#i don’t really wear jewellery so i had forgot about that struggle

[memeswithdrms]

george wears dream’s chain 24/7 and when he has to take it off to go through security in airports he puts it right back on every time

[storytellersumayyah]

a softer shade of blue

cw: discussions surrounding gender identity, lightly implied homophobia, negative body image, sex, discomfort around gendered terms, reference to past dubious consent (not between main pairing), tristan fears that wanting "feminine" things will mean something he doesn't want it to mean

spoilers: tristan wants to wear lingerie. he doesn't want it to change anything about who he is, and struggles to reconcile the two wants with each other. it ends happily and doesn't need to mean anything more than what he wants it to mean (which is for him to look pretty.)

Tristan realises he liked to feel pretty at some point in his life he couldn’t quite pinpoint. He’d known he was handsome, but then he’d grown into his features, and he’d observed other people, and he had realised that he wanted to be pretty as well. Beautiful seemed like something out of his reach, and he wasn’t sure he wanted that, but prettiness was easily attainable for him.

But he doesn’t want anything else. He doesn’t want princess to be used as a way of referring to him. He doesn’t want to be someone’s girl, even if it was just a roleplay and nothing more. It made his skin feel tight and uncomfortable. It makes him feel like his body wasn’t his own, which was something he swore he will never feel again.

So he hides the things that made him feel pretty from people he didn’t think would handle the words with delicacy. Like the pearl necklace an ex-girlfriend had brought for him after he’d not stopped staring at the image on his phone. When he’d tried to deny wanting it, she’d frowned and said it was just a necklace. And it was.

He hides the shirts that were slightly too large, and the shorts that cut higher than most.

He hides the make-up.

And then Rafael rashes into his life. And for all the snarky remarks, and all the teasing comments, and all the bickering, they never once comment on his appearance, unless he looked hungover (he wasn’t, which was why it was annoying). Even when Tristan forgot to take his nail polish off before a tutorial, they didn’t say anything. They just looked down at his hands and back up, and then they smiled because he’d been panicking that this was going to go too far.

He thought things might change when they started dating. It was one thing for someone to exist as they were, but it was different when they were so close to you. Or at least, that was how his parents had always made him feel.

But they don’t.

At least, not when he wears jewellery. And then nothing changes when he wore one of his favourite shirts. The one that always slips off his shoulder if he didn’t adjust it constantly.

When he wears make-up, all Rafael does is compliment him.

“Thank you for trusting me with this,” they whisper under the cover of night a few days later.

Tristan frowns. “With what?”

“Your beauty.”

Rafael is so calm, and so relaxed about it, that Tristan almost believes it could be that simple. Almost, but not quite.

“It’s not- I don’t want to be anything but who I am.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t you think that’s strange? It’s just… something. It’s not really anything.”

“Tristan. It doesn’t have to mean anything. You like being pretty, and that’s all it has to be. If you want it to be something more in the future, that’s fine. And if you don’t, that’s also fine.”

“It meant something for you though.”

Rafael cradles Tristan’s hands in his own. Tristan always likes it when Rafael holds his hands. Theirs are bigger than his, and he likes how small he ends up feeling. Because he’s chosen that delicacy for himself. And if one day, he wanted to feel bigger, if he didn’t want Rafael to overwhelm him in all the best ways, they would step back.

“It did. But that’s because I’m me. You might be different. This isn’t a children’s puzzle where everything fits neatly into its slots.”

“I like the way you describe things,” Tristan confesses. It’s not the priority, but he needs to say it.

Despite the darkness, he sees Rafael’s smile.

“Do you know how to do eyeshadow?” Rafael asks suddenly. In all honesty, Tristan had assumed they’d fallen asleep given the slowness of their breathing.

It feels embarrassing to admit at the age of twenty-six but he shakes his head. “Was never patient enough.”

“I have a palette that will suit your undertones better than mine. I’ll do it for you.”

It is such a simple act, but it does so much for him. He grins and nods. “I’d like that a lot.”

Tristan tells himself that will be enough. To wear his make-up, and his jewellery, and the clothes. There is nothing else he wants, because Rafael always said he was pretty when he made the effort to be so. But they also always call him little prince, always say this is his future husband, and never question why Tristan wanted that and nothing else to be used.

And it is enough.

Until it isn’t.

He’s out shopping with one of his friends. She’d told him he could wait outside if he was uncomfortable going into the lingerie shop, but she needed to go because her anniversary was the next day and she wanted to surprise her girlfriend. He’d frowned and said he didn’t want to stand outside looking creepy, so he’d gone in with her.

She goes to try on a set, and he doesn’t want people to think he was in the queue, so he stays on the shop floor. The designs re stunning. They are meant to make people feel good. And pretty. Maybe, if the person was right, beautiful.

So before he knows what he’s doing, he is picking up a piece of blue lace, rubbing the material between his fingers. Despite its lacy appearance, it feels comfortable. He wonders what he would look like with it on. Probably ridiculous, but maybe not. Maybe he will look like one of the models. Maybe he will look perfect, as he is sure his friend will.

“They have a men’s range, to account for the differences,” she ays from behind him. The items she’d chosen are packed in a discreet bag. It shocks him, how lost in his mind he’s gotten.

“I’m not a girl,” he blurts out.

“I know.”

“I don’t want to be a girl,” he continues. He has no idea why. He just didn’t want her thinking it’s something it isn’t.

“I know.”

“If I’m not a girl, and if I don’t want to be a girl, if I still want to be Tristan who gets referred to as little prince and boyfriend and your favourite brother even though you’ve got two, then I shouldn’t want it. I can’t want it. I’m not allowed to want it. It’s different to everything else. It’s more. It’s not- it’s not for me. It’s- I’d be taking it away from someone who had to struggle with all those big feelings and-“

“Shh, shh. Let’s go and sit down somewhere,” she says.

He nods, allowing her to guide him to somewhere quiet.

“Why aren’t you allowed to want it?”

“Because-“ he suddenly pauses. He doesn’t have a reason. “I don’t know.”

“Exactly. When you picked it up, how did you feel? I don’t want to know how you ended up feeling, or how you think you were supposed to feel. I want to know how you felt in those initial moments.”

He thinks about it. “I felt like I would be pretty. Maybe ridiculous, but maybe pretty.”

“What’s wrong with wanting that?”

“Nothing. I just- it’s not a thing.”

“It doesn’t have to be a thing. You know that.”

He can’t find the words, and it’s frustrating him. She is just trying to help. It isn’t on her to try and read his mind.

“Is it because this is clothes? Specifically aimed at women?” She asks, gentle and non-judgmental.

He freezes. “I’m not a misogynist.”

Even though she tries her best not to, she starts laughing. “I know.”

But she’s right. Even though the make-up was always advertised on female models, even though the jewellery sometimes came from the women’s section of the shop, it is different. feels felt different to him, even though it’s probably the same to everyone else. The shirts he brought to feel pretty have always come from the men’s section.

“I think it is. Because it’s clothes. Aimed at women,” he says, feeling pathetic.

“You don’t have to do it. But you should not do it because you don’t want to. Not because you’re punishing yourself for wanting it. There’s no heroicness in suffering. There’s just suffering.”

Hearing her say that makes him realise his other fear.

“I don’t want Rafael to look at me differently.”

“But are you doing this for them or for you?”

It is an easy answer. “Both of us. I want to feel pretty in something that’s almost a secret. People can tell when I’m wearing make-up or jewellery. They wouldn’t know if it’s that. But I want him to think I’m beautiful. He’s never called me that before, and that’s because I haven’t wanted him to because it feels too close to something. But I want him to call me beautiful and have it not be anything more than that. And I don’t know if he will.”

Rafael will. Rafael will never go further than Tristan wants. Even if he doesn’t understand why something was so important, he will accept it without question and only ask if he’s unsure. Tristan knows he deserves more credit, but it is the age-old anxiety.

“Then you need to tell him that. Tristan, there’s no deadline on this. You can do as much or as little as you want, and you only need to do it when you’re ready. It will always be there waiting for you.”

He smiles. “I know. Thank you.”

“Of course. Now let’s go get some lunch, yeah?”

He nods, stomach rumbling as if on cue.

She sends him a link that evening.

For whenever you’re ready.

He opens it on his phone. It is designed like the average clothing website, which he appreciates. He still only gets through two rows of three designs before he closes the tab, suddenly too overwhelmed to do any more than that.

If Rafael is aware of his inner turmoil he doesn’t comment. Tristan appreciates the space because it comes from a good place.

Eventually he grows tired of his hesitancy. Rachel, his best and only friend from college, always said she responded to situations that terrified her with five seconds of bravery. Five seconds is nothing, but it is enough to start. And once she started, things weren’t scary anymore. They were just something she was doing.

So he waits till Rafael goes out and he filters by his size and the colour blue. White feels like too much, and he knows how good blue looked on him. Some of the items are still too far out of his comfort zone, so he filters those out as well, in order to make sure he actually places the order.

Confirming the purchase doesn’t make him feel sick as he thought it might have. If anything, it makes him feel relieved. He could want something, and take it, and the world wouldn’t end.

When the parcel arrives, he puts it inside his bed drawer. He isn’t ready to wear it yet, but he doesn’t feel guilty about that.

Sometimes he takes it out and looks at it. Once, when he feels especially brave, he holds it up against himself. But then he sees his reflection in the mirror and he has to put it down. Has to put it away in his drawer, underneath the rest of his clothes. Which are all meant to be worn by him.

Holding it up, he looks stupid. He looks like he is playing dress-up. He isn’t delicate or soft enough. He isn’t Rachel, or his friend. He is calloused hands and hard lines and roughness. He isn’t pretty enough, and he never will be, no matter how badly he wants it.

Rafael inds him sitting on the bedroom floor, tears flowing from his eyes.

“My little prince. Mi corazón. Come back to me whenever you’re ready. Come back, and we’ll make it all better. I swear.”

It is an impossible promise, but he managed to breathe.

“My good boy. He’s so brave,” Rafael says.

Tristan smiles. “Raf.”

“My little prince.”

“You’re perfect.”

“I’m not. Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head immediately. “But I want to take care of you. You’ve been running yourself ragged and I need a distraction.”

Rafael has learnt to trust that Tristan will be honest. So they nod, smiling as Tristan leads them to the bathroom and runs them a bath, complete with a hair wash and snacks. And then Rafael looks up at him with loving eyes and a perfect mouth and asks to take him to bed. Tristan nods, needing to feel close.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers against Tristan’s stomach.

Tristan whimpers. He isn’t wearing make-up. He’s taken his jewellery off. His clothes have been discarded somewhere- probably in the bathroom. He is sitting in Rafael’s lap, legs trembling and completely overwhelmed. And yet, Rafael thinks he is pretty.

“Was that okay?” They ask, suddenly remembering that they hadn’t really discussed this.

Tristan nods. “Perfect. It was- you were- you can say that. Even now. Promise.”

Rafael nods with a smile, ducking their head slightly to press light kisses to his skin.

Tristan takes the items out of the drawer the day after.

He repeats that for another month.

And then he decides to be brave for another five seconds.

He changes, but he doesn’t look in the mirror. He isn’t ready for that yet.

“Tristan, I’m back!” Rafael yells.

Tristan swallows. Then he covers himself with the blanket, making sure none of what he is wearing was visible. “I’m in the bedroom.”

Rafael immediately enters, sleeves rolled up to his forearms and feet bare. “Well hello there handsome.”

Tristan can’t help but laugh. “I have a surprise. And you can use feminine descriptors, but no feminine nicknames okay? And you can’t laugh. If you don’t like it, you can tell me, but don’t laugh. And it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a thing. It’s not something.”

“I would never laugh at you. I think I might know what you mean, which is why I’m asking this. Do you feel good?”

Tristan thinks about it. He’d been stressed about accidentally seeing his reflection, and what he would do if Rafael decided this was too much, and that had left him with very little time to consider how he was actually feeling.

“I think I do. Yes.”

Rafael nods. “Then that’s all that matters, mi corazón.”

Tristan has heard the words so many times that they were finally starting to sink in. So he takes a deep breath, and he tells himself to be brave. Just for a few seconds. And he unravels the blanket, leaving him in the items that had come so long ago.

Rafael’s breath catches in their throat. “My god, Tristan.”

He blinks, not expecting him to be so enthusiastic. “Do you like it?”

Rafael steps forward, then hesitates. “Of course I love it. You look- you look beautiful. Stunning. Tristan. You’re a piece of art.”

Tristan feels the heat rise to his cheeks. “Do you really mean it?”

“My little prince. When have I ever lied to you?”

Prince. Because that’s what he is. “Never.”

“Exactly. Can I- can I touch you?”

“Please,” Tristan begs. Rafael’s gaze is an overpowering thing. He needs more.

As though he’s been released from chains, Rafael surges forward. But then he kneels down in front of the bed, looking up at Tristan as he lifts a stocking-clad leg to balance on his shoulder, pressing gentle kisses from his ankle upwards. Tristan exhales shakily. Even though it is through the fabric, it is setting his skin on fire.

“You look so delicate. So fragile. I almost- I’m scared I’m going to break you,” Rafael whispers.

He whines. “You won’t. You won’t- you know you won’t so just-“

Rafael shushes him gently. “I know, my little prince. You’re the strongest person I know. But I still want to be careful with you. You’ll give me that won’t you?”

Tristan can never deny Rafael anything. He nods. “Always.”

“Thank you, my beautiful boy,” they say, pressing several kisses to his inner thighs. Tristan squirms, but Rafael places his hands on his hips and pushes down, trapping him against the mattress.

“It’s so soft,” they whisper, in reference to the fabric covering him. It is slightly stained, but Tristan doesn’t want to take it off. Not just yet. It’s why he makes a sound of protest when Rafael goes to tug it down his legs. They immediately let go.

“Don’t stop. Just don’t take it off yet. I don’t mind the feeling,” he says.

Rafael nods, pressing one final kiss to his hip before moving up to kiss his mouth, deep and slow and perfect.

“Did you tie this yourself?” He asks, placing his hand on Tristan’s back, right over the corset ties, in order to raise him slightly.

Tristan nods. “Want you to do it next time.” It’s nice to say there will be a next time. Every other item had felt overwhelming, or too much, but the corset had felt right. And tying it had felt nice, even if it was just so the ribbons weren’t just hanging loose.

“I’d be honoured. Do you want to leave it on?”

He shakes his head. “Want you to take me apart. Feel ready now.”

“Mi corazón. My little prince. My beautiful, beautiful boy. Thank you. For this. For trusting me, always. For everything.”

Rafael undoes the corset ties with such care, and with kisses to every part of exposed skin that Tristan can’t do anything more than close his eyes and let the sensations overwhelm him, in the best way possible.

“You’ve never looked more beautiful than when you’ve been spread out underneath me, unable to hide how good I’m making you feel,” Rafael says. And it should’ve been awful, should’ve killed the mood or sounded like a terrible pick-up line, but it doesn’t. It sounds good and honest and true. All the things that Rafael is.

The word beautiful penetrates the haze that Tristan’s mind had become. He goes lax in Rafael’s hold.

He feels good.

He feels the way he had been craving for so long.

And it isn’t because Rafael is encompassing him from every angle, so gentle, like he really does think Tristan is something that could break.

It is because he feels comfortable in his skin. He feels pretty, but he still like himself. He can have what he wants, he can have it mean as much as he wants it to, and he can be happy. He can wear lingerie and still be Rafael’s boyfriend.

But more than that, he can be beautiful. And nothing will change.

It is like Rafael read his mind. “Tristan,” they exhale. “My beautiful, little prince.”

He goes tumbling over the edge, safer than ever before as Rafael never lets go of him.

When he comes around, Rafael is wiping him down, pyjamas already on the bed.

“You scared me a little,” he says.

Tristan rubs his eyes a little. “Sorry.”

Rafael shakes his head. “It’s okay. Wasn’t too much, was it?”

Tristan considers. “Liked it. And it wasn’t. Was good. Thank you. For always being good to me.”

Rafael shifts so he can kiss Tristan’s forehead. It is that, over everything else, that makes Tristan melt into him. “I don’t know how to be anything else.”

Tristan smiles, bringing his arms up to wrap around their back. “I love you.”

“I love you too, my little prince.”

And in that moment, Tristan knows that nothing he does will ever change that.

buy me a ko-fi! | read my novel!

[simplefelicity]

What I wanted in 2023

this is the third in a series of posts in which i reflect on my 2023 from a financial perspective, using data from my financial journal.

things i can kind of remember wanting

a more precise scale. to weightyarn scraps with more precision. i have to weigh them like once every 5 months so it’s very low priority.

Masterclass subscription. sometimes those ads really get to me, you know? but i know that i’d use it for a week and then drop it. not worth it unless i seriously commit to it.

clothes steamer. something i think about from time to time, especially in the summer. but i wouldn’t have much use of it anyway.

bubble tea with friends. we ended up not being able to go that time and when we met afterwards we were like “nah”.

i'm constantly struggling against the urge of starting a small ceramics animals collection. my heart tells me yes, my hate for dusting forbids me.

things that i’m like? but why???

getting a snack at an underground station in the city centre, specifically so that i would get change and perhaps there would be funky coins there (i collect euros from other countries)

lime nail polish. i do not use nail polish.

knives out poster. when glass onion came out, i intensely wanted a poster for 2 days and scoured the internet for one and then forgot all about it.

old letters or journals. thankfully i didn’t buy those, because i already have some and have no idea what to do with them. should i donate them to a museum? and they cost a pretty penny too!

jellycat bashful cottontail bunny. i saw it in a store and was like: mine! i don’t know why. i already have one in another colour and no intentions of starting a collection.

jellycat fluffy bunny (oatmeal). i remembered the other one but this one? why?

opal ring like the one Lucy wears in The Rookie. if you’ve watched the series, you know which one. i don’t even wear silver jewellery.

perfume. i would never wear it anyway.

scented candle. i have no idea what got into me.

books

(i would absolutely buy any and all these books but for the sake of my minimalism) (i didn’t expect there to be so many)

Cassandra Calin comics.

Strange Planet comics.

Kate Beaton comics.

(they are all brilliant & i’d like to support the authors)

Come Fly The World by Julia Cooke, a physical copy. it’s a book i really enjoyed reading on ebook (and higly recommend!). once i have purged all my other books i’ll consider getting a secondhand copy.

Knitting Comfortably by Carson Demers. a book about the ergonomics of handknitting. i’d buy the ebook but it doesn’t exist! you can only get a physical copy for 50$ + shipping from the States. no thank you.

Pride and Prejudice, Penguin Deluxe Edition. because it’s gorgeous. but i already have a copy

Pride and Prejudice, funny edition. i found on Vinted an edition of p&p with Darcy smoking on the cover. i would be more precise on what edition it was, but i unfavourited because i knew i’d end up buying it if i had easy access to it and i can’t find it again.

642 Things to Draw. because sometimes i’m like “maybe i should start drawing again!” and then i never do.

things i will consider actually buying

new coat. an item that was mentioned various times but i did not end up buying. my current coat’s only problem is that the pockets’ zip doesn’t work anymore. i should just pay to have them repaired.

stitch markers for knitting. unfortunately i only like the very expensive ones you see on Etsy. but i was able to find some on Vinted, so...

beads for jewellery making. i saw some cute ones at Tiger for like 2€ so...

cross-stitch embroidery material. i like cross-stitching but it’s so expensive! and i already spend a lot in yarn.

tarot deck. i’ve been wanting one for years, just for giggles. i don’t think i’d ever use it, though, so i never end up buying it. sooner or later i’ll relent.

a new wallet. i have had my wallet for… 10 years? it still does it’s job and it didn’t get ruined but it’s not very fashionable. it is a bit bulky but i have other small wallets that i never use for one reason or another

barefoot shoes. sooner or later i’ll buy these but i don’t really have the time or money right now. also, i hate shopping.

footstool. my desk chair is too tall.

cotton yarn for a project. i will buy that sooner or later.

[machine-gun-casie]

Latest Addition

you get a new necklace and colson feels some type of way.

wc: 1k

tw: the use of ‘baby’ way too many goddamn times im sorry alright

Colson heard a small commotion at his bedroom door, it almost sounded like someone was struggling to open it. He walked over and pulled the door open causing you to stumble into the room, bags upon bags on both your arms.

You smiled when you made eye contact with him. “Hey, baby.” You sighed and placed all the shopping bags on the floor and turned to your boyfriend. You put your arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss.

“Where have you been, baby girl?” He asked against your lips.

“Shopping, needed a pair of heels for that thing next week.” He hummed, giving you another kiss. “And I got some churros at the mall, they were so good. Next time we go, you have to try them.”

“They taste pretty good to me.” Colson chuckled, pecking your lips one more time for emphasis. 

You chuckled and pulled away. “Alright, sweet talker. I gotta put this stuff away and- Oh my god, I forgot to show you!” You exclaimed suddenly, shuffling through the bags to find one in particular.

Colson watched you pull out a small bag out of the pile. “What’s that, baby?”

“I’ve been meaning to get one for a long time, but I just couldn’t find the right one.” You explained as you pulled out what looked to be a small jewellery box. “But I saw this one and I had to get it.”

You opened the box and inside was a delicate necklace with a little charm sitting on the chain. “Can you put it on for me?”

Colson took the chain out of the box and you turned around, clearing the back of your neck for him to secure it properly. When he was done, he pulled you closer and placed a kiss on your neck. “Why’ve you been meaning to buy this necklace? What’s so special about it?”

You turned to face him and held the charm between your fingers. “It’s a ‘C’.” You said, like it explained everything.

“And?”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled. “It’s for you, silly. Colson, C. Just wanna, you know… If you’re not with me, everyone can still know I’m yours. I don’t know, sounds kinda stupid now that I say it out loud, I just thought-”

Colson stopped your rambling by placing a kiss on your lips for the umpteenth time since you walked through the door. “How are you- so- fucking- perfect?” Colson asked you, kissing you even more throughout the question. You laughed and brushed him off, saying how it was only a necklace. 

But to Colson, it wasn’t just a necklace. And he couldn’t get it out of his head.

For the next few days, Colson was full on glowing. A huge grin would spread on his face every time he caught sight of you with the necklace on. He couldn’t believe how proud you were to be his. It was just a necklace, and granted others before you have done more than wear a necklace with his initial hanging from it.

But with you… With you, it was just different. He couldn’t compare you to anyone else. He already knew he was in love with you, but this sealed the deal for him.

He knew what he was going to do. So he texted Pete. And Pete was glad to help.

A few days later, you woke up to see Colson in the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. You got up out of bed and went over to him. 

“Hey, baby.” You smiled, propping yourself up on the counter in front of him. “Whatcha doing?”

“Just looking at the latest addition.” He mumbled, slotting himself between your legs and putting his hands on your waist, but kept his eyes on the mirror. He could still see himself in the mirror over you due to his insane giraffe-ness.

“You got a new one? When?” You asked, looking over his skin to see if you could find it.

“Last night, Pete came over with a tattoo gun.” Colson answered, thumbs rubbing against the skin under your shirt.

“Pete was here last night? Where was I?”

“You were asleep, baby. Couldn’t bring myself to wake you up.” Colson finally looked at you now, leaving the mirror alone. “I think I like the placement.”

“I think it’s a little too late for that kind of thinking, don’t you think?” You chuckled, placing your hand on his chest. “Where is it?”

Colson removed your hand from his chest and pointed at the little tattoo you missed. It was right below the ‘9’ in his ‘19XX’ tattoo. You’re not sure how you missed it. 

“Colson, is that-”

“It’s your initial.” He casually responded, as if it was nothing. “Was telling Pete about your necklace last night, how I wanted to get something like it for you. Looked up where your heart is ‘cause we were both high as fuck.” He laughed. “Google said it was in the center, but a little to the left. So I put it right there.”

“Colson, a necklace and a tattoo are not the same.” Granted he could get it covered up, it was really small. But you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that he was so okay with having your initial inked on his body. “What if we don’t work out? A tattoo doesn’t go away all that easy. I mean, I love you, I really do. But we don’t know what’s gonna happen in a year. Or a month. Hell, even a day.”

“Calm down, y/n.” Colson chuckled, holding your hands in his. “You’re right. We have no clue what might happen,” He mused. “But I know I love you now. And now is what’s important. A year, a month, or even a day from now could change everything. But I respect this me. If I don’t love you later, I’m still gonna respect this me. Because this me is head over fucking heels for you.”

“I fucking hate you.” You spoke through the smile you tried so hard to hide.

“Mhm, sure.” Colson smirked at you then threw his head back in a laugh. “Sweetheart, you can never stay mad at me.”

You groaned and hit your head against his chest, looking up close at his latest addition. “I hate that you’re always right.”

[tomtenadia]

Island Dreams - Chapter 29

DreamsSo, chapter 29 is here and I am sorry. This chapter has angst. The angst gremlin was in a good mood and this chapter happened. I am sorry. So, so sorry. It does end with fluff but it takes a while.Also, there is a bit of a medical situation. I hope i got it right. I am not a med student. I just used years watching medical dramas and research on google to be accurate, but if i wrote some medical blunders I apologise. It's a fanfic :)Just have some chocolate ready :)

--------

It was a few days after Aelin and Rowan had come back from their small holiday in Glasgow. As planned they had taken a few more days to go back to the islands and they had a small and relaxing holiday on Skye. Aelin had been exhausted after their trip to the A&E so Rowan had decided to err of the side of caution and they had spent most of their time in the cottage or on a beach with a couple of drives through the countryside. Not what Aelin had dreamed but Rowan had been adamant that they were going to stay in the car. Even with the limitations, they still had a fantastic time but eventually they both had to go back to work. Rowan had begged Aelin to ask to start maternity leave a bit earlier on the basis of a at risk pregnancy, but she did not listen, so that morning she had left for work after he had made his displeasure quite clear and their fight had been quite epic. They had parted with no nice words and just ignored each other.

