#ken why are your socks pulled all the way up

[hopeymchope]

But what if they WEREN'T all in high school... ?

Those rare occasions when Atlus says "Maybe it's not only high-school-age teens who can unleash their inner selves to rebel against their current reality?" are really neat IMO.

[llovekami]

give it up 2 me / nanami k.

synopsis: after a month of nanami tirelessly working to help provide, you waltz into his office demanding some affection. you got what you wanted, but in a different way that satisfied both you and nanami.

content warnings: no curses au, giving hickeys (on reader), hair pulling on nanami, unprotected sex, reader is female, soft to rough sex, praising/degrading, orgasm denial once (on reader), aftercare mentioned but not written out, p in v, squirting, dirty talk, riding, mating press

a/n: hes so fine. would eat him alive.

nanami was the most hard-working man you'd ever met. that was obviously a given, with all the hours he's spent in his office chair, doing what he can to provide for your comfortable lifestyle. he never complained; not one little peep coming from those neglected lips of his as of recently.

truthfully, you'd been neglected yourself. of course, he still crawls into bed with you in the dead of night when you're too tired to act on your desires that had been festering for the better part of december. you didn't blame him, nor would you say that you were ungrateful. your lifestyle was only supported by nanami, who'd give you the stars in the sky if you'd ask for them. which is why when you were free from your friends and had nothing on your mind to buy, you slipped into his office room.

his back was turned to the entry doorway, but his ears perked up on the sound of your sock-covered feet hitting the floor. he turned his head just slightly, noticing the flimsy material of your nightgown as you came and wrapped your arms around his neck. "kentooo," you uttered quietly, drawing out the 'o' in his name. your voice did wonders on him, instantly perking him up from his tired mood. his tired eyes would glance up to yours, so bright and full of life. you felt guilty, you did, sitting back and spending the money he had so generously allowed you to spend without repercussion, but you didn't supply for him outside of dinner, cleaning the house, and... "give me attention," you'd demand. his eyes would narrow until the browns of his eyes would glint with mischief, a hum coming from him. "and just how should i deliver that request, princess?" nanami would whisper, as if it were a secret from everyone that his thoughts were taking a turn. your brows would quirk upwards, smile forming as you inched closer and closer towards him, as a predator would to prey. "i can name a few ways, ken." and like that, his fly was open and his cock would poke out, eager and throbbing. your flimsy nightgown would be hiked up to your hips, and you'd be straddling his hips and bouncing, almost desperately, just as nicely as you'd want to. you were so gentle with him, savoring every touch and breath against your skin that would engrave itself into your skin. the warmth of his words would tattoo itself into your brain, back arching just as he'd like. "you're such a good girl," he'd manage to huff out, "so perfect. look h - oh, fuck - how perfect you look for me. all pretty f'me." his hands would grasp your hips in a vice, his mouth slightly ajar and his head thrown back in his chair, which leaned back to accommodate both your and his bodies. "kennn," you'd drawl out, voice laced with a desire that had been festering up for a partial month. he'd grin, his lips locked onto your neck and creating hickeys that blossomed from a soft pink to a darker colour, soothing the marks with a lick to your neck. "yeah? feel good, princess?" he mumbled against your skin, burning up with the warmth of your bodies melting together. "oh, you precious, precious thing..." he whispered, before raising up from his seat and holding you by the flesh of your thighs, flipping your positions. "kento!" you gasped out, struggling to comprehend anything as your knees were pressed to your shoulders, just barely, and your hands came to press against his stomach. "please, please, im s - soo - close!" your words came out in stuttered gasps, brows knitted together. "ah, ah, ah," he tutted, stopping his motions. he kissed along your jawline, slow, easy, and his own breaths seemed labored. "not just yet. you wanna savor this, don't you?" he questioned, "you wanna feel good just a little while, right? be good for me..." kento grabbed your wrist and dragged your hand away from his stomach, closest to the part where you and him connected, and placed it on your chest, "or are you too dumb for that? too dumb to think, too dumb to speak. my dumb little whore." he giggled, watching as you writhed beneath him and stuttered out pleas for your release. when he was certain you were done, his thrusts resumed. slow, precise, snapping against the meat of your ass before picking up the pace once more. he was as rough as ever, eyes staring deeply into yours. "this is what you wanted," nanami muttered, "don't try to run from it now."

he breathed heavily, your hands coming to grab ahold of the blonde locks that would sprout from between your fingers, becoming messy and crazy. you tugged, and he grunted - a noise you found heavenly, if you could add. his lips met yours in a ferocious kiss, tongues rendezvousing around each other. with that, his hands would tighten around your legs and forced them further back, deepening his thrusts. pulling away from the lip-lock, he'd chuckle. "yeah? wanna cum?" he questioned, "y - yes! yes, kento, please!" your words came out slurred, and he released one of your legs in satisfaction. they slid up the side of your thigh, a harsh grasp coming to your waist in a bruising hold, one you were certain you would feel in the morning. it would slowly move, and his thrusts became more erratic, more desperate, more selfish. deft fingers would slide along your skin, before halting their movements at your stomach. slowly, he'd apply pressure, eyes zoned in to your eyes to watch how'd they squeeze shut, then force themselves open. a never ending process of watching where you'd connect together, then hiding from the pleasure. "go on then. cum for me." he'd command, and in an instant a mess would fly along his shirt, and stain the lower half of his body. it was messy, and his eyes would widen ever so slightly. mahogany irises would squint as his smile met his eyes, chuckling. "see? i knew you could do it. such a good girl." with that, he'd scoop you up gently. "come on, let's get cleaned up. you wanna change? hm?" he'd question as he walked, kissing praises into your soft skin, "i'll run a little bath. we'll go to bed then, yeah?" "promise, tomorrow will be all about you, angel."

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

For Eternity. (A Sequel to The Orange.)

You and Jake share an orange. He's never loved you more.

This is a sequel to The Orange, but can absolutely be read as a stand alone <3

Pairing - Jake Seresin x female reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Cursing, a little smooching

Word Count - 2614

Author's Note - hi, me again. I hope you enjoy this part 2 of The Orange. I loved that first fic so much, and whenever I go to write Jake, it seems to occur in that universe, so I thought why not make a sequel just as sweet as the first. as always, requests or thoughts, send them my way. all my love x

Masterlist. Requests.

Jake Seresin has always been an awful dancer. Like, seriously, genuinely, terrible. It was one of the main reasons, it turns out, that you fell in love with him.

Upon first glance, Jake seems perfect. Ken Doll perfect. Cover of Vogue perfect. Carved by the Gods perfect. He’s stunningly handsome, ridiculously charming, and one of the best fighter pilots the US Navy has ever seen. He seems almost too good to be true.

Then you see him dance. And you realise that maybe he isn’t quite as perfect as you first thought. It makes you love him 10 times more.

It hasn’t stopped him, though. The two of you have spent countless nights gliding around your kitchen in your socks, slipping this way and that, jumping to the beat of the 90’s R&B that Jake loves so much. On more than one occasion, he’s twirled you around like a ballerina in a music box, sending you both flying precariously into the counters. Strong arms come up to wrap around your middle, steadying you always. He’ll never let you fall.

You didn’t realise that it was possible to fall more in love with someone every day. You can’t help but ask yourself – when does it end? When will my cup finally be full? When will I reach the limit?

Jake pulls you back every time he can see you floating away.

He holds your hand, looks at you with those aquamarine eyes of his.

He says, “I love you,” but really, he means - love is not a finite resource.

He kisses your forehead, but he’s telling you - your cup can never be full. It’ll just keep spilling over.

His soft lips find yours, and he’s promising – our love will keep expanding forever. It’ll take over the universe and everything will be beautiful.

You’re convinced you must have been a saint in a previous life to be loved like this now. You didn’t know that a human being could love another human being so unconditionally, so completely, until you met Jake.

Sitting at the bar that day, all those years ago, your universe cracked and shifted. Juice from the orange still sticky on your fingers as you dug them into Jake’s cheeks, trying to pull him impossibly closer. Salt on your skin mixing with his as you pressed your foreheads together. Citrus on your lips where Jake had licked into your mouth. It was as if the Gods above had placed the blond man in front of you and said here. Have something good for once.

You knew, from that moment on, that you would never take him for granted. No one gets to love like this. No one gets to be loved like this. It’s rare, and it’s beautiful, and it’s a gift to be unwrapped and savoured every single day. Which exactly what the two of you have done.

The minute Jake had kissed you, sitting on those bar stools, orange peel filling the air with the scent of a promise, the two of you had become inseparable.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

After every late night shift at The Hard Deck, Jake would be waiting for you, leaning against the back door with a smirk on his face that said he knew something you didn’t. He’d pull you in to him, press his chest against yours, and inhale, as if it was the first breath he’d taken all day. Then he’d push you up against the side of the bar and kiss you stupid, until you both felt drunker on love than any alcohol could ever manage. He’d pull away and beam at you with that million dollar smile of his, before slipping his hand into yours and walking you the scenic route home, just so he could have an extra 10 minutes in your presence.

This routine was a daily occurrence, until one evening, you decided the fleeting kisses weren’t enough. He walks you home, right up to your front door, and presses his lips to yours in a goodbye. Just as he goes to turn on his heel, you grab him by his belt loops and pull him closer.

“Don’t go,” you whisper against his mouth. “Need you to love me a little more.”

His eyes blow wide, and for a split second he looks like a deer in headlights. Then, regaining his composure, he finds his confidence again.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Yeah, Jake,” you sigh, still millimetres from his lips. “Want to feel you.”

How can he say no to that, when you’re saying his name so pretty?

He shakes his head, grinning from ear to ear. Placing his hand gently on your throat, he murmurs,

“Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Been waiting my whole life for you.”

He opens the front door behind you and walks you backwards into your house. You don’t make it more than 3 steps inside before he has your shirt over your head, kicking his shoes off at the same time.

“Don’t know how I lived without this. Can’t get enough,” he tells you. He’s looking at you so intently, you feel the sudden urge to burst into tears. The love you have for each other is filling the room, making it hard to breathe. It surrounds you, fills your lungs, makes you feel like you’re both floating. He pulls you back to his lips as if you’re his oxygen, his life source, his sanity.

“Fuck,” he murmurs. “I want to tell you that I love you, but it doesn’t feel like enough.”

“Enough?” you question.

“Love isn’t a big enough word. It doesn’t even begin to describe whatever it is I’m feeling. I’m going crazy with it, sweetheart. I can’t breathe without you. I don’t want to.”

You exhale. It’s as if he’s read your mind.

“Love will have to do,” you tell him. “It’s the only word we have for now.”

He’s kissing you again, hands tangled in your hair, body pressing into yours. You’re vaguely aware that you’re both swaying, too in love to stand still. It’s thrumming though your veins, keeping you levitating above ground.

“It’s everything,” he says when he pulls back for air. “You’re everything.”

You figured that eventually, the electricity in your bones would calm down. That in time, the love would level out, and wouldn’t feel so all consuming.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

It’s been two years, and as you sit on the third floor balcony watching Jake dance with his nieces below you, you’re worried that you might spontaneously combust. The love has only got stronger with each passing day, lighting your world and guiding you through. Your body is alive with it – it’s like you’re invincible. Jake’s love is a shield, protecting you, like a forcefield.

He still can’t dance, though.

He’s picking up the youngest girl, Hailey, and spinning her around, throwing her up into the air as she squeals with delight. Of course, he then turns to Ava, and does the same to her, both of them revelling in being the centre of their Uncle Jake’s attention. He has that ability. When Jake’s focus is solely on you, it feels like you’re the only person in the world.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

That first day that Jake walked into The Hard Deck, he strolled over to the bar with the confidence of 10 men and ordered a beer from you. He gazed into your soul with those ocean blue eyes, and you could have sworn the rest of the room faded away. You’re still not sure if you were looking at each other for 5 seconds or 5 minutes. All you knew was that no one had ever been able to see you so transparently before. It was as if he was reading you like a book, with no judgment whatsoever. He saw you exactly as you were. And he loved you for it.

You’ve confessed to him the worst parts of yourself, your secrets, your desires, your worries, your shame, your hopes, your dreams – everything. And he listens. He watches you with those careful eyes, nods his head, asks all the right questions. He listens like there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be than talking to you. The rarity isn’t lost on you. This never happens to girls like you, you think. But that’s where you’re wrong. Because Jake Seresin loves you so much that sometimes it sweeps him off his feet. Sometimes, he has to hold onto something and steady himself because the force of his feelings for you sends him into a tailspin. The adrenaline of flying a plane is one thing, but that warmth he gets in his chest when you beam a smile at him is a complete other. No jet manoeuvre could ever give him the headrush that you do when you wink at him across a crowded room. Yes, Jake Seresin used to be a notorious ladies man – a player, a heartbreaker, a sneak out of bed before breakfast kind of guy.

But that’s because he was waiting for you. His whole life, he’s been waiting for you.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You’re so lost in your thoughts that it takes you a moment to come back to reality. When you do, you look down and realise that Jake is no longer on the dance floor. Hailey and Ava are back with their parents, the four of them dancing and spinning to the beat, laughing as they go. The blond hair, the blue eyes, the cheeky grins – it almost feels like a vision of the future. Jake looks just like his sister, and her daughters look just like her. You know the Seresin genes are strong – yours wouldn’t stand a chance.

The evening is beginning to settle. The sun is setting, and a slight breeze blows the trees. Everyone is still dancing, singing and laughing, and the sound of it floats upwards towards where you’re sat smiling through the balcony railings. You wish you had a camera – but you also know no photograph could ever capture the joy that radiates around this beautiful setting. The lights on the barn twinkle as the dusk creeps in, illuminating the faces of the people you love the most. Bradley, Natasha and Bob are dancing, if you can call it that, while Javy, Reuben and Mickey are stood a short distance away, smiling at them like idiots. If you could freeze time, you would. You’re not sure any moment will ever be as perfect as this one.

You feel his presence before you hear him. Warmth appears in the doorway behind you, and you know without looking that it’s Jake. You can smell the familiar scent of salt, sunshine, and sandalwood. The smell of home.

“Hi, Mrs Seresin.”

He hasn’t come into your eyeline yet, but you can hear the grin on his face. He can’t see it, but you’re wearing a matching one.

“Hi, husband.”

He steps onto the balcony, and wraps his strong arms around your middle, pressing his nose into the junction of your shoulder and inhaling.

“Fuck, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you calling me that.”

He scatters kisses along your shoulder, up your neck, and onto your cheek, chuckling as he feels you giggle against him. He turns you in his arms so you’re facing each other.

“Got worried for a sec. Thought maybe you’d bolted.”

He nudges his nose against yours, megawatt smile still plastered on his face.

“After I’d married you? What would be the point in that? If I was gonna run, I’d have done it before we said I do.”

He pinches your sides lightly, making you yelp, both of you laughing. The sound of it echoes through the air, the soundtrack to your evening.

“You okay?” he asks genuinely, eyes scanning over your face. The softness of it makes you want to melt.

“Of course I am. Just wanted to take a minute. Savour the moment, you know.”

He nods back at you, and presses his lips to yours. No matter how many times you kiss Jake, you can never get enough. You’re always begging each other for just one more. You’d stay here with your mouth on his forever if you could. You can only hope that when your time comes, you take your last breath with your lips pressed to his – a last image of your love.

“I brought you a gift,” he says when he pulls away.

He retreats into the room, and comes back with an orange in his hand. A bright, beautiful, bold ball of light in his palm. A promise.

A tear escapes your eye at the gesture. Oranges became something sacred to the both of you after that first one you shared on the bar of The Hard Deck. Neither of you can eat them in everyday life anymore. They’re solely reserved for special occasions, momentous moments.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

When Jake proposed to you in the dim light of your kitchen on a random Friday evening, you knew your answer immediately. You’d been dancing around, swaying in each other’s arms, when all of a sudden, he stopped moving and looked you dead in the eyes.

“Marry me,” he said with so much assurance it made you dizzy. Like he’d never been surer of anything.

“You are the love of my goddamn life, honey. I always thought soulmates were a thing of fiction, and then I walked into The Hard Deck that night and I just knew. You started peeling that orange that day and I just knew. I am going to love you for eternity – there’s no doubt about that. So, marry me. Marry me, baby.”

You jumped into his arms and kissed him so hard that the both of you fell to the floor, laughing on the cold kitchen tiles.

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes,” you replied between kisses.

He beamed at you with a grin so bright you were worried the lightbulbs were going to shatter. You were sure yours was just as sparkling.

Jake rose from his place on the ground, reaching up for something on the counter. A part of you wonders if it’s a ring, but then he produces something better. An orange. The brightest, ripest, most promising piece of fruit you’ve ever seen.

You split it while sitting on the kitchen tiles, drunk off each other, leaning into Jake’s side like you can’t get close enough. You’re convinced it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Now, Jake starts to peel the orange, before pausing and shrugging off his suit jacket. God, he looks so handsome in his tuxedo. You think he looks beautiful no matter what he wears, but there’s something about that man in a suit that makes your knees want to give out.

He places the jacket over your lap.

“Don’t want you getting orange juice on that pretty white dress,” he smiles, resuming his place next you.

He peels the fruit and splits it in half with practised precision. Almost like he’s done this before.

You eat your halves in silence. No words are needed. You love Jake, and Jake loves you, and today all of the people you both love most in the world got to watch you declare that to each other. And now here you are, sharing an orange with the man you’re going to share oranges with for eternity.

Jake Seresin is in love with you. Nothing else matters.

[stvnmvrsh]

wish you'd ask me - matt maltese

Valentine's Day was inescapable, it seemed. It was just another cash-grabbing holiday, but It's all everyone at school's been talking about for the past few weeks. School announcements over purchasing Valentine's grams, holiday bake sales, and the student council asking for volunteers to decorate accordingly. He's been dragged everywhere from the store to the mall, even to the shopping center by his various friends, each of them trying to find the perfect cards and gifts. He thought everyone was a fool scrambling around like wriggling worms. He'd already bought a pack of Terrence and Phillip Valentine cards and hastily written them all out for his friends. He suddenly found himself a hypocrite when Kenny offhandedly asked him a question.

"D'ya get anything for Kyle yet?" Kenny asked as he mashed the buttons on the controller.

They were sitting in Stan's living room on the couch playing Mortal Kombat for the nth time. Stan flushed hard, his Neptune eyes not leaving the screen. Ever since Kenny's deduced Stan's major crush on Kyle, he'd been teasing him about it to some degree. But of course, he'd drummed it up quite a bit recently because of the nature of the holiday.

"Quit your cheap tricks, Ken. I almost got you!"

"That's real cute, Stan. Forreal though."

Stan scoffed, rolling his eyes. "What about you? What are you getting Marj?" Stan could see him smile softly at the mention of his long-time girlfriend.

"I'm halfway through making her a paper bouquet of white roses. I've already got a Hello Kitty plushie picked out and a huge bag of peach ring gummies. Then, I'll take her someplace to eat."

"Fuck. You've got it figured out, huh?" Stan says glumly and tosses his controller to the side of the couch. Kenny's won.

"Scorpion wins!" The TV announces.

"Nice one." Stan offers his fist to Kenny.

Kenny smiles broadly and fistbumps him. "Gg, bruh."

"Y'know someone might confess to Kyle, right?" Kenny presses his back against the couch arm, tossing his feet into Stan's lap.

"If I were you, I'd get my shit together and ask him out before someone else does. I'd hate to see you regret it~" Kenny singsonged.

Stan's stomach dropped so far it touched his asshole. He hadn't thought of that.

"Fuuuuck." He whined, lightly punching at Kenny's mismatched sock-clad feet. The left one was white with a grey toe and heel. The other hit mid-calf and was green with marijuana leaves.

"Well, you could get him something that reminds you of him. Or maybe write him a nice letter along with some flowers. You could even bake him something. I'll help you if you want. " Kenny suggests while scrolling on his phone, squishing Stan's thighs with his feet.

Stan sprawled out further onto the couch and considered.

"S'okay. I'll figure it out soon." Stan replied, pulling his hat over his bleached strands, wondering how to successfully ask his best friend out.

---

Stan gawps at the red and pink hearts coating the walls. Glittery streamers were strung up and absurd posters depicting crude drawings of Eric as Cupid were plastered around. It looked like Valentine's Day exploded and no nook or cranny was spared. He could hear girls gossiping about their crushes and quiet whispers of boys betting on each other to get kissed by the end of the day.

"Woah, dude, who's that for?" Stan questions timidly as Kyle shoves a red, heart-shaped box into his locker.

