#not me already getting into the fall mood and its literally only June

[kashmirichaiwithmehr]

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[di-daynamic]

Falling (for you) Through The Snow

My fic for @jilychallenge2023 Winter in June Challenge. Partner: @wearingaberetinparis Prompt: You’re a snow artist and I think you just made a snowman(woman) that looks exactly like me… do you have anything to confess?

Lily Evans loathed the winter season.

She hated having to wear unwieldy scarves and large sweaters. She hated shivering and sneezing all the time. She hated the biting chill of the air. She hated the crunching of snow under her feet and having to shovel it out of the way. She hated even the merry carolers and especially the mistletoe she was allergic to.

It was honestly kind of ironic, because the man she was in love with was a snow artist and ice sculptor, which meant he basically personified All The Cold Things. Even imagining watching him make his intricate ice sculptures and snow craft made her smile.

She was that far gone.

Except that scenario was not at all plausible, firstly because she did not know the name of the man she was in love with, and secondly, he did not return her feelings. He was fixated on the The Unattainable Angel, or as Lily liked to call her, The One Who Had No Idea How Lucky She Was.

The name needed some work, but it conveyed her sentiment well enough.

She disliked disliking or competing with a fellow female but. . . Well, emotion did tend to disregard rational judgement and decision-making.

The love of her life thought ‘Effermont’ was a good pen-name, and she’d still fallen for him, so, well, love very clearly was one of those emotions.

It was her turn to write him, wasn’t it? It’d been nearly two days since she’d picked his letter up from Albus Dumbledore’s lovely little café Godric’s Hollow. If she left it much longer, he might think she’d abandoned him.

Or, more likely, that she’d died, seeing as he was rather full of himself on the exterior and would never believe anyone would deny themselves the opportunity to ‘bask in his reflected glory’ (his own words).

She’d grumble about the season to him. That always got him very cutely riled up.

Dear Eff,

Or should I say toff? I can’t believe you have a ski lodge! Are you going to it these hols? And what about your best friend/very annoying brother? Will he be going with you or is his wicked family going to trap him into one of their horror movie family reunions?

I can’t believe it’s winter again. I hate this season so much!

I can just see your face (I mean, I would I if I knew what it looked like) looking so annoyed. I know you like the winter, Eff. It’s the only flaw in your oh-so-perfect self.

I mean, winter is just plain annoying. With literally none of the good things other seasons bring! What comes in the winter? Slipping on the ice? Strawberries?

In other news, my sister and her husband came to visit home and my mum ordered me back, so I spent this weekend in my house in dodgy old Cokeworth. You haven’t heard of it. It’d be a no-name except I just wrote its name, so.

My nephew is a sweet baby, the cutest and chubbiest one on the planet. My sister on the other hand. . . Well, I’ll leave it at ‘we could get along better’. But you already know that. You probably know more of my sister and my relationship than anyone except my old best friend, but talking about him really brings down my mood so I’m not going to do that.

Not that much needs to happen for that. Winter is coming, after all. Winter is already here and that is such a pity.

She bought me this really ugly pink sweater. I’m sure it’s not lost on her that I’m a redhead and therefore ANY pink looks absolutely terrible on me, much less this garish monstrosity that makes me want to poke my eyes out when I look in the mirror while wearing it.

Redheads look terrible in pink. And basically any colour on the red spectrum. It’s a fact of life, and one she knows VERY well.

And she had the nerve to say it suited my personality? I’m sorry, what?

Honestly, sometimes I just want to kill her. And not in the good way – like how you say it about your very annoying best friend/brother.

How goes the life-ending heart rending love for The Unattainable Angel? You didn’t talk about that in your last letter, which is odd. Your letters are usually full of romantic woes. No judgement, mine were too, back when I actually had a romantic life to speak of.

How are your friends? Got into any ridiculous shenangians lately? Have you talked to your mother since your last letter? It sounds like you argued pretty badly and I know she’s very important to you, Mama’s boy.

In all seriousness, don’t let the bitterness fester. It does so too easily, and honestly, I’m a prime example. Don’t let one argument ruin such a wonderful relationship, Eff.

Onto lighter topics. I tried the flavour you recommended at Godric’s. It was good. Just the right amount of bitterness to offset the sweetness. Finally, we can say we both like a coffee flavour! It looked impossible for a while there.

And no, Katniss and Gale would definitely not make a good couple! The sheer amount of sweets you like to have is rotting your brain, Eff. Everlark all the way, thank you very much.

How are your studies going? Mine are going pretty well. At least you don’t need to take a Sociology class which requires you to send letters out to complete strangers in the hopes they’ll reply. I can’t regret picking this social experiment, though, because it got me you, and that made it pretty much worth it.

Pretty much. Weighing it out.

No letter hassle v. No Eff. Hmmm. Hard to say.

Kidding.

Continuing the getting to know you game: I hate, hate, HATE answering this but the embarrassing story about me my mum and dad just adore telling people is the time I went around the house narrating everything that was happening just in case we had cameras recording us for a reality show. Or the time I was flower-girl at my aunt’s wedding and I threw all the flowers on her new husband’s really annoying father’s head. Or the time I tried to cut my hair with safety scissors and had to get a bob cut to rectify the mess. Or the leash story. God, the leash story. You don’t want to know it. It’s even more mortifying as an adult.

If I could holiday anywhere, it’d be Italy. Venice and Rome especially! The thought of going along on a little gondola is just really fun, and Rome has all the history I love. History’s been my favourite subject since I was a kid. Not that I could ever tell dad. Maths has obviously been my sister’s and my favourite since we were kids and still is.

He still isn’t over me studying law.

So, for you! If you could have any name other than your given one (obviously, I don’t know what it is, so please don’t trick me by just using that!) what would it be? If you could have any pet, which animal and why?

And write something for me. You’re a psychology student, psychoanalyze me and write me something I’d like. I know, I know, your artistic talents tend towards visual – being a snow artist and all –  rather than literature, I’m the literature swot between us, but I recorded that song on the piano and sent it to you, didn’t I?

I hope the walls of your house didn’t collapse from how bad that was.

Lots of love,

Flower.

Her pining didn’t show through that, Lily thought, pleased. Nor did her bitterness at asking about The Unattainable Angel. Lily despised the thought of seeing the other girl as a competitor – and she didn’t – but she didn’t need to drive a stake through her heart by repeatedly hearing about her.

But she had long decided the only way to get over a hopeless crush was to power through it while making her heart bleed over and over. Hence the asking.

She folded the letter and slid it into the envelope.

“Lily!” Mary called from the hall. “Are you done getting ready?”

Lily froze guiltily. She’d completely forgotten about the party in favour of venting her frustrations at Eff. He was very good at taking that. He was quite possibly the best pen pal in the universe, except she had no objective way of measuring that.

Subjectively, he absolutely was.

But back to the moment.

“Er, not yet,” she yelled back to her roommate. “Give me a minute!”

She quickly put on the dress Eliza had gotten out for her earlier – much to her protestations then and now relief that she didn’t have to select one herself – and did her makeup. It wasn’t anywhere near what she would have typically done for a party.

“Your minute means an hour,” Mary was exaggeratedly complaining as she slipped out of her room. She frowned at her. “Why do you look like you threw that together in thirty seconds?”

Probably because she had.

“Never mind that,” Eliza said like the godsend she was. “Mare, do her hair while I get the mascara.”

“I don’t get why you guys treat me like a baby,” Lily grumbled, even as grateful as she was.

Eliza pinched her cheek. “Oh poor jelly-baby,” she cooed her very demeaning nickname for Lily.

“Quit acting like one then,” Mary suggested rudely, parting her hair.

“We’re stopping by Godric’s on the way.” Lily announced as she started driving on the icy roads, finally entirely ready. She looked in the rearview mirror for a moment. She looked amazing. Mary and Eliza were miracle workers.

Mary groaned. “Oh, come on. Do you do anything other than write to your beloved Effermont?”

Mary was very disapproving of the whole letter-writing thing: both the concept of writing to a stranger and the reopening of her very tender wounds of heartbreak every time.

“Plenty,” she replied drily. “Listen to your opinions regarding it, for one.”

“I’m just worried about you, Lils!” She called after her as she left the car. They’d reached Godric’s Hollow café.

Fair enough.

Albus Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as brightly as ever as he took her letter outside his café. “Your Effermont is in there right now,” he said amusedly. She flushed at the ‘your’ before actually registering the sentence.

“Oh my God,” she said, feeling a thrill run up her. This was the first time they’d ever been this close to each other – that Lily knew of, anyway. “I should go then. Don’t want him discovering my identity.”

“Of course. Is this the actual letter or simply the directions? For I fear he’s in somewhat of a hurry,” Albus said.

Lily grinned. Eff had made her drink his coffee recommendation – good and not ridiculously sweet for once – before she could get his last letter. She’d once made him climb a tree. He’d once given her a series of riddles to solve before Albus gave her his letter. It was fun, but also not something you could do quickly, and Lily’s grumble fest had been pretty quick. Their letters typically reached seven or eight pages.

“The letter itself,” she assured him, shaking his hand before striding back to the car. Mary frowned disapprovingly, and Eliza gave her a thumbs up.

Mary lectured her about the letters all through the drive, making her very relieved to come up the driveway of the house where Benjy Fenwick was hosting the party.

“That is one big ass house,” she said under her breath as she leaned against her car after parking. Mary and Eliza were already inside.

“Isn’t it just?” Remus Lupin smiled at her, looking as tired as always. “Fenwick has a really huge inheritance.”

She bit back the instinctive ‘how are you’ – she was sure a chronically sick person like him was sick of that (pun unintended) – and instead asked, “Where are your mates?”

He waved vaguely at the house. “Sirius and Peter are in there, causing trouble no doubt, but James got. . . Delayed.” There was a wry twist to the last word that suggested disapproval or amusement. Lily couldn’t tell. “I’m waiting for him now, in fact.”

Alarm reared in her head. The last thing she wanted was to run into James Potter. She didn’t loathe him anymore the way she had in high school, but that didn’t mean she wanted to see him.

Too bad for her.

“Hey, Moony! I’ve got a new—” James Potter stopped short at the sight of her, blinking. He was casually handsome in a polo shirt and jacket and trousers, hair tousled, his spectacles lopsided on his angular face. “Evans.”

“Potter,” she said briskly. “I’ll see you in class, Remus.” She moved towards the house, when Potter grabbed her arm. It was gentle, not restricting or pulling, but it felt like a jolt of electricity ran up her arm. “Don’t touch me!”

She turned to glare at him. He backed up in alarm, holding his hands up. “Sorry, Evans. Just had a question.”

She breathed through her irritation. “What is it?”

“Can I use you as a model?”

“A model for what?” She stared at him.

Potter faltered, “I – uh, I’m an artist of sorts. And I was just wondering, for this commission—”

“You can,” she said brusquely, moving again. She modelled for art classes for extra money. She was used to being a muse for people. She didn’t know why Potter had asked in the first place but. . . It was considerate of him.

Maybe he wasn’t that bad.

On second thought, nah. She remembered the utter fiasco he’d created last week in the mess hall.

Potter was, for some reason, the person she disliked most among the self-proclaimed Marauders. Perhaps it was his brief obsession with asking her out back in high school, or the fact that he’d been the main perpetrator in Sev being bullied. But she immensely disliked talking to or being around him either way, so it didn’t really matter.

She rejoined Eliza – Mary was off somewhere with her toy of the night, this time Hestia Jones – and thankfully managed to avoid all the Marauders for the rest of the party.

She even managed to enjoy herself, drinking a fair bit, dancing, playing a couple games and giving her number to a cute guy who might actually help her get over Eff.

All in all not a half bad night. She’d gone to worse parties.

She found herself back in Godric’s Hollow the two evenings later, listening to Marshmello on her headphones, sipping a Frappuccino (bitter, obviously) and finishing editing her assignment in Trade Relations.

“Lily,” Albus called. She looked up enquiringly, slipping her headphones down her neck. “A note from your Effermont.”

The whole world lit up from its previously dull colours. She eagerly took the folded paper from the barista, reading the scrawled message. Eff had a weird handwriting: it was like he’d been taught calligraphy, but didn’t have the time or the bother to either use it properly or disregard it completely.

It was charming. She loved it.

You will find your letter at the following place: 1. Dog Walkers for Hire 2. Home Repair 3. Symphony Orchestra

Lily closed her laptop and packed her things hurriedly, eagerness swimming through her. She’d figured out the place easily, and rushed to the intersection, grabbing the letter (with a laugh at the fact that a Congrats! Sticker was stamped on the envelope) and walked back to the flat, pulling her shawl tighter around herself.

God, she hated the cold.

 Eff was as irascibly cheerful as ever.

To the Prettiest Flower in Existence, started the letter, making Lily blush delightedly.

It is I, your beloved Eff! I hope you haven’t missed me too much. It took a while to set up the hunt and write down everything I wanted to do. My mum goes crazy for Christmas. She’s hired all these decorators for the manor, and I can just hear you say ‘toff’! (If I knew what your voice sounded like, of course). So my very annoying best friend/brother and I had to clear off for a bit, and then my other friend had this episode with his illness and. . .

Well, anyway, I was busy. And things are all fine now. Mum isn’t going any less crazy, sadly, but the rest of it’s sorted.

To answer your questions: Honestly, I’m not sure what name I’d like. My dad and mum have these really ridiculous names, you’d laugh if you ever heard them. Seriously. And my best friends too. So I think I’d either want some stupidly fancy thing to match them (not likely) – like Theodore, or Romulus, or Perseus, or Octavius or Septimus. More likely some nice, common name like mine. So. . . Tom maybe. Tom sounds nice. Or Alastair. That’s a cool name too. Daniel. Sam. Alex. Noah. Henry, like my granddad. And I would love to be a Finnick, obviously. After my favourite character, even if it would invite jokes about being too finicky.

Honestly, it’s impossible to choose! Just like you to give these weird philosophical questions, Flower. I had to ask my parents why they chose the name James and all that, so points for giving me a chance to learn some family history plus some terrible details of their sex life I never wanted to know.

As for the second one, an owl. Hands down. I don’t need a dog, because my best friend/brother is practically one, minus the obedience part. An owl just sounds really amazing. Nocturnal animal, for one. It could keep me company on my night study sessions. Did you know they can rotate their necks upto 270 degrees?? And that they have asymmetrical ears? Plus they could be like carrier pigeons! Delivery owls! I’d train them. In fact, I want to be an owl trainer when I grow up. Forget my Psychology and Philosophy degree.

You’ve probably gathered from some of the other comments that I made up with mum. You were right. Naturally. You’re probably always right, and just incredible like that. I was a bit hesitant about making the first apology (my pride yada yada, psychoanalyzing and all) but your letter convinced me, so. . . Thanks for that, Flower. You’re the best.

I have heard of Cokeworth, actually. It’s where The Unattainable Angel is from, which is such a coincidence! Do you think you might know one another? You’re both about the same age – mine – and I gather it’s a fairly small town so you must, yeah?

I am extremely offended at your disparaging winter, Flower. My favourite season! I’m sorry, we’re over. I can’t write to someone who hates something so meaningful to me. I’m a snow artist! It’s a bit weird, isn’t it, that we’re writing to one another? Months after your first generic letter for your project? You dislike sweet stuff, I love it. You hate winter, and the winter is literally my livelihood. You ship Everlark, I ship Everthorne. BTW, you’re wrong about that. Like, so wrong. Attached is a list of reasons Everthorne would work. I love Katniss and Gale together!

Attached is also a story I wrote for you. Feel honoured, Flower. I don’t do this for just anybody. Also, don’t come at me when you find that it’s absolutely awful. I know. Like you said, I’m not a writer. I’m an artist. A SNOW artist, so deal with it. Winter’s the best. Winter is already here, and that is AMAZING.

Speaking as an artist, I can assure you, pink does not look terrible on all redheads. The Unattainable Angel is a redhead, and she would look pretty in a garbage bag, so I refute your assertion. I bet you look good in pink too.

In order to prove that, I, the stunning snow artist that I am, will be making a sculpture of The Unattainable Angel in pink! It’s a commission I got last week, for this business party in a garden in the suburbs. It’s some fundraiser, sort of, plus networking – don’t ask me. My dad does this kind of stuff for his business, and it all goes way over my head. Who holds something like this in a garden though? And wants an ice sculpture for it? Especially one of a girl? I contemplated not doing it, especially because I don’t want her stared at by perverts, but she agreed, and she’s a model, so she’s probably used to it. . .

She’s so great. And so incredibly gorgeous. I can’t wait to get sculpting! It’ll turn out beautiful, I’m sure. Anything would, with her as model.

Ouch about your sister, though. I can’t believe she said that. I’m sorry your relationship has soured so much. My best friend/adopted brother is the worst and most annoying person on the planet, but I can’t imagine my life or myself without him. I’m sorry you’ve lost that closeness. I’m sure it must be hard.

The Unattainable Angel is as, well, unattainable as ever. She really, really hates me. So nothing new on that front, except I actually managed words to ask her if she can be my model for the sculpture, to prove something to you and for the commission – the first more than the second ;)

Trust me, you don’t want to know about my friends. Really. Like I said, my chronically ill friend had an episode, but he’s fine now. But really. My brother and our other friend did this so stupid thing yesterday. . . It involved flag poles. And jumping off buildings. They may have been a tad drunk.

They must have been – either that, or clinically insane. And my mum still didn’t scold him! She’s definitely playing favourites. And I am not pouting about it. Also, I am so not a Mama’s boy, Flower! You take that back!

My studies are going well. I got an A on that test I wrote to you about being nervous about, so that’s a relief. It’s so weird to think we’re already well into our second year. It feels like I’m still at high school sometimes. The general stupidity of the population doesn’t change no matter where you are, I’m sure you would say. But still.

Yeeees, soon we’ll bring you onto the dark side Flower! Soon you’ll be consuming the sugariest and sweetest stuff known to mankind and loving it! In all seriousness, glad you liked the rec! I’m going to suggest white chocolate peppermint tea now. It’s a Godric’s special. It’s pretty sweet, but I think you’ll like it. Or maybe not. Try it and tell me!

I absolutely want to know the leash story! Tell me, tell me, tell me! Pretty please with a cherry on top? I’m sending you puppy eyes right now. I wish you could see. My mum tells me my puppy dog begging eyes are absolutely lethal. I bet you’d cave in an instant. I wish we could meet in person. I know you don’t want to – just an idle wish.

Also, wow. Those stories are hilarious. Not as stupidly embarrassing as ones my mum insists on telling though. She brings out the baby album every. time. somebody visits. It’s so stupid! And my brother is no help, he just keeps laughing, especially because there aren’t any baby photos of him.

I bet you looked cute with your bob cut, though. How old were you then? The thought that people might be watching us in some reality show is pretty scary. Thanks for the nightmares, Flower.

Continuing the game: Tell me your favourite traditions for a holiday. Any holiday. And if you could have any three books survive the apocalypse with you, which would they be?

I want you to write down five things you even slightly like about the winter. As a snow artist, I demand that my pen pal/closest female friend like at least something about it. If you could send me that piano recording (which wasn’t that bad by the way) you can do this. For me? With puppy dog eyes again.

Lots of love,

Effermont.

Lily was smiling instinctively as she read through the letter, already composing a reply inside her head. She couldn’t help it. Eff was so effortlessly cheerfully charming. God, she was so hopelessly in love with him. Even as he pined after The Unattainable Angel. Who sounded like a bitch who had no idea what she had.

Lily sighed and tried to let go of that misplaced anger. She just wished she could have Eff like her. He did seem like he was flirting sometimes. It got her hopes up when they oughtn’t.

Maybe Mary was right. Maybe this was bad for her.

But at the same time – she couldn’t stomach the thought of this stopping. Of never receiving a letter from him again. Of never laughing at his random thoughts and smiley faces. Of never feeling that despairing love again.

There was no good choice.

She let her chin drop onto her palm as she scanned the letter again idly, stopping at the places where he complimented her, blushing and feeling nerves stir in her stomach. Stopping where he described his latest commission, she frowned.

That sounded familiar. Lily thought about it, putting the letter and the attached papers away for later reading and replying. A networking event. Garden. In the suburbs. Ice. . . Then it clicked.

Marlene’s mum’s company was having a gala in the garden just outside her house. A semi-informal one. Marley had talked to her about the ice statue of a girl they’d ordered for it. Someone in the family had been commissioned.

Lily’s heart skipped a beat. Someone in Marley’s family could be Eff. The thought was almost dangerous. She’d met her friend’s immediate family a couple times. Her mind was immediately racing: she had two brothers. And multiple male cousins. One of them. . .

But would knowing be a good thing? Did she want to know who Eff really was?

Yes, her traitorous heart replied. Of course she wanted to know whom she was in love with.

But the more sensible part of her protested. She already liked him enough. Knowing his true identity, seeing him around the Hogwarts campus – that might literally shatter her. She didn’t know if she could handle it.

But Lily was impulsive, reckless. It was somethine Tuney and Sev had derided her for multiple times. It was part of who she was. She took out her phone and shot a message to Marlene, asking if she could come to her mum’s party, on account of being a law student and networking.

It wasn’t a lie. Meeting influential people would be useful.

But she knew her main reason for asking. And it was purely personal.

The party was nice – a much classier affair than the high school and college parties she’d been to, thankfully. She chatted with several people, made nice and got business cards, all the while looking for an ice sculpture of a girl, heart thumping.

“Lily!” Marlene called. “Hey, crazy coincidence you’re here.”

“Why is that?” She asked, putting her glass of wine down and making her way to her friend.

Marley pointed vaguely in the direction behind her. “This ice statue— it’s of a girl, and—”

Lily didn’t bother listening further, turning and making her way in that direction. Then she saw the statue, and came to a standstill.

It was her. It was her, in pink clothes, just as Eff had promised. It was her right down to the curves of her hair and the green in her eyes and the smile on her face.

Eff had used her as the model for his commission.

She was The Unattainable Angel.

Her mind went blank. Her whole body felt numb, and not from the cold. Her hands were trembling.

Eff was in love with her. He was every bit in love with her as she was with him, judging by his letters.

She had to—she had to find him. She had to tell him. She had to move. She had to do something.

But what?

Dear Eff,

I saw the statue you made for the McKinnon Offices’ Business Party. I know her. I want to meet. I think I can help you finally attain The Unattainable Angel.

Love,

Flower

To the Flower of Utter Amazingness,

You want to meet??! Like, seriously?? Tell me this isn’t a joke, Flower. I’ve wanted this for ages.

I can’t believe you saw the statue.

So you do know Evans, huh. Small world.

Godric’s Hollow? The table where you left your first letter? 5 pm on Monday?

Lots and lots of love,

Effermont

Dear Eff,

Smaller than you might think, actually.

I’ll see you there.

Lots of love,

Flower

Lily was dying of anticipation.

She wasn’t one to tend to hyperbole like that – but this was an extraordinary situation. She was about to meet the man she was head-over-heels in love with. She felt that deserved some exaggeration.

It was four fifty-five on Monday. Lily had her book bag swung over her shoulder, too wrecked with nerves to go back to her apartment post classes.

She was going to meet Eff!

She. Was. Going. To. Meet. Her. Pen-Pal.

It still wouldn’t quite sink in.

She sat on a bench across the road from the café, with the table they were supposed to meet at well within view. She wasn’t willing to be seen as – well, desperate, and reach first, and she wanted to have a chance to assess after she was blindsided by information.

Lily liked to be in control of things.

It was why she found herself so extremely annoyed when James Potter of all people sat in at the table, moments after she’d taken her own seat. Why did he have to pick now to come to Godric’s? And that particular seat?

Eff would come soon and ask him to move away, she thought hopefully. She kept a keen eye out for anyone approaching that particular table, but no one did.

Bitterness welled deep in her twenty minutes into the wait. She couldn’t believe Eff had stood her up like this. It was ridiculous. He’d seemed so excited in his letter. Even Albus had chuckled to her about it. Had something gone wrong on his side? Was he perhaps waiting, not wanting to eject someone from their seat?

Nah. He was too arrogant for that.

Impulsively, she stood and made her way to that table. Maybe there was a note? Another letter?

“Evans!” Potter – squeaked, flailing about undignifiedly. He was always so odd around her. She despised him, but he seemed to waver between awkward and sleazy around her. Which was a pity. He wasn’t bad looking and Mary kept insisting he’d grown up since high school.

Lily didn’t really see how bullies grew up.

“Potter.” she said shortly.

“Did you, uh, want the table?” Potter stood up quickly, hands in his pockets. She could understand that. Lily hated sitting when someone was looming over her. She opened her mouth to tell him to keep the table when: “I was just waiting for someone—”

Dread encapsulated her. Dots which she really didn’t need at that moment connected. “Who?” She asked urgently.

He blinked at her. “Who?” She asked again, impatient and nervous and scared and excited and disgusted and anxious and apprehensive all at once.

“Just a, er, friend— we’ve never met before so this was the meeting place we decided – but she’s late—”

“A pen-pal?” She asked quietly. “Eff?”

Wonder took over his face. He smiled blindingly, hand lifting as though to touch her face before he put it down. “Flower?” He said quietly.

They stared at one another for a moment.

“I can’t believe it’s you—” He laughed lightly.

James Potter. James Potter. The one who’d tugged on her pigtails and dumped paint all over her and teased her about her drawing and told her she was beautiful and amazing and relentlessly persecuted Sev and partnered with her for a Science Project and won the lacrosse championship for their school.

James Potter.

Was Eff. Effermont. Who was always cheerful, had ready jokes, was arrogantly charming, a shoulder for her to cry on, and was the one person she trusted and relied on most.

Whom she was in love with.

Feeling suffocated and trapped all of a sudden, she turned. “I can’t either,” she snapped curtly, walking briskly outside.

“Hey, Evans? What – where are you – Flower!”

Ignoring the urge to stop at the final call, she jogged back home, burying the need to cry deep inside.

“I. . . Don’t get it, Lils.” Mary said, frowning. “So the pen-pal you were head-over-heels for turns out to be a guy with a great bod and an even better brain? What’s to whine about?”

Lily stared at her best friend disbelievingly. “You don’t get it? Mare! It’s James Potter! I’m in love with James Potter!”

“Yeah. So?”

“It’s. . .” Lily couldn’t help it; she got up and began to pace. “It’s so. . . Confusing, I guess. I mean. I didn’t like Potter. I still don’t like him, frankly.”

“Oh, not this again,” Mary groaned. “Come on, Lily. Haven’t you been dragging this high school feud long enough?”

“He was an asshole!” Lily raged. “He bullied Sev!”

“Who gave back every bit he got,” she pointed out. “Look, I’m not saying Potter was right to do it, ganging up on Snape and doing all those awful things to him. It was terrible. It was wrong. But. . . It was years ago. You got to know Potter in a completely new, objective way. And you fell in love with him. Doesn’t that say something?”

Lily scowled, turning away from her friend. It did. It said several things.

It wasn’t as though she’d only hated Potter, even back then in high school. He’d asked her out repetitively during that one phase. He’d managed to cheer her up with his dumb jokes more than one time. He’d been an excellent partner for that one project they’d been paired up for. He’d been the only one who could keep up with her in the Debate Team – they’d used to argue until they were breathless, chests heaving.

Knowing Potter had been exhilarating even then. He was a constantly tempestuous ride, and she’d never known which side she was about to get – awkward Potter who couldn’t string together a sentence around her, the coolly confident one who teased and argued with her, the passionate jock she’d cheer on in the field, the bullying toerag who got off on the misery of others.

He was a dichotomy. Always.

But she’d never once gotten that vibe from Eff. Could he be arrogant, condescending, disregarding of others’ feelings occasionally and accidentally? Sure. But he was a good man at heart. Lily wouldn’t have set up a meeting if she didn’t believe that.

But Eff being James Potter. . .

And she was The Unattainable Angel. She, Lily Evans! She couldn’t believe it. And she couldn’t deny that thought made her heart flutter in a way it hadn’t in years.

Her mind made the decision quickly. “Okay. Yes. You’re right.” Her heart was pounding.

“I cannot believe you said that!” Mary cheered. “The Best To-Be Lawyer and Judge in the world said I’m right! Woohoo! Where’s my phone, I need to record this.”

“Shut up.” Lily rolled her eyes, ducking her head at the compliments. “But. . . I don’t have his number. What do I do? What if he hates me? What if—”

“Lil. Chill. That guy isn’t capable of hating you,” Mary said reassuringly. “And you have his best mate’s number. Call Lupin. Ask him to . . . I don’t know, connect you with Potter.”

“Okay,” Lily breathed, rubbing at her chest. “Okay. Thanks, Mare. You’re the best.”

“I know.” Her friend smiled smugly. “Go get him, girl!”

Hey, she texted Remus.

Hey, came a text back, only five minutes later. What’s up?

Can you send me Potter’s number? She asked without preamble.

There were the three dots, indicating he was typing. Then they disappeared. And reappeared.

You really hurt him, Lily, was the final message.

She stared at it. Tapped on the screen while she figured out her reply.

I know. I want to make up for it.

There. She thought that conveyed the sentiment, even though the phrasing was awkward and not her best. She just. . . Really couldn’t think about anything. Love had that effect.

