#yes that's meant to be Elizabeth on the center left

[emthejedichic]

Moodboard for my Velvet Goldmine fanfic, The Man Who Sold The World (also on SquidgeWorld). I never made a moodboard before, I think it turned out pretty good!

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

Was aaron ehasz wife a zutarian or is it just made up

Do you think the comics and lok are so messed up because aaron is misding or was it a great team work of all of them 3

I don't know what Elizabeth's thoughts on the ship, assuming she had any, but I know she wrote The Southern Raiders and I think on the script she did use the word "zutara" instead of saying "Zuko and Katara" during one of the action scenes. It does not surprise me if people took it as confirmation that she liked the ship, and who knows, maybe they're right.

She wouldn't be the first writer on the team she said she liked it - it's surely way more believable than the idea that Aaron was fighting to make Zutara a thing but evil Bryke stepped in, like it was in the infamous "interview" zutarians still quote even though he has repeatedly said that shit is fake.

While I think Aaron was a part of why the original show worked so well, and his job as lead-writter meant he had a HUGE impact in it, it's not fair to pretend he was the only one who truly mattered. Bryke were the ones to come up with the very concept of the show and they were pretty heavily involved in it, and the other writers (like his ex wife) deserve credit too for developing the story. And we gotta remember, Aaron also approved of bad parts of the show. Nobody is perfect.

So no, I don't think he alone could have saved the comics or Korra - especially since Bryan and Mike would still have the final say on the matter and they were clearly more than okay with all the awful creative decisions that ruined these projects, including letting Yang project his daddy issues onto Zuko's plot, accidentally reverting his character to the point that I'd argue he became WORSE than pre-redemption Zuko.

I consider both the comics and Korra to be bad storytelling - that had POTENTIAL to be good. It's why you have little moments of good writting, or funny bits, or even good ideas that were simply not handled well but are not inherently bad. Hell, the newest Azula comic was THE best thing we got since the original show, and not in a "it's the best of terrible content" way but in a "this is genuinely good and mostly coherent" way.

Is it possible that maybe Aaron would have noticed some, or maybe even ALL of the major issues with the comics and Korra? Sure. And is it possible that maybe he could have made Bryke change their mind about SOME of the things they were about to give the greenlight to? Yes.

But that's the issue. MAYBE he'd notice. Or maybe he wouldn't. MAYBE he'd do a good job of explaining it to the people calling all the shots. Or maybe he wouldn't.

There's too many maybes to say "Aaron would have made the comics and Korra be great." Personally, I'd say he would have at most made them decent, but not genuinely great like the original show because his presence/abscense is not the ONLY factor that changed.

He was not the only one who left and there were new people around. And nearly 20 fucking years have passed. Aaron changed, Bryke changed, everybody changed. Putting all the old team in the same room is impossible because they're not the same people they were in 2005.

And in my opinion there's another factor here: while ATLA still had storylines that could be turned into a sequel show/comics (what the hell happened to Ursa, what's gonna happen to Azula, how will the Gaang help rebuild a world that spent 100 years at war, is Toph ever going to confront her parents, the dropped idea for an episode centered on Aang's parents, etc) I just don't think Avatar could EVER be turned into this big franchise that keeps going on and on for decades that Bryke wants it to be.

First they made the mistake of not giving that show the fourth season it clearly needed even though it fucked up the pace of book 3, and now they're making the mistake of not letting the story end even when they don't seem to have anything left to say. Ehasz can't fix that.

[olsenmyolsen]

1985

Part 24 of On The Inside With Elizabeth Olsen

Word Count: ~8.7K

masterlist

TW: Suicide, Abuse

Y/N POV

On the drive to my mom's, I filled her in on everything that's happened. It wasn't easy, and I didn't want to, but we're in the process of keeping our relationship in a good place, so being honest with her is what I got to do.

She bit her tongue as much as possible, but she let one "bitch" slip through. It honestly made me chuckle. However, by the time we pulled into her gated apartment complex, she let me know how sorry she was for me and how she wished Lizzie would've been better.

Me too.

"Do you love her?" My mom asked as we passed the gates.

"I do."

"I'm just going to say this one thing." Oh boy. "Talk to her and if you still love her after that then it's meant to be."

I decided to say nothing as my mom pulls into a parking spot, I look around and remember I haven't been here. She moved into this apartment complex last year after.. everything.

"Looks.. cute!" I say as my mom opens the trunk so that I can get my belongings. "Yeah, it's great. Sometimes it gets too rowdy, but what can you do." My mom says as she hands me my bags, closing the trunk before we head toward her door.

My mom is on the ground/first floor of apartment building number two. Its exterior color is maroon with dark browns. As we walk into the exterior hallway towards her door, my mom turns to me since she sees me in thought.

"You okay, dear?" I look down at my mom and put on a smile. "Just taking it in." My mother nods and leads me to her door.

216.

Elizabeth Chase Olsen's birthday and my mom's apartment number.

What the fuck.

I look down at her doormat and laugh on the inside. Partly because of how fucked up the universe is right now and because of the stupid saying on the dumb doormat.

"Wipe your paws."

She doesn't even own a pet. What is she on about?

Once my mom finally unlocks her door, she gestured for me to enter, but we are stopped when her neighbor's door opens, and out walks a tall older gentleman. He's got salt and pepper hair, a clean, shaved face, and appears to be in good health.

"Laurie! I thought I heard you!" The older man steps out from his door frame and enters the hallway. "Shouldn't you be at work?" I look over to my mom, whose body has become relaxed as she smiles at the man.

"Nick! Hello yes! I did have to work, but I called off when my daughter here made a surprise visit home!" The man briefly brings his attention to me before glancing at my mother. "Daughter?" My mom places an arm around me. "Yes! Nick, this is my daughter Y/N!" Nick's face lights up as he steps forward and places a hand out. "So lovely to meet you." I shake the man's hand. "Nice to meet you, Nick." Nick throws his arms up. "Just like I told your mother, it doesn't matter what you call me. Nick, Nicholas, or Nikolai, I'll be fine with."

A genuine smile appears on my face as I'm reminded of the first time I met Davey.

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind." Nick nods with a smile before he notices my bags. "Do you two need any help with the rest?" My mother shakes her head. "We got it all but thank you."

"Not a problem. I'll leave you two to it. It was a pleasure to meet you, Y/N." With a smile and a thoughtful look at my mom, Nick walks back to his door, but before going in, he gives a cheerful wave before closing the door behind him.

I look at my mom, who still has her eyes on Nick's door before she blinks and focuses on her own open door. "Let's get you inside," she says, utterly oblivious to the fact that I was watching her and already wanting to be inside.

With the door close, my mom locks it as I take in her apartment. As soon as you walk in, to your right is my mom's black leather couch lining the wall until it hits the next wall. On that wall is the porch door. However, claiming that the little area is a porch is a bit of a stretch. Anyway, in front of the couch is her black wooden coffee table and entertainment center.

To the left of the door is her dining room table and kitchen. Nothing too remarkable aside from the fact that she seems to have newer appliances that stand out from the rest of the kitchen.

Straight from the door is a short hallway with a hidden laundry room and a guest bathroom. The first bedroom door you encounter is the main bedroom. While you have to turn down the hall, you reach the guest. The main bedroom closet also connects to the bathroom, so score one for mom.

"What do you think?" My mom asks me, as my mind has already looked over everything.

"I think it looks.." I take one more quick look around, but I stop as my eyes fall onto a picture she has on a table near the kitchen. It's a picture of when my mom, Davey, and I when we went to see Taylor Swift perform at Bridgestone Arena. I remember my mom talking about how the opening act was clearly talented but didn't have the looks.

She was talking about Ed Sheeran.

"..it looks like it suits you, mom," I say with a smile as I turn my head away from the picture.

"Well, did you let all your friends know you're home and safe?"

"Yep. Already did that." My mom looks over at me and smiles. "Great. I'll show you the guest room." My mom leads me down the hall and into the guest room. It's pretty barebones since my mom is the only one that lives here, so there's only like one dresser and an end table next to an air mattress. My mother watches as I look around the room. She keeps doing this, and I know it's because, like everyone else, she's worried about me.

I set my bag and suitcase down next to the air mattress and look at my mom. "Thanks, mom, for everything. I'm sorry to do this." My mom raises her hand and brings me into a hug. "My pumpkins home. Everything's okay." We exit the hug as my stomach makes an unbearable noise. I guess I forgot that I hadn't eaten since that one wimpy bagel earlier.

"What do you say we go out for a late lunch?"

"Okay." I simply say because my mind can only think about food right now.

_

We decided to head to a local Italian restaurant. It opened up in 1985 and it became a stable in this community. It's got those red plastic cups that somehow makes soda taste better and red picnic table covers, so you know this place is good.

Once we get seated, my mother excuses herself to the ladies' room and tells me that if someone comes by to take our order, she'd like a sweet tea and water with lemon. I rolled my eyes at how southern she can be sometimes.

It doesn't take long for me to find what I want to eat, so it's now a waiting game.

"Hey. Sorry I wasn't aware someone was seated in my section. What can I get for you?" A tall, curly brunette woman finally comes to the table. As she talks, she is rummaging around her pockets, looking for a pen. Her voice is oddly familiar.

Unsure of if I should wait or not, I decide to pull the trigger and order the drinks.

"Just two waters and a sweet tea with some lemons on the side. Please."

With a pen in hand, the waitress finally lifts her head, and I instantly know who this is.

Her name is Becca, and she was my first kiss after I figured out my sexuality in high school. Becca was more popular than I was, but she was nice. I was her first kiss with a girl, and the last I heard, she was dating a guy from around here. Yeah, ew, but she seems happy.

Her eyes glimmer with maybe a twang of remembrance for me, but that's quickly dismissed when she nods at me and tells me she'll be right back with my drinks.

Only a few more moments of silence pass before my mom finally rejoins me, with Becca following soon afterwards. Becca greets my mom for the first before she looks over at me and winks. Winks? What the fuck does that mean?

"Dear." My mom's voice pulls me out. "Hmm?" Becca quietly laughs at my confusion while my mom glances at me. "I said, are you okay with mozzarella sticks as an appetizer?"

"Yeah, sure," I say before taking a sip of water to save myself. Plus, the mozzarella sticks sound terrific. Yeah, I've had greasy food as of late, but I tried to cut back and eat healthier when I was with Li- Elizabeth. I know she wouldn't have judged me or anything, but I just wanted to be my best for her. But that seems so stupid now. The second the world finds out about us, she bails. Whatever. I'm so going to enjoy these fucking grease sticks.

Becca asks if we're ready to order, and my mom goes ahead with her order. When it's my turn, Becca looks at me with such focus. After ordering my Blacken Chicken Alfredo, Becca takes our menus and heads off.

"Do you know that girl?"

"We went to high school together," I say as casually as possible.

Thankfully my mom doesn't question every little thing about Becca as she normally would. I think after Elizabeth, my mom is taking a step back and giving me space which I greatly appreciate.

"So.." I start an incomplete thought. Why is it so hard talking to your parents? Is it just me? Like, I love the woman that birthed me so much but God, trying to have a normal conversation with her feels like pulling teeth. Which if you like that, you're sick.

"Anything new at work?" God, what a boring question. My mom is the head catering manager for the business offices of all the major hospitals around the Nashville area. She's been in the food industry for more than half her life.

My mom nods her head and begins to tell me about something and something else. I feel bad for not listening, but I can't. I'm sorry.

But my mind isn't turned off for too long as Becca finally comes around with the mozzarella sticks. "Do you two need anything else in the meantime?" Becca looks to my mom and me. I shake my head no as my mother does the same. Becca nods at us. "Your entrees should be out shortly." We thank her as she leaves.

"She's cute." Oh no. Mom, please stop while you're ahead. My mom looks to me for a response, but I shove a grease stick into my mouth before I manage to say anything embarrassing. So I offer a shrug as the scolding hot cheese burns the inside of my mouth.

_

We manage to make small talk between us before our entrees get placed onto our table.

God, I love Italian food.

Becca offers us extra cheese, which I stupidly accept. "Great," Becca says with a smile as she moves closer to my side of the table. "Tell me when Y/N." She says with a playful tease in her voice. Fuck she remembers me. I look up at her face to see it resting with a smirk. Real Scarlett move there. Her eyes move to meet mine.

In an instant, I'm transported back to high school, and I'm sitting across from her pulling her body into a kiss.

With a blink of my eyes, I'm back to looking at her with an eyebrow raised.

"When." I manage to say without looking at my plate.

"Enjoy," Becca says, her eyes never leaving my body.

I don't dare to watch Becca's body as it walks away from me; instead, I bring my eyes to my plate of pasta. I take a glance at my mom, who is on her phone, too busy to realize what just transpired.

_

As my stomach starts settling from the food, my mom gets up again to use the restroom. She claims she pees so much because of her new medication. If you ask me, she's just getting older. But I digress.

I pull my phone out and decide to catch Max up on what's been happening with my mom. She's happy for her and claims I must set my mom up with Nick. I kindly tell her to fuck off and start to ask her about Sam and Ivy when a particular waitress walks up to my table.

"So here's the bill. Is there anything else I can get for you?"

I shake my head no and thank Becca for being so great today. Becca smiles kindly and goes to step away but stops herself.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" I set my phone down on the table to give her my full attention. "Sure."

"Do you remember me from high school?" I tilt my head a little in confusion because, yeah, I thought that was obvious. "Because earlier I said your name, and you didn't react that much so I wasn't sure if-"

"I remember." I smile as I cut her off. I watch relief wash over Becca as she becomes more relaxed.

"Okay, good. So what are you doing back here? Last I heard, you went to Syracuse, right?" I nod at her correct question. "Yep. I'm back home. But just visiting." I say as if that's fact.

"Well, how nice. Your mom is very sweet. We don't see her much around her, but she and Nick are very kind."

Nick? My mom comes here with Nick?

"Oh." I mean to say more, but nothing comes out.

Becca quickly looks over to the restroom area before bending down next to me. "Is it true?"

I have a feeling I know what she's asking. "Is what true?" I say back in a ruder tone than I meant.

Becca's eyes fill with regret as she shoots back up to a standing position. "Sorry, I shouldn't have-" "No, Becca, I'm sorry-" "No, it's fine. I'll be back to collect your choice of payment." Becca walks away with guilt before I could say anything and apologize for my tone.

And, of course, now my mom chooses to exit the bathroom and return to our table. My mom sits down across from me and is none the wiser. "Oh, I see someone doesn't feel like paying." My mom teases me, seeing that I didn't bother looking at the bill. I put on a fake smile as she grabs her purse and searches for her wallet.

By the time she places the card down, Becca is ready to pick it up. "I'll take just one moment." Becca leaves without looking at me. God, I can't take another person avoiding me, thinking it's for their good. Or my good. Or whoever's! Agh!!

"Excuse me." I get up, leaving my mother alone at the table as I follow Becca back to her little waitress's kitchen display area. You know that little screen they use in the corners of restaurants?

"Becca." She looks behind her, a little shocked to see me with her. "Y/N! What are you doing?" "I'm sorry my tone was all off. Yes, it's true. Whatever you've heard about me is probably true. I just don't want to talk about it. Why do you think I'm here." Becca looks at me as I word vomit, and she doesn't smile or look surprised. Instead, she looks at me with pity. Is that worse?

"I shouldn't have probed. I'm sorry, Y/N." She pulls me into a quick hug before we're both awkwardly standing around.

"I'm going to slide your mom's card now.." She points to the operating system earning a laugh from me, which in turn causes her to smile. I nod and head back to the table.

My mom doesn't make a peep or look at me in any way to indicate she knew what just happened. Instead, I see a smile on her from the corner of my eye.

Seconds later, Becca returns with the bill and two copies of the receipt. "Thank you both so much for coming in here today. I'm glad you enjoyed it." My mother positively responded as she began leaving a nice tip for Becca.

Becca makes sure to smile at my mom before turning her gaze to me. In her hand, I see her set a napkin down at the edge of the table before she waves at me and turns, walking away.

I snag the napkin and open it up, revealing Becca's phone number and a little note.

In case you ever want to talk about anything else besides New York. - B.

I bring my head and try to search for her, but I don't see her.

"Ready?" My mom brings me back down to Earth. I nod and thank her once again for lunch.

_

My mom and I enter her apartment without an interruption from Nick. Shame honestly. I was kind of hoping I'd get the chance to see him and my mom interact. Like, are they friends? Or?

"So dear, what would you like to do now?" My mom has always been a go go go kinda of lady. She needs a plan and to always be doing something. You can see why I'm more go-with-the-flow. Remember how she reacted when she caught me just watching Godzilla?

I bring my phone out of my pocket and see that it's only the early afternoon. I guess I was hoping it was later, or maybe I feel like it is because my eyes are becoming tired. Quickly.

"I think I'm going to nap if that's alright?" I sheepishly ask my mom. Under normal circumstances, she would probably tell me no and force me to go out and do something with her, but today she nodded and said, "It'll give me time to fill out some orders. Have a good nap, dear." With a smile on my tired face, I made my way to the guest room. My room and plopped myself down on the air mattress. Sleep is rapidly approaching.

_

Liz POV

It's been hours, and I have yet to move from Y/N's dining room table.

I keep rereading every single word on the pages in front of me. I keep flipping past Rocket Man, hoping for the Goodbye message to be there. Hell, a part of me is hoping she'll come through the door and- and... I don't know.. apologize? Kiss me? Let me tell her how sorry I am.

Instead, I'm sat here waiting. My body is becoming sore from the position I'm in, but I deserve this. I planned on sitting here for longer afraid that if I move, what's already real would actually be real. However, a knock at the door makes me move. But when I open the door, it's someone new to me.

Brunette hair. Bangs. About my height. Blue eyes that are covered by her glasses. She smiles at me, almost shocked. "You-you're Elizabeth Olsen-n." Great, someone found Y/N's address. The anger in me building back up from the last 24 hours plus. "And who the hell are you?" I snap at the younger woman. She goes to open her mouth, but nothing comes out. "You better be gone in the next two seconds before I call the cops," I say as I go to slam the door, but the brunette's arm stops me.

"I'm Sam!" She gets out in a panic.

"Sam?" Who the fuck is Sam? "Okay?" I eye her up and down but lightening my tone.

"I work- worked with Y/N. Is she here?" My anger subsides, and my body becomes lighter at the sound of Y/N's name. I eye Sam again before remembering Max talking about Sam one time. Yes, Sam! Sam went to the club with Y/N and Mary-Kate that one night! Okay!

"Sam," I say to the brunette, who shakes her head a little confused. "I'm sorry I didn't know what you looked like. I also wasn't expecting anyone here." I'm embarrassed at my previous outburst and now here I am rambling. Get it together, Lizzie.

"So, is Y/N not here?" Sam's face forms an upside-down smile. I shake my head no, making my own frown. "Do you want to come in?" I don't know why I asked Sam that, but it's too late now.

"Uh-h, okay." I open the door wider, allowing Sam to enter Y/N's place.

As Sam walked in, I watched her look around the small place. Her eyes glanced over the open journal, but they quickly darted away, which I was thankful for.

"It's cute," Sam said in just above a whisper. I thought she had been here before. Shit. Does she actually know Y/N? Is this the right Sam, or did I just let a stranger into her home with me?

Panic begins to fill my body as Sam turns towards me.

"It's nice to finally meet you." Sam extends her hand out, which I stupidly shake. "I'm trying to keep all my fangirling on the inside, but Oh My God! I can't believe it's you." Sam is practically bouncing with energy now, and I feel safer knowing she might be who she says she is. Am I overreacting?

I give her a small smile as our hands leave each other. Okay, time to grill her.

"So.." I start as I move to the dining room, closing the journal. Sam watches me with wide eyes. "When was the last time you saw Y/N?"

Sam answers me quicker than I thought she would. "Sometime last week."

Hmm. Vague.

"How long have you worked with- sorry, how long did you work with her?" My heart pulls out the use of the past tense. Sam's smile flattens at the sound of it as well. "We didn't work together long, but we did have a lot of shifts together. She was the first person to get to know me on my first day. We became fast friends." Sam says with a brand new smile on her face. I suddenly feel a little guilty, thinking that Sam might not be who they say they are.

"When was the last time you talked to her?"

"Umm." Sam hesitates as she stands in the middle of the apartment awkwardly. She sighs before finally meeting my eyes. She walks towards me, pulling her phone out of her pocket.

When she places the phone down in front of me, I see her and Y/N text back to one another.

Y/N/N 🤡 Yesterday 11:36 AM

Hey I tried calling you I saw you trending on Twitter? Are you okay? Where are you?

Oh my god, Y/N!

Y/N/N 🤡 Yesterday 2:16 PM

I'm at work but please let me know if you're okay Max hasn't heard from you..

Y/N/N 🤡 Yesterday 3:55 PM

Max just left work without saying anything. Y/N please tell me you're okay.

Y/N/N 🤡 Yesterday 8:38 PM

Hey Sam. I'm okay. I'm with Max and her girlfriend. I'm sorry if I worried you my phone was almost dead for most of the day and I didn't want to talk to anyone. Sorry. Again. Thank you for reaching out. If you don't hear from me in the next couple of weeks just know that I'm fine. Feel free to come to my place tomorrow. (Address) Take what you want.

Y/N/N 🤡 Yesterday 9:17 PM

Omg Y/N thank goodness you're okay. Please stop apologizing It's okay. I'll be sure to swing by. Take what I want? What does that mean?

Y/N

Y/N?

"I haven't heard from her since." Sam's careful voice breaks my eyes from the screen. "I was hoping she'd be here. Alive." Sam tried to slip that last word under the radar, but I heard it.

"Thank you for showing me," I say with a tear-filled smile.

"So you haven't seen here either, right?" Sam walks closer to me before sitting down at the dining room table as well. I shake my head no.

"Is it over?" I want to ask Sam what she means by that, but we both know. I don't want it to be. That's what I want to say.

"Yes." Is what I say instead.

Sam looks at me with pity. Pity I don't deserve. It's clear she doesn't know the whole story, and I don't plan on telling her. The least people that know, the better. Right?

Sam moves her gaze around the apartment again as silence fills the room. While my mind is spiraling over the words I've just read, I look at Sam and see her lost in her head. Her face morphs from sad to angry, and before I can move, silent tears start flowing from her.

