#i need like a bungalow or like a ground floor flat

[gregmarriage]

are things going good for me, if i’m dreaming about moving out, but in a healthy way, not in a like ‘a runaway from home and get fucked up’ type of way? and i don’t feel trapped here anymore, i feel like, maybe, the future could be good? *vomit noise*

[blue-aconite]

permanent || b.c.s

Summary: “Do you like it?” He’s wrapping his arms around her, his chin resting on the top of her head as they stare down the path.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1038

Pairings: Beau Simpson x f!reader

Authors Note:��I don’t know what happened, but Cyclone wanted to say hi. Thank you my loves @ereardon​ @yanna-banana​ and @writercole​ for beta’ing and Cole for the title as well!

- Leave your weekend open. Got time off. We’re going away.

She stared at the text, salad forgotten. Going away for the weekend was a big deal. She turned to Danielle, showing her the phone. 

“What do you think?” She chewed on her bottom lip, her unoccupied hand tapping the table. 

“I think you should stop second guessing this and just go. Take a leap. You’ve had a fun couple of weeks, right? He’s handsome, kind and I know you don’t want to hear this, but you never shut up about him.” Danielle wiggled her eyebrows, making her laugh. 

Danielle was right. Even though they had only been seeing each other for a couple of weeks, she was hooked. He was everything she looked for in a partner, something she didn’t think she would find again after Adam. 

But then she met Beau. She had been distracted during her run one morning, slamming straight into him, falling flat on her ass and spilling his coffee all over his front. Instead of the scolding she had expected, he had helped her up from the ground and apologised for not getting out of her way. In turn, she had apologised for the spilled coffee. They made small talk and she was pleasantly surprised when she left the encounter with his number and a promise of dinner. 

Things had gone smoothly since. He worked long hours but she didn’t mind. He still made time for her and while they hadn’t put any labels on their situation, she felt like it was heading somewhere serious. 

Especially now, after receiving his text.

“Oh my god, stop thinking so much. Just go. Spend the weekend with your sexy admiral and have lots of steamy sex. You need it.”

She rubbed her forehead at Danielle’s words, but couldn’t hide a smile. A weekend away with Beau sounded lovely. She picked up her phone, opening their conversation. 

- Sounds wonderful. What should I pack?

“Hi darling. You look lovely.” Beau grabbed her bag and opened the door for her at the same time, ever the gentleman. 

“Beau, I'm wearing sweatpants.” she chuckled, squeezing his bicep in thanks as he helped her into the car. 

He pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth, putting his arm behind her seat to reverse out of the driveway. “And you look lovely. I did say dress comfortably for the ride.” 

“So where are we going? Your packing list didn’t exactly make it easier to figure out.” She twisted in her seat, hand settling comfortably on his thigh, feeling the muscles jump under her touch. 

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out, kitten. Be patient.” He laced their fingers together, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. “It’s a bit of a drive, why don’t you rest. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

She keeps their hands intertwined as she rests against the cool window, Beau’s hand warm in her own.

The resort is beautiful, just shy of a two-hour drive from San Diego. Beau refuses to let her carry the bags, and still manages to hold her hand while they check in and head to their bungalow. 

There’s a small path leading down to the beach and the deck outside the housing is surrounded by palm trees and colourful flowers. The inside is decorated with a cosy bohemian vibe and she admires the large bathroom with the tub, and rows with scented bath salts and other products. 

There’s a dip in the floor and sliding doors leading onto a small deck and a pool overlooking the ocean, lounge chairs situated on the side. 

Beau is busy putting away their bags, so she wanders out on the deck in the front, enjoying the quiet. 

“Do you like it?” He’s wrapping his arms around her, his chin resting on the top of her head as they stare down the path. 

She smiles, turning in his arms. “I love it. Thank you for bringing me here.” She leans up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, enjoying the way his hands tighten on her hips. 

“Only the best for my girl. You deserve a weekend away, I know work has been tough.”

Work has been tough lately but she gets stuck on the first part of what Beau says. His girl. They hadn’t talked about things and this trip certainly is a step into the future. Stuck in her own head, she doesn’t notice the worried expression on Beau’s face. 

“What’s wrong? Talk to me, beautiful." He's guiding them to sit down on the outdoor seating, keeping their hands intertwined as he kneels in front of her. She musters up a smile, reaching out to smooth a hand over his furrowed brow. 

“Nothing is wrong. I’m just thinking about us. I know we haven’t really talked about stuff and—” 

Beau cuts her off, hands cupping her face.“I want more. I want to wake up next to you, fall asleep with you by my side. I want to be the one you call when you’re having a bad day. I know it’s still early but I’m old enough to know that this feeling is permanent. I know what I want. And that’s you.”

If she wasn’t sure about her feelings before, she is now. Never has a man affected her like Beau Simpson. Never has she felt this way before. He’s the one. His words only confirm what her heart already knows. 

She smiles, leaning into his touch. “I’m in love with you. I want that too.” She can’t say it in the way he does but her words are enough for him. 

“I’m in love with you too. If my speech didn’t convey that,” he laughs, pressing their foreheads together. 

Beau kisses her then, softly, his hands leaving her face in favour of pulling her closer by her waist. She can’t help but smile into the kiss, almost laughing. 

“I would really like to check out the beach. But I think a quality test of the bed is first in order.” Beau laughs with her, hoisting her into his arms and marching through the door.

“Yes dear, I think you’re right.”

Taglist: @writercole @wildbornsiren @antiquitea @imjess-themess​ @therebeccaw​ @hederasgarden​ @fuckyeahhangman​ @princessmisery666​ @a-reader-and-a-writer @princessphilly​ @anniesocsandgeneralstore​ @yanna-banana​ @angstybluejay​ @shaded-echoes​ @green-socks​ @call-sign-jinx @ereardon @bobfloydsbabe @seresinhangmanjake​ @luminousnotmatter @top-hhun @ayorooster @crescentwolf @indynerdgirl @gigisimsonmars @kkrenae  @khaylin27​ @hollandorks​ @somenamewithepineapple​ @thedroneranger​ @call-sign-jinx​ @xoxabs88xox let me know if you want to be added/removed

[embyrinitalics]

I'd say fever is a classic whump theme🤒

Fine Lines

He can feel her leveling a frown at the back of his head as he keeps watch at one of the open bays, so there's no doubt in his mind that it's for his benefit when she says, "I think I've gathered enough data. You can set us down."

And he knows how independent she is, so it's both unusual and threatening when she asks him at the landing to help her carry a few odds and ends back to her room.

And in spite of the fact that they've gotten friendlier over the last few weeks, she's certainly never gone out of her way to get him alone, so when she lets the heavy drape that serves as the door to her Tabantha bungalow down behind him, he knows he's in for it. Still, he hopes.

He sets down her things, a bit wobblier than he'd like, and mutters a parting "Princess," without meeting her eyes.

"Link," she says. Her voice is quiet, but commanding. It stops him dead in his tracks.

He swallows, his throat all tightness. "Yes, Princess?"

Her fingers find his wrist. A benign enough gesture, but he knows better. Her fingertips find his pulse, lay cool and flat against overheated skin as she turns him around with it. And if she had any doubts, he's sure the expression on his face gives him away.

"You really should've stayed on the ground," she chides him.

"I'm fine."

"You're running a fever."

He fidgets, remembering with a shudder the way the biting winds aboard Vah Medoh seemed to draw the life right out of him and cast it overboard. He murmurs again, "I'm fine."

She wears a sad, incredulous smile at him, fingers brushing at his bangs—ghosting gently against skin, the way they had in Eldin just a few days before. Maybe a sign of affection, maybe a way to gauge his temperature. Either way it makes him shiver.

"Remember that fine line we talked about?"

The room is tilting, and his equilibrium is shot, and he's not even sure if it's from her fingers lingering on his wrist or the fever. He has to swallow again, blink some balance back into the world, before he says, "I didn't want you to have to go up alone."

"I wouldn't have been alone. I had Revali."

"Mmf," he grunts, and when her smile starts to grow he decides it's in his best interests to change the subject. "I'll go to bed," he promises.

"Your hut is three levels down," she scoffs. "You'll probably pass out half way down and fall headlong the rest of the way, and then I'll have no appointed knight at all. I'm surprised you haven't keeled over already."

She turns before he can object, piling extra blankets and pillows on the floor near the firepit. There’s a certain logic to her arguments. An appealing, hazy, attractive sort of logic. But he’s also sure there are a few important people who wouldn’t be pleased to know he had spent the night in her room. The king, for example. Though at the moment he can’t exactly remember why his opinion matters. But he’s fairly sure it does.

She says, when he hasn’t moved and he still seems to need convincing, “You clearly can’t be trusted with your own well being. I just want to see you safely through the night. Please?”

He takes a breath, not sure if he means to tell her that he’ll be fine on his own or that her offer sounds lovely and he’d been delighted to accept, but either way she interrupts, anticipating a rebuttal.

“I could make it an order.”

“All right,” he says before she can threaten him anymore, taking the first uneasy steps toward the middle of the room. “All right.”

She turns, satisfied, and he tries to lower himself as steadily as possible into the small nest she’s built. His legs give out half way down and his knees hit the ground, his hands flying out to catch himself, and he crawls the last few inches to the soft center of the pile.

He finally admits, staring at the floor, “My head is pounding.”

“I’m not surprised.” Her hands alight on his shoulders, guiding him, turning him on his side and then easing his head down. He’s expecting a pillow, so it’s startling when he finds himself in her lap. But he’s too weak to argue, for more reasons than one. She clucks her tongue at him, dabbing gently at his neck and temple with a moist cloth. “You’re burning up.”

This feels inappropriate, and tending to him like this is beneath her besides. But he tries not to think about it. He stares into the quivering fire, letting his head drift aimlessly towards other thoughts: how nice it feels, how long it’s been since he’s had someone care for him like this. It was his mother last, probably, though he can’t remember when. Years, now. He must’ve been something like...

Well. It was before the sword, anyway.

“Sorry,” he whispers, because it’s all he can think to say.

She puffs a derisive laugh. “What are you sorry for?”

He pinches his eyes shut, an awful chill wracking him from head to toe. It’s going to be a long night. He can’t think of a reason—or at least, a way to say what he means. So he doesn’t answer. That’s probably treasonous. But she doesn’t seem to mind.

“We’ve got to look out for each other,” she says quietly, almost ruminative.

It makes something warm in his chest. It reminds him of the night they camped in the canyon between Gerudo and Hyrule Field, when she’d asked him why he was so quiet, and how patiently she’d listened while he dredged up bits of an answer. That front that you put on for everyone else... you don’t need to with me, she’d said.

She’ll probably never know how much that meant.

“Princess,” he murmurs, not quite in his right mind and aching all over. She brushes his bangs back, peers down at him with an arched brow, expectant, until he corrects, “Zelda.”

Her expression softens approvingly, and she dabs the cloth in the bowl again and lays it against his forehead. He watches her out of heavy-lidded eyes, dizzy and prickling and hot. Utterly miserable. Utterly content.

“Thank you.”

She doesn’t answer him, just keeps his forehead cool and rakes her fingers softly over his scalp until he sighs and closes his eyes, and then stops thinking altogether.

[im-hqlover]

Imagine Owen Grady proposing.

(No image used belongs to me)

A/n - Okay, maybe I got a little excited while writing this, but I have to say, I don't regret anything, because I loved writing it, and I hope you like reading it as much as I did. For context this happens more or less in February / March 2015, a few months before the I-Rex incident, and it also kind of happens in the DT universe, buuut, maybe when I'm writing on the series, I'll do a second version of it, but in the dinosaur paddock where y/n trains, idk. 

This was requested by an anon, and I thank them again for making this request, it made me very happy, really. Thank you very, very much for that, and I hope you like it.

Enjoy~

Requested? Yes, by a wonderful Anon~ 

Summary: Imagine Owen doing a very romantic date with several surprises and asking you to marry him.

Warnings: You can die (of cuteness of course). Sex suggestion, and maybe it can trigger if you are like me and feel anxious when you can't see. Possible English errors. 

Pairing: Owen Grady x Reader 

Things you might find useful to know:

- The reader is female.

- The reader is 26 years old and Owen 31. 

- This takes place a few months before the events of the movie Jurassic World 1 

- Owen and y/n have been together for about 2 years. 

- This somehow happens in the same universe as Dinosaur Trainer (maybe it's part of the official, or is like an alternative timeline, i have to decide yet).

Y/n = Your name

L/n = Last name

F/c = Favorite color

F/fw = Favorite flower

Words count: 5377

Taglist:  If you want to be part of my taglist, please let me know!

(I hope I have put all the information, let me know if I forgot something)

After a long day at work, I finally arrived at my bungalow, where my faithful friend Kodi was waiting for me and came to greet me as soon as I opened the door. 

- Hi buddy, how was your day? - He grunted and I pet him behind his ears. - Mine was the same, as always. 

I put my bag on the couch and went straight to my room, and I was surprised to find a gift box on my bed, I was sure it wasn’t mine and it wasn’t here before, but I soon thought Owen left it there, since he is the only one who has the key to my house. 

I approached the box and picked it up, there was a post-it note with something written by hand that said the following: 

"I'll be there at 20:00, and if you can, dress in that f/c dress that looks very sexy on you ;)"

I smile when I read and a little laugh comes out of my nostrils, I open the box and feel my heart speed up when I see that there was my Polaroid camera that had been damaged and was now brand new, and in the box there was one of the first photos I took with Owen, where we were having a picnic outside his bungalow, in the photo we were both kissing while we both held the camera with one hand, and between us was Kodi and Red, I still didn't know how the hell we managed to get that picture. I looked at the small image for a few minutes with a smile and a tear escaped my eyes as I remembered that day. 

I left the camera and photo on the nightstand and went to the bathroom to shower, I had a cold one because it was still hot and I wanted to cool off from a long day exposed to the heat of Central America. 

After I dried my hair completely I did a high bun, and I wondered if I did makeup or not, and in the end I decided to do light makeup after brushing my teeth, I put on my favorite f/c dress which I can say was probably also my boyfriend’s favorite, and I put on my flat sandals that matched the dress. I looked at myself in the mirror for a few long minutes before I turned to Kodi who was lying on the bedroom floor. 

- Hey buddy, how am I? - He replied with a small bark and wagged his tail which made a noise when it hit the ground. - Thank you Kodi. 

I petted him and went back to the bathroom to keep all the things I had used, I organized the mess around my house a little bit and saw that it was still 10 minutes before Owen arrived to pick me up, I sighed deeply thinking about what I would do to wait for him. I looked at the camera on the nightstand and picked it up, analyzing it carefully. It was certainly the same camera, but I wondered how it had been repaired, looking almost like it was new.  I put the Polaroid where it was before and I took the photo, I had several photos that I had taken with that camera, but this was definitely one of my favorites, and because of that I had left it with Owen. I also observed Red, he unfortunately left us a few months ago, and I couldn't help feeling a little sad to remember that, he was Owen's dog, but I had become attached to him too.

I left my thoughts when I heard the sound of the wheels of a car making noise on the gravel, and Kodi barks towards the door and goes over there, I immediately leave the photo on the nightstand and go towards the door and wait for the sound of the knock on the door, which didn’t take long to happen. 

- Who is it? - I ask, but of course I already knew who it was.

- Hello miss, sorry to bother you this simple night, but could you tell me if y/n l/n is home? - I bit my lip to keep from laughing and thought about what I would answer.  

- Hmm, I don't know, she has been very busy with work lately, I don't know if she is available. - I leaned against the door waiting for Owen to answer. 

- And wouldn't she have some time on her busy schedule, even to go on a date with her amazing boyfriend? - I held back a small laugh in his pity and needy way, and took a deep breath before answering him.   

- Hmm, let me see. - I got off the door and opened it, revealing Owen, who surprised me because he was wearing a gray coat with matching pants, and wearing a black shirt, and he rarely dressed like that. I crossed my arms before answering. - Well, I think she does have a little time. 

Owen open a smile that melted my heart and showed his perfect teeth, that even after two years together it still made my legs look like gelatin. 

- You're beautiful as always. - - I smile at him and feel my blood boil on my face, he then removes the arms that were behind his back revealing a beautiful bouquet of f/fw flowers,  handing them over to me, which I picked up and smelled. 

- They are beautiful Owen, thank you. - I approach him, grabbing the collar of his shirt so that he bends down and then I could kiss him, I feel him put his hands on my hips, bringing me even closer to him, crushing the flowers a little bit. It was a deep and long kiss, a kiss to kill the longing since it was a week since the last time we saw each other, even if it was little, I already missed him and his lips,  but unfortunately we had to separate as soon as we needed air, he rested his forehead on mine and then I let go of his shirt I was holding up to that moment and put my hand around his neck.

- I missed you. - Owen whispered, still holding my hips, not allowing me to move away from him. 

- I miss you too. - - He kissed me again, it was a smoother kiss and it didn't take long because Kodi interrupted us with a bark, making me jump with fright, which made Owen laugh. 

- I think he wants us to go to our date soon. - Owen said and I laughed with him. 

- I'll put the flowers in there, I'll be right back. - I give him a quick kiss on the cheek and enter my bungalow, leaving the flowers in a vase that I had in the kitchen, and when I leave I close the door saying goodbye to Kodi, and Owen takes my hand and guides me to the car. 

- Can you tell me what the occasion is? - I asked Owen, and he turned to face me. 

- Hum? 

- The suit, you never wear it unless it is a very special occasion. 

- Our date is something special. - I laugh at his speech, and shake my head. 

- You know you don't need to dress up like that for our date, do you? I imagine wearing a suit must be hell, especially with the heat here on the island. You know I never cared about you wearing casual T-shirts and shorts. If we were on a date with you shirtless I wouldn't complain. - He laughed and scratched the back of his neck, was he nervous? He only did this when he was nervous, and it was difficult for him to do that. 

- I know, but I wanted to do something special. - I stop and look at his green eyes and think for a few seconds. 

- Am I forgetting something? What day is today? - He laughed softly before answering.

- No, you're not forgetting anything. 

- Then why something so fancy? I think the only time I saw you dressed like that was at your sister's wedding. You know I don't care about simple things. 

- I know baby, I just felt I should do something special for you. - He smiled and I looked at him suspiciously. - Oh, and you better use that. 

He took a black fabric from his pocket when he finished speaking. 

- What's that for? 

- I want it to be a surprise. 

- You are full of surprises today, aren't you Owen? - I cross my arms to him, which only makes his smile open even more. 

- Come on, turn around. - He gestured for me to turn around, so I did and he put the blindfold over my eyes, preventing me from seeing anything in front of me. - Can you see anything?

- I don't think so.

- It's too tight? - He asked as soon as I touched the fabric, and I shook my head. 

- No, that's fine. But where are you? - I look for him and then I feel him take my hand. 

- Come on, I'll help you. - I hear the car door opening, and with Owen's help I get in and sit on the seat,  and then the door closes, and a few seconds the sound of the other door opens and closes with the sound of the car starting. 

- Where are we going? - I ask as soon as the car starts to move, I shake my head trying to look at something, but I didn't see anything, so I decide to turn my head to "look" at Owen. 

- You'll already know. 

- Hm… - I cross my arms and turn my head forward, leaning against the seat. - You know I don't like not being able to see, right?

- I know baby, but it won't be long, and I promise that nothing will happen, and if you stumble I'll catch you. - Owen placed one of his warm hands on my knee, stroking it gently to try to make me comfortable, I laugh at the last part he said and keep "looking" forward, not being able to see anything beyond the darkness was scary, and left me feeling very vulnerable, my vision was everything to me, and being unable to see, even for a few minutes, terrified me and made me panic.

- Can you turn on the radio? - I ask him and hear him murmur in agreement, he removed his hand from my leg for a few seconds and then the sound of the radio invades the car, the song was over and I didn't recognize it, but the next one that started playing I already knew, and it was one of the songs that I've been listening to a lot lately, it was Am I wrong, by Nico and Vinz, and I started humming along with the song. Other songs I didn't know played , and then I finally heard the car stop and Owen saying.

- We're here. - I mumbled an ok, and waited for him to open my door and help me out of the car, I couldn’t see exactly where I was, but I could see something luminous, Owen took my hand and guided me to the brightest place, and when he stopped he withdrew my blindfold revealing the big tree that was next to his bungalow, its branches were lit with several yellow lights, and right below the tree there was the picnic table with a red towel, where there was a small vase with some flowers, the same as the bouquet he gave me, and there were two small candles beside them. My mouth was open, impressed by all that.

- So, what do you think? - Owen asked me as he put one of his arms around my waist. 

- Owen… this is… this is… beautiful, it's incredible. - I felt the air in my lungs leave me, that was so romantic and cute. I turn to face him and see him smiling. - Did you do all this? For me? 

- Well, I had a little help. - He shrugged and continued smiling, which made me smile.

- Thank you Owen.

- No need to thank me, not yet, because this is just the beginning. - Owen removes his arms from me and guides me to the table, I sat down and he did the same sitting in front of me. 

- Just the beginning? What else do you have to surprise me? - I raise my eyebrows in surprise and then look at him questioningly. 

- Calm down, you'll see. - He winked at me which made me smile and made my heart melt. - Waiter!  

- Wait, did you hire a waiter? - I was impressed, but when I turn to see the waiter my smile gets even bigger when I see my boyfriend's best friend.  - Barry!  

- Good night lady y/n, Mr. Owen, I am at your disposal tonight, what would you like to ask?

I looked at Owen who was also smiling, I realized that Barry was also wearing a suit, but it was a black suit with a white shirt, along with a bow tie, in addition he had grown his mustache and had a notepad, he really looked like the waiter.

- I thought of asking for the chef's special tonight. - Owen replied to the friend who nodded, I bit my lip trying to hold my little laugh, while looking at my boyfriend who didn't break eye contact with me and his smile had never disappeared.

- Uhum, it's a great request sir, it should be here in a few minutes. Want a drink to go with it?  

- Champagne, please. - I raised my eyebrows at the choice of drink, I saw Barry nod again and write on his pad. 

- I deliver immediately, sir. - As soon as he said that he went to Owen's bungalow. 

- Champagne, huh? - Owen nodded, and continued with that smile of melting my heart and making my legs weak. - I still think I'm forgetting something and you don't want to tell me. 

- Don't worry, you're not forgetting anything. - He put his hand over mine and drew small circles on my skin and I kept looking at his pretty eyes until Barry came with two glasses and a cold bottle of champagne, placing them on the table and opening the bottle and then pouring the liquid into the containers.  

- The food should come in a few minutes. - Barry announces and Owen and I agree, and then the waiter enters the bungalow again, I take a sip of champagne and realize that Owen is still looking at me.  

- What's it? Is there something on my face? - I say laughing because he is looking at me like that, and he laughed too. 

- The only thing on your face is the most incredible beauty I've ever seen. - He puts his free hand on my cheek, caressing it, I give a small nervous laugh and look away, I feel my face heat up. His compliments still made me feel like it was the first time I heard it and because of that I didn't know how to answer it, but I think Owen knew that I was grateful for that, even though I couldn't say it in words, or I at least expected him to know that. 

- Dinner is served. - Barry reappears with two plates in his hands, mine being my favorite food of all time, and Owen's was his favorite dish of course, steak with potatoes. - Enjoy the night, and anything just call me.  

- Thanks Barry. - Owen and I talk at the same time and Barry leaves with a smile and sits in a chair by the lake. 

- Jinx. - I speak at the same time as Owen again, causing us to laugh. 

- Jinx! - The same thing occurs and causes us more laughter. 

- Buttercup! - The fourth time happens, and I start laughing a lot about it, and Owen too, and when I calm down I hear the sound of a song start playing and look at my boyfriend, who was still smiling. 

- Come and get your love? - I ask Owen and he nods. 

- How about we eat our food before it gets cold? - I nodded, and so we started eating, we were silent, just the sound of music resonating, along with the rustling of the leaves on the trees and the sound of the water. 

- Did Barry do it? - I asked, referring to the food. 

- No. It was me. I just asked him to leave the food warm until we arrived. - Owen replied, and I mumbled an "hmm". - Is it bad? 

- What? No, this is wonderful. - I speak as soon as I realize he looked worried and I put my hand over his and look him in the eye. - Seriously, this is amazing, and I don't have enough words to thank you. 

His worried face disappeared as soon as I said that, and a smile returned to his face. 

- Well, I'm glad you liked it. - He paused for a few seconds before looking at me in that malicious way. - And I think I know a way for you to thank me.

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and I bit my lip smiling. 

- Better hold your pants Owen! - I hear Barry scream what made me laugh and Owen chuckled. 

We continue to eat and drink, and when we're done and the song Dancing in the Moonlight starts playing Owen offers his hand and says. 

- Wanna Dance? 

- I would love to. 

I accept his hand smiling and we both get up, Owen takes me a little farther from the table so that we have space to dance and not occasionally hit there. He put one of his arms around my waist, and with the other he held my hand and we started to dance, even if it wasn't exactly a slow song, but we danced anyway. One of the things that made me even happier is that today was a full moon, so it was very visible and bright, mainly because the only lights that were there were on the tree, so we were both literally dancing in the moonlight. I hummed softly when the chorus came, and I was surprised when Owen did the same, and about halfway through the song when the instrumental part came Owen spin me around and when we came back to the previous position he bends over pressing our lips sweetly, and when we split up we continued to dance slowly, the song ended and was replaced by December 1963. We danced for several minutes, listening to Hooked on a feeling, Sugar Sugar, Burning Love and Endless Love, the last of which Owen was humming softly close to my ear, which was making me shiver, but he stopped singing in the middle of music and then whispered. 

- I want to take you to another place. - I look at him silently questioning where he intended to take me, and then he pulls the blindfold out of his pocket. 

- Is this really necessary? - I ask, pointing to the black fabric in his hands. 

- Yes. - I raise my eyebrows and he smiles. - Trust me. 