"What? I don't know what you're talking about, Stan." Kyle feigns ignorance as he tries to compose himself, pushing his wire-framed glasses up his nose. Stan thought they were cute.

"No way. Someone gave it to you?" Stan looks at him, bewilderment on his face.

"Who's it for, Kyle?" Stan presses on, confused as to why he didn't want to answer.

"No one's, alright?" He groaned in embarrassment, blood rushing up his neck already. Before Stan could get another word in, the bell rang for class.

"Just drop it, okay? We have to go to class anyways, and I don't want to be late."

"Okay, bro, whatever you say," Stan holds two hands up in defeat.

"C'mon then." He takes Kyle's hand and pulls him along the hallway, failing to notice Kyle's lovesick smile.

"You're still coming over after work, right?" Kyle implored, mumbling at the back of Stan's head.

"Count on it."

It's hard to focus on Mr. Garrison's lesson on quadratic equations when Stan's stomach feels like a bunch of frogs jumping around.

He's always felt like this around Kyle. He was always happy to see him, the sight of this green hat was familiar, comforting. It made the glacial early mornings a little more tolerable. This morning, however, was a little different. Stan was dying to know who the box was for. The thought of Kyle giving his love away was hurting him. Furthering his distress was the thought of someone confessing to Kyle and him accepting.

Oh god. Stan thought, burying his head into his notebook.

---

Stan was relieved he didn't drop the vase of pink carnations due to his sweaty palms as the door swung open.

"For you, Sheila." Stan greeted her, presenting the flowers.

"Oh, goodness, Stan these are just beautiful! Thank you! Come inside, sweetheart, Kyle's just in his room." She smothered him a hug and ushered him inside. He almost wondered what it would be like to be her son-in-law, but he hastily shoved that thought from his mind.

He stepped inside, taking his sneakers off and setting them by the door. He said his hellos to Gerald and Ike before heading up the stairs to Kyle's room.

"Hey, dude." Stan poked his head through the door before opening it fully. Kyle's head lifted from his homework. The room was lit only by his green banker lamp and a vanilla-scented candle on his dresser.

"Hey Stan, how was work?"

"Pretty good. Someone adopted that golden retriever I was talking about last week." Stan replied. He'd been working part-time at the local pet shop.

"Aw, how nice. Glad they've found a home." Kyle's eyes were twinkling gems in the lamplight as he shoved his homework away. Stan wishes he could ogle at them all day long.

"You're nicer." Kyle's head snapped to him, wondering if his ears were damaged, if he really heard him right.

Stan thrust his hand into his coat pocket before he could weasel out.

"I got something for you. I know it's a little late, but I didn't want Cartman to see it. Happy Valentine's Day."

Abashedly, he handed him a thin, rectangular box.

"Holy fuck, Stan, you didn't have to! The card you gave me in class is enough for me."

Stan stayed silent as Kyle's fingers traced around the black crushed velvet. He opened the box and let out a soft gasp. It was beautiful. A 14k gold Star of David pendant. It was shaped like a coin, the star embedded in the center. The round edge was braided like a rope. The chain was was a thin cuban-link. Kyle was at a loss for words. He quickly swiped at his eyes, not wanting the tears to drop.

"Flip it over." Stan urged.

"SM & KB?" Kyle's voice trembled as he traced the engraving on the delicate surface. He refused to blink, he didn't want the tears that were stored to cascade down his cheeks.

"Us." Stan finished as he walked over, taking the pendant from his hands. He twirled Kyle around in his office chair.

"May I?"

"Please."

Kyle felt Stan's fingertips dance at the nape of his neck, and his breath caught in his throat. Stan made sure to keep his touch sparse and gentle, in fear he might scare him away.

"I got it because it reminded me of you," Stan confessed, remembering Kenny's various suggestions. "I thought it'd look nice on you. I was sorely mistaken,"

A sound escaped Kyle's mouth as he whipped around with a hurt expression, but Stan quickly finished his sentence.

"You look stunning, Ky."

Kyle could have sworn he had died a kind death and was levitating towards heaven if not for Stan tucking a stray curl out of Kyle's vision. He was close enough to see the candle's flame reflecting in his eyes. Kyle always thought Stan's eyes were so blue it was fucking ridiculous. Like the ocean, he could feel the water pulling him under, a powerful spell.

Their noses were almost touching now. Kyle could smell the delicate rose scent of Stan's laundry detergent. Stan braced both his hands on the chair's armrests, effectively caging Kyle in. There was no way of escape, but he didn't mind.

"Kyle." Stan's breathy tone made his body tingle.

"Yes?"

"Recently, I found that I love you. But, I think I always have." Stan stepped back only to pull Kyle up from his seat. He grasped one of his hands and placed it up where his heart was.

"You feel it?" Stan's heart was thrumming under his fingers.

"I feel like it's always beating for you. I didn't know why my heart always went crazy when you said nice things to me, or when we'd have dinner with our families together, or when we'd go stargazing, just you and me. But, now I know it's because you're important to me and I want you in my life forever."

Kyle raised his unoccupied hand to cup Stan's cheek. "Promise you want me?" He thought his heart was beating just as fast as his, too.

"Want you? I need you."

Their yearning lips met, ravanous for one another. Stan's hands found themselved roaming underneath Kyle's loose Greatful Dead sweater, pulling his lithe waist as close as possible. Kyle's were threaded in Stan's hair, desperately, so much so that they didn't hear Sheila come in.

"I bought you boys some cookies-" She started, but she was frozen mid sentence, astonished.

"MA!" "Oh shit!" The two exclaimed, flying apart from themselves like they were burned.

Guilt and embarassment were clear to see on their faces, Sheila saw quite well even in the dimly lit room.

There was a lenthy stillness in the room that felt like forever when really it was more like a minute. Stan refused to look at anything but the floor, Kyle was trying to ge Stan to look at him, and Sheila was looking at them both. She decided to break the silence.

"Do you boys need condoms as well or-"

"Ma!" They were all in varying degrees of embarrasment and apology.

"We can talk about this whenever you're ready, bubie." She said patiently, giving her son a peck on the forhead. She gave Stan a knowing smile and set the plate of chocolate chip cookies on Kyle's desk, leaving the room. It was just the two of them again.

They examined eachother, both smiling ear to ear. No words were needed as Kyle grabbed two cookies, one for him and the other for Stan. They were eating the cookies sitting on his bed when Kyle remembered.

"Oh!" Kyle went over to his backpack and rummaged a bit before he pulled out the red box. He held it out to Stan.

"For me?" Stan was dumbfounded, cookie crumble on the corner of his mouth.

Kyle giggled and rolled his eyes, "Yes, dumbass, now open it!"

Stan couldn't fucking believe this. God, he's perfect. Stan was ready to thank every god for Kyle. In the heart-shaped box was a golden chain bracelet. It had two charms; one was a heart with a key hole shape in the middle, another was the left size of a heart.

He thought he could conbust into tears at any moment. He looked towards Kyle who beamed at him and held up his right arm. He pulled his sleeve down to reveal another gold chain bracelet. A key charm and the right side of a heart to match with his own.

"They're magnets," Kyle bought their bracelets together and the two halves connected forming a full heart.

"My other half." Stan grew teary, interlocking their hands.

"You're so sappy." Kyle said before kissing him again.

Valentine's Day was inescapable, it seemed. It was just another cash-grabbing holiday, but It's all everyone at school's been talking about for the past few weeks. School announcements over purchasing Valentine's grams, holiday bake sales, and the student council asking for volunteers to decorate accordingly. He's been dragged everywhere from the store to the mall, even to the shopping center by his various friends, each of them trying to find the perfect cards and gifts. He thought everyone was a fool scrambling around like wriggling worms. He'd already bought a pack of Terrence and Phillip Valentine cards and hastily written them all out for his friends. He suddenly found himself a hypocrite when Kenny offhandedly asked him a question.

"D'ya get anything for Kyle yet?" Kenny asked as he mashed the buttons on the controller.

They were sitting in Stan's living room on the couch playing Mortal Kombat for the nth time. Stan flushed hard, his Neptune eyes not leaving the screen. Ever since Kenny's deduced Stan's major crush on Kyle, he'd been teasing him about it to some degree. But of course, he'd drummed it up quite a bit recently because of the nature of the holiday.

"Quit your cheap tricks, Ken. I almost got you!"

"That's real cute, Stan. Forreal though."

Stan scoffed, rolling his eyes. "What about you? What are you getting Marj?" Stan could see him smile softly at the mention of his long-time girlfriend.

"I'm halfway through making her a paper bouquet of white roses. I've already got a Hello Kitty plushie picked out and a huge bag of peach ring gummies. Then, I'll take her someplace to eat."

"Fuck. You've got it figured out, huh?" Stan says glumly and tosses his controller to the side of the couch. Kenny's won.

"Scorpion wins!" The TV announces.

"Nice one." Stan offers his fist to Kenny.

Kenny smiles broadly and fistbumps him. "Gg, bruh."

"Y'know someone might confess to Kyle, right?" Kenny presses his back against the couch arm, tossing his feet into Stan's lap.

"If I were you, I'd get my shit together and ask him out before someone else does. I'd hate to see you regret it~" Kenny singsonged.

Stan's stomach dropped so far it touched his asshole. He hadn't thought of that.

"Fuuuuck." He whined, lightly punching at Kenny's mismatched sock-clad feet. The left one was white with a grey toe and heel. The other hit mid-calf and was green with marijuana leaves.

"Well, you could get him something that reminds you of him. Or maybe write him a nice letter along with some flowers. You could even bake him something. I'll help you if you want. " Kenny suggests while scrolling on his phone, squishing Stan's thighs with his feet.

Stan sprawled out further onto the couch and considered.

"S'okay. I'll figure it out soon." Stan replied, pulling his hat over his bleached strands, wondering how to successfully ask his best friend out.

Stan gawps at the red and pink hearts coating the walls. Glittery streamers were strung up and absurd posters depicting crude drawings of Eric as Cupid were plastered around. It looked like Valentine's Day exploded and no nook or cranny was spared. He could hear girls gossiping about their crushes and quiet whispers of boys betting on each other to get kissed by the end of the day.

"Woah, dude, who's that for?" Stan questions timidly as Kyle shoves a red, heart-shaped box into his locker.

"What? I don't know what you're talking about, Stan." Kyle feigns ignorance as he tries to compose himself, pushing his wire-framed glasses up his nose. Stan thought they were cute.

"No way. Someone gave it to you?" Stan looks at him, bewilderment on his face.

"Who's it for, Kyle?" Stan presses on, confused as to why he didn't want to answer.

"No one's, alright?" He groaned in embarrassment, blood rushing up his neck already. Before Stan could get another word in, the bell rang for class.

"Just drop it, okay? We have to go to class anyways, and I don't want to be late."

"Okay, bro, whatever you say," Stan holds two hands up in defeat.

"C'mon then." He takes Kyle's hand and pulls him along the hallway, failing to notice Kyle's lovesick smile.

"You're still coming over after work, right?" Kyle implored, mumbling at the back of Stan's head.

"Count on it."

It's hard to focus on Mr. Garrison's lesson on quadratic equations when Stan's stomach feels like a bunch of frogs jumping around.

He's always felt like this around Kyle. He was always happy to see him, the sight of this green hat was familiar, comforting. It made the glacial early mornings a little more tolerable. This morning, however, was a little different. Stan was dying to know who the box was for. The thought of Kyle giving his love away was hurting him. Furthering his distress was the thought of someone confessing to Kyle and him accepting.

Oh god. Stan thought, burying his head into his notebook.

Stan was relieved he didn't drop the vase of pink carnations due to his sweaty palms as the door swung open.

"For you, Sheila." Stan greeted her, presenting the flowers.

"Oh, goodness, Stan these are just beautiful! Thank you! Come inside, sweetheart, Kyle's just in his room." She smothered him a hug and ushered him inside. He almost wondered what it would be like to be her son-in-law, but he hastily shoved that thought from his mind.

He stepped inside, taking his sneakers off and setting them by the door. He said his hellos to Gerald and Ike before heading up the stairs to Kyle's room.

"Hey, dude." Stan poked his head through the door before opening it fully. Kyle's head lifted from his homework. The room was lit only by his green banker lamp and a vanilla-scented candle on his dresser.

"Hey Stan, how was work?"

"Pretty good. Someone adopted that golden retriever I was talking about last week." Stan replied. He'd been working part-time at the local pet shop.

"Aw, how nice. Glad they've found a home." Kyle's eyes were twinkling gems in the lamplight as he shoved his homework away. Stan wishes he could ogle at them all day long.

"You're nicer." Kyle's head snapped to him, wondering if his ears were damaged, if he really heard him right.

Stan thrust his hand into his coat pocket before he could weasel out.

"I got something for you. I know it's a little late, but I didn't want Cartman to see it. Happy Valentine's Day."

Abashedly, he handed him a thin, rectangular box.

"Holy fuck, Stan, you didn't have to! The card you gave me in class is enough for me."

Stan stayed silent as Kyle's fingers traced around the black crushed velvet. He opened the box and let out a soft gasp. It was beautiful. A 14k gold Star of David pendant. It was shaped like a coin, the star embedded in the center. The round edge was braided like a rope. The chain was a thin Cuban link. Kyle was at a loss for words. He quickly swiped at his eyes, not wanting the tears to drop.

"Flip it over." Stan urged.

"SM & KB?" Kyle's voice trembled as he traced the engraving on the delicate surface. He refused to blink, he didn't want the tears that were stored to cascade down his cheeks.

"Us." Stan finished as he walked over, taking the pendant from his hands. He twirled Kyle around in his office chair.

"May I?"

"Please."

Kyle felt Stan's fingertips dance at the nape of his neck, and his breath caught in his throat. Stan made sure to keep his touch sparse and gentle, in fear he might scare him away.

"I got it because it reminded me of you," Stan confessed, remembering Kenny's various suggestions. "I thought it'd look nice on you. I was sorely mistaken,"

A sound escaped Kyle's mouth as he whipped around with a hurt expression, but Stan quickly finished his sentence.

"You look stunning, Ky."

Kyle could have sworn he had died a kind death and was levitating towards heaven if not for Stan tucking a stray curl out of Kyle's vision. He was close enough to see the candle's flame reflecting in his eyes. Kyle always thought Stan's eyes were so blue it was fucking ridiculous. Like the ocean, he could feel the water pulling him under, a powerful spell.

Their noses were almost touching now. Kyle could smell the delicate rose scent of Stan's laundry detergent. Stan braced both his hands on the chair's armrests, effectively caging Kyle in. There was no way of escape, but he didn't mind.

"Kyle." Stan's breathy tone made his body tingle.

"Yes?"

"Recently, I found that I love you. But, I think I always have." Stan stepped back only to pull Kyle up from his seat. He grasped one of his hands and placed it up where his heart was.

"You feel it?" Stan's heart was thrumming under his fingers.

"I feel like it's always beating for you. I didn't know why my heart always went crazy when you said nice things to me, or when we'd have dinner with our families together, or when we'd go stargazing, just you and me. But, now I know it's because you're important to me and I want you in my life forever."

Kyle raised his unoccupied hand to cup Stan's cheek. "Promise you want me?" He thought his heart was beating just as fast as his, too.

"Want you? I need you."

Their yearning lips met, ravenous for one another. Stan's hands found themselves roaming underneath Kyle's loose Grateful Dead sweater, pulling his lithe waist as close as possible. Kyle's were threaded in Stan's hair, desperately, so much so that they didn't hear Sheila come in.

"I bought you boys some cookies-" She started, but she was frozen mid-sentence, astonished.

"MA!" "Oh shit!" The two exclaimed, flying apart from themselves like they were burned.

Guilt and embarrassment were clear to see on their faces, Sheila saw quite well even in the dimly lit room.

There was a lengthy stillness in the room that felt like forever when really it was more like a minute. Stan refused to look at anything but the floor, Kyle was trying to get Stan to look at him, and Sheila was looking at them both. She decided to break the silence.

"Do you boys need condoms as well or-"

"Ma!" They were all in varying degrees of embarrassment and apology.

"We can talk about this whenever you're ready, bubie." She said patiently, giving her son a peck on the forehead. She gave Stan a knowing smile and set the plate of chocolate chip cookies on Kyle's desk, leaving the room. It was just the two of them again.

They examined each other, both smiling ear to ear. No words were needed as Kyle grabbed two cookies, one for him and the other for Stan. They were eating the cookies and sitting on his bed when Kyle remembered.

"Oh!" Kyle went over to his backpack and rummaged a bit before he pulled out the red box. He held it out to Stan.

"For me?" Stan was dumbfounded, cookie crumbles on the corner of his mouth.

Kyle giggled and rolled his eyes, "Yes, dumbass, now open it!"

Stan couldn't fucking believe this. God, he's perfect. Stan was ready to thank every god for Kyle. In the heart-shaped box was a golden chain bracelet. It had two charms; one was a heart with a keyhole shape in the middle, another was the left side of a heart.

He thought he could combust into tears at any moment. He looked towards Kyle who beamed at him and held up his right arm. He pulled his sleeve down to reveal another gold chain bracelet. A key charm and the right side of a heart to match with his own.

"They're magnets," Kyle bought their bracelets together and the two halves connected forming a full heart.

"My other half." Stan grew teary, interlocking their hands.

"You're so sappy," Kyle said before kissing him again.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Lt. Jake “Hangman” Seresin—SFW Alphabet | Top Gun Maverick Headcanon

Link to my Top Gun Masterlist

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Jake is very affectionate when it comes to you—let’s be honest, physical touch is his love language. He’s always wanting to hold you, kiss you, run his fingers along your back or waist. The man is obsessed with you and he loves to show it off. Best believe that when y’all go out his hand is holding yours, pulling you to sit in his lap and always feeling his touch on you—it’s always his way of showing you’re off limits to other wondering eyes.

B = Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

No sugarcoating it, you and Jake butt heads in the beginning. You could not stand his arrogance and egotistical nature, and the blonde made it his mission to get under your skin. It honestly posed as a challenge for Jake and found himself looking forward to your bickering and trading light insults. “Take a picture it lasts longer, Bagman.” *pulls out phone and snaps picture* “Wait—are you fucking serious—?” “You said to take a picture, baby cakes.” “Do not call me that, Ken doll.”

The friendship between you two would be a sudden thing brought on by either a close call in training or one of you taking the banter to far and leading to one (probably Jake) apologizing. It would be a truce sort a say, that eventually blossomed into mutual respect and soon turning to each other as someone to rely on.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Does he like to cuddle? Is that even a question?

Hangman will not let you go and will complain if he has to when you cuddle. It’s the thing he looks forward to most after coming home from work so why you deprive him of such. You barely even get the chance to greet him half the time cause he’s popping his happy self on top of you from your spot on the couch. “Play with my hair, darlin’, please?” “So demanding, Seresin.”

Jake also loves to be the big spoon and have you tucked under his arms with your head resting on his chest. He will run his fingers through your scalp which ignites a low moan from you. The sound has him smirking….and may lead to something more depending on how the mood is.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Never did Hangman believe he would ever settle down. Was it something he longed for? Yes, but his reputation and career made that desire difficult. There was a time he was fine with being a bachelor and living life on the edge when it came to romance, but then he met you and it all changed. Coming home from work and seeing you there waiting for him sparked all the need and want for stability and having a future with the person he loved. And that person was you.

okay so his cooking needs some work because he was so used to eating like a college student when it was just himself. Eventually Hangman got better and making meals and often called his mother for advice which she gladly gave. The first time he surprised you with a home cooked meal you literally jumped in his arms and had him nearly drop the plate he was about to hand to you. Luckily Hangman has great reflexes ;)

Cleaning, Jake is actually good at. The military drilled into him that everything must be clean and sharp so there is no way your home with Hangman is anything but spotless. His sock drawer is even organized by color and length. Now on occasion (like weekends or vacation) you two will slack on the chores, but come Sunday everything is in order and there is not a speck of dust in sight.

E = Ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

It would kill him to end things with you. Honest to God Jake would rather you end things because seeing you sad breaks his heart into pieces. Part of him would fear would see him how he’s always been perceived as when in reality it was far from it. There would not be someone else if you accused him (which would put another nail to the heart if you did) it would simply be because he felt you deserved better than him. “I’m not good for you—you deserve so much more than me—.” “You don’t get to decide that for me, Jake!”

