#(nothing in this room has been touched since before I went to undergrad which was forever ago!! )

[lovelyisadora]

How's it going bestie

not well!!! nothing has changed for better or for worse so it’s thankfully a constant state of not well though dldjsjajajah

[writtenonnapkins]

The New Girl

Credit for Universe goes to @lumosinlove

“So, Loops is moving in the new girl today, huh?”

Sirius looked over at Harzy to respond and noted that the rest of the team seemed interested as well. They were all nervous about the new PT honestly, having gotten close with Remus. It helped that knew Remus and came with his recommendation, but still.

“Yeah, she’s probably there by now I assume.”

“What’s she like you think? I mean she was friends with Loops, yeah, but what kind of friends did he have in college eh?” James asks, looking over from the weight bench he was sitting on.

Everyone once again looked over and, Sirius. The only problem was that Sirius didn’t know. They hadn’t really talked much about Remus’s college years apart from hockey and Greyback. Now that he was thinking about it, they probably should have, it was five years of his life.

Sirius shrugged and went back to weight training with Dumo as his spotter. “You guys could come over tonight if you want to meet her I guess.”

“I’ll be there, just tell me a time,” Dumo says with a look that says he can tell Sirius was going through a mini-crisis about Remus having college friends. The rest of the team agreed as well before going back to their training.

That night when the team was about to head out Sirius got a text from Remus telling him that of course, everyone could come to meet “Dora” whenever. They were making dinner and would just need a headcount. 

“Alright, Rem says Dinner will be served at 6:30, he and Dora, I guess, just need a headcount.”

“Dora? Is that her name?” James asks, already on his phone presumably texting Lily so she can get Harry ready. James didn’t even have to say he was coming, obviously neither he nor Lily liked to be left out of anything.

“Yeah I guess, that's the name in this text anyway. Re usually called her Tonks though so I’m confused.”

“Maybe wait for her introduction boys,” Dumo said diplomatically, “We’ll be there Sirius.”

After a brief headcount including most of the team, Sirius texted Remus back and headed out. He was nervous to meet someone from Remus’s college days. They had only really been around the team and Sirius hadn’t been introduced to any of Remus’s other friends. He knows he must have some since he hadn’t started hanging out with the team a lot until they started dating. They had just been busy I guess, with Sirius’s ribs, then the cup and James and Lily’s wedding, Remus getting recruited to the team. 

They had only been living together for two months, and those two months had been busy. 

It was time he met Remus’s friends honestly, and the one who would be living with them for the next months would be a perfect start.

When he pulled up to the house and saw an old minivan that looked like it had been painted aqua blue by someone who was not a professional. It was probably Tonks/Dora’s Sirius assumed and it only made him more nervous. For some reason, he had assumed that Remus was more of a quiet nerd in college, if a student-athlete, and figured his friends would have been the same. But if his college friend that he still talks to felt the need to paint their car bright blue themselves, Sirius was thinking his assumptions might have been wrong.

Suddenly the door burst open with a yell of “SIRIUS!!!!”

A tiny pink blob ran towards him and tackled him into a hug talking rapidly at him the whole time. “Ihavebeensoexcitedtomeetyouweneverthoughtremuswouldeverhaveaseriousboyfriendnopunintended.”

Once Sirius got over his shock he put together that this must be Tonks/Dora that would be living with them, though he still struggled to make sense of her rapid-fire words. We? Who was we? And why did they never think Remus would have boyfriends? How did they know he wanted a boyfriend, not a girlfriend? Was Remus out in college?

Despite the thoughts running through his mind, Sirius gathered himself enough to say hi and introduce himself. The girl had let go of him at this point, though she still bounced with energy. 

“Nymphadora Tonks,” She stated, “But you can call me Tonks. Come on Remus is inside, he couldn’t step away from the cream sauce or he said it would burn.”

She turned away from him and flounced inside, expecting Sirius to follow her; which he did of course but she was a bold personality to be sure. 

He took off his shoes and walked into the kitchen in a daze. Remus was in fact stirring a large saucepan full of cream sauce looking relaxed and unfairly attractive in gray sweatpants and a loose-fitting maroon Lions shirt. Tonks was perched on the kitchen island mixing a large salad. It looked very domestic. Sirius’s gut twisted, just how well did they know each other?

But then Remus turned around beaming at him, beaconing Sirius over. 

“Hey baby, I missed you.” He said before pulling Sirius into a loving, heated kiss, that was perhaps a bit too long in the presence of others. Tonks didn’t seem to mind though, as once they released each other, Sirius turned to see her looking incredibly fond before turning back to her salad. 

Sirius cleared his throat. “The team said they would be here around 6:30, so about thirty.”

“Perfect, thanks, Sirius. Dora was hoping to meet everyone casually before professionally anyway.” Remus said.

“I love it when you speak for me,” Tonks said suddenly, “Makes me all squishy inside.”

Remus turned to her saying, “Jeez, you promised not to be too weird Dora.” She responded with a  shrug. 

Remus seemed to accept that and turned to Sirius, motioning to some lemons and oranges near him along with a cutting board and knife. 

“Dora and I made some punch. Cut these up to float on top?” Sirius nodded and got to work. They all went about their tasks, Tonks asking all sorts of questions about him, their relationship, the team. Nothing too deep, but Sirius could tell she was holding herself back a bit, probably because it seemed Rem had asked her to. 

The doorbell rang and Tonks hopped up to answer the door before Sirius could even stand. Remus seemed to anticipate Tonks rushing to meet everyone and hadn’t even moved from where he was mixing the noodles and sauce together. Sirius could hear Tonks making introductions similar to his own, if a little more formal, to the rest of the team in the foyer. Almost everyone was there except James and Lily. 

Remus looked in the direction of the foyer and then at Sirius, a fond look on his face. “She’s a bit excitable when it comes to new things, always has been. Best to just let her go at it than try and reel her in.”

“You seem close?” Sirius questioned just a little bit.

“Yeah, I know I said I knew her in college, but we were actually roommates, best friends even. It’s a bit complicated.” Remus said apologetically. “I thought it might be best for you just to meet her.” 

But then everyone was in the kitchen, and they couldn’t talk about it anymore. Finishing touches were being made and food was moved to the table. 

James and Lily walked in right as everyone was sitting down, but instead of introducing herself as she had with everyone else, Tonks ran to hug Lily. 

“Lily! I missed you so much!”

“I’ve missed you too Tonks, I’m so glad you’re here!” Lily responded with equal enthusiasm before introducing Tonks to James. 

“Wait, how do you two know each other?” Finn asked. 

Lily, Tonks, and Remus explained that Tonks had taken a gap year between undergrad and her PT masters, during which she came and stayed with Remus for two months. Remus had introduced his college best friend to his Gryffindor best friend and they became fast friends. 

The whole team seemed to be a bit shocked at the news that Tonks didn’t seem to be only a college friend of Loops, but a friend who had stayed with him and met other friends of his in a new town. They hadn’t really thought about Loops having other friends than the team and their families. It made sense that he would have friends they hadn’t met yet, after all, they had only become so close within the past nine months. 

“Well,” Leo cut in breaking the slight tension, “Got any fun college stories to share about Loops here?”

“Can’t imagine Loops left the library or training center much, Harzy,” Talker teased.

“Oh Remy left the library alright,” Tonks threw out, “Would never catch him there longer than he had to be!”

“Tonks,” Remus said a bit warningly, if softly.

“No no no, Remy. I don’t know how you convinced these people you’re the calm and studious PT, but don’t you worry I’m here to tell all your wild tales.”

 Remus rolled his eyes but turned back to his plate. The rest of the room looked equally baffled and eager. Remus a wild child? Loops who had always been sure to never get too drunk at any team party? Who was always level headed and responsible? It didn’t fit.

“Oh yes. Please, please, PLEASE. I need to hear about Remus’s wild days. PLEASE,” Natalie begged Tonks looking like Christmas had come early.

“What’d ya think Remy? Should I start with the drag shows at Madam Puddifoot’s, drunk stories, cursing and fighting, or New Year’s Sophomore Year?” Tonks said.

Everyone burst out with questions while Remus put his head in his hands, laughing quietly to himself.

“Drag shows,” Sirius said over everyone else, looking right at Remus before turning to look at Tonks. “Definitely drag shows.”

[jamespotterthefirst]

Little Miracle

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 1,900 Warning: A few curse words. 

Author’s Note: This is part of the canon scene where Ethan and MC watch over Dolores’s baby, from Ethan’s POV. I was inspired by the line from the book that says they “talked long into the night.”

Catch up here.

The sterile room of the NICU feels stifling that night, the fluorescent lights shining on them both almost blinding. Ethan had been in that room many times before, but never like this. Never with a strain on his mind and heart so painful, he thinks he might burst from it. Now, sitting in the love seat, counting each of the baby's breaths, he feels as though he is in a foreign place—a vastly terrible one where his dearest friend does not exist anymore. 

The knot in his throat returns. 

Dammit. 

It threatens to constrict his breathing in the most debilitating way and he hates it. Urgently, he suppresses the flood of emotion at once, turning instead to glance at Lilac next to him. 

The young doctor is not looking at him. In the silence that stretches between them, she stares at the linoleum floor, her tear-streaked face is pale, her eyes bleary and red. The weight of their previous conversation hangs over them and he is surprised to discover it is not an unpleasant one. Instead, her quiet presence at his side feels oddly… comforting. More so than the many glasses of scotch he was planning on drowning in had he not stayed. 

Sensing his eyes on her, she glances up and offers him a tired smile which Ethan returns without hesitation. The moment lingers and before either of them can say anything, a soft cooing distracts them as the baby stretches.

An inexplicable warmth pierces through Ethan as he very gently offers Dolores' baby his hand. Small fingers close around his, weakly, yet powerful enough to steal his breath away. 

“She named him after you,” she informs him tenderly, as though the words she is offering him are made of the most delicate crystal. 

A small wave of shock courses through him as he looks at the name. 

Ethan Hudson. 

His throat tightens painfully yet again and all he can do is swallow. 

“I...see she did.”

A small silence.

Her soothing, kind voice saves him from his thoughts when she comments, “You must have known Dolores a long time.”

Ethan busies himself with carefully removing his hand from the baby's grasp. Despite the painful ache in his throat, he finds the words. “Over ten years. When I first emailed her I only meant to check in. But she was recently divorced, feeling alone, so she insisted on coffee.” In spite of himself, he smiles at the memory of the lively yet persistent young woman who had been so determined to befriend him. “And then it turned into more emails and meeting once every couple months for Sunday roast.”

“She sounds like a good friend.”

She was, he thinks before his mind catches up with him. When it does, the past tense stabs him like a knife to the side. 

“I didn’t make friends easily when I started here,” he begins, pausing only briefly to keep his voice from breaking. “So I was always grateful to her for that.”

The words finish ringing out in the quiet room and he swallows, suddenly exhausted from fighting back the excruciating pain of Dolores's death. As he falls silent, prickling eyes moving to the baby she fought so fiercely to protect, Ethan allows himself to mourn. The torrent of sorrow hits him is like the opening of a floodgate. 

He is certain he will drown in his grief until a soft, warm hand slides over his, looking small and delicate against his own. 

Ethan remains very still. 

“I’m so sorry this happened,” she murmurs, the sincerity her voice offers something akin to a caress. 

Ethan's eyes remain locked on their joined hands. Something about the sight and the feel of her soft skin against his tears away at his pride until all he wants to do is hold on to her desperately. Instead, he looks up to meet her eyes, unprepared for the quiet compassion in their depths. It hits him so abruptly that he is unable to look away, feeling something foreign stir in the depths of his chest, as consequential as the first blooms of Spring. 

“Me too.” 

As the seconds tick by and he becomes very aware that her hand remains on his, his pulse picks up, clamoring at his ears. With much effort, he forces himself to pull away. 

“I think we need coffee.”

“I can get some,” she says, already rising to her feet, unaware of the scorching trail her touch left behind on his skin. 

Ethan shakes his head. “No, I’ll go.” 

He leaves the room in quick strides, grateful for the brief moment of solitude. Being alone, however, proves to be a small torment since he is unable to suppress thoughts of earnest, kindhearted eyes breaking down every barrier he had stubbornly built that evening. Steaming mugs of coffee in hand, he returns to the NICU with an eager haste he refuses to acknowledge, missing the tendrils of her soft companionship. 

When he enters the room, Ethan finds her lovingly murmuring to the baby. “That’s it little tadpole. In and out.”

Lilac notices his arrival, offering him a sheepish smile at being caught. Cheeks blazing, she accepts the coffee gratefully. “This doesn’t taste like the cafeteria coffee,” she observes approvingly. 

“This is from my private coffee machine. As soon as I got an office, I vowed never to drink that caffeinated dishwater again.” He watches her take this information in with knowing amusement. “Nobody knows I have it so…”

Quite seriously, she vows, “I won’t tell a soul.”

Ethan chuckles, shaking his head, the first true flash of amusement that evening. 

They fall into a comfortable silence after that until the attending overseeing the case during the night shift strolls in to check on the baby. Satisfied with her findings, she quickly jots down the information on his chart. 

“Our little miracle,” she comments quietly, both to the baby and to them, before leaving the room. 

Ethan snuffs the urge to scoff at the word miracle. Lilac, of course, catches this and arches a brow at him. 

“You don't believe in those,” she says, not as a question but as an undeniable observation. 

Ethan hesitates to answer until he glances at her. There is no trace of judgment or derision on her lovely face, just fatigue from already spending several hours keeping watch. 

“There is no scientific basis to account for them,” he allows. “Frankly, I'm a little surprised you believe in them despite choosing to spend your career with facts and empirical evidence.” He is careful to keep all sarcasm out of his tone though he doubts he is successful. Years of being a sardonic little shit are hard to break. 

Lilac doesn't seem to mind, however, because she gives him an indulging sort of smile. “It is because I have studied science and facts that I am hesitant to dismiss their existence,” she explains. “Even with everything we know, there are some things science or reason cannot explain.��

“There are too many variables at play in a single minute, Rookie,” he counters. “When something occurs that we cannot explain away, it means a plethora of those variables aligned to create a perfect outcome.”

Lilac takes a careful sip of coffee, watching him over the rim of her mug. Not for the first time, he can see her mind working, formulating an argument. And like many times before, he longs to know the mystery of her thoughts.

“And getting that outcome despite all the innumerable possibilities,” she begins thoughtfully. “Isn't that a little miraculous?”

“No.”

Lilac laughs at the resolute way in which he shoots her down, though the sound is far from mocking. 

“Are you then crediting what science cannot explain to coincidence and luck, Dr. Ramsey?” 

He briefly pauses at that, thoughts stumbling. The haughty way in which she lifts the mug to her lips, concealing a smug smile, tells him she had intended to stump him. Instead of feeling annoyed, as he should, he feels a thrill of approval and something else entirely. 

“Not at all,” he returns when he recovers. “I am merely pointing out that there is still much we don't know as a species. When something inexplicable takes place, the real cause is most likely attributed to something we haven't learned yet.”

Despite looking utterly exhausted, her eyes glint, as though she had expected that very answer. 

 “'If he is confronted with a miracle as an irrefutable fact he would rather disbelieve his own senses than admit the fact.'”

Ethan blinks. 

“Are you seriously quoting Dostoevsky at me, Rookie?” 

This time, she dissolves into self deprecating laughter. “Sorry,” she says, scrunching her nose in the most endearing of ways. “I studied him as an elective when I was in my undergrad program so it's hard to break out of the habit of being a pretentious ass.”

“A pre-med student with a penchant for world literature,” he observes, allowing himself to relax into the air of amusement her laughter catalyzes. 

“I was downright insufferable.”

“So not much has changed.”

Lilac throws him what is meant to be an unamused glare, but she ruins it by losing the battle against a smile. Ethan grins, unable to help it. 

“What else do you walk around quoting at people who disagree with you?” he asks, genuinely curious. 

“Nothing as severe as Russian literature,” she quips. “I save that for the most stubborn of the people I argue with.” 

Ethan rolls his eyes though he too fails to stifle a smile. He begrudgingly accepts that he enjoys bantering with her, though he would never admit it out loud. 

“Be lucky I didn't quote Harry Potter at you,” Lilac continues sagely. “I am notorious for that, too.”

“There's nothing in the Potter books about miracles,” he points out. 

Lilac shoots him a surprised look. “You've read them?” 

“Yes, I read the few that were out when I was in high school. They had midnight release events at bookstores when a new one was published.”

She stares at him in stunned silence. 

“You went to that? That is so…” 

“Don't say–” 

“Cute.” 

The word sends a jolt through him, made worse by the sound of her tired but giddy laughter. Ethan allows her to enjoy the mirth, even if it's at his expense. If he was being honest, he thoroughly enjoyed it too, feeling his anguish ease with each passing moment. 

“Did you dress up?” she asks, eyes alight with excitement. 

“We are not speaking of this anymore.”

“You did, didn't you?” she manages to say through a wave of fresh laughter. “Who did you dress up as? Harry? Dumbledore? Snape?” 

Ethan makes a disgusted sound. “Don't insult me.”

Her laughter is uncontrollable by now and he can't help but join. “Good answer,” she commends. 

Bodies close on the love seat, they both relax further into their seats, contentment lingering in their fading smiles. Ethan allows himself one good look at her as she becomes momentarily distracted by her phone. The harsh lightning of the NICU washes her out, especially in her sleep-deprived, exhausted state, but somehow she still looks unfairly beautiful. Yet, there is something entirely different about her, though he is far too tired to decipher what. 

Lilac glances up to catch him staring. 

“What?” 

“Nothing.”

Her previous words echo in his mind.

 “There are some things science or reason cannot explain.”

Ethan thinks of Dolores and the unwavering friendship she offered him despite being surly and unapproachable. He thinks of the unconditional love she held for a being she had not even met yet, so profound she gave her life for him. He thinks of Lilac, offering him compassion and companionship despite his every effort to push her away. 

Lilac glances glances his way, beaming at him radiantly. As he returns the smile, his heart feeling ten times lighter than it did an hour ago, he admits to himself that she was right. 

______

Author’s Note: I don’t know what that was but if you made it here, thank you! 

I think I will skip the baseball game scene and go on to the fMRI scene. I might have that be slightly AU and have Ethan ask MC the questions. Let me know what you think <3 

______

Tags:  @openheart12 | @ethandaddyramsey | @noboundariesplease | @silverlitskies | @infinitiestones | @flyawayboo | @paulfwesley | @hatescapsicum | @myusualnerdyself | @thatysn | @choicesyouplayandmore | @chasingrobbie | @trappedinfandoms | @togetherwearerapture | @nooruleman | @caseyvalentineramsey | @axwalker | @parkerattano | @i-bloody-love-drake-walker | @kaavyaethanramsey | @edith-eggs1 | @choices-lurker | @jens-diamondchoices | @tefigranger | @ethanrcmsey | @coffeebeandragon | @senator-adrian-raines-wifey | @aestheticartwriting | @binny1985 | @mvalentine | @sanchita012 | @drethanramslay | @ramseysno1rookie | @takeharryandgo | @aworldoffandoms | @desmaranj | @ josieplayschoices | @magicalshepherdtreeprofessor| @oofchoices | @ethxnrxmsey | @octobereighth | @colossalpainintheass | @kopenheart12 | @lilyvalentine | @honeyandsunfl0wers | @virtualrain202 | @enmchoices | @tyrilstouch | @rookie-ramsey​

@dulceghernandez |  @lion-ess24 | @emotionalswift2 | @the-soot-sprite |

[haruhey]

🤔 💭 and this is not a question but I gotta say, I love your writing, hope you are doing great!

hey sgtapepper !! i’m really glad you enjoy my writing and, besides the fact school will start up for me in a few weeks, i’m doing great :)

as for your questions:

🤔 What is the hardest part of writing fic?

everything !! the hardest part about writing a fanfic is honestly writing all the parts, ufeel me?

the way i go about my writing process is i basically film a little movie in my head, full of camera angles and all that other good stuff, then i try my best to transcribe everything which you guys then read. the hardest part really is just the writing part which sucks because that’s literally the only thing you need to do to write fanfic.

💭 What is a headcanon you have about your own work?

hmm i don’t really know how to reply to this question to be honest. i feel like the way i write doesn’t really give much room for headcanons since i use so many hyphens to ‘talk to the audience’ essentially and give some expository throughout the fanfic. though, maybe i could use this to explain my blueprints for how i model the whole storyline and experiences of the ‘you’ character?

‘you’

in the early fics, met during the prison (recruited by him or by glenn), but now i favour the meeting setting being the greene farm (you got stumbled across during his search for sophia)

has been with groups before meeting team family but none have stuck

was still relatively naïve about stuff about the apocalypse (esp on the more physical/violent side) before meeting daryl and then voluntarily approached him to learn about stuff, making him confused because ‘why tf is this person talking to me??’

not much younger than daryl, 1-7 years probably just because i’m personally not that big of a fan between huge age gaps. i don’t have a problem with them, especially if both characters get together when they have similar life experiences (i don’t mind connie x daryl because, though their age gap is probably a decade, connie is ~35-40 and daryl is ~50), but i have a problem when it’s morally reprehensible like *coughbethylcough*

after the prison, met up again sometime before terminus or during terminus (there’s some leeway there - maybe you were with rick, michonne and carl, stumbled across them after the claimers confrontation by yourself, maybe you were with maggie - whatever drives the plot forward). because beth had such an impact on him, i wouldn’t want to erase that from his character

went to grady, but went with rick for the hostage stuff

after getting to alexandria, was probably assigned to work at the infirmary, but after carol recognizes pete’s abuse, you opt for runs instead until he gets murked

as for daryl

bestie can juggle !! nothing as advanced as knives or anything, but he can do three apples and maybe four beanbags if you let him practice a bit beforehand

naturally doesn’t need a lot of sleep, but also takes a really short nap at least once a week

tries to give himself stitches/hides wounds he thinks he can take care of himself so he doesn’t use resources or have to confess to you how he got them

didn’t have a cell, instead took one of the admin rooms in the prison (like where guards would stand to watch over prisoners and click clack away on computers)

probably was religious at one point (only to the extent of going to church on sunday), but fell out of religion really really young

was good at school but because of his brother’s reputation and bad home life, he was never given the resources to actually end up pursuing anything academically and probably has a sort of inferiority complex if the topic of undergrad comes up

he can draw !! picked up the skill when he was a kid but hid it because merle thought it was lame or would give him shit for it. still does it, too - on pieces of scrap paper, in the dirt if he goes out to hunt and feels bored - and if he’s pining really hard and can spare the resources (which he usually can’t), he’ll draw them

stick and pokes his own tattoos (that BBH skull hello??)

doesn’t shower much because of childhood trauma (dunked into cold water, not being able to breathe as one of his parents washes his hair because they kept his head dunked in) and even as an adult, he’s shower adversed because he has to touch his scars

doesn’t take off his shoes in his house which !! take off your shoes !! you’re in the house !! outdoor shoes don’t belong on indoor floors !!

lives alone in a smaller house since nobody wanted to room with him, carol lives with tobin, you and tara already had a deal, and a bunch of people died when he was redirecting the heard so there were a bunch of houses that were vacant

also lives in the basement because he enjoys the shade and the coolness in the mornings when he wakes up

rips off his own sleeves (but only has a few of them) and gives his sleeves to carol

i also enjoy the bisexual daryl headcanon !!

[stardustkenobi]

Only Lookin’ At You

Poe Dameron x Reader

Request: “HEY BITCH I N E E D 90 FROM THE PROMPT LIST WITH MY HUSBAND THANKS IN ADVANCE” @niffleurs​ she’s here

Warnings: fluffity fluff fluff

“To the women who will always be bridesmaids” Sophia said, her alcohol induced vibrato and grandeur hiding the fact that yes, she was very bitter that her boyfriend of ten years still had not popped the question.

Along with the other six bridesmaids, you rose your glass of champagne and clinked it with each one. Hannah, your best friend in the whole entire universe, was finally getting married — the third of your friends to get married in the past couple of years.