I sighed and turned around so that he would put the blindfold over my eyes, and as soon as he checked that it wasn't too tight he took my hand guiding me to the car again, it took him a long time to get in the car and I suspected he was talking to Barry. 

- Where are we going? - I asked as soon as he got in the car, and he gave a little laugh.

- If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise. - He started the car and I crossed my arms. 

- I'm curious, I need to know. 

- You'll have to wait baby. - I rolled my eyes, not that he could see, I didn't really like to have to wait, and curiosity was eating away at me, along with that anxiety of not being able to see anything. Owen turned on the radio in the car where it was playing songs I didn't know, he also left his hand on my leg, making small circles on my skin. The drive took several minutes, and every second I was more curious to know where the hell we were, especially when he stopped the car.  

- We're here. - Owen commented as soon as he helped me out of the car and withdrew my blindfold, and I came across the velociraptors paddock. 

- Why are we here? - I asked as soon as we started climbing the stairs to get to the walkway. 

- I thought you would like to see the girls, since it's been a while since you saw them, and I think they miss you. - He answered me as we continued up the metal steps. 

- Of course I want to, but shouldn't they be asleep by now? 

- I think they don't mind staying awake to see their mother. - I chuckled when he said "mom", it was an internal joke since I mentioned one day that he was Papa Raptor, so he started saying that I was the mother of the velociraptors. 

- If you say. - We arrived on the walkway, I leaned on the railing and Owen put his arm around me and whistled, but nothing happened, I looked at him who whistled again. 

- Come on girls, don't you want to see your mother? - He speaks with his Alpha tone, but at the same time begging for them to appear, which made me laugh when none of them did.   

- Leave it to me. - I put my fingers on my lips to amplify the sound of the whistle, and in a few seconds I see Echo, who tried to imitate my sound, then Blue, Delta and finally Charlie appears. - Did you see? 

- Traitors. - He murmured more to himself, but I managed to hear what he said, what made me laugh, he was still a little jealous when I managed to get them to pay more attention to me than to him. 

- Hey, we are their parents, I'm sure they love us equally. - I caress his back and he looks at me. - And aren't you going to tell me that you didn't obey your mother just before your father?

- Yes, you are right. - He laughed and looked in the direction of the raptor squad, Delta and Charlie were making noises to each other as if they were going to attack each other, but nothing really happened, already Echo was still trying to reproduce the sound of my whistle, and Blue was attentively looking at Owen and me. - Delta, Charlie, stop it! 

He had to snap his fingers a few times and whistle until they stopped and looked at him. I rested my elbows on the rail and started talking to them.  

- Hey girls, how are you? Did you miss me? - They make some sounds that make me smile. - I missed you too. 

Owen changes position and stands behind me, putting his strong arms around my waist, pressing his chest against my back, and resting your chin on top of my head.

- Did dad fight you a lot this week? - I feel Owen's chest quiver with his muffled laugh and the velociraptors make more sounds. I was sure Owen would say something, but he said nothing, and we were like that in silence, with the occasional sound that the raptors made, I looked up watching the beautiful starry sky with the big, bright full moon. 

- The sky is so beautiful today. - I comment and Owen bends to stand at my ear.  

- Not as beautiful as you. - I open a smile and close my eyes, enjoying the cool breeze that hit my skin, and after a few minutes in silence I say. 

- Thank you Owen, for everything, it was an amazing night and I loved everything. - I turn to face him and put a hand on his cheek. - I love you. 

- I love you too. - Our lips are moving in a deep and passionate kiss, those kisses that I wish would never end, but that unfortunately we had to stop at some point, but this time it wasn't because of the air, but because Owen slid one of his hands up to my ass.

- Owen! - I tap him on the shoulder as he laughs and smiles innocently. 

- What?

- Not in front of the kids. - I speak laughing, putting his hand on my hip again and I hear the sound of the velociraptors.

- I think they want us to continue. - Owen said while lowering his voice with each word getting closer to my ear and slowly lowering his hand but I stop him from getting to where he wanted to go.

- I think they're saying, "Eww, mommy and daddy are kissing, how disgusting, stop it." - I tuned my voice to try to imitate a child which made Owen laugh. 

- Okay, maybe you're right. 

- But... If Barry has already left... we could go back to your bungalow ... - I suggest while playing with the collar of his shirt.

- I like that idea, however, I still have one last surprise. - I turn my attention away from his shirt so I can meet his eyes. 

- One more? First you surprise me with my camera that had broken and was now fixed, in addition to my favorite photo, then you surprises me being dressed like this all stylish along with a bouquet of my favorite flowers, and then take me to your bungalow where there was incredible decor, with my favorite food and champagne, with background music and Barry as a waiter, sooo you decided to bring me here to see the girls. What else would you have to surprise me?

- Well, I can make a huge list of things that I could surprise you with, but… I was talking to all our daughters and son about this for a while, and I think we all came to a consensus. - Of course he was referring to the velociraptors, the dinosaurs I trained and Kodi, for us it is as if they were somehow our "children". 

- Oh yes? A consensus among them all? - I ask curiously, it should have been funny that he kept talking to all of them to reach a consensus on something. 

- Shh, don't ruin the moment, I'm trying to be serious here. - I looked closely at his face, and by his expression he was really serious, and then my smile fell becoming serious too, paying attention to what he was going to say. 

- Y/n, I never thought in my life that I would have a serious relationship with anyone, I never thought that I would meet such a wonderful, beautiful, intelligent, funny, courageous, kind, loving woman who could have stolen my heart like you, and after thinking about it a lot I made the decision that I want you forever in my life, that you are mine and that I am yours. - He knelt down and took a black velvet box from his coat, and when he opened a ring it was inside, I put my hands on my mouth and I could feel the tears starting to form on my face. - So, y/n l/n, I want to ask you if you would like to become Mrs Grady. 

My voice was gone for a few seconds and my tears kept falling, so in the midst of sobs I managed to speak. 

- Yes, oh my god, yes of course. - I hugged him so fast and tightly, that he almost lost his balance and fell.

- Hey! Careful, it almost made the ring fall off. - He spoke with a little laugh and put his arm around my waist, I move my head so I could face Owen and he had a big smile, we stared at each other for a few brief seconds when we slowly approached our faces and sealed our lips in a passionate, deep, full of affection and breathtaking kiss, I don't know how long that moment lasted, but I wish it would never end. 

When we separated our lips, Owen gently took my left hand, sliding the ring on my finger, after he put away the small velvet box our lips met again, until we were interrupted by the sounds of raptors below us. 

- Yeah girls, now it's official. - Owen told the squad what made me smile even more, and I looked at my finger to see the ring, it was silver and had small details carved into it, but what I found strange was that I had a familiar feeling about that ring, I was sure I had seen it somewhere before.

- I know you don't have a jewel like most engagement rings, but I know that you would like perhaps something more simple and sentimental than something extravagant. 

- Wait... I recognize that ring, it... it is my great-grandmother's engagement ring... how did you get it? - I look at him and he scratches the back of his neck before answering me. 

- When I was looking for a perfect ring, I called your mom to get a suggestion of what you would like, and she said I could use the ring that your dad used to ask her in an engagement that belonged to your great-grandmother. We all know you like these sentimental things, so I accepted her suggestion, and she sent me the ring. Not you… - I shut his mouth by sealing our lips, and I could feel him smiling during the kiss. 

- Oh Owen… that… is perfect. I love you very very very much. - I say as soon as we split up, his smile couldn't be bigger, and of course I return him with a smile too. - Thank you. 

- I love you too. And you're welcome, I just do what's best for my girl. - Our lips meet again, and again the velociraptors make a noise from below. - I love you too, I love all my girls. 

He said, addressing the dinosaurs below us who were still watching us closely.

- And boy, don't forget Kodi.

- And boy. Even though he's kind of disobedient to me and…

- Hey! - I playfully punch him in the chest making him laugh. 

- You didn't let me finish, I was going to say that I love him too. - We both continue to smile like two idiots that we are, and without realizing it we started to dance slowly there on the walkway, even without any music. 

- We didn't even get married and we already have 8 daughters and 1 son. - I laugh at the thought of our dinosaurs and dog as our children, which in some ways wasn't wrong, since they were like children. 

- Well, not that I want to have a real baby now, but we could do the process of one, you know… - Owen moved his eyebrows suggestively making me laugh, he ran his fingers through the zipper of my dress, threatening to open it. 

- First let's put the children to bed, and then we go back to your bungalow and... we can see what can happen ... - I ran my fingers over the collar of his shirt. 

- I can't wait for that. - He smirked and before I could stop him he hit my ass. 

- Owen! - He left my side and started walking quickly down the walkway.

- Let's go girls! Time to sleep! - He gestured for them to go to the cage where they slept, he didn't need to repeat the command and soon they went. - And you come with me. 

He gestured towards me and I bit my lip and crossed my arms. 

- Oh I don't know... should I? - I teased him and didn't move from the place I was, but Owen approached me slowly with that look of "Do you dare disobey my orders?". 

- Are you disobeying the orders of Alpha, miss? - He stood a few centimeters from me, with his arms crossed and looking "serious", I forced myself to look serious, but that was very difficult.

- Who said you are Alpha? - I asked him, not breaking eye contact for even a second, and before I could regret what I said he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. - Owen! Put me down! 

- Since you doubt my authority as Alpha, I think I should show my domain over here. 

I start to laugh and hear his muffled chuckle and he starts down the metal stairs, heading towards the car. 

I think today would be a long night. 

A/n - Hey, here we are again! I hope you liked it and that this is good. As always if you find an english error or find something confusing please let me know so I can fix it.

Until the next post! 

- Ina - 

Masterlist

[madhyanas]

here be dragons

Part 1 of the Hospitality series

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x fem!Reader

Rating: T/PG-13

Word Count: 4.6k 

Warnings: One use of a slur, aimed at the reader.

A/N: ahhhhh it’s a little late, but i finally finished this. now i can finally start posting this series in the RIGHT order, oh my god. check it out on ao3 here, if you want.

It’s late.

You lie in your cot, staring into the darkness. Unable to sleep, surrounded by the vicious tempest outside. It’s raining heavily; pelting down so hard you can hear it through the roof and feel it through the floor. Occasionally, you hear a boom of thunder, and the inn doors rattle and shake.

You’re glad you fixed the waterproofing this morning.

In a storm like this, you hold some half-hearted hope that a traveller will stop by. Someone soaked and freezing; desperate enough for you to hike up the price of lodging without turning away business.

Swindling a tourist here and there can’t hurt, in the grand scheme of the galaxy. You have to eat, after all.

The rich scent of waterlogged earth fills the room, and something about it seems unfamiliar. You’ve accustomed to the occasional downpour by now, having lived on Takodana for many years. But the lingering air of petrichor reminds you just how different home was — all dry deserts and salt flats, the odd dust storm. Certainly no lush greenery or blue skies.

As a lump settles in your throat, you miss the mechanic stand from your childhood. The slick smear of oil on your mother’s cheek as she gave the speeder a tune-up. The stripes on your father’s montrals above the welding mask as he soldered wires back together. When he was done, he’d always squish your little face in his palms. Smoothing his thumbs over the white markings on your face, near identical to his. The only symbol of your Togruta heritage, contrasted on a face of your mother’s colouring.

You sigh, and sit up. Now, you’re stuck here. Running an inn by yourself, out of business and in denial about it. You miss the feeling of freedom that came and left with youth; running through the streets, being swept up in warm, protective arms. Your mother rolling her eyes. Your father’s laugh.

Suddenly, a bang. You hear front doors slide open, and your heart leaps into your throat. The sound rings in your ears for a moment with its violence. Blindly, you grab the vibroblade from the table and scramble to the entrance. You’ve never used it before, and you pray the doors are just malfunctioning.

As you skirt through the narrow passageway, your stomach drops. No such luck. A large, silhouetted figure stands before the main desk, looming ominously as the wind howls outside. Maker, they’re huge. Far bigger than you, and a small, nagging part of your brain says they could kill you in a heartbeat.

It’s still dark. Frozen as you are, you haven’t turned the lamp on. In vain, you hope they might leave if no-one arrives. A bolt of lightning flashes outside, and the glare arcs off the stranger’s helmet.

Your eyes widen at the glimpse of a smooth, glass t-visor. A Mandalorian.

Oh, you’re fucked.

In that moment, they turn to you directly. The back of your neck tingles, and you realise they can see you. Their helmet turns down to the vibroblade in your hands, before returning to your face calmly. Of course. You don’t think you’re a very threatening sight, cowering in the doorway like this.

You feel remarkably stupid.

Hesitantly, you step forward and switch on the lamp at the desk with your free hand. Light pours out softly between you, doing nothing to calm your nerves. You squint, eyes adjusting to the brightness, trying to control the pounding of your heart.

“I am in need of lodging.”

You blink. The voice, low and rumbling, is scrambled by a vocoder. Male, from what you can tell, and the static scratches at your ears. He’s covered from head-to-toe in deep blue armour; rivulets of water drip off the steel, puddling on your floor. Some kind of pack rests on his back, and you try, fruitlessly, to ignore the glint of a trigger and scope.

Towering over you, you’d have to crane your head just to look him in the visor. You don’t have the nerve, in any case.

It occurs to you, faintly, that you could die tonight. It also occurs to you that the chances of an untimely demise would be significantly higher, if you keep gawking at him like this.

“Uh…”

“Lodging,” he repeats, sounding distinctly impatient. “Is there a vacancy?”

Maker, when is there not.

“Yes! Yes, there’s a— there’s a vacancy.” Fumbling for the log-holo, you set the vibroblade down in a cubby under the desk. Still within reach, and your receptionist autopiloting kicks in. “Uh, single room, how many nights?” You glance up at the shiny helm. The usual questions, but it feels… impertinent, asking for information. Like you’re violating his sanctity, or something, just daring to wonder. Especially about someone so clearly hostile. How does a faceless sheet of beskar manage to make your stomach churn?

“One.”

Of that, you’re grateful. One night, and you’ll be done with this. “Okay,” you reply, dragging out the sound. You sound nervous. He must be able to tell. “And, uh, name?”

He stares you down. It suddenly feels cold, frigid, even though his visage most definitely cannot change. It strikes you, in that moment, that even your sensitive nose can’t detect anything on him. The rain has washed it all away, except for a stubborn, smokey hint of blaster ammunition. Recently fired. A shiver runs up your spine.

Acerbically, he snaps, “Pick one.” There’s a rising heat behind the words, you don’t push your luck.

“I’ll— I’ll just put ‘Mando’,” you mutter, entering the moniker into the log. Once again, in the span of less than five minutes, you feel like a moron. Heat rushes to your cheeks.

But there’s one more caveat. You should probably forget it, just this once, but for some reason: “You’re not allowed to bring weapons inside. While— While you’re staying.”

A golden rule. One of the conditions upon which you were even allowed to run this place was your responsibility to maintain peace. (You often wonder what the Pirate Queen was thinking, believing you capable of breaking up any kind of violence.)

To your relief, the Mandalorian doesn’t explode with rage, or any such violent gestures. His shoulders are tense, but this — dealing with irritated, tired travellers — is familiar. He’s no different, you tell yourself.

“The weapons stay.”

“I can’t let you—”

“I’m a Mandalorian. Weapons are part of my religion.” You blink, and your silence seems enough for him to continue. “I won’t be using them on you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Keep your distance, and there won’t be a problem.”

A threat. Perhaps he’s trying to reassure you, in some strange way, but it doesn’t stop the cold fist of dread from closing around your heart.

“I’m… not supposed to—”

“You have my word.”

A muscle in your jaw ticks. Despite the nerves wrenching your stomach, there’s an urge to stand your ground. To defend the principles of Maz’s territory. (Or, more selfishly, to rebuke how easily he’s trampling all over you.) You shift, ready to argue.

But then he moves, one hefty arm lifting upwards, and you flinch. He pauses, before fishing a leather pouch out of a pocket and dropping it on the counter. You hear the familiar clink of credits. The sound elicits an instinctual reaction, a lurch of hope. You lean forward with a frown, inspecting the offering.

You gingerly pluck it by the drawstring, and its weight is a pleasant surprise. The contents are promising — a fee far exceeding the cost of one night’s stay.

A prickling mixture of shame and embarrassment heat your cheeks. Oh, how quickly your righteous anger fades at the promise of payment. Again, the back of your neck tingles. A reminder, that the Mandalorian is watching.

Taking a steadying breath, you bring your eyes back to the visitor. “Should I… show you to your room?”

A beat, then he nods.

You step to the side and flick the overhead lights on, waiting for him to go first. But he continues staring, and your skin itches with the weight of judgement. You realise he’ll only follow behind.

You swallow thickly, keeping your gaze averted as you lead him inside. Your little bungalow inn doesn’t have that many rooms to begin with, so you keep them all clean and ready for a guest — that’s not the issue.

But you have to go the night knowing there’s an elite warrior, perfectly capable of silencing your heartbeat, staying two doors down. You have to sleep with that knowledge.

You realise the vibroblade still rests in your palm. It feels clunky. Foolish, in your inexperienced hand. The Mandalorian’s heavy footsteps thud behind you, accented by the clank of metal armour. You clamp down the urge to rub the back of your tingling neck, and in some peculiar urge to reconcile, you half-turn to him as you walk. Slowly, showing him the weapon.

“Ah, I wouldn’t use this, you know. On you.” He’s crushingly silent, appraising you. He has to duck his head slightly to fit in the passageway, nearly filling up its width with his bulk.

You blather on, blindly spitting out words to fill the silence. “It’s just— all sorts pass through here, you know? This place has Kanata’s stamp of approval and all, but better safe than sorry.”

Still, no response, and you wince at just how green you sound. You swallow, having reached the doorway; you’ve led him to the quarters with the largest bed, having figured he’ll need it.

“There’s instructions to set the passcode inside. If you need anything,” you say, hoping he won’t, “I’m that door over there.” For one, awkward moment, you stand, feeling horribly out of place with the brooding figure at your side. “Well. Goodnight, then.”

You turn around, credits and blade in hand, ready to step into your quarters and get some kriffing rest, when the crawling, fuzzy feeling on the nape of your neck intensifies.

With one foot through the doorway, you hear him call out to you. “I thought no weapons were permitted.” A coarse noise crackles through the vocoder, and you realise it’s a laugh. You feel a cold sweat run down your back. “Is that blade just for show, then, little innkeeper?”

He— he sounds amused. Finding entertainment in your clear disadvantage. You feel sick, sick to your stomach, and slam the button to close the door behind you. Wetness springs to your eyes like clockwork, but the tears don’t fall even as you collapse on your cot. You’re pathetic, you think. Unable to stop him from belittling you, never mind barring him entry.

Sleep, though it eventually comes, is fitful and disturbed. Phantom helmets and mocking, modulated laughter fill your head.

In the morning, his room is emptied out. Bed made, fresher tidied.

No trace of the Mandalorian, at all. You’ve never been more grateful.

———

The second time you meet the Mandalorian, you’ve got your hands full.

“I’m not running a charity here.”

A Zabrak man has his hands planted on the desk, leaning into your space uncomfortably. Maker, guests like these test your patience.

It’s a poor attempt at intimidation. He’s taller than you, certainly, but gangly in a way that screams awkward, rather than lean. Scrawny, drawn out. Even the spikes protruding from his yellowish face are lumpy and faded. You wrinkle your nose at the faint, rank odour of sweat and booze. Overall, you’re unimpressed.

Besides, imposing figures don’t phase you much anymore. Not since that fateful encounter, nearly a cycle ago. You’d feared for your life that night.

Few were as large a threat as that Mandalorian.

The Zabrak hisses in your face, “Maz Kanata owes me a great debt. I’ll take it out of my bill.”

In your periphery, you can hear the telltale sounds of landing gear outside — a new arrival, but you can’t deal with that right now.

You blink slowly, and sigh. “Listen, this shtick you’re trying to pull? I’ve heard it before.” So, so many times. You’re not the only cheapskate in these parts. “You have a problem with Maz, you take it up with her. She doesn’t control my inn any more than I control the Castle.” That’s… not exactly true. But you doubt it matters to him.

Twisting his face unpleasantly, the man snarls, “I demand recompense, innkeeper. Return my credits, and we won’t have a problem.”

You recall being browbeaten at similar words. That night you cowed, frozen by the weight of mortality hanging over your head. But you have since hardened in the months that passed, and you steel your resolve.

Leaning close to the Zabrak, getting in his face, you speak through bared teeth. “You’re right. You get out of my inn, and we won’t.” Curling your lips into a disgusted half-sneer, “So I’ll be keeping my credits.”

“Insolent fool,” the Zabrak growls, and he moves to reach for something concealed behind his back. You jaw clenches — how did you miss that he was armed? — and you flinch backwards as he reveals a blaster. Before you can reach for your trusty vibroblade, the doors slide open with an innocent ting.

Standing there in the doorway, is your Mandalorian.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him, huge as ever, ducking his head to step over the threshold. Armed to the teeth, as per usual.  He saunters forward slowly, purposefully. The swagger, the presence in his gait impossibly makes him seem… bigger? Somehow even more bulky than last time?

The Zabrak whirls round, only to balk at the steely-blue cuirass his chin comes to level with. He’s harmless compared to the warrior before him. You can only imagine how tiny you must seem. The Mandalorian keeps his head inclined down to the horned man, who’s now gripping the desk behind him, but his words are for you.

“Trouble, innkeeper?”

Maker, it’s been months since you heard that rumbling voice. It still knots your stomach, but less so, you think, than it did. You’re surprised he remembers you.

Your confidence with the pesky guest has not dissipated, however, and you find your words. “I don’t know.” You address the Zabrak calmly, “Is there any trouble, sir? It’d be a shame if things got… unpleasant.”

The wilting man cranes his head to you with a frantic look in his eye, and you feel a flash of pity. Ah, kriff. You’ve made your point.

Glancing at the Mandalorian, you make a subtle ‘back-up’ motion with your palm, half-wondering if he’ll take offence. But thankfully, he does as you request, and the Zabrak’s wheeze of relief is audible as he deflates.

“Takodana Castle,” you start, a little gentler than before, “Is three miles that way.” You thrust a thumb to the side. “One path, cuts through the forest. Can’t miss it.”

The Zabrak stumbles his way around the Mandalorian, never taking his wide eyes off the helmet. The armoured man steps aside silently, and it’s a wonder how he makes such a simple gesture seem so mocking. Saying that he’s the one in control, even if it’s temporarily at your behest. All in the way he shifts, the dangerous glint of his blasters in the light.

The memory of his laugh, hearty and sinister, echoes in your brain. Your toes curl in your boots.

Once he’s out of the door, the Zabrak gains some ill-founded sense of security. His wiry frame tenses, and he glares at you, spitting, “Watch yourself, halfbreed.” With a single, fleeting glance to the Mandalorian, he runs off towards the forest.

…ah.

You purse your lips, and look to the floor out of habit. Heat rushes to your cheeks. The slur is not unfamiliar to you. Your lack of montrals and lekku allow you to blend in, to lie low. But your markings reveal who you are. It’s strange; you think you’re proud of them. What they represent, who gave them to you. But the wave of shame that crashes over you sends blood roaring in your ears. For the Mandalorian to witness this? It’s a pitiful sight.

In the corner of your eye, you see him clench a fist, and you quash the sickness of your heart down with a vengeance. There are more pressing matters at hand.

“So. It’s, uh, been a while.” You cringe at the heavy-handed attempt to change the subject. Now that cursed Zabrak has left, it’s like all your bravado has sputtered out. And, really? Last time you saw the Mandalorian, a man from a culture of elite warriors, you thought he was going to murder you in your sleep. Been a while, indeed.

He plays along. “Well, I was in the area. Figured I should save the damsel in distress, while I had the chance.” He leans an elbow on the counter, resting his weight on it, and for a moment you’re perplexed.

The Mandalorian is… teasing you. Relaxed against your desk, standing close but not enough to be invasive. It’s a far cry from that shadow in the pouring rain, haunting your doorstep. “Although, from where I was standing, you didn’t seem to need much help,” he continues smoothly.

Compliments? Maker, if it were anyone else, you might even think he was making a pass at you.

But it’s him, and you give the helmet a strange look. It’s a little freaky, in all honesty. “I… see. What business do you have here, then, Mandalorian?”

The helm sags slightly in what you can only describe as a falter. It’s jarring. So incongruent with the persona you have crafted in your mind.

“I can’t just drop by?” You imagine your disbelief is evident on your face, because he sighs, a deep and raspy thing, before his voice sobers a fraction. “I have business with the Pirate Queen.” Your shoulders slacken. Of course. It’s a relief, in some way, to know that the purpose of his visit is so normal.

You ready the holo-log at your side. “Ah, sure. How many nights?”

He straightens and rubs a hand to the back of his neck briefly. You stare at the offending limb, entranced by such a normal, hesitant movement. It’s… It’s so very human, for lack of a better word.

“I’m not looking for lodging.” You blink up at his visor, frowning. “My work should only take a day, at the most.”

“Then…”

“I told you. Just wanted to drop in.” That doesn’t answer anything at all, and he elaborates, “I rarely visit Takodana, innkeeper. I thought I’d say hello while I was here.”

Your lips part. What? How… how can there be so much lost in translation? You’ve been afraid of this man, or a barebones idea of him, for months now. Like some kind of boogeyman, under-the-bed horror to spook children into good behaviour. And he comes to you with something like friendliness, with a smart one-liner and warmth in his tone?

You shake your head, dazed; reluctantly, you decide to give it to him straight. “I… I wasn’t under the impression that we were friends, Mandalorian.” He stills, and you keep going. “Honestly, uh, last time. It wasn’t great, for me. You— You scared me.”

‘You still do’ sits on the tip of your tongue. In the disarming haze of his amicability, you can’t tell if it’s true or not. You ramble in the face of his silence, if only to quiet the conflict in your mind. “I thought that you’d— I mean, I thought that I might. Y’know. Die, that night. I was tired, okay, and— and I didn’t know what to think…”

You trail off.

