#remembering that there’s so much more out there in the world of jams jellies and preserves

[digitaldiseas3]

i’m so obsessed with my ocs except i haven’t actually developed their universe At All so i have to figure out what is even happening around them and not just like. what they would eat for breakfast

[belethlegwen]

What does Henry think about Human holiday traditions? 💜

I was LITERALLY just having a conversation with Zip about this re: Henry and Atticus hahahaha Ok, SO

Please let me apologize for not answering multiple asks about this

They are sittin' in my queue staring me down only because I'm a weirdo with some personal hangups (nothing major or whatever I just... have not put a ton of thought into this).

What I am about to write is very long, winding, and personal. There'll be a TL:DR at the end for the ACTUAL answer to this question, but for now, have a read more:

In the real world, I don't do like... Traditional Christmas for myself. Born and raised Christian/Catholic, of COURSE my family (all of it. So much of it. There is so much family I get two god damn turkey dinners tomorrow. One at lunch and one at dinner) does Christmas and always has. Back in about the mid 2010s I was working with a local non-profit/charity organization and all of my friends were like, 3-10 years younger than I am, all in school, all making ends meet barely kind of deal. I stopped doing Christmas gifts. It started slow and awkward; I got my family who were doing well for themselves and didn't need anything a bunch of those like, "Gifts of Hope" with the money I would've spent on gifts for them. My friends I got basically nothing save for one or two. My sisters' gift money bought a whole bunch of chickens or ducks for a family, my parents bought a goat I think? I can't remember, it was basically a billion years ago now in my brain so I don't fully recall what I got them.

Then I just... stopped getting gifts. Every now and then I'd really spring for something if it jumped out at me or seemed important for someone, but most of the time I would do like... alright cool, I will pay for lunch for everyone at work. I will take someone out for a nice drive. I want memories, I want to give you nice memories. I like giving gifts, but the pressure at Christmas time is UNREAL, and that was one of the real reasons I stopped doing presents. Friends who straight up did not have the money were getting me gifts because they were expecting some from me and I had to put my foot down and tell them No, do not buy me shit. I ain't gettin' you shit, please stop stressing and harming yourself emotionally or financially for me, I don't need anything. So I don't do gifts anymore. I have a little gay Christmas Tree with Bernie Sanders on top, it's out year-round because me and my cousin gay'd it the fuck UP for valentines in 2021 and it became a Pride Tree and so it's just there, always. For Christmas I move it from the corner to the middle of the livingroom window. That's all the decorating I do. In The Rescue, Melanie is still very much grieving the loss of her Father and Step-Mother, who were the people she celebrated a lot of the holidays with. She still does SOME holiday stuff with Laura and Dyna and Mark (sort of on Mark. More like he's around, and she does little things to keep him from feeling excluded) and chats with a few estranged friends rarely, BUT for the most part... holidays just glide by. She was, until Henry arrived, only going to care about Christmas and the lead-up to it in the sense that it would've opened up a bunch of Christmas markets and stuff for her to sell some of her driftwood art pieces at. I have not thought extremely hard on HOW it's going to come up initially in The Rescue, but yes. At some point Melanie will probably celebrate a real Christmas again with Henry and her close friends.

[TL:DR] As for how he FEELS about Christmas:

Henry loves it. They have similar gift-giving or family-get-together holidays near the solstices every year. The Winter Solstice is specifically a food-oriented holiday where the weeks and everything beforehand are people preparing to either host extremely LARGE meals for as many friends/family/neighbours as they can cram in, or if you aren't hosting, you're doing as much long-shelf-life food prep as you can. Henry and his Mom used to do a LOT of bottled chicken/meats, and jams/jellies for their neighbours. In rare years where the harvest wasn't strong enough for there to be a large surplus? Socks, mittens, hats, and so on. His Dad actually used to be phenomenal at mending boots, and apparently a lot of the neighbouring farmers/farm workers begrudged the years that the Lemuels had a great crop year because it meant that his Dad probably wasn't going to be doing his "Bring your boots to the house and I'll have them leak free before the holiday is done". As a boy, Henry hated the fact that he felt he knew all of his neighbours' footsmells individually. When his father passed, because neither he (nor his mother, for that matter) ever knew how he had done it, it was one of the things that made that holiday feel even more hollow in the loss. No smell of old, well-worn boots in the house. Henry thinks the trees and decorating them is "nice" but also "...Why?" and he could do without a good number of the Christmas songs that get played over and over again on the radio. Melanie introduces him to a number of Christmas movies that he enjoys as much as any other movies, but mostly he just loves the atmosphere of friends and loved ones coming together for gifts, joy, food and warmth. It's very nostalgic for him.

Thanks so much for the question, Ozzy! So so so sorry for the immense and possibly heavy answer. AND SO SORRY TO EVERYONE WHO HAS ASKED ABOUT MEL/HENRY AND HOLIDAYS WHO I HAVE JUST LEFT HANGING THERE, I AM A MONSTER.

[dankusner]

"Oh God, Chip, I wish you weren't my brother so I could fuck you!" "I'll have a side order, ma'am." I felt like ... Winona Ryder. A woman more powerful than me?

She's.... discovered a lump. Chaos by Donna Karan. Bonus for you!

No one speaks of pavilions any more, and that saddens me.

"Come Back to the Five & Dime, Barbara Streisand, Barbara Streisand" "Look, nobody said it would be easy, being celebrity communists."

“It was a portrait Norman Rockwell forgot to paint.”

Someone's Mother Home Again in oils

Because I love to sit around my motel room after my show in my bra and panties and I'll say to somebody Get me a Remy Martin with a water back God damn it Thank you I know they like it and I do too

And she went down the stony end

I can recall to this day the thrill of knowing

When I was a little girl I used to go home for lunch every day -

My parents got divorced five years ago after 38 years of marriage -

My father's a proctologist my mother's an abstract artist

We went to the 1965 New York World's Fair in 1964

"But mister, if this is about Ishtar I'm getting up and walking out of here right now, because that's too self-indulgent for even me."

"Oh, my God... there must have been dust on those Mints..

Funny Girl was hot that year and I begged my father to take us to see it

"It was a portrait Norman Rockwell forgot to paint - 'Someone's Mother Home Again'... in Oils!"

"You know things are bad when you start resenting Linda Hunt. Oh, they found another project for her? I'm THRILLED."

"a range of spermicidal jams and jellies around The Area."

Babe, tonight in church in that Laura Ashley dress? You were magnificent. And thanks for helping me in the kitchen --don't know what I'd do without you, kitten.

"Somebody hands you a tambourine!"

In June, while promoting her show "Everything Bad & Beautiful," which stops at the Majestic Theatre on Friday, Bernhard appeared on "The View"

Remember, this was daytime talk show's old guard, but Meredith Viera had already jumped ship.

Barbara Walters brought up Laura Bush.

And Bernhard described the first lady's apathetic-seeming demeanor as being "heavily medicated."

And that's when co-panelist Elisabeth Hasselbeck flew into a neoconservative tizzy.

The clip should be immortalized on YouTube.

"I walked into the perfect storm. Star Jones knew she was getting fired, so she had her bone to pick. Elisabeth Hasselbeck was ramping up to become the right-wing spokesperson on the show: She thought it was the perfect opportunity for her to flex her political muscle. And without Meredith Viera, who was the only voice of reason, it was like — these chicks have gone fucking postal. But you know, it was perfect. I just laid back and watched the whole thing unfold without getting too involved."

Bernhard did try to defend herself — by mentioning that Laura Bush says nothing when her husband slashes education budgets.

But no one could hear the guest because Hasselbeck and Jones just talked right over Bernhard.

"Well, that's the problem. These chicks don't shut up. They're the worst possible example of why women shouldn't be in power positions — because nobody listens. They're like these harpy bitches, which has become second nature to that show."

After being banned in Dallas, SANDRA BERNHARD returns.

Our bomb-throwing provocateur on: being Natalie Maine’s neighbor, the chaos know as ‘The View,’ and how she and Jack E. Jett hope to seize the talk-show world By DANIEL KUSNER

Calling from her apartment in New York last week, Sandra Bernhard sounds almost chipper.

“I am,” she says. “So much to be chipper about. Just hanging out — waiting for my kid to get home from school.”

So if she’s in the Big Apple, that means that Dixie Chicks front woman, Natalie Maines, lives next door.

“When she’s here. Natalie is in Los Angeles most of the time now, because her husband [actor Adrian Pasdar] is on that show ‘Heroes,’” Bernhard explains.

Her mellow tone slightly shifts when comparisons are drawn between Maines and the last time Bernhard was scheduled to play Dallas: in 2002, during her post-9/11 “Hero Worship” tour.

Bernhard’s Gypsy Tea Room gig was abruptly yanked — along with a performance scheduled in San Antonio.

When the cancellations were announced, the lesbian performer says she was as surprised as ticket holders.

Bernhard says promoters in Bush’s “announced” home state got cold feet — that they were scared of providing a platform for her shoot-from-the-hip critiques on Orange Alerts and the countless fundraisers for victims of the World Trade Center bombings.

At the time, Maines, of course, was country music’s sacrificial lamb — the Texas sweetheart who spoke out against Bush’s escalation of U.S. troops in Iraq.

As the Bernhard and Maines children played together, the next-door-neighbors spent long hours discussing the culture of “Bush paranoia.”

“It has been the weirdest six years — especially if you’re trying to perform in a city like Dallas or you’re down in Texas. Like there’s been a kind of self-imposed censorship. But I feel a sea-change coming on — especially since the November elections,” Bernhard says.

Less than a year ago, she was still feeling the sting for making anti-Bush criticisms.

In June, while promoting her show “Everything Bad & Beautiful,” which stops at the Majestic Theatre on Friday, Bernhard appeared on “The View.” Remember, this was daytime talk show’s old guard, but Meredith Viera had already jumped ship.

Barbara Walters brought up Laura Bush.

And Bernhard described the first lady’s apathetic-seeming demeanor as being “heavily medicated.”

And that’s when co-panelist Elisabeth Hasselbeck flew into a neo-conservative tizzy.

The clip should be immortalized on YouTube.

“I walked into the perfect storm. Star Jones knew she was getting fired, so she had her bone to pick. Elisabeth Hasselbeck was ramping up to become the right-wing spokesperson on the show: She thought it was the perfect opportunity for her to flex her political muscle. And without Meredith Viera — who was the only voice of reason — it was like — these chicks have gone fucking postal. But you know, it was perfect. I just laid back and watched the whole thing unfold without getting too involved.”

Bernhard did try to defend herself — by mentioning that Laura Bush says nothing when her husband slashes education budgets.

But no one could hear the guest because Hasselbeck and Jones just talked right over Bernhard.

“Well, that’s the problem. These chicks don’t shut up. They’re the worst possible example of why women shouldn’t be in power positions — because nobody listens. They’re like these harpy bitches, which has become second-nature to that show.”

As for the new-and-improved version of “The View,” Bernhard is reluctant to sing Rosie O’Donnell’s praises.

“You must remember, for 10 years Rosie was in total denial — pretended to be something else. My hat is off to her in a certain way. But for somebody like me, who has walked the sexual line and been very forthright and hasn’t had anything handed to her, I’m not impressed,” Bernhard says. “I’ve always paid the price for being outspoken and completely being in everybody’s face: whether it was the gay community trying to make me their spokesperson; or the straight community saying I was too sexually ambiguous,” Bernhard continues. “In this day and age, it’s pretty easy to be outspoken — with all the blogging and shit. I like Rosie, but I don’t think she’s a revelation.”

Perhaps Bernhard will give Rosie a run for her money.

Bernhard’s Dallas visit will reunite her with Jack E. Jett, a gay bomb-thrower in his own right.

When production for Jett’s now-defunct talk show “The Queer Edge” moved from Haltom City to Burbank, Calif., Jett and Bernhard joined forces.

It was a potent and weird cocktail that worked — although no one in North Texas got to see the show, which aired on the QTV network.

But the twosome are trying to keep their chat-show dreams alive.

“We’re pitching the resurgence of our talk show. But won’t be called ‘The Queer Edge’ because we’re going to open it up to everybody. We’ve been spending some time together, finding producers who will take our project and get it set up. Places like Bravo,” she explains.

It’s been almost six years since Sandra Bernhard performed in Dallas.

I ask her if she’ll be doing anything special for the gig — in case North Texans should slap themselves silly if they miss it. And in true Bernhard style, she ends our interview with a threat.

“Oh, honey. Every time I walk onstage, it’s special. You all had better come out. The world has become so ‘American Idol,’ so cookie-cutter. Everybody is laying up on their asses at home — not supporting the great artists,” she says. “So you better get all the queens, the drag queens and dykes. If I do not see the place sold out, I will be readying everybody to filth.”

[sakerabegum]

Rockwall Farmers Market At The Historic Downtown Square

Looking for an exciting way to spend your Saturday mornings? Look no further than the Rockwall Farmers Market at the Historic Downtown Square! This vibrant market is home to dozens of local vendors offering fresh produce, handmade crafts, and delicious snacks. But it's more than just a shopping destination - it's a community hub where neighbors come together to support small businesses and enjoy each other's company. In this blog post, we'll look clat what makes the Rockwall Farmers Market so special and why you nt to experience all the fun! Harbor Rockwall

What You'll Find at the Rockwall Farmers Market

The Rockwall Farmers Market is a vibrant and bustling hub of activity that offers visitors an exciting shopping experience. At the market, you'll find an array of fresh produce, handmade crafts, artisanal foods, and much more.

One of the highlights of the Rockwall Farmers Market is its incredible selection of locally-grown fruits and vegetables. From juicy peaches to crisp apples to sweet corn, there's always a wide variety of seasonal produce available for purchase.

In addition to fresh produce, the market also features a diverse range of vendors selling everything from homemade jams and jellies to organic meats and cheeses. You can even pick up some delicious baked goods or grab lunch from one of the many food trucks on-site.

Beyond food products, you'll discover unique handcrafted items such as pottery, jewelry, candles, and soaps made by local artisans. These make perfect gifts or souvenirs to remember your trip to Historic Downtown Square in Rockwell!

With so much to explore at the Rockwell Farmers Market every weekend (Saturdays), it's no wonder why locals consider it one of their favorite destinations in town!

The History of the Rockwall Farmers Market

The Rockwall Farmers Market has a rich history that dates back to the late 1800s when local farmers would gather at the downtown square to sell their produce. The market was an important hub for commerce and community activity, where locals could stock up on fresh produce while catching up with friends and neighbors.

Over time, the market grew in popularity and became a beloved institution in Rockwall. In the early 1900s, it expanded to include crafts, baked goods, and other homemade items. People from all over town would come out to support local artisans and entrepreneurs.

Despite some setbacks throughout its history – including a period of decline during World War II – the Rockwall Farmers Market was an important part of the community fabric. It underwent a major renovation in 2008 that helped revitalize market interest among vendors and customers.

Today, visitors can still experience that same vibrant energy that characterized the market over a century ago. With dozens of vendors selling everything from fresh fruits and vegetables to handmade candles and jewelry, there's something for everyone at this one-of-a-kind marketplace.

How the Rockwall Farmers Market Supports Local Farmers and Businesses

The Rockwall Farmers Market is more than just a place to buy fresh produce and locally sourced products. It's also a platform that supports local farmers and businesses.

By providing a space for vendors to sell their goods directly to consumers, the market cuts out the middleman and ensures that small-scale producers get fair compensation for their hard work. This benefits the farmers financially and helps them establish personal connections with customers, which can lead to repeat business.

In addition, the market encourages entrepreneurship by offering opportunities for new vendors to showcase their products alongside established ones. This gives small businesses the exposure they might not otherwise have had while promoting healthy competition among vendors.

Moreover, the Rockwall Farmers Market promotes sustainability by encouraging environmentally responsible farming practices. Many of its vendors use organic or sustainable growing methods that are better for both people and the planet.

Overall, supporting local farmers and businesses through initiatives like the Rockwall Farmers Market is essential for building strong communities based on mutual support and respect.

The Rockwall Farmers Market as a Community Hub

The Rockwall Farmers Market is more than just a place to buy fresh produce and locally-made products. It is a community hub where people connect, share ideas, and support one another.

At the market, you'll find farmers and vendors selling their goods, musicians providing live entertainment, and local organizations promoting their causes. It's an opportunity for residents of all ages to gather in one place and celebrate what makes Rockwall unique.

The market has become a popular destination for weekend families who want to spend quality time together while supporting local businesses. Kids can learn about where their food comes from by talking with the farmers or participating in educational activities hosted at the market. Harbor Rockwall

Community events like pop-up yoga classes or cooking demonstrations are also held at the market, encouraging healthy lifestyles among residents. The sense of camaraderie that comes from sharing these experiences helps build strong relationships within the community.

The Rockwall Farmers Market is essential in uniting locals around a common goal: supporting small-scale agriculture and entrepreneurship while fostering a sense of community pride.

Conclusion

The Rockwall Farmers Market at Historic Downtown Square is a must-visit for anyone searching for fresh produce and unique artisanal products. The market's rich history and dedication to supporting local farmers and businesses make it a valuable asset to the community.

It provides a platform for small-scale producers to showcase their goods and serves as a social hub where residents can come together and connect with one another. Whether you're looking for farm-fresh veggies or want to soak up some local flavor, the Rockwall Farmers Market has something for everyone.

So next time you find yourself in Rockwall on Saturday morning, be sure to stop by this vibrant outdoor market. You won't regret it!

[practicalsolarpunk]

Preserving the Harvest: Apples

It wouldn’t be fall in my part of the world without apples everywhere. My two favorite ways to preserve them are apple butter and applesauce, both with lots of cinnamon! If you’ve only ever had store bought applesauce, please, do yourself a favor and make a small batch yourself, it is so much better!

First things first: what kind of apples?

We want baking apples, ones that don’t have a lot of juice. Jonagold, honeycrisp, and winesap are my preferred varieties. I’ll sometimes mix varieties, if I don’t have enough of one for a whole batch.

If you live within a reasonable distance from an orchard, go there and ask about seconds. These are the ones that have some damage and aren’t going to store for very long. They’re usually a bit cheaper!

Apple Butter

(Makes 5 pints)

14 apples

3 3/4 cups brown sugar

1/2 cup of cider vinegar

1 tbsp. + 2 cinnamon sticks

Sprinkling of ground cloves

There’s a few ways you can approach this: on the stove, in the oven, or in an electric roaster. I’ve done all three, and I think my preferred way is the roaster, mostly because it can hold the most at once*!

Peel, core, and quarter the apples. Put them in whatever you’re using and cook until soft. Press through a sieve or food mill. Add in remaining ingredients and cook on medium (350°f) for three or so hours, until it’s thick enough to mound up on a spoon. Remember to fish out the cinnamon sticks, if they end up in a jar, they could make it too cinnamon-y, supposedly. (I don’t think there’s any such thing, but others apparently do.)

Now can it! Jars, lids, and bands should be washed and checked for chips and flaws beforehand. Jars should be heated to near boiling or boiling, lids should be warmed slightly.

Ladle the butter into the jars, leaving 1/4 inch headspace. Put the lids and bands on and return to the water bath. Bring to a boil and process for 10 minutes.

[photo id: a line of wide mouth pint mason jars, filled with dark brown apple butter.]

Applesauce

Apples

Water

Cinnamon

Peel, core, and quarter the apples. Place in a pot with just enough water to keep from burning or sticking. Cook over medium heat, lowering it if necessary to keep from boiling over.

When the apples are soft, add some cinnamon, less than you think you’re going to want. Mash the apples, or run them through a sieve or food mill. I prefer to leave some chunks, but others prefer a smoother sauce.

[photo id: a silver stock pot on a black cooktop. The pot is nearly full of pale, mashed apple.]

Taste it. Add more cinnamon if you want. Yay, it’s done!

Now, this can be canned or frozen, it works well either way. For freezing, just allow it to cool, then put it in containers suitable for freezing, mark it with the date**, and freeze!

For canning:

You’ll need jars, lids, and rings, washed and checked for chips or flaws.

Heat the jars in a pot of water. When you’re about 5 minutes out from canning, heat the lids slightly in a small pot on the stove. The goal is to warm them - the water should not even simmer.

Once everything is good and hot, it’s time to can! Ladle the sauce into the jars - a wide funnel specifically for canning is super helpful! - leaving about an inch of headspace. Put on the lids and rings and back in the pot of boiling (or close) water we go! Process in boiling water for 20 minutes. Don’t start timing it until it’s boiling.

Now, you can leave your jars in the pot to cool after they’ve processed, or you can take them out. This is one of those things that people seem to have very strong opinions about, but I’ve done it both ways without issue. The important thing is to leave them alone as much as possible for 24 hours, to make sure they seal.

[photo id: a line of mason jars filled with brown applesauce.]

*I use the recipe as guidelines and double or triple it. This works with butters because they are just cooked down, we’re not trying to get a jelly-like texture. I don’t recommend doubling with jams and jellies.

**it’s so important with preserving to label everything! This makes it easier to rotate through foods, using the oldest first!

Canning resources:

https://www.healthycanning.com/wp-content/uploads/USDA-Complete-Guide-to-Home-Canning-2015-revision.pdf

https://www.freshpreserving.com/canning-101.html

[sonderthroughthestreets]

Hi! Idk what came over me but I thought an AU where Sander’s kid is anti-Bowie was the most hilarious thing thanks to @hidden-joy @kylesbishops and @sanderijzermans so I wrote it skdjdj

Disclaimer: it’s all fun and chaos and I don’t really know anything about how to write kids

x, x, x, x, credit to the chaos 🤪

The day Sander Driesen hears the words come out of his child’s mouth is the day he wonders if this is his child at all.

He’s standing there, leather jacket, white t-shirt and all, bleached hair icy even in the summer sun, and he looks down at the small stature in front of him. Grey-green eyes, dark locks and an air of confidence that could only be learned from a certain music-loving individual fill his sight. There’s so much innocence standing before him but a driven insistence breaks through the words spoken.

“Dad,” he hears. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but...I don’t really like David Bowie all that much.”

Sander thinks he’s lost his senses. He is definitely not hearing right. Hell, he’s only a man in his early thirties, he could not be this hard of hearing already. He tries to brace himself on the couch from falling over. Shit, he’s also too young to feel this frail.

“Wh-what do you mean you don’t like David Bowie all that much?”

The question comes out in gasps of air, ragged and winded, like he can’t believe what’s happening. He feels like his world’s spinning, like he’s entered another dimension, like there was no way, absolutely no way, his child doesn’t like David Bowie.

Denial is a pretty powerful thing, though...

See, when Alexandra Driesen was born, she brought light and life to Sander and Robbe’s eyes. She had a chubby face and squishy cheeks and eyes the colour of a summer storm. Her dark hair had been a blessing to match Robbe’s. Everything about her was as perfect as it could get. And then came the perpetual frustrations of parenthood with the screaming and the crying.

Sleep was something to be cherished at the Driesen-Ijzermans household. A few day-naps here and a doze-off there. But God, oh God, did Alexandra know how to cry in the middle of the night. Robbe and Sander spent hours upon hours holding her and swaying her and rocking her on a chair. Sander had read that sometimes music helps so he’d even done all that. Bowie usually floated in the shriek-filled room during these times and yet, Alexandra just wept.

“Come on, baby, just a little bit of sleep. Don’t you get tired of screaming all night?” Sander asked in that exhausted tone of parentese. He held her against the crook of his neck and walked around in sweats until he saw Robbe enter the room with blood-shot eyes and curls disarrayed.

“She’s still crying?” he asked with a rasp in his voice.

“She literally won’t stop and I don’t know what to do, I’ve tried everything. I’ve even got Bowie on for her,” he said.

Robbe took her from his arms and swayed her a little, cooing and kissing her tiny head.

“It’s kind of loud, though,” Robbe said to him as he then stepped over to turn off the music.

And in an instant miracle, the house was all quiet.

It seems that’s what’s always happened and Sander just hadn’t noticed it. Alexandra settled into Robbe’s chest and stretched her mouth in a heavy yawn. Her warmth radiated and glowed through Robbe, but Sander was stunned. He’s completely shocked.

“You-she-“ he stuttered clumsily for a bit. “But it was Bowie,” he said weakly.

How could his own daughter not feel at peace with Bowie? It was a connection he held with him, something connecting him and Robbe and what he hoped would connect their child to them in this little family.

“Hmmm,” Robbe hums pensively. “Maybe Bowie’s not her thing.”

“Not her thing?” Sander just about exploded. Then he suddenly remembered Alexandra’s finally gone to sleep and whispered, seething. “That is not our child!”

“Biologically, no. Legally and emotionally, yes,” smirked Robbe. “Calm down, babe, she’ll learn to like him soon enough. For now, how about we hold off on Bowie for a bit, yeah?”

He swayed her just a little more, just to really make sure she’s easing into sleep and then set her gently back down in her crib.

“How long?” Sander muttered and Robbe gave him a confused look. “How long without Bowie?”

Robbe contemplated.

“Maybe we give it six months or so,” he said.

And now it was Sander who wanted to weep. -

As the months and years went on, Alexandra had gone on without her Bowie-loving phase, only mildly being interested in the lightning bolt plushies and the songs blasting on road trips and the shirts Sander would get for her. Robbe says it just takes time for kids to get into stuff. That it’s better to leave it there in the open for them than to shove it down their throats.

“It’s barely any shoving,” Sander had grumbled.

“I know, babe. But I know how you can get sometimes,” Robbe had placed a soothing kiss upon his lips.

Still, Sander’s worries were increasingly growing.

Then a few years later, they’d adopted another beautiful girl. Mia was a radiant vision of blonde curls and brown eyes. They held a similar warmth that Robbe’s eyes held and Sander couldn’t be happier to lose himself in pools of coffee or dark, earthy soils or any other sort of metaphor for his favourite kind of brown.

To his relief, though, Mia loved listening to Bowie. She loved playing with the lightning bolt plushy and wearing all the shirts and as she grew, she and Sander had lots of music jam sessions blasting Bowie throughout the house. Alexandra was enticed into joining for a bit in the beginning but as time went on, Sander found it that she was making more and more excuses to not be in the same room when Bowie was mentioned.

“Uh, I got homework, Dad,” she’d nervously run her fingers through her hair.

“Uh, Papa needs help with dinner I think,” she’d run out with a tight smile.

“Group project due soon. Léon’s being a piece of shit and not pulling his weight at all.”

“Language,” Robbe would chastise coming around the corner.

