#the blonde was so bright here though sigh i miss it this was in june so like right after i got it dyed

[zoeyirl]

your eyes are so unbelievably cute and pretty i wish i could get lost in them for hours ^^

Hehe thank u thank u..!

[21st-century-ninja]

Hello! I'm new to the Ninjago fandom and I love your writing. I hope I'm not overstepping but couldn't stop thinking about an AU where after Lloyd gets kicked out of Darkely's he winds up being taken in by Mystake - she finds him wandering around or something. And then Lloyd learns a bit about his oni/dragoni heritage earlier than in canon which may/may not affect the way the prophecy of the Green Ninja plays out.

hiiii anon who sent me this june 15th and has no doubt forgotten all about this: heyo super belated welcome to the fandom!!!!! the belatedness is all my fault for running away with this super-awesome prompt -- I ended up using it more as an inspiration than anything else, even though I tried to stick closer to it, but hey the inspo works where it will :D it's a super cool idea and if anyone else wants to take a stab at it have at it! I hope if you find this you enjoy it regardless.

change

There’s a boy staring at him in the tea shop.

Wu sees him first through the dusty slats of shelves, a popping spot of brightness against the time-faded walls and wood of Mystake’s abode.  He’s shocking, and not just because of his youth, but because for all of Wu’s years coming here, he’s never seen another person in the shop.

Who is he, he wonders, pretending to browse through packets.  A neighbor?  A grandchild? The boy doesn��t look necessarily like Mystake - Wu spies wispy blond hair peeking out around the edges of his hood - and Wu never knew her to marry, but then again he knows there’s much he’s missed in his old friend’s life.

He grips his staff at the flyaway thought, exhaling his inner turbulence the way Father always taught him to.  No.  The past is the past, and to dwell on it is just to waste time he doesn't have.  

He sets down the packet he’s holding.  He’s here for something specific, and it’s not something he can find on these shelves.

He steps to the counter.  Mystake is there, besides the child, and she lifts her eyes from her solitaire game when he drops his coins in front of her.  

“Well, well, well,” she drawls.  “Look who the cat dragged in.”  She pushes her cards aside.  “What do you want, old fool?”

Wu feels his lips twitch into a smile.  “Old, perhaps, but not yet as old as you.”

She barks a laugh.  “And yet you don’t deny the fool allegation.”  

“I would be a fool to do so.”  He sets his staff against the counter, and leans in to her.  “An order of eventualitea would be welcome.”

Mystake’s eyes widen, only noticeable to Wu from his decades of knowing her.  She gives him a considering look before nodding, once, to herself, and padding off.  Her muttering trails off as she disappears into the back.

With nothing left to distract him, Wu finally gives in to his urge to look at the child.  

He’s short.  That’s the first thing Wu processes, shorter even than he looked from across the room, and despite the large hoodie appears to be rather stringy.  His eyes, their color indiscernible in the shadow of his hood, dart away as soon as Wu looks his way.

Shy? Wu wonders.  Or perhaps just not used to people.  For a moment his heart had leapt a beat, seeing that blond hair, but this child is much too small to be eight years of age.

“Hello there,” he says, as the boy’s gaze creeps back up.  He musters a smile, but the boy’s eyes widen and he ducks his head.  Mystake, returning, looks between the two of them and raises a wizened eyebrow.  Wu clears his throat.

“Pardon me.  I was just trying to meet your companion here.”

Mystake’s eyebrow climbs higher.  “Hm.  Looks more like you scared him to me.”

“Hey, I wasn’t scared!” protests the boy, finding his voice at last.  His voice is nasally, and he trips over his words as he rushes to get them all out.  “I was just – just staying quiet!”

“And not responding to your elders?”  Mystake sighs.  “What did I say about being polite to customers?”

The boy stares at the counter.  “But you’re not,” he mumbles.

Mystake laughs sharply.  “Oh?  I see how it is.”  She turns to Wu with a dry look and the tea leaf packet.  “You must forgive my idiot apprentice.  He’s still new.”

“Of course.”  Wu pockets it, and smiles.  “He was no bother.  Thank you, Mystake.”

“Don’t mention it,” she sniffs.  “Just clear out of here before you wither away on my floor.”

“Hey!” protests the child, and Mystake smacks him on the arm.  He glowers at her, and Wu feels his breath catch.  Old memories stir, painful memories, and suddenly he doesn’t care to linger any longer.

“I will see you later,” he says, stepping to the door.

Mystake waves him out, not really paying attention as she starts bickering with her apprentice.  Wu shuts the door.  He closes his eyes, breathing out slowly again.  A moment passes, and then he takes up his staff and starts home.

It’s only after Wu’s halfway back that he realizes he never learned the child’s name.

---

The boy is gone the next time he comes.

Not that Wu was looking for him.  It’s just something to note when he enters the shop: the shelves are all stocked, flies buzz lethargically at the window, and Mystake is alone today at the counter.  

He idles by the front as Mystake gets his order.  The weather is turning warmer, and melting snow pools on the windowsill.  Wu tracks the condensation running down the panes, the way that the flies track water across the wood.  When Mystake returns to the counter to wrap his tea in brown paper, Wu turns her eyes to her curiously.

“Is your apprentice out today?” 

A familiar scowl settles across Mystake’s face.  “My apprentice?” she repeats, attacking the paper with scissors.  “Never had an apprentice in my life.”

Wu’s lips quirk.  “Of course.”  The game returns to him, the plot of a book thought long-forgotten.  “How my memory goes sometimes.”

“Hm.”  Mystake seals the wrapping.  She gives him a pointed look.  “Maybe it would do you well to take a break sometime, hm?” 

Wu leans more of his weight against his staff.  “If only I could,” he sighs.  “But no, I cannot yet.”

Mystake grunts.  “Ah, yes.  Your new students.”

Wu looks at her in some surprise.  Then he laughs deprecatingly.  “Of course.  They fought the serpentine first here, in your hometown.”

She gives him another meaningful look.  “Hm, and Garmadon’s son.”

Wu swallows.  “Yes,” he admits.  “That is true.”

“Hung him up on a bladesign, they did!” she says.  “Took me the better part of an hour to get him down, hmph.”

“You saw him?” Wu exclaims, forgetting his embarrassment and leaning forward with shock.  “You helped him?”

Mystake’s eyes track a fly as it bumbles around her head.  “Hm-hm.”

“Do you know where he is?”

She’s silent for a long moment.  The fly’s buzzing fills the air in the interim.  “No,” she says at last, and Wu’s heart sinks.  “No, I’m afraid I do not.”

“Ah,” he says, leaning back, depleted.  To have his hopes so raised and dashed again – but it’s not Mystake’s doing, at least not intentionally.  

He remembers his manners and how to smile.  “Ah.  Well, thank you for letting me know.”

“Cheer up, you old fool,” Mystake says, and gruffly she presses the tea packet into his palm.  “You’ll find what you’re looking for, or have one of my teas ever failed you?”  

“No,” says Wu softly, looking down at the parcel.  “No, they have not.”

---

There are rats in the walls.  

Wu hears them as he tries to meditate – can hear only them, despite how he does his best to keep his focus and center himself.  Tiny feet skitter at the edges of his consciousness, and tiny teeth nibble away at his focus until he can think of little else.  He attempts to power through for a time until finally he gives up, wincing as he unfolds his legs and stands.  His empty teacup goes on the table beside the near-empty pot of eventualitea.

Eventualitea.  Once, it had shown him a vision of his brother plotting his return to the overworld.  Wu had acted accordingly, gathering his four protectors of the Golden Weapons, and the vision had proved to be true.  By drinking that tea and bending his mind towards Garmadon, Wu had saved the world.

There’s no reason it shouldn’t work again, but the visions that come to him this time are not the same.  Confusing images assault him, blurry distortions of the world that make it look many times its size, and dark clouds hovering before his eyes.  Jumbled words, as if underwater, fill his head – and the squeaking!  The horrible squeaking that invades his ears like a creaky door being thrown about by a toddler – no, this time the tea is loathe to work, and Wu can’t comprehend why.

(Or, he already does and he simply fears the answer.)

No.  Such thoughts have no place here.  Going to his door, Wu throws it open.  Right outside, all four of his students startle.  

“Sensei!” yelps Jay.  “Hey, I guess that answers the question of if you’re alive, ha ha.”

“Oh,” says Zane, lips pressing together mildly in the way Wu’s come to recognize as his confusion.  “Is that what we were doing?  But I could have told you that.”

“Right,” Cole says, with the dawning air of someone who’s forgotten something important.  “Yeah, no, that makes sense in hindsight.  Next time, buddy.”

Wu shakes his head tiredly.  “Enough,” he says.  “What are you doing now?  Have you completed all of your chores?”  

“Yeah,” says Kai, ever his straight-to-the-point student.  “We’re smoking the rats out now.”  He gestures, and Wu follows the path of his hand, down to where the Dragon Sword of Fire is propped against wood still green and disappearing into a hole in the wall.

Wu’s not sure whether to praise their ingenuity or smack them upside the head for having it at the expense of his father’s monastery.  

“Yeah, look at them!” exclaims Jay, holding up his hands.  A small rat, so small it could almost pass for a hamster if it were not for the tail, struggles in his hold, squeaking up a storm.  Jay lifts it up like a prize, bringing it towards his eyes and cooing.  

“Don’t hold it right next to your face!” snaps Kai.  “What if it bites you? ��Do you know the diseases those things carry?”

Jay pouts.  “Aww, but they were always my friends back home.”

“What kind of home did you have?” 

“Enough,” says Wu again.  “Now is not the time for this.”  He surveys his students, the way that Kai scowls and Jay pouts and Cole rolls his eyes and Zane reaches out to take the rodent into his own protective hands.  “Thank you for doing this, but do not spend all your time here.  There are more pressing matters that deserve your attention.  Lloyd –”

“Is missing, we know, we know,” Kai says.

Wu sends him an admonishing look.  Kai swallows.  “Look,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest in a - most likely subconscious - attempt to make himself look larger.  “He’s probably still at his bad boy school, Sensei.  They just lied to you about it.  Like, isn’t that something a bad boy school would do?”

“That type of behavior does seem to align with all the presumed morals of a bad boy school,” admits Zane.

Kai claps him on the back, sending Zane stumbling forward.  “See?  Even Zane agrees with me!”

“Sensei,” says Cole awkwardly, “I get that he’s your nephew, but with all due respect, we’ve got bigger fish to fry.  More serpentine have been spotted at the outer villages.  Those people are the ones that need our help.”

Wu shakes his head.  “Of course we must help them.  But we also must find my nephew.  I’m disappointed in your attitudes, and yours in particular,” he says, turning to Kai.  “You know what it is like to have a missing family member.”

Kai reels like he’s been slapped.  

“Until Lloyd is accounted for, we will not stop searching for him,” Wu finishes.  “Do you understand?”

Cole exhales noisily.  “Yes, Sensei,” he intones, and the others echo him.

Wu turns to go back inside.  He hears Cole directing the others away behind him, and then the door shuts between him and he’s alone again.  

The last of the tea leaves weigh heavier than they should as he steps to the brazier for one last pot.  He waits for the water to heat, staring at the curling steam rising from the spout.  

That boy is the last of his family.  Without him, who does Wu have left?

The rats are silent as he reclaims his spot on his mediation carpet.

---

He returns to the tea shop the next morning.

Mystake is leaning against the counter.  She startles when he enters, springing to her feet and taking a step back.  “Oh.  You again.  Uh, hasn’t it only been a week?”

Wu nods, heavy.  “Unfortunately, my need for it prevails.”

He settles against the counter.  Mystake gets him his order.  She hems and haws over the register, chewing her lip as she rings him up.  “So, uh, what do you need all this tea for anyway?”

Wu sighs.  “At this point, I thought it would have been obvious.”  

She shoots a glance at him from the corner of her eye.  “Maybe.  But – but you should still tell me anyway.”

Wu shakes his head, long-resigned to the fickleness of Mistake’s moods.  “Aye, shall I?  What is there left for you to learn?  You know that I am in here to buy your tea every week, and also that my nephew is still unaccounted for, gone like a leaf in the wind.”  He bows his head, stares at his weathered hands.  “I must find him, Mystake.  He’s all I have left.”

There’s the sound of something dropping to the floor.  Mystake fumbles for the lid, returning with it wide-eyed.  “You want him?”

Is something not well with her?  Wu frowns, reaching over to help her place the lip on the canister again.  “I thought that had already been established,” he says a touch dryly.

Mystake nods.  Then she shakes her head.  “No.  No, I knew you were looking for him.  I just –” she swallows.  “Are you going to punish him, when – if you find him?”

“Punish him?” repeats Wu.  “For what?”

Mystake’s eyes skip over to the tea shelves.  “You know.  Running away from school and, uh, opening the Serpentine tombs?”

“Tomb,” corrects Wu, a little tersely.  “There’s no evidence that he opened any of the others past the Hypnobrai.”  He sighs.  “Maybe once, I would have.  But now –”  

He trails off.  How could he punish a child for releasing serpents, when he himself had done the same?  How could he hold a child accountable for initiating things beyond his comprehension, when he himself was the reason his father’s monastery was for long, long years so empty?

“You're the one who wants to fight his dad," Mystake says softly.  Wu comes out of his thoughts.  She stares at the paper-wrapped parcel in her hands, fiddling with the corner between her fingers.  “I just assumed –”

Wu’s heart pangs as it ever does at Garmadon’s mention.  “I don’t want to fight him,” he says.  Mystake, better than anyone else, knows the history of their relationship – has been there for nearly all the ups and downs.  “I still hold onto hope for my brother.  But even if his fate is doomed, that doesn’t mean I can’t save his son.”

“Tell him that,” she blurts.  

“Garmadon?” Wu asks.  “Aye, he already knows.  It’s one thing we’ve always agreed upon.”  His hands ache with the memory of casting his brother down, his heart with the remembrance the strangled promise exacted from him moments before the ground sealed shut.

Look how well you’ve kept that, he chides himself.

Mystake looks taken aback.  Her eyebrows screw up and she tugs her lip between her teeth, and she thrusts the packet of tea leaves suddenly forward.  “No.  Lloyd.  Tell him everything you just told me.”

Wu takes the leaves, laughing slightly despite himself.  “Oh?  And how do you suppose I do that, seeing as he’s the reason I’m here?”

He expects her to laugh too, or to shoo him off.  But she smiles a slow, tentative smile, and her red eyes finally turn to his. 

“I don’t know.  Maybe -- maybe he'll turn up sooner than you think.”

[ronearoundblindly]

The Stark Legacy (2)

Summary: Pepper Potts' funeral is accidentally interrupted by her daughter, Samantha. Tony struggles with loss. Bucky comes to the rescue.

Warnings: Canon-level violence, injury (vague description), blood, grief/loss. 15+ Rated Teen/Mature

One very, very important rule in this universe is that the super soldiers DO NOT AGE. It becomes a recurring thing that is both a blessing and a curse. Enjoy!

Funeral, part of Book 1: Reality (see previous or series)

CHAPTER TWO— June 2025

Sam peeked out the window to see the long line of black cars in the drive of Avengers Headquarters. The view from Natasha’s room offered a good spot to watch people arrive while a black dress was laid out for her. There came Peter Parker, then the Barton family, then Maria Hill. Happy Hogan greeted each arrival, signaling in the direction of the memorial.

“Come, Sam,” Natasha interrupted, “go ahead and put this on.” She checked a box by the door, adding, “and have you seen your shoes?”

“They hurt my feet,” Lil'Sam complained automatically.

“I know, but you only have to wear them for a little while.” Nat sat at the corner of the bed and reached to stroke the girl’s hair. “We should brush this before we go down.”

The young Stark had her father’s dark features, and her plethora of hair tangled easily. Natasha was worried she would hurt Sam by pulling so hard, but the girl seemed unfazed.

“Auntie Nat?”

“Yes, Sam?”

“Is Uncle Thor gonna be here? He’s funny,” she asked, smiling.

Nat sighed. Sam was excited to see all the family friends though unable to grasp the occasion. “I’m not sure, doll, but we won’t be playing today, okay?” She put down the brush, spotting the shoes Sam tried to hide stuffed beneath the side table. Nat dreaded how long this day would be.

There was a knock at the door, and through the crack, Dr. Banner’s voice gently rolled in. “It’s about time, ladies.”

Silently, Sam was rushed down huge windowed halls, everything suspended by gleaming metal. There was no casket in the room, just rows and rows of chairs. As she looked around, Sam seemed to just miss the gaze of everyone there, and when she found her father, his eyes were down, covered by sunglasses. Immediately to Tony’s right, Peter Parker stood, and once he noticed Lil'Sam, he swooped in to pick her up. She flashed a giant smile which he returned effortlessly.

Natasha kept her face stony and shrank ever so slightly as Bruce put his hand on her shoulder.

It was a sea of black swirling under white concrete, and even though Sam was propped up by this lanky man, no one met her eyes. Every cough and sniffle sounded like thunder, echoing off all the glass.

Sam, feeling tired, bored, and hungry, started searching for strawberry blond amongst the crowd. As she always did when she couldn’t find her mother, she reached for her father’s glasses and said, “Daddy, I’m hungry.”

Before her hand closed around one corner of wireframe, Tony swatted her away with a strangled “please.” The skin-to-skin contact made an audible slapping noise, leaving Tony more agitated than ever. He ordered Happy to take her outside, and while Peter made a very small protest, Sam was pulled from him and led out a side door.

There was nothing there but more glass, metal, and concrete.

“Wait right here,” Happy ordered, flustered, moving quickly up and down the hall, searching for chairs. “Stay there,” he sounded down the hall, disappearing around a corner.

Sam leaned her forehead against the window. It was overcast outside but bright, so she squinted, pressing her wrinkled nose against the glass. She fogged it with her breath several times before she heard Happy coming back.

He was slightly out of breath when he said, “all the chairs are in there, sweetheart. How hungry are you?”

“I’m tired,” Sam replied.

“You just told your dad—never mind,” Happy trailed off, looking about. Children were not his forte. “Tell you what, Sam,” he began, lowering his hands to his knees, “you stay right out here, sleep on the floor if you want, and be as quiet as you can, and after I get to say…a few words…” He stood straight up again, looking back at the double doors before continuing. “Then we will all go get some food. Does that sound okay?” He nodded his head before Sam even opened her mouth.

“I’ll be safe right here?” Sam mumbled.

Happy paused, a notable change in his expression, eyes not quite focused on her anymore. He sniffed, nodded once more, and turned around. “Right there,” he half-sobbed then opened the door just enough to squeeze through.

Muffled speech in low tones wafted down the hall.

It was soothing, like Dad reading quickly through a bedtime story while adding more side comments than the book was long. Sam sank into a seated position and then put her hand down to scoot away from the window.

She felt sand beneath her palm.

She looked, realized it was dust, fine and pale, and searched for more. Its texture was soft against the polished floor, leaving a defined trail when seen from low to the ground.

Ten feet away were larger grains and then just at the corner of the hall were pebbles scattered in. Sam stood slowly, sure to stay quiet as asked, and followed the dusty path. She was disappointed the rocks became no bigger three halls later.

The trail ended in front of yet another glass door, this one covered in fine dust nearly three feet high, finger smears around an invisible edge, and just at eye level, a blue pinpoint light parallel with the thick pane. The particles reflected the blue on its right side, but when Sam shifted her head, she couldn’t see any light. Curious, she pressed the sliding side so she could look more closely, but she quickly saw yet another light just inside the door. This one was red and flashing with letters above.

D-O-O-R-U-N-S-E-C-U-R-E-D

Sam looked around. Up on the counter by the nearest table sat a half-full glass of the deep green drink her father always served to people. She was never allowed to have any. Since no one was around, Sam stretched to reach the glass.

It was still cold. The condensation made the fine glass slippery, and it crashed to the floor below her small hands. Someone would be mad she’d made such a mess, so Sam frantically looked around for something to clean it up.

There were closed containers of bigger rocks under the next table labeled S-A-M-P-L-E-D. She recognized her name, then above them, Sam saw a cloth cover over a few more bins.

After ripping it to the floor and stomping down to soak up the green, huge saturated spots appeared where she stepped.

Fascinated by the shapes and color, Sam dropped to her hands and knees to watch her prints appear. Sometimes when she slapped a dry spot, she could hear the squelch of the wet.

The last time she hit the floor, she cut her hand. Pink dripped down to the faint green splotching, and as she slipped trying to get up using only one hand, she sliced her knee on more glass.

Suddenly she was really afraid. The floor was mostly dry, albeit covered in faint smears, but someone was bound to see things were not where they belonged. Perhaps if she put the sheet back, they wouldn’t be as mad? 

Sam tossed the cover back over the rock-filled bins. She looked down at the remaining glass on the floor. There seemed to be only heavy things on the counter, nothing small enough to move the shards, so she started pushing them with her feet. Her shoes already hurt, so when she was done, she yanked them off to tuck against the cabinet lip, hoping to hide the glass.

She could hear footsteps now.

To hide, Sam ran back to the last table, farthest from the door, and wiggled into a thick jumble of cables draped from ceiling to floor.

“I’m not troubling Tony with this. The upgrades were already postponed because of the holding site. Really?” Bruce moaned, standing at the faulty lock. “Undone by dust…” He continued to tap at the screen flashing red letters while speaking to the security officer who accompanied him. “How much longer do you think the memorial will go? I’ve got to get back to testing—“

Sam could hear her breathing. She anxiously covered her mouth, pushing a few cords out of her way.

“Whose shoe made that?” Bruce asked suddenly.

She shimmied her way farther into the cables, hearing tiny pops when she pulled her foot forward. Some connections became unhooked. Several instruments on the tables made different beeping sounds.

“What…” Bruce turned to check while calling to the guard. “Is that blood?!”

The dust on her hands tickled her nose, and no matter how hard she tried to hold it in, the sneeze shot through Sam’s sinuses. A clump of plugs came loose behind her. Lights went out and the minimal glow of security lights made Bruce’s shadow look larger than life.

“STOP,” came the guttural scream from across the lab, but when Sam tried to push her way out, something sparked above her.

“Code Green,” the security guard bellowed into his comms, “Main Lab now!”

She tumbled against one of the metal corners of a table, scraping her head on the way down. She hit the floor hard as Banner’s form shifted.

The shadow got larger.

Sam could smell smoke.

More sparks flew, momentarily lighting the hulking figure easily tossing tables aside. The fire-suppression system triggered, making it impossible to hear anything else.

Sam started to sob.

Hulk’s face lowered towards hers, his back flush with the spraying ceiling, beams above them creaking and bending.

“It’s my fault,” Sam screamed as loud as she could, “I’m sorry!”

Figures ran up to the glass; the door had automatically sealed with the fire trigger.

“Banner, back off! Hulk get away from her!”

The collective shouts became muffled by the thumping of watchers, helpless behind the barrier, then the terrible, piercing explosion of shattering glass.

Hulk didn’t move. He simply leered, watching her cry, an expression more akin to annoyance plastered across his broad face. Captain Barnes’ shield collided squarely with the massive jaw. Bucky’s huge vibranium arm promptly followed, connecting with Hulk’s orbital bone.

Sam watched the impact ripple across his green skin in the strobe of lights, confusion in the wide, pained eyes. She was sure she heard the snap of a bone, but whose?

The two tumbled to the other corner of the lab, dragging tables and equipment into a pile beneath them. Bucky slammed his full weight over and over again into the now shrinking figure.

“Stop, he’s my friend,” Sam shrieked, throwing herself closer to them. She could hear a growing chorus calling her name directly behind her.

Bucky lifted his head, flicking the long hair back, dripping from sprinklers, fist raised high in the air.

“You’re a monster!” Sam’s vision swung wildly even though she stopped stumbling forward.

“It was my fault,” she whimpered, falling, blood trickling down her face and neck.

Everything went dark.

A/N: After the next chapter, Samantha grows up super fast with some time jumps, so this isn't a kid fic, FYI.

[Ch 3: Safety]

[libraryofloveletters]

A June Wedding

Evan Buckley x Reader 

Warnings: alcohol and the consumption of 

Category: Fluff 

Word Count: 2.8k

Author’s Note: idk what this is, I opened the doc and just started typing, so yeah // the flashbacks are set two years ago, when y/n meets Buck. The end is back to the present

---- 

From B: I was thinking about you.

From B: I miss you. 

The phone sat in your hand, you stared down at the message on the screen. It had been months, maybe longer since you met him-  2 years to be precise. 

The two of you had a weird friendship to say the least. One of those “will they, won’t they?” kind of things. Everyone seemed to notice how the two of you were in love except the two of you. 

Your story starts in a hole in the wall coffee shop two years ago, when Buck comes in after his first shift at the station. 

*Two Years Before* 

Tired and hungry was a typical look you saw among the folks who came to your shop. It was downtown LA and there were a lot of businesses around including station 118. 

Among your typical morning crowd, there were people in suits and ties, the few hippies/skater crowd and your favourite, the fire-fighters. 

They were your favourite not because they always had larger orders but they usually left big tips and were super sweet. 

It was around 9 in the evening when the bell on the door chimed as it was pushed open. You were closing up for the day but the ‘come in, we’re open’ sign still hung on the window that was ideally supposed to be taken down an hour ago. 

Pulling a tray of cookies from the oven, you were startled by the door considering that you thought you locked the door. Peering from the doorway of the kitchen, there was a man by the counter, staring up at the menu board. 

“Hi,” you smile, hesitantly stepping towards the counter from the kitchen. He glances down at you and smiles, mumbling a hello. 

“Uh, we’re actually closed right now.” you inform him. 

His brows furrow, glancing over his shoulder at the window. “But the sign-” “I forget to take it down.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry, I’ll- okay, I'm gonna go.” he looked.. disappointed. He pulls a phone out his pocket and sighs. You take that moment to study him. A grey sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, there’s a hat sitting backwards on his head and a duffle bag tossed over his shoulder. As he turns to leave, you notice the 4 letters written on his hat in bright red - LAFD. 

“Hey!” you call out, “You’re a firefighter ?” 

The blonde smiles and nods, “yeah, I started today actually. The guys at the station were talking about the coffee shop down the street. I didn’t get a chance to come during the day so I thought I'd come now- but I can come back another time, you’re closed”

Waving off his statement, you pick up a cup from the counter. “Nonsense, I'd never turn away one of the city’s finest.” you smile, he chuckles. “The city’s finest is more of a cop thing.” he tells you. 

“Is that so ?” asking, you begin looking through the fridge to see if there was any milk, he hums. 

“I think you’re pretty fine yourself” you mumble, standing straight when you realize what you’ve said. Your back was to him, a blush burning up your face. 

What you didn’t know was that Buck was blushing too, a pretty person like you calling him fine was surely going to make him blush and that it did. 

Clearing your throat, you turn to face him again. He was looking anywhere but at you for the moment. 

“What can I get you ?” 

“What do you have right now ?” 

“Just about everything, except for baked goods. I usually put those in the oven in the morning but I do have a tray of cookies if you’re interested.” 

“That sounds good,” he smiles at you. “I’ll take a cookie and uh-” glancing up at the menu, “whatever is your favourite drink” 

Humming, you turn and head to the kitchen to get two cookies for him and then begin mixing some coffee and creamer in a cup, along with ice and some caramel sauce. You ended up making two, one for him and one for you. 

The man was sitting at one of the stools by the window. He was watching the cars drive past. “Here,” you slide the plate over to him and set the cup beside it. 

He smiles, “thank you. How much do I owe you ?” he asks, reaching for what you assumed was his wallet. “Oh, don't worry about it. The register is locked and it’s your first time here, I wouldn’t have charged you anyways” 

“You don’t charge first time customers ?” 

“Only the firefighters, y’all hold a special place in my heart” you laugh, he smiles once more. 

“Are you in a hurry to leave? I can take it with me if you are.” 

“No, you're alright. The cookies are warm, I just took them out when you got here.” you sit beside him, taking a sip of your drink. He also takes a sip of his, you watch as his face twists and he smacks his tongue to try and figure out what it is. 

“I call it the y/n special” filling him in, his brows furrow. “It’s basically just caramel ice coffee” a small laugh passes your lips as you take another sip.

“I’m y/n by the way.” “I’m Buck” he smiles.

--

From that day, Buck was a regular in your shop. You made him a regular coffee before his shifts, 2 cream and 3 sugars - you've come to realize he had a bit of a sweet tooth.  After work, he’d stop by for an iced coffee and a cookie. You’d always keep some in the back for him. 

This became a routine, you asked him for his number so he could let you know when he was on his way to work that way you’d have his coffee ready if he was running late. 

Most mornings you’d just get an ‘coming’ or a little fire truck emoji letting you know he’s on his way to work. 

Over the next year and a half, the two of you became close. All the guys that came in from the station always teased you about your “boyfriend Buck” although he wasn’t your boyfriend. 

The two of you were close, you hung out all the time - when Buck had days off, he’d still stop by the shop for coffee or just to see you even though he lived in the opposite direction. He would also pick you up after work when you could walk home because you lived down the street. 

You often stopped by the station when you knew they were on a 24 hour shift. Buck would text you hourly with whatever he was thinking about, especially during the nights when most of his team was asleep and he couldn’t. During those 24 hour shifts, the last few hours kicked their asses, everyone was tired and too lazy to move to do anything about it- those were the days that you headed into the shop early to get some stuff together to take over for them. 

Over time, the affection between the two of you became clear to everyone but the two of you. 

You only really noticed you liked him after his unfortunate run in with the fire truck and his promotion which you decide to celebrate with him. 

There you were, a bottle of champagne in one hand and a bag of Thai takeout in the other - the perfect thing to celebrate his new- temporary as he kept reminding you- position. 

He had invited you over to watch a movie but life was short as was recently reiterated after Buck’s “getting stuck under municipal equipment” phase as the two of you joke. 

“Hey!” he smiles at you when he opens the door, immediately noticing the bottle of champagne in your hand. 

“The nice stuff,” he hummed, stepping aside so you could come in. You set the bag on the counter with the bottle before venturing further into the kitchen to find glasses. 

“What are we celebrating ?” he watches as you tumble through the cupboards. 

“Y/n?” “What ?” 

“What are we celebrating ?” he asks once more. 

“Do you not own any champagne glasses ? All I can find are solo cups and those ugly ass mugs you have.” sighing, you grab the solo cups knowing his answer already. 

“Y/n/n, I'm a 20-something year old guy living by himself-” “What makes you think I have such things?” finishing off the sentence for him which makes him laugh. 

Setting the cups down on the counter, you push the bottle over to him. “Would you be so kind as to do the honours?” you hop onto the counter. Buck peels the casing from around the top and then shakes the bottle. 

Your brows furrow, “that’s going to make a mess-” before you finish your sentence, the bottle pops. 

The cork ends up somewhere in the apartment whilst the very expensive champagne is sprayed everywhere. Buck just so innocently titled the bottle your way, soaking you in the liquid. 

Laughing, you pull the bottle away from him. He's standing in front of you when you grab his chin, pulling him towards you. Your left hand is cradling his jaw and leaning his head back to pour some of the champagne in his mouth. You over poured and split it on his shirt. 

The two of you were a laughing, sticky mess and the bottle was already half way empty. He held the cups out for you, letting you pour some into each cup before handing you one. 

“Okay, now will you tell me what prompted the champagne showers ?” he smiles, leaning against the counter next to you. 

“Well, life is short. You’re a fire Marshall now so, I’m here to celebrate.” 

Buck smiles at you, he wasn’t the biggest fan of his new job to be honest. Sure he liked it, but he’d do anything to be back out in the field. 

Your arm stretched out, “So to you Mr. Evan Buckley, wait should I say Fire Marshall Buckley ? Anyways congratulations my love, you deserve the job but if the power goes to your head, I'm putting you in your place.” laughing, you bump your cup to his. 

“To a speedy recovery and hoping for your return to the field soon because you’re driving everyone mad. Cheers!” 

Both taking a sip before Buck hops up onto the counter beside you. He shifted slightly, making a gap between the two of you and pulling the bag of takeout to the spot. Dinner was had on the counter, eating straight out of the containers.

“Bobby would be so upset if he saw us right now.” Buck mumbles, his mouth full. 

“Mhm but he’s not here. He doesn’t have to know.” 

A few moments later, his phone began ringing. He pulls it out and his eyes widen. There’s a confused look on your face, waiting for him to give you some context or tell you who’s calling. Finally he shows you his phone. 

Bobby is calling. 

“You summoned him!” Buck shouted. You resisted the urge to laugh. 

“Answer the phone!” 

You watch as Buck answers the phone, holding back his laughter at the conversation moments ago. He looked happy, you loved seeing him like that. The way his eyes glimmered when he smiled that million dollar smile of his, how his curls showed when his hair was wet or if he hadn’t cut his hair in a while. 

It was the little things that made you fall in love with him. 

He was still on the phone when you decided you’d find something to change into. 

He watched as you made your way to the bathroom, coming back out shirtless with a towel in your hand, drying off. He noticed the way you took a step every two steps like he does. He could hear you humming from upstairs, the way you went up in pitch when you saw something you liked or how you’d stop in-between to start whistling. He smiles to himself as he ends the call. 

He too had fallen love with you somewhere along the line. 

----

You watched as the little bubbles popped up on the screen on and off for the next few minutes. 

Today was your wedding day. 

You hadn’t spoken to him all day, things had been hectic. You promised to see him before you got married but truthfully, you had been so consumed with planning and making sure everything was ready that you didn’t get a chance to. 

Your friend comes in, sticking their head in and smiling at you. “You ready ?” they ask, you hum before taking one more look at the phone. 

“As ready as I'll ever be.” 

It was a hot summer day in June, you and your fiancé had decided on an outdoor wedding considering you had always wanted a June wedding. 

Standing at the end of the aisle, each side of the yard was filled with people you loved and cared about but your love was smiling at you on the verge of tears at the altar. 

Resisting the urge to laugh at him, you smile as the music begins playing - your cue to make your way down the aisle. Making it to the end without tripping, you smile at him. 

“Hey,” you smile, reaching for his hand.

“You look beautiful” he smiles, he leans forward to give you a kiss when a hand against his chest stops him. 

Bobby gives him a disapproving look, “I’ll be fast but you gotta wait to the end to kiss them, Buck.” The statement earned him a laugh from the crowd. 

The heat was getting to everyone including the two of you so Bobby skipped over the unnecessary parts, letting the two of you say your vows. 

You started, your hand giving his a squeeze. “The day you walked into the shop, I thought ‘damn, I'm gonna die. Why do I always forget to lock the door?’ but little did I know, it was going to be the love of my life walking in. From the moment we sat down and started talking was the moment I knew you were the one- you made me smile, laugh, gave me butterflies but you also made me feel safe, like I could tell you anything and you’d always be there for me. I watched you walk out with the promise of coming back in the morning and I knew then, we were gonna have a June wedding.” you laughed. 