The Mandalorian stands before you, wordless. Your knees aren’t trembling, but there’s a worry seated deep in your chest. It’s interesting, maybe, that you don’t know who it’s for. Guilt begins to creep up on you, bitter at the back of your throat. Kriff. Just as you open your mouth to say something, his voice comes through the vocoder.

“I apologise. I was not… I did not know. It was never my intention to scare you.” His voice sounds hoarse, like the very thought of your fear repulses him. His words are not clumsy, per se, but there’s a rawness there that makes you notice how eloquent he usually sounds. The visor does not stray from your face. “I am sorry. Truly, I am sorry.” His shoulders are slumped, and he’s curling in on himself slightly. Making himself smaller, you realise faintly, and he presses a gloved hand to his chest. The helmet bows. “Ni ceta. I apologise, innkeeper.”

You blink rapidly, not knowing what to say. That’s… an awful lot to take in. You can’t remember the last time someone really begged for your forgiveness like this. You swallow thickly. Don’t cry.

The air seems muggy, somehow. Heated. As if all the truth that has burst forth carries a flame with it, burning the space between you. Hesitantly, you place a hand on his vambrace. The metal is cool against the warmth of your palm, and you’re careful not to touch any of the buttons on the control panel.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “I appreciate that. It’s— it’s alright. I think.” You nod determinedly, as if to reaffirm your words.

Heartfelt apologies don’t spill out so easily from heartless men, surely. He’s worth more trust than you give him. And his stance — defeated, ashamed — no, it doesn’t suit him at all. The helm tilts back up to your face, and you shoot him a small smile. Some kind of impulse lurches in your chest; to comfort, to come together. It’s genuine, and there’s a rosy warmth to your cheeks that feels pleasant.

You slide your hand away from his arm to offer it in the air. It hovers boldly, an attempt to bridge the abyss. It takes him a second, but he clasps your hand in his. You shake firmly, and his grip is strong, yet not painful. Reassuring, in a way. You suspect he’s controlling it for your sake.

“Let’s start fresh, huh?” You give him your name, and he repeats it.

His baritone resonates in your ears; it sounds like molasses, dripping into chest and heart. To hear your name uttered with respect, reverence, in that clear-cut way he speaks. It is nothing short of a miracle, in a moment.

You reassure him immediately, “I don’t need yours, if you’re worried about that sort of thing.” You lick your lips nervously. “But I do need something to call you. Got a preference?”

He hums, and you’re grateful how at-ease he sounds. It’s better this way. “What was it I told you that day? ‘Pick one’, I believe.”

So. This is the Mandalorian. He’s got jokes.

You snort, more at the realisation than anything else, and his posture brightens. “If you’re sure.” You press your lips together, thinking of a name. The back of your neck tingles all the while, and the weight of his stare is welcome for the first time. “We could just keep simple? ‘Mando’ would work.”

“Original,” he drawls, not unkindly. “But fine by me.” You have no idea, but it sounds like he’s smiling.

“Alright, then, Mando.” It’s so surreal, chatting with your own personal nightmare after months, just to find out he’s kind of… sweet. Nice to talk to, in a way you didn’t know you needed till now.

———

You two make small talk for a while over the counter. Mild, lighthearted. You learn that Mando’s a much more nuanced soul than you first assumed. Thoughtful, contemplative — careful in the way he speaks to you. You’re not used to that kind of consideration, and it’s appreciated. He’s funny, too, in a crooked kind of way. Like a mismatched puzzle piece fitting in the wrong set, bringing a bemused, entertained quirk to your lips. He conveys wry amusement surprisingly well, despite wearing no facial expression to back him up.

Now that you’re not quaking at the sight of him, your curiosity emerges. Is it a pain, lugging so much armour around? Does he sleep with the helmet on? When did he get that ship, parked just outside? Is it painful, having such a pensive heart, but evoking fear with every step?

Mainly, though, you’re just happy. The blue of his beskar is softer to the eyes, now. It’s the feeling of dipping your toes into chill, crisp waters. Testing the mood of the current, of this new depth you have yet to discover.

Being friends. What a novel idea.

Mando turns to look out the window. The day is well into the afternoon; there’s still time before sunset. “I should get going,” he states, but makes no move to shift off the desk.

There’s a twinge of disappointment. “Oh. Right, your work.” You scuff the toe of your boot against the floor. What can you say, really? One day of budding friendship doesn’t give you the right to impose.

“Yes. The Castle is… eastward, you said?”

You hum in agreement with where his finger is pointing. A shame. You thought you’d have more time with him. “Three miles through the forest,” you intone glumly. “Can’t miss it.”

Would you have to wait a cycle to see him again? More? Would you be waiting here, stuck in your idyllic, but oh-so-small corner of the galaxy, waiting for your Mandalorian to return? You purse your lips; the image doesn’t agree with you. You don’t agree with it, rather.

Finally, he straightens, and the height difference doesn’t startle you, this time. (Impresses you, maybe. Makes something giddy flutter in your chest. But you can’t afford those thoughts, can you?)

Mando tilts his helmet side to side slightly, as if he’s considering something. Weighing the pros and cons, and the action is somewhat exaggerated. You pay no heed, picking at a nail bed idly. It’s childish, sulky.

“Three miles can be travelled by foot. No need to waste the fuel.” He turns to you. “Never been through these woods before, though. Might get lost.”

In your disgruntlement, you don’t catch the leading inflection. You sigh. “I don’t think a Mandalorian would have much issue with an uninhabited forest. You’ll be fine. Just one straight path; don’t stray and it’s easy—”

Mando bends down a little, and says your name seriously, prompting you to look up. "I might get lost. Could use a guide.”

Your lips part in realisation, forming a small ‘o’. That’s what you say, too, and heat blooms in your cheeks at his static-filled snicker. He thinks he’s clever.

“So,” you start swiftly, attempting to recover your dignity. “Is it my turn to save the damsel?” He turns to the door, and you step round the desk to join him.

“I can slay my own beasts,” he snarks, and the mirth you hear is lilting. “You can return the favour, for the dragon I just scared off.”

You huff. “Hardly a dragon, I think.” With finality, you flick off the electric lights and step outside into the clean Takodana breeze.  “Wasn’t really a rescue so much as pest control.” You detect the light, spiced scent of the fragrant tree bark nearby. It grounds you to this moment. Taking in a hearty breath, you do your best to put that stinking Zabrak out of your mind.

A few hours off would be good. You barely get any guests anyway, and Maz is the understanding type. Living for millennia must do that to you.

Mando says nothing as you punch the lock code digits into the door, and start to make your way towards the forest. You know the path to the Castle like the back of your hand, like the strokes on your face, but you have never walked it with company. You smile, unabashed.

There’s a first time for everything.

———

[note: if there’s any warnings you think should be mentioned, please let me know.]

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[ladybugmeat]

Allister - Summative Piece

In a text, Allister confided that he’d avoided returning to London for a fear that he’d traded in his homicidal tendencies for suicidal tendencies. And so, he never did return to London and died in Carlisle a month later. Died in mum’s bungalow with the lapdog at his feet. The Shih Tzu recovered on a bi-daily dose of Chicken Lucozade; a brown custard syringed down the animal’s gullet with the cooperation of six veterinary hands. Bella became Betsy, suffered bath, brush, and blow-dry, and went to live on a caravan park with a six-piece family in Milton Keynes. Allister was dead upon arrival. Mum described All’s body to have slunk into the shape of the armchair and his eyes to protrude like oven-roasted cherry tomatoes.  

The next morning, Cait emailed over a to-do list to have Allister cremated, the roof re-guttered, and the front-garden creeper cut back. An email arrived from the Crematorium itemising Allister Bruce Thompson as a White British Male of 26 years, standing at 6ft 3in, and weighing heavy at 230 lb. The numbers were hard, finite. I did not see the wide beetle-brow or the restless positioning of his ape-ish arms. Another enclosed receipt delineated him by the garb he came in. The Long Black Checkered GUESS Shirt, slung over his Box Cut Guns’n’Roses T-Shirt, Burgundy Socks tipping from his Adidas Originals. On his wrist, my old Silver Casio watch with the lagging minute hand. For a moment, the clothes loosely assembled to form something with limbs but on touching an arm, it gave way as softly as straw.

  Cait hung outside the Bikram studio assuming her usual pose, a cigarette lit beneath the umbrella. She piled in squealing and dumping a bag of smashed croissant on my lap. We returned the Jaycees suit and sat-naved up to Thunder Lane Crematorium Park. The grounds were spat with mange-like patches of pansies. The rain had evened and fell between short sheets of wind. The Crematorium complex administered the yellow mosquito buzz of tube lighting. Cait bit the shellac off her nails and traipsed behind, her track-top knotted around her waist. Aileene was a sour creature with features and a voice slight enough to impress as stiffly as milk at room temperature.  The urn was pulled like shoes at Hollywood Bowl, Aileene walking three-quarters of the alphabet deep and returning with my brother, shrink-wrapped, weighing in as gently as a novelty from a Christmas cracker. The metal pull-out wheels ran and pressed silently shut. Cait and Aileene commenced in a solemn administrative mime of to me, to you. The papers returned with Cait’s rag of biro, legible as a squashed fly.

  In the corridor, Cait poured more wine and looked through to the squalid space and the stripped mattress. The room had been a storage dump for our childhood hobbies. Behind where there had been cardboard high-rises cluttered with paints and flat footballs, was a small window spinning languid white shapes across the mattress when cars passed. Cait pulled a shirt from a bin-bag and hung it off her shoulders to where it stopped just above her knees.

��He never escaped the nips and tatties. I had to get away from mum fast or you’d have been rolling me to Bikram.’

For what Cait didn’t eat, she drank. She had never held down a nine to five but flitted between multi-hyphens, or what she cooed the life of a Slashie. According to Instagram, Cait Thompson was an actor/artist/dog-walker. Tomorrow, Cait Thompson could be a face painting guinea pig farmer, I wouldn’t know.

Cait let the shirt drop and returned to her glass on the chiffonier. I grabbed a handful of newspapers and twisted them around a Wolverine figure. I wrapped the papers around All’s first fishing-rod, the whelping Garfield alarm clock, the ceramic fishing weights Cait had made for a birthday. Cait was still talking, flicking out the knife on All’s Swiss Army. I watched her fiddle around trying to get the rusted corkscrew out, her auburn knot knocking the headboard. I was always quietly taken by how hair could be so red and to only watch it redden as she aged. I took another wodge of newspapers and set them down on the mattress beside her.

‘I think Allister was happy being mum’s basement baby. No late rent fines, no poverty meals sat up at one o’clock’ worrying about a boyfriend clattering in with a loud mouth, trying to take your clothes off again.’

I snatched the knife and she sat up straight.

‘I don’t think Allister wanted to be here. I think he needed to be here. Mum was ill, I was in London, you were Bikraming.’ I closed the knife and slid it halfway on the linoleum between us.

We continued silently. Cait returned with another bottle.

‘You should stop drinking. We’re nearly done and I don’t want you spewing in the car.’ I sat beside her on the mattress and tried a smile. Cait held her drink close and stared onto the ribbons of  light traversing the floor. Her hair had come loose on one side, and her expression had turned unusually coarse. She was drinking from All’s Thunderbirds mug, her hand running over the embossed Lady Penelope.

 ‘Here, let’s just get this done. I’ll drive you -’ I tried to prise the mug from her clamped fingers but Cait stood up and this pulled the mug from mine, to hers and into three pieces.

‘You should have spoken to him. Allister wasn’t right and you fucked off!’

The small window gave little to no light but in the near-dark, I watched the wine bloom in poppies over Cait’s white shirt.

‘You were here in Carlisle, you could have spoken to him whenever.’  My hand dripped over the mattress, my fingers still gripping the handle.

A car passed and the fractures of light flashed up the stained mattress. The wine had crept and deepened, and in the stifled light, it was almost black. Cait’s eyes were of an animal’s, caught in a forest fire.

I pulled the edge of the mattress up and onto its side. We carried it two roads down and slid it behind some bins. From the kitchen, I heard Cait spray Detoll and scrub at All’s floor. When she returned her hair was wild and her cheeks ablaze.

‘Wash your hands’ I told her.

[maatryoshkaa]

young god | chapter 2

serial killer!han jisung au

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11| 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | epilogue |

word count: 1.7k

warnings: this chapter contains mature themes, descriptions of violence, and foul language. 

description: no matter how hard he tries, jisung can’t shake off the feeling you give him, and it’s starting to drive him insane.

watch the trailer here!

2| up in flames

Jisung felt like he was burning up.

It was drizzling again, dark clouds knitting together in the evening sky, but he barely felt the drops hitting his skin. He was too focused on the feeling eating away at his gut as he wandered the streets, the sun sinking lower and lower in the horizon.

Warmth.

That was the only way he could describe what he felt: a warm feeling deep in his chest equal parts foreign and familiar, and it drove him insane.

Jisung’s head was pounding. Felix’s voice rang in his ears like a broken record, making him wince.

“Hey, ‘sung, you’re single right? I think I know a girl who’d be perfect for you.” Cue that signature, greasy Felix wink. “You free this Sunday, bro?”

Why had he agreed? Sure, it wasn’t like he was bad at relationships -- he knew all the sweet talk, smooth lies; they came almost naturally to him. He always knew what to say. What people liked to hear. But he had never wanted to keep them around for long. 

Until you.

The words to decline Felix’s offer had been already forming on Jisung’s tongue, but they had disintegrated as soon as Felix had pulled up pictures of you on his phone. Because the moment he saw the warmth in your smile, that light in your eyes, Jisung felt his mouth go dry. And when he first laid eyes on you in Mia’s Diner, it happened all over again. 

Why? What were you doing to him?

Jisung reached up to touch his hair, running his fingers through it; water droplets shook from the locks and fell in his eyes. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get you out of his head. The way your cheeks glowed pink when you’d ruffled his hair, the warmth of your hand brushing his skin as you pulled away shyly. 

Everything about you felt so damn familiar.

A sudden, sharp throbbing in his head sent Jisung doubling over, hands flying out and slapping against a brick wall. Not good. His skull was splitting, his vision blurring a thick, hazy red as images flashed through his mind. 

The warmth. A gentle touch. Laughter. Screaming. A cold body bleeding out at his feet--

He stumbled blindly, wandering the streets. The ground was spinning, his head was pounding, red clouding his peripheral vision. There was no way he was remembering now. All the memories, the nightmares, the thoughts, he had to burn them, rip them to pieces, stop--

“Are you okay?”

A hand shot out to grip his arm tightly, jarring him back to reality. His pupils wavered, focusing on a woman standing in front of him. She had been smoking, a silver Zippo lighter in her other hand. A red cashmere coat was draped over her lean frame, a smear of bright red lipstick coating her lips and staining the cigarette. She smiled at him -- simpered, really -- when he whipped around, staring into her eyes. 

She raised an eyebrow, taken aback. “My, aren’t you handsome?” Pocketing her lighter and flicking away the cigarette, she leaned in closer. Her long coat slipped slightly off her shoulders, revealing nothing but bare skin and lingerie underneath. “Say, would you like spend the night with me, sweetheart? You can touch me, too,” she purred. She smelled strongly of expired perfume. “I’ll make you feel real good.”

Jisung glanced at his surroundings. He had wandered off campus, he realised hazily. On the outskirts of Miroh Heights University was an area -- almost like a red-light district -- overrun with clubs, arcades and casinos; every student’s go-to party destination. But if you wandered deep enough, it was also littered with brothels, slums, and drug dens. He looked at the woman. So she was a prostitute, he thought. He must have looked drunk as shit, then; an easy client. 

If it wasn’t for the dirty feeling creeping up his skin, Jisung might have tried to leave. Her fingers were beginning to wander, lightly roaming his body. He could feel the pounding growing in his head again, blood hissing in his ears.

You can touch me, too.

I’ll make you feel real good.

Red coat. Red lipstick. Red nails digging into his forearm.

He grabbed the woman’s hand, almost too hard, making her jump. Despite every inch of his skin feeling repulsed, he plastered a smirk on his face, pulling her closer. “Lead the way, then.”

She giggled, snaking her arm around his. “Eager, aren’t we?”

She lead him away from the back of the brothel, down several winding alleyways and through run-down backstreets. The neon lights and clamour of the clubbing district faded, the buildings and streets getting smaller and narrower as they finally stopped in front of a small flat. The other buildings keeping it company looked like they might have once been bungalows or townhouses, but were either long abandoned or in line for demolition. 

The woman flashed Jisung what he supposed was a sultry smile before motioning him inside and locking the door behind them. Even in the dark, Jisung could tell the building was falling apart -- there was only one room, its walls barren and cracked, a single dirty bed in the middle of the room. A half-empty bottle of vodka sat on a table in the corner. The lights were off.

Jisung felt a smile creep onto his face. 

Easy. Too easy.

The hooker turned around, slipping her arms around his shoulders. “You’ve got a great smile, sweetheart.”

Jisung studied her carefully, letting the smile drop from his lips. “I’m glad you think so.” He leaned forward, voice ghosting the girl’s ear. “It’s so important to enjoy the last thing you see.”

Her face flashed with confusion, then horror as Jisung’s hand shot out, wrapping around her throat with a vicelike grip. Jisung felt the blood in his ears burst, the moment his skin made contact, head pounding and blurring his vision with red, red, red. The girl’s lips were frantically forming silent screams as he crushed her windpipe, backing her into the wall. Her head hit the hard surface with a crack, eyes rolling back as her fingers, which had been scrabbling at him uselessly, finally relaxed. Jisung let go, watching the body slide down the wall, a thick smear of blood trailing with it from where the skull had split open. 

Crimson blood was pouring out of the head, forming a dark pool at his feet. He was always surprised at the sheer amount bodies could hold.

Jisung wasn’t sure for how long he stood like this, waiting for the headache to ebb away, watching the body with mild interest.  Soon, the blood had soaked through his Converse and into his socks. He wiped the soles of his shoes on the red cashmere coat, which was fanned around the body like a flower in full bloom, before leaning down and fishing out the lighter the woman had slipped into the pocket earlier.

“Least favourite colour?”

“Red.”

Jisung cast a look around the room. Red. There was so much of it -- sinking into the cracks in the floor, congealing on his fingers, dripping onto his white shirt. And then there was the red coat, the red nails, red lipstick, red stiletto heels--

He snatched the bottle of vodka off the table and hurled it onto the ground, the glass shattering and alcohol splashing over the body, mixing into the blood. The stench made him dizzy. He flipped the switch on the lighter, dark pupils dilating at the flame that darted out and licked at his thumb, before flicking the lighter onto the vodka-soaked corpse.

It caught fire instantly, consuming the floorboards around it and engulfing the bedsheets. The smell of smoke and bone filled his nostrils. The pounding in his head was finally fading, his breathing smoothing out, and the ground had stopped spinning. He flexed his fingers. 

It felt good. He was back in control.

Almost subconsciously, his fingers reached up to ruffle his hair again. Without a word, Jisung slipped out into the cool night air. 

━━━━━━━━

The wail of sirens and the screech of the police radio woke Woojin up, startling him from his chair. With a groggy groan, he rubbed his face and peered at the clock. 1:25 A.M. So he’d fallen asleep at his desk. The station was dark; the other officers were off work or on patrol, he assumed. He slapped himself lightly, eyes threatening to close oncemore, as he picked up the receiver and pressed it to his ear.

“Capt. Kim Woojin speaking.”

“Sir, we’ve got a 904 in D-4, on the outskirts of Miroh Heights University; it’s a 10-54.”

Woojin sat up now, fully awake. “A fire, and a possible dead body?”

“Yes, sir. The firefighters have already extinguished the scene, and found the remains of a woman. Details surrounding the case are strange, Chief, very strange -- I sent the reports and files to your office at midnight, and was wondering if you’d gotten them.”

Woojin covered the receiver and cursed, then put it back to his ear.

“Eyewitnesses have reported seeing a figure -- likely a young man -- escaping the scene, but they aren’t sure. We may be dealing with a murderer here, or a serial arsonist.”

“Understood. Thank you, officer, I’ll see to the matter immediately. Clear.” 

Woojin hung up, spotting the pile of paperwork that had been dropped in the box outside his office. He retrieved them, flipping through and frowning. A house in flames, one woman dead. And the shadow of a young boy slipping out from the wreckage. It was suspicious, of course, but that wasn’t why he had an uncomfortable feeling in his gut. No. Something about this case seemed almost...familiar.

He shook his head, groaning. It was late; he must be losing it. Nevertheless, Woojin punched in the first number he always did the moment a case like this arose, and waited for the other end to pick up.

“Hello?”

“District 9 Precinct, Capt. Kim Woojin speaking,” the young police chief muttered into the receiver, casting a weary look at the mountain of new cases on his desk. “I need you to ring up Detective Bang, and tell him to page the homicide unit-- we have a long night ahead of us.”

[hargroves-angel]

Time Changes People / 1

Chapter 1 - These Lies You Tell Yourself

Warnings - Swearing, Smoking, Cigarettes 

You stepped out of the car. People stared. Of course they stared. This wasn’t the Y/N Eastwood that used to come to Hawkins. You were a changed girl, scrap that you were a whole new woman. Your days of pretty dresses and floral perfume were over.

That was all thanks to New York City. Once your father had been offered his new job at a high end lab facility over there, you had to leave. Your father worked so efficiently that he’d managed to get enough money to purchase the lab he worked at, along with favours from friends and colleagues.

The new school you had gone to was so different from Hawkins High. The boys were all very handsome but also assholes, the girls were pretty but much more bitchy. You also worked efficiently, learning that the only way to fit in was to get a new attitude, new closet and a new car.

That was the new you, and you didn’t hate it. You ruled that school, dated various guys and slept around a few times, you’d started smoking, something you weren’t too proud of but only when you were stressed. Everything was perfect, your current boyfriend Tom was starting to think about college and you had made a plan to move in together once school was over. But no, that was all changed. You still remember the morning.

It was last week of summer before school started again, your last year. Your brother Sean came into your room.

“Dipshit” he shouted as he banged the wall annoyingly. You groaned and threw a pillow at him.

“What?!” He threw a flat packed cardboard box into your room. “We are leaving tomorrow, hurry up and pack”

“Leaving?!” Sean nodded.

“We are going back to fucking Hawkins” He left with that delivery of news. Your blood ran cold. ‘WHAT’. Your mind raced as you ran downstairs. Your other two brothers were arguing with your dad already. Sean was smirking in the background as George and Arthur complained to your father. They were triplets all a year older than you. Unlike you, back in Hawkins they were party animals. Very popular, a lifestyle you only now started to understand.

You huffed as your father tried to explain to them that it was due to his work. It got to the point where you heard your dad scream at them. “We are leaving tomorrow there is nothing you can do about it, pack right now!” He was pissed.

Everyone went silent as you all sulked back upstairs. You immediately called Tom, he offered to come over and help pack, spend some last moments with you. It all happened so fast and before you knew it you had to say goodbye to the house you’d grown to love. You held Tom one last time, you promised to make it work, long distance plus it was only a year, he waved goodbye, your number written on his arm.

Once you’d arrived to Hawkins, you were reminded of that past you. A weaker you. You hated that memory. You were so innocent, such a goodie two shoes who wouldn’t dream of going near someone who smoked let alone date one and become one yourself. Cringing at the thought of your flouncy dresses and sensible shoes.

You drove your car into the drive way of the address your father had given you, your brothers were driving their cars whilst your father drove the moving van, he was going to buy a new car once he got here. A fresh start he called it. Bullshit.

This house was huge compared to your old house in Hawkins. The small three bedroom bungalow. Not even enough space for a dining room. It was cosy at least, not too small. This place was beautiful, with perfectly trimmed hedges, it had three floors and every bedroom had an en-suite, you bagged the top floor because in your words : “you’re the only girl in the house therefore require the most privacy”

After having unpacked your stuff, the start of Hawkins High soon dawned on you. You’d stayed inside the rest of the three days you had left here. No way where you letting anyone get a sneak peak of what was to come, obviously they wouldn’t suspect it would be you. After all Y/N Eastwood was the innocent church girl who baked cookies and hung around with Nancy Wheeler.

This now leads us onto where we are currently.

You, in the parking lot of the school, people whispering your name. Some people barely even believing it was you. Grabbing a cigarette from your denim jacket that hung loosely on your figure you took a drag from it. Smoke lacing your lungs. You took your bag from your car and locked it. The school bell rang whilst you made your way across to the school. Your heels clicking against the concrete.

It was that clicking of - Heels?- that confused Billy, he thought that you were a guy, I mean your car and your number plate, it didn’t make sense. His head moved to look at the this “Eastwood”. He felt his pants get a little tight.

He watched your ass as you strutted across the parking lot. A short, white, pleated skirt with a tight, cropped, black ,cami top that was cut into a V neck, that accentuated your cleavage. A denim jacket wrapped around you, slightly oversized. A pair of black heels heals to complete the look.

The cigarette that hung from his lips nearly fell on the ground. He watched Carol and Tina run after you, desperate.

He heard Max shuffle around and grab her bag before she muttered a ‘bye’ and left to go into school.

A hand rested on his shoulder and the familiar voice that he recognised belonging to Tommy H started to speak, “Y/N Eastwood... Shes changed a bit” he chuckled. Billy shrugged his hand off of him.

“Whatever” he muttered as he threw his cigarette on the floor and went into the school.

You walked towards your locker. Carol and Tina behind you. “Y/N Eastwood?!” They both continued to ask questions. You smirked.

“Yes it’s me, anything else you wanna know?” Carol and Tina were taken back by the attitude. They used to mock you occasionally for your kindness, but they weren’t ever cruel. Not as bad as they could’ve been.

Now, to you they were just like the girls back in New York, plastic. So fake it’s like looking at a Barbie Doll. But in your new experience you new how to deal with them, befriend but don’t trust. The only person you trusted in New York was Tom, all the other girls were snakes who only really used you for popularity.