“He’s being a dick?” she suggested.

“Fuck him.”

“Sander!”

“Sorry.”

Her interests lay instead in skateboarding with her friends, headphones in her ears listening to rap: BROCKHAMPTON and Stormzy with even a little Ed Sheeran in the mix, and keeping her hair as short as possible. She’d had a bit of a habit wearing overgrown shirts like Robbe did. But Sander found that endearing and he didn’t really think it was a case of ‘not-like-other-girls’ syndrome. He and Robbe just let her wear whatever she wanted.

And in fact, it was at thirteen years of age that Alexandra came out to the family as a boy. Sander remembers it clearly with them all huddled on the couch looking at the person in front of them with beady eyes, waiting.

“Dad, Papa, Mia. I think I’m a boy. I think I’m trans and I’d like to formally introduce myself to you all. I’m Alexander, or just Alex. And I use he/they pronouns.”

Sander had wanted to tear up, emotions flooding inside his rib cage. Happy tears, though, a joyous occasion where his son felt comfortable enough to tell them about this part of himself. That he and Robbe had created a space where he felt safe enough. Loved enough.

“I kept Alexander ‘cause, Sander,” he gestured to Sander. “But really, Alex is fine.”

And Sander wanted to cry all over again.

They’d all been encased in a huge family hug with Mia chirping that she’d ‘always wanted a big brother.’

Robbe and Sander had been quite supportive of it all, calling the school to change both the name and preferred name and asking if Alex was considering wearing a binder or getting a proper haircut. “Yes” to the haircut. “Hold off for a bit” on the binder. He’d whined a “Daaaaaad” when Sander ruffled the short brown locks. Most of Alex’s friends were cool with it, too and while it wasn’t all smooth sailing, he’d never run out of love from his family.

It was a big change and everything, but Sander thought, well...as long as he had his Bowie-loving children, it was all fine. -

It’s his worst nightmare. It’s the stuff that haunts you from the depths of the worst kind of hell, making your limbs feel like jelly. He’s cursing every name and divine entity and he’s really hoping Robbe’s right about those parallel universes because he’d love to hop over to the one where this wasn’t happening right now.

Sander’s having a hard time even looking at Alex in the eye.

“Dad?” he hears his concerned voice.

“I think I need to sit down,” says Sander, grabbing the armrest of the couch, lowering himself onto the cushion.

“It’s really not a big deal,” says Alex.

“Not a big deal?” Sander looks at him with wide eyes. “My own son hates David Bowie.”

“I never said I-“

“The man who infinitely changed my life. Space Oddity, Life on Mars, Ziggy Stardust, Ashes to Ashes. None of them?” Sander waves his arms. “You’re telling me you like none of them?”

“They’re...fine, I guess,” Alex shrugs innocently with a cringe to his face.

“Fine?” Sander squeaks.

“What’s fine?” Robbe trudges to them overhearing the conversation.

“Your son hates Bowie,” Sander squints his eyes at him.

“I do not,” says Alex. “I’m just pretty indifferent to him. He’s not exactly my style,” he shrugs, his hoodie moving with the movement.

“And what is your style?” Robbe laughs as he comes up behind him to rub his shoulders. He looks up at Sander with long lashes and a questioning smile stretching across his face. They share one of those ‘parenting looks.’ The ones where they know it’s not all that serious. But Sander thinks it is.

“A bit of rap, a bit of hip hop, some pop, some mainstream,” Alex lists off. “Not exactly the ‘80s vibes in me,” he laughs.

Robbe cheers as their tastes in music are quite similar and he proceeds to carry out their very own handshake they’d created when Alex was nine. There’s a different one with Sander. Sander, who’s getting more and more agitated by this revelation.

“Oh, okay,” he pats his knees and stands up. “Well, if you two are having such a grand time hating Bowie and bonding over your own music, I’ll just take myself and leave. No child of mine doesn’t like David Bowie,” he says dramatically.

“Sander…” Robbe looks at him.

“Dad…” says Alex.

“No, no. It’s fine. Really,” he begrudgingly walks out of the living room, almost knocking into Mia on the way.

“What’s with him?” she blinks twice and points a finger back.

Robbe sighs as he looks back at Alex.

“Your father, he…” Robbe puts a hand on his shoulder. “Bowie’s practically his life and so are the two of you, so I guess it’s really important to him that you like him, too. He’s just gonna need some time with all this.”

His eyes are apologetic and he gives him a half-smile, hand leaving his shoulder.

Alex takes in the words while Mia wiggles herself onto the couch and finds the tv remote beside her.

“You finally told him about Bowie, huh?” she gives him a gravely sad look. One that says he’s about to be doomed.

Alex just lets out a stressed breath as Robbe follows to go find Sander.

What’s so special about David Bowie anyway?

————————————————————————

Part 2 is coming! IM SO SORRY SKDJJF I just need sleep and rest

[camdentown-library]

The flames in your eyes || ENG ver. Ethan Torchio x reader

❝ 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬. 𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚. 

𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐨𝐲, 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠. ❞

Genre: Fluff ;; romantic ;; slowburn

Pairing: Ethan Torchio x fem!reader

Warning: English is not my native language, I may have made grammatical errors. do not hesitate to correct me

N / A: The facts told are purely the fruit of my imagination, it is not my intention to do any wrong to any person mentioned, and above all the character of Ethan could (surely) not reflect the person in reality.

Happy reading to you all!

CHAPTER 1

The first rays of July had cast on the roofs of the houses in Rome, giving the off-white plaster and rosy tiles a golden sheen that tasted like honey. The wisteria were in bloom, as was the medlar tree under Marlena's house; the scent of life in the full act of her cycle, always knocked on her dining room window, filling it with sweet fragrances.

The girl used to take her place at the table during the late morning hours, surrounded by books and tomes quite old and gnawed by the dust, with the good resolution that even that day she would read and study those very boring pages of that equally boring examination. of Egyptology. The university summer session had already begun, she had just taken a couple of exams last June and was now preparing two more that she would take in the first weeks of September.

That time could seem apparently short, Marlena didn't care that much, what could ever distract her from her work? She had no friends, and by now, even though she had crossed the threshold of 21 years in the autumn, the girl was now completely extinct her naive youth, as well as her desire to laze.

The out of tune and unexpected sound of the intercom triggered her head bent over the books of the young woman, who after having heaved a sigh perhaps a little annoyed, she decided to get up from her chair, leave the dining room and cross the wide and not too long corridor in the shape of an "L" of his apartment, finally arriving at a brisk pace towards the device it had croaked in order to answer.

"Yes?" she asked quite firmly but not too cordially.

"I'm the postman, will you open me?" answered a stranger, as she pushed the button to open the gate.

Marlena therefore opened the heavy old door of her house, remaining patient to wait for the man to arrive at the door. Although she had lived in that condominium with her father for as long as she remembered it, she had not yet found a rational explanation for its lack of mailboxes. Was it because it was a palace built in the 1920s? Well that would explain the absence of an elevator as well, but a damn mailbox wouldn't be hard to add.

The man's gasping breath brought her back to reality as her eyes saw him peeking from the flight of stairs. Was he already that tired after not even crossing the second floor? The young woman wondered a little disappointed.

"Are you Madam Levavi?" the postman then asked, catching his breath and rummaging through her purse. Marlena wrinkled her nose instinctively.

"Ahm ... not madam, I'm her daughter" she replied shaking her head, what could that postman ever care if she was "miss" or "madam"? The girl lightly bit the inside of her cheek as a reproach.

"Here you are. How many floors are there still?" She asked the man wiping her sweaty forehead with a handkerchief after giving her the mail.

"Two more ..." Marlena replied disinterestedly as she closed the door, observing her letters.

Bills for electricity, water, the tax to be paid for the next university year and ... a letter?

Well, it certainly wasn't sent by her father...

The girl looked at the text of that letter once more, rereading it and rereading it several times, wrapped in a silence that was probably inherent in memories that clouded her common sense, while slowly after taking a few steps back, she gently placed her back to the wall.

"Dear Marlena,

I know perfectly well that it might have been easier to call you, but you know I've always enjoyed writing you letters.

Unfortunately I noticed that in the last few I sent you you didn't answer, I guess it's because the university keeps you very busy ...

However, I learned that your father is out of Italy on a business trip and he will be away until the end of August; It seemed only right to invite you to spend these last months of summer in our house outside the city.

I know that since your mom left, you haven't had the desire to visit us anymore, but I think it would do you good to change the air for a while. The place is quiet, there is the sea and also a large and extensive countryside with a pine forest and the locals are really friendly and helpful.

You can also bring Lapo if you want, I know you are very close.

Either way, let me know your verdict.

A strong hug.

Grandmother Agata.”

She had distant memories of that house, distant but still happy. He remembered when he woke up early in the morning with grandmother Agata and grandfather Laertes to be able to go to the sea and his little hands while looking for hermit crabs and shells on the shore, as he remembered the music in the square and the laughter echoing in the same way as the bells of the church on Sunday, everyone was happy ... and life seemed to be less unfair to those who deserved it less, it tasted like jam and fruit jellies, salt on the lips and bees flying.

Marlena's chest swelled with air, as if she had been holding her breath until then...perhaps because diving into one's childhood was like floundering in a stormy sea pretending to stay afloat.

The cheerful barking of her dog Lapo brought the young woman back to the present, who decided to place the letters on a window sill not far from the front door and set off together with the playful animal towards the kitchen. Lapo was a nice Bernese Mountain Dog, with a black, brown and white coat. It had been given to her five years ago, perhaps because her father had sensed that even his absence had created in the heart of his only daughter, a sense of distressing loneliness, which had consumed her to the bone making her totally apathetic for certain verses.

But Lapo, Lapo had saved her from her, with Lapo she spoke and shared gestures of affection, such as caresses and little licks between her fingers and hair. Sometimes Marlena fell asleep in her bed, with the bulky dog ​​on her, because feeling her warm and humid breath on her blankets reminded her in her sleep that she was not alone in the dark of the night. As long as Lapo's heart had beaten the young girl she was not afraid of having to wake up or sleep.

Although she tried to convince herself that staying in her comfort zone would be easier than answering "yes" to her grandmother's request, a part of her was again attracting her to that letter; her gaze was captured by the horizon of her mind, while in the distance she could almost hear the sounds and flavors of a place almost too fairytale to be part of the material world.

"I know I should answer..." she murmured as she was intent on washing the peel of a red apple in the kitchen sink. Meanwhile the dog sat up looking at her intensely while she wagged his tail waiting for her.

"...It's just that, that place...and then I should finish studying, I have an exam to take at the end of the summer, Lapo" but the dog tilted his head in disappointment and then got up and trotted out of the room, looking for of who knows what amusement, leaving Marlena to her thoughts, as she bit into the freshly dried fruit with the kitchen towel.

All of this would only be for a little over a month and a half, just a month and a half and then she would leave it all behind her again, as she did a long time ago.

“Hello grandma. I'm Marlena..."

Marlena after putting the letter back next to her bedside table, she grabbed the cell phone not far away and typed some numbers on the screen, not too convincingly, and then brought the object to her ear.

There were those ten seconds of waiting that seemed the stroke of half a century, until a voice said "Hello?".

Marlena had brought two large bags with her. One for clothes and the other full of junk such as: books, objects for the dog, tricks and everything that for her mind, not so familiar with travel, she considered indispensable. She was not so convinced that both of them would enter the trunk, but the exemplary ability to know how to adapt and make do with her grandfather always left her with amazement on the edge of her lips.

It took two days before grandfather Laerte's small and overly backward FIAT Punto made its peerless entrance next to the bottle-green gate of the small cloister of the Marlena palace.

The man had taken more or less ten minutes just to park, the niece had wondered how long it would take him to get there and start again.

The young woman was sitting in the back seats, together with Lapo. She held in her hands a small bunch of tulips that Laertes had brought her, made by herself. He said to her:

"I went for a walk in the countryside and tried to capture the most beautiful of all, like my granddaughter!" followed by a proud, croaking laugh. Laertes had always been a proud and incurable romantic, without ever giving up some of her drama, grandmother Agata did nothing but remind her of it in her letters.

Like when Marlena pointed out to him, that the steering wheel of the car was too damaged for the latter to be considered in accordance with the law, but he had always replied that a good soldier and partisan would appeal to his driving experience and a little 'of elbow grease, in order to be sure that the itinerary of the journey would be peaceful and without unpleasant hitches.

Lapo let out an enthusiastic bark when the croaking car left the endless concrete of the highway behind, and then took a narrow, winding, uphill road that would have led them to the small town.

Her gaze stared blankly at what was running, like tape in a movie camera, out the window; She saw the buildings of the city become less present, as well as the stench of smog, then there was a long stretch of highway, immersed in the wheat fields and every now and then some small farm or spare parts industry or other jobs would emerge.

In the car there would have been complete silence, had it not been for the old radio which played an entire disc of all of Lucio Dalla's masterpieces; Marlena's grandfather liked that singer, but not in the same way chatting while driving, because according to him it would have increased the chances of road accidents by 50%, and frankly, the granddaughter didn't mind at all this acknowledgment ... she didn't even know where she should have started and however much her relatives tried to make her feel at ease, she imagined herself as a stranger, a stranger, who had knocked on their door and was now just trying to learn and remember their common manners.

"If you look to the right you will see the sea, Marlena" Laertes informed her, while he struggled with the steering wheel at every bend, but he did not dare to make even a moan under stress. The girl decided to accept those words, and looking out (after rolling down the window) a crisp air of salt pervaded her nostrils like the balm of a mint. Her eyes tried to show as little as possible the defeat of an amazement that had overwhelmed her like a raging wave, making her heart pound.

The sea. Marlena loved the sea. And for a few moments she was wondering what she had forced her to shut up in the house all that time, but then her mind went back to static and clear. She knew why, and there was no other reason to get her back together, even if it was difficult.

Yet there seemed to be few people around the streets, perhaps because at that time anyone with a minimum of wit would have holed up in the cool four walls of their home, just to escape the scorching heat that did not yield until the stroke of five in the afternoon .

By now it was almost two in the afternoon when Laertes' car passed the threshold of the square of the small town, while the attentive (even if apparently lost) gaze of his granddaughter observed everything in detail.

Nothing seems to have changed in that place since the last one who went there. The street was always covered with the usual, old and coarse slabs of white stone and eroded by the weather, as well as the various shops that surrounded the square and the small houses side by side, glazed with a fresh off-white plaster and dark brown roofs, the fountain in the center, and the small restaurant with its balcony overlooking the long pine forest that extended at the foot of the modest hill that supported the town.

A jolt suddenly shook Marlena, when her grandfather decided to pull over and pull up the handbrake of his FIAT, thus causing a slight recoil unexpectedly enough to suddenly wake the girl from her thoughts. She cleared her throat, while she opened her door, so that Lapo could finally trot and wag his tail excitedly around, on the other hand she didn't blame him, it must have been hard for a dog to stay good in the car for so many hours.

"Here we are!" proclaimed the elderly man putting the car keys in his pocket and then ring the bell of the small house next to FIAT "Your grandmother will be so happy to see you, I bet she will have prepared ciambelle with red wine to celebrate your reunion" he added while he waited for the woman he mentioned to open to him, already anticipating on his lips the pungent and sweet taste of those sweets he loved so much.

"So I suppose you made at least thirty" commented the young woman ironically, as she dragged out the two bags with extreme difficulty, attracting the attention of Laertes who, hastily adjusting his frizzy white hair, hastened to reach his niece to give her your support.

“Ah don't worry, kid. I'll take care of it, maybe you can ring the door, your grandmother has now gone deaf as a bell...” he said as he gave a slight snort and then muttered something.

"C’mon, grandpa" Marlena replied then raising her eyes to the sky trying not to smile, how melodramatic could that man be?

After pressing her finger on the bell again, the girl waited for someone to answer and hearing the approach of some quick steps together with the rubbing of flip-flops on the floor, made her realize that Agata had finally heard their arrival. Marlena did not even have time to greet the elderly lady, who took her in her arms, wrapping her in an embrace that caught her unprepared and to which she did not respond immediately.

“Oh my love! I’m so happy to see you again! But look how you have grown! It seems only yesterday when you reached mid-thigh and now...” the hands a little gnarled, but from the soft fingertips of the woman, gently took the face of her niece like a cup, as if to feel if her presence was only fantasy or reality "...You are a woman to all intents and purposes" she whispered and then fussed with kisses all over her face, while Marlena whining pretending to be somehow annoyed.

After climbing a short flight of stairs that led to the house located on the upper floor, the girl's nostrils and consciousness were flooded with memories and sensations already savored. She observed the now old floor of the house, granite tiles that alternated with one hand painted and another not; Marlena rejoiced with a touch of amusement when she as a child she spent boring afternoons playing on them, jumping only on the decorated ones because according to her imagination those remains were made of incandescent lava.

The walls were always the same, covered with a light blue paint and slightly lumpy at times, she could feel it, when the index and middle fingers of her right hand absently brushed the surface.

The house of Marlena's grandparents was very simple and perhaps apparently a little cramped. Having opened the wooden entrance door, after having passed the landing and the stairs, she had in front of her a corridor that extended along to her right, thus marking the various doors of each room that the house gathered inside. Almost parallel to the entrance there was the kitchen door on the opposite wall, without doors, next to it the bathroom door, and then the door to the room of the two elderly spouses. At the end of the corridor there was a small balcony with the railing covered with hanging vases where, like a multicolored waterfall, a thick branching of coral red bucanville came out which, in addition to poetically letting itself fall from the small niche, climbed elegant and graceful on the handrail of the then hug the outside walls of the house.

Marlena took advantage of it, to be able to peep there, while she deeply breathed the fragrant and velvety scent of those petals, mixed with the sea breeze that came from beyond the pine forest that surrounded the town. She observed the small houses around her while if she winked she could distinguish the clear line of the flat and calm sea that merged in perfect alchemy with the clear sky on the horizon.

The young woman tried in every way to convince herself that that enchanted place, that little corner of paradise had never failed her...but she suddenly proclaimed herself foolish for having thought such a cynical thing in the least.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

[lostcoves]

ft. tendou satori x fem!reader

genre: fluff & a lil angst 

wc & warnings: 3.1k | none

premise: tendou satori has a massive crush on you. could performing with you in beauty and the beast be his chance to finally get with you?

tendou satori loved you.

plain and simple, he loved you. he loved the way you walked, the way you talked, everything about you screamed beauty and grace. you laughed at his poor jokes and smiled whenever he smiled at you.

tendou didn’t understand why you were so kind to him.

you were a beauty while he was a beast.

an irony that would come forth during shiratorizawa academy’s annual charity fundraiser. 

“hello i’m (l/n) (f/n) from the drama club!” you greeted tendou’s homeroom class one cloudy morning. tendou was in the middle of trying to balance a pencil on his finger when you began to speak about the annual charity fundraiser. apparently, the drama club was putting on a musical and needed more male participants.

“you should try out, tendou-san!” his classmate– a freckle faced boy by the name of kawasaki hitoshi– proposed to tendou. tendou paused from balancing his pencil and asked, “huhhhhh? how come?”

“cuz everyone knows about your massive crush on (l/n)-san,” kawasaki snickered. other boys joined in on the snickering and kawasaki exclaimed to you, “(l/n)-san! tendou-san will participate!”

your eyes brightened at the mention of tendou’s name, “really?!”

“well, i mean– oh thank you, tendou-san!” you cut him off with an embrace. tendou’s cheeks turned as red as his hair at your touch, you were so soft and squishy. you released tendou from the hug (much to his dismay) and handed him a flyer, “auditions are tomorrow! can’t wait to see you there!”

tendou watched as you scurried off to the next classroom before examining the flyer. it was in bright, obnoxious colors with the words ‘BEAUTY AND THE BEAST AUDITIONS’ in bold. 

oh the irony.

─────────────────

“you’re trying out for a musical, tendou-senpai?!” goshiki yelled at tendou during lunch. tendou shot him a stare and signaled him to lower his voice. goshiki covered his mouth and nodded before resuming his eating. 

ushijima, reon, and semi stared at tendou and the four didn’t speak, unsure of what to say to one another.

“will this interfere with volleyball practice?” ushijima asked.

“i don’t think so,” replied tendou before picking up a chunk of white rice, “the practices would be during school hours since it’s a charity event and what not.”

ushijima nodded, “good. you should do it then.”

tendou choked on his rice, “are you serious?”

semi nodded along in agreement, “i think so too. i mean, why not? now you’ll have an excuse to be around (l/n)-san without being a creep.”

tendou scoffed at semi’s commentary and fought the urge to give him the finger. reon chuckled at the exchanged and added his two cents, “i think it would be a great idea, as well. it would also look great on college applications from a community service and extracurriculars side of things.”

“not you too, reon..” tendou groaned, “i’m not–”

“hi, tendou-san!”

tendou nearly screamed and whipped his head around to see you standing behind him, smiling happily. tendou cleared his throat and attempted to be a cool guy, “heyyyyyy, (l/n)-san! what’s uppppp!”

“just wanted to say hi!” you answered, batting those gorgeous lashes of yours, “you’re still coming to auditions tomorrow, right?”

tendou looked back at his friends, all of which gave him double thumbs up.

“yeah, of course! wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

tendou just dug his own grave.

─────────────────

tendou nearly forgot how big shiratorizawa’s auditorium was. it felt daunting, as he stepped inside and made a beeline towards the stage. a group of students stood by the stage, practicing their lines and singing their songs. 

“tendou-san! you made it!” tendou looked down and saw you approaching him. he swallowed his nerves and greeted you with a smile, “heyyyyy, (l/n)-san! how you doing today?”

“i’m doing great!” you answered, “are you ready for your audition?”

“yup!” tendou smiled, “but if you don’t mind me asking, (l/n)-san, who are you trying out for?”

“i’m going for belle!”

the lead? of course, you would get the lead. tendou remembered seeing you perform in the blossoming of kamiya etsuko where you played the titular character. you brought tears to the audience’s eyes with your amazing performance. 

“oh that’s cool! i– er.. i’m going for the beast!”

damnit, tendou! were you trying to embarrass yourself?

your eyes sparkled like diamonds at tendou’s words, “really?!”

tendou masked his anxiety with a laugh, “haha! for sure!”

“i can’t wait to see you perform!” you gave tendou a high five, “break a leg!”

oh he would break a leg, all right. hopefully, in a literal fashion.

─────────────────

“tendou satori?” the director– an over zealous english teacher by the name of hasegawa ryuji– called tendou onto the stage. tendou felt like his legs were jelly, wobbling with each step he took. he gripped onto his sheet music tightly, as he made his way on stage. 

“what song will you be singing for us today?” hasegawa-sensei grinned. 

“i’ll be singing–” tendou scanned the crowd and found you among a group of girls. you locked eyes with him and mouthed, ‘break a leg! you got this!’ to him, “–if i can’t love her.”

not many people knew tendou’s secret but he took vocal lessons from the ripe age of five and until he entered high school. his parents forced him to go in an effort to improve his social skills and make him more approachable. while it didn’t improve his social skills, tendou gained a nice singing voice.

“you can begin at the start of the music.”

tendou took a deep breath.

do it for (y/n).

the music began to play.

and in my twisted face there's not the slightest trace of anything that even hints of kindness and from my tortured shape no comfort, no escape i see, but deep within is utter blindness

tendou’s voice was gentle yet powerful.

hopeless as my dream dies as the time flies love a lost illusion helpless unforgiven cold and driven to this sad conclusion

tendou pictured all those times people made fun of his looks. every person who laughed at him, every person who shunned him. he channeled that into his singing and thought of you, you with your kind nature and you with your warmth.

no beauty could move me no goodness improve me no power on earth, if i can't love her no passion could reach me no lesson could teach me how I could have loved her and make her love me too if i can't love her, then who?

who would love him? tendou was but a beast. hideous and unworthy. 

long ago i should have seen all the things i could have been careless and unthinking, i moved onward

tendou looked out among the crowd and stared at you. 

no pain could be deeper no life could be cheaper no point anymore, if i can't love her no spirit could win me no hope left within me hope i could have loved her and that she'd set me free hut it's not to be if i can't love her let the world be done with me

i could only wish you could love me, (y/n).

the music came to an end and a shush fell over the auditorium. tendou’s cheeks flushed a warm red, did he mess up?

applause suddenly exploded among the crowds. tears were in the eyes of hasegawa-sensei, “that was amazing, tendou-san! your voice was just perfect!”

“o- oh!” tendou cleared his throat, “thanks..”

he could only hope he was good enough to get the role.

─────────────────

“are you going to check the cast list?” ushijima asked a few days after the auditions. tendou saw people crowding outside hasegawa-sensei’s classroom, the bulletin board containing the cast list for beauty and the beast.

“i rather not,” the redhead grumbled. 

“tendou-san!”

tendou perked up at the sound of his name. it was you, standing before him with that dazzling smile of yours. 

“wanna check the cast list with me?” you offered to tendou. 

how could he say no to you?

“sure thing!” he chuckled before approaching the cast list with you. the crowd parted like the red sea upon your arrival. tendou’s eyes started from the bottom of the list, thinking he got an ensemble role.

“hey tendou-san?”

“yes, (l/n)-san?”

“look up.”

tendou looked at the top of the cast list and choked when he read who got the role of the beast.

TENDOU SATORI – THE BEAST 

his eyes darted up above it and tendou nearly fainted.

(L/N) (F/N) – BELLE

tendou was in for a whirlwind.

─────────────────

tendou paced outside the auditorium, unsure if he should head inside. today was the first of ten six hour rehearsals for the musical and tendou was panicking. should he face the music or cower in fear?

“tendou-san? are you okay?”

shit, it was you. tendou couldn’t let you see him like this. he plastered on a grin and turned around to greet you, “hiya (l/n)-chan! how you doing!”

“i’m fine–” you cut yourself short, “–oh, (l/n)-san? that’s a new one. i like it.”

tendou laughed nervously, adverting his gaze from you. damnit, why did you have such an effect on him? 

“well, i’m heading to rehearsal so come along,” you grabbed him by the hand and dragged tendou into the auditorium. you were surprisingly strong for such a short person, or at least someone shorter than tendou. 

the auditorium was jam-packed with students conversing excitedly about the show. tendou felt as if he was the only one not completely invested in the show. after all, he only auditioned for you.

