#my heart was broken over and over again in a thousand little ways every single day and i had to spend almost 24/7 w the person who was

[4ngelofmydreams]

thinking abt how i had booked flights to see my ex and stay w them for 12 days and how the night before i left i met up w a friend i hadn't seen in a while and told her "i'm visiting my gf in [several countries over] tmrw but i have this feeling that they want to break up w me" and my friend was like "its gonna be fine bc there's NO way anyone would do that to themselves or u to have u visit for so long even tho they want to break up" and i was like yeah i'm sure ur right i shouldn't worry abt it *proceeded to go through the worst two weeks of her entire life*

[wildfloweronwheels]

A pit of nausea is boiling in my stomach today. It’s fury and fear and a sadness that sears to the bone. It swept in suddenly as I opened my phone to the news that three of Taylor Swift’s shows in Vienna, Austria have been cancelled by police due to the thwarting of a terrorist attack. Reading that sentence, I’m back in 2017, chest burning with horror and grief at the bomb that went off as young women danced and sang their hearts out with Ariana Grande. We know what attacks like this look like, we’ve felt them before, their echoes held in the minds and hearts of every live music fan across the world even now.

So, there is also relief swimming in the sick, that the police got to this in time. That they made the call that means thousands of people quite literally live to see another day. My head is spinning thinking about what could’ve been. Feeling for the fans, musicians and Taylor herself whose lives have orbited at least a little around the glittery nights they were promised. The friendship bracelets.  The cowboy boots. The glorious high of screaming ‘Fuck the patriarchy’ in a sold out stadium. The expectant hush that falls over things before the opening chords of a surprise song. The putting together of pieces in the mashups that follow. I know it’s just a concert; there’ll be more of them, we hope, but it’s also not…

It's yet more proof that we didn’t need, of an ugly truth, splashed in oozing neon. It rears its head all over the world in millions of foul devastating ways every single day and yet it still hurts every single time. The thing that most frightens men and boys is a woman succeeding. A woman living. A woman thriving. A woman feeling joy. Women gathering together in a communion of emotion that borders on the sacred, because it’s so rare in its safety and warmth.

 That’s how I would describe the nights I was privileged enough to spend at the Eras Tour earlier this year. A singular celebration of all a woman has made through her own blood, sweat and tears. A visual and musical experience underpinned by one of my favourite quotes ever from the glorious Carrie Fisher, “Take your broken heart, make it into art.” If you’re anything like me, it’s soundtracked your own.

We’ve watched that heart break and heal again and again. Blows dealt by men loitering in a girlhood they had no place in. By ill-fated romance, snuffed out because egos couldn’t bear the load or because two people just weren’t the right fit.  By calculated campaigns designed to distort an image, dismantle a reputation and lay ruin to a legacy. And yet she’s here. And so are we. Women, I mean. Again and again we resist. We persist. We insist.

Our joy is not yours to steal. Our lives are not yours to threaten. We will keep finding it. Rising. Screaming. Teaching the boys and men around us to be better. Defying. Demanding. Deciding. I’m not interested in what you think about Taylor Swift’s music or her privilege, a financial sheen that I remind you protects from no bullet or harm being done to you or innoc ent people, in your name.  In fact, it invites it. Over and over again. But I am interested in how you talk about this moment. Right now. The one that almost happened but didn’t. It’s a sliding door so what are we going to make sure waits on the other side of it?

[usmsgutterson]

Hello!I saw your requests are open and I'm so excited because you're such a good writer!! If it's alright, could you please write "If we have to leave our bed today, I will kill the resin we have to" hugs from your prompt list with Kaz x Reader? Maybe when he's a little older maybe late 20's and is a lot more comfy with touch (still has bad days/moments of complete touch aversion of course) but maybe he's slightly touch starved if anything in this fic? Thank you xx

Autumn- K.B x gn! reader

Hi!! This request was very fun--I always love writing/reading these types of fics because what can I say, my favs deserve to grow and change--so thank you for sending it in!

I know I'm probably starting to sound like a bit of a broken record with it now, but I am also very sorry for how long this took! I've been meaning to write it since it came in but life and motivation slipped away for a bit there. I hope you like it despite how long it took and again, I am SO SORRY!!

Fic type- this is so so so SO fluffy!!

Warnings- there's a couple of mentions of anxiety in relation to his touch aversion and kaz's touch aversion is discussed a lot. Kaz is also probably a little ooc, and this was written at around half past midnight and then queued for later, so the editing might not be as good as it could be

As Kaz woke, he found that the first day of autumn was to be your favorite kind of day. The kind where the leaves had already begun to change colors, the kind where a downpour hit Ketterdam, the kind where such a downpour still didn't manage to drive the pigeons away from the clubs and the two of you had not a thing to worry about in the world because you refused to allow yourselves that kind of worrying.

One of his arms was draped over your waist, his chin against your shoulder, and his heart kicking off at a racing pace because of it.

Waking up like that still sometimes sent his body off into a thousand different directions, each one more fervently anxious than the last, but the come-down from the anxiety and the anxiety itself had been easier to get through as time went on.

Kaz ghosted his lips against your shoulder. Everything is fine, he told himself. I am fine. I am holding the person I love, and they are alive, too, and we are alive together.

He felt you stir, wrap your arms around his waist, and effectively pull him into a hug.

You pulled away after a minute, and Kaz's hand moved up, gently tracing your lips.

"Any obligations?" You asked.

"None of note," Kaz said. "Or--none that I am unwilling to leave to tomorrow."

You grinned. "So, a day in bed it is, then?"

One of your arms moved to rest against his shoulder, your hand finding his hair like it were clockwork.

"If such is what you fancy," Kaz said. "I, of course, fancy it too."

You laughed. Kaz pulled you closer and you let him, content to be wrapped within the embrace that it had taken him a decade to be able to pull you into.

Kaz's touch aversion had been something that you never really minded. You loved him regardless of the fact that he couldn't touch you, and his actions made up for all of the hugs, kisses, and affections in the world anyway.

But, when you were eighteen and Kaz found that the mere idea of holding your hand was something with which he still struggled, he decided he was going to find a way to get better.

He wanted to do it for you, for every wistful smile you gave when you watched Matthias press a quick kiss to Ninas cheekbone, for every single one you gave when you would notice Jesper approaching Wylan, only to wrap his arms around Wylans shoulders and press a kiss to his forehead when Wylan leaned back and said hello.

But, on the other side of that coin, Kaz decided to do it for himself. Jordie had died when he was nine, and while he wasn't sure he would ever stop grieving the brother he'd lost to Pekka and his cons, he knew that he could not scorn the idea of touching others forever. He could not forever put off the idea of ending a business deal with the shake of a hand in his ungloved one, couldn't forever glare at people who'd dared touch his arms or hands or shoulders in passing.

A decade had gone by since he'd made that decision, and all in all it seemed to have paid off.

Sure, there were indeed bad days, but that was to be expected. Things like a long lasting touch aversion don't just go away overnight, and Kaz knew that. You knew it, too, and you didn't fault him for those bad days whatsoever.

"I love you," you said as Kaz pulled away enough to press a kiss to your forehead. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," Kaz said, part of him cringing at how long it had taken him to repeat the words back. The two of you had started dating when you were eighteen and Kaz couldn't say the words until you were twenty-three, when you'd already been saying them for a year and telling him that his actions spoke louder than his words and that you didn't need to hear him say it back.

He'd stopped viewing love as weakness at twenty-three, when an old but well respected gang associate had told him that trying to think love made him anything but strong was idiotic while the group was on a heist in Ravka.

The bloke was seventy, maybe, and had apparently adopted that mindset early on into his life. He'd kept it up til he was in his fifties and cost himself a family, a partner. Thinking of love as a weakness was something he'd gone on to regret, and while he'd indeed found the love of his life at fifty-two, he still regretted all else that the mindset had cost him.

Loving you, he realized, made him strong. On his most difficult days, you were there to offer a listening ear and a solution.

Love was not a weakness, as it turned out, and some days, despite what the seventeen year old Kaz Brekker might've said if he knew, love was what kept twenty-eight year old Kaz Brekker going.

One of your hands treaded through his hair before moving down his forehead, along the scope of his nose and his cheekbones, then his chin and his lips and the center of his neck, finding the divot at it's end that indicated the middle of his collarbone.

Kaz decided, in that moment, he would kill the reason you needed to leave your shared bedroom if one came up. He loved moments like those as much as you did, cherished them with everything he had because they were few and far between.

You pulled him down just a bit, pressed a kiss to his forehead and then a quick peck to his lips after he'd nodded and affirmed it was okay to, and Kaz looked at you and all that he could think of was the fact that you were so close.

You were so close to him, and he was so close to you, and he didn't want to do anything more than get closer.

"I love you," he said, breathless and touch starved and full of enough yearning to last five lifetimes.

"I love you too," you responded. Kaz's lips dipped near yours, and when you nodded, he kissed you.

It was kiss that said everything that Kaz couldn't manage to form into words, gratitude and joy and contentedness and sheer, undying and fiery love.

When Kaz pulled away, you were grinning, and so was he.

Eventually the two of you drifted off to sleep again, the only thoughts in your minds having been how much of a joy it was to be in the others company.

[nolita-fairytale]

still into you | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | chapter two: friday

summary: big announcements are made at the james beard house dinner, and carmy tells you how much you mean to him.

warnings: swearing, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking

word count: 4.6k

listen to: in transit - albert hammond jr. | nightswimming - r.e.m | friday i'm in love (cover) - phoebe bridgers (playlist here)

a/n: remember when i accidentally posted this earlier today at the start of the american work day? that was weird. anyways...

read: chapter one | bonus smut scene

Friday

The way that the four of you flow together is like a symphony – each one of you so committed to your craft – to excellence – and the feeling you get sends chills down your spine. It’s a sign of how far you all have come, which is what the menu is all about this evening. It was Syd and Carmy’s idea: each dish presented this evening would embody a part of The Bear’s story. You’d even worked with Marcus on elevating his signature chocolate cake, wanting to keep the heart and soul of it, even if it had to lean a little more towards the fine dining side of things.

Never in a million years would Carmy have thought that, on his first day at The Beef, that you’d all end up here. After all the chaos, all the swimming upstream, it felt near-impossible that something so disorganized and broken could become something so beautiful. 

He’s near-shaking at the idea of what he has to do next, but he also knows that this is a story he has to tell. It’s not really something he’s spoken about – at least publicly – and not to the food world. 

But he can’t tell the story of The Bear without Michael. 

He feels like he’s sweating through his chef whites, but you remind him that he’s going to be great. It’s a huge step in his healing journey and after a long talk about it, Carmy had decided it was something he felt he wanted to do. 

“Before we wrap up the evening, we have one more dish before dessert,” Carmy says, earning the attention of the dining room full of people. 

He hopes his voice isn’t shaking too much, and he nervously fidgets with a spoon he’s holding in his hands while you and Sydney stand behind him as literal and emotional support.

His face feels hot. He feels like he wants to throw up and cry at the same time, and he looks back at you for reassurance. 

You nod your head in his direction, a comforting smile on your face, as Sydney grabs your hand. You’re both nervous for him. 

You can do it, Bear. Let it rip. 

“As some of you may know, three years ago I left New York to go back home and take over the family restaurant – the restaurant that would eventually become The Bear,” he explains.

“This dish is uh… it’s really special to me,” he says, trying his best not to let his voice break as he continues.

“It’s an ode to my late brother: a play on the braciole he used to make for me and my sister every Sunday.” 

The dining room gets quiet, each person hanging onto every single word that Carmy says, his vulnerability palpable. 

Carmy suddenly feels emotionally exposed, but he knows there’s no turning back now. He can practically hear Mikey’s voice in his head, encouraging him, pushing him to let it rip. Knowing that he’s got you and Sydney behind him gives Carmy the extra boost of confidence he needs to get through this speech. 

As he explains each component of the dish, it becomes easier to fake it: fake some confidence, fake that he’s not crumbling inside. Carmy knows how to talk about food so he leans into it, even if it feels like his voice is caught in his throat. It feels like second nature -- like falling into an old pattern he's practiced a thousand times -- as he hides behind his tough, calculating, diligent exterior. But he feels as if he’s just put his open, bleeding heart on a plate, and it's impossible for him not to feel.

Carmy clears his throat before concluding his presentation with, “So thank you again for dining with us this evening. Uh… Chef Sydney has some news she’d uh… we’d like to share with everyone.” 

He thanks the gods that he made it through.

He can’t wait to get out of the spotlight. 

Carmy moves aside, letting Sydney take center stage, and he can feel the blood rush through his head – an almost dizzy-feeling. As he stands next to you, you bump up against his shoulder, giving him some comforting touch, in an effort to ground him.

“Thank you, chef,” Sydney begins, glancing back at Carmy. “And thank you for sharing this dish with us. I know that it’s something you hold close to your heart and our story of The Bear wouldn’t be complete without it.”

The dining room full of people begins clapping once again and it gives Carmy a moment to zip himself back up emotionally. He only reminds himself that he has a few moments left of being in front of people. While he may be an expert at fooling everyone else with his stoic exterior, you can see he’s struggling to hold it together.

“And thank you again to everyone for coming out tonight. We have some really exciting news to share. After putting our heart and soul into The Bear, we are at a point in its journey where we can expand,” Sydney begins, earning a few excited whispers from the room.

“We felt tonight would be the perfect time to announce that we will be opening up a second restaurant – a separate concept that I will be leading as CDC in Chicago. I’m really excited to have this opportunity to develop my own concept with my business partner, Carmen Berzatto, and to lead my own kitchen.”

The entire room erupts with applause once again as the wait staff begin to bring out Carmy’s perfectly plated beef dish. Carmy nods as a signal to you and Syd and you both follow him back into the kitchen. 

“Stay. I’ll go help Marcus,” Sydney says to you, reassuringly.

She rubs a sympathetic hand over Carmy’s upper back before saying, “Good work, chef.”

Sydney hurries over into the prep kitchen to help Marcus plate dessert, while you hang back with Carmy in the hallway. He’s avoiding your gaze and you can tell he’s trying his best not to lose it right then and there. His body is still – frozen in a moment of time. There’s a tension that runs across his chest and into his shoulders that hadn’t been there at the start of the night. He looks like he hasn’t taken a breath since his speech began either. 

“That was really beautiful, Bear,” you say softly. He still won’t look at you, but you understand why.

“Thanks,” he nods curtly. 

There’s a silent tension between the two of you and you know what you need to do next. 

“What do you need?” you ask. 

“Think I uh-, just need a little fresh air,” he mumbles, his voice breaking a little, before clearing his throat again. 

“‘Course. Marcus, Syd and I have got this,” you encourage him. 

You wait as Carmy slips out back for a break, before making your way back into the kitchen. Loving Carmy through his grief sometimes looked different. Some days he’d need space. Other times he’d need you – crawling into your arms and allowing you to care for him. Together, you’ve had to learn how to ask, and he’s had to learn how to tell you what he needs. 

“How’s Carmy?” Sydney asks with a concerned look on her face, causing Marcus to look up from the plate he’s working on. 

“He’s okay. Just needs a break,” you answer. You’re not worried about him. You know how painful that was for Carmy, and you’re more than happy to give him the space he needs to sit with it. 

“What can I do?”

And then Marcus is handing you a few extra plates, asking you to double check his previous count to ensure that every single plate went out in a timely manner. 

Carmy returns about ten minutes later, ready to jump back in. He’d just needed a timeout – a moment to feel the enormous swell of emotions that had come up when talking about Michael to a dining room of eighty people. Soon enough, he’s helping plate the tiny chocolate layer cakes, with an olive oil ice cream, and a tahini caramel drizzled over the top. 

Dessert is the last dish to be brought out, and as Marcus presents, the four of you receive a standing ovation at the James Beard House. It’s like for the first time in a week, Carmy can breathe again. He feels like a one hundred pound weight has been lifted off of his shoulders, and his heart swells with pride over how the night’s gone. Everyone’s liked the food, you all have worked so beautifully as a team this evening, and he can’t believe he got through his fucking speech without crying in front of everyone. 

Entirely exhausted yet filled with a grand sense of accomplishment, the four of you drag yourselves out of the James Beard House and back out onto the streets of NYC. You’re not sure who suggests it, but you’re grateful the idea has been brought up as you’re carrying pizzas you picked up on the way back to the hotel. Piled onto the two full beds in Marcus and Sydney’s room, the four of you can finally celebrate a job well done. 

“Yo, I think I like the Sicilian slice better,” Marcus says, polishing off another piece of the pepperoni and mushroom. 

“Oof,” Carmy sounds, watching your face for your reaction. “You’re playing with fire, Marcus.”

Sydney snorts, “Fuck. We’re finally able to relax. No one kill each other, please.”

“What? We’ve already had the Chicago vs New York pizza debate,” Marcus says, throwing up his hands as if he’s innocent. I know what I’m getting myself into! I’m just sayin’ the Scilian slice is giving mad Chicago vibes and it’s dope.” 

You laugh, shaking your head, while Carmy playfully nudges you. 

“Okay, while pepperoni and mushroom is a classic and you know I have mad respect that, as a New Yorker… hard disagree on your style of pizza, chef,” you say back, starting on a new slice of one of the remaining NY Style pies. 

“You know what’s fucking fire? Pepperoni and jalapenos – pickled, not fresh,” Sydney chimes in and you all reply in a chorus of agreement. 

“Hundred percent,” Carmy says. 

“Never fresh. The sour tangy brine is key,” you add. “At least we can all agree on something. 

“You know what’s fucking wild?” Marcus begins, looking across the three of you. “We made this whole fancy ass meal, yet we’re eating pizza in a hotel room at the end of the night.” 

