortable with him. His large size didn’t intimidate her, nor did him being a wolf bother her. Her eyes watched his long thick fingers curl around his wine glass and she imagined how they would feel holding her hips, cupping her breasts, sliding into her warm heat to bring her pleasure. Nothing about Sam Winchester made her nervous. His very presence did many things to her, but eliciting fear was not one of them.

She covered up her plate once she was finished. “That was good. Tonight has been really good so far. I’ve enjoyed your company and talking to you. Getting to know you better.”

Sam took another sip of wine and leaned back in his chair. “I’ve enjoyed tonight too. It’s nice to have someone feel comfortable with me and what I am. I think it’s a good sign for our relationship.”

“I think so too. I really like you, Sam. More than I think I’ve ever liked anyone else. And it’s not just because you’re drop dead gorgeous. You’re sweet and kind. You’re sassy and kinda funny too. You make me feel safe, but you also awaken a lot of other feelings. Feelings that I hope to explore in the near future.”

Sam’s eyes darkened, the hazel iris almost disappearing completely. “I know the feelings I awaken in you. I could smell it yesterday and I could smell it the moment you opened that door.”

“Even over my lotion and the diffuser?” Her cheeks were flushed and she was squirming in her seat. She hadn’t had a clue that the slick gathering in her panties had a strong enough smell for him to pick up on.

“Even over all that, but we aren’t there yet. As much as I want to pick you up, pin you to that bed, and rut you with abandon I won’t.”

She whimpered softly at the imagery. “I wouldn’t say no if you did.”

“I know, but when I take you, claim you as mine...I want it to be because you came to me and asked for it. Not because I let the animal in me take over. You deserve better than that.”

She stood and walked over to his side of the table. “That right there,” she said softly, “is why I trust you and feel comfortable with you.” She leaned in and kissed him. He could easily take her and she would be powerless to stop him; both physically and mentally as he had that hold over her. Yet here he was saying he wanted it to be her choice. It made her like him just that much more.

Sam’s large hands cradled her face as he returned the kiss. “Does this mean you’ll meet my pack? I want them to get to know you too.”

“Yeah. I’ll meet your pack.” She knew his pack was his family and it was important to him that they get along.

****

Likes don’t spread my work! Please reblog and leave a comment if you enjoyed this! I love hearing from you guys and knowing what you think and hope to see!

[harryandmolly]

The Long Way Home -12- FINAL

A/N: what a brilliant journey! thank you ALL for your incredible support and feedback. you all mean the world to me. I’m extremely proud of this whole series and I hope the ending satisfies you all. (A note for the end: I am not a lyricist so I stole Sugarland’s “Little Miss” and made it Emma’s. Highly recommend you give it a listen to give yourself the full picture while you read)

Summary: His world is a little rocked when Shawn is joined on his 2019 world tour by Emma, a former child star with a chip on her shoulder and a voice that haunts him.

Warnings: Language, family angst, Finality (TM)

Word count: 7.9k (ta daaaa!)

“Now put yer teeny little fingers there… and there.”

Emma obeyed. Emma always obeys.

Grandpa Norm stroked the strings and a pretty noise came out. Emma looked down, eyes wide.

“See, lil girl? You can do it.”

Emma lies in bed, bare feet planted on her Ravenclaw duvet, staring at the ceiling. She’s blasting Shawn’s latest album from her multi-thousand dollar stereo system with her hands folded over her stomach and she’s never felt more like a moody teenager.

She’s never been allowed to be a moody teenager, so maybe this was some sort of box she had to check to level up.

She closes her eyes and he’s there again, face red and panicked, fingers gripping her car window as he jogged to keep up. She didn’t look back when they drove away toward Reagan National for the red-eye back to LAX. She couldn’t.

She drafted six different long-winded texts between the security line and landing in Los Angeles. She sent none of them.

It’s not so much that she had to leave him – she knew that was coming in a few weeks when tour ended anyway. She’s been emotionally preparing for that. It’s more the disappointment she knows he felt at her giving in to Sandra. That’s why she was so desperate to explain it to him – he has to know about the trump card. He has to understand.

She waits until she’s striding into her house, Sandra trailing behind tapping away on her phone, to call him. It’s 4am in LA which means it’s 7am in Boston but she’s betting it doesn’t matter because she doesn’t imagine he slept either.

He answers on the first ring and listens while she sobs out the whole story, the whole sordid affair. He spits curses about Sandra in between her ragged breaths but lets her get it out. She knows he wants to protest, wants to tell her she should’ve stood up. But Emma knows Sandra. She knows when she’s bluffing. And she wasn’t.

“So… that’s it? You’re confined to your room?” he whispers.

She looks around. “Yeah. Or the house, at least. Ashley’s called me about eighty times since we were papped at LAX this morning. I’ll give you one guess who arranged that Kodak moment.”

Shawn sympathizes as much as he can, but he’s angry and she can hear it in his voice. She understands. She’s angry too. She’s so angry she can’t see straight. But she’s so tired. He talks to her until she falls asleep and then he leaves for the gym, sending her a text with a heart emoji and a promise to call her again later.

It’s been eight days since Emma has left the house. She’s trying to do the math in her head of how many hours that is when something taps her leg. She looks over at Georgie who’s lying in the same position, her bony knees pointed up at the ceiling, looking pensive. Georgie nods at the speakers. Emma turns down “Where Were You In the Morning.”

“Are you hungry?”

Emma nods. Georgie nods back and hops off the bed, scurrying in fuzzy purple socks out the bedroom door, closing it on her way out.

Georgie arrived the evening after Sandra and Emma got back to Hollywood. Emma was asleep – she slept all day after she and Shawn talked. Georgie crept into Emma’s room, turned on the lamp and crawled into bed.

Emma stirred. “G?”

Georgie’s wise old eyes stared back at her. She was expressionless, a face only a sister, another half of a soul could read.

Emma’s face crumpled until she was racked with sobs. Georgie dragged her face into her shoulder and rocked her until she calmed and fell asleep again.

The next morning, Sandra announced she and Georgie would be moving in and they’d all be spending time at home for a while to “regroup.” It was essentially Sandra-enforced house arrest. Georgie screamed, slammed doors, threw a fit unlike Emma had ever seen. But she was too tired to fight. She just watched.

She doesn’t leave the room now. She can’t look at Sandra’s face. She’s afraid she may claw it off. Georgie calmed down after her initial outburst and plays liaison now, occasionally relaying messages and couriering food.

Georgie returns to her sister’s boyfriend’s voice blasting through the wall. She closes the door again and climbs on the bed, offering Emma a plate of grapes, cheese and crackers. Emma plants a wet kiss on her cheek and Georgie sneers and giggles.

Georgie waves at the music again. Emma turns it down reluctantly, wanting to drown herself in the emotion of “Why.”

“Can I ask you something?” Georgie murmurs, smacking her lips like she always does when she eats. Emma shrugs and pops a grape in her mouth.

“What was your first time like?”

Emma’s jaw goes still mid-chew. Without meaning to, she relives her first sexual experience in fast-forward mode in her head, raising her eyebrows and wincing slightly.

Georgie snorts. Emma hears an anxious tone in it.

“That bad?”

Emma runs her tongue along her bottom lip, considering how to answer. “Honestly? Yeah. It hurt. I wasn’t ready. And it didn’t mean anything to him. It didn’t really mean that much to me, either.”

Georgie schools a calm look on her face. Emma takes another grape between her fingers, studying it.

“What’s up, G? Are you having sex?”

Emma’s heart pounds when she asks like she’s a nervous mom. She feels like one sometimes. Someone ought to around here.

Georgie’s quiet a beat too long. “I might be about to.”

Emma wants to crawl under the bed. She’s so horrified that she knows nothing about this, has no clue who her sister could be considering sleeping with. She’s been so wrapped up in her own shit, insulated by fame and Shawn and her own fucking ego. She feels nauseous but keeps a straight face as she encourages Georgie to go on.

“I’ve been talking to Holland Dittrich’s older brother Josh.”

“Jooooosh,” Emma teases in a deep voice, rolling her eyes, “That’s such a teenage boy name. Where do all the Joshes go after they turn 21? It’s like they disappear.”

Georgie snickers. “Shut up. He’s cool. He’s a rising senior at Belfort. Captain of the lacrosse team. He wants to go to Stanford pre-med. He’s like, perfect. He likes the same music as me. I even played him “Lost in Japan” last week and he really liked it. Like, I could tell he was into it.”

Emma picks at her grape and smiles gently. She kind of loves that liking Shawn’s music is a metric Georgie’s using for boys now. Shawn will like it too when Emma tells him.

“Have you been out with him?”

“Not yet. We’re catching a movie this weekend. I think he’s going to ask me to Homecoming in the fall.”

Emma nods like seasoned big sisters are supposed to even though she’s never been to a school dance in her life. Well, that’s not strictly true – she’s been to a set of a school dance for Fake It and had her first onscreen kiss there. She doesn’t think that experience counts, though.

“And you’re thinking about having sex with him.” Emma’s repeating it out loud more for herself than for Georgie. She’s trying to wrap her head around the idea.

“I mean, yeah. Seems like a good idea. He’s nice, he likes me. He’s had girlfriends before so he probably knows what he’s doing.”

Emma sews her mouth shut over the words “THAT’S NO GUARANTEE” springing up.

She stays casual. “Yeah, if he’s good to you, if you want to do it, sure. I have condoms. Always bring your own.”

Georgie smiles in that unnervingly wise way she does. “That’s not what I mean, Em. I just… I don’t know if I want to wait for someone I love.”

Shawn’s rosy face and perfect smile appears in Emma’s mind. Her heart aches. It’s all she can do not to reach for her phone and call him just to hear his voicemail.

She nods, sighing. “I hear that. I get it. Sex is a personal thing. But it doesn’t have to be with someone you love. I think it should at least be someone you like. I…” She trails off, shrugging.

“What?” Georgie prods.

Emma hesitantly continues. “Despite… everything, I don’t regret any of my sexual history. Yeah, my first time sucked. Most first times do. And I didn’t have sex with someone I loved at all until Shawn. And it was mind-blowing and so different,” she feels herself grinning and watches Georgie mirror it, “But there was a lot I learned about myself and men and sex before I got to that point and I don’t regret any of it.”

“Was… was it perfect with Shawn?”

Just there, Georgie goes from wise old owl to actual 16-year-old girl and Emma gets to feel like a competent older sister for once. She lends her a crooked smile.

“As close to perfect as anything can get. He was so… he was so gentle. And affectionate. And just… everything I wanted. Everything I deserved.”

Georgie nods thoughtfully. “I want that too. Someday.”

Emma pops her grape in her mouth and pats Georgie’s knee. “Hopefully you won’t have to wait too long. If Joooooosh feels right for the first time, do it. Enjoy it. Know it’ll probably get better, but learn from it. Learn what you like, what you’re into. And don’t be shy to tell him, boys like that, I promise.”