“attention, cast members!” hasegawa-sensei called everyone’s attention. he then launched into some speech about rules and expectations, to which tendou toned out. all he could focus on was you. 

rehearsal went by at an agonizingly slow pace. tendou managed to introduce himself to the rest of the cast, most of which knew him from the volleyball team. still unused to the environment, tendou stuck by your side like a lost puppy dog. 

tendou remembered sprinting out of the auditorium the moment hasegawa-sensei dismissed everyone from rehearsal. he wasn’t sure how he was gonna balance schoolwork, volleyball, and the musical. but the one thing he did was it would be worth it to spend more time with you.

nighttime fell over shiratorizawa academy by the time tendou got out of volleyball practice. he dragged himself out of the gym, not even bothering to see his goodbyes to his teammates from how exhausted he was. 

“tendou-san?” you approached the redhead outside the gym. tendou rubbed the guck out of his eyes and waved to you, “oh hey, (l/n)-san.”

“tired?” you offered tendou a sympathetic smile.

tendou nodded and let out a yawn, “very.”

“here,” you handed tendou some canned coffee, “this should help.”

“thanks,” he cracked it open and took a generous sip. tendou let out a satisfied sigh and smiled, “this is some good coffee.”

“glad you like it!” you returned tendou’s smile. tendou could feel his chest tightening at the sight, you were just.. beautiful. it wasn’t fair, you were too beautiful for this world.

“oh, by the way.. whatcha doing outside the gym?” tendou questioned to you.

your cheeks heated up, maybe from the cold air or maybe from embarrassment, “i– i just wanted to tell you that you did a great job at rehearsal today! that’s why..”

tendou’s chest tightened at the praise, “oh really? that means a lot, coming from you!”

“of course!” you brushed back a loose hair from your face, “and i wanted to extend an offer to you.”

“oh?” now tendou was intrigued. 

“if you need any help with rehearsing our one on one scenes, i’m more than happy to help! like our kissing scene!”

tendou grinned, “alrighty! thanks, (l/n)-chan!”

wait, rewind.

kissing scene?

─────────────────

tendou paced about outside of the auditorium. rehearsals were half way through and tendou had yet to confront the fact that he had to kiss you in the show. he should have had read the script ahead of time; what did he get himself into now?

“tendou-san, are you alrighty? you look pale in the face,” hasegawa-sensei greeted tendou by the doors to the auditorium. tendou nearly puked on his shoes but put up his typical tendou satori charade, “oh hey, sensei! how– er.. how are you doing?”

“i’m fine. tendou, what’s wrong? you can be honest with me,” answered hasegawa-sensei with a frown. tendou broke character and confessed to his director, “i’m scared about the kissing scene.”

hasegawa-sensei patted tendou on the back, “oh, it’s more than fine to have some first time jitters! if it makes you feel better, it will be a stage kiss. you won’t actually be kissing (l/n)-san.”

tendou wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or disappointed.

“tendou-san? hasegawa-sensei?” speak of the devil– or in your case, the angel.

“morning, (l/n)-san! ready for rehearsal?” hasegawa-sensei turned his attention to you with a grin. you nodded and fist-pumped the air, “ready as i could ever be! we got this today! right, tendou-san?”

“yup!” he chirped in response, trying his hardest to conceal his fear. 

did tendou really got this?

─────────────────

tendou laid on the auditorium’s dirty stage, eyes closed and pretending to be dead. this was the moment where he would be revived by true love’s kiss. he anxiously waited for you to pretend kiss him.

“please don’t leave me.. come back,” you stage-whispered your line, leaning in to “kiss” tendou on the forehead.

then the worst thing imaginable happened. 

some dust from the stage floor got up into tendou’s nose and he jerked upwards in an attempt to sneeze. his lips collided with yours in a messy kiss, the two of you kissing one another with wide eyes. 

tendou could only stare when you pulled away with wide eyes. he felt like vomiting, as the crowd in the auditorium fell silent. hasegawa-sensei broke the silence and exclaimed, “take five, people!”

tendou stormed out of the auditorium with you hot on his tail. he managed to find a quiet place to hide when you appeared, covering his face in shame. tendou looked back up at you and his voice croaked, “hey.. (l/n)-san..”

“what happened (l/n)-chan?” you asked. 

“i don’t think i have the right to call you that after what happened,” grumbled tendou in embarrassment. you took a seat next to him and rested your head against his shoulder, “hey it’s okay! i know it was an accident! the stage floor is so dusty, it’s only natural for you to sneeze.”

“that was my first kiss.”

“what?” you blinked once, then twice. your face erupted in a fierce blush, “oh– oh my god! it was?! d– did i take your f– first kiss?!”

“hey, hey!” tendou gently gripped you by the shoulders in an effort to calm you now. you stared at him with an erratic look in your eyes, “i– i’m so sorry! you should have had your first kiss with someone special!”

but you’re someone special, (y/n)-chan.

“i’m glad it was you.”

“wh– what?” you stammered.

“i’m glad my first accidental kiss was with you, (y/n)-chan,” tendou replied. 

your face flushed at his words, “n– now, i’m (y/n)-chan? god, y– you’re gonna be the death of me, tendou-san..”

“you can call me satori if you want,” tendou commented to you.

you smiled, “well.. okay, satori-kun. let’s head back to the auditorium.”

god, you were going to be the death of tendou satori.

and you two haven’t practiced the second kiss yet.

─────────────────

today was the day, opening night for shiratorizawa academy’s production of beauty and the beast. tendou was being held hostage by the makeup crew, as they applied his beast makeup. it itched, the fake fur itched against his skin. 

“we need tendou on stage in five!” the stage manager called for him. tendou rose from the makeup chair and examined himself in the mirror. the makeup crew did a great job, he truly looked like a beast. 

“ready to wow the crowd, satori-kun?” tendou turned around and found you standing in the doorway, dressed in belle’s village girl costume. god, you looked adorable. 

“ready whenever you are,” tendou gave you a thumbs up. you returned the thumbs up with a smile and extended a hand to tendou, “let’s wow this crowd.”

tendou took your hand and squeezed it, “let’s wow this crowd.”

the musical progressed quite smoothly, tendou nailing every line of dialogue and music. the crowd was mesmerized by his singing voice and acting skills, as well as yours. 

then it was time, time for the kisses.

tendou laid motionlessly on the ground, thankful that the tech crew dusted the floor beforehand. no more accidental kisses! you approached his still body with heartbreak in your eyes, “please don’t leave me.. come back.”

tendou felt your sweet lips against his forehead, his eyes opening wide and the music playing to play. he “transformed” before the crowd, morphing from a hideous beast into a handsome prince. 

tendou stood before you, dressed in his princely garments and smiling bright, “belle,” he greeted you breathlessly. 

nerves overtook tendou’s mind, as the second kiss– the kiss on the lips– quickly approached. he took a step forward and covered both of your lips with his hands, just as hasegawa-sensei taught him. 

then something unexpected happened.

you pressed your lips against his, a full blown kiss. tendou remained still as possible, unsure what to do. you– his crush– were kissing him. you were kissing him, tendou satori of all people.

fuck it, he thought to himself and allowed himself to get lost in the kiss. the curtains closed on the two of you kissing. tendou didn’t pull away, too into the kiss to realize what was happening. 

“wow,” tendou whispered when the kiss was broken. you touched your forehead to tendou’s and giggled, “that was great, satori-kun.”

“that almost felt.. real,” he sighed with a smile.

“that’s because it was,” you answered, “i like you, tendou satori.”

everything came to a standstill the moment those words came out of your mouth. you liked him? you liked tendou? for real? you weren’t kidding? you actually liked him for him?

“i like you, (l/n) (f/n),” tendou finally responded after a moment. you broke out into a grin and kissed him again, the two of you unaware that the curtains were rising. a shush fell over the crowd at the sight. you two didn’t realize that your mics were on for the long exchange.

“go tendou! go (l/n)!” 

the silence broke. the crowd erupted in cheers, essentially derailing the show. you and tendou looked out onto the crowd sheepishly, both of you holding one another’s hands.

the beast got with the beauty.

tendou couldn’t have asked for a better ending. 

[justfrozenthings]

A Summer to Remember

Paring: Anna/Kristoff

Rating: T

Word: 5,335

Notes: My piece for the Volume 5 Summer Lovin’ Frozine. To find the complete zine visit the @frozines blog. Huge thank you to @punkpoemprose for putting together another wonderful zine!

Summary: Kristoff and Anna are ready to go on their annual summer vacation to the beach at Ahtohallan. Little does Anna know, Kristoff has a big surprise for her, well...more of a big question really.

Ao3

 “Kris!” Anna Arendelle was currently packing for her and her boyfriend’s annual summer vacation to Ahtohallan. It had become an annual thing they have been doing for the past five years since they started dating. It was the first place they went on vacation as a couple and they had fallen so in love with the charming little town that they had decided to visit every year. And while each trip was a little different, it consisted of at least three things that had remained the same: spending as much time as possible at the beach, going to their favorite diner Reindeer Circle as their special dinner, and staying at the charming The Crocus beachside hotel. Little did Anna know, however, that Kristoff had a surprise that would make this trip more than a little bit different.

 “Which dress do you think I should wear to the diner?” Anna hollered from their bedroom.

 Kristoff stopped what he was doing and sauntered over to their bedroom. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed as he admired his girlfriend examining herself in the Rococo style mirror with the two dresses. One was the white sunflower shirtdress that he had gotten her for her twenty-third birthday, because at the time she had an obsession with the 50’s setting movie Grease. The other was a forest green sundress that had lace trimming, he has actually seen her wear this one before, when they went out to eat for his birthday, and he remembered how it hugged her in all the right places and showed off her scattering of freckles.

 “I don’t know. You decide. I’m not the one who will be wearing it,” Kristoff said.

 Anna pursed her lips. “I know, but I just want to look beautiful enough for you,” she pouted.

 A soft smile graced Kristoff’s lips and he walked over to where Anna stood, enveloping her in a loving embrace. He leaned his forehead head against hers causing a small hum to escape her delicate lips.

 “Anna, you always look beautiful. Whether you're wearing clothes or not.”

  Kristoff pushed back her bangs so that he could get a better look at her bluebell eyes, not unaware of the blush that began to tint her cheeks.

 Seeing this as a challenge he leaned down and whispered, “Especially when you’re not.”

 Anna’s blush went from a soft pink to a beat red. Successful with what he wanted to accomplish, Kristoff grinned with pride.

 “Kristoff!” Anna whined. “I’m being serious.”

 “So am I.”

 Anna let out a small huff before standing on her toes so she could entwine her hands behind his neck to give him a small peck on the lips.

 “You know, sometimes you can be very frustrating.”

 “But that’s why you love me.”

 “That, and so many other reasons,” Anna smiled.

 “Oh yeah?” he chuckled, bumping her nose with his. “And what would those be?”

 “Hmm?” Anna tapped her lips with her finger, which should still not be doing things to him.

 She put her arms behind her back and gave him a cheeky little grin.

 “Not telling.”

 “You little minx.”

 Anna picked up the dresses she had dropped on the floor during their embrace and held the sunflower one out in front of her.

 “You know,” she said, “I think I’ll wear this one. Besides, you gave this to me so that makes it special.”

 It was Kristoff’s turn to blush now. She giggled and gave him a peck on the cheek leaving him standing there dumbfounded as she went to put up the other dress.

 Later that night, after dinner they snuggled up on the couch watching reruns of The Office. Kristoff ran his fingers through Anna’s fiery hair, and eventually, she nodded off to sleep. He soon joined her in slumber, allowing his mind to drift to a very important tiny box he had hidden in the top shelf of his dresser.

 ***

 Kristoff had woken up from where he fell asleep on the couch last night, careful not to disrupt Anna as he got up to go make breakfast. He knew she liked to sleep in late and the last thing he needed was upsetting the snoring redhead. While Anna was the kindest person she had ever met, she was also scary as hell. Plus, they wouldn’t be leaving for Ahtohallan till a little after noon anyway, so they weren’t in any kind of rush.

 He raised his arms above his head and stretched, his shirt rising up a bit to reveal some of his toned stomach.

 Turning on the stove, he cracked a few eggs into the frying pan. He made them scrambled, just how Anna liked them. He added an assortment of other things as well like chives and cheese. Early on in their relationship, he had learned that Anna would eat just about anything as long as it had either two things: cheese or chocolate.

 The scent of the delicious concoction of eggs, bacon, and biscuits Kristoff whipped up swirled in the air causing Anna to stir in her sleep. She had tried with all her might to not give in to the delectable aroma, but eventually the mouse had fallen for the trap. Her button nose stuck up to get a better whiff. She looked like a little woodland creature in search of food.

 She followed the scent all the way into the kitchen to where Kristoff had begun serving everything on their plates.

 “You’re up early?” Kristoff teased, knowing very well that this was a rare occurrence.

 Anna gave him a small swat on the shoulder. “Oh shush you.” She opened the fridge door to grab the jelly for their biscuits, strawberry for her and grape for him, and set them on the little round table right outside the kitchen.

 “Your breakfast m’lady,” Kristoff said, putting on the best posh accent he could muster and giving a small bowl as he placed the dish in front of her.

 “Why thank you kind sir,” Anna replied back with a fancy accent of her own.

 “So,” Kristoff said, getting Anna to meet her eyes with his. “Are you excited for our trip?”

 Anna nodded before shoving a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

 “I’m always excited, because it means I get to spend a whole day with you.”

 “You see me every day,” Kristoff chuckled, feeling light and happy in his chest. It was a feeling that only Anna was able to give him.

 “True, but with work keeping us on our feet and having completely different schedules from one another, we hardly ever get to spend quality time together.”

 Anna spread some strawberry jam on her biscuit. Some dripped down the side of her finger and when she licked it, Kristoff could do nothing but stare. It seemed as if with every move she took, made him lose his breath every time.

 He must have been staring for quite a while too because suddenly Anna was in his lap with her arms wound around his neck, snapping him out of his reverie. He glanced over to where she was previously sitting across from him and saw that her plate was empty.

 She put both her small hands on the side of his face and turned his head so that he was looking at her once again. And when she smashed her lips all he could taste was strawberry jam and Anna, and he would be perfectly fine if time froze in that moment and they stayed that way forever.

 “You know strawberry jam may be delicious, but kissing you is always so much sweeter,” Anna sighed.

 “You flatter me too much,” Kristoff grinned.

 Anna returned the smile before giving him a peck on the lips and leaving to go finish packing any last-minute things.

 Kristoff laughed to himself, wondering how he, who came from nothing, had been blessed with Anna, who came from everything.

 Anna was the heiress of her father’s manufacturing company, Arendelle Incorporated. Her family had also founded the town they lived in so saying she was popular was a little bit of an understatement. While  he was adopted into a family that couldn’t offer much except their love.

 Whenever they were out in public people would always whisper. Many believed they didn’t belong together due to their different backgrounds, that Anna was too good for him. But despite all the harsh words and criticism they have received, Anna refused to believe any of it. She said that it doesn’t matter that they come from two different worlds, because she loved him, and love is the strongest thing there is.

 With a smile, Kristoff got up from his seat and went into the kitchen to wash his dishes.

 ***

 “Krissss,” Anna groaned, “Are we there yet?”

 “We just left the apartment feisty,” he said laughing at his girlfriend’s impatience.

 It was a six-and-a-half-hour drive to Ahotohallan, and every single time, no matter how many times they did it, Anna never forgot to show her displeasure for the small road trip. It was rather adorable if Kristoff was being honest.

 “But I’m so bored.”

 “Turn on the radio.” He grabbed her hand and kissed it before rubbing little circles on it with his thumb. “Besides,…I like it when you sing.”

 With a blush, Anna pressed the radio button, flipping through the stations until she settled on one she liked.

 A few minutes later she had become lost in the music, singing and doing little dances in her seat as if there was nobody watching. Kristoff loved this view of her. He loved seeing her in her natural element, because it was so Anna and there was nothing better in the world than that. Her voice sounded like birds singing their morning songs when the first light of day appeared over the horizon. She had rolled her window down and her hair looked like a wildfire the way the wind blew through it, making it go in different directions. And Kristoff hoped that he would get to see her like this for the rest of eternity. If Anna accepted the question he had prepared, then that dream would become a reality.

 About halfway they had stopped at a burger place to grab some lunch then headed to the nearest gas station to fill up the tank. Anna, of course, couldn’t pass up the opportunity to go inside and grab a few chocolate bars for the road. Kristoff would never understand how someone so small could consume so much of the sweet treat. He was convinced that it wasn’t blood but chocolate sauce that flowed through her veins.

 He laughed when she came out holding twelve chocolate bars, saying that there were too many to choose from and that she didn’t want the other chocolate bars to feel bad for not choosing them so the only logical thing to do was to buy one of each. She also said that she would space them out during their trip, but he just shook his head and smiled knowing fully well that all twelve candy bars would not make it by the time they arrived at the hotel.

 ***

 Unfortunately, it took a little longer than usual to arrive at the hotel due to some heavy traffic. Neither of them minded though, because it just meant Anna had more time to sing at the top of her lungs and having little conversations that usually ended with them saying how much they loved one another.

 Anna hopped out of the car, “Finally! We’re here!” She hopped up and down on the tips of her toes and clapped her hands together. She looked like a little kid who was about to receive their ice cream cone. “Now we can finally relax and get our vacation started!” She squealed with excitement.

 “Don’t get too worked up just yet feistypants. I still have to check-in,” Kristoff chuckled as he made his way over to her with their bags.

     The Crocus may not have been five stars, but it was affordable and convenient because it was right on the beach. Kristoff and Anna had never been ones for fancy things anyway.

 Anna sat in the lobby admiring the coziness of it all while she waited for Kristoff to return with their room keys. Though she had been here many a time, the homey little hotel never failed to take her breath away.

 Speaking of things that took her breath away, Anna was getting a rather pleasant view of Kristoff’s butt from where he stood at the front desk. Those jeans were definitely doing his ass a lot of favors.

 The scene had put Anna in such a deep trance that she didn’t even notice that Kristoff had left and made his way over to her.

 “Room 209.”

 Anna shook her head, bringing herself back to reality. “Hm?”

 “Our room,” Kristoff said. “It’s 209.”

 “Oh! Um.Our room.209. Got it!” Anna stuttered hoping that he didn’t catch her ogling his butt a few minutes ago.

 “Are you okay?” Kristoff raised an eyebrow.

 Blood rushed up to her cheeks. “Never better!” She got up and grabbed the handle of her suitcase, staring there awkwardly as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and bit her lip. “Let’s head up shall we.”

 She rushed past Kristoff leaving him standing there dumbfounded as to what had just happened before he followed her towards the elevator.

 Anna threw herself on the bed sighing with contentment. “Finally!,” she exclaimed. “We can relax and begin our vacation.”

 Kristoff joined his girlfriend on the bed grinning at the image of her snuggled up into the pillow with her eyes peering at him. She looked like a kitten curled up in a blanket.

 Kristoff pressed her frame against his, his large arms swallowing her in a tight hug. “Just a whole week of just you, me, and spending quality time at one of our favorite places together.”

 Anna hummed in agreement. He kissed the top of her head and relished in her soft honeysuckle-scented hair.

 They stayed curled up with one another for hours it seemed, one never wanting to let the other go. The peacefulness of the moment, eventually bringing both to a deep slumber.

 It was around 5:00 when Kristoff woke up. He figured he would let Anna sleep in a little more before then went and grabbed some dinner.

 Carefully unwinding himself from Anna he silently walked over to his suitcase. Unzipping the front pocket he took out the tiny box containing the ring. It glimmered back at him and he looked over his shoulder to make sure Anna hadn’t woken up; if she had seen him the jig would be up.

 He ever so quietly put the box back in the small corner of his front bag pocket. He had decided to wake Anna up at 6:00, and for the time being he made himself a cup of tea and got out the chapter book he had currently been reading.

 When 6:00 rolled around Kristoff had woken Anna up just as he had planned. Anna quickly fixed her lion's mane that she always got after a good rest and looked up restaurants nearby on her phone to find a place to eat. Settling on an Italian place they headed out the door and down to the lobby.

 For dinner they shared a plain cheese pizza, Anna never cared much for toppings. They laughed over stories about moments shared together in their past, with dreams of creating more in the future. And every time Anna’s soft lips wrapped around the straw to take a sip of her Coke she would lick the droplets off her lips causing a pulse to surge through Kristoff’s body. The simple things that woman could do to him was uncanny.

 When the check came they had both blushed when the waitress deemed them “The Cutest Couple Ever.”

 Now, after a quick stroll through the park, they found themselves back in their bed tangled up in their sheets as they held one another.

 Anna absentmindedly twirled the hair on his chest with her index finger, breathing in his woodsy aroma and listening to the beating of his heart. She placed a soft kiss there, “I love it when we get to share moments like this,” she sighed. “Moments where we can let all our worries run free and sunker down into each other's embrace.”

 “Yeah. Me too.” Kristoff stroked his fingers through her unruly hair.

 “I was always alone when I was little, so I thought I’d never get to have anything like this. I never thought I’d feel as loved as I do now. But then you happened Kristoff Bjorgman. You crashed into my life and changed it for the better.” She propped herself up on her elbows and stared down at him. “I love you, and I will always love you forever and always.”

 Kristoff pushed a strand of hair behind her ears, tears welling in his from the sweet words that had just left Anna’s mouth. “I love you too. To the ends of the earth and back.”

 Wrapped up in each other’s love, all that could be heard that night were Anna’s soft snores and the heartbeats of two people who were madly in love.

 ***

 Anna woke up, her head still resting on Kristoff’s chest. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stared at Kristoff’s sleeping form. He looked like an angel. A very tall blonde muscular angel.

 She stroked his hair and he looked up at her drowsily, cracking a lopsided grin.

 “Hey beautiful,” he said, bringing her fingers up to his lips for a kiss.

 “Hey yourself.” She smiled back at him and he was lost again.

 “So?,” he pulled her tighter to his chest. “What would you like to do today?”

 Anna tapped her pursed lips. “Hmm…how about we go to the beach? We had a long day of traveling yesterday so I would just kind of like to have a chill day. Know what I mean?”

 He pressed a line of kisses from her cheekbone down to the base of her neck and stayed there for a while. “Sounds perfect.”

 Anna went to her suitcase to pull out her swimsuit while Kristoff got ready in the bathroom (which didn’t take long at all). Kristoff, unlike Anna, was never really one who cared much about his looks. Of course he made sure he kept up with his hygiene, but for everyday wear, he usually rocked some sort of simple T-shirt and let his hair go wild and free. Oftentimes, people would give him nasty for how unkempt and long his hair was, but Anna liked it that way and to him, that was all that mattered.

 When he stepped out of the bathroom his girlfriend looked at him with hungry eyes and he almost had half a mind to strip them both down of any article of clothing and go back to being wrapped up in the sheets. It also didn’t help that Anna gave him a seductive wink when she passed him to go into the bathroom.

 It was Anna’s turn to walk out of the bathroom and Kristoff had given her the same look she gave him just a few moments ago.

 She wore a black 50’s style one-piece bathing suit with white polka dots. Her hair was put up in a messy bun, the little whispys that had escaped it framing her angelic face with perfection.

 His eyes were wild with lust as he looked at the goddess that was his girlfriend.

 Anna must have known that the sight of her was making him swoon too because she rubbed her pale star scattered freckled thighs together as she bit her lip peering up at him with shy yet mischievous eyes.

 “What do you think?”

 He lost all control over his body as he sauntered towards smashing his lips against hers.

 “I think,” he whispered into her and her butt a little squeeze, “that I must have the sexiest girlfriend on the planet.”

 “Kristoff!” She swatted his chest. “You can’t say things like that.” A blush rose to her cheeks which only made him more confident to tease her a bit more.

 “In fact, you're so sexy that I think we should skip going to the beach and hop right back in bed.” He nibbled behind her ear.

 “Besides,” he smirked, “I don’t want other guys drooling all over you.”

 “Ah, ah, ah,” Anna tsked, wagging her finger. “We only get to come here once a year, mister. We’re going to the beach.”

 “Fine,” he groaned. “But, don’t get mad at me if I have to fight someone for flirting with you.”

 Anna threw her head back and laughed. “I don’t think you need to worry about that. I highly doubt anybody is going to hit on me.You? Yes. People will for sure be wanting a piece of you. But me? No way in hell.”

 “You know I really wish you wouldn’t talk that way. You make it sound as if you're not attractive.”

 “That’s because I’m not.”

 She started to turn the door handle before Kristoff shoved her up against the wood and pressed his mouth over hers in a firm kiss.

 “Don’t,” Kristoff breathed across her lips, “you dare say that. You are the most beautiful being on the planet and I pity anyone who doesn’t agree with me.”

 Tears gleamed in Anna’s, making her blue orbs sparkle like the ocean right outside of their hotel. Words got caught in her throat and the only thing she could do was reply back with a kiss.

 ***

 Anna couldn’t believe it, but Kristoff had been right. They were lounging in their beach chairs when Anna decided to go grab them drinks from the bar. After placing her order and taking a seat at the countertop while she waited for them, a tall skinny man with eyes of emerald green and dark auburn hair with sideburns took a seat right next to her. He pulled his stool closer, and when Anna had tried moving away he would scoot right next to her again.

 Anna stood up to move down to another stool, but as she started to walk away a slender hand gently gripped her tiny wrist.

 Anna’s heart dropped as she slowly turned her head to look at the stranger with frightened eyes.

 “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable miss. It’s just that, when I see a woman as beautiful as you I can’t help but wanna introduce myself.”

 “That’s very flattering of you to say-I think-but I do have a boyfriend.” Anna made sure to elaborate on the word “boyfriend” to make it clear that she was unavailable and that hopefully the guy would leave her alone.

 “Well, that’s too bad.” He gave her a sweet sinister smile and fear washed over her.

 He still held her wrist and when she tried to break free he pulled her to him.

 “However,” he paused to kiss her hand. “I’m sure he won’t mind if I borrow you for a little while.”

 Anna looked over his shoulder with frantic eyes, hoping to find a bartender or some other beach guest who would notice her discomfort. Kristoff was on the other side of the bar and out of sight from her so she couldn’t rely on him either, though if he were to have seen the situation Anna had no doubt he would be here in a heartbeat.

 She would have to deal with the problem on her own.

 “Actually,” Anna furrowed her brow trying to put on the sternest look possible. “I don’t think he would. And quite frankly I wouldn’t appreciate it very much either. Now I already told you I am not interested so please respect my wishes and leave me alone,” she huffed.

 She pushed him away before he grabbed hold of her waist and pressed her body against his once more.

 “Come on darling, don't be that way. I promise to show you a good time.”

