#AND turns out they probably already sold it before making the announcement so it's fucking useless

[k8katdoodles]

I'm fucking pissed, this is bullshit

[tennessoui]

anyone remember the divorce lawyer au?

(first ficlet posted here, along with the explanation post) (1.5k)

“Of all the gin joints in the world, you walk into mine,” the very familiar and incredibly grating voice of Anakin Skywalker greets Obi-Wan mere moments after he settles into a seat at the end of the bar. 

“No,” Obi-Wan says automatically, though he isn’t quite sure what he’s protesting. It’s an instinctive sort of no. A plaintitive no. A for the love of all things holy, I cannot be expected to deal with this now as well sort of no. 

Even though, technically, Mr. Skywalker is right. Of all the damn gin joints in the world, he happened to walk into one already hosting Anakin.

“Well,” Anakin sounds considering now. He doesn’t particularly sound as if he’s planning on leaving. “I guess of all the dive bars in Vegas, you happened to walk into mine. But I’m pretty sure they sell gin here! Though I guess I don’t know how much gin needs to be sold at a bar before it’s classified as a gin joint.” Now his voice sounds even more considering. Closer too.

“What can I get you?” The bartender asks as she slides down closer to him. It’s not very loud in here, still relatively early and so not overly crowded, but she leans forward across the bartop as if having trouble hearing him.

Anakin sits down in the seat next to Obi-Wan rather aggressively, brushing their shoulders and thighs together. “You can put his drinks on my tab, thanks,” he announces. “We’re together.”

“We’re not together,” Obi-Wan tells her. “But yes, you can put my drinks under his tab. Much obliged. An old fashioned, thank you. A double. No cherry.”

“You got it,” the woman says, turning away to make his drink. 

Obi-Wan closes his eyes for a second to pray for patience before he turns to look at Anakin Skywalker.

He is just as beautiful as he was two weeks ago when he’d last stopped into Obi-Wan’s office, tearful, hungover bride in tow for a quick divorce before her plane ride back to Australia.

It isn’t fair.

“We could be together,” Anakin says. His eyes are dark, his head canted forward, his thigh still brushing Obi-Wan’s. “Just for the night.” “You know, I’ve always thought you were a lot less sober when you proposed to strangers,” Obi-Wan tells him drolly, accepting his drink from the bartender with a wave of his hand. “I’ve been picturing you absolutely sloshed stumbling down the aisle.”

“You’re not a stranger, Mr. Kenobi,” Anakin replies. “You’re my go-to divorce attorney.”

“Normal people do not have those,” Obi-Wan says, taking a sip of his drink. It’s strong at least, thank God.

“People get divorced all the time,” Anakin argues, leaning forward to rest his elbow on the bartop to look over at Obi-Wan. “You were the one that told me that divorce can be just as healthy as marriage.”

“Don’t remind me,” he mutters, taking another bigger sip. He really, really does not want to talk about marriage with Anakin Skywalker of all people. 

Yet somehow the words slip out of his mouth and off his tongue despite how much he does not want to talk about marriage with Anakin Skywalker. “How do you do it then?”

“Do what?” Guileless, innocent. Hell, he probably just has to blink wide blue eyes at his fuck of the night and they’d follow him down the aisle as quick as they can stumble.

“How do you—” he waves his hand and takes another sip of his drink. “Convince people to marry you. You’ve got a politician, a bride to be, who knows how many bridesmaids, a foreign dignitary, a man old enough to be your father, a veteran all under your belt. How are you dragging them all down the aisle? You can’t be—”

He cuts himself off. That good in bed, he’d been about to say. 

Anakin grins with his eyebrows raised like he knows it. “It depends,” he says. One finger traces over the countertop. The other hand falls to rest on Obi-Wan’s knee. “Sometimes we’re already in bed,” he murmurs, slow-like. “Sometimes we’re on our way there, in some dark corner booth and I’ve got my hands wrapped around her waist and she’s begging me to whisper dirty things into her ear, tell her what I’m gonna do to her. It’s sort of like marriage vows, you know? Dirty promises sound the same.”

He is far too handsome for his own good, Obi-Wan decides. If he were a little less attractive, he’d probably have a much harder time coaxing strangers down the aisle.

“I wouldn’t know,” Obi-Wan says stiffly, stopping Anakin’s hand from moving further up his leg. “I’ve never been married.”

The words are bitter; the wound is still bleeding. He downs his drink in one go and waves for another from the bartender. 

“You have a girlfriend though, don’t you?” Anakin’s nose wrinkles. “You’ll marry her probably. You’re the marrying type.”

Obi-Wan closes his eyes. “She’s not,” he says shortly. And then, to rip the bandage of the wound completely. “And she’s not my girlfriend anymore either.”

Anakin’s eyes go wide. “What?” “I asked. For her to marry me. And she said no.”

“She said no?” 

“While your disbelief is rather flattering, I’d like not to talk about it, thank you.”

“Why would she say no? To marrying you? Is she alright? Well, obviously not, but—I mean. I don’t understand. Or believe it.”

Obi-Wan’s lips thin, and he reaches into his pocket. “I assure you, if she’d said yes, she’d be wearing this right now and I would not be here.” 

He puts the ring box on the bar in between them and accepts a new drink from the bartender. Anakin looks down at the ring box silently.

“Well?” Obi-Wan asks. He doesn’t know what he wants Anakin to say. He’s sitting in the tatters of his longest relationship, ended because she did not want to marry him in the end and he could not live with that. And he is talking with a man who gets married and divorced more than  perhaps anyone else in the entire world. 

What could he possibly want to hear from Anakin Skywalker?

“‘M going to get you wasted,” Anakin says, and Obi-Wan figures that’s good enough.

—----------

“Marriage is important to me,” Obi-Wan slurs out countless hours later. They have migrated from the bar to a low-level booth, and Anakin has his arm curled around the top of it with his fingers playing with the ends of Obi-Wan’s hair. “I couldn’t com…pro…mise.” He sounds the word out carefully and deliberately. 

“You shouldn’t have to for something that’s important to you,” Anakin decides, and Obi-Wan nods. That’s what he thinks too. That’s why they’d broken up. That’s why Obi-Wan still has the ring.

“All sales final,” he quotes and rubs his hand over his beard. “What am I gonna do with it now?” 

“Give it to someone else,” Anakin suggests once Obi-Wan picks up the ring box again to look at it. “Someone who wants it.”

“Nobody wants it,” Obi-Wan says. That’s the problem.

The other problem is that his drink is gone. This is a very big problem and easy to solve because Anakin’s drink is right next to his empty glass, and Anakin will let him have his drink, Obi-Wan is sure of it. Anakin has been very lovely tonight.

“That’s my drink,” Anakin says. “Get your hands off it.”

“I’ll trade you for it,” Obi-Wan mumbles, gesturing to the ring box. Anakin stills completely.

“You…will?”

“Yes,” he decides. And then a thought occurs to him, terrible and mean and brutal. “Unless you don’t want to marry me either. But you want to marry everyone.” He scowls, though he thinks it may look more like a pout. “Don’t you want to marry me?”

Anakin’s hand carefully resumes its light stroking of Obi-Wan’s hair. “Yeah,” he says. His voice is rough. Obi-Wan likes the way it sounds. “Yeah, I do.”

“Good then,” Obi-Wan says and takes Anakin’s drink. After all, what’s Anakin’s is now his if they’re engaged to be married. “I’m sure you know where the closest chapel is. Though I’m quite disappointed so far.”

“Why?” Anakin’s face is awfully close to his. When did he move? “Aren’t I providing for you like a good husband should, baby? You’ve got my drink and everything.”

“I was told you’d put your hands on my waist and whisper dirty things into my ear,” Obi-Wan says. “And so far you’ve just been playing with my hair.” “I like your hair,” Anakin says. “And I don’t want to tell you what I’m thinking of doing to you. I think I just wanna show you.”

Obi-Wan blinks. His face is hot. Anakin is flushed all over too, eyes focused somehow despite the amount of drinks he’s had. His breath smells sweet, like the cocktail he’s been drinking for the last hour. Now Obi-Wan’s breath probably smells the same. “Well, I suppose tomorrow morning I won’t have to ask you if your latest marriage has been consummated.”

Anakin smirks. “No, you won’t,” he agrees. It’s a promise. 

[pastamansta]

🔥 Tim Burton (him as a person or his aesthetic, your choice!)

"Beetlejuice" (1988) reminds me a lot of another film I watched recently; "Tombstone" (1993). Sold by an aesthetic and a FANTASTIC performance from a side character, audiences were conned into loving a mediocre film. I'm not Lindsey Ellis, so don't expect me to talk about the cartoon.

"Batman" (1989) and its sequel is proof that Burton will not be giving up his aesthetic for God or money. Gotham is heavily disconnected from both the film and its source material, with little reason other than its director. There's a reason no one calls these "Keaton's Batmans," they call them "Burton's Batmans." Jack Nicholson is great as The Joker, but that's no hot take. The hot take is that Devito is too horny as The Penguin, and it makes me uncomfortable for a film that's already so sexual.

"Edward Scissorhands" (1990) is a bitter, bitter film where artist finally meets muse. Not, like, in the plot, but in the production. Depp and Burton were made for eachother... or at least that's what I'm supposed to think. This movie's just too messy, however, and can't decide where its focal point lies and leaves me wishing I had just watched "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" (2000) instead.

"Sleepy Hollow" (1999) leaves me, a fan of the original text, I know that's probably a weird thing to say, miffed, even if understanding. Outside of some pacing issues, it's a bold reimagining that feels like Burton attempting to get out of his comfort zone... but I just didn't need this story to be turned into an homage to B-horror. Go watch that Disney short, eh?

"Big Fish" (2003) is his best film. I am hardly qualified to speak on it, and even if I did, I would cry. So, you know, just go watch that shit.

"Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" (2005) is destined to be compared to "Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory" (1971), and why wouldn't it? In thirty-four years since the making of the original, not a single person worth listening to said "i need this done right," including Burton himself, which is why he tries to add so much, but no amount of additions changes the fact that he casted his muse instead of someone who could, you know, act like Wonka? So, you know, destined for failure and to be loved by everyone who won't watch movies made before 1987.

"Corpse Bride" (2005) is one of only two claymation films that Burton would actually direct, and he uses this time to steal a Jewish story and make it less Jewish. I don't like the ending or the songs and it feels like it could be cut in half and achieve the same effect.

"Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street" (2007) literally doesn't have the iconic opening number from the stage play??? Overall, there's rarely a pairing of source material and director that works as well as this one... If only I enjoyed the source material, eh? So dark, so bitter, so edgy, so... nothing. I never think about this movie. When I do, I think of Mrs. Lovett's dream sequence and remember the good old days of "Big Fish" (2003) when Burton liked to use color.

"Alice in Wonderland" (2010) is one of my guiltiest pleasures in all of film. It is the reason why every time Disney announces a live-action remake, my ears perk up. If all of them were as wild, unhinged, original, creative, and inspired as this one... Well, I think Disney might not be fucking bleeding money right now. No one ever even mentions that it's a sequel to the original animated film. A SEQUEL, not a remake. Sometime movie-goers surprise me with how little they think.

"Frankenweenie" (2012) blows. I don't care how unique it is, I do not like it.

"Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children" (2016) is one of the funniest remnants of the teen dystopia genre. Like, it hardly applies, but is trying SO HARD that it's unbelievable. Also, props to Mr. "Black People Aren't My Aesthetic" for casting Samuel L. Jackson as a dude who eats white babies. (I do not mean that.) Seriously, this is proof that Burton, as a modern director, should no longer be taken seriously.

"Dumbo" (2019) is AAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHA I FUCKING HATE THIS DUDE HOLY SHIT

If I didn't mention, I haven't seen it. Yes, I know I skipped some big ones. I may watch them one day, but I am in no rush.

[doubleddenden]

We're 5 months into 2022 as of May 22nd. It's time for another look at just how fucked we are by checking in on

The Timeline

Elon Musk buys Twitter to own the libs. Wait actually he changes his mind. Maybe actually yes. Wait. What about all the bots? Maybe no. Lots of people are jumping ship

Eurovision happened. Something about banana wolves and pussy salad? Idk man, but Ukraine won

Square Enix sold a bunch of IPs for... NFTs. Like Deus Ex and Tomb Raider. For. NFTs.

BTW NFTs and crypto fell hard recently

BTW BTW, one of the biggest NFT guys behind those ugly monkeys tried to make a dating site for themselves, then called it off because of too many dudes

Speaking of dating, Dead By Daylight is making a dating sim called DBD Hooked on You, made by the same people that made the KFC dating sim. Now you can date your favorite serial killers and be the "I can fix him" girl you've always wanted to be

Chip n Dale Rescue Rangers came back in the weirdest possible way. Look aesthetics aside, I mean it when I say weird. Like Ugly Sonic makes an appearance weird. Like two characters got together that had no business getting together weird. Like Chip n Dale not sounding like Chip n Dale weird.

You know that bird that was in Lion King? Zazu? Yeah his species is going extinct. I thought it was a toucan or something but nah, thats a Yellow Billed Horn Bill, and climate change is wiping them out.

MCR is back- again! This time Measles didn't come with them

Unfortunately Monkeypox did. Yeah turns out it's was around before in 2003 or so, even 2021. Do some googling but try not to panic. There are treatments from the looks of things so we're already better off than we were with Covid, but educate yourselves on the matter to be safe, and don't brush off warnings.

Fairly Odd Parents has a live action Paramount+ series where Timmy leaves very 2d Cosmo and Wanda to some very not 2d and live kids when he goes off to college or something idk. Btw, Vicky works at the school now. Btw btw, Vicky has a crush on- go ahead and guess- no seriously try it you'll never get it- it's Crocker. Twitchy ass FAIRY god PARENTS ass ear on his neck ass Crocker. Yeah she was 16 during the regular show and he was still middle aged and yes this did come out of nowhere, why do you ask?

Digimon Survive survived development hell and is actually coming out in like 2 months, and seems like it might be a VN with Tactical RPG elements and a karma system- oh and teens will probably die, most definitely

Avatar actually put out a trailer for its new movie. No no not the fun one with the bald kid or buff tomboy- the one with blue people that have sex with their hair

Warner Bros really weren't joking when they decided to make a co-op Smash clone of characters like Batman, Arya Stark, Jake the Dog, and Ultra Instinct Shaggy. It's real. I swear I saw it. I stg Batman and UI Shaggy really fought against Bugs Bunny and fucking Arya Stark. I wish I was lying.

Kingdom Hearts 4 is announced, and Sora has gone down from a size 32 clown shoe to a size 13 as he steps into the most disturbingly realistic world in the franchise yet.

Oh and this was a couple of months back, but Robert Pattison and Zoë Kravitz were interviewed by a Vtuber named LaPlus (La+?) Darkness from the Japanese side of Hololive, where she asked him how he used the bathroom in the Batman suit, and he gave a fun answer. He actually looked happy

And to end it on a somewhat bittersweet note. Scrat finally got the nut. That fucked up squirrel from Ice Age that caused several natural disasters, broke the laws of physics, broke EARTH- he finally. Finally got his nut. His struggle is over.

Until we meet again

[mrssimply]

15th: Rain

In my little experience about fandom, there are phases: the fix-it phase (which comes first generally, in an attempt to heal the damage made by the source material), then the canon compliant-different POV fics, then the branching-from-canon AUs, the canon divergent AUs, the what ifs AUs and finally, the crossover and tropes AUs.

And I belive each fandom and pairing need at least one coffee AU (that we got here courtesy of Danypooh80), one bookshop or flower shop AU, and one university AU. And since the last two don't exist for Kerry/V I decided to do it!

You can find the prompt list here.

Every fic will be posted on my AO3 Account here.

Please, enjoy the softness :D That one is t-rated.

It’s raining, which always brings a strange atmosphere over Night City. Things get calmer, as calm as they can be in such a mastodon of wires, metal and rust. To V, it means less business, but it’s fine because he was getting late on accounts and the management of the shop’s social media pages. 

He’s trying to decide between two fonts for his next announcement about the dried flower crowns,  a huge hit of the previous fall, when a customer stumbles in with a curse. He stops right on the threshold to look back at the downpour with a weary sigh.

“Great, just fuckin’ great,” he mutters before looking around, like he just noticed he came into a flower shop. V can’t really see his expression since he appears in profile to him, and the stranger is wearing a huge pair of glasses, like a headband over his eyes. Still, this face looks familiar and V is already racking his brain trying to make the connection. 

When the man finally turns, it hits V like a punch to the gut. The cyberware around his throat gives him away, even if it’s partially hidden under a dove gray turtleneck, and if not that then the telltale chrome lines on his cheeks would. This is Kerry Eurodyne, the famous rockerboy, the last one if you believed some screamsheets, the guy with the twenty albums, nearly all platinum, and billions of records sold internationally. He’s also a pure NC product, and every citizen’s wet dream, even at his age.

“Welcome to Misty’s Flower Shop,” V says automatically, a sentence that’s been ingrained in his brain since he started working here two years ago. Today he’s glad for it because the alternative would have been a very awkward silence.

The rockstar eyes V suspiciously, probably trying to determine if he’s about to turn into a crazy fanboy or not, so the shopkeeper forces himself not to gape and act as naturally as possible.

He lets the celebrity walk around the tiny shop for half a minute, but it’s obvious Eurodyne ended up in the shop to take shelter from the rain first and foremost. V wonders how he ended up walking through Little China, since the young man thought famous people went everywhere by cars or AV.

“Can I help you?” V asks when he can’t bear the silence one more minute.

The rocker chuckles nervously and glances up at him. The glasses are lightly tinted, allowing V a glimpse of eyes he knows are blue. They look sheepish.

“Not really I…”

“Got caught in the rain?” V finishes and the man nods. Another ten painfully awkward seconds before the florist straightens. “Do you want coffee? Tea?”

Eurodyne seems surprised by the offer, and a flash of suspicion zaps through his gaze. V holds his ground, trying to look like having a celebrity in his shop is no big deal. It’s not even his shop, it’s his friend’s shop, she is the real floral artist, he’s just helping her for some money while he figures out his life.

Again, the rocker mumbles a curse that sounds like a “fuck it” and comes closer.

“Coffee would be great. Actually ran away from a meeting, and they didn’t even offer me some, so really the last time I had any was this morning, I mean, when I woke up, so maybe four hours ago but let me tell you, that’s too long.”

V blinks in the following silence. That was…

“Shit,” the famous singer says with a wry smile before running his hands over his face. “Anyway, yes please and thank you.”

V turns stiffly toward the back room, managing to throw a weird smile at the man before practically running. He bites the inside of his cheek hard not to laugh because this was so strange! Who would have thought Kerry Eurodyne, who could perform in front of entire arenas and work the public like a pro, would be a nervous mess in his daily life? V has seen interviews, he’s not like this on screen for interviews either, so maybe it’s just a weird day for him.

He loses his smile once he realizes he doesn’t have coffee. He used to drink it but hanging out with Misty means he slowly shifted to tea, never really noticing until he couldn’t drink a drop of the grinded beans beverage without having to run for the bathroom.

Bracing himself for more awkwardness, he makes tea and brings two cups with the teapot. Surprisingly, Eurodyne is still there, looking around with curiosity. He’s still wearing his glasses but he’s pushed them down his nose to look at some blue dahlias. They match his eyes, V thinks, standing like a gonk with the tray.

