#i felt like that image of a woman surrounded by cakes not knowing which to eat

[xxblairexxss]

My girl

Pairing : Mason Mount x plussize!reader

Theme : Angst (idk 😭) / fluff

Requested.

I’m not sure if I did justice to your request, anon. I hope I did. I can’t make it 100% igau because I always feel the need to elaborate more so igau alone won’t make me feel satisfied. Sorry about that… oh and I used olenia as face claim because her settings made it easier for me to use, I’m sorry if she’s not what you imagine the reader to be 😭

masonmount

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masonmount 1 year. She’s the reason I get up in the morning. She makes me feel enough and stop doubting myself. I don’t know what I’d do without her. Thank you for giving me a chance to be loved by you, darling.

username WE HAVE WAITED FOR A YEAR GIVE US PROPER PIC

username aww this is cute i wish we get to see her

sophiaaemelia i miss u guys!!

ynusername

Liked by masonmount, sophiaaemelia and 3627 others

ynusername Thank you for choosing me and loving me. I love you so much! ❤️

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You met Mason through a mutual friend. When he first approached you, you made it clear that you were not interested and if he was looking for a girl to play around, he could count you out but he insisted for you to go out with him for just one date and you could be the one to decide about the next one, either you wanted him to leave you alone or you wanted to give it another chance.

Mason was really nice. You thought he would be a cocky guy, thinking he was above everyone but he was everything but that. Your first date with him was an unanticipated one, you wasn’t hoping for anything but he really knew the way to win your heart.

And that was how he became your first ever boyfriend.

You refused to talk about this matter a lot but another reason why you had a hard time to accept Mason into your life was because you didn’t believe he would fell in love with someone like you. He was surrounded by models, social media influencers, heck, even some of his fans have ‘better’ body image than you. Sure, you don’t like to talk badly about yourself but it was hard not to do so when you were raised in a society that set an inconceivable image on women.

Mason knew about this though you rarely talked about it which was why he respected your decision to not have your face posted on his social media accounts.

“Mase…..can we agree on one thing?”

“What is it, sweetheart?” Mason took a step forward and took your shaking hand in his to leave a peck on your fingers. He had realised you were being quit this whole day so he asked you to have a cooking session together because he knew you loved trying out new recipes.

“I don’t want you to post my face on your social media.”

“Okay.”

“That’s it…? You are not gonna ask why?” You immediately looked up to look at him, his answer made you stunned.

“I know the reason why, baby and I know you don’t like talking and explaining about it so I’m not gonna ask.”

“Are you mad…?”

“Mad? Silly, why would I get mad at you?” He chuckles and enveloped your figure in his arms, your head fitted perfectly around his forearm and he loved it so much. “I am not mad at you, baby. I just..I can’t…how do I put this in words. I can’t tell you to stop hating on yourself because I don’t know what you actually feel like. I’m not in your shoes. I don’t know what it felt like to grow up as a woman who was constantly being told by the society that you have to look this and that to be called pretty.”

And you heart bursted, not because he made you feel heartbroken, but because of the huge amount of love you felt for him.

“But I know very well how it felt like waking up in the morning being greeted by the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, I know how it felt like falling in love everytime I see your captivating smile when we successfully tried a new recipe, I know how it felt like when my heart swelled in pride seeing how you got excited over cookies or cakes because you loved sweets. You are my girl and it’s my job to make you feel appreciated, to cherish and admire you. I won’t push you to step over your comfort zone if you are not ready, you know that, don’t you?”

ynusername

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ynusername life lately 🤍

username girl are you holding mason at gunpoint

username mount is embarrassed to be ur bf

username maybe you should start following mason’s diet plan

masonmount my darling ❤️

masonmount

Liked by ynusername, kaihavertz29 and 674,598 other

masonmount cheat day with my favourite girl 🍕❤️

username lmao if i were you i would have starved her

masonmount You have no right to comment about how I treat my girlfriend.

username i bet everyday is a cheat day for her 😭

username can she even fit your hoodie lololol

username IM CRYING 😭😭😭

You did read the nasty comments but it didn’t made you cry. Probably because you were used to it, not sure if that made it any better but there were days where it made you stared at yourself in the mirror hating every single part of your body, there were days where you had no appetite no matter how famished you were but Mason would always made it better, it was as if he could read your mind.

Mason did in fact could read your mind like an open book. He knew when your smile had a hidden meaning, he knew it when you looked at him and he could see all those black clouds hovering your head but he never pointed it out. He knew you didn’t like to talk about it so he helped you through his acts.

“Hi there, princess. What are you staring at?” Mason came home to see you standing in front of the mirror, hands on your hips and you just looked so broken. He stood by your side, arms wrapped around your waist to pull you close and you leaned on his chest in response and heaved a sigh.

“Nothing, Mase..”

“Do you wanna bake something tonight? It’s Friday. We always bake something on Friday.”

“Can we skip it tonight? I don’t feel like it…”

“Remember the beignets we saw from Princess and the Frog last night? I found the recipe on Tiktok.”

“Really?!” Your face instantly lit up and turned to look at him. You had told Mason how much you craved for the beignets but non of the recipes looked legit.

“Yeah! I think we have the ingredients already. Wanna give it a try?”

“Yes! Yes, please!” You squealed and hugged him, causing him to stumble back from the sudden change of mood.

So, beignets were your recipe of the week.

It was a success, which was a surprise. So now you have a plate of beignets and ‘Princess and the Frog’ on play.

“You know, princess..” Mason spoke all of sudden which caught you by surprise. The audio from the movie is now long forgotten.

“Yeah…?”

“You know how you always told me you wondered why I chose you over anyone else? I wished you could see yourself from my point of view because when I tell you how perfect you are, how beautiful you are, I mean every single words I said. And I’m not talking about your appearance alone, you have such a good heart, Y/N. We used to meet up with Jason, our mutual friend, at the same old club, remember? One day I walked outside the club to get some fresh air and I saw you rummaging through your handbag just to give a heat pack to an old man who was walking home from a night shift. The other time I met you outside the club, you were calling out to this stray cat and I thought to myself, what the heck is she doing this time. Turned out you got a small pack of cat food, again, in your handbag so I saw you feeding the cat to which I had to stand on guard nearby because you were so busy talking to the cat that you paid no attention to your surrounding.” He poked on your nose which made you chuckled.

“It frustrated me so much that those people on the internet never bothered to know you, the real you that made me fell in love. I just— I wished I could just grab their heads and let them know what kind of person you are. It pained me to just constantly having to see all those comments on yours and my accounts because you didn’t deserve it, heck, no one deserved that but you told me to not entertain any of them because it would be like fighting with a wall. I always remember you told me to not fight with someone who speaks with their ears closed so I held myself but it’s just..”

“It’s okay, Mase. You have been the biggest help I could ever asked for. I think it was kinda hard for me to think that none of them actually have powers against me because I felt like they would always win but all this time, I have always won. I have a boyfriend who always made me see my worth every single day, a boyfriend who never missed to compliment me every day, a boyfriend who always respected me and I think I’ll manage…with you by my side.”

“Always, baby. You can always count on me.” He wiped your tears off and cupped your cheeks to brush his lips against yours. A single kiss turned into two, three, and a shower of kisses all over your face which caused both you and Mason to giggle at it together.

masonmount

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masonmount I know how hard the internet has been on her and I know no matter how strong of a person she is, one can only bear too much before it break you down. Y/N is one of the strongest person I know and to see her breaking down from the comments that were quick to judge on her based on how she looked broke my heart. I am no saint and best believe, I don’t even deserve to be with someone as quintessential as her so if there was one who deserved to be judged, it should be me, not her. Please be respectful towards my girlfriend, and everyone else as everything you comment would linger in someone’s mind for god knows how long.

Comments on this post have been limited.

ynusername

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ynusername Life has been pretty rough lately but I was blessed with this man to help me through day and night. 🧸🤎

masonmount My beautiful princess ❤️

username WELCOME BACK MY QUEEN

username YOU ARE BEAUTIFUUULL

username i wish i have your confidence

username girl fck off ur just ugly no amount of confidence can fix it

ynusername

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ynusername surrender to my vision 👑

masonmount my girl

username QUEEN

username I FCKING LOVE YOU IM NOT EVEN KIDDING

username 😍😍😍😍

[bogkeep]

what is your favorite Oh Hellos album?

[scandalized gasp] you want me to pick a FAVOURITE album???????? i cannot

short answer: the albums all have different vibes and i love all of them in their own way and cannot quantify it enough to list them comprehensively, especially the anemoi EPs have a strong Do Not Separate vibe for me

longer answer: i own a physical version of Every Album, including the christmas album, which may very well be the only christmas album i will ever own. if i remember correctly, i got into the oh hellos in 2015, just at the cusp of dear wormwood's release. my exposure to them were people including their songs on 8tracks playlists (OH 8tracks, i miss you...), and while i Liked them i didn't get Hooked until i heard 'where is your rider' at which point i ended up listening to both of their big albums for their own merit and not just playlist pieces. since then, every EP release has sort of occupied a very strong emotional space in my life at each time, so it's like... i can't scalpel it out of that.

THAT SAID i can list my fave tracks from each album...! at the time of writing at least. music faves is a shifting beast.

THE OH HELLOS EP: lay me down; trees

THROUGH THE DEEP DARK VALLEY: like the dawn; eat you alive; second child, restless child; wishing well; in memoriam; the lament of eustace scrubb; the valley (reprise)

DEAR WORMWOOD: bitter water; exeunt; where is your rider; thus always to tyrants

NOTOS: on the mountain trail; torches; notos; new river

EURUS: o sleeper; grow; hieroglyphs; passerine

BOREAS: cold; boreas; glowing

ZEPHYRUS: rio grande; soap

[sweeethinny]

Come and sit a while with me

It's been a year since I started all of this, that I wrote a fanfic to celebrate Ginny's birthday, and here I am, posting once again, keeping the tradition <3

This story will deal with grief, suicidal thoughts, but it has a happy ending, I swear

Happy birthday, Ginny.

AO3 | FF. NET | SIYE

----------

It was a normal afternoon at the Potters' house, Ginny wasn't working today and the kids were on vacation, James had gone out with friends, Lily was at the pool with her friends, and she and Albus were enjoying their free time before they had to get ready to go out to dinner and celebrate Ginny's birthday, so they lay on the sofa in the living room, both of them with moisturizing masks on their faces and hair, and the TV on.

The perfect day for her, if she was sincere.

"Mom," Albus muttered, looking at her curiously. "When did you know you loved dad?"

''I always loved your dad.''

''No… when did you know you really love him?'' Albus looked at her, his hair in a bun and his green eyes staring at her in the same way he had since he was born, as if he wanted to know the whole truth, and not half lies. "I mean, when did you look at him and realize he wasn't just another one?"

''Let me see…'' Ginny changed the channel when the movie ended, trying not to smile at the memory. ''I guess I never thought he was just another one, but there was a specific day when I was sure he was the one I wanted to marry…''

August 11, 1998

Ginny loved birthdays, it was simply her favorite date, along with Christmas.

How could anyone not be happy on the day that was entirely and unique to them? Everything revolved around her: the cake, the celebration, the attention, everything. It was her day, the day that Ginny didn't share with anyone, and even though she sometimes felt a bit of a bitch about it, she was glad none of her brothers were born on the same day as her..

She didn't want to have to share this too.

But today wasn't that happy day. Today wasn't sunny and as much as Molly had become more involved in her garden, Ginny's favorite flowers hadn't bloomed in time, as if they knew she was in mourning.

It was the first time that someone would be missing at the party.

Even Charlie called her over the Floo so everyone could sing together and celebrate, but today, it would be eight Weasleys for the first time, not nine. And Ginny didn't know how to deal with that, with that pain that seemed to consume her in every way, and that made her close the bedroom curtains and hide under the covers because she was exhausted.

Exhausted from fighting. Of having to be strong. Not being able to afford the privilege of just crying and admitting it hurt. It hurt a lot. At times it seemed almost impossible to bear. Ginny wanted for the first time in a long while, someone to take over things for her, letting her sleep and cry freely, without judgment, without trying to fix what was broken.

She didn't want a solution.

But she couldn't do that, Molly was doing her best to make this date happy, so that Ginny would realize that there was reason to celebrate, that Fred wouldn't want her to spend all day in her room. She also thought this was unfair, because Fred didn't have to bury one of them, Fred didn't have to go through grief, he never faced that pain, so what would he know?

Ginny knew. She knew what it was like to want to die every day since he died, she was the one who felt this agonizing loneliness that seemed to get bigger every day, she was the one who lay in bed at night and thought she could go crazy at any time because it hurt so much and it was so exhausting.

"May I come in?" A knock on her door made her jump as she tried to hide her dark circles with some of the makeup she had on, and his voice made her curse herself for still being in her pajamas.

''Yes.'' She tried to hide her nervousness because things were still a little awkward between her and Harry, even though she had kissed him a few days after the war ended, on the sofa in the living room in the middle of the night, when her room looked very cold and lonely, and Harry looked so cute wearing plaid pajamas and with his hair cut.

He clearly blamed himself for Fred's death, and Ginny still hadn't gotten over all the latest events: the Carrows' tortures, the war, the deaths, Fred…

Ginny had certain doubts, even though she didn't like to think about it, that they would last.

Maybe they were that couple that everyone looks at and says 'what if life had been different with these two?', figuring they could be something more if there hadn't been so much destruction in their midst.

"Happy birthday." Harry still looked tired, he hadn't regained his weight, but he was already showing signs of improvement, which was good. Ginny was happy to see him look good.

He was wearing the outfit she helped him buy for his birthday when they, Ron and Mione went for a walk in Muggle London. A light blue T-shirt, dark jeans, and black sneakers. A simple outfit, no big deal, but one that seemed to make him look even more handsome, if that was even possible.

The woman who would marry him would be very lucky, Ginny thought.

''Brought it for you.'' She hadn't even noticed that he had his hands behind his back, looking nervous as he showed her a bouquet of honeysuckle, tied with a red satin bow, and a cream-colored card pinned there with his name signed. "I know they're your favorites, and I thought you'd like it." He smiled awkwardly. "I noticed yours didn't bloom this year, and I thought you might want to continue the tradition."

"You didn't have to worry about that." Ginny had to swallow hard to keep from crying in front of him, even though there wasn't a reason to.

"Of course I did, it's your birthday, I want to see you happy." Harry shrugged, his cheeks flushing as if he'd been out in the sun for hours on end. He was so cute, Ginny wished she didn't like him so much, because that way, when their imminent separation came, it wouldn't hurt so much. ''How is your day? I don't want to spoil the surprise, but I think your mom made your favorite cake.''

"It's okay, as far as possible," she shrugged. "Mom is trying to keep me away from the kitchen and all the preparation, so I decided to stay in the bedroom."

''Are you going to be here until party time?'' She thought Harry would start the same speech Hermione gave her when she said she was going to do it, which was the same as Bill and his father: Fred wouldn't like it. Besides, you need to celebrate that you're alive, enjoy life…

Ginny was ready to fight with him, just as she had with the three of them.

"Is there a problem?" Ginny crossed her arms, careful not to crush the flowers.

Harry was bigger than her, but that wouldn't stop her from kicking him out if necessary.

''No. Want company?" Harry looked sincere though. "We can assemble that puzzle you bought, remember?"

''Do you want to stay here? Assembling a puzzle?' Ginny followed Harry as he walked around her room as if the surroundings had been familiar to him for years already, looking for the box on her shelves, which was a total mess of old books, photos and other stuff.

"Of course, it's your day, we'll do whatever you want, ma'am."

August 11, 2021

''How did you know you loved him? Because he wants to assemble a puzzle with you?" Albus asked, no longer paying attention to the TV.

''No and yes. See, unlike everyone else that day, your dad respected my grief. He didn't try to make me go outside, see the bright side of things, nothing. He just stayed there with me, accepting that on that day, I wanted to stay inside my room, putting together a puzzle… He paid attention to the flowers I liked, in the cake." Ginny smiled. "That dawn, after everyone else went to sleep, I finally managed to cry, and son, it's a pain I can't put into words." She swallowed, not wanting to get emotional. ''Over time it gets a little easier, but that year, it was a pain that seemed to tear my chest apart. And do you know what your dad did? He sat with me, hugged me, and listened to me cry for an hour, not saying anything, just standing there by my side.''

The memory was no longer as painful as it had been, and Ginny allowed herself to smile as the image of Harry lying beside her on the bed, his arms around her waist, came back to her mind.

"He never tried to save me, he just stayed there with me, helping me when I needed it, and that was the most important thing."

"He saved you in the chamber," Albus remembered, a mischievous smile on his lips that reminded her of Fred when he was younger. Ginny didn't even know it was possible, but it was always the image that came to her mind when she saw Albus smile like that.

"It was a different situation." She shrugged.

"Did you doubt you would marry him after that day?"

"Never again." And it was true. ''Since that morning, when I woke up and he was still sleeping with me after I cried and sobbed things I don't even remember anymore, I knew he was the one I would marry.'' Ginny touched the ring that was already on her finger for over twenty years now, still smiling like a fool as she remembers the marriage proposal and the marriage itself.

"And why weren't you sure you'd be with him before that?"

''It's not that I wasn't sure, it's just that when you go through something really bad, everything around you seems to fall apart together, it's like nothing else has a solution and you are bound to fail whatever you try. It's a horrible feeling, I hope you never feel that.'' Ginny shifted on the couch to give him a closer look. ''Why this now?''

"Just curiosity." Albus smiled, his cheeks a little flushed. "Happy birthday again, Mom, I love you so much." He kissed her forehead, as she usually did.

''I love you too, my love.''

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 32

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: drunkness, nightmares.

NEXT CHAPTER

    - Sharon? 

There she stood, in all her elegant and precise posture dignified of someone who had been trained to be a spy. Y/N had spoken to Sharon before yet it had been brief so all she knew about her was what she had learned from the media and what Bucky had told her. Yet, Bucky wasn’t one to share much about his life as a Winter Soldier or an Avenger. Despite all this mystery surrounding the woman standing in the kitchen, she trusted her. She was Bucky’s friend and Steve’s girlfriend, a decorated scholar and agent. If she wanted to hurt her the chance was very, very low. Besides, she doubted Bucky would’ve just gone around giving people his address. He doesn’t even tell anyone but the barista his coffee order, not that it is too hard to guess.

    - Bucky asked me to look after you while he’s gone. - she said before Y/N could even question her. - He said you’d feel more comfortable with a woman watching over you.

    - He really left, uh? - Y/N knew he had left, after all his dog tags were hanging from her closed fist, but her more optimistic self, the more happy look which wanted to believe he was gonna be told this was mistake and he could return to the normal life he had paid by with blood, sweat and tears.

    - Do you wanna go for breakfast? There’s a nice spot just a few blocks away from here. - she tried to distract her, kind smile forming. - I always thought you and me should get to know each other. You know, Steve and Bucky are like brothers so we’ll see each other a lot. 

     - Yeah, I hum ... I just need to get dressed. - Y/N wanted to be her happy, cheery self and she knew Sharon was only trying to make her feel better but all she could think about was Bucky and if he was safe.

She knew she was no super soldier, no super spy, not a witch or an agent but she just wanted to help him. She was already helpless in her own life, merely following along as others guided her, too afraid to step too much out of line in fear of losing what she had worked for. After all, many people wanted what she had, many people wanted a contract with a household agency thus she had to be compliant. She had to step on the breaks before she even turned the key. However, if there was something she had agency on it was her relationships and she wanted to help him. God, she wished to never see that look, the look he gave her that morning after that call. It was pure sorrow mixed with anger and she wondered how long he’d felt that way. She wondered if anyone had tried to help him rather than weaponise him. It was not her choice to decide what Bucky wanted to do with his life, it was not her right to demand him explain her demons to her but it was her choice and her pleasure to be by his side and right now she wanted to be by his side. Even if her mother had raised her not to rely on a man. It wasn’t relying on him, it wasn’t being only completed when a man was around, it wasn’t her feeling incomplete whenever he was around. No. It was none of that. It was merely wanting to hold the hand of someone who had for the longest time not had anyone to hold his hand. It was loving someone so much, she’d be okay with holding his burden with him even if he didn’t want to. It was merely loving someone, darkness and light, and she loved him. 

Her hands gripped the sink of the bathroom, eyes gazing onto the mirror in front of her and as such her own face. She watched every line, every corner, contour and shadow of her face, the dog tags softly dangling around from her neck, the only part of him she had near her. Y/N splashed cold water against her face, trying to let her own optimism flow into what was now a negative outcome. She stepped outside of the bedroom, a soft smile drawn on her features.

   - Should we go? - Sharon suggested, grabbing her coat which was laying over the couch. - It will make you feel better, Y/N. 

   - Yeah, I’m just ...

   - He’s one of the best operatives in the field. - Sharon interrupted her. - He will be fine, I promise you. 

   - You can’t promise me that. - she said as she took her own jacket from the hooks on the wall.

   -  I’ve seen him fight before, Y/N. I’ve been where you are, it’s shit but ... you gotta trust someone who’s strong enough to carelessly break a brick, will be fine. 

Sharon meant well, she knew she did and she was glad she was there but Y/N felt nothing but completely numb to what was happening around her. It seems as he had left with her heart and now she was longing his and hers didn’t get broken in the middle of HYDRA’s crossfire. She didn’t know much about HYDRA or even the Winter Soldier, her parents had shielded her and her siblings from the bad of the world and while she had seen Washington in the TV and remembered when Captain America had been regarded as a traitor, she had never been explained much about HYDRA and all that was out in the internet was glossed over with a paint coat of big, bad monster. Funny how big, bad monsters don’t look like monsters at all. She’d not even been in the country when the first modern Winter Soldier attacks had occurred and she was younger, much more naive. What she could remember was circled with rumours of politicians then blaming every single event on the soldier, turning him into a folklore-like creature but he was not folklore, he really existed. Conscious or not conscious, he existed. She didn’t know how Bucky felt about it, he’d never tell her but what she knew was that he drew a line between who he had been and who he was now, and he hated to cross that line.

The harsh sound of the coffee steamer from the coffee machine took her from her own head. The coffee shop itself was mostly empty, highly due to it being later in the morning and all she wanted to do was return to her bedroom and stay there until she had to go for her photoshoot. However, the waitress was already taking their orders which meant she had to at least stay here until the two of them had eaten whatever Sharon had prepared. 