Carmy laughs dryly, “Yeah, man. It’s kinda par for the course.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Seriously!” Sydney exclaims.

“Speaking of, how was your stage at per se?” you inquire, curious to hear about his experience in the fine dining kitchen. “We barely had time to catch up this morning about it.” 

Truthfully, you’d all been so focused on tonight going well that no one had really talked about it. 

“Man,” Marcus sighs. “It was cool. But like. Now I know what you guys are talking about when you say a chef only let you zest lemons for three months.”

You laugh in response, thinking back to the time blood orange juice caused you an existential crisis. That existential crisis – the one that led you to quitting your job, leaving fine dining behind for good. 

“And it’s like… the whole staff works as a machine. Kitchen’s more like a science lab than a kitchen. I got lucky, huh?” Marcus continues and Carmy shakes his head. 

“Yeah, per se’s a lot like where we used to work,” Carmy says with a shrug. 

“Should’ve seen Alinea. It’s very… science lab meets art school,” Sydney adds. “Inspiring… but cold.” 

“Damn,” Marcus shakes his head, feeling luckier than ever that he got to learn from the three of you instead. 

“Wait. Syd, how was your supper club?” you ask, suddenly remembering that she hadn’t had a chance to tell any of you yet. She had, after all, gotten home late last night, only to get up early to go with Carmy to Chelsea Market. 

“Oh my god,” she gloats. “So fucking cool. Like unreal. You guys have to come with me next time.” 

“I uh-,” she starts again, as if she has a secret. “They actually asked me to come back and do a pop-up dinner, especially with the new restaurant opening. I mean, they want to do a collab with me!”

“Okay, I see you,” Marcus calls out, proud of his friend. 

“Of course they do!” you cheer her on. 

“What do you think, chef?” she asks Carmy, searching for approval in the way his face changes as he hears the news. 

“I think… you’d be silly not to. We’ll work out a time for you to come back up here once we get the new restaurant up and running,” Carmy reassures, respect and pride in his eyes as he exchanges a look with Sydney. 

“And of course, I want you guys back here with me. Like… are we the fuckin’ dream team, or are we the fuckin’ dream team?” Sydney celebrates, reliving the memories of this evening. 

Tonight has been so incredible and Sydney wonders if this is what it feels like to be at the top of your career. She wants to savor the moments of this weekend, replaying them over and over again in her head. 

“Oh 100%,” Marcus confirms with confidence.

“Absolutely,” you promise.

A temporary quiet settles between the four of you as you reflect on the evening. Carmy is quiet again, caught up in his head as he’s filled with a deep sense of gratitude: for all of your hard work, for how well the evening went, for his team. 

You all are his people. 

And he’s never had people before. 

Not until now. 

“Thank you guys. For tonight,” he says, his tone serious. “You guys were rockstars, and... I couldn’t have done it – any of this – without you.” 

“Aw, Carmy,” Sydney smiles, savoring this rare tender moment with Carmy. 

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” Marcus reinforces.

“Of course,” you smile proudly. 

You each take a moment to feel it all: accomplishment, the gratitude, the love and genuine respect you all have for each other.

“Not to ruin the moment or anything,” you begin, half apologetically. “If anyone’s up for more fun food debates tomorrow, Carmy and I have a fun little tradition I’d love to share you guys.” 

You and Carmy exchange glances and it’s as if he can read your mind. 

“Walking dumpling tour?” he questions. 

You confirm with a nod. 

“What’s the-?” Marcus begins to ask as Sydney finishes his question with, “... the walking dumpling tour?”

“A fun little thing we used to when we still lived here,” you reply. “Hit up as many dumpling spots as we can in search of the best pork dumplings that Chinatown can offer. Hell, I’ll make up a scorecard and we can rate them.”

“Sounds fun. I’m in,” Marcus says. 

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Sydney agrees. 

Carmy checks the time on his phone. 

“Yo, it’s getting pretty late. We should probably head to bed,” Carmy says to you. 

“Oh shit. It’s almost midnight?” Sydney asks, seeing the time on the hotel room clock. 

“Yeah. Guys, this has been fun. Seriously, great work tonight. I’ve missed this so much,” you sigh, totally satiated. 

“You know there’s always room for you at The Bear,” Marcus says genuinely, before adding, in a more teasing tone, “You can send me your resume and I’ll take a look. Nah I’m just playin’!”

You laugh, playfully rolling your eyes, “Okay, it is definitely bed time.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, goodnight you guys,” Marcus replies.

“Goodnight.”

As you and Carmy leave Sydney and Marcus’ room, it dawns on you that you’re not quite ready to go to bed. While you’re exhausted, and should be in a carb-induced sleepy pizza-coma, you’re wired from the adrenaline of being back in the kitchen. 

“Hey, Carm?” you ask, stopping him as he fumbles with the room key. 

“What’s up?” he asks back. 

You pause for a moment, and as you speak, there’s a certain hesitance in your voice, like it’s the first time you’re asking someone out on a date.

“Do you want a drink?”

He’s caught off guard by your tone of voice, curious to know where this is going. 

“Now?” he asks back with a half-smile plastered to his face.

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I-, I don’t know if I’m ready to go to bed yet.” 

You can see the hesitation on his face as he thinks it through. While Carmy knows there are plenty of bars still open in NYC right now, he’s not sure he wants to leave the hotel. 

And neither do you. 

You offer your hand to him, “C’mon. I’ve got an idea.”

*

“I don’t know if we’re supposed to be here,” Carmy states nervously, looking around the empty room. 

He’s bouncing his knee up and down as he sits on a bar stool, alternating between watching you behind the bar, and looking around to check for anyone who may catch you. The bar itself is poorly lit, save for the pool lights outside, that come flooding in through the large floor to ceiling windows. 

“We’re not,” you reply, without a care in the world.

He lowers his voice before asking, “What if we get caught?”

You giggle, “You are such a baby, Carmen.” 

He rolls his eyes as you search for what you need, pouring the appropriate combination of liquors into an old fashioned glass.

Gin. Campari. Vermouth

After stirring them together over ice, you reach for an orange and y-peeler that the bar is stocked with, shaving off a piece of the orange peel. 

“Besides, isn’t that the fun part?” you ask, a glimmer of mischief flashing across your face. 

Carmy shakes his head, averting his eyes as he brings his hand up to his mouth, “You’re a bad influence on me.” 

You snort in response and it’s your turn to roll your eyes at him. 

“And you love it, my little rule-follower.”

“Relax, Carm. I’m gonna leave $40 behind the bar for what we took and we can go back to the room when I’m done if you’re so worried about it,” you offer as a compromise, the tone of your voice still a rebellious one. 

He has to admit that he finds your devil may care attitude incredibly sexy. Carmy’s not sure whether he’s anxious or turned on right now. 

 “Yes chef,” he finally agrees, cheekily. 

“Lighter, please,” you request.

Carmy pulls his lighter from his pocket, tossing it to you. You catch it, immediately flicking it on, using the flame to torch the orange slice. 

Just a spritz of the orange, and then the rest of the peel for garnish.

You hand Carmy the drink from across the bar, before working on your second one.

He looks down at the deep red colored liquid before saying, “Sweetheart, you know I hate gin.” 

But you’re one step ahead of him. 

Only moments later, you’re stepping around the bar with a second glass of whiskey on the rocks prepared for him. You trade glasses with him, and he can’t take his eyes off of you as you finally say:

“Cheers.” 

Clink. 

“Cheers.”

You both take your respective first sips, making sure to hold eye contact with him as you do. He looks at you, and you’re not sure if he’s more surprised that you haven’t gotten caught or that he’s willfully watched you break into the hotel pool bar. 

“Thought you said we could take these back to the room,” he challenges. 

You smirk, even though your heart is filled with pure adoration for the man standing across from you. 

“Yes, chef.”

It’s an easy choice to take your drinks back to the room, opening the french doors that lead to the terrace. You pull a spare blanket from the hotel room closet, curling up with it outside. You drape the blanket over both you and Carmy as you settle down on his lap. He’s brought his lighter and a cigarette out with you, so you close the french doors behind you so that he can light one up. 

You haven’t stayed up this late with Carmy in a while. It feels good – spontaneous and a little rebellious – like anything could happen at any given moment. New York City always seems to bring this side out in you. 

It’s home. 

But Carmy is also your home. 

Having the two of them here all at once is an indescribable feeling. You enjoy the bitter taste of your negroni, the cool spring air kissing your skin as you sit on your boyfriend’s lap. Carmy enjoys his cigarette, his whiskey sitting on the patio table in front of the two of you, as he exhales the smoke away from you. 

“Does being back here feel… I don’t know. Weird to you?” Carmy asks, breaking the quiet between the two of you. 

It’s like he can read your mind, again.

“Yeah,” you answer. “But it’s a good weird. I think maybe because we have all these memories here, you know?”

He takes another drag off the cigarette and it’s your turn to ask him a question. 

“I wonder what would’ve happened if you hadn’t spilled your drink on me that night. You think we still would’ve become friends?”

He’s quiet for a moment as he thinks about it. 

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, answering honestly. 

You let out a small laugh. 

“Hell of a way to get a girl’s attention.”

“Wasn’t trying to.”

“Bullshit.”

He’s telling the truth – sort of. He hadn’t been trying to get your attention, though he had spent most of the night racking his brain for any kind of conversation starter – get out of his own fuckin’ head. But he’d spent most of the night overthinking and coming up with reasons not to. He had sort of been your boss back then, after all.

He waits a beat before admitting, “And maybe the only way I would’ve even talked to you that night.”

You hum in response, taking another sip of your negroni. 

“Even then I thought I’d fully fuckin’ blown it.”

“You didn’t,” you say, shaking your head. 

“Uh… yeah I did,” he smiles, shooting you a ‘c’mon’ kind of look. “The first time you ever actually talked to me and… you’re fuckin’ furious. I was terrified.”

You can remember your first real conversation with Carmy fondly – even if it hadn’t been the fondest experience at the time.

“Baby, you ruined my shirt!” you exclaim with a laugh. “I had every right to be mad at you.”

“I wasn’t sure I’d see another day after that,” Carmy recalls, shaking his head. 

“Also. Who drinks a soda the night they get the biggest promotion of their career?” you add, referring to the coke he’d spilled all over you the night he’d gotten promoted to CDC. 

“Pop,” he corrects you. “... is a perfectly normal thing to drink at a bar.”

You roll your eyes playfully, “It’s not. But I love you anyway.”

The staff of the restaurant had wanted to go out and celebrate Carmy’s new position, only Carmy hadn’t seemed like he was in much of a mood for celebrating as he’d refused shots all night. He’d been so nervous to talk to you all night, the recently hired pastry chef, and you’d assumed he hated you considering his cold and stoic demeanor at work seemed to translate to you outside of it as well. He thought for sure he’d blown any chance of getting to talk to you that night, when you accidentally bumped into him and he’d spilled his soda all over you. Your shirt was soaked through, and your friends had rushed in with a spare t-shirt for you to change into. You’d come to find days later that it was Carmy’s shirt that he’d had in his bag.

That soda – and his chivalry that evening –  had set it all in motion.

“After all that, think we’d be here?” he asks, his eyes more like a sad, sweet puppy than ever before.

“No,” you answer honestly with a half smile. “But once I got to know you, I hoped maybe we could get here.”

He sighs, searching for the right words to tell you how he feels. The love you have together is more than he ever thought was possible for himself, and being back here with you has brought up so many memories of not feeling like enough. 

“It kinda feels…” he begins to say, choosing his words carefully. He wants to get it right. “...like. I don’t know. Kinda like we’re going backwards and forwards at the exact same time, you know?” 

You take another sip of your drink, processing what he’s said. He’s nailed it and you just need a moment to sit with his words.

“Yeah,” you sigh, like he’s finally named that thing you hadn’t been able to. “Like our past and our present are colliding or something.”

Carmy nods in agreement, “Yeah.”

You sit together in your comfortable quiet, listening to the sounds of the city below you: sirens, car horns, music from the bodega across the street. 

“I don’t know if I ever told you… how much your friendship meant to me back then. I wasn’t… well, I wasn’t in a great place,” Carmy admits, his eyes piercing and honest with his words. There’s a sadness to him and you wonder if this has been weighing on him over the last few days on top of everything else. 

“I know, sweetheart,” you reply empathetically. 

“I know we’ve talked about…” he trails off, searching for what he wants to say. “... how much we mean to each other now. But you meant so much to me back then too. I don’t-, I don’t know if I ever told you.” 

“Carmy,” you say, your heart swelling with love for the sad mess of a man whose arms you’re wrapped up in. “You didn’t need to. I-, I knew because… because you meant so much to me back then too.” 

He pauses, wondering if he should keep going, and coming to the conclusion that he wants to – not for your sake, but for his. 

Because he wants to tell you. 

“When we met… I wasn’t… planning on letting anyone in,” he continues. 

“Hmmm, didn’t notice,” you joke with him. 

He gives your hips a squeeze, causing you to giggle as you snuggle a little closer to him, hugging the blanket around the both of you. 

“I thought for sure I didn’t need anyone. Sure as hell didn’t want anyone. Had gone so long without someone to-. It just didn’t make sense for me anymore.”

You listen quietly, wanting him to give him the space to say what he needs to say. 

“You know, my sister used to say, she used to tell me that one day I’d wake up and I’d need someone. Someone other than Mikey and his friends – the kids I grew up with. And I didn’t believe her. And then he cut me out and-. And I got really fuckin’ good at it. At the food. At being alone….”

And then you came along.

“But you didn’t push me… you didn’t ask me to be anyone that I-. You just… let me be me… even if I didn’t give you much to work with at first. I think… Sugar was right. I needed a friend back then… and you were always a friend. Are always… It’s why I love you.” 

You’re grinning, and you’re also so, so proud of him – how far he’s come – to be able to tell you all of this. 

You lean over to set your drink down on the patio table. You only have one thing to say him, as you hold his head between both of your hands:

“I’m so in love with you, Bear.”

*

read: chapter three

a/n: the above first conversation/meeting that carmy x reader talk about WILL be written for my 'make my heart surrender' prequel everyone buckle up for the will-they-won't-they bc we all know THEY WILL

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos

[probably-writing-x]

Armour - Chapter Five

Summary: Having your heart broken was one thing. But Rafe watching somebody break your heart? That was something nobody could prepare for.

Warnings: Cursing, I thinkkkkk that’s everything?

Author’s Note: I LOVE this series and I LOVE y’all for loving it <3 thank u thank u thank u thank u

———

You’d been in the same routine with Rafe for over a month now, constant calls, constant conversation, constant effort. And it had got to the point of feeling like second nature - like your hand reached for the phone at the same time every day when you knew his shift would be ending, you cooked your food and knew to wait for him to finish cooking his before you’d both facetime and start whatever film or episode you’d picked for the day. Since that one random day, he hadn’t said ‘i love you’ again, and you were yet to say it back. So far, you were sticking to your promise of waiting to see each other.

It was a strange feeling, really. You’d been single for two months now, though it hadn’t really felt like the kind of single you expected you’d be. You thought you’d still be crying if you thought about it, or you’d be scrolling through old photos on your phone acting like they were memories you hated, fearful of every day you were having to spend alone without the person you’d spent nine years of your life with. But… you were okay. You slept just fine on your own, you ate in restaurants and in cafes alone, you were experiencing a new city by yourself. And it was in those moments, all of the little bits that made up a day, where you truly realised that you’d moved on from James. Part of you would probably even want to thank him for ending the relationship when he did, maybe it was the best thing he could’ve done for you. You felt like yourself again.

Where Rafe fit into that new version of yourself was something that you hadn’t yet decided. It worked strangely well with the two of you thousands of miles apart, would things change when you were back to being at home. You couldn’t stop thinking about it. Were you fooling yourselves to think that it would ever be the way it was when the two of you were younger?

—__—__—

“(Y/N) hurry your ass up!” Rafe hisses from the car, quietly screaming into the air.

The passenger door is open and he’s leaning over the console towards the empty seat, watching as you tug your shoes on at the door, stumbling over untied laces to find your jacket and keys. There’s a mess of blankets tucked under one of your arms and you grab a pillow from where you’d left it on the stairs before hurrying out towards him.

“Shhh,” You hiss in return, tossing your stuff into the back seat of the car before climbing in.

Rafe had passed his driving test only two weeks before, and his father had bought him this truck almost instantly - you’d joked about him being spoilt but you weren’t exactly complaining now that it finally gave you the freedom to do things like this. Right now, it was 4:45am and the two of you were sneaking out to drive over to the far side of the island to watch the sunrise. If your parents knew that you were going, they’d give you the talk on how you had to watch yourself with Rafe - how you had to keep a fair distance from him. So far, you were yet to listen to that advice.

“You know, I still don’t trust you to drive,” You shake your head, resting your feet up on the dashboard of his car.

The summer heat was stifling in the Outer Banks this year, and even at this hour of the night, the windows of the car were rolled down to try and alleviate some of the burning in the air.

“Oh yeah? Don’t trust me?” Rafe raises his brows at you, gripping the wheel a little tighter as he swerves the car left and right down the street.

“Rafe!” You exclaim a hand reaching out to grip his arm.

He laughs a little, the kind that creases his eyes briefly. Rafe straightens up the car and glances away from you to focus back on the road, “You can trust me. Just get your shoes off my dash.”

—__—__—

When your phone rings a few days later, you don’t expect to see Cleo’s contact flash up on the screen. It’s late over there, and even later over here. You’d been fully asleep when the phone had first rang, fumbled around on your nightstand to find your phone and eventually managed to answer the call before it rang out.

“Hello?” You croak out, flicking on your bedside lamp as you prop yourself up in the bed, your mattress practically begging for you to return to sleep amongst the sheets.

“(Y/N)!” She exclaims excitedly on the other end of the call, “I’m so sorry, I know it’s late.”