Georgie’s nodding again. Emma’s phone buzzes against her hip. Georgie snatches it away before Emma can answer.

“Hi Shawn!” Georgie quips, her voice going up an embarrassing several octaves that Emma will mock her for later.

“Hey Georgie,” Shawn chuckles, “How’s house arrest?”

“Fine. Emma and I are eating grapes and sulking in her room. How’s tour?”

Emma stiffens. Georgie immediately regrets the question. Shawn feels the change in tone and bites his lip.

“It’s ok. Not as fun now. Can I talk to Em?”

“Yeah,” Georgie murmurs, nodding, “Bye, Shawn.”

Emma takes the phone. Georgie takes the plate of food and scampers out of the bedroom.

Emma curls up on her side. “She’s asking me about sex.”

Shawn giggles. “Oh no.”

“Don’t laugh at me. Your sister’s not that much younger than mine.”

“Oh god, don’t say that,” Shawn whines, “I’m so not ready for that.”

“Yeah, well, when she starts asking questions, send her my way. Apparently I’m the guru.”

“Good to know,” Shawn hums, “What did you tell her?”

“She asked about my first time. I told her it was garbage and most first times are—” Shawn interrupts her with a snort of agreement, “But you learn and you grow and it’s better with someone you love but you don’t have to wait for that if you don’t want to.”

Shawn bobs his head. “Very wise.”

“She asked about us.”

She can hear Shawn’s reflective smile through the phone. She returns it.

“What did you say?”

“I told her it was as close to perfect as anything is in this stupid world.”

Shawn’s quiet. It’s a weighty silence – it’s an I love you silence, an I miss you silence, a why did you leave silence.

“I can’t lose her, Shawn. It would end me,” Emma whispers, closing her eyes and feeling threatening tears rub at her throat.

He’s quiet again for a few seconds. “I know. We’ll figure it out. You’ll figure it out.”

The words are simple and seemingly unhelpful but from him, they feel good and real. They talk for another few minutes before he has to go to soundcheck and tries not to let her know that because he doesn’t want to remind her what she’s missing but he’s in the venue and does a lousy job of hiding from the loading in noise. She wishes him a good show and they exchange blushing I love yous like a couple of kids who are still getting used to the words.

+

Shawn’s little fingers curl into his fists. He can’t quite catch his breath. His jerking heaves of air are fluttering the sweaty curls on his forehead as he stomps out of the rink.

He’s never felt this before. He barely knows what this is. He thinks it’s rage, despair even, but he’s never seen it before, doesn’t know how to recognize it.

He’s been practicing so hard. He was in three different hockey camps this summer. Not making the travel team is the worst thing that’s ever happened to anyone, and it’s just happened to him. He has no idea how to deal with this feeling. It’s swallowing him.

Shawn and anger are admittedly not well acquainted.

He’s seething on the sidewalk after he loses sight of the D.C. cab’s taillights. He can feel the heat radiating off him as his blood boils. He takes enormous steps back into the hotel. He doesn’t hear a word Andrew’s saying, only a dull ringing in his ears as the elevators carry him up to their floor. It’s not until Andrew follows him into his room and Shawn gets the chance to sit on the bed and gather himself that he even understands what he’s saying.

“You should’ve told me,” Andrew almost barks. Andrew doesn’t really get mad either. Especially not at Shawn. Shawn’s brow furrows.

“Told you what?”

“That you’re fucking Emma Kingston!” Andrew cries, throwing his hands out.

Shawn’s jaw juts out, clenching hard. He presses his balled fists into the bed.

“I am not fucking Emma Kingston. I’m in love with her.”

Andrew is silent, flabbergasted. His jaw hangs open. “You… what?”

“I love her. I’m in love with her. She’s the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. She’s got more talent in her little finger than I have in my whole body. She knows more about music and the industry than anyone I’ve ever met, including you. She is so sharp and so funny and so thoughtful and so sexy and I’m crazy, stupid in love with her.”

Andrew suddenly looks exhausted. He has this way about him where he’s all energy until something hits him too hard and he just slumps. He sinks into a chair and hangs his face in his hands. Shawn bristles.

“Why does this fucking matter?”

“Why does it matter?” Andrew repeats in a half-crazed chuckle, “Because it does, Shawn! Because everything you do matters. Especially the romantic stuff. The driving force of your fanbase is female. Females that want to date you. So when you’re dating someone, it fucking matters.”

Shawn balks. “I’m not gonna not date someone because it’ll hurt business, Andrew!”

“I’m not saying that! I’m saying there’s a process to these things. One of the things we talked about when I signed on was honesty. Honesty always. I can’t do my job if I don’t have all the pieces. You should’ve fucking told me.”

“I couldn’t. If anyone on her team knew, especially once the Kyle Dillon thing started…”

“Yeah! The Kyle Dillon thing! You realize if this gets out it’s going to look like a weird love triangle? Or worse, like you stole Kyle’s girlfriend. Is that what you want?”

Andrew’s getting hysterical and it’s really pissing Shawn off. He hangs his head and closes his eyes to breathe.

“You know that’s not what I want. I… fuck, I didn’t mean to make your life harder, man, I just… I wanted to be with her. This was what she needed from me. I’m… I’m sorry, dude.”

Shawn’s apology seems to quiet Andrew’s frazzled brain. He nods his acceptance. They’re both quiet for a while, raking hands through their hair and thinking too hard.

“Well… it’s probably better she’s off the tour, then.”

Shawn perks up. “What?”

“Until we figure out how to approach this, you guys can’t be public. Every day you were together was a risk. You can’t see her again until we set up a strategy.”

“A strategy?” Shawn cries, “What the fuck? This is my life, Andrew!”

“Yeah!” Andrew bites back, “Your life! And you hired me to manage it. This is how this stuff goes when you’re Shawn Mendes. Dude, we’ve talked about this. You know we have. You knew this was never going to be easy. It’s harder when it’s someone like Emma who’s out there in the public eye with you. We need a strategy.”

Shawn fumes. He has half a mind to jump on a plane to LA and be seen making out with Emma very publicly somewhere just to buck the system but he can’t and he feels impotent and small. He’s not used to that.

Andrew leaves him there after a few minutes. He’s lying face up on his bed missing her so much already he can barely breathe.

He didn’t know it was going to be like this. He didn’t know that the shitty things that happened to her would feel like they happened to him too. He didn’t know he’d feel her wounds as deep as he feels his own. He’s tethered now and she’s across the country so he feels stretched and uncomfortable and breathless.

He closes his eyes, tries to play her song in his head. He hums it, bounces his knee, wills it to distract him.

His eyes open. He has an idea.

+

The tall, spindly woman kneels in front of Emma. She’s held in place by her father’s rough hands on her shoulders so she can’t run and hide behind her mother’s dress. Emma blinks.

“Hello, Emma. I’m Margaret. I’m going to help you become a star.”

Emma frowns and sees something she doesn’t like in the flat brown eyes staring back at her.

“Ok,” she whispers.

The other shoe had to drop eventually, Angelique reminds herself. It was all going too well. The transition from Margaret to her had been too seamless. With her finely honed senses and slight paranoia, she should’ve felt this coming. Her hackles should’ve been up.

She let her guard down. She finally felt comfortable with what she was doing, like she was in the right place at the right time managing the right person. Emma felt like her teammate.

She was loading into the bus when Shawn first sprinted past her red-faced looking like he’d just seen a ghost. Andrew followed quickly after, shooting her a firm glance.

“Call your client. She’s getting on a fucking plane.”

Angelique felt her stomach fall into her shoes. Whatever this is, it can’t fucking happen.

But it did. Emma went home without a fight. Sandra smugly responded to every email about tour cancellation details. She patronizingly yammered on about Emma needing “mental space” and “time with her beloved family” like she was writing a fucking press release instead of just lying to Angelique.

She’s between a rock and a hard place now, the rock being Emma, the hard place being the rest of Emma’s team who are clamoring for answers.

Emma was apologetic, to her credit. She explained the whole situation. Angelique was about to launch into a somewhat unprofessional and probably really inappropriate tirade about getting Georgie legally emancipated when she heard something in Emma’s voice that gave her hope.

She doesn’t have a name for it, whatever it was. It was a small tinkling of something underneath that told Angelique in her gut that this isn’t over yet. Angelique had been thinking of Emma like a boxer who’d been hit hard and was waiting for the countdown so the round could end. After that phone call, she realized something – Emma isn’t down for the count. She’s waiting. She’s resting up. She’ll come out swinging.

She’s not out of this yet.

+

“I don’t want another lesson,” Shawn insists in the middle seat in the back of his mom’s Volvo, “I just learned notes. I want to play a song.”

“Love, you have to learn the notes to play a song,” his mom says softly.

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “I can learn on YouTube faster than a lesson. Seriously.”

Karen relents. Let him learn on YouTube, she thinks. Maybe that’ll hold his interest.

Shawn sits cross-legged at the end of the stage, knees bouncing as the FaceTime ringtone blares at him mockingly.

Her face is warm and pink when she answers him. She’s just finished Pilaticardio, it looks like. He flushes at the idea of her in her tight Lululemon pants and shakes the idea from his head before it can sprout.

“Hey, you,” she greets. Her voice isn’t tired so much as her whole being seems tired. It makes him want to wrap her up in his arms and shut it all out. He can’t do that, so he tries something else.

“Got a surprise for you,” he says breathlessly, a little giddy, nodding and biting his lip.

Her eyebrows lift. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he nods at someone off camera and suddenly he’s not holding the phone, “I’m passing you off to Geoff. I want to show you something.”

He hurries adorably to the center of the stage and thanks Joey the tech for the guitar he’s handed. Emma smiles, watching him get ready to command his space. Maybe he’s written something new.

He starts first. She knows within two seconds what he’s playing. And he didn’t write it.

She did.

He plucks expertly at his acoustic, bobbing his head, feeling her song in his bones. The breath leaves her body in a sweeping exhale. She doesn’t remember to breathe for a few seconds until the pounding of her heart races over the deep tones of the accompanying piano.

He closes his eyes and steps into the mic, brow wrinkling as he sings her words, sings her heart to an empty stadium. Each piece of her arrangement comes in like she told him, like she envisioned. The drums shake the song, indicate something big is coming. Shawn carries it forth, leading steadily into the throbbing pre-chorus, tapping his foot and shrugging a hand around the mic. The piano climbs with him, the drums steadily increase in volume until the song reaches a climactic pause. When it comes back in, she folds her hands over her mouth in shock.

It's everything she wanted, everything she imagined it could be. It’s big, it’s bold, it’s emotional, it’s her.

And he did it for her.