Undergrad was a long ways away as you took a hefty sip of your drink, eying the rest of the women that shared the same silk colored robes as you in the back room that you had been shooed off to to prepare to walk down the aisle. You picked at the monogram on the left side of your chest, letting out a subtle sigh. It was definitely difficult to understand Sophia’s frustration, considering the fact that your twenties had been plagued with bad hookups, one nasty relationship that was on again, off again for the better part of three years that ended in a crescendo of yelling, thrown insults, and tears of relief when you finally left the apartment, and disappointment.

Most of the movies and love songs and books that carried you to the oh so disappointing age of 32 had convinced you that you would find that one special person by now and you weren’t necessarily worried about it, but days like today punctuated the fact that it just hadn’t happened yet.

Shrugging your shoulders, you joined your friends as they began the mindless process of getting ready for wedding party pictures and the eventual arrival of the bride to be. Your hair was braided and twisted into the style that Hannah had meticulously picked out for you. Your lashes were plucked and your face was painted before Sophia was pulling you to the mirror. Between her and Hannah’s twin sister, you were finally placed into the gown that effectively made you a member of your sorry group of seven always a bridesmaids.

“You look amazing.” Sophia beamed as she flattened out the waistline of the gown.

Giving her a grimace in the mirror, you picked out little parts of the get up that irritated you. Were you complaining about your inclusion in the wedding party? Absolutely not — Hannah was practically a sister to you and her fiancé was one of the kindest souls that you had ever met. It wasn’t their fault that you had hoped you would have been the next of your girlfriends to be decked out in white and kissings the love of your life in front of what seemed to be the entire world to show that he was yours and you were his.

“Time for pictures!” A voice dragged you from your dreamlike trance in front of the mirror and with a push from Sophia and a bouquet slapped into your hands, you were off to the front lawn of the wedding venue to take pictures with the groomsmen.

The seven groomsmen were a mix of people you knew at varying degrees. Some were friends of the groom that you knew from college, others were childhood friends, a few were coworkers.

The groomsman that you were introduced to at the rehearsal as the man who would walk you to the altar less than twenty four hours ago was a man named Poe. He worked with Hannah’s fiancé — the two had climbed the corporate ladder of the marketing agency they had started out in fresh from senior year of college and, almost ten years later, they were practically running the place.

Poe had been mentioned time and time again by Hannah, who absolutely loved to play match maker. She was convinced that you would fall in love with him and be it your stubborn nature or the fact that you were becoming absolutely obsessed with the fact that you hadn’t found the one yet, you froze up the minute he introduced himself to you as you hung around the edges of the altar waiting for instructions.

He was indescribably handsome and from what you knew he was smart. However, the cynic in you questioned whether he would even be interested. Sure, he was single and just about your age, but for one thing, you certainly hadn’t had the best track record with relationships over the past fifteen years. What would make trying with him any different? And why would he even glance your way unless Hannah had put ideas in his head already?

You were unsure of what you wanted, both in life and in a partner and as much as you wanted to explore that, you were afraid to get hurt again.

So there you stood, chatting half heartedly with your girlfriends as thoughts of perpetual loneliness swirled around your brain. They most definitely were not welcomed thoughts, but you were having a significantly hard time quelling them, particularly as you glanced over at Poe who was somehow even more handsome in the standard tux all of the groomsmen wore. Your chest squeezed as you watched him goof around with his friends in front of the camera, becoming more and more attractive by the second.

“You think he’s cute, don’t you?” Hannah’s twin teased by your ear after the photographer had finished up with the guys. Of course Hannah had said something to her – this was Hannah for God’s sake.

“Shut up, Margo.” You hissed as the photographer approached your group to take pictures. “I don’t even know him.”

Marge smirked as the seven of you squeezed together, smushed up for a series of photos that ranged from serious to goofy. “He’s been watching you since you walked into rehearsal last night with every opportunity he has to.” She said plainly, turning to stand back to back with you as Sophia suggested some ridiculous pose that made some of the other girls laugh.

“Don’t put ideas in my head.” You said through a forced smile, voice an octave higher than normal.

She snorted, elbowing you teasingly. “Take a look yourself when you get a chance, why don’t you?” She said in a sing songy voice, then left to stand somewhere else at the direction of the photographer.

Your eyebrows furrowed together as the camera continued to snap away. Letting your eyes trail over to the group of guys standing a little ways off, sure enough, you met a pair of soft, brown irises that flickered away almost as quickly as you had made eye contact.

“Maid of honor and best man? Can I have you both over here for some photos, please?” The photographer said quickly, trying to adhere to the strict schedule of the day.

Margo shoved you forward to meet Poe — of course he was the best man because this was all a stupid, cliché little joke that fate was playing on you. Of course you’d have to be on his arm for the next two hours until you could finally break free at the reception, which would give you just enough time to formulate some dumb fantasy about how you’d catch Hannah’s bouquet and he’d catch her garter and your eyes would meet from across the room knowingly and he’d slip you his number on the back of his place card and it would all be just like the YA novels you used to read under your covers well past your bed time in high school and he’d —

“You good, Y/N?” Poe asked softly, hands in his pockets as he walked up to you and effectively pulled you out of your stream of consciousness.

Your knees were weak as you glanced up at him, nodding shyly. “I’m good.” You promised. “Just nerves, I think.”

He smiled, holding his arm out as the photographer directed. “You seemed a little nervous last night, too.” He said as he smiled, posing with you as the photographer began to take your pictures. Glancing down, he pushed a curl out of your eyes. “Hope it’s nothing I did.”

Your smile was soft as you chanced a quick little peek up at him. Yep, still gorgeous. “It’s not you at all.” You giggled as the flash and click of the camera caught the less than staged moment. “I think it’s just the heels, if I’m being honest. Hannah went with ones that are just way too high and I might face plant at some point if I’m not careful.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head as his eyes squeezed shut. Another snap of the camera. “She and Jack always said that you were funny, I’ll never get why they didn’t introduce us sooner.”

Your eyes rolled as you snorted, letting your bouquet hang at your side. “Of course she’s talked about me.” You said as you turned to the side a bit at the photographer’s request. “I’m sorry if she’s made you listen to stories about me at nauseum, she’s hell bent on setting all of her friends up and I totally get it if you’re, like, weirded out by being stuck with me today.”

Poe’s head tilted to the side as he studied you, taking your free hand at the photographer’s insistence. Snap — another sincere moment caught on camera, another piece of evidence for you to ruminate over when the photos finally came into your inbox months down the line when the fire in your belly had been doused and forgotten. Another photo to ignite that flame again and make you wonder if it ever could have worked. So many should’ve, could’ve, would’ves would more likely than not be plaguing your subconsciousness. “I actually asked about you when I saw that post of you and Hannah, Jack, and Margo at Governor’s Ball two summers ago. She never brought you up beforehand.”

Your mouth opened and closed as you searched for the words to respond, more likely than not looking like a fish. You willed your mind to say something, anything to counter this information as Margo yelled to you and your counterpart that it was time to get ready to process into the small chapel on the property the wedding was being held at.

“Guess that’s us.” Poe said with an almost shit eating grin, holding his arm out for you. “We can talk more about things later, if you’d like.”

You took his arm after a moment, not necessarily hesitating because you were afraid to touch him, but more so because you were afraid to mess up this delicate situation that mirrored so many action movies where the main protagonist debated whether or not to cut the red or blue wire to diffuse some sort of detonator. “I’d like that.” You finally said, choosing the lamest and subsequently safest response that you could muster.

The wedding went off without a hitch. Hannah and Jack were undeniably the cutest couple you had ever seen as they shakily exchanged vows they had written for each other in the dead of the over the past year, edits meticulously made and different word choices tested. Their kiss brought you to tears and the whole ceremony pulled you out of your own selfish thoughts for a little bit in the most relieving way possible.

You were sat on Hannah’s left, Poe was on Jack’s left, at the long table at the front of the ballroom the reception was being held in. Poe had finished his speech right after yours, receiving as many laughs as you had. When the bride and groom finally moved to the dance floor, Poe was immediately at your side, chatting your ear off eagerly as the two of you watched people spin around the dance floor for the better part of an hour.

“So,” Poe said after your fit of giggles from a joke he had cracked had died down. A slow song was just starting to play over the speakers. “You don’t have a date, I don’t have a date. They’re playing that cheesy ass Taylor Swift song that everyone’s been having their first dance to at their weddings and neither of us have had any excuse to get up and dance tonight…”

Your cheeks flushed and you hoped it would come across as being a result from the flute of champagne you had downed. “Are you asking me to dance?” “I’m not saying that we should go dance.”

“I think you’re asking me to dance.” You whispered teasingly, leaning forward with a knowing smile. “Lucky for you, if you weren’t asking me to dance, I’m going to have to pass. I don’t dance.”

He quirked an eyebrow, tilting his head. “You don’t like to dance?”

“No.” You backtracked. “I love dancing, just…Not in front of a ton of people.” Your grin was sheepish as you shrugged, picking at a piece of link on the skirt of your gown. “Too many opportunities to slip up and look — what are you doing?”

Poe’s hand was gripping yours and, as much as your mind screamed at you to not follow him out to what could be a potentially embarrassing situation caught on camera for generations of Hannah and Jack’s family to see, you allowed yourself to be pulled out to a quieter corner of the wooden dance floor and pulled to the chest of a man that, despite knowing him for just a day and really only talking to him for an hour, felt more familiar to you than any other man you had met before.

“Pretend that there is no one else here but us” He said softly, his hands finding your waist as Taylor crooned about a love that was three summers strong. “I won’t let you fall, promise. Eyes on me, okay?”

You nodded, totally dumbfounded as you started to sway with Poe and swallowed the lump threatening to rise in your throat. Your shaky hands rose to wrap around the back of his neck, subconsciously playing with the ends of his hair.

The conversation continued to flow quietly as the song reached the second chorus and by the bridge, his forehead was pressed to yours in the most tender of ways that erased any doubt in your mind that he had spent the first part of his night with you simply out of obligation to his friends.

You didn’t catch the glances shared between Margo, Hannah, and Jack a little ways off. You didn’t see how the whispered excitedly about how their plans were finally coming to fruition and how their stubborn friend was finally letting her guard down again for someone who wouldn’t take advantage of the vulnerability. Shit, you wouldn’t have cared if you saw or heard because of the way Poe was currently looking at you.

His words were filled with hope for the future and at the end of the night as you all trudged off to go your separate ways to get back to the hotel you all were staying at, the jacket of his tux was draped around your shoulders and your phone buzzed with text after text from him as you climbed into the car with Margo and Sophia.

You hadn’t caught Hannah’s bouquet or garter, Margo and Sophia both chided from the front of the car.

You smiled to yourself as your head hit the headrest on your seat. No you hadn’t — you had been too busy dancing with Poe in the gardens just outside the all glass doors to even notice it happening.

[popculturebuffet]

Amphiba Reviewcaps Catchup Special: Lost In Newtopia/Sprig Gets Schooled/Little Frogtown/Hopping Mall

In a 4 episode marathon to make up for lost time: Hop Pop handcuffs Sprig to him because that’s not troubling and Polly And Anne head off on their own mostly uninteresting adventure. Sprig gets into college and regrets it  much like most college students. Hop Pop goes on a noir adventure while Anne harasses children and it all ends with a wacky mall adventure that ends in an utter tearjerker. Pitter Patter, let’s get at er after the cut. 

Whelp i’m behind. Over the last two weeks i’ve been busy moving into a new room in the house, and moving my stuff into said room and making it feel like home, and when i’ve had time I either had new coverage to start, or a series passing to honor, or in the case of yesterday had to have my wisdom tooth removed because it got so bad I couldn’t think out of nowhere. SO yeah been a pretty exausting few weeks... but with only one episode left before Amphibia likely goes on hiatus for the rest of the year, Halloween special excepted, I don’t really have the time to dawdle on this. So not much of an introduction let’s hop to it. 

Lost in Newtopia

This will be a quick one, but this one was.. eh. Not BAD, as the first, last and middle scenes are all really good. it’s just between theere it’s not much intresting.  The opening on the bus was pure gold as Hop Pop as usual gets fired up about something boring, then casually handcuffs his grandson because that’s normal. Then again this is the same man who also thought brainwashing his grandchildren was a minor slight so this is a step up somehow. Also he does have some logic for it after Sprig blew up a robot factory and , unbenowst to him, stole a powerful credit card for funsies. But .. get a dog leash or something.  The scene was also great as we got to see Anne’s mom for the first time! And the scene with her wanting to get out and try exotic food her tummy’s not ready for was really adorable and relatable as having a young nice, I understand them asking for things they really shoudln’t have and then holding a grudge over it.  But then the episode just sorta.. sputters for most of it’s run time. The bit with the tail shop is rfairly enjoyable, but the mishap with the vendor and the parade just aren’t all that funny and the basic conciet of tryign to do it up like locals hasn’t been done AS often as I’d think but frankly How I Met Your MOther, Back before it didn’t so much shoot itself in the foot as shoot both it’s legs off, did this slightly better with first time in new york, where the inverse happened, i.e. the locals pretending to be tourists.  The ending scene was great, from Hop Pop going from terror at “street weridos” to casual happiness at seeing his grandaughter and adopted grandaughter (And my heart flew to hear him call anne that. I mean it was obvious but i’ts still nice to hear. Like when Scrooge told webby to Call him uncle scrooge but without the horribly scarring assholery the next episode he still hasn’t properly apologized for to her. ) and Polly and Anne’s terrible names for each other.> It was good stuff it’s just overal an okay episode. Good enough to entertain but just ntohing really out of the ordinary for this show, but with funny enough bits to keep invested. Next. 

Sprig Gets Schooled Ehhhhh... this one HAD potetial, an intresting setting, Sprig getting in on his talent, plenty of fun college tropes, Hop Pop struggling with his grandson leaving the nest.. there was good stuff here, but like too many episodes this season it wasn’t used as well as it couldv’e been. 

The episode has the family come upon Newtopia University, where Sprig’s talent with stopping mantises and with a fiddle gets him a scholarship, which is one of Hop Pop’s dreams, but both quickly regret it: Sprig dosen’t fit in while Hop Pop misses his baby boy. It comes to a head with Sprig tryign to sneak in and Anne and Polly trying to sneak in for hyjinks. 

But overall it’s just.. eh. it has a few good gags, but the anne and polly plot has been done so many times by now, and while that alone isn’t enough to make it not all that fun the fact it isn’t funny or unique is when The Simpsons, Undergrads, Futrama , Solar Opposites and Bobs Burgers just off the top of my head have done fratboy hyjinks episodes way better.

 But what dosen’t help is while Hop Pop’s emotional part of the episode, missing his boy and wanting him to come bome, works, Sprig just.. get sbored. There’s nothing about how hard school is or him missing the others it’s just.. he dosen’t like it so he tries to leave. Instead of having an emotinal episode about him possibly fitting in there, or struggling to fit in there or some third thing it’s just.. an average 10 year old not liking college becuase of course he dosen’t. He’s too young to keger or really ond with his clasemates. It’s just an eh watch. Not as unpleasant as quarallers pass but without that episodes good parts to really help it be entertaining. Ugh.  And you might say “well every episode dosen’t have to have an emotinal core jackass” which.. yeah your right. But it has to be funny. Or entertaining or have something and not just be .. eh. You CAN be just a funny episode if you do that right. And amphibia USUALLY does that and has an emotional hook to make it even better. And the proof is in the next two episodes. 

Little Frogtown Now this.. this is more like it. After two less than memorable episodes, we get two classics in a row. Granted since I grew up on calvin and hobbes and thus grew up with the two tracer bullet arcs...

Well three techncially with the haircut thing but yeah, given one of them was in my first comic strip collection ever, the indespensible calvin and hobbes if your curious, I’ve always had a soft spot for noir episodes and to animations credit there have been some classics; The recurirng Numbah 2 detective stories in Kids Next Door, Venture Bros classic “everybody comes to hanks” and of all things, Garfield Babes and Bullets. Yes that happened and yes it IS actually good. 

Oh and if your wondering if Garfield solved something family friendly like a Lasanga Robbery, or his teddy bear going missing or odie being kidnapped for a dog fight nope! He’s hired by a college professors wife to find out who killed her husband since it looked like a simple accident, but unsuprisingly it wasn’t. Oh and did I mention that not only is this based on a story from the book garfield’s 9 lives, which got it’s own special for the rest of the stories it chose to adapt and a few new ones to replace those it didn’t, but in that story it’s about a chuch deacon. That’s right Garfield tackled corruption in the church. Your welcome. But i’ve talked about Garfield Babes and Bullets enough.. I mean for today. I clearly need to cover this and 9 lives as a whole at some point. Let’s get back to this episode. Point is noir parodies are great and gafield has done some weird and wonderful shit.  But my like of it aside this is a genuinely clever episode that has it’s own neat takes on the genre. The basic setup is simple: Hop Pop takes the kids to Sal’s, a restraunt owned by an old friend of his who got so sucessful with his delcious sandwitches and secret sauce he moved up to Newtopia.. but when Hop Pop finds the place he finds it in shambles, with no one there and Sal entirely missing. So while the kids head off for the arcade next door, Hop Pop goes into full noir mode to find his missing friend.  It’s that core that works. Sure lots of shows use the “friend we only just heard of” plot device but here it works because it’s so simply used here: They were friends years and years ago, sal moved away probably decades ago, and he simply hasn’t kept in touch. Both are busy: Sal with his restraunt and what we find out here, and Hop Pop with his family and later having to swoop in when his daughter or son and their spouse died. It’s perfectly acceptable. To me while i’ve bitched plenty about cliches it’s mostly been about HOW you use them. About using them right instead of just coasting on an old plot to fill out your episodes for the season. If you don’t have an intresting story to tell, then use the 11 minutes for something ELSE. And here.. they do and have a fun spin on noir by having hop pop’s narration talk to him. While that’s happened before with narration gags I haven’t seen it in a noir parody before and it’s just pure comedy gold, and Bill Farmer’s acting makes you genuinely invested in finding out what happened to this character you never met. Bill really sells how worried hop pop is without over doing it and how important this guy and his sammiches are to him. 

The final twist while not entirely suprising is intresting: Turns out , after Hop Pop finds people seemingly having stolen the recipie, Sal’s restraunt.. simply went belly up. Which sadly, makes sense: he had good ingredients but he’s in the world’s capital, where ther’es probably tons of mom and pop restraunts and giants of cuisine. It’s hard to start a buisness anywhere let alone the biggest city int he world. So Sal simply pivoted, sold his recipie and became a billionare. It’s a good solution that teaches hop pop a lessson: Change happens, things you really love like comfort food restraunts won’t last forever. I myself miss when this area I live in had a tgi fridays and it’s probably never coming back> Things change.. what matters more is people and moving on. Though he does send hop pop on with a bottle of sauce. It’s a good lesson for kids and a fine ribbon tied on one of the season, and hte series, best.  And of course before we move on we have the b plot which is funny as it is relatable as some little shit steps in line in front of anne and being anne she overreacts.. and gets tazed and gets everyone banned. Not a huge subplot but it’s funny as it is relatable as someone whose both stood in massive lines and had people cut in and felt it was massively unfair. Never got into a fistfight over it but tha’t sbecasuse arcades are rare and cornona probably wiped out the rest. Ha ha.. I hate this year. One more!

Hopping Mall

Last one. Another simple plot: Hop Pop forces the kids to use 2 coppers a piece to buy souviners instead of letting them use the card because it means more.. which is bullcrap. While using your own money for a present DOES mean a lot, my mom gave me money plenty of times to buy gifts and covered me plenty. The real meaning behind a gift for someone is that you picked it out yourself, that whatver thing you picked made you think of them and that you meant it for them. Weather it be a mug, a billy bass, or the great mighty poo on a t shirt, what matters is it comes from the heart. Though Hop Pop also buys himself an easy chair and sends it home and admits h’es a hypocrite so maybe we’re not supposed to take him seriously.  While this is there to make drama mostly for Anne it’s a plot device I like as it’s both the kind of nonsense an adult would make and then not follow, and it leads to a really good plot as our kids find their things; Hop Pop introduces the kids to haggling, which Polly mistakes for using tried and true mafia approved methods of intpmidation, leg breaking, arson and threats of all of the above andc omes back with her own snail and tiny cart. Sprig being sprig finds a gift for Ivy in seconds that’s a nice stick.. that also shooots lasers because I dunno. Also nice of the show to actually MENTION his girlfriend.... several episodes in.. with again NO goodbye to her or anyone else. And yes that’s still a sticking point this far in it wouldn’t of killed them to include that in one of the premire episodes.  Anyways that leaves Anne who finds a nice teapot for her mom, but soon has to do what all people who can’t afford a tea pot too: enter a demolition derby against a mother daughter team using shopping carts. It’s a neat set piece, as is Anne apparently knowing carts because her and her friends hung around the mall a lot, which given we saw her and sasha out and out steal one for hyjinks, it’s a nice continuity nod. Anyways our heroes win the race, but Sprig looses his stick saving polly and their rival has to ravage her tail to save polly again. I also love the return of the “not the baby!” cry from “Marcy at the Gates” which I also swear has been used before on this show but can’t remember specifically where.  It’s revealed their rival, and her daughter both of which are entertaining especially the daughter, wants the pot because it was one of her mom’s designs and it means a lot and that touches a nerve with Anne, so she lets her have it, but does get a lovely butterfly clip from the daughter. After the hop pop gag we get the most infamous, and best scene of the episode that ties the above together.

 Sprig wakes up to find Anne ruminating on the balcony.. and for the first time since she got here really, she breaks down a bit about how much she misses her. And my honest interpretation is she’s been holding how bad she feels for her mom, who she admits to not having the best relationship with but both loving each other dearly: That she likely blames herself for the theft, for listenting to sasha, for getting them all stranded, for destroying her friendship with Sasha and possibly not being able to bring her home with her. But mostly for causing her parents undo pain, having no idea how hurt they are or what they’ll feeel when she comes back, no idea if she’ll even be able to make it home and see them again.. it’s a lot to hold in and with all she’s had to deal with I feel she’s been holding it inside just so she dosen’t snap. She already has enought o deal with especially after “reunited. Thinking for amoment about how her parents are likely in utter misery desperatley looking for her when she’s not even on earth... it’d break her.. and it does. She admits missing her, regretting they fought all the time and sobbing a bit... and the scene only gets sadder when Sprig interjects.  He asks a simple question; What was she like. While we STILL don’t know the specifics we finally find out that his mom died when he and polly were really little, polly was probably a newborn... he never really knew her and wonders.. can you miss someone you never really knew? It’s a sad, sobering moment. We assumed sprig was fine with his parents being gone because like Anne and her parents he just never brought it up. But sometimes a person just burys something or is sad or upset in private, speaking from personal experince here. Sometimes you don’t talk about something beacuse you don’t know HOW and Sprig likely just dosen’t want to make hop pop more upset at reminding him his daughter and or son and daughter in law and or son in law are dead, something he likely deals with every day. It’s a powerfully acted scene and ends as the two cry softly together while the credits play over the newtopia night sky. Just a beautiful powerful scene that ties a mostly comedy episode together into something fantastic and like it’s partner episode, one of the series best. 

And with that catchup is done. Join me saturday for more of this, more loud house, and moe moe moe, how do you like me how do you like me, moe moe moe, why do you like me nobody likes me... if you want more subsuricbe, check the backlogs ont hea ssioated pages, and shoot me an ask for a suggestion or a dm to comission a full review. While Amphibia weekly coverage is wrapping up for a while after saturday i’ll be back for the halloween special and then whenever the show returns in full, Ducktales coverage restarts monday and Loud House Coverage that began with Schooled continues sometime this weekend along with a possible foruth thing. Until then, stay safe and GO TEAM VENTURE! 