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

It terrified him, but he was absolutely sure he wanted to marry you once he realized how much he loved you. Marriage, like children, would be something you two discussed early on to make sure you both were on the same page. Being in the military there is already that preconceived notion that he would haul you to the court house the second you said yes but Jake would want to go at your pace. If you were like ‘Let’s just do it—call the Squad and they can witness. We’ll have a traditional ceremony later,’ then yeah your ass would be in the car and on your way to the nearest courthouse. But if you wanted to be engaged for awhile and do the whole process of planning, then Jake would be there every step of the way. “I can’t wait to put a ring on that finger—no matter how long I have to wait. I’m yours forever, darlin’.”

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Honestly Jake was a lost cause when it came to feelings and handling it with others. There would be times where he would have no clue how to help you and it was because he had never experienced the sort of love and intimacy he has with you. In the beginning he would be hesitant and ask what you wanted from him, and soon it would grow to Jake knowing exactly how to be there for you without needing any sense of direction.

H = Hugs (do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

remember, physical touch is his love language and we’ve established this man is obsessed with you. So when it comes to hugs, Jake is all over you. If you come to visit him at work he’s sweeping you off your feet, if you’re crying and in need of comfort, he’s holding you tightly to let you release your emotions and often he hugs you just because he can. “Darlin’ come’re.” “What is it—oof!” *intense hugging activated* “That’s better.”

I = I love you (how fast do they say the L-word?)

surprisingly, Jake is the first to say he loves you. His reputation as a playboy and flirt had him fear you’d never see him on that feel despite having been involved for some time. But that didn’t stop himself from developing serious feelings for you. In fact, he was so obvious that the Dagger Squad were making bets on when he would finally get the balls to say it. “Bet you he’ll do it next time he gets plastered.” “Nah, Hangman would make it special—.” “This is Hangman we’re talking about, Bob.”

It would probably be several months before he worked up the courage to say it and when he did you surprised him by throwing a smirk as you said, “Took you long enough,” before bringing him into a kiss.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

OH yes he does. His pride and ego will never have him verbally say it but you can tell by the way his eyes twitch or jaw clenches when he catches another person flirting with you. Of course Jake trusts you, but his thing is when you two have made it painfully obvious you’re together and someone still tries to fuck around and find out how far they can take it.

If someone is getting too close to you, he will simply slip in between and either look the person up and down, kiss you full on with a grab to your ass, or be like “try someone else, pal. This one’s mine.” Your obviously amused which he ignores half the time—cause again, that ego—because all you do is tease him. Thankfully there hasn’t been much escalation where a fight started, but there was once a weekend where both you and Jake were warned by Penny when y’all were on your third attempted bar fight because a bitch tried to throw her drink in your face and some creep sized up Jake when you rejected the dude’s advances.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Kisses are freaky with Hangman. Mans loves going to town with his tongue where it’s basically a one-v-one battle against who will be crowned the French kissing champion. The first time you kissed he kept it sweet and gentlemanly, but once y’all became official you best believe he was a man starved for your lips. “Babe, I’m trying to read.” “But you’re so addicting and I need at least five kisses before I’m satisfied.” “You’re a menace.”

other than your lips, Hangman’s favorite place to kiss you is your neck. Oh how he loves to hear your little whimpers and moans when he brushes his mouth over your sweet spot before gently nipping it between his teeth. Adding to that he likes to kiss the area just below your ear, loving how you shudder against him. For Jake, he loves when you kiss the top of his cheekbone. It’s often a sweet, non-sexual gesture to show your love for him. Whenever he has a hard day at work his favorite thing to do is crawl into your arms, vent about his frustration and feel you lay your lips on his cheekbone.

L = Little ones (how are they around children?)

Jake is great with children, which again would surprise those around him save for his family. He is an uncle to a bunch of nieces and nephews whom he looks forward to seeing every time he takes a trip home. The man is always present, listening to the kids when they tell ridiculous stories or want to play a game as simple as hopscotch.

With his job, having kids would be something you two talked about early in your relationship. As much as he would love a mini him/ mini you, or adopting a child to raise together, Jake would want it to be when his career is at a stable point and he could be there for his kids. If you were not interested in kids Jake would respect it and say, “hey, I’m happy as I am being an uncle to those little rascals,” but if you were, then the second he’s able to get something permanent then he would be on board whenever you are ready to take that step.

M = Morning (how are mornings spent with them?)

As a Naval aviator, Jake is out the door bright and early every morning save for weekends. His day often has him waking up at the ass crack of dawn and days where he has PT Jake will be up at practically 4am. Sometimes, depending on your job, you’ll catch him in the morning to share a quick cup of coffee or tea and a kiss goodbye before you go your separate ways. On weekends and when Jake has his day off, he may sleep in but will still be up early as his military career has instilled it in him to be an early riser. With that he normally will go for a run before retuning just as you’re waking up and the two of you will have breakfast together and discuss your plans for the day.

N = Night (how are nights spent with them?)

Usually Jake returns home at a reasonable time. On those days you two will spend time chilling, making out (maybe even more) and cooking dinner together before doing your nighttime routine. The times where his workday runs overtime, Jake would call you in advance and often pick up some takeout for the both of you. He’s often exhausted so after you eat the man is in the shower and then knocking out cold on the bed.

On weekends where you two can relish in some quality time, Jake will plan for you to take a night out on the town whether it be going to a movie, late walks on the beach, or meeting up with some friends at the bar. Jake wants to have you to himself at least one night and since Sunday is reserved for prepping for the upcoming week, Jake will reserve your Friday nights with your friends and Saturdays for yourselves. Sometimes you’ll meet up with the squad back to back if there is a special occasion like a birthday or banquet, but Jake prefers the nights where you two can have a night dedicated to loving each other like your the only people in the world.

[callsign-phoenix]

hiii! can you do a headcanon about hangman and the admirals (iceman) daughter dating?

Hello love, thank you so much for the request!

A warning, there’s some cursing in here and hinting at smut.

-you’re the Admiral’s daughter, which means you’re basically untouchable or half of the Navy will hunt down the person trying to woo you

-which is why your dad had told you Navy men or women are off limits, he wouldn’t want you to get hurt

-you’re his daughter and always will be, he can’t imagine you behaving in an adult manner, going out on dates and more

-you’re out with friends in a bar when you see a group of people in uniform enter, one of them looking like a Ken doll

-he’s too attractive so you know he’s a player, but you’re curious and want some fun

-coincidentally he spots you at the bar and picks you as his date of the evening, and the two of you shamelessly flirt with each other

-Hangman has literally met his match, you’re both incredibly flirty and you don’t back down

-he promises you the best night of your life but honestly it’s also the best night of his life, and against his rules he asks for your number

-you know exactly what you’re doing when you type your full name as your contact info, and the moment he searches for your first name in his contacts to text you the next day he’s in shock

-he needs a moment, running a hand through his hair and muttering a small ‘fuck’ as he stares at your name

-but in contrast to what you thought he texts you, and you go out again

-it’s so easy to be with Jake and you have an unspoken agreement that this is just fun, until you simultaneously start falling for each other

-neither of you talk about it either but you start becoming more loving towards each other, until you show up in public together, you meeting his friends and such

-it’s risky business because people know you, they know who you are

-everyone knows Hangman is trouble, and when they see Kazansky’s daughter with him all of them take in a breath, not believing their eyes

-but the way he grips your hips or puts his hand on your jaw to get your attention says it all, Hangman has finally found someone to come home to

-you can’t hide the fact that you’re in a relationship from your dad anymore and you tell him, his heart swelling with happiness as he sees how happy your boyfriend/girlfriend makes you

-he asks you to bring them over for dinner and you do so, not warning him that your boyfriend is in the Navy

-Jake doesn’t know what to wear but he chooses civilian clothes, nevertheless the dog tags around his neck say all that needs to be said

-your dad is civil when you introduce him but when Jake says what he does for a living the polite smile leaves your father’s face, and he even uses his voice, no matter if it hurts to speak or not

-“I specifically said no Navy men, what was so difficult to understand?!” he whisper shouts, but your mum is there to calm him down

-“Look at them, baby, look how happy they are. Just remember when we were their age, and we turned out well, didn’t we?”

-Jake instinctively pulls you closer because he’s definitely in trouble, his superior is angry at him, but he definitely won’t let you go

-the moment your dad sees Jake’s hand caressing your side in worry and his nose buried in your hair he can’t feel angry anymore

-he knows how he felt about Sarah, and he respects the bravery it took Jake to come to his superior’s door and tell them he’s in love with his daughter

-Jake has your father’s respect and blessing, and he’s there all the way for you when your father dies

tagging: @wildbornsiren @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @hederasgarden @letsfvckingdance @shadeds-library @a-reader-and-a-writer @yespolkadotkitty @whateverbagman @neptunes-curse @sweetheartlizzie07 @top-gun-rooster @kyramaximoff @iloveprettyboysblog @ateliefloresdaprimavera @imjess-themess @littlebadariell @angstyjellybean @marchingicenotes7 @thelifeofthelifeofme @midget713 @dannyramirezwife @gspenc @adorephina @gigisimsonmars @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @bespinnn @softromantist @malindacath @peaches-1999 @oliviah-25 @natasharomanoffisbaebby @luckyladycreator2 @blue-aconite @tipsykeen @airedale17 @iangiemae @dempy @princessofglitterland @teti-menchon0604 @butaneandthebeast @shadeds-library @katesmadness @call-sign-hurricane

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[ampintherain]

I’m Yours:

Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Chapter IV

Y/N is Kenny Ortega’s ‘niece’ after going through a rough breakup, Kenny decides to fly her over to stay with him, will her broken heart mend?

(Female Reader, NO SMUT, Romance, Friendship, THIS IS MY FIRST EVER FANFIC/IMAGINE, I hope it’s good, Kenny is lifelong family friend so reader calls him Uncle Kenny. I’m British so the writing is going to be British so like ‘mum’ not ‘mom’ yanno?)

TW- swearing. mentions of alcohol, drugs & divorce

꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂

Y/N

“Doll, you ready to go?” Kenny asked as he shrugged on his coat, we had been at Tori’s for a good three hours and I could see Kenny was getting tired and we did have a really long day tomorrow, I nodded at my uncle happily before bidding farewell to my new found friends. I found it quite strange as to how quickly they had befriended me and made me feel more than welcome- Charlie especially, I mean throughout the day he asked me if I was alright and he encouraged me to share my ideas with Uncle Kenny, it really was strange.

“See you tomorrow Y/n” Owen chirped, pulling me in for a quick hug, I was soon passed round through the group of friends each of them giving me a tight hug which I gladly reciprocated, I waved everyone a final goodbye before Kenny and I left Tori’s apartment and made our way back to the car.

As Uncle Kenny drove through the streets of Vancouver, I paid most attention to the lights displayed throughout, I watched as birds flew through the sky and listened to the soft sound of the radio, “you okay Y/n?” Uncle Kenny questioned,

“Hm?” I said, as the questioned tore me out of my unknown daydream, I turned to face my uncle Kenny and before he could repeat himself, my brain managed to process what he originally asked “oh oh yeah, I’m fine Uncle Kenny, just sight seeing” I laughed quietly,

“Okay, just making sure, I’m worried about you...” Kenny admitted, I had a feeling that he was but he just didn’t want to draw attention to me and my situation, I have always been very good at hiding my emotions it came from years and years of being told that my emotions and the way I felt weren’t ‘necessary’ and that I shouldn’t feel the way I did- in the end, I decided to no longer tell anyone my problems but deal with them myself, battling through the pain as a lone warrior, I didn’t even tell Kenny what was going on, I built up layers of walls around me to protect myself and make it seem like I was this strong, capable woman. “You’re only 19, Y/n, I know you’re strong but... I just want you to know that I am here should you ever need me” I nodded in response, worried that if I did speak, my voice would give way and I would be revealed as this weak character, I’ve already cried once today and I’m not planning on crying anymore, not in front of Kenny at least.

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Kenny locked the door behind me as we both entered the apartment, “do you want a drink or anything Uncle Kenny?” I questioned as I made my way into the kitchen, opening the fridge and taking out the carton of orange juice,

“No you’re alright Star, I’m just going to head to bed, I’ll wake you up at 7 alright?” He assured me, I nodded as I sipped at my juice, I looked at the digital clock placed on the side- 12:00am, luckily I had sorted through all of my clothes before going to set and again before going to Tori’s because, quite honestly, I hadn’t the energy to do much at this point, I watched as my uncle wandered into his room, closing the door behind him. I let out a deep breath, the thoughts of a few nights ago coming back into my memory, replaying itself there, why wasn’t I good enough? I did absolutely everything I could for him... I loved him with everything I had... why wasn’t I good enough?

I kept asking myself, it was truly lost on me, I didn’t see myself as this perfect girl, this perfect girlfriend but I knew what I did for him. I was there for him when his dad spiralled, turning to alcoholism and drug abuse, I was there whenever he called, whenever he showed up randomly at my house at 4 in the morning crying and looking for a cuddle, I made sure to visit him mum every Tuesday evening for dinner because Zac wanted to move out once his parents split, deciding to live with his grandparents instead. We were even thinking about moving in together... well him moving in with me as I had already had my own place at 18. That boy was my entire world for 3 years and the fact that he could throw it all away so easily, really hurt me, and I don’t think it was anything that I could understand ever.

The thought alone caused my heart to feel crushed, it felt like Zac had a hold of my heart and whenever I thought about it, he just squeezed my heart as hard as he possibly could, it felt like a gut wrenching type of pain, I wiped away the tears that I didn’t even realise were spilling quickly out of my eyes. I cleared my throat and drank the rest of my juice before making my way to bed, I changed into my grey cable knit sweater and my plaid shorts and clambered into the large double bed, snuggling into the comfort that the bed brought me before I let sleep take over me.

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“Rise and shine” Kenny said quietly into my bedroom, I groaned as I stretched in bed, “morning sleepyhead” he chuckled,

“Morning” I mumbled, scratching the back of my head, Kenny told me that we’d be leaving in 20 minutes, “okay, I’ll see you in 20” I smiled, sliding out of bed and heading into my closet, I grabbed my white tennis skirt, white shirt and dark blue sweater, I paired the outfit with white tennis socks and my white and blue Nike Jordan’s that Uncle Kenny bought me for Christmas. I placed my clothes on my bed and went for a quick shower, this time I dried my hair before chucking it up into a high ponytail, I brushed my teeth and did some light makeup again before changing and grabbing my phone off the side,

“Let’s go” I stated as I made my way over to Kenny,

“You look amazing” he smiled genuinely at me, I thanked him and we made our way back to the set of his new show.

“So... how did you sleep?” Kenny asked me,

“Oh really well thank you, that bed was huge, you could fit like five of me in there” I joked, just as my phone chimed, I looked down at the lit screen to see messages from the one person I didn’t want to hear from.

Zac- Hey, where are you? I came to your place to see you and you weren’t there...

I rolled my eyes and groaned internally before locking my phone and sinking into my seat, “what’s on your mind?” Uncle Kenny asked immediately, I swear it’s like this man lives in my brain. I turned my phone on vibrate just as another text came through,

“It’s nothing Uncle Kenny” I sighed, the man driving next to me simply hummed in response, he definitely didn’t believe me but I knew he wasn’t going to push for answers- he never did, he would always let me come to him if I needed and that was one of the things I loved most about him. I could feel my phone constantly vibrating in my hand whilst Kenny was driving, so I turned it on do not disturb just to try and escape it.

“Alright kiddo, we’ve arrived” Kenny said as he swiftly parked up, I went to unbuckle myself but Kenny stopped me, “you don’t have to tell me right now, but I am here, you know I won’t judge you like your parents” he explained, I sighed and leant over to rest my head on his arm,

“I know Uncle Kenny... it’s Zac, he texted me... I’m ignoring him though” I replied, he sighed and looked down at me, placing a kiss to the top of my head,

“You’re going to have to” Kenny started before I cut him off mid sentence,

“Message him at some point, I know I know” I sat back upright and unbuckled the seat before getting out the car, “come on” I sighed, putting back on my brave face before heading into the lot with Uncle Kenny in tow.

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Charlie

“Y/n!” I heard Sav yell from across the lot, I turned to see Y/n walking towards us, her arms linked with Kenny’s as he was talking and joking with her, I watched as she let out a quick laugh before shaking her head, probably at some corny joke that Kenny told. “We’re matching!” Sav exclaimed as Y/n got closer,

“So we are!” Y/n giggled, “but don’t you have to be in your Carrie costume?” She questioned, pointing at the costume trailer just a way behind us,

“We are rehearsing Wow today in costume” Kenny announced, this prompted Sav to scrunch her face and turn on her heels, grabbing Tori by her upper arm as they both ran to the costume trailer, “those girls” Kenny laughed, shaking his head, “I’m going to get some breakfast, do you want anything Y/n?” The girl shook her head, “you have to eat Star, I’ll get you a croissant okay?”

“If I have to eat, can you get me some blueberry pancakes?” Y/n questioned innocently, smiling up at her ‘uncle.’ Kenny simply nodded and walked over to catering to grab him and Y/n some breakfast. “Hey” Y/n said as she took a step closer to me, I looked down at her and smiled,

“Hey” I mirrored, “sleep well last night?” I asked, the girl nodded and started to walk down the lot, I naturally started to follow her, not wanting the conversation to end,

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever slept in a bed that big before” she giggled, causing my heart to skip a beat slightly, “how about you? Did you sleep well?” She questioned, looking up at me with her beautiful y/e/c eyes.

“Oh yeah, Owen and I left Tori’s a little while after you and Ken left, we grabbed some food and then just crashed as soon as we got home” I said simply, just as I mentioned Owen I saw him come out of his trailer dressed as Alex,

“You, Charles. Have to be in costume” he stated, pointing at me, I rolled my eyes before he shoo’d me away, I nodded slightly at Y/n as a way to say goodbye and she saluted me slightly which caused me to laugh before jogging up to costume.

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Y/N

“Why the long face?” Owen asked me as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders, “wassup Buttercup?” I bit the inside of my cheek and looked up at the blonde boy,

“It’s my ex” I stated plainly, “he messaged me this morning and I just...” I trailed off, not really knowing what to say, was I ignoring Zac because I hated him, or was I ignoring him because I was worried that if I did text him back, I would fall for him all over again? You can’t get over someone that quickly, no matter how much they hurt you... right?

“Don’t know what to say to him?” Owen answered for me, “what did he say?” He asked, I daren’t look at my phone again because I knew that he had probably texted more so I tried to remember what I saw at quick glance.

“It was something about why I wasn’t home and where I was” I remembered, sitting down on the small couch in the resting tent, my back against the arm rest and my legs tucked up to my chest, Owen sat down, facing me and mirroring my position, “I just don’t see why I have to tell him that anymore... he’s my ex y’know?” I vented, leaning my head back and closing my eyes.

“Hey, you shouldn’t let him get to you like that, it’s not cool... look, I’m pretty sure we have a day off tomorrow, why don’t you come over to mine and Charlie’s place and we can watch movies and pig out?” Owen offered, I lifted my head back up and nodded, it didn’t sound like the worst idea, in fact, it sounded like the best thing for me, I mean karaoke last night helped me a lot so maybe just a chilled day would help too?

“Yeah that sounds amazing actually” I smiled.

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“Okay you guys, Sav, Sacha, Tori, Mads and Jay you guys can all go home, thank you so much for your excellence today, you’re all amazing!” Uncle Kenny beamed with pride at his cast that he was dismissing for the day, we had just filmed 3 more scenes for the show and the cast had rehearsals for as many dances they could fit in today, the only thing left on the agenda was the hot dog scene, “now, I will see everyone at the next location? Y/n, you ready?” Kenny asked, I nodded as I felt a shiver run up my spine causing my body to visibly shake,

“Hey” I heard Charlie whisper, “you okay?” He questioned, staying within earshot of me,

“Yeah I’m good, just cold, I forgot a jacket and it was warm today... I kinda forgot how long today was” I laughed, slightly embarrassed about my sieve of a brain, although the presence of Charlie stood behind me seemed to keep me fairly warm, that is, until I felt him leave. I turned to see Owen looking behind him as Charlie darted off, “I’ll be one second” Charlie yelled loud enough for everyone to hear and wait for him.

“Where’s he going?” Jeremy asked, pointing behind him towards where Charlie had just disappeared to,

“I have... no idea” Owen sighed, shrugging his shoulders, “Y/n/n, do you know?” I shook my head,

“He just ran off, maybe he forgot something” I stated, just as Charlie came running back, handing me a brown corduroy jacket with a wool collar,

“Here, it has pockets too so you won’t have to keep holding your phone” he said, only slightly out of breath.

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Charlie

Y/n gently took the jacket from me, “oh... thanks” she said as a red tint reached her cheeks, she shrugged the jacket on and I couldn’t help but smile at how it looked on her, on me, it fit perfectly but on Y/n, it nearly swamped her, the sleeves hung so low only her fingertips could be seen and the length of the jacket went just above where her skirt ended. She looked adorable.

