#the front door of my childhood home which had a lock six feet high. so he was just. a sheet covered lump 3 feet tall jumping relentlessly

[vargamornight]

just dreamed that a bunch of friends and i were playing a trivia gameshow game and i was joking with one of them about how ridiculous hank is as a shortening for henry, when the host said it was my friend's turn and asked for the full name of some guy called flank.

dream me could barely contain the insanity inside my skin while i tried to look so, so normal waiting for her to answer. i kept thinking "you have the chance to be the funniest person on earth right now." she was very smart and might have known the real answer, but mirth was more important as she glanced over at me, sighed, and said "travis flenry-otti" and i LOST IT laughing so hard and celebrating by throwing both arms in the air behind my contestant podium like i just won the superbowl

i literally woke up laughing in my real body in my real bed because i was laughing so hard, my entire body was shaking with the force of my silent laughter

[jerkbitchidjitassbutt]

It Was You (Part One)

A/N: Jensen and Y/n are childhood best friends. When his agent informs him that his image could use some improvement for a role, will she help him? Or will her feelings get in the way?

A holiday (Christmas centric) Jensen x Female!Reader Best Friends to Lovers series for @spnchristmasbingo. Un-beta’d, so all mistakes are mine. Header created by me with images from Google. Chapter word count: 3371

Series Warnings: break up; angst-ish at times (if you squint), but mostly all the fluff.

I consider this an AU, as Jensen is single in this fic. This is completely a work of fiction, and I wouldn’t want his reality to be any different, this is purely for entertainment.

The slight chill of a Vancouver December morning roused you from a peaceful sleep, making you snuggle further into the down blanket and comfort of your plush bedding. It was two weeks until Christmas and the weather was supposed to be a balmy high of 32 degrees today, so you had planned to stay in, do some shopping online, and stay by your cozy fireplace with every holiday movie you could find. Willing yourself to get five more minutes of shut eye seemed like a helpless feat as the wintry cold seeped into your apartment. You opened your eyes to the gentle prisms of light floating in through the adjacent window, the sunrise indicating it was time to get up for the day.

Sitting up to perch on the side of your bed and grabbing your wide-rimmed glasses from the nightstand, you slid your chilled toes into the warm slippers waiting and shrugged on your fuzziest sweater. It may be time for that fire sooner than you thought.

Padding into your kitchen to get a much-needed caffeine fix after last night’s dinner and drinks with the rest of the cast and crew, you took your favorite mug from the cabinet and loaded the coffee maker, making an extra cup or two for you and any visitors you might have a bit later.

Jensen’s apartment was down the hall, and if you knew him, he’d still be sleeping, but he’d probably wander over at some point this morning. Cradling the mug in your hands warmed them slightly and sent a shiver down your spine. Even your warmest pajamas and the heat from the thermostat did little against the Canadian winds. Laughing slightly to yourself, you’d thought you’d be used to it after six years of winters here.

You wandered towards the windows of your living room to pull back the long curtains. It was a favorite spot to have your coffee and gaze at the sights of Vancouver. Settling on the window seat, you felt a warmth spread through you as you noticed it had snowed in the night, and from the looks of it, it was a depth of fresh, soft powder – a type that you rarely saw growing up in Texas. People were bundled up tightly as they walked the streets, but a few people, adults and kids alike, were already out playing in the thick blanket of snow.

As your coffee began to warm you through, you couldn’t help the giddy feeling of joy that rose at the sight – it made the holiday season and the spirit of it even more intense than just viewing the lights of downtown and the large decorations everywhere. For some reason, snow just sealed it all up in a nice little bow.

Sure enough, about halfway into your second cup of coffee, you heard a key in your door and Jensen shuffled in, still wearing his pj’s with tousled hair, but he had thrown on a thick sweater too.

“Good morning.” You called, still seated at the large window.

“Mornin’ sweetheart.” He replied with a quick wave as he tossed his keys on the counter and waltzed into your kitchen in search of his mug, his voice still thick and gruff with sleep.

He mixed his cream and sugar and took a long sip, letting out a contented sigh after the steaming liquid entered his body. He was notoriously grumpy without his coffee, but he always met you with a sweet greeting when he came over. Walking around your kitchen island and into your open living room, he slumped into the recliner across from you and pulled the leaver to release the footing, allowing him to lean back with his feet up. He adjusted himself to get comfortable, careful to not spill the mug in his hand.

“What time did you get in last night?” you asked, taking another sip from your own cup.

He covered his eyes with his free hand, still obviously tired. “About 2:30. You know how Jared gets when we break for hiatus, he never wants the party to end. He was still talking to me as I was shutting my door.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Jared was the most social person you’d ever met and knowing that he wouldn’t be back to Canada and on set for a month, he would always soak up every little bit of time he had with the cast and crew. Even though Jensen was griping about it now, you knew he also didn’t mind. He’d probably be missing everyone, especially Jared, about four days into the break. You didn’t get home until about 1 a.m., and that was only because you were beginning to doze off in your cocktail.

“Tell Cliff thanks again for driving me home last night. I just couldn’t cut it.”

“Yeah, I know… Lightweight.” Jensen teased.

“Hey, you didn’t have a 5 a.m. set call yesterday like some of us.”

Jensen huffed a small laugh from his seat, still resting his hand across his closed eyes. His sweatpants hung low on his hips and his green Henley stretched across his biceps as he rested his coffee on his thigh. A slight 5 o’clock shadow and the bedhead he was sporting all combined into a handsome image. He may be your best friend, but you could still appreciate the looks the man was blessed with.

Seemingly close to falling back asleep, you called to him in a hushed voice, “Jay. If you want to go back to sleep just put your coffee mug on the table, okay?”

“Hmmmph. No, I’m up.” He fibbed, as evident from the way he blinked widely once he opened his eyes again. Forcing himself to stand, otherwise he would really fall back asleep instead of just resting his eyes, he walked towards you with his cup, dragging his feet slightly as his legs sluggishly pulled him across the room. His head was down and his shoulders were wilted, but he was trying to get his body moving.

When he reached you, you felt his chest bump your shoulder before he rested his cheek on the crown of your head, his arm dangling by his side as he slumped. He took a deep breath before rubbing his hand across your back and standing, smiling as you peered up at him with a grin.

Licking his lips, he finally peered out to the streets below and his eyes went wide, “Y/n!” he practically shouted.

You flinched, “What? What’d I do?”

“You didn’t tell me it snowed!”

Giving a huff and a giggle, you couldn’t help but be sarcastic, “I’m sorry, was I supposed to while you were falling asleep in my chair?! Besides… it’s Canada. It’s not like snow is very rare here.”

“Y/n! That’s, like, snow! The kind we used to wish for when we were kids!”

“I know, I thought that too.”

“Well, c’mon!” he said, setting his cup down on the ledge. “We gotta go!”

“What? Go where?”

Jensen was already halfway through your living room and heading for the front door but paused to turn and point a finger in your direction, “You, me, snowman. Now.”

“Jay,” You whined. “It’s cold and its early. You sure you don’t want to just watch Netflix?”

“Y/n!” he said once again, looking as excited as a 12-year-old on a snow day from school. “Snowman! Please?” he begged, waving his arms frantically as he gestured outside.

“Okay, okay. Fine. No need to use your puppy eyes on me. I’ll meet you outside in 15 minutes.”

With that, a huge grin broke out on his face and he took off down the hall, leaving you to go in search of your heaviest ski jacket.

Jensen knocked on your door soon after you shrugged into the puffy coat, dressed in thick snow pants, his own jacket, and a black beanie and gloves with a small bag in his hand. Straitening your scarf before locking your door, he barely gave you a moment to put on your knitted pom beanie before he was pulling you by your hand towards the elevator of your building and pushing you out of the revolving doors into the frigid air. Heading to the side where a large park sat adjacent to your complex, he looked around before tugging you along to a spot with a large open space. He nodded to himself, as if to say he’d found the perfect place for his snowman-building escapade. As your boots crunched beneath you, you each began gathering handfuls of snow to make a large base, then packed and sculpted two more spheres. Though you initially protested, you had to admit that it was fun, and the coldness against your cheeks wasn’t bad after a bit, particularly after seeing how happy Jensen was when his finished product towered over yours. He’d managed to gather the majority of the snow within about a six-foot radius of where his snowman stood before piling it high.

“Hey, hey… look at that. An accurate height difference!” He touted, teasing you.

“Oh, hush you. It’s not my fault that you were given the extended version of the human body.” You glared at him playfully.

He laughed as he bent to rummage in the bag he’d brought, producing two carrots. He wiggled them in his hands before handing one to you. He was just about to place it in a very telling place when you grabbed a handful of snow and threw it in his direction.

“Jensen!” You berated. “That’s not where the carrot goes! There’s kids out here!”

He stood up slowly, turning to you with a serious smirk, “Did you seriously just throw a snowball at me?”

Wiping your hand on your pantleg quickly, you gave him a mischievous grin, “Who, me? I’d never.”

“Oh, its on!” he declared as he bent to scoop up the little bit of remaining snow in his reach, that which he hadn’t used for his snowman.

Ducking behind your own, he threw and missed, sending the snow flying passed you. A quick grab from around you produced another snowball that you chucked from behind your shield, hitting him square in the chest. The fight lasted for a good while, the two of you trying your hardest to target the other as many times as possible and receiving some laughs and glances from passersby as they walked along the sidewalk. Finally, Jensen gave up and took off towards you, chasing you in circles before he tackled you into the plush ice, pinning you beneath him as he tried to bury you both.

“Jay! Oh my God, stop! Its freezing!” you yelled through your laughter.

“Truce?” he asked, his eyebrows raised in a challenge.

He was still on top of you, his nose and cheeks a bit flushed from the wintry air. He still had that devilish smirk on his face, but his green eyes were soft and something beneath them made your heart flutter slightly in your chest. He scanned your face quickly before glancing towards your lips, but you were quick to snatch another fistful of snow to smash onto his head. Scrambling out from underneath him, you ran as he said something about you being a cheater before he jumped to his feet.

After the war ended and a truce was finally declared, you both put the finishing touches on your snowmen after you found sticks for the arms and coerced Jensen to put the carrot in the right spot. He stood back proudly, admiring your handiwork.

“Hey.” He gestured to you, “C’mere.”

A bit warry that he was going to tackle you again, you came to his side as he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and turned on the camera. Pulling you into him, he said, “Gotta have evidence of our masterpieces.” He reached around your waist and tugged you in close, framing both of you and your snowmen in the background. The cold air made the tip of your nose and the apples of your cheeks change in color, and there was still some snow in your hair from when Jensen wrestled you, but both of you smiled widely. Feeling the scruff of his short beard against your temple and his arms wrapped around you made you think about the way his eyes danced across your face moments ago, but the thought was quickly dismissed as he stepped away from you slightly after he made sure the picture wasn’t too blurry.

“Oh, crap. Is that what time it is?” he said, alarmed, looking at his phone screen. “I have to meet Stacy in an hour.”

Stacy was his publicist and agent, but he usually didn’t meet with her during the hiatus. “You’re meeting Stacy today? What’s up?” you asked, a bit confused.

“She wants to talk to me about this movie. Some sort of romantic drama she thought I may be good for.”

“Oh,” you replied, “that’s great! You didn’t tell me! Would you have to cut back filming the show?” While you were a bit surprised, you were genuinely happy for him.

“Stacy knows Supernatural comes first, so I hope not.”

“Well, let’s get inside so you can warm up and change. I was going to make my mom’s chili and cornbread for dinner tonight, if you want to join me after your meeting.”

The excitement on his face was palpable as his eyes lit up the moment you said it, “You know how much I love your mom’s chili. We’re just meeting for coffee near her office, so I’ll bring the beer.”

As you were walking back into the building, your phone rang. It was Stephen, your boyfriend of three months.

“Stephen, hey.” You said as you entered the elevator, not missing the slight eyeroll that Jensen gave.

“Hey, honey. How are you? I didn’t want to call too early, just in case you were still sleeping after last night.”

“I’m good, thanks. Actually, just got done building a snowman with Jensen.”

A short silence followed, until Stephen spoke up again. “Oh, that’s nice.” He said, his voice noticeably clipped. “Well, I’m going to take my lunch break soon. Would you like to meet up? I can come to your side of town.”

“Uh, sure. I’ll meet you at that café on 3rd in about a half an hour?”

“Sounds great. See you there.”

Shoving your phone back in your pocket, you ignore Jensen’s stare as the elevator climbed to your floor.

“So…” he pressed. “Stephen?”

“Yeah, Stephen. We’re going to meet up for lunch while you have your meeting.”

“Hmph.” He huffed.

“Jay, we’ve known each other our whole lives and to this day you’ve never liked a single guy I’ve ever dated. What’s wrong with Stephen?”

“I don’t know. He’s just kind of… meh.”

He wasn’t lying, if you were being truthful. Stephen was meh. He was cute and had nice eyes and dimples, but he didn’t make you laugh. He was a bit dull and your sense of humor didn’t mesh with his well. Still, you thought that it might get a bit better once you got to know each other and began to understand one another more. Your relationship was still very casual, but maybe it could go further? You weren’t really sure, honestly.

“What about you and Laura?” you asked, quickly changing the subject.

“I told you… that was nothing.” He quipped as you reached your door. “We went on like three dates.”

“Yeah, the last one being just this past week.”

“Yeah, and it just didn’t go well.”

You let out a small sigh. Discussing your dating lives wasn’t really something the two of you loved to do with each other. Maybe when you were teenagers, yeah. You’d asked each other for advice and gossiped a bit about the people in your high school, but as you grew into adults it just became a subject you both steered away from besides the occasional, hey I’ve got a date conversation. Neither of you had ever really found a person that the other approved of, each finding a reason to be picky every time.

“I’m sorry, Jay. I’m just deflecting.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I was pushing.” He said sincerely with a small smile. “Well, you enjoy lunch. My meeting’s at 1:30 across town, so I should be back by 4 at the latest. Pick out a movie for us, okay?”

“Sounds great. I will.” With that, he kissed you quickly on the side of your head and went into his apartment as you ducked into yours. You freshened up quickly and changed, grabbing a different peacoat, hat, and scarf as your others were still wet.

It was a short walk to the café, and they had good sandwiches. You were surprisingly hungry, so you were glad to see Stephen waiting outside for you. He gripped your hand tightly and gave you a quick kiss in greeting before leading you into the restaurant. You were seated and ordered quickly, knowing that he would have to return to work soon.

“So, how has your day been?” You asked as you shrugged off your coat, hanging it on the chair behind you.

“It’s been… good.” He muttered.

“Uh oh,” You said, getting his attention as he looked away from you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, really. I was just surprised to hear that you were with Jensen today. You had mentioned you were going to stay home.”

Stephen smiled, almost in an attempt to let you know that he was trying to be lighthearted about it, but you could tell it bothered him.

“Yeah, when he saw it snowed last night, he just really wanted to make a snowman.” You laughed, trying to steer away from the subject. Stephan wasn’t overstepping, but he also wasn’t going to prevent you from spending time with Jensen. The two of you had been inseparable since, well, practically since birth. Your parents had been the best of friends, so you were pretty much raised together.

“Have you, um…” Stephen began, hesitantly. “I know you’ve been friends forever, but have you ever had feelings for him?”

His blue eyes shown with a slight jealousy as you felt a slight pang to your heart.

“No, of course not.” You managed to say with a steady voice and a smile as you picked up your napkin to place in your lap.

It was a lie, one that you’d been telling for years. At one point in your life, you were in love with Jensen. But, the past was in the past. If Jensen didn’t even know, why should Stephen?

Stephen seemed satisfied with your response for the most part, and the two of you had a pleasant lunch. When you stepped away to use the restroom, your phone chimed. Stephen tried not to even look towards your side of the table where your phone sat, but when he saw Jensen’s name, he read the text quickly before the screen dimmed.

Hey, sweetheart. Finishing up here soon and then I’ll be heading home. Do you need me to grab anything from the store?

Stephen knew the two of you were a package deal, and thought he could honestly be alright with it, but between working together and spending practically all of your time together, he was starting to wonder where he fit in in your life. He busied himself by checking his Instagram as he thought about what he should do and found that Jensen had tagged you in a photo from this morning. The caption was simple, just a few words about the filming hiatus and the first snow of the season, but the two of you were so close. Stephen found himself wishing that you could reserve a smile like that for him, but he had yet to see it.

It hurt, but he knew he couldn’t play second fiddle to Jensen. He cared about you, but perhaps it was better to bow out now.

“Hey, sorry about that.” You said brightly as you got back to the table, smiling. It still didn’t reach your eyes, though.

Stephen leaned forward on his elbows with a sigh, “Y/n, I think we should talk.”

To be continued...

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Jensen Only

@mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk​

[p-artsypants]

P-Artsypants Fic Masterpost!

This information is always available on my blog. 

Find most, if not more, of these fics on:

Fanfiction.net | Archive of Our Own | Wattpad

(~AU’s, *Finished, ❤️Author’s Favorites)

Kingdom Hearts

~❤️Rage Awakened AO3 | FF.net- Ten years ago, Terra, Aqua, and Ventus lost their fellow apprentice, Sora, in Deep Jungle. Now, they are to return with two new students, Riku and Kairi, to lock the heart of the world. All the while, something watches from the trees. Feral!Sora AU

My Kingdom for a Heart AO3 | FF.Net - The curse of being one of the Princesses of heart, is that there’s always someone out to get you. As Xemnas looked failure in the face, he reached out in a last ditch effort and destroyed Kairi’s heart. Now her friends must travel the worlds again. Sora, to find a way to recover Kairi’s heart, and Riku, to make amends to those he has wronged. All the while, the darkness grows. [Unfinished, on permanent hiatus]

Miraculous Ladybug

One Shots

*❤️Amalgam- When an young man is rejected for being ‘incompatible’ he turns into the akuma ‘Amalgam’ able to fuse two people together. And later Adrien and Marinette would debate if it was lucky or unlucky that they got hit. (Also Available in Russian)

*Sing We All Noel- After receiving the worst Christmas present ever from his father, Chat Noir finds himself out on the streets with nowhere to go on Christmas Eve. Thankfully, Ladybug finds him and brings him home.

*Speechless- In a world where everyone has a soulmark, the first words their soulmate will say to them, Marinette is born without one. But Adrien Agreste has two. Curious, considering he’s mute.

*❤️Tunnels of Love- The night started out with an accidental kiss from Adrien Agreste, and ended with her bleeding in the Catacombs of Paris. Ladybug, the wielder of the miraculous of good luck. Yeah right. (Some blood)

*The Reveal That Wasn’t- First Parts My ending to kittybug’s Tumblr Prompt

*What A Mess We’re In- Ladybug has a lot on her mind, and when Chat Noir bugs her enough, she tells him she’s going to confess to her Crush, Adrien Agreste. Chat’s reaction is not what she’s expecting.

*Oblivi-oh no! - A retelling of Oblivio, except Ladybug is the only one to lose her memory. How will Chat deal?

*Bad Day (3 chapters) - Marinette was Ladybug! This was Adrien’s luckiest day ever! Except it wasn’t, because all his good luck was used up in one go. Turns out this might be the worst day of his life.

*One Win, So Many Losses- Marinette was forced to break up with Adrien. It had been a low blow from Gabriel, to be sure. But she was Ladybug. She’d find a solution…right? An alternate ending to Chat Blanc, where Adrien doesn’t Cataclysm the akuma.

*❤️Five Minutes- Gabriel has had enough of all these girls fighting over Adrien. He decides it’s high time Adrien picks one, and arranges the perfect opportunity for him to do so. Each candidate has five minutes to present why they’d be a good girlfriend. Marinette decides to take this opportunity to shoot her shot.

~*Panache- Every eligible maiden was invited to the Prince’s ball. That included Marinette, scullery maid in her own household. But her stepsisters destroyed her dress, and she can’t go to the ball in rags. Or can she? (Cinderella!AU)

*Perfect, No Matter What-In which Gabriel sets the bar even lower for himself, a reveal happens because of pain medication, and the new guardian actually goes to Chloé for advice.

*Crushed- Stuck under a collapsed building together, Chat Noir and Marinette have a heart to heart.

*Lovelace- Convinced that he's unlovable, Adrien is quickly thrown for a loop when Marinette confesses her love for him out of the blue. An akumatization and reveal later, he changes his mind about being unlovable.

Long Fics

*❤️Longest Night- (FF.net | Ao3) - The day started out sucky to begin with. Her crush ousted to the class and Adrien. Lila taking pride in exacting her revenge. But by the time patrol was over, a young man was dead, and Ladybug’s identity was at risk. Lila was the least of her concerns. Good thing Adrien was taking it all like a champ. (Rated M for scenes of torture)

*❤️Nine Lives- (FF.net) When Adrien Agreste is scheduled to go to a Military School in Germany, Chat Noir must make a critical decision. Does he give up his Miraculous? Or does he give up his life as Adrien? I’ll save you the trouble of guessing, he gives up being Adrien.

*Tender Words- When Marinette finally gets the guts to confess her feelings for Adrien, some things go so wrong, and other things go so right.

*Integrity- Overwhelmed with her responsibilities, guilt, and drama, Marinette has an emotional breakdown in front of everyone, and even hands over her earrings in a moment of weakness. Only for a few seconds, but the damage was done. Adrien’s pretty quick on the uptake like that.

~Much Obliged- Everyone deals with grief differently. Some take to drinking, others devote themselves to charity. Adrien Agreste? Well, he became a cowboy. Marinette Dupain-Cheng is a witch, one of very few in the world. She knows what it’s like to be doubted, and assumed delusional. Maybe that’s why they got along so well. Or maybe it’s just because they both like big hats. AU where everything is the same, except instead of superheroes, Adrien is a Cowboy and Marinette is a witch. (Unfinished) (Based on a AU by @bugaboo-n-bananoir)

*I’ll Handle This- “I’ll solve all your problems,” Plagg had said. “You just have to agree to it.” A fixed relationship with his father, Lila to stop bothering him, and Ladybug to fall in love with him? Who wouldn’t agree to that? Except Plagg was the God of Destruction and Chaos and had a more…hands-on approach. Adrien just wants his body back. (Body swap fic)

The Ghost of Smokey Joe- Adrien Agreste was acting bizarre. Stilted body language, plastic smile, and he seemed to have forgotten how close they were. Before she can get the truth out of him, Marinette finds herself as the sole heir to the Gabriel brand and the mansion, following the murder-suicide of both Adrien and Gabriel Agreste. The mystery continues as Tikki explains that Adrien was Chat Noir...but if Adrien is six feet under, why is Chat Noir still running around?

How To Train Your Dragon

One Shots

The Vikings Have Their Tea (FF.Net | AO3)

Arranged Marriage- Takes place at the beginning of HTTYD

❤️Breathe- Survival of the fittest

~Childhood Friends- At the Sandbox

❤️Easy Fix- In which Hiccup has a bad day

~Fashion Designer- Astrid needs a fill in

❤️Frozen- In Which Astrid takes a Dip and things get frisky (Rated M)

❤️Headache- In Which Hiccup hits his head….really hard

❤️Heir- In Which Hiccup is Picked (Longer version by FateCharms)

Illness- In Which Stoick is a dad

~Illusionist- Trick gone wrong

~In the Walls- In which there’s a poop ghost

~Knocking On The Wrong Door (2) - A chance encounter

❤️Messages- Astrid is Frustrated with Hiccup’s obliviousness

~To Mirkwood- Hiccup is not a dwarf

~Monster Falls- Hiccup and Astrid take a dip

❤️Mute- In which there’s a quiet stranger

~Music Video (ImgHS)- He didn’t expect it

❤️Operation: Lovebirds- In Which the gang makes a plan, and Hiccup gets Drunk

~Over- Too many nightmares

~Partners in Crime- A normal day at work

~Pirate- Astrid is the greatest treasure

~Prince- He doesn’t want to be a broken King

❤️Sorting Things Out- In Which Astrid gets her ducks in a row

~The Dragon and The Dame- Beauty and the Beast Au

The Pit- In Which Hiccup is rescued

Hide and Seek- Part 1

Lost and Found- Part 2

Long fics:

*❤️Infernal Responsibility- Being the son of the chief takes brains, courage, and a lot of patience. But at his father’s the request for marriage, Hiccup decides he has had enough. When he seeks out a life of ease, he runs into more than what he bargained for.

*❤️Roses and Lilies- “Astrid, you and I both know you’re much tougher than I am. You’re more brave, and a better fighter…but just for a little while…could we pretend that I’m the one protecting you?” “Oh gods yes!” (Also Available in Spanish!)

*~What the Water Gave Me- The sea is a wild and dangerous thing, something that cannot be foretold or predicted. Hiccup discovered this many years ago, in human naiveté. Yet, what was meant as a sacrifice became a new life, one like no one could comprehend. He now finds himself once more in the unknowing hands of those that sentenced him to death. He only prays things will be different this time. Merman!AU

*Parasite- Soulsnatcher Dragons are rare but deadly. But, As Hiccup finds out, it’s the eggs you have to watch out for.

*~320 State Street- Gobber’s Goods. A Hardware Store that was rumored to have everything you needed. She thought she only needed a job. Turns out, she needed a lot more than that. (A Modern AU no one asked for)

*~❤️The North Tower- When Finn Hofferson died, Astrid inherited his castle in Wales…and a whole lot more. Something sinister lurks in the North Tower.

*~❤️Boy Toy- AO3 - At the age of 21, Princess Astrid lawfully has to pick a husband. But when the perfect groom is nowhere to be found, she requests the toymaker to create one for her. It’s safe to say that everyone in the kingdom is a little concerned. (Pinocchio!AU I guess?)

No, You Go First- AO3 - The Chief of Berk was a headstrong viking, stubborn and full of pride, and willing to do whatever it takes to keep his village safe. But for a moment, he puts that aside, and listens to his son. In which Hiccup convinces his dad not to make him go through Dragon Training, and the subsequent changes that follow.

*In Due Time- AO3 - As another illness sweeps through Berk, Gothi needs another ingredient for her medicine…one that doesn’t exist anymore. Fortunately, she kept that old spell book around for such an occasion. Big Hiccup is sent to five years into the past, and his younger self sent to take his place in the future. But it’s only a few days, what could go wrong?

Trollhunters: Tales from Arcadia

❤️Arcadia or Bust- In Which Arcadia welcomes back it’s underground citizens.

Teen Titans

Oneshots:

~Big Brother- Don’t turn out the light (Horror)

Dear Jason- Bruce Writes a letter

Just Drawing- Bruce thinks about Robin

The Prisoner- Starfire is Guilty

Of Mustard and Three Foot Purple Tongues- A collection of Oneshots and Drabbles

Long Fics (*Finished):

*~❤️Carol of the Bells- High in the dark Bell Tower of Notre Dame, there lives a mysterious bell ringer. Legend tells of the angel who fell from the sky, and the curse she bares. There are few who know her true identity though; her master, the priest, and the acrobat that performs on the streets below. Based loosely on ‘The Hunchback of Notre Dame’ RobxStar and slight BBxRae

*No Escape- Three years ago, Starfire escaped an Alien race called the Gordanians, to arrive on Earth. They’re back, and ready to put Starfire back where she belongs, behind reinforced Titanium bars. Robin’s not about to let her go…if only he hadn’t got captured first. How does it feel to be the alien, Robin?