He plays through the whole song and she falls in love with it all over again. She recognizes every beat, every note, every choice made as her own. He’s playing it for her not as himself, but as her proxy. He’s made no customizations, no little twists. It’s just hers exactly as it’s meant to be.

As the last note fades out, Emma finally uncovers her mouth. Geoff comes around the camera to peek shyly at her reaction. She offers him a watery grin and he smiles back sincerely for the first time since she met him. He moves his head so Emma can see Shawn hustling to the front of the stage to get his phone back.

He’s rosy, a little sweaty and grinning with a mad look in his eye.

“So? Did you like it?”

Emma opens her mouth. A choked sob escapes where words were meant to be. She claps a hand over her mouth and coughs a laugh.

“It’s… it’s perfect. That was it, that was what I wanted. I… oh my god. I’m so—”

She cuts herself off, shaking her head. He gets it. He’s been blessed to have had this moment himself before – to watch his brain child songs get the live treatment, to feel real and big and beautiful. He knows how this feels. That’s why he wanted to give it to her.

“It’s yours, Em. You did that. You did all of it.”

Emma swallows. She tries to regulate her breathing, muttering about thanking his band for learning it, for playing it so beautifully, thanking Geoff for holding the damn phone. Shawn laughs.

“Face it, Emma Kingston. You’re a fuckin’ rockstar.”

Emma’s laugh bubbles and spills as her tears do. Shawn walks off with his phone for some privacy as she gets it out of her system and wrenches at her self-control.

“Thank you,” she manages through a throat full of snotty tears.

He bobs his head shyly. “It’s be alright, Em.”

+

Emma held Georgie’s pudgy little hand as they walked into Somerset School for Georgie’s first day of kindergarten. Being a rough and tumble second grader, Emma felt big and cool. She’s never seen a real first day of school before, only on sets. She’s glad these aren’t kids her age or she’d feel a lot less cool.

Georgie tugs at her hand. “What if I don’t make friends?”

Emma shakes her head. “You’ll make friends. Plus, even if you don’t, I’m your friend.”

On the 12th day of confinement, Emma and Georgie lie side by side on Emma’s bed. It’s not an unfamiliar position to them now.

Emma’s trying so hard not to feel it, but there’s something in the air. She tries not to think that it’s the last day of tour and Shawn’s playing the Barclays Center in Brooklyn and she tries not to feel like a part of her is there and she needs to go get it back.

But Emma doesn’t always get what she wants, so her efforts are pretty useless.

With a shaky sigh, she reaches her foot out and kicks Georgie’s leg to get her to turn down “Ruin.”

Georgie turns onto her side to regard her big sister. Emma looks a little less tired now. And resigned, somehow.

“G,” Emma whispers, and it’s the same voice she used when she told Georgie Grandpa Norm died while she was at camp, “It’s time to go talk to mom.”

Georgie shakes. She doesn’t know why. This is Emma’s fight, she’s just back up.

Even as she thinks it to herself, she knows it’s flatly untrue. Any fight of Emma’s is a fight of hers. And this, this fight, this cosmic inertia of mother and daughter, she’s a part of this too.

She’s a few paces behind Emma as they pad into the living room, unintimidating in pajamas at 11am.

Sandra is sitting on the couch in gym wear typing away at her phone with E! News on in the background. She doesn’t notice when they walk in.

“Mom,” Emma prompts. Georgie feels relieved not to hear a quiver in it.

Sandra’s head snaps up. She hasn’t seen or heard from her eldest daughter in days. She beams at her two girls who’ve come to see her.

“Hey babies,” she coos, setting her phone down, “Want to go get some lunch? Might be time to get Emma Jean back out in the world.”

“Mom, I love you,” Emma states.

Georgie’s eyes blow wide open. Sandra’s mirror them. To be honest, neither of them is sure of the last time Emma said that. Or any of them said that. They aren’t that kind of family.

“Babygirl, I love you too,” Sandra hums, her voice lowering, misunderstanding the direction of this.

“I love you and I don’t want to hate you anymore. So you need to leave my house.”

Sandra’s brow furrows. Her eyes briefly touch Georgie’s – she’s equally stunned. But Emma is a mountain that will not be moved. Not this time.

“Honey, we talked about this, I know it’s been a hard few months, a hard few years even, but this—“

“No. We’re not doing this again. I’m not gonna do this dance with you.”

Emma takes Georgie’s hand and tugs her forward. Georgie stumbles along behind her until they’re both sitting on the oversized ottoman facing their mother, who’s sitting straight as a rod.

“I’ve spent the last couple weeks thinking. I’ve been thinking about why it was easier for me to say the things I said to Margaret than it was to say them to you. I’ve been going over it and over it. It didn’t make sense. She was as much my mother as you ever were,” a flash of real human hurt crashes across Sandra’s face for a split second, “so why was it so different?

“The truth is, Margaret has always respected me a little more than you have. Maybe because I was always her client and I was always your daughter. And at the end of the day, she was never going to be permanent, no matter how entwined in my life she was. Not like you are.

“I think because you never respected me, I always feared you. Because I didn’t know what you were capable of. I didn’t ever really know until you threatened to take Georgie away from me.”

Georgie stares at Emma, feeling her face heat. It takes her a full few seconds before she can lift her eyes to Sandra’s. Sandra is looking back, pale as a ghost.

It’s not like Georgie didn’t know. Georgie knows all. Before Emma even told her why she agreed to leave tour, Georgie had an inkling. She knows Emma wouldn’t leave tour, leave Shawn for anything but her. Georgie is the trump card.

She stares at her mother, her unfeeling, judgmental wisp of a mother. She sees years of signed permission slips, missed band concerts, nearly forgotten birthdays. She sees a vapid hole of a woman who nearly sucked the life out of the person Georgie holds most dear. She sees nothing in Sandra.

“Emma Jean, don’t do this.”

It’s not a plea, it’s a warning. Sandra Kingston’s never backed down from a fight. She’s not about to start with her 19-year-old headstrong bitch of a daughter.

“Mom,” Emma breathes, leaning forward and taking one of her mother’s frigid, veiny hands in hers, “I have to do this. It’s all that’s left.”

Georgie didn’t know she was about to cry until the tears fell. She sniffles gently, sweeping them away, trying not to make a scene as the culmination of her entire family’s angst hangs over them.

“Do what you’re going to do,” Emma whispers. Georgie blinks in surprise. Emma lets go of Sandra’s hand. Sandra looks bowled over.

“I can’t stop you, I can’t control you. If what you really want is to place a restraining order on me so I can’t see my sister, do it. Or try. I don’t necessarily trust the American justice system, but I think I still trust it more than you. So if that’s what you want, to separate us, to use her as a pawn to make me your dancing monkey, fine. Because guess what? Georgie turns 18 in 17 months and there’s your only power over me, gone.

“Margaret is gone, mom. She signed a girl band in Sweden. She’s happy. Angelique is leading my team now. She is my teammate. She collaborates with me and listens to me and we have a way forward that I’m really, really excited about. I’m more excited about this than any move I’ve ever made in my career. I want you to be excited, too. I know you had a plan. I know you wanted to take charge when I was younger, wanted me to succeed. I can’t do it if you threaten my happiness and my family.

“I want you to be a part of this someday. Not today, probably not any time soon, but someday. I know as well as anyone how savvy you are. I don’t discount that. But you don’t know how to be a teammate, mom. And you don’t know how to be a mom, either. So for now, you’re off my team until you figure those things out.”

Emma glances at Georgie for the first time in minutes. She wraps her hands around Georgie’s and smiles softly.

“Georgie’s going to go home to dad’s. She’s going to go to Belfort Homecoming with Josh Dittrich. She’s going to make lacrosse captain and start visiting colleges. You’re going to stay home, at your home in Beverly Hills, and go to her games and take her shopping for her dress and get her for dinner every Wednesday night and on every other weekend.”

“I’m going to get on a plane.”

Georgie’s eyes lift from their hands to Emma’s face. She looks… serene. Georgie’s never once seen her look serene. She blinks quickly, feeling her fingers unfold from her sister’s. Emma plants a hand on her head.

“C’mon, kid. We have somewhere to be.”

+

Emma watches the lights of the New York City skyline glimmer off Georgie’s shining eyes in the back of the speeding cab. Emma promised him a $100 tip if he could get them to the Barclays Center before 10:30pm. He’s taking his challenge very, very seriously.

Emma and Georgie slide into each other during another scary hairpin turn. They both giggle, a little giddy from adrenaline.

Emma tucks a chunk of hair behind her ear and looks down. She’s in an oversized plaid shirt, Daisy Dukes and checkered Vans. Her hair is muddy with grease and dry shampoo. She’s breaking out a little on her chin. She feels fucking great.

Finally, the cabbie dumps them off outside the artist’s entrance. Emma makes good on her promise and throws in an autograph for his niece with a grin and a wink.

Emma and Georgie hustle up to venue security. Suddenly, Emma vanishes into Emma Kingston. Her face goes cold, eyes go dark and vacant. She strides up like she belongs there.

“Excuse me,” she says in that soft velvety tone of disdain.

Venue security doesn’t look impressed. She lets the corners of her mouth fold down further.

“Name?”

“Emma Kingston.”

“You’re not on the artist roster,” the guard says boredly. Emma cocks her head.

“I’m the tour opener. I was here two hours ago,” she groans, sounding convincingly exhausted. She spots a tour poster and points at her name and face splashed helpfully beneath Shawn’s. She quirks an annoyed eyebrow.

This seems to work, because they’re letting her in. She still has to find a couple crew members to swipe passes from to keep this alive a little longer. She hopes she hasn’t stirred up too much ill will with her formerly bad attitude. She needs this to work. She has to see him.

Georgie’s along for the ride, gawping at the backstage like she’s never seen one before. She waves at passing crew members and roadies. She’s charming enough that they wave back even when they’re rushing or their hands are full.

Emma lunges for Shawn’s favorite tech Joey when she sees him. “Joey! I need a pass.”

He beams. “Emma! Hey! Wow! Yeah, c’mon.”

Georgie’s teeth start to chatter with nerves as they wind their way through the labyrinthian tunnels. As they grow closer to the stage, Shawn’s voice becomes clearer. He’s nearing the end of his set. Emma’s growing fidgety, wants to watch his last few songs and be there when he walks off stage.

Joey very helpfully gets them passes and leads them up through the backstage, doesn’t ask questions when he helps them dodge Andrew, who Emma knows to avoid due to Shawn’s explanation of the “strategy.”

Emma’s nerve endings are buzzing all over her body when Joey leads them to sidestage and she catches sight of Shawn under a spot. He’s pounding hard at his guitar, dripping sweat, thrashing around like a fucking rockstar. Her stomach releases a team of butterflies that don’t stay put – they feel like they’re exploding out of her ears and cheeks. Emma reaches for Georgie’s hand, gripping hard.