“Yeah.. yeah anytime” I replied, Y/n placed her phone in her pocket and started to walk towards Kenny,

“Hey, I’ve gotta talk to my Uncle Kenny about some things for the hot dog scene, I had some ideas but I’ll see you on location okay?” She said, not just to me, but to Owen and Jeremy as well, all three of us nodded and joined together so we could all walk out of the lot,

“You like her...” Jeremy stated, Owen nudged him slightly and rolled his eyes,

“I made that observation last night!” He said, “but yeah, you totally like her... it’s obvious”

“I just gave her my jacket, she said she was cold, I would’ve done the same for anybody, like Mads” I defended, “she did look really cute in it though” I admitted, Owen agreed with me which caused me to look at him sceptically,

“Before you get jealous and ask me, no I don’t like her, she’s just a friend” he answered before I even had a chance to ask the question, “oh by the way, she was talking to me about her ex today, something about how he messaged her and she doesn’t know what to say to him, she seemed really down so I invited her to come over tomorrow” Owen explained,

“Oh really? Okay cool” was all I could say, Jeremy soon decided to change the subject to running lines as he could see that I was becoming nervous at the fact that Y/n was coming over, I had no idea why the thought of it had my heart racing and my mind scattered but it did, there was something about Y/n that I couldn’t quite put my finger on but whatever it was drove me crazy about her.

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Y/N

We had just finished filming the final scene of the day- the hot dog scene and it was the longest scene ever, the amount of re-runs and developments on the scene was enough to drive anybody insane, I groaned slightly as I turned and sat on the seat that one of the crew members brought with them just as Kenny was wrapping the scene up. “Y/n, I’ve just got to do some paperwork and I’ll be right with you okay? I’m sure the boys will keep you company once they change” Kenny announced, to which I simply nodded, not having the energy to say anything or do anything else, I rubbed my eye as I pulled my phone out of Charlie’s jacket pocket, I looked down at the screen and saw the notification, I had 36 unread messages from Zac:

>Zac- hello? Y/n! Where are you?

>Zac- I’m worried about you...

>Zac- Y/n! Would you please just answer me...

>Zac- I went to the coffee shop, you weren’t there either, where have you run off to?

>Zac- look Y/n, I’m really sorry about what I did to you

>Zac- WTF! WHERE ARE YOU?!?

>Zac- you can’t possibly be giving me the silent treatment? Seriously.

>Zac- I didn’t realise you were so childish.

>Zac- I’m glad I cheated on you, you’re worthless

>Zac- wait no, I’m sorry I didn’t mean that I’m just worried about you.

The list went on and on, a mixture of emotions, I kept scrolling through the text screen until I saw the most recent text, delivered 1 minute ago,

>Zac- call me. Please.

I rolled my eyes, I couldn’t call him, I shouldn’t call him right? But alas, like muscle memory, I clicked on the call icon and there was his voice, “Y/n! Hey... how’re you?” All I did was sigh in response, I watched as the boys came out of the venue and into sight, they all waved at me before noticing I was on the phone, Owen and Jeremy dispersed whereas Charlie stayed, walking slowly towards me with a half-smile on his face, clearly worried about whether or not I wanted him to come closer.

“What do you want?” I said bluntly, “I’m not in the mood to hear your pathetic apologies Zac, you’re messages were ridiculous, you went from being apologetic to calling me worthless and saying that you were happy that you cheated on me!”

“Listen Y/n... I can’t explain” Zac began but I was in no mood to hear it,

“No you listen Zac, you don’t get to be sad, you don’t get to cry. You are the one who cheated remember? Or have you suddenly developed amnesia? You went behind my back and had this whole other relationship for 13 months... and on top of that, it was with Quinn! My best friend and you think I’m going to sit here and listen to your silly little apologies, no, you have another thing coming. We were together for 3 years and for a year of that you were with someone else, I was nothing but loyal to you, I was nothing but kind to you, I loved you so much and I thought that you would never hurt me, but I was wrong, you’re just a piece of shit Zac, you and Quinn deserve each other, you’re both snakes, you’re both pathetic and you both betrayed me. I dont want to hear from you again? Do I make myself clear?” I ranted down the phone, I never raised my voice, I kept calm, I wouldn’t let him know that he made me so angry that I wanted to scream and throw my phone into the road, no. I wouldn’t let him have that power over me.

“But Y/n- we’ve been through so much... Quinn doesn’t know me like you do... she’s not there for me like you do” Zac grovelled, I scoffed in response,

“Well isn’t that just a crying shame? You should’ve thought about that before you decided to go behind my back and fuck her, you should’ve thought about it before you decided to be unfaithful. Hey, I’ll make this easy for you, I’ll just block you on everything that way you have no way of contacting me. Goodbye Zac” I said as I abruptly hung up, giving Zac no chance to talk, I blocked his number and started to go through my social media, blocking him on everything that I had.

“Uh... you okay?” I heard a worried voice speak, I looked up to see those eyes that could only belong to Charlie, he tilted his head and looked at me with concern riddled all over his face, I placed my phone on my lap and rubbed my temples to try and reduce to incoming headache.

“Yeah... that was my ex” I stated the absolute obvious, unsure of what else to say, Charlie nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets before taking the seat next to me, he didn’t ask me to go on and explain but I felt like I could talk to him and so I did “you probably heard but he cheated on me, with my best friend”

“Yeah... yeah I did hear, look, Y/n, I know it probably won’t mean much but he really doesn’t deserve you and he isn’t worth your tears” he said calmly, placing his thumb on my cheek and gently brushed away the tears that I had no idea were slowly falling from my eyes, “by the sounds of it, he sounds like a dick and you were way too good for him” I laughed in response, “I’m being serious, Y/n, you’re gorgeous and kind and funny and insanely talented! I know it’s hard but you shouldn’t let a guy like that get to you...”

“Yeah I know... but he and I were together for so long, it just makes me feel like everything was a lie y’know? And like I can’t truly be loved by anyone” I admitted, hearing this Charlie stood up in front of me and held his hands out, “what...?” I questioned, he beckoned me to stand up before pulling me in for a hug,

“You? You can’t truly be loved? Y/n you’re one of the most lovable people I’ve ever met, everyone loves you here... I know that’s not the type of love you meant but trust me on this okay? You can very easily be loved” I pulled out of the hug slightly and Charlie lightly placed his hands on my face, looking deep into my eyes, he smiled slightly to himself causing me to become shy and look down, Charlie used his index finger to lift my head back up by my chin ever so gently, “who wouldn’t want to fall in love with you?”

💜thank you for reading💜

♡︎𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 : @thesweetestsinner , @ifilwtmfc , @ashleyleblancx , @chloepart03 , @obxflowr , @lukeys-giggle ♡︎

[cosmoshe]

📝+🍑 gimme some juicy stuff for little mac

LIL' MAC * hoh boy, don't fuck with this dude. figuratively, or literally. seriously, it's actually not too difficult to get 'em going, but he's not.. conventional? like, he really doesn't like people, generally. he's got a weird way to testin' your moxy, & that's if you can handle getting dragged off to some far off world to fight for the fate of the LIGHT. he really doesn't do the borin' type, at all. if you're not a god, some astral beast, some form of warrior from a far off time.. then why are you looking at him? if your name is not ike, then take a hike! no, really.. ike, hit up his dms. bring ryu, you guys can, uh, train. haha. ha...

smash is canon in his storyline, literally. he has been pulled into so much wild shit at this point, the dude will probably do it anywhere. also, like all verse kings with a raging fire in his gut, he will actually bend you backwards because he's pissed at everyone thinking he can't take charge. being 5'2 means shit when you can round-house kick ( yes, he can fucking kick ) you in the jaw & end your life, while also knocking you out with just the weight of his dick. yes, you read that line, no cap. he has knocked out D.K. with a mid-air summersault. take that, all you "sHiT aIr ChAmP" bitches - Mac, probably.

he's really big on fighting. seriously, he will tell you to put on the gloves, or the bands & 1v1. when you do lose, you're gonna see how this tiny giant takes you for a ride. if you K.O. during, he will sock you. it's happened before, he was pissed. also, he beat Ken, do not @ him, he will take your knees. they also kiss sometimes... somedays.. oh, & he's pretty into dudes, unless you're samus & down for a no-strings-attached hung manlet to use. he also learned to sock girls, mostly cause of samus, & because she's into getting smacked a lil', but you did not hear that from him.

[virtueangel]

limitless.

chapter one. 

wc: 2,034. original publish date: october 1, 2020.

Winter seems to drag on this year, pushing back Spring farther and farther until it steps off the chessboard of seasons completely. It's early April, but there is still snow piled up on the sidewalks, filling in the cracks of the concrete squares and melting into slush on the smooth surface. John F. Kennedy and Cleopatra walk down the sidewalk now, grasping hands dearly so as not to slip on the melted snow. Cleo is bundled up tightly in a black cardigan, John's varsity letterman jacket draped on top for extra warmth. She huddles close to the boy as she walks, trying to bask in some of the natural body heat wafting off of him. They like to walk in silence -- sometimes it's easier that way. Their questions don't have to be answered if they're never asked. But sometimes, the burden of carrying around the question is greater than the weight of hearing the answer.

"Why don't you ever take me on real dates, John?" Cleo asks in her shrill voice, almost whining.

"I don't know why you'd want me to, Cleo," he replies coolly, still grasping her hand. She wears elegant black gloves which hug her lean fingers fittingly. The cashmere is smooth and inviting against John's palm.

"Because some girls like romance, John."

"I thought you liked making out with me."

"I do!" She relaxes her hand, still holding onto John but not as violently. "But I don't feel like your girlfriend when I'm being shoved into a closet. I just feel like a pair of breasts and an open mouth."

John stares ahead nonchalantly. "That's because you're not my girlfriend, Cleo."

She lets go of his hand completely and scoffs. She shoves her own hands into her pockets -- John's pockets -- and watches her feet on the sidewalk. Her shiny black boots tick against the pavement, her movements slow and even steadier now that she doesn't have the boy's support. "Some girls like being girlfriends, too."

John sighs, shaking his head in exasperation. "We've been over this, Cleo. I don't date, but you like me and you're hot."

Cleo clenches her jaw. "That's a shitty thing to say, JFK. Don't you like me, too?"

JFK shrugs. "I like your ass."

The girl rolls her eyes, quickening her pace to walk in front of John. She slows down again, realising that the bottoms of her new boots are too slippery to risk a pace faster than normal. "Whatever. We're almost to my house anyway."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

Cleo lets out a huff before grabbing onto JFK for support again. She wraps her gloved hands around the loop his arm makes as it sticks out of his pocket. "I'm not gonna argue with you when we're right on the verge of a make-out session," she says.

"I thought you didn't want to be used for your body."

She shrugs before giving the shameless answer, "I don't, but you give exceedingly good head."

John F. Kennedy smirks. "Oh, you bet I do."

Cleo blushes, and tries to hide her face from John.

"But I can't today."

“What?” She asks. “Why?”

"Because I've got a lot of homework," he says, knowing it's a half-assed excuse.

Cleopatra turns to him, her eyebrow raised. "You don't do homework, John."

"I have to help Van Gogh today," John explains.

"Van Gogh?" Cleo repeats. John nods. "He needs your help?"

John rolls his eyes impatiently, wondering why Cleo can't seem to get it. Wondering why everything about her is so superficial that she can't understand that he has a best friend; why she isn't the only one who matters. "No, he doesn't need my help, he just doesn't like being alone on Friday nights."

"Neither do I," Cleo protests, batting her eyes desperately. She means the action to come off as flirty, but she knows she's going to lose this fight.

"So call some of your other friends. Abe, Joan-"

"Abe Lincoln and Joan of Arc are both cool enough to have plans on a Friday night," she combats.

JFK smirks. "Surely you won't let them be cooler than you."

Before Cleo can protest, they are walking up her driveway, her hands still wrapped around his arm. John walks her up the three steps to her front stoop, whirling her around so her back is to the door and her face is to him. He holds her gloved hands delicately, pretending to feel bad about blowing off his hot not-girlfriend to go spend time with his emotionally deprived best friend. It does sound depressing and lame when he hears it in his own head, but there's no going back now.

"Call me tonight?" Cleo asks, the slightest hint of a beg in her voice. She tries to hide it again under a flirtatious lilt, but it falls flat for the second time this afternoon. Cleo already knows what JFK is going to say.

"I never call, Cleo. People who are dating call, and I-"

Cleo cuts him off with an exasperated eye roll. "-don't date. I know."

"So why did you ask?"

Cleo shrugs. "I don't know. But I'm going now."

Nonetheless, she steps toward John for her expected kiss. He leans down to give her one, as per their afternoonly routine, but it doesn't bury itself as deep as usual. John keeps his mouth closed, despite Cleo's best efforts to engage him in the endeavour. When she realises her plan isn't going to work, she pulls away and scrambles into her house, swiftly shutting the door behind her to close off her embarrassment from the rest of the world. She has enough to worry about it seeping through the cracks.

***

JFK knocks on his best friend's door nearly ten minutes later, his feet sopping wet in his tennis shoes. He'd made a mistake when dressing that morning. He could see the snow intruding the sidewalk from his bedroom window, but he'd still opted for his sneakers, full of breathable holes and heat-accommodating fabrics. His big toe feels like it could snap off at any moment. He thinks if he were to take off his cotton sock and look at it, his toe would be blackened with the final stages of frostbite.

Vincent Van Gogh answers the door himself, wrapped in a fleece blanket and feet smothered in three layers of sock. Kennedy can't help but feel a little bit jealous, sure his toes are nice and cozy in their thick woollen fortress.

"JFK," Van Gogh greets the boy, standing aside to let him through the door. Van Gogh wonders how Kennedy ever could've noticed him at school; he stands at 5'5” while the varsity cross country runner was 6'1" last time he measured. Van Gogh is often a traffic cone to be tripped over.

"Sorry I'm so late. Cleo was bitching at me," JFK apologises.

"That's okay. I'm used to being alone," Van Gogh shrugs.

"But I know you especially hate Friday nights. You hate when there are sports games because the town gets loud and the drunken yelling echoes through the neighbourhood, bouncing off of the shingles and spinning like tops in your ears -- ear."

Van Gogh scoffs. "Spare me the poetry, Kennedy. You don't need to romanticise my mental illness, okay? It's not fucking fun."

"I thought you liked all that flowery prose -- all that girly shit."

The shorter boy shakes his head, feeling even smaller under Kennedy's scrutiny. "Don't talk down to me. And just because literature is written like a painting doesn't mean it's 'girly'. You like my artwork, don't you?"

"I like the one you did for AP art last year... the self-portrait."

Van Gogh smiles internally, secretly pleased with his best friend's answer. "I never thought I'd get a real compliment out of you, Kennedy."

"I compliment you!" He protests.

Van Gogh shakes his head, still wearing his smile. His lips are like daisies soaked in blood -- full and dripping. "Not without coating it in some condescending insult."

"Whatever, Gogh. You didn't want to be alone, and I'm here. So what now?"

"Well, so long as I'm holding you hostage, you may as well do some homework."

"I don't do homework," JFK reminds him.

Van Gogh smirks. "I know that, Kennedy. I just had to remind you of your morals before you go off and give me an honest compliment again. Weirds me out when you go soft, even for me."

JFK follows Van Gogh to his bedroom. The hallway walls are oddly bare and would go without notice if they hadn't been painted a murky blue. No pictures are hung, which strikes Kennedy as uncomfortably odd every time he visits his best friend's house. JFK's dads have hundreds of pictures of him stuffed into each nook and cranny of their house -- it's striking to see a pair of parents who care so little about documenting their child's early years.

Gogh pushes open the door to his room tentatively, almost as if he's scared there'll be an apparition seated on his bed. He shudders at the thought, trying to shake it off by opening the door all the way. He sits on a chair instead of the bed, nervous to accidentally sit on top of the ghost and give it a perfect chance to tunnel its way up into his organs. JFK notices the boy's shuddering and raises an eyebrow, taking note of the closed window and the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Who knew such a small boy could be so hopeless at keeping warm?

"Cold?" Kennedy asks, and Van Gogh looks up from the spot on his hand where he'd been anxiously picking at a scab. "And don't do that; the skin's almost healed," he adds.

Van Gogh narrows his eyes at the boy on his bed. "Since when do you care whether or not my scabs are healed?"

JFK shrugs, nervous to admit that he feels like he has to care since his friend's parents so obviously don't.

"Sorry I snapped," Van Gogh covers quickly. "Reflex."

Kennedy nods dismissively as if to show that he understands.

A couple seconds tick by, filling the room like a hose in a swimming pool. The time collects in the bedroom, spilling into every corner and fault line crack of the walls. It begins to overflow, and that's when Van Gogh can't stand the silence anymore. He invited Kennedy over so he wouldn't have to drown in stillness. Why can't JFK talk, dammit? Why is he so self-absorbed that he can't carry on a conversation for longer than five minutes at a time?

"Do you wanna read a book?" Van Gogh suggests, but it comes out in an urgent blurt. Maybe that's for the best. It gets Kennedy's attention.

"I don't read books."

Van Gogh rolls his eyes, cheeks burning a violent fire from embarrassment. "That's because you don't have the attention span to," he spits. "I could read it to you."

JFK's head snaps up. Gogh's cheeks darken an even deeper shade of red and he can feel his heartbeat in his face. Fuck, he thinks. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Okay," Kennedy says at last. "Read me a bedtime story." His overconfident, annoyingly-flirty tone is back, and Van Gogh smiles in relief. The blood drains from his cheeks and his heartbeat follows, little by little.

He excuses himself from his chair to slide a book off of his shelf. Kennedy lies down on the bed, his head on the pillow and his too-long legs spilling over the edge. "Give me a blanket," he demands, clearly serious about the "bedtime" thing. Van Gogh rolls his eyes, but fishes a blanket out of his bottom dresser drawer and throws it over to Kennedy nonetheless. JFK has just finished unfolding the blanket and throwing it over himself when Van Gogh settles back into his chair, lifting the cover of the book with his long fingers gingerly. His nails grow out past his fingertips which is normally a girlish look, but Kennedy can't help but wash his eyes over the boy's hands anyway. It doesn't look girlish on Van Gogh. Nothing looks girlish on Van Gogh.

[gwen-tolios]

Trumpet Wars

There were always rivalries in band. The clarinet section hated the flutes, the saxes the trumpets. Tubas were the cool people that got along with everyone, the rest of the low brass feeding off their coolness just enough to not be ignored while still being shuffled aside. And then it was all the winds versus percussion.

But that was normal school stuff. While the rivalries had been heated and fun during middle school and high school, by the time Ken hit university it was just an inside joke that only showed up in prank Christmas gifts and happy hours. Okay, and maybe the occasional jokes on the blackboard, but that was the professors doing.

But animosity towards a fellow player, trumpet or not, he hadn't felt until his senior year.  The Dungoo Symphony Orchestra announced a search for new members. Ken and others from around the country sent in audition tapes and all those who passed in the tri-state area had been informed to show up at the music department. 

While he would have traveled across three state lines to the audition, Ken was happy he only had to cross three streets and a rather large grassy hill.

Ken was surprised at how many people were there warming up. He thought the process would be more selective and that he wouldn't be going up against more than fifteen other trumpets. Sure, this location was only one of seven in the country for DSO auditions, but really, 60 others? More actually, as he signed in on the 60th line and more came in after him. 

With such a wait time ahead of him, Ken decided to put off warming up. They had been told ten minutes per audition, but he suspected things would fall behind. He grimaced. Hopefully they wouldn’t cut later additions short due to time.

Ken pulled out his trumpet, propped his sheet music up inside the case, and went through fingerings after he finished greasing the values. He got lost in his head, imagining the sounds he’d create. A vibrato on this whole note, double tonguing that run, circular breathing during that ballad-esque passage. It was only when one of the professors came in to announce four names to follow her did Ken figure he should start blowing wind through his trumpet.

As he fitted his mouth piece on, felt a harsh glare on the back of his neck.  He turned around to see a Hispanic man, maybe late 20s, looking at him through narrow eyes.  Something about Ken obviously riled him up, and now that Ken looked back he thought that same thing. His uncombed hair, the stiff color of his shirt, and, oh man that trumpet! Hadn't the other guy heard of polish?

Ken tried to shake of the sudden violent dislike and blew air through his instrument to warm up the metal before settling into a range of scales. Wanting to show the other guy he might as well pack up and go home, Ken made sure to use his best tone and went slightly faster than normal. Ken turned, looking out of the side of his eye at the other guys in a challenge.  