*Now you Know My Pain- When the new Villain, Gender Bender, comes to down, the Titans find themselves in an odd situation. They’ve been turned into the opposite gender against their will! Now in order to change back, they must learn to understand the gender they’ve turned into. Rated T for obvious reasons. A great read if you’ve ever wondered why girls or guys do [blank].

*Paint it Black- Robin disappeared three months ago. Now, Jump City’s crime rate is mysteriously being taken care of by a normal, albeit strange, teenage boy who goes by the name Black. As the Titans befriend this lunatic, they begin to see a relation between him and their missing leader. Will they be able to find Robin, or will Black turn them all insane as himself? Actually, contains NO OC.

*Saving Grace- “When I’m done with you, you won’t be able to walk upright or speak coherent sentences and all you’ll see is my mask and my voice repeating in your head…Weak. Richard Grayson, I am not tough, I am everything that you fear.” Happy Ending! Smudge of RobStar. NO Slash!

Other Fandoms

Final Fantasy XV

❤️Requiem for Pitioss-“O King. The god’s have heard your cries. Know that we weep with you. The Oracle’s calling has not yet been fulfilled. But…Lunafreya as you know her cannot return the way she was.” Noctis looked up, hopeful. “But she can return!” Canon divergence from Chapter 9. Happy ending. Some spoilers.

Final Fantasy X

I Do…I Guess? - “I would…like to ask you something.” “Shoot.” “Well…if it’s not too much…I’d like to ask you…to marry me.” Knowing what’s to come during her pilgrimage, Yuna asks Tidus to marry her, strictly for convenience and having an official next of kin, of course. Starts after Luca and how this decision would affect the rest of the story.

Beauty and the Beast

*❤️Behold the Beast- A Oneshot alternate ending to the Animated Film

Cinderella

*❤️Midnight- “When the clock strikes twelve, the spell will be broken,” the fairy godmother had warned. A retelling of the story, when Cinderella doesn’t escape the ball in time. Oneshot

*So This is Love- What if Jaq and Gus hadn’t made it in time to help Cinderella? A new twist on the ending of the classic Fairytale, and what lies beyond the story. She still gets her happy ending and her Prince, and her step family gets their just deserts.

Sleeping Beauty

*❤️A Love Song Back To Me- Maleficent saw the loophole that stared her in the face. Prince Phillip would break the curse in time, for sure. After all, he was betrothed to Aurora. So in an effort for her evil plan to stay in action, Maleficent takes care of the young prince herself. Phillip never imagined having to live off the land like the birds above. Alternate twist on the classic Disney tale.

Escaflowne

Down Feathers- Hitomi’s depressed. She’s been away from Van too long, he comes back to visit her…but what if something went wrong with the transfer? (Not finished. Never will be finished. Mwahaha) Circa 2012

*Angel’s Wounds- Fanelia’s been victorious in their most recent battle with Basrum. Unfortunately, someone is wounded and just seeks solace in his love that lives so far away. Post Anime.

Momma Look Sharp- With the war between Fanelia and Basrum finally coming to a close, the kingdom is celebrating. The young king, however, is suffering from an experience unlike any he had before. Van finally seeks solace in his wife.

[thiswasinevitableid]

63. sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery, but today you’ve caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure the “[person] is [attractive] enough to warrant flower theft” and I’m trying to figure out how to break it to you that we’re on our way to a graveyard

Danbrey, sfw, please!

Here you go!

It’s the rabbit that draws her eye; it’s not everyday a bunny the size of a Beagle stops outside the window of Amnesty House. She follows the leash from the harness to the hand holding it, and spots a much bigger issue.

“Miss?” She steps onto the porch, “could you not take my flowers.”

“Yeeeeep!” The other woman drops the pocket knife she’s using to saw off the stems of tulips and irises, scrambling to her feet and tearing her fishnets in the process, “shit, um, I’m sorry, didn’t think you’d notice, I’ve done it before and you never, um, nevermind.” She pulls the rabbit back from the fence, “anyway, I really needed this, they’re really pretty and I think she’d like them-”

“Ohhhhh, I get it” Dani crosses her arms, “in that case, I’ll come with you. I want to see the person who’s cute enough to warrant multiple flower thefts.”

“Um, or! You could not do that and I could promise to never do this again?”

“Nope, my mind’s made up.” She slips on her Birkenstocks and heads down the front stairs. Jake and Moira are both home, so she’s not too worried about locking up.

“Fine. Let me just-” The woman scoops the rabbit up and sprints away. Dani could just let her go, but those were her heirloom irises, damn it, and she wants to make sure the person who gets them knows just how valuable they are. So off she goes, soles slapping the pavement as they head towards the lakeside.

She won’t be surprised if the recipient is hot; god knows the thief is. The freckles and red-streaked hair is just the icing on the combat-boot, denim-vested femme cake.

Growing up in this neighborhood means she never loses sight of her target, even when she’s cutting through alleys and taking sharp turns. Then the woman goes straight through a wall of junipers and Dani is not interested in getting that scratched up by plants today. This is one of the borders of the park, so all she needs to do is find the front entrance to relocate her very distinct thief.

Ten minutes of hunting later, she spots a red and black pompadour on the other side of a low, stone wall. She’s cross-legged on the grass, which the rabbit is happily munching by her side.

“Okay, seriously, does the person you’re seeing know those...are...aw fuck.”

The other woman turns from the gravestone she’s sitting by to look at her, “Yeah. This is kinda why I didn’t want you to come with me. I mean, it was a hella weird thing to do anyway, but” she sweeps her arm at the cemetery, “this is super not a date.”

“I’m so sorry.” Dani sits on the opposite side of the rabbit, “That never even occurred to me. I…” she sneaks a glance at the dates; the death was only three years ago, “I’m sorry for your loss, too.”

Silence settles between them; she feels like she should say something else, that it’d be rude to just shrug and walk away, but she has no clue what words are even appropriate here. The rabbit stretches its neck, bonking it’s nose into her hand. She pets it, smiling when it nestles closer.

“Mom really liked bulbs.” The thief says softly, “when I was little we’d always go for walks in the spring just so we could see the first ones popping out of the ground. She liked ones that were unique, so when I saw the orange and black ones in your garden all I could think was how happy they’d make her. How she woulda stopped to look at them whenever she walked past. I know it’s silly but I, um, this felt like the closest I could get to giving her that.”

The breeze carries dried iris petals from the headstone into the park beyond the wall.

“You could have just asked. There’s no way I would have said no if you told me what they were for.”

“It felt too weird. Everything feels weird these days.” She sighs, reaching out to rub dust from the stone, “I thought I was ready to come back, but it’s like the whole town is haunted.”

The fresh flowers wobble, then land on the grass. Dani grabs them and puts them back, the rabbit honking indignantly when she does.

“At least Dr. Harris Bonkers is having a nice time.” The other woman rubs the rabbit’s ears, “isn’t that right, buddy?”

“What’s he a doctor of?”

A small, beautiful smile, “Psychology. He worked hard for his PhD.”

“I bet.” She gives the doctor a final rub on the nose, “I’ll, uh, I should give you two some time alone.” Dani stands, brown eyes watching her the whole time.

“Thanks for the flowers.”

She smiles, “You’re welcome.”

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

Moira’s expecting a package, so Dani doesn’t even look up when the older woman answers the front door.

“Um, hi. I, um, I was hoping to get some flowers? The blonde who lives here said I should ask this time. I’m Aubrey? Wait, I don’t think I told her that.”

“Which blonde?”

“The cute one?”

“....I meant the boy or the girl.” Moira replies, amused, just as Dani reaches the door.

Aubrey waves, “Hi again. Could I take a few Irises?”

“Sure. Oh, wait, let me get you the pruning shears; the knife isn’t great for cuttings.”

“Dani! Could I get a hand really quick?” From the accompanying clanks, Barclay needs said hand urgently.

“Coming! Here, you can just leave them on the steps when you’re done.”

One hour and a narrowly avoided soup disaster later, she’s herding the others to the table when there’s another knock on the door.

“I, um, I stuck these in my bag without thinking.” Aubrey holds out the shears. In the porchlight, her eyes are red-rimmed and there’s a slight smear in the black lipstick on her upper lip.

“It happens. Jake, my roommate, once went a whole day with six boxes of poptarts in his bag because he got distracted while unloading groceries. Uh, if you’re not busy we’re just about to have dinner. Seems only polite to invite my biggest admirer.”

Aubrey raises her eyebrows.

“My, uh, the biggest admirer of my gardening?” Her cheeks are hot, but her flustered tone seems to relax Aubrey.

“Sure. I just have to make sure I get home in time to feed Dr. Harris Bonkers.” She grins and steps into the house.

It’s common for Amnesty residents to bring home friends (or strangers), so when Barclay spots Aubrey he simply ducks back into the kitchen for an extra set of cutlery and a bonus bowl. As always happens when Barclay cooks, everyone is too busy stuffing their faces for the first ten minutes of dinner to say much.

“So, Aubrey” Mama sips her tea, “what brings you to town?”

“I grew up here but, um, I left a few years ago to try and kickstart my career.”

“What do you do?”

Literal sparks fly from her guest’s fingertips as she wiggles them, “magic.”

“Whoah, sweet!” Jake leans forward, “do you do stunts?”

“Nah” Aubrey’s smile is brightening under the excitement, “I do sleight of hand, card tricks, that kind of thing. I like the classics. Lots of other people do too, but I hit a spell where no one was interested in booking me, so I came back here to regroup.”

“Smart thinkin’. Pretty much everyone here knows that tryin to make ends meet on the road can lead to serious trouble.”

“Or grand theft auto.” Dani smirks at Barclay.

“That was an accident!”

“Wait, what?” Aubrey laughs, the room feeling ten times brighter when she does, “how does that even happen?”

Barclay recounts the story, blushing all the while, then points out that at least he never got stuck halfway up an off-limits slope because he was daydreaming, and to which Jake responds that that’s not even in his top ten wipeouts, dude.

Aubrey hangs around, helping Dani with the dishes while they chat about childhood pets (Dani had a frog that required her to drop food on his head in order for him to notice it). When she finally re-laces her boots, her new friend is smiling constantly and Dani never wants to look at anything else.

“Hey, uh, tonight was really fun. Do you want to come by on Friday? I’m, uh, I’m cooking, so it won’t be as good as what Barclay made, but I’d love for you to try my breakfast salad. Oh, and my muffin. Muffins.”

“I’d love to. And don’t sell yourself short, flowergirl” Aubrey winks, shooting finger guns her way, “I bet your dinner is gonna rule.”

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

“What do you think? Too much?” Aubrey turns from the mirror. Dr. Harris Bonkers wiggles his nose.

“You’re right, the heels are too much. Gotta leave some plausible deniability. And be able to run away if this goes bad.” She tosses the black heels back into the closet and squeezes into the tiny bathroom to start on her make-up. It has to be perfect, or as perfect as she can get it in the mirror that’s inexplicably high up on the wall.

Yeesh, is getting ready to impress a cute girl really the thing making her consider moving back in with dad? It would be easier to find the right clothes if she had a space to hang them up in, instead of stacked boxes to dig through. But walking the streets where mom used to hold her hand, eating at the places they’d go for breakfast, all those vortexes of memories are hard enough to free herself from on their own. Sitting in the chair she used to, expecting to see her at the table or in the yard, those things would be too much.

It’s been easier since she found Amnesty. Since she found Dani. It’s hard to be stuck in the shadows of the past when there’s a beautiful ray of sunshine sitting next to you. She has dinner there most days now, practices her new routine while Dani updates the inventory for her online plant store.

Relatedly, Aubrey now has several rabbit-safe houseplants that Dani always offers to come check on. Aubrey’s actually pretty good with plants, but she’s not about to miss out on an evening sandwiched next to Dani on her futon and the ghost of jasmine perfume winding around her when she sleeps.

Amnesty is lit only by the string lights on the porch and the glow from the kitchen when Aubrey bounds up the stairs.

“Dani?”

“Oh, hey, you’re early.” Dani leans in the doorway of the kitchen and Aubrey’s brain sounds like a cartoon, nothing but “boiiings” and “wowzas” for a good ten seconds.

Dani’s hair is out of it’s usual messy bun, and instead of her overalls or patched jeans, she’s in a short, heather green tank-top dress. Getting on her knees to kiss the vine tattoos weaving up her legs would be too forward, but boy does she want to.

“Took an earlier bus just to be safe. Man, it’s so weird to be here when it’s this quiet.”

“No kidding; I can’t remember the last time I was the only one here.” Dani shoos her through the kitchen and out into the back garden. The little white table usually piled with tools is cleared of everything but a green tablecloth and two wine glasses. That’s another point in the “yes, this is a date” category. The first was that Dani was careful to emphasize that everyone would be gone for the night for camping, work, or ill-advised urban skate stunts.

“Sit your cute butt down, I’ll be right back with dinner.”

That’s the first butt-based compliment she’s gotten, so score one for this red skirt. When Dani comes back, Aubrey can’t help but bounce in her seat; her crush is carrying a board covered in fruit and bread, and she absolutely sees a fondue pot on the counter inside.

“Since Cheesy Heat closed, I thought I could recreate it for us. Kinda. Barclay said he thinks they used a super fancy cheese that’s hard to get here.”

“That’s probably why they went out of business. Dang, why so many fondue pots?”

“Barclay keeps getting them for Christmas.” She sets the chocolate one down next to the cheese, and when she tugs on her dress before sitting down Aubrey’s mouth waters from more than just the meal.

The stars come out as they take turns making a mess of the table cloth, but the longer she sits here, happier than she’s been in years, the more Aubrey knows she can’t put the question off.

“Why the fancy dinner tonight?”

Dani dabs her mouth with her napkin, “I, uh, I, Cheesy Heat was my go-to, uh” her voice drops to a whisper, “date place.”

“Ohthankgod.” Aubrey flops back in her chair, “this is a date.”

“Did you think it wasn’t?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t wanna, like, assume.”

“Fireblossom” Dani stands, making a little half circle to reach her, “the first time we met you were stealing from me assuming I wouldn’t notice.”

“To be fair, getting caught in petty theft is less terrifying than making an ass out of yourself in front of a hot girl.” She grins as Dani straddles her lap.

“...okay you’re right, I’d hate to embarrass myself in front of you. Again.”

“A girl who can run me down in sandals is pretty hot.”

“Pfft” Dani giggles, hides her face in Aubrey’s shoulder, “not as hot as a girl who can sprint while carrying a twelve pound rabbit.”

“Seventeen.” Aubrey kisses her cheek, whispers teasingly, “you shoulda told me this was a date, I could’ve brought flowers.”

“You can bring me some next time.” Dani sits up, smiling at her.

“Sweet, I know somewhere I can get them for free.” She bounces her eyebrows, making the vision of perfection in her lap laugh.

“Nope, this time it’ll cost you.”

“How much?”

Dani cups her cheeks and dives down for a kiss, Aubrey clinging to her dress and sighing as she slips her tongue between her lips.

“Few of those” Dani murmurs, brushing their noses together.

“I’m happy to pay them.”

[wintrcaptn]

Forbidden Ch. 3 | Andy Barber

Summary : You used to babysit Jacob when he was younger and had the biggest crush on his dad, Andy. But being in High school at the time, you knew it was just a stupid fantasy that could never happen. Now, six years later, you were visiting your hometown while on winter break. Once you found out the news about Jacob, you knew you had to go check up on them. But things take a turn when you find yourself alone with Andy Barber.

Chapter One // Chapter Two

A/N : I can’t believe we are here. I never thought my little one shot would be so liked! Thank you to everyone for all the love and the amazing feedback! It’s seriously has helped me and motivated me to write more lol.

Please know that this is NSFW! Thank you. And please let me know what you think!

Your bags were packed and ready for the trip back to California. Soon things would be back to the way it was. You’ll be overwhelmed with school and work and trying to stay afloat, you’ll be too busy to think about Andy.

And honestly, you were looking forward to it.

As every second passed, you couldn’t help but grow more nervous. Andy was coming to take you to the airport, which meant you would be alone with him...again.

This wasn’t how you wanted to spend your last day home. You were hoping to have breakfast with your family and enjoy the last few hours with them.

But he was persistent. And as much as you wanted to ignore him and move on from it, you knew you had to get closure. You both did.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?” Your mom asked.

You shook your head and flashed a soft smirk. “I’m sure. There’s a few people I need to see before I leave and I don’t want to drag you around town.” You lied, forcing a chuckle.

She only nodded and pressed a kiss to your head.

You weren’t sure how she would feel if she knew Andy Barber was coming to pick you up. With everything that’s happening, and doesn’t help that he is much older than you, keeping it from her felt like the right thing to do.

“Well your dad and I are going to get some brunch. I hope you have a safe flight and please text me when your board the plane.”

“I will. Now go, enjoy yourselves.” You said. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

With that, she and your dad left.

Not long after, Andy pulled up to your house. Your heart began to palpitate in your chest, while heat radiated off your body.

Not knowing what was about to happen. What you would say, or how this would go, you were beyond nervous. And there was no turning back.

Andy knocked on your door, feeling just as nervous as you.

He felt like a kid in high school all over again. Something he hadn’t experienced in quite a while.

But you had this power over him that made it impossible to even think straight.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door.

“Hi.” You said.

“Hi.” He exhaled, with his hands deep into his pockets. He couldn’t help but look you up and down, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to feel you again.

The two of you stood there for just a moment, gazing at one another, until you forced yourself out of his trance and collected yourself.

“Um—do you want to come in? I just need to grab my charger and make sure the back door is locked.” You said.

Andy nodded and stepped into your house. It was his first time actually being there. Sure he had dropped you off countless times, but he never stepped foot inside.

You could feel his gaze on you and it was making it harder to concentrate.

“You excited to go back to California?” He asked, following you up to your room.

You swallowed hard knowing he was close behind, and he was about to see your childhood bedroom.

“Mhm.” You hummed. Looking for your charger.

Andy leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest. Not once taking his eyes off of you.

The longer he watched you, the more it drove him crazy. He was ready to sacrifice everything just to have you.

“Found it.” You turned to leave the room but abruptly stopped just a few feet in front of Andy.

He was like a statue, locked in his stance.

“We should leave—“

“Not until we talk about this.” He said, almost harshly. “You can’t dance around it anymore. We need to lay it all out there.”

Letting out a sigh, you decided to give in and get through it. He was right, you couldn’t ignore the inevitable.

“Alright. Let’s talk.” You exhaled. “That kiss was—“

“Don’t say it was a mistake. Because if it was, you wouldn’t have kissed me again.”

You were taken aback from his sudden response, and from the look of his body language, he seemed frustrated.

“Admit it Y/N.” He said, slightly glaring at you with his dark eyes, almost like he were trying to undress you with just his gaze. “You want me just as bad as I want you.”

Your breath quivered in the back of your throat. How did he manage to make you so flustered without even touching you?

“And what if I do?” You managed to get out.

Andy bit on his lower lip just before clenching his jaw. Every part of him knew this was wrong. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way for you. But damn, he needed to have you.

“Then show me.” He said, his voice was low, almost growling.

How did he make something so wrong look and feel so right?

It was instant. Before you had a chance to think clearly, you dropped your charger, and closed the distance between you.

Your lips pressed against his, moving in sync, as his hands grasped your waist and halted you up in his arms, making your legs wrap around him.

Andy walked over to your bed, holding you close to him and not once tearing his lips away from yours. As he laid you on the mattress, he quickly slipped his shirt off before climbing over you.

His firm body pressed against yours made you clench in anticipation, yearning to feel him push himself deep into you. Just the thought made you let out a soft moan.

Just the sound made me want you that much more. His kisses became harder, almost as if he hungered for you.

How was it possible for a kiss to have this much power of someone? How could it turn you into this? Into someone that let themselves fall for someone they couldn’t have.

There were too many different emotions coursing through Andy, and he needed to catch his breath before anything else happened.

You could see the pain in his eyes, he was torn and honestly you hated knowing you were doing this to him.

The ball was in your court, and you had to choose.

“Just this once.” You said, cupping his face and forcing him to hold your gaze. “Let’s pretend we are two people in a room who can’t keep their hands off each other, and tomorrow...”

You paused for a moment, “tomorrow we will be Andy and Y/N and we will go back to our lives and move on as if this never happened, okay?”

Andy stares into you, waiting to see if you will change your mind, but hoping you wouldn’t.

It looked like he was nervous to move, and you knew just what to do.

“Show me how bad you want me.” You whispered. “Right now—I belong to you.”

He swallowed hard and felt his shaft grow under his clothes. It was an instant turn on and before he knew it, he quickly returned his lips back to yours.

Not everything had to make sense. Sometimes, two people can’t control falling for one another. It was involuntary.

But it happened.

The two of you left it all on the table and you were both lost in each other. Surrendering to one another.

You let out a loud moan, quivering and clenching under his touch. In this moment, after finally caving in to each other, you were both slowly falling deeper.

All of his frustrations, all of his pent up tension and desire had been expressed with every thrust, every kiss and touch. He made sure to make you feel it all.

“Fuck, Andy!” You would scream whenever he thrusted deep into you, instantly making you reach your peak.

The way his name fell from your lips only made him more aroused and eager to fuck you that much harder.

“Fuck, baby you feel amazing.” He hissed, pumping faster and faster into you.

Pleasure ran through his veins and he couldn’t help himself.

“Get on your hands and knees.” He growled. “Now.”

You did as you were told, panting from the sensation.

He’d tangle his hand into your hair and pull just enough to arch your back, as he shoved himself back into you. Forcing yet another moan out.

“Good girl.” He exhaled, thrusting faster.

Andy couldn’t take it anymore. The way you clenched around him, making him throb inside of you, he knew he wouldn’t be able to control it much longer.

“Cum with me.” He demanded.

It wasn’t hard for you to get to that point. The way he controlled the situation, took over and showed you his dominance. It only stimulated you more.

All the built up tension would soon be gone in just a few more thrusts.

It was all too much to handle, and neither of you could fight it anymore. Suddenly, his thrusts grew deeper and slower, and before you knew it, you were both lost in the pleasure, reaching your peak simultaneously.

For just a moment, Andy’s mind went blank. Something that he honestly needed after only months of chaos.

Your breaths were heavy, but you could care less. And the two of you fell into the bed, panting.

Andy glanced over at you, knowing what this meant. And though he knew it was going to end eventually, he wanted to savor this, laying here with you.

He pulled you into his arms and held you close to him.

Laying your head on his chest, you could hear his heart beat, absentmindedly running your finger over his glistening skin.

You weren’t his, and yet he knew he couldn’t lose you. He just couldn’t.

Being there with you, it felt real and right. And that was more confusing than anything. Because even after having you, he still only wanted you.

Since the day you knocked on his door, he had only been losing his mind. There’s just something about you that made him dazed and confused.

Even with no words shared, just silence, this was the only place he wanted to be.

For that, he knew he was screwed.

“We should head to the airport now.” You said, wishing you didn’t have to leave.

“Right.” He muttered.

And just like that, it was time to face the real world.

[sincerelysaraahh]

Let me know if you think I should continue!

Forbidden Ch. 3 | Andy Barber

Summary : You used to babysit Jacob when he was younger and had the biggest crush on his dad, Andy. But being in High school at the time, you knew it was just a stupid fantasy that could never happen. Now, six years later, you were visiting your hometown while on winter break. Once you found out the news about Jacob, you knew you had to go check up on them. But things take a turn when you find yourself alone with Andy Barber.

Chapter One // Chapter Two

A/N : I can’t believe we are here. I never thought my little one shot would be so liked! Thank you to everyone for all the love and the amazing feedback! It’s seriously has helped me and motivated me to write more lol.

Please know that this is NSFW! Thank you. And please let me know what you think!

Your bags were packed and ready for the trip back to California. Soon things would be back to the way it was. You’ll be overwhelmed with school and work and trying to stay afloat, you’ll be too busy to think about Andy.

And honestly, you were looking forward to it.

As every second passed, you couldn’t help but grow more nervous. Andy was coming to take you to the airport, which meant you would be alone with him...again.

This wasn’t how you wanted to spend your last day home. You were hoping to have breakfast with your family and enjoy the last few hours with them.

But he was persistent. And as much as you wanted to ignore him and move on from it, you knew you had to get closure. You both did.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?” Your mom asked.

You shook your head and flashed a soft smirk. “I’m sure. There’s a few people I need to see before I leave and I don’t want to drag you around town.” You lied, forcing a chuckle.

She only nodded and pressed a kiss to your head.

You weren’t sure how she would feel if she knew Andy Barber was coming to pick you up. With everything that’s happening, and doesn’t help that he is much older than you, keeping it from her felt like the right thing to do.

“Well your dad and I are going to get some brunch. I hope you have a safe flight and please text me when your board the plane.”

“I will. Now go, enjoy yourselves.” You said. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

With that, she and your dad left.

Not long after, Andy pulled up to your house. Your heart began to palpitate in your chest, while heat radiated off your body.

Not knowing what was about to happen. What you would say, or how this would go, you were beyond nervous. And there was no turning back.

Andy knocked on your door, feeling just as nervous as you.

He felt like a kid in high school all over again. Something he hadn’t experienced in quite a while.

But you had this power over him that made it impossible to even think straight.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door.

“Hi.” You said.

“Hi.” He exhaled, with his hands deep into his pockets. He couldn’t help but look you up and down, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to feel you again.

The two of you stood there for just a moment, gazing at one another, until you forced yourself out of his trance and collected yourself.

“Um—do you want to come in? I just need to grab my charger and make sure the back door is locked.” You said.

Andy nodded and stepped into your house. It was his first time actually being there. Sure he had dropped you off countless times, but he never stepped foot inside.

You could feel his gaze on you and it was making it harder to concentrate.

“You excited to go back to California?” He asked, following you up to your room.

You swallowed hard knowing he was close behind, and he was about to see your childhood bedroom.

“Mhm.” You hummed. Looking for your charger.

Andy leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest. Not once taking his eyes off of you.

The longer he watched you, the more it drove him crazy. He was ready to sacrifice everything just to have you.

“Found it.” You turned to leave the room but abruptly stopped just a few feet in front of Andy.

He was like a statue, locked in his stance.

“We should leave—“

“Not until we talk about this.” He said, almost harshly. “You can’t dance around it anymore. We need to lay it all out there.”

Letting out a sigh, you decided to give in and get through it. He was right, you couldn’t ignore the inevitable.

“Alright. Let’s talk.” You exhaled. “That kiss was—“

“Don’t say it was a mistake. Because if it was, you wouldn’t have kissed me again.”

You were taken aback from his sudden response, and from the look of his body language, he seemed frustrated.

“Admit it Y/N.” He said, slightly glaring at you with his dark eyes, almost like he were trying to undress you with just his gaze. “You want me just as bad as I want you.”

Your breath quivered in the back of your throat. How did he manage to make you so flustered without even touching you?

“And what if I do?” You managed to get out.

Andy bit on his lower lip just before clenching his jaw. Every part of him knew this was wrong. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way for you. But damn, he needed to have you.

“Then show me.” He said, his voice was low, almost growling.

How did he make something so wrong look and feel so right?

It was instant. Before you had a chance to think clearly, you dropped your charger, and closed the distance between you.

Your lips pressed against his, moving in sync, as his hands grasped your waist and halted you up in his arms, making your legs wrap around him.

Andy walked over to your bed, holding you close to him and not once tearing his lips away from yours. As he laid you on the mattress, he quickly slipped his shirt off before climbing over you.

His firm body pressed against yours made you clench in anticipation, yearning to feel him push himself deep into you. Just the thought made you let out a soft moan.