A really heavy rain with strong winds had been lashing the islands since the early morning. Rowan was checking the forecast website and the meteorologists had classed it as storm and once again it was going to be bad. He was in the shop and started pacing, while staring at the raging winds outside. Aelin was driving to work in those conditions and he was nervous. He should have offered to drive her, but he had been mad after the fight they had in the morning and now he regretted it. She was not used to drive in such conditions and although she didn’t have much to drive, he was still anxious. The short drive from their place to work had been horrific, even for someone with experience like him. The roads were flooded in most places and the very strong winds had made driving very hard. Anxiety rising he quickly phoned the A&E reception and asked if she was there already but the nurse told him she wasn’t. He didn’t want to phone her because that might distract her from driving and put her and the girls in danger. Lysandra was walking around the shop and sorting out a few things while he fidgeted nervously at the desk. “You seem nervous.” Rowan sighed “Aelin is on her way to work in this storm.” He took a sip of his coffee “I should have driven her. I called the hospital and she is not there yet. She should be. It has been fifty minutes already. It takes half an hour tops from our house on a bad day.” “Maybe she is just driving slowly because of the weather.” Said the woman trying to calm him down. Rowan closed his eyes and tried to slow down his heart that was racing in his chest. He was freaking out. He took a deep breath and went back to work. While he was working away on the computer, his eyes kept drifting to his mobile phone near the keyboard. He had asked her to text him when she had arrived. And the more the time passed without news the more nervous he became.

It was much later when his phone went off but not how he expected. An unknown number was calling him. He ignored it. When the number tried again after just one minute he picked up, maybe it was Aelin from the hospital. “Hello?” “Rowan?” He knew that voice. It was Malcolm. The panic rose. Why was he calling him? “Hi Malcolm? Is Aelin at work? She left a while ago and she hasn’t texted me.” “Rowan, something happened.” Rowan all of a sudden felt sick “I need you to come to the hospital immediately.” Rowan forgot how to breath. How to think or function. “Rowan?” “I… I am coming.” He breathed “Is she….” He could not add anything. Could not make himself think of the worst. “Not on the phone.” Rowan hung up. “That was Malcolm. I need to go.” That’s all he said to Lysandra. The woman had tried to ask for more info but Rowan had disappeared already. She knew Malcolm was Aelin’s second at the hospital and if he had phoned it meant something had happened. Everything was a blur. He was moving on muscle memory. He had no idea of what he was doing. He got in the car and drove to the hospital as if his life depended on that trip. He was at the hospital not long after and ran into the A&E and Malcolm was there to meet him. “Rowan, wait.” Said Malcolm grabbing the man’s arm. “Where is she? What happened?” Rowan’s voice was full of panic. His eyes scanned the beds for her but he could not see Aelin. Was he too late? His heart was racing and the feeling of sickness came back. She could not… “Come with me.” Said Malcolm calmly and with a touch of tenderness. “Mal, where is she?” He was on the verge of tears and almost shouted at the man. He wanted news. Malcolm stopped “She had an accident, Rowan. A bad one. A passerby called the ambulance when he saw her car…” and he trailed off. The man did not need the details “She was brought in urgently. She is in surgery now.” Rowan had to force himself to remember how to breathe again. He tried to say something but his brain was paralysed. “I don’t know anything. She came into the A&E, we stabilised her and went straight to surgery and I don’t have anymore news. She was alive though when she came in. We didn’t have time to check for the twins but Yrene was called immediately.” Rowan felt tears come out of him, his hand went to his mouth as if to stop the heavy sob ready to burst. “Sit down. I’ll come back as soon as I have an update.” Malcolm patted his shoulder and left him. Rowan sat down in the waiting room and stared at the window as his mind replayed every single word Malcolm had said. She was alive. What about the twins? Did they survive the crash? She is alive. He kept telling himself as a mantra. Forcing himself to believe it. Malcolm came back an hour later and sat down beside him. “I have an update.” Rowan nodded as in a daze and barely noticed the man sitting at his side. “She is still in surgery. She had internal injuries and they are working on stopping the bleeding and keeping the twins alive at the same time.” He paused and Rowan knew there was more “She has a head injury and they are checking the extent of the head damage as well. She is good hands, Rowan. They will be fine.” Rowan stood and left and went outside and stood under the sheltered area of the drop off section and stared at the rain in a futile attempt to empty his brain and dull the extreme pain ensnaring his heart. They had a fight. The last conversation they had was a stupid fight. He did not kiss her. Did not tell her he loved her like every morning before she left for work. Too mad and too proud to even try and fix things and apologise for the horrible things he had said. They both had said. It was the very first vicious fight they ever had. And now she was in surgery. Now she was fighting for her life and he could well risk losing her. If anything happened to her he would always remember the nasty things they had said to each other. He felt bile rise in his stomach. That could not be. He needed to apologise to her, tell her he loved her. He sat on the bench for a moment but then got up again, his body incapable of staying still. He felt like he was drowning in his grief. He started pacing and did not stop until his body started to protest and exhausted he sat again on the bench. He leaned forward and the pendant around his neck slipped off his t-shirt and the grief came rushing back. She had bought that for him. While on Skye they had found a shop that sold Celtic jewellery and she had bought him a necklace with a pendant of the Tree of Life. He had told her he did not wear necklaces but she, with her usual stubbornness, had convinced him and he had caved. Because he could not say no to her. Now he gripped the pendant in his hand as if to keep the connection with her “Don’t leave me…” he whispered as tears began flowing again “I can’t. There is no way without you.” Much later Malcolm found him again and Rowan felt fear grip him. He looked at Malcolm and he noticed a faint smile in the man’s face. He had just realised that Malcolm was just as worried as him. He and Aelin had become great friends and the man cared a lot about her. The man took his hand gripping it hard “She is out of surgery.” Rowan let out a breath he did not know he was holding. Out of surgery was at least a positive. “She suffered what we call a pneumothorax, one of her lungs collapsed from the crash. I fixed it when she came into the A&E. She was intubated on the scene. Paramedics said she was still conscious for a while but she was struggling breathing. Then she passed out, probably from the concussion.There was internal bleeding in her abdomen but the surgeon treated that and the twins are safe. Yrene was in the OR as well.” Malcolm explained while Rowan sat beside him, head hung low “The head injury was far less serious than thought. The concussion is still quite bad but the neurologist cleared her but they need to keep her under observation for all the reasons I mentioned.” Rowan heard Malcolm chuckle “At least being strong headed has its perks.” Rowan squeezed the hand back. “She is in the ICU and currently still intubated and unconscious. She is not out of the woods yet and that’s why she will stay in intensive care for a few days probably. Her being pregnant means we need to tackle things differently to avoid causing harm to the twins.” Malcolm explained and felt Rowan hand shake in his “when they brought her in…” he looked away “I felt as if someone had just kicked me in the guts.” Rowan noticed his voice shaking as well “I do this every day, but when they bring in someone you know, it gets impossible to think straight. All my years of medical and military training went down the drain for an instant. I could not move or act.” “Thank you.” Rowan’s words were a whisper. “I know how it feels…” the man said “To be on the other side. To wait for news…I lost my partner and I didn’t even get to see him because we were continents apart. I know the heart shattering pain behind the call. I took me a while to get the courage to call you. And Aelin…” Malcolm’s voice was on the verge of breaking “she is my best friend. I spent the last three hours camped in front of the door to the OR. It’s a miracle they haven’t kicked me out.” “Thank you.” Rowan had no strength for anything else. “We can go and see her if you want.” The man said standing up. Rowan did not move “we had a fight this morning.” He confessed with a weak voice “a really, really bad one. She was not at her greatest and I told her it was time for her to ask for maternity leave and screw the hospital. She did not like it. We fought. We told each other things we did not mean. She left the house so mad at me. I did not kiss her or told her I loved her.” He looked up at Malcolm “and all I have been thinking is that if I loose her I could not live with the regret that those had been our last words. And it’s killing me.” Malcolm sat back down beside him. “She knows you love her.” Mal placed a hand on Rowan’s knee “and I have been telling her to go on maternity leave for a while and I believe Yrene has been doing the same. I have tried taking over her on difficult cases and stopped her from doing surgery. But she is stubborn and you know it. And I had fights too. You are not the only one. She told she did not become a doctor to sit behind a desk. But I have been keeping an eye on her and probably the entire staff. She hasn’t been well.” Rowan sighed “we had a trip to the A&E in Glasgow.” He admitted. “By the time she recovers from this it will be time for her to deliver the twins.” Malcolm stood again “let’s go.” Rowan froze. He wasn’t sure if he was ready. Then he sighed and stood and dried his eyes with the back of his hand “Let’s go and annoy her for making us worry.” Malcolm laughed and for a moment Rowan relaxed as well until he stopped in front of the closed door of her room in the ICU ward. He put a hand on the handle and froze. He was now alone. Malcolm had to go back to his job but had promised to go and visit. Rowan was terrified of what was on the other side of the door. “Are you okay?” Asked a nurse at his side when she noticed him immobile in front of the door. “Yeah. I am just…” he noticed his hand shake. He was about to add something when a familiar voice called his name, he turned and noticed Yrene walking toward him. “Malcolm told me he phoned you.” She stopped in front of him. “How….? “I was in the OR. I checked on her. We thought for a moment we had to deliver the twins but we managed to avoid it. Still too early. But they are fine now. She is fine. She is strong.” Rowan hugged the woman “Thank you.” It seemed as if that we the only sentence he could utter. “I assume you are here to see her.” He nodded. “I can come in with you if it helps.” Rowan stared at the door “Please.” He wasn’t sure he could make it in the room on his own. Yrene opened the door and he paused before following. And when he saw her he froze on the spot and almost felt sick. She looked so small in the hospital bed. Her colour was off and her blonde hair looked dull. Heavy bandage covered one side of her head. A tube attached to a machine made sure she breathed properly a small one, a feeding tube probably, sneaked out of her nose, cables connected the pads monitoring her heart beat and plastic tubes connected the needles on her hand to the IV bag at her side. The he noticed the cuts and bruises on her arms and on her face. “Paramedics said she is alive because she was wearing a seat belt. The firefighters had to pry the car door open to extract her.” explained Yrene. Rowan heard the woman speak at his side. “It looks like she lost control of the car due to the heavy rain.” Malcolm had omitted those details and looking at her he realised how close he had been to loose the three of them. He could not breathe. He left the room and leaned against the wall trying to stop a panic attack from striking. “Rowan…” said Yrene placing a hand on his arm “I am sorry I didn’t mean…” Rowan slid down until he was crouching and he let the tears and the sobs go. “I almost…” he sobbed “I almost lost the three of them.” He finally allowed himself to fully shed the tears he had stopped before. “She is my everything.” He looked up at Yrene “the three of them. I…” his voice broke and he kept on sobbing while the doctor was kneeling in front of him. He started hyperventilating and Yrene placed a hand on his shoulder “Rowan. Look at me. You are having a panic attack.” She took both of his hands “Breath in and out. Do it with me.” And together they did it and after a while Rowan felt like himself again and started breathing normally once more. With the back of his hand he brushed away the tears and took one final deep breath. “I am sorry…” “For what? For crying? There is nothing wrong with it.” He nodded and stood. “Thank you.” He gave her another hug and eventually he got back in the room. He grabbed the chair and sat down beside Aelin and grabbed her bandaged hand into his. He sat in silence, listening to the storm raging outside and the steady beeping of the machines. Below it, there was another one giving a stranger sound and he assumed that was the babies heartbeat. He placed his free hand on the bump “Hi you three…” and kissed the bump and he felt a kick. That was a good sign “I have been so scared. I almost lost you all and the idea almost broke me.” He lifted her hand to his mouth “thank you for listening to me. I know that the seat belt while pregnant makes you uncomfortable but thank you for listening to this paranoid old man.” Tears were flowing again and he started singing Every River to her “there is no way without you…” he whispered again once he was finished. “I am sorry for this morning.” He kissed her hand again letting his tears streak along his cheeks “I am so sorry. I just wanted you to slow down and look after yourself. I don’t want to control your life.” He leaned his head against the bed and his shoulders shook with the sobs “I love you. I love you. You are my everything and I promise I will be a better man. I promise I will be worthy of you.” He squeezed her hand “Just don’t leave me, please.” He remained in that position for a time that felt like an eternity, talking to her and begging her forgiveness for his bad temper until he heard a knock and Lysandra appeared on the door. He lifted his head, eyes still puffy. He looked at Lysandra and realised her face probably matched his. Once he had an update on Aelin he had phoned Lys to explain what happened. He had left the shop like a madman. “Hey,” “Hi.” He managed, his voice still gruff. Lysandra waited on the doorstep but with his head he gestured to her to come in. “I will not stay long. I am not allowed in technically. I am not family.” “She would want you here.” His voice was flat and devoid of all emotions. “How is she? They?” Then as an instinct she went to the bottom of the bed and grabbed her chart. Far better than let Rowan retell her everything. The man looked like a wreck. “Looks like they have done a good job,” and placed the chart back. Lysandra moved a step closer to him and placed a hand on his shoulder squeezing. They both stood there in silence until Lysandra spoke “I really need to go.” She added “I closed the shop as usual. You don’t worry about it for the next few days. I’ll look after it. You need to stay with her, okay?” Lysandra’s words were said through sobs. Rowan stood and hugged her. “Look after her, please.” “Always.” He replied, brushing her tears away. Lysandra left and Rowan went back to his seat. He wished he had comforted the woman a bit more but he could barely think. So he relaxed and hoped Lysandra would understand. A doctor came in a few times and he gave him an update telling him that they were planning to keep her in the ICU for a few more days. He explained that she was not out of the woods just yet. As good news he told him that they were planning to remove the ventilator the following morning. Her oxygen levels had improved significantly and it was safe to let her breathe on her own. Rowan allowed himself to sigh relieved.

He had spent the entire night on the chair and when Rowan woke up the following morning by the noise of the nurses going about their job he felt stiff and sore. “I am sorry,” he apologised to one of the nurses “I fell asleep last night.” He turned to Aelin and noticed the tube was gone and looked at the woman. “The doctor removed it this morning. She is breathing with no problems and her oxygen levels are stable and good and there is no risk for the babies either. Their heartbeat is quite strong. Dr. McIver was in as well and he gave her a check up.” Then the nurse went to check her IV “her edema is improving as well. The doctor declared that her neurological responses are all normal. They are keeping her sedated a little longer to allow the body to rest.” Rowan almost hugged the nurse “They will be fine. She might have to stay in the hospital a little bit but they are okay.” She said affectionately “I will come back later. If you need anything I am here.” “Is it okay if I bring her own clothes? She must be uncomfortable with the hospital gown.” “Let me know when you are back and I will help you change her. She has tubes and all sorts of things attached to her.” Rowan nodded and the nurse left him. He leaned forward and kissed Aelin on the cheek “I am coming back soon. I am going to get you a few of my t-shirts and your nice comfy trousers.” Another kiss “I love you.”

When he came back two hours later he noticed Malcolm on the chair he had previously occupied. “Hi Mal.” The man stood in a swift motion “The doctor gave me an update, looks like she will be okay after all.” Rowan nodded “they removed the respirator.” “That is always a good sign.” Explained Malcolm “I sneaked a look at her chart and the test are all good and her neurological functions are perfect which was my fear. The head injury looked far more serious than what it turned out to be.” Rowan dropped the bag on the floor “Yeah, that’s what the doctor said.” “Have you eaten? Have you slept here all night?” Rowan nodded “On the chair and yes I had a quick bite at home.” “I can get you coffee, food, let me know okay?” “Mal,” Rowan asked quietly “Why is her head bandaged that way if the injury wasn’t serious?” “Rowan, every single head injury can be problematic. All I saw when she came in was her head covered in blood and a deep and long gash. That’s why I feared. But it looks like it was not deep enough to damage the skull and the swelling was minimal. It’s for protection. She will have stitches.” “Thanks.” He sighed “I keep fearing the worst. And all the bandages make it look terrifying.” “Do you trust me?” Rowan nodded. “I know that between the tubes, cables and machinery it might seem bad, but that’s the scary side of ICU. They want her here another day because before moving her, they want to be extra sure everything is okay.” “Thanks.” Then Malcolm chuckled “I am waiting for her to wake up and starting giving orders to nurses and doctors.” Rowan let out a gentle chuckle. The sound still felt alien. Malcolm pager went off “Aaaand I have to go.” He gave Aelin a kiss on the cheek and left. Rowan went to call the nurse and with her help they got Aelin into more comfortable clothes. “Thank you for the help.” Once the nurse was away he sat back down and grabbed a book “I brought our favourite book. I know angst is not what you want just now but I might read some of your favourite parts.” And gently he deposited a kiss on her head. Rowan kept reading all the way through the afternoon and once he was finished he placed the book on the nightstand and grabbed her hand in his “do you remember when I was the one who got in an accident and you had to pretend you were my wife?” He chuckled “it felt really nice to be your fake husband for a few hours.” He brushed her cheeks with the back of his hand, then his hand moved down to the bump and lowered the blankets enough to expose a bit of her belly and deposit a kiss on it. “Hi girls. I hope you are okay and keeping mum some company. She really needs you right now.” A small kick against his hand “I know, I am scared too,” another kick and Rowan finally found again the strength to let a small laugh go “I know, I love you too.”

It was two days later when Rowan was told by the doctor that they were happy to finally move her out of the ICU. They had explained that she had been stable enough that she did not need the ICU anymore. Yrene had further explained that they were going to move her in a room in the maternity ward. The pregnancy was the only thing that needed to be kept under control and Yrene wanted to have her under constant observation. “We are also removing the sedation. Which means she will slowly wake up. She will be groggy and with a monumental headache, but I expect her to wake up within a couple of hours.” “Are the girls okay?” Yrene leaned against the edge of the bed “She hit one side of her belly. It did not damage the uterus or the placenta but a trauma like this can cause what we call placental abruption, which means that the placenta detaches partially or completely from the uterine wall. A severe case can lead to death. I am checking her quite regularly to make sure nothing develops.” She explained to him “But when she gets discharged I want her on bed rest. She is not going back to work, she will only be allowed to get out to bed to pee. And I am not joking.” “I have been telling her to ask for early maternity leave for a while and I think Malcolm had been pestering her as well.” “Glad to know we are on the same side on this.” Yrene left and he sat on the bed beside her, one hand in hers and the free one on the bump “Did you hear Yrene? We are putting you under house arrest. But don’t worry, I’ll bring you books, I’ll cook and do anything you need. We’ll make a nice cocoon of the bed and have Netflix ready for you to binge watch when you are too tire to read.” He kissed her head “you scared the hell out of me, Fireheart. I thought I was going to lose you and the girls and and I almost went mad with grief.” He realised he had fallen asleep only much later when he felt a gentle pressure on the hand that was still holding Aelin’s. His heart raced all of a sudden. “Aelin, move your finger again if you hear me.” The movement this time was a bit more pronounced and he saw the finger bend against his hand. “Fireheart…” he called her. Slowly he saw her eyes flutter open. Her beautiful blue eyes staring at him. “Aelin…” he repeated with a broken voice. She looked at him and gave him a very faint and weak smile. She tried to speak but Rowan stopped her. “You were intubated. Your throat must be on fire.” He grabbed a glass of water “drink a little.” He brought the glass to her mouth and she drank. “What…” “You had an accident. You had surgery and had been out for three days. You also injured you head with a bad concussion.” He caressed her head “you got stitches and the doctor said you might experience headaches. You were in the ICU for three days but now they moved you to the maternity ward.” At those words Aelin’s eyes filled with terror. “The twins are fine. Yrene feared they might have to deliver early but in the end there was no need. But she is keeping you under observation for a pathology connected to the placenta. I don’t remember the term she used. “Placental…” she croaked “abruption.” Rowan nodded and took her hand when he saw terror in her blue eyes “You are fine for now. Yrene is just being very careful.” And at those words Aelin relaxed a bit. “You freaked out Malcolm.” Confessed Rowan trying to lighten the mood. “No way.” “You did. Big time. That’s how bad it was.” Rowan sat beside her on his chair and again took her hand “Lys was here very briefly. I am keeping her in the loop and she has been keeping the shop open.” Aelin gave him a tight smile. He then leaned forward and kissed her gently on her lips “Rest now, please. I will be here. I am not going anywhere.”

It was the middle of the night and Aelin woke up all of a sudden screaming “Rowan!” she shouted. He was awake in a second and noticed her distress. He turned on the light “What happened? Are you okay?”He then noticed Aelin was shaking visibly. In an instant he was sitting on the bed at her side and he pulled her up to him. Aelin kept shaking and started crying. “Let me out.” She started sobbing against his chest and Rowan’s heart broke. “Aelin, you are safe. It’s me. You are safe the girls are safe.” She shook her head and the shaking got worse and her breathing became laboured. “Let me out,” she screamed again, the panic thick in her voice. Yrene was in the room in an instant “I heard her scream.” Then she folded forward holding her bump. Rowan moved away and let Yrene work. “Aelin, I need you to try and breathe slowly for me.” She took a belt like device that was abandoned on her nightstand and tied it around Aelin’s waist. The monitor returned the heartbeat of the babies and it was not good. “Aelin, I need you to relax. It’s not good for the twins.” Rowan took a step forward and went to Aelin’s side. He pulled her head to his chest and held her close and started singing Every River to her and slowly she calmed down, her breathing returning to normal. For the babies it took a bit longer but once they were in the clear Yrene left them again. “I am sorry.” She blurted, her hands still shaking a bit. “No, mo chridhe, don’t apologise.” He grabbed her hand and kissed it. He had a feeling he would wake up with nightmares too for a while.

In the morning, while Aelin slept, Rowan had gone home, took a shower and grabbed a few more clothes for her and when he got back he found her in company of Malcolm. The two were laughing and the sound warmed his heart. “You should be resting,” was what he said as he entered the room. The bandages on her arms, the cuts and the bruises on her face and body made her look worse for wear. “He’s right,” said Malcolm standing “And I have to go back to work.” He kissed Aelin on the cheek and disappeared through the door. Aelin wanted to protest but she realised she had no energy. “I brought you clean clothes,” he put the bag on the floor and took out a clean t-shirt. Aelin smiled at him and he helped her remove the t-shirt she had on and replaced with a clean one. “It smells like you.” “Good,” he added kissing her forehead “How are you feeling?” “Tired, my head hurts and my so does my body and the food sucks.” She commented “As I doctor I never bothered but now that I am a patient I can see that food really is bad.” “Do you want me to get you something?” He sat on the bed beside her. “Yes please. A slice of chocolate cake from your aunt would be amazing to cheer me up.” Then she patted her bump “the girls want it.” “Using our daughters to satisfy your sugar needs is not very motherly.” “Rowan Whitethorn, I’ll sell you to the highest bidder for a chocolate cake.” “I love you,” he told her while pressing a gentle kiss on her lips.

When he got back to the room he found her talking to their daughters. “I bring chocolate.” “Come here you.” She extended her arms greedily. “I am starting to think you love chocolate cake more than me.” He joked. It felt good to to it again after the horror that his life has been in the past few days. “Of course, Buzzard. You have an aunt who provides amazing chocolate delicacies. Do you really think I fell for you for your charming personality?” He scoffed and left the room with the bag carrying the cake still in his hands. “Rowan.” She shouted “I am recovering, don’t you have a bit of compassion for a poor lady stuck in bed?” He popped his head in the room “Lady? I don’t see any lady in here.” And he disappeared again and Aelin groaned in frustration. As soon as she could she would get her revenge. Rowan came back a moment later and sat down on the chair in front of her bed. Showed her a fork and opened the cake container and with provocation took a bite of the cake and that was it for him “How can you eat something so sweet?” He said while flinching in disgust. Aelin’s stare was murderous. “Fine, you can have it.” He passed her the cake “You are going to be sick.” “I am not a newbie.” She started eating and felt her mood improve immediately. “Did Yrene spoke to you?” Aelin pretended not to hear him. “Aelin?” He tried to take the cake away from her but she protested. “Did you talk to Yrene?” “Do you want to know if she told me I am on bed rest until the twins arrive? Yes, she did. And Malcolm piled on as well.” “Good.” “And can I hope you will listen to them?” “I have to. Yrene is really preoccupied about placental abruption. She says that in the spot near where the bump took the hit there are warning signs appearing. She also talked about a scheduled delivery at 36 weeks. If no issues arise.” He saw fear in her eyes. Hopefully she would finally slow down “there is so much going on though. The house move is in two weeks and I won’t be able to help or do anything.” He sat on the bed “we have a lot already packed and Aedion and Lysandra have offered to help. You just heal and get better and look after Freyja and Morrigan and leave the house move to me, please.” He caressed her face “You should sleep a bit more, you don’t look well.” Aelin nodded and lay down in bed and Rowan took his seat back on the chair. “Will you stay here with me?” He gave her a kiss “Of course.” “I am sorry….” He lowered his head. “Why?” He could not look at her “The other morning, what I said. I was just so angry.” Aelin leaned forward and ran a hand through his silvery hair “Ro, I said horrible things too. We are both at fault. We both have bad tempers and no filters. And I regret very single word I said.” She leaned back against the pillow. She was exhausted but they needed closure on that fight “You were just trying to look after me. And you were right. I was not well I should have stayed at home. But I am stubborn and well… we know how it ended.” He finally looked at her and he felt his eyes get wet again “I thought…” a deep breath “While you were still in surgery I kept thinking that the last words I told you were out of a fight. I let you go without telling you I love you or a kiss. I almost went crazy with grief.” He took another deep breath “I love you. I love you. I love you.” He repeated almost to make up for all the times he did not have time to say it. “I want to be worthy of you. Of our daughters.” He confessed lowering his head in apology. “Rowan, mo chridhe, you are worthy.” Her fingers ran under his chin and lifted his head to look at her “You are my wonderful man.” Aelin extended her arms “Come here.” Rowan stood and sat beside her in bed and buried himself in her embrace and with his head in the crook of her neck he breathed in her scent “I know you don’t want to control my life.” Her hand brushed his back “I can’t believe that for a moment I compared you to Chaol.” She kissed her head and his arms tightened around her and as he leaned closer he felt a kick against his abdomen and a chuckle left him. “Our daughters are trying to put their two pence worth.” Aelin smiled against his head and continued “Ro, I know a relationship where a fight ends up in a contest to see who can be more hurtful and neither actually regrets the words. That is not us.” She brushed his long hair “we bicker and sometimes we fight as well, but never with the intent of hurting the other. And if I am nasty to you I regret it immediately and I know you do too.” Rowan looked up at her and kissed her deeply and Aelin leaned in into the kiss and when they pulled apart they were both breathless. “Plus, I need to keep being in your good books. You bring me cake.” Aelin laughed and Rowan kissed her again “I am happy to bring you cake forever.” “We should put it in the wedding vows.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand “We will, but for now rest.” Aelin nodded and ten minutes later she was fast asleep.