   - How do you do it? - Y/N blurted out, clearly losing any control over her mind to mouth filter. - The missions ... I mean, Steve must be going on them all the time. 

   - Well, whenever I don’t go ... it’s hell. - she smiled tightly. - One thing is going on a mission yourself, the other one is someone who you love going. And for what? Crocked politicians? 

   - I get a feeling you’re not a big fan of the government. 

   - You’d be right. So, what’s the schedule for today? Bucky didn’t really explain what your job entails.

   - There’s a photoshoot today at 3, then it’s free days until Monday where I have to go on set to film the last scenes. 

    - Photoshoot? Sounds fun. 

    - The Virgin Bride for Vogue.

    - Oh ... - she agent scrunched up her face. - Not so fun.

    - They’re doing an issue on the types of brides. You know ... because type casting not only occurs in Hollywood, it occurs in life too. You got your bridezellas, your over 30 brides, your rebel brides and the virgin bride. Being the virgin bride does fit with the image they want for me. 

     - I never really understood type casting, if I’m being honest. You know, the rat, brit, brat pack. Never really made sense.

     - It’s a marketing strategy. It is easier to market someone as a type rather than a complex person.

She liked photoshoots, she mostly got to dress up and get photographed almost like a big makeover like in those 90s movies she still curled up against her comforter to see. This particular one did make her upset, to be in a white wedding dress, surrounded by soft white fabric was particularly cruel. She knew her wedding was not going to be what she dreamed of a kid and unless she wanted to get her agency or the government in the business, the two of them would’ve had to get married in the civil hall. However, it did not matter to her where she got married, it mattered that the person she wasn’t engaged to was not here. It was almost like being dressed as a left at the altar bride ... like a widow. 

She unpinned the veil from her hair, taking off all the heavy jewellery that had been used to adorn her hair and put it on top of the desk where all the makeup was still open. The dress was pretty but it was big, it was too big, it almost swallowed her, it made her feel small but it reminded of him. She wondered where he was, what he was doing, how he was feeling, if he was safe.

    - That was boring. - Sharon said as she stepped inside the dressing room, holding two coffee cups. - I know that look. What’s wrong?

    - I hate this dress. - Y/N sat down in the chair. - It’s too big.

    - You look like a wedding cake.

    - Right. - Y/N moved the fabric up playfully. - I don’t think I can even move correctly. 

    - You should be thinking about your own soon. - Y/N gave Sharon a confused look. - Steve told me. Don’t tell Bucky, he’ll get upset and then Steve will be upset, big mess.

    - Well, it’s good to be able to speak to someone about it. - she smiled. Only Bucky and her parents knew, so she did not have many people to tell she was engaged to or to even speak about it. 

    - So, how do you envision your wedding dress?

    - Oh, I don’t ... I don’t really think about it. It’s most likely gonna be in city hall so it’s not worth it.

    - What? That’s bullshit. Everyone wears a dress. 

    - I can’t really go anywhere ... the paps would go crazy and that’s the last thing I need.

    - Still, everyone wears a dress even if they go to city hall.

Y/N merely shrugged. Her head was not in the right space and for the first time she was looking forward to go to set. It didn’t matter if being on set was dehumanising sometimes, it mattered that her head would’ve been somewhere else. She knew that as a perfectionist, her mind would be on finishing those scenes and not on Bucky. As she got home, she couldn’t help but get lost inside her mind again as Sharon put some old sitcom on the TV. She was surrounded by him, by memories of him, things that reminded her of him. Looking to her left there were framed photos of him, his jacket was still hanging from the door, the broken shards of porcelain were still on the sink. There were pieces of him everywhere and half of her felt ridiculous it was affecting her so much as it was but she loved him. She loved him.

    - Right, get your jacket. - Sharon got up from the couch.

    - Why? Where are we going?

    - You will see.

Y/N followed Sharon through the half lit Brooklyn night down to the back of several shops. The lights flickered, illuminating the bins filled with black plastic bags which laid in the back fronts of several shops. She watched as Sharon made her way towards a particular store back, taking a key from under a seemingly unseeingly rock which opened the heavy pad lock keeping the door shut. Sharon motioned her head towards the door and Y/N followed her into the dark shop. The agent closed the door behind them before she turned the lights. The bright white lights illuminated the shop floors and she noticed she was surrounded by hundreds of glass see through closets with various white dresses. Was she in a bridal shop?

    - You need to take your mind out of him. - Sharon sat against one of the pale pastel pink couches laid around the store. 

    - Is this legal?

    - You’re engaged to Bucky Barnes, how come you care about legality so much? 

    - I don’t want to get arrested, Sharon.

    - It’s one of my friends bridal store. You said you couldn’t do it without paps walking around and photographing you, so ... here you go.

    - I ... I don’t ... What if he doesn’t come back? - Y/N’s lip trembled as she crossed her arms and looked to the side.

    - Y/N, he will come back. It is one man against a soldier with the strength of five. Trust me, if not for anything else, he’ll come back to you. Now, dress, what dress do you want?

    - I don’t know. 

    - Come on. Pick one and try it on. We are not going home until you try a dress on.

    - Fine.

Y/N stared at the dresses, grabbing the first one she could find in her own size and dragging it onto the dressing room. It definitely was not her type of dress, at least not the type of dress she had envisioned getting married in. It was pure white, sleeveless with a cut which went down to her sternum, skin tight, hugging her body in a flattering way but it just wasn’t her dress. It wasn’t the dress she wanted to get married in, but right now it wasn’t the time to think about what dress to wear when Bucky was out. She shouldn’t be playing dress up. 

She waddled back to where Sharon was sat before she stopped in front of her, hands on her hips. Somehow, she had found some prosecco and plastic flutes and had her feet on top of the pale pink couch. 

   - Are you happy now? - Y/N sighed, mostly out off nuissance. 

   - Don’t give me that tone. - Sharon sipped from her own flute, handing Y/N the other one. - Come on, what do you think?

   - It’s ... uhm ... fine. - her hands gestured around the fabric.

   - What? That’s the first one you try. Why aren’t you crying? It isn’t the one if you’re not crying. That’s what they do in the movies.

   - I can cry.

   - No, spin. - Sharon waved her finger around and Y/N spun around slowly. - It ain’t it.

   - But Bucky ...

   - From now on every time you say the words James, Bucky, Buchanan, or Barnes, you’re drinking. 

   - But I don’t know if Bucky ...

   - Drink. - Sharon interrupted her. Y/N scrunched her face not really believing her but she looked dead serious. She took a sip of her prosecco, placing the flute on the table near her. - Come on, what does your wedding dress look like.

   - I don’t know ... I don’t want something skin tight, I want some floofy fabric.

   - Yeah, go on.

   - And I don’t want it to be too long, I want my shoes to show ... like Audrey Hepburn in Funny Face.

   - Let’s find it. 

Both she and Sharon went through tons and tons of dresses, through so much lace she was sure to dream about it for the next week until they found something that resembled what she wanted. Y/N ended up rather dizzy on the prosecco, not used to drinking too much, running around barefoot with the dress that was her dress in a rather subdued white which showed her legs from the ankle down, a voluminous little shirt which cinched at her waist. A rather short veil fell from her head, pinned to the crown of her head with a fake baby pink rose prong clip. The two ended up laying on the pink couch, heads leaning against the rather comfortable pillows as they nursed the rest of the bottle of prosecco.

   - Okay but I have a question ... - Y/N said, bringing her flute down. - Is it weird dating the same guy who kissed your great aunt?

   - Listen, Steve is a kissing whore. - she tried to say it with a straight face but ended up breaking into laughter. - It’s true. He’ll kiss anyone, unstoppable. The blonde girl from the army, my great aunt, Natasha. If it hadn’t been for me, Steve would be Captain Kisscam instead of Captain America. 

   - Captain Kisscam. What superpowers would he have? 

   - Making people kiss each other? No that sounds terrible. I don’t know ... to be honest what even is Steve’s superpower?

   - Ultimate ... - Y/N broke down laughing before she could continue. She put her hand in front of her chest, taking a deep breathe as she tried not to laugh at the joke in her head. - Ultimate frisbee.

   - You know? Sex on top of the shield? Terrible, so uncomfortable.

   - Sharon!

   - What? I was curious, it is a weirdly unbreakable shield, isn’t it? Besides, that’s not even the craziest thing we’ve done.

    - What’s the craziest thing you’ve done?

    - We did it at the Smithsonian.

    - SHARON! There’s children there. It’s ... a hall of science, and ... memorabilia ... and ... I don’t know, I’ve never been to the Smithsonian.

    - Oh, c’mon. What’s the craziest place where you and Bucky have done it?

    - You said Bucky, drink. - Y/N pointed her flute at Sharon.

    - So did you. Drink. - the two girls drank what was left over in the glasses, throwing them to the side. - Come on. Tell me.

    - I don’t know ... What are we counting as doing it?

    - 3rd base.

    - I do not understand bases. 

    - Handjobs don’t count. 

    - Oh ... then ... the parking lot of the set in his car. 

    - And the car didn’t break?

    - Come on, it’s not that old of a car.

    - It’s ancient, Y/N. - Sharon chuckled, passively looking at her watch to check on the time. - We should get going before the shop opens.

She went back into the dressing room to take off her wedding dress. It wasn’t until then she realised she was still wearing his dog tags, the cold metal against her warm skin, a side effect of the alcohol coursing through her veins. She was reminded of him again on that moment, wondered how he was doing, how he was feeling. She hoped and begged he was okay in her mind, and the memory of him haunted her mind even as she laid down in bed to go to sleep. There was a direct line from wedding gowns and dog tags to her fiance and wherever he was. Her blood distracted by the unhinging of the alcohol coursing along it, was filled with hate. Not for him but for his situation, for how helpless she was to helping him. 

She turned around in her bed, forcefully shutting her eyes as a way to ensure she went to sleep instead of dwelling on those thoughts. However, she simply didn’t have a choice to leave. As her consciousness dissolved into unconscious she woke up in the same bedroom but the environment was blurry, very highly saturated yet the colours were candy bright. However, the environment wasn’t inviting at all and soon broken through the candy bright atmosphere she could hear screaming. She tried to untangle herself from her sheets, running through the bedroom yet her movements were slow and her running was more like a slow motion run. She pushed open the door, coming face to face with the same candy coloured blurred bright world but in front of her was him but not him as she knew him. Not at least as she had known him. His hair was much longer, slightly past his jaw which was covered by a mask, a muffle. His clothing was restricting, the top almost resembling a straightjacket, as if he was dangerous. He was so close but so far away, on his knees with someone whose face was blurrier than the atmosphere itself.

   -  Don’t worry. - the blurred person’s voice was as distorted as the vision, mechanical even as he rose a gun up to the head of a Bucky Barnes she had never met. - We will help you.

   - NO! - she lunged forward as the gunshot echoed through her ears and like a rubber band she was pushed back to reality. She rose her torso from her bed in pure agony, eyes wide open and red, hand holding the sheet against her chest which rose up and down in fast paces.

Looking around, nothing was candy coloured and everything was clear. The room was dark in muddled shades barely lit by the moon light peaking from the small rips in the curtains Bucky had first gotten when he first moved in. Everything was as it was, his sleeping shorts were still hanging from the chair next to the dresser, the dead flowers were still in the vase he had once put them when they were fresh. Everything was as it was, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was lurking. The feeling that both of them had just crossed the bridge past the point of no return. 

taglist: @disasterbii @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @oh-nohoney @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21​ @noiralei​ @learisa​ @everythingisoverratedbutgreat​ @uglipotata72829​ @naturalthrone22​ @husherstan​ @mandiiblanche​ @vicmc624​ @newyorkgoddess​ @itsallyscorner​ @chipilerendi​ @emzd34 @writerwrites​ @bluevxnus​ @that-girl-named-alex​ @captnrogers​ @nsfwsebbie​ @sarge-barnes-sir​ @niki-is-a-thing​ @cynic-spirit​ 

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Post-Moments

a ‘momentary’ follow-up ... of sorts ...

Our Moments: Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts) Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori) Chapter 3: Interim (floating somewhere around Unrequited) Chapter 4: Max 2.0 (post-Tempus Fugit/Max) Chapter 5: Shadowed Grey Eyes Chapter 6: The Warmest Thing I Own Chapter 7: Fancy Paper Napkins Chapter 8: End of the Road (post-Redux/Redux 2) Chapter 9: Post-Moments

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

First thing back was her sense of smell. It took nearly a week but suddenly, as she walked, unannounced but never unwelcome into his apartment, she stopped, the look of surprise on her face made him immediately laugh, then tilt his head, “you shouldn’t be that surprised to see me here. It’s my apartment.”

Ignoring his statement, she quick-stepped his way, burying her face first in his shirt, then, pulling him to her level, into his neck, sniffing like a bloodhound on the trail of some erstwhile criminal with a bag of treats. So taken aback by the invasion, he simply stood there, letting her take several deep inhales before finally reaching for her shoulders, “you keep breathing like that and you’ll pass out.”

Twisting her head, she gave him a quick kiss, then dropped back flat-footed, forcing him to once again look down at her while she looked up, “I haven’t been able to smell you since day 12 of ‘IT’ so I’m making up for lost time.”

She’d told him, finally, after he’d repeatedly offered her tempting foods to try to coax some weight back on her bony frame, that she hadn’t been able to smell anything, and therefore, taste anything, for awhile but she’d never stated the exact day until now and standing there, already changed into jeans and a t-shirt, an epiphany of sorts smacked him hard upside the head, “what? Day 12?” Ignorant idiocy settling in, “Shit. You sat through a steak, my famous garlic mushrooms, six tubs of ice cream, and all those M&Ms I kept feeding you and you couldn’t taste a thing? The amount of money I could have saved during those months I tempted you with anything I could find while, really, it all tasted like sawdust.” Feigning irritation but failing miserably as he scooted closer, kissing her forehead, “what a crock of shit.”

“I got …” being generous for his sake, “hints of flavor.”

“Fuck, woman, we’re having a steak and ice cream orgy tonight. I’m going shopping.”

She stopped his movements with hands on arms, “hey, let me go taste something and see if that came back as well before you waste all your money on cow foods.”

Following her to his kitchen, “both things really do involve cows. That’s rather unnerving, actually.”

With a grin, she found a cookie, then, tasting it, she shook her head, “I’d save the cow for another day.”

Mulder, wondering if his earlier suggestion of Mexican for dinner was still appropriate, he decided ‘no’, then, “well, how about we taking a smelling tour of DC and eat toast for dinner?”

He got a well-deserved backhand to his chest, “we are eating at Papadapoulous’ House of Salsa tonight because you’ve been talking about that place ad nauseum all week. Get your coat.” When he didn’t move, she nodded, giving him a smile, “we can do the smelling tour after, okay?”

“Deal.”

&&&&&&&&&&&

Taste came back ten days later. Just as Mulder came out of her bathroom, about to announce that no one should go in there for 35 to 45 minutes, Scully took a sip of his ice tea and spit it right back out, soaking her shirt and the floor in front of her. Mulder forgot his comment and flew over to her, socks sliding on the polished wood floor, “what happened?”

Feeling like a complete and utter moron, she first retrieved a towel to mop both herself and the floor, then looked at her partner, “I stole some of your ice tea and I could taste it and it scared me, if you can believe it. I wasn’t expecting anything and suddenly there was something and my first reaction,” beginning to laugh at the whole situation, “I spit it out. I didn’t even think to swallow it.”

Mulder shook his head, “are you sure we’re still talking about ice tea and not dirty things?”

He could almost hear her brain suddenly shift gears, brakes squeaking, mind two steps behind, “what?”

It was his turn to laugh, pulling her into a hug, soaking wet shirt and all, “I’ll give you two minutes to think about it, then I’ll explain if necessary.”

It took almost four seconds before, “I’ve never been a spitter, Mulder.”

That worked entirely too well for him and dismissing all but his hairy-moled, make-up caked fourth-grade teacher from his mind, he held her another minute then moved back, calmed down again, “you should go change your shirt.”

“No wet t-shirt comments?” Her sassy retort told him both that she knew what her swallowing comment had done to him and what the wet t-shirt mention would. She was evil. She knew it. He knew it. He loved it.

“Just go change. Tonight, we shop for steak.”

Loving him to pieces, she reached for his elbow, playing with the sharp bent end, “so, I know we just had Mexican a few days back but now that I can taste things, I desperately want salsa and a Margarita.”

“Large?”

��The biggest one they fucking sell, pardon my French.”

Their kiss was much longer this time, Scully’s fingers firmly twirled in his shirt by the time they were done, Mulder’s hands curled around her ass, “then can I make you mushrooms this weekend?”

“Pounds of them. Extra garlic and butter,” suddenly swallowing, “yeah, we need to go eat.”

“Lead the way.”

&&&&&&&&&&

His arrival at her house that Friday night with grocery bags was, oddly, the first time her body reacted to him. They’d been making out, to use the juvenile-y appropriate term, but nothing more, Scully still recovering, Mulder still nervous about 12000 things between and surrounding them both.

But seeing him standing there, in her door, goofy smile and slipping bottle of wine in hand, she felt something. It was a fast twinge but it was familiar but surprising and her widening eyes told him something but he wasn’t sure what and he didn’t ask.

Had he asked, he may have gotten an answer that would have necessitated bringing fourth-grade teacher back … but instead, he walked in, setting bags on counter before turning, “hungry?”

For the first time in months, she appreciated the underlying double-meaning he hadn’t intended, “yes. Very much so. How long do the mushrooms take to cook?”

“At least a few hours.” Pulling things from bags, “but I bought appetizers and,” holding up several National Enquirers, “reading material. Let’s see if we can find a case somewhere in the tropics. I could use a ‘vacation’.”

Only Mulder.

Mushrooms cleaned and slow-cooking, they nibbled their way through eight different kinds of cheeses, each one a symphony to Scully’s previously deadened tongue. She may have let slip a ‘hhhmmm’ that could have possibly been interpreted as a moan by one Fox Mulder but he didn’t comment and she kept doing it.

He was glad he wore the looser jeans tonight.

They chuckled and argued in tandem while thumbing through the papers Mulder brought: telling stories, tossing theories, debunking nonsense. Finishing the first bottle of wine slowly, Mulder offered a second but Scully shook her head, “save it for dinner.”

Agreeing, he moved to stir the crockpot, then returned, towel over his shoulder, licking his fingers from the buttery sample he’d eaten in the kitchen, “They’re getting there.”

Second twinge, this one longer, had her lower abdomen contracting in a tickling giggle kind of way. The shiver up her spine caused her to visibly vibrate for a moment but Mulder, luckily or unluckily, not noticing, sat back down, returning to the ‘Owl that carried off a family of four in their camper van’ story on page 26.

What the hell.

Then again, he was licking his fingers.

The third zing when she returned to this thought was not as strong as the second but made her smile nonetheless, which Mulder actually did notice, “what?”

She pinked-up instantly, having forgotten the heat of a blush across her skin, and hands to cheeks suddenly, “just … a little too much wine.”

He moved his hand to her pulled up knee, squeezing it, “we don’t have to open the second one. It’ll keep.”

“No. No. I, uh, I, … I’m fine. I … I’m fine.”

Gibbering idiot more like it but whatever.

&&&&&&&&&&

If sex were food, Scully decided, it would be that steak. Mulder went for broke, filet and strip, buttery smooth, medium rare, warm, pink, juicy, perfect blend of garlic and butter, rosemary and pepper. Between the taste; the sight of Mulder across the table; the smell of wine and smoke; the look of him, messy-haired and smiling, relaxed three feet from her; the feel of impending summer breezes through the window, she tipped into sensory overload, eyes shutting as she tried to bring herself back to some kind of alignment.

Then, eyes still closed, she heard his voice, “hey, you. Ya’llright?”

The tinging vibration hit her full-force, arm hair standing on end, neck flushing, nipples tightening, a thousand images of him and her, himandher, flashing through her mind, driving the feeling shooting from stomach to clit to soul in speed of light, circuitous fashion, “yeah. Yeah. Just enjoying.”

Her voice was all over the damn map with those four words and Mulder, knowing her better than he knew himself, tilted his head, finally understanding exactly what was happening, “I can see that.”

Quaking quieting somewhat, she shifted in her chair, hoping to relieve some of the pressure she was feeling, pressing down on the cushion like she was seventeen and at the movie theater with her boyfriend, begging silently for him to touch her and simultaneously thinking about touching herself when she got home. Not able to look him in the eye, however, she cut another piece of her steak, praying she wouldn’t choke.

Shifting himself as well, watching her hips search for a good spot against the chair, he kept any comment to himself. He hadn’t pushed anything these last weeks, knowing she was recovering, finding herself again, situating ‘us’ and ‘we’ into a previously accepted solitary status quo of ‘I’ and ‘me’.

But, fuck, he had been tempted and tonight, seeing her like this, pushed his resolve to the breaking point. If she made one more sound in her throat, he truly believed he’d explode under the table, a quiet yet uncontrollable manifestation of four years and infinite wishes. “More wine?”

“Yes, please.”

She fought herself the rest of the meal, making stilted, dinner time conversation that they both saw through, both breathed through, both suffered through.

Dish cleanup and pajama changing quieted her down, her mind focused on other things for a little while but once they’d sat down on the couch, lights off, movie in, ice cream waiting in the freezer for later, she became acutely aware of his proximity to her. He’d offered her half the afghan, shifted the coffee table a little closer for her feet to rest on if she wanted, kissed the top of her head just as the opening credits began. She, in turn, had to keep reminding herself how to breathe evenly.

Sensory overload was kicking in again, the smell of him, his radiating heat, his voice as he contributed oft-placed comments on police procedurals happening on the TV. Her hand found its way to his thigh, fingers playing with the inside seam of his cut-off sweats. His own landed on her flannel pants, roughly same distance between allowable knee and forbidden juncture.

Her voice surprised her, “Mulder?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your stance on third base?”

Slowly, he found the remote and paused before swinging his gaze in her direction, “Yankees or something else?”

Her inhale shuddered, “not the Yankees.”

His hand immediately slid from allowable to not-so-forbidden now, caught between viced thighs, “this third base?”