He puts everything on the little counter with the laptop, and the noise startles the rocker.

“I don’t have coffee, sorry.”

“Why did you offer some, then?”

“I forgot I don’t drink it anymore.”

Eurodyne sniffs the aroma of the tea and pulls a face, which makes V scowl internally. This is not Caliente. The singer still takes the tea, tries to drink it right away and burns his tongue before V has the time to warn him.

It’s too much, V laughs out loud, and gets glared at.

“Sorry, it’s just, the face you made was so cute, like you were outraged the tea dared to burn you,” V explains before turning away to laugh some more. It takes him a minute to stifle his chuckles, and ten more seconds before he dares looking at the celebrity again. 

He’s watching him with the ghost of a smile on his lips, something amused, and V freezes because here he is, the charismatic singer. 

“Sorry,” he repeats, suddenly sobering up.

Eurodyne doesn’t say anything, just takes back the tea to blow on it. He frowns, tries to put it back to his lips and discovers it’s still too hot so he puts it back on the trail with a frustrated huff.

“This your shop?” he asks suddenly.

“Nope. Friend of mine. I’m just working for her, she is the real deal.”

Kerry nods, like he thought as much and V should feel offended but he can’t. Something that feels strangely like fondness is spreading through him.

“Do you grow them? The flowers?”

“A friend does, yeah. Another one. Misty, that’s the shop owner, makes the bouquets.”

“So you’re not Misty.”

“Nope,” V pops the P with a frown, not getting where this is going.

“No, ‘cause, with the name of the shop and you inside I thought maybe you were Misty.”

Apparently, they’re back on awkward conversation, if they ever left.

“No, that’s my friend… as I said.”

Eurodyne snorts and takes off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Fuck, man, it’s just… It’s been such a week, promise I’m not usually this… like that,” he finishes lamely. 

“It’s alright, it’s not everyday I got a celebrity in the shop.”

The rocker winces then shrugs.

“Want an autograph?”

V knows the probably cool thing would be to say no, act like it’s not big deal, but the fourteen years old inside of him is absolutely screaming at him to say yes.

“Sure.”

Eurodyne gives him a wry smile while V gives him a flyer about the shop special event of last week and a sharpie.

“So… What’s your name.”

“V.”

“V? Like, the letter V?”

“Well, only my closest friends get to know my full name…” He tells the rockstar without heat, but firmly enough, like he does with everyone else. The man looks at him for a long second, a glimpse of something interested in his gaze, before he shrugs again.

“V it is.”

He pushes back the flyers toward the young shopkeeper.

“I heard it sells well,” he adds, tapping the paper he just signed with the pen.

“Really?” V blurts before registering how rude it sounded, “I mean…”

But Eurodyne just smiles, charming and confident.

“Really,” he rumbles, leaning on his elbows against the counter. “So, V,” he continues, and the letter rolls in his mouth like thick dark chocolate. It makes the young man shivers, “got anything that says ‘sorry I cheated on you?’”

It brings V back on earth very fast.

“Huh… Yeah?”

“Then please, the biggest you can make.”

When he glances at the shopkeeper, his face appears drawn, tired, for a moment he looks his age. V observes him for a few seconds more before retreating to the back of the shop. Misty might be the artist, but she’s been teaching V the ropes, since his soul searching is taking longer than anticipated.

He starts composing the bouquet following her teachings, and adding his own touch, just like she always asks him to do. 

He brings his creation back to the rocker, who is apparently on the holo with someone.

“Fuck, I said sorry how many times now? What do you want from me, huh?”

He ignores V when he put the gigantic bouquet on the counter and frowns again. “No, Lou — Lets talk this through, you know I didn’t — shit,” he concludes as the call disconnects. 

He sighs, turns back to V and his eyes fall on the enormous flower composition.

“Yep, that ought to do it. I thought yellow was code for cheating in the flower language?” he comments, nudging a mimosa with the tip of his finger.

“We don’t do that here, it’s not the eighteenth century anymore,” V replies with an exasperated expression. It makes the rocker snorts and smile.

“True, how much?”

V rings it, and just as he finishes, a cab pulls in front of the shop. It’s a Delamain, so there is no doubt it’s for his unusual client.

“Thanks V,” Eurodyne says, taking the bouquet without much care and getting out of the shop.

-

Later, V looks up the news about Eurodyne, and sure enough, he’s been spotted with a man, a new one, and apparently his wife is fed up with that. He tells Misty about it the next time she comes with new arrangements, and she listens with a mysterious smile.

“The rain led him here, interesting,” she concludes and V refrains from pointing out that the rain didn’t do anything, it’s all a coincidence, a funny one. He shuts up because he knows it’s no use with her and sighs internally before going back to the accounts. He still hasn’t finished them.

He glances at the flyer pinned on the wall to his left, the one with a “Thanks for the tea, V,” messily scrawled over a very famous signature.

-

Imagine his surprise when about a week later, Eurodyne is back in his shop, right before closing. It’s another rainy day so V glares at the universe for playing that game on him with Misty.

“Welcome to Misty’s Flower Shop,” he says and Eurodyne gives him a wry smile.

“Had to come late, avoid the fans, ya know,” he says as an apology for getting in right as V was turning the sign to closed. Once in the shop, he takes his glasses off and wow, he looks like shit.

It must be apparent on V’s expression, because the celebrity winces before rubbing at his nape.

“Yeah,” he concurs.

They hovers near the entrance, and V realizes Eurodyne is smaller than him, not by a lot but enough it’s noticeable. He’s also once again drenched.

“Did you come on foot?”

“Yeah I… Couldn’t remember the name, had to retrace my steps. It started raining again.”

“Oh.”

The pause stretches as V gets a bit lost in his eyes. They are bloodshot with lack of sleep or something else but mostly, they look so, so sad. It pulls at V’s heart in an unexpected way.

“You want Co — Tea. You want tea?”

Eurodyne smirks and nods, and V suddenly remember how to function. When he comes back with the tea, the rocker has his head caught in his hands, elbows on the counter, taking deep breaths.

“You ok?” V asks gently.

Eurodynes raises his head and gives him a small smile.

“You got anything that says ‘please don’t leave me’?”

V’s gaze saddens and he nods silently.

“This for your wife or… The guy.”

“Ah, someone did his homework,” the rocker says, “it’s for Louise. My wife.”

“‘k”

V takes his time making the bouquet with what’s left in the shop at this hour. He really tries to put everything he knows to make one beautiful arrangement, but he’s still nervous when he comes out to give it to the musician.

“Sorry, there isn’t much left at this hour… Misty is bringing new things tomorrow.”

“It’s fine, it’s beautiful, V,” Eurodyne says tiredly. He blows on the tea slowly, having learned his lesson, and takes a sip.

“This really doesn’t taste like much.”

“It will grow on you,” V finds himself saying before biting his tongue because this is exactly what Misty used to say, and the rocker looks as skeptical as V felt at the time.

Silence stretches between them, and V can’t really keep the question to himself.

“Do you love her, your wife?”

It’s notably known that Eurodyne prefers men, though he’s been with a few women. When he announced his marriage to Louise Nordin, a lot of people were surprised, some became even accusatory and said he was a coward trying to fit in like they hadn’t ever heard about bisexuality. But it’s also widely known that this marriage has been tanking for a year or so.

Eurodyne sighs and rakes a hand through his hair.

“Yeah. I do. Used to. I think.” It’s clearly not an enthusiastic endorsement. “Was in a weird place when I married her. Thought I wanted to try the piquet fence and two point five children, ya know?”

V doesn’t, but he nods anyway.

“It was pleasant for a while. Then it became fucking boring. I do stupid shit when I’m bored and well, here we are.”

“She is asking for divorce?”

“Not yet… Soon, probably.”

“And you want to stay with her?”

Eurodyne looks at him, bites his lips.

“I want to be able to say that I tried,” he confesses, and it seems to surprise him more than V, how honest he was in his answer.

He rubs his eyes and chuckles dryly.

“Shit, why am I telling you all this? You’ll probably sell it to the media. How much?” he snaps, pointing to the floral arrangement, suddenly angry and V fumbles with the laptop to ring the bouquet, too surprised to try and protest.

Eurodyne looks outside, at the rain still pouring. There is no cab waiting. He gets out with the bouquet, not looking at V, and disappears into the night.

-

Frantically for the next week, V refreshes the gossip pages and puts an alert on Kerry Eurodyne, convinced the rocker got mugged on his way back home. But apparently not, because nothing pops and V is pretty sure it would make the headline of most screamsheets if he was dead.

He finds himself listening to old records at home while he tries to finish the accounts.

-

Half a month later, V knows that Louise asked for divorce, it’s been on every gossip page, just like the wedding had at the time. He is reading a very intrusive article and feeling outraged on Kerry's behalf as he waits for water to boil. His angry muttering gets interrupted when the chime of the entrance indicates a new customer. V frowns, he was about sure he turned the sign to closed.

When he walks in the shop proper, he’s half surprised, and half not when he discovers it’s Eurodyne again: it was raining the whole day.

He looks dejected and small in a too big hoodie, but offers a wry smile at V.

“Hey,” he says softly, like they’ve known each other for years and not just met twice. Something warm grows inside V’s heart that makes him clear his throat.

“Tea?”

“Sure.”

Once the herbal beverage is cooling down between them, Eurodyne glances around, his eyes stopping on new flowers Misty brought back yesterday.

“She sure knows how to choose them,” the rocker comments like he knows anything about flowers, but V agrees anyway.

“I'm surprised it works, your little shop. It’s far from the usual spots and who still buys flower nowaday?”

“Lost superstars, apparently.”

“I’m not lost,” he snaps back, prompting V to raise placating hands.

“I mean, the first time, you were lost, right?”