It was ten days later when Yrene decided to finally discharge Aelin and Rowan was in full fuss mode. “I got all the papers. We are ready to go.” He said as he brought the wheelchair in the room. He helped Aelin to get in it and then grabbed her bags with the clothes. Aelin said goodbye to the nurses and they finally left the hospital. The fresh June air hit her and after almost two weeks inside a hospital bedroom she welcomed the smell of summer. When they got to the car he noticed Aelin tensed. “Will you be okay?” “Is not that I have any other options. Plus, you are a good driver. I will be fine.” He helped her in the car and Aelin closed her eyes and pretended she was somewhere else. They were half way home when Aelin shouted at Rowan “Stop the car.” Slowly he found a safe spot to pull over and turned to her. In her face he saw utter panic. “Ae, I am going as slowly as legally possible, but we have to get home.” “I know,” she breathed, as the tried to stop herself from being sick “Give me five minutes.” He lowered the windows and let the fresh air fill the car. Then he got out of the car and went to her side and opened the door. He took her hand and pulled her out of the seat and in front of the car and off the road. He hugged, letting her lean completely on him. “What are you doing?” “Distracting you.” He kissed her. She snuggled against his chest and inhaled his pine scent “it’s working.” “Good.” “Kiss me again.” And he did that and felt Aelin relax in his arms “I think we can go home now.” Rowan nodded and helped her go back to her seat. Once inside Aelin started playing with the mp3 player “I think we need a good soundtrack for the last part of the journey,” and she blasted Peat and Diesel “and that’s the way we do it in the Western Isles.” She started singing. Rowan laughed and sang with her. Music had helped her not think about her fear and they made it back home without any further episodes. Once they got in the house Aelin was not prepared for the amount of boxes lying around. “You have been busy I see. When did you do this?” “While I was at home.” “So instead of relaxing you came home and packed?” Rowan nodded. “The bookcases looks sad without books.” “I know, but they are all packed now. That was the worst part. I donated a lot to a charity shop.” She glared at him. “Just my books. I haven’t touched yours. I actually had books that I did not care keeping and it helped. Just a little.” “Once we are in the new house I’ll do the same. I am positive that there are books I don’t want to keep.” Then she stood from the sofa where she had collapsed seated. “I need a shower. A real shower. I feel gross.” “Go,” he said “Are you hungry?” Aelin nodded eagerly. “Good, I’ll make lunch.” She turned to him and kissed his lips “you are the man of my dreams.” Rowan laughed and walked away to the kitchen. When she got to the kitchen half an hour later she noticed Rowan all busy cooking. “Nice shower?” “You have no idea.” She tried to take a seat at the high chairs at the kitchen aisle but failed. “Go to the living room and sit on the sofa, we are eating there.” “Thank you. I hate these things. Why can’t you have normal chair like everyone?” He kissed her “Because I have a kitchen island and a normal chair will not do. When I went for a fancy kitchen I had not taken into account that one day I’d have a pregnant woman in the house.” “Fine.” Aelin waddled all the way back to the living room and plopped exhausted on the sofa “You will need a forklift to remove me from here.” The sound of Rowan’s laugh echoed through the house. Not long after he arrived and placed the plates on the coffee table and passed one to Aelin. She placed it on her belly and smiled at him “my bump is the perfect tray.” Rowan scoffed and went back to his lunch “I was thinking something…” “That’s dangerous.” “Hear me out.” “Go on.” Said Aelin taking another bite of the amazing stir fry he had made. “I was thinking that once we are in the new house we could invite your mother to stay with us for a while.” He stopped with a finger as soon as he noticed she was poised to fight him “I need to be at the bookstore. But I don’t like the idea of leaving you at home alone. I can take the odd day off but there is a lot I have to do and I can’t dump everything on Lys. If you mother is here she could help. And when the twins come… she could help us a bit more. I have read all those books on parenting, but reading and doing it’s not the same and I don’t want to mess up, So…” “I think it’s a great idea.” Aelin admitted looking at him “Mum has already offered to help and she’d be happy to come here.” “You are not mad.” “Why would I? I agree. You need to go back to work. I am the one stuck at home. And mom will be able to help with the twins.” “Okay. Good.” And he smiled relived. When Aelin eventually fell asleep on the sofa later on he placed a blanket on her and lifted her feet on the sofa so that she would be in a comfortable position. He stroked her hair and the her bump “You three rest.” And in silence he went back packing.

TAG:

@rowaelinismyotp

[riisinaakka-draws]

part 2/6

2nd part of my old Black Sails scraps and doodles from 2016–2021. Not in any particular order.

This time the drawings are short comics that were abandoned for a reason or another, mostly because I lost the interest or felt like there was too much to redraw compared to the satisfaction of finishing something else more interesting. There’s also some talk about rigid mindset and how overthinking can lead to stagnation.

Contains early silverflint moments, specks of dust, rackham's glasses are found, jealous-Billy spying, desk-Flint gets caught, "squint-squint", a quiet moment and its bird dilemma etc.

And please do not steal and repost elsewhere. But if you do get inspired, feel free to make your own interpretations!

Long-ish post under the cut!

“What are you thinking about?”

“Specks of dust.”

“Liar.”

The idea was to show how much they and their relationship had changed. This was around 2016 when the season 3 began and I was still re-learning to draw with a tablet. Another art from the same time period (and idea) is this art: The Dynamic Duet. 

And for some reason I was really stuck up thinking that I’d have to first do the sketch, then the clean line art, then planes underneath, then shadows etc. and I have always struggled with that kind of approach! Mainly because I hate doing clean line work, lol. And I was a fool for trying to start with a white canvas! It’s so much harder to find values and plan things, or at least in my opinion..

“Rackham’s glasses are found”

To celebrate their new pirate alliance, they share the four lenses of Rackham’s sunglasses as they were also found at the time (because I wanted it to resurface and they could be made into jewellery you know...). This was right after the episode where Anne fights and hurts her hands (here wearing protecting mittens from Max even though she’s not trusted at the moment). Uh, this doesn’t spark joy interest me much and it’s quite stiff and would recuire a lot of redrawing faces, so - discarded!  

I somewhat like the idea still (them having something to share, although it’s on Jack’s detriment). I tried to find a stylished comical easier doodlier? way to draw them and draw clean lines etc, but it just wasn’t for me. Also here too, the background is blank and too bright. Later I started to think things as scenes and draw everything at the same time instead of adding the bg later or trying to show everything (and everyone) at the same time.

Here’s also Billy in the same story:

He’s spying on them and since it’s so bright he’s wearing his diy “sunglasses” and being envious to the others. *cough* uhhh...Idk? Also people were shipping Ben Gunn (and cheese) with Billy, so that bled into this too... Charles’ spirit is riding the “big white bird” that was mentioned in Teach’ story and in this case it’s a pelican.

As you can see, I also wasn’t using the brushes that I use nowadays. A hard (or soft) round brushes with no change in opacity just aren’t for me. For example, in traditional art, I struggle with markers and copics, but really enjoy charcoals and watercolours. I prefer ragged edges, layering and thus blending things into each other (and leaving the viewer to fill in the gaps) instead of having stark or definite things. I also struggle with vector drawings, although I have decided to finally start learning to use them...somedayyyy.

Also, I wasn’t paying attention to anatomy, like, at all LMAO. I was just so happy to be able to put something on the canvas.

This is one of my first ink drawings, but I cannot find the original anymore. Again, I like the idea, but not how things look art-wise. And I was so adamant, that I have to get everything right in the traditional drawing and not fix anything later on on photoshop because then it would be cheating. And thus, I was never able to move on or finish this properly the way I liked it (idiot).

BUT! It was a good practise to just draw and test things on paper and gain confidense on drawing things in overall (as I was still getting back into art). To get over the fear of blank paper you know, and try to find my style whatever it would start to form into.

Oh, yeah, Desk Flint.

Desk Flint was a thing for a while (still is, lol). Another drawing from that time is this Slingshot Pirate (2016). And Desk Flint keeps repeating in many later works too. The point is mainly “Flint sitting behind his desk and people interrupt him and I don’t have to draw him fully”

Well, anyway... moving on.

Here’s a plan that has been stuck for years. It’s name is “Squint-squint.” Left is the sketch (with another sketch underneath because the expressions were clearer in the old one). On the right is the continued piece with colour scheme but I cropped the eyes panel and faces out (it was so ugly for some reason) but if I ever continue/finish this, it will be redrawn there in the middle.)

Left. “On that moment their eyes were literally open(ed).”

Right. “After squinting on the shore for days, they had actually forgotten how pretty the other idiot’s eyes were.”

I still like it, quite a lot, but my perfectionist ass only sees too much “boring” things to draw and get right, so it hasn’t been a priority for a long time and other works have kept me occupied and more interested in them.

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

“Quiet Moment.” 2018 (a wordless comic happening after the events of Charles Town)

I’m going to explain after these pictures, but see how big the difference is when you start to look at references and plan things together (the space, “camera” movement, background etc). I also started to colour with coarser brushes:

I drew this around early 2018. A lot of improvement! Still quite a lot of negative space (empty white backgrounds), but it fits this work. A few things tell where we are (the ship’s cabin and the balcony). Changing distances and how things are cropped/framed make things more moving and focused (and less to draw, lol). Colours and brush strokes are softer, more layered and so on.

But guess why it’s still a wip!

I couldn’t decide what bird is flying over there.

Yeap! At first it was an albatross (doesn’t go to Bahamas?). Then a seagull (but which seagull? there’s so many subspecies! Is the ship at sea or at the harbour? what birds are there on the open water/ close to the shore?? oh noo...) So, yeah, wayyyy too much over-thinking.

At some point I ended up with white-tailed-tropic-bird which was a plus! because it sounds like the bosun’s whistle, but at that point I was so tangled and frustrated and still had so much to finish with this that I left it be. Also Flint’s face looks different in every frame so I would’ve had to change some parts, lol. And then I forgot it for a couple of years! And then I had learned to draw a bit differently and again saw too much things to do, so it’s quite hard to take on this again, especially when there are so many other interesting wips waiting...

But I still really like the feeling of it! And the colour scheme. So I might just limit the things I’m allowed to fix and then post it as it own someday. I mean, it’s 90% finished, but the last reach just feels like miles.

And that’s what usually happens with my wips. They reach a certain point and it suddenly becomes really hard to finish or get back into.

But every time I learn things and then use the information in another work! :D

Final note for this post (altough this has been said hundreds of times): use references and look how things go and try to see the structure and form beneath things. And think where it is happening and how the light and surroundings affects the characters and/or spaces. And maybe think what you’re trying to convey with the art, what idea? what emotions? what purpose? or like, what are you trying to learn with the piece? and so on...

Thanks for checking this out, I hope you had fun <3

[chromatic-lamina]

rascal: law and robin brotp fanfic

I have a lot of brotp Law and Robin in my fics, and one fic with them as a couple. I like the brotp interaction. Two cynical and supportive friends, but the writing is mostly in my multi-chaptered works, which are dark or canon divergent or both.

Anyway, I’m going to include an excerpt below. Robin’s painting Law’s toenails while they both chat about current and past loss and love. It’s from a three-chapter work that I don’t think will make much sense without knowing the rest of the world that it comes from, but hopefully this interchange can be followed and strikes a chord with some. I know the LawBin fans are thirsty. Post canon with canon-verse history and elements. This is an older piece.

🐞

Law sat back in the garden recliner in Robin’s backyard, a book over his face. He wasn’t in danger of burning easily in the late morning sun, but had no intention of making himself prey to melanoma. Robin perched on the edge of the recliner, holding one of Law's feet.

He'd spent the night at Robin’s in anticipation of the tea-towel convention they'd be visiting today. She’d spent the night trying to share his enthusiasm as he sat, tattooed arms spread on the table, poring over catalogues. His inked hands pointed out designs featuring disproportionate tulip-ensconced windmills, and disembodied body parts that had less to do with Dali and more to do with morticians.

She assumed all the creators were outliers. Commemorative tea-towels hadn’t quite taken the art world by storm yet, but they did remind her a little of Ryuunosuke, the very cute but badly drawn dragon that had struggled and succeeded in taking them all to the top of Zou. 

That was last night though and now, soon, they’d head off to gossip and gander with the convention organisers, the Dishcloth Dames, once she’d made Law pretty.

“These are so cute.” She pulled at the few black gnarly hairs curled on Law’s left big toe.

“Freak,” Law mumbled, moving his foot.

Robin laughed, righted Law’s foot and wiped the brush over the nail of his big toe.

“When did you last clip these?”

“What’s it to you? You’re the one who wanted to dress me up.”

“You’re the one who’s letting me. You’ve got old man’s feet, by the way.”

Law arched his bridge and Robin slapped it, held it down.

“The sexy surgeon’s pedes don’t please? You said they were cute?”

She studied languages. She had no difficulty with Law’s fancy Latin terms.

“Mmm. I wouldn’t go that far. But I guess you got those tattoos to distract from your tootsies.”

The ink on the bridges of his feet matched that on the back of his hands. She felt the arc of the bone against her palm as she admired the designs, although it was one of the more simple ones to adorn Law and, historically, definitely not his favourite.

“And yet, there you are, making them all presentable and shit.”

“Does Marco like them?”

“He’s got his kinks.”

“And . . . ?”

“They remain in the bedroom,” Law grinned. At times he thought the Phoenix liked every part of his body, though they’d never had a deep conversation about those particular extremities.

“Ah, you’re no fun.”

“I’ve been told.”

Law felt her move to the next digit.

“What colour are you painting them?”

“Tch.”

As if it could be anything but black.

“Well, you sent Chopper out for the colour once,” Law said to her silence.

Bubble gum. Robin snickered, remembering. Law peered at her from under his book, her shoulders rose and fell with laughter. He liked that violet t-shirt.

.

Law seemed so disinterested, and therefore, Robin guessed very trusting, when she or anyone else painted his nails. He usually paid little attention to the colour, or even the action. It was something that pleased those who found it amusing to decorate him. Just so long as they let him read whatever he was researching, he indulged them. A small compromise for a larger gain.

No way in hell could someone he didn’t trust do this, though it had been done. Robin knew that trust was hard won. Law told himself that he let them all think he was vain this way so he could go for their jugulars some other time. Plus, he liked giving the Dishcloth Dames even more to gossip about.

.

Thinking of Chopper, Law laughed as if the sound was rationed—a clipped exhalation. The tanuki reminded him of his navigator.

“Bepo. Lord, Bepo got it into his head once to paint me. Maybe he wanted to practice so he could surprise some lucky Mink in the future, and who better to be his chump than his ferocious captain?”

Robin turned to him for a second, curious, before proceeding to the next toe. Her extra hands manipulated Law’s foot for the best access. Law’s own hand kept the book in place. She liked that silver band he sometimes wore on his wrist—a solid link—a flash of sky reflected in the metal.

“His fine motor skills aren’t the best. You’ve seen his maps. Shachi and Penguin thought I’d amputated my own toes without the benefit of a Room.” A rumble lifted Law's chest and then dissolved. He smiled easily. The book didn’t cover all of his face.  “He even dabbed a paw print on my heel.”

“He chose red?” She loved that flash of teeth.

“Mmm. So. I guess it’s black?”

Robin finished the last toenail and told him not to move his feet about for a while. She then drew up the recliner next to his, lay on it, leant on her side and looked across. Law could be asleep for all she knew.

.

“Oi, talk to me endling. Of course it’s black.”

Law’s lips twitched. Only Robin could get away with that.

“So needy, terminarch. How am I meant to do that without moving?”

They may as well have just called each other Flevance and Ohara. They did at times, but neither could be feeling too off-colour when they did, or the devil fruits would come out to play. The town names as nomenclatures were off-limits to anyone else.

“Take that book off your face at least. I know you can’t read it like that.”

“Your makeup bag’s not nearby, is it?”

“Just the toes today, Dr. Death.”

Good. He was only happy for modification to go so far. He sighed, grumbled, but lifted a hand and picked the book up by its spine, and rested it—still spreadeagled—on his chest. He blinked into the sun, then tipped his head her way. Not the most comfortable of positions.

“Can I sit up?”

The grey of Law’s irises were sometimes shot through with gold. She wondered what his parents had looked like. “Give it a few.”

He turned his face skyward again, his arm over his shut lids.

.

“How about Luffy?” she asked. Luffy was before island living, before Law’s casual feet days. If they’d ever played around with nail polish, she’d never seen the results.

Law groaned.

“He approached my nails as if they were made of seastone, his hand was that shaky.” The softness in tone betrayed the annoyance in his words. “For some reason he thought a pearly pink would suit? Maybe it reminded him of marbled steak or something? Of course, he had absolutely no patience.”

Law scratched at his sideburns with his spare hand.

“He slapped it on, forgot to cap the varnish, jumped on me, bringing the sheet with him, or whatever we were lying on, wherever we were. It smeared over everything; our clothes, or more accurately, my clothes. You know, Luffy somehow always escapes his own chaos—and then he declared the whole thing stupid and boring, as if I’d dreamt up the activity and forced it on him.” Incredulity hissed through the back of his teeth.

He tapped his earrings. "Somehow the polish even managed to get on these. Nami-ya probably talked him into the whole thing for a bet."

“And you let him?”

Law didn’t need to look at Robin to know her expression; amused and bemused.

“You choose your battles.”

“Mmm.” Her captain could be quite domineering. She wondered if they were the same earrings. It wouldn’t surprise her. She’d kept the same jewellery over the years, but added to her collection with each pirates' haul. The ones that Luffy didn’t somehow swap for food.

.

She sat up and twisted her neck. They needed to get going soon.

“Phoenix?”

“Still trying to unearth his kinks?”

“Now that you bring it up.”

Law’s smile, the one Robin and only a few others ever saw, made her lips curve.

“I paint for him at times. I mean, my own nails. He’s got a lapis grounding stone, and his flames are blue when he’s in Zoan form. I try to match those shades—a balance between the two. Other times, I paint for myself.”

“Does he notice?” Marco had a grounding stone? But then again, they all had their talismans.

“Sometimes.”

“You don’t tell him?”

“Not always. Other things are more pressing.”

“Does he know you’re a freak?”

“I thought that was you.”

.

Law paused for a second. He tipped his face Robin's way again, his hand still protecting his eyes. How come she got to sit up?

“The dogs have never liked it. And you know, all that waste. It’s not really hygienic in the clinic either.”

“You operate with your toes?”

Law laughed. “When I do my hands . . . It’s not hygienic.”

.

Robin cast a glance at her back yard – the trees that offered privacy from the neighbours, the small pond. She enjoyed life in the New World now Luffy was pirate king.

“The dogs don’t like it, but Bepo can handle it?”

“Well, he’s a freak, too. Minks wear makeup, right?”

Robin nodded. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

“Makeup?”

“Being a freak.”

“To the contrary, some of my best friends are freaks. You can’t all be Chopper.”

Law calls Robin a freak and gets away with it. heh. Perhaps. Anyway, I’ll put the link to the AO3 story as the source (just edited it in. This post has been up for long enough).  It’s actually about dogs and links back to another story, and is kinda sad, and features Robin, but is about Law and Marco, and there’s plenty of humour too. If you want to read it, be my guest. It’s an older one, written a few years ago. T-rated.

[loudsuitlover]

Doctor Harry XXIV. Un Suspiro Acompasado

A/N: Guys I’m back! I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for the patience and the kind message, you guys are amazing and I feel lucky you read me x 

BLUE’S POV

My eyes are left adrift in front of the mirror. I’m combing my hair and my makeup is done and I’m wearing the red lipstick Marie got me for Christmas but I’m hardly seeing anything beyond the memories of better times that blurry my vision. It’s only been four days since I know nothing from Harry but they’ve felt like ages.

I hate myself for missing him so bad but the only thing I need to stop myself from crawling back to him is thinking about his indifference. I don’t understand why he was so insisting and desperate for me to hear him out during Christmas and just forgot all about me right after I finally did.

I’d love to say things have gone back to normal, that everything is right back on its place as if it had never happened since he’s not following me around and messing everything up but that just wouldn’t be true. It’s like I lost something that has changed me forever and I just don’t know where to look for it now.

When I’ve brushed all of my hair twice, I open the bathroom door and find Coco going through my earrings. She’s wearing a golden silk dress that makes her look like the human form of a flute of champagne but she gives me a panic look.

“I don’t know what earrings to wear.”

I roll my eyes and try to help her. I suck at choosing jewellery which is why I always wear the same earrings and the same necklace my Mum got me when I started studying Medicine but I stand there in the role of emotional support.

I can see my profile on the full body length mirror in the door of my wardrobe. I’m wearing a black sequin tight dress with long sleeves but backless. There’s a single button that rests over my seventh vertebra where the fabric that covers both my shoulders joins but then there’s no more sequins and no more fabric at all until the dress hugs the lowest part of my back, right where my underwear begins.

It's New Years Eve and everyone’s ready for the new year to begin even though I don’t believe that anybody wants this year to end more than I do.

“¡Niñas!” (Girls!) My mum calls for us from downstairs. “¿Estáis listas?” (Are you ready?”

“¡Sí!” Coco yells uncouthly and I give her a look but she just chuckles. “Me encanta ser ordinaria cuando llevo ropa cara.” (I love to act vulgar when I wear expensive clothes). She giggles. “You should try it, it’s funny.”

I chuckle along with her as we both make our way downstairs. My mum looks like one of our friends with that black dress she’s wearing. Her long black hair is down and naturally wavy and Coco did a very nice job with her makeup; smokey eyes and nude lipstick.

“Estás guapísima, mamá.” (You look gorgeous, mum.)

“¿Qué dices? Tú sí que estás guapísima. Las dos lo estáis.” (What are you talking about? You look gorgeous. You both do.)

Mum’s driving us to our party before she leaves for hers and sitting in the back of the car, I can see how much of a resemblance there is between my mum and my sister. It’s almost scary for my mum looks like a future Coco and I think I can’t wait for Coco to be 57 years old to find out if they’re really alike.

I get excited on the way to the club. I’ve decided I’m gonna have a good time and not think about Harry. I’ve had enough of that and what has to be will be but there won’t be any rushing of things on my part and I’m guessing on his either.

I’m excited to see Olivia. She came back from France in the morning and JJ and Marie are also gonna be there. Marie’s bringing Adam but nobody said anything about Harry and I didn’t ask either and Olivia’s got herself a date with Mario. Apparently, they’ve been talking ever since Jack did the ass move of the year and Ollie seemed pretty excited on the phone earlier.

Coco and I make our way inside the majestic hotel the party is taking place and give our coats to the cloakroom girl. My gorgeous looking sister holds my hand and guides me across the hall and towards the second room where soft music plays around fairy lights. I spot our group standing around a tall table.

I hug my friends. They all look ridiculously gorgeous. Olivia wears her blond hair perfectly straightened and falling on her chest and back over the little precious stones that adorn her silver cocktail dress and Marie wears her signature bun with a little black dress with a see-through neckline that fits her perfectly; sexy but safe, so to say.

Turning around, I see Jason pretending to be gladly surprised by my looks, and I chuckle and shake my head.

“Looking good in that white suit jacket, JJ.”

He smiled.

“I have to stand out, you know? I’m single now.”

“Damn right you are.” I grab a champagne flute from the waiter that walks right behind me. “And I’ll drink to that.”

He laughs.

“Now seriously, you look like you just came out of The Great Gatsby.”

“Except there’s no Leonardo Dicaprio.”

“Except that.” Jason smiles.

“How are you?” Olivia’s hand rests on my lower back and I give her a smile.

“I’m good, thank you.” I frown but smile. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, you know.” She shrugs and gives Marie a SOS look. “I was wondering how you were holding up after… The breakup.”

“What breakup now?” I look at Marie.

Her lips part in a small oh and her eyes open wide like a deer caught in headlights.

“You know, Adam and I talk.” She shrugs.

“You mean Adam and you mind everybody’s business.”

“Harry told him you guys were not seeing each other anymore.” She frowns.

I feel a punch on the pit of my belly.

“Yeah, that’s right. We… We aren’t.” But I pretend I am long past it even though they just confirmed what I thought was happening.  

“And you’re… Just okay with that?” Ollie frowns.

“Yes!” Everyone’s frowning. “What, guys? Why are you making such a big deal? It’s fine. I’m just worried I won’t find sex like that in a while.” I fake giggle.

“Was it really that good?” Jason intervenes for the first time in what feels like a very long, very embarrassing interrogation.

“I mean… Never mind.” I chuckle.

“No, it does mind. Do share.”

“It was just the way he… Like kind of worshipped my body, you know, but like all of it.” I shrug. “I felt…”

“Loved.”

“Desired.” I correct Marie but she purses her lips to hide her smile and raises her eyebrows.

I shake my head and try to derail the conversation.

“What about you, Ollie? How are you?”

Ever since Jack said those things about her, she’s been struggling not to bump into someone who already knew. It’s strange how those ridiculous things run like gunpowder but it’s not new that a lot of girls didn’t like Olivia already and I guess this kind of was the perfect way to finally humiliate her.

“I’m fine.”

She smiles for as if on cue, Mario appears with two drinks on his hands and gives one to her. The way her body melted and made room for him surprises me. My God, she’s smitten and she’s Olivia and this is so cute to behold.

“Oh, hello, Indie. Happy New Year. If I had known you were here I would have gotten you a drink. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!” I hug him. “Happy New Year to you too.”

He stands next to Olivia but turns in conversation with Jason and I notice Marie is nowhere to be found. Coco and Guido seem to be in their own bubble but I’ll have to go say hi when they don’t look so cosy.