“No, no,” You clear your throat, blinking the sleep from your eyes, “Is everything okay?”

“Well…” She pauses like she’s waiting for someone, “We’ve got news.”

“We?” You frown, dragging a hand through your messy hair.

“We’re engaged!”

Both her and Pope’s voices speak at the same time, only half a second delayed from each other as his voice trails to finish the phrase just after she had - but both of them sharing the same excitement in their tone that seemed to radiate through the screen.

“Oh my god I-“ You exclaim with as much energy as you can muster, “Congratulations!”

“Thank you!” They both say in return before Cleo continues on her own;

“We just couldn’t wait to tell you. Please tell me you’re coming home soon, we need you here to celebrate!”

Your eyes trail over the dark shapes of your room, barely visible in the low light, but they eventually settle on your laptop set out on the small desk occupying one wall of your bedroom. In a few clicks you could have the flight booked. Your Air BnB reservation ended in two days anyway, and you hadn’t exactly thought of what you’d do after that. The thought of going home had been one you’d been putting off for a long time but you had to bite the bullet eventually. Going back might make you stop running from it all, but maybe you didn’t need to be running anymore.

“Um, yeah, yeah, definitely, I’ll be home soon.”

—__—__—

“Rafe I swear to god you’re taking up way too much space,” You nudge at his side again and again as he laughs beside you.

“I’m not doing anything! You’re just dramatic,” He points out, “You’re going to miss the sunrise at this rate.”

“Move over!” You exclaim once again, trying to push his form towards the other side of the truck.

The two of you had set up your makeshift camp in the open back of his truck. There’s a single pillow propped up behind you, in the middle so that both of your heads could rest on it, and the blanket was sprawled over the top of both of you - though Rafe was probably taking more than half of it.

“There’s no space!” He shakes his head, stretching up one of his arms to tuck under his head, his hair flattened against the bend in his arm.

“You’re the worst,” You roll your eyes at him, eventually accepting defeat as you shift to lay back down in the space next to him.

You’re at a weird angle with the pillow shared between you and your neck is crooked to try and keep a good enough view of the sky in front of you. For now, the view was still littered with stars, but they’d disappear soon for the sun to instead break over the horizon. It was peaceful, nobody else on the island would be up this early. There was something about that for you and Rafe - a comfort you found in nobody else. He was your best friend, though you would never admit that to Sarah.

“Okay, question,” Rafe comments, “Do you think you’ll stay here after school ends?”

“Here?” You frown, both of your eyes staring at the point where the water met the sky.

“Yeah, here, in the Outer Banks.”

You take a deep breath. School finishing was still over a year away - that felt like a lifetime. Anything could happen between now and then. But the thing about living in OBX was that it generally felt like nothing ever happened. You couldn’t imagine being here forever, but you couldn’t exactly imagine being anywhere else.

“I don’t know, maybe,” You return, “Would you?”

He doesn’t respond for a little while but you watch his shoulders shrug when you turn your head towards him, “I guess, I’ll have to be here to take over from Ward anyway.”

Both of you fall to silence and somewhere in the calm, you move your head to rest on his shoulder. It’s comfortable, like it grounds the two of you in the moment - both forgetting completely about the discomfort of the entire setup you’d made in the truck. Rafe tilts his own head so that his cheek rests atop your head, seemingly melting his form against you like he relaxes completely.

“I couldn’t imagine being here without you,” Rafe mumbles into the dead air, “I don’t think I could be anywhere without you.”

As he speaks, the first glimpses of sunlight poke above the clear horizon and spill onto the water. They catch on the flat waves and dip over to reach you, brightening the air around you.

You take in a deep breath and lean closer against him, “You’d be lost without me.”

“Yeah, yeah, I think I would be.”

—__—__—

There aren’t any direct flights between London and Norfolk, of course, and it feels weird when you arrive at JFK - so close to Rafe and yet incapable of seeing him. He was in meetings all day today and apparently it was something really serious, though he told you it was way too boring for him to explain to you. With the flight times and shitty service, it had been a while since you’d spoken to him anyway, but it felt weirder than ever to be going back home now. You didn’t feel like the same person you were when you left, and it felt like your entire life had changed in the last couple of months. But you were going back home, more sure of yourself than ever.

The taxi drops you just outside of Sarah and John B’s house and you drag your suitcase along their driveway with a strange anticipation.

Before you can even knock, the door swings wide open.

“Oh my god you’re really here!” Sarah exclaims, her arms outstretched wide to hug you.

You grin and drop the handle of your suitcase, hurrying over to her. You hug her cautiously, her bump swollen in the space between you - much larger than when you’d seen her last.

“I’m so happy you’re home,” She lets out a sigh of relief against you, “I missed you way too much.”

You laugh and step back from her, looking down at the bump, “And everything is going well?”

“Yep, two months to go, nursery is pretty much done now,” She smiles, “And if John B makes any more furniture for the baby, we won’t have any space in the house.”

“Did you expect anything different?” You smile.

She leads you inside and tells you that your old room is still there for you, obviously. And it feels like a little piece of you has returned home, truly.

—__—__—

The sun has fully risen before either of you think to move but you start to hear the way Rafe’s breaths even out beside you. Somewhere between the night meeting the day, his arm had moved from his side to wrap over you, his hand resting across your torso. You hadn’t thought to move it - it just felt natural. He’s snoring just slightly, barely audible, but it seems to rumble in the air between you as his head snuggles against yours.

You tilt your head just slightly, enough that you can catch a glimpse of him. His soft features. The way his cupid’s bow dips prominently above his lips, shadowing over where the slightest hint of stubble grew across his upper lip. His hair needed cutting but he hadn’t thought to worry about it yet. His eyelashes look longer than ever as they fan down to cast shadows just over the faint dark circles under his eyes.

In that moment, you know. You’d stay here if he was here, you’d go if he left, you’d want him to follow you if you went. Because home wasn’t in so-called ‘paradise on earth’, or with your family or by yourself - it was with him.

In your movement, he stirs from his slumber and his lips part with a groan, stretching beside you as his arm disappears from your torso, leaving a hot mark in it’s absence. He stretches his legs out and his arms extend above his head until eventually his eyes follow suit and open too.

“What time is it?” He mumbles through his fatigue, blinking against the now blinding sun.

“Um, like nine I think,” You return, leaning up onto your elbows.

“We should head back,” Rafe grumbles, pushing himself up to sit, the blanket falling around his hips, “Good to go?”

“Um, yeah, yeah, sure,” You nod, shuffling yourself out of the back of the truck and following him around, going your separate ways to the driver and passenger seats.

The two of you drive home quietly as the rest of the town starts to wake up around you, businesses opening and cars passing by you on the busier roads. Rafe taps his hands on the wheel in time to the quiet music coming through the speakers, and every so often he hums along, silencing when he pulls into your driveway and puts the car into park.

“Okay, now I have a question,” You speak into the space between you, leaning your head back against the headrest of your chair.

“Go ahead,” He leans his head back too, rolling it so that his eyes are focused on your direction.

“Did you mean it earlier? That you couldn’t imagine being here without me?”

Rafe laughs lightly but you’re sure you catch the sight of his cheeks turning just a little bit pink, “Are you kidding? There’s nobody else that I like here.”

You smile a little and bite your lip so that it doesn’t extend too far onto your face, “I jus-“

“This place is unbearable, you know that. If you weren’t here I’d be bored out of my mind,” Rafe continues, “Then again, I can’t imagine you want your entire life to be here. You’ll go to college, probably find someone, settle down somewhere that’s not here.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding, “Yeah, yeah, maybe.”

“You know Sarah thinks there’s a guy at school that likes you, maybe you should go for it,” He persists, raising his eyebrows at you.

You can’t quite figure out the expression on his face, one that seems as though it’s hiding the slightest glimpse of pain. But Rafe was always good at hiding his emotions.

“A guy at school?” You shake every other thought out of your head, the slightest quiver in your voice that you try to avoid focusing on, “Did she say who?”

“Some guy called James,” Rafe traces his finger over the curve of his steering wheel absently, a sort of glass look to his eyes.

“Oh, right, I didn’t know,” You clear your throat, “Maybe you’re right - maybe I should go for it.”

—__—__—

“Is this okay? Or is it too fancy?” You brush your hands over the material of your dress, checking it over in the mirror once again.

You were getting ready to go to the engagement party that Pope and Cleo were hosting at his parents’ house. They’d told you to dress fancy but you never really knew what that meant with this group - JJ would likely still show up in shorts.

“You look gorgeous!” Sarah exclaims, fixing her hair in the other mirror - getting ready like this felt like being back to when the two of you were younger, gossiping over things that were likely to happen at the next party, dreading the thought of seeing people you hated.

You’d opted for a flowy silk dress, one that Sarah had in her closet but had never worn. It hugged your curves and flowed airily around your legs, thin spaghetti straps either side of your chest. Your hands brush over it once more before flattening over the slick back bun of your hair, tilting your chin to check your light covering of makeup.

“Okay, okay, I’m ready,” You nod, oddly nervous to see the people that had known you for a short forever.

It didn’t feel like you were the same person that they’d known before, just slightly changed in every aspect by the loss of what you thought was your future, perhaps changed even more so by the realisation of what you really wanted instead.

You grab your bag from the bed and follow Sarah downstairs to where John B was waiting with the car already running, engine humming impatiently in the air.

It’s a short drive across the island to where Pope’s family home was and John B parks the car amongst the few dotted vehicles of people that were already there - JJ’s bike is on the far side against the porch, accompanied by the similar one that he’d got for Kie, spending months working on doing it up.

You follow Sarah and John B across the way to the front door, already open to let in the air and the flow of people coming to congratulate the happy couple.

Instantly, you’re met with Pope and Cleo as soon as you enter, their faces lighting up at the sight of the three of you.

“Congratulations!” You all say in chorus, enveloping the couple into some sort of group hug in a mess of all of your arms.

You jumble through questions of ‘how did it happen’ ‘did you cry’ ‘what did your parents say’ before spending at least a minute in awe of the ring decorating Cleo’s hand - it had belonged to Pope’s grandmother.

“Well, we bought you these to say congratulations,” John B holds out the flowers in front of him, a bouquet wrapped in brown paper .

“That’s so sweet of you, thank you!” Cleo beams, “Would you mind putting them over on that table? I’ll go get you guys some drinks too, what do you fancy?”

“I’ll take them,” You offer to John B, taking the flowers from him along with the couple of cards you were already holding.

There are already bouquets of flowers lined up along the table, along with a few cards all expressing different forms of congratulations. You set the flowers into one of the available vases already filled with waiting water and make sure they look somewhat presentable against the other fancy bouquets. Just as you go to set down the two enveloped cards, your eyes brush over the ones already there. There’s one from Pope’s parents with a heartfelt message that almost brings a tear to your eye, another from JJ and Kie with a message along the lines of ‘fucking finally’. But there’s one out of all of them that catches your eye - handwriting you’d never forget.

To Pope and Cleo,

Congratulations to the two of you on your engagement. You were meant to find each other .

Rafe

There’s a lump in your throat before you’ve even scanned the words, reading them over again just to make sure the name was what your mind was telling you it was. No. He must’ve just sent it in the mail. Right? It could’ve got here in that time. Then again, this was the Outer Banks - nothing ever ran that fast. Maybe he sent it as soon as they told him. Maybe?

“(Y/N)?”

It’s John B that speaks up from behind you and you can’t help the flinch in your shoulders as he snaps you from your thoughts.

“Everything okay?” He says as you turn around, a frown settling between his brows, “Pope and Cleo said everyone else is outside - I thought I’d come and get you before we went out.”

“Right, yeah, of course,” You clear your throat, “Sorry, just looking through the cards.”

“I got you a beer, is that alright?” He outstretches his arm to you with a cold bottle of beer held in his grip.

“Perfect, thanks,” You offer a smile in return, taking the drink into your hand to slightly mask the shake of your fingers.

You follow behind him through the house until the two of you reach the final room and he stops in his tracks, so abruptly that you almost knock into the back of him.

“What are you do-“ You’re cut off as he steps aside, far enough for you to see what stood right in front of him.

There’s a lump in your throat almost instantly, a sort of numbness in your entire body, a determined focus on not dropping the bottle in your hand as the cool condensation seems to itch at your skin.

He’s there. He’s here. He’s home.

His hair is shaved now, cropped short against his head, and there’s a tan to his skin seemingly enhanced by the cool grey of his suit, the crisp white of his shirt. His eyes are on you and only you.

Somewhere in the moment, John B has made himself scarce, sure that each other are all you need in this moment.

“I took a wrong turn on the way to work,” Rafe says nonchalantly, his lips curling into a smile as he speaks.

You laugh gently and set your bottle down on the nearest surface, stepping across the short distance between you to wrap your arms around him quickly, finding their way around the back of his neck.

Rafe chuckles gently against your ear as his head dips into your shoulder, arms around your waist strong enough to lift you up from the floor.

His laugh in your ear breaks into a symphony around you, like an entire chorus has just begun as the simple sound of his joy. A symphony for him. For being home.

“Why didn’t you say?” You pull away from him enough to look at his face, scanning his features, your hands on either one of his shoulders.

Rafe shrugs gently, hands settling on your waist, “I didn’t decide until you were already on your flight. And then I just left, I just knew I had to be here.”

“I can’t believe yo-“

He hears your voice crack over the words and takes it as his instant task to stop your tears.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Rafe shakes his head, “I’m mainly here to see Pope.”

You laugh and the tears in your eyes seem to settle, sniffing them back just to be sure before you step reluctantly away from his arms.

“It’s really good to see you,” He confirms with a sincerity you couldn’t even try to deny.

It lights up a smile onto your face that you were sure wouldn’t ever be matched by anyone else, a brightness only he brought to you.

“Yeah, it’s really good,” You nod, hand slipping down from his chest.

He catches it before it falls completely to your side, lifting up your hand in his as he laces your fingers together, squeezing gently before pressing a kiss to the knuckle of your ring finger.

Rafe doesn’t need to say more, and neither do you. It’s enough in that moment, nothing else needed. Your hands drop back down to your sides, still laced with his as he picks your drink up from the counter and hands it to you, leading you out to the group outside.

It was an odd feeling really - not a single one of them commented on it. Nobody thought to make a corny comment about the two of you, or pick up on the way he stood so close to your side, the way he looked at you when you spoke, the way his eyes lit up when you laughed. Because, for the first time, all of this felt just a little bit natural - like the two of you starting to gravitate towards each other. And all of them were happy to let it finally happen.

For the rest of the party, you and Rafe mingle separately around the crowds. He speaks to Sarah about how the pregnancy is going and tells her he still can’t believe it is happening. You talk to Cleo and Kie about starting on wedding plans, and Kie says she can’t even start to imagine what JJ will say in his best man speech. They ask you about London and tell you that you looked the best you’d ever been - and you agree, it’s the best you’ve felt. JJ jokes that James would be kicking himself for the next decade for losing you. It’s another realisation that you’ve moved on when you don’t feel anything at the mention of his name.

Eventually, darkness starts to slip over the garden and the warmth of the sun slips away just a little.

“Hey,” You’re greeted by the feeling of a hand pressed against your back, soft and certain against the dip towards your lower spine.

You turn your head slightly and glance at Rafe, his form towering over behind you.

“Fancy getting out of here for a bit?” His face has that same boisterous energy that he had when the two of you were seventeen, the same brightness in his eyes.

“Okay,” You hum in response.

He slips his jacket off from around him and sets it over your shoulders, squeezing the skin before his hands leave you.

With that, you follow him out around the back of the mingling crowd of people, down towards the side of the house that would lead out down to the water.

“It’s crazy seeing them two engaged, isn’t it?” You comment, “And with Sarah and John B having a baby.”

Rafe nods, matching the stride of his steps to walk alongside you, “A lot is changing, we’re all growing up.”

You laugh and follow him down the dock, watching the way the moonlight seems to reflect from the water and into his eyes. He sits down on the edge of the wooden dock and stretches a hand back for you to sit down beside him, helping you lower yourself to the makeshift seat.

It’s peaceful, the sky and the sea quiet around you.

“So,” Rafe nudges his shoulder against yours, “Are you happy to be back?”

“It’s nice, it’s comfortable, you know?” You nod, your hands in your lap.

All of you wants to reach out to him but there’s a slightly irrational side of yourself that is scared to, fearful of overstepping a line that neither of you had drawn.

“Yeah there is something nice about coming here, knowing everywhere, knowing everyone,” Rafe continues, “I know when the sun sets and what stars you can see, which route gets you home faster away from the tourists.”

You laugh, “Yeah, I don’t think anywhere in New York would get you away from the tourists.”

“I liked New York,” He persists, “It was a good escape.”

“Was?”

“Well, I can’t just leave my job there or anything, but I don’t need to escape anymore,” He smiles gently at you, dimples prominent on either side of his cheeks.

Both of you fall to silence again and he reaches over to take your hand into his, still resting the interlocked hands over your lap.

He’s certain then, as he’d been certain with so many other things recently, that he knows it. He knows that this is all he’d been waiting on. A moment of peace, with you, your hand in his. Knowing you were here, that you were home.

“Do you remember when you first got your car?” You say quietly, letting the words catch on the breeze in front of you, “When we used to sneak out together.”

He chuckles deeply, “Of course I do, I’d come and pick you up in the middle of the night and we’d find the sunrise.”

You nod, “There was one day we went and you fell asleep on me and I remember laying there and thinking then that I knew. I knew that I wanted to be with you, that I wanted you by my side.”

“But I-“

“You drove me home and in the car you told me that I should give James a chance,” You swallow the lump in your throat, staring at an unmoving spot in the water, “I went out on my first date with him four days later. I knew I was in love with you and I still went with him.”

