#she got the first sunny warm day of the year on tuesday and i can be happy for that i guess

[ragazza-paradiso]

watching your pet slowly dying is the worst most heartbreaking thing on this planet

[rows-of-lilacs]

San Juan, Puerto Rico

[Written 2.13.23; transferred from our old blog]

¡Hola! It’s been below zero in Minnesota lately, so it was the perfect time of year to visit beautiful, sunny, warm Puerto Rico. We took a direct flight from MSP into SJU and spent a long weekend (Thursday through Tuesday) exploring San Juan. It was a fantastic getaway, and we are so excited to share the highlights with you!

We rented a casita through Airbnb that was small but perfect for the two of us. Our host, Sylvette, truly went above and beyond! Weeks before we arrived, she had asked what types of things we enjoy and sent a customized itinerary for us to consider. When we got there, she kindly drove us to some of her favorite spots to help us get acquainted with the area. Sylvette was so warm and kind, and we quickly discovered that would be a common theme of the people we met on the island.

La gente (the people)

This is a generalization that of course does not apply to every single person, but virtually everyone we spoke to in Puerto Rico was welcoming and friendly. We frequently ended up chatting with strangers who would ask about our visit and share something special about the island with us. For example, February 2 is Día de la Candelaria. While we were walking on the beach that day, we came across a trio who were lighting incense and blowing into a beautiful conch shell to honor the holiday. As we walked past, they greeted us and invited us to join them. They told us about the holiday and the special ways their family has celebrated it for decades. They also helped us find our way, as we were a little lost!

Another thing we noticed is that people were patient and friendly when we spoke Spanish with them. Neither of us is a fluent speaker, but folks would hold conversations with us and openly switch to English once we’d shyly announce that we didn’t know the next word or phrase we needed. We’ve been to other countries where native speakers aren’t quite as patient with non-natives, so we were especially grateful for the chance to practice our Spanish. I’m proud to say I can now order an iced vanilla latte with oat milk, no problem!

Los animales (the animals)

We were just as taken with the animals as we were the people. (Actually, we were probably more excited about the animals, but if you know us that won’t surprise you at all). The first thing we noticed upon arriving at our neighborhood was CHICKENS! Everywhere. Hens, chicks, and roosters strutting all around the block. Perhaps some of them were pets, but with how many there were wandering around, I would expect that many of them were wild, just like if you saw a flock of crows hanging out by your house. Even when we left our residential neighborhood, we would come across chickens every now and then. It was a delight seeing all the adorable baby chicks following their mothers closely.

We were also pleasantly surprised by how many lizards we saw! Small ones that blended into their surroundings, medium sized ones with striped tails, large iguanas that you couldn’t miss. We saw them everywhere, often noticing them as they scurried away, scared off by our movement. Our favorites were probably the iguanas, and specifically the iguanas who hung out at the local graveyard. We saw these guys multiple times, and we were always struck by how they looked like the guardians of the graves.

Other animals that deserve an honorable mention: the manatees that live in the estuary (that we searched for nearly every day but did not happen to see); the many cats we admired; the rays that we were able to see from a walking bridge; and the colorful parrots we watched fight over a favored spot in a palm tree.

La comida (the food)

Per usual, we spent most of our vacation wandering around (on average, 10 miles per day) seeing what caught our eye. All this walking led to a deep need for some nourishing food. I don’t think we ended up having a single bad meal in PR. In fact, most of the meals were extraordinary. Some of our favorites included tacos y mofongo at Lote 23, the best guacamole of our lives at Xolo, and an incredible meal from Tomate, which was just a short walk from our casita. Sam enjoyed the fresh seafood, and Sarah loved how easy it was to find vegetarian & vegan options. We also enjoyed excellent coffees from coffee shops like 787 Coffee, Café con Cé, and Dulcesalado. There might be a law in PR that prohibits bad coffee, because daaaang these were good.

El arte (the art)

Something else we loved about San Juan were the colorful murals everywhere! On buildings, in shops – these works of art add so much beauty to the city. Here are some of the murals that caught our eye:

La naturaleza (the nature)

While everything we just talked about was wonderful, nothing can top of the beautiful nature of Puerto Rico. The beaches, the mountains, the rain forest: it’s just heavenly. We loved walking up and down the beaches, jumping into the water when we got too hot. We had a wonderful time kayaking around the estuary, checking nonstop for any signs of manatees. And one of the highlights of our trip was an excursion into the rain forest, where we splashed through muddy trails, jumped off cliffs, and slid down a natural water slide. It was so much fun!

Hasta luego (see you later)

Overall, San Juan makes for a perfect winter getaway. Logistic wise, it’s great: it doesn’t require a passport (since it’s a U.S. territory); you can take a direct flight and not have to waste time on layovers; you can use your U.S. data plan and currency; and you will get by easily if you only speak English. In terms of escaping winter, it’s fantastic: it’s warm without being oppressively hot, the ocean temps are perfect, and your body will savor the much needed vitamin D. However, it’s important to note that PR isn’t necessarily a budget destination. We don’t often see flight deals to San Juan, and because it’s an island, things are higher priced. You probably could make it work on a smaller budget, but you could definitely stretch your buck further somewhere else. All in all, we have cero arrepentimientos (zero regrets) about this trip, and if you decide to go to, we’re certain you’ll have a maravilloso (marvelous) time.

As for our next adventure? Only time will tell. Stay warm, friends. -Sam & Sarah

Full blog post can be found here: https://newplacelikehome.wordpress.com/2023/02/13/san-juan-puerto-rico/

[harryissuchalittleshit]

Five Men Who Broke Lily's Heart And One Who Healed It

For training prompt Tuesday, @petalstosarah, I told you I would make it angsty. You can read it below the cut or on Ao3!

1. Michael Evans, 1971

Lily could remember the day her father left like the back of her hand.

It had been sometime in quiet days after Christmas, but before New Year’s. He had stood in the doorway, his suitcase packed, his jacket on, his life with them erased from the walls of their home. She would see him again, just a small handful of times, but it would never be the same. He would never be her father, not like how he had once been before.

Lily would cry for hours and hours and hours after. Christmas would never be the same after that. She would find ways to stay away from home, from her mother and sister during the most festive time of year.

Michael Evans would never return to them. He would never pick Lily up and spin her around in his arms again, he would never kiss Iris again, he would never wink at Petunia and smile as they shared their own private joke again. The thing was, he would never be in their life again, not as he used to be, as he wanted to be, no, the separation would never go away.

He wasn’t breaking just his eleven year old daughter’s heart, he was breaking up a family. He was showing his daughter’s that faithfulness wasn’t a thing. He was showing them that men couldn’t be trusted.

How could they? He wasn’t faithful to their mother, he wasn’t kind to her, he broke the trust they had once created.

He broke the trust his daughters had in him.

Michael Evans was the first man to ever break Lily’s heart, and she would remember that. She would remember him and that cold, cold morning when he left. Lily and Petunia sitting side-by-side at the top of the stairs, their mother, Iris standing at the bottom, trying to protect them even then.

Michael Evans would die a few years later, when Petunia had left the house and Lily was away at school. Iris would get the last laugh, but even then it wouldn’t be kind, it wouldn’t be nice.

Either way, the damage was done.

2. Remus Lupin, 1973

The next one would be Remus Lupin.

He wasn’t a man yet, just a kind sweet boy who was thirteen. He studied with her in the library, they passed notes in Arithmancy as none of their friends were with them. They spent hours and days together, just the pair of them, just having fun and discovering a new friendship.

Until it became too real.

Lily would forever keep the photo of her and Remus, taken a warm and sunny day, the pair of them studying in the library, only looking up at the sound of the shutter clicking. The camera was a gift from her father, old and worn down, but still able to make something beautiful.

She would always have a copy, it would be framed, it would move from home to home with Lily. A document of a friendship that she loved, that she cared about, that ended one horrible day over a discovery made public.

She wasn’t afraid of Remus, no one could be afraid of a boy that tucked in his sweaters, and owned more cardigans than shirts, and who sing ever Beatles song as long as he heard the first few notes. No one could be afraid of a boy whose smiles had to earned and his laughter fought with well timed jokes. No one could be afraid of a boy who slept like the dead and studied as if his life was in danger.

No one was afraid of Remus Lupin, but he wasn’t just Remus Lupin.

It wasn’t the admittance of the truth, it was the lie to cover it up. Lily hated being lied to, it made her feel like she was eleven and crying into her sister’s shoulder as their father left to never return again. Broken trust, from a broken man.

It would take almost a full year for Lily to let her guard down again around him, a year of apologizes and passed notes and studying in the library together. It would take a year of whispered conversations and explanations for everything to go back to how it was.

It would take time for the trust to reform.

3. Sirius Black, 1976

When people hear the name Sirius Black, they think trouble.

They don’t think of a broken boy, of a child thrown out of a broken home. They don’t think of tattoos and motorbikes and leather jackets. The first word is trouble, the second is Marauder, the third is brother.

For Lily, it’s unfaithful.

Lily had known him for five years at this point, she had classes with him, she had been partnered with him more times that she could count, she had held his hand after he received Howler after Howler. She didn’t know what it meant to be a Black, but she did know what it meant to not feel at home in your own childhood home.

She knew what it felt like to not belong.

And with that they bonded, they drank tea and told stories about their siblings and cousins and parents, they shared their life. They were friends because none of their other friends got it, they were friends because they needed someone else to understand.

The pact had been simple. They would write during the summers, swap war stories twice a week of their craziness. They would share what they knew, what they could tell, what the other could understand.

But after a week in, Lily got radio silence.

Another week passed, then another, then another, unanswered and unopened letters littered her desk. Worries went unchecked.

Her worries grew, they went into overdrive, she cried herself to sleep. This boy that she loved, that she cared about, that knew her and the life she lived, was forced into during the summer and holiday visits had abandoned her.

This boy who knew everything, who understood everything…he broke her heart in the most selfish way.

Sirius Black would come back, he would squeeze her hand when Howlers came to him at Hogwarts, he would cry on her shoulder when his brother would die years later, he would walk her down the aisle on her wedding day. But he would also take something from her that summer, that long and hot and cruel summer without the lifeline of someone who understood a bitchy sibling and parents who didn’t know how to love a child different than them.

It would take months for Lily to love him again, but she would fall for his heart break all over again. It would never be his charms and jokes and infectious laughter that earned her heart, it would be his familiar tragedy and the way he helped save her.

4. James Potter, 1977

The first time Lily ever kissed James Potter, it was because he broke her heart.

Years and years and years of mixed feelings, of fights and arguments that never seemed to blow over, of day dreams and pining looks and lingers touches. It had been stupid, all of it had been stupid.

Love was stupid.

It was overrated, irrational, and life ending. And yet she fell.

She fell because despite all of the fights, all of the day dreams, all of his smiles and rushed words and his stupid, stupid ticks, she had always loved him. He had the rights to her heart when they met at eleven on the Hogwarts Express. She, going away from everything she knew at top speed, and he, surging forward towards everything he wanted.

She had always been a sucker for kind eyes and a nice smile. She just didn’t realize it until it was much too late.

Until her heart ached whenever he was near, until her head grew dizzy when their arms brushed, until she looked at him and saw everything she could ever want. This was a boy, no man, that you did fall in love with at first sight. That you let kiss you in the rain on a cold November night. That you cried over in bed because you couldn’t sleep at night.

James Potter was a man that love touched and didn’t let go.

It took Lily much longer to realize that she should’ve.

He broke her heart with a kind smile, his hazel eyes bright with laughter, his hair a frizzy halo around his head. He was tall and tan and so beautiful that it hurt to look at him, it hurt to try and smile and pretend that her heart didn’t want him.

James Potter was a man that didn’t deserve rejection.

It would take another month for her to pluck up the courage to tell him. To whisper her love for him on the last warm day of the year. It would take her time for her heart to mend itself, for her brain to forgive the pain in not allowing herself to love him. It would take Lily the rest of her short life to forgive him.

It would only take a moment to kiss him though. She would remember the fire in her veins, the aching in her chest, the fuzziness in her head. She would remember the warmth of his hands, the soft feel of his lips, the small moan that he made when she touched his throat.

She would remember the feeling of her heart knitting itself back together, slowly and carefully, but enough to feel whole again.

5. Peter Pettigrew, 1980

It would be much too late when Lily realized that Peter Pettigrew was the reason for her biggest heartbreak.

It would be long after her son was born, with soft spikey black hair and tan skin and her green eyes. He would be talking and walking and laughing when Lily realized that the tiny little man with sad blue eyes and anger in his heart betrayed her.

Betrayed James, betrayed Harry.

He would cause her death, so young, so prematurely, so unnecessary.

He had made her son be marked as an equal, a baby boy with a toothy grin and bright eyes, a baby boy who smiled and found laughter in everything. A baby boy who called him wo-my and giggled when Peter threw him in the air and always fell asleep in his arms.

Peter had broken her heart when she heard the door blast open, when she heard James fall to the floor, when a man who hated her because of her birth killed her.

But she felt the sadness much earlier. Looking at Peter hurt, not in the way it once had with James, no, it hurt because he was growing smaller, thinner, paler. He was no longer happy, he shied away at smiles and laughter, he grew unfamiliar.

He broke her heart long before the mark appeared on his arm, his greatest shame.

He broke her heart, and somehow, it was like he knew before it all came to an end.

1. Harry Potter, 1981

“Mama loves you.”

Lily stared at her son, his chubby cheeks and dark hair, his tan skin and toothy smile, she stared at her own eyes and tried to find the strength to say something else. Her baby boy was going to die and it was her fault.

“Mama loves you Harry,” she whispered, hoping and wishing that he would know that she never wanted this for him. Her baby boy, her only child, she would never have another, she would never live pass this next moment.

Harry would never know her, never know James, he would never know the love she had for him.

One more man to break her heart.

Go ahead, break my heart. You can break it a thousand times if you so desire. It’s been yours break since the day we met.

She had once stood in front of James and told him that he could end her, break her heart over and over and over again. But even then the words hadn’t been meant for him, they were for Harry, they were for their son.

“Mama has had her heart broken so many times, Harry,” whispered Lily, desperate to get the words out, to let her baby boy know how much she loved him. “But you are the one that I’ll never be angry about, you are the one that I loved most.”

She wished that she could kiss James one last time; that she could hug Remus and tell him how much he meant to her; that she could cry into Sirius’ shoulder and hold his hand; that she could say goodbye to her father once again; that she could be the one to murder Peter.

She wished that her son could grow up loved and safe and protected.

She wished that she could hold him and never let him go, never put him down again.

She wished that the green light wasn’t the same shade as her eyes.

“Mama loves you Harry, forever and ever Heartbreaker.”

[apr1cots]

bookshop babies

MY VERY LATE FIC for the most lovely @orange-peony

idek what happened here but i miss going to bookshops and i miss my boys.

ty to my loves @moonstruckwytch @phoebedelia and @starlitsilvereyes for helping me always and listening to me whine you complete me

ok what gives here we go....

it was a tuesday when harry realized he was in love. he was sitting in a coffee shop he’d never been to before. he could only assume that the wallpaper had been cheery once, but it peeled a bit at the edges, and a tear poorly hidden behind a photograph of john lennon revealed the greying drywall beneath. he was six chapters into some fantasy novel draco had given him the day before when a bookmark fell out from page 217. with a sigh edging too close to overdramatic, he set down the sipping caramel that the barista had chosen for him when he’d asked for something extra sweet, and reached for the floor without looking. consequently, he bumped his temple directly against the corner of the table and swore out loud. 

one side of the neon green bookmark advertised an upcoming book exchange in the east village. the back had a note written in draco’s signature scrawl underlined three times. 

potter, if you spill even a drop of coffee or whatever concoction you force one of those damned baristas to create on a single page of this book i will make absolutely certain that you never read another word again!

harry laughed and then blushed and realized he was done for. 

he took his time walking to the bookshop, relishing in the anonymity of muggle london and staring into the windows of cafes he had yet to visit. the bell above the weathered blue door jingled when harry stepped inside and draco looked up from where he was reading at the counter. he’d just cut his hair, (merlin, harry, muggles have to do this so often i’m in the shop every two weeks, i never knew!) and the sides were shaved close to his head, the top all long and soft and begging harry to run a hand through it. 

their eyes met. draco fought a smile but harry laughed before either of them could say anything. 

“you like this one then?”

“yeah, it’s wicked.”

he didn’t say anything else, instead settling into an armchair in his favorite corner, valiantly trying not to look up from his book to where he knew draco was sitting. a few customers came in and harry used draco’s distraction to watch unnoticed until draco caught his eye as the pretty girl in the sweater ducked her head to dig through her bag.

harry hoped draco couldn't see his blush from across the room and stared intently at the same paragraph for at least three minutes. 

later, when the afternoon sun was just moments away from casting blinding, golden light in through the window near the door, draco asked harry to fetch him a spare copy of the latest gaiman novel from a high shelf. harry summoned it wandlessly without looking. 

“potter! what’s wrong with you?” draco hissed, eyes ablaze with a malice harry hated inciting. 

“draco, relax. we are the only people in here. no one is hiding ‘round the cookbooks, i checked,” harry smirked cheekily, but it didn’t have the desired effect. 

“you are NOT to do magic here, i mean it. i… i really don’t want that to be part of my life here.”

he read between the lines of draco’s pleas and heard the desperation. draco wanted his place here, in this shop, on this street, in muggle london, to be apart. he wanted it to mean something even if it wasn’t what he had always imagined. harry longed to reach out and touch the worry pinching draco’s face.

instead, harry handed him the book. 

“would you like to come ‘round for dinner?”

hermione and ron came as the sun set and after they had eaten, they all sat around the fire. harry watched the easy way that hermione sat on the floor in front of ron’s armchair, leaning into his legs while mouthing the words to the book she was reading. she tucked her hair behind her ears repeatedly as it fell onto the pages filled with tiny print and harry noticed that draco had sat all the way at the other end of the sofa. hermione said ron’s name and he passed her his drink without asking, hand hovering near her head to take it back after just a sip. draco watched the fire when harry caught his eye. 

when they all said goodnight, hermione and ron stepped through the floo, and draco left out the front door just giving harry a little wave. harry went to bed alone. 

a week later, draco sat in the park on a soft blue blanket that he had produced from a wicker basket, clinking the wine glasses against the bottle.

harry joined him, settling a bit awkwardly on the ground, hands full with two oily packets of steaming fish and chips and draco rolled his eyes. 

“you live like a normal person, you can eat like one too,” harry quipped, bumping their shoulders together. it was an unusually warm day for the fall and draco had called harry on his mobile, insisting that they take advantage. harry told him no one else had been available to come, but truthfully, he hadn’t really asked. 

draco wore black trousers and a crisp white shirt under a dark grey sweater that looked so soft it might just melt right off. harry wore jeans and a navy sweater that molly had knit him, the paw prints climbing from his right hip to his left shoulder charmed not to trace wandering paths across his torso. 

the breeze played in the grass and the trees groaned with the anticipation of coming storms, but the sun cut through the clouds, warming harry’s face and tickling the white blond tips of draco’s hair. when harry rested his head by draco’s hip, close, but not touching, he noticed the subtlest of dark grey pinstripes on draco’s trousers. he smelled intoxicating and harry wanted to press his nose into draco’s thigh, but he picked up his book instead. 

“i’m not interesting enough for you, is that it?”

“you’ve been staring at the clouds in silence for at least five minutes. i think you’ll survive. i’ve only got a chapter left. then i’m all yours.”

draco looked at him sharply, then away again. 

three paragraphs later, draco’s hand brushed a curl off of his forehead, then began to play with his hair. 

harry froze. he had to read the word “dichotomy” thirteen times before it registered in his brain. then he sped to finish the page he had been stuck on for far too long in an effort to avoid suspicion. draco was still looking ahead, not at harry, but now his perfect, pale, aristocratic wrist was right there and harry knew that that was where draco sprayed his cologne and he still smelled so absolutely divine that harry couldn’t be expected to function platonically, like a normal human being. he floundered for a moment, knowing that draco would ask him questions about the ending, so he couldn’t very well fake finishing, but deciding that it was too strange to just set down his book moments after defending his right to read. 

before he could come to any sort of conclusion, draco looked down to find harry’s eyes on him and smiled so softly that harry had to sit up. draco's hand fell away then and harry kissed him without a word. 

there, on that pretty blue blanket, on that sunny fall day, harry’s heart pounded harder than it had in the forest on the most fateful of days. and when draco pulled away to blink his long eyelashes right against harry’s neck, harry grinned, not caring who was watching. 

the following tuesday harry carefully avoided familiar cracks in the sidewalk, walking to the bookshop. he’d finished yet another book, though he didn’t really need an excuse to see draco anymore. 

draco was busy at the counter. harry fell back against the door as he closed it, watching without hiding. he moved out of the way when draco was finished, walking behind the counter and hopping up to sit in front of draco. 

“hi.”

“hello.” 

they just stared at one another for a moment, the softest of silences buzzing between them. then draco touched harry’s thigh, still marveling just a bit that he was allowed and they kissed. 

“do you have a new recommendation for me?”

“what?”

“i finished my book.” 

“oh. oh, yes i actually- here,” he pulled out a book he’d placed under the counter and blushed. 

“you set this aside?”

draco shrugged, smiled, and ducked his head. “for you, yes.”

a year later on a saturday in september, draco promised never to run out of recommendations and harry promised to read every single one. harry admitted that the first time he’d entered the bookshop had been an accident and draco laughed and told him he’d known. everyone left with a book in hand and when harry and draco got home they added a new book to the table beside their bed- their story.

[scapegrace74-blog]

Ginger Snap, Chapter 2

A/N I am breaking probably the only rule I gave myself when I started writing fanfic, which was Don’t Ever Post a WIP.  But lord knows I’m not immune to peer pressure and the narcotic that is reader feedback, so here it is, the second chapter of what is now an open-ended modern AU story about Jamie the Chef and Claire the Kitchen Disaster.  Still a first person Claire POV, so I apologize in advance for any stray pronouns.

For the first chapter, I recommend reading it on Ao3, since I’ve made some minor edits since I first posted it on Tumblr.  See above re. not planning on posting a WIP.

Oh, and funny story.  When I decided to check the location of the real Ginger Snap catering company in Edinburgh, it was squished between “FrazersOnline” and “McKenzie Flooring”.  If that’s not kismet, I don’t know what is.  The location I describe below, however, is based on a catering venue here in Ottawa called Urban Element, where I’ve attended a few team-building events.  I have yet to set anything on fire, though.

I checked my phone for the third time, confirming I wasn’t lost.  