Eurodyne blinks, and then seems to relax.

“Maybe.”

He takes his cup, brings his hands around to warm them and looks at the tea with half lowered lids, like he can find some answers in the perfumed liquid.

“She is taking everything, ya know. Being a real bitch, and my lawyer isn’t super enthusiastic about the fact I’m happy to let her have it. He never is, I think he doesn’t like me.”

V can’t help but snort at his petulant tone.

“That’s terrible,” he says and the amused tone makes Eurodyne glare at him, but it’s half hearted.

“Wanna know the worst? Now that it’s official, I actually feel relieved.”

“Means it was the right thing to do,” V replies, quoting Misty.

“Being such an asshole my wife dumped me?”

“Er — I meant…” But the rocker is smiling mischievously.

“I get it, thanks, V,” he sighs, looks around once more before focusing abc on his tea. “Johnny would probably laugh and say I had it coming, trying to play the corpo drone.”

“Johnny Silverhand?”

“Ha, you’re a real fan. Bit young, no? Who was it? Dad, mom?”

“Nah, my best-friend’s mom. She is a true rocker at heart. She hated that her son preferred spanish larzpop.”

Eurodyne winces like he agrees.

"We would side against him, she and I. They could talk for hours about music, but neither could hold a tune.”

“What happened?” Eurodyne asks after a moment of silence.

“Huh?”

“You’re using the past tense, what happened?”

V feels a wave of anxious heat spread through him, and he fidgets as the old wound reopens.

“He… He died.”

The rocker doesn’t say sorry, but his eyes clouds with shared pain. That's something they got in common, best friend’s lost at the hand of Arasaka. The story spills out of V before he's made the conscious choice.

“We were mercs for a while. Got a gig to steal something from Arasaka. We botched it, he didn’t make it and I had to lie low so… Misty was his girlfriend, I thought about leaving NC but she convinced me to stay. We… We’ve been helping each other with the grief,” he concludes, looking down.

Eurodynes shifts, brings a hand to V’s shoulders.

“It gets better, promise,” he says and the young man finds himself on the verge of tears but he nods.

“What was his name?”

“Jackie,” V mumbles, and it’s suddenly too much. Shakily, he asks: “You… You needed anything?”

“Yeah," the musicnabreplies softly after a moment of silence, "Something that says ‘I’m sorry’?”

V retreats to the backroom and work on the bouquet at the same time he tries to manage his emotions. When he comes back, Eurodyne is gone, and only left behind another note “put it on my bill, for Johnny and Jackie” scribbled on a post-it note.

-

After that encounter, V sort of slides into a contemplative mood. He feels something shift inside of him. It's strange, like shedding a heavy coat he's been wearing since Jackie's death. Seeing his face, Misty insists he should take a trip, that a change of air and seeing some friends would do him some good. 

The shop keeper is reluctant to do it, even if he can tell she's right. What if Kerry Eurodyne came back while he was away? 

The truth is, V can't stop thinking about him, not the superstar, but the man. This person he's started calling just Kerry in his mind. This man who shared his grief, who seemed to understand it viceraly…

But the celebrity doesn't come back and Misty, tired of hearing him sigh mornfully, tells him to take two weeks while she does spring cleaning. Since it's a process involving not just brooms, but purification rituals V is really suspicious of, he accepts.

Two weeks later, when V comes back feeling refreshed and strangely hopeful, Misty informs him that he had a visit while he was gone.

V’s heart pounds in his chest at her enigmatic smile.

“Said he was coming to settle his debt and asked about you. He left his phone number.” She explains before sliding a Caliente receipt at him. On it is a number, barely decipherable, smudged by what V would bet is rainwater, and a name: Kerry Eurodyne.

-

A year later.

V is humming a tune under his breath as he cleans the workshop at the back. He just finished the accounts for the month and decided a little bit of cleaning would help him clear his mind from the debilitating excel lines he worked on.

Distractedly, he puts water to boil, and two cups beside it. He’s just finished pouring the water into the teapot when the door chimes. With a grin, he goes back upfront, expression widening when he sees it’s indeed Kerry.

He then snorts when he sees the rockerboy is wet like a drowned cat, and looking supremely annoyed by that fact. He is shaking his hands to get rid of the excessive water, cursing a blue streak and moaning about his leather vest being wet.

The moment he spots V, though, his face transforms into a big smile and he saunters to the counter.

“Hey you.”

“Hey,” V breathes back in answer, heart racing  joyfully in his chest and cheeks flushing sweetly. He has it bad.

Kerry makes a small noise of happiness when he spots the tea, taking his cup and smelling the subtle aroma with delight.

“Jasmine tea, my favorite.”

“Yeah,” V replies, still trying to rewire his brain into working properly. He’s used to it, though. Seeing Kerry sort of makes him short circuit every time like he’s fourteen and having his first crush. A part of him hopes it won’t ever stop being like this.

“You were right, ya know?” Kerry declares, “It grew on me.”

V's smile blooms bigger and he chuckles.

“I’ll tell Misty she converted another poor unsuspecting soul.”

“Don’t think Misty had much to do with this, it was your dashing smile that did the heavy lifting.”

V blushes harder under Kerry’s mischievous smile, then the rocker leans across the counter to catch V’s cute pink apron and pull him closer.

“I have a request,” he whispers against the young shopkeeper's lips.

“Yeah?"

“Yeah. Something that says ‘I love you’?”

V grins and closes the slim distance between their mouths, kissing him fully.

[sara-joseph]

Day count blog 3!!!

22 June, 2023, and i just finished counting how many hours left till they are back. i was reading through the older day count blogs, and guess what, that shit was so comforting. I may have changed a tad bit, but I'm still the same. Festa 2023 was a huge success, and i loved every second of it. 893 days more, we'll wait.

27th June, 2023. This is amazing, I almost started crying when I heard the maknae line was at yoongi's Seoul concert. And there's an encore, obvi. Wow. But I just keep telling myself, let's sacrifice everything this year, so I can make it in 2025. Like everything, the concert screenings, the book, the merch, the late night talks, EVERYTHING. anywaysss, 888 days more, we'll wait.

2nd July,2023. JJK1 is cominggggg. Ahhhhhhh csushs8anahausnsbsb. I swear to god- this man dropped the schedule plan, and his abs are already out. He came live to promote his solo single, and he promoted everything except Seven, like the beautiful wall(um iykyk) his new lip piercing and all. Hobis more turned one and his put up a story. 883 days more, we'll wait.

7th july, 2023 WHAT THE FUCK. concept pics+short clip for seven is out, the abs are out, my brain's not working, my mouth wont close, and my eyes have fallen out. all i need to know right now is, which jackassed dumbfucked mf said that Seven is a summer song? like honestly though. there is an explicit version ffs- also, my bitch of a sister has snitched abut the "guy" contacts saved, and the phone is goneee. 878 days more, we'll wait.

13th July 2023. SEVEN COMES OUT TOMORROW. Han So Hee and Jk are playing a coupe who are like arguing in the MV teaser! its my godfather's 50th birthday tomorrow, and we're skipping school for a one day resort trip. alsooo, it was army day on 9th, and beyond the story is out. 872 days more, we'll wait.

23rd july, 2023. seven is outttt. and dude fr reated an explicit version only for one line, but it changes the whole meaning, i swear. i had my last sports day at shs, and ended up crying for atleast 30 mins. future me, always remember, team chandu forever. idk what this is but, g, the cl is kinda attractive. tae is cartiers ambassador, and the one pic they posted, the one necklace of 22 lakhs was sold out, and the website crashed. slept at 4:30am last night, talking tea about others with rp. 862 days more, we'll wait.

2nd august, 2023. if i haven't mentioned before, i've decided to move on from this childish grudge against Sc. yea, im immature. Rr and Sr, Tkb, Ynb are probably gonna come around nov, idkk. tae's album is announced. jk breaaking more records, his personal tiktok s out, after he posted the seven challenge with kim mingyu from svt, it was initialy named "Ian" which was on the draft list for his stage names before debut, he quickly changed it to "letjungcook" after getting embarrassed that we'll tease him. even his tiktok account broke the record for the most number of followers within an hour or something, which was actually held by bts.852 days more, we'll wait.

7th aug, 2023. its funny how much emotions have changeed. the past 3 days were the encore concerts of D-DAY, min yoongi. kook was the guest for the first day, performing Max's part from burn, then after yoongi left, he performed seven. we finally got rapper jimin tony montana after 7 years of trending hashtags and begging. the, on the last day rm came and performed an unreleased song as a gift and rocked a buzz cut, to which all of us thought he was gonna enlist soon. highllight of day 3, YOONGI'S 7 TATTOO IS FUCKING OUT!!!!! its on his left shoulder, right where he was injured. and bam, another shocker, Jin AND jhope attended the concert. FUCK MY LIFE. all that even caused panic in the subway in sk, apparently. and right when everyone was soaring with this joy, today yoongi has announced his enlistment. WOW. 847 days more, we'll wait.

22nd August, 2023. Wow, it's been days since I updated this. It's been a hectic time, the past 2 weeks, future me, if you're reading this, and if you've finished boards 23-24 , please remember that this was a shit load of fucking bullcrap. And yea, I'm here, at 2:37am, swooning over the leads having their first kiss in ep 3 after 5 almost kisses, and a sex dream. Anyways, 832 days more, we'll wait.

24th August, 2023. Yea, bout the drama, they ended up hooking up atleast 50 times after, then cutting it off, then back together. Yup, nevertheless. I finished that, and stayed up doing my 2 months overdue geography project, and watched red, white and royal blue till 4:20 am, slept soon after and woke up 10 mins later to turn off my first alarm for the morning. 97 liners meet up again, tae is giving out mv's like it's free air, and we are lovin this shit. 830 days more, we'll wait.