[harryandhishook]

Wings are made to Fly Chapter 4

Pairing: Not fully sure yet, just gonna see how it goes (Maybe Evie? Don’t know yet)

Setting: Auradon

Warning: Erm ... none? I think at least

Summary: Everyone knows what type of person they are, Fairy, Goblin, Dragon or just a simple person and Harry thinks he’s just a simple guy but the more he comes into contact with Auradon and magic, the more the people around him notice something off and maybe Auradon is the only place with answers

Words: 2165

Requested: Nope, me and my Fiance were roleplaying this and I thought it would be awesome to make it into a Fanfic

Side note: I am so incredibly sorry I haven’t updated in a while, I went on holiday a couple of weeks ago, Uni has been crazy since it’s my final year on this course of undergrad and just AAHH so here’s chapter 4, I’m currently writing chapter 6 and just need to check for errors for errors in chapter 5 as well as continue other fanfics like my Gav Con and some smut I’m writing, also sorry it’s so short :)

First // Prev // Next

Several weeks went by, Harry had been going through many different procedures, operating on his back to check that nothing had harmed his organs or bones, physio therapy to make sure he could continue to walk fine and then simple exercises on his wings to make sure he could properly use them. To everyone’s amazement, he was a fast healer and definitely a fast learner, it was almost as if he had been using his wings for as long as his arms, every movement he made, his wings did something too, if he was sad, anxious or scared, his wings would lower down but if he was happy, excited or calm, his wings would go up and for the first time in months, his life felt normal again … well, as normal as if can be.

Once again, the group were sat in the pirates room, Gil, Uma, Ben, and on Harry’s request, Max. Each of them sat around the young Hook who was quietly snuggled up on the bay window bench, watching the world around him go by, none of them speaking for a while, just enjoying the peace. They watched as Harry’s wings fluttered softly against his back, twitching at every little movement his head made as he watched people below him go about their day to day routine,

“I’ve been thinking,” the young pirate said, his eyes still trained to the ground under his window, his soft brown locks almost glowing in the light of the sun, “I haven’t been out of me room since I got here, I’ve been cooped up, hiding away as I’ve healed … I want to go out and I want, god I can’t believe I’m saying this but … I want to go to class, I want to actually try and show them reasons of why I should stay here …” the young pirate finally turned his head to look at the group who were all now watching him with shocked expressions, “I want to talk to the pixies” he stated quite suddenly, causing almost everyone’s jaws in the group to drop; the ferocious pirate, Harry Hook, wanted to attend school.

Uma was the first to do something other than sit there and look like a fool. She slowly stood from her chair, taking small steps to sit beside Harry at the window, her small, smooth hands taking his larger ones in hers as she smiled at him,

“If that’s what you want Harry, we will help you, Ben can get in contact with the queen of the pixies and we can help build up your confidence, you’re not alone in this” she reassured, rubbing her thumbs across the backs of his hands, looking around at the others who were nodding in agreement, “Tell us what to do and we’ll do it” she continued as she looked back at her friend who was looking just as happily back, his eyes full of an emotion she had never seen on the boys face before, complete happiness and adoration, “Tell us what you want to do, Harry” she whispered, waiting for his response.

Harry watched her for a moment, thinking of the things he would need, first, he’d need to hide his wings, then he would need to discuss his predicament with Fairy God Mother and obviously the Queen of the Pixies then just try and go about his life,

“I know what I need, however, I will have to tell one other person” the pirate explained but before he could continue any further, his hands were squeezed by Umas and a concerned expression crossed her face,

“Are you sure? Harry, I trust you but are you sure you want to tell anyone else? What if they tell others? What if they use it against you?” she asked, her voice desperate and full of worry, her hands not loosening their grip causing Harry to try and pry his hands away,

“Uma … Captain … calm ye’self, please” the pirate demanded as he tried desperately to stop Uma from her rambling, “I promise ye’, they won’t, I trust them with me life” he reassured just as he finally managed to pry his hands from hers, quickly moving to place them on either side of her face, stopping any words from leaving her mouth, “It’s Evie, Uma, I need to ask Evie for new coats, she’s the only one I know who can make clothing and I know she’d be able to help me, she’d understand more than anyone” the young pirate managed to explain, staring into her eyes as a way of trust as he spoke before letting go of her face, smiling softly.

With a sigh, Uma gaze moved to the large widows beside them, her mind racing with nothing but worry for her friend,

“Okay, say we tell Evie, then what?” the Sea Witch asked, turning her head back to look at him, a frown present on her face as she started to construct different outcomes in her mind,

“My plan is, I ask Evie to make me some new clothing to hide my wings easily, then when the Queen arrives, I tell Fairy God Mother so she can help make arrangements while I find out what’s going on then after that, I get used to living life in the shadows … or as best in the shadows as possible at least” the young boy finally explained to them all and it seemed he had made up his mind quite quickly as he turned to look at everyone else in the room, “Please, this is all I ask” he pleaded, giving everyone little puppy dog eyes to try and help his case which amazingly made everyone cave quite quickly,

“Okay” Ben started, the first to speak out of the rest of them, “I’ll get in contact with Queen Clarion, since it’s the middle of summer, she shouldn’t be too busy, Max can get Evie here without too much suspicion, especially if he says that I’m needing her” the King explained, smiling as he stood, ready to get everything sorted, “I think the sooner we get all this done, the better, don’t worry Harry, you’ll be able to go outside soon, I promise you” he reassured before bowing his head to everyone, “If you will all excuse me, I will get everything in order” Ben turned and quickly left the room, pulling his phone from his pocket on his way out.

With Ben gone, Max stood, smiling softly at Harry as he stepped closer, placing a hand upon the boys shoulder before speaking,

“I’ll go retrieve Miss Evie for you” he said before taking his leave of the room, leaving Harry alone with Gil, who was still adorable as ever, sitting with a goofy smile on his face and Uma, who was watching Harry with a very unconvinced expression on her face,

“Harry, are you one hundred percent sure this is a good thing to do, what if Mal finds out, you know she still has ill feelings towards us, she’d never let it slide” the Captain stated, a slight tone of fear behind her words. Harry knew it was risky, he knew that there could be some bad consequences behind his actions but if he didn’t try then he wouldn’t know,

“I trust Evie, I trust she wouldn’t do something so big out of malice and anyway, little miss princess has never really had a problem with us, it was always the purple bitch” he reassured, taking one of her hands in his, gently tracing soft patterns on the back, “I know ye’re scared for me Capt’n but please, trust me” he begged, raising her hand to his lips to place a soft kiss on her dark smooth skin.

Uma went to argue, a sigh left her as she opened her mouth but was interrupted by a soft knock on the door and a deep voice behind it,

“Master Harry, Miss Evie is here” the voice, now recognised as Max, spoke through the door, allowing Harry some warning. The Pirate bit his lip, fear evident on his face as he turned to look at Uma, pleading with his eyes for her to answer which she did with a smile.

The Sea Witch stood from the seat against the bay window, walking to the door slowly before turning back to Harry who gave her a hesitant nod, making her open the large door, keeping the gap small for the moment as she poked her head out,

“Harry is a little nervous so Evie, please, don’t freak or anything” Uma warned before finally opening the door enough for them to walk in, quickly closing it once both were standing fully inside.

For a moment, the situation must have confused Evie as she looked around the room, seeing nothing that would require her presence until her gaze stopped at Harry who was now stood, wings down against his back as he cautiously made his way closer to her,

“Evie, I am trusting ye’ with something big here, ye’ are me only hope to let me live a normal life in this school and I know ye’ Evie, I know that ye’ are too sweet to let anyone live in fear so please Evie, I’m begging ye’, help me” the pirate pleaded as he finally stood directly in front of her; the confusion on Evies face still very apparent until the soft glow of his wings caught her eyes as he slowly raised them to fold out beside him, revealing them to her.

The young princess gasped as she watched the mystery unfold in front of her; her gaze ran over his wings slowly, taking in everything with a little confusion and worry. With caution and a request of permission in her eyes, Evie raised her hand carefully, reaching out to touch the sparkling limb; her fingers came into contact suddenly as the Pirate turned his side towards her, letting the wing move against her dainty fingers,

“Harry … I … I don’t understand how I could possibly help…” she whispered as she carefully rolled her fingers across his wing, watching how the wings fluttered like a shiver.

Finally, the moment was stopped when the pirate stepped away to look at her, an almost scared expression on his face, an expression Evie had never seen with the pirate before,

“I don’t want anyone to know about this and I need ye help to hide them and well, ye’re the only person I know who can make amazing clothing so I thought that maybe ye’d be able to help us figure out a way to hide these” he explained, gesturing to the wings, one of which fluttering almost like it was waving hello to her causing Evie to giggle softly,

“Well, I’ve never made anything for Pixies before but …” the princess placed a finger on her chin as she thought before smiling wide, looking up at the pirate with a face that could bring the toughest man to their knees, “I can certainly try, I would be happy to” she said with a cheerful expression before circling Harry like a hawk observing their prey, “Hhmm, well, I’d suggest something long, something that has some room inside, we don’t want them to be too cramp now do we, we’d also need a soft material…” Evie suggested as she stopped behind him, carefully placing her fingers on the edge of his wings to move them around gently, “I’m guessing they are quite sensitive so nothing that could put long lasting harm on them, maybe a nice cotton or we could possible make the inside a soft silk so that it’s easier for your wings to slide against it …” She let go of his wings to continue walking around him before finally turning away from him, moving to his wardrobe to look over his clothes, seeing that the majority of his coats were red with a few black ones, “I think we’ll be definitely going for a mix of red and black, detachable sleeves, obviously, I think a trench coat style might be best to go for” she thought before finally closing the wardrobe, turning happily to everyone in the room, “I’ll get everything drawn up and get started on it as soon as I can” she smiled as she crossed the room to stand in front of Harry, “Don’t worry, I’ll make you look fabulous” she chuckled before quickly making her way from the room, waving goodbye to everyone as she excitedly headed to her room to start the little project, leaving everyone a little stunned and very unexpectedly happy.

Back in the room, Harry, Uma, Gil and Max stared at the door, none of them knowing what to say as they all stood with smiles on their faces for a while before Gil finally spoke up,

“Well, that went better than expected” he exclaimed, causing the others to burst out laughing.

—

Taglist

@descendantofthesparrow

[eeveedel]

I’m a huge goner for meet cutes and for awkward/shy Harry, can we have a lil snippet on when they first met?

you sure can! (from my ongoing thick alpha au) this is all cute fluff but unedited so my apologies lol 

–

Niall’s New Year’s Eve party was packed, which Louis had sort of expected, but it didn’t make it any less headache-inducing.

His friend’s house was packed with people he barely recognized, all holding drinks and congregating around ping pong tables like they were still in undergrad. Louis rubbed his temple as he looked around. Niall had really twisted his arm to get him to come out tonight, and then the host had promptly ditched him, and Louis had lost Liam and Zayn in the fray. Liam was probably to sell his new pyramid scheme supplements to some poor unsuspecting party goer, the bastard.

Louis tipped his cup towards his mouth and cursed when only a thin stream of punch and vodka met his tongue. He would need at least ten more of these to get through the night.

Louis turned, ready to go into the kitchen and get another mixed drink, and then, to top off his night, he collided straight into another body. He felt his shirt become wet a second later, and he cursed when he looked down to see an amber stain marring the white fabric.

“God, fuck!” Louis hissed, pulling the shirt away from him, “This is a new fucking shirt, watch where you’re going!”

“Jesus, I’m so, so sorry,” the person who had just crashed into him said, “I’ll try to help you clean it, I – “

“No, don’t fucking bother,” Louis spat out, “Jesus Christ, did you not – “

He looked up, ready to glare down whoever this person was, and then he felt his throat stop working.

The person in front of him was an alpha. That much was obvious from…well, just about everything about him, but also the scent Louis was now becoming very aware of.

He was also cute, was the thing, really fucking gorgeous. He had curly hair down to his shoulders, a big, concerned pair of green eyes and a sweet, round face. And he was tall. Tall enough Louis had to crane his neck a little to look at him.

He was also kind of heavy, which is something Louis only registered after he was somewhat able to process this strange alpha’s height and pretty, bright eyes. His face was round, but so were his arms, which his short sleeves seem to almost strain against, and the now-empty cup he was holding was nearly dwarfed by his big, meaty hand. He had a sizable beer gut under this grey t-shirt, and his dark jeans held tight to his big thighs.

Louis didn’t know why, exactly, but the sight of it all made his entire body heat up.

“Are you okay?” the alpha asked, and Louis blinked.

“Yeah. Uh,” Louis said, “I – I’m great.”

“Oh,” the alpha said, “You just went quiet there for a second.”

“Uh. Yeah. My bad,” Louis said, and shifted his feet. He was somewhat aware his shirt was still very wet and very stained, but his brain was elsewhere now.

He tucked his hand in one pocket and stuck out his hip, batting his lashes a bit.

“I’m really sorry,” Louis said, “I overreacted. I think I had a bit too much to drink, you know, can’t think straight.”

He hoped his general gaze and stance also indicated to the alpha that he was not straight, ever.

The alpha just nodded, still looking a bit wounded.

“I’m really, really sorry about your shirt,” he said. “I, uh, I have a shirt in my car, I think, I can get you something else to wear. It’s the least I could do.”

Part of Louis wanted this alpha to stop talking and to drag Louis into one of Niall’s spare bedrooms so they could really start the new year right. The other part of him was suddenly on fire at the thought of being able to wear one of this alpha’s big, big shirts.

“That sounds great, actually,” Louis said, and batted his eyes a couple more times, “Would you mind?”

“Yeah, I’ll go – “ the alpha said, awkwardly hooking a thumb over this shoulder, “I just have to go outside, I can come find you?”

“That sounds good,” Louis smiled brightly. He shifted his stance a bit and his brand new trainers slapped against the cuddle of cola and booze at his feet.

“Okay,” the alpha said, and then, a small, awkward smile came on his face, “And if I have trouble finding you, I should ask someone if they’ve seen…?”

“Louis,” Louis said far too quickly, “You can ask for Louis.”

“Alright,” the alpha smiled, “Uh. Shirt. I’ll – I’ll go.”

He turned and stumbled off, then, and Louis could just stare after him as he went.

He had a big ass, too.

And Louis hadn’t gotten his name.

He immediately rushed to the kitchen, where thankfully the host of the evening was slouched against the counter, drinking a Kahlua and for some reason, wearing an unbuttoned Tommy Bahama shirt with nothing underneath. He was talking to a couple other people, but as soon as Louis entered he grabbed Niall’s arm and pulled him away.

“Louis, what the hell, man – “

“Niall,” Louis hissed, “I need you to identify someone at this party for me.”  

“Did he steal your wallet?”

“No, Niall, I’m not stupid enough to bring valuables to your house,” Louis said. “Anyways. I just met an alpha. Tall. Curly hair. Grey shirt.”

“Oh, that’s Harry,” Niall said, “Liam and Zayn knew him in college and he just moved back here for work a few months ago, I think?”

“And why, dear Niall, has no one introduced me to this Harry before tonight?”

Niall narrowed his eyes.

“Are you, like, into Harry?”

“Mind your business and answer my question.”

Niall gave him a look but shrugged.

“I don’t know, I guess we never planned anything with the both of you,” Niall said, “Again, why are you asking?”

“Doesn’t matter. Thanks,” Louis said, and then turned around and started to leave the kitchen. He heard Niall laughing at him, and he tried to ignore him, but then just as he was leaving the kitchen he nearly ran into Louis again.

“Whoa, sorry,” the alpha said, and flashed him a smile, “I didn’t mean to run into you twice.”

“Oh,” Louis said, suddenly memorized by the dimple that had appeared in Harry’s round cheek, “It’s okay.”

“I had to go looking for you, someone said they saw you come into the kitchen,” Harry said, “Anyways, I got your shirt for you.”

He pulled out a folded-up ball of fabric out from under his arm and flapped it out, holding it up for Louis to see. It was a grey t-shirt with the name of a law firm emblazoned on the right breast, and had a silky tag at the top that had “3XL” printed out.

“Um, this was the only decent thing in my car,” Harry shrugged, “It’s one of my work out shirts, but I promise it’s clean.”

“That’s great,” Louis said, “I’ll, uh, go put it on. And be right back.”

He took it from Harry a little too quickly and then slipped off the upstairs bathroom, since the downstairs unit had a line backed up to the living room. As soon as he was alone he shucked off his stained shirt and tossed it in the sink, trying to put a little soap on it while he was at it. When he pulled on Harry’s shirt, gasping weakly at how strongly it smelled of him.

The shirt went nearly to Louis’s knees and the short sleeves touched his elbows. Louis tugged a bit on it, shaking his head at how ridiculous he looked. It was New Year’s and he was wearing a shirt six sizes too big for him that he had borrowed from a strange alpha, and he couldn’t stop blushing.

He weakly slapped his own cheeks, shaking his head at himself in the mirror.

“Get it together, Tomlinson,” he muttered to himself, and he ran some more water over his shirt before just leaving it in the sink.

When he came back downstairs, Harry was waiting in the same position Louis had left him, and chuckled weakly when he saw Louis.

“Sorry it’s a bit big,” he said.

“I’ve been told oversized is my look,” Louis said, which made the alpha laugh again. He extended a hand towards Louis, his smile still in place.

“I’m Harry, by the way,” he offered.

“I know,” Louis said quickly as he took Harry’s – very, very big – hand, which made the alpha lift a brow, “I mean – uh, I kind of asked Niall for your name.”

“Oh,” Harry smiled, “That’s alright. You probably wouldn’t have seen me around; I went to school with Liam – “

“Yeah, I actually hang out with Liam a lot,” Louis said.

“No way, really?” Harry laughed.

“Yeah, really rude of him to never invite me to all the get-togethers you two have been having.”

Harry chuckled again, shaking his head.

“That’s crazy,” he said, “Well, I’m, um, I’m glad we met now.”

“Me too,” Louis said softly.

They just looked at each other for a long moment, and then Harry cleared his throat.

“Um, could I maybe fix a drink for you?” he asked, “I mean that in the least sketchy way possible, I just – I want to apologize again for crashing into you.”

“Yeah, that would be great,” Louis said.

“Great,” Harry nodded, “And, um, I think Liam and Zayn are trying to start a Mario Kart tournament in the other room but no one is joining them, if you want to go hang out – “

“I’d love to,” Louis quickly agreed, “Gotta, um, support Liam’s efforts when we can.”

“Right,” Harry said, and then gave Louis another dimple-laden smile that made his chest seize up, “So, um, can I make you that drink?”

Louis bounced on his toes, trying to give Harry the brightest smile he could offer.

“You sure can.”

[zankivich]

Teacher’s Pet: A College AU - The Epilogue Part 1

a/n:  I know what you’re thinking....bitch why did this take so long? but like here my out. I started a whole other plus-size woman series, I got writer’s block, school was shit, mental health was shit, and this motherfucker is still like 15k long! so I broke her up into two parts. She’s angsty and cute and hopefully real? idk. I really hope you like. Let me know plz? K bye. 

*Six months later*

“Shawn Peter Raul we are going to be late!” You yelled.

You were late. You were so fucking late, and Karen was going to kill you. You’d only been given one job and that was to get Shawn to graduation on time and in his cap and gown. It had only taken him stepping into the shower beside you that morning to fuck that up. Woops.

“Babe, I can’t find my tie!” He called from the bedroom.

You tapped your heel impatiently against the wooden floors.

“It’s on the dresser next to your cap where I told you it was thirty minutes ago, bud. We gotta go!”

He came walking out in his black slacks and those boots of his that always clacked against the floors. His mother had asked him to wear the tie and it really was going to look beautiful against the backdrop of his floral button up. Your mans was sort of beautiful.

“What?” He asked at the smile that was clear on your face.

You shrugged pulling the tie around his neck to tie it for him.

“Nothing. You just look really good.”  

His fingers came up to touch your waist and you grinned.

“Yea?”

“You know you look good, asshole. Stop flirting with me. We’re late.”

“But you’re so pretty.” He hummed. “What are you doing later?”

“I’m going to see this concert later actually. I got tickets to an Ed Sheeran show. Hear, the opener’s supposed to be good.”

Shawn snorted. “I don’t know. I heard he’s shit. Kid’s got no stage presence.”

“Yea, but he’s kinda hot. Who cares what he sounds like?”

He swatted playfully at your ass for that one before you finally are able to get out the door.

You get to the venue just in time for Shawn to line up with the graduates and you just barely made it to his family, out of breath and sweaty. But, as long as Shawn got to fucking walk everything would be fine.

It had certainly been a hell of a rollercoaster the last few months. Shawn’s spring semester had been hectic to say the least. They had released his first single to astounding reception and everything had blown up since then. He was performing two, three, sometimes four nights out of the week and doing twelve credit hours on top of that. It was more work than either of you had been prepared for, and it definitely wasn’t easy. You snapped at each other sometimes. You got lonely when he was away, and he got lonely too. Sometimes you went weeks without seeing one another. But, he always came back to you. And every time you heard the door open, his keys in the bowl, the tapping of his boots against the hardwood floors, you remembered that it was all worth it. You grew closer because of it, and the fact that you came out of it on the otherside was just a testament to how much both of you were willing to do whatever it took to stick together.

Graduation day was a huge affair for the Mendes family and it was impossible not to get swept up in their energy. They were excited to watch Shawn graduate, and you had the biggest sense of pride as well. After all you had been the one to watch him come home from shows at two in the morning just to write a paper for class the next day. You had sat with him when his anxiety had been at its peak and he hadn’t been able to breathe for minutes or hours at a time. You were there for every low but you were also there for every high. The first time he’d met Ed Sheeran and Andrew had told him that he would be his opener for the North American leg: fifty shows of getting up and playing for an audience every night. You were there when his single had debuted in the top 10 on billboard, and Teddy and he had popped champagne in the middle of one of the practice rooms on campus. You got to watch him live his dream and it was the most beautiful thing in the world for you.

He walked across the stage all overly long limbs and that adorable fucking goofy smile with a diploma in hand. It’s everything you ever wanted for him and you’re so proud that maybe you somehow smudge your eyeliner. It definitely isn’t by crying though, no sirree. Not at all.

Aaliyah catches a picture of Shawn lifting you up in his arms to kiss you just minutes after the ceremony ended and it might just be your favorite picture ever.

There’s a big, huge dinner with Shawn and all of his friends to celebrate their achievement. The excitement of the day reminds you of when you finished undergrad and the feelings that came with that. It really was an incredible achievement and watching the pride of his family and friends as they all celebrated him felt better than good. You just loved knowing that he had done it. He’d gotten the degree and the dream and he was going to go on to have everything he ever wanted. Your love for him meant that watching him get it all filled you with a joy unlike any other. Because you’d never meant anyone that deserved happiness like Shawn did.

You’re sitting at one of the long banquet like tables engrossed in a conversation with Aaliyah about boys, when he comes for you. He had a corona in his hand which he placed beside your much more sophisticated Old Fashioned and his fingertips were icy where they touched gently at your neck.

“Can I steal her away for a second?” He smiled at his sister.

She nodded excitedly shooing each of you  away with both her hands as Shawn tugged you to the dance floor. He wrapped his arms perfectly around your shoulders not even giving you a chance to do anything but sway awkwardly back and forth. But that was the only kind of dancing you wanted to do anyway.

“Hi.” He whispered peering down at you with nothing short but adoration.

You wrapped your arms around his waist in return smiling up at him with similar sentiments.

“Hi.”

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in a very long time. I don’t know if I can let you graduate again if it means all these festivities will keep you away from me.”

You snorted. “You’ll be happy to know that graduate degrees are a lot less of a to-do. Besides the fact that we drove here together, and I saw you thirty minutes ago.”

“Sure, babe, but I had to sit with all those other people for like three hours. And then my mum and my dad made me take more pictures than that photoshoot I did last month. I didn’t even want this party. I’d much rather be cuddled up at home with you.”

“That’s actually really sweet. We’re together now though. Isn’t that what matters?”

He rolled his eyes playfully pulling you closer against his chest so that your eyes no longer met.

“I guess.” He sighed. “Look, I have something I wanted to talk to you about.”

You stilled under his arms, both of you no longer moving on the dance floor.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart. I actually talked to Andrew last week. With how well the single has been doing. And the youtube endorsement and the shows with Ed. I’m gonna be able to pay off my parents debt for my college.”

“Babe! That’s incredible. I know how much taking care of them means to you.”

You tried to pull back to look at him, but his arms only tightened around you.

“You’re right. It means a lot to me. But, I also found a place. It’s uh--it’s close enough for you to drive to school every day and close enough for me to get to the studio or anywhere else I might need to be. It’s not in LA or anything like that. It’s just barely bigger than the place you have now but...it’d be ours. If that...if you wanted that.”