“You taught me what love was, how to be happy, to never give up no matter what life throws my way because for the last 2 years, that’s what I've watched you do and I'm so incredibly proud to be marrying you. There’s no one else for me. It’ll always be you.” you smile, blinking back the tears. 

“How am I supposed to compete with that ?” he hums, giving you a grin. 

“Everything about you is.. perfectly imperfect, in every single sense of the term. You strive for perfection, but you come up with a slightly different version every time and I love that about you- like when you run out of breath while singing you start whistling so you don’t lose the melody, it’s the little things that make me love you. You hold the stars and the moon, you’re my whole world y/n, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You make me a better man and I could never thank you enough for that.” Both of you are about to cry, looking at each other with the most love and adoration in your eyes. 

Bobby cuts to the end, both of you now impatient and waiting for him to announce that you were officially a couple and the moment he does, Buck pulls you towards him, kissing you like it was the last time he was ever going to. 

The sound of clapping and cheering filled your ears, making you both smile as your made you way back down the aisle officially as the Buckleys. 

---- 

taglist: @advicefromnixxxx @dralexreid @keenmarvellover @beth-winchester21 @fernandaweasley2 @yikesyikesyikes95 @hotchsdarling @duhbar1975 @hailsstormthings @averyhotchner @captainxholmes @venusrosepetal @luke-alvez @looney-literature @caitsymichelle13​ @artemishunter18 @multibuckley 

[skyward-floored]

@telemna-hyelle you wanted to see the first ever draft of brethren in a cradle?

Here you go :D

it’s a little choppy, and obviously wasn’t supposed to be the first chapter, but it’s interesting to see what I kept and what changed in the actual fic (and a few things I haven’t put in yet).

(The date on this was June 21, 2021. I did not realize it was that long ago I started to write this o_o)

———————————————————

“Guys what the heck?!”

Wind’s shouts made Twilight snap his head up. Warriors and Wild had finally returned, and were currently holding a small smoky bundle. Well, Wild was holding the bundle, Warriors was shushing Wind and trying to calm him down. It was too late though. Before long the entire camp had converged on the two knights and were bombarding them with questions.

“What’s going on? What did you guys find?”

“What took you so long? Only the Old Man’s group isn’t back yet!”

“What’s with the rags?”

“Is that a baby?”

Silence fell over the clearing at the last question, and Twilight finally stepped forward to put a hand on the bundle.

“Great Farore above,” he muttered in shock as a small hand appeared from beneath the messy folds.

All of the Links present immediately burst into an uproar.

Wild ignored the noise and gently pulled the cloth farther down, revealing bright blue eyes peeking out from underneath a mop of sooty blond hair.

“We found him in the last house we searched,” began Warriors in in a soft voice to Twilight as Wild desperately tried to field the others questions. “I don’t know how he survived honestly; the place was half gone and an entire bookshelf missed where he was lying by centimeters.”

He sighed, brushing some ashes from his scarf. Twilight gently took the small bundle from Wild, wiping some soot off of the child’s face as he did so.

“We’ve swept this whole town,” Warriors continued, “if anyone else had survived we would have found them by now,” he finished with a resigned look in his eyes.

Twilight felt a familiar weight settle in his stomach. He knew they weren’t fast enough, he should’ve gone ahead, he should’ve-

“Rancher I know what you’re thinking. There’s no way we could have made it here in time, you know that,” said Warriors gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. “don’t blame yourself.”

Twilight stared down at the bundle in his lap and nodded, sighing quietly.

“I know Captain.”

He watched the baby for a moment, then looked up at the Warriors, frowning as he saw something in his eyes.

“Are you alright?” Twilight ventured.

Warriors’ hand was fisted tightly in his scarf, his face creased into a tight frown as he looked at his boots.

”I’m fine Rancher. I just, I- this just-“ he cut off, frowning as he stared down at his hands. “...this reminds me too much of the war,” he muttered. “too many innocent villages caught in the crossfire without any say in it.”

Warriors was silent for a moment before a frustrated growl escaped his lips. “I just wish we could’ve-“

“Um, hello?” interjected Legend, tired of his questions remaining unanswered. “anybody know what we’re going to do with this baby exactly? We’re kind of on a world-saving quest, hunting for monsters, and fighting for our lives in case you didn’t notice. We can’t take him with us!”

Wild frowned at him. “Well we can’t just leave him here, maybe we should-“

“We have to bring him!” interrupted Wind. “There’s nowhere else for him to go!”

The clearing dissolved into arguments again as Twilight stared down at the baby quietly sucking on his thumb, Warriors tiredly watching the debate.

The child looked up at him and smiled sleepily, doubtless happy to be around people again after being alone for so long. Twilight felt his mouth upturn as he watched the little guy start to fall asleep, for some reason lulled by the sounds of the arguing heroes.

His suddenly found his thoughts turning to his own family. Was Uli’s baby doing all right? He hoped Rusl and Colin didn’t miss him too much. He wondered if Fado was managing to keep the goats contained for once, and if Ilia-

He was broken from his musings by Time, Sky, and Four returning to camp.

Four furrowed his brow at the chaos in front of him as the three walked in, a hand raised to scratch his chin.

“What happened here?” He asked Hyrule, who hadn’t joined the argument. The Traveler wordlessly pointed at Warriors and Twilight, the latter of whom gave an awkward little wave at Time.

Twilight wished he’d had Wild’s slate at that moment; the look on his mentor’s face was priceless as he caught sight of the baby in his protégé’s lap.

“Rancher,” he said in a strained voice. “Where did you get-”

Twilight shrugged. “The Cook found him.”

Time stared at him for a moment then sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“Of course he did.”

He walked over and sat down on the log next to Twilight, looking down at the now sound asleep baby in his arms. Warriors, Four and Sky all glanced at each other, then went to try and settle (or join) the rapidly escalating argument behind them.

“Did they find any other survivors?” Time asked Twilight, the tone of his voice suggesting he already knew the answer.

Twilight shook his head.

“No.” He answered heavily. “he’s the only one. We’ve looked all over, there’s nobody left. It’s a miracle the Champion found him at all.”

Time nodded solemnly and closed his eyes, looking lost in thought.

“I suppose we’ll have to figure out if he has any relatives living elsewhere, or any villagers who may have fled...” he began after a moment. “I just don’t know how we’re going to be able to take him with us. We’re hardly equipped to handle caring for a baby, even if it’s only for a short while.”

“With all do respect old man, I don’t think we really have a choice,” declared Twilight, dusting more soot off of the baby. “we’ll just have to hope there’s another village nearby with someone willing to take him in.”

Time frowned, rubbing his face tiredly. “I suppose so. We’d better make camp here for tonight, we can figure out a more definitive plan in the morning.”

Twilight nodded and handed the baby over to Time, hiding a smile as the old man struggled awkwardly for a moment. “I’ll take him back in a minute, calm down old man. I was just going to see if Wild had any milk he could drink when he wakes up.”

Time leveled him with a strangely pouty look. “I am perfectly calm and capable of holding a baby for a few minutes, Rancher.”

Twilight grinned and clapped him on the back. “Sure thing old man, sure thing.”

Time stared down at the sleeping bundle in his lap as Twilight walked away. The baby had started to drool in his sleep, a smile gracing his tiny features through the ash and soot that still clung to his face.

Time sighed heavily.

“I’m getting too old for this.”

[ghost-thot69]

(I wrote this while very tired so it won’t be the best but the fanfic fingers don’t stop for anyone so I wrote some very cute rz Michael Myers and baby june fanfic after reading some fluffy fanfics of him)

Sunny Days (rz Michael Myers and June Marie Heisenberg-Myers)

TW: none. Nothing but sheer adorableness, proceed with caution ⚠️

The sun beamed down on Michael’s face. His long, unkempt, blond hair shining in the bright light as he waited outside of Westfield Elementary school. He stood as stiff as a board, except for his left foot, which he kept tapping repeatedly as he waited for June to come out of school.

He looked up at the giant clock on the outside of the school building, impatiently counting down the minutes, hell even the seconds till all the children came flooding out. A couple of parents would stare at him in intimidation. They, despite not knowing that he was a local mass murderer, we’re still very much afraid of him. I mean who wouldn’t be when a 6 foot 7 tall man who barely spoke a word to you or anybody else aside from his daughter, who had hair covering a majority of his chiseled face and had piercing blue eyes, was standing right next to you.

Michael wasn’t quite fond of having his face being shown either. He much preferred to have it hidden behind either one of his masks, however he can’t risk that chance of being caught. God knows what Dr Loomis and the cops would do to his kid if they arrested and/or killed him. And there was another reason why he kept his mask off in public. He loved seeing the cute little smile on June’s face when she saw him smile at her.

Michael’s mind began to wander on what he and June would do after school together. Would they go out for ice cream? Maybe play at the park? Whatever he had settled on, it was interrupted by the loud ringing of the school bell telling the kids it was time to go home.

Due to his height, he could easily see the kids coming out and was able to pick out June from the rest of them. However he wasn’t able to see her this time, it was hard to miss her with her long and wavy brown locks that came down to her ankles. Michael squinted his eyes to see if she was somewhere in the back amongst the crowd of little children running to their parents or the school bus, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Michael’s blood began to rush, worried that something might have happened to her that the school didn’t tell him about. He began to press forward towards the building before his ears picked up the little pitter-patter of tiny shoes on the ground.

“Papa!” A soft voice called out to him.

Michael looked up at the stairs, and rushing out the large doors came June, a piece of paper in her tiny hand. When she saw him, her face beamed happily, her taking a giant leap off the stairs and into the air.

Michael snapped out of his worried daze and held his arms out to catch her, the tiny girl landing in his large, muscular arms. June happily threw her arms around him in a hug, and nuzzled her face into his. “Papa! Papa!!” She cheered, covering his face in kisses.

Michael breathed out a sigh of relief before smiling at her, pushing the hair out her face. “Hello pumpkin.” He said softly. “How was school?”

June wiggled out of his arms and landed on the ground, jumping up and down happily. “It was good! Oh here here here!” She said, her handing him the paper she had in her hands.

Michael tried to grab it but she was so hyper that it shook before he really could get a hold of it. He chuckled before managing to grab it from her and looked at it. “What is it sweetheart?” He asked, tilting it to get a better look.

What was on the now slightly crumpled piece of paper was a drawing of what looked like him, Jason, herself and a very…very crudely drawn Freddy with the words “stinky pepperoni man” scribbled on it. Right next to them was their home and a couple of flowers, some grass, and the sun. In the corner was some sort of mysterious red stain.

“I drew this today! It's me, you and bubba Jason! Oh and Freddy’s there too I guess.” She murmured, her messing with her feet. “I’m mad at Stu, he got ketchup on it during lunch…”

Michael smiled. The drawing melted his heart, he looked on the back and saw that she had written “my family” on it. It made him happy that, even though she was adopted, and she knew that she was, that she sees them all as her family. He folded up the paper and put it in the pack pocket of his coveralls. He kneeled down to be at her height before taking her in a big hug, almost lifting her off the ground. “I love it,pumpkin. Thank you.”

June gasped out happily, throwing her arms around his neck to hug him back. Michael let her go and stood up, and grabbed her hand. They began to walk back to their home.

“So what are we going to do today papa?”

Michael hummed, looking up at the sky and then down at her. “Well I was thinking we can take the car and drive to the ice cream place?”

Ice cream? June love, love, LOVES ice cream. She frantically shook her head yes, clapping her hands in agreement. “Yes! Yes we gotta go!”

Michael laughed, swinging her arm as they walked. “Alright, let’s go eat then, you can get all the toppings you want.” He instantly regretted saying that. June is a hyper child and knowing her, she’d pile her ice cream in rainbow and chocolate sprinkles, gummy bears and whatever sweet treats that really shouldn’t be used as ice cream toppings, her little heart desires, but he couldn’t resist her. When she was left at his doorsteps as a baby, she changed his life for the better. He didn’t mind spoiling her, but not too much.

Hours later, Michael was laying down on the old, rundown, paisley yellow couch with June asleep on his chest, her snoring softly. The tv was on, playing whatever show she liked. He really couldn’t understand the concept of this young singer who hides her identity by just putting on a blonde wig and her and her friends' shenanigans and why this appealed to June, but it made her happy and that’s all that mattered to him.

Jason was off to the side, drinking a cup of hot chocolate through his mask, looking at the both of them all cheerfully, his energy radiating off the living room walls that, if you turned off the lights, Jason would be beaming head to toe like a lantern.

Freddy walked in, him groaning and rubbing his eye, him poking Jason in the shoulder. “Jason, stop it.” He grumbled, him walking to the couch that Michael and June were on and reached for the remote.

Michael slapped his hand away and shot a deathly glare up at him. “June’s show is on. Don’t you dare change that channel.”

Freddy hissed, shaking his hand which was now more red than it normally was. “What’s the big fuckin deal? She’s asleep and it’s just stupid ass Hannah Montana!”

Michael’s glare grew more intense, him slowly sitting up while holding a sleeping June closer to his chest so she wouldn’t fall. “I said, don’t. Touch. The God damn. Remote.” He hissed, violence backing up his words.

Freddy held his hands up in defense and scoffed, backing up. “Alright fine geez, I’ll watch tv in the kitchen then, good fuckin’ greif.” He muttered, making his way to the kitchen.

Michael rolled his eyes in annoyance and laid back down slowly so as to not wake up June. Lo and behold, she was miraculously still asleep, rubbing her eyes as she slept.

Michael flashed a warm smile down at her before leaning over and planting a kiss on the top of her head.

Jason looked back over to the two before getting up and reaching into a small closet, digging through it before pulling out a small blue blanket. He waddled over as quietly as possible and laid the blanket over June and gave her a pat on her head, his hand ten times the size of her head.

Michael smiled and then turned his attention back to the tv. Before he had realized it the sun was down, and the Disney channel was playing whatever original movie that was causing a whole scene in her school. Teenagers, BLEGH! Dancing and singing about basketball, romance and whatever, He wasn’t paying attention. To be honest, he’d rather be watching the little mermaid, but the songs were catchy.

Michael let out a loud, very audible yawn before covering his mouth instantly and looked down at June, who again, was somehow still asleep through all the loud noise that went on. Jason was asleep on the couch behind him and using Freddy as some sort of teddy bear. Freddy was probably drunk off his ass to really care, but he was definitely going to feel his bones being crushed in the morning.

Michael huffed out and smiled at them all. He didn’t want to admit it to Freddy or Jason, but he was very glad that he had those two around him. The more he thought about the drawing June made for him of them as a family, the more he admitted that they were indeed a family. Originally, they were just there for hiding, though Freddy could go in and out of the dream realm as much as he pleases, he didn’t really need to hide, but I guess he stayed for whatever reason. Still, he needs to pay his rent. When June arrived, however, they did see themselves slowly becoming closer. They really were becoming a family.

June yawned, rolling over some, which snapped Michael out of his thoughts. He looked down at her and smiled, rubbing her cheek with his finger and moving her hair out of her face. He began to hum as he got up slowly from the couch and snuck past the other two and made his way up the stairs to June’s room. He began to navigate the room in the dark, making his way through stuffed toys and paper and crayons laid across the floor. He managed to find her bed, him pulling back the blanket and placing her in the sheets, laying her head on a pillow. He tucked her in blankets and laid under her arm a purple plush bunny.

June gently stirred about before a smile crept on her face in sleep.

Michael had leaned over and gave her a kiss on her head one last time before backing up and switching on a mushroom shaped night light that illuminated the room in a soft blue glow. “Goodnight Pumpkin. I love you.” He whispered, slowly closing the door behind him.

June rubbed her eyes, curling up in a ball under the blanket and held her bunny closer to her.

“I wuv..you too papa.”

[tpwkxxangel]

Side A: Track 1

//this is a continuation of a fanfiction that i am writing. if you haven’t read the prologue before this, please check it out or else this might not make sense. if you have any comments, let me know! here is the masterlist //

**************

June 2018

"Thank you Dallas!" Harry calls to the stadium full of fans. The cheers are loud and fill Harry's heart with love. It always amazes him how people sing his lyrics back to him. If someone told him 10 years ago that he would be playing a sold out arena, by himself, while touring his first debut album, he would think they were insane.

Every night, it takes a toll on him though. The energy in every venue and the laughs shared between him and his audience is so difficult to end. The endings are the worst part aren't they? This one is bittersweet.

Harry gives one last wave of his hand before walking off backstage. His breathing is a little labored due to him giving 110%.

"Another great show, Hersh! We should do something to celebrate!" his manager, Jeff, pats his back while handing him a towel. Harry gives a small appreciative smile before wiping off the sweat from his face. Jeff sighs knowing that this night won't be any different than the last month and a half. "Can you at least go out for one drink? You haven't been out in so long. We all miss you..."

Heartbreak can change you, and that's exactly what it did for Harry. He met Camille when he was in One Direction. She's a few years older than him, but no one could resist the Styles charm. After a few conversations at parties they both found themselves at, they started dating. Nothing was public of course, but the relationship was real none the less. Over the eight month relationship, Harry feel in love with the model. Towards the end, they both got really busy and couldn't devote as much time to the relationship as needed. There were other factors that made things difficult, so they decided to brake things off. Harry has never felt a pain like that in his life.

So he shut down.

He has always had big emotions that invade all of his senses, so when his love was taken away from him, he couldn't stand the brokenness he felt. He began to numb his pain with various methods, but nothing worked. He still feels all the pain he felt when he watched her drive away from his flat in London.

"I don't know man...I'm not feeling--"

"Up to it. Yeah, I know, but H. You are bottling up all of these feelings and that isn't healthy. I think a night out will be good for you. Have you called your therapist lately?"

His therapist lives in London, so when he is traveling, he usually calls in. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Think of it like paying for someone to spill your emotions to and they can't say anything about it.

Maybe Jeff is on to something. This bottling things up is tiring, so a night out may be fun.

"Fine. I'll go out as long as I'm back by two. We have to be on the road at nine and I'd like to get some rest before we leave."