4th sep, 2023. My sleep schedule is fucking messed up. Like literally, it 3:12am rn, and I'm still planning on making a whole Spotify playlist before going to sleep. And, my exam starts day after. How much more stupid can i genuinely get. Tae with the fan is soo cuteee. And jk's birthday just got over and I saw jimins "jk birthday post" seconds after it was posted, and had a mental debate with myself if I could call To only to fangirl along and technically walk into exposing my fucking insta, AGAIN. Chikkappa is flying in on 11th nov, and I can't waittt. 819 days more, and we'll fucking wait.

11th sep, 2023. my exam tomorrow jus got cancelled. rm's bday is tomorrow, layoVer is more of a "SLAYoVer". and jk was snapped smoking. the other post- 812 days more, we'll wait.

16th sep, 2023. halfway through mid terms, vmin drought is over. jk posted smoke challenge on tiktok. jin be postin random clipssss 807 days more, we'll wait.

19th sep, 2023. Yoongi's enlistment date is out and he's leaving day after. his last live was so emotional. i think im going through my baby army phase again by watching all the old army edits and compilations on youtube. jk for dazed and vogue korea is the death of me, but it dosen't surpass seven concept photos and CK. i have officially fucked up my half yearly examination. 804 days more, we'll wait.

29th/30th sep? 2023, half an hour into 30th September. Body to body to body to body to body. Jungkook. Wow. He keeps coming out with such hits for real tho. My birthday shopping is doneee. I never thought I would get a fucking strapless dress, but um okay ig, since mom picked it herself. Jimin for Tiffany, and I was just re-watching 2018 bbmas and the host had no clue what BTS's fanbase is. 793 days more, we'll wait.

4th oct, 2023. jk was live an hour ago, v posted with jimin and jk, rm posted. everyone except jin, hobi and yoongi in the military were seen today. jungkook is basically on the ARMY side of tiktok. 4 days to my birthday and JJK1 is coming on nov 3rd. 789 days more, we'll wait.

21st Oct, 2023. My sweet 16 was like okok ig. My life is like genuinely fucked right now. Boards are preponed, pre boards are in 11 weeks, timetable is up, and I've been fighting with mum since yesterday non stop. Also, my family is like completely broken, and I'm definitely the cause for that. Not to remember but it's her birthday today, and ik I'm not obliged to wish her, but don't know why I wished through her sister. Kid Laroi and Shawn Mendes are featured on golden, jimin made a cameo in Vicnic, jimin is havin a fanmeet a while later and Rm is in the UK for some reason. Jk also attended the Ck event at Japan. 772 days more, we'll wait.

12th nov, 2023. Wow- so much has happened. Golden is out, it screams party jk and lovesick jk at the same time. V and jn turning up at jk's house is never not funny. My mom just finished screwing me cause I took pics in a bar that are giving complete gay, and I don't even feel bad tbh. Chikkappa is coming tomorrow morning.750 days more, we'll wait.

4th Dec,2024. It's like 12:06am rn, and i have missed a whole month of this. Life is genuinely fucked up at this point. I have my phone taken away and I'm like actually studying now. We leave for church this week and chikkappa has been here for almost a month now. Jk, jimin, v and rm are going to the military together AND v is joining for some crime special forces. Jk and jimin are going to be trained under jin. I dread the next 3 months of my life, and that is probably going to be the time i do this next. Also, YTC Busan has been out for almost a month and reethu akka has still not made time to watch together.728 days more, we'll wait.

16th dec,2023. Jk and jimin left on 12th and V and RM left on 11th. WE GOT AN OT7 PICTURE!!!! FUCK YES. and all I want for Christmas is you by Mariah Carey had been topping holiday charts every year on itunes for THE PAST 29 YEARS, and just when it was going to become 30, BTS decided to leave for military, making us all emo sad bitches who will dethrone all I want for Christmas is you and make it on top one with Spring day. Losing my sanity is an understatement for my lufe right now. I'm graduating from this school tomorrow, and emotions are all over. 716 days more, we'll wait.

[finelinevogue]

Can we get some more brother!harry?

I really enjoyed your piece where he caught her smoking ❤️

of course you can!! (rip if your name is natalia) hope this is what you wanted;

Natalia.

Beautiful name to juxtapose a horrible excuse of a human being.

Harry was never that great when it came to choosing his girlfriends, but this one was by far the worst. Bekka had been bad, because she had been cheating on Harry with her best friends dad. India was just so toxic, to the point where she’d ask Harry why he wasn’t mad with her over the most trivial things as if she wanted him to be mad. Daya was ok, but she wanted different things to what Harry wanted and so they ended up in a massive argument and ending things quicker than they started. Natalia though, wow. She was something else and that wasn’t a compliment.

You don’t know whether it was just because she targeted you especially, but she was just a downright cruel person. You could easily tell her intentions with your brother were not good. She was a plain ol’ gold digger, evident from the credit card that Harry leant her and she spent so much on it the bank had to call Harry to ask him to authorise that he was aware of the amount of money being spent. She bought a car with his card. A fucking car. Harry was too blinded by her beauty and her experience that he was oblivious to her witchy behaviour towards you. It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to tell him either, it was more that he didn’t care enough.

“No Harry. No.” You argued with him, standing in the middle of the kitchen as he was busy washing the rest of the dishes in the sink. It was just the two of you home at the moment, because Gemma and Anne were spending the weekend at an exclusive spa in Cheshire, so you didn’t understand how there were so many dishes.

“Y/N, it’s not an option. You’re not staying at home by yourself.” Harry spoke sternly back to you, letting out his frustration by vigorously scrubbing the dishes.

“I’m literally 17 - 18 in like 3 weeks. I’m more than capable of staying home.” You stomped your foot to the ground like a child.

“And I don’t care. You’re coming to lunch whether you want to or not.” Harry finished the last plate and dries his hands on the towel next to the sink, before throwing it over to you.

“But she’ll be there.”

“She’s my girlfriend, so you’ll nice to her.”

“If she’s nice to me, then yeah.” You rolled your eyes and walked over to the sink to start drying the dishes that Harry just cleaned.

“ Y/N, I swear to God.” Harry groaned in frustration, tugging a stressful hand through his hair. “Can you at least pretend to be happy for me for once?”

“Gee Harry, i’m just so happy to be going out to lunch with you and your girlfriend!” You put on the biggest grin as your sarcasm practically dripped from your tongue.

“Stop being a spoilt little shit and finish those dishes. We’re leaving in 20.” Harry spoke harshly, before leaving the room with a heavy strop to his step. It left you to blink back the tears that you couldn’t help that Natalia was ruining your whole relationship with your brother.

You and Harry used to be so tight nit, now it would be a miracle if he spent a day with you per month. Natalia had come along 5 months ago and she had completely turned Harry’s life around for the worst, only Harry was too ignorant to see that. Anne had come home multiple times to find you crying because Harry had cancelled on you, again, or Natalia had said something that had really hurt. Normally you were okay with taking hate, but Natalia made it somehow worse than that. Even if Anne or Gemma tried to talk Harry about the damage all this was causing you it would always be the same response;

“She just wants attention.”

The restaurant was very pretty.

It was one that you and Harry used to go to all the time, when there was no girlfriend around. It sold the best pastries and life-changing eggs on toast. The food was always delicious and the staff were so completely lovely. You were glad to be coming here, making you feel more comfortable than you would if you went to a expensive fancy restaurant instead. This little restaurant, named ‘Lemon Puffs’ after their infamous lemon, cream and pastry puffs, made you feel safe and happy.

“Remember to just be nice.” Harry spoke as you both approached the table that Natalia was already sat at. She was too busy on her phone to realise you were even here.

“If she plays nice then yeah.” You bit back.

“Y/N just stop being petty, y’pissing me off now.” Harry argued. “Whine like a bitch later. I don’t need it today.”

You stopped talking after that, not having anything else to say to him. He’d made it very clear that you were only here because he didn’t trust you at home by yourself, but by the same token wanted you quiet because he didn’t trust you enough to speak nicely. Harry hugged and kissed Natalia like he hadn’t just seen her last night and then sat down opposite to her, leaving you to sit next to Harry because you sure as hell weren’t sitting next to her. Natalia didn’t even make the effort to hug you or shake hands, in fact you barely got a simple hello.

“You alright, baby?” Natalia asked, twirling her hand into Harry’s from across the table. Disgusting.

“Yeah i’m good. This one’s a pain in my arse, as always.” Even with his joking tone, you knew he was being somewhat serious and that really messed with you.

“Typical.” Natalia rolled her eyes and tutted her tongue, not hesitating to use the opportunity to be mean to you. Harry thought she was merely playing along with his words, but you new otherwise.

“You know what you want yet?” Harry asked as he pulled his own attention towards the menu. You didn’t need to look at the menu, as being here so many times has allowed you to discover the perfect order.

“I think i’m just going to get the salad, but without the chicken, cheese or cucumber.” She answered, sipping on the water she must’ve already ordered whilst waiting for you both.

“So just lettuce?” You asked, not meaning for it to be a condescending question and yet she took it that way anyways.

“Is there something wrong with that, Y/N?” She asked, being really harsh in the way she spoke your name - as if the syllables actually caused her pain to speak.

“N-no I was just—”

“Didn’t think so.” She snapped and turned away from you to look back towards Harry, with her shit-eating grin that didn’t fool you. Harry kicked you leg under the table too, not appreciating the way you were speaking to Natalia. He didn’t even think about the way his girlfriend was speaking to you though. As usual.

“I’ll probably get the salad too.” Harry nodded his head and you shook your head as he spoke. Harry would never normally get a salad. Like, that’s so Kardashian of him. Harry, whenever he came here with you, always ordered a cheese and pickle panini, with extra crunchy pickles, a portion of chips and some halloumi fries too. Oh and then a cake for pudding. He wouldn’t have gone for a boring salad. Fucking Natalia was ruining him and you hated to have a front row seat of it.