Just the sound made me want you that much more. His kisses became harder, almost as if he hungered for you.

How was it possible for a kiss to have this much power of someone? How could it turn you into this? Into someone that let themselves fall for someone they couldn’t have.

There were too many different emotions coursing through Andy, and he needed to catch his breath before anything else happened.

You could see the pain in his eyes, he was torn and honestly you hated knowing you were doing this to him.

The ball was in your court, and you had to choose.

“Just this once.” You said, cupping his face and forcing him to hold your gaze. “Let’s pretend we are two people in a room who can’t keep their hands off each other, and tomorrow...”

You paused for a moment, “tomorrow we will be Andy and Y/N and we will go back to our lives and move on as if this never happened, okay?”

Andy stares into you, waiting to see if you will change your mind, but hoping you wouldn’t.

It looked like he was nervous to move, and you knew just what to do.

“Show me how bad you want me.” You whispered. “Right now—I belong to you.”

He swallowed hard and felt his shaft grow under his clothes. It was an instant turn on and before he knew it, he quickly returned his lips back to yours.

Not everything had to make sense. Sometimes, two people can’t control falling for one another. It was involuntary.

But it happened.

The two of you left it all on the table and you were both lost in each other. Surrendering to one another.

You let out a loud moan, quivering and clenching under his touch. In this moment, after finally caving in to each other, you were both slowly falling deeper.

All of his frustrations, all of his pent up tension and desire had been expressed with every thrust, every kiss and touch. He made sure to make you feel it all.

“Fuck, Andy!” You would scream whenever he thrusted deep into you, instantly making you reach your peak.

The way his name fell from your lips only made him more aroused and eager to fuck you that much harder.

“Fuck, baby you feel amazing.” He hissed, pumping faster and faster into you.

Pleasure ran through his veins and he couldn’t help himself.

“Get on your hands and knees.” He growled. “Now.”

You did as you were told, panting from the sensation.

He’d tangle his hand into your hair and pull just enough to arch your back, as he shoved himself back into you. Forcing yet another moan out.

“Good girl.” He exhaled, thrusting faster.

Andy couldn’t take it anymore. The way you clenched around him, making him throb inside of you, he knew he wouldn’t be able to control it much longer.

“Cum with me.” He demanded.

It wasn’t hard for you to get to that point. The way he controlled the situation, took over and showed you his dominance. It only stimulated you more.

All the built up tension would soon be gone in just a few more thrusts.

It was all too much to handle, and neither of you could fight it anymore. Suddenly, his thrusts grew deeper and slower, and before you knew it, you were both lost in the pleasure, reaching your peak simultaneously.

For just a moment, Andy’s mind went blank. Something that he honestly needed after only months of chaos.

Your breaths were heavy, but you could care less. And the two of you fell into the bed, panting.

Andy glanced over at you, knowing what this meant. And though he knew it was going to end eventually, he wanted to savor this, laying here with you.

He pulled you into his arms and held you close to him.

Laying your head on his chest, you could hear his heart beat, absentmindedly running your finger over his glistening skin.

You weren’t his, and yet he knew he couldn’t lose you. He just couldn’t.

Being there with you, it felt real and right. And that was more confusing than anything. Because even after having you, he still only wanted you.

Since the day you knocked on his door, he had only been losing his mind. There’s just something about you that made him dazed and confused.

Even with no words shared, just silence, this was the only place he wanted to be.

For that, he knew he was screwed.

“We should head to the airport now.” You said, wishing you didn’t have to leave.

“Right.” He muttered.

And just like that, it was time to face the real world.

[snelbz]

Lovely {6}

@tacmc​ x @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty​ collaboration

A/N: Hello, you beautiful people. That’s right, it’s back. We love to see y’all’s reactions to our stories so please reblog and comment and let us know what you think! Enjoy!

FIND PREVIOUS CHAPTERS HERE

SHELBY’S ASK BOX // SHELBY’S MASTERLIST

TARA’S ASK BOX // TARA’S MASTERLIST

Azriel opened his eyes, enjoying the comfort of his bed. He assumed it was fairly early, considering only the faintest stream of sunlight had peeked through the curtains, and Asher wasn’t crying to be released from the confines of his crib yet. Until then, he would lay and relax.

There was a shift on the other side of the mattress and Azriel cursed himself, silently, for waking her; but, when he rolled onto his side, Elain was still fast asleep.

Her hair had come undone at some point in the night, and the brown curls were sprawled out across Azriel’s dark gray sheets. Her plump, pink lips were parted, her breathing even. His comforter laid just below her breasts, and it took a hefty amount of self control not to reach out and brush his fingers over her peeked nipples.

The night before had been incredible. They’d made love twice, and every other second was spent in drunk kisses and soft giggles. He took his time exploring her, and she with him, and he’d never experienced anything so wondrous and enthralling.

He was falling in love with her, and the thought was terrifying. It was one thing to like someone, to even like them a lot, but now he was falling, head over heels, at full speed. He had never fallen in love before, not like this.

He came with way more baggage than most men his age, and that was just the messy custody battle with Ianthe. He was dreading the conversation they’d have when she asked about his parents.

Draeven was not his father’s last name. No, he’d taken his mother’s maiden name as his own when the bastard was officially sentenced to prison. His name had never been formally released, always redacted in every story and news segment, so very few knew the truth, the notoriety of his childhood. He didn’t want to see the look of pity in her eyes when she found out.

He rolled over, pressing soft kisses to Elain’s shoulder, and just as she was starting to stir-.

A cry came from the baby monitor.

“Thanks, little dude,” Azriel groaned quietly as he pulled his discarded boxer-briefs on from the night before and hurried across the hall. Asher was sitting up in his crib, eyes wide as he gazed around the room. “Good morning,” he cooed, lifting his son from his crib and carrying him to the changing table. “We have a guest this morning, so we can’t be screaming this early, yeah?” Asher just chewed on the pacifier Azriel had popped in his mouth and stared up at his father while he put a fresh diaper on him. Azriel pressed a kiss to his belly and said, “Glad we’re on the same page.”

A cute onesie was a necessity and after getting Asher as adorable as possible, Azriel carried him back to his bedroom. Where he found the bed empty.

He glanced towards the bathroom, seeing the light was off and it was empty. Then he heard a noise from down in the kitchen. He crept down the stairs and found Elain in front of his coffee maker, his shirt skimming her thigh. He could tell she wasn’t wearing anything underneath it.

On quiet feet, Azriel stepped up behind her and pressed a kiss to her neck. “Good morning, beautiful.”

She jumped as she spun around, and for a second Azriel thought that she might curse him for scaring her, but her eyes were on Asher’s. She took the giggling baby into her arms and said, in a perfect, high-pitched voice, “Good morning.”

Asher clapped his hands together, his toothless grin wide as Elain set him in his highchair. Azriel was already mixing his cereal together, which was a good thing, because Asher was obviously hangry. His angry little voice filled the air as he banged on his highchair tray.

“I know, I’m coming,” Azriel promised, grabbing a little spoon from the drawer and pulling a chair up in front of the highchair. After putting a bib around Asher’s neck, he was chowing down.

Before he could even ask, Elain had set a cup of coffee down in front of him. Azriel smiled as he put Asher’s spoon up to his little lips. Most of the cereal trailed down his chin.

“Thank you,” Azriel said, looking at Elain, who had sat on the opposite side of the table. “It’s going to be a coffee day. Someone kept me up all night.”

Her cheeks turned pink as she sipped from her mug. “Pretty sure it was the other way around.”

Azriel’s grin widened. “Fair enough, I’ll take the blame.”

Elain sucked in her bottom lip, and Azriel was just about to say something when Asher blew a raspberry and Azriel got splattered with cereal, all over his face and his chest.

He slowly set down the bowl and the spoon before looking at his giggling infant and saying, “Thank you. Thank you, so much.”

Elain’s hands were covering her mouth as she laughed. “Go clean yourself, I’ll take over.”

Azriel couldn’t help but laugh at Asher’s joy, and as he stood up, he kissed Elain, softly, before she took her place in his chair and started to feed Asher.

Azriel had only just made it to the sink when there was a knock on the door. He blinked, then looked to the clock above the stove. It was only just after seven.

He wiped off his face, but when the knock came again, he was hurrying toward the door. After pulling on a pair of sweatpants that were hanging over the back of the couch, Azriel opened the door, and stilled.

Ianthe was there, in her jogging attire - which didn’t amount to much. When she saw Azriel, bare-chested and hair still a mess, a wide, feline grin spread across her lips. “Well, good morning, baby daddy.”

He gaped and finally said, “What are- Ianthe, what are you doing here?”

“I’m here for my baby. Where is he?” She tried to peek around him into the house, but he angled the door where only his entryway could be seen.

“It’s seven in the morning. On a Saturday.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the frame, becoming a veritable wall blocking her view.

“Well, we have plans this morning and I have to get him ready,” she said, taking another step up his porch stairs.

Before he could say anything, Asher’s happy giggle could be heard echoing through the house. And then Elain’s voice was floating towards him. “That’s not very nice, Asher. You can’t spit your breakfast on daddy and on me. No, you can’t. No, sir.”

Azriel had tensed and when he turned back to Ianthe, she had an eyebrow raised and her eyes were like ice. “Who’s that, daddy?”

“None of your concern,” Azriel said back, his voice calm. “And I have him until tonight. I’ll drop him off at six, like we agreed on.”

“Plans changed,” she snapped. “Now get my baby away from the whore or I’ll go in there and grab him myself.”

Azriel’s jaw locked as he stepped out onto the porch and shut the door quietly behind him. “Watch your tongue.”

“Or what?” she asked, intrigued. “What will you do, Az? As of right now, you have to do what I say, legally, and I’m telling you to get your pretty little ass inside, grab my son, and bring him to me so we’re not late.”

Azriel didn’t move.

Ianthe took a step toward him. “Or it’ll be awhile before I let you have him again. Understand?”

Azriel crossed his arms. “I don’t like threats.”

“Too bad,” she said. “I have the power, and you’ve already pissed me off by letting my son around that skank. As you’ve said, it’s seven on a Saturday morning. Now, why would a woman be in your kitchen so early?”

“Oh, fuck off. How many men have you been with this week alone, Ianthe?” The words came out of his mouth before he could think better of it. He pressed on before she could bite back. “Nothing in our agreement stipulated that I wasn’t allowed to be in a relationship.”

“Consider it added now,” she said, a wicked smile on her face, pulling her phone from her leggings, the gods knew where there was room. She typed out a quick text message and Azriel stared at her, in absolute shock.

He breathed, “You vindictive bitch.”

She smiled up at him again and was about to say something else that was meant to wound him, but he gripped her wrist with far too much gentleness considering the conversation, and turned it over.

Because that crazed look in her eye, it wasn’t only delight at fucking him over once again. There was a reason she was so chipper at seven on a Saturday morning.

The words were deathly soft. “Are you using again?”

Her arm was jerked from his grip before he could react. “Get your hands off of me. That’s none of your fucking concern.”

Azriel chuckled, humorlessly, as he shook his head. “You’re not taking him. You’re on a high, and you’re not taking him.”

“Don’t fu-.”

“You didn’t even drive here,” Azriel began, exasperated, his hands shaking from the pure anger radiating throughout his body. He looked behind her to find the street nearly empty, her car nowhere in sight. “What was your plan? Jog him on your hip back to your parents house? Fuck, Ianthe-.”

“Give me Asher.”

“No,” Azriel said, firmly. “I’ll drop him off, at your parents, at six tonight, so that I know he’s safe. And that was our agreement.” He’d have a talk with them, too, Ianthe’s parents.

Because he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Asher go with Ianthe. Not if she was back on drugs, not again. He would fight it, and if he lost his parenting rights in the process…

No, he wouldn’t let himself think that way, wouldn’t let his mind wander to the horrid, unfair possibilities. The world couldn’t be that cruel.

Then again. As a child, himself, the world was that cruel.

Ianthe hadn’t said another word. She stared at Azriel, venom igniting those teal eyes.

“Go home, Ianthe,” Azriel warned.

There was a small list of things he had expected her to do in response, but spitting in his face wasn’t one of them. His body tensed as her saliva smacked him in the face, right between his eyes. But then she was walking back down the porch steps, all while saying, “You made a big mistake, Azriel.”

He didn’t move, not until she was down the street, jogging around the corner.

Azriel stepped back into the house, heading straight for the kitchen sink. He took a paper towel off of the holder and wiped Ianthe’s spit off of his face. When he turned around, he froze.

Elain was sitting in the same chair, still in his t-shirt, and Asher was asleep in her arms. She was watching Azriel, though, her eyes full of concern.

All he said was, “Did you give him his bottle?”

She nodded. “Burped him, too.”

His smile was tired, but he said, “Thank you.” He sighed and let his head fall. “Elain, there’s something I have to do today, but I don’t think I can do it alone.” He swallowed hard. He’d never once taken anyone with him to meet with Helion, nor had he ever wanted to. But today, he needed someone there to steady him, to keep him grounded.

Because he’d never been so angry in his entire life. He’d seen red and couldn’t allow himself to do so, but the fact that Ianthe had actually intended to take their child while she was…

Elain stood, cradling his son as if he were the most precious gift, and walked to him. She took his hand in her free one. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

___

Rhysand had given Feyre a cup of coffee, but she couldn’t drink it. All she could think about was Tamlin, still lying on her couch. All through the night, it was all she could think about. No, she and Rhys hadn’t had sex, and every time they got a little too hot and heavy, she pushed him away and looked toward the doorway of her bedroom, thinking that Tamlin would be standing right there.

But he hadn’t moved, all night, and now that morning had come, she wanted him out of her fucking house.

“Do you want me to wake him up?” Rhysand asked, for the tenth time since they’d rolled out of her bed.

Feyre didn’t answer. She had told Rhys no so far, thinking that if Rhysand was to wake him up, there would be an instant fist fight, and that was no way to start a Saturday morning. So, instead, although she was unsure how it was any better, Feyre went to the cabinet by the sink and opened it up, retrieving a glass. After filling it up with water, she walked to the back of the couch and dumped it on Tamlin’s face.

With a shuddering gasp, Tamlin was sitting up and looking around. “What the fuck?”

“Time to go,” Feyre said, setting the glass down on the side table, with a little more force than necessary. He flinched at the sound, but she couldn’t find it in herself to feel bad about it.

He groaned as he leaned forward, water dripping from his hair.

She sighed and said, “Come on, Tam, I’m serious. I need you to leave.”

He narrowed his eyes, but didn’t say a word. He just stood and turned to leave, but when his eyes fell on Rhysand, he froze. “You always have to win.”

Rhysand rolled his eyes, but he remained silent. Feyre stared at the floor as she listened to his heavy footsteps walk through the foyer, and out the front door.

For a moment, the small townhouse remained silent, but then Feyre looked up to meet his gaze. “What did he mean by that?”

“I don’t know, Feyre-.”

“Bullshit!” she yelled, exasperated. She was annoyed, angry, and sleep-deprived. She didn’t have the time or patience to be dancing around the subject any longer. “I have to know what happened between you two, Rhys. I like you, I really do, a lot, but I can’t deal with secrets, not anymore.”

His lips snapped shut, and for a moment, she thought that he would tell her he didn’t want to, that he wasn’t in the mood, yet again, but then he sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Fine.”

As if she wasn’t expecting it, which she truly wasn’t, her body stilled. Then, before he could change his mind, she was slowly sitting in the chair next to him at the kitchen table. She didn’t push him, didn’t rush him, only sat perfectly still, her anger turning into nerves. The possibilities of what he was about to say had her stomach churning.

He took a deep breath and said, “I’ve known Tamlin pretty much my whole life. We went to the same elementary school, played on the same teams, and we were… we used to be friends.”

Shit. Feyre had known there was history, but she didn’t know it went that far back.

Rhys continued, “I don’t exactly remember when we had our falling out, but Tamlin’s dad was always pushing to be better, by using me as an example. He’d talk to my dad at work, find out how I was doing in my classes, and then he’d go home and berate Tam about how much better of a son I was.”

Tam. The familiarity of the nickname made Feyre’s heart hurt.

“In short, somewhere in middle school, he started to hate me, and I understood it,” Rhysand continued, shrugging. “His dad was an asshole, and he had to have someone else to blame it on. Considering I was a part of the equation, it made sense that it was me.”

There was something sad, something regretful in Rhysand’s eye, but Feyre didn’t question it. She remained quiet, and she listened.

“Anyway, middle school went by and then high school began,” Rhysand went on, staring at his intertwined hands. “We didn’t talk much, only when we had to. We’d drifted into our own groups of friends, found our own places where we belonged, even though we still played on all the same sport teams yet. Anyway, that’s just kind of how it was between us, at least for a while. Things were tense, but they were never bad, you know?” He didn’t wait for Feyre to answer before he went on. At this point, it was like he was talking mostly to himself. “Our junior year, my parents were out one night, coming home with my little sister from a dance recital. They got in an accident, and none of them made it out alive. My parents died instantly, having gotten hit head on. And my sister, who was only thirteen at the time, was in a coma for two days before they made me make the decision to pull her off of life support.”

His voice had become a deadly quiet, and Feyre couldn’t breathe. Rhysand wasn’t looking at her, he was still staring at his hands. His eyes had lined with silver, those tears nearly about to fall, but he only cleared his throat.

“It, uh,” he started, then shook his head, sending those tears that had held themselves in down his tanned cheeks. “It was Tamlin’s dad that had hit them. He was drunk, behind the wheel, and swerved in his lane, going way too fast, hitting my parents and my sister.”

Every thought in Feyre’s mind faded away. She had never met Tamlin’s dad, and Tamlin wouldn’t talk about it, only told her that his dad was gone. She didn’t understand, not yet, but as Rhysand went on, all the pieces came together.

“He hated me after that, blamed the fact that his dad was in prison for life on me,” Rhysand said, a humorless laugh loud in the quiet of the townhouse. “And I hated him for that. I hated him for blaming that shit on me, just because he needed someone to blame it on.”

Feyre stood, rounding her table and taking his hands in hers. She knelt in front of him.

“Rhys, I’m so sorry.”

He smiled at her, it was sad, but it was a smile nonetheless. “You have nothing to apologize for. You had every right to ask, I just… It’s a part of my life that’s still painful to open up. I’m glad Rayn doesn’t remember any of it, but that doesn’t mean we don’t miss our parents everyday.”

Feyre’s phone rang from the kitchen counter, and she glanced at it, but Rhysand said, “Go ahead, baby.”

She hurried to catch her phone before it was sent to voicemail, but when she saw her father’s name on the screen, she hesitated.

With a sigh, she answered, “Hello?”

“Feyre? Hi.” Isaac sounded far too cheery for such an hour. “Busy today?”

Feyre looked over at Rhysand, who was watching her with furrowed brows. “I’m...not sure. What’s up?”

“I was going to meet your sister for lunch. Was wondering if you’d like to join us?”

Feyre blinked. “Which sister?”

Isaac laughed quietly into the phone. “Nesta. Elain says she’s busy.”

Of course, I’d be the last one you call.

“I don’t know, dad, I-.”

“Come on,” Isaac begged, and the sincerity in his voice was overwhelming. “I haven’t seen you since I’ve been back in town. Hell, I haven't seen you in six months. It’s just lunch. To catch up.”

Feyre leaned back against the counter, nibbling on her bottom lip as Rhysand continued to watch her, intently.

“Okay,” Feyre breathed. “Fine. What time?”

“Nesta told me she’d be at the diner at noon, will that work for you?”

She nodded, regardless of the fact that he couldn’t see her. “Sure, dad, I’ll see you then.”

Isaac sighed, “Thank you, Feyre, dear.”

She cringed. She hated it when he called her Feyre, dear. It felt so...formal. “You’re welcome, bye.”

As soon as she hung up, she closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the cabinets, which gently banged with a soft thud! Feyre groaned. The last thing she wanted to do, especially after a night of little to no sleep, was go sit through a forty five minute cold shoulder contest between her father and eldest sister.

But then she smelled jasmine and nightshade and citrus, and she felt fingers skimming up the outside of her thigh. Rhys breathed, right by her ear, “Don’t tell me I took the day off of work for no reason.”

Feyre tilted her head down until her eyes met his. He lifted her up onto the counter, stepping in the space in between her legs. She let her arms drape around his neck and said, “I’m afraid so. I have to meet my dad and sister for lunch.”

“What time?” He asked, leaning down and pressing kisses to her jaw.

His fingers dug into her bare thigh, her shorts having ridden up. She said, “I’m meeting them at noon.”

He glanced over her shoulder at the clock on the microwave. “We’ve got about five hours, don’t we?”

Feyre groaned. “It’s that early? Why aren’t we in bed?”

Rhysand leaned back and met her gaze. “Are you inviting me back to bed?”

Feyre grinned, tilting her head as she pretended to think on it. “If you carry me there.”

Rhysand didn’t have to be told twice. He lifted her off the counter and slowly carried her up the stairs, his lips never parting from her skin. Feyre closed her eyes and dwelled in his touch, in the way the touch of his lips set her on fire.

Rhysand carried her back into her bedroom, where they’d spent their night tangled in each other’s arms, and dropped her on her mattress.

They kissed for a little while, but due to her night full of worry and anger, Rhysand didn’t pressure her for anything at all. Instead, he pulled her back into his arms and rubbed her back until she fell soundly, peacefully asleep.

_____

Lunch had been horrible, just as Nesta had expected it to be. Nothing too eventful happened, but it was horribly awkward. She got a free meal out of it, she supposed, so that was a plus; but, she was grateful that it would be another six months before her father asked her out to lunch again.

There had always been that pattern.

Nonetheless, it was over and done with and the day was still fairly young, which meant she got to spend it at Cassian’s.

His apartment was on the other side of town from the diner she had met her dad at, and by the time she had gotten there through the busy city, she had nearly lost her mind. She hoped Cassian had wine, and that he didn’t judge her too much for starting to drink so early in the day.

He’d given her a key, just in case he was asleep when she arrived back, as he’d claimed that the previous nights’ activities had completely exhausted him. He’d even said that without a nap, he’d have no energy to please his girlfriend all night again. She’d rolled her eyes and kissed him goodbye, before smacking him in the face with the pillow she’d been sleeping on.

True to his word, when Nesta called Cassian when she was about five minutes away, he hadn’t answered. She laughed quietly, debating on the ways she could wake him up. She parked and let herself into his apartment, careful not to let the door slam. But Cassian wasn’t sleeping.

A gentle melody floated through the apartment from down the hall. Nesta froze in the doorway as the music grew louder, and slipped off her shoes and put down her purse before quietly tip-toeing down the hall. He was in his office, across from his bedroom, facing the wall where a small, wooden piano sat. It was old, but finely tuned. He said it had belonged to his grandmother who was a music teacher for young students back in the day.

He constantly thought about getting a new one, but he’d always said there was something about the piano that made him love to play even more.

She couldn’t see his face, but she knew by the way his head was tossed back that his eyes were closed. He wore sweatpants and an old t-shirt, his hair tied up at the back of his head. He obviously hadn’t heard her come in, and she didn’t want to ruin the moment she’d caught him in.

As his fingers danced gracefully across the keys, Nesta leaned against the doorway and watched.

She closed her eyes, listening as the melody flowed around her. It made her heart want to dance, when so many things these days didn’t. Her soul felt like it could breathe and as she listened, she imagined the dance she would craft to his songs, the stories they could tell together.

Nesta hadn’t realized she was crying until she sniffled quietly and Cassian’s hands slowed and stopped on the ivory keys.

He looked over his shoulder, surprised to see her standing there, and hesitated when he saw she was crying. “What’s wrong? How long have you been standing there?”

He was up on his feet and walking toward her when she answered, “Long enough to get emotional, apparently. You play beautifully.”

His eyes softened as his arms wrapped around her and he kissed her, softly. “You used the key.”

She nodded, her forehead falling into his chest.

He was quiet for a moment before he said, “You should keep it.”

Nesta kept her head pressed into his chest as she stilled and said, “It’s… Cass, are you sure? You don’t think it’s too soon?”

He shrugged and she finally looked up at him. “I want to spend as much time with you as possible. If that means giving you a key so you can come see me, so be it.”

Nesta could feel her walls rising, could feel every instinct she had telling her to run, that it was too soon, that she couldn’t get attached. But regardless of all of that, regardless of the pit in her stomach, she nodded and said, “Okay.”

He could tense the tension in her body as he ran her hands down her arms. “You don’t have to always use it,” he followed. “Just when I’m lost in my music, or sleeping.” She chuckled and then he added, “Or, you know, when you miss me.”

She pushed back from his chest and lifted a brow. “And what makes you think that I ever miss you?”

He pulled her back toward him by her waist as he grinned. “Oh, you miss me. Judging by all the noises you were making last night-.”

She pushed him in the chest, trying to suppress her laughter as she did so.

[cxmetery-gates]

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS - DARK!TOM HIDDLESTON

CHAPTER SIX: PICKUP TRUCK THOUGHTS

SUMMARY: Lynn takes a moment of solitude to put things into perspective, all thanks to a friend’s truck and some clouds. WORD COUNT: 2.8k NOTE: Not me falling of the face of the internet for a couple months. Whoops! WARNINGS: dark!tom hiddleston, teacher!tom hiddleston

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS MASTERLIST

"YOU REALIZE IT'S A SERIOUS problem at this point, right?"

"At least it's not crack."

The two familiar voices catch both mine and Gabe's attention. With the doors open, legs sprawled out wherever they're comfy, and some early 2000s alternative music jamming from the speakers, we genuinely look like high school delinquents. All we're missing is a cigarette hanging from our lips.

My back aches as I pry my upper half to sit up straight, a chorus of popping following my movement. I brightly grin at River and Ellie and my feet reach the black pavement. It appears Ellie just rolled her eyes at River's sassy remark. I begin to ask what they were talking about before I notice something being shoved back in the boy's backpack: his new Obi-Wan Kenobi lightsaber. Part of me isn't surprised, but the other half is wondering what reason he has to carry it around at school. Regardless of the reason, we all have our quirks: it took me until the eighth grade to leave my replica of Harry Potter's wand at home.

Geeky things, I guess?

I can only guess what River was telling Ellie when it comes to his devotion to Star Wars. There isn't an existing number to count how often River and I find ourselves on the topic of space battles and the Skywalkers.

"What's up, friendos?" I ask as they draw closer. A sudden chilly breeze lifts my hair and bumps along my skin. It's almost a frustrating sensation, it being the middle of August. It looks like I'm the only one who feels it, as my teeth are the only ones that chatter. Since my arms are tightly holding each other, I barely have time to react to Ellie's next reaction.

Ellie drags her feet dramatically until she goes limp in my arms. "I wanna go home and sleep."

I stumble back at the weight added, wriggling my arms to hold her steady. The last thing I need on the first day of school is a concussion. "Christ— well maybe if you get off, we can take you home."

River piles his backpack into the back of Gabe's truck, the loud thump startling Ellie, and looks at us with a confused stare. "Weren't– Weren't we supposed to hang out today?"

The girl in my arms rises to her feet, groaning. "Shit, I forgot. My mom said she wants me back home after school as soon as possible. You know, groundings and all."

"Next time, don't get into an accident." Gabe sends her a smirk.

Ellie narrows her eyes and mocks his response, crossing her arms and leaning on one leg. A small chortle parts my lips as I lean up against the truck next to River. After her bickering, Ellie continues. "Go get ice cream or something in my memory. I just have to get back before I'm killed, which should be any day now."