Once you’d reached your locker you took your English book out of your bag and shoved it (the bag) in there. You held the book to your chest as Carol and Tina talked about how much they “missed you” and how all those silly words they said were such great “banter”. You smiled along with them, befriended.

The walk to your English class was fairly short, you really just wanted to escape the constant chattering in your ear about some sort of gossip.

Before you reached the door you heard someone shout your name. Tommy.

Carol ran up to Tommy and he threw his arm around her shoulders. “So when did little miss innocent become badass?” Tommy smirked as he referenced the new you.

“I got laid” you replied a smirk now on your lips.

Everyone laughed and Tommy’s mate, Dean, even patted your back. “She really is a changed woman now guys, never thought I’d hear her say such sinful words” he placed his arm around your shoulders. “How about we get out of here Y/N?” He leaned down to whisper into your ear. You grimaced and pushed his arm off of you.

“I’m down for skipping as a group, but unfortunately I’m taken, sorry boys” You sassed as Dean raised his eyebrows.

“Well he isn’t here now is he?” He tried. You rolled your eyes.

“Not happening, sorry... what was your name again” you knew his name obviously, but this was a new Y/N the girl who everyone wanted to be friends with.

Tommy let out a loud laugh at Deans frown. “Well then, I suggest we skip as group, after all Y/N is a new woman... she won’t be the little tattle tail she used to be” he took a dig at you.

Your old self would’ve been upset by a comment like that, maybe if your day wasn’t so good you’d have cried just a little bit. But you stood there, unphased, a smirk plastered on your face.

“Sure thing” You all left to go to someone’s car. He was called Billy or something, you really were forgetting some names.

You saw the car first. A nice blue camaro, beautiful car, your father used to have one similar, it was a red one, older but still cool. Then you saw the boy leaning against it. Cigarette inbetween his lips. You met eachothers gaze.

His blode curls framed his symmetrical face. He had slight stubble, which formed around his mouth, his lips were a plump pinky-red colour. But his eyes, they were gorgeous, ocean blue irises. He had a strong frame, he worked out. The glimpse you had at his chest showed that. His slightly unbuttoned shirt underneath the denim jacket. ‘Double denim’ you thought not many could pull that off, but he sure could.

He grinned at you. He’d been wanting to introduce himself since that moment he heard your heels.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach, fuck. You calmed yourself down a bit. You had a boyfriend, he’s just one of those handsome guys you see and think about for a moment, before forgetting about them later, he obviously has a reputation.

His eyes traveled lower on your body, he studied you again. You had a pretty face, no, a beautiful face with a stunning figure to match. You weren’t too tall or too short, same height as Carol meaning he could easily Dom you. You were for sure a sub, no matter how badass you looked right now he was certain he could get you whimpering his name in the sheets.

Tina noticed Billy staring at you and nudged you. “Making eyes at Hargrove already, thought you had a boyfriend?” She whispered. You took a deep breath she was right, you did.

“I do, and this Billy kid has nothing on him” you smirked as you looked elsewhere. Tommy introduced you two to eachother.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl” he bought your hand to his lips and kissed it softly. You moved it out quickly.

“Umm... thanks” you looked at the floor for a second. Thinking about how you carry yourself next. You needed to show your confidence. “So is this what you guys call fun?” You perked up. Tommy shrugged.

“What else is there to do?” Tommy quipped. You smirked.

“Why don’t we go to the mall or something?”

“Don’t have one” You took that as your queue to let someone else suggest something.

You stood and listened to everyone’s conversations. Hawkins was so boring. Nothing interesting ever happened here. No wonder you moved in the first place. You wanted to go back to New York so bad, you thought about Tom.

Whilst thinking you didn’t notice Billy move closer to you. “So then Princess, where you from, recently I mean?” You met his eyes.

“New York, the bright lights and city is so much more exciting than this shithole” you sighed. Billy smirked. You were sassy.

“True... true, then why come back?” He raised an eyebrow, your eyes hadn’t left eachother the whole time.

“Dads work, something like that” he nods his head slightly.

“Tommy says you’re different from what you used to be, what changed then?”

“That’s for me to know and you to maybe find out” You sassed.

“Ahhh So she’s a mystery girl, I find ways of solving mysteries easy but I think I’m gonna need to find out a bit more about you, for further investigation... of course” he winked at you. You smirked. “Unfortunately, Mr Reputation... I have a boyfriend” why was it so hard to say that?? The bell ringed as if on queue signaling the end of break. You waved goodbye to the group as you, Carol and Tina walked away together to your next class. Billy was shocked to say the least.

“Cat got your tongue Hargrove?” Tommy chuckled. His boys all laughed along with him. Billy rolled his eyes and went to class.

Soon enough your day had come to an end and you managed to weave your way though students who were crowded around your car one brunette caught your eye in particular. ‘Shit’ it was Nancy, your former best friend. After Barb things weren’t the same, she would call you every night but once she told you the news you two grew distant and then the phone calls stopped and you lost contact. It was shame, but you didn’t need Nancy, you had Carol and Tina now. Something you thought you’d never think.

You backed out of the space and drove home. All that was on your mind now was calling Tom.

Once you’d got home you ran upstairs. You dumped your bag on your floor and called him.

After a few rings you heard his voice. “Y/N, I cant talk right no-“ you heard some shuffling and a girls voice.

“Who’s that?” Tom took a deep breath.

“I can’t do this anymore Y/N, this long distance thing, it’s over I’m sorry” he hung up before you could even say anything.

‘That asshole, it’s only been three fucking days’... you were gonna stay together. You felt the tears coming. You hadn’t cried since you’d last been in Hawkins. You couldn’t help but let them fall. You didn’t bother to wipe them away. You couldn’t move.

He was the only person you trusted in that whole damn place and ... now he’s... you breathed in. You tried to gain composure.

You sat on your bed, looking straight at the phone that was on your wall. You wanted to break it, you wanted to tear it up, you wanted to scream. You stayed silent.

You let the tears roll down your cheeks as you let out an ugly cry and delved your head into your pillows. Your mind was all over the place... You hadn’t cried since you’d last been in Hawkins...

The words “weak” and “dumb” played through your mind. People would allways call you this because you never stood up for yourself, you never said anything if someone was horrible and most importantly you let people tread on you. So you stopped crying whenever someone said something horrible, you said something back. You stopped crying fullstop.

You brushed the tears from your face and went to the mirror in your room. ‘You can do this Y/N’ you thought. You don’t need him. All he wants is the next piece of ass out there. Like you care, a lie. You didn’t even want him anyway, another lie.

You were done with feelings, that was a fairly convincing thought but still a lie. All you needed was to calm the fuck down, shove a smile on your face and walk through those doors of Hawkins High tomorrow and act as though you couldn’t give a single shit, that’s a good plan.

You could get anyone. You were Y/N Eastwood. The new Y/N Eastwood. Who got all the boys attention, you didn’t need Toms special treatment. ‘Fuck him’ you thought. You’re over him anyway, another lie.

You took a deep breath and grabbed a cigarette from your bag. You lit it and inhaled the smoke. Your nerves calming. You hated smoking, you hated it with a passion, it smelled horrible and felt horrible too, but at the same time something about it calmed you.

All you need is a plan for when you get out of here, nothing wrong with some minor adjustments.

[emeraldwaves]

Title:  On the Shore of his Soul Pairing:  Kacchako Rating: M Word Count: 3,659 Read on Ao3 CHAPTER 1 Summary:  

Bakugou Katsuki has always enjoyed his peace and quit, away from people, living as a lighthouse keeper on a tiny island in the bay. But when a storm washes a naked girl onto his shore, his life is thrown into chaos.

Thank you to @its-love-u-asshole and @amaisenshi for reading this!

Kicking in the door, Bakugou stumbled inside of his bungalow, carrying the naked girl wrapped in his raincoat. Water pooled beneath him as he stood in the doorway, panting for a second. Where the hell was he going to put her?!

He made his way to the small living room and placed her wet body on the couch. Her soaked brown hair was plastered to her round cheeks and her lips were parted slightly, her chest rising and falling, as if she was asleep and not seconds away from drowning.

"The fuck..." he whispered. Who the hell was this girl?! Had she just decided to plop down on the beach naked and take a nap? Bakugou knew that was impossible. There were no other boats tied up on the island. She must have fallen overboard during the storm, but naked?! Maybe someone had kidnapped her and her only means of escape had been to jump overboard.

No matter her situation, he couldn't let her sit on the couch in his wet raincoat, she was going to catch a cold if she did. Making his way to one of his small linen closets, he pulled out a wool blanket, carrying it over to her.

Holding the blanket in his hands, he paused realizing his dilemma... the second he took his jacket off of her, she'd be naked... and if she woke up... she might think he was some weird perv... Fuck. What if she lost her clothes while being tossed about in the water? Unlikely... but a possibility he supposed...

Bakugou curled his fingers over the edge of his jacket. Maybe if he just yanked the thing off and tossed the blanket on, he wouldn't see shit.

He peered down at her, her face oddly peaceful for a girl who had been tossed about at sea. She was actually cute... her stupid round face and puckered, full lips.

He shook his head. Gross. He wasn't some cheap ass pervert. He adjusted his grip on his jacket, readying the blanket. Tugging it from her body, he tossed the blanket over her. It landed on top of her, thought it did cover part of her face...

It was better than the alternative.

"What a fuckin' pain..." he grumbled, moving back to hang his jacket on the coat hanger by the door. Outside, the rain was still pattering against the window, his small house rumbling with the thunder roaring through the sky.

He pursed his lips... the foghorn was still broken, but he couldn't fix it without the right parts, which meant he'd have to go back to the damn mainland the second the storm cleared. Peering out the window, he was happy to see the light from the lighthouse still rotating around, nothing changed from its routine.

The girl was fast asleep, comfortable on his couch, and Bakugou wondered if he could just... leave her there. What if she was some sort of fuckin' criminal? Or a spy? Obviously she wasn't very good at her job if she'd ended up naked on his tiny ass island.

He yawned, stretching up to the ceiling. He was fuckin' tired, especially after falling asleep at his desk again. He really needed to stop that bullshit. For now... he could sleep in his bedroom. He'd be sure to wake up early, hopefully before the mysterious girl. Then he could figure out who she was, give her some clothes, take her to the mainland to send her off.

~~

A crash awoke him the next morning. He jolted up, hearing the loud slam, as if his whole damn living room was being torn apart.

The girl.

Was she trying to make a run for it?!

He tugged open the door to his bedroom and ran out. The couch was empty, blanket gone and he growled. "Oi! Where the fuck are you, you stupid, naked-"

He paused when he saw her large brown eyes peering at him from behind the couch. The blanket was still on the top of her head and she stared at him, her eyes darting from side to side; looking from him to the doorway he had come out of.

Bakugou glared. "Who the hell are you and what the fuck are you doing on my island?"

Her head tilted to the side, confusion flickering through her brown eyes as her brow furrowed.

A new thought crossed his mind, his red eyes narrowing at her. "Can you understand me, Cheeks?"

She pushed herself up, leaning over the couch. Her breasts bounced against her chest and she nodded intensely, not saying a word.

"What the fuck?!" he snapped, holding his hand up to his eyes, not wanting to look. "Put the blanket on!" he said, peering through his fingertips. She glanced around, looking confused by what he said. Could she really understand what he was saying?

"Fuck!" he snapped, keeping his eyes closed as he stepped forward, bumping immediately into the table. "Dammit!" he cursed and lifted his shirt off, chucking it at her face. "Put that on, will you?!"

She stared at the black fabric, rubbing her hands on it curiously and Bakugou didn't understand what this girl didn't understand about a simple fuckin' shirt. "Put. It. On," he said slower. Maybe she wasn't fluent?

Reaching forward, he grabbed the shirt and yanked it over her head. She made a soft squeaking noise as her head popped through the hole. She struggled for a moment, but pushed her arms through the sleeves as well. She stared at the sleeves for a moment and began to wobble back and forth. Waving her arms, she fell forward, landing face first on the edge of the couch, her ass high in the air.

God... fucking... dammit. Did this woman have absolutely no shame?!

It was a nice ass though, round, plump, her skin smooth...

No. He had to stop thinking about perverted shit. "Fuckin'... what the hell are you doing?!" he snapped.

She whimpered, flailing her legs in the air and Bakugou tried not to look, averting his eyes away from her. She flipped over, falling to the floor with a loud thud, her brown hair splayed out on the ground, her legs spread wide, his t-shirt barely covering her lower half now.

She really needed some pants.

He stormed into his room and grabbed a pair of boxers, throwing those at her too. "Here!" he snapped. "Cover up, you fuckin' idiot!"

Pushing herself off of the ground, she sat up and stared at her legs and then turned to face him. Standing up, she wobbled again, and fell back on the couch, but this time she was able to figure out how to put the boxer shorts on, pulling them up.

Bakugou tapped his foot against the floor and angrily rubbed his forehead. "Ok. Mind telling me who the fuck you are?!"

He stared at the wide eyed girl, taking a seat on the table directly across from her. She opened her mouth, but then shut it, her eyes turning downward. It was the first time he had seen her look sad, and he decided it didn't suit her face.

She sighed, a long huff of air slipping from her lips as she folded her arms across her chest. She pouted for a moment, her brown locks brushing against both of her round cheeks. She opened her mouth again and then shut it.

She huffed again and raised her fingers to her throat, tapping on it.

He stared, wondering why she was looking at him so intensely. "You're fuckin' mute," he said.

The girl nodded slowly, sighing as she shook her head.

"Great," Bakugou snorted, rolling his eyes. "How the fuck am I supposed to get rid of you if you can't tell me where you're from?!"

She pouted again, her head moving backwards, as if she was appalled by his statement.

"Look Cheeks, this is my island. I don't know how the fuck you got here, but I live here alone and I plan to keep it that way. Where the hell did you come from?"

She pointed towards the ocean.

"Okay. Where on the ocean?"

She paused, staring off into the distance, her eyes unmoving as she looked at seemingly nothing. Bakugou glanced in the direction of her eyes, her blank stare unnerving.

"Hello? Cheeks? What the hell?" He waved his hand in front of her face, and she quickly shook her head.

"Where on the ocean did you come from?" he repeated.

This time, she shrugged her shoulders. She moved her hand through the air, illustrating her fingers falling in a downward motion. Then she flailed her hands about, as if she looked like she was drowning.

Okay, so she obviously had fallen overboard. Maybe she was dealing with trauma or something, which was why she couldn't speak.

"Fuck this is stupid. Can you write this shit out?!"

She tilted her head again, confusion rushing across her features.

He stood up and grabbed a pen from the desk in the living, snagging some paper from a notebook. He walked back over and handed it to her. She blinked, dropping the pen on the ground as she began to brush her hand over the piece of paper, her eyes widening as she rubbed it with her flat palm.

Bakugou groaned. Maybe she hit her head or some shit? He'd always heard trauma could do a lot to a person.

"Forget it, Cheeks."

He ran his hand down his face. This was already shaping up to be a disaster. Maybe someone on the mainland would know her. He'd take her to see Kirishima for sure, that red-haired idiot seemed to know everyone.

Though... he should probably go buy her clothes before letting her do a fake walk of shame throughout the small coastal town.

His stomach rumbled and he glanced down. For now, he was fucking hungry. He glanced at her and pushed himself off of the table and walked towards the small kitchen. "You must be fucking starving."

She stood up and wobbled a bit. Were her legs hurt too? He glanced down the length of her entire body; her ankles did look a bit swollen, then again, he had no frame of reference for how she normally looked. He was certain she had been tossed about the sea quite a bit, so it didn't necessarily surprise him. He sighed and pulled out some eggs and she stumbled into the kitchen, leaning against the counter. Her brown eyes were fixated on the eggs and she glanced between him and the food in front of her.

Had she never seen eggs before?

Moving forward to get a better look, she fell into him, her hands grabbing at his arm as she pressed her cheek against his shoulder.

"Oi! What the fuck are you-" He began to yell but paused when he glanced at her wide brown eyes. He growled, gripping the edge of the counter with his hands. This is why he hated being around other people. It just pissed him off. "I can't fucking make this food if you're clinging to me like this!" he snapped, his cheeks flushing.

She stared at him, her eyes blinking.

Groaning again, Bakugou ran his hand down his face. "Go sit at the damn table and I'll bring it over when I'm done."

He reached over to turn on the stove, the tiny flames flickering under the burner as they crackled to life.

She gasped, her hands loosening around his arm as she slipped behind him, staring at the stove in front of her. Her round cheeks were flushed slightly pink and her eyes watched as the flames burned, heating the stove top.

She reached forward, her fingers wiggling slightly as she hovered above the flame. Bakugou's eyes widened and he dropped the spatula to lunge for her wrist, yanking her away from the stove. Squeaking, she stumbled backwards, held up by his hand. "What the hell are you doing?! You're going to fucking burn yourself, you idiot!"

He rubbed his forehead again with his free hand and dragged her over to the table. "You sit here. I'll bring over the food when it's done, okay?!" Pulling out a chair, he pushed on her shoulders, forcing her to sit down. She landed on the chair and stared at him, glancing over at the stove.

"I don't know how hard you hit your head when you fell overboard, but fire is fuckin' dangerous," he snorted, going back to the counter. He cracked a few eggs into the small mixing bowl and began to whisk them, added some pepper to the mixture. He glanced back at her, making sure she was still sitting in the seat.

The girl's fingers were wrapped around the edge of the chair and she gently swung her legs back and forth, staring at her feet as she scuffed them against the ground. She was fucking weird, that was for sure... and Bakugou didn't know how to handle her child-like mentality.

Trauma and brain injuries could do that to people too, or so he had heard; people who hit their heads really badly would start acting as if they were a child again. Obviously, something like that had happened to her. Since she couldn't fucking speak, it was impossible to know.

The brown pieces of her hair gently draped against the side of her cheeks and they moved with the movement of her legs. She did look... cute sitting there... especially in his clothes. Like a girl he'd invited to stay the night and make breakfast for in the morning. He couldn't remember the last time he'd done anything like that.

Fuck. This wasn't the time to be thinking about shit like that. He dumped the eggs into the frying pan and from the corner of his eye he saw her jump a bit when they sizzled on the pan. Was she scared of the sound but not of fire?

Fuckin' weirdo.

After frying up some scrambled eggs, he placed half on her plate and half on his own, carrying it over to her with a fork. She probably should have some water too, since her body was most likely dehydrated. Pouring water into a glass he placed it in front of her, along with the plate of food and the fork.

She stared for a moment before leaning forward, almost pressing her nose against the glass. She tilted her head over it, closing one eyes as she looked at the water in the cup.

Bakugou sat in the chair next to her, placing his own plate down. He stabbed into some eggs, shoving them into his mouth while she continued to analyze the small cup of water. "You drink it dummy," he said.

She stared at him blankly, rubbed her hand over the side of her neck, looking nervous.

"Did you really hit your head this fuckin' bad?" he grumbled. Picking up his cup, he lifted it to his lips and tilted his head back, taking a few sips of the water.

She grabbed her own cup and did the same. After the first sip, her eyes widened and she began to gulp down the water, droplets rolling down her chin. When it was gone, she stared at the empty cup and then held it out to Bakugou.

"You can get it. Just go to the sink," he said, tilting his head to the sink behind him. She looked confused, her eyes staring at the cup. "Fuck," he grumbled and snatched the cup from her hand, getting up to fill it again. He placed it down in front of her and she smiled.

"Eat the damn food," he said, pointing to her plate.

She pouted, twisting her lips up and down. He noticed after a moment or so, she was staring at him, her eyes locked on the way he gripped his fork, raising it to his mouth to swallow.

Reaching forward, she wrapped her fingers around her own fork and slammed it down with a loud clang against the plate. A few of the eggs dropped back onto the plate as she lifted a bite into her mouth, chewing it.

She hummed, cupping her cheek and began to eat faster.

He shook his head and focused on his own meal. He'd known she was probably starving.

"I'm going to head to town and get you some actual clothes and shit. You need to lie down since you can't seem to walk properly. Once your legs heal, we can both go to the mainland and you can see if you know anyone. I'm not letting you stay here for long, okay?!" he growled, pointing his fork at her.

She leaned back, eyes wide.

"This is my home and I don't have space for a fuckin' lost girl," he said, grumbling. He stood up, grabbing both of their empty plates and placed them in the sink. "I'll leave a towel out for you so you can shower if you want while I'm gone."

Then again, would she even know what a shower was?

She tilted her head, giving him the indication that no, she didn't know what it was.

He rolled his eyes. "C'mon. I'll fuckin' show you. I don't need you stinking up my whole damn house."

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants, he made his way angrily down the hall, huffing. Behind him, he heard her stumble again as she got up, her feet gently tapping against the hardwood floor.

He stopped at the bathroom and pushed the curtain to the side. Leaning down, he turned the knob, water rushing from the spout of the tub. "See? Do you remember this shit yet? Water for a bath or shower. If you-"

Behind him, she gasped, and stumbled backwards, her back slamming against the wall. She covered her ears and shook her head, sliding down the wall. She gripped her head, letting out a few whimpers, as though she was in a great deal of pain. She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving in his shirt.

"Fuckin'..." he grumbled and quickly turned it off. Strange. Why the hell had she freaked out at the rushing water from the bath, but not the sink? "Alright," he muttered, letting out a long sigh.

This girl obviously needed help, and Bakugou did not want to be responsible for her. He was responsible for his lighthouse, that was enough.

"Forget it," he said, stomping to his room to pull on a new shirt and baggy jeans. "We'll take you to the mainland now. You need a doctor."

He reached down and wrapped his fingers around her arm, helping her to stand up. She wobbled a bit, her body adjusting to standing. She could get some clothes from the doctors and Bakugou would give up the shirt and boxers he gave her. He didn't fuckin' need them anyway.

He shoved his wallet and his keys into his pockets and opened the door. "Let's go."

She stared at the entryway, her eyes wide. Slowly, she walked out the door and stared. A large smile pulled across her face when she stared up at the sky. She looked at the grass surrounding Bakugou's house, and she stared at the lighthouse. Her eyes were drinking in all the sights, and admittedly, she looked cute while she did it.

She knelt down, her fingers reaching forward to brush over the grass. She turned and looked at Bakugou as if this was something she shouldn't be doing either.

"I don't know why you want to, but you can touch the fuckin' grass," he grumbled.

She stared at the grass, her eyes looking hazy as she did. Again, she seemed to be staring at nothing, until she reached forward. Her fingers brushed over the tips of the blades and she gasped, she moved her hand faster, laughing silently.

"Alright, enough of that shit," he said. "Let's go to the boat."

At the word boat, she froze. Her eyes staring at him nervously.

Of course. If she'd fallen overboard, the last thing she would want is to be in a damn boat.

"Look, it's fucking tiny. You'll be on it for no more than ten minutes. Then you can be on land forever."

She began to breathe heavily, her eyes turning towards the shoreline. She shook her head fast, and fell to him, pressing her face against his chest.

Groaning, he rolled his eyes. With her this close to him, his eyes scanned her head for some kind of bump or anything, but it was impossible to see with her hair. He didn’t wanna touch her either to check. "Cheeks, you need a fucking doctor. You have to go on the boat to get to the goddamn mainland."

She rubbed her face against his chest, shaking her head 'no' harder.

He sighed. This girl was going to kill him for the next few days and he was going to want to punch something out of annoyance, but he couldn't force her on to the damn boat.

He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her away from his chest. "Fine. You can stay here for a night or two," he snapped. "But I'm going to the mainland to get you some damn clothes. I need to get parts for the lighthouse too. Don't fuckin' touch shit while I'm gone! Go sit on the couch and... I dunno... take a nap or something, okay!?"

She sighed from relief, nodding quickly and he turned her around, nudging her towards the house.

"I'll be back and I swear to fuck, if anything is broken, I will kill you Cheeks!" he snapped, pulling the door to his bungalow shut after watching her stumble back to the couch.

This was turning out to be the worst storm he had experienced in a long while.

[artificialqueens]

Just the Game We're In - Chapter 11 (Ortega)

a/n: sorry.

The rain was crashing against the pavement as Willam slammed the door of the taxi and ran across the shiny wet road into the pub. Immediately the heat of all the bodies packed into the bar made her face flush red, and she began to peel her coat off as she scanned the room looking for Sharon. She spotted her tucked away in the corner inconspicuously, drinking from a bottle of beer and gazing out of the window

She’d chosen a sort of nondescript pub for them both to meet in- in Chiswick, of all places. Willam had asked her why they couldn’t go somewhere more central, but then Sharon had moped that she didn’t want to run the risk of bumping into Alaska. Willam had been about to dismiss her as ridiculous until she realised that she didn’t really want to take the chance of meeting Courtney with Andrew, so she shrugged and accepted the fact her taxi was going to cost more than it usually would to get to a night out.

Sharon caught her eye as Willam began to make her way over and her face brightened up in a way Willam hadn’t seen it do in a good couple of weeks. She felt a little guilty as to how happy she was, thinking that maybe if she’d been a better friend to Sharon then she’d be feeling a whole lot better by now. As she reached her table, Willam gave Sharon a quick hug and sat down in the seat opposite her.

“Well, you remembered makeup exists then,” she smiled by way of a compliment, Sharon laughing and raising her bottle in a toast.

“I’ll take that as a ‘you look nice’, so thank you,” the other woman said in reply, taking a drink from her bottle. She gave Willam a guilty look when she was done. “Sorry. I got you one but I drank it while I was waiting for you.”

“It’s fine, I’ll get one just now and then we can sit and chat.”

Sharon gave a happy sigh. “We can have a good old nostalgia trip!”

Willam froze a little and glared at Sharon through narrowed eyes. “We’re not here to just chat about uni.”

Sharon looked taken aback. “We don’t have to! Just thought it would be fun.”