“Not the usual then?” You tried to joke with him, but he was clearly still pissed off with you for being… you.

“Why, are you?” He asked quizzically.

“Obviously.” You smiled, which made Harry smile for a split second before Natalia pulled him away from you. Your smile disappeared and a frown settled in, knowing it would stay there for a long time.

“Babe, I am here too you know?” Natalia joked, bur you could see the anger and jealousy behind her eyes. If looked could kill you’d be ten feet under, twenty times over by now.

“Sorry, yeah.” Harry cleared his throat and paid closer attention to her.

Lunch went by slowly.

Natalia scoffed when she heard your order; poached eggs on toast with three pieces of crispy bacon on the side, a portion of chips and a mint iced tea. Oh and a cake for pudding, but you’d come to that later. Natalia ate her lettuce as Harry eat his salad as you ate your eggs on toast with bacon and chips. You loved the food, hated the company and couldn’t make up your mind whether you loved or hated being here. Natalia and Harry talked throughout lunch, leaving you out of all their conversations. The only time Harry spoke to you was when he asked whether your food was okay, eyeing it up as if he wanted to make love to it and send his salad to the nearest dumpster.

“Was everything alright for you?” Paul, the owner of the business and dude in charge of the eggs asked you when all your plates were empty as Harry’s growling stomach.

“Lovely, thank you.” Harry responded gratefully.

“Perfect.” You smiled as you handed your dirty plate to Paul.

“It was a bit plain.” Natalia moved her plate away from her in disgust and Paul put on his best customer smile, apologising for that before leaving to go and ring up the bill.

“Okay i’m just going to go for a quick wee before I pay.” Harry announced, getting up from the table to go to the loo.

“Okay babe. Don’t be too long.” She called out and then it was left just you and her.

“Well this was nice.” You tried to be nice, as Harry told you to, and start a meant conversation with your arch enemy. Kill ‘em with kindness - that was Harry’s slogan wasn’t it?

“If you hadn’t have been here then yeah.” She turned her nose up at you.

“Look,” you began, wanting her to understand something, “whatever i’ve done to upset you and make you hate me, i’m sorry. Just, I don’t want you to dislike me and I know that Harry really likes you so I want us to be able to get along.”

“Listen, Y/N,” there it was again - your name spoken with dripping venom, “I don’t want to get along with you. You make me sick. You are such a baby to Harry and you’re needy, which means I don’t get to spend time with my boyfriend—”

“Don’t get to spend time with him?” You had to laugh at that. Apart from today, you’d seen Harry maybe a total of 2 hours this whole week and it was Saturday. “You’re practically attached at the hip.”

“Not enough. Harry needs to keep away from you, you only bring him trouble.”

“I’m his fucking sister.” You shouted quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace for the rest of the customers.

“Not an excuse. Look Y/N, I understand that you are quite lonely and don’t have many friends? Maybe you should consider that’s for a very good reason?” She rhetorically asked you and that made you sit back a bit. She was pulling apart your insecurities now and exposing them to find the most painful parts, so she could watch you suffer with only the curse of her words.

“It’s not like that.” You tried to convince yourself more than her, tears in your eyes over something so hurtful to you.

“No? ‘Cause I think that you aren’t the kind of person anyone wants around, including Harry.” She stood up dusted herself off as he noticed Harry walk back over to the table, smiling as if she hadn’t just shot his sister in the heart.

Her words stung more than a scorpions tale, and yes unfortunately you knew what that felt like. Natalia was right. You were alone, friendless and just trouble. There was a reason that you were all of this and Natalia had hit the nail right on the head with the reason why. You thought of your friends, his they always disappeared and left you and now you sit in the canteen alone or hang out only with yourself on the weekends. You think to Gemma and Anne going away for the weekend, not inviting you because it was age restrictive but you still couldn’t help but think there was a more pressing reason than that. Then you think of Harry and how he was fed up of you. He couldn’t be more resentful of you if he tried. You wanted to be a good friend, a good daughter and most importantly a good sister, but it was so blindingly obvious that you weren’t. You were never going to be.

You stood up from the table too, quickly wiping away a tear from your face before anyone could notice but you didn’t care to see if anyone was actually watching. Harry kissed Natalia and then walked over to the cashier to pay the bill. You noticed Paul and Harry talking and so you walked out of the restaurant and towards the car, still tears in your eyes. You needed to be strong for yourself though, especially because nobody else was going to be.

You stood with you handle to the door of the car waited for Harry to come and unlock it. You heard high heels before the car was unlocked, unfortunately.

“Excuse me, but I ride front.” Natalia spat at you, removing your hand from the door and chivvying you to the back of the car instead.

“You’re coming with us?” You asked, your heart aching that little bit more. You didn’t want to spend another minute in her presence and yet she would now probably spend the rest of the week until your mum and sister came back.

“Ye—”

“No she’s not.” Harry walked out of the restaurant and over to the car, standing in between the both of you but a little more towards you.

“Babe? What do you mean?” Natalia asked, a little bit shocked at his tone with her.

“Firstly dont babe me. Secondly, get your hand off my car. Thirdly, don’t ever come near me or my sister ever again.” Harry ordered angrily. You’d never seen him this angry before. You stood behind him, afraid of what was about to go down.

“What has she said to you, because—”

“She’s my sister and she’s got a name. Y/N didn’t tell me anything. Lemon Puffs, however, has eyes and ears everywhere and it’s amazing the stories you hear when you’re stood at the cashier or next to someone at the urinals.” Harry accused Natalia and she went hot red in the face, embarrassed that this conversation was actually happening.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No? Maybe this will jog your memory. ‘I think you aren’t the kind of person anyone wants around, including Harry.’” Harry raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest confrontationally. Guarding and protecting you. You felt safe.

“Wha— You think I would say that?” Natalia asked, pretending to be offended by the accusation.

“I don’t know, let’s ask Y/N shall we? Y/N, did Natalia say that to you?” Harry asked, turning to look at you with hope in his eyes, but also sorriness for everything that’s happened. You could see it all behind his eyes and you wanted to squeeze him tight to accept his apology, because you loved him and you needed him.

“Y-yes.” You answered, looking down so you didn’t have to make eye contact with Natalia.

“Harry you can’t possibly believe her.” Natalia laughed, but there was heavy insecurity in her tone.

“I trust her more than anyone. More than you. I trust Y/N with my life.” Harry back answered, taking no more bullshit from his ex-girlfriend. “We’re done Natalia. Okay? I don’t want to see you ever again. What you’ve said and done to my sister is unforgivable and I don’t want someone like you in my life.”

“You were a dick too.” You added quietly behind him and he just turned round to smile and wink at you.

“So what? That’s it?” Natalia asked, dumbfounded.

“Bye Natalia.” Harry walked around to the drivers seat and you to the passenger side. He stopped before opening the door though, wanting to say one last thing. “The bill was split in half by the way. Paul’s just inside waiting for you to pay.”

With that, you both got in the car, laughing at Natalia’s reaction and just everything. Apologises were made and promises of no relationships until you two had built back up yours were sworn. It would take time, but Harry was willing to prove that he was a good brother and you were always going to be someone he wanted around.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Going Back Home

Summary: Claire never thought she would be back in the town she grew up in. But after her fiancé broke off their engagement, leaving her 5 months pregnant and alone she found herself calling Frankie Morales in the middle of the night, one of her childhood friends who insisted that she booked the next flight out. Trying to fix her life with a little help from her friends she would find out soon that going back would be the best decision she ever made.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Claire Beck

wordcount: 3.1k

Warnings: more or less unplanned pregnancy, break up, mentions of sexual encounters

A/N: I am a weak weak person so here it is, a chaptered fic. I will try to update this weekly, but no promises. Rating will go up later. I'm attempting slow burn. Let's see how slow lol Let me know what you think. Reblogs are, as always, appreciated 💙

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Even Though most of her happiest memories were connected with this town, the town she spent most of her life in, Claire never thought she actually would be back here. And certainly not pregnant and all by herself.

It wasn’t that she had been unhappy here. Claire just always wanted something… bigger. Something more. Something exciting. After her parents died and most of her friends moved away, there was nothing holding her back. Well, that wasn’t true. Frankie and Santiago were there. But only when they weren’t overseas or god knows where, which left her with her dream of being a journalist in a small town where she had no chance to ever make it.

She still remembered Santi’s face when she announced that it was her turn to leave just before they were about to be gone for months again. She had gotten a job in New York and thought for days about what to do until she took the job. That was eight years ago and they hadn’t seen each other in person since then.

Yet when she called Frankie three days ago in tears, it was like no time had passed. She wanted to call Santiago first, but she knew him. If she had told him what happened to her he would have gotten into his car and gotten to her, no matter if it took 3 straight days. No, she had called Frankie. He had listened to her for hours until he made her promise to book the next flight out.

When the fuck did her life become such a shit show?

Only a week ago, she had the dream job, was engaged and 5 months pregnant.

Claire was happy. Until her fiance came back from a work trip and suddenly announced that he wanted nothing to do with the child and moved out within days, leaving her on her own. Not even his phone number was working and she wasn’t gonna show up at his work. She wasn’t that desperate. She should have seen it coming. John never planned to have kids. But when Clarie found out that she was pregnant he had already asked her to marry him and maybe he was too proud to end the engagement back then. Thinking back maybe this was the reason he stayed. Because a part of him wanted to spend his life with her. They didn’t fight. He just moved out, told her that he would take care financially of her and the child, but that he didn’t want to be a father.

The first days she was just numb. Trying to wrap her mind around the fact that the man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with, left her while she was pregnant with a child they didn’t plan but that she loved without a doubt. That was what kept her going. Her little bean. Claire would do anything to protect her little girl.