"Deal!"

~~~

The air was stuffy in the heated club. They were all in the VIP booth on the second level of one of the hottest clubs in Dallas. Harry was sipping on his drink trying to pass the time. Only 3 hours before he can leave. God, did he want to leave. The concert was tiring and the never ending heartache was causing his head and heart to throb.

He was about to excuse himself to go find the restroom when a golden dress caught his eye. He took a deep breath before opening his eyes again only to spot the girl again. She looked different than the last time he saw her. Her skin was tanner than before, sunkissed just right. Her blonde hair is curled to perfection and lips still red, but she now looks old enough to be in a club like this. Her green eyes are bright with laughter at one of the other girls she is with.

Why is she here? How is she here?

He first saw her in New York. Was she just visiting there? All the memories flood back to him, taking him back to the time where everything was more simple, a lighter time. The way her voice sent a shiver down his spine, the eye contact she made while dancing, the way she touched herself, luring him in. The mere thought of her still drives him crazy.

"Excuse me guys," he turns to his bandmates and manager, "I'm going to find the loo."

Harry makes his way over to the bar where he sees his mystery girl. He flags down the bartender and tells him to give her the order she got two years prior.

He should probably feel embarrassed that he remembers everything about that night regarding the mystery girl, but for the first time in a while, he feels like this is exactly where he is meant to be.

When she received the drink, her brows draw together in confusion before looking to where Harry was sitting. The smirk that made him curious all those years ago made an appearance on her red stained lips. She says something to her friends before downing the drink and making her way over to the brit.

He admired the way her hips moved as she walked. The dress she was wearing complimented her is so many ways. She wasn't a model, but she sure could be.

"Well if it isn't Harry. Long time no see," her voice coming out just as velvety and sweet as before. He's absolutely ecstatic that she remembers his name. That means she thought of him after their encounter like he did.

"Hello, love. Nice to see you again," he smirks back. This is the first time since his break up that he sort of feels like himself.

"You cut your hair," she says while reaching for his drink. Instead of throwing this one back, she just takes a sip, leaving a perfect lip print on the glass.

He nods in a daze, watching the way her tongue darts out, running across her bottom lip. "I was in a movie. Needed it cut," he swallows dryly.

Her eyebrow rose slightly but wasn't surprised. He gave off superstar energy. "Would I have seen it?"

"Depends," he takes his drink back, trying to recover from the dirty thoughts running through his mind, "Do you watch war movies?"

"I've seen a few," she giggles softly, not being able to picture the Brit as a fighter.

"I was in Dunkirk," Harry shrugs.

"I'll have to give it a watch," Harry nods slightly taking a sip of his drink, "especially if the cast is as handsome as you."

Harry chocks slightly not expecting her to be so forward. He chuckles nervously. "Well, I don't want to be the only reason you watch the movie. I'm only a small part of it."

She cocks her eye brow slightly at his tone. Is he being shy? That's different than last time.

Her smirk quickly turns into a more genuine smile as her hand makes it's way on his shoulder. "I actually enjoy action movies, so I have a feeling you being in it would just be a perk."

Harry feels his cheeks flood with color. He distracts himself from the beautiful girl that's starting to make him nervous by sipping his drink again. How was he so confident the last time he saw her? Probably because his heart wasn't broken and there was more alcohol in his system.

He might not be able to fix the first one, but he can fix the second one. He gets the bartenders attention before turning back to his company.

"So, what brings you to the city? The last time I saw you, you were in New York," he asks, not trying to sound invasive, but the question has been brewing in his mind since he saw her.

Her smile dropped slightly before recovering quickly. "I actually grew up here. I'm...visiting some family while I'm in town," she shrugs.

"Do you live in New York now?"

"Part time. I'm a graduate student at Columbia," she says the words as if they aren't impressive.

Harry's mouth falls open slightly. Her prick of a boyfriend was right. She is very smart. Speaking of him...

"What happened to your boyfriend?" he finds himself asking before he can stop himself. Thankfully, the bartender sets another drink next to his empty glass so Harry could hide the blush on his face. This isn't going as well as he wanted it to.

"Who?" her brows furrow in confusion before they smooth out in realization, "I don't even remember his name. You could say that I was just helping him out with an...issue he was having."

"That's very mysterious..." he trails off, remembering he still doesn't know her name.

She laughs at him. She wasn't telling him her name on purpose. One thing that anyone knows about her is that she LOVES games. They make life so much more fun, but for some reason she wanted to hear Harry say her name over and over again in his cute accent. Maybe she'll tell him by the end of the night.

"You can call me J. Everyone does."

He looks at her, and really observes her features. The way her strong cheekbones and jaw are a stark contrast to the softness of her eyes and plush lips. She is truly a beautiful creature, so he finds himself standing up from his stool by the bar and holding out a hand to her to ask something he should have two years ago.

"Would you like to dance with me, J?" he asks.

J smiles brightly in return and Harry's knees go weak. They make their way out to the dance floor as a rock song wraps up. As luck would have it, a very familiar song plays next. The irony was not lost on Harry. That fact that he wrote this song about the girl that is currently swaying her mesmerizing hips against his is so funny that he almost laughs. He gets too distracted by her subtle touches to notice the eyes on him.

From across the bar, Jeff watches his friend loosen up for the first time in two months and feels a pressure release off his chest. He was worried about Harry when him and Camille split. He knows how sensitive his friend can be. Harry leads with his emotions and goes all in. When everything went down, Jeff was the first one Harry called. His broken voice shattered Jeff's heart. It sucked since they were in the middle of the tour and Harry had little to no break in between. Harry is tough, but even his fans noticed him crying during one of his performances in Scotland.

Jeff looks back at the couple on the dance floor to find them laughing. This is a good thing. He will have one night with this girl, and then go back to touring.

Little did Jeff know, Harry wasn't planning to let this girl walk out of his life again. It had to be a sight. He was miserable and had no hope when she randomly showed up in his life again. There are such things a coincidences, but this felt like more than that.

Harry's hands find their way to the girls waist. She looks ups through her lashes at him. "You know, this is my song." He's starting to feel the alcohol in his system, so his words are slightly slurred.

Her laugh makes it's way to his ears and sends a goose bumps all over his body. "No, shit. Really?"

Harry just nods before taking a deep breath and belting out the lyrics. "She goes home to a cactus, in a black dress, she's such an actress, she's driving me crazy!" He's met with her beautiful laugh again. Maybe one day he'll have the courage to tell her who the song is about. They continue to dance for a few more songs before both of them need another drink.

"So, you are not only an actor, but a musician as well?" she hums into her whiskey.

Harry gets nervous again. "I wouldn't say an actor. It's just that one movie."

"One more than me," she giggles. Her lightly glossed over eyes let Harry know the alcohol is taking effect.

As he opens his mouth to speak again, one of J's friends from before comes up to her. She turns her head to hear what her friend says but never takes her eyes off Harry. With one nod of her head, her friend leaves.

"Do you need to leave?" Harry asks. He doesn't want her to leave again. He finally can breathe after two months of suffocating. He's finally out of his head. Maybe it's time to open himself up to new things and not be afraid of hearts getting broken. Camille moved on, so why can't he?

She shakes her head and he lets out a sigh of relief. "I'd rather stay here and talk to you. But they are leaving."

"I'll be sure to get you home," he smiles softly at her. There's the familiar flutter in his heart. It's crazy, honestly. He met this girl once two years ago, yet he is so infatuated with her. She makes his broken heart feel less lonely. He checks the watch on his wrist for the time. It's getting close to two in the morning. He wants to get out of here, but not be done with the night. He doesn't want to go back to his hotel and be lonely. He won't admit that to her though. "Would you like to get out of here?"

His eyes widen at what that sounds like. It's not like he doesn't want to be with her in that way. He was going to take her home two years ago. But, he's different than he was then. He just wants to talk to her in a place that doesn't drown out her gorgeous voice. He starts to correct himself, but she just laughs at him.

"I know what you meant, Harry. I actually have a car waiting for me outside. I know a place we can go if you'd like to come with me."

He nods quickly. "I just have to tell my friends. I'll be right back."

"I'll wait outside. Don't take too long," she smirks before kissing his cheek. She left a bit of lipstick, so she wipes it off before turning around towards the door.

Harry makes his way back to the VIP section with the biggest grin only to see Jeff quickly duck down. He was spying on him, but harry can't even find it in himself to care. He felt like he was floating in the sky towards this sunshine he so desperately needed. When he gets to the spot everyone is sitting at, all the conversations go quiet.

"I'm leaving. I know I have to be back at the hotel at nine to go to Houston. I have my phone on me. Please don't need me until then." Before he can turn around and follow his golden girl, Jeff speaks up.

"Are you sure about this Hersh?"

Harry smiles softly at his concern. "She's an old friend. I finally feel like I can breathe," he whispers the last part as everyone goes back to their conversations.

This is such a relief to his manager. Originally, he just wanted Harry to loosen up and have some fun again. He wasn't going to let him leave with anyone. That's not how you get over a relationship. For some odd reason, this girl seemed to help him more than any of his other friends have in two months.

"Okay. Be safe and text me if you need anything."

Harry nods and heads towards the door. When he walks out, he sees J leaning on a sleek black car talking to an older guy. When she sees him, her eyes light up. She seems so bright compared to how he has been feeling the past few weeks. It's a breath of fresh air, and he couldn't be more relieved to finally take a breath in.

J touches the mans arm before he walks to the drivers side and gets in. "I thought you might have changed your mind?"

"On you? Never," he chuckles while opening the door for her. They both get into the car and Harry starts to wonder why she has a driver? It didn't register in his mind until now. Before he has time to ask, she speaks.

"Stanley, to my hideout please," she speaks softly to the man. There is genuine affection in her voice and Harry can already tell this man is not just a driver to her. He nods and pulls out onto the streets. There are cars on the road, but not as many as a bigger city like New York.

"So, where are you taking me?" Harry breaks the comfortable silence of the car.

"It's a place I like to go when I'm in town," she answers honestly. She's not used to opening up to people, but with Harry it seems almost natural for her. "I travel a lot. When I come back home, things can get a bit crazy for me. I come from a family that expect a lot out of me, so it's nice to have a place to get away from everything."

"I understand the feeling of wanting to get away. In my line of work, there is a lot of pressure to act or be a certain way," he thinks back to his time in One Direction. He never wanted to be the cause of the band breaking up so he held himself to higher standards than the others. It wasn't all bad, but it hurt when his name was thrown around in the press.

"That's right. You're a Popstar," she giggles.

"Rockstar more like," he playfully scoffs.

She rolls her eyes at him with a smile adorning her cherry red lips. "I'll be the judge of that mister."

"Would you like to come to one of my concerts to see for yourself?" he asks partially joking.

She looks at him with her eyebrow raised. "Would you like me to come to one of your concerts?" In all honesty, she wasn't expecting to see him after tonight. Her life can be hectic so her friends are very limited. Harry seems like a nice guy that she wouldn't mind in her life for longer than tonight.

"Yes," he replies with no hesitation. Now that he thinks about it, he wants to see her in the audience singing along to his songs.

She smiles at him and he's back in her trance. She grabs his hand and gives it a squeeze before letting go. "Then I would love to see you perform. When were you thinking?"

"I'm on tour right now, so name a city," he says, "I have the Houston show in two days and then I head to Florida. After that, I believe I'll be in Georgia, Tennessee, and Pennsylvania."

"Wow, that's a lot of shows. I feel like I should have known you would be successful," she laughs, "I'm actually busy for the next week, and after that I'll be flying back to New York."

Harry thinks over his schedule. "Are you free on the 21st?"

She thinks for a moment. "Yes. I don't believe I have anything planned until the end of June."

"I have a show in New York that day if you'd like to come. I believe I'll be there the following day if that works better?."

"That sounds perfect!" she exclaims.

"Ma'am," Stanley interupts politely. "We are here."

"Thank you, Stanley." She turns to Harry with an intoxicating smile. "Let's go!"

J gets out quickly and makes her way to the back of the car. She pulls two blankets out of the trunk and a small bag. Harry gets out and looks around. They are at a small park. This isn't exactly where he thought she would 'hideout' when things got tough.

"A park?" he asks. He's not complaining. He'd could be at a landfill and be happy as long as he's with her.

"It's just a stop on the way. We have to do the rest by foot." He looks into her beautiful green eyes. That familiar warmth is spreading through him. He's scared of becoming more attached to this girl he barely knows, but where's the fun in being cautious?

"Lead the way, love," he gestures forward as she blushes at the pet name.

They both move to the trail that is lit up by lamps. There's a peaceful silence that falls on them. The sounds of crickets and the wind blowing is a stark difference between the roaring stadium a few hours ago. It's nice to feel this silence with her. He feels a hand slip into his. He looks down at their hands connected in shock. He doesn't know how he feels about it at first, but as her hand holds onto his, he loves this feeling. It's insane and strange but he's said it before, she drives him crazy. So, maybe him letting her take control is what is meant to happen. Loving her may be his antidote...

But, that's for another time.

She clears her throat, breaking him out of his thought. "So, where are you from?"

"I'm from a small town in England called Cheshire," he replies.

"Like the cat?" she asks curiously.

He booms out a laugh. "Yes, like the cat."

"What's it like there?" she asks. There's something in her tone that he can't quite decipher.

"It's very beautiful. I love England. Have you ever been?" he asks.

"Yes. I traveled with my parents when I was little. I haven't been in a while though. After I graduate, I plan on seeing more of the world," she says thinking of all the places she wished her parents took her to see. "What's the coolest place you've been to?"

"I love Brazil. It's lovely there. When I played in Rio, my band and I went sightseeing." he says. As a musician, you might get to travel the world, but you have a hard time actually seeing the cities you are in. When Harry was with One Direction, they would have to organize their sightseeing weeks in advance to prepare for the potential mobs.

"That sounds amazing!" she says. "Rio is on my bucket list." Before he can reply, she looks at the path and pulls on his hand to stop him. "We have to go off path from here."

He laughs nervously. "Are you taking me out into the woods at night to kill me?" Even though it's night time here, there are lamp post that light up the way.

"How did you know?" she replies seriously. He gulps before she bursts into laughter. "No, there is a place about 10 yards from here where I like to watch the sunrise. If you feel uncomfortable, we can just head back. I won't be offended." she says honestly.

He thinks about going back, but oddly enough, in the trees with her, he feels completely comfortable. He shakes his head. She smiles that sunshine smile before she leads him into the trees.

The wind starts to whistle, gliding through the trees in the night air.

"What is that?" Harry asks when her starts to see the trees clear.

"That's where I'm taking you," she smiles. They walk through the small gap in the cluster of bushes. Once they get through, she stops them both.

"This is..." Harry seems to be at a loss of words. They stand in silence for what feels like ten minutes. The clearing that they are in is relatively small. No bigger than a baseball diamond, but it is full of flowers. There are solar lanterns on the surrounding trees to light up the beautiful scenery. The reason they stand quietly is because that's the only way to hear the music in the wind. The trees surrounding the clearing are close together causing the wind to pick up speed and whistle a beautiful melody.

J slowly walks towards the middle of the field and lays the blanket she was holding down in an open spot of flowers. She pulls out two wine glasses and a book from the bag on her shoulder before sitting down. She looks at the Brit that hasn't moved since getting into the clearing.

Harry stands smiling down at his mystery girl without saying a word.

"What do you think?" she asks softly, not wanting to interrupt the breeze.

He slowly walks over to her and sits down. "I love it," he simply states.

A strand of hair falls in front of his eyes and before he can move it away himself, J's warm hand tucks it back in place. Her palm rests on his cheek and he leans into it. He feels so comfortable as her thumb caresses his cheek. He feels that familiar heat as her thumb travels down to his lips. A small gasp leaves him as her fingertips rub against his bottom lip.

She leans forward slightly, searching his gaze for any hesitation. He can't move. He closes his eyes, breathing in and breathing out. When he opens his eyes she is the only thing he can see.

When their lips touch, it's even better than he thought it would be. The world around him disappeared. The floating feeling is back. It's like she's waiting for him in the sky, pulling him towards her warmth. He parts his lips slightly and she leans against him more. She matches his feverish movements by moving her hand to his chest. He has no doubt that she can feel how fast his heart is beating. His hands move to her hips, pulling her on top of him slightly. He is still conscientious to the fact that she is still in her dress. He pulls the bottom of it down, to make sure everything is covered.

Always the gentleman.

They stay like that for a while before pulling back. Opening the wine, and diving into conversation. She pulls out a disposable camera while he's telling the story about the time he met his good friend when they punched Harry in the face instead of the person who deserved it. As he laughs, she takes the picture. The stars shine on his face and the lanterns light up his features. When he hears the click, he looks over at her curiously.

"Um," she looks down blushing, "I love taking pictures with disposable cameras. My life can be a little crazy, so taking one shot pictures helps me remember all the important things. I don't want to forget this night."

His heart stutters and picks up double time. "You are such an amazing person. I don't want to forget this night either." He pulls out his phone and tells her to smile. She grins so brightly that he officially doesn't believe she is real. She's an angel on this Earth.

They talk for hours before she reads him the book she brought while he lays back enjoying to musical wind and her voice. When she stops suddenly, he opens his eyes.

"The sun is coming up," she smiles at him. He looks at his watch again and realizes it's five-thirty in the morning. The time has flown by. As the sun starts to rise, she finally tells him her name.

"Janis Rogers," she whispers, "My name is Janis Rogers."

He looks over at her and smiles while he stretches out his hand, "Harry Styles." She matches his smile before taking his hand. He takes this opportunity to pull her onto his lap.

She giggles, but leans back into him. He feels her sigh into him. He puts his arms around her and feels a warmth fill his chest. He could get used to this feeling.

They sit and watch the sunrise above the trees, but he can't take his eyes off her. He takes this time to reflect on the last eight hours he has spent with the girl he thought he'd never see again. The sunlight hits her face and she closes her eyes. There's only one thing running through his mind...

She's so golden.

[before-we-get-started]

Dream Come True

Colin Shea x O/C Corinne MacAdam

Multi-Chapter Story - Complete

Summary: Colin Shea and his band Rock the Cradle are finally making it big - until something unexpected happens. When he meets a girl that makes him reconsider his player ways, he thinks his life may be coming together, until she blows it apart.

Warning: Bad language, smut, suicidal ideations - no one under 18, please

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please do not read if you are underage. I do not own the character of Colin Shea; the rest are my original characters. By reading beyond this point, you understand the disclaimers as posted.

Chapter Two

“Hey Colin, you’re not the only one on the court! Pass the ball!”

Colin Shea dribbled once, jerking his head to the right, totally duping the defender trying to keep him from the basket. He took advantage of his opponent taking the bait and drove left, hitting a perfect layup.

“I believe that’s the win, gentlemen,” he said confidently, hands on hips, a broad smile across his handsome face. His spiky blonde hair was damp with sweat and he wiped his face on the front of his t-shirt, revealing defined abs.

“Come on man, best of three.” The other team was already lining up to start a new game.

“Fine,” he said, flashing the smile, ocean blue eyes sparkling. He tossed the basketball across to his opponent.

Colin’s team huddled up. “Look, I know you’re the leader of the band, but we’re supposed to be a team out here,” grinned Kevin, one of his teammates. His whole band was here – Mike, Evan and Spencer rounding out the five. “Let’s show them the razzle dazzle this time.”

Colin grinned. He loved razzle dazzle. At their meeting yesterday, the guys had agreed playing hoops was the best way to kill the nervous energy they all had for tonight, their first real shot at a recording contract. They’d played the same three bars for several years, developing a local following but never attracting any attention from anyone that could help them get further - until last week, when a producer from National Records had stopped in to Finnegan’s for a beer while in town for a conference. He was immediately drawn to the band on stage – young, full of energy and great musicians. The song they were singing was catchy but not familiar – could it be an original? They were almost too good to be true.

He’d caught them after they finished their set and got their story – high school friends that all had some kind of music in their background, and all believed they were good enough to live off their talent. They’d formed a band junior year of high school and had been together since. They’d all finished college but stayed together and continued to play. Their biggest claim to fame was playing the birthday party of the daughter of one of the Red Sox. Other than that, it was the three bars, some parties and lots of hope.

Tonight they’d discuss the potential to start the process of recording five original songs to be marketed by National. They’d tried streaming their music before, but this would give them an incredible boost. The next step would be a tour – the producer was considering hooking them up with two other bands that would head out for the summer. Come June, they’d be seeing the country on National Records’ dime. All of their hard work would finally pay off.

The other team inbounded the ball to start the third game, all of the players hyped and vocal. Spencer slapped the ball away from the opponent, bounce passing it to Kevin.

“Razzle dazzle!” he yelled, throwing the ball high to the hoop. Colin swooped in and reached up, dunking the ball with force. He saw Kevin throw his fist in the air just as he caught an opposing player with his leg, throwing him straight back. He landed flat on the cement, and everything went dark.

Serene. That was the only word Cori could use to describe it. She was surrounded by serenity. Soft golden light, crystal blue water and silence. Total silence. She began to walk towards a cliff, water as far as she could see sprawled across the horizon. She felt light, almost like a feather. Her steps were slow and steady. Only a few more and she’d finally be free of all the pain.

She reached the edge and stared below. Turquoise water, calm and inviting. The sky was golden. The air was warm. It felt as though she was enveloped in comfort. She imagined for a moment how good it would feel to sink into the still water below and readied herself for one last step.

She stopped for just a second to steady herself and lifted her foot but felt something on her arm. Looking over her shoulder, there was someone. Her view was a little hazy. A guy, she thought. He was tall, with blonde spiky hair, a sweaty t-shirt and baggy gym shorts, and the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen, more beautiful than the water below. The shirt bunched up around strong biceps. It sagged at the neckline, revealing the definition of his pecs, a silver chain and a tattoo with a few unreadable words peeking out. His nose was angled, a little crook at the top, and his lips were those of dreams – pink and pillowy. He was beautiful.

She took him in for a minute and assessed the situation. Was this the afterlife? Perhaps there really were angels. He certainly qualified. Maybe he was escorting her to the end.

“Don’t.” His voice was a deep baritone, just as sexy as he was. “Don’t take this step.”

She looked into those eyes and sighed. “Why?”

He hesitated – “it’s not time.”

She thought about that. He was mistaken. “It is,” she said. “Past time. Please let go. It’s what’s best, trust me.”

He tightened his grip a little, gently pulling her back toward him. “Not yet.”

She turned her body so she was facing him and she had to look up at him, taking in his broad shoulders. His hair was damp, his cheeks red like maybe he’d been running.

“Thank you, really, but I have to go. It’s ok.”

“No,” he said more sternly, pulling her a little closer.

She wasn’t angry or frustrated, just determined. “I have to go. It’s what’s best.” She tried to pull her arm away from him but she found herself in his embrace. She looked up and her nose was inches from his. His full lips were set in a grim line, his eyebrows scrunched with concern.

“Please,” she breathed softly. “I know you mean well. I just need to go. It’s too hard to stay. It hurts too much.” She felt a tear run down her cheek. Taking this last step would finally make the tears end.

He relaxed the frown a little, his face suddenly etched with concern. “What if this is just what’s easiest? What if there’s something you haven’t done yet? You’ll miss it.”

She let her head drop, the tears now flowing freely. “There’s nothing. There’s nothing for me,” she said, a soft sob escaping.

“I think you’re wrong. What if you’re wrong?” He pulled her a little closer, his strong arms now cradling her tightly.

She rested her head on his chest. It felt so good, so comfortable. His arms were so secure. He was warm and soft and despite the sweaty shirt, he smelled musky and masculine. It would be so easy to just relax into his embrace. But she didn’t deserve that.

She looked up at him and mustered a half smile. “Thank you. But I know. There’s nothing else for me. It’s all gone. I just want to go.” She tried her best to break out of his embrace but he wasn’t letting go.

“Not now. It’s not time.” He freed a hand to cradle her cheek, then pulled her face to his, his lips on hers. His kiss was warm and sweet and she felt as if she was floating on air. She leaned into him, deepening the kiss even more, wrapping her arms around his neck, fingers digging into his damp hair. It suddenly felt as if lightning was striking all around them. He pulled her so close she thought she might have become part of him. Her entire body was bathed in warmth, and then a chill enveloped her as he faded away –

“Clear!” She felt a jolt go through her, snapping her back to painful reality. Bright lights shown down on her. Every inch of her hurt. The pain was unbearable. She let out a scream and fell unconscious.

[magicalforcesau]

Dancing With Ghosts in Your Garden~ Chapter 22 - Year 2: June

(ao3 link)

Qui-Gon Jinn’s funeral had been a somber affair populated by an extraordinary assortment of people that hastily filled the simple wooden seats that decorated the field just beside Hogwarts. Most of whom, Obi-Wan Kenobi found he did not know, but each seemed set on honoring the man who lay peacefully at the hearth of the pyre that had yet to burn. It had been his wish to be buried at Hogwarts, where he dedicated himself entirely and touched so many lives in the process. Obi-Wan wasn’t surprised to realize this, but it made it harder to forgive himself as his other professors insisted he must. He couldn’t help but feel that he had failed all of these strangers, who did nothing to warrant losing such a renowned wizard before his time.

Of course, he was also surrounded by those he knew. His parents weren’t in attendance, but most affluent families of the pureblood community weren’t. He hadn’t even bothered to tell them he was going, though surely they’d learn soon enough since mortality was not enough to ward off the influence of the press. He found he did not care either way.

Anakin sat to his left and Satine to his right with Cody and his whole line of brothers on her other side. Her hand had never left his, serving the necessary purpose of grounding him during the ceremony. Otherwise, he wasn’t positive he’d stay lucid during the various speeches commemorating Qui-Gon and that only would have been another stab of guilt for him to resurrect later.

There was not a dry eye in sight for each professor’s traditional tribute to their fallen colleague and friend, save for Obi-Wan and the daze he found himself trapped in. Professor Ti went on about his caring and inquisitive nature through his rants about muggle objects, while Professor Sifo Dyas rambled about a time Qui-Gon had saved him from the Whomping Willow. Professor Plo reminisced about their shared love of tea and Professor Palpatine on his determination and wit to finish crossword puzzles. Professor Windu’s had been surprisingly warm and heartfelt despite his typical tendency to disagree with Qui-Gon on a daily basis. It seemed, in the end, that's why they got along so well. They accepted their misgivings and their differences.

It was a tranquil first day of June- neither too hot nor chilly with its wide display of clear sky that met somewhere in the middle with the black lake to create one expanse of blue in the center of the horizon. The emerald grass that stretched over the hills like a snug blanket coupled with the soft chirping of birds in the distance made for it to all be picturesque at face value. It all felt balanced.

Headmaster Yoda, who was welcomed back almost immediately by demand of the entire staff and student body, stood with a lit torch at hand that even from his row, Obi-Wan could see the deep sadness that reflected in his eyes as he stared at the flickering flames.

“Student, colleague, friend of mine… Qui-Gon Jinn was.” Yoda’s deep brogue seemed to rumble in his little green chest more than usual as his words seemed caught in his throat. His long ears dipped down as he cast his eyes across the sea of people who sat with bated breath over what the Headmaster would say in tribute of the man that still lay untouched by anything except the sun. “Miss him, I will.”

Everyone could resonate with that.

“But gone, he is not.” He said finally, “Lives, his spirit and message do. In all of us, we must find him. In class, at home, in our hearts. Never far do the dead go, not when they leave so many of us behind. Sad, we will be, for a space there is left.”

Everyone’s attention was directed to the ceremonial empty golden chair that was positioned at the front of the field next to Mace Windu, Shaak Ti, and Sheev Palpatine.

“Fight til the end, he did, and do the same we must, every day. In class, at home, in our hearts. Fight to maintain and sustain the light he cast, we must.” He raised the tip of the torch to the wood at the edge of the pyre and quickly, it was engulfed in flames, “Burn, the fire and spirit of his life will for all of eternity. Keep us warm, it will, as well as guide us in times of darkness that lie ahead.”

Without any choreography indicating otherwise, Mace Windu stood to his feet and raised his wand, casting a small white glow at the tip. As if sensing the need to highlight such a gesture, a singular cloud hovered over the bright sun that would otherwise drown out any other light. The other two Heads of House followed suit as well as Yoda in tow. The audience, with a domino effect, each individually raised their wands triumphantly.

Obi-Wan felt a tug on the sleeve of his other arm and looked down to meet the glassy eyes of Anakin Skywalker.

“What happens to me now?” He asked quietly, hardly above the wisp of wind that fluttered across the grassland.

“You will still become a wizard, I swear.” Obi-Wan said with more sincerity than he likely had any right giving, “I’ll look out for you.”

While it wasn’t an answer on where he would be at the official close of the school year, it seemed to placate him enough to silence any further questions for the time being. This was just as well to Obi-Wan, who was content with the agonizing silence that had come over the crowd and allowed him not to face anymore people that he’d failed.

He did his best to beat the crowd back to the castle, even slipping from Satine and Cody, who were talking to Cody’s older brothers. While he liked the presence of the Fett’s, Obi-Wan was not in the mood to entertain.

In his aimless grief, he’d wound up at Qui-Gon’s office, which was poignant to say the least. As he ran a hand across his desk and glanced up at the array of books that filled the shelf across from him, he absently wondered how often he’d come here when he felt he was drowning too deeply in his own thoughts. How often had the man, who now had his own commemorative portrait near the Great Hall, saved him from himself? And what would he say now?

No answer from Obi-Wan would be sufficient, so he left the internal thought untouched and opted to sift through the book that still sat open on his desk. He promised himself he’d leave it just as he found it in some convoluted attempt at preserving his final quiet moments, but was curious what he’d been reading.

It was a yearbook from while Qui-Gon was at school. The page had been opened to a bunch of class pictures, which true to form with anything in their community, the pictures were moving. Most concerning, was that Maul was on this page, bearing all of his teeth during his photograph in a way that a canine might exert dominance. It probably should have been jarring to see a picture of the man he’d murdered in defense of Obi-Wan’s de facto father figure, but all Obi-Wan could feel was an unsteady sadness.

Qui-Gon would not want him to feel hate or hold a grudge. Maul was gone and wouldn’t hurt anyone ever again and that was the point Qui-Gon would fixate on.

If everything was supposed to be balanced, why did Obi-Wan feel so unsteady?

“I should have known I’d find you here.” Satine’s voice instantly interrupted his thoughts.

He tried to manage a shrug, “Just catching up on some light reading.”

As she practically glided across the floor towards him, Obi-Wan admired her, even in his dismal state, and how put together she always managed to look. She, like him and most others, wore all black. In her case, a long sleeve black skater-dress with matching floral stockings and shiny flat shoes. Her hair was half-up and half-down in long blonde tresses that curled in sweet waves down the length of her back. He wasn’t sure if it was the contrast from the darkness of her outfit or the fact that she’d been crying earlier, but her eyes had never looked so piercingly blue before this moment.

She rested a hand on the back of the chair at which he sat and peered over his shoulder. He could feel her tense beside him, but could do nothing to offer any real condolence other than a shared look of sympathy.

“It was sitting open on his desk.” He answered her silent question, “Do you think they knew each other? Beyond what he’s said in the past, that is.”

“If he was searching for answers in a yearbook, I find it doubtful that it was a close bond.” She said and lifted the book to catch the year, “Qui-Gon was only a second year when Maul was in sixth.”

That was the same age gap between Obi-Wan and Anakin. Unsure why that thought floored him so, Obi-Wan forced himself to remain focused on the facts at hand.

“This is the year Maul killed that girl.”

“The only minor to ever be convicted of first-degree murder in the history of the Wizengamot.” She said quietly and while he first thought he was just hearing things, he couldn’t help but notice how her voice caught on convicted as if there were others gone untouched by the trenches of history. Maybe there had been, but the sullen look on her face as she stared down at the young picture of Qui-Gon distracted him once again. He certainly didn’t see it fit to remind her that Maul hadn’t actually been caught and tossed away until years after he was convicted.

“We always used to come here for answers.” She said and she leaned on the edge of the desk, taking in the entirety of the classroom as though for the last time, “And often left with more questions. I suppose it’s only right this mystery not be completely put to bed.”

“And you’re alright with that?” He asked, unsure if he was asking for himself or for her.

She breathed out a sigh, “What choice do we have on the matter?”

She had a point. It wouldn’t change anything. The heaviness in Obi-Wan’s chest felt nearly unbearable for that moment, but he sucked in a breath and walked around the desk to join her. They sat so close they were nearly touching, but not quite. In a way, he never felt farther from her.

“Qui-Gon always said that a curious mind was a happy one.” He pointed out.

“But we must be careful which avenue we point our questions,” She countered without a trace of bite to her tone, “And decide when it’s wisest to ask them. Or if it’s wise at all.”

“If we do everything with the intent of being wise, then that negates all wisdom.” He debated and similar to her, lacked any momentum.

“But at some point,” Satine turned to look at him, “You need to ask yourself if you’re searching or deflecting.”

“That’s not something Qui-Gon ever said.” He whispered, simultaneously afraid to continue staring at her and to look away.

“No, but perhaps he needed to.” She said just as quietly and considered him under a scrutiny that instinctively made him shift, “You haven’t even cried since it happened.”

“I’m not much for crying.” And even as he said it, he knew he sounded like a cardboard cutout of a person rather than his true self.

“Well nobody likes crying, Ben.” She shook her head, “But mourning loss is a necessary part of life. It’s not healthy to bottle everything up inside.”

Obi-Wan could think of a floor-length list of emotions that have been welled up inside him for quite some time- some good and some bad, but all gone unexplored beyond what crept into his dreams at night.

“I know.” He said stiffly and diverted his attention to the floor, “But I’ve got bigger things to worry about than my feelings right now, Satine. Anakin is essentially homeless now since they’ve still yet to find his mother.”

“I heard the promise you made him.” She said.

“And I intend to keep it!” He asserted harshly, standing to his feet and putting some distance between them, “I promised Qui-Gon.”

“What?” She asked, sliding off the desk, but staying in place.

“After the Maul fight,” He breathed in, trying to ground himself from trembling at the thought of the memory, “His dying words were that I promise to look after Anakin. That he will save us all!”

Though his vision was becoming slightly blurry as he regarded Satine, the overwhelming sadness in her eyes as she stared at him openly without barring any of her feelings was what made him feel suddenly as though he’d been shoved underwater.

“I’m not sure who that puts more pressure on.” She said hoarsely, “You or Anakin.”

“You can’t tell Anakin this.” He said, “He’s got enough on his plate.”

“Yeah, he’s not the only one.” She admonished and stepped across the room to stand before him. Even if he wanted to back away from her, he knew he couldn’t.

“I’m fine.” He said softly, if only to appease the worry that worked its way between her brow.

“No you’re not.” She insisted as she drew closer, “And nobody expects you to be.”

“I have to.” He croaked, “Anakin-”

“-Needs you, I know.” She said, but although she admitted what he had previously insisted, he knew it never came without a caveat, “But you need people too, because you lost someone very dear to you.”

He opened his mouth and closed it, but found he didn’t really want to reject what she was saying, not when her tentative hands reached up and pulled him into a hug that felt like coming home. Or at least, what he imagined that was supposed to feel like.

He rested his chin on her shoulder as the embrace continued and released a sigh as he finally put to words what troubled him most, “I feel like I failed him.”

“I know.” It wasn’t dismissive in the slightest either, but as though she truly had known all along that this was what raked his mind at the late hours of the night since the moment his former mentor fell before him. It was because of how resolute she sounded that he started to believe her when she said, “You didn’t.”

After a long beat of just floating like that, he finally pulled back to look at her. Her arms were still hung over his shoulders and the gaze she fixed him with was still of concern, but it no longer felt like an intrusion. It just felt natural.

“Thank you.” He said a bit awkwardly, because what else did one say in this instance?

She smoothed out his suit whether he needed it or not and loosened his tie a bit, “That’s what friends are for.”

For a brief second, he remembered what he wanted to tell her before and the slight escape of emotional vulnerability was almost enough to send it soaring out of him. However, the remorse that still clung to them in this room felt like the wrong place and the wrong time for such a confession. Nothing like that should be tinged with sadness.