There was no reply in words – just a number. Heart pounding, she sent him a thank you before saving Potter’s number in her mobile and starting to message him.

She went through several drafts in her head before she decided he would appreciate casualness the best.

Hi, Eff, she sent. I’m so sorry about today. Do over?

As Her Floweriness commands, was the reply, setting her at ease the way only he could do. The main fountain on the school campus okay with you, Evans? Tomorrow evening, 7:00?

Absolutely. See you then, Potter.

No running away this time?

Definitely not.

And it was done. Lily rolled over in her bed, grabbing her pen and journal, an idea striking her.

There was no better way.

She sat on the fountain, watching the water spring from the funnel, tired and excited and scared. Snow fell around her, landing softly. It was only fair, Lily supposed, that she be the one to wait this time. Still. It wasn’t easy.

“Evans,” someone breathed, and Lily spun around hastily, nearly tripping into the water. He caught her, one hand around her waist and the other grabbing hers. “Easy there.”

She froze, tingling sensations spreading from the place his hands touched. She wanted to stay there forever. She wanted to rip herself away. She turned to him slowly. “Potter.”

He let go of her, stuffing his hands in his pockets, the corners of his eyes crinkling. She felt oddly bereft.

“I, um—”

“Maybe we should—”

They paused, having started speaking at the same time. Lily cleared her throat. “I. Wrote this for you.” She thrust her letter at him.

He blinked at it. “Wow.” Why didn’t he take it? Did he hate her? Did he not want it? Did he have some other idea of how this was going to go? Was he— “That’s weird. I wrote a letter for you too.” He took something out of his pocket: an envelope.

They stared at one another. She couldn’t believe they’d had the same idea. It was ridiculous. Connecting. Soulmating, if she believed in those crap romance novels Eliza liked to read. Hand trembling, she reached out to take his. They exchanged envelopes.

Lily tore her eyes from his face to the letter in her hands.

Lily-Flower,

Thanks for running away, Evans. I really needed that. Real nice of you—

Sorry about that. Just. . . Got a bit angry.

Hey, Flower. I can’t believe you’re Lily Evans. The girl I’ve been pining over like an idiot since high school. Yes, you can gasp in shock and recoil in disgust. Doesn’t change the fact that I’ve got a massive crush on you.

No. That doesn’t sum it up.

I am absolutely, utterly, horrendously in love with you.

I don’t have the way with words you do. So. . . I’m not sure how. . . I guess I was halfway there even with my friend and pen-pal Flower. Padfoot, Moony and Wormtail always used to get these looks on their faces whenever I told them about the letters. But I was too hung up on you, Evans. You were. Well. You were The Unattainable Angel after all.

First and foremost, you’re my friend. And you don’t have to be. If you never want to see me again, call quits on the letters, that’s fine. I just hope you read this. One last letter from Effermont to Flower, eh?

I guess I can tell you why I picked that name now. My mum’s name is Euphemia. And you know my dad’s name is Fleamont. It was a kind of combination of their names. Plus, it sounds a bit like effeminate – which, I know is sometimes used as a slur, but you thought I was a girl when we first began writing. It was a joke.

A mean one. I know. I thought a lot about why you ran away like that. I was angry. Hurt. Still am, honestly. But I guess I can understand. I know you, Flower. I know you pretty well. So I can understand you running away to deal with your emotions.

I just hope you don’t mind this contact.

I haven’t. . . Always been the best person. I know that. And I don’t think I would have liked the person I would have turned out to be if I had continued like that. It’s. Hard. I was always arrogant, entitled, and jealous and bullying. . . And. It’s hard to describe.

And I know you hated me back then in high school, especially when I asked you out – which was all serious, by the way. I know you thought that me making a production of it was because it was a joke. It wasn’t.

Your hating me’s your prerogative, obviously.

I suppose I understand reconciling your friend with someone you loathe is hard.

Anyway. I’m just writing this to say. . . It’s okay. Whatever you want to do.

And I am still as in love with you as ever, Lily Evans. I didn’t need you to sing in the assembly like Peeta did (I hope you appreciate me making an Everlark reference). I just am. Have been for ages. Seems, at this point, like I always will be.

Yours,

Eff James Potter

Lily swallowed. She lowered the letter, looking at Potter. His face was intent, hopeful, wary. He was obviously done with her letter, folding it over and over in his hands.

“Since high school?” She whispered. “All those times. . . You were serious?”

He huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, Lily. I really, really was.”

He was calling her Lily now, she noticed vaguely. “You said whatever I want to do, you’re okay with it,” she said.

A flash of uncertainty. “Yeah. ‘Course. I meant that. Still do.” he assured her.

“And you don’t understand from my letter what that would be?” She asked, tone slightly teasing.

“Weeeeeell. . .” He dragged out the word, smirking a lopsided grin that made him very attractive. “You could stand to be a bit clearer.”

“Okay,” she said softly, walking closer to him. She could see the way snow fell on his head, the way the droplets clung to his lashes. The way his eyes, the golden flecks in the hazel, softened when they landed on her. “I am ardently, steadfastly, horrendously in love with you, Eff. James Potter.”

And she leaned up and kissed him.

He gasped, still for a moment, before kissing back. The pressure was electric. It was comforting. It was warmth, in the snowy winter around them. His arm came up against her back, lightly pressing, supporting. Her hands trailed up to his shoulders.

They parted, saying nothing for a long moment, staring at one another softly. James cleared his throat. “You’ve – got some snow here,” he patted it off her shoulder gently, letting his hand linger, his thumb brushing her collarbone.

She shivered, not entirely due to the cold. “Ugh. I hate snow.” She complained, still lightheaded from the kissing. “I loathe the winter.”

He smiled, a small quirk of his lips. “Yeah, I know.” He took her hand bringing it up to his lips. “Not only bad things happen in winter, though.”

She felt her own face light up in response, curling her hand with his, interlocking their fingers. “I suppose not.” Lily replied. “You still can’t say anything good about the snow though.”

“She says to the snow artist. . .”

And they bickered, walking hand-in-hand through the snow.

[kurokoros]

thicc | kuroo

Rated: M

Words: 9.2K

Pairing: kuroo x fem!reader

Summary: Kuroo has nice thighs. Unfortunately, you aren’t the only one who notices.

AN: A belated birthday gift for @whats-her-quirk​. Happy (late) birthday, June <3 Have some smut! I’m sorry it’s stupidly long! Also, I’m sorry for any glaring mistakes, I didn’t edit this asdfghjkl

Warnings: smut, jealousy thigh riding, spanking, mild choking, dirty talk (praise and degradation), wall sex, unprotected sex

If you had to pick your favorite thing about volleyball it would be the players. Well, one player in particular. It’s always hard for you to keep your eyes of Kuroo when he plays, your gaze always drifting back to him even when you should be following the ball. More specifically, it’s always hard for you to keep your eyes off his thighs in those sinfully short shorts.

And the practice match tonight is no different, your eyes glued to Kuroo’s legs as he jumps to block a spike, his muscles tensing as he moves, sweat dripping down his skin.

Thank god you let Akaashi drag you with him to the match tonight. Your plan was originally to stay home and study, but Bokuto had whined and begged until Akaashi agreed to watch the match, and somehow you were roped into coming as well. Earlier, you were a little irritated about being dragged out on your one night off, but now you definitely aren’t complaining.

“You’re drooling,” Akaashi tells you. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that he’s smirking.

Reluctant to take your eyes off Kuroo, you jab him with your elbow. “Shut up, Keiji,” you snap, blatantly staring at Kuroo as he lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. Chancing a glance at your friend, you see him doing the same to Bokuto. “Like you’re any better.”

Akaashi has the decency to pretend like he wasn’t just ogling his boyfriend’s glistening abs, but you have zero shame in staring.

Like he can feel your eyes on him, Kuroo looks up at you in the stands. His expression brightens, and he smirks, sending you a wink before turning back to the game. And fuck if that’s not the sexiest thing you’ve seen all day. You can’t wait to wipe that stupid smirk off his face tonight when you—

A loud whine drags you from your daydream, your gaze snapping away from Kuroo only to land on a pouting Yukie. With another whine, she drops her head onto your shoulder, the sound muffled by the too large jacket wrapped around you. Raising an eyebrow, you glance at Kaori over Yukie’s head, but the other girl only sighs. On your other side, Akaashi leans forward enough to look at Yukie as well.

Before you can ask her what’s wrong, Yukie’s arms slide around your waist. She pulls her face from your arm and props her chin against your shoulder, a heavy, dramatic sigh falling from her mouth. “Ugh,” she groans, looking at you and Akaashi, who only blinks back at her, “you two are so lucky to have such hot boyfriends.”

You almost choke on your spit when her words register. Behind her, Kaori looks absolutely scandalized, her eyes wide with horror. You’re barely able to smother your laughter when you catch a glimpse of Akaashi’s bewildered expression.

He blinks at Yukie again, mouth opening and then closing just as quickly before he finally settles on a confused, “Thank you.”

Yukie nods, her gaze sliding back to the volleyball game going on below. She hums in thought as she watches the ball move, eyes latching onto a familiar player. “Bokuto is thick,” she continues suddenly, rambling to herself. “Thick. With two Cs. Like, damn, look at him next to Oikawa’s pancake ass and tell me that that—what do the kids say, cake?—isn’t the nicest thing you’ve ever seen. Not that Oikawa isn’t hot too, but you know how I like a nice ass.”

You’re trying not to wheeze at this point, your shoulders shaking with barely muffled giggles as Yukie’s attention shifts to Oikawa’s flat ass. Next to you, Akaashi looks like he’d rather be literally anywhere else, and you knock your shoulder against his. His exasperated expression only makes you laugh harder.

Of course, that’s when Yukie turns her attention to your boyfriend.

“Oooh, and don’t get me started on Kuroo. Those are some pretty damn delicious arms. And his thighs! God, he could crush me with those and I’d say thanks.” Your laughter cuts off abruptly, your shoulder stiff beneath Yukie’s chin as her eyes wander over Kuroo slowly, watching as he jumps to successfully block a spike. She hums appreciatively, and you bristle immediately, a sick feeling swirling in the pit of your stomach the longer she looks at him. “They aren’t as beefy as Daichi’s, but Kuroo can—”

Kaori slaps a hand over Yukie’s mouth before she can continue. “Okay, that’s enough out of you,” she says, trying to pull your whining friend off of you while sharing a look with Akaashi.

Yukie only clings to you tighter, arms squeezing around your torso. “What, I’m single! I can look at anyone I want. I just can’t touch, pinch, or lick. It’s not my fault every guy we know is stupidly hot and taken.” Yukie stops suddenly, patting your thigh almost comfortingly. “Congratulations on scoring a hot piece of ass by the way.”

The possessiveness that flares in your chest is shoved back down as you remind yourself that this is Yukie. Your friend. She’s just being ridiculously thirsty as usual. It’s not a big deal. Nope. Not at all.

“Don’t you have a thing with Konoha?” you ask, desperate to change the subject from the aforementioned hot piece of ass that you’re dating. From what you remember from your last girl’s night, Yukie had gone on a handful of dates with the former Fukurodani player and things were going pretty well.

The question only makes Yukie’s expression darken. Her lazy grin disappears, replaced with narrowed eyes and a pout. “He doesn’t seem to think so,” she says, tone dripping with venom that makes your eyes widen. Before you can ask what she means, her mood shifts again. Yukie’s eyes brighten. She throws her arms up, yelling in excitement as the team scores a point.

You lean around her to look at Kaori, bemusement slowly turning to realization. “Is she drunk?”

A tired nod is all the response you need. “Very. She got into the wine while I was in class this afternoon. Apparently Konoha went out with another girl the other night? I’m not sure.”

Yeah, that’ll do it. “Of course, she did.” You settle back in your seat and allow Yukie to lean against your shoulder once more, only half listening to her rambling on about the game and the hot players on both teams. Now that you’re aware of it, you can hear the slight slur in the way she’s talking. That makes you feel a little bit better about her talking so openly about Kuroo. Just a little.

Jealousy is a bitch.

You almost forget about what Yukie said by the time the game is done. Almost. The players are just finishing cleaning up and gathering their things, and you, Akaashi, Kaori, and an intoxicated Yukie are waiting just outside the gym, chatting quietly as you wait for your friends to come out.

It isn’t long before the door to the locker room slams open, cutting Kaori off mid-sentence as the boys leave the gym. Footsteps pound against the floor. You look up just in time to watch Bokuto launch himself through the air and nearly tackle Akaashi to the floor, three inches taller and nearly thirty pounds heavier. Akaashi grunts in surprise, barely able to hold himself up as Bokuto’s arms and legs wrap around him. A noisy kiss is pressed against Akaashi’s cheek, but your attention is already somewhere else.

There’s a stupid grin spreading across your face as soon as you see Kuroo coming down the hallway flanked by Oikawa and Daichi, the three deep in conversation. Even from here you can see Kuroo’s eyes rolling, and you figure they’re talking about Bokuto’s frankly exhausting amount of energy post-game.

You consider calling out to him, but decide to take another second to stare at him instead. It’s unfair how good he looks after a workout, and you might as well enjoy it before he gets the chance to tease you for ogling him.

Yukie isn’t nearly as tactful. “Kuroo!” she calls across the room, waving her arms to get his attention. She nearly smacks you across the face with her flailing, giggling when you nearly drop her in surprise. Kaori hurriedly grabs Yukie as the drunk girl starts to slip from your grasp, and behind you Akaashi is still being smothered in Bokuto’s affections despite his complaints about sweat and PDA.

Kuroo’s head snaps up at the sound of his name, attention turning from Oikawa to Yukie, then to you. A grin immediately makes its way onto his face, his expression lighting up when he sees you. Oikawa says something that makes Kuroo shove him, and one of their other teammates laughs. Waving them off, Kuroo shrugs his bag higher on his shoulder, quickly making his way over to you. A mischievous smile tugs at his lips, and you know he’s just waiting to wrap you up in a bear hug and soak in some much-needed attention.

He’s halfway across the room when Yukie stops giggling long enough to shout, “Nice thighs!”

Kuroo’s steps falter, his eyes wide.

This time, you do drop Yukie. Kaori yelps at the extra weight, not expecting you to let go so suddenly and leave her as the only thing keeping Yukie from falling on her face. Yukie only starts giggling even harder, and you can hear Bokuto snickering as well from where he’s still wrapped around Akaashi.

It takes Kuroo a second to regain his bearings, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly as Oikawa laughs obnoxiously. Daichi at least has the decency to pretend he isn’t laughing as Kuroo calls back a confused “Thanks?” Shaking his head, Kuroo’s gaze returns to you, but you’re busy staring at Yukie.

Like before, there’s a sick feeling swirling around in your stomach. You know exactly what it is and force down the bitter, jealous, possessiveness that rises in your throat. It’s a feeling that you hate, but sometimes it’s hard to brush aside, no matter how much you trust Kuroo and no matter how obvious it is that Yukie is just being herself, albeit significantly more intoxicated.

By the time your attention snaps away from Yukie, the boys are closer. Oikawa is still snickering at your boyfriend’s expense, much to Kuroo’s annoyance. The two are exchanging quips, but Kuroo only has eyes for you.

Unfortunately, Yukie is still giggling and swaying next to you, you’re still more jealous than you’d ever admit out loud, and Daichi just happens to be the closest.

It’s almost an unspoken rule that Kuroo is always the first player you congratulate on a game. Usually, he has you wrapped up in a tight embrace as soon as he sees you, strong arms lifting you straight off the ground in his excitement. Just like Bokuto with Akaashi.

So, when Daichi goes to slip around you and help Kaori with Yukie, it comes as a surprise to everyone when you stop him with a light touch on the bare part of his upper arm. “Good game!” is all that you say to him, sending him a smile before letting go just as quickly once he nods, grateful, albeit confused.

You don’t notice the look that Bokuto and Akaashi share behind you.

Kuroo doesn’t look bothered at all by your brief interaction with Daichi, and somehow that makes you feel even worse. Lean arms wrap around your waist and tug you against a firm chest. Warm, slightly chapped lips press a gentle kiss to your temple. “You ready to go home, baby?” he murmurs against your ear.

One of his hands traces the length of your spine until he’s cupping the back of your neck, thumb sweeping across your skin.

Leaning into him, you tilt your head back to meet his eyes. “Yeah.” You wrap your own arms around him, holding on just as tight. “Good game.”

You’ve only been at Kuroo’s apartment for thirty minutes and you’re already about two seconds away from throwing something at Akaashi. With your volleyball player boyfriends wanting to clean up post-game, you’ve been alone with your best friend since Kuroo pressed a sloppy kiss to your forehead before racing Bokuto to the bathroom, only narrowly beating the other man—who sat outside the door sulking until Kuroo was done.

Normally, you wouldn’t mind the situation, but you can already tell that Akaashi has something he wants to say, and it’s a conversation that you really don’t want to have tonight.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you don’t dare look at him, all but feeling his stare burning into the side of your face as you stir a spoonful of honey into your tea and watch it dissolve. It’s too quiet in the kitchen. The clinking of your spoon against the side of your mug is too loud, and even Bokuto’s muffled, tone-deaf singing coming from the bathroom down the hall doesn’t lighten the mood. Nose wrinkling, you stop stirring your tea. An irritated sigh slips from your mouth.

He’s still staring, leaning against the counter across from you. Ignoring Akaashi is proving to be more difficult than you initially anticipated. You’re painfully aware of his presence. He’s scrutinizing you, brows furrowed in thought, and you know as soon as you look at him, he’ll know exactly what you’re thinking.

“So,” he starts casually—too casually—eyeing you over the rim of his mug, “are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

You consider flat out ignoring him, but decide that’s too mean. “Isn’t it too late for you to be interrogating me, Keiji?” you ask, propping your chin against one hand as you finally look at him.

He raises an eyebrow at your word choice. “Who said anything about interrogating you?”

“I’m not upset,” you tell him, you know, like a liar. “I’m just tired. It’s getting late.” Another lie. It’s barely ten. Usually on nights when you stay over, you and Kuroo are up late watching movies or fooling around in his room.

“Okay,” he says, dropping it immediately, much to your surprise. He doesn’t look at you as he grabs his tea off the counter. The mug makes it halfway to his mouth before Akaashi sets it back down with a sigh. “Actually, no. I’m not humoring you tonight.” The look he sends you is stern. “It’s okay for you to be upset about what Yukie said, but it’s not fair to—”

Before he can really start to lecture you, he’s cut off by an enthusiastic blur of blue and gray nearly lunging over the counter to tackle him in a hug. “Keiji!” Bokuto croons, face buried in his boyfriend’s neck.

Akaashi grunts as the wind is knocked out of him, Bokuto giving him a tight squeeze around the middle. “Kou, don’t be so loud,” he chastises, but doesn’t shove Bokuto away. With a sigh, he allows himself to be kissed on the cheek and cuddled, casual indifference broken by a secretive, fond smile.

You consider teasing him, but decide against it, content to let them be.

A moment later, long arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you against a firm chest as lips press against your temple, then your cheek. “Hey, kitten,” Kuroo murmurs, voice muffled as he leans down to kiss the side of your neck. His messy hair tickles your cheek, still damp from his shower, and you automatically relax as the familiar scent of his shampoo tickles your nose. Another kiss is placed just below your jaw, where he can feel your pulse jump under his touch. His lips curl into a smile that you know only means trouble, and you shudder as Kuroo’s fingers inch beneath the hem of your shirt.

Akaashi rolls his eyes at Kuroo’s PDA, and Bokuto wiggles his eyebrows. They’re both used to your boyfriend being a sexual menace by now. He’s like this more often than not after a game. The adrenalin makes him grabby.

Your breath hitches as Kuroo’s hands get a little bolder, “Behave,” you tell him, but don’t try to stop him. He won’t get too handsy with Bokuto and Akaashi right across the counter. And, honestly, after what happened earlier, you’re just as needy as he is right now.

His smirk widens. “You like me better when I don’t.” A sneaky hand snakes around your hips to pinch your ass and you squeal.

You reach around to smack his shoulder as he cackles. “Tetsurou!”

He backs off but doesn’t let you go completely, arms moving back to your waist and wrapping around you tightly. His lips press against the side of your head apologetically, coaxing you to lean back against him, and you roll your eyes as you feel him shake with barely muffled laughter. Abandoning your tea on the counter, you place your hands on his arms.

That seems to placate him for the time being. At least, enough for him to turn his attention to your friends across the counter. Kuroo makes himself comfortable behind you, subtly resting more of his weight against your back as he and Bokuto begin to bicker about another practice match they have later this week.

With his boyfriend momentarily distracted, Akaashi goes back to observing you from across the counter, which you purposely ignore, instead focusing on Bokuto’s animated expressions and the gentle rumble of Kuroo’s chest vibrating against your back every time he speaks. Undeterred by your refusal to look at him, Akaashi crosses his arms, staring at you even harder, like somehow he’ll be able to see right through you.

“Do we really have to go to the gym tomorrow?” Kuroo whines. “It’s Saturday, bro, we can take one day off.”

Bokuto gasps, scandalized. “Never skip leg day, Kuroo!” Huffing, he jabs a finger in your boyfriend’s direction. “You want to be dummy thick like Daichi, don’t you?” he asks, much to your amusement. Akaashi looks like he’s in physical pain, and it’s all you can do to keep from cackling right then.

Kuroo’s grip on you tightens just a fraction. The arms that are wrapped around your waist tense, but when you try to look at him, Kuroo tucks you under his chin. His cheek presses against the top of your head. “I think my thighs are thick enough, thanks,” he tells Bokuto dryly. He squeezes your hip when your fingers brush against his forearm, and his tone turns teasing as his attention returns to you. “What do you think, baby?”

The mention of his thighs makes you tense, too. Yukie’s gushing compliments from the game punching straight through your chest and make your stomach twist into knots. And your good mood plummets. There’s a sour taste in the back of your mouth, and you aren’t quick enough to stop a sarcastic quip from slipping out.

“Why don’t you go ask Yukie? I’m sure she’ll tell you how thick they are.” Your tone is clipped, sharp, and you only realize you’ve said it out loud when you feel Kuroo stiffen behind you again, but by then it’s too late.

The tight grip he has on your waist loosens in surprise, Kuroo’s hands falling limply to his sides as he stares down at you in utter bewilderment. “What?” He sounds as hurt as he does confused. The softness of his tone strikes you between your ribs and makes you wince.

Horrified, all you can do is stare at the pair across the counter. Bokuto looks at you, then Kuroo, his eyes wide. Beside him, Akaashi just sighs, sending you a look that’s a clear cross between “you fucked up” and “I tried to tell you”, and for once you can’t even argue with that.

Unsure how to respond to the mess you’ve made, you send Akaashi a pleading look. If anyone can diffuse a situation before it starts, it’s Akaashi. He meets your gaze across the counter, his eyebrows furrowing just the slightest as he looks from you, to Kuroo, and back to you.

“Kou,” Akaashi says suddenly, breaking the tense silence by turning to his boyfriend, “why don’t we go see Konoha tonight? It’s been awhile since we saw him.”

“What?” Bokuto replies, confused, still staring at you and Kuroo owlishly. “Keiji, we just saw him yesterday—oh!” It takes him a second, but then he’s grabbing Akaashi’s hand and all but dragging the other man towards the door. “Right! Let’s go!” Bokuto glances at you and Kuroo over his shoulder, grinning. “You two have fun tonight! But not too much fun, or we won’t get the deposit back on—ouch!” He pouts, rubbing his shoulder where Akaashi smacked him.

“We’ll be back in an hour,” Akaashi says to you. Then, to Kuroo, “Not on the counter, please.”

The insinuation makes your eyes widen, and you shoot Akaashi a nasty look, which he ignores. Talk it out or fuck, is what he doesn’t say out loud, and you tense in anticipation despite the concoction of other emotions swirling in your stomach.

Kuroo makes a low sound in the back of his throat and leans forward again, caging you in as his palms press against the countertop on either side of you. With his chest flush against your back, you can feel how tense he is. “No promises.”

Rolling his eyes, Akaashi grabs his keys out of the bowl by the door and allows Bokuto to pull him out of the apartment. The door closes with more force than necessary, loud slam giving way to silence as soon as you and Kuroo are alone.

Pinned between him and the counter like this, you can feel the heat of his breath puffing against the side of your neck. His fingers flex against the counter top, and your gaze is drawn to the lean muscles of his arms on either side of you.

Yukie’s comments claw at you again, and you grimace. It’s a stupid thing to fixate on. You feel ridiculous for letting it bother you in the first place, and you’re sure Kuroo is confused. Maybe upset. You aren’t usually snappy with him. And Akaashi was right. It’s not fair for you to take your jealousy out on Kuroo.

Sighing, you ready yourself to apologize.

“Are you going to keep acting like a little brat, or are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” His lips brush against your skin as he speaks, touch soft compared to his tone. Your eyes widen as he presses himself up against your back. There isn’t an inch of space left between you. An open-mouthed kiss is placed just below your ear, and you shudder as his teeth graze the side of your neck. When you don’t respond, Kuroo sighs. “I’m not going to ask you again,” he warns you.

Kuroo leans forward, keeping you pinned to the counter as one of his hands drifts back to your waist. The pad of his thumb grazes your hip where your shirt has ridden up, teasing you. Your breath catches. His weight against your back is equal parts comforting and arousing. And Kuroo knows exactly how to touch you, how to turn you into a shivering mess until you’re practically begging for him.

It’s hard not to do exactly that when his breath is fanning over the side of your neck and his fingers are slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. Hot and wet, his lips graze a sensitive spot below your jaw. He doesn’t kiss you, but he’s close, and you feel the slightest twitch of his mouth. You can’t tell if it’s a smile or if your silence is pissing him off. The latter makes your pulse jump, your heart racing.

“Yukie was talking about you at the game,” you finally tell him. It sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud. Petty jealousy. But you can’t help it sometimes. Not when he’s all tousled hair and sly smirks that could drive anyone crazy.

Kuroo pauses. “Oh?” Warm lips place a soft kiss on your neck, and your head falls back against his shoulder, your eyes fluttering shut. An appreciative sound slips from his throat. Another kiss is pressed to your throat, hot and open-mouthed. Shivers run down your spine as his hips rock forward against your ass. “And what was she saying about me?”

His teeth scrape over your skin, just enough for you to feel it, and you jolt. A breathy whine escapes you before you can stop it. Kuroo chuckles, voice deeper than usual, and you try not to squirm as he nips at you, voice a low murmur as he speaks. “Don’t get shy on me now, kitten,” he taunts, “you were so mouthy a minute ago.”

When you take too long to answer, Kuroo’s fingers sneak beneath your shirt to pinch your hip. You yelp, squirming away from his fingers, but that only drives you further back against him. Grunting, Kuroo pins your hips against the counter. Already half-hard, he grinds against your ass lazily. The thin fabric of his sweats does nothing to hide his growing arousal, and warmth rushes through you, liquid heat pooling in your belly.

“Your arms,” you manage to tell him. He acknowledges you with a hum, sound muffled by his teeth and tongue as he continues to tease your neck. “And your thighs.” Your next admission is softer and a little bitter. “She wouldn’t stop staring at you.” A lot of girls stare at him. They always have. It shouldn’t still get to you, not when you’re the one he’s touching like this, hands wandering over your skin and his mouth sucking a bruise onto your neck.

There’s nothing to be jealous of when he’s already yours, and he seems intent on proving that to you.

“Yeah?” Kuroo asks. “Is that why you were trying to make me jealous after the game?” Smugness practically rolls from him in waves. His lips curl into a smirk. “Hmm? Trying to get me all riled up?”

You barely choke out a, “Yes.”

It surprises you when Kuroo’s mouth rips away from your neck. His touch is gone for an agonizing moment before reappearing on your cheek. The kiss he places there is softer this time, sweeter, and it makes your heart swell in your chest as he shifts to whisper in your ear. “You know I’m yours, right?” His hand is pressed against your abdomen now, fingers spread out to cover as much of you as possible. He waits until you nod and sighs. “Good.” He kisses your cheek again, then your jaw, his lips wandering back to your neck.

And just like that a switch seems to flip in him again. “And you’re mine,” Kuroo continues, voice lower than before. “Or do I have to remind you who you belong to?” His hand slides up your stomach, inching towards your chest.

“Tetsu,” you gasp, arching into his clever hand.

“What do you call me, kitten?” It’s more of a demand than a question, and you keen as his fingers slip beneath your bra. His calloused thumb brushes against your nipple before he pinches it between his fingers just to watch you squirm.

Breath catching, you wet your bottom lip. “Sir,” you correct yourself, letting him tilt your head to the side, positioning you just the way he wants you. Your easy compliance makes him grin. Kuroo grinds against your ass again, harder this time, and you squeeze your thighs together as heat licks across your spine.

“Good girl.”

His lips meet your jaw in a chaste kiss, and he squeezes your breast once, palming you before letting go. As his hand snakes out from beneath your shirt, you expect him to yank you around, force your head back and dominate you with a rough kiss, so you’re surprised when his touch leaves you entirely. Like before, his palms press against the top of the counter. Even his weight leaves your back, an inch of space between you that feels too wide and painfully close all at once. The heat of his breath tickles the back of your neck, and you shudder at his proximity, desperate for his touch.