When he paused for breath the Hispanic took over, playing with the complementary minor scale. No, the blues complementary scale with its skipped notes and accidentals.

Ken did two octaves.

The other man did it double tongued.

On the same brainwaves, they each took a deep breath and started playing C, trying to not be the first to let the sound die.  Even with circular breathing, Ken was running out of air, but he held out for one half of a second longer.

He sent a cocky smile to his new found rival.

The other man looked murderous. Carefully, he put down his trumpet, and then stood up looking as if he was going to sock Ken.  

But, as he was standing, the other's face smoothed out, his desire to start a fight fading. In fact, he looked as if he didn't actually know why he wanted to start a fight to begin with.

That grated Ken.

“What, not man enough to do anything?”

The other man flopped a hand at him. “I've got better things to do.”  And with that, he sat in his chair again. But as soon as he touched his trumpet, something strange happened. It was if the metal burned him. He looked up at Ken.

“What?” Ken snarled at him.

Still looking at him, the man took his hand on and off the trumpet. The behavior was so odd Ken's dislike of the other faded to confusion. What was he doing?

Before he could think of an answer, his number was called. Goodness, he was so caught up in competing he hadn't actually played any of his trouble sections. Too late now. It wasn't like he hadn't practiced the piece a billion times.

To his surprise, his new found rival was called too. The professor indicated they were to each stand outside a different door. There was already another trumpeter standing at each one.  Shortly after they took their places, a girl walked out of Ken's assigned room. A voice barked out 'next!'. The already waiting player stepped inside and Ken scooted closer.

Ken spent the time fingering. Glances at the Hispanic man showed him doing the same. Eventually, two more trumpets arrived and stepped into line behind each of them, and then Ken was called into the room.

Deep breath, he told himself. Think of it as an S&E competition, you rocked at those.

The room was one of the small, not much space for more than a stand and the panel of three judges five feet away.  

He said hello and gave a little bow.

“Let's start with scales. Play C minor.”

Half way through the scale, he realized he could hear sounds from the other audition room, and he knew exactly who was playing.

In hindsight, he doesn’t really remember playing for the three DSO representatives. His entire focus was playing better than the other player. He didn't care if he didn't land a job, as long as he was better. He had never felt so passionate about playing his best. He had also never played as good. Tone, breathing, color, technique, he had never gotten this close to perfect playing.

Once dismissed, Ken looked toward the other room. It was still shut, so he walked toward the warm up place. He sat and gave his trumpet a quick polish.

As Ken closed his case, he looked up and watched the other auditioner enter the room. As he passed Ken figured he should be friendly despite everything. He didn't know what sparked the animosity he felt towards the other player, but maybe getting to know him would help.  Ken held out his hand. “Hi, I'm Ken Price.”

The other trumpet sneered at his hand and quickly went to put down the instrument. As soon as he did so, his face relaxed and he turned around to offer his own hand just as Ken was pulling his back. “Conor Caraballo.”

They shook.

“Look man,” Ken began. “I felt extra competitive today. Not sure why, but I just wanted to let you know it wasn't your fault.”

Conor nodded. “No big deal. Hey, try something for me?”

Ken shrugged. “Sure.”

“Look at me without touching your trumpet, and then while you are.”

It was a crazy suggestion, but Ken figured there was a reason for it considering Conor had done just that earlier. He sat on a chair and pulled his case onto his lap. With a snap, he released the catches. With his hands hovering over the trumpet, Ken looked at Conor and thought about what he felt about the guy.

Okay, kinda friendly and maybe a little bipolar, but a pretty darn good trumpet player.

Ken placed his hands on the trumpet.

Conor was a no good show-off who shouldn't be because he had no skills to show off in the first place. He smelled, cheated, manipulated others to gain ranks in groups, he -

Ken took his hands of the trumpet.

Conor zipped his own case closed. “See what I mean?”

“That was...weird.”

“You're telling me.”

“So...our trumpets hate each other?”

“Did you hear yourself? That's crazy.”

“Yeah, but...” Ken trailed off, looking at his instrument before slowly closing the case. “You have any other ideas?”

“No. Just that I'm gonna ignore it and hope I never see you in a situation like this again.  And now, to make up for all that anger I felt towards you I feel like I should buy you a beer.”

“I know just the place.”

[scapegrace74-blog]

Saorsa, Chapter 19

A/N  Here is the next installment of Saorsa.  In which Jamie is introduced to the auto.mo.bile.   This might be one of my favourite scenes in the entire first arc.

Rather than link to all previously posted chapters, I’ll just direct those of you wanting to catch up on your Saorsa-reading to my AO3 page, where the fic is posted in its entirety.

Thank you to each of you liking and reblogging!  It does my little fanfic writer’s heart good.

Released from the prison of his secret, Jamie flourished over the weeks leading up to the festive season.  With the wounds on his back and shoulder finally healed, he helped Murtagh in the stables and about the estate each day, slowly regaining his strength.  In the evenings, he sat with Claire in the great room, helping with the ledgers, conversing quietly, or listening to the frequent BBC Radio updates from the front.

Now that she understood the source of Jamie’s strange ambivalence regarding the war, she tried to provide him with as much context as possible.  It helped that he was a worldly, educated man for his time, but the advances in technology were such that he spent many nights in quiet, stunned silence as she described aerial bombing raids, the convoluted alliances between countries that spread the globe and chemical warfare.

“But why, Sassenach?  What cause unites Germany, the Turks and Japan, and pits them against Britain, France and Russia?  Millions have died, ye say, but for what end?”

She knew what her answer was supposed to be: the fight against global hegemony, restoring the balance of power, ensuring that democracy prevailed over tyranny.  But she couldn’t say those things to Jamie, because she knew he would see them for what they were: academic constructs that meant nothing to the common man whose blood was being shed.  

Instead, she distracted him with stories about her own travels, following her Uncle Lambert around the globe from one archaeological dig to the next.  An orphan and obligatory nomad himself, he listened to her story of rootlessness with sympathy but no pity.  She found herself sharing memories she’d thought were boxed away for good, little glimpses of a life she’d been forced to leave behind upon her uncle’s death.  They hurt as they rose to the surface, like debriding a wound, but if her eyes watered in the firelit room, Jamie did not comment.  Perhaps he attributed it to the peat smoke.

“And when yer uncle passed, ye marrit Frank?” he asked one such night, after they’d each drunk a few glasses of sherry.

He seldom mentioned Frank, and usually only obliquely.

“No.  I settled in London, shared a flat with some other single girls, and enrolled in nurse’s college.  Uncle Lamb left me enough money to pay my board, tuition and such.  And when the war broke out, the army were very eager to recruit nurses for their field hospitals.  I met Frank at a mixer; a social event organized for British soldiers.   He was still in officer’s training.  I was scheduled to deploy to the continent once my schooling was finished.  Before I knew it, we were married.”

“Ye did no’ go tae war, then?”  She wondered what Jamie made of all of this.  She was no historian, but she imagined the idea of paying a woman to serve on the battlefront, even if she was not actually fighting, must be foreign to his eighteenth-century view of the world.   Come to think of it, Frank hadn’t been very fond of the idea either.

“No.  Once we were married, Frank arranged for me to come to Lallybroch, to mind the estate.  One of the perks of being an enlisted officer, I imagine.”

Some of her disenchantment must have crept into her voice, because Jamie’s next words were, “Many’s the way a lady can serve her country, Claire.  My da would say…” he trailed off, looking bashful.

“Say what?” she prodded.

“That a strong woman was worth three men, fer she could tend a hearth, grow a new life, and defend her kin more fiercely than any hired soldier.  He’d say it of ye, Sassenach.”

She blushed at the unexpected praise, lowering her eyes to the empty sherry glass twisting between her fingers.

“Sometimes I wonder…” she began, but then stopped herself, not wishing to slander the dead.  She could feel Jamie’s articulate eyes watching her.  “Well, never mind.  Would you care for more sherry?”

What she couldn’t say was that she wondered whether her late husband had ever truly known her at all.

**

Yuletide was a somber affair.   News of Frank’s death had by now reached the tenants, adding a pall to what was already a holiday of austerity.   Claire worked many late nights with Mrs. Fitz and Cook by her side.  On the day before Christmas she delivered two wooden crates to Murtagh.

“There’s a pair of woolen socks and a clementine for each child on the estate and in the village.  Can you please see that they are given out today?”, she requested.  “And once that’s done, please tell the labourers that they are free to go home.  I don’t want to see them back before Hogmanay.   Jamie and I can tend the livestock for a few days.”

Murtagh opened his mouth, but Claire raised her hand, forestalling any complaint.

“I don’t want to hear it, Mr. Fitzgibbons.  And make certain each man takes a cloutie dumpling home with him.  They’re underneath the clementines.”

**

“I’ll jus’ ride tae the village on Donas, and meet ye there,” Jamie evaded, looking unusually nervous but dapper in navy trousers, a clean shirt and borrowed tweed jerkin.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jamie.  It’s freezing out tonight, and you’ll be late for midnight mass besides.”

Her Scot made an indeterminate noise in his throat, neither acquiescing nor contesting her point.

“It’s just a short drive.   That old Vauxhall Cadet can barely break twenty miles an hour, and I’m a very good driver.”  She neglected to mention the slight handicap of not being able to use the vehicle’s headlights, on account of the blackout.   Fortunately, she had the route to the village memorized by now and the moon was waxing full.

“I dinna doubt it, Sassenach.  I just… twenty miles an ‘our?  Did ye say yer automobile can travel o’er twenty miles an ‘our?”

He pronounced it as three separate words, each carrying the possibility of detonating in his mouth: auto, mo, bile.

Claire grabbed her warmest coat and scarf, then pulled Jamie, still balking, towards the courtyard where the car sat idling.  Five minutes later, navigating the moonlit road into the village, he could be heard muttering in Gaelic from the passenger’s seat, getting a headstart on his Yuletide prayers.

**

The tiny stone church was lit only by tapers, so it wasn’t until she filed back to the Lallybroch pew after receiving communion that she noticed Murtagh sitting alone in a dim corner near the door.  She had to dodge a few well-wishers at the end of mass in order to accost him before he could sneak away.

“Murtagh, what are you doing here?  I told you and the other men to go home to your families over the holidays.”

Jamie joined her, nerves considerably calmed by the familiar church rituals.  Murtagh gave him a beseeching look.

“What?” she asked, looking between their faces and annoyed at their apparent complicity.

“Sassenach, Murtagh comes from the Isle of Lewis.  Even if he’d hied away t’day, he canna make it there an’ back in no’ but a week.”

Claire bit her lip, chagrinned that it never occurred to her to wonder if her labourers could take advantage a holiday, or if she’d merely complicated their lives with what she believed was benevolence.  It was one of those moments when she was certain she would never adequately fill the role of Lady of Lallybroch.

“It’s nae yer fault, Claire,” Jamie assured her quietly, obviously reading her dismay on her face.  “I ken the other lads were fit tae burst when they heard the news an’ saw their cloutie dumpling.”

She squared her shoulders and raised her chin, wrestling her confidence back into place.

“Well, there’s nothing for it, then.  Murtagh, I insist you join Jamie and I in the main house for Christmas dinner tomorrow.  And when the holidays are over, and the time is convenient for you, you shall take two weeks to visit your family.  It must be an age since you last saw them.”

“Mistress, I canna…” Murtagh began, but his mistress was already on the move.

“I don’t want to hear of it.  Now please join us in the auto.mo.bile.  I may need you to administer smelling salts to our fearless Highland warrior on the road home.”

[sunflowerkiwi93]

Now That We’re Done - HS

All Parts: HERE (My links on the page are broken right now I apologize)

Summary: A twenty year old dancer, Elizabeth Payne, is recovering from a traumatic past with the help of her older brother, Liam. The two of them have been yearning for peace for quite some time, and when a good friend comes to live with them for the summer they start their journey towards finding it.  Through ups, downs, relapses, and two albums- Liz fights through her own mind to get better.

Warnings: There are mentions of abuse, PTSD, and anxiety throughout every part.  Also- mature content. One of the guys doesn’t turn out to be so great- this story is not intended to give him this image.  This is all purely fiction.

Part Eight

Three days had passed since Harry and I spent a day out together, and since then I had driven myself out once to grab coffee alone and then once more with Liam beside me.  Nothing more happened with Harry and I except for a few winks and lingered hugs.  My brother seemed to always be around and there was no possible way to not be obvious.  Harry and I hadn’t even talked about it since that night.  When it seemed that Harry and I could be in a situation, my brother conveniently left the room, but nothing happened.

It was the third night after and I was laying on my bed talking to Kens on the phone.

“You can tell me again,” She teased.  I was laying on my back with my head nearly hanging off the edge.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to bore you with it,” I cheesed and covered my eyes with my hands.

“Never!  Give me some excitement in my life,” She said eagerly.  I took a breath.

“We walked into the park and it was like the world stopped turning, Kens.  Nothing existed but he and I in that moment.  He held me so gently, and when he kissed me it was as if it was built up for years.  My fear was, like, washed away and my heart just...” My voice trailed off.

“You still alive over there?” Kens joked.

“Yes!” I squirmed and smiled, “I’m waiting for him to say something about it, though.”

“So why don’t you say something?” Kens suggested.  I bit onto one of my fingers and thought to myself.  That was certainly something I could do, but finding the right words would be tricky.

“I’ll do it,” I decided.  She told me how exciting it was, then we said goodbye and hung up the phone.

Sitting up on my bed I hopped to the floor and stood in front of my mirror.  I only put on mascara today and my hair was not done, it was just hanging at my shoulders naturally.  My poor excuse for freckles were popping out courtesy of the sun, and I felt good.  It was the end of the day so I was lounging in a white tank, dark joggers and black socks.  Nothing spectacular but I didn’t feel there was a need to change.  Liam and Harry were in the kitchen, I could hear their voices from the hallway so I made my way out there.

“Hey,” My brother smiled at me.  Harry smiled too, his eyes scanning me up and down.  Liam was in his spot and Harry was on the end of the counter leaning over scattered pieces of paper.  I peered my head between them both to catch a peek.

“What are we doing?” I asked.  Liam told me it was plans for Harry Styles 2 and gave Harry the floor.  I looked at him intrigued.

“Well,” He began, “It’s a plan so nothing is set in stone yet.  I don’t set anything in place till the last minute usually.” Liam laughed and chimed in agreeing with him.

“Guys I’m gonna head to bed,” He said getting out of his seat.  He ruffled my hair and pushed my head lightly.  Harry and I both shouted a goodnight to him and he was off down the hall.

“So what’s your plan?” I stepped a little bit closer to him messing with the papers a bit.  Harry looked at me and then at the scribbled writing.  He told me he had written two songs already that he knew for sure would be on the album.

“Lights Up, and Adore You,” He said with a small smile, “Quite happy with them.”  He spoke from his chest and I felt a chill run through my veins.  It hit me hard and goosebumps rose on my bare arms.

The next moment flew by at light speed.

“Ooo!” I held my arms in, rubbing them together.

“Are you cold?” He asked, reaching for me.

“No,” I shook my head looking at him, “Can we talk?” And before either of us could say another word he reached his hands behind my head, through my hair and pressed his lips against mine.  I slid my hands around his back gripping onto his t-shirt.  We moved together with such greed it was clear that we were both waiting for this.  He was the first one to pull away and I let out a soft noise expressing my disappointment.

“Liz,” He whispered.

“Stop,” I brought a hand around to his front and grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him back in.  He pulled away once more.

“Harry,” I whined.

“You wanted to talk,” He laughed, his hands sliding their way down my back.  I reached up to hold his face and squished his cheeks and pecked his lips.

“This does it,” I whispered against them.

His arms grasped my body and he picked me up with ease.  I shouted, surprised, but it was muffled by his lips.  He carried me to the living room and laid me down on the couch, hovering over me.  He placed a hand beside my head and his other was still moving up and down along my side.  My hands held behind his neck and moved to his shoulders every few moments.  Within the sound of our breaths and his touch I could feel a fire start to burn in the center of my body.  I pulled my knees in, both of them resting on the sides of his torso.  He smiled on my lips and paused.

“Talk to me, please,” He whispered and started kissing along my jawline.

“Harry,” I sighed, my eyes closed, “What are we doing?” His lips traveled down to my neck.

“We’re currently on the path to a destination we should not reach...” He said between kisses to my skin, “...tonight.”  He whispered, and I sighed giving him a silent laugh I knew he felt.  I held his face once more and pulled his lips back to mine and I kissed him slowly, and then did it again even slower.  He placed a hand to my chest and gently pushed me down as he tilted his chin up with his eyes shut.

“Fuck,” He mumbled under his breath, teeth grinding together.  I smiled and bit my lip watching him, even though I was in the same predicament.  I just had the convenience to hide it.  

After a moment of him taking a deep breath he sat up and pulled me with him.  He kissed me once more and then pulled away completely but still kept his arms around me.  We looked at each other and laughed sheepishly.  His hair was fluffed up, his lips were pink and a bit puffy and his t-shirt was giving me a glimpse of the strip of skin just above his pants.  My hair was a mess, that I already knew, my lips in the same state as his and my tank hung a bit too low on my chest, giving him a small taste of what was under it.

“We can’t be there yet,” He said after a minute of composure, “That can’t-“

“We can’t,” I agreed quickly.  My heart was soft and I knew that was a step I had to really think about.  At this point I already knew where Harry and I were, and I know that he knows I’m not ready for it, but my god I wanted it so bad.

“I know,” He whispered to me as if he could read my mind, and studied my face, “I’ve waited so long for just this moment alone.” He said softly, reaching a hand up to brush against my cheek.  I grabbed onto his hand and held it there against me.

“I love you,” I whispered and kept my gaze to his eyes.  His flickered back and forth between mine and he smiled.

“I love you, too,” He kissed me again and we fell into it, the weight lifting off our shoulders, complete relief, “We should go to bed.” He whispered disappointingly.  I shook my head slowly.  Our foreheads came together again and we shut our eyes.  I opened mine up and snuck my lips under his jaw, kissing him gently.  He sighed, groaning at the same time.  He pushed my shoulders back with his hands and looked me dead in the eyes, his intention lustrous.

“You’re dangerous,” He smirked, “We aren’t playing that game, and I won’t let it happen.” I bit my lip, nodding my head slowly and turned my face away from him.  He placed a finger under my chin and turned it back toward him.  His eyebrows lowered, but his voice remained soft.

“Is that all you want?” He genuinely questioned me.  My heart sank a bit.

“No, Harry!” I reassured him, putting my hands back to his cheeks.  Pausing to kiss his lips, I spoke against them, “I’ve just been craving you for a really long time,” His breath became uneven as I whispered to him, “And I just want to be as close to you as I can.  I want to feel that… with you.” His eyes were completely drawn into mine, and he was holding on to every word.

“Harry?” I yearned, begging for a word.

“I want to be with you,” He drew across the side of my face with his thumb, “I want to hold you, love you, take you out and show you how truly breathtaking you are.  We have that connection.”

“Harry,” I slightly disagreed.

“I know,” He smiled with a small laugh, “That takes it to a whole other level of love and I want it to.  When it comes from love there’s no better feeling.”  My eyes parted from his as I looked to his chest.  

“What?” He asked.

“I don’t think I’ve had that before,” I mumbled.  Harry took his finger to my chin once more and brought my eyes back up.

“Me either,” He said to my surprise, “But I can feel it here.” His voice turned to a whisper.

“This conversation isn’t helping,” I nearly whined to him.

“You’re telling me,” He shot me a slick smile and we both fell into laughter.  I glanced over to the clock on the wall.  It read a little last midnight.

“We should really go to bed,” Harry said and I gave in. We walked down the hall hand in hand giving playful jokes back and forth.  When we got to my door he lifted my chin and kissed my lips lingering there for a moment.  I pressed a hand to his chest and pushed him away gently.

“Goodnight, Harry,” I smiled and turned into my room.

“Goodnight, love,” He said and slipped into his room leaving us both to ourselves.

-

The following week was magic.  July was beginning and the sun was out nearly everyday.  Harry spent most of his time during the day in the studio, and I would catch Liam in there every now and then working with him.  He was creating an album and the process was in full swing.  I popped in there for a few minutes, whenever they were there, and I watched them work.  