Confession tumbled from her lips, “I haven’t done anything or felt anything, really, in months and suddenly you walked in today with grocery bags and that stupid grin of yours and you smell fantastic and something kicked in and,” wiggling out of necessity to attempt to … whatever …, “I don’t recall the last time I was this …”

Mulder finished her sentence with a grin, “horny?”

“Yes!”

Somehow, he lifted her bodily onto his lap, his chest to her back, hand sliding effortlessly down the front of her pajamas, finding the sweet spot before she had time to so much as offer the feeble word of ‘bed’.

Then she didn’t care.

At all.

Focusing mainly on his fingers, warm, quick, unexperienced but willing to learn. Instead of following, she led, whispering once to move a little to the left, whispering again to go harder, arching her back as she came in under a minute, body shuddering, twitching, before settling back down.

Over her shoulder, his husky voice sounded in her ear, “can I be next?”

It took all of nine seconds to stand up, drop her clothes to the floor, order him to lift up, pull his pants off, then climb on, already wet, already slick, already taking him inside with a slip and a slide.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Her giggles made him smile, her rosy cheeks made him happy, her warm skin within lips reach made him dizzy but above all else, her panting breath against his neck made him ecstatic, knowing she was alive and well and would be for the foreseeable future. When she finally calmed down, knees digging into the couch springs, skin glued to skin, she pulled herself back, sweat running down Mulder’s chest where they had been pressed together moments earlier, “I had planned for that to be a little … less …” waving her hands around in wordless definition, “that.”

“Was perfect to me.”

Kissing him lightly, then resting forehead to his, “one day, this will all be organized and we’ll make it to the bedroom.”

Hands back on her bare ass, “highly doubt that but it’s nice to have a plan.”

Sitting back, she reached out to him, lightly running her fingers along his hairline, feather-touch making his eyes shut, “I think we should do that again later.”

About to ask why not now, he had an epiphany of sorts and looking at her, square and jokingly judging, “you want ice cream, don’t you?”

This time, her nose scrunched up when she smiled, nodding with enthusiasm, “kind of. But I promise, you’ll always beat out ice cream after today … mostly.”

Pulling her down for a kiss, he then squeezed her thighs to nudge her off him, “come on, woman. Let’s go clean up so we can have dessert.”

“I love you, Mulder.”

“You just love my Rocky Road.”

“That, too.”

[real-work-of-art]

Can We Fall?

A little fall themed piece. 

A/N: Thank you x a million to @oh-honey-styles, @for-fucks-sake-h, @andwhenshesays, and @haute-romance-quotidienne​ for always reading and encouraging me. 💕💕

Word count: 1.9k

Many people consider fall a time that represents sadness. As the leaves fall off the trees or as the days get colder, it’s only a matter of time till winter storms in with her frosty bite. But for you, fall always feels like electricity hanging in the air. Like something new could be waiting at the end of every gust of wind.

You were walking out of your favorite coffee shop on this cool Saturday morning, heading to the small pumpkin patch just around the corner. Dressed in your favorite blue jeans, brown booties, and a thick knit mustard cardigan, you held on tight to your cup of this month's specialty drink.

The pumpkin patch was less of an actual patch and more like a little stand surrounded by pumpkins that also sold some delicious fall desserts.

This was your tradition— every year you picked out a few small pumpkins and gourds to decorate your apartment with.

Luckily it was still early enough in the morning that only a few other people were out picking up pumpkins. As you approach the stand, you notice a young couple pushing a stroller and a man dressed in a black hoodie and running shorts picking through the box of gourds. Waving to the cashier, you walk around the little stand to search for the perfect sized pumpkins to decorate your window sills with.

Looking down at the pumpkins scattered on the ground, you notice two giant pumpkins next to a pair of feet. As your eyes travel up you realize it’s the man in the black hoodie. Letting out a little snicker, you wonder if he carried both of those over at the same time. The image, making you let out another little giggle.

~~~~~

Hearing what he thinks is a laugh, Harry looks over his shoulder to see a woman wrapped in a yellow cardigan, smiling down at his feet. He follows her gaze to the pumpkins next to him. With furrowed brows and a small smirk, he looks back up, but no one is there. Confused, he turns his head to the other side trying to find where she went. He only sees the couple talking to the cashier as they pay for their pumpkins. He questions if he imagined her. Just as he is about to forget about the strange moment, he hears a quiet “oh shit” come from the back of the pumpkin stand.

He sets the gourds he is holding back into the bucket, taking a few steps towards the back. Popping his head around the corner he sees the woman. Her back is to him but she’s bent down picking up an empty coffee cup and wiping away at a pumpkin covered in coffee.

“Are you okay?” Harry takes another step towards the girl but she jumps at the sound of his voice, falling back onto her butt.

Harry tries to take another step but his foot catches on a pumpkin and he trips. Falling on his hands next to her, he lets out a grunt before turning his head over his shoulder to look at the woman next to him.

~~~~~

You’re staring back at him with wide eyes, trying to hold back a laugh. “That pumpkin is a menace,” you say with your thumb pointed over your shoulder.

Shifting over to his bum, he leans back on his hands with his legs stretched out in front of him. “He takes the trick in ‘trick or treat’ very seriously,” he says with a smirk that makes a dimple dig deep into his cheek.

You laugh at his joke, while taking in the mess around you.

“I’m Harry by the way,” he says as he moves to stand, sticking his hand out to help you up.

Sharing your name, you grab his hand and let him pull you up, not letting the strength of his grip and his pull go unnoticed.

Dusting off your jeans, you’re at least thankful none of the coffee spilled on your clothes. As you check the different places of your cardigan for possible coffee stains, Harry picks up your now empty cup and walks to the nearby trash can, careful not to trip on any more pumpkins.

“Sorry about your coffee,” he says as he makes his way back to you. “They sell a really good pumpkin coffee cake here, though.”

“Oh! I’ve never tried it. I always get the apple pie.”

“Me too! It’s my favorite.” Harry was smiling at you but after a few seconds, when neither of you spoke again, you found yourselves awkwardly looking around at the pumpkins scattered on the ground.

“Um. I was actually just about to get one. Would you want to join me? Maybe we can split that coffee cake too.” His voice was smooth but you could see the hopeful glimmer in his eyes and the way he was fidgeting with his fingers.

You really wanted to turn him down. He was a stranger, after all, and the whole situation felt a little awkward, but you were also planning to order a dessert. So, it would feel silly if you both just sat at opposite tables.

Your eyes scan around the little pumpkin stand, realizing you are the only two customers left. “Um, sure,” you finally say. Looking back up at his face, a flash of surprise runs across his features before a smile spreads across his lips and his teeth poke into his bottom lip. You look away, distracting yourself from letting your mind wander with thoughts of how pink and soft his lips look.

Harry steps around you, walking back into the stand and straight to the cashier. You follow behind him unsure how this whole thing is supposed to play out.

As Harry reaches the counter he quickly begins to order. “Two apple pie slices, a pumpkin coffee cake, and two hot apple ciders, please.” You’ve barely reached the counter as Harry is pulling out his wallet and handing over his credit card.

“I can pay for mine,” you try to interject while reaching for your own wallet.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says with a smile, quickly making eye contact with you before turning back to the cashier. “I can carry this over. Do you want to grab a table?”

Honestly, you’re confused. Confused why this stranger is being so nice to you. It’s not like he knocked the coffee out of your hand or pushed you to fall on top of those pumpkins. There’s no reason for him to be buying you treats and offering to eat them together.

Regardless, you nod shyly and walk towards the two little tables set up against the stand. You slide into the seat with your back towards the counter. If you got up right now and ran away he wouldn’t know which direction you ran in. Checking over your shoulder to see if Harry is looking at you, you notice him engaging in a full on conversation with the cashier as they put your order together.

Maybe this guy is just friendly with everyone? You turn back around, quickly getting lost in the possible reasons for how you got here, who this man is, and why he’s so kind.

Lost in thought, you barely register Harry approaching the table, carrying a tray filled with all of the treats he ordered.

“Alright, here we go! One apple pie for you,” he places the desserts on the table in front of you, and quickly runs back to the counter to return the tray. When he sits down at the table he’s looking at you with the biggest smile spread across his face. You can’t help but let the corner of your mouth pull up into a smirk in response to his happiness. There really is just something so magnetic about him.

Harry and you talk and share stories while you finish your food. He asks you tons of questions about yourself, listening to your answers with an endearing intensity. He fights you for the last bite of the coffee cake, ultimately letting you win. His smile leaves you breathless every time. He tells you about his career, apprehensive at first but relieved at your calm reaction.

You knew of Harry Styles, of course. Having been a fan of One Direction back when they were together. The band separated and your life moved on as well. You tried to follow along with their careers. Listening to the music they released whenever you got the chance, but you hadn’t seen a picture of Harry in years.

He really was just a normal guy. Strikingly beautiful, sure, but also kind and genuine. He makes you laugh and as you both gather up the pumpkins you had picked, he offers to walk you to your car that was parked down the street by the coffee shop.

He insists on carrying your things for you, and as you reach your car, after placing everything in your trunk, you find yourselves standing awkwardly in front of each other. You want to see Harry again, but don’t know how to make that happen or if he is even interested.

Clearing your throat you finally speak up. “Thanks for walking me to my car, and for dessert. It was really nice meeting you,” you say as you dig the toe of your boot into the sidewalk.

“I had a great time too.” He looks like he wants to say more but quickly averts his eyes back to the ground shuffling his feet backwards. A gust of wind whips between you two. Stuffing his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, he slowly brings his eyes back up to yours, holding your gaze. With eye contact so intense, your body feels like it’s being pulled towards his.

“I uh thought, um maybe…” he stumbles over his words before taking a deep breath, “Maybe we could do dinner and dessert next time?” You can’t resist the wide smile spreading across your face, so completely endeared by him.

“Yeah, I would really like that. Maybe I could give you my number,” you offer. Harry quickly pulls his phone from the front pocket of his sweater. Unlocking it and handing it over for you to save your number in it, he can’t seem to wipe the smile off his face.  You wonder if he’s having as much trouble as you are controlling the pounding of your heart against your chest.

Returning his phone back to him, you watch as he takes a moment to read over your contact in his phone. “I’ll text you,” he says accompanied by another one of his gorgeous smiles.

“I hope so,” you quip back as you step towards your car. Harry steps back as well, moving to turn and walk back up the street. He gives you one last look over his shoulder as you slide into the driver's seat. Watching him walk away for a couple more seconds, you turn on your car, place your phone in the cup holder and buckle your seatbelt. Just as you reach for the gear shift, you hear your phone vibrate. Seeing a message notification, you unlock your phone to view the message.

“Are you free tonight? - H”

Shaking your head, you let out a chuckle and quickly type out your response.

“Completely.”

Thank you so much for reading!

Falling For You (part 2)

Other works

Golden

The Night Before

Shut Up And Kiss Me

[strayingdawn]

Can I request a felix one where they go to a small shop to buy snacks at midnight and get in a tiny bit of trouble with the store owner by accident?

Of course! And sorry this took so long, I hope you like it! :) (I didn’t mean for it to get this long...oops. Sorry about that) >and feedback from anyone is always appreciated uwu

wc: 1,8k

——————————————————————————

“Are you crying?” Felix asked you with slight amusement in his eyes as he lifted one eyebrow.

“What?! Why would I be cr-” A startling hiccup interrupted your sentence. “... Okay, maybe I teared up a little.” No one would believe your failed attempt at denial if they could see you, and Felix had a front-row seat. Your red-rimmed eyes slightly stung as more salty streams of tears flowed down your face. The image was quite pitiful without context. However, in this scenario, Felix couldn’t help but let a few giggles escape him.

You and Felix had been trying to schedule a night to spend together for weeks, maybe even months at this point. Whenever you both thought you had finally set a date, one of your teachers would rip it from your fingertips and replace it with a new project or test to study for. Sure, you could have study dates, but you both know that your heightened crackhead energy when together and deliriousness induced by deadlines would not mix well. In short, you would both fail. And if you weren’t both drowning in assignments, either you would have a club meeting or Felix would have a swim meet.

However, finally, the odds were in your favor. After many tiring weeks of missing each other's warmth, smiles, and comfort, you both found a clear weekend.

So, tonight, you’re in your bedroom, surrounded by many blankets you didn’t even know you owned inside the elaborate fort you and Felix managed to somehow build. Of course, the first attempt failed after you “accidentally” passed a pillow to Felix while he wasn’t looking which resulted in a pillow fight, and Felix cheating by tickling you. Obviously, you still won, but that’s not important. You finally finished your fort after cleaning up the pillows and blankets that were scattered everywhere (including the pillow that somehow ended up on a curtain rod) and prepared Disney+ for your movie marathon while Felix got snacks downstairs.

Now, the reason why you’re crying right now. You and Felix were well aware that as long as you were involved, it wasn’t truly a Disney+ movie marathon if Hamilton was not played at least once throughout the night. And Felix is always willing to tolerate your addiction to the music and action that is Hamilton. However, with the number of times you’ve already watched it, which has surely exceeded fifty, he didn’t think you would still have the ability to cry by the final curtain call. Clearly, he was mistaken.

“Haven’t you seen this like fifty times?” he questioned with skepticism in his voice and some confusion painted on his face, especially since you usually remained neutral through any movie, despite the occasional teary eyes.

“Who cares! It’s heartbreaking seeing his monologue before death, Burr’s guilt, and then Eliza goes on to tell his story and the stories of others,” more sobs break through the air as you recall the final scenes. Sure, you could admit you were being a little dramatic, but how could anyone not find someone’s death and unfinished legacy depressing. “Wait...did we run out of snacks?”

But of course, food is some of the best medicine for sadness, and easily snaps you out of your misery.

“Huh, I guess so…”

“Well, what do you want to watch next? I can set it up while you get more.”

“About that...those were all the snacks you had…”

“What! What do you mean that’s all I had? It wasn’t even that much!” You knew you went through lots of snacks this past week while you studied since you usually pushed eating an actual meal to the side, prioritizing your work. But you didn’t know you basically cleared out the kitchen.

“Well, what are you yelling at me for? I’m not the one who runs on four hours of sleep a night and depends on candy and coffee to make up for it.”

“Okay, now's not the time point to point out my poor life choices.” You paused for a second, trying to think of a solution for your dilemma. “Well, what are we supposed to do now? It’s,” you glanced at your bedside clock, “12:00 am.”

“We could go to that little shop down the street” Felix suggested, but you weren’t sure you should go anywhere this late at night, especially in your current state, even though the idea of food was pretty persuading.

“I don’t know..should we be going out this late?” You were all for adventures, and you considered your neighborhood to be pretty safe, but your warm fort and stuffed animals tempted you to stay. Felix noticed your hesitation.

“Come on. It’s not like we’ve never gone out for a late-night snack before...plus, we can get creamsicles,” he said, nudging your shoulders, knowing you couldn’t deny your favorite ice cream. Curse Felix and the way he knows you like the back of his hand.

You sighed, also knowing he had you hooked. “Fine,” you huffed. “Let’s go.” You stood up and held out your hand, which he gladly grasped onto as he rose to his feet as well.

“Wow, you’ll really do anything for creamsicles,” Felix teased with a slight smirk that you could see in your peripheral vision.

“Oh shut up, you act like we’re going on some death-defying journey,” you roll your eyes at Felix’s attempt to provoke you. He simply shrugged his shoulders and chuckled a little.

As soon as you stepped out of your front door, you felt the gentle breeze envelope you. It wasn’t too cold nor was it too warm; it was slightly cool and simply refreshing. The soft wind pushed your hoodie and sweatpants into your body like a hug and blew your hair out of your face giving you a clear view of the night sky. The stars twinkled like glitter on a black piece of paper. You felt connected with everything as you inhaled a deep breath. You started to get lost in your surroundings until Felix’s slight tug on your arm brought you back to reality.

“Oh, sorry. I forgot how much I enjoy nights like these.” You had a relaxed smile on your face, as you admired the stars and the shapes they created while walking beside him.

Felix simply hummed, submitting the earlier, breathtaking image of you at such peace into his memory. “It’s fine. It does feel really nice out here. Aren’t you glad I convinced you to come?” He asked in a rather teasing tone.

“Yeah, yeah. Ya did good.” You rolled your eyes while letting out a chuckle. Felix followed with some of his famous giggles.

The rest of the small, five-minute walk was filled with little jokes and clowning each other if the other one tripped or stumbled. Before you knew it you were already walking into the little shop, and the woman, who you assumed was the owner since you’ve seen them at the shop in passing many times when the shop was closed, greeted you both, fairly friendly despite this late hour.

You and Felix separated once he suggested you could split up, considering you both knew each other’s likes and dislikes fairly well. You wandered across the beige floor tiles towards the chip aisle, while the drinks caught Felix’s attention.

After choosing seven bags of different chips, for variety of course, you noticed a certain stand-alone display across from you. It held quite the selection of little cake snacks. It seemed new which piqued your interest, so you decided to search for something that might suit your taste. Apparently, you must have been so focused on the baked goods that you didn’t even hear Felix’s steps coming toward you. Felix also noticed your diverted attention.

“Boo!”

Now, those who knew you well also knew your tendencies to be dramatic, especially when startled. So Felix’s sudden exclamation had you springing forward, arms flailing...right into the display. The whole snack arrangement wasn’t even that big, shorter than you, but it still managed to make a great boom and fading rumble as the impact sent waves of vibrations through the metal and some cakes went flying in different directions.

At first, you were frozen in complete shock, staring at the disaster in front of you. Until you caught a glimpse of the freckled boy who was now beside you, also surprised by your reaction.

“Felix!” You whisper-shouted in an accusing tone, even though the clear, loud crash surely already caught the store owner’s attention.

“What do you mean ‘Felix’? You’re the one who knocked it over!”

“And you’re the one who scared me which made me knock it over!”

“Well I didn’t know you were almost worse than Hyunjin and his dramatics!”

You let out an exasperated and somewhat panicked sigh. “Well, what do we-”

“Oh my goodness!” Oh no. You wouldn’t have to think about your question for too long, as the owner would surely give a solution. Whether that was good or bad, you didn’t know yet.

“Wh- I-I am s-so sorry! I was startled, a-and accidentally knocked it over! I promise it was an accident-” you fumbled for the right words to say, hoping the store owner would have mercy on you.

“Um...it’s fine..accidents do happen. However, you’ll have to pay for this mess you’ve created one way or another.” She still wore a calm, sweet smile that eased your worries.

“O-of course! We will gladly clean this mess for you.”

Felix noticed your specific choice of pronouns. “We?” You only jabbed Felix’s side with your elbow and confirmed what you said under your breath. As Felix attempted to reason with you, the store owner grabbed a garbage bin for the few treats that didn’t take the fall as well as others.

Forty-five minutes and a whining Felix later, the display was basically back to its original state, minus a few snacks. Thankfully, the owner didn’t immediately kick you out after your work was done and continued to assure you that the two of you were still welcome anytime. So, you both walked out with bags full of drinks and food to last you a week full of movie marathons, unless you get flooded with work and revert to old habits, of course.

“I still can’t believe you dragged me into your mess,” Felix commented, still seeming a little salty about being forced, by you, to clean up the little cakes crushed by the display. However, you knew his frown was only a disguise, so he could give you a hard time. Felix would have helped even if you had begged him not to. He might laugh at your misery first but would still lend a hand nevertheless.

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad. Besides, it was worth it,” you held up the bag you were holding full of ice cream. A smile slowly appeared on your face as you remembered Felix’s words from earlier. Felix seemed to catch on quickly, so you both spoke your thoughts aloud.

“Anything for creamsicles.”

[msjr0119]

Hey everyone! Sorry for another long hiatus, I’m still alive- even if I look like a zombie every morning 🙈😂. I have really bad baby brain at the moment so if there’s some grammatical errors, please ignore them. They will be rectified before posting.

⚠️Please do not read if you are under 18⚠️

A/N1: Whilst I’ve been on hiatus I have been editing a few things of mine, so have decided to do a Sneak Peek/ WIP. There will be warnings for each specific series.

A/N2: @callmeellabella / @plumeriavibes sent me a few requests to do over a year ago- they are completed and I hope to post this week. Technically here in the UK we are still in lockdown - so they will still be apt, Ella 😂

Tags- As always I tag my combined tag list for these things⬇️

@drakexwillow @annekebbphotography @kingliam2019 @burnsoslow @kimmiedoo5 @lodberg @walker7519 @drakewalkerisreal @axwalker @bascmve01 @ladyangel70 @texaskitten30 @yukinagato2012 @indiacater @queenjilian @drakewalker04 @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @rainbowsinthestorm @desiree-pow @jared2612 @twinkle-320 @princessleac1 @custaroonie @princess-geek @bebepac @nikkis1983 @rafasgirl23415 @seriouslybadchoices @furiousherringoperatortoad @shanzay44 @choices97 @gardeningourmet @lovablegranny @mom2000aggie @gkittylove99 @sweatyrysconnoisseur @rubiwalker

Cordonian Wags

⚠️ Warnings - Possible adultery? 🤷‍♀️

“Miss Brooks, please.” Standing up slowly, her legs felt like jelly. Following the sonographer into the room, she laid on the bed before slowly raising her top which revealed a small neat bump. The image that all the paparazzi had been so desperate to capture.

“Before we begin, are there any questions that you’d like to ask?” The woman calmly asked as she prepared to begin the scan.

“Every baby is a miracle, right?”

“Yes, of course they are. There’s no need to be worried. Everything will be fine.” Obviously the health of the baby was a priority- but in her situation there were other queries that were lingering throughout her mind.

“Your baby is going to be either a footballer or a gymnast. Look at its legs, it’s such a wriggle bum.” For the first time since entering the room, she slowly turned her head and viewed her baby for the first time. “The baby’s heartbeat is fine... you have a very active and healthy baby. I have no concerns. How many copies of the photo would you like?” Answering one, she ran her finger over the black and white shot. Just you and I, little one.

“Can I ask one question?”

“Of course!”

“With these scans... I may sound stupid, which I have been recently in the last few months. My question... it’s ridiculous. I already deep down know the answer but can you tell certain things such as the baby’s race? Grandparents DNA?” The medical professional sat down close to her, holding her hand that was shaking as she spoke those words.

“Unfortunately not.... is there....”