“Where did Marie go?”

“She’s probably with Adam.” She shrugs. “I’m thinking about broadening my horizons.” She goes back to my first question it seems.

“Broadening your horizons? What does that mean?”

“I don’t know… These weeks in France have been wonderful. I was thinking maybe transferring to Paris or something.”

“But like- forever?” I panic.

She shrugs, holding back a little smirk.

“But you can’t leave! I mean, wouldn’t you miss us? And what about Mario? You finally start a relationship and now you’re leaving him?”

“Mario would have to understand. If he didn’t, that would be a total deal breaker. Plus, we’re not even in a relationship or at least not in the traditional kind of relationship. We’re both free humans who-”

“You’re not in an open relationship with Mario, are you?”

I’m not being judgemental. I have no problems at all with open relationships it’s just Mario doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy fitted for that. I mean he told me himself he falls very quickly and I could see how heartbroken he was about Olivia’s rejection so I’m just afraid he’s told her yes because he would take whatever it is she’s willing to give.

My friend nods proudly and I face palm.

“Oh God, Ollie, you’re gonna hurt him.”

“What? Why? Not at all!”

“Wasn’t it your idea then?”

“No, it was, but this is what’s best for us. I’m not in my best moment” her blue eyes beg for my understanding and support- she’ll always have the second “and this will be good for him too. He’s a little too traditional if we’re being fully honest here-”

I disconnect but I let her talk because I already understood. She’s scared because she really likes him and this is just her way of trying to run away from it. Thinking about going to France, having an open relationship… God, she just really doesn’t want to let herself fall in love.

“Why are you smiling like that?” She frowns.

I chuckle and give her a knowing look and she just squints pretending she can’t read my mind at this point.

“You think you’re some sort of guru, alright, I get it.”

I throw my head back and laugh but my laughing cuts short as soon as Harry appears in my visual opening. He wears a black suit with a white shirt and a fucking black bow tie that really makes him look like The Great Gatsby I used to picture in my mind when I read the book.

The air gets kicked out of my lungs with every step he takes because he looks so dreamy and I know everyone has noticed but for the rest of people in this room he’s just a handsome man. He’s so much more to me.

From the corner of my eyes, I watch him greet everybody. He takes a little extra time talking to Coco and that makes me nervous. I don’t want to be a narcissistic asshole but I can’t help considering they might be talking about me. I yearn for hearing him say my name and see how his lips hug the u in Blue when everybody else calls me Indie.

Before I can process what’s happening, he’s stopped in front of me and his green eyes are setting mine on flames. My belly flips and he hasn’t even touched me but it’s like he’s putting all these memories inside my head with that stare and in my mind, all these images are playing… Us in the shower, him making breakfast, us watching a movie, him driving me home…

He doesn’t say anything but I know he likes my dress by the way he’s smirking. He leans in and I feel his warm hand against my bare back as he presses a kiss on my cheek.

“Why are you always so cold?” He frowns.

“I’m an ice floe, don’t you remember?”

“As lovely as usual.” He smirks. “Some things never change.”

“Wait, we’re talking to one another, right? What we’re not doing is seeing each other or so does Marie said because apparently Adam told her you told him. That’s three people, Harry, it takes three people for me to know something I should have known from you.”

“How is that my fault?”

“Well-”

“You’re the one who stopped talking to me.”

I frown. That’s not even true but before I can tell him, Olivia’s hand rests on my shoulder and she almost yells.

“You won’t believe what just happened! Oh, hi, Harry, nice to see you, nice bow tie.” She gives him a smile that lasts a second and then turns back to me. “I was at the bar and this ridiculously hot guy was talking to his friend about you!”

“About me?” I frown. “What do you mean?”

“He literally told his friend ´Indigo Anderson is here, I just saw her´”

“And that’s it?” I laugh.

“He was very handsome.” Her blue eyes widen and I laugh again.

Harry’s still standing there but his jaw is clenched and his shoulders have tensed up. I don’t understand him. He has decided to break up with me, even though there was nothing to break, and hasn’t even had the decency to tell me about it and now he seems not to like that this very handsome stranger knows I’m here? Well, he should have thought twice.

“That’s him!” Ollie says, pointing at the middle of the room with her big grey eyes. “That’s the one.”

Eric Buchanan’s eyes meet mine. I give him a teasing smile and see the corner of his eyes crackle. It’s been a while since Harry doesn’t seem that happy to see me and instead he’s just standing there tensed like a wooden man and I’ve had enough of this so I just make my way towards Eric. He takes the clue and makes his way towards me too so we meet in the middle. Funny how I seem to be unable to do that with Harry.

“Fuck me if it isn’t Indigo Blue Anderson, the soul of every party.” He smiles.

“I’m pretty sure I should be offended but your sarcastic tone is really not sarcastic at all.” I smile back.

“That’s because I wasn’t being sarcastic, miss.” He smiles. “You know I was checking the photos the photographer took at my birthday the other day and he took some while you were honouring me with your dancing” I roll my eyes but he keeps on smiling “and I gotta say they’re pretty good shots.”

“Well your hip movement was kind of hypnotizing” I try mimic his crazy movements and make him blush but he laughs.

“Yeah, wasn’t really talking about that.”

“You’re too flattering, Eric.”

“You remember my name.” He smiles.

“You think I’m an idiot?”

“No” he laughs “I just think you’re way out of my league.”

“Still too flattering.”

He chuckles. I notice his eyes look somewhere behind me and then back at me for enough times to make me curious, so I raise my eyebrows questioningly.

“Trouble in paradise?”

I tilt my neck and spot Harry glaring at us from the spot where he pretends to be paying attention to Mario and Adam and I roll my eyes. I don’t even have to change the topic because one of Eric’s friends pulls from his shoulder and all but yells that they’re taking a group photo. His lips turn upside down as he points at his friend on his back but I dismiss him with a smile and a shake of my hand.

“I will however catch you later.”

“You seem so sure of it.” I joke.

Am I flirting? Oh my God, I think I’m flirting. What am I doing?

My throat is dry. I need a drink. I turn around and I can tell I’m frowning when Marie hands me a drink. I look down at it and realize it’s probably gin and tonic.

“Thanks.” I have a sip. Yeah, Bulldog and Mediterranean.

“Way to go, girl.” Ollie frowns impressed next to me.

“What?”

“That’s probably what you need.” Marie adds. “After all, the quickest way to get over one man is…”

“What? No! We were just talking.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what most people do when they flirt.”

“We weren’t flirting!”

Or at least they can’t know that, they didn’t hear us. Looking over at Eric, I realize he is indeed a very, very handsome man. He’s tall too and his body is just very manly and I think under any other circumstances, I would be attracted to him. I mean- am I attracted to him now? Why wouldn’t I be? He’s objectively very attractive. I don’t want to fall into that path. I don’t want not to be attracted to him because the thought of Harry is still clouding my judgement. Is it true? Am I never going to feel as alive as I did with him? I need to stop thinking these stupid things.

“Can we just stop talking about men?”

“Amen” Jason agrees as he joins us. “Let’s just celebrate that we are still together for the new year and that that is how things are going to be.”

“Amen” Ollie raises her glass and the four of us cling our glasses together for that. “And that we are repeating for the third year Marie’s beach house tradition.”

“Woho!”

“About that though” Marie bites her bottom lip.

“Oh, please don’t tell me you’re cancelling.”

“I’m not.” Marie stops Jason right there and he sighs bringing his hand to his chest. “It’s just… I know for the past three years it’s just been the four of us but I was thinking… Maybe this year… Adam could join?”

The three of us just stand there with our lips parted. We’re being unsupportive, I can tell that much; but it’s just… That weekend is always being just for the four of us. It’s The Golden Girls’ getaway and the thought of having a guy joining just… But it is her house.

“I know it might sound strange to you guys but” Marie leans closer to us so she can whisper the next part “Adam and I haven’t… Had sex yet. I think that weekend at the beach… You know with the fireplace, the marshmallows… It might be romantic and it might just be the time.”

“With all of us there?” I horrify. “I mean, he’s probably just nervous or even shy about it, do you think it’s going to help him to have the three of us around?”

“Wait, what if we postpone our weekend away?” Ollie suggests, pleasing no parties involved.  

“No!” Jason frowns. “Come on, this is the perfect weekend! After that we have practice and we can’t just get pissed for three days straight… Come on, Marie, I need this.”

“No, I don’t want to cancel or postpone it. I want you guys there.” She panics.

“What- like an orgy?” Ollie’s eyes open wide.

“No, you maniac!” Marie blushes. “But… Listen, this is getting to me, alright? It’s been very long since I don’t have sex and… I don’t know what to do and Adam’s got… You know… His things… And I might need urgent emotional support, emergency Golden Girls’ meeting in the kitchen, you know?”

Her puppy eyes always work. I bite my bottom lip and almost hear Jason’s wheels turning on his mind.

“I got it.” Jason says. “You know how it would probably be a little awkward for him to spend an entire weekend with his girlfriend’s crazy friends on his own, right?”

Marie nods with sad puppy eyes as if she also had thought about it but didn’t know what to do about that.

“But” J’s brows raise on his forehead “you know what would make it a lot easier for him?”

She shakes her head. I can’t believe we’re letting JJ be so dramatic. This is what he loves.

“Having his best friends around, just like you, and isn’t it such a good thing that his best friends happen to be Ollie’s guy and Harry?”

“I am not inviting Harry.” I interfere.

Jason’s eyes set on me while he gives me a long, hard, severe stare.

“Are you seriously telling me you’re not willing to put your stupid fight away for your best friend to bone his best friend who is also her boyfriend with erectile disfunction?”

Marie shushes him as the three of them give me all their attention.

“Well, fine, invite him. I won’t be going then.”

“What? No, dude!” Marie pleads. “I really need you there.”

“Oh, come on! I’ll pretend we’re fucking if you will” Jason shrugs “because I mean Mario is fun but he’s probably going to be cuddling Ollie 24/7 so it’d really just be you and me.”

“And Adam and me.” Marie raises her eyebrows.

“You two are gonna be boning.”

“Well maybe we don’t do anything.”

“What do you mean? Of course you will! He’s a guy, I bet he’s dying to bone you.”

“Can you just stop saying bone?” Marie scolds him. “He hasn’t… He hasn’t even touched me. And he hasn’t told me about… The… E.D. problem yet…”

“Wait, so then how do you know?” Ollie frowns.

“Harry told me.”

“What? I can’t believe him! Isn’t he supposed to be his best friend?”

“Hey, calm down! That’s why he told me. He was just worried about him… He’s actually a really good guy.”

I glare at her. I can’t believe after all the shit she’s giving me, she’s backing him now that he broke up with me.

“Why don’t you talk to him?” Ollie asks.

“To whom?”

“To Adam.”

“I don’t want to put Harry on the spot.”

“Since when do you care about Harry? What the fuck is this, Marie? You’ve been giving me shit about him since I met him and now that he finally broke my heart like you said he would he turns into an angel in your eyes?”

“What did you just say?”

My blood freezes on my veins at the sound of his deep voice stopping my every thought. My breath catches on my throat and I feel dizzy. My body works without processing and I somehow face him so I guess it must have turned. His green eyes are staring into mine and his brows are furrowed. Mario is a step ahead of him.

“Were you eavesdropping?” I accuse him.

“We were going to order a drink and I heard you say my name so I stopped. I thought you were talking to me.”

“And when you realize I wasn’t you eavesdropped.”

He stays silent but his eyes don’t leave mine. My friends have gone so now it’s just him and me face to face and I know there are lots of people around for after all this is a new year’s party but it doesn’t feel that way to me now.  

“What did you just say, Indie?”

My jaw clenches. If he thinks I’m about to humiliate myself in front of him and give him validation for his superior attitude he’s wrong. He decided to end things and didn’t even think it was important enough so as to give me notice so I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing it is that easy for him to hurt me.

“I said Marie’s been giving me shit about you since the beginning but I guess she was right after all.” I shrug. “You did use me and then-”

“Use you? How?”

My eyes hold his. He can’t be serious.

“You slept with me whenever you wanted-”

“I thought we both wanted it.” He frowns but I can see the horror on his eyes.

“I’m not saying you forced me, Harry. But the thing is you came and went whenever you needed a fuck and lied to me and then when things got a little complicated you just… Left” I shrug again “Like that, so easy, and you didn’t even tell me-”

His fingers wrapping around my forearm cut my words short as he walks towards the end of the hall. I keep frowning but I don’t say a thing. I wouldn’t know what to say. Instead, I let him guide us towards an empty dinner area where I’m guessing people celebrate happy moments for there’s also an empty stage and an empty bar next to it. Every piece of furniture is covered up with big white pieces of cloth and it feels like we’re standing in the middle of a ghost town.

He finally releases my arm and starts pacing back and forth in front of mine. I stare at him in silence for about a minute until I think this is too crazy even for me.

“What are you doing?”

“We need to talk.” He sets his hands on his hips so his suit jacket folds on his shoulders and his elbows and I can’t help my eyes as they travel don his upper body. God, he looks so good.

“I’m scared.”

“You are scared?” I let out a humourless chuckle.

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t understand?” Now that makes me laugh.

“Indie, I’m serious.”

The staidness of his voice makes me feel young. I swallow my witty remarks and try to hear him. I’ve been feeling like shit and I’ve been blaming him but maybe he’s got something to say too. I lick my lips and stare into his eyes, hoping he’d understand I’m here to listen now. I’m all done with this being mad for no particular reason and feeling like shit about it.

His green eyes burn mine as they look heavily into mine.

“You…” His index finger points at me. “You are so out of my league.”

I frown. What the hell is he talking about?

“This is crazy, you and me, its crazy.”

“I know.” I agree.

“When we talked in the car the other night… After what happened to you… You still listened to me and you fucking comforted me and when I looked at you, you just looked so small and vulnerable and fragile and I… I got scared.” He shrugs. “Because I thought if something were to happen to you, I would… I have been so selfish. I didn’t think how much you’d suffer with a low-life like me but you don’t deserve that, Blue.”

My brows meet and I find myself unarmed as every weapon I had ever held against this man just falls on my feet. I know this might sound like the same old story but I also know, even if he lied to me, that this is Harry speaking his mind out. He’s done that with me before, countless of times, as if he didn’t have a filter and he’s doing it now and it breaks my heart to know this is what’s going on in his mind.

“I don’t want to hurt you, okay? That’s like- the last thing I want but… These last few days I’ve been at Bellamond and I’ve tried so hard not to think about any of this, not to think about you, not to think about how you make me feel but it’s just useless because I always have to come back and you’re everywhere. You’re in my room, you’re in my kitchen, you’re in my shower, you’re just… I can’t stop thinking about you.”

I’ve thought in my mind countless of times what I would say to him after our talk in his car but those words are just leaving my mind now like birds leave their nests on the winter. I just stare at him. I feel like I’ve never had a tighter knot on my throat.

“We haven’t talked since that night where I told you everything and I thought you were relieved that whatever it is that we have was over because I wasn’t chasing you around anymore and you didn’t contact me either so I thought… But… You’re hurt, aren’t you?”

I can’t help it, the blushing takes over my face and I purse my lips so they stop shaking. Harry gets blurry. No, please, I don’t want to cry.

“Did you miss me?”

I decide biting my bottom lip might make it stop trembling and I nod my head but I don’t look into his eyes.

“The only reason I left was not to hurt you, Blue.” He confesses in a low voice.

I look up at him until our eyes meet. I search for the lie, for the part of him that’s only saying what he thinks I want to hear but I don’t find it. He’s telling the truth, he doesn’t lie; and yet, it doesn’t feel soothing.

I never thought the reason things were going to end between us was because he cared too much. I’ve been thinking about it for days and all these implausible reasons came running to my mind but not once did I think he was trying to protect me. I’ve doubted myself, I’ve doubted him, I’ve doubted this thing we had going on and I’ve thought he’s only seen me like a doll, like a sexual toy, or like something on his shelf he could pick up whenever he was bored and I feel terrible now. He’s been as kind with me as he is with anyone else.

I still don’t know what to say.

“But now, after hearing you say that” he continues “I feel like I can tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“I want to do this.”

My heartbeat speeds up to the point where I think he can hear it. My hands get sticky, I feel sweat gathering on the back of my neck.

“What do you mean?”

“I want this.” He declares. “I want to overthink every little thing and I want to invite you to my sister’s birthday party and I want to” he smirks timidly and even though I don’t know what he’s about to say, the corner of my lips curl up too “rely on those closest to me and share their burdens, as they share mine.”

I full on grin when I hear him recite to me the words I apparently recited to him on my sleep what feels like ages ago and he giggles, surely proud that it worked. I can’t believe we’re doing this but I know I’m going to say yes.

I guess this is the way adult men ask adult women to be their girlfriend.

I shut my eyes and squeeze them tight. When I open them, he’s looking at me as if I was about to tell him something awful.

“It’s just about the weed, I know I’m probably making such a big deal out of it but-”

“I told you I won’t smoke again and I meant it.”

“But it’s not that easy.” I shake my head. “I know that, first-hand, and I can’t go through that again, Harry.”

“I know.” He nods and steps closer to me and for the first time since he grabbed me, his hand gently falls on my elbow and my breath gets stuck on my throat. “But I’m not asking you to like be my tutor or anything, Blue” he smiles “I just want you to be my girlfriend.” He smiles.

I chuckle.

“You’re labelling it now?”

“I just want you to be close.” He rephrases and my heart beats harder.

“How is that going to change anything?”

He frowns and looks at me as if I was insane and I can hear on his mind “it changes everything, baby” but instead he just rests his forehead against mine and I feel his hot, minty breath against my cheeks.

“I told you” he whispers “I don’t want to hurt you. That’s enough for me not to do things that will.”

I sigh and cup his cheeks on my hands, lifting his face so our eyes meet.

“One other thing though” I whisper “don’t speak about yourself like that ever again.”

I can hear him swallowing.

HARRY’S POV

Her big eyes investigate mine and I feel my pulse on my neck very close to where her fingers rest. Fuck, I want to kiss her. How can she disagree with me on anything I just said to her? It’s all true; keeping her with me is probably the most selfish thing I have ever done but I’ve missed her so much and it looks like she missed me too so why should I push her away?

I can’t believe I can hurt her. It doesn’t make sense to me that she cares about me enough so that I can break her heart like she said but just thinking that I did makes me feel like I’m not worth the air that I’m breathing. My eyes drop to her lips again and her pink tongue timidly licks them under my mesmerised stare. She must know what she’s doing.

My eyes shift back to hers and it’s a silence way of asking for permission but her hands close into fists on the lapels of my jacket and she presses her lips against mine. I feel the air coming down my throat and every fibre of my body electrifies. My hands find a home on her hips and I cling onto her when her tongue, fearless and tender, pushes inside my mouth and brings the electricity to mine.

She smells so good… It’s driving me crazy. I press my hands against the back of her thighs and hold her up and her perfect legs wrap around my hips. I walk holding her until I sit her down on the empty stage but she lies on her back and pulls me so my body is hovering over hers.

I feel her pulse against my lips as I kiss down her neck and back up to that place she loves right below her ear. She gasps and sweetly moans and I start to feel the lack of blood on my brain. I grind my hips against hers, slowly but firmly enough so that we both feel the friction, and she moans on my ear as her fingers sink on my hair.

Her words resound on my mind. You did use me and then… I’m not saying you forced me, Harry… You slept with me whenever you wanted…Whenever you needed a fuck…

“What’s wrong?” She whispers.

“It’s just” I smile in a pathetic attempt at covering my guiltiness “it’s the first time I’m gonna… We’re gonna fuck as a proper couple.” She rolls her eyes but smiles and I peck her lips “I don’t think I want to do it on a dusty abandoned stage.”

She smiles.

“Yeah, we probably should get back to the party.”

“Yes, we should.”

I stand up and hold my hand out for her and for once she lets me help her without a feminist remark. I look down at my pants, I think if I move the right way no one would notice. She fixes her hair as if she could look better and then gives me a smile. The air gets stuck on my throat.

“How do I look?”

“Fucking gorgeous.”

She giggles.

“Hey, H.”

I almost give myself whiplash with the speed I tilted my neck to see her. Did she just give me a nickname? That’s how I sign shit too, with an H, and I just like that she has her own special way of calling me.

“Sorry” she blushes “I don’t know where that came from.”

“Don’t be.” I squeeze her waist. “I like it.”

She grins. Fucking hell, she’s gonna make this whole don’t-fuck-her-that-often resolution very difficult.

“I just wanted to apologize for the way I reacted at your sister’s birthday. It was so fucking self-important of me to get mad at you when it was something so… Terrible and difficult for you. It just took me off guard but I want you to know I do not think it was your fault.”

“Don’t apologize for that.”

“No, I do. I do apologize, love. It was not right and I’m sorry.” She holds my gaze. “Do you forgive me?” She smirks.

“Of course, I do.” My voice surprises me as a whisper. “Do you forgive me?”

She just nods. She fascinates me.

When we go back to the party, I try to keep my hands to myself. I don’t want her to ever feel like that again, like she’s just a body that I use to get off; even the thought makes me want to throw up. But it doesn’t matter what I tell her, I’ve tried to explain it to her but I suck at it. I always end up sounding like some sort of sex deprived pervert or some sex addict, so I reckon I’m gonna have to cut the sex part of our relationship a little bit for her to understand it. It’s just… It’s so much more than that.

I don’t know how to put it into words but it’s like I have this need to physically be with her. I guess the fact that I’m aware of how much I suck at the communication department is also adding to the mixture but I feel like there’s only so much I can say, but I can show her what she does to me and I can be close to her, so impossibly close no one else gets to be there.

I’m afraid to tell her because I think it’s not sane and I’m sure she would never approve of that sense of possession I can’t help but to add to it but I just love having her all to myself and I love the way she sounds and the way she touches me and she pulls from my hair because she knows it’s her that’s making me go crazy.

She’s been studying me ever since we came back from our rendezvous. Whenever I glance at her, she’s staring at me and while her attention makes me thrilled, I’m kind of worried she might be having second thoughts. For the love of God, who would have think I would be such a wimp?

I don’t want to mess this up with her.

“Just go dance with her.” Mario laughs.

“I don’t dance.”

“She clearly wants to dance with you.” He raises his eyebrows.

“Well, she knows I don’t dance so...”

“Well, then that’s perfect to make her feel special.” He offers. “You don’t dance; unless…”

He raises his eyebrows like the kombucha girl meme and I finally let my lips curl up. He’s got a point… And she looks incredible in that dress… And I could have my hands on her hips or even kiss her because she’s my girl.

Before I know what I’m doing, my feet start moving towards her. She grins and immediately stands right by my side as if I was the only one dancing with her. She makes me nervous.

“Just know I’ve never done this before.”

“You’ve never danced?” She smiles.

“I’ve never danced with a girl.”

“Well” she shrugs “you can pretend I’m a boy, if you want.”

I look her body up and down. Right, like I could ever pretend that. I chuckle but I know she can tell I’m nervous. She is pretty good at reading my body. She presses a kiss to my cheek and I already feel like being here and being ridiculous is worth it but then she turns her body so that her back is pressed against my chest and she rests my hands on her hips.

“Just relax, baby.”

She smiles at me before she starts pushing her hips against mine and moving them in circles. I feel her moving against me and watch her smile and I know she knows what she’s doing. I’ve heard this song on the radio before and I know she likes it. I think about the light, for the singer says he’s blinded by the lights, and I can only pity him for if he’s blind, he’ll never get to see this.

Swaying her shoulders, Blue caresses the side of neck before she pushes all her hair to one side on her face, leaving the skin on her cheek and her neck completely exposed to me. I’m sure she can hear my troubled breathing.

“Are you enjoying it?” She asks.

“You’re torturing me.” I giggle stupidly.

“Am I?” She presses her bum deeper against me and my grip on her hip tightens, stopping her. “How so?”

“You look like an angel” I whisper on her ear because two can play this game “but you’re the devil in disguise.”

She giggles and that alone does it for me yet then she turns around and rests her hands on my shoulders before she’s kissing me. I feel my heart beating on the back of my throat. When she’s satisfied, having stolen all the air of my lungs, she pulls back but just the inches enough so I can hear her.

“Are you tired?”

No, but if she wants to leave, I’ll be the first to run.

“Do you wanna go?” I ask her instead.

She just nods but her face makes me laugh. She looks so tired yet so beautiful and sexy it’s ridiculous.

“Okay, then let’s go, babe.”

We walk together towards my car and I reach for her hand. It relaxes my pulse somewhat that she doesn’t pull away. I remember she tried to hold my hand once, when we had just shagged a couple times I reckon, and I pulled away. I guess even back then I kind of knew this was not just sex.

“Yours or mine?”

“Yours.” She smiles.

And that’s the last thing she says until we make it to my apartment. When we walk inside and I close the door behind her, I make my way towards the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water. If she hadn’t said what she did about me using her, I would have her against the wall.

I can’t help thinking about the soft skin on her neckline and the sweet vanilla scent she always brings to my nostrils and how intoxicating her whispers can be so I drink more water than I need, thinking that’s going to help holding myself back. From the corner of my eye, I can see her resting her hips on the kitchen island and crossing her arms across her chest.

“What is it?” She whispers.

“What is it?”

“Is it-” She swallows. “Never mind.”

“Is it what?”

I turn around so I can look at her and I don’t like the way she’s covering herself up even when she’s still fully dressed. She’s taken off her coat and that fucking black dress she’s wearing is hugging her figure in all the right places and I can’t help my eyes. But then I hear her take a deep breath and my eyes search hers but she’s not looking at me.

“I put on some weight… It’s just… It’s Christmas.”

My face contorts. I do not know what she’s talking about.

“And that’s something you wanted to tell me because…?”

Only then her hazel eyes look into my own and her self-doubt punches me on the belly.

“I was just considering that maybe… You don’t… Find me as attractive as you used to.”