 Anna tried to wriggle from his grasp, but he was surprisingly strong for such a scrawny man.

 “No!,” she screamed, finally turning the heads of those around them. “Let me go! Leave me alone!”

 She twisted and turned but to no avail could she break free; that was until a fist had collided with her aggressor’s face.

 Screams and gasps spread throughout the beach like a tidal wave.

 Looking up to see her hero’s face, she cried a breath of relief to find Kristoff standing over the man’s limp body, seething with anger.

 Kristoff grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pressed him up against the countertop. “If I ever catch you near my girlfriend again you can be sure I’ll do more than just punch you.”

 Kristoff threw him back onto the ground standing tall and brooding, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched him skimper away like a scared dog.

 He turned to Anna, his face softening as he brought her into a warm hug.

 She rested her head against his shoulder, her small frame small trembling against his large one. He placed a kiss there as he gently caressed her hair.

 He pulled back to look at her, “You okay?”

 “I am now, thanks to you.” She smiled softly at him and he kissed her forehead.

 “Were you scared?”

 “Only a little, but I’m glad you came to my rescue.”

 He gave her one of his iconic sappy grins and it made her heart flutter.

 “Always.” He rested his cheek against the top of her head. “Even though I know you could have totally kicked his ass.”

 “Damn right I could have.”

 Kristoff gave a whole-hearted laugh and Anna joined in, her giggles creating a symphony with his chuckles.

 The rest of the day was spent splashing each other in the salty waters of the ocean, buried each other in the sand, held a sandcastle contest-which Anna had won- and ended with them holding each other close as they watched the sunset beneath the horizon.

 When they arrived back at the room they hopped in the shower helping one another wash the salt out of their hair.

 Once more they were now tangled in the sheets of their love, drifting off to sleep with the sound of the other’s heartbeat.

 ***

 For the next few days, Anna and Kristoff spent their time going on hikes, shopping at their favorite local stores, visiting the town’s attractions, and so on.

 Now, on their last night here, Kristoff sat at the foot of their bed dressed in the best casual clothes he had, fumbling with the small box he held in his hands. Anna was still in the bathroom “making herself pretty,” as she called it even though he told her that she was beautiful just the way she was.

 Taking one last deep breath he put the ring in the little gift bag he bought to carry it in. Since he wasn’t wearing a suit he didn’t have a pocket to hide it in except for his jeans, but Anna would for sure be able to make out the outline of the box if he did that.

 “Whatcha got there?”

 Kristoff jumped at the sound of Anna’s voice behind him. He was so deep in thought that he hadn’t heard her come out of the bathroom and accidentally run into the dresser cursing, as she walked up to him.

 “Oh! Uh…it’s nothing!,” he stuttered.

 “Kristoff I love you I really do, but please don’t take this the wrong way when I say you have never been a very good liar.”

 Caving into Anna’s persistence he picked the bag off the ground and showed it to her. He had wanted to keep it a secret, but knew his nosy girlfriend wouldn’t stop pestering him until she got what she wanted.

 “I got you a gift. You know just a little something to show how much I love you.” He gave her a dopey smile before adding, “But, it’s for after dinner. So no peeking.”

 “Aww, Kristoff! That’s very sweet of you, but you don’t need to get me a gift to prove that you love me. I know that by heart.”

 Her words made his heart flutter and he took her hand rubbing small circles over before kidding each one of her fingers.

 “You ready?,” she said, breaking the silence.

 “Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said more to himself than to her.

 Together they walked the quiet streets that guided them to their destination and before long they had arrived at a familiar little diner with a big retro light-up sign that said Reindeer Circle.

 They preferred their usuals, for Anna a large chocolate shake with extra whip cream and a plate of chicken fingers with curly fries, and for Kristoff a hamburger with regular fries-though he knew Anna would probably eat some of them-and a glass of water.

 They chatted and laughed as they enjoyed their meals, the time encroaching ever so closer for Kristoff to pop his big question.  And as the waitress had taken their dishes away, he decided that it was now or never.

 “Anna?”

 She had turned her attention away from the window and back to him. “Hm?,” she sighed dreamily, gently squeezing their clasped hands in the middle of the table.

 “I think it may be time for me to give you your present.”

 Interest piqued in her eyes and she lifted her head from where it rested in the palm of her hand.

 “Oh? Really?!” She clapped her hands together, unable to contain her excitement.

 “Um? Yeah…just let me,” he cleared his throat, “let me prepare myself right quick.”

 “Prepare yourself? Kristoff what are you-”

 She was cut off mid-sentence at the sight of Kristoff, down on one knee holding open a box with a ring, in front of her.

 “Anna Arendelle you are the most extraordinary person I ever had the pleasure of meeting. Before you, I thought my destiny was to just live on my own for the rest of my life. But, you came crashing into it with your infectious love and proved me wrong. They say everyone has an angel, and you are mine. Will make me that happiest man on earth, and marry me?”

 Tears formed in Anna’s eyes and she threw herself into Kristoff’s arms, peppering kisses all over his face.

 “Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!”

 Applause spread through the diner and Kristoff spun Anna in the air, kissing her deeply as he slid the ring in her finger.

 Anna admired it. In the middle was a stone of amber on a gold band with intricate petal designs that had made it look like a sunflower. It was so perfect and knowing that it was Kristoff who picked it out caused her heart to overflow with overwhelming love and desire for him.

 After the excitement had settled, they had already begun discussing wedding plans.

 “I think we should have it here, in Ahotohallan. On the beach,” Anna said with a smile.

 “Unless…you know…you would rather have it somewhere else. I just thought it would be cute to have it at a place we both loved, and I always dreamed of having a beach wedding since I was a little girl. I always thought it was romantic. But, if you don’t think it’s a good idea I totally understand! You know what, forget I said anything it’s stupid.”

 “Hey! Hey! Anna!,” he cradled her face in his calloused palms and brushed a thumb across her ivory freckled cheek. “I wouldn’t want to have it any other way.”

 That night as Anna lay in the comfort of Kristoff’s arms, she stared at the ring glistening in the moonlight that shone through the window with visions of many more summer vacations to come.

[permanentcrossfics]

Blurred Lines: Until They Met Again // h.s.

Italics sorted (someone tell me why Google Docs doesn’t love me like Microsoft Word did by letting me copy italics?)! Happy reading, all. See you next time x

“So, m’going to be back in New York soon.” Again, you said nothing, and after a beat he continued. “Just for a night or so — I’ll be flying into Philadelphia and then out to LA for some work stuff.”

“Philadelphia to New York to LA?” you asked.

“London to Philadelphia and Philadelphia to LA.”

“So—” Bless whatever and whoever it was that’d sicked the cat on you to catch your tongue before you could ask him why he was coming to New York if he was flying into and out of Philadelphia. “That’ll be nice.”

He cleared his throat again and you dropped your phone from your ear to take a deep breath, suddenly hot.

“Yeah, so,” he began, “I was thinkin’, y’know. If you’re free or you’d like to….”

You’d like to laugh, because this whole thing was wildly fucking funny. Harry Styles was dialing you for a booty call after a one night stand from months ago. Harry Styles was going to detour into the city for one night just for you, and it wasn’t because you’d had such riveting conversation last time.

“When?” Your fingers twitched at your side.

“When’s good for you?”

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So, the truth was: you’d had sex with Harry Styles and forgotten all about him. 

No — seriously. You’d had sex with Harry Styles and forgotten all about him. 

Honestly, it was all more like a fever dream than anything. It’d happened to you — with you — and even you didn’t buy it. Because why would Harry Styles go to a hole in the wall burger place in the middle of New York City? Didn’t he have people to see at much nicer places with way better food? Especially after one of his own concerts, with people wanting to celebrate him?

And the sex…. It wasn’t even the night of that made your toes curl the most. The morning after, in the forty or so minutes it took room service to get to your hotel room? He’d fucked like his life depended on it. You’d been on your belly, and he’d been in it, skin slapping and both of you wheezing and sputtering your ways to the end because in the morning hours, they might care. In the morning, there might be someone who could recognize his voice or who would wonder if you cried out his name — you weren’t the only one who’d grabbed a hotel for the show, after all. Remembering the low, rumbling groan that’d echoed in his throat as he pulsed inside you and pushed his hips just so against you made you clench if you thought about thinking about it.

He’d left, you’d left, and you hadn’t told a single soul — not your friends, not your Instagram, and definitely not your mother. Not because he’d asked you not to, or because you couldn’t, but because it was the right thing to do. Only the worst of people had busy fingers and thumbs to take fishing selfies and post stories that created more talk than their mouths ever could. And honestly? It was easier to pretend it hadn’t happened, because that was absurd. The whole of it from top to bottom was the most hysterical insanity, and if you’d read it in a blind item column, you’d laugh your way around the world and fall off if it was flat.

(But it wasn’t flat, and as it was, you’d go round and round in circles, and where you’d stop, nobody would know.)

So, you had to forget all about him. And it’d worked, too. The end of June bled almost indiscernibly with the beginning of July, the blazing sun of which made all but the most touristy of tourists want to crawl underground. August brought enough relief to make you throw your windows open and lie naked on your bed, hoping a breeze would blow through, but it wasn’t until September you knew peace.

And then you’d picked up the phone. 

It was an unknown number, and you were a 21st century person who routinely ignored any call from any number they didn’t know (and, sometimes, the ones they did). Maybe you knew — maybe that was why, despite your hiss of annoyance, you slid your thumb on the screen. “Hello?” Clipped in anticipation of either a robotic voice or a sales pitch, you barely held the phone to your ear, poised and at the ready to hang up as quickly as you’d picked up. You leaned across your sofa to grab the remote you’d thrown onto the cushions at the opposite end at the start of the film you’d put on. 

“Hey, it’s uh—” The owner of the voice on the other end cleared its throat, but you were already frozen, tense and in shock, prickles erupting on your scalp and up your arms. You didn’t need him to say who he was. Even as quietly as he was speaking, the cadence and lilt were familiar to you anywhere. As was the smile you could hear in his voice. “It’s Harry.” 

You jammed your thumb on the pause button several times until it finally took. 

“Hi.” Flat, dull, and totally uninterested, which was not true or accurate. “Hi,” you repeated breathlessly, hoping he could hear the difference. “Hi, I didn’t— sorry. I thought it might be a spam….” You took a deep breath. He didn’t care. Hell, you didn’t care. “How are you?” 

Harry’s cough sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “M’good,” he said. “Y’know, m’doin’ well, just… keeping busy. Working.” 

You hummed but otherwise stayed silent, waiting. This wasn’t exactly a phone call you got any day and every day, and you doubted he was calling to check in with you.

“So, m’going to be back in New York soon.” Again, you said nothing, and after a beat he continued. “Just for a night or so — I’ll be flying into Philadelphia and then out to LA for some work stuff.” 

“Philadelphia to New York to LA?” you asked.

“London to Philadelphia and Philadelphia to LA.” 

“So—” Bless whatever and whoever it was that’d sicked the cat on you to catch your tongue before you could ask him why he was coming to New York if he was flying into and out of Philadelphia. “That’ll be nice.” 

He cleared his throat again and you dropped your phone from your ear to take a deep breath, suddenly hot. 

“Yeah, so,” he began, “I was thinkin’, y’know. If you’re free or you’d like to….” 

You’d like to laugh, because this whole thing was wildly fucking funny. Harry Styles was dialing you for a booty call after a one night stand from months ago. Harry Styles was going to detour into the city for one night just for you, and it wasn’t because you’d had such riveting conversation last time. 

“When?” Your fingers twitched at your side. 

“When’s good for you?”

For a moment, everything went white with the headrush from the overwhelming power flooding you. He was waiting on you — fares and change fees probably didn’t matter to him, if he paid much for anything at all with how many airline miles he’d probably racked up in his life. 

“Next Friday?” you asked. You’d need a full two days to recover from the shock alone. “If that’s good for you.” 

“Should be,” he said. “I’ll let you know.”

You smirked slightly. Trying to regain a little control? “Sounds good,” you murmured, fingernails digging into your knee. “If not this time then another time, maybe.” 

Needless to say when he texted you ten minutes after hanging up, Friday worked perfectly. 

You didn’t hear from him again until closer to the date. Part of you was wondering if he’d forgotten, but when he asked you on Thursday if you were still on, you stared at his very formal message for a good fifteen seconds just… absorbing the fact that he was coming into town just to see you. 

To have sex with you. 

He wanted to meet for dinner first — God, did you have to? It made the whole thing so much more… you both knew you were winding up naked at the end of the night, anyway.  When you looked up the restaurant, you just about died right there on your sofa. It was, in a word, expensive. The type of expensive that didn’t have the prices listed online but that Yelp was all too happy to spill. Stress mounted in you and you blinked in the dim blue light of your computer, shellshocked, scrolling through the reviews with your hand pressed tightly to your cheek. 

It was a drop in the bucket, maybe, but he didn’t have to do this. He knew that, didn’t he? 

More than once you wrote out a message to cancel — you didn’t feel well, a work thing came up that you couldn’t get out of, someone from somewhere was flying into town and you had to see them. Every time, though, you deleted it all. For months, you hadn’t thought about him, but now… you wanted to see him. Badly. You wanted to see if it was as good and normal as the first time. If it crashed and burned, fine, but at least you’d know and wouldn’t wonder what would happen if you got to see him again. 

Dinner was late that Friday night. He’d asked if you were ok with that, and while part of you wanted to rip the bandaid off, the other part knew — or imagined to know — he had his reasons, especially when the name he told you to give when you got there wasn’t his. Suddenly, it clicked — people could see you and him, together, and he was trying to take precautions to avoid that as much as possible. Maybe for your sake as much as his. 

The inside of the restaurant was dark, and you gave the name as discreetly as you could, trying not to fall right over from how your nervous knees were knocking together. Each step through the maze of tables full of diners clinking wine glasses, sharing pizzas, and cutting into massive steaks that were bigger than the plates they were on made you a little more nauseous, and you were seconds away from turning around and bolting on jellied legs when there he was. Alone, huddled behind a plant in a dark corner that was more secluded than the rest, with a basket of bread in front of him along with a bowl of butter and a bottle of olive oil. He was typing on his phone when he looked up and did a double take with your wave and feeble smile. 

“Hi.”

Harry stood slightly and only sat down after you’d done the same in the chair that was pulled out for you next to his — albeit too clumsily and too soon. 

“It’s good t’see you,” Harry said, quietly and warmly but still audible over the clang of the dining room. 

“You too.” You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. You didn’t remember eye contact being this intimidating with him — you’d had sex with him and managed it better, not to mention the conversation and shameless way you’d flirted with him during the show in a way that would show up any seventies groupie.  “Good trip?”

You should take your coat off. You should put your purse somewhere, and you should maybe try not to look like you had a stick up your ass, but all the common sense, human nature things that you’d usually do without thinking suddenly took a great deal of effort to remember. 

“It was ok, yeah,” he said with a shrug as you gingerly set your bag down and tried to get out of your jacket without hitting him in the arm. “Here, let me….” 

Harry stood and hooked his fingers into your jacket and pulled it down your arms to drape it over the back of your chair. 

“Thank you,” you said, still hot despite shedding a layer. “How’ve you been since…?”

Since we last had sex?

“Good!” he said. “Good, y’know… busy, but good. Getting some different things done.”

“Anything I can know about?” you asked, managing a smirk at last.

A mistake, because he returned it, and his looked better. “Not yet,” he said. “Couple of things might come out soon.” 

You held his gaze a fraction of a second too long, and you felt its impact. Clearing his throat, Harry picked up the menu card in front of him. He looked like he was fighting a smile, and there was a very faint flush in his cheeks. “So, the ah, linguine in vodka sauce is very good and there’s a vegan version if that’s somethin’ you’re interested in.” He flipped it over. “And the affogato—” You bit your lip to contain a smile of your own, the flare of an attempted Italian accent over his Manchester accent cutting through influences from London and America alike comical in a way it shouldn’t be— “is nice if you don’t have to be up in the morning.” 

Before you could think about it, you said, “Sounds great.” Harry looked at you from the corner of his eye, mouth twitching, and coughed into his fist to hide it. Jesus — could you say or do anything that didn’t make you seem a sort of way? “Is there wine?” 

No, apparently, you couldn’t.

He nodded, lips still quivering annoyingly. “Ordered us a bottle — hope that’s ok, it’s….” He gestured just as a waiter approached with it. 

“That’s good,” you said. 

“Sure?”

You nodded and he gave his own to the waiter who busied himself with uncorking the bottle and pouring you each a glass. Harry held his, hovering in midair when you picked yours up. 

“Oh—” Belatedly, you clinked yours with his before taking two deep sips. He didn’t even try to hide his laughter, then, and his eyes crinkled over the rim of his glass. 

“So,” he said. “How’ve you been?” 

Since you last had sex.

“Well,” you said, running your finger over your glass. “Working, mostly.” 

“What is it you do?” 

You stared, but his green eyes were wide and endless waiting for your answer. Nowhere on his face was a trace of irony or disinterest — he’d asked because he genuinely wanted to know. “I—” You stammered a bit before getting it out and he nodded, a flicker of recognition passing over his features.

“Tell me about it.” Just as authentic and sincere. 

“It’s… I mean….” 

With some coaxing from him, he dragged the details out of you — for how long, how did you get into it, was it what you’d always wanted to do, did you like it, what were the hard parts, did you think he could do that if he put his mind to it. And, eventually, you stopped feeling like your teeth were being pulled, whether in thanks to the wine, the pasta, or his charm — charm you’d known about but that was lightyears worse when it was directed right at you in the corner of a restaurant with your knees touching under the table — you couldn’t tell. He spoke about himself, too, and every now and then while listening to his slow drawl, it was hard to connect the fact that the voice speaking owned these stories. It was like you were eavesdropping on someone else’s conversation with him and being told things you shouldn’t know and had no right to know, but it was he, himself, and he was telling you of his own accord. 

“Would you like dessert?” he asked when your plates were cleared. 

“We could,” you said. “If you’d like — the affogato?” 

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Not planning to get any sleep tonight?”

The bottle of wine had been described as bold, and apparently you’d absorbed some of that along with the alcohol. “You tell me.” 

Harry pressed his lips together, rolling them thoughtfully as you smiled at him as the waiter approached, ignoring your racing heart to hold his gaze. 

“Will there be anything else tonight?” 

His ball, his call. 

With only a quick glance to the waiter, he said, “One affogato to share, please.” He turned to you again. “And the check,” he added without breaking eye contact. 

***

The hotel was intimidating — not somewhere you could ever stay on your own, and, for that reason, not a name you recognized, but you knew by the name emblazoned on the carpet outside the doors that it was the sort of hotel you should know. Hand on your elbow, Harry nodded and greeted the doorman with warmth and enthusiasm acting as the smoke and mirrors to allow you to slip into the lobby ahead of him. You paused, watching him through the glass, and seconds later he was through the door after you. 

“This way,” he said, eyes darting to the elevator bank. 

“Nice place,” you said as he waved the back of his wallet over a black magnetic pad attached to a column before pushing the call button. 

“You like it?” he asked, watching the floor numbers above the elevators. He gently took your elbow again and pulled you towards one descending faster than the others. When the doors opened, it was empty, and you both got on with him mashing the close button until the doors rattled shut and locked you both in with an almost eerie silence.

“Thank you,” you said. “Again. For dinner — and dessert. You really didn’t have to.” 

Harry pressed his floor, but his smirk was warmer and his eyes softer than they had been since you’d both left the restaurant and gotten into his car. The jittery, tingling sensation in your hands and belly had nothing to do with the espresso from dessert. 

“Thank you for coming….” Flames surged in you, up through your torso and over your chest and neck, and you held your breath as his cheek dimpled, the pointed phrase lingering between you. “To dinner,” he added, grinning wider as if he’d displayed some revolutionary wit instead of the most basic— “You don’t have to either, you know.” 

He was still smiling, but it was impossible to miss his pointed message acknowledging the power imbalance between you. You didn’t have to do this, dinner or no dinner, and as much as you knew that, it seemed he needed you to know he knew that, too. 

“I know,” you said, voice catching in your throat. “You’re welcome,” you added with a quirk of your mouth, holding eye contact with him as if your knees weren’t quaking. 

The doors opened and you followed him into the hallway, but he came to an almost immediate stop in front of a door he again waved his wallet over. “After you,” he said, holding it open. On purpose, you were sure, because he looked smug when you squeezed by him, chest-to-chest. 

Oh, wow. 

It was a suite — you were pretty sure that was the only way something this huge could be classified. There was a king-sized bed off to one side, with an overstuffed armchair and a luggage rack with his suitcase on it, and to the other there was a sitting area with a sofa, more chairs, and a coffee table. Beyond it, a chandelier hung over full dining table surrounded with chairs, and a closed laptop with a couple of books sat on top of it with the cord stretched to an outlet. Combined, all of it was bigger than your entire apartment. “Hotel room’s better than mine,” you mumbled, looking around from corner to corner, floor to ceiling. 

Harry laughed and strolled past you, gesturing towards the sofa. “Can make yourself comfortable,” he said. “I’m just going to pop in there for a bit,” he said, pointing to a door. “I’ll be right out.” 

“Sure!” you said. “Sure, take your time.” 

He disappeared through the doorway and you only just caught a flash of tile and mirror when he turned the light on before shutting the door. Seconds later, the sound of water running reached your ears, and, exhaling, you dropped your bag on the coffee table and unbuttoned your coat to drape it over the arm of the sofa before taking your boots off. You crept over to the window and pulled the gauzy curtain back. Below, cars zipped through the city streets, looking like festive ants from this height. You couldn’t hear anything except for the air conditioner — a bit chilly, but you stopped yourself from changing the temperature. You didn’t know how he liked it, and it might turn out to be… necessary.  

The running water from the bathroom cut off abruptly and when you turned around, Harry emerged. His cardigan was gone, and his face looked scrubbed clean with his hair damp and pushed back like he’d raked his hands through it. “Sorry about that,” he said, quietly, grinning as he got closer, and you caught a waft of peppermint toothpaste. “Coffee and all.” 

“It’s ok,” you said. 

Harry stopped in front of you and your throat tightened when he slid his hands up your neck, palms soft and warm. Tilting your head back, you stayed very still as he rubbed the apples of your cheeks with his thumbs with an almost intimate tenderness, and your lips parted with anticipation. You could smell his cologne and you could feel how warm he was, but when he leaned in, you inhaled sharply and turned your face. “I should probably do the same,” you murmured almost regretfully. You wanted almost nothing more than to kiss him right then — you’d been waiting all night for that and more — but you could taste the espresso on your tongue, and you wanted to be able to kiss him right. 

Harry looked like he was going to say no, and if he had you might’ve gone through with it, but finally, licking his lips, he nodded and let go of you. “Sure,” he said. “You can— go ahead, I’ll….”

“Thank you.” You smiled softly and slipped away, shutting the door behind you. Once you were in, you let out a breath and your shoulders slumped. The bathroom, like the suite, was massive, with a bathtub and a shower with a rainshower head stuck to the ceiling. Only one of the double sinks looked like it was in use, with his deodorant, a bottle of cologne, a comb, and a razor half out of a kit lying next to it along with a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste. 

You gulped, staring at it, before patting underneath the counter and looking around the room. There had to be a complimentary…. Aha! The toiletry bag from the hotel was perched on a shelf over the toilet and you opened it, sighing with relief when you found a toothbrush and a microscopic tube of toothpaste. 

“Can use my toothpaste, f’you want.”

You nearly dropped the whole thing into the sink when you jumped, holding your chest and looking at the closed door. 

“I—” Swallowing your nerves, you nodded. “Thank you,” you called back. You unscrewed the gap from his tube with shaky hands and spread a bit on the bristles, and as you scrubbed, mouth foaming, you stared deep into your eyes in the mirror under the soft vanity lighting. Just sex — it was just sex. And yet, there weren’t enough words to say how surreal this was. 

Teeth, tongue, and gums done, you splashed cool water around your neck and forehead before patting dry and evaluating yourself. Legs? Fine. Stomach? Full, but not uncomfortably so. Teeth? Fresh. That was it, then. Tapping the light off, you opened the door and stepped out. 

Harry was on the edge of the bed, head hanging and hands on his knees, but he looked up when you came closer, a sharp snap of his neck, his glinting eyes reminiscent of a starving man.

“I’m sorry!” you rushed. “I’m sorry.”

“S’ok,” he said, standing. “Don’t worry about it, c’mere.”

No more pretense. No more waiting. 

Cupping your face again, Harry slanted his mouth over yours and you moaned softly, circling your arms around his shoulders. For all the anticipation, it was slow — he was taking his time kissing and coaxing your lips open, groaning his appreciation between quiet smacks while you languidly pulled your hands across his back. He was warm through his shirt and every muscle seemed to tense and release under your wandering fingers. He really was broad, too — he didn’t look it sometimes, but he was, and strong. Minty kisses matched yours, and every now and then you caught a whiff of the same rich and delicious smell you’d determined earlier was his cologne. Breaking, you pressed your lips to his jaw and then his neck, moaning when you got a concentrated dose of the scent. Harry moaned and you felt the vibrations in your mouth through his skin, and he squeezed your hips as you kissed up and down his neck.

“That’s nice,” you murmured between kisses.

“Thanks,” he said, voice strained. You grinned. “Just be—” Harry swallowed. “Just be careful, please. Sorry if that makes me a dick, but….”

Be careful with—? Oh. Marks. “Don’t worry,” you whispered with another one. “I get it.” You were on his throat when you added, “No one will know I was here.”

He laughed, full and deep, and you grinned wider. “Come back here,” he said, tilting your head back so he could kiss you again, and you stilled to return it, though every now and then one of you smiled and broke the rhythm. Drawing your hands down his torso, you stopped at his waistline and felt along until you found the button for his trousers. “Tryin’ t’get into my pants?” he crowed under his breath. 

“Made sure I wouldn’t be able to sleep,” you said. “Might as well do something.” 

The whole world turned when Harry spun you suddenly. You gasped, nearly shrieking with startled laughter when he dropped you on the bed, and you were still giggling when he unbuttoned your jeans and pulled your zipper down. 

“Gonna hurt m’feelings if you keep laughin’ at me,” he said, the warning softened by his grin. 

“No, I won’t,” you said, eyes rolling up with a sigh when he slid his hands underneath your shirt. You sat up a bit until he brought it up over your head and tossed it away before he bent over your chest.