“Let me rephrase my question... is there anyway that you can tell who the father is?”

****

A Proposal

There are two WIP for this series. A one shot based on Bertrand as well as a sneak peek for the upcoming chapter. If you don’t read the series, the one shot can be read as a stand alone.

⚠️Warnings: Swearing, nudity, possible ‘affair’.

One shot

Regretting his idiotic split second decision, Bertrand was now locked out of his room. Wearing a skimpy towel that barely just covered up his manhood. Due to the alcohol consumption- his brain was barely functioning as he began to ‘walk’ along the corridor. Rounding the corner, he spotted two familiar faces- then stumbled knocking down a painting off of the wall.

“Your highness! Ri Ri... good evening.” Both sets of eyes widened, mainly for two reasons. The first one being, witnessing Bertrand in this state. The second reason- would the Duke remember seeing them together. Alone. Did he see Liam lock his lips onto Riley’s? They would sure find out in the morning, once the group reformed.

“I wonder where everybody else is? Where’s the staff in this place?” Bertrand muttered to himself as he entered the elevator. Reaching the ground floor, the drunk duke strolled out not having a care in the world.

“Sir? You cannot walk around like that. Please return to your room immediately!”

“I’m locked out!” Wafting his arms in the air- the towel soon disappeared. Creating jaws in the reception to drop to the floor in sync. “What? Have you never seen a naked man before?”

“Sir... please....” The young receptionist pleaded.

“If I hear you say ‘Sir’ one more time, I will get the prince to lock you up in his dungeon.... I AM A FUCKING DUKE YOU IMBECILE!” To avoid more of a commotion, the receptionist handed Bertrand a sign to hold against his private parts. Out of order. To cover his buttocks up- she handed him another sign; No exit.

Chapter 2

Riley headed down to the hotel lobby, mainly needing to grab some breakfast to sober up. Still feeling slightly drunk, she had debated whether or not to eat or do the hair of the dog.

“Blossom! There you are!” Jumping out of her skin to begin with- she was relieved when Maxwell was on his own.

“Here I am...” Where should I have been? Did I miss a memo?

“I was so worried about you.”

“You were?”

“Yes. We’ve lost Liam. Then I came to find you and couldn’t see you anywhere. Bertrand- well I found him naked on the bathroom floor. With two... forget about Bertrand. Where have you been? You smell manly. Have you ran out of that black opium already?”

“Well I was in my room all night. The jet lag must have knocked me unconscious...” Lying, she didn’t want to admit that she had a blissful night with the prince. “What do you mean I smell manly?” Having a discreet sniff of herself, she couldn’t smell anything.

“You smell of aftershave. It’s similar to what Drake and Liam wear. Are you sure that you was alone?” Shit.

“Erm, I fell over on the way down here. A man who works here helped me. He must have been wearing the same aftershave. There’s not only people in Cordonia who wear it Max! Although I did bump into Daniel at some point. It could have been him? I was on my own, all night. Believe me.” Please believe me.

****

The American Adventure

Warnings: Swearing

“Riley?” The line cut off.

It wasn’t her, that’s why she hung up. How useless is Glen? We are looking for Leo. Unless Leo has a secret that he’s keeping from us all.

“Hey, Li. Wrong number. Fuck it, forget about Leo. If we can’t track him down we will just go to New York without him. As Bastien said, you need to have a bachelor party before the shit show of a social season begins.” Liam didn’t require Drake to remind him of what his future held for him. The lack of freedom and choices he could have made him wish at times that he wasn’t now the next in line.

“Glen was sure that was the correct number.” Liam glared at his head guard, who just shrugged his shoulders.

“Unless Leo’s turned into some obnoxious Yankee bitch- then no it’s the wrong number. I’ll just go and pack a bag and come back with you. Give me five minutes.” Waiting for Drake to be out of view, Glen gulped before defending himself to his monarch.

“That was the number that you provided me with your highness- and I confirmed it. Somebody else must have that number now. Not, Riley.”

“Glen, once we get back to the palace- do another thorougher search on Lindsey and Riley Brooks.” Liam whispered.

“But, your highness... you’ve been trying to do this for over a decade now. Myself and Bastien - we tried....”

“Glen, don’t question my actions. Please. I am pleading with you to do this one more time. Bastien always avoided doing this for myself. For Drake. I don’t know why? But it seemed like he knew something but kept it from the both of us. If we can’t find them, then I’ll accept defeat.”

“Yes Sir, what about Prince Leo?”

“Leave Leo to me, I already know where he is. He’s closer to us than you all think.”

***

The Unexpected Roommate

Just a short sneak peek for this one. Don’t want to give too much away.

Pairings: Drake x Riley, Leo x Olivia, Liam x ?

⚠️Warnings: Swearing, pranks, alcohol mention, end of a relationship.

Once she had packed all of her belongings, she looked around the apartment- feeling slightly sentimental. Leaving the keys on the table, she didn’t want to keep them. Instead, she wanted to close this chapter of her life- being Drake Walker’s roommate.

“Shit! The cupcakes!” Racing over to the oven- she had completely forgotten about her goodbye gesture that was now impersonating a charcoaled sausage. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Emptying the cupboards, food items were now scattered everywhere until she stumbled across a basic Victoria sponge cake. That’ll do.

~ ~ ~

Drake and Leo returned to the apartment- slightly later than the two of them had anticipated. Whilst they sat in the bar, Drake thought back to Riley’s words. Regretting denying that she could be correct, he had hoped that she would have reconsidered about staying with Olivia. He needed to apologise, talk openly to her- before he lost her for good.

“It’s ‘oh so quiet’... awww she’s made us a cake with a message on it, Drake.”

Au reviour, Dickheads...Ri xo

“She’s a fucking scruff! Have you seen all of the burnt cupcakes? The washing up pile? Food everywhere! She’s fucked off and not cleaned up after herself!”

“Drake, calm down. You’re going to give yourself a heart attack. How the two of you lived together and not killed each other is beyond me. Let’s tuck in.” Drake shook his head as he watched Leo dive in like a starved caveman. Staring vacantly at the scene surrounding them, he had no idea where to begin to clean up after Riley.

“This is disgusting! It tastes weird... just try a bit, buddy. I think my taste buds are playing tricks with me.” Taking one glance at the cake, Drake rolled his eyes back after inhaling the aroma of the sponge cake.

“It tastes weird because it’s not what you’d usually top a cake or dessert with. How stupid could you be eating something before smelling it?”

“It looked soooo scrumptious. When you’ve been drinking, you’re starving. What is it then Mr Clever clogs?” Leo sarcastically said.

“You use it with a razor!”

****

Unnamed one shot

I decided to do a one shot based on my labour of my little girl. It was short in comparison to most labours- but so much happened. Looking back now, I find it slightly hilarious.

⚠️Warnings: Alcohol mention, labour.

Ten minutes later- Savannah knocked on the door. Wearing her pajamas, Ugg boots and a parka coat- Riley knew it was cold outside, it was December after all. But she believed that Savannah would have come fully dressed as she had taken a long time to arrive when she lives on the next road. As she entered the house- she witnessed her brother pouring whiskey into his cup of tea. Shaking. Panicking. Wondering how the labour was going to go. Would he be a good birth partner again? Would it all go to plan?

“Great minds, bro.” As she said this, a can of Strongbow magically appeared from her coat pocket. Bitches I’m the one in labour, why are you both drinking alcohol?

“Can you one of you just get me some pain relief please? It’s in the top drawer...” Savannah looked at Drake with a perplexed expression, wondering what Riley meant with her words. Lucky Drake knew what his girlfriend was referring to. He didn’t agree with her choice. But also wouldn’t want her to turn into ‘she hulk’ if he refused to give her it.

[manage-mischief]

Number 4, Privet Drive

Read on AO3 or FF.net

Summary: Today is Harry's 5th birthday, and his godfathers have a surprise in store. AU: In which Sirius Black and Remus Lupin raise Harry, and Number 4 Privet Drive is his happy place.

Notes: Enjoy a little bit of hastily-written wolfstar fluff in honor of Harry Potter's birthday. There’s also a little nod to my other series, Regulus Black and the Darkest Shadows, if you squint ;)

Disclaimer: I do not how Harry Potter.

It was a sweltering, sunny July day. Residents of Privet Drive peaked out of their open windows—on the pretense of getting a bit of fresh air—to try and catch a glimpse of the curious commotion emanating from the equally-curious inhabitants of house number 4. The exterior of Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, was unremarkable. It was a carbon copy of the other homes on the block, which was a carbon copy of the other blocks in the town. However, the residents of Privet Drive knew that the happenings inside of this particular house were by no means ordinary.

On this day, inside the quaint, unremarkable house, two young men were standing near the fireplace mantle, hanging a green and purple banner. The darker-haired man—whose long, unruly locks and rebellious style unnerved the neighbors—was standing precariously on a chair. The lighter-haired man, whose face was friendly, though covered with a multitude of nasty scars, was spotting his partner, ensuring that he didn’t fall.

“No, just a little higher…” Sirius, the darker-haired man, grunted, stretching and climbing higher to fix the banner.

“Ouch, Sirius, that was my head!” Remus, the lighter-haired man, cried indignantly as his partner stepped onto his skull.

“Whoops sorry, Moons…just a little bit higher…there! Perfect!” Sirius hopped down from his perch and stepped back to admire his work. Remus rubbed his head.

“Honestly, Sirius, Harry wouldn’t have cared if the banner was a bit crooked. He’s only 5!”

Sirius shook his head firmly. “No. Everything’s going to be perfect for my little Pronglet’s special day. Are you trying to ruin Harry’s birthday, Remus?”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Now, you know that’s not fair. I would never—”

“Great,” interrupted Sirius. “So, you’ll help me finish the decorations? Reg’ll be back with Harry from the zoo in about half an hour.”

Sirius wrapped his arms around his partner from behind and planted a kiss on his cheek. Remus chuckled.

“Of course, love.”

---

Before Remus Lupin and Sirius Black had moved in, Number 4 Privet Drive had belonged to a man named Dursley and his wife. The Dursleys were perfectly ordinary—if bit rude—and fit in very well with the monotonous existence of Privet Drive. However, on Halloween night of 1981, life on Privet Drive had been changed forever.

The Dursleys had received into their care their nephew, a little orphaned baby boy by the name of Harry Potter. The Dursleys had not wanted Harry Potter. Within days, it became clear to everyone living on the block that they were not properly caring for the boy. An eccentric old woman named Arabella Figg had blown up in their living room, berating the family for their mistreatment of the boy. The neighbors had watched the argument through the cracks in their curtains. When Mrs. Figg had gone, most of the neighbors had gone to bed, whispering back and forth to their families about the strange situation. Drama did not often occur on Privet Drive.

The next day, two young men appeared on the Dursleys’ doorstep. The men entered Number 4. Two hours later, the Dursleys left it. Sans Harry. It was clear to every resident of Little Whinging that these men did not belong. They were young, loud, and often spoke of unusual words and people and places. Remus Lupin and Sirius Black quickly became the talk of the town. Even after four years of peaceful living, most of the neighbors on Privet Drive still eavesdropped every chance they got, hoping from some tantalizing clue as to what made these two men so particularly peculiar.

Remus Lupin was quite aware of the talk surrounding himself and his little family. He didn’t much mind. When he and his partner, Sirius, had been informed of the mistreatment occurring at the hands of the Dursleys, they had no choice but to pack up everything and move into the Muggle neighborhood. That was their ultimatum, according to Dumbledore. Harry Potter must remain living in connection with his mother’s blood. The Dursleys still owned the deed to Number 4 Privet Drive. But, Sirius Black had offered them a large sum of money to leave their house, and their nephew, in his care. Thus, Remus and Sirius, the two adult wizards, settled into domestic living with their best friend’s orphaned son. Remus and Sirius loved Harry more than anything in their lives. Living a life separated from the majority of the magical world was a small price to pay for their godson’s safety.

Today was Harry Potter’s fifth birthday, and Remus and Sirius had planned a large surprise party for the occasion. They had invited all of Harry’s little friends, as well as their own adult friends, to celebrate.

“Rem, people are coming!” Sirius jumped up and down excitedly. Remus smiled. Sirius became more and more like his dog Animagus form with each passing day. Remus strolled down the narrow hallway to answer the door, Sirius on his heels.

“Minerva, how lovely to see you!” Remus embraced the older, severe-looking witch. Sirius followed suit.

“Minnie, always a pleasure!” The dark-haired man grinned, mischievously. He gave her a large, wet kiss on the cheek. Minerva McGonagall shook her head disdainfully.

“Sirius Black, I do hope you’re not exerting too much of a negative influence on Harry. It’s only six years now before he comes to Hogwarts and I don’t think my heart can take another you.”

“Ah, c’mon, Minnie, you loved teaching me!” Sirius laughed. “Besides, Remus here balances me out!” He wrapped his arm around his partner. Minerva tried to look disapproving, but couldn’t hide her growing smile.

“Well, come on in, Minerva. Sirius’s brother is bringing Harry along soon.” Remus gestured towards the hall, ushering the older witch inside their home. She stopped along the way to admire the many pictures adorning the walls. Every photograph contained images of Harry, occasionally accompanied by Remus, Sirius, or both. It was clear to every visitor in the home that Harry Potter was adored—that he was a happy little boy. This thought made Minerva smile. Her eyes teared up a bit as she looked back towards Sirius and Remus, who were wrapped around each other, inviting more of Harry’s guests into the house.

Half an hour later, the living room of Number 4 was packed to the brim with guests. Remus had drawn the curtains and flipped off the lights. He peaked through the shades, searching for any sign of Harry’s arrival.

“Are they here yet?” Sirius whispered anxiously, crouched down next to him.

“No, not since you asked five bloody seconds ago!” Remus hissed, turning for a moment to look at Sirius. He peaked his head back out.

“Are you sure you told them the right time? I mean—”

“Quiet!” exclaimed Remus. “They’re coming!”

Sirius shoved Remus out of the way to have a look for himself. Sure enough, strolling down the way toward the little house was his younger brother, Regulus Black, accompanied by his fiancée and Harry, the man of the hour.

“Hush, everyone, they’re coming!” Sirius whispered urgently. The room fell silent, apart from the sounds of the breaths of the gathered guests. One minute later, there was a knock on the door. Regulus’s signal.

Remus went to let them in. He shook his brother and future sister in laws’ hands before Harry seized him by the waist in a strong hug.

“Uncle Moony!” Harry exclaimed as he happily bounded into the house. “We had such a good time at the zoo! We got to see the big snakes!”

Remus grinned at his adoptive son, brimming with joy. “That’s wonderful, Harry! I know how much you love the snakes.’

“Yeah,” the boy agreed earnestly. “And look, Uncle Reg bought me this.” He held up a large, stuffed python proudly. Remus nodded appreciatively.

“Wow, lucky you! Did you thank your aunt and uncle for the birthday gift?”

“Yep!” Harry said happily. “Where’s Uncle Pads? Is it cake time?” Harry was almost vibrating with excitement.

“Why yes, I think it is. Why don’t you lead the way into the living room? I think Uncle Padfoot is waiting for you there.” Remus smiled slyly, exchanging a cunning look with Regulus before following Harry down the hall.

“SURPRISE!!!!” The lights flickered on and the guests jumped up as Harry entered the room. Harry grinned widely, revealing his missing front tooth. He laughed and jumped into Sirius’s arms.

“Wow! Look at all these people!” said Harry, wondrously.

“Yeah, Pronglet,” said Sirius. “They’re all here for you! Not every day a man turns five, now is it?”

But, Harry had stopped listening. He’d ran towards his best friends, the Weasley children, who all squealed excitedly at the sight of him. Remus wrapped an arm around Sirius’s waist and planted a quick kiss on his lips.

“Good job,” said Remus.

“We should go into the party planning business,” Sirius teased back.

“Merlin, just as long as you don’t rope me in every time.” Regulus had materialized behind the couple.

Sirius turned to his brother and shook his hand. “Good to see you, Reg. Thanks for coming.”

“Anything for my nephew. You know, he’s a lot more fun to be around than you were at that age.” Regulus smirked. Sirius pretended to be hurt.

“Now, now, no brotherly rivalries today!” Regulus’s fiancée scolded the boys playfully. “But really wonderful job, you two. Harry looks so happy.”

“He certainly does.” Minerva McGonagall had joined the conversation.

The adults gazed over at the young Potter boy, who was now playing an intense game of Gobstones with his friends. Sirius felt tears prickle in his eyes.

“I hope so. I know it’s not the same as if Lily and James were—”

“I know, Sirius,” said Remus softly, holding tight to his lover. “I miss them, too. Especially on days like today. But, I think, somewhere, they’re happy, knowing Harry is being taken care of in a loving home.”

Sirius sighed, resting a head on Remus’s shoulder. “You’re right, Moons. I just…I love him, and you, so much.”

“I love you, too Sirius.”

“We want cake!” Their child’s scream interrupted the tender moment. The two young men laughed.

“Okay, Harry,” said Sirius, racing up to him and lifting him off of the ground in a massive hug. “I guess it must be time for cake!”

[writingpuddle]

“Don’t you ever get lonely?” Nicky asked, digging in his pack for a chocolate bar. To their left, the cliff dropped away precipitously, sheer granite cliffs like sentinels at the end of the world.

Neil stared at Nicky. “No,” he said.

“What, never?”

Neil looked out across the sweeping vista of mountains before them. A speck that could have been a hawk or a raven or a sparrow spun against the sky, too small and distant to judge. He’d stood in the middle of busy cities; he’d gone to school with hundreds; he’d even tried out for a track and field team once. He’d been surrounded by people, and he had been so ferociously lonely it had been like a knife in his chest.