She looks over. Georgie is grinning so hard her face might just break. She’s bopping up and down, singing along like she’s at her favorite artist’s concert. Emma smiles, remembering that she is. Georgie looks over and squeezes her hand.

The Kingston sisters scream and dance along to “Particular Taste” under Joey’s watchful eye as he stands guard from Andrew or other interferers.

When the song ends, Emma’s adrenaline-laced heart pumps straight into overdrive. Shawn breaks for water and turns toward them, glancing around casually as he brings the water bottle to his lips.

The bottle almost falls from his hand when he spots her. She’s smiling that perfect, quiet Emma smile, the one that first made him wonder who she was underneath. She’s standing there, a vision in plaid and denim, with bouncing, screaming Georgie nearly vibrating next to her.

Shawn bares a toothy grin and starts to laugh. His band members look up to stare at him like he has three heads. Emma and Georgie giggle along with him until the three of them are nearly doubled over, laughing at nothing.

Finally, Shawn straightens up. The music has long since faded out and the crowd is wondering what the hell is going on. Shawn chews on his lower lip, one hand around the neck of his guitar, one gripping the mic. Emma watches him curiously.

Shawn returns his gaze to the crowd. He can’t see them over the house lights, but he can hear them, can feel them. He smiles softly.

He plucks the first few notes, just to give her a taste, get her blood moving. He doesn’t look at her reaction, just down at his guitar as the crowd cheers for something they don’t recognize.

“Brooklyn,” he crows, a smirk in his voice, “Have I got a surprise for you.”

He backs away from the mic so he can see into sidestage. Emma is laughing again and Georgie is looking between Shawn and Emma so quickly she’s going to give herself whiplash.

Joey, being Joey, takes his cue and hands Emma a tuned up acoustic. It’s not her little yellow guitar, but it’ll do. She smiles gratefully and looks back at the stage as Shawn races around to inform the band that a change is being made.

When all is settled, he nods to Joey and strides back to the mic. As Joey approaches, he lifts off his guitar and hands it to him.

“Thanks, Joey.”

Shawn stands in front of the mic, hands folded behind his back. “This is my last night on this tour,” Shawn begins, sounding a little nostalgic and a lot proud. Emma looks up from fiddling with a guitar pick to watch him.

“This was the best tour ever. I want to thank my incredible band and crew for all their hard work. You guys are everything. I couldn’t do this without you, obviously, but I also wouldn’t want to. Thank you.”

He steps back from the mic and applauds, looking to each member of his band gratefully. The crowd’s roaring dies down as Shawn takes the mic again.

“I also want to thank my tourmate,” he chuckles and Emma knows it’s because “tourmate” doesn’t even begin to cover what they are to each other now, “Emma Kingston.”

The crowd shows waves of recognition, they think they know what’s coming.

They don’t.

Emma turns to Georgie with bated breath. “Want to see something cool?”

Georgie nods. Emma grins. “Stay here. You’re gonna love this.”

Georgie squeals and stands back. When Emma looks back to the stage, Shawn is turned toward her, smiling in anticipation.

Emma grips the guitar for dear life.

She’s never been on a stage as Emma before. She’s been on who knows how many hundreds, maybe thousands of them. Pageant stages, sound stages, arena stages. She has stood at the back or the side putting on her mask, lacing up her persona. She became Emma Kingston for them because that’s what they wanted from her.

She’s never been this Emma before – this Emma in a shirt from Goodwill and ratty sneakers without a stitch of make-up. This is Georgie’s Emma, Shawn’s Emma.

Emma’s Emma.

And now it’s all that’s left.

Emma takes a deep breath and it feels like new life. It feels like a promise. It feels like she’s finally present.

She takes a step, then another. Shawn starts to clap and whistle as she takes the stage, scorched by the bright lights. She’s grateful, then, that all she can see is him.

She walks up to him, watches his smug smile grow. She shakes her head, laughing again, turning to the elated crowd to wave. They shake the damn stadium with their applause. Something new is happening. They can feel it.

Shawn’s gentle touch on her arm brings her back. He leans into her ear.

“You good?”

Emma leans back and looks up at his sparkling chocolate eyes. She nods meaningfully. “I’m ready.”

Shawn grins wildly, curls bobbing as he jogs back to take a seat at the piano.

Emma takes her time adjusting the mic stand, feeling the intensely weighted quiet of the crowd as they wait for her. They think they know who she is, but they haven’t seen this before. They’re curious. Who is she?

Emma looks down at the guitar as she plucks out the first chords slowly. She repeats them a few times, not as much getting her bearings as she is falling into this.

This, what she’s worked every day of her life for since she was five.

This, what she’s dreamed about through years of misdirection, of pampering, of bad attitude, of tight jeans, of broken promises.

This, what she’s built with her own two hands.

Emma lifts her head, tips it back and forth as her eyes slide shut. She starts playing to tempo, hears Shawn’s first notes on the piano come in shortly after.

“Little miss down on love… little miss I give up… little miss I’ll get tough, don’t you worry ‘bout me anymore…”

Her voice is hers. It’s not sweetened, it’s not tuned, it’s Emma Jean. It’s generations of southern heritage, it’s years of Tammy and Patsy under the covers in bed, it’s a little twangy and it’s fucking perfect.

“Little miss checkered dress… little miss one big mess… little miss I’ll take less when I always give so much more…”

Her eyes are shut, pinched tight as she feels every word like they’re getting tattooed on her skin as she sings them.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright, sometimes you gotta lose till you win…”

“It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright, it’ll be alright again.”

Her eyes open. The chorus crashes in. She rocks along with it, crooning into the mic, strumming hard.

“It’ll be alright again, I’m ok, it’ll be alright again…”

As the chorus fades back into the first chords, Emma feels the crowd with her. She has them – an artist knows when she has an audience, it’s like feeling the wind at her back. But this is Barclays Arena so it’s not wind. It’s a goddamn hurricane. And it feels so good.

“Little miss do your best… little miss never rest… little miss be my guest, I’ll make more any time that it runs out.”

Shawn’s impressive at the piano. She grins around her words as he strikes hard at the keys, feeling this as much as she is.

“Little miss you’ll go far… little miss hide your scars… little miss who you are is so much more than you like to talk about…”

With the build-up of the next chorus, Emma stomps her foot along with the piano and drums. The pause before the chorus breaks and Emma slashes at the guitar, going full rockstar like she’s always wanted to but never could. It gets even more of the crowd behind her. She’s a born performer. It’s hard to ignore.

The bridge is simple, but it’s big. It builds like the chorus, but it’s more climactic. Emma feels it rising in her. It shows her true chops as a singer. She holds her note, grinning around it again as the crowd reacts in waves of cheers and applause.

“Hold on… hold on, you are loved, are loved…”

Emma’s voice fades out after an impressive vocal run that has at least half the stadium on their feet. If she looked behind her, she’d see the band exchanging shocked looks of delight -- all but Shawn, who knew for certain she had it in her. He’s smiling that perfect proud smile, eyes glued to her like the first time he saw her perform. He remembers her blue spangly dress, her bare feet, her mismatched voice. There’s nothing mismatched here, now. This is right. This is her.

Emma steps back from the mic for a moment, regaining her breath after her impressive display of vocal prowess. She gasps breath, lifts her hand to her mouth, shaking her head in amazement as the crowd grows even louder in reaction. 

She stares out at them. She wonders about every face, every story behind every life, every song in the hearts of these people who didn’t expect this today but got it anyway. All these people who are making this memory with her. All these people who took a perfect dream and made it real.

She smiles wide. It’s projected stories high onto the screen behind her. The crowd continues to cheer.

She steps back to the mic and the song returns to its quiet beginning. Emma is solo, strumming the guitar, bobbing her head and scuffing her sneakers on the stage floor. She turns to face Shawn, lifts her head and flips hair out of her eyes. He’s sitting proudly at the piano, staring at her. He ducks his head shyly when she catches him. He knows what’s coming.

“Little miss brand new start… little miss do your part… little miss big ol’ heart beats wide open, she’s ready now for love…”

Fuck a strategy. Fuck Kyle Dillon. Fuck Island. Fuck Sandra.

Emma’s looking at Shawn and Shawn’s looking at Emma and it’s obvious to anyone with eyes. And they don’t fucking care.

The chorus builds again, bigger than before. It takes Emma a minute to realize why.

It’s because they’re singing along.

The crowd is chanting with her, “it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright.”

They’re singing her words back to her and it’s so much better than she imagined it would be. Tears catch at the corner of her eyes. When she glimpses Georgie jumping up and down sidestage, crying like a 13-year-old at a Bieber, concert, her tears come loose. Her throat grates, but she sings through it.

Emma sings “I’m ok,” Shawn echoes “it’ll be alright again” and for the first time in her life, Emma believes it.

She doesn’t want to let go when the song draws to a close, the last chord reverberating but barely audible under the mass of screams, of delighted cheers, of chants of her name.

Emma steps backward away from the mic, trying to catch her breath. She drops her pic and claps her hands over her mouth, shaking her head. The cheers grow louder as she gets emotional.

She recovers enough to swing her guitar behind her back and lift her arms to wave. She’s choking back sobs, biting her lips, wishing in the back of her head that Sandra could see this.

Emma looks to Georgie, who’s crying harder than she is. When Georgie realizes she’s spotted, she waves hysterically, cheering and jumping up and down again. Emma laughs, lifting her hand to wave back.

A big, warm hand catches her wrist. She looks up instinctively. He’s there beside her looking at her like she handed him the world.

Slowly, like she’s watching from above, he drops her wrist and steps into her, cupping her neck in his big, rough hands. The crowds roars are deafening as they see what’s about to happen. Emma holds onto his ribcage as Shawn leans in and gives her a searing kiss.

He holds nothing back. He slots their lips together, pulls her up on her toes to deepen it, dropping his hands from her neck to wrap around her waist and lift her slightly. She swings her arms around his neck and holds on desperately, gasping into his mouth, whimpering gently.

With the ground-shaking din of the crowd’s reaction ringing in his ears, Emma’s mind is perfectly blank, clearer than it’s been since she was small. She has one thought in her head. A memory.

She sighs, resigned. She sweeps a hand through his hair, gripping the back of his neck. She leans in and kisses him, soft and sweet. It lasts only a moment. His lips are soft and taste like morning and lemon. She shudders.

He has lost any sense of the world around them. He shrugs an arm around her, uses the other to move some hair out of her tear-streaked face. He leans back in and she shuts her eyes, waiting for another kiss. Instead, he trails his lips over her hair, her cheekbones, her nose, her fluttering eyelashes.

“Emma,” he breathes into her ear. Her body tightens against his in response.

The name doesn’t sound so scary anymore.

Emma smiles into his lips, overwhelmingly grateful.