“Well, it won’t be. So let’s not,” Willam said quickly, pulling her purse out of her bag and leaving Sharon to queue at the bar. As she stood amongst the waiting crowd however, she couldn’t help but think back to that point in her life. Uni was so long ago now, but it still felt somehow so recent, and things that had happened years previously only seemed like mere months ago. Just like the first day at uni- it was eight years ago, really almost nine, but to Willam, it seemed as if it was yesterday.

***

Willam arrived at her new halls with most (not all) of her worldly possessions in a suitcase as big as a small bungalow. She’d had to lug it onto the train then into a taxi herself but, looking around at the car park of her new accommodation, she would conclude that it was worth it. To others, the self-catered halls would seem far from idyllic- the car park was hemmed in by four concrete towers which held tiny flats, the only hint at sunlight being the huge gate that was currently unlocked and allowing cars to stream through. To Willam, however, it was as far away from home as she had applied, and she would take what she could get.  

Anything had to be better than back there.

Dragging her suitcase out of the back of the taxi and stuffing a few notes through the small gap in the pane of glass that separated driver and passenger, Willam looked around in the way someone does when they try to pretend they know what’s going on but in reality they’re as dazed and confused as they could possibly be. Looking at the other arriving freshers though, she smirked to see a similar expression on their faces- a self-confident girl in harem pants and a tan fresh from her gap year faltering as she realised she wasn’t sure how to enter her block, a boy in cuffed joggers and an Adidas hoodie chastising his parents for fussing over him but a look of fear in his eyes at being left on his own, another girl with glossy dark hair and bright makeup who seemed to be in Willam’s position in more ways than one- alone, clutching a huge holdall, and with absolutely no idea what to do. Well, thought Willam, I’m on my own, and so is she. Might as well attempt to say hi and if she’s a cunt then at least I know someone to avoid. Win win.

She made the decision and crossed the small expanse of courtyard to meet her.

“Hey. You look like you have no fucking clue what’s going on either, so I figured two heads are better than one,” she said blythely and shrugged as she reached the girl, who seemed a little taken aback that Willam was bothering to speak to her. She gave a reserved, if not relieved, smile.

“Oh shit, thank you. I don’t even know how to navigate this city, never mind the college! The letter said we need to go to the Smythe Centre for our keys but I’ve looked and looked and can’t find it at all. Maybe I’m just blind?” she joked nervously, waving the print-out map that the uni had emailed them.

Have to be to wear that outfit, Willam thought.

“Well, let’s see if Google Maps can help us out,” she shrugged instead, figuring that she should probably dial back the shade if she was to make any friends around here any time soon.

It turned out that the map the uni had given them failed to mention that the Smythe Centre was located outside of the blocks of flats, just beyond the black gate. As they walked, the girls made small talk that was a little awkward, but on the whole flowed easily. Willam found out that the girl was studying Law and that she’d moved to Uni from America. The girls also found out they were in the same block, but not the same flat. Eventually they picked up their keys and walked back to their building, Willam taking the lift up to her flat while the other girl was on the ground floor.

“Well, this is me, but I’m sure I’ll see you around. Thanks for helping a sister out,” the girl smiled warmly at Willam. Then her face contorted into one of surprise. “Oh shit I just realised- I never got your name?”

“Oh, it’s Willam. Like William but…without the extra “i”. It’s pretty stupid, but it’s my name, and I’m stuck with it.”

The other girl laughed and smiled, sticking out a laughably formal hand for her to shake. “Honey, I’m the queen of stupid names. Nice to meet you. I’m Mayhem.”

***

Willam sat down with a thud, surprising Sharon who had just been on her phone, scrolling.

“I’ve changed my mind. Uni chat might be fun. As long as we keep it lighthearted, though,” Willam said, trying to keep her voice free of emotion as she took a swig of her beer. Sharon snorted.

“I thought you were dead against it?”

“Like I said, it’ll be funny if we keep it light. Like I was just thinking about Mayhem.”

“Aw, Mayhem,” Sharon smiled and shook her head. “I wonder what she’s doing now. Christ, I haven’t spoken to her in ages. Haven’t really spoken to anyone from uni in years.”

“Yeah I can imagine your brief stint as a junkie interfered with any cosy reunions,” Willam deadpanned, earning her an unimpressed raised eyebrow from Sharon that indicated that she wanted to take offence but really couldn’t be bothered to. “To be fair, neither have I. Territory of the job, I guess.”

Sharon nodded and looked as if she was about to speak, but then Willam laughed as something occurred to her. “Alaska and Courtney were basically my friends, and now one’s gone off-grid and the other fucking hates me.”

“You’ve got me,” Sharon said, now taking slight offence. Willam tilted her head at her and frowned.

“Are we friends now?”

Sharon seemed taken-aback by the question. “I guess Alaska was all I really had too, and she was my girlfriend. I love Courtney, but I’m not really close with her, although I’d love to be. You and me, though, it’s different.”

Willam nodded. “Are we, then? Friends?”

Sharon blew into the air. “It’s your call, really. But I consider you a friend. I don’t really have anyone else.”

“Christ, what a pair of sad sacks,” Willam laughed, calming down as she looked at Sharon’s slightly expectant face. She paused, surprised she was in this position. “I mean, I guess we’re friends? Yeah. We’re friends.”

Sharon smiled easily, clinking her bottle against Willam’s own. “Cheers. To being friends.”

Willam couldn’t help but smile.

“Willam Belli, my only friend. God help me,” Sharon laughed jokingly, Willam instantly tapping the bottom of her bottle against the top of Sharon’s and causing beer to froth out the top and spill all over the table. As Sharon cried out and laughed, fumbling with some tissues in her bag to mop it up, Willam wondered how on earth she’d ended up here. It was at this point that she admitted that she couldn’t lie to herself any more. When Bianca had mentioned the name Sharon Needles to her, the picture in her mind hadn’t been a hazy remembering. It had been a thunderbolt, a complete and utter shock to the system, and there was a reason she’d been so against Sharon’s appointment.

***

Willam turned up on her first day to lectures with a hangover, a single scrap of paper that had her flat’s rules for some obscure drinking game she hadn’t quite got the hang of yet scrawled on the back, and a raging intolerance for anyone who was in the mood for making eye contact with her, never mind saying hello. She was lucky enough, however, to be blessed (or cursed) with the kind of hangover that naturally woke her up at around 6am and provided her with no ability to get back to sleep, and so she’d had enough time to shamble around the university buildings and figure out where her lectures were meant to take place. Even better, she was early enough that she could blag whatever seat she wanted, and so she was slumped over at the very back corner of a lecture theatre with raked seating, hoping that increased height and distance would stop the lecturer picking on her.

What the fuck did they think she was there to do, learn?

She watched as the other students began to arrive, all dressed in the same preppy designer clothing or working-class appropriating “chav chic” Reebok tracksuit. Looking down at the black playsuit that she’d woken up in, Willam felt out of place. She had thought she could style it out- she’d always been confident enough to before back home- but since arriving at uni her confidence wasn’t really what it used to be. The new confusing social circles of everybody trying to make friends or place themselves within the social hierarchy of being a certified “freshaaa” was almost suffocating, and Willam couldn’t really tell who out of her seven flatmates that she actually liked- she’d only ever spoken to them when they were all either drunk or hungover.

So Willam had done what Willam could do best and slept around. On the endless carousel of clubs that she and her flatmates had tried each evening, she always seemed to bring someone home, each boy more disappointing than the last but at least they filled some sort of void.

Willam looked up as people started to trickle into the lecture hall, averting her eyes from each one. She had Mayhem, the only person so far she felt she’d really connected with, and one was enough. She adopted the same sort of facial expression that kept people from approaching her when she was at school- dark, hostile, more an active bitch face than a resting one. Which is why she was confused when a girl- tall, with dyed hair that was more yellow than blonde- casually slid her way into Willam’s row. Noticing Willam’s eyes on her, she turned to face her and smiled. Willam gave a glare back, but the other girl only gave a laugh.

“Oh, okay. Not a morning person either, huh?” she offered, causing Willam to look down at the playsuit she was wearing and back at the other girl.

“Are you taking the piss?”

“No, definitely a night owl. Me too, babe, me too,” she nodded, as if Willam had even asked. Willam watched in disbelief as she lifted up a black backpack from the floor and took out an immaculate notepad and pencilcase. Looking in front of her, she instantly saw her problem.

She didn’t have a pen.

That was okay, though, Willam reasoned, as she felt an embarrassed blush hit her cheeks. She could just catch up with the lecture later in her flat and take notes then, even though she knew that was a pipe dream as she ached to sleep away her hangover as soon as the lecture was finished. Feeling watched, she looked to her side again and saw the girl looking at her.

“Can I help you?” Willam asked sarcastically, to which the other girl gave a snort of a laugh.

“Not at all. I was just wondering if I could help you, seeing as you don’t have a notebook or literally anything to write with,” she smirked, Willam cursing herself for her lack of organisation.

“I’m fine. I’ll just look over the slides at home and take notes then. I’m not going to be listening properly if I’m taking notes at the same time,” she replied, happy that she had the upper hand. The other girl frowned at her.

“As if you’re doing any more work when you get home, you’re clearly hungover to fuck!” she said, looking at Willam as if she had escaped from a psychiatric ward. “Look, just take a pen. Do you need paper?”

“No, I’ve got some,” Willam grumbled, gesturing at the crumpled mess that sat in front of her. The girl raised her eyebrows.

“Mm, I bet Ryman’s are shitting it,” she deadpanned sarcastically, Willam giving a colossal roll of her eyes as the lecture began.

***

“I fucking hated you,” Willam laughed, enjoying the trip down memory lane and remembering how incompetent she was all those years ago.

“I thought you were a fucking idiot!” Sharon exclaimed, then descended into snorts of laughter. “Who turns up to their first lecture of uni without anything to write with, and wearing a fucking playsuit?!”

Willam burst out laughing. It felt good to laugh and forget about things for a while, and not to be stressing about the future but remembering the past instead. “I don’t even think we introduced ourselves to each other that day.”

“No, it took a good three or four lectures before that happened,” Sharon smiled, her memory spot-on. “I think you dropped something with your name on it and I picked it up and handed it to you. So really I introduced you to myself.”

Willam nodded. “And then introduced yourself to me, which at the time I didn’t really give a fuck about.”

Sharon smiled. “Why did you hate me so much?”

Willam’s stomach dipped at the change in tone of the conversation. “You tried speaking to me when I was hungover, and you were that chirpy, upbeat kind of morning person that I fucking despised. I still hate people like that. Obnoxious,” Willam took a swig of her beer. “Anyway, from day one I had decided I hated you and I didn’t really go back on that ever. How come you hated me?”

Sharon blinked, confused. “I never hated you.”

“What? Yes you did!”

“I didn’t! I chose to sit beside you on that first day because I saw you and you looked like a laugh. Girl wearing a playsuit and last night’s makeup in the first lecture of uni, obviously going to be fun. How was I meant to know you were a complete bitch?” Sharon explained, laughing. “But I never hated you. I don’t know how you got that impression.”

Willam frowned, picking at the label on her bottle. She didn’t know either. Perhaps her own bad feeling towards Sharon in the early days clouded her own judgement of how Sharon had felt about her. Or maybe it was just the way she remembered it. It was weird, Willam thought, how your memories could be completely warped and changed over time. How they were affected just by thinking what you wanted to believe. It made her wonder just how differently Sharon remembered how they both met for the first time. Willam found herself hoping that she hadn’t been as massive a bitch to Sharon as she remembered.

“So when did we actually become friends?” Willam asked, frowning as she tried to work it out. Sharon screwed up her face.

“I don’t know if we ever really became friends, we just went straight into-”

“Was it not when one of your flatmates had a party? I think it was around Halloween.”

Sharon narrowed her eyes, then laughed. “That was my party!”

Willam shrugged. “Well it was at your flat at least. How come you even invited me to that anyway? I behaved like a total dick to you.”

Sharon looked awkward. “Well, because I…I did think you’d be a laugh.”

Willam eyed her suspiciously before taking another drink.

***

Willam threw her notebook and pen back into her handbag and began sliding her way across the benches of the lecture theatre, eager to get home and start getting ready. It was Tuesday, there was a great club night on at one of the new-ish bars, and she, Mayhem and both of their sets of flatmates were going to go. 5pm lectures were always the worst, exacerbated by the blonde canary that seemed to always sit beside her under the mistaken belief that they were friends. Willam couldn’t stand Sharon, always asking questions in lectures or whispering loudly to her if she didn’t understand something. Even the way she leaned forward and squinted at the powerpoint when she couldn’t quite read something instead of actually fucking wearing the glasses in her case annoyed Willam, and she hadn’t at any point concealed the fact. Which was why Willam was stunned when Sharon turned to her just as she was about to leave.

“So are you coming to my party or what?” she asked, Willam stunned at her forthright manner. The heavy eyeliner around her eyes framed a glare that appeared to be somewhat accusatory.

“Oh uh, yeah, I got your invite,” Willam shrugged, remembering the Facebook event that had popped up in her notifications which prompted her to reply if she was attending, a maybe, or couldn’t go. Willam recalls wondering if there was a “fuck off, not a single chance in hell am I going to your shit party” option, and she wondered if she should say that to Sharon to make her piss off for good, but she supposed that was a little too harsh even for her.  

“So?” Sharon smiled, upbeat and expectant and immediately draining Willam.

“Um, I don’t know. It depends where my flatmates are going, I’ll let you know,” Willam gave a reluctant smile as she made to leave. “See you later.”

She completely forgot about the party until she was getting ready with Mayhem later, the other girl having brought her makeup up to Willam’s flat so she didn’t have to get ready on her own.

“What are we doing for Halloween?” Mayhem asked out of nowhere, Willam looking up at her from her position on the floor where she was curling her hair.

“I don’t know. Probably Tornados? Maybe the union?”

Mayhem paused before replying as she swiped some clear lipgloss over her bottom lip. “Yeah, could do, or I was thinking maybe this flat party over at Tarvin’s Court? My whole flat are going and yours probably will be too.”

“Depends who’s hosting,” Willam said, hissing and scowling suddenly as she burned herself. “Although if everyone’s going I guess I’m going to have to come as well.”

“It’s a girl called Sharon Needles. She knows Mariah from my flat.”

Willam gave a groan and set her curlers down. “You’re joking, right? That’s that weird girl from my lectures.”

Mayhem raised her eyebrows. “Well, honey, that weird girl has got the most hyped Halloween party out of the rest of the flat parties that are going on, so we’re going. She could huff glue for all I care, if it’s a good party then I’m going and I’m getting wasted and you’re coming with me.”

So Saturday came, and in the days that preceded it Mayhem had managed to convince Willam that hey, maybe it would be fun after all to go to Sharon’s party. One of the cute-ish boys from her block that Willam had been eyeing up was meant to be going, and Willam wondered if she’d be able to corner him tonight. She’d bought a ridiculously revealing “Slutty Nun” outfit and new suspenders, all courtesy of Ann Summers in town- because in Willam’s view, what was the point of Halloween if you couldn’t dress like a massive whore?

Turning up to the party and walking through the already-open door, Willam was slightly thrown at how busy it was already. Grudgingly she admitted that it did seem like a good party, and she tottered through the door in her heels, the half-bottle of vodka she’d already downed at her flat’s predrinks making her a little unsteady on her feet. Weaving her way through the crowd, she quickly found the boy in question and struck up a conversation. In her drunken haze, Willam was happy. He seemed interested, and he definitely liked her outfit. She felt as if things were going to go somewhere. Suddenly needing to pee, she pushed her drink into his hand with an instruction to hold it and made her way to the toilet. Amazingly, there was no queue and she stumbled into the tiny cubicle-like room.

She was just about to sit down when someone else barged in through the door which she’d obviously forgotten to lock.

“What the fuck? Get out of here, bitch,” Willam slurred, pulling some hair out of her face which was tricky with the habit on. Leaning against the wall she was shocked to see Sharon in the cubicle with her, dressed as a devil with a red feather boa draped around her neck. She was looking at Willam with wide eyes.

“Hey. That’s, um. A costume,” Sharon stammered, Willam feeling a little funny under her gaze.

“Yeah, it is. Now can you piss off so I can pee?”

Sharon shook her head, her gaze switching into something that conveyed a sense of urgency. “That guy you were talking to spiked your drink.”

Willam blinked slowly, her mind processing everything at 0.5% speed. “What do you mean, spiked it?”

Sharon frowned. “How can I make that any clearer? He put something in your drink.”

Willam rolled her eyes, annoyed at Sharon’s mothering. “Well I hope it’s good shit, getting fucked up is the aim.”

Sharon gave an agitated sigh. “Willam, this is serious, he’s going to take advantage of you.”

“How do you even know what…how do you even know he’s doing?” Willam slurred out, acutely aware of the fact she wasn’t making sense.

“I saw him! When you were talking. You looked away and he put a pill in it. I tried to tell you sooner but I couldn’t get through the crowd, I’m sorry,” Sharon explained quickly, her expression concerned. “Are you feeling alright?”

Willam narrowed her eyes at Sharon. “Why were you watching me?”

“What?” Sharon asked, taken-aback.

“You’re at a party, why were you watching me?” Willam found herself asking, although she wasn’t really sure why. She continued on in a sort of ramble. “You don’t just watch people at a party, you don’t just stand and watch…it’s not a cinema, you don’t watch people…”

“Well, I don’t know, I guess I was staring into space and saw you both,” Sharon explained, her cheeks a little red. “Are you feeling okay? I told my flatmates to chuck him out.”

Willam suddenly felt as if she had to sit down. She sunk onto the toilet seat. “I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

“Christ, Willam, you had at least three drinks out of your cup after he put that pill in, I’m not leaving you,” Sharon hissed, exasperated. Willam watched as the other girl bent down and took her face in her hands, kneeling between Willam’s legs which were splayed open. “Are you seeing things clearly?”

Sharon’s face seemed a little blurry. It was probably nothing, though. Willam nodded. The seat she was sitting on suddenly seemed very unsteady. A gradual sense of dread began to creep over Willam that she couldn’t really explain, and all of a sudden the party seemed incredibly scary and full of the unknown. Sharon seemed to be the only thing that was safe.

“I want to go home,” Willam found herself slurring in a small voice.

“Are you sure? You can stay here if you want, my room is quiet,” Sharon offered, her face full of concern and making Willam feel as if maybe she didn’t have anything to be afraid of. Still, her own bed seemed safer than a bed in a flat with a party going on, where anyone could walk in. Willam shook her head, which felt as if it was full of cement. “Right. I’ll go get Mayhem, she lives with you, right?”

Willam tugged on Sharon’s arm as she made to leave. “Can you stay?”

Sharon nodded immediately. “Have you got your phone? I’ll call her.”

Willam reached into her bra and produced her phone, which Sharon started scrolling away at instantly. She began to phone Mayhem who somehow miraculously answered. As Willam felt suddenly tired, she heard snippets of the conversation as she slipped in and out of a doze.

“…so you can’t get in? Okay, but could she stay at yours?…Perfect, thanks. Sorry about this,” Sharon signed off, putting the phone down on the floor as she straightened Willam up on the seat and took her head in her hands again, tapping it gently. “Willam? Mayhem’s coming, okay? She’s just outside smoking, she’s coming up and she’ll take you home. I didn’t realise she wasn’t your flatmate, but she said you can stay with her, okay? Don’t worry, Willam, you’re safe.”

That was the last thing she heard and Sharon’s face was the last thing Willam saw before she passed out, and even though Willam was terrified and didn’t know what the fuck was happening to her, Sharon’s words were a comfort.

Maybe she would be alright.

***

Willam found herself shivering a little as she recalled the memory of that night, Sharon’s face taking on that concerned look again from across the table.

“Yeah…wasn’t the most amazing party I’d ever been to,” Willam said awkwardly, peeling at the label on her bottle.

“I remember seeing that guy at a party in like final year and punching him in the face,” Sharon smirked fondly at the memory. “I must have been jacked up on so much shit that night, I would never have had the balls to otherwise. But I’m glad I did it.”

There was a small silence as Willam remembered feeling so small and so scared.

“That was a bitch of a hangover the next day,” Willam laughed bitterly, attempting to make the mood lighter. Sharon frowned.

“You kept apologising to me in lectures on the Monday, as if any of it was your fault,” she shook her head, the memory clearly paining her.

“Well, it was the only time you’d ever get an apology from me. You should have savoured it,” Willam brushed off her concern and took another drink. “Anyway, that was definitely when I started tolerating you. Couldn’t have let you save me like that and kept being a cunt to you.”

Sharon smiled warmly, laughing a little. “I still remember-”

She stopped abruptly, her eyes darting about a bit in panic before she took a swig from her own bottle. Willam was amused.

“What?”

Sharon picked at the label on her bottle. “Nothing it’s just. It was a good costume.”

Willam snorted a little and bit her lip to keep from responding. She still remembered how blown Sharon’s pupils had become when she’d seen what Willam had looked like and the way her mouth had dropped open a little bit. Her pulse thudded beneath her skin. She took another drink and found that she’d reached the end of her second bottle. Sharon’s eyes darted to the empty bottle and she stood up.

“I’ll get them in. Same again?” she offered, Willam only nodding and not trusting herself to speak.

She remembered everything that came after the Halloween party. The lectures that followed where she and Sharon had got closer and Willam had warmed up to her a bit, how they both laughed together until Willam felt that her ribs would break at this one lecturer that came in wearing an obvious toupee. She remembers no longer feeling annoyed by anything Sharon did, and instead feeling glad that she would ask the questions she was too afraid to, or smile when Sharon would squint at the powerpoint and refuse to wear her glasses, or even feeling an inexplicable sense of joy when Sharon leaned in to whisper something to her. At the time, Willam remembers feeling confused about how her feelings had changed, explaining it all away by thinking she was just making a friend in Sharon at last. Willam swallowed roughly.

If fucking only. It would have made my life a whole lot easier.

***  

It was just before the Christmas break- exam season. Willam was nervous. They were the first exams of her degree and she was determined to do well in them, if only so she could prove to her Mum that her degree wasn’t too hard for her and that she was, in fact, suited to it. And it was true, she was doing well- she understood her lectures, she participated well in tutorials- but there was one module that really fucked with her, and she found it incredibly difficult. Luckily, Sharon seemed to get it with no problem.

“I can come over and help you with it, if you want?” she had offered earlier when they were in a tutorial. Willam had accepted, happy that she was getting to spend more time with Sharon, and so they had walked back from lectures together to Willam’s flat in the freezing cold, Willam shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her faux-fur coat and hoping her flatmates had switched the heating on. Miraculously they had, and as soon as they arrived at Willam’s flat Willam threw herself down onto her uncomfortable uni halls bed and moaned that she didn’t want to revise, that her and Sharon should just get drunk and watch It’s Always Sunny instead, and Sharon had laughed and pulled her up into a sitting position and told her that they’d be done before they knew it.

They had started to revise with good intentions, Willam concentrating and actually learning something from what Sharon was saying. But soon enough, Willam found herself beginning to lose focus as the heat of the room prompted Sharon to take off the huge jumper that she’d been wearing, leaving her in a strappy black top and her red leather skirt. Willam couldn’t tell why she was suddenly distracted by everything Sharon did. Every time she would push her long, thick hair out of her face, or push her glasses up her nose, or bite down on the pen she was using, Willam had to narrow her eyes and blink a couple of times to re-gain concentration. She didn’t know why Sharon was doing this, and it was beginning to piss her off.

It was only when Sharon leant forward slightly and crossed her legs that Willam couldn’t stop herself from blurting out.

“Okay, Sharon, what the fuck?!”

Sharon was startled and dropped the pen she was holding. “What?”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Willam shook her head, her eyes tightly squeezed shut. When she opened them, Sharon was still there, only staring at her as if she was insane.

“I’m not doing anything! What are you talking about?” Sharon snapped, irritated. “You’re behaving like a total idiot, you’ve not been focussed for the past fifteen minutes at all!”

Why was this feeling not going away? Willam frowned deeply. “Sorry.”

“Right,” Sharon calmed down, looking at Willam in confusion again. “Okay, so see this diagram? This is showing circular- oh, hang on, you can’t see that from there.”

To Willam’s dismay, Sharon shuffled closer to her so that she was sitting right in front of her. If Willam leant forward, their faces would be only centimetres apart. As Sharon continued explaining, Willam finally realised what she was feeling. It was the same fluttery feeling she’d get when she was talking to a guy when she was out, knowing that she was going to go home with him when the night was over. Except she wasn’t out and this wasn’t a boy, it was Sharon, a girl from her lectures, and she was feeling this way about her. Why was Willam apprehensive? She was never this nervous with any of the guys she’d hooked up with before. So why was Sharon different because she was a girl? Fuck it, thought Willam. She might as well.

“So at the top is the, um, households,” Sharon said, her eyes darting to Willam who was looking at Sharon and trying to figure out if she had the balls to actually do what she was thinking about doing. “And, um, they spend money on goods, which go to firms. And the firms then provide the incomes, which provide, um. Which provide…”

Sharon trailed off as Willam leant forward, placing a hand on her thigh. “Willam, what are you-”

Without thinking any more about it, Willam closed the gap between them, placing her other hand on Sharon’s jaw and kissing her. She didn’t expect the kiss to be as heavy as it was, and before she knew it Willam had her tongue in Sharon’s mouth. Sharon tasted of cigarettes, and Willam absent-mindedly wondered why she’d never seen her smoking before, but it didn’t matter because her perfume was all Willam could smell, and it was fucking incredible. She realised that Sharon had rested one of her hands on her waist, with the other buried deep in her hair. The kiss was deep and Willam could feel her lips becoming swollen, and she found herself wishing that Sharon would trail one of her hands down underneath Willam’s top and take it off, so she pushed two of her own fingers under Sharon’s skirt, her heart feeling as if it was beating at an unhealthy rate as she willed everything to go further, and just as she felt that she was about to burst Sharon pulled away. Willam opened her eyes and saw her in front of her again, breathing heavily with her eyes wide. Sharon spoke first.

“Um. Okay. Where did that come from?” she asked, Willam a little nervous and wondering how she had felt about everything that had happened.