“No,” he said, because he didn’t know how to explain—didn’t even want to, really. He’d felt more alone back in the so-called real world than he’d ever felt in the wilderness, miles from any other person. When there was no one around, there was no one to miss.

~~~The Long-Distance Hiker AU (A Bullet Point Fic)~~~

So after Neil’s mom died he kinda of ghosted around for a while and eventually ended up in a small hiking town in California

He met a bunch of thru hikers and figured, hey, my dad probably won’t find me if I’ve fucked off into the wilderness

So he starts hiking

And pretty soon he realizes it’s the best thing he could imagine

He spends all summer in the mountains and when winter rolls around he finds a temporary job in a skiing town working in a second hand gear shop

He’s an ultralighter in the most accidental sense possible

His gear is weird and cobbled together and his shoes are held together with dental floss

He sleeps under a tarp with a down blanket and a thin foam mat and he’ll eat the same shit day in day out without even registering it while he covers frankly obscene distances every single day

It basically gives Kevin an ulcer

Kevin’s an ultralighter, but in the stuck up, rich bitch way; his gear is probably worth thousands of dollars and he’ll lecture anyone who listens about ripstop nylon and is super snobby and elitist about who is a so-called “real” thru hiker (hint: anyone who doesn’t do it his way isn’t a real thru hiker)

(don’t worry he’ll get smacked around a little by people like Dan and stop being such a little bitch about it but he grew up rich so even though it might’ve been shit living with Riko he really doesn’t always take into consideration the context of how much fucking money gear costs when he’s preaching about ultralighting)

(yes I’m taking out my dislike for pretentious rich ultralighters on him, okay, but the difference is he’ll have character growth versus the people I met are probably still being preachy and self-important to this day)

Andrew’s like the exact opposite

His pack weighs like seventy pounds and he’ll pull a six-inch knife (a gross misuse of smart gear weight management) at anyone who comments

He has a completely contained single person tent that’s big enough to sit up in and a four-inch inflatable mattress

His sleeping bag is rated to like -20 even when he’s hiking in the summer

Nicky swears he once saw him pull a full-sized chocolate cake out of his backpack three days down the trail and everyone says that’s stupid and made up but secretly think its totally true

Andrew likes to hike alone but somehow he’s never more than a day away from Aaron and Nicky and when he keeps showing up near them it gets harder and harder to pretend like he doesn’t actually care about them

Nobody says anything, obviously, but Nicky gets a little teary when he starts to notice the pattern

It was Nicky’s idea; in this universe Erik got him into hiking when he was in Germany so he got the cousins into it as a bonding exercise and then it turned out it was the best family activity they had ever found

This is several years after they graduated and they’ve scrounged together enough time and money to hike the Pacific Crest Trail

Now the upperclassmen:

So Stephanie Walker is a trail angel: one of those people who lives near a long trail and provides snacks and rides and somewhere to stay and basically helps out anyone who comes by with whatever’s going on; she’s pulled a lot of people out of frankly dangerous situations and she’s not afraid of anything the trail has to offer

So Renee finds herself and her faith while living this life of meeting new hikers every day and it’s almost inevitable that she starts to hike and find solace in the wilderness

Allison is one of those Wild types: she’s done some hiking (much to her parents’ chagrin) but she’s never done a thru trail or even much overnighting before, but she’s ready to throw herself into it and doesn’t care how dirty she gets

She totally carries a tiny spa package though

The other women are very skeptical because they take pride in being free from societies expectations and make up and shaving but they come around after Allison pulls it out one time when they’re seven days into a ten day section and gives them face masks and they all have a little pedicure pampering session (so, so needed when your feet are being beaten and bruised by hard terrain all day)

She has a lot of new, expensive gear and is super touchy about people trying to help her (because a beautiful woman absolutely gets people trying to “help” all the time and it’s infuriating and condescending) but she learns to accept help from her closest friends

She was showing off near the beginning of the trail drinking with a bunch of guys and probably got too sloshed trying to act tough (alcohol hits you waaaay harder at high elevations dude, if you’re not expecting it you can get Fucked Up really fast)

It’s Seth who realizes things are getting out of control and pulls her out before the guys can do anything shitty which is how their friendship and eventually their relationship gets started

They piss everyone off with their constant breaking up and getting back together on the trail, sometimes hiking together for days and then splitting up and going to hike with other people but they find a lot of healing out there in the woods

Seth’s mom is totally dismissive and condescending of his hiking, she thinks it’s a stupid waste of time, but she thinks everything he does is a stupid waste of time so at least when he’s out there without cell service he has an excuse to not respond to her

Now Dan

Dan’s trailer trash, right

She’s got no fucking cash but she has this dream in her head to hike the PCT and she’s going to fucking well do it

Her gear is probably most similar to Neil’s except where his is a mess of weird priorities and held together by spit and twine

Hers is meticulously planned

It’s cheap, some of it’s over forty years old, but it’s hers

It’s probably the only stuff in the world that’s actually hers

She accumulated it over about four years, hitting all the second-hand gear events, saving up every penny, packing and repacking and writing everything out in great detail until David Wymack got wind of her plans at a gear event

He’s one of those guys who hiked the PCT thirty years ago back before anyone knew what it was except instead of feeling superior about that it means he knows exactly how much impact experiencing the wilderness can have for disenfranchised people

He approaches Dan and offers to sponsor her hike

She’s resistant at first; she planned this hike, she got all the stuff together, she was going to do it without anyone’s help

But he comes back and says he just wants her to write about her experiences and publish it on his website

He’ll pay her for the work, of course

And she wavers and finally caves because this will move her plans up by about two years if she can make money while she’s hiking instead of having to hoard up enough cash to take six whole months off

Her blog posts are a huge hit

She doesn’t preach about how the mountains saved her, or get too metaphorical about hiking or anything like that

She just talks about the real, raw experience of hiking

The friendships, the trials, the triumphs

The infuriating people whose mental image of the hiking community doesn’t include poor black girls who grew up in a trailer park, who say she’s an inspiration like they actually mean something else

She talks about the days that she flies up the mountains and the days that she can barely drag herself out of her tent and the day she realizes that Allison and Renee, these women she thought could not be more different from her, are the best friends she’s ever had in the world

And she’s takes fucking amazing pictures

She’s also very determined not to have a trail romance

That’s stupid and cliché

Look that guy Matt might be hot but she’s not interested

He’s clearly working through some stuff and she’s not here to be some guys savior or whatever

So Matt then

His mom helped him get sober a couple years ago and he’s been struggling with it ever since

She got him into hiking as an outlet and a healthy hobby and he took to it like a fish to water

He’s got legs for days and he doesn’t mind carrying a heavy pack, he can hike for hours without stopping

(The fact that he’s faster than her pisses Dan off a bit, but sometimes you gotta accept that you’ve got short legs and just hike your own hike, there aren’t any prizes for speed)

He relapsed again a couple months before his hike started and he and Randy weren’t even sure if he was going to be able to do it but he’s damned well going to try

So anyway

Pretty much everyone is trying to actually hike the PCT except Neil

He drives everyone bonkers

His motivation isn’t really about the trail so much as staying out in the wilderness where there are no gangsters to murder you

So he just does whatever he wants and keeps showing up at random points

He’s technically got one of the thru hiker permits but he frequently goes off on side trails not on the PCT and ends up hiding out in the woods so rangers won’t find him

He’ll just hitchhike straight through boring sections or anywhere that you pass through too many towns where he’d rather not be remembered

He keeps coming back to the PCT but it’s more like it’s a rough guideline of where to go than an actual route he’s taking

He’s got his natural colouring back because who’s dying their hair or wearing fucking contacts on the trail?

But also

Who would ever associate a runaway mafia kid with a guy with overgrown hair and a stained t-shirt who’s sitting serenely on a mountain pass in a photo on David Wymack’s website?

Nobody

That’s right kids, Nathan doesn’t have a role in this one because he doesn’t find Neil

Maybe he gets killed in a shoot out or something and some other gangster steps up and takes over, and in the shuffle Neil’s just kinda forgotten

Maybe he finds out months later and he just stares at the computer in shock because he should have known, shouldn’t he? He should have felt it when his father died

He should have realized that he was free

That happens later though

Who fucking cares what Riko’s doing honestly

Kevin has somehow attached himself to Andrew and is driving him up the wall with advice to improve his hiking/base weight/distance/etc and he sees this guy (Neil) who regularly covers like thirty or forty miles a day (obscene!) and is like YES this guy is my people!

Except when he starts talking to Neil he realizes he’s this total weirdo who doesn’t even have a cook set he just eats cold food (a common enough thing among ultralighters, but not like this. Oh god, not like this)

Neil’s just sitting there gnawing on a pack of uncooked ramen like a fucking animal

And he’s not! Even! Hiking! Properly!

You’ll never finish the trail if you hike like this!

Neil just gives him a blank look

He’s got no interest on getting on some “verified” list of people who hiked the PCT, he just likes hiking

Andrew likes him

I mean obviously he despises him what the hell is with that janky ass setup but also he’s so unconventional and unapologetic how could Andrew not be into that?

They’re the kind of people who give wilderness rescue personnel grey hair, but for completely opposite reasons

Neil keeps running into them because even though he covers so much ground every day, his meandering route means he doesn’t actually move down the trail very fast

They’ll be like wait weren’t you like a week ahead of us and he’s like oh yeah I heard about this cool waterfall and took a sixty mile side trail to visit it and nearly ran into a momma bear with two cubs, it was awesome

And they all start to grow on him, and each other, almost accidentally

Look none of them are out there romanticizing the trail as some kind of magical place where the problems of the real world disappear and the people are somehow more pure and true or whatever

People are people and they bring their issues wherever they go

But there is a paring down

When your daily concerns are just mileage and shoes and food and weather, a lot of other stuff fades into the background

And well the truth is a lot of people are on those trails to work through stuff

And they find each other

Gradually, without even really noticing

They team up in June, groups of three or four with crampons and ice axes to get over the Sierra’s.

Neil was planning to just do side hikes and wait for the snow to melt—he isn’t so reckless he wants to go over the ice alone, but Kevin insists he join them and for the first time he hikes in a group with Kevin and the cousins all together.

It’s weird

He’s not used to people talking to him when he’s hiking and he frequently doesn’t respond and it’s not because he’s being rude he’s just so focussed on what he’s doing and what’s around him that he literally doesn’t hear them

And then

Nicky slips

It’s not his fault, they did nearly everything right (Kevin may be a pretentious ass, but he does know his shit) but sometimes shit just happens for no reason

And they’re at the edge of the ice sheet so Nicky’s just untying himself from the rope that links them together, he’s not even moving, and the snow beneath him shifts and he doesn’t even have time to scream before he’s hurtling down the snow below the trail towards the cliff at the bottom of the ice sheet

Neil doesn’t even hesitate

He dives after him, ice axe in one hand like a fucking gladiator and gets his arm wrapped around Nicky’s waist

He slams the ice axe into the snow and it drags behind them, and it looks like it’s not going to catch, and the edge is getting closer and closer—

Until the axe catches something, and Nicky and Neil lurch to a halt, clinging to each other, hanging off of Neil’s one arm and the axe.

Neil looks up and sees Andrew, Aaron and Kevin in various places on the slope above them, their axes dug in and long gouge marks in the snow beneath their heels, strung together by a ropeline that’s still attached to Neil’s waist

That rope is probably the only thing that slowed them down enough that Neil could stop them without ripping his arm clean off

It’s hardly a by-the-book rescue, and in fact it was pretty stupid, but they’re okay, they’re okay, that’s all that matters

That night they light a fire down by a lake and Nicky cries on Aaron’s shoulder and Andrew keeps clenching his fists because he’s never felt so helpless in his life and it was Neil that jumped, not him

He knows that he was at the far end of the line and he would’ve made it worse if he had, but doing nothing while Neil risked his life to save Nicky

They don’t really talk about it

But you kind of can’t help being friends after that

And even after they’re out of the high mountains and back on solid trails Neil keeps tabs on them

And Nicky befriends the others and without even meaning to they start to develop a sort of loose trail family vibe

They’re not hiking together all the time like some of the groups they meet, but they check on each other all the time and wait up in resupply villages and bond over firepits and shitty hot chocolate mixes and swap tips on how to keep the butt-chafing at bay

Neil sticks to the outskirts, mostly, but he starts to open up a little, in fits and spurts, tiny non-specific things that wouldn’t even register to most people but that this particular group knows means more than that

He’s slowing down, too, sometimes hiking entire days with people and covering half his usual distance even when there’s no cliffs or glaciers threatening him

He likes hiking with Andrew the most, though

Because neither of them are big talkers when they’re hiking and Andrew’s pack might be absurdly heavy but he’s got legs the size of tree trunks and endurance to match, so he might not be fast but he can outwalk half the people on the trail by sheer relentlessness

They both like to camp up high, near treeline (so Neil can set up his tarp) and in the places that it’s legal they’ll start a small fire and Andrew will loan Neil his pot so he can actually cook his fucking ramen for once and sometimes they’ll watch the Milky Way rise and share secrets under the open sky, not looking at each other so they don’t break the illusion, and sometimes they won’t say anything at all but it’s okay, because they’re saying nothing together.

It’s nice

It’s maybe more than nice

The summer draws to a close and Neil is starting to realize that he doesn’t want it to

He never wants the hiking season to end but this time it’s different

This summer has been perfect

And he knows deep in his bones that once they leave the trail things will change

The others have lives to return to, and Neil…

The trail is all he has

And if he’s barely hiking alone at all these days, well, who’s going to call him out on it?

The others like having him around because he stops them from getting too fixated on the Trail to see the trail

He still takes side trips but now sometimes people will come along and he’ll stand at the base of a canyon staring up at the glossy white walls and Dan will snap a photo for her blog and smile, because the PCT is just a line on a map, but the hike is all of them; together

He’s hiking with Andrew in September when a storm hits, this time vicious

Neil huddles under his tarp in resignation

Storms suck, he always gets wet, no matter how much he lowers the tarp, but he’s used to it; he just waits it out

But it’s just getting worse

Hail lashing at the tarp and pummelling the ground and maybe for once he regrets camping so high up

And Andrew has to shout to be heard but finally Neil realizes he’s offering to let Neil come into his tent

You’re going fucking freeze, just get in here

Neil goes

It’s weird

It’s instantly weird

The tent is not built for two people, so they’re both sitting cross legged with their heads ducked to not press against the roof

The storms probably not going to let up soon, Andrew says

Yeah, Neil says.

Andrew sighs

Lie down, he says, and Neil does, and Andrew lies down next to him, shoulder to shoulder

It barely works, only because neither of them are very big people

Neil’s pack is outside wrapped in his tarp and all he has is his damp down blanket but he’s not cold anymore, not with Andrew bundled up in his ridiculous sleeping bag right next to him

The storm rages for nearly two days and what passes between them in that tent, nobody knows

If they’re barely ever seen apart after it, well. You only see people so often on the trail. It could easily be a coincidence

And if Neil doesn’t even set his tarp up on rainy nights anymore, well. They never camp near other people anyway, so who’s to know?

In early October the snow blows in, blocking the route to the finish.

They drift around a resupply village for almost two weeks, waiting for the trail to reopen, but finally even Kevin accepts that it isn’t going to

After all of that, none of them are going to finish the trail

It’s a disappointment—of course it is. For most of them, the end of their trip is now a nondescript exit into a village, no fanfare, no closure; they didn’t even know they were done for days

Still, it’s not so bad

They’re all together

Allison suggests Vegas, but they all laugh it down; they wouldn’t even know how right now, bearded and hairy and ravenous as they are

They go to South Carolina instead

It’s not really even discussed that they’ll stay together, they just all go; Allison hosts them at her resort and they laugh at the incongruous weirdness of seeing each other in real clothes, and it’s different, but it’s also okay

They stay for another two weeks, and they don’t hike another fucking inch

We should try the Continental Divide Trail sometime, Dan says

Her blog is so popular now that she’s got sponsorships from more than just Wymack waiting for her

She could make a career out of hiking and blogging and doing gear reviews and it’s a dream she’d never even realized she wanted until she had it

And if she accidentally fucked up and ended up with a hot trail boyfriend? Well, nobody’s perfect

And he has a great butt

(she has photos of it on her blog, from when they jumped into a glacier lake naked back in August)

Everyone is jealous

How about that trek in Iceland? Matt suggests

Or the whats-it-called in New Zealand, Allison says

Oh, I bet there’s some good ones in Europe! Nicky says. You guys can all meet Erik!

And it’s going to be different, but it’s not going away, and Neil feels calm in a way he never has at the end of a hiking season before

Eventually everyone has to start making plans to return to their lives, and jobs, and Neil sneaks out to the back of the house to sit in crisp fall air and watch leaves spiral down out of the trees

Andrew follows him

They sit together, watching the moon rise over the hills, and when Andrew asks Neil to come home, Neil says yes

[wolfofwinchester]

💘 / I'm getting to ours but I'd like to see what you have in mind uvu!

send me 💘 + A SHIP and i’ll tell you—

where they first met and how

When Lord Phantomhive brought home his bastard, a few key villainous nobles were present to meet her a few days after her arrival. The Undertaker was among them, although he was hidden away and out of her eyesight so she never really seen him outside of flashes of silver and a flow of black. Inevitably, it turned into The Hunt of her trying to find out who this mysterious “Aristocrat” was.  

how long their ‘flirting’ phase was before feelings got involved

I could see playful flirtations being part of their aesthetic. It fits, I think! Never serious before and they knew it, they were just messing around with winks and flirtatious comments, sometimes getting a rise out of the other, other times pretending to be one another’s significant other for reasons of their own (let it be getting a free meal for Valentine’s Day or for a cover-up where they’re both in disguise). As such, I think the playfulness went on for a gooooood while, some years of cozy play before things got r e a l.

who fell for who first ( if applicable )

To even their writers, I feel this is meant to be ambiguous. 🙊 They’re That Kind of Couple.

where their first date was and what it was like

I think they both thought it more comfortable if it was a private affair; nothing so public as a dinner at a restaurant, and nothing so closed-in as the manor. I think their first date was something of a very elegant and rich picnic somewhere in the countryisde, lost from civilzation and farm buildings. A little peace of solitude where they got to enjoy one another’s company while Lilac chased the hounds around the rolling fields of green. 

A picnic and just wiling away the hours talking, huddled up side-by-side and safe from blinding light beneath an enormous willow tree. After that, I think they went back to Azrael’s Funeral Parlor and spent the rest of the evening there just having laughs and wine. Just a really long, and really good day that ended with both of them snoozing in Azrael’s coffin. It’s not made for two people, so Claudia slept on top of him and he held her the whole night through. They woke to find Lilac sleeping on top of her and a floor flooded with hound dogs + Gelert. 

who asks who out and how ( with a sign? spelled out on a cake? just a simple ‘will you go out with me’? )

Azrael steals first proclamation of love and kiss, but Claudia steals these moments. She made the first step after their confessions, asking with a sly grin if he’d like to have dinner with her. It was done very smoothly while they were still in the afterglow of requited feelings, when they were both basking and feeling that glowing mirth. An hour or so after that, I believe. 

who proposes first

Claudia, absolutely. Marriage is never a concern of Azrael’s, he’s fine with things as they are! It’s never a required step in his mind. He goes with his lover’s flow.

if they keep / kept their relationship secret or let everyone know right away

Claudia’s rebellion in the Watchdog role succeeded into her relationship. Azrael’s vigilant and he wants them to stay a secret for Claudia’s own good in her public image, but Claudia’s ambitious nature to not let this life control her gently tussles with that. As such, the public sees them as a very odd pair, not there’s no confirmation of their relationship. They’re a forbidden romance waltzing in plain sight who have rumors spark up that end up hushed immediately.

“We’ll be discovered,” He whispers into her lips, earning a sharp-toothed grin that nips his bottom lip. “And so what? I’m already goin’ down in history as the most notorious Bastard of Phantomhive. ♪”

where the proposal happens and how ( kiss cam at a baseball game? on a hillside surrounded by ducks? at a disney park? )

It wasn’t precisely the ideal or dreamy, romantic proposal Claudia wanted it to be. For over a year, she’d been secretly working on the perfect ring for Azrael in her workshop, and it’s led to many rejects she felt were never perfect. The frustration of an artist led to art block, and that clashed direly with her desire to propose to the man! Lots of ring rejects! Despite them all being quite lovely, she never felt they were correct. There were strings of rings around her workshop at this point that she turned to for inspiration.

Finally, she had the perfect ring. Polished, and just right. The hyper glory of having perfected the ring after this long led the very tired, frazzled and disheveled woodworker zipping on horseback into London to that old Funeral Parlor, throwing open the door, finding a VERY befuddled Azrael who hadn’t seen her in days, and proceeding to capture his wedding hand.

For a solid minute, Azrael swore he seen his unlife flash before his eyes with how fast she approached him! He thought he did something wrong, or was falsely accused! You’d never seen a more bewildered man be proposed to by a very exhausted but very passionate woman. From an outsider’s point of view, it was hilarious before it became very tender and quiet. ???? WHAT’D I D- oooh?

It wasn’t scenic, but it was full of heart. Claudia apologized for storming in, but she had to do this right away because she couldn’t hold herself back another minute. She told him how important he was to her, and how important he’s been to her. He’s been her sole companion who didn’t need to be by her side, but he chose to be, despite how dangerous her life is and how loony of a woman she is. He’s been her trusted companion, and in this life, he’d come to be her best friend over so many years of them knowing each other. 

It went from flighty to quiet and emotional. She asked him to marry her, and whattaya know, he accepted.

if they adopt any pets together

They’re pretty happy with their fuzzy family already, but I think Azrael’s tendency to take in strays leads to them having a few kits down the road. Any cat of his at this point is extended to being auto-adopted by Claudia.

who’s more dominant

They’re.. both dominant. Unless Claudia’s having a low energy day where she gives Azrael the full reins (which he loves), she’s right there tussling for control and they’re both playfully wrestling and nipping! They both get their time on top before someone gets coherent enough to flip, and the cycle continues.

where their first kiss was and what it was like

It was very cute. Like the rascals they are, they were chasing one another in the forest behind Phantomhive Manor, a fox chasing a wolf. It was Autumn, and the sun was creeping across the sky. There was a chill in the air enough to see one’s breath. Azrael caught up to Claudia and towered over her after she’d hid behind a tree, and they shared a laugh.

The Fall light was hitting her so sweetly, though. The way the orange light danced across her sapphire eyes and skin as she beamed up to him so slyly. He had to kiss her, and it stunned her entirely in the best way.

if they have any matching couples stuff ( mugs? sweaters? pillowcases? )