“Why didn’t you-“

“I was so terrified of losing you as a friend that I spent that entire first date convincing myself that I liked him and I didn’t need to love you. And I did the same on our next date too, and again and again and when he asked me to be his girlfriend I said yes without a second thought because part of me really believed that I could do it - that I didn’t need to love you anymore,” You let out a shaky breath, “I was kidding myself for nine years.”

Rafe looks down at your hands intertwined and smiles to himself, a little laugh passing his lips.

You turn your head to look at him, hints of a frown toying between your brows, “Are you laughing at me Rafe Cameron?”

He turns to look at you, “I told you to wait until I saw you for you to tell me that you loved me, and I think you just did.”

You can’t help the ferocious heat that claws at your cheeks and you bite at your lip to stop your smile from spreading too widely over your face, “I think I just did.”

Rafe grins, releasing your hand from his to cup your chin between his thumb and forefinger, drawing your focus solely to him. Slowly, but with nothing short of certainty, he pulls himself in towards you, eyes flicking down to your lips before he presses his against yours in the softest kiss the world can muster. It’s gentle and calm, and your hand moves up to grip his shoulder as if the contact needs to ground you into this exact moment. He deepens his kiss against you, fingers shifting from your chin to around your jaw, fingers stretching to the back of your neck as his thumb caresses your cheek, fingers gripping you into him.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” He half laughs as he pulls away, his forehead pressing into yours, lips curling into a smile as his breath fans hot over your skin.

You laugh and bring your hands to either side of his face to hold him in your grasp, as if reminding yourself he was really there.

“God, I love you (Y/N).”

“I love you too.”

———

Taglist: @viianey @baby19sthings @tsokaro @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @starkeylover @kylianswag @eggingamazinglove @allsmilesreally7 @m-indkiller @maybankslover @shara-ne

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

New Romantics | Spencer Reid

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a bad breakup, Reader and her friends go out to party where she meets one young FBI agent. Suddenly, she'd forgotten her ex even existed and was more interested in getting to know the stranger.

Warnings: alcohol use, reader is drunk for half of this, mention of puking, not proofread, it's generally just not really good but it's the best I can do.

Words: 1.4K

It had been ninety-two days to be exact. Ninety-two days of crying into tubs of ice cream, not wanting to admit that it was over and partying non-stop. It was day twenty when her friends had had enough of her wallowing and forced her into a little black dress and heels, and took her out to party. 

Ever since that day, the partying hadn’t quite stopped. 

Her heart had been broken in a thousand pieces, smashed to a pulp and stepped on by one person alone. The one person she once loved but now absolutely loathed. Charlie Denisco. Now the most hated person in her friend group. 

The partying did help a lot with working through the heartbreak. She didn’t know if it was because she wasn’t holed up in her apartment underneath every possible blanket she had or because of the alcohol, but whatever it was; she felt herself slowly healing. 

“We should find you a new love interest,” Sasha, one of her best friends, stated as she hooked an arm of hers with y/n’s. 

Scoffing, y/n shook her head while Lila voiced her thoughts. “This isn’t a romantic comedy, Sash.”

“What if we made it to be?” Sasha shrugged, earning raised eyebrows and glares from her friends. “Come on! Think about it! We’re out, partying, looking hot as shit, most of us single as shit. What if we romanticized our life and pretend we’re in a rom-com? It could be so fun!”

“Okay,” Ella indulged. “If we do this, what’s gonna happen?” 

Sasha’s face lit up, glad her friends were indulging in her delusions. “Okay, so, we’d be The New Romantics, a group of fun-loving twenty-something teenagers who go out to party, on the road to ruin. We play dumb, but we know exactly what we’re doing.” Her friends chuckled. Sasha had clearly thought about this before. 

“Sounds good to me,” y/n mumbled with a shrug, watching as Sasha’s smile widened even more, taking over her entire face. 

“Should we have, like, our own personas?” Florence suggested with a mischievous smirk on her face. 

Her friends’ smiles mirrored hers, all four of them almost excitedly about the idea. On their way to the bar, the girls started thinking up their New Romantics personas. Flo started, seeing that she was the one who came up with the idea. 

“My name is… Paige Gallagher,” she started. “I’m twenty-nine and a kindergarten–no, primary school teacher. And I enjoy talking to men the way I talk to my students.” The girls all burst out laughing at Florence’s idea. 

“Okay, okay,” y/n then giggled. “My turn. I’m Astrid Wright. I’m twenty-eight and I’m a… coffee shop owner. I like to pick up men when they pick up their coffees.” 

And just like that, Paige Gallagher, Astrid Wright, Nadia Hernandez and Taylor Bates were born from the imaginative minds of four best friends who had dubbed themselves the New Romantics that night. It was a lot fun, at first, with each of them flirting with the men at the bar, getting free drinks from each of them. It was all fun and games until y/n found herself all alone with all three of her friends chatting up the people in the bar. 

Suddenly, her heart plummeted at the feeling of being completely left alone. The memories of her and Charlie flooded back in her mind, shattering every last piece of her heart she had so carefully glued together again. Feeling the tears prick her eyes and the ground behind her sink away, she stumbled outside the bar where she crashed onto the floor, sobbing. 

“Woah, hey,” she heard an unfamiliar voice. “Hey, are you okay?” 

She looked up through her tear-filled eyes. Her sight was blurry, but she could make out the outlines of his curls and sharp jawline. “They left me alone,” she cried. “They left me alone but I can’t be alone right now.” 

“Hey, hey, sssh,” he shushed her, hoping it would soothe her violents sobs before offering his lime soda. “Here, drink this,” he said. “We need to get you a little sobered up.” For a moment, he watched her as she gulped the drink, which stopped her crying. “I’m Spencer…” 

“I’m Astrid–” she stopped herself, then shook her head. “No, that’s not right. I’m y/n.” 

Even in her drunk state, she wasn’t going to lie to this guy who was helping her out. She’d been doing that to everyone in the bar, but she didn’t want to do it to him. He seemed genuinely nice. 

“Okay, y/n,” Spencer said and grabbed her upper arms cautiously. “Can you stand? We gotta get you inside. It’s way too cold out here.” The girl nodded her head and let him help her up to her feet. She stumbled ever so slightly in doing so, but Spencer quickly regained his grip and kept her steady.

She didn’t even know where they were going. All she could focus on was his face. From where she was staring up at him from underneath his arm, she had the perfect view of his sharp jawline and adorable nose. A hiccup escaped from her throat as he gently put her down in one of the booths in the back of the bar. 

“Stay here,” he ordered. “I’m gonna get you some water.” Nodding her head, y/n let herself fall back on the bench, much to Spencer’s dismay. Within a second, he was back by her side and helped her up again. “No. No, no. Sit back up, please,” he ordered and forced her to turn so she was sitting with her back against the back of the couch. 

“But I’m so tired,” she whined, but Spencer was already gone. 

It didn’t take Spencer too long to get the girl sober again. A good five glasses of water and some sobering questions did just the trick, something he had learned from taking care of his many drunk friends. But the more sober she became, the more embarrassed she became. 

“I’m so sorry,” she cried out, fresh tears running down her cheeks. 

Spencer reached over and clutched her hand in his. “Hey, no, you don’t have to apologize.” 

“Yes, I do,” she whimpered, her bottom lip quivering. “Because I’m a drunk, blubbering mess and you’re so nice and so pretty and I just– I’m not normally like this.” She hiccuped before taking another sip, missing a light pink dusting Spencer’s cheeks. 

He himself took a sip from his water, debating whether or not to say the next words brewing in his genius brain. “Okay,” he said, more to himself than to her. “Okay, then show me who you normally are. We’re gonna sit here, you’re gonna drink your water and we’re gonna talk until you’re sober enough to go home.” 

And so they did. For hours, the two sat in the booth, chatting about seemingly random stuff while drinking one water after the other. Spencer managed to keep the girl awake to the point where she really had to go to the bathroom, having drunk too much water. 

The bar was pretty much empty at this point. Even her friends had ditched her for the people they’d picked up that night with their ‘personas’. So much for the New Romantics, y/n thought. But she was grateful for Spencer that he wanted to take the time to sober her up and get to know her. 

And it had worked, too. The room wasn’t spinning when she sat on the toilet and she didn’t feel like puking anymore. All good signs that told her she was, in fact, sobering up. 

“I can’t believe my friends just ditched me,” she muttered as she slid back into the booth, rejoining Spencer. “We’d actually pretended to be other people all night long.” 

“Why’s that?” Spencer chuckled. 

“Well,” y/n scoffed and rolled her eyes at how ridiculous it all sounded now. “I’ve just come out of a pretty brutal breakup and they’ve been trying to cheer me up. When we came out tonight, we’d decided to use different personas to try and create some sort of mystique, I guess?” She took another gulp of water. “I don’t know, it sounds stupid.” 

“Did it help you get over your ex?” Spencer then asked, to which y/n nodded. “Then it’s not stupid.” 

As y/n looked into Spencer’s eyes, she noticed the golden specks in his irises and she realized she could see her whole world in them. With just one simple look, one simple smile, he had turned her life upside down. Charlie, who? She had forgotten all about them. That night had felt like a dream. 

“I’m not sure it was that, what made me forget my ex…” 

Everything taglist: @calamitykaty @littlemissaddict @n0wornever @wanniiieeee @unnowhatthisistbh

Criminal Minds Taglist: @boimlers-gonna-boim @samsbirks @tinaasthings @dysphoricsanity @love4lando @elenamoncada-ibarra @r-3dlips @magstheslayer @astess 

[seraphdreams]

“HIGH, HARU.”

sanzu haruchiyo / fem!reader.

contains. very dark content. yandere!sanzu, manipulation, drugs, obsessive behavior, slight aggression, distorted perceptions of love, guns. 18+ mdni.

author’s note. this had been something i’ve been thinking about for about a year so i decided to write it out a little.

synopsis. how far does your love go for sanzu? how far does his go?

word count. 1.3k

the way others would describe your relationship with sanzu is totally different from how you would. to you, he was a loving man; albeit, eccentric at times but held such a deep love for you that if you were to cut into his skin, it’d bleed you. if you weren’t so madly infatuated, you’d understand that he’s quite an obsessive lover, a toxic fit to the passion and emotion you’d display with him.

the truth is, haruchiyo never learned to love until he met you. his love was overwhelming yet it comforted your broken soul. his past seemed to justify about every single one of his actions. and you loved him. no matter what, you will always love him.

it started from the span of a few days ago. sanzu would come home, eyes low with fatigue written all over his features. “haru, you look so tired.. you okay?” he’d brush you off, mumbling about how he’s always this way, yet his face felt cold in your hands. in fact, his whole body was alarmingly cold. it was as if you slept with a living corpse and woke up to one as well—he wasn’t doing good.

for a while you’d been speculating about the culprit, those mysterious pills he took day in and day out. tins and bottles of them were scattered around your penthouse with no sign of ever going. you cared about haruchiyo more than you cared for yourself; bringing up your thoughts with him couldn’t hurt.

“don’t you think it’s time to quit?” you query as you stand in the hallway, your lover a few feet from the front door. he scoffs as he takes off his shoes one by one, while ridding himself of his usual bloodstained suit jacket and tie. “quit what?” he fully straightens himself out to look at you, the same tired glance in his eyes. “those pills. they aren’t doing you any good..” you start off before your voice unexpectedly gets quieter. “i don’t want you gone from them.”

he chuckles, softly, while making his way to you. there’s a grin on his face, one that mocks you, makes you feel feeble. he ruffles your hair as he walks past you and to the bedroom. “don’t worry about me, ‘m fine.”

you let out a deep sigh, starting up again. “but you’re n—” he swings back around, his eyes narrowed as if he had gotten ticked off just that quick. “didn’t i just say i was fine? get to bed.”

for the most part, haru slept like a baby with you tightly grasped in his arms. he wasn’t the type to sleep lightly, he could sleep through a break-in if you let him. yet, you were wide awake, unable to chase any form of slumber. your thoughts raced through your mind at a thousand miles per hour. your heartbeat too fast almost as if you’d run yourself a heart attack. it was a struggle but you managed to free yourself from sanzu’s arms, getting up and heading to all the various spots where you knew he kept his pills.

one bottle at a time, you poured them into the toilet until there were no more in the last tin. turning your head, you pulled down on the handle and flushed, doing away with the empty bottles and settling back into bed.

once morning came, you arose to your lover not accompanying you in bed. you figured he’d be heading out for work by now so you joined him in the kitchen.

“baby, the craziest thing happened.”

your heart pounded at his statement. “hm?” you tried to occupy yourself with the coffee pot to stave off any nerves but any fool could tell that you weren’t getting too far.

“i could’ve swore you left me in bed last night.”

“i went to use the bathroom.” you respond bluntly.

“and now it seems like my medicine tin went missing.”

you shot your eyes up from the pot to look at sanzu. he wasn’t an idiot, far from it. “went missing? did you look everywhere?”

he stares blankly for a second before closing in on you. “you think i’m fucking stupid, huh?” you walked backwards until you felt the counter against your lower back. “you don’t take pills, so would you like to tell me where my shit went?”

your throat felt scratchy and dry as you attempted to rasp out the words. “i-i flushed them..” before he could inch out another word, you continue. “i care about you, haru! i don’t want you dying on me.”

“like fucking hell you care about me.” his voice isn’t a yell, but it isn’t nearly as close to being his normal tone. “i’m fucking crazy, you know that. i need those pills, they help me.”

each one of his words felt like a knife to the heart. you couldn’t believe that the man who’d go through hell and back for you would also treat you as if you were nothing.

“they don’t help, haru. they’re making you worse.”

he steps away, slowly. returning to his original position, he takes one of the bottles in hand, turning to show you the label. “my fucking name is written on this shit, it’s prescribed. the fuck you mean they’re making me worse?”

“it’s not even prescribed by a real doctor, you get it from a dealer!” you didn’t mean for your words to project like they did and it came as a shock to sanzu. he’s still for a moment in disbelief before grabbing his coat and walking out the door. “i’ll deal with you when i get home.”

you spent majority of that afternoon cleaning up to calm your nerves in any sort of way, yet the tears never stopped. it was creeping close to the time when he’d usually come home and you found solace in hiding from him in your spacious apartment.

the front door clicks, then opens.

“mighty clean around here.” he comments, looking around the space. it’s silent and you hoped he couldn’t hear the pounding of your heart through your chest. footsteps crept here and there as if he was searching for you. he knew where you were, he was just giving you some time to play into delusion.

“you bitch!”

his grip on your wrist is taut as he pulls you from your hiding space, aggressively laying you out on the couch. he’s hovering over you, gun in one hand as the other finally lets go of your arm.

“haru, i love you! i love you so much, haru! i love you, i love you!” you chant mindlessly as if it’d snap him out of whatever trance he was in. his eyes were unreadable, you couldn’t tell what emotion he was feeling or what move he’d make next. he used his gun to caress your face, finding joy in the way you continued to babble. “you love me?”

quickly, you nod your head. “i love you so much! if you killed me right now, i’d still love you!”

pleased with your answer and the uncontrollable tears streaming from your eyes, he lets up. with his gun tossed to the side and his position switched from hovering to standing over you, he pulls you up in his arms.

unpredictable he is.

“let’s talk this out, okay?”

you nod your head, holding onto his wrist as he leads you from the living room to the bedroom. he sits at the edge, pulling you on top of his lap. “you say you love me so.. i’m gonna do whatever i want even if it kills me, and you’re not gonna say a word, right?”

you nod your head against his chest.

“‘s like you been cryin’ all day. you must be thirsty.” he holds you in his arms as he takes you to the kitchen. “let’s get you some water, good girl.”

“my good girl, i do this ‘cause i love you.”

tags - @shujismoke @creepngs @koucaine @mikeyswaifuuu @meena-in-a-nutshell @getougeko @imkumichan @messofavs @saaraunicorn @cloudnitee @ipetnero @aasouthteranoswife @saffronity @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @stffychn @aki-and-saltfish @withlovetengen @zuuki @keooooothings @tojitsukaisen @bunnyyamor @sauzysushi @luvhaitani @bluerskiees @kasaslovr

[ajwild220]

How to see a Villain (Hero x Villain)

"Oh, so let me guess," the hero spat, tensing against the rough cords that bound them to their chair. "your girl left you and it blackened your heart so much you can't be blamed for turning phycotic?"

Villain's eyes swept over hero's tense form, their posture calm, as if it was every day he faced someone tied to a chair in a dark room. Which, in all honesty, was a reasonable possibility. The faintest hint of a smile edged onto his lips. "I suppose you could call it her fault."

Hero scoffed.

"But really," Villian continued measuredly, scrapping a chair up opposite his victim, "I thank her for it."

Hero lurched in the restraints, only earning a growing smile from Villian. Anger edged Hero's voice as they sent words that sought to bite. "I see why she left you. Who could love a monster like you?"

Villian cocked an eyebrow in dangerous amusement.

"You assume she left me."

"Who wouldn't leave you?"

"Her."

He paused, voice deep, slowly sounding out the words as if Hero was too dumb to understand.

"You forget, little Hero. I'm irresistible."

The grin that followed was sickening, laced with secrets and ill intent. If Hero weren't so worked up, they might have recoiled at the mere quirk of Villians lips.

Silence reigned as Villian pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pristine suit jacket. Lighting one, he took a deep breath blowing smoke out through his nostrils, eyes unmoving like a predator finding the weakness in his prey. "We have time Hero. Would you like to hear a story?"

"No."

"Unfortunate for you then." He stood purposefully, flicking the burnt match into the corner in a small wisp of smoke. "She was beautiful; her laugh could fill the room--"

"She was a fool!"

Villian didn't move. No trace of anger, nothing to acknowledge he had heard hero save the pause in his story.