Liam began to tell me he had thoughts of putting an album together as well, that Harrys process had brought back the feeling and inspiration of creating music.  He explained it to me one night over dinner.  He and I went out to the Italian place we had a space for ourselves in, and he went on a passionate rant.  I listened, excited for him, but also felt a tad guilty.  He was spending so much time taking care of me, and being there for me that I was taking time away from his true love.  After that night I began to leave space between my brother and I to give him his musical freedom.  I never intended to be a burden on him, and even though Kens explained to me the reasons why I wasn’t, my mind was drawn to the past few years of my life and I struggled to realize it.

With my brother's mind being taken over by something other than me, that left a lot of time for Harry and I to have together.

We never pulled moves in front of Liam, in fact we barely touched each other when he was around and if by mistake Harry's hand slipped down my back a little too far or I got caught trying to play footsies under the dinner table, Liam, I assume, pretended not to notice.

Wednesday, Harry took me out again and we spent the day buying new clothes for both of us.  We came upon a thrift store and spent most of our time there.  Harry had multiple button downs in his arms with hideous patterns on them that only he could pull off.  I held onto two sweaters and an old Aerosmith t-shirt.  Harry took it from me and held it up.

“Your style?” He raised a brow.

“Yeah,” I said confidently.  He gave the shirt back to me.

“What made the change?” He asked, his hands running over the different fabrics laid out on the table in front of us.  He circled around the round table as he listened to me.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Your style changed,” He said innocently.

“Oh,” I said aloud and thought for a moment, “I don’t know.  I like the way I dress now,” I shrugged, “It feels the most... me.” Harry smiled.

“I feel like the past was me trying to find who I was.  There were so many outside influences affecting me.  Between dance and Kiera and...” He and I made eye contact when that name left my lips and he pulled a face.  We both laughed, “God, what even happened to her.”

“I don’t really seem to care,” He brushed it off, messing with necklaces hanging on a jewelry box.

“Anyway,” I continued, “With the time I’ve spent with myself and the music I’ve been listening to, it speaks to my soul.” Harry smiled again and nodded, his eyes not on me.

“Who I was back then was not me,” I admitted.

“Yeah, I knew that,” He mumbled under his breath.

“Huh?” I cocked my chin toward him.  He made a full circle around the table and ended up next to me again.  One of his hands rested on top of mine and he drug a single finger up my arm, over my shoulder and ended on my face.  He pulled his trick of turning my chin to look at him.

“I knew it wasn’t you,” His lips moved slowly.

“Really?” I shut him down.

“Really,” He shot back, his serious tone not faltering, “I know you better than you think, doll.” He relaxed and placed his lips to my temple for a soft kiss. My eyes squinted toward him.

“What’s truly my favorite song?” I asked quickly.

“Do I Wanna Know by Arctic Monkeys.  You liked to dance to it,” He said without hesitation as he walked away from me toward the wall covered in old magazines and posters.  I stood there in shock but then hurried after him.  That was something I never admitted to anyone.

“My favorite books to read!” I exclaimed trying to slip him up.

“Anything by John Green,” He shot me a sly look.  I turned away defeated.

“Try me,” He laughed arrogantly.

“Favorite color,” Speed round, I thought to myself.

“Green, although recently it’s been yellow,” He spoke without a care in the world.

“Drink?”

“Hot coffee, babe,” He turned past another rack in the store as I still trailed after him.  Despite my love for iced flavors, he’s was right.

“Artist?”

“Zeppelin.”

“Sports team?” I asked, and he only shook his head knowing full well I didn’t pay attention to any sport.

“Underwear brand?!” I nearly shouted.  He whipped his head around and shushed me as I bumped into him.

“First of all, I’m not a creep.  Second of all, not the time to shout about your underwear,” He stifled his laughter and I giggled.

“Why do you know all this?” I asked, holding onto his arm as we continued our stroll around the shop.  He stopped every now and then to hold something up in front of me, but I didn’t care to pay attention.

“Let’s just say you were crushing on the wrong guy for a really long time,” He said, “My little ol’ heart was yours.” He admitted.  I sighed and shook my head in disbelief.

“Harry, I never knew that.”

“Eh, he was too pretty,” Harry scrunched his nose.  We both faked a small gag at the same time and laughed out loud.

Once we left the thrift shop Harry and I strolled to Scoops for Two for their chocolate ice cream and we took a seat at a table outside not minding the eyes on us, although normally I would.

“You really liked me, huh?” I playfully nudged my foot against his leg.  He took a spoonful in his mouth and held up a finger.  I waited patiently as he obnoxiously took his time knowing he would irritate me on purpose.

“Yes,” He finally spoke, “I think I still do?” I kicked his leg this time and he jumped.  We shared a playful grimace.

“I feel so stupid,” I rolled my eyes scooping up a chunk of chocolate and eating it, “I’m sorry.”

“Oh don’t be” He waved a hand at me, “We’re grown now.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, “But you knew me.  Like, you knew me, knew me.”

“Knew you, knew you?” He teased.  I kicked him again, “Oof!”

“Remember when you kissed me?” I raised a single brow staring toward him.  He blushed and ran a hand across his forehead.

“I sure do,” He said sheepishly.

“That was great,” I laughed as he shook his head.  We looked to each other and I knew what came after that kiss crossed through our minds, and our cheesy grins faded away.

“So much happened,” I nearly whispered.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Harry stopped me before I started to go deeper.

“Right,” I agreed, setting my cup on the table.  Across the street from us a group of teenage girls was flocking.  They had their phones out, pointing their cameras towards us or pressing them to their ears speaking frantically.  Watching them for a second, I turned back to Harry who only looked at me.

“You wanna go?” He nodded, knowing the answer to his own question.

A few days later it was Friday and it was a lazy day.  Laying out by the pool in my bathing suit in the sun I had the radio playing music in the background.  My eyes were shut and my hands tapped along to the beat against the lounge chair.  Feeling my skin getting warmer and warmer I was ready to flip to my stomach when Harry came from behind me and kissed my neck, his curls tickling my chest.

“Whoa!” I jumped opening my eyes.  He came around the chair and drug his eyes up and down my body.

“Mama mia,” He spoke dangerously, biting his bottom lip between his teeth. He placed his right knee between mine and leaned over me to kiss my lips in a hurry.  Kissing him back quickly, I then pushed him away.

“Harry, not right now,” I hushed.

“Relax he’s working,” He reassured me and tucked my hair behind my ears kissing my jaw, “He’ll be in there for hours I just checked.” I laughed.

“Why, so you could nail me on the patio?” I joked.  He pulled back looking at me offended.

“No, I just want to kiss you a little.  We haven’t really done that...” He nearly pouted at me.  I sat my upper body up and snaked my arms around his neck pulling him back into a slow kiss.  He was right.  Between him working on his album, and him and Liam working together, Harry and I hadn’t been this close in a few days even though we had plenty of alone time.

I slipped my hands into his hair and gently tugged on his curls, but not for too long.

“Mmm,” He sang against my lips.  He parted his lips a bit and daintily danced his tongue over my bottom lip.  My hands were still twirling his curls as I let him in and gave it back to him.  His right hand behind my back slid higher and he moved it under the strap to my bathing suit.  Our lips moved slowly and our breath was heavy, the both of us holding each other tighter.  I tugged his hair rougher than I was before and he pulled his lips away and turned his head while I pressed my lips to his jaw.

“Get up,” He spoke quickly and picked me up just the same.  He sat himself in the chair and laid back putting me on top of him, all our bare skin coming together for the first time.  I let out a shaky breath and smiled to his lips, letting my hands travel to his chest.  He pressed his chin forward go catch me in a needy kiss.  I brought my hands back up, one to his neck and the other to his shoulder and I gently gripped onto his skin.  I softly bit his bottom lip and he hummed to me, his hands gripping my hips.  My knees were on either side of his leg, so I shifted my weight and put both over his hips, straddling his waist.  He hummed against my lips once more.

“This isn’t fair,” He whispered and then pulled my bottom lip between his teeth a bit harder than I had before.

“Perfectly fair,” I whispered after pulling away with a smack of our lips.  I pressed my upper body against his, his hands sliding down around my thighs giving them a squeeze before dragging his fingers along the line of my bathing suit bottoms.  My turn to hum to his lips.

“That’s not fair,” I shot at him.  He smiled devilishly.

“Perfectly fair,” He teased, lifting the seam of my bottoms and letting them go with a snap.  I gasped audibly and sat up staring down to him not letting my fingers leave his body, sliding them gracefully down his torso.  I was about to pull the same trick on him and pull on the strap to his suit, but my eyes shot to the back door. Liam was stepping outside.

“Shiiit,” I sang high pitched, and started to stand up.  Harry sat up quickly and covered his hands in his lap looking up to me in a hilarious panic, “Few hours?” I whispered and swatted at his leg.  He pulled both his lips into his mouth and winked.

“Oof, I’m sorry,” Liam took a step backwards and reached for the door to go back in.

“No!” I exclaimed, “Liam it’s okay, you can come out.” Harry looked to me in a real panic this time and shook his head for only me to see, his arms sinking forward to cover below his waist.  I laughed under my breath watching him.  Liam was rounding the chair and Harry jumped up facing away from him.

“I’ll be right back,” He said, waiting for Liam to turn away from him before he rushed in the house.  I held my hand over my mouth covering my smile and sat down in the chair.

“Really sorry,” Liam said with a slight cringe sitting down in a chair beside me handing me a bottle of water, “Need this?” He joked.  I finally let out my laughter and snatched the bottle taking a swig.

“You suck,” I teased, shaking my head.

Saturday evening I was on the patio with Harry again but we were sitting in lounge chairs across from each other.  Neither of us were laying down, we sat criss cross near the edges.  We spent the day swimming and sharing snacks, this time around swapping slices of watermelon listening to music from the seventies.  Harry took a bite from a piece and handed it to me, bouncing his shoulders to the beat David Bowie.  As he finished what was in his mouth he watched me take my bite.  It was way messier than I expected, and I jumped as the juice dripped onto my chest and onto my legs.

“Oh no!” I shouted, trying to scoop it up with my finger.  I got some of it and licked it off, tried again, but ended up pushing it around more, “Ugh,” I groaned looking at Harry who was staring, his jaw open a bit.  I raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“What?” I asked purely.

“That was sexy,” He didn’t hesitate.  Taken by surprise, my jaw fell open next.

“Styles,” I sang, dragging it out, “Really?” I spoke quietly with a motive in mind.  I bit into the piece again and quickly brought a finger up to catch the juice off my chin and placed my finger in my mouth, pulling it out slowly, maintaining my gaze on Harry.

“Don’t start,” His stare didn’t change, instead his voice turned stern.  I broke a piece of watermelon off with my teeth and held it there for a second before pursing my lips to pull it in.

“Mmm,” I hummed, closing my eyes to enjoy it.  I tilted my head back and ate it slow.  Opening my eyes to look back at him, I licked my lips and smiled.

“Want some?” I asked innocently on purpose and held out the slice back to him.  He sat forward and grabbed it back with force, shook his head and sat back taking a harsh bite from it.

“You kill me,” He mumbled with his mouth still full.  I bat my eyelashes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I teased, shrugging my shoulders.

Sunday morning I got ready at my mirror in my bedroom.  Kens and I were getting together soon and I was happy.  I hadn’t seen her in days and we’d only talked a few times since our last meeting.

Pulling my hair in a bun my heart sank to my stomach.  On the left side of my neck close to my ear I found a purple spot and pressed a hand to my forehead.

Harry knew better, it was something we didn’t do.  Last night by the pool was incredibly heated. It must've surpassed our thinking, yet we were still weary of taking it too far.

I showered last night and everything, I thought to myself, how could I not have seen it then.  Pulling open a drawer in my table I grabbed the concealer I never wore anymore and covered it the best I could, but that sucker was dark, so I had to wear my hair down.

I left the house around eleven taking the car keys from Liam.  He told me every time how proud he was of me for going out by myself.  I smiled at him and said goodbye.

Walking out to the car I couldn’t help but feel a bit discouraged.  Since my thing with Harry started I hadn’t felt the need to have constant validation anymore and when I got it from Liam, only from Liam now, I was reminded of my truth.

“At this point now I feel almost like a child,” I explained to Kens as she listened to my feelings on Liam, “I get why he does it, but all this week barely seeing him because of his work, I feel like he’s not seeing me.”  I emphasized the ‘me’.  Kens bobbed her head, her strawberry blonde hair brushing against her shoulders.  We sat in the coffee shop across from one another.

“So you haven’t talked to him about it,” She stated, “Maybe it’s time to.”

“But how?” I asked, “He’s my brother.  He’s always going to worry no matter what, and we’ve been attached to each other for years now.  The space is strange to me, it feels good, but I don't want him to be upset.”

“If it’s a part of your...” She steered away from the word recovery, and she didn’t even need to say it. I already knew what she meant, “He’ll understand.  This is a growing process for you both.  You’ve become accustomed to this life now, but it’s time to take the next step.”

I looked down at my coffee and took a deep breath.

“Speaking of taking the next step,” I began.  Kens tilted her chin to the side in question.  I only brought my eyes up to look at her.

“You’ve been having a good time with Harry, yeah?” A smile creeped to her face.

“How’d you guess?” I scoffed under my breath and faced her completely.  She raised her eyebrows and tapped the side of her neck.  My hand shot up covering the spot on mine.

“I covered it!” I defended myself.

“I’m a mother,” She giggled, “Nothing gets by me anymore.”

“I used to be a pro at covering them,” I rolled my eyes and pulled my hair further over my shoulders.  I then remembered what else I used to be good at covering up, “I guess I’ve lost my touch.” I shook my head looking away from Kens.

“That’s a good thing,” She said sternly, placing a hand on the table toward me.

She was right.  Forgetting how to cover marks on my skin, forgetting the clothes I had to wear and the way I had to act was a step I never thought I’d reach. I gave her a soft smile and changed the subject.

“There’s one thing I don’t know if I’m ready to do,” I said quietly, afraid to speak too loud about it.  This topic was never easy for me to talk about with someone who wasn’t on the receiving end of it.  Kens squinted her eyes at me.

“I know what you’re about to say,” She took the floor from me, saving me the scared feeling, “Have you talked about it with him?”

“Yes, we have multiple times and we’re on the same page,” I watched her shoulders relax as if she was waiting for a different answer, “He and I both know it can’t happen until I’m sure I’ll be okay.” My hands gripped onto my cup tight, Kens’ eyes flickering from them to my eyes.  She and I have talked about the past and this same topic.  There were plenty of great times, but in the end they were all horrible.  Moments a girl should never have to endure.

“I know why you think you won’t be,” She said, “One situation, Harry is smart.  Second situation, I’m sure he wouldn’t treat you in that way.”

Three years ago I was a few months into my last relationship.  We were about to leave the country when I realized how late I was.  At eighteen my brain didn’t understand the details of it yet and he and I both assumed the worst without having answers.  When it turned out to just be a scare we were relieved, but stayed jumpy for days after.  Months after, those moments that were supposed to mean something took a sharp turn and became something I didn’t want to experience.  Nights of saying no, but dealing with it anyway.

“I know he wouldn’t either,” I agreed, “It’s just the last time I did it, it was terrible.  I was crying,” I closed my eyes and cringed, “I hid it so he wouldn’t see.”  Kens reached out and put her hands on top of mine. We sat in silence for as long as I needed it.

“I’m glad you didn’t jump in,” Kens nodded, “That’s strength.  Self respect.”

“Thanks,” I smiled.

“If you trust him, and love him the way that you’ve been talking about him,” She paused, “You’ll know when you’re ready.”

[let-the-dream-begin]

A Place to Belong: Chapter 12 Thicker Than Blood

Chapter 11

Read on AO3

Claire and Jenny were once again sitting in the grass near the mill, watching the children play. This time, Kitty was running around with them, and yelling as well. She was starting to speak in one word sentences, much to Jenny’s relief, things like “up,” “Ma,” “Da,” “jam”. More often than not, in chasing after her siblings, she toppled over, but after the first three times, Claire and Jenny stopped expressing concern. She was perfectly fine.

The little life inside Claire was growing more and more restless by the day. It was nearing the end of August, just over a month since the baby had started kicking.

Claire cried out softly, her hand flying to her stomach.

“Ye alright?” Jenny asked, looking up from the shirt she was mending.

“Yes, I’m fine…just a strong kick, is all.” Claire shook her head in disbelief. “Strongest one yet.”

“Sometimes it feels like they’re trying to bruise ye,” Jenny said, laughing. “Kitty was brutal to me. Though I’m sure that’s no surprise.”

Claire chuckled. “He seems quite eager to get out of me. I don’t know what the rush is,” she crooned, looking down at her swollen abdomen. “You’ve still got three months to go in there.”

They both chuckled at that, and then another thought crossed Claire’s mind.

“You know…” she absently stroked her bump, unable to take her eyes off it now. “He’s already further along than Faith ever was.”

“That’s a good thing, is it no’?”

“Of course. I thank God every time I can feel his life, even if it feels like a personal attack sometimes.” She gave a tiny smile. “It’s just…strange. I never actually got this big, her kicking never got this strong.”

Jenny put down her sewing for a moment to take Claire’s hand. “There’s no shame in celebrating what ye have wi’ this bairn, even though ye couldna have it wi’ the first.” Claire nodded silently. “Faith will always be the one to make ye a mother. Yer first born. But this one will be special to ye in his own way.” Jenny placed a hand on Claire’s belly. “D’ye ken what I’m trying to say?”

Claire nodded. “I do.” She covered Jenny’s hand on her stomach. “Thank you, Jenny.” Unexpectedly, her eyes filled with tears. “I wish…” She took a shuddery breath. “I wish she could have been buried here. And I wish we could have laid her father beside her.”

Jenny’s eyes swam with tears as well. “They’re together now, sister. Ye ken that.” Claire nodded, wiping her eyes. “He can be the father he always wanted to be. To Faith.”

Just then, Kitty shrieked, and both of their heads whipped up to see Jamie haphazardly holding her by the waist.

“Jamie! Put her down!” Jenny called. He released his grip, and she unceremoniously thudded into the grass, popping her head back up in no time and toddling away from Jamie.

“Christ…” Jenny groaned, but Claire started laughing.

“What do you suppose he was going to do with her?” Claire asked.

“Throw her into the stream I’d expect. He’s still angry she wasna a wee brother.”

Claire laughed out loud at that, wiping away the lingering tears that remained on her face.

“Auntie Claire!” Maggie’s voice squeaked, scampering toward them. She was clutching something in her wee fist, and she presented it proudly to her. “Flower. Fer yer garden.”

“Oh, thank you so much!” Claire beamed at her, taking it from her. It was a blue thistle, likely plucked somewhere near the mill. “This will be lovely with the rest of my herbs and medicines, Maggie. Thank you.”

Maggie smiled a wide, toothy grin, twisting her skirt in her hand.

“Give yer Auntie a kiss, Maggie,” Jenny said, knowing she needed it.

Maggie immediately obeyed, throwing her arms around Claire’s neck and planting a kiss on her cheek. Claire laughed joyously, returning the embrace and holding her tightly. It was hard to believe that come November, it would be three whole years since she had delivered this little girl. 

Maggie pulled away and bit her bottom lip excitedly before speaking again. “See baby?” she asked, looking down at Claire’s stomach.

“You’d like to see the baby?” Claire said, and she nodded, her strawberry blonde curls bouncing. “Come here.”

Claire took her hands and put them on her bump, and Maggie’s eyes lit up.

“If you are very patient,” Claire said, whispering to emphasize the importance of her words. “He may say hello.”

“Patient!” Maggie repeated, nodding again.

She practically bounced up and down, though she kept her hands glued to her Auntie’s belly the whole time. When the baby finally decided to kick, Maggie squealed. Claire and Jenny both laughed out loud.

“See?” Claire said. “There’s your wee cousin.”

“Hello baby!” she called, practically shouting at Claire’s stomach. “Baby cousin! Hello cousin!”

“You’re going to be so very helpful when he’s born, aren’t you?” Claire said, tickling Maggie’s own stomach.

She giggled. “Yes! I’ll help! Help baby!”

Claire kissed Maggie’s cheek. “Good girl.”

Jenny pulled Maggie over and covered her face with kisses, causing her to squeal all the more. “Run along now, make sure yer brother doesna damage wee Kitty.”

Giggling still, Maggie ran off to rejoin her siblings in the open field.

“Ye canna use that fer anything, can ye?” Jenny asked, picking up her mending once more.

“Not like this,” Claire said, smiling. “But I’ll cherish it nonetheless.”

She tucked the flower into a pocket in her skirt and picked up the sock she’d abandoned mending several minutes ago. Her cheek still felt warmed by the kiss that her darling niece had given her.