You’d had sex with Harry Styles and forgotten all about it, but he was doing his damndest to make sure you remembered. 

Oh. Right. He was good at this — ridiculously, absurdly, eye rollingly amazing. Each kiss down your over your breasts was simple but carefully placed. He suckled every patch of skin into his mouth with a thoughtful hum and a grunt of conclusion, and when he reached your sternum, he sighed hotly. 

“God, y’smell good.” You laughed breathlessly and nodded your thanks as he made his way down your belly. “Smell so—” He pressed his nose to your hip and inhaled deeply— “good.” 

He said it so deeply, so slowly, so deliberately, that if you didn’t know better you’d think he’d never meant anything more. 

“I’m gonna take these off,” you said, voice sticking in your throat. You sat up and he did, too, pulling his shirt off while you stood on wobbly legs to shed your jeans. He stared, unabashedly, and it was again one of those moments that was so surreal you couldn’t believe you were living it. “Do you have condoms?” you asked, nearly toppling sideways as you kicked your ankles free. 

“In the drawer,” he said. 

He’d really detoured to New York out of Philadelphia just to sleep with you and he wasn’t even pretending he hadn’t had this in mind.

You took a step towards it but he grabbed your wrist. “Hang on,” he said. “Know you can hardly wait—”

You gasped. “Me?” You almost wanted to smack that smarmy grin off his face, and when he nodded, you reminded him, “‘When’s good for you?’” 

“Flexible schedule,” he murmured, pulling you down onto his lap. Straddling him, you held his shoulders to keep from teetering backwards, mouth hovering over his. “We’ve got all night,” he said, kneading your hips with a cocked head. “Don’t we? Not getting any sleep?”

An electric thrill shot through you. His lips were twisted at the corner in an almost coy smirk, and his eyes were endless, full of a level of confidence that made you tingle. You gasped, soft and sharp, and his smirk widened into a grin when you grasped his chin and kissed him, hard, as he dropped back onto the bed and brought you crashing with him. 

Again the world spun when he turned you over, and your eyes rolled as he trailed kisses down your cheek and neck — greedy ones with chins colliding and teeth scraping skin as he held you by the jaw to keep you still. You only barely managed to shift on your back when you felt his hand sliding underneath you, and seconds later the pressure of the band around your ribs released and your bra straps loosened on your shoulders. Harry pushed the flimsy material up over the swell of your breasts, and your mouth fell open when his closed firmly on your nipple. He released it with a soft noise before pulling it again with slightly more pressure, and one of your hands fell into his hair. 

“Leg up,” he rasped against your breast, pushing one of your knees gently but firmly. You did as he asked and bit back a moan when he fit his palm over you through your underwear, its radiating heat making you throb. Up and down he stroked, tentatively at first and then with more certainty, thumb dipping into your slit over the fabric. “Ok?” he asked. Barely able to hear him through your ringing ears, you nodded, and, with the permission, he hooked his fingers under the thin scrap of fabric with a quiet groan. “That’s nice,” he said as he explored with such a careful, barely there touch, you almost couldn’t breathe waiting to just feel something. Swallowing hard, you let out a slow, deep breath, eyes falling shut as you turned your head to the side, knuckles brushing over your mouth as your heart raced out of control. 

“Don’t have t’be quiet,” Harry said almost lazily as he descended lower and lower on your stomach with spongy, stubbly kisses and carefully opened you with his fingers. “Don’t have to—” He laughed when your legs jerked as the pads of his fingers slid over your clit. “S’ok,” he continued. “Relax for me… s’it feel good?”

You nodded, gulping. 

“Is this ok?” 

He pressed his finger onto your clit and you took a deep breath. “Yes,” you said, voice sticking in your throat. 

“That’s good, then,” he said. “Anything y’don’t want me to do you just tell me, right?”

You moaned, then, low and long, and you lifted your hips from the bed as you squirmed. “Yes,” you repeated, slightly louder and pitchier. “Yes… oh,” you sighed, toes curling when he laved his tongue over your nipple while stroking your clit, each breath deep and full, your belly warm. “Fuck!” you whispered, sucking in sharply. The last time you’d felt yourself get wet like this — slippery, soaked — had been… well, with him. 

You laughed under your breath. It’d been with him. Of course it had. “Oh!” you gasped sharply when he circled faster, gripping the back of his head with one hand while the other slapped down on his shoulder. 

“Can hear it, can’t you?” he asked. “Can hear how wet— oop—” His finger slipped out of his rhythm. “There we go,” he muttered. “Easy…. Gotta make sure your pussy’s open for me, don’t we?”

“I am,” you said, back arching. “I am, I’m….” You clenched your teeth together and your head tossed against momentarily as you dug your toes into the sheets. “Mmm….” 

“Sure?” he asked tightly. “Gonna be able to get inside?” 

“I am,” you whispered. “Please, I want you inside me.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked. 

“Yes!” You were hot, everywhere, almost feverishly, and you couldn’t stop moving, fidgeting, trying to do anything to just…. Sucking in sharply, your lips barely moved when you uttered, “Oh, my God, I’m gonna cum,” in one soft breath, digging your fingers into his shoulder more. Your whole body was tense and your stomach muscles kept clenching and releasing, the warmth in your belly spreading through your legs and up your chest. You were going to cum, you were— so close, almost laughably so. Whimpering, you pressed your trembling lips together to stifle a louder moan bordering on agony, and you were just starting to feel the relief of those first flutters when, suddenly… he stopped. 

He stopped?

“No!” you said. “No, please, no, why?” you asked breathlessly, bordering on a cry, hand clapping to his face and forehead bumping his when he popped off your breast. “Why?” 

He laughed, but it was a strained sound. “Sounds too pretty to let it end just yet,” he said. “Got… got all night, don’t we?” he asked. “Got all….” He grimaced and rocked backwards. “Shit.” 

You stared at him, sluggish mind slowly catching up. He was still in his trousers — they’d never made it off somehow — and he was very obviously hard. “Come here,” you breathed. “Come….” 

Harry grunted when you pushed them down his hips. Awkwardly, limbs tangled, you climbed over and around each other until he was on his back and you were on your shaky knees, tugging them down and off him completely. A pair of red boxer briefs fit him perfectly, hugging his thighs, hips, and the cock straining in them. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath and you felt his eyes on you when you lowered down, pressing kisses to his knees and up his thighs, his leg hair tickling your nose. You were at the edge of his briefs by the time you were feeling blindly along his waistline, and you sat up when your fingers slipped inside to pull them down. Locking eyes with him only briefly when they were tugged past his thighs, you grinned impishly before lowering down and he touched the back of your head with a barely there graze when you licked a stripe up the underside of his cock. 

“Oh, shit,” he breathed blissfully above you. From under your lashes you could see him grinning with his arm over his eyes, and you licked again and again before ducking lower and pulling one of his balls into your mouth with a delicate suck. His answering groan made your hair stand on end and you wrapped your hand around his cock, running your thumb up and down near the head. 

You had all night. Last time had been frantic, rushed, with an invisible timer that wouldn’t stop tick-tick-ticking, and you hadn’t known what you wanted, or were allowed, or how much of it you could have. Now, though, you were enjoying touching him, holding him, experimenting with what you knew and what you were figuring out from every moan and sharp breath above you. 

“Is this good?” you asked between sucks.  

“Yeah,” Harry grunted, nodding his head belatedly. “Shit… s’real good.” Gently, then, he grabbed your hand to move it higher up his shaft while you licked one of his balls. “Y’can… f’you want to—” 

Hand in his, he moved your hold slowly up and down, and the throbbing sensation that’d been lingering between your legs grew. Holding your breath, you watched him jerking himself with your hand, each downward tug pulling his head out a little more. His nostrils flared and he gulped, throat bobbing visibly, and you licked your lips, head spinning. Unthinking, you lifted up and wrapped your mouth around the tip, sucking firmly with a breathy moan, and you felt his thighs trembling beneath you for a moment as his hands faltered. Up and down you bobbed, stretching your jaw slightly more each time to try to get more, but when you felt a click, you pulled off abruptly. 

“Sorry—” You slurped wetly and laughed, horrified. “Sorry!” 

His loud laugh joined yours, warmer and more delighted than yours. On fire, you dug the heels of your hands into your eyes until he pulled your wrists. 

“Come here,” he said, still wheezing. “Come….”

You whined, stretching out next to him, and he chuckled, cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss. “S’ok,” he said, body shaking with suppressed laughter. “Got me a little wet is all,” he teased.

You grunted when he rolled you onto your back and you melted underneath him as he kissed you — first on your mouth, then your neck, your shoulder, and inside your elbow, before he pushed up and opened the bedside table. The box of condoms wasn’t the hotel’s, but what had to be his own preferred brand, and you must’ve made a noise, because he glanced at you sharply, then.

“What?” he asked.

Smiling slightly, you shook your head. “Nothing,” you assured him. 

He chortled, tearing one open and pulling out the flimsy, wet rubber. Biting your lip, you watched him pinch the end and smooth it down before he cleared his throat.  

“D’you wanna get on your…?”

You stared, waiting for him to complete his question. Harry licked his lips and jerked his head. 

“C’mere,” he said. “Turn over, like….” He coaxed you onto your hands and knees before pressing down on your back between your shoulder blades. “Little lower… there y’go,” he said when you bowed, arms outstretched ahead of you and ass high. “That good?” he asked and you nodded.

“Yes, please,” you mumbled. He laughed quietly behind you but gripped your hips and you closed your eyes.

“Deep breath in,” he said, smooth and warm. “In and out, in and—”

Face contorting, you grunted under your breath when he thrust, shallowly at first but gradually deeper until his pelvis was flush with you. “Oh, fuck,” you wheezed, back arching. It was good, but a bit of a pinch and stretch — had it been this way last time? Maybe you hadn’t noticed as much from the adrenaline rushing through you.

“Ok?” he asked. 

Still grimacing, you nodded, hands fisted in the sheets. “Good,” you managed. “Good, good… oh!” you cried out when he thrust with heavier weight, hands bruisingly tight on your hips. That right there — that was good, the angle and the depth, and if you brought your legs together just a bit—

“Fuck!” he groaned behind you. “Fucking….” 

Faster, steadier, you muffled your noises in the sheets as you rocked back against him. Pathetic — you were pathetic whining and pushing into him, but he’d left you hanging and you were trying to get it back because you’d been so close. 

“That’s it,” Harry grunted, laughing breathlessly. “Fuck my cock.” He took a rattling breath. “Fuck yourself on my cock…. Shit, y’got no idea how wet it looks right now.” He stilled suddenly and you paused, heaving.

“Harry!” you whimpered, twisting, arms too weak to lift up. 

“What?” he asked, and you could hear the smug smirk in his voice. “S’wrong?” 

You let out a keening moan, face flat on the bed, before you tightened and pushed back on him. His answering groan was guttural, and he held you fast when he went silent, only the slapping noise of your ass meeting his pelvis and the sound of the bed thunking filling the air. Good— not bad— not enough, though, either. Stopping short, wheezing, you reached behind you to tap one of his hands. “Let go,” you said, tapping it again. “Both….” 

Immediately, the pressure released and he backed up without a question, slipping out of you with a wet drop. Gulping, you forced yourself up and sat back on your knees to steady yourself before turning. “You ok?” he asked. “You good?” His cheeks were red and his chest and arms were sweaty and shining, lips swollen and bitten up, eyes dark but sharp and attentive on you. 

“Mmhm.” You pushed him by the shoulders and he teetered in his surprise before he fell on his back with a muted grunt. Hands on his chest, you swung one leg over him and lowered down to rest on the underside of his cock. His nostrils flared and his eyes bounced from your face to where you were sliding back and forth on top of him. 

“What—” Harry cleared his throat. “What’re you doing?” 

“Told me to fuck myself on your cock,” you reminded him, inhaling sharply when your clit bumped his head through the condom. “Didn’t you?” 

Again he cleared his throat and ran his hands up and down your thighs. “C’mon, love,” he muttered. “Please. Don’t leave me hanging?” 

“Why?” you said, laughing as his head fell back. “Have all night, don’t we? That’s what you told me.”

“M’fucking balls are gonna explode,” he said, groaning. “Seriously, I’m like….” 

Still laughing, you lowered your chest while lifting your hips, and with your mouth on his, you guided his cock back in. One of his hands clapped down immediately on your ass and held you there when you began to rock again, finding a steady rhythm. Sloppier, rougher, but your clit was against him and the pressure was perfect. 

“Oh my God, you feel so good,” you said between kisses. “You’re making me feel so— oh!” you exclaimed breathily.

“Yeah?” he asked. “Making y’feel good? You feel good? You feel….” Harry swallowed conclusively. “Fuck me, look at y’riding me like this!” 

The hazy part of your brain hoped it was as good for him as it was for you, because this was amazing for you. 

“Jesus, y’so….” Harry groaned, a deep, helpless sound. “Lis— listen to me,” he said. “Can y’do that? Can y’let me make it good for us?” 

You didn’t answer at first, caught off guard. 

“Trust me, darling,” he mumbled. “I can make it so good for you, I promise.”

“What? What, what—?”

“When I say stop,” Harry said. “Y’gonna stop.”

You whimpered.

“Just for a bit,” he rushed on. “Just for a bit, love, only for a moment.” He kissed you hard and quick. “S’gonna feel so good when y’cum,” he said. “I promise you, you’re gonna feel so good when you cum. Right?” 

Rolling your hips, you huffed against his mouth. You were exhausted — your muscles were sore, used, and felt like they’d been stretched taught to the point of snapping more than once from the tremors rippling through you. 

“Stop,” he whispered. Eyes squeezed shut, his cock pulsed inside you. “Stop, please—”

Whining, you came to a still, panting and dropping your head onto his shoulder, heart beating in your throat. 

“That’s good!” he said, hand slipping up your sweaty back. “Good girl, just… just for a moment.” 

“I wanna cum,” you admitted, more broken and needy than you liked. 

“Promise,” he said, patting your shoulder, “y’gonna cum. Gonna take good fucking care of you.” 

Again and again, you stopped and started, each stop happening sooner and sooner with both of you so close. You could feel how swollen you were from the repeated almosts, but even without finishing you knew he was right and that when you did finish it would be indescribably intense. He’d rolled you onto your back at one point and pulled out, trembling from head to toe with a glazed over look in his eyes as he fought to pull himself back, but by the time you were asking him to please, let you cum — you were tired, you wanted it, you just wanted to cum — you were back on top.

“Please, don’t stop,” you breathed. “Oh, please, oh—”

“So cum, then,” he groaned between his teeth. “Fucking cum.” 

A cramp shot through your foot right when every muscle in you tightened, and you were pretty sure this was the ugliest you’d ever sounded when you came since the time you had your first orgasm and hadn’t had the ability to process the new sensations, but it felt… incredible. Hot, like everything in you had snapped and crackled and was shooting through you in fizzling tingles, and seconds later, he thrust up with a strangled sound in his throat and you felt his cock throbbing in you with each stream of cum. Shaking, his head dropped back off the side of the bed and he wheezed through each breath. Dropping your forehead to his shoulder, you gulped for air, trembling, ears ringing. The whole world might as well have been spinning for how steady you felt.

“Holy shit,” he breathed at last. “That was—”

“Yeah,” you said, relief flooding you. Him too — not just you. “Gimme a minute and I’ll….”

“S’ok,” he said, patting your ass. “Can take your time.” 

***

You didn’t remember falling asleep. You didn’t remember much at all after the sex, honestly — how you’d gotten off him, or when he’d gotten rid of the condom, or if you’d even peed — although you did have a fuzzy memory of him calling down for room service and getting it despite it being after hours. 

Waking up now, though, every bone in your body felt like they’d been fused together and then cracked. You rolled over, stretching and shaking, and your arm dropped to the side and swiped through the empty sheets — warm — as you listened to the shower running. When you finally opened your eyes, it was pitch black save for the crack of light coming from the bathroom. The blackout curtains had been pulled — he must’ve done that — and you twisted to look at the alarm clock next to the bed. 

“Morning.”

Harry approached the bed, already wearing his trousers and t-shirt, hands full of the items from the bathroom countertop. His hair was damp at the ends but not washed, only his clothes evidencing his walk of shame. 

“Morning,” you said.

He grinned crookedly. “How d’you feel?” he asked. “Y’know — with all that… wine and caffeine.” He smirked as if in on a private joke and you pressed your lips together. Pointed, and not at all about the wine and caffeine. 

“Fine.” Amazing. “You’re up early.” 

Still smirking, he said, “Have to leave for the airport in a bit.” 

Already? That was… fast. Surprising, but not at all. The opposite of last night that’d felt like it’d gone on forever, but that was ending in a blink.

“It’s early,” you said, repeating your earlier sentiment.

“Headed to Philadelphia.”

You deflated. Right. “I’ll get dressed,” you said. You sat up, sheet tucked under your arms and across your chest.

“Don’t.” Harry dropped his items in his open suitcase on the overstuffed chair in the corner and a quick glance at the table revealed the laptop as well as the rest of his personal items had been swept from the suite. “Room’s mine until noon. I can call for a late check out, too, if you’d like. But you should stay — get some rest, order some breakfast.”

You shook your head. “I can’t, I—”

“Please?” he asked. “Paid for it, it should go to good use. ‘Less you got somewhere to be.” 

You didn’t — you’d purposefully picked Friday to be able to take as long as you needed to the next day, but you’d thought you’d need the time to pick up where things had left off, not to lounge in a suite without him. Sighing, you smiled softly, and he nodded his satisfaction. 

“Good,” he said as you leaned back against the headboard. “Take your time — sounds like you had a busy week.” His hands were hidden in his bag as he shuffled around inside. “This was fun,” he added quietly, the sound of his suitcase closing explosive in the silence.

“Mmm.” A vague sound, but you weren’t brave enough to say anything of substance. 

“When I fly back to London, I’m going to be stopping in Philly again,” he said. “If you’re around— maybe I can call you and see?” 

Not a dream — he was really standing in front of you asking if he could come up to see you sometime. When you didn’t respond, he looked at you from the corner of his eye, and you took a deep breath, snapping yourself out of your reverie. 

“Sure,” you said as nonchalantly as you could. “If I’m around.”

“If you’re around.” 

Jacket and cap on, Harry picked up his bag in one hand and held what looked like his passport and a boarding pass in the other. “Just gotta do one thing,” he muttered, and as he got closer, your lips parted. When he bent, though, he picked up the phone with one hooked finger and jabbed 0 with his knuckle. His necklaces dangled from his neck and he was so close his breath tickled your nose, eyes twinkling with mischief even as he mumbled a sorry. 

You were just about to playfully whisper that he did know it was a cordless phone, right, when you heard a pleasant, clipped voice on the other end. “Good morning,” he said. “M’calling because I’d like to see if it’s possible to get a late check out?” You shook your head but he ignored you. “Yeah— great, thanks. 2:00pm?” You rolled your eyes. “That’s perfect. Thank you so much, have a great day.”

“I won’t stay that long,” you said when he hung up.

“But now y’can if you want to.” 

Harry grinned even as you shook your head. 

“You have a plane to catch.”

“Kickin’ me out?” 

You shrugged and he chuckled. “Had a good time,” he said with the same quiet sincerity from before. 

“Me too,” you whispered. 

“Thank you. I’ll call—”

“Ok—”

You saw it, then — the faintest glimmer of hesitation and uncertainty, and honestly? You didn’t blame him. He’d flown in for a trip that, as far as you could tell, was for work, and he’d made a detour into the city for sex. The sex was done, and so was any physical intimacy, but it would feel… off to end the night with a handshake. 

Before you could think to say it was ok and he didn’t have to, though, he mumbled, “I’ll see you,” just as he leaned in. Short but not quick, you leaned into it, and then, just like that, it was over. 

***

You genuinely thought he’d forgotten about what he’d said. He was busy, and getting some wasn’t a priority, but when your phone rang with an unknown number some few weeks later, you paused and had half a second of questioning before picking up.

“Hello?” 

“Hello,” he returned it, sounding amused. “Y’not sure it’s me?” 

“I don’t have your number,” you reminded him. 

“Is now a good time to talk?” 

“Sure?” More of a question than an answer, but he went on before you could correct yourself.

“M’gonna be flying out tomorrow,” he said. In the background, you could hear noises like zippers and snaps, and he had a distant echo in his voice that made you wonder if you were on speaker. 

“Already?” you asked.

Harry laughed, loud but very far away. “Been a month or so,” he said.

“Really?” 

“S’almost the holidays, love,” he said. 

He was right — they were closer now than they were farther away, but it felt like only yesterday you’d been sweating and sharing a meal in a hole in the wall restaurant. 

“Are you free tomorrow night?” he asked. You bit your lip and your prolonged silence must’ve made him falter. “If you’re not, it’s ok,” he said. “Just wanted to ask, cause I know I said maybe… if—” 

“You’re flying to Philly from LA and then driving to the city?” 

Harry cleared his throat. “Actually… s’more like I’m flying into the city and then I’ll head on out to Philly… after….” 

After seeing you.

It was out of your mouth before you could think better. “You could stop by mine.” Silence greeted you and you kept talking to fill its void. “If the airport— I guess it depends— but even if you flew into Jersey you’d still have to go— except— I mean—”

He laughed on the other end and you groaned.

“I owe you dinner,” you said, face warm but a sheepish, unseen smile pulling at your mouth. “You’ve treated me twice.”

“Ok,” he drawled. “F’you wanna get me dinner, I can come by yours.” 

“I’ll text you the address — I have the thread.”

“And I’ll text you my number,” he added. “You should have it.”

Twenty-four hours later, you were rushing around your studio trying to make it feel like less of a shoebox. Stupid — you should’ve just asked for his hotel. He had to have one! This was sex, it wasn’t a you get this tab and I’ll get the next one sort of arrangement. The sheets on your bed were freshly changed, pillows fluffed (fluffed — who knew you’d ever fluff pillows), and you’d swept and wiped the floors down in the living-bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom alike, but everything still felt small and not enough. You’d lit some candles to try to compensate, but you’d gone on and off with them, blowing them and relighting them a handful of times as you went back and forth on whether or not they lent a feeling that didn’t belong in this sort of situation. Now, though, they burned and flickered on your coffee table, and you were just connecting your phone to the speaker when a knock on your door made you jump and spin.

“Coming!” 

You spared a cursory glance through the peephole before twisting locks and unhooking chains, his hulking figure filling your doorway.

“Texted,” he said apologetically. “But—”

“I was just cleaning up,” you said, opening the door wider. “Sorry— come in.” 

He shuffled past you with his printed luggage in hand, and your heart sank, ensnared in nerves, as he walked into the apartment that looked even smaller with him in it. Ears ringing, you could barely hear the notes of whatever album your phone had selected to autoplay. It was small, but it was yours — all yours — and if it didn’t meet his standards, then he didn’t have to stay.

“It’s—”

“Nice place,” he said slowly, and the upbeat lilt told you he wasn’t being facetious. Your shoulders fell with relief and the tension relaxed out of your neck. “That’s a nice candle,” he added, sniffing the air. 

“It’s a little smaller than your hotel room,” you said.

“Been on tour buses, love,” he said, setting his luggage down. “There’s not really much smaller than a bunk racing across the country.” 

Smiling, you squeezed your arms as he unzipped his coat and took his cap off. “How was your flight?” you asked.

“Dunno, really,” he said, running a hand through his mostly flattened curls. Unlike last time, he didn’t have his rings on, and his fingers looked longer and more slender without them. “Slept through most of it — had a bit of turbulence over Colorado or Utah or wherever, but it wasn’t tha’ bad.” 

“Good,” you said. “If you wanna… um….” You jerked your thumb towards a door. “Bathroom’s there, if you need to clean up or anything.”

He nodded. “That’d be great, thanks. In there?” 

You stepped aside to let him by, catching the distinct waft of plane and warmth and the spicy vanilla smell you’d come to associate with him. When he closed the door behind him, you exhaled and again spun through the apartment, shoving shoes under your bed to finish your tidying before carefully pulling the coffee table away from the sofa — his legs were longer, he’d need the room. You’d just smoothed out the rug when your phone buzzed and you grabbed it, seeing both the texts he’d sent you before that you’d missed in your focus as well as the one from your delivery man letting you know the food was outside. Perfect. 

“S’a good album,” Harry said from the bathroom doorway after you locked up again. You jumped, gripping the bag with a knuckle-popping hold. You didn’t think it was possible to be quiet and sneaky in a place like this. “Sorry,” he said, snickering.

“I like it,” you breathed. “Dinner’s….” You lifted the bag on your way past him and heard him trailing after you. You set it on the coffee table and sat on the sofa as you popped the staples on the paper bag. “It’s nothing amazing.”

“That’s a review,�� he teased, sitting next to you. “Now I can’t wait.”

“Shut up,” you said and he laughed loudly. “It’s just this place that’s nearish — El Diablito — they’ve got really good nachos and burritos.”

“Mexican, then?”

“Yeah.” Fuck. “Probably should’ve thought of that since you’ve just come back from LA,” you muttered.

“S’fine,” he said. “Didn’t really have much Mexican.”

You arched a brow and he coughed into his hand. 

“So, d’I get a burrito?”

You nodded and pulled a hot, foil-wrapped item out of the bag. “Careful,” you warned, purposefully busying yourself with pulling the rest of the food out of the bag as he unfolded it.

“Looks good,” he said. From the corner of your eye, you watched him adjust his grip and angle his head before stretching his jaw wide to take a bite. You looked away quickly, almost overwhelmed by how comical it’d been, but when you looked back you found him chewing thoughtfully.

“You can have some of my quesadilla if you don’t like it,” you said quickly. “And the nachos are for both of us to pick at.”

Still, he didn’t say anything, until at last he swallowed and his lips smacked several times. “S’good,” he said thickly. “Like, that’s….” He peered at the corner he’d bitten into almost in disbelief. “That’s really good.” Again he stretched his mouth almost comically wide, tongue out, and this time you did laugh. Mouth full, he glanced up at you with unblinking eyes and mumbled a muffled, “What?” through his bite. 

“Nothing,” you said, grinning and unwrapping your own food. “Go on, eat.” 

“All right, calm down,” he said. “Have the whole night ahead of us.”

[p1harmonyofficial]

[📰] Get to Know the Members of K-Pop Group P1Harmony With These 10 Fun Facts! (Exclusive)

P1Harmony is a rising global K-Pop troupe, but we wanted Just Jared readers to get an exclusive chance to know them a little better!