"Yes, a great a fool as she was beautiful." He sucked in another breath of smoke. "Do not interrupt me again." Hero did not need to look into Villians eyes to know the threat that lay behind his words.

"She watched me turn. Way before Superhero sensed anything amiss. She knew my villainous nature." His eyes clouded in memory. "She grew to love my darkness."

Villian licked his bottom lip in thought and chuckled. "I came home every single day, and every single day she would wait to throw herself into my arms." His eyes met Hero, and a chill went down Hero's spine. "I hated that as much as I loved her. It gnawed at me, for it showed me that my darkness was but a shadow, a greyness she could grow accustomed to. As long as she loved me, I was a villain and not a monster. Her love showed me I was weak!" he growled menacingly, glaring at Hero.

Hero froze in place. They had never quite understood why Villian was so feared. They had heard rumors, sure, but it was an entirely different thing to see played out before their very eyes. The madness that danced so freely and cared for behind the clear blue expanse of Villian's irises. Hero has no more time for contemplation as Villian continued, eyes blazing with an animalistic wrath.

"I could not rest with her coming back to me. Not until I saw pure fear and disgust. Not until I stopped being the hero in her eyes!!" His voice had risen to a yell as he slammed his fist upon the small table, sending a small glass ashtray to shatter into thousands of pieces on the unforgiving concrete floor.

His breathing began to grow labored as he threw his cigarette into the shards.

"You know how to make a monster, Hero?" He paused, madness playing in his eyes as he stalked forwards, polished shoes crunching on the broken glass. Hero suddenly wished this whole confrontation was a bad dream as Villain closed the small gap between them. Villian's breath reeked of smoke as their face hovered inches from Heros before he barely whispered. "You show a villain what's left of their humanity and let their mind consume it in their ravenous hunger for blackness."

Then he stopped. The fire left his eyes as he once again stood, becoming much the villain he was at the start. No trace of the person who had stood there moments before. Hero was vastly unsettled, still recovering from Villians outburst. Villian, however merely retrieved his fallen matchbook from the glass shards strewn about the floor and lit a new cigarette.

"So yes, I do thank her. She made me the monster."

Hero didn't know what to say, their mouth had gone dry, and any words seemed to catch in their throat. One question grew stronger with a morbid curiosity.

Villian answered without being asked.

"Yes, she's gone."

Hero swallowed.

"So, she finally left?" "It is no business of yours why she is gone."

He once again placed himself in the chair opposite Hero, calmly blowing smoke. "I do regret that she is gone though." And for the first time that night, Hero saw something that looked like a human emotion pass over Villian's features.

"You see Hero, I realized after she left, some people can love a monster."

[butchyeons]

up in space

check it out on ao3!

najeonghyo poly domestic au (ft. ryeji). this fic focuses on jihyo, who’s a traveling nurse, coping with a patient she was really fond of’s passing. also she’s trans and futch bc i said so. jeongyeon and nayeon her emotional support butch and femme respectively. they are very in love!!

trigger warning for discussions of cancer and death. i also use the d slur once but not in a bad way?? if any of that bothers you feel free to skip this one! this fic is a heavy read, so pls be warned!

other tags: hurt/comfort, angst, implied sexual content/jokes, grieving, fluff, domestic stuff idk, discussions of being trans/taking estrogen shots

tysm for all the support on my fics so far! it rlly means a lot. hope you all enjoy- and let me know what you think! this au is rlly special to me and i’ll probably write more in the future bc i love them.

———

Losing a patient was never easy. But this time, it was so much different.

Jihyo did her best to focus on the road- on the long expansion of highway ahead of her. Each time she thought about it, more tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, just like how they had been for the past three days of her shift.

Jihyo wanted to blame it on the estrogen, like she always did. But after being on it for five years, there was only so much blame she could place on her shots. In the back of her mind she could hear Jeongyeon chuckling at her, could see Nayeon giving her that look of sympathy.

“Yah, Jihyo. After a while it becomes less of the hormones and more part of being a woman.” Jeongyeon had said over dinner one night, after Jihyo had spent her whole afternoon crying her eyes out about work. Again.

Jihyo thought that she really understood it now.

Yeji was a sweet girl. She had been in and out of the hospital for years, fighting leukemia. She was diagnosed at a young age, grew up with it. Jihyo met her when she was freshly 13. On the day of her 13th birthday, actually. Jihyo watched as her family- her mom, dad, older sister, and her best friend- brought her a cake and sang her happy birthday. She had one of the brightest smiles Jihyo had ever seen.

Jihyo traveled from hospital to hospital- it was her job to go where she was needed, to specialize in a little bit of everything when it came to pediatrics. But in all her time as a nurse, the hundreds of thousands of patients she saw, she had never found herself as attached to one as she did Hwang Yeji.

She always reminded Jihyo so much of herself. Of that scared little girl that had always lived deep inside her, even before her transition. How that scared little girl never gave up, no matter how bad it got.

When she noticed how that best friend of hers- Ryujin, that was the girl’s name- would stare at her like she put the sun in the sky, she knew. And when she noticed how tightly Yeji would hold Ryujin’s hand as she got the needle in her port changed, how Yeji practically clung to Ryujin during her nausea episodes, she knew.

It reminded her a lot of something she lived through.

The sight of Nayeon in her own hospital bed, her leg shattered, half sobbing as she got the news that she would never be able to walk without pain again- how she wouldn’t be able to return to teaching, effectively getting her passion stolen away in a single afternoon. Jeongyeon held her hand, her expression stern, her eyes never once leaving her wife’s face as the doctor explained the next steps- the surgeries, the physical therapy. Jihyo stood there too, on the other side of Nayeon’s bed, exhausted from having to speed halfway across the country at Jeongyeon’s call. She felt like her heart had broken into a million pieces, scattered in every direction by a wind so strong that she’d never be able to find them all again.

Jihyo had only been with them for a year, then. But when she looked at them, she saw an entire universe. She already knew both of them better than she knew herself. She already knew her specialties, the place she held in both of their lives- fitting in exactly where she needed to, when she needed to. She also already knew then that she would spend the rest of her days with them, if she could.

So when Yeji mentioned her girlfriend to Jihyo one day while she was fixing her IV, Jihyo smiled. She listened, like she always did. She told her she was happy for her, talked about her partners, too. How they were the same. How they had each other, no matter what. Yeji smiled back.

“I hope I can have that one day, too, Ms. Park.”

It was just shy of Yeji’s 16th birthday when Jihyo came back to find her bed empty. It had been a month and a half since Jihyo had been assigned to that hospital. The last time Jihyo spoke with her, they talked about school- how Ryujin had taken their soccer team to the national championships after one last tie-breaker goal in overtime. Yeji was sad she couldn’t be there. She wanted nothing more than to be with Ryujin, was what she told Jihyo.

When she was talking, she was falling asleep. She had been doing that more lately. Jihyo did her best to keep her awake as she changed the needle in her port, told her how good she was doing. Jihyo couldn’t help but notice that she looked so pale, how her vibrant smile had dimmed just slightly. She told Yeji to tell her parents that she said hi, to tell Ryujin congratulations and good luck. She said she couldn’t wait to see her again.

Jihyo gripped the steering wheel impossibly tighter. Her eyes stung, angry thorns of tears working their way up to the surface. She tried to focus on the road- the darkness making everything a bit harder to see. She needed to get glasses. She needed to get home. She needed to get to them.

———

It was nearly 2 am by the time Jihyo pulled into the driveway. The lights were still on in the house- clearly, they were still up. Jihyo mentally scolded them for staying awake for her. But the moment she walked up the steps, only for Jeongyeon to open the door before she could even get her keys out, she forgot all about it.

Jeongyeon didn’t say anything, just held her arms out. Jihyo stepped into them, dropping her backpack on the porch somewhere beside her. Her head found its usual spot- the junction between Jeongyeon’s neck and her shoulder, her nose pressed against the older woman’s pulse point. Jeongyeon just held her, like she always did.

Jeongyeon was all muscle- solid, heavy. She worked outside and it showed. She was rough around the edges, her fingertips worn like the sandpaper she used daily. Jihyo never felt safer than she did in Jeongyeon’s arms.

“Nayeon told me everything- baby, I’m so sorry.” Jeongyeon whispered, her lips brushing against the top of Jihyo’s head.

Jihyo couldn’t miss the way her voice cracked. That’s when she couldn’t hold her tears back anymore.

Jihyo didn’t say anything- she couldn’t, didn’t need to. She just cried. She cried the big, ugly tears she held back for the past three days. She pressed herself into Jeongyeon’s shoulder, her face contorted in pain as she let it all out. Jeongyeon just held her, swaying them both as they stood on the porch, underneath the singular dim light that Jihyo had been meaning to change.

Jihyo had been through so much. Her transition was rough- what she expected to be a casual step into womanhood felt more like a downward freefall with no parachute. She lost everything- her home, her family, her entire support system. But it all seemed so trivial compared to this. At the end of the day, she was breathing. No matter how far she fell, she had someone who could catch her. Two amazing people, actually. And they caught her every single time she fell- over and over again.

The other nurses told her Ryujin was there when she passed. They said they had to practically rip her body out of Ryujin’s arms. They had never seen someone so young but so full of love. Yeji had someone who caught her, too. Even if there was nothing left to catch.

Jihyo asked whatever God was listening to make sure that those two girls met again in the next life, and in every life afterwards. It was the least they deserved. The thought of those two never meeting again in this one made her sob even harder.

“I know, baby.” Jeongyeon whispered, her hand holding the back of Jihyo’s head to her chest, her other arm still wrapped securely around her waist. “I know.”

———

When Jihyo finally calmed down, Jeongyeon helped her inside. She left her in the living room, taking her backpack up to their room. Jihyo could only really stand there, swaying slightly as she stared at the ground- unstable without Jeongyeon to hold her up.

Nayeon, who had been sleeping on the couch snoring peacefully with her jaw half slack, finally stirred. Her eyes slowly opened, a smile forming on her lips as soon as she registered the figure in front of her to be Jihyo. She tried to sit up.

“Jih- ah!” She yelped as she shifted, her leg caught at an awkward angle from how she’d been laying.

At the sound, Jihyo came back down to earth. She quickly rushed to her side, helping her adjust. One of her arms supported Nayeon’s lower back, the other going under the backs of her knees. She helped lift Nayeon up to that she was sitting up straight, her legs out in front of her. She counted to three out loud, waiting for Nayeon to give her a nod, before shifting her again so that her back rested against the back of the couch, her feet on the floor in front of her.

“You really shouldn’t sleep like that, Nay…” Jihyo muttered, no real bite to her words, as she kissed Nayeon’s forehead.

“I know, I just wanted to see you.” Nayeon replied as Jihyo sat down beside her.

“I’ve told you not to stay up late for me.”

“Don’t care.”

“Nayeon-“

Jihyo was cut off as Nayeon pulled her in for a kiss. Their lips met softly, Nayeon’s hand cupping her cheek, helping angle Jihyo’s mouth better to meet hers.

If Jeongyeon was rock, Nayeon was fire. Jihyo always melted right into her. No amount of walls Jihyo had built up could ever resist the pure heat that radiated off of Nayeon. At first it was scary- she had never met someone who made her feel so vulnerable, open. But now the heat was welcomed- needed. It kept Jihyo alive. She wouldn’t want it any other way.

“There’s dinner in the fridge if you’re hungry.” Nayeon whispered as she pulled away, her hand still caressing Jihyo’s cheek. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. I ate on the way home earlier.” Jihyo whispered, her eyes closed. “I’ll have some for lunch tomorrow.”

The couch shifted behind Jihyo. She felt a familiar arm wrapping around her waist, steadying her.

“You better.” Jeongyeon whispered, her nose finding Jihyo’s neck. “She made it just for you- the pickiest eater I’ve ever met.”

Jihyo chuckled.

“You both signed up for my picky eating the night you picked me up at the bar.”

Jeongyeon huffed, pulling Jihyo’s back against her front. She pressed a kiss to Jihyo’s neck.

“And you’ve been a pain in the ass ever since. I love you so much.”

“I love you more.” Nayeon added, leaning in to kiss Jihyo again. “So much more.”

If Jeongyeon was the moon and Nayeon was the sun, Jihyo was the constellation that lay between the two of them. She needed them as much as they needed her.

“No fighting.”Jihyo whispered between kisses. “I’m too tired to deal with it.”

Nayeon chuckled as she pulled away, her thumb stroking Jihyo’s cheek.

“You started it.”

“Did not.” Jihyo said, smirking.

Before Nayeon could go back in for another kiss, Jeongyeon groaned. She pulled her face away from Jihyo’s neck, both of her arms still wrapped around the younger woman’s waist.

“Can we go to bed?” She asked.

Jihyo tilted her head back, resting fully against Jeongyeon’s front.

“You don’t even have work tomorrow.”

“I wanted to get some work done around the house.” Jeongyeon grunted.

Jihyo hummed.

“Can it wait a day?”

Jeongyeon huffed through her nose, pressing a kiss to the side of Jihyo’s head.

“Do you need a day?”

Whenever Jihyo had an exceptionally bad shift, she always needed a period of decompression. And usually that decompression consisted of laying around with her girls, watching mindless dramas or reality tv, and lots of kisses. And sex, too. But mainly the first three.

“I need a day.” Jihyo replied.

“You can take as much time as you need, Ji.” Nayeon said as she scooted herself closer. “I know how much you cared about her.”

Jihyo sighed, but smiled sadly. Her thoughts were racing still. It felt like an open wound directly on the center of her heart- everything kept bothering it. There was so much she wished she could’ve said or done. She didn’t even get to say goodbye.

“I love you both.” Was all Jihyo could say before the tears came back again.

———

None of them spoke anymore that night. They didn’t really need to. Jeongyeon helped Nayeon get up from the couch, her arm secured around her wife’s waist as she led her back to their bedroom. Jihyo followed behind them, sneaking off into to master bathroom after giving them both one last kiss.

She needed a shower- needed to wash the hospital smell out of her hair, to get the days of built up sweat off of her skin. She did her best to not think about it anymore- tried to focus on the things she could be doing instead, on what she had right in front of her. Her therapist told her she tended to dwell on the “what ifs”, which always blinded her from the “right nows”. And right then, she was home, safe. Surrounded by love.

She was so damn lucky to have them- to be loved by them. They saved her life, and she saved theirs. That’s how they worked. That’s how they would always work.

After she finished blowdrying her hair, too exhausted to do her sacred skincare routine, she slinked out of the bathroom. Nayeon was already asleep again- snoring loudly. Next to her, Jeongyeon was still looking at her phone. As soon as Jihyo got into her pajamas, she leaned over and turned the bedside lamp off. Jihyo crawled in between the two of them, doing her best to not jostle Nayeon, who just shifted slightly, her arm instinctively throwing itself over Jihyo’s waist in her sleep.

Jeongyeon adjusted herself so that Jihyo was resting her head on her chest, like always. Jeongyeon was warm- she got so warm when the three of them slept together that eventually she just opted to sleep in boxers and nothing else- but Jihyo needed it. Her body shivered a bit, still adjusting to the temperature shift from the bathroom. Somehow, Nayeon wiggled even closer to her, her arm getting even tighter as she was still snoring.

No matter what happened, Jeongyeon and Nayeon always kept Jihyo tied down, grounded. No matter how high up she floated, they always managed to pull her back in. They had a gravitational pull all of their own- the sun, moon, and stars all in one bed together.

“Love you.” Jihyo muttered, her eyes finally closing easily for the first time in days.

“Love you too. Always will.” Jeongyeon answered.

It didn’t take long at all for both of them to fall asleep.

———

The next time Jihyo worked at that hospital, the head nurse, Dahyun, stopped her.

“Hey, Jihyo. Someone came by and left this letter for you a few days ago.” She said, handing an envelope to her.

Jihyo raised her eyebrows, examining it. It was a yellow envelope, her name written on the front. It was held closed with a sticker of the smiling cat emoji. She thanked Dahyun as she folded it in half and placed it in one of the pockets of her scrubs, heading off to help another patient.

When she got to her lunch break, she finally got to check it. She sat in her car, her lunchbox out on the seat beside her. Inside, Nayeon had made sure to pack all of her favorites to last her for the few days she was gone, along with her usual handwritten note wishing her good luck (which was Jihyo’s favorite part of lunchtime). She picked out one of the sandwiches and a bag of chips before closing the bag back up.

She reached inside her pocket and pulled the envelope out. Jihyo carefully opened it, doing her best to not rip the cat sticker, taking out the letter that was inside. It was written on notebook paper in blue ink- the page covered in other tiny, scribbled drawings of cats. The handwriting was a bit messy, but still somehow neat- extremely unique. When she noticed the name at the top, Jihyo smiled.

Ms. Park,

This is Shin Ryujin. I’m not sure if you’ll remember me, but you took care of my girlfriend, Hwang Yeji, up until she passed. I wanted to write you this letter as a way of saying thank you. You helped her through some really hard times, without even knowing. Her parents weren’t really happy about us being together. Of course, they wouldn’t leave her, but they scolded me and her a lot. It sucked to have that on top of everything else.

But what didn’t suck was when you were there. You were a really good shoulder for her to lean on. She was always so happy telling me about you and your partners (wives? I hope you guys get married or something). You helped her accept a lot of herself. That helped me accept a lot of myself, too.

She wanted to be a nurse, just like you. She wanted to open her own hospital, eventually. All she ever thought about was helping others, no matter how sick she got. She even still tried to give blood when we did blood drives at school for her. She was the sweetest girl I had ever met. I think I’ll love her until the day I die. I hope you feel that way about your girls, too.