"Sam.." I say softly before inching myself closer to the girl I just met. "Sam," I speak louder as I lay my hand on hers. Sam jumps back from the contact as she searches for the source of the touch. She quickly looks at me and then at our hands. I watch as her eyes go wide, and in an instant, she stands up, wiping at her face. Cheeks red with embarrassment.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry. Please forget you saw any of that." Sam begins spilling apologies after apologies. "Fuck." She whispers out.

I'm not going to lie. A small part of me wants to giggle at how embarrassed Sam became, but maybe that's my fucked up, exhausted body and emotions at work.

"Hey, it's okay. You're okay, Sam." I say as I stand up, following the girl pacing in Y/N's living room. Sam turns to me, her face looking a little less red. Her eyes work their way to my face. "Elizabeth.."

The full name, huh? 

"You don't think Y/N would.." Sam trails off, leaving me confused. "Y/N would what?" Sam breathes in and out before speaking up. "You don't think Y/N would not be here with us anymore?"

That thought hadn't crossed my mind once.

Maybe it's because, in my heart, I wanted to see her one more time. Maybe it's because I received a journal proving otherwise. Maybe I don't know... maybe just because it genuinely never crossed my mind.. So why did it happen for Sam?

"No. No. Not at all. She would never do that." I make sure Sam looks at me as I say this. Apart of me wants to show Sam the journal, but I don't. Instead, I let my words carry me above actions. "Sam, she would never leave us like that." Sam opens her mouth but closes it.

"Sam." I put a hand on her arm and push the both of us towards the couch. "Why would you think that?" I ask out of genuine curiosity and also out of anger. Why does she think that? Was there something more going on with Y/N than I realized? What if she did-

"I didn't mean to upset you." Once again, I look at the blue-eyed girl with confusion. "I'm not upset, Sam. I just.. I just never thought of that." Sam glances at me. "Trust me, Sam. I don't think Y/N would ever do such a thing. So once again, Sam. Why would you think that?"

"Y/N reminds me a lot of someone who.." Sam trails off again.

"What's was their name?" I carefully ask, hoping I'm making the right choice by doing so. Sam's body language doesn't change much, so maybe I am.

"Emily."

I smile at the sound of that name.

"Picture Y/N but with striking black hair and acute facial features. And slightly shorter." Sam says with a smile picturing what she's telling me. "Oh, and a midwestern accent." She offers a short laugh at that last part. "We grew up in a smaller town than most. And it's not like it was overly conservative or anything. It just still had its people set in their ways." I don't try and stop Sam, but I think she's talking without realizing it. "Her parents were those kinds of people." Sam wipes her hands on her jeans as she keeps going. "Her parents didn't accept her for who she is- was. That made life harder for her. High school also doesn't help at that age." I watch as Sam's mouth opens and closes. She keeps gathering her thoughts before abandoning them.

"I tried.. I tried to.. she took too many.."

Sam's now at a point where her lips are quivering, spitting out words through her closing throat. She's not crying, but God, I see her fighting those tears. Not knowing what to do for her, I pull her into my side. Letting us rest in silence until she's ready.

_

It wasn't long, but it was a little weird when Sam tried to leave my grasp.

She profusely apologized for "crying" in front of me again and trauma dumping onto me. I told her it was okay and that I didn't mind hearing her share.

What I didn't tell Sam was that the whole time she was in my arm, all I did was think of Y/N and what would happen to her now that she was gone. Not gone, but you know.

After a couple of minutes, Sam made the decision that it was time for her to go. I made sure to give her a friendly hug before asking her for her phone. She seemed a little nervous but acted appropriately when I told her she now had my number.

It's mainly so that if Y/N contacts Sam, I'll know, but it doesn't hurt that I told Sam that she could reach out to me when she needs to.

I also threatened Sam with a good ole Wanda head tilt and told her that if she ever sold this number or anything, she'd have to deal with me before the cops.

The look on her face was priceless.

With a goodbye to Sam and a locked door, I am now alone again in Y/N's place, knowing she won't be back.

So, where does that leave me?

Y/N POV

Why do air mattresses always lose air when you sleep on them? Every air mattress I've been on has a thousand tiny little holes that make the air escape by the time I wake up.

Anyways here I am, waking up on basically the floor in a dark room. I guess my nap lasted way longer than I meant for it to. I stumble my hand through the dark until I feel it bump my phone.

"Oh, Jesus." I groan into the room as my phone blinds my poor eyes.

I have a couple of missed texts from Sam. Along with a message in the twin's group chat. Basically, the twins were checking in with me. I told them all about my mom and the neighbor and lunch. Leaving out all the Becca stuff.

Sam's text was her checking in as well and her telling me she spoke to Elizabeth.

Wait, she spoke to Elizabeth? How? Why?

Why do I care? I don't.

But let me look at the text again.

"When to check on you, but you're already gone. Elizabeth is just as nice as she seems.. Look, Y/N, I don't know everything, but I can see the guilt in her eyes. Hope you're safe."

I should reply, but what would I say? I skim my eyes across the bright message again before exiting out of the app, choosing not to reply at all. I check the time, and shit, it's later than I thought.

I roll off the air mattress-covered floor and head straight to the bathroom to freshen myself up. After doing so, I make my way out into the living room to find my mom asleep on the couch next to her open work laptop. She's done this a lot in the past, so it's not a surprising sight. I make sure to save any work she may have open before closing the laptop. I notice a dirty dish on the floor next to the couch, so I assume dinner was recently had.

I bring the dish into the kitchen, quietly placing it in the sink before checking what was made for dinner—baked chicken and rice—very exotic mother. I'm not feeling very hungry, and I don't want to wake my mom up accidentally, so I opt out of that bland meal.

I'm not feeling tired at all, so going back to "bed" doesn't sound fun at all. Social media has been hell recently. My mom is in the living room passed out, so what's there to do? I put my phone on the kitchen counter in front of me as my right hand subconsciously works its way into my pocket.

Oh, hey, the napkin. I pull out and open said Italian napkin.

I could see what Becca's up to.

Fuck it, why not.

I make a contact for Becca and laugh to myself at the moniker I chose for her: 🇮🇹 Waitress. It's so diminishing. A few seconds later, I send my first text.

Hey Becca, it's Y/N I was wondering if you wanted to hang out?

I pathetically find myself staring at the phone, waiting for a reply. As the screen goes dim, that's when I see three dots pop up before nothing comes through.

Great. I let the phone go dark before opening the fridge again. Maybe I should go ahead and shove this chicken and rice down my th-

My phone lights up.

Hey! Sure. My place? (Address)

Just two friends hanging out. Friends hang out at each other's places all the time. Why not.

Fine by me.

I see the three dots pop up.

Leave your place in about 30. I have to take care of some things around the house.

I don't respond. Instead, I send her a thumbs emoji as if she was Max. Suddenly my body starts to become nervous. I decide to head to "my" room to find a new outfit and clear my head.

_

I'm here early.

I'm parked on the street opposite the address Becca gave me. The house, or should I say condo is a two-story building attached to another two-story condo. It looks small on the outside, but looks can be deceiving.

I send a text to Becca, letting her know I'm outside in my mom's car and that I blame it on my anxiety for being here early.

Seconds later, I get a text asking me to come on in. I looked up from the driver's seat to see Becca standing in the doorway. I give her a polite smile that I don't think she could see before exiting my mom's car.

I make my way up the bricked walkway before meeting her at the door. "Long time no see," Becca says to me as she opens the door allowing me to enter behind her.

As soon as you walk into the condominium, there is a set of stairs to your right and an entrance to the spacious kitchen to the left. Straight down the hall is a door to a bathroom and a dining room next to the kitchen. What surprised me was how the living room was down three steps at the end of the hall. And it was big. This place was different than how it looked from the street.

Once I'm inside, I take note of Becca's fit. Old ratty shirt and, grey sweatpants, black socks. I remove my shoes as she locks the door behind me. "Would you like anything to drink? I'm having wine tonight, but no pressure." She says with a playful smile.

"I'll take a glass." Becca disappears into the kitchen as I stand in the doorway, unsure of if I should follow or not. My eyes look over to the stairs that go up into the darkness. Curious to see what's up there, but Becca returns with a glass before I can make any bad choices. "Come on." I follow my old classmate into her living room. It's nice. Black leather couch with a dark wooden table in the middle to match. Across from it is a big flat screen playing Sing. Or at least that's what the title says; the movie has paused on an Elephant talking to another one.

"Is this how you spend most of your nights?" I ask, joining Becca on the couch. Not next to her, but close enough. "You'd be surprised," Becca says with a smile. "Have you seen it?" I shake my head no. "Oh my God! It's so good!" I laugh at how shocked Becca is acting. "Whatever you say." Becca takes a sip of her wine before realizing that my glass hasn't been filled up yet. "Oh shit. Sorry. Most nights, it's just me." She takes the glass filling it up before handing it to me. I take a sip letting the red liquid run down my throat. When the glass leaves my lips, I turn my head to Becca to see her looking at me.

"What?"

Becca appears to be embarrassed as she looks away. "Nothing." Well, now I'm intrigued. "What?" I ask again.

"It's just.." She sets her wine glass on the table and positions her body towards me. "I don't exactly hang out with or see anyone from high school. So that fact that you're here on my couch is.. I don't know.. a little weird." She says, almost unsure.

"Why would that be weird?"

Becca closes her mouth in thought.

"How come we didn't hang out a lot in high school?" Why do people always answer a question with a question?

"We hung out," I say, even though most of high school feels like a blur.

"But we never saw each other unless it was at school or a party that you would only show up one out of four times." I shrug my arms. What's there to say? I had different friends, and she was more popular. Like I said before, she was friendly and always tried to include me in stuff, but I was never up for it. "I don't know.." I reply, only to get back a "hmm" as she takes a sip from her glass. I do the same, sensing the mood shift.

"You remember our kiss?" She says, breaking the silence. I turn to her, a little shocked that she remembers the kiss. Becca is looking down her wine glass as I respond. "Yes." Becca looks up to me. "The second I saw you, it rushed back to me like an old forgotten memory."

"Me too." I smile at her.

"How did you do it?"

"Kiss you?" I ask, not knowing what she means, which makes her laugh. "No." She replies, still laughing. "How did you come out?"

"I just told my parents..?" Becca shakes her head, setting her glass down on the table before she sits closer to me. "Y/N, I'm asking you how did you know. How did you feel coming out? Was it hard? Were you scared?"

Oh!

I set my glass down as I think about my answer. I turn my body towards Becca, giving her my undivided attention.

"For me.." I clear my throat as I look only at Becca's eyes. "For me, it was easy. I had a very loving and comfortable support system around me. I was a little scared when it came to other people knowing. That's why only certain people at school knew." I watch as Becca nods along to my words. The right side of her lips pulled into a smile, knowing she was one of the few.

"But I think I knew for a long time prior to high school. I wasn't 100% sure until the two weeks before Ethan Stoners' party." I nod to myself, confirming the words coming out of my mouth.

"The party we kissed at?"

"The party we kissed at," I reply back with a smile matching the one covering her face. Becca has now inched a bit closer to me. Now the mood has shifted once again.

"Why?" I ask in a more hushed tone than the one I've had all night.

Becca's eyes dart away back to her glass. "Hey." I softly say as she turns to me. Becca bites her lip.

"Is it too late to come out?"

I furrow my brows and shake my head at her.

"It will never be too late."

Becca shines a brand new smile at me as she leans her body closer to me. "I think for a while, I was tricking myself after our kiss." She causal drops that I was her gay awakening. Is that what she just said? I think Becca sensed my shockness. "Why do you think I kept inviting you out?"

A goofy grin forms on my face, but before I can answer, a small voice interrupts us.

"Mom?"

I whip my head towards the bottom of the stairs as Becca stands up away from me. "Yes, honey?" She walks up and out of the living room towards the voice.

She's a mom? Is this a sign? Should I leave?

I get up, not knowing what to do. From where I'm standing, I see Becca crouched down to a small, short-haired boy. The boy sees me and gasps causing Becca to look back toward me.

"It's okay, Matty. That's just a friend of Mommy's." I feel bad for scaring the kid but hearing what he says next hurts me even more. "Is she safe, or is she like Josh?" I quickly turn my face away, pretending I didn't hear that, as my eyes rapidly become full. "She's safe," Becca whispers to her child.

"Would you like to meet her?"

I turn my head towards the two humans as Becca holds Matty's hand as he cautiously walks behind her. I sit myself back on the couch, hoping that this action will make Matty feel better.

The two enter the living room. Becca shoots me an apologetic smile, but I wave it off. "Matty, this is Mommy's friend Y/N. Would you like to say hi?" Matty hides behind his mother's legs shielding his face. I look up to Becca, who mouths an "I'm sorry" I look back down to Matty, who is intently watching me.

"Hi, Matty," I say with a smile sitting as still as I can. "It's nice to meet you." Matty looks to Becca. "It's okay." Becca day down to the little boy.

"Hi." Matty practically whispers, which makes Becca and I smile.

"How about you go sit on the couch while I get you some water, okay?" Matty looks up at his mom, a little scared, before his grip on her sweatpants loosens. Becca and I oversee Matty's walk to the couch. Sitting as far from me as he can.

I decide to pull my eyes away from Matty. I don't want to scare him or do anything to upset him. A few seconds later, Becca returns with a glass of water. She crouches in front of her son, ensuring he gets a few gulps before setting it down next to her wine glass.

Since Matty is sitting where Becca started the night, Becca is now sitting right next to me. Our shoulders touching. I feel like I'm in high school again. Becca turns to face me with a smile like she is making sure I'm okay. I give her one back. It's weird to see her with a kid, but that's not business.

Becca pulls her eyes away from me as Matty tugs on her right sleeve. I don't hear what Matty says, but Becca replies, "Yes, I'm watching Sing with Y/N. Okay." Becca turns to me. "He wants us to restart the movie. He'll be asleep in the first ten minutes." I almost laughed at how annoyed she sounded, but I let her know that it was okay.

With that, Becca restarts the movie.

_

By the time Nick Offerman's character rolls around, Becca was right Matty is asleep, resting into his mother's side. Coincidentally, Becca has her body pushed into me. But it's not forceful or weird. It's relaxing—something I need right now.

"He had a nightmare." Becca's whisper pulls me away from the TV. I peer over the woman next to me to look at Matty. He's a cute kid, and how he sleeps is even cuter; he almost looks angry in his sleep. I move my eyes to Beccas. "Is he.. Is he mine?" I say without any sign that I'm joking. Becca only looks at me with shock and confusion before seeing my smile break.

"You had me worried that we needed to have a grown-up conversation."

We quietly laugh to one another before two porcupines on screen bring my attention back to the movie.

Is that- Ash the porcupine- IS THAT SCARLETT?

"Ash, babe. I'm the lead singer, okay? Just stick to the backing vocals." Holy shit, this Lance porcupine is an asshole.

"Sorry I get carried away." Ash replies, and oh my God, it is Miss Scarlett Johansson. I turn to Becca, who has eyes still on the screen. Forty-eight hours away ago, I was hanging out with her, and now I'm here.

"You okay?" Becca says, her eyes searching mine for the problem. "Just thinking about Ash," I say as if that's normal. "The porcupine?" I nod. "She's a cute character."

Matty slumps himself into Becca more, making her sigh before she gets up with him in her arms. "I'm going to set him back down in bed. I'll be right back." I go to pause the movie, but Becca clears her throat. "I've seen it a million times. Keep watching." I lean back into the couch but watch Becca, not the TV. I can't believe she's a mother.

_

"So when, if you don't mind me asking?"

When Becca came back, she pulled a blanket over the two of us and sat down right next to me. We had our attention fixated on the movie, but as it continued, we slowly started talking about other things. Never once Becca leaving my side.

"Freshman year of college. One night stand. Before you ask, I planned on getting an abortion."

"What happened?" I ask, looking down at the brunette's head.

"I don't know.. we were all set in the car on the way there, and I had this feeling wash over me." Becca turns her eyes to look up at me. "Some days, he can be a real handful, but there are these moments where his happiness is the only thing I could ever want."

"I've only seen you do it for one night, and I think you're a great mom." Becca rolls her eyes. "Stop it."

"I'm being serious," I reply, lifting myself so Becca has to move and face me. "I couldn't do it."

"You could, Y/N, and someday you will." Becca turns away from me and gets up from the couch. Suddenly my shoulder has never felt so cold.

"Here." Becca holds out a glass of water to me. "You had two glasses of wine. I'm not allowing you to leave here without drinking water and sobering up." I graciously take the water and begin chugging it down while Becca returns to her previous position.

"What, you don't want me spending the night?"

"Don't you know about the three-date rule?"

We both laugh; however, I'm not sure if she was joking or not.

"Becca," I say as comfortable silence fills the room. "Yeah?" "Earlier, you said I was tricking myself after our kiss. Was I your gay awakening?"

Becca moves her body off of mine and faces me. Our legs touching over one another. "I think you were." I can't stop the smile making its way onto my face. "Oh Goodness, I just grew your ego, didn't I?" I nod while Becca laughs at me.

"I guess I should've made it more obvious." "I should've paid more attention." We both give our reasonings for just being young and dumb.

"What's next for you? I doubt you're going to be staying here."

"I don't know... I haven't given it much thought." It's true, except Becca's right. I don't plan on staying in Nashville for more than a month. "After- after Elizabeth, my only thought was leaving New York, and now that I'm here, I'm not sure what to do."

"You'll figure it out. You were always one of the smartest and most talented people I knew. And cutest." Becca smirks at me, causing my cheeks to heat up. "Thank you, B."

"Of course, Y/N."

I move my body towards Becca as we pull one another into a hug. Whatever happens after tonight, I'm genuinely happy I ran into Becca today. If I hadn't, I'd probably be off sulking in my mom's apartment or alone in the city.

Slowly after a long comforting hug, Becca and I pull back from each other. Our faces inches from each other.

"Thank you for ton-" I'm cut off by Becca's lips smashing against my own. I feel her hands work their way down my sides before she instantly removes them. Her lips leaving mine.

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done that." I go to speak, but the words get stuck in my throat.

Becca goes to get up from the couch, but my hand stops her and pulls her back down. Before she can protest, I move my hands to the side of her face pulling it towards mine.

Our lips meeting in the middle.

This isn't right. I know this. We shouldn't be doing it. But there's something here. Maybe it's this feeling in my stomach where I'm getting the same butterflies I felt all those years ago. Perhaps it's because Becca wanted it as well. Or it could be because it just feels fucking good.

I still love the woman I left in New York. But tonight, I'm kissing Becca from Nashville.

Liz POV

For the second night in a row, I'm crawling myself into Y/N's bed. Her pillows still smell like her, so they help my mind rest easier.

As hard as it will be, I know I can't stay here forever. I probably shouldn't even still be here. But with her gone, this place carries the memories we made in such a short time.

Max's girlfriend Ivy has reached out to my team personally and assured me that the case would be one of the easiest she's taken. I mean, the dude literally filmed himself doing all the horrid shit. So that's one less thing to worry about.

After scrolling through my secret social media accounts and getting frustrated with how the world is, I'm about to call it a night and force myself to go to sleep when my phone buzzes.

It's from a number, I don't recognize.

Unknown She's in Nashville.

Robbie POV

These last couple of days have been a whirlwind.

From writing new music to Lizzie's team asking my team and me to go public with the news that Lizzie and I haven't been in a relationship in over a month. To the fact that I haven't heard from Lizzie, Y/N, or anyone since yesterday.

Well, until tonight..

I was sitting in my home office going over Lizzie, and I's old ideas for children's books when my phone lit up. The text wasn't the surprising part.

"I'd like to talk."

The surprising part was who it was from: Y/N

Part 25

[equallyshaw]

NO MORE SACRIFICES; MATTHEW TKACHUK.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: none.

hope you all enjoy :)

—

third pov:

The lights dimmed, as she made her way to center stage. Her pointe shoes tapping on the floor of the royal ballet stage in london. Her last and final turn on this stage was going to be bittersweet. She was finally retiring as lead ballerina there, but excited to lead a life away from the stage.

Your pov:

I had spent the last 12 years of my life away from my friends and family, back home in Chicago. I had come to the Royal Ballet School when I was 13 years old, and now I was about to turn 25. I had left my friends and family in the rearview mirror, so I could chase my dreams. It was more than difficult to say the least. I especially had a hard time leaving the closest family friends ever: the Tkachuks. I had grown up with them in the summer times and when they would take trips to Chicago, and us to St.Louis. Which more often than not, included ballet competitions and intensives mixed in. At the prime age of 8, I was told by many top instructors at the Joffery Ballet Academy in Chicago that I had what it took to become a professional ballerina. If I sacrificed. Then when I was 10, I moved to NYC to go to the premier Joffery Academy, a step up from the Chicago one. Sacrificing half my year away from my parents. After that when I was 12, I had recieved an invitaiton to audtion for the Royal Ballet Academy in London, that is run by Queen ELizabeth herself. To say I was shocked was an understatement. I remember it vividly. My family and I were at our summer lake house in St Louis, that is right down the lake from the Tkachuks summer residence. I remember to this day, the moment my dad had handed my the letter. It seemed magical, the gold lettering transcribed with my full name on the front. Y/F/N, Y/M/N and Y/L/N. It was a bittersweet moment becuase then I would have to leave the U.S- fulltime. It wouldn't be like international competitions where I would go for a month and then come back. That I had routinely done, for the past few years.

It meant that I would be leaving my family, and the Tkachuks who again- were like family. I would also be leaving my best friend in the whole entire world- and simply, a pain in the ass: Matthew Tkachuk. He was so happy for me, but I saw the sad glint in his eyes of the future. I wouldn't be back for a long time, my parents were also ready to move there only daughter and there family to London full time if it meant that I could get ahead. That's what we did. So now, you see me as the Chicago transplant in the sometimes sunny but mostly gloomy, London. I even dawned a bit of a accent, if you asked my family back home.