“I just…” Willam started, her heart still beating too fast and her eyes unable to look away from Sharon’s face. “Um. I don’t really know?”

To her relief, Sharon let out a laugh. For a second, Willam wondered if it was meant to be mocking. “Sorry, you probably didn’t-”

“Don’t be sorry. I liked it,” Sharon laughed breathlessly. She looked momentarily as if she was about to lean in and kiss Willam again until she looked up at the clock on Willam’s wall. “Shit. I have to be at my tutor meeting in ten minutes. I need to rush off.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Willam blinked, a little thrown. “I’ll, um. I’ll see you for the exam, yeah?”

“See you then,” Sharon smiled apologetically, pulling her jacket on and rushing out of the door.

She didn’t realise she’d left her jumper and, like an idiot, Willam picked it up from its position on the floor and held it close to her, her head spinning and leaving her dizzy.

***

Sharon returned from the bar with four beers as opposed to the promised two, but that was alright with Willam. Fuck knows she’d need it, the way things were turning out. As Sharon sat down, she smiled apologetically.

“I thought two each, save us having to queue at the bar again,” she shrugged, tipping her head back as she drank some of her third bottle. Willam smiled tightly, not speaking just yet. Sharon looked at her inquisitively.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re thinking about something, I know that much,” Sharon gave a look of disbelief, and Willam sighed deeply.

“I’m thinking that Andrew cunting Brady will probably be balls deep in Courtney right now and that I’ve completely fucked the one chance I got to be with her. Happy?” she reeled off, giving Sharon an irritated glare and swigging her beer back, slamming it down on the table with a thud. Sharon only widened her eyes in amusement, then her gaze softened.

“You haven’t fucked it. She still likes you, I can see it,” Sharon smiled, Willam letting out a tut of indignation.

“Your eyesight’s even more shit than I thought. She hates me.”

Sharon took another sip, a thoughtful look on her face. “Have you actually told her how she makes you feel? From my memory you’ve never really been too good at admitting things to people.”

Something snapped inside of Willam like a match to petrol. “Don’t you fucking dare. We both know what happened when I tried that the first time, and from what I remember I wasn’t the fucking problem.”

Sharon winced, a small silence descending for a moment. “I’m sorry, Willam.”

“Whatever. Let’s just keep drinking,” Willam rolled her eyes, too tired to argue or push the situation further

As she took another long drink, Willam remembered what Sharon had been referring to. It hadn’t been the moment Willam was thinking of- it was another, after Christmas, when they were both still in their first year, and Sharon was right. Willam hadn’t been really big on talking. Then again, neither of them had.

***

Willam fucking hated Christmas.

She wanted desperately to look forward to it like other people, normal people, to be excited by it and celebrate it like the families in Christmas movies. Willam remembers watching Elf as a child, wishing that she had a magical long-lost-elf brother who would come and bring her family together and there wouldn’t be any more fighting and tension and her parents would be happy together.

But she didn’t, and her family was dysfunctional to a ridiculous degree, so Willam’s first uni Christmas contained terse conversation with her Mum about how no, there were actually lots of girls on her course and no, politics wasn’t just for guys, and yes, she was coping fine with the work and no, she was sure she didn’t want to drop out. Her Dad, disconnected from her as always, would continue his aggressive, tense comments to her and her Mum and, like a moth with anger management issues to a flame, her Mum constantly bickered and fought with him and broke down afterwards, Willam having to pick up the pieces.

So her Christmas holidays were dire, and they weren’t helped by her sitting and replaying the moment she’d shared with Sharon weeks before over and over again in her mind. She’d seen her once after that, at the exam, and afterwards she’d practically bolted out of the building, too afraid to face her. That was the last time she’d seen Sharon. She wondered how the other girl was doing and what she was feeling or thinking, but realised that she was probably enjoying herself too much celebrating Christmas with her family to even think about Willam.

New Year passed and she thought about sending Sharon a text, something, anything to let her know that she was thinking about her, but every time she stopped herself. If Sharon didn’t actually give a fuck about her, Willam was damn sure she wasn’t letting her know that she cared about her either. So time went on, and at last Willam finally went back to uni, away from the tension and tears and noise and unhappy silence of her family and back to the hilarity of her block. As Willam stepped through the door of her room she could feel herself instantly relax, her shoulders slumping in relief. She unpacked the gifts she’d been given at Christmas and said hello to her flatmates, then bolted downstairs to see if Mayhem was back.

As she wandered down to the other flat, though, she couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Now that she was back at uni she was back in the same place Sharon was, and so she could bump into her anywhere- fuck, lectures only started in a couple of days. She had to figure out what she was going to do before she saw Sharon again.

It turned out she had less time than she thought she would as, when Willam found Mayhem and they hugged and caught up with each other, she found that she was hosting a party that evening.

“I know that it won’t be huge since not everybody is back yet, but there’ll still be a good turnout- Rhea, Jackie, Mariah, Asia, Sharon-”

“Oh fuck,” Willam’s heart plummeted. “May, I can’t go.”

“The fuck are you talking about? What…” Mayhem then did a sort of double-take, narrowing her eyes at Willam. “Has something happened with you two?”

Willam tore her hand through her hair. “We got with each other in my flat before Christmas.”

“Willam! Holy fucking shit! How?!” Mayhem screeched, Willam frantically shushing her in case her other flatmates heard.

“I don’t know, we were just revising…we weren’t even drunk, fuck, and now I don’t even know how to react with her. We haven’t even spoken since.”

Mayhem hadn’t stopped smiling since Willam had told her. “I mean, do you like her?”

Willam made a face. “I don’t know? Like, she’s cute? I’d never thought about her like that until she was in my room, it was insane. I don’t know, though. I don’t know if I want to see her again yet.”

“Well,” Mayhem suggested, her face scheming, “Come tonight. See how she is with you. And then see what happens.”

So Willam spent the next five hours til the party exfoliating, fake-tanning, and wondering what the hell she would say to Sharon if she saw her. Maybe she wasn’t going to see her- maybe she wouldn’t come after all, but then Willam found herself hoping that she would be there for some unknown reason.

The party arrived and so did Willam, dressed in a deliberately short and strappy blue dress and towering gold heels. If Sharon was at the party, she wanted to look good. It had only been around five minutes before Willam saw her from across the room- skintight black jeans and a ripped band t shirt that seemed to be an accessory for a plain black bra. Her heart ricocheted off her ribcage as Sharon made eye contact with her. Panicking, Willam decided to pretend that she hadn’t noticed her and instead skulked off to the kitchen.

The night went by in a somewhat similar vein- Willam would somehow find herself looking Sharon’s way, then having to look back and pretend she hadn’t seen her. She didn’t know why she was avoiding Sharon like a child playing a game of peek-a-boo, but it seemed easier than going over to talk to her.

Except finally, as the night was reaching its peak, Willam had no choice but to speak to Sharon. Someone had told her that there were some spare cans of Red Bull in a box room down the hall, and Willam had wanted to make Jaegerbombs, so she’d gone in to get some. As she turned to leave, however, someone was standing in the doorframe. Sharon.

“Oh. Hey,” Willam slurred, awkwardly looking anywhere but at the face in front of her. “How are things?”

“Yeah, they’re good,” Sharon smirked, rolling her eyes. “Apart from the fact that the only way I’ve managed to speak to you tonight is basically cornering you in a fucking cupboard. Willam, what’s going on? You’ve just totally avoided me.”

Willam felt surprised at how eloquent Sharon was being, then drunkenly remembered that they were both quite drunk and to a sober person everything would have probably seemed like gobbledygook. Blinking, she shook her head. “I just didn’t, um. I didn’t think we had to talk? You know…what happened happened and…there’s no point in talking about it, I guess.”

Sharon blinked then smiled slowly, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind her. The darkness suddenly closed in around them, and the only light was three long strips of yellow from the hallway outside. Willam suddenly felt her heartbeat in her ears, her pulse hot under her skin as Sharon took a small strand of her hair and tucked it behind her ear, the tiny amount of contact making Willam’s breath hitch in her throat. She was pissed off- she, the girl who could manipulate any boy to do anything she wanted, the girl who didn’t call anyone back and slept with people without forming any attachment was completely and utterly under a spell, and she could feel herself melting as Sharon’s hands found her hips and pulled Willam in close.

“Well…we don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”  

WIllam didn’t know who initiated it, but suddenly their lips crashed together, both pairs of hands touching and trying to rip off any clothing that stood in the way of bare skin. Teeth grazed at necks, fingers tore their way through two sets of blonde hair, and Willam had never felt more completely and utterly torn apart and yet so put together all at once.

It was only when Sharon’s fingers had found their way under Willam’s dress and were inching up her thigh that Willam stopped, pulled away, and looked with distaste at the carpet on the floor.

“I live upstairs,” was the only thing she said, looking at Sharon’s huge, blown pupils before the other girl grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the box room and out of the flat.

***

“Willam?”

Willam slowly turned her head from its position looking out of the window and staring into space, and forced herself to look at Sharon. All of a sudden her eyes seemed far too intense and familiar, and Willam swallowed roughly and crossed her legs.

“We should stop talking about uni.”

Sharon looked at her suspiciously. Her eyes had that sort of glazed look, and Willam knew instantly that she’d had one too many drinks- but then, perhaps, so had she. “What? Why?”

Willam shifted in her seat. Realisation suddenly dawned on Sharon, and she let out a cry followed by a yelp of laughter.

“Oh my God,” she screeched, before her voice dropped to a whisper as she leant across the table, her eyes lighting up excitedly. “You were thinking about me and you, weren’t you? The sex we had…oh my God, you were, weren’t you?!”

“Shut up, no I wasn’t,” Willam put her head in her hands, angry that she’d been called out.

“Yes you were. You always do that little wiggle in your seat when you’re thinking about dirty things. It was how I used to know we had to leave a party.”

“Let’s not do this,” Willam rolled her eyes and tipped her head back.

“It was kinda awkward having to watch you do it when Courtney came into work in that pink pencil skirt a few weeks back, though. No class.”

Willam narrowed her eyes and sat forward. “Well if we’re playing this game, I wasn’t the one who suggested fucking in your flat kitchen after St Patrick’s day that time, was I? Classless bitch.”

Sharon laughed unashamedly. “No, but I don’t remember you having any complaints at the time. Wait! That’s a lie. Your complaints went more like uh, harder, uh, faster, oh fuck!”

Willam launched herself across the table and walloped Sharon on the arm as the other woman laughed. She could feel her cheeks were bright red, but she supposed that the more they were speaking about the whole situation the less awkward it became. There was a small silence as Sharon’s laughter died down.

“Did you ever actually get a chance to sleep with Courtney?” Sharon asked, out of the blue. Willam snorted.

“A lady never kisses and tells.”

“Well, A, you’re not a lady and B, you do kiss and tell, so give me the chat,” Sharon said, sitting attentive and patient.

“No, we didn’t. Happy?”

Sharon blinked, taken aback. Willam took a drink from her bottle and scowled at her.

“Surprised?”

“Yeah, actually. It’s you, you know? I guess I thought that would have all happened after the first date,” Sharon shrugged, taking a drink herself. Willam felt a flame of anger flaring momentarily inside her.

“Well maybe if-” she shut herself up. Keeping herself calm, she reminded herself that she probably shouldn’t say anything she would regret. Sharon seemed to sense that wish too, and she didn’t push it any more.

She could think it, though. The thing she’d wanted to say, and on reflection it would have sounded a bit pathetic out loud. Instead, Willam dwelled on it from the privacy of her own head.

***

The sex she had with Sharon was unlike anything Willam had ever experienced before. Whenever they were together she felt as if fireworks were exploding in her heart, as if it was about to burst or break. Her breath came so fast she sometimes felt she might suffocate. Every moment of every time seemed unreal to Willam.

But it was real, and it kept happening. She didn’t quite know how. It started off with the parties they went to- eventually the lights would come on and they would wind down, and Sharon would simply look at Willam and they’d both know how the night was going to end. Then it progressed into something that happened when neither of them were drunk, when Willam would be about to get ready for bed and her phone would go off with a text, or she’d send one to Sharon. Eventually it would just happen unexpectedly- Sharon would be studying at Willam’s, or just having pizza at her flat, and one thing would lead to another.

Willam didn’t mind. She’d been amazed at how completely not awkward the two of them had been about it- they were sleeping with each other, they made each other feel good, they both found the other incredibly sexy, and that was that. She didn’t really know what they were, but that was okay, maybe she didn’t really need to. Summer came and uni finished for her first year and she’d wondered if everything would stop and if Sharon would forget about her but instead they would call each other, whispered phone calls late at night as Willam bit her lip and forced herself not to be too loud and have her parents hear as she came undone in her bed. When they came back after the summer, their routine fell back into place again, and before Willam knew it she’d been sleeping with Sharon for eight months without even noticing how quickly the time had passed.

She didn’t really know how she felt about Sharon. She’d never felt this way about anyone before, perhaps that was why she found it difficult. She was still friends with her, that was why they hung out together and did things just the two of them when they weren’t fucking each other. Was that what girlfriends did? Probably, but they weren’t that, Willam reassured herself. It wasn’t as if she was in love with Sharon. Or was she? She didn’t really know what that sort of thing felt like. All she knew was that when she spent time with Sharon she felt calm but also so constantly excited, and whenever Willam said something that made her smile and show the little gap between her teeth Willam would want to hold onto her and not let go.

They were together in bed one day, naked and curled up in each other’s arms, and they were watching something- Willam can’t remember what. She turned to Sharon, watching the images from the laptop flicker against her glasses, and noticing how intently her blue eyes gazed at everything.

“Have you ever slept with someone else?” she asked Sharon. Surprised, Sharon blinked then laughed.

“Do I really fuck like a virgin? That’s embarrassing. You’ve embarrassed me,” she shook her head, laughing into the duvet. Willam frowned.

“Shut up you dumb bitch, no, I meant like…since me. Since May’s party. Have you?”

Sharon blinked again, suddenly looking awkward. “I mean, no. Have you?”

“No,” Willam replied instantly, unable to tear her gaze away from Sharon’s eyes.

“I mean, we could if we wanted to, right?” Sharon asked, her voice holding something that Willam couldn’t quite decipher. A plea for reassurance?

“Oh, Christ, yeah,” Willam nodded curtly, giving the answer that part of her didn’t want to give. It was worth it though for Sharon to smile at her, giving her a kiss on the cheek and turning her head to face the laptop again.

***

They had been sat in silence for a small while.

“How are things at home?” Sharon asked, her brow furrowing. Willam sighed heavily.

“Oh, fuck me. I’m going home,” she shook her head, despite not making any movement that indicated she was leaving.

“No, don’t. I’m sorry, that was shitty of me. I just wondered if things were still…how they were.”

“Yes, my parents still take every chance they get to mock and belittle my sexuality, thanks for asking, Sharon,” Willam stared coldly at Sharon, who for her part looked uncomfortable.

“So no better then.”

“No.”

Sharon heaved a sigh. “That fucking sucks, Will, I’m sorry. I just would have thought after eight years they might have been more accepting.”

Willam snorted a sardonic laugh. “Yeah, well. I guess if someone’s really set on the fact that bisexuality doesn’t exist then they’re not going to have their minds changed.”

Sharon shrugged. “Despite the fact you’re the evidence.”

“Despite the fact I’m the evidence. I should get Courtney to fuck both of them, then they’ll see,” she joked darkly, being bitterly reminded of the fact that Courtney was no longer her friend. Sharon laughed and Willam relaxed a little, glad that the ice was beginning to re-break.

“Do you ever think-” Sharon began, then cut herself off. Willam narrowed her eyes at her.

“What.”

“Nothing. I had a thought, and then I thought you’d yell at me if I told you it, so it’s nothing.”

Willam rolled her eyes. “We’ve already talked about the time we fucked on a dirty kitchen table, I think in the words of Yazz, the only way is up.”

Sharon picked at a bit of candle wax on the table with the lid of her beer bottle. “Do you ever think the reason you’re so eager to please Bianca and the reason you look for her approval all the time is because you’re trying to replace the mother figure in your life?”

Willam looked at Sharon in disbelief. “What the fuck. You’ve outdone yourself now, what the fuck is that pseudo-therapist bullshit?”

Sharon gave a calm smile. “Well I have been to many hours of therapy so some of it’s eventually going to rub off.”

Willam couldn’t tell if she was completely enraged or if Sharon was actually on to something. She shook her head. “You’re being ridiculous. Bianca’s my boss, of course I want to get her approval. It’s the only way I’m going to get anywhere in this job.”

“I think you’re forgetting that I’m your boss,” Sharon frowned, sipping her drink. Was this her fourth? Had to be. “Are you not happy with where you are now?”

“I want to be in Number 10. That’s the dream. That’s always been the dream.”

Sharon raised her eyebrows. “There’s more to life than politics, Willam.”

Willam sighed heavily and brushed some hair out of her face. She thought about what Sharon had said. “I’m at peace with the fact my parents are complete arseholes. I’m not trying to replace them, okay?”

Sharon nodded. “Okay.”

Willam looked down at the table, her head full of too many thoughts. Maybe Sharon was on to something. The very fact that Willam had wanted to distance herself from Courtney was to make sure that she didn’t go down in Bianca’s estimation. She couldn’t have handled it if Bianca had reacted to her and Courtney like her Mum had to her and Sharon. Shivering, Willam inwardly shrugged as she took another drink. It was probably for the best that Courtney wasn’t with her any more. The thought of having to introduce her to her parents made her want to jump in front of a car.

Sharon laughed. “Remember that time we gave Rhea a ProPlus and we pretended it was Mandy?”

As Willam worked up a fake laugh, she couldn’t help but replay another memory, one that she really didn’t want to relive.

***

“So, darling. Any boyfriends on the horizon? Any lovely handsome uni boys?”

Willam gave a swallow. Here it was- the question she knew she’d be asked, the question she’d vowed to be honest in answering. Christmas was a time for being truthful and admitting things and potentially tearing her family apart. If she’d learnt anything from Eastenders, she’d learnt that.

“Well actually I’ve been, um. I’ve been seeing someone,” she said tentatively, her heart breaking as she saw her Mum’s face light up.

“Oh, darling! That’s amazing, I’m so happy for you. What’s his name?”

Willam picked hard at a bit of skin on her thumb. “It’s Sharon.”

She watched, almost as if she was watching a movie, frozen to the sofa as she saw the cogs turning in her Mum’s head, then the penny finally dropping as her words caught in her throat and her eyes grew slightly wider. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Her Mum took a deep breath. “So you’re a lesbian.”

Willam’s stomach had never been so tense. “No, I…I still like boys, just I like girls as well. I’m bi.”

Her Mum screwed up her face, then barked a laugh. Willam’s stomach spasmed. “No that’s not…Willam. That’s not a real thing.”

Willam took a deep breath. “No, Mum, it is. Honestly it’s just…how I feel. Well, it’s more than that, it’s who I am.”

Willam watched in despair as her Mum tensed up, drinking a gulp from the glass of wine she’d been re-filling for hours that day. “No, Willam. I’m sorry. That doesn’t exist. You’re either one or the other. You can’t be both.”

“You can’t-” Willam started, frustration suddenly bubbling up inside her before she caught herself. She knew how things would escalate if she rose to her Mum’s bait, and she’d rather spend the evening having to comfort herself than mopping up the tears of an alcoholic’s nervous breakdown. “Look I know that it’s hard for you to accept-”

“Don’t call me unaccepting, Willam, because I’m not. You’re trying to make out that I’m homophobic and it’s not true,” her Mum bristled, the knot in Willam’s stomach worsening. Oh Christ, please don’t kick off, please don’t kick off…

“Sorry, I’m not trying to say that. I mis-spoke. I’m sorry,” Willam said, forcing herself to make her voice soft, quiet, comforting. “Obviously we don’t agree, but I’m bi. And I’m seeing Sharon.”

“See, you’re seeing her. That’s not a commitment. You’re just pretending, it’s just a phase. You can’t seriously be telling me I’m never going to have any grandchildren?” Willam’s Mum twisted the knife, her cold, matter-of-fact tone making Willam want to burst her lungs just screaming at her, begging her to listen just for once, to just once not make everything about her.

“Well she’s my girlfriend. I’m not pretending, Mum, I-” Willam stopped. She’d embellished the truth a little- Sharon wasn’t her girlfriend, they’d never breached the topic, but they were together in all but the title. And she was about to say the other thing, the thing she’d long been considering and thinking but never had the courage to say to Sharon herself. “I love her, Mum.”

Willam’s Mum snorted, swirling her wine around in her glass. “Well I’m glad you love her, because you certainly don’t love me.”

With that, she got up from the sofa and flounced out of the room, Willam sighing deeply. The knot in her stomach was sore and painful, and she tucked her legs up and hugged them close to her chest, looking at the Christmas tree lights in her living room through blurry eyes.

***

Willam suddenly stood up, cutting Sharon off halfway through her story. She didn’t really know what she had been talking about, too lost in thought. All she knew was that she had to get outside for some fresh air and, primarily, a smoke. Everything was too much, and in that moment she needed a break.

“I’m going for a cigarette,” she explained, before grabbing her twelve pack from her coat pocket and heading outside. The air was balmy in the way it sometimes was in the transitional period between Spring and Summer, and Willam knew she’d be safe without a coat- although she couldn’t help wishing for some cold, some sharp air to hit her face and sober her up a bit.

As soon as she was out the door she was lighting up with shaky hands, and of course, of fucking course, Sharon had followed her.

“Willam.”

Willam blinked once, twice, three times, four times, until the unexpected tears that had appeared in her eyes had gone. She sniffed and watched as a blonde girl and a dark-haired man with a beard shambled drunkenly across the street. She’d thought it could have been Courtney, but the more she looked the less it looked like her.

“Willam, what’s wrong.”

Sharon’s voice was soft and all too familiar, and Willam hated herself for agreeing to go on this night out. There were so many memories she’d not properly confronted, so much she’d blocked out for years and years, and talking about it all was only bringing those memories to the fore, forcing her to acknowledge them. Willam took a deep breath.

“I’m fine.”

Sharon frowned and shook her head. “You’re not. You can tell me. What’s the matter?”

Willam looked to the sky. If she kept staring at Sharon any longer then she’d cry, and she didn’t want to cry. She kept her voice level as she spoke. “You never said sorry.”

Willam felt a change in the energy of the woman standing next to her. She watched as Sharon pushed some hair away from her face and frowned. “I guess I didn’t…feel like I had anything to apologise for.”

Willam gave her a scathing look. “It was a year, Sharon. A year of us fucking about and spending time together and getting to know each other- fuck, you knew the complete shitstorm that was my family, I hadn’t even told Courtney that. Of course I was going to fall in…of course I was going to develop feelings for you.”

Sharon scuffed at the ground with her foot. “I just didn’t know what I was doing, okay? We were both young and I felt like I was going to live forever…all the drugs and drink and parties. I didn’t realise that what we had was so special to you and…well, for what it’s worth I’m sorry, Willam.”

Willam took a long, hard drag from her cigarette, her lungs burning as she sucked in a deep breath. Seeing sense, she shook her head. “It’s not your fault. You were my first real relationship.”

Sharon had the good grace to look ashamed as Willam took another drag. She didn’t seem as if she was about to say anything, so Willam went on.

“All this shit with Courtney,” she sighed. “Maybe if it hadn’t been for all that had happened between us I’d feel more open to admitting things to her, you know? About how I feel and about just going for it with her. It just ended so fucking badly with us, Sharon. I wish it hadn’t.”

Sharon sighed. “Fuck, I feel like everything that happened between you two is all my fault.”

“No, no, don’t feel that way,” Willam frowned, finishing her cigarette off and stubbing it against the wall. “Maybe I should’ve checked out therapy too. Maybe everyone needs a bit of therapy.”

“I’m a firm believer in that,” Sharon smiled a little and shrugged, her face suddenly taking on a look of gentle concern. “I’d have thought you would have gone to see someone at least once though, you know. After my whole…”

“After you overdosed? No. It was scary but it happened. I just happened to be there.”

Sharon shook her head and laughed. “You’re downplaying it so much, Willam. You saved my life.”

Willam sighed and shook her head. “Let’s go back inside. I think we’ll just be in time for last orders if we’re quick.”

Closure. It was weird for Willam after all these years. It was even weirder that she’d managed to go from hating Sharon, to being in love with Sharon, back to hating her, then to only mildly disliking her and now being friends with her again.

As Sharon held the door to the pub back open for her, the memories in her head seemed to sting a little bit less than usual.

***

It was New Years’ Eve, and Willam couldn’t quite believe it had almost been a year since her and Sharon began whatever they were calling this weird relationship-that-wasn’t-quite-a-relationship. There was no label on it, but tonight that was all going to change. Christmas at home had lit a fire underneath Willam, and if her parents weren’t going to accept her how she was, then fuck it. She might as well admit everything to Sharon. She certainly wouldn’t let her down as badly as her Mum had.

They were all walking up the big hill that looked over the city, stumbling in their heels and trainers in the pitch black which wasn’t helped by all the drink and pills they’d consumed. Luckily their stomachs were all lined with chips that they’d stopped off for on the way through town, Jackie handing over her card for the whole thing and Sharon laughing and adding on a kebab and falafels to her order. She certainly didn’t seem affected by all the food she’d eaten standing at the top of the hill, barely out of breath as she twirled around and took in the city below her. Willam watched her as she got her breath back, laughing at the sight of her. She was fucking beautiful, and it only made Willam more determined than ever to tell Sharon exactly how she felt.

“We made it with five minutes to go! Take that, hill!” Mayhem cheered, picking up a rock from the ground and launching it down the steep incline they’d just walked up. Willam giggled. It was so stupid and so dangerous, this whole situation, but nothing bad had happened yet so for now, it was perfect. Realising that she didn’t have long to tell Sharon everything, she strode over and pulled the other girl close to her, leaning in and kissing her deeply. She could feel Sharon’s dumb smile against her lips.