Her lips set on a line as she stares at me. It feels like she’s apologizing for that, which is beyond fucked up, but the only thing I like about this is that small hint of challenge she’s giving me. I can see Blue fighting Indie, the confident, strong, independent woman in her is telling me I put on some weight and you can go fuck yourself if you have a problem with that; and the teenage girl in her is ashamed that she did. I don’t know which one is winning but I look at her and I see her and I see her lips, full and plump and intense red and perfect and I see her nose, like a hazelnut left under her eyes, and I see her cheekbones and her neck and her chest and it just puzzles me that she could ever think I don’t find her attractive.

“How...?” I can’t find the words. “What are you talking about?”

“Do you feel as attracted to me as you did before?”

“What? Where is this coming from?”

I want to understand her. Maybe someone said something to her, some jealous bitch or something or maybe she’s just putting these ideas on her own mind and that would be a bigger problem.

“Well…” She starts “When we were kissing before, you just pulled away when it started to get, uh, hot, I guess and… You have barely touched me after that… So I’m just wondering… Do you not want to… Touch me like that anymore?”

I shut my eyes, we’ve been over this before and we ended up having sex and she doesn’t seem to get it.

“Do you really think I could ever not be attracted to you?”

Her eyes frantically move between my own as if she was searching for the answer on my pupils.

“It’s crossed my mind.”

“Alright, we need to talk about this.”

She’s horrified and she hasn’t even heard what I’ve got to say. I hope I don’t sound like a creep to her and I hope I can manage to explain this.

“I am trying to hold back pretty hard because you make it very difficult for me but… Uh… After what you said about… How you felt… Used and… That I just came to you when I needed a fuck that’s just not true. I mean obviously you turn me on and you like wake this thing inside me like I just can’t enough of you but that’s not all you are to me. In fact, that’s like the small part. I mean… Sex with you is amazing but… I think it feels so good because it’s not just sex. Am I making any sense?”

She nods her head and smiles.

“I think you are.”

“I… Do you remember when you told me you weren’t okay with me sleeping with other people because it made you feel like just another notch on my belt?” She nods but her expression has changed from happy to embarrassed. “Well, I wasn’t even sleeping with other people. I just…” I shake my head- I messed up from the beginning, didn’t I? “I thought that was what you wanted and I thought if you knew I was only seeing you I’d scare you away because you had said so many time before that you didn’t want a relationship and that it was just sex but it’s not.” I chuckle. “And I get why you don’t get it. I mean I’ve been worried myself that I had become obsessed with sex, you know?”

“Well, are you?” She frowns.

“No,” I chuckle “it’s not about sex, Blue. It’s… You.” I shrug. There, I said it. “If anything, that’s what I’m obsessed with.” I laugh. “I just didn’t know how to tell you, I guess, and the way I knew how was that. I guess what I’m trying to say is- I am…” I take a deep breath, what am I going to say? “Crazy about you and… it’s not just sex, I…” like, love “care about you” I nod, good choice “a lot.”  

She bites her bottom lip but the corner of her lips curl upwards into a smile. She’s nervous and so am I. I don’t know how to do this.

“I care about you too.” She confesses and I feel a weight being lifted off my chest that escapes like chuckles through my nostrils. “And I’m sorry I threw this whole thing at you. It’s just… I had a bad year in high school and I know that’s like so long ago and I’m an adult now and a lot of things have happened after that but I guess it just… Deep down I still have an issue with that.” Her voice croaks and she tilts her neck as if that was going to keep her tears at bay. It does. “It’s not you, I mean it’s not on anything you do, it’s just me. I need to get over that.”

“Okay.” I smile at her.

I feel lucky she shared that with me and I can tell a lot of things have changed tonight. We are actually talking and I feel like she just opened a little window for me to peek at the inside wonders of Indigo Blue Anderson.

“And just to be clear” I add “You look breath-taking and your body is amazing and you should never even consider that I don’t find you attractive. I think about you naked all the time.”

She laughs and her eyes beg for my closeness. I hold my hand in the air for her to take and she does but still doesn’t move.

“Now, come here.”

I lean in closer so I can grab her elbow instead of her hand and pull her towards me faster. I am still grinning when she finally presses her lips against mine. Her kiss is soft but needy and my pulse accelerates as I feel my blood rushing in a frenzy. I squeeze her hips and her tongue pushes inside my mouth making me swallow my own breath as her fingers sink into my hair and she pulls from it.

“I know it’s not just sex” she whispers against my lips “but I want to fuck you.”

Her initiative stirs something inside me and all my blood rushes to my dick. I’ve desired this woman since the last time I was inside her and now I know she feels the same way.

“You know I care about you too?” I ask her.

“Yes.” She licks my lips and drives me crazy. “But now I want you to shut up and give me the attention that I want after you ignored me for days.”

“The attention that you want?”

I think my delightfulness can be heard on my tone. Ignore her for day… She has no idea how many times I’ve touched myself thinking about her, imagining her on top of me, imagining how her sweet voice would sound on my ear if she told me she loves me.

“Yes.” She bites my bottom lip.

“And what is it that you want, love?”

She pulls away so she can look into my eyes and rests her hands on my chest.

“I want you to make me forget about anything that’s not you and for you to touch me and to kiss me without holding back.”

Her words make my blood boil but somehow they bring a strange calm to the rest of the room, like they lifted a weight on my shoulders. My hands are still resting on her hips and my lips are parted. I don’t know what to say to her, she’s mesmerising. She leans in then until her lips brush against my ear and my eyes closed. She whispers.

“I want to feel your hands all over my body and to have you gasping for air on my ear and then I want to feel your fingers inside me until I’m about to cum and then” my hands move down to her ass and she sighs on my ear “I want you to get inside me and fuck me until I can’t see.”

She pulls apart so she can look into my eyes I guess but I can take mine away from her parted lips and the outline of her breasts under her dress. When I manage to look up at her though, my usually timid girl has wild eyes as she looks at me. She pushes my chest slightly so as to get a reaction from me and I feel the luckiest bastard on Earth.

“So what? Are you going to do it?”

She presses kisses down my cheek and the side of my neck and I thank God I untied my bowtie a while ago so she has access to the line that joins my neck and my shoulder with her sweet tongue.

I can’t take it anymore. My fingers sink on her skin as I push her towards the bedroom and I feel her smiling against my skin. Holding her hips, I turn her body around and undo the little button that’s holding her dress around her neck and watch it fall until it’s just a dark bundle on her ankles. She’s not wearing a bra but I already knew that. I circle her and sit down on my mattress with her between my legs and just look up. She’s wearing nothing but a red wine colour velvet thong and my hands caress her belly and the top of her thighs when she rests her hands on my shoulders.

“I’ve been torturing myself with this memory of how you look in just your knickers for a week...” I drink in every detail I’ve missed so much, the curve of her hips, the flesh under the strap of her thong, her navel… “You’re so fucking gorgeous, my love.”

She grins at me and pushes on my shoulder enough so there’s room for her to straddle me and her perfect, soft breasts are inches away from me. I grab her ass and squeeze it on my hand and she moans sweetly. Holy shit, I can’t remember being this turned on with anyone else.

I wrap my lips around one of her dark nipples and my other hand squeezes her other breast and her nails sink on my shoulders as she gasps and moans. I torture her just like she did before with that porn scene in the kitchen and I run my tongue around her nipple and my fingers down the cups of her perfect breasts that fill my hand when I squeeze them. She’s so beautiful, fuck.

She unbuttons my shirt and pushes the fabric down my arms until I’m shirtless. I’d pay to know what’s going through her mind but she seems to read mine because with a pull from her thong, she lifts one knee at a time on the air so I can put it down her legs. Once she’s fully naked, I slide my hand between her thighs and grace my fingers with her wetness. I grunt myself when I notice how soaked she is and I need to taste her so I slip down her body and lie on my back, pulling from the back of her full thighs until her wet slit is on my mouth.

“Oh God!” She only speaks when my tongue darts down her wet folds.

I close my lips around her clit and suck it inside my mouth and hear her gasping over me. She’s so warm and salty and I’ve missed this like crazy. Our eyes meet and the way she’s looking down at me with big eyes and pupils blown away has me grinning.

“Did you touch yourself these days?”

She shuts her mouth but gives me a look as if considering whether to tell me. Her skin over her cheeks and down her neck has tinged pink. I smile. She did and just the image of her lying on her bed with her tanned legs spread opened and her hand on her clit… I press one single finger on her entrance and slip it in just an inch and she groans.

“Don’t play with me.”

“Answer me, baby.”

“Yes, I did.”

I reward her with my tongue licking away where she likes it and she gasps and pulls from my hair.

“Did you think about this?” I whisper in between licks. “Did you imagine it was me?”

“Yes.” She moans. “I thought of you, just you in general.”

It takes me by surprise that she elaborates that much so I grab her cheeks and pull her closer to my mouth as I devour her turning her into a moaning mess over me.

“I thought of your hands” she grants me more “and your voice and the way you smell and how warm you always are…”

Her confession excites me and I want to pleasure her more than I’ve ever wanted to before. I know I could have her cumming in my mouth in a few minutes but that’s not what I want right now. I want to kiss her and I want her to kiss me so I slip down between her legs and take off my pants and boxers in the second it takes her to turn around with a confused face.

She looks so soft and velvety and so fucking sexy… I place my hands on her hips and her belly and turn her around so her back hits the mattress and then I lie on top of her, claiming her mouth in a hungry kiss that she reciprocates. Her hands go down my bare chest.

“I love your body.”

I smile. Her complimenting me is rare but I love it. She’s told me she thinks I’m handsome but she’s never complimented my body before. She licks her reddish lip from all the kissing and I grind my hips against her so she can feel how hard I am for her. Her eyes roll to the back of her head and I cup her cheek on one hand so her face stays still and I can see her. With the other hand, I grab my dick and align it with her sex before I slowly roll inside her.

“Oh.” She moans as I grind my hips pushing deeper until she’s taken me completely.  

“Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

I love having her without a condom. I didn’t think it was going to be that different, but I can feel her wet and warm and slippery around me and it drives me crazy. I move slowly in and out of her and lift my weight on my elbows against the mattress so I can see her face better as I enter her and her hands move to the lower part of my back where she sinks her nails. Like that she pulls me in closer and tries to get me deeper inside her and the sweat graces my spine like transparent pearls.

I feel our connection like a rush of electricity that runs from the spot where I end and she begins all the way up to my heart and throat and mind. She consumes me and I’m not sure where that separation, that spot where I end, is any longer. We’re one right now and I can’t think of a better feeling.

We move in perfect sync and her hips sink down and drift apart at the rhythm of my thrusts. Her walls clench around me and she moans. I see round droplets of sweat covering her chest and her hairline and she just looks so good and so mine.

“You look so sexy, Blue.” I whisper.

With her eyes still closed, she grins taking my compliment and I have to control myself, to hold the words that are burning my throat. Two confessions in one night are already one too many… So instead I just contemplate the woman underneath me and my hand rests on her neck as I move in and out of her and she bites her lip. When her eyes open, she smiles at me and our eyes lock for the longest time.

“I’ve really missed you.” She whispers and a hint of embarrassment flashes on her eyes when she realizes she’s said it out loud.

“I’ve missed you too.” I reciprocate and she brings my face down for a kiss.

Her lips move down my chin to my neck and her tongue slowly presses against my skin. I growl and sink harder inside her making her gasp.

“Wait” I grab her chin with my fingers and bring her face to mine.

“What? What’s wrong?” Confusion floods her beautiful eyes.

“Nothing, I just want to kiss you.”

I feel her smiling against my lips as I kiss her and move my hips sinking inside her and drifting away slowly but firmly. Everything else disappears; it’s just her and me and that’s enough for me.

I pull from her waist and almost lift her from the mattress so that our bodies are as close as humanly possible. I pull away so that I can look at her again and she gives me a smile that melts me. I look down at her body as my hand goes all over her skin, first her breast and then her belly until I find that bundle of nerves that’s throbbing for me and press circles with my fingers against it.

“Tell me how you feel.” I grunt.

I almost can’t stand the pleasure running down my spine and pressing on the end of my dick threatening to paint her walls white but I want to hold it still, I want this to last and for us to have this moment for a little longer.

“It feels so good, H…” She moans my new nickname and I grunt, pushing harder inside her. “You feel amazing… I feel…” I watch her as I speed up the rhythm, she’s struggling with the words and her voice is so raspy and wet and heavy and I won’t last much longer. “Oh, God.”

Her hand curls against the sheets and she sinks her nails on the mattress as I pierced her against it and move faster and faster in and out of her.

“Fuck, Harry, I’m gonna cum.”

I feel her body tensing underneath mine and her nipples peak against my skin as her walls contort and milk me and I grunt and cum inside her before I breathlessly collapse next to her. We both catch our breaths and I watch her sweaty chest moving up and down until the movements are calmed and then I wrap my arm around her and pull her body closer to mine.

[apinktrashworld]

The Game

masterlist

Hoseok x reader | smut, angst | fuckboy au

word count: 2,4k

Once again, you’ve let Hoseok play with you like you’re his favourite toy and you had finally had enough. One day everything’s fine and he can’t keep his hands off of you and the next it’s like he despises you, and you don’t know why. A few days ago everything was normal, you’d meet up in between classes in the janitor’s closet and now Hoseok doesn’t give you a glance whenever you pass each other in the halls. He’s done this several times before and you’ve let him come back to you like nothing’s ever happened. He’s playing with you, but you’re not going to let him play with you any longer. If this is all a game to him, let’s play the game with him.

You stood by your locker in school, stacking books inside. You stuffed in your backpack before shutting your locker closed, and as you did, you caught a glimpse of a tall boy with brown messy hair and jewellery shimmering around his neck and wrists. He was wearing all black, a black hoodie with white text saying fuck you and black ripped jeans revealing his muscular thighs.

Great, you thought, just the person you wanted to see. Hoseok was standing by the classroom you were heading to and you figured this was your chance to have a chat with him before class started. With determined steps and sway with your hips, you walked over to him. You tried to look as unbothered and confident as you could. The clicks from your heels boosted you into the direction Hoseok was in. He was standing with two friends of his, both wearing suit pants and t-shirts. Your eyes were stuck on Hoseok, desperately seeking eye contact, something you didn’t get until you were stood right in front of him. For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Almost like a whisper, you say his name, attempting to sound seductive. He didn’t answer, just looked at you curiously.

“I hope you know, this game you’re playing, you’re gonna end up being the loser” you say as you inch closer to him by every word. You can feel his breath on your face and you catch him looking down on your mouth and back up to meet your eyes, and again, and again. 

When you see his mouth opening to form some sort of response you immediately break eye contact and walk in the classroom fully aware of him staring back at you. You take a seat in the back and see Hoseok and his friends walking after you, taking their seats in the middle of the room. You try your best to avoid eye contact with any of them, not succeeding very well, you meet Hoseok’s eyes and find yourself not being able to look away. He smirks at you and as much as you hate to admit it, you blush and immediately look away. Shifting your eyes from the brunette, down to your desk in front of you to look at your notes, you hear him speaking to his friends again. 

The class hasn’t started yet, but you find yourself already working on your assignment written on the board . You were going to write an essay about a feeling and how it effects you. The pen in your hand starts writing words and ideas down on the paper in front of you, at first there were words that had to do with the assignments but then you felt Hoseok’s gaze at you. Not wanting to meet his gaze you try to make yourself look as busy as you could, writing down nonsense on your paper.

Everyone was working hard with the assignment you had been given, the room was dead silent. Only hearing pens scraping against papers and the teacher tapping his foot on the floor while grading papers to make time pass faster and an occasional humming from him. You couldn’t concentrate at all, the teacher was getting on your nerves and the way Hoseok was looking back at you from time to time had your mind running wild, imagining things you definitely shouldn’t be imagining in a psychology class. 

You had to excuse yourself, you had to get away from the presence of Hoseok for a while. Raising your hand, you catch the teacher’s attention and tell him you need to go to the bathroom. He nods and gestures his hand to the door with a kind smile before returning to grading his papers. Getting out of your chair, you walk hastily out of the room, the sounds from your heels breaking the silence.

While in the bathroom, you wash your hands and check your outfit in the mirror. You wore black high-waist jeans with a white t-shirt that you’d tucked in your jeans along with black heels that completed the look. 

Exiting the bathroom you head back to the class. Turning the corner to the classroom, you get startled by Hoseok standing ahead of you taking out a book from his locker. Your heels revealed your presence, and it seems like you startled Hoseok too. The little screech he let out made you giggle and that caught his attention. He smiled at you. It made your heart flutter. You want to believe that he only smiles like that to you, though you know that’s only wishful thinking. You missed that smile and you wanted it to belong to you. Coming back to reality you thought you needed to stay strong and convinced yourself that Hoseok isn’t worth your time anymore, he’s not winning this time. 

You walked back towards the classroom but stopped in your tracks when you felt Hoseok’s hand grab you by your arm. He said your name, in the same tone you had said his before. He pulled you closer to him and let out a sigh, as if though he felt relieved by your closeness. Still trying to look unbothered, you remain silent, waiting for him to say something again. 

“I need to go back to class” you say after he didn’t speak. Your eyes changes from his right eye to his left and you try your best not to drown in them. You two stared at each other for a few moments. That is, until he suddenly kissed you.

You got so startled that you forgot about your plan to stay strong and acting like you didn’t want to throw yourself all over him again. His warm, wet lips smashed against yours. You didn’t want to give in, but you’ve missed his touch too much and now that you finally had it, you didn’t want to let go just like that. So you kissed him back, pressing back at his mouth just as much as he pressed against yours. He let go of your arm and wrapped both of his arms around your waist to pull you closer. Your hands immediately wanders up to his already messy hair hand curl your fingers in his locks. 

The kiss gradually got hotter for every second and both yours and Hoseok’s arms got more eager, exploring every inch of each others bodies. Hoseok move you two and push you onto the lockers that were behind him and broke the kiss. He pulled back to look at you before he smirked and dove right back in again to kiss your swollen lips. His hands glided down to your ass where he rested them for a few seconds before he started squeezing, which led you to let out a moan, an extremely small sound that only Hoseok’s ears could hear. The mon only spurred him on, he moved from your mouth down to your neck, starting to suck and bite which made you moan even louder than before. Still trying to be quiet since you’re at school and anybody, a student or a teacher, could walk in and see you right there making out against the lockers.

“Hoseok” you say in between kisses, in which he only hums in response. You struggle to get out words since Hoseok is working wonders on your neck. “Janitor’s closet. Now”.

You feel him smirk against your neck before he pulls away from you and takes your hand to lead you to the well known closet you’ve done it so many times in before. He lightly pushes you in before he himself walked inside and locked the door. He proceeded to attack your lips once again, starting to groan. Both of you getting more and more impatient to explore each others bodies.

Hoseok hurriedly pulls off his hoodie and you immediately start feeling on his bare arms and back. There’s only been a few days since you last did this, but it feels like forever ago and you wanted to feel it all. Hoseok must feel the same since he started to pull on your shirt, gesturing that you should take it off. In which you did, pulling off your shirt as seductively as you could. Hoseok took a moment to take in his view, you standing in front of him in your black lace bra. He licked his lips.

You continued to kiss, moans and groans filled the air. Hoseok has taken off his pants and you’re only in your panties. Praises here and there from both parties and they only make you want the other more. 

“I’ve missed this” Hoseok says against your lips, you laugh at him. He bites your lip. “I’ve missed you”.

Hoseok played with the waistline of your panties and pulled them down proceeded to take off his underwear shortly after.

“We need to be quick, Hoseok. I’m serious, no games” you say, trying to sound as serious as you possibly could manage in the state you’re in. He just smirks at you and whispers: “I thought you liked games”.

He lifts your right leg and hooked it around his waist. He kisses you before lining himself up by your entrance, then pushes in. You let out a silent moan as he does, not wanting to risk anyone hearing you, it wouldn’t have been the first time that would’ve happened.

Hoseok was drilling into you at an unbelievable speed, taking your request into mind and wanting for you both to finish as quickly as possible. You’re restraining from moaning too loud but it gets more and more difficult for every thrust Hoseok makes. Hoseok struggles as well to keep his own moans down. He’s right by your ear, you can hear his heavenly groans loud and clear. You hold him tight around his neck, clenching your fingers hard on his skin which will sure leave marks on him later on. 

You clench around him and he lets out an aggressive groan and starts squeezing hard on your hips. Harder and Harder. “Y/n” groan “You feel really good”. 

You’re not seeing clearly, you’re seeing spots in the darkness of the closet. Hoseok is making you feel so good, better than he ever had before. You couldn’t form a proper response to his praise. Instead, you lay your head on the crook of his neck and starts moaning against his skin, closing your eyes to take it all in.

His thrusts are getting quicker and more uneven, he’s almost finished. You lift your head to look at him. His head is thrown back, mouth agape, eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed. His whole face scrunches up as he finishes. He moves his hand down between your sweaty bodies and starts playing with your most sensitive spot while he rides out his high. You almost scream at the sensation. He kisses your neck and starts sucking on your sensitive skin to make you finish. 

A powerful feeling washes over you as you cum and you can’t think of anything clearly anymore. Just the amazing feeling of Hoseok’s mouth on your neck and the wonders he’s working with his fingers. 

Coming down from your high, you’re left catching your breath. Both of you are breathing heavily and an occasional kiss on your lips here and there. You felt so good, you felt taken care of and you wanted to stay here forever. But you knew that feeling wasn’t mutual. You knew that the moment you both walk out of this closet it’s back to the way it usually was. Hoseok would come to you whenever he needed too and you’d take care of him like you always do, you’d do it without any doubt. You’re wrapped around Hoseok’s little finger and you both know it. That’s why you want to stay here, where you’re in each others arms, with no other thoughts than the other in front of you. Hoseok interrupted your thoughts.

“How does it feel?” he says, quiet as a whisper. He pulls the hair in your face behind your ear and smiles. There’s that smile again that has you captured. 

You smile back at him an lean into his touch by the side of your head. Although it wasn’t a yes or no question, you find yourself nodding your head.

He pulls out of you and starts getting dressed again. Giving you your clothes which are spread around in the little room for you to pull on again. You take them carefully and in slow, tired motions you get dressed. Hoseok takes his black clothes on fast, almost as if i wants to get away from this scene. He gives you a quick peck on your lips before he says:

“How does it feel to lose once again?”

You stop in your tracks, everything stopped working. It’s as if though time stopped passing. You lost. You lost once again to this game he plays.

“Class awaits!” he exclaimed and unlocked the door. He walked out without a second glance back at you. You were left standing dumbfounded in your underwear in the janitor’s closet in school. Your mind is blank. This was expected from him and you knew that, you didn’t know why you thought he’d do otherwise. Just like every time, you think he’s gonna change for you.

 You got dressed and walked out of the closet and back into the classroom where you still had a lecture going on. You stood in the doorway and saw Hoseok fully focused on his assignment again, acting like nothing just happened. 

Walking into the classroom, you take your seat in the back once again and take another look at Hoseok who doesn’t share a single glance back at you. You grab your pen and start writing again. You knew he would do this again, but you wouldn’t let that happen, not again. You swore to yourself that this was the last time you’d ever let Hoseok use you like this.

[jiqri]

A Ghost of the Past

A/N: Gif by me. Yugyeom was giving me major vampy vibes in NBTM and I came across this post, which resulted in whatever this is. This is my first fic and I finished it at like 4am so please excuse any mistakes. Enjoy~ 

Words: 3387

Genre: Tiny amount of angst?? idek, fluff

You turned and twirled in the small dressing room, trying to catch a glimpse of yourself from every angle. They say you can never go wrong with the ‘little black dress’, yet you struggled to recognise the person in the mirror looking back at you. You were way out of your comfort zone putting this tiny piece of fabric on, because that was literally what it was; tiny. Okay, maybe not tiny but small enough.

There was a knock on your door. “You okay in there, Love? You’ve been in there for 15 minutes already.” Your boyfriend’s voice came from the other side.

“I’m fine, I’m just getting changed again.” You puffed your cheeks, quickly getting changed back into your casual wear, putting the dress back on its hanger. It was a habit of yours to always keep the hangers of whatever you were buying.

You opened the door to find Yugyeom sitting legs crossed on the pouf outside, eyes buried in his phone. He looked as stunning as ever, a marble sculpture shaped by the most skilled artist. His full, black hair laid perfectly as always, a tiny freckle right under one of his eyes. God, you loved that freckle. You would never understand how you managed to catch such a stunning creature.

Yugyeom wasted no time putting his phone away the moment he saw you stride towards him. You reached the pouf where he was sat, standing in front of him, the black dress draped over your arm. His hand quickly found yours, stroking the back of it.

“You ready to go?” Looking up at your face, Yugyeom placed a soft kiss on your hand.  

You pulled your hand from his lips to the back of his neck, gently running your fingers through his hair, careful not to mess it up. “Yes, I’m so over this shopping trip.” You pouted.

Shopping was one of the things you hated with a burning passion. You were only here because Yugyeom had dragged you, claiming he wanted to take you on a nice date, and that you needed a new outfit. He smiled as he stood up, a laugh rumbling in his chest.

You sighed. “I still can’t believe you’re making me buy a dress. I have plenty of other suitable clothes at home.”

Yugyeom moved forward to cup your face in his hands. “You do not own a single dress, Y/N. Can you blame me for wanting to see my beautiful girlfriend wear one, just for one night?”

His eyes focused on your lips, caressing his thumb over your bottom lip, his face only inches away from yours. At this point you were tip toeing, desperate for only a small taste of this intoxicating man, a small taste of heaven. He never failed to leave you breathless, and for a second you forgot you were standing in the middle of the fitting area of a small boutique.

Snapping out of your trance when another couple entered the fitting area, you exhaled. “Don’t do that.” Your voice was barely a whisper as you pulled away from the male.

“Do what exactly?” Yugyeom’s eyes were dark, lustful.

You gulped down the saliva that had been pooling in your mouth, letting your eyes wander to anything but him. “Seduce me. It’s unfair, you promised you wouldn’t use your powers on me.”

He hummed, a smirk plastered on his face. “I did no such thing, Love. The emotions you were feeling were all you.”

Needless to say, you knew in your heart he wouldn’t manipulate your emotions to his advantage. You just weren’t ready to admit you were head over heels in love with this marvellous man, who also happened to be a vampire.