It had been six years since I last saw Matthew and his family, when they took a trip to Scotland, where we met up with them. Matthew had just been drafted to the NHL, days beforehand and I had just turned 19. I had just made my debut solo, which also ended in a brief injury and so I was miraculously able to see them. It was like the ballet gods were giving me a moment, "you have this one time and then its back to hell." I loved ballet but it took so many oppurtunities to spend times with loved ones back home. As well as the grueling demands on a ballerina, the injuries and roadblocks it had. After I left home with my parents, I was never able to travel back to Chicago with them. The only time I had made it overseas was to NYC for a intensive that I was fortunate to run with the Royal Ballet School and had just barely scraped ten minutes to see Matthew, a year after they visited Scotland. However, we never did meet. I was thrown back onto a plane, before I could text him what was happening.

Our mom's would always joke that we were twos peas in a pod, destined for one another. One half of the coin. Yet, after I left that wasn't to be anymore. We were so close, it hurt (annoyed Brady) everybody around us to see what we were going through at the start of puberty. Yes, you can laugh. We were big babies, and it was a hard adjustment. More so him, but anywho. I stopped hearing about him after the Scotland trip which was more than okay. Our parents stayed in contact, but I continued on with Ballet and on the side, University. Thankfully, I did graduate last year with a degree in International Relations from the Univeristy College of London, after 5 years of balancing professional ballet and my studys. I always knew though, that I would want something that I could take with me wherever I go. That no matter where I ended up after I was done dancing, I could make a comfortable living. It also helped that I knew two other languages besides English, so the degree was going to be useful. After Scotland, besides us trying to see one another in NYC, I hadn't heard much after that. My parents stopped telling me about the family, which I was confused at first but again, paid no attention to it. I didn't have the time and could not afford to be bothered with it. The year after the Scotland trip, my parents made the hard decision of moving back to Chicago. It was time, and I supported them whole heartedly. It had been difficult to uproot us, but it was a choice that, so paid off. Yet, now they were surrounded by there family, friends and the Tkachuks who were in a catergory of there own and who had welcomed them back home with open arms.

It was last month when my mom and I had one of our weekly chats that she spilled the beans that the Tkachuks were coming with them to see my perform one last time. And I mean all of them. We had the pain in the ass Matthew, annoying but sweet younger brother Brady and the princess of them all- Taryn. Though, im sure now she hated the nickname, but loved it as a kid. My parents were in St.Louis when I made the call around 4 pm my time and 10 am there time. I had just gotten done with rehearsel for my last show:The Swan Lake, my first and only time I'd be performing as the Swan Princess, Odette. It was more grueling than the others I had done since I turned proffessional and that was because, it was simply The Swan Lake. No beating around the bush, on this one. I could not only let down my cast, but the public as well. I had a legacy to continue, and uphold. My parents saw how tired I was, but I brushed them off and told them that this was the last sacrifices I had to make. That I no longer would be apart from them, as well as my other family. I even joked that the first thing I would do was visit them in St.Louis, but I was not sure if I would even be accepted by our friends there. The Tkachuks and others, at this point. I had been away to long, and had change so much. I didn't even know what anybody sounded like anymore or what they did besides play hockey. I had no meaning in there lives anymore, which made me sad but I had accepted it years ago when I first began to sacrifice things in my young life. Yet, this was the final stretch. The final sacrifice I'd hope to ever make in my life, again.

Third POV:

It was a rainy evening on this August night, typical weather here in London. However despite the weather, the Tkachuks and the dancer's family were in high spirits. This would be the first time, the Tkachuks had seen the girl in over six years. They were excited to see her but nervous. Her life had changed over the years, in addition to Matt's and Brady's. Matthew in particular, was nervous that she wouldn't like him. Even as a friend. He was on pins and needles the whole day, pacing and absent mindly shaking his leg when sitting. The dancer was meant to meet up with her family and them for breakfast, but she had a last minute meeting with the Royal Ballet, so she had to have a rain check. She'd have plenty more oppurtunties, to have breakfast with them back home. Not seeing her like he was supposed to, made Matthew a little annoyed. Again, something came up but atleast this time he found out as soon as she did. There was no 15 hour stretch of waiting. No, Matthew did not wait 15 hours at the coffee shop but he waited 15 hours that included a game + a plane ride back with a annoying Jonny. Atleast this time, he knew when he'd see her again.

The two family's made there way towards the theater, taking in the lined street lining the front and back of the opera house, transporting you back to another time. Matthew saw the hussle and bussle of London and imagined her life here these past 13 years. He imagined the early morning and late night rehearsels that ran into the wee hours of the night. He imagined the late night food runs, the parties she hit up when her university and dance schedule allowed it. He even imagined her going on dates, receiving flowers and spending the night with somebody that was not him. Call it unrequited love, but he didn't care. Call him a hopeless romantic, but even as at a young age when his mom's would say they would be perfect together when they were older and they'd both fake gag and say they both had cooties- he had liked her then and had grown even more attached through late night youtube deep dives of her interviews, instagram, his mom's facebook and performance's he'd catch online at all hours. Matthew had never stopped following her life. She had though, and Matthew knew that once she went radio silet six years ago- he was afraid that they would never see one another again. Never speak again. However, as the hockey gods would have it- a trip to London to see her officially retire was granted. He thanked whoever said he could have a un beatable off season moment and ran with it.

"God, this is gorgeous." Chantal Tkachuk stated as they walked in. The dancer's mother nodded, "One of the most prestigious opera and ballet houses in the world." responded. "She's one lucky girl, to be here and do what she has done." Keith Tkachuk responded and her dad agreed. "Who would of though we'd all be here, huh? Still doesn't get old." He commented. It was gorgeous, Matthew thought. She was in heaven all these years, performing at the best place in the world for Ballet. This was where she belonged, even after all the sacrifrices she made that hurt the boy. "Our seats our this way." The dancer's father said, pointing up the starewell that led to the boxes. The dancer's family had been awarded there typical box that they got when they lived in London. The dancer would know to look up there, when the time came. She always did.

The dancer behind stage, stretched and turned and did side tilts. Loosening up her body, that had been beat down over the year. She was happy this was her final trip on the stage but was sad, that it was actually coming to a close. She had originally agreed to perform until she was 30, but after 13 years she had had enough in London. Her body had had enough. Now with a degree, she had a way out. A way out of the sacrifices she had made, to achieve her dream. Her new dream now was to leave happy and satisfied. Her parents and the Tkachuks saw the lights flashing, which meant that it was almost time for the performance to begin. Matthew looked around, taking in the grand theater that would never been built in the U.S. It was to grand, too much history and elegance filled the theater. Hell, the cobblestones should have been a sign. "Its time." The dancers mother said grabbing ahold of her husbands hand, and they shared a brief look. One of love, sadness, grief and a breath of relief. There girl was finally coming home after many years, but not without one last grand performance.

Her nerves grew as she came on to perform, Pas De Trois- her opening duet with a male partner. Her moves, turns and leaps were all graceful. She moved fluidly throughout the duet, drawing in the Tkachuks with move after move. The first duet ended, in enormous clapping and whistles. This is what they had been missing out all these years, Matthew thought. He was hooked, he could not get enough. "I cant believe thats Bun Head in the flesh." Brady mused to Matthew, using a old nickname they had for the girl. Intermission came and went, the families ready to see what was next.

The dancer waited behind the curtain for the final call, her final turn and leap with her partner. She spun out onto the stage, falling into the arms of Prince Siegfried. He spun her around, showcasing her pointed legs and feet before setting her back on the ground, to help her spin. Matthew shifted to leaning on his knees, watching the dancer perform the final duet-- a duet between the good and evil. The dancer ran into the arms of the evil and stretched her body as far as she possibly could as the dancer raised her over his arms. As soon as she was put back onto the ground, the music tempo picked up, the lights began to darken and ligthen up every few seconds. The music ended, and she was now off the stage about to begin her final solo. Her dance partner and friend Eric, gave her a big hug. Letting her know that he had enjoyed dancing with her this season, and that she was going to rock it.

She hummed as the music began before walking back out to the stage. She took the music and ran with it, she immersed herself into the final song of her career. Taking the audience on a journey, and one that ultimelty led to her character dying. She spun once more, landing her signature 12 pirorette's before gracefully falling to the floor before covering her leg and then it was over. She stayed in the position for about five seconds, before turning over onto her side and standing up. The darkness of the stage, engulfed her and allowed to trot offstage. The Tkachuks and the rest of the crowd, stood on there feet to applaud the dancer on her solo. She had gratfeful tears pool at her eyes as she was engulfed in many arms as they enclosed around her. She had did it, she had moved the last piece in the puzzle.

The crowd's applause grew louder and louder, as the dancers came out.Eric, the prince had recieved the loudest of the night so far as he came out. The ballerine took in a big breath, before trotting out herself behind the dancers and took her place in the middle of them for a brief second before moving her way up to center stage. She beamed a grateful and sad smiled, as she bowed. She looked up at her parents box, and saw the tears they were wiping away in between clapping. She saw the young princess who had a fiery side to her. She saw the younger brother who had made her and Matthew's life hell for so many years. She saw the two people she saw as an extension of her parents, providing many hugs and advice when she was younger. And then her eyes fell on the curly brunette who had always been an ass to her, but somehow she loved him even more because of it. Her crush never wavering all these years. She gave them a big smile, and returned to the crowd. The audience threw single roses on the stage, as Eric walked out with a bouquet of peonies and roses, her two favorites. Eric took her in his side and gave her a kiss on the cheek. The dancer erupted into tears as she pulled him in for a full on hug. After parting, she looked back towards the wings and saw the directors coming out. They smiled at the young dancer, before hugging her. "We would like to thank y/f/n, y/m/n and y/l/n for all her years here at the Royal Ballet. She has been with us for 13 wonderful years. Through many sacrifices, injuries and setbacks she has taken her final leap here on this stage tonight. Join us in giving her one last applause, for Miss Y/L/N." John the main director said into the microphone. The dancer looked out towards the crowd once more, and took one last deep bow. Her sacrificing was now over.

Matthew and the rest of the family waited back stage, for the dancer to finish saying goodbye to the cast and crew. Matthew hopped on his feet, nervous as ever. Brady couldn't help but laugh, and Taryn couldn't help but gush over the ever in love boy. The dance stepped out of wings and made her way to where her parents were. As soon as she saw them, she took off into a jog. They wrapped in a big hug, with some tears coming from the parents eyes. They parted, and showed her the peonies they had picked up for her and she smiled and thanked them. She then looked past them and saw keith and Chantal. She beamed at the two going in for a hug from Chantal first, "You were beautiful. Exquisite." She exclaimed and the dancer thanked her. She moved towards keith and he wrapped her in a fatherly hug that she had missed, "You were a rockstar, out there kid." he beamed and she giggled and thanked him. She moved towards Taryn and smiled widely, "I havent seen you since you were this high." The dancer joked and pointed to how short she was before. "And you, the most annoying prankestor." The dancer said moving onto Brady who rolled his eyes. "You're just jealous, that you couldn't one up me." He mused causing the group to laugh. She moved out of his arms and looked towards the curly hair boy, she had missed so much. "And the best partner in hockey would of had to have been you." She mused and he chuckled as she moved in to hug him. It was just as she remembered. But now older, stronger and more intimate. She moved out of his arms, much to quick to both there dismays. She beamed at the group, "I have one last look at my dressing room and the stage and then we can feast!" She said joyfully and they all nodded, telling her to take her time. They'd be here for as long as she needed to be.

She took a second to glance up at Matthew as the rest of the group began to chat with eachother and John the director who went to greet her parents. "Do you wanna come with me?" she asked the hockey player and he nodded before following after her. "This was my nook for so many years." she said as they walked into the room. He took in the pictures, nick nacks and flowers that dawned the room. The hard wood creaked under there feet as they moved in. He took in all the pictures that lined the wall and saw one that was familiar, "I haven't seen this one in years." He commented on one that they both were in, back when they celebrated Easter together as a family. They had chocolate smeared on there faces with her childhood room in the background. "Yeah..I could never part with that one. Or this one." She said pulling off another picture from the wall. "Oh I rememember this one! You won that day, though I may have let you won." he joked causing her to roll her eyes. It was them on the ice together in St.Louis during the Christmas holiday. They had gone on the backyard ice, Matthews dad had made, and shot pucks on one another with Brady and Keith. "This was right before I left actually, for the Spring semester." She stated and Matthew nodded as she moved into his side a little closer than he would have thought she would be. She didn't realize how close she was until she felt an arm around her lower back, pulling her in closer. She smiled softly, before looking at some other pictures on the wall in front of them. "This was my first day at the academy, where I surprisingly fit in. I thought me being American would have made people not like me. But I wasn't alone, I had two other dancers from the states to keep me company. And this one, it was my senior performance. My first solo here. I think if I wanted to, I could perform that with my eyes closed." She mused. "I'm sure you could." he responded, feeling her giggle throughout his body. He looked down at her, smiling like an idiot. She looked back up at met his eyes, and blushed like an idiot.

"I missed you a lot." He softly said and she was taken back. "Oh, uh yeah me too." She said genuninly. "It definitly got lonely over on this side of the pond." She mused and he smiled back. "You and your british lingo. Im not sure if I like it." he chuckled. "Oh, then you probably don't like my accent." she responded and he shook his head. "No, I do like it. I think it's cute." he confessed and she gave him a small smile. "Well, I think your accent is cute too. It's a change from what i've been hearing all these years." She joked causing him to now blush. "How about when you come back to Chicago, we get that coffee that we were supposed to get?" He mused as she moved away from him to collect the rest of her items. She turned around and smiled, "I'd like that very much Matthew, nothing more to sacrifice." She smiled. He moved closer to her, her nerves growing more and more. "Would it be wrong if I kissed you?" He asked and that threw her off guard before nodding yes. "I thought you'd never do it." She said before he cupped her cheeks and kissed her.

Something, they both had waited for all these years.

Finally, she no longer had to sacrifice her life for her dream. She now could (eventually) reside in sunny Miami with the curly haired boy who had stolen her heart many summers ago.

@yourusername: from my debut to swan lake, miss bunhead has taken her final bow. Thankyou @royalballet for everything these past 13 years, I am not more than ready to spread my wings and return to the motherland. Can't wait for this new journey!!!

23.4k likes, 1.2k comments.

@bradytkachuk: great, now youll be even closer to me. i prefer an ocean between us.

@yourusername: deal with it bud !

@taryntkachuk: go away dude

@taryntkachuk: super excited to have you home!

@yourusername: i cant wait to spend all my time with you!!

@matthewtkachuk: what about me? ive missed u too bunhead :(

@yourusernamed: haha yes, ill have more than enough time for all. besides lady

@taryntkachuk: haha love that nickname

@matthewtkachuk: hahah lady brady

@bradytkachuk: hate you all

@matthewtkachuk: congratulations on your retirment you old lady! gratfeul I got to watch you one last time...definatly a change from when you were 10.

98k likes, 3.4k likes

@yourusername: aweeee matthew! you sap

@taryntkachuk: sappy matty

@bradytkachuk: i like that name

↳

>@yourusername

: lol

@bradytckachuk: somebody cried

@taryntkachuk: not me!

@yourusername: mattty the sap cried? that makes me love him even more lol

↳@matthewtkachuk: omg stop lol

@randomuser: i wonder if they are dating?

@randomuser2: aweeee matt sounds sweet

@randomuser3: shes a badass

@randomuser4: she seems sweet, i hope they are dating

@yourusername: lol people, we are just childhood friends! that is all

@bradytkachuk: childhood sweethearts** @taryntkachuk: ****

@randomuser5: lol even they know whats up

@yourusername: bud bud lets not

@matthewtkachuk: yeah bud lets not @bradytkachuk: just waiting for the moment you two announce it;)

—

I hope you enjoyed!! I would love to do a second part, if you would like! Please like, reblog and if possible: give me a follow to read more stories and blurbs :)

[galaxytastes]

Jumin’s Birthday

Hi! This is my first post and, rightfully so, it will be a “little” 10 page long “drabble”. It’s pretty self indulgent and non-romantic. I’m a sucker for angst and platonic affection, so buckle up, simps. Thank you so much for reading!

Words: 3033

TW: Alcohol, mention of death. 

CW: Spoilers for the secret endings/Saeyoung’s after end 

Jumin Han has always been a curious person when it came to commoner practices. Whether it be family traditions, silly superstitions, or childlike games; all of it intrigues the man like nothing else. Even as a child, despite his privileged and sheltered upbringing, Jumin still felt the temptation to explore the world of the common folk. And who better to experience the unknown than with his best friend? The two would often find themselves lost in their own world. A world without responsibility. A world without heirs, businessmen or conglomerates. A world where two boys could be just that; boys. 

But, life is not so simple. Summers and winters pass. With time came more responsibilities and adulthood pressures. Long felt the days of childhood; that which there was not much to begin with. Despite the challenges and tribulations life threw at the pair, one tradition remains unshaken by time. Birthdays.

Slender fingers wrap impatiently around his Rolex as Jumin checks the clock. He sighs in annoyance, noticing how quickly the day flew by. On most work days, the director can barely wait to get out the door. While he certainly didn’t dislike his office, he much preferred most anywhere else once the clock ticked past 6 pm. But today was different. Today was October 5th. 

The dark haired man pinches the skin between his eyes and only looks up from his desk upon hearing the familiar clicking of heels up his office hallway. Jaehee knocks gently at the door and peers in from around the corner. The woman has a concerned look in her warm eyes, but Jumin can’t begin to worry about what was the matter. 

“Yes, Assistant Kang. Have you come to bother me more about Saeyoung’s complaints over my lack of celebrations this evening?” Jumin speaks to his assistant, his voice icey cold. “I understand, Mr. Han. I… did come in here to talk about that, but not because of Saeyoung. It’s just… it’s 7 pm and you’re still here. It’s your birthday, and you say you have plans. I was wondering w-” “I’m well aware of what today is.” The director hisses as his hands clench together on the wood desk. He sucks in a quick breath and immediately backpedals, offering Jaehee an apologetic look. “Forgive me. I’ve been getting bothered about this day for… weeks now.” The director sighs and stands from the desk, making no move to hurry himself on gathering his things. 

“No need for apologies, sir. I completely understand. I’m sure you’ve heard enough pushing from the others.” Jaehee dismisses his coldness and grabs his jacket from the stand near the door. She meets him halfway across the room and gives his arm a comforting squeeze as she hands him the coat. 

“I think everyone just wants to share today with you since we truly care. So, if you change your mind, do let us know, please?” The brunette woman smiles sadly at her boss, earning her a weak smile from him in return. His heart warms a bit at her genuine words and he almost wishes to take her up on her offer. But, he made a promise to a friend for this evening. As always, Jumin Han is a man of his word. 

“I will. Thank you, Assistant Kang.”

The ride to the venue is quiet, and most of the time Jumin prefers it this way. His days are loud and chaotic, full of phone calls and stuffy conversations. His backseat oasis behind his trusty Driver Kim is normally a breath of fresh air. But, tonight, it feels suffocating. Both hands rake through his thick hair and he quietly wades in the painful silence. As if on cue, a voice perks up from the driver’s seat. “Mr. Han. I’ve prepared the supplies for your evening. I assume it will be to your liking?” Driver Kim meets Jumin’s unusually scrambled gaze, and the tightness in the director’s chest loosens just enough to allow him another deep breath. 

“I appreciate you, Driver Kim. I’m sure it looks beautiful.” Jumin nods gratefully to the older man. “Did you happen to retrieve the bottle I’d set aside for this evening?” 

“Of course. It’s wrapped in the basket along with some other things I thought would pair well with the wine. You have exquisite taste as always, Mr. Han.” The man’s eyes crinkle behind his glasses as he clicks his turn signal to pull to a stop. 

“Thank you again… Ah. We’re here already?” Jumin looks out the window, admiring the landscape lit beautifully by the setting sun. “Right on schedule. The sun will set the mood for a lovely birthday evening.” Driver Kim hums as he fishes something from his coat pocket. He turns in his chair and reaches to the backseat, holding a small box with a ribbon atop of it. “This one isn’t for you, young director. So, don’t go peeking until he gets to see it first.” Jumin chuckles and nods, gently taking the small box from the other man. The driver moves to let out his employer, but Jumin waves him dismissively. “We will not be too long. I’m not one to fuss over birthday celebrations.” The director smooths out his suit jacket and pant legs before opening up the car door. “I know, Mr. Han. Take all the time you need. Tell him I say hello, and happy belated birthday.” Driver Kim keeps his gaze on the horizon ahead of him, wetness stinging the old man’s eyes. Jumin actively ignores the sudden show of emotion and uses his free hand to shut the door. 

Tiny lights sparkle along the trail up through the finely landscaped hill, leading Jumin directly to his destination. Clammy hands hold onto the tiny gift tightly as he continues along the rocky trail. Once he reaches the top, he strays from the path to greet his friend. His chest storms with emotion and dark eyes widen as he counts each step. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. His breath sounds too loud in his ears, and he’s sure his heart is beating much too fast. Suddenly, he wishes to be anywhere but here. Anywhere but anywhere. But, Jumin Han is a man of his word. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Oxfords continue to pad across the grass and eventually come to a slow stop. “Ten.” Jumin breathes aloud. “Hello, old friend.”

Jumin’s mouth remains open as he goes to continue greeting the other before he takes a moment to take in his surroundings. A checkered blanket, red and white, is delicately laid out in the plush, green grass. A picnic basket brimming with all sorts of delicacies is centered on the blanket, along with another smaller basket, cushioning two crystal glasses. Candles flicker over petals of flowers, casting a glow to compete with the setting sun. “It’s like something from a film. This is…” Jumin lets out a breathless laugh as he eases himself onto the blanket. “This is beautiful.”

Jumin wastes no time in exploring the basket prepared for the two. The smile never leaves his lips as he pushes past fine cheeses, chocolates and a beautifully decorated cake. He lets out a little “ah-ha” upon finding the thing both men would enjoy more than anything. “Now, this is more like it, hm?” Jumin wriggles out the vintage bottle, holding it up for the both of them to admire. “Henschke, Hill of Grace, Shiraz. 1994, if I recall correctly? Australians know their reds.” With a skillful hand, Jumin uncorks the bottle and pours the red liquid into the fine crystal glasses. The aroma of the wine fills the evening air between them, and for a moment, Jumin feels lighter. The weight of the day melts away in the twilight’s embrace. Perhaps birthdays can just be birthdays. Jumin muses to himself as he wraps his fingers around the stem of the glass. He scoots slowly across the blanket to hand the drink to the other man. Perhaps it is alright for him to enjoy himself this way. The crystal is set down with great care onto the stone and Jumin uses the wrist of his jacket to smudge away any thumb prints he may have left. His vision blurs as he clinks the glasses together. The sound is familiar, but in a very different way now. Lonely.