"I call your funeral playlist," I reply. Looking up while my fingers stroke my chin comically, I add, "A ton of 80s pop with a dash of Gaga?"

Booping my nose, Ellie smiles. "You know me too well."

We all file into Gabe's small truck— well, almost all of us. Since the truck is a three-seater and police like to patrol this area, there is always a sacrifice who gets to claim the back of the car. This time, it happens to be me. Once I was lying flat on my back, a blue tarp was pulled over my body, coming right above my nose. Oh, the perks of old, short pick-up trucks roaming a town with endless police...

Sliding open the window, Gabe's voice calls out. "You good back there?"

"Yeah, I'm fucking peachy," I reply.

There's the sound of laughter before the engine kicks on. At that moment, my paranoia starts to kick in, starting with my heart beating fast in my chest and palms getting sweaty. Not once have any of us gotten caught, but I can't help but think the day we are, it's my ass going to jail. I've never bothered to look at the laws relating to seat belts in other states, but here, the law is highly enforced. Not only would I get fined and definitely put into a cell, but I have no doubt Gabe would endure the same fate.

Nice way to put yourself in one of these states, I chastise myself.

I almost groan, but I can't be sure if I'll cause one of the friends up front to worry. So, I exhale and inhale rhythmically like I was taught. Looking straight ahead, all I can see are blue skies and puffy white clouds. Occasionally, a tree or two will enter the scenery. I'm barely blinking as I try to put shapes to the clouds, some more impossible than others. Despite having an imaginative mind, the figures aren't creating a picture for me to follow.

I like to remember how easy it was as a child to create something out of nothing. An empty napkin roll wasn't just cardboard; it was a telescope that needed color. Our dolls weren't acting on our behalf; they were doing it themselves and showing us their lives. Every cloud wasn't just a random array of water droplets but rather, a visual story to be told. I want to know what causes all of us to lose that form of innocence. Ways of thinking like pessimism or optimism, that's easy: once too many shitty things start to happen more than the good, one is likely to form a biased view or vice versa. But, why do we stop playing with imaginary friends? Or act out intense battles on the playground? Even the smallest blip of innocence, like cloud-watching, becomes warped.

Sometimes, it's easy to pick out that moment in our own lives where we find ourselves becoming grown-ups and leaving childhood behind, but the shitty part is that it isn't just me or Ellie, River, or Gabe who go through trials. It's not just the kid who loses a parent or the girl who was taken advantage of. Everyone has their wars. And in the end, we lose, becoming a part of the system that inflicts these damages.

These damages I speak of tear us apart. They mold us into shapes beyond recognition. No longer a funny shape or a distorted animal in the sky, but dark, heavy, and so close to bursting. And when we finally let go, after all the waiting and rolling, we seem to explode, leaking and oozing our pain, our torment, us. And when it's over? What's left? I guess there are two options: remain on the ground to seep into further nothingness, or rise once more, only to break again, again, and again. But life is such torment and full of trials, is it not?

Funny how staring at a cloud can put life into perspective.

My brain is overrun by these thoughts that I don't even realize Gabe's truck is rolling to a stop. I finally take notice when car doors swing open then shut.

"Wake up, sleeping beauty," River says leaning over the side of the truck to get a look at me.

Rolling my eyes with a grin, I swat at his shoulder, which misses as he recoils. "Shut up, loser." I sit up, tossing the tarp to the side as I move to stand. River smirks and offers his hands to help me down. Without hesitation I take them, swinging one leg over the side and the other following before I made a short leap to the ground. Because neither of us apparently can avoid embarrassment, we're both holding each other's hands after I land. A rosy blush spreads across his entire face— no doubt mine as well— before I take the initiative to lean backwards, focusing on Ellie who crawls from the side door.

"Speaking of losers," Gabe sighs. I can't help but feel the reddening in my cheeks, assuming this asshole is talking about River and me, but I notice he's looking at Ellie, now swinging her backpack around one shoulder in her driveway.

She notices that all of us are looking, causing her to freeze. "Why does everyone hate me today?"

I smile bringing her into a goofy hug. "We just miss you. Don't get into any more accidents, please?"

"Yeah, yeah," she snorts, hugging me back to the best of her ability, considering I have her arms pinned down at an odd angle. "Alright, leave my driveway before I actually get you guys killed."

Gabe, River, and I say our goodbyes before filing into the white truck, heading God-knows-where as a worn-down engine sparks to life. Looking over at River, who sits to my right in the passenger seat, I send him a glare that he doesn't see since his eyes are focused on what lies beyond the window— or lack thereof.

While his hair barely covers his neck, mine flows down to my mid-back, meaning having windows rolled all the way down and speeding down a highway won't lead to the best outcomes for my hair. But I can't complain too much: River's hair going crazy in the wind is both cute and a bit funny. A small smile graces my features before a thin lock of hair enters my lips.

Glancing over at the driver, I notice how only locks of hair toward the ends move slowly despite the windows rolled all the way down, as if the strands are wearing a shield against the wind. I wonder how Gabriel keeps his hair so still before making the dumbfounding realization that he wears that beanie 24/7 and who knows how long he goes without washing his perfect hair. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen the boy without the hat. I guarantee no one would recognize him without it.

"So, where are we heading?" Gabriel asks when we reach the stoplight before entering the populated part of town.

I exhale, leaning my head on the headrest of the seat. "Well, I for one could go for something frozen. Maybe a burger, too."

"Didn't you just eat lunch?" River asks, humorously smiling in my direction.

"And had coffee literally less than an hour ago," Gabe adds.

Sending a blank look to River (whose smile widens) then over to Gabe, his eyes never leaving the stretch of road ahead of him (at least one person in the group can do that), I huff, my eyes shutting closed and I bring my shoulders up into a shrug. "I don't know what you both have against me and my food and drink consumption, but you better knock it off."

There's a small hum of laughter to my right, sending a slight shiver down my neck. "If we left you alone for a week, there's no telling how much you'd put in your system," River tells me as if I don't know that already.

"Yeah, yeah. Alright, Bob and Jillian, I don't need you to berate me."

══════════════════

Twenty minutes later, the three of us find ourselves outside a burger joint. In one hand, I have a burger waiting to be devoured and in the other is a frozen strawberry lemonade. Nothing says summer like this combination. We're sitting the parking lot eating our meals, more specifically in the back of the truck. From my phone, I have a playlist plainly called "Chill" playing from the nearly-blown speakers.

"I never thought food could taste so good," I moan as the burger slides down my throat.

"You're acting like you haven't eaten in a week."

Sending Gabe an eye-roll, I reply, "It might as well have been."

There's a moment of silence before River brings up a topic not discussed in a couple weeks. "Do you guys wanna come over and jam for a bit sometime this week? We haven't done anything in a while."

One summer a few years back, the trio of us learned we can play different instruments. I have been playing the guitar and drums since I was younger, thanks to a musically gifted grandfather. Gabe and River both had a knack for guitar too, though Gabe had more experience with the bass guitar and River had some training with piano. While our jam sessions are nothing too serious, as none of us want to be in a band or write our own songs, it's become a fun and stress-reducing way to hang out when silence would otherwise fill the atmosphere. The last time, we figured out how to play the theme songs of our favorite movies using a ukulele and bongos. It was something I didn't need to hear, but I'm glad I did.

I nod my head. "Yeah, we can this weekend if we aren't being drowned in homework by that point."

Gabe also agrees with a nod, his mouth full of fries. "It's a maybe from me: Mom might need to borrow the truck since hers is wearing down."

River turns his dark brown eyes over to me, capturing an embarrassing scene as lettuce pokes between my stuffed lips. Great. "Well, I guess I can hang out with you if someone can't show."

While I playfully punch his arm, I send a look over to Gabe who hides a smirk in his straw. He catches me looking as River goes on about one of his classes. Sending me a wink, I narrow my eyes knowingly: his mom just got a brand new truck. Mr. Matchmaker goes back to this food, making a statement on how hot River's finance teacher is, causing the boy to make a very uncomfortable face.

Despite the long talks we shared in the back of Gabe's truck, I find myself zoning out hardcore once again. I can't figure out why exactly my mind had wondered, but I do know where. My thoughts go back to Trinity's face, remembering how she would sit next to me against the side of the truck the very few times she decided to make time for my friends. There's a ghost of warmth in my palm like fingers squeezing when the short snippet of a memory expels from deep inside my mind. I don't know why I thought of it. It just appeared, causing a droplet of woe to fill my gut.

Like my friends have told me before, I need to let this go. There's no use in holding on to something, or rather someone who isn't coming back, especially someone who was never good for me in the first place. Glancing up, I spy on River munching and talking with Gabe. A blush covers my cheeks when I remember how utterly embarrassing it was when I broke down in front of him over a stupid girl. He told me there are worse things to worry about.

"Like climate change?" I asked, sniffling into a pillow. I hope he washed it after that encounter. Hell, he needed to lysol everything down after my mopey ass walked through the place.

River smiled warmly at me, pulling me into a giant bear hug. Sometimes, I want to ask for one of those hugs again. "I was going to say people who like pineapple on pizza, but climate change is also a concern."

I remember crying not a second later, but that was due to the thought of polar bears facing extinction.

Contrary to knowing how wonderful my three best friends are, I'm also aware that there are certain things I can't share. I don't want to overbear them with my problems that should have been solved months ago. The fact that I'm still getting small flashbacks and thoughts of her is pathetic, and I'm aware of that fact. On the other hand, it isn't like my group of friends will give up and leave if I spill my guts, right? I shouldn't be scared of expression my thoughts, feelings, and emotions to my closest friends. And yet, here I sit, undecided on what to do.

Christ, do I need to get my priorities straight.

When my eyes break away from their trance, all I see is Gabe and River entering a heated discussion, about what I'm not sure. With my thoughts still in a bit of limbo, I'm shocked back to reality when they both leap from either side of the vehicle, rushing to pull items from their bags.

Under any other normal circumstance, it would be concerning to see two dudes arguing one moment then reaching into their bags the next. I'm willing to bet the next logical calculation for a stranger would have been to get away, fearing the queue for guns or knives. But I know these losers. Even if they are fighting or wanting to kill each other, there is only one way they can settle their differences.

"Soon, you will see the way of the Jedi," River exclaims while thrashing his blue lightsaber through the air.

"Shut the fuck up, you nerd!" Gabe flicks out a red lightsaber, taunting the other.

"Oh, my God," I say with no emotion in my tone, watching as red and blue shamelessly slash at each other in battery-produced light in a burger joint parking lot.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

TAGLIST:

@khadineberry​​

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE TAGGED, LET ME KNOW!

[kinktae]

bitchin’ || pt. 3 (M)

↳ PART OF MY REWIND SERIES

The 80s were a time of choices. Which perm was right for you? What color neon would you wear next? None of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with Jeon Jungkook.

pairing: fratboy!jungkook x reader

word count: 6.4k

genre: 1980s au, eventual smut, e2l

warnings: multiple smut scenes, science talk, banter, jealousy, alcohol & LOTS of colorful 80s slang lmao

A/N: This fic was inspired by To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before & Stranger Things 3. Thank you to @junqkook for letting me use her likeness and @httpjeon for editing this chapter!

OFFICIAL PLAYLIST

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

PART THREE

"You're a psychopath." You accused.

Jungkook let out a scoff, eyes rolling in dismissal.

"You're being dramatic."

"Stop the car."

"Y/N." Jungkook scolded, reaching over to turn down the radio's volume.

"I'm serious, asshole. Let me out!" You huffed before lowering your eyes into small slits. "You're probably driving me off to a remote location just so you can kill me. Bet you're just like that sicko Ted Bundy that they got locked up in Florida right now."

Jungkook's head snapped over to look at you, disbelief in his wide eyes.

"Holy shit, all I did was change the radio station!"

You flashed him an exasperated look.

"You changed it while Wham! was playing. What is wrong with you?"

Jungkook had shown up at the door of your dorm right on time, grinning lopsidedly in his yellow windbreaker as you opened the door, his blatant eagerness effectively souring your mood.

You were entirely against this date at first; it hardly seemed necessary to get to know someone who you already knew you had nothing in common with. Not to mention the fact that you seemed to be the only one who cared that this relationship between you two was literally fake.

If it weren't for Yara physically shoving you out the door, you would have never gotten into Jungkook's ridiculously nice Chevy as he hauled off you to wherever he had decided your date was. He refused to answer when you asked him where the two of you were headed so, needless to say, you were already on high alert.

Him changing the station as soon as Everything She Wants playing was the final straw.

"Nothing is wrong with me, dweeb. I just don't really like their sound. I don't really like a lot of artists on the radio nowadays." Jungkook confessed, shoulders shrugging as he kept his eyes on the road.

"Oh God. I'm fake dating a monster." You breathed dramatically.

Jungkook rolled his eyes, no longer in the mood to entertain this conversation as he turned the knob on the radio back up.

It proved to be in vain, however, as your stubborn self refused to let the conversation drop there, your own hand reached over to reverse what he had just accomplished– the song currently playing fading back into the dull background.

"Madonna." You pressed.

"What about her?" Jungkook droned unenthusiastically.

You furrowed your eyebrows, annoyed. "What do you think about her?"

"Oh. Industry sellout."

"What?!" You nearly shrieked, jaw dropped as you stared at Jungkook's cool expression. You let out a disappointed noise.

"Cyndi Lauper?"

"Mediocre at best."

"Duran Duran?!" You exclaimed. "Wait, no. Don't answer that, I don't think my heart could take it if you didn't like them."

Jungkook chuckled, glancing over at your distraught expression, "Duran Duran is okay."

"Just okay?" You marveled, crossing your arms over your chest.

You were wearing a patterned collar shirt today and when Jungkook first laid his eyes on it, he couldn't help but think it looked exactly like the carpet belonging to the arcade he and friends used to go to in high school. On your left wrist was a bright yellow scrunchie that he swore he saw Yara wear once.

He wondered for a moment what it might look like in your hair.

"You know what the problem is with music today? It's all synthesized, I mean you can hardly call it music." Jungkook continued, pushing his previous thought away. "What's that song by The Buggles?"

"Uh... Video Killed the Radio Star?" You offered.

"Yes! God, that song just barfs me out." He shuttered, a prominent frown on his face.

"Fine, then. What do you consider real music then?"

"Hm, let's see. Twisted Sister, Bon Jovi, Van Halen, Def Leppard–"

"Oh, I see. The meathead is also a metalhead." You mused, the sides of your mouth twitching up slightly.

"Can you headbang to Prince? I don't think so." The meathead in question offered cheekily, wagging a finger at you.

You had just opened your mouth to quip back when your surroundings suddenly dawned on you; Jungkook had pulled into the parking lot of what you recognized to be a roller rink.

"We're going roller skating?" You asked as the boy shifted into park, causing him to look up at you.

"You don't sound excited." He pointed out.

You didn't bother to confirm or deny his accusation.

"Weren't roller rinks considered cool in the 70s... when we were kids?" Was your response.

Jungkook had unbuckled himself from his seat, reaching over into the back of his car to grab his backpack, carefully lugging the brown bag over his shoulder.

"They're still cool. Man, quit being such a downer you're ruining our date." He warned.

"Hey! What did we say, this isn't a date. It's a bonding activity." You piped up, opening the passenger door. "Besides, I'm not being a downer, I just…"

Your sentence trailed off as the two of you hopped out of the car, excited chatter from a family parked nearby filling your ears.

"You just what?" Jungkook pressed as the two of you made your way over.

"Nevermind."

There was a cold rush of air that hit you as Jungkook pulled open the door to the building, causing you to cross your arms over your chest, following him into the dimly lit space.

You could make out the sound of Take on Me by a-ha playing overhead from where you could see the actual rink located in the back. From the looks of it, the arena appeared to be somewhat empty today.

Radical. Fewer people to embarrass yourself in front of.

"Where do we go now?"

"To get our skates, duh." Jungkook stated, flashing you a look. "Haven't you ever been to a roller rink?"

You didn't get the chance to respond to the condescending boy because before you knew it, your hand was intertwined with his and you were being lugged over to where a bored-looking man was waiting behind a desk, a wall of worn-out beige skates behind him.

You stood beside Jungkook awkwardly as he spoke to the employee, speaking up only to protest when Jungkook tried to pay for you and to tell the roller rink man what size skates you needed.

Sat on a nearby bench, the two of you began to change shoes; Jungkook was rambling on and on about how excited he was to skate and how he was gonna lap you ten times over.

Slipping your first foot into the wheeled shoe, you let out a sigh.

"I have to, uh, tell you something..." You began, capturing Jungkook's attention.

"Sure, what's up?"

Pressing your lips together, you laced up the skate, the neon green shoelace glowing under the room's fluorescent lighting.

"So… I never actually... learned how to roller skate." You confessed through a shrug, ignoring the way Jungkook looked at you in surprise.

"Man, you really were robbed of a childhood. And here I thought you were some kind of superhuman who could do anything."

"Firstly, don't question my superiority over you common folk. I am superhuman." You scolded, pushing a finger into his chest playfully.

Jungkook let out a laugh, rolling his eyes at your words.

"Secondly, I mean, we were a family of six. If I got rollerskates, then everyone had to get roller skates. We just didn't have that kind of money." You explained.

"Woah. Family of six, huh? So you have siblings then." He noted.

"Yep. Three."

"Tell me about them."

Looking up from where you were slipping on your second skate, you met Jungkook's eyes, surprised to see genuine interest in them.

"Well… Sammy is the oldest. He moved out when I was, like, thirteen so we were never that close but I see him every time I go back home."

You had finished fastening both skates, placing each wheeled foot on the colorful carpet. You took a moment to drag your legs front and back, enjoying the way the wheels rolled beneath you.

"Then there's the twins, Rosa and Lia."

"Hold on. Twins? Wait… did they go to our high school?" Jungkook asked, his interest in this conversation doubled.

"Yep. They were two grades above us." You confirmed.

"Oh shit, yeah, I remember your sisters, they were mad hot." Jungkook let out a low whistle, before stiffening, flashing you an apologetic look. "Uh, in a totally non-meathead way."

You offered the scared-looking boy a small smile, shaking your head.

"No, it's okay. They are pretty, um, hot, I guess."

Suddenly, you made an effort to stand up, and Jungkook jumped to his feet to help you— you waved him off, of course. The carpet provided enough grip to allow you to walk somewhat easily.

"I still can't believe the Y/L/N Twins had a little sister. And that little sister was in my grade. How come no one ever talked about you?" Jungkook asked as the two of you reached the rink.

You gripped onto the short wall that lay along the rink's entire perimeter, clearly meant for people like you to hold onto so that they wouldn't bust their asses.

"Some kids in our grade asked me if we were related but I would always lie and tell them we weren't. Honestly, I had this weird complex towards them. I hated them for a little while."

Jungkook wasn't expecting such a confession to come from you, and it was clear that you weren't either with the way your face turned away from his, twisting up in regret.

"Really? Why's that?" He asked despite himself.

You felt yourself perk up as the familiar tune of a Duran Duran song came on, lifting your mood immediately.

"It's– ah, nevermind, it was really stupid. I don't feel that way anymore." You waved him off through a laugh, not wanting to unload onto him the heaviness of your childhood insecurities.

"I don't care if it's stupid, you can tell me. I want to know."

You stare at him for a moment, unsure of whether or not to tell him. There was a sense of sincerity in his eyes that wore you down, however. You let out a sigh.

"I dunno, I think it started early on. They were older and there were two of them, so I was kind of the third wheel."

"Ah. Yeah, isn't there some special bond only twins have?" Jungkook added.

"Yeah… Yeah, I understand it now that I'm older, but when I was younger, it just pissed me off." You chuckled bitterly, eyes flickering towards a couple skating around in the ring.

"It wasn't until I entered high school that I actually started to resent them, though. I kind of got stuck in this ugly duckling phase and my sisters… they're beautiful, right? Popular with boys, lots of friends…"

You trailed off, eyebrows furrowing as an unwanted feeling of reminiscence crept into you.

"I liked learning. And I was good at it. And it wasn't like I didn't have friends. I made friends with people who liked the same things I did. I wasn't alone." You continued, Jungkook's eyes glued to your profile.

"My friends used to beg for me to come over and study with them, you know." You looked over at the messy-haired boy, a shy grin on your face.

"It felt really good for people to acknowledge the hard work I put into school. It made me feel... cool, I guess."

"So when people asked about my sisters, I lied. Because I thought if I told them, then they would see everything that I wasn't. They would have something to compare me to and they would see that I actually wasn't that cool."

Your face fell into an unreadable expression, your knuckles turning white as your grip on the wall tightened.

The only person who ever knew you had felt this way about your sisters and yourself was Yara. But Jungkook wasn't Yara. He was just a boy in high school who occasionally bumped into you in the hallways, never paying any mind to where he was going.

Hesitantly, you turned towards him, only to find him already looking at you. Suddenly, a wave of embarrassment washed over you.

"I told you it was dumb." You laughed nervously.

It wasn't that you cared much what Jungkook thought but you had a feeling a guy like him, who was popular and carefree, wouldn't be able to sympathize in the way you would like him to.

"No, I'm just… surprised, that's all."

Jungkook certainly was surprised. You had built up quite the impression on him from the very moment you two met. It was hard to imagine that the girl who was so unapologetically herself was ever unsure or insecure.

Somehow, the idea tugged at his heart, as if he understood you more if only just a little.

Entering the rink, Jungkook skated in smoothly, looking as laid back and natural as always. You raised an eyebrow, doubting that your entrance would be that seamless.

"Feet shoulder-width apart. Keep your knees slightly bent."

Realizing these were instructions, you frowned, walking over to the rink's entrance.

And sure as day, your first step onto the shiny wooden floor was a less of a step and more of a slip, your hands reaching out to grip onto the wall before your balance was completely thrown off.

Jungkook took his bottom lip into his mouth, trying his hardest to swallow down the chuckle that threatened to escape. Instead of laughing at your instability, however, he skated towards you, an amused glint behind his eyes.

"Don't be scared, I'll catch you if you fall."

You offered him a glare, "Thanks, meathead, but I don't plan on falling."

Mustering up your strength, you pushed yourself off the wall, taking a bold step forward. You hadn't wobbled more than two steps when you once again lost your balance, arms flailing around wildly as you tried to prevent yourself from toppling over.

Your feet slipped from underneath you, however, sending you flying backward. Before you could hit the ground though, a pair of arms found you, hoisting you up by the waist as your legs lay sprawled in front of you.

"C'mon now, stand up." Jungkook urged, causing you to let out a shaky breath. You thought your ass was grass for sure that time.

"Can't. It's useless. Just let go, Jungkook. I'll crawl my way off the rink." You shook your head.

Your savior laughed, "New plan. Hold onto me. We'll do a lap around the rink together until you can skate on your own."

Embarrassed, you agreed, carefully making your way back up into a standing position with Jungkook's help.

It certainly wasn't smooth. There was something incredibly unnatural about rollerskating; Jungkook had told you to pretend like you were a duck which only confused you more because not only were you not a duck but you hardly understand the logic behind his thinking as ducks, most certainly, did not know how to roller skate.

With hands wrapped around Jungkook's bicep, however, you found yourself making your first lap. There was one other couple on the rink skating alongside the two of you; they were young— probably still in high school, and you wondered for a moment if to them Jungkook and you actually looked like a real couple.

"What's your major? I just realized I never asked." You brought up casually, the song overhead coming to an end. Lights were hanging that projected down onto the wooden floor, moving around in tempo with the upbeat music that was playing.

If you could actually skate, you imagined this must be loads of fun.

"Exercise science." He told you.

You nodded, "Makes sense."

It was evident that Jungkook took good care of himself, even if you weren't holding onto his bicep, you'd be able to tell.

"What's yours?" He countered. "Biology?"

"Yep. I really wanted to major in Neuroscience but my scholarship wouldn't cover it."

"Oh, you're on a scholarship?"

"Yeah, it's how I'm paying for college, actually. My dad made it pretty clear early on that he wasn't paying for our college tuition." You explained.

"Could you guys not afford it?"

"Mm, well yeah money was a big part of it but he also doesn't really see the value in a college degree. He got a job without one. That's why I worked so hard in school. I knew I had to do well if I had any chance of getting into college—"

Your sentence fell flat as a loud yelp fell from you, stunned as you realized you had just slipped and fallen onto your ass.

Jungkook was doubled over in laughter, your shocked expression far too funny to hold back his amusement this time.

"What the hell! You said you would catch me!" You gaped, the sides of your mouth quirking up at the sound of Jungkook laughing harder, desperate gasps of air breaking through his giggles.

"Quit laughing, pea brain. I'll seriously dump your ass right here and right now if you don't help me back up."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He snickered before moving over to help you up, his eyes watery and smile wide.

"This is so embarrassing…" You muttered under your breath, feeling unstable like a newborn deer.

Another chuckle found Jungkook, finding the way you were pouting sourly just too cute.

"If my ass bruises I'm going to be seriously pissed." You declared stubbornly, before intertwining your hand into Jungkook's.

Jungkook knew you were only doing so to ensure your balance but something about the gesture had his chest tightening in a way he didn't understand.

"So, uh, your siblings! They're all out of high school, right? What do they do?" Jungkook started suddenly, in an attempt to sway his thoughts.

You were humming along to whatever song was filling the room and Jungkook wished he was familiar with the tune so that he could hum along with you.

"Oh, Rosa is an intern for our hometown's newspaper but between you and me those assholes don't even let her write. She does coffee and burger runs for men in charge. And Lia sells ice cream at the mall."

"What about your brother?" Jungkook asked.

"He's training to be a cop just like my dad."

"And your mom?"

"She works at a convenience store."

And so the rest of the evening played out, the two of you sharing pleasantries and learning about one another, with only a few more falls on your part.

Jungkook told you his story, how he was an only child to a set of lawyer parents that let him do whatever he wanted as compensation for being so busy all the time. You bit your tongue but it made sense, considering his behavior in high school. Still, Jungkook turned out alright, you thought. Contract or not, you wouldn't willingly spend an evening falling on your ass with someone who wasn't at least a decent person.

You and Jungkook were sat at a table at the roller rink, a box of cheesy pizza set out in front of you.

"I don't understand. If you love film so much, then why aren't you majoring in it?"

"I don't know if I'm even any good at it. Just because I have a camera and like to use it doesn't make me a director." Jungkook shrugged in response.

"No, but if it makes you happy, then that's all that matters. If you love something and it inspires you then why wouldn't you do everything within your power to go after it?"

You had that look on you again. The kind of look that made Jungkook think that if he were to lean in close, he could see flames ablaze behind your eyes. It was the kind of look at sent his curiosity and admiration for you soaring.

"Isn't that lame? A guy majoring in the arts?" He asked, sounding uncertain.

You let out a grunt, growing frustrated with Jungkook's placid nature.

"What's lame is that anyone should have to be ashamed for doing what they love. Do you know how many times I get asked, 'Why biology? Why not education?' by my male professors? Fuck what anyone else thinks Jungkook! Do what makes you happy." You declared with a clenched fist, eyes glimmering with fervor.

You had gotten so worked up, Jungkook realized; he knew right then and there that you were speaking from the heart and that he was a lucky man to get to see you this way. Even if you had begun to shout and were scaring him slightly.

Turning away from you, the cool-headed boy ran his eyes over the room's walls, pausing only when he found a neon clock perched along one of them.