Fuck, she loved her so much.

“Hey,” Sharon grinned, pulling away and hugging Willam close. “What was that for?”

“I don’t know,” Willam sighed, anxiety fluttering away at her stomach. Was she going to do this? She pulled slightly away from Sharon so that she could see her face. “I just love you.”

Sharon tipped her head back and laughed, squeezing Willam’s waist. For a moment Willam thought she hadn’t heard her. “Yeah, and I love you too, you big idiot. You say the funniest fucking shit, Willam, it’s too much.”

Panicked, WIllam forced a smile on her face. This couldn’t be happening. She could have backed out there, pretended the whole thing was just a big joke, but for some reason she forced herself to commit to the confession. “No Sharon, it’s not a joke. We’ve been sort of…doing girlfriend-y things for a while now, you know, and fuck it, why don’t we just give ourselves a label and fuck what everyone else thinks? I love you, Sharon. I want to be your girlfriend.”

That was the moment that everything came crumbling down.

“Willam I didn’t…” Sharon’s face had dropped, her grip on Willam’s waist loosening. “I didn’t know you…oh, fuck. Willam, I don’t want a girlfriend.”

Willam’s chest physically hurt, as if someone had stomped on her heart. All the air seemed to have been removed from her lungs.

“Oh.”

She’d never seen Sharon look so awkward. “Yeah, I just…I don’t like committing myself and I want to keep my options open. I mean obviously I love spending time with you, I just…you’re a friend, and you’re a good fuck, but I can’t see myself seeing you as anything more than that. You know what I mean?”

Willam blinked and nodded slowly. Was she fucking serious? Looking Sharon in the eyes, she tried to search for something, anything that gave her a clue that Sharon was just fucking about and not actually being serious. She gave a short exhale. “I mean, I should have done this when we were both sober, right? Because you know..you’re high and you’re drunk and you probably don’t even know what I’m saying or what you’re saying.”

Willam found herself giving a short, hopeful laugh. Fuck, she was desperate. Sharon looked at the ground and shook her head. “Willam, no babe. I know what you’re saying. And I might be fucked but I’m telling you how I feel, I promise. I don’t feel anything…deep for you like that.”

There was a silence in which Willam looked at all the stars in the sky, balls of burning gas. She focused on them until her eyes hurt.

“Is that…alright?” Sharon asked, the awkwardness in her voice drawing everything out. Composing herself, Willam tipped her head back down and nodded briskly.

“Mhm. Yeah, of course.”

Sharon smiled and hugged her quickly. “You’re a good friend, Willam.”

As Sharon bounded her way over to the other girls, Willam trudged behind her until she found Mayhem.

“Listen, I’m going to go,” she said, Mayhem’s happy face dropping instantly at Willam’s words.

“What?! But bitch it’s almost time for the countdown! You can’t go yet!” she squealed, tugging on Willam’s arm. Willam shook her head.

“No, really. I really need to go.”

Mayhem looked concerned. “What’s the matter? Has something happened?”

“No, no, honestly it’s fine. I just need to go home, I’m not feeling well. Probably going to spew. But listen, I’ll be fine,” Willam said, suddenly feeling a lump in her throat which she hurriedly swallowed down. She suddenly needed a hug and found herself wrapping her arms around Mayhem. “I’ll be fine. You have fun, okay? I’ll see you when you get in.”

And then Willam made her way back down the hill, the freezing cold air hitting her face as shouts from her friends heralded the start of the New Year.

From then on, it was about healing. Willam still saw Sharon in lectures, but they didn’t sit near each other anymore. Sharon often cast her glances from across the lecture theatre which Willam forced her eyes not to meet. Of course they still shared all the same friends, which made the social aspect of things difficult, and Willam found herself going to less and less parties. Given that she shared a flat with Mayhem, she still got all the gossip and stories, so she had all the excitement of being there without seeing Sharon and without the inevitable downer and hangover the next day. As they entered their final year together, Willam began to hurt less and less but resented Sharon more and more, and suddenly their relationship had come full circle. Knowing that the year she graduated was the year that counted most, Willam spent most of her time in the library whilst Sharon, enabled by Mayhem, seemed to spiral further and further down a drug-fuelled rabbit hole. Willam hardly saw her in lectures. She still thought about her sometimes, a pang at her heart when she considered what could have been, but Willam knew her future was going to be good if she got the degree classification she needed.

It was January of her final year, around two years since everything began with Sharon, when Willam awoke startled and scrambling for her bedside lamp as somebody screamed and crashed through her bedroom door. In her sleepy mind, she only half-recognised the voice as Mayhem’s, but it was so full of terror she wasn’t sure at first. Finally reaching the switch for her lamp, she turned it on to find that there were in fact two people in the room- Mayhem, as she’d thought, and the other, Sharon.

Willam wasn’t in the mood. She wasn’t in the mood for drunk, drug-fuelled let’s-wake-up-my-flatmate fun at 4am, and she certainly wasn’t in the mood for properly seeing her ex for the first time in so long here in her flat of all places. On second glance, though, Willam saw that something was wrong. Something was badly wrong. Sharon’s eyes weren’t open, and Mayhem was holding her in her arms. Her body wasn’t lifeless- it was shaking violently, and blood was pouring from her mouth. Suddenly feeling as if she’d been shocked with a thousand volts, Willam leapt out of the bed and ran onto the floor.

“What’s happened?”

Mayhem’s face was covered in black tear tracks, and her breath came in harsh judders as she explained to Willam. “We just came home…we took a few lines, but it must have been stronger than usual, or cut with something…I only had two but she had five…”

“Five?! Jesus fuck,” Willam cried out, holding Sharon’s shaking head with both her hands and fleetingly being reminded of all those years ago at the Halloween party, when Sharon had done the same for her. Willam looked at Mayhem. “Did you phone an ambulance?”

Mayhem looked guilty. “Willam I can’t, they’d send us to prison…I can’t have my parents know…there must be something we can do-”

“Oh my God Mayhem, phone the fucking ambulance now!” Willam yelled at her, full of rage at how careless her friend had been. “You’re expecting us to treat a cocaine overdose with what, a packet of fucking Beechams? Get on the fucking phone!”

Mayhem looked embarrassed as she fumbled about in her clutch bag for her phone, dialling 999 as quickly as she could with her fake nails on. As she spoke to the operator, Willam continued to hold Sharon close as her body began to still from the seizure. She was unsure if this was a good or a bad sign. Struck with a bolt of common sense, she tipped Sharon on to her side, allowing the blood to pour out of her mouth and onto the wooden floor. She had obviously bitten her tongue, but Willam didn’t know how badly. She didn’t want to look and see.

“You’ll be okay, you dumb fucking bitch,” Willam whispered to her, feeling the panic continue to rise in her chest. “I’m here, and the ambulance will be here soon. It’ll be okay.”

***

Sharon blinked and drank the last of the beer in her bottle. They were back inside, and had somehow got back onto the topic of that evening.

“If you hadn’t got Mayhem to phone the ambulance,” she said quietly, only slurring her words a tiny bit. “I would be dead.”

Willam scrunched up her nose, not accepting the flattery. “Mayhem would have done it eventually, I had nothing to do with anything.”

“You saved my life even though you didn’t have to,” Sharon looked at her with an intense gaze. Willam exhaled loudly.

“This isn’t a superhero movie. I got my flatmate to phone 999 because your dumb ass took a drug overdose,” she snapped, wanting so much to reject the affection that Sharon was attempting to give to her. Softening, she looked at the table top. “That was the last time we really spoke, wasn’t it? Until you joined at work. Well, I suppose you didn’t really speak, you just…gargled out blood.”

Willam gave an awkward laugh, and Sharon laughed with her. Willam looked at her, curiosity suddenly filling her.

“Why did you never say anything? You know, when you joined Dosac. You could have spoken to me about everything. Why didn’t you?” she asked, Sharon taking on a thoughtful look.

“Why didn’t you?” Sharon asked, shrugging and knowing she had Willam well and truly in her place. Willam frowned, trying to articulate her thoughts which was difficult after five beers.  

“I feel like neither of us have ever been really big on communication,” she laughed, Sharon agreeing with a giggle. “I guess I just defaulted to dislike. There was nothing to say. Everything to say had been said years ago. There was no point dredging everything up.”

Sharon nodded. “I’d agree with that.”

Willam considered something. “Did you tell Alaska about us? I know she knows we went to Uni together, but-”

“Yeah, I did.”

Willam didn’t know what to do with that information. “What did she say?”

Sharon snorted a laugh. “She says I behaved like a first class cunt.”

“That sounds about right,” Willam laughed. “And she doesn’t mind us working together?”

Sharon frowned. “No. She’s not a weirdo, she knows I’m obsessed with her and you’re obsessed with Courtney and there’s not going to be anything going on between the two of us.”

“I’m not obsessed with her, I just…” Willam trailed off, jumping as the barmaid rang a huge bell. She looked at Sharon with disappointment. “Well, I guess we need to drink up.”

Sharon nodded. “Do you want to head somewhere different?”

“Nah. I don’t feel like talking about our bloody breakup and your overdose gave me many going-out vibes, do you?” Willam deadpanned, Sharon looking at the table and laughing.

“I guess not,” she smiled guiltily, taking Willam’s hand and squeezing it. “I am sorry, Willam. For everything that happened between us.”

Willam found herself rubbing Sharon’s knuckles with her thumb the way she used to do. “Don’t be sorry. I’m glad we did this tonight. It was good.”

They began to make their way out of the pub, grabbing their jackets and bags but somehow keeping their hands intertwined, and they still didn’t let go once they were outside, alone on the quiet street. Willam felt odd and her stomach felt bubbly with feelings that were strange and yet so well-known.

“How are you getting home? We could share a taxi?” Sharon offered, squeezing Willam’s hand.

She shook her head. “Nah. I’m Clapham. It’s out of your way. I think I can get a night bus somewhere down the road so I’m just going to walk down.”

“Fair enough. I’ll head across the road, there’s a taxi rank down there,” Sharon smiled, looking at Willam wistfully. She hadn’t yet let go of her hand, and now she was taking the other one. “Hey. For old times’ sake?”

Willam considered it. They’d both been dumped, they were both pining after someone else, they both needed affection, and they were both friends.

Shrugging, Willam leaned in to meet Sharon who instantly let go of her hands and brought them around her waist, holding her close as their lips met gently. They were both tentative, as if neither of them were really sure what to expect. Sharon tasted exactly as she did eight years ago, of cigarettes and something that Willam couldn’t articulate then and still couldn’t articulate now. It was as if she was smelling a perfume she’d used so often and then stopped, forgetting its scent and then suddenly remembering- haunting, carrying so many memories, and taking her right back to a specific place and time. Willam brought her hand up to cup Sharon’s jaw, kissing hard and feeling the other woman’s tongue against her own. The whole situation was insane, but it was strangely comforting.

Willam pulled away first, just so that she could have the satisfaction of knowing she’d pulled away first. Sharon smiled at her and she smiled back, and soon the two of them were laughing at nothing.

“Yeah. I’m definitely still in love with Alaska,” Sharon shrugged, walking slowly out onto the road and making to cross it.

“You’re a rotted whore,” Willam yelled at her, still laughing. Sharon paused in the middle of the road, swaying a little in her heeled boots and tipping her head to the sky.

“I’m not a rotted whore,” she cried, making Willam laugh even more. “I’m Sharon Needles, Cabinet Minister! Sharon Needles, Minister for the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship!”

“Sharon Needles, the UK’s political heavyweight!” Willam laughed as Sharon doubled over in the road.

“Sharon Needles- making history! A legend! An immortal!” she drunkenly shouted. Neither of them had stopped laughing, and Willam felt as if Sharon seemed to be bathed in a glow of white light, as if she really was some sort of celestial being. Sharon’s laughter died down and she smiled affectionately at Willam, and the light seemed to be getting brighter and brighter. Willam frowned. It seemed really real, and Sharon seemed to notice it too as she turned around in the road.

It was only then than Sharon’s face dropped into one of complete shock, and Willam all at once realised where the light was coming from. The car could have been going at any speed, Willam didn’t know, but everything happened so fast as Sharon’s feet were swept off the ground from underneath her, her body rolling over the car’s bonnet, then windshield, then finally over the roof before smacking with a crack against the concrete of the road.

The car was gone and the white light was gone, and all that was left was the darkness that enveloped the street, the blood ringing in Willam’s ears, and Sharon’s lifeless body on the tarmac.

[oddyssea]

" it's not a dream. It's a - memory. And it makes me sick. "

GAME STARTERS VOL.1 ( ALICE: MADNESS RETURNS )–––ACCEPTING

RARE WAS IT for Beck to speak much on his personal life. Karter had always found that he could relate to that MOST OF all when it came to him. There were always dark parts of someone’s life, but few knew the true weight of having darkness SHROUD one’s entire past experience to a point of having NO JOY. NO LIGHT. True, Karter knew VERY LITTLE of what he’d experienced past what Beck had said OFF HANDEDLY or willingly offered up, but Karter was a man of SHEER silence. He wouldn’t expect Beck to share, and he was ok with that. 

He had EVERY RIGHT to keep pain of the past to himself. There was always that sort of unspoken agreement between them. YOU DON’T ASK, I DON’T TELL. Even where they stood now, moving forward into the VAST UNKNOWN. Their relationship slowly shifting in light of recent events, Karter upholds that agreement. 

IT’S AT BECK’S DISCRETION WHETHER HE SHARES OR NOT. ALWAYS. 

But those words are concerning if nothing else. The situation of what brought them out was vague. Beck didn’t talk about his Ex-Wife much. There were always a few vague details here and there, but the extent of Karter’s knowledge was that she WASN’T in the picture anymore. Plain and simple. THUS it wasn’t a topic they discussed much ( what would be the point anyway? ). LOST LOVE was an unpleasant experience for everyone involved, not the least of which BEING BECK HIMSELF. He listens anyway.

Rare was it for BECK to say much of anything about things going on IN THE MOMENT. Perhaps that was for the best. Karter knew better than anyone that SOME THINGS SHOULD STAY IN THE PAST. Where the belong. They’re seated outside on the back porch of his bungalow. He’d asked Beck to spend some of the summer there because he needed help with renovations he was doing. MORE OF A HALF TRUTH, yes he needed help, but it wasn’t anything that would require Beck to stay that long. HE JUST LIKED THE COMPANY. Spending time alone in that humble little house put him on edge. HAVING BECK THERE MITIGATED THAT. 

They’d finished for the day and now they’d just been waiting for the sunset, a couple of beers, Karter’s legs kicked up on the cooler chock FULL of them as an unlit cigarette rests behind his ear for LATER, when things got colder. They’d been mocking each other about SOMETHING ( the details of which he can barely remember now ). But it’s when Beck speaks about HER that silence loomed over the two of them. NOT AN UNCOMFORTABLE one. Karter was listening. ABSORBING the information. It was VAGUE, or at least vague by everyone else’s standards. He’d mentioned something about her LIFE after him and it just seemed as though he’s getting lost, SWIMMING in his own words.

AT FIRST Karter isn’t sure what to do, SO HE JUST LISTENS. Keeping a watchful eye on Beck’s expression. STUDYING the way he moves and shifts in his seat. He’s UPSET, clearly, but it seems so much STRANGER than that. There’s something more DIFFICULT to it than that. WHAT HAPPENED? It’s a question that naturally BURNS in his mind. But he’s not going to ask. IT’S not his place. It’s when that LAST sentiment passes Beck’s lips that it finally clicks.

‘It’s not a dream. It’s a memory. And it makes me sick’

SHE’S STILL HAUNTING HIM. All Karter had ever known for sure was that Beck’s wife had PASSED some years ago. He never prodded into it, but this...THIS was on the assumption that he just LOST HER. He’s sure it’s not the full story but it was as simple as Beck’s FLAT EXPRESSION. Like he’s vacant. JUST A HUSK SITTING THERE, that leads Karter to believe it left part of him hollowed out.

“Hm.”

HE’S THINKING. But he exchanges a glance with Beck for a second before moving from his chair, FINDING his place on the floor in front of a now HUNCHED OVER Beck, he seems just LOST in the moment. RARE was it for him to make a decision like this, BUT he figures the LACK of understanding MIXED with the EYE CONTACT and the gentle pat to his CHEEK might do him some good.

GIVE HIM ANYTHING ELSE TO FOCUS ON. Because moving on–––––that wasn’t always an option for everyone.

“Φέρνουμε τον πόνο μας στους ώμους μας. Στιςκαρδιές μας για το μήκος της ζωής μας. ��αι οιΘεοί μας χλευάζουν δεδομένου ότι βλέπουντέτοια σύγκρουση. Αλλά στο τέλος είναι οι Θεοίπου πρέπει να αισθανθούν αυτές τις ντροπή καισύγκρουση, για ακόμη και στο σκοτάδι όπως αυτόπου δεν μπορούν να πετύχουν. Δεν μπορούν να μας σπάσουν. Έχουν αποτύχει. Και για έναν Θεό,δεν υπάρχει καμία μεγαλύτερη ντροπή από τηναποτυχία. Οι Θεοί έχουν αποτύχει στο σπάσιμοσας, αυτός μπορείτε να είστε βέβαιοι.“

A moment longer passes and there’s nothing but silence. It’s probably for the best because if he knows anything about what it feels like to feel so RAW. So VULNERABLE to share such a painful thing like that, then he knows full well silence is a gift from god. But Karter ALSO knows that by now there’s ALWAYS been a singular constant of what he strives for when they are together, and so he lets his hand drop to the ground in front of him, TAKING a sip of his beer and speaking.

“I got ya.”

It’s not him PASSING OFF Beck’s words. No. Many times before he’d said those words. BY NOW they have only one meaning in the context of their relationship. 

‘I’ve got you.’

HE’S THERE. He’s not letting Beck be ALONE. He’s not to be left out in the dark to fend for himself. HE’S NOT going to be forced to face the demons without someone at his back. HELPING him whenever he may need it.

BECK ISN’T ALONE.

@hebled

[jurasssicworldimagines]

Baby Blue (Owen Grady x Reader)

Request: owen reacting to the reader saying she’s pregnant imagine? i love ur writing btw!

Words: 1,073

Warnings: Nope

It was raining.

The pittering noise on the windows was all you could hear as you paced anxiously around Owen’s bungalow. Your fluffy socks rubbed against the flooring as you slid into the kitchen, your hands grabbing at the counter to stop yourself from falling.

You bent over the counter, the edge pushing into your lower stomach as you tried looking out into the darkness for his car. There was no sign of headlights, you puffed out your bottom lip and plopped your feet flat back on the floor.

Your nails clicked on the granite as you walked back towards the living room, you guessed you could try watching TV while you waited. The nerves in your stomach wouldn’t settle down, though.

That’s when you heard it. The rubble of his car engine as it neared, two lights swept past the dimly lit kitchen as he neared. You listened for the engine to stop, and when the car door slammed shut you sucked in a sharp breath.

He stumbled through the door and shook his head free of raindrops. A lopsided grin spread across his face as he threw off his jacket and tossed it onto the kitchen island. A couple spare papers fluttered towards the ground but he paid no mind to it.

One of his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you into him. He pressed a hard kiss to your mouth and you could feel his smile through it. He lifted his head up just enough to bop your nose against his before walking into the kitchen to search for food.

“Darlin’ you have no idea how much I’ve been dyin’ to see you!” He bent down to look inside the full fridge, he pushed spare things aside and pulled out a beer. His muscles flexed as he pulled the bottle cap off of it and took a huge gulp. “Hoskins was bitchin’ bout how much work I have to get caught up on and pointless shit like that.”

He took another large drink before talking again, all while roaming around the kitchen and opening drawers searching for something you weren’t sure of.

“I think Blue misses you. You need to come and see her soon.” He spun around to look at you again.

His eyes sweeping over your appearance, taking in your bare legs and how his shirt hung well past your butt. The sleeves made your arms look like sticks. You looked small and nothing less of adorable in his clothes.

“You’re like her mom, you know.” You visibly froze at the word and he quirked an eyebrow, taking a couple steps towards her and opening up both of his arms for you to come closer to him. However, you didn’t move.

“Darlin’?”

“Hey, Owen?”

You two spoke at the same time, your voice nervous and on edge, while his was filled with worry and concern. His arms dropped but he took another step forward, cocking his head to the side as he watched you carefully.

His heart skipped a beat, anxiously waiting for you to speak.

“What’s the matter, baby girl?” You froze again at the word baby. Your eyes frantic.

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out, all you did was stand there with an open mouth and stared at your fiance with wide eyes. His eyes flicked down at your hands. You hadn't even realized you were spinning the engagement ring on your finger subconsciously, something you did when you were scared.

You were excited and nervous all at once.

You weren’t sure how Owen was going to take the news, it’s not like it was something you were planning to happen. You two hadn’t even discussed kids, like ever. The Raptors were already like you two’s kids. 

You had always wanted a kid, you had always wanted a little version of you and Owen. It was something you thought about often. How would you two be as parents? How would your kid act? Would they be like you, or Owen, or a mix, or would they be nothing like either of you?

“Kylie Jenner just had her baby.” The words flew out of your mouth even though that was not what you wanted to say. “In February.”

His eyebrows and nose both scrunched up, one corner of his mouth twitched upwards in confusion as he stared at you.

“Kylie who?” He placed one hand on his hip, this time raising just one eyebrow as he took a step closer to you. You were frozen in place, fiddling with your hands in front of your stomach. “Is that one of your friends?”

You shook your head.

“Congratulations?” His voice held nothing but utter confusion, the wild look still stuck on his face.

“Hey, Owen?” He raised an eyebrow again, this time telling you to keep talking. “I’m...I’m, uh, I’m pregnant.”

His face fell and your heart dropped, the frantic look on your face was now times ten, while all look of confusion and lost on his face was wiped clean.

“I found out today. I took a pregnancy test a week ago, and went to the doctor today just to double check….” You trailed off and remained silent for a moment before talking again. You spoke fast, something you did when you were nervous. “I’m eight weeks as of tomorrow. I’m sorry, I don’t know, I just, I don-”

Suddenly he took two large steps, in that small amount of space he was in front of you. He towered over you for only a second before he dropped to his knees, his face directly in front of your stomach. He hesitated before placing his large hands on either side of your stomach, touching you with such gentle hands as if you were made of glass.

His eyes were in awe as he stared at you, he looked so surprised and happy and excited all at once.

“I’m gonna be a dad?” His voice was raised at the end, although it wasn’t nervous, it was more excited than anything. Although he spoke extra soft as if he was going to scare the baby growing in your barely showing belly. “You’re gonna be a mom?”

He looked up at you with a large grin covering his handsome features. He teased you with what he said next, although you could hear the small amount of seriousness still laced in it.

“Baby blue.”

[theoneandonlyowengrady]

I Do Love you

Reader x Owen Grady

Request #2 ( “I do actually love you.” )

Warnings: fluff | angst | triggering | violence | language

Summary: You’re having a rough time in a relationship with Owen Grady because of his lack of outward compassion. Just when things start to hit the breaking point, he confesses his true feelings.

Wordcount: 1,618

It was always a philosophy in your life that people only described love as pain when they couldn’t find it. Or when it left them. Or when they were too afraid to accept it. But love didn’t hurt. Love was frustrating, and stupid, and necessary, and amazing, but it wasn’t supposed to hurt.

It was a philosophy in your life at least until you met Owen Grady, the man who made all those poems about heartache and heartbreak finally make sense. Sure, it wasn’t supposed to hurt, but he made it hurt, because some people were just like that. Some people just aren’t straight forward. Sure, you knew he felt it too. But he was the kind of man who didn’t say it that much.

It was another hot day on Isla Nublar. The roaring in the distance still sent chills down your spine, despite knowing how secure everything really was. Owen had left early to work with his girls, leaving you alone in the sheets again, without a word.

“Morning, Owen,” you muttered, rolling over with a yawn.

You were bathing in his scent, in the wonderful smell of sleep and him and the sun. You felt a smile creep up on you, and decided to be early for work because usually things went better when you were the first one there.

The bathroom was still foggy and wet, which made it tight and difficult to breathe. You coughed your lungs clear and opened a window, glancing at the mirror.

You froze, taking in the little stick figures drawn onto the wet glass. There was a note sprawled out under them. 

Morning love, see you for lunch.

Warmth began to collapse your heart and you smiled a big mushy smile, the kind of smile that warped into a frown around the edges. You didn’t want the note to disappear as the fog cleared, yet you watched as it slowly began to fade away.

You set aside your work clothes- the typical khakis, a tank top you wore under your itchy work shirt, which you inevitably removed it the sweltering sun anyway. It was hard working with the open field dinos, or the roamers as you and your coworkers called them, because it was an awful lot of driving around and just looking for them.

You spared a worried thought for Owen always with the raptors, but it fled as soon as the hot water hit you.

It was around lunch time when you got a text from Owen saying he had forgotten his food at the bungalow. You shoved your phone into your back pocket and threw your work shirt over your shoulder, your tank top stained with sweat and mud from a hard mornings dino-maintenance work.

“I gotta go grab Owen’s lunch,” you said, grabbing your keys from the lunch table where you and your friends would usually eat.

“Again?” Your friend asked, groaning. “You know, Y/N, I’m starting to think you should-”

“It’s fine,” you said, forcing up a smile, “I get to go visit him, you know?”

She smiled back and shrugged, turning back to her sandwich and cellphone.

You drove the long way back to the bungalow and trudged through the tired tracks and mud to reach the door. Owen had left out his tools for his bike sprawled over the steps, just another mess for you to clean.

You grabbed his lunch from the fridge and tossed it onto the passenger side seat.

You picked up your phone and shot him a text, on my way. Please be ready to get it when I get there.

As you started the car up again it buzzed.

Got it. Thank you.

You threw the phone down next to the lunch and shook your head as you pulled out from the muddy driveway and onto the dirt road that would lead you straight to the raptor cage.