Her hero’s journey for independence was a long affair, one Shawn arrived for the tail end of. He can’t be attributed much credit for Emma’s departure from her team, from Margaret and Sandra. He was a background figure in all of those scenes.

But Shawn did something just important, just as crucial to getting Emma to this point. He taught her how to be loved.

When Shawn releases her, they smile big and toothy in unison and start to laugh again like they did before, too filled with love and hope and plain, stupid youth that it comes out like explosive carbonation.

Shawn tucks hair behind her ear and kisses her forehead. The girlish shrieks are deafening. They make Emma chuckle again.

“Wait for me?” Shawn whispers in her ear.

Emma nods. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Taglist: @the-claire-bitch-project @smallerinfinities @crapri @stillinskislydia@carlaimberlain @abigfatmess @rosecolouredtimes @heavenly—holland @wanderingmendes @blush-and-books @oyesmendes @embracehappy @toumendes @nosafetynetunderneath @kitykatnumber @parkerspicedlatte

[anna-catherine-bruno]

Mental Illness & Following Jesus

It was one of my goals in 2019 to be more open. It was also one of my goals to get back to making these blog posts. So in light of Bell Let’s Talk, I’ve decided to do just those two things.

I’m not sure exactly where to start, but I know I cannot be the only Christian who is confused and tired by the way many believers approach mental health. I tend to get two overarching reactions when talking about mental health (as I do quite often as a psych undergrad student); one response entails speculation of dark powers driving the mental health issues in the people who have them, which usually comes with comments about praying for their problems, or demons, to go away. The other reactions tend to be ones of disbelief that it's really an illness, getting comments like “they just need to shake it off.” And even though as a Christian I do believe in an enemy at work, and I do believe in the power of prayer, I've come to realize that mental health, just like physical health, is not necessarily something we all will live without. I’m also very aware, and pleased to know, that people, Christian or not, are becoming more informed of what’s the deal behind mental health, and doing what they can to break the stigma. And to that, I say thank you! But this blog is being posted for those still on the fence. This isn’t a post to start a theological debate about mental health or argue whether a Christian should be healthy and prosperous all the time if they just have enough faith. This is to share my journey with mental health, as a Christian, and to share how good God is in all my messiness.

So to start, let me tell you about my imperfect self. A part of me who I just opened up about to my fiancé, my family, and some of my friends in the last two years, because before that it was regularly suggested to me to “just be thankful”, “pray for God to take it away” and not to share my struggles when sharing my story, because people will think I’m “looking for attention”.

P.S.: I still have a loud voice inside me telling me people will think I’m looking for attention, but I have a louder voice telling me I can’t hold back what God has done for me in my life.

My mental struggles, as far as I can remember, started when I was about 11. I dealt with the (sadly) common struggles most 11-year-olds deal with. Body issues. My body was beginning to change out of my lanky child figure, and I have pretty heartbreaking memories of being a young girl, not yet in high school, pinching my fat and bawling my eyes out alone in my basement on a weekly basis. Fast forward to age 15, being in high school, starting to take an interest in pimpled ridden, voice cracked, hormone surged 15-year-old boys. Something in me switched at that age. I went from being sad about my chub to obsessing over taking control over it. Hence, the bulimia started. Purging was something I planned to do only temporarily until the weight came off. The sad part of an eating disorder is the weight really isn’t the problem. At 16 I weighed 125 pounds at 5 foot 6 and was obsessed with losing more weight. The goal was always 99 pounds, and I only got to 117. So, year 16 and 17 of my life was P90X and purging on a daily basis.

We’ll come back to the eating disorder later because at 17 another wave hit me. Anxiety. It’s funny because all my life I would say “wow I’m feeling so anxious right now” or “that gives me so much anxiety” lightly until the anxiety actually came. It started in grade 11, I lost a lot of my high school friends (a lot of whom I’ve reconnected with and love more than ever today, thank God). I would cry almost every night thinking about my next day at school and the feelings of loneliness. I would often find myself in the girls' washroom hyperventilating. The anxiety carried into every aspect of my life, often manifesting into full-blown panic attacks; curled up in a ball, on the ground, seemingly out of nowhere, unable to catch my breath, sometimes for up to 15 minutes. After a pretty rough breakup, things got exponentially worse. For about 6 months I was getting about 2-3 hours of sleep a day, a great side effect of anxiety called insomnia, and I felt like I was drowning in fears, hopelessness and thoughts of suicide.

It was when I was 17 I first started seeing a psychologist. Fast forward another two years, and I’m doing better. I’ve learned how to manage the panic attacks, I dealt with the anxiety, and I was sleeping much better. What I didn’t know at nineteen, and which I know now, is I was still dealing with what I’ve been dealing with from the beginning. Depression. It’s kind of weird, but as I write that word, I have a smile on my face. We’ll get to why in a second.

At 19, as many of you know, and the reason this blog even exists, I went to L.A. to serve with Youth with a Mission Los Angeles. While I was there I shared my testimony countless times, often talking about anxiety, but avoiding depression and especially avoiding my past with an eating disorder, mostly because I became very close with girls who had eating disorders, and I got it into my mind that because I wasn’t institutionalized for it, it wasn’t really a problem and I shouldn’t bring it up. It was in Barcelona that year that I gave my life to Christ (yes, I was raised in the church. No, I didn’t know Jesus until I was 20). I came back for the summer, started dating my now fiancé, and went back for another few months where I grew so much more in my faith. It was some of the best times of my life.

I really believed everything that was ever wrong with me, everything messy in my life, was behind me. After growing so much in that year, surrounded by amazing people who were growing beside me, I felt free. The kicker is that I came home, started studying psychology (typical, a girl with mental issues goes on to study mental issues, isn’t that most of our stories?), and my “messy past” caught up to me eventually.

This past year I really faced my mental health, afraid, but head first. I realized a few things. One was that I have control issues. Many people who know and love me know that I get really, unwarrantedly upset if I get a grade below A. Sometimes they laugh until they see or hear how much I obsessed and beat myself up for not getting a perfect score. I work really hard to get the grades I do, and it’s looking like I’m going to graduate with somewhere between a 3.9-4.0 GPA, but I also have had a 2-year struggle of hating myself and ripping myself apart for not being absolutely perfect in everything I do. This mentality led to me trying to gain control and be “perfect” in other areas of my life. Yes, you guessed it, the purging began. At the beginning of 2018, I found myself back into my high school habits, and thank God I have a fiancé who was always there to listen and help me through it this time around. The depression also continued and still continues, although it comes more in waves nowadays and not a constant tug.

So, where am I going with this? I really hope you’ve read until this far because all this background story is just noise compared to the real point I’m trying to make. This year, despite my battle with mental illness, has been one of the best years of my life, and I can tell you why in five words: Christ is enough for me. Yes, you might have heard the song, but those words have never rung truer in my life. Maybe you’ve walked into a church that told you if you pray enough and if you believe enough, all your problems, physical, mental, financial, will go away. I know for a fact that isn’t true. We live in a really, really messed up, fallen world. We’re riddled with diseases, heartbreak, selfishness, pride, and battles we have to face every day. But one thing I know to be absolutely true is in the face of it all, Christ is enough. This year, learning to lean into the grace of God more and more each day, I discovered the awesome truth that I’m never going to be perfect, and it’s in my imperfections, my depression, my anxiety, that God gets to be glorified. I get to wake up knowing that there is a perfect God who has a plan for me. In the midst of my depression, I don’t feel hopeless anymore, because I know God will use me to reach and empathize with others struggling on a whole other level. When I’m feeling most anxious, my nervous system on fire, not able to sleep because I’m thinking of life and marriage and grad school, I’m also feeling the most peace I’ve ever felt, knowing that God is so much bigger than the battle in front of me. I realized this year, something I spoke about to so many women while in L.A., Mexico, Switzerland and Spain, that the goal was never to be perfect, the goal was never to be illness free. If it happens that I don’t have to deal with depression or anxiety one day, amen! But until then, the healing, peaceful, protective, full power of Christ is enough to carry me through. It’s in my weakness that God can shine, can be given the glory for why I wake up every day with a purpose, a light, and with hope. What I’m trying to say is summarized pretty well in the word of God, as it always is:

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. - 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I’m really not that great without Christ. I’m broken, I’m selfish, I fear, I fret, I want complete control. It’s only through knowing, seeking, loving and following Christ that I can live free, in my flawed body and spirit, I can trust in God’s promise that his power will be made perfect in my weakness and I can rest easy knowing God has such an incredible plan for my life.

It’s been on my heart to share this part of me for 3 years now, and I hope someone out there reading this is affected by my words. Maybe you’re dealing with mental illness, and you’ve been scared to open up about it to your family, friends or church. To you, I say that God’s perfection can’t be made whole if we’re too scared to show our weakness. A fundamental element of believing in Jesus is admitting we’re broken, and still believing He is so so good. If you’re someone who doesn’t deal with mental illness (first of all, thank you, Jesus, for that, cause that’s awesome and becoming more and more rare), maybe my words broke down a bit of the stigma around this topic. I hope you exit this page rethinking the way you see things like depression and anxiety. I’m not trying to make a point that we shouldn’t pray for healing in these areas, because I believe God can give us healing, but just as there are people who are bound to wheelchairs, who will never walk again, and who still praise and give glory to God, I believe we should open up about what binds our minds, even if we can never “shake it off” and still praise and give glory to God. We should be looking forward to the day we are united with Him, in our new bodies and mind, but until then allowing ourselves to be made perfect through His perfection, and not through striving for our own.

As a last note, because I know some will worry, through opening up to my family and diving deep with God into the body image issues behind it, I have been able to fight a good fight against my eating disorder, and I’ve been doing much better the last 8 months. My anxiety comes and goes, but that’s something I’ve been able to manage the best, thanks to lots of prayers, some cardio and good old deep breathing techniques! And the depression comes and goes in waves, but I’m no longer hopeless, which is a huge step forward.

I wish everyone reading this the absolute best, and know that I’m always here to talk (as a friend, as someone who’s been there, and as someone who happens to be studying this stuff and knows quite a bit on mental health, not just Jesus, haha). And I'm always open to talk about Christ if this is your first time reading about Jesus in this way. I'm an open book.

Thanks for listening, Anna.

Links

List of listening services in Quebec & Canada

List of suicide prevention lines worldwide

Online, anonymous emotional support

The only thing that really keeps me going

[noxrynne]

I don't really know what it is tbh

Like, the last group of friends I had was back in middle school who I felt close to was probably the last close friends I ever had.

High School I felt too awkward and uncomfortable and scared to get to know anyone. No one really felt safe enough for me to open up to about things, or that I felt like I didn't have enough in common with people. It kinda sucks when everyone around you constantly talks about and has much more vested interest in things that I didn't find really interesting, and the reverse was true: they didn't find what I was interested in all that interesting.