"What's wrong?" You wondered, following his eyes.

"October 16th, 1985. 6:48PM."

"Yes. That's today's date and time. What about it?" You pressed, growing confused.

"Remember it." He warned.

"Why?"

"It's when I fell in love with you."

Suddenly, you let out a laugh— it was the kind that comes out unexpectedly and makes a loud, unattractive noise and it surprised you both. Your hand clamped down over your mouth as if on impulse before your shocked expression broke, a cascade of giggles washed over you. Jungkook could only stare at you in bewildered awe, wondering if that wasn't the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Jungkook shifted back up on the bed, his back having grown sore. Pulling his notebook closer, he gripped his pen. Somewhere in the background, he could hear you muttering to yourself as you worked at your desk, knees pulled up to your chest where your chin could rest on top of them.

The two of you were doing homework in your dorm room, a common occurrence for the two of you nowadays.

Jungkook let himself spare you a glance from where he sat on your bed. You had thrown your hair up into a lazy bun earlier on, but now it would seem it that you had once again let your hair down.

You had the end of your pencil tucked between your lips, captivating Jungkook's attention for longer than he had intended.

Jungkook wasn't sure if it was safe to say that you were friends, mainly because of the contract that was holding the two of you together, but seeing as you two now spent nearly every afternoon together, he couldn't help but think he had whittled you down into tolerating him.

Not that you'd ever admit that, of course.

You let out an audible sigh, whatever task you were working on clearly giving you trouble as you tapped the end of your pencil against your bottom lip contemplatively.

"Break?" Jungkook called out lazily, tearing his eyes off from your lips.

Jungkook watched as you stared down at your textbook for a moment before ultimately swiveling your chair around to face him.

"Yeah, okay." You agreed, lugging yourself off your chair only to hop onto your bed, causing Jungkook to bounce slightly, the springs of your mattress protesting.

Face scrunching up, you brought your legs up onto the bed, extending them out in front of you to stretch out your stiff joints.

Jungkook couldn't help but grin slightly as your foot brushed against his knee. You were wearing your favorite pair of socks – they were a bright red and fluffy, a cartoon picture of Santa Claus knitted into each. Jungkook nearly lost a lung the first time he saw you wear them, but you were quick to defend them, saying that keeping your feet warm was always in season.

"I still can't believe you bought Christmas socks. It's not even Halloween." He began in an effort to make conversation. You rolled your eyes, smacking the side of your foot against his knee lightly.

"You act like I was actively searching to buy Christmas socks. I was on the hunt for fluffy socks and these just happened to be the fluffiest pair the store offered." You defended.

"I would gladly wear Halloween socks if I found fluffy ones." You added, bringing your offensive socks back over to you as you sat cross-legged.

"Speaking of Halloween," Jungkook began, eyeing you cautiously, "the party is in three days."

Cocking your head to the side, you contemplated today's date before concluding that the sweater-clad boy was correct.

"Oh shit."

"We need—"

"— costumes, yeah." You cut Jungkook off, nodding.

Jungkook blinked as he took in your words before shaking his head.

"No, I meant—"

"Yara suggested Bonnie and Clyde or Danny and Sandy from Grease but I don't really know how I feel about a couple's costume. Doesn't that seem too obvious like 'Hey, look at us! We're totally banging!' Do you know what I mean? Also, can we not just dress up as whatever we want to? Can couples really not do anything without each other? I remember whenever I showed up to a party without Erik, everyone would ask about him and why he didn't come. He didn't go because I didn't invite him, morons." You finished with an irritated huff.

"Woah, hold on... you went to parties?" Jungkook marveled, halting your ramble. "Also, who the hell is Erik?"

"My ex-boyfriend. And yes I went to parties. I was in a lot of school clubs and they threw parties sometimes." You shrugged.

"Oh. Nevermind, I thought you meant actual parties."

"Fuck you, asshole. Those were actual parties!" A surprised laugh tumbled out of you. "Anyway, we can go costume shopping tomorrow if you're free–"

"Y/N." Jungkook interrupted, a stern look on his face. You shut your once open mouth, flashing him a cautious look as you offered him your full attention.

"I'm going to kiss you."

Your body tensed in surprise, eyes going wide, "What?"

"At this party. I'm going to kiss you, remember?"

"Oh... Oh!" Your eyebrows raised as his words sunk in.

"Yeah." Jungkook nodded, reaching over to shut his notebook that was now going unused. He wasn't in the mood to study anymore.

"Okay, then. Lay it on me."

"Huh?"

"Kiss me now. Like a bandaid. C'mon, meathead, rip that sucker off." You ordered authoritatively, causing Jungkook to shake his head.

You certainly know how to set the mood.

"Fine." Jungkook mused dryly.

Your composure crumbled, however, as the handsome boy began to lean forward, eyes fixated on your lips.

"Wait!" You blurted, throwing your hands in front of you to halt Jungkook from coming any closer.

"What?" Jungkook pressed, looking slightly irritated.

"No... No, I'm just... I think I'm nervous." You blinked.

At your words, Jungkook's expression noticeably softened. You had this look on your face that he had never seen you wear before. You usually carried yourself with such self-assurance and confidence, but this version of you that was sitting in front of Jungkook... this you looked vulnerable.

"Why are you nervous?" He cooed.

"Because!" You huffed, not noticing the way Jungkook's eyes were set on yours gently. "I dunno, it's just... it's you I'm kissing."

"Is that a bad thing?" He asked.

A silent moment ticked past as you failed to respond immediately.

"...No."

"You hesitated." He glared, tone falling flatly.

"Well, I don't know! Who knows where that mouth has been?!" You accused, pointing a finger towards him. He smacked away your finger easily, a frown finding his face.

"Y/N."

"Sorry, sorry! I get mean when I feel threatened, it's like my defense mechanism." You apologized.

Jungkook chuckled, enjoying the inner turmoil you were clearly going through.

"Close your eyes."

You frowned at his words, knowing what doing so would entail.

"You're overthinking this. It's just a kiss. I don't bite, I promise." He teased cheesily.

You held his eyes for a moment. If there was anything you could give Jungkook credit for was the way he made even the most astronomically complex subject seem so simple, as if you were silly for even fretting over it in the first place.

Taking comfort in that thought, you let your eyes fall shut, hands finding purchase around the duvet you sat on.

You felt the mattress shift, your weight shifting forward as Jungkook moved closer, causing your heart to pound.

And then, he kissed you.

The kiss couldn't have lasted longer than a second, and you hardly had time to register the feeling before the sound of the mattress groaning as Jungkook shifting back into his original spot rang out.

You opened your eyes.

"Oh." You breathed.

"See? Was that as bad as you thought it would be?" Jungkook mused.

"You were right. I don't know why I had hyped this moment so much in my head." You shook your head, laughing lightly despite the way your heart had yet to calm down.

"Told ya."

You nodded, "I mean if anything that was super underwhelming."

"Yeah, like— Hey, hold on. I know it was just a peck but you don't have to phrase it like that, damn." Jungkook's eyebrows furrowed.

"No, it's a good thing!" You tried to reassure him, uncrossing your legs. "I think one of the reasons I was so nervous was because I was afraid the kiss was gonna be good but, nope! Totally ordinary!"

Jungkook let out a low hum. He knew what you meant but there was still something within him that couldn't help but feel bitter. He knew you would accredit it to what you liked to call his 'raging man pride' – whatever it was, it had him pouting without him even knowing.

"That offended you." You observed easily.

"No, it didn't." He brushed off.

"Yes it did, I can see it on your face. I've thrown your fragile man ego off balance and now you're insecure over your kissing abilities." You offered him a sympathetic look.

"Woah, woah, woah. You didn't do any of the sorts because my man ego isn't that easily toppled over, okay? I've got a rock-solid foundation, thank you very much." He scoffed defensively causing you to snort.

"And for your information, I can't be offended because it wasn't like I actually kissed you so suck on that."

You frowned on his words, "What do you mean you didn't actually kiss me?"

"Y/N, please. If I had kissed you like how I usually do it would've knocked you dead." He insisted, nose sticking up in a way that reminded you of Yara.

"What the hell? Why didn't you kiss me you usually do?" You replied sharply, catching Jungkook off guard.

"Uh..."

"Isn't that the whole point of this?" You continued, hand reaching over to flick at the tip of Jungkook's nose.

You held your glare as he flinched in surprise. A scowl took over him.

"What the hell was that for?! I didn't think–"

"I don't want to embarrass myself on Saturday. I need to make sure I know what I'm doing so don't half-ass things! Kiss me like you would your real girlfriend, dumbass!" You scolded, hand reaching over to place another attack against the boy's nose.

Before you got the chance, however, Jungkook's hand came up and wrapped itself around your wrist, stopping you. You attempted to pull back your trapped hand but Jungkook's grip was unforgiving, his dark stare locked onto you.

"What are you doing? Let go." You huffed.

"God, how am I meant to kiss you if you won't shut up."

You hardly had time to register his words when the hand around your wrist was used to yank you forward, Jungkook's mouth finding yours once again.

You were absolutely caught off guard, eyes held open in shock until the moment his other hand found your face, palm cupping your jaw as his fingers pressed into the bone softly, urging your head to tilt to meet his kiss better.

The hand that Jungkook still kept captive curled itself into a fist as you struggled to reciprocate his pace, taken off guard by his sudden vigor.

His lips were softer than you expected and you prayed that the hand that held your cheek wouldn't be able to feel the way your face was burning. The second he finally let go of your hands, you were quick to find purchase on the back of his shirt, gripping the fabric in hopes to give yourself something to hold onto as you lost yourself to the way your shared breaths filled the room every time your lips separated only to meet again immediately.

It wasn't until Jungkook's tongue ran against your bottom lip that reason finally took ahold of you. Pressing back against Jungkook's chest, you broke the passionate exchange, your wide eyes meeting his hazy ones.

"Something wrong?" He breathed heavily, his tongue darting out briefly to wet his bottom lip. The sight causes something in you to stir, so you turn your head to the side, choosing to stare at the wall across the room instead.

"N-Nothing. Just… I need to catch my breath is all." You lied.

It was more than that. This was precisely what you were afraid of. The kiss was good and it was making it very, very hard to want to continue keeping Jungkook at a respectable distance. You really didn't hate the kid and maybe if the circumstances were different the two of you would've gone on to be actual friends but you knew exactly how this was going to end. Jungkook and Kiri would get back together, you'd get your event and as much as you'd like to think Jungkook and you could continue on hanging out like this, you knew that was impossible. There was no way you could face Kiri after all this – not when you were the girl who was meant to be dating Jungkook all this time. You had helped him deceive her; watching and supporting Jungkook through a relationship built on lies was not exactly on your to-do list.

"Can I give you a hickey?"

Jungkook's words pulled you from your thoughts.

"Huh?" You replied, intelligently. That had been the absolute last thing you had been expecting to leave Jungkook's mouth.

"I know it's sometimes seen as a possessive thing so I, like, get why you wouldn't want one but it would definitely get the message across to everyone. If you're down, of course."

You could feel the urge to say no rise up your throat. Jungkook was right, hickeys seemed like a display of ownership – just a primitive way to claim someone as yours as if the emotional commitment wasn't enough. But there was something in the back of your head that was reasoning that he had a point. Furthermore, you could almost imagine the way Yara would be insisting you follow through with it if she were here right now and not in class.

God, she was going to lose her mind when you told her what had just gone down between you and Jungkook in your dorm room.

"Sure."

"Really?"

Jungkook's eyes were doe-like and you found it hard to face them.

"Y-Yeah, whatever, I don't care." You shrugged, hoping to give off an air of nonchalance.

"Wicked." He grinned boyishly, a hand coming down to push against your torso.

Your back met the bed and you didn't even have time to voice your confusion before Jungkook climbed over you, silencing your thoughts.

"Just easier this way." He told you, as if able to read your mind.

You feel yourself tense up as his lips meet your neck, pressing a cautionary kiss there.

"You don't have to be so stiff, I'll try to make it feel good." Jungkook leaned over to coo into your ear, causing a shiver to run over you.

You nodded, relaxing yourself the best you could as you tilted your head over to expose more of your neck to the awaiting boy.

You bit down on your lip, fighting down the sigh that threatened to spill from your mouth as Jungkook began to pepper kisses onto your neck, the feeling surprisingly pleasant. Your chest was rising and falling rhythmically, trying hold in your heart that threatened to leap out of it.

The feeling of Jungkook's tongue on your skin caused a small squeak to leave you, Jungkook taking the sensitive skin into his mouth to sucking at it. Before you could even think to stop yourself, one of your hands intertwined itself into his hair, tugging at it lightly as you felt his teeth scrape against your skin. To your disbelief, Jungkook let out a low grunt, sucking at your skin harder as if in retaliation. The noise echoed against your skin and, embarrassingly, you felt your nipples harden against the cup of your bra, a clear indication that you were getting aroused.

Shit. You were totally getting turned on; you could hardly thread together a single coherent thought and your whole body felt hot.

You tugged at Jungkook's scalp again without thinking and another noise of content left the curly-haired boy's mouth; you nearly threw out a sound of your own as he licked a hot stripe against the afflicted skin.

Before things could escalate any further, however, Jungkook pulled away from your neck, moving back to sit on his heels, his chest rising and falling unevenly.

"There. That should do it." He breathed out.

You sent him a small nod, eyes unable to pull away from the mouth that was just on you.

To say Jungkook's man ego was now pleased as hell would be an understatement. Your face was twisted in embarrassment, eyes watery and unable to meet Jungkook's the longer he stared. The left side of your neck had patches of pretty pink bruises etched into it and he couldn't deny the sick way his chest swelled with pride at knowing you would be wearing the marks he put on you.

"What?" You mumbled shyly, unable to stay still under his stare for much longer.

Jungkook was silent for a moment, lost in the dangerous thoughts his mind was filled with as he looked at the way you were laid out in front of him.

Finally, he shook his head as if to clear his mind.

"Nothing. Just admiring my work." He grinned sweetly before leaning over to press a chaste kiss onto your forehead, leaving you a hundred degrees warmer than you originally were.

[thebluenoteblog]

A Mother’s Love

*Requested*

Summary: When you and Colton get into an argument over some furniture for the nursery, some words are said that can’t be taken back.

Player: Colton Parayko

Word Count: 2.6k

You leaned back against the couch, with a pile of old books spread out in front of you. You were halfway torn between admiring them and wondering how you were going to get up off the floor when you inevitably had to pee. In your mind, that registered as a problem for future you, albeit a very near future you, but future you nonetheless.

You leaned forward and picked up a large yellow book. It was your favorite when you were a little girl. Your father used to read you bedtime stories out of it when he made it home in time, and you would get so excited every time he pulled out this exact book.

You’d been so excited when your mother showed up on your front porch with a laundry basket full of your childhood books. You’d grown up loving the pictures and the words and you wanted the little girl growing inside of you to have that same experience. The idea that she would be inspired by the same pages that inspired you brought tears to your eyes. You blamed the hormones.

You blinked them back when you heard a key turn in the lock of the front door soon followed by it pushing open. You looked up to meet Colton’s eyes. You smiled at him, “Look what my mom found,” You said. “She saved them all these years for my kids. Now here we are.”

Your boyfriend of two years scanned his eyes over the piles of books spread out across the floor. “That’s really cool babe.” He said, then he turned to head into the kitchen, “But where are you going to put them?”

You furrowed your eyebrows at his back as he disappeared around the corner. “What do you mean? I’ll put them on the bookshelf you ordered for the nursery. It should be ready any day now, right?” He didn’t say anything, but you could hear the sound of bottles moving around in the refrigerator. “You ordered the bookshelf, right Colton?”

He reappeared in the entryway of the living room with a Gatorade in his hand and leaned against the doorframe. “I guess I forgot. I’ve been really busy.”

You attempted to push yourself up off the floor, really not appreciating the power dynamic you were about to create by arguing with a six-foot six man while sitting on the floor. He rushed over to you, placed his bottle on the coffee table and bent over to help you up. He slid his hands under your arms and essentially lifted you to your feet and while you didn’t need that much help, the thought was appreciated.

The lack of thought behind him forgetting to order the one thing you’d asked him to order for your daughter’s nursery, however, that was not appreciated. Even on your feet, you were over a foot shorter than Colton, but damn if you didn’t know that there was something to be said about a pissed off pregnant woman giving you the look of death. “You’ve been busy?” You asked him, “If you’re too busy to order a bookshelf, how are you going to be a dad?”

There were those hormones again. Irrational? Maybe a little. Was there a damn thing you could do to stop yourself? No.

He blinked at you a few times, like he was running your words through his brain. First, he looked hurt, then he looked angry. “Are you saying that I’m going to be a bad dad?”

There was two years’ worth of resentment that you didn’t even know existed bottled up in your voice when you snapped back, “I’m saying that hockey is always going to come first for you. The game, the team, then your family. We get whatever scraps are left over. That’s why you forgot about the bookshelf. It isn’t the first time you’ve forgotten something important and it won’t be the last.”

“Damn it, (Y/N).” He said, taking a step closer to you. You were about as close as your twenty-five-week belly would allow you to be, “You knew what my life was like when you met me.”

“Yeah, I guess I thought you would make your baby a little more of a priority,” You said, hands on your hips and head held high. You had decided the moment you found out you were having a girl that you would be the best role model you could be. You would be the woman you needed when you were a girl. That meant standing your ground, even when it hurt. That meant making sure her dad knew that she should be his priority.

Colton’s next words came without hesitation, leaving his mouth so quickly that there was no chance he’d had time to think about them before he had said them. “I didn’t even want this baby!”

You could have heard a pin drop in the resounding silence that followed his comment. You placed your hand over your belly, over your daughter, who you already knew you would do anything in the world to protect, and you backed a step away from him. Then another. You shook your head as tears sprang to your eyes.

He reached out a hand for you, “(Y/N)-,”

“Shut up.” You said, continuing to shake your head as though if you shook it hard enough you could shake the past minute out of your head. “Just shut up.”

He pressed his lips together but didn’t drop his hand, tentatively reaching out to place it on your arm which was crossed protectively over your belly. You jerked away from him and looked up at him with horrified eyes. He opened his mouth, presumably to say something along the lines of, I didn’t mean it, or I swear I want her now. The thing was, it didn’t matter. He did mean it. His words had been to quick, to harsh and if he wanted her now, he never would have said it.

You turned, stepping around all the books and headed up the stairs. He followed closely at your heal. “(Y/N), please stop.” He begged as you made it to the top of the stairs. You passed the nursery and slammed the door closed, as the thundering sound reverberated through the house Colton flinched. “Please listen to me.”

You made it to the master bedroom and when he attempted to follow you through the door, he was met with the second thundering slam of the night. This time right in his face. It was closely followed by the sound of a lock turning. He tried the handle a few times and then pounded on the door three times before allowing his head to fall against it. He slid to the floor and groaned. “(Y/N), please let me in. I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. I feel horrible. Please let me see you.”

On the other side of the door, you did your best to tune him out as you shoved clothes into your duffel bag. You grabbed your laptop off the bedside table where you’d left it the night before and put it on the top, threw in a few chargers, zipped up the bag then threw open the door.

Colton tumbled over but caught himself halfway to the floor, then quickly climbed to his feet. His eyes immediately landed on the bag on your shoulder. They widened and his face turned pink. “Where are you going?” He asked, his hands twitching at his sides like he was contemplating trying to stop you but thought better of it.

“I don’t know.” You answered, “Why do you care. It solves your problems, doesn’t it?” You asked, readjusting the bag on your shoulder and his eyes shifted to it, staring like he couldn’t decide if he should carry it for you or not.

“That isn’t fair and you know it.” He said and his voice was choked. He was right. It wasn’t fair. And you didn’t want to leave. Not when he was a day into a week and a half long home stretch. You didn’t want to give up that time with him. You didn’t want to give up the time that he had off between practices or falling asleep in bed with him at night and waking up next to him in the morning.

But you weren’t doing this for you. You were doing this for your daughter who deserved to have a father who understood how valuable she was. If he wanted to screw you over until kingdom come, so be it. But it would be a cold day in hell before you let him make your daughter feel like she wasn’t wanted.

“Goodbye Colton,” You said softly, no anger left in your voice as you turned and headed down the stairs.

He stood frozen in place for a second, attempting to process what had just happened. Did you leave him for good? Were you ever coming back? He regained use of his limbs and chased you down (which wasn’t very difficult given you were at the stage in your pregnancy where walking was gradually becoming a chore). He ran in front of you and you paused to keep from running into him. You craned your neck to look at his face, “Yes?” You asked.

“Are-,” He swallowed and cleared his throat, squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them and tried again, “Do you plan on coming home?”

You gave him a small smile, a bit of reassurance because no matter how furious you were with him in the moment, you loved him. You loved him more than you thought you knew how to love anything or anyone in the world until you heard your daughter’s heartbeat for the first time. “Of course, I’ll come home. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Then you stepped around him and within a minute he was watching your car disappear down the street.

****

He ordered the damn bookshelf. One of the custom-built ones from a mom and pop shop, just like you wanted. He paid extra for them to get it done as soon as they could. He would have sucked the old man’s dick if it meant you came home to that god damned bookshelf in the nursery where it belonged.

He finished painting the walls, because he’d been failing there too. You’d gone out and bought the paint a month ago and he’d only painted half a wall. You brought it up a few times, but it was always the same answer, “I’ll get to it soon.”

He put together the crib you’d ordered, and the changing table. He hung pictures and shelves on the wall. The room still didn’t look complete, so he went out and bought a rocking chair and fit it into the corner of the room.

Finally, the bookshelf was delivered. It was mounted to the wall to make it baby safe, and then he filled it with all of your books that he had yet to pick up off the living room floor.

When he finally finished the nursery, five days had passed. He hadn’t slept worth a damn. He’d played the last two games like shit and gotten the biggest ass chewing of his career from Chief over it.

It wasn’t like he could tell anyone why he was playing like garbage and half asleep at the rink at practice every day. Instead he just took it, went home and prayed that you were waiting for him when he got there. For five days you weren’t.

Then on the sixth day, he pulled into the garage so out of it that he didn’t even notice the car parked beside him until he got out, stood up and turned. His heart skipped, and he’d never made it so quickly from the garage into the house in his life. “(Y/N)?” He called out as he closed the door behind him.

“I’m on the couch,” You called back.

He was in the living room in a half a second, sitting down on the couch beside you and pulling you into his arms. “God, I missed you.” He said.

“I missed you too,” you said, wrapping your arms around him.

He pulled back and placed his hands on your face. “I am so sorry, (Y/N). I-… what you said hurt me. It hurt a lot and I was afraid you were right. It scared me.”

“Colton…”

“No. You have to listen to me. I do want this baby. I love her just as much as you do and I’ll be a great dad. Sometimes hockey will have to come first because that’s the way it is and that fucking sucks, but when she needs me I will always be there, and she will always know that.”

You smiled at him, “All I want is for her to know that her parents would do anything in the world for her.”

“I promise she’ll have that,” he said. He rose to his feet and held out his hands to help her stand. “Come here, I want to show you something.”

You took his hands and he helped you stand, then held on to one of them all the way up the stairs as he guided you the nursery door. It appeared to still be closed from when you had slammed it the night you left. He walked in front of you so that he was blocking the door and said, “Close your eyes.”

You gave him a confused side eye, but then did as he said. You closed them and heard the door open, then he was behind you with his hands on your waist guiding you into the room. “Okay, open.”

You did as he instructed and instantly tears sprang to your eyes, because, well… hormones. You covered your mouth with your hand and scanned the room. The walls we no longer white, they were a pale shade of pink. The crib was put together, there was a rug on the floor, a rocking chair in the corner, and a changing table and a dresser against the wall. The closet was open, and you could see all of the onesies that had previously been sitting in a laundry basket were now hanging up.

The best part? The bookshelf. How he’d gotten it made so quickly you didn’t know, but it was there and full of your books and a few new ones. He saw you eying the bookshelf and he said, “I bought some more books. The shelf looked a little empty and those are some I remember having when I was a kid.”

You turned to face him, “When… when did you have time to do all of this?”

He laughed a little, more of a sad, self-deprecating laugh than an amused one, “I haven’t been sleeping much.”

“Well that explains a lot,” you said as you turned and walked to the crib and ran your hand over the sheet.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, his placing a hand on his hip, then he shook his head, “Never mind, I know what it means. Please don’t say it.”

You looked up at him and smiled, “This is amazing, babe.”

He took a few tentative steps towards you, “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

You closed the distance, as much of it as you could with your belly in the way and placed your hands on his face. You pulled him down for a kiss as you rose up on your toes. When you broke apart you said, “I could never stay mad at you.”

[quicksiilver]

In My Father’s Eyes

A new series!

Summary:  An amateur New York City artist in her freshman year of college is journeying through life alone without a mother or father.  At nineteen she’s been through more than anyone older than forty could say.  Passionate about her art and her best friend, she finds one late night at work begins the story of her path to becoming the savior of many worlds.  Unexpected news of her family strikes her hard, but a new potential love interest with shared life experience eases the pain.

Part One: The Artist

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: I’ve been writing this for some time now.. It’s not on any specific timeline, but if I had to place it it’d be as if Infinity War and Endgame never happened.  First time I’m posting a fic! Enjoy!

It was midnight on Saturday in New York City.  The bar I worked in religiously was getting ready to shut down for the night, the second bartender and my best friend Shaun and I getting started on our closing tasks.  We were on a street corner in the heart of Manhattan and we were always slammed, but tonight was unusually quiet.

Squatting down behind the bar I started stacking clean cups as Shaun wiped down the counter top.

“Pretty weird tonight, huh?” He asked.  Glancing to him and his shaggy blonde hair I nodded.

“In my years of working here I’ve never seen a night like this,” I sighed standing to my feet hurrying around the bar to turn off our lit up ‘open’ sign in the window.  Just as I got to it two men came in the door letting it violently swing shut behind them.  Slowly lowering my hand from the light switch Shaun gave me a sarcastic pout making me smile.

“Hello, gentlemen,” Shaun greeted them happily, setting up coasters in front of their chairs.  Both men had disciplined looks upon their faces as they spoke to one another.  The dark haired man with odd glasses on his face gave Shaun a subtle wave as they took off their coats and sat down.

“I’ll give you guys a minute,” Shaun nodded and took a step back.  I met him behind the bar and we both went into the kitchen.

“Just when I thought we’d be outta here kinda early tonight,” I groaned rubbing my hands over my eyes, “I’ve got such a busy day tomorrow, and it’s my only day off this week.”

“I got them, don’t worry,” Shaun shrugged his shoulders, “Why don’t you head out of here, shut off that sign and go home?” He turned to start scooping some ice into a bucket to take out to the men, and shot me a look over his shoulder raising an eyebrow.  I just watched him for a second before shaking my head.

“Are you sure?” I asked sweetly, feeling a tad guilty.

“Yeah,” He said with a smile, “I know you’ve got school stuff to deal with.  I got them,” He said again playfully, making it more clear to me.  I gave him a nod and a smile.  He returned it and then went to work taking the ice out to the guys ready to take their order.  Peeking around the corner of the kitchen I looked at the guys curiously.  They looked important and spoke secretively to one another, nearly on each others laps but not in a gay way.  One was dark and brooding, and the other seemed jockey and poised.  Neither were dressed as if they were people of importance, but they sure gave off the vibe they were.  The man in the glasses glanced up at me.  We held eye contact for only a moment before I felt a chill down my spine and the urge to turn away.  When I looked back Shaun was making their drinks and caught a look at me.