The talented six-member boy group first arrived on the scene back in October of 2020, embarking on their international music career with the release of their first mini album DISHARMONY: STAND OUT and feature film, P1H: A New World Begins, which positioned the group as a force to be reckoned with in the music scene.

Amid the pandemic, the group continued to make new music for their fans with the release of their second mini album, DISHARMONY: BREAK OUT, including their slamming, hip-hop infused title track “Scared,”” along with an accompanying music video full of street-style dancing and intense visual effects.

Watch “Scared” and check out these 10 Fun Facts about P1Harmony inside!

INTAK

1. I have more eyelashes on my right eye than my left. Right after my debut, I didn’t really know how to remove eye makeup, so for a while, I used to just rub my eyes really hard with soap and now, I have more eyelashes on my right eye than my left. 2. I used to love oysters, but now I cannot eat it. I was an oyster fanatic, until very recently. I ordered raw oysters after watching a TV show at night with JONGSEOB, and after one bite, I couldn’t eat it anymore. The taste of the “sea” was so pungent. Now, I’m too traumatized! 3. I saved a man’s life. I went chestnut picking with my dad, and found a guy hanging on a cliff and struggling to get back up. We immediately helped him get up. He was really grateful and I remember feeling so proud to have saved someone’s life! 4. I have a small horizontal scar on the right side of my face, and I kind of like it. I got this scar when I was about four or five, and although it’s not that visible now, sometimes I like it because it makes me feel like a charismatic, bad guy! 5. I love dogs. I love dogs, so I have been watching a lot of dog-related videos but I’m terribly allergic. I can’t stop myself from petting them when I see them on the street, and always regret it afterwards because I turn all puffy and itchy! 6. I fantasize a lot about time travel. I even tried and feel like it can really happen one day! I lie down in my bed, put my blanket over my entire body and focus really hard on the idea, but this brings me nowhere but to the future. [Laughs] 7. I have a gold tooth. 8. I have a brown spot (mole) on my middle finger. 9. I love my Crayon Shin-chan character earphones. I get happy just looking at it. 10. I go to the convenient store so much that there isn’t anything I have not tried!

THEO

1. My right shoulder is more developed than my left. I used to play volleyball and would strike with my right arm, so my right shoulder is more developed than my left. 2. I have a red mole. I recently got a red mole on the side of my right neck, but I have no idea where it came from and why but it’s not going away! 3. I can’t burp, literally. I don’t know how to burp and have never burped in my life 4. I only drink carbonated drinks. I rarely drink anything that is NOT carbonated. 5. I don’t like lettuce and tomatoes in my burgers. 6. I had a burst appendix and didn’t know it for a while. I was hospitalized for two months, because they couldn’t find my appendix. Apparently, my organs are shaped and structured differently. 7. I love slippers. Unless I am going to an official engagement or doing promos, I am always in slippers, (even during winter)! 8. I have never cried in front of people until I turned 20. I was watching a very emotional episode of “Animal Farm,” and got caught crying in front of KEEHO, SOUL and JIUNG. Since then, I think I’ve gotten more emotional. I once cried watching JONGSEOB cry, too. 9. I can’t stay still when I’m on the phone. I have to walk around or do something when I’m on the phone. 10. I love singing songs to my friends over the phone.

JIUNG

1. I love Tonkatsu (pork cutlet). I have been addicted to tonkatsu these days and have been eating it almost every day for the last few months. 2. I have the same birthday as my younger brother. My younger brother and I share the same birthday, which is Oct. 7. We were also born around the same time. 3. My younger brother and I have a similar birth time as well. I think he was born like 8 minutes before me or after! 4. I love raw garlic and don’t like kimchi. 5. I only drink flat coca-cola. I purposely decarbonate my coke by shaking it and letting the air out multiple times until the bottle doesn’t expand anymore and the coke is completely flat. 6. I still fit into my hats from my adolescent years. My head is so small that I still fit into all my hats from elementary school. 7. I think too much. I make daily memos and write down almost everything to organize my thoughts. 8. I like to dance and sing when the streets are empty. When no one is around and I’m in a good mood. I love walking down the empty street thinking I’m shooting a music video. I sing, dance and act. Last time, I bumped into someone and I ran away in full embarrassment! [Laughs]. 9. I have a scar on my eye. 10. I may look picky, but I’m not a picky eater! I love trying a lot of different cuisines.

KEEHO

1. I love collecting sunglasses and glasses although my eyesight is near perfect. I love wearing glasses even though I don’t need them to see. I also have been collecting a lot of sunglasses lately. 2. I talk during my sleep, apparently! According to my members, I sleep-talk a lot (almost every night), but I don’t remember any of it and I never have dreams. 3. I have the same birthday as my dad! 4. I can eat salads all day. I love salads! I love eating vegetables, especially celery and carrots, and prefer dressings like ranch and oriental. 5. I am not good at smiling. I have a hard time smiling so I’m still in the process of learning how to smile naturally! I have to make sounds out loud to smile [during photo shoots]. 6. I used to hate wearing sweatpants. I don’t know why but I hated sweatpants and never wore them when I was younger― even if I had to wear something more uncomfortable like slacks or jeans.. Now, I wear them all the time! 7. I rarely cry alone or in front of people. The only person who has seen me cry is INTAK. I was going through something heavy and was alone at a park by myself when INTAK came to pick me up. He started crying as soon as he saw me, and that made me cry. 8. I used to pull all my loose baby teeth. I hated having something loose in my mouth, so instead of waiting to go to the dentist, I used to pull them out on my own. 9. I have a light (barely noticeable) mole on my big toe. 10. I have curly hair, so unless I blow dry it, it goes wild.

SOUL

1. I used to collect beetles. I think I had up to 30 beetles in one big box. 2. I only wear Air Jordans. I only wear Jordans and my favorite design is the Air Jordan 1s. 3. I love dolls! I love buying and collecting dolls. I like anything that is cute and fuzzy. 4. I don’t like taking pictures of humans except KEEHO. I only take pictures of nature, architecture or like a beautiful scenery. The only time I would take a picture of a human is of KEEHO. 5. Me and my younger sister found an important historical stone artifact. We were just digging stuff up and found a stone artifact. We later learned it was a historically valuable artifact, so we donated it to a museum. 6. I wear my pants backwards. 7. I don’t like electric fans. I don’t like when wind blows in my face 8. I once had the same dream three times in a row. I had the same dream three times in a row, but every ending changed depending on the choices I made [in my dream]. 9. A bird pooped on my head while I was on my way to school. Without having much reaction, I just walked to school and waited until I had to go to the bathroom to wash. 10. I don’t get scared or surprised easily. I used to get yelled at for bowing down and saying hi to all the actors playing zombies, monsters or ghosts at haunted houses in theme parks.

JONGSEOB

1. I like books that are thick and with small letters for no particular reason. I tend to buy books that are thick, whatever the genre is. I think it’s because I’m a fast reader. 2. I never had cavities! I love eating sweets like jellies and candies. I can go through a whole pack in one sitting, but I’ve never had cavities! 3. I have something called a “knee hyperextension and/or back knee. My knee bends backwards in a straightened position unlike many people. 4 I love the dark. I usually don’t turn on the lights unless I really have to. 5. I could sleep for long periods of time. I once slept up to 16 straight hours, and I barely have dreams. Maybe like five times a year?! 6. I don’t like/eat seaweed or seagrass. 7. I love walking into a room that is super cold. I turn on the A/C and close the door for about 30 minutes so it can be ice cold before I walk in. 8. I want to learn how to play bass guitar one day! I watch random videos of jam sessions, and one day would really like to play bass guitar. 9. My eyesight is different on both eyes. I am near-sighted on one, and far-sighted on the other. 10. I am pretty good at playing games on my phone.

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Chapter Three: If We Have Each Other.

~When the world's not perfect When the world's not kind If we have each other then we'll both be fine. I will be your brother and I'll hold your hand. You should know I'll be there for you. I will always be there for you~

"Dude, we are in some serious jelly," I proclaimed as I paced around the small perimeter of the tree house.

"And that jam!" Isaac added from where he remained sitting at the table.

"Tight spot."

"Indeed!"

"Up a tree!" I supplied.

"Lost in the grass!" He offered. I swung around, shaking my finger at him.

"I'll tell ya what's grass, our- AAH FRACKLES!"  I had stepped on a stray nail in one of the floorboards. Hobbling my way back into my chair, I thunked my head against the table.

"But look at the bright side." Isaac leaned back in his chair. "Seeing as how our grand-theft-hairbrush is going viral and all, there is still a chance that me flipping the camera off could become a meme!" He pointed out. Slowly, I raised my head to stare at him.

"Are you kidding me right now?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"Consider it, Marty! All it took was five years being dead and now I'm finally fulfilling my life-long dream! If I'd known it was this easy, I would have killed myself a long time ago and spared me all that drama and emotional damage," Isaac smirked. I shook my head, my gaze drifted back to the Vader figure and snow globe sitting side-by-side on the shelf.

"Please don't talk like that Isaac," I sighed. Isaac's face fell.

"Sorry, I-I wasn't thinking," He apologized. I nodded.

"It's okay." It wasn't, but what more could be said when you didn't want to speak?

"Hey," Isaac spoke softly, ducking his head to get me to look at him, "Even if things go sour, I'm gonna be here for you. Just like I promised. Through thick and thin, remember?"

"Through thick and thin."

Smiling weakly, I repeated our life long mantra. I took a deep breath and focused back in on the problem.

"Alright, man. We gotta figure out a game plan. That video is gonna bring every hunter and their mom up here to ice our, or my, gluteus maximus. And if they know about the minimart then they know about the hospital. So, what's our play?"

"Well, I say you use your Sweet-Talkin' thing and talk any o'those alcoholic weirdos out of it," Isaac suggested. I shook my head.

"Isaac, you know how much I hate doing that."

Although it was a tempting idea, that wasn't something I wanted to mess with. If you start playing with the dark things, the dark things start playing with you. That wasn't a concept I liked, but Isaac would never understand that.

"I'm just saying it’s an option! And an easy one at that," Isaac pushed. I glared at him.

"I'm not doing that."

"It might come to it, Marty. I'm just saying as a plan C it-"

"The answer is no! Moving on." My tone killed and buried the subject. Isaac raised his hands in surrender.

"Fine. But misinformation is still our strongest tool. We should use it. Tell anybody who asks that it was all done on a computer," He conceded.

"Alright, that's plan A. What's plan B?"  Isaac's face twisted in thought. I let him do any and all planning when it came to telling a lie because he was so much better at making it convincing than I was. Isaac was the king of spouting believable bull crap. In fact, he would have made and excellent demon. That guy could probably get an angel to sell its soul for a box of holy doughnuts. When the idea hit Isaac's brain, I could almost see a light bulb light up above his head. He leaned forward, exited.

"Okay, I got it. We make up some BS story about a gay black dude who got chopped up by the ferry or something and the hospital wouldn't help him because all the doctors were racist homophobes, and it was the 50's." He nodded at me very seriously. Like I said, Isaac was king.

"That's is the worst, most ridiculous and stupid story I have ever heard," I told him. Isaac's nodding grew more excited. "It's perfect. They'll buy every word. Just one thing though, what about the mini-mart?" I pointed out.

Isaac opened his mouth before closing it again. Then he opened it. Then he closed it. Open. Closed. Open. Closed. This happened several more times before he finally came up with something good.

"So, our gay black guy was also a nice hobo dude and after he died he started stealing crap to give to his hobo buddies." Isaac gave me a thumbs up. I nodded.

"Okay, sounds good, sounds good. How do we explain me?" I splayed my hands. Isaac huffed and rolled his eyes, leaning back again and tucking his hands behind his head.

"Well, that’s easy. The camera never even caught a glimpse of your face, so you're his anonymous theft buddy slash item distributer!" He explained. I grinned at my fantastic phantasmal co-conspirator.

"Excellent, and of course nobody knows who the thief is. Especially not, innocent little me!" I chuckled at his brilliance.

"Exactly!" Isaac smirked.

"It's perfect! Except one last thing. We're gonna need some eyes and ears in on this. Someone to alert us when someone fishy comes lurking about," I said. Isaac nodded seriously.

"You're right. But who can we trust around here?" He asked. I could feel the smile split across my face.

"I can think of only one man for this job. A man as trustworthy as he is slimy. A man scrubbed clean by his own filth. A man so wonderful, words do him no justice!" I declared dramatically. Isaac was confused for a moment before realization dawned. His face fell.

"Please tell me you're not thinking what I think you're thinking."

"I think I am." I grinned. Isaac just sighed.

"Marty, no."

"Marty, yes!"

- 45 minutes later-

"Yo! Danny, my man! How's life?" I called out. Dan-the-Dope-Man looked up from...whatever it was he was doing outside Copper Harbor's one and only pharmacy. The pharmacy which he, in fact, owned. Honestly, I didn't want to know exactly what he had been doing behind the pile of cardboard boxes that were stacked up against the moldy brick. I figured it was better if I didn't. Dan smiled a grin that was missing two teeth.

"Marty! My worst customer and only friend! Life's good!" He greeted me, kicking a few of the boxes over to hide whatever suspicious activity it was that he had been up to. He winked and walked over to me, pushing his absolutely disgusting blond hair out of his face. "But, you know, business is betta'," He concluded.

I could never tell how tall Dan was, in this form especially. See, Dan-the-Dope-Man was a shapeshifter, though of course, no one else in the town knew that. That's how he was the owner of the pharmacy as well as a drug dealer. His other form, Jonathan De’ Santos, was the tall, 40-year-old, honest-looking Hawaiian man that ran the pharmacy. In this form, however, Dan was a somewhere-in-the-upper-five-foot-range Caucasian guy from Brooklyn with a thing against bathing. He said that the grungy, sewer-rat look was better for his side business. I wasn't sure how much of that I bought, but then again, who's gonna buy drugs from the guy who's supposed to make sure you don't destroy yourself with them.

"I bet it is!" I said, taking a step back when he reached me because, like I said, the guy had a thing against hygiene.

"This is a terrible, terrible idea," Isaac muttered, leaning on the wall to my left. I couldn't reply to him because although Dan knew what I was he didn't know about Isaac. So all I could do was give him a rude gesture behind my back. He saw it and stuck his tongue out at me.

"What can I do fo' ya, Marty?" Dan always pronounced my name as 'Mawty' at least in this form as it had a Brooklyn accent.

"Well, o' Danny boy, I have some rather bad news to deliver," I continued, "There might be some hunters coming to town soon."

Dan frowned; his eyes narrowed at me as he folded his arms over his chest.

"Well, that ain't good. Whatt'id ya do, Marty?" He asked. Sometimes Dan could be like my older brother, even if he didn't realize it.

"Woah, woah, woah! Who said I did anything?!" I defended. Dan just raised an eyebrow.

"You're always showin' off and ya know it," He said simply.

"He's right, you know," Isaac interjected. I wished I could tell him to shut his eidolic cake hole. It wouldn't have made much of a difference if I could, as he would still have continued talking, but the principle remained the same. Isaac was annoying. He needed to shut his mouth now and again. But I couldn't say that right now because he was a flipping ghost and ghosts are invisible. Mostly.

Ignoring Isaac, I opened my mouth to try to argue with Dan but quickly closed it again when found that I couldn't, because he was absolutely right. Now, I couldn’t admit that to him because Isaac was right here and that would be saying that he was right about something, and that was a thing I would never hear the end of.

"In regards," I started again.

"You'd just say 'regardless'," Isaac chimed in. I had to physically bite my tongue to keep from screaming at him to shut up.

"Regardless," I corrected. Isaac chuckled. I really needed to get myself some iron gauntlets or something so I could give his apparitional arse an involuntary appendectomy. Or just an iron ring so I could punch him in the face.

"Regardless, it wasn't me. This time. It was some attention seeking moron with a computer. That combined with my little hospital trips and you get something fishy looking." I finally managed to finish my sentence without Isaac chiming in.

"Well then ya betta' keep ya head down, Marty. I don' wan' ya gettin hurt." A dark look crossed over Dan's usually upbeat face. "Or worse," He finished.

"I know Danny, which is why I need you to do something for me," I said. Isaac sighed and face palmed but I ignored it.

"What?" Dan asked.

"I need you to watch out for any newcomers asking weird questions. I've got a plan if any hunters get too close to us, I just need to know who and where they are," I told him.

See, the pharmacy, the mini-mart, the bar, and the barber shop all sat across from each other at a four way intersection. Thus, Dan would have an excellent view of any hunter's first two targets. The origin of the supernatural activity, in this case the mini-mart, and the bar. He would be the perfect spy. Dan looked at me strangely.

"Say, Marty, you ain't plannin' on gankin' any a' dose' suckas' now are ya?" He asked, caution evident in his voice. I sighed, shaking my head internally. This was just another downside of being what I was. Everybody thinks you're a murderer. Though I knew I was far from innocent, I had never killed anyone. At least, anyone who didn't deserve it.

"Come on, Danny. In all the time you've known me, have I ever, er, ganked anyone?" I asked him, spreading my hands as if to catch the obvious answer.

"Well, no. But people can change," Dan pointed out. I rolled my eyes.

"Dan, I'm not gonna kill anyone. There, ya happy?" I said, only mildly aggravated. Isaac decided it was time to speak up again.

"You may not. But I will. If it comes to that. I won't let anybody hurt you, Marty. Not again. Not when I can do something about it."

I knew he was saying this now so I wouldn't be able to argue with him. Then I would forget and if he did kill someone Isaac would say he'd said he would. I ground my teeth together and reminded myself that it wasn't going to come to that. I wouldn't let it.

Meanwhile, Dan thought about what I'd spoken aloud.

"Yeah okay, but if anybody comes sniffin' I'm skippin', kay?" He agreed. I nodded.

"Okay, take care of yourself, Danny."

"You too, Marty." I smiled at him and began to walk away. Isaac pushed himself off the wall and trudged behind me, complaining loudly.

"Make sure you take care of yourself too, Issac! I'd hate myself if anything happened to you, Isaac! I wouldn't be able to survive without you, Isaac! Thanks Marty, your friendship means everything to me!" He said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Ugh! Why do I even bother?"

I smirked giving him the sign for 'I love you' behind my back.

"Aw shut up!"

But I knew he was smiling.

~So, I'm thankful for my sister even though sometimes we fight When high school wasn't easy, she's the reason I survived. I know she'd never leave me and I hate to see her cry. I just wanna tell her that I'm always by her side. I just wanna tell her that...

The worlds not perfect, but it’s not that bad. If we've got each other and that’s all we have I will be your brother and I'll hold your hand You should know I'll be there for you When the world's not perfect When the world's not kind If we have each other then we'll both be fine I will be your brother and I'll hold your hand You should know I'll be there for you.

I will always be there for you.~

Lyrics from: If We Have Each Other by Alec Benjamin

[moprocrastinates]

Sit By My Side, and Let the World Slip:

||| Chapter Three |||

Chapter Rating: T

Summary: If Jude had had her own way, her own wedding, it would’ve been different. Part II of the Best Friends AU.

(Read on A03!)

The most deplorable thing about weddings is, absolutely, the dresses.

Frankly, Jude could’ve done without the huge, poofy tulle, the puffed sleeves, and the stupid, ever-insufferable heels. She could’ve done without her hair pinched with hundreds, if not thousands, of pins, her cheeks pinched and layered with pink rouge, and thick kohl lining her eyes and sliding down into her tear ducts as the day goes on. She isn’t as dainty as Taryn, either, so the heels blister and knock her off balance; when Jude walks, she walks. Thunders, Cardan would tease. The Earth feels her footsteps as she moves; flowers bloom opposite the sun, just to hide from her shadow, creatures hear the stomp of her boots against the grass and scatter to their hidden homes, and the trees sing their own warning with the bustle of the breeze: Jude Duarte is coming. Stay out of her way.

But Taryn’s wedding is the product of Elfhame’s finest: sweet, dark wines served in glittering chalices, chocolate truffles dipped in jams and jellies, and fresh veggies and fruits piled so high atop a silver tray that Jude isn’t completely sure she can see the top. A silver walkway leads the way to the altar, and a beautiful arch, resplendent with blue and purple flowers covering every opening, stands proudly in the middle, awaiting the moment Taryn and Garrett say, “I do.”

If Jude had had her own way, her own wedding, it would’ve been different. For starters, her dress wouldn’t be white, perhaps a dark gray that sparkles when touched by the moonlight of the eve. It would be slim fitting, long enough to hide the bruises and scabs on her knees from her MMA classes but short enough for her to move in. She would dress as herself as much as she could (as much as Taryn would let her): comfortable boots, maybe, or a pair of dusty black Converse with ‘JUDE’ etched by Cardan in the soles. There wouldn’t be a need for the hairpins, or the bits and bobs that glittered now in Taryn’s hair, because if Jude were marrying someone, she’d marry them as she was, as open and herself as she wanted them to be with her.

Not that Taryn and Garrett weren’t marrying each other. They were.

It just seemed—well, too much, if Jude really had to put a word to it. Too glamorous, like they were covering something up.

But this is Taryn’s affair, gawdy and shiny and royal as it was. Jude doesn’t get to have an opinion.

“How many more pins?” She asks, pressing yet another pin into Taryn’s updo, the thing coiffed and polished and far too stiff for her own liking. “Vivi or Heather’s going to have to run to the store to grab more if I try to fit anymore in this... beehive.”

“Don’t rope me into this!” Vivi’s voice comes from across the room where she is fruitlessly trying to tie a Windsor knot around her neck. Her suit, a deep blue with black lapels, matches Jude’s own dress, another tulled monstrosity that sweeps out around her hips like a bell. The upper half is a corset (Jude curses the day Taryn chose these dresses—how the hell is she going to breathe?) immaculately and painstakingly detailed with a few fake diamonds. When she’d seen it on the mannequin, Jude thought it was the night sky personified.

Her own eyes, her twin’s eyes, stare back at her in the mirror. “I don’t know. Perhaps a few more?” Her sister brushes away an errant flyaway, the corners of her lips turning up in a half smile. Jude can’t help but smile back. “I want to make sure it doesn’t move if the wind blows.”

“That’s what you get for having an outdoor wedding,” Vivi says dryly, arching a brow. Jude hears her snort as she comes up behind them and eyes Taryn’s hairdo. “Taryn, if she puts any more pins in there, it’s going to look like the trees you’re going to be standing under.”

“Fine, fine!” Taryn huffs, her eyes rolling in tandem with her words. Her wave off is a smidgen patronizing, but she does manage to stand without falling over. Hands shaking, although Jude can’t tell if it was from nerves or from something else, Taryn brushes down her gown and looks at them both. “How do I look?”

“Like a princess.” Jude blurts out. Taryn really does, like in one of those fairytales, someone who marries their prince and lives happily ever after.

Vivi’s cat eyes flicker up Taryn’s gown and then back down again. “I guess if Garrett’s intention is to marry up, he’s doing pretty well.” She shrugs as a sly smile forms on her lips.

Taryn turns a beet red, coughing lightly, and brushes yet another hand down her dress, stopping this time on her abdomen.

In the last few years, given their rocky relationship, Jude hadn’t had much practice reading Taryn’s facial expressions. But now, the paleness and fear crawling up her face is unmistakable. “Taryn—” She starts.

“When does this shindig start?” A voice rises from the doorway. “If it’s going to be any longer, I’m going to start day drinking.”

All three turn to look at the mass of curly hair that appears around the corner, its owner’s face popping around just seconds behind. Jude can’t help that her eyes immediately seek out his own, or that they drift across his face, taking in every bit of him. Should she ever lose him, at least she’d have this memory. Cardan is like a marble statue, carved exquisitely, polished to a shine. How he walked down a street without every single person stopping and gawking at him, wondering if he’d deign to spare them a glance, Jude doesn’t know. Cardan’s jaw—oh, his jaw— is smooth as glass, and Jude can see how his long lashes lift from his face to stare at her. Half-lidded, his dark eyes meet hers only momentarily, flicking down to her dress, from the high heels to the tight bodice. When they find hers again, there is something there, something dark and deep and tinted with fear.

She thinks she might have seen him swallow. Hard. But—no.

Jude has no idea how much time passes in those moments, only knows that she can’t move, couldn’t move, couldn’t look away. The wind could’ve turned into a hurricane, blistering, violent, and devastating, and it wouldn’t have moved her. She wouldn’t have moved for anything. Cardan’s eyes root her to the spot.

But what’s in them scares her far more than anything she’s ever felt before.

“Cardan!” Taryn yelps, darting over to him and throwing her arms around him. Cardan’s face pales; his mouth drops open a little in surprise. He hugs her back tentatively, eyes wide as Taryn swings him a little with the force of her hug.

Help me, his eyes beg.

Jude smirks, and shakes her head. No way. It’s her day.

Behind her, Vivi snickers.

Taryn pulls away from Cardan, again smoothing her dress down and letting her hand stop ambiguously to her abdomen. “Guess I should go, eh?” She smiles at them, although it wobbles.

Jude steps forward. “Taryn—” She tries. Taryn meets her eyes, pausing.

Not now, her sister’s eyes say. So Jude nods, and watches as Vivi steps forward to link arms with Taryn.

“We’ll give you five minutes before we walk,” Vivi whispers to Jude, nudging her with a sharp elbow to the ribs. “Remember—the bride goes last, Jude.”

Taryn’s lips curl in the tiniest of smiles. Her gaze flickers once to Jude, then Cardan, who had stepped forward to stand next to Jude. Then, with Vivi tugging her along, they disappear around the corner.

“So, uh,” Jude swallows. Her skin feels suddenly sticky, as if slathered with a thin sheen of honey. If the temperature of the room rose, she probably wouldn’t even notice. “Is everyone else ready to go?”

“Yes.” Cardan murmurs, eyes looking up to hers. “They’re all waiting.”

“Oh.” Fuck. She swallowed again. This is too much. “We should go; no use in keeping everyone waiti—” Her feet stumble towards the door, unused to the height of the heels.

I’m like a baby deer in these, Jude thinks just before the tip of the heel catches in a crack in the floor, and she falls forward—

—landing right into Cardan’s arms. He had moved quickly, silently, but catches her surely, long fingers wrapping around her wrists and holding her steady.

Jude looks up at him for what feels like the first time, held securely in his arms. For all of Cardan’s faults, he would never drop her.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” His voice is brusque, sharp, when it comes out. She hasn’t heard that tone from him in a while, not since they’d become friends.

“No, I haven’t.” She hears the slippery slope that is denial die on her tongue.