There’s a whiny tone to your voice when you call out his name. “Tetsu,” you whimper, torn between begging for him and holding onto your stubborn pride. Anything to get him to touch you again. Already, there’s an ache forming in the pit of your stomach, and he’s hardly done anything yet.

When he ignores you, you huff. Taking matters into your own hands, you press your palms to the counter top and grind yourself back against his crotch. Satisfaction bursts in your chest as he makes a surprised sound in the back of his throat, but your pleased grin at catching him off-guard disappears as his hand comes down on your ass with a sharp slap.

This time, you yelp, mouth dropping open in a silent cry as his big hand squeezes your ass over your shorts. “So impatient,” Kuroo muses, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Are you gonna behave for me, or are you gonna keep acting like a brat?” There’s a condescending edge to his tone, and you wish it didn’t turn you on as much as it did. And he knows it too.

As he waits for you to respond, Kuroo places his hands on your hips. His thumbs trace slow circles on your sides, slowly inching your shirt upwards as he fights the urge to rip the thin fabric over your head and take in every inch of your skin under his greedy touch.

And fuck if that’s not exactly what you want right now. It’s a miracle that you aren’t already trembling for him, hyper-aware of his every move. His heated touch. “I’ll behave,” you tell him. The chilled edge of the counter presses against your abdomen as he drags your top higher, but the cold is chased away by his palms ghosting over your sides.

“What was that, kitten?” You don’t have to look at him to know that he’s smirking, pleased with himself for making you such a mess already.

You wet your lips again. “I’ll behave, sir,” you repeat yourself, louder this time.

You’re rewarded with another pleased sound rumbling in his chest. “That’s my good girl,” Kuroo says again. His hands are on your ribs now, his thumbs tracing the underside of your lacy bra. Your shirt is carefully tugged off over your head before he carelessly tosses it to the floor, hands going right back to your painfully soft skin. Both of you revel in the contact.

Kuroo’s mouth is back on your neck immediately, lip wandering over every inch of newly bared skin available to him, all teeth and tongue as he peppers your skin with faint hickeys and love-bites. His teeth graze a sensitive spot between your neck and shoulder. His hands are everywhere. Palming your breasts. Drawing circles and shapes across your sides. Slipping between your legs to stroke your thighs and flirt with the hem of your shorts, teasingly close to where you really want him.

And then his hand wraps around your throat. He doesn’t choke you, grip loose enough for you to breathe, but the slightest pressure has goosebumps erupting across your skin. Your legs tremble as he squeezes just the slightest.

He nips at your exposed neck, and your breath hitches as two long fingers trace your slit over your shorts, applying just enough pressure to your clit for your hips to jump into his touch. Your head falls back against his shoulder again, your eyes squeezing shut as your mouth drops open.

A frustrated whine builds in your throat as he pulls away, but he’s quick to hush you, his hand slipping under the waist of your shorts to tug them down your hips. Left in just your panties, you rub your thighs together, flushing when you feel just how wet you are already. Your panties stick to your skin in a way that’s almost embarrassing, and you know it’ll only stroke Kuroo’s ego even harder.

“Fuck,” Kuroo murmurs as your panties slide down to your ankles. “I’ve been wanting to take these off you all damn day.” He leans back to get a good look at you, half-naked and dripping for him, and the sight goes right to his cock. “Such a cute little ass.” A hard spank to your right cheek makes you gasp, the sharp sting of pain making your eyes water. He’s quick to soothe the tender spot, chuckling, low and throaty, a deep baritone that hits you right between the legs.

“Do you have any idea how hard it was not to bend you over right in front of Bokuto and Akaashi?” he continues. “I bet you would have liked that, huh? Dirty little slut.” Kuroo’s hand is back between your legs, teasing your wet slit and sliding over your clit until you’re panting.

His grip shifts around your throat. “Fuck,” you mewl. “Tetsu—Tetsu, please.” You can’t finish the plea, a loud squeal cutting you off as he pinches your clit harshly between his fingers before letting go, pain mixed with the pleasure. “Oh, god.”

“Bend over, kitten,” he tells you, lips against your ear. A hand on your lower back guides you down to the counter, and you comply willingly, stretching up on your toes as your torso is pressed against the smooth surface. Kuroo strokes your cheek, his thumb brushing against your lower lip teasingly. “Don’t move.”

You stay perfectly still even as he backs away, legs quivering from the angle and the stretch, precariously balanced on your toes with the counter digging into your hips. None of that matters though. Not the mild discomfort or the cold seeping into your torso. All you can feel is Kuroo behind you, his gaze burning into your back as he trails the tips of his fingers over the curve of your ass, admiring you.

There’s something a bit like awe in his tone as he murmurs, “Fuck, look at you.” His hands ghost over your hips and thighs, like he isn’t sure where he wants to touch you. “So fucking pretty. Such a good slut for me.”

Kuroo’s hand slides up your back, his fingers tracing the dip of your spine until he reaches the base of your neck, where his long fingers wrap around you, forcing you down harder against the counter top. A low hum slips from his mouth as he looks down at you, sharp eyes drinking in the sight of you, how pretty you look underneath him as you try not to squirm. Leaning over you, he grinds his cock against the back of your thigh teasingly. “Is this what you want, kitten?” he asks you, breath hot against your ear. “You want me to bend you over the counter and fuck you senseless? Make you beg me to let you come all over my cock?”

He squeezes the back of your neck as a breathy sound escapes your mouth. Kuroo kisses your cheek. His lips brush against you as he murmurs, “Well that’s too fucking bad.”

You yelp as you’re suddenly yanked off the counter. Hands latch onto your hips as soon as your feet are on the ground, and you’re ripped around so that you’re facing Kuroo for the first time since he came up behind you earlier. His hazel eyes are almost golden in the kitchen light, and there’s a feral glint in his gaze as he looks at you. “You wanna be naughty? Tease me?” he asks, leaning in until his lips are hovering just above yours. “Come on, kitten, you should know better than that.”

His hand wraps around your throat again, tighter this time, and you’re forced to follow him as he steps away from the counter. Kuroo doesn’t kiss you as he guides you through his apartment, making you walk backwards so you can’t see where he’s taking you.

“What was it that Yukie was saying about my thighs earlier?” he asks you. “What did she say that made you so damn mad?”

“Tetsu,” you whimper.

“You know you aren’t very subtle, kitten.” Belatedly, you realize he’s taken you to his room. Kuroo throws the door shut behind you, but doesn’t bother to lock it. Your cunt clenches at the thought of Bokuto or Akaashi walking in, but Kuroo is quick to drag your attention back to him. “You think I didn’t see you staring at me the entire game? You couldn’t take your damn eyes off me.”

Kuroo lets go of your neck, his hand trailing up to your jaw as he drags his thumb across your bottom lip. He watches you as his hand falls back to his side, and his lips curve upwards as he fists the back of his shirt, yanking the plain t-shirt off in one smooth motion. You can’t help the way your gaze drops to his bare chest and stomach, greedy eyes taking in each defined muscle from years of playing volleyball.

Your gaze only slides lower as his sweatpants drop to the floor as well, leaving him in only a pair of boxers that leave his thick thighs on display. Fuck, if you weren’t dripping before, you definitely are now.

So busy staring at his legs, you don’t notice that his smile is all teeth.

Kuroo drops down onto the edge of the bed, and you gasp as he grabs your hips. Yanking you forward, you’re pulled down to him. Chest to chest. Not an inch of space left between you as he situates you over his leg, forcing you to straddle his thigh. “What were you thinking about, hmm?” he asks as you steady yourself on his broad shoulders, feet barely finding purchase on the floor. Heat sinks into you as his thumbs tease the lacy edge of your underwear. As if to taunt you, he leans in close, breath fanning over your lips. “Was it this?”

With that mocking tone, he shifts beneath you, his hands tight on your hips as he grinds you down against his thigh. The rough drag against your clit makes your eyes flutter shut. Your head drops forward against his shoulder, a shuddering breath falling from your parted lips.

“You wanna fuck yourself on my thigh, kitten?” To emphasize his question, his flexes beneath you, pressing harder against your wet cunt. The angle is just right to have him applying pressure perfectly to your clit. When you try to grind against him, Kuroo grabs your hips, holding you in place. And, when you try it again, he lets go of one of your hips long enough give you a warning smack on the outside of your thigh. The sting makes you shudder. “Dirty girl,” he coos, reaching around to squeeze your ass.

“Please,” you whimper as he mouths at the curve of your jaw. Kuroo kisses across your neck, nipping at you as he works his way down to your shoulder. One of his hands slides between your spread thighs to feel how wet you are, and you have to bite your lip to keep from whimpering as he laughs. You jerk, arching into his teasing touch.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he notes as his fingers slip beneath the damp, flimsy fabric of your panties. Kuroo hums, pleased at the way your arousal coats his fingers.

He circles your clit slowly, each touch sending little pleasurable shocks through you. The knot in your stomach only coils tighter. “Asshole,” you bite out, choking on a moan as he pulls his hand away, leaving you more frustrated than you were a minute ago.

Your tone only gets another laugh from him, deeper and darker than before. “Ouch,” he says, brushing your hair away from your neck, “kitty’s got claws tonight.” His hand wraps around your throat again, long fingers curling around your fragile neck. You still, inhaling sharply, and Kuroo groans as he feels your pulse start to race beneath his hand.

He pulls you further against his chest, naked skin pressed flush against yours. “I thought you said you were going to behave for me,” he reminds you, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth. As his lips trail across your cheek, he shifts his thigh underneath you, dragging himself against your pussy slowly. Kuroo stops when he reaches your ear; his grip on your throat tightens, squeezing enough to steal your breath. “You that jealous? Or do you want me to punish you?”

The question is almost a low growl, and you shiver, thighs squeezing around his muscular one. “Tetsu,” you gasp around the intoxicating grip he has on your throat. “Please, I can’t—I need you,” if what you finally manage to spit out, thoughts muddled and head heavy with arousal.

“Well, you better get to it then,” he tells you, adjusting his grip on your throat. His other hand squeezes tightly around your hip, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise. When you don’t move, he bounces his leg. It tears a moan from your chest. “Come on, you know what to do. Why don’t you give me a little show?”

It’s hard to breathe, let alone move. His presence is suffocating in the best way. The hand around your throat. His thigh between yours. The feel of his skin beneath your fingers and the steady beat of his heart where his chest is pressed to yours. All of it has you on edge.

The need swirling in your stomach forces you to move. A slow rhythm picks up as you slide over his thigh, grinding down on him. The tight grip you have on his shoulders is the only thing holding you up, and you shudder at the friction against your swollen clit. A sound of approval leaves Kuroo, and he hums against the side of your jaw, grip tightening just the slightest around your neck.

The grip he has on your hip loosens suddenly. His fingers slides along your side teasingly, his touch so soft that it makes your heart squeeze. You press your chest into his touch as he palms your breast. Deft fingers make quick work of the flimsy fabric, his hand slipping underneath to pinch and roll your nipple just like before. It isn’t long before he’s turned you into a quivering, moaning mess.

The ache between your legs only worsens with each slow roll of your hips against his thigh. The friction is intoxicating, but it isn’t enough. It isn’t what you need. Right now, you want to feel him surrounding you, holding you down as he whispers filthy things in your ear, making you moan for him. You want the pressure of his cock inside you, stretching you, the roughness of his fingers circling your clit until you’re so sensitive you have to beg him to stop.

“That’s it,” he mumbles. “Be a good girl for me and maybe I’ll let you cum.”

Little garbled pleas of his name fall from your lips as he pinches your nipple again, the sharp sting making you lurch forward against his chest.

Releasing your breast, he reaches around your back, fiddling with the clasp of your bra for a second before the fabric comes undone, straps sliding down your arms. You’re barely aware of him prying your fingers from his shoulder and tossing the fabric aside, but when he crushes you against his broad chest, the heat that surrounds you is overwhelming.

Kuroo draws you into a kiss, hot and heavy enough to make your head spin. Letting go of your throat, both of his hands make their way back to your hips, helping you grind down against him harder, faster, your rhythm picking up speed as your legs start to twitch and tremble.

He smacks your ass, gripping tightly and kneading your cheek. The sting distracts you as his other hand disappears beneath your soaked panties. Teasingly, he drags his fingers against your cunt, slick fluid clinging to his skin. “Look at you making a sloppy mess of my leg already.” He chuckles, rubbing two fingers against your clit to make you gasp. “And I’ve barely fucking touched you yet.”

The pace he sets up is hard and fast, determined to send you hurtling towards the edge. Your thighs clench around his, your fingers digging into his shoulders so tightly you swear you might break the skin. By now, your eyes are squeezed shut, your mouth open as you pant and gasp his name. You press yourself tighter to his chest. Sweat-slicked skin makes it easy to slide over his thigh as he plays with your clit.

By now, you’re so turned on that it almost hurts. Each harsh pinch of his fingers on your clit sends shocks of pleasure ripping through you, the coil in your lower belly winding tighter and tighter with every roll of your hips. He slaps your ass suddenly, still thumbing your clit, and the combined sensations make you choke on a moan. Between his fingers and the steady rocking of your hips, you’re going to cum. And you’re going to cum hard.

Kuroo forces you right to the edge; and then he takes it away.

You almost sob as he pulls his fingers out of your panties, Kuroo quick to grab your hips and hold you still, keep you from chasing his touch.

“No,” you gasp, trying to grind down on his thigh despite his iron grip. The lack of stimulation makes you whine, tears welling in your eyes. “No. Tetsu. Oh god, sir, please.”

He releases one of your hips to brush his fingers against your cheek, though the gentleness doesn’t last. Kuroo grips your chin between his fingers, tilting your chin to make you look at him. “I did say I’d have to punish you, kitten,” he reminds you. There’s an apology in his tone, but his wicked smile says he’s anything but. His thumb traces your bottom lip. “Don’t pout. You did so well.” You’re drawn into a sultry kiss that ends too soon. His words are muffled against your lips. “You’re gonna take me so fucking well. Just like a good girl. My good girl.”

“Let me make it up to you,” he says, but it sounds like a taunt.

It’s the only warning you get before his hands are on your ass, gravity shifting beneath you. Kuroo lurches off the bed, hauling you against his chest with ease. Your legs wrap around his waist reflexively, hands desperately grasping at his shoulders to hold yourself up. The bite of your fingernails on his skin makes him groan,

He squeezes your ass appreciatively before slamming you up against the nearest wall.

It knocks the air out of your lungs, and you wince, but Kuroo doesn’t you a moment to breathe before he devours you. His lips are feverish against yours, his tongue in your mouth and his teeth nipping at you until you’re whining and grinding against his cock. Spread open like this, you can only moan into his mouth as the tip brushes against your clit through your underwear.

For once, he doesn’t waste time teasing you, both of you too riled up to wait as he shoves his underwear down. You’re squirming by now, trying to pull him closer with your legs around his hips. A low groan tears from his throat as he shoves your panties aside, his thick cock rubbing against your dripping pussy.

Kuroo’s cock shoves inside of you easily, you’re so wet for him. The stretch burns in the best way, pure ecstasy ripping through you. You whimper as you struggle to take all of him, and your cunt clenches around him so tightly that he tears his mouth from yours to hiss and curse.

“You like that, kitten?” he asks you, groaning as he slaps one hand against the wall to steady himself. The other digs into your thigh. “You like it when it hurts? So fucking naughty.” He presses a sloppy kiss against the side of your neck.

He fucks you roughly. The wall scrapes against your back when he moves, and the little sounds you make only feed his fast pace. He’s perfect inside of you, hard and hot and thick enough to pound against your sweet spot with every harsh thrust of his hips. The wet slap of his cock filling you and your breathy panting and moaning are the only sounds in the apartment, so loud that your neighbors are sure to hear.

You tremble as Kuroo fucks you, only able to cling to him as pleasure makes you dizzy. You’re so close. You’re so, so close, and he must know it with the way you’re tightening around him with every roll of your hips.

His teeth dig into the curve of your neck and shoulder, and you yelp, fisting at his hair. He moans as you pull on the messy strands clenched in your fist, and his cock shoves inside of you even harder. “You wanna act like a little slut?” he pants against your ear, hand coming down on the outside of your thigh. “I’ll treat you like one. You think Daichi could make you feel this good?”

You moan, barely able to shake your head. You don’t want Daichi. You’ve never wanted Daichi. “Just you,” you choke out.

“Good girl.” And then his fingers are on your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles onto your swollen nerves.

Pleasure rips through you as you cum, white-hot and electric. The knot in your stomach snaps as your orgasm hits you, slamming the breath from your lungs. Your hips jerk between him and the wall. Your limbs tremble, heavy, and you shudder as you drop your head against his shoulder, biting down to keep yourself from shouting. The grip you have on his back slips, and your fingernails rake down his back, marking him up.

“Shit,” he sneers. Kuroo fucks you through it, grinding against you harder as your pussy clenches around his cock with every thrust, each rougher than the last. Calloused fingers continue to roll over your clit, though not as frantic as before. His thumb draws lazy circles against your sensitive nerves, swirling and playing with your clit until you’re shaking again.

Whimpering, you try to squirm away from his hand as the pleasure becomes overwhelming, stimulation bordering on too much, too fast until it hurts. “Tetsu,” you gasp, choking out his name. “I can’t—”

He slaps your thigh once. Twice. Then grabs your ass and grinds you against his cock, reaching so deep inside you. “No, no, no,” he mumbles nonsensically. “Not yet. We’re not done yet. Not until you give me one more.” Your walls flutter around him, slick walls sucking him in. “Fuck, that’s it, kitten. Just like that.” He wets his lips, mouth on your neck. “Cum for me again. Such, a good girl.”

Kuroo’s hand wraps around your throat again, squeezing hard. You choke, unable to breathe, and your eyes squeeze shut. You pull his hair. Rake your fingernails down his back. Desperate for anything to hold onto as your muscles twitch and tense. You’re so close. You’re so fucking close.

Squealing, you flinch as his clever fingers sneak back to your clit, determined to make you cum one more time.

And you do, clenching around him beautifully, pussy gripping him tight. All you can do is shake and gasp as another orgasm tears through you, the coil in your gut snapping for the second time tonight. Dark spots float across your vision as you cum on his cock, Kuroo moaning against your ear as he follows you. Hot, thick fluid fills you up as he continues to thrust inside of you, drawing out your release.

You gasp as his hand leaves your throat, panting and dizzy.

Kuroo cradles you against his chest, careful not to drop you as he presses his lips against your temple, murmuring words too low for you to hear. He pulls out slowly, his cum dripping down your thighs as he carries you to his bed.

It’s a few minutes later, when you’re curled up beside him and drowsy, that you remember everything from earlier.

“I’m sorry for trying to use Daichi to make you jealous,” you murmur against the crook of his neck, eyes fluttering shut as his fingers lazily caress your skin, drawing mindless patterns across your back as you cuddle against his side. “I don’t…” you bite your lip as you trail off, and Kuroo’s arm tightens around your waist almost protectively. “I don’t want you to feel like that. I don’t want you to think you can’t trust me. And I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you.”

Your voice is barely a whisper by the end, words breathed against his chest and swallowed up by the stillness of the room.

Kuroo tilts his chin to rest his head against yours. His fingers still against your side as he glances at you, focusing on the curve of your jaw in the half-light. “It’s okay,” he tells you just as softly. Gently, he pulls you a little closer, heaving a loud, obnoxious sigh. “I get it, he’s just so dummy thick. How could anyone resist that?”

Trying not to laugh, you weakly slap at his bare chest, but Kuroo just grabs your hand and smoothly laces his fingers with yours. “Stop,” you whine, tucking your flushed face against his shoulder. Warm lips press against your knuckles, and you can feel him trying not to laugh underneath you.

“Am I not thick enough for you, kitten?” he continues, voice dripping with faux hurt. You roll your eyes, peeking up at him only to find a pout on his lips. At your silence, Kuroo props himself up on his elbow so that he can look at you. “Damn, maybe Bokuto’s right, I shouldn’t skip leg day tomorrow. Shit, maybe I should go right now—”

He moves to get off the bed and you groan, unamused. “Tetsu.” You catch his hand before he can go far, and he lets you pull him down on top of you. “Stop teasing me.”

“You love it,” he murmurs, pressing a sloppy kiss against your cheek. “You know, maybe Yukie should compliment my thighs more. You’re pretty hot when you’re jealous.” His lips move to your neck, and you try not to roll your eyes again. As if he didn’t just fuck the hell out of you because he was jealous. Before you get the chance, Kuroo leans back to look at you. His knuckles slide against your cheek. “You okay? Need anything.” You shake your head and he kisses your cheek. “That’s my good girl.” He’s quiet for a minute. “You know I’m yours, right?”

Heart clenching in your chest, you murmur an affirmative.

“Good.”

As he settles back down, you let him cover you like a clingy, weighted blanket, his touch comforting as he wraps himself around you.

The sweet moment ends abruptly. The apartment door opens and closes loudly, a warning that your roommates are home. It’s quiet for a moment, but then Akaashi’s loud “son of a bitch!” when he sees your clothes on the floor makes your eyes fly open.

Kuroo buries his face against your hair and cackles.

[dumbledamnn]

Party Like It's 1974 (Ch.1)

Characters: Marauders, OCs

Pairings: Remus x fem!OC, Marlene x Dorcus, Lily x James

Word Count: 3810

Warnings: Language

Summary: Kat and Emma go to Hogwarts in 1974 lol

For the workers at Platform 9 ¾, there were only two true days of work a year. The first was in June, a day they like to call the Day of Withdrawal. This is the day when all the menacing adolescent children return to their parents for the summer holiday. Some quick-witted station worker coined this phrase when they noticed all the parents looked as if they had finally succumbed to their separation anxiety while all the kids looked like they could use a butterbeer.

The second falls at the start of September and was dubbed the Day of Frenzy. Though just as many people came in June as they did in September, the latter is significantly more chaotic. The Day of Frenzy is the day that all the incoming students board the Hogwarts Express and take off towards their next year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The frenzy is fueled by the reunions of overjoyed upperclassmen, the nose-blowing cries of parents as they wave goodbye to their babies, and the panic of first-years who simply don’t know what’s going on.

Unfortunately for the platform workers, today is the first of September and the station is filled to the brim with black cloaks and trolley carts. One could barely hear the conductor announce the countdown till take off over the hustle and bustle of students.

Amid the people, a fourth-year meanders through the crowd with her cart. She glances around, hoping to catch a glimpse of a familiar face. There are so many people and the heat is practically rising off the floor. She rolls up her black sleeves and shoves her circle glasses back to the top of her nose.

She is a sweet-looking girl whose entire complexion screams her Irish heritage. Her freckles are like hundreds of dots of color on her otherwise pale skin. Her black hair stands out, tied back in braided pigtails.

She tries again, surveying the crowd as she pushes her cart along. She realizes that driving blindly was a bad idea as she collides with another cart, sending their luggage straight into each other.

“Vidor! Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” The girl rushes to the point of collision. She picks up her owl, poking at it. The bird, Vidor, shakes its feathers and gently shrieks. The girl lets out half a sigh of relief, interrupted by her realization that Vidor wasn’t the only victim of this accident.

“I’m so- wait what the-” She whips around to face the other cart but finds no one at the wheel.

“EMMA!” two voices harmonize in a horrific shriek from behind her. Emma barely flinches as she turns to face her surprisers, a wide grin on her face.

“James! Sirius! Hi!” She tackles them with a bear hug. The two, stand for a second, partially stunned by her hug and partially stunned by her lack of response. Finally, they succumb to her hug, their confused looks mixing in with the joy of seeing an old friend.

“How the hell did you not react to that?” James begins to laugh at the absurdity that is Emma.

She shrugs, finally letting the two breathe.

“My brain, empty, no thought, can’t be surprised cause nothing is going on up there.” The girl points at her head and begins to laugh with James.

“Emma is an enigma. It’s better not to question it.” Sirius slings his arm around Emma’s shoulders, grinning.

“So how are you guys? How was your summer?” Emma looks at the two boys. Her smile is huge and her eyes gleam with excitement. Her expectant looks are met with a bit of hesitation as the two boys look at each other. Were they caught off guard or was that an awkward glance?

A faint “Sonorus” drifts across the crowd before the train conductor’s voice interrupts every conversation in the station.

“Five more minutes till departure! Students, say your goodbyes and board the train!”

“Later then.”James gives a short smile before making his way back over to their converging carts. He wiggles his finger in front of Vidor before pulling his stuff briskly off of Emma’s.

The three walk across the platform, dropping their luggage off at the back of the train. They head to the front, maneuvering through the departing families till they climb the stairs to their next year.

--

The Hogwarts Express smells like candy. It tastes like sugar sticks and pumpkin pasties. It feels like faded velvet and leather briefcases, like an old museum with framed strangers promising a worthwhile trip and nick-nacks whose purpose was lost years ago.

Led by James, the three push through hugs and trunks to get to a row of open carts in the back. Through the foggy glass, you could make out which ones were occupied and which were already full of other eager students.

Cabin A is occupied by Maegen Locke and her Hufflepuff friends. The cart fills with cheers as she reveals a king of clubs. A group of sorrowful first years hands her their Licorice Lace as the cards begin to shuffle themselves.

The practically silent Cabin B is the current reading spot of a Ravenclaw couple. Though they are facing each other, they are too engrossed in their reading to mind each other’s presence.

The Slytherins seem to have claimed Cabins C-F as their territory, each cart filled with bitter hisses and judgemental glares. As they pass, Sirius and Emma make sure to return the favor to each individual.

The next set of carts are home to less noise than the front. Scattered amongst them are pairs of friends or lonely individuals hoping for a friendly face. James breezes past, tossing a quick glance into each window. He is searching for someone. Emma and Sirius trail behind, still mocking the rather irritating Slytherin they had just passed.

James finally halts in front of Cabin M as another announcement fills the train.

“One minute till take-off. Hurry up and board the train! We’ve got places to be people.”

“Feeling rather sassy today, isn’t he?” Sirius chuckles.

“I support him. I would too if I had this job.” Emma gives a sympathetic nod towards the speaker. “Keep on keeping on Mr. Conductor.” Sirius lets out a yelp of laughter.

Suddenly, Cabin M swings open. Two heads at very different heights pop out. The first, and lowest, is a soft and round look boy with blotchy cheeks and fluffy-looking hair. He smiles a very toothy grin at the new company. The second towers above the first, a more defined face decorated with freckles and faded scars. His hair curls down into half circles, matching the slight curve of his pointed nose.

“Hi, guys!” The shorter one bursts into the hallway. He is radiating excitement.

“Hey Pete, Hi Remus.” James ruffles Peter’s hair and enters the cabin, throwing himself down by the door.

“Remus, you got here early? Hey Peter!” Sirius follows after James, also patting Peter on his head like a house cat. Peter is glowing from the affection.

“Hi Peter,” Emma skips the pat but offers a quick hug instead. He is warm and soft like a gentle bear. He scuttles back into the cabin taking his seat between Sirius and James.

“Hi!” Emma’s face flushes ever so slightly after making eye contact with Remus.

“Hey,” His voice is gentle as he motions for her to enter into the cart. “Ready for another year?”

”Hell yeah!”

It’s barely 11 am and Emma’s mouth already hurts from smiling. Her stomach is flipping with excitement in a mix of nervous butterflies and overwhelming joy. Her mouth is producing way more saliva than it normally does.

She takes a seat next to Remus by the window. Outside, the platform, now void of students, is filled with waving parents.

“Last call. If you haven't boarded yet, I swear to God.” The conductor’s voice sharply carries into the cabin. His mood has decreased significantly in the past fifteen minutes.

The boys begin talking about future pranks and first classes while Emma stares out the window. Normally she would be absolutely engrossed in the conversation but something was bothering her. Her eyes darted across the rows of parents, searching for the bother.

Emma has this special skill, a spidey sense of sorts. When it comes to people, she can read them like books. Some people use auras or zodiac signs but nothing is as certain as Emma’s instincts. They were, for better or worse, never wrong.

In all honesty, though, her instincts span farther than just reading people. Directions, decisions, the right places to eat. One time last year, she was the only one not in the mood for pie (something very unusual for her) and she was the only one to avoid food poisoning. All to say, right now, her instincts are telling her that something was missing and she knew exactly what it was.

The train chugs out a burst of air and the wheels begin to squeak.

“Wait a second,” Emma says, turning towards the door of the cabin. “I swear to god if she is late for this.”

The train begins to move, a light chug on the tracks, before screeching to a sudden stop. The group lurches forward at the sudden stall. Outside the cabin and down the hall, a girl boards and begins offering a slew of apologies to the other students.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! That’s my bad. I didn’t mean to.” Emma’s mouth drops as Sirius howls in laughter. Peter’s eyes dart around in slight confusion.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” James cackles as he opens the door to their cabin. He waves his hand towards the girl down the hall.

“James! Hi!” she says before turning towards some glaring Slytherin. “Sorry about that.”

She quickly walks down the hall to Cabin M, rushing into the seat beside Remus before the train picks up speed and shoots down the tracks.