“Rachel,” He said sternly with a smile, “Go home,” He said at a whisper.  Sighing, I smiled, and uncomfortably made my way around the men at the bar to finish cleaning the place up.  I went around the place stacking the chairs on top the tables, making sure our menus were in the right places and switched off the sign in the window feeling eyes on me every now and then.  As I came around the counter for the last time so I could clock out at the monitor on the bar, I made eye contact with the other man and slightly stumbled over my feet.  He had soft eyes, and dirty blonde hair that fell perfectly on his head.  He had a polite poise to him, yet gave off a strong energy of raw man.  He was gorgeous.  His eyes were familiar, however, as if I had seen them before.  When I finished at the monitor I gave Shaun a quick hug, grabbed my keys and took myself home.

Midnight streets of the city used to scare me as a kid.  My friends used to tell me stories in school of homeless people who would turn into zombies once the clocks hit twelve, or how dangerous things get, especially once it’s dark out.  The stories would scare me so bad I ended up sleeping in my mom’s bed most of my childhood.  It was just her and I growing up, the two of us in a crappy apartment here in Manhattan.  She had me when she was young, only nineteen years old, but she made it work when she wasn’t in any trouble.  I adored her and loved her more than anything.  As a young child before I was in school we spent a lot of time outside walking the streets of the city or playing in Central Park.  Walking around the trees with flowers on them was my favorite place to be.  I can remember spring time and how we would go collect the flowers and put them around the apartment.  Sometimes we would lay down on the grass looking up into the sky and she’d pick petals off the flowers setting them on my nose or forehead.  She’d tell me stories, mainly fairytales, of far away places and magical beings.  I was obsessed with her rendition of The Little Mermaid.

She was great to me, we were best friends, but at the end of the day she was terribly messed up.  As soon as I was old enough to walk to and from school alone I would come home and she’d be passed out either on the couch or our bed.  Alcohol was her choice of poison.  The first time I found her I was seven years old.  I can remember putting a blanket on her and kissing her cheek saying goodnight as I went on to do my homework and eat Cheetos for dinner.

Around eleven it was mainly me in the apartment.  My mom went through a constant cycle of getting sober, then falling back in, then getting sober again.  I did my best to help her through it all while getting myself through middle school.  She had a job, she was a waitress at a diner for many years and it was her working there that gave me some experience for the bar.  The other women who worked there never seemed to mind if I sat there for hours waiting for my mom to finish a shift.  They would check up on me, bring me mac and cheese and sometimes desserts if I drew them a few nice pictures on the paper placemats.

When I was thirteen I started doing anything to make a buck.  Seeing an empty fridge and my mom struggling to pay our bills really forced me to grow up, fast.  I was taking out garbage for the tenants in our building for three dollars a bag, and babysitting anyone for five dollars an hour.  I tried to sell some of my moms drinks she had in our fridge, but I quickly learned that wasn’t a great idea.  I was a brand new teenager experiencing change alone when I should’ve had my mother there to help me.

By sixteen she was dragging.  It had become visibly clear to me that I no longer had a mother and that I was taking care of her instead of her taking care of me.  I got my full time job at the bar on the corner cleaning dishes, and she was stealing some of my money.  Confronting her about it was never an answer, and if I did she would break down.

I was seventeen when she died, and it broke me.  To grow up and watch someone you love fall apart in front of your eyes is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.  Walking into your home after a night of work to your mother on your kitchen floor.  She was thirty-six.  She didn’t get to see me graduate high school, she wasn’t here to watch me get accepted into a community college here in Manhattan, and she won’t be here for anything else.

Now at nineteen, the age she had me, I work full time at the bar doing everything.  I’m in my second semester of college studying art, something I’ve always loved, and I’m keeping myself on my feet in the apartment.  I swore to myself that day two years ago that I would never pick up a drink, and that will forever be something I stand by.

Pushing the building's gate open, I fought to close it because of how rusty it was and jiggled my keys around searching for the one for the front door.  I got myself inside and then started up the stairs taking them two at a time to reach the third floor.  I could hear music coming from my neighbors and a strong smell of marijuana which never fazed me, that's been normal since I can remember.

I locked my door behind me with my key and then slid the safety lock shut.  Kicking my shoes off at the door I took a deep breath and tossed my keys onto the table by the door.  I made my way into the living room, turned on the tiny tv and then turned into the kitchen to search the fridge for something to eat.

Settling for leftover cold pasta, I tore off the lid of the Tupperware and flopped onto my ancient couch.

The New York City news was going on about its upcoming spring festivals and I couldn’t help but feel excited for them.  I normally kept to myself now, but the few friends I have were into a lot of the things I was.  Shaun, who‘s my age, goes to the same school and is an English major, and two of our other friends, Jessica and Elliot, are art majors with me.  They’re a year older than Shaun and I.  All three of them still live home with their parents, and they’re all well informed with my situation and have been nothing but supportive.  This time of year we loved going out to parks and spending time in between our classes outside.  I couldn’t wait to be out in a green, grassy area drawing one of my friends as they posed for me.

My eyes were falling in love with the shots of flowers the news was showing that when my phone rang I didn’t even look away.

“Hello?” I answered distractedly.

“Rach!” It was Shaun.

“Hey, you seem a little too happy.”

“You know those two guys?  That came in?” He spoke quickly.

“Yes,” I answered and shoved two cold noodles into my mouth.

“They were... well I’m pretty sure that they were those guys?  You know the ones that did the whole thing?” He fumbled on every last word.

“Shaun... what!” I laughed audibly, adjusting myself in my seat.

“Avengers! Rach! Avengers!” Shaun shouted and I froze.  Avengers was a word the public hadn’t heard in years, at least me since I was in school.  New York City nearly went to shit years prior, but thanks to them we managed to bounce back, and even the last time they were big in the news the city could’ve been wiped out again.  I was thankful to still have my mom around during that time, and that none of my friends' families were affected.  It still amazed me we lived in a world where these people were real.

“Shaun... what?” I repeated my words in disbelief.

“Rachel, I swear.  The guy with the short dark hair and glasses? Tony Stark.  Iron Man,” He paused and I could hear a door shut and keys jingle.  He was just now leaving the bar, “And the other guy? Captain America!” He said proud of himself.  An image of the blonde guy at the bar popped into my brain and I nearly choked on a noodle.

“You good?” Shaun asked as I coughed.

“Yeah,” I said quietly once I could speak, “I’m just... holy crap!” My stomach did a flip.  Kids in school would brag about meeting an Avenger, some would even go as far as to pretend they had powers themselves and that they were one of them.  Shaun was a huge Avengers fan.  It was never in my lucky stars to meet an Avenger and I just so happened to be in the presence of two of them tonight.

“Ya know, I knew they seemed important,” I said shaking my head looking back to my tv screen, “Did you see the way they were talking?  Do you think something is going on?” I asked Shaun who gave me a simple answer back.

“Who knows, anything could happen.”

“True, remember the attack a few years ago? Who saw that coming,” I rolled my eyes.

“I’m sure Cap did,” Shaun said confidently.  I could hear the smug smile on his face.

“Shaun, do you love the man?” I asked, both of us laughing.

“Maybe I do!” He scoffed, “Something the matter with that?”

“Not at all,” I said, “Get home safely please.  Can we talk tomorrow?”

“Of course we can,” He said.

“Okay,” I smiled then felt butterflies in my stomach once I remembered the men at the bar, “We saw Avengers!” I nearly screeched and Shaun laughed.  We cheered a bit more before saying goodnight and hanging up.

I cleaned up my spot in the living room heading into my bedroom.  Pulling my work clothes off of me, I tossed them to the floor beside a laundry basket that was nearing its limit, and walked into the bathroom meeting my reflection in the mirror.  My tired blue eyes were staring back.  Rubbing my fingers under them a few times I groaned at how dark the circles looked against my pale skin.  Turning on and leaning over the sink, I scooped some cold water in my hands and splashed it over my face looking back up into the mirror.

There was a long day ahead of me tomorrow.  Two projects are due next week by Friday and tomorrow is my only day off from working down at the bar.

I reached for a hair tie on the counter and pulled my dark hair into a bun on top of my head with a sigh.

After brushing my teeth and washing my face properly I turned back into my room, pulled a sweatshirt over my head and rolled onto my mattress burying myself in all the pillows I had come to collect over my nineteen years of life and fell asleep.

Thunder shook my apartment and I jolted awake, springing straight up in bed.  Lighting as bright as day struck the sky and soon after was another clap of dangerously loud thunder.  Muffled voices came from the living room, and after another rumble of thunder the voices turned into screams.

“Mama?” I called out, feeling my stomach start to flip.  I could hear her scream again as if she was shouting to someone else inside with her.  Swinging my legs over the side of the bed I jumped to the floor, my purple nightgown hanging below my knees.  My nails and toenails were painted pink and I had a temporary tattoo of Blues Clues on my arm.  My room continued the shake and the lightning kept striking.  I heard the wind outside pick up, the whistling coming through the windows.  Peeking out of one of them all I could see was the darkness of the sky and the tops of a few buildings, but no rain.  I wasn’t tall enough to see down to the ground yet.

“Mama?” I called out again, a bit louder this time getting closer to the closed door.

“Rachel,” She shouted, “Go to sleep!” Her voice was broken, she sounded like she was in trouble.  My stomach flipped again and I felt my heartbeat pick up.  If she was in trouble I wasn’t going to go back to sleep.  She taught me that if I was ever in trouble that I should call 911 and answer their questions.  I knew all of my information and everything about my mom.  I lifted a hand and turned the doorknob.  The phone was on the counter in the kitchen.  The bedroom door creaked open slowly and I looked out into the living room but didn’t see anything.  Taking two more steps out I found the phone on the counter with my eyes and felt proud.  I was going to make it.  As I was running for it, I looked toward the front door and saw my mom sitting on the floor against the door with her hands and legs locked up in a metal band that looked like they were shaped like snakes.  She was crying and she looked like she was hurt, she was bleeding on her face and her arms.  I slowed my running.

“Mama?” I pouted reaching a hand toward her.  The room fell silent and it seemed as if the entire world did too.  The thunder and lightning stopped, and so did the wind.  The noises that caused my mom and I to shout had all gone away.  I froze and watched her and she shook her head quickly side to side and cried.

“Rachel, go,” She begged, agony in her voice, “Go, go, go.”

“No,” A deep, gravely voice spoke.  Slowly looking beside her I found a man so tall he looked like he wouldn’t fit inside of our doorway.  It was dark so it was hard to figure out what he looked like, but it almost looked as if his skin was blue.

“Rachel,” He spoke again, coming closer to me.  My small feet walked me backwards as he came toward me, backing me against the living room wall.

“Baby, run!” My mother screamed, but before I could take off a large blue hand was grabbing onto me and picking me up.  I let out a piercing shriek at his cold touch and continued to scream the longer his icy hands held me in the air.

Suddenly I sat up in bed to the sound of my phone alarm going off beside me with a gasp.  Fumbling around for it, I shut it off and flopped back onto my pillows taking a long deep breath.  It wasn’t the first time I had dreamt something up like that.  As a kid my mother always told me how active of an imagination I had.  She influenced me to get into art by telling me to write about these dreams and draw pictures of what I saw.  There’s two notepads full of pictures of men and women like the man I just saw in that dream somewhere buried in my school things.  Elementary school teachers would scold my mom for letting me tell my stories and share with the other kids, but she allowed me to express myself and taught me to not be afraid of who I was, and I’m thankful for that because I live by it to this day.  I refuse to shrink myself for another human being which automatically didn’t make me too popular in high school.

Picking my phone up I swiped open to my messages between Shaun and I and told him about the dream.  Setting my phone back down I waited patiently for the ding and lifted it back up once I got it.

S: You haven’t had a dream like this in a few years.. right?!

I started to type a response, but he double texted me and read my mind.

R: Since my

S: Since your mom passed right?!

I deleted the words and nodded to myself.

R: Yeah.  I think it’s just me being stressed over this semester ending.

S: That seems fair enough?

R: It does.....

There was a moment before he texted back.

S: .....but?

I laughed at how well he knew me.  He knew more was coming.

R: ....but I would only dream these dreams whenever she got bad.

S: How old were you in the dream?

I paused and tried to remember the things that I saw.  The nail polish, the tattoo, the Little Mermaid nightgown.

R: Probably eight.

S: Right... and that’s when you were becoming more independent right? You were walking yourself to school and she was... starting to go through a rougher time.

R: You’re right.

A minute passed before either of us said anything.  Then we both sent a message at the same time.

R: What time do you work today?

S: You okay??

I laughed to myself and sent him a thumbs up.

S: Okay good...... and I open at 1 today.  It’s Sunday so it’s just me there.  You should swing by and hang out if you don’t work yourself too hard today!

R: Thanks Shaunyyy.  I probably will.

He sent me a heart and I smiled tossing my phone on the bed.  It was nine thirty and time for me to get started on this day.

Breakfast was the usual, an Eggos waffle in the microwave and a cup of almost burnt coffee because my pot was on the fritz.  I watched the news for a half hour to catch up on any life business I had the potential of missing, and then I showered and unpacked all of my art things on the kitchen table.  My paints were set out along with a few different sized canvases I had just bought after getting paid last Wednesday.  My two projects were simple.  One was for my color theory class, I needed to efficiently mix paint to create a proper color wheel with every color on there, and then add beside the wheel all the definitions to what each word meant.  This project being more than easy for me, I finished properly in almost an hour.  The second project, however, took me three.  It was for my regular painting class, and the assignment was to freestyle and create something that represented who we were as a person.

I scribbled for forty-five minutes on scrap paper trying to come up with a story about me and who I was and where I came from, but in the end I couldn’t see how anyone would find ‘Girl Grows Up Alone with Drunk Mother Who Dies and is Left More Alone’ interesting.  I was just another sob story everyone was tired of hearing.  I never even learned from my mother where we were from or how we ended up here.  It was just the two of us.  I never met any other family members.  I never even knew who my father was.  We never spoke about it, and I’ve kicked myself for it since she passed because I never asked her.

My eyes flickered between the blank canvas and the piece of paper I violated.  Grabbing the sheet I crumbled it in my hands, stood up from my chair and frustratedly threw the paper into the kitchen and watched as it bounced off a cabinet, onto the counter and rolled into the sink.  I got myself a glass of water and decided on a quick break to give my brain a rest.  Looking around the apartment sipping the cool water I let my mind wander.  I remembered the dream I had, and what I had said to Shaun.  It was clearly a stress dream.  Although, I thought, judging by the thoughts I had afterwards maybe it was a sign.  My mom influenced me to be an artist because of my dreams.  The dreams gave me an outlet, a different world to immerse myself in and create on a piece of paper.

I nearly dropped my glass on the floor.  Setting it down I hurried back to the table and began mixing some blue paint.  I was going to go back to my roots, where it started.  The visions that got me into art.

By the time I was finished I was more than proud.  My arms were covered in shades of white and blue, but I was happy.  My mind had traveled while I was mid-painting and the canvas turned into a world I had never seen before.  The people were from my dreams, but the world and scenery around them came from somewhere else inside of me.  It was clearly fantasy, but beautiful.

Glancing to my phone I had a missed call from Shaun from five minutes ago.  The time read two fifteen.  Wiping off what paint I could on my hands and arms, I tapped on Shaun’s name to call him back.

“Hey!” He answered at nearly a whisper seeming excited.

“Hey, I just got done,” I said slipping my shoes on, “I feel like a mess but I want to come hang out down there.”

“Uh, yeah,” Shaun said sarcastically and I laughed, “Rach, they’re back.” I paused and raised my eyebrows.

“The Avenger’s guys?” I asked, slipping on shoes.

“Mhm,” He said, “They just got here.  That’s why I called you before.  It’s just the two from last night.”

“That’s crazy,” I said, “Kinda weird.”

“Not weird for me, I’m loving this!” Shaun said. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was cheesing behind the phone.

“Shaun, I’m sorry, but Captain America is not going to have a crush on you,” I laughed out loud grabbing my keys and leaving my apartment.

“Shut up, Rachel,” He groaned.

“I’m on my way now, and beware!” I teased, “I’m a little hangry!”

“Nacho’s coming right up,” Shaun said and I hung up with a small thank you.

[ayoungpadwn]

Live Within My Heart

Also up on Ao3!

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker

Rating: Teen and Up

Chapters: 1/11

The first time Obi-Wan ever saw Anakin was when he was hunched over droid parts in the back of Watto's store. The sunlight streaming through the small crack in the clay lit the back of the young boy’s hair in a golden glow, giving him a halo that made Obi-Wan think, this one, for sure, he’s an angel.

Or, the one where Obi-Wan and Anakin were childhood best friends on Tatooine, until Anakin left him behind.

I hope you guys enjoy!! <3

The first time Obi-Wan ever saw Anakin was when he was hunched over small droid parts in the back of Watto’s store. It was blistering hot that day, Obi-Wan can recall. The sun could make your skin boil if you were out for too long. It was unbearable for small six-year-old Obi-Wan. He had run into the store in need of some shade before he made the rest of the walk to water harvesting, where he himself worked as a slave. And there he was. The sunlight streaming through the small crack in the clay lit the back of the young boy’s hair in a golden glow, giving him a halo that made Obi-Wan think, this one, for sure, he’s an angel. Though, he was most definitely human. An angel would not have oil streaks across their forehead from wiping sweat from their brow with their messy hands, or trails of dampness down the front and back of their thin, dirtied shirt.

Obi-Wan tried to make as little noise as possible as to not disturb the boy’s work. Though, he must have failed because suddenly the boy’s head jerked up in the direction of where Obi-Wan stood, stricken motionless with a sense of awe and adoration for the way a crooked smile cracked it’s way onto the older boy’s face. When the boy spoke it sounded like a song. His voice was still high-pitched, but cracking around the edges. A sign of puberty soon to hit. “Hey, little one, are you lost?” the boy, soon to be known as Anakin, stepped away from his desk and towards Obi-Wan’s frozen figure.

Young Obi-Wan shook his head fervently, “not lost. Sun was too hot,” he explained bluntly.

The boy nodded, “I see.” He stepped away for a moment, grabbing something from behind the curvature of the clay wall. When his hand next came into view he was holding a small brown cloak. “This may look hot, but it’s thin and it’ll protect your pale skin from the sun,” he said and stepped around what could only be considered a front desk. Obi-Wan remained unmoving as Anakin knelt on one knee and slung the thin, but smooth, material around Obi-Wan’s shoulders and flipped the hood up over his head. He smiled at Obi-Wan when he next spoke. “You’re lucky Watto had this from when I was your age. It makes you look like a Jedi, young one.”

“A Jedi?” Obi-Wan questioned as he toyed with the hood of the cloak.

He nodded, “yup, a Jedi. Have you never heard of them?” Obi-Wan shook his head, which made Anakin scoff in disbelief, “how have you never heard of the Jedi ? They’re the coolest people in the entire universe.” Obi-Wan shrugged, looking helplessly away from Anakin’s gaze. “Tell you what,” he began, “you meet me here after the first sun sets, and I’ll tell you all about the Jedi, alright?”

Obi-Wan nodded excitedly, “yes. Yes!”

He laughed, “and what’s your name, young one?”

“Obi-Wan, sir.”

The boy smiled weakly as he got back onto both his feet and guided Obi-Wan towards the exit of Watto’s store, “call me Anakin, young Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan went to water harvesting that day with the promise of a new friendship blooming in the back of his mind. Growing up on Tatooine, meeting kids, much less having friends, was a rare occurrence. Five-year-old Obi-Wan would not let the opportunity pass him by. When he would later arrive outside Watto’s store, just after the first red sun set over the horizon, he was greeted with a grinning Anakin, leaning against the clay hut. He had his own cloak which fit tightly around his shoulders, a sign that he had grown a fair amount in the time he owned the clothing. As they walked away from the store the winds picked up, nearly sending scrawny Obi-Wan to the ground if Anakin hadn’t held out a hand for him to take. They ran the rest of the way towards a small hut, only a small distance from Watto’s store. Once inside, Anakin bolted the door and closed the window, the promise of a sandstorm now safely locked outside.

“Make yourself at home,” Anakin said as he shrugged off his cloak, hanging it neatly by the door, “my mother is most likely in her room sleeping. She works early morning shifts, so she’s usually tired by now,” Anakin clarified. “But I’m sure she won’t be against you staying until the storm settles.”

Anakin prepared them some tea. Tatooine tea was never Obi-Wan’s favorite. It was bitter to the taste and Anakin always brewed it so hot you could barely hold the cup in your hands. By the time you could actually drink it, all the tea leaves were broken apart and floating at the top. But, as Obi-Wan grew older, he always found himself craving a batch made from Anakin’s kettle on Tatooine.

Eventually they found themselves tucked into a small corner of the living room, if that is what you could call the area between the fireplace and the dining room table. They spent the time, as the sandstorm raged outside, with Obi-Wan huddled close to Anakin’s side, while the older boy sketches images of ‘lightsabers’ and ‘Star Destroyers’ (aka giant ships, at least that’s what Obi-Wan chose to call them) into the sand with a small piece of metal he had grabbed from somewhere inside the apartment. Anakin told him stories of powerful Jedi, who wield a powerful Force. The Force which holds all things at peace. He told Obi-Wan about the Jedi Order and the Temple, where all young Jedi’s learn and study in hopes to one day be knighted.

The storm finally died down, being reduced to a dim howl. Obi-Wan knew his parents must be worried for him, since he still hadn’t arrived home, but there was something so soothing about sitting next to Anakin. He simply didn’t want to go. He enjoyed studying the older’s face while he tells stories, an unmistakable sparkle of wonder in his blue eyes. “Do you want to be a Jedi?” Obi-Wan finally asked after a silence fell between them. They must have both been thinking it’s high time for Obi-Wan to head home, yet neither made a move to leave.

He could practically see Anakin’s soft smile when he looped an arm around Obi-Wan and hugged him tightly to his side, “when I was about your age, I once believed I would become the strongest Jedi to ever live. I thought I was destined for something much greater than being a simple slave on Tatooine, but-”

“You are!” Obi-Wan exclaimed, pulling himself from Anakin’s grasp in order to look him in the eye, “you are, though! You must be destined for something great.”

Anakin smiled sadly at him, “no one knows that for sure. But, even if I don’t become a Jedi, I still plan to fly far, far away from this dusty planet one day. I’m the best pilot in the galaxy, after all.” He said with a wink.

“Will you take me with you?” Obi-Wan asked, all puppy-dog eyes and pouty lips. Something akin to hope bloomed in his chest.

Anakin sighed. He’s only known this kid for a day and yet he’s managed to already have a weak spot for him. “Of course I will, Obi. I wouldn’t leave you behind.”

That night Obi-Wan fell asleep after a much expected reprimanding from his parents about always telling them where he is. He rustled against his blankets, the thin brown cloak still protectively wrapped around him. A gentle whisper in the night lulled him to sleep. It came as an inhale and left as an exhale. Goodnight, young Obi-Wan, the voice said. And if Obi-Wan didn’t know any better, the voice sounded awfully alike to that of Anakin. Soft, and rather high-pitched, cracking around the edges. He fell asleep with a smile and a soft, “goodnight, Ani,” whispered for only himself.

The two grew closer over the next year and eventually came to be known as troublemakers around Tatooine. Really, they didn’t cause that much trouble, people just liked to exaggerate. The only trouble they did cause was sneaking away from their work from time to time to go on Anakin’s speeder and race off towards the cliffs, where they let their feet dangle off the edge. It became their designated spot for telling stories. Or, well, where Anakin would tell stories and Obi-Wan would gratefully listen. When they would finally go back to their respective ‘jobs,’ Obi-Wan usually got away without being punished, since his master had bigger problems to deal with (like the depleting water supply), and Watto’s old age left him in a place where he was no longer fit enough to really punish Anakin. Nothing more than a harsh talking to.

Obi-Wan was perfectly happy with the life he had shaped on Tatooine. Even though he was still a slave, by the time he’s fourteen he’d have worked himself to freedom. Just seven more years didn’t seem too bad, not if he had Ani by his side. But… that’s what scared him. Anakin’s slave ‘contract,’ if you could even call it that, extended until he was in his twenties, and it didn’t seem like Anakin was up to waiting that long. Obi-Wan could feel his need to get off Tatooine, to go far away and never return. Anakin’s need for exploration had once fuelled Obi-Wan’s, but now it left a bitter and terrified feeling in his chest. He found himself, more often than not, clinging to the promise Anakin had made him a year ago. That if he left, he would take Obi-Wan with him. But as each day passed, Obi-Wan became less certain of the promise.

So, he focused on the present. He cherished the moments when he and Anakin would sit in Anakin’s room, either polishing droid parts or working on building a droid Anakin had called “C-3PO.” He clung to the times when Anakin would give him basic flying lessons on his speeder, and memorize the smile Anakin had on his face when Obi-Wan was able to fly without any help. He even adored the moments when the junky speeder would break down and they would be stranded out in the sun for a couple hours while Anakin fixed it, giving Obi-Wan a run-down of what he’s doing since, “Obi-Wan, this could be yours one day! If I can get a new one, that is.”

Of course, there were always times when they found themselves in a bit of a… situation, as you would call it. Anakin had such an adventuring spirit, and Obi-Wan always went along with what the older boy did, so they often ended up in some sort of pickle. Like the one time that Anakin took Obi-Wan to look through an Old Republic ship. One that had crash-landed on Tatooine years and years ago, back when the Jedi had defeated the Sith for the first time. Banishing the dark Force users to darkness.

Anakin had thought it would make an interesting afternoon activity, that is, to go walking around an abandoned ship that had been scrapped for parts countless times by different scavengers. Anakin led them through the boosters in the back, and Obi-Wan feared that they would turn on and blast them, but Anakin only laughed.

“Listen to this,” Anakin said with a smile once they were inside the back hull, “HELLO!” he shouted, without any real warning, making Obi-Wan spook. Anakin’s voice reverberated off the walls, floor, and ceiling of the empty ship, slowly trailing off into silence. “You try,” Anakin said and nudged Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

Obi-Wan looked tentatively at Anakin, then back towards the dark abyss of the ship, “hello?” he said weakly, making Anakin laugh.

“You gotta say it louder than that for it to work.”

Obi-Wan pouted before planting his feet apart, maybe giving himself a more powerful stance would help make his voice travel. “Hello!” his small voice traveled a short distance, not echoing for nearly as long as Anakin’s did, but the older boy still gave him a proud pat on the shoulder.

“You did it!” Anakin told him with a smile, “let’s go in a little further, I want to try and get to the main bri-”

That’s when the floor underneath Anakin creaked. A loud popping noise followed by a terrifying silence. Anakin barely had time to look back over his shoulder towards Obi-Wan before the metal scrap caved in, sending Anakin and a good portion of the floor careening down to the hangar underneath. Obi-Wan yelled and tried to reach for Anakin’s hand, but he was already too far away. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, the sound of the metal crashing together drowning out the dull thud of Anakin colliding with the ground. After a few beats of silence Obi-Wan dared to open his eyes. He felt his breath catch in his throat when he saw Anakin laying eerily still, his arm bent at an unnatural angle.

“Ani… Anakin?” Obi-Wan whispered. There was no way. Anakin wasn’t dead… right? He couldn’t be. “Anakin!” Obi-Wan yelled before squeezing his eyes shut.