After high school... yeah, I know a lot of people. But that's really it, tbh. I don't feel very close to anyone. I actually feel incredibly artificial to myself and others, I don't really... like, to be honest? I don't know who I really am socially. Any time I meet new people I'm so scared of saying something stupid, saying something wrong, making a bad comment, that it'd start a chain reaction and I'd be ostracized or something. Or mocked, or made fun of. And I get like, between friends teasing is a thing, just sometimes it feels a bit lopsided in about... every case I ever had. Yeah, I forget the names of things so I try and garble up something that might mean *something* yeah I pronounce some stuff wrong here and there, yeah I make mistakes doing things for fun (like, video games). But every time I never really... I mean, it hurts to be teased a lot without really much to counterbalance it. I don't know though, maybe I am an idiot? Maybe my presence is really only tolerated and not really enjoyed? I don't know, but it feels like that a lot. Especially when people all compliment each other, and you kinda hoped to feel included, but instead you mispronounce a name or a word you couldn't quite remember and next thing you know you're kinda being laughed at for it. Again.

And... yeah, I tailor make how I behave pending who I'm around. I know I behave differently with different people, and not just in a "watch what I say" type of way. I'm like... a completely different person in a lot of contexts, I do have a moral and ethical compass I follow and all, but at the end of the day I don't... ever think I've really been a genuine self to anyone. I dunno, maybe it's something I do because I'm scared of rejection. Maybe it's something I do because I don't want to be made fun of all the time and be taken non-seriously all the time. Maybe I miss feeling like I could be good at something, useful even. Frankly, I didn't even realize this was a *thing* some people do until I kinda learned the concept in sociology and realized it's kinda exactly what I do. I mean, it makes me get along with a lot of people? But the cost is kinda... well, they just know a more fraudulent version of myself.

I keep thinking about it lately, how alone I kinda really am. A lot of it is my own fault, I'm... a pretty shitty friend, really. I don't really start conversations because I just feel like no one really wants to hear it, and outside of what I'm currently just... fixated on, I don't really come up with anything to talk about on my own. Even... I mean, and god I kinda hope he doesn't read this because it's going to come out choppy and poorly worded, but... I don't even really feel close to my boyfriend. Not as close as when we were friends. Yeah, we RP practically every night but in a lot of cases I... don't want to anymore. I'd rather just talk, but I don't know what about. I'd rather watch a movie, a show, or just... hang out as... y'know, people. But I feel guilty if I don't RP, and I feel *really* guilty if I don't talk to him even if I'm in a really "I need to be *alone*" mood. Like, kinda regretting, staying up late because I can't sleep type of guilty.

Online I try to make friends, but... I just feel so far removed from everyone. I don't really have interests in common with most of them, and fuck, I'm not doing anything interesting with my life and just about all of them are lmao. If anything I'm just perpetually frustrated at life because I'm fucking terrible at handling pressure properly and (while I get everything in on time, for the most part) I procrastinate so much and the pressure becomes higher until I just start feeling this empty detachment of giving a shit anymore. And I don't like that. I don't really know how to fix it, though, and yeah, that's about school. It feels immature, irresponsible, childish, stupid, but for the life of me I just sit there and stare at my document, my prompt, my papers and just want to cry. I can't think of the next line, the next word, let alone the rest of the thing. I get frustrated, I get upset, I try to do something to drown out that feeling but it doesn't help and I just feel like I'm being irresponsible and I shouldn't be doing anything time consuming/fun for me until I finish my priority.

On top of that, my life experience? It's basically 0. Yeah, I'm fucking stupid. Yeah, I struggle with banks. I struggle with finances. I struggle understanding legal documents. I struggle understanding how to do shit. I struggled, a LOT, with taxes when I had to do them. I struggle driving. I struggle even getting up in the morning. I struggle fulfilling plans. I struggle keeping in contact with people. I struggle opening up, going out, cooking, cleaning properly, my makeup application sucks, remembering my responsibilities, feeling confident and happy and secure in myself. All of my value I derive from myself? Literally just "do I feel like I"m good at this task? Y/N" and that became "Do I feel like I'm good at this game? No? Well then what am I even worth if I can't even have fun correctly?"

I'm fucking 23. I still feel like an overgrown child. I don't like owning up to it because so many people around me are so far ahead. Just about everyone I know currently is independent and on their own, and I'm... still struggling through first year of school. For the sixth time. I'm still struggling with even the idea of living alone, I mean I will be doing that soon? But that's just me staying in the house while my mother works elsewhere. Last time when I went to a dorm? Went to a hotel on my own? I had an entire fucking breakdown. I still feel like shit over that. One time I sobbed, I cried, I couldn't sleep, I felt terrified and scared and alone and hated it. Other time? I just felt overwhelmed, to the point where I just detached. I didn't sleep for a long time, I made a lot of mistakes, I didn't eat, I didn't drink much if anything.

But it's just... I don't know. I kinda feel like shit around most people since they're all having lives, they're all having a lot more fun together and are a lot closer together, and I'm there trying to become friends and failing kinda miserably at it. And it's not just like, one isolated incident, it's all the time. I've kinda always been that more "outlier" person in a friend group that is kinda there but doesn't really feel too close to anyone and isn't really... that close to anyone. And is kinda bagged on a lot.

And I'm frustrated, and upset. Because I literally... I literally don't know how to just... go out and make friends? Even in class there's like, people who talk to me or try to and I"m just... not great at it. I get nervous/anxious so I start blanking and struggling to think of stuff to say, or even just how to respond, I get tense and even... sometimes I can't even vocalize something in a face-to-face environment.

I feel like a massive fucking loser for typing this. For even having this as a problem when so many people around me seem to be able to do this all so easily. And I just kinda... I dunno, feel like crying I guess.

I just wanted a place to ramble about it, so sorry if you had to read it or something.

[purposefullypassionate-blog]

A Brief History of Being Enough

I ruin things. I routinely compare myself to a natural disaster because there is nothing I connect more with than a hurricane. I am the destructive force and the body being destroyed at the same time. If that’s not confusing enough, try being this overwhelming force while also hearing whispers in your ear of “You’re not enough.” How can I be so much and not enough at the same time? One fun word that packs this into one nice little check box is: anxiety

This sounds like a simple word that might appear when you’re nervous for a test or have to publicly speak when you’re not used to it. But for me, this word means an entire universe is compacted into every inch of my body. People throw away this word, because they “feel so anxious omg,” and while there is some validity to having anxiety without a chemical imbalance, I don’t think they understand what it’s like to have every atom belonging to you exploding simultaneously. This happens every time I feel any sort of emotion. It’s an undefinable experience, except to say there are stars super-nova-ing inside me. I become consumed by my heart, and I physically feel it come in waves, like a sea is eager to escape me. Some days, I can’t even get out of bed. It has placed itself under my skin, in my chest, whispering my worst fears, making it hard to breathe. 

Breathing is the equivalent of swimming. I know if I stop treading, I’ll start to sink, but my body becomes so overwhelmed by the water it’s surrounded in that I forget to tread and eventually slip into a numb, unconscious state of drowning. Isn’t that stupid? I have to periodically remind myself to perform an involuntary bodily function. (It’s also incredibly ironic because I believe I am a hurricane, and how can a hurricane drown?) There are times when I realize I haven’t been breathing at all. I’ve just been standing there holding my breath because the thought of existing makes me want to stay under the covers while the morning sun creeps through the slits of my shades, reminding me I need to brush off the dust of sleep. I become so careful and apologetic in every aspect, including physical, due to the fear of becoming the hurricane to another person. While I want to be enough, I don’t want to be too much. It’s exhausting, and at the end of the day I use what little energy I have to collapse into a ball on my bed because I am out of breath. 

This can only happen after I eat, of course, because usually I eat like a bird the entire day because of the nausea. Crackers and La Croix are two of my best friends. I have one pack of saltines I keep in my desk, and there’s always a mango La Croix in the fridge right next to me; I don’t notice it until I get home and sit at my desk and realize I’m starving, but can’t eat anything because I feel like it will only want to escape my body. It’s that fun word back in my life: anxiety. It makes me sick to my stomach. My mom, AKA my anchor, noticed this the week I had to spend about 3 hours a day in the guidance counselor’s office because of issues with a high school stalker. I wouldn’t eat dinner, and my usual after-school-craving for Nutella had vanished. She knew something was wrong, and immediately connected this phenomenon to my disorder. It preys on my empty thoughts, a little voice that for some reason sounds like Bill Murray, continuously reminding “You can’t even eat? Or normally breathe? What’s wrong with you?” (No offense to Bill Murray, of course, I’m a huge Groundhog Day fan.) 

So, if I can’t complete these most basic human instincts, am I enough? That’s not all I think about, though, when being enough crosses my mind. I think of how no boy I’ve loved has stayed in my life longer than three months. If I can’t be enough for the people in my life, am I worth anything at all? This concept of being enough consumes my every waking moment. There have been the very rare occasions, nights where too many of my closest friends cram into a jeep with no roof, and I stand on the seat doing a poor imitation of Leonardo DiCaprio’s classic pose, and everyone’s laughing too hard, that I forget for a moment that I don’t believe I’m enough. In that moment, I am enough for the laughter I’ve created, I am enough for the music I keep messing up the lyrics to, I am enough for the moon that you can see when it peeks out between the trees. We get out of the car and don’t want to part. And when I feel like I’m the only person existing when I get back to my room after a long day of not breathing, I remember my other anxiety-ridden friend hugging me saying that night was the “perfect goodbye” for me before I left for college.  Little did I know that a week later from that night, I would begin to realize more about my anxiety because of a boy.

I hate when things happen because of boys. Not that there’s anything wrong with boys, but I want to know myself because of something internal. I thought I knew everything there was to know about my anxiety, sure it was confusing, but I know myself well. Alas, I arrived at college and met my plot twist. He’s a foot taller than me, grows Bonsai trees, and has severe ADHD. I understand how it feels to have a disorder, but I had never been in love with someone who has one. Unfortunately, his made him interrupt me, forget to kiss me goodbye, say the exact wrong things, and struggle to communicate. All the things that make my anxiety unfold from the ball I tightly pack it in and expand like a gas to fill its container. I had to repeatedly remind myself that it was not him, it was not me, it was the chemical imbalance he tries to exhaustingly keep together. It’s like the universe made both of us and said “Everything will go against their togetherness.” And we said screw it. But that fight against the universe hit me in the face and fought me saying “no, it’s not anything other than you just not being enough.” The mountain of not being enough has always been my steepest climb, so he climbed it for me. At midnight on a Friday that was hotter than it should have been in September, he ended things between us. It was not because I was not enough for him, it was not because the love he had for me disappeared, and it was not because I had done something wrong, and I have always wondered what I’ve done wrong. It was simply because he was not ready to take on anything like the relationship we wanted. It sounds like the most basic, bullshit answer a college boy can give you, but I believe him. He was stressed, overwhelmed, and simply not ready, and he did what was best for himself. Sometimes, timing doesn’t work, or relationships don’t mix with a person even if the people in it do. That is ok. Maybe it was because of my anxiety that makes me terribly empathetic, or the hours of research I did on ADHD to try to know him better, but I understood. And even though we stood there holding on to each other while I cried for what seemed like years, because neither of us wanted to let go for the last time, we eventually did. I shut the door after he reminded me I was more than enough for him. 