“Kat, I literally called you this morning, I, how? How are you late? Why?” Emma leans over Remus to stare down at her friend. Sirius calms his laughter down while the others wait for a response.

Kat breathes heavily. Her cloak is sagging by her elbows and her brow is furrowed in sweat. The extra time she took to get to the platform might have been used to do her hair. Unfortunately, the rush has made her space buns sag on the side of her head. Loose strands curl around the frame of her face.

“I,” she breathes heavily, “couldn't decide what to wear.”

The boys snicker slightly, but Emma’s face scrunches in even further confusion.

“We have...a uniform?” She questions, glancing down at Kat, who is wearing the same thing as everyone else in the cabin.

“I realized that...an hour too late…” She trails off, glancing around at the boys. She notices they are all stifling smiles at the sheer stupidity of the situation. The Hogwarts Express has never been more than a second late until now. It was almost an impressive feat.

“Oh my god.” Emma lets out a disappointed mom sigh but she can’t stay in character. She starts to laugh, allowing the others to finally break as well.

Kat sighs, still trying to get some oxygen in her lungs before taking off her cloak and shoving it to the corner of the seat. The train is much cooler than the station but the cold September air was not enough to stop the pool of sweat from the run to Platform 9 ¾.

“So, how was everyone’s summer?” Kat asks as the laughter dies down.

“Hung out at James’ for most of the summer.” Sirius pulls out his wand and starts to weave it between his fingers. “I thought I’d get a break from the snoring but alas.”

James punches Sirius in the side, stopping Sirius from laughing at his own joke.

“He helped me with my quidditch training. This year, I’m gonna kick some Hufflepuff ass. Wait, Emma, did you say you were gonna try out this year?”

“Yup! I want to be a beater so I can smack the shit out of everything.” James and Emma high five. Remus giggles but quickly goes back to his nonchalant grin.

“My mum and I went to the Quidditch World Cup.” Peter’s soft and mousy voice fills the pause.

James shoots up in his seat, excitement on his face. “Oh yeah, I heard about that. You were there?”

Peter, motivated by James’ interest, begins to ramble. “I was! Everyone snuck in these things called dissimulators that puffed up colored smoke. It was mad. At first, there weren’t that many people in the crowd but the more colored smoke puffed up, the larger the crowds grew. Then suddenly, halfway through the match, all their dissimulators turned into their wands. It turns out they snuck them in despite the new code. There were so many of them that the guy in charge just quit then and there. It was crazy!”

“Hell yeah! Fuck the system! Idlewind sucked ass. God, I wish I could've seen it.” James raises his fists in a fuck-the-system type of way.

James is the current Gryffindor seeker. He is the best seeker the team has ever seen since the early 1900s. Ever since his first year, he brought the team countless victories making Gryffindor undefeated since 1971.

“What about you Rem?” Sirius nods towards the quiet giant.

“I read a few books. My family and I traveled to Paris for a weekend in May. It was pretty fun. Oh! I forgot.” Remus stands up and snatches a briefcase from the storage above. He flips over the leather flap and starts digging around. He pulls out a stack of Parisian postcards and begins to deal them out to his friends.

The girls almost synchronically say “Awe!”

Sirius lets out a genuinely excited “Nice.” as he inspects the image. “I love muggle things.”

“Anyways, what about you guys?” Remus glances at the two girls sitting beside him as he tucks his briefcase above.

Kat nods her head to Emma as a signal for her to go first.

“Me?” Emma points to herself.

“Yes, you,” Kat says in a mom-ish tone.

“I’m just making sure.”

“Who else would I be-”

“Ladies. Though I love a good catfight, is someone gonna answer the question?” Sirius interjects, finally tucking his postcard into his cloak.

Emma kicks Sirius in the shin. “I’m telling Marlene you said that.” Sirius’s eyes go wide in slight fear as Emma starts to recall her summer.

“My family and I went camping all over Ireland. We took an RV and went everywhere, ending at my Grandparent’s house.”

“Awe that sounds so-” Kat tries to say but Emma wasn’t done.

“And then we got absolutely schwasted with my relatives.”

“O-Oh.”

Emma smiles sincerely and turns to face Kat, ready for her summer wrap-up. However, the rest of the gang is cackling. Sirius’s distracting deep-voiced Hyena laugh almost masks Remus’s sweet giggles. Peter snorts softly while James laughs like a politician. Kat just huffs out air.

After a bit of laughter, Kat finally answers the question.

It is worth mentioning that, though Kat attends Hogwarts, she’s not quite like the others. Besides the fact that she is completely muggle-born, she is from America.

“Um...I went to Arkansas at one point. I think it's a fake place made by the government. We shot fireworks off and it almost hit my brother. Luckily his hearing came back after a few days. Uhh..let me think… I tried to bake cupcakes but I accidentally baked the frosting and iced the cupcakes with the batter. That was a really bad experience…” She trails off, finally looking at her friend’s faces.

The rest of the group just stares at her in complete confusion.

“Yup, sounds about right. Anyways, what classes are you guys hoping to get?” Emma turns back to the rest of the group.

“Genuinely, you two are just- yup okay. I’m hoping to take Astronomy this year.”

The group begins to recall what classes are for fourth years and what teachers they are excited to see. Seamlessly they fall into old patterns of conversation and inside jokes. Their laughter fills the cabin, the reunion of best friends after a far too long break. They are talking and laughing so loudly, they almost miss the Trolley Witch.

“Wait!” Peter yells down the hall. The Trolley Witch slowly pulls the cart back in front of Cabin M.

“What would you lovely bunch like?” She waves her hand over the array of brightly colored candies and chocolates.

Simultaneously, there is a shout for chocolate. Emma and Remus look at each other before chuckling awkwardly.

“Dear God…” Sirius rolls his eyes, smiling “I’ll take one Bertie’s Botts please.”

“Here you go, dear. Anyone else?”

“Do y’all have any like, lollipop type things?” Kat eyes the cart curiously.

“We have acid pops.” The witch’s voice was like honey.

“Oh, that sounds fun, sure I’ll-”

“No!” Emma shouts. “Unless you want a hole burned in your tongue.”

“Okay, literally why would you sell that?” Kat’s face is wide in confusion.

“Why’d you go and spoil the fun?” James laughs while Sirius pouts at the missed opportunity.

The Trolley Witch starts to laugh, a rather haunting contrast to the sweetness of her voice. She rolls the cart away, letting the door shut behind her.

“So Remus, chocolate already? Is it your time of the month?” Sirius nudges Remus’s foot. Remus rolls his eyes and kicks Sirius back. Sirius yelps and grabs his shin.

“If you guys keep kicking me, I’m gonna break a bone.”

“Then stop saying stupid shit.” Emma kicks his other foot, gently but enough to get another yelp.

“And never ask a person if it's their time of the month, That’s just common sense.” Kat rolls her eyes and smirks at Emma who glances back.

“Can’t a man enjoy his chocolate in peace?” Remus shakes his head. He continues to munch on the bar, sporting a look of satisfaction with each bite.

Emma looks outside. The view had changed from the cityscape of London to the rolling hills of Scotland. The sun that was once midway in the sky was now creeping towards the horizon. Has time flown that quickly?

“Have you guys heard from your other roommate this summer?” Kat curiously looks at the other guys. Their faces are completely blank.

“We have another roommate?” James asks as Sirius begins counting the boys in the room.

“Is it not just the four of us?”

“I didn’t notice anyone else for the past three years…” Peter mumbles. Remus just shrugs, too preoccupied with his delicious treat.

“You’re kidding me right?” Kat glances around, hoping for even a hint of a smile. She came up empty.

“You’re telling me there are five students in a room?” James asks.

“Emma, help, my brain is hurting from the dumbass-ery.”

Emma begins to count on her fingers, smiling but also surprised at the ingenuity of the boys.

“Marlene, Dorcus, Lily, Kat, and Me. Five.”

The guys let out a synchronized “Ahh…” as if this was a brand new revelation.

”I suppose we’ll find out when we get there.”

“But Gu-” Kat is interrupted by Emma’s shushing noise. She shakes her head and Kat recedes back in her seat.

The room fills with piercing golden sunlight as the sun tucks itself behind the hills. The setting sun is a marker signaling twenty minutes left in the train ride.

“Oh, I have a question,” Kat asks.

“Yes, Miss Russell. What is your question?” Emma responds in the most McGonagall voice she could muster. It was pretty on point.

“Are y’all still doing that thing?” She glances around.

“Did she just say y’all?” Remus’s face scrunches at the cowboy-ness of the phrase. Emma laughs and Sirius snickers.

“What thing?” James nods back to Kat, acknowledging her question.

“The animal thing, I forgot the word…” Suddenly she is shushed by everyone. She jolts back in her seat. She squints until the memory comes back to her.

“Oh sorry, yeah I forgot… It's a secret.” Kat starts to whisper, glancing out the door’s window. No one passes by.

“It’s more than a secret, it's illegal,” Peter mutters, glancing around nervously. James nudges Peter and gives him an affirming nod. Peter sits up with more confidence than he had before and smiles at Remus.

Remus stares at his empty wrapper.

“Yeah, we’re still doing it,” Sirius says in an almost demanding tone. As if there wasn’t any other answer besides yes. He stares at the sunset outside.

“Of course we’re still doing it.” Emma smiles, and gently pats Remus’s knee, pulling him back from his wrapper into reality. Remus returns the smile and mutters something along the lines of “thanks”.

James chuckles, “Hey it looks like we’re pulling into Hogsmeade.”

Outside, the dark landscape fades into brick buildings with uneven roofs. The buildings, partially obscured by darkness, still glow with a whimsical light. Some have shop titles branded on the front with faded letters while others glisten with a sort of old-fashioned newness.

The train tracks along until it arrives at a long wooden port lined with poles carrying firefly torches. In the middle of the wooden planks stands a rather large and hairy man holding a little kerosine lamp. He waves as the train flashes by him.

“Hagrid!” Emma and Sirius smush their faces against the window while the rest wave furiously behind them. Hagrid recognizes the zealous pack and returns the wave as they speed by.

Finally, the train screeches to a stop. With a final blast from the horn, the doors fling open.

“Students, grab your things and go.”

Suddenly, the train is filled with the same hustle from back at the station. The students snatch their bags from the overhead storage and make their way, single file, to the boardwalk outside. The first years are hurried away with Hagrid while the rest wrap themselves in their cloaks in an attempt to fight the brisk autumn air.

Finally, a rather short professor with an extraordinary mustache begins to direct the students down the road to standing wagons. The wooden wheels are at attention with reigns that lead to nowhere. As the students board, the carts sway from side to side. After the cart is full, it takes off, ricketing full speed down the dirt road towards the castle.

“I’m so excited.” Emma practically jumps onto the cart. Boarding one by one, the group takes in the horseless carriages. Magic was always peculiar but this was astonishing even to those who knew magic like their ABCs. As soon as James sits down next to the others, the carriage starts to trot away towards the castle. It was time to start their next year at Hogwarts.

[golbrocklovely]

My curiosity is getting the best of me so i wonder, just based on interviews and videos Colby has done where he talks about this ex. Do you think his ex girlfriend whom he was in love with and claimed to be clingy with was the same one he cheated on because it seems like different people to me. In one video he said he felt the relationship ended because he was clingy and couldn't see himself not being around her without his day getting ruined. And he said he was so miserable when it ended he wouldnt leave his room. Basically this relationship consumed him. But the girl he spoke of in Sams vid he said he cheated because you could feel the relationship had run its course and they hadnt really been talking...In this last vid he said he's been heart broken twice so could be different people.

Just a thought and a whole lot of curiosity.

oh my god, sorry this is so long but i have a lot to say (and a little bit of proof maybe????)

it's so weird you bring this up, anon, bc i was literally gonna make a post of tweets colby has made over the years that are about love and whatnot, so i've been in the mood to talk about his love life for a while.

at first, i was more incline to think that the girl he cheated on and the girl he broke up with in 2016 were not the same, bc how can you say you're heartbroken from a relationship that you cheated on, you know?? but now, i do think it's the same girl.

let me explain.

looking at his tweets from 2016, you can tell he is in love bc a lot of them are really sweet and lovey-dovey. the tweets start around feb. and even a little bit before in jan., one of them reading “I like your face, that's why I stare” on feb 22. i think somewhere between feb-apr, he meets this girl and they start dating. he starts tweeting things like “I'll be here for you as long as you're always here for me” on march 22, and “All I see is you”, so you can tell he's already headed straight towards Love-ville, you know lol

what i think happened is that he and this girl were in love with each other, but he loved her a lot more than she loved him. he even claimed that he fell really fast in his previous relationship (which i think is this one). so i think what happened is, he fell for her really quickly, and even though she loved him, it wasn't the same or as much as he loved her. and as he had stated in the 'truth or drink' vid he did with sam, things were going downhill for about two/three months before they broke up. in june he's tweeting things like “I need you, don't let me down” on the 6th, and even “Flaky people ..” on june 27, which could be referring to his gf at the time. that same day even he tweeted “Oh my love, can't you see that you're always on my mind ?”, so i think to some extent it was this back and forth of 'i love you, but you keep pulling away from me and i'm tired/hurt from it'.

i think to some degree, he fell too fast and she was uncomfortable with it. so this is when she was starting to take a step back, maybe asking for space a bit, which is what he meant by when their plans would get cancelled, he would be upset. in july he's tweeting 'You don't understand how much you really mean to me' on the 14th and 'I won't let go' on the 30th. i think he could tell they were drifting apart, but he wasn't ready for it to happen.

by august, and no offense to colby if he ever see this, but he sounded kinda desperate but also really upset. i mean i would too if the person i was in love with was pulling away and i wasn't ready for them to leave (bc who the fuck is ever really ready, you know?). he tweeted “It's all because I care too much” on aug. 3, and “Your forever is all that I need” on aug. 13. he was also talking about needing a mental vacation a bunch, and even saying “Get rid of the people in your life who don't treat you right” by aug. 21. what i think is before he went to new york, his gf and him had a bit of a fall out of some sort, where maybe they said they should go on a break, step away from each other bc things weren't working out.

then, by aug 28, he tweets “Well hey NYC, you're looking beautiful tonight”. the next day he tweeted “"I'm no palm reader, but I doubt that's the sign I was looking for"” so i think somewhere within the those days, he might have cheated. also, no joke, on aug. 31, he tweeted “Protect your heart”, so by then, i think he had made his mind up about the relationship. he also had said in the 'truth or drink' vid, that even tho they were already kinda separated since they weren't really talking or seeing each other anymore, it was still cheating bc they were still technically 'dating' and hadn't broken up.

sept. 1, he tweeted "There's no turning back now". sept. 2, he then said "You know where your heart belongs as soon as you step back and just think. Have time to yourself" and "This trip has taught me so much.", so by this point i think they broke up. a couple days later on the 5th he tweeted "I need a girlfriend who's willing to be my best friend. Someone who cares for me just as much as I care for them. Someone who would go on insane adventures with me, and would wanna see the world. Both committed to each other. 100%. Someone who shows that they TRULY care", and then on the 8th "I can be hard to deal with sometimes. I get into bad moods that seem to change me as a person. I'm working on it. Only getting better", and then finally on the 9th "Someone come keep me company".

so to sum it up quickly, they got together early 2016, he fell really fast while she wasn’t falling as fast, she started pulling away and he got hurt by it, they had a fall out/pause in the relationship, he cheated on a trip, came back, and then they broke up.

hopefully this all makes sense. also, looking at his other tweets after this, you can tell the lovey-dovey feelings he once had weren't really there anymore, and he was a lot more closed off then normal. it took until 2018 for him to start opening a bit up again, but even then nothing fully stuck. personally, i think the other heartache is from before LA, like back when he was in hs, but it could have been something a bit more recent. maybe not someone he technically would have called a gf, but maybe someone he was hoping to be with but things fell thru? not sure entirely.

i also think he got his heartbroken first not by a girlfriend, but by a friend of his before he met sam. there a video where it is briefly mentioned and i honestly think that's why he has some trust issues, or at least that's where it started from. but if you want me to talk about that, just ask since this is already way too long lol

[ninafms]

            *  𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐰  ,  𝐢'𝐦  𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲  𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠  around  to  posting  nina’s  introduction  ,  but  my  theme  made  me  upset  so  this  will  be  viewed  on  dashboard  only  for  now  !  my  name’s  𝐛𝐚𝐲  ,  i  prefer  either  she / her  or  they / them  pronouns  ,  and  i  reside  in  the  est  timezone  .  i’m  in  my  final  year  of  college  so  sometimes  i  won’t  be  around  all  day  ,  but  since  i  only  work  two  days  and  all  of  my  classes  are  online  ,  chances  are  i’m  around  !  i’m  starting  this  little  introduction  at  exactly  2:30am  ,  so  chances  are  this  will  be  posted  at  like  ...  4am  (  lol  )  ,  but  i’m  super  excited  to  write  her  out  as  this  will  be  my  first  group  in  about  a  month  or  so  !  i’m  comfortable  with  messaging  through  the  im’s  if  that’s  better  for  you  ,  but  we  could  also  plot  on  discord  if  you’d  like  !  also  ,  don’t  forget  to  stream  blackpink’s  new  single  ‘  ice  cream  ’  with  selena  gomez  !

💀  *  [  jennie  kim  +  cis  female  +  she / her  ]  ——  have  you  met  na-young  “nina”  min  ?  they  are  a  twenty - three  year  old  senior  currently  studying  business  economics  with  a  political  science  minor  .  they  live  on  farrow  house  ,  and  word  around  campus  is  that  this  gemini  is  spellbinding  +  perspicacious  ,  as  well  as  combative  +  malevolent  .  i  wonder  if  they’ll  make  it  out  alive  .  biting  the  corner  of  her  thumbnail  when  focusing  ,  never  being  ashamed  of  back - to - back  walks  of  shame  ,  the  infectious  sound  of  her  laughter  traveling  the  hall  .

NAME  :  na-young  ‘  nina  ’  min  .

NICKNAME(S)  :  nini  ,  neens  ,  and  nana  (  by  her  parents  )  .

AGE  +  DATE  OF  BIRTH  :  23  +  june  2nd  ,  1997  .

ZODIAC  :  gemini  sun  ,  taurus  moon  ,  gemini  ascendant  .

MYERS - BRIGGS  PERSONALITY  TYPE  :  istp  .

MORAL  ALIGNMENT  :  neutral  evil  .

ENNEAGRAM  TYPE  :  the  achiever  .

GENDER  +  PRONOUNS  :  cis  female  +  she  /  her  /  hers  .

PLACE  OF  BIRTH  :  gangnam  ,  seoul  ,  south  korea  .

PLACE  OF  RESIDENCE  :  ivory  falls  ,  maine  .

SEXUAL  ORIENTATION  :  bisexual  .

ROMANTIC  ORIENTATION  :  biromantic  .

OCCUPATION  :  senior  at  holloway  university  .

NATIONALITY  :  korean - american  .

ETHNICITY  :  korean  .

LANGUAGES  SPOKEN  :  english  ,  korean  ,  and  japanese  .

i  .  prosopography  .

nina’s  story  begins  during  the  chance  meeting  of  her  parents  ,  ara  kim  and  hyun-woo  min  ,  when  they  were  in  their  early  twenties  .  most  would  assume  that  they  weren’t  compatible  for  one  another  as  ara  was  the  spoiled  child  of  the  kim  family  ,  who  were  known  around  south  korea  for  owning  various  luxury  buildings  and  apartment  complexes  in  the  gangnam  area  .  hyun-woo  on  the  other  hand  was  your  regular  college  student  who  worked  a  job  he  hated  to  pay  his  tuition  ,  but  he  had  big  dreams  as  he  wanted  to  someday  own  his  own  architecture  firm  .  when  the  mindless  ara  wrecked  her  fancy  car  into  hyun-woo’s  beat  up  toyota  ,  it  was  love  at  first  sight  .

it  was  a  whirlwind  relationship  as  the  couple  was  engaged  within  six  months  of  their  meeting  ,  and  married  within  eight  .  with  their  access  to  unlimited  funds  ,  the  couple  had  a  lavish  wedding  ,  and  hyun-woo  no  longer  had  to  worry  about  his  tuition  payments  .  now  focused  on  his  degree  without  having  to  worry  about  money  ,  he  found  himself  on  the  development  team  at  his  new  family’s  company  shortly  thereafter  his  graduation  .

with  hyun-woo  having  his  dream  job  and  ara  having  her  dream  husband  ,  the  couple  was  thriving  .  they  lived  in  a  beautiful  apartment  that  overlooked  gangnam  ,  and  they  had  gone  on  vacation  to  bali  when  ara  revealed  that  she  was  pregnant  .  the  couple  was  overjoyed  to  be  welcoming  their  baby  into  the  world  ,  and  to  say  that  they  were  obsessed  with  her  from  the  moment  they  saw  her  in  the  first  ultrasound  and  she  was  the  size  of  a  lime  .  the  couple  welcomed  their  little  baby  nine  months  later  ,  and  they  loved  every  inch  of  her  the  moment  she  was  placed  on  ara’s  chest  .

growing  up  ,  nina  enjoyed  the  spoils  that  her  family  provided  for  her  .  she  went  on  amazing  trips  ,  wore  the  best  clothes  ,  and  even  got  pushed  around  in  a  six  hundred  dollar  stroller  .  despite  that  ,  though  ,  nina  was  a  very  precocious  child  ,  picking  up  on  her   developments  quickly  .  as  she  grew  older  ,  nina’s  parents  saw  that  their  daughter  was  interested  in  a  variety  of  things  ,  so  when  she  was  five  ,  she  began  taking  piano  lessons  ,  and  it  was  evident  that  she  had  a  natural  gift  .

as  the  years  passed  ,  nina  continuously  excelled  in  her  academics  and  the  extracurriculars  that  she  tried  out  for  .  as  she  attended  the  best  schools  in  seoul  ,  nina  was  the  one  who  answered  questions  first  ,  she  was  the  first  to  sign  up  ,  and  the  first  to  complete  tests  .  nina  was  the  one  who  constantly  won  awards  from  her  school  ,  and  she  was  definitely  the  one  who  never  allowed  for  someone  else  to  take  her  place  .  

it  was  something  of  a  shock  to  her  parents  that  she  wanted  to  attend  college  in  the  states  ,  but  her  parents  were  not  the  ones  to  tell  her  no  .  so  ,  nina  went  on  to  be  accepted  into  holloway  ,  and  she  majors  in  business  economics  with  a  political  science  minor  !  i’d  say  that  she’s  involved  in  a  lot  of  student  organizations  like  student  government  ,  and  she’s  a  member  of  the  tennis  team  !  as  nuts  as  it  sounds  ,  she’s  on  the  tennis  team  for  the  cute  outfits  ,  but  she  loves  the  sport  as  well  . 

ii  .  temperament  .

alexa  ,  play  ‘  i  don’t  care  ’  by  ariana  grande  !  she  doesn’t  care  about  what  other  people  have  to  say  or  how  people  feel  about  her  ,  especially  considering  how  shameless  she  can  be  in  most  of  her  actions  .  she’s  ridiculously  blunt  ,  but  really  hates  when  people  are  bitchy  for  no  reason  ?  i  don’t  know  ,  a  paradox  considering  that  she  can  be  bitchy  for  no  reason  too  FKNDSFUDS  .  responds  heavily  to  the  energy  that  she’s  given  .  fully  believes  that  the  sun  and  moon  determines  her  mood  for  the  day  .

sUpErIoRiTy CoMpLeX  ?  gOd  CoMpLeX  ?  sounds  about  right  .  she  doesn’t  outright  brag  about  herself  all  the  time  ,  but  she’s  definitely  the  type  to  bring  it  up  when  it  applies  to  the  conversation  .  nina  is  the  mean  friend  that  everyone  needs  ,  and  has  a  weird  dislike  for  people  who  are  too  nice  .  

nina  isn’t  a  stone  cold  bitch  ,  though  .  she  likes  having  fun  ,  she  likes  to  laugh  ,  and  she  especially  likes  to  spend  time  with  her  friends  .  she’s  capable  of  empathy  and  compassion  ,  yes  .  will  she  show  that  all  the  time  ?  of  course  not  !  considering  that  she’s  an  only  child  ,  nina  is  used  to  having  all  eyes  on  her  ,  so  she  has  no  shame  in  her  fame  when  she  comes  back  to  farrow  house  wearing  last  night’s  dress  and  carrying  her  heels  .

iii  .  headcanons  .

she  already  knows  that  graduate  school  is  in  her  future  ,  but  she  hasn’t  decided  on  where  she  wants  to  go  yet  .

nina  resides  in  farrow  house  ,  and  she’s  probably  the  worst  kind  of  roommate  there  is  considering  how  type  a  she  can  be  at  times  .  her  room  (  or  side  of  the  room  i’m  not  sure  of  the  setup  )  is  relatively  organized  at  all  times  .  she’s  a  lover  of  white  ,  but  white  with  color  ,  so  she  keeps  the  tones  light  with  soft  shades  of  pink  scattered  throughout  !  she  likes  a  gold  accent  ,  and  everything  has  its  own  place  .

doesn’t  like  to  leave  her  bedroom  without  making  her  bed  or  picking  things  up  .  at  night  she  may  just  slip  out  of  her  clothes  and  go  to  bed  ,  but  she’s  definitely  going  to  pick  it  up  that  next  morning  ,  even  her  walk  of  shame  clothes  KNJFDISF  .  

despite  her  behavior  at  times  ,  nina  is  someone  who  studies  hard  because  she  doesn’t  like  anything  less  than  an  A  .  although  i  will  say  that  she  obsesses  over  her  grades  ,  but  she  knows  that  if  she  slacks  then  she’ll  get  slacker  grades  .

this  is  pointless  KFNDJSF  but  i  draw  a  lot  of  her  style  inspo  from  itsyuyan  on  instagram  ,  but  she  also  loves  to  dress  in  a  quality  th*t  dress  when  she  had  the  chance  to  NFJDBSFDS  .  i  love  jennie’s  long  hair  ,  so  nina’s  own  is  canon  to  that  ,  and  she  definitely  had  the  iconic  e-girl  streaks  .  

iv  .  wanted  connections  .

i  would  love  to  have  literally  anything  that  ya’ll  throw  at  me  !  some  basics  that  i’d  like  to  write  out  are  best  friends  ,  academic  rivals  ,  friends  with  benefits  ,  confidant(s)  ,  frenemies  ,  good  /  bad  influence  ,  one  night  stand(s)  ,  flirtationship  ,  enemies  with  benefits  ,  and  a  current  or  ex  fling  !

i  love  a  good  women  loving  women  scenario  ,  so  i’d  like  to  have  an  ex  girlfriend  for  her  !  i  see  them  as  being  on  good  terms  and  they  simply  drifted  apart  ,  but  they’re  really  close  !  sometimes  they  can  get  a  little  touchy  feely  with  one  another  so  hello  👀  .

i  would  die  for  literally  any  form  of  angst  that  you  could  possibly  think  of  ? angsty  friends  ,  angsty  exes  ,  angsty  anything  .  i  love  to  put  myself  through  misery  so  honestly  …  bury  me  six  feet  under  and  i  will  literally  thank  you  .

all  aboard  the  heartbreak  train  ! this  ties  back  into  my  love  for  angst  ,  but  some  form  of  an  ex  or  maybe  even  someone  who  she  go  close  to  but  it  didn’t  really  work  out  ?  

maybe  even  a  will  they  won’t  they ? but  essentially  ,  clearly  these  two  have  feelings  but  for  some  reason  things  didn’t  work  out  for  them  and  now  they’re  probably  in  a  limbo  or  trying  to  determine  where  they’re  headed  but  they  absolutely  refuse  to  talk  about  it ! all  of  their  friends  notice  but  they  blow  them  off  and  ok  let  me  relax  and  actually  allow  us  to  plot  ,  but  just  some  potential  ideas  !

i  will  have  a  desired  relations  tag  that  i’ll  be  updating  as  frequently  as  i  can  ,  but  if  none  of  these  work  for  you  or  if  you  have  something  you  see  araminta  filling  ,  then  please  let  me  know  ! we  can  totally  brainstorm  or  if  you  want  ,  then  we  can  work  on  chemistry !