Even though there was nothing that could be done to prevent what happened, you really saved her life. You saved mine, too. Please, keep doing what you do. You really were a lifeline for two clueless lesbians, haha. Hopefully you’ll help more in the future. In fact, I know you will.

Thank you for everything. I can only hope to meet you again in the future. I’ll never forget you. I hope you never forget us.

- Shin Ryujin

P.S. We won the championship! Thank you for the well wishes. Yeji passed a few days after. I told her I’d win for her- and I did.

I think I’ll keep doing everything for her.

Attached to the letter was a picture of them. It was a selfie- Ryujin holding the phone up while Yeji smiled that same brilliant smile that Jihyo always knew. She was bundled up in a jacket, sweater, and a beanie, while Ryujin only had on a sweatshirt. They were at the beach- the ocean waves crashing onto the shore behind them. The bottom of the photo had a date written- February. Yeji had passed in late April.

It was a lot for Jihyo to read, to take in. She felt a pit form in her stomach- a black hole that would open up and swallow her. She set the letter and photo down, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She looked out at the side of the hospital building- trying to count the bricks on the side of the wall, trying to give herself something to keep her grounded.

It really wasn’t enough. She needed something stronger, needed her gravitational pull- she needed her universe.

Jihyo immediately pulled her phone out and called Jeongyeon. Really, her number was off limits except for emergencies. But she figured she would let this one slide. She quickly found Jeongyeon’s contact and pressed the call button.

The line rang a few times before someone picked up. Jihyo was met with the clear sounds of a jackhammer whirring in the background, along with men yelling at one another. And then there was Jeongyeon’s laugh.

“Mind your business- Seriously, Changbin. Get back to work- I’m your boss. I can do what I want. Shut up.” Jeongyeon yelled- clearly, one of her guys was up her ass about her taking a phone call.

After a few more moments of bickering over the sounds of heavy machinery, Jihyo listened as a door slammed- all the noises cutting out in an instant. She smiled when Jeongyeon huffed.

“This better be good, Park Jihyo.” She said, annoyed. But that act faded immediately, like it always did. “Are you okay?”

“Yah, Jeongyeon. I’m pregnant. It’s yours.” Jihyo said, grinning as she took a bite of her sandwich.

“I’m finally gonna be a dad?” Jeongyeon asked in that stupid, playful voice of hers, feigning excitement.

“Seems like it. Was daddy just not good enough for you?”

“Oh that’s never enough, baby. Need to actually get you-“

“Oh my god, Jeongyeon- shut up.” Jihyo said, cutting off the older woman, nearly choking on her food. “You’re so- god you can’t even- you’re disgusting!”

Jihyo sputtered over her words as she coughed. Jeongyeon just laughed. Typical.

“God- are you busy?” Jihyo asked once she was able to breathe.

“I’m at work, Hyo. Yes.”

“Well do you have a second?”

“For you.” Jeongyeon sighed. Jihyo could hear her smile through the phone. “What’s wrong? You never call at this time. Did something happen?”

“Well, no. But yes.” Jihyo answered, setting her food down to tap at her phone. “Wait. Let me add Nayeon- I need you both here for this.”

Jeongyeon hummed. Jihyo started the three-way call, the line ringing a few times before Nayeon picked up.

“Hi baby!” She said cheerfully. “Oh wait, you’re both here- did something happen? You never call at work.”

Despite their obvious differences, Jihyo thought it was almost comical how similar Jeongyeon and Nayeon were. Jihyo sighed, smiling down at the call screen.

“I got a letter today. I wanted you both to hear it.”

So, Jihyo read it out to them. By the end of the second read, she was fighting back her tears again. When she told them about the picture, it was nearly impossible to speak without her voice cracking.

It was the estrogen- had to be that. She just took her shot yesterday. That’s what she told herself. That’s why everything felt so heavy, why her voice fluttered between octaves, a bird angrily trying to claw its way out of a cage. The typical symptoms of second puberty- of womanhood.

Jeongyeon and Nayeon were both silent. A few moments passed before there was a sniffle on Jeongyeon’s end.

“Hyo, oh my god.”

Jihyo couldn’t hold back then. She grit her teeth, leaning back into her seat, her body trembling as she gripped her phone- trying to hold back the sobs. She gasped for air without meaning to. She wished she was home, wished she was between her sun and moon.

“You saved her life, Jihyo.” Nayeon whispered.

In Jihyo’s mind, all she saw was the night they met. She had never even been to a gay bar before- but she was down on her luck, needed to have a good time. She still felt like she was pretending, felt like she was dressing up as the idea of a woman. She needed to be around people like her. She had been taking her shots for a month then- living in her car as she traveled from hospital to hospital, praying her patients and coworkers would just be decent. Decency was found few and far between back then.

She was just about to call it a night when a couple came up to her. They asked for her name, asked if she lived in town- said they’d remember seeing a pretty face like hers. When she explained she was just in for a few days before she took off on call again, they asked if she’d like to go home with them- to stay for the night, to have some fun. And how could Jihyo deny the most gorgeous butch and femme she had ever seen of anything, especially after they bought her a drink and showered her in compliments. And then the one night stay turned into a permanent residence, into stability. Decency turned into real, genuine love.

A whole ocean of people were in that bar that night, but somehow the tides pulled them towards each other. She wasn’t even trying to be seen- wanted to let the waves just take her where they felt. But every day she thanks whatever divine being blessed her with the lifeboat that was Yoo Jeongyeon and Im Nayeon, how they pulled her on board and allowed her a spot in their crew. She had her life saved. And more importantly, she got to keep doing the same for others because of it.

“E-Even if she didn’t make it, you saved her.” Nayeon said, clearly choked up on her own tears. “Both of them.”

Jihyo nodded. She had finally calmed down. She stared at the half eaten sandwich, sitting haphazardly in her lap.

“I saw so much of myself in her.” She muttered. “I saw so much of us in both of them. She deserved so much more than she got. Both of them did.”

There was a moment of silence again. The black hole in the pit of Jihyo’s stomach was gone.

“You’re really amazing, Jihyo.” Jeongyeon said, her voice distant. “I don’t even have the words.”

Jihyo let out a huff, smiling. She could feel the floorboard of her car underneath her feet, registered the texture of her shirt as she brushed some breadcrumbs away. Back down on earth.

“You two are biased.”

Both of them made noises of protest, which crackled over the speakers of her phone.

“So what if I am?” Nayeon asked. “You’re one of the most selfless people on this planet. I’m lucky to have you- Jeongyeon and I both are.”

“I will say it until my last breath and mean it every single time-” Jeongyeon cut in. “You are amazing, Park Jihyo. God. You are a life saver- literally.”

Jihyo leaned back in her seat, finally taking another bite of her sandwich. There was no point in arguing with them- that’s how it always was. But their words helped her feel real again. She felt like a human being by their sides.

“Fine. Whatever you say.”

“We wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true, and you know that.” Nayeon said softly.

Jihyo smiled, her face still wet from her tears. Her speakers vibrated when Jeongyeon chuckled, sniffling again.

“God- you call me at work and make me cry. The guys will never let me live this one down.”

Jihyo rolled her eyes, wiping up the last remnants of her emotions with the sleeve of her undershirt.

“So what? They’ll never understand what it’s like to be a woman. Not like we do, anyways.”

Nayeon hummed in agreement, her sweet, bunny-toothed smile clear as day over the phone. Jihyo wished she could see it. Jeongyeon laughed- that bubbly, staggered laugh that Jihyo absolutely adored.

“You’re damn right they won’t.” Jeongyeon said firmly.

———

From that day forward, Jihyo kept the letter and picture in her glovebox. She got over it the best she could- she had to. She knew better than to dwell on it for too long, to spend too much time thinking about the “what ifs”.

But when she was having an exceptionally rough shift, she looked at them. When she was mentally beating herself to a pulp, telling herself how she needed to be better, she thought about them. When she broke herself down to her barest, most raw essentials, examining every part of herself thoroughly before putting it all back together, she reminded herself that there was a point. She had to keep going. If not for herself, for other people. She had people to help, lives to save.

If Ryujin could keep going, she could, too. She had someone to fight for- and so did Jihyo. She had two people.

She was back home, snuggled inbetween Jeongyeon and Nayeon in their bed that was so clearly not made to fit all three of them. Her back was pressed as close as it ever could be to Jeongyeon’s front as Nayeon kissed her, their noses bumping into one another from the weird angle. It made Jihyo giggle, made Nayeon smile even harder. Jeongyeon pressed a kiss to the back of Jihyo’s head.

“Would you two love birds cut it out so I can sleep?” She mumbled, her voice muffled by Jihyo’s hair.

“You’re off tomorrow.” Nayeon said bluntly between more kisses.

Jeongyeon groaned. “I have to get the light on the porch fixed.”

Jihyo eyed Nayeon, who gave her one last kiss, before shifting so that she faced Jeongyeon. Nayeon’s arms replaced Jeongyeon’s easily, finding their usual spot at Jihyo’s waist.

“It’s not that hard to change a lightbulb, baby.” Jihyo whispered as she took Jeongyeon’s face in her hands, her thumbs circling the apples of her cheeks. “I think you’re just getting worn out.”

Jeongyeon rolled her eyes, pursing her lips into that signature annoyed smile she always did.

“It’s because of you two.”

Jihyo smirked, Nayeon made an annoyed sound somewhere behind her. She pulled Jeongyeon in for a kiss- deep, but soft. Their lips moved the same way they always had, always would. When Jihyo felt Jeongyeon’s tongue swipe against her lower lip, she shifted again- sitting up to straddle the older woman’s hips, her hands finding her bare chest- never breaking their kiss. Of course, Jeongyeon was already shirtless, heat radiating off of her tanned skin from how closely the three of them were pressed together. Nayeon moved closer, clinging to her wife, her mouth finding its way to Jeongyeon’s collarbone. When Jeongyeon whimpered, Jihyo finally pulled away.

“You love it though, really.” She said, smirking. Her grip tightened, earning another small sound of need.

The sight of Jeongyeon underneath her, of Nayeon holding onto her as if she’d slip away would never fail to make Jihyo feel like she was in heaven. The way their bodies moved together, how natural it all felt- Jihyo was the luckiest person in the entire world. Her whole universe squeezed onto a king sized mattress; the sun, moon, and stars all contained in three tired, old dykes.

Jihyo rolled her eyes. Nayeon pressed a kiss to Jeongyeon’s cheek. Jeongyeon just smiled.

“I do.”

———

Jihyo stepped down from the ladder, wiping the sweat off her brow that had formed in the brief time it took for her to switch out the old lightbulb on the porch. It was the dead of summer now- the sun baring down its rays angrily, warming everything up to what felt like a boiling point.

Beside her, Nayeon sat in one of the chairs, in sunglasses with her favorite sundress on, three glasses of fresh lemonade on the table next to her. Her legs were propped up on the wicker footrest they bought after her accident. A random piece of white wood furniture among all the black metal. It didn’t match the set, but it worked. Jihyo always thought it was funny that she could relate to a footrest.

“She’s still got it in her, doesn’t she?” Nayeon asked, referring to their third half.

Jihyo turned, watching as Jeongyeon fought to turn their push mower on. She gave the chord a few more good pulls, trying her damnedest to get it started. That thing had been giving her hell for the past few weeks- it was on its last leg, needed to be replaced the moment they got it. But the three of them were stubborn, wanted to get their money’s worth out of the 20 year old hunk of metal that they bought used at a garage sale. All ₩40,000 worth.

“I’m more so concerned about why you feel the need to babysit.” Jihyo said, sitting down in the chair beside Nayeon’s.

She took a good look at Nayeon- at the way her bottom lip poked out, pouting as she judged her wife. She pushed her sunglasses up on her head, revealing those beautiful, round eyes. Her face scrunched from the sunlight, her nose crinkling. Jihyo thought she was the prettiest person to have ever existed.

“There’s a masc shortage, sweetheart.” Nayeon said, shifting to get her glass of lemonade off the table. She took a sip. “I can’t have anyone trying to steal her from us.”

Jihyo chuckled. She watched as Jeongyeon finally gave up, letting out an annoyed groan as she kicked the side of the lawnmower. As if by magic, the machine whirred to life. Jeongyeon let out her excited squawks, jumping around it in a circle with her arms up before turning to look up at them on the porch, a giant grin plastered on her face, adorned by those beautiful crescent moon eyes.

Jihyo waved, smiling back. Nayeon clapped beside her, cheering. Jeongyeon took a bow before adjusting herself and cheerfully flexing her biceps- putting on a show for her two favorite girls, as always. Nayeon whistled, and Jihyo rolled her eyes, laughing. She looked like an idiot. Jihyo loved her more than words would ever describe.

“I don’t think anyone besides us wants her that badly, Nay.” Jihyo huffed out, taking a sip of her drink.

“I’d sure hope so.” Nayeon said, looking over at her. “I’m selfish. No one deserves her more than we do. I don’t wanna share.”

Jihyo shared the same sentiment, but didn’t say it. She sat back on her seat, watching as Jeongyeon finally got to mowing the grass- sweat already ruining the muscle shirt that clung to her torso. She glanced over at Nayeon again, who was smiling so brightly, laughing as she watched Jeongyeon do her best to maneuver that piece of junk around the front yard, pulling her sunglasses back down over her eyes.

These were her people. They were her reason for existing, for continuing to exist. They made life seem so simple- so perfect. She had something to fight for that was real, tangible. She was so lucky to have this, to have them. To have them share themselves with her, to lay everything about themselves out on the table for her. Over and over, they shared everything. Jihyo never knew she could have this much love for more than one person- she never knew soulmates could be a trio until she met them.

“I’m gonna go get dinner started. Wanted to make kimchi stew for you.” Nayeon said. “Help me up?”

Jihyo set her drink down. Wordlessly she got up, going over to Nayeon’s side, taking her empty cup from her. She lifted Nayeon’s ankles up and off the footrest, gently setting her feet down on the ground. She moved to wrap her arm around Nayeon’s waist, counted to three, waited for Nayeon’s approval, before hoisting her up. They stood there for a moment, ignoring the heat, pressed as close together as they possibly could be.

“Thank you, baby.” Nayeon said softly, pulling Jihyo in for a kiss.

“It’s not a problem, Nay. You know that.” Jihyo said, smiling as Nayeon pulled away.

“I know.” Nayeon whispered, tapping Jihyo’s cheek a few times with her fingers. “But can’t a girl say thank you to her emotional support futch every once in a while?”

Jihyo snorted.

“I guess she can. Especially when you say it so sweetly.”

She helped Nayeon get inside along with their empty cups, her arm never leaving the older woman’s waist until they made it to the kitchen. Nayeon insisted she could handle it from there. And really, Jihyo knew she could, but the worry would never leave. She had come a long way since the accident- her body bounced back shockingly well. She just needed a little help getting started still, and Jihyo was more than happy to provide it.

After a few more kisses and some filthy comments about what they’d be doing later from Nayeon, Jihyo went back out to check on Jeongyeon. The lawnmower had finally given out, but thankfully Jeongyeon had just finished the yard. She was sitting on the steps, slamming the glass of lemonade that Nayeon had left behind for her.

“You good, Jeong?” Jihyo asked, her arms crossed as she stood behind her.

Jeongyeon finished the glass, grinning from ear to ear as she tilted her head back to look up at Jihyo.

“Never been better, Hyo.”

Jihyo rolled her eyes and helped pull her up. Jeongyeon stretched her arms out, her back cracking loudly. It made both of them laugh. Jeongyeon took the opportunity to pull Jihyo into one of her bear hugs.

“God- Jeongyeon- you’re so sweaty.” Jihyo protested. Her arms wrapped right around Jeongyeon’s waist, her head finding its spot on her shoulder. “Get off of me.”

“You love it though. Can’t get enough of it.” Jeongyeon teased, pressing a kiss to Jihyo’s temple.

“Shut up.” Jihyo hissed, finally pulling away. “Go take a shower.”

Jihyo went back into the house and Jeongyeon followed her. While Jihyo stopped to take her shoes off, Jeongyeon got right behind her, landing a smack on her ass and causing her to yelp.

“C’mon baby. You wouldn’t be complaining about it if I took you right here- you love it that much.” Jeongyeon said, smirking mischievously before running off, back to their bedroom.

“Shut up!” Jihyo yelled, regaining her balance. “Oh my god. You and Nayeon are so nasty! No decorum around here.”

“Wouldn’t be fun if we had any, and you know it.” Nayeon said, peeking her head out from the kitchen. She had her usual grin on her face.

Jihyo rolled her eyes. She walked back to the kitchen and rejoined her partner, helping Nayeon prep the ingredients for the stew. After a bit, Jeongyeon finally came back down- freshly showered, her short, wet hair messy from where she lazily towel dried it. As Jihyo was cutting up pieces of tofu, she watched Jeongyeon walk up behind Nayeon, her arms wrapping around her waist.

Jihyo smiled at the sight of the two of them. Nayeon smiled, leaning back against her wife, whispering something up to her that Jihyo couldn’t quite catch. Jeongyeon just chuckled, her nose pressing into Nayeon’s hair.

She couldn’t help but think about them again- about the life they could’ve had together. She couldn’t help but see a future for them every time she passed by that hospital room. The way Yeji would speak and Ryujin would just listen, smiling. How Ryujin would hold Yeji’s hand the entire time. They deserved something good more than anyone else. She was happy they had each other until the end.

She could only hope to have a love like that. Well, she didn’t really need to hope for it- she had it. It was already right in front of her, their force of gravity pulling her in over and over again.

[lovesongbracket]

Reminder: Vote based on the song, not the artist or specific recording! The tracks referenced are the original artist, aside from a few rare cases where a cover is the most widely known.