The other glass is still. No hand reaches to join him in the toast. No voice returns his greeting. No smile returns his grin. Jumin’s black eyes blink and he swallows back the pain that threatens to lurch from his stomach. He raises his drink between himself and the headstone and tosses back the entire glassful. The wine burns his throat and he is grateful for the pain. 

“Happy belated birthday, V. And, as you would surely remind me. ‘Oh, it’s your birthday. Quit pretending it's not, Jumin.’” The man’s voice cracks a bit and he clears his throat. Please, keep it together. He wills himself to hold on as he continues. “I don’t care much for my birthday. But, I promised you I would make time for my birthday if it meant I could celebrate yours.” 

For the next few minutes, Jumin forces small talk with the stone. He talks of work. He talks of Elizabeth. He reaches desperately into the backs of his mind to talk about every nonsensical thing he could imagine, avoiding the things he wishes to scream out. 

“Ah. I should update you on how the RFA is doing.” Jumin leans back on his elbows, horizontal with his friend’s grave. He looks up at the stars, allowing himself to instead imagine V there next to him; laying on his side as he listens to Jumin in attentive silence. The thought warms his cheeks and his heart. “Assistant Kang has been especially… gentle since the incident. Even Zen has begun showing me a side to him I never expected. He’s… kind. Yoosung, on the other hand… He has matured in a way I was not expecting. He misses you…” Jumin clears his throat once more before he continues. “Saeyoung and Saeran are doing very well. Both of them speak of you often. The twins and MC live together, all under one roof, as you always wished for. You’d be so proud, V.” Jumin shakily inhales as his lips tremble around his fourth glass. The tears that well in his eyes finally spill over onto his pale cheeks as he finishes off another drink.

So many things are left unsaid. So many angry, sad and desperate questions of why and how. Jumin sets the glass down and sits up, pushing his hand against his mouth to muffle the sob that escapes him. He should be here, pulling the glass from me, telling me I’ve had enough. He should be here to slug my arm around his shoulder. He should be here. No one but him should be here. Why, V? Why did you leave? The silence is louder than ever as Jumin attempts to calm himself down with a deep breath, using the back of his sleeve to wipe his cheeks. While the pain still clings to every inch of the man’s body like a bed of nails, Jumin swallows it back to properly finish his evening. “I almost forgot. Driver Kim wishes for me to give you this belated birthday gift. On my birthday, of all days.” Jumin sniffles with a smile as he fishes out the small box to set down on the memorial stone. He carefully unwraps the brightly colored ribbon and wriggles open the box. “Here, I will open it for you. Driver Kim has excellent taste in gifts. Perhaps it is a matching cufflink to my own. They’re designer, you know. And-” Jumin’s voice catches in his throat as the top of the box pops open. Cushioned inside a bed of white tissue paper is a small photo frame; no bigger than the palm of his hand. In the frame stares back two boys wearing birthday hats in front of a cake. Happy birthday, J & J is written across the cake in cursive writing. Jumin bites the inside of his cheek as a final tear escapes from him. The boys look like complete strangers. Both so innocent; so unaware of what the future will hold for them. Young Jihyun’s eyes are crinkled in a smile and his toothy grin takes up nearly half his face. Young Jumin smiles just as wide, but his eyes are wide open and looking directly at his friend. Cheeks flushed red, black and teal hair a complete tangled mess. They were happy. “We’ve changed, but not much. I loved you then, and I love you now.” Jumin whispers to V as he carefully sets down the frame along with all the other flowers and trinkets left scattered around the grave. His hand traces across the name etched into the stone slab and he uses the other hand to finish the wine directly from the bottle. “‘Happy birthday, Jumin.’” The director whispers into the lips of the bottle as he drains the last drops. 

The car ride home is quiet. Driver Kim helps a drunken Jumin into the car, taking no time at all to clean up the picnic and wine glasses. The shared silence between the two men is comfortable and calm. No words are shared with the driver and the director. Driver Kim simply hands the man a handkerchief and drives him back to his penthouse. 

Jumin’s eyes sting from the tears and his legs stumble as he steps from the car. He quietly thanks his driver who helps him up to the penthouse and fumbles with the keypad to unlock the door. Jumin exhales into the quiet room, letting the darkness consume him. His hand comes to rest on the center of his chest, and he takes a moment to appreciate the lighter feeling in his torso. The pain is less like broken glass now, more like the remnants of a broken mirror. The sharp and painful pieces have been removed, leaving the frame of what once was. It’s obvious something shattered the mirror, and a few bits of glass are left behind. But, the danger of the pain has been cleared away. 

“Shhh. Don’t yell, you’ll scare him. He looks sleepy.” A voice whispers from the kitchen. “How about you shut up and say surprise like we practiced? We’ve been here for an hour now, my legs hurt from squatting.” Another deeper voice grumbles in reply. 

“Hm?” Jumin drunkenly stumbles further into his seemingly empty penthouse as his tired eyes scan the dark room. 

“Can everyone at least attempt to remain quiet?” Another softer voice sighs.

“Saeyoung, this was a stupid idea. Put his cat down.” A voice exclaims, accompanied by a smack and a familiar yelp. 

“Hey! That’s my job!” A woman giggles and another smack echoes through the penthouse.

“Well, now I feel left out.” A man’s voice speaks, adding on another, more intense smack sound. “GAH! Okay, okay. Princess, we’ll catch up later. Go see your daddy. He needs a birthday hug.” This voice, he recognizes immediately, and his eyes fly wide open as he reaches for the light switch. “Saeyoung?! What?!” Jumin shouts as he squints into the bright light. 

“Wah! SURPRISE!” “Hehe! Surprise, Jumin!” Saeyoung and MC screech, dressed to impress, both sporting white cat ears and paws. “Surprise, Jumin!!  Woo-hoo!” Yoosung pops up from behind the counter, tossing an armful of balloons into the air. 

“Jesus. Well, surprise, trust-fund-kid.” Zen leans from around the sofa, smiling sheepishly at the other man. “Sorry about all this.” The albino laughs and rubs the back of his neck. 

“I was dragged here without my consent. Do not blame me for the home invasion.” Vanderwood growls from next to MC, winning another giggle from the girl and her fiancé.

“Surprise, Jumin Han. I apologize for my brother breaking into your home.” Saeran smiles, shoving his twin away from the white cat as she scuttles to her owner’s side. “Though, I may have helped a little.” Jumin leans down to wrap Elizabeth in his arms as his mouth hangs open in shock. Each face looks back, expectantly and worried. 

“Is he okay?” Yoosung whines, slowly inching closer to Jumin as his eyes dart from person to person. “Is he having a heart attack?!” “Yes.” Saeyoung says confidently, his cat paws resting on his hips. MC nods with him, looking to Yoosung with mock concern. 

“No.” Saeran, Vanderwood and Jaehee reply in a harmony, sharing looks of annoyance. “I know you wanted to be alone after your evening with him but…” Jaehee stood from behind a chair, offering an apologetic smile. “No.” Jumin interrupts her, shaking his head in disbelief. 

Each member of the RFA continues to stare at the man as he wobbles and before anyone can say a word, the director sets his princess down and lurches forward.

With arms wide open, he embraces his friends. With no reservations, no walls of emotions, no tightly wound strings. He holds his friends and finally inhales a full breath of air as each friend wraps their arms back around him. 

Sure, he’s drunk. Very drunk. Sure, he will regret and deny everything tomorrow morning. But tonight, Jumin will laugh with his friends. He will laugh till he cries, indulge in birthday cake, glare as the redheaded twins crown him with matching cat ears. He will open silly and thoughtful gifts and read cheesy and stupid birthday cards. He will refuse to sing karaoke, but instead watch and clap along as Zen and Saeran have a battle of the bands moment. Jumin smiles and laughs to himself, feeling an unseen hand wrap around his shoulders. He closes his eyes and pictures V there, smiling along with him. “Thank you for allowing yourself to enjoy today,” he would probably whisper to his friend. “You deserve this.” Jumin allows himself to believe his friend’s memory. This is what he would have wanted. “Happy birthday, Jumin!!” The RFA cheers together as the song comes to an end, the room lit by smiles and camera flashes. 

And a happy birthday it was, indeed. 

[thinking1bee]

When it Reigns Part 5

Requested by Anonymous

Pairings: Kara Danvers x Reader

Tags: Angst, Kryptonian!Reader, Parent!Reader, Parent!Kara, Estranged Parent, Graphic Depictions of Injuries, Blood, Humor, Bad Dreams, Memory Loss

Everything Taglist: @sammy90682 @nobody13 @owloftheshadows @captain-josslett @camslightstories @worldovart @finleyfray @acertainredhead @sammm9068 @reginassecretlover

It took some more investigative journalism, but you and Kara found out that it was Edge who was behind poisoning the kids. He orchestrated the plan to have chemicals dumped into the pool, and then to frame Lena further by dumping the same chemicals into National City’s water supply. Luckily with some saving from Supergirl, Edge was thrown behind bars and a cure was made for the families afflicted. You sighed for a day well done and you were in the process of saying good night to Angel.

“Will Luke be okay?” she asked you and you smiled.

“Yes. He should be getting better as we speak.”

You leaned down and kissed her forehead when Angel froze.

“Hey what’s wrong?”

She blinked. “You have a hole in your shirt.”

You looked down to see what she was talking about. Sure enough, there was a tear in the fabric of your blouse, and you held it in confusion, wondering how it got there.

“Oh, weird,” you said, shrugging it off. “Sweet dreams, okay?”

Angel nodded before she closed her eyes and you left quietly, smiling fondly as your daughter drifted off to sleep. As you walked down the hall, you felt at the tear in your shirt, and as you kept playing with it, something cold and metallic fell from the torn threads and landed on the floor with a sharp clang. You paused, bending over to pick up the object, and when you inspected it, you saw that it was a bullet.

You were…shot.

And you didn’t feel it.

Your hands went to your stomach, feeling around for anything unusual. You even lifted your shirt to see if there was anything wrong. There was nothing. Just the expanse of smooth and unharmed flesh. You swallowed hard as you looked up, seeing nothing but the emptiness of the hallway in front of you. You couldn’t ignore any of this anymore. You needed answers, so you went into your room and packed a small travel bag. You’d be gone for a day tops and hopefully, you would find what you needed. As you packed, you dialed for Kara, and she answered in the first ring.

“Y/n is everything okay?” she asked, and you smiled. Your darling wife, ever the worrier.

“I’m fine babe,” you replied with the smile playing at your lips. “I was wondering if you would be okay with watching Angel. I need to take a trip.”

You could practically hear Kara fix her glasses while shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Is everything okay?” she asked again.

“I think so. I just need to pay a visit to my mother.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

The question was justified. The relationship between you and your adopted parental figure was less than stable. You’d soon go to hell voluntarily before stepping foot in her house again, but this was important. Something was going on with you and you needed answers. You had to start somewhere.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Kara accepted your promise, trusting that you would be fine like you said. “Okay, just come back soon.”

You smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” you replied, and you disconnected the call.

***

Kara nibbled her lips, staring at the screen when you disconnected the call. She couldn’t help but think that something wears wrong and that you wanted her to think that everything was okay. Whatever it was, she knew that she would have to wrap this up soon. Angel was already home, and judging by the clock on Kara’s phone, was also in bed.

“…Kara?”

Kara looked up to see everyone in the DEO staring at her and she hastily put her phone back in her pocket.

“Sorry.”

“Is everything okay?” Alex asked and Kara shrugged. That was all she could do.

She was so worried about you. Ever since Angel told her about your selective memory loss, she had been so preoccupied with you that it was evoking distracting. She knew she should have followed up with that. She trusted you, as she did, but something was telling her to dive deeper into it and she ignored it. What could be going on that you felt the need to reach out to a woman that you had spoken to in years? Was everything that bad? And what about when Angel got hurt. Angel told her that it was a city light pole that fell on top of her, but she had been less than forthcoming with the details as to how she got free from under it. Things weren’t making any sense.

“Kara?”

Kara blinked and focused on everyone again. Alex had asked her a question and she went on a mental spiral.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, but everyone looked at each other with skepticism. If Kara was truly okay, she wasn’t very convincing about it.

“Are you sure?” Alex asked, mirroring Kara’s early question to you. She nodded.

“Yes. Let’s focus on what caused the earthquake.”

Alex gave her once last look, her eyes searching. Kara nodded, her eyes focused on hers, knowing that she would know what it meant. We’ll talk later. Alex nodded before turning her attention back to the giant screens in front of her.

“Go ahead, Winn.”

Winn typed on his tablet before he dragged his finger across the screen, his wrist flicking, before what was on his tablet appeared on screens for everyone to see. On them was a map, with a single dot highlighted on a specific location. From the dot came virtual shockwaves that pulsed from the single location and spread outwards.

“I was able to pinpoint the exact location of the earthquake,” he explained. “But theres nothing out there.”

Beside him, J’onn nodded and crossed his arms. “I flew from the center and covered the entire area of coverage. There’s nothing there except cracked earth and debris.”

“So, if there’s nothing there, where did the earthquake come from?” Kara asked.

“That’s the mystery,” Winn said as he turned his attention back to the pulsating dot on the screen. Kara watched as the shockwaves emanated from the point over and over, the feeling of foreboding sending a chill down her spine.

***

You pulled up to your mother’s house and put the car in park. She still lived all the way out in Metropolis and was still in the same house and everything. It was like nothing changed. Well almost nothing. She may have stayed the same, but you changed entirely. No matter what happened, you promised to keep your cool. There was a reason why you never so much as sent her a Christmas card. So, you took a deep breath and squared your shoulders, before getting out of the car and knocking on the door. It took a bit of knocking but she finally answered, and she looked at you like she had seen a ghost.

“Y/n?”

“Hello, Elizabeth,” you greeted. “May I come in?”

After some small talk and a glass of water that you still hadn’t drank from, it was finally time to address the elephant in the room. Though if it were up to you, the elephant wouldn’t need to be pointed out anyway. Just acknowledge it and move on.

“I haven’t seen you since…” Elizabeth swallowed thickly, a nervous chuckle escaping her. “Well, you know.

“I couldn’t imagine why you’d expect me to keep in touch after you kicked me out.”

“I did that to teach you a lesson!”

She still believed that? Even after all these years?

“That’s odd because that wasn’t what it felt like.”

She looked away from you, her eyebrows furrowed in hurt, and you had to resist the urge to scoff. Her little act wasn’t going to work on you. You decided that you had enough with strolling down memory lane.

“Do you know where I can find my birth parents?” you asked. At that, her head snapped up and she met your eyes.

“Why?”

“That doesn’t matter. Do you know or not?”

She didn’t answer, she only stared at you, and you could feel your irritation grow. You never asked her of anything, not since she kicked you out, and now that you were asking about your real parents, after all these years, now she wanted to give you a hard time???

“I’m sorry,” was all she said. You smirked and she looked at you.

“You have got to be kidding me. Then at least tell me which adoption agency you adopted me from.”

Elizabeth shook her head, and you actually snapped your fingers, pointing at her as your irritation morphed into rage.

“I’ve never asked you for anything once you threw me out, and this is how you want to play this?!”

“That was to teach you a lesson,” she repeated, like the explanation would make everything okay.

“That what?” you demanded. “That it was never okay for me to like who I liked?”

“You know that I didn’t approve of your homosexual escapades.”

“Oh yeah, and then I dated a guy to make you happy. Good thing for me that he knocked me up and left the moment he found out I was pregnant. I was 19! I needed someone there for me! I needed my mom!”

“Y-you were pregnant?” she whispered, horrified that she hadn’t known until now.

“Yes! And you would have known that if you had just listened to me!”

Elizabeth had thrown you to the side after finding out that you had sex with him. She wanted a good Christian daughter, one that followed every rule in the Bible. That wasn’t you, and no matter how much she tried to force you to learn, or how much she forced you to go to church, it would never be you. Even now. You were happily married and trying your damnedest with your daughter. The relationship with her sperm donor may have been a huge mistake, but Angel never will be that. She was so much more. She was the reason you never gave up, and the woman that was in front of you, was the reason why you never learned to be a good mom. You spent your whole life being what she wanted for her sake.

“Did you keep it?” Elizabeth whispered.

“Her name is Angel,” you said sternly, and you had the satisfaction of watching her flinch. “And I guess by technicality you do have a granddaughter.”

“How is she?”

You stared at her, really stared at her, incredulous that she thought that she had the right to ask about Angel.

“If you think that I would let you, with your religious, Bible thumping poison and rhetoric around her, then I must be on crack.”

Elizabeth sighed. “I’m sorry.”

It was way too late for sorry. That wouldn’t work on you either.

“Do you know anything about my birth parents or the adoption agency that you got me from?” you asked again.

“Why do you want to know so bad?”

You had to stop yourself from screaming in from frustration. Instead, you took a deep breath and looked down.

“Things have been happening to me, Elizabeth,” you started as you looked at her intensely. I keep blacking out to do only God knows what and then I have no recollection of going anywhere or saying anything. Earlier this week, a pole fell on my daughter, and I lifted it clear above my head and threw it away as though it weighed nothing. Yesterday I was at a press conference when someone open fired into the crowd. I was shot, Elizabeth, and I didn’t feel anything. I pulled the crushed bullet from my clothes but there were no marks, no cuts, no anything. The past few weeks have been weird, and I swallowed the anger I have with you to ask you for your help. Now if you know anything, now would be the time to tell me.”

Elizabeth looked at you and was quiet. It seemed like she wasn’t going to say anything until she nodded her head, deciding something internally, before she looked at you.

“Follow me. I want to show you something.”

Part 6

[searchingwardrobes]

Ivory Runs Red: 4/6

Just look at this cover art by @cocohook38 !!!!! Isn’t it amazing? I just can’t stop staring at it. She is so talented and spent so much time working on this, please head over to her blog and give her some love. 

This chapter is sort of a bridge chapter (no pun intended) where we begin to discover connections between all the characters. Belle especially is tied to Emma in a surprising way. 

Massive thanks again to my beta @demisexualemmaswan​ and everyone in the @cssns​ !

Summary: When ebony flashes gold, blood runs cold. When ivory runs red, you’ll be dead. Killian Jones had heard the old rhyme his entire life. Every child did in Storybrooke, Maine. They heard it whispered in the dark at sleepovers as children; taunted as a challenge as teenagers. Killian never believed it was actually true. Until that fateful night …

Rated M for graphic depictions of violence, abusive relationships, and major character death (I mean, it’s a ghost story ya’ll, people are dead. BUT I promise, there is a happy ending. Trust me? *peeks from around a corner*)

Length: 6 chapters, complete, updated every Friday

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @xhookswenchx @let-it-raines @bethacaciakay @tiganasummertree @shireness-says @stahlop @scientificapricot @spartanguard @welllpthisishappening @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @kday426 @ekr032-blog-blog @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl @profdanglaisstuff @ohmakemeahercules @carpedzem @branlovestowrite @superchocovian@hollyethecurious @vvbooklady1256 @winterbaby89 @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @snidgetsafan @itsfabianadocarmo @lassluna @distant-rose @courtorderedcake @winterbythesea @thesschesthair @killian-whump @thisonesatellite @batana54 @it-meant-something @xsajx @therooksshiningknight @gingerchangeling​

Chapter Four: Red

“Neal Gold,” Belle said, her voice trembling with excitement, “no wonder it got covered up.”

Belle struggled with an ancient tome on the top shelf in the library’s genealogy room, and Killian rushed to help her. When they set it atop the metal desk nearby, a cloud of dust billowed up. The genealogy room was hidden away in the basement too. 

“I still can’t believe Graham went to the bridge,” Belle continued. He’d never seen her so giddy with excitement. “This will show everyone Killian! You aren’t crazy!”

Killian nodded weakly. He knew it was true, and he knew that Graham getting Neal’s last name from Emma was a huge break for them, but he was starting to worry. He wanted to help Emma by solving her murder, but he also didn’t want to lose her. Didn’t ghosts linger because they had unfinished business? If he, Belle, and Graham, took care of Emma’s unfinished business, then would she . . . what? Move on to paradise? Cease to exist?

“Killy, did you hear what I said?” 

He shook the thoughts from his head and focused on Belle who stood over the huge book, her finger pointing to its binding. 

“Um, sorry. What did you say?”

“I tried to look up Swan, Emma, but the entire S section is missing.”

Belle’s fingers ran along the torn edges of several pages. Killian ran his hand wearily down his face. 

“Of course it is. So no birth certificate there either.”

“Wait a minute!” Belle exclaimed. “We know she died in 1894, and we know she was sixteen years old.”

“Which means she was born in 1878. We figured that out already. But the birth certificates from that entire year are also missing, remember?”

Belle nodded. “Yes, yes, the Gold family had money and power and were very thorough, but they may not have thought about baby announcements.”

Killian grinned. “Parents put baby announcements in the newspaper! Belle, you’re a genius!”

They ran down the short hallway to the microfilm room. Belle quickly pulled out the film for 1878 and put it in the machine. Once they figured out where the social section of the paper was located, they were able to scroll fairly quickly. And then - there it was. Just a few short lines: 

David and Mary Margaret Swan are pleased to announce the birth of their daughter, Emma Eva Swan, on October 22nd, 1878 at three o-clock in the afternoon. She is welcomed by her paternal grandmother, Ruth Elizabeth Swan, and her maternal grandfather, Leopold Blanchard.

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

“David and Mary Margaret,” Emma whispered. 

Killian tightened his hold around her shoulders and brushed a kiss against the crown of her head. “They were your parents.”

Emma nodded slowly, and he watched her facial expression under the light of the waning moon. He could practically see happy memories light up her face. 

��I remember them,” she whispered. “We didn’t have a lot of money, but we were very happy. We lived on a farm.”

She dropped her head onto Killian’s shoulder and let out a contented sigh. They remained that way for a long moment, silently watching the stars twinkle overhead. 

“She had a beautiful smile,” Emma told him quietly, “and he used to cup my head so tenderly whenever he hugged me. That’s all I remember, though. Their faces are even fuzzy in my memory.”