“If you scream like that your voice will echo for sure.” Obi-Wan’s eyes flew open, gazing down to where Anakin was starting to sit up. He let out a breath of relief when his friend looked back up at him. “My head is pounding, I probably have a concussion,” Anakin sighed in aggravation.

Obi-Wan felt like hitting him and running to hug him at the same time. “You scared me!” Obi-Wan yelled, “Force! I thought you were dead! Anakin!” He yelled down angrily.

Anakin sighed, “can you not yell, Obi. My head is pounding.”

“I am going to yell! You could’ve died!”

Obi-Wan could practically see Anakin’s eye roll from down there, “I wasn’t going to die. It isn’t that big of a drop. I’ve fallen down this thing before.” That’s when Anakin looked down at his arm, “never broke my arm before, though.”

Eventually Anakin was able to get to his feet, a bit unsteadily, Obi-Wan noted. Obi-Wan climbed out the way they came in and met Anakin down at the entrance to the hangar, clobbering him in a hug as soon as he was in arms reach. They were eventually able to make it back to the speeder, Anakin getting on behind Obi-Wan, since there was no way he was driving the thing with a broken arm. When they arrived back to the Skywalker home, Ms. Skywalker gave Anakin a very intense talking to, before gently taking care of his broken arm. “You stupid boys,” she had said as soon as they walked through the door, “what happened this time?”

Obi-Wan is never sure how Anakin can laugh about something so traumatic, but the very next day he was showing up to Obi-Wan’s doorstep, arm in a splint, with a face-splitting grin. He joked about the incident with Obi-Wan’s parents in a way that got even them laughing. Obi-Wan had always admired that about Anakin, that he has the ability to spin any terrible situation into an interesting story.

Obi-Wan also loved the times when he would get to spend dinner with the Skywalker’s. It was always quite interesting getting to watch Ms. Skywalker and her son bicker for an hour or more. Obi-Wan had a good relationship with his parents, they loved him, obviously. But the Skywalker’s had something special. A bond between them that consisted of mother and son but also best friends. After all, Ms. Skywalker was the ‘fun mom.’ The mom who everyone wanted to know and be friends with, so getting to spend an evening with her and Anakin was never something Obi-Wan passed up.

But the moments he adored most of all was when he and Anakin would sit on the cliff, watching the two suns of Tatooine set over the distant horizon. He always felt that if he could live there forever, in that minute, or even second, he would be content.

“Obi,” Anakin said, grabbing the younger boy’s attention, “what do you see in your future?”

Obi-Wan frowned, not entirely sure how to answer that. He was only seven, what was he supposed to say? He didn’t even know what to expect from tomorrow . But, he answered honestly, “I… I hope to keep you in my future.”

Anakin smiled, “I hope to keep you in my future too, Obi. That’ll never change.” He proceeded to sigh angrily, “I just feel like there’s something out there that I’m missing. Don’t you?”

Obi-Wan shrugged, “I’m seven, Ani. I don’t exactly know what I should be missing.”

Anakin looked at the ground sadly. Obi-Wan followed his gaze down to the space spread out between their hands, a feeling of dread settled into him. “Still, when I was your age I always had such high expectations for my future. I feel like you should have grown up somewhere else, like on Coruscant or something.” Anakin laughed at that, “I could definitely see you as a Senator. Plus, if I were a Jedi, we wouldn’t be that far away from each other.”

Obi-Wan swung his feet back and forth over the edge, “Senator Kenobi and Jedi Knight Skywalker,” something about it made Obi-Wan’s face sour. He didn’t really want to be a Senator… being a Jedi sounded like much more fun.

Anakin must have caught his expression because soon enough he was laughing, full-bodied and bending forward, “does being a Senator sound that awful?” He asked, as if he could read Obi-Wan’s mind. Obi-Wan didn’t respond, so Anakin looped his foot around to catch Obi-Wan’s leg and grab his attention. “Wherever I go, I promise I won’t leave you forever. Okay?”

Obi-Wan shrugged, “I suppose. Do you plan on leaving Tatooine?”

Anakin’s face scrunched up and he looked away towards the setting suns, “I never intended to stay here in the first place. I’ve always dreamt of getting off this rock, it’s just a matter of when.” I’m sorry .

The voice makes Obi-Wan jerk. It comes as a whisper, warm and revealing. It fills his heart to the brim, and tears threaten at his water line. Even though the voice came without a body, it was unmistakably Anakin. So when Obi-Wan finally looks back up and his friend is already looking down at him, he bursts into tears. Anakin braces him in a hug as Obi-Wan lets his fear become a reality.

The next month a ship lands on Tatooine. It’s shiny and silver, sleek and aerodynamic. No wonder it catched Anakin’s eye. They were out on their normal cliff when they saw the ship come shooting out of the sky. Anakin gathered them up hastily, rushing to his speeder to try and follow the ship. Obi-Wan thought about throwing a tantrum to try and stall the inevitable, but in the end he knew it would just make Anakin upset, so they got on the speeder and followed the strange ship back to their town. Upon closer inspection, it was most definitely a type of imperial ship, if the amount of guards and the woman dressed in fancy clothing standing outside the ship was anything to go by. Without coming to a full stop Anakin hopped off the speeder, practically pulling Obi-Wan off with him.

“Anakin, wait! Those are imperial guards! We can’t rush over there, they might shoot us!” Obi-Wan tried to reason.

Anakin simply rolled his eyes, “don’t be so scared, Obi. They might need help.”

As they made their way over, they finally grabbed the attention of the guards, who stood protectively around the woman. Obi-Wan felt his heart rate rise, he was too young to die! Stupid Anakin. He felt Anakin’s footsteps falter when a man stepped out of the ship, dressed in white and brown robes, long hair and an unmistakable weapon attached to his waist. A lightsaber. The weapon of a Jedi. Obi-Wan felt his heart sink in his chest. This was Anakin’s ticket off this dusty planet. There was no way he would let this opportunity slip him by. Obi-Wan feels like curling in on himself as they take a few steps closer to the ship, the Jedi finally taking notice of their presence.

“Greetings,” the Jedi said, his voice powerful and his tall stature domineering, “I’m Qui-Gon with the Jedi Council. We ran into some… engine problems, do you know of anyone who may be able to help us?” His lilting Coruscant accent was unmistakable.

“I’m Anakin Skywalker, I’m a well-known mechanic here on Tatooine. I would be happy to take a look if you would like.” Anakin said, letting his grip fall from Obi-Wan’s hand.

The Jedi--Qui-Gon--eyed him warily before nodding, “yes, alright, that would be much appreciated. And who is your friend if you don’t mind me asking?”

Anakin smiled as he turned his head down to look at Obi-Wan, who had hidden himself partially behind Anakin’s leg, “this is Obi-Wan Kenobi. We’re both slaves here on Tatooine. I work for a droid mechanic and Obi-Wan works at water harvesting.”

Qui-Gon’s eyebrows furrowed, “water harvesting? But he’s so young.”

Anakin shrugged, “they like to start us as early as possible, I suppose.”

Qui-Gon made a huffing noise before moving aside to guide them towards the engine, “well, we appreciate your kindness. If there is something we can do to repay you, please let me know.”

“Actually,” Anakin said as they walked on the underside of the ship. He started tapping along the sleek metal. Most likely to find the opening hatch, Obi-Wan realized. “There is something. I’ve been trying to get off this dusty planet for as long as I can remember…”

Qui-Gon put up his hand, “let me stop you there. If you are, in fact, a slave, that means you are someone’s property. Even as part of the Jedi Council, it does not give me the right to take you away from them without a form of payment.”

Obi-Wan sat himself a few feet from Anakin, watching him slowly pull a piece of the metal away to reveal a smoking engine. Anakin fanned the smoke away as he set the metal down and started to inspect the inner-workings of the engine. Obi-Wan would never tire of watching Anakin work on machines. “This is an imperial ship, isn’t it? Surely you have some type of payment on board.”

Qui-Gon responds in silence as he takes a seat beside Obi-Wan. He folds his hands within his robes before responding, “I suppose there is some payment aboard, yes.”

Anakin paused his work and looked down at Qui-Gon with a raised brow. Obi-Wan bit the inside of his mouth. He’s surprised Anakin would show such an attitude to a Jedi. “So is that saying you’ll help me?”

“I will do what I can.”

Anakin ended up fixing the engine, and, much to Obi-Wan’s dismay, Qui-Gon agreed to speak with Watto. Obi-Wan felt like an outsider when he saw Anakin being called over by the woman, or Queen Amidala, as Qui-Gon had called her. He felt helpless when he watched them talk and he escorted her into town, following behind Qui-Gon. There was an unmistakable blush creeping up Anakin’s neck and cheeks each time Queen Amidala smiled at him. Obi-Wan is left alone under the belly of the ship. He should probably return to water harvesting, since he’s been away far longer than he originally intended. But, he can’t make himself move. Not even when the winds pick up, the telltale sign of a sandstorm on it’s way, or when the suns begin to set and the cold starts to settle in.

If Anakin actually cared he would have come and checked on me , Obi-Wan told himself as he flipped the hood of his cloak up to face against the wind. Looking back, he knows he was a stupid seven-year-old who was pouting because he felt like he was losing his best friend. Yet, at the time, he felt like facing a sandstorm was easier than facing the friend that was inevitably going to leave him. As soon as the second sun set, the rumble of a sandstorm shook the ground under Obi-Wan. He distantly heard the shouts of people from the village telling everyone to get inside, yet he remained frozen to the spot.

As the winds continued to pick up, a dark cloud of sand and rubble approaching from the distance, he heard shouting. Distant… but it made his ears perk forward. “Ani?” he mumbled into the sleeve of his cloak without looking up.

Obi, come to me. Please. It was then then that Obi-Wan looked up to see a struggling Anakin trying to push his way through the wind towards the ship. Tears pricked at the edge of his eyes as he got up and ran towards his friend, grabbing at his legs in a tight hug. Anakin didn’t hesitate before bending down and wrapping them up in his cloak, hiding them from the assaulting sand. “Force, Obi. You scared me. I went to check on you, thinking that you were back with your parents. When they said that you didn’t come home, I-” Anakin’s voice cracked, which made Obi-Wan look up, only to find that his eyes were red around the edges, fighting back tears. “Don’t you ever do that again, okay?”

Obi-Wan nodded his head, looking down at his feet as the wind pushed him closer to Anakin’s chest. “I’m sorry, Ani. So sorry. Don’t leave me, please. Please, don’t leave. Don’t leave Tatooine. Please, I love you.” He said in one last desperate attempt to make Anakin stay. Though, who was he kidding? He’s only a child. Why would Anakin stay for him?

The words made Anakin go rigid before he let out a long sigh, “I love you too, Obi-Wan. Let’s get you home and we can talk, okay?”

They hurriedly walked towards Obi-Wan’s hut, Anakin staying at his back to protect him from the sand and wind. Despite the circumstances, Obi-Wan tried to enjoy this moment. Their closeness, their shared warmth. Somewhere deep inside he knew this was the last time, at least for a long while. When they reached Obi-Wan’s front door Anakin opened it to reveal two very worried parents. They ushered them both inside, Obi-Wan being clobbered by two extremely tight hugs. Anakin waited patiently by the door while Obi-Wan got reprimanded. Eventually they left the two alone, the sound of howling wind filling their silence.

“Obi, look at me.” Anakin finally said, making Obi-Wan turn. Tears were already streaking the young one’s face, and Anakin wiped them away with a gentle touch from his cloak. “Please don’t cry. I’m sorry I’m leaving, but Qui-Gon wants to take me back to Coruscant…”

“Are you going to be a Jedi?” Obi-Wan sniffled.

Anakin smiled sadly at him, “that’s the hope.”

Obi-Wan dared to ask, even though he already knew the answer, “am--am I going with you?”

Anakin brushed back some of Obi-Wan’s light red hair, “I tried to talk them into it, but since you’re a slave as well it’s… it’s complicated. Plus, I don’t know if your parents-”

“You promised!” Obi-Wan cried, “you promised to take me with you! You’re a liar!” Obi-Wan yelled as he started backing away, “I take it back! I don’t love you! I hate you!” He barely registered the pain on Anakin’s face before he turned away and raced for his room. He flopped down on his bed, sobbing into his blanket. He half expected Anakin to come after him, but when he heard the front door open and close, his hopes were crushed. Obi-Wan ripped the cloak off, throwing it to the ground as hard as he could. Even though it only produced a soft, nearly silent, thud.

After his tear ducts ran dry and his throat became scratchy from crying, he started drifting to sleep. A broken promise and a year of memories playing behind his eyelids as he closed his eyes. In one last desperate attempt he searched for the voice, Anakin’s voice, which whispered to him on nights like these. Yet all he was met with was the distant howl of the storm.

The next morning he didn’t bother going to water harvesting. Instead, right when he awoke, he raced to the ship. Hoping, pleading, that they would still be there. As he came upon the sleek and shiny ship he saw as Qui-Gon, Queen Amidala and Anakin were getting ready to board, a singular bag at Anakin’s feet. This is goodbye, then , Obi-Wan thought to himself. Perhaps Anakin heard him, somehow, because suddenly he’s whipping his head towards where Obi-Wan is stood, cemented to the spot. Distantly, he realizes he’s grasping the cloak Anakin gave him in his hand. He didn’t even remember picking it up.

Anakin turned to Qui-Gon, said something, and Qui-Gon gave a curt nod. Before Obi-Wan can react, Anakin is already walking towards him, a solemn look on his face. Obi-Wan doesn’t take a single step forward. Anakin kneels in front of Obi-Wan, a hopeful glint in his eye. He looks older to Obi-Wan, somehow. Much older than thirteen.

“I was hoping you would come,” Anakin said.

Obi-Wan shrugged, shifting his gaze towards the ground.

“I wanted to give you this,” Anakin continued and produced a small pendant from his palm. Obi-Wan had seen Anakin make similar ones to these in the past. He’d been at his side when he had made one for his mother. “Thought it would remind you of me,” he shrugged, “I understand if you don’t want it, just-”

“I want it,” Obi-Wan interrupted, before opening his hand, palm up, so that Anakin can drop the pendant inside. When it fell into his grasp, it was much heavier than he thought it would be. But the weight of it was reassuring.

Anakin sighed, “I can’t make them wait forever. I just wanted to ask you one thing.” Obi-Wan nodded, prompting Anakin to continue, “look after my mom? I know she’s strong, but it’s dangerous for her here.”

“I’ll look after her,” Obi-Wan said, a promise lingering between them.

“Thank you, Obi.” Anakin said, and leaned forward to press a soft kiss to Obi-Wan’s forehead. As he got up to leave, he turned back around, “oh, and the speeder is all yours. I have a feeling you’re going to make a great pilot.” Anakin gave him his signature crooked grin for a final time as he turned to walk away.

Obi-Wan watched as Anakin boarded the ship, sending back a final wave. In a way Obi-Wan was happy for him. He’d always wanted to get off this planet, and now he can. He’s going to be a Jedi . It was his dream. Obi-Wan just wished he was a part of it.

As he watched the ship prepare for launch, he sent out a final, desperate message. I don’t hate you.

I know.

[sketches-of-stories]

What Happens in Maine Stays in Maine

Maine was everything Alik Payne had hoped it would be and more. After moving every couple of months to a year due to his troubled childhood it was nice to have a sense of stability, especially in a place as beautiful as this. He lived for the way the ever present breeze snaked the smells of pine forests, salt water, rain, and damp earth into his belongings. He loved the insects that hummed from their hiding places in the towering trees, the scrubby brush, and cool steep cliffs. Glittering streams, lakes, and even the jagged coastline as sharp as a knife put him at ease, reminding him of days gone by and the various places he had lived in his reasonably short life. The feeling of pine needles snagging themselves in his hoodies and black hair as he stood knee deep in freezing crystal clear water and watched the sunset never ceased to make him shiver in delight. Of course there was one thing that happened in Maine was more precious to him than any delight mother nature had to offer. Maine was the place he had finally, finally married the love of his life.

    “I’ll be back soon Charlotte. I love you,” Alik murmured gently, leaning down to kiss his sleeping wife gently on the cheek. He lingered for a second before brushing a strand of dirty blonde hair from her eyes and wrapping the sheets closer around her. Alik straightened. There was nowhere he’d rather be than alone in their cozy little cabin in the pine forest with his lovely wife. She really was the perfect picture of beauty and innocence. Hopefully he’d be back soon.

    The floorboards creaked as Alik tiptoed across the room. He paused and made a mental note to look into the problem. They couldn’t have anything that would disturb the little bubble of peace he’d crafted just for the two of them. Rays of sunlight wove their way through the tree branches outside, peeked through the lacy white curtains, and cast a soft golden glow to everything in the room. Alik’s breath caught in his throat as he glanced back at Charlotte one last time. She was the most breathtaking person he’d ever seen.

    Alik padded out into the dimly lit hall, his sock feet causing him to slip slightly on the shiny hardwood floor. One hand snapped up to grip the door and he righted himself. It gave him less of a fright then most of the experiences he’d had in his life but his relative comfort during the past few days had already stripped him of his conditioning to such things. Somehow he’d have to find a way to recondition himself to be always alert, although that, he told himself, was a job for another time.   

    Birds whistled in the pines surrounding his little Eden and without really realizing it he hummed along. Everything finally seemed at peace, Alik thought to himself as he strolled into the kitchen, absentmindedly snagging a piece of bread from the pantry. Just as he had done nearly every morning for the past few days he strode over to the dull metallic toaster and prepared his breakfast. He leaned against the cool marble counter, grinning with pride at his accomplishment. Gone was the time when he would skip breakfast and occasionally one or both of the other meals. Charlotte needed her husband to be healthy and he had eagerly vowed to do anything in his power to look after her happiness.

    The mouth-watering aroma of toast and the soft sound of the toaster broke the man from his thoughts. Alik swore. He was getting distracted. Charlotte always seemed to have that effect on him. Carefully, he removed the toast and bit into it with a satisfying crunch. Cooked to perfection, just the way everything seemed to be going recently.

    “I could get used to this,” he breathed to the silent house before shaking the thoughts from his head and devouring the rest of his small meal. 

    After struggling down the last of his toast Alik made his way to the front door. A full looking black trash bag, a charcoal colored duffle bag that was stained in several places, and an old pair of hiking boots were strewn on the floor beside it. They smelled bad and he wrinkled his nose. Alik ran a hand through his thick dark hair but crouched to pull on the boots anyway. His knees popped when he stood without bothering to tie his shoes. Alik opened the door, it’s locks making a click as he turned them, shouldered the duffle bag, and grabbed the trash bag with his other hand. The solid contents and what sounded like a substantial amount of liquid shifted and sloshed in the bag as he dragged it across the floor and down the stairs, unable to lift it for longer than a few seconds.

    It took a minute to find his rusted silver pickup truck in the early morning fog and he set the bags down for a second before realizing he’d probably lose them if he didn’t take them with him. When he finally reached the vehicle he unlocked it with a click, tossed his duffle bag into the passenger seat with a grunt, and hoisted the trash bag into the back where it sloshed disgustingly for a few seconds. After ensuring the bag wouldn’t spill Alik hopped out of the truck bed and climbed in the driver’s seat. The leather of the seat was cool, and the cold seeped through his sweatpants. Trying his best to ignore the chill he cranked the heat as high as it could go, flipped the switch that activated the heated seats, and maneuvered the truck out of the gravel driveway.

    Pine trees lined both sides of the road, whizzing past when the truck was finally brought up to speed. There was significantly less fog then there had been only a few minutes earlier. Only a thin mist floated in the air, illuminating in places where the sun had found its way through the branches. Alik smiled. Everything in Maine was so incredibly beautiful.

The last word of his previous thought made him grin wider and filled his mind with images of Charlotte again. Her hair would catch the light wonderfully out here. Maybe someday soon he could coax her out of their little house and into the truck. The two of them could walk hand in hand along beaches dotted with sickly green seaweed, their toes indenting softly in the sand beneath them. He would whisper a joke in her ear and she would laugh and smile and kiss him on the cheek. Everything would be perfect and neither of them would have to have any anxiety anymore. The dark past was behind them and the future was limitless.

Unconsciously he let out a sigh and wondered how it was possible to miss someone so much after only being separated from them for such a short period of time. Of course getting rid of garbage was important and it was such an inconvenient necessity that forced him to burn his trash a considerable distance from his home, but was it really too much to ask to just want to be home?

    Alik was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly missed his final turn. He noticed where he was just in time, flicked on the turn signal, and turned the vehicle onto the dirt path to the right. Small animals scurried across the dead leaves that covered the ground, crunching them as they fled from the truck. The soft mud was littered with potholes, which on more than one occasion rammed his head sharply into the roof. Alik swore, rubbed the top of his head tenderly, and parked. The path ended a few miles from the road in a small open section in the trees that was cleared of as many flammable things as possible. The perfect place to burn any garbage, especially the kind he frequently had. 

    Building and setting the fire didn’t take long. It was a handy skill he had picked up long ago. Only a few moments after he lit the match did he manage to get a decently sized fire going. Alik added logs as quickly as he could without putting the fire out before hurrying back to his truck and returning with his two bags. The trash bag he tossed into the flames with a dark laugh before shouldering the duffle bag and setting off down a footpath through the brush. Briefly he wondered if Charlotte would think the smell of wood smoke would suit him when he returned. He was almost certain she’d say yes and perhaps on her own accord.

    The footpath ended at a beautiful lake where Alik calmly disposed of the duffle bag. It hit the water with a resounding splash and immediately sunk. Evidence gone, he thought to himself with a smirk. He’d have to find a time to buy a new saw, but he really couldn’t risk anyone finding this particular one. In a few hours he’d be able to return home with no one any wiser about what he’d done. He set back off down the trail to watch the fire burn out and bury any bones left from the trash bag.

    It was three o’clock when he finally returned to his cabin and his wife. The gravel beneath the tires of his truck crunched as he parked and Alik nearly flew out of the vehicle and up the front steps. Quickly his fingers undid all the locks, punching in the different number combinations for all six of the locks. The door was shut quietly and his boots kicked off before he spoke.

    “Charlotte, darling,” he called, scanning the kitchen for any sign of her before moving on to the various other rooms she could be occupying. “Where are you my dear? I’m home.” He finally located her cowering on the bed in their bedroom, the last room he checked. “No need to be afraid Charlotte. I love you too much to do you any harm.” He paused as if waiting for a response. None came. “Are you not going to return the sentiment?” Charlotte flinched and Alik silently cursed himself. She’d had many frights over the past year, several of them even unintentionally by him. Of course she’d still be jumpy at times. And he had sounded rather cruel. 

“Orion! I… I’m sorry. You simply startled me.” She trembled and couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. “Yes. I… I love you. I do. You… you’re my husband now. Of course I love you.” Alik shook his head, his hands curled into fists, and his jaw seemed to be clenched so tightly it must have hurt him. “Really, I do,” she added, desperately trying to reassure him for her own safety. He let out his breath slowly and allowed the rage to leave his body. He couldn’t bring himself to stay angry with her for too long.

    “Charlotte, love, how many times do I have to tell you? I’m Alik now. That boyfriend of yours luckily looked conveniently similar to me. Well, he did until my cyanide, the saw, and this morning’s fire got to him. Orion Turner, the man I used to be is no more. It's like a baptism of sorts,” he mused. "A new life just for the two of us!" He stretched his mouth into what he hoped looked like a dashing grin. The young woman in front of him burst into tears. He hated to see her cry and instantly rushed to her side, kissing the tears from her face, and whispering sweetly in her ear. Someday, he told himself, he wouldn’t have to hold her so tightly she couldn’t move before he touched her.

Charlotte didn't love him yet, this he knew. But in time, especially with it only being the two of them, Alik was sure she’d come around. She had to! He’d struggled so much. Identity theft was rather tricky to do well in a short amount of time. But they had all the time in the world and there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

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

Written for my creative writing class

[remmushound]

Part 11 of my bay/rise crossover! @errorfreak88 @brightlotusmoon

Now that the lair was empty, Donatello felt much more at home. He thought it strange that they give so much trust to a complete stranger, however; it had taken years for his April to be left alone in the lair, and even then it was with all the doors locked and constant calls to make sure she wasn’t up to no good. Yet here Donatello was, in an open lair with open doors and no one to keep him in check. And he was a little gremlin who wanted to get up to no good.

At first, he tried to be discreet about it. Just walking around the main room, casually glancing around at any odds and ends that caught his eye. He gave an unsettled grunt at the state of the couch, looking hardly big enough to fit three of the massive mutants shell-to-shell. It was covered in graffiti and blankets and pillows, and the couch itself was made up of pizza boxes— actual pizza boxes! He certainly wouldn’t want to sit on it with its structural integrity. He looked for any alternate arrangements and only found a dirty bean bag chair, and instead of any tables they just had the same assortment pizza boxes stacked up high. It seemed they never got rid of any of their boxes!

Donatello stopped in his tracks as he beheld the Wall of Boomboxes. Such an outdated tech, nonetheless he admired the style and dedication it would take to collect so many. A quick equation told him there were exactly a hundred and twenty five of them in various states of grime and decay. He stared a moment as he worked through the scene completely in his mind before nodding pointedly.

“Nice.”

The rest of his search brought him a concerning amount of TV’s— forty of them to be exact. And on a separate wall he was drawn particularly to the art he recognized to be from the painters of his and his brothers namesake. So these turtles had least had some type of class. The skateboard chair, made of nine skateboards connected with industrial glue into the shape of a throne, caught his attention almost as long as the Wall of Boomboxes. He looked around to make sure he wasn’t being watched by camera or mutant before he hummed and took a seat in the marvelous chair.

“I feel like a king.” He smiled and snickered to himself.

“Well, one would in such a wonderful throne.”

Donatello screamed and launched himself off of the skateboard throne, crawling away and grabbing the first thing he saw— a racket ball— and tossing it at whoever had spoken.

“OH MY BANANA PANCAKES!”

The other mutant caught the racket ball with ease, and then knelt down to roll it back to the frightened softshell. “Be still, young one. I am not here to harm you.”

The mutant was slightly smaller than Donatello, covered in a fine layer of brown fur intermittently speckled with patches of white. His face was outlined in white on his cheeks and around beady black eyes, and on his muzzle was white fur so long it had the appearance of a goatee. Black hair on his head was pulled back in a tight ponytail, and a giant, brownish tail whipped behind him with a mind of its own.

Splinter. Of course there was a Splinter— how could there not be? Splinter laughed and held out his paw to Donatello in an offering of friendship, and Donatello accepted the help without hesitation. Splinter yanked Donatello to his feet with ease and gave the softshell a careful pat on the shoulder, ears flicking as he made a mental note of the soft, leathery skin.

“I am sorry if I frightened you, young one. I am glad you are doing better. When you and your brother arrived here, I was concerned for your wellbeing. Seeing you up and walking is a great relief to me, my child. How are you enjoying our home?”

Donatello churred nervously. “I don’t know, it’s kinda dirty.”

Splinter laughed a low, raspy laugh. “It is a storm drain, young shinobi. Were you expecting the Ritz?”

“If my dork of a brother saw this, he’d go on a cleaning hyperfixation for days!”

“Well I should hope to meet him properly once he wakes.”

“Oh— no, not that brother. Raph’s room looks like a freight train goes through it every morning. Of course, it’s a six foot four hundred pound freight train, but still.”

Splinter’s eyes glistened. “Ah. Yes. My Raphael is much the same way.” He nodded his head pointedly. “Are the rest of your brothers here in the city?”