“Really? Are you certain? I seem to remember you taking one look at me this afternoon and bolting without even a hello.” Cardan furrows his brows, face darkening.

Jude remembers that. Cardan had been standing outside the venue when Jude arrived, looking absolutely dashing in his tuxedo. Crisp and pressed, it had lain against his body at all the right places, and it had taken damn near everything in Jude not to march up to him and smack a kiss to his lips.

Just as she had last night at the bachelor-bachelorette parties.

Which he had been so drunk during.

Which had caused him to smile at her goofily and her heart to nearly explode in her chest.

Which was why she kissed him.

A kiss he didn’t obviously remember. Because if he had, he would’ve said something, because Jude’s stubborn in a way he is not. She is not going to lose her best friend over something as trivial and stupid as her unrequited feelings, no, no. If she’s going to lose Cardan, it’s going to be for a significant reason, like they had fought over a way of writing or illustrating that didn’t fit their book, or that Cardan started dating Nicasia again, or, she doesn’t know, something else. Not something this bloody stupid. Not her damn feelings.

So she bolted.

Damn, she’s waited too long. Her words slide out of her mouth as she replies, “Taryn needed me,” which was true. A half lie, one of obfuscation and omission.

Cardan arches a brow. “Taryn walked in ten minutes after you.”

“That’s beside the point!” Her sputter is pitiful, and both of them know it.

She can’t look at him. Unlike Cardan’s, anyone can read anything on Jude’s face. (“Usually anger!” Vivi’s cheerful voice says in the back of her mind.) A stranger could take one look at her face right now and know the depths of her feelings for Cardan.

Well, except maybe Cardan himself, because if he loved her or even remotely reciprocated her feelings, surely he would’ve said something by now.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. She’ll just have to keep her gaze on her shoes for the entire wedding, damned as they are.

“What did I do?” Cardan asks softly. The softness is something Jude wants to curl up in, cloak herself and surround herself with, but if Jude didn’t know him so well, she would have thought she had also heard heartbreak in his tone.

“Nothing.” With a jerk, she is out of his arms, putting one foot in front of the other as she tenuously stepped out the door. The hallway outside was clear of any people, and that was good—she could keep her head down and not bump into anyone. No one needs to hear this conversation. “It’s all me, this time.”

“What are you talking about?” Before she takes any more steps to the outside doors, Cardan strides in front of her, blocking her path. “You haven’t done anything to me.” He looks wild now, desperate in a way she’s never seen. His eyes might even be a little blurry if she squinted.

Jude opens her mouth. To rebuff him, she reminds herself. This friendship can only be preserved if she never admits to her feelings. And she can’t lose him. He’s her best friend. The only one she can even trust.

But Cardan’s eyes, deep and focused on her, are fierce with that... thing, that emotion she can’t quite place.

He’s begging me.

So she takes a breath. It is a deep one, full of lethargy, reluctance, and fear. Resignation, too, all wrapped into one.

Because he’s her best friend, because she loves him more than anything, she’ll tell him.

“I haven’t done anything to you yet,” Jude says. “But I will. Once I can’t hold it in any longer. You’ll not forgive me, and I’ll lose you.” She sighs and lets her shoulders drop, relaxes the instinctive fighting stance she’d found herself in. “I always knew I would, because everyone falls in love with Cardan Greenbriar. I’d hear the whispers about it when I first moved here, the outsider in this strange place, and they whispered it again when you and I became friends and I found myself always at your side. You always laughed when people asked you out, or smirked when someone flirted with you, and I knew then you didn't want that. Might never want it with anyone, because you were so content just to be yourself, and the only person I knew you'd dated was Nicasia, who I was nothing like. I swore to myself I wouldn’t fulfill the prophecy, because you’re my best friend and I couldn’t—can’t lose this, but here I am, all these years later.”

She feels rather than sees Cardan breathe, as close as he is to her, but Jude doesn’t dare look up. Brown eyes drift to his hands, clasped together so tightly and unmoving they look made of marble.

“I love you. That’s what I’m trying to say.” The words dance from her lips into the air, a gentle puff of air she feels she might want to snatch back.

“Jude…” A voice, almost ethereal in tone but firm in its volume, drifts to her. But she knows it, would know it anywhere.

It’s not Cardan’s voice.

She looks up, away, over Cardan’s shoulder to see Vivi standing there, resplendent in her suit and with a sad expression on her face. “It’s time to go,” Vivi says, the quietest Jude’s ever heard her. She looks a little devastated, too, much like how Jude feels.

Cardan hasn’t said anything.

Jude nods to herself once. Then again, jerkily. “Okay.” She glances up once at Cardan, whose mouth is half-open, face pale and impenetrable—well, she can’t really read his face. For once. Maybe she never has.

All she knows is that he doesn’t say anything as she follows her sister out to where Taryn waits to walk down the aisle. He doesn’t say anything after the wedding is over, or at the reception, or even the day after.

She feels his gaze on her nearly the entire time.

But he still doesn’t say anything.

[fluorescentpipedream]

Updated a few of my characters’ pictures last night when I was having an ADHD moment while playing WoW. 

So...

Daryl “Mason” Knox - This version of Daryl is part of our Zombie storyline (the premise of which I barely remember) and currently in the mountains above Colorado. He is a survivalist already, tanner, taxidermist and wicked good shot and when the virus began circulating, he packed up his pickup truck and headed as far into the mountains as he could. He had been in Tennessee for a little while but left there when the area started to fall as well, moving around a lot for a while before settling high in the mountains where it’s coldest, realizing the undead have a hard time moving through the snow and it seems to make their bodies more brittle. He stumbles upon Ryki and Kristy’s group (shortly after they get Mikael back from the roaming motorcycle gang (see Widower/Simon). Daryl was under the assumption that most of his family had died when the virus first took hold and started using his middle name, Mason, instead of his last name. 

Daryl Knox - Daryl is the survivalist of the Knox men, the youngest but the one who has his fingers the most in the various family businesses and also the one who discovers that a good portion of the Knox family land that backs the Blue Ridge Mountain range actually belonged to the Cherokee tribe and gives it back to them, only asking if they can continue to use the land as the hunting area he currently has it set up as. Daryl and his brothers also took a portion of the money made from the Knox Lodge (a small series of cabins built closest to the Chattahoochee National Park people can rent and go fishing and hunting for deer, quail and even armadillos) and give it back to the slave families that their great great grandfather had working for them. Daryl is quieter than the rest of his brothers, sticking to living away from nearly everyone and only coming down from the mountains when he is dropping off supplies at the Knox Family General Store in Jasper, Georgia where the family is primarily from. The general store is very rustic looking, with the old fashioned candy jars behind the counter and a small restaurant in the back where the family sells their homemade pies. (They also sell locally made and sourced jellies and jams, as well as jerky and unique gifts. Think trading post for the interior) A skilled taxidermist, Daryl has a special he runs through the Lodge that if you shoot it, he’ll stuff it (for a fee of course). 

Schyler Lewis - A former Scorpion and currently a Slayer in Los Angeles, Schyler is quiet but loving and loyal. He’s also one hell of a shot with pretty much anything, though he prefers knives over everything. He has a deep respect for RJ Jamison, as well as the former leader, BP and keeps a protective/big brother kind of watch on Queenie. He and Simon are pretty good friends, he often tries to keep an eye on the older man to keep him from going crazy.

Trevor Phillips (nothing changed, just both versions of him are going to use the same picture)

Simon Knox - Simon is the middle Knox brother, only a few years older than Daryl though he’s not particularly close to most of his family anymore. He and Jericho had once been vying for the same girl’s attention, but when he was sent to prison for a bar fight/blackout he missed the chance to be with her, even though he does very much still love her. When Simon was released from prison, Jericho gave him the chance to come home and get back on his feet again (the courts and mental health professionals released him on account of him having absolutely no memory of the bar fight other than some kid pushing him too hard and spitting on him. His anger flared up and he didn’t remember anything that had happened after that point. It wasn’t until an officer hit him on the back of the head did he come around again) and while he’s there, he and Maggie ended up in bed together after he told her what had happened. He had a ring and had been going out with a few friends the night before coming to see her. He is actually Ryder’s father, and Jericho does know. Following Ryder’s first outburst and slamming his head into the wall, tearing a stuffed animal and general unprovoked rage, Jericho had come to bed with a few scratches on his arms and gently kissed Maggie’s forehead, not coming right out and saying anything about the possibility but just telling her that whatever thing that’s weighing on her heart right now, it’s okay and he forgives her.  (Ryder has similar violent outbursts like his father, though recognizing it as was what going on with Simon, Jericho instead got his son therapy to deal with the outbursts as well as getting him involved in boxing.)

Following Ryder’s birth (and Simon getting to hold his son), Simon leaves and joins the Outlaw motorcycle gang though moves around a lot after that, winding up “settling” with Haven for a while before finally establishing a place with the Scorpions. He made quick friends with Schyler, despite a several year age gap, and when the Scorpions were assimilated into the Slayers in LA, he stayed on with them. He is prone to blackouts and violent outbursts and unfortunately does not possess much in the way of empathy toward nearly anyone. He does very much like children, and wouldn’t mind finally getting to have a family of his own. He is pansexual and it doesn’t seem to matter to him who he’s with, as long as they’re over a certain age. He’s not overly thrilled with the relationship RJ has with Jamie but she’s safe and not in any danger so he doesn’t say much about it either way. He and Floki of the Vikings have rolled around a few times, but generally speaking he is still very much in love with Maggie. Part of the reason he stays away from his family is because of how Jericho has been treating his “dying” wife. (Jericho is having an affair with a younger nurse/friend of his daughter Lorelei, while his wife is presumed to be dying from stage 4 cancer. She does make a rather miraculous recovery though, leaving him and going out to the man who has always loved her) 

Simon has some seriously reckless traits and has actually had to be sedated by members of his own gang because his anger will flare up and he goes berserk. He has NO control over his actions whenever he blacks out either. Following BP and his wife’s untimely death, Simon is taken by the Slayers along with several others and thrown into the Pit, basically an abandoned warehouse near the docks that has been hollowed out and made into a fight arena. Because of his anger issues there’s a few that believe he could have been pushed to a breaking point and lashed out, though BP never pushed his buttons and he has no desire to take the gang over. When Rollo and a handful of the Vikings reveal themselves as the masterminds (and hired by Marcone to do the deed), Simon is the one who takes an axe off of Floki’s hip, throwing it into the back of Rollo’s head before kneeling down in front of Queenie and telling her he’s always been loyal to BP and subsequently, to her.

Widower (Simon Knox) - This version of Simon is for our zombie alt world and currently in Tennessee with the Savior gang run by a Negan type. In this world, Simon was able to remarry Maggie and the two of them were living quiet happily, considering starting their family when her cancer makes a return and is incredible aggressive. As the virus starts to spread through Atlanta and they begin seeing how it eats away at the host’s body only to reanimate them, Maggie begs Simon to shoot her so she doesn’t have to suffer through her cancer and the possibility of getting the virus. At first he refuses to do it but after the hospitals shut down due to too many people contracting the virus, he takes her up to one his brother’s hunting cabins and shoots her, burying her in the backyard. He had attempted to shoot himself as well but the gun jammed and he ended up throwing it into the river instead. After Atlanta falls and the zombie virus appears to be spreading through the small towns, taking the Knox family out as far as he can tell. He and Daryl were traveling together for a little while but were separated and Simon lost track of his little brother. Assuming that his family is dead (since there’s no trace of any of them and the communications network was the first thing to go down) he gets on the back of his motorcycle and leaves. He first meets Morgan (Negan) and his group, Haven, when they stumble upon one another trying to refuel and get supplies. Simon is unhinged and no longer even trying to hide his homicidal side, since no one is there to hold him back any longer he’s completely off his rocker. He initially told Morgan and the rest to call him Widower, as he didn’t even want to link himself to the man he used to be. If the virus is ever contained, he isn’t sure there’s going to be much of a world left for him. 

Widower, Morgan and I think there’s an NPC version of Schyler with them as well find 5 yr old Mikael after the little boy panicked and ran from his aunt and uncle’s convoy during one of the zombie attacks. Morgan grabbed the boy as he was crying by the back of his jacket and puts him onto his motorcycle leading Kristy and Ryki and their group to give chase to get him back. Morgan had a son once and may have done this in order to protect him, not initially seeing the small group of survivors on the road. Widower takes over kind of protecting the little boy when their group stops at an old warehouse they use as a base. 

Morgan Caldwell - I haven’t actually decided if I’m going to make Morgan but he is Sam Caldwell’s older brother and Martin & Lynn’s uncle. He is the leader of the Haven motorcycle gang which moves around a lot and Simon was part of for a while. He is incredibly disappointed in how his little brother acts and very much wants to meet his estranged niece and nephew. 

Morgan “Negan” Caldwell - The zombie-verse version of Morgan, I know little about the man other than Widower is his right hand man and fiercely loyal to him. He genuinely seems to be concerned for Mikael and after meeting Kristy and finding out she’s pregnant while going through the virus, he may offer their services to them, as protection (or he may try to keep Kristy with him and his group masking using the air of wanting to protect her until she gives birth) There’s a lot of ways this guy can go. He isn’t particularly trustworthy, and has said one thing only to do the direct opposite of that less than a few minutes later. 

Kevin Reynolds - the oldest Reynolds brother and also the only one that’s biological to the Reynolds family. Kevin was 10 when Matt was adopted and 12 when Vartan came to live with them as well. The family typically fosters children, and seeks to give them a better life than the one they had. Kevin is currently in his later 40s, and lives in Chicago where he owns an old-fashioned record store (with actual records on the upstairs level) called Empire Records, or just The Empire by his teen/20-something staff. Kevin is gay and actually just lost his husband Jimmy to AIDS. Jimmy was the drummer for his brothers’ band Silex, and actually younger than Kevin was as well. He is currently having issues with depression following the loss of the only love in his life (up til now, obviously), though he actually has clinical depression as well. He and Matt absolutely cannot stand one another, mostly due to Matt’s homophobia, though Kevin has always been out so he’s not sure exactly where that stems from. He and Vartan are close, despite the 12 year age gap. Empire Records is a somewhat failing business, though is eventually brought under the wing of Revolver Records for its vintage, throwback to the late 80s/90s music scene and often becomes the site of the Revolver bands’ signings, which boosts their sales quite a bit too. 

Ryder Knox is getting a new picture, I just need to figure out who he actually looks like, taking his dad into a bit more consideration right now. The Knox men also all have a very distinct smile, so gotta find someone that fits. I’m stuck between these two: 

Ryder is 22 years old and lives in an apartment on his own which he pays for by an OnlyFans account. With close to 1000 subscribers, he makes money selling pictures of anything from his feet to being shirtless (sometimes in his underwear) on parts of the Knox farmland. Very gay but not very out about it. 

@musesnotebook​

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.15

Jealousy Incarnate

11/09/2019

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 6,639

Warnings: language, angst, pining, fluff, jealousy, confused Peter Parker

A/N: Oh man, I’ve had a WEEK. My pain flared up out of nowhere and then I just couldn’t focus my brain. It was hell to get this chapter out, not because I didn’t want to but I just couldn’t. It rarely happens but I just couldn’t concentrate. Anyway, I hope you like this one. Things are...changing. Let me know what you think! As this story gets so many comments, I cannot reply to all of them but I DO read them all. I will try and respond to some of them. I love y’all so much. You mean the world to me. If you happen to reblog, thanks for helping me spread my work! xoxo

TAGS ARE CLOSED FOR THIS STORY!

You didn’t know you could be this angry. This hurt. This…jealous?

The festering boil that Maggie’s constant mention had brought, you thought, had been done away with.

True to his word, Steve did everything in his power to show you that it was you and only you.

As you’d begun your descent through the castle's pretty dark oak hallways, warm wooden walls lined with portraits and colorful tapestries, you’d almost made up your mind to pull him aside and just give in.

Love him as you were meant to. As you’ve been wanting to do.

You've been feeling less and less apprehensive with his Majesty and you’re just about ready to welcome him back into your bed.

Back into your life, properly. As your husband.

You still need to tell him about the baby too. Another month gone and you still haven’t told him, and your belly is just starting to swell.

You reach down and give it a quick caress over your dress, fingers tracing the delicate and ornate embroidery of the firm black bodice. The orange silk shirt underneath with it’s ruffled and off the shoulder neckline keep you cool in the last heatwave of autumn before true winter comes. Does it snow here? You aren’t sure.

The gray skirt is light weight, flowing around you like a gossamer cloud with only the faintest hints of black thunder within.

Around your neck you’re wearing your locket. Carefully you reach up to fix it as you head for the garden, where you know his Majesty will be.

He goes every day to walk the space, wondering if today will be the day you come down, or so he says.

You’ve tried to catch glimpse of him in the weeks past and you do see him wandering around in the afternoons.

Today you’re sure is the day to forgive him. Truly forgive him. For everything. Today, you and his Majesty can start all over again. Today is the day that your new life begins.

Turning into the garden, your feet stutter as you watch his Majesty walk towards the hedge and flower maze entrance, his wide shoulders relaxed. He has his hands held behind his back, but his face is happy, smiling, not a care in the world it seems.

Not even for you.

Despite his proclamations of coming down here to wait for you, there he goes, walking side by side with a blonde woman who stands taller and firmer than you will ever be. Her body even through the luxurious diamond blue gown she’s wearing is clearly fit and able.

You’re no slouch but her body is ridiculous. Carefully crafted protection. You shouldn’t compare. You shouldn’t do it, but your body is swelling. Your breasts are already growing larger. The fatty places, already soft and jiggly are thickening more.

She reaches out to grab his Majesty’s bicep and gives it a squeeze as she laughs, and he laughs with her.

He’s laughing with her!

You’re not expecting the tightness in your chest at the sight of him smiling and laughing with someone else. Not pulling away when she touches him the way he’d done so many times with you.

You can still remember trying to reach for his hand on your wedding day and he’d quickly pulled his hand out of reach.

You see red and huff. Fed up.

He turns to talk to her but then as you step back, your movement seems to catch his eye.

Quickly as you can, while his smiling eyes are taking a split second to recognize you, you turn and hurry back towards the castle, moving around the garden gate and out of sight, a flurry of voile skirt following in your wake.

You hear him before you see him, heart pounding with betrayal.

Suddenly he’s on you, his hand around your wrist as you turn to look at him, confusion and hurt in your eyes.

“Y/N…” He says in thick desperation that forms a lump in your throat. “You came.”

He smiles. And you hate him all over again.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Come with me.” Nat urges you, moving to pull you up from bed.

“Nat, I’m not even dressed yet.” You complain, moving towards the basin in the corner of your room where you’ve taken to running every morning. Sometimes after midday as well.

This baby is not making your pregnancy easy.

Nat sees where you’re headed and her excitement fades as her brow furrows instead.

“You okay?” She releases your hand and instead wraps an arm around your lower back.

“I’m fine.” You chuckle, pushing her arm away.

She and grandmother have been fussing over you since she arrived, watching your every move, every pain, every dizzy spell.

“Just a bit sick to my stomach. Nothing out of the ordinary.” You assure her and stop by your table instead to pick at your breakfast.

You stare at the jam in agony, wishing you could take a bite of the strawberry delicacy that his Majesty had sent up for you two mornings ago. It was better than the last and you wish you could eat it, but the baby does not like it and so, it sits there. Ignored.

You eat only a bit of bread. Then carefully raise the cup of wormwood and mint tea, suggested by grandmother for its calming properties.

Scrunching your nose, you sip it, and relish when your stomach settles a little. The taste is not exactly your favorite, but you’ll gladly sacrifice your taste buds to stop being sick every five minutes.

“Are you sure? I can fetch Grandmother.” Nat offers, adopting the name you’ve been calling the old woman since she arrived.

“I’m sure. I’ll feel better when I can eat. I’m hungry but at the same time, I cannot stand to look at food.” You sigh, missing your jams and jellies.

“Well, let’s get you dressed.” She hurries over to your wardrobe to look at your dresses and opts for something simple.

A white gown made of flowing light fabric. It kind of looks like cotton but not quite. It’s minimal compared to the other gowns you’ve worn around the castle. Just white. No design. Only a simple ruffle around the neck to accent your bust.

“Why?” You plead without whining.

“Because I have something to show you. Something that you must see. No exceptions. I also have something for you when we get down there.” She offers ominously.

“Down where?” You ask, moving to her as she throws your dress over the back of the opposite chair at your table then holds her hands out and waits for you to stand still to strip you.

“You’ll see.” She’s grinning like a cat, and you’re suddenly terrified.

It turns out to be the garden that Nat wants to take you to.

Fresh air is just what you need, and you find that your stomach settles completely once you’re out in the open space.

“This was a good idea.” You smile, feeling at ease and better than you’ve felt since you got back.

Of course, his Majesty is always on your mind. He’s the whole reason you’ve come back.

He’s the last piece of your puzzle. The reason you don’t sleep soundly.

And yet, he’s your husband. How can someone that’s already yours drive you this mad?

“I’m glad you think so.” Nat smiles beside you, her arm wrapped around yours as she leads you down the familiar path.

The gardens are alive with the end of the season. Dragonflies glisten with pearlescent wings, birds and bees fill the air, whizzing by in the comforting breeze. The sun pimples your skin as you soak it up and your hand subconsciously moves over your still normal tummy, excited to give your baby healthy sunshine.

The air is fragrant. The endless flowers, which you now notice have been left to grow wild, paint the garden in vibrant colors.

He listened. You can’t help but think. Because you’d told his Majesty that your only criticism with the beautiful space is that everything was too well kept. Too structured.

Now the gardens have begun to resemble the wildflowers you’d napped in on rolling green hills back in Malibia.

This garden…most of it anyway, makes you feel like you’re home.

You make to turn to the left, away from Margaret’s pavilion which his Majesty had banned you from using—the only spot in this lovely place that makes you feel like an intruder still…unwelcome—but Nat pulls you to a stop and turns towards the right.

“Let’s go this way. We never go this way.” She insists, forcing her manipulation to sound like genuine pleading. You can see right through her though.

“Because there isn’t anything over there, except a place that I’m not allowed to go.” You sigh and move once more towards the left, pulling your arm from Nat's when she doesn’t move.

You get three steps before there’s a deep sigh. “Wait!”

Stopping, you turn to look at the wily Goddess and she rolls her eyes, reaching into her dress pocket to pull out a thick piece of parchment.

“What’s that?” You wonder, suddenly nervous because you know very well what it is.

“I wanted to see your face when you see it, but I suppose I should just do it his way. Here.” She offers the parchment to you looking disappointed.

“His way?” You repeat, confuse and moving back towards her.

Taking the folded piece, you open it up and stare down at his Majesty's familiar hand.

My Darling,

He begins, and your heart beats crazy.

I understand why you cannot see me. Rather, why you won’t see me. I have done nothing but make you feel as if you do not belong here. Such is my crime.

You frown, hating the reminder.

I didn’t know what you would come to mean to me. How could I when you came out of nowhere and struck me down like a bolt of lightning? I want you to know that I wholeheartedly regret the things I said…and did. You didn’t deserve them. I was a fool. I wish I could take them back. All of them.

Especially our wedding night. My heart is raw knowing that I hurt you that way. I love you. I can’t believe I…

From this day forth, I will do everything in my power to make sure that you know just how much you mean to me.

You’re chewing your lip furiously, anxious and somehow grateful for the words he’s written but only time will tell how well he can keep that promise.

This is your home, sweetheart. You’re my one and only from now until our dying day. Forgive me for making you feel as if you had to compete with someone else.

The funny thing is, you can see the intent behind his words even though he only half means them.

You can tell that he means them in the sense that you are his future. He loves you as his current wife. The woman who will be the mother of his children though, he doesn’t know that yet.

In that sense, he means it, but he also meant every word about Margaret. He loved her to death and when she died, he fell apart. He ceased to function.

She had a part of him that you can never touch. Not in the same way and you feel slightly sad that he feels he must bury that down to make you happy.

He should make you happy just as you want to make him happy, but that doesn’t mean you like the way he’s going about it. You’d much rather he be open with you, no matter how painful hearing about Margaret might be.

Maybe so long as he doesn’t compare you, then you’ll be okay?

I hope this small gesture will prove to you that I mean what I say. I’ve instructed Nat to take you.

You’ve been walking down the pathway towards the opening with the pavilion and suddenly it springs out of the greenery.

You gasp, completely thrown by the fact that Margaret’s red daisies are gone and in their place are what must be hundreds and hundreds of pale pink and peach peonies.

They rustle in the breeze, wafting sweet fragrance towards you threatening to knock you off your feet with how much you want to swoon.

With shallow breath, a gasp of air you hadn’t realized you’d been depriving yourself of, you look back down at the letter.

For the one that I crushed. I am the biggest moron in the twelve Kingdoms.

I love you, Y/N. Believe me or not, it does not change the fact that it’s true. Never forget that I am waiting.

I will wait forever if I must, patiently. Longingly. Desperately waiting for you to love me and this time I will gladly let you.

Yours forever,

His Majesty King Steve G. Rogers

You don’t know what to do. You want to cry because you’re so happy, but you also want to laugh because this letter is everything you’ve wanted him to tell you. You’re angry because it isn’t in person, but you have only yourself to blame for that.

You begged him to stay away and you do still want him to keep his distance. But you wish you could look into his eyes and see if he means these things he’s writing.

“Y/N?” Nat checks, peeking around a small hedge. “You okay?”

You turn to her and nod, smiling lightly as tears glisten between your lashes but do not fall.

“I…Why couldn’t he be like this from the start?” You sigh, looking down at your letter and then looking up at the peonies standing in pleasing contrast against the dark stone of the little build.

Nat sighs. “I think he wanted to.”

You look at her, not believing her one bit. “But…”

“I think that’s exactly what made him mean. Steve has always been one for commitment. For duty and honor and marrying you was not exactly his choice. I’m not saying that he isn’t glad he did it, but the council pushed him to marry quickly. Before he was ready to let go of Maggie.

“I don’t think he was expecting to like you as much as he did. To love you. Truly love you and also still love her. They made promises to each other when they thought that they had forever and then forever was gone. But he still made those promises and ever a man of his word, he tried to keep himself from giving in to you.” Nat smiles at you, reaching over to rub your back.

“So, what you’re saying is that he was purposefully cruel because he was in love with me and didn’t want to be?” You repeat for her.