“If lost, return to [x]” shirts for the modern age, definitely. For a more time appropriate thing, they have matching hand mirrors that they’ve poured their hearts and soul into enchanting. It’s an imperfect enchantment, but it lets them see the other so they can check on one another throughout the day. 

They’re mirrors bound with their love. When Claudia died, all other hand mirrors they’ve ever used to communicate their secret messages through shattered, but Azrael’s enchanted hand mirror, and Claudia’s, survived. 

On a more casual level, they both have matching sleep shirts. Black poet styled shirts that are very big and drape on their persons so they can effortlessly wear one another’s without issue!

how into pda they are

They’ve always been a connected duo, so it’s not out of the park to see the with joined arms or holding hands. They’re constantly cuddled up, although Azrael becomes very aware of how affectionate they’re being time-to-time, only to be consoled back into comfort by Claudia. 

They’re very PDA, but Azrael is sometimes wary when things like kissing begins. They oft hide behind Claudia’s fan for things like that. He’s a lot more eased into the intimate affections when Claudia’s under a glamour or heavily disguised. 

who holds the umbrella when it rains

Azrael’s taller. He tends to ask for Claudia’s parasol and holds it for them both, which leads to her ribbing him gently and grinning. “Such a gent!”

where their usual ‘date spot’ is ( if applicable )

In one of their old threads, Claudia brought up an inconspicuous B&B that was in the more rural setting outside of London. Way out of the way of city limits and seeing only light traffic. I think this would be a neat “date spot” for them, as well as a safe location for exchanging information. No one can peep on them, and they both know the owners well enough to know they keep to themselves and give their guests privacy. There’s no reason for either to be nosy about Claudia&Azrael either, they’re just friendly faces who return for a spot of breakfast, lunch or dinner before heading out. 

who’s more protective

You’d expect the Immortal to be more protective, but the fact of the matter is, it’s equal. Azrael is protective over Claudia, and she is the same over him. They’re both very heavily laden with grief and know great loss, something that’s a deep level of understanding with them; grief is part of their character, and that’s made them both very guarding individuals who protect the other with everything they got and a fierceness that will, and has, spilled blood.

how long it is before they sleep together ( can be as in ‘had sex’ or as in ‘shared a bed’ )

Sharing a bed is nothing unusual; platonically, they’ve taken many naps together before and one has flopped on the other when finding them in a moment of rest. They’re not stiff and awkward about it, and it flows pretty easily when they enter an intimate relationship. They are THE HUMAN KNOT. 

Intimacy, however, is not something they immediately leapt into, especially when Claudia mentioned she’d never been with a man before. Although there’s certainly tension, it’s a good while before they actually do anything outside of kisses and frisky touches, which is fine with both of them. When Claudia’s ready, Azrael makes a very comfortable and romantic scene in the upstairs bedroom she’s fixed up so well for him over the years. It’s a very slow and tender first time. 

if they argue about anything

They don’t argue, they have disagreements, even when those disagreements happen to be about something they’re both very passionate about and clashes with their moralities. They don’t escalate into something so careless and uncontrollable as screaming and yelling, accusations and blame. They don’t do that. Claudia’s upbringing and Azrael’s calm stance come into agreement here, and they’ve agreed-to-disagree before, and both agreed to air out the tension by spending a little time away from the other to let the feelings subside. 

They’re very mature about this, which is more than can be said for a lot of relationships. Wild individuals them both, but very conscious and thoughtful ones. They’d never seek to hurt or jab at the other.

who leaves more marks ( lipstick, hickeys, scratchmarks etc. )

Claudia. Without a doubt, it’s Claudia. She loves to mark him up with hickeys and scratch marks, but seldom does anyone see anything due to his cassock riding high in collar. Sometimes, someone might see a mark, or a purple lip stain, peeking from above the white though, if they’re perceptive enough.

Also, she just loves to pelt him with kissy marks. That man oft has to clean his face from mulberry lipstick when he leaves her! 

who steals whose clothes and how often

Claudia’s more curvy than Azrael (lanky boy) so his clothes don’t exactly fit proper, but that doesn’t stop her from slipping on his shirts and leaving a few buttons undone. Azzy, on the other hand, enjoys stealing a plethora of her shirts because they fit him without issue - baggy on him, if anything! They’re very cozy and he enjoys the fabric, from cotton to silk! He has more of her shirts in his dresser than she does of his.

However, they do tend to swap their coats whenever Claudia’s on Watchdog duty and wears her leather duster. His is more flowy and baggy, hers is more protective and thick, but no less stylish with a popped collar. They look really good when they swap. 

how they cuddle ( spooning? facing each other? )

Absolutely mushed and tangled together, preferably laying down because Claudia can throw a spanner into the height gap that way. They’re usually face-to-face, noses nuzzled and forehead crowned together. It’s easier to smooch (and bite) this way! 

what their favourite nonsexual activity is

The world can burn and fall to ruin, and they’ll be sweeping through the flames with their transcendental waltz undeterred. Dancing is, and will always remain, these two’s thing. They’ll dance through Death and they’ll dance through Spring, making Persephone & Hades proud.

If you can get them to stop for two seconds, they also enjoy traveling and seeing what the world has to offer two wicked goblins like them. Wanderlust is something they both share, or perhaps it’s something Claudia’s infected Azrael with! But they do like getting out of the country.

how long they stay mad at each other

Not long at all. They’ve had their moments of clashing before, but the anger doesn’t really last that long at all. They step away from one another to let the other have their space as I said before, to let the feelings subside since they’re both passionate individuals who do not budge at all, but.. they just don’t stay mad at one another. They’ve gone to bed before without meeting up right away due to their lives preoccupying their time, and every morning afterwards they’ve found one another’s company. 

I just. cannot see them as a couple who stay mad at one another for a long time, or carry anger. Individually, they don’t strike me as the personalities that do that with loved ones, and they certainly don’t do it together. Distance makes the heart grow fonder? It makes them a little anxious, to be honest. Just a little. They get a little jittery when life circumstances keep them from coming back together after a disagreement.

Very attached couple. But of course, I could be wrong about this for Azrael! I don’t want to assume. Claudia definitely gets a little jittery for sure.

what their usual coffee / tea orders are

They’re an order you’d prefer not to mix up on the general. Claudia likes three spoonfuls of sugar with a hint of rosemary and no cream in her pine-needle tea, Azrael likes two drops of cream and no sugar. They will notice immediately and kind of swivel their heads like, “Whoa!”. One’s too sweet, and the other’s not nearly sweet or pine-y enough!

if they ever have any children together

They are a happy conjoined family with furbabies, thank you very much! 

if they have any special pet names for each other

Claudia is notorious for pet names. “Mr. Callows” always remains the first affectionate term of endearment that has evolved through the years from platonic to romantic, and she never drops it when addressing him. For Azrael, it’s always a sweet french pet name woven with “wolf”. She thinks that is absolutely precious, by the way. Loves it.

However, for fun, a list of pet names she’s made for him so far

Bonekeeper

Loveweaver

Coffinweaver

Sugarpuss

Lover

if they ever split up and / or get back together

Nope.avi

what their shared living space is like ( messy? clean? what kind of decor? )

Azrael’s cottage out and away from everyone is pretty much the perfect insight to how their living style is mashed together; it’s incredibly rustic and you’d swear you walked straight into a witch’s cabin, which is only half true! Dried herbs hang around the place, acting as passive aromatics mixed with the lovely scent of pine incense, but it’s all very light as they keep the windows open to allow for a nice breeze. There’s wicker baskets filled with mushrooms, berries and other foraging goods, there’s dried & salted meat hung up in the kitchen area, and a cauldron that always seems to be bubbling with something delicious.

There’s chairs Claudia’s made for them both around the Hearth, covered with knitted blankets they’ve made with forest embroidery - foxes and wolves, cats and hounds. Baked apples or some sort of fruit lay beside the fireplace on sticks. Azrael has Lilac’s area primmed and proper here, her own cozy corner with little feather toys the couple made. 

It’s clean, and it’s a cozy clutter of goods. They’re not suffocated, but it’s obvious they have treasures here and lots of stuffed shelves. Outside they have a hammock they both made from scratch. :’)

what their first christmas / hanukkah / etc as a couple was like

Azrael never really knew how to celebrate the Holiday, and never really had reason to in earlier years until Claudia pulled him along for the ride of Yule, and this was long before they were ever an item. She taught him tradition, she’s taken him hunting for the perfect Yule log, they’ve sat side-by-side making wreathes and making feasts with their own two hands in the manor, and they’ve both kept the log burning while hanging bits of evergreen around. Not to mention, the fun of decorating a pine and the tales of how they’d hang treats and food on the branches for spirits to nibble on in good favor. 

However, their first Yule as a couple allowed Claudia to sneak in the cheekier tradition of Kissing Boughs. For the first time, they made little doll versions of Claudia & Azrael to hang in the middle of these boughs, and entwined mistletoe at the bottom as is tradition for making. Every berry on the mistletoe is a kiss promised, and one plucks off a berry for each kiss given. They both had to do their damnedest to not pluck off every berry right away, and it’s become one of their favorite parts of Yule. The purposefully look for mistletoe with the most berries because of this!

what their names are in each other’s phones

On Claudia’s phone: “Mr. Callows ⚰️ 🖤” / “Big Spook 👻” /  “Love Goblin 1 🖤″ On Azrael’s phone: “Ma louve 🐺 💚” / “Little Spook 👻” / “Love Goblin 2 💚“

if they have any ‘couple traditions’ ( buying a new mug for their collection every year? baking every friday evening? )

The escape to Azrael’s cottage is absolutely tradition, and prized at that. Come Hell or High Water, they will have their time where they escape the life as Countess and Informant to be domestic - to live a slice of a normal life together, no matter how short-lived. That time is so precious to the both of them. Normalcy, peace, togetherness, and no one else around to tarnish their Elysium. It’s good for their critters, too. <3

who falls asleep first and who wakes up first

Claudia falls asleep first, but she’s always the first to always wake up, too. Azrael tends to sleep in and has his small wife peppering him awake with kisses and bites, leading to a grouchygami who tries to trap her in bed and snuggle. He can never win against her wake-up calls. v_v

who’s the big spoon / little spoon

It depends! They both are fans of switching. Sometimes Claudia will be found with Azrael curled up as small as can be, tucked away in her frame with his face in her neck, hugging her waist and humming delightfully as she nuzzles into the top of his crown and covers it in kisses, holding him very tight and very protectively (as she loves to do). Other times, you’ll just see Azrael curled up around something because she straight up vanishes beneath all that hair and the long overcoat LMAO. He hides his smol spook very, very well, and she does like that.

who hogs the bathroom

Claudia has to spend quite a while when it comes to fixing her hair in the morning; straightening it and then putting it in a braided bun with all those pearls takes time! Meanwhile, Azrael has a lot of hair maintenance of his own. I think they just make it work in the bathroom, no matter how crammed it is LMAO? Even if the mirror is itty bitty they just. make it work! It’s chaotic when they’re using the tiny bathroom at Azrael’s place, but they do it! With playful nudges and hip bumps, of course. Outta the way, you’re hoggin’ the mirror!

And with showers / baths, I still stick with an old way I answered this question; Without warning, Claudia hops in and joins, especially if she’s in a rush. Azrael’ll be minding his own business when OH HELLO NAKED WIFE FANCY MEETING YOU HERE.

There’s not as much hogging as there is Invasion.

who kills the spiders / takes them outside

It’s a fucking race to who gets it first. Will Azrael eat it first, or will Claudia swipe up the little eight-legged nightmare and whisk it away outside? IT ALL DEPENDS, especially when they both spot it!

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 32

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: i feel like i always make my couples dance but that’s because i think couple dancing is such an intimate thing that is so beautiful. anyway, the song they’re dancing to is this one (i absolutely adore the soundtrack of this movie, it makes my inner music geek happy), highly recommend listening to it when the time for the dancing comes. hope you enjoy this chapter x

NEXT CHAPTER

Y/N stared at herself in the mirror in her pyjama shorts and bra, hands moving over her stomach. She always felt somehow detached from her own self whenever placed in mob parties, whenever Gwen told her what to do, whenever someone told her how to act or who to be but somehow the slight idea that there was something growing in her, someone who was gonna need her for the first years of their lives, someone who would know her as her and not as the handmaid for the Forrest heiress, other than Sebastian’s hidden and disbelieving mistress, other than an orphan. That is enough, and that would forever be enough to make her fight just a little for the little baby who wasn’t even the size of a small blueberry yet. 

She was so lost in her own reflection in the mirror she didn’t realise Sebastian had came in and was watching her from the door frame, small smile on his face from what he thought was a small act of vanity from the seemingly innocent woman. Coming up from behind her, he wrapped her arms around her waist, his hand slightly touching her stomach in a way that made her somehow escape the reality they both were in. In another life, Y/N would’ve probably come up with a quirky way to tell him she was pregnant and he would be happy, they would both paint the nursery in a neutral colour after arguing about what colour would be best, they would throw a baby shower and laugh at all the name suggestions and finally he would be by her side when the baby was born. But this wasn’t another life, this was life as it was and here she wasn’t even sure if she should tell him.

    - I’m sorry about Gwen. I’ll be sure to have a word with her about that. - he kissed her temple. - I still think you should see a doctor, angel. 

     - I’m alright, Seb. - she turned her back to the mirror, no longer wanting to see that unobtainable image that would most likely haunt her whenever her mind wasn’t preoccupied. Sebastian sighed, knowing he couldn’t force her to see a doctor. - I’m fine, I promise. 

     - Take a break from all of this. Let’s ... I don’t know, let’s go upstate until the wedding. - he suggested, not wanting her to be subjected to anymore of Gwen’s annoyance or any other mob business. - I’m sure we can figure something out so we ca ...

     - You don’t need to take care of me all the time. - she caressed his face, wondering if her baby would have his eyes. - Who takes care of you? 

     - I don’t need anyone to take care of me, I only need to take care of you. I am so sorry about Gwen, once again, she’s acting like a bridezilla lately. 

     - How was the tux fitting? 

     - It’s light blue as if we’re going to prom. - he chuckled yet Y/N couldn’t take the thought of the man she was in love with, the father of her unborn child, marrying the woman she’d known since they were both kids. Funny how she could’ve just listened to Dan and not go to his home when she could. It would’ve been so easy. - What’s going on inside your mind, angel? 

     - Just worries.

     - You don’t need to worry, angel. I will never let anything harm you. - this was no empty promise on his part. If Sebastian could and he could, he would never allow any harm to come to her, any scratch to be made or any hair to be pulled.  Y/N, however, for the very first time, was pessimistic believing that the harm had already been done. Before she could open her mouth to speak, the familiar rumble in her stomach made her whine before she rushed back to the bathroom yet despite how nauseous she was, she couldn’t throw up. Sebastian followed her, putting a hand on her back. - Maybe you need to eat something.

      - I’m okay. - she turned around, her back leaning against the toilet while her head leaned against his shoulder. - Probably just a bug or a very bad cold. 

      - You wouldn’t have to guess if you agreed to see a doctor like you should, angel. 

      - Are you lecturing me, now? - she chuckled lightly, eyes moving up to stare at his playful expression, trying to cheer up the environment. - Maybe I should eat something. 

    - Come on. - he got up, taking her hand in his. They both exited her bedroom and Sebastian led her to the dinning room. It was mostly hotel employees setting the tables for the dinning hour but what looked more interesting was the big long table at the end of the room full of entrées that looked like little pieces of delectable heaven. Y/N stared at the food, wondering from where she wanted to begin as she felt like eating the whole array by herself. Instead, she decided to pick a mini sausage roll, grabbing it by a toothpick and placing it into her mouth, the taste exploding in what she thought was the most pleasurable thing she had experienced today. 

Sebastian merely chuckled at her behaviour, finding charming how she always managed to look somehow interested in every single thing surrounding her, almost as if she hadn’t lost the childlike curiosity most of people lose as they enter the adulthood. She was just something else and all he wanted to do was just run away to somewhere quiet and get to wake up to her serene face for the rest of his life. Alas, not everything is what you want it to be. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the dinner pianist starting to play something rather soft and subdued yet melodically enough to break through the mix of silence with employees running in and out preparing for what was to come. Noticing Y/N was distracted picking another entrée, he walked to what looked like a guy in his mid 50′s and slipped him a note before returning to her. Soon enough, the melody changed.

Before she could pick something else from the table, he took her hand in his, walking her to an empty spot near the piano. In advance to her asking what he was doing, Sebastian held her hand to his chest, his free hand leaning against the side of her waist, creating a closeness so close the tip of their shoes almost touched. His torso and legs moved side to side in an intimate move only for the two of them. Y/N closed her eyes but Sebastian kept his open, looking at her head under his chin and imagining how life could be if things were different. Maybe if things were different they could run away somewhere to France, get a little place in Paris which she liked so much, a little place with a balcony that gave view to the city of love where every night they would dance to the same melody for hours and hours and then he would propose to her some night. Then things would move along and they would have a little one, maybe a little girl with the same beautiful eyes Y/N had, a little girl with whom he would dance in the balcony while Y/N watched while leaning against the wall. No mob, no killing, no targets, no contractual relationships, just two regular people living a regular life. Regular was enough for him. 

   - This is a very sad song. - she looked up to him, breaking through the silence. 

   - Sad slow songs are very beautiful. 

   - Doesn’t it make you sad? - she leaned her head against his chest, listening to his slow heart beat.

   - My mother used to play the piano constantly, it reminds me of her. 

   - Do you miss her?

   - I barely remember her, she and my father divorced pretty early. He got custody but whenever I hear slow piano music, it always reminds me of her. She was a good woman. 

   - She raised a good man. - Y/N’s free hand came up to caress his cheek, a soft dainty dreamingly look on her face. - You’re a good man, Sebastian. 

   - Do you even believe people are anything other than good? - he questioned, looking at her lovingly while the music put them but on a little dazed bubble which none of them really wanted to leave.

  - I believe everyone can be good yet not everyone chooses to. Kindness is achievable for everyone. 

   - How do you not get hardened by this life? Not to sound rude but you were born and raised by the mob, you know what we do. 

   - I get to chose who I am. Besides, it isn’t like Mr. Forrest let me or Gwen anywhere near the action. We were constantly in boarding school. 

   - Well... - the music changed and he looked around as the people started to come in for dinner. Before anyone could see the two of them, he stepped away from her, leaving her missing his touch and him still feeling her ghost strokes on his face. Sebastian was much too smart to know that if anyone discovered they were close, she would be in much more trouble than he would be. In all honesty, he didn’t think there would be any consequences for him, however, there surely would be some for her.

They were once again apart and the next days only seemed to worsen for Y/N. Between listening to Gwen complain about how the cake wasn’t right or how the napkins weren’t the right shade of periwinkle, she’d spend her free time constantly tired and wanting to sleep or feeling nauseous. Nevertheless, the much dreaded day came and Gwen had woke her up at an unfair 4 AM in the morning to get her hair and makeup “just right” as she said. However, it was rather hard to remain awake when Y/N face was constantly being massaged by very soft face brushes. 

    - Did you hear about Vanessa? - Gwen commented as her hair was pulled into rollers. - You know Vanessa, she went with us to university. She was supposed to be here but you will not believe it, she got knocked up. 

   - I need to congratulate her. 

   - No way, she’s knocked up by Joe, you know, dad’s friend’s son. Imagine being pregnant from a married guy, as if being pregnant wasn’t bad enough. 

   - Yeah, terrible. - she looked to the side as more makeup was applied to her face. - Would it be that bad though? 

   - Dad always said there’s only one thing worse than a mistress, a pregnant one. All that designer clothing she has, not gonna fit anymore. Oh god and breast feeding? Ugh, this is why I don’t want kids. 

   - Yeah ...

Sometimes you have to pull yourself out of dreamland and make a choice. No matter how hard it is. 

It was time for her to make her own.

tag list: @lilya-petrichor​​​​​ @xoxohannahlee​​​​​ @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater​​​​​ @nikkipea​​​​​ @madisonpillstrom​​​​​ @cevans98​​​​​ @thelostallycat​​​​​ @sideeffectsofyou​​​​​ @anxiousdreamersworld​​​​​ @captainchrisstan​​​​​ @lookiamtrying​​​​​ @sarge-barnes-sir​​​​​ @stuffforreferences​​​​​ @thebadassbitchqueen @sebastianstansqueen​​​​​ @nsfwsebbie​​​​​ @strangerliaa​​​​​ @emzd34​​​​​ @everything-is-awesomesauce​​​​​ @dreams-in-blxck​​​​​ @krismeunicornbaobei

[marmolady]

The New Taylor: Part 1

READ PART 2 HERE

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Estela x MC

Summary: (Endless Ending).  Saving the world takes a lot out of a person. For Taylor, growing into her new self beyond La Huerta can only happen as fast as her exhausted body will allow her....

Word Count: 5541

Tagging:   @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr,  @greengroove

______

The light of the rising sun filtered through the thin curtains of Estela’s childhood bedroom, gently rousing Taylor from her slumber. She grumbled softly, nuzzling deeper into the pillow, and snuggling into her wife’s chest and belly. Somehow, she could just never get enough sleep. It was as if her body’s batteries were still relearning the art of recharging, some three?-- four now, weeks after Vaanu’s energy departed her. In exchange for looking forward to a lifetime of waking up in Estela’s arms, a little tiredness was a small price to pay.Some days, though, it felt like an insurmountable hurdle.

Full lips brushed Taylor’s cheek and jaw, whispers of kisses. How could she not smile? Her eyes opened to that beautiful, scarred face. “Mm… morning, babe.”

Estela beamed. It was hard not to when she had her arms around a miracle. Back home with her tio, the promise of a happy future was tangible, a hope that she could just about believe in.

“Good morning, hermosa.” She nibbled the lobe of Taylor’s ear. “Did you sleep better?”

Taylor yawned noisily, and took her time stretching out her body, enjoying the press of her back against her lover.

“Better, yeah.”

Nightmares had been an ongoing problem for Taylor for about as long as she could remember. Every now and then she’d have stretches where she couldn’t even seem to close her eyes without being bombarded. Images of her friends’ deaths… dying in a thousand different ways. The worst, though, the worst by far, was a memory of her own; Estela’s eyes going dull as she took a last, rattling breath, Taylor cradling her in blood-soaked arms. It haunted her in sleep; the feel of blood on her hands so horrifyingly real, usually waking her with a violent shiver up her spine.

“Mmmm…” she turned to press a kiss to Estela’s lips. “I’ll take every good night of sleep I can get. You sleep okay?”

Estela’s face was soft with affection. Her own nights’ sleep had been badly impacted by the traumatic period of Taylor’s recovery from Vaanu’s leaving her. After seeing the love of her life stop breathing again and again… letting go of the fear wasn’t something that came easy, and it made for restless nights.

“I think I made it the whole night. We might just be through the worst of it. I guess you’re not gonna die on me in the middle of the night after all.”

“Like I keep saying; you are stuck with me, Estela Montoya. No way you’re shaking me now.”

With a happy squirm, Estela squeezed Taylor from behind. “Nope-- you’re all mine.” She placed a big smooch on her wife’s rosy cheek. “Come on; I can smell breakfast cooking!”

 ________________________

Several weeks in, San Trobida remained a brand new world for Taylor. It was to some relief when it quickly became apparent that she didn’t especially stand out and draw attention. She slowly got to grips with her place in a world beyond La Huerta, and no one seemed to pay her much notice. Estela had told her, with a laugh, that San Trobidans were not an especially chatty people, and that this shouldn’t come as a surprise. One might expect a polite smile of greeting, but the general population were about as likely to strike up small talk as Estela was-- which was to say, not very.