He was standing at the top of the paddock when you drove up, staring down the road. He smiled a little and held up a hand to wave. You just looked straight ahead and bit the insides of your cheeks, too annoyed to acknowledge him.

You got out and grabbed his lunch, walking into the cages and up the steps to where he was, alone.

“I asked you to come down and get it,” you snapped, tossing it towards his chest. He grabbed it, raising his eyebrows in question.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I wanted to see you. Spend some time together.”

“Yeah, well, I have to drive all the way back now and try and eat something before I need to spend the rest of the day working.”

He sighed, looking down. “Hey,” he said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do it.”

You frowned, “it happens all the time, Owen. And I always do stuff like this for you. I feel like you just don’t appreciate me. You barely even say you love me.”

He looked up suddenly, eyes wide as he shook his head. “No, no, no- I do. I’m just forgetful, you know. A lot on my mind.”

You nodded, “yeah, I know, I know. Training one of the most dangerous animals in the world.”

He reached forward and took you in his arms, pulling you in close and tight to his chest. He pressed his face against the top of your head, breathing you in. He held you so tight you couldn’t move. All you could feel was his warmth. Smell his faded cologne. Feel his shirt rub against your cheek.

He let you go and tried to smile, “I’ll make it up to you. I promise. I will.”

You shrugged, “love you. See you later.”

He turned and went back to work. You left.

You were driving home that night, wondering why you so naively convinced yourself that love didn’t hurt or didn’t make you so angry you could rip all of your hair out. Every other relationship you had been in didn’t make you sad until the bitter end. This one was like a rollercoaster, so up and down, so unpredictable and dizzying that it was better to go through it with your eyes closed.

You could see the bungalow lights on as you approached, the road bumpy and sending you in every which direction your seatbelt would allow. You chewed on your lip and extended your neck to see over the top of the car.

As you pulled in, you noticed something different. Fairy lights were put up and glowing under the dark sky, a gentle light blue like the stars. They hung from the roof to a tree and down to the ground a gentle decline, leading over to a blanket stretched out flat across the edge of the cliff, overlooking the wide open sea and black universe above you.

You got out of the car, chilly in just your tank top and khaki shorts. Owen bursted from the house dressed up in his nicest clothes, just short of a high school formal dance. He smiled, scratching the back of his head.

“You’re earlier than I thought you’d be.”

You smiled that same smile you had earlier, the kind where it pushed down into a frown and made your heart do flips and twists inside of your chest.

You balled up your fists and picked at your palms, your shoulder rising up to your ears.

“I made dinner,” he said. “I’m not the best chef but, I cooked some mac and cheese and we’ve got some wine left over.”

You laughed. He reached out for your hand and you took it, letting him guide you to the picnic blanket where two plated were already set up, wine glasses reflecting the moon light.

“I think its only fair that if you have to bring me my lunch, I bring you dinner,” he said, offering up a plate full of cartoon-character-shaped mac and cheese. You smiled and accepted it, digging in.

He watched you, his eyes so deeply in tune with your every movement. You tried not to look at him because you didn’t want to get embarrassed or shy. You just ate and enjoyed your view while he enjoyed his.

“I do actually love you,” he said. “I really do love you. So much more than I’ve ever loved anybody else before. And I think that’s why I have such a hard time saying it.”

You looked up at him, swallowing your mouthful of mac and cheese.

“That’s why, I think, I have to do this,” he said. He took your hands and helped you up. Then he lifted you in his arms, staring down at you the entire time.

He placed you, sitting, on an old hammock he had installed on his first few days on the island. You swung back slightly, your toes just grazing the floor.

“Y/N, I love you,” he said, lowering himself to one knee, “I want you to know that without any doubt in your mind.”

You watched him dig in his pocket and pull out a tiny black box. He fumbled with it for a second.

“So...” he said, opening it up to reveal a big, bright ring with a diamond just like the moon. “Will you marry me?”

You looked down at him for a long second, tears welling up in your eyes before you whispered a faint yes and collapsed down into his arms, where he held you, his face buried in your hair as you cried onto his shoulder.

“I love you,” you said.

“I love you,” he said, holding you tight, his arms folded around your body and hands flat against your ribs. “I love you, I love you.”

[volunaryroom3]

TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE AND SELF HARM

CHAPTER ONE

I can’t do this anymore.

I’m so tired. Nothing will ever get better. My life is pointless. Just pain and suffering.

I have to go now. They’ve came to take me away. They’re going to take the pain away.

I am so sorry. I love you very much.

****

‘We think you need to come in’. He looked at me from over his glasses, nose wrinkled in concern. They didn’t understand what they were doing. I was scared. I looked out of the window. The light was fractured, streaming through the glass. It was dancing on the floor and running up the chair. My eyes followed the light and shape of the chair, following the lines, leading me back to his face. He was looking at me. They were all looking at me.

It was my turn to speak. I didn’t know what to say. My finger repeatedly tapped on my arm rest as a response.

The man in the glasses crossed his legs and lent back in his chair, appearing to be nonchalant in an effort to make this easier. However this false nonchalance did not glide over the awkwardness or seriousness of my situation.

‘I don’t know’ I said. I hadn’t even intended to be alive let alone make decisions on my immediate future.

‘We think you need to come in. Treating you from home is not working. We feel you would be better here’ he repeated once more in cool composure but more as an instruction rather than an idea.

I understood what had led to me to this point. I had tried to take the microchip out of the back of my neck. I felt it writhe and buzz under my skin. I put my hand onto my top vertebra and ran my fingers over the metal disk stuck in between. The skin above was sore and rough, dozens of scratches in an effort to carve it out with as little mess as possible. The Doctors at the hospital didn’t even look at me. I told them to take it out but they said it wasn’t there and just sent me here. With a flick of my fingers I heard it ting. The sound rang through my ears. I had to get this out. I had to get out of here.

This room made me feel claustrophobic. Corner to corner I saw the walls pull slowly towards me, edges and shapes moving closer and closer. This room was bad news but I had sat in a room like this many times before. Different faces, different layout but the same situation.

I suddenly realised they were talking to each other and I wish I had been listening but I couldn’t stop tapping. Finger tapping on the chair, shoes against the floor, my foot beating to the sound of the earth and the world beating to the sound of me.

The three people staring at me had now turned into four.

‘Hello madeline, I am Debbie the ward manager’ she said stepping towards me, a fluorescent light crowning her head like a halo. Oh god is she one of them? Am I safe?

At that moment I realised my wrists were gently bleeding where I had been subconsciously nipping at the stitches.The sting brought everything came into focus and I surveyed the scene around me. Nothing was real. They were not real. Projected images. Images that didn’t quite fit the scene like a badly photoshopped holiday photograph.

I took a step back and took everything in further. They were all stood smiling at me. It seemed so unnatural. They might have not been real but the Angels were and still coming for me. We had to move.

I exited the room herded out by my entourage. The corridor opened up with beams of light, the path filled with angular colour leading to my dad sat in the foyer who was still clutching my handbag.

The woman was already further ahead and in conversation with him. He looked so sad. I didn’t want him to be sad. He’s too nice to be sad.

‘Can I go home and get some things? No one will know where my things are’ I asked

‘No’’ she replied ‘ you must come with us’

I looked back at him. He nodded his head. I understood he couldn’t help me now. I had no other options.

‘Okay’ I said as we continued on. I watched my dad grow smaller in the distance, handbag still clutched in one hand, waving a sad goodbye with the other.

We went through a set of double doors. Night time. Immediate darkness. I started to panic as it began to flood into my eyes. The Angles were coming for me now. I felt their eyes on me. In the distance I heard the chorus faintly echoing through the sky. If only didn’t have the microchip in my neck, if only someone had let me take it out. I froze in fear and felt one single tear fall over my cheek.

‘I can’t leave’’ I said ‘they’re going to come and kill me. It’s not safe the darkness is here’

She patted me on the shoulder. ‘Come on its not far’ she said and we continued on, my limbs heavy in fear.

We then through a another set of double doors before space extended out into me to form a courtyard and six perfectly space buildings spread out, glittering in the dark. Pathways splitting to reach each of the doors, like fingers extending from palm of a hand, lined with inspirational quotes engraved on the ground and dotted with topiary and abstract structures. I had reached the wards.

My panic was subdued by a sudden stillness. It was serene. Too calm, too quiet. In each building I could see dim lights with shadows drifting though the glow. This wasn’t a hospital. It was a village. It was a village for the mentally ill. Through the façade I could still sense it. Dystopia. It covered the traumatic reality of the patients, not out of distain or cruelty but as a distraction from the suffering.

We suddenly took a sharp right and marched towards the door of an oversized bungalow. This was to be my new home. I had only just moved home myself. There was so much movement in life, so much chaos, I couldn’t concentrate. Everything had just spiralled into one, melted into madness until i lost everything including myself. The only thing left was them. Them and the thought of what they would do when they found me.

We entered to be greeted by a reception, warm and white, nurses on the other side of the glass. The woman tapped on the glass and a nurse came to the locked door to let us in. I wanted to leave.

I walked in and was hit by a wall of sound. Colours entered my ears and I felt my hands tremble.

‘I will show you around’ she said and smiled as I heard the door clang and lock behind me. I noticed the rest of the party had left us somewhere along the way and now it was only me and her. It was then I looked further and found myself staring at four people in pyjamas staring at a tv that was crowned with books. I felt their eyes flicker towards me as I drifted past the TV set. Our pace quickened as we swooped through various doors, kitchen, laundry, private rooms, quiet rooms and through to the hall. It smelt like a hospital. Food and disinfectant.

‘Here is your room. You’re in room three’ she said.

The large pine door was already open for me. Once more my attention was taken away and was drawn to the sound of quiet footsteps and a door down the hall which had just been slammed shut.

I nodded my head and walked into room three. It was how I expected. How they always are. One single bed, a desk and a chair. The bathroom was ensuite consisting of a toilet and shower, the head of which flat against the wall. Nobody can hang themselves on that I thought.

‘We’re just checking your things and I’ll be back soon’ she said as she walked out the door and left me sat on the bed peering out into the hall. I could hear faint echos running through it. Chairs, footsteps and then shouting.

I felt I was being watched and realised the curtain was open. The darkness loomed through the window, monsters lurking within. I stood up, quickly drew the curtains and turned on all the lights. The light was good. They couldn’t get me in the light.

I sat back down on the bed in silence. A pause button. This is what this room is- a giant pause button to sleep in, a pause button on my life with no option to rewind or fast forward. I had no choice but to rest. However I did not want to pause my life at this moment. I want to go back.

At least I am alone. I should enjoy it while I can.

[propertyjournalist]

Why Low Rise Floors are better than High Rise Flats?

The real estate sector has been growing leaps and bounds since the past decade. The ever-rising incomes of the individuals powered by easy approvals of home loans are fueling the real estate industry to bring new and innovative alternatives to the residential units.

Not everyone is willing to book an apartment on a skyscraper or can afford expensive villas or bungalows.

Is there any middle path?

Yes, there is!

Builder Floors are the best-suited option and fall perfectly within the budget of every individual.

The millennials, today, consider taking luxury and lifestyle hand in hand. This is one of the main reasons as to why a lot of preference is being given these days to stylish low rise builder floors than high rise flats. The concept of builder floors is gaining popularity amongst the independent buyers especially in metro cities like Chandigarh- Tricity, Bangalore, Delhi- NCR, Pune, Kolkata and other tier-II cities in India. There are many buyers, however, who still don’t understand the difference between high rise apartments and low rise builder floors. As a result, they fail miserably in making the right choice for their housing needs.

Let me throw a light on basic differences between the two:

Builder Floors

Builder Floors are buildings which consist of generally three to four floors or sometimes even less. In these low rise floors, a single dwelling area is provided per floor to one individual. This means one single family has full authorization to the entire floor offering a greater level of privacy.

High Rise Residential Apartments

In a high rise residential project, there are many floors depending upon the government clearances. One floor in such an apartment consists of a number of apartments (2, 3 or 4 BHK) which means more than one family is residing and sharing the same floor.

Let’s have a look at some of the key benefits of the builder floors:

1.    Affordable Deal

Why pay a hefty amount for independent bungalows or villas when you can get the same independence and privacy in Builder floors?

It’s the price difference which makes low rise floor a lucrative option for everyone who wants a high-quality lifestyle at limited cost. Apart from the much-needed luxury and privacy offered by an entire floor, there are no maintenance fees and other unwanted charges which are levied in a high rise apartment.

2.    Approachable Locality

High rise apartments need some extra construction clearances from the government, so they are situated mostly out of the city vicinity. Builder floors are usually located in the posh and more developed areas of the city. So, occupants can enjoy good connectivity to all major landmarks of the city such as schools, hospitals, malls, etc. I would say that buying a builder floor is a lifestyle decision.

3.    Local Flavor

The real flavor of the city can be best seen at the eye-level. Undoubtedly, views from skyscrapers can be stunning but seeing people in a way that calls for connection and relationship building is not possible. The reason is simple, people living on high floors of a high-rise apartment building are less likely to leave their flats and mingle with people. Occupants living on low rise floors connect with the city and people pretty easily. High Rise flats offer a living that has no street life and is monotonously encapsulated in gated communities.

4.       Closer to Street and Green Spaces

If you have a disabled or elderly person living with you, low rise floors become an obvious choice. Also, in case of emergencies such as earthquakes, fire breakouts or serious health issues, it is easy to approach the ground from low rise floors.

High Rise apartments make no visual sense to a person walking down the lane at eye-level. The residents are totally lost and engulfed in houses which are isolating and dehumanizing.

Buying a builder floor which is at max four floors high will make you see people from the balcony or windows. This increases the chances of social encounters as well as propinquity.

5.    Great Reselling Prices High rise flats are subjected to the effect of too much wind and too much sun on every type of glass or paint. So, they require frequent maintenance as compared to low-rise builder floors. So, even if you are planning to sell or rent out your floor, you can expect a good value for money.

[samuelmmarcus]

Beautiful Homes of Instagram: Fall Decor

  Beautiful Homes of Instagram is one of my favorite series here on HomeBunch and it feels even more special when these homes are decorated for a special time of the year, such as Fall.

Ashley from @modernglamhome, beautifully decorated many spaces of her gorgeous home and she’s sharing all of the details with us today. Keep reading to learn a few decorating tricks by this talented homeowner:

   “Hi! I am Ashley, the voice behind Modern Glam a lifestyle blog where I share my love of home decor, fun DIY projects and healthy recipes. My husband and I have been renovating our California bungalow since we moved in 9 years ago. My husband, Nick is a general contractor and I own a women’s clothing store, Flaunt Boutique. We live in the San Francisco bay area with our 2 young kids.

When Luciane asked me to contribute to her inspiring series, Beautiful Home of Instagram, my jaw hit the floor. I’m just your average suburban mom who also loves to create a beautiful home. I love the home decor community on Instagram and I get so much inspiration and many of my design ideas from there.

So, let me show you around my cozy California bungalow home that we purchased 9 years ago. When we first bought our home, it was a blank slate. The previous owner didn’t do any improvements so the house needed some serious TLC, which is perfect for me!”

  Beautiful Homes of Instagram: Fall Decor

There are lots of things that we love about our home, but one of the first things that drew me to this one when we were looking was the front porch.

Fall Decor

Fall decor makes this front porch feel even more magical! I am loving the string lights and the faux candles. What a nice touch!

Outdoor Sconce: Rejuvenation.

Beautiful Lantern Pendants: here, here & here.

Hello, Pumpkin!

I like to use as many natural elements in my fall porch decor as possible. Lots of pumpkins, cornstalks, hay bales and mums were all that I needed to create this fun and festive neutral fall front porch!

Doormats: Wreath Doormat & Black and White Runner.

Siding Paint Color

The exterior paint color is “Benjamin Moore Revere Pewter”.

Hang Chairs

Our hanging chairs are one of our favorite spots to sit and watch the kids play and visit with our neighbors.

Fall Pillows: here, here, here & here.

Round Outdoor Rug: Target – similar here, here & here.

Hanging Chairs: Serena & Lily.

Summer Vibes

This is how Ashley decorates this space for summer: “I added a small table out here for setting drinks on and used an affordable circle rug to ground the space. New pillows and cute beach towels bring this space to life.”

Pillows: Serena & Lily.

Knit Pillows: Target.

Beach Towels: Serena & Lily.

Front Door

Our front door is by Pella and is painted Clark and Kensington’s Mountainside Vista. Although, I admit, I love to change the color of my front door. This is the 3rd color it’s been in 3 years and I’m already contemplating another change!

Meet the Homeowner!

This is the beautiful and talented, Ashley from @modernglamhome. I am sure you guys will love her home as much I do!

Living Room

My personal design rule is to buy all my furniture in neutral shades. Having a neutral foundation makes it’s easy to switch out the accessories for each season.

Pair of Stools: Serena & Lily.

Rattan Chair: Serena & Lily.

  Fireplace

Fireplace tile is Calcutta gold fish scale tile.

Tile: here & here – similar.

Mirror: Anthropologie.

Sweet Dreams

I am loving seeing Ashley’s puppies around the house… They’re adorable!

Side table is from Serena & Lily.

Hats

A quick and easy update I made for summer was creating this hat wall. I pulled all the sunhats out of my closet and hung them on the wall!

Beautiful Blankets: here, here, here, here, here, here & here.

Draperies: here – similar.

Hardware: here – similar.

Paint Color

All of our walls are painted Benjamin Moore’s Cotton Balls. I love the soft white color that has a touch of cream in it. We also painted our ceilings and trim the same color but in different sheens. This makes the room seem larger when all the colors are the same.

My walls are a satin finish, where the trim is semi gloss and the ceiling is flat. This creates a cohesive look that expands the room and makes it seem bigger!

Sofa Sectional: Pottery Barn Big Sur Sectional.

Coffee Table: Serena & Lily.

Chairs: Serena & Lily.

Rug: Serena & Lily.

Inspired by this Room:

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Dining Room

 My style is pretty eclectic. I love to mix different styles and use new, modern and antique pieces in the same space. My dining room is a perfect example of that. We have a rustic farmhouse table made of reclaimed oak with an ornate trestle base. I paired this traditional piece with modern lucite chairs. I love the mix of old and new!

Dining Table: here, here, here & here – similar.

Lighting

Chandelier: Visual Comfort Darlana Linear Chandelier – similar here.

Fall-Inspired

To stick with the modern farmhouse fall table theme, I added some casual yet neutral plaid napkins and a white pumpkin to each place setting.

Dining Chairs: here – similar.

Fall Tablescape

Fall Tablescape: “A mix of bay leaves, olive branches and rosemary stems were all I needed to create this fall centerpiece. Add in a few neutral white pumpkins, some candles and it’s the easiest centerpiece to create!”

Plates: Target.

Mugs: here & here – similar.

Kitchen

One of the first rooms we tackled when we first moved in was our kitchen. We originally painted the cabinets and installed new Calcutta Gold marble countertops. This spring, we underwent another remodel and replaced all the cabinetry, added open shelving and integrated appliances. The new design is more efficient and I love the warmth that the open shelves bring to this space!

Counterstools: McGee & Co. – Others: here, here, here, here & here.

Lighting: Visual Comfort.

Cabinet Paint Color

Our kitchen cabinets are maple with Benjamin Moore’s Simply White paint.

Kitchen Faucet: Delta.

Sink: Kohler.

Backsplash

Backsplash is a 3×6 white subway tile.

Open Shelves

The open shelving in our recently remodeled kitchen are from Ultra Shelf and you can order any size shelf to fit your space.

Hardware: Schoolhouse Edgecliff Pulls.

Metal Basket: McGee & Co.

Mixer: KitchenAid.

White Oak & Subway Tiles

I love the white oak and the warmth that it adds to our kitchen.

Countertop: Calcutta Gold Marble countertop.

Sconces: Visual Comfort – – similar here, here & here.

Wooden Bread Boards: here & here.

Breakfast Room

The breakfast room features a custom banquette and a marble tulip dining table from Design within Reach.

Similar Dining Table: here & here.

Stay Awhile Sign: Etsy.

Dining Chairs

Lucite Chairs: All Modern.

Hardwood Flooring

Another big project that we completed this year was to replace all the hardwood flooring. It’s amazing what a difference it makes in the overall feel and brightness inside your home.

New hardwood floor is California Classics in their Mediterranean Collection – color is called Vittoria – similar here & here.

Master Bedroom

Pink is my favorite color and our bedroom and closet are a true reflection of this love. My husband even loves this color. Pink in the bedroom is very romantic and has a glow at night that is ethereal.

Platform Bed: Pottery Barn.

Pillows

Pillows are from Serena & Lily.

Blush Pink Throw Pillow: Target.

Paint Color

Our bedroom is one of the only rooms that is painted a color other than white. I chose Benjamin Moore’s Gentle Butterfly.

Artwork: Minted.

Decor

Headboard: West Elm.

Acrylic Console Tables: CB2 – similar here.

Mongolian Lamb Stool: West Elm.

Sconces: Savoy House.

Artwork: Minted.

Bedding

Bedding is from Serena & Lily (my favorite bedding!): Duvet Cover & Sheet Set.

Throw: Anthropologie (Discontinued).

African Juju Hat: here – similar.

Basket: World Market – Other Beautiful Baskets: here & here.

Dressing Room

Another favorite room in our home is our walk-in closet. It’s honestly what sold me on our house. We updated the space 5 years ago with built in cabinets, leopard carpeting and beautiful finishes. It’s a true reflection of my personal style.

Our leopard carpet is from a local carpet store.

Hardware: LuxHoldups.

Lighting

I painted the ceiling and walls Calamine by Farrow and Ball. It was the perfect jumping off point for the rest of the room.

Lighting: Arteriors Osgood Pendant.

Master Bathroom

Our master bathroom is done in classic carrera marble. This room took almost a year to complete! That’s the life of living with a contractor for your husband.

The baskets under the sink hide everyday items such a hairbrushes, my hairdryer and curling iron, and extra towels. All of my makeup and toiletries are stored in the nearby linen closet. Because we only have 2 sets of towels and sheets, there is ample room for all the normal bathroom toiletries and beauty products!

Bathroom apothecary console is from Pottery Barn.

Bathroom Faucets: Pottery Barn.

Mirrors: Pottery Barn.

Sconces: Pottery Barn.

Shower Tiles: Carrara Marble.

Spa-like

One of my favorite parts of our bathroom is the large soaking tub. It is the prettiest focal point and serves as a true sanctuary after a long day.

Lighting: Visual Comfort – one of my favorite chandeliers!

Faux Fiddle Lead Tree: World Market – similar here.

Tub: Kingston Brass.

Rug: Kismet Rug – similar here.

Backyard

Since we live in the bay area, California, where the housing prices are insane and lot sizes are minuscule, creating an outdoor living area as an extension of our indoors allows us to expand our living space. And with California weather, we can use these areas 9 months out of the year.

Pillows: Serena & Lily.

Ottoman Coffee Table: Serena & Lily.

Chairs

Rattan Egg Chair: Target’s Opalhouse.

Accent Chairs: Target’s Opalhouse Brittana – also in Loveseat.

Beautiful Outdoor Umbrellas: here & here.

Outdoor Sofa

A long sofa meant for the outdoors is soft and neutral. This allows me to change the colors year to year. I offset the sofa with two oversized chairs and added a small outdoor coffee table in the middle. This allows us to set food or drinks on it.

The sofa we have had for a few years now. It was a great find from the Restoration Hardware outlet. I love that the cushions are a soft gray that make them completely versatile to new color schemes!

Beautiful Outdoor Sofas: here, here, here & here.

Rug: Target.

Gather

Our backyard isn’t big, but we love to spend time out here and gather with friends and family.

Merlot & S’mores

We also recently updated our side yard and have a great space for making s’mores and enjoying a glass of wine or two.

Chairs: Serena & Lily.

Pillows: Serena & Lily.

    Many thanks to Ashley for sharing the details above. Please, make sure to follow her on Instagram to see more!

  Best Sales of the Month:

Thank you for shopping through Home Bunch. I would be happy to assist you if you have any questions or are looking for something in particular. Feel free to contact me and always make sure to check dimensions before ordering. Happy shopping!

  Serena & Lily: Pillow & Throw Sale!

  Wayfair: Up to 75% OFF on Furniture and Decor!!!

  Joss & Main: Up to 70% off Sale!

  Pottery Barn: Bedroom Event Slale plus free shipping. Use code: FREESHIP.

  One Kings Lane: Buy More Save More Sale.

  West Elm: 20% Off your entire purchase + free shipping. Use code: FRIENDS

  Anthropologie: 20% off on Everything + Free Shipping!

  Nordstrom: Sale – Incredible Prices!!!

  Posts of the Week:

Black & White Modern Farmhouse.

Interior Design Ideas: Home Renovation.

Beautiful Homes of Instagram: Modern Farmhouse.

2019 New Year Home Tour.

Beautiful Homes of Instagram: Charlotte, NC.

New-Construction Home Ideas.

Small Lot Modern Farmhouse.

Florida Beach Cottage.

Tom Brady and Gisele Bundchen’s Home – Full House Tour.

Dark Cedar Shaker Exterior.

Beautiful Homes of Instagram: Coastal Farmhouse Design.

Neutral Home.

Southern-inspired Modern Farmhouse.

Coastal Farmhouse Home Decor.

Modern Farmhouse with Front Porch.

Lake House Interior Design Ideas.

New England Home.

Florida Beach House Interior Design.

Beautiful Homes of Instagram: Fixer Upper.

Tailored Interiors.Grey Kitchen Paint Colors.

Follow me on Instagram: @HomeBunch

You can follow my pins here: Pinterest/HomeBunch

See more Inspiring Interior Design Ideas in my Archives.

“Dear God,

If I am wrong, right me. If I am lost, guide me. If I start to give-up, keep me going.

Lead me in Light and Love”.

Have a wonderful day, my friends and we’ll talk again tomorrow.”

with Love,

Luciane from HomeBunch.com

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