One way or another, they silently ended up sitting next to each other on Qui-Gon’s desk again, this time with legs touching. His remained still while hers swung forwards and backwards.

He took her hand gently, stirring her from her own heavy thoughts, “Headmaster Yoda asked that I help sort through some of Qui-Gon’s stuff. Closure and all that.”

She sniffed, but didn’t quite give way to any tears, “That’s a lot just for one person.”

“I’d be open to a little help.” He said, hoping she would take the bait.

She did, “Someone has to keep you from breaking everything.”

He scoffed, “That was one time.”

“And he never knew.” She said.

“Oh, he definitely knew.” He snorted, “Knowing him, he always knew.”

Qui-Gon Jinn knew a lot about many things and had passed on as much knowledge as time allotted to the very fortunate Obi-Wan Kenobi. Every silly and simple trinket seemed to evoke some piece of wisdom from the deceased wizard, but one that seemed louder than the rest came when Obi-Wan’s eyes drifted to a sprig of mistletoe that was held under a glass display- enchanted to never wither.

“You need to live your life.”

Satine leaned her head on his shoulder, “I’m going to miss quarreling with you in this office.”

He chuckled, “Something tells me the next professor in here won’t be quite as accepting of our constant intrusions.”

“We’ll have to find another space to rip each other apart,” She sighed wistfully, “The next professor has big shoes to fill.”

“Yeah,” He snorted, “Literally and metaphorically.”

“I’ll miss him.”

He nodded against her head, “Me too.”

“There you lot are!” Cody’s voice echoed abruptly through the corridor, startling both Obi-Wan and Satine away from each other in earnest. Off of this reaction, their friend grinned wryly. “I just came to tell you the food is out! I’ve never seen such a spread before in my life.”

“Thank you, Cody.” Obi-Wan chuckled and it actually felt legitimate for the first time in days, “What ever would we do without you?”

“Get into more trouble, I’m guessing.” He said, but his features softened a bit as he looked at the two of them, “Everything alright?”

Satine smiled lightly and tugged Obi-Wan by the hand out the door, which was for the best, seeing as he would never leave without her gentle prodding, and linked her other hand with Cody’s. “We will be.”

And that was an answer Obi-Wan could deal with. He only looked back once at Qui-Gon’s now vacant office, but settled his stare straight ahead and allowed himself to sink into the idle and comforting chatter that his friends naturally engaged in. He felt Satine squeeze his hand as they approached the Great Hall, as though silently asking if he was ready to face the masses and he returned the gesture in kind.

The rest of his life started today.

***

Anakin was told on numerous occasions by countless individuals that it would do him some good- being outside and enjoying the fresh air. Objectively, it was a gorgeous and quiet day, but any of its beauty was lost on Anakin as he pondered the growing uncertainty of his future. First, it had been his mom and his entire world had been shaken. The only pieces that had been slid into place was that he was to continue attending school at Hogwarts thanks to Qui-Gon. However, with no one to care for him and a strict policy against allowing students to stay for the summer, even that was laid to dust as well as someone who became important to Anakin in a short period of time.

He kicked a stray pebble as he walked the courtyard. It felt strange to linger around the grounds of the school without fear or risk. In a sense, it felt like the entire year was lost to Maul. And worst of all, he never did get the closure he desired on the whereabouts of his mother.

He tightened a fist and stared at the horizon. Repairs for the exterior to Hogwarts were still ongoing after Qui-Gon’s funeral. The bridge at which Maul fell was still sectioned off as it was deemed unstable and still being used for the purpose of investigations. No one tried to walk it anyway. The canyon beneath was already developing rumors of being haunted since a body had yet to be recovered.

Anakin was beginning to understand that no scary story could be worse than what he was living. Obi-Wan was, of course, hovering like he feared Anakin would go throw himself off the tip of the castle and dance around the topic that lingered above them. He’d made a promise to ensure Anakin would be a wizard and continue going to Hogwarts- a promise that Anakin knew he had no business making, but still held onto. What other hope did he have, after?

The kids who he believed were once his friends and then turned on him- Ferus Olin and Jax Pavan to name a couple- now looked at him with such pity that they didn’t even warrant him safe for teasing. Even Sebulba was laying off of him!

And it was more infuriating than anything else. He just wanted something to be mad at, to lash this growing fury that was rising in his throat like bile. He wanted someone to blame and he didn’t even have a clear answer to that. He’d seen Maul enter his house, but his mother had already been gone. Whatever disaster he caused had been after she left.

He shivered.

No, that wasn’t right. Taken. She would never leave Anakin willingly, even if someone wanted him to believe that.  Maul had no reason to lie about taking his mother, not when he so freely killed two of Anakin’s professors and wanted to do the same to him. That left Dooku, essentially, as people who wanted Anakin to suffer. The slimy former professor operated almost purely in deceit and would surely love for Maul to take a fall for his crimes. He’d been training Ventress on how to sneak attack Anakin all year and thankfully, she was terrible at her job or else it might have worked.

He’d let it get into his head that as the Chosen One, he was unstoppable and maybe that was true to a degree, but all it seemed to do was mow down the people he loved. But then, when he tried to go at it alone, people still suffered. Was this not escapable?

He toyed with the necklace still in the pockets of his robes. Did anything he did make a difference? Or was Qui-Gon right about being at will of the fates? It was an awful lot for a 12 year old to take, though he realized with disarming clarity that he was to be 13 in only two weeks’ time. It would be the first year he’d have no one to celebrate with.

“Sorry if I’m interrupting,” A pacifying voice disturbed his increasingly dark line of thoughts and he was relieved to turn and see Professor Palpatine’s kind eyes looking down at him.

“No, I was just thinking,” He shrugged, “I don’t mind a break.”

He knew under more pleasant circumstances, one of his friends would make a joke about how he usually was on vacation from thinking, but the unspoken jest fell flat. Palpatine gathered the front of his robes as he took a seat on the nearby ledge and patted the spot next to him for Anakin to follow suit.

“I wanted to apologize if it’s felt like I’ve distanced myself from you during such a difficult time. I wanted to offer you the time to properly mourn,” He said and then fixed him with a look that Anakin had grown familiar with over the past semester, “I understand you and Qui-Gon were quite close.”

“Yeah,” Anakin said.

“And it is to my understanding that you haven’t been very vocal with the mind healers that Headmaster Yoda has set you up with.”

No, he hadn’t been. He didn’t even know those people! How was he supposed to bear his heart and soul over losing two very important people in his life? How was he supposed to reconcile that with strangers? Moreover, they would surely judge him for the creeping eeriness that lingered at the perimeter of his heart.

“They wouldn’t understand.” He said, not caring for a moment how helpless that made him sound, “Obi-Wan can talk to them. He’s the one who got to do something about Qui-Gon’s death while I was locked inside the Room of Requirement.”

Palpatine’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, “I did hear that you managed to discover it…”

“Everyone’s been asking me where, but I don’t even know! It just popped up in front of me one moment.”

“You have every right to be quite angry,” Palpatine said, “I’m sure it hasn’t been easy around here for you. Losing not one, but two people in the span of a year would cause anyone, let alone someone as young as yourself, immeasurable grief.”

That wasn’t even factoring in Professor Fisto’s death, which felt a little callous to Anakin.

“And I could understand why you might be upset with everyone, including Qui-Gon Jinn, himself.”

Anakin’s head snapped to Palpatine at his words, mostly because of the gnawing clarity at which they resonated with Anakin’s deepest and darkest thoughts, “Why would I be mad at him?”

“Search your feelings, Anakin,” Palpatine said gently, “You know what I say is true. It’s not something many, even the healers, would understand, because while Qui-Gon did die fighting to protect this school and you, he still left a vacancy at his own misstep.”

Being mad at someone for dying also felt incredibly callous, but Anakin didn’t grow rash or angry at this explanation but somehow… Validated. He loved and cared for Qui-Gon and appreciated everything he did, but in the end, a promise was still broken and Anakin was alone.

“I’m not here to sugarcoat anything,” Palpatine continued, “I don’t believe friends should do that.”

Anakin didn’t think so either, which was part of what was so infuriating about these past couple of weeks. Everyone was trying to be nice, but he was only feeling the lack of authenticity at their smiles that didn’t reach their eyes and their empty promises of support. He’d heard it all before at this point. Now, honesty, regardless of if it hurt, sounded appealing.

“Obi-Wan hasn’t told me exactly how it happened.” Anakin revealed with a heavy sigh.

His professor quirked a white eyebrow, “Understandably, he might never tell anyone, but we can draw the conclusion that Maul got the best of Qui-Gon somehow.”

“I just don’t get it.” Anakin sighed heavily, “Qui-Gon was so invested in the future and the knowledge around it. It seemed like he knew everything.”

“Sometimes adults allow students to perceive their strengths in an amplified matter to give them hope,” He said, “I’ve never believed in doing such a thing.”

Anakin nodded, “It’s felt like everyone’s been doing that all year. At the end of it all, it was a kid who took out Maul.”

“Yes, but not on accident, Anakin,” Palpatine shrugged, “You of all people should understand that a person’s age and stature should have no bearing on how they’re estimated. In the end, young Obi-Wan had something that Qui-Gon did not.”

“What’s that?”

“Obi-Wan was willing to do it.” Palpatine said, “To take that step across the line of light and dark. It’s a careful one to walk, but he acted out of revenge and surely channeled some of his hate and anguish to do so.”

“And that makes you more powerful?”

“When properly used, yes.” Palpatine said, “Qui-Gon never believed in utilizing emotion in magic. He felt it deluded oneself. Dooku taught him that though…”

“And you taught Maul, who was only emotion, so which is right?” Anakin ran a hand through his hair. It was impossible to deny that the anger that Obi-Wan felt and the heartbreak of watching Qui-Gon die surely gave him a boost in power. What was described sounded like something he could never picture regular old Obi-Wan doing on his own.

“Maybe we can discover that together?” Palpatine asked tentatively, “You lost a guardian and I lost a student, regardless of the polarized intentions they had.”

Anakin nodded, “Just as long as I don’t turn out like Maul.”

“No, I don’t think you will, my boy,” Palpatine chuckled, “I don’t think you will be anything remotely like Maul.”

Anakin smiled as he looked up and over at Palpatine. It was a beautiful day and maybe, just maybe, he’d make something of it.

***

Although Obi-Wan couldn’t discount the somber atmosphere that still hovered over the school, it felt a little whiplashing how quickly everyone was to move past the attack on the school and the death of Qui-Gon Jinn. He supposed no one else had, had a front row seat to watch their favorite professor be stabbed right in front of them. Today however, it was almost like the whole thing hadn’t happened at all. It was the final Quidditch match of the year, the previous game, while incomplete, had been handed over to Slytherin per Hufflepuff’s surrender. The Great Hall was filled with excited chattering and enthusiastic yelling. The attention was off of him at least, many hadn’t stopped bothering him for all the gruesome details since the attack, but the excitement in the room made him feel like he was suffocating.

“Perhaps, I’ve ought to go get ready,” He bounced his fork between his fingers as he spared a glance at the doors, “It’s almost time to leave anyways.”

“Ben...” Satine frowned at him. He knew she was concerned, but she was polite enough not to bring it up.

“Right on, mate,” Cody came up behind them, a hand landing on each of their shoulders, “Early bird catches the worm and all that,” The Gryffindor captain wasn’t as eager as he normally would be. Between the attack and how far Gryffindor was down for the Quidditch cup, it was only his love of the sport that kept him optimistic at all.

“I’m not playing today,” Obi-Wan said as he straightened his silverware. Satine seemed to relax at the news while Cody's eyes widened.

“What? You sure?” He asked and Satine shot him a warning look, “Nothing gets my mind off things like being up in the air,” He shrugged, defending his point.

“I’m sure,” Obi-Wan just nodded, “I’d prefer my feet on the ground at the moment,” The last time they hadn’t been was when he’d been dangling off the side of the bridge.

“Well, alright,” Cody relented easily and offered instead, “Wanna walk down with us?”

His eyes caught sight of Anakin lingering in the doorway waiting for Cody, or maybe himself. So he rose from his spot at the table easily.

“You could always sit with me if you want too,” Satine let him know as she blew softly on her tea to cool it down.

“I’ll be expected to be on the benches,” Even if the thought was tempting, “I’ll see you afterwards? Studying?”

Satine nodded at the same time Cody mumbled, “When on earth are you doing anything else?”

He felt Satine’s eyes followed him all the way out the door.

Cody filled the silence with Quidditch tips as the three of them trailed after the Gryffindor team down to the pitches. Anakin had been a little quiet lately, so Obi-Wan was grateful that he had plenty of people surrounding him from his own house. He was sure that the Fett’s and even Padmé likely didn’t let Anakin wallow.

“I’ll try not to knock you out Obi-Wan,” Anakin announced after Cody had finished a rather long spiel of Quidditch related injuries from the past 10 years, “I’ve been told I hit pretty hard.”

He certainly wasn’t lying and as he continued to grow, Obi-Wan was quite sure he would only be stronger, “I think hitting a benched player is considered a foul.”

“It is,” Cody confirmed, but Anakin stopped walking just as they got to the edge of the pitch.

“They benched you?”

“I asked not to play,” Obi-Wan only paused in his stride when Cody did. Anakin’s gaze flicked between the two of them rapidly. Although Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what was going on in his head, he was clearly thinking through a few things.

“Should I- Maybe I shouldn’t play either,” Anakin said slowly, “I mean...” He trailed off, clearly thinking. Cody crossed his arms tightly, clearly not liking the idea of his star player being benched, but not willing to deny the request if he was asked.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighed grandly. It was so obvious to him that Anakin would enjoy the distraction. Much like Cody, Anakin clearly revered flying as it would likely allow him to clear his head and to work towards a simple goal, “You should play.”

“But I-” Anakin turned, just enough to look off towards where Qui-Gon’s funeral had been held and Obi-Wan tried not to flinch at the thought.

“I’ve never liked Quidditch,” He reminded his mentee, “And although I take pride in my position on the team, they do not need me today,” Nahdar Vebb would do fine just as he always did, “Your team, however, does need you if they have a chance of winning,” Anakin stood a little taller at the thought, looking towards Cody for confirmation.

“Well, it’s always going to be easier with you-” Obi-Wan cut his friend off before he could continue.

“If you really don’t feel like playing I’m sure Cody will find a substitute for you...”

Anakin hesitated, “It’s not that I don’t want to play-”

“If you want to then you should,” He stepped forward, putting his hands on Anakin’s shoulders. Qui-Gon’s final request seemed to echo around in his head, but he ignored it as best as he could, “You’re a fantastic Beater, Anakin. One of the best Hogwarts has seen in my time here,” Anakin’s eyes were watching him, wide, impressionable. Obi-Wan was reminded once again just how young he was, “Ravenclaw will be playing a clean game today. I’m not going to let you in on our strategy, obviously,” He shot a short, pointed look to Cody, “But Gryffindor is going to need all the help they can get.”

“Oh yeah? You’re going down! A lion would eat your bloody bird for breakfast!” Cody caught on to the energy and Anakin shook off Obi-Wan’s hands to go join him.

“Yeah your team has no chance against us!” He had perked up significantly.

“I’d think a raven could outsmart a lion,” Obi-Wan shrugged playfully, “Guess you’ll just have to prove it.”

“Oh we will!” Anakin called as he resumed a swift walk towards Gryffindor’s locker room, “You’ll see.”

“See ya after the game mate,” Cody threw one last wave at Obi-Wan before heading swiftly after the second year.

Obi-Wan shook his head. For now, Anakin was easy to motivate. He could only hope the boy would keep some of that enthusiasm in his later years. He moved to walk towards his team’s locker room when a shadow fell over him.

“How interesting,” Obi-Wan turned slowly to meet the narrowed eyes of his parents, “Lying to your friends in Gryffindor house,” She smiled down at him, but it never reached her eyes, “Unless you were planning on breaking your promises to us.”

“No, of course not,” He answered automatically, “I only thought...”

“You think too much,” His father took a step forward, blocking even more of the light from streaming into the space, “I don’t believe we came all the way down here just to watch you sit pathetically on the sidelines.”

“Of course not,” Obi-Wan swallowed the spark of frustration, “Had I known you were coming I-”

“-You should have anticipated it,” His mother told him.

‘You’ve never come before,’ Obi-Wan held his tongue and instead just dipped his head in apology, “I’ll play.”

His mother scoffed as if he’d said something so obvious. She turned to leave and his father gave him one more steely look.

“You’d do well to remember your place,” As if he could see straight through him he added, “Kenobi’s don’t show any weakness.”

He finally turned and followed her out, making their way to the stands. The Ravenclaw team who had arrived just at the tail end of the dispute moved out of their way.

“Alright Kenobi?” Eeth clapped a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, spinning him towards the direction of the locker room.

“Of course,” He responded easily enough, “Say Eeth, could I ask a favor of you?”

He would play, it was the simplest solution. His father was wrong about his reasonings though. Obi-Wan wouldn’t view having loved and lost as a weakness.

***

The atmosphere in the stands was charged with anticipation. Quidditch was always popular with the student body, but now it seemed they were latching onto the sense of normality with an iron fist. Many Ravenclaws had done up face paint and enchanted signs that flashed silver and blue letters cheering on the team. Gryffindor was leading chants from their end of the field and Hufflepuff and Slytherin houses split as the students picked a side. There still weren’t as many students as there should be, practically all those sent home had determined it would be a waste to come back to school for only a few weeks. Ravenclaw was down a few players because of it, and Gryffindor truly should count themselves lucky that their entire starting team was willing to play.

Even so, it seemed as if the stands were full just from the energy pouring out of them. Satine’s eyes were on Ben the moment he had been visible on the field. As if that was particularly out of the ordinary. She would deny such accusations if there were anyone brave enough to suggest anything. The familiarity of the whole thing was enough for her to not notice something was amiss until she realized that Ben was standing alongside his fellow starting players on the field rather than standing at the sidelines with the backups.

She sat up straighter, eyes darting around the field, looking to see if there was anything else out of place or perhaps for the reasoning behind the action. Satine had sat through her fair share of Quidditch matches in the past, but she knew she still didn’t know everything about the sport. Cody and Eeth Koth were sharing a word in the middle of the field. That was the only thing she could say was unusual, but not unheard of.

It wasn’t enough to make her suspicious of anything until Cody turned looking up at the Ravenclaw stands. She frowned, moving to turn around and get a clue as to what he could be so interested in.

“Nothing like the World Cup, is it,” A chilly voice that was unfortunately enough for Satine to recognize caused her to freeze in place and certainly not turn around any further. Obi-Wan’s parents were sitting only a few seats behind her.

“Box seating would be preferable,” Mr. Kenobi mused, “Hogwarts doesn’t show parents the respect they deserve.”

“Do you remember Beauxbaton?” Mrs. Kenobi asked, “They certainly had class.”

“We were there on ministry business,” He scoffed, “They hardly would have shown as much effort otherwise.”

“A pity.”

Satine hadn’t spent much time around the Kenobi’s when they weren’t berating her and her lack of status. Sitting nearly frozen and unnoticed just a few feet away, she could say for sure that they weren’t any more pleasant when left to their own devices. Blessedly, the players took to the air and both of the Kenobi’s lapsed into silence as the game began.

Of course that silence couldn’t have lasted longer than Satine’s patience. Ben hadn’t even done anything and they were quick to open their mouths and spew endless criticism from everything from his form to his choice of broom.

“None of your precision rubbed off on him,” Mrs. Kenobi muttered to her husband as Ben nearly dropped the Quaffle before chucking it hard and fast at the first free chaser, “He should be practicing more.”

Satine grit her teeth, sitting on her hands as they went on and on. Their voices were so abrasive to her own internal thoughts about Ben while he was playing. Where they saw a clumsy hit, she saw the way he considered each move carefully. Where they saw awkward form, she saw the way he was careful to stay on the damned broom. However, even with her own opinions about Ben’s performance, he certainly wasn’t at his best today. He’d let several quaffles through, enough that Eeth was hovering around the hoops nervously. Gryffindor wasn’t easy to beat on a good day and little slip ups weren’t helping.

“It’s like the boy’s never played a day in his life. How embarrassing,” His father scoffed and Satine bit back a stream of choice words and grimaced as Ben missed catching the Quaffle practically right in front of him and instead caught a bludger to the chest. He rolled a few times on his broom. It was enough for Eeth to finally call a timeout and Ravenclaw rushed towards their bench.

Satine, while grateful he was safe and firmly planted on the ground, didn’t like the way his parents made a disapproving noise.

“Ravenclaw’s a soft house,” Mrs. Kenobi spat, “I suppose it always has been.”

“6 years in the sport and he can’t take a hit,” Mr. Kenobi added, “Slytherin would have taught him better.”

“Oh look there,” His mother growled, “He’s got himself benched.”

Mr. Kenobi made an odd sound that Satine had to assume was some sort of laugh, “I can’t blame the captain. What a pitiful performance.”

Satine stewed quietly, unable to take her eyes off Ben or her ears off the Kenobi’s. She tried to reason with herself. Making such a fuss about it wouldn’t do anything to help Ben or her. No matter what she said they wouldn’t listen anyways. Still she found herself slowly turning around eyebrows twitching, mouth opening to give them a piece of her mind.

She only caught the tail end of Mrs. Kenobi’s long robe as she disappeared down the rickety stairs.

So they didn’t even deem the game worth watching if they didn’t have the opportunity to bad mouth their own son at every twist and turn. Satine growled, startling a few first years behind her before she turned back toward the match. Very well. She wouldn’t be able to prove anything to them in words so she would instead prove to them in her continued support.

***

Cody easily dodged a bludger as it rocketed its way back to Anakin. Despite Anakin’s earlier enthusiasm, he was fading ever faster. Cody was tempted to bench him just as Ravenclaw had done with Obi-Wan. Unfortunately Gryffindor needed the edge that Anakin could give them. Not to mention, Cody knew Anakin needed the distraction. He was only 12 and had faced death this year, not to mention he wasn’t yet sure what was going to happen to him when the year ended. It was an awful lot to put on a young boy’s shoulders.

Anakin managed to hit the bludger, but Eeth was able to dodge it just in time. Rush Clovis ended up being at the receiving end of the blow and he looked around wildly for where the thing had come from in the first place.

“Shake it off Rush,” Cody called with a wince. It was bad enough dealing with the other team’s beaters, without also worrying about your own.

“Sorry!” Anakin called, but Cody just waved him off as he moved to intercept the Quaffle. Taking it down the field and sinking it easily past Kenobi’s replacement. Vebb was a good Keeper, but he knew a lot less about Cody than Obi-Wan did.

Cody was nearly knocked off his broom as a flash of blue and silver streaked past him followed nearly immediately by his own team’s seeker, Moteé. They were both moving with speed and precision, trying to knock each other off their brooms in order to claim victory. He saw the glint in Moteé’s eye as she moved to put even more pressure on her broom when he also saw Skywalker raise his bat. Before he could call for Anakin to stop, the bludger was hit, rocketing towards them just as Moteé had pulled ahead.

There was a sickening smack as Moteé spun out, crashing towards the field below. The bludger still managed to clip Ropal sending him pitching forwards into the snitch. He flipped over, but managed to stay in the air with one hand. The other went to his snout where he coughed out the snitch.

“Damn it,” Cody cursed as he dropped to the ground while cheers and blue and silver sparks flooded the air.

“Moteé!” Anakin too had hit the ground, heels practically tearing up the grass as he screeched to a halt, “I’m so sorry! I-” Whether it was from Moteé’s glare or Cody’s warning look, he quickly cut himself off.

“Nasty hit,” Cody knelt down next to her, “I saw what you were doing, definitely a smart move.”

“Would have won us the game-” He hastily cut her off.

“I know,” She was swept away quickly by Madam Nema and a few other professors as Anakin approached Cody nervously.

“Is she okay? I didn’t mean to hit her...”

“She’ll be fine, probably just a concussion,” He clapped a hand on the boy’s shoulders, “We’re going to have to work on your intuition some, but everyone makes mistakes,” And when Anakin looked upset he sighed and added, “There’s always next year, kid.”

***

Satine didn’t waste any time rushing down to the field upon Ravenclaw’s win. She wanted to find Ben as soon as possible. He hadn’t wanted to play in the first place and having such a rough game, despite their overall win, wouldn’t do much to improve his mood. She was nearly to the field when she nearly got run over by Cody and the other Gryffindor’s filing noisily back to their locker room.

“Satine?” Cody moved aside, letting his team continue to file past. They were a little more subdued considering their loss, but the game had still been a much needed break, “If you’re looking for Kenobi, he’s not on the field.”

“How do you know I’m looking for him? Maybe I was looking for you,” She crossed her arms, but she glanced out towards the field giving herself away if she hadn’t already been so obvious.

“Oh please,” He grimaced, “I saw them in the stand you know. You aren’t here to sympathize with Gryffindor’s defeat.”

Satine frowned, “I am sorry you didn’t get your win this year-” But Cody waved her off.

“You know what they say, Satine, third time’s the charm. We’ll get you next year!”

“So,” Satine shifted on her feet, “If he’s not on the field...”

“I’m not sure where he went. One minute I’m giving my team a once over the next he’s nowhere to be seen.”

“Ravenclaw Locker room?” Satine suggested and Cody just turned easily in that direction, leading the two of them there.

“I figured he’d run towards the school, library maybe?”

“Well, his parents are hardly willing to enter Ravenclaw spaces, but I wouldn’t put it past them to enter the library if they’re looking for him,” Satine reasoned and Cody hummed in thought.

When they reached their destination, they peeked inside and her suspicions were found to be correct.

The room was empty besides Ben, sitting alone on a bench polishing his broom handle meticulously. Satine figured it was already well done enough to see your reflection in it, but he was always particular.

“Hey,” Cody called, entering first, before Satine could find the best way to break the silence herself, “Congrats on the win.”

“Oh, Cody,” He looked startled by the intrusion, looking past Cody to catch her eye, “Satine,” He smiled at her and she mirrored it with one of her own. He looked back towards Cody, “Thanks, I think I may have hindered us more than helped us. Sorry about the loss,” He offered his sympathy and Cody sat down across from him leaving Satine to drop down right next to Ben.

“Next year for sure,” Cody repeated with conviction.

“I don’t think you did bad at all,” Satine leaned towards Ben, the heat of anger that had been stoked by his parents nearly the whole game resurfaced. He leaned away surprised, “You did really well, you’re a great Keeper!”

“Thank you?” He answered. She was glad he had no idea what she was really getting at, that meant his parents hadn’t found him to complain yet, “I messed up quite a bit today, I definitely wasn’t on my game.”

“Well, you didn’t want to play in the first place,” Cody shrugged and the air between them grew cold as each member struggled to find a foothold in the conversation.

“We still won,” Satine reminded him firmly and he blinked at her before parroting.

“We still won.”

***

Anakin kicked a stone as hard as he could into the lake. He didn’t really want to go back to the common room and face a whole bunch of people he’d just let down. His team didn’t even seem that disappointed, but Anakin felt that maybe they should be. If it wasn’t for him, they may have won the game! Plus if it wasn’t for him a mass murderer wouldn’t have been disrupted the entire school year. He kicked another rock.

“Careful mate,” Rex appeared at the corner of his vision, picking up a smooth stone and flicking it so it skipped across the lake, leaving ripples in its wake, “There’s said to be creatures living in there. I don’t think they’d like to land a rock to the head.”

Anakin sighed deeply, dropping down to the ground, his shoes just brushing the edge of the water, “I can’t believe I lost us the game!”

“Yeah if you were going to take out our seeker, you should have done it earlier. Could’ve given me a chance to play,” Rex joked sitting next to him.

“I could have killed Moteé!” Anakin looked at Rex, guilt swirling around at the thought.

“You didn’t though,” Rex shrugged, “Moteé knew what she signed up for, so did Ropal, so did Cody, so do I. It’s Quidditch mate! It’s dangerous.”

“Yeah, but I never expected to be the one causing the danger,” Anakin grumbled and Rex laughed.

“Sorry to say, but I think danger might be in your bones,” When Anakin didn’t respond, Rex punched him in the arm, “Come on, you wouldn’t hurt a fly, unless it was a fly actively trying to hurt your friends. Sure, Moteé’s a little mad, but you would be too if you’d been knocked around twice in one year. She’ll get over it.”

“I should make her an apology card,” Anakin decided as he flicked a rock into the water, “I’ll leave it on her bedside table while she’s sleeping so she doesn’t try to strangle me.”

“That’s the spirit!”

***

Obi-Wan had been under the misguided impression that once the drama with Maul settled down that he and his fellow prefects would finally earn themselves a decent night’s sleep. Of course, once he’d drawn up those conclusions in his head, he hadn’t factored in the possibility of losing his favorite professor in the process. He never would have thought, even when things were at their worst, that the earth would allow itself to turn without the brilliance that was Qui-Gon Jinn. Even weeks later and for likely longer than he could imagine, he still struggled to sleep at the horrible visions that filled his eyes when he closed them. He wondered how long such a reaction would last and hoped it wouldn’t be for as long as he missed the man, because he would always miss Qui-Gon Jinn.

Satine tried to insist that it was okay to mourn and grieve and he knew she was right. He’d never judge someone else for feeling depressed over losing someone important, but it was harder for Obi-Wan to reconcile this about himself.

If there was one thing that helped take his mind off of the persistent ache that gnawed at his chest, it was the influx of schoolwork. If they were going to be remotely ready for finals, they needed to play a massive game of catch-up. Satine, in particular, still had work to catch up on from the month she’d been frozen in carbonite.

It’s what brought them to tirelessly working on outlines, notecards, study guides, and mock quizzes just about every night in the common room.

He nearly scowled just thinking about how easily Ventress had gotten off for her involvement in that fiasco. She could have permanently disfigured students or worse! She could have killed them and according to Satine, she didn’t seem to care all that much about if she did or not.

She should have been arrested or at the very least expelled, but no, it was simply a year of detention and her losing her prefect status to atone for her crimes. She hadn’t even lost any house points for Slytherin, though that might have been in fairness to the other students of Slytherin house. He had no doubts that her affluent family, or adopted family to be more correct now, had a say in striking up the plea deal.

Since his only source to any real information was gone, he didn’t know what she told them about Dooku. All he knew was that it was apparently enough to be useful.

“I think Yoda believes her more dangerous out there with a vendetta than in school,” Satine’s tired voice interrupted his thoughts and startled as he was, he really shouldn’t have been. He was practically staring a hole in the newly added section about countering carbonite curses. It was taught by Yoda himself and learned during his time away.

“Or he’s afraid what Dooku will do to her if he expels her,” He grumbled and held his quill a little tighter. If he was being honest, the words were starting to blur from the way his eyes glazed over in exhaustion. Maybe, he’d actually get to sleep tonight.

“I mean it’s reasonable,” Satine shrugged, “I don’t want Dooku to hurt anyone, even her.”

That was the admirable thing about Satine. Her consistency with her noble values was something to be revered. Ventress could truly benefit from taking notes. For instance, having morals at all would be a vast improvement.

“I don’t either,” He sighed, “That doesn’t mean I have to like what she did to you… And the others.”

He might have added that a bit too late. He’d been horrified when discovering Rabé in Hogsmeade, but he did guiltily admit that Satine’s freezing was different. So much so, that he wondered if he’d look at the place the same next time he ventured there. So much had been taken away from them this year. Experiences, laughs, people. He was sure this would be a year too heavy to bear had he lost Satine too.

She sighed, “It was truly abhorrent, but it was a bit like waking up when I came out of it. I’d expect the worst part was for all of you who had to sit around and stare at my stony face.”

His tongue grew a bit fat when he thought to comment that looking at her face had never been a problem for him and at his own reluctance to admit: anyone else. Still, all he could think to do was peer over to her forearm, which lay turned facing up on the couch. He could still see the faint little scars of nails that had dug into her arm.

Catching his eyes, she carefully unraveled her sleeve to cover them and he looked at her sheepishly, to which she only shrugged. She might have said it was like waking up, but he had a feeling that getting frozen hadn’t been like falling asleep.

“She still deserved far more than detention.” He said.

“Of course,” She scoffed, “Seems like she’s got quite the chip on her shoulder now, though. She’s been laying pretty low.”

“Even during the match.” He admitted and rubbed his eyes, “I can’t help but wonder if she’s planning anything.”

“Considering how she was dumped by Dooku and left to burn, I’d say it involves turning some of those witchy powers onto him if she can get within arm’s reach.”

“I’ve had enough talk on Sith lords this year,” He yawned, “Maybe next year.”

She snorted dryly, “Yes, I’m sure Dooku will take that into deep consideration.”

“We’ve only got a couple weeks left,” He reminded her and even as awful as this year had turned out being, he couldn’t help but be surprised that it was nearly over. “One more year left.”

“Don’t start,” She warned, “I’d like to at least pass my finals first.”

Now, it was his turn to snort, “Satine, I know we’re tired, but we’re not completely delusional.”

She closed her book and faced him. Her bright blue eyes were bloodshot and struggling with effort to stay awake, “That implies we’re delusional at all.”

“Maybe we are,” He said, “I know you aren’t ever one to hold back when you disagree with one of my less conventional plans. Not to mention your obvious opinions on my possible color blindness.”

“To be color blind, you’ve actually got to mix up or not see certain colors, Ben.” She groaned, leaning her head back at the armrest. “You’ve just got batty taste.”

“I don’t know about that.” He said, pulse quickening. Nothing about this moment quite seemed right, but he’d been delaying in telling her how he felt for far too long. Recently, he’d been shown numerous signs of realizing how short life was. And yes, Cody had been right, delivering the sentiment of telling her how he cared in the form of a card was cowardly and short-sighted.

Telling her at the funeral would have just been plain depressing and any time before that had been consumed with the very real fear that their lives were about to be taken away. He still kicked himself for how he’d parted with her before seeking out Anakin. A kiss on the hand? What was this? A Victorian period piece?

In his defense, that was where he’d gotten most of his exposure to the romance genre.

In between the deftly heady spaces of remorse that clouded his thoughts, he regretted not spewing exactly how he felt or at least properly kissing her to make it clear. Though the prospect of being so forward like that now reddened him to a palpable flame. Now, it felt like a moment had passed between them and though he suspected she had some level of understanding, it seemed she wouldn’t be bringing it up either.

Unless she’d gotten over it- nope! He was not talking himself out of it. They were alone, which was a triumph in and of itself. He’d never want something of this nature to be spoken in front of an audience. They were also considerably peaceful, so much so that he felt like he might actually fall asleep by the comfort of warmth that radiated off her profile. He looked at their hands and how they were only a quick movement from touching. What would she do if he just held her hand?

Maybe, just maybe, this year didn’t have to be so dreadful after all. Qui-Gon’s words about learning to live flowed through him and seemed to finally make sense as he looked over at Satine through lowered eyes. The very least he could do was honor his mentor’s wishes.

“Hear me when I say that you need to live your life.”

“I don’t think I have batty taste at all,” He reiterated after a long pause.

“Is that so?” Satine responded slowly, “I beg to differ.”

“If I had batty taste I wouldn’t be friends with Cody.” He reasoned, “Nor would I have chosen Anakin as my protege.”

“Mmm, perhaps,” She said quietly.

“I wouldn’t have such a preference in dessert or soft animals if my taste was foul and I wouldn’t like all the books you recommend.”

“Unless your tendency to appreciate ugliness is contagious,” She chuckled.

He kept his eyes fixated on the fire ahead, really struggling to look at her as he figured out his way around the sentence that swirled around his brain. It shouldn’t be hard and he knew the stress was him overthinking it. He didn’t dare to dream of the consequences, because he wasn’t sure dreaming was in the cards for him now. Really, all that mattered to him was that it was said and that she knew.

His first step in attempting to truly live was gently taking Satine’s hand in his, interweaving their fingers and admiring at how perfect of a fit it seemed and how soft her hands were. He took the way they immediately curled around his as a good sign as any to continue with what plagued his broken heart.

“Well, I should hope you don’t feel that way,” He winced, “Because… the truly defining reason that I couldn’t possibly have that much of a predilection towards the unseemly is you.”

She didn’t answer right away, but his nerves prevented her from really doing so, “That is to say, I think you’re quite lovely, or more accurately, I think you’re the loveliest person I’ve ever seen or met. Inside and out.”

Because he really didn’t need her thinking he was sitting around drooling over her looks all day, no matter how impressive he found them.

“Because you’re everything I or anyone could ever want. You’re beautiful, brilliant, compassionate, witty, creative… Really, I could go on for so long that I’d need a dictionary of proper words to articulate how in awe I am of you, even without romantic connotation.”

Ugh.

“But there are plenty of romantic connotations, of course,” He coughed, “I wanted to tell you sooner. And the reason that it’s been so hard for me to say that is not because I don’t feel strongly in this regard, but the opposite. It’s intimidating for someone like me, who’d been taught otherwise about passion, but my feelings for you go beyond and within logic, forming what I can only assume is… Love.”

Silence.

Oh, no, had he said something wrong?

He turned his head to brave the consequences of his words, hoping that she would at least be the good sort of speechless. She had kissed him at Christmas. It wasn’t like these conclusions weren’t coming from somewhere. That didn’t stop his head from racing at a mile a minute with other possibilities.

They stilled when he received the sight of Satine Kryze, passed out against over the side of the couch, leaning on the armrest with her full body weight, her hair tumbling over the edge in a blonde waterfall. She was captivating, even in slumber, of course, so he was left in the debilitating and confusing predicament of his heart inflating and deflating.

She hadn’t heard any of it?

He blew out a breath like a balloon releasing air and leaned back. It wasn’t exactly how he’d wanted this moment to go at all. His head was pounding with a headache and he massaged his temples. Okay, he was officially and regretfully scratching out “firelit study session” as a possible setting to express his romantic intentions towards her. He was beginning to feel like some higher power might genuinely have it out for him.