Lyrics, videos, info, and notable covers under the cut. (Spotify playlist available in pinned post)

No Children

Written By: John Darnielle

Artist: The Mountain Goats

Released: 2002

It should be noted that this song, and entire album, was written through the point of view of an imagined couple–known as the Alpha couple. In John’s own words, “The Alpha couple are these people who get together in California, and they fall in love, but they’re really broken people, and they’re very bad for each other – they’re both big liquor enthusiasts. They move to Las Vegas and live in a motel for a year, out of a sort of romanticized vision of how they’re supposed to live, and things just keep getting worse, so they just flee across the country in the hopes of starting a new life, but they haven’t really thought it through at all. So they get to Tallahassee, and that’s where I always envisioned them falling apart, in some tiny little house”. “No Children” is a staple of band’s live shows and certainly among their most well-known. The song further expands upon the notion that this couple cannot ever be content, and know only how to live in chaos and misery. The Alpha couple were put to rest by Darnielle after the release of Tallahassee in 2002–though John has said he could one day bring them back. Darnielle stated, “This is a song that I want you to know when it comes time for your divorce. You could be in a lawyer’s office somewhere off 15-501 in one of those little business parks you don’t normally go to saying, ‘Well, I must’ve driven past this place a thousand times. Now I’m going to get my divorce.’ Like some people wait for Christmas; it’s a different sort of Christmas. And as you prepare to sign the papers, you say, ‘I’m glad I’ve got that one tune.’ ”

[Verse 1] I hope that our few remaining friends Give up on trying to save us I hope we come up with a fail-safe plot To piss off the dumb few that forgave us I hope the fences we mended Fall down beneath their own weight And I hope we hang on past the last exit I hope it's already too late [Pre-Chorus 1] And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here Someday burns down And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away And I never come back to this town again [Chorus 1] In my life I hope I lie, and tell everyone you were a good wife And I hope you die I hope we both die [Verse 2] I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow I hope it bleeds all day long Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises We're pretty sure they're all wrong I hope it stays dark forever I hope the worst isn't over And I hope you blink before I do And I hope I never get sober [Pre-Chorus 2] And I hope when you think of me years down the line You can't find one good thing to say And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out You'd stay the hell out of my way [Chorus 2] I am drowning There is no sign of land You are coming down with me Hand in unlovable hand And I hope you die I hope we both die

I Was Born to Love You

Written By: Freddie Mercury

Artist: Freddie Mercury

Released: 1985

Cover included: Queen, 1995

“I Was Born to Love You” is a 1985 song by Freddie Mercury, and was released as a single and on the Mr. Bad Guy album. After Mercury’s death, Queen re-worked this song for their album Made in Heaven in 1995, by having the other members play their instrumental parts over the original track transforming the song from a disco song to a rock song. The Queen version from the Made in Heaven album also includes samples of Mercury’s ad-lib vocals taken from “A Kind of Magic” and from “Living On My Own”.

[Chorus Intro] An amazing feeling coming through I was born to love you With every single beat of my heart Yes, I was born to take care of you Every single day of my life [Verse 1] You are the one for me, I am the man for you You were made for me, you're my ecstasy If I was given every opportunity I'd kill for your love, hey So take a chance with me, let me romance with you I'm caught in a dream, and my dream's come true (It's) so hard to believe this is happening to me An amazing feeling coming through [Chorus] I was born to love you With every single beat of my heart, yeah I was born to take care of you, huh Every single day of my life [Verse 2] I wanna love you, I love every little thing about you I wanna love you, love you, love you (Born) to love you, (born) to love you, yes (born) I was born to love you (Born) to love you, (born) to love you every single day of my life I was born to take care of you every single day of my life [Instrumental Break] [Bridge] My life! Hey hey! Every single day of my life [Chorus] I was born to love you With every single beat of my heart Yeah, I was born to take care of you, honey Every single day of my life

[artificialqueens]

The One Where Sasha Owns a Used Book Store (Anetra x Sasha) - Writworm42

A/N: hey y'all. Been a minute, but I’m back back back again. I’m sorry for the prolonged absence, but thanks everyone who’s stuck with me and encouraged me to keep writing. I have, in a way–I’m working on Come Hell or Full Circle chapter 6 still, though I was doing it slowly for a while due to some intense burnout. In the meantime, I’ve become obsessed with Anetra x Sasha–they’ve kind of re-lighted my interest in shipping and in writing. So here we go–my first drabble in a while. Thank you times a thousand to athena2 for helping me scrape up the courage to post this, to holtz for hyping up my writing, and to everyone who commented on my works on ao3 in my absence letting me know I was missed.

Alright, now that we’ve got the sappy stuff out of the way–here we go. 

–

Sasha’s head snaps up at the sound of the bell, her heart pounding a little more than it should. Her hands freeze over the books she’s labeling and she cranes to see the entering customer, her breath catching in her throat.

Please be her, please be her…

She breathes out a sigh of relief, her face melting into a smile as a tall raven-haired woman comes around the corner, nodding to Sasha as she walks past the checkout counter just like she has every day for the past three weeks. The smile on her face, slight and shy and yet somehow knowing, is enough to make Sasha’s heart flutter, and she finds her breath taken away all over again, just like always.

“Hey there,” Sasha greets the woman, trying her best to keep it casual. “Let me know how it’s go–” she stops suddenly, her eyes widening and face growing hot as she hears the two sentences on her tongue blend together before she can stop them. 

“It’s going good,” the woman shoots Sasha a quizzical look, but her smile doesn’t fade, only takes on a bit of bemusement. “How’s it going with you?”

Oh, just peachy. Just great, Sasha thinks to herself, her blush deepening. She glances down at the floor, cursing the fact that there’s no hole opening to swallow her up.

“It’s–I’m good,” she stutters out. “Just, um, pricing some new stuff someone brought in yesterday.” 

“New stuff?” the woman perks up, making her way over to the counter. “Sweet! Can I see?”

“Mhm,” Sasha grins, sliding over some of the already-labeled paperbacks. “Mostly pulp fiction. I think the person used to be a collector or something.” 

“That, or they really like lesbian smut,” the woman whistles, holding up a beaten-up book emblazoned with two barely-dressed women on the cover, the title Her Naked Secret splashed in large font over the illustration. 

Fuck. She’d been so distracted by the woman’s arrival that she forgot which pile was which genre. Which means that every single title in that stack was…

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t–” she scrambles to swipe the pile of erotica away, but the woman just laughs. 

“It’s okay,” she grins, shaking her head as she lays a comforting hand over Sasha’s own. “So do I.” 

Wait. Hold on. Is this woman actually–could it be that–

Oh my God. Sasha’s heart is pounding so hard it’s in her throat, and it’s all she can do not to start stammering all over again as she looks down at the beautiful woman’s hand on top of her own. But the woman must notice Sasha’s silence, because she pulls back suddenly.

“Too much?” she winces. 

“A little,” Sasha laughs. “But don’t worry about it. It’s nice to not be the only awkward duck here.” 

“Awkward duck, huh?” the woman repeats to herself, her mouth spreading into a grin as she looks back up at Sasha again. “I like that. I’m gonna steal that. Thanks, ah…” 

“Sasha.” Despite the pounding in her chest, Sasha smiles breezily. Now that the ice has been broken, albeit a bit awkwardly, everything feels a little lighter. A little more normal.

“I’m Anetra,” the woman sticks out her hand again, which Sasha takes, her stomach flipping at the feeling of how soft Anetra’s skin is. 

“Anetra,” Sasha repeats. “Pretty.”

“Me, or the name?” Anetra teases, but from the twinkle in her eye, Sasha can tell that it might not be as much of a joke as she’s letting on. 

“Both.” Sasha tries to make her voice confident, as if she doesn’t feel as if she’s going to throw up. In a sudden burst of courage–or maybe it’s just a half-baked attempt to make herself believe she’s brave–she swipes her thumb over the back of Anetra’s palm, suppressing a shudder when Anetra’s breath hitches. But as Sasha’s hand drops, Anetra recovers, and that beautiful knowing smile is back, a little cockier and a little more meaningful than before. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Anetra winks. “Which reminds me… I’d like to buy this, please.” she grins cheekily as she slides Her Naked Secret over to Sasha, who can’t help but laugh.

“Having a private night in?” she jokes as she scans it, but Anetra just shakes her head.

“Nope,” she grins. “But I am gonna do this–” she opens the book, then promptly tears off the table of contents.

“Hey, you can’t–”

“–And then I’m gonna do this,” Anetra flips open her purse to pull out a peb without so much as skipping a beat, “And then this.” she quickly scribbles before handing the page back to a completely dumbstruck Sasha. 

“Text me some time, yeah?” she winks one last time before putting a five dollar bill over the paperback, then turning and walking out without another word.

Sasha looks down at the numbers scrawled across the piece of paper and smiles to herself, a warm feeling flooding her chest. 

When the exit bell chimes, Sasha doesn’t look up–she’s too busy opening her phone, already planning what to write. 

[devilofthehounds]

God Eater 3 Character Novel | In the Name of the White Flower: Chapter 6

[image id: A novel cover. Hilda Henriquez from God Eater 3 stands in the foreground. In the background are profile shots of Abraham Gadolin (top left) and Werner Gadolin (bottom right). Separating the two are a pair of red armlets, streaks of dried blood overlaid on top of them. The text, when translated into English, reads, “God Eater 3 Character Novel | Chapter 5: Hilda Edition | In the Name of the White Flower”. /end id]

This is a fan translation. Original text here.

Masterpost 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

Adaptive God Eater. AGE.

With the discovery of "Adaptive Bias Factor", which could provide resistance to the ash that made up the Ashlands, God Eaters who were found to be compatible with it came to be known as AGEs.

However, compatibility could only be determined by administering both ash and adaptive bias factor into the subject's body. If the subject was incompatible, they would die.

To increase the success rate even the slightest bit, veteran God Eaters with high compatibility were selected one after another as test subjects. However, the success rate was below five percent, and many lost their lives during these aptitude tests.

Even so, for the sake of humanity.

With those words in mind, many brave heroes volunteered to take the AGE aptitude test.

Unless someone could overcome this ordeal of a second aptitude test, there would be no future for humanity.

With the sacrifice of hundreds, even thousands of precious souls, research into ash and adaptive bias factor progressed, and a procedure for the aptitude test granting a small but high chance of success was established.

And yet.

"I... lost another subordinate to the AGE aptitude test today."

The heart of one who stood atop a pile of corpses could not be saved.

Late one night, I found Werner slumped over in his room, looking as though he were a million miles away.

"The truth is, I intended to take the aptitude test before anyone else did. I thought that, by showing them the way, I could give them even a little courage... but..."

With Fenrir now effectively defunct, Gleipnir and Governor-General Gadolin had begun to exert their influence throughout Europe.

Werner, the governor-general's son, would never be allowed to put his life at such risk.

"Too many people have died... And now, even the very mention of 'AGE' strikes fear into the hearts of God Eaters. Every day, I can only watch as my comrades die one after another, my only assignment being to suppress the innocents who have begun to riot out of fear and panic... What am I even doing anymore?"

One day, your efforts will be rewarded. You will be able to once again pursue your dream.

I couldn't bring myself to give him words of encouragement. It felt as though it would diminish the weight of the lives sacrificed thus far.

Still, I wanted to help heal his broken heart, even just a little.

I wanted to tell him that no matter how cruel reality became, I would remain by his side.

Without a word, I gently embraced him.

"...I'm sorry, Hilda. I've been pretty pathetic lately, huh?"

Werner smiled weakly as he stood up.

"I've heard that the improved aptitude tests for the second generation of AGEs will begin tomorrow. Let's hope it will reduce the number of casualties, even if only a little. ...Please, rest for today."

I watched as Werner left the room, then hung my head in despair.

Werner was no longer a researcher, eyes shining with dreams. Now, he was only a God Eater, expected to fulfill his duties.

The one I had walked with, the two of us searching for the same light, was getting further and further away. I couldn't help but feel frustrated as I started to lose sight of what it meant to stand by him.

The next day.

I decided to visit Iris and the others in the residential area of the base.

But the children were nowhere to be found.

"Where did everyone...?"

It was strange. There didn't seem to be a single child within the base.

I desperately ran from place to place, searching for Iris and the others.

"Ha... Ha... Hilda!"

Soon, Werner appeared, looking as out of breath as I felt.

In his wide-open eyes, I could see confusion, as well as a faint flame of anger.

"Werner... Iris... The children... I can't find them..."

"...!"

Werner turned on his heel and ran off. Instinctively, I followed after him.

We arrived at the governor-general's office.

As soon as we entered, Werner's fiery, incensed voice roared out.

"Father, what have you done?!"

I staggered closer to Governor-General Gadolin as he silently endured his son's wrath.

"Governor-General... The children...?"

I desperately hoped I was wrong.

In my heart, I held onto that hope as I asked one single question.

"...The children of this base have been sent to take the second-generation AGE aptitude test."

The shock made me fall to my knees, as if I had been punched.

"The adaptive bias factor, as with the standard aptitude test, tends to have a higher compatibility the younger the subject is... There was no other choice."

"Don't give me that! You forced children to become God Eaters?! Why didn't you tell me?!"

Werner grabbed his father by the collar, but Governor-General Gadolin maintained his composure.

"I knew you would react like this. If I had told you, you would have tried to prevent it."

"Of course I would have! Father, how could you?!"

"For the future of humanity."

That one sentence created a decisive crack in something unseen.

The starting point of our dream.

We had envisioned a world where no one would have to say those words.

"Second-generation experiments have already begun throughout Europe. We have no choice but to place our hopes in the children."

"Father... You... Do you understand what you're saying?"

"Despise me all you like. However..."

The governor-general coolly removed Werner's hand as he stood dazed.

"This is the path we must walk."

The governor-general took his leave.

Werner's hands were braced on his father's desk. He hung his head in silence, thinking.

"There might still be time to save at least some of them..."

Carrying those words like a prayer, Werner left the room with a ghostly gait.

I was left alone in the governor-general's office, further from my dream than I had ever been.

"Ah... Aaaaah...!"

I could no longer hold back my tears.

Iris. The children. In my mind, I saw the smiles of those whose hearts had connected to mine, so vivid it bordered on cruelty.

The path we adults had chosen to walk would swallow up the lives of more children than we could ever imagine.

Stepping over the corpses of children to pursue my dream—I could never do that.

That bright dream itself was being swallowed up by the darkness of reality.

After that, I couldn't remember where I walked, or how.

"Seems like children will be taking the AGE aptitude test from now on... Honestly, I'm relieved."

The image of God Eaters saying such things and smiling together in peace was burned into my mind.

I wandered the base, drowning in despair. Eventually, I found myself sitting alone at the end of a deserted corridor, hugging my knees.

Word had it this base would soon be swallowed up by the Ashlands.

Soon, work would begin to complete the underground base, as well as the transfer of key facilities.

Our dream had finally begun to take shape.

Why was I here? Why was I so frustrated?

What had I been working toward all this time?

".........Um..."

As I dove deeper within my memories, my eyes closed to the world, it happened.

A faint voice shook me out of my daze.

"...Huh?"

I looked up. In front of me stood the purple-haired girl, her sketchbook on her back.

"You... What are you doing here?!"

Hadn't the children been forced to take the AGE aptitude test?

The girl, her expression as blank as ever, handed me a tablet she had been holding, though I couldn't even begin to fathom where she had gotten it from.

It seemed the tablet could display video footage from within the base.

You could even use it to manipulate the movement of the cameras and create blind spots.

"Don't tell me... You've been using this to hide from the researchers?"

A feat like that could only be accomplished with pure, natural talent.

In response to my question, the girl opened her sketchbook.

The picture was drawn quickly and accurately, the faces of the subjects captured clearly.

A group of researchers. Children lined up in a row, forming a wall. At one end of the line, a girl with glasses stood with her arms outstretched, protecting another girl.

"Could it be... Is this you and Iris?"

A short nod convinced me.

Iris, sensing the danger, had saved the girl from the experiment.

"It'll... be... okay... We'll... see... each... other... again..."

Pointing at Iris's image, the girl seemed to be trying to convey her will. I couldn't help but hug her tightly.

This child was the hope that Iris—and all the children—protected with every wish they had.

"That's right... Don't worry. I'll protect you..."

Trying to convince myself as well, I swore upon the hope entrusted to me by Iris.

For the child who had always dreamed of protecting her family.

No matter what, I would protect this girl.

"...What's your name?"

The girl quickly scribbled her signature in the corner of the sketchbook.

It was signed "Amy".

[queencharlott]

The Farmer's Wife: Chapter 3

chapter index • ← previous chapter • next chapter →

Charlotte’s mother died in June. 

The illness came on too fast and too strong. It had only taken three days before they buried her.

For weeks afterwards, Charlotte sought refuge in her sister’s comfort. Christiane would hold her as she wept, stroke her hair, both shedding silent tears as they contemplated their futures. Charlotte had never been one to lean on anyone, especially not her sister, but this was the only time when she needed her more than ever. They had no parents now. It was only them against the world.

All the kids, Williams and Shaw, attended the funeral. She was the first mother to her own children, second mother to George’s family. Thirteen solemn children along with Augusta had said their goodbyes. Every single one of them wept, even the boys.

Elisabeth Shaw had been the type of woman to instill the love of life and family in her own children. There was nothing she loved more in the world than her own children, except perhaps her neighbors’. Each had a seat at the table, a shoulder to cry on, and a humble ear to listen when things got bad. 

“Mama?” asked Charlotte. The eight year old sat curled in her mother’s lap, anxiously chewing her nails.

“Yes, darling?” 

“Is papa with my brother and sisters?”

Elisabeth looked at her daughter with weary eyes. Tears welled but they did not fall. She nodded mournfully.

“Yes, dearest,” she shuddered. She had refused to let her voice crack. She needed to stay strong for her children. She stroked the curly hair that matched her own. “He is with them watching over us.”