I’ve only ever completely felt enough for myself once. I was driving into Colorado at three in the morning, five days after my grandpa had been accepted into heaven, because of course he was. He was my best friend so that practically makes him a saint. My nose was pressed up against the glass because there were more stars in the sky than I realized were up there, and in that moment, I was enough for the stars. They serve as a reminder to the ones exploding inside me. I try and go back to that brief glimpse of infinity every single time I feel the not enough-ness in my heart. I adventure back in my mind to that mountain I was on when I saw my stars for the first time. I felt lost, without a compass or map, but then it turned, as all things do, to wandering. I hiked back paths of my heart, long-forgotten, traveled-across plains. Through forests taller than I remembered, and under a painted, desert sky I missed the beauty of. Over mountains I never realized I climbed, to find what I lost, or why I am lost at all. I have an addiction of traveling although there is no moving involved, since it’s only the emotional and physical journeys I’ve already experienced. This is one addiction I would never medicate, though.

Medication is a scary word to use. I am not medicated, and I get a puzzled look of “why?” every time I say this. I am terrified. I believe I am a coward, I am so frightened to my core of becoming reliant upon something that is not me. I am an actress, and I empathize well with people and have no problem accessing any emotion when I need to perform it. I am terrified of losing these parts of me that I actually like. If I medicate myself, I change my brain. My brain is the part of me that understands that although there are more stars in the sky than we’ll ever know, the night sky isn’t as bright as the sun because our line of sight doesn’t end on stars. This is because there was a point in time when those stars didn’t shine, even though we do live in an infinitely expanding, static universe. While I don’t necessarily need to know this information, it forces an understanding of myself. I know there are times when the stars under my skin aren’t imploding, times when I don’t feel too much, and I can take a deep breath and focus on clearer night skies. This allows me moments where my anxiety doesn’t consume me, just like the stars don’t consume the night sky. We both have a balancing act, which makes it easier to be friends with the stars. I don’t want some outside force changing this composition of my brain, which I actually can fall in love with at moments I know it is enough. 

Now, I am learning how to be enough for myself. That’s step one. I write out all my feelings, remind myself to wash off the day, and focus on every inch of me that is exactly enough, even if Bill Murray is telling me I’m wrong. It’s not easy, and it always circles back to that need to be enough. For boys, for my family, for the people I love, but especially for myself. I want so badly to just breathe without a reminder, and not tell myself that my body, my voice, my love, is simply not enough for anyone. If I were enough, I wouldn’t have had to worry about the days my person was having a rough time communicating. I wouldn’t have to worry about the secret phobia I have of the people I love and who love me waking up and saying “Never mind.” I wouldn’t have to worry during every unfilled moment to show that I can be more. Or less if that’s what you want. But for now, I do worry, and I am afraid. The undertow of anxiety pulls me back out to the ocean of not being enough, and that’s when the hurricane hits, or I become one. Sometimes, in the eye of my hurricane, I catch glimpses of my stars above me, and they whisper to me that there is a world without any hurricanes. So eventually, and I truly believe this, I will be enough. Maybe it won’t be tonight, or even a year from now, but someday I will be satisfied with the acceptance that every imperfect, frizzy curl, every frayed thought, every small moment I forget to breathe is all perfectly ok, because it is just me. I will be enough for me. I will stop seeking imperfection, and see the beauty of being imperfectly enough.

[alwaysaliighthouse]

A Bit of a Writing Dump

A little dump of the last couple of month’s of writing down my thoughts:

1/30/20 You are Sirius; Filling my bleak, dark skies with the light of a thousand suns.

You are Venus; Rising with the horizon, bursting with a new dawn.

You are Castor; Welcoming Geminids to brush past my Earth, offering me handfulls of wishes.

You are Polaris; Keeping me safe in rough waters, guiding me home to your arms.

You are Andromeda; A galaxy of stars, untouchably beautiful. ------------------------------------------------------------------- 2/1/20 - An ode to Bub You are rays of sunshine seeping through my blinds, Comfy, like early morning stretches, And sleepy yawns.

Raindrops on books, Quiet afternoons inside, Hiding away from the world.

The simplicity of life, Even in a bustling city, All wrapped up in a tiny bow.

You keep the calm, in the calamity, When the world is coming down.

You're the best decision, I've ever made; On a whim I decided to take you home, And love you.

And love you I do. ------------------------------------------------------------------- 4/6 There was a time I was so broken I could barely eat You watched as I crumbled, a human to ashes Atlas shrugged crushed by the weight of all his burdens. I crumbled slowly, and then faster as time went on When the calamity eased, I lost you amidst all my rubble.

Three months it took to allow myself to mourn the loss Five months it took to begin to rebuild my tragic empire Seven months it took to forget the way your honey brown eyes looked at me Nine months it took to embrace a life without you.

One day it took for you to dust my ashes off yourself And show up on my doorstep unannounced I embraced you like I never set you on fire to begin with Only to spark a new flame. ------------------------------------------------------------------- 7/29 There will always be days That you crash down on me like thunder. Days where I forget the rainbows after the rain, And instead drown in the overcast. I know that I'll be afraid that it will never end, The storm will turn to a hurricane; the hurricane a monsoon. Sometimes I feel like a child caught in the storm, Helpless and heavy with sadness.

------------------------------------------------------------------- 8/24 My brain wracks itself for memories that don't involve you. It seems as though lately I'm in a subconscious state of nostalgia. I wake from what I believe to be a restful sleep, only to be hit with vivd recollections of my dreams. The way your cologne smelled when I nestled my nose into the crook of your neck, Matt. The way you smiled at me the first time we met, Dylan. The gorgeous way your soft hands felt in mine, Jae. I have so many tears built up for my past loves. I rarely let them see the light of day; but sometimes, on days like these, where I dream so vividly, I can't seem stop the flood of the overcast. ------------------------------------------------------------------- 9/13/20 Today is September 13, 2020, and I'm single for the first time in my adult life. I have no idea where to go from here or what to think. There's part of me that feels liberated, and a second part that feels completely petrified.

Physically, it feels like a huge weight on my shoulders and heart. Mentally it's exhilarating - even if I feel like crying and I'm afraid of being alone.

What does one do with themselves when they just get to.... be? I've looked on forums desperately trying to figure out what I do with myself now. Most just tell you to "work on yourself," or "do all the things you've always wanted." I think I've been part of someone else for so long, I don't know what I want.

I'll probably spend the majority of my time working and busting my ass to get a higher promotion. I also want to start writing again. I miss it, and it's something I've always loved doing. Aside from that, I feel lost. Being in the middle of a pandemic, there's not much you can do aside from being alone.

My brain keeps telling me to be with a woman. While it's not a bad idea, I can't help but only go for men. Maybe that's because I don't know any LGBTQ+ women.

I'm still in love with Dylan. That's a fact, and it's something I'm going to struggle with for a long time. I've never loved anyone as much as I love him. Even two years later he gives me butterflies. We plan to sleep together when we feel the need to, with no strings attached. I think having this to hold on to might help me through this time.

Collapse I'm petrified, I'm nervous, I'm so incredibly sad.

But I'm free.

This is the first day of my life.

------------------------------------------------------------------- 10/23/20 Water fills my mouth and I can breathe again. You have palm trees in your hair, and the carribean in your eyes. You taste like adventure You feel like a sunrise.

Your voice - like a siren song to my ears. I embrace your melody, allow it to wash over me. You're the moon and I am the tide; You sway me. ------------------------------------------------------------------- 11/22 I told you I want a sparkly love story, You told me that we could be sparkly. ------------------------------------------------------------------- 11/29 These days I'm too jaded to believe in love, I've lost myself so many times in others, That I've forgotten where I come from.

I'm a phoenix - Rising from the ashes of my heart, Again and again as I'm broken.

I'm the King of a desolate wasteland, With a rusted crown, And a throne that can't carry all the weight of his burdens.

And I'm a vagabond, Wandering into the broken hearts of others, Simply to repair them and take my leave.

I'm sorry that I don't love you, I don't think I'm capable any more. ------------------------------------------------------------------- 12/19/20 Maybe there is hope For a sad soul like mine. Wading through waters, Dancing on my tiptoes, Miles from the shoreline. ------------------------------------------------------------------- 2/3/21 I'm anxious and sad. I don't want to talk about it, or let others know what they may be able to do to make me feel better because it just makes me feel needy and hopeless. So I just do it on my own. And then I just feel lonely. ------------------------------------------------------------------- 2/5/21 I could have been an astronomer, Wading through the atmosphere of Jupiter. ------------------------------------------------------------------- 2/10/21 Yesterday I knew I loved you. For the first time I had the epiphany that my heart could burst from all the love I have for you; Curled up in the back of your Jeep in the garage, drifting off to sleep with your arms curled around my head and my face in the palm of your hand. I thought I wasn't capable any more - I felt so jaded. You've sparked so much happiness in me. I'm capable. ------------------------------------------------------------------- 2/21/21 There have been a handful of moments where I felt the undenying "I love you" feeling. Like when you leaned on me while we were rafted up with Glen and Kat on Saturday. When we were sailing out and you started singing the Game of Thrones theme song, I found myself almost saying it without thinking. You're so good for me. On the water is where it began, On a cloudy day, Trying to mend something that was broken.

[sad-goomy]

a little less sixteen candles

Pokemon Sun+Moon Pairing: Lonashipping (GladionxMoon) Warnings: None A/N: Hi welcome to my first post, it’s based on a Fall Out Boy song because that’s who I am as a person.

Gladion fidgets with the wrapped box in his hand, swallowing the lump in his throat as he stops in front of her house. He checks his watch; the verdict isn't in his favor. Every survival instinct within him is telling him to turn right around and call Charizard once more. It's incredibly likely that she's fast asleep, probably dreaming up different ways to murder him.

He takes a deep breath and knocks, accepting his death sentence.

She opens the door and his apologies are caught in his throat. Not only is she far from asleep, but she still has her hair pinned up and her powder blue dress on. It makes him painfully conscious that he's under-dressed in ripped up jeans. She crosses her arms, leaning against the doorway as she sizes him up. Gladion has always teased her about her small stature with Hau, but now she's making him feel about three feet tall.

"You're late," she states blandly.

"I…" He grips the present in his hands tighter and fights the urge to bolt and never look back. "I lost track of time?"