[falloutboywife]

I stopped taking my medication back in like. February because I was on it consistently for almost four years and I figured I had adjusted well enough to where I didn't need it anymore, but suffice to say that the reasons my medication was necessary are coming back in full force and destroying my life again. so even if the way I'm acting now is reminiscent of the behavior that got me put on it to begin with, at least its still nowhere near as intense, but its still enough to make me miserable

so like after a ton of bullshit with the doctors office I finally got refills on my prescriptions but one won't be able to be filled until tomorrow because the pharmacy was out of stock, and right now its just the one. I was taking 5mg of the mood stabilizers and 5mg of the antidepressants but after years of the mood stabilizers sedating and exhausting me I asked him to cut that in half and double the antidepressants, but now that I'm struggling again I'm back to he 5mg of the mood stabilizer and 10mg of the antidepressants and fellas

lemme just say

that the way my body feels physically right now is exactly why I stopped taking the medication to begin wifh LMAO I was diagnosed with bipolar when I was 14 and every mood stabilizer has always fucking made me exhausted, when I was in the 9th grade and on this experimental drug called geodon I seriously would fall asleep while standing up for the national anthem and I slept in gym class. literally I would sleep in fucking gym class, please do not ask me how I managed it but 9th grade was a miserable time

and the shit im on now isn't as powerful in that aspect but it generally is very normal for me to sleep for like at least 12 hours a day, and for a while getting up before 10am was almost physically impossible. I understand now though that that's just the side effect of being on this, and I do know the benefits greatly outweigh the detriments but it still really fucking sucks LOL

and the thing is I'm not even on the mood stabilizers yet (; this is just the antidepressants babey

but even if i am very tired, I'm already feeling more relaxed and mellowed out. its easier for me to just sit alone with my thoughts without it immediately going to something very nihilistic or morbid, even when a conversation earlier felt like it was headed in that direction. I've been struggling a lot with my depression ever since I lost my childhood cat back in June, and it feels like its only been getting worse in the last year despite having been on medication for a lot of that time. but I'm in a better environment with better people and things are starting to look up for me, and for a long time I was saying how my depression is very much a result of the environment and circumstance I found myself in back in Ohio.

its interesting how now that I'm out of that environment, my depressed thoughts are manifesting in much darker ways, but thats something for a therapist to help me with and not a personal blog post on tumblr dot com where I should be sitting there thinking about babystump's dsl instead of talking about how I'm trying to hate my life less. I have a lot of posts like these saved in my drafts because this is where I get my thoughts out when I feel too bad bothering my friends with this kind of shit but I'm posting this one because its more positive and its an update on how I've been doing I guess for those this applies to

[mikauzoran]

Lukadrien: Song of the Sun: Chapter Fifteen

@lukadrien-june

Song of the Sun: Chapter Fifteen: Cuddles

Luka wasn’t really in a good mood.

His mother had been getting on his case again about how, despite Luka and Adrien having recently celebrated their first anniversary of dating, Adrien was still deep in the closet and not even telling his closest friends that he had a boyfriend.

“I don’t like it,” Anarka snorted. “Adrien’s a sweet boy, and I like him, but I don’t like what he’s doing to you.”

Luka put down his guitar and crossed his arms. “Regrettably, Adrien isn’t doing anything to me. We’re taking things super slow.”

Anarka rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean, Luc. I’m talking about when he’s done experimenting and decides he wants to be straight again. He’s going to pretend none of this ever happened, that you never meant anything to him, and it’s going to break your heart. I don’t like it.”

“Maman,” Luka growled through gritted teeth. “Adrien would never do that. He loves me.”

Anarka rolled her eyes. “No. You love him, and that’s why you’re blind to what he’s doing. If he loved you, he’d introduce you to his family. He’d be seen with you in public. Luka, I’m telling you, he’s not treating you right. You deserve better.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Maman,” Luka snapped, snatching up his guitar and storming off, going to lounge topside in one of the deckchairs at the prow of the ship.

Upon reflection, Luka realized that his mother was worried and only wanted to protect him. She had no way of knowing how in earnest Adrien was, and even Luka had to admit that it looked bad when you dated for a year and were still no closer to meeting your boyfriend’s family and friends.

Anarka just didn’t understand how much Adrien stood to lose. Adrien was a celebrity with very little privacy. In a way, Adrien was protecting Luka by not publicly acknowledging their relationship.

It wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t as bad as it looked from the outside either.

Luka believed in Adrien. There was no reason to doubt his love.

Luka took a deep inhale and breathed out the negative feelings caused by the argument with his mother. After several more cleansing breaths, Luka lifted his acoustic guitar into position and began to play while he waited for Adrien to arrive.

The warm, early-September air ran its fingers through Luka’s hair and carried the melody off across the Seine.

 “You’re late,” Luka observed, setting his guitar aside when Chat Noir finally landed on the ship’s deck. “Is everything okay?”

Chat shook his head, letting it hang in shame. Even his cat ears drooped, and his tail hang limp. He looked like he was going to cry.

Luka pushed himself up, going to his boyfriend, pulling Adrien into a hug. “P5, what’s the matter? Do you need to talk?”

“Y-Your room,” Chat choked, voice scratchy and raw, as if he’d already been crying.

Luka gave his boyfriend a squeeze and then let go so that he could slip his hand into Chat’s and thread their fingers together as they made their way below deck.

Adrien detransformed in the stairwell, and Luka could make out hastily applied makeup covering up, no doubt, a blotchy complexion.

Anarka was still in the main cabin reading a magazine when they came down.

Luka nodded, muttering a, “Sorry for earlier” just as Adrien replied lifelessly, “Hi, Capitaine.”

Anarka took a deep breath and shook her head. “And I’m sorry for upsetting you. I love you, so I worry, Luc,” she replied with a sigh and then turned to Adrien to nod, her tone noticeably cooler. “Hello, Adrien.”

Luka ushered Adrien into his room before Anarka could cause a scene. Adrien was obviously already upset, and he didn’t need to be pressured and guilt-tripped into coming out when that wasn’t something he was ready to do.

Adrien slipped off his shoes and collapsed onto the bed.

Luka finally got an eyeful of how bad Adrien looked. The makeup coverup job was shoddy, like Adrien had started applying concealer but then given up in the middle.

Luka toed his own shoes off, letting them rest where they fell as he too got up onto the bed, climbing over Adrien so that he was on his own side and Adrien was in the spot he had claimed as his own nearly two years before.

Luka wrapped his arms around Adrien, pulling him into a loose hug. “You okay?” he whispered.

Adrien shook his head, lips pressing together as his brow scrunched up, looking like he was about to cry again.

Luka leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Adrien’s temple. “Talk to me, Angel. What is it?”

“It’s stu-pid,” Adrien choked.

“Nothing that upsets you is ever stupid,” Luka assured, repeating, “Talk to me. Is this about your father?”

Adrien tensed and nodded. “He had me play the pieces I’m working on in my piano lessons. I…I’m such a failure.”

Finally the tears started to fall.

“Adrien, no,” Luka cooed, tightening his embrace and nuzzling Adrien’s hair. “Did he tell you that? He’s wrong.”

“I-I made all kinds of mistakes, and my interpretation wasn’t good. There were parts I couldn’t play up to tempo, and—It was just a mess, Luka,” Adrien laughed bitterly, burying his face in Luka’s shoulder to hide his shame. “I’m a mess. Father…he was so disappointed. He didn’t yell or anything. He just shook his head and said…he said…my performance was unworthy of the name A-Agreste…and that he’d expected better.”

Adrien flinched as if his father’s judgment was being delivered again in that moment.

“I’m such a failure,” Adrien muttered. “I can’t do anything right.”

Luka pulled back, propping himself up so that Adrien could see his face. He cupped Adrien’s cheek in his hand and whispered, “Shhh. None of that. You need to stop telling yourself those hurtful lies, Adrien. None of it’s true. You’re not a failure, and there are plenty of things that you can do right.”

Adrien shook his head, trying to look away.

Luka forced Adrien to meet his earnest eyes. “You’re not a failure,” he repeated firmly. “Maybe you weren’t able to play to your father’s standards tonight, but that doesn’t have anything to do with you in the long run or you as a person. Tonight didn’t go well; that doesn’t mean that it will never go well.”

Adrien shook his head. “I did my best. I’ve been practicing these pieces ad nauseum for weeks, and that was the best I could do. I don’t think I can do any better.”

Luka’s eyebrows slanted into a frown. “What pieces are you playing?”

Adrien sighed in exhaustion just thinking about the songs. “Baba Yaga and The Great Gate of Kiev from Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition and Balakirev’s Islamey.”

Luka’s jaw dropped in surprise for a second before he clenched it in anger at Gabriel Agreste. “Adrien, those pieces are hard.”

Adrien scoffed. “Tell me about it.”

“No.” Luka shook his head. “Those pieces are challenging for professionals. Islamey is literally a virtuosic show-off piece, and Baba Yaga has some difficult passages too. It’s not like The Great Gate of Kiev is a walk in the park either. Those are hard pieces, Adrien.”

“Yes,” Adrien replied, losing patience. “I know. I’ve been playing them until my fingers feel like they’re about ready to fall off. In my despair, I stare at the notes on the page until they blur together and lose all meaning. I think I get that what I’m playing is hard, Luka, but thank you for confirming my assessment.”

Luka shook his head again, replying in a soft, soothing tone. “My Love.”

Adrien’s annoyance faded as colour pooled in his cheeks at the term of endearment. Adrien loved being Luka’s “Love”.

“What I’m trying to say is that your father is being cruel and unreasonable expecting you to play at a professional level. You trying your best is more than good enough. It’s more than what should be expected. He should be proud of you for doing so well on such difficult pieces,” Luka explained gently.

“…Really?” Adrien was afraid to believe those kind, compassionate words.

Luka nodded. “Even though your performance wasn’t quote, unquote ‘perfect’, your father should have been proud of you for all of the hard work you’ve been putting in to even get to that point with the pieces. I know you’ve been learning piano since you were four, and I know there are people out there your age who play professionally already, but you weren’t born to be a professional pianist, and that’s not something you even want. The fact that you are this good at a hobby is astounding, Adrien. P5, you are amazing. You take my breath away with how amazing you are.”

Adrien laughed softly, Luka’s words going to his head and making him dizzy. “Really? You really think so?” He reached up to wipe the tears from his cheek.

“Definitely,” Luka breathed, pressing a kiss to Adrien’s forehead. “You’re such a hard worker and an extremely talented musician. You inspire me, Adrien. Your diligence and discipline are extraordinary, and your music is so authentic and full of emotion. The way you interpret pieces makes me see them in ways I’d never heard them before. You give new meaning to pieces that have been around for two hundred years, and I love your playing style. You’re not a failure just because you don’t live up to your father’s expectations. You’re a success because other people can connect with and find themselves in the music you make. You make people feel your music. You make me feel when I listen to you, and being able to touch someone like that is a remarkable talent…so get your father’s voice out of your head. You’re amazing.”

“Yeah?” Adrien whispered, leaning in until his forehead met Luka’s and their breath mingled together.

“Yeah,” Luka confirmed, sealing it with a kiss.

[chilling-seavey]

Lucy Elizabeth Seavey was born on June 24th, 2024 at 1:56pm, brought calmly into the world from the comfort of home. She was 7lbs 11oz and 20 inches long with a full head of light blonde hair and bright blue eyes and the moment she breathed her first breath, her parents fell just in love with her than they had with her two older sisters – especially Daniel who cried his eyes out when she was born.

Florence and Daniel had two babies well before they got married yet alone engaged as life had a few unplanned tricks up its sleeve but, on their wedding night, the newlyweds agreed that they wanted one more baby; their one chance to things ‘the right way’. So they came back home from their honeymoon pregnant and unbelievably in love and spent the next few months preparing their apartment for their third child’s arrival. After two stressful pregnancies, Florence wanted nothing but the epitome of calm for this last one so they worked with a midwife and got a homebirth set up for whenever baby girl #3 was set to arrive. Lucy’s birth story can be found here if you’re interested!

For the other two girls, Florence had chosen their names since she was technically a single mother at the time of the birth certificate signings, but with Lucy, Daniel and Florence went through list after list together almost every night before bed to find the perfect name together. By now you know that Daniel had a bit of a music obsession and he was really searching for a name that meant just as much to him that Florence liked as well. Lucy was named after a song by The Beatles (Daniel’s favourite band), Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, which Daniel did not know was about LSD until his daughter was already a year old. He had a bit of a mental breakdown over that: “I named my baby daughter after a hallucinogenic drug?! What kind of father does that?!”. Elizabeth was simply another old fashion regal name that Florence adored and it flowed so nicely with her first name. Lucy Elizabeth; their littlest princess.

It was already a short name so there wasn’t much room for nicknames but she was Lucy Lu to her family and Lu-Lu to her sisters, princess to Daniel for reasons stated above – she was their littlest princess and Daniel’s own sweet little mini me. She might have had her mother’s blonde hair but she had Daniel’s eyes, nose, and infectious smile…definitely a Seavey with those beautiful genes.

Lucy had always been an independent girl; she was the earliest of her sisters to walk and talk, and her favourite phrase as a baby and toddler was “me do” as she was determined to do things herself. Despite this fierce independence of hers, Lucy always held her family close and loved to spend time with them – Christmas had always been her favourite time of the year since they got to visit Daniel’s parents and siblings in Vancouver. She was a sociable girl and loved to talk since the moment she could, making up all sorts of stories through every part of her day, especially to Daniel. They called Lucy ‘Daniel’s Shadow’ because she was always rushing after him wherever he went from the day she could walk (and even before that as she always demanded to be picked up by him). The poor man could hardly go to the bathroom without the baby toddling after him. He learned to lock the door the hard way.

When it came to her interests, Lucy was the daughter who had a knack for music, she was Daniel’s little musical prodigy. He tried to get all of his girls interested in at least piano from a young age but Clementine got bored of it too easily and Penelope just could not get it right…with Lucy, Daniel went in to their first home lesson with low hopes but she caught on almost right away; even Florence was shocked at how easily it came to her pre-school daughter. Of course, this was a dangerous game as she often woke up in the middle of the night to Daniel and four-year-old Lucy sat at the grand piano in the living room at 3am punching out a few tunes in their pyjamas. He just couldn’t help himself.

Daniel took it upon himself to teach Lucy everything that he knew about music and he brought her to his studio often to not only give her music lessons but teach her about producing as she got older. By the time she was fourteen, Tuesdays and Thursdays after school were the days when Lucy would take the subway to the studio and spend the remainder of Daniel’s workday working with him and making music. It was the reason why Clementine and Penelope always called Lucy his favourite child. But Daniel didn’t have a favourite; he loved all his girls the exact same. He just had an extra thing to connect with Lucy through. Lucy had started piano lessons by age four, guitar at seven, cello at nine, and singing lessons off and on throughout her elementary school years and into high school; all taught to her by her father which definitely saved the family a lot of money. In high school, she was in the performing arts program for instrumental music (she played cello in the band but could also pick up the flute if they needed) and theatre. She dabbled in a little dance as she grew up too; ballet, tap, and musical theatre. She really gave multi-talented Clementine a run for her money sometimes. High school allowed her to really blossom in theatre, always in awe by musical films and live theatre on their one family trip to New York and she saw her first Broadway show. Daniel was her go to for music but her Uncle Christian was her go to for acting since he majored in it in college himself and Lucy called him often for advice or video chatted him to run lines for her school plays.

School wasn’t really Lucy’s first priority other than the arts. She did reasonably well in school but could have really shone if she applied herself; and she got into arguments with Florence a lot about it, her mother trying hard to get her to put the same amount of dedication into her school work that she put into her music. English and math and science and the sort never interested Lucy though, and she could never bring herself to work hard in those generic subjects since all she wanted to do in life was musical theatre; a perfect mesh of her music and her acting. She begged her parents to let her apply to art schools for university to major in musical theatre but they were concerned because it wasn’t a very promising career for post-graduation. On their trip to Vancouver for Christmas for her senior year, Lucy confided in Christian and he woke up at 4am one day to sneak her out across the bay to the city of Victoria to tour the Canadian College of Performing Arts and be back in time for supper. Lucy absolutely fell in love with the campus and the program and she came back to her grandparents’ house absolute beaming and thrusting the pamphlets at her parents, rushing out everything she learned and planned from the tour. Christian’s cheeky grin at his brother and sister-in-law’s unimpressed glares was magazine worthy. So Lucy moved to BC the following year to major in musical theatre at CCPA.

Lucy was very generous, charming, and really too sweet for her own good. She was fiercely independent and sociable and always had lots of friends as she loved being kind to everyone. She always felt emotions strongly which often allowed for harsh mood swings is someone questioned her character, passions, or her family. She loved being surrounded by people and tended to fall in love the ‘fastest’ out of her sisters. She had a few boyfriends while growing up, her most serious one during her senior year was her prom date and left her with a pregnancy scare at nearly eighteen and Daniel almost died and went to heaven when she came to her parents crying in fear; not only because that was his little girl but because her boyfriend always reminded him of Florence’s jerk off of an ex, Matt. Thankfully, all was well, the pregnancy test was negative, and Lucy moved across the country for school. She had a few quick romances over there, often fueled by sudden passion and momentary infatuation rather than love per se but she fell hard for her university dance coach, Xavier, in third year. He was only a few years older than her and both of them seemed to have an attraction they couldn’t deny, but Lucy let him chase her for a bit before they finally went on a few dates and made it official. Daniel was not impressed that he was the last one to find out about that and through his brother, Tyler, of all people. Since when did Tyler know more about his daughter’s life than he did? Regardless, Xavier was a good guy and when Lucy brought him home one summer, Florence and Daniel knew they were a perfect match.

For those of you interested in astrology, Lucy is a Cancer Sun, Aquarius Moon, and Libra Rising.

She is the most religious out of her family and even as a kid would shout “Thank you, God!” before eating her dinner. Her favourite colour is gold or literally anything that sparkles, she loves all genres of music but has a secret playlist of early 2000s punk rock, she has her parents’ initials tattooed on her ankle, and her favourite meal always has been chicken nuggets and she lives off of them in university.

Lucy’s songs are:

Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds by The Beatles

Elizabeth by Julia Jacklin

Face Claims:

Baby Lucy’s face-claim is Pose LaBrant (@/posierayne on Instagram). These photos are not mine, all credit belongs to her

Teenage Lucy’s face-claim (ABM2 Era) is Mackenzie True (@/macktrue on Instagram). These photos are not mine, all credit belongs to her

[coridallasmultipass]

Vent / personal / tmi / menstruation / endometriosis / long post ... Im so fucking sick of healthcare professionals telling me to just wait it out and pushing my problems onto other doctors I just got my 5th shot of lupron and have 1 more next month. On my appointment last week i told the gyn how ive been having much more cramping and tissue but not blood coming out regularly and he said its possible the combined lupron and norethindrone are making my uterine lining too thin, and to stop the norethindrone (it was being prescribed to help any menopause-like side effects the lupron can have) And less than 24 hours after my first missed dose i get a full blown period complete with extreme mood swings and depression Im not bleeding this week but im still cramping and the mood swings are so fucking bad, being chronically ill and not getting enough relief from any of my medications is making all of this worse but im literally breaking down over any little thing The lupron and norethindrone combined i guess have been suppressing all my emotions bc this is what it was like on the daily before i started it (just not as bad) which is telling me that none of my psych meds are working but whatever I just now got off the phone with my psych and he said he doesnt want to do anything with my meds or dosing bc he says its related to hormones and thats what my gyn needs to address and i Need To Wait im fucking sick of waiting i cant do this ive been waiting since last august!!!!!!! I now have to wait 2 more whole months of mood swings until i can have another appointment with him hes refused to actually screen me for adhd too and says its bc im An Artist type that im not able to sit down and draw anything since last fall like i fucking hate him and he never gets my name or pronouns right and i cant go see a new psych bc of all the closures and i dont wanna call my gyn bc he said if things get worse i need to have a pelvic ultrasound done again and i cant do it!!! I fucking cant do it it hurts too much im too traumatized from depoprovera and mirena that i cant even touch myself without extreme dysphoria and fear that im going to cramp Its killing me that as someone who was so personally sexual to completely be traumatized from the road to an endometriosis diagnosis that i can no longer masturbate or even talk about sex without anxiety and being trans on top of it hurts even more Next gyn appt is my last injection of lupron and im really gonna push to plan for a partial hysterectomy (i only had endo cysts on the back of my uterus but it was 100% confirmed with surgery and biopsy) so i hope it will help so i can stop taking all these fucking hormonal medications like Before being diagnosed i was really planning on going on testosterone but now im too scared because i feel like it would really fuck up my health problems more - mentally and physically Ive given up on passing and am trying to focus on body acceptance especially now that ove had rapid weight gain that isnt being addressed by any of ky doctors i bring it up to God im just trying to vent here but seriously Do not take the diagnosis of endometriosis lightly its super serious to go forth with any treatments and you really have to commit to long term treatments and its a gamble either way For me not starting any treatments was unacceptable i needed help with extreme monthly periods and all forms of birth control ive tried exacerbated symptoms and never stopped bleeding - i literally cannot personally recommend any form of medical birth control bc every one has fucked me over, many different pills at different points in my life, shot (depoprovera gave me debilitating cramps and i bled non stop all 3 months which started this whole journey to diagnosis), iud (iud was the worst i had to go to the er bc the gyn refused to give me pain meds and i was screaming in pain a few hours later unBle to move or think - i really cannot stress enough how painful and long insertion is like it was the longest 5-10 minutes of my life crying while it felt like a knife going through me) I really dont want that ultrasound tho ffs i had to get the first one done while i was in full force cramps during my depoprovera shot and the pelvic ultrasound rod is humongous and they dig it around inside you (i already had a painful and hard time trying to have pleasurable penetration even by myself or with partners) and it takes like 40 minutes of jumbling around your insides for them to document every thing like at least at that time i was only like 2 months from my last time jerking off but now its been almost 6 months of me not even thinking about putting more than one finger in to clean myself in the shower like to go right into an huge ultrasound is going to be so painful and anxiety inducing and i cant do it id rather go straight into surgery My biggest phobias have to do with pain around this part of my anatomy i cannot stress enough how long ive wanted a hysterectomy just so i dont have to fear accidentally getting p r e g... like i would literally kms... i would probably be able to handle the pain of cutting off my arm with a rusty knife better than extreme cramping pain like i had with the iud or ultrasound its such a phobia and now its source of trauma for me from everything ive gone through the last 6 months Having to readjust my life goals from doing p o r n as a hobby and wanting to transition and be who i am, to becoming a vegetable and trying to cope with the fact that i cant ever transition how i hoped Everything just really sucks for me right now and i have literally no social life any more, not even online bc im so stressed about my health and my attention is so bad i cant focus on a convo online, my laptop is about at its grave so all i have is a phone and xbox with bare minimum internet speed.. i live in the middle of nowhere and cant get my license bc the person who was guiding me to drive is an essential worker in a hospital so i cant go in their car any more... im just so fucking alone i cant do anything except break my back gardening and then cry about it later bc my fucking meds dont fucking work!!!!!!!!! Oh thats another thing im also dealing with fucking gerd on top of all this and i cant get the proceedure i need done to confirm if i need surgery or not bc the fucking lockdown!!!! So im stuck taking pantoprazole (been trying similar meds since march 2019 and its currently june 2020!!!!!!) I just want to eat tomatoes and chocolate again it fucking kills me if i dont take pantoprazole i will lose my voice and have such a sore throat and ears from the stomach acid and i know im gonna have to stop it for 2 weeks for one of the tests i need done and its going to be literal hell like it feels worse than strep throat ill probably do the thing where i start choking and coughing at night bc it gets so bad Im a fucking mess like why couldnt all of this happen one at a time I really want to get my belly pierced again bc i feel so naked without it but i cant bc i probably will be having 2 surgeries once covid blows over (if it ever does) Sorry for taking up so much dash space im just really hurting and need some outlet bc therapy isnt helping rn

[serenagaywaterford]

was I the only one who thought tuello was going to mention the 2x10 rape and not the nick thing when he arrested serena??? like, obviously I understand the thing with nick was rape regardless, but she did ask them both and june would've ended up in the colonies had she not gotten pregnant while the 2x10 rape doesn't really have any sustainable justification behind it. I don't see "I was in a mood and wanted the baby to come faster" working in court (1/2)

and I guess you can argue there's no way to prove that that rape happened, but serena got arrested before any paternal test was done so it seems as if fred's word is enough?? I guess they can get the test done later and confirm it, but I don't know, I feel like there's a way out of this for serena whilst I don't think there would've been a way out if they had proof of what happened in 2x10. I just find this flimsy. (2/2)

---

No, you weren’t! I honestly... I thought it was going to be about her actual war crimes, like her blatant terrorism against the US, conspiracy to blow up state capitols, and overthrowing a democratic government via war. But hey, that’s too easy lol. Like, why on earth Fred wouldn’t turn her in for THAT, which are HUGE crimes that the ICC/Americans/etc would actually be interested in is beyond me. Oh wait, no it’s not, cos this is The Handmaid’s Tale and they don’t know shit about law or politics, or at this point common fucking sense. It’s a soap opera now.

I’m just so irritated by that whole “Let’s arrest Serena for rape!” concept because it’s entirely based on a) an individual and singular crime against a single person on foreign (sovereign) soil; not a war crime (so why the ICC would have ANYTHING to do with it is beyond me) and b) FRED WATERFORD’S WORD. Because suddenly they believe everything an admitted war criminal is saying against the woman who literally turned him in???? No, nothing suspect about that at all.

(The American government may have an interest because they do get involved in individual crimes against Americans on foreign soil. But then it gets into whether June is still an American, legally. And whether Serena is. Which is super confusing and murky. I’d say June is, and Serena likely isn’t since she probably renounced her US citizenship, but I’m also not a legal scholar or lawyer. And whether the international community even considers Gilead its own country, or just some type of military occupation on American soil. SO COMPLICATED. This is why the show should have just stayed away from all of this trash.)

I mean, we know Fred’s not lying about what happened to June then but the fact Tuello & Co. just take his word at face value with NO corroboration is absolutely fucking mental. 

Not to mention, how the FUCK does Fred even know about that? All he knows is that June got pregnant with Nick’s baby. Was he secretly listening the entire time to everything Serena has said? Cos, let’s take a step back for a second and think rationally about how the hell Fred would have access to that information lol. Serena, from what we saw, was incredibly discreet about setting it up. Was Fred actually lurking in her bushes when she talked to June about it? Was he around when Serena supposedly spoke to Nick about it? (We don’t know where that was but probably either in Nick’s apartment or in the car.) So, does Fred actually have the whole house bugged? LOLOLOLOL. Even if he saw Serena bringing June out to Nick’s apartment, he has no idea what anybody’s thoughts or feelings were about that. Serena and June could have easily been in on it together, and there was no rape involved at all! He doesn’t know that. Did he sneak up to Nick’s second floor window and watch how fucking WEIRD that whole thing was? LMAO.

To me, the fact Fred knows all that is a fucking big plot hole. He didn’t before. But suddenly he knows Serena set up Offred’s rape by Nick? Did she tell him that? Cos that would be insane of Serena to do and completely OOC. All Serena’s said is that “HA HA! The baby isn’t yours, you manky chode!”

Anyway...

To be frank, I have a post--quite a long one--sitting in my drafts about how incredibly asinine and unrealistic that charge against Serena is as a “war crime”, not to mention how weak it is just from a legal standpoint, even if we would take it as a regular rape charge. (She would literally never be found guilty, lbr. There is no solid legal basis for it (there is a flimsy one) and when you consider her defense--which is way more solid than the charge--the chances of anybody ever prosecuting her for that, let alone convicting her, are so incredibly thin, even if it was just as a regular rape crime, not a war crime.) She’d be more likely charged with something like sex trafficking or procuring (prostitution) or coercion or accessory to rape and/or conspiracy to rape. (And she’s clearly guilty of those things). Not the rape itself. It’s so! fucking! stupid! Sex trafficking would be SO much more solid of a charge cos essentially that is what she did...

She didn’t rape June in that instance much more than she murdered those kids Fred shot in the woods. She’s a shitty fucking person for putting that idea in his head, and basically saying, “Go do this for me, you pathetic little man” but she didn’t actually say the words, nor did she commit the actual crime herself. (Heyyyyaaa Lady Macbeth!) Both Fred and Nick were acting of their own free will. 

(Honestly, I will go on forever about how Nick is NOT some innocent, helpless creature. He’s a MAN (aka automatic superiority over any woman), and an EYE (AN EYE, YOU GUYS!!!! The most elite of the Gilead intelligence forces!!!), and to refuse Serena’s request would be EXPLICITLY FOLLOWING THE LAWS OF GILEAD and there is NO WAY he would ever, ever be punished by Gilead for that lmao--for following the law. If he reported Serena to Fred or even Pryce, Serena would be fucking punished--probably with death or Colonies (which is just prolonged death). And he’d have June’s supporting testimony too! What part of this misogynistic fascist state are you people missing? A lowly woman trying to make a man break the law and defile another man’s property?! HAHAHAHA. As if they’d take Serena’s side. Nick is a fucking Eye. There are instances where they do take a woman’s side, like with Janine’s random accusation--but significantly: Warren was BREAKING the law, not upholding it as Nick refusing to rape Offred and turning Serena in would have been following the law. To me, it never ever made sense that the men would just turn on their own like that over a literally mentally-ill Handmaid’s suicidal admission. I think, when it comes down to it, Naomi’s contribution made it “two witnesses” to the crime. Like, if you look at most religious texts or cult texts, they generally require more than just the victim. Some require at least 2, some 3 individuals. So for Gilead to require nothing but victim outcry is bonkers and not consistent with the type of society they claim they’ve built in the series. BUT ANYWAY, that’s a big digression...

Like miss me with that complete utter rape-apologist bullshit. He literally took advantage of the situation to put his dick inside a woman who did not essentially consent to it in that particular situation. Or, if you’re going to argue she did cos she wuvs Nick and wanted to anyway, then your case against Serena falls apart too.)