Charlotte nodded. “I miss him,” said the little girl. She did not have the words to describe what she felt. All she knew was the emptiness she felt inside. She did not comprehend that her mother felt the same sinking emptiness, multiplied by thousands. Elisabeth would never show it.

“I know, sweetheart.” The tears fell, hot and fast. “It will be alright.”

--

“Charlotte,” George pleaded, knocking at the door until his knuckles were red and raw. “Talk to me.” 

“Go away,” said the muffled voice from behind the door. “I am tired and do not want to be bothered.” 

“Charlotte, I do not like seeing you like this.” He leaned his head on the door in exasperation. His voice was weary. Christiane had enlisted his help a few days ago.

“George,” said the young woman, catching him as he made his way into the barn. Christiane had never wasted a word on frivolous conversation in her life. His brows furrowed with concern. “I cannot get Charlotte out of bed. She does her chores, she works, but there is no life in her anymore. 

I know how she enjoys your company. Please, is there anything you can do to help?”

By the time he had finished the day’s work Charlotte had hidden herself away. He had not seen her in weeks. She kept to the house. She fled each time he came near the kitchen window. He had to make do with the flashes of the puff of her hair, the whirl of a dress. She would not come out until she was ready. George feared that it might never be. 

Even still, he made his way up to the upstairs hallway each night. He took a spot in front of the door, leaning his head against it. The ceiling was an empty canvas on which to draw. He plotted the stars and the planets over and over again as he waited for anything to change. It never did. But still he would keep waiting.

--

He had nearly fallen asleep when the doorknob turned. 

“You are still here?” she asked in surprise through the crack in the door. He did not dare to look. It would be scandalous to see her in her night dress.

“Yes,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “Do not worry. I will leave.” He made to get up.

“No,” she whispered desperately. “Please. Stay.”

And he did. 

--

The Charlotte that George knew would never completely return to herself. She would hold the grief inside her from then and forever. He knew he could not fix her broken heart nor return her mother to her. The only thing he could do, and for which Charlotte was eternally grateful, was to leave space for her memory. On those nights when they would sit against the bedroom wall, talking through the crack in the door, they would reminisce about her mother. 

“My baking skills were doomed from the start, you know,” she said. She was staring at the bedroom wall, but her mental image of him was so vivid it was like he was sitting across from her.

“Oh?”

“We were making shortbread. My first time, her… millionth. She told me to get the dry ingredients, which I obliged. She missed me mixing up the salt and sugar,” Charlotte recollected. “The look on her face when she tasted those. I nearly burst into tears. But she just laughed, tears in her own eyes. She had never thought a thing so funny.”

Charlotte laughed through her tears. George had joined her.

Other times, they would sit in silence. His presence was enough for her.

The night before she extracted herself from her bedroom for good, she had slipped a piece of paper under the door. Thank you, it read. For listening. He stashed the paper away with the farmhouse in the field, in a journal no one would see but him.

--

And so the Shaw children soldiered on. Grief blanketed the farm like three inches of snow. Only the passage of time could melt the snow, making it bearable to go outside once more. For Charlotte, it felt as though the winter was endless and that spring might never come. The grief had frozen her but slowly, slowly did she begin to thaw.

Still reclusive but much more herself, Charlotte had begun hesitatingly to do the things she once enjoyed. It almost felt as though she did not deserve to be joyful. But she knew that her mother would not approve of this. She did it for her.

George found Charlotte had been sketching in the barn, nestled in a chair of hay.

“George?” 

A sweaty tunic stuck to his trim body, his forehead dripping with perspiration. She barely noticed that every single one of his abs was showing quite magnificently through his soaked shirt. He wiped his face with his sleeve, attempting to regain his breath from the long run over here. He took a seat beside her. Though he did not smell of flowers and waterfalls, she did not seem to mind. Her thoughts were on other things.

“When I think back on her memory, I feel more joy than sadness.” She nodded somberly. She knew grief would not be a linear process, but she was glad of some relief. “I do miss her though.”

He wrapped his arm around her. “I miss her, too,” he agreed, quietly. Without even realizing it, he was making gentle swirls into her forearm.

It was the first time that she hadn’t lusted over his physical appearance. Of course, no one could deny that he was a strikingly beautiful man. But he was greater than the sum of his parts. She had not realized the depth of his gentle soul nor the tenderness of his heart. Her own heart ached for her mother, yes, but for him too. 

Charlotte leaned her head into his shoulder. She closed her eyes. She could feel his heart beating, his lungs inhale and exhale, his fingers caressing her arm. How perfectly she fit into his arm, how perfectly her head fit onto his shoulder, Charlotte thought. 

How perfectly she fit into his arm, how perfectly her head fit onto his shoulder, thought George.

Two pieces of a puzzle. Two halves of one whole.

chapter index • ← previous chapter • next chapter →

[nacht-funken]

A few minutes ago I stood at the window

and looked out at the sun,

which is hidden behind clouds.

It hasn‘t rained yet today,

but it‘s really cloudy

and the weather makes me feel a bit off.

Whatever.

As I stood there,

a simple quote came to my mind.

Maybe you fell in love first, but I fell much harder.

And maybe it‘s true.

I fell in love with all of you,

every single part.

I love the way you make me laugh,

even if there is nothing to laugh about.

I love the way you act at 3am,

which is so cute,

and I adore you even more,

because at night you keep showing me the little cute mess of you,

and I love this mess of you.

I‘d write a thousand books

about how amazing you are,

if I could.

I‘m so jealous of everyone,

who can see you every day.

They are so incredible lucky.

I fell in love with your scars,

inside and out,

and I will never be afraid of them.

I told you, I will kiss every single one of them,

and I don‘t care how long it takes.

It‘s true.

I can't promise to fix all your problems,

but I can promise,

you won't have to face them all alone.

I know, it is hard for you sometimes,

and everything feels like it is too much.

And I’m sure,

it’s sometimes even more harder,

to let me see you in all your cracked perfection,

but I want you to know,

that for me,

you are flawless.

Even if you‘re broken into a thousand pieces,

every single one of these little questions,

make you so much more beautiful.

I promise not to give up on us.

I know, it has been hard for you.

It is hard.

You deserve happiness.

I mean true happiness.

That kind of happiness,

that makes your heart fill with warmth.

And you deserve to feel what it feels like,

to be okay.

To feel like the world isn’t against you.

And more than anything,

you deserve to be okay.

I know it's hard to hear this,

especially when you are so far away from loving yourself.

Soon, you’re going to be okay again.

Soon, you’re going to be happy again.

It's just a matter of time.

All I ask is that you hold on for a little bit longer.

I’m not sure of what tomorrow brings,

or even the next day.

But I’m damn sure that you will be mine.

I choose you, because it‘s you.

In a heartbeat, I‘d choose you.

I‘d choose you every single day again,

over and over.

I‘d choose you, no matter what.

I‘d choose you, out of a billion people.

I‘d choose you, because my soul feels you.

And maybe I fell in love first,

and maybe you fell much harder.

I got to love your voice first,

before I fell for your mind.

I fell for your personality,

the way you speak and write,

the way you think,

the way you move.

I even love the way

you make me stupidly smile at my phone,

when I see your name on the screen.

I don‘t want to lose you.

I can‘t lose you.

My life has been better since I met you.

You make everything okay.

No one else can do that for me,

only you.

Love isn‘t always pretty.

But the fact of missing you,

reminds me even more,

of how much you are worth to me.

Every second I miss you is another one,

I fall harder for you.

Every moment,

I hear your voice or see you smile,

makes the feeling of missing you

disappear for a moment.

The moment,

I saw into your eyes the first time,

the game was over.

I lost myself in you.

I lost myself in staring at you.

And you make it kinda hard not to stare.

You’re worth the distance,

because I know,

one day we will be together.

I love you more than anything.

- Moon

[blue-blooming-hearts-blog]

Mirror

When I look at myself,

It's like I'm looking in a shattered mirror,

Reflecting thousands of little parts of myself,

From multiple different angles.

When I look at myself,

I see the daughter who strived for good grades to make sure that the money wasn't going to waste,

The little girl who subjected herself to peer pressure to have friends,

The teenager that had to pick up the pieces of her parents marriage,

The friend who lent an ear but kept her issues to herself,

The girlfriend who would protect and love unconditionally until they broke her heart and then some,

I see the responsible student who was a pleasure to have in class and showed interest in the curriculum,

And the girl who rescues animals,

The one who would fight anyone to protect who she loves,

And the one who'd forgive anyone and naively believe them to never do the same things again,

I see the *me* that makes things easier for others. That bends over backwards to please them. The one who would do anything for you, for them. The one who wants so badly to be loved.

But I also see the bitch who broke his heart,

The unmotivated student who won't go very far,

The freak no one wanted to be friends with,

The hard headed girl who doesn't know when to fucking quit and treats everyone like shit,

And the daughter he wishes he never had,

I see the body I have always disliked and the personality traits I find annoying, the voice that sounds like a dying cat, and my inability to stay quiet and I see the standards I wasn't able to reach and the disappointment in my mother's eyes,

And the hatred on my own, which mirror my dad's in so many ways.

And I see the one who wishes she was good enough.

The one who believed every single insult thrown her way and that wouldn't bounce off no matter how rubbery she made herself to be.

And no matter how much I look,

How much I try to see,

I will never be as beautiful as you think I am.

How dare you look at me and all the same broken pieces *I* see,

And instead of finding the monster,

Finding someone worthy of love?

And, worse, how dare you see all that,

All those sides of me,

How dare you love me,

Only to then turn around and stab me

With those fucking mirror shards?

[anotherclassicpretence]

Okay, random Star Wars: Rebels ramble, feel free to skip, because it is really long and mostly praise that someone's probably already described better than me. Also, spoilers for seasons 1-3.

Rebels is so good? Genuinely the first and only Star Wars media that truly drove me crazy 'cause the writing, the score (Force theme I love you and how you're subtle but potent in every instance), the characters, even the art style? Made me cry actual tears with their moments of brilliance.

TCW is so widely considered the superior one but the "The Last Battle" episode in Rebels made me have more feelings about the Clone Wars than all 7 seasons of TCW. Like, that little homage to the show with the end logo and score? Had me crying, the futility and destruction wrought on the entirety of the galaxy by that war only affected me after that episode. It gave a lot of emotional context to the events of TCW, I felt a weird fondness for the TCW characters after this episode. Also, captain Rex in Rebels is dealt with beautifully.

All the "big-shot" characters are dealt with well, actually. Ahsoka, Vader, Obi-wan, even Maul- none of them seem overdone, or like they're stealing the show, but their lines are powerful. The final few minutes of the S2 finale, where there's a montage of everyone's fate, and then the fade-out on a hopeful note despite the horror of everything? Made me have incoherent thoughts.

Vader walking out completely exhausted, the lightsaber mark on his helmet, limping physically and emotionally? I felt that scene- I felt the pain and conflict in his heart even in that simple walk- in the way he tried to negotiate with Ahsoka, in that uncertainty in his eye before he suppressed Anakin again, in the way (someone else has pointed this out, borrowing it) he says "revenge is not the jedi way"- it's not a taunt, not really a tactic to make her back down- it's a final lesson to his apprentice. And then, that walking out with the owl (I guess it's an owl) having its happy little flutter over the devastation of that planet? Showed me how powerful yet broken Vader is.

Even Ahsoka's "I won't leave you"- it's not with any real hope that he'll turn. It's a way to seal a gushing wound she knows will never heal otherwise. Her guilt is a factor, but so is the jedi way she claims to have left. She will stand by her loyalty to Anakin, even if it kills her. And implying that it does kill her, but still showing her silhouette in the blinding light for a second? dfjiwrgbju I know she comes back, because spoilers from Mandalorian, but I'm beyond excited to see how.

The Spectres have my heart, every single one, and I love how all of them are taken seriously. I won't get started on any of them cause I won't be able to stop. They seem realer, more human, more attached to each other; more like a family, in a nutshell, than any group in TCW (for me, at least). The slow unravelling of their personal histories is done realistically, and the absence of OP heroes whose lightsabers can cut through a thousand droids kinda... elevates the plots? All the Spectres use their respective skills, their plans are dynamic and refreshing because of the different approaches they take, and each episode explores different planets and peoples with a closeness that I feel was absent in TCW. They aren't just tactically judged- we feel an affinity for the Rebels' cause through their respect for the people they help. The Ghosts of Geonosis episodes, with the last surviving native and the egg, are a nice example of this.

S2's finale, with Ezra's temptation and Kanan's blinding, sets up S3's conflicts beautifully, while still showing that the family's love for each other will carry them through, together. The fact that their responsibilities have grown, their risks and reach expanded, their individual demons demanding resolutions- all of it prophetizes danger, but hope that goodness will prevail- which in my opinion is the point of all of Star Wars.

It also sets up the Rebellion and the Empire as each other's foils, and does it well- it gets too on-the-nose sometimes (Saw Gerrera episode) but I think the episode where Zeb and Agent Kallus are stuck on the ice moon maintains subtlety while driving this point home. Kallus isn't bereft of honor, he's not inherently cruel, and he starts off with good intentions, but the Empire's way of doing things is calculated to quash any and all warmth or camaraderie. Kallus watching Zeb getting rescued by his team, with all their concern and joy, and contrasting that with the cold welcome he himself receives, the dreary and desolate quarters that are his home- it truly makes his defection believable, and it endeared his character to me. His changing relationship with his own sense of duty was conveyed in a lucid but not overt manner. Also, on the subject of foils, someone had mentioned that Kanan and the GI are such a pair, which I didn't really see, but I think S3 is doing a good job of setting Hera and Thrawn as each other's foils, with their approach to, or rather philosophy of, leadership- both are effective, but one will ultimately best the other. No, I'm not completely basing this off the screen cutting back and forth to their faces during part 1 of the S3 finale, why do you ask?

For the point of camaraderie, you also have the examples of Imperial training- no referring to each other with names, "there are no friendships here", the encouragement of disdain for each other- it portrays how many of the Imperials have had so much of their humanity taken away that believing in the Empire's grand vision is all they have left to console themselves. On the other hand, we have the Rebels treating even Chopper as a sadistic and cranky crew member. The droid double agent episode? Love. This can't be Chopper, he's too polite. They actually name the Attolan base after him.

Also, S3 gave us Grand Admiral Thrawn. Gold star. Stupendous. Villain of the year. I know he's going to wreck shit in the S3 finale, cannot wait to want to punch him. The politeness, the level-headedness, the cold, calculated cruelty; this guy is Competent, and his voice actor has my undying respect. Impeccable example of a voice "so soft you can hear the ice settling on his tongue". I'm starting to feel bad for how his accurate deductions never work out because everyone implementing them simply isn't on his level. Alsoo this may completely change with S4, but there's this quote someone used about Julius Caesar- "he is a man of violence, but not a violent man"- which I think describes S3 Thrawn pretty well.

After TCW's episodic cardboard villains, and the other extreme of invincible master deceiver Sidious, Rebels' Thrawn and Callus (first 2 seasons) manage to be an actual recurring threat whose plans are clever enough to challenge the heroes. Whenever Vader shows up, you can see why he's feared- not just for his prowess in conflict, but for his intelligence and perception- the crumbling Imperial resistance on Lothal in S1 suddenly does everything right when Vader shows up. He's only thwarted by having two ships collapse on him, and Ezra's reaction makes it clear that he Did Not expect Vader to brush that off, or survive at all.

Also, character arcs? Maul's despondency and craving for solace, for revenge against the Sith, whose ways he can nevertheless not give up? Kanan's growing acceptance of the Rebellion's bigger purpose and his own reconciliation with the Force and his changing identity as a jedi and teacher? Accomplishing the mark of a true master- trusting their apprentice and letting go because he knows he's done his part teaching? Ezra is... too long for this post. Also, Sabine and Zeb's reconciliation with their family/planet? All the Rebels restoring each others' faith? Even the minor characters- Fenn Rau, Hondo, Callus (don't mind me, this guy just became my blorbo, I absolutely cannot with him in the ice moon episode)- they're all fleshed out really well.

In summary (as if I've actually structured this) Rebels has a lot more heart than other SW media for me- the emotional beats which often fell flat in TCW worked on me here. Every time the Spectres made a decision saying "you are my home, you are my family"- it felt earned. I was genuinely upset even when the Phantom was destroyed. S4 better not come for the Ghost. Rebels really captured the humanity of the galaxy with these touches of how the Rebellion came together- the episode with the B-wing prototype, the squadron team-ups, the local recruits throwing off the yoke of the Empire. The success of the show, I think, was they made it small-scale. The little details took up entire episodes, and I personally couldn't stop watching.

On the subject of ships- Kanan and Hera activated the rijwasbkgie switch in my head that I had, until now, only observed in you fine bloggers.

Just to mention stuff I didn't like- the Inquisitors were cool, but ultimately forgettable. When the Seventh Sister opened her helmet I legit thought BARRISS OFFEE???? for a second, but alas, it was not to be. Also, Azmorigan- slimy, unnecessary, looks and acts like the vibe of the Denethor tomato scene come to life.

To conclude, if you like Star Wars, watch Rebels, especially if you've already watched TCW. I watched in that order (skipped Bad Batch because I'm not sure I'll like it) and it made TCW's points about violence and courage more poignant for me. Also, you get to see a badass character use the Darksaber right when you thought she couldn't get any more badass, and Kanan Jarrus offering free therapy via training to everyone, including, fortunately, himself. The lightsaber duels are to die for; Twilight of the Apprentice boasts probably the best-choreographed duelling in all of Star Wars- the Inquisitors against the jedi (and Ahsoka) and Maul, blind! Kanan defeating Maul, and the Ahsoka/Vader fight that I'm completely normal about? Poetic cinema.