"It's two in the morning."

"…sorry."

Moon sighs, closing her gray eyes. When she opens them once more, he realizes that instead of the anger he's expected, he finds them drowning in disappointment, and that's so much worse than he could have imagined. His gut twists as he opens his mouth to say something else, before closing it; there's really nothing he could say that could make up for being six hours late to her sixteenth birthday.

She watches him and asks with a drop of her shoulders, "Do you want to come in?"

"Can I?"

Normally she might roll her eyes and laugh at his hesitance, but now she simply shrugs, turning to go back inside but keeping the door open for him. He has another chance to run, maybe throw himself in the ocean so he never has to face her again, but instead he steps into the dark house, following her to the kitchen. The remains of a birthday party litter the living room, and the kitchen holds leftover cake and dirty dishes. She puts on the kettle to boil, getting two mugs from the cabinet before turning to him and asking, "You want cake?"

He looks at the cake on the kitchen island, nearly demolished but still with copious amounts of frosting decorating the edges and a pile of candles beside it. "No thank you." Truthfully, he couldn't eat even if he wanted to with the way his stomach keeps twisting itself into knots.

Moon nods, taking the kettle off the stove once it starts whistling, disturbing the Meowth that sleeps in the corner. She makes two mugs of tea and holds one out to him as she leans back on the counter. "Drink up and start talking."

Gladion looks down at the present in his hands and fumbles a bit in putting it on the counter and crossing the kitchen to accept the mug. She hops up onto the counter behind her and blows on the tea to try and cool it; he lets his mug burn his palms a bit, leaning against the kitchen island, glad he doesn't have to face the half-eaten cake, but more nervous about facing the dark-haired girl in front of him.

She starts by giving him the benefit of the doubt. "Were you not feeling well?"

He hesitates, but shakes his head; he can't lie to her after everything he's done. Sure, part of the reason he didn't come was because he was anxious, but he tells her, "It was…something else."

"I see," she hums simply, taking a sip of tea and turning her gaze to the kitchen sink. He looks down at his own mug, watching the steam coil through the air. "Lillie said she couldn't find you when she was leaving, so she came without you." Moon takes another sip of tea, turning her eyes on him. Gladion drums his fingers along the mug to give his hands something to do besides sweat under her gaze. She crosses her legs, ruffling the skirt of her dress that lays gently above her knees. "Do you secretly hate me?" she asks, adding in a sarcastic drawl, "Have you been waiting for the moment to prove we aren't friends and saw your chance?"

"That's ridiculous."

"What's ridiculous is showing up at a girl's house with a present at two in the morning and not expecting her to be pissed."

"To be fair, I completely expected that," he counters, though it falls flat as he takes a sip of tea. He grips the handle of the mug so tightly that his knuckles become paper white. "I wanted to come," he adds, but immediately cringes when she narrows her eyes at him. This is going well, he thinks to himself with an internal groan.

Moon sets her mug down, crossing her arms as she tells him, "I know. That's what you said when I first told you about the party two weeks ago. And then when I double-checked if you still wanted to come the other day, you said absolutely."

"Because I did want to, it's just –" He cuts himself off and deflates, setting down his own mug as well and trying to calm his bad hand as it begins to shake. He's scared and annoyed and angry and he hates that he has such an easy tell. Realizing he can't bring himself to say what he really wants, he settles lamely on, "I don't do parties."

"Good to know," she mutters, deciding to start taking the pins out of her hair to avoid choking the boy in front of her.

Wrong answer, he chides himself, and watches her hair come tumbling down in messy waves. He looks over at the present on the counter, and then over at the clock on the microwave to realize that it's nearing 3 in the morning and he has nothing left to lose. Moon shakes out the last of her hair before running a hand through it to try and calm the mess. She looks at him with a sigh of defeat, admitting, "I know you, Gladion. I figured you didn't want to come, but –"

He waits for her to go on, but she bites her bottom lip and shakes the thought out of her head. As she takes a sip of tea and avoids his eyes, he raises a brow, prodding, "But?"

"Nothing," she snaps, setting down her mug and realizing that if she's going to avoid his intense stare she needs something to do. Moon settles on cleaning up the living room, hopping off the counter and brushing past the blond boy to start gathering up paper plates from the coffee table. "It's stupid. Idiotic. Asinine." Despite himself, Gladion smirks, a chuckle escaping his lips as he watches her clearing the coffee table. She scowls, looking up at him with her left hand on her hip, her right holding a stack of used paper plates and plastic utensils. "What are you laughing about?"

"Sorry," he says, finishing his last sip of tea to hide the smile that keeps threatening to tug the corners of his lips upwards. "It's just nice to know I'm not the only one who's nervous."

Moon bites her cheek, going back to the kitchen and disposing the trash in her hands as she mutters, "I'm not nervous."

"You turn into a thesaurus whenever you get flustered."

She spins on her heel, arms crossed. He feels his hands fidgeting from her gaze once more, and regrets not having an excuse to hold a mug; he decides to shove his hands in the pockets of his jacket. She bites her cheek, and he realizes that she's blushing from some unspoken thought, but before he can dig deeper her eyes land on the present on the counter. "What is it?"

"Not my head on a platter, which I'm sure is the greatest gift I could get you at this point."

Despite her nerves, Moon smiles, letting a chuckle escape, fueling Gladion's own lopsided smile. She walks over to the present, lifting and examining it as she mumbles, "Nice wrapping paper. Really hit the nail on the head with all the crescent moons on it."

"Admittedly tacky," he mumbles with a smirk, realizing that she's successfully derailed the conversation to avoid going into whatever's been really bothering her. He takes the few steps that put him next to her, saying, "If you're going to open my present, then can you at least tell me why you're nervous?"

She raises a brow. "Since when do you make the rules?"

"Not a rule," he amends with a shrug, "Just a request."

Her gaze is intense and searching, and after a short eternity she whispers with resolution, "Deal." And before he can get self-conscious and lower her expectations, she carefully undoes his wrapping and opens the box, lifting her gift up to her eyes. It's a simple silver key ring with a handful of keys dangling, along with a Mareanie keychain.

As her brows furrow in confusion, he explains timidly, "They're all for Aether. They're marked, but with them you have full access to all the labs, conservatory, and the offices. I know you're studying with the professor, and I thought this might help, and…" And you can visit me anytime, his thoughts fill in the blank, but Gladion instead nods as she twirls the Mareanie keychain in her hands. "And the keychain just felt like it fit."

Unable to miss the opportunity for a jab, even when she feels herself becoming overwhelmed with excitement, Moon retorts, "You think I sink poison spikes into my enemies?"

"You could if you would."

The two laugh before silence takes over the kitchen once more. She can't stop going through all the keys, her eyes full of wonder, and he can't stop watching her with a small smile. Her fingers settle on playing with the keychain as she looks back up at him, asking quietly, "You really trust me with this?"

"Of course," he scoffs without a second thought, noticing the warmth now taking over her features before adding, "Just like I trust you to hold up your end of the deal."

She frowns, but puts the keys back into the box all the same, steadying herself on the counter and closing her eyes. Taking a deep breath, Moon opens her eyes and looks up at him, and it's her turn to feel three feet tall tonight. Gladion tries his best to ignore the moonlight filtering through the kitchen window that seems to make her glow. "I know big loud parties aren't your thing," she begins slowly, deliberately keeping her expression unreadable and her voice as even as possible, even as she feels a blush spreading on her cheeks, "But I thought that you might make an exception for me. I waited all night for you to show up, and when you didn't, I felt like you stood me up. And I started wondering if you even like me at all, never mind if you –" She bites her lip to cut herself off.

Gladion feels his heart stutter to a stop. "If I what?" he asks, not sure if he's still able to breathe.

"If you've really been flirting with me like I've been trying to flirt with you for the past six months," she admits in one rushed breath, feeling her own blood run cold at the realization of what she's said. Moon refuses to break eye contact, though, even as the gravity of what she's said hits her like a tackle; in one sentence, she's broken the illusion that her feelings for the president of the Aether Foundation are anything but platonic, and she couldn't take the words back even if she wanted to.

His eyes widen and his mouth falls open slightly. "Y-you," he splutters, his brain scrambling to process her words through his shock, "You were flirting with me?" Gladion feels his head spinning as he looks down at her, to the point that he leans against the counter for support.

"Wait," she says, her own embarrassment disappearing in the blink of an eye when she realizes just how caught off guard he is by her statement. Moon raises a brow, and lets out an incredulous laugh as she asks, "You seriously didn't pick up on that?"

"I thought I did, but I wasn't sure, and I didn't –" He shakes his head, thinking to himself in his shock, She's been flirting with me and I've been trying to desperately hide my crush for a year.

Moon tilts her head. "Yes?"

Gladion looks over at the oven clock to see that it's four in the morning and he officially has nothing left to lose. He swallows the last of his pride and looks down at her, folding his arms as he explains, "I always thought you were too good for me. That maybe you were just being nice to me to humor me, or because I'm Lillie's brother."

"You think I would visit you on a nearly daily basis for years just to 'be nice'?" she scoffs, and she feels weight being lifted off her shoulders as she finally gets the chance to say the things she's been biting back for months. "Gladion, when you didn't show up tonight, I thought you'd realized that you're too good for me. You became the president of Aether when you were fourteen, for Arceus' sake!"

"You became the Alola Champion, captured a Legendary, and saved an entire region from Ultra Beasts when you were twelve," he counters.

"Yeah, but you saved Type:Null and survived on your own while –"

"Okay but you essentially dismantled an entire gang of –"

"Fine!" she shouts in exasperation, throwing her hands up in the air, "We're both too good for each other." They blink at each other, taking in the ridiculousness of the situation, and laugh, the final tension in the air being shoved out the window and into the night as it transitions to dawn. Once their laughter has died down, Moon swallows a lump in her throat, taking a half step closer to Gladion as she asks, "So now that we're at an impasse, what should we do?"

He feels his fingers twitch and takes a glance at the clock. 4:27. "Well," he says slowly, looking down at her with the smile and blush that's always been reserved just for her. "I'd like to kiss you." Her lips part slightly in surprise at his words, and he immediately backpedals, feeling himself growing nervous as he rambles, "Only if you'd let me, of course, and I don't –"

She cuts him off when she goes on her tip-toes and presses her smile gently against his lips, feeling his arms hesitantly wrap around her and pull her impossibly closer.

When they pull apart and look at each other, he finally lets himself breathe and relax, chuckling, "So, have I officially ruined your birthday?"

Moon smirks. "Absolutely. But combined with this turn of events and your amazing present, there's still something you could do to save it."

Gladion raises a brow. "And what would that be?"

Her hands go from his shoulders to cup his face as she mumbles, "Kiss me again."

And he does just that, and decides there's nothing he'd rather do at half past four in the morning with the girl he's fallen in love with.