Rolling your eyes in response, you grabbed his hand, leading the way to the till so that you could pay for this damn piece of fabric.

You had both made your way out of the boutique after bickering over who was to pay for said piece of fabric. Yugyeom, the gentleman that he was, was persistent on paying for the dress, much to your annoyance. After bickering in front of the poor cashier for a good five minutes, you had finally given in, letting the man pay as he was the one insisting on you getting a dress in the first place.

You were heading home, now excited to get ready for your date. You had been on dates before, but it usually didn’t involve you having to dress up. If Yugyeom wanted you in a dress, it meant he wanted the night to be different from the others; special. In the midst of walking down the crowded street, lost in your own thoughts, a voice croaked from behind you, pulling you back to reality.

“Yugyeom?” The husky voice questioned.

You saw confusion written all over Yugyeom’s face before he turned around to examine the owner of the voice. Curious as to who would know your boyfriend’s name in this town, you followed his movement, turning around to see what was going on for yourself.

Yugyeom’s confused face had now turned into stone. In front of him stood possibly the most gorgeous woman you had ever laid eyes on. Her hair was long and dark, wavy but also so smooth. Did she advertise for Pantene or something? It certainly looked like it.

She had a face straight out of a magazine; big eyes, a small nose, lips a sultry red colour. She was about the same height as Yugyeom, possibly because she was wearing the highest stilettos you had ever seen, yet she made balancing in them look so effortless. Any other human would be wobbling around like Bambi on ice wearing those heels.

And that’s when you realised, she was too perfect, much alike the man standing by your side, because she wasn’t human at all.

She had taken off her sunglasses and placed them on top of her head to get a better look at the man by your side. Maybe if she had kept them on you wouldn’t have felt so incredibly average in her presence.

“It really is you! I have not seen you in-“ She paused as she gave you a glance, obviously unsure of how much you knew about the man and his being. Her eyes quickly wandered back to your boyfriend. “A lifetime.” She finished, shooting him a big smile. Ironic.

Yugyeom gave her a polite smile in return. “Indeed, it’s been quite some time.” Taken back by the sudden reunion, he seemed unsure of what to do, which was out of character for the composed man you were used.

He turned his head to you, placing a steady hand on your hip to pull you closer to him. “This is Y/N, my partner. Y/N, this is Genevieve, an old friend of mine.”

The woman, Genevieve, now shifted her focus to you, taking you in from head to toe. “A pleasure to meet you.” She reached out her perfectly manicured hand to greet you and you took it, giving her possibly the measliest handshake of your life.

She gave you a small smile, retracting her hand. “I didn’t know you had,” she paused again, taking you in once more, “settled in this town. It’s…cute.”

You weren’t sure if she was referring to this town or you, but you decided you didn’t like the sound of either.

Yugyeom shrugged. “I suppose I have a thing for cute.”

She gave him a hum in response, cocking her eyebrow. “It’s been so long Yugyeom, we should catch up. We could go for a meal, like old times.”

You could see her tongue gliding over her subtle fangs, smirking at Yugyeom, carefully observing his reaction. It was like she didn’t even notice your presence anymore from where she was standing in front of you, looking like she was ready to eat your man up like he was a three-course meal.

Something told you she wasn’t implying going for a steak dinner either, unless the cow was served still walking.

Yugyeom hesitated for a moment. Was he actually considering her offer? You awkwardly cleared your throat, hoping your boyfriend would take the hint. You could name a handful of other things you would rather do than to spend time with his old friend.

He squeezed your hip reassuringly, taking a sharp breath in. “Maybe another time, we already have a reservation so we should get going.”

If Genevieve was bothered by this, you wouldn’t have known, as her expression didn’t falter. She clicked her tongue. “That’s a pity, I suppose I will have to hunt someone else down.” You were pretty sure she meant the last part of what she said literally and shuddered by the thought.

Pulling the sunglasses from the top of her head back to her face, she signalled she was leaving. Passing Yugyeom, she put a hand on his arm. “I’m not in town for long so don’t be a stranger, darling.” She smirked whilst eyeing him over the rim of her glasses, retracting her hand from his arm, vanishing into the sea of people behind you.

You felt uneasy to say the least, and surprisingly pissed off. Why didn’t he just decline her offer at once? Who even was she? Jealousy is ugly and it was slowly creeping in on you.

“Are you coming?” Yugyeom’s hand pulled on yours, ushering you to continue on your way home. In the corner of your eye you spotted a particular shop you suddenly felt the urge to visit, just what you needed to complete night’s look.

You rummaged through your bag. “I think I forgot my sunglasses in the fitting room at that boutique, I’ll quickly run back and check. Go back to the car and I’ll met you there, yeah?” You let go of his hand, turning back in the direction of the shop you had been in earlier.

Yugyeom muttered an ‘okay’ and you parted ways, the man oblivious of your true intentions as he headed towards the car you parked a few streets down.

When he was out of your sight you hurriedly made a turn in the opposite direction, doorbell chiming as you entered your shop of choice.

 The dress you had chosen were a perfect match for your newly bought jewellery. Well, it was black, of course it would match, which is why you had lots to choose from when you entered the jewellery shop earlier. You had picked out a pair of earrings, a necklace, a bracelet, even a ring or two, all now carefully attached to your body. You had put on a full face of makeup, a rare sight for you as you normally didn’t have the time to. Putting your heels on, because heels were the only option fitting for tonight according to Yugyeom, you made your way out of your bedroom.

Yugyeom was leaning on your kitchen island, dressed up to match your own outfit, scrolling through his phone yet again. For someone always complaining that people in today’s modern age are always on their phone, he was consistent on putting his own nose in it too.

“These mortals really have no respect for their own limits anymore. Why on earth would you willingly throw yourself out of a moving aeroplane thousands of feet above ground? Their bodies don’t heal if something goes wrong and they hit the ground! Do all mortals subconsciously have a death wi-“

His voice trickled off, the sight of you standing in your doorway all dressed up made his thoughts go foggy. He didn’t need oxygen, he was immortal after all, yet he couldn’t stop the feeling of needing to take a deep breath to collect his thoughts.

For a moment he thought all his sins had been forgiven and he had been lifted to the gates of heaven, God having spared him from being dragged down to the doomed gates of hell for his eternal suffering.  You couldn’t possibly be anything other than an angel.

“You look heavenly.” For once in his life he had no other words to describe your beauty; no words could possibly do you justice.

You noticed how intensely he focused on you and you could feel your blush creeping up, tinting your cheeks a rosy pink.

Yugyeom pushed himself off the kitchen island, eager to get his hands on you. “The dress fits you perfectly.” He was about to pull you in for a kiss until he noticed your jewellery and came to a halt. “And so does your accessories.” He eyed them all, a questioning look taking place on his face.

Remembering that you we’re still not happy from the situation you had ran into earlier during the day, you straightened your posture.

“I saw this cute little shop on my way back from the boutique and I thought, ‘Hey, I don’t have any accessories’ and here we are. Do you like them? They’re all real silver.” You reached out your arm, your boyfriend flinching to the side.

His eyes trailed from the jewellery on your arm up to your face, back to your arm. “They’re nice. What made you go for silver?” He asked cautiously.

You let your arm down, walking over to the couch to pick up your bag. “You know, just thought they would look nice with the dress.”

Yugyeom stood still in his spot, brows furrowed. “So would gold, which also wouldn’t burn my skin off.”

You smirked, your face out of sight from your boyfriend. “Oh, I didn’t think about that. Sorry.” You shrugged.

Your boyfriend let out a sigh, now pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed. “Love, come on. What’s the reason behind this?”

You looked at him with your doe-eyes, feigning innocence again. “What do you mean?”

Yugyeom crossed his arms, glaring in your direction. You could tell he was getting impatient by the way he puffed. “You got rid of all your silver the second I moved in, and you want me to believe you got all of this silver jewellery because ‘It would go nice with the dress’? Do not take me for a fool, Y/N.”

A near mocking laugh escaped your lips. “Maybe if you’re so afraid of a tiny amount of silver you should have invited Genevieve instead. I’m sure she would be more than happy to go for a blue steak with you.“

Yugyeom’s eyes narrowed at your comment. You didn’t normally start petty arguments over anything, so something was bothering you enough for you to lash out like this. He didn’t expect you to be throwing a tantrum over bumping into Genevieve, the past was the past, his story with the woman was buried decades ago.

Then it clicked in his mind.

“Are you jealous?” He asked carefully, his eyes now softer.  

You gaped, slightly offended. “I’m absolutely not jealous of your drop-dead gorgeous old friend. I’m just saying you probably have more in common with her than me when it comes to your choice of food.” You crossed your arms as well as your legs, staring into the darkness outside the window.

“Y/N, please.” Yugyeom sighed. You had to pick a fight, today out of all days.

You on the other hand had never felt this type of rage and the adrenaline that came with it.

Both of you fell silent for a moment, trying to read the situation.

“Who is she to you?” Breaking the silence, your gaze still outside, afraid that if you so much as glanced in Yugyeom’s direction your walls would come crumbling down, exposing you, your weakness on full display.

Yugyeom continued to stay silent, worry building in your chest. This couldn’t be good.

“I’m not buying the old friend crap. She was looking at you like you were a meal but as far as I know, vampires don’t survive off of each other.”

You wanted answers. You needed answers.

Yugyeom’s arms dropped and he made his way to the couch you were sitting on. He sat down next to you, placing a hand on your exposed knee, his touch sending a tingling sensation up your thigh, straight to your spine. Damn this man and how he affected you.

“We knew each other a long time ago. You could say we were partners in crime, we only had each other to rely on. It can be hard out there on your own, not to mention lonely.” His voice was soft, back to its silky-smooth self.

You took a deep, shaky breath.

“So you were lovers, is that it then?”

You couldn’t bear the thought of Yugyeom with someone else. It was ridiculous of course, the man had a life before you, decades before you were even born, he was bound to have been involved with someone. But it didn’t hurt any less hearing about it.

“We were involved with each other in various activities.”

Your heart was beating so hard you could hear your pulse in your ears, and you were sure Yugyeom could hear it just as well, if not better than you.  

“Did you love her?” You weren’t sure if you wanted to hear the answer to the question you just asked, your voice a mere mumble as you were now staring at the floor.

Yugyeom could hear your heart racing, the protruding vein in your neck pulsating, your breathing irregular. His hand squeezed your thigh, just above your knee, drawing circles with his thumb.

“I cared for her in multiple ways, but no, I didn’t love her. It was the reason she left me to my own in the end, I couldn’t love her the way she wanted me to. The way I love you.”

Yugyeom paused, trying to read your face before he continued.

Was he doing the right thing telling you this? It wasn’t unusual for you to ask questions about the past, how things used to be around the world as he had lived to see it unfold, but you never spoke about his past like this. There were uncountable things he could tell you about his past, but he would rather not go near that subject, burying it in the deepest, darkest part of his mind.

“I didn’t think I would ever see her again, we parted nearly a lifetime ago. I didn’t care for her like I care for you. I never loved her. I have never loved anyone like I love you.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you were sure it was going to pack it’s bags and run out of your chest at any point now. Your arms were still crossed over your chest, afraid of hurting your boyfriend with your jewellery as you didn’t actually intend to use them against him. More than anything you wanted to wrap your arms around Yugyeom’s frame, bury yourself face in his chest and smell that familiar scent, his scent.

Voice a mere whisper, you stared into your lap. “Say it again.”

Yugyeom squeezed your thigh once more, firmer this time. He grabbed your chin, gently nudging your chin up so he could tell you straight to your face. “I love you Y/N. I adore you. I crave you. You’re all I could ever want, and I will cherish you forever, even if my damned soul does not deserve you. I won’t let anything in this mortal world part me from you.”

It was all you needed to hear.

A sheepish grin spread across your face. “I love you too, Yugyeom. And I’m sorry about all of this.” You gestured to yourself and the dumb jewellery you were wearing. You were going to throw it all out by morning, not caring about the money you spent on it.

Yugyeom let out a breathy laugh, smiling because you were smiling.

“I know.” He pushed a strand of hair out of your face, careful to avoid your earrings. Soon enough he smirked, eyes just as dark as they had been in the little boutique.

“Now Love, would you please take all of this shiny garbage off of you so that I can kiss you before I go insane?”

A giggle erupted from your lips, throwing every piece of stupid silver on your body across the room, lips finally colliding with your love.

[panda-noosh]

The One Who Wasn’t {Klaus x Reader}

Words: 5.3k

Summary: Reginald Hargreeves thinks you’re special. So does Klaus, but for two very different reasons.

Genre: angst

Warnings: themes of abuse. themes of neglect. themes of obsession. explicit violence/torture. Reginald is a complete fucking psychopath. 

Notes: yeehawwww again. 

---

He thought you were special. He thought you were something you weren't. He put you through hell because his tests had been wrong, and he refused to see it.

  The world had become nothing more than four stone walls and a white chair. There was nothing beyond that – nothing you had ever seen. The manacles around your wrists and ankles were as familiar to you as jewellery was to a person with freedom; you never questioned them, because you'd never looked down to see they weren't there.

    You never questioned the pain. For years, you had been convinced it was normal, that everybody's professors did this. Everyone was getting strapped down and torn apart, right? Everyone was getting screamed at and beaten for the simplest of mistakes, right? Everyone fell asleep on a cold stone floor, locked away in a room with no windows, no air, no life.

   Right?

   You thought it was normal, and that was why you often felt guilty when the pain became too much. The complaints nestled on your tongue, but you would never say them to the Professor – that would get you in trouble. Even more trouble, which was something you couldn't risk. Your body wouldn't be able to handle it.

  The only person who ever truly listened to you when you were in pain was Klaus.

  Klaus Hargreeves. A walking Ouija board. A man of many talents, a man with a loose tongue, a man who risked it all just to clamber down to the basement and see you.

  In the beginning, it was a function of accidents. You were familiar with his screams, because it wasn't rare that the Professor locked him up in the room next door to you; you weren't sure what scared Klaus so much, but he screamed and screamed and you would listen to it so closely, unable to pull away because sometimes, that was the only noise that had stimulated your ears in weeks.

     He managed to get out one day. You remember hearing the door bang open, the sound of his gasps as he threw himself out of the mystery room and straight into your own; he was reaching around for a light switch, he was crying out for someone you didn't know, he was begging it to stop, stop, stop and you could do nothing but pull your knees into your chest and listen to him chunter on and on about something you didn't know.

  He looked up then, and you saw his face. The innocent face of a twelve year old boy – only a year older than you – doused in sweat and tears, mud streaking his cheeks, his knees scraped with the typical scars of a playful child; maybe he fell from a tree, or maybe he had fallen during a game of football. You had never done either of those, weren't sure if the blood dribbling down his leg was appropriate for that of a childish game of football.

  His eyes widened. They were the colour of the earth, blue around the edges, sinking into a pleasant shade of green that was only illuminated further by the tears brimming along his water line. He narrowed them at you, took a step into the room as if deciding whether or not to approach you.

  At the time, you didn't want him to. He was one of the only people you had seen beyond the Professor, certainly the first young person you had ever been in the presence of. His scraggly form and long limbs startled you enough to have you sinking deeper into the corner.

  His eyes widened, noticing your fear. “No, no, wait, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you.”

  You flinched. His voice was too loud. The light from the hallway was too bright.

  He paid your wince no attention, but had the decency to close the door as he stepped fully into the room. His own hands trembled. His voice was hoarse. He was scared, too, but he did a fantastic job of shielding it.

  “I'm Klaus,” he said softly. “Klaus Hargreeves. Who are you?” He paused, bit his bottom lip, evaluated his next sentence. “What are you doing down here?”

    It was only then that you noticed he was wearing the same thing as you, only much cleaner. The Professor called it a uniform. Yours was extremely dirty at this point, but Klaus's looked fresh out the wash. Smelled fresh out the wash, as well.

  He narrowed his eyes. “You don't talk?”

  “Of course I talk.” Your voice broke. You spoke. You knew the English language, could make conversation, but that didn't mean you did it often.

  Klaus's eyes softened. “Good. That's good. Great, even.” Slowly, he lowered himself to the floor in front of you. You resisted the urge to flinch again. He'd been confused when you did it the last time. You didn't want to confuse him. “Can you tell me what your name is?”

  The Professor always told you that names had a lot of power. “Y/N.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Y/N. That's a nice name. My name's Klaus.”

   “You said that before.” He had. You were just pointing out the obvious.

    He nodded. “I thought I'd tell you again. Just in case you forgot.” He paused. “You're meant to compliment my name now. I think that's the way it goes.”

    You stared at him, unmoving, unblinking, trying to decipher what exactly he was trying to do. The Professor had told you he had kids – surely Klaus was one of them. He looked nothing like the old man, but you struggled to believe that anyone looked like the Professor – he was too old, had bushy grey hair that seemed most unrealistic.

  Klaus was ethereal. His brown hair was caked in dirt. His cheeks were streaked with a similar substance. His knees were grazed, and there was a bruise on the side of his head that was turning purple – you looked down at the bruises indented in your own flesh, couldn't help but smile at the fact you had finally found someone who had similar marks to you.

  You looked up, met his eyes again and said, “I like your name. I think it's pretty.”

  ---

  “I don't think many people actually realise how good pineapple on pizza is.”

  You narrowed your eyes, kept your hands on your knees. Again, you remained pressed against the wall, even though you wanted nothing more than to sneak forward and catch a glimpse of this strange food Klaus was describing.

  He peeked up at you. Fifteen years old now, and he still managed to look ungroomed beyond anything. His brown hair dangled in his eyes now, having gained a nice little wave to it, courtesy of the rain he barrelled through only moments before. He hadn't even taken the time to dry off before he came down to visit you.

  And in his hands was a cardboard box. You initially squeaked, pulled away when he set it down in front of you – the Professor always carried his syringes in a cardboard box.

  “You can have some, you know,” Klaus said, holding the slice of pizza out to you. “I brought it down so we could share.”

  “What is it?” you asked, craning your neck to get a better look.

  Klaus nudged the box closer. “It's pizza. Bread, cheese, tomato sauce – my brother Diego likes it with a barbecue base, but I think that's illegal.”

    “He's breaking the law?”

   Klaus nodded as if this was no big deal. You watched him take another humongous bite out of the food, failed to disguise the way your stomach growled. It did look appetising; you were familiar with the bread part of it, at least. The Professor was often nice enough to give you onion bread. It was your favourite.

   Klaus sighed, looking up. “I heard that, you know,” he said. “Have a piece. I'm not leaving here until I've watched you eat.”

   You blinked. Hesitated. Thought it over and realised Klaus was serious – he wanted to share his food with you. He was offering. You smiled lightly as you reached forward and scooped a bit of the pizza out of the cardboard box, watching in awe as the cheese stretched. Klaus reached over, swiped his finger through the thin strand of cheese before he motioned for you to take a bite.

  You did just that, and your eyes immediately widened.

  Klaus laughed. Loudly, boldly, much too bold for someone who wasn't even supposed to be in your presence. “See? I knew you'd like it!”

   You nodded enthusiastically, taking another bite. And another. And another, until eventually you were left with nothing but the crust – that was gone in a matter of seconds, too.

  Klaus chuckled, nudging the box closer still towards you. “Dig in. There's plenty where that came from.”

   He was offering, you reminded yourself, forcing the guilt out of your head to allow room to marvel at the new flavours you were trying out. You took another slice, and another, holding the both of them in your two hands. Klaus raised a brow, grinned around his own slice of pizza before he took another one, mimicking the same greedy pose as you.

  And together, the two of you ate, laughed about the stupidest of things, and for a moment, the world didn't seem so bleak. For a moment, your world consisted of more than four walls and a white chair.

   ---

  “I always thought dead people would be really rude.”

   Klaus nodded, shifting his leg beneath your head; the cold floor dug into your back, but you paid it little attention. You were comfortable, head resting in Klaus's lap, a book that he stole for you hanging above your head. His back was leaned against the wall – the two of you had switched places now. He was eighteen. You were seventeen. Things were changing.

  “They can be,” he said. “But mostly they're just depressing as hell.”

  “Well, I can imagine. It must not be very nice being dead.”

   Klaus fell silent. You glanced up at him, past the pages of your book until they met his face. Sharp jawline, deadened eyes, a blunt hanging from his lips that he struggled to relight. You screwed your face up, nuzzling your head into his abdomen. He looked down at you, plucking the blunt from his lips to watch you properly.

  “What?”

   “That stuff stinks,” you said. “The Professor is gonna know you were in here if he smells it.”

   Klaus shrugged as if it was no big deal, as if you wouldn't get the beating of your life if the Professor found out about your and Klaus's ongoing rendezvous. “I wish you'd stop calling him that.”

  You started. “What?”

  “The Professor,” he replied, lowering his voice to dramatic levels. “He's called Reginald. Just call him Reginald.”

  “I don't like calling him Reginald.” You shifted on his lap again. He dropped one of his hands, gently played with the ends of your hair as he watched you get comfortable. “Besides, he's never told me his real name before. If I start getting into the habit of calling him Reginald-”

  “Yes, yes, I know,” Klaus grumbled. “He'll know I've been here.”

  “Exactly.” You patted his thigh. “I'm glad you're finally starting to understand.”   Klaus rolled his eyes, but he couldn't possibly hide his smile – not from you, not whenever you were watching him so closely.

   You did this all the time, and he asked you about it just as frequently; why you stared at him. Why you would sometimes get so lost in the sight of him that the rest of the conversation went in one ear and out the other. He would poke you for it, make fun of you, laugh when you quietly told him to shut up and turned away in embarrassment.

  But he would never understand. That was something you had to remember.

  You and Klaus got on so well. So, so well. He made your heart race and your palms sweaty, but he wasn't like you. He spent a few hours each day with you, keeping you company and making sure you weren't driven to that paralysing point of insanity ever again – but then he would get up and go back upstairs and be met with a Sunday roast and siblings who he could talk to and tease. The conversation would go on for him, whilst you went back to silence.

    The Professor insisted there was something special about you. He took you in when you were a baby – you didn't remember your birth parents, your place of birth, if you had a name before the Professor had tacked the label Y/N onto your person. He was adamant on the fact that you were one of them, and he wouldn't give up until he unlocked that part of you that he believed was so special.

  But you weren't. You had just been born on the same day as his kids.

  Klaus's hand tugged on a strand of your hair, pulling you back to the present. “Hey. I thought I'd lost you there.”

   “Sorry,” you mumbled, folding the page of your book and placing it beside you. “Thanks for the book. I was getting bored on my own.”

   Klaus smiled. “Any time. You can ask me any time.”

   “I know I can.”

   You reached up, intertwined your fingers with his, tugging his hand out of your hair and instead placing it on your stomach. His fingers trailed down your middle, dipped beneath the bottom of your shirt, messing idly with the hem of your shorts.

  He inhaled deeply, leaned his head back against the stone wall. “I don't want to leave again, but Dad will be down here soon to check on you, won't he?”

   You shrugged. “Him or Grace.”

   “Well, either way.” Klaus shifted, boosting you off of his knee so you were sitting upright beside him. His hand slid away from your stomach, landed on your thigh instead. “I should get going.”

 You nodded, smiling to hide your disappointment. Nonetheless, Klaus could see it. His eyes softened before he leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to your cheek – it was something he had been doing recently. In the beginning, it startled you. It was one thing having his hands touch your flesh, but his mouth? At the time, it seemed utterly bizarre. But then he explained it – it was what everyone did. Just like everyone got tied down to a white chair. Just like everyone slept on a cold stone floor. Just like everyone cried themselves to sleep most nights.

   It was normal.

  And besides, you liked the feel of it sometimes.

  ---

   “And what, do tell, is this?”

   You jerked awake, heart hammering against your rib cage. The nightmares, the terrors, the torments of your own brain – they had been banished in a matter of seconds by the Professors voice.

  The worst nightmare of all, only you couldn't just open your eyes and escape this one.

  He was early this morning. He stood in your doorway, shadowed by the light, barely visible as your eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. You sat up slowly, palm pressing against the floor. You curled your fingers, grabbing at the stone – your sleeping stone. It was special.

  The Professor was holding something in his hand. Tightly. So tightly that his knuckles were turning an even paler shade of white. His lips were pressed together so the colour was leached out of them, as well. In his white lab coat, he looked nothing more than a piece of paper, flying through the wind. You smiled, remembering the book Klaus had stole for you.

  It was instinctive when you reached out to touch it in its hiding place behind one of the many stone pillars in this room.

  It was horror when your fingers wrapped around nothing. It was pure, unfiltered horror when you looked up and realised what it was the Professor was holding.

    “Oh god,” you whispered.

   He threw it to the floor. It crashed against the stone, startled you. You squealed at the loud BANG that immediately echoed through the room, scrambling upright and tugging your knees into your chest. You leaned your head against them, closed your eyes, whispered the words Klaus taught you; “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.”

    “And if you're really scared,” he had said in his high pitched thirteen year old voice, “add the number eight.” He had grabbed your hand, putting up eight fingers before pinching the eighth one. “Number eight can be you, but they only show up when you're really, really scared.”

  “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.”

   “Where did you get this from?” the Professor demanded. He stepped into the room, slammed the door closed but he did not make an effort to move towards you. “Have you been stealing from me?”

    “N-no, sir,” you stammered out, still pressing your head into your knees. “Please stop shouting. I don't know-”

   “I'm not here to listen to lies, Y/N,” he growled, stepping forward. His heel clicking off the stone was paralysing. Your mouth wouldn't move. You couldn't talk, couldn't look up, couldn't find comfort in the numbers because you couldn't do anything. “You're going to tell me the truth, or so help me god-”

   “I don't know where it came from,” you cried out. The words burst from your chest, exploded, echoed off the walls-

  And then his hands were wound in your hair, dragging you upright. You screamed, kicked and stumbled. He didn't give you a chance to catch your footing before he draggedyou out the door towards the room you were so, so terribly familiar with at this point – he called it the Test Room. It was where all the pain came from.