Frank and I moved to Edinburgh over the summer, just in time for him to start his position as Associate Professor of History at the University of Edinburgh. Despite our years spent in America, neither of us cared overmuch for driving, so we chose a flat (or rather, Frank chose a flat and I concurred) not far from campus.  Therefore, this was the first time I’d ventured as far afield as Leith, a maritime enclave just to the north of the capital that couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to be grittily working class or artistically hip. 

When I finally reached the address, I had to smile.  No main street pretensions or non-descript commercial frontage for Ginger Snap Catering.  Before me stood a two-story red brick fire station, still emblazoned with the crest of the Scottish Fire and Rescue Services.  The two massive truck bays were now enclosed by see-through doors that could be drawn back on a sunny day.  Through these a warm yellow light could be seen, spilling onto the grey, damp pavement.

A petite woman with dark hair manned the small reception area, a red-haired toddler clinging to her like a marsupial.  She held a phone to one ear while simultaneously pacing the polished concrete floor.  I stood as unobtrusively as possible near the door, but in such an open space it was impossible not to overhear her side of the conversation.

“... they willna take ‘im back until ‘is fever goes down...  aye, an hour ago when I picked him up but it hasn’t... nay, i dinna think it’s... tis jus’ terrible timing with two weddings t’morrow... Could ye?  Och, I owe ye Mrs. Fitz, a million times o’er... Anytime, we’ll be here.  Alright, soon.”

The speaker turned to me, the harried look of a working mother sharpening her already honed features.

“I apologize fer keeping ye waiting.  What can I do fer ye t’day?”

Before I could respond, the young boy, probably no older than two, began to fuss, rubbing his flushed cheek against his mother’s shoulder.

“Och, mo ghille, Mam kens ye’re poorly.  Mrs. Fitz is coming as fast as she may.”

Unable to quell my instinct to diagnose and then cure, I spoke up.  

“I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation.  Based on his age and the way he’s holding his head, it may be an ear infection.”  At the woman’s penetrating look, I hastened to explain: “I’m a doctor.  Would you mind if I took a closer look?”

Permission granted, I carefully palpated the boy under the jaw and peered as best I could without an otoscope into the offending ear canal.  Confident in my diagnosis, I recommended treatment with a warm compress, an over-the-counter analgesic ear drop, and children’s paracetamol to control his fever.  If, after twenty-four hours the symptoms had not improved, they could consider seeing his pediatrician for antibiotics, but these were only truly necessary for a persistent infection.

“Och, ye ‘ave no idea what a relief it is tae hear ye say so, lass.  He’s my first bairn, ye ken, an’ I can ne’er tell if I’m over-reacting or being negligent.   Can ye say thank ye tae the nice doctor, Wee Jamie?”

My stomach jumped.  “Wee Jamie?  Is he related by chance to Jamie Fraser?”

“Aye, tis his nephew.  I’m Jamie’s sister, Jenny.  Ye ken my brother, then?”

The pieces fell into place, and my insides settled.

“We’ve spoken before,” I explained.  “I’m Claire Beauchamp.  You and your brother helped me with a dinner party emergency last Tuesday.  I came to return your market bags, and to thank you again for coming to my aid during my hour of need.”

Jenny and I spoke for another ten minutes, sharing the superficial narratives of two strangers brought together by circumstance.  She was warm and thistly by turns, and I felt a longing for the honesty of female friendship that I’d given up when we left Boston.  Eventually a matronly woman arrived to collect Wee Jamie.  I carefully wrote down the exact names and dosages of my prescribed remedy.

After Mrs. Fitz and Wee Jamie had left, it occurred to me that Jenny needed to get back to work.  I’d accomplished what I’d set out to do, even if I hadn’t thanked Jamie himself.   As I began to make my goodbyes, however, Jenny interjected. “If ye’re no’ in a rush, why dinna ye join our afternoon cooking class?  My brother will be demonstrating how tae make quiche.  Tis the least we can do, after ye helped Wee Jamie.”

Which was how I found myself standing behind one of six cooking stations arranged across the fire station’s main area, a bright red apron covering my black slacks and saffron turtleneck.  My impetuous curls were slowly breaking ranks from where I’d slicked them into a bun that morning.  I worried I looked like a human Pez dispenser.

I glanced at the workstation immediately to my left.  A slight woman who I guessed to be roughly my own age was engrossed in her phone, a cheeky smirk playing on her berried lips.  Her strawberry blond hair was swept into an effortless chignon that made me twitch with envy.  She looked up from her screen and caught me looking her way.

“Geillis Duncan,” she said, offering a well-manicured hand.

“Claire Beauchamp.  Pleased to meet you.”

“Is it yer first time taking a class, Claire?”  At my nod, she leaned in and whispered conspiratorially: “Ye’re in for a treat.”

Before I could enquire what she meant, a murmur amongst the other students (all women, save one) was accompanied by the heavy tread of work boots on polished concrete and a familiar Scottish burr.

“Good afternoon, everyone.  Thank ye fer joining me on this dreich Scottish day.  I ken a few of ye are new, so let’s start with a brief overview of yer stations and some basic safety reminders, before we tackle the quiche.”

Today Jamie was wearing a pair of olive pants that tapered down his endless legs and a technical shirt that clung valiantly to his upper body.  He looked like he’d just stepped off the nearest rock climbing pitch.  I wondered if he owned anything that answered to the name of a professional wardrobe, but I couldn’t deny that he looked impressive, in an athleisure sort of way.

“See what I mean?” Geillis hissed at me as Jamie made his way to the front of the hall, speaking now about optimal burner temperatures.  “That man is a dozen kinds of yes.”

I concentrated on each step of the ostensibly simple recipe.  Pie crust had been the previous week’s assignment, so I had only to blind bake the prepared dough already at my workstation.  Once I had the crust centered exactly in the pie pan, pierced with a fork in orderly rows and placed in the oven, I rushed to catch up with the others.  I’d missed Jamie’s instructions regarding pan frying the bacon, so I increased the flame, thinking I could make up a little time.  The fatty meat crackled pleasingly as I set it in the lightly greased pan.  I was inordinately proud of myself.

Things went very badly, very fast.  First, my eyes wouldn’t stop watering as I meticulously peeled then dissected the onion into near-transparent crescents. Tears obscured my vision and I tried to wipe them away without contaminating my hands.  To my left I could make out Geillis skillfully cracking eggs into a glass bowl, her pie crust already elegantly filled with crispy morsels of bacon and caramelized onion bits.  

A vague sense of having forgotten something important tickled my mind.  My pie crust!  Grabbing a silicone glove (I wasn’t making that mistake twice) I rushed to the wall oven and extracted the pan.  Giddy with relief, I saw the dough was only a little dark around the edges.  

Before I could return victorious to my station, Jamie uttered a Scottish noise of alarm from his vantage at the front of the class.   We both rushed across the room to where my rashers of bacon now resembled blackened shoe laces obscured by a heavy veil of smoke.  With practiced ease, Jamie lifted the entire skillet into the adjacent sink and turned on the cold water.  A cloud of steam enveloped his head, highlighting his auburn curls.  I bit my lip as he looked my way in amusement.

“I hope ye werena planning on serving quiche to yer faculty guests t’night, Ms. Beauchamp?”

I stood meekly next to Geillis for the remainder of the class, no longer trusted around open flame without adult supervision.   She graciously allowed me to extract her quiche when it was done baking.  It looked like a magazine cover.  Meanwhile, my workstation looked like the scene of an industrial accident.

While we were waiting for her quiche to cook, Geillis and I got to know each other a little better.  She was a Highland lass from up near Inverness.  Married to a wealthy older man, her life sounded like an endless quest for diversion.  Despite this, or because of it, she had a sharp-witted frankness that I appreciated.  She was also a hard-core gossip.

“Wee besom,” she remarked with a nod towards a blond girl who was currently monopolizing Jamie’s attention with endless questions punctuated by manufactured giggles and flicks of her pin-straight hair.  “Tha’s Laoghaire Mackenzie of the Mackenzie brewing dynasty.  They’ve a live-in cook, so there’s only one reason she attends these classes, and it isna for the quiche.”

I watched Jamie laugh over something the girl said, mineral eyes alight and his perfect white teeth on display.  I suppose I couldn’t blame her.  I wasn’t here for the quiche either.

The interminable ninety minute lesson finally ended.  I thanked Geillis profusely and we exchanged numbers before she rushed off for her reiki treatment.  Gathering my trench coat and purse, I tried to slink away without calling any further attention to myself.

“Ms. Beauchamp!”

I cursed under my breath, then turned to face him.

“Please, call me Claire.  After I nearly burned down your place of business, we should probably be on a first name basis.”

Jamie chuckled. It sounded more natural and lived-in than his earlier response to Laoghaire, but I was likely fooling myself.

“Och, wha’s a cooking demonstration wi’out a wee bit of drama.  Will ye be joining us next week?  We’ll be making ceviche, sae I willna need tae put the fire brigade on stand-by.”

“Bastard,” I replied to his cheeky smirk.  “Alas, I don’t think I’m cut out to be a cook.  It appears to be the one science I can’t master.”

“Cooking isna a science, Claire,” he explained with sincere intensity.  “Tis an art.  Perhaps tha’s the root of yer struggle.”

“Perhaps it is.  But in that case, I may as well give up now.  I haven’t an artistic bone in my body.”

His languorous perusal of said body lit a different kind of flame in my belly.  Geillis was right; he really was a dozen kinds of yes.

“I canna say as I agree.  Come back any time if ye’d like tae try again.”

I blushed, thoroughly discomfited by his blatant flirting.  He knew about Frank.  He’d fled from him onto my fire escape, for Christ’s sake!  Maybe when you looked like James Fraser, every interaction with a woman was merely a chance to hone your craft.  Or maybe he was truly ignorant of his effect.

“I’ll take that under advisement.  Thank you again, Jamie.”

“Until the next time, Arsonist.”

[miss-owl-eyes]

⋇⋆➶𝘚𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘪➴⋆⋇

⋇⋆➶𝘚𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘢 𝘹 𝘎𝘕 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧➴⋆⋇

❀𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘓𝘪𝘯𝘬❀

❀𝘈𝘖𝘛 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘓𝘪𝘯𝘬❀

══✿══°˖✧✿✧˖°══✿══

Never in a million years would you ever enjoy the cold. It's wet, it's annoying, and it makes driving more of a pain in the ass than it usually was. Winter was never a fun time to go to classes, but since it was your freshmen year of college, you knew you couldn't ditch like you would in high school.

Despite the annoyances of snow, there was one good thing: seeing your crush, Sasha Braus. She always managed to make a day great even if you slipped on ice, hell, if an icicle stabbed you in the eye, she'd probably rush over to help you distract yourself from the pain of it. Sasha was in your economics class, her first sentence to you was "can I borrow your highlighter?" who would've thought such a silly comment would start such a beautiful friendship. It's been about 7 months since the day you two met, but everyday it seemed that the two of you only got closer.

Tuesday morning, most likely at 8:30am, your phone alarm went off from under your pillow. Oh, how you absolutely hated the morning classes you took, if you hadn't paid for these, you probably would've skipped them at least once a week. Never did you enjoy getting up just to learn about numbers and formulas you'll never use in the real world, but at least you got to see your friends.

Rolling over like a dying fish, you sat up and chose an outfit for classes. A black pair of jogging pants, calf-high socks since your lecture hall's air conditioner makes the room colder than Antarctica, a white short sleeve, some boots, and a blue sweater. You looked good in this outfit, not too practical but not too cozy either, very fitting for college. Once you got your stuff all together, you locked the door behind you and left.

The air was cool, the weather in September was the best temperature in your opinion. Your dorm wasn't far from the lecture hall, lucky for you, now you don't have to walk a mile and back to go to a 120 minute class! The heel of your boots tapped against the sidewalk as your keychains clicked against the zipper of your backpack. It didn't take too long to reach the building, and just as expected, the air conditioner made the room ten times more chilly than it needed to be. Once you sat down and rested your cheek on your hand, a light poke on your shoulder came from behind you.

"Hey," the voice whispered playfully. "Hey Sasha," you replied. You were used to her morning antics before the professor came in. She was leaning over her seat to touch your shoulder, one hand holding her chest up and the other retracting back to the desktop. Her smile was gorgeous, it was warm and sunny enough to melt a foot of snow. "Hey Y/N, guess what I brought for us!" She whisper-yelled at you, an excited smile on her lips. You tilted your head in curiosity when she reached into the inside of her jacket.

She pulled her arm out of the jacket once again, holding a small bag of salami. "Sasha, where did you get this?" You asked. "I got it from Connie, he said he didn't want it sooo I took it!" She seemed very happy to have a piece of meat from a friend. "You know, after classes maybe I could come over and share with you?" Was.. was she asking you out? Or was she asking you to hang out? It didn't matter, all you had to do was wait 2 hours until your "date" with Sasha.

Your professor finally finished his never-ending lecture. You hadn't even taken the notes he told all of you to write, you only thought about Sasha. The way her hair flew in the wind, how the sun outlined her smile, it made you blush just thinking about it. "Y/N, come on, let's go to your dorm!" It was almost embarrassing how quickly you got up and packed your things, but she didn't seem to mind. Sasha followed behind you as the both of you made your way out of the lecture hall.

Peering next to you, her stunning amber eyes met yours with curiosity. "How are classes?" She asked cheerfully. Sasha was always the type to strike up a conversation no matter the atmosphere, if it was too quiet, she's talk, simple as that. "They're ok, boring, but okay." She smiled at you and continued to question you, not that you minded. She was always so sweet to you, always ready and willing to have a conversation with you.

After you opened the door to your dorm, Sasha was quickly laying on your bed, making herself comfortable. "Y/N, close the door and come here!" She waves you towards the bed, holding the salami in her hands. You smiled to yourself and locked the door like always. Sasha moved over and patted the spot on the mattress next to her, a silent way of telling you to come by her. You followed her hand and sat next to her.

While you clicked on your phone, Sasha ate the meat Connie gave her earlier. "Y/N, look over here!" You did as told and looked up, a cold and somewhat slimy thing meeting your lip. "Open up," she said, pressing the cold meat against your lips. Hesitantly, you opened your lips and ate the salami, it was actually really good.

Sasha continued feeding you the pieces of salami, neither of you were looking at your phones, just living in the moment. While you were enjoying the food, you didn't realize she was almost completely out of it. She fed you the last few pieces, and once the last one was eaten, she was quick to press her lip against yours. "It's a different taste, yeah?"

She was smiling innocently at you while you were red-faced and frozen. Your crush just kissed you on the lips without a second thought. Her eyes were on you, waiting for an answer. All you did was nod. Sasha giggled and dipped your face, squishing your cheeks slightly. "I like you as much as I like this salami!" You couldn't help but smile at this, holding your hands over hers and laughing to yourself. She knew you were happy and began peppering kisses all around your face.

You could say this was an after-school date after all.

[imagineaworlds]

Rules & Roses

“you’re late”

Written By: @desperately-bisexual​

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing, mention of death. Pretty sure that’s it.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Non-binary!Reader x Emily Prentiss (poly triad)

Word Count: 2046

“You’re late,” I said to him while grinning. He shook his head, trying to stop himself from laughing so that he could focus on running up to me.

Aaron Christopher Hotchner was his name. Though I had learned a lot about him since we officially started talking on that cold Tuesday morning, I still thought of him as that six foot Nordic God. He hated that nickname, though. No matter how many times I used it, he never gave in, but I liked teasing him with it. Only two weeks had passed since we first started talking, and yet it seemed like we knew each other a lifetime. More than that, actually. My worries of talking to a stranger faded quickly the more we passed each other on the trail, then would chat as we walked to our cars. It was a nice, unspoken ritual we had. But it always started like this. No matter if it was warm or cold, sunny or cloudy, busy or quiet, we met at that park bench at the top of the U-turn. Usually, we ran beside each other, or he would be waiting up for me. This time, I was waiting on him. That wasn’t usual.

“How am I late?” he asked.

I looked at my watch. “It’s 7:17.”

“So?”

“You never reach the bench later than 7:15.”

Aaron smiled and put his hands on his hips to help him catch his breath. “Who’s stalking who now?”

“I never said you stalked me. Those are your own words.”

“Ha. Ha.” He panted for another second. “My son woke up late, so I got here late.”

I froze. During our little conversations here and there, he had never once mentioned anything about having a family. He didn’t wear a wedding ring, he seemed more than happy to flirt with me, and he never, ever said anything about having a son. This whole time, I thought he was an available man. I would have never flirted with him if I knew that he was taken, that he had other promises and responsibilities besides meeting me, practically a stranger, in the park every morning. Of course someone like him would have been snatched up by someone else. Of course the one person I saw myself potentially getting involved with since moving to D.C. was the one person I couldn’t have. My fucking luck, right? I was so stupid. How did I not see it before? Why did I get involved in all of this in the first place? I promised myself I wouldn’t talk to a stranger, and I broke that promise for him. I promised that I wouldn’t let my desperate urge for sex and love blind my ability to read social queues and dictate what was good and bad for me— and I fucking broke that promise. I saw him— I felt his hands on my hips— and everything I had learned from past experiences flew out the window. For a moment, for a blissful, wonderful moment, I forgot about Lauren because I had all of my focus on the Nordic God. A Nordic God that was taken. How fucking ridiculous.

Aaron sat down next to me. I scooted away, and he immediately noticed. A couple of days ago, I asked him what his job was at the FBI, and he told me that he studied the behavior of serial killers in order to find them. When he cracked a joke that his ability to “profile” serial killers was a curse that affected every aspect of his life, I asked him if he could profile me. Profiling was putting together all of the behaviors he spotted in someone in order to tell what kind of person they were, are, and could potentially be. Aaron laughed. He said that he had already profiled me the day we met. “Your eyes were on my friend the entire time,” he said. “Her name’s Emily, by the way.” So, that had confirmed that it wasn’t Lauren I saw. Though I was somewhat relieved, I was also disappointed, and Aaron noticed. He asked me why I was staring at her, and I simply dodged a real answer by telling him that I thought she was someone else. His profiling skills seemed to tell him I was lying. Despite the fact that he knew I wasn’t telling the truth, he didn’t pry. He never did. When I moved away from him on the bench, however, and he noticed, that was the first time I ever heard him get serious with me.

“What is it?” he asked me quietly and sincerely. I shook my head. “Y/N, it’s not what you think—”

“Why…” I hesitated for a beat. “Why would you keep flirting with me if—”

“My wife died years ago, Y/N. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

If I wasn’t embarrassed before, I was as red as a fucking tomato, and this time for all the wrong reasons. Originally, I had simply assumed that him having a son meant that he was still with someone. My first mistake. Then, I thought that it all meant that he didn’t like me, that he had been stringing me around for no reason, that maybe I was seeing between the lines. My second mistake. Now, I was embarrassed because I had made a complete fool of myself by tensing up at the thought of him having a kid— something I really didn’t mind, actually— and then I admitted that I thought he was flirting, all while practically pushing him away. I fucked this all up. Why was it that he made me trip over my tongue like this? I mean, he was always in my head since that first day we met and I felt his hands on my hips; and I found myself wanting to spend more time with him and impressing him. All of that had just been flushed down the drain. Any chance I had to keep being this happy and distracted had just disappeared because I had been stupid.

“I’m sorry.” I did a lot of compulsive apologizing around him. Because he made me trip over my own tongue, I always happened to say the wrong thing, so I constantly needed to apologize, which I could tell he found adorable, but I found it to be humiliating. “I didn’t mean to force that out of you.”

“It’s okay. It’s been so long, and I’ve had to tell so many people; I’m neutral about it these days.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“If you say sorry one more time, I’m going to start feeling bad.”

“Sorr—” I caught myself before laughing. “That’s going to be a bad habit to break.”

“All habits are hard to break.” He shrugged, leaned back, and looked forward to make the feeling between us casual again. “New rule, no more apologizing.”

Part of getting to know each other was making rules in order to make ourselves comfortable. I didn’t pry about his work, he didn’t ask me any more about his friend Emily. I didn’t stare below his belt (a personal rule I made for myself that I never disclosed to him), and he didn’t stare too long at my breasts when I would wear a low cut or tight shirt (a rule he made for himself that went unsaid). The rules would come up occasionally, but only when we were sitting on that park bench surrounded by roses. The parking lot, however, was fair game. Because that was the last time we would get to see each other until the next day, which was never guaranteed since he traveled so much— just like Lauren always did— we both got to break our staring rules until we would get into our separate cars. This new rule about apologizing didn’t seem like just a roses rule, though. If I had to guess, Aaron was going to keep an eye on me to make sure I wouldn’t  break this new rule.

I nodded. “Okay, fine. But, no more being late,” I said. He also nodded. “And, I need a 6AM warning every time you won’t be here.”

Aaron looked at me. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“Phone,” I demanded while holding out my hand. Aaron urgently dug into his pocket, racing to grab his phone before I could change my mind about giving him my number. He was too chicken shit to ask for it, so I didn’t mind taking that first step for him. Afterall, it was the most I could do since I totally messed up by getting uptight about his son. Speaking of which, when I turned Aaron’s phone on, I saw a picture of him holding his son, both of them smiling ear to ear after what looked like a victory after one of his son’s soccer games. I felt myself melting. “He’s adorable.” He had blonde hair, which wasn’t like his dad at all, but the brown eyes, lips, and nose were all a mirror image of Aaron.

“His name’s Jack.”

“How old is he?”

“Nine.”

I smiled at him before looking back down to unlock his phone and put my information into the Contacts app. When I was done, I turned it off and handed it back to him. “There. Now you can text me at 6AM every time you know you’re not going to be here.”

“And what about… other than 6AM?” He was biting his lip again. I always knew that he was flirting with me when he would bite his lip like that. He was the professional profiler, yet he couldn’t have been more obvious. One would think that he knew how to hide his tells better than that, but he really seemed to suck at it. “Can I call you tonight, maybe?”

“For what?”

He hadn’t anticipated that I would nudge him back with a question. “I—” He didn’t know what to say. I giggled. “Is it too late to take my rule back so that I can say sorry for being too forward?”

“Yeah. It is. Sometimes it’s okay to be forward.” I stood from the bench, giving him the idea that it was time to go. He stood, too, taking my lead because he seemed like a lost puppy that needed to be told what to do. “I get off work at seven. You can call me for whatever it is you have on your mind any time after that.” I jumped on my toes to warm myself up, also testing to see just how long he could keep his eyes on mine and not one any other part of me that was a little more… distracting. “I’ll race you to the parking lot.”

“What happens if you win?”

“Who said there needs to be prizes?”

“The new rule I just made,” he said like it was a tease.

I squinted at him. “You can’t just make rules up for your benefit, Aaron.”