The only thing I don’t see as being up for debate is that June was raped. That’s it. That is clear and certain. It’s fact. June was raped in that apartment. (She’s raped a lot, obviously, but this was also rape. Nothing else.)

And the creepy part is by doing that she actually did save June’s life. Which is all shades of massively fucked up, and probably not her intention, but here we are. And it seems to be a big part of why June went along with the plan. If Serena hadn’t set up a rapey fuck session for Nick (which he LITERALLY COULD HAVE SAID NO TO AT ANY TIME WITH ZERO CONSEQUENCES and they could have fucked completely consentually another time), June never would have started sleeping with Nick (they had almost 2 years and never made a move on each other lbr), never would have become pregnant, and in a few months would have been sent off to the Colonies to rot. Serena is just going around saving June’s life and not even trying to lmao. Stupid gross idiot. Yes, June agreed under threat of death otherwise. So, that is NOT consent in any universe. If you must do it for survival, it’s rape. If you’re gonna die or agree to sex, that’s rape. Would she have agreed to get raped by Nick if the threat of the Colonies was not hanging over her head? No. Probably not. And Serena used that for her own ends. There is no way Serena is not a shitty criminal person for what she set up. But it’s also not a fucking crime against humanity, by definition.

So, anyway, without going into all the complexities and bullshit about Nick’s role any further, Serena’s role, etc in all this, it’s just absolutely motherfucking insane that any international law enforcement agency would charge Serena with THAT based on the word of a scorned husband who is also a massive rapist, liar, abuser, and war criminal himself. Like, give me a fucking break already.

And... I’m not gonna lie... if this was even remotely based on history/reality, they would turn a blind eye to anything Serena has done, especially if it was on such a small scale as one instance of sex trafficking. Sounds terrible to put it that way, but that is how these things roll. She’s a small little fish, comparatively. In the grand scheme of things, she’s FAR more valuable as a witness/asset against the Big Fish (Fred) and as a tool for their anti-Gileadean use. Unless they had significant evidence about ALL her crimes. She’s so much more useful as someone who has direct experience and witness to the entire rise of Gilead, including all the massive fucking terrorist crimes against an entire government and mass murders, that Fred et al. committed. To go after Serena so soon is just kneecapping their own damn case against Fred/Gilead lmao.

[This is where the rumours about Rita come in, but here’s the thing, Serena was already granted immunity for what she did under the guise of being a “Wife”. And seriously, what does Rita really know anyway? Serena’s smacked some people around. She’s locked June in her room. She makes June cry and drink gross smoothies. She helps with the Ceremony. She--with the entire system--forced surrogacy and basically kidnapped a baby. Those things, from what I can tell, are perfectly legal in Gilead for a Wife to do, just like it’s perfectly legal for Fred to whip the shit out of Serena--and Serena has been granted immunity for that shit (which is sorta funny in a way cos she basically used the Nuremberg defense, but it’s layered because she was actually a victim of Gilead too. Tricky shit). 

Now, that 2x10 rape is pretty fucking awful (and likely NOT Gilead-legal) and I’m almost certain Rita would have known about that in some way--but she also wasn’t a direct witness. But maybe she doesn’t? It would be fucking stupid of the Waterfords to be like, “Hurr durr let’s illegally pregnancy rape the Handmaid with a Martha an/or Guardian around even tho it comes with a punishment of DEATH!” But I suppose they are not exactly the sharpest tools in the shed either... 

Maybe she knows about the Rapey Sex Date Serena set up for Nick, maybe not, also not a witness to it. We can make assumptions about what Rita knows and doesn’t know, but also... like, none of that matters? (Yet.) Those are just regular fucking crimes on foreign soil and the American and Canadian governments have no jurisdiction to prosecuting them. War crimes require different criteria and Serena smacking Rita in the face isn’t a war crime. It’s shitty assault, but not something any international body would EVER go after.]

Anyway, the show is stupid af for suggesting they’d go after Serena for that singular instance of rape as a war crime. Crimes against humanity--of which YES sexual slavery (sex trafficking in this way) is--require widespread and/or systematic implementation. Serena was NOT going around making all Guardians rape Handmaids for her to get a baby. (Gilead however, and FRED WATERFORD specifically, were directly responsible for the SYSTEM of massive sexual slavery that they created AND maintained. Serena didn’t even come up with the Handmaid idea--THAT WAS THE MEN IN THAT DAMN CAR (Hi Nick, you were there too!).) 

Like... ugh. Stick with what you know, THT. Cos clearly it isn’t anything remotely in the legal realm.

But hey, they had to make up some way to either put Serena on trial for an entire season (YAWNNNNN), or send her back to Gilead. If it’s for the latter reason, and it means we’ll revisit the June/Serena dynamic as the core component of the show, then I’ll let it slide but if it’s to set up the Miller Wet Dream Trial Season and keep Fred/Serena forced together, then I’m livid.

Not that I should care at all considering how many times I’ve said I’m not even watching it anymore, heh.

[let-it-raines]

Second in Command (Epilogue - Part 6)

Summary: Life as the “spare to the heir” isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be when you’re the supposed screw-up of the family, but people don’t know what really happens behind closed doors.

Rating: Mature

A/N: And we begin with a flashback (ending with the double line break) with a chapter that comes around full circle in several ways :D

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr Chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14| 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

Epilogue Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Tag list: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @kmomof4 @wellhellotragic  @ekr032-blog-blog @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @a-faekindagirl @mayquita @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @kristi555 @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @alys07 @andiirivera

She hears his footsteps making their way down the hall, the still slightly unfamiliar layout of his house (or apartment as he calls it even if this is definitely not an apartment, the multiple stories and staircases disagreeing with her definition of the term) making it difficult to discern where exactly he is until he’s right outside of the door, the noises completely stopping as Killian presumably halts just outside, only the door standing between them. He wants to come inside, she already knows, but he’s likely being hesitant because of her mood today. She doesn’t blame him. She wouldn’t want to be the one to have to navigate talking to her today either. She doesn’t even really want to be her right now.

It’s not often that she has reason to hide herself away, to turn off the lights and cover herself with piles of blankets in a feeble attempt to keep the world away from her. But they’re just blankets, and they only keep away the cold. They don’t keep away the warring thoughts in her mind, the ones she’s kept at bay for years now. If anything, locking herself away like this has allowed her thoughts to creep free from their cages and to fester in their freedom, multiplying and expanding into demons that she shouldn’t have to fight alone.

But then the door knob turns, the hinges on the heavy wooden frame making the slightest bit of noise, and she sees her boyfriend’s head pop in, a sullen look on his face. She’s not alone, hasn’t been so in years, and thinking that she needed to fight this by herself was a mistake. She knew it the minute she told Killian not to follow her when she came home last night.

“Hey, can I come in?”

“It’s your bedroom.”

“Emma,” he sighs, taking a step inside and closing the door behind him, “we have to talk eventually.”

“I just needed a day to myself. I don’t really want to talk to anyone.”

So maybe old habits die hard, and maybe as much as she wants a support system, she doesn’t actually want to talk about this anymore. It’s all they ever seem to talk about.

“I understand that, love, but you’ve been holed up in here since yesterday.”

She groans, throwing her head back against the pillow before sitting up and resting her back against the headboard, bringing the comforter with her so that she’s still wrapped in its warmth. It only takes a nod of her head for Killian to get the hint that it’s okay for him to come sit down, and he quickly steps over to the bed and settles down onto his side, keeping noticeable space between them.

They’re silent for seconds that stretch into minutes. Killian sits quietly with his ankles crossed and hands folded together in his lap, and she knows that he’s waiting for her to say the first words. He extended the olive branch, and she’s the one who has to take it. That’s how they work, even if it’s not what she wants right now.

“I hate this,” she finally grits out, bunching the comforter with her fists. “I want to go back to how things were before. I want to live in the shitty apartment above the pub and have you come visit me at midnight so that we can get drunk and stuff our faces with onion rings and pretzel bites and not have a care in the world besides how bad our hangovers are going to be.”

“Darling, you know we can’t do that.”

“I know. I know that. I know that we made this decision together even if we were pushed, not really having a choice of our own, and I know that what we’re doing is going to be worth it. But God, Killian, I feel like I’m drowning.”

Tears well up in her eyes, and she closes them to try to get the water to go away. But the hot tears stay, and when she can’t take having her eyes closed anymore, she opens them only for the tears to furiously fall. She wants them to stop, needs them to stop, but it’s like the dam has broken and she really is drowning. Shit. She really hates crying.

She hunches forward to curl in on herself, wrapping her arms around her knees and letting the comforter fall from around her while Killian’s hand rubs up and down her back in soothing circles, silently trying to help her through this, which really only makes everything worse. This isn’t fair. She knows that life isn’t fair and that it’s absolutely ridiculous for her to be bemoaning how much her life sucks right now while having a meltdown in a fucking palace, but she feels how she feels.

Her dad used to say something about not comparing her happiness to others in the same way that she shouldn’t compare her sadness to others, and she wishes she could remember the exact phrase now. She’s pretty sure the gist of it was to not compare, that comparison is the thief of any joy.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so, so sorry. You don’t deserve any of this.”

She chuckles under her breath, but it’s all snot and tears, her throat getting clogged until she coughs to try to release all of the mucus and emotions that are stuck there. “I really hate people, you know? First, we have your asshole of a family, then my asshole of an ex, and now there’s just assholes everywhere giving their opinions on everything I do like it’s any of their business. I just want to be with you, to be in love, without having the rug pulled out from underneath me. It keeps happening.”

“Things are going to calm down,” he reassures her, his hand practically rubbing a hole into her t-shirt with how much it’s moving. “We’re working on it. We have the statement, our legal team, your security. It’s going to be better, and you won’t have to go through things like this anymore. There won’t be any more sobbing in the bedroom.”

“How can you say that? I’ve been with you for five years, Killian. I know the hell that you go through. I know that the same will be happening to me.”

“You learn to live with it. That’s all I can say. I wish I could help more, protect you more, and while I can’t promise you anything that is out of my control, I can say that I think the worst of it is over. We can literally only go up from here.”

Sighing, she leans back into his embrace, letting him wrap his arm around her shoulder and tucking her head against his side while he whispers soothing words against her forehead, pressing kisses against her temple between every statement.

“Why can’t we have fights like normal people?”

He chuckles against her hairline before rubbing his hand up and down her arm. “The other day you got right pissed at me for chewing too loudly. That’s normal. We have normal fights all the damn time. They simply don’t usually end with one of us hiding away in the bedroom and staining the pillowcases with our mascara.”

“It washes out,” she answers automatically, wondering why the hell he’s concerned with that of all things right now. But then he cups her chin, turning her face to look at him, and the smirk on his face makes her realize he was messing with her. Oh. She really is all out of sorts. “Are you really trying to pick a fight to prove a point?”

“I’m trying to pick a fight to make you feel better.”

“That’s weird.”

“Eh.”

“No seriously.”

“But is it though?”

“Weird? Definitely.”

“Brilliant is a much better fit, I think.”

“Debatable.”

“I repeat. Is it though?”

Her breath hitches as she realizes what it is he’s doing, distracting her from everything with his nonsensical words and stupid faces that he’s been making while they’ve been bantering back and forth. He’s…she’s known for a long time that she wanted to be with Killian for the rest of her life, something that she never thought she would be thinking about any man after Neal, but she really is willing to go through hell for him. It’s all insane and a little bit unreal, but he knows her in a way that no one else does.

Killian knows how to distract her from her problems. He knows and understands that she likes to be by herself, doesn’t mind it at all, but that there are times when she wants to be with him or her friends and families. He knows the things that she thinks about when it’s two in the morning and she can’t sleep, and he knows how to read her when no one else in the world can.

They’ve come from worlds that couldn’t be further apart, but at their cores, they’re the same. And that’s exactly why they work at the end of the day. She understands him and the places where he’s broken, and he does the same to her.

But he also just makes her laugh, and he makes her happy. And she has to convince herself that sometimes in the future, she won’t remember the time she crumbled under all of the stress and pressure of this new life she’s been slowly stumbling into for over half of a decade.

“Can we get pizza delivered here, babe?”

His head recoils, but a bright smile stretches across his face, obviously happy that she’s now smiling too.

“Yeah, love, I think we can do that.”

The moment she steps off the plane, she can already feel the difference in the weather in Spain versus back at home. There are still days where she wakes up to let Indy outside that she has to bundle up in a jacket and in thick clothes from the occasionally biting chill of late May. But it’s the first day of June now, and they’re staying in Mallorca for a little over a week to get away from work for a little while. And for their two-year anniversary, but the stars simply seemed to align for them to be able to get away for that day.

She and Killian load up into the car after packing away their suitcases with Thomas’s help. She hadn’t wanted him to come, hadn’t wanted the security while they’re off on vacation, but it was apparently necessary, though he does promise that he and the rest of the team will be as discreet as possible. She loves Thomas. She really does. He’s like having another uncle, but you don’t really want your uncle to travel with you on vacation with your husband.

True to his word, after dropping them off at their house, Thomas leaves to make his way to the house next door, leaving she and Killian to explore their home for the next few days. As nice as it is, all she really cares about is the fact that as she walks through the rooms, there are floor-to-ceiling windows that look out onto the beach, the clear blue ocean and rocky hills of the area in full view no matter where they are in the home. She can already feel the sand between her toes and the ocean air tangling her hair, and she absolutely cannot wait.

They both love being near the ocean. It became a hobby and rare thing for Killian to be near the ocean when he was younger, even with his love of sailing, but she grew up within a few minutes’ walk of the ocean and a sandy beach. And while the sands weren’t as white and the water not as clear, it’s still the same when it comes down to it.

Sighing in contentment, she steps over to the sliding glass doors in the living room, bypassing the cozy white couches with light yellow pillows and what have to be the softest looking blankets she has ever seen, and opens the door, taking a step out onto the deck and immediately feeling the sunshine beating down on her face and the breeze blowing through her hair like every cliché that there’s ever been of a woman on the beach.

She hasn’t felt this relaxed in weeks, even when sitting in the comfort of her own home, and she can’t help the smile that stretches across her face.

“You happy, love?” Killian asks, taking a step behind her and wrapping his arm around her waist so that his fingers mess with the protruding strip of skin below her t-shirt and above her leggings, the fit of his arms not quite the same as what she’s used to.

“So happy. This is fantastic. It’s been far too long since we’ve been to an actual beach.”

“Aye, the beaches in England aren’t exactly the same as beaches like this.”

“Yeah, what’s up with that? Can we get your dad to fix them?”

He chuckles beside her before his lips find her temple. “I’ll add it to the list of things to fix. I’m sure it’s the biggest problem we’re facing right now and totally in his control.”

“Stop,” she groans, rolling her eyes at his teasing. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. What do you want for lunch? You haven’t eaten since breakfast this morning.”

“Surprise me. I’ll go unpack while you cook, okay?” She turns to head toward the staircase when she stops, biting her bottom lip and muttering a curse underneath her breath. She didn’t think about this, and it’s by far one of the things she hates most about being pregnant right now because she could totally lift those suitcases without any issue. “Killian, I need you to grab the big suitcases.”

“You really didn’t want to ask me to do that, did you?”

“Not at all.”

After she and Killian get the suitcases upstairs, he goes back downstairs to fix them dinner all while she puts away their clothes into the closet. She’s always been one to live out of her suitcase while on vacation, but Killian likes to hang clothes and fold them into draws. He claims it saves time when they’re packing up to leave, but she’s never seen proof of that. Of course, it probably doesn’t help that she leaves her stuff piled on a chair after she wears them.

She’s always thought if there’s anything for she and Killian to come to major blows about, it’s going to be how she handles her laundry.

She takes a moment to explore their bedroom, running her hands along the mattress and feeling the softness of all of the blankets and pillows. It’s beautiful, and then she sees the door that leads out to the balcony, the glass panes blocked by the closed blinds. After turning the knob, she opens up the door, the heat of the sun not beating down on her skin up here, the canopy surrounding her letting her have the view of the ocean when she doesn’t want the heat. Yeah, she could definitely get used to this.

The rest of the night passes quickly, the two of them eating the stir fry Killian whipped up, and then settling out on the back porch to watch the sun set like the elderly couple they are.

And that’s how the first few days of their vacation go, waking whenever they please and wandering out to the beach, letting the sand sink in between her toes as she walks along the shoreline, picking up the occasional broken shell so she has something to fiddle with. She can’t walk far from the house, though, the strip of land that’s private to them only stretching so far, so when she walks the length of it, she makes her way back to where Killian is reclined in a chair under the umbrella reading one of his books and toeing into the white sand so that he’s dug a deep enough hole for a small child to play in.

After four days, both of their skins slightly sun kissed, Thomas clears them to go into town, sweeping a small café in the harbor for them to eat dinner. It’s a beautiful night, the sailboats traveling in and out of the harbor while people mill up and down the docks. It’s still far too early for people to be eating, at least by Spain’s standards, so she and Killian have a relatively private night, only Thomas sitting out on the open patio with them as well as another couple who seems to be three sheets to the wind.

“Do you want to see if we can go sailing tomorrow?”

Killian takes a sip of his wine, his profile turned to her so she can see the defined line of his jaw and the gulp of his throat as the wine travels down. “Aye, that’d be nice. Do you think you’ll get queasy?”

“No, why would I get queasy?”

He turns to look at her then, his eyes especially blue with the ocean behind him. “You’re pregnant. Some pregnant women get nauseous while out on the ocean, no matter where they are in the pregnancy. Or that’s what the books have said.” “We’ve really got to expand your literature choices, babe.”

“Really? Because I was reading about the actually delivery earlier and – ”

“Woah, woah, woah,” she groans, holding her hand up and clapping it over his mouth so he’ll shut up, “we are not talking about that tonight. No baby talk, no pregnancy talk, and especially no delivery talk, got it?”

“Got it.”

So they don’t talk about anything baby related, leaving it all behind them as she has Killian in stiches imitating Liam when he got drunk at his birthday party and started singing songs to Abigail, much to Abigail’s embarrassment. Forty was really hitting him hard, apparently, and as much as Liam likely doesn’t remember that, she has video proof to save that forever. Her face begins to hurt the longer their dinner goes on, far too much smiling and laughing in such a short period of time, and she knows it’s time to go home when Killian starts snorting instead of his usual laughter.

They walk home from the restaurant, their hands intertwined as they navigate the small streets and corner shops on this side of the island. She makes a mental note to stop by some of them sometime later this week, but right now, all she really wants to do is go back home with laughter lines on her face and amusement constantly moving through her belly. Killian regales her with a story of him as a child when Allison took him to a water park and how he’d fallen off the raft on the way down the slide. She’d never heard that story before, had never heard how he broke his arm that day, and even though she’s sure that it hurt like hell, she can’t help but laugh imagining a young Killian flying off the slide.

“You’re bloody sadistic if you find that funny.”

“Oh come on,” she tugs on his hand, bringing his knuckles up to her lips to kiss while the house comes into view, “you were laughing while you were telling the story. It’s funny.”

“You’re messed up, darling.”

“Never said I wasn’t. Besides, I think we’re a bit delusional tonight because there’s no way in hell we’re this hysterical.”

When they get to the house, walking up the steps and standing on the front porch, she begins fishing for her key to unlock the door when Killian stops her, yanking on her arm and pulling her toward him so that she’s looking up at him while he smirks down at her.

“What?

“Will you go out with me again, Emma?”

She snorts, shaking her head back and forth before wrapping her arms around his neck and playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. How is it always this soft? “I feel like you’ve asked me that before, and I also feel like my answer will be the same.”

“So a yes?”

“Obviously,” she sighs, leaning up so that her lips can brush his. “You are a damn good person to date.”

“That’s good. I feel like you might have married the wrong man had I not been good and wining and dining you.”

“Well, I can’t have any wine right now, but we can still do all of the fun post date activities.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. I didn’t put on my good bra not to get lucky tonight.”

Killian throws his head back in laughter, the lines in his neck straining, and she kisses the underside of his jaw before unhooking her arms and shuffling through her purse for they key, unlocking the door and stepping inside with Killian at her heels. She takes a minute to unstrap her wedges, her feet thanking her the moment she’s barefooted and back to her normal height, before quickly walking over to the staircase and heading upstairs, Killian at her heels.

She moves to unzip her dress herself, but Killian’s hands stop her, moving her hair over her shoulder and kissing her neck and down her back as he slowly unzips the dress, the material falling off her shoulders as he goes. Every touch of his lips sends the smallest of shivers throughout her body, and she sighs in pleasure as his scruff rubs against her skin.

“You are so beautiful, Emma.”

She feels her cheeks heat in response to his words, in response to the way his voice dips low, and for a moment, she feels like they’re about to sleep together for the first time instead of the thousandth. But then her dress gets stuck on her protruding stomach, something that definitely wouldn’t be there had this been their first time together, and she’s shaken out of her thoughts. Besides, as special as that time was, it’s better now. There are no awkward pauses, even if there are awkward movements and the occasional cramped leg, and he knows exactly how to make her sigh and moan in the ecstasy and the pleasure of it all.

Once she gets her dress off her body, she turns to face Killian, slanting her lips over his and immediately tilting her head as his tongue licks into her mouth in a warm, wet slide that makes her body tingle the slightest bit, desire building in her core. His hands find her bottom, lightly kneading her ass while his hips slowly roll into hers, his hardening length evident through his jeans even with the slight barrier that keeps them from pushing together as much as they used to.

Slowly, Killian backs them up to the bed, her eyes only opening to make sure she’s not going to trip over anything on the way to the mattress. She doesn’t, gently falling back against the mattress while Killian kisses down her chest, fingering at the lace of her bra while making sure not to press his body weight down on her. Her hips jaunt up into his, making him growl into her skin, and she closes her eyes while his tongue traces over a nipple, bringing it to a hard peak while his fingers pinch and squeeze at the other, driving her into madness while he’s still fully dressed.

Yeah, this is so much better than the first time.

“Take off your clothes.”

“Well, you have to buy a man dinner first.”

“I did,” she laughs, opening her eyes and seeing him smirking down at her with his tongue running over his bottom lip, which does not help her impatience at all. “I paid that bill.”

“A very good point.” He pecks her lips before standing and quickly unbuttoning his shirt while she reaches around and undoes her bra, letting it fall off her shoulders and tossing it to the corner of the bed while she pulls off her underwear, having to squirm to get them off all while Killian easily shucks his pants

She kind of hates him for how his body is still the same when she has to sleep with pillows stuffed under random body parts to be comfortable.

Before she can move, Killian takes hold of her ankle, the wetness of his lips tracing the lines of her skin as he moves up her leg while his fingers deftly dance across her skin and his whiskers leave red marks where they brush her. He continues to move while she watches him, her gaze only leaving his when he gets to her inner thigh and she has to close her eyes at his touch, the sensations all too much for her. Then there’s a slight nibble, followed by a harsher bite, and her eyes fly open while she gasps.

“W-what the hell was that? Are you trying to give my thigh a hickey?”

“No,” he promises, kissing the spot where he just bit, “but I was trying to get you to open your eyes.”

“You could have just asked.” “Where’s the fun in that?”

She shakes her head as she laughs, propping herself up on her elbows to give herself enough momentum to lean forward and wrap her hand around Killian’s cock, gently stroking it to hardness while he clenches his jaw and hisses at her touch.

Yeah, she really likes that she has this kind of effect on him.

“Sit down, babe,” she tells him, releasing his length and moving back so that he can settle down on the bed, propping himself up against the headboard. She crawls over to him and plants her knees on either side of his thighs and lines his length up to her entrance, teasing him the slightest bit just because she can, before sinking down onto him and letting him fill her.

He feels good, always so good, heavy and thick within her in a way that makes her breath leave her body every damn time.

His hands find her hips, holding on tightly and steadying her while her hands land on her shoulders, fingernails digging into the skin and leaving crescent moon marks all while she takes this in. “You okay, Emma? You’re comfortable?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, nodding her head and bending down to slide her lips over his as her hips begin to move. She’s always been a fan of long, deep thrusts that are slow enough to drive her mad but lately she’s been all about short and shallow, letting Killian hit that spot inside of her that makes her gasp for breath. So that’s what she does, using the strength in her legs to move above Killian while his lips press hotly into the skin of her neck, making her gasp and groan with every brush of his lips and slide of his tongue.

“You feel fucking fantastic,” Killian whispers into her ear, nibbling down on the lobe as his warm breath ghosts across her skin. “You always do, and I don’t think I’ll ever tire of you.”

He’s said the words before. She knows he has, likely many a time, but she doesn’t care, not with the way that he feels or the way that his voice sounds, deep and husky, his accent rolling off his tongue while she continues to roll her hips.

When her movements get a little more intense, her hips allowing him deeper, he groans into her mouth, her teeth lightly biting his upper lip while his fingers leave marks of their own in her hips. But then one hand moves from her hips at the same time that his tongue moves into her mouth, still tasting of the wine he had while at dinner, and his thumb finds them where they’re joined, alternating between slow, gentle circles and hard, fast rubs. Her orgasm takes her breath away, overwhelming her to the point where she can’t keep moving and has to hold onto Killian while her pleasure bursts and curls around her.

As she comes back to herself, Killian gently moves her to lay back against the mattress, making sure she’s comfortable before he slides back into her and finds his own pleasure, slowly fucking her into the mattress while he hovers above her. It only takes a few more minutes before he’s groaning above her and whispering every obscenity he knows as he spills himself into her, every word he says coming out on a stuttered breath.

She looks up at the ceiling, watching the fan turn in circles all while Killian continues to breath into her skin, somehow still not having collapsed onto the bed until he nearly does, pulling out of her with a hiss and leaving her feeling oddly empty all the while he walks away and into the bathroom, giving her a view of his spectacular ass.

She’s so glad that he’s her forever.

For reasons other than the spectacular ass and the impressive bedroom skills, but she still kind of feels like some kind of sated mess with her sweaty hair and quickly beating heart.

Killian comes back a minute later with a warm wash cloth, gently wiping down her thighs and her core before throwing it in the basket in the corner of the room as he crawls under the sheets and settles himself down. She stills needs to get up, to go pee, but she’s basking in the glory of it all.

“Wear yourself out there, darling?”

“Yes,” she answers honestly, tilting her head and looking at him with a timid smile stretched across her lips. “My thighs feel like jelly, but I’m good.” She has to push herself up, standing and giving herself a bit of time to adjust to standing before heading to the bathroom and peeing, washing her hands and her face afterward before heading back into the bedroom, not bothering to get dressed as she crawls into bed with Killian. They’ll probably be in the mood again later, and it’s not like it’s cold in here.

But she does pull the blanket up over her while scooting over and settling in under Killian’s arm, letting him tug her closer with his arm wrapped around her shoulder and his lips pressing into her hair.

“I kind of missed date night.” “Aye, me too. I’m sorry that we’ve fallen behind on that.”

She leans over and kiss his shoulder, right where there are still a few marks from her fingers. “That’s not your fault. We’ve been busy. It’s hard for us to go out places, and I like chilling with you at home. I don’t have to wear pants.”

He snickers into her hair, all while his hand rubs up and down her shoulder. “That is a good point, but you deserve to be romanced. Truly.”

“I have a very romantic husband, even when he doesn’t realize it, so I think I’ve got it pretty good in that department. Plus, you know, I am obviously the most romantic of the two of us.” “Well, of course, darling. I won’t even debate you on that.”

“You don’t want me to get mad at you, huh? Because we both know that’s not true.”

“Exactly.”

“You deserve to be romanced too, babe.”

“Well, I was. A very beautiful woman bought me dinner tonight, and then I got lucky. What more could I ask for?”

God, she loves him.

The waves wash up onto the shore, clear blue water turning into white crests that rush over her toes and cause her feet to sink into the wet sand while the sun beats down on her skin. She knew it would be hot here, she’s on an island in Spain in June after all, but after so many years living in England, weather like this takes some getting used to, especially with the heat wave in the past few days. Sweat is beading at the nape of her neck and down the small of her back, so when she and Killian get back to their house after their walk, she decides to take a dip in the ocean before going to relax on the deck.

“Come on,” she urges Killian, grabbing on his wrist and encouraging him to follow her into the ocean, the cool salt water already feeling much better than the balmy air.

She wades out until she can barely touch the sand at the ocean floor, floating while Killian continues to have his feet firmly planted on the ground. It’s so incredibly quiet out here, the occasional boat driving by in the distance or a seagull calling out before dipping into the ocean for a flopping fish, and she’s really enjoying being able to get away somewhere different than what she’s used to.

A small wave crashes over them, her pulled-up hair getting wet, and when she looks over at Killian, he’s spitting out water while his hair sticks down on his forehead. She chuckles under her breath before wading over to him and wrapping her legs around his waist, her stomach making the fit different than usual, and pushing herself up to push his hair back, the strands somehow filled with sand.

“What the heck did you do? Dive down and bury your head in the sand?”

Killian clicks his tongue as one hand finds its way to rest under her thigh, holding her up, while his other hand moves to rest on her face, thumb tracing her cheekbone. “It’s the beach, love. Sand is everywhere.”

“Not this much.”

“Well, I’m obviously special. What happened to us going up to the deck and having something to eat? I’m starved.”