He looked back down at their still joined hands. Any residual disappointment fell away at the sight and he gently and tenderly raised her hand to his lips for a careful kiss. It was nothing like the firm and desperate one he’d parted her with before, but a true promise of hope.

“Another time.” He whispered and without releasing her hand, nestled into the comfortable couch, finding a blanket out of the parchments and books across their laps, and for the first time all month, Obi-Wan slept a fearless sleep.

***

With Quidditch having ended for the year and nothing else to look forward to beyond finals (a truly bleak thought for Anakin), he realized with sharp clarity that this might be the last week he spends at Hogwarts should he never be able to return. While he had previously been depressed, he was filled with a new sense of purpose. He wanted to make it count.

Starting with how he was finally going to get a few things off his chest.

He didn’t walk lightly or quietly past those who pitied him, instead pushing past them with a heavy force of nature propelled by his inner desires finally coming to fruition. Regardless of consequence, he was a Gryffindor fearless and true, and he would be owning up to that title one way or another this year.

He found her sitting surprisingly alone on the front lawn and nearly toppled over a loose root on his way. It was a beautiful day, because apparently Anakin was allowed some small favors by the universe, and would be a lovely setting to deliver the impression he’d truly wanted to.

“Oh, hi, Anakin!” Padmé was one of the few people in this school whose empathy and kindness seemed genuine. It was a tenderness he was unsure he deserved to be on the receiving end of, but welcomed it nonetheless.

“I know you’re studying, so I won’t keep you long,” He sat down on the picnic blanket without waiting for an invitation to join her. If he stopped or paused, he might lose his nerve and if there was anything this fleeting year taught him, it was that there was no glory without guts.

“Okay, what’s up?” She asked him warily, setting aside her History of Magic textbook and crossing her hands on her lap to give him her full attention.

With her staring so openly at him, he nearly got lost in the way the sun made her eyes look golden in their warmth depth. However, the very last thing he wanted was for her to think he was a creep, so he continued onwards with the last remaining gumption he had left.

“I made something for you,” He blurted out, hating that it didn’t sound as impressive out loud as it had in his head when he internally rehearsed this speech. Even without decorum, he dug in the pocket of his robe and pulled out the trinket he’d made from the mockups that Hondo sold as merchandise. It had a completely different paint job. It was tan and carved with a little square and squiggly lines at the center.

“Oh!” She clearly didn’t know what it was meant to signify, so Anakin had no problem filling her in.

“I saw it in a book when studying ancient runes with Obi-Wan, from a japor snippet,” Off her curious look, he shrugged, “It’s meant to give good fortune to the beloved of the maker.”

“To the beloved of- oh.” Her eyes bugged when she hastily met his gaze and dropped the little necklace in her lap. “You mean you… Like me?”

“Well… Yeah.” He said awkwardly, realizing this was not as romantic as he’d drawn it up to be in his head. Embarrassment was quickly coloring his features and he hoped it would play as sunburn.

Anakin felt like his breath stopped somewhere in his chest. She definitely didn’t look like she was about to go running into his arms and dance with him in the sunlight. He shied his gaze away, trying to figure out a way to play this off as a joke when she suddenly took his hand.

“Anakin, this is very sweet,” She said, “I just- I don’t, I’m not really in that kind of place right now.”

His blond fringe hung in his eyes, which was fortunate for him as he didn’t want to appear too depressed or forlorn. It was another blow to take, but a risk he understood. At least he knew.

“And honestly, I don’t feel like I really know you,” She admitted.

He looked up at her and frowned, “What do you mean? I feel like I know you.”

“I think…” She paused, gnawing on her bottom lip to find the words she wanted to say, “I think you might have conjured an idea of me in your head.”

“And that’s different?” He asked.

“Yeah, I mean, we don’t really talk that often.”

“That’s because I’m always too nervous to talk to you.” He answered.

“Why do I find it hard to believe that you get nervous?” She tilted her head to the side, flashing a smile that still warmed him up from the inside, “In any case, you’ve nothing to be nervous of.”

“Yeah, I guess the worst case scenario already just happened,” He leaned back on his legs, kneeling now in front of her with remnants of disappointment still tainting this day. He didn’t know why he would believe that someone as magnificent as Padmé Amidala would ever be interested in a scrub like him. The crushing weight of this rejection felt a bit like a wound being reopened before she squeezed his hand.

“I’d really like it if we could be friends.” She offered lightly, “I’m always in the market for more true friends.”

“If you’re just saying that because you feel sorry for me…” He trailed off, because he really didn’t want to be anyone’s charity case.

“Why would I lie?” She asked, “Anakin, you seem like an incredibly caring person and like a lot of fun, frankly. It would be my pleasure to get to know you and to be your friend… Just as long as you understand that that’s all I want to be.”

He thought about that and considered, not for the first time, that having more good people in his life to some capacity was better than less. He could trust Padmé and while she believed he didn’t really know her, he intended on getting to know the real her.

Then, he briefly thought back to something said to them earlier this year. “I just hope Miraj wasn’t right when she said misfortune will follow you for befriending me.”

She squeezed his hand again and his heart felt a little lighter, “I don’t let anyone tell me who I can and can’t be friends with. Friendship doesn’t come with terms and conditions.”

Anakin smiled at her, “Well, in that case, I ask that you still keep the necklace. We’ll call it… a friendship necklace.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, “There might be another lucky girl out there that you could give it to.”

“Nah,” He waved her off, “There isn’t. I’d rather it go… To a friend.”

***

“Poisonous plant that kills animal cells?” Satine was blocking her notes quite strategically from both Obi-Wan and Cody even if Cody was not participating in their little game. In his opinion, studying should not be done at the dinner table or really at any sort of event outside of maybe an hour or two in the library.

“Bloodroot,” Obi-Wan answered quickly, not even a moment's hesitation. He then looked down to his own notes without even waiting for confirmation, “What do the four golden statues in the MACUSA represent?”

“The victims of the Salem witch trials,” Satine frowned, “And may I just add how absolutely horrific that was,” She turned back to her notes, “How would one go about resisting the imperius curse-” She looked unsettled as she looked up at Obi-Wan, “What have you all been doing in DADA?”

“Utilizing strong mental fortitude,” He answered the first question before shrugging, “I may need it someday. Professor Fisto said those that can make the best aurors.”

The expression on Satine’s face was enough for Cody to cut in before they could start arguing, “Do you really need to be studying right now? It pays to take breaks you know,” The two looked at each other.

“I’m not tired, are you?” Obi-Wan asked and Satine shook her head, “Alright, how many known wand core components are there?”

“Three,” Cody answered dully, poking at his mashed potatoes.

“Nineteen!” Satine answered.

“Really?” Cody grimaced, “Glad I’m not in that class.”

“We could switch to something else if you’d like,” Satine offered and Obi-Wan nodded, “Charms?”

“Please no!” Cody shook his head quickly, “You might not be tired, but I’m tired just watching you go back and forth.”

“Suit yourself,” Obi-Wan shrugged, “We’re almost out for the summer anyways, you won’t have to think about classes for a whole two months.”

“Yeah, except every time I get an owl from you lot,” He rolled his eyes, “Last year, you sent me more book summaries than you did events from your real life, Kenobi.”

“The books were the interesting part!”

“Anyways,” Satine finally took a bite of her, surely cold, chips, “We’ve had a rather chaotic year. It serves to be prepared.”

“They should just cancel the lot of them if you ask me,” Cody said with a shrug, “We hardly had any real classes for half the year.”

“Oh stop! It hasn’t been that bad-”

Headmaster Yoda tapped the side of his glass, and a hush rolled across the Great Hall. He was slow to rise, but stood on his chair as to best see across the room at all the students.

“An announcement, I have to make,” He nodded, “Uncertain, our year has been. Unprecedented. The remaining professors and I, come to a conclusion, we have. NEWT exams and OWLs will be pushed back until the end of July.”

There was an audible sigh of relief from those students who had certainly been stressing it. Cody had to admit, had he been taking his NEWTs this year, he was almost sure he’d be in a full-fledged panic over it. Chatter rose in the Great Hall again and Yoda tapped on his glass once more. He wasn’t done yet.

“For the rest of you,” Anticipation hung in the air like electricity as they all turned as one to face the Headmaster, “Decided we have, to cancel your finals.” He barely got the words out before the whole hall broke into loud cheering.

Cogs in his brain turned quickly as he realized the universe had heard his pleas for once. He quickly shouted, “And I want onto a professional Quidditch team!” He turned to express his delight to his two best friends before glancing over to looks of utter horror and despair.

“But- I-” Satine was at a loss for words and Obi-Wan looked like he was still processing the information.

“Oh, cheer up!” Cody grinned, “This is a good thing.”

“I hardly think so,” Obi-Wan sounded quite like he’d been informed of his own expulsion, “How will we test our knowledge now?”

“You were doing pretty well on your own,” Cody rolled his eyes.

“Yes… We could just make our own tests,” Satine turned to him excitedly. Obi-Wan perked up at the thought.

“It’s certainly not against the rules,” He immediately scrambled for a quill, “We’d have to grade them together though-”

“Of course, I don’t want you doing it wrong!” Satine pulled out her own quill, pulling his parchment closer to her.

“You two are absolutely insufferable, you know that?” Cody crossed his arms, stewing, “Something good finally comes our way and you want to make it harder for yourselves.”

“Cody, would you like us to make you one too?” Obi-Wan asked, clearly not having heard him.

Cody stared at him long and hard, “Hell no! Leave me out of your insanity!”

***

Much to Ventress’ disdain, Headmaster Yoda’s list of announcements didn’t stop at the cancellation of finals, no matter how welcome that was. Once the outburst of mass celebration simmered down, the smiling little green Headmaster patiently began yet again.

“Finished, I am not. Announce the winner of the house cup, I will.” He said and Ventress felt her stomach turn inside out. All eyes at Slytherin’s table turned to her in immediate appraisal. They’d already won the Quidditch cup, but it was obvious they were concerned that her transgressions this year could result in slating them. She didn’t care about the competition, as there was no true value to winning. However, some under Slytherin’s banner took beating Gryffindor very seriously.

A pregnant pause filled the entire Great Hall as everyone held their breaths for the reveal. Ventress kept her eyes focused hard on Yoda and it seemed he caught her gaze. He remained tepid and relaxed, but never breaking contact as he spoke,

“Won, Slytherin house has,” He said and backed away as the entire Great Hall flew into even greater hysterics than before. The other three houses were understandably outraged while Slytherin was practically crawling on the table to celebrate their win. Ventress, a bit dumbfounded, did not join them in their hurrah.

“What, so they try to kill us all semester and they get rewarded for it?” Shouted one student that Ventress couldn’t see through the chaos.

“They’re monsters! Maul was one of them!” Yelled another.

“We lost how many points for Krell last year?” A Gryffindor, obviously, jumped in.

Her Slytherin counterparts didn’t resist chiming in, of course, since they were not the sort to be made victims of, “Hey! Maybe if you kept your head focused on your books instead of every little trollup’s arse, you might get somewhere!”

“That is enough! Take a seat, all of you!” Professor Windu boomed over the rest of the crowd. If he was good for something, it was projecting his voice even without an amplification charm. “First of all, Gryffindor House, you lost zero points for Krell’s actions last year, because as with this situation, it was agreed that his abhorrent actions were an anomaly and completely unfair to take the rest of you down.”

“Second,” Yoda continued for him, “Hard work, Slytherin has shown. The actions of one, they will not be crucified for.”

Once again, Ventress felt the burning stares of her peers. She was shunned by Dooku, who promised to reunite her with the Nightsisters of Dathomir, who would understand her, embrace her skills and her flaws as they were. They would be a true family, not the imposters that supposedly raised her under the affluent guise of success. Even these wannabes were rejecting her, save for those whose parents likely threatened them.

She clutched her fist. They didn’t deserve to win the house cup. None of them did. There should have been no rewards for any of their actions. Two professors were dead and a stack of aurors before them and here they were deliberating over a trivial contest. It was foolish and exactly why the Sith would easily be able to dominate them all. They could cast their disappointment at her all they wanted, but it was all just a distraction. It would be easy, in the end, and the commoners would clutch their pearls and act like it hadn’t been in front of their faces all along.

She’d told them what she knew not only to hopefully scorn Dooku, even if that would be an added bonus, but because it seemed they needed it spoon fed to them in order to begin tracking him down. She didn’t want to give Dooku or his master the satisfaction of seeing their future through. She never had any real loyalties to it, just what it could do for her.

Instead, she’d need to play the role of the dutiful pureblood witch and utilize whatever funds and resources to bring about real change: to bring back the sinister sisters of her bloodline, to take back everything and destroy the muggles that stood in their way. It would be better than the dogmatic Sith.

It would be revolution.

“So, if I hear any of you claiming that it was unjust, I’d like you to ask yourself, what more could you have done to better advance your house?” Windu said.

Quiet murmurs spread across the room and she still knew they were all indirectly about her. Someone pointed out that Obi-Wan Kenobi took out an entire Sith lord on his own, but another mentioned something about how he rejected any rewards for it.

Faro scowled from across the table at that, “Such a fool. Does he believe he’ll get anywhere in life with that sacrificing attitude?”

“I’d expect he doesn’t need to, with mommy and daddy’s money just waiting for him,” Miraj Scintel said coolly, “He’s not too bad on the eyes, too, which helps.”

She cast her eyes towards Obi-Wan Kenobi, who was chatting amongst some of his quidditch friends. She grimaced at his natural charisma that everyone seemed to fall for. It was sickening, really, that he could blend so well amongst everyone, even the muggle borns. That he wanted to. She didn’t get the appeal to his relentlessly charitable way of being. It was like he asked to be magnificently cursed.

It would be like swallowing a thick and heavy dose of the foulest medicines, but Ventress knew what she needed to do in order to accomplish her greatest desires. Next year was their final year at this putrid school, and she would do what she must to climb the ranks. He wouldn’t break easy from his band of misfits, but he would break. And really, Ventress would have very little to do with it. The way of the pureblood culture would be more than enough. Time was ticking and Ventress knew she had much to do.

She began scrawling in her notebook the terms of an unbreakable vow.

***

Now that finals had been cancelled the library was practically vacant, most students were spending their precious few hours left at school in the courtyard, on brooms or chatting by the lake. Obi-Wan could never think of anywhere else he’d rather be in his spare time than in the library and it was clear that Satine thought the same, taking up her usual spot beside him.

She was engrossed in her book, something on hidden secret wizarding communities across the globe. He hadn’t gotten around to reading that one yet, although he was sure he’d been to plenty of the places listed. He was sure she’d quite like Appleby if she ever got the chance to go. She turned a page and it seemed like enough to jar her from her focus and instead place her eyes on him.

“What?” Obi-Wan winced, he hadn’t realized he’d been staring, how rude.

“Oh nothing I was just-” He floundered for something to say, “Appreciating that we had time off.”

“It’s pretty nice,” She smiled, letting her book flutter closed and almost seemed to lean a little closer to him as she rested her arm on the table, “I do still have that evening patrol tonight.”

“You could trade for mine tomorrow morning,” He chuckled at the way her lips curled back into a snarl.

“Not on your life,” She huffed, “Perhaps, I’ll have fewer next year. Considering we’ll have the most seniority.”

“I’m sure as Head Girl you’ll have your pick of the litter,” Obi-Wan said without thinking and she looked at him a little surprised.

“I don’t think anything has been decided yet,” She answered coolly.

“They’d be a fool not to pick you,” Obi-Wan waved a hand at her, “Certainly there’s no competition, you’re the brightest witch of your age.”

“Well, I’d hardly say there’s no competition,” She smothered a smile, “But it would be a high honor to receive.”

“I was expected to get prefect,” Obi-Wan mused, “I didn’t realize how much I’d enjoy the position. I’m already honored just to have been considered for the role of Head Boy.”

Satine gazed at him for a beat, “Why do you talk like you’ve already lost out?”

“Well we don’t know-”

“-Don’t we?” Satine scoffed, drumming her fingers on the table in irritation, “If you think I have no competition, you’ve already won.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, “There’s always Bail-”

“-Ben please,” Satine rolled her eyes, “Bail’s incredibly smart and a good prefect, but even he, himself, knows that he’s not getting the position,” Satine continued before he could open his mouth, “Ben you’re the top student at the school-”

“Second,” He corrected automatically, “You beat me by half a point-”

“I haven’t forgotten!” She jabbed a finger at him, “I wasn’t counting me.”

“Well you should,” He grumbled, “You’re the brightest witch here.”

They looked at each other for a second, neither knowing how to break away, “That means I’m always right,” Satine pointed out, turning towards her book, face a little red. Obi-Wan looked away and found interest in reading the titles on the shelf across from him, “You’ll be Head Boy for sure.”

“Then you’ll be Head Girl,” He shot back without glancing over. They hung in an almost oppressive silence for another minute or two before Obi-Wan hesitantly glanced over. Unfortunately for him, she’d been looking his way and they were once again stuck, eyes locked together.

It was almost as if words were traveling unspoken, questions, maybe answers. It was enough for Obi-Wan to take a shaky breath and try to ask one of his own out loud. The one he’d been trying to get out for a while now.

“Satine-”

“There you are!” Anakin’s voice was quick to shatter whatever spell had come between them and Obi-Wan felt his face heat up and his heart race as he turned towards Anakin with a hint of irritation.

“What?” He groused and Anakin looked between him and Satine with a tilt to his head.

“I was just going to ask you to check over my essay...” Anakin faltered, “I can come back-”

“No, no. It’s fine,” Obi-Wan let out a long breath, “You only startled me. This is a library you know.”

“I know! You never spend any time outside of it...” Anakin complained under his breath, handing over his essay.

Obi-Wan took it and used it to hide his face as he glanced towards Satine. She’d gone back to her reading, but looked unfazed. She flipped a page and brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

“Whatcha looking at?” Anakin whispered in his ear and he glared at Anakin.

“Your poorly written essay,” He answered, rolling up said parchment to bap him in the head with it.

“Aw come on I tried extra hard this time!” Anakin sighed, draping himself across the table.

“You really need to reel in your tangents,” Obi-Wan pulled the red pen Anakin had given to him the previous year and scratched through a whole paragraph before handing it back, “Professor Yaddle doesn’t want to know how this relates to your favorite shows.”

Anakin spent a moment looking over his essay before pulling out a blank sheet of parchment and began to revise. Obi-Wan looked between Anakin and Satine and frowned. So much for a quiet moment or any sort of real talk.

“Perhaps, I’ll see you back in the common room then?” Satine placed a bookmark in her book and he gave her a sheepish smile.

“I suppose so-”

“Padmé?” Satine was looking over his head and so he turned to indeed see Padmé Amidala edge her way out from behind a bookshelf.

“Ah hello,” She greeted, “I was hoping you could look over my potions essay, Satine? If it’s not too much trouble.”

Satine sat back down and gestured to the seat across from her, “Alright, hand it over,” She leaned closer to Ben and whispered quietly, “Never a dull moment.”

“Never,” He grinned over at her.

***

“You summoned me, Headmaster?” Obi-Wan creaked open the door to Yoda’s office and was immediately comforted by the reminder that it was Yoda’s office yet again, no matter what qualms certain sectors of the Ministry of Magic had. It had been a unanimous vote, one even cast by Palpatine, to reinstate him and he was glad he had. It was nothing personal to Professor Palpatine, but his parties catering towards his favorite students didn’t exactly speak for a strong lack of bias.

“Indeed, in you come!” Yoda gestured for Obi-Wan to take a seat and he followed suit. “Important things, we have to discuss.”

Obi-Wan winced. He really didn’t want to relay what happened on the viaduct with Maul yet again to another person. He really didn’t understand why Windu couldn’t have just passed on what he received first hand immediately afterwards. There had been a lot of heavy sobbing and sniffling to get around, but he knew he told him everything in a flush of emotions uncharacteristic to him. That moment was foggy, likely at his mind’s own choice to further spare him from sadness, but he remembered being grateful that no one else was around.

Alternatively, the debate over who was to be the next Head Boy and Head Girl was buzzing louder than ever with just a few days left in the term. Traditionally, this announcement was made over the summer in the form of a personal letter that students usually hung over their mantles in pride. However, maybe they wanted to deliver some more good news in light of recent events.

Then again, Satine would probably be here too if that’s what they were discussing. Or at least, he really hoped she would.

“What is it, Headmaster?” He felt compelled to ask, because they sat in silence for a long time, neither looking relaxed that this troubling year was coming to a close. With Dooku still running free, it was very likely that a precedent was starting.

“Worried, for young Skywalker, you are,” He said calmly. It was not a question, but Yoda was never known for dancing around his point for very long. No, the lengthy and often riddled speeches were a trait of a professor who would no longer be bursting into this office without announcement nor would they live to relay another prophetic theory ever again. The weight of that absence sat between Obi-Wan and Yoda, though neither acknowledged it formally.

“Very much so,” He confirmed and tapped his fingers aimlessly on his knees, “I- Well, I made a promise to look after him.”

“To whom?” Yoda raised a brow on his wrinkly face, “Skywalker or your former mentor, did you promise?”

Qui-Gon always said that Anakin was the top priority and though he’d always known it, that really sunk in now that the boy had no one left but Obi-Wan.

“Both.” He said after a deep breath, “So, if you’ve brought me here to tell me that you’re just going to throw Anakin in some orphanage when Dooku is surely out there waiting for him to be vulnerable, I cannot allow that.”

“Sound like Qui-Gon, you do,” Yoda said, amused, but Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he knew how much that meant to him just then, “Cast Skywalker aside, we cannot.”

Obi-Wan relaxed his shoulders immediately. He hadn’t been sure what his course of action was going to be to follow up his assertion, but he was glad he didn’t have to come up with anything just then. He was just glad that Anakin wasn’t going to be left with strangers. It was incredibly cruel considering everything he’d been through.

He didn’t breathe completely easily yet, “But you’re also not going to lock him up in the castle all summer either, right? He needs normalcy.”

And a break from this place. They all did, as much as he preferred his years at Hogwarts to his summers at home. Obi-Wan knew he would be eager to return back in the fall, yearning for the bright memories this special place held for him. However, as it was at the moment, he could only feel the lingering sense of loss.

“Agree, I do, but find new normal for him, we must.”

“Until his mother is found.” Obi-Wan agreed.

“That might-” Yoda caught himself off as he regarded Obi-Wan with sad eyes and without the desire to complete the thought he started. Obi-Wan knew what he’d been thinking. It had been on his mind too whenever Anakin brought it up, even since it first happened. He also never said what came to mind.

Yoda shook his head and started again, “Yes, and find an alternative, we have. Or more accurately, found us, the alternative has.”

“That’s great.” Obi-Wan said, “A family is taking him in then.”

“Appear so, it would.”

“Well, that’s fantastic! And Anakin is on board?” There was something still odd about this meeting, a wariness to Yoda’s gaze that wasn’t quite meeting Obi-Wan’s eyes anymore. His body language was turned away, like he knew he was delivering bad news.

He nodded, long pointed ears wiggling a bit as he did, “Inform you first, I thought I should. Object to the arrangement, you can, but very few options, we have.”

“Inform me?” Obi-Wan repeated, “Headmaster, I’m not sure I have the faintest idea what you could be talking about. Who are they?”

***

“Anakin, darling, there you are!” Mrs. Kenobi came shuffling over hurriedly, or as much as she could with the trail of midnight green satin slithering behind her in long tresses. Mr. Kenobi took long strides behind her, leading with his infamous walking stick that always captured Anakin’s attention.

Anakin was indeed surprised when he was given the information that the Kenobi’s wanted to take him in for the summers and holidays and relieved that he would at least get to stick with Obi-Wan, but he certainly hadn’t expected they’d show up at the castle’s doorsteps.

Obi-Wan, it appeared, was also absolutely flabbergasted as he dropped whatever bags he’d been helping Satine with clean on the cobblestone walkway, much to his friend’s initial chagrin and gradual understanding as she rounded the bend.

“What the hell, Be- Oh.” Satine snapped her mouth shut and just focused on picking up her scattered things with Padmé and Breha at either side of her. None of the three girls dared to lift their heads.

“Mother, Father, you’re here… At Hogwarts.” His voice was tight and clipped while his eyes didn’t blink.

“We do need to work on your hosting mannerisms.” His mother didn’t look once at him and kept her eyes on Anakin, “Ah well, I suppose there will be plenty of room for practice this summer with our brand new house guest.”

“Thank you for taking me in.” Anakin said earnestly, because even while belonging on another plane of elitist culture, they still volunteered to take Anakin in the moment they’d heard he was without a place to stay.

“It is no trouble at all, my boy,” Mr. Kenobi ruffled his hair, “The servants have already taken the liberty of clearing out Obi-Wan’s room for you.”

“My room?” Obi-Wan questioned.

“Oh, no I can’t do that. I can just sleep on the couch or something-” But Anakin was instantly cut off by Mrs. Kenobi’s thin, but noticeably strong arms crushing him into a hug against her bony sternum.

“Nonsense!” She hissed, “His room is much warmer than the spares and only the best for growing heroes.”

Anakin wanted to turn around and shrug at Obi-Wan. He hoped he didn’t mind giving up his room for him. He knew he would be pretty upset if some little kid came into his childhood room and took over all of his stuff and space.

“And since we have raised Obi-Wan correctly, he will do the just and honorable thing and give his room for you in your time of need,” Mr. Kenobi’s voice was lethal, but Anakin still only had a view of Mrs. Kenobi’s laced neckline, so he didn’t see the look that matched it over Mrs. Kenobi’s shoulder.

After a pause, Obi-Wan cleared his throat, “Yes, well, I have been eyeing up the west wing.”

“Mmm, I think not.” Mr. Kenobi waved a large hand at him dismissively, “I’m refurbishing it as a second office.”

“The east wing, then.” Obi-Wan tried.

“The basement will do, you’ll have much more space down there to practice Quidditch.”

After a long pause, Obi-Wan only nodded and was giving Anakin a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes, “Sounds good.”

“Clearly, it’s needed,” Mrs. Kenobi added and gently pet Anakin’s hair to the side. It would have reminded him of his own mother, if her fingers weren’t so long and cold, “Unlike you, my little star. Gryffindor’s team truly does not deserve your efforts.”

He didn’t have the heart to remind her that it was technically Anakin’s fault that they threw the game and Ravenclaw won. Neither team had their hearts in it that day, though, and it had definitely been a shock to all of them when the Kenobi’s showed up to watch. At least they’d been impressed enough with him to still give him a place to stay. That had to count for something.

“The new broom must have helped.” He smiled.

“You know, I think it did. That’s what happens when you have the best of what money can buy, Anakin.” Mr. Kenobi sighed at Obi-Wan, “Usually.”

“Now, now, I believe our new guest warrants a special welcoming feast of his favorite foods!” Mrs. Kenobi said, “Why don’t we get your things and you can just simply come straight home with us?”

“Is that allowed?” He looked around at Obi-Wan as well as Satine for approval. He was pretty hungry and was starting to feel a bit cautiously optimistic at the promise of any foods he wanted. After all, they were filthy rich and if they were willing to share that money with Anakin, well, he might as well make something good of this whole mess. He bet Obi-Wan’s head would explode if afforded the opportunity to try a hot pocket.

“As long as you’ve got approval from a professor or prefect-” Satine started, but was promptly cut off as though she never spoke.

“Which Obi-Wan most certainly is that.” Mrs. Kenobi tutted.

“As am I.” Satine reminded them, but once again, they simply did not hear her. Obi-Wan’s mother’s lips twitched a bit, but she retained her bright glow as she reached out for Anakin’s hand. He accepted it, deciding he would get used to how cold they were.

“Well, I suppose I’ll see you in September.” Obi-Wan began to say to Satine.

“Right,” Satine nodded a lot, like she was flustered and Anakin squinted as he looked between the two of them. He wondered for a second if they were going to hug or something, but their arms remained at their side. It was weird, he knew for a fact that Cody had wrapped Obi-Wan in a headlock earlier and called it a hug, but it was still a hug. Anakin hugged Rex earlier. He didn’t see what the big deal was.

She cleared her throat after a moment of words unsaid, “Be sure to write when you can.”

“Of course, especially if you get- well, you know.” Obi-Wan shrugged and Anakin didn’t know and the Kenobi’s both stuck their noses up in suspicion. Mr. Kenobi’s long nose was flared as he looked down at his son that began to follow them. Had Obi-Wan’s eyes not been glued to Satine’s he might have noticed when his father’s large hand stuck out to catch him in the chest, preventing him from going on.

“-Uh uh uh, you’re not dodging your responsibilities, young man!” Mr. Kenobi wagged a long white finger at him. “You can apparate now and will do so from the station when you are finished assisting with loading and unloading. We’ve recommended you for bag duty again.”

Obi-Wan was clearly trying to stop himself from groaning at the thought.

“Get some muscles on those bones.” He poked his son with his stick.

“And don’t let us hear you were caught frolicking or lollygagging in any way.” Mrs. Kenobi added coolly, flicking her blue-grey eyes to Satine for the first time, “You’re practically an adult now that you’re 17. It’s time you acted like it.”

“Yes ma’am.” Obi-Wan said and nodded at Anakin, “I’ll see you later.”

“See you.” Anakin said with a sympathetic shrug. He did wish he could come with them, but Anakin supposed it was important that Obi-Wan keep things in order on the train. He knew from someone who usually caused chaos that the prefects were necessary to have on hand and that Obi-Wan was one of the best.

Mrs. Kenobi patted his hand as they walked down the hill with Anakin’s trunk and bags floating aimlessly behind them, “Oh, Anakin, I believe this is going to be a splendid arrangement. Someone of your caliber deserves the finer things in life. It’s about time you got to experience them.”

“Do you have a pool?” He blurted out, knowing it could sound rude, but was pleased when they only laughed.

“Try several.” Mr. Kenobi grinned beneath his beard, but it looked foreign on his lips, even if Anakin didn’t know much about the man, “It will indeed be refreshing to have someone around who can appreciate our way of life.”

With several pools, Anakin would at least try.

Maybe it was selfish, when his mother was missing and lost somewhere. However, he still vowed to find her and to see that she was safe and to unite their family. He knew in his bones that she would want him to be happy. She would always be his real home.

No matter how far she was.

***

Sometimes, a plan needed to be executed to the number in order to come out successful. It all depended on who the puppeteer was, of course. A true strategist knew when to bend the wills and patterns of the fates to adhere to the plan, of course, because not every variable could be accounted for with a third eye. No, it required flexibility at its finest. Even towards the end, he truly believed he might have been over. His position as Headmaster had been one he was ready to give up… For now.

No, there was much more he could do as a teacher.

And now, he accomplished two birds with one stone in a beautiful array of damage that Sidious couldn’t have planned more perfectly himself. Maul did as he did best and caused a chaos that disbanded trust between the Ministry and the school board as well as its students. While they would always try to slap a bandage on a gutted wound, they would find their results required much more than that when Sidious was hiding in the corner, putting poison to the casualties.

Letting them fester and bleed until the only thing that remained was an infected and unrecognizable gash that spread through the body, consuming and ultimately defeating its host from the inside out. That was the only way to get to someone, after all, but Maul was a physical being and would never understand the true power of the dark side.

Sidious had to see to that for a reason.

And all he wanted to do was destroy Sidious and his hard work and the work that had yet to come. It was brilliant, he had to admit, to turn the dementors against them. It was something he’d taught him long ago, of course, with the help of the night witch. But it had been executed brilliantly.

Instead, he proved himself the worthy apprentice for one last time where Tyranus had not, in destroying the very person that Sidious had his eyes on all year. Many knew now that the battle between Qui-Gon Jinn and Maul was a battle for Anakin’s very soul, but few understood just how terribly it had been lost. It was tragic, really. If Obi-Wan had died, they all would know. So for once, Sidious was glad for the boy’s survival.

There was still the matter of the girl, who would likely be a problem for Tyranus down the line, but that was something his apprentice reaped that he would need to sow. They could only delay the inevitable for so long. As it were, the girl could still provide some use in accomplishing Palpatine’s next feat.

He honed his sights on Obi-Wan Kenobi, who stood not quite touching but very close next to that muggle-born Satine Kryze. Like a damn vision, the sunlight cast a specific ray just to glow around him, symbolically highlighting why Sidious needed to get rid of him. Next to the holocron, he ran his finger around the rim of a chalice, a cup if you will, divine and extravagant though muddled with dust and a disguising charm to hide its true origin of where it had been won.

As it were, there was a fairly believable way of elimination arriving in his lap. Yes, Obi-Wan Kenobi would need to be removed from the story as he was in many ways, the final obstacle in his way.

“But first…” He drifted his yellow eyes across the room until he landed on the chest near the desk. He ran ghostly white fingers over the wooden finish.

He unlocked the latch and lifted the lid, drifting his eyes all the way down the hole that it hid until landing on its sole item: Shmi Skywalker, frozen in carbonite.

“What to do with you?”

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Troublemaker (Before)

Previously on Troublemaker

“See! You’re having a good time!”

The music pulsated through the streets, and Lexa didn’t care that her sister was gloating because she really was having a good time despite all intentions otherwise. The sun was bright and glaring without a cloud in the sky, and downtown was brimming with all colors, alive and vibrant, celebrating. And she as swept up in it, proud and overflowing with the music and freedom of being completely herself and being completely unknown in the crowd. 

It’d been a hard fought battle for her to agree to come with her sister to Pride, but she didn’t have anything else to do, and because of Anya’s need to be an overachiever, something they both ascribed to genetics, she was going to be doing an internship and leaving soon enough, thus cutting their summer together incredibly short. The guilt and her sister’s incessant need to prove a point brought them downtown for the day, and Lexa was almost okay with it.

“I knew you would like it,” Anya gloated, dancing around with her sister in the pulsating group of bodies at the concert in the park. 

“Is it always like this?” 

A gaggle of scantily-clad men moved through in nothing but speedos and suspenders, and Lexa let one of them grab her and twirl her around. The entire day, she’d been absolutely adored and adoring of everyone around her. An inundation of love and support was enough to make her unsure of how to go back to real life.

Her sister watched as Lexa danced, hands up, smiling wide and overjoyed. She enjoyed the fact that her sister came out to her and she could actually do something about it. Though straight, Anya spent her first two years of college taking a crash course in gay when her random roommate was a very out and very proud girl who liked to use Anya as a wngman. She was incredibly helpful in coming up with things to help Lexa feel normal and supported, and Anya was going ot be the best big sister possible. She was that type A.

“Pride is always like this,” Anya promised. “And you get to be super gay anytime you want. Isn’t that great?” 

“You’re worse than mom and dad. They’re like oddly proud to have a gay kid.” 

“Nah, just because you’re you.” 

“Shut up,” Lexa rolled her eyes and moved, wiggling around, goofy and carefree. 

For the entire day, the sisters moved through the crowds, checking out vendors, eating delicious food, listening to speakers, and got decked out in glowing necklaces and rainbows painted on their faces. It was exhausting to be so gay, but Lexa finally understood what she’d been missing in her fear of joining the GSA, and her fear of being out at school. She hadn’t thought about how wonderful it would be to not have to worry about hiding, or at least, not actively living. 

“Thank you,” Lexa offered, as the pair stood on the side of the road for the parade. She hugged her sister as the sun began to set between the tall buildings. “This has been the best day of my life.”

“You’re a sap.” 

“I am not.” 

“You are.” 

“I’m not,” she smiled and danced around, her sister not used to such a carefree girl in front of her. “I’m just super gay-- Oops, I’m so sorr--”

Lexa stopped moving after bumping into someone behind her, not paying attention and living her life too widely and too queerly for such a confined area. She gaped and stared at the body she bumped into, more mortified than she’d been in her entire life. 

The body came attached to a pretty face. A familiar face. A face with bright blue eyes, and a mischievous grin and a messy bunch of wavy blonde hair. A face that had a tongue ring. A face that was attached to the girl who protested the Sadie Hawkins dance, the pep rally, and last year single handedly turned the swimming pool pink for women’s history month.This was the same face that Lexa couldn’t help but stare at anytime she walked by in the halls at school. This was the face that didn’t even know she existed. 

Clarke Griffin stared back in equal parts amazement at the girl who did the bumping. In all of her wildest dreams, she never imagined Lexa Woods, class president, Academic Decathlon team captain, Student of the Quarter, perfect attendance-winning, overall adorable nerd, would be standing next to her at Pride. And not just standing-- dancing, covered in rainbows, and smiling in something other than a primly put together button up shirt with a schedule strapped to her chest. 

“Clarke,” Lexa gulped, unable to say anything else, unable to hide her fear and confusion. “I-I-I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bump into you. I was just… um… ” 

“It’s okay. Kind of close quarters and you were just being super queer,” she returned gracefully as she eyed the entire being of Lexa on summer break. “I didn’t think I’d run into anyone here. I thought everyone left for summer.” 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Oh, I’m always recruiting people for my zine. Intersectional politics and good music with a queer tint. Honestly, it’s whatever anyone submits. We set up a tiny booth,” Clarke explained, rambling slightly. “And I’m kind of gay.” 

“Kind of?” 

This was incredibly new and important news to Lexa, even if she didn’t know what to do with it.The entire school knew that Clarke ran with the same crowd, a crowd Lexa didn’t know anything about other than idle gossip. And it always looked like she was very close to Bellamy Blake. Romantically close. 

“Bi.”

“You have to go?” 

“No-- no… I’m bisexual.” 

Lexa felt her face burn and she wanted to melt into a puddle, right there in the early June evening. Maybe disappear into the sewer and wash away into the sea for the rest of time. But she didn’t. Instead, she just stood there, in front of the biggest badass tough guy hot girl she’s ever seen in her entire life. 