“Well, if you win, Y/N, I’ll stop making up random rules.”

“And if you win?”

I saw his answer coming from a mile away, but I still felt myself smiling when he said, “I take you out for dinner after our call tonight.”

“Deal.”

Aaron wasn’t prepared at all yet, but that didn’t stop me from beginning my dash down the path. Though I was inevitably going to let him win, I still had to put up somewhat of a fight to make his win believable. Aaron seemed to notice immediately. Before I could make it very far, he was already speeding past me, intent on winning so  that he could take me to dinner. Dummy. I wasn’t trying very hard to win. He didn’t seem to notice, though,even as we reached the parking lot where he claimed his victory. He slowed to a stop. As I caught up, he turned around and smiled.

“You’re late,” he teased me.

I rolled my eyes. “Pick me up at eight.” I immediately started making my way towards my car, which gave Aaron the chance to break his rule so that he could stare at me for a little longer than he was supposed to. “And don’t be late!” I called back to him.

------------

criminal minds family: @peggy1999​ @gorgeousdarkangel​  @alex--awesome--22​ @oceaneblu​ @brithedemonspawn​ @absolutemarveltrash​ @bshelley322​

[the-dream-team]

What I Would Do 

Read it on AO3

“And if you come anywhere within spitting distance of my friends again, you’ll lose a lot more than your voice, Mulciber .”

Lily Evans stared down the Slytherin whose ability to speak she’d stolen with a well-practiced Silencing Charm. Unable to spit out anymore foul language, Mulciber narrowed his eyes and stormed off towards the dungeons, accepting defeat. She turned to Mary and gave her a small smile. That problem was taken care of. For now, at least.

“Oh, that was marvelous!” came a clear, familiar voice from across the corridor. “Evans, you’re one helluva witch, have I told you that yet today?” Jamie Potter grinned at Lily, one hand clutching her stupid stolen snitch and another combing through her tangle of wild curls. Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew followed close behind her, as they always did. She playfully swatted Sirius’ shoulder and tugged at her shirt collar. “Padfoot, you know I can’t resist a girl who stands up against those bastard Death Eaters-in-training.” Sirius barked out a laugh.

Lily rolled her eyes. “Knock it off, Potter, or you’ll be next on my hit-list.”

Jamie’s grin only broadened. “Evans, you drive me crazy, you know that? I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, what I would do if you started flying for the other team…”

As Jamie and her posse sauntered off down the hall, Mary sighed.

“It must be hard for her,” she said softly.

“Hard for who, Potter?” asked Lily in disbelief.

“Yes, Jamie, ” said Mary. “Having those kinds of unrequited feelings seeing as she’s the only girl here who… y’know.”

Lily’s mouth gaped open. “Mary! There are no feelings involved. Potter just can’t let go of an old joke.”

Mary raised her eyebrows. “If you say so.”

Unbelievable. Lily crossed her arms and furrowed her brow the rest of the way to the Library. Unrequited feelings my arse, she thought with a huff. Potter had been acting out the same schtick for years. She loved boasting about her deep, dramatic attraction towards Lily (most often in public places) and calling Lily’s preferences into question. It made her uneasy, and Potter knew it. Jamie liked rileing her up.

Of course, she had to admit it hadn’t started as a joke. Their third year, during a particularly rowdy Herbology lesson, Lily and Jamie got into a row over the Leaping Toadstools they were meant to be picking in the forest. After some bickering over who would be in charge of catching the mushrooms and a bit of shoving back and forth, Lily eventually threatened Jamie with a Bat-Bogey hex if she kept getting in her way.

Before she could stop herself, in front of the entire class, Jamie practically shouted, “Bloody hell, Evans, what I would do if only you were into girls.”

The heat burned so deeply on Lily’s cheeks that day, sometimes she still felt the licks of fire teasing her skin nearly four years later. The panic. The embarrassment. The fear. It all boiled up from her knotted stomach and racing heart, presenting as a disgusted expression that could only be painful for the receiving end.

Jamie’s usually confident smirk had been replaced with a gaping mouth and... were those tears welling in her eyes?

After the initial shock, Lily tried softening her expression, but the damage was done. In an instant, Jamie swiped a hand under her glasses, ran another through her fringe, and put on a forced lopsided grin. “So, er, you’ll keep me updated if anything changes, yeah?”

She let out a laugh, looking for the boys to back her up. They chuckled along with her the best they could while Jamie shrugged to the class and went back to their Toadstools, avoiding Lily’s eye for the rest of the lesson.

A stormcloud of guilt brewed in Lily’s chest the following weeks. Jamie had taken to staying in the boy’s dorm to avoid any kind of contact with her and the other girls. Sirius had stepped up, becoming extra protective of her and sending daggers at anyone who dared to even glance in Jamie’s direction. Lily tried getting her alone to apologize for weeks before eventually cornering her and Remus one day after Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“Potter,” said Lily, breathless as she chased her down the hallway, “please, I wanted to talk to you.”

Jamie spun around with a dazzling smile. “Evans! Coming to tell me you’ve finally changed your mind?”

The flirtatious wink sent Lily over the edge, her planned speech quickly abandoned. “Oh, you’re impossible!”

“Don’t worry, love,” Jamie casually laughed, “take your time, I can wait.”

Completely speechless and beyond flustered, Lily had no choice but to storm away. She was thirteen and emotional, and years away from controlling the way her feelings manifested themselves. So for the following weeks (and then years) as Jamie kept up the teasing, Lily responded emphatically with thunderous huffs and exaggerated scoffs.

By seventh year, their routine became so practiced, Lily barely noticed her heart skip anymore when Jamie shot off her endless string of compliments. Barely flinched when Potter suggested there could be a question of Lily’s tastes.

There weren’t any questions.

She didn’t fancy girls.

Had there been close calls through the years? Sure.

On a warm spring day down by the lake, when Dorcas placed an innocent hand on Lily’s thigh while laughing at a dumb joke, had Lily’s stomach somersaulted in a not-totally-unpleasant way? Yes. Had she spent the next few months secretly hoping it would happen again? Possibly.

Had there been times where Lily caught her eyes wandering to the hems of skirts or lingering on Jamie’s impossibly long eyelashes, only magnified by those stupid, round wire-rimmed lenses? It didn’t matter.

Those moments weren’t real. They never formed as full sentences in her head, mentally blocked before they took shape. The heat on her leg left behind from Dorcas’s touch didn’t mean anything if she didn’t give it a name. Ideas could float untethered around her mind as long as they never met the ground.

The thoughts she had about boys were real. Shared giggles with Mary about Sirius Black’s sharp jawline or Amos Diggory’s playful charm flowed with ease. Her crush on Remus Lupin during their fourth year terrified her to admit out loud, but there had never been a question about whether she was allowed to let her imagination run wild over his floppy sandy hair and pleasant quiet smile. Boys were easy.

The thought of liking girls never would have crossed her mind if Jamie hadn’t said those words to her in Herbology all those years ago. Lily hadn’t even known that was an option before. Perhaps if Jamie had kept her mouth shut, if she hadn’t spent the next four years poking and prodding at Lily’s very secure sexuality, then Lily would never have found herself repeating the whispered phrase in her mind,

Please don’t let me fancy girls. Please, please don’t let me fancy girls.

***

On one unusually warm and breezy day in March, Professor Slughorn called for Lily to stay behind for a moment after Potions. She waved on her friends, promising to meet them at the Great Hall later for lunch, and happily made her way to the front of the classroom.

“Miss Evans!” boomed Slughorn. “I had a favor to ask of you if you’d be up to it.”

“Of course,” she said. The Potions Professor had always been one of her biggest supporters at Hogwarts and she rarely passed up an opportunity to lend a hand.

“You see, I’ve completely run out of Flobberworm Mucus and I’ve got a lesson on Sleeping Draughts for my first years this afternoon.” He checked his watch and shook his head as a group of fourth years started parading into the dungeons. “And as you can see, I’ve got classes back to back until then! My dear, would you mind running down to Pippen’s Apothecary during your lunch break? I can write you a note and let Minerva know you’ll be popping down to Hogsmead for just a moment…”

“I’d be more than happy to,” said Lily, eager to get outside and stretch her legs. The prospect of getting to see the little village outside of the usually scheduled trips thrilled her.  

“Wonderful!” said Slughorn, summoning a piece of parchment and adding his signature in a swooping, elegant script. “A tankard of mucus should do, and of course they know where to bill it to.”

Lily grabbed the note with a grin and spun on her heel to head out the door, practically skipping on her way out.

The moment she stepped outside the castle, her lungs filled with a humid air, fresh from the previous night’s rain. Puddles littered the pathways, serving as an extra reminder to enjoy the sunny weather when it managed to crash through the otherwise constant cover of clouds. With a squeal of excitement, Lily shrugged off her robes and rolled up her sleeves, letting the warm breeze wash over her skin and whip through her hair.

A rare taste of independence played on Lily’s lips, curling up the corners into a wide smile. She held onto the precious moment alone, briskly walking towards the village as she imagined what life outside of Hogwarts had in store for her. Adulthood approached as quickly as the little shops and bustling pathways of Hogsmeade Village, and soon she reached her destination.

Faint, tinkling bells announced Lily’s arrival as she stepped through the front door of Pippen’s Apothecary. Sunlight poured through the large front windows, soaking the rows of shelves with a golden glow. Bundles of herbs, jars of multi-colored liquids, and barrels of crystals lined the shop’s walls and overflowed into its hallways. And towards the front of the store, a knobly old man in a well-worn cloak stroked a mewing black cat with round, yellow eyes.

“Welcome to Pippens,” he smiled. “It’s not a Hogwarts weekend, is it?”

Lily ignored the disappointed pang of being recognized as a student and approached the front counter. “No, sir, it’s a tuesday,” she said. “I’ve just been sent by Professor Slughorn to pick up a tankard of Flobberworm Mucus.”

“Ah, of course,” said the man, squinting down at Lily’s note. “Old Horace runs through that mucus faster than a unicorn during a solar eclipse.”

She let the unfamiliar metaphor fall to the side with a chuckle and watched the shopkeeper shuffle back into his storage closet. The cat nudged Lily’s arm with a soft meow, unflinching towards the clanking and bumping sounds of the man pouring a thick liquid into a pint-sized container.

“I’ve put Horace’s invoice in the bag here,” said the man, handing over a canvas tote with the mucus lovingly wrapped up inside. “He knows where to find me!”

Lily thanked him with and grin and gave the cat another scratch behind the ears before turning to leave.

“Now you didn’t hear this from me,” called the man as Lily was halfway out the door, “but Fortescue’s brought his ice cream cart out for the first warm day of the year, and I hear he’s handing out free samples.” He sent a cheery wink in her direction.

“Oh, thank you, sir!” Lily beamed and she waved goodbye.

Ice cream sounded lovely.

The cart wasn’t hard to find, as a small crowd of villagers had lined up to take advantage of Fortescue’s deal. The giddiness of being surrounded by adults in the real world fluttered back as Lily queued with other shopkeeps on their lunch breaks and locals enjoying an afternoon on the streets. When it came her turn to order, she received a generous sample of the mint chocolate chip and a sweet smile from Florean Fortescue himself.

She couldn’t dream up a more perfect afternoon. Lily walked slowly through the streets of Hogsmead, determined to drink in as much of the gorgeous day as possible. The trees, just starting to bud, swayed back and forth rhythmically, and the grass, freshly watered, still smelled like a new morning’s dew. She watched the witches and wizards stroll down the pathways. A short man with a top hat chased after a yappy dog while a large wizard peered down at his comically small pocket watch, and on a bench across the street from where she stood, two witches took turns sharing an ice cream cone.

Lily’s heart skipped a beat as her eyes locked onto the women sitting together on the bench. They looked to be in their late twenties or possibly early thirties. Both wore fashionable cloaks with trendy hairstyles and one of the women was reading a well-loved book in between licks of chocolate ice cream, her feet propped up on the bench, and her shoulder leaning against the other woman. A warmth flooded Lily’s chest as her heartrate quickened watching the pair, shocked by how lovely she found the simple scene.

Lily watched as the reading witch, not taking her eyes from her book, angled her head to ask for another bite of ice cream, but instead of bringing the cone to her lips as she had done before, the other woman surprised her with a quick kiss. The overwhelming flood of emotions burst from Lily’s chest in a gasp.

She wanted what she saw before her. She wanted the lazy afternoon sitting on a bench, curled up with a book and an ice cream cone and a girl to lean against.  

Her mind raced with thoughts crashing to the ground with such force that their echos reverberated through her entire body, making her knees week and hands tremble. Every blurry idea in her head racked into focus, each half formulated sentence allowed itself to be completed with an exclamation point. Lily stared ahead at the bench where the possibilities of her future blew open like a firework spreading across the night sky.

After what felt like ages of watching the two witches, Lily finally peeled her gaze away and forced herself to make her way back to Hogwarts. Every step felt like walking on clouds as she practically floated up the road towards the castle. That is until she came face to face with another girl wearing a school uniform and a stupidly happy grin on her face.

“Potter?”

“Evans?”

Jamie had appeared in front of her out of thin air.

“What are you doing at Hogsmeade?” asked Lily, praying her shaking voice wasn’t too obvious. She hadn’t been prepared to see Jamie while her emotions were this heightened. The pounding of her heart beat into her eardrums and threatened to leap out her throat. Jamie wore her usual crooked smile, so effortless on her soft features, mirrored perfectly in those mischievous hazel eyes.

“I could ask you the same question,” said Jamie, cocking an eyebrow. That feeling of anger Lily associated with Potter and her teasing bubbled up to the surface. But it wasn’t anger she felt. It was fear. A deep fear of how Jamie’s playful jokes made her stomach flutter and her cheeks blush. And now that Lily’s image of herself grew clearer in her mind’s eye with every passing moment, she no longer had the capacity to bottle up and explain away the fear she felt when looking at Jamie Potter, who had always made her feel this way.

Feeling so desperately alive, she had to do something.

“I’m running an errand for Professor Slughorn,” she said calmly, “but I can assume you don’t have an excuse to be outside the castle.”

“Ah, you caught me, Evans,” said Jamie with a chuckle. “Look, I was just popping down to Honeydukes to pick Remus up his favorite chocolate bars. I could’ve taken the tunnel- and I probably should’ve considering our little run-in here- but it’s such a lovely day that I said screw it and walked the path instead.” She shrugged her shoulders, not looking too disappointed about being discovered.

Lily narrowed her eyes and put all of her efforts into provoking Jamie. “Well, maybe I should just say screw it and give you a month's worth of detentions, Potter.”

It worked. Jamie’s eyes widened like saucers and her smirk grew into a proper grin. “Oh, Evans, stop that, you’re making me blush! Merlin, what I would do if you ever switched your fancies.”

Jamie had walked right into her trap. With a deep breath and a pointed stare, trying to convey every feeling exploding through her body, Lily responded, “What would you do?”

Jamie froze, clearly never expecting a reply to the scenario she so often suggested.

Lily ignored the flush spreading across her face and continued. “What would you do if I told you I fancied girls. If I fancied you. ” Her heart thudded so painfully against her chest, she thought she might be sick.

Jamie stood slackjawed, not breaking eye contact, like a deer in headlights. The girl who always had a quick comeback or a smart retort for every situation had been rendered speechless. The painful reality that Jamie’s previous words had no intent of action behind them crashed over Lily like a wave breaking in the middle of an ocean storm. And now the drops of saltwater spilled over, stinging the corners of her eyes.

“Enjoy your time in the village, Potter,” she said softly as she turned away from Jaimie, escaping the nightmare as quickly as possible.

The ground, which had felt weightless only a moment ago, became hard and cruel under her feet as she trudged back up the path to the castle. How could she be so stupid? Why did she allow her bursting adrenalin to make her do something so reckless?

“Evans!” Jamie shouted from behind, but Lily wouldn’t turn around, couldn’t let Potter see the tears welling in her eyes. “Lily, wait!”

A hand clutched Lily’s wrist and tugged back hard, spinning her whole body around in a flash. Two gentle palms grasped the side of her head and cupped her cheek while hazel eyes bore into her own. Jamie Potter’s face was inches from her own, dazed and flustered and looking for a clue.

Lily responded instinctually with the only clue Jamie needed. A laughing smile of uncontainable joy.

Jamie crashed forward, meeting Lily’s lips in an exhilarating kiss that set her nerve endings on fire. Soft and firm, the years of pent up emotion spilled between their mouths and hands and bodies as they drew closer to one another. Lily ran her fingers through Jamie’s wonderful hair and bumped her adorable wire-rimmed glasses with her nose. She never could have known how good this would feel.

When they finally came up for air, Jamie’s face glowed with shock and happiness under the sunlight, her cheeks flushed and eyes unbelieving. Lily couldn’t help but pull her into a tight embrace and commit the feeling of her to memory, never wanting to live in the dark ever again.

“Hey, Jamie?” Lily asked into the girl’s shoulder. “Do you want to go get ice cream with me?”

Jamie tightened the hug, nearly suffocating Lily in the best possible way. “Oh, Evans, what I would do to get ice cream with you.”

[chilling-seavey]

HAPPY PASSCHENDAELE BLURB ALERT: idk if u wrote about this before, but Daniel meeting lizzie for the first time and its just lowkey love/admiration at first sight

Daniel and Elizabeth’s relationship was summarized here but their meeting was never written!! So here you go! 🥰

June 9, 1914

It was a Tuesday. An every day Tuesday in the small town just outside London. It was sunny and warm and Daniel had been sent to the main street to deliver a package to the post office for his mother. He was in his own little world, walking quickly out of the post office with a soft tune on his lips as the sun reached his face again. He shielded his eyes with his hand from the glare, trying to squint through the sudden brightness that contrasted the dark interior of the post office he had just come from.

Next door was the general store, right on the corner of the main street and Daniel passed by the front windows and the alcove where the front door was. The bell rang and he glanced up to see a young woman struggling to open the door with two large paper bags set on her hips. Daniel jumped in right away to hold the door for her. She gasped as the heavy door was taken from her back and she looked up at him from under her sunhat with surprised eyes,

“Oh! You startled me!”

“Sorry,” Daniel flushed lightly under the wide eyed stare of the blonde girl in front of him, “It just appeared that you might need a hand.”

She shifted the filled bags on her hips with a small grunt, “Thank you.”

“May I help you bring your bags home?” he offered softly.

The glare he got in response took him by surprise and the young woman scoffed dramatically, “Just because I’m a woman it is presumed that I cannot carry my own groceries?”

Daniel only bit back a small grin, trying not to look too amused by her obvious wit and he shrugged as she stared strongly back at him. They stayed in place a moment, right in the doorway of the general store until an elderly woman yelled at them to get out of the way. The two eighteen-year-olds quickly apologized to the woman and moved farther onto the walkway, Daniel making sure he held the door for the woman as well before returning to the young lady’s side. They still stared silently at each other, as if waiting for the other to say something first.

Daniel dropped his gaze to his shoes, his hands held together behind his back as he smiled to the road, shy under the strong stare of the pretty blonde girl he found himself in front of. A loud clank had him looking back up at her as a can had fallen from her bag and was rolling down the street.

“Oh shoot.” she muttered, struggling to keep the bag on her hips as she rushed after the runaway can.

“I got it.” Daniel said quickly and ran down the street to grab the dented can and returned it to her grocery bag.

“Thank you.” she sighed. “I might suppose I should take you up on that offer to carry a bag for me. Otherwise I might make myself look a fool.”  

Daniel smiled calmly at her and nodded, carefully scooping up one of her paper bags. It certainly was heavy and he got it secure in his arms before following after her around the corner and down the side streets of the small town.

“Mother’s grocery list is always extensive.” she said with a strained sigh, both arms now holding up the one bag.

“My mother is the same.” Daniel admitted lightly, making sure to walk closest to the road so she wouldn’t get splashed by anything if a motorcar drove past.

“I’m Elizabeth, by the way.” the young woman said.

“Daniel.”

They stopped for a moment and both struggled to share a handshake under the grocery bags, making themselves laugh lightly before continuing to walk on.

“Your mother must be proud of you; such a gentleman.” Elizabeth said coolly.

“I suppose.” Daniel chuckled, kicking a stray stone on the side of the road as they walked.

“You suppose?” Elizabeth questioned.

“Well you didn’t seem very impressed by it so I must not be that gentlemanly yet.” Daniel shrugged, squinting over at her through the bright sun that beat down on them. Her blonde curls seemed to sparkle in the springtime sun under her brimmed hat.

“No, no. You were terribly well-mannered.” Elizabeth assured him. “My mother has simply raised me to not be dependant on a man.”

“I see.” Daniel answered plainly.

“No hard feelings, of course.” she added quickly. “My mother and I just believe strongly in women’s rights. That does not frighten you, does it?”

“Why should it?” Daniel asked.

Elizabeth smiled to herself as she continued to explain, “It frightens most men – the cowardly men mostly, I find. They are intimidated by the idea that women want to vote and have our voices be heard…worried that the ones who brought them into this world might end up being the ones who end the world, God forbid.”

Daniel chuckled softly and they fell into momentary silence.

“Do you think women should have the vote?”

It was a blunt and heavy question and Daniel cleared his throat for a moment to think about a solid response.

“Honest answer.” Elizabeth reassured him. “I will not kick you between the legs if you say ‘no’; you may just get a lecture at worst.”

“Well,” Daniel laughed lightly, “I do think everyone should be able to vote, women too of course. It’s just…who would you vote for?”

“We would hopefully have women running for office soon too.”

“Oh.”

“Does that scare you?”

“No. It just seems a little…”

“Odd?”

“For lack of a better word, I suppose.”

“I think so too.” Elizabeth agreed. “But one step at a time. Mother and I attend every women’s rights parade in London whenever we can. We are so lucky for Father who supports us and all of our crazy endeavours.”

“My father certainly doesn’t.” Daniel scoffed.

“Does he not?” Elizabeth frowned as they turned down another small street.

“No.” Daniel laughed humourlessly. “Certainly not. He is your traditional type of man, I suppose. Claims women belong in the kitchen.”

“Ugh.” Elizabeth groaned, shaking her head.

“So what do you do at marches?” Daniel asked.

“Lots of things. My favourite is making the posters with my sister the night before and we just protest on the streets of London and outside parliament and Buckingham Palace. It’s incredible.”

They came to a stop in front of a large house with sprawling gardens and Elizabeth set her hand on the front gate.

“Some of the women take it incredibly seriously but Mother and I just think that if we show up enough and have enough names down that someone would have to listen eventually. This is supposed to be a democracy after all.”

“Can I…Can I come to a march with you?” Daniel asked softly.