   The white chair was there. It welcomed you. It embraced you with open arms, manacles snapping round your wrist, your forehead, your ankles until you were pinned down on all sides by metal, metal, cold metal sinking into your skin and this time it was painful. He'd made them tighter. He made them even tighter now, even as you whimpered and whispered for him to stop. He sat beside you and he smiled until your hands and ankles were numb from lack of circulation and your head was pounding with the metal sinking into it.

    He stopped then, leaned in, and you couldn't help but wonder how it was possible that this man had raised Klaus. Your Klaus – the boy you loved so dearly, the boy who did everything he could to make you happy. How had Klaus been raised by a man who didn't even care enough to give his kids names.

   “You know, this book waves a lot of red flags for me,” he said, voice low, daring you to speak. “First of all, I didn't give you a book in the first place. Second of all, you don't even know how to read. I never taught you to read.” He leaned back, folding his arms over his chest. “So who did?”

    There was cotton balls in your mouth, an anvil on your chest, metal in your flesh. “I learned on my own. I got the book on my own.”

    He laughed. “We both know you're lying to me now. There's no way you could have gotten out of there. The door was programmed so only people on the outside could open it.”

    “Okay, okay fine!” you burst. “It was – It was Grace. Grace brought me the book because I told her I was bored, and she sat with me-” You cried out. He was tightening the cuffs even more. There was no blood, just pain, just pressure and it was driving you insane. “Oh god, no, please! Please, it was Grace!”

   “You really are more stupid than I thought,” he growled. “Grace is my creation! She would do nothing I didn't tell her to do.”

   You tried to shake your head. It didn't work. You were pinned down. You were trapped, and he was free, and he could do absolutely whatever he wanted to you right now and there was nothing you would ever be able to do about it.

  “You're gonna tell me who has been entering your room right now, or I will torture every one of them in front of you until I get my answer.”

  Your eyes bulged open. “Please, no-”

  “Then make this easy on yourself,” he growled. The manacles tightened just a little bit, just enough to have you gasping, squirming against the plush white chair. “Tell me who-”

   “Klaus!” His name was ripped from your mouth. “It was Klaus!”

   The guilt was immediate, accompanied by a sinking feeling of regret. The manacles started to loosen, and as soon as you could, you rolled onto your side and emptied the contents of your stomach. The Professor stared at you through those stupid glasses, slowly shaking his stupid head, staring at you with those stupid eyes that you would take great pleasure in ripping from his skull right about now.

  You fell back against the chair, closing your eyes, fighting to take a breath. “What are you going to do to him?”

  He didn't answer you. Just continued to stare, uttering the same few words over and over again.

   “Of course. I should have known. I should have known. I should have known!”

  He slammed his fist against the metal tray beside him, threw himself to his feet and grabbed your hair. He twisted until you were stumbling off of the seat, dragged to his side in a matter of seconds – he was so powerful, or maybe you were just weak.

    “I want to know how he got out of his chamber,” the Professor growled, so close to your ear, too close to your ear. “How long has this been going on?”

   “God, I don't know! I swear I don't know!” You did know. Years. Years, and he had no clue. You were smart enough to realise that telling him the truth would only make him angrier – the Professor didn't like being made a fool.

  His grip tightened on your hair before he tossed you into the corner of the room. You fell against a metal table, the equipment shattering to the floor. You just barely managed to catch yourself, dart upright before he had you by the throat, pressing you against the wall.

  And in his hand was a syringe.

    You had seen plenty of these. They were used on you on a daily basis, nothing you were unfamiliar with. Sometimes they made you feel woozy. Sometimes they put you to sleep. Sometimes they made your stomach turn, and those were the days the Professor would say you'd been poisoned – he always said poison was a good thing, that it strengthened your resistance.

  But this syringe was one you'd never seen before. It was filled with black stuff. It certainly wasn't poison, because he was aiming for your throat. He'd never injected you in the throat before.

  You tried pulling away, but it only tightened his grip on your shoulders even more.

    “I can't have this,” he growled. It was almost like he was speaking to himself, his watery grey eyes darting all over your upper half. “This isn't right. None of them were meant to know. You were mine. You were mine, and nobody elses. But now he knows. He knows, and he's going to tell people, and they're gonna want to share you.” He inhaled deeply, leaned forward so his forehead clipped against the wall. You could hear his heavy breathing, feel his springy grey hair touching your cheek. “I can't have this.”

    “Please,” you whispered. “Don't hurt Klaus. This wasn't his fault. He was keeping me company. I asked him to-”

  The Professor slammed his forehead into the wall, pulled back and dug the needle of the syringe directly into your throat.

     You tasted it. It went nowhere near your taste buds, but the flavour burst in your mouth, and your body, and paralysed you. It was an array of different things – sweet, sour, acidic all in a number of seconds.

    Then there was the burn. Your cheeks warmed. Your neck warmed. For a second, you could almost convince yourself that it was just a fever, because god only knew you'd had plenty of those in your time. But it got worse. It spread to your fingertips, and it was no longer just an uncomfortable fizzing sensation in your limbs – it burned. It ripped a scream from your throat. You were on fire, fire, fire, and the room was spinning and the white light bursting behind your eyelids was making it impossible to do anything but stumble and scream, claw at the Professor's arm pressed against your throat.

   He pulled away and you fell to the floor. You meant to catch yourself, but it didn't work, didn't work, your legs didn't work.

   He was crying. You could hear him, his pathetic little sobs as you gasped for air, clawing at your throat, trying desperately to get some kind of relief, but nothing worked.

    “I had to do it,” he whimpered. “You're mine.”

  “Yours,” you croaked out. “I was never yours.”

  You fell forward onto your elbows. Your head cracked against the marble floor.

  The Professor's desperate sobs were the last thing you heard.

  ---

  He still looked ethereal.

  Even with a blunt between his lips, his eyes heavy, his body sunk back into an unmade bed. He still looked absolutely breathtaking.

  You stood in his doorway, unsure how you got here in the first place, unsure how you had managed to find your way around so easily. The hallways of the Hargreeves household were confusing, and yet you were drawn to this exact place in a matter of seconds.

  He leaned back, inhaled so deeply that the buttons on his shirt swelled with the movement. His eyes were still closed, one hand draped across his belly whilst the other was knotted in his brown, wavy hair. He plucked the blunt from between his lips, crushed it in an ashtray beside his bed, rolled over onto his side-

  Screamed.

  Your eyes widened, the noise startling you so much that you flinched, stumbling back out of the doorway.

  But Klaus was in front of you in seconds. You hadn't seen him stand, had barely registered him rushing over to you until he was reaching for you, reaching, reaching, reaching-

  Grabbing nothing.

  His breathing stopped. You saw it, that aura around him that told you he was still alive, his heart was still racing. It suddenly stopped moving.

  His bloodshot eyes raked over your body. The aura started moving again, just enough for him to breathe out the word, “No.”

  You didn't know what to say, how to explain what the past few hours had been like.

    Klaus shook his head furiously, desperately. There were tears in his eyes now. You wanted him to stop, wanted to reach forward and grab his face in your hands and tell him to stop because what happened, happened, and his tears were going to do nothing but rip your heart from your chest-

  Not like it mattered.

    “No,” he said, louder this time. “No. No. He didn't-”

  “Klaus,” you croaked out, and he fell silent. He fell silent, and then he fell to his knees, and his head fell into his hands, shaking, trembling.

  You bit your bottom lip, looked to the ceiling, composed yourself before you kneeled beside him. “I'm okay.”

  “What did he do to you?” he whispered. His voice was quiet, muffled even further by the palms he refused to take away from his mouth.

  “I don't – I don't wanna talk about it,” you managed.

    “Why did he do this to you?” It was a demand.

    You blinked, tears building. “You're gonna hate me if I tell you.”   Klaus shook his head again. “Don't be stupid. Don't be fucking stupid. I couldn't hate you. Ever.” He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, took a steadying breath. “Just tell me why he did it. Why now? Why after all this time?”

   “I did something wrong.”

   “Bullshit.”

  “It isn't,” you insisted. “I didn't hide the book well enough. He found it when I was sleeping, and he got angry, and...” You trailed off, concentration zoning in on Klaus. His face had gone from distraught to utterly broken in a matter of seconds.

  Your eyes widened. “No, Klaus, no. This isn't your fault.”

  He shook his head. His lower lip trembled. He stood up on shaky legs. You followed behind him, you tried to grab him, you tried to get through to him but your hands fell right through his arm and there was nothing you could do.

  “Oh fuck,” he whispered, trailing his hands through his hair. “Fuck, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. This was me. I got you that book-”

  “It wasn't you, it was me. I should have hidden it-”

  “I got you that book,” he continued. “And he killed you for it.”

  You shook your head, stumbled closer to him. “He's a psychopath, Klaus. The only person who is at fault here is him.”

   Klaus looked at you. He tried to nod, but he couldn't do it properly. He just kept his eyes trained on your own, stabilized himself against the wall, tried catching his breath even if it felt like the walls were closing in around him.

  You took another step forward. “You're the only one who can see me now.”

  He nodded, swallowed, wiped some sweat from his forehead.

  “We don't have to. . . We don't have to hide any more, do we?”

   His mouth opened just a bit. His eyes widened just a bit. His body relaxed, but just a bit.

   You were smiling. In two seconds flat, you had come from hysterically shaking your head, resisting the urge to cry, to grinning from ear to ear. It felt so wrong. It felt so inappropriate at a time like this, but for the love of god, the realisation that just crashed down upon you was enough to make your knees feel weak and you were taking it and running as soon as possible.

  “Y/N...,” Klaus mumbled. “You're the only dead person I know who's finding the positive in being dead.”

  “C-can I stay here?” you asked. “I would very much like to stay here. With you.”   His features softened. Tears still trekked down his face, and his hands still trembled, but the tension in his body dissolved as if the question had somehow hit a nerve.

  He stepped forward, reached out to touch you. He realised his mistake, inhaled a shaky breath before he let his hand drop. He looked down at the ground and nodded. “I need you to stay here with me.”

  “Need?”

  “I need you, Y/N,” he said, firmer this time. “You've been the only constant in my life for years. I can't – I can't lose that. I'll lose my fucking mind if I lose you.”

    You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Nothing seemed good enough.

  “Do you think it'll be selfish of me to keep you around?” he asked.

  You shook your head immediately. “Please keep me around.”

  He smiled. “It would be my pleasure.”

[sae-you-sae-me]

RFA + Saeran reacting to something falling into MC's shirt. Like food or an earring falling into her bra. Like would they look away? Would she get it? Hehehe thanks~

Haha, this was fun! Never did we think we would be writing the phrases “milk supporters” or “squishy mountains.” 

Zen:

You two were talking and getting into a romantic mood

He reaches out a hand to cup your cheek

His thumb brushes against the area near your ear

Unfortunately, you were wearing dangling earrings and the pressure from his thumb made one of them pop out

And it fell straight into your bra

He tries to act like it didn’t happen so you wouldn’t be embarrassed

So he goes on with his little romantic speech

But it’s not working because he’s so aware of it just…being there

You stop him at one point, “Okay, Zen. I know you saw it, and I know it’s there and it’s just really uncomfortable, so let me just–”

You turn around dig it out and toss it on the table before you two go back to what you were doing

Yoosung:

You two were watching a movie

And Yoosung likes to glance at you from time to time because he thinks you look really cute and stuff

But one of these glances he saw your necklace clasp fall and the piece of jewellery just slipped into your shirt without you noticing

He’s super flustered so he just doesn’t say anything and hopes for the best

He doesn’t get the best

After it’s done, you pat your neck, “Oh no! I lost my necklace.”

He starts to sweat nervously as you try to backtrack where it went

Eventually, he just mumbles out an apology for some reason

You ask where it is, and he just can’t get out the word “bra”

So he ends up bursting, “Check your–your–milk supporters!”

He’s definitely more embarrassed than you are at the whole incident

Jaehee:

You two were sitting across from each other at the table

You moved your head a little too fast, and your hair pin slipped into your shirt

Jaehee saw but didn’t say anything

She figured you noticed and didn’t want to reach in and get it

She was a girl too, so she knows the struggle and the embarrassment of it

But a few minutes later, you pat your head and ask where your pin went

So to make it less awkward, Jaehee just pats her own chest and clears her throat

It takes a few agonizing moments of this before you get it

You just pull back the top of your shirt and take a peek

“Oh,” you chuckle before reaching in and getting it

You two just go back to whatever you were doing

Jumin:

You two were having dinner together

And you were just talking about your day at work when your tiny earring fell down your shirt

While you’re still talking away, his brain is going through a crisis

He wants to tell you

But he doesn’t want to make it awkward

And he really doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable

He doesn’t realize he’s been weirdly staring at you this whole time

But you do and ask if there’s something wrong

In his quick thinking, he just mutters that there’s some fuzz on the top of your shirt

You shift it and thankfully the earring slips through the keyhole part of your top and onto your lap

You pick it up thinking it just fell off and completely unaware of Jumin’s struggle

He’s just happy it didn’t turn into something awkward 

Seven:

You were laying down on the couch while he was sitting at the edge

You had unscrewed your water bottle, taken a sip, and set the top on your chest

After a few minutes, you forgot about it and sat up

He saw the cap go into your shirt but he didn’t want to say anything so he looks away awkwardly

But then you start looking around for it saying you didn’t want the water to spill

He joins in your search, but he keeps muttering, “Um…um…”

You figure he knows where it is and just asks him for it

He stands there awkwardly for a second before waving his hand mysteriously

“It’s between the….squishy mountains.”

You two just stare at each other for a long while

He thinks it’s because you don’t get it you get it

So he just slowly cups his own chest

You just grab your water bottle and walk away

Saeran:

You two were just relaxing on the couch

There was some fresh cookies you two had just baked

He put on in between his teeth, but didn’t bite down yet

He reached over you to get the remote

And that’s when his teeth decided to press a little too hard on the cookie

Half of the cookie went straight down your shirt into your bra

For a few seconds, there’s just a thick heavy awkwardness

You know it’s there

He knows it’s there

He doesn’t know what to do, but he’s mortified when you reach inside and pull it out

“Five second rule counts?” you say offering it to him

He just gets up and leaves the room

Can’t look you in the eye for the rest of the day

Check out our other headcanons~ Masterlist

[ficbynic]

T A K E   C A R E  -  Chapter 14 - North London Pt. II

"Oh, my God!" Her phone told her it was nearly two in the morning. She'd been asleep for a couple of hours but Emilie was now wide awake, finally realising what had happened, whom she had been with before she dozed off. "Oh, shit," she mumbled again, sitting up straight in bed, "Oh, fucking shitting shit." Harry rolled over in bed next to her, a confused look on his face, before his low, throaty, loud voice sounded. "What's wrong?" Emilie immediately shushed him before she started whispering. "You can't be here! I can't believe I forgot, you can't fucking be here!" "What? Why not?" Harry nearly cracked a smile, surprised by Emilie's sudden outburst and swearing.   "The contract I signed! I signed a contract that specifically tells me that I'm not allowed to have overnight guests. Oh, my God!" She got up out of bed and pointlessly walked around it, heading to the kitchen and living area, pacing around the room, before she returned. "I've gotten so comfortable, I forgot the fucking contract!" 

Story page (Catch up!) | Author | Talk to me | Read on Tumblr only.