“I’m sorry.”

She turned in his embrace so she could look him in the eye. “Don’t be. I wouldn’t remember anything if it weren’t for you. Thank you, Killian.”

She pulled his head down gently so she could press her lips to his. They lost themselves in the passion of their kisses.

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

Killian sat with Belle once again in the library’s musty basement. Books with cracked leather bindings were piled around them: genealogy records, property records, and marriage certificates. With names and the information that Emma grew up on a farm, they were able to piece together the history of the Swan and Gold families. 

There was no evidence, however, of the Swan’s reporting their daughter was missing. In fact, aside from the birth announcement in the paper, there was no evidence that Emma Swan had existed at all. Everytime they got close, records were conveniently missing. Pages had clearly been torn out of several books, and years worth of Storybrooke Mirror and Portland Press articles were missing from the microfilm records. 

“It’s so obvious, though,” Belle exclaimed in frustration, slamming yet another large book shut. “Neal Gold falls in love with Emma Swan, a poor farmer’s daughter. His family would never approve of the relationship, so he never plans on marrying her. She’s just a good time to him.”

“I’m still a little grossed out by how old he was,” Killian muttered. 

Those records hadn’t been missing. Neal Gold was absolutely, unequivocally twenty nine years old when he met fourteen year old Emma Swan. Which made him thirty one when he got her pregnant and murdered her. 

Disgusting. 

“Belle? Did you hear me?”

His friend had gone completely pale, her finger frozen in the center of a yellowed page. Killian got up and leaned over her shoulder. 

“What’s this?”

She flipped the heavy leather volume back to the cover with a deep sigh. Killian leaned further over his shoulder and read the title out loud. 

“The Life, Impact, and Genealogy of Storybrooke’s Founding Family: The Golds. Well that’s not pretentious at all,” he snorted. Belle giggled. “By -”

He cut off, reeled back, and looked at Belle, who nodded in affirmation. “By Roderick Gaston?”

“There’s more,” Belle told him, flipping back to the page that had left her frozen. 

It was a family tree, and Killian scanned it quickly. At the top was Robert Gold, the founder of Storybrooke, with his wife Milah’s name beside his. Below that, it listed their only son: Neal Gold. He married Tamara Gold in 1894, the same year Emma died.

“Well, there’s another motive for murder,” Killian murmured, “not only did he get a teenager pregnant, he was cheating on his fiance.”

“Keep going,” Belle whispered. 

Neal and Tamara had three children: Bonnie, Felix, and Gretchen. The oldest daughter, Bonnie, had married Roderick Gaston, and they had two sons: Lewis and Mitchum Gaston.

“Wait - isn’t Mike’s dad Mitch Gaston?”

“Yes,” Belle told him softly, “and I met his grandfather once, too. His name is Roderick. I never put two and two together before, but the man was the worst snob. He kept asking who my people were and going on and on about how the Gaston’s were connected to Storybrooke’s finest families.”

“So this means that your boyfriend -”

“Is the descendant of Emma’s murderer.”

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

“Where the hell are you going?”

Killian jumped at the sound of his brother’s voice. He whirled away from the back door to find Liam standing in the kitchen with the phone in his hand. Killian could hear the loud, grating beeping of the line as it went dead. 

“Who were you talking to at 3 am?” Killian shot back. 

Liam narrowed his eyes then slowly put the phone back onto the receiver that hung on the wall. He took his time untangling the long cord before turning back to face Killian.

“Something’s happened, little brother.”

Liam’s voice was so full of fear, shock, and sadness that Killian didn’t even bother correcting him on the little brother label. 

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

The girl in the hospital bed couldn’t possibly be Belle. Her eyes were wild and darted around the room, her hair was a tangled mass around her face, and when she saw Killian she began to scream. 

“I saw her, Killy! The ghost! The blood, the blood, the blood . . .” 

Orderlies ran in and grabbed her before she could lunge from the bed. She fought them tenaciously, her back arching and her eyes rolling back in her head.

“Ivory runs red, ivory runs red. He’s dead, he’s dead.” She started to laugh maniacally as one orderly managed to get a syringe into her veins. They wrestled her to the bed and strapped her down, but she continued to speak, her words slurring. “He’s dead, dead, dead.”

She arched her back one more time, mumbling about ivory and red, shaking her head back and forth. Then she began to say the rhyme they had learned as children, singing it to a morbid little tune. 

“When ebony flashes gold, blood runs cold. When ivory runs red, you’ll be dead.”

Killian felt the blood rush from his head, leaving his skin cold in the sterile room as he watched Belle’s breaths even out. He knew the kinds of drugs running through her veins, God did he know. He also knew no one would believe her. 

Mike Gaston was dead, and Killian couldn’t muster a modicum of grief. 

[mudhorn-djarin19]

Mission: I Do - Chp. 1 (Agent Whiskey x f!reader)

Summary: A new mission has come up and you are sent off on it with Agent Whiskey as your partner. However, you have to go undercover as his fiancee. What will this mission mean for you and your harboring crush on him? This chapter is the set up to the mission. Rating: General (will change in future chapters) Warnings: None but some fluff AO3 Link | Masterlink | Join my taglist via here!  More chapters to come soon (will be added here)

You sat at the big long table amongst the other Statesman as Champ handed out the reports for your next missions. A bunch of reports have come up across the country of some trouble so he was having you agents partner up and travel to each destination that showed trouble.

“Agent Sangria and Agent Whiskey. Here is your file. You two will be partnered up together for this mission.” Champ says, sliding a file folder over to each of you.

You sigh slightly. You love being partnered with Whiskey when you can cause it meant more time around him, time to get to know him better and etc. He may get on your nerves a lot for he’s a big flirt and sometimes likes to push people’s buttons but deep down you found the man attractive. You’ve been growing a crush on him for a while but you knew nothing would ever come from it. He was such a big shot within Statesman, he probably was the same outside of work too. You open the file fold and start looking over your information for the mission when you spot some information that surprises you.

“Everything okay Agent Sangria?” Champ asks.

“Sir… I’m going undercover as… Whiskey’s fiancee?” You question.

“That’s right. You and Agent Whiskey will be going undercover as a couple for this mission. The culprit has been found kidnapping brides and sometimes bombing venues. We need you two to go to a bridal convention held in Dallas where he was last heard of being. I am sending you two cause you both work together well and seem to have the best chemistry out of our agents. I’ll let the rest of the details for you two to go over together.” He says.

You gulp and slightly look up at Whiskey who has that typical dumb smirk he always has on his face as he looks at you. “Well… seems I’m gettin’ hitched again. Who knew it’d be so easy.” He chuckles as he elbows Tequila sitting next to him who also chuckles. 

Champ had let you both go home shortly after the meeting to gather up all your supplies for your trip. Whiskey said he’d come pick you up later this evening before your flight out. You sit down on your bed and groan into your hands. This is going to be a tough weekend you think to yourself. Not only are you going on a mission alone with Whiskey again but you have to act as his fiancee all weekend?! The thoughts of what could go on cause you to feel sick with nerves. You shake your head and get back up and start rummaging through your closet finding what you can for the weekend. Some nice dresses and jewelry, some casual but cute clothes, and even some of your cuter sets of undergarments. Just in case you think. Just as you finished packing everything into your suitcases you hear your doorbell ring. You open the door to see Whiskey leaning up against the door frame.

“You ready for our weekend getaway darlin’?” He winks at you.

You sigh in response and motion your hand over to your suitcases and bags. “Care to help me load this into your car?” You ask

“Certainly.” He says stepping into your place, slinging your bag over his shoulder and grabbing both the suitcases in each hand. “Didn’t forget anything did ya?” You stare at him in disbelief. “Uh no. I got everything. Also… I can take one of them, you don’t need to take them all for me.” “Nonsense. This ain’t nothin’.” He says as he makes his way down the tiny walkway to his Bronco parked out front, placing them into the back seat. You shake your head in response and check to make sure all the lights and appliances are off before grabbing your keys and locking up, meeting him at the car. 

“Ah ah… allow me future Mrs...” He smirks, opening the car door for you. “Oh yea and before I forget Champ gave me this for you”

He grabs your left hand and slides a sparkly diamond ring onto your ring finger. Your eyes go wide in how fancy it is. “Can’t be my fiancee without a way to show it off.” He chuckles, walking around to his side of the car and then starting it.

“Y-yea..” You say, staring at it and twisting it between your fingers to admire it more.

You arrived at the airport and got all checked in okay with the tickets Champ got you. The flight didn’t take long, only a few hours. You two slept most of the way. You got your rental car, luggage loaded in and headed off to the designated hotel where you would be staying for the weekend. 

The bridal convention and events you were to attend for the weekend were being held at a local convention center so to stay close to the action in case anything went down and to blend in a bit more, Champ had scheduled for you guys to stay at a hotel nearby. 

Jack helped you with your bags out of the rental car, taking more than he needed to. You two walked up together to the check in counter.

“Good day sir and ma’am. Checking in?” The lady at the counter asks.

“Yes ma’am. Reservation should be under Joseph Daniels.” Jack says giving his partially fake name assigned to him for the weekend.

“Ah yes here we are. Joseph Daniels and Elizabeth Wallace?” The lady asks

Jack nods, handing her the company card to pay for the room. She hands you both your key cards and information packs on some things for the area. 

“I take it you guys are in the area for the bridal convention? Seeing as you have the honeymoon suite booked?” She smiles.

“Yes indeed.” He smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. You smile back nervously. 

“Well congratulations to you both! Let me get you the information packets for the event as well then.” She says, grabbing them and adding them to your pile.

You two gather your belongings and make your way to the elevators up to your room. You figured since the honeymoon suite was booked for the weekend it was going to be fancy but you had just no idea how until you opened the door. Flower petals littering the floor, candles surrounding the tub in the bathroom and chocolates on the little table inside the door with a congratulations note. You feel like this was some sort of tease to you about your crush with Jack. Did Champ know and send you on this mission for that reason?! 

“Uh…” You stutter out, taken by surprise.

“Champ sent me a message earlier telling me what room we had. Said everyone attending the event has these rooms, makes us blend in better and might help us run into the culprits better.” Jack states. 

“Oh, okay.” You say quietly, setting your bags down. “So um… look darlin’ I don’t want to make you uncomfortable this weekend. So I’ll sleep on the love seat over here. You can have the bed to yourself.” “Whis-” You start to say. “Jack. He replies. “I know we are used to calling each other our codenames but this weekend call me by my real name. Unless out on the field you know but, still. Hell, you can do so even not when on this mission.” He chuckles.

“Jack. You don’t have to sleep on the sofa. Your back’s going to be killing you afterwards. I don’t mind taking the sofa instead. We can um… share. It’ll be fine.” You say shyly.

“You sure? I really don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He says, stepping closer and looking down into your eyes. “It’s fine. You’re not going to make me uncomfortable. A lot more is going to have to happen between us this weekend I’m sure and sharing a simple bed is at the bottom of the list of awkwardness for me.” You chuckle.

“Alright. If you say so.” He pats your head and works at unpacking his suitcase while you head off to the bathroom.

You just finished your shower and changing for the night when you stepped out into the bedroom to see Jack laying shirtless in nothing but flannel pj pants on the bed watching the local news. You stop in your tracks, admiring at just how handsome he looked. You must have been standing there staring for a bit too long when he looked over at you and called out.

“Everything okay? Did you change your mind about sharing? ‘Cause if so I can still move and go to the sofa.” He asks

You shake yourself out or your dazed state and start heading over to the bed and crawling, in under the covers. “No no. It’s okay, stay where you are. Sorry I was just thinking about um… something else.” “Alrighty then. Also if me being shirtless bothers you I’ll put one on. This is just how I usually sleep.” He says looking down at his torso. For being such a flirt and a nuisance at times he was surely a gentleman deep down inside. Always checking with you on if things were okay and making sure you were comfortable.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.” You reply, get snuggled in under the covers for the night. “We have a big day ahead of us so I’m going to get some shut eye.”

“Sounds like a plan. Me too.” He says, shutting off the tv and lights, crawling under the covers with you.

Taglist: @sarahjkl82-blog​ @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange​ @blackberries45​

[sarah-writes-marvel]

After-Party Showdown: MCU Cast x Fem!Reader (platonic)

S.S.” Ive literally had this fic finsihed since like Febuary so its a little rough but let me know how you like it!

Warnings: Blood, predetor male (Sorry to anyone named Eric... im sure your very kind), rudness..., sexual talk (kinda)

Word Count:1,710

MASTERLIST

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

We had finished watching the premiere of the newest Avenger movie and the set, cast and a few selected friends returned to the reserved reception room at the hotel that many were staying at. 

RDJ, Tom Holland, Hiddelston and Gwenth were talking with a few friends of theirs and some of the set members. Chris Evans, Hemsworth, Elizabeth and Scarlett were also in their own separate group that was somewhat merged with Sebastian, Anthony, Don and Paul.

I was new blood to the crew, and although I was immediately accepted by the cast, I watched them mingle from the bar.

Eventually people began to disperse, mainly people that worked the cameras and the background actions. Basically leaving the actors and actresses and their few friends they brought with. 

I continued to sit at the bar talking with various people that came to refill drinks, even had a lovely conversation with the bartender, who seemed slightly star stucken. Nearing the end of the night a charming gentleman came to my side and struck up a conversation with me as we sipped away at our drinks.

“Hello beautiful. I’ve got to say you’re way too pretty to be over here on your own.” he said with a pearly white smile.

“Oh well thank you.” I blushed at his compliment. 

“So why aren’t you mingling with everyone? I've seen you sitting over here all night.” he replied, studying my face.

“I’m more of a people watcher. Introverted and all that jazz.” I reply taking a sip of my drink looking at the cast laughing and talking.

“Alright I can understand that. Do you want to be less introverted and hang out with me?” He replied with a sly tone in his voice.

“Well you sitting next to me talking aren’t you?” I stated. “In my book that’s considered hanging out.”

“Well I meant more along the lines of a nice walk and maybe heading back to my place.” His statement was blunt and outgoing.

“Oh well, I appreciate the invitation but I have to decline.” I replied as kindly as possible.

“Oh come on sweetheart. Why not?” His voice whined.

“First I don’t know your name. Second, I'm not a one night stand kinda girl, I'm assuming that’s what you had in mind.” I looked at him pointedly and annoyed.

“I’m sure I could change your mind. I’m Eric. It’s wonderful to meet you.” He held his hand out and finally introduced himself.

“I wish you would’ve led with your name.”

“Duly noted.” he retracted his hand before he kept talking. “So what’s your name?”

“Y/n.”

“Very hot.” his comment caused me to roll my eyes just slightly.

“If you are going to try and complement my clothes off you should stop now.” 

“Why? Because it’s going to work.” He leaned in, the brandy apparent on his breath, his hand sneaking around my waist.

“No,it won’t work. I would also appreciate you not touching me.” I said scooting a few inches away.

“Oh come on. You know you want to have a good time.”

“I was having a good time.” Even I could recognize the annoyance in my voice. I continued to watch my friends talk amongst themselves, saying goodbye to others.

“I can make it so much better though. I mean the dress is just begging to come off. It would be a great addition to my floor.”

“Excuse me?” I set my drink down on the bar, standing up and crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“Oh please. You wore that so you could get compliments didn’t you?” His eyes looked at the dress that hung on my body. It was a decently modest midnight blue dress. It hugged my waist, the skirt ended just above the knee, it even had long sleeves. The only suggestive thing about it was the vneck and the open back.

“Yes. Compliments. That was not a compliment. That was a shitty way to try and pick up someone.” I replied.

“Oh please. You should be happy that I asked you.” His face turned to anger almost as if he was annoyed.

“I’m perfectly happy turning down your request. I hope that you have a good night.” I turned heading towards the group to leave behind the creep at the bar but a hand wrapped around my wrist and pulled me back.

“What the hell do you think you are doing.” My voice was stern yet quiet doing my best not to create a scene.

“I’m going to ask again until you say yes.” he’s hand tightened around my wrist.

“Let go of my wrist.” I demanded a little louder wishing that the bartender hadn’t left to retrieve more ice and alcohol.

“Not till you say yes.” He seethed. I tugged against the resistance on my wrist trying to pull away. “Quit being such a bitch and take the compliment that I actually want to sleep with you.” His voice was hot against my neck when he leaned in to whisper that into my ear. I snapped. 

I twisted my arm causing his hand to turn with it allowing me to break free, gripping his wrist pulling him from his seat wrapping his hand behind his back and shoving his face into the bar. Suddenly all eyes are on the interaction.

“First of all, I don’t need to feel grateful for you telling me that I look beautiful, I’ve heard it many times, and that my clothes would look better on your floor.” I let go of my hold, Evans and RDJ approached the two of us. Eric stood up, raising his hand, almost in an attempt to hit me.

“I wouldn’t do that.” Evans said before Eric moved.

“Don't tell me what to do with my girlfriend.We we’re just having a nice conversation.” Eric smirked, his hand placed on my waist.

“Seriously. You seriously just did that?” RDJ laughed.

“What? Did you come to save her or something?”

“Oh no. We aren’t saving her. She can easily take you on her own. We’re just suggesting that you don’t do that because it’ll come with an asswhopping from a young woman in heels and many lawsuits.” RDJ started with a smug tone.

“There is no way in hell that she'll be able to take me. Plus I've got amazing lawyers.” Eric spat back with a smirk.

“Oh ya, no. You really don’t want to challenge her.” Hemsworth commented. Eric looked at him with anger in his eyes. I picked up my glass from the counter, taking a sip and holding onto it so I wouldn’t punch his face.

“Whatever.” he turned towards me. “Good luck ever getting laid with your attitude.You’re nothing without a man's approval you know. Even had to have these people come to your rescue.” 

His voice was quiet and annoyed trying to dig under my skin. And it did a little bit, but it just fueled my anger toward him. I looked at him and the glass shattered in my hand as I tightened my grip. The glass fell to my feet the remaining liquid splashing onto my dress and onto his outfit. 

“You can go.” I even scared myself with the tone of my voice as I spoke. The look of fear in the man's eyes gave me a sense of pleasure that I put him in his place. He pushed his way through the group that had surrounded us and rushed through the exit.

“Well then. What a dick.” I started watching the door close. My hand was still in a fist and I held my other hand underneath, feeling the blood from the cuts drip into a puddle in my palm.

Everyone looked at me shocked.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to involve anybody. Is everyone ok?” I looked at the astonished faces of my friends.

“Are you seriously asking if we're ok?” RDJ questioned.

“Well ya.” I shrugged my shoulders looking at everyone who all seemed very concerned.

“You just crushed a glass with your bare hand. You are bleeding. We should be asking you that!” He exclaimed.

“Oh ya. I’m fine. I really hate guys like that though.” I looked down at my dripping hand and turned around to face the bar. I reached behind grabbing one of the clean white towels, dipping it into the cup of water that I had at the spot I was sitting. I began cleaning the affected wounds when Evans took over.

“You know I knew that you could take Hemsworth and I but I never knew you could do this! You gotta be careful. Someone might think you've got some super soldier serum flowing in your blood.” He smiled as he wiped away the blood and examined the cut in the center of my palm for glass. “Alright this may hurt just a bit.” He began tightly wrapping the cloth around my hand, tucking the end into itself.

“You should go to a doctor to get that properly taken care of.” Scarlett added.

“That's a good idea.” I agreed, standing from the seat that I had been pushed down on. “Well I had a great night with y’all! I hope I didn't ruin it with that little fiasco.” I smiled grabbing my clutch from the bar and walking through the group.

“Well where the hell are you going?” RDJ questioned.

“The hospital to get stitches, you know like Scar suggested.” I was confused at his question.

“Well someone’s gotta go with ya.” Evans stated.

“Ya. We’ll go with you. The night is still young!” RDJ exclaimed standing up and meeting me.

“You don't all have to come, it'll just be a couple of stitches.” I laughed.

“Too late I called the limo already. We're taking a trip to the hospital!” RDJ celebrated. Soon the rest of the crew was chiming in on a “To the hospital” chant as we made our way out the door, earning confused and concerned looks from the staff of the hotel. 

To say the hospital staff was surprised to see the cast of the marvel movies enter the emergency was an understatement, but I was glad to have the best people around me, even if it was for a few stitches.

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

Like I said it was one of the first fics I had written a while ago... But I hope you liked it! thanks for reading!

[anextraordinarymuse]

Why does Elizabeth keep running away?

This is something that I've seen a lot of people struggling with, and something that I myself have struggled with once or twice this season. Why does Elizabeth keep running away from Nathan? Just tell him you don't love him, Elizabeth, and to please stop waiting for/pursuing you, and let everyone move on.

But she doesn't do or say anything like that. At all. The first time Nathan gets close to her in 8x02 and they share that moment where it seems like they're going to kiss ... Elizabeth says "I can't." That's it. That's actually the only thing she has said in regards to Nathan and how he feels or a possible relationship between them. She tells Rosemary that she made the right choice not to be with Nathan, and she tells Helen Bouchard that Nathan isn't a suitor ... but the only thing she's said to Nathan is "I can't." Elizabeth neither encourages nor outright discourages Nathan. Even though it would certainly make things easier if she'd just tell him no outright, or even pull that tired old lie where she says "I don't love you" or "I don't feel the same" (even though the audience knows that's not true). Nope.

We're just left with Elizabeth and her fear and, dare I say, trauma responses. Yep, you heard me: Elizabeth running away is a trauma response. She struggles deeply with everything that has been happening - she can't tell Nathan yes, but she can't tell him no, either; she struggles to process what he's said, and how they both feel, and anxiety is a powerful trigger of the fight or flight response.

Elizabeth isn't testing, Nathan, exactly ... but, on the other hand, she kind of is (unwittingly). I think the first time Nathan told her he loved her she thought that things would blow over - that he'd move on and get over her. And his initial reaction probably reinforced that belief. Because Nathan tried to accept her "I can't." He did. He tried to be understanding, and he tried to walk away - but he loves her. He loves her so much that he's a lighthouse in the hurricane. No matter who comes at him, no matter how hard the struggle or exhausted he must be, Nathan just won't give up.