Elizabeth’s calm smile turned into a huge grin, “Yes! I would love that a lot. The more men we can get on our side, the better; as much as I hate to say it.”

“Okay.” Daniel nodded once. He carefully passed over her second grocery bag and she thanked him genuinely, and again when he opened the gate for her to walk through.

“Come past here on Friday around noon!” Elizabeth called over her shoulder.

“I will!” Daniel agreed.

“Votes for Women!” Elizabeth shouted, her excitement making a few cans fall out of her paper bags and she dropped them onto her front step. “Oh Christ.”

Daniel bit back his grin as he watched her shuffle to gather the cans from the walkway and stuff them back in the bags. Her hat fell off in the process and she tossed it on top of the bags with a huff, turning back to Daniel and waving him off.

“See you, Daniel!”

“See you Friday, Elizabeth.” Daniel replied sweetly before heading back off towards home. He glanced over his shoulder again to catch the last glimpse of her before turning the corner, biting back his smitten grin.

[thecassadilla]

A Scarf to Keep Him Warm

Pairing: New Dream/Rapunzel x Eugene

Word Count: 1,754/AO3

Summary: Rapunzel decides to take matters into her own hands when she notices that Eugene doesn’t have any wintertime accessories.

Author’s Note: Hi again! I still hate fall, but I wrote another New Dream fic so yay! I was able to write about a skill that Rapunzel and I both share in this one - knitting! Although this is a modern!AU, Rapunzel is a skilled knitter just like she is in the movie. Writing this fic made me want to knit something even though I’ve devoted all of my time to writing these days lol. Anyway, enjoy!!!

In the years since she’d met him, Rapunzel learned a lot about the man known as Eugene Fitzherbert. From his meticulous hair styling and grooming routine, to the way he took his coffee, and everything in-between.

But the one thing that she couldn’t quite understand was his lack of preparedness for the colder seasons. A chill formed in the air, and while Rapunzel had added a hat, gloves, and a scarf to her outdoor ensemble, Eugene hadn’t added anything. He simply wore a black leather jacket, his hands buried deep in the pockets when they were outside for a prolonged period of time. 

The first winter they spent together, Rapunzel kept making the foolish assumption that he’d eventually add those missing pieces to his wardrobe. But soon, the air grew warm, and there was no longer a need for such accessories, and the assumption changed. Her new assumption was that he had a high tolerance for cold weather. Nonetheless, their pea coats and leather jackets were traded in for shorts and tank tops. 

But the seasons are cyclical, and autumn eventually returned. On one particularly brisk October morning, Rapunzel and Eugene sat at his kitchen table, discussing the rapid change of weather.

“Just yesterday it was sixty-five degrees!” he griped, setting two steaming mugs of coffee onto the table. “Today? It’s forty degrees! Should I break out the shovel just in case there’s an unexpected blizzard tomorrow?”

“Stranger things have happened,” Rapunzel shrugged, cradling the mug between her hands and relishing in its warmth.

“I’m getting really tired of the seasons,” he moaned. “I want to move somewhere where the seasons never change. Somewhere tropical and sunny. I hate cold weather.”

“I see,” she remarked, furrowing her eyebrows together and placing her mug back on the table. She leaned back in her chair, pondering what he had just said, before proceeding with her query. “How come you never wear anything that keeps you warm?”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t exactly wear clothing that keeps you warm during winter,” she explained. “I feel like if you wore a scarf or gloves, then the cold would be more tolerable.”

He sat still for a moment before answering, his face softening. “I never really had those things when I was growing up. So I guess I never really thought about buying them as an adult?”

“Eugene,” she cooed, reaching out and taking his hands in her own. “That’s awful. No wonder why you can’t stand the changing seasons - you suffer every time you go outside because you’re cold.”

“It’s really not a big deal, Sunshine,” he promised, averting his eyes. He was trying to downplay the situation. “I’m used to it. I’ll survive this winter, just like I survived the past twenty-three winters: with a bit of complaining, and my trusty old leather jacket.”

Rapunzel was not satisfied with his response. Why would he want to continue to suffer when the solution was so simple? So, she decided it was time to take matters into her own hands. If he didn’t want to buy a scarf, she would make him one. It would be more expensive and labor-intensive than simply buying him a scarf, but it would be worth it.

Knitting was one of the many talents that she acquired, but never put to use. It wasn’t a particularly difficult hobby, and she was grateful that she’d finally be able to put her skills to work. The following day, she spent hours on the Internet, researching patterns and types of yarn before taking a trip to the craft store. She wandered for what felt like hours, picking up the supplies that she knew she needed - particularly, size eleven needles - and the supplies that she wanted. After consulting with the sales associate, and taking trips to a few other craft stores, she finally found the yarn she was looking for; skeins of dark grey cashmere. It would match his leather jacket, and it would be softer against his skin than wool. Finally satisfied, she returned home to her apartment and set off to work.

The pattern she chose was fairly simple, and nothing to fuss about; a simple two-by-two rib stitch pattern. She followed the pattern closely, casting on thirty-nine immaculate loops. Knit two, purl two, repeat. Row after row, she sat for hours under the soft glow of the floor lamp in her tiny, cozy living room. It was easy to keep going; her hands growing accustomed to the back and forth motion of the needles, and the constant pulling of the yarn. When she finally put the needles down and glanced at her cell phone, she realized exactly how much time had passed. Fifteen text messages from Eugene that had gone ignored. Instead of answering them she decided it would be easier to call him. He answered after a few rings.

“Hey, Sunshine,” he crooned, his voice low and gravelly.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“It’s alright,” he insisted, and he suddenly sounded much more awake than he did the minute before. “I dozed off on the couch. I’m glad you called, we didn’t get to talk much today.”

“Sorry about that,” she grimaced. “I was a little preoccupied.”

“No need to be sorry. You were busy.”

“I still should’ve checked in.”

“I’m just happy to hear your voice.” She could practically hear him smiling through the phone and she found herself blushing. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“No,” she sighed, glancing down at the project in her lap. “I have plans after work. Tuesday for sure, though.”

“Okay,” he said, softly. “I think I’m gonna head off to bed now.”

“Same here. My eyes are starting to burn.”

“Goodnight, Sunshine. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she smiled. “Sleep well, Eugene.”

Though, instead of making it to her bedroom, she settled back into the chair and slept there, too tired to move.

When she got back from work the next day, she settled into the same routine. Knitting and purling under the glow of her lamp until she finally felt satisfied with the length of the scarf. She began to bind off, making sure that the edges were even and perfect. When she finished the very last stitch, she rolled her shoulders back, releasing the tension that had built up while she was working on her project. She stood up, dropped the needles onto the chair and brought the scarf over to the mirror. She draped it over her own shoulders and around her neck, trying to picture what it would look like on Eugene.

She eventually took it off, and gently folded it so it would easily fit into her oversized purse, as the best way to catch him off guard was to not put his gift in a gift bag. And for the rest of the evening, she twiddled her thumbs and hoped that the clock would move faster so she could finally give the scarf to him. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rapunzel was buzzing with excitement by the time she finally made it to Eugene’s apartment, and she knew that she wouldn’t be able to hide the scarf from him for long once she actually saw him. She knocked a few times before he answered.

He was already smiling when he opened the door. “Hey, Rapunzel.”

“Hi,” she said, walking into the tiny hallway. They shared a quick, but sweet ‘hello’ kiss before she shimmied out of her jacket and hung it on the coat rack. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

They had barely made it any further into his apartment before she nearly exploded with eagerness. “So, I have something for you,” she said, rocking back on her heels and clutching her purse in her hands. “Something I made.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded. “You have to close your eyes, though.”

“Okay,” he agreed, squeezing them shut.

“No peeking,” she warned.

He shook his head. “No peeking.”

Content with his promise, she reached into the bag and unraveled the scarf. Taking it in her hands, she dropped the purse on his coffee table and stepped closer to Eugene, balancing on her toes before loosely draping it around his neck. Her cold fingers gently brushed across his cheek as she created a single loop, adjusting it so each end of the scarf was even and flat against his chest. Smiling, she took a step back, satisfied with her work.

“Okay, you can open your eyes.”

He did as he was told, and his eyes immediately darted down to the unfamiliar object that had been placed around his neck. A small smile appeared on his face and he gingerly took one end of the scarf in his hands, admiring the soft texture and the perfect stitches.

“You made this? For me?” he asked, almost in disbelief.

She nodded, her own lips creeping upwards. “That’s why I couldn’t see you yesterday. I wanted to finish it.”

“I don’t know what to say, Rapunzel,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn’t seem to peel his eyes away from her craftsmanship. “This is the most generous gift anyone has ever given me. Thank you.”

Before she could respond, he was pulling her into a hug, squeezing her as tightly as he could, and burying his face into her neck. “I didn’t want you to be cold this winter,” she explained.  

“I didn’t even know that you knew how to knit,” he remarked, his voice muffled.

“I never mentioned it. It’s been a long time since I knit anything.”

He finally pulled away enough to look at her face. “I still don’t know what to say. I’m in shock.”

“I’m just glad that you like it.”

“How could I not like it? It’s so beautiful and thoughtful.”

“I could make you gloves, too. And a hat, if you want. The only thing that I can’t make you is a sweater because of the sweater curse.”

He looked puzzled. “The sweater curse?”

“It’s an old superstition. If you knit your significant other a sweater before you’re married, then the relationship will end.”

“Don’t do that,” he laughed, waving his hands. “No curses here, please.”

“No curses,” she promised.

“Thank you again, Rapunzel. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“You shouldn’t have to suffer through the cold weather, and I wanted to make sure that you wouldn’t,” she smiled. “I’m just happy that you’re happy.”

Without any hesitation, he took her back in his arms, both of them as safe and warm as could be.

[stovetuna]

Imagine Steve/Avengers walking in to Tony entertaining two soldiers in the common room and being really confused because Tony??? Despises the military??? But then find out that those two soldiers are actually from the “fun-vee” way back in IM 1 and Tony’s fitting them with prosthetics.

ahhh this has been stuck in my head for DAYS anon! I don’t necessarily agree with the assessment that Tony hates the military, per se (doing business with the military and the military industrial complex, however, and all that that toxic shit entails, definitely yes), BUT it’s such a heartbreaking/warming concept I had to run with it! I think I got it right with Air Force vs Army, but the movie was kinda vague—I’m going off of the fact that the driver said “I’m an airman,” which you would not say if you were in the Army.

and since the airmen (and woman) Tony was traveling with in the Fun-Vee are canonically deceased, I thought I’d have Tony do something…well, Extremely Tony™ to compensate…

(::whispers:: also we’re just gonna pretend that the Bucky-killed-Tony’s-parents-revelations of Cap 2/3 aren’t a thing in this vaguely alternate MCU universe. la-di-da, la-di-da…)

***

It’s not surprising to walk into the Avengers common area and see Tony Stark working on something no one can quite comprehend. That’s par for the course, really, as commonplace as days that end in Y. Machines, phones, tablets, watches, the toaster after Hulk pressed the cancel button a little too hard—they’ve seen Tony futzing with just about everything that exists in the Tower (and some things that don’t—couldn’t—exist anywhere else except where Tony is). 

What the team isn’t expecting when the elevator doors open onto the communal floor that sunny Tuesday afternoon is a living room scattered with men and women in various states of modest undress, all of whom immediately pivot in place to take stock of the new arrivals. Three men, one woman, and in the middle of their protective circle is Tony, eyes blazing with the same thrill of invention he often gets in the lab, a pair of needle-nose pliers clenched in his teeth.

Steve in particular notices the way Tony looks, because he’s developed a bad habit of doing that over the past year and change, and he’s kind of helpless at this point. Tony’s backlit by the afternoon sun, preoccupied with whatever he’s doing with the strange woman’s arm to distraction, and Steve can’t be judged too harshly—anyone with eyes would drag theirs over the exposed muscles of Tony’s arms, the shift and flex of his shoulders, the firm taper of his waist, the pronounced curve of his a—

“Are we, uh, interrupting something?” Clint has to shout to be heard above the music blasting from all corners of the room. 

Tony looks up from his work and waves his free hand, the one that isn’t wrist-deep in what looks remarkably like a prosthetic arm. He makes a ‘cut it off’ motion to his neck before taking the pliers out of his mouth while FRIDAY lowers the rock music to a dull background hum. 

“Hey! Sorry, I tried to keep it to the lab, but these guys wanted to see where the Avengers hang out, and I couldn’t say no.” 

Steve tears his eyes away from Tony (who should really work the sweaty-and-disheveled-mechanic look more often) to take in the others in the room with him. It’s a panorama of people, and the first thing Steve notices, besides their more obvious differences, is how comfortable they all are with each other, to the point that walking in on this moment feels invasive, almost rude. 

The four are all of remarkably different builds and backgrounds, not a similarity between them: an African American man, no taller than Steve was before the serum, sits on the couch; a white man, thin as a rake and twice as tall, is reaching for a glass of water on the coffee table; an Asian American man, whose shoulders are somehow even broader than Steve’s, stands rigidly next to Tony, arms folded across his chest; and the lone woman, whose glossy black hair is wound tightly in a bun at the back of her head. Steve notes the beautifully elaborate Native American tattoo covering the expanse of her shoulders and upper back. 

Then Steve notices the high-and-tights, the form-fitting, drab beige shirts they’re all wearing, the combat boots lined up behind the loveseat, and he realizes, much like he did with Sam that morning in DC, oh—these are my people.

“Ah, well, welcome to the octagon!” Clint says with an easy smile, stepping forward to shake hands and say hello like a normal human being. Natasha gives Steve one of her looks before she and Sam follow him into the living room—I don’t know any more than you do.

Bruce, Wanda, and Vision stay behind with Steve to let the first wave through. Steve watches his teammates greet the airmen without fanfare, welcoming strangers into their private midst like it’s routine. 

“Didn’t know y’all would be around, else we would’ve stayed outta sight.” 

Sam laughs, clapping the sitting man on the shoulder. “Dude, if Tony told us you were here, I would have come downstairs and bugged you, myself.” 

“Sure, PJ—you just wanted to see what real Air Force muscle looks like,” the man grins, flexing his barrel chest hard enough to strain his shirt. Sam guffaws and gives him a friendly punch to the shoulder, which the man returns in kind with a fist to the kidney. 

Clint is already deep in conversation with the redheaded beanpole, who talks so fast it’s dizzying; Natasha is standing next to the third man, keeping her eyes forward, and together they watch Tony disappear back into his work, muttering things back and forth to each other, so quiet even Steve can’t hear. 

“I think all is clear,” Vision says smoothly, drifting forward with Wanda, who is visibly fascinated by the woman’s tattoo until she steps into the throng and sees something that makes her face fall. 

Steve moves forward, curious and worried in equal measure. Bruce is hot on his heels. 

“—I mean it’s crazy right? It’s crazy, Tony Stark, Tony Stark calls us up out of the blue one day and says ‘You’ll be waiting six months to a year for a decent repair job, let alone a complete replacement, and I owe you guys, come on by Avengers Tower—”

Redhead is gabbing excitedly, gesticulating like Tony does when he’s in the mad depths of an invention binge. Steve sees the glint of metal and hears the whir of mechanisms working smoothly together in tandem and realizes both of the man’s hands are prosthetic. 

“Oh man! Oh, man! Captain, sir, wow, it’s—fuck, shit, my mama would kill me for swearing in front of you, fucking—shit, sorry, fuck—ah, damn it!”

Steve smiles and introduces himself—Corporal Bill Levee, apparently, is just as talkative up close. For all that his hand is made of metal, his grip feels remarkably, tangibly real. 

While Bill goes back to talking compound bows with Hawkeye, Steve looks at the man on the couch. Sam and Vision are now sitting on either side of him: both of his legs end at mid-thigh, and in their place are what look like brand-new metal limbs, designed to match his proportions exactly. The metal is dark, shiny, beautiful. He looks thrilled. He looks even more excited when Steve approaches, leaps to his feet and doesn’t even balk at the fact that Steve is a head and change taller than him and a superhero—he just steps right up to Steve and jabs him once in the shoulder with a grin. 

“Captain Rogers,” he says, and sticks out his hand. Steve shakes it. The man points a thumb at himself: “Captain Freddy Harrison. A little after your time, sir, but an honor to meet you regardless.”

Bill is still talking a mile a minute behind him; Freddy sits back down on the couch and lets Steve continue his “Captain America Meet-and-Greet” but makes him promise to come back and swap stories, which Steve does, happily, even as his mind whirls. How does Tony know these people? Why are they here? Where did these prosthetics come from? 

Bruce has joined Natasha, standing apart from the rest to talk to her and her new friend. Steve stops to say hello, as is only right, waiting until he’s entered the man’s line of sight to do so. Only then does he realize that the man has no line of sight, because both of his eyes are prosthetic. 

“I’m not completely blind, Captain,” he says, voice low but good-humored. Next to him, Natasha smothers a smile behind her hand. 

“Steve, this is Sergeant Daniel Kwon,” Bruce offers. The sergeant smirks and extends a hand—the eyes in his sockets look incredibly lifelike, but don’t move even a fraction of a millimeter. They gleam, still, with an uncanny sense of knowing. Steve has a sneaking suspicion they see more than enough and match his original eyes perfectly. 

“I’ll still make an exception in your case, Sergeant Kwon,” Steve replies, shaking his hand, “for not saluting a ranking officer.”

Dan chuckles under his breath.

“Let’s see your battlefield commission and then we’ll talk rank, sir,” he says. 

“Ugh, men.”

Steve turns around, and there’s Tony, flipping shut a panel high on the woman’s left arm with a smile. He pockets the pliers and drags the back of his forearm across his glistening forehead. Somewhere in the back of Steve’s mind, a saxophone is blaring. 

Honestly, the intrusive thoughts he could deal with, but the fact that Tony looks this good after hours of hard labor really isn’t fair. 

“Seriously, barely two minutes in and you military guys are at it like frat bros at a kegger.” Tony looks sidelong at the woman, who rolls her shoulders with a pop and a groan. “How do you manage?” 

“Easy,” she says, “I let them drink until they pass out and then I run back to the women’s barracks with all their clothes so they have to walk across the TOC butt-naked.”  

“I think we need to compare our respective strategies,” Natasha says, taking Wanda’s arm on her way to greet the other woman. “This is Wanda; I’m Natasha.”

The woman turns to face them. Her features are striking in a way that makes Steve think of old friends from the war, men he met on those rare occasions he had leave. He’d listen to Native American Code Talkers tell stories of land and legacy and home, stories older than anything Steve had ever known. He’d never been so humbled. 

“Delores,” she replies, shaking their hands. “But please, call me Del, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Steve looks at Tony, who giggles—giggles—and mouths ‘Umbridge.’ Del must have ears like a bat, because she smacks him smartly with her prosthetic arm and Tony yelps before devolving into outright laughter. Steve could watch and listen to Tony laugh—that big, gut-wrenching cackle Tony thinks is unattractive but Steve thinks makes Tony look like happiness personified—all day. 

The conversation devolves quickly from there, and within a couple of excitable minutes, the airmen are eager to get a look at the Avengers’ game room. They pile into the elevator, talking animatedly over each others’ heads, placing bets and picking teams as the doors close. 

In their wake, Steve’s ears are buzzing, and he realizes with a jolt that he’s now alone. With Tony. 

It happens often enough that the fact itself isn’t jarring, but something about being alone with disheveled-frazzled-happy-sweaty Tony sets Steve’s nerves on high alert. Tony is loose-limbed and relaxed, moving in and out of Steve’s space as he picks his way around the living room barefoot, looking for discarded tools. 

“There you are,” he coos at a tiny device that looks remarkably like a laser pointer. Knowing Tony, it’s probably a real laser. He pockets it, assumably to put away later (or fish out of the laundry at the last minute). 

“Who are those people, Tony?” 

“Friends of friends,” Tony replies. Steve also knows Tony well enough to recognize his I am being deliberately vague voice when he hears it. 

“Uh-huh.” Steve sits on the arm of the sofa, legs stretched out in front of him. “And who are they really?” 

“Who wants to know?”

“Me,” Steve says gently, scratching his palms with dulled fingernails. “They’re strangers, and they’re in our home. I think if you were in my shoes you’d want to know.” 

Tony stoops to pick up and pocket what looks like a dissected nine-volt battery. Steve kind of wants to ask, but he’s too distracted by Tony’s ass in those black Levis to ask any cogent questions. Seriously, he wonders, are those painted on?

Only when Tony sighs, and quite heavily, that Steve realizes this was more than just a friendly house call (of sorts) on Tony’s part. He watches Tony stand up, facing the floor-to-ceiling windows bright with the glow of sunset, and admires the way Tony suits the view so perfectly. He looks good all the time, but like this—skin burnished gold, brown eyes honeyed by the light—he’s something else. Someone Steve wants, desperately, but like most things in his life, knows he’s not allowed to have. Tony Stark is beyond him in so many ways. Reaching for him seems futile, so Steve stays on the ground, and looks. 

Tony fidgets nervously with a mini Phillips Head screwdriver, twiddling it in his long, clever fingers as he stares out the windows at the city sprawled out beneath them. 

“They’re from the same company as the guys in the convoy I was with when I—when they—” his voice sputters out before he can say the words. Steve doesn’t push. He doesn’t say anything. He just waits for Tony to gather himself. It’s one of the hardest lessons he’s had to learn about Tony Stark—sometimes it’s better to let him get a handle on himself, rather than jump in and try to handle Tony for him. It doesn’t change the fact that Steve wants nothing more than to hold his hand, now that it’s hanging at his side like its string was just cut. “A while back I dug into Air Force records, talked to Rhodey, got some names. Five people died in the hit that was meant for me. I figured, the least I could do was find five of their closest buddies who needed help.” 

Tony glances back at Steve—the little smile on his lips could break Steve’s heart if he let it.

“And I’ve heard you talk about how convoluted the VA is when it comes to services and benefits and whatnot. I figured, my tech probably took their limbs, I should cut out the middle man and give them new ones, myself.” 

Something in Steve’s heart shifts irrevocably before kicking into a whole new gear. By the end of the sentence, Steve knows he’s going to do something incredibly rash, the only question is when. 

Funny—ten minutes ago he was coming back from a team exercise, prepared to give Tony a friendly but firm talking-to about missing it, and instead here he is, breathless, heart racing, sitting and listening to Tony talk humbly about fixing people because he knows it’s the right thing to do. Because it’s the least he can do. And isn’t that the wildest understatement Steve’s ever heard? 

As if anything about Tony Stark could ever possibly be least. 

“You built them all those prosthetics?” 