Initially, Estela had been stuck to Taylor as if by glue, letting her presence be a safety net as her wife grappled with her identity in what was an often overwhelming environment. And it hadn’t just been for Taylor’s benefit. Reunited with her uncle in a post-war San Trobida, her beloved partner by her side, it seemed inevitable to Estela that the other shoe had to drop at some point. Life wasn’t this easy. It just wasn’t. Every other time she’d believed that the struggle was over, she’d been hit with another wallop to the gut. Trusting in ‘happily ever after’ wasn’t something she could turn on like a switch.

But everything hadn’t gone crashing down in flames. Nicolas had welcomed Taylor-- and Jake, for that matter-- enthusiastically into the family. Even for the short years she’d been away, Estela found a San Trobida flourishing without the choke-hold of oppression that she’d always expected to be there. Jake had hit the ground running, having already interviewed for positions with two local airlines to charter tourists-- the thought of tourists coming to San Trobida was staggering in itself. Estela had offered her services to do odd jobs for old acquaintances; something she’d done many years before, when her mother had still been around to prevent her from getting involved in the war. The vast majority of her uncle’s friends had been connected to the rebellion in some way or another, and standoffish as most were, they welcomed her earnest insistence on being useful. Everything around her spoke of recovery, and Estela found herself beginning to believe that she and Taylor were on their way too.

Taylor often accompanied her wife on these errands, taking every opportunity to soak up the essence of San Trobidan life, to make it a part of herself. She was met predominantly with wary looks and grunts, and soon worked out that it wasn’t worth taking such reactions to heart. Today, though, she was striking out on her own. If she was going to come into her own as a ‘new Taylor’, the fully-realised human being that even Vaanu themselves could not have imagined of her, she had to give herself a chance to grow.

“You have the bus timetables on your phone, right?” Estela asked, taking a moment to give her wife’s fingers a squeeze. “It’s still probably best if you don’t go into the city on your own, but you pretty much know your way to the closer towns anyway. And you can call me…”

“...at any time.” Taylor returned the squeeze. “Always.”

Estela blushed. “Yeah… that. Just, be careful. If you’re feeling tired, call. I can drop everything in a moment, but I need you to be safe.”

Whether Taylor’s batteries ever properly recharged these days, was something debatable. Even the simplest activities would knock the stuffing out of her. Walks along the beach were kept short. Afternoon naps were now something of a fact of life. Sex was slow and gentle. It was damn near driving Taylor crazy, and all she could do was tell herself that it would get better, that her lack of energy was a tiny price for the miracle of her continued presence on earth.

She took Estela’s face in her hands and kissed her sweetly. “I’ll be careful, okay? I know my limits.”

  The bus ride up into the hills east of Estela’s home was a scenic one, and a trip that Taylor had now taken a couple of times during her solo explorations, as well as once, of course, with Estela. Passing agricultural plantations-- cassava, banana and sugar cane, she’d been told-- the surrounding vegetation became denser as the road carried on to the next town. Taylor hopped off at the next stop; if she was feeling up to it, there wouldn’t be too much of a trek back down the hill to the bay off which the Montoya house stood. With that in mind, she kept her ambling around town to a slow pace, and coffee in hand, soon took to the walking trails through the surrounding forest.

Almost certainly as a result of feeling so at home in the wilderness of La Huerta, it was in nature that Taylor felt she was at her best-- it had always been on hikes through the jungle or along the coast that she could really get lost in thought and ponder the big questions. Now, though, her body just couldn’t seem to keep up with her mental needs. When she sat down upon the forest floor for a breather-- surely after not even a quarter of an hour of walking-- her legs were like jelly.

Goddammit.

Frustrated, Taylor distracted herself by taking a picture of an odd flower. She’d been collecting snaps of just about anything in nature she came across that stood out as different to what she was used to on La Huerta. If Estela or Nicolas couldn’t identify it, she’d hit their old handbook of San Trobidan botany. It was a small hobby to keep her occupied; at least she could keep on learning even if she was usually too tired to do a lot physically. She’d also taken up knitting-- though she had a way to go before she’d really got the hang of it. Besides poring over books and keeping up a barrage of questions about life here, there was not a whole lot else for her to do. She’d had a couple of driving lessons, but like everything else, they had to be kept short. She’d usually go along with Estela when she was running errands, but if she wasn’t painfully aware of how weak and vulnerable she presently was, getting a good view of her wife’s vigour and strength did nothing to make her feel any better. Of course, there wasn’t a hint of judgement-- but Taylor was so often left feeling useless and unattractive. Estela had fallen for an energetic woman who had taken life by the horns, and right now, it felt like that woman didn’t exist.

She took her time to recover; sending a couple of pictures to Diego who’d been getting an almost blow-by-blow account of her new life in San Trobida, and doing a few easy stretches. Estela was convinced that working on core strength was the best way forward for Taylor’s rehabilitation; once her body was stronger, then they’d work on cardio and stamina.

Limbered up, Taylor walked back to the bus stop. Dearly as she’d wanted to make the trek home, something that just a couple of months ago would have been a piece of cake, she was not fool enough to think it might happen today. Getting off the bus a couple of stops before home was the compromise she’d have to live with for the time being. She plugged in her earphones and watched the world go by-- listening to a soundtrack she’d inherited as a mish-mash of her friends’ tastes. When she hopped off the bus, that beat kept her putting one foot in front of the other, a steady rhythm. From the footpath by the road up the hill, she could already see an easy route home; the sparkling sea providing a beautiful backdrop that she’d never have fully appreciated through a window. She could feel her body flagging with every step, but it was worth it.

You got this, Taylor. All downhill from here.

As Taylor turned the last corner toward home, her legs shaking, a small figure skittered out across the road and towards the beach. A small sickly-looking dog. Strays were not uncommon near the towns and beaches; Estela had said there used to be many more around the place, that with the war over there was more scope for focus on animal welfare. The fact that this one looked like a strong gust of wind could finish it off spurred her.

Well, I guess I can make a slight detour.

She hastily tucked away her earphones and crossed the street, whistling. Most of the dogs that showed up were seasoned beggars with no qualms about approaching humans. Chances were, this little one would come running. Huffing and puffing her way slowly to the beachside village, she found the dog trundling along the behind the now-closed bar. On a longer look, Taylor noticed that its forelegs were oddly bent, facing in opposite directions as it loped, and the scruffiness that had caught her eye was down to great patches of hair loss that accentuated a thin frame.

Poor little fella…. She gave a low whistle and crouched. “Hey, l’il guy… uh, girl actually. Hey, l’il girl. You must be hungry….”

The dog looked around, eyes wary, as Taylor wobbled precariously. It gave a small but gruff bark, and moved further away. Taylor huffed; if the animal didn’t clearly need a vet, she’d have left it be. After her walk down from the bus stop, her head was spinning and she wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Maybe… maybe she should just come back for the tiny dog later. Then, as Taylor made to get up, she stumbled and fell.

Fuck.

Suddenly, it seemed pretty clear that the mangy little dog was not the one in most immediate physical peril. Taylor gave a weak yell and kicked out the dirt. To her alarm, her vision blurred horribly, and she went from ‘a little bit weak’ to ‘I could faint right here’ dizzy in frightening speed.

Okay, head between your legs. Deep breaths… deep….

The world swam. Taylor could just about make out the dog barking in the distance… then all went black.

  _____________________

Taylor woke slowly, her head aching. The room around her seemed to spin, and it took several long moments before she recognised it as Estela’s bedroom. Propped up at the head of the bed, she’d clearly been brought home by someone after…. Crap, what happened?

“There is water for you on the bedside table,” came the sharp voice of Nicolas Montoya.

“W-what happened? I fainted? I think I… fainted.”

“Thankfully you were found by someone who recognised you as a guest of mine. Now, sit up slowly and take small sips of water. Estelita will be home soon-- I would much prefer she is not coming home to her idiot wife looking like death warmed up.”

Her lips dry, Taylor swallowed, still trying to catch her brain up with whatever had just happened. She’d been chasing after a stray dog, and then…. God, Estela was gonna freak. She mumbled a ‘thank you’ for the water, for the apparent rescue, and tried to hold off from shuddering at the bitter disappointment in her uncle-in-law’s voice. He was pissed. A strong part of Taylor was indignant; she wasn’t a fool, but this was new.

“Drink.”

There was no arguing with that tone. Taylor took a sip, then another. She tried to think. She’d been out walking and… her body had just given out on her. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known she was exhausted, but….

“It happened so fast. I was on my way home, and I was tired, and then I just… crashed. Where’s Estela--? Does she know I’m okay--?”

“I didn’t take you for a dumbass--”

Anger flared in Taylor’s gut. That was not fair. “Hey-- I passed out. I’m not stupid, I just--”

“No? You are ill, wandering around defenseless… by your own choice, no? Knowing that your wife would drop everything to get you home when you are clearly incapacitated. I give you some credit; I assume you know this is not the safest corner of the world? It seems like you are a maldito idiota to me!”

Taylor could feel her whole body trembling uncontrollably. “You can try, but you’re not gonna make me feel any worse than I already do. I made a bad call, and I’m paying for it. I don’t expect you to trust me; but I learned a fucking hard lesson today.”

Nicolas turned away, seething.

“If I thought it was a risk, I wouldn’t have done it. I would never put Estela through that kind of worry. Not again.”

“Well, we are fortunate indeed it wasn’t she who found you collapsed in the dirt.” Nicolas’ eyes flashed as he looked back over his shoulder at Taylor. “Do you have any idea--”

A creaking signaled the front door swinging open. There was a pounding of frantic footsteps on hardwood floor and then….

“Taylor!”

Estela rushed in, falling to her knees beside the bed where Taylor was propped up.

“’Stel…” Taylor’s eyes welled as both relief and shame washed over her all at once. I’m so sorry.

“¡Dios! Me asustaste hasta la muerte! What were you thinking? It’s okay, just… just let me look at you….”

The tone of panic and the tears rolling down Estela’s cheeks made Taylor’s heart sink down to her toes. This was the last thing she’d wanted.

Nicolas scowled. “Well, she’s in safe hands now. Estelita, I will be in the office if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Tio.” Estela did not turn as her uncle walked away; she had eyes only for Taylor. Tentatively, she climbed up onto the bed, settling down gently beside her wife.

“I really thought I had more stamina than tha--”

“Shh.” Estela put a finger to Taylor’s lips. “Let me check you over.”

Too exhausted to struggle, Taylor leaned back against the head of the bed, letting Estela inspect her for any signs of physical distress. She remained quiet, feeling the tension that hung between them, tension that shouldn’t be there.

Finally, Estela sighed, her dark eyes forlorn. “Looks like no harm done. You got lucky. But you can’t just push your luck like that. I can’t believe you’d just--”

“It was an honest mistake. Part of being human, or at least that’s what I’m told.”

“It was a stupid mistake!”

It was as though an icy bucket of water had been dropped on Taylor’s head. Estela wasn’t just hurt, she was… angry?

“Hey! I have been lectured enough by your uncle, and I am not gonna take it from you. I know you’re scared, but this is new to me. I’m still working out my limits.”

Estela winced, immediately looking ashamed for snapping. She curled up her knees to her chest and stared straight ahead. For a long while, she sat that way, unmoving.

Taylor watched her wife with concern. Where was she? Reliving the long nights in the Elyys’tel medical centre, a hair’s breadth from losing her partner forever? Or was she even further away; remembering the shattering impact of loss and fearing it touching again?

“Taylor,” Estela said hoarsely, “I can’t… I won’t lose you.”

“No. You won’t.”

“So, don’t do that to me again.That was irresponsible and dumb, and that… that wasn’t fair.”

Hurt, Taylor tried hard not to pout. She wasn’t doing this on purpose; surely Estela knew that?

“We both know that you can’t look me in the eye and tell me that you’ve never overestimated what you were capable of. I made a mistake, okay?”

Estela’s nostrils flared. It was difficult to argue with that. Sometime in the future, when he’d cooled off, her tio would no doubt laugh at the thought of her having a taste of all the worry she put him through. “Look, it might seem peaceful here, but beneath the surface, things are still broken. This is not a place that’s forgiving of stupid mistakes. If anything happened to you now, I-- I think it would kill me.”

“I know, ‘Stel. And I was being careful. I thought I was being careful enough…”

As she looked into Taylor’s face, Estela’s expression gradually softened. This sucked. It really sucked. But that wasn’t down to Taylor. She was scared too. Gently, Estela reached out a hand and stroked her wife’s cheek. “You’re safe now. That’s what matters.”

Pressing a tender kiss to Estela’s wrist, Taylor felt herself relax. They were okay. Both kind of freaked out, but they were freaked out together.

“It’s like I don’t know my own body anymore. I feel absolutely useless; I can’t even trust myself, not after what just happened. It’s… kinda shit. ”

Estela huffed knowingly, and stroked Taylor’s hair. “It’s a lot shit. I’m sorry for taking it out on you. The last thing you need is to be stressing out ‘cause I’m being an asshole.”

“You? Never. You’ve had to be scared for so long; you’d have to be a robot if you kept it together all the time.”

“Hmm. Well, if I’ve gotta let off steam, that’s what a punching bag is for. I don’t wanna hurt you. Not ever.” Estela stroked her calloused fingers through Taylor’s hair. It helped to calm the both of them.“Did Tio really chew you out? If he thinks he can lecture you--”

Taylor laughed dryly. “Nothing I can’t handle. It… kinda sucks that he thinks I’m a complete idiot, but I’ll work on that.”

The hurt, though, could not be hidden.

“Carińa, you have nothing to prove. When Tio gets protective he can be… well, pretty damn unpleasant.” Estela sighed softly. “When I found out Mom was dead, it… it’s hard to explain how bad it was. I was unreachable. And obviously it took a long, long time for me to even be close to the person I was before. I think when he found you like that, he must have had a moment when he thought it was happening again. It doesn’t excuse him being an ass to you, but you should know it’s not your fault. You’re not what’s wrong here. Jesus, you’re the opposite of what’s wrong. Okay?”

Taylor found her wife’s hand and squeezed. “I know.” For a little while, she was quiet, just taking comfort in Estela… her being there, her touch. That love was a privilege. “Your tio just… absolutely loves you to pieces. Like you’re his everything. For him to feel as though he’d lost you; it must have been something like torture.”

Her eyes closed, Estela breathed deeply against Taylor’s head, soothed by the scent of her hair. She’d let go of the guilt, but profound sadness lingered. The years since her mother’s death had been little but immeasurable pain for Nicolas, making even the triumphant rebellion hollow.

“I could never thank him enough. No matter what, he supported me, he had my back. Even when I was stuck on a mission that would take away the last person he loved.” She found herself enveloped in a hug, Taylor gently bringing her to her chest and cradling her head there. “I love him. More than I can say. More than I think I’ll ever work out how to show him. But I think… he knows. We’ve been through too much for him not to. I know I fought it; I didn’t wanna risk you even if it meant the world… but he gets to heal now. With me.” Estela looked up, pink dusting her cheeks as she looked into Taylor’s shimmering blue eyes. “You did that. And there’s nothing that anyone could ever give to compare to that. You’re my hero.”

Taylor found herself sniffing, faced with shining sincerity. She didn’t feel like a hero, but for as long as Estela needed her to be that person, she’d try to live up to it. “You’re mine.”

“So, mi querida, it’s gonna be okay.” Estela pulled herself up, so that Taylor could lean on her in turn. “How are you feeling?”

“Actually, not so bad. Like, I desperately needed rest, but at least I seem to be able to bounce back pretty well.”

Estela sighed thoughtfully. The ordeal had been a fright, but it looked like no harm had been done. “You should tell Michelle what happened. She’ll want to know.”

It was hard for Taylor not to groan at the thought of causing even more worry, but she nodded her agreement. Ever since Vaanu left her, she’d been nothing but a burden.

“Actually, what did happen? Tio said you were passed out on the beach-- I thought you were going up into the hills.”

“I did. And I was all pumped up to trek back down from the town--,” Catching a horrified look, Taylor couldn’t help but chuckle. “--cool your jets; you know I’m not that stubborn. I realised pretty quickly that my ambitions were way too high. So, I got off the bus a little ways before our stop, and I walked it. I did it. I mean, it knocked the stuffing out of me, but I did it.”

“...And then, something possessed you to take a stroll along the beach?”

Taylor felt her cheeks flush. Okay, this was the part where I get a little foolish. “There was this little stray dog. Tiny thing, and it looked so sickly. Apparently, the bleeding heart in me jumped out, and then I was on a mission. I think the thought of actually helping someone, and not just being this weak, lost little person just… just sparked something in me. Pretty sure the adrenaline just from that got me to the beach, because when I stopped moving, the fatigue hit me like a train.”

A little smile came to Estela’s face, and it made Taylor blush all the more.

“I know, I know, apparently I’ve got myself a hero complex. Maybe a little bit stupid, but my heart’s in the right place?”

Estela just laughed and held her wife even tighter. “How am I meant to argue with that? One pig-headed crusader to another; it’s not the worst thing you can be. I love you, Taylor.”

Taylor closed her eyes, breathing in the familiarity, the comfort, that came of having Estela so near. Her whole world, her everything. All that she had to give in return was so… small. Helpless and small.

“Hey…,” Estela said gently. “It is going to be okay. I know you’re all right physically, but… you’re sad.”

“I thought I was getting better. I don’t want to be a damsel in distress for the rest of my life. It’s not as if I even know who I am now, but that ain’t it.”

Estela tenderly kissed Taylor’s brow, her own furrowed with concern. “You are getting better. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but from where you came from, this now is amazing. You’re stronger even than just last week. However long it takes, I’ll be there with you. You know, ready to give you a fireman-carry to safety.”

“I guess there’s gotta be some perks to being a damsel in distress. I can’t deny it; that would be kinda hot.”

“Kinda?”

“A lot. A lot hot. I’m sorry, have you seen your arms?”

To Taylor’s relief, the atmosphere had shifted; Estela waggled her eyebrows and giggled, eliciting a weak but grateful smile.

“You’ll be back to kicking ass in no time. If it helps, we can focus more on your physical training-- at least once you’ve recovered from this little, uh, episode. But, um, that little dog you found….”

“If we can find it, I really want to help. Maybe there’s the selfish aspect of me wanting to feel capable of being at least a little bit helpful to someone, but I want to get it fixed up. It-- I think it was a girl-- looked pretty bad.”

“I always wanted to bring home strays when I was little; Tio Nicolas thought he had enough responsibility with a kid around the place, so that was never gonna happen. I’m sure he won’t mind another guest, now. Or at least, he wouldn’t say no. Do you want to get a dog, mi amor?”

“It hadn’t actually crossed my mind what we’d do with her once we brought her home and got her healthy, but… yeah. I think I’d like to have a dog.” Despite all her worries, all her fears, all her shame, Taylor couldn’t stop the small smile that lit her features. If she could somehow claw her way back to a semblance of her old self, what lay ahead looked amazing. “Look at us, ‘Stel; already growing our family.”

A giddy grin plastered across Estela’s face served to sweep Taylor back up into her own insecurities; those voiced and those yet hidden. This was supposed to be their happy ending; after everything her lover had been through, it was all Taylor wanted to make it happen. But now… was she even enough?

This might be as good as it gets. Can you really expect her to be there to catch you when you just can’t stop falling?

Estela stood up and stretched, but gave Taylor a look when she made to follow suit.“We’re not going anywhere until you’re properly rested. I’ll make you some lunch. But then, we’ll see if we can help out your little friend. What do you think?”

Taylor frowned.

What do I think?

I think… I’m scared I’m going to hold you back, when you’re capable of so much.

I’m scared your uncle’s only ever gonna see me as another burden for you to carry.

I’m scared you’re gonna wake up one day and realise I’m not the same person you fell in love with.

She swallowed hard. There was so much love in Estela’s dark eyes, and it was shining there just for her.

I won’t stop fighting to be what you deserve. We’re so close to happy ever after, and I won’t let you down now.

“I think I’ll be up to that. We’ve got saving the world under our belt; rescuing a stray dog is gonna be a cakewalk. Let’s do this.”

[vivilove-jonsa]

Drabble prompt request! =) "Your name's not Alayne!"

Thank you so much for the dialogue prompt, my dear!  This got much longer than a drabble and I wound up going a totally different direction with it than I’d originally planned when you sent it but I hope you’ll enjoy a little mystery and amnesia AU anyway :)

****

“You’re name’s not Alayne!” someone shouts but it’s hazy.  It’s a familiar voice.  Or is it a stranger’s?  

I am Alayne.  Who else would I be?

Her name had been the first thing she’d learned…somewhere.

**

Red lights.  Blue lights.  The first things she sees after the darkness.  The mangled automobile surrounds her.  Sirens and the voices of first responders are near but foggy.  Is she dreaming?  No.  

There’s a gruff voice but his touch is careful.  “What’s your name, miss?”

She opens her eyes slowly again to find blue eyes looking back at her.  Blue eyes, black hair, ruggedly handsome.  

“Alayne,” she murmurs. “I am Alayne.”

His head tilts to the side, studying her.  “I’m Gendry, Alayne.  I’m going to get you out of this mess.”

She smiles feebly.  She wants to thank him but she slips into darkness again.

**

Bright white lights. They’re so glaring, so unpleasant. As unpleasant as the squeal of the gurney’s wheels and the squeak of rubber-soled shoes while strangers shout things about their patient, the Caucasian female, late 20s.  She’s a race, a sex and a vague guess at her age to them…along with the list of her injuries.  They’re focused on that.  

“What’s your name, honey?” a nurse asks with kind eyes like molten chocolate and curly black hair.

“Alayne.  My name is Alayne.”

“You got parents?  Siblings?  A boyfriend maybe?”

“There’s…there’s someone.”

Their faces float in front of her but she doesn’t know them.  Who are they?  Who am I?

Another face is there, solemn but handsome, dark curly hair and grey eyes.  Who is he?  

“Don’t worry, honey. We’ll find them,” the older woman says, squeezing her hand.

She wants to say more, ask questions of her own but she has an IV now and someone’s just given her a sedative.  She drifts.

**

Dim yellow lights.  It’s peaceful even though there’s no peace.  He’s here.  Somehow, she knew he’d come though she’s not sure how she knew it.  

He’s so distressed and it makes her sad.  She knows she should be, too.  It’s just all so disconnected and strange.  There’s odd images floating around, childhood memories that aren’t hers.  Or are they?  

“You were driving home from the market.  You’d said you wanted to make a lemon cake since we were celebrating.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know why, sweetheart.  These things happen.  The police are investigating the crash.  The other driver took off and…”

“No, I mean, why were we celebrating?  Who are you?”

That’s when he’d realized something else was wrong, something the trauma team had missed.  

The doctor’s low voice is telling him about her head injury.  She remembers some things but most of it’s hazy and some of it seems like a dream.

Jon.  He’s Jon and he’s supposed to be her fiancé.  He is her fiancé but she doesn’t remember him.

They cry together quietly after the doctor leaves.  He’s gentle, so sweet and kind.  He assures her they’ll work through this.  He loves her very much and she must love him, too.  In time, she’ll remember.

**

Sunset washes the world in pink and gold.  They’re home and he’s brought her out to her flower garden.

“You enjoy being out here more than just about anything, I think.”

“I do?”  He winces and she wishes she could reassure him.  “It’s lovely.”

“When I first brought you to my home after…”  He’s grimacing now and she knows he’s deciding whether or not to share something unpleasant with her.  

“Tell me,” she said, soft but firm.  She wants to know.  They’re going to rebuild the memories she’s lost.  She’ll remember in time.  The doctors are hopeful but no one is more hopeful than Jon.  She wants to share his optimism.    

“I took you from your father’s house.  You were not happy there.  He kept you…locked away.”  

“Locked away?”  A flash of memory, green-grey eyes and mint on his breath.  It makes her flesh creep.

“He was not a good man, Alayne.”