And here's the thing about foundations: they have to be set carefully, and deeply, because they have to be able to withstand everything. As unintentional as it may have been, Elizabeth built a new foundation with Nathan. The strength of that foundation is being tested now. It has to withstand so much: pain, misunderstanding, missed chances, neglect, anger, grief ... but we know that it'll be fine. Because we have taken the measure of Nathan, our lighthouse in the storm, and he is immovable. He is certain, and steadfast - and that's exactly what Elizabeth needs. That's what she's going to need moving forward and trying to work through and toward a new, unanticipated love. Because working through it isn't always going to be easy for Elizabeth, or for Nathan. Deciding to allow themselves to love another, and to be together, is nowhere near the end of the work that these two will need to do. But that foundation is important, because it'll be what they rely on, and what they trust. It'll reassure one or both of them at different times that the strength and certainty of their love will carry them through whatever struggles they have to face.

I've said before that it's clear that Nathan has been set up to be the leading man in Elizabeth's life (and, thus, the show). And that's more true now than ever. But one of the other things I think this season has been doing is laying that foundation for the audience, and for Elizabeth: it's imperative that Nathan is steady and patient and loving and accepting right now, when it would be easiest for him not to be. Elizabeth told Lucas that she was going to need them to take things slow, but this is actually what she meant. This mess with Nathan is what she meant about going slowly: because she's going to be obstinate, and afraid, and guilty, and sometimes it's going to feel like an uphill battle on the ice with only a bobsled that wants to go the other way to get you to the top.

And Nathan is giving that to her. He doesn't seek her out, but he doesn't ignore her; every time Elizabeth has approached him recently he meets her with open body language (not one bit of defensiveness is evident in the way he presents himself) no matter how tense their interaction. He accepts whatever she throws at him and gives her room to be who she is and feel however she feels. At no point does he try to defend himself, or negate whatever she's feeling, or try to lead her in any way. He's just there for her. He answers her questions but does not try to make himself look better; he is open and vulnerable for both of them, because he knows that right now Elizabeth can't be. She can't meet him there yet.

And listen, Elizabeth must be exhausted at this point. The moment between Nathan saying "I fell in love with you, and I think that love is always worth fighting for" and Elizabeth leaving, she looks like she is a hair's breadth from falling apart. She's just about totally undone at that moment, and no matter how messy things are between her and Nathan right now, I honestly think part of her just wanted to collapse in his arms right there. And he was so close ... so her two options were to give in or run away.

So she runs away.

Again.

But she keeps coming back to Nathan. He's her touchstone, really - she wanders away from him, pushes him away, but always there's that tether connecting them. It's never long before she gravitates back to him, and even if their interactions are fraught, it still has that same effect of sort of centering her. Nathan is still there; he still believes she's a good friend, and a good person; he still loves her. Every time Elizabeth runs away and then comes back to find that that foundation is still there it reinforces what she's afraid to acknowledge: that what her and Nathan share is immutable, and permanent. What we see is this exhausting kind of cat and mouse game, but it actually serves an important purpose: reinforcement. Traumatized people struggle with feelings of safety and security, and that's part of what we're seeing Elizabeth struggle with here as well.

But you know where else we've seen this struggle? Who else we see struggle with this?

Allie.

Yep. The girl who lost her mom and then was abandoned by her father. Nathan says it himself when he's arguing with Elizabeth in 8x09: Allie feels safe in Hope Valley (indicating by inference that Allie hasn't felt safe anywhere else). Allie has lived through a lot of trauma and still struggles with that, as we've seen, and her touchstone is also Nathan. This is why I think Elizabeth wasn't only speaking of Allie when she says "I tried to tell you at Allie's parent-teacher conference. You are her rock, you are her foundation. If you let her down her whole world crumbles." Now, Nathan has told Elizabeth something that has let her down, and what do we see in the very next episode? Elizabeth's world crumbling. She fights with her best friend, snaps at Lucas, is generally feeling lost and on edge ... because her foundation has suffered a bit of an earthquake.

And that's another reason why it's so important that Elizabeth knows that Rosemary didn't encourage Nathan, and that he repeated her words back to her by pure chance - because they are that aligned, and not because someone coached him. In fact, I think when Elizabeth learns that Rosemary actually discouraged Nathan from holding out for Elizabeth, it will only reassure her of the strength of his love even more. Again, he's that lighthouse in her storm.

So, why does Elizabeth keep running away from him? Why doesn't she just tell him no, outright, unequivocally? Because she doesn't want to - because she can't. She'll test that tether that connects them, and stretch it to its limits, but she won't break it. She doesn't want to break it. No matter how difficult it is, Elizabeth wants Nathan to love her because she loves him. I don't think that she knows exactly what to do with the fact that he's fighting for her, but she clearly doesn't want him to stop fighting for her. And this is how the best relationships persevere: because when one of you wants to give up, the other is there to fight; when one of you is impatient, the other is patient; when one of you is lost, the other is there to help you find your way.

And we're about to start seeing the turn, where Elizabeth runs to Nathan instead of away. We're about to see that the foundation is still holding firm as the rubble settles, and that our lighthouse is still there - a beacon that guides our wayward ship home.

[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

Foto: Panorama Helsinki / Finland - Dom und Parlamentsplatz (by tap5a)

“We only do this for Fergus!” is a short Outlander Fan Fiction story and my contribution to the Outlander Prompt Exchange (Prompt 3: Fake Relationship AU: Jamie Fraser wants to formally adopt his foster son Fergus, but his application will probably not be approved... unless he is married and/or in a committed relationship. Enter one Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp (Randall?) to this story) @outlanderpromptexchange​

Chapter 1: Life offers you many surprises

Berlin, Französische Straße Friday, 25 July 2025, 8.50 a.m.

         Five minutes earlier, Claire Elisabeth Beauchamp had entered the large, light gray house, built in the neo-Renaissance style that dominated the whole Forum Fridericianum. In the lobby, which was dominated by marble and dark wood, Claire was greeted by a receptionist. She was asked to sit down for a moment in one of the dark leather armchairs, of which four were grouped around an elegant round table. As she waited, her eyes wandered up the high walls of the entrance hall. A few steps of a staircase led out of the hall through a large glass door that ended in a round arch at the top, reminiscent of a gate entrance. Above it was a large ornament of dark stones inlaid in the light marble. The ornament showed a circle, which, as it seemed, was formed from a belt. The words "Je suis prest" could be read in the curve of the circle and in the center of the ornament was the head of a stately stag, which looked directly at the observer.

“Französische Straße Berlin” by Jörg Zägel / CC BY-SA (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)

         Claire knew that the French motto meant "I am ready!", but just as she was wondering what the sign meant, an older lady approached her. She introduced herself as Mrs. Fitz-Gibbons. This employee, whose blue costume gave the impression of a uniform, led Claire down various small staircases and long corridors to the room where she was now sitting. Wherever they had gone in this house, it had been extremely quiet. The heavy, dark red carpets that covered all the stairs and hallways, had swallowed every sound of their footsteps. Now she sat in a room whose furnishings were characterized by dark wood and light brass and whose dimensions were more like those of a hall. But it was the antechamber of the CEO’s office of "Fraser & Son International" and behind the large double-winged door that Claire was now looking at was the study of Dr. James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, one of the country's leading business owners.         Until two weeks ago, Claire did not know the man's name or that of his company. She didn't care about the gossip press, which also reported on the local "high society" in Berlin. But then Geillis Duncan, her best friend, came by one evening and showed her a job ad from the "Wirtschaftswoche" newspaper. At first Claire was completely surprised. How did Geillis, who loved to read the gossip press, come to show her an ad from Germany's leading weekly magazine for managers?

         "Dave left it on the kitchen table, and since I didn't have anything else at hand, I looked into it while having breakfast. But now take a look at this job ad!"

Geillis had emphatically pointed to an ad that featured the same ornament as the one she had seen in the lobby.          Claire had started reading. A pedagogically trained caregiver was needed for an almost seven-year-old child. The woman should speak fluent German, English and French. Further foreign language skills were welcome but not required. Furthermore, an extensive general education and an impeccable curriculum vitae (i.e. no entries in the Federal Central Crime Register) were expected. Special emphasis was placed on the knowledge and practice of the literature written by Adolph Freiherr Knigge. Three times the current monthly salary was offered, 30 days paid vacation, free board and lodging, private health insurance 1st class.

         "Just imagine Claire!" the girlfriend had exclaimed enthusiastically, "If you got this job and worked there for a few years, all your problems would be solved!”

         Geillis was right, well, almost. Surely not all her problems would be solved. But the financial problems she had to deal with could at least be significantly reduced by this job. She had to acknowledge that and so Claire, Geillis and her friend Dave met that very evening to write a letter of application. Dave, who worked for a large media company at Potsdamer Platz, immediately agreed to help her with his knowledge. The next day, Claire had sent off the application. Then she had bought an updated edition of "The Knigge" and started reading it. Shortly after, Geillis came and brought her a large pile of current newspaper clippings so Claire could learn all she needed to know about the person of James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser and the family business he ran.

         She learned a lot about the company from various business magazines, but the person of James Fraser seemed almost like a phantom. It seemed to her that this man also didn't care about the so-called "high society" and obviously he didn't deliver any headlines to the gossip press. There was neither an article about him nor a photo of him on the company's homepage. Even a Wikipedia article with his name only gave the basic data (birthday, place of birth, family, studies) and otherwise dealt more with the globally active company. "Fraser & Son International" was one of the few family-owned companies that to this day had no shareholders and, having invested in a wide range of economic sectors, not only survived the financial crisis of 2008 well, but had even emerged from it stronger. In this Wikipedia article, however, there was a photo by James Fraser. It showed him with a group of business leaders at a national conference. However, this picture was over eight years old and also very pixelated. At some point everything turned in Claire's head and she hoped that she had not learned all this information for nothing. If she would at least be invited for a job interview.          Ten days later, she hadn't dared to hope that she would ever hear of Fraser & Son International, and to her surprise, her smartphone rang just before the lunch break began. A Dr. Ned Gowan called on behalf of the company, explained that he was the lawyer for "Fraser & Son International" and asked if she could come for an interview at the company's headquarters two days later at 9:00 am. She told him that she had to ask her department head to give her time off first and would call back. As the summer vacation period was over, it was no problem to get a day off and so she called Dr Gowan fifteen minutes later and agreed to meet him (and Dr. Fraser!) two days later. Claire had to be extremely restrained not to cheer out loud. This would have immediately drawn the attention of her colleagues in the department, and she definitely did not want to tell them about it. During lunch break, she left the clinic and sat down on a bench in a nearby park. From there she called Geillis and told her the good news. Right after the end of her shift, the friends met in the parking lot of the clinic to go into town together and pick out a suitable "outfit" for Claire's job interview. Geillis, who had worked as a freelance fashion consultant for many years before she met "the rich Dave", dragged her friend directly to the fashion department of the KaDeWe. There, after a while, they found a muted dark green business costume that emphasized Claire's figure but still looked respectable.

“Kaufhaus des Westens (KaDeWe) - Foto by Avi1111 dr. avishai teicher / CC BY-SA (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)

         "That's perfect," exclaimed Geillis as Claire stepped out of the dressing room.          "Yes, perfectly too expensive for me. Have you seen the price?"          "Don't worry about that," Geillis replied. Then she whispered:          "I'll pay for it. If the job doesn't work out, we'll just give it back afterwards. And if you get the job and want to keep it, you'll give me the money back when you get your first salary.”

         They bought the costume and also a matching blouse and shoes. Claire was not allowed to think about the amount of money they had spent within a few hours or she would get sick.          But that was all forgotten at that moment. Now it was time to concentrate and make a good impression.          Mrs. Fitz-Gibbons had led her into this room and instructed her to use one of the twelve large brown leather armchairs. With the words          "You will be called in when it is your turn,"          she had said goodbye.          Claire had taken a seat and scanned the room as inconspicuously as possible. Seven other women sat in leather armchairs of the same type, which were set up on three side walls of the room, each separated by a small table. On the tables were glasses and bottles of mineral water, but none of the other women had made use of them. Claire had not intended to drink anything either. She was far too excited to drink, and she was afraid that she might have to go to the bathroom in the middle of her upcoming job interview. Slowly, her gaze wandered across the light-colored carpet to that large, two-winged mahogany wooden door. On each of the wings was a coat of arms, divided into four sections. On the upper left and the lower right quarter were three white flowers on a blue background. The upper right and the lower left quarter each showed three red, pointed crowns on a white background. Behind this door, Claire assumed, must be the director's room. What would she expect there? She did not know. Why had she only gotten involved in this thing that Geilis Duncan had suggested to her? Out of desperation? She wasn't sure. Only one thing was sure: she had never thought that she would have to have another job interview at the age of almost 30. But that was her life. Much of what had happened in her life had not been planned, nor had she ever expected her life to be like that.          Claire Elisabeth Beauchamp, almost divorced Randall, had lost her parents in a car accident when she was five years old. For the next fifteen years she was raised in the loving care of her uncle 'Lamb'. Dr. Quentin Lambert Beauchamp, an archaeologist and Egyptologist whose research focus was on the Old Kingdom of Egypt and who was highly revered by his students, came to Berlin in 2015, where he taught at Humboldt University in the last years before his retirement. There Claire had also met her future husband, Dr. Frank Randall. He had been assigned to her uncle as a research assistant. Randall had courted her like no man before and they had already married in May 2016. The first four years of their marriage had gone in a way that Claire would still describe as happy today. Although, she was no longer quite so sure. What did happiness actually mean? Was there a definition for this term? And even if there was a definition for the term "happiness", was it really valid for all people? In any case, the first four years of her marriage had not been very negative. Together they had made regular trips to Paris, Madrid, Prague, Budapest, Dubrovnik, Palermo, Venice, Turin, Marseille, Amsterdam, Florence, Milan, Barcelona and Bruges.

“Palermo/Sizilien” by  nataliaaggiato 

         Claire enjoyed getting to know these cities and experiencing their cultural particularities. When Lambert Beauchamp died unexpectedly in February 2019 as a result of a stroke, Frank had been kind and, in her opinion, very sensitive to her needs. But in the spring of 2020, a strange development had set in with him. At first Claire had blamed it on the effects of the corona pandemic. After the start of the lockdown, Frank was mainly at home, giving lectures via Zoom and otherwise writing a new book on the history of the Scottish Jacobite uprising in 1745. Claire, on the other hand, was working as a nurse in the children's clinic of Berlin's Charité hospital, as she had been before the crisis. Frank had insisted that Claire should give up her job. The possibility that she could become infected with the virus seemed too high to him. But Claire could not bring it over her heart to leave her fellow nurses alone, especially in such a severe time, and thanks to the strictly observed precautions she got through this difficult time without any problems. While she could be happy about the successes in her profession, the problems in her marriage with Frank seemed to become bigger and bigger. At some point, she felt that Frank was becoming more and more monosyllabic and that they were drifting apart rapidly. But evem then she thought this was a temporary phase that would end after the pandemic at the latest. At least she hoped so. When a vaccine against the virus was finally found in July 2021 and became available in December 2021, Claire breathed a sigh of relief. She and Frank would get vaccinated and then they could travel again. This would change Frank's mind and make her marriage blossom again. But it all turned out differently. Once they were vaccinated, Frank suddenly didn't feel like traveling anymore. Again and again he put off his work. Regularly he worked until late at night at the university and sometimes he spent whole nights there. It was always about important analyses, which he published in specialist publications and for which there were tight deadlines. Even on evenings when Claire was off, he was rarely at home, and whenever she tried to initiate a little marital tenderness, he was too tired for that. In the spring of 2022, they had slept together for the last time. A few months later, Frank had stopped kissing her goodbye, as he usually did when he left the house.          What happened then had the potential to throw her completely off track. By the fall of 2022, a hunch that Claire had suppressed again and again had been confirmed. Frank had a mistress. When she returned from her work at the children's hospital one evening in October, she saw Frank saying goodbye to a slender blonde at the door of their shared house, kissing her intensely. She stood there frozen. Everything inside her urged her to turn around and run away. But then the anger that built up within her gained the upper hand. Like a burning ray that shot out of her stomach through her whole body, he took a breath. She ran to the front door, unlocked it and found Frank standing at the sink in the kitchen, where he was just rinsing out two wine glasses. He turned to her in surprise, but before he could say a word, Claire's purse hit him in the left half of his face with full force. Frank had lost his balance and had fallen over. His glasses had come off his head and had broken when he hit the kitchen floor. Claire no longer knew what insults she had used to call him. Frank had picked himself up and collected the parts of his glasses. He had not even set out to explain the situation or apologize.Claire would not have listened to him either. She had turned on her foot and had run into the shared bedroom. When she arrived there, she had taken Frank's bed linen, run back downstairs with it and threw it all into his study. Then she ran back into the bedroom again and locked herself inside. She did not know how long she had cried angrily. But before she had fallen asleep, she had made a plan. The next morning she went on the morning shift. During a break she called a lawyer and that same afternoon she went to see her to discuss the formalities of a divorce.

“Brille” by  jottbe

         Frank had had the injuries Claire had inflicted on him treated, but had not reported them to the police. It was only later that he let it show that he had orchestrated the whole situation. He had simply been too cowardly to have a conversation with her about a divorce, as two adults normally do. He probably wanted to make her feel guilty, too. Claire was convinced of that, at least. Frank had always been against her going back to work. When she accepted the job at the children's hospital a year after their wedding, he had expressed himself very negatively about it. What kind of impression would it leave on his colleagues if the wife of a prospective professor went to work? And in the last year of their marriage he had not missed any opportunity to tell her how much he felt neglected.            It took three months before Claire was able to move into a small room in one of the Charité nurses' homes. During these three months she did everything she could to avoid Frank as much as possible. Anything she couldn't take with her to the nurses' home, she stored in her friend Geillis Duncan's basement. Claire hoped that the divorce would be finalized in October 2023 after the obligatory year of separation and that she could finally start a new life. But this time, too, everything turned out differently than she had hoped.          It was a rainy autumn day in September 2023 and it was to be the last day in the life of Dr. Frank Randall. On a country road near Lübeck, where he had attended a conference for historians, Frank's car skidded for some unknown reason. The car broke through the barrier and then came to a halt in a field. There it was discovered the next morning by a farmer. When the police arrived at the scene of the accident, Dr. Frank Randall was strapped in the seat belt and sat in the driver's seat as if nothing had happened. He was uninjured and even still wearing his hat. But Frank Randall was dead. An autopsy performed later revealed that Frank had had a heart attack that caused him to lose control of the car, causing it to veer off the road. It was, as the police later said, very lucky that no other car had been hit. Claire was shaken.

“Lübeck”  by scholty1970 

         But an even greater shock struck her on the day of the reading of the will. On that day, the notary told her that she would not inherit any money, only debts from Frank. Her still-husband had bought a condominium for his mistress for 250,000 euros, which he had signed over to her. For this gift Frank had gone into debt and Claire, who was still married to him by law, inherited his debts. It was one big nightmare. Although Claire had also inherited the rights to Frank's books, these reference books sold only in very manageable numbers and brought in little money. With her salary as a pediatric nurse, it would take her decades to pay off Frank's debts. Meanwhile, Sandy Travers, this  bleached ...., was sitting in her apartment, probably enjoying herself with her next lover. Once again the anger about Frank rose in Claire's heart, but before she could think about him any further, a familiar voice tore her from these thoughts. 

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Empires on the Horizon XIV

Jason is a CEO: Part XIV

masterlist for other parts, more jercy, bad headcanons, and an abundance of crackships

SURPRISE!!! i finally got my laptop back and thankfully they didn’t have to wipe anything so i still had all my work! Between you and me i was more worried about all my fanfics than my uni work...... But I’ve learned my lesson. Do everything on google docs now!! Anyway this is a Percy POV and i hope you enjoy because i’ve missed this little universe more than you could possibly know and we’re finally (only fourteen chapters later) getting to the jercy part of this fic?! LOL it’s been wild.

i know i’m releasing a ton of fanfics at the moment so i hope you guys don’t feel overwhelmed. You know i adore your comments and thoughts but please don’t feel pressured to read all the fics i’m posting. I’ve just had a lot of time in the last weeks so it’s been easier to create. Please take care  of yourself, i love you very much and i hope you have a magical holiday season!

Percy Jackson stretched his legs out in front of him and draped a blanket over them. There were few things he indulged in, but a good plane seat was one of them. He was spoilt for it but having the space to lay his unreasonably tall body down for eight hours seemed like a worthy investment. The announcements that continuously filtered through the crackly speakers were background noise as the bustle of people getting to their seats flowed throughout the cabins. He stared out his little window at the neon-jacketed guides and airport officials directing people to wherever they needed to be. He loved watching people just do things. There was something calming about knowing others weren’t interested in him in any way. That people got on with their lives despite the turmoil nobody knew about.

A flight attendant stopped next to him with a polite smile, “Champagne sir?”

“No thank you, a water please. Too early for alcohol.” He grimaced.

Mirth danced in her eyes as she glanced up at the rest of the passengers, some dangling flutes between their fingers. “Absolutely sir, anything else?”

He shook his head, before leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes. His pre-flight ritual, which consisted of him snuggling as comfortably as possible it his seat and trying to fall asleep, was already behind. The presence of a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed CEO taking up the scattered pieces of his mind. It was crazy to think they had met almost a year ago, crazier still to think that about how much they had changed in that time. Percy at least felt like a completely different person to the one who had stepped off a plane from Hawaii all those months ago and attended his alma mater’s dinner. Although the university had surprised them with plaques honouring their contributions, it was seeing Jason Grace, learning about him that felt like the real reward. Hell, he was only half joking when he said he’d marry the guy the next Tuesday.

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen. Please take your seats and fasten your seatbelts. We will be taking off shortly. In the meantime please turn your attention to the screens in front of you for a video detailing the safety measures you will need to know while aboard this flight.”

He blinked back into the world and turned half his attention to the screen and the other half to locating the blonde he couldn’t seem to keep away from. He knew the safety briefings by heart, but he always felt bad for not paying attention. Someone worked hard to make those. He didn’t spot Jason in the two minutes the video played and then it was too late because the plane gave a low rumble and suddenly, they were lurching into motion. His heart climbed to his throat and he gripped his fingers underneath the blanket.

“Okay Percy,” He mouthed to himself, “You can do this. It’s at most fifteen minutes of instability and then you’ll be up in the air and you won’t even feel it.”