Your heart stopped. Your feet stopped. Everything came to a crashing halt. His arms which has been holding you captive broke easily when you tugged away. Shawn could easily take you with brute strength but the knowledge that you wanted him to let you go was all that he ever needed to be stopped. The two of you had talked about moving in together since that day in the beach. It had seemed incredibly unrealistic at the time, mostly because you were two broke college students with no way in hell to afford a Californian apartment. But, that hadn’t stopped you from fantasizing, from whispering to each other in the bed that you shared at night. It just never looked like it would actually happen. For Shawn to surprise you with it on his own graduation day was absolutely ridiculous, and absolutely the kind of thing he would do. And maybe that’s why you were so incredibly in love with him.

“I’ll get a job. I can use my stipend to chip in with rent, but if I work at a bar or something on the weekends? I can help even more.” You smiled.

He frowned at you. “What? Why would you get a job at a bar when you should be focusing on school? Y/n I’m not asking you to pay anything here. I just...I just wanna live with you.”

You could see the softness that seemed to radiate from your gentle giant of a boyfriend. He was always fairytales and roses and nothing else. Of course he’d never ask you to pay anything. But, surely he had to know you and know that you’d never live with him and not hold up your end of the bargain.

“I want to live with you too, Shawn. So, so much. I’m not doing it for free though.” You assured him.

He brought his hands up to cup your face, massive hands covering the majority of your face as he pressed a kiss to your nose and forehead.

“I love you.” He mumbled. “Let’s talk about the details later. Will you move in with me? That’s all that matters right now.”

You knew he’d try to talk you out of it with all of his might. You knew you’d have to stand firm,and that eventually you’d get your way. But every now and again fairytales and roses weren’t such a bad thing. If anything he’d taught you that.

“Yea. Yea, I’ll move in with you.”

“Yea?!” He grinned wrapping you up in his arms again.

“Yea!”

That night you watch him live out his dream in the most tangible way imaginable. On stage in front of twenty thousand people. And you can’t help but remember that night at the bar for the first time. When he just wanted to impress you with his guitar and his words. And he had. Watching him made you stop, made you take notice of every twitch of muscles and every note that came from his lips. You had two favorite Shawns. One was in the mornings. The days when he had decided not to go to gym and you somehow woke up before him. His curls would be wild and matted in some places and the pillow always left red lines on his cheeks. He was beautiful. The other though, was on the stage. His button up would be sweaty and sticky on his back and his eyes would be so wild and bright, so much brighter than the lights even. It never seemed to matter if it was three or three thousand, but every time someone sings the songs back at him he just exudes a happiness unlike anything you’d ever experienced. You know that the stage was his home in the way that he was home for you. And there’s nothing you love more than getting to watch him have that.

It’s only a thirty minute set but when he comes off stage that night he’s alive and full to the brim with energy. He hugs his mum and his dad and his little sister, but when he gets to you he kisses you like it’s maybe the last time he’ll ever see you. And he wraps you up in his arms and doesn’t let you pull alway, not even for a second. It’s like something about his love for the stage transfers to you, and if that’s not the biggest fucking compliment you’re not sure what is.

“Come with me.” He whispered.

He’d barely changed out of his shirt from the set, hadn’t cooled down or anything, before he tugged you into the crowd with everyone else. One second he’s the focal point for everyone in the arena and the next you’re just fans, you’re just people in the crowd enjoying the music. And it’s beautiful and wonderful and you completely forget that your boyfriend is Shawn Mendes, that that means something now. He’s just yours and you don’t have to share him when you’re jumping around like dumbasses to your favorite songs. It feels so good.

But then Ed’s strumming his guitar and asking people to put their phones in the sky, and Shawn’s wraps his arms around your waist from behind.

“I don’t usually dedicate this song to anyone, but a mate of mine asked, and I couldn’t refuse. So, y/n, wherever you are; this one's for you.”

The beginning chords of Perfect begin to play, but how could you ever focus on that through the tears?

“I can’t believe you!” You huffed spinning in his arms to face you.

His palms came up to hold your face in his hands and his lips touched your forehead, touched your lips, touched your ear.

“I wanted you to know that no one has ever loved anyone the way that I love you. This is the only way I knew how!”

And it hits you then in a way that it never has before. It’s not about the fact that your boyfriend got Ed Sheeran to dedicate a love song to you. It’s the inability to say what something is. You use similes and metaphors to try and describe feelings and it never really does it justice. But music, when it is at its most raw and it’s most guttural evokes love and pain and passion in a way that nothing else can. You know his love in that moment because the melodies are recreating it within you. Like it travels into your ear and down into your heart and settles there, nestles warm and soft, forever. And you love him just the same. In a way that consumes a piece of you until it is no longer your own, until it belongs to him as he belongs to you.

He holds you against his chest and he spins you around and he sings the words back into your ear over the loud expanse of the crowd. No one has ever loved anyone the way that you love each other. It’s yours. To have and to hold and to treasure. So you do.

****

*Three years later*

It’s a hard day. It’s been a hard month. A hard year in truth and you’re not sure what to do with it all. Shawn’s been on tour most of the year. His first headlining U.S tour had turned into a European tour had turned into a world tour. But, he was happy and so you were happy. In all honesty you had learned how complex emotions could be in your relationship with Shawn. Because you were happy for him. That was fact. You felt it sincerely and you knew in your bones that it wasn’t a lie. But, you were also sad when he was away. And he’d been away for so long that you were afraid you might forget the sound of his laugh, or the feel of his curls between your fingers. You felt the sadness and the fear and….and anger. There was an anger there too. At him? At yourself? At every single person who got to file into a room every night and see your boyfriend before you did?

But none of that was meant to matter that day. You were being honored with an award that night for your research. It was a really big deal because there grant money involved and you were the youngest person to ever win the award. There was a banquet And in your field there was rarely ever enough money for there to be a banquet. And Shawn was going to come. Shawn had promised he would come.

You’re on your way to get your hair done for the event when the call comes in.

“Babe!” You squeaked as the speaker phone kicked in. “I am on my way to the hair salon as we speak. Gotta try and look good if I’m gonna be stood next to you huh? Did you get your suit?”

“H--Hey sweetheart, listen I uh--”

“No. No. Shawn please, no.” You sighed pulling to a stop at the red light.

You hit weakly at the steering wheel in protest.

“I’m so sorry. Listen I--I’m so sorry. Andrew scheduled a last minute interview and the flights just aren’t lining up. I couldn’t say no.”

You chuckled. “Couldn’t say no. All I’ve heard in the last six months is no, but god forbid Andrew hear the word no.”

“Y/n, that’s not fair. You know how much this all means to me.”

“Yea, no, of course I do. I know how much everything means to you, Shawn, but what about me? Don’t I--do I pull any weight at all?”

The light turns green and your foot stutters on the gas like your lip stutters as the tears start to build again. There’d been an attempt to use “I feel” statements lately. It was your therapists idea. The idea that you should be sharing how you feel instead of stifling it as was usually your initial instinct. The problem became when you were overcome with emotion, the last thing you wanted to do was follow that stupid fucking exceriese.

“Of course you do. Do you wanna tell me what you’re feeling right now?”

Ugh.

“I feel like my boyfriend is an asshole. I feel like there is a line of fifty thousand people in front of me to visit who is supposed to be the love of my life. And everytime I think I’ve got my ticket? Every time I think I’m at least somewhere in the line of people in your life? Someone else just gets to jump in front because they’re more important.” You huffed as a tear ran angrily down your cheek. “This night meant so much to me. All I wanted was for you to be there. It’s the only thing I wanted.”

“Baby I--”

You don't think you can stand to hear him say sorry again, don’t think your fucking heart could take it. So, you hang up and you sit in the parking lot of your salon for fifteen minutes bawling your eyes out before you go and get your hair done because the world doesn’t stop spinning because your boyfriend’s a jackass. Which he is.

You get all dolled up that night in this beautiful black gown with a dangerously high knee slit . It was supposed to make you feel powerful, ethereal, beautiful. And somehow not having Shawn there just fucks all of that up. You just wanted him to be proud of you, wanted him to share in these important moments of your life the way that you had been there for every single one of his. It hurts worse than you knew what to do with. You can’t put makeup on that night because every few minutes you have to blink angrily to keep the tears at bay. The worst part is remembering how much Shawn loved you without it, and knowing that if he would’ve showed up he would’ve told you how beautiful you were. But, he wasn’t.

The ceremony is beautiful. You’re surrounded by the most intelligent people in your field and it makes you appreciate the work that you all are doing, validates that you’re not alone in that work. You’re sat a table with people who will probably go on to save the world, if it isn’t already too badly damaged, and that means something to you. Half way through the night your phone vibrates in the clutch you’d gotten to match your dress, which literally only fit your phone in it. It’s Shawn. Usually you would’ve excused yourself from whatever was going on to talk to Shawn. Your moments with him could often times feel fleeting and small. But tonight wasn’t about him for once. It was about you. And tonight you got to be the one who was too busy. If only for tonight.

You’re sitting at the bar sipping on whiskey on the rocks because you’re not driving home and they’ve already given you the award so who cares if you get a little tipsy when he comes up. He’s maybe just under six feet and his hair is brown and neatly trimmed though the shade is much too dark for your liking. He’s got wild green eyes and it pairs lovely with the darkness of his suit which happens to pair lovely with the darkness of your dress. Before you even blinked he’s sitting beside you and turning those green eyes on you. You noticed that his eyes were kind, and that you liked that.

“Hi.” He murmured nodding his head towards the glass in your hand. “Scotch?”

You grinned slightly. “Whiskey.”

“Ah, my kind of woman. Can I have whatever she’s having?” He asked the waiter.

You’d already had one so your head is feeling a little fluttery. You leaned your chin against your palm so you could see him better.

“You received an award for your work with Trans sexworkers in Atlanta right?”

“Yea, actually. Although most of the credit should go to my research partner Clara. Me being a cis-het male, who’s white-passing doesn’t exactly harber a connection with folks who have been victimized from people who look like me. I just was really fascinate by the topic and wanted to help in whatever way that I could.”

You nodded. “Yea, no I understand. The hardest thing is wanting to do work that elevates untold stories, but recognizing your privilege is deeply rooted in their oppression. Sometimes you just have to bow out. At least that’s what I think. But, uh I did my thesis for my masters on mental health and trans women. Most of my research ended up being tailored to Black women and women of color in LA because I was close and they was a bigger community of folks. I was really fascinated when I read your study.”

“Well thank you that means a lot coming from you. You’re kind of like the belle of the ball here.”

You snorted. Actually snorted. Ugh.

“I highly doubt that. I’ve only been alive a fraction of the time some people around here having been making meaningful impacts on their communities.”

“And yet you were given the most prestigious honor of the night.”

“Hmmm… You’ve got me there. Guess I’m kind of a badass.” You joked bringing your drink up to your lips.

You watched his eyes dip down to your mouth and perhaps you began to catch on that this wasn’t simply about your work.

The waiter placed his drink in front of him and he moved to take a sip only to wince as the alcohol burned his throat.

“Jesus. You are a badass.” He coughed.

“People tend to underestimate a woman’s ability to drink men under the table. Your shitty beer has nothing on my long islands. Assuming of course that we’re sticking to very gendered understandings of drinking, which I guess if my drink is anything to go off of, we’re not.”

He smiled at you and it made you un-cross and re-cross your legs. You hadn’t been smiled at like that in a long time.

“I never got the chance to introduce myself officially. I’m Jaden.”

He asked you more about what you were working on at the time. He offered suggestions for parameters to meet the needs of the communities you were working with. You talked about politics for a little while, and about the latest celebrity male that had been ostracized from the community for sexual assault or rape or persuasion or some other awful thing. It felt good to have someone to talk to, someone who understood. And sitting there, you could see it. You see how simple of a life it would have been to be with someone like him. Someone who’s work aligned with your own, someone who’s passions in life were similar. It would easier, for sure.

But, the second he’d stepped up to that bar the only thing your mind had registered was that he wasn’t Shawn. His hair color was off. He had neatly trimmed facial hair that thankfully Shawn didn’t.  His eyes weren’t the perfect shade of brown. And he would never cause the same excitement of Shawn sending you a news article about a terrible thing going on in the world, and knowing that his ability to critique and to learn had started with an intro to feminism course those few years ago. Shawn wasn’t an expert on all things social justice, but he cared because you did, and he made the effort to be plugged into your world. Well, except for tonight. And the last couple of months. Why’d you have to go and fuck up now?

“So uh...if you don’t mind me asking, there was a lot of talk about your boyfriend showing up here tonight.” Jaden finally murmured.

You hummed. “Really? Is that a thing that you all talk about?”

“Not me necessarily, but even human rights activists like a little gossip. I think rock-star heart throb makes that list.”

“At least you’re honest, I suppose.”

He smirked. “And you’re deflecting.”

“You never asked me a question.”

“Fair. Why isn’t your boyfriend here with the most beautiful woman in the room?”

You bit your lip eyes straining to your glass.

“I--I’m not sure.”

You don’t know why you said that. You knew Shawn had said there was press. There were interviews. There were things that needed his attention. You just couldn’t quite figure out why you weren’t one of them. What was wrong with you?

“I mean….I should--I should go.”

His hand reached out to touch your bare knee stilling you into silence. You hadn’t been touched by anyone who wasn’t Shawn in years.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out I just...You’re gorgeous. You’re incredibly intelligent, one of the smartest people in this room. The way you talked about your work tonight on that stage told me that your heart is absolutely massive. I’m struggling to understand a world where you’re not appreciated to the fullest degree. You gotta know you deserve that.”

His touch turned to fire on your skin. The fact that no one besides Shawn had touched you had been purposeful, and this, this felt wrong. He wasn’t yours and you weren’t his and more than that you didn’t want to be. So, you stood up and smoothed out your dress before downing the rest of your drink. You hoped that you looked graceful and elegant despite feeling like absolute shit inside. You wondered how long you’d feel like absolute shit inside.

“You have a nice night, Jaden.”

The driver waits outside for you and stumbling into the back seat slightly past tipsy and sad is not a good luck. You just wanted your dumb boyfriend to show up. That’s all that you had asked for. And now some dumbass had hit on you and tried to make you feel special and it’s not that that’s what you wanted at all. You didn’t want anyone to make you feel special, you wanted Shawn to be the one to do it. You just wanted him.

The tears began to well up again and before you knew it you were croaking at your driver to head for the nearest place that offered burgers.

“Ma’am that’s not really within my purview.”

You sniffled. “P--Please? I’ll pay whatever overtime there is.”

He looked at you in the mirror and maybe he pitied you a little bit because eventually you wind up parked outside your apartment barefoot with a cheeseburger in one hand and your fancy glass award in the other. The driver helps you to your door because whiskey is a hell of a drink and you spend some time fumbling with your keys before bursting through the door. You tip him double. You’re kind of a shit show; he deserves it.

You’re still munching on your cheeseburger and tripping over the trane of your dress when you stumble upon the flowers and the candles. In all honesty the alcohol is talking and it doesn’t really register in the way that it does. His bags are still on the ground by the door and the deeper you walk into the apartment the more his smell starts to linger in the air. You’d always found that so interesting. Shawn could be in Tokyo or Switzerland or Mexico, but every time he came home he still smelled like him. You loved that.

He was sitting at the kitchen table with a cupcake in front of him when you arrived. He turned to look at you and you could tell he hadn’t slept or shaved. There were bags beneath his eyes and a scruff on his chin. His hair was messy like he’d been tugging on it. But, he smiled when he saw you, eyes gentle and searching. This was home. Right here with him. Even an intoxicated you knew that.

“W--What are you doing here?”

“I changed the in-person interview to a phone interview. I tried to change my flight earlier to get here in time, I swear to you I did, but...this was the best I could do.” He sighed stepping heasistantly closer to you. “You look so beautiful in that dress, baby.”

Your eyes fluttered down to the ground shifting your weight back and forth on your ankles. The tears were coming again.

“Thanks.” You mumbled blinking down at your toes. “What’s with all the flowers and candles?”

He’s a little closer now. He’s trying to make eye contact with you, but he won’t reach out and touch unless you give him permission. You know that about him.

“I just wanted to show you that I care, that I’m here for you like you’re there for me. I--I wanted to apologize too, for ever making you feel like that wasn’t the case. You have every right to be angry with me. I guess I just wanted to try and make it up to you somehow.”

You don’t say anything back and he takes another step forward until your standing right in front of each other. The burger is long forgotten in your hand and the award feels even heavier in your grasp. He looks a little desperate in his eyes, an expression you don’t see from Shawn very often. He’s nervous. You wonder a little what he sees on your face that makes him feel this way.

“Babe,” His voice cracks around the word. “Y/n. Please, won’t you look at me?”

You sniffle and struggle to tilt your head up at him, but even then you can’t look him in the eye.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen at the dinner?”

A laugh burst past your lips and you wish you knew where the hell it came from.

“Are you drunk?”

He must have smelled the whiskey.

“Maybe.” you shrugged. “Still working on it though.”

You take another bite of the burger and shuffle past Shawn to get to the liquor cabinet in the kitchen. You know he’s directly behind you in the way your body knows when he settles into the bed at night behind you. It’s a sixth sense of some kind.

“Hey can we--can we just talk, please? Tell me what’s going through your head right now.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” You mumbled.

“Why? You’re freaking me out, y/n. Just talk to me.”

You don’t raise your voices at each other. It’s a thing that you have. You used to watch your dad yell at your mom when you were a little kid, and truthfully just watched men in various stages of anger. It always made you flinch. You must have confessed it once during a night with a little too much to drink, or a night when he’s made you feel so happy you forgot what a secret even was. He’d never really, intentionally raised his voice before, but after that night he’d purposely kept his voice calm in even the angstiest of times with you. Right now his voice is edging up an octave. It’s not yelling, doesn’t even make you flinch, but you notice that he’s not a hundred percent composed.

You settle your palms against the kitchen counter trying to tether yourself to the room, to the moment. Usually Shawn always did that for you, but right now you’ve never felt more away.

“There was a guy tonight.”

It slips out. It’s like word vomit. Everything you’re thinking is moving much faster than your mouth is capable of, and the whiskey acts as a truth serum to your innermost thoughts. No amount of alcohol in the world could ever make you forget the look on his face when you said it though, the way his mouth just sort of popped open. His palm comes to rest over his heart like maybe just that alone was enough to break him. And suddenly you’re hurting too. You’re hurting more than him missing any dumb banquet could ever accomplish because this is Shawn’s pain. Shawn’s pain always hurts more.

“What does that mean? What do you--what happened?”

“Nothing. Nothing happened. I was just sitting at the bar drinking and he sat down. He told me he loved my work. H--He did research with Trans sex-workers in Atlanta and we talked about that. He’s pro prison abolition. He studied anthropology and political science in undergrad and got his PhD in critical race theory. And he--”

“The point, y/n. Get to the point. So he’s perfect for you is that what you’re trying to tell me? He’s smarter than me, he cares more about human rights, he’s dedicated his life to the same work that you do. What are you saying to me right now?”

He’s freaking out. You’re freaking out.

“Maybe? Yea, maybe he’d be better for me.”

He blinks, shock clear on his face. He thumbs at his lip and those are tears in his eyes. A curl falls down to his forehead, but you know that it’s not your place to fix it right now. Don’t know how you can fix any of it.

“You don’t mean that.”

A tear hits your bottom lip and it shocks you into speech.

“I do. I really do. He’d be a lot better for me. H--He said I was the most beautiful woman in the room tonight.” Your lip trembled, the tears flowing freely now.

He reaches for you palms up, touching gently at the fabric of your dress, but you pull yourself back more firmly against the counter. You’ve gotta get it out while you can and he can’t be touching you or you’ll just fall apart in his hands. You know yourself too well.

“Y--You are beautiful. When have I ever told you you’re not beautiful? Y/n, I love you with all of my heart, why are you doing this?”

“Could you just shut the fuck up for two seconds?!” You snapped fingers pulling anxiously at your hair.

There’s a tear drop hanging off the edge of his chin that your fingers itch to wipe away, but you can’t. Not yet.

“I know my own worth okay? I know my own worth and I know what I deserve and this isn’t it. And it is not because of your career. I--I love what you do, and it makes me so fucking happy to watch you live your dream. I don’t resent your music or your fans or the fame. I can deal with all of it, I swear I can. What I can’t deal with is coming last all of the time. It’s a show and then it’s a music video, an award show, a studio run, and now an interview? The biggest moment of my career and you can’t make it because of an interview?”

“B--But I’m here right now! I came as soon as I could! I am doing my best.”

“Yea? You’re telling me that the night you won your first grammy, if I had skipped it to meet with a client that would have been okay with you?”

He pauses and you know it makes more sense than anything else to him. That situating things in his world will help him see.

“Look none of that matters. None of it matters. Because I’ve never loved anyone the way that I love you.”

He wipes angrily at his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffles.

“What?”

“That guy at the bar? He came up to me and all that I could think about...was you. And how he wasn’t you. And how much all I wanted was for you to come home. Even though I’d spent all afternoon crying over you, I still want you. I would rather have the worst of you than the best of someone else. And that’s fucked up. And I hate that. But, it’s true.”

“So you didn’t--You’re not leaving me?”

“No. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I just want you to want to care about me, I guess. That’s all I ever wanted.”

When he reaches for you this time you let him. When he wraps his arms around you and tucks you under his chin it’s instant warmth, instant safety, and instant healing. Really all it takes is for him to be present to soothe you, and that’s all you’d been trying to say from the beginning.

Neither of you talk that night. You’re too busy holding each other in bed. He’s still in his jeans and t-shirt from the plane and you don’t even take your dress off. It’s a little hard to remember all of the pain when you’re re-familiarizing yourself with his scent. When his fingers are in your hair or drawing shapes along your spine. You know that it’s late and that you should definitely be asleep but you fight it every step of the way because finally he’s here with you and you’re not ready to give that up yet. And with your head perched against his chest listening to the rhythm of his heart and the sound of his breath, you know that he isn’t either. Somehow though, even after the different time zones and the flights, he’s going to out last you and you both know it. The last thing you remember is his lips touching your ear.

“Go to sleep. I swear to you I’ll be here when you wake up.”

His arms tightened around you and that was all it took.

When you wake up it’s because the sun is lighting up the room again. There are blown out candles everywhere and more rose petals on the bed. A headache blooms behind your eyelids and you almost forget everything that happened the night before. But when your eyes open Shawn’s still sitting there against the headboard, arms and legs crossed, like he hadn’t moved all night.

“Did you sleep?” You croaked, voice still tired from the booze and crying.

He shook his head softly. “Couldn’t.”

It takes a little bit for you to sit up. You’re body already feels old and you’re not even thirty yet as you hunch yourself into a sitting position on your knees. Your dress bunches around your thighs and the slit comes to rest dangerously high, your lace underwear sticking slightly out. In a simpler world that would’ve been Shawn’s focus. But you’re not there yet.

Shawn’s not looking at you when he speaks initially. It’s quiet, no movement in the room except for the dust motes twirling in the air. And even when he speaks the room still feels too still.

“I spent all night trying to figure out what to do.” He started. “I thought about...about what it would feel like to let you go? If that guy was truly better for you.”

You sighed. “Shawn he was just some random guy at the bar. It didn’t mean anything.”

“But it did, didn’t it? It’s not the guy, it’s about what he can offer you. What any other normal guy could offer you that I’m not. And if I loved you, if I really loved you wouldn't I give you that? Shouldn’t my main priority be to make you happy?”

He’s scaring you now. And maybe you deserve it. Maybe he’s been waiting all this time to call it quits to decide that it’s not worth it to try and meld your lives together anymore.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m not as good of a person as I thought I was. Because I can’t give you up. I don’t--I don’t want to give you up. I love you more than anyone I’ve ever loved. I can’t even imagine my life not intertwined with yours.

“Last night was the worst night of my life. To know that I haven’t shown you the love that you deserve kills me. Loving you is all I’ve ever wanted. And I’m not even doing it right.” He sighed finally turning to look at you with tears in his eyes. “Y/n I’m so sorry. I can’t even begin to...I just want to deserve you.”