Nat’s smile turns apologetic and you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I don’t know if I can forgive him, Nat. I have had no experience in love. I was a virgin when we married. I…Thor was my first kiss. My first real one that wasn’t taken by force.” Some of the men of your village were disgusting and only a knife to the throat could deter them. “It should have been Steve. His hands should have been soft and gentle. Instead, he held me down and…”

“He knows that you need time.” Nat assures you. “But do you think you can forgive him eventually? Enough to be with him? To be his wife again?”

You lapse into silence, staring at the romantic gesture before you and notice inside the gazebo a small table has been set up with teas, biscuits, and jams.

Your heart swells, fluttering in your chest as you huff a small breath of delight.

Now that you’ve been outside for a while, you realize how hungry you are and your stomach growls loudly.

“Is he trying to overfeed me?” Your heart grows wary. “He doesn’t know, does he?”

You turn to Nat who shakes her head. “Of course not. No one but Grandmother and I know and we’re not telling anyone until you’re ready. But Y/N, you can’t keep this to yourself for long. The council will usurp Steve if he doesn’t produce an heir. You have just under five months left to announce your pregnancy and have a doctor examine you to ascertain the validity of your pregnancy.”

“I know.” You move towards the pavilion, taking in the tall steeple roof that you just now realize ends in a point made of glass. It gives view to the sky. “I just didn’t want him to love me for the baby.”

“He’s already in love with you.” Nat promises. “Baby or not. He wants you.”

“Will he be happy?” You wonder. “Truly happy? Will he regret that it isn’t with Maggie that he’s building a family? Will he love my baby as much as he would have loved hers?”

Your mouth runs on, asking the questions only your heart knows. Afraid of being second to a memory. Afraid to hear him say those words again, “Maggie wouldn’t-Maggie would-Maggie did-Maggie, Maggie, Maggie”.

“Y/N…” Nat begins.

“It’s stupid to be jealous of her. I know that.” You sit in the small padded seat and reach over to lather jam on a biscuit and take a nice big bite.

No nausea.

“When you’re ready, ask him. And I’m sure he will tell you exactly how he feels about you and your baby. His baby, Y/N.” She reminds you.

You nod. “Our baby.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s just a peek. That’s all Steve wants. Just a quick look.

He knows you came down here because Peter came to tell him.

Peter who has been moping around Steve instead of being with you and Nat as he usually is because you’ve instructed him to stay away too.

He’s right beside him now, walking silently the way the kid does.

His mouth is a different story.

“What did I do? Do you think I offended her Majesty in some way?” Peter asks, gesturing his chest over his pale green tunic. “I understand why she doesn’t want to speak with you or having you around. You were a huge ass to her. But me?”

Steve turns to glare at him, frowning as he turns back towards the smaller hidden pathway that leads to your pavilion.

“What? I didn’t do anything to make her angry.” Peter reiterates.

“No.” Steve sighs. “She might just need some space. Talk about women’s problems with Nat.”

Or tell her about things that you’d done with Thor that you didn’t want to say around Peter?

Even though Thor had assured him that he hadn’t lain with you, Steve wonders.

“You’re sure she never asked about him?” Steve questions your guard and Peter frowns at him this time.

“Why do you keep asking me?”

“I just want to be sure.” He explains. “They spent a lot of time together.”

“Your Majesty, Steve…if she wasn’t in love with you, she wouldn’t be pushing you away right now. She has to really care about you to be pissed enough to give you the cold shoulder. If she were talking to you like normal, then I think you’d have reason to worry.

“If she stops getting angry, then it means she doesn’t care.” Peter nods. “She never asked about Thor. Not to me.”

Steve stares at the kid—at twenty-two he’s not really a kid anymore but to Steve he’ll always be that massively strong little twerp that stole his shield—and realizes that he’s right.

You’re angry. Which means that you still care. Steve smiles and walks on, shifting into a semi-crouch as they get closer to a small opening in the hedge that is hidden behind a well-placed tree.

“Why are we here?” Peter asks, whispering because Steve’s crouching makes everything feel sneaky.

“I just want to see if she likes it.” Steve stops behind the tree, peeking out towards the pavilion.

All of Margaret’s red daisies are one, replaced by large, fragrant, and beautiful peonies in peach and pink shades.

His heart gives a small ache at the absence of the flower he’s associated with Maggie for almost twenty years, but then he sees you, sitting in the pavilion, smiling from ear to ear.

You’re a vision in white. No…more like a cream, with a pale green ribbon around your waist. The ruffles on your neckline accentuate your breasts and Steve’s heart gives a small ache. He wants to have you in his arms again.

Beneath him, beside him, inside you as one but properly this time. Showing you just how much he should have been worshipping your precious body from day one.

You laugh lightly, chuckling at something Nat has said then reach out to grab a biscuit and smear some jam on it.

You take a bite and the sticky pulp smears against your pretty lips.

Steve swallows hard, then his mouth falls open as he gapes at you while you lick your lips clean. Had your mouth always been so tempting?

He’d been fighting himself so hard that he had never given himself a chance to really look at you and appreciate the small details of your body. Now it’s all he sees. The way your hands elegantly curl around a tart. The gentle way you throw your head back and laugh as Nat serves your tea.

He grins when you slouch and then as if you’re remembering you shouldn’t be slouching, you suddenly sit up straight and he can see you chastising yourself silently for the slip.

He’d give anything to move to you and rub your back, assure you that you can slouch and lay back if you want to. Convention is only for when the public can see you. At least in these instances. Tiny things like this…you should be comfortable in your home.

Suddenly, he realizes that you are. Forgetting to sit up straight, laughing in the pavilion, surrounded by the flower and its fragrance that has permanently seeped into your skin and hair. You are completely at ease in this spot and he feels a pain in his gut that moves up along his ribs and into his chest carving out splinters because this should have always been yours.

He made you feel unwelcome…how can he ever make it up to you?

“Steve…?” Peter whispers, and Steve’s head inches to turn to him but when he doesn’t Steve takes the nod as assent to continue. “Do you really love her?”

For a moment, Steve can only stare at you and ask himself that same question. You lay your elbow on the back of the bench and lean your head into your hand as you take a bite once more, staring at Nat as she animatedly recounts some tale.

Your hair falls around your face, the small smile that stretches your lips is angelic. Perfection. Why did he have to wake up to your true charms so late? Why couldn’t he have given in sooner?

“I do.” He confesses.

“Because if you don’t—and you’re just using her so that you can get your heir and keep your crown-” Peter begins.

Steve rounds to look at him so quickly that Peter takes a step back, hands twitching at his side, ready to web his way out of the garden if Steve tries anything.

“There was only one time that I used her. One time. And it was to save Morgana from marrying me. I think I’ve loved Y/N from the moment I saw her standing in my throne room…in that blue dress…looking excited and terrified. And heartbroken when I told her that she could never make me happy.” Steve sighs. “Now she’s the only one who can.”

He looks at you but you’re rising, eyes brimming with recognition and excitement.

Although he can’t hear you, he sees you open your mouth in an exclamation of delight. Calling to someone out of sight.

You raise your skirts and hurry down the steps of the pavilion and hurry towards the hedge path.

Lumbering out of it comes Thor, blonde hair flowing behind him as he rushes to meet you.

The two of you collide and he can hear Thor’s laugh, booming around the space and filling it with his deep chortle. He can’t hear yours, but he can see it in your face as Thor lifts you and turns you around slowly.

Without hesitation, he leans in and kisses your lips. A quick peck that might be in friendship but the both of you shut your eyes and Steve must look away as his chest is cracked open. He wraps his hand around the backside of the tree he’s hiding behind, fingers crumbling away at the bark as he curls his hand around it in a fist.

He tears his eyes back up to the two of you, forcing himself to watch.

All that affection…over a month…

“What did I do?” Steve wonders, trying to see it all through new eyes how he pushed you and neglected you and refused to give you love.

Thor’s got his hands on either side of your waist and he’s looking down at you as if he’s examining your body and Steve hates him again. And himself. Mostly himself.

Thor steps aside and from the path comes a smaller body, thinner, long straight brown hair flying behind her as she races to embrace you.

Morgana.

Tony and Pepper follow a few steps behind but stand back to allow you and your sister to reunite.

“Steve?” Peter checks with worry in his voice. “You okay?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Your Majesty?”

“No.” Steve admits. “I’m not. I have work to do.”

Without another word, Steve pushes past him and heads back up to the castle to finish what he’d started in his office.

If he’s going to win you back, he’s going to have to really try.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re at a loss for words, arms clinging to the teen girl because her own hug is so very tight.

With wide eyes you look up at Tony and Pepper who stand there smiling at you fondly.

You can’t say what you’d like because Thor is here so instead you carefully tuck Morgana’s brown hair behind her ear and coax her head up to look at you.

“Mara…” You coo, happy to meet your sister at last. “I’m so glad you’re finally home.”

“I’ve been home.” She says, half laughing and it’s only now that you realize how distinguished she sounds. How much of a princess she really and truly is as opposed to you… “On the way here, I was telling Thor that I’d only seen you a few times a year so when you offered to take my place as King Rogers’s bride, I was so full of love and gratitude. I can never explain the complexities of how I feel to finally have you in my life once again. Thank you.”

She’s letting it all out, spilling everything in so few words. Telling you that she’s grateful that father found you and that you agreed to marry his Majesty. She’s telling you that she accepts you as her sister and that she understands that where you come from is a secret and she is going to do everything in her power to keep it for you.

You smile at her, hoping it’s with fondness that you do so.

“Tell me everything.” She suddenly gushes, and then slides to stand beside you. “Can I stay with you for a few weeks? Will Steve mind?”

Even Morgana calls him by his first name?

You nod. “You can stay. I’m sure he won’t mind. You’re my precious sister. I dare him to try.”

Morgana laughs, wrapping her arm around yours and leading you back up to the pavilion where Pepper, Tony, and Nat follow.

The next few weeks are full of time spent with your family.

Every day you wake up and have breakfast with Morgana, Thor, or Tony and Pepper until they finally have to leave to deal with kingdom business. Morgana stays. So does Thor. And because you’re not ready for anyone to know about the baby yet, you have to make even more adjustments to your day-to-day life.

Before the castle wakes, Grandmother comes to see you. Often, you’re already up, spewing your dinner into its designated basin. Nat isn’t around this early so it’s up to you to take care of yourself.

Grandmother checks your body, measures your stomach which steadily begins to curve outwards. After a month, your bump is finally large enough to notice, but only when you stand naked or when someone comes to feel it.

Nat does this every day and she has to look for it to feel the hard, little pebble that seems to be growing in your belly.

You’re so happy and it’s dimmed by only one thing.

After lunch you take your reading and writing lessons, and as he always does, his Majesty waits to cross into his council chambers as you exit the large library.

He stops, his eyes devouring the sight of you.

Every time he does it, your cheeks burn, and your neck overheats. Every day he looks bit more tortured.

Finally, after the third week of not speaking with him, he sends word with Nat.

“Another one?” You ask, looking across your room at the vases of flowers that he’s sent. There are gifts still unopened on one of your tables by the window.

They’re lovely, and you are grateful, but you’re starting to think that he may be wanting to buy your affections, so you stop opening them and just stare at the slowly growing pile.

“It’s just him telling you that he’ll be walking in the garden if you ever wish to join him. He’s getting desperate.” Nat’s lips curve into a satisfied half smile.

“Why is that funny?” You wonder, staring at the letter before moving over to your window to try and get a good look at the garden but from this side you can’t see much.

“No one has ever made him work this hard.” She tells you. “With Maggie everything was just decided. They were together one day then they were getting married. It all just fell into place.”

You sigh. “I wanted it to be that easy for us.”

“I know. But I’m glad it isn’t. I think it’ll make you both stronger in the end.” She nods.

With a sigh you turn to look at her, watching her fill your bath.

“What about you?” You demand.

“What about me?” She widens her green eyes, shaking her head as she measures your oils.

“When are you going to stop torturing Bucky and marry him?” You bite.

“Oh, no. Not you too.” Nat gripes.

“You know what? I think that’s a valid question.” A deep voice offers.

In your doorway, Bucky stands with his arms crossed over his chest.

“When are you going to marry me? I can’t keep waiting for you, my scarlet rose. I’m an eligible bachelor. I have many women who would love to be Lady Barnes.” He boasts.

“Oh, is that so?” Nat wonders, eyes narrowed to slits. “Well, then I guess you don’t need me then.”

She shrugs.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, your Majesty. I’m going to go fetch you some more hot water.” She turns and moves past Bucky, nudging him with her shoulder as she passes.

Bucky is speechless, staring at you with confusion as to how his gentle teasing went so wrong.

“What-?”

“You’re really going to just let her walk out after that?” You offer.

“Shit.” Bucky gasps, then sprints from the room after Nat. “Natasha!”

You peek out at the garden again, and this time you can see his Majesty’s wide shoulders and golden head as he waves slowly through the hedge maze in the distance, hands behind his back in contemplation.

Suddenly he looks towards your room and he stops to stare, the two of you sharing in this moment of utter pining.

Will you and he ever be as close as Nat and Bucky?

You rub your tummy and bite your lip.

How long will he wait?

~~~~~~~~~~

“Steve?” The blonde woman calls, and rounds the gate, eyes searching for him.

Steve?! She calls him, ‘Steve’?!

You stare at him, this new revelation painful.

His mouth opens and shuts as he finally sees past his own happiness to see the discomfort in your eyes.

“Oh.” The blonde says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that you—You must be Y/N.”

You know damn well that she should be calling you by your title, so your heart grows a little colder and you carefully yank your hand out of his Majesty’s grip.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you.” She hurries to his Majesty’s side and curtsies before wrapping her arm around his elbow as his own brow furrows as you inch away.

“The pleasure is all mine, Lady…?” You wait for his Majesty to speak. He should be the one to introduce the two of you.

She gives his arm a squeeze.

“What?” He looks at her and realizes what’s happening. “Oh, right. Forgive me. This is Lady Sharon Carter.”

Then he hesitates.

You fix your eyes on him, wondering what the uncertainty is for.

“Sharon…” He looks at the blond whose angelic smile is soft and controlled but real and her hand is still around his elbow! She’s a true lady. Like Morgana, so put together and controlled. A golden swan before a dulled brown pigeon. “Sharon is Margaret’s cousin. We grew up together.”

Seriously? Another Carter? This is just perfect.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You tell her, speaking quickly. “If you’ll excuse me, Lady Sharon, but I don’t feel well.”

You turn and leave them, storm cloud skirts swishing along your ankles.

You’re inside when you hear the hurried steps that then break into a run before that same heated hand is around your wrist again.

“Wait, Y/N…don’t go.” His Majesty pleads.

As you turn to pull your hand free, his Majesty tightens his grip and so it pulls you closer to him so that you’re standing inches away.

“Release me.” You speak sternly.

“Why are you upset? Did I say something?” He suddenly looks deep in thought, replaying the past ten minutes in his head.

“Your Majesty, please, release me.” You beg.

“Your Maj-? Steve, please Y/N. Call me Steve.” He doesn’t release you. “Why are you trying to leave? You came down finally. Does this mean you’re ready to speak to me?”

And he sounds like he’s finally been put out of his misery. He’s so happy that your heart aches because you made him miserable this past month and you hadn’t anticipated that. You’d only wanted a break from everything he’d brought you. Pain. Humiliation. Neglect.

You hadn’t meant to hurt him in the process.

Once more you attempt to pull yourself free, but he suddenly throws his arm around your waist and pulls you flush against his chest.

“Why are you trying to leave me?” He asks, bringing his voice down low and quiet so that you and he are the only two in the hallway, the castle, the world.

“Did you get tired of waiting for me? Did you need company?” You ask of him, wondering if he’ll pick up on the jealousy you’re feeling. The sting of it is unbearable.

Being jealous of Maggie had been one thing. She’s gone. That blonde…Sharon…she’s right there. Clinging to his arm.

He sighs, a small smile tugging at his lips. The heat of his breath warms your lips and your body melts without your permission. He quickly compensates for the lack of resistance and cradles you closer to his body.

“Oh, sweetheart, no.” He smiles a little more, this time it reaches his eyes and they’re so dazzling in their sparkling blue that you nearly forget that you’re upset about the blonde woman with her arms on your husband. “Sharon arrive late last night. She heard that I was in the garden and came to look for me. I wasn’t expecting her.”

He licks his lips, dipping down to wrap his arms, both of them, around your waist better. He stands up straight pulling you along with him so that you’re standing on your toes a bit to compensate for the difference in height.

“I’ve only been waiting for you, pigeon.” He assures you.

Your heart flutters, stomach tumbles, as he scrunches up his nose.

“I’m not sold on the pigeon name.” He suddenly says.

“What?” You gasp, so breathless that it makes him smile a little wider.

“You are not a pigeon.” He explains. “And I’d hate to jinx us and call you a bird only to have you run off on me again.”

“I won’t-”

“I’d rather not risk it.” He sighs and begins to rock his body from side to side, taking yours with it.

“Your Maj-”

“How about pearl? Can you be my pearl?” He shakes his head. “No. You’re full of beauty and elegance. A true Queen. Noble. Royalty. A diamond? Maybe you’re my gem?”

His words sting because they’re all wrong. You’re not a true queen or noble or even remotely royal. You’d be lucky to be on the same level as a pearl. You’re definitely not a gem.

You don’t know what makes you do it. Maybe it’s because you’ve been in such pristine specimens of the upper-class lady in Morgana’s and Nat’s company? And with Sharon here too?

You’re nothing like these women. You’re nothing. No one. A peasant. A commoner.

“I’m not.” You tell him.

“If you don’t like being my gem, we can pick something else.” He says, not understanding.

“I’m no one, your Majesty.” You continue.

“Steve.” He chastises.

“I’m a peasant. Truly.”

He stops rocking.

“Father…King Anthony found me on the side of the road, helping an old woman fetch her purse from a bog. I’m an orphan. I come from nothing and no one. I’m not his true daughter. He wanted to save his daughter and you, and he begged me to do this for him and I agreed…I’m of no consequence.” Your lip trembles, threatening sorrow as you realize that you’ve told him your last secret.

The only one that matters.

He’ll kick you out. You’ll have to go back to Malibia a failure.

“I’m no one.” You repeat.

His face serious, stern, and those blue eyes boring into your own, his arms tighten.

“You’re a Rogers.” He tells you, so certain that your heart skips a beat. “You’re my wife. My Queen. And you’re my flower.”

He smiles slowly, happy at last with his term of endearment.

“And tomorrow, I’ll throw you the wedding feast that you deserved. I’m going to dance with you and make sure everyone knows that you’re mine. Especially Thor.”

You huff a laugh. Your heart soars.

He leans in towards you, licking his lips as he does.

You shut your eyes.

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice floats down from behind him.

His Majesty breathes in sharply, angrily, frustrated, but turns to look at Bucky while gently placing you back on the ground.

“I’ll be right there.” His Majesty assures him, apparently exchanging words with a mere glance, then turns back to you.

“You have nothing to worry about with Sharon.” He promises, caressing the side of your head. “We’ll continue this soon?”

He’s genuinely asking you for your permission and you nod, so stunned at the sudden shift that your mind is reeling.

He leans down to kiss your cheek.

“I will send for you, Lady Rogers.” He smirks, then leaves you to stare after him and Bucky, your legs numb.

[insane-control-room]

The Linework

Chapter Two, Segment Three

previous - next

Spasm

Masterpost

“Sorry to interrupt you two lovebirds,” Sammy’s smooth voice had sent Joey launching to the ceiling via the powerful tool known as ‘surprise’. Sammy ignored his mortified expression, turning to address the more dignified Henry instead. “But we need you downstairs to check the music for the new episode. Allison keeps complaining about one thing and Susie about another. Basically we need you two to either agree with or veto them.” 

“Mhm,” Henry got up, picking Boris (who had been oblivious to his parent’s romantic actions) from the floor, tucking him with total ease under his arm and heading down to the music department with Sammy. He turned around, smirking back at Joey, who stared at them, doe eyed and sweet. “Coming?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I am,” Johan nodded, shaking his head to clear it from the yelling that was reverberating in his mind. He tripped over his own feet, Henry snorting and shaking his head as he continued on with Sammy. Johan glanced at the space they once were, and sank into Henry’s chair, breathing hard and heavy. He looked at his hands. One, two, three, four, and five. Same on the other hand. Same on the other hand. Right? Breathe, damnit! You are not under water! You are on land, man, open your eyes and see it right before you! And yet, still, he could not quell the pounding in his chest. His legs felt both like silky soft jelly and quick stabbing pins and needles all at once. What was happening to him? Nothing. Nothing. Everything was fine. So… why did it feel all wrong? He was supposed to do something right now, what was it? His whole body felt numb, twitchy, off kilter. There was only one word to describe how he felt, and his dry, heavy mouth managed to form it. “What?”

He had experienced this before; but before, his mind had matched the state of his body, and in his swapped, uneven, incorrect form, temporally misaligned, his mind was quickly reaching a similar reaction.

Panic can be a lot of things. Such a word is simultaneously a verb, adjective, and noun. And right then, all at once, Joey was all three definitions, yet his mind had not caught up to it yet, though it could be described easily enough to an onlooker (like you).

His body was panicking (the verb), his chest heaved in quick panicked (the adjective) breaths, and his mind was acutely aware of said panic (the noun) overtaking him.

Joey could not see two feet in front of him. Was there anything to see, even? He felt, rather suddenly, light headed, like… like… as though he had lost too much blood.

With a gasp, his head fell back, and he was falling, falling, falling….

He returned to himself with a gasp, gripping the seat of Henry’s chair so tightly his knuckles showed the white of bone beneath nightly dark skin.

Breathing felt like honey on the back of his throat; sticky, sweet, however with that crystalline unscratchable itch on the back of the throat. How long had he been sitting there, in a half present, half reality torn state? As he groggily returned to his senses, he became uncomfortably aware of the fact that it was not only the air that stung like the bees’ produce, but his skin felt clammy, sticky, and his limbs were difficult to maneuver. 

God damnit. 

Damn damnit goddamnit.

Now that the wave of panic had subsided, he was forced to deal with the wreckage, and how he loathed it. He was late downstairs, right? To the music department. He got up on painful jelly legs, feeling like an old hag back in his hometown who had gotten mad at him for going into the library (and exiting unscathed) had jammed her knitting needles straight through his femurs. Both of them. At once. With about forty needles. Sure, at the time it had happened, one seemed more than enough, thank you, but right then, as he stood, with no needles in his legs (he checked) the pure agony of that simple motion shot nausea roiling through his gut. 

He slipped on Boris’ crayons, and yelped as he pitched down into the staircase.

He closed his eyes tight as he waited for his head to bash against some painful and rough surface, but that never happened, instead a rush exiting his lungs as he was caught in soft, muscular arms. 

Joey peeked an eye open, and saw Henry looking at him; with some fondness, some concern, and a bit of teasing. Okay, a lot of concern, now that he could get a proper look at him.

“You don’t look so good, Johan,” he told him, even as he carried him, koala style, down the stairs. Johan only grumbled something, he thinks he mentioned a headache, pressing his forehead against Henry’s shoulder. “Something wrong, sweetheart?”

“N-no,” Johan mumbled, feeling light and airy. There was a fog misting his mind again already. “Just jittery, is all it is. I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Henry questioned, sounding even more concerned. “You started acting strange as soon as, well, as soon as Sammy interrupted us.”

Inky hands reaching, persecuting, angry and dead.

“Joey?”

“Huh?”

“Stay with me.” Henry’s voice had a tone of commandment. He heard someone ask a question, Henry answering. What a weird answer. “He’s fine, just overworked himself as usual.”

Johan tried to lift his head. 

“Mnah,” were the sounds that came out of his mouth. His mouth… he should kiss Henry, right? Yes, that seemed like the right thing. He looked up with glazed eyes to the doctor. The doctor looked so worried. He should kiss the worry away. He pulled himself up slightly, and pressed his lips to Henry’s, a little whisper on his lips. “Love you, Ray. M’sunshine.”

“Johan, snap out of it,” Henry’s hands were warm and solid on his cheeks. He wanted to ask him what he meant. “Joey, can you say where you are?”

“Sure I can, with you,” he easily answered. “In… in… in….”

Where was he?

“The studio, Joey,” Henry’s gorgeous earthlike orbs glinted with compassion and concern as they roamed over his face. “The studio, our studio. Remember?”

He nodded. Yes. He did. And that opened the floodgates of his mind, and his eyes widened as his memory took its course and did its job of remembering. 

“Music department,” Joey whispered, and turned bright red. “Oh, no, I’m so sorry, Henry, I, I didn’t mean ta embarrass you like that, how can I make it up f-for you?”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Henry rocked him in his arms. The three kids that were there looked up at them, then decided that the musicians were more interesting than one of their fathers putting the other to sleep, though Alice did let out a dreamy sigh. “You don’t need to do anything. I think a big of good ol’ PDA would help you a lot, especially with that PTSD of yours.”

Joey felt his nose wrinkle.

“You and your acronyms,” he snorted, not quite contemptuously, but close enough to get the point across. “And I hardly know english, and it makes it all the worse.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing the extent of your spanish lexicon,” Henry smirked, watching Johan practically shrink into himself. “I think there would be some interesting words locked away in that pretty head of yours.”

“Explain what you said first,” Joey demanded.

“I mean that you freak out over a lot of things,” Henry sighs. “And then, you completely shutdown. That’s normal behavior for someone who went through what you did.”

He was not wrong, Joey gulped.

“I’m fine.” He muttered, turning away. Henry turned him to face back, glaring, but with love. “Like hell you are.”

Johan blinked, and then pouted.

“I think that loosening up would help you a lot.” Henry informed him. “More spark, less routine.”

“I like order, Henry,” Johan shuddered as he recalled a world without order, ones and zeros strewn about haplessly, without any true form, no meaning behind any of them. “I need it.”

“You’ve grown dependent on it,” Henry corrects him with a small, sad smile. “Too dependent. You said it just now. You need it. It’s… it’s the opposite of Numerica, isn't it? Truly chaos disguised by order. Numerica was order disguised by chaos. You need to let go, Joey. You hold too tight to the moment. You need to let go, to go with the flow, to overcome each hurdle as it comes. Chaos is a part of our world. You need to let it in, sometimes.”

Joey does not even bother arguing.

Henry is right, he knows it, and Henry knows that he knows.

So he lets the music of their little orchestra sweep over him, and tries to lose himself in the contours of the melody, tries to soak up the unexpectedness and nuance of simply sound from instruments, hoping that his body could keep up.