Fear, isolation and something else lingers in the corners of her mind when she thinks of him.  Petyr.  The name of her father sounds queer to her but Jon says that’s his name same as her name is Alayne.  ‘You must remember your name, Alayne.’

“What happened to him?”

“He died.”

He bites out those two words and something in his tone makes her hesitant to ask more about it.

“How did you know him? How did we meet?”

“I was…”  He scrubs at the back of his neck, looking embarrassed. “I worked as a landscaper on his estate. I tended the lawn and we met one day.” He starts to blush.  “You leaned out your window.  You told me I’d kill your blue roses watering them too much.  We…we hit it off.”

She smiles when this flash comes to her.  They’d quarreled but only briefly.  The quarreling had quickly turned into flirting.  “I remember,” she sighs.

“You do?”  She nods and he’s pleased.  “When I’d come near the house, I’d look up towards your window and you’d come stand there.  If no one was loitering about, I’d wave.  If no one was around inside, you’d open the window and we’d talk.”

And we fell in love.

“You love our garden,” Jon explains, carefully taking her hand in his.  “You said you liked being outside as much as possible after…after being there.”

It feels good having her hands in the soil again, tending her flowers.  She spends hours in her garden until it’s time to go inside and eat dinner with Jon.  Jon, who loves her and took her away from Petyr’s house.

**

Sunrise, golden through the sheer curtains hanging in their room.  It spills onto her pillow as her messy hair fans out around her like a halo.  His fingers slip through it.

“You like my hair.”

“I do.”  

“It was brown once, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, you were dying it when we met.  I don’t know why.  Your natural shade is so beautiful.”  

His eyes are lit by the sunshine filtering in as he leans towards her for a kiss and another.  His arms are warm and strong.  

“If you don’t want to...”

“I want to,” she tells him.

She curls one leg around his thigh and sinks her fingers into his dark hair as he moves within her. Their soft moans and heavy breathing fill the quiet bedroom as birds chirp outside in her flower garden.  

He loves her and she loves him.  She’s remembering bits and pieces. She’ll remember all of it soon.  

But this morning, she’d woke up remembering something else, how much she loved the way this felt with Jon.

**

Christmas lights. Bright and cheerful music which Jon claims he hates.  He still smiles when she sings along to her favorites.  It’s funny how she knows them by heart.  Some things never left at all, she supposes.  

Their hands are clasped as they make their way into the store to shop.  Green and red decorations everywhere but that’s not what they’re shopping for.  Petal pink and soft whites.  Maybe some yellow.  

She loses Jon around the stuffed animals, giggling at him wanting to buy a bear nearly as big as they are.  “What will a baby do with that?” she teases.

“Mr. Bear will watch over her for me while she naps,” he says in a tone so serious she only laughs more fully.  

She heads towards the cribs, telling him to catch up.  She spies a little lamp with a cow jumping over the moon on the shade.  She remembers that nursery rhyme.  She wonders if she’ll ever be able to tell their child about her own childhood.

“Sansa?”

She turns though she doesn’t know why.  That is not her name.    

There’s a young woman, pregnant like her standing behind her with a young man.  He’s got black hair and blue eyes.  He’s familiar.  

“It’s her, Arya.  That wreck…I told you about the girl we pulled from the vehicle and how she favored your sister,” he’s saying to the young woman. “I can’t believe it’s really you,” he says to her next.

“I’m sorry?”

She feels Jon join her.   His arms wrapping protectively around her waist.  “Who’s this, sweetheart?”

I wish I knew. “Do I know you?”

“Sansa,” the young woman says again and her grey eyes fill with tears.  Her hair is dark like Jon’s and she’s familiar, even more familiar than the young paramedic named Gendry.

“My name is Alayne.” But for the first time, she’s not so sure.  ‘You must remember your name, Alayne.’

“We’ve looked so long, so many years.  I can’t believe I’d find you here.”

“Looked for me?”

“After Baelish abducted you, we feared we’d never find you again.  And then when he wound up murdered, we hoped you’d come home to us…if you were still…alive.”

“Murdered?”

She feels Jon stiffen and suddenly remembers.  Petyr choking on his own blood and Jon grasping her hand.  “I’ll take you away from here.  I’ll protect you, I promise.  No one will never know.  We’ll move far away.”  

“Why didn’t you come home, Sansa?  It’s been two years since he died.  Mother’s been mad with grief.  We all have.”

“I’m…my name is Alayne.”

“Your name’s not Alayne!” She’s so loud.  She stamps her foot like a child having a tantrum. Tears stream down her cheeks.  “Don’t you remember me at all?”

Shoppers nearby stop their milling about and stare at them.  Her own cheeks are burning with various emotions, humiliation and frustration.

But she remembers this young woman.  She remembers her as a girl.  

Sometimes, they would laugh but sometimes, they’d get angry with each other, a storm of hurtful words and bad feelings until one would beg the other’s pardon and they would hug and…

“Arya?”

[amydancepants-peralta]

44 or 52 pls! :)

Hi anon!  I tossed up over the two for a bit there, but here goes!  

Here is 52: “I thought you knew.” 💕

☀️ The sun feels warm on Amy’s skin, and as a refreshingly cool breeze rushes through her hair she finds it next to impossible not to break out into a grin.  Today was turning out to be a pretty great day.

Given that over the years the Santiago family have spread themselves out over various states and cities, it has always been considered a sizeable task to get more two or more members in the same place and the same time - major family events excluded.  Perhaps that was why today felt particularly special; an impromptu gathering in the park leading to three of her brothers (and their extended family) occupying a decent amount of space in a park thirty minutes drive from her and Jake’s apartment.  

The infectious giggles of two of Amy’s cousins, Maria and Eddie, bubble up to her ears as they zoom past, far too intent on winning their game of chase to acknowledge their tia as their tiny feet kick up blades of grass.  Their father, Luis, stands over to Amy’s right, manning the grill and holding his ground in a relatively level-headed disagreement with David about the ‘right way’ to barbecue the meat they were serving with lunch.  To her left, her sister-in-law Clarissa teaches her and Andrew’s daughter how to play patty cake.  The relaxed joviality that can only be brought about by the gathering of loved ones is floating in the air around them, and Amy is endlessly thankful that both she and Jake had the chance to join in today.

Six months have passed since the birth of their daughter - since, in one evening, Amy had experienced both excruciating pain and an abundance of elation, all within five short hours - and it felt like both yesterday and a million years ago, all at the same time.  

It had been an interesting few months to begin with (babies, she had quickly learned, are not interested in following any schedules you may have put together, no matter how meticulous they may be); and it was only in the last ten or so weeks that the three of them had finally been able to figure out a routine.  Finally, their little girl was starting to sleep through the night, and she and Jake have learned to adjust to their new normal (which always seems to be changing; but if there is anyone that has taught Amy Santiago to expect the unexpected, it’s Jake Peralta).  

None of it has been easy - most of the great things in life rarely were - but she would do it all again in a nanosecond, just for the sheer joy of hearing her daughter’s laugh for the first time.  

Today, Amy stands amongst family with freshly cut hair (thanks largely to her husband taking an extra day off yesterday, pushing her out their front door with a declaration that today is Amy Day), wearing one of her favourite dresses and lending out a helping hand as she talks to other adults about topics other than teething and feeding schedules, and it all feels kind of amazing.  

A stray breeze grabs a hold of a pile of napkins that had been sitting at the table, throwing them carelessly over the surrounding grass, and Amy scrambles quickly - desperate to catch them before they fall victim to the trampling feet of her many nieces and nephews.  It turns out to be an almost impossible task, excusing herself with a polite smile as she moves too close for comfort towards other people’s gatherings, snatching up the items as quickly as possible so that she can make a hasty exit.  

It’s as she moves to grab the last offender that Amy manages to overhear a conversation, the guilt at eavesdropping only temporary as she picks up on the topic.  There are two women to her left, both of whom were nursing what looked to be wine coolers in plastic cups, and one woman’s focus was on something (or rather, someone) in the distance before her.

“Ohmygodokay, Jenna … don’t look right away, but I’ve totally just found the hottest guy at this park.”  There’s a pause, and then the voice continues.  “I told you not to look right away!”

“Okay, okay - relax Rachel!” was the snarky reply, following up quickly with an “Okay, damn!”

Still keeping her head bowed, Amy’s wedding ring set sparkles in the sunlight as she reaches out to grab the last napkin, and it’s taking all of her restraint not to straighten up and look in the direction the women were facing.

“See?  I told you I’d found the winner.”

“Mmmhmm, yep.”

“The height, the smile, the baby sling strapped around him … you know, I’ve never really been big on plaid, but on this guy it totally works.”

“It really does.”

It’s the mention of the plaid pattern that finally piques Amy’s curiosity, and she swivels her head as she stands, raising her free hand above her eyes to shield them from the sun as she studies the scene before her.

And honestly, the gossiping girls behind her were not wrong.

The hottest guy in the park was definitely walking towards them; and with an overwhelming surge of pride Amy notices that the hot guy is, in fact, her husband.  He’s wearing the eco-friendly sunglasses she bought him for Christmas, and has their baby daughter safely strapped to his chest care of the sling that Gina had given Amy at her baby shower, and he’s honestly never looked hotter.  

Returning from Diaper Duty - a role he shares equally with his wife without a single complaint, a fact that makes her love him all the more - Jake grins over at Amy when he notices her looking, lifting their daughter’s hand in a tiny wave as she moves towards the two of them.  

“Hey babe,” he says as Amy nears him, lifting his index finger to his lips in a shhh motion as they fall into step together.  “Sorry it took me so long.  Bubba took a little longer than normal to settle, so she and I just kinda hung out for a little bit over by the flower beds, and then she totally zonked out.”

Craning her neck, Amy looks over at the tiny sleeping bundle resting against Jake’s chest, and she cannot help but feel her heart smile at the sight.  “My god she’s adorable.”

“Ugh, I know right?  Like, obviously we were going to make a cute baby.  But this?  It’s like a whole other level of cuteness.  I literally cannot handle it.”

Slowing down her pace, Amy waits until she and Jake are standing on the outskirts of their family gathering before leaning in for another look, this time leaving a gentle kiss against the hat that sat on top of their daughter’s head.  (Truly, there was no way anyone could have prepared her for how endearingly tiny all of their little girl’s clothing would turn out to be.  Tiny hats!  Teeny tiny socks!  Ruffle covered bottoms!  It was all too much, and yet never enough.)  

“Here,”  Jake offers, revealing a plucked daisy; the white petals looking far too small inside his crazily sexy hands.  “We picked this for you.”

With her eyebrows raised in surprise, Amy looks up at Jake with a smile, taking the tiny flower and tucking into the juncture of her ear and hairline.  “You two … are just the sweetest,” she mumbles, grabbing Jake’s hand and bringing it up to leave a kiss against his wedding ring.  He grins in return, resting his hand against her lower back when she frees it, leading Amy gently towards the rest of the guests as lunch begins to be served.  

*

It’s over an hour before Jake and Amy find themselves with a chance to pull away from the others, tidying up the remnants of lunch before standing off to the side and watching their cousins negotiate one last round of playtime before the drive home. 

Resting her head against Jake’s shoulder as his right arm wraps around hers, Amy lets out a contented sigh.  Apart from a brief moment of activity where she’d demanded a bottle, their baby girl had spent the majority of the afternoon asleep against her father’s chest.  Knowing that she was comfortable and safe, while she and Jake sat together with family and caught up on each other’s lives, had relaxed Amy to no end.  

Smiling up at Jake’s phone as he whips it out to take a selfie, Amy nods in approval at the resulting image before remembering the conversation she’d heard earlier.

“You are totally the flavour of the day, by the way.”

Turning his head to the right, Jake studies Amy’s face for a moment before furrowing his brow, replying with a confused “Huh?”

Nodding her chin towards the other women in the park, one side of Amy’s mouth slides upwards into a amused grin.  “Just before you got back from diaper duty, I happened to overhear a couple of girls talking.  And they totally declared you to be the hottest dad around.”  Turning her body towards his, Amy reaches out to toy with the lining of the unbuttoned plaid that he’d thrown over the top of his shirt today.  “I, of course, could not agree more.”  

Shrugging his shoulders, Jake pauses as the information sinks in, then shakes his head.  “Hottest dad, huh?”

Pulling away slightly, Amy looks at him in surprise.  “I thought you knew?”

Jake cocks his head to the side, and she smiles before continuing.  “You’ve had the biggest smile on your face all afternoon, Peralta.  It’s practically stealing the sun’s job, it’s so bright.”

Her husband laughs at the comparison, his left hand reaching out to cradle their daughter’s head as his chest bounces repeatedly.  “Ames,” he responds, letting his right hand slide down Amy’s back before grabbing her left, “I’m out at the park with family on a long weekend off.  I’ve got my baby girl all snuggled up safe and sound, and my gorgeous wife is walking around in the same pink dress I remember peeling off her body on the first day of our honeymoon.  Life is pretty damn good today.  It’s no wonder I’m smiling.”

Amy’s heart stutters a little at Jake’s statement, her bottom lip curling up at the sweet nature of the man she loves.  How she managed to get this lucky, she’ll never understand.  Pushing herself up to her tippy toes, she cranes her neck up towards Jake and pushes a quick kiss against his lips.  “Good save, babe.”

“Not a save so much as it is the truth,”  Jake counters, leaning back down for another kiss.  “I’m the luckiest man alive right now, and that is the only thing I know.”

Cupping his cheek in her hand, Amy matches Jake’s smile with her own.  “I love you, babe.”

“I love you, too.”  Dipping his head, Jake kisses her once more, then pulls away quickly.  “Wait.  Does this mean … I’m a dilf?”

Twisting her mouth to one side, Amy pretends to consider the obviously correct title before nodding.  “It totally does.  But … only if that means that I’m a milf in return.”

Jake’s forehead leans against hers, and he holds Amy’s gaze as he winks, lowering his voice so that only she can hear his reply.  “I think the events from two nights ago will confirm that is most definitely the case.”

Amy feels the blush begin at the tips of her ears, flooding her cheeks before she has a chance to control it, and Jake chuckles softly at her reaction, running his hand soothingly up and down her back as she rests her head against his shoulder again.  Peeking down at their daughter, Amy takes in the fact that she’s still sleeping and whispers “Your daddy is always finding ways to make mama blush, bubba.  We’ve gotta figure out some ways to counter-attack.”

“Oh, please.  She had me wrapped around her little finger, exactly zero point two seconds after she was born.”

Chuckling softly, Amy nods in agreement.  “Same.  If only she knew the power she has over us.”

A minute snuffle comes out of their daughter’s mouth as if in response, her perfect little lips bunching up into a tiny pout as she nestles closer to Jake’s shirt.  There’s a tiny trail of drool left behind, and like two totally enamoured parents, they both find themselves smiling at the result.  

“Oh yeah, she totally knows.”

Nodding again, Amy wraps her free arm around Jake’s waist, closing her eyes briefly and breathing in the scent of his cologne as she lets the last of the day’s sunlight soak into her skin.  

Truly, this was turning out to be an amazing day.  And she had the strongest instinct that there were a thousand more great days, just like this one, waiting for them in the future.  But the future could wait - because she had everything she needed, right here in her arms.  

[lonestarpost]

Episode Review - 2100 Degrees

by @lonestarbabe

9-1-1 Lone Star’s second episode of its second season, 2100°,  presents viewers an unfathomable disaster. A highly-promoed volcanic incident gives the original 9-1-1 a serious competitor in its bid for the most outlandish emergency scenario to ever be imagined. Funnily enough, the outrageousness allows the show to combine offbeat humor and character development that culminate in utter heartbreak. While the insane 9-1-1 calls may be the flashy attention-grabbers of the show, it is the character dynamics that make the show most compelling and allow the audience to suspend their disbelief and become invested in the lives of the characters. Thus, the episodes that align their attention around the characters’ lives rather than the emergencies are the most endearing. 2100° puts the characters front and center and allows the emergencies to reflect the concerns and insecurities of the characters, and it wonderfully shows the forged togetherness of the 126 and everyone in their periphery.

The episode begins with a pool party that inherently feels more dangerous in a COVID-19 world, even before the party turns into a flesh-melting horror show commences. The pool becomes the first volcanic hot spot viewers see, and the irresponsible partygoers start to live out their worst volcanic nightmares. The next scene cuts to eight hours before the party. The 126 is having a party of their own to celebrate Owen being in remission from his cancer. The event is made comical with a tumor cake that T.K. had gotten made to look like scans of Owen’s tumor. It’s no doubt an ugly cake, inscribed with the words “Tumor Slayer,” but the gesture shows how the 126 has built a family and how they have become even closer since we saw them meet way back in season 1. Cheesy tumor jokes are shared in jubilance, but there’s undeniable darkness that still looms. Owen sets the tone of the episode when he says, “I am both repulsed and moved.”

Hints of what is to come in future episodes are shown through casual moments. Carlos not-so-artfully dodges T.K.’s inquiry about meeting Carlos’ parents, Tommy sits alone and shows the insecurities she has about coming back to the job, and Owen broods rather than enjoying the party. Gwyneth tries to get Owen to not bottle things up (referring likely to their past relationship issues). Things are looking up, but there’s still a sense of unease that follows viewers into the next scene, which features a young family. They’re having a fun day at Paradise Family Fun Center. The dad seems to be in good spirits as he plays mini-golf, but his wife mentions that he is tense. Just like Owen, he is bottling his feelings up. He’s set over the edge when he misses the shot for mini golf, and it’s revealed that the family is “officially broke.” As the husband boils over, his wife is understanding. You can see the tension drop from the husband’s shoulder, but before the moment can get too comfortable, in true Lone Star fashion, the man falls into a steamy pit. This scene furthers the sense of urgency that suggests the 126 shouldn’t get too comfortable— the world is too unpredictable for comfort.

The 126 rescues the man with Marjan diving into action without waiting a beat, and while tending to the family, Tim makes a dangerous promise to a child that “Nobody is going to die today.” The minute the words are out of his mouth, it’s clear he’s said the wrong thing. Tommy scolds him about it, telling him that he wanted to make himself feel better by reassuring the child, but just scenes later, she makes similar promises to her eight-year-old twins. She feels guilty, knowing it’s never good to make promises that she can’t guarantee. She’s self-aware of her actions, and the guilt begins to spike. She is doubting her role as a leader, and she wonders if she can balance her work and family life, which is a reoccurring theme for the new character. Gina Torres excellently shows the conflict the character faces in a way that feels subtle but poignant.

Grace gets one of her few moments in the episode when a young woman named Lily is stuck in a comedically named food truck called Guac and Roll that sells vegan Tex-Mex. She is surrounded by both scorpions and lava. Yikes! Grace thinks quickly, and she’s an expert at keeping a reassuring voice as she goes through options until she finds one that works. Grace sounds so in control that it would be easy to lose track of how smartly she manages emergencies. Grace helps Lily create a dressing concoction to get the scorpions to scramble until Carlos comes and escorts Lily out.  Seeing Carlos, however briefly, always makes a scene better, and he and Grace make a pretty great team.

Back at the pool, nice girl, Elise, has badly burned herself by trying to save a jerk, who had mocked Elise for her looks, saying that she is a “Waco four.” A nicer young man, who pines for Elise, is hit by volcanic debris, which draws the attention of Tommy and Nancy. Elise and the young man are taken to safety, but the chaos only increases for the 126. Tim tends to a young man, Spence, and despite Spence’s pleading for reassurance, Tim refuses to promise that Spence will be okay, learning from his past mistakes. Unfortunately, it is at this time his words come back to haunt him. The words “Nobody’s dying today,” feel especially ominous as the volcanic debris strikes Tim and kills him right there and then. The show doesn’t take the time to even try to save him, which makes his death blink and you miss it. The speed of the tragedy shows how quickly life can take a turn for the worse, and it adds to the helpless feelings the 126 collectively has in the following scenes because they were powerless to save Tim, but they still regret that they hadn’t found a way to save him.

The final quarter of the show is fittingly dedicated to the initial grief that the team is feeling. They are despondent, and Nancy especially expresses guilt over leaving Tim. They had no choice but to leave him, and Judd’s words, “There was nothing left to work on, Nancy,” feel like a big, volcanic boulder through the viewers’ hearts. The small gestures between the 126 show the skill of the actors and the closeness of the team.  Marjan grounds T.K. with a hand on his shoulder. Judd passes Marjan a pillow after clutching it himself (just as he did when he clutched the pillow in therapy back in episode 2). Judd, incredibly familiar with the pain of losing members of his team, is a voice of reassurance and strength in the ending scenes, and this shows how much he has grown. He tells Tommy that she has added to her family, which reiterates the idea that while they have all lost so much, the 126 is still family. Prompted by Judd’s words, Tommy apologizes to Nancy for her loss, and then changes her words to say, “our loss.” You can feel in this moment, as she comforts Nancy, that Tommy is becoming more integrated into the group whereas before these episodes she only really knew Judd and Grace.

The final moments show how each of the 126 and their family members are coping with the loss. The song Hallelujah makes the scene even more heartbreaking and the startling beauty and horror of the falling ashes sets the tone of the montage. You can feel the grief of each of the characters, but there are moments of intimacy and love between the intense sorrow (and these connections make these final moments all the more painful for the viewers). These moments are some of the best images in the entire show, and they evoke so many feelings without having to overact the grief that the characters are feeling. These moments feel resigned, and the helplessness they all face is tangible. All they can do is search for the parts of their life that give them meaning and reprieve from their feelings of loss.

In these moments, Owen pets Buttercup and talks to Gwyneth about what has happened. He sits outside, after just recovering from lung cancer, and breathes in volcanic ash as he drinks tequila in a way that feels unhealthy. His survivor’s guilt from 9/11 is still strong, showing that loss doesn’t just go away over time. Marjan and Paul are together, and Marjan tearfully boxes with Paul. Mateo goes on a lone run, and you can imagine the dialogue that’s going on in his head— the pained thought that he is always in trouble. The guilt that naturally comes with such thoughts is probably intense. He runs to a church, halting in front of it as the song starts to reach its crescendo. He’s looking for meaning, and it is no coincidence that he is the one character who has no companionship in those moments. Tommy, meanwhile, tends to Buster, Tim’s kitty, who she has brought into her own family. The moment shows immense progress for Tommy, and it only took her one episode to make such large strides.

In one of the most powerful moments of the episode, we see T.K. entering Carlos’ apartment. He climbs up the stairs before falling into Carlos’ waiting arms; this instant is a glimpse of the intimacy that viewers have been wanting to see between the characters. It is a brief but painful moment. Echoing the scene between Carlos and T.K., Judd goes home to Grace, who is waiting in bed; she is still awake and pulls Judd closer. They have each other, and that is a small comfort. Judd’s face is filled with all the memories and sorrow that he has gone through in such a short time. He doesn’t close his eyes. It will be a sleepless night for everyone.

The episode was beautifully paced, and it showed the bond between the team. It emphasized relationships between characters over plots, and the balance between the characters felt more balanced. 9-1-1 Lone Star is making good progress with its characters and learning how to balance the large cast of characters. Nevertheless, the show still has work to do to make sure that the diverse characters are not objectified or ignored. Too often, characters like Grace and Carlos are used merely as puppets in other characters’ stories. For example, while Carlos was expertly played by Rafael Silva in this episode, his appearances were brief, and when he did appear, he furthered other people’s storylines, particularly T.K’s.  The future for these often neglected characters looks promising, however, and the show will make great improvements if they learn to incorporate all the core characters better. 2100° shows both the progress that 9-1-1 Lone Star needs to make, but it also