Your minds must be in sync because you both reach for each other at the same time. There’s crying and you’re both trying to hold each other’s faces and wipe away tears at the same time. It’s ridiculous and sappy but it’s so fucking nourishing .

“I love you.” He whimpered against your mouth. “I’m so sorry. I’m gonna make it better, I promise.”

He starts with breakfast in the kitchen. You're both still in clothes from the night before. And while your eating his scrambled eggs and toast you hear him sit in the living room and talk to Andrew for over thirty minutes to change his schedule around. You don’t realize that’s what he’s doing until you start hearing the “no’s” over and over again. When he comes back to you he nuzzles his head against yours kissing crumbs away from your lips.

“I talked to Andrew.” He explained. “I’m gonna take a few weeks off instead of promo between legs. And when the tour is finished we’re gonna sit down and re-evaluate my schedule. And I--I’d like you to be there if you want. Maybe you can bring your schedule and we can coordinate times to just be together?”

It was such a drastic shift that you just sort of stared at him for a minute, lips parted, eyes wide.

“Just us?”

He reaches for your fingers and brings them to his lips.

“Yea. Just us. I was actually gonna ask if you might want to go on a trip with me.”

“A trip to where?”

“I uh I hadn’t actually gotten that far, but I figured we could pick together.” He smiled. “Just wanna be with you for a little while.”

“Shawn,” You sighed. “You don’t have to do all of this. I don’t need the world alright? I just need you. It’s all I ever wanted.”

“Yea well, what if I wanna give you both?”

He pecked quickly at your lips and down to the crook of your neck.

“The only reason I should ever make you cry should be from cumming so hard it brings tears to your eyes. I’ve got a lot of loss time to make up for, but I’d really like to try if you’ll let me.”

You peek over at him and it’s just as well. He really is the devil in the body of a god. It’s so fucking rude.

“Yea well I’m not gonna say no to that so just fucking take me already.”

And take you he did.

TBC

taglist: @shawnieeeeboy

[yungfuckfacemcgee]

After many many months I FINALLY finished this Westallen fanfic that has now morphed into a 74,500 word behemoth

It’s called Everything in Existence. It’s a no powers, meet-cute AU that is basically just the novelized movie I’m waiting for Netflix to cast Candice Patton in. Here is the first chapter (I’m gonna post it on AO3) I hope you like it because I like it and this is the first big, real-ish thing I’ve written and I am proud.

Chapter 1

“…so, I guess, what I’m trying to say is it’s not you, it’s me. And I know people say this all the time, but, I really hope we can stay friends.” 

“Are you serious, Iris?” 

Okay, so maybe she shouldn’t have done this while they were lying in bed together after another night of sub-par sex. But Iris West couldn’t take it anymore: every second of their “relationship” felt like a knife scraping a dinner plate. At the time, she thought it made sense to finally agree to be exclusive with Scott after a month of casual post-work hookups. Their relationship made sense on paper. They were the two hot, young, Black reporters in the office. He was good looking, smart, nice, and he was almost as good at his job as she was at hers. It was logical. But the longer they stayed together, the clearer her image of Scott became. What she initially thought was kindness turned out to be charm; she could see it in the way he would suck up to their editors or all of his patronizing interactions with the new hires. On more than one occasion she caught him checking himself out in the mirror; looking back on it Scott never looked at her with the same appreciation. And she could’ve set all of that aside, she really could’ve, if he hadn’t fucked with her at work. He took her idea for a new feature to their misogynistic, asshole of a boss. Scott got his ticket to the office's inner circle and left Iris behind writing listicles with 21-year-old interns fresh out of undergrad. 

He was staring at her expectantly, apparently waiting for an answer. 

“Yeah I am, Scott,” she said. “This isn’t working for me anymore.” 

“Wow” he scoffed, offended. He started getting out of bed and redressing, angrily pulling on his raw denim jeans. 

“You know everyone at the office always said you were kind of a bitch but I saw past that.” “Excuse me?” Iris asked, her eyebrows shooting up in shock. Any semblance of Scott’s nice guy act evaporated as soon as his feet hit the floor. She sat up in her bed, watching as he collected the few belongings he had in her apartment, stuffing them into his monogrammed leather overnight bag. Even though they’d been together for nearly half a year Scott never left more than a stick of deodorant or an extra pair of socks at her place. Truthfully, Iris never wanted him to.

“Wasted all my time giving you this ‘exclusive’ shit,” he muttered to himself as he took his watch from the nightstand. “You’re not the only hot girl who wanted me, you know. I had so many opportunities, sweetheart. Okay? I could’ve been sleeping with white women.” Who even says that? “Get the fuck out of my apartment, Scott!” Iris yelled as he flung open her bedroom door. She got up to follow him through the living room, “and you know what? I take it back! I DON’T want to stay friends!” And with that she slammed the door.

“Morning sunshine.” “Fuck!” Iris grabbed her chest. She hadn’t noticed her roommate, Linda, sitting in the kitchen while she was chasing Scott out. 

“So I take it you finally gave Scott ‘the talk’?” Linda asked over her morning paper. 

The two girls had met Linda’s first night living in the city, through a mutual friend who invited a group of them out to a bar with fifty cent jello shots. Iris left early without saying goodbye, feeling a blackout coming on. At 4 a.m. a wasted Linda was pounding on her door, saying “I wanted to make sure you made it home” before pushing past her, into her shoebox of an apartment, throwing up blue into her toilet, and passing out on her bed. They’d been best friends ever since. 

“Mmmhhhh,” Iris moaned in the affirmative as she flopped face first on to their old couch. “Sorry, honey. At least you don’t have to deal with that dickhead anymore. You know I never liked him.” For as long as they’d known each other, it felt as though Linda was constantly saying I told you so. It occasionally ignited standoffs that never lasted more than a couple days, and more often than not got resolved with apology tequila and kitchen karaoke. 

Iris peeled herself off the couch and straightened out her disheveled hair. 

“You’re right. He’s a dick. And I’m glad to be done with him.” She sat for a second, mulling it over before forcefully flopping back down. “But now I have to see him at work on Mondayyyyy. Lindaaaaa. What am I gonna do?” “Hon,” Linda said, sitting on the couch. Iris went boneless, half her body slid to the floor. “Iris, listen to me” Linda grabbed her by the shoulders, “you’re gonna go into your room. You’re gonna clean yourself up and get dressed.” Iris leaned into her friend, starting to feel comforted as Linda smoothed down her hair. “And then you and I are gonna go to trap-yoga.” “What?!” Iris pulled away to look at the traitor. “Exercise is not what I need right now, Lin! My heart is broken! I need to wallow and eat junk food and stay on the couch.” She shot puppy dog eyes at her friend. “No bitch. You didn’t even like Scott!” Linda exclaimed. Iris cringed at that, but she knew that Linda was right. Screaming at him now was the most emotion she ever felt in that relationship. Go figure. “Iris, you need to get up and move. You wasted five and a half months on that jerk for what? Some mediocre sex?” 

“It wasn’t that bad” Iris said. “Girl. I share a wall with you. All I ever heard was Scott grunting and hyping himself up.” “Dude!”

“What was the longest it ever lasted? Five minutes?”

“I–” Iris started but shut her mouth, having to agree with Linda, and no longer feeling the need to defend Scott.

“That’s what I thought. So go get your little yoga pants on, we’re leaving in 20.”

——

Two hours later, Iris was splayed out on the floor of a dance studio in Midtown, trying to catch her breath while the rest of the class went on with their Saturdays. She tries to make it to the gym a couple times a week (if she were being honest with herself it was more like a couple times a month) but that was just absurd. She could barely touch her toes on a good day, how could she be expected to add dancing to that? At least the music was good. 

“What…the…fuck” Iris panted to Linda as she came to sit beside her with two bottles of water and a towel. Linda, of course, had barely broken a sweat so the towel was for Iris. 

“A couple times there Mari and I thought you were gonna throw up,” she replied, pulling Iris up into a sitting position.

Their mutual friend, Mariana taught the class. Mari (as her friends called her) was  a curvy woman with a blonde afro. Part time trainer, part time back up dancer, she had aspirations of becoming the next Rosie Perez. Linda met her a while back taking one of her other dance/exercise classes and decided the three of them had to be friends. The decision was cemented the first time the trio went out and all ended up dancing on tables and laughing until they couldn’t breathe. 

Mari finished talking to one of her clients (a middle aged white woman in a coordinated Lululemon outfit) with a fake smile that immediately dropped as she came to sit with the girls. 

“Ay díos, this woman always wanting to talk to me about some new diet and her son’s gluten intolerance. Christ!” she sat with a huff. “Lin, you looked great. Iris…at least you didn’t throw up.” She flashed a sympathetic smile. 

“Okay,” Linda said redirecting the conversation, “phase one of Mission: Iris Reclaims Her Time in which she sweats out her anger and does her annual workout—” 

“Hey!”

“—complete. On to phase two: we’re all going out tonight.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that guys.” It was only 2pm and Iris was already sweaty and exhausted, she was pretty much done for the day.

“Iris, mama, we’re taking you out!” Mari interrupted, in an aggressively friendly tone. “And not to one of our usual places, we’re getting on the train and we are going downtown–”

Iris let out a groan. 

“ –and you have absolutely no say in the matter” Linda finished.

“But—” Iris tried.

“Dude, you need to go celebrate your freedom! It’s been half a year! Haven’t you already wasted enough of your time doing nothing?” Linda and Mari watched as she contemplated their words.

If it were anyone else Iris would have told them to fuck off and leave her alone, but these were her girls; she trusted their judgment the majority of the time. Besides she knew from experience that they wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Okay fine.” She gave in. “But you two are buying my drinks all night.” 

“Yes!” Linda rejoiced, “This is going to be the best night ever!” 

——

  “This is the worst night ever” Linda sighed. 

Linda and Iris met up with Mari at some swanky club on the Lower East Side after a pregame at their apartment. Apparently, Mari met a couple guys in line who gave her a few pulls from their flask. When they finally managed to get to the front she was a shade past too drunk, falling off her ridiculously tall heels she exclusively wore for clubbing. Iris and Linda loved the girl, but this wasn’t the first time (and it certainly wouldn’t be the last) that they would have to play party mom. They’d hold it against her but every time it happened she was genuinely remorseful — besides she did her fair share of emotionally/physically/spiritually-responsible friend duties so no one was in debt to anyone as far as they could see. They consoled Mari, assuring her that she hadn’t ruined the night, and put her in a cab across the bridge back to her roommate who, by this point, knew the drill. 

It started to rain by the time they successfully got her in the car and tipped the driver extra to make sure she got home safely. Rather than waiting in line for another hour, the two decided to leave. They walked around the unfamiliar neighborhood, searching the block for someplace dry to figure out plan b. They happened upon a grimy, all-night pizza place first and made a break for it.  Each ordered a slice — pepperoni for Iris, plain cheese for Linda — and they claimed a table by the window away from the groups of loud, underage college kids, completely soaked from the rain and obviously wasted on cheap liquor. 

“Really, Lin, it’s fine. You guys still got me out of the house for the night” Iris tried to assure her friend that the outing wasn’t a total flop. 

“No, it’s not fine. Look at us! We look hot! I’m not letting this go to waste.” An idea dawned on her face making Iris nervous. She abandoned her slice on its paper plate and reached into her bag. “Here.” Linda pulled two lollipops from her clutch. She offered one to Iris. “Lauren gave these to me last week. Welcome to phase 3 of Mission: Iris Reclaims Her Time, baby.” 

Now, Linda and Iris weren’t stoners by any stretch of the imagination. But they were two young women living in a big city, paying rent that was way too high, working stressful jobs that paid them way too little, and taking anxiety inducing public transit every goddamn day. Once in a while booze just didn’t cut it.

“Weirdo, stoner Lauren who lives down the hall?” Iris asked, somewhat shocked though not entirely surprised. Lauren was an aloof, surfer-looking girl who lived in their building and who, against all logic, Linda had a huge crush on. Iris imagined that Lauren got lost on the way to the beach one day and wandered around until she somehow found herself living in the city, miles from the ocean and selling drugs out of a loft that her parents paid for. She had long, wavy hair the color of sand, and always greeted Iris with a zen smile. 

“Yup,” Linda responded nonchalantly.

Iris took a lollipop from her “And why were you with weirdo stoner Lauren who lives down the hall?”

“Oh…you know…” Linda squirmed on the receiving end of Iris’ growing smirk and finally gave up trying to think up some half-assed excuse. “Just shut up and eat it.”

They unwrapped their edibles and held them in a toast. “Cheers,” Linda began, “to my best friend who finally vagged up…” Iris cringed as Linda only got louder. “…who finally VAGGED up, dumped that loser Scott and got her life back. In Beyoncé’s name we pray, Amen.”

“Amen,” Iris agreed. “How long until these kick in anyway?” “A couple of hours I think.” The college kids were getting rowdier. They were like drunk toddlers – screaming, laughing, falling down and blurting out the most random things. Iris watched them, jealous of the hangover free mornings they would have the next day, and suddenly felt too old to stay any longer. “Hey, why don’t we check out that bar across the street? I’ve seen three groups of hot guys go in since we got here.” “I like where your head’s at, West! Let’s go.” Linda grabbed Iris’ hand, forgetting their half-eaten slices, and pulled her across the street, nearly getting them killed by an oncoming cab. 

——

Linda was off with a tall finance bro with a cute butt and Iris was figuring out a way to get out of a dry conversation with some guy about the app he developed. Every time she tried to interrupt him, he cut her off with a new question that he would just answer for himself. 

“Well, this has been really gre– ”, Iris tried. Again. 

“What’s your favorite TV show? Mine’s definitely Narcos, I just think the story structure is so sophisticated, you know? It really transcends language, I think, you know? I just feel like…” 

Iris zoned out. She started looking around the bar for Linda to shoot her the please come pretend to be my overprotective girlfriend so we can go home look, but she couldn’t find her in the crowd of twenty somethings. As she looked around she took in the atmosphere of the place. She noticed how the bar was decorated like a library with beat-up leather arm chairs scattered around, an illuminated globe sitting on the floor by the bathrooms, and a bookshelf on the wall behind the counter — half-filled with drinks, half-filled with actual books. The place was crowed, but no more so than any other Lower East Side bar on a Saturday night.

She started to turn her attention back to app boy, Tom? Or maybe he said Todd?   Iris had no idea what he was talking about at this point. She was about to try, yet again, to escape when the bartender leaned over. 

“Excuse me, miss?” She looked up at him. He was a white guy with floppy brown hair and a little bit of scruff. He had on a worn-out flannel over a Led Zeppelin t-shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows like it was 2010. 

“Miss?” He said again. She met his eyes and focused on what he was saying. “Hi, sorry to interrupt, but there was a problem with your card. I need you to come to the register at the other end of the bar so we can sort it out.”

“My card?” She asked confused, “but I didn’t…” Iris trailed off as she saw him widening his eyes at her, looking between her and Tom/dd. 

“Oh! Right! My card!” She turned back towards Mr. Talksalot, “I’m so sorry, but I have to go deal with this. Have a lovely night.” “I can wait for you to figure it out.” 

“Don’t!” Iris yelled a little too eagerly over her shoulder as she followed her flannel-ed white knight to the opposite end of the bar. He was lean, with broad shoulders, like a swimmer. 

“That guy wouldn’t stop talking! Why do guys like that always think they’re the most interesting thing in the world? Thank you so much…” Iris trailed off, realizing she didn’t know his name. 

“Barry. And because guys like that are douchebags. So, what are you drinking tonight…?”

“Iris, I’m Iris. Um, whiskey, neat.” She answered. He pushed at his sleeves even though they hadn’t slipped from their fixed position on his forearms.

“Iris the badass,” he said with smirk. Her stomach fluttered at that. She noticed him pause for a second, his eyes fixed to the counter. 

“Um,” he faltered then regained his composure, taking out a tumbler and filling it with the well drink, “yeah I saw you get that look on your face.” He slid Iris her glass. 

“What look?” she asked taking a sip.   

“That look. The one that says this guy can’t take a hint and I can’t find my friends anywhere.” He smiled a little and she looked down at the drink, her fingers fiddling with the glass. 

“So you were watching me?” She hadn’t intended for it to sound that flirty but once it was out of her mouth she decided to roll with it. 

The question clearly surprised him. He looked at her, flustered for a moment, before shaking it off and clearing discarded pint glasses off the bar. She tried not to let that hurt her pride too much and finished off her drink. 

Barry turned back to her, looking like he was about to say something until he noticed her empty glass. 

“Wow.” He stated. “Rough night?”

Starting to loosen up and feel that familiar warm buzz that came with finishing her second drink she responded, “I’m supposed to be here with my best friend celebrating, as a matter of fact.”

“Oh, congratulations. What are we celebrating?” he asked, leaning on the bar. His arms looked strong.

“We are celebrating my break-up!” She announced. 

“Oh. I’m sorry, Iris,” he said as he stood up straighter. Her name sounded good coming out of his mouth. 

“You’re sweet, but really I’m okay. He was just some asshole I work with.” A stupid, vain, asshole who ironed his jeans. Who does that?

“Where do you work?”

“I write for that website Snub,” she said begrudgingly. Admittedly it wasn’t a bad job, but Iris started there so young — it was the only real, paid writing gig she ever had. After Scott screwed her over she started thinking maybe she’d been there a few years too long. 

“Very cool.” Barry said. She couldn’t gauge by his reaction if he knew what Snub was. She kind of hoped he didn’t. “Wait a second,” he bent down and brought up two 

glasses, “if we’re going to make this a proper celebration we need shots.” 

At the mention of shots Iris raised her hands in protest. 

“That sounds nice, but my wallet can’t handle $17 drinks.” Living in the city Iris and Linda figured they could either order shots when they went out or pay their rent, but not both. A couple times the drinks won.

“No worries,” he told her as he poured the tequila and slid a glass to her, “these are on the house.”

“That’s really, really nice, but I can’t let you do that. Wouldn’t your manager or the owner or whatever be pissed?”

“Nah. I mean he’s a major asshole but I don’t think he’d mind giving some congratulatory shots to a beautiful woman.” 

Normally a line like that from some dude in a bar would come off as skeezy and insincere and Iris would blow him off. But coming from him it felt genuine, like he honestly thought she was beautiful. For the first time in a while Iris wasn’t quite sure how to react. 

“Ehrm,” he interrupted her stupor, grabbing the back of his neck with one hand and raising his glass with the other. “Here’s to… here’s to…” 

“The future?” She offered questioningly.

“Yeah. Here’s to the future. May this be the first drink of many towards forgetting your ex.”

“I’ll drink to that.” 

They clinked their glasses and knocked back their shots, Barry wincing after his while desperately reaching for a slice of lime. 

“Punk,” Iris teased. 

He smiled back at her and for a moment the din of the crowed bar faded to the background. She looked at his face, dusted with freckles. Only his left cheek had a dimple which she had the strange urge to poke.

“There you are!” She felt Linda’s hand on her shoulder. Just like that her moment with the cute bartender was over and she was thrown back into reality. 

“I’ve been looking for you forever!” Linda shouted a bit too loudly to Iris. 

“Yeah right, Lin!” She shouted back. She turned to introduce her new friend but he was already gone. For a second she wondered if it was even real. She couldn’t lie, she was a little disappointed.

“How are you feeling?” Linda grabbed Iris’ face and studied her eyes. “Has it hit you yet?”

“I don’t think so,” she replied through her smushed cheeks. Truth be told Iris had completely forgotten they took edibles earlier, otherwise she definitely would have turned down those shots. 

“How ‘bout you?” She asked, though as Linda began to separate the individual strands of Iris’ hair she was certain of the answer. 

“Alright, pretty girl, time to go home.”

“Whattt, noooooo. I feel great, Iris. Have I ever told you how soft your hair is, dude?”

“Okay let’s go.” Iris responded. 

She thought about leaving her number for Barry as she closed out her tab but then Linda started to touch other people’s hair so she rushed to get her out of there. 

Just as Iris began to think her’s must have been a dud, the high hit her. It was like being frozen in a giant jello mold; it seemed like the entire world slowed down while her brain raced at a million miles a minute. One second she was washing her face and the next she was thinking about how the faucet was like a teeny tiny waterfall, making her feel like a giant. The minute a 5’4” girl starts calling herself a giant, it’s a wrap. 

She fell asleep that night feeling like a rowboat on the ocean caught in a whirlpool. She dreamt vividly of pepperoni pizza and bartenders with green eyes and floppy hair. 

——

The next morning Iris woke up in Linda’s bed, the TV still on, reheated Chinese leftovers, and, now, very melted ice cream surrounding them. She grabbed her phone from the night stand, checking the time and making sure she didn’t send any regrettable texts — as she’d been known to do on more than one occasion. She saw a text from Mari:

Mari 9:43am

> Sorry I ruined the mission :( 

> I don’t know what happened! Those guys were really hot!

> AND THEY WERE DOMINICAN. You KNOW I don’t act right around Dominican men!!

> Buy you and sleeping beauty brunch to make it up???

Iris 10:46am

> You didn’t ruin anything! I’m just happy you got home safe 

> Girl you were MESSED UP

>But I’ll never say no to free brunch. Let me try to wake up the monster give me an hour

She put her phone aside and rolled over to face Linda who had a puddle of drool on her pillow. 

“Gross,” Iris whispered. She cleared her throat, “wakey, wakey”. She started gently poking Linda’s face. 

“Ughhhh,” Linda groaned as she came to, “What?” 

“It’s almost 11 and Mari’s buying us brunch. Time to get up.”

“Five more minutes, mom,” Linda bargained.

“Sorry, kiddo, but the bottomless mimosas are calling your name. Listen: ‘Lindaaa, Lindaa, come drink us Lindaaa’,” Iris whispered into her friend’s face as Linda half-heartedly attempted to swat her away. 

“Coffeee,” Linda whined as Iris got out of bed and began to clear away the remnants of their late-night feast. 

“There’s coffee at brunch, so get your ass up,” she emphasized as she smacked her through the thick layer of blankets, “and let’s go!”

“You’re so mean to me!” Linda called out as Iris left her bedroom, but she could hear the covers drawing back and Linda’s feet hitting the wood floor. 

As she was getting ready she thought about the bartender again. Iris thought about his stupid brown hair and, really, who has that many freckles? He was pretty cute and he made her laugh. He was definitely flirting with her, right? Or had she just projected on to him in her cross-faded haze? And why was she still thinking about him? She usually didn’t get hung up on pale white guys, especially ones that looked like they were in Mumford & Sons. She shook it off, telling herself to forget about Barry, and that she’d probably never see him again. 

——

They met at their secret Sunday brunch spot, the only place without a line out the door. To the average person it was a nondescript, touristy diner, but Jitters had the best bottomless brunch, the best coffee, and, not to mention, the best prices in the entire city. They met there whenever they needed to catch up or when they needed the best hangover breakfast any of them had ever had. 

They slid into their usual booth towards the back. Mari immediately began rattling off her apologies while Linda, sunglasses still on, laid her head on the table until their coffee cups were filled. After Iris assured Mari no one was upset, and Linda had two cups of coffee, they filled the others in on their nights. 

Mari talked about her Dominicans who gave her a flask of rum. Linda reported back on her finance bro. It turns out while Iris was marooned with Tom/Todd (“Can we just call him T Money”, Linda offered), Linda was making out with Bro, getting familiar with his butt, until they got into a fight about fetishizing Asian women. 

“And then he said he’d been waiting for a hot Asian chick like me to show up the entire night.”

“Gross,” “Yikes,” Iris and Mari said simultaneously. 

“Then he had the audacity to say I was being too sensitive when I called him on it,” Linda spat out with disgust, then immediately clutched her head with a wince at her volume.

“That motherfucker,” Mari responded, pounding her balled fist on the table. 

“Why the hell do people think that’s okay? Like, seriously, don’t they see how patronizing it is?” Iris said. 

“Exactly! So I spilled the rest of the drink he bought in his lap before I found our girl sitting alone at the bar.” 

“Alone?” Mari asked, turning her attention from Linda to Iris.

“Actually, the bartender kind of saved me from the dude who wouldn’t let me leave.” 