“I was hot.”

“You are hot.”

“That’s very nice of you to say but also not your best compliment.”

“Oh, it wasn’t a compliment. I was simply saying your skin feels warm.” She slaps his shoulder before brushing her lips against the salt-covered skin there. “We can go inside to the air conditioning if you’re too hot. It’s getting to be the middle of the day, anyways. Protection from the sun and all that.”

“I just want to stay out here for one more moment, and then I want to go inside and take a shower.” Killian waggles his eyebrows then, amusement filling his features. “Alone, Cassanova. I know we’ve done it before, but shower sex is not that great. And I’m not risking the whole falling thing, not even on our anniversary.”

He sighs dramatically, tiling his head back and giving her access to his throat, allowing her to press several kisses there until she gets to his jaw, his scruff having grown out this week. “That may seem sensible. I guess a bed will do.”

After a few minutes of enjoying the water, a few more fish swimming over her legs and causing shivers to run through her body, they begin to move back to shore only for Killian to stop before she can start rising out of the water. She runs into his back, nearly falling back but catching herself on his shoulders.

“What are you doing, babe?”

“There’s a group of photographers to our right, up on the balcony of the house that’s back by the lagoon. Fuck.”

She gulps, knowing that the privacy they were enjoying is truly over. She doesn’t mind the photographers sometimes, understanding that it’s a part of her life now as absolutely insane as that is, but she minds them now that she’s supposed to be on a private vacation enjoying one of her last few times with Killian…just the two of them.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“I don’t – I don’t want pictures of me in my bikini. They’ll tear me apart and then sell the pictures for my stomach. And I don’t want them getting any more fucking pictures than they already have.”

“Okay,” he sighs, his jaw clinching in frustration while his hands ball into fists. She knows he’s having to restrain himself from shouting at them because there’s no one who hates photographers more than Killian. And if what they were doing wasn’t totally legal, the house they’re very obviously renting fair game since they’re not stepping foot on the property she and Killian are staying on, she’s sure he would try to take some kind of legal action…or smash cameras. Not that he would do that, but she’s sure he wants to. “Stay here, love, and I’m going to go get you the big beach towel to cover yourself.”

She wades a bit back in the ocean, trying to conceal herself even with the clear water, while Killian jogs up ahead, letting himself get photographed as he grabs the towel from their deck and jogs back to her, holding the towel open and blocking them from seeing her until she can wrap the white material around her, trying not to think about how they likely have already gotten pictures when they were walking on the beach or when she and Killian were just making out.

“I want to smash every single one of those cameras.”

“I know, love, but we can’t. Come on, let’s go inside.”

The anger and irritation festers and grows all while she’s in the shower, the cold water not doing anything to cool her down, and by the time she gets out she doesn’t realize that she’s shivering until her teeth start clattering together. God, she shouldn’t be so pissed, but this bothers her the more she thinks about it. She gets it. They’re public figures, so obviously they don’t have privacy. But more than that they’re human beings with real lives and real feelings, and she wishes this wasn’t how things worked. She wants to be able to go somewhere outside of the walls of their home and be them without people attempting to take pictures.

She throws on some pajama pants and a t-shirt, twisting her wet hair into a bun on the top of her head, not caring about the tangles that will inevitably be there, before heading back out in the bedroom to find Killian closing the blinds and curtains they’d opened this morning. When she peaks around the corner and stands on the balcony to look downstairs out into the living room, she sees that he’s done the same with the blinds in there.

“Thomas says as long as they stay in the house, anything they take is fair game. If they step onto the beach, though, that’s when we could do something.”

“I know.”

“When did you become an expert on this?”

“Right about the time that our relationship went public and I was pretty much stalked.”

“It’s going to be fine, love.” He shrugs, smiling at her with that big, toothy grin of his. “It’s just some pictures. There’s a hell of a lot of pictures of us out there.”

Something twists in her gut, the anger that was heating inside of her while in the shower reaching a boiling point, all of her thoughts and fears suddenly in the forefront of her mind instead of locked away in the back. For someone who was so pissed about it while outside, Killian seems perfectly fine now.

“No, you don’t get it,” she bites, her entire body heating again while she flexes her fist. “This isn’t about you or me. This is about Andy. I don’t want him photographed and stalked and all of that insane shit when he’s a child. That’s disturbed, and he shouldn’t have to deal with that just because of who his parents are.”

“I think I do get it, Emma. Welcome to my entire life.”

She scoffs, throwing her head back while she paces the bedroom, taking her hair down and twisting the tips so she has something to do that’s not smashing something. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I’ve heard it and seen it all a million times, but you seem to not think this is a big deal.”

Killian raises his eyebrows then, his face recoiling while his lips part before settling into a straight line. “Of course I think it’s a big deal. I’m the one who saw them, who stopped you from getting out of the water, who let them photograph me so that you didn’t have to be.”

“Yeah, well, how can I ever thank you for your heroic acts?”

“Fuck, Emma, what the hell is wrong with you right now? What have I done to make you pissed at me?”

“Maybe it’s the fact that the only reason I’m even in this situation is because of you. The only reason I have to worry about the privacy of my baby is because of you.”

“Wow,” Killian whistles, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the door to the balcony. “That’s fucking low, Emma. First of all, I know that this is my fault. I’m aware of that every time something like this happens, and that kills me. But secondly, Andy isn’t just your child. He’s mine too, and his safety and privacy are a priority to me far above my own. You of all people should know that by now.” He storms across the room then, heading into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him so that it shakes in its frame.

She slaps her hands on her thighs, her entire body humming with frustration, before taking a step out of the bedroom toward the hallway and pacing, her feet practically running a hole into the wood. It’s been a long time since she and Killian yelled at each other like that, and she feels every word he said settling into her bones, the realness of it making her feel heavy.

The moment the words came out of her mouth, the ones where she blamed Killian for being the reason she and Andy don’t get to live a life or normalcy and privacy, she knew that she was wrong, that she had been the one to fuck up. Killian was being calm, rational, trying to talk her down. That’s what he does even when his blood is boiling inside, and she went off on him.

Shit.

Shoot. They’re supposed to be working on cursing.

That went out the window the moment she suggested it. Not yet. They can figure that out later.

Suddenly, the weight becomes too much, the heaviness of knowing that she hurt Killian makes her sink to the ground, resting her back against the wall and wrapping her arms around her knees while hot tears sting in her eyes, a few of them falling on her cheeks. She knows talking to Killian will be the easy part, she knows he’ll forgive her and she him, but she still said the words, laid the blame on him, and knowing him as she does, she’s sure he’s in the shower blaming himself and taking her words to heart.

Shit.

She screwed up.

How could she have been so dumb? She knows exactly what Killian has been through for his entire life. She knows about all of the stress and the lack of privacy, the inability to just be a person who screws up without being scrutinized by everyone in the world. She’s seen the emotional toll it’s taken on him, watched him shut himself off from the people he loves, watched him sob over it, and she still told him that he didn’t understand. She still blamed him for their child having to experience the same thing, as if that isn’t one of Killian’s worst fears, one of the things that she finds him up in the middle of the night worrying about.

She’d once woken around three in the morning to find him caressing her stomach, promising to be a good father even though he didn’t have one of those for the first three decades of his life, and it took everything in her not to sob and let him know she was awake.

She’s obviously some kind of evil glutton for punishment because this should not have happened. She should have been better.

Andy starts moving in her belly, something that’s pretty much a constant now, and she wipes her cheeks, removing the salt from her skin, before running her hand up and down the curve of her stomach.

“I’m sorry, kid. I just…your daddy and I love you a lot, but you’re going to have a weird life. And I don’t know if you’re going to hate it or love it, but I’m…we’re going to try to make it really good for you. It’s not going to be like when your dad was a kid. We’re not going to put you through that.”

“Emma,” Killian sighs, her head snapping over to where he’s standing just outside the bedroom, a towel tied around his waist while water beads on his chest, “what are you doing on the floor?”

“I don’t know.”

How much time has passed that he’s already out of the shower? How long was she pacing? How long has she been sitting here? She doesn’t even know. It’s all blurred together and confusing, and she doesn’t remember anything but the hurt look on Killian’s face before he walked away.

Killian sighs, taking a few steps over to her and reaching his hands out for her to grab. She takes them, feeling the warmth of his palms as he tugs her up. “Come on. Let’s go talk.”

She nods, knowing it was coming, and finds her feet, following Killian into the bedroom. He drops his towel, his bare body doing absolutely nothing to help all of the emotions she’s going through, before sliding into a pair of sweatpants and settling down on the bed. She doesn’t know what to do, where to sit, and when her gaze finds Killian’s, his face twists, lips pursing, before he pats the mattress next to her.

“I’m sorry,” Killian sighs as she settles down onto the bed, making sure to keep space between them.

“No, no, Killian. I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. Every bit of that fight is on me.”

“Every bit of this is my fault. You’re only in situations like this because of me.”

How did she know he would do this? He stormed out of them pissed at her, and rightly so, and then managed to turn all of this onto himself. He’s got to stop doing things like this when it isn’t his fault. He should be able to recognize when things are on her.

“Hey,” she coos, tentatively reaching over to him and placing her hand on his thigh. “I chose this, okay. I chose you knowing the consequences of my decision. I don’t like a lot of them, but I love you. We didn’t go through all of that shit three years ago for you to get all self-loathing now, especially when I’m the one who fucked up and picked a fight because I was upset about something outside of your control.”

He scoffs, and she sighs, reaching up to caress his face, feeling the pricks of his ungroomed beard under her skin. “This isn’t a problem that goes away simply because we have a conversation about it. Those pictures are still going to exist. Those and a million more over the years are going to happen. There are going to be pictures of us, of Andy, of any other children we have. People are going to follow him to school. It’s fucked up, but it’s real.”

She feels the sting of tears in the back of her eyes again, all of her earlier thoughts coming back to her all the while Andy flips around in her stomach, making everything so much more real in the moment than any hypothetical she could think up.

“I don’t want that. At all. He’s just a kid, an infant. He hasn’t even been born yet.”

“Emma,” Killian soothes, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing up and down her knuckles, “we’re going to figure this out. We’ll hire more security. We’ll live somewhere more private. We’ll do absolutely everything we can to protect him. I will not live in a world where our son has to have a childhood like mine.”

“So what do we do?”

“Right now, nothing. This is shaping up to be a pretty shitty anniversary, and I’d like to move on from this. I nearly punched the stone wall in the shower, but then I realized a broken hand would only make this worse, don’t you think?”

“Definitely. So you’re not pissed beyond belief at me?”

He clicks his tongue, and the nerves start to stir in her stomach until he wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her closer. “I was. Emma, I get how upset you were. I was too, but we’re a team, you and me. You don’t carry these burdens on your own. You do a hell of a lot more than me when it comes to Andrew, and I fully intend on making up for that, but I promise you that I have his best interests at heart. But this has been my entire life. I’ve never gone anywhere without looking over my shoulder and at some point, I just accepted it. But that doesn’t mean I’m accepting it for the two of you.”

“You shouldn’t have to accept it for you either.”

“Eh, but I have. I’d love my privacy too, but I’m willing to take the focus of the media if it means that you guys get to live in relative privacy.”

She turns her head and pushes up so that she can brush a kiss against the corner of his lips, taking his left hand and fiddling with his wedding ring, the cool brush of metal a constant reminder that they’re in this together.  

“When we get home, let’s talk to Brennan and Thomas about it, okay? Or we can at least save it until tomorrow. Today is our day, and I’m sorry that I ruined it. I...we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Aye, love. It’s ours. You’re so easy to please sometimes, darling.”

“That’s probably how I got pregnant.”

Killian barks out a laugh then, throwing his head back before wrapping his arm further around her waist, tugging her impossibly closer and rubbing his hand up and down her sides. “I love you, my little weirdo.”

“That’s not my favorite of your terms of endearment.”

“But it’s a very apt description of you.”

“Eh,” she protests, leaning her head against his shoulder, “but I love you too. You want to have Thomas go get us some pizza and then not leave this bed for the rest of the day?”

“Definitely.”

It’s later that they’re resting in the darkness of the bedroom, the white comforter pulled over them with a half-eaten box of pizza (yes, they really did travel to Spain only to eat delivery pizza) resting on the floor (the bed was getting uncomfortable, okay) and the television playing in the background, when she feels the baby move for the first time since a few hours ago, his usual movement having quieted.

She grabs Killian’s hand, bringing it over to her stomach and resting it there. “Can you feel that?”

He doesn’t say anything, humming in contentment while his fingers tap against her belly. “Is that…is that him?”

“Yeah, that’s him. You can feel it?”

“Aye,” he chokes out, his voice trailing off while his hand stays perfectly still. She’s watching his hand until she turns to watch Killian’s face and the way that he’s intently focused on his hand over her stomach, the softest of smiles on his face. “Hello, Andy.” She feels him kick again, this time a little bit harder. “Hi. I’m so glad you’ve finally decided to let me join in. Mummy was having all of the fun, and I was getting jealous, little love. I thought I’d been talking to her stomach like an idiot for nothing.”

“Hey,” she protests, reaching over and slapping his shoulder, “you have been looking like an idiot for a reason. Not for nothing.”

“Always so comforting with your words, my love.” “I try.”

“Did you convince him to kick for me today since you forgot my present at home?”

“If I had that kind of control, he wouldn’t kick on my bladder, and I wouldn’t have a mushy, distracted brain with crazy hormones. Also, thin ice, bud. Thin ice. I’m still mad at myself for doing that.”

Killian snickers beside her as he moves his hand off of her stomach and wraps it back around her shoulder. “Don’t be. We can have an entire extra day to celebrate. Plus, we have the frozen cake at home.”

“Oh God, that stuff was disgusting. I don’t want to eat it again.”

“It really was nasty, wasn’t it?”

They stay inside the house for the last few days of their vacation…or holiday. Some American terms simply don’t die. She almost goes out a few times, not wanting to let these people win and keep her from living her life, but at the end of the day, she’s happier staying inside and simply relaxing. If she were to go out, she knows she’d be anxious and riled up, so curling up onto the living room couch and binge watching all of the shows they’ve missed sounds like the end of a perfect vacation to her.

It’s a smooth flight home, even if the turbulence causes her to have a bit of nausea, and they’re greeted by Indy the moment they walk in the door, several notes from their dog walker left on the kitchen counter detailing the times she was let out and fed.

“Hey, my girl,” she coos, scratching behind Indy’s ears while her tail wags so ferociously that she could knock down furniture. “I missed you. Yeah, yeah. We’re going to have to not leave you for so long. That’s not fair to you. Babe, let’s take her on a walk after we rest for a bit, okay?”

“Sounds good to me.”

It’s later, after they’ve rested and unpacked, that they’re putting Indy on her leash and heading toward the front door when there’s a knock and then a ring of the doorbell. When Killian’s unlocks it and swings the door open, Brennan is standing on their doormat.

“Can I come in, son?”

[jaggedheartstrings]

Spread Your Wings (and leave me behind) || Chapter 8

Read On AO3: HERE (chapter 1)

Word count: 2k

Summary:

Natasha Antonia Stark was a thriving scientist in the 1940's. Alongside her brother, Howard, they build a whole world of technology and science for themselves.

Up until a fatal night in 1947.

She was announced dead in 1949.

* * *

Toni wasn’t going anywhere with him as long as she had anything to do about it.

“I was hoping to do this the easier way, but the best ones do put up the best fight at first, don’t they?”

It was the last thing she remembered before darkness overtook her.

-

Chapter 8: Part 1.5 - Reprogram My Will

June 18th, 2003, Formosa, Argentina

The therapist at the local trauma center had told it was good to write down stuff. For coping with everything or to help remember. The center was kind of a homeless shelter too. She wasn’t exactly homeless, but she wouldn’t have been able to afford a therapist. The trauma center therapist was a lovely Japanese lady. Her dark hair was always pinned up in extravagant styles, not one the same as the last one. She always had her square glasses on and ready to go.

While she was a therapist who never got payed, her attitude was never indifferent or mean. Ms. Saito was always warm, inviting and that played a huge part in why she visited her over and over again. One of the few friends she had made had suggested to visit the center, once they noticed how difficult it was for her to interact with people or remember anything about herself.

Antonia sold little inventions and fixed people’s electronics. What she asked barely allowed her to survive, let alone build more. But the people on the outskirts of Formosa weren’t that wealthy. She didn’t need extra money. If she couldn’t pay rent or her next meal, the people always graciously offered to help her. It was a close-knit community that helped everyone.

“An!” Turning at the voice of her friend, Alicia, Antonia gave her a big and real smile. She’d learned that smiling at people when you were in a good mood, would put them in a good mood and they might like you more if you don’t glare them to their early grave. Or so Alicia had said.

“Hey,” she greeted the panting blue haired woman. The pastel blue color of Alicia’s hair complimented her darkened skin much better than it should’ve. “How are you?”

“How am I? I am fucking wonderful, thanks for asking. You will not believe what I just saw.” Antoine’s smile was much more real at her friend’s enthusiastic voice.

“Yeah?” she hummed as she returned to the journal she kept close by, in case she’d need to write stuff down. The page was filled with things under her own name, and a few other names on the page next to it.

“Okay, so. The guy at the hot dog stand, remember him?” Antonia glanced up from the page toward her awaiting friend. The girl was literally vibrating with excitement. The headache building in her head was enough to make her irritated by Alicia’s antics. She loved the woman to death, but sometimes she drove her up five stories.

“Yeah, the red head, right? The one you’ve been crushing on for, oh I don’t know, six months, but have never actually talked to?” Antonia snickered when the blue haired girl whacked her on the shoulder. “Oh, come on, Ms. I-pine-on-people-I-don’t-dare-to-talk-to.”

“I will shove you out of the window, don’t test me,” Antonia couldn’t help but laugh at the adorable threat. She was like a kitten trying to fight a lion. They both knew that the brunette would have the shorter girl on her face in seconds. “Anyway! He saw me stalking him and naturally I knew this was my moment. SOOO, I went up to him and was like, ‘hey man, wanna catch a cup of coffee sometimes’. I heard that’s an adult thing to do, so I was like okay let’s try it.”

“You’ve never even drank coffee, you heathen.” Antonia shoved Alicia away as she tried to catch a look of her notebook. The brunette slammed the notebook closed, storing it in her locked cabinet.

“C’mon, you never let me see what you write!” Alicia whined and she threw a look towards the woman who was acting like a three-year-old despite her 28 years of age. It wasn’t new.

“There’s a reason for that. If I told you what was in there, you wouldn’t know what to do with the information. My past is not all rainbows and sunshine.”

“Yeah, I know. You’ve told me like nine million times already.” Alicia scratched behind her ear, “I know you don’t remember anything ‘cuz you had something horrible happen to you- this is why I need you to tell me, so you don’t make that pissed off face when I talk about it insensitively!” She waved at Antonia’s face with her hand. Sure enough, the brunette was scowling at her friend.

“I don’t tell you, because I don’t want to lose you,” she pointed out.

“But some horrid tale of your past won’t make me run away,” Alicia argued against her.

With a deep sigh the brunette informed her, “I’m not worried you’ll run away.” That made the blue haired girl snap her mouth shut and get an understanding look in her eyes. Her father had worked for the CIA and it’d costed her mother’s life. He did get out of the business after that, but it was a bit late to fix anything. “So, what did the cute hot dog guy say?”

Alicia’s eyes brightened as she explained the rest of the first encounter they had had.

Later that evening Antonia returned to her apartment. The whole building was falling apart, and she was quite sure they’d be tearing it apart soon. Which would leave her homeless. Maybe she could room with Alicia. She wouldn’t mind the company and rent would be easier for the both of them.

She stepped inside the lobby and greeted Harold. He was a cleaner/host who held the place up. A long time ago the man had invested money into this building and pursued his dream. But then the people had basically abandoned this part of the town and he was left to the bares. The apartment complex had 16 apartments, but only nine were occupied- Harold included. Antonia was quite sure half of them were druggies. Wouldn’t have been surprising around these corners.

Harold’s frail and weak smile almost broke her heart. He was already in his late sixties, he shouldn’t have been doing so much around the complex. His hands were shaking, mostly due to his never treated addictions. Now he had thankfully enough smarts in his head to not go inject himself. Plus, his grandchildren were quite often around the complex helping their grandfather. Harold’s wife had died a long time ago due to cancer.

Antonia’s apartment was onto second floor, right above the lobby. It was quiet, well until the druggies would start a party. Her keychain held three keys, the keys to her apartment, her workplace and her bike’s lock. Not that a lock would do much around here. A single fluffy ball was hanging from the keys. She’d taken a liking to soft and fluffy things, which was no surprise considering what she had gone through.

The apartment was a lost cause on pretty much everything, though she had tried her best in patching it up. The hallway that opened up right after the door was quite empty, if you excluded the small rug and shoe holder. She couldn’t afford much, most of the stuff in her apartment was used or passed down from friends. She didn’t mind it at all. She enjoyed fixing things and finding out how they worked.

The light that flooded the entry way was dimmed and yellowish. She’d have to fix the circuits again. It was the third time this month alone. The frustrated sigh she let out made her rip her shoes off and hang her purse quite aggressively. As she was about to step into the kitchen, the light almost unnoticeable breathing caused her to halt. Someone was here.

She immediately reached in her pocket for the knife she always had on standby. Her left hand reached for the light switch and as soon as she made out a form, the knife was flying through the air. The figure- a man most likely- leaned out of the way at the very last second. The knife attached itself to the wooden wall behind him.

The man lifted his head at her, eyes glinting curiously. “Hello child,” The Russian accent made her skin crawl and the snarl that left her mouth was downright menacing.

“Who the fuck are you?” She spat out, her hands clenching and unclenching in fists. The man smirked, his expressionless and cold grey eyes watching her every move. “Who are you?” she demanded even louder this time.

“I guess you could call me an old friend,” the words sending a shiver down her spine. “But you’ve been a very naughty girl, haven’t you? Making decisions and relationships all on your own accord.” He moved and she moved towards the kitchen isle where a block of knives was situated at. The tsk noise made her flinch. “I wouldn’t do that. I’d hate to use more painful methods, wouldn’t you?”

The questioning tone was enough to send her through a loop. “I ain’t coming with you anywhere. You might’ve missed it, but I’m done.”

“It’s like you truly believe you have a choice.” At the widened eyes and menacing tone, she was sent back to a time where everything was much worse. To the first time this happened. When the first word hit her, she gasped at the pain, “предложение.” (tender)

“Ah, stop.” She rasped out.

“журнал.” (journal) An image of steel blue eyes flashed, and she fell to her knees.

“шесть.” (six)

Everything left like it was slipping away. Like someone else was taking control and pushing her to the back of her head, unable to affect anything.

Ash. Evening. Nineteen. Reign. Order. Fire.

He continued until only one word was left. After a second of silence he whispered the last breaking word, “криво.” (awry)

The breathing of the figure on its knees evened slowly out, and it lifted its head eyes emotionless and focused on the wall. “Товарищ?” The question solidifying its presence.

“я готов ответить.” (Ready to comply/I am ready to answer.)

 * * *

 The Winter Flower sat at the Chair. Held together by the straps, the scientists and doctors around it were preparing to do something. It didn’t know, it wouldn’t ask. Weapons didn’t have questions.

Its new handler was rubbing his chin while watching it. He was contemplating on something. His empty eyes were almost unfocused due to the intensity of his stare. He wasn’t actually looking at her, but instead was lost inside his head.

“We are ready,” one of the scientists announced and just like that his attention was back in the present. He walked down from the raised platform towards it. Stopping in front of it, he ran his fingers across its jaw.

“God, after this you’ll be perfect. Absolutely and utterly perfect.” His eyes flashed and the grin he gave it was filled with sharp teeth, “I’m sure you’ll remember that little thing you were working on back in 1995. It’s finally completely finished. That Hansen chick got it finally to stabilize after fifteen tries. You were great help, my dear.” His tone would’ve almost been loving, if it wasn’t filled with disgust.

He walked back up, turning towards the doctor. He’d watched the interaction curiously. “Inject her. Three days is far too long, we need her to be ready and we needed it yesterday,” the man hissed at him. He scrambled away, barking orders in Russian. The Winter Flower wasn’t listening. The hazed daze it was in was going to cause problems if its handler would find out. He’d already made it shoot itself in the leg twice. If it weren’t bandaged soon, it’d bleed out. It wouldn’t dare to inform this to the handler. He knew what’d happen upon shooting yourself in the leg, but he didn’t seem to care.

The sudden burning pain that entered its body caused it to scream out in agony. It felt like it was burned alive. The tears that slipped from its eyes despite its best efforts seemed to please the handler.

Its body was rebuilding itself.

Burning a deep fire through all her limbs, focusing on the bullet wounds as they closed after liquid metal flowed out. “Incredible,” the man whispered out. “Truly remarkable.”

The doctors and scientists seemed to abscond from the room, until only one doctor and the man remained.

And it burned for what seemed like years.

[dwightkschrute]

In 2014 and 2015 I did a my year in review kind of thing where I, of course, reviewed it and accompanied it with a picture from that month. I somehow forgot to post 2016 (until now) and forgot to do it at all for 2017 but unfortunately, I am back with a really disappointing year. I was debating not putting myself through the legit pain of “reviewing” this year but I think of how I love going through my 2009-2010 posts and seeing how much I’ve grown so this is for you, successful and cooler future me.

2016 and 2017 were amazing but 2018 was my most promising year. My boyfriend and I were going to move in, I was going to start my dream job; everything was perfect. It definitely started out as one of the best years of my life! Then exactly halfway through the year everything changed and I was left having to pick up the pieces and completely restart, making it one of the worst years of my life.

I started January in Mexico, which was the best, but my family and I got home early in the month. I had quit my job the month before so I dedicated the entirety of this month to job hunting. Our friend (my bf’s bff who became mine and my brother’s bff early on)’s dad got a boat so it was like we got a boat too because despite the cold, we lived on it. (My boyfriend couldn’t go on the trip with us, which he was super bummed about (and that we had to spend like 10 days apart which was killer then), so he was the one to pick us up at the airport and he greeted me with a bouquet of flowers. Out of the many gifts/gestures he gave me, that was one of my favorites.)

February I started my amazing new job so life was back to 40 hour work weeks and not having much time for much else. I was always attached to the hip to my bf so almost every day after work entailed going out with him or having dinner with my family or his. That was my month. My favorite part of every February is Valentine’s Day and this one was as amazing as the rest. I don’t even have enough space (of the allotted space I give myself for each entry at least!) to describe that day. (My bf at our Valentine’s Day dinner. We finished our long day at this restaurant (so, so cool, once popular with Old Hollywood stars) on Hollywood Blvd and it was dreamy and romantic and amazing.) Oh man, I don’t have a lot of interesting things to say about March. Oh, my parents got Influenza (A/B/idk tbh), so it was two weeks of my brother, bf, and I taking care of them. My dad has a serious chronic disease so it was especially dangerous for him so it was a stressful time. Once we weren’t in hazmat suits anymore (no but really, we were gloved and double masked around them and kept them quarantined), I’d be at work or with my bf. I also started to get close with a co-worker, who I quickly became close friends with! (My bf’s two huskies. I’ve just loved that picture since I took it! I’ve never been loved by a dog more than the one in the back of this pic. Not even by my own! He has a special place in my heart.)

April was barbecues at my house or my bf’s, trying every brewery and bar around, hikes, bike rides, beach visits, baseball games, boat rides, late night cooking and baking. It was lots and lots of love and happiness and I would give absolutely anything to go back to those days. (My brother and bf grilling on Easter. This was a familiar scene, I have so many pictures of this exact scenario, yet looking at it just now made me so emotional! Stop! They’re just grilling!) May was so exciting! Very first day I got a new car! I was so happy! It was long overdue because my finicky, expensive Volkswagen had to go and I’d fallen in love with the new Honda Civic (I’ll admit I have basic taste but I don’t care!) so I finally bit the bullet and did it. This month my bf and I, after a long time of “oh wouldn’t it be nice!”, bit the bullet as well and decided to finally get serious about finding a place together. So the apartment search started, but we soon realized our home, Orange County, was super expensive. My bf, in that “ha ha jk but I’m down if you are” way, suggested we pick up and move to Oregon and I immediately agreed. It just felt right and despite us being the most careful and non-spontaneous people ever, we decided to do it! So we began to research, look for apartments but most importantly, jobs. (My car the day I took it home!)

Uhhhhhh, well, June hurts to think about! We went to visit Portland, where we decided we’d want to live because that’s where the jobs were, on a quick trip since it was strictly “business.” Portland was everything I imagined and more. We loved it and I think we loved playing house in our airbnb more than anything about the city. Back in LAX we came to the easy conclusion that though we lived Portland, that’d require a lot and for our first time moving out we’d like to stay close to home and above anything else, we just wanted to live together as soon as possible. We immediately started to look for places in LA, we spent the month apartment hunting, and towards the end of it, decided on one we really liked, one he begged me to please say yes to so we can move in already. I was so, so, so happy this month but what made me happier was seeing my bf, I swear, even happier than me. I seriously felt unstoppable and was beyond excited for our future. (I had a lot of Portland pictures to choose from but my bf and I liked this one because it reminded us of Always Sunny for some reason.)