“Top of the line!” Tony smirks, saluting Steve with his Phillips Head. “Nothing more high tech in any of them than a heart rate monitor and some other odds and ends—no rocket launcher eyes, don’t worry. I kept my baser urges in check with these.” 

“It’s good,” Steve blurts out, too loud and too fast. Tony inhales sharply, fingers clenching around the screwdriver hard enough his knuckles go white. Steve feels his face go hot and groans. “I mean, what you did—what you’re doing—is good, Tony. It’s really generous of you to do that for those guys.” 

Steve crosses his arms across his chest to make himself feel safer, more contained. If he doesn’t, who knows where these ridiculous feelings might go. He feels silly enough as it is, blushing and stammering while dressed in his uniform, sans helmet. Even Tony’s probably wondering why he’s wasting his time talking to a red-white-and-blue fossil when he could be downstairs destroying Clint and the others at pool or showing the airmen around the tower, giving them the bells-and-whistles tour. 

Tony looks at the floor, away from Steve. Steve feels it like a physical thing, Tony pulling away, retreating, wanting to hide. Amazing, how a man who almost literally wears his heart on his sleeve still thinks he doesn’t have one. 

“Yeah, well,” Tony mutters, “it’s good practice, anyways.” 

Steve’s thoughts grind to a halt. 

“Practice for what?” 

Tony starts moving around, shuffling back and forth across the living room floor, looking for something that probably isn’t there. Steve knows when Tony is avoiding eye contact with him—it happens often enough. 

“Just a pet project, nothing major. Hey, have you seen my cable knife anywhere?” 

“Did you leave it on the floor? Tony…”

“I know, I know, the only thing worse is Legos, but I was busy! You can’t blame me for—OW FUCK!” 

Like a shot, Steve is up and holding on to Tony so he doesn’t hop backwards into the glass coffee table. One arm wrapped around his back and the other hand on his bicep, Steve steadies Tony as Tony searches underfoot for whatever hurt him. 

He comes up with a magnet the size of a dime. 

“Ha,” Tony wheezes. “Speaking of Legos.” He drops it into his pocket along with the laser pointer and whatever else is in there and hangs his head. Rubbing his brow, Tony says: “God. I could sleep for a week after today.” 

Steve keeps holding Tony. He should let go, but opportunities like this so rarely present themselves. Plus, Tony feels so good under his hands, strong and warm and just small enough to envelope in a hug if Steve let himself, if Tony wanted him to, and Tony does look dead on his (adorable, bare) feet…

“What else have you been working on today? This pet project?” 

“Hah?” Tony breathes, still wincing slightly from stepping on the magnet. “Oh yeah. For Bucky, when you find him. Ow, motherfucker, that hurt…”

The thing about being in Tony Stark’s presence is, it’s so easy to lose the plot. Tony’s mind moves faster than Steve could ever hope to match, mentally or physically; he’s always one pace behind, catching up. It’s fine, though; he actually kind of likes it, being challenged the way Tony challenges him, delighting in the push-pull of their banter and debates, the way Tony teaches him about science and tech and the 21st century without being condescending. Steve gets to a point where he thinks he knows Tony, how he operates, how his brain works—then moments like this happen, and it’s like he’s sprinted smack into a brick wall. 

“What?” 

“What?” 

“Bucky, you said—are you designing a new arm? For Bucky?” 

Tony seems to notice their position at that exact moment. Steve feels him blaze with heat where his hands are touching Tony’s bare skin. 

“Uh. Maybe?” At Steve’s look, Tony bites his lip and sighs. “Fine. Yeah, I am. Can you blame me? The thought of Sputnik wandering around the tower with that Cold War-era paperweight hanging off him when I’ve got brand-spanking-new, finely-tuned StarkTech all but ready to go? Perish, Steve, perish the thought.”

Tony is smiling up at him from his place in Steve’s arms, relaxed now, almost leaning into him, and all Steve can think is, he belongs here. 

“What’s that face?” Tony asks, curious but still smiling. He pokes Steve in the middle of the forehead with a cheeky grin. “Keep frowning like that, your face’ll stick.”

When, apparently, is right now. 

When Steve reaches up and takes Tony’s hand, he gets to watch Tony’s thoughts run into the wall, for once. 

When he weaves their fingers together, he gets to watch Tony’s mouth click shut and his eyes go wide. Super-hearing means he can count the beats of Tony’s racing heart without having to feel them. Steve’s telegraphing every movement, every feeling, as much as he possibly can now that words seem to have escaped him. 

He must manage okay, because the look that passes over Tony’s face is the same one Steve’s seen in the mirror a thousand times since the day he realized he was halfway in love with Tony Stark: wonder, one part lost, one part found. 

When he leans down, slowly, Steve gets to watch Tony’s beautiful eyes flicker and shut. He counts the dark lashes where they rest on Tony’s high cheekbones, breathes in his smell and listens to the shudder in his exhale before drawing him in for a kiss that draws everything else to a quiet, blissful blank.

When Tony pushes his fingers up into Steve’s hair, scratching lightly at the nape of his neck, Steve drops his arms around Tony’s waist and pulls him in close with a soft groan. He’s warm and messy and still holding that damn screwdriver, but he kisses Steve soft and eager like it’s the only thing he wants to do for the rest of his life, folds himself into Steve’s embrace like he wants to build a home right there in his arms. 

One day Steve will tell him he already did, a long time ago, and it wasn’t the least of anything. 

*** 

more fics on AO3!

[akaashisupremacy]

Chapter 2: Chasing Springtime (Summer)

Tsukki x fem!reader/Oc

genre: romance, angst, friends to lovers, lowkey nsfw (wc: 5072 lol)

Summary: Kei Tsukishima, now in college is reacquainting himself with a childhood friend. Old feelings that he has long shoved aside resurface.

Notes: Kaori Miyahara is an original character, but readers are free to put themselves into her shoes! There will be more chapters to come and let me know if you have any feedback or if you want to be in the taglist. 

Chap. 1 (Ao3) || Chap. 2 (AO3) || Chap. 3

Summer (July) || Sendai City || 2018

It was a warm summer evening in July. The gentle summer breeze swirled with a bit of humidity plied on Kei Tsukishima’s skin as he made his way into the train station. Usually buying a strawberry shortcake was an errand he readily undertook, but the day has been long and he was hungry that he was almost ready to neglect his errand. Besides, the anxiety building at the pit of his stomach as he walked towards the store was of no help.

As he selected a cake from the display stand, Tsukki tried to shake off his nerves. He was tired, worn and a little bit sticky, but today required special effort. Today was Kaori Miyahara’s birthday and he promised himself that he would surprise her with her (and his) favorite cake. He saw her regularly around the Sendai University campus, but he only ever hung out with her on Sundays. Today was Tuesday.

Tsukki was a second year college student playing professional volleyball in the Division 2 league. Since school was out, the training hours have extended themselves into the day. His schedule looked similar to a signed professional’s during his breaks, testing his stamina and his patience to their limits. His sport was fun, but sometimes it could be draining and Tsukki was the type of athlete who needed to rest.

The shopkeeper asked if he needed anything else. He requested for a candle to which she willingly obliged. He paid for his purchase and briskly walked in the direction of Kaori’s apartment which was located in a nearby residential street. He found his feet taking him into a dark brown door with a single pale of light lighting the doorstep. He rang the doorbell door.

A girl that barely hit the height of his chest opened the door. The smell of a maturing dinner wafted out into his Tsukki’s nose. He could hear the sizzling of meat and smell freshly cooked rice.

“Tsukki!” exclaimed a surprised Kaori. She looked like she just got home; she was still dressed in training shorts and her team shirt. Kaori trained with their university’s rhythmic gymnastics team.

“I didn’t expect you’d be dropping by,” she said. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the cooking, but her face looked drained. She too looked like she had a long day.

“I came over to drop this off. Happy birthday.” he said, handing her the paper bag containing the cake box. He tried to be cheerful in his tone, but Tsukki had never been great at being sunny.

“Thank you!” she smiled brightly, ”You really shouldn’t have-“ She stopped midway to take her cooking out of her pan and throw her windows open before rushing back to the door. The smoke from her pan had quickly filled her small room.

“You really shouldn’t have! I’m sorry to have caused you trouble on a weekday, I know how hard training is lately. Anyways, have you eaten dinner yet? Is your brother home for dinner?” she asked, with one hand holding the cake and another hand fanning herself. She had forgotten to put it down on her table.

Tsukki lived with his brother who was working in the city. They usually made dinner together.

Tsukki shook his head, “He’ll be out tonight. I’ll be heading home to get started on dinner. Sorry to bother you, I hope I didn’t distract from your cooking.” He shrugged his shoulders and put his hands in his pocket, slightly embarrassed that he had caused a ruckus in her home.

“Why don’t you stay over for dinner? I’ll make a little more teppanyaki beef.  Okasan came over last weekend and she brought over enough food to stuff my fridge.” she said, ushering him in. Tsukki tried not to show that the smoke lightly fogging his glasses was bothering him.  

Tsukki put down his bag and put himself to work. He filled two bowls with rice, plated some pickles and vegetables and helped her set the table as she made more beef. Kaori seemed to have run out of miso paste, so instead he made soup from powdered miso from her cupboard. This was the first time he’d been inside her home in the city.

While he helped her prepare their dinner, he quietly observed her little apartment, which was little more than a glorified room. Her dining room was her bedroom when her bed was rolled up. Her left wall was occupied by a desk and shelf stacked with books, memorabilia and some baskets of clothes. What looked like sliding doors to another room were where she kept her bed things and some clothes. Kaori was by no means big, but the room looked too small for her (at least in his eyes). The two of them making dinner off a minute counter quickly crowded the space.

Her apartment was drastically different from her old family home near Karasuno, just outside of the city which was a relatively spacious concrete home with wooden floors. The house had a backyard that was the size of a small half court. The house had multiple rooms and a wide receiving area. If Kaori did mind the size of her apartment, she did not show it. In fact, she was almost oblivious.

Once dinner was set, the absent sound of cooking begged to be filled by conversation. They sat down on her table on the tatami floor and began their dinner.

“How’s your birthday so far?” he asked. The table they were eating on was so small for Tsukki that even when his legs were folded and crossed, his knees would still touch Kaori’s toes. He felt conscious about touching her and moved himself back.

Kaori’s teammates had surprised her with some home-baked treats as birthday tokens, but other than that her training went on as usual. She proudly showed off some of the treats and told him a little about each team mate that gave it to her.

“How was your day? ” she asked in return.

“Nothing new,” he shrugged.

“Any ideas for internship plans for your senior year yet?” she asked. Tsukki was aiming to eventually enter a historical or science museum.

Kaori hesitated a bit, “When Okasan was here last weekend, she talked about her retirement plans. She is thinking of retiring in the Kansai region and I might move there after I graduated to be closer to her. I’m a bit concerned if I can get a job there considering our internship will be here.”

“So you’re moving again?” he asked as casually as he could. He could sense his nerves building while remembering Kaori’s last move. He had almost forgotten about that memory.

As far as Tsukki remembered, Kaori had moved a lot when she was in elementary. At one point her family lived overseas because of the nature of her Otoosan’s job. When she entered Junior High, her family moved into the house next to Tsukki’s family home. She stayed there until she abruptly left during their second year of high school which was the last time he saw her before college.

Kaori nodded, “Probably, if I can find a job in the region.”

Tsukki’s facial expression shifted. His face stiffened and then immediately erased any semblance of emotion.

“Is anything the matter?“ she asked, as she looked up from her food. She sensed his tension. She knew he was holding back.

“Nothing, it’s not my place to say. You should do what you like.” he said, shaking his head. He could sense his temper rising.

“Tsukki, I feel like you have something to say.” she said, treading carefully. Tsukki definitely had opinions even if he was quiet most of the time, “Just air it out.”

He put his bowl down unintentionally slamming it onto the table.

“ I can’t believe you’re moving…again! Every time things start to fall into place, you leave.” His voice was brimming with hurt and anger. His eyes were beginning to feel hot. It was taking all his control not to let angry tears roll down his eyes.

Kaori had never seen Tsukki so emotional. He kept trying to hold his outburst down without much success. Whenever he was disappointed or angry, Tsukki was always careful not to show it and now he had just exploded. She was stunned into silence.

“At least this time you’ve said it ahead of time, last time you didn’t even bother to say goodbye.” he said, crossing his arms and avoiding her eyes, “You just left.”

“Tsukki, I wanted to say goodbye. I had prepared to say my goodbyes to everyone -“ Kaori was pleading with her voice.

“You literally said goodbye to all you other friends except me!” he exclaimed with his hands.

Suddenly Tsukki felt like he was sixteen again, sitting in his high school classroom during lunch. He mentions to one his few friends that he had not seen Kaori yet after summer ended. A friend replies that Kaori had moved away during the break. Surprised that Tsukki had not known, his friend asked if Kaori had spoken anything about her move. Tsukki sits on his desk shocked and unable to process what he had just heard.  

Tsukki remembered being asked to walk with Kaori to school on their first day of Junior High. His mother informed him that their new neighbors had a daughter that would be attending the same school.

“Moving to some place is always hard, it would be nice if you can be a friend to the Miyahara girl.” she said.

Tsukki grudgingly obliged to walk her to school on the said day, barely talking to her on the way there. Although he only promised to walk with her on the first day, they somehow left for school almost the same time every day. And so for all three years of Junior High, they walked to school together. Their friendship wasn’t particularly chatty, but Tsukki knew about Kaori’s dream to qualify for the national team for gymnastics and secretly thought it was cool whenever she got invited to selection camps. Kaori learned about Tsukki’s admiration for his older brother who played volleyball and was not surprised to find that he had barely made any friends in his volleyball youth group.

“Tsukki, I think your experience at volleyball would be richer if you made more friends.” she said, looking up to the sky with her hands in her pockets on their way to school, “I wish I could have teammates, you know. In gymnastics even your teammates are your competitors so it can be difficult to find lots of support from them during high pressure moments.”

Some time in their first year at Junior High, Kaori was invited to a selection camp for junior level gymnasts hoping to compete internationally. She found the experience stressful.

“Then why don’t you just join a team?” he asked. That seemed like a pretty obvious solution.

“Coach says I can better polish my individual skills if I work alone. Group routines take longer to choreograph and clean,” she sighed, “Joining a team will require me to learn a different skill set too. We don’t really do teams for individual competitions if you’re qualifying for elite.”

“See even your coach thinks team mates are unnecessary for improvement.” he pointed out.

Kaori retorted that it was because she competed in an individual sport.

“You compete with a team. You can’t compete alone.”

“Whatever, I still think I don’t need to be friends with my team.” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

“It’s like you weren’t listening to what I just said,” she said with her hands on her hips as she stopped walking. Tsukki ignored her and continued strolling to the direction of their school.

“Hey! You can’t just pretend not to hear me.” she exclaimed, with her hands still on her hips.

“Yes, yes I can.” he called out, turning his nose to the sky.

“You can be such a snob sometimes,” she said, her nostrils flaring while running to catch up with Tsukki’s long strides.

Tsukki chuckled on the inside as he walked slower so Kaori could catch up.

They began drifting apart in High School when Tsukki could no longer regularly walk to school with her because he had morning training. Still they tried to keep in touch, Kaori would sometimes go to his games and he would keep tabs on her competition scores. After summer training ended in his second year, he noticed he hadn’t seen the light in their house for a while. He heard about her move at school and hurriedly asked his mother as soon as he got home to confirm if it was true. His mother validated that the Miyahara family moved away because her parents had separated. Kaori would be living with her mother, who got a job somewhere else in another city.

“I was so tired by the end of it all explaining why I was leaving them that when it came to saying goodbye to you, I couldn’t do it anymore. I was so so tired of having to keep explaining a move I didn’t even want. I felt that we had drifted apart and that was excuse enough not to tell you at that time.”

Kaori looked worn. She had not anticipated Tsukki’s reaction. With her back against the wall, she could not decide between letting Tsukki vent or airing her own frustrations about him. She decided to pick up another piece of beef and continued chewing, too tired to do more than ignore the conflict at hand.

“Kaori, we’re next door neighbors. Could you really not have said anything?!” he snapped. His eyes glared at her intently. Tsukki did not have many friends so he felt particularly betrayed by her sudden move.

His last line incensed Kaori. She forcefully stabbed her chopsticks into her bowl of rice and crossed her arms. She couldn’t believe he was laying all the blame on her. Part of the reason they had drifted apart was him too.

“Tsukki, we barely talked during High School. We were both busy and you weren’t making time for me either. Qualifying for Nationals in important and hard work on your end, but you can’t just toss people aside while you compete. You would never even talk to me at school, because you were afraid that people would tease you about it like they did in Junior High. It made me feel like you had outgrown me. Every time I tried to reach out it felt like you were pushing me away.

I know and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was only thinking of myself. I didn’t think you’d be so affected by my move. ” she said. Tears started welling up in her eyes. He realized too late that he went too far. Kaori was clearly hurt. His anger shifted to guilt.

“I was just so tired, Tsukki. My parents had been fighting all the time for years at that point and they were getting divorced during our first year. I was pretending that everything was alright even if I’ve been wearing thin all of freshman year.” she continued, not meeting his eye. She buried her face in her hands, sighing heavily.

Kaori knew from the moment she decided not to let Tsukki know that it would eventually backfire if they had met again and that moment had definitely arrived.

Tsukki slowly regained his composure. He didn’t mean to yell at her on her birthday. He hadn’t expected that he would be confronting the resentment that he held for her tonight and now that he finally did it his anger was slowly evaporating. He pulled the box of tissue beside him and handed it to her. He hated to cry and he even felt worse that he reduced her to tears.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lash out.” he sighed, his temper finally cooling. He stood up to make another pot of tea to make himself useful. After adding more cold water and some ice onto her small pitcher of mugi cha, he poured the drink into her cup and gently pushed it towards her.

“I was so hopelessly attracted to you for so long, but I preferred to just shove things down.  I liked you so much that I didn’t know how to deal with it when you suddenly left. At the end of the day, you don’t owe me an explanation. You don’t even have to apologize.” he acknowledged, nodding his head.

Kaori was quiet for a long while after that. At a loss at what to do next, Tsukki  awkwardly kept eating his dinner in silence. When they were done, he brought out the cake and lit a candle for her to blow. She looked at the cake thoughtfully and waited a bit before she blew it out. She silently cut the cake in half, giving a slice to Tsukki, who started clearing dishes into the sink to make room for dessert.

“Where do we go from here? What do we do now?” she said in a subdued tone, not meeting his eye. Dinner was so still that one could hear the soft clacking of utensils on plates. Tsukki was tempted to wash her dishes to avoid any more conversation.

The two only ever met up every couple of Sundays under the guise of aiming to explore more museums in the area. Any conversation they had were usually related to school work or their current living situation.

“Well…ahh” Tsukki stammered, “We always talk about what we’re doing now, but we haven’t really caught up on the things we’ve done when we were apart….”

He was conscious of his wording as not to put the blame of being away on Kaori, “Do you want to start there?”

What supposedly began as a quick weeknight dinner dragged into the night. Kaori narrated how she was injured through most of her high school gymnastics career from a combination of pacing, stress and growth spurts which made her determined to pursue gymnastics through college so that she could have another chance to rediscover her love for the sport. Since she joined her current team, her training was lighter allowing her to be healthier.

“I’m doing so much better I feel like I’m having a resurgence of sorts. Competitive gymnastics is not really a long term career so to still be doing this now makes me feel so happy,” her eyes glistened as she spoke, “I can’t do all the tricks I used to do but I’m the healthiest I’ve been in a long while.”

She turned around and lifted her shirt a bit to show him her back. It was a slim back with some athletic tape here and there.

“I used to be covered in tape, like it was the only thing holding me together. Now, I feel so much stronger.” Kaori beamed as she talked about her health. Tsukki vaguely remembered a time in High School where she lost her spark for gymnastics.

“I mean if you’ve been in sports rehab for most of High School I should hope you really did come out stronger,” he said, sipping his tea.

Kaori put her shirt back down and patted herself, “That is true, but I don’t expect you to understand since you’ve had a relatively healthy career. What about you?”

Tsukki was slightly taken aback but tried not to show it. He talked about qualifying for nationals all three years of his high school career and how he found his passion for volleyball. In Junior High, he felt like he was only playing because he needed something to do, but that changed during the finals for his first prefectural.

“Nobody thought we could beat Shiratorizawa High because they’ve been unbeatable in the finals at the prefectural level the past three years, even I thought we were going to lose. When I learned how to block his spikes and play against them, we won. That really changed the sport for me. It stopped being just a club. I realized how much I liked playing and winning.”

“It’s still not fun all the time, but it started becoming fun some times.” he added.

Tsukki briefly touched on how he was recruited to play professionally in Division 2, which was a far less exciting story than qualifying for his first Nationals.

Their conversation kept going and they began talking about their future plans for after college. Kaori explained why she was so adamant to be near her mother and how she found it difficult to be away from her so long now that she worked in another region.

“After my parents divorced, I felt very lost. I knew I was a child, but I had no choice but to be an adult. After she started getting part, I was set to start out college and she moved south. I want to get some time with my mom back. It’s very important to me Tsukki.

When she retires, she might not like it here in Japan so she might just move back home to be with the rest of her family. She said she might stay in Japan for a couple of years in her retirement to give it a shot.”

Tsukki stated that he would like to work for a museum and that he was aiming for Sendai City Museum. He wasn’t really sure if that would pan out with his professional contract, but he is quite looking forward it.

The night ended quite late with Tsukki standing just outside her door. He had felt much lighter than when he first stepped foot into her apartment earlier that evening but he also felt more exhausted. Not only was he physically drained, but the emotional weight of the evening was wearing on him.

“If you really want to move to Kansai, I’ll move with you.” he said in all earnestness. Tsukki caught himself after he made his promise, “Depending how things pan out I guess.”

Kaori was caught off guard. It was near impossible to get him to be expressive and vulnerable and here he was promising to plan his future with her.

“What about your career? How will you continue to play volleyball professionally if you move?” she asked, sounding concerned.

“We can talk more about this another time. I don’t have to play professionally. I can just find another league. I’m not sure I can keep playing like this after I do get a normal job.” he shrugged.

“Really?“ she smiled brightly.

“Kaori I just said I would,” he said, raising his eyebrows, his cool had returned after an evening of being unnerved.

“It wasn’t loud enough. Could you say it again? I don’t think I heard you right the first time,” she teased, laughing while cupping her ears closer to him.

“You’ll have to wait another day.” he nodded while tilting his head and turning his back on her, “See you on Sunday.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Summer (August)

Sendai City

2020

On a rainy August afternoon, the change of weather had finally eased the sizzling pavement of its heat. The unyielding sun and the dry air gave way to a cooler temperature made it an easy enough day to spend under light summer blankets.