Mari and Linda exchanged a brief look before turning their attention to Iris with matching smirks on their faces. 

“What!?” Iris asked from behind her coffee mug.

“Would this bartender happen to be good looking?” Linda asked while lightly nudging her arm. 

Iris looked down at her eggs, pushing them around with her fork.

“I mean, he wasn’t ugly.” 

“Oooh, girl. Did you guys talk?” Mari asked. 

“I thanked him for getting me away from–“ 

“–T money,” Mari interrupted.

“…from T money…and then I told him I was there with Linda celebrating a break-up and he kinda bought me a drink.”

Mari and Linda looked at each other in disbelief. 

“BIIIITTTTTCCCCHHHHHH!” A startled busboy turned around at Linda’s deep exclamation.

“Oh my god, Linda there are children here.”

“That’s not my problem. You’re telling me you sat here and listened to me whine about some racist asshole and you weren’t even going to mention this fucking superhero you met last night?” Linda was practically bouncing up and down in her seat.

“I don’t know about superhero, he was just a good dude.”

“What’s the difference, babe?” Mari chimed in.

“Either way, we didn’t exchange numbers and I doubt I’ll see him again.”

“Wait, what was the name of the bar you guys ended up at?” Mari asked. 

“Um…” Iris said.

“Dude I couldn’t even remember my name this morning” Linda added.

“Christ.”

“Well, there wasn’t a lot of time to notice with Linda almost getting us killed crossing the street!” Iris said. 

“What!?” Mari asked.

“Are we alive? Yes. So everything’s fine and Iris is being dramatic.”

“Mhmm,” Iris rolled her eyes at Linda.

They finished their food and eventually reached the bottom of those mimosas. After a short yet loud argument, Iris and Linda convinced Mari to let them pay their parts of the check. When Iris went into her wallet to get her card she realized it was missing. 

“Fuck me,” she exclaimed, exasperated. 

“Language, dear!” Linda joked. “What’s wrong?”

“My credit card’s gone!”

“Where was the last place you used it? Retrace your steps,” Mari offered. 

“Well, Lin and I took the train back, and I used cash for the pizza,” Iris rattled off. 

“Wait, didn’t we use your card to open the tab when we got to the bar?” Linda asked, hardly trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. 

“We don’t even know the name of the bar!” Iris protested. 

“It’s Sunday, we have all day to retrace our steps and reunite you with your hero. Commencing phase 4 of Mission: Iris Gets Rebound Dick.” 

“What happened to Iris Reclaims Her Time?”

“Plans change, just go with it,” Mari said, the two of them already rushing out the door.

Iris rolled her eyes but if she had to be honest with herself, she couldn’t deny that she was a little bit thrilled at the idea of seeing Barry again.

“Wait you guys! We still have to pay!” Iris yelled after them.

[crazedlunatic]

“Camping”

“What… Why are there two mattresses in the living room? And a tent? And an obstacle course made from the living room pillows and furniture?”

“Kurt, I just live here.” Blaine said from his seat at the kitchen island. He would have been in the living room or at the kitchen table but there was no seating available on the couches and all the kitchen chairs was supporting a makeshift tent made of sheets and string that may or may not have been… staple gunned onto the ceiling.

Surely not, though, right?

How would Nick have found one?

“I’m going to need a little more from you here, Blaine.”

“Hey, all you said was to work from home today. You said nothing about keeping your sons from making a campground and obstacle course in the living room. Honestly I’m impressed he was able to get the queen size mattress downstairs by himself.”

“Kris?”

“No. Nick.” Blaine looked at Kurt like he was crazy.

“…What?” Kurt said.

“I don’t know. He took Kris and said something about buying a picnic basket full of snacks and junk food for camping?”

“Wait. Did you let him take the car?”

“Yeah… I didn’t think about that. I bet they did drive.” Blaine looked thoughtful as the back door opened.

“DADDY’S HOME!” Kris squealed, running over to Kurt and bouncing up and down excitedly. “Daddy, Nicky and I are going to camp! We’ve got snacks and pillows and a tent!”

“You do?” Kurt said, giving Nick a weird look when he came in with two bags of—well, a not-quite-toddler-anymore’s dreams. Fruit Loops, Reese’s cups, gummy worms, sour patch straws. You name it, it was in the bag.

“What?” Nick gave him a weird look right back.

“Did you… nail a sheet to the ceiling?”

“Nope. I used screws.” Nick said with a straight face.

“And we’re gonna watch movies! Whichever ones I want!”

“We plan to see whose heart will give out first—the one who almost had a heart attack due to an eating disorder or the one born with a heart defect. It’s gonna be totally awesome!” Nick said, voice excited, as Kris ran from the room.

“Nicky.” Kurt sighed.

“We won’t eat too much and I’m sure he’ll fall asleep by nine. Everything will go back to normal in the morning. I promise.”

“How did you get the mattress down?” Kurt asked, looking confused.

“Yeah… you probably don’t want to know the answer to that, Daddy. Don’t look at the banister too close, okay?” Nick patted Kurt’s shoulder and walked into the living room with Kris.

“Hey… I mean, he seems almost normal around Kris. Even if he isn’t around us, that’s progress.” Blaine said. “He went a good month after he got back from the center without playing with him. I… know maybe we shouldn’t be letting him do it, but I also think Kris needs the attention. You know Nick is his ‘most favorite-est person ever.’”

“Yeah but you know Kris has to be careful too.” Kurt bit his lip and leaned back glancing into the living room from the doorway.

He saw Kris neatly separating the snacks out.

“No. We need chaos. This is an indoors camp out, Kristian.” Nick scoffed, piling them all together again.

If anyone else had done that, Kris probably would have cried. But he just giggled and scooted close to Nick. “Can we watch the Little Mermaid?”

“Uhm, only if we can watch Aladdin after.” Nick said, crawling under their tent.

“This is so cool!” Kris squealed, crawling in behind him.

“Who says you can’t camp indoors? Not me.” Nick grabbed the TV remote and pulled up Amazon. He then rented The Little Mermaid because let’s be real. He spent two hours hanging sheets from the ceiling. He was not walking up those stairs again until it was time to put on pajamas.

“This is the best day of my life!”

“Eat a fruit roll up and it’ll be even better!” Nick said handing him one as the previews started. “But don’t eat it and chocolate at the same time. I tried that once and almost puked. It wasn’t very pleasant.”

“That’s icky!” Kris gasped, looking more like Kurt than ever.

“I know, right?” Nick opened a package of sour patch kids—hoping it wouldn’t upset his stomach too much because, honestly, he hadn’t eaten a whole lot of junk food since making it back to New York City with Kurt a couple of months earlier. There was still a lot he couldn’t stomach, but Nick figured he’d know pretty quickly if he needed to quit eating it.

“Nicky, did you know your name rhymes with icky?” Kris giggled.

“Technically my name is Nicholas… just like your name is technically Anthony.” Nick pointed out, opening a bottle of water—which, honestly, was almost all that he drank.

“I don’t like that name.” Kris sighed.

“Yeah I don’t like Nicholas very much either. But at least our names aren’t Kurt or Blaine.”

Kris began to giggle loudly. “That’s Daddys’ names.”

“Shh, don’t tell them.” Nick said although he knew very well that his parents could hear—neither he nor Kris had quite mastered talking quietly yet. And honestly, Nick probably never would.

“I won’t!” Kris said, laying on his belly and putting his head on Nicky’s pillow so he was facing the television.

Nick laid on his stomach too, looking at his phone. He smiled, seeing Zach has texted him a picture of Ellie—because ever since Nick had finally met her and got to hold her, he literally could not get enough. Honestly, if he was able to really drive, he probably would have gone to Ithaca to see Zach, Sarah, and Ellie between their own trips back home.

His parents didn’t let him drive very much, though, and almost never alone. Which he understood—he’d only gone three weeks without passing out.

“Nicky, does your belly still hurt?” Kris asked several minutes into the movie, looking at him with Kurt’s wide blue eyes.

“Nope.” Nick said cheerfully. “It might soon if we keep eating this junk food, though.”

“Nicky, I’m glad you came back from school.” Kris sat up, tucking his legs underneath him. “Because you were gone a long time and you’re my bestest friend in the whole wide world.”

“Well you’re my bestest friend in the whole wide world too.” Nick said and stretched his arms out. “And the world is, like, a whole lot bigger than this.”

Kris giggled and asked, “Bigger than the Milky Way?”

“Are we talking the candy bar or the galaxy?” Nick asked very seriously. “Either way, yes.”

“That’s pretty big.”

“I know.” Nick nodded, taking another drink of his water. “Like… really big. Bigger than Dad’s hair when he doesn’t cut it for too long and his hair gets all curly and poofy.”

Kris let out a cackle.

“I heard that!” Blaine called from the living room.

“I know you did!” Nick called back, grinning at Kris.

“Zachy’s hair does it too.” Kris said.

“Yeah. Zach just doesn’t care. Plus, Sarah likes it and he likes Sarah, so…” Nick shrugged.

“Zach has Sarah and Sophie has Logan. Where’s your Sarah-Logan?”

“Mmmh out there somewhere I guess.” Nick shrugged again. “Where’s yours?”

“Mmmh out there somewhere I guess.” Kris repeated, grinning at him.

“Don’t tell Zach but you’re my favorite little brother.”

“But Zach isn’t your little brother.” Kris looked at him, confused. “You were born at the same time.”

“No. I was born four minutes before him. Do not take those four minutes from me, Anthony.”

“Does four minutes really matter, though?”

“Uh, yes. It matters a lot.” Nick said very seriously. “Just ask Madonna.”

“That’s silly.”

“You’re silly.”

“Well you’re silly looking.”

“No. You’re silly looking.”

Kurt poked his head in. “If you two are arguing over who looks sillier, it’s Nick. Because Kris looks like me.”

“DADDY!” Kris scooted over so Kurt could join.

“Hey, you didn’t tell me you had Skittles in here.” Kurt scoffed, coming in and sitting between Nick and Kris.

“Uh, what’s going on?” Sophie asked, bending down a few seconds later.

“Join us.” Nick patted the floor on his other side. “We already have your pillow anyway… you know, since you basically live in my room at night anyway.”

Sophie crawled in. “It would have been better if you’d put glow in the dark stars on the sheets and turned out the lights.”

“Fuc—dge.” Nick looked up, pouting. “This is why you’re going to Harvard next year.”

“Just for undergrad.” Sophie said sheepishly. “It’s not like I’m trying to get into Harvard Law or anything.”

“Yeah. I’ve heard that one before.” Kurt rolled his eyes. “Then got a lovely awakening the April before classes started.”

Blaine poked his head in. “Are…. you all four in here?”

“DADDY!” Kris scooted over once more so Blaine could come in.

“Don’t touch those Skittles!” Kurt threatened.

Blain shrugged and took a packet anyway.

Kris giggled as Blaine opened it and stuck some in his mouth, sitting on Kris’ other side.

“If Zachy was here, it’d be perfect.” Kris sighed.

“If Zachy was here, that means Sarah and Ellie would be too… which would mean the tent would be over capacity.” Sophie pointed out.

“If they come over this weekend, I’ll add another sheet.” Nick shrugged.

“This is not staying up until this weekend when your brother comes over.” Kurt gave Nick a look.

“I mean I may just feel too weak to climb that ladder and take it all down.” Nick dramatically fell back into a laying position.

Sophie reached back, smacking his arm. “That’s for kicking me last night… and every night.”

“I would say I’m sorry but I’m not.” Nick said. “The last time I’ve slept in a bed alone was January when I ended up in the hospital, so you guys are going to just have to deal. Plus, everyone knows I kick anyway.”

“Do I kick, Daddy?” Kris asked Blaine.

“Yep. Just like your other Daddy.”

“I don’t kick.” Kurt looked at Blaine like he was crazy.

“Uh… yes you do.” Nick said.

“It’s true.” Blane nodded. “I’m pretty sure Zach and I are the only ones that don’t.”

“Must be the curls.” Sophie said sweetly. “It weighs down your heads so much that you can’t lift your legs.”

Nick, who had sat up, fell back against the mattress again laughing.

“I find that highly offensive.” Blaine scoffed. “You are all just jealous of mine and Zach’s beautiful hair.”

“Yeah, no.” Sophie said. “You can tell yourself that if it makes you feel better, though.”

“Thanks, Soph.”

“Anytime, Daddy.”

[oberlinconservatory]

In the Practice Room with the 2019 Rubin Scholars

For each of the past 14 years, Oberlin Conservatory has welcomed the legendary American mezzo-soprano Marilyn Horne for a weeklong residency. And after each of the past six, Horne has awarded $10,000 to outstanding students that she coached during her campus visit. Both the scholarship and the Horne residency are made possible by the singer’s close friend and philanthropist Stephen Rubin, president and publisher of Henry Holt & Co. This spring, Horne named soprano Whitney Campbell ’19 and tenor Shawn Roth ’20 the new awardees, each receiving $5,000 in funding for auditions, travel, and the living expenses that accompany the life of a young artist. While singing for THE Marilyn Horne was a bit nerve-racking for both Whitney and Shawn, they both admit that having fun has backed all their hard work at Oberlin.

When were you first inspired by the human singing voice?

Whitney: As a child, I would go around the house singing at all hours of the day. The first time I was inspired by the operatic voice, was when I heard Renée Fleming live in recital when I was 13 years old. Her ability to touch the soul with her voice alone inspired me to pursue this career!

Shawn: Among a few moments that stick out in particular would be the first time I heard a recording of Pavarotti singing “La donna è mobile.” There was just something so other-worldly about it—it sounded too perfect to be of this earth. I thought, “Whoa, opera’s the coolest thing there is,” because nothing remotely came close to listening to it.

What are some of your greatest musical influences?

Whitney: Since first hearing Renée Fleming in that recital, I have always gone back to her as a source of inspiration. I consider her my biggest role model. Her innate musicality and ability to express with her voice is something I aspire to achieve. I have read her book, The Inner Voice, at least three times. Angela Meade, Marilyn Horne, Montserrat Caballé, Eileen Farrell, Mirella Freni, and so many more, also influence my work. In addition to those singing role models, it was my longtime choir director Barbara Walker who introduced me to music and really inspired me to pursue this career. She heard me singing at the pool when I was five years old and recruited me on the spot to join the Livingston Parish Children’s Choir in Denham Springs, LA, where I sang from kindergarten through seventh grade. She is still a major musical influence and mentor to me today. Without her, I probably would not have gotten into music at all.

Shawn: Every day I find another reason to sing, whether it’s because I’ve discovered a new aria or new singer, perhaps I found out something new when I practiced that day, or maybe someone said something I’d like to prove wrong! As far as musical influences go, I’ve had a few constants—one would be Pavarotti. I always go back to him, even if I haven’t listened to him in months. Another would be classical radio programming. I grew up in Johnstown, Pennsylvania, with Pittsburgh’s classical radio station WQED. One night, when I was a kid, I was messing with my radio before bed and came across this absolutely, shockingly mesmerizing sound. It was a beautiful symphony—I unfortunately don’t remember what the piece was, but I remember the host saying it was by an African-American composer. Probably William Grant Still’s Symphony No. 1, now that I think of it. But from then on I would listen to the classical station anytime I could, and I credit that with giving me my love for classical music in particular. When I come home I turn the dial as soon as I’m in range!

Shawn performs opposite soprano Alexis Reed ’20 in Missy Mazzoli’s Proving Up in the January 2019 Winter Term Opera. What have been some of your greatest experiences in Oberlin? Any most valuable takeaways?

Whitney: Having the opportunity to work with Marilyn Horne is definitely at the top of my list! It was an absolutely incredible experience that I am beyond grateful for. During my four years at Oberlin, I was fortunate enough to be cast in all four of the operas conducted by Christopher Larkin. After being in the chorus for the first two, I got to work more closely with him on solo roles in Britten’s The Turn of the Screw and Poulenc’s Dialogues des Carmélites. It was such a privilege to work with maestro Larkin during my time here. He was so inspiring with his encouraging words and musical ideas, while simultaneously teaching us how to work with a full orchestra. It’s incredible that Oberlin provided us—as such young singers—with fully staged, costumed, and orchestrally supported opportunities to grow as artists on stage.

Shawn: Getting accepted to Oberlin in the first place was such a thrill, since I really only began studying voice seriously during my senior year of high school. I’ve been incredibly fortunate for what Oberlin’s given to me. I’ve had the chance to work with an amazing teacher, Salvatore Champagne, throughout my time here. As an underclassman I got to listen to incredibly talented colleagues like Olivia Boen ’17 and Cory McGee ’18 before they took off. I’ve been in master classes with world-renowned artists such as Marilyn Horne, George Shirley, Gerald Martin Moore, and Brian Zeger. I’ve worked on operas with two of the best living composers, Du Yun and Missy Mazzoli. And I’ve been invited to sing with the Cleveland Orchestra as a soloist, twice, because they reached out to Oberlin specifically for singers. How can I possibly pick a favorite out of any of those?! And I still have one more year left, which is hands-down the craziest part. Can’t wait to see what happens next year!

Whitney Campbell in Oberlin Opera Theater’s spring 2019 production of Poulenc’s Dialogues des Carmélites. Singing on the Marilyn Horne master classes is one of the most exciting honors for Oberlin singers. What was that first experience of working with the great American mezzo like for you? Whitney: As I was sitting in the audience, waiting for my turn to sing the “Czardas” from Die Fledermaus for Marilyn Horne, I was the most nervous I’ve ever felt for a performance. However, after getting through the first sing-through, she was so kind—I just knew she was rooting for all of us to succeed! She had such great, really helpful advice for me about pacing the piece. It ended up being one of my favorite performances at Oberlin. To top it all off, I got to have an hour-long lesson with her the next day! I never would’ve thought I would have the chance to casually sing through my repertoire for Ms. Horne. It was a life-changing experience, and I still can’t believe it happened. One of the coolest things she said to me was that I reminded her of herself at a young age, which was the best compliment I could ever wish to receive. I’m still reeling from it! I really hope I can continue to work with her in the years to come! Shawn: Oh god, I’ve never been more nervous than when I was waiting backstage to go on stage for Ms. Horne. As the most established living American mezzo, she’s one of the most intimidating people to sing for on the planet...at first. Once I got out there and she started asking me about my pieces, she made me feel right at home. (I think both of us being from western Pennsylvania probably helped, too!) She’ll ask you to do things no one else will, and as a result, can improve your performance in ways no one else can. Working with her in a private lesson was just as exciting—at the time, I was singing baritone, and had Billy Budd’s aria in my package. To help me out, she told me how the first baritone to sing that role sang it, who just happened to be a friend of hers. That’s the beauty of Ms. Horne’s experience—she’ll tell you things that came right from the mouths of Britten or Stravinsky themselves.

Shawn in Oberlin Opera Theater’s fall 2018 production of Bernstein’s Trouble in Tahiti with castmate and mezzo-soprano Gabriela Linares ’21. What did your path to music and Oberlin look like? 

Whitney: Following my years of experience singing in the Livingston Parish Children’s Choir, I decided to audition for the New Orleans Center for Creative Arts, right in my hometown. After being admitted at the high school level, I skipped 8th grade and went straight into high school. I studied classical voice with Phyllis Treigle, expanded my art song repertory, participated in a number of opera scenes, and performed in two full operas. It was in those pivotal years that I discovered that opera was all I wanted to do. Throughout high school, I did summer opera intensives at Louisiana State University and the Brevard Music Center. It was during my junior year that my mom convinced me to go to Oberlin’s Vocal Academy for High School Students, and I fell in love with this school! I could just feel that Oberlin would help me grow into a more well-rounded artist. And, the conservatory immediately became my number-one pick for undergrad. Now, as I approach graduation, I realize how lucky I was to receive such a thorough music education from such a respected institution. I am so grateful to everyone that made my experience here such an exciting one! Shawn: So, although music was a constant in my life since day one, I had a lot of insecurity and anxiety about what to study in college. Where I’m from, the only real “path” for musically-inclined kids was to go to one of three or four state schools, get a degree in music education, and try your luck at applying for teaching jobs in the area. Three of my high school music teachers sat me down with my parents one day to try to scare me out of a performance-based career, because it was just such an “outlandish” idea. Of course, I chose Oberlin anyway. I think it’s worked out pretty well so far. So my advice for anyone who needs to hear it is this: Do what you want to be doing with your time. It’s not anyone else’s, and it’s the only thing you can’t get back once it’s gone. Now for a more uplifting story! The exact moment that I knew I wanted to sing for a living came while I was singing with a regional choir in my junior year of high school, led by an incredibly talented conductor, Chris Jackson. We were preparing Mozart’s Regina Coeli, which features a solo quartet out in front of the choir. Wanting that solo so badly and hoping to stand out, I called upon my official sponsor for this interview, Luciano Pavarotti, and just tried to sound like him as much as possible. It worked, and I got the solo! Singing out there in front of everyone activated the strongest emotional response to music I’ve ever had, and I knew then that I wanted to do this for the rest of my life. I still get that feeling when I perform, and it’s one of the strongest highs you can feel. I actually ended up running into Chris last summer, when we were both singing at the Yale School of Music’s Norfolk Festival. During a break in rehearsal, I re-introduced myself and thanked him for letting me discover my passion—then we went right back to singing, this time as colleagues. All the more proof that the classical music world is the smallest there is!

“Do what you want to be doing with your time. It’s not anyone else’s, and it’s the only thing you can’t get back once it’s gone.”

Whitney, Shawn, and fellow voice majors with guest master clinician and acclaimed vocal coach Gerald Martin Moore.    Do you have any advice for our incoming freshman singers?

Shawn: Have fun, and listen to each other. A large portion of your education comes from classes and lessons, but perhaps the most valuable things you’ll learn will come from your friends and colleagues. Be easy to work with—it will pay dividends in the long run. Even that still boils down to just being receptive to the people around you. Your entire time as an undergrad is an audition for all your peers, because they’ll be the ones who will get you jobs later on. And people who are easy to work with will be easy to employ. So show up with your music memorized, do the things the conductors ask you to do, and have fun with it, because that’s why we all do it at the end of the day. Also, learn German. The Germans already know English.

Whitney: Absolutely don’t forget to learn from your peers! Be supportive of each other—don’t tear each other down! Be a good colleague. Be respectful. Be prepared. Always be on time. It will only help you in the long run to have a reputation of being respectful and dependable. And, lastly, remember why you came to Oberlin. You came here to do what you love: sing opera. You are here to do it for you, and it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks or says. Have fun with it!

[fell-in-love-didnt-you]

Royals; Part 3: SnowBaz Fanfiction

Has smut

The flat seemed glaringly empty when Simon walked in.

He set his drenched coat in the laundry room to the left of the door and emptily walked through the kitchen they hardly ever used. They had a cleaner come in once every two weeks to tidy things up that they never touched. It was almost as redundant as being a chimney sweeper for a lot of chimney-less homes. In fact, theirs was a chimney-less home.

Simon’s hand danced lightly over the marble countertop of their island where they ate the majority of the food. He couldn’t even remember the last time they used the formal dining area, which was just off the side of their enormous living room. Everything there was plush and expensive and made of cloth that came from the most desired corners of the earth.

“Are you living off my son?” 

Simon couldn’t help but have Mr. Grimm’s voice bounce through his head. Of course, the first thing he wanted to say was no; he had his own job and could support himself without a prince’s endless bank account. If Baz dropped him the next day, he could support himself from the bottom up. He’d done it for years before he’d ever met Baz at the pretentious sports club he had to work at. There was a time before Baz where money was tight, but Simon did it.

There was a tight feeling coiling itself around Simon’s chest. It was crawling through his throat and forced itself out in an ugly noise. Simon clasped a hand over his mouth before he remembered that no one was home. There was no reason to guard himself so tightly in the place he lived.

Could it even be considered his home if Baz had refused to let him pay even a small portion of the bills? He definitely lived here. He had his own office up the stairs and to the right. He had his own computer and bookcases and shitty romance novels. He had his own collection of video games and the same gaming console he’d had since he was nineteen. It was the first large purchase completely for fun he had made in his undergrad years. It was one of the only things he’d kept that he’d had before he moved in with Baz.