The guys to this day called her bean. She found herself thinking more of them since John left. Even without seeing them in the last years, they still stayed in contact. Not a week went by where she didn’t receive a letter. They had a group chat that was only used when they were at home and the bachelor was on. Cause fuck did they all hate that show but they watched it anyways.

Claire was okay with the whole suddenly being on her own thing, until she felt her baby move for the first time and turned in her bed to wake her fiance, finding the side empty and cold. For one tiny moment, she had forgotten that she was alone in a city where she had only a couple of friends who were his friends rather than hers. She had always had a hard time finding friends. That probably wouldn’t change.

Sucking her bottom lip in, she rested one hand on her belly as she waited for her luggage to arrive. She slept almost through the entire flight. Claire had gotten rid of the last eight years of her life in the last 48 hours. She wanted to start fresh. She needed a fresh start. Even if she had no idea how to deal with all of this on her own.

A woman next to her helped her get her suitcases on the cart, noticing that Claire was on her own. Pushing the cart through security she saw Frankie as soon as the door opened and next to him Ben, Will and Santiago who all smiled at her, while she felt the first tears escaping her eyes.

She had met Ben and Will only a couple times, they were living an hour away, but they became part of the group immediately. Once upon a time her childhood best friend, Leah, was in that group too. Claire hadn’t thought of Leah in a long time. She had died in a car accident almost 12 years ago.

Arms pulled her in a warm embrace and even after years of not seeing each other for such a long time, she still noticed Frankie’s scent.

“We got you,” he whispered, kissing her hair. She sobbed once before she was pulled into Santi’s arms.

“Look at you,” he smiled before he looked down at her belly.

“And look at you?” he smiled and leaned down.

“Hello, this is your favorite Uncle speaking,” he winked, bending down to speak directly to her belly, making her chuckle.

“Oh please, we all know I’m gonna be the favorite, hey bean,” Will hugged her.

“Don’t listen to them baby girl, we know they're all gonna spoil you rotten,” she grinned, letting Ben kiss her cheek.

“So you’re staying?” Frankie asked and you nodded.

“I already called some realtors. I wanna get this over as quickly as possible. Already sold everything back in New York,” Claire said, looking at the two men who formed most of her teenage years.

“Okay. Let’s get you out of this airport first. You okay to stay with Frankie? He has the biggest house,” Santiago asked, pushing the cart as you slowly walked towards the exit with Ben’s arm around her shoulder.

“Uh… I don’t wanna impose. I could just take a room…”

“Fuck no. Stay at my place. It’s my Pa’s old ranch. I’m renovating it.”

“What? No way!” she said surprised but Frankie only nodded.

“Yeah after Liz and South America I needed something to keep me busy. Also needed more space for Elena,” he explained. A small smile sneaked to Claire’s face.

“I still can’t believe you’re a dad Frankie.”

“Can’t believe you gonna be a mom. Fuck we’re really adults now, huh?” he winked and Claire sighed.

“Certainly didn’t plan it that way. Or planned it at all,” she said sadly before she shook her head as if to get rid of the sad thoughts clouding her mind.

“I meant it, Claire. We got you. We are bored most times anyways.”

“Hey speak for yourself, Fish. I got a business,” Santi said.

“Yeah. Yeah. Me too. But after work you’re either drunk or after some pussy so?” Ben grinned, making her chuckle.

“So still no ladies in your life, boys?” Claire asked as they reached what definitely was Frankie’s truck. It had his company name on it. “Morales gardening”

“Nope. But now that you’re here we could finally….” Will started only for Claire to look away in disgust, making them all laugh.

“You ready to become a Daddy, Will?” she asked, her hands both on her belly.

“Uhm… of course?” he answered and she chuckled.

“That’s what I thought,” she patted his cheek.

“Come on. Let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted,” Frankie said and opened the door for her.

“We’ll see you tomorrow for the BBQ,” they all waved. She waved back, letting Frankie help her inside before he closed the door behind her and hopped into the driver’s seat.

“BBQ?” she asked.

“Can’t blame the folks from wanting to welcome you, bean,” he winked.

“What folks?”

“Ya know. Folks. You gonna see,” he looked at Claire. He felt better now that she was here. Frankie had missed her these last years, the couple of calls throughout hadn’t nearly been enough. And when she called two days ago in tears… He would have gotten the chopper and flown over but he couldn’t risk it. He had to be on good behaviour to be able to keep seeing his daughter.

“I missed you, Francisco,” she whispered.

“Missed you too, Bean.”

The sun was already setting when Frankie drove down a familiar path. Claire had spent countless days on this ranch when she was younger.

“How is your Dad doing?” she asked softly and Frankie sighed as he killed the engine in front of the house.

“I fucking hate that I can’t take care of him on my own, but he’s hanging in there.”

“I’d like to visit him if you’re okay with that,” she reached over squeezing his hand and he looked at her with a small smile.

“I bet he would love that.”

“And I’m sure he would have wanted it this way, Francisco. You know your dad. He wouldn’t have wanted you to drop everything for him. Don’t be too hard on yourself,” she said quietly.

“Damn I really missed you Bean,” he shook his head.

“Missed you too,” she let her head fall against his shoulder.

Claire didn’t really have eyes for the house, all she wanted was to go to sleep.

“I finished the guest room this morning for you,” Frankie said, setting one of her suitcases down as he opened the door.

“Please tell me you didn’t work overnight to finish this,” she sighed looking at him. He was rubbing the back of his head, pulling the cap he was always wearing down and avoiding her eyes.

Knowingly she shook her head, but couldn’t help the smile sneaking to her face.

“I won’t say it. But please don’t touch the walls, they might still be wet,” he said and she chuckled.

“Okay. Bathroom is over there. The shower isn’t working yet but you’re welcome to use mine. Will is coming over to take a look and make this one work. Other than that if you need anything just ask. Until you found a place this is your home.”

“You really didn’t have to do this, Frankie,” she said quietly, feeling overwhelmed by all of this. So many things had changed in such a short amount of time for her and she only now seemed to realize that she was indeed about to be a single mom.

“I wanted to. You’re… You don’t deserve to be treated like this. So let us help you, okay?” he said softly and she nodded but avoided his eyes.

“Okay. Go to sleep. My room is down the hallway if you need anything,” he stepped closer, kissing her forehead and for one tiny moment, she felt like the 15 year old teenager again who was crushing on Frankie Morales.

“Good night, Francisco,” she smiled.

“Good night, bean,” he whispered before he turned around and closed the door behind him.

Claire looked around, in awe of the room, the bed looking so inviting to her. Sighing she walked over to the window, knowing she would be able to see the whole property during the day. Crossing her arms in front of her she closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of nature that she had no idea she had missed living in the city for all these years. She felt a fluttering in her belly, her hand wandering down to feel a kick.

“We’ll be happy here, I promise,” she vowed, rubbing over her belly.

She didn’t want to disturb Frankie, even though she could hear the TV running so she just washed herself at the sink before she put her Pajamas on and sat down on the bed. She would unpack tomorrow. For now she had to sleep.

The sun wasn’t even up when Claire woke up. She turned in bed, propping herself up so she could look out the window and watch the sunrise. She had to make a plan. A plan that included finding a house, a doctor and help. Though help would be her smallest problem. She already looked at houses in the area and it didn’t look good. If she had more time she would buy the house just down this road, but there was no way the house would be ready before her due date. She would ask Santi for help. He had a lot of connections through his business. Though Frankie too. Claire knew that he had a little gardening company since he lost his pilot’s license. He never really talked about it, but then again, they didn’t talk that much. She knew that he had some problems with drugs in the past, but that he has been clean for almost two years and was doing better. She also knew that there was a lot more to this story then he had told her. Maybe they would have time to talk. To really talk. Groaning to herself, her quiet and peaceful morning was interrupted by her bladder. Time to start the day.

For a minute she wondered if she could risk sneaking into Frankie’s room to take a shower when she heard music playing. Grabbing her bathrobe and toiletries she opened the door and walked down. Now being really awake she had time to take in the house. It seemed like there still was a lot to do. The walls were still unpainted, the floors still old, though she could see he already started with the floor the closer she got to the kitchen.

Frankie was sitting at the kitchen island, a cup of coffee in front of him as the radio quietly played in the background. He had a serious case of bed hair and she smiled to herself. He hadn’t noticed her yet and she found herself thinking back to all the times she had thought that maybe there was something more in between them than friendship. And maybe there was at one point a long time ago. But that was before he joined the military. She might be selfish for it, but she couldn’t be in a relationship where her partner was gone all the time. She needed someone to be there. Even Though there had been times in the past she had found herself asking if maybe she should have risked it.

Instead she had slept with Santiago.

Yeah, that was a big fuck up. Well it was also a pretty good fuck but it was just once and they definitely were better off as friends. She still didn’t know if Frankie knew. Not that she had to explain herself. Frankie always knew what effect he had on the women around him, and he sure as hell took advantage of it. And now she felt nothing more than love for him. As a friend, nothing more.

“Good Morning,” she said quietly and Frankie turned his head, yawning at her.

Chuckling she walked over taking in the kitchen, setting her toiletries down.

“You weren’t kidding when you say you were still renovating,” she sat down next to him. He got up from his seat walking over to fix her a mug of tea.

“Still hooked on Strawberry tea, I hope?” he asked and she nodded, surprised that he remembered.

“Yeah. Though the kitchen and living room are supposed to be finished by the end of next week. So sorry for the noise in the next couple days,” he walked over and set down the mug of tea in front of her.

“Hey it’s your house. I’m just thankful you let me stay.”

“Of course. Couldn’t let you stay in the dumpster motel in this town,” he winked. She took a sip of the tea and it was perfect.