In July, everything changed. To start, I left my job. I thought, new chapter in my life, new job coming, I’ll live really far, I should leave now. So I did. My last day was an emotional day because I loved my job so much and every single person I worked with. That very same day, my bf and I broke up. For unrelated reasons to my last day, to our moving in, to our relationship, etc. We had an amazing, amazing relationship but he has a lot of demons and issues/insecurities he has to deal with and conquer, and though I was aware and was there for him and would continue to be by his side no matter what, he decided that this was a battle he had to handle by himself and I figure before he got into a more committed situation. It didn’t have to happen, though. I hadn’t talked about the specifics of the breakup on my blog so  sorry for changing the mood of the post, but yeah, July happened and it felt like my world stopped. Really regret quitting my job now, huh? I was hit by two huge losses and changes right at the same time.  (I took this on my friend’s boat 20 tequila shots in, drunk and sad as fuck. Not to get fake deep but how sad. Literally on a boat, beautiful sunset, would rather die.)

August was a blur and I’m still not convinced I didn’t just dream it. God, alright, here we go, the rest of the year is a mess so get ready. I fell into a deep depression fast. It also didn’t help that my dad had to start getting radiation/infusions for his illness shortly after the breakup. I couldn’t believe how much my life had changed. I started dating someone else and then I dated another guy shortly after. I wanted to replace and/or forget and I really thought that’d be the solution. I was miserable when I was with them. I took absolutely any opportunity to get really drunk or high, and the opportunity came often so I spent most of my days desperately trying to not feel anything. The only time I’d feel okay was when I was extremely high and I couldn’t even think. Since I had a lot of savings for my out of state move, I had a lot of money to blow, which I did. I realized I even liked the feeling of the temporary “high” of spending a lot and receiving the stuff. I’d hang out with any friend who offered (out of boredom? loneliness?) and even ended up on a mess of a Vegas trip. Worst month ever. Maybe. (Here’s a positive! I like that bathing suit and my tiddie looks so round!)

When September came I realized two months had passed and all I had done was be a huge depressed mess. I no joke forgot about work. I just straight up forgot. I started to look for a new job, which hurt me so bad because I had to face the fact that it wouldn’t be my Cool LA Dream Job anymore. I stopped dating. Most importantly, I completely stopped drinking and smoking because it’d almost always make me sadder but also it scared me that I had no self control nor did I care. I saw a whole lot of my close friends and they, along with my immediate family, kept me afloat this month because time felt like it was going so fast. I couldn’t believe that at a blink of an eye it was night again and then a new day. Time had no mercy for me, please let me hold on. (Me at a baseball game. Tbh I’m looking at this thinking, did this really happen?)

October started out nice because my best friend of years, who I unfortunately had a falling out with three years ago, reached out to me. I’ll always give her all of the credit for doing that. I can’t begin to explain what this meant to me. It was a nice, bright shine of light that managed to shine through the dark clouds. Having my best friend is exactly what I needed. I’m a big believer in the universe acting in mysterious ways and though I had grown disappointed in its little surprise for me lately, this was the kind I always appreciate. I spent a good part of that month with her, catching up and doing things just like we did back then. It was like nothing had changed. That’s all I remember about this month, and a super fun Halloween! That day was probably one of the best days in months. (My best friend Rylee and me the first time seeing each other in 3 years. We’ve had our blogs for 8-9 years so please follow her for quality content)

November was rough. I was frustrated because surely things should had been better by then. I was still feeling so low, I was going to job interviews to no avail, I “relapsed” and had a high/drunk off my ass on a boat messy moment.. To make matters worse, I accidentally drove up on a cement divider in a parking lot and my airbags deploy, which is so expensive to fix, so my car was out of commission for a month. Then I got so sick and I rarely ever get a small cold. I seriously felt like I was cursed, even the smallest thing felt like an insult towards me. The one good thing is that since July I had been forcing myself to go to the gym five times a week. My mom said exercising was the only thing that’d help her feel that sweet release of seretonin, endorphins, dopamine, and all that good stuff when she was depressed so, though I enjoyed going to the gym before, I did it just for that reason alone. It worked and as another result I got like pretty fucking fit. Revenge body, you’re one of the few good things in my life right now. (I literally had no idea what to choose so I said fine, here’s a pic of the scene of the crime. Whatever.)

In December I turned 26. Which I hate, naturally. I went to a million more job interviews. I’m seriously so embarrassed to admit that but whatever, it’s the truth. (I have a degree, experience, and an awesome cover letter..I’ll keep blaming the curse!) What kept me sane was that we had different family members visiting from the very beginning of the month. Playing with an energetic, adorable baby kept me distracted and happy. Having so much company around also distracted me (slightly, but it helped!) from the fact that the holidays and my birthday would be quite different now. I’m one of those annoying Christmas lovers, usually at least. This year everything just happened and I didn’t care. But I survived December! (I don’t care. This is the appropriate representation of 2018 and how I feel at the end of it.)

Jesus if you’ve read all of this.. I’m sorry you had to read about the mess of my year but really more like the mess that is ME. Yknow those like “people my age I went to HS with vs me” memes? I seriously went from being that bitch with a good paying job, brand new car, a serious, great relationship with a promising future together (Like. We would color coordinate outfits! LMAO. We would have dinners with both of our families together. We were obsessed with each other. You’d roll your eyes if you saw any of this. I can’t get over how perfect we were, it’s hilarious what happened to us.) and then at the blink of an eye I went to not having absolutely any of that, casually dating (something I’d NEVER done) anyone who resembled my ex and sadly and drunkenly puking off the side of a pier. Who is she? I don’t know, I got whiplash. (Queen of parentheses and side notes, I know. But another thing about me is... I’ve never been affected by people leaving my life. I’m used to it. I’ve never been anywhere as affected as I was when my ex and I broke up. This isn’t normal for me, my ENTJ/Capricorn ass doesn’t know what this feeling is.)

Please curse that has been put on me, release me. Whoever is attacking my voodoo doll, calm down! Please! I’ve gone through enough sadness and loss. If 2019 is even slightly as bad, I’m going to be like that pigeon I reblogged the other day that’s like “fuck this I’m just going to sit here.” I can’t even make a cute but corny, hopeful “hope 2019 is great!” comment. I’m literally begging you...pleading you... I don’t believe in karma but after all of this shit, I better have something much better in stock for me. “Good things are coming!” I fucking hope so. Like, I’ll be even more annoying right now and say that it’s not fair that I didn’t get to have the future I was about to have. I don’t care about any cliche you may have for me. One door closes, everything happens for a reason, God has a plan, etc. No. Why did all of this have to happen? What can be better than the future I was going to have? I felt so unlucky. It all feels like a nightmare and I’m just waiting to feel whole again. Oh shit I got really intense. I know I’ll get over it and life will be good again eventually but for now, I am still so mad. I would have never in a million years guessed this is how my 2018 would go. 

So fine, I’ve accepted things now, so now I’m impatient and say please prove me wrong, 2019. I’m THREATENING you to be amazing!

[frejahertziswritingthistime]

An Education  Chapter 5

A/N: I’m so happy with all the positive response I’m getting for this series! I’m so in love with this story, and all of your comments, replies, reblogs and likes means the world to me. Again, a enormous huge to @redeyedvixen, who’s truly an amazing friend – even when I send her snaps of me singing a lullaby, which was meant for my boyfriend. I love you!   And a big shout-out to my lovely @trustnobodyshootfirst, who’s been a loyal follower of all of my stories; your comments really mean the world to me!

Remember, I always say yes to requests and feedback feeds the writer!

MOBILE MASTERLIST

DESKTOP MASTERLIST

Missed something?

An education masterlist

Summary: You’ve had a crush on Dean for a few years, and during a drunken night, you accidentally let it slip that you have a crush on a person, Dean knows. Dean sets out to figure out on who it is.

Pairings: Dean x reader

Warnings. Language, mentions of wounds and blood, angsty angst (I’m so sorry)

Chapter 5 Overheard conversations part two

June

I was rudely awakened by a loud laugh booming from behind me. I cracked my left eye open and my head slowly woke up – I was in a tangle of limbs, Dean’s long legs and arms covering every inch of me. I stretched my neck a little and saw Dean slowly waking up as well – his hair sticking out in odd angles, a few tufts standing straight up. I giggled. “Get lost, Sam. 5 more minutes.” He grumbled, still with closed eyes, and Sam laughed again. I realized my arm was asleep, and I tried to pull it out from under Dean (how did it even get there?), but he was not having it – he groaned and one of his arms tightened the grip on me. “Dude, my arm is asleep. It’ll fall off, if you keep your big body on it.” He still didn’t open his eyes, but thankfully rolled off my arm, and I pulled it to me. I rolled over and looked at Sam, who was staring at us with the biggest shit-eating grin, I had ever seen. “What?” I grumbled, a little cranky about the fact that I had to indulge in conversation before my coffee. “What… Uhm… Did I miss something last night, Y/N?” Sam said with that goddamn grin plastered on his face. “I was cold.” I grumbled angrily, trying to sit up, which resulted in me tilting straight out of the bed – Dean was massive, and I had (somehow) slept in barely an inch of the bed. I groaned as my ass hit the hard motel-floor, and I glared at Sam. “Stop that.” He mashed his lips together. “I didn’t do anything.” He said with barely concealed laughter. I glared harder at him. “I could hear practically hear you mind-laughing.” I grumbled as I stood up, brushing my butt off from whatever filth was on the carpet. “I’m gonna change. Someone better get me coffee!” I said loudly, as I dashed into the bathroom with my duffel-bag slung over my shoulder.

Once inside the bathroom with the door locked, I exhaled hard. My head was swimming a bit, as I thought back to the night – I had slept next to Dean friggin’ Winchester, cuddling with him, and it was the best goddamn sleep I’ve ever had. Damn. We definitely crossed a boundary last night. We might be close, but we’ve never been that close, and I had to admit it to myself: I was hopelessly in love with Dean Winchester. Completely head-over-heels in love with that man – the man, who was my best friend and currently under the impression I was crushing on some no-name hunter. I groaned in annoyance; why on Chuck’s green earth had I decided it was a good idea to lie to him? Well, a small voice in the back of my head said, you didn’t really lie, just omitted a part of the truth. That’s right. He jumped to conclusions, I just didn’t correct those conclusions.

I turned on the shower, quickly stripping down as steam filled the small bathroom, and stepped under the hot water, a small moan escaping my lips. Thank god for the water-pressure being good. I quickly lathered my body with the no-descript soap, I had bought for travels, and washed my body down – I don’t know why, but I always feel dirty in motels. Besides, I had been very warm during the night, and a little sweat had been in a thin sheen on my body, when I woke up. I quickly washed my hair, savoring the feeling of the hot water against my scalp, and I grudgingly turned the water off and stepped out. Thoughts of Dean swirled in my mind. It wasn’t the first time, I had been cold in a motel-room, but normally he would just give me the best or warmest blanket, and call it a night – I had no idea, what drove him to ask me to… Well, cuddle. As I dried my hair with the tiny towel provided by the motel, I remembered that he’d said something right before I drifted off to sleep. I couldn’t remember what he said, and it drove me mad – my brain hurt, as I tried my hardest to remember, but nothing came up. It was fuzzy. I did remember the feeling of his lips on my forehead, warm and soft, and a slight shiver ran through me – that was definitely new. I ran on autopilot as I got dressed, swiped some mascara and concealer on (I looked like death) and sighed. That’s the best I could do.

As I stepped out of the bathroom, a cup of coffee was shoved in my face by a very large hand. I took it and looked up at Sam, who still grinned like a maniac. “Thanks.” I grumbled, and I went to the table in the middle of the room, where Dean already sat, bleary-eyed and with his hair still sticking out at odd angles. He smiled a sleepy smile at me and turned his eyes towards the case-file again. “Alright, lovebirds, I’m taking a shower. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Sam said happily. I glared at him until he closed the bathroom door, and I heard the “click” of the lock. I glanced at Dean. “I can feel your eyes on me, y’know.” He mumbled and looked up at me, a teasing glint in his eyes. I sighed. “Listen…” He held a hand up to stop me, and I clamped my mouth shut. “I know, you’re in love with someone, so don’t worry. It didn’t mean anything.” He barked. Was he… Angry? I scanned his face, and saw the small jaw-clench, that meant his annoyance was at its peak. I nodded slowly. “Okay, well… Fine then.” I said defeatedly. I wasn’t the one to bring it up if he didn’t want to talk about it. He groaned and rolled his eyes, then looked at me harshly. “Y/N, I’m not really in the mood for this, okay? Don’t play the pissy-card. You were cold, I was warm, it was a great balance, okay? Tell your boyfriend that it didn’t mean anything, hell, don’t tell him it even happened, if that makes it better.” He scowled. Wow, okay, I had not expected that. “Uhm… I just wanted to thank you for keeping me warm, Dean.” I said sadly – of course, I had intended to ask what the hell he had whispered last night, and why he had kissed my forehead, but that wasn’t happening now. His eyes softened a bit. “You’re welcome.” He grumbled.

We sat in silence, him staring at the case-file, not really reading it (his eyes didn’t move at all, I noticed) and me drinking my coffee. Sam came out of the bathroom and immediately felt the shift in the air. “What’s going on, guys?” He said with furrowed brows. Dean groaned. “Nothing, Sam. You better not have used up all the hot water.” He quipped as he made his way to the bathroom, slamming the door after him. Sam turned slowly on his heel and looked at me with confusion shining from his face. “What the hell was that about?” He asked me. I threw my hands up in frustration, before pulling my boots towards me, sliding my feet into them and zipping up the sides. “I honestly have no idea. I cam out of the bathroom, and he just… he was angry, Sam. I have no idea why.” I said with a loud huff. Sam rolled his eyes. “Come on, Y/N, you’ve got to be kidding me. You don’t..?” He grunted. “You two are literal kids.” He scolded as he threw his shoes on and grabbed his jacket. “We’ll wait for him to go, but I think I’ve figured out what’s going on.” He said sourly. I looked expectantly up at him. “I think we’re dealing with a demon. Angel-wards on bodies? It seems as though the demon is trying to protect something.” He said as he sat down across the table. I furrowed my brows. “Then what’s with the blood-draining and body-dumping?” I asked. He shrugged. “Blood-draining could be to throw us off his scent. I don’t know, but it’s only been one body, that’s been found, Y/N. The others are still missing.” He said puzzled. “I don’t know why, though.” My head snapped towards the bathroom door, as it opened, and Dean stomped out. “Me neither. Let’s go figure it out.” I asserted as I stood up.

  It had been a very, very bad idea to go figure it out. I was currently tied up to a metal-bar somewhere in a barn, and I could hear Dean struggling somewhere outside, and Sam’s loud grunts as they hacked and slashed at the minions surrounding the place.

We had found the barn, when we checked around the town, and we had decided to go straight for it – it seemed as if there was only one demon to deal with, when taking the time of the disappearances into account. We had stacked the car with demon-be-gone-stuff and set off to the outskirts of the town. We had moved quietly along the field, trying to scout the place out, and I had stupidly told the boys we should split up and meet behind the barn, so we could check a bigger area. They had stupidly agreed, and we had all gone our merry way – until a demon had grabbed a hold of me from behind, almost snapping my arms like twigs, and had tugged me into the barn, where he had strung me up like a marionette.

And that’s where I currently was: strung up, in an old, smelly barn, with a demon grinning madly at me, while the boys were outside fighting. If there was one thing I had learned, it was to keep the bad guys talking for as long as possible, so that’s what I did. “How many are you?” I grunted, my voice slightly constricted by the leather-belt around my throat. The demon grinned. “Too many for you.” He simply stated, moving a step closer to me. I rolled my eyes – they always had to be so cryptic. “And you kidnapped girls, marked them up – why?” I asked. I tried to move my hands around, see if I could grab a hold of the rope’s end, but to no avail. Damn it. “We needed them.” He said. Another step closer. My heart sped up – I heard a yelp of pain from outside. “No shit, but what for?” I asked through clenched teeth – it worried me, how close he suddenly was. “We needed them for safe-keeping.” He stated. “Safe-keeping?” I wondered out loud, my predicament forgotten for a split second. He nodded. “Safe… Oh, no. You’re kidding me.” I suddenly realized what he meant – the markings, the sigils, the placement of them “safe-keeping”; they had tried to breed. “Oh, yes…” He hissed. I could feel his breath on my face and I gagged slightly. “And then you came… A little gift for us.” He snarled. “I’m going to have so much fun with you, little one…” A shine of silver caught my eye. Shit. “Aw, buy a girl dinner first.” I hissed. He growled and played with the knife between his fingers. “You talk too much.” He simply said, before running the sharp blade across my stomach. I screamed in pain. My shirt got cut in half, dangling uselessly across my lower abdomen, blood coloring the white shirt red. The demon grinned again. I gasped for air. “A name of my torturer would be great.” I hissed. He was not going to kill me – at least not right now – and I used the moment to sass him a bit. It was probably a stupid idea, but I did it nonetheless – his eyes flared, and a grunt and a loud bang came from behind me; someone had been thrown against the siding of the barn. “Berith.” He simply stated. I rolled my eyes. “Seriously? One of the 72 demons of Solomon is torturing me right now?” He grinned wider. Then the breeding made sense. “The old demons need new blood?” I asked, my breathing coming out in bursts. He laughed. “Maybe.” He let the blade slide down my arm, and I screamed again – I thought I hear my name, but the pain of the knife boring into my skin took my focus away. “I’m going to have so much fun…” He snarled and made a quick, but deep cut in my stomach. I howled in pain, my body trying to curl in on itself, but I was tied by my hands hand feet, so it was useless. He continued his torture, my shirt becoming redder and redder by the second, and my voice was hoarse from screaming, until four loud crashes sounded against the door – Dean and Sam, I thought quietly, my eyes closing in gratitude. But the demon must have thought the same – with less gratitude – as he licked his fingers clean of my blood and stared at me. “Until next time, my sweet.” He grinned – and then, he stabbed the knife into the side of my ribs - all the way to the hilt - and pulled it out again in one, swift motion, before smoking out of the meat-suit he was currently wearing. I couldn’t even scream in pain. My breath had been knocked out of me, and I saw black spots appearing in front of my eyes. I think I’m dying, I thought to myself, it has been a good run. I closed my eyes, as a final crash came from the door, and the sound of splintering wood reached my ears. Dean’s voice was panicked. “SAM! SAM, GET IN HERE!” He shouted for his brother, as his shaking hands untied me from the bar, I had been hoisted up on, and he caught me around the waist, as my body fell limply into his arms – I had no control over my body anymore, and I could barely focus on Dean’s face hovering above me. “Dean… She’s...” Sam’s voice sounded fuzzy, as if he was talking with a mouth fool of wool. “I KNOW, SAM! Please, get the car. Sam, GO! He yelled. I could feel the ropes on my feet loosen, and I tried to smile. “Y/N, Y/N, stay with me, okay? Come on, you’ll be fine, baby, I promise.” His voice was shaking and could feel something wet and warm dripping down on my face, as he scooped me up and started half-walking, half-running with me in his arms, and I briefly wondered if it was blood or tears. I couldn’t see anything anymore, everything was blurry. It was cold. I heard a car racing towards us and then a door being slammed open – I felt my body jostle a bit, and then – leather and Dean’s warm hand was on my face and the other was on my ribs, trying to still the ebb of blood. “Baby, please, don’t do this. Don’t do this, I need you here.” His voice was fading, and I didn’t feel cold anymore – I didn’t feel anything, in fact, other than the continuous drips of warm wetness on my face. I forced my eyes open, and I found a pair of green eyes in the middle of all the blackening blurriness, and I heard Dean’s voice. “Please… Y/N, please, I love you.”

Well, that’s unexpected, a small voice in the back of my head said, before everything went black.    

 CHAPTER 6

TAG LIST: @killerunicorn3, @hobby27, @trustnobodyshootfirst, @mypage-myfandoms

FOREVERLIST: @redeyedvixen, @supernaturalmagicfolk      

(i love you all!)       

[hopelesschromantic]

2017 Songs of My Year

2017 was traumatic for everyone, wasn’t it? And I was no exception. I learned a lot about myself in 2017, formed new relationships and suffered some collateral damage along the way.

In a way, this list is more personal than the years since I started this tradition in 2010, maybe in part because 2017 cut me deeper than a lot of years I’ve had. The highs were high, the lows were real low, and the learning curve was steep indeed.

January 

Frankie Knuckles, I’ll Take You There (ft. Jamie Principle)

The night of January 1, 2017, I sat in a loose state of undress on my living room floor, high and over-warm, in a state of mounting, spiraling dread. We listened to a Frankie Knuckles Boiler Room on Youtube and I struggled to find to words to explain that, eleven days after tying the knot, I knew something was very wrong and I didn’t know how to put it right. I missed my family at the ceremony. I missed the ocean. I missed feeling healthy and vital; the disease in my gut and the medication for it was already starting to exact a brutal toll on me. I missed not feeling afraid. Trump was about to be inaugurated. Christmas vacation was already over and the post-holiday and party slump was hitting me hard. The only thing that soothed me in those late hours were the synesthetic sunshine yellow chords from Frankie Knuckles promising that maybe it wasn’t as bad as I feared.

February

Just Us, Cloudbusting

February was a slight upturn with only patches of stomach churning horror and my mind turned to future training and projects as I took on new challenges at work and tried to ignore the continued dread that seeped into the edges of my life. The best thing about February was undoubtedly taking a trip to Edmonton to see one of my best friends, Eric. A dark mood hung over me that I couldn’t disguise but this old and faithful cover of one of my favorite Kate Bush songs buoyed me during the schlep from Saskatoon to Edmonton. Like the sun coming out, I just know that something good is going to happen echoes the audacious, sparkling optimism of the Frankie Knuckles track above. Despite the reality that it wasn’t *just us* I sang along to this song like a mantra. Just us, just us. Bust those clouds open and let in the sun.

March 

Goldfrapp, Ocean

I opened the month by drunkenly having sex with someone I shouldn’t while I was blacked out and the self-sabotage only continued. I learned I was capable of twisting myself in knots to belong, just like I’d done as a little girl and later a teenager. Don’t leave me behind. Take me with you. Once a passenger, always a passenger. As I fell for someone who never cared for me, I found myself unable to sleep, in a constant state of panic and dread, waiting for a confrontation I knew would never come, all the while terrified I would be quietly edged out of my own life, replaced by someone who didn’t even want my life. The intensity I felt was misdirected at the woman who became the object of my fascination, not because of anything about her but because of the lengths I’d go to participate in my own life as it went further off the rails. No boundaries. Let your love consume you and burn you to the wick. 

Goldfrapp’s “Ocean” reminds me of both the woman and myself; I’m the titular ocean, vast and mercurial and she’s the narrator of the song, the people collector, the one who wouldn’t lie. But of course she would.

April

Yaeji, Passionfruit

April was more tranquil, for me at least. I’ve learned I overcome pain and humiliation quickly, and that’s a blessing at least. This tranquil remix of Drake’s Passionfruit played a lot during the month of April, with it’s cold lyrical indictments, muted vocals, deep, ebbing beats, all delivered in distant, minimal space. It echoed my emotions well. Numb, healing, detached. I still hadn’t felt the return of my sense of safety, the seismic sense that my love life and my health could change at any moment would stay with me for months to come.

May 

Joe Goddard, Music is the Answer

By May I had enough distance from the misery of March and April that I could catch my breath. My world had shrunk over the past few years and I felt a powerful need to expand it, to connect with people outside my small circle, with the hopes of establishes more people in my life who wouldn’t take my energy and warmth for granted, people who wouldn’t be compelled to compare me unfavorably to my partner. I was missing the kind of intimacy that comes from having someone in your life beyond your partner, people who care deeply about you and is warm and caring and intimate. May was a month of burgeoning connections and false starts, like a false spring, but a spring nonetheless. Joe Goddard’s video heightens the track, the lost war satellite in search of its target, not unlike my nascent forays into finding a connection to someone far, far away.

June 

Kaityn Aurelia Smith, An Intention

In June we went to Calgary to visit one of my best friends, Alan, and managed to see Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith at Studio Bell, a cavernous and breathtaking cathedral of music in Calgary’s East Village. KAS stood in front of us with her analogue synth and her trippy light show and for the length of her show I was suspended in this psychedelic pastoral wetland, all shimmering tadpoles and dividing cells. I came away from the experience euphoric, feeling like I’d transcended something immense, learned important secrets of creation.

July 

Brandon Flowers, Never Get You Right

I revisited this song when I was feel particularly alone as my attempts to connect to different people around me crumbled before me and I heard some bad reviews of my behavior through the grapevine. Was it worth it, trying to be known and understood? Is that all I wanted? Or was I asking for too much? Was there anyone I could connect with enough that I trusted their review or was I really at sea? They’ll turn you into something whether you are it or not. Yes of course, a worthwhile reminder that this misunderstanding, this feeling of being unknowable and isolated isn’t particular to me but instead a universal.

August 

Carly Rae Jepson, Cut to the Feeling

August long weekend started with one of my best friends Chris coming to Saskatoon. We had an amazing time, the highlight of which was Brock’s DJ set at Pink. CRJ reminds me of Chris and when Brock played this song, the room lit up and I had the rare and glorious feeling that I was in exactly the right place at exactly the right time.

September

Galantic - Hey Alligator

It’s sugary and gay and over the top as all Galantis is want to be but this song soundtracked the last of lonely Saturday nights at home, flitting about the kitchen cooking or chatting up veritable strangers on the internet, which was not ultimately a particularly gay activity but this track makes me feel like the last word in gay. Some of the relationships I’d formed online at that time had started to go septic and I started wondering what it was about me that lead me to seek out such unsatisfying and ultimately destructive connections. My introspection started with this song and continued over the coming months.

October

Shura, White Light

If I had a single song that spoke to my personal process and internal conflict this year, it was this one. Morgan put me on to it, indeed put it on me, and I became addicted to it, playing it literally dozens of times and in every mood. Shura’s sweet, breathy voice purrs intimately on the track while electropop burbles around her. Her lyrics speak to a blinding intensity, a seductive and almost alien nature or for my purposes a fictive personality manufactured to elicit validation but ultimately flimsy. But at the same time I felt like a part of me that had never been properly seen was given space to flourish. Intense and intimate, this aspect of myself could give with abandon because the people I was giving to were many miles away, sometimes on different continents, a safe distance for my heart and body and real life, practically in space. You're from another planet/And I'd like you to take me there/You can fly your alien spaceship

November 

Miguel, Told You So 

November swam by so quickly. In the first couple weeks Eric came to visit completely by surprise and we had the most ideal, chill time and I’ve been craving it ever since.

Miguel’s War and Leisure is without a doubt one of my favorite albums of the year and Told You So was my favorite track. The song is pure romance, sunlight, promises of fantasy and romance and escape and yet we from Miguel that the video for this track is a protest video, shot in the desert, missiles falling in the sky just as others launch. There’s an air of dread and voyeurism to the video, meant to refer to the political world in the Trump era but it felt true of my life too. Did I really understand all the changes I’d undergone in 2017? For good and for ill? The practice I’d had setting boundaries but also the increasing social anxiety? The strain that living more truthfully had put on my closest relationships? 

December

Sasha ft. Poliça, Out of Time

I don’t usually have much to say to trance as a musical genre but this track is a common thread throughout my 2017. Brock played this track to great appreciation at the rainy and isolated little Solstice Festival back in June and reprised it, mostly for me, at a miserable, failing Saskatoon club called Eclipse in the first week of December. 

This track is airy, cavernous, with juicy, acidy beats throughout and Channy Leaneagh’s throaty, disembodied voice haunting the track. Yes, we are out of time. Out of time for Christmas. Out of time to change, to do better in 2017. Time moves so much faster than I handle and it scares me.

Song of the Year: 

The 1975, Somebody Else

I’ve listened to this song with all my friends, Brock and Morgan most of all. Definitely most played in 2017. 

Ignore if you want the three minute Lynchian introduction that carries on from where Change of Heart leaves off, but I can’t. Twin Peaks was a part of my year and the Lynch references with the doppelgangers and rabbits on the wall were impossible to ignore. Matty Healy splits himself into twos, threes, fours, and more as he mourns what he’s lost and revels in self-pity, excess and self-destruction. It all seems terribly familiar.

In the video for this track, Matty Healy wanders through the ugly concrete cityscape that I think is Manchester, surrounded by green-blue twilight, neon lights, reflective surfaces and gathering storms. He undersings all but the bridges, were his gently screwed and chopped voice hits registers beyond his range, translating on the track to keen and visceral pining interspersed with chilly ambivalence--my entire process of untangling my mind, my desires from someone else’s. 

Over the course of the song I lose track of Matty Healy’s gender and orientation, mostly because he invites it, but in that moment it’s easy for me to assume his perspective--something I usually find impossible in bands with guitars fronted by men. In that moment I’m thinking about who I am with and without love in my life, how I choose to define myself in and outside of relationships and my role in shaping them. This year has seen huge growth and painful realizations for my heart and head but the way forward is through.