“Just fifteen minutes.” He kept repeating, taking deep shaky breaths. “Fifteen minutes.”

The plane jaggered down the runway, slow enough that he could still read the road signs indicating altitudes and compass directions and all sorts of fun information he didn’t care about. He felt the huge machine turn into the long stretch of tar that led them to the sky and his stomach clenched painfully. This was always the worst part. Take off. It felt like his entire body flew off with the plane while he stuck to the ground, superglue cementing him to the floor with no escape. He didn’t feel free. He felt torn.

The plane gave a horrible lurch and then it was screaming down the runway, grass and yellow lines blurring past them. They were going so fast he’s sure they’d break the sound barrier. He squeezed his eyes shut. Knuckles white as he twisted his hands together. The plan flew down the road and into the sky. His whole body felt suspended in space. He wanted to come down. He didn’t want to be here. Even with his eyes closed he could feel how high they were. He hated it.

Slowly, the plane started to level out until he felt his body realign: feet under him, hands beside him, head above him. He opened his eyes, spots dancing in his vision as they got used to the light once more. The seatbelt sign dinged above him, and a series of clicks followed. People got up to use the bathroom and grab things from the overhead compartments. He wasn’t going to get up until he was out of this plane. So he shoved his headphones over his ears and pressed play.

I will always love you how I do

Let go of a prayer for you

Just a sweet word

He gazed out the window, clouds close enough to whisper to, and his lips pulled up in a soft smile. The sky was beautiful. It just sucked that they had to get into a death trap to get to it. With his ocean eyes pinned to the balls of cotton hanging in the blue expanse his mind drifted. Reyna. He blinked. It was almost shameful how little he had thought of her since their breakup considering their year together. She had taught him tai quan do and baked him blueberry tarts. They had escaped to a little bubble in the forest and watched the leaves turn brown as they tumbled in bed. He knew she tapped her right foot when she was annoyed but her left fingers danced when she was excited. He knew she liked her eggs fried hard because she didn’t have time for sloppy yolk, but she liked them scrambled soft because it meant a richer croissant. But despite this she did not light his soul on fire. And he did not light hers either. They were merely striking matches without wood to burn. He heaved a sigh as he watched the threads of his relationship flutter before his eyes and fell asleep to them disappearing in gold strands leaking into the clouds. He succumbed to the bright sun and the soft warmth of memories and he didn’t wake until a loud announcement gave the signal that they were landing.

It was over so fast he didn’t have time to panic and he was grateful. Finally he was collecting his bags and walking out. A driver with his surname scribbled on a plaque stood front and center and with a quick flash of his ID and a hello they were piling into the car. He didn’t get a chance to see the blonde beauty, but the island was small and time was a plenty. They would find each other again.

“To the hotel sir?”

“Yes Luca, and then please stick around for half an hour. It’s just a quick freshen before I go to work. We have a lab meeting.”

The man nodded and then focused on the busy Italian streets they were navigating. He took in the colours and sounds as they whizzed by. It felt like a different universe. People were loud and excited and full of life and the little markets seemed to pull energy from the sun and direct it into joy. He wanted to tell Luca, to pull over, screw work, and take in the beauty of this little section of the world. But his phone buzzed in his pocket and he knew with a disappointed sinking in his chest that adventure would have to wait.

“Hello Percy,” Rachel Elizabeth Dare bubbled, ‘I assume you’ve arrived?”

“Yes Rach,” He sighed but amusement caught between his lips, “Have you got news for me?”

“No,” She sounded suspicious, “Why would I have news for you?”

“Because you only track my exact times when you want something but you’re too scared to ask me so you wait till I’m halfway across the country before asking.” He wanted to laugh as she made an indignant sound.

“Okay fine,’ She grumbled, “I wanted to know if I could close up the scuba for the weekend. I met a girl and i wanted to go out on Friday night with her.”

He couldn’t hold in his laugh any longer, “Of course you can Rachel. But I’m curious to know…” He trailed off.

“Ugh you are impossible.” He could imagine her eye roll so vividly. “It’s Clarisse. The principal from your old school.”

“Well, well, well,” He grinned, “I better be getting premium seats to the wedding.”

“Why does everything always end in weddings for you?” She groaned.

“Scuse me for wanting a happily ever after.” He scrunched his face, “Oh and guess who’s here?”

“Is this a good guess or a bad one?”

“Good.” He smiled, “Very good.”

She gasped, speaker crackling at his ear, “Tell me!”

“Jason Grace.”

“What?” She squealed, “Are you guys going to have hot rebound sex and then realise you like each other more than just casual fuck-buddies and end up getting married and adopting like six children?”

He burst with amusement, “Slow down there Rach. I know I throw around the marriage idea, but kids seem like a big commitment.”

“You right,” She said decidedly, “Kids are a lot of effort. Just get married then. But no eloping!” He pictured the crease in her freckled brows. “I want to be a bridesmaid.”

“Can’t promise anything,” He giggled.

“Perseus Jackson!” She scolded.

“Oof the full name.”

“I will tell your mother and she will kick your ass.”

“Okay, okay,” He laughed, “No eloping. I have to go. But remember to take the keys for the scuba with you. We do not need the fire department breaking the door again.”

She grumbled about hating him and then blew him a kiss and ended the call. With a smile still playing on his lips he thanked Luca and rushed into the hotel. Thankfully the check in was painless and fast and he was stumbling into his room in no time. He barely had time to appreciate the gorgeous floor-to-ceiling windows and the ocean view it laid out before him. He promised himself he would take the time when he got back.

Quickly he hopped into the shower cursing when he realised he’d forgotten to take his socks off. With a horrified shudder he peeled them off and chucked them into the laundry basket, thankful it gets emptied every day. The water beat against his back, fogging up the glass and calming the racing in his veins. He gave himself the luxury of one extra minute to just take a deep breath and screw his head back onto his shoulders and then he jumped out and shoved on a pair of black slacks and a white button down. He didn’t bother to do the top few buttons, figuring he’d have time in the car. Instead he fastened a watch to his wrists, rolled up the sleeves till they sat at his forearms– any attempt to bear the Italian heat– and then he slid his feet into a pair of sleek ankle boots and mussed his damp curls. With half a moments glance at the mirror to make sure his face didn’t have patches of sun-cream and his collar was straight he grabbed his briefcase and walked out.

Glancing at his watch distractedly he rounded the corner, only to bump right into a hard chest.

“Oh,” He frowned, stepping back into a door. “Jason.”

“Hey,” The blonde smiled, “What a coincidence?” He laughed.

“You’re staying here?” It was really starting to feel like the universe was trying to tell him something.

‘Yep,” He gave a shy smile, blue gaze bright. “Guess you’re going to see a lot more of me then you expected huh?”

“I think you may be at more of a disadvantage than me.”

Jason looked at him, eyes dragging from his face down his body and eventually dropping to his shoes. Percy gave an involuntary shiver as the blonde tracked the same slow pace back up. “I think this could be very advantageous.”

“If you don’t stop staring at me like that I’m going to be very late for my meeting.”

He laughed, the previous sultriness giving away to a sparkle and flashing white teeth, “See you around Jackson.” He started walking away.

“Wait!” Percy called, “Date? Tonight? We can explore the city together?”

Jason smiled as bright as diamonds, “Sounds fun. Meet you in the bar at?”

He realised their time depended on when his meeting finished and suddenly, he wanted to cancel the whole thing and start now. ‘Seven thirty?”

“See you there. And have a good meeting.”

The blonde walked away, and Percy felt this time like he was floating away while his body remained superglued to the floor. He wanted to live in this feeling. Because this did not feel like being torn apart. This felt like coming home.

The elevator dinged down the passage and he crashed back to reality. With a string of curse words he raced for it and jumped in just as the doors began to close.

The meeting and subsequent lab tour felt endless and he concentrated on little less than half of what was being said, his mind more interested on the things waiting for him at the hotel, the person. But eventually it was over and him and Luca were cruising towards the Casa de Vita.

“Anything else you need sir?” His driver looked at him from the rear-view mirror as they turned into the hotel road.

“Recommend any good places for a first date?”

“Already met a lady sir?” Luca’s dark eyebrows almost touched his hairline in surprise.

“A man actually.”

The Italian chuckled, nodding his head as if in on some invisible joke, “The Tesora. It is just down the path and near the ocean.”

“Thank you Luca, have a goodnight.”

“And you sir.” Luca winked before peeling out of the entrance and fading into the setting sun.

Percy strolled to his room with a smile on his face, lost in a world full of possibilities. It was unsurprising then that he didn’t see the extra bag against the wall, or the shoes neatly placed by the door that weren’t his.

He took off his watch and undid the few buttons on his shirt, head lost to the glimmer of the ocean. He let his shirt fall open as he slipped off his shoes and walked towards the windows. The view really was spectacular. No matter how much he travelled it always blew his mind the places that existed, that he had yet to learn of. It was irresistible. It was perfect. It didn’t fail to cross his mind that the ocean was the exact same colour as a certain pair of gorgeous blue eyes. He blinked the image away, turning around, and his gaze landed on that exact aquamarine gaze.

“Jason?” He gasped, clutching his chest in surprise. “What are you doing in my room?”

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

Tags (if you want to be added/taken off the tag list just let me know. All my channels of communication are open):

@lesbian-peanuts​​

@leydiangelo​​​

@queen-of-demons-and-hell​​

@msdrpreist​​

@sparkythunderstorm​​

@nishlicious-01​​

@lucyisblue​

@pjo-hp-things​

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Her Royal Highness (H.R.H.), Part XXVII (A Tale’s End)

I would have walked away from this story (forever) a very long time ago if it weren’t for the constant and unwavering support of @notevenjokingfic and @balfeheughlywed. They have held my hand through this – through my tantrums, through my protestations that I didn’t know what I was doing, and through the times I begrudgingly admitted that I actually like the end of product. This story is dedicated to them and to their friendship. This has been a ride, and writing it has been an endurance contest. My gratitude to everyone who has read this, liked it, reblogged it, favorited it, or sent me a message. This is the end. I hope you enjoy. xx.

Part I: The Crown Equerry | Part II: An Accidental Queen | Part III: Just Claire | Part IV: Foal | Part V: A Deal | Part VI: Vibrations | Part VII: Magnolias | Part VIII: Schoolmates | Part IX: A Queen’s Speech | Part X: Rare | Part XI: Watched | Part XII: A Day’s Anticipation | Part XIII: The Location | Part XV: Motorcycle | Part XV: Cabin | Part XVI: Market | Part XVII: Stables | Part XVIII: Alarms | Part XIX: Visitor | Part XX: Cuffed | Part XXI: A Woman’s Speech | Part XXII: The Harlot Queen | Part XXIII: Rarer | Part XXIV: Balmoral & London | Part XXV: The Ring | Part XXVI: Baile na Coille

Her Royal Highness (H.R.H.) Part XXVII: A Tale’s End

Claire’s limbs were leaden, and yet she rose from the bed.

Fraser’s sleepy noises (ones she teased sounded Scottish) were missing, and his long, even breaths had risen from bed with him.

In the absence of his noises, it was quiet, too quiet.

The scent of him (sage and clove) was like a mislaid memory (an empty space where it had been tucked against her nape), and the duvet was cool when she flopped one arm over into the bedding.

She already knew that Jamie was gone.

She rose and slipped into her dressing gown before making her way down the hall. Her feed had carried her down the halls on many nights, her arms clutching their colicky bairn and tracing a path that she had hoped (usually in vain) would soothe her.

She did not bother to flick on a single light switch.

In London, the underbelly of their home was always in motion. The clamor of it all made her mind whir, her eyes rebel in the night to focus on the ceiling, and her fingers clutch to insomnia.

At Balmoral, the quiet was like another layer of skin, and the stillness went to the center of her bones.

Scotland.

It was here that Claire had demanded they spend their one-week honeymoon before setting off on a tour of the Commonwealth’s various holdings.

It had been in Fraser’s cabin that they spent their one-week honeymoon, her body feeling like the crescendo of a symphony under his hands and lips. Idly tracing the conch-shaped curve of his bared hip bone, Claire wondered aloud whether the walls of the cabin would keep their secrets. Turning his new wife gently onto her back (“my Queen” – a breathless, almost-whimper on his lips) and rising over her, Fraser had touched her belly and kissed the space between the clotheslines of her clavicles. Breathlessly, he asked her to commit that when they spoke, it would only be truth.

There was room for secrets, but no lies.

She had agreed, just as breathlessly, and he held her hand as he kissed down her body, glancing up her sternum before closing his mouth over her.

It was here that Claire had demanded they spend their first months as a family of three.

On the same bed from which she had just risen, she had given birth to an heir.

It had been the last thing on her mind.

They had been married for six months.

With Jamie’s hand crushed in hers, and his sister mopping sweat from her forehead (a bond she quietly conceded once reminded her of her own sister), their baby came into the world.

With a final push, an immense feeling of relief flooded her. She felt light, like her body was no longer being twisted in opposite directions by a molten-hot vice, as though the weight of an entire kingdom was not bearing down on her pelvis.

The relief was short lived.

Claire’s arms quaked under the effort of pulling herself fully upright. She breathed for a moment, trying to keep her inhalations even.

The part of her that was relieved was rapidly giving way to a gnawing panic.

Brows furrowing as the umbilical cord was clipped, her eyes darted from Jamie to the doctor who had attended the birth and back again.

“One final push,” the midwife who had been there throughout her labor said, stepping in as the doctor turned away.

“Ye did it,” her husband breathed, only tearing his eyes from his wife’s face to look at the silent bundle in the midwife’s hands.

“No…” Claire breathed, the weight that had been bearing down on her lower half suddenly in her chest, expanding and contracting, wheedling its way into the space between her bones and her organs. “No.”

“A nighean–” Jamie started, but she shook her head.

“Tell me it’s okay. That the baby...”

He said nothing, his hand closing over the cap of her shoulder as he craned his neck.

His breaths were short, dry, shallow.

Her voice was imploring as she snapped, “Jamie. I can’t… if the baby is… tell me that-”

And then the wailing came.

A desperate, fevered, cold yowl that sounded almost inhuman. It would not stop, and she prayed that it never would as long as it meant that their baby (mysterious, puckered, purple, blood-covered) would suck in breath after life-sustaining breath.

“The bairn…” Jamie started, immediately fading away as his voice cut.

“She’s just fine, mam,” Jenny laughed, gently moving a soft cloth over the birth-slicked baby. Claire had nodded, still feeling the nagging tug of uncertainty in her belly until she saw the bundle move from Jenny’s arms to Jamie’s.

She lowered herself back to the pillows stacked behind her back, sighing and thanking God.

Julianna Alexandra Elizabeth Faith, the heir apparent and tiniest member of the royal House of Beauchamp, was perfect – ten fingers, ten toes, button nose, cap of jet-black hair, earlobes with skin as soft as velvet, and the smallest bow of a mouth.

She barely heard the words that followed.

Blood.

The commands.

Back up.

The pleas.

She has to be okay. Ye dinna ken, she’s everything.

Their perfect daughter had torn her spectacularly, and just twenty minutes after giving birth in their bedroom, Claire was transported to the hospital, where she went into surgery for hours and stayed for six nights.

It was behind her now, left in some small hospital retrofit to make way for a postpartum queen. What remained was Balmoral – the place where she could ensconce herself in the history of her lineage as she wrote the history of her own family.

She could live here in Scotland.

As a wife.

As a mother.

As a woman, above all else.

Try as she did, she never felt that way in London.

The easiness of this place. The way that it felt like home, even though her accent was a reminder that it had not always been her home.

On this night, a little over six months after the birth of Julianna, she heard Jamie before she saw him.

His voice was low, a mix of Gaelic and English. All of his words blurred together.

As carefully as possible, she toed the door open another inch and leaned against the doorframe.

“She’s a braw one, yer mam.” He was shirtless, but shrouded in a plaid on the chaise at the center of the sitting room just outside their suite. Flames popped and crackled in the hearth, small bursts of sparks spiraling up and up as the fattest log broke in two. “Ye should’ve seen her, laborin’ wi’ ye. She’s a fearsome thing, ye ken. Ye didna make it easy on her, refusin’ to come out… she was so set on meetin’ ye.”

Claire mopped away the stinging in her eyes with the hem of her robe.

“I didna ken if I could love something as much as I love ye, mo chridhe, but seein’ ye, it’s as if a piece of my own heart, my brain, and my wame lives outside me. I felt it the moment yer mam told me that ye were in her belly. Above all, I kent I must protect ye both, and I will. Until the day I no longer draw breath.”

Claire’s own breath was coming ragged now, listening to him. She had not expected to feel so different in the aftermath of the easy pregnancy and long labor.

To feel as though her emotions were like a balloon on the end of a long string, floating high above her head at all times. As though the slightest breeze could shift them, change her entire existence.

“And someday, when ye’re no’ a bairn, we’ll share wi’ ye how ye surprised us, a leannan.”

Julianna let out the quietest coo that made Claire’s thighs and fingertips tremble. She wanted to take her baby in her arms, to have her close, to take comfort from the fact that her soft limbs were still warm, that her heavy head was held firmly in place by an increasingly-strong neck.

Out of hand, the doctor had dismissed the ebbs and flows of these moods as baby blues. Jamie, in turn, dismissed the doctor with no slight amount of outrage, demanding that someone with “the sense the good lord gave a turnip” help his wife.

That the fog was not imagined. The sense of isolation she felt, even when surrounded by people, was not a matter of someone just being around for her more. The feeling of disconnection from their baby was not a function of being Queen.

Sticking a finger into the doctor’s paunch, Jamie had hissed that the Queen (“my fucking wife”) would not be so dismissed, that if he refused to help, they would find someone who could, who would.

Jamie was a hands-on father, and she was grateful for it. Even with all of the help her status (their shared status) could bring, he made himself present. He rose with her in the night, brought her warm compresses when she shed tears over engorged breasts and cracking nipples. He changed diapers with little more protest than a wrinkled nose at the spectacular streaks of shit that would somehow paint themselves up their daughter’s spine. And he did what he could in the darker days just to be near, even if it meant holding Claire’s hand in the dark and wiping away her seemingly sourceless tears.

But the fog had started to lift, the haze in Claire’s eyes becoming less impenetrable.

Just weeks earlier, she said she was ready to ride again.

And they did.

They picnicked at night, after dark when the baby nurse had assured them she was quite alright.

He plucked roses from the garden to tuck behind her ears.

They stole kisses with her back gently pressed against trees or with his on a picnic blanket, her rounded hips cupped by his hands as she tentatively reintroduced the friction of her body to his.

And one evening a few nights later, when he had looked away for only a minute before turning back, his wife was slipping free of her blouse, her curls wild and her smile wide as she unclasped her bra.

That night, with the sounds of summer as the backdrop and the late-night-Scottish-dusk just descending into dark, they made love in the stables, their bodies joining for the first time in months. He took his time, asked her again and again if she was sure, if she was ready. When she winced, he stopped. She shook her head, then nodded with a sigh as he began to move inside of her with an almost-exquisite tenderness. They were cautious with each other, circumspect, as though either might be broken by a hurried touch or indelicate mouths. Utterly besotted by one another’s bodies and the way intimacy felt familiar, comfortable, and lived in.

At the scene in front of her, just days after their reconnection, Claire swallowed hard, silently begging her eyes to dry out. She had shed enough tears in the last six months to last a lifetime.

“Ye wanted to be in our wedding, so ye nested yerself early in yer mam’s belly, ye fierce wee thing. We’ll show ye the pictures. The day I married yer mam is the happiest day of my life... second only to the day that I met her…” At that, Julianna let out the lowest little whimper of a cry, and Jamie tut-tutted for a moment, then continued, “Her fat arse was leanin’ over the gate in the stable, and I couldna stop smiling.”

“Hey,” Claire breathed in feigned exasperation, stepping fully into the room. “My arse was not that fat, and I quite enjoyed our wedding day. Also, I’ll thank you not to teach the heir to the throne such things.”

“I kent ye were there,” Jamie said as he looked over, humming. “I have a hunter’s senses for yer presence, a nighean.”

Claire pursed her lips, rolling her eyes as she strode the rest of the way across the sitting room. Carefully, she took the bundle from his arms. “I think this wee girl’s nighttime garbling, and our resultant insomnia, are enough to dull even the most astute tracker’s senses.”

Jamie lifted the edge of his plaid, allowing Claire to slip in beneath its warm folds. She centered herself between his legs, leaning against his bare chest as she carefully slipped one bare breast through the neckline of her robe. Jamie’s hand rested loosely on her waist, his fingers flexing for just a moment as Julianna’s lips parted then closed around Claire’s nipple. Claire stiffened for a moment, then relaxed backwards into his chest. Julianna left one soft palm to rest just above Claire’s heart.

Closing her eyes, one hand cupped behind Julianna’s head and one on the baby’s soft bum, Claire whispered, “Tell me about the wedding. What would you tell her?”

“Our wedding?”

Claire opened her eyes and craned her head back just enough that he could see her roll her eyes. “Whose wedding do you think I want to hear about?”

“Jenny’s maybe?” he posited, eyes crinkling at the corners as her shoulders bounced with hardly-contained laughter.

The baby’s mouth slipped free and an impressive stream of milk sprayed her cheeks. Jamie and Claire’s laughter was cut short by the soft, threatened grumble of their bairn. It was a precursor to a cry from the suddenly quite-crabby Julianna. With the baby gently mopped up, and returned to her middle-of-the-night suckling, Jamie began to recount the wedding day. By then, Julianna had one eye half-closed, the other lazily roving around in an utterly useless attempt to focus on something as she fed.

“I didna expect ye to look the way ye did. I kent ye’d be beautiful, of course, but I thought somehow ye’d be someone else’s bride, ye ken? That ye’d be dolled up for a ceremony. A queen prepared for a royal wedding – no’ for our wedding – but there ye were. Ye were as bonnie as I’d ever seen ye… as bonnie as I thought I’d ever see ye. At least until I saw ye like this… wi’ our bairn at yer breast, and Christ, I dinna ken what I did to have such a rare woman love me.”

She felt warmth flood her cheeks, the tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes. Bloody Scot. “You looked pretty handsome yourself in that uniform that I knew you did not want to wear.”