There were so many distinct periods in Simon’s life. He could probably map them out like a smaller version of the geological time scale with every part filled until now. There was the Orphanage Era, with many different and dingy homes filled with an aura of sadness separating themselves into periods. Next was definitely a much smaller time frame: Familial Era. This one had two periods: pre-leaving and post-leaving of his father, a most respected man who couldn’t be bothered with a child while he was off making political ties for himself.

And then…then there was the Baz Era. Pre-Baz was easiest to remember. Those were the months of living off of ramen noodles and Indian takeaway in his and Penny’s shared flat in a shithole complex with a terrifying landlady and more than a few crazy neighbors. Then there was the smidge at the vey end of post-Baz where Simon got the job at the club. He nearly went broke for that fucking awful place. Ven now, Simon could recall the dropping feeling in his stomach as he made the decision to suck it up and take the job, even if it meant paying a ridiculous fee. The first week’s pay would cover it.

The Baz Era was still happening. Now, it was Post-Baz, or at least Post-Meeting-Baz. There were fancy dates and suits and expensive wine bottles all handed on a silver platter to Simon, and he’d honestly not known how to deal with it the first time around. He’d needed to run to the loo and frantically call Penny for advice (to which she’d actually laughed at loud for minutes, and only after she’d calmed down did she actually give proper advice).

And then Baz revealed he was a prince which had sounded like a real-life email scam read off to Simon in Baz’s old apartment, and Simon had laughed and made fun of Baz and told him that he’d never fall for a joke like that. And then it was true. And now he was here, in a too-big apartment with a too-big bed and a too-big anxious ball of something lurking in the back of his mind. It was always there making its little noises of doubt and protest, and Simon did his best to ignore it.

But now…it was starting to seem truer than the truth.

Simon walked up the lavish staircase that had no safety railing up to their bedroom. The bed was empty, and the air was cold. A draft that had no purpose being there swept over him and through the room. There was no life here. This place was cold and dead like the other unused rooms of the flat. There were too many to count, really.

Simon pulled his small duffel bag with pen marks and unintelligible Sharpie writing on it from the closet. He went to his small section where there were graphic tees and old jeans hanging. Baz’s clothes were mostly suits and nice button-ups, and he had only a few pairs of jeans and old shirts. Even then, they were much nicer than Simon’s. That’s just how it usually went.

He slowly packed a pair of underwear, some shirts, and two pairs of jeans. If he had been thinking, Simon might’ve packed some socks or a comb or something, but he just walked into the bathroom and pulled his toothbrush and medication from the countertop. The clanking of the small pills in the bottle was the only indication life was inside this place. Simon couldn’t even hear his own breathing or footsteps over the sound of the anxious ball speaking to him.

Simon zipped up the camo green bag and felt its weight in his hands. It was so fucking light. There should’ve been more things he was itching to pack, but it made him realize that this place was clearly not his. There was no mark of him other than his small wardrobe, toothpaste stains, and occasional pictures in frames that were scattered. His office was hardly filled. Besides his freaking PlayStation, everything there had been handed to him.

He walked down the stairs and found the notepad that both he and Baz used to make shopping lists, and he wrote a small paragraph explaining he was going to Penny’s, that Baz shouldn’t worry, and he’d call him sometime this week. Tentatively, he also wrote that Baz should not come find him. He needed space, and while the flat certainly provided a lot of that, it was more of the kind of space that required a few streets and buildings and people in between it. And Simon hadn’t realized it before, but he was crying. If this felt like the right thing to do, why did it hurt so fucking much?

He closed the flat door behind him and rang a cab.

…

Penny was less than enthusiastic about this.

Simon had explained to her everything that had happened the day before: Baz’s excitement, his own nerves, and the treatment he’d gotten from both the duchess and duke. And then she’d hit him over the head with a spare magazine.

“What the hell, Penny?” Simon asked, his voice shrill. A low throb was sounding off behind his head, and he realized magazines shouldn’t hurt that much.

“You’re a twat, Simon Snow,” she replied, placing her magazine down by her side. Of course, it was one Micah had written in. He was on the front cover in a stylish suit; Simon wanted to ask about that, but something told him now was not the time. “You really left after one day interacting with his parents? I mean,” she stood up and walked into her kitchen where a small window let Simon see her, “it’s not like they’re the final say in what happens between the two of you anyways.”

Simon touched the throbbing spot on his head and said, “It was like being back at that club, except this time, Baz’ father had a true vendetta for me.”

“Look, Simon, you know I’m not gonna sit here and say that job was the best thing that ever happened to you or anything,” she yelled over the screech of the kettle on the stove, “and I’m also not gonna say that what the duke did was fine either.”

She walked back into the sitting room a few minutes later with two steaming cups of tea in her hands. As she sat down, Simon asked, “Then what are you going to say?”

Penny took a long sip of her tea, seeming to think over the question before she answered. “I’m going to say that Baz is a good man and that he’s been very good for you. I’m also going to say that your feelings towards his father are legitimate, but associating those feelings with Baz also is fucking moronic.”

Simon choked on his tea and spat it out in harsh coughs. Penny just sat on her couch and sipped her own tea, waiting for him to stop so she could continue. “Sins of the father, Simon,” was all the explanation she gave. “Sleep on the couch tonight, but I’m making you go and explain yourself tomorrow.”

“I left a note,” Simon mumbled into the couch cushion as Penny threw a fluffy blanket that was perfect-sized for her but too small for him. She purposely aimed the pillow at his head, and Simon could hear her laughing to herself as she walked down the hallway to her bedroom. He put the pillow behind his head and arranged himself so that he was curled on his side and protected by the blanket. As Simon tried to figure out how he could possibly make this up to Baz in the morning he fell asleep. Damn chamomile tea.

…

It felt weird to be knocking on the door to the placed he’d lived for a few years, but it also felt weirder to try and walk in like nothing had happened. Simon had his duffel in his right hand, head hanging as he heard the door open. He was faced with Baz’s cute little bunny slippers where the ears were flopping down nearly into the eyes of the fake animal. It was late at night, and this made it obvious to Simon that Baz had been preparing for bed.

He saw the little slippers move to the side, and (taking that as an invitation to step inside) Simon walked into the flat and turned around, feeling like a child about to be scolded. He’d been in that situation enough times to know what it felt like, but this guilt he felt was much more intense than anything. He’d hit a girl when he was five or so in an orphanage, and even then, this was so much worse. Simon had let down a person he genuinely cared about.

There was an awkward silence between them before Baz finally said, “A note? That’s how you were planning on leaving me?” Simon didn’t try to protest. He had no right to speak. “You didn’t even want me to come fight for you.”

The break let Simon get a word in. “I wasn’t leaving you.”

“Really?” Baz demanded, stomping over to the kitchen island and then coming back with the note in his hand. Simon finally turned his head up, expecting an angry Baz but instead seeing someone virtually broken, and he had done that. “You call this not leaving me? You didn’t call, you didn’t say anything, and you certainly didn’t warn me!!” His voice was shrill and watery, and Simon felt like every little word was a tiny nick at his heart. “Have you got anything to say?” Baz asked.

“Yes,” Simon replied defiantly. “You have no idea what it’s like to face a room of people who automatically hate you! You’ve never had to look people in the face, knowing you’re less than them, knowing you’ll never matter to them, and knowing that no matter what you do or say they will find a way to hate you! I come from nothing!” he yelled, his voice filling the empty space around them and echoing back.

Simon was furious. He stomped away from the kitchen and up the stairs, making sure that each of his steps echoed around him. He could hear Baz walking behind him, but he still slammed the bedroom door shut and threw his duffel at the wall, screaming angrily. He felt like a total teenager in his range, and he wasn’t even sure why he was so angry. Simon lifted a hand to his cheek and realized he was crying. Fuck, he thought. How was he supposed to stay mad if he couldn’t even keep himself together?

The door opened behind him, and Simon turned to see Baz in his fucking robe and bunny slippers, and this felt like the first fight they’d ever had: Simon was crying, Baz was balling his fists at his sides, and the room was charged with electricity. Simon desperately wanted to reach out and kiss Baz, but his fiancé beat him to it.

This also felt like the first fight they’d ever had. It always ended in sex. It could be angry sex or sappy sex or emotional sex or all three, and Simon wasn’t complaining in the slightest.

It was easy to push Baz’s robe off, and then it was Simon’s turn to be naked. And this was the part that always went slow because Simon was always shy and tried to cover himself, but then Baz would kiss his neck and collarbones and every fucking mole on his body. It was the type of care and adoration like this that made Simon cry harder. And Baz kissed his tears away then.

“You can’t leave me, Simon Snow,” Baz whispered in his ear, and Simon nodded. One hand was threaded in Baz’s hair, and Baz was hovering above him. They were both naked now, and the warmth of Baz’s skin against the chill of his own reminded Simon how much he loved this…how much he loved Baz.

“I won’t,” Simon whispered back minutes later when his brain decided to work again. Feeling Baz thrust his fingers inside his body always made him sluggish. It was all Simon could do to make his lips form around the words and push the sound out. Besides that, there were just little breathy moans and whimpers when Baz’s finger would brush against his prostate. It was always slow in this stage. Baz treated him well and never did anything without permission.

As Baz put a condom on and leaned over Simon, pressing the head of his prick right against Simon, Baz asked permission, and Simon melted, collecting Baz in his arms and pressing his face into the crook of Baz’s neck. Baz begin to slowly thrust, hearing the punched-out moans right in his ear. Simon could feel his nails digging tracks into Baz’s back. A tight heat was coiling itself in the bottom of Simon’s belly just minutes in, and it truly reminded himself of how long it had been since they’d properly had time to fuck. As Baz was thrusting harder inside him, Simon was crying again, holding Baz’s back and keeping his legs wrapped around Baz’s waist. Simon could feel the muscles contrasting in Baz’s lower back as he got closer, and Simon came first, crying out into Baz’s shoulder.

When the room calmed down, Simon was able to stop crying, though he was still trying to get a handle on his breathing. His bottom lip was still being sucked into his mouth as he breathed, and when he finally did calm down completely, Simon tentatively curled himself up into Baz’s side, and Baz wrapped both arms around him.

[warmau]

{Special} College!AU Jae

major: communications - rhetoric concentration 

minor: philosophy (not going well for him)

sports: n/a

clubs: debate team, writes for the art journal, in a couple of on-campus bands but is mostly active with a group called night6

“bro, why aren’t you a music major?”

“easy. i love getting into arguments with people.”

so a lot of people don’t know much about tall, lanky, otherwise unthreatening looking jae

and that’s the fact that he can run his mouth a mile a minute, and quite frankly, he loves doing that

got called out on twitter for abusing the 280 character limit 

by called out i mean youngk started a poll to get jae blocked by twitter - it didn’t work but it was hilarious 

asked his friend jamie once “hey, if i send in my grades - will they verify me on instagram?”

she wasn’t amused

he originally thought taking philosophy would just mean more time to debate others, but socrates ??? what was that dude even saying??? why are all his words so Complicated

like jae is all for that know thyself but damn,,,,,

he wants to go into law after school,,,,or more specifically public policy and stuff. he might act silly and make sarcastic jokes the core of his personality - but jae cares about things

he cares about people and the world deeply, enough that he’s agitated by unjustice

even if he’s gotten excused from “discourses on colonialism” like five times for cursing out christopher columbus 

he loves music a lot, probably has the most diverse taste in it though - so people are always asking him for reccommendations 

knows like,,,,,every local band playing in bars near campus,,,

night6 is a small band gotten together by jae and his closes friends, their unofficial manager is jamie who always puts up a fuss about them not playing venues worth their talent

but tbh jae loves it, the stage

small or big, playing guitar or arguing over texts - he just likes the spotlight

even if his rather shy, nerdy apperance says otherwise

he probably owns like one hundred of the same pair of wide-framed glasses because he thinks they make him look the best

also once he worse dark ones and wonpil was like “you look like a blind mouse”

always chilling outside of class, guitar case slung over his shoulder and notebook in hand, listening to some indie album no one has ever heard of

has messy hair, but a super clean dorm (sungjin really doesn’t know why his dorm is the only thing jae keeps organized in his life)

and you’ve actually known jae for a while, since middle school actually,,,

in high school you two even briefly dated, after years of friendship it had all come to a point where you’d kissed at some after party dance

and you and jae were sure you were soulmates, both music obsessed and enjoying good banter

but,,,,,,,,,it didn’t last long,,,,,,,,,because well because you ended it

there had been too much going on, too many uncertain futures and jae had still been a teenager - unaware that his jokes had a time and a place

and when you were in peril, you didn’t want his sarcastic commentary,,,,you wanted the jae behind that

the jae that had held you in his arms like you were the most treasured source of light in his life and if he were to let go  he’d be shrouded in darkness forever

but he hadn’t been that,,,and you didn’t know if he still had it in him

you guys didn’t talk much after, you didn’t know he even ended up at the same college as you until you see him talking with a jamie outside of debate club

and you wouldn’t have gone over, if it hadn’t have been for jamie spotting you and waving you over

she held your arm excitedly, asking if you know jae and if you can still make it to the concert she’d invited you tonight

all too quick did it dawn that this was jae’s concert,,,, 

“im happy you still play guitar.”

you whispered and jamie’s excitement buzzed between the weird atmosphere of you and jae

he smiled, but it was half-hearted

“im happy you’re doing well.”

the concert was,,,,just as you expected - in a dark, dingy bar full of drunk undergrads

jae’s band was playing, and you could vaguely recognize youngk who also went to high school with you two

the setlist was a whole bunch of songs you’d never head before - and you couldn’t believe that you felt your heart twist when you couldn’t even recognize one

a memory of you and jae, sitting in his garage when you were just sixteen played like an old film in your head

he had been a tiny bit shorter than he was now, and his handsome sharp features were awkward

but you had felt nothing short of true, pure love back then

because jae was sharing his songs with you, reaching out to take your hand and help you play chords 

laughing sweetly against your ear and making everything else float away

he had been close, so so close

but now, you were at the other end of the room and he was playing something unfamiliar and his eyes hadn’t met yours the entire night,,

clutching your untouched beer once more, you pushed it away and made your way to jamie who stood at the edge of the stage recording the performance

“just got a text from my RA, im gonna go ok?”

she nodded, turning to smile and mouth a goodbye

as you turned, your back to the stage as you fought through the people to the exit

jae’s eyes flicked from his mic to the shadow of your figure

i won’t miss them. ive missed them for far too long

he thought, but somehow he knew he was lying to himself. like he’d lied to himself when you broke up with him.

after that, you and jae kept your distances

jamie had tried to invite you to more of night6′s shows - but you made up excuses

she probed and jae to tell her how you two knew each other, but he always answered in one word or two

“school” “same neighborhood” “don’t remember” 

but he did - he remembered everything, even the things that hurt the most 

how you weren’t a,,,,,,sun kind of person,,,,you were more like the moon - gentle, but unforgettable 

you were the first person to tell jae he didn’t have to be whatever other people wanted him to be

you were the first person he really,,,,kissed,,,,really touched

there was so much about you - small facts and habits that he knew that suddenly flooded back in waves after seeing you at his concenrt

that he couldn’t sleep for hours,,,,,laid in bed and stared into the dark, listening to youngk’s small snores and stirs and thought

about the color of your eyes, the slope of your neck, your words - “jae, you weren’t there for me. i needed you and you just - you just -”

both you and jae know that staying away is the only thing that can keep you two on track, and the university is a big place it isn’t that hard to avoid crossing paths

but fate is mysterious and sometimes you can’t control where two people end up

it’s late when you leave the bookstore - you’re supposed to take your bike back to campus but ,,,,,,,, it’s gone

you stare at the pole you attached it to, but,,,,,,,it’s not there

the only thing remaining is the broken lock laying helplessly on the ground and as you squat down to pick it up

you try to reason with yourself - so what if it got stolen,,,,it was old,,,,,

but biting back your lip, you clutch the lock in hand and think that there must be a bus nearby,,,,a metro station? 

“stolen bike? tough luck!”

a voice says from behind you

“people are really dropping to new lows these days, like dude just go get a used bike they’re like thirty bucks.”

the voice is familiar and you want to tell yourself that no, there’s no way

but when you turn, jae is there and his look of amusement washes into something between shock and regret

“oh,,,,hey.”

you swallow, hiding the lock completely in your hand and trying to tell yourself to just act normal - like you guys are just clasmates - not friends, but not strangers

“hey, it,,,it’s funny right.”

you mean the bike, but jae’s tone of humor is gone. his eyes fixate on your hand and you see them do a small twitch, a habit he’s had since you knew him

“im,,,,about to drive back to campus. do you want a ride?”

of all the things in world you shouldn’t agree to, a one-on-one late night drive with your ex has to be up there

but you’re,,,,not in the mood to wander around looking for your stolen bike or any other way to get back to school

plus saying no,,,,would just seem like you were making things weird and you didn’t want to make things weird

so forcing the best smile you can you nod, “tha-that’d be great, but i hope it’s not a bother.”

jae shakes his head, the unkept bangs fall over his glasses and when he turns you take in the lines of his jaw and nose

since you’ve last seen him, he’s grown

and you were always charmed by his physical appearance, but now he wasn’t just cute - he was truly an adult 

with big shoulders and prominent angles that made something stir within you

something you pleaded with to calm down - to not cloud your better judgment 

jae’s car was familiar, it had belonged to his father when you were in high school and jae had stolen it once to drive you two to the city once,,,

you’d never made it - turning around halfway there because the sun was rising and instead stopping off the road to watch it 

he had held your hand back then, brought it up to his lips and kissed it 

he’d gotten grounded when he drove back, coming into school laughing about it at your locker

now, you were sitting beside him in the passenger seat and it was silent - pitch black outside aside from the flickering of stop lights and buildings

and you could hear your breathing, the beating of your heart and how it got just a bit faster when jae put his hand on the headrest of your seat while backing up out of the parking space

neither of you spoke, he didn’t even play music which was odd

it was horrible - suffocating

until finally you had had enough and leaned forward to press play on the car radio

“don’t-” jae began, but it was too late

the CD inside started playing - the sound of jae’s young voice speaking your name

“-this is a playlist just for you. it has all our songs on it, the one we kissed to and all the corny good stuff. the first one’s the one i wrote for you. don’t laugh at it, ok? you better not laugh.”

jae stopped it before the song could play, but you already knew what it was 

this was the playlist jae had made for you after you guys started dating. you’d given the CD back when you broke up,,,but why was he listening to it now?

you wanted to ask, but something kept you from it

“im sorry. this is awkward.” you whisper

“are you sorry that this situation is awkward or are you saying apologizing is awkward?”

you grimace at that, there he goes - always politicking always,,,saying what you wish he wouldn’t

jae seems to feel you tense and sighs

“sorry,,,,sorry,,,,i still haven’t learned to watch my mouth. but,,,,im sorry too. i wish,,,,,,,,we didn’t have to be like this.”

there’s pain in his voice and it almost breaks you - but you understand what he means

sitting back against the seat, you turn to face the window just because you don’t know what to say

you’re so scared of this fragile line you and jae are walking

because every moment with him feels like you’re re-living those good memories from before

but you’re also thinking about the moment you chose to abandon all that

jae doesn’t bother you, he seems to be in the same limbo of feelings too the whole drive back

but what’s weird is that when you pull into the parking lot, you both sit there in the car - not sure who should move first

“part of me regrets it.”

you breath and clench your teeth as you speak

jae’s eyes stay on the dashboard

“part of me regrets breaking up with you, because i did it so trivially - i just snapped under pressure and thought that you couldn’t give me what i wanted and jae -”

you feel his gaze finally settle on you

and his eyes aren’t those of the teenage boy you were in love with, they’re of someone matured and ready to be serious

“jae everything back then was so ,,,, fucked.”

you don’t even realize it, maybe because it’s the earth’s magnetic force or your own instincts as people, but you and jae are coming closer

till his strong hands have you in a hug, uncomfortable because of your positions in the car, but so inviting and warm

protective ,,,,, the kind of hug you needed back then but also the kind of hug you craved for even now

“i was still a kid, i didn’t know what to do. but ive grown, and i can be there now.”

his voice sounds deeper, closer against the shell of your ear and your grip on him tightens 

“have you been remembering ,,,,,, us?” you as with a shiver down your spine as jae nuzzles his face into your neck

“yes. i remember,,,,,,everything.”

that night, neither of you can go back to your dorms

you and jae walk the campus, still and untouched in the night and hold hands

you feel his long fingers entwine with yours and it’s embarrassing the thought that runs through your head

you’ve only just,,,,gotten close again - you can’t rush

and when you and jae talk,,,,,because years have passed and you’re not lost teens with too much adrenaline and misconceptions about the world you realize you’re both in places where,,,,,,,having each other

it would be nice. really nice

you fall asleep against his shoulder in the backseat of his car, his hoodie that he shrugs off is your blanket and nothing really happens but physical closeness and content

that your past is put to rest,,,,and you could find each other again

when you wake up, jae says he’s late for his class but he didn’t want to move and wake you

you poke him playfully, tell him that was dumb but jae just smiles and gropes around for his glasses on the car floor

he walks you to your dorm, and tells you to keep the hoodie

you walk a little bit up the stairs, just two or three before you’re at a height where you can lean over and kiss his forehead

and its,,,,,,,,,childish,,,,,giddiness that fills you two up even though you’re not kids anymore

the word dating doesn’t really come up till a couple of weeks after that, when jamie runs into you and jae at the cafe - jae is mocking one of the philosophers he has to read for class and you’ve got your legs thrown over his 

“sooooo you’re a couple now? honestly, you’re too good for jae!”

jamie comments, throwing an arm around you as she plops down at the table

she steals some of your coffee and jae rolls his eyes at her - asks her to let go of you, his significant other

and jamie just huffs, because she had you first

it’s a joke between friends, but you do have to put an end to it before someone gets some kind of food chucked at them

when jamie hops off to join kevin for studying, you look over at jae and smile

“so, it’s official - we gotta im your’s, you’re mine kinda thing?”

he grins, cheesy and the like and kisses your lips

“yep, better tell youngk to give up on that longtime crush he’s been having”

“oh hush, he doesn’t like me”

jae shakes his head, “i meant the one he’s had on me, obviously since im taken now.”

and don’t get me wrong, jae is still the sarcastic lil shit he’s always been - with a humor that borderlines annoying but that is still loveable

because he’s learned to scale it back, and he’s learned how to be a shoulder for you to lean on

just like you’re always ready to be there for him

whether it be supporting him at local band shows, wiping sweat off his face after a long set 

to helping him stay up and finish his philosophy papers - wikipedia articles and all

“those glasses make you look like a bug my dude”

youngk snarks one afternoon as you’re all eating lunch and jae untangles his arms from your waist to flick his best friend on the forehead

“hey, he’s a cute bug youngk - don’t be jealous”

you chime in, taking a bite of your food and lifting the chopsticks up again to feed jae

youngk makes a hacking noise at the affection, but both and jae stick your tongues out at him

you’re always surprised by the minimalism of jae’s dorm, just his bed, his desk, and his guitar 

even youngk has more than him, and you insist he decorate - give it some flavor

so jae hangs up a photo of you guys with tape and is like “i put up the most important photo i could find!”

you blush, but then you’re like “no, no we need one more.”

he tilts his head and you go “your mom. get a photo of her up there too you dweeb”

he  claps his hands together and goes “you’re totally right!”

sometimes he’ll call you petnames in korean and you’re like,,,tell me what it means or im bringing back the infamous chicken little jokes LOL

he’s so tall, that all his clothing has to be a size too large so it’ll be long enough

but this is great for you, endless baggy shirts and sweaters and flannels

and sweater paws that make jae fawn over you - or pout and go “give that back, i was gonna wear it to class!”

you and jamie are the first proud owners of night6 t-shirts

sungjin sometimes asks you if jae,,,,is like,,,,just like that 

and you’re like ?? what do you mean

and sungjin is like - is he just you know,,,,,,always talking

you: no there’s an off button, wanna see?

sungjin: please show me go

you: ok, here goes

and all you have to do is tap jae’s shoulder and wag with your finger for him to lean down

you kiss him, all cute and soft - leaving jae in a happy daze while throwing the peace sign up at sungjin who looks equally shocked and equally disappointed 

there’s a week where youngk goes away on a research trip with his fellow majors

and you and jae literally just turn the dorm into your own little apartment for the whole time, you never leave and you guys eat on youngk’s bed to avoid crumbs in jae’s

watching youtube video together, listening to jae write and practice, joking about how you guys have to wait past midnight to shower together 

it’s a week of just,,,,being domestic - and honestly you could get used to it,,,,

the last night you have “youngk free” as jae calls it, you’re laying beside jae and his hair is still slightly wet from his shower

he’s playing some game on his phone, arm still wrapped around you when you get that feeling in your stomach

and sit up, carefully removing the photographt of jae’s mother from his wall and placing it face down on his desk

“what’s up-”

he starts, but you throw a leg over his thighs and straddle his waist

jae’s eyes turn wide, and then haze over when you pull off his glasses and chuck his phone onto youngk’s bed

leaning in, jae taste faintly of mint and his large hand splays over your lower back 

you two fit together - and it’s like the temperature in the room climbs up ten degrees

jae sits up, you slide into his lap easily and there’s kissing, small sounds, and a lot of his hands everywhere

his body isn’t too muscular, it’s long and lean and he has the right amount of strength to support whatever you have for him 

and everything is close to perfect, but the small bumps of your noses and apologizes about marks left on necks just add to the overall naturality of being with him

“im blessed, im so blessed to have you”

is said somewhere afterwords, in the fall of bliss

and your heavy eyelids are kissed as you two fall asleep

youngk gets back early, and isn’t surprised to see you in the dorm collecting your things and taping the photo of jae’s mother back on the wall

you wave goodbye and when jae looks at youngk he grins “how was your trip?”