“Your children are so special to me, Jenny,” Claire said. “I can’t imagine what it will feel like to have my own child kiss me like that.”

“There are days when I take it fer granted,” Jenny admitted. She looked up at her children again, seemingly getting along for now. “But no’ today. The love ye feel fer yer child is…well, it’s the strongest thing I’ve ever felt. I look at them and I’m reminded I’d do anything fer them. Anything.”

Claire nodded in understanding, but she was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. Would she really do anything for her child? If that were the case, wouldn’t she have let Jamie send her back through the stones? This was a volatile world to bring a child into, with or without the dangers awaiting them at childbirth. If she’d truly do anything for her child, wouldn’t she have set aside her own wishes to bring her to a safer world, even if her heart would have died?

“Claire?” Jenny prodded, noticing she’d stopped sewing again. “What’re ye thinking?”

Claire swallowed thickly. She couldn’t tell her. Not right now.

“Just…worrying, I suppose.” Claire shrugged.

“Look at Maggie, Claire,” Jenny said pointedly. At present, she was holding Kitty’s hands and circling round and round with her. “The beautiful lass who just gave ye a flower and a kiss. I thought she’d die, Claire, honest to God I did. The second ye told me she’d be a breech baby I started accepting my own death as well as hers.”

“I remember.”

“Look at her now. She’s braw, she’s happy. During those hours and hours of agony, I never could have imagined this. This moment, now.” Their laughter, all three of her children, was loud as ever. “It makes sense that ye worry. Sometimes our worst fears come to pass. But sometimes, they don’t.”

Claire nodded thoughtfully. Maggie’s birth could have been dangerous even in the twentieth century, and they’d survived it in the eighteenth. Perhaps the same could be said for the little one that she carried now. There was really no way to know, and there was only one way to find out.

Another swift kick came, causing Claire to exhale sharply. Claire smiled to herself. She could practically hear Jamie admonishing their baby, telling him to stop beating his mother so.

“After all the work of carrying him around, this is the thanks he gives ye?” he would say. And Claire would assure him it didn’t hurt so very badly, and she would kiss him, and he would kiss their baby, rub his hands over her belly, quietly pleading with him in Gaelic to be kinder to his mother.

God, she missed him so.

——

August wore on, and Claire found herself settled in a comforting routine of breakfast, then gardening, then helping Jenny with whatever task, like laundry, mending, cooking. The herbs they’d planted back in June were doing quite well, and she now had a healthy supply of dried herbs for medicines and teas. Jenny had set aside a section of an old barn where she could properly hang things to dry, then come back to collect them and add them to her medical box.

Tending to her plants, taking little cuts and snippets, drying them, crushing them, mixing them, brewing them…it was cathartic for Claire. She was very grateful that Jenny had insisted she start doing this all those months ago. Her work was diligent and therefore mind numbing, and yet she was not working herself to the bone. She was getting the fresh air, the distraction she needed, without bringing any harm to herself or her baby. 

Occasionally her blank mind would be forced to return to the present when her nephew would barge into the barn, or when her niece would bolt up to her as she tended the garden with yet another flower that she simply had to add. She’d scoop Jamie up, hold him as high as she could to allow him to tie up a bundle of herbs with the others to dry, and thank him so very much for being so helpful. She’d take the flowers from Maggie and “plant” them beside the herbs, promising her that it would turn into a wonderful medicine that she could use one day.

“Flowers, Auntie?” She’d toddle up to her every day to check on them. “Me’cine yet?”

“Why, I think so,” Claire would say. “Look.”

And she’d show her the exact spot that Maggie had watched her bury the flower, and watch as her eyes popped out of her head to see the greenery that had “sprouted” overnight, which was really only Claire moving a few things around. Indulging her in this way had proved more of a feat than Claire had originally signed up for, because the more and more Maggie saw evidence of her efforts proving helpful, the more and more she wanted to help.

After a while, she’d had to gently tell her that there was no room for any more flowers, but that since it was so full, she needed her help to take care of it. She’d wholeheartedly agreed, eager to help her Auntie. Claire had deemed her “my little garden faery,” her wee helper. And Maggie loved it. Claire also adored it. It touched her heart in a way she could not describe that she’d been the one to bring her into the world with Jenny, and now she seemed to be attached to her at the hip. It meant more to her than she could ever explain.

Perhaps someday, when she was old enough to truly understand, Claire could teach Maggie medicine, really teach her. Perhaps someday the tenants of Lallybroch would have two healers to go to.

Claire watched from her garden as Maggie plucked weeds and flowers alike out of the dirt around the porch and the goat pen, singing in Gaelic to herself.

Yes, perhaps someday…but why rush away the beautiful innocence she possessed right now?

September arrived, and they were now in the throes of harvest season. The potato crop had done splendidly again, and though there was always the lingering fear of unknown possibilities, everyone was certain that they’d survive the winter once more because of it. Game had been difficult, seeing as they no longer had any guns to hunt with. They’d taken to setting traps in the woods surrounding Lallybroch, and for most of the summer they’d been lucky enough to have rabbit on and off every couple of days. Fergus would march himself right into the kitchen, proudly brandishing the wee beast from the trap he’d set all by himself. 

Claire was enjoying watching him thrive here. In Paris, he’d been confined to one small building his whole life, not to mention how unsuitable an establishment it was for children. Then even after Jamie had liberated him, his free spirit was confined by the high, brick walls of the city, his lungs clouded from breathing in the slums. In Scotland, at Lallybroch, he was truly coming into his own; as much as Claire hated to admit it, he was becoming his own man.

Of course, he was still only eleven—no, twelve years old (just turned it), hardly a man by any means, not yet at least. But he was unencumbered here. He had a family to belong to, a family to protect and provide for using the wilderness that surrounded him. If it wasn’t for his obvious French-ness, in his manner and accent, one would not question that he was a Highlander through and through.

And Jamie would be so proud.

Today, September the twenty-second, Fergus was gone for a peculiarly long amount of time. On the days where he checked the traps, he was gone right after breakfast and back in no more than two hours. It was nearing a third hour, and Claire was growing anxious. Was it irresponsible of her to allow him to run off into the woods alone? No, he could take care of himself. She knew that. Or perhaps she overestimated him. Twelve years old was still a child, whether or not the people of this time believed it to be so.

Claire was working fretfully on her garden, unable to bear the worst-case scenarios that whirled in her mind for much longer, when she heard hoofbeats come up the road. She whirled around and breathed a sigh of relief to see her boy trotting toward the house. Ian had taught him to ride over the summer, and he was getting quite good. Yet another thing that would make his father proud.

“Fergus!” she called as he got closer. “What on Earth took you — ”

And then she noticed the enormous bundle draped over the flank of the horse, behind the boy in the saddle. Fergus was beaming ear to ear, slowing the horse as he drew nearer to Claire.

“Is that — ?”

“A deer, Maman!” he said smugly, sliding off the horse and surveying his work proudly.

“How did you—? You couldn’t have shot it—?”

“No, Maman, the poor thing was in one of my traps,” he said, and his pride briefly morphed into sympathy. “They are meant for very wee animals, as you know, so it did not kill her right away. Just hurt her leg.” Claire couldn’t help but smile at his use of the word “wee.”

“It was very sad to see her suffering when I came upon her, but I knew she would only suffer more if I let her free. So I gave her mercy with my knife.” He gave a curt nod, like a little soldier. “And now we have lots of meat for supper!”

Claire laughed jovially and pulled him into a hug. Her hugs had become quite awkward lately, having to careen him around to her side so they could actually embrace each other. Two more months, she thought to herself. Two more months of feeling like an absolute tank in the way of everything.

She tenderly kissed the top of his head. “Wonderful job, mon fils. Why don't you join your uncle in the fields and I’ll see about getting it butchered, hm?”

He nodded, stretched up to kiss her cheek, gave her swollen middle a pat, and then scampered off around the house. She briefly caressed the spot on her cheek that he’d so briefly kissed, smiling to herself. He would never know how much his affection, his love, meant to her. 

Claire grunted and clutched her abdomen, exhaling sharply. Speaking of affection, she thought wryly to herself, smiling in spite of the most recent, ruthless blow to her womb.

“Easy there, little one,” she said, rubbing the spot. “You’ll knock Mummy right off her feet if you keep that up.”

“Good Lord, what is that?” Jenny suddenly appeared on the porch.

“A deer that Fergus killed mercifully after finding her in his trap.” Claire smiled proudly.

“Mo Dhiah!” she exclaimed, crossing herself as she approached the horse. “His bounty be blessed!”

“We’ll eat like kings tonight,” Claire laughed.

“Kings indeed!” Jenny gave the poor beast a pat on her flank. “Let’s get it ready then, shall we?”

It had been a great struggle to carry the animal inside to be butchered; many of their servants had had to be let go in the financial struggle that had followed Culloden. They were more apt to let go of the men first, as they would be more likely to find other work, and most of the male servants were attached to the female ones, either by marriage or because they were siblings. The Murrays were heart sorry to do it, and of course they hadn’t officially let anyone go until they found other work, but they simply couldn't afford to live like Laird and Lady anymore. The only servants left were Mrs. Crook, of course, who had firmly insisted that they’d have to drive her away with the switch (which had been met with “we wouldn’t dream of being rid of you, yer one of our own”), Rabbie, though he’d truly become more of a foster-son to the Murrays despite his status as their stable boy, and the Donnelleys, a widow woman and her wee daughter, serving as maids.

And so, Mrs. Crook, Jenny, Mrs. Donnelly, and even wee Laura, had struggled to get the beast inside. Claire had tried to help, but every single one of the three women had accosted her into stepping aside; how dare she, a pregnant woman at great risk, even think of lifting such an enormous beast?

Despite Claire’s initial annoyance, she was grateful for their concern. She hadn’t realized, but she was already quite sore without doing any heavy lifting. Once the beast was laid out, they each pitched in for its butchering. Jenny fussed over Claire all the while, never letting her do anything she deemed too strenuous. Even as her hormones raged and demanded revenge, she had to remind herself that Jenny was only looking out for her best interests, and she really was right. Claire had been very good so far about sparing herself from anything that would overwork her, and at seven months pregnant was perhaps the worst time to start changing that.

So she begrudgingly wielded the smaller knives, did not engage in any large swinging or hacking motions that would bring any greater pain to her back. Eventually the butchering was complete, and they separated the useful bits of meat and other things from the disposable bits. Mrs. Donnelly and wee Laura went off to be rid of what they didn’t need and then went about the rest of their daily tasks, leaving the sisters and Mrs. Crook in the kitchen to prepare the meat to cook.

It certainly was an all day affair, but the joy on the children’s faces, hell, even on Ian’s face made it all worth it. It was perhaps the heartiest meal they’d had in months. Everyone was all smiles, laughing, children and adults alike. Even Claire. She allowed herself to become lost in the food, in the drink, in the laughter of the children she had come to love and cherish more than her own life.

“Catching a full grown deer in one of those wee rabbit traps was surely God’s grace,” Ian said toward the end of supper, raising his glass to Fergus. “Either that, or our wee Frenchman is one lucky bastard!”

Fergus’s nose crinkled with the laughter he unleashed, and everyone else’s laughter followed.

“Sláinte!” Ian cried, and everyone echoed, even the children with their cups of water.

God’s grace…

Claire gave the table a glance over, her cheeks sore from smiling, her throat aching from laughter.

“Auntie,” wee Jamie pulled at her left sleeve, whispering.

“Yes?” She answered with contrived secrecy, leaning her ear closer to him.

“May I try yer whisky, Auntie?” he whispered, but the desired effect of quiet was not achieved, as everyone at the table burst into laughter.

Claire’s head fell back with laughter, before promptly covering the lad with tickles, kissing his head over and over.

“If big Jamie could have heard you say that…” Claire shook her head, still laughing.

“He’d surely give it to him!” Jenny said rolling her eyes at the thought.

“Uncle Jamie? He’d give me whisky?” 

“Aye, and I’d box his ears fer it,” Jenny said firmly. “No whisky until yer grown.”

“Fergus isna grown!” Jamie pointed across the table accusingly. Fergus put his hands up in surrender.

“Tell ye what, lad,” Ian said. “When you bring an entire deer home fer supper, ye can have all the whisky ye want.”

Without another word, Jamie sprang out of his seat and scrambled out of the room.

“And where d’ye think yer off to, and no’ excusing yerself?” Jenny called after him.

“I’m gonnae set a trap! Fer a deer!”

“Lord ha’ mercy,” Jenny sighed, exasperated. Ian laughed so hard he started slamming the table.

“Best be stopping the wee huntsman before he becomes a drunk at five years old.” Jenny stood up from the table, and Claire could see the glimmer in her eye as she followed after her headstrong boy.

“When can I ha’ whisky, Da?” Maggie suddenly piped, rising all the way onto her knees.

“Never,” Ian said, taking another sip of his own drink.

Claire chuckled to herself at Maggie’s adorable wee pout. “Oh, don’t worry, Maggie, my little garden faery,” she whispered into her hair. “When you’re old enough, Auntie Claire will share her whisky with you. Our secret.” She put a finger to her lips to emphasize discretion, and she copied, making an adorable “shh” noise. Claire laughed and kissed her forehead, overwhelmed with love.

God’s grace indeed, she thought, that these people are my family. 

Family in a conventional sense had been lost on Claire for most of her life. Both parents dead at five years old had left her traveling with Uncle Lamb for her childhood and adolescence. Then she was flung into Frank’s arms, then Jamie’s. Jamie had felt the closest to family she’d ever imagined, but this was different. This was a whole family, an entire wee clan that welcomed her with open arms.

My own family.

[pezberryandotherlesbians]

Things Change - Part Two

you can find Part 1 here

Sometimes Santana can’t tell what’s the truth and what she’s saying in aim of some sort of result. Most of the time, she forgets what she’s aiming for, too. 

When Brody arrives Santana is the first to greet him. ‘Good evening, muscles. May I take your coat?’ She leans in to whisper her next words, still loud enough for Rachel and Kurt to hear. ‘Unless you got a little somethin’ somethin’ in there you don’t want Rachel to see.’ ‘Santana!’ Rachel snaps. ‘She’s kidding, babe. Hi.’ She grips Brody’s arm and kisses him passionately. Santana grimaces and gestures sticking a finger down her throat. ‘Okay, gross. Even if he’s not a drug dealer the way he moves his lips like that is definitely a deal breaker.’ Kurt snickers before whispering a chastising, ‘Santana.’ ‘What? It looks like he’s trying to siphon something out of her throat.’ Santana adjusts her tight fitting black top. It’s mesh across her shoulders and the top of her chest, her long legs hugged by matching black material, minus the transparency. Her heels click across the floorboards as she flips the Fleetwood Mac record Rachel selected especially for Brody’s arrival. ‘Wow, guys. Do you remember when Mr Schue made us sing practically every song off this record for a week?’ She twists the cover in her hands then looks directly at Rachel. ‘I sang Songbird to Brittany. I wanted her to know, you know? Without having to say it.’ Rachel’s mouth falls open a little bit and her eyes flood with sympathy and something akin to relief. ‘That’s beautiful, Santana.’

‘Who’s Brittany?’ Brody asks, removing his own coat while taking no notice of the way the air has shifted, Rachel smiles gratefully at a nonchalant Santana.

‘Santana’s ex-girlfriend.’ Rachel answers.

‘Oh, bummer.’ Brody looks at Santana. ‘When did you break up?’

‘Brody, I don’t think Santana really wants to talk about that tonight,’ Rachel says quickly and quietly.

‘It’s fine, Rachel. Ken doll over here is practically our fourth roommate. I broke up with Brittany 6 months ago.’ Saying it out loud makes her stomach turn but she acts unfazed. If she’s going to get closer to Rachel, she's going to have to talk about this shit. She’s not even sure if she’s going to follow through will this whole

use Rachel as a distraction until the pain goes away plan

. But in any case, it’s fun to mess with her. And Santana needs a little fun.

‘Are you still in love with her?’ Brody takes a seat at the table and stares up at Santana with his dumb boy face. Rachel gasps and gently hits his arm. ‘Ow, sorry.’

‘Rachel.’ Kurt says warningly, fearful of Santana’s impending reaction. Little does he know, Santana is nowhere close to going all Lima Heights - again. And even if she wanted to, she wouldn’t. That’s not the way to get Rachel to trust her, and her trust is imperative.

Santana serves up the giant salad Kurt made earlier. It has some weird looking vegetables in it but she’s too hungry to question anything. She tried to make a snack earlier but Rachel just kept smacking her hands away, telling her not to fill up on junk. ‘In answer to your question, wax-man, no. I’m not still in love with Brittany.’

‘Wait, really?’ Rachel asks, unable to help herself. Kurt rolls his eyes.

‘Guys, seriously? Is there nothing else we can think to discuss besides Santana’s past lovers?’

‘Stick a sock in it, Porcelain. If Lars and the Real Girl want to know then fine, let’s talk about Brittany. And about how I am no longer in love with her.’

Rachel has that look she wears whenever she feels embarrassed. ‘I just assumed…’

‘Well, you assumed wrong, Berry. Anything else you or your boy toy would like to know before I dig into this terrifying salad?’

‘Hey, I made that!’ Kurt protests.

‘But you’ve seemed so sad. So-so

wounded

. You just go to work and come home and sit there and sometimes you hardly say anything and when you do it’s just this - this

venom

that I chalked up to being a result of your pain. But you don’t love her.’

Oh, crap

. Santana didn’t account for this. ‘Of course I still love her, Barbara. I’m just not in love with her like I used to be.’

‘I get that.’ Brody chimes in. ‘Here’s to moving on.’ He raises a glass and Rachel reluctantly pulls her gaze from Santana. ‘Happy Valentine’s day.’

‘Pass me the salad you pale, pale man.’ Santana snatches the bowl from Kurt’s hands. She pushes her fork into her mouth to keep herself from speaking. She needs to think about what she wants. And how to get it.