Emilie liked holding hands. It was a nice way to keep someone close. Spending her Sunday evening over at Harry's, simply sitting on the sofa, watching TV, she found herself fumbling with Harry's fingers as he sat next to her. His hands were soft and well taken care of. His nails were kept short and tidy and Emilie for some reason adored the little whites at the start of them. She'd often keep Harry close by holding his hand. In bed, or when they were just hanging out, lying on the couch, like they were now. It seemed like whenever her hands were cold, his would warm them up. And whenever she was boiling, he would cool her down. "I like your rings," she then randomly remarked, moving her finger over the collection on Harry's right hand. "You wore them big rings that one night," Harry pointed out. Emilie thought and smiled when she realised he meant the night they all went out in Golders Green. She did wear a bunch of rings that night, and she couldn't believe that Harry had even noticed let alone remembered. "Yeah. I like 'em. It's just not that practical when they aren't real and you have to take them off every time you wash your hands," Emilie explained, while still fumbling with Harry's hands, her thumb now swiping past his cross tattoo on his left hand. "Otherwise they'll... The colour will change and they'll look like shit within a week." She was more than aware of the fact Harry probably didn't know this struggle, as his rings obviously weren't cheap fake ones but (at least partly) real gold, real silver, unable to discolour. "I see." Harry looked at his own fingers again. "So which one do you like?" "The red one." "This one?" he asked, fumbling with the big chunky one he was wearing on his right index finger. Emilie nodded. She watched him take her favourite ring of his off his finger, before he handed it to her, making his finger look naked. "It's probably too big, even for your thumb," Harry commented, watching her intently. Emilie took it and tried it on all her fingers but Harry was right. Although Harry didn't necessarily have thick fingers, Emilie's were way smaller and the ring was way too wide for her to wear. "Too bad," she said, handing the band back to Harry. "You can still keep it," he offered. "If you'd like." Emilie kept silent. "That way you'll have something of mine with you whenever I'm not around." Emilie knew he meant when he would be gone again, touring the world. It only seemed like such a short while ago when the European leg finished in Milan last week. Yet she was very aware that in just a few days, Harry would be leaving for Asia. This final leg of the tour would take him from Singapore to Australia and New Zealand, before the final two shows in Japan. He'd be gone for a while. Maybe keeping something of his close wasn't such a bad idea after all, Emilie thought. "Maybe I can wear it around my necklace, that'll look cool." "Yeah," Harry agreed, "The one you always wear?" Emilie's hand went up to her chest, feeling the tiny gold chain underneath her shirt. It was a simple gold necklace, a little two centimetre golden bar in the middle of it. "My Mum gave it to me, last Christmas. Gitte has the same and Jonas has a similar one." "That's nice." "Yeah." Emilie's hands went up to the back of her neck, removing the necklace in one go. She grabbed Harry's ring again and put it on the necklace before she tried to lock the chain again, which appeared to be much more difficult than unlocking it. "Here, lemme help." Harry urged her to move her back towards him, his big hands fumbling with the necklace clasp, but succeeding in closing it properly. Emilie turned back around and inspected the piece of jewellery now feeling heavier around her neck, the big ring dangling right near the golden bar. "Looks cool," Harry complimented her, a satisfied smile on his face. ~~ Just like he often would, Harry asked Emilie if she wanted a drive back to the Village when she said she was leaving soon. And just like she often would, she declined, not minding the walk back, also not wanting to bother Harry having to leave the house to drive down and back up. But then he surprised her. "Mind if I walk with you?" "No, of course not," Emilie answered, "Why, though? "Haven't really been getting much exercise this week. I skipped training on Friday morning." Emilie thought and remembered how she'd slept over that night and spent the morning in bed with him. She then remembered when she overheard Harry talking on the phone with Jeffrey Azoff a few weeks ago and how he mentioned to him he'd skipped a training session that weekend, as well. "You shouldn't miss appointments because of me," she argued, a frown on her face. She didn't want Harry to feel like he needed to alter his plans and schedule them around the time he spent with her. "How can I leave when you're in my bed?" Emilie looked down, a small smile on her face before it quickly vanished. "Seriously, though." "No, I know. It's alright. I'll be on top of my game again when I'll be back on the road." Harry held up his arm and flexed his muscles, grinning widely. "Show-off," Emilie laughed, hitting Harry with the nearest cushion and standing up from the sofa, heading towards the hallway. They ended up walking towards the Village closely beside each other and Harry let Emilie hold his hand. Or at least, that was what it felt like to Emilie. She felt like he knew people would perhaps spot or recognise him, but for tonight, he didn't care. In reality, it was Harry who fished Emilie's hand out of the pocket of her jacket and intertwined their fingers as they walked, not even thinking twice about the few people also roaming the streets. When they arrived at the Ainsley house, Harry joined Emily all the way up the driveway, to the front door. As Emilie unlocked it, Harry started saying his goodbyes, ready to head back. But Emilie had something else in mind. "At least come in and warm up for a bit," she proposed, "Do you want a cuppa tea?" ~~ "Oh, my God!" Her phone told her it was nearly two in the morning. She'd been asleep for a couple of hours but Emilie was now wide awake, finally realising what had happened, whom she had been with before she dozed off. "Oh, shit," she mumbled again, sitting up straight in bed, "Oh, fucking shitting shit." Harry rolled over in bed next to her, a confused look on his face, before his low, throaty, loud voice sounded. "What's wrong?" Emilie immediately shushed him before she started whispering. "You can't be here! I can't believe I forgot, you can't fucking be here!" "What? Why not?" Harry nearly cracked a smile, surprised by Emilie's sudden outburst and swearing.   "The contract I signed! I signed a contract that specifically tells me that I'm not allowed to have overnight guests. Oh, my God!" She got up out of bed and pointlessly walked around it, heading to the kitchen and living area, pacing around the room, before she returned. "I've gotten so comfortable, I forgot the fucking contract!" Having 'a cuppa tea' turned into snuggling in bed and snuggling in bed turned into Emilie falling asleep in Harry's arms, aware of the fact he wasn't planning on leaving and was probably dozing off himself, but at the moment, not caring about him staying over. Now, she suddenly woke up thinking of the contract and how Harry shouldn't have been spending the night in the first place. "Relax, try to relax," Harry soothed, "No one knows I'm here. You haven't even seen the family in, like, two days." He sat up straight in bed and rubbed his eyes. "With all due respect, but they don't seem to even acknowledge your existence over the weekends," he made himself laugh, "So no one knows. No one will know I spent the night. No one will see me leaving in the morning. I will make sure they won't." Emilie still wasn't convinced. She just couldn't believe she broke the contract even though she knew it wasn't likely that David or Catherine would find out. And even if they did, she wasn't sure if it was going to be a real problem. But still! She was breaking the fucking contract! Harry shouldn't be here. Especially not when Emilie would have work in the morning. "And if they do," Harry continued, "I'll just run." Emilie snorted and laughed. "Can you imagine? What if you leave in the morning and you open my front door and you're met with David or Catherine on the driveway." "I'll make sure no one sees me." Emilie sighed. "Would you please come back to bed? I promise I'll make sure no one sees me." ~~ The buzzing sound and annoying melody of Emilie's alarm on her phone was what woke her up the next morning. Like always, she fished the phone from the floor beside the bed and hit snooze, burying her head in the pillow, allowing herself just nine more minutes. It was then when she remembered the night before and realised she wasn't alone. But the room was silent. Too silent. In a reflex, Emilie moved her leg towards the other side of the bed. She was hoping to bump into a limp leg, a bony hip maybe. But her earlier suspicion was confirmed: the room had been silent because the bed was empty. Nothing had ever made Emilie turn on the bright lights in the morning as fast as this discovery. Where did Harry go? When did he leave? Her eyes drifted off and focused on the pillow right beside hers. More importantly, they focused on the little note on top of it.   Em, In case you were actually still asleep when I talked to you and you didn't hear me, I left at around five. My inner alarm clock woke me up. Probably a sign I needed to go in order to get out of your room unnoticed. Hope you didn't need this piece of paper. Also, you're keeping a diary? Nice. Not that I read it. I didn't even peek. Good luck working today, I will text you. H  Emilie again buried her head in her pillow, stretching her body with a groan, making sense of Harry's words. He was such an idiot for leaving a handwritten note on the pillow case. But the smile on her face revealed that she secretly loved it.  She didn't hear him leave, two hours earlier. Apparently they talked, but Emilie could hardly remember. She was glad that Harry somehow noticed and decided to also leave a note. Emilie got up from bed, her warm feet turning cold the second they touched the relatively chilly floor. Walking over to the cabinet, she immediately saw where Harry'd found the piece of paper and what pen he must've used. She then spotted her diary lying to the side on top of some old magazines. He must've spotted the book-like notepad and figured it was a diary of some sorts. And he'd been correct. Emilie kept a diary since arriving in London and had so far succeeded in writing down a little something every single day. She kept track of the day (Day 1: September 23, Day 2: September 24, and so on) and wrote down what happened summary style. She trusted Harry saying he didn't peek. And she was glad to know he probably hadn't even touched it. In there, she'd written his name what felt like dozens of times already. Met Harry today. Went to have coffee with Harry in the evening. Had dinner at Harry's. Stayed over at Harry's. Harry told me this. Harry asked me that. Harry was in Berlin today. Harry invited me to Milan. There were probably more mentions of Harry's name than there were of any of the Ainsley's, even though Emilie's life pretty much revolved around Denise and Charlotte during the week. With a smile, Emilie grabbed Harry's note and tucked the piece of paper in her diary, heading towards the en-suite to take a quick shower before work. ~~ About half an hour later, Emilie arrived in the Ainsley living room. Since a few weeks, she started using the front door to enter and leave the house instead of going through the backyard and using the glass sliding doors that were now mostly locked because of the cold weather. About half an hour later, Emilie arrived in the Ainsley living room. Since a few weeks, she started using the front door to enter and leave the house instead of going through the backyard and using the glass sliding doors that were now mostly locked because of the cold weather. She made it a habit to knock on the door to the living room to announce her presence before entering. "Hi, good morning!" Catherine chanted from the kitchen. "Morning," Emilie replied, "Hi Denny, how are you? You had a nice weekend?" Denise was still tired, sitting at the table, quietly trying to eat her Weetabix. "Well," Catherine then continued, walking up to Emilie with a weird look on her face, "I certainly hope you had a good night's sleep." Emilie's stomach turned. In a flash, she could feel her temperature rising. It honestly felt like she was suddenly sweating. Did they know? Did they know Harry stayed over? Did anyone hear anything or see him leave at the crack of dawn? How did they know? He left at five, surely David wouldn't leave that early when he was out of the house before Emilie got there. Or did he? Did he hear something, then tell Catherine? Did he see Harry walking down the driveway in the middle of the night? Emilie looked at Catherine, awaiting what she was going to say. She kept quiet, feeling like she was already using her right to remain silent after having committed a crime.   "Because today will be quiet tiring, I'd imagine. Charlotte's not feeling well," Catherine then clarified, "She's been putting us through some hell over the weekend." "Oh," Emilie sighed in relief before composing herself, reacting the way she should have, "Oh. Really? What happened?" "We think it's the flu. She's been having a temperature, though, so we've given her some medicine last night. It's upstairs in the bathroom, in case you have to use it again." Emilie turned to Charlie, also sitting at the table, and noticed she didn't look like her normal, chirpy self. "She's been alright this morning, although getting her out of bed was a nightmare," Catherine continued, blinking rapidly. Emilie suddenly remembered hearing Charlie's screaming just a little while ago, all the way in her room, which barely ever happened. "She's been coughing a lot, as well. So, yeah, I think we will see how it goes today and tomorrow and if she's not feeling any better by then, we might go see a doctor." Emilie had zero experience looking after ill toddlers, so she was probably in for a treat today. Still, she felt relieved that Harry's presence in the Ainsley residence had gone by unnoticed. If being around a cranky toddler feeling poorly was going to be the price she had to pay, then so be it. ~~ The morning turned out to be a right disaster, though. Trouble started bright and early, even before eight o'clock, right after Denise finished her breakfast and it became clear that Charlotte was nowhere near ready to go. Emilie only noticed Charlie was still in her pyjama bottoms when she pulled her out of her high chair and to top it all off, her nappy was dirty. Because the clock didn't stop ticking, Catherine kind of panicked and proposed the idea of taking Denise to school by herself, so Emilie could stay in with Charlie. This way, Denise could still arrive at school on time. It actually seemed an alright idea, until Charlotte noticed her Mum and big sister were leaving and she was not having it. She started screaming unlike Emilie had ever heard before, slamming her little balled fists against the front door after Catherine and Denise left, throwing herself on the hallway floor in complete agony. There was nothing Emilie could do but wait until the tantrum was over. It was a sad sight to see, really, knowing Charlotte was only acting like this because she wasn't physically well. She had to be hurting. For all Emilie knew, she could be having a massive headache on top of her sore throat and temperature, as well. It was nearly nine o'clock when Charlotte seemed to be doing okay again. She'd finished her breakfast and Emilie succeeded in getting her into a proper outfit. Going out would probably lead to even more trouble, so Emilie decided on staying in, watching Charlotte play while the TV was on displaying an episode of Peppa Pig, still one of Charlotte's favourites. As long as she didn't specifically ask for Emilie's help or guidance, Emilie kind of left her alone to play by herself. It seemed to work, Charlie living in her own fantasy world with her dollies, probably keeping her little mind of the fact she still wasn't feeling great. When it was time for lunch, though, the screaming started again. Not to mention the yelling that took place when Emilie brought Charlie upstairs to go to bed. The bottle of milk that was thrown around the room reminded Emilie of one of her first days, back in late September, and it didn't bring along any pleasant memories. She ended up standing near Charlotte's bedroom door in the hallway again, listening to her crying. Eventually, it took about half an hour before Charlie calmed down and fell asleep. With a sigh, Emilie returned downstairs. Right when she was preparing her lunch, she felt her phone buzz in her back pocket. Hello stranger. Do I have to call you Emilie Styles yet? Assuming he's the one you've been spending all your spare time with? This is Tilda, by the way. Your Swedish friend? Just in case you already deleted my number. Despite the difficult morning, Emilie still cracked a smile reading Tilda's texts. Then she started feeling a bit guilty. She assumed she was kind of neglected Tilda a bit, as of late. She hadn't seen her in a few weeks, actually. She'd told her about going to Milan, but Emilie now realised that after returning, she had barely been in contact. Emilie coughed and swallowed hard, noticing her throat felt rather dry. Shit. She texted Tilda back and enjoyed her lunch, hoping she was imaging her own ailment, perhaps confusing her own symptoms with what she'd seen on Charlotte all morning. ~~ As the day progressed, however, the soreness of Emilie's throat only intensified and to top it all off, Charlotte didn't seem to have gotten better after her nap, either. Getting her in the buggy to pick up Denise from school was quite the challenge. Charlotte kept screaming and Emilie had to be tougher than ever. She figured using the naughty step would be quite unfair since she knew Charlotte was misbehaving because she was sick, but it still took Emilie a lot of effort to keep herself from applying the method. Especially being back at the house with Denise was dreadful. The two girls were fighting and Denise started complaining about Charlie's naughty behaviour. Emilie'd already given Charlie some medicine before her nap. Not knowing how often Catherine or David gave Charlotte medicine, Emilie figured she would just have to cope with the sick toddler for another few hours, as she didn't quite know if she would be allowed to give her medication more than once a day, despite the label on the packaging specified it would be alright for toddlers. It would've been another mind-blogging thing that would annoy the hell out of Emilie, if it wasn't for the fact it was then when she received a text message from Harry. Can I see you tonight? Hi. I'm actually not feeling well. Charlie must've infected me with the flu. I'm gonna be in bed early, sorry. Sorry you're feeling poorly. Can I stop by for a little just to say hi? A smile appeared on Emilie's face. At your own risk ;) I'm gonna have an early dinner with the girls, I'll be at "mine" at around seven. See you later .x ~~ At ten past seven, Emilie heard a knock on her front door. Knowing who was knocking made her move from her bed a bit quicker than she would've normally, eager to see him despite feeling a little poorly. "Hi," Harry smiled down at her the second the door opened. "Hi." "I would hug you but I'm a bit sweaty," he admitted, "These are for you." Emilie's face lit up the second she saw the bouquet of pink roses Harry was holding up. She recognised the florist's name on the paper wrapped around the bouquet and knew Harry had to have taken a longer route around the Village to buy them. The florist wasn't on the way from his house to the Ainsley's. "Ugh, thank you," she gushed, taking the bouquet from him as he offered it, "That's so sweet of you." Harry smiled and held his hand through his hair.  "I was actually hoping I could use your shower to freshen up so I could stay for a bit," he said, holding up a backpack he also carried. "I brought clean clothes." "Oh. Of course, sure. Come in." Emilie opened the door, simultaneously giving herself a pat on the shoulder because, despite her physical state, she managed to make sure the bathroom wasn't a complete mess after showering this morning. "You have been warned, though. I'm still feeling a bit under the weather." "I'll take my chances," Harry chuckled. Harry closed the door behind him and Emilie grabbed a can out of the kitchen cupboard, filled it with water, and put the flowers in it. She didn't exactly have a vase, but this would work just fine. "They're lovely," she admired the sight, "Thank you." "No worries. So how are you? What were you doing?" Harry asked, taking off his light grey Danny's Donuts hoodie that had become familiar to Emilie over the weeks since he often wore it. Underneath, he had on a big, white T-shirt. Underneath the T-shirt he wore a tight black long-sleeved workout shirt. "Nothing, really. Just lying around." "Tough day?" "It gets tough when you don't feel physically well, yeah," Emilie admitted, "I probably haven't been that nice to the girls today." "I'm sorry you're feeling shit," Harry empathised, "You said Charlie's infected you?" "Yeah, she's quite ill. I was fine this morning, but I started feeling worse when Charlie was up in bed, around lunch time. I think she only needed those couple of hours in the morning to infect me." "Is she getting any better?" "Not really, I don't think. She's got it pretty bad. I hope it doesn't fully get to me." Meanwhile, Emilie walked over to the bed. Harry remained standing in front of it. "Use whatever you need," Emilie motioned towards the en-suite, understanding he wanted to take a shower straight away, "There's clean towels in the little cabinet." "Thanks. Won't take long."  Emilie got back underneath the duvet and heard the water pouring down in the shower cabin a few moments later. The fact she wasn't feeling well didn't keep the thought of Harry being naked in her bathroom right now out of her mind. She imagined the sight of it and had to take a deep breath to come to her senses. The things this boy would do to her. Like he promised, he was all done by just ten minutes. Just a quick wash and he was back in her room again, now wearing a different jumper and clean joggers. "Can I join you?" "Of course," Emilie replied, already opening the blanket for him to slide underneath it. It didn't take long for him to lie closely beside her, his hair still quite wet. "Had a nice shower?" Harry nodded. "I smell like you now," he smiled, referring to the body wash and shampoo he must've used. "I like it." Emilie shook her head, reaching out to grab her iPad that was still lying at the end of the bed. "Wanna put on a film or something?" She handed him the tablet. "Sure. What d'you wanna watch?" Harry asked, swiping across the iPad. If Emilie was in a better mood she would've joked about the intro of Harry's song Woman. Her sore throat and stuffed nose were keeping her from making the funny remark. As they settled on some documentary Harry said he heard good things about, they got comfortable. Harry had wrapped his arm around her shoulders as Emilie lay against his chest. He had pressed his mouth to her temple a few times before he used his free hand to cup Emilie's chin to turn her face in an attempt to lock lips, apparently not caring that much about the doc anymore. "Don't." Harry pouted. The smile on Emilie's face told him it was alright to ignore her comment. He tried to kiss her again. "You don't wanna do that, I'm serious," Emilie argued again. Harry sighed and stopped his advances. "I'll be alright, a little kiss won't hurt me." He knew Emilie was holding back because she was afraid of infecting him and getting him poorly, as well. "You need your voice." "I'll be fine." "Let's not take any risks and let me recover tonight so I can properly kiss you tomorrow," Emilie answered. Harry's eyes lit up again. "You're coming 'round mine tomorrow?" "Yeah? If that's okay with you." "It always is," he responded, "You know that." ~~  Not only because Emilie wasn't feeling well, but also because she told Harry about how scary it had been to be confronted with Catherine in the morning thinking she knew about the sleeping over, Harry didn't stay over this time. He left at around ten, when he started noticing Emilie was nearly falling asleep. It was only for the better and Emilie was glad to wake up feeling in good health the next morning. Her headache was gone and her throat already felt better. She figured she had done well by taking some medicine and getting a full night's sleep after an early night in. That didn't mean that work had been a walk in the park. Charlotte was still miserable. Emilie noticed that it was now affecting Denise, as well. Charlie basically needed every ounce of Emilie's attention and Denise was feeling left out, ending up faking her own illness by the end of the afternoon, producing weird sounds and calling them coughs, indicating her throat was just as sore as Charlotte's. Luckily, though, it somehow managed to make Charlie smile. She was amused by her big sister making weird noises and Emilie was glad to see the twinkle in her eyes again that had been missing for the past two days. Hopefully, by tomorrow, she would be feeling a lot better. Emilie was glad. She wouldn't know how to go through another day of taking care of a sick toddler. She was already exhausted. When David arrived home at around half past six, Emilie therefore quickly excused herself and called Harry, letting him know she would arrive in a bit. Because Harry insisted she didn't walk all the way over towards the Heath, he'd driven down to the Village to pick her up by car. When they'd returned to Harry's house, they quickly ended up on the sofa, enjoying the comfort of multiple blankets and the warmth of steamy teas. It was the best way to relax after a tiring day, until Emilie remembered it was going to be the last night she would be able to spend with Harry for a while. "So when are you leaving exactly?" "Tomorrow, baby," Harry answered, playing with her blonde hair. "Yeah, but when?" Emilie talked over the fluttering butterflies in her stomach that were prominent whenever Harry used pet names. She was lying against his chest and hoped he didn't notice he made her heart skip a beat. "I'm flying from Heathrow at around eleven," Harry yawned, "In the morning." Emilie nodded in reply, trying to ignore the weird feeling in her gut. But Harry noticed. "What's wrong?" "I'm- Nothing, I-" "You said you were feeling better?" Emilie was. Physically, she was doing okay. The medication had done its work, or at least, she hoped. This wasn't about the flu or a cold. "I'm just gonna miss you, is all," Emilie admitted, crawling even closer into him, her hand fidgeting with the hem of the grey shirt he was wearing. She was glad that she could avoid eye contact because of the way she was laying against him. Harry inhaled and exhaled deeply. "You don't have to miss me. We'll stay in touch. I'll call when I get the time." He rubbed her back. "And besides, I'll be back in two weeks. There's hardly time to miss me." "Two and a half weeks," Emilie corrected. She'd remembered the last tour date would be Tokyo and Harry wouldn't get back until the ninth of December, the tenth if he didn't make the first plane home. Harry chuckled. "You're cute. You know two weeks is nothing, right? Milan was already about two weeks ago, look how quickly my time off tour went by." That's because I got to spend a lot of time with you, Emilie thought. Truth of the matter was that she wasn't looking forward to the next few weeks. Not at all. She was feeling all kinds of weird. She was still wary about her physical condition, feeling unsure about having beaten the early stages of the flu. Then again, it wasn't strange that Emilie's resistance to disease had gone a bit south. The past couple of weeks had been ruthless, with first Denise being off school and then Charlotte being a genuine nightmare for the past few days. Emilie knew it was going to take its toll on her. In a way, with December already approaching, it was very weird to come to the realisation that her time in London was coming to an end. The fact that two out of three months had already gone by, was crazy. It was all very bittersweet. On the one hand, Emilie was so proud of herself for having made the decision to go to London in the first place, and she was happy with how everything panned out and how she had found her own place within the family and how well everything was going with the girls, generally speaking. She couldn't wait for Christmas, to see her family again and to tell them all about her London adventures, the places she'd seen, the things she'd experienced and the people she'd met. But on the other hand, Emilie felt like she was just finally getting used to living in London and she was nowhere near ready for her time in the Big Smoke to end. Looking back, it really took her quite some time to fully get settled and now that she was, it seemed a bit silly to leave after "just" three months. Truth of the matter was that most of the time, she didn't want to leave. She didn't want to go back home in about a month, as she didn't have anything to come home to. She knew that the next chapter of her life would start in the New Year and would involve finding a proper job and figuring out all of that stuff, and she wasn't looking forward to it, not at all. In that regard, Christmas was approaching and it was approaching quickly. Harry would probably return on the tenth of December and then they would have less than two weeks together. It was just a really shitty prospect that Emilie didn't like one bit. She had no idea how she was going to make it through knowing she was going to leave London on Saturday the twenty-third, just a few days before Christmas. Another deep sigh escaped from her lips. She honestly felt like crying. "Hey. Don't be like that. You're fine." Harry tightened and loosened his grip on her as a means to nudge her. "It's hard sometimes," Emilie defended, "The girls have been really difficult the past few days with Charlie having the flu and... It gets quite lonely during the day. The weather's shit. We're inside and the girls get bored quicker." Emilie's thoughts drifted off to tomorrow and she could already picture herself having to improvise and come up with something that would entertain the kids and kill some hours. She was running out of ideas. "It's so nice to spend time with you in the evening, it's such a nice distraction from everything else and-" "I'm a distraction?" Harry interrupted, his eyebrows rising. "You know I don't mean it like that, it's just that... Uggghhh," Emilie groaned. "Come here," Harry chuckled, "You promised me we'd catch up on our kisses we missed out on last night." Emilie looked up to him. It was weird how the look in his eyes was able to alter hers. A tiny smile fought its way upon her face, despite the sadness that was filling up her body. "Come here," he repeated in a whisper and waited until Emilie closed the limited distance between them. Harry kissed her soft and long and patiently, as if there wasn't a ticking clock in the back of her mind, as if he wasn't going to be on a plane tomorrow morning, as if he wasn't leaving her for two and a half weeks when their time together was already limited to begin with. He kissed her as if nothing could ever come between them, as if nothing could ever tear them apart. A sigh escaped her lips when she realised how much Harry meant to her. She'd only felt the same way about one other guy before; the guy who'd turned out to be her boyfriend for a year and a half. She smiled, letting the feeling wash over her. "Why are you good at everything you do?" "What?" Harry increased the distance between them a bit and laughed. "Singing, writing, acting, kissing..." Emilie listed. "Babe, you ain't seen nothing yet," he answered in a weird accent, making Emilie cackle out a laugh before she planted her lips on his again. She could feel that he was smiling. She buried her head into Harry's chest after letting go of him, his arms tightly wrapped around her. "I wish you didn't have to go," she admitted. "It's my job," Harry breathed, "I love my job." "I know. And I'm glad you do." She looked up at him, inspecting his stunning features. His perfect, green eyes. His pink lips. The freckles on his face she'd already memorised. "You were meant to be on a stage." If she hadn't been sure of that before, Milan certainly showed her. An hour or so later, it was time to head back. Again, Harry wouldn't let Emilie walk home, insisting on driving her down to the Village because he didn't want her to be out in the cold late at night. The drive down was quiet. Emilie didn't know if Harry was aware of it, but he hadn't turned on the radio. The previous time Emilie had been in a car with him, there was music quietly playing. Now, it was silent and it seemed like the both of them didn't quite know what to say up until Harry pulled up right in front of the Ainsley residence. "Thanks for the drive." "No problem. Thanks for coming over," Harry replied, "It was nice." "Have a safe flight tomorrow. Can you text me when you land?" "Of course." He reached out to grab Emilie's hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles. "I will." "Alright." "Alright, sweet dreams. We'll talk in the morning." Emilie nodded, unlocking her seatbelt and reaching for the door handle. But there was still something she needed to get off her chest. "I'll miss you." "You don't have to," he replied. They said their goodbyes and Harry promised to text or call whenever he could. He kept the car in park until Emilie had walked up to her front door and he saw her opening it. With one last wave, he then drove off. Emilie was left with a hollow feeling in her stomach. She figured that Harry was used to saying goodbye by now, but still, it would've meant a lot if he told her he'd miss her, too.   | < Previous chapter | Next chapter > | | Story page | Author | Talk to me |

[rumaan]

“If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed” for married!Yousana, please.

Also on AO3

“If you don’t stop looking at my like that then we won’tmake it a bed,” Yousef murmured just loud enough for her to hear.

Shaking her head, Sana was finally able to tear her eyesaway from her handsome husband. It wasn’t her fault that he looked so good in asuit, but wore them so rarely that every time he did she was completelyincapable of keeping her gaze away from him.

Surreptitiously looking around to see if anyone else hadnoticed just how much she was been staring at Yousef rather than concentratingon her brother’s wedding, she was pleased to note that everyone else wasfocused on Elias and Malika – as they should be.

It was a beautiful wedding with pretty much the whole ofOslo’s Moroccan community in attendance. It was good to see Elias happy. He’dbeen through a lot in the last couple of years; struggling to find his role notonly in society but also in their family. He was the only one who wasn’tinterested in Medicine and who wasn’t particularly academic. It had derailedhim for a few years, leading into a spiral of drinking and going nowhere. Butthat had all changed when he’d gotten a job working with troubled teens, whichhad led into social work and meeting Malika, a lawyer, and here he was, gettingmarried and happy with himself.

Plus, all the attention being directed towards the bride andgroom gave her some leeway to tease her husband.

“It’s not my fault you look so hot.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his fingers reaching out and pinching herplayfully on the hip.

She let out a gasp of laughter and squirmed away, sendinghim a scolding look. He shouldn’t use her weaknesses in public and he knew justhow ticklish she was.

“Hey! Where’s my beautiful wife going?” Yousef asked with apout, snaking his hand around her waist and pulling her back against him. “So,how long do we have to be here?”

Leaning up and pressing a quick kiss on his cheek, shereplied, “I’m his sister and you’re his best friend. We can’t sneak out early.”

“Moroccan weddings are sooooo long,” he complained. “Europeanshave it figured out. A meal, a couple of hours dancing and then home.”

Sana laughed. “Funny because I distinctly remember when wewere discussing our wedding that you were vehemently against us having aEuropean style reception. I think your exact words were “Moroccan or bust.”

“That’s because I got to be speechless about how beautifulyou are three times,” he said, bending down and kissing her forehead. “I don’treally care to watch Elias gawp over Malika each time she comes back in a newkaftan.”

“Elias probably said the same thing about you.”

“I believe his words were, ‘Yousef, have some self-controland stop staring at Sana with so much heat. That’s my sister, man.’”

“And you listened of course.”

Yousef smiled cheekily at her. “Nope, I told him that Iwould look at my wife any way I wanted to.”

She still thrilled at the sound of wife coming out of hismouth eighteen months later. Sometimes it felt like a dream that they actually gotmarried. Sometimes she woke up early in the morning and before she opened hereyes was convinced that she was back in her old room with the blue walls andthe Tupac poster and feeling all the pain and heartbreak of thinking that Yousefwas dating Noora. But then she would open her eyes and would see him sleepingnext to her and her heart would go into overdrive at how lucky she was to havefound him.

“And I’ll look at my husband any way I like,” she saidgiving him a sultry look.

“Hmm…but I can’t be held accountable for my actions if youlook at me like that. And I doubt you want to scandalise your brother’swedding.”

Her cheeks reddened and she bit her lip a little, her eyesdropping to his mouth and she wanted nothing more than to push him up againstthe wall and kiss him until she couldn’t feel her face anymore.

“Sana!” he said warningly, his voice a tad huskier and hisgaze heated.

“There you are!” Jamilla’s bright voice said and they jumpeda little way apart like naughty children found doing something they shouldn’tbe.

Her heart pounded heavily in her chest as she turnedhurriedly away from Yousef and looked towards her eldest sister-in-law with anoverly bright smile. It’s stupid to feel guilty – they were married both in theeyes of Allah and accordingly to the Norwegian government, but there was stilla tug of anxiety in her stomach at the thought of anyone knowing just how muchshe desired Yousef and she found herself thinking up of an excuse for why theymight be whispering to each other in the corner.

“Jamilla. Does Malika need me? I was just telling Yousefthat I might have to leave him in the clutches of my uncles.”

From the amused expression on Jamilla’s face then she wasn’tat all fooled for a moment by Sana’s words. “Nope. You’re both actually needed.Somehow we forgot the jewellery we were gifting Malika and it goes with the redkaftan she’s going to wear next. Can you run home and get it? She’s going to bechanging again in about an hour.”

Yousef grabbed her hand eagerly and said enthusiastically,“Sure! We can do that. An hour you say?”

Sana went completely red at how obvious his words were andshe shot Jamilla a quick look to see if she’d noticed. Of course her cleversister-in-law had and she was clearly trying her hardest not to laugh in theirfaces.

As if sensing Sana’s embarrassment, Jamilla leaned forward,kissed her cheek and said, “Remember how Ridwan and I disappeared for a whileat your wedding?”

She nodded, remember how irritated Elias had been becauseRidwan was meant to bring back the tiara Sana was wearing for her big whitedress but had taken ages, delaying her change.

“That’s because your mum deliberately forgot to bring thetiara to give us an excuse to leave for a while.”

“Really?” Sana asked, wide eyed in shock.

“Yep. And I’d say she’s done the same this time,” Jamillasaid with a grin before adding to Yousef, “Don’t rush back. There’s no hurry.”

“We won’t!” he replied cheerfully and tugged Sana out of thehall where the reception was taking place.

[paganinpurple]

I was tagged by @overworkedunderwhelmed and totally forgot about this so here it is, better late than never.

🎀 - Are you named after someone?  *facepalms* Yes. My dad is a huge comic book fan and has the largest collection in the UK. I’m Kara because I’m named after Supergirl. My brother is called Kal, after Superman. True story.

🎀 - When was the last time you cried? 20 minutes ago? My back and hips are being very difficult today and I over reached and had a little cry over the pain.

🎀 - Do you like your handwriting? I don’t really feel strongly about it at all. It’s tiny though. I get 20 words to a line.

🎀 - What is your favourite lunch meat?  Uh, I dunno. Southern friend chicken roll maybe.

🎀 - Do you have kids? A seven year old daughter.

🎀 - If you were a different person, would you be friends with you? That’s...kinda a loaded question. If I was a different person would I have anything in common with me? Would I be a nice person who liked me or some kind of nasty person who looked down on me? I dunno how to answer that.

🎀 - Do you use sarcasm? Who, me!? Never! [/sarcasm]

🎀 - Do you still have your tonsils? Yup

🎀 - Would you bungee jump? With my anxiety!?

🎀 - What’s your favorite cereal? I don’t really eat breakfast so I don’t really have a favourite.

🎀 - Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? I hardly ever wear laced shoes but when I do I tend to need to untie them ‘coz they’re too tight otherwise.

🎀 - Do you think you’re a strong person? Physically? Not really. Mentally? Emotionally? I struggle but I’m still here so I guess I shoulder more than most and still get by. That takes strength I think.

🎀 - What’s your favorite ice cream? Extra creamy vanilla.

🎀 - What’s the first thing you notice about someone? Hair. It’s my thing to have exciting hair so I look at other people’s too.

🎀 - What’s your least favorite physical thing about yourself? The constant pain in my back and hips.

🎀 - What color trousers and shoes are you wearing right now? I have on black leggins and I’m barefoot right now.

🎀 - What are you listening to right now?  I’m visiting my mum and dad so they have Mamas & the Papas on

🎀 - If you were a crayon, what color would you be? PURPLE. My life is purple.

🎀 - Favorite smell? Mango scented body products.

🎀 - Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? A woman from work.

🎀 - Favorite sport to watch? 

🎀 - Hair color? Right now? Pinkish purple. Really, really bright pinkish purple.

🎀 - Eye color?  Blue

🎀 - Do you wear contacts? No, I hate them. But I do wear specs.

🎀 - Favorite food? PIZZA!

🎀 - Scary movies or comedy? I used to love scary movies but they just don’t do it for me anymore. But I still love comedy.

🎀 - Last movie you watched? Deadpool.

🎀 - What color shirt are you wearing? It’s a dress and it’s a purple coloured flower print.

🎀 - Summer or Winter? Summer. I don’t cope well in the cold and our Summers usually aren’t that hot.

🎀 - Hugs or kisses? Hugs. Definitiely hugs.

🎀 - Book you’re currently reading? Nothing really. I’m refreshing my memory of Deathnote for comic club though.

🎀 - Who do you miss right now? No one. I’ve got my daughter, and I’ve seen all my friends and close family recently.

🎀 - What’s on your mouse pad? It’s a track pad so I don’t have a mouse, never mind a mouse-pad.

🎀 - What’s the last tv program you watched? iZombie.

🎀 - What is the best sound? I dunno. The sound of someone cleaning my house for me?

🎀 - What’s the furthest you’ve ever traveled? Canada with Egypt in second place.

🎀 - Do you have a special talent? Creativity I guess? I write, draw (not well), sew a little, make edits and posters, I make jewellery and badges etc.

🎀 - Where were you born? Dundee, Scotland where I live now.

I have no idea who to tag. Screw that lol