Although there was a little bit of sun out, Kaori’s apartment was barely lit. Her curtains were drawn and the lights were off. The only sliver of light in the apartment escaped from a part of her window that could not be covered. The light barely grazed Tsukki’s head, illuminating the strands of his hair.

Despite the darkness, Kaori was aware of exactly where Tsukki was. He was laying on his side atop of her futon bed with a thin blanket covering most of him. She could see the outline of his toned body draped beside her. He had one hand on her waist and another running back and forth her hair and her spine.

“I called Okasan to tell her that I would like to work a bit in Sendai before I move to Kansai. I told her it might be easier to get my start here since I’ll be doing my internship in the area. She must have sensed that I’m seeing someone because she immediately told me to make sure that I put my career ahead of my priorities,“ she sighed her forehead pressed against his throat. She could feel his throat rise and fall as he listened to her.

“She went on a tirade cautioning me about getting into a serious relationship too early. She went on about me being in the age of curiosity - a time to explore what I like and don’t like. Now was not the time to be committing to something I might later regret was what she said.” Kaori murmured, her hand around his neck while she lay across him. She could feel his fingers continually running through her hair and bare back as she talked.

“I’m sure the advice was well-meaning.” he murmured into her ear, his fingers drawing shapes on her hips and lower back.

“Do you think she really knows?” her tone sounded a bit troubled.

Tsukki adjusted his glasses and gently pushed her away to look into her eyes, “She is probably just casting out a wide net honestly. I don’t think it’s anything to be worried about.”

In truth there was probably no repercussion if Kaori’s mother found out she was seeing someone. Kaori was just intensely private about her personal life and she felt mortified at the thought that her mother would know about her relationship.

“Do you ever get curious though?” Kaori asked.

“Curious about what?” said Tsukki, looking somewhat confused. He kicked the blankets down to his feet which were barely covered just because he was just too tall for her blanket. Kaori instinctively covered herself as her blanket slid down. Tsukki, grabbed his jacket from his side and covered her.

“What it’s like to be with other girls? Athletes have lots of fans, right?” she asked, only half paying attention.

Tsukki thought back to incidents with fans. He did remember hearing his name occasionally from the spectators during big matches. There would be girls trying to go up to talk to him every now and then and he opted to ignore them or shake them off.

“I don’t have the time nor the interest to entertain romantically interested fans frankly. Even when there were girls approaching me in high school, I thought it was just annoying,” he said, scratching his head, “I think Yamaguchi would have been a better audience for their attention honestly.”

Yamaguchi was his best friend and teammate from his High School Volleyball Club. One of his pet peeves was that girls would often approach him to ask about Tsukki. Tsukki felt that Yamaguchi was probably more suited to the attention Tsukki received from girls his age.

Tsukki was puzzled by the direction of the conversation especially considering how they had just spent the afternoon together. Just thinking about the intense pleasure he had experienced half an hour ago made tingles up his spine. How could he be thinking about other women during an hour like this?

“Are you actually jealous of my ‘fans’ ?” he smirked, then feigned shock, “I didn’t think you’d ever be the jealous type. My my!”

Kaori punched his ribs.

“You play in a Division 2 league, get over yourself.” she huffed, turning her back on him. Tsukki didn’t even play in the top tier professional league. There were more tiny children asking for his autographs than women shrieking for his attention. “You’re not Kageyama.”

“I’ve known you since we were in Junior High. If I was more curious I think I’d opt to look for someone I didn’t know as well or maybe a flashier girl…maybe I am the country bumpkin simpleton you tease me to be.” he said, “If country bumpkin equates to my lack of attachment to fame and attention.”

He tried to put his arm around her waist to draw her back to him. Kaori instantly swatted his hand away. Tsukki resigned to himself and lay flat on his back with his arms on his head.

“I mean I wasn’t even looking for a relationship, we kind of just stumbled onto each other. I really like you, I do but if we hadn’t been seeing each other I wouldn’t be actively going around searching for someone to date.”

He flipped the question onto her.

“How do you feel about your fans? Are you curious what it would be like to date one of the people cheering for you in the stands.”

“Not really? I mean I feel thankful and respectful for the people cheering me on, but honestly I’ve never thought about being romantically linked to any of them. Liking the same sport is not a good foundation for a relationship.

Also, the majority of gymnastic fans are either hardcore fans of the sport, former gymnasts or families of budding gymnasts. There are very few casual fans looking for a date in the audience, you know?” she said, turning towards him with her arms crossed.

“Oh wow, that’s very balanced of you.” he said.

“Are you not curious?” He asked, suddenly conscious of being her lover.

“Curiosity doesn’t always pay off.” she swiftly answered, “Every guy that has tried to ask me out either looks like trouble or believes me to be a different person from who I am.”

Kaori thought back to the time her friend tried to set her up on a double date with a guy that asked her to be more “kawaii” and lady-like because he felt she was taking too big a bite of her food. The boy thought she would be more attractive if she demurred herself. The experience made her shudder at the audacity of men.

“Does that mean I look like trouble?” he gasped, faking his dramatics.

“No, you’re too anti-social to cause trouble.” she laughed.

“Then are you not content with me?” he followed up.

Kaori quickly paused to think and said, “I am.”

Tsukki moved over closer to her, covering her body with his. Kaori wrapped her arms around his neck as he pressed himself onto her. He could feel her breathing in his skin.

“Then I don’t see what’s the problem.” he said, planting a kiss along her neck.

[lay-d-l]

Zoyalai Modern AU

This spring I joined @grishaversebigbang and for whatever reason I signed up as a writer. Not a very smart idea it was very stressful and I don’t even like it that much, but y’know, next year, I’ll be ready. 

I worked with incredibly talented people who are, generally the sweetest human beings you could meet. 

Materialki:

@someofgennie x

@edmeom x

Corporalki:

@shelbychild

Fic summary: Zoya was living day for day, not caring really, not after him. After she bumps into a guy at her favorite coffee shop, her life gets interesting again. Will she let herself feel again?

you can find my fic here *it’s not there yet, so if you wanna see it, keep reading*

It was a wet Tuesday morning; it had been raining all night and I wasn’t feeling like going out. But things happen 24/7 and that means reporters, like me, work 24/7. I wiggled out of bed and went to the bathroom. Seeing what I saw, I groaned. It's Zoya's-Famous-Bed-Hair. Once, in junior year, I woke up late and didn't have time for hair and makeup. So, naturally, I put on the first thing I got my hands on and ran out. Which is usually okay, right? Yeah, well Os Alta Speciality School has uniforms. Though, they’re not like Ketterdam ones. In Ketterdam, it's regular pants-shirt-jumper; in Os Alta they wore keftas. That's not the point, though; the night before, Genya and I were out, partying, so I wore clothes from last night's party. The principal suspended me for the day. This morning, I braided my hair, took my laptop, and left for the Dragon Scale. Dragon Scale is a coffee shop just around the corner from my apartment. Since I started drinking coffee when I was fifteen I have always gone there; it felt safe. Mostly because no one, not even Genya, knew about it. Just like every other day, it was almost empty. One person at the counter and a few others scattered in the back. I went to the counter and Anna, the barista, smiled at me. "The usual?" she asked. "You know it," I smiled back. "Could you bring it to me though? I have a lot of work today." Not turning from the shelves she said, "No worries." With that I went to sit by the window. I liked looking at people as they passed by, even when it's not a busy day. I opened the laptop and started writing: the elections are nearing, are you ready to decide between our two competitors? Is it going to be the cunning Petyr or the sly Nikolai Lantsov? I was never into politics, but Shelby, my publisher, insisted I write about this year's election. I love my job, I really do, but this is incredibly boring and the campaigns don't start until a few weeks from now, so when Anna brought my frappe, I looked to the street. I was like a less smart Sherlock Holmes. Meaning I can't really deduct, I just notice how people walk and dress, or if they have any ticks. Like if their left shoulder is lower than their right one. There was a woman in a hot pink coat, which was an unusual choice considering not many people wear bright colours at this time of year. A pig tailed girl who had stuck a lollipop to her mother's jacket. And a guy who was trying so hard not to be seen, but who obviously failed. With nothing else to do I packed my laptop, took my cup and went out. As I was turning to say bye to Anna, I bumped into a wall. I said, "Really? Couldn't have told me I'm going into a wall???" She started laughing hysterically. "What?" "Sorry to disappoint, but I'm no wall." I turned around. He definitely wasn't a wall. "Witty remarks are really unnecessary." I said. He put his arms up in surrender. "I am sorry that I bumped into you though." “Don’t worry, it could have been someone not as pretty as you.” “Thank you, I think. I’m going to go now. Bye Anna!” as I was walking out I heard Anna talking to the man.

Next day, I was sitting in the park, trying to write something on the elections but it was a no go. I was closing my laptop when I felt someone sit beside me. I looked to my right and saw the guy from the coffee shop. “What does ‘Z’ stand for?” “What are you doing here?” I asked, “Are you following me?” “No, I was walking, and I saw a familiar face, thought I say ‘Hi’. What does ‘Z’ stand for?” “It stands for Zebra.” “Really?” “No, of course not, it stands for Zoya.” “Oh that’s a nice name, is it yours? What does it mean?” “Yes, of course it’s mine. It means ‘life’”I said. “And you are?” “Nikolai.” he looked at his watch, “As much as I liked this encounter, I must go now.” “Bye?” He bowed to his waist, “Farewell.”

I snoozed my alarm three times, but it kept ringing. Then I realised it's not a regular alarm, it's a Genya alarm. "What is it, Kostyk?" I said into the phone. "Oooh!" she exclaimed, "Kostyk, that sounds nice. Not used to it though." "I know that's why I said it. What's the rush?" "It's Saturday." "Oka-" "ARE YOU TELLING ME YOU FORGOT OUR WEEKLY MEETING???" "Don't yell," I said. "Of course I didn't forget, you'd kill me if I did. I just didn't think it'd be this early." "Early?" she asked, "Zoya it's 11:00 in the morning!" "Oops? Okay, well, I'm obviously awake now, so what were you thinking of doing?" I asked. "The Zoo! Winter is coming, and I want to see all the summer animals before they stop going out." "Sure, meet you at the park in two hours?" "Yeah, love you!" she said, and hung up. I got up and went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. It was empty, guess I forgot to go to the store. So I decided to go to a bakery down the street, hoping they still have something warm. Luckily for me, they did. I bought two dollars worth of mini-whinnies and got back home. It was a relatively sunny day, so I sat at the balcony. And for a Saturday, it wasn't really busy. Besides Genya days, Saturdays are usually the farmers market days too. Most people don't have time to buy groceries during the week. I looked up to the Grand Palace. Tourists always said it was the most beautiful building in Os Alta, but I could never see it. It's not ugly, I just found the Little Palace more interesting. The Grand Palace is like any other palace ever, with big towers and shiny roofs, I can see that in any place that had a royal dynasty. But only we have a huge library with a fountain next to the royal Palace. I looked at my watch and yelped, I'm gonna be late!, I thought. I changed from my sweats and tee, and put on jeans, a jumper and boots, In case it rains. Took the leather jacket and keys from the hanger and ran out. The park wasn't far from my apartment so I walked. When I got to our usual meeting spot, Genya was already there. I waved apologetically. She rolled her eyes: "At least you're here, let's go!" "Fine, fine, I'm going!", I laughed. We sat in her car and went to the zoo. During the ride we talked about what we did during the week, how's married life and how's David in general, but all that was dropped the moment we walked through the gates of the zoo. First we saw the birds; pigeons, eagles and those funny colored ones that sing. Next animals were sheep, llama and deer. Their cages were around a pavilion that had horses and ponies you could ride, but those are mostly for kids. Few years back, Genya asked if we could ride but they wouldn’t let us. She said “it wasn’t fair that only kids can do fun stuff…” and continued to tell me how when she has kids they will be free to do whatever they want. We walked next to the deer cage. David loves them so every time we’re here we tend to stay a bit longer. Today we saw there was a new addition to the family. On the cage it said she was a doe named Lola. Next stop were the ostridges and the emus, we skipped those, mostly because one ostridge bit me a few years back when I tried to feed it. Genya got it on camera. On the other side of the sidewalk were the bison, and we always acted as if they were the flying bison from Avatar: the Last Airbender. We named all of them Appa. The seals were sleeping so we went to the reptiles instead. Most of the snakes were also sleeping, as was the aligator so we decided to skip the hippoes too and went to see the wolves. Though they didn't pay attention to us as they were eating. The monkeys were mostly shitting onto their hands and throwing it at each other… The petting zoo was empty so we had all the little goats to ourselves! When I was a kid, and my mom still my mom, I tried to take one of the goats with me home, but I couldn’t carry it alone so it stayed in the petting zoo. When we got to the bears most of them were in the water, but there was one who went in circles around his pond, like he was trying to catch fish. Lions were lying around, hyenas were laughing at the visitors, which is not creepy at all… At that point we got tired and went to the big pond where the ducks and the swans are. I sat on a bench while Genya bought ice cream. “Strawberry?” she asked. I just nodded. "So," she started, "you're not seeing anyone, right?" I choked, "What?!" "Are you seeing anyone?" "Where is that coming from?!" "David recently got together with a childhood friend and when he got home, he said you'd like him and that you should go on a date." she said, casually. "Genya, you know I'm not the one for dating…" She touched her eye-patch and looked away. "I know, but just try? I mean, just meet with him, then decide what to do. Not everyone is like Alex…" I sighed, "Sure, wh-" "REALLY?", she exclaimed. "Yes, chill. Who is he?" "Oh, oh… I have no idea. David just called him Sobachka, but-" "Genya…" "But he can't be bad if he's friends with David. If you don't feel like staying, I'll pull you out." "Okay, Pinkie Promise?", I asked, and she smiled, "Cross my heart, hope to fly!" We threw the rest of our cones to the ducks, passed the safari animals, and finished this year's last visit to the zoo. Next to the zoo is an empty parking lot that has a small adventure park. Ever since I befriended Genya, after the zoo we go to the ferris wheel and the bumper cars.

Since I agreed to go on a blind date I decided it was best to do it in a familiar setting. So I told Genya that I wanted it to be in a coffee shop near my flat. I put on my battle armor, jeans and a sweater, and went out. The streets were empty, even for a weekday. I went into the shop and looked around to see a familiar face. Anna, behind the counter, Gennie in the corner, drawing probably. I sat in my usual place next to the window and waited. Anna came by the table. “Hey, what can I get you?” I looked up, “Nothing yet, I’m on a date…” “That’s a new one, how did that happen?” “I was out with Genya and she suggested it. And it’s Genya, she thinks he’s good, and she would not stop until I said yes so I’m here to see what happens.” She smiled, “Well, I’m sure it can’t be that bad.” “Yeah,” I said and looked behind her, “Gennie’s calling for you.” She turned around, “Oh, I better get that, she’s trying out a new technique.” Then she left. The set time was 17:00, I came a little earlier, just in case. I took my phone out of my pocket to see the time. He’s late. Door opened and Nikolai came in, he looked around and rolled his eyes when he saw me. He came and sat at the chair opposite of me. “Honestly Zoya, is it not tiring to follow me? You could just ask for my number.” I scoffed; ”Don’t flatter yourself I’m here for a date.” His eyes widened, “Come again?” “You thought you were-” “You’re a friend of David’s.” “What? How do you know that?” I asked. He scratched his head, “I, oh Saints…” “You’re my date, aren’t you?” “I would seem so.” I frowned, “Hey, don’t look so pissed I didn’t know either.” “Do you want to do this?” I asked. “I don't see why not.” he said. “I have no expectations, we sit and talk. If we click, cool. If not, we had an interesting afternoon. Deal?” He put his hand out. I shook it; “Zoya Nazyalenski, nice to meet you.” “Nikolai, my pleasure.” he smiled. Anna came by again, “This, it’s hilarious.” she said. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks that.” Nikolai replied. She laughed; “ What can I get you?” “I’ll have a Frappe.” I said, “ What do you want?” Nikolai looked at me, then at Anna, “I’ll have what she’s having, and a plate of biscuits.” Anna nodded, “Coming right up.” “So,” I started, “do we start again, or do we just continue where we left off?” “We continue, can't pretend like you’re not my biggest fan.” i laughed, “Yeah, keep telling yourself that. On another note, how do you know David?” “We lived in the same neighborhood when we were kids.” he said, “One day, when we were 8, there was an explosion in his garage. I was playing in my backyard when it happened, I came running to see what happened, to see if he was okay. Spoiler alert he was, but I think he burned his eyebrows off.” “What happened?” I asked eagerly. “When?” I sighed, “What caused the explosion?” “Oh.” he looked confused, “I don’t know. I never asked. And how do you know David?” “I’m afraid my story isn’t so interesting, we met at highschool.” “You went to the same school?” “Yes but we were on different courses. I took journaling, he took engineering. He wasn’t social, I barely knew him before my best friend, his now wife Genya, worked up the courage to ask him out in junior year.” “Yeah, he definitely wasn’t a social butterfly. I was really surprised when I heard he was getting married.” “But I didn’t see you at the wedding.” I stated. “My father got sick, I couldn’t come” “I’m sorry to hear that.” he smiled; “I’m not, he’s an ass” “Who’s an ass?” Anna came with our order. “His father.” “My father” we said at the same time. I looked at him and smiled, he winked at me. “I see where you get it form” He gasped; “you didn’t” “I did.” Anna facepalmed. “I can see this is going great, so I’m gonna go.” “Thank you Anna.” Nikolai said. She waved him off. “Since we’re basically playing 20 questions, what else do you want to know?” I asked. He looked out the window, “Cliche, but, what is your favorite season and why?” “Winter, because there is nothing better than a wool jumper. My turn. Why does David call you Sobachka?” “This got very personal, very fast.” “Oh,” i said, “I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” “No it’s okay, no one is ever that direct with me.” he said and ate his last biscuit. “Why? Is it because you’re in this year's elections?�� “I thought you didn’t recognise me.” “Oh please, I’m writing an article about you and the other guy” “Huh, he really is ‘the other guy’” he said. “So, are you going to tell me what’s behind your nickname?” “Right, ugh, I’m not my father's son, my mom cheated. Not many people know this. The ones who do call me Sobachka, y’know, like a dog.” “That’s rough buddy… So it doesn’t bother you?”I asked. “No, not really.” I chuckled, “Not many people are like that.” Indeed they are not.” he looked at his watch, “This has been fun, but I’m afraid I must go now. I would like to see you again.” “I would like to see you too.” I smiled.

I was walking down the stairs when I heard my phone ring. “Hello?” “Hi, is this Zoya?”said the voice. “Yes, and you are?” I sighed as I got to the bottom and went to check my mailbox. “Is my voice so plain to you that you do not remember it?” “Nik, it’s not like I have your number saved in my phone. How may I help you this fine evening?” “I was wondering if you are free tonight? For a stroll in the park.” “We saw each other two days ago!” “Please? I need a friendly companion.” he paused, “We’ll eat doughnuts?” “How dare you use doughnuts against me?! Of course I’ll come. Meet in front of the Little Palace fountain in an hour? “Done. I’ll see you there.” I smiled fondly. “Bye Nik.” During the past few weeks I have been seeing him more and more. One Saturday he and David tagged along on our weekly meeting. I got out of the building and went across the street. There were lots of cars so I decided against calling a taxi. It wasn’t a long walk to the Little Palace, but I had to go to the Library first. There weren't many people in the Library so it was a quick stop. The Librarian, Kuwei, is a friend of Nina’s so I paused to chat with him, but he had work to do so I left him to it. When I got to the fountain, Nikolai was already there. I kissed him on the cheek and sat next to him. “What’s up?” He picked up a bag and gave it to me, “Doughnuts first.” “Honestly I don’t know how can someone not like you.” I said and took a bite of the doughnut. “So good…” “Me or the doughnut?” he asked. “What?” “You said it’s good. Me or the doughnut?” “Oh,” I laughed, “definitely the doughnut!” “HA-HA, very funny. Look I didn’t want to ask you, but I really need help with my speech.” I wiped my mouth to get rid of any leftover sugar and took out a notepad out of my bag. “Sure, what's it about?” “Well, this showing is supposed to be about children. Their education, the schools, hospitals, even orphanages.” he rubbed his neck. “That’s great, children should be taken care of, we know that first hand.” “Yeah, but I don’t know how to phrase it. I thought you could help with that.” “Of course. You’re gonna tell me everything that you want to say, we’ll write that down and work our way from there.” We were working on the speech until the sun went down. I looked up at him and said:”It’s getting late, I should go…” Nikolai scratched his head, “Yeah, no, of course, we’ll see eachother on David's birthday, right?” “Yes. This has been fun, I’d like to be more involved with your campaign if you’ll have me.” “You’re always welcome, always.” he hugged me, “I’ll see you in a few days. Bye Zoya.” “Bye Nik.”

“Botkin is making a reunion.” “What, when?” “I don’t know, some time after today.” Genya said. “Hold on, how do you know that?” “Didn’t he call you?” “Not that I know. Wait let me check,'' I took my phone from the table and looked at my phone log, “Oh, right I do have a missed call from an unknown caller. But do I really have to go, I mean I’ll see everyone I like tonight.” Genya sighed, “Zoya, it’s a party, you are going, you are going to have fun.” “But-” “End of discussion.” “EnD oF dIsCuSsIoN” I mocked her. “Oh, piss off. Just don’t be late.” “That’s you Kostyk. Gotta go, love you!” I ended the call. We are celebrating David’s birthday tonight, I had to go and buy him a gift. A normal person would have done that by now, but I just love to do everything last minute. I dressed up, took my wallet and went out to the hardware store. It started to rain during the taxi ride, I was, naturally unprepared for that, thus making me a bit damp when I entered the store. One of the older workers came up to me and said:”A bit unexpected, isn’t it?” “You have no idea.” I replied. “How can I help you?” “It’s my friend's birthday, and he likes to repair regular household items, or just make up new things, so i thought to buy him a new tool kit because his old one is really worn out and probably very rusty or just damaged.” “Right.”he said, “Would you like a completely new tool box, or separate objects and a tool box?” I looked around, “Well, if it were for you what would you get?” “Is there a price range?” “Not really, no. But let’s not make it more than a weekly paycheck.” After a series of isles and relentless explaining of different brands of the same monkey wrench, he recommended a box with wrenches of all sizes, seven different screwdrivers and some kind of special doorknob key that is also in different sizes and very useful. When I bought the tool box, I went to the liquor store to buy Genya’s favorite wine, but the rain hadn’t stopped. I was dripping wet when I came to their apartment. I knocked, twice, when David opened the doors, he went in for a hug, I put my finger up “No, no, we’ll do that when I’m dry.” He shrugged. “If you say so.” “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” “Thank you Zoya, come on in.” he let me through.I pointed my finger at Genya, “See, not late! And not the last one to get here.” “Not to burst your bubble, but you are the last one.” it was Mal. I looked around, Mal and Alina were on the couch, Nina sitting beside them. Toyla was on  the armchair next to the couch. Tamar and Nadia were on the loveseat opposite the couch, near the kitchen. Leoni and Adrik on the floor beside them. Genya was on a stool, her back turned. “No I'm not, Nik isn’t here”. I took off my jacket, and sat on the edge of the couches arm rest.. “Nikolai isn’t coming, his father got worse. Didn’t he tell you?” “No…” I took my phone out of my pocket, “I really need to get this serviced, don’t I?” Nina raised a glass and said: “Yes, yes you do.” I stuck out my tongue to her, “Shut up.” “To change the topic, Zoya, are you going to the reunion?” Leoni asked. I groaned. “Yes… But I don’t really want to.” “Why is that that?” “I don’t like people from highschool, plus, half of them hate me because I acted like a bitch. “ i said, “You all are enough for me.” “That’s cute.” Adrik said. I smiled, “Yeah, cute. And honestly what can we do there and not here? I mean the only highlight of that reunion is Botkin.” Genya looked at me, “Zoya. You are going. You can Ask Nikolai to come with you.” “I doubt Nik would say yes. It’s a highschool reunion full of people he doesn’t know.”   “You’d be surprised.” said Alina. “And with that comment we conclude this topic...” I said.