A long hum came from him, the vibration beginning low in his chest and making her own body vibrate.

The wedding was not the ordinary royal nuptials in ways that went even further than the fact that she was carrying the heir to the throne.

The dress she wore was light, modern, and cut just right to conceal their secret. Together, they had carefully wrapped it in tissue and tucked it away at his cabin. So it wouldn’t end up in some stuffy museum with a bland placard, she explained as she rose on tiptoes to push it to the back of a closet.

They married in candlelight, with a bouquet of wildflowers picked from the gardens at Balmoral in her hand.

She wore Jamie’s ring, and for some reason she was not at all surprised when her hand did not tremble as he slid it over her knuckle and let his fingers linger on the band for a moment. Her own voice was low as she slipped a band of gold down his finger, whispering the words back to him that he had said to her.

I give you this ring, James Fraser, as a sign of our marriage and mutual trust, our love and our promise to care for one another over all others.

The papers could scoff all they wanted, muse over what a slap in the face it was to the Commonwealth she headed. To give away power, a piece of her divine right.

Nevertheless, she gave herself to him, just as he gave himself to her. She had done it long before that moment, long before the promise concluded.

This day. All of the days we have remaining.

Julianna grunted, released, and whimpered the start of a gut-wrenching, milky cry before latching on again with only the slightest encouragement. This time, both of her eyes closed and her hand fell to a tiny, balled fist above her brows.

“She has a tooth coming in,” Jamie whispered, his hand slipping up Claire’s arm and coming to rest on her shoulder.

“Trust me,” Claire murmured. “I can feel the bloody thing.”

Claire allowed her eyes to close, her attention somehow equally split between her husband’s even breathing and the gentle suckling at her breast. She felt Jamie tuck her hair behind her ear and kiss her temple.

“Ye’re a braw queen, mo nighean donn, but ye’re more than that. Sae much more.”

She wet her lips and turned her head, slowly shifting the now-sleeping bundle in her arms. “Is this what you thought it would be, Fraser?” There was no tentativeness in her voice – it was as though she already knew the answer, but just wanted to hear him say it. “Your life here... with me?”

Humming, his hand skimmed down her upper arm, cupped her elbow, and then found its way to her fingers. His palm covered her hand, and his fingers brushed the narrow expanse of their baby’s lower back.

“Ye helped me come back to life, Sassenach. All that time after the war, I was dead. I didn’t ken it then, but I loved ye then. Before I met ye.”

Running a finger along Julianna’s cheek and tucking her breast back into her robe, Claire whispered, “I loved you both before I met you. You brought me to life, Fraser. I always will love you.”

Fraser shifted, his stubbled cheek against hers as he wound an arm around his queen’s waist and drew her closer.

“So long as my body lives, and yours—we are one flesh,” he whispered. The magnolias at Balmoral smelled like zested citrus and honey. The scent was in the air along with the smoke from the fire Jamie started. Julianna cooed quietly and nestled her face against Claire’s breast, her lips having gone slack. “And when my body shall cease, my soul will still be yours. Claire—I swear by my hope of heaven, I will not be parted from you.”

Claire closed her eyes, the feeling of his rising and falling chest against her back and that of their baby on her own chest.

This was her beginning.

The End

[starrprincesss]

July 14th 2021 - Immersed in Thought -

Today, like most days, was an especially hard day to get out of my head. Everyday I find myself trapped in my head, trying to fully understand the things around me, and why it is that I am the way I am. I try to decode everything, to look beyond and then come to center, ultimately fulfilling the goal of liberating myself and in turn find healing. But the truth is, it is quite toxic to want to be perfect. To want to be your own therapist, that is why you have a therapist Elizabeth. Yes you are meant to be introspective and cognitive of the world around you, to want to be a better person, a better friend, sister and daughter, yes that is all true. But when it becomes something that tires you, that exhausts you without comprehension. It is not good. I would like to spend one day outside of my head, I would like to walk through a medley of daisies or a trail of tall evergreen trees and not think a single thought, to just exist in the moment. To not feel compelled to think beyond it, to think deeper into it. A wise man once said, "Ignorance is bliss" and too that I tip my hat. For all I wish is to one day just enjoy life without having to break it down to its last atom. To sit in splendor. You know that easy feeling, the feeling you get when you look at a sunset or the stars at night, it's that feeling that I am chasing.

Lately I've been wishing to paint, to create really. I keep thinking about an idea I have for a short film, I can see it in my head. I play it for myself when I'm sitting at my desk, I can see it all in front of me. My hands yearn for a camera, for actors and sets to unfold my desires. I've been wanting to write the script, but I just sit on the couch and watch the world go by me, I am torn between never doing enough and feeling exhausted by doing too much. Which in turn shifts me to "treat" my self, to realize that life is not fleeting and that time is not real, so relax, take it slow. But then just as that settles in, like an old machine fervent about not giving up, the engine starts again, and it goes, kicking and screaming and you wonder how much it has left before it shuts off again. That's how I feel, and it's not good to feel this way. I wonder if anyone else feels this way too? If they feel like their life is on a treadmill. Let me paint a little picture for you, but just before, this is for you, it is to stir whatever lies in your head, maybe there's a real meaning, or several, or maybe there isn't anything at all, just an opening for interpretations. You decide.

The amber light floods your room, from the window you left ajar, a breeze touches your skin. Your eyes flicker like the dying lightbulbs you refuse to change, you keep hitting them once a week, maybe the delight in knowing they'll light up again from your touch is your connection to it, your reasoning for not buying new ones. The day has gone by quickly, you wish you could tell it to slow down. But it's still the morning, what's the rush? You walk out to sit under your favorite tree, the tree of life you call it, the tree where it all started. Mornings like these come easy to you, they feel like a thousand people hugging you. You remember that night, it felt like you could feel everything, you were so in tune with with yourself but lost from reality. It was only until your head hit the pillow at 7 am that you realized you couldn't go to sleep, and that the night had ended and there you were, back to square one. But don't let it get you sad, moments are meant to come and go, nothing lasts forever remember. Little trailers of long forgotten memories tap at your window, they delight you and confuse you all at the same time. Hold onto now, please, keep your head out of the past, you tell yourself. But you feel like you can't control it, like it has it's own timer, one that is out of your reach. My mother used to use her old timer a lot, it was a tiny black circle thing from the 90s, it was a timer, alarm clock and radio all in one. And she would play classical music for me when I was a child and couldn't go to sleep. But in fact it made it worse, I would stay up longer just to listen to the music, the scores would beat through every bone in my body and I felt so alive. I would listen to the melodies until they seemed to blur in my ears, and the lights would dim, and I would close my eyes, slower and slower until I couldn't keep up the fight. And in my dreams the songs would form clouds, I'd see myself running in a forest, I'd see myself floating and dancing. But then she'd wake you up, and the lights were on again, and so was life, another day you thought, it felt so fast. And now you look at the pomegranate tree ahead of you and think the same thing. But you thank the heavens for this life and all the fruits its given you, even if fast and jumbled, there was meaning to everything, and there always will be. Wait for me, for I'll meet you soon, faster than we both expect.

[peridotbelle]

More S5 AU: Liz gets to meet Torren

The door chimed. Surprised, Elizabeth set the box down and went to answer it, revealing two visitors: one familiar and one not-so-familiar. “Teyla! Come in!” The Athosian woman entered with a smile. “Forgive me for interrupting. I know you are busy unpacking. But if you have a moment to spare, there is someone–“ She grinned at the baby in her arms. “-who I would like you to meet.” Elizabeth sent her a questioning glance. Was she sure about this? Even though Elizabeth had been cleared by the joint verdicts of both Doctor Keller and Carson, even though she wasn’t considered an active threat, she wouldn’t have blamed Teyla for being wary with her son.   “Elizabeth, this is Torren.” Elizabeth laughed through a throat tight with emotion as the baby waved his arm in her direction, almost as if he knew he were being introduced. Reflexively, she reached out and took hold of the tiny fist. “Hello, Torren. It’s nice to finally get to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” 

Torren wiggled his arm away and shook it at her, his large dark eyes intent yet absent with that baby look of perpetual confusion. “He’s beautiful, Teyla.” Teyla smoothed back a few wispy strands of dark hair from her son’s forehead. “I certainly think so,” she said, her voice warm with affection that bordered on adoration. Elizabeth watched her friend and her child with something like awe. Elizabeth had never seen her like this. Teyla had always been kind and considerate, always vocal about her affection for her people and, in a more subtle way, her teammates. But now sheer love radiated from Teyla’s eyes, rang through her voice, lending her face a sort of glow. It had always been there, Elizabeth realized, but now her friend’s innate tendency to nurture and protect was magnified and unleashed for the whole world to see. “Would you like to hold him?” The offer startled Elizabeth out of her reverie with a jolt of panic. “What?” She liked babies as a general rule, in a distant sort of way, but for the most part had had very little to do with them and thus no idea how to handle them. What if he started to cry? “Oh, no, that’s alright, I wouldn’t want to…” “I have let Rodney hold him without mishap, Elizabeth. I think you will be fine.” Another weak, stuttering protest and then there was no more time to argue because the baby was in her arms and every muscle grew tense in terror of dropping him. The weight was unexpected – he was a solid little thing – and it took her a moment – and a gentle guiding from Teyla – to figure out how to distribute his bulk while holding him upright. At least he was old enough to hold up his head, so she didn’t have to worry about that. She braced herself for the tears, waiting for him to protest being handed off to this strange woman, certain that she was doing something wrong. But a moment passed and the only noises that issued from the baby were a grunt and a little squeal, both oddly charming. “Hey, Torren,” she said, her voice rising automatically into a sort of coo. He craned his downy head up and down, as if taking her in. Suddenly, he rocked, pitching himself backwards, and Elizabeth clung to him frantically. Yet Teyla didn’t seem concerned by this near-disaster, instead smiling as she watched her son wiggle like a hooked fish. The baby gave another little grunt, his tiny hand tapping her on the shoulder, and stilled, settling into Elizabeth’s arms. “You’re quite the active one, I see,” she said with a flustered laugh. “Your mom will have a pair of bantos rods in your hands before you know it.” Teyla’s smile of pride was all the confirmation she needed that this would indeed be the case. Elizabeth studied the round little face, the big brown eyes the image of his mother’s, the stout little body in its patchwork Athosian gown, already so strong. She had no trouble imagining the future warrior he could become, a leader like his parents before him. But there were so many other things too. So much potential, in such a small package. Gradually, the excess tension left her muscles, and the weight and warmth of the little body pressed against hers became less and less frightening. Her nose grazed the top of his head, breathing in that baby smell and feeling the feathery softness of his hair. In fact, the experience was almost soothing. Something elusive, yet warm and calm seemed to grow in the center of her chest, like she’d just downed a shot of whiskey. She began to walk around the room with him, muttering sing-song nonsense phrases. “How are you getting settled?” asked Teyla. “I’m almost done,” said Elizabeth, with a nod towards the small stack of boxes. She gave a feathery laugh, hefting the baby up when he started to slip from her grasp. “There wasn’t exactly a lot to unpack.” The bulk of her belongings had been sent back to Earth months ago, unable to be retrieved without a lot of awkward questions with classified answers. Only those possessions which had been deemed too classified – too alien – for civilian eyes had been left in Atlantis. As she had emptied the few boxes, she had tried not to think of all that was missing – her father’s watch, family photos, mementos from her youth, the majority of her clothes – and forced herself to focus on what was still there: most of her pottery – including the bronze pot that John had given her for her first birthday in Atlantis – the Athosian throw pillows, pictures taken in Atlantis, her journals… Maybe the other items could be retrieved one day, whenever the IOA and the Air Force deemed it safe to declare her “alive” again. But until then, at least she had something, some small pieces of her old life. She had to be grateful for that. The ache in her arms drew Elizabeth’s attention back to the child and she shook the potentially melancholy thoughts away. “I wish I had something to give him,” she said, surveying her belongings with a newly critical eye. Nothing that would make a remotely appropriate gift for a baby. She gave a rueful smile. “Maybe I can take up knitting while I’m under house arrest.” All of the city’s common areas was hardly a limited area to be confined to, but Teyla seemed to know what she meant. “The thought is very kind,” said Teyla, reaching out her arms to take back her son. “But no gift is necessary. Athosians do not have-“ She thought for a moment, as if searching for the right phrase. “-baby… showers.” At the look on Teyla’s face, Elizabeth laughed. Yes, Earth customs – and their accompanying phrases – were weird. “In any case, Torren has already received an ample number of gifts from members of the expedition. Doctor Keller, Amelia Banks and several others were most generous.” Torren yelped and Teyla cooed at him. “Yes, they were, were they not?” A thought crossed Elizabeth’s mind. She folded her arms, mouth lifting in a smile. “John gave him a football, didn’t he?” Teyla rolled her eyes and the two women shared a fond, exasperated look. “Yes. Yes, he did.” She shifted the baby to her other hip. “Still, he meant to share something of importance to him with my son and that intention has great value. Rodney did the same.” That was unexpected, and oddly sweet. “Rodney? What did he give?” “He most kindly recorded a series of scientific lectures for me to play for Torren while I was pregnant." Elizabeth smiled, touched and amused at the same time. That had to be the most Rodney McKay gift to ever exist. But then again, she thought, she shouldn’t have been surprised at the scientist’s generosity. After all, when high on Ancient DNA therapy, he had written her a 400 page book about… herself. “That is… very thoughtful,” said Elizabeth. “Indeed it was.” They exchanged another look of shared mutual affection for the men they worked with, with all their eccentricities and flaws and good, generous hearts. Teyla and Torren left after another few minutes, Elizabeth returning the boy’s mother-assisted wave farewell. She turned back to her boxes, feeling better for the company. Raising the lid on the penultimate box, she lifted out an embroidered blanket and paused at what she saw underneath. There, tucked safely between a paperweight and a notebook, was a flashdrive. She smiled. A flashdrive containing a 400-page book by Rodney McKay.

[fangirlingincamouflage]

Blind Hope Chapter Six

Title: Blind Hope Author: Rosie Dayze Word Count: ??? (I can’t remember) Pairing: Nick Jakoby x Reader Chapter Rating: PG-13 Themes: Angst, Plot, affectionate frustration Disclaimer:  I do not own Nick Jakoby, he is the intellectual property of Netflix Originals. I make no money from this fanfiction. TW/CW: Descriptions of pain, long term hospital stay Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

You Are Here

Chapter 7

Looking back, it was easy to ignore his messages for the first two weeks. You had work to get lost in and pain meds to dull everything. Between your cracked ribs, the stitches in your head, and fielding calls from people who meant well but took up too much energy to talk to, it was pretty easy to act like you had every intention of responding to Nick, without ever actually getting around to doing it.

"I'm awake," his first message said. "They said you already were released. What happened? Are you okay?"

It hurt. It hurt to read. It hurt even more not to respond. But you did it. You told yourself it was for the best. Being with you is what got him hurt in the first place. Sure, you could blame bigotry, and you'd be right, but that doesn't erase what happened, and that you were at the core.

"I know what happened was scary. Please, just talk to me." Another message says. "I just want to know you are safe."

You don't respond to that one either. You know what you'll say. You will tell him that you are perfectly okay. That it's fine. Just a scratch. Sure, your head got busted open and you are on some impressive pain killers. And yeah, you have to change the bandage twice a day because stitches are no joke, especially those on the head. And sure a chunk of hair is missing from where they shaved it to put said stitches in place. But does any of that really compare to what he went through?

"I'm okay if that's what you're worried about. It looked worse than it was."

You know exactly how bad it was. It wasn't like you just gathered your stuff and left after Nick's mother stopped in and delivered her bomb of truth. In fact, once the shock of her words had worn off you'd gotten yourself pretty riled up with a lot of thoughts that centered on how-dare-she. You'd gathered up[ all of your things, and stormed up to the Intensive Care Unit, you'd argued with a nurse, you'd begged and pleaded until they let you in to see him. And, if you are being honest, compared to Nick all you had was a scratch. Tubes were shoved up his nose, forcing him to keep breathing while needles fed him medication and hydration. The natural blue splotches on his skin did their best to hide the bruising, but it was too easy to see that the damage had been done. Gone was the coppery vest, all he wore was an ugly hospital gown and medical tape. One eye was swollen shut, one hand looked like it had seen the wrong side of a hammer. Or, more likely, a boot. He'd whimpered when you'd touched him, in pain despite being pumped full of who knew what.

That's when you had decided that Elizabeth Jakoby had been right. Being with Nick would have been selfish. Yes, he made you happy. Yes, his kisses made you light up. But was any of that worth the pain it put him through? No. Of course not. You needed to leave. And you needed to cut the relationship off. He'd get over you. He'd find a nice orc woman to settle down with. He'd be happy with his garden and his badge. He didn't need you. And he certainly didn't need another trip to the hospital.

So you called June and let her mother you into bed, and promised yourself that no matter what messages Nick Jakoby sent, you'd just ignore them. Sure, you knew it was bad form to ghost him. But you also knew that if you tried to actually break it off, it would kill something inside of you. Some tiny glimmer of hope that there were still good people in the world.

Those first two weeks were easy. They came before the new flower delivery, and the card that only had "I'm sorry," written in his hasty, blocky script. And then came the uber eats driver delivering from the Indian place you'd had your very first date. And then came the movie tickets and a little notecard saying "I'll be here, at seven this Friday. I hope you will be too."

You made yourself sick throwing the ticket in the garbage. You'd even poured week-old leftovers on top of it to keep yourself from digging it out. That night you invited June and her wife over and the three of you watched cheesy movies until dawn, if only to keep you from dwelling on where you rather would have been.

You got your stitches out. You were given a clean bill of health. Your hair grew back. Two weeks turned into two months, and then into half a year.

You went on dates. Some weren't too bad. Somewhere horrible. But no matter how nice the date was, or where you went, all you could think about was sharing a loaded waffle with a guy who saw the greatness in the universe. All you could do was reach up and feel that scar on your forehead and wonder 'what if?'.

"This is ridiculous." June flopped herself down on the couch. She was wearing her favorite orange and yellow pajama set. She had a plate of chocolate cake in one hand, and a fork in the other. She was eating her feeling since the love of her life was out to sea again. It made for a good excuse to buy a cake and have a sleepover. You are pretty glad that you have a best friend who still likes sleepovers. "You should call him."

"Listen, June, I know you thought we were perfect for each other but-"

June's demielf eyes narrow to cat-like slits. "Oh please."

"June, it was just two dates."

"And?"

"How much can you really know about a person in two dates?"

"You know when I decided I was gonna marry Em?" she asks.

"Well, you proposed on-"

"Date one."

You pause. "What?"

"I knew before the end of date one that she was the person I wanted to be with for the rest of my life. I knew it like I know the sky is blue and Versace does bold prints." She waves her hand through the air.

"That's not possible."

"Oh, it is. I realized I was doing everything I could to make her laugh because the sound of it was the best music I'd ever heard."

You can't help but remember Nick's laugh, and the way it came out too loud and honest. Your heart sinks into your stomach.

"And I wanted to keep ordering food, just so we could stay there longer," June continues.

After your first date, you and Nick just walked, walked until the only place you could go was home. You'd never wanted the night to end.

"But what really sealed the deal was how bad I wanted to see her again, even when we'd just said goodnight."

"But," you say, trying to ignore the feeling in your chest. "Couldn't it have just been an infatuation? Wasn't it just potential? Time and effort are what made it love, not your first date."

June shrugs. "Sounds to me like you are trying to convince someone in this room, and I'm pretty sure it's not me."

You lapse into silence as the words ring in your ears. Who are you trying to convince? You know that you had an amazing time with Nick. You know exactly what it felt like to laugh with him, run your hands across his shoulders, kiss him. You know that it was the exact mix of easy and heart tingling. You know that if ever there had been potential for something great, it existed in those two nights with Nick Jakoby.

"It doesn't matter," you say. "I wont get him hurt again."

June sets her plate aside and takes your hand in hers. "Sweetie, I get that. I do. But..." She takes a deep breath. "Listen, I don't know if you are ready to hear this but I'm going to go ahead and say it anyway."

She shifts her place on the couch until she is facing you, your hands cupped gently in her own. The look she gives you is one of kindness, but no-nonsense. It's a mother's look.

"I feel like you are about to ground me for doing something dumb," you say, trying to be light-hearted.

"Kind of. I mean, I do think you did something stupid."

You start to pull away. "June-"

She takes your hands again, more firmly. "You did. You did do something dumb. I love you, hun. I really do but this time? This time I think you screwed up."

"How? By protecting him? By making sure he never has to be in that hospital bed again? June, you didn't see him it was...it was-" You can't even bring yourself to say how bad it was.

June's hands tighten ever so slightly. "I know, sweetie. I know. It sucked. I know how seeing you hurt made me feel, and I can only imagine that it was worse seeing Nick like that. And I can only imagine how guilty it made you feel. But honestly? None of that matters."

"Why not?"

She blows out a soft breath. You can see a hard line of tension in her shoulders. She closes her eyes and when she opens them they are filled with a steady resolve. "Because you didn't even give him a choice. And hun, that was shitty." Since you rarely ever hear June curse, you know exactly how much she must mean this. "I know why you did it. I get it, but I don't really agree with it. You hurt yourself, which was your choice. But you hurt him too. You didn't give him an explanation, and you didn't give him closure." She holds up a hand before you can interrupt. "I'm not saying every person you go on a date with deserves a point by point explanation for why you don't want to see them again. But we both know that Nick wasn't just some date."

"I knew he'd try to talk me out of it."

June shrugs. "Maybe. Probably. But after getting hurt the way that he did, don't you think that he deserved the chance to try?"

Guilt drags at your stomach. You shake your head and pull your hands out of her grip. She lets you.

"I don't know that I'd have been strong enough to tell him no."

June shrugs. "Maybe because you shouldn't have."

You make a sound in the back of your throat and reach for the remote. "Come on, the show is-"

The words you were going to say die in your throat. The screen is filled with a news broadcast. A pretty woman you barely notice is talking about a fire downtown. The words Bright, officers down, possible magical terrorism hang like an ugly miasma in your ears. A picture of Nick superimposes itself over the fire.

You don't even remember getting up. You don't remember grabbing your coat. All you hear is the jingle of keys as you head to the hospital you ought never to have left him at.