“just tell me you guys didnt’,,,,,not in my bed right?”

jae is not poetic when he talks, but he has a talent with lyrics and wonpil is sure some of his softer, more romantic ones are about you

jae refuses to acknowledge this, but the moment you’re around - sitting on his lap and playing with his hair or just giving him a kiss on the neck 

wonpil is sure what’s written on jae’s face is pure adoration 

you and jae debate on everything in a joking, couple kind of way but you do get competitive over some things

like which song is better or whose better at pokemon

and everyone thinks your twitter rants about each other are hilarious

you and jae can’t stay mad at each other for too long though - you both miss kissing each other more

jae is never amused at you asking him to get things off the top shelves in the libarary

but then again, you’re so freaking cute he does it anyway

“you’re mi amor”

“is that all the spanish you know?”

“i was born in argentina, but i didn’t really live there for too long - don’t sass me”

you and jae are voted cutest couple by the journal he sometimes writes for and youngk is like the votes are rigged but they’re not yall just too sweet to handle 

more college aus can be found:

by group: bangtan | vixx | got7 | nct | kard | monsta x | seventeen  gg specials: amber | momo | irene 

[actual-leia-organa]

5 Times He Watched Her Sleep

Hey guys! I wrote another little something for the House fandom, a quick little 5 times fic. Special thanks go to @queenraynajaymes for making me commit to publishing something by the end of January, to @fruit-lupe for always agreeing to read my works whilst still in progress, and a shout out to @geekhappens for inspiring me with her amazing fic - you make me want to be a better writer. 

I’ll also eventually be posting this on my FF.net account, but I also welcome feedback through tumblr!

Title: 5 Times He Watched Her Sleep Fandom: House, MD Summary: 5 times throughout their relationship that House has a chance to observe Cuddy asleep. Definite fluff and some AU. 

First time -

His first thought on waking was that he’d never touched such soft skin in his life.

His second was that a ringing phone was possibly the worst sound to wake up to.

Groaning softly and disentangling himself from the gorgeous undergrad in his bed, he did his best to not wake her whilst making it to the phone before it stopped ringing.

“Hello?” he near whispered into the phone, watching as the lithe figure of Lisa Cuddy rolled over in his bed, burying her face into his pillow and sighing softly.

He was only half listening to the voice on the other end, throwing in the occasional “uh huh” and “yeah” as he observed her in sleep. Her cheeks were flushed a soft pink, her long lashes curled where her eyes were gently closed. Her lips were slightly parted, her breathing soft. Her wild curls were spread around her, and he’d be inclined to describe them as a halo- were he that way inclined.

Suddenly the voice on the other end of the line was demanding, requesting he confirm a meeting with the Dean in… 20 minutes. House swallowed, a heavy weight forming in his gut.

“Sure, sure, I can get there by then.” He shot another look at the girl in his bed, regretful he would have to leave her to wake alone.

Hanging up the phone, he wandering around his room, collecting his clothes from where they’d fallen - or been thrown - the night before, and dressing in silence.

Before he left he ran a hand through her hair, smiling as she leant into his touch. As he pressed a soft kiss to her temple, her eyes softly opened.

“Hey,” her voice was heavy with sleep.

“Hey yourself.” House shot a quick glance at his watch, “I have to go, I have a meeting, but you sleep in, ok? I’ll call you this afternoon”

Cuddy nodded, pressing her face back into his pillow as she slipped back into sleep.

Grabbing a post-it from her desk, House scribbled a quick note:

Cuddy-

I’ll call you, this afternoon.

- H

Second time -

He couldn’t sleep. The pain in his newly mangled leg was like an animal, one with razor sharp teeth and jaws of steel, with a bite he could never escape. The so called ‘experts’, his ‘doctors’, the same ones who dismissed his pain, who missed the dead muscle, who left him a cripple, had started him on Vicodin. It left his thoughts clear but the pain was still there, would always be there, would be with him the rest of his days.

Unlike Stacy.

The thought was like a punch to the gut, even though he knew he’d been the one to not ask for her help, who distanced himself, who pushed her away.

He tossed his head again, trying to find comfort where there was none. Out of the corner of his eye he caught movement as Cuddy adjusted her blanket in her sleep, curled into the armchair Wilson had pushed into his bedroom to watch over him during the worst nights.

Cuddy. He couldn’t believe she had come to him, that she had helped him… that she had stayed. But there she was, curled into the old leather armchair, his afghan haphazardly thrown over her. She’d tied her unruly curls up, which made her look younger, and her eyelashes fluttered with REM sleep.

She’d cared for him all afternoon, coming into his darkened apartment and not letting his depression dampen her ferver. He’d been laid out on the couch, his crutches thrown across the room in a fit of frustration. She’d cleaned around him, doing his laundry and cooking enough food to last a week. She’d brought him the latest medical journals, even some case files, “if you feel up to it.”

She’d stayed for dinner, making sure he ate a decent amount, before offering to help him to bed. He was proud, too proud, but was also pleased when she stepped forward as he stumbled with the crutches. She walked with him to his room, brought him clean pajamas and stepped back, calmly waiting for him to ask for help when he needed. When he looked at her she stepped forward, letting him lean on her, helping him balance, all without a word.

As he pivoted around in bed, laying back against the cool fresh sheets, she pulled his comforter up and he grabbed her wrist, his pain-filled eyes meeting her cool grey gaze.  

“Stay?” his voice was soft, and Cuddy nearly missed the word. He spoke as if ashamed to ask, as if afraid to need.

“Of course I’ll stay,” her smile was gentle, with no pity in her eyes. House thought it was such a change, her just being there, a comforting force, so different to Stacy’s fretting, to Wilson’s frenetic neediness. She was soft, and gentle, and she calmed him despite the pain.

He closed his eyes, but sleep didn’t come. Instead he watched as she curled herself into the chair and pulled the blanket close. One arm fell out towards the bed and he moved across to capture her hand in his. It felt so warm, so right. But he also knew she deserves more, so much more than an angry cripple, and so he was content to watch her slip into a deep peaceful sleep.

Third time -

It’s 3:10pm, and House is taken aback when he storms into Cuddy’s office to find her absent. He’d checked her schedule - both personal and professional - and he fully expected to find her behind her desk, ready to roll her eyes at the procedure he’d burst in to ask for.

A slight snore pulled him back to the present, and he turned to find her stretched out on her couch, head propped against one of the throw cushions. Her mouth was slightly open, and a glass of water sat on the floor beside her- odds are because she’d been feeling ill again.

He gently pushed her legs back and sat beside her, watching her steady breathing. A soft smile appeared as he thought about the past week, and what the future would bring.

She needed the nap, after catching what she wrote off as “just a bug”. House knew better. She hadn’t kept her breakfast down for the past 4 days, and this was the third time he’s caught her napping.

“There’s nothing wrong with you that hasn’t been wrong with women since the beginning of time” had been his cryptic comment a few days earlier, but she’d brushed it off as a House-ism, not seeing the deeper message.

Leaning forward, he brushed a strand of hair from her face, pulling back as she stirred. Her long lashes fluttered before her eyes opened, the striking grey muted from sleep.

“Hey” he softly said, “you feeling ok?”

Cuddy nodded, slowly sitting up, her back propped against the arm of the sofa. “Still just getting over this bug, I’ll be ok”

“Cuddy…”

“It’s just a bug House, people get them. Don’t look for more than this is.”

“Because this is more than a bug, Cuddy! This is… this is big.”

“House…”

“Cuddy” he mocked back at her, making her meet his eyes. “It’s ok to be nervous. It’s ok to be afraid. But don’t pretend this is something else.”

“What do you want me to say, House? That I’m scared to admit this to myself in case it's not true? That I’m afraid I’ll get my hopes up only to lose it again? That I don’t want to say those words, because it's everything I’ve ever wanted?” Her eyes filled with tears at the confession.

“It’s ok Cuddy” House held out his arm, and she curled against him. “I’m nervous, afraid, everything, too. But don’t deny this to yourself.”

His hand gently rubbing her back soothed her back to near sleep, and House released her from his embrace so she could lie back on the couch.

As he pulled himself to a stand and made his way from the office, her sleepy voice brought him to a halt.

“House…” he turned towards her as she half opened her eyes, a smile playing on her lips, “I think I’m pregnant.”

House smiled at her in return. “I think so too. Enjoy your rest, I’ll see you tonight.”

He limped out, being sure to close the blinds as he went.

Fourth time -

House limped in his front door, pushing the door shut with his cane and hoping the resulting noise didn’t disturb Cuddy - she’d said nothing about going back to his place, but her luxury sedan parked outside was a dead giveaway.

He didn’t expect her to still be awake, it was the early hours of the morning, he’d finally solved his case, and was looking forward to spooning behind her and hearing her contented sigh, which he realised as he made it to his bedroom was not going to happen.

Sprawled under the haphazard covers, Cuddy was curled around his pillow, wearing one of his older graphic tees with a hand protectively on her second trimester baby bump.

He sat beside her, smiling as he watched her sleep, softly laying a hand on her ever-expanding stomach and feeling the gentle pressure from within.

He had been afraid, bordering on terrified, when her pregnancy was confirmed.

Afraid that he’d be a terrible father, that he’d follow in his own father’s footsteps and never know how to properly discipline, that Cuddy would finally wake up and realise he was a terrible choice to have a baby with.

But more than anything he was terrified that something would happen to the baby, and Cuddy would again be devastated. She’d been through so much, this was her dream, a baby of her own… a baby with him. And he would move heaven and earth for her, and the baby, to make it through this pregnancy.

She started regularly sleeping at his apartment early in the pregnancy, holding him close when she woke from nightmares of losing the baby. It wasn’t until after the 12 week scan, the line crossed, the simple words “everything looks good” sounding like magic to their ears, that Cuddy relaxed her nighttime hold on him.

But she didn’t stop coming over, hence why he now found her taking up most of her bed, but he couldn't be mad at her. She was so happy, glowing even in sleep. Her hair was back, pulled into a braid, exposing the soft skin of her neck. House lent forward and gently kissed the pulse point near her ear, smiling as she let out a soft moan and turned to him. Her eyes slowly opened, grey meeting blue, as she moved to kiss him.

Pulling away, she took in his appearance. “Solved your case?”

“Yeah,” he pulled back and started to toe off his shoes and socks, “so it would be nice if I could squeeze in there with you and the spawn.”

Cuddy smirked at his choice of endearment, slowly rolling herself back over to her own side. Her smirk became a full smile at the idea of even having her own side in House’s bed.

By the time she’d managed to re-situate herself House had changed into his pajamas and was climbing in next to her, turning onto his side and pulling Cuddy against him.

Pressing a kiss to her hair he heard the gentle sigh that meant she was slipping back into sleep, and he pulled her closer as her breathing slowed and she finally relaxed in his arms.

Fifth time -

A soft murmur came through the baby monitor on the nightstand, causing House to rouse from sleep, reaching across the bed for Cuddy but his hand meeting cold sheets.

“Cuddy?” he raised his head and checked the bathroom, but no light was on.

The noise came through the monitor again, the softest of snores, and House smiled. He knew where she was.

Slowly standing up from the bed, he made his way down the hall without his cane, holding the wall for support. At the second door on the left he turned, pushing the door open to see the room lit by the soft glow of a night light.

In the crib a tiny baby with a headful of dark hair fussed quietly, whilst Cuddy napped in the rocking chair in the corner.

House approached the crib first, laying a gentle hand on the baby’s chest but moving to pick him up when he fussed more, hoping to head it off before the baby started crying and woke his mother.

House gently shushed his son, holding him to his chest and watching Cuddy over the baby’s spiky black hair. She stirred slightly, and House decided he’d give her until the baby was settled before waking her and walking with her back to bed. As tired as she was with a newborn, she deserved a better night’s sleep than in a wooden chair.

She looked more relaxed than she’d been in the last few weeks, in the lead up to the birth and bringing the baby home- she confided in House once they were home that she couldn’t believe it had all happened, and she finally had a baby just down the hall.

The baby squirmed in House’s arms and let out the softest of squeals, but it was enough to cause Cuddy to stir again, her eyes on the verge of opening.

If asked Cuddy would probably say this was the worst she’d looked in a long time, a newborn taking up enough of her day that she was lucky to brush her teeth and hair let alone complete her usual beauty routine, whilst House would proclaim it was the best she’d ever looked, a pink flush to her cheeks and a new shine in her eyes. Just watching her sleep now was proof of that. Her pajamas had a milk stain on them, her hair was a wild mess, she was gently snoring, and House was adoring every inch of her. It was thanks to her he was currently standing with a baby in his arms, his son, something he had given up on long ago.

The baby rooted against his chest and let out another cry, and like that Cuddy was awake.

“House?” she looked up at him, slightly groggy from her quick nap.

“Hey sleepy,” he walked over to her and handed her the baby, “I think someone’s hungry.”

She smiled down at the baby in her arms, running a hand through his whisper soft hair and watching his bright blue eyes take in both his parents.

As she went to feed the baby, House lent in and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll see you back in bed?”

Cuddy nodded, her rapt attention on her precious little Benjamin Cuddy- House.

[caffeineivore]

And more

Title: Yuan Fen

Ship: R/J AU

Notes: Yuan Fen: Fateful coincidence; destiny which brings two people’s lives together at some point, often through astronomical odds. “It takes hundreds of rebirths to bring two persons to ride in the same boat; it takes a thousand eons to bring two persons to share the same pillow.” A concept related to karma in Chinese Buddism.

Rating: PG/PG13. May reach the PG13 end of the spectrum in this segment. *cough* 

Thanks again to @apsaraqueen for all the help!!! I am word-vomiting at this point now...

She’s slightly dishevelled when she meets John in the lobby, juggling purse and cell phone and trying to shrug on a jacket. “Sorry! I’d gotten a call from people back in New York, and lost track of time, and... oh, shit, your jacket’s still in my room! Do we have time to get it now?”

“Don’t worry about it,” John adroitly helps her into her jacket and smiles down at her, though his eyes are full of concern. “Is everything all right?”

“Oh, yeah. Peachy.” Certainly there’s some type of huge etiquette no-no in discussing her ex with her-- well, no, John wasn’t... This was not the time for that particular train of thought, not when she was about to face a busload of people, and...! Rachel rushes up the steps of the bus and takes her seat, and feels blue eyes glancing her way every few minutes even as he greets the group with his usual friendliness and introduces the activities for the day-- the last leg of their tour.  

If he’s at all put off by Rachel’s somewhat irritable and preoccupied demeanour, he says nothing of it, and is uncharacteristically quiet as he walks with her through their last destination of the day-- a massive garden filled with fantastical topiaries and blooming roses and perennials. It’s beautiful and lush, and he waits until her gait has slowed down from a pace to a slow walk before he asks her, again, if something was the matter.

Rachel pauses in front of a plot of tall white lilies that nearly reach her shoulders, and smirks wryly. “Well, nothing too important. If I were in New York, though, I’d probably be calling my friend Cali and the rest of the girls for a night of wine and junk food and bashing men. But no, nothing important.”

“Oh, dear. Whatever I did in stereotypical male ignorance and idiocy, I apologize,” John says somberly, and when she musters a smile and shakes her head as though to tell him that he didn’t do anything wrong, he gives her his usual teasing grin. “Well, that’s better, now isn’t it? You’re cute when you’re riled up, but prettier when you smile.”

Rachel had been told to smile far too many times before-- by asshole jocks in high school, by creepy men on the street, by Kade, even, during fancy, exhausting public events. But never before had it been said in a tone as though the speaker wanted her to smile for herself, rather than for him. She slowly turns to John, clears her throat. “Would you like to grab a drink with me tonight, somewhere? Or, wait, you have to go home to Ms Xu...”

“No, Ms Song’s there tonight,” John tells her, then digs in his bag for pen and a sheet of paper, scribbles down something in Chinese. “Okay. Here’s the name and address of a place I know that’s decent, if you’d like to go. You can just give this directly to a cab driver, and they’ll know it. We can meet up there.”

**

The bar’s located on a street in old town, in a quaint old building amidst what looked to be a quite-active night bazaar, and John is waiting at the door when she arrives, his hair shining bright under the lights of countless signs and red lanterns. Rachel had not been quite sure what type of bar it would be, and certainly had not brought anything too fancy to wear on the trip, and was therefore quite glad to see that he wore casual jeans and a soft blue t-shirt. She’d switched her hiking boots for Louboutins, though, and the added height brought the top of her head almost to his nose. 

“They do make cocktails, and you can also get western liquor here if you’d like-- Jack Daniels and Chivas Regal bottle service is popular with people looking to show off, but I’d recommend the wine, personally. Their house red is a local blend made from wild plums.” His eyes take in the sight of her, from the classic red lipstick to the lavender jade bangle on her wrist to the tops of her shoes, peeping out underneath her black jeans. “You’re really very beautiful.” 

“Thanks.” They get a table, and within minutes, two glasses of wine are placed in front of them, along with a tray of salty snacks. The wine is fruity but delicious, as promised, and Rachel lets the taste of it wash away the unpleasantness of earlier. 

“So, who is it that we’re drinking and bashing?” John asks lightly, taking a sip of his own wine. 

“My idiot ex,” Rachel tells him, after a few sips. “It’s so stereotypical it’s almost a joke. He’s the son of the other partner in my dad’s law firm-- was in his second year of law school when I started undergrad. You know the type-- sophisticated, good-looking, comes from money, plays and watches golf religiously every weekend, has a chauffeur who drives him around in a Bentley, can order a meal in a French restaurant with a snobby French accent... and a complete ass. We started dating my second year of law school, went steady until I finished, and then I found out, right after I took the bar, that he was sleeping with this yoga instructor on the side. So I kicked him to the curb. That was like three months ago, and now, out of the blue, he calls me. I actually had a ton of missed calls from him last night while I was at your place.”

Her glass is refilled, and she swallows more wine. “I call him back, thinking it’s something serious, because why would he be trying so hard to reach me while I’m out of the country, right? Nooo, he just wants me back.” She almost sets the glass down hard enough to slosh wine on the table, but stops herself at the last minute. “Not because he really cares about me one way or another, mind. But just because we’re suitable. Like I’m that sensible three-piece suit he can wear to all formal occasions even if he’d like to rock a biker jacket on his downtime. It’s bullshit. Calliope-- she’s my best friend in New York, we’d roomed together through all four years of undergrad-- would probably be making noises right now about handing some thug out of the ass end of the Bronx a suitcase of cash and letting him take care of business.”

“I see.” John frowns at his own barely-touched wineglass, then reaches over the table and takes her hands gently in his. In contrast to the cool jade against her wrist, his fingers are almost blissfully warm. “I don’t have to tell you that you deserve so much better. You know you do.” 

“I know. I told him to fuck off, more or less.” Rachel tries not to focus on the fact that his thumbs are rubbing soft circles into the backs of her hands. “I’ll still have to deal with him on a regular basis in New York, since he’s working in my father’s firm, but... I’ll never be involved with him in any other context, ever again.”

“You did the right thing. You deserve to be happy, and to do whatever makes you happy.” 

The look in his eyes is so intense that it almost sends a shiver down her spine, and Rachel looks at her half-finished second glass of wine, trying not to remember that it’s her last night here-- that while she was getting ready to come to this bar, she’d already gotten a text from the driver who’d be picking her up in the morning to take her to the train station so she could return to Beijing. There’s nothing and everything left to say, and that’s a concept far more scary, somehow, than being all alone in another country where she didn’t speak the language. It’s suddenly imperative to break the tension at their table, and she stands up, glancing at the dance floor at the other side of the bar. Some Chinese pop song is playing, and while she doesn’t know the words, it’s got a catchy rhythm. “Let’s go dance.”

He lets her pull him up, and they make their way through the crowd of people, but by the time they’re actually on the dance floor, the song is winding down and another, much-more-familiar one takes its place. Certainly, Rachel isn’t expecting a random club in China to be playing some throwback from her teenage years, but the opening chords of “She Will Be Loved” by Maroon 5 come through the speakers. 

It should be awkward, she thinks, even as his arms wrap around her waist and her head lands against his shoulder. A month ago, she didn’t even know of his existence. But it doesn’t feel awkward at all, and she clenches her hands around fistfuls of the shockingly soft fabric of his shirt even as she feels his cheek press against her hair. She turns her face slightly as they sway to the slow music, and the pulse in his neck is right there against her lips. It’s too quick for this slow song, just like hers, and this song is too short for them to be together like this. 

His breath stirs the hair at her temple even as Adam Levine’s voice fades off singing about not trying so hard to say goodbye, and he pulls back just enough to stare down into her face. “I should get you back to your hotel room.” His voice is even, but even in the dim lights, there’s a hint of anguish in his eyes which echoes her own. “You have a train to catch in the morning.”

**

But he doesn’t let go of her hand, even as he hails a cab. The ride back to the hotel takes all of five minutes, and he walks her inside. But when he would have finally taken a step back, she tightens her grip on his fingers, stares up at him through her eyelashes. “John.”

“Yes?”

“Your jacket is still up in my room. The one you loaned me, the other night.” Rachel doesn’t plan to lead him towards the elevator bay, but it’s as though her body is acting without any conscious thought from her brain at all. “You should come up and get it.”

The elevator door opens and she steps through, and even as his eyes kindle, now the hot blue of gas flame rather than cloudless sky, he still holds the open door button with one finger. “Rachel. I’m not... I’m not him.”

“I know.” She reaches for his hand even as her other one reaches up into the soft blond hair at the nape of his neck. “Thank God,” she whispers as she presses her lips to his even as the elevator doors slip shut. He only stills for a moment before his hand fists in her hair and his mouth crushes down on hers. 

By the time the elevator reaches her floor, his mouth is buried somewhere against her neck and her hands are reaching under the hem of his shirt and coming in contact with smooth, hot skin. Somehow they find themselves in her room, and nobody says anything about his jacket at all. They can barely stop kissing each other to drag off each other��s clothing, but somehow they manage. He lifts her off her feet, stepping around the haphazard piles of discarded clothing, and when she lands on the bed, her breath escapes in a sharp exhale. But neither of them say anything, because it’s only a few short hours before sunrise, and they can’t possibly be close enough. 

The first time is fast and hungry and a little desperate, and she comes so hard that she can barely draw in enough breath to say his name. The second time is slower, after a long shower where he washes her back, and the smell of her body wash is incredibly different on his skin. Her damp skin is chilled in the cool night air as he lifts away the towel, but not for long as his body covers hers and his fingers slide over every inch of her as though trying to memorize the way she feels. And sometime after the third time, exhausted, still tangled up with him, she falls deeply asleep.