“That’s enough talking about food, It’s making me hungrier than I already am.” David said after an intense discussion of ‘Are Waffles Better Than Pancakes’. If you ask Nina, they are. Though, for Nina, waffles are better than anything. David stood up, “The boys and I will go to Jess’ to get pizza, you try to be nice and leave some wine for us, okay?” We started to laugh, “We’ll do our best.” said Tamar. “Oh, do you think Darina’s working?” asked Tolya. “Why?” asked Mal. “Well, she likes to draw, if she’s working, we could ask that she draws David with ketchup on one pizza, and write ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY’ on the other.” “Huh, could be fun.” said Adrik, as he went after the others and walked out of the flat.   “Bring umbrellas, it’s still raining!” yelled Nadia after them, “Idiots…” she muttered. I looked at Genya, “Kostyk.” “What?” “Go bring out the good wine.” I said. “Ooh, yes, bet! Alina, with me, we need to find the wine.” They stood up, and went to the kitchen. "Okay," Tamar started, "so there's this game Tolya and I used to play as kids, when the boys get back do you want to try?" "Yeah, sure." I said and turned my head towards the kitchen, "Girls, Tamar has a game idea, come here!" They stumbled back to the living room. Alina sat down and asked "What's the name of the game?" "Um, I don't really know? We always called it Nervous Breakdown, cause no one would believe Tolya, but I think it's called Werewolves." she said. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" yelled Leoni. "I think I know that game, but we called it Mafia. You played it with cards?" Genya sighed, "That's great and all, but we don't know how to play." "True." I pitched in. "Okay, so this is kinda complicated so no interruptions and questions are after I explain how the game works, cool?" Tamar asked. "Yes mom." we said in usion. "Genya, go grab the cards, rest of you sit around the table." When Genya got back and sat down, Tamar started to take the playing cards. She started explaining: "Point if the game is to find out who's the werewolf. We sit in a circle. Everybody has a card that's in front of them, that's your card and there's a card in the middle. After you see what's your card and  what role are you playing you put it down and don't touch it. You put your hand next to it and close your eyes. Then when I say your role you wake up and do your roles part "Since it's seven of us there's eight playing cards. Two Jokers, they're the werewolf, they change the middle card with anyone's card and touch the person who's card they changed. But they touch with the card not the hand. Nod if you understood." We all nodded. "Then there's a Queen, she's the helper for the werewolfs, she wakes the same time as them and does nothing during that time, but when we all wake she tries to convince the rest of us that she's the werewolf so we'd kill her instead of the real werewolf so that the werewolfs would win. "Then there's the Jacks, he's a psychic, he can see anybody's card and the middle one, but he doesn't touch and he can't see his card in case it's been changed during the werewolf time. "Next up is King, he's a thief. He changes his card with anybody's card and touches the person who's card he changed. And then there's the Aces who are villagers and do nothing." she finished. I looked at all of them one by one and started laughing. Everyone was throwing a fit, there were a lot of spilled drinks. "No joke now, I think we could try, but everytime someone makes a mistake we drink!" Nina said. "You're gonna be the first one!" We started laughing again. And after a few more useless tries, we got serious. They all had so many questions that took a long time answering, boys got back with food before we could even play. So as we ate, we tried to convince them to play, but it was useless since they were drunk off their minds. To be fair I wasn't much better. We spent the night eating and drinking. Mostly drinking. And eating. It was getting late, most of the group left. Alina, Mal and I were still at the flat. David and Mal were talking in the kitchen, Alina was in the bathroom. Genya and I were on the floor.“Zoya?” “Yeah?” “You’re drunk, right?” asked Genya. I looked up and back down, the room was wobbly. “Yeah, definitely.” “Do you like Nikolai?” “Of course I like Nik, he’s a great friend.” She shook her head, “Do you like Nikolai? Like, like-like.” “Oh…” “Well?” “I- no. Maybe, how does one know that? Is there a test I can do online?” Genya started squealing, “HA! I knew it!” She turned toward the kitchen, “I raise my bet to 20 dollars!” But I didn’t hear that. I was thinking of Nikolai, of his face when we see each other.

I came home from Genya and David’s. I showered and put on my pajamas. I fell asleep. I woke up. My phone was ringing. It’s election day. I fell asleep. I woke up. I tried to write. I tried to eat. I fell asleep. I woke up. I got another text. “We won the election. -Nik”. I fell asleep. I woke up. I failed to write. I failed to eat. I fell asleep.

When I finally decided it was time to get out of the house, I went to Dragon Scale. It was extremely windy outside so I put on a beanie. When I walked in, my head was bowed, I went full face into someone. “I’m so sorry.” I said and continued forward,when someone took my hand. I turned around and saw Nikolai. “Zoya.” “Hi.” “Why didn’t you answer my calls? Genya said you were alright but you scared me to death!” I just stared, "Zoya, talk to me!" "Can we go and sit?" I asked. He followed me as I  went to the corner booth and sat down, Nikolai a few steps behind me. "I got really drunk at Genya and David's. And I said something to Genya. And I got scared, because if it's true it might end bad for me, just like last time." "What are you talking about?" "i was in many relationships, but none were very serious until I met this guy, it was years ago, when I was in highschool. He was older than me, and I really liked him, at the beginning. But as it went on I realised he was being toxic. It… escalated." "Ecsalated how? Did he hurt you?" Nikolai asked. "No, not me, but Genya. You know that eye-patch she wears?" He nodded. "He did that, I don't know how, I was at work when it happened. I asked her to tell me but she refused, I just stopped pushing." I bowed my head. "Zoya." I looked up. "Nik, if I were to tell you that I was in love with someone, what would you do?" "I tell you that I'm happy for you and that he is an extremely lucky guy." He looked kinda sad. "And what if I told you that I'm in love with you, what would you do?" He shot up in his seat. "What?" I smiled, "I'm in love with you Nik." "I-" "Do with that what you will, but I don't want it, this, to ruin our friendship." "I'm afraid it did." He got up, leaned across the table and kissed me.

Next month was full of TV screening and restless nights as Nik and I wrote his speeches. But Botkins' reunion was soon, so he would take a few days off to have fun. I spent every free moment with Genya and Alina, shopping for the reunion. As much as I didn't want to go, shopping was fun. Genya found a dress in the same shade as her hair and Alina found a bodysuit in black and gold. I had a really hard time finding something I like. But the day before I found a perfect dress in victorian blue. Nik wore a gray suit and had this beautiful waist coat. When we got to the ball room in the Little Palace, it was already full, but we kept close to the outer ring. Most of the people were dancing, even Genya and David, but I went to talk to Botkin. "Mr. Botkin." He turned to face me, "Oh, Zoya dear, how has life been treating you?" That was his signature line, "Good. I just wanted to see how have you been doing?" "Never better dear." he looked behind me, "Now go off, there's a handsome young man waiting for a dance." "What?" I turned around and saw Nik. "Oh, thank-" he was already off to talk to someone else. I walked towards Nik. He bowed, "May I have this dance?" I looked around, nobody seemed to notice us. "Yes, yes you may." The music changed to a slow dance. We twirled around, and around. Once we stopped, I realised we were alone on the dance floor and there was a light on me. I turned to face Nik, but he was kneeling on the floor. "Nik," I said carefully, "what are you doing?" He took a box out of his inner pocket and opened it. Inside was the most beautiful emerald I have ever seen. I knew what it ment. “Would you do it?” he asked. I looked up at him, puzzled, "What?" "Well, y'know…" "No, I don't." He sighed: "Make me the happiest man alive. Would you do it?" "Yes." He got up and hugged me, I thought I was going to fall over, when these balloons started falling from the ceiling. I kissed him. "I love you." I said. He smiled, "I know." And kissed me again. When all the balloons fell, Genya came through. "Do you like it?" she asked. "What? Wait, how do you know?" "Oh silly we all knew." I looked around to see my friends standing around us, laughing. Mal said: "We had a bet on when are you getting official." Tolya raised a hand, "I won!" "You lot are unbelievable! Come one, you are being punished, this is a group hug!" That night ended up to be one of my favorites.

I didn't want to wait. We booked a venue for our closest friends. Genya bought me my wedding dress for "being strong, and being my best friend". It was a floor length dress with long sleeves. Top of my hair was in a bun, while the bottom part flowed in the wind. Alina even bought me a crown. I was walking down the aisle when someone came bursting in. I turned to see who it was. "I don't know why am I surprised, you always were a bitch." Genya answered, "What do you want Alexander?" Nik ran down to me and took my hand, "That's him?" he whispered. "Yes, stay here." I told him. "What do you mean "what do I want"? Isn't there a part when I get to the object?" I looked at him. "Alex, if you do not walk out right now, I'm gonna call the cops." "They didn't stop me then, they won't stop me now." "Ugh, you're so full of yourself." I said. Long story short, the cops stopped him. We continued with the ceremony. The priestess looked at me, then Nik and said: "If you went through that, on you wedding day, you can go through anything. Are the vows really necessary?" We shook our heads. "Then, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." And oh boy did he kiss me.

We're at McDonald's. And we're celebrating. Genya took her milkshake and stood up. Everyone followed her. "For our friends, may they have a long, happy life. Cheers!" There was a long choir of cheers going around. I sat back and looked at Nik and his Happy Meal, "Is it too early to get a divorce?" He looked me and said, with his mouth full of french fries: "Why'd gou go dhat?"

[underthemoon-and-stars]

Don’t Go... ( Bucky Barnes X Reader )

How was I inspired to write again idk but pwease🥺Take it🥺-Selenophile

Tuesdays. Tuesdays are the worst day of the work. Sure, you could argue it’s actual Mondays. The only two days of freedom are over with the arrival of Monday. But Mondays, the thing is, they’re expected. With the passing of Sunday you know it’s going to be the dreaded Monday. With Tuesdays though? Waking up on a Tuesday is so much more painful because you realize it IS a Tuesday. The week is no where close to done and from what Monday has done to you, you’re already mentally exhausted.

That was Y/N’s logic, at least.

It was a sunny Tuesday morning, though. The yellow ball of light crept into the room, warming Y/N’s semi-bare back. Cars ran through the Manhattan street and if you lived here long enough, you’d think it was a morning stroll. Business women and men dashed across the crosswalks even if the red hand was screaming at their impatience. Tourists crowded into muesums and iconic sights to get the best view they could. It was spring, but it wasn’t chilly. It was warm, very warm. 50°F levels of warm. If you’re not native to New York, it’s harder to understand. In a city that constantly ranges from 16-36°F, this was just a perfect day.

And Y/N would be stuck inside. She loved her job! She really did! But it was a Tuesday. Maybe she didn’t like Tuesdays because every Tuesday has been nice and she had been glaring at an artificial box of light, rather than the beautiful gift from space: the sunshine. Maybe paperwork from Monday caused her Tuesday exhaustion. She felt really bad for that one girl who came on a Tuesday. She explained everything that happened that week to her trusted therapist and god did Y/N start to doze. Not on purpose!

She just couldn’t work properly on Tuesday.

The Alarm buzzed. It was her favorite song signifying that it was 7:30. She rolled over with a heavy groan. Her finger aggressively tapped “stop” on her phone. Softly, she tried to slip out of the arms of her lover: Bucky Barnes.

Bucky had been an interesting case. Sam Wilson was a past patient. He had  severe PTSD from loosing his best friend in a “training accident”- his own words. Sam liked Y/N, he really trusted her! Once he finsihed his sessions, he asked Y/N to start hanging out with him. She approved, she always liked Sam. As they hung out more and more, Sam invited her to the best party in New York City- the Avengers Gala. She went as his “date”. The long red sparky dress caught everyone’s eye. It seemed like everyone invited went up to Sam and asked SO MANY questions.

“Who is she, Sammy?”

“When did you meet her?”

“Wait That Cant be your old therapist? Shes pretty!”

No questions were directed at Y/N though. She kinda felt a little bored. No one was really taking to her. Sam was talking to everyone and she was just hanging out there. She decided to look around and then. Oh boy and then. Her eyes caught the most attractive blue eyes in her life. They pierced into her soul, stole the air into her lungs, completely stopped her heart. There was a lump in her throat, a knot in her stomach, her head completely full of thoughts.

He smirked and strolled over. Y/N felt her knees buckly, so she grab onto Sam’s arm tighter.

“Y/N, what’s wro- oh I see. Buckys on his way”

“Bucky?” She mumbled, and looked right back at him. His long brown hair was slicked back and rested in a low bun at the bottom of his neck. God-his neck was so kissable. The semi-short king was dressed to the nines: blue suit, black turtleneck, a chain dangling from his neck. He had no clue what that look was doing to her. Her eyes then darted down towards his gloved hands. Maybe he just had some dry skin or...something. He stopped within a foot of you. Sam was talking to someone to his right, so you just started into his beautiful oceanic orbs. You could feel your body shake slightly. He was so...so handsome. And oh god, this “Bucky” knew you were interested. Y/N already knew she was crushing real hard.

Finally, Sam caught on. “Oh! James, this is my good friend, Y/N. Y/N, meet James”

“Hey” He spoke with such a deep,  sensual voice. Y/N would’ve collapsed to the floor if the man didn’t catch her before then.

“N-nice to meet you James...” She barely could shove the words out of her mouth. He pulled her close and leaned down.

“Bucky is just fine, doll” He purred into her ear. She crushed her legs together and completely fell into his well-defined chest. Y/N wanted to whimper, she was so weak. He knew it too.

“Can I borrow her, Sam?”

The fore mention man turned towards him “Be good to her”

With this new found freedom, she left one man who hasn’t really payed attention to her all night to the man who couldnt keep his eyes of her.

They danced. They drank. They talked and talked and talked. They even shared a small intimate moment with each other before Y/N had to confess her departure time approaching.

“You can’t have work tomorrow, it’s Tuesday. It’s Christmas Eve...” He mumbled into her neck, causing her whole body to spasm.

Maybe that’s why she hates Tuesdays. She had to leave Bucky for the first time on a Tuesday. And she had never been the same.

Anyway, long story short, they exchanged numbers and began dating in February. Valentines Day specifically. He showed up at her apartment with flowers and a blushy red face. They have been dating for 4 years since that day.

Since then, Bucky revieled his metal arm, got a new hair cut, and allowed his emotions to escape around Y/N. And Y/N has confided in him, got into shape due to Bucky’s hard core training, and finally felt what true love was.

Back to present day, she was so close to escaping Bucky’s large protective arms. As she gently slide out and away, she was immediatly brought back into his bare chest.

“Bucky, my love, I have to go!” Y/N pleaded as the soldier’s warm flesh and cool metal wrapped around her stomach.

“No you don’t you can stay here with me...” His lips danced on the back of her neck, causing a squirm and giggles to be realeased from his captive.

“Yes I do how am I gonna pay for this apartment hm?”

“I can pay for it... just stay home and cuddle with me”

Y/N turned around, rather reluctantly, and held her partners lightly scuffed, heavily sculpted jawline. Her soft pink lips pressed against his, taking in the chapped and ripped glory of his lips. Bucky planted his hands right on her hips, hoping to keep her in place. She was a fighter though, unhinging their lips once she had enough.

“Bucky let me goooo I have to gooooo”

“No!”

Y/N tazed her boyfriend, slipping away from his arms. She could hear his whines from the bathroom. This is every morning, she was used to it. Begging to come back to bed. Sometimes even picking her up and placing her back in the bad. Today she wasn’t prepared.

She finsihed up her makeup and looked out to check on her boy. He was sitting up on the bed, but there were tears in his eyes. Y/N took a gasp of shock. He turned to her, trying his best to smile through his tears

“D-Dont go doll...please” Her poor Bucky boy stuttered out. She couldn’t go now. He’s never responded this way.

Y/N slid into his lap, taking his hands. “My Love...talk to me...”

“I just...feel like we’re so busy I never see you anymore...You work Monday-Friday and I work Saturday Sunday. I just want a day to be with you...just one. That’s all I ask”

Y/N leaned forward and cuddled into his warm, muscular chest. Her soft hands reached up and wiped away the tears off his face. “Oh Bucky...I’m sorry”

He tucked his head into his girl’s neck. “I know how much we need he money...but I think at this point I can’t stand only seeing you for like 2 hours a week...”

“I’m sorry it’s so hard on you baby...”

He sniffled and nodded weakly. The way his head drooped was simple heartbreaking.

Y/N lifted up his perfect little chin. “I’ll stay home today. And then I promise you Bucky, I’m going to get a day off to be with you”

“Oh...oh thank you Y/N”

His body crashed on top of hers and they landed with a thud on their old, creaky, twin sized bed. Y/N’s hands found her way towards his hair. Even though it’s short, it’s still as soft as the day they started dating.

“Mmm you know how much I love that, Y/N”

“Of course angel, I’m here for you today”

Bucky looked up at her with those amazing blue orbs and smiled. His face perfectly slipped into the crook of her neck. That was his home for the rest of the day.

Maybe Y/N didn’t have to hate Tuesdays anymore. Maybe Tuesdays will be the best day of the week.

The day she gets to see her best friend, her lover,her angel, her Bucky Barnes.

Send all requests to the inbox!! 💌

[toohardtoforgetcth]

Too Hard To Forget

Chapter One

Warnings: swearing, angst, moody Cal cause who doesn’t love that, hospital setting

3,923 words

A/N: this is the first chapter of my musician!Cal series! there is a prologue too but it’s optional as it could potentially be triggering for some. it’s my first piece of writing i’ve ever posted so feedback is appreciated! hope you guys enjoy :)

Parker Daniels could barely keep her eyes open. She was at the tail end of her night shift, just finishing up her rounds before she called it a night and crawled into her bed. She didn’t usually work nights, but a colleague called in sick and she was the only one available to cover, so her typical ten-hour shift turned into a draining 16 hours. To say she was brutally exhausted was an understatement.

“Parker, honey,” Diane, the night shift office administrator, sounded softly. “You look beat. We’ve got things covered here. Go home and get some rest.”

Parker shook her head. “I’m almost done. Just have to give Mrs. Jordan her meds.”

“Hannah just got here, I’ll have her do it,” she insisted. “Go home, dear. You need sleep.”

Parker flashed her a grateful, but tired, smile. “Thanks, Diane. I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

She disappeared into the staff room to gather her things and exited through the back door of the building into the staff parking lot. The warm July air ruffled her hair as she dug through her bag for her car keys, the neon red lights from the emergency sign on the hospital connected to Westhill Retirement Home illuminating her face in the darkness. Parker unlocked the door of her black Honda Civic, dropping in and letting her head fall back on the headrest. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, then started the engine, grateful for the short ten-minute drive back to her apartment.

As soon as she opened the door, her grey tabby, Loki, meowed incessantly at her feet.

“Hi, handsome,” she whispered, crouching down and scratching his head. “Sorry I was gone so long.”

He trotted over to his food dish and sat, waiting for her. Parker filled his dish, dropped her bag on the kitchen counter, and shuffled down the hall to her bedroom. Thankful that she didn’t have to work in the morning, she washed her face, changed into her pajamas and crawled into bed. She was fast asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

• • • • • •

“I just sold out of my last copy yesterday, but we should be getting more tomorrow. I can set one aside for you if you like,” Calum offered begrudgingly.

Sometimes—actually, quite often, Calum wondered why on earth he had a job in customer service. His love of music drew him to Rudy’s as a teen, but now, in his mid-twenties, his cynical and less-than-sunny disposition made him question what he was still doing here. When he was a kid, he would spend hours sifting through the vinyl albums, fooling around with the instruments, and saving up his allowance for his first guitar and a new CD every time he could afford one. He gladly accepted when Rudy offered him a job, but it was more for the staff discount than anything—Calum really hated dealing with people. He had a short temper, and this particular customer was testing what little patience he had left. He’d been browsing around the store for the last half an hour, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem with this guy was that he was asking Calum stupid questions every time he tried to get back to work, like the prices and aisle location of every single record he was interested in, even though both were clearly labeled on signs above the shelves. Calum was getting annoyed—he had shit to do.

“Can you check in the back? You must have more somewhere,” the man asked, gesturing to the stock room behind Calum.

“Listen, buddy, I don’t have any more, in the back or otherwise. If you don’t want me to put one on hold, then leave and let me get back to work,” he snapped impatiently.

The man’s jaw dropped, shocked at Calum’s blatant dismissal. Shaking his head, the man left the store, muttering under his breath about disrespectful kids. Calum was hardly a kid, but he couldn’t be bothered to argue. He didn’t give two shits what anyone thought of him.

He was about to head back to the last aisle he had attempted to do inventory on, when Tom, Calum’s boss, cleared his throat. Calum whipped around, facing the old man.

“Calum, my office, please.”

Calum rolled his brown eyes, following the short, bald man into the stock room and then into the little utility closet that doubled as a makeshift office for the owner of the store. Rudy passed away earlier this year, and his jackass of a brother took over ownership of the shop. Rudy was much nicer, and although Calum didn’t particularly like much of anyone, he most definitely preferred Rudy over Tom. He wasn’t sure Tom even liked music. He gestured for Calum to sit in the chair opposite his desk as he sat in the armchair behind it.