It was the longest they’d ever spoken, and she’d ruined it in under three minutes after learning that Clarke was gay-ish.

“That’s cool,” she finally managed, earning a small smile. 

Clarke pushed some hair away from her face and scratched her neck, using the pause to look at Lexa’s legs. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t try too much. 

“Is this your first Pride?” 

“Is it that obvious?” Lexa sighed, bashful at her display. 

“No, you look cute. I like the festiveness.” 

That didn’t help anything at all. Lexa looked around for her sister who made herself busy talking to other people and not at all available to bail her out of saying anymore words. 

“I’m gay,” Lexa finally blurted after a prolongued moment of silence. 

“That’s cool.” 

“Thanks.” 

A shout reached them over the noise of the parade, and both looked in that direction. 

“I have to um,” Clarke looked over her shoulder at the group that was calling her name. “I have to go catch up with my friends.”

“Right, yeah, definitely.” 

“It was good to see you, Woods,” she grinned as she backed away. “I hope I get to bump into you again.” 

“Right, yeah! Me, uh. Me too,” Lexa nodded.   

With another wave, Clarke was gone, swept up by her friends as they moved through the crowd. Lexa caught the look that Clarke gave her over her shoulder and she smiled because she got a look back. It might not have meant anything, but it still felt kind of good. 

“Your first Pride, and you’re getting chatted up by a grade A hottie. I’m impressed,” her sister slung her arm over her shoulder. 

“That was just a girl from school.” 

“She was not what I pictured for your type.” 

“I don’t-- I don’t have a type,” Lexa furrowed. 

“Everyone does. It just so happens that yours seems to be punk baddies with probable daddy issues.” 

“There’s no way you could know--”

“She was digging you too, by the way.” 

“There’s no-- I don’t-- She wouldn’t-- That was-- No,” Lexa shook her head. 

“Trust me. I’ve seen gay relief, and that girl was gay relieved you were gay.” 

“That’s not a thing.” 

“Don’t be mad because i have my ear to the ground in the gay community,” Anya shook her head. “I’ll have you know that Kaitlyn said I’d make a great lesbian.”

“Please let me die right here.” 

XXXXXXXXXX

The library on Fourth Street was nearly always empty around the end of lunch time. It seemed to empty out come the hottest part of the day with the normal crowd of parents and kids looking to stay busy during the long summer hours came in for story time and craft projects. 

With no particular impetus to move quickly, Lexa pushed her cart of returns through the aisles and rearranged any messy or disorganized stacks she found. But her head wasn’t particularly in it. 

Instead, Lexa thought about Pride, and replayed the entire interaction with a certain mild degenerate who had a pretty smile, who called her cute, she realized, halfway through overanalyzing it again for the hundredth time. All she could wonder was if this is what having a crush felt? And if so, was it possible to have crush after just three minutes? Nothing really prepared her for this. How could it? He didn’t have time for a crush. She only had to focus and get into the school she wanted. And then she could be who she thought she might want to be. 

“Hey Woods.” 

Lexa stopped as she turned to the next aisle, only to find the exact subject of her internal debate. There was a book tucked into her elbow as she retracted an arm reached out to grab something on a top shelf. Lexa looked to her bare arms, and then to her hips where a flannel was tied, and only subtly hiding her short shorts and some of the long legs and Lexa was gay. 

“I know it’s a library, but I’m sure you can talk a little bit,” Clarke smiled. 

Sunglasses tucked and holding her hair up out of her face, the girl had a motorcycle helmet tucked into the same elbow as the book. 

“Hey,” Lexa managed. 

“You work here?” 

“Yeah, just doing some little things, stacking, kids story time and stuff.” 

“Sounds fun,” Clarke nodded. She leaned against the shelf behind her and watched Lexa push her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. This was the Lexa she was used to seeing, and it did nothing to make her less interested, which was insanely weird. 

“Here for anything good?” 

“Uh, just some of the summer reading for Lit. And I’m kind of interested in a few SAT practice books. I took it already, but there’s one more that I can take before applications are due, and I’d like to see if I can do a little better.” 

It certainly wasn’t the reason Lexa expected, but she should have known better to expect anything from someone she really didn’t know other than through stories of stories of stories from other people. 

“Sounds like you have a busy summer planned.” 

Clarke laughed and ducked her head and Lexa tried not to be entranced by the action. 

“Have to keep busy between the protests and debauchery.” 

“Right, same.” 

“Everyone kind of left for the summer, it seems. It’s kind of nice, isn’t it?” 

“I was thinking the same thing,” Lexa agreed. “I miss my friends, but I’ve gotten a lot of things done.” 

“I’m sure you’re already done with the summer homework.” 

“No… well, just most of it.” 

“We’re two weeks into summer break, Woods,” Clarke pretended to admonish. Lexa shrugged, slightly guilty. “We’re going to have to find something to keep you busy.” 

“I think work will take care of that.” 

“You’re forgetting that I saw you at Pride. I know that you know how to have fun,” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows slightly. “And I know that you find me absolutely irresistible and cute.” 

“How could you possibly know that?” 

“So you admit it then?” 

“What? No,” Lexa shook her head and pushed her cart down the row, looking for the place to put the next in her pile. 

But Clarke wasn’t ready to leave, and she hung around, pushing off of the shelf only to follow Lexa and hover closer than Lexa could almost handle. 

“You checked me out at Pride.” 

“I did not.” 

“You did. I saw it. And you let me know you were interested in girls. If you didn’t know yet, I’m a girl, so the math seems to be adding up.” 

“Correlation does not imply causation,” Lexa responded quickly. “Your logic is not at all close to sound.” 

“So you don’t like me?” 

“I don’t even know you. If anything, I just find your face and,” Lexa moved her hand in Clarke’s direction, “that, all, pleasing.” 

“Good to know.” 

“Who even walks around telling people that they find them attractive. It’s maddening to have that much confidence.” 

Lexa jammed the book into the shelf as Clarke leaned beside her, grinning that grin that meant she was amused. That was also maddening. All of it suddenly was maddening, and Lexa missed the quiet of her shelves and wished she could go back in time and not let herself go to Pride. Then she wouldn’t have to see Clarke Griffin. 

“I like to have a healthy opinion of myself.” Lexa snorted. “And you should have one of yourself. Want to know a secret?” 

It was the smile that did it. And the eyes. But Lexa looked at Clarke and softened somewhat. It was due to the proximity, she told herself. Nothing else that she could control. 

“Sure.” 

“I didn’t really need these books,” Clarke offered. “I mean, I could have just ordered them online like a normal person. And I live closer to the Redwood Branch.” 

“Then why’d you come here?” 

“Hard to imagine you’re the valedictorian,” she chuckled. “I came to see you.” 

“Me?” 

“Yeah. I saw you at Pride and was intrigued. Thought I might feel it out a little bit.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” 

“Why not, Woods?” Clarke sighed. “I’ve got nothing but time and… well, I didn’t know you were into girls.”

“How can you be so just… How can you just say what you’re thinking?” 

“Lots of practice,” she smiled. 

“I could never imagine just… just… just…” Lexa waved her hands around slightly as she tried to explain what she couldn’t. “I couldn’t just do that. What if it went badly?” 

“Is it going badly?” 

“No, but-- wait. Maybe. What I mean is…” It didn’t help that Clarke was leaning closer and Lexa was stuck in the stacks with a girl that was flirting with her and she’d never had that before and it was way better than she could have ever imagined. “Wouldn’t ou have been embarrassed if I just ignored you or something?” 

“Oh yeah, big time,” Clarke nodded. “But my dad used to tell me to do one thing every day that scared me. Figured I’d get it done before dinnertime today.” 

She was charming and honest and refreshing and unlike anyone Lexa had ever met. It was a whirlwind. 

“I have to finish this before my shift ends,” she tore her eyes away from Clarke’s and looked back at her cart. 

“Right, yeah, definitely,” Clarke agreed. 

“I should do that.” 

“I should go check these out.” 

“Maybe I’ll see you around this summer.” 

“Yeah,” Clarke grinned. “Maybe.” 

Lexa stood there as Clarke turned back toward reception.

“Clarke-- I um,” Lexa watched as she turned around. “I’ve never flirted… with anyone, really.” 

“That is surprising news.” 

She could tell from her tone that it wasn’t news, and Lexa pursed her lips and set her jaw. She stood a little straighter, steeling herself. 

“I hope I see you around.” 

“We do seem to keep running into each other.” 

With a final smile, Clarke winked and disappeared. 

XXXXXXXXXX

Standing outside of the house on the corner, Clarke looked at the perfectly trimmed hedges and the flag that hung by the door. The lawn was manicured and neat, the house was beautiful, lit up and glowing with life inside in the waning light. It was in the suburbs and insanely suburban. A tire swing hung from a giant oak. A basketball hoop hung over the garage. 

For the life of her, Clarke wasn’t sure how she ended up here, except that she made herself stand awkwardly in front of Lexa Wood’s house. Three years ago, she met Lexa as a freshman, and instantly had a crush on the girl who argued with her in history class. But Clarke also decided to avoid having a crush on the cute girl who pushed up her glasses and tried very hard to be absolutely perfect. 

She still kind of always had a crush, despite her refusal to admit it. For the past three years, Clarke tried to make Lexa smile from time to time. She’d do something stuipd and make sure Lexa was watching. 

But Pride was one of the few times in the past year they’d spoken. And Clarke was certain that now was her chance, so she took it. And after the library, she spent every day for a week and a  half showing up at the library. She brought Lexa lunch a few times, followed her around the stacks, chatting and fully developing a crush. It was easy to do. Lexa was funny, and serious, and witty, and quiet, and smart, like ridiculously smart, and she wasn’t afraid of Clarke, or intimidated. She debated her with vigor, had opinions, had plans, and more importantly, had dreams. 

Clarke knew why she was standing on Lexa’s front porch, and she knew why she was slightly nervous to knock, she just hated someone being able to do that, in equal parts as much as she craved it. 

She took a deep breath and reminded herself that this was good before she knocked. 

“Hey,” Lexa greeted her, smiling and pushing up her glasses as she does her best to not look winded from running to the door. 

“Hey,” Clarke sighs,  matching her grin, forgetting all of the thoughts of before. “You look really nice.” 

“Thanks. I, uh, you too. I like the black eye in particular.” 

“Oh, this?” she motioned toward the eye that had a little bruising. “Just, um. Bopped myself in the face while working out.” 

“What were you doing? Boxing?” 

“Krav Maga. My partner got a little overzealous.” 

“Goodness.” 

“I’ll try to be extra charming to make up for my disfigurement. I hope your gentle eyes can make it past my horrible appearance.” 

“I’ll do my best to look past it.”

“Good,” Clarke smiled and handed over a helmet. “Are you ready for the first date?” 

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” 

They walked toward the motorcycle sitting near the curb. Clarke pressed her palm to the flat of Lexa’s back. She handed over a helmet and Lexa looked at it curiously. 

“For your protection. Have you ever ridden on anything like this before?” 

“I’ve driven go karts.”

“Not the same thing,” Clarke chuckled. “Here, I’ll help.” 

The helmet eclipsed her, but Lexa tilted it upwards so that Clarke’s skilled fingers could tighten the strap beneath it. She lifted the visor and watched Clarke work. 

“I feel like a badass.” 

“You are.” 

“Do I look the part?” Lexa asked, smiling slightly as Clarke hopped on the motorcycle and put on her own helmet. 

“Very much,” she promised, flipping down both of their visors. “Hold on tight.” 

The date wasn’t anything fancy, but Clarke was hoping it was enough. They drove to the park, with Lexa’s arms wrapped tightly around her, and she took the long way, nice and slow, just for that reason. 

The park was busy, fully of people ready to enjoy the evening and a movie. Clarke unloaded a blanket and her backpack full of snacks, fully prepared to show off her dateable skills. From what she knew about Lexa, she assumed it was her first first date, and she was going to set the bar extremely high. 

Before the movie started, they talked about nothing in particular, and Clarke was careful to get in a little teasing, which Lexa returned, smiling the entire time, challenging her. During the movie, Clarke let Lexa lay her head on her lap, and shivered because she gave her the only sweatshirt she had. 

Even after it ended, they remained, hanging out in the twilight and talking, hovering, close and unsure and happy. Later into the night, after another trip back to Lexa’s, Clarke bashfully stood on the porch and earned a hug and completely bungled the kiss, unable to read Lexa and unable to make herself that brave. 

“Did you have a good time?” Clarke ventured, leaning against the railing. 

“I really did. Thank you.” 

“Maybe we could do it again sometime.” 

“I’d like that.” 

“Good.”

“Good.” 

“Great,” Clarke grinned. 

“Great.” 

XXXXXXXXXX

It was almost like a game at this point, for Lexa to stumble upon Clarke somewhere in the library during her shift. Rarely was it in the same place twice, and rarely was it when she was expecting it, though she found herself always looking forward to the smile and girl that sometimes brought her snacks. 

For the first month of summer break, Lexa didn’t even realize she’d spent most of it talking to or spending time with Clarke Griffin. It just kind of happened, and she found herself getting attached. She found herself flirting, or so she thought. She definitely found herself flirted with, which was still so wonderful. 

Clarke wasn’t what she’d thought. She was insanely frustrating and still too hot for her own good, and smarter than she wanted anyone to know, while at the same time being absolutely addicted to her moral code and her’s alone. 

In a month, Lexa learned that Clarke was not in a gang, despite everyone thinking it was a gang, but rather had a close knit group of friends that occasionally contributed to shenanigans of a disruptive nature. She learned that she was a hell of an artist, sketching things here and there, and when they ventured out on a hike or spent time lounging around, showed her sketchbook very timidly. She learned that Clarke’s father died three years ago, and that was where she disappeared to freshman year. She learned that Clarke liked to work on her motorcycle herself instead of taking to a shop because she wanted to feel closer to her father. Lexa spent an entire afternoon learning parts of the bike and helping with an oil change. 

For an entire month, Clarke pushed Lexa. She pushed her to go on dates. She pushed her to jump off of the old bridge foundation at the river when they went swimming. She pushed her to watch a few movies she wasn’t sure of. She pushed her to egg street signs for the first time ever. 

“Excuse me, but I’m looking for a book about a cute librarian who has a crush on a girl named Clarke. Know where I can find that?” 

Lexa smiled despite herself as she turned the corner in one of the farther aisles in the library’s second floor. 

“I was just thinking about you.” 

“All good things I hope.” 

“More or less.” 

That seemed like good enough for Clarke who returned Lexa’s smile. The two stood there, close in the tight aisle, but used to the proximity. 

“I was wondering if you’d like to come over tonight. We could watch a movie and you could read my essay and give a million edit suggestions. I’ll even let you use your red pen.” 

“It shows up better.” 

“Yeah yeah,” Clarke humored her. 

“I’ll be over after dinner then.”

“Good.” 

“Were you leaving already?” Lexa furrowed as Clarke shoulder her backpack and shifted instead of getting comfortable or even grabbing some of the books to help her put back on the shelves. 

“I have to see a guy about a thing.”

“Just a drive by today, and no snack?” 

“Like I would ever leave you wanting,” Clarke tsk’d as she dug in her bag and pulled out Lexa’s favorite assortment of gummy bears. “I know what you like, Woods.” 

“You’re spoiling me. I’ll have to start working out more often or I’ll be too slow for track.” 

“You’re fit. I mean, you’re--”

“Perv.” 

“Sometimes,” Clarke shrugged. 

Lexa held her bag of snacks in her hand and smiled at them softly. She saw Clarke’s shoes nearly touching her own, and when she looked up, she realized how close they truly were. But she didn’t move. She just stood there and tried to figure out what Clarke’s eyes were saying, because they were furrowed until they weren’t, and then there was a peace there, a decisive calm. 

Lexa felt a hand on her shirt, grasping it near her heartbeat. Clarke paused before she did it, waiting for Lexa to pull away, asking for permission. Only when she got it, did she lean forward and kiss Lexa enough to take her breath away. The only thing Lexa could hear was the blood thumping in her ears, but she ignored it and kissed Clarke back eagerly. 

“Thanks, Woods,” Clarke murmured after a few seconds. “I needed that.” 

“Yeah, no, yeah.” 

“I’ll see you later.” 

“Right, later, mhm,” Lexa nodded and ran her thumb along her bottom lip as Clarke moved, leaving her rooted and blushing. 

“If you liked that, we could do it more often,” Clarke offered as she walked backward out of the shelves. 

“Sounds very good to me.”

[mermaidcashton]

if i knew you were comin’

author: claire (@mermaidcashton) ship/AU: ashton irwin/reader, baker AU  prompt: “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I almost never do.”  wordcount: 3344 warnings: swearing a/n: • written for @maluminspace & @h0tsos ‘s 5sos fic writers collab (in which we all chose from a list of AU’s and had the above prompt quote to include - check out the masterlist linked to see everyone elses!) • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘if i knew you were comin' i'd've baked a cake’ by eileen barton  if i knew you were comin’ ***

It would have been a real cliché had it been pouring with rain, the first time you saw him. If an unexpected thunderstorm in June had sent you into the little hipster bakery by necessity, a beacon of shelter in the form of a black & white sign that said ‘Dagger & Snake Bakehouse’. As it was, you were simply hungry in the rich sunshine, miles from home, and a sucker for bagels. That wasn’t very rom-com, really. 

The cliché came in when you saw him for the first time; laugh bright on his face, flour in his pillar box red hair. You felt every love-at-first-sight trope possible in that moment; brass band playing, lightning striking, arrows piercing. 

But it was raining now - slowly but with determination from the grey September sky - and you felt it, still.

***

The old fashioned bell above the heavy door rang out as you pushed your way into the bakery, immediately feeling enveloped in warmth. You shook off the excess water pooling on your umbrella out of the open door before you let it close as gently as possible behind you, spinning back around to assess the scene before you.

The shop was an assault on the senses every time you visited; the smell of 50 different baked goods intermingling and somehow achieving a harmony in your nose, the sound of the eclectic playlist they kept adding to filling the shop, and the assault on the eyes came in the form of bright hanging lights, extensive art on the walls, and the staff themselves.  

“Hello, you! Get in here; it’s horrible out there!”

You smiled widely, genuinely, at the greeting. “Hey, Calum! How are you?” You replied, stepping up to the counter. Calum ran his hand over his very short blonde hair with a smile that you were sure accounted for at least 25% of their sales. Not that you’d know; only one of the co-owners kept you spending more than you could really afford on focaccia bread, and he was nowhere to be seen.

“Can’t complain, real-well, actually, I can,” Calum changed his mind mid-sentence, face growing indignant. “Ash went to drop the banking off at Natwest 30 minutes ago, and Luke was due 5 minutes before you walked in, and I’m dying for a piss, and I-” The bell above the door shook like a hurricane had just come through the door, and in the form of a 6’2” blonde streak of limbs, it kind of had. “Sorry, sorry, I’m he-woah!” Luke skidded across the shiny white floor on his damp black Converse, windmilling his long arms until he caught one of only three tables in the place, and brought himself to a jolting stop. 

Calum rolled his eyes. “This fucken’ guy.” He muttered, but you could see the fondness painted all over his golden brown face. “Luke, I need to pee; look after our best customer for me!” Calum bolted out from behind the counter, showing off his black tank top and pinstriped trousers as he pulled his black branded apron off on his way to the door marked ‘STAFF ONLY’ across the shop. You could hear his Doc Martens squeaking on the tiles as he disappeared through the door and Luke took his place behind the counter, chucking his backpack through the archway that attached the shop to the bakery’s kitchen.  “Ooh, Ashton won’t like finding your backpack in his kitchen when he gets back!” You tease, leaning onto the ledge that separates you from Luke. The absent baker was very particular about his immaculate commercial kitchen and everything in it, and you knew something would definitely be said about the fact that Luke’s wet backpack was now lying on the floor by the ovens. Calum had once told you about a time he had simply moved Ashton’s sourdough starter across the kitchen, and the incident that had followed (and lasted for three days). “Ooh, won’t he!” Luke cooed, tying his own D&S Bakehouse apron with a messy bow on his stomach. “You’d know, being our resident Ashton expert and all.” You felt the flush begin to bloom on your cheeks before you saw it reflected in Luke’s stupid stainless steel coffee machine. You stuck your chin out as defiantly as possible. “I don’t know what that means, and I also don’t care. I’d like a Flat White, please, barista!”  Luke clutched his chest with a large hand, gasping dramatically. “So harsh! My own job title! You missed ‘Retail Assistant’ and ‘Shop Hunk’, but I’ll forgive you because I know you’re having Ashton withdrawals right now. Haven’t seen you since last week, kiddo!” Opting to ignore his needling about the Ashton situation, you set your own backpack on the floor as you let out a sigh. “Yeah, it’s been a bit chaotic this week. But I said I’d try and come by today, and I can’t live without Calum’s doughnuts much longer, so here I am.” “Yeah, that’s definitely what you can’t live without.” Luke snorted, filling the portafilter with coffee grounds. The staff door swung open before you could respond, Calum sailing back into the bakery. “Does he come with an off switch?” You groaned, shaking your head at the bottle blonde as he laughed and groaned with you. “God, if he did, I’d use it so often he’d never be ‘on’.” “You love me, they love me, everybody loves me!” Luke sang at volume as the coffee machine began to grind and whir. Calum rolled his eyes as he shut the door to the counter. “The girls from the high school down the street love you, I’ll give you that, but that’s about it.”   “The boys, too.” Luke wiggled his eyebrows at you ridiculously, tapping the used coffee grounds into the bin with a flourish. You couldn’t help but giggle; you’d grown so fond of Luke and Calum in the three months you’d been visiting the bakery that you considered them friends. And as you started examining the case in front of you, filled with the most delicious looking cakes, pastries and doughnuts you’d ever seen, you thought that surely friends with access to coffee and baked goods were the best friends to have. “What are you thinking, love?” Calum asked, watching your eyes flick between peanut butter brownies and cinnamon rolls.  “I don’t know; everything always looks so good!” You whined. “I think I’m definitely in the mood for something sweet, though.” “I’m right here, baby!” Luke trilled as he placed a steaming cup on the counter, looking very pleased with himself. “Do I need to tell Michael about this flirty behaviour, Luke?” Calum teased. Luke shrugged, completely nonplussed. “If you want. He’s so hot when he gets jealous.” Calum rolled his eyes again as he made his way into the kitchen. “Luke, move your backpack before Ash gets back unless you want to get bollocked!” He called over his shoulder. “Uh oh, too late.” Luke groaned, looking past you through the glass of the shop front, moments before the shop bell sounded out for a third time. You would definitely play it cool and not turn around if it was anyone but Ashton; you swear, this man is actually magnetic. The Hall & Oates’ song coming from the speakers seems to slow down as he comes into your line of sight, like in every movie you’ve ever seen with a leading man half as gorgeous as this one. Ashton was wearing his signature black boots and ripped jeans, with a white tank top and the leather jacket that you were sure would smell just like him; flour, grapefruit, sandalwood and whatever he used to put his hair into any of the styles that drove you so crazy. Today he had that one styled curl falling onto his face, and right now it was soaked and sending a trail of water down to drop from his chiseled jaw.  “You took your time, bread boy.” Calum called from the kitchen, doing Luke a solid of hiding his backpack underneath the furthermost kitchen counter as he did. Ashton huffed out half a laugh, running both hands through his wet hair and bending forward to shake it off as much as he could. “I don’t even only bake bread! Why do you insist on calling me that? Especially in front of my favourite customer.”  Despite knowing that you were currently the only customer in the bakery, your brain immediately began questioning whether or not he was referring to you. Then, he straightened up with his arms high, hands slicking his red hair back, and looked straight at you with unwavering eye contact. “Hey.”  That one word, combined with those eyes and him looking like he was in 2020’s answer to a Whitesnake video dragged your heart straight into your throat.  “Hey.” You echoed, hoping you were imagining the slightly breathless quality to your voice. Ashton’s serious-supermodel face broke into his brightest smile - seemingly just for you - before he began to stride past you to head behind the counter, shrugging his wet jacket off as he went. “I see you’re sorted with a drink; what have you chosen to eat? Or is this a flying visit?” “I was just doing my usual, actually.” You replied, dragging your eyes away from the tattoos on his arms to glance back down at the many glass cases of treats. “Struggling to decide?” Ashton teased lightly, tying his apron strings into a bow at his waist. You giggled, feeling inordinately pleased that he knew exactly what you meant. “Well, my lattices should be cool by now. Cal?” Ashton called into the kitchen, where the sound of stand mixers could now be heard. You hadn’t even noticed Calum leaving the shop to bake in the back. As you realised Luke was also nowhere to be seen, the assistants’ head appeared from the side of the archway. “Calum says he is a very busy man and he thought you had things under control out here.” You frowned slightly, not understanding the inflection the blonde had put on ‘under control’. Must be a private joke; one that made Ashton steadily flush down his neck. “Shut up, Luke! I just want the top tray on the cooling rack by the main pantry, please.” Luke tapped his head with two fingers in an ‘aye aye, Captain’ gesture and momentarily vanished from view. Ashton cleared his throat, directing his words back to you. “I thought you said you were going to try and come by today. I made Cherry & Custard Lattices earlier; you love cherry, right?” You didn’t know what to say, so opted to just stare back at Ashton in surprise until you saw doubt in his eyes. “Yes! I did, say that, and I do - love cherry. You remembered that?” The smile on your face felt like it was spread impossibly wide, over your cheeks and beyond.  “Of course! I’m glad you’re here, actually…” “Here you go!” Luke said, sounding almost gleeful as he put the tray of pastries on the worktop behind Ashton. Normally, you would expect Luke to arrange them in a space in one of the cabinets and carefully handwrite a little sign for them, but not today, apparently. He was already taking strides back to the kitchen to help Calum, throwing you both a look over his shoulder that was definitely cheeky. “Go get ‘em, tiger!” Ashton went so unbelievably red that it made his flush from before look like his natural skin tone. For lack of something to do with yourself in a confusing, slightly awkward situation that you didn’t fully understand, you picked up the coffee Luke had made for you and took a small sip. Ashton took a breath and seemed to steel himself for something. “I’ve got something to ask you.” He cocked his head slightly to one side before taking a slightly wistful tone. “Do you remember the day we met?” *** You looked up at the stark sign above the world’s most appetising window display. ‘Dagger & Snake Bakehouse’. It was a little after your usual lunchtime and you were starving. You’d never been to this place before, but you could see slices of puff pastry topped with everything you could imagine; asparagus, pesto, goats cheese, tomatoes, bacon, mushrooms - all topped with melted cheese, so that was that. You made your way through the glossy black door into the bakery, and were struck by how cool it looked inside. The main walls were exposed brick painted white, covered with a broad range of paintings, posters, sketches, photographs and signs. Black boards covered in white chalk writing detailing baked goods and hot drinks, opening hours and little doodles. Shelves with all manner of trinkets and decorations adorned any parts of the walls that there wasn’t something else. Sleek white tiles covered the floor, counters and the walls leading off to the restrooms and a door marked ‘STAFF ONLY’. There were ferns and succulents dotted around the place, and recycled glass bottles on a few black cafe tables with a single red rose in each. There were cases and displays of every kind of baked good you could imagine at the counter, running along the windows, and high above the worktops behind the counter. Stevie Wonder segued into Fleetwood Mac over the speakers in the corners,audible above the babble of noise of the customers already in the bakery.  A couple at the farthest table were tucking into big slices of two of the most incredible looking cakes you had ever seen in your life. At the till, a girl with a high ponytail and tiny denim shorts was taking a branded pastry box from a tall, skinny-but-somehow-broad guy. Another man with a black hat pulled low on his head brushed his fluffy blonde hair out of his eyes where he sat at one of the tables opposite the counter. He shot the staff member a beaming smile and a thumbs up, then returned his attention to the laptop open on his table. You eagerly made your way forward as the girl with the ponytail began to exit the shop. “Hi! I’m Luke, welcome to Dagger & Snake Bakehouse. What can I get for you?” The worker - Luke - greeted you enthusiastically with a toothy smile. His smile faltered slightly when you asked for an iced coffee to go with your lunch, but before you could think about it, he sprang into action as a second man appeared from an archway beside him, mid laugh. You divert your attention to the newcomer and your heart skips way more than a beat. He was, without question, the most beautiful human you had ever seen in your life. He was tall - though not as tall as Luke, but twice as broad. The muscles in his arms bulged through his t-shirt, and you could see tattoos on his arms and wrists. His hair was in a perfect quiff, and the brightest shade of red you could imagine. You noticed what appeared to be flour speckled across the top of it, and melted slightly more. His face was a set of perfect, sharp angles contrasting with the soft dimples in his cheeks as he laughed. You had never been so aware of every molecule of your own body. You felt tingly and numb and on high alert all at once. The urge to lick your lips was suddenly overwhelming. “How are you getting on, Luke? Did I hear an iced coffee order over Calum’s shenanigans back there?” His voice was like hearing a song on the radio that you haven’t heard in ages but always loved. Luke shook his head and played it cool, whilst the love of your life turned to you with a warm smile. “It’s Luke’s first day! Go easy on him. How is he doing?”  “Ashton! I know exactly what I am doing!” Luke sniffed, opening a cabinet door that turns out to be a freezer drawer and scooping ice with confidence. Ashton giggled again and held his hands up in surrender, shooting you another smile before heading around Luke and out onto the bakery floor. You unconsciously followed him with your eyes, across the room to the window cabinets where he began making adjustments to the display. He had to bend and lean to reach the very front, and after allowing yourself a few seconds to stare at his ass in tight, black jeans, you came to your senses and reluctantly diverted your eyes back to the counter. Luke leant conspiratorially towards the counter and you unconsciously mirrored his movement before he began to whisper to you. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing.” He laughed as he straightened back up and steadied the coffee cup in his hand before continuing in an airy, cheerful voice. “I almost never do!” “I’m sure it’ll be great, don’t worry!” You reassured, casting an eye over the blender Luke was working with now. You were sure it would be. Probably. Your eyes traced the white printed branding that adorned the apron on Luke’s chest; a traditional tattoo style dagger and snake.  “Why Dagger & Snake?” “Oh, that’s a question for one of the bossmen! Ashton!” Luke called across the shop. “Yeah?” You jumped at the voice that came from right behind you, spinning around and coming face to face with Ashton wiping his hands on his apron. “Sorry!” Ashton apologised. “I didn’t mean to scare you!” A soft, genuine smile played on his lips as you took in just how hazel his eyes were. You felt like you’d just walked up a flight of 200 stairs. “The lady would like to know why you and Cal named this place Dagger & Snake Bakehouse. Oh, balls.” Something hit the floor behind you, but you paid it no mind as Ashton’s face lit up. “They go together, to mean a bunch of stuff, right? Kept seeing them at tattoo shops, together. They can symbolise healing, the Roman god of luck, good vs evil; loads of cool stuff. But always together; that’s me and Cal - Calum, my best friend, we own this place, 50/50. He got the dagger, I got the snake. Brothers, forever.” Ashton talked with such conviction, and pulled his t-shirt sleeve with enthusiasm as he held his arm out to you, showing you a stark black tattoo of a snake. “That’s so sweet.” You breathed out, without really thinking about it. He looked at you like he hadn’t expected that adjective, but like he was turning it over in his mind. “And cool!” you added, nodding slightly. “You think so?” Ashton smiled, pulling his sleeve back down, looking quietly pleased. You let a few seconds tick by in silence, looking into his eyes to see what you could see. It looked like the whole world. “Yeah, I do.”

***

“Um...I think so, yes.” You thought you were just about straddling the line between casual and so-nervous-you-could-honestly-throw-up-a-little. “I wanted to ask you this that day, but I thought I’d sound so creepy, and unprofessional, and I didn’t want you to think I was a freak, or that I did this all the time, but-” Unless you were projecting, Ashton looked as nervous as you felt. “Ashton, point! Get there!” Luke yelled gleefully from the kitchen, followed immediately by a sound that you were fairly certain was Calum smacking him upside the head. The yelp of ‘Ow!’ that followed it seemed to confirm your suspicions.  Ashton faltered slightly, looking embarrassed and mumbling something about ‘idiot’ and ‘fired’. “Ashton.” You reached out your hand and placed it on his where he was nervously drumming on the counter again before you even thought about it. You weren’t sure which of you was more surprised at your involuntary action.  Ashton raised his eyes back to you, peering at you with hope in his hazel eyes.“You think I could get your number? Take you out sometime?” You allowed yourself to smile, widely, genuinely, as you knew just how to answer. “Yeah, I do.” *** masterlist for the 5sos ficwriters collab  • my masterlist

[libraryofloveletters]

December 24th

“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same” - Emily Brontë

Derek Morgan x Reader 

Warnings: fem!reader, Friends to lovers, slow burn (like really slow),mentions of death, injuries, and abusive relationships, cm level of violence, kissing. 

Category: Fluff with some angst

Word Count: 5k

Author’s Note: just felt like writing something for Derek :) It’s in order of your relationship with Derek, it’s kinda similar to lovestory that I wrote for Luke. Special thank you to @genevievedarcygrangerwriting​ and @iconicc​ for their help with this :) 

*For full dramatic effect, play Wonder by Shawn Mendes while reading* 

-----

This was a different type of love 

Much different than what he had with Penelope or Spencer or anyone else. This was more than a surface attraction, this was a connection on a much deeper level, something you couldn’t explain but you knew you needed. You had always felt like a piece of you was missing until you met him. 

April 16th, 2007

It was your first day at the BAU. 

To say you were nervous was an understatement, you were terrified. You had only met Aaron Hotchner, your unit chief during your interview. You had yet to meet the rest of the team. 

You were greeted by a tiny blonde woman by the elevator, who introduced herself as Jennifer. She walked you to the briefing room, she explained to you that you had a case and that someone would take you home to get some clothes quickly. Aaron introduced you to the team very quickly, first was David Rossi, who had very father like qualities,

Jennifer Jareau, whom you had met by the elevator and was their media liaison

Emily Prentiss, who radiated badass energy, 

Dr. Spencer Reid, who seemed very baby like but was incredibly smart, 

Penelope Garcia, their technical analyst and who didn't hesitate to welcome you onto the team,

Finally, Derek Morgan, the embodiment of the perfect man. 

Aaron told Derek to take you home to get your stuff and to meet them at the jet. On the drive to your place, Derek made small talk, asking you about your previous jobs, why you decided to join the bureau.

“It was a spur of the moment thing actually, I came across the application and figured why not? Because what’s the worst that happens y’know?” you chuckled, Derek flashing you a smile before pulling into your driveway. 

“You live here by yourself ? Aren’t you only 26?” he looked at you and then back at your house. That was a typical reaction, it was a huge house with a huge property attached to it, it was on the outskirts of the city. “It’s a family house, it was passed down to me after my parents’ passed” you told him and changed the topic before he could ask questions about your parents. “Would you like to come in while I get my stuff? I might be a few minutes. The least I could do is offer you something to drink while you wait?” He nodded, getting out while you did. 

You stepped and headed towards the stairs, “help yourself to anything in the kitchen, it’s straight down the hall” you smiled at him.

“Okay” he smiled, watching you make your way up the stairs. 

December 24th, 2010 

The white lights burned your eyes as you opened them, squinting to slowly readjust your eyes to the brightness. You looked around, trying to remember what happened. 

The last thing you remember was Spencer and Derek over you. Spencer’s hand on your stomach and Derek holding your hand while shouting for a medic. Something about holding on were the last words you heard before waking up in the hospital. 

Derek was curled up on the chair in your room. He looked out of place on the chair, it was too tiny for him. “Der..” you said, barely above a whisper. Your throat was dry and you were too tired to talk but you needed to know what happened. There was an empty water bottle beside your bed, you stretched your arm out and pushed the bottle off of the table. It hit the floor, the noise startled Derek and he sat up in his chair. 

He took a look around to see you looking at him, “Hey mama, how are you feeling ?” he pulled the chair closer to your bed, sitting himself back down. His hand rested on yours, his thumb rubbing over the top of your hand. 

“What happened?” you asked, leaning back onto the pillow. He let out a sigh before speaking. “Spencer, you and I went to the house, the unsub’s house. Pretty boy and I went through the front and you headed to the back to check the yard. We were upstairs when we heard the gunshot, we ran out to see you on the floor. There was a bullet in your side and the unsub was headed towards the front of the house” Derek looked up at you, unsure if he should continue.

“Did you get him?” you asked, he nodded. “Hotch and the team had just arrived when we heard the shot. Hotch caught him in the front” you let out a sigh. “I ran to the back, Spencer was trying to stop the bleeding but it wasn’t stopping” his voice wavered for a moment, you gave his hand a squeeze. 

“It was touch and go when the medics arrived, Spencer did the best he could. We thought we were going to lose you, I thought I was going to lose you.” Derek wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve, not in the field but here, in this hospital room with you, he did. 

“You didn't think that you would be able to get rid of me so quickly, did you?” you gave him a small smile. You picked up your phone from the side table, it was Christmas Eve. “Derek, go home. You shouldn't spend your Christmas Eve stuck in a hospital” you looked over at him, he had made himself comfortable in his chair again. 

“There's nowhere I'd rather be right now” 

June 6th, 2011 

Your case in Chicago had wrapped up. The flight was meant to be a day before but due to a sudden thunderstorm that came through, you were stuck there. 

Derek’s mother was kind enough to have all of you over for dinner, even though you all insisted that she didn’t have too. After dinner, Aaron and Rossi headed back to the hotel first, thanking her for her hospitality before heading out. Emily and JJ made themselves comfortable with Derek’s sisters and a bottle of wine, sharing stories of past lovers and tragic high school romances. Derek’s mom had you and Spencer flipping through photo albums, telling you stories of all kinds of trouble Derek caused as a kid. 

Emily, JJ, Spencer, Derek and yourself ended up spending the night there. Hotch and Rossi had picked up your bags from your rooms, because you all had packed prior to finding out about the delayed flight and suggested you just meet at the jet. It was around 6am when you found yourself hugging Derek’s mother goodbye. Derek waited back a few moments, his mom whispering something to him before letting him go. 

The drive to the jet was silent. JJ and Emily were hungover from too much wine, Spencer was half asleep and you were still trying to wake up while Derek drove. “It was nice to meet your mom, she’s sweet” you whispered, Emily still groaned that you were too loud. “She likes you” Derek glanced over at you before turning his attention back to the road. 