“I… I don’t know. The Shredder separated us.”

“Ah… Shredder has separated me from my sons once as well…” Splinter lowered his head, his paws going to clutch at his stomach as the memory renewed the pain in his scars. He tried not to make it too obvious. “Your father must be so worried.”

“Eh, I don’t know. He’s never really been worried about us before.”

“I’m sure he has.” Splinter stepped aside and offered the skateboard seat to Donatello, to which Donatello promptly sat. Splinter came up to hover over the ninja’s shoulder, almost like a guardian looking over him. “Maybe he just doesn’t want to worry you in turn.”

“You haven’t met my Splinter. He doesn’t care about anything.”

“I am willing to listen if you are willing to talk.”

Donatello didn't know why he was being so open about his world. Even when his other-him was asking questions, Donatello had made sure to keep his answers vague for personal safety, but just the presence of this mutant rat so much like his father seemed to force out every secret, private thought Donatello had.

“Our dad was human before, the last descendant of an ancient clan of Ninja. He was trained all his life in ninjutsu before he ended up mutating and took me and my brothers as his sons…”

Splinter listened to the story and nodded along, smiling and flicking his ears to encourage the mutant.

“I mean— I’m technically only mentally fourteen, but physically I’m fifteen— it’s just really complicated.”

“Too complicated for an old rat to understand?” Splinter smirked.

“Yes.” Donatello didn't hesitate to answer quite bluntly. He just stared back at Splinter a moment before returning to the story. “He did his best for his situation, but he was… distant at best. Most of our childhood was spent sat in front of the TV watching soap operas and old action movies. That’s where I got my gloriously consequential personality!” Donatello fell dramatically with his hand to his forehead, “Alas, tis the life of a poor, young mutant forsook by the world he was brought into. Shunned by society, forced to live in the sewers with the RATS— sorry, getting off track.” He cleared his throat, “Our favorite show was this action series following a Shinobi master named Lou Jitsu beating bad guys with ladders and hot soup.”

Splinter couldn’t help but laugh, both at the fluctuating dramatics of the younger mutant and the image in his mind of such a funny series. “My Michelangelo and Leonardo would love that. Was the jiu jitsu accurate?”

“Oh yeah, for sure.” Donatello nodded, “The actor was an actual shinobi master, so he did all his stunts himself.”

Splinter was in a thought a moment, humming to himself. “Your father was the actor?”

“Yeah.” Donatello laughed, “My brothers and I first got into ninjitsu from watching his movies over and over and over. We just started to memorize the moves and copy them. Our… dad didn't actually teach us anything in person.”

“No?” Splinter tilted his head curiously.

“No. In fact, he tried to ban all forms of it in the lair until we turned ten. Then he just accepted that it was gonna happen anyway, and it was better he knew about it than us try to sneak it. I mean, it literally ran in our blood! And we were impressionable little hatchlings, so of course we were gonna copy the moves! We watched the movies on loop every day!”

“My sons lived and breathed all things martial arts when they were such an age. I started training myself when they were only six, and then I started training them when they were eight. Ten years of practice did them well to prepare for the Shredder. I could always give you a similar training session if you are feeling up to it.”

“OMIGOSH REALLY?!” Donatello practically tossed himself over the arms of the throne and fell at Splinter’s feet. “I WOULD BE SO—~JAZZED!~”Donatello scrambled back to his feet quickly, taking the rat’s hands in his and holding them tightly.

The pure joy in the young mutant made Splinter’s heart soar. “Well I am always happy to accept such an eager young student. But first, perhaps some Chamomile tea to calm your nerves while you tell me more of your father.”

“OH YES PLEASE!”

[rohad93]

Authority Online : Ch 1

 4:50 PM on a Friday

Just ten minutes left in the day and there was still a three inch stack of things sitting on her desk that needed her immediate attention.

Jaune ran her fingers through her once carefully combed, short, blonde hair with one hand and flipped through the deposition from her last session of court with the other. It was a fairly cut and dry case, the defense was merely dragging their feet and wasting her time. She grunted before sliding the offending documents back into their case and glancing up at her laptop as her email dinged almost simultaneously with her phone. 

A quick tap on the track-pad began opening up her email as she glanced down at her phone and grimaced the second she glimpsed her mother’s contact photo. She couldn’t ignore it forever, as much as she wished she could, but she could certainly put it off for a little while. 

Amber eyes instead turned to the now three new emails sitting in her inbox, two from clients and one from her assistant who chose that moment to step into her office, a tablet in one arm and quickly flicking at something on the screen.  

“Ms. Roche, I sent the contracts you wanted and scheduled your meeting for Monday morning so they can be signed.” She continued to tap at the tablet without even looking up.  

“I got them,” she mumbled almost distractedly as she quickly typed out a reply to the other two emails and downloaded the documents to her hard drive before closing the laptop and sliding it and the rest of the papers and various manilla folders on her desk into her bag before finally looking at her phone and opening her mother’s text.

‘Dinner will be at 6. Don’t be late.’     

Jaune rolled her eyes and sighed. She had forgotten about the dinner she had tentatively agreed to on Monday for no other reason than to get off the phone with the older woman so she could get some work done in peace.

 Honestly she had barely been listening as her mother had blabbered on about some show she was dying to go see and was unconsciously humming in agreement while reading through some paperwork when she had apparently agreed to dinner at her family’s estate. 

What she really needed to do was go home, order takeout and look over these files for her Monday meeting. She’d never hear the end of it though if she did. With another, more resigned sigh she stood from her desk and shouldered her bag, shutting and locking the drawers of her desk. 

This was her assistant's cue to look up from the screen she nearly had her pointed nose shoved against.   

"Goodnight, Daisy, I'll see you Monday." She nodded to her assistant as she walked out.

"Have a nice weekend, Ms. Roche." Her assistant's nasally, high pitched voice followed her into the hall.

"I wouldn't bet on it," she grumbled to herself as she stalked out to the elevator.. Hitting the ground floor button a little harder then she had intended. 

Dinner with her mother was the absolute last thing on her list of things she wanted to do this evening.

Especially with the kick her mother had been on for the past few months.

Apparently she had been single much too long, in her mother’s opinion, and had started trying to foist a random assortment of women on her at every social gathering, function and event they ever went to together anymore. It was becoming tiresome to say the least. 

She didn’t have time to date, even with two partners and about a dozen other lawyers beneath them, she had an ever-constant stream of work making its way onto her desk every week. 

True enough, she could assign a number of her cases to the more junior lawyers, but then she rarely got all the results she wanted. 

Perhaps she was a micromanager...

It got results though. 

In seven years she had turned her father’s successful practice into a proverbial giant in their field with a series of successful high profile cases. 

Ever since they had a constant inflow of cases and clients that did not leave her much of a social life. Which was her mother’s main complaint. 

How many times now had she watched her mother lay on the antique fainting couch in her drawing-room and lament her only child’s lack of a love life with the kind of over the top melodrama that one could expect from a retired cabaret dancer?

Several times that she could think of off the top of her head at this moment. 

Just last Tuesday, in fact.  

Tonight would probably be much of the same if she cared to wager on it.

She wasn’t against dating, but besides not having much time for it, it wasn’t as though she knew anyone who was worth even making the effort for. Certainly not the often, vapid women her mother had been trying to push onto her. 

Rich and affluent, but the kind of woman that Jaune knew she had nothing in common with. Most of their interests, like her mother’s, included spending all day at spas, and country clubs. Where her mother usually met them. Several she had run into at the opera. 

Something she couldn’t stand. 

She had a penchant for music and performing, as to be expected considering her mother’s influence on her as a child, but all opera did was give her a headache. 

When the elevator finally stopped, she walked quickly through the front lobby, glancing at her watch. 

The sight of the golden yellow Mercedes parked in her reserved spot on the ground floor of the parking garage made her relax a little as she pulled out her keys to unlock it. 

She tossed her bag into the backseat of the car and slid into the driver’s seat with a tired sigh.

She would bear dinner for the bare minimum she had to, but it certainly wouldn’t be with a grin.

~ ~ ~ 

By the time she managed to navigate the 5 o'clock traffic and pull up the gates of her grotesquely large childhood home it was only five till six. The large black, wrought iron gates with the stylized ‘R’ in the center swung open when she pulled up, allowing her to drive up the immaculately kept, two hundred yards up to the main house. 

The large, white, American colonial styled mansion had been large to start with but had been added onto several times over the last eighty years it had been in her family, resulting in a twelve thousand square foot, two-story, fifteen bedroom and twelve bathroom monstrosity that was much too large for the number of people that lived in it. Namely her mother and a handful of staff, some of which had been working on the estate since she was born. This didn’t even account for the land the house was sitting on.    

She mostly didn’t even notice the sprawling acreage all around her anymore, but she did notice the unfamiliar, black Ferrari, parked in the driveway next to her mother’s white Aston Martin.

Was someone else here for dinner?  

Her mother would have said if she had bought another car, and she knew the older woman well enough to know that she would never buy a car in any shade but stark white.    

Jaune frowned, her instincts telling her to just turn around and go home, but she swallowed them knowingly and put her car in park behind her mother’s before climbing out of the car and moving up the walk to the front door. 

She didn’t bother with knocking and let herself in. The foyer was empty but she could hear her mother’s cloying laughter from down the hall. 

Inhaling deeply through her nose she followed the noise till she found the woman in the drawing-room, sitting across the room in her favorite chaise lounge, smiling at the two people sitting across from her. A much older, balding man and a woman with long black hair, perhaps around her own age. 

The man, even from the back, she recognized as an old friend and previous business partner of her father’s. The woman though was not familiar. 

It was at that moment that Blanche Roche happened to glance up and spot her daughter standing in the hall. 

“Jaune! We’ve been waiting for you.” She smiled, clapping her hands together, prompting the guests to turn and look at her. 

“Jaune, how good it is to see you again.” The man smiled brightly and walked around the couch to stick out his hand, which she grabbed more out of reflex than anything.

“You as well. I didn’t know we were having guests this evening...” Eyes flickered to her mother who was smiling coyly at her.  

“Ah, Well, we happened to run into your mother at the club this afternoon and she was kind enough to invite us to dinner, which reminds me, I don’t think you’ve ever met my daughter, Alice.” He held out an arm as the woman who had been sitting on the couch came around to shake her hand. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” The woman smiled.

“Dear, Alice here has been planning a trip to Spain, perhaps you could tell her about some of the things you did when you went last year,” Blanche suggested and Jaune immediately caught onto her mother’s game.

This was a setup.

She kept a carefully neutral look on her face even as she seethed inside at this ambush.

It was at that moment that her mother’s favorite maid, Penny, a tall, thin woman who kept her light colored hair in tightly coiled buns on the sides of her head, walked into the room to announce that dinner was ready to be served. 

Their guests followed her to the dining room, allowing Jaune to glare at her mother from across the room before having to follow. 

~ ~ ~ 

The next hour seemed to drag by for Jaune as her mother made not so subtle attempts to create some kind of connection between her and this woman that just did not exist. 

Her answers were short and to the point. Verging on curt, but just shy. Not shy enough if the looks her mother was sending her were any indication. 

 It took everything she had not to sigh in relief when they announced they needed to be going. They walked them to the front door, saying their goodbyes before walking out.  

Alice stopped in the door just long enough to turn to Jaune and hold out a business card with her number on it., which she took.

“When you have time we should get together again.” She smiled before walking out the door. Jaune glanced down at the card.

“Well, you were perfectly surly, this evening.” Her mother’s annoyed tone cut the silence. 

“I don’t appreciate being ambushed.” She turned to her mother with a scowl. “Did you plan this all week?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” she scoffed, turning on heel and walking to her study, Jaune following, stalkingly, right behind her. “I ran into them today and thought it was a good opportunity.” She tossed a hand flippantly as she sat at her desk and reached for the decanter of brandy sitting on the desk and poured herself a glass.   

“That you tactfully did not mention to me.” Amber eyes glared into black ones for a long moment before Blanche sighed, resigned at being caught red handed in duplicity. 

“It was just one dinner, dear.” She picked up the glass and swirled the liquid around. “You act as though I had planned an entire wedding.” 

“If you could I’m sure you would.” Jaune snorted, crossing her arms.

“I’m only trying to help…,” she started.

“I don’t need help!” Jaune snapped, making her mother’s eyes widen a fraction. She sighed and closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose in a vain attempt to warn off the headache she could feel coming on. When the tightness finally receded somewhat she opened her eyes to look at her mother.

“We have talked about this several times, and I know you just want me to be happy, but I’m perfectly fine as I am now, mother,” she assured, though it was said in a level tone, there was certain pointedness to the words.

Blanche looked at her for a long, quiet moment before sighing tiredly, seemingly more to herself. 

“I know you are, Jaune, but fine and happy are not the same thing,” she said before finally lifting the brandy filled glass to her lips and taking a deep drink.

~ ~ ~ 

It was only when she was home, sitting in front of her laptop in her home office and nursing a large glass of wine after a near boiling shower that she cared to think about what her mother had said. 

She could, grudgingly, admit that while she wasn’t unhappy, that didn’t mean she was happy either.

She was…content, perhaps would have been the right word.

Content could be improved, of course, she’d just never really cared to try. Though it was now becoming apparent that if she didn’t put in some kind of effort, even minimal, she was going to continue to be ambushed at dinners. She drummed her fingers on the wooden desktop, nails clicking on the high polished surface.   

Where would she even start, it had been a while, and she was short on time most days, not even mentioning that bars and clubs had never been her style to start with.

She glanced at her computer for a long moment and took a long drink before setting the glass down and tapping the screen, bringing the device to life. She hesitated only a moment before she opened the browser and typed.

‘Online dating’  

Several hundred pages popped up, making her grimace and take another long drink. 

She scrolled through about half a page, unimpressed with the majority of the offerings. 

Especially Tinder.

She was about ready to close the computer and walk away when one website happened to catch her eye, if for no other reason then the bizarre name.

‘The Authority: Online dating for adult professionals’ 

Curiously, she clicked the link. 

It had a similar look to some of the other dating sites she’d seen before but perhaps more streamlined and with less frills, not that she was going to pretend to be an expert on web design, dating or otherwise.

It touted a large user base of professionals all over the world and a superior matching algorithm. She rolled her eyes, scrolling through the front page. 

With a final sigh she clicked the signup and started filling out the various questions. Height, weight, hobbies, the standard affair. If nothing else, the next time her mother inevitably brought this up she could tell her that she was at least making an attempt.

It took her longer than she cared to admit to find some photos of herself that were both recent and not dressed for trial, though she added one in anyway. The other two, her on the beach and in the markets in Spain last year.

It wasn’t a vacation, it was work, but they had finished a couple days early and Daisy had convinced her to do some sightseeing. 

She couldn’t off the top of her head think of the last time she had traveled that wasn’t for work purposes. 

Putting that aside for now, she finished putting in her personal information and moved on to the questions about what she was looking for.

She was relieved to see the women seeking women option. She remembered all too well when all the lawsuits had been going on against a popular dating site that had adamantly refused to cater to any sort of LGBTA clientele. 

She’d considered taking some of the cases at the time, but had been swamped with other things at the time.

Clicking the right box and selecting her desired age range and city before it finally took her to her newly created profile and prompted her to write a short bio.

She quickly typed out a short paragraph, just the basic information, her profession, where she went to school and a few random tidbits about herself. 

The screen began to buffer before a message popped up.

‘Congratulations, your profile is complete! Now send some messages!’

“Not tonight…” She shut the computer and stood, taking her wine with her as she flicked off the light and closed the office door behind her.

[duckseamail]

Break It - a short story

Here’s the short story I wrote for my english class!!! It’s about 2.5 k words, and kinda sad (it has a nice ending though!!!). I’m really happy with how it turned out, and would love any feedback!

Winona’s bangs are plastered to her forehead, rainwater sprinting its way past her eyes and over her lips. Her shoes slap on the saturated gray pavement.

Half a block away, she can see the faint glow of the porch lights from her apartment building. She grabs the edges of her raincoat tightly, hoping it's still wholly spread over her backpack, and sprints through the puddles and up to the front walk. Unfortunately, her face is assaulted with a smack by the large, unkempt bush that she can avoid on a good day. 

With a fierce kick at the stoop, Winona pushes into the small entryway.

She makes her way through the second pair of doors and goes to the stairwell. With a sigh, she starts the trek up to the seventh floor.

When she reaches her floor, she crinkles her nose in disgust. The thin carpet is thoroughly soaked and gathering little puddles of muddy water from all the people who have been coming in during the late afternoon downpour. 

She gets to her door and puts the key in the lock. It sticks a few times before finally, with much cursing and trying to force the locked door open, the locking mechanism catches and smoothly turns. Winona glares at the key as she pulls it out and enters her home. 

“Yeah...yeah, waiting for the rain to clear out next week sounds do-able.” A voice coming from the kitchen says.

Winona slips her soggy tennis shoes off and into the wicker basket by the door. She should ask her mom to take her to get some new rainboots soon.

“I actually did have a couple questions about the burial to ask you, Mr. Moro.”

Winona is about to hop past the square of harsh white light illuminating the hall when an arm shoots out in front of her. Busted. Mom is still on the phone with Mr. Moro, but the way her mouth is pursed conveys the “stay there and wait for a conversation” perfectly fine without words.

Mom walks around the small kitchen as she talks. She grabs a large, pink and green mug from the rack next to the sink. Winona watches as she takes out the ceramic jar labeled “calm” in a flowing cursive script and places a teabag from it into the empty mug.

“Thanks again for your time; I’ll call you soon.” Mom hangs up. Neither of them says anything.

The high, screaming whistle of the teakettle breaks the momentary silence.

Winona wishes she’d had time to change out of her wet clothes before having this conversation. The cold and sticky feeling of the bottoms of her jeans clinging to her ankles is almost as bad as the fact that her socks are basically little swimming pools. Rivulets from her hair drip over her ears and down her neck, soaking into the shirt collar.

“I got an email from your math teacher this afternoon,” Mom says

Winona ignores the insinuation that she should be explaining herself about now and asks, “What did it say?”

Her Mom’s hands tighten around her mug, and an angry flush breaks out high on her cheekbones. She seems to be so overcome that she can’t speak, so Winona unzips her dry backpack and pulls out the failed test and hopes it will explain itself and she can leave.

“Here,” she says, handing it over.

Mom sets down her mug with a dull thunk and takes the papers.

After a minute spent flipping through them, she says, “You said you spent all of last weekend studying for this.” Mom brings a hand up and rubs across her forehead that’s lined with tired wrinkles and fixes Winona with a disappointed sort of glare. 

“Yeah, well. I tried for a bit. But it’s not like anyone else cared about this test either, okay?” Winona says flippantly. She bites the edge of her hair, then continues speaking around it. “It just wasn’t the sort of test you’re supposed to study for.”

“What do you mean the sort of test you don’t study for?!” Mom asks incredulously. Her voice is creeping up, louder and louder. “You need to take responsibility. What would your grandma have to say about this if she were here?”

“ I am taking responsibility!” Winona shouts, her hair falling entirely out of her mouth and smacking her jaw.

“Obviously, you’re NOT!”

“You don’t even know how to organize a funeral! How can you talk about responsibility?” Winona yells back. All of a sudden, the frustration in her mom’s brown eyes freezes over. 

“Just. Just go.” Mom says, seething. She turns her back and dumps her over-steeped tea into the sink.

Rage at this icy dismissal floods through Winona’s blood and exits in a strangled roar. Before Mom can say anything back, she spins on her heel, storms out of the kitchen, down the short hall, and into her bedroom.

Winona grips her heavy wooden door with as much strength as she can muster and slams it closed.

“WE DON'T SLAM DOORS IN THIS HOUSE!” Mom shrieks from where Winona left her in the kitchen.

“I DON’T CARE!”

Her ears ring, and she flicks the overhead light on, only to turn it back off immediately. Though the anger simmering in her body is no longer boiling over, the bright light is too cheerful. The lightning that flashes through the window, however, is perfect.

Balling her hands up, Winona thrusts them under her arms in a half-pout half-hug and paces in circles. “This isn’t even a house. It’s an apartment.” She mutters snarkily to herself. She considers opening the door to send the comment her mom’s way but decides to keep stewing on it. She can come up with something better.

On her fifth lap around, her eyes catch on her grandmother's glass figurine, sitting primly on her cluttered desk.

It’s of a young woman lying back on a log, propping herself up on her elbows. Her tiny glass face looks up with a beautiful expression of wonder; the clear eyes seem to see everything and hold infinite wisdom. They’re surrounded by minuscule eyelashes that look too fluffy to be glass. The woman’s smooth glass lips are parted like she’s just seen something she needs to share immediately (more than once throughout her life, Winona had spoken to it in the hopes that maybe one day it would talk back). The woman’s hair is long and curls gently, sitting lightly over the figure’s shoulders and bouncing a few centimeters above the top of the log.

But Winona’s favorite thing about the glass figurine isn’t her face. It’s the sloping curves of the carved dress. It folds softly down to the ankles, each sweep lined with small creases, and the hem is covered in miniature flowers. The back fabric of the dress drapes over the log's rough ridges in a fantastic clash of textures. The sense of fluidity changing into firm resolve, the cracks and knots carved into the log holding strong. It knows exactly what it is; no room for doubts. It’s a log, each uncountable twist and turn working together to hold up the woman on top of it.

It’s fitting, though, because Winona’s Grandma Helen had gotten it the day she graduated college. Winona had been told the story of her family’s most prized possession many times. It was her favorite thing to do as a kid when Grandma came to visit. She and Mom would take turns telling the story, and when it was done, Winona always begged to hear it again.

Winona’s great-grandfather had been an extremely old-fashioned man and hadn’t been willing to help send her grandma to college. It had caused a massive fight between them that ended with Grandma leaving and vowing to only come back with a diploma in hand.

So, she’d left and spent the time working towards a degree in American history.

On the day of Helen’s graduation, she’d gone home to see her parents. Now, Grandma had kept in contact with her mother, but just like she had promised, this was Helen’s first time in years seeing her father again. 

He’d been sad and apologetic, begging for his daughter’s forgiveness. Apparently, there had been tears shed on both sides. And, of course, Grandma had missed her father desperately, and once she received an apology, she was quick to forgive him.

But an apology wasn't all Grandma had received. Her father also wished to congratulate her on her achievement in college. So he'd commissioned an artist to create a glass figurine of a young woman lounging on a log, looking ahead to the possibilities before her. It was based on a picture he had of Helen just before their fight, which made it all the more special.

Then, when Mom was a little kid, Grandma had given it to her. Mom brought it with her to every place she’d ever lived.

And finally, after a childhood spent pestering about when it would finally be her turn, Winona was given it for her sixteenth birthday just over seven months ago. 

Winona snaps from the torrent of memories to thunder booming. She takes a few steps up to her desk and runs her fingertips over the skirt of the dress.

Mom often comes into Winona’s room just to sit and look at it for a while - never touching - a habit that’s increased in the past few weeks since Grandma died.

She must find it comforting.

The thought of her mother feeling anything but sadness and pain swirls her remaining anger into a tempest. She wants her mom to hurt, to regret what she said about the stupid test.

Her head and her heart ache, and she wants her mom to feel that.

So, Winona wraps her hand around the glass figure and picks it up.

It’s surprisingly heavy for how delicate it looks, but Winona pitches for softball in the spring and has a good arm. She faces the plain door that Mom had just yelled at her about slamming and takes aim.

One of the ridges on the log catches against her palm as the figurine launches into the air. She doesn’t feel the cut, though.

The figurine tumbles over and over in the six feet it has to travel to hit the door, glinting a bit in the dark room. Adrenaline rushes through Winona’s brain, and with a crash, it collides.

The log bursts apart, tiny glass crystals falling like snow to the carpet. The young woman’s head breaks off and drops down in three chipped and scratched pieces. The body, surprisingly, is comparatively intact. The arms are gone, shattered among the carpet fibers; the dress's light folds are broken off, and there are deep cracks along the front. There is a large chunk missing from the upper back where the shoulders used to be. But, when Winona looks at where the body of the figurine rests, she can tell that it had once portrayed someone sitting.

And for a moment, standing and looking over the wreckage, calm and satisfaction is all she feels.

Then, the reality sinks in. Her mom’s, her grandma’s, her most special possession is gone. Winona broke it, and from the way it’s spread out over the floor, it can’t be fixed.

It feels like all the air has been knocked out of her. Winona opens her mouth, but she can’t tell if any sound comes out. It’s like all her senses are covered in a staticky fuzz.

Suddenly, her bedroom door flings open, knocking aside some of the larger pieces of glass.

“Are you okay? What hap-” Mom cuts herself off abruptly, and Winona wrenches her gaze up from the floor.

Mom’s eyes are fixed at her feet. Her mouth wobbles around words that die before making it out. Winona watches the tears drip down her mother’s cheeks, and everything feels terribly wrong. This shouldn’t be happening.

“Mom,” Her throat clenches, stopping her. She tries again. “Mommy, I- I didn’t mean- I’m-”

Her mom turns and leaves the room. The door is still wide open, and light from the hallway dances among the shards.

Winona finally notices her own sobbing. She isn’t sure how she missed it before because everything about her face feels wet. Her eyelashes are clumpy, and there is no break in the water streaming down her face. It goes past her nose, collecting snot on the way, and then parts. Some tears fall off her chin, and others collect in her mouth, coating her tongue with the taste of salt.

Slowly, she takes a blanket from her bed and curls up under it on the floor. Wiping her nose with her sleeve, Winona waits for the crying to stop.

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

She wakes up to a pounding headache and a hand softly shaking her shoulder. Winona shifts the blanket off her face and sees Mom peering down at her.

Arms carefully reach around Winona’s shoulders and lift her so that she’s perched on the edge of her bed. Her clothes are removed and replaced with warm, dry pajamas. They’re the fluffy, purple polka-dotted ones - her favorite.

A plastic cup of water is pressed into her hands, and she takes grateful gulps of it ‘till the cup is empty.

The bathroom sink across from her room turns on, and Winona realizes her mom has left again. It’s only briefly, however, and Mom comes back with a wet washcloth in hand.

Winona takes it when it’s held out and rubs the sticky, overwhelming feeling of dry tears off her face. The water is warm and soothing, and even after she's clean, she takes an extra moment to press the cloth to her worn-out eyes.

She hands it back, and Mom places it on the bedside table before taking Winona’s right hand in hers. Winona wonders why she’s doing this when she notices a sharp red line crossing most of her palm. A throbbing heat is building there, but quick as a flash, her mom wipes a soaked cotton pad over it and then rubs on a layer of cooling antiseptic. Lastly, she places two large bandages over the entirety of Winona’s palm. Then, Mom helps her stand up.

Walking across the room into the now dark hallway, she realizes all the glass on the floor is gone. Mom must have taken the time to thoroughly clean up every last shard and speck while she was sleeping. Winona isn’t sure why, but as she’s walked over to her mom’s bedroom, she wishes she had been able to clean it up. It was her mess, after all.

But, her brain is moving too slowly to think up the words to best express that out loud, and moments later, she’s being herded onto one side of her mom’s bed.

The digital clock blinks at her. It’s 9:53 at night. Mom tucks the covers securely around Winona’s shoulders.

“I’m so sorry, Nony. We’ll fix things in the morning, okay?” Mom’s voice is hoarse when she says this, but the time for thinking is over now. Winona nods her head sleepily in reply and closes her eyes for the night.