“Calum,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his beady eyes. “If you don’t stop scaring away my customers, I’m going to have to let you go. You need to get your attitude in check.”

“My attitude? Dude has been hounding me for the last 30 minutes, Tom. I haven’t been able to get anything done. You want your customers inhibiting the productivity of your staff?” he replied sarcastically.

Tom shot Calum a disapproving look. “I mean it, kid. This is your final warning. My brother may have let you get away with murder, but I will not tolerate this kind of behaviour,” he said sternly with a wave of his hand, dismissing Calum.

• • • • • •

After cashing out his last customer just after eight, Calum shut off the lights in the store, setting the alarm and locking the front door behind him. He pulled a cigarette out of the pocket of his leather jacket, lighting it and taking a long drag. He inhaled deeply, feeling the nicotine drift down his throat and into his lungs. Calum knew it was a bad habit. Gram hated it. But it was a habit he couldn’t seem to kick, no matter how many times he tried for her. It calmed him, relaxed him. And after today, he needed it. He stepped out into the cool night air, one hand in his pocket as he walked, the other holding his cigarette. He finished just before he reached the front of a one-story brick building, stubbing it out under his boot as he stepped through the sliding doors.

Calum nodded his head at the receptionist, having walked these halls many times before. He turned left into the last room at the end of the hall, the permanent scowl on his face replaced with a genuine smile at the sight of the only woman in this world he loved.

“Hey, pretty lady,” he grinned, kicking off his boots and sliding onto the bed beside her. “How was your day?”

The old woman smiled fondly at her grandson, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “My day was just fine, dear. Got up nice and early, ran a marathon, found a cure for cancer, you know. Just small stuff,” she winked.

Calum chuckled, folding his hands behind his head. “Impressive. Wish my days were as productive as yours.”

Gram wrinkled her nose, catching a whiff of smoke from the cigarette Calum had just put out. “Oh, Calum. When are you going to quit that awful habit of yours?” she chided. “You’re going to land yourself in this hospital bed right next to me if you keep it up.”

“I can think of worse places to be,” he shrugged, resting his head on her shoulder.

• • • • • •

Just after nine, halfway through their second episode of Golden Girls, a woman dressed in scrubs knocked on the door to Gram’s room. Calum glanced up, shifting slightly on the bed to allow the nurse some space to look her over. She checked her vitals, then handed Gram a dixie cup with an assortment of pills, along with a second cup of water to wash them down. When she was finished, the nurse tossed the cups into the trash can beside her bed. Calum noticed Gram’s eyelids fluttering.

“Are you getting tired?”

Gram gave him a lazy smile in response.

Calum chuckled. He slipped off the bed, tugging on his boots and jacket. “Get some rest. I’ll see you Tuesday, yeah?” He planted a kiss on Gram’s forehead. “Love you, pretty lady.”

“I love you too, dear,” Gram smiled as he disappeared from view.

» » » » » »

Parker slept in late on Monday morning, a luxury she was rarely afforded. She woke up feeling rested and ready to enjoy her day off, which consisted of making breakfast, going for a run and cleaning her apartment. Around one, she stepped out of the shower, wrapping herself in a towel before checking her phone. She had a text waiting from her best friend, Jenna:

Yo bitch, meet me at Enzo’s. New café on Fifth. Lunch. You have half an hour. ;)

Parker laughed to herself. Jenna was charismatic and about as blunt and upfront as they came. She had a give-no-fucks attitude, and she was also one of the most genuine people Parker had ever known. They’d been friends since college, and no one in this world knew her like Jenna.

• • • • • •

“Hi, babe,” Jenna pulled her into a tight hug. “How’s life? How’s work? It’s been a long time.”

Parker laughed, rolling her grey eyes. “I saw you on Friday.”

“I know, I know. But it feels like ages.”

It was a cool, breezy day for the middle of July, so they opted for a table on the patio to enjoy one of the milder summer days. The girls caught up over nachos and a pitcher of beer. Parker was not, nor had she ever been, one of those people that felt satisfied after eating a salad. She was happy to work out regularly if it meant she got to continue eating the greasy, carb-loaded foods she loved. They chatted about work and family and how Jenna was struggling to choose between the three boys she’d been talking to. She was still rambling on when Parker became distracted by a tall, dark and handsome stranger, walking in their direction on the other side of the street. He was the textbook definition of a bad boy—dressed head to toe in black, complete with a leather jacket, a cigarette between his lips.

Jenna noticed Parker’s distracted expression, following her gaze to the dark-haired man.

“Uh-uh, no way,” Jenna shook her head. “Honey, that boy’s middle name is trouble.”

Parker’s grey eyes drifted from the stranger back to her friend, tilting her head questioningly. “Do you know him?”

“Of course not,” Jenna furrowed her brows. “But look at him. He reeks of heartbreak and bad decisions.”

Parker glanced across the street again, but the stranger had already disappeared. The girls paid their bill, left the café, and Parker never gave him another thought.

» » » » » »

Calum didn’t start work until noon on Tuesday so around nine, he decided to bring breakfast for Gram—coffee and donuts from her favourite bakery downtown.

He entered her room holding up the bag of donuts, and Gram’s face lit up. “Have I ever told you that you’re my favourite grandson?” she beamed, taking the bag from his hands.

“I’m your only grandson,” Calum rolled his eyes.

He sat on the bed and handed Gram her coffee. Around 11, a nurse peeked her head in the doorway. “Morning, Grace!” she chirped brightly.

“Oh, come in, Parker, dear,” Grace motioned with a wave of her hand. “This is my grandson, Calum,” she added, taking notice of Parker gazing at the man sitting next to her on the bed.

He was handsome. No, that didn’t even begin to cover it. He was gorgeous. He looked oddly familiar to her, though Parker had no idea where she knew him from. She supposed she could ask, but he didn’t look to be in a chatty mood. In fact, he didn’t look to be all that approachable at all. Parker took in the outfit he was wearing—black shirt, black jeans, black boots—and then her eyes drifted to the chair beside the bed. Laying on the arm was a leather jacket, and Parker noticed the edge of a pack of cigarettes in one of the pockets. That’s when it occurred to her—he was the stranger from the street outside the café. Calum glanced up and said nothing as he gave Parker a curt nod.

Grace elbowed him in the side. He shot her a look, then he stood, shrugging his jacket on over his broad shoulders.

“I gotta get to work, but I’ll stop by after, yeah?” He bent down and kissed Gram on the cheek. He brushed by Parker a little too forcefully without so much as another glance before he disappeared down the hallway.

Grace wore an apologetic look when Parker’s eyes finally found hers. “Don’t mind my Calum, he’s—” she paused for a moment, contemplating her words. “Well, he’s a little rough around the edges is all.”

Parker forced a smile. “He seems nice,” she lied. He didn’t seem nice at all.

Grace looked at her knowingly. “I may be old, dear, but I’m not dumb,” she chuckled. “I know he’s not the most pleasant, but he’s good to me, and that’s more than I can ask for.”

“I’m sure he’s lovely, Grace,” Parker assured her as she set Grace’s medications on the table beside her bed.

» » » » » »

Parker saw Calum several more times throughout the rest of the week. Although he clearly lacked basic social skills, noted in the way he gave Parker the cold shoulder every time she saw him, it was obvious how much he cared for Grace. Parker only ever saw him smile when he was with her. He was there twice a day almost every day—sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes for hours. Grace took every opportunity she could to tell Parker that he wasn’t all bad. She wasn’t convinced, but that didn’t stop her from trying to be friendly towards him, even when he ignored every attempt she made. She even talked herself into believing he was having an off day when he bumped into her in the hallway. He knocked everything out of her hands, including her coffee cup which spilled all over the floor. He said nothing—just continued walking like nothing had happened. People have bad days, she thought. But she was starting to think maybe Calum was just an asshole.

» » » » » »

Parker and Jenna were walking downtown, window shopping and wasting time in the sunshine on Saturday afternoon. Parker stopped outside one of the shops, grabbing Jenna’s hand and dragging her in. “I wanna get the new All Time Low album,” she explained upon seeing Jenna’s confused expression.

“Why don’t you just listen to it on Spotify like a normal person?” Jenna muttered. Why anyone would pay for music you could get for free was beyond her, but Parker just rolled her eyes and tugged her inside.

She browsed through the aisles until she found what she was looking for, bringing it up to the front desk with Jenna trailing behind her. Parker set it on the counter, waiting for the man standing behind it to finish what he was doing so she could pay. Parker found herself admiring him from the back, even though she couldn’t see his face. He had tattoos snaking up his hands and arms, disappearing under the sleeves of a faded black t-shirt. The shirt hugged his biceps tightly and he had a wide, muscular frame that was obvious even under his shirt. She didn’t realize who it was until he turned his head to the side.

Calum.

Parker blushed, embarrassed at herself for checking him out. She didn’t even know he had tattoos. She had never seen him without his signature leather jacket, which struck her as odd, since it was the middle of summer, and who wears a leather jacket in the summer?

Calum reached out, sliding the CD on the counter towards him, scanning the barcode without looking up.

She smiled her most genuine smile. “Hey!” she greeted brightly.

His brown eyes finally flicked up to meet hers, not a single spark of warmth in them. He took the debit machine out of its holder and set it on the counter in front of her without a word, looking utterly bored.

Parker frowned. She was becoming a little bothered by his blatant disregard for her. Did he not recognize her? She tapped her card on the machine, waiting until the approved message flashed on the screen before picking up the CD. She glanced up at Calum again, but he wasn’t looking at her. In fact, it seemed like he was intentionally avoiding her gaze. “Right. Well, see you around, I guess.”

Jenna waited until they were out of the store before she questioned Parker. “Was that—do you know that guy?”

Parker nodded.

“How? And more importantly, what the hell was that about?” Jenna demanded.

“I have no idea,” Parker admitted truthfully. “I met him the other day at work,” she explained. “He’s the grandson of one of my patients. Actually, I’ve bumped into him a couple times this week. But he obviously doesn’t remember me,” she muttered.

“Or,” Jenna countered, “he’s just a big ol’ douche with a stick up his ass.”

“Yeah, he’s a ray of sunshine, isn’t he?” Parker laughed.

“Hot as hell, though. I’ll give him that,” Jenna mused.

• • • • • •

Calum finished work late on Saturday night, after Tom demanded he finish the inventory that he couldn’t be bothered to do himself. Calum was already on thin ice with Tom, so in the interest of keeping his job, he kept his mouth shut and stayed. Calum hated most aspects of his job, but inventory wasn’t so bad. He closed the store at six and put a Radiohead album on the record player while he worked. He might have finished an hour earlier, had he not been distracted by thoughts of a grey-eyed girl with a pretty smile. He replayed today’s encounter back in his head. Parker was the last person he expected to walk into the store that afternoon. He was taken by surprise, even more so when she walked up to the counter with one of his own favourite albums. He had been rude to her—on several occasions—he knew, but for some reason he couldn’t explain, she rubbed him the wrong way. But Calum had to admit, Parker was beautiful. There was something about her eyes—steel grey with flecks of blue, and her brighter-than-the-sun attitude that never seemed to falter. Calum briefly wondered how much it would take to make her angry. She kept popping into his head at the most inconvenient times, and it pissed him off.

» » » » » »

Parker was sitting behind the reception desk, eyes glancing up at the sound of the front door opening. Her heart stopped momentarily when Calum walked in. She cast her eyes down quickly, avoiding eye contact. He said nothing to her nor to the other two women sitting behind the desk next to Parker, his path clearly set for Grace’s room at the end of the hall.

Parker had seen Calum at Westhill two more times since their meeting at the record store, and there was no way that Calum hadn’t recognized her—she deduced that he just wasn’t fond of her. He made that point painfully obvious, but she was bound and determined to change his mind, being that he didn’t have any good reason. She was perfectly polite and she took good care of Grace. Usually, Parker wasn’t bothered by people who didn’t care for her, but for some reason she couldn’t explain, it irked her that Calum didn’t. At noon, armed with her tray of medications and Grace’s lunch, Parker headed down the hall to Grace’s room with the intent to strike up a conversation with Calum and kill him with kindness.

As she was about to go inside, she overheard Calum talking to Grace. He didn’t usually have much to say—Parker could count on two hands the number of words she had ever heard him utter—and she was intrigued by the sound of his voice. It was deep and raspy, and Parker swore she could hear an accent she hadn’t picked up on before. She wondered why Calum had an accent and Grace didn’t.

Parker leaned against the doorframe for a minute, just listening to him talk animatedly to his grandmother. She wasn’t really listening to the words he spoke so much as the way he spoke them. His voice was surprisingly soothing, and for the first time she noticed he had an infectious laugh that made Parker smile.

She was distracted a moment too long because when she looked up, Calum was outside the door and levelling her with an angry stare. The smile slipped off Parker’s face immediately.

“You make it a habit to eavesdrop on people?” he snarled.

“Oh—no,” she tried to explain, looking down at her tray. “I was just—”

“Just what?” he cut her off, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just being fucking nosy and invading what little privacy we have here?”

“Honestly, I—I wasn’t—” Parker stuttered, but words failed her when he lifted his hand, slamming it next to her head on the wall. She wanted to kick herself for flinching—now he had no doubt she was afraid of him.

Calum leaned in close, close enough for Parker to see the spark of anger dancing in his brown eyes. “Stay the fuck out of our private conversations, understand?”

Parker instinctively backed further into the corner she had been standing in, feeling incredibly threatened by Calum. His expression was deadly—Parker couldn’t even utter any words to explain herself, looking dumbly up at him while her heart pounded and her hands shook so violently she almost dropped her tray. So much for convincing him not to hate her.

He lingered a moment longer before dropping his hand, the fire in his eyes burning into hers once more before he turned down the hall.

As soon as he was out of sight, Parker let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. She closed her eyes briefly to compose herself before entering Grace’s room, quickly setting the tray on her nightstand and leaving before she could say a word.

If Parker was on the fence about Calum before, she wasn’t anymore—he terrified her.

• • • • • •

Calum was beginning to get fed up with Grace’s irritatingly sweet nurse. Or rather, fed up with the things she was making him feel. He would be lying if he said it didn’t excite him, the way he got a rise out of her when he cornered her outside of Grace’s room today. He had seen her coming with that stupidly sweet smile on her face, and their encounter couldn’t have gone better if he’d planned it. She reacted exactly how he had hoped, and seeing the fear in her eyes—fear of him—gave Calum a sick sense of satisfaction. Maybe now she’d leave him the hell alone and he could let his mind wander in peace without worrying about thinking of her.

[wayward-musings]

Weeping Willow

Noon was the laziest time of the day for anybody who lived in my neighbourhood. It was the time of the day when streets were empty, roads deserted and, instead of children, lizards lay on the small rocks in the park, basking in the sun. But had anybody chanced to stroll by churchyard street that windy afternoon, they would have seen a greatly dejected figure shuffling along the lane, under the bougainvillea. Shoulders sagging, gait heavy and a small bunch of purple wildflowers clutched in one hand, they would have seen Tom Wylde walking to the cemetery.

It was a peaceful place, the cemetery. Long stalks of grass swept across the lush expanse, dotted in neat rows with headstones of granite and marble. The sun did not glare as it did in other areas, and the wind itself seemed to stand still - A cool draught sometimes chanced to ruffle the stalks of grass.

A tree here, a tree there, a grave in the shade. Another under the willow tree.

Tom Wylde looked across the field and began pacing.

First row, second row, third and fourth. Sixth from the left.

He stood there, looking down at the smooth, simple marble stone, the only mark his mother had left on the mortal world. Etched into the stone were the words :

Jessica Wylde   

May her Soul rest in peace.

He brushed off a few stray leaves and sat down. Placing the wildflowers on the headstone, he began.

"Afternoon, Mother," he said, "It's exactly the kind of day you would have liked. Weather's fine, too. Except my day's gone all wrong. " - he gave a shaky laugh - "I got fired, which means I'm unemployed. Unemployed - do you hear that, Mother? I've got no money for food - the landlord's been demanding rent and I've got no money to give him."

He sat quietly, his head between his knees.

"What did you use to say, Mother? 'This too shall pass.'  Well, Mother, it seems that this damn well won't. I shall have died of starvation in a few days." He began rocking back and forth, veering on the edge of hysteria. Tears ran freely down his cheeks. "Say something, Mother! Why won't you? Where are you when I need you? You left me when I was so young." - voice faltering - "Come back - I just don't know what to do." He dissolved into tears, and shook fiercely as his body was wracked by sobs.

Anybody who might have chanced to pass by the churchyard that Tuesday afternoon would have seen a man, broken by grief and misery, shaking and drawing in ragged breaths amid heart-wrenching sobs.

Tom Wylde wept his heart out, and just when he thought that he could not produce any more tears, he felt a small hand on his shoulder. He looked up, startled.

It was a young girl - no more than twelve. Her shining golden hair was pulled back with a ribbon, and she wore a spotless pair of dungarees over a bright yellow shirt. Tom Wylde watched, entranced, as the girl smiled, dimples denting her rosy cheeks, and then proceeded to sit herself down on the grass next to him, as if it had been her spot all along.

"I'm Willow Hillman. I heard you crying," she began cheerfully, as if she had not just borne witness to a mental breakdown. "And some of the things you said. Although I shouldn't have been eavesdropping. Everybody tells me it's a bad thing to do. I'm sorry for that. Although I suppose it's a good thing I heard, though, probably, otherwise I wouldn't have come here to cheer you up. Anyway, don't worry. It'll all get better. That's what my mother says . Here," She thrust a large, fluffy dandelion into Tom Wylde's hands. He looked down at it, slightly dazed, wondering why this little girl had suddenly decided to talk to him, of all people. Hadn't he scared her off with his breakdown? All the same, what was a twelve-year-old doing in a cemetery?

He looked at the dandelion and then turned his head to thank the little girl, but she was gone.

***

True to Willow Hillman's word, things did get better for Tom Wylde. For once, he decided to quit moping around and actually get some work done. He sent out applications for jobs and ran various errands for people to make ends meet.

Each day he went to the cemetery, and each day he was greeted by the same toothy grin and the same small hands holding a dandelion for him. 

He learnt a great deal about his little companion, too.

"Do you know how to make a daisy chain?"

Willow and Tom sat on the grass, plucking bits of it and throwing it at each other. Willow flashed him a grin. The sunlight turned her hair to liquid gold, and she looked as if she were made of the woods herself - a little nature spirit. It was just in the way she looked wholly at home in the meadow - regardless of it being a cemetery.

Tom smiled as he laced daisy stems together - the first smile of his in many months.

And truth be told, anyone who would have passed by the cemetery that day would have seen a tall and lanky man, running after a little girl, who curiously resembled a wood sprite- in the way the sunlight illuminated her frame; daisy chains tipping precariously on both their heads.

***

"Do you like trees, Willow?"

"My favourite is the bougainvillea."

"Why?"

" 'Cause it reminds me of myself. It's sweet and strong and it can stand anything."

Tom remained silent.

***

"You know, Willow, my mother - she left me when I needed her most. She died when I was eight."

"Really? Mine too!"

***

"I don't like cars."

"Why?"

" 'Cause one killed my mommy."

***

"It'll get better, don't worry."

***

A warm day.

A tall man, sitting next to a pint-sized child.

A young girl, with hair the colour of the golden sun, silhouetted in the evening light of the waning sun next to her newest friend.

Daisy chains, strung with threads of friendship.

Bougainvillea trees - delicate, yet strong.

Wispy white weeds, laced with self-discovery and blown on with gratitude for the existence of Nature.

The silken bonds of Friendship.

Peace.

Affection.

Hope.

***

Days turned to weeks, the sun rose and set each day as the moon waxed and waned through the nights - and it all led up to that one day when Tom Wylde was once again seen striding to the churchyard, this time with a spring in his step, a white envelope clutched tightly in one hand.

Tom Wylde had had none to share his happiness and sorrows with until a few weeks ago, when a little girl named Willow had waltzed into his life like the sprite she was, and he was bursting with joy and anticipation.

His days of sending out job applications had paid off, and Messrs. Barn and James had replied in the affirmative, offering a top-notch managerial position, saying that they would be 'glad to have you in our company', and that he was to start on this Monday the seventeenth of August.

Spotting a field of wispy white weeds - dandelions- he stopped to pick one for the little twelve-year-old who had brought so much joy into his life. He would never forget this day - the fourth of May- when things in his life took a different turn.

However, the moment he set foot in the cemetery, he sensed something was wrong. The air no longer stirred with the cool draught, birds remained mute and immobile, hidden among the dense foliage of the tall, lush trees. The whole meadow seemed to be holding its breath in anticipation.

All was silent, and no sounds reached Tom Wylde's ears - except one.

The heartbroken, gut-wrenching sobs of an inconsolable child. 

Panic and fear filled Tom Wylde's heart. The lone dandelion clutched in his hand, he felt as if he was in a daze. He felt his legs move quickly towards the source of the sound.

Later, he remembered seeing the sunny face that greeted him every day twisted into an expression of profound grief. Some distance away, Willow Hillman had looked up at him with a tear stained face and large, wet blue eyes. Her golden hair had glinted as it always did in the sunlight, and with one last smile - and one last tear trailing down her rosy cheek, she had faded away before his very eyes.

He stood, stunned - entranced, as the only thing that had brought light back into his dull life faded into oblivion. He felt himself walking, running to the spot where he had seen Willow. His head spun ; his mind was reeling. He was shell-shocked, screaming her name until his throat felt hoarse and raw, as though shards of glass had been poured down it. He felt wetness on his cheeks, his eyes smarting, the sun brash and burning against his face, the very last remnants of hope ebbing away from his soul.

He had never felt so heartbroken in his life. His bones no longer felt like bones, his brain felt useless and unable to comprehend this strange reality; and the world collapsed around him as his knees hit the grass.

His eyes fell upon a lone headstone of pure white marble before him - the very one he had been weeping over. Etched into it were the words :

Willow Hillman

Beloved daughter and friend.

You shall forever live on in our hearts.

Taken from us on this the second day of May.

Anybody who might have passed by the churchyard that bright, sunny Sunday morning might have seen a tall, young man, collapsed on his knees, staring dumbstruck at the grave in front of him as a lone bougainvillea petal fluttered down to rest on his coat-clad shoulder.

***

Fin.

A note: This is something I wrote a long time ago, when I had just started seriously trying to improve my writing. I think I've developed in some ways since then, but I think this is a good starter piece when it comes to posting my originals on Tumblr! (I'm on Wattpad as TheWodehouseAddict). I'd really like to thank @parkerpeter24 and @kelieah for encouraging me to post this! (Thank you so, so much for helping me break out of my comfort zone 😅)