When you arrived to the jet, everyone made themselves comfortable for the journey home. Emily sprawled onto one of the two seaters while JJ made herself comfortable on the other, Hotch and Rossi were sitting across from each other with their coffee. Spencer stretched himself over the span of the couch, going back to sleep. You and Derek sat beside each other on the two seater that was left. 

The flight back was quiet, the only sounds were Spencer turning over constantly on the couch, Emily snoring and Hotch’s pen scribbling away on his paper. Derek’s arm rested over your shoulder and your head was on his shoulder. 

“What’s the date?” Hotch asked Rossi 

“June 6th” he said

June 6th seemed so familiar to you, as if you were supposed to remember it. You sat there pondering about it for a few minutes before Derek’s voice broke through your thoughts.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I can't seem to place why June 6th is important” you mumbled before looking out the window 

Derek hummed, not giving you an answer. You went over the events of your day to see if you could remember. Woke up to a call from Hotch, woke up everyone, said goodbye to Derek’s family, Derek’s lingering hug and whisper from his mom, the drive to the jet, Hotch asking the date. 

Derek’s lingering hug and whisper from his mom. 

June 6th.

It was his birthday. 

You sat up and turned to him, he looked at you. “What’s wrong?” his brows furrowed, confused as to why you moved. You pulled him into a hug, “Happy birthday D” He chuckled, “thank you pretty lady” 

You leaned into kiss his cheek but he had the same idea, resulting in your lips on his. He smiled against your lips, pulling you closer to him. Your hands found their way to his chest, resting there as you kissed him. 

He pulled away, both of you breathless. 

October 26th 2012 

You walked to work in the rain. 

You had woken up late, you didn't feel like going but you promised Spencer you would help him prank Derek for halloween. You had just ended your relationship, you couldn’t take it anymore. You were constantly fighting and he always said you picked your work over him, which you did but that was only because work was the only escape you had.

No one at work knew about your boyfriend, other than Hotch. He had walked into the stairwell to find you crying, you explained to him what had happened. You made him promise not to tell anyone, especially Derek. You knew how Derek was, he would have killed your boyfriend if he found out. Hotch didn’t know the full extent of your relationships, just the arguments and the sleepless nights. You often found yourself in his office, keeping him company while he worked just so you wouldn't have to go home. 

You were soaking wet by the time you reached the BAU, you walked straight to Derek’s office. His back was to the door when you walked in, “just a sec” he mumbled when you pushed the door shut. He spun his chair, “hey ma- what happened?” there was a very noticeable frown on your face. He stood up and walked over, he went to give you a hug. Your first reaction was to take a step back and secondly, your body automatically flinched. 

“hey, hey, baby... it’s just me. it’s okay. I won’t hurt you.” He stayed where he was, his face was unreadable. “y/n..” he called for you, you walked over. You practically fell into his arms, clinging onto him. His arms wrapped around you slowly, not wanting to startle you anymore than he already had. 

“You know I would never touch you like that or hurt you, you know that right?” he kissed the top of your head, your face still buried in his chest. Something about Derek always brought comfort to you. Sometimes it’s his smile, sometimes it’s a hug and other times, it’s just him as a whole. “Do you want to talk about it ?” he asked you quietly, you shook your head. “Let me take you home to change” you shook your head again, 

“I don’t want to go home”

“You can’t stay in wet clothes all day. Let me just take you home to get stuff and then we can go back to my place ?” 

He led you to the car, you both sat in silence the whole drive. He knew you’d tell him what happened when you were ready, it didn’t make sense to push you. He pulled into the driveway, “can you come in with me?” you mumbled, he nodded. You weren't sure if your ex boyfriend was there to get his stuff, he knew you'd be at work right now so there was a chance that he had stopped by. 

You pushed the door open, there was a broken vase on the floor, the water and flowers from the vase spread across the floor. A picture frame of you and your ex thrown on the floor, a dent on the wall from where he had thrown it. 

Derek didn’t say anything, he followed you up the stairs to your bedroom. Your clothes were thrown all over your room, the drawers from your dresser were pulled out and a few were on the floor, a perfume bottle was shattered on the bathroom floor, the contents of the bottle spilling everywhere. 

You sat on the bed, the tears started to fall. You tried to hold yourself together, you wasted so much of your life on him and you thought you were finally done. Derek sat beside you, letting you cry on his shoulder. 

“Baby, talk to me.. please”

You told him everything, from the moment you realized you were in love to when you realized that this wasn't love, from when you told Hotch and how you would spend nights with him in his office so you wouldn’t have to go home. You told him how you ended things last night, and that the house was fine before you left for work. 

Derek looked sad, not only for you but for himself too, why didn’t he realize what was happening sooner? If he did, he would have helped you.

“Okay, this is what we’re going to do mama. You’re going to pack a bag and you’re staying with me for a few days. I’m going to change all the locks and latches in this house and put in an alarm system. Don’t even bother about the mess, I'll clean it up, you just need to get out of here” he gave you a hug. 

“I promise you that he’ll never hurt you again” 

December 24th, 2012 

The entire team had come over for Christmas Eve dinner at your place. After everything that happened with your ex, Derek made good on his promises. He changed everything and put in an alarm system for you. He helped you move on, he stuck by yourself when you felt alone and lost. You found yourself spending more and more time with him. 

Rossi had come over and helped you cook. Penelope and Spencer spent the afternoon locked up in your guest bedroom wrapping gifts, one of them stepping out for a few hours to find more tape or wrapping paper. JJ and Will arrived with the boys, Hotch and Jack showing up a few minutes later. Emily arrived next with a bottle of wine for you, and Derek arrived last with a bunch of bags and gifts. Spencer helped him put all of them under the tree. 

After dinner, Hotch and Rossi stayed at your dining room table with a bottle of scotch while you, JJ, Penelope and Emily were in the kitchen with a bottle of wine. You could hear Derek chasing Jack and Michael around the living room, Will and Spencer laughing as Henry showed them a magic trick. You glance over at them, Derek is spinning Jack around and Micheal is on the floor, laughing. You can’t help but smile. 

“Close your mouth sweet cheeks, you’re going to drool all over yourself” Penelope whispers to you, nudging your shoulder with hers. You blush but blamed it on too much wine, “I have no clue what you’re talking about” 

“Whatever you say sugar, but I can see the looks you give chocolate thunder and the ones he’s been giving you” she takes a sip of her wine before turning to walk to the living room. “Wait! what looks?” you ask and she shakes her head.

Penelope calls everyone into the living room, everyone has found a spot and made themselves comfortable. Jack, Henry, Michael and Spencer have all made themselves comfortable on the floor in front of the tree. Penelope helped you pass the gifts out to everyone.

Two hours and 8 rolls of gift paper later, everyone had collected their presents and said goodnight before leaving, Derek stayed back to help you tidy up. “You didn’t have to stay back, I know you probably have better things to do on Christmas Eve” you chuckled, pushing the gift paper into the trash. “Y/n, like I told you the last time, there’s nowhere I rather be on Christmas Eve” 

You smiled at him, remembering that he was talking about the night he spent in the hospital with you. “Thank you though” he nodded.

“Do you want something to drink ? Coffee? Tea?” 

“Tea sounds good” He sat on the kitchen stool by your counter. 

You turned yourself away from him to put some water in the kettle. Derek was shifting around with something behind you, something heavy landed on the counter. Turning around, there was a book on the counter. 

Pride and Prejudice 

It wasn’t just any copy, it was the exact one that your grandfather had gotten you for your 17th birthday. It went missing after your breakup, you figured your ex took it but you weren't up for fighting with him over a book. 

“Derek.. where’d you get this?” you looked down at the book, your fingers running over the front of it.

“Baby girl tracked down someone that knew someone else and I got it for you. I remember you were looking for it after the breakup” 

You never expected Derek to remember something like that, it was just a passing thought as you cleaned up your place, you had forgotten about it yourself. 

“Do you like it?” Derek’s voice broke through your thoughts. You rounded the counter and pulled him into a hug. “I love it, thank you” 

“Merry Christmas y/n” 

“Merry Christmas Derek” 

January 13th, 2013

“Did she like her gift?” was the first thing Penelope asked Derek when he walked into her office. Hotch had given you guys 3 weeks off for the holidays and all of you were now returning to work. Penelope had a lot of time to ponder about her best friend and his crush. 

“Yes she did, thank you for your help baby girl” he leaned down and kissed her cheek, she smiled at him. “Okay spill now” she spun her chair around to face Derek who was leaning against one of the tables. 

“What is there to spill mama?” he chuckled 

“Don’t play stupid with me Derek Morgan. You and y/n, you’ve been spending so much time with her” she told him 

“Awh, are you jealous baby girl? you know you’re my one and only” he laughed 

She shook her head, laughing. “As much as I like hearing that, seriously. What’s going on? I know you care about all of us but you wouldn't have gone out of your way for just a book if it was Emily or Rossi” 

Maybe she was right, there were some underlying feelings that he hadn't told anyone about. “Baby, I think you like her” Penelope looked at him, he shook his head, 

“No, I don’t” 

“Yes, you do” 

“No, I don’t” 

“You do!”

“I don’t!” 

“Derek!” 

“Penelope!” 

“You like her!” 

“I like her! Oh shit.. I like her” his mouth hung open, his brows furrowed. She giggled, “told you so, momma’s always right baby boy” she tapped his leg with her foot. 

He sat beside her on the chair. “What do I-” she cut him off. 

“I’ll tell you what you’re going to do. You’re going to tell that wonderful lady that you like her and should you be so lucky that she likes you back, you take her out on a date, like none other before. You love her and treat her well or I will hurt you” She smiled sweetly at him. 

“You understand me?” she asked him, he nodded before resting his head on her shoulder. Her hand came up to rest on his cheek, she kissed his forehead. 

February 13th, 2013

“Y/n!” Derek shouted for you as you stepped off the elevator. “Hey!” you smiled at him. “What’s the plan for Valentine’s Day, pretty lady ?” you chuckled and shook your head. 

“No plans Der, what about you ? A hot date?” you wiggled your eyebrows, making him laugh. 

“I haven't quite figured out yet, I'll let you know” You smiled before walking up to Hotch’s office to drop off some papers while Derek headed to his desk. 

It was a relatively quiet day at the office, mostly paperwork. It was around lunchtime that Derek worked up the courage to ask you on a date. “Coffee for the pretty lady” he set the mug on your desk, you smiled at him. “Thank you D” he nodded, leaning on your desk. 

“Still no plans?” you asked him while taking a sip, he laughed. 

“I came over here hoping that I could change my lack of plans” he looked at you, a smile on his face. 

“Meaning?” you looked up at him 

“Meaning, would you like to go on a date with me tomorrow?” 

You coughed, nearly choking on your coffee. “You okay ?” he asked you, you nodded. “Yeah sorry, I'm fine but yes, I will go on a date with you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I've gotta go to the bathroom” He smiled and you smiled at him before walking out of the bullpen. You headed straight to Penelope’s office. 

“Penny!” you squealed. 

“y/n!” she squealed back, “what’s going on sugar?” 

“Derek asked me on a date” you gave her a small smile 

“What?!” She stood up, pulling you into a hug “Details! What are you gonna wear? Where are you guys going? Are you gonna do the nasty ? Wait, don’t answer that. Surprise me on that one.” 

You laughed, “the red dress you got me for Christmas, no idea maybe dinner ? and I doubt we’ll be doing it” 

February 14th, 2013

There was a knock on the front door as you walked down the stairs. “It’s open!” you shouted, Derek came into view shutting the door behind him. “You look.. wow” he had a bunch of red roses in his hand. You smiled, “thank you, you look wow too” he chuckled and handed the flowers to you, 

“These are for you” 

“Thank you, they're beautiful. Let me put them in a vase and we can go?” 

He nodded and sat on your steps while you headed to the kitchen. You came back a few minutes later and the two of you headed out. Derek took you to a little restaurant in the city, it wasn’t in central D.C but still in the city. It was quiet and the two of you sat outside. Dinner was quiet, you had normal small talk, sharing your plans for the summer and Derek told you about his trip to see his mom. 

“Y/n, can I tell you something?” Derek’s hand rested on yours, you nodded for him to continue. 

“I like-” “Sir, here's your cheque” the waiter smiled at you two, leaving it on the table. You held back a giggle, “you were saying?” you looked at him. 

“I like you, like really like you. I’ve felt this way for a while and I figured after everything you’ve been through you deserve someone that would take care of you, treat you the way you deserve to be treated. I hope I could be that person” he looked back at you. 

“I like you too, Derek and I would love for you to be that person” 

March 18th, 2015

Rossi insisted that everyone come over after the last case to unwind. Your life had been going well lately, you and Derek had been together for a little over 2 years. You had told him to go over to Rossi’s without you and you would get a ride with Hotch. 

Hotch picked you up a little after 8. “Sorry, I had to help Jack with something before dropping him at Jessica’s.” “Oh that’s alright, thanks for picking me up.” He nodded and drove to Rossi’s. Hotch wasn't one for small talk but today he was. 

“How are things with you and Morgan ?” 

“Good actually” 

“He makes you happy ?” 

“He does” 

“Good, you deserve happiness y/n” 

“Thank you Aaron, so do you. Maybe it's time for you to start trying to find someone” you suggested. “It’s been a while since Haley and I know she was your first love but she would want you to be happy.” you looked over at him, he had a small smile on his face. 

“Actually, I started seeing someone” 

“What? Really? Tell me more” 

He laughed and pulled in Rossi’s driveway. “Maybe another time, let’s go in” He got out of the car and waited for you before heading to the door. Rossi let you both in, but the house was empty. “Where’s everyone ?” you asked, Rossi looked over at Hotch and smiled, the two of them led you to the backyard. “You guys aren't going to kill me right?” Aaron gave you a look to stop your nonsense making you laugh. Everyone stood in the backyard with Derek in the middle of them. 

“What’s going on?” you looked around 

Derek stepped forward, “y/n..” he got on one knee, your jaw dropped, literally. 

“You know I love you, I'd go to the end of the earth and back for you. You have shown me what happiness and love looks like and you bring out the best in me. Make me the happiest man and marry me?” 

“yes, of course” you laughed, he got up and pulled you into a hug before slipping the ring on your finger. 

December 24th, 2016 

“How do I look? Is my veil crooked ?” you looked over at him, Hotch shook his head. “You look perfect y/n” he smiled at you which made you smile. The bridal march began. 

“Too late to run away ?” you looked over as you hooked your arm with his. 

“Too late to run away. Are you ready?” he asked and you nodded. 

The doors opened, Derek stood at the end of the aisle. Rossi stood beside him as your officiant and Spencer on the other side of him as his best man. Penelope was across from them as your maid of honour. Aaron walked you down the aisle, handing you off to Derek. Aaron kissed your cheek, “be good to her Derek, she’s precious” 

You looked out into the crowd to see JJ, Will and their boys with Emily beside them, Hotch sat beside Jack and Beth was on the other side of Jack. Derek’s mom and his sisters were in the front. Rossi started to speak when everyone settled down. 

“As someone who’s been married multiple times, I'm an expert” 

“4 times!” Emily pointed out

“It was only 3 but anyways, we’re here today to honour these two beautiful people and watch them commit themselves to each other. I’ll keep my part short, do you have vows?” Rossi looked over at you and you nodded. 

“You guys know what saying, whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same? Whenever I hear that, I think of us. From the day I met you, I realized you were special. You made me laugh and smile like no one had ever done before. You were there for me when I gave up, when I needed someone to be there for me. You helped me get back on my feet, you taught me what real love looks like, what happiness feels like and what it feels like to truly be loved” you looked at Derek and smiled, he was wiping away the tears. “Everyday, I'm thankful for you because you make me who I am, I'm complete when I'm with you.” You squeezed his hand and gave him a smile. 

“I don't know how you’re going to top that” Rossi patted his back, making Derek chuckle. 

“As you said, from the day I met you, I knew you were special, but our love story didn’t begin until that day in the hospital, exactly 6 years ago today. You were injured and I sat in your room on Christmas Eve, you were trying to get me to go home and I told you that there’s nowhere I would rather be because you’re the one I choose, always. Through space and time and back, I'll find my way back to you and choose you. There’s no one else for me y/n, so I promise to you here today in front of our family that I will love you with no bounds because you give me hope, give me joy, and make me a better man.” 

After that, there was not a dry eye in that room, even Hotch teared up. “I think you beat me” you whispered to him. 

“Well, I've watched these two grow and fall in love with each other over the last 6 years and I've been very lucky to see that. I remember the day Derek told Spencer that he was taking y/n on a date and when Derek came to me to ask me to use the house for the proposal. These two were meant to be and by the power vested in me, I pronounce you man and wife. you may- oh you’re already kissing” Rossi laughed. 

Derek held your hand as the two of you made your way back down the aisle, now as Mr and Mrs. Morgan. 

Actually as, Agent and Agent Morgan. 

[untilmynextstory]

Chapter Six: The Separation of Crows

WORD COUNT - 4K

AUTHOR NOTE: So Alma’s is going to be going through it. So please be patient while she works out all the trauma she has endured. 

FIVE YEARS LATER

For the first time in years, Alma is going to fully acknowledge her ex-husband. Since their divorce things had been rocky between them. They never had fully recovered from the events that took place that led to their divorce. 

They are civil when it comes to anything regarding Nathan. 99.9 % of their conversations revolve around their son. Outside of the first year of the divorce and working out the distance, they had been able to work out a schedule that didn’t hurt Nathan’s relationship with his father. Jax got their son for the summer and every holiday and Nathan stayed with her for the school year. 

Alma can say she is proud that she and Jax have managed to co-parent as well as they have. She had thought it would be harder. She expected so much resistance. Yet, Jax has been over generous through the years and she knows he is overcompensating for the guilt he still feels. 

She feels bad that she and Jax have turned into strangers. 

She knows exactly when it happened. 

Wendy had given birth to a beautiful baby boy. After getting the paternity test, it turned out Jax was not the father. She had been happy for Jax if that made any sense. She knows that he thought it could be the start in mending things. Instead it just brought up old wounds as it didn’t change that he had slept with another woman, one of many, who could've been pregnant with his child. That had thrown Alma down a spiral she had managed to avoid and after that short and clipped phone call. She had a night out in the town where she met Vitaly Petrova. The man that would become her husband. 

She knows the only reason Jax came to the wedding was because of Nathan. He would have his boy for a month while she and Vitaly went on their honeymoon. Since her wedding night, any type of thread they had on a relationship evaporated. Jax created a bigger distance she couldn’t even begin to build a bridge too. She knows she is at fault considering what exactly conspired between the two on her wedding night. 

She knows he is going to have questions. It’s been 2 years since she has been back to Charming. She only made a trip to Opie’s homecoming party. When Nathan comes to stay with his dad, she and Jax always meet halfway. 

She knows Nathan is going to be mad, but she is doing what is best for him. That is her job as her mother. What hurts is having to follow the familiar route to hers and Jax’s first home. Nathan had mentioned in passing that Jax found the second house too big - too empty. The house is for Nathan when he is older and wants to come back to Charming. 

Nothing really has changed except for the vines that are overtaking the exterior. She finds Jax outside restoring a bike. He looks shocked to see her as Nathan isn’t due to visit until June for the summer. It’s May. 

Alma makes note in the changes of her ex-husband though. He had chopped off all his hair. He has a close cropped shave and it seems he has added at least 15 pounds in muscles since the last time she saw him. 

He doesn’t show any reaction to her showing up unannounced. He never shows any reaction towards her anymore. His eyes scan her car before her appearance. She isn’t all dolled up as she usually is. Her now blonde hair is in a sloppy bun and she is wearing a simple red summer dress. 

“Hey, Jax,” she greets. 

He doesn’t say anything as he begins wiping his hands off with a rag. 

“Everything okay with Nathan?” He asks. 

“Yeah. Everything is fine.”

Jax raises his eyebrow. “If it were, you wouldn't be here in Charming unannounced.”

“I wanted to talk about changing Nathan’s visiting schedule.”

Jax nods his head. “You and the Russian going on vacation?” That was another thing. Jax never referred to Vitaly by his name. Just the Russian. She knows Jax hates her husband for many reasons and now she is potentially creating another one. 

“Actually, I was thinking Nathan should start high school in Charming. I want him to come back living here.”

“What?” Her ex-husband replies visibly confused. 

“I think with high school, it may be best for him to be with you. I know the visitation...it’s hard for you.”

Jax sighs. “He wanted to be with you, Al. It’s hard, but it’s not like I don’t see him. We talk almost every day.”

“I just want to do this for you.”

Jax stares at her directly in her eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Alma hides the panic. She has gotten good at lying in the past three years. She knows she is risking a lot by not hiding her eyes with sunglasses, but it would put Jax on even more of an alert. 

“Everything is okay, Jax.” She assures him. 

Jax doesn’t press. He folds his arms across his chest. “I mean it’s not like I am going to have a problem with my son wanting to live with me.”

Alma smiles and some tension leaves her body. “I already completed the paperwork and I enrolled him at Aquinas Academy.”

“That Catholic school in Stockton? That place is expensive as shit.” Jax exclaims. 

“We always planned to send the kids there Jax. Did you forget I went there? We get a discount.”

A fond smile comes across his face. “Trust me, darlin’, I did not forget you in that skirt they passed as a uniform.” 

Alma rolls her eyes, but she can’t help the smile that comes across her face. It’s nice to be talking to Jax like this without any tension. Although it makes the heartache worse because she misses him. She never stopped despite all the heartache he put her through. She knows that makes her stupid. 

“I already ordered him a couple uniforms too.”

“Jesus, Al, let me pay for something. I know the Russian has money, but Christ, Nathan is my son.” Jax says with more bite than intended. 

“I didn’t use any of his money, Jax. I never do with things for Nathan and I’m sure you know that considering you make it a point to send child support checks I never ask for.” Alma constantly rolls her eyes at the money Jax sends her on a monthly basis. Of course it all goes directly to Nathan, but she knows the excessive amount Jax puts in is for her as well. With the money, she has been teaching Nathan about budgeting and she makes sure he isn’t always buying outlandish things. “Besides, I have my own money.”

Jax lips tug up. “How is your shop? Mom liked the nails you sent in for her to try.”

A bright smile comes over her face any time anyone asks about her nail salon. Two years ago she started Picassos. She started a small online shop for press or glue on nails and after getting the necessary paperwork and certifications, she was able to open her own salon and it has done exceptionally well. In fact, her online store constantly keeps her busy. 

“It’s going so well. I’m thinking of expanding.”

“Yeah. Have any spaces picked out?”

A blush taints her cheeks for some reason. “I’m actually thinking of opening a spot here. I am supposed to meet with Hale about potential spaces especially since Nathan will be here now.”

Jax presses his lips together. She can tell he is thinking hard. He is trying to understand what is going on around him. He closes the distance between them. His hand comes up and grips her chin forcing her to look at him. She hates how a simple touch from him causes goosebumps to erupt across her flesh. 

“I know I was shit husband -”

“You weren’t,” she interrupts foolishly. Sure, at the end he was, but in the beginning, she can’t find herself tainting the image of the man she had hopelessly been in love with.  

A strained smile reaches Jax’s lip. “...still despite what happened between us. You can still come to me if you need my help.”

“Jax, I’m fine. Everything is okay.” She places her hand over his and squeezes it before removing his hand from her face. “I’ll see you next month.”

She doesn’t let Jax get another word back in as she rushes back to her car. 

.

.

.

Alma had to plan it meticulously. Vitaly is always busiest it seems between May and until the end of June. It’s then he makes his visits to other states or countries for things. Then in July, he would spoil her with a trip someplace. She knows this summer will not be an easy one. Most importantly, she feels bad for having to deceive her son. 

She looks at her oldest, as he gets older, she thought he would take after his father more. She had been surprised how much he resembles her physically. From the brown hair and she even finds some of her mannerisms in him. However, his eyes are his father’s eyes. Those blue orbs are a carbon copy of his father’s and he also seems to have inherited his father’s brain when it comes to things that aren’t particularly suited for the interests of 14 year olds. She has gotten too many phone calls about her son setting up candy stores trying to make a buck at school. 

Despite his lukewarm relationship with Vitaly, she knows Nathan does enjoy spending time learning the business side of the wine industry. Nathan has expressed an interest in going to school for business. She had been pleasantly surprised that her son showed an interest in college. She had been convinced her son would move back to Charming at 18 and join the club. Although she might be changing the course of his life by moving him to Charming. 

“What do you mean I’m moving with Dad?” Nathan asks as he packed what he believed to be his summer bag to his father’s. He only brings simple things like a book, movies, and games. Maybe a sweatshirt he is particularly fond of.  Usually the first day he is back in Charming, his dad takes him shopping for new clothes and things he needs if he outgrown some things. It also helped that he didn’t need to lug around a suitcase and deal with unpacking. 

“I enrolled you at Aquinas Academy for high school. So now for holidays you’ll come here. I thought it might be best for you to spend your teenage years with your dad.”

“And I don’t get a say in this?” Nathan asks. 

“If you really hate Charming that much, you can come back here of course. I think it would be best. I mean I got you for all these years. I think you and your dad would love this.”

“Does Vitaly know?”

“It doesn’t matter. When it comes to you, the final decision is between me and your father.” His mother deflects. 

Nathan straightens his back. He doesn’t like that answer. The thing was being young Nathan didn’t see the warning signs, or maybe Vitaly was good at hiding them. He can also say he had come to a point where he hated his father for the pain he inflicted on his mother. Vitaly didn’t seem to be wrong for his mother. He was spoiling his mother with gifts and seemed like he wanted to form a friendship with him. Now, he thinks Vitaly just knew how to prey on his mother. She was emotionally vulnerable and he dove like a crow. 

He thinks it was almost a year into his mother's marriage something felt off between his mom and Vitaly. 

The problem is he never sees anything. Sure, there are some raised voices and he does check his mom over for marks, but there is no evidence. 

There are times when he wants to mention something to his dad. He just is scared of his dad’s reaction and what could happen to his mom. His dad doesn’t like Vitaly as is and he knows his dad might do something reckless. Knows the club could get into trouble if his dad did do something. 

Although his main concern is his mother, he has researched a little on domestic violence and he needs to be sure she is safe. 

“Mom, I can’t leave you alone.” Nathan settles on. 

“I won’t be. I have the salon keeping me busy.” She answers. 

Nathan wants to scream and shout, but he doesn’t. He is a teeanger and he needs to be smart about this. Just maybe his mom does have a plan if she is sending him back to Charming. It doesn’t ease his worries though. 

“You’re gonna come to visit at least on the first day of school?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

.

.

.

Alma didn’t think it would be this hard. It’s always hard when her baby leaves for the summer. She misses him terribly and Nathan’s absence is always felt. Now though she can’t stop crying as she holds him to send him off with his father. 

“Christ, Mom,” Nathan says as she smothers him in kisses as she has to stand on her tippy toes a bit.

She can hear Jax chuckle in the background. 

She pulls back, “I’m just going to miss you so much.”

“I can see that.” 

“Oh stop,” Alma says. 

“I’m just going to be with Dad. It’s not like I’m moving to another country.”

Alma gives her son another hug. “I’ll miss you, baby.”

Nathan’s arms wrap around her tightly and they hold each other. Her baby is growing up. “I’ll miss you too, Mom.”

Alma pulls back and watches as Nathan makes his way to Jax’s truck. Jax is leaning against his grill with a somber expression. He walks over to her, “You sure about this?”

“Yeah. I’ll be in town for a couple weeks in August to see him start school.” She tells him. She wraps her arms around herself. “Just take care of him, Jax. He’s the only thing I have left.”

Jax nods his head. His eyes scan her over, “I’ll see you in August.”

.

.

The ride to Charming was quiet. Jax expected it to be considering how Alma clearly was distraught with Nathan moving in with him. Jax reminds himself that Alma wanted this and he was happy to have his son full time. Yet, since she popped up unexpectedly last month, he felt something was off. He was missing something from this. Sure, he had his suspicions. He made the mistakes once of making an offhand comment to Clay about it. The guys would usually ignore his comments about the Russian and write it off as jealousy. Yet, Clay had looked at him and made the pointed reminder that Alma wasn’t his wife or old lady. Her marriage wasn’t his business. Also if he did something the blow back wouldn’t not only hurt Alma and Nathan, but the club would suffer. 

Sometimes, Jax wanted to ask Nathan if he had worries or issues with Vitaly. He just didn’t want to put his son in that position. If there was a truth to any suspicions of wrongdoing, Jax would murder Vitaly without any hesitation. 

He just doesn’t know how to handle the fact he pushed Alma into this situation. He fucked up and she landed into this assholes lap. 

“We’re going to Grandma’s?” Nathan asks when they don’t take the turn to the house. 

“Her grandbaby is moving back to Charming. She made a whole spread for you.” Jax informs him. 

Gemma had been ecstatic when he told her Alma was sending Nathan to move in with him permanently. Since Alma married the Russian, their relationship had turned frosty. He knows his mom thought a reconciliation would happen and he thinks it's safe to say they were both blindsided when she announced she was getting married. 

His mother didn’t like the Russian either, but for other reasons. Jax thinks he is the only one that believes Alma’s marriage isn’t what it seems. He thinks it may be time to talk to Opie because he might get clarity from him, but even then it doesn’t change the fact Alma isn’t his old lady or wife. 

“You think she’ll be nicer to mom now?” 

Jax raises an eyebrow. “Who knows with your grandmother. How’s Ann doing?”

Nathan shrugs his shoulders. “Somewhere with her boyfriend. I don’t know. She and mom don’t talk much anymore.”

“Why’s that?”

“Everytime they would talk, Ann would say something bad about you and praise Vitaly. It would lead to arguments. So mom stopped checking in unless she felt I needed to talk to her, which I don't.” 

Jax snorts. “Unbelievable. How is the Russian?” He asks with clear distaste.

Nathan shrugs his shoulders. “On a business trip, I guess.” Nathan taps his fingers against his knees. “I just wish my mom wasn’t going to be alone in the house.”

“You worried for her.”

“It’s just been me and her, ya know. After Ben and Kaylee...I always worry.” Nathan reveals. 

Jax fights the ball in his throat at the mention of his two youngest. His chest still tightens thinking about them and what their futures could’ve been.

“She and the Russian don’t want kids?” He asks. He tries not to think about Alma sharing a bed with that man, but he has been mentally preparing for the pregnancy announcement any day now. 

“Vitaly doesn’t like kids.”

“What!” Jax exclaims, shocked. 

“That’s what he told me.”

“What? When?” Jax inquires. 

“It was a little bit after when they got married. One of the workers at the winery had a baby. He told me I didn’t need to worry about getting another sibling. He wasn’t fond of kids, especially babies.”

“Your mom knows this?”

Nathan furrows his brow. “I would imagine. It’s not like I really want to talk about mom’s sex life, Dad. Gross.”

“How do you think you got here?”

Nathan’s nose scrunches up. “Disgusting.”

“Speaking of sex, don’t think you are living with me you can be sneaking girls over. Your mom will kill me if you get a girl pregnant.” Jax warns. “You do know how to use a condom?”

“Ugh, yes, Dad. Mom showed me.”

“When?”

“Dad, I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“Well you are getting a refresher and I’ll take you shopping, or did your mom already take you?”

Nathan’s cheeks are red at this point. “No, Mom said she’ll save the shopping for you.”

“Look at that, your mom thinks of everything.” Jax says as he pulls into Gemma’s driveway. He turns the truck off. “I’ll give you a few minutes to call your mom and tell her that you're here, alright.”

Nathan nods his head and Jax slips out of the truck. He walks into his mother’s house. He almost jumps as the door is swung open. His mother is on the opposite side of him. She looks behind him. “Where is my grandson?”

“Calling Alma real quick to tell her we made it.” He answers as he walks into the house. 

“Well?” Gemma presses. 

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you excited? You’ve been mopey since Alma gave you the good news. It’s about time she came to her senses about the boy needing to be with his father.” Gemma adds. 

“Ma,” Jax warns. 

Gemma presses her lips together. “You should be happy.”

“I am.”

“She’s not your concern anymore, Jax.”

“She is still family, Ma.” Jax answers. “She’s the mother of my children. She is always going to be a concern.”

...

Alma has been nervous for this day. She is in the sitting living room by the tall windows as she looks out into their backyard. Vitaly is returning from his business trip. She can hear his footsteps approaching. She watches as he waves off his security to give them privacy. 

Vitaly is a handsome man. Tall and lean, his dirty blonde hair is slicked back and parted on the side, and it seems in the month he has grown out a mustache. When they first met, she wasn’t really impressed with him. Or at the time, he shared some similarities with her ex husband with the long hair and baggy shirts and jeans. But Vitaly’s sense of style has matured to silk buttons up and slacks. Expensive shoes and diamond jewelry. Despite having a legitimate winery with vast distribution, he has ties to the Russian Mafia. His uncle is Viktor Putlova, the head of the Mafia. 

Alma had been hesitant to be involved with someone in the Life again, but she was swept up by Vitaly. Also it helped that the Sons rarely do business dealings with the Russians. 

She took the risk. 

“Hey, baby,” he greets and gives her a kiss before sitting next to her. 

“How was the trip?”

“Too long. Just wanted to come home,” he tells her as he puts an arm around her shoulder. 

“Nathan already gone?”

Alma swallows the ball in her throat. “Yeah. Dropped him off last night.”

“When is he coming back?”

“He...uh...he is going to be actually staying in Charming. He is going to live with Jax.” She informs him. 

Vitaly freezes. “When was this decided?”

“A few weeks ago.”

“And you are only telling me now?”

Alma doesn’t say anything. 

“Answer me.” Vitaly barks. 

“He is starting high school. I thought it was best he was with his dad. They both miss each other.” Alma rushes out. 

“You couldn’t tell me this over the phone. You went behind my back.” Vitaly points out. “When did you tell, Jax?”

“May.”

“Over the phone.” Vitaly inquires.

Alma shakes her head. 

Even though she is prepared for it, it still manages to take her by surprise when Vitaly grabs her by her throat. He squeezes hard as he chokes her. She begins to feel light headed and white spots are forming in her eyes. 

She coughs as he throws her to the floor. 

“Jesus, fuck, Alma!” Vitaly shouts. “Get to the fucking room.” She can hear him unbuckling his belt. 

She used to think she was in love with Vitaly. Maybe a part of her was, but all she knows that her heart was already broken once so it can’t be broken again.

.

.

.

.

TWO YEARS AGO - The Wedding

Alma never imagined getting married again. In fact, she thought she was done with marriage. She had no desire in making vows with another man. Yet, look at her now. She is only in her peach colored robe and the fancy lingerie set she bought for her soon to be husband. She had just finished her makeup when she began to feel overwhelmed. 

Her mom sensed that she needed some space. She didn’t remember feeling nervous when she married Jax, but then again she already had a kid. Marriage paled in comparison to that. 

She is just worried she is making a mistake. Her choices affect her son. She and Vitaly could be together without the attachment of marriage. She wonders if it is normal to feel scared. She knows she sure as hell doesn't feel happy at the moment. 

Thinking on it, Alma didn’t have much say in the wedding planning. Her mom had taken over everything for her. 

A knock comes at the door. 

“One minute.” She replies. 

It’s quiet, but the knock comes again. She sighs and storms to the door. “I said one -” Her voice dies as she finds Jax on the other side of the door. 

He rushes into the room. Alma closes the door. She knows the only reason he is here is because of Nathan. Immediately after the wedding festivities Jax is going to take Nathan while they are on their honeymoon. 

She doesn’t get to question him as to why he is here because he beats her to it. 

“Please do not do this,” he pleads. 

Alma rolls her eyes. She walks back over to her vanity. “You did this. You ended us.”

“Alma, please, I’m sorry...there has to be something -”

“You’ve done enough.” She informs him bluntly. 

It goes quiet in the dressing room. Alma busies herself by playing with random items on her vanity, but it doesn’t conceal that her hands are shaking. 

She hears Jax footsteps behind her before his chest is against her back. Alma freezes. She turns immediately to slap him for even crossing that physical boundary. 

Yet as soon as she turns, Jax hoists her up on the vanity and immediately spreads her legs to stand between them. His movements were rough and desperate as he immediately removed her robe leaving her in her peach colored lingerie. 

His fingers wrapped around her throat and he moved her closer as he applied the smallest of pressure and pressed his lips against hers. 

She was distracted by Jax kissing hers that she jumps slightly in surprise when she feels his fingers move her panties to the side and tease her opening. He didn’t thrust them inside of her, but kept circling them making her buck her hips up on the counter. 

“Jax,” she moans. 

She hears him unzipping his pants and her panties are pushed to the side again and he slams himself inside of her. 

Alma screams are muffled as Jax moves the hand around her neck to cover her mouth. Her walls constrict around him as her body gets adjusted to him. She hates to even admit that she missed this side of Jax. She missed him. 

Jax moves his hand back to her throat as he presses another rough kiss to her mouth. He pulls all the way out before snapping his hips back up into hers. Alma bites her lip to stifle her moans as each thrust is harder than before. 

She knows what Jax is doing. She shouldn’t be letting him do this. She shouldn’t be doing this at all. But she tightens around him. 

Jax releases a broken moan, “Christ, you feel so fucking perfect.”

Jax lifts her leg and he hits her G-Spot repeatedly. It triggers her orgasm unexpectedly. Her body quivers and a lewd moan leaves Jax mouth as he releases. She can feel him coating her walls. He trails kisses across her collarbone and throat before he meets her lips. 

She can feel the tears building in her eyes. She thinks she truly hates Jax and herself at this moment. Jax pulls back when he feels the first drop of liquid against his cheeks. 

Alma winces as he pulls out of her. She ignores his cum dripping out of her and staining her panties. She is lucky she brought another set of lingerie as she couldn’t decide. 

“I hate you.” She tells him. She doesn’t glance at him as he cleans up. She has barely tied her robe back together and Jax has just buckled his belt when the door slams open revealing her mother. 

Ann doesn’t say anything as she glares at Jax, who walks out without a glance back. 