Later, when Adam comes over, Santana realises how desperately alone she really is. She cringes almost every time anyone says anything. It’s painful, really, especially when Kurt suggests they watch Mama Mia again. ‘Okay, no. Kurt? We just watched that. Remember?’ Santana takes another sip of her wine while she waits for him to respond. ‘Yes, but not with Brody and Adam!’ He says this like it really makes a difference. ‘Terrific,’ Santana drawls sarcastically. ‘Come on, Santana. I know you have a crush on Amanda Seyfried.’ Rachel says, a little flirtatiously, Santana thinks. Or maybe she’s just drunk. She did text Quinn earlier asking if she wanted to make their wedding hook up a three time thing, so she’s clearly not thinking straight. ‘As long as Kurt doesn’t cry again when Meryl sings The Winner Takes It All because he’s thinking about Blaine.’ Adam grows visibly uncomfortable and Santana smiles. ‘I was crying because I was thinking about Meryl’s rise to the top, thank you very much.’ Santana considers leaving the loft to hang out with the homeless cluster across the street as soon as Rachel and Brody start duetting during every song. ‘Please, for the love of god, shut up.’ Rachel pouts. She’s definitely drunk now, which makes Santana feel better about the way the room spins when she stands up. ‘Don’t go, Santana.’ ‘Turn off the movie and I won’t.’ She spills her wine across the bottom of her top because she forgets she’s holding it. ‘Goddammit.’ She walks clumsily to the bathroom, aware of Rachel trailing behind her. ‘Here, let me.’ Rachel grabs a towel and starts dabbing at Santana’s abdomen. ‘Are you okay?’ Santana frowns. ‘Besides the fact that you and Taylor Lautner have permanently damaged my hearing and sense of joy? Of course I am.’ Rachel gazes up at her. ‘We can talk about Brittany, if you want to. I don’t think I’ve been a very good friend to you.’ She looks upset, like maybe she might cry. Santana really doesn’t want to deal with this, but Rachel keeps dabbing at her hip even though there’s no stain there, so she’s not about to interrupt. ‘You’ve been fine, Berry. You’re right. I’ve been sulking.’ Sometimes Santana can’t tell what’s the truth and what she’s saying in aim of some sort of result. Most of the time, she forgets what she’s aiming for, too. ‘Is it true?’ Rachel asks, lifting Santana’s top to check if the wine went through to her skin. Santana shivers. ‘Is what true?’ ‘Have you fallen out of love with her?’ Rachel wipes her bare skin, then pauses. Santana considers it all. The truth, the lie she wants to tell. She answers when she realises those are the same thing. ‘I don’t love her like I used to. So, yeah. It’s true.’ Rachel throws the towel into the wash basket and lets Santana’s top fall back over her skin. ‘Do you still miss her?’ Santana leans back against the basin to steady herself. She’s dangerously close to seeing two Rachel’s. ‘I miss her. And I miss having someone. I miss sex, the intimacy.’ She doesn’t know why she’s still talking, but Rachel’s eyes are dark and her mouth is slightly parted. She’s looking at Santana like she wants to hear this, all of it. Like it’s doing something to her. Santana just can’t figure out what. ‘Do you miss Finn?’ Santana asks, hoping to deflect the line of questioning so she can catch her breath. Rachel looks at the floor. ‘Yes.’ ‘Do you love him?’ Santana grips the sink. She’s starting to sweat. ‘I think I always will.’ Santana knows that that is the answer she wanted to give Rachel. She loves Brittany, always will. And it’s not that she loves her less right now, she just knows they can’t be their best until they live. Until they have loved other people, even though she hates that guppy face puppy dog she’s chosen to shack up with. ‘Are you okay?’ Rachel is closer now. ‘You look kind of pale.’ ‘I’m fine.’ Santana wants to go to bed, but unfortunately there’s an assortment of men currently draped across her couch. ‘I think I just need to get some sleep.’ Rachel looks worried for a moment and then says, ‘take my bed. Brody and I can share the couch.’ 
Santana chuckles. ‘What, are you planning to sleep inside of each other? Actually, gross, don’t answer that.’ Rachel smiles, a little charmed by Santana’s consistency. ‘Go, get some sleep. I’ll try to keep the boys quiet.’ Santana looks at Rachel, like really looks at her. ‘Thank you, Rachel.’ She thinks about apologising for earlier, for basically assaulting Rachel against a fridge. Ascribing that word to it makes her feel nauseous, so she doesn’t say anything, just walks past Rachel and kicks off her heels before throwing herself onto Berry scented sheets. Her clothes quickly become uncomfortable so she sheds them until she’s in her lacy black underwear. It’s stupid, she thinks, that nobody is going to see how insanely hot she looks in these. She must fall asleep quickly because she doesn’t rouse at all until a tiny gremlin starts shaking her. ‘Santana, wake up. It’s Rachel.’ ‘Who else would it be, Hobbit?’ She slurs. She practically feels Rachel roll her eyes. ‘Move over. I need to sleep in here. Brody is having some kind of…well, he’s moaning and aroused and I can’t sleep next to him if he’s going to…just move over.’ Santana manages to cackle despite the heaviness that is pushing down on her. ‘Your boyfriend is having a sex dream next to you so you had to run away? What, scared he’s gonna spray you?’ ‘Don’t be so crass, Santana. I’m just not prepared to service him at this hour.’ ‘Jesus. Where did you learn to speak?’ ‘Are you naked?’ Rachel darts a hand out to touch Santana’s stomach. ‘I can’t feel any clothing.’ Santana thinks about smacking her hand away until she tunes into how nice the contact feels. Like earlier, but better. A ripple of arousal settles between her legs. ‘I’m not naked, but feel free to keep checking.’ Rachel huffs and climbs in next to her. ‘Are you naked, Rachel?’ This is all a lot more fun now Rachel is here, especially since Quinn replied saying she’s dating a new professor now so there’s no chance of a repeat. ‘I can’t sense any clothing.’ ‘Very funny, Santana.’ Rachel lays on her side, facing Santana. ‘I hope you’re feeling better than earlier.’ Santana cringes despite the darkness. ‘I’m fine.’ ‘Have you thought about dating?’ Rachel asks. She’s perky, a little too alert after her walk through the loft. She also desperately wants to continue their conversation from earlier, and it’s not every night she has Santana in her bed. ‘Why are you still talking?’ Santana rolls over, away from Rachel. The diva blinks at the ceiling and considers her options. After weighing up the potential fall out, she decides to continue pressing. ‘You said you miss intimacy,’ she whispers. ‘I said a lot of things. I was drunk.’ Santana is awake now. Despite herself, her wave of sleep has passed over her, leaving her to wade in the water with Rachel. ‘I know you meant it.’ Rachel says. ‘And I understand.’ ‘How could you possibly understand? You have a mannequin out there that is literally hard for you.’ Even saying the words makes Santana’s throat close up. The thought of Brody being any harder than he already is is too much for her to take. ‘That’s not intimacy.’ Rachel says, refusing to take the bait. She doesn’t want to detour them with a fight, not while they’re maybe, possibly getting somewhere. ‘What is it then?’ Santana rolls onto her back so she’s better able to hear Rachel’s response.

‘It’s sex. It’s physical. It has nothing to do with me. Well, not all the time. I don’t - I don’t love him. We don’t make love.’ Rachel admits, her voice quieter than Santana has ever heard it. She doesn’t know what to say, although she thinks back to all times she didn’t make love in high school. Before Brittany, maybe even after. God knows she’s not in love with Quinn. Something comes over Santana then. Something uncontrollable. It’s the same sensation she felt earlier when she pushed Rachel. She can’t take another second of this ache, the numbness beneath the pain. She needs to feel something else. In one movement she rolls over and finds Rachel’s face in the dark. When she kisses her she can feel that Rachel is trying to speak, but she stops after a second. She didn’t expect her to kiss her back, but when she does it wakes her up. She hears her own heavy breathing, Rachel’s whimper of surprise, the way small hands grip her arm, her waist. She pulls back like she’s tasted fire.

‘Fuck.’ She sits up, away from Rachel. This was not a part of the plan. The stupid plan that is nothing more than a game inside her own head, one she never should have given attention.

‘Santana, what…what was that?’ Rachel sounds more than just confused. She’s utterly dumbfounded. She touches her lips with her fingers, feels the moisture Santana’s left on her own. Her boyfriend is sleeping just a few steps away.

‘Shit, I was dreaming. I thought…I don’t know.’ It’s a flimsy excuse, a pathetic one that is practically nonsensical but Santana doesn’t know what else to say.

‘Did you mean to kiss me?’ Rachel sits up. ‘Or were you thinking of someone else?’ She sounds wounded already. Santana rolls her eyes.

‘Does that matter? Washboard is sleeping on my couch, remember?’ She feels like maybe they can just breeze past this. Chalk up to the darkness, the wine, the emotional conversation.

‘It matters.’ Rachel says softly.

Santana can’t make sense of this right now. Her head is pounding and she just

kissed

Rachel. ‘Why?’

‘Were you thinking about Brittany?’

‘Jesus, give it up already.’ Santana gets out of bed and searches for her clothes. ‘I’m just tired. I didn’t mean for this, okay?’

‘Quinn?’ Rachel sounds devastated. Santana squints at her through the darkness, trying to see something on her face that tells her what the fuck is going on.

‘God, no. Not Quinn. Not Brittany. Not anybody, okay?’ She slides into her pants. ‘I’ll sleep in the bathroom.’

‘Don’t go, Santana. It’s fine. We can forget about it.’ Rachel pleads.

‘You wanna forget about it?’ Santana doesn’t know why she asks. Maybe she just wants to feel like she’s back in control of this situation, and this is the only way she knows how. ‘You wanna forget about how that was the best kiss you’ve ever had? That Brody or Finn’s man lips don’t compare to my juicy, delectable mouth? Just wait until you feel my tongue, Rachel. You won’t even remember Barbara’s last name.’

She can see through the moonlight that Rachel’s jaw drops a little. She smirks, only faltering when she hears Rachel’s next words.

‘I’m going back to sleep with Brody. The bed is yours if you want it.’ She watches Rachel walk away, hears Brody’s deep voice welcome her back. When she crawls back into Rachel’s sheets, she wishes she could redo the last 20 minutes so much that it gives her a headache on top of her headache.

[swan--writes]

hi! this is going to sound incredibly stupid, and please i’m sure you’re busy with things but: high school sweethearts and fem!reader

Idk who you are but this is not stupid, and thank you for requesting this song! I had never gotten into Melanie Martinez, but I’ve had this song stuck in my head for the last few days and honestly, I’m way too into it.

This is a tad different for me, but I thought it’d be worth exploring.

Warnings: unhealthy relationship, implied infidelity, nod to sex (not graphic)

Words: ~980

It was a cycle between you. Ever since you first started dating in high school, you and Dewey hadn’t been the most solid couple. You could feel another low swing happening. You always could. By now, you would have thought that would be enough to prevent it, but it never was.

Step one: you must accept that I’m a little out my mind.

When Dewey arrived home, you were facing away from the door.

“Uh…hey.” You could hear the frown in his voice, but you didn’t look up from the task at hand.

“Hi.”

“What’s goin’ on?”

“Nothing.” You tossed a glance over your shoulder, but your eyes grazed past his face. “Why?”

“Um, I don’t know. This just seems like a weird time to fold the laundry.”

“Well, it was just sitting around, you know. Had to be done sometime, right?”

You heard Dewey stepping farther into the apartment. “I told you I’d do it tomorrow.”

“Oh, did you?” you asked distractedly.

“Yeah, Sunday’s always been my laundry day. You know that.” You could practically hear his head shaking through the nonplussed laugh he gave.

Your back remained to your bewildered boyfriend. “Huh. Well, the laundry on the couch was bothering me. Kept almost tripping over it.”

“Right.” Dewey hesitated. “Well, anyway, we should get to the restaurant. Our reservation’s in…” You rolled your eyes, hard, and waited for him to realize his mistake. “…oh.”

You sniffed.

Step two: this is a waste if you can’t walk me down the finish line.

“Hey, I’m sorry. Something came up with the band, and I–”

You held up a hand. “Look, just…just don’t worry about it, alright?” Taking your hand from the air, you pinched the bridge of your nose. “Why don’t you order something, and I’ll take care of laundry couch.”

“You sure?” But Dewey was already slumping past you.

You frowned and nodded emphatically. “Totally.” The bedroom door was in your line of sight and you watched as Dewey froze in it, but he only paused for a moment and shook his head again before continuing into the bedroom.

“Whatever, lady,” he muttered. You felt your nostrils flare, but continued folding. The couch was absolutely covered.

Step three: give me passion. Don’t make fun of my fashion.

When Dewey emerged, he was holding his phone up to show you. He had changed into sweatpants and a tee shirt. You were still standing, and still folding.

“Hey, is pizza okay?”

You shrugged. “Sure.”

“You, um…you weren’t planning on wearing that to the restaurant, were you?”

You glanced down at your dress – the pastel pinks, soft whites, and strategic cuts. “And what if I was?”

“Nothing, I guess. It’s, you know, experimental, I guess.”

“And here I thought that was a good thing. My manager certainly did.”

“Oh yeah, how is Kennifer doing these days?”

“Ken is doing just fine.”

“Yeah…yeah, I’ll bet.” Dewey started to walk past you again, this time to sit on a couch-perpendicular armchair.

“Use your words, Dewey,” you said.

Step four: give me more, give me more.

He sighed heavily through his nose and patted his leg agitatedly, but backed down from the challenge. “Why are you still folding?” he asked instead. “I told you I’d take care of it.”

“No, you said you’d fold them tomorrow. I’d like them taken care of tonight.”

“Honey, they’re my clothes. Lemme take care of them.” It was a careful statement.

“Darling, I’m already folding. I’ve got it.”

“Hon–”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It’s fine!” He was silent for three blissful moments, and the tension in your shoulders faded with every tick of his watch.

Then, naturally, he had to break it.

“Well, I guess you should change.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You could tell Dewey was biting his lip. “Why don’t you borrow one of those shirts?”

“Why one of these?”

“I just want you to be comfortable.”

“I am comfortable.”

“Okay, good.”

You hummed in agreement, but your jaw was tight.

Step five: you can’t be scared to show me off and hold my hand.

“It’s just that you don’t look comfortable.”

You took a breath and turned to face him, holding a pair of his socks. “You want me to change before the delivery person gets here.”

“You know, you can say ‘delivery guy,’ it’s just us here.”

“I meant to say ‘delivery person,’ I always say ‘delivery person.’”

Dewey held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, sorry.”

“M-hm.” He coughed.

Step six: if you can’t put in work, I don’t know what you think this fuckin’ is.

“So, what came up with the band?”

“Oh, you know…Zack had some trouble with his rhythm.”

“Right.”

“So, how is Kennifer? I mean, really?”

You shook your head once and half-shrugged. “Diligent, as ever.”

Step seven, this one goes to eleven: if you cheat you will die.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Die.

“Here, lemme finish the laundry.”

“I said I’ve got it.”

Dewey stood – not threateningly, but close to you. “Well then, lemme help.”

If you can’t handle a heart like mine, don’t waste your time with me.

“Jesus, Dewey, you’ve been saying you’d take care of it all week. You say you’ll take care of the dishes, or you’ll vacuum--you say these things, but you never follow through. Why is that?” You folded the socks and threw them down to the couch beside you. Dewey shifted his weight and sighed.

If you’re not down to bleed…

“Just ‘cause I’m not on your timeline doesn’t mean I won’t do it.”

If you can’t handle the choking, the biting, the loving, the smothering ‘til you can’t handle it no more, no more…

“When, then? After I’ve already stepped up? Have you ever actually taken care of anything since we’ve been together? Ever?”

Go home.

So quickly you hardly realized what was happening, Dewey had taken your face in his hands and smashed his lips into yours.

You started to shove him, thought better of it, and pulled him closer. One of his hands was toying with the bows at your back now.

You pulled back, but couldn’t get far. “God, you make me wanna tear your hair out.”

“Well, give it a shot,” he growled. This time when he kissed you, he lifted you fully into his arms. Your legs wrapped themselves around his waist.

High school sweethearts.

There was a knock behind you when he pushed your back into the wall beside your bedroom door.

Line up, they’re tryin’ to waste my time.

Another knocking when his hand landed on the door.

High school sweethearts.

A louder knocking when he hit his hip on the doorjamb after you bit his neck.

Shut up if you’re not my type.

“Hey! Do you guys want your pizza or not?”

.

.

Tags List: @skiddyyo @paxenera @a-okay-rj @the-geeky-lady @darkblueeyedperson @hannah-de-lioncourt @ironmansuucks @missihart23 @dinosaurias @heknowshisherbs

[renee-writer]

Room and Board Chapter 16 To Early!

“Oh no no!” Jamie, who had been packing for his next business trip, hurries in to the kitchen where his wife was. At first he thought she had spilled something. There is a small puddle of liquid under her. Then he sees her face. He quickly puts two and two together. “My waters have broke. It is far to early.” Said calmly before she breaks into tears.

“Eight months is not to bad. Don't panic love. I will just ring..”

“We know nothing! The breaths, the stages, oh bloody hell, her crib isn't even set up yet!”

They planned on a full day, last minute lamaze course when he returned in three days followed by a hospital tour and finishing the nursery. Now..

“Claire, women have been doing this for many a millennia without all that. You will not be alone. Come love, let's get you cleaned up and ring the Abernathy’s.” She is a bit calmed by his calmness. She lets him lead her into their room. He helps her out of her wet pants and into dry ones with a thick napkin to catch the waters. He rings the Abernathy’s and is told to bring her right into the office first. As he is talking to them, he gathers up what he thinks they will need at the hospital, extra clothes, phone chargers, lollys( he kens she can't eat in active labor), tennis balls in a sock for her back( he had done some reading) and Becca's homecoming outfit and some nappies. The carset was already in the car.

“Come love. We need to head to the office.”

“Not hospital?”

“They wish to check you first.” She stands and the first of the many pains to come, grips her. She stops dead and reaches for him. He places the bag down and takes her hands. “Breath with me.” He isn't sure he is doing it right but, it helps steady her and that is all that matters. When it releases her, he hurries them to the car.

“Well, you are in labor. Close to three cms dilation and fifty percent effaced.” Gillian tells her. She had rode out five contractions since the first one and is glad they are doing something.

“So, to hospital?” she asks.

“Yes, I know you are concerned about her being early. But, she is strong and healthy. She has gained weight as you have and, though still will be small, baby Beauchamp should be just fine.”

“Baby Fraser. Rebecca Julia Fraser.” Jamie corrects as he helps his wife through another contraction. “We are married.”

“Sorry. With everything forgot to..” she stops as the pain reaches it's peak. They breath through it.

“Okay. Glad you did. I wouldn’t have found you under Claire Beauchamp.”

“No. For her, you see, to give her a daddy.”

“I see. Congratulations.” She sees more then that. She sees the way Jamie looks at her. Convenience for her but love for him. She prays he isn’t hurt.

“Thank you.”

“Off to hospital. I will be right behind you.”

He is separated from her during check-in. He takes the time to make some phone calls. First to his business partner and Godfather, Murtagh.

“Jamie lad, where are you? The train leaves in less then an hour.”

“I can't come. You know the material better then me. You can do it alone.”

“Why can't you come?”

“My wife is in labor.” Dead silence. He really had buggered thos whole thing up. This is the first time hearing about any of this.

“Your who now?”

“It is a bit complicated. I've no time to give you a full explanation. Ring Jenny. I promise to sit down and explain it all as soon as possible.” He rings off before he can say more and rings his sister.

“Claire is in labor. Murtagh kens but only my wife is in labor. I had no time to fill him in. Will you?”

“Take a breath brother. Aye, I will. Keep us updated. We will be praying.”

“Thank you Jenny.”

“Son of a bitch, this hurts!” Claire cries out as she stops and presses her back against the wall. She and Jamie had been walking for hours. The contractions or' the bloody pains straight from hell' as Claire calls them, have been getting longer and closer together. Her ability to take them with grace is long gone.

“Breath love. It is almost over.”

“I want to pull his cock and balls over his bloody head and down to his arse. Then he may feel what I am.” She declares. He winces at the thought and at the knowledge of the pain she is in.

“I can’t do this anymore. I want to go home. I will come back tomorrow. Okay?” she asks Gillian and Jamie a few hours later.

“Sorry luv. You are almost at seven. It will be over soon.” Gillian sooths. Jamie cringes. He knows the worst is coming.

Bloody f*cking hell!” Her grip on Jamie's hand tightens to the point of pain but he says nothing knowing hers is so much worse.

“No Claire! Use that energy to breath. She and you need oxygen.” Gillian orders. She tries, he he, breathing with her for a few seconds. But, as she reaches the crest and feels like she being torn into pieces, she screams. It is all she can do.

“Good Christ! Can't you give her something?”

“It is far to late. She is to close.”

“Help Jamie! Oh please!” There is nothing he can do but assure her it is almost over.

Transition lasts but twenty minutes, fifteen contractions, right on top of each other. It is the closest they come to experiencing hell on earth. When Gillian says that she can push, they both breath deep sighs of relief.

“Press down as hard as you can. Good. Just like that.” She sits, knees up, her back against Jamie's chest.

“Wait! Oh, how will they know that she is ours? I mean, you know.”

“A band will go on her hand that matches you guys' as soon as she is born. No worries there. Another contraction. Push.”

It turns out to be the easiest part. With her being a wee thing. A few good pushes later, and she is crowning. A few more and she is slipping out.

“Here she comes.” As her body clears her mam's, she has the band placed around her right hand and she is lifted up on to her mam's chest. Her startled brown eyes meet her mam's honey colored ones.

“Oh, it is you. Hi.” Claire says, through her tears as she strokes her hand over her soft black curles and over her strangly pale skin.

“Hello lass. I am your daddy.” An equally choked up Jamie adds.

After a few minutes, in which the afterbirth is delivered, Jamie cuts the cord and she is taken away to be weighted, measured, and bathed. She is returned wrapped up in a pink blanket with a pink cap on her head.

“Four pounds ten ounces. Eighteen inches long. But very healthy.” Gillian announces as Jamie cuddles her.

“Her skin. Will she stay light?”

“No. It takes a few days for black and biracial babies to get their true color.”

“Okay. Small but okay?”

“Yes. You did good mommy.”

“Do you wish to breastfeed her?” a nurse asks after she gets Claire cleaned up and comfortable on a clean bed.

“It is best for her. Yes, let’s try.” She helps her position the baby, shows her how to get her mouth open wide and how to make sure she takes all the nipple and areola. She is soon contentedly sucking. Jamie walks back in from making calls.

“Jenny says congr.. Oh look at her!”

“It is so weird. It feels so weird, in a good way. Though it makes my uterus contract. It will help, they say, us both.”

“I can see that.” He watches with a grin, softly touching her head. “God, she is a beauty.”

“She is. A relief. I can see… but I see her more.”

“It is what I was praying for.” She smiles and rest her head against his shoulder.

“Rebecca Julia Fraser. Mother: Claire Elizabeth Fraser. Father James Mackenzie Fraser. “ She feels out her birth certificate with a huge smile. The protection the Fraser name offers is tremendous. Jamie signs it with pride. She is now a Fraser, protected by a clan almost as auld as Scotland.