Alma turns as she looks for the other set of lingerie. 

“Is it out of your system?” Ann asks. 

Alma nods her head.

[floraisann]

eighteen

➣ ateez 9th member au

➣ warnings: a couple of curse words because jinju + yeosang = chaos

➣ genre: honestly idk since yongju starts all in His Feels™  then because ateez it gradually dissolves into chaos sooooo maybe angstxcrack??? 🤠

➣ word count: 2,317 words (how did i even accomplish this 😳)

➣ summary: it’s yongju’s birthday!! though the question is... who’s gonna tell the others?

➣ main masterlist

➣ yongju’s masterlist ��

➣ author’s note: i’m aware that it’s approaching noon on the 29th in korea as i’m posting this, but where i am, it’s still the 28th, meaning it’s still a valid time to post this. so anyways, happy birthday to my firstborn mr. lim yongju 🥺😭 he is my BABIE and i can’t wait until i can actually develop his character further sdkfnvsijn

❅♩♬♩❅――

“I'm tired of the city, scream if you're with me If I'm gonna die, let's die somewhere pretty, ah”

It wasn’t that Yongju’s mindless singing was a rare, unwelcome occurrence in the dorms— in fact, the ATEEZ members had grown so accustomed to the sound of his voice that the halls felt empty in the few hours where both Jongho and their new maknae were silent. Rather the thing that was making the members uncomfortable was the lyrics leaving their youngest’s lips as well as his tone.

Homesickness. The cold, empty feeling in your chest as you long for a home that is no longer yours. That’s what it was. That’s what Yongju was feeling, singing as to distract from the sentiment.

A sigh leaves Yongju’s lips as he pauses the track halfway through the first verse, the raindrops against the window somehow only working to magnify the desolate misery in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t the first birthday he’d spent away from his family (SM hadn’t exactly allowed him to travel back for the special occasion in those thirty months spent hoping for debut with his SMRookies friends), and of course, his relatives had all sent him countless birthday wishes earlier on in the day, but it was still the first birthday he’d spent completely away from any family.

Lim Jinju. His annoying twin sister who, as the title implied, shared birthdays with him. Every year prior to the present one, even if they couldn’t celebrate with their families, at least they had each other. Perhaps her absence was just what was making him feel so miserable. Yongju couldn’t call himself outgoing by any means— often disappearing from others’ eyes hours at a time in order to recharge his rapidly depleting social battery— but it was always in the presence of such… chaotic figures that he felt able to let go.

“Do the members even know my birthday…?” He whispers, his words disappearing within the confines of the dark, empty dorm room. Wooyoung and Yeosang along with several more of the members had left for the company building to get some additional practice hours in to prepare for some upcoming schedules. The only members that stayed with him at the dorms were Seonghwa and Jongho, both of whom were unfortunately injured.

Tired, Yongju let himself flop onto his side, the headboard loudly clicking against the wall before rocking to a stop. “What am I so tired for…?” He mumbles to himself, squinting at the sudden brightness of his phone as he unlocks it. “I haven’t even done anything today.” His thumb hovers over the ‘call’ button for a few seconds as he considers calling home. The thought soon leaves him once more as he groans, shifting onto his back.

“Ah, my head hurts.”

Sleep quickly finds the young boy, its grip firm against him as he’s forced to succumb to his drowsiness. It’s restless, but still, it’s much needed. For the first time in days, Yongju can stop thinking.

♩♪♫♬⇝

“I think he might like the vanilla cake.” Hongjoong softly mutters to San, who stands hunched over, carefully inspecting the contents of the store’s bakery counter to find the perfect treat for their later celebration.

San gently shakes his head, not tearing his eyes from the iced treats as he replies to his elder in a semi-hushed voice. “Vanilla? No that’s too basic even if he is kinda plain. I vote chocolate.”

“Vanilla is basic and chocolate isn’t?” Wooyoung scoffs. “Chocolate is probably the most basic cake flavor to ever come into existence.”

“Everyone shut up, let’s get him carrot cake.”

The members all turn to Mingi, incredulous looks on their faces as they question his words.

Wooyoung is the first to explode. “You absolute HEATHEN do you want him to think we hate him?”

“I was just making a suggestion!—”

“—Wait guys!” Yeosang’s call quickly breaks the chaos as his bandmates turn, not wanting to speak over him. “I have—” He stops himself to laugh into his sweater-covered palm. “—Guys, I got Jinju’s number. Should I ask what kind of cake he’d want?”

The expressions on his members’ faces quickly shift from incredulous to exasperated and Yeosang finds that he can only laugh, giggling as he scrolls to his phone contacts to find ‘Lim Jinju’

“Yeosang,” Yunho finally begins. “You’re telling me that this whole time we were arguing, including the entire car ride to this place—” He stops, closing his eyes as he presses his fingers against his temples. “You had contact with Jinju?”

The accused blonde simply flashes a toothy grin as he extends his arm to show off the newly added contact in his phone. “Okay—” He quickly retracts, looking down at the said contact. “I’m being completely honest here— I actually forgot I had her contact since I just got it last night and entirely by chance too!”

Wooyoung blinks. “Yeosang, what you mean, sir?”

Grinning, Yeosang quickly locks his phone, clapping his hand over the screen as he launches into his story. “Okay! So you know how Yongju always falls asleep while on his phone, right? Yeah! So last night after I showered, I came back to the room and he was asleep, probably on accident too, because the episode of ‘Free!’ he was watching was only half finished.”

“Where are you going with this?” San interjects, Hongjoong quickly shushing him.

“Okay, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, when I was walking past him, I noticed his phone was on like, maybe two percent battery? So being a good roommate, I decided to charge it for him. So when I grabbed his phone, I had the sudden realization that since it was unlocked, the options available to me were endless! So in the end, I both charged his phone and saved Jinju’s number to my contacts for safekeeping.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you suck at ending stories?” Wooyoung flatly questions. Yeosang is quick to glare through his blonde locks, eliciting a few laughs from the other members.

“Well either way, that safekeeping purpose ended up being fulfilled much earlier than expected, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be calling Miss Lim Jinju!”

Before anyone can react, Yeosang’s phone is unlocked, and the familiar ‘calling’ chime rings in their ears.

“Put her on speaker!” Hongjoong instructs, and Yeosang is quick to comply.

“Hello?” Jinju’s strong and clear voice reverberates around them after the third ring, and there’s a momentary bout of chaos as all six men present attempt to greet her at the same time.

“Happy birthday, Jinju!” Wooyoung hollers directly into the speaker.

“What are you all so loud for?” She whines. “I swear you just gave me hearing loss— anyways, I hope I’m not the first twin you’re screaming at because last time I checked, the other June twenty-eight born lad literally lives with you.”

“Well, that’s kinda why we called, you June twenty-eight born lass, you know?” Yunho weakly sings into the speaker, causing a few odd glances from the shop’s workers.

“What could you— Oh!” Yeosang flinches, pushing the phone further away from his face as Jinju yells. “Wait I know exactly why you called! Okay, so be very mindful of Yongju’s taste buds because they’re kinda fucked, and he hates chocolate cake.”

“See! I told you!” Mingi hollers, Wooyoung being quick to slap him across the back of his head as he quips a fast, “You didn’t tell us shit, mr. carrot cake!” back.

“Stop fighting!” Hongjoong scolds, lightly punching Mingi on the shoulder. “Anyways, Jinju, if he doesn’t like chocolate, what should we buy him?”

There’s a brief silence as the twin contemplates her answer, the six members present leaning close to the phone as they make their own guesses as to what Yongju would like. “I’m pretty sure the last time we had cake he really liked the red velvet.”

The members immediately disperse, different degrees of self-disappointment on their faces, save Yeosang, who had begun to softly sing the chorus of ‘Red Flavor’ by Red Velvet.

“Why is it that no one guessed red velvet, yet one of us idiots managed to come up with the idea that Yongju would want carrot cake?” Wooyoung finally asks.

“It’s because we’re all clowns,” San starts, turning away as Hongjoong goes to purchase the small red velvet cake. “And Yongju just so happens to be the circus director.”

❅♩♬♩❅――

“Yongju, wake up!” The boy in question blinks awake, disoriented, as Seonghwa gently shakes him conscious. “Sorry we couldn’t let you keep sleeping, but the managers want you, Jongho, and me over to the company for some last minute evaluation… thing,” He explains.

Yongju sleepily yawns into his hand, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he asks, “What time is it now?”

“It’s 3pm,” His elder quickly answers. “They want me there earlier so I’m heading off now, but the managers are gonna bring you and Jongho over in an hour or so.” He then smiles, lovingly pinching the youngest on the cheek. “Freshen yourself up before then, alright? I’ll see you soon.”

As Seonghwa leaves, Yongju forces himself into a sitting position, dazed, yet trying his hardest to force himself fully awake. Finally, he kicks his legs over the side of his bed, padding straight over to the bathroom to put on some makeup. He was an idol now. He had to at least try to look alive.

♩♪♫♬⇝

“Guys, hurry up! Jongho and Yongju are gonna be here any minute now!” San whines, rocking on his heels.

Seonghwa immediately stops his work in arranging streamers on the wall to glare at the younger boy, who in response, flashes him a wide grin. “If you’re so concerned about us not finishing in time, you could help, yeah?” He rolls his eyes. “I’m literally injured and I’m doing more than you.”

“I’m the supervisor!” He happily sings. “I’m here to make sure you guys are doing your work the right way!”

“What time is it anyways?” Hongjoong quietly mutters. “How much time do we got until they get here?”

“It is,” Yunho begins in a sing-song voice. “It is exactly 4pm at this moment.”

The boys all turn back to Seonghwa as a small choking noise leaves his throat. “Why didn’t you say anything? Jongho told me he’d get Yongju here by four o’clock sharp!”

“Yeah, and I have some news.” Yeosang announces, glancing down at his phone as he calls all the attention to himself. “Jongho just texted the old group chat saying they’re getting out of the car now.”

“I told you this would happen!” Seonghwa yells, all of the balloons they had purchased for the event in his hand as he runs to place them. “This is why I asked all of you to keep track of the time!”

♩♪♫♬⇝

“Do you know what we’re filming?” Yongju softly asks Jongho as they approach the practice room. “Are we filming a dance practice for ‘On’?”

Jongho lets a puff of air escape his lips as he shrugs at the question. “They probably wouldn’t have brought me or Seonghwa here if that were the case since we didn’t even dance in that stage.”

“Good point,” Yongju comments, nodding. “But is there anything else we could film? There was nothing in the schedule for today either.”

Jongho simply shakes his head once more. “I really don’t have the slightest clue.”

The pair stops as they reach the practice room, and for once Yongju notices the lack of light coming through the semi-transparent door.

“Are you sure this is the right room?” He asks his bandmate, frowning as he steps into the pitch black expanse. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the main practice area this dark…”

“Well, the managers told me—”

He’s cut off as the lights flash on and the other seven members’ faces are exposed.

���Happy birthday, maknae!” Wooyoung screams, his high tone easily slicing its way through the babble of the others as they begin singing him a happy birthday.

He can’t help but take a few steps back, his hands flying to his mouth as his eyes fill with tears of… happiness? surprise?

“Why are you running away?” Jongho asks, his hand still draped across the younger’s shoulder as he pushes him closer to the cake.

He smiles, standing somewhat awkwardly as Yeosang places the cake in his arms and he tries his best not to drop it, eyes lighting up as he notices the cake’s color.

They all applaud, urging him to quickly make a wish so he could blow out the candle and enjoy the treat.

Well, what did he want to wish for?

His life situation had taken a drastic turn in the last nine months. It wasn’t just that his thirty four month trainee period had finally drawn to a close. Finally, Yongju had friends, or rather eight brothers and countless fans who he was beginning to truly feel comfortable enough to be completely himself in front of without fear of judgement. And on top of that, he was able to get this far without giving up anything he loved.

He made it. For the first time in the nine months Yongju had spent with ATEEZ, he could finally feel the full effects of the word ‘success’.

He wants it to last.

The members all happily cheer as he blows out the candle, and he flinches away from San’s aggressive shows of affection. Despite the secondhand embarrassment he should be feeling first and foremost as the eight of them act— well— so wholeheartedly themselves, he’s distracted by the warmth he feels in his stomach as well as a sudden burst of energy as he finds he wants to mess around just as he would with Jinju back home.

Yongju debuted. Yongju had a family. Yongju had success.

[lyansi]

Chapter Summary: She finds solace in the menial house-tasks; washing the floors, scrubbing the laundry clean, even airing out their furnishings. The tasks keep her busy and her mind doesn’t wander on the what ifs. 

But suddenly, he is there. And demanding things of her. What does he want?

Disclaimer: Rumiko Takahashi is responsible for the Inuyasha series, I only lay claim on the story I have written.

Read this work on AO3

Shinagawa, Tokyo, Japan

June 19, 1946

1428:14 PM

“Sota! Hurry up, your friends are here to walk to school with you. And don’t forget your textbooks this time!” 

Kagome uses her free hand to hold open the bamboo screen, the other holds tight to her futon-tender, a long bamboo stick with intricate loops at one end. Behind her, three students entertain one another with conversation. Her blue eyes turn back to them and inform of her younger brother's descent. She hears behind the curtain Sota’s loud footfalls as he approaches the entrance. 

“I don’t know why I have to go— it would be more helpful if I worked in the fields with Mama and jii-chan.”

A lanky dark-haired young man pushes up the curtain. His bangs usually pushed to the right, are greased back in a professional manner. A frown sets on his face as he speaks to his sister. 

Kagome glares at him, placing her hands defiant on her hips. The stick almost knocks into him and he is forced to take a step back. He stands a head taller than her, but this doesn’t daunt her one bit. 

“Absolutely not! You are to go to school every—single—day and finish. Education is so important these days! Do you know how hard Mama and I work to make sure you graduate?” Kagome jabs a finger in his chest as she punctuates her words. His friends chuckle as she lectures him. 

Her words rang true though— there was so much at stake, and Sota could have a future she would never have. A formal education, the opportunity to study abroad, a life full of happiness and prosperity. 

If only he would stop forgetting his textbooks at home!

“Go on now— did you grab the book as I said?” This time, Kagome is pointing the bamboo stick at him. He holds up a faded hardcover volume clutched in one hand. 

Sota rolls his eyes as he moves past his older sister. He falters a moment and glances over his shoulder. Shadows cast over honey-brown eyes. “Don’t work too hard today, nee-chan. You look like you need sleep.” 

Sucking in a deep breath, Kagome’s lips twist down. She turns back to the wooden drainboard. 

The heaviness of the last few years weighs upon her. She has been in a state of perpetual exhaustion. When was the last time she even had a restful night of sleep? There had been so many years sowed with anguish.

With the brunt of her strength, Kagome begins to dust out the thick futon slung over the drainboard.

It started with the death of her father in the uprisings of 1935. 

She remembers how her mother fainted upon hearing the news. Within a few short months, Mama who was once so full of life and vigor withdrew into herself. Soon she was so thin that Kagome feared that any embrace would snap her in half. In the wake of her fathers death, and the brief time of her mothers depression, Kagome took it upon herself to help out as a farm tenant in the afternoons.

Then in 1940 Japan entered into the Tripartite Pact.

That year was especially difficult. The country had already been barren with food shortages. The rice rations happened not only in the mainland but beyond to the colonies in Korea and in parts of China. Upon entering the treaty, pre-war efforts put a strain on the communities already struggling. This also meant their borders would be forever closed to their friends in the West, who still funneled resources into their economy. Likewise, it was the year she decided to leave school to work full-time alongside her grandfather and mother as sharecropper, concluding a chapter in her life. 

The sun begins its ascent above her with nary a cloud shielding its bright beauty. Sweat beads on Kagome’s forehead and she takes a moment to fan herself cool. A thin haze of dust surrounds her like a fine mist. One could almost compare it to the fog created on a humid day in the winter season.

Kagome brandishes her arm to dissipate the cloud but is unsuccessful; tasuki ties back her yukata sleeves, the knot pressed between her shoulder and axilla. Suddenly she hears the reverberating sound of a car backfiring. An angry squeal and a holler sound in the distance. 

Raising her free hand above her eyebrow as a visor Kagome peers down the road. The distinctive shape of a utility vehicle, its blue-green paint reflecting the sun, is parked down the street. The American flag hangs off the right side of the vehicle. She could make out the shape of a military man behind the wheel of the car, seeming to throw his hands up in frustration. Pursing her lips, Kagome returns back to the futon, continuing her previous exertion.

At the beginning of the 1941 winter, Japan declared war on their American friends. 

Kagome was fearful that her mother, who had not yet turned forty, would be called into service. Her grandfather, on the other hand, had lucked out of service. He had turned sixty-two that year; he held his head high and spoke proudly of joining the war efforts, had he been in better health and allowed to.

Through the next few years, as men were conscripted into the war, they were able to make a meager living as farmland tenants. Under the laws at the time, their landlord acquired the majority of their harvest, which was subsidized to be sent to the military. Despite the fact that the price for the sale of rice rose, their labor wagers did not reflect those changes. What scanty income they did make, Kagome always made sure to put away money for Sota’s schooling.

“Higurashi-san.”

The previous year, 1945, was the worse though. 

In March, the bombings started. Her mother and grandfather thankfully had been outside the city edges at that time. Her grandfather had terrible pains and neighbors recommended a foreign doctor, way out in the countryside. It was a day walk away and even by carriage took several hours. 

“Higurashi-san.”

Sota had been on the other side of the city. He was staying with a friend for the evening to work on extra coursework.

Unlike her mother, her grandfather, or even her brother, Kagome hadn’t been so fortunate. She had finished selling the last of their shared crops in the towns center when the first bomb struck. Although not at the epicenter, the fire that sprouted in the aftermath could have killed her. 

She was luckier than most with minor physical scars. As long as she wore her kimono sleeves down, no one was the wiser. 

“Higurashi-san!”

Chest heaving, Kagome turns to the voice calling out to her. Tears threaten to spill but she holds well not to allow it so. Her neighbor, Okamoto-san, stands in front of her. Next to her is the man that she immediately recognizes as the Nisei Officer. Although he wasn’t the only Nisei on the island, he was the only one holding a rank higher than most. He was so well-known that his prominence neared that of  Marshall MacArthur. 

He stands several feet above her and is so tall that she actually needs to tilt her head back and still, she only catches the bottom of his chin. It makes her realize how close he stands and takes a step back.

“Hello.” She speaks softly and casts her eyes downward. As she does so, she swipes away the tears from her eyes. When she glances back up amber eyes focus not on her face but on her arm. She feels a hot shame overcome her and loosens the knot at her shoulder. The straps loosen and as she covers the red welts that wrap around her forearm.

“May I help you?” She speaks slow, trying her best to pronounce the words in English correctly. The words form shapes her mouth does not often make, movements foreign to her tongue. Amber eyes train themselves back on blue, and a quiet contemplation swims behind the gaze. The officer is as surprised by her shame as he is by her words.

“Do you speak English?” The words come out in a quick burst. It takes Kagome a moment to roll the words back and forth in her head as she attempts to translate them. 

“I know only a bit of English.” She gestures with her forefinger and thumb.

The man drums his fingers across his clipboard, a frown written across his lips. His eyes are staring down at the list before him. They flick back up to her and then down again. 

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” He asks, eyes trained downward. One hand tightens around a pen that begins to tap with impatience against the side of the rigid board. Before she has a chance to give a response though, he sighs with exasperation.

“Is there an adult here? Perhaps I can speak to your father?” He questions instead. And then he peers behind her at the small hovel, with its thatched roof and missing doorframe. It takes all of Kagome’s willpower not to slap him across the head with her stick. 

“My English is not so good, do you speak Japanese?” She says instead, this time in her native language. She allows the switch of language to buffer her anger. “Is there something I can help you with?”

He nods, finally glancing at her. The sun shines against his eyes and amber irises glow gold. It also highlights the speckles of silver in his blond hair. The officer is a handsome man with a strong jawline and a straight nose. His skin is tanned and  standing close she sees freckles smear across the bridge of his nose. His hair is combed over to one side on top while the sides taper off around his ear and neck.

“I am Lieutenant no Taisho, with the Committee for Land Reform. I have documents that your family is registered to take over as new owners for this hectare? It states that the previous owner was one…Akitoki Yuji.” He is all business now and unblinking. 

The name pulls at her heart and she quickly squashes the memories.

“We need to make sure that all the paperwork has been properly put together. In addition, it is important for us to understand if your family will be working farm landowners or non-working farm landowners. We also need to know how many hectares of farmland you will be leasing and the financial aspects of the payment conditions need to be evaluated.” Lieutenant no Taisho explains in Japanese. It is so clear, and his accent is perfect, she could have mistaken him for a native-born man. His words, however, cut through her like a knife in water. 

 She stands unmoving for several moments, thinking at the list of responsibilities she suddenly has. It reminds her of the continued situation that she, and her family, found themselves in the wake of a post-war society, grappling with aspects of the economy they had never had to worry about before.

Azabu, Tokyo, Japan

April 17. 1910

Our family has prospered for many generations under the bakufu, but at what cost? As the last of the cherry blossom petals fall from the sky, it reminds me of the renewal of our Empire. The great Goisshin and end of sakoku!

Under Emperor Meiji, Nippon has had wealth of heights never before seen. By opening the ports to our friends in the West it helped create prosperity all over our great Empire. The shoguns of the past have suffered the most under this new system. Chichi-ue is insistent on trades and negotiation and refuses to accept modernization.

I do not think chichi-ue would be most fond if he learned of the literature that has been brought into the Gakushujo. The periodicals with girls of skin equally as pale and their hair. Eyes the color of the sea. The books on the theories of public affairs, leadership, and governing of people. The stories of fields upon fields that are not green: a sea of yellow, a sky of pure blue. Where rice is not a national identity.

The older girls talk of attending to the study-abroad program in the United States of America. I fear the day upon which Ozawa-sensei asks chichi-ue for permission to send me upon that journey.

It’s not that I do not wish to join my friends in this voyage: to see a world beyond the coasts of Nippon; to meet those that do not speak my language; to eat foods that I am unfamiliar with. These are experiences I wish most to attend.  

Chichi-ue has other plans for my life. He has arranged for me to meet a man, the son of someone he worked with many years ago. Haha-ue has been most opposed to those plans. She wishes for me to finish my education and continue my studies in the theory of public affairs. Haha-ue has not been able to stop chichi-ue’s decision for me to attend the omiai though. I realize she will not be able to stop him when he withdraws me from school.

We have fallen on hard times. Chichi-ue has taken the last of his fathers' paintings to sell. Next will be haha-ue’s uchikake and then my kimonos. I expect soon, we will sell the house. This is why he has arranged the omiai. I have not yet laid my eyes upon my future betrothed, but I know of his name: Setsuna no Takemaru. I am told he is a handsome man. A prosperous man. It is said that of his past grandfathers served as a samurai under Nobunaga Oda himself. He is a man worthy of marriage according to chichi-ue.

Is this truly the life I wish to live? Am I to be traded off like cattle and prepared for slaughter?

Shinagawa, Tokyo, Japan

June 19, 1946

1309:28 PM

Inuyasha continues to tap his pen impatiently against the clipboard, silent. A film of dirt clings to her skin but it does not hide the color that drains from her face. Blue eyes stare up at him in unquestionable horror. 

She must have a Western relative, to have eyes as piercing blue as hers are. 

“Do you have that information now?” He asks again in Japanese as he waits for a response. Amber eyes look back down to his clipboard, eyeing the number of names that follow “Higurashi”. There was five other families on the list with whom he needed to speak to regarding land ownership. 

Just before the end of the war, landholding kept a noose on those tenants that sought to earn an income. Should a tenant want to work on a landowners farm, it was required to give up all crops but that required for a family of a certain number to survive— and sometimes, less than. As rice grew in cost all over the country, landholders became very rich. That was not trickled down to those that worked the fields however, and the income gap increased with each passing season. Major land reforms helped bring equal distributions to those in a rural society. 

In the wake of the war, instated programs by the United States helped dismantle large plantations into individual plots, sold dirt cheap. It helped to collectively allow more peasant farmers to own their own land and strengthen the growth of the agricultural business through diversifying crops. 

“I’m sorry but my grandfather has that information secured. He is in the fields with Mama though, I won’t be able to get it right now…” His eyes snap back to her face as she speaks again. 

“Okay, I would like you to take this…” Inuyasha shuffles through his papers until he finds the sheet of interest. He scribbles down an address first in English, on instinct, before recalling the situation. He scratches out the direction before re-writing the location in simplified kanji. He turns the clipboard in her direction.

“This is the location of my office.” Inuyasha circles the written address. “You will need to call the office to make an appointment first; here is the phone number.” He taps the right hand side of the page with his pen several times before underlining it. He practically rips the sheet from out of the clip board and thrusts it in her hands. As he does so, he notices a resolve settle in her eyes.

“I will do it.” She says simply. 

And then. 

“Are we done?” 

He raises a thick eyebrow, surprised by the sudden dismissal. It is unusual for such occurrences— often, he was forced to bend himself time and time again in their manners and gestures. It was exhausting for him as he tried to learn and understand the culture. Especially as many of the islanders expected him to have already understood it. 

Although an Issei, an immigrant-born Japanese-American, to his knowledge his mother never practiced any her Japanese culture. She only spoke Japanese in the house and was insistent that he only speak it with her and in the confines of their home. It was not until her passing that he realized how much memorabilia she had  safeguarded, even from him.

His mother was an enigma he would never fully understand. 

This country was equally a conundrum he found himself thrust into. 

A hand waves in front of his face.

“Are you okay?” A look of concern flashes across her face, eyebrows knit together and mouth pursed in confusion. 

Inuyasha frowns and practically glares at her, as if she were at fault for his situation. 

“Just remember to call and make an appointment. You will lose your land if you do not complete this in a timely manner.” He points to the sheet of paper before turning on his heel and storming away. 

Behind him, the woman’s face quickly changes from one of confusion to one of restrained anger. Her fingers clench tighter around the stick she holds and she bounds off to release the frustration. 

[wherewindysurgeswend]

Deep heart’s core: chapter two

guess what? chapter two is ready! i actually already had it written, it just needed some polishing, which i’ve now done. enjoy!

part one can be found here.

taglist (please dm, send an ask or leave a comment to be added or removed): @tunes-on-a-typewriter @rememberedkisses​ 

Anna was suddenly conscious of someone watching her. She turned her head and saw a young woman looking at her, smiling. Anna looked again at the young woman who had been watching her. James had fallen asleep in his mother’s arms. The woman who had been watching looked little older than Anna herself, perhaps twenty-two or twenty-three, if that. She was slim and graceful, with shining blonde hair and sparkling grey eyes. It was evident by her impeccably tailored silk dress, large diamond earrings and fine kid gloves that she belonged to a world entirely different from Anna’s own. She smiled, then turned and left.

Long after she had bid the Lynches goodnight, Anna found her herself unable to stop thinking about the unknown woman. After tossing and turning in bed for what seemed like an eternity, she got up, got dressed, and went for a walk. Now that the sun had completely sunk beneath the horizon, the air was considerably colder. An icy wind blew from the sea, and Anna pulled her thin sweater closer about her body and crossed her arms. She walked for a few minutes, and then found herself close to the door of the first-class ballroom. The door opened and someone came out, accompanied by a burst of sound – laughter, loud conversation, and music – and light. Anna looked at the person who had left and caught her breath. It was the woman she had seen before, looking even lovelier than before in her evening finery. She, too, caught a glimpse of Anna. She smiled, and to Anna, it seemed to be the loveliest thing she had ever seen. “Oh, it’s you,” she said, still smiling. Her voice was soft and measured, and yet there was laughter lurking in her eyes. Anna smiled back. “I’m Margaret Kittredge,” said the woman. She said nothing else, but it was clear by her expression that she was waiting for Anna to introduce herself. “Anna Byrne,” she said.

“Well,” said Margaret, “what are you doing around here at this hour? It’s hardly a place for a nice girl like you.” she laughed, but there was no malice in her laughter. It was as if she and Anna were the only two people in on a wonderful joke. “I needed a walk,” said Anna, and Margaret smiled sympathetically. “I know the feeling,” she said. “In fact, that’s why I left the ballroom. I knew if I stayed in there any longer I’d lose my mind.” It was now Anna’s turn to be sympathetic. “I know exactly how you feel. I hate parties.” Margaret smiled, as if in silent agreement. Then, she looked concerned. Anna’s smile faded. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“You’re cold,” said Margaret in reply, “I can tell. You’re shivering.” She removed the luxurious mink coat she was wearing and draped it gently about Anna’s shoulders.

 Doreen Kittredge was having another sleepless night. She didn’t know where her daughter was, but that wasn’t the issue. Mrs. Kittredge was sleepless for an entirely different reason. This reason had much to do with her friend, Mrs. Schuyler, but more to do with Mrs. Schuyler’s daughter, Phyllis.

 Phyllis was around Margaret’s age. They had been friends as children, but they had since grown apart, which, though she would never admit it, had greatly relieved Mrs. Kittredge. Phyllis was not the type of girl she had hoped Margaret would associate with. Phyllis smoked in public. Phyllis had two broken engagements. She bleached her hair, plucked her eyebrows and used false eyelashes. And now she had been told that Phyllis would be in Paris at the same time as the Kittredges and would be returning home on the same ship as them,  and would  Doreen please keep an eye on her and make sure she didn’t get in too much trouble? Needless to say, Mrs. Kittredge did not want to do this. She had enough on her plate with her daughter’s upcoming wedding. Margaret’s younger brother Paul would be graduating high school that spring as well.  There was simply too much for her to organize. At least that was the reason she concentrated on. Doreen felt, somehow, that her daughter was drifting further and further away from her. Perhaps she knew, somewhere deep in the part of one’s mind that always knows these things, that this couldn’t be avoided. Maybe she thought having Phyllis in the house would make it worse. Maybe she thought she could fix everything, if she could only keep Margaret away from people she didn’t approve of. 

Anna and Margaret parted just before sunrise. Determined to get some sleep, Anna lay awake until the sun was so bright that she had to give up, thinking of the slim, graceful girl with her satin dress and fur coat and the laughter in her grey eyes, of the silver glow of her hair in the moonlight, of the subtle scent of her perfume. Margaret, for her part, was in a similar state, remembering the nervous tap of Anna’s fingers on whatever surface was within her reach, how she shivered in her thin sweater and cotton blouse, her enraptured silence when she looked at the sea, the way she said Margaret’s name. Margaret was named after her grandmother Kittredge, a stern old woman whom Margaret had always been afraid of. She was called Peggy most of the time, to avoid confusion, but her mother always brought out “Margaret” when she was upset with her daughter. Margaret had always hated her name, but to hear Anna say it, it was the most beautiful name in the world. When her mother said it, “Margaret” was a reminder of everything she must do, lest she disgrace the family name. It was “Margaret, don’t slouch”, “Margaret, how did your nails get so filthy?” and “Margaret, act like a lady”. But when Anna said it, it was nothing of the sort. There was as much kindness in those three syllables when Anna said them as there was disapproval when Margaret’s mother did. Margaret thought she might not even mind if Anna were to call her Peggy, as much as she loathed the nickname. As Margaret was learning, any name can be beautiful if it’s said with love.

At eleven o’clock Anna was jerked awake by a knock on the door of her cabin. She stumbled out of bed, rubbing her eyes, and opened the door. There stood Margaret Kittredge, carrying a basket. “Good morning!” Said Margaret cheerfully, “we’ve missed breakfast, but I got a busboy to give me some food.” 

“Morning,” said Anna, squinting slightly in the late morning sunlight. Margaret walked into the cabin and sat down on the bed. “How…?” Asked Anna, gradually recovering from her surprise.

“Oh, you know,” said Margaret, selecting a muffin from the basket and biting into it, “a little batting my eyelashes at him, a little do-you-know-who-my-father-is…” Anna wasn’t sure she believed that. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at Margaret. “And then what?” Margaret sighed. “And then I slipped him a ten-dollar bill. There really isn’t any fooling you, is there?” Anna laughed and Margaret handed her a slice of toast. “So,” began Anna, “where are you on your way to?” Margaret rolled her eyes and swallowed a bite of muffin. “Paris. I’m getting married next June and my mother insists on getting the dress in Europe.” Anna felt a little sting at those words, although she wasn’t sure why. So Margaret was getting married. What was it to her? They had known each other for less than a day. And besides, what did it have to do with her? Maybe it was that Margaret didn’t seem very excited about the idea. Yes, that must be it. “Anna?” Margaret said. Anna snapped out of her reverie. “What?” 

“I asked where you’re going, but, incidentally, are you all right?”

“I’m — I’m fine. Just a little tired, that’s all. I’m going to London.”

“Why London?”

“I work for the Montreal Daily News. I’m supposed to cover a story.” Margaret looked surprised. 

“The Montreal Daily News? Well isn’t that quite the coincidence!” 

“Why?”

“Didn’t you know? My father owns that paper!” 

Anna hadn’t known that, but she supposed she ought to have made the connection. There was a large oil painting hanging in the entrance hall at the newspaper building. Anna had walked past it countless times. She had read the plaque beneath it almost as often — J. Thomas Kittredge, founder. She had even met the man once. On her second day at the paper he had dropped by to visit. Mr. McGill had introduced her as “Miss Byrne, our latest recruit” and Mr Kittredge had laughed and said “new blood, eh?” He was a tall, red-faced man with an impressive moustache and a huge cigar hanging from his lower lip. He had shaken her hand. His hands were huge and his grip was very strong, but Anna knew better than to let him know she felt it, so she had looked defiantly up at him — he was close to a foot taller than she was — and gripped his hand as hard as she could. He had laughed again and turned to Mr. McGill. “Feisty, isn’t she, Jim?” He had said. Mr McGill had looked confused. He thought of Anna as timid and anxious, certainly not feisty. With that, Mr. Kittredge had stubbed out his cigar, picked up his hat, winked at Anna and walked out, his booming laughter still ringing in her ears. 

Margaret was nothing like her father, Anna thought. Or maybe she was. After all, Margaret was on the tall side (five foot eight, maybe five foot nine, in Anna’s estimation) and had her father’s steel-grey eyes. She had his sense of humour and easy way with people. Margaret’s laugh was a summer shower and her father’s was a thunderclap. And, of course, after her initial terror had subsided, Anna had found herself rather liking Mr. Kittredge. It was hard not to, and Margaret was the same way. There were no two ways about it, Anna thought: you either liked Margaret or you didn’t really know her.

There was a knock on the door and Anna got up to answer it. When she opened the door, she found Kathleen Lynch leaning against the doorframe. “Morning,” she said, “I’ve been looking all over for you. Mother’s been worried sick since you didn’t show up at breakfast.”

“I overslept. Won’t you come in?” Kathleen stepped into the cabin and saw Margaret sitting on the bed. “Who’s this?” She asked bluntly, jerking her head towards Margaret. 

“That’s my friend Margaret.” Margaret waved enthusiastically at Kathleen. “Pleased to meet you,” said Kathleen dryly. Margaret seemed a little put off by Kathleen’s attitude. Frankly, Anna was too. Kathleen could have been friendlier. “Well, I suppose I’d better be going,” said Margaret, “mother will be expecting me.” She picked up her basket and left. 

“What was that about?” Anna asked, a little irritably, once Margaret was out of earshot.

“What was what about?” Kathleen retorted.

“Oh, please. Don’t play innocent. What do you mean by being so rude to her?”

“I don’t think I was rude.” Anna raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

“Oh, you don’t? Well I’d advise you to be more careful with your tone, then. You scared her off!”

“I’d advise you to choose your friends better,” Kathleen shot back.

“What the hell do you mean by that?” Anna snapped, her voice rising in frustration. 

“I mean girls like that are all the same. They get bored with their high-society friends so they slum it with girls like us.”

 “That’s some judgement to make about someone you’ve known for thirty seconds!”

“You don’t have to listen to me. It’s your funeral.” Anna rolled her eyes.

“Aren’t you getting a little too upset over this?”

“Maybe I am. I’m just trying to warn you.” Anna sighed.

 “I don’t want to fight with you, Kathleen. This whole thing is ridiculous.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I guess mom got to me with her worrying. She thought something had happened to you, but you were just sitting in here with that girl. I was upset because I was worried over nothing.” Anna softened. 

“That’s O.K. Let’s go find your mom so she knows I’m all right.” 

They found Florence in the second-class lounge. As soon as she spotted them she got up and ran towards them. “Where have you been?” She asked Anna, “I’ve been so worried! Is everything all right?” Anna was still a little too disoriented to answer. “Everything’s fine, mom,” Kathleen broke in, “she just overslept, that’s all.” 

“Oh, thank goodness. Have you had breakfast?” Anna nodded. 

“Good. I was afraid you had missed it. Well, did you two have any plans for today?” 

“I have to write to my mother,” Anna said, “I know she’ll be anxious to hear from me, so I figured I would start writing a long letter now and mail it as soon as I get to London.” Julia nodded approvingly. “What about you, Kath?”

 “Oh, you know, the usual. I think I’ll commit a few crimes while we’re in international waters. Might as well do it now, while I can’t be arrested.” 

“I know you’re kidding and it’s never any use telling you this anyway, but won’t you please try to stay out of trouble for once?” Kathleen pretended to be shocked.

 “How can you say such a thing? Tell me, dear mother, when have I ever been anything but a model of good behaviour? How can you be so cruel as to cast aspersions on your own daughter’s character?” Florence just laughed.

 “Well, if you must get up to no good, at least try not to get caught.”

“No promises,” Kathleen shouted over her shoulder, already on her way out of the room.