“So what are you planning for today?” he asked.

“I probably should start looking into houses. I’m kind of on a timetable here,” she rested one hand on her belly and Frankie followed her movement.

“Yeah. I think Pope already called someone for some houses. It’s not looking good.”

“Yeah I thought so. Everything I found on the internet was in really bad shape,” she sighed.

“It’s gonna work out. And if you don’t find something, you’re welcome to stay. The place is big enough,” he shrugged and Claire laughed quietly.

“Yeah I bet you can’t wait to live with a hormonal pregnant woman and then with a newborn,” she joked.

“I lived with Pope. Nothing can be worse and…”

“And?” she asked.

“I already lived with a hormonal pregnant woman. It’s not that bad,” he shrugged with a small smile. She looked at him with a small smile on her face.

“You say that now. Wait till I’m craving your mug cake at 3am now that I’m living with you,” she joked. Frankie laughed.

“Wow I haven’t had one of those in at least 10 years.”

“Well then it’s about time.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, looking at Claire. She looked more relaxed today, like she had a good night’s sleep and he was thankful he put in an overnight to finish the guest room for her. She deserved to relax. When she told him that she not only was pregnant but dumped by her fiance Frankie was furious, yet at the same time he already decided that he would take care of her and help her with everything she needed. It was the least he could do.

Even though they grew apart in the last years, she still was one of his best friends.

“Okay. I’m gonna go take a shower. I got to drive out to check on a project. You gonna be okay here for a while?” Frankie asked. Claire nodded, grabbing her mug of tea.

“Just tell me when you’re going out so I can take a shower,” she said.

“Thank you, Frankie,” she whispered when she stopped next to him and softly kissed his cheek, before she walked down the hallway. Frankie looked after her with a soft smile before he got up to get ready to head out.

Next chapter

[atlafan]

Wrecked - One Shot

a/n: this is slightly inspired by the wilds because I watched that recently, but it’s in no way as messed up or sad. psychologist/therapist!Harry is detective Nikki Reese’s ex’s best friend. They end up on the same cruise, and the two end up going overboard due to a freak hurricane. What happens while they’re stranded? Well, you’ll have to read to find out! Feedback and reblogs are super helpful! I really want to know what you all think of this one!!! (not proofread) You can support me here if you’re able!

Warnings: a lot of angst, a little fluff, and some smut. TW: trauma/dealing with trauma (Nikki is an SVU detective, so some things of that nature are brought up, but not in graphic detail)

Words: 14K

Pairing: Harry x OC

It was supposed to be a cruise, a ten-day cruise around the Caribbean to help clear her head. Well, it was originally an engagement present to herself and her ex, but since they were now broken up, it was to help clear her head. Nikki never would have thought she would end up in this situation, and especially not with someone she hated just as much as her ex…his best friend. As she lays under the stars for yet another night, she can’t help but think back to how she got herself into this mess in the first place.

//

She was packed and ready to go, excited even. Nikki had never gone on a cruise before, and she was looking forward to meeting some new people. She was never one to be nervous to go to things alone, she knew how to take care of herself and keep herself safe. She had grown up as the mom friend, so her purse was always stalked with essentials. She had one of those ones that was like a little backpack.

Nikki got to the docks a little later than she was hoping, but there was nothing she could do about getting stuck in traffic. She gets out of her cab in her white sundress, large sunhat, and sunglasses, and rolls her suitcase up the pathway to the boat. There was a bit of a line, but she didn’t mind. For the next ten days, she had all the time in the world.

There was a large area for her to check in at, and get her room key. She was surprised she wouldn’t be able to do it over her phone, but she knew that once they set sail the WIFI may not be as strong in certain places. She brought a spare lanyard to stick it on and everything.

“Hello, Miss.” The woman at the table smiles.

“Hello, I’m Nicole Reese.” Nikki smile.

The woman nods and looks her up in the system. She takes out two room keys and hands them to Nikki, along with a couple of pamphlets that were full of activity options, and where the boat would be stopping.

“Here you are, Miss Reese. We hope you enjoy your stay with us. It’s going to be an excellent cruise. Your other party has already checked in.”

“My who?” Nikki’s heart stops.

“There’s two of you signed up for this suite. A nice gentleman checked in about twenty minutes ago.” She taps a few times on the keyboard. “A Mr. Harry Styles.” The woman smiles. “Has there been a mix up?”

“Nope.” Nikki swallows. “Everything’s fine.”

Nikki quickly makes her way to her room. The ship was pretty easy to navigate. She was enraged. Had Kyle sent Harry in his place? Why the fuck was Harry even there? Did he suddenly acquire time off from work? She scans her key card, and enters the suite.

“Jesus, fuck!” Harry shouts. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?! What are you doing here?!”

“Kyle sold me his ticket…he…he didn’t think you’d still go.” His face falls. “Why did you?”

“Because I paid for my own fucking ticket, and I wasn’t going to let him ruin my trip! I planned the god damn thing, I should get to enjoy it. You need to leave before the ship does.”

“Sorry, I paid to be here too, I’m staying.”

“Don’t be a prick, Harry.”

“M’not trying to be. I got the time off last minute, I need a vacation just like anyone else.”

“And you came here alone?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “Thought it would be nice to meet some new people…apparently you thought the same. Unless…oh no, did Alex come with you?” He groans.

“No, she’s not with me.” Nikki rolls her eyes. She knew it was useless to argue with Harry. “That couch should be a pullout, you can sleep on it.”

“But I’ve already started to unpack in the bedroom…you know I have a bad back, Nikki, come on.” He follows her into the bedroom. “It’s a king sixed bed, we can just share. I’ll even make a pillow divider if that makes you more comfortable.”

“I am not sharing a bed with my ex fiance’s best friend!” She looks around. “It’s bad enough we have to share a fucking bathroom.”

“Look, if I thought this boat would have any extra room, I’d go ask for one, but the woman at the desk said it was a fully booked cruise.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I know this isn’t an ideal situation…but think of this way, it’s nice to know at least one person here, right?”

“Wrong.” She shakes her head. “I came here so I could have some time to just not be reminded of Kyle for one fucking second! Now with you here…I’m gonna be reminded of him every single fucking day.” She blinks away a few tears. “You probably think I’m being stupid since it’s been three whole months since we ended things, but-“

“I don’t think it’s stupid…you two were together for three years, that’s a long time to be with someone.”

Nikki nods, and then sighs heavily.

“I think they’re going to make the safety announcements soon. Uh, let’s back out to the main deck, yeah? We can figure all of the sleeping arrangements out later.”

“Fine.”

The two silently head up to the main deck and listen to all of the announcements on how to stay safe, and other things they might need to know. There were a lot of passengers all around them. Nikki was hoping to have some type o rebound while on this trip. How the fuck was she supposed to bring someone back to her room with Harry there? Maybe he was thinking the same thing. His cruise could have easily just been ruined like hers.

“Have you told him I’m here?” She asks him as they move towards the railing to watch the boat take off.

“No.” Harry says. “My phone’s on airplane mode, I’m trying to unplug while I’m here. It’s really none of his business, Nikki.”

“That, or you just don’t want him asking questions.” She scoffs.

“Either way, I haven’t told him, and I’m not going to, okay? You can relax.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because the suite I thought I was going to have to myself has been infiltrated by a six foot, curly headed, no good moron!”

“Hey! I’m not the one who cheated on you, okay?! Don’t take it out on me. Maybe you should have been a better partner to him and he wouldn’t have felt the need to stray.”

“Fuck you, Harry.” Nikki huffs, and walks away from him.

He knew he shouldn’t have said that, but she shouldn’t have called him a moron. That was the problem with Nikki, she thought she was smarter than everyone else, but you don’t get to become an SVU detective by being stupid. It wasn’t her fault that her work was a 24-hour job. She was lucky she even had the time off for this. All activities on the boat were all inclusive, and she wasn’t going to waste it. When she gets back to the room, she starts to unpack so she can freshen up. Harry comes in shortly after. She was just getting out of the bathroom.

“Nikki, look, I-“

“The pillow divider should be fine…I’d feel bad if you hurt your back.”

“Are you serious?”

“We’re both adults, think we can share a bed without it getting weird. You were right before…it’s good to know at least one other person.”

“Nikki, I’m sorry about what I said before.”

“Don’t be. You were absolutely right. I drove him to it.”

She knew how to play the game and keep the peace with someone. It would be easier to play nice with Harry so she could enjoy her trip than it would be to fight with him the entire time. And he was right about one thing, he wasn’t the one she was truly mad at. A little resentful maybe, but she wasn’t mad at Harry.

“Do you…wanna head down to the bar?” He asks her.

“Yeah.” She smiles. “That sounds good.”

Nikki doesn’t stay with Harry for long. She finds herself talking to a cute guy that was seated next to her. Harry didn’t mind because he was talking to some other folks as well. Nikki has dinner with the cute guy, and eventually goes back to his room with him. She has her fun and goes back to her own room. Harry was there, just getting out of the shower, his towel hanging low on her hips.

“Hi.” Nikki says, blushing. “Are you done in there?”

“Yeah, it’s all yours.”

“I…I talk in my sleep sometimes…and sometimes I…punch.”

“Punch?”

“Yeah, I have, like, bad dreams because of work.”

“Oh…well, thanks for the warning. I’m sorry that happens to you.”

“I’ve learned to live with it.” She grabs something to wear to bed before going into the bathroom. She takes a shower, and then comes out. She smirks when she sees the pillows in the middle of the bed. “Thanks.”

“It’s the least I could do since I ruined your vacation.”

“You didn’t know I was coming.” She gets into the bed and turns the light off. “Just like how I didn’t know you were coming. I had a bad reaction before.” She sighs as she gets comfortable. “Nice bed.”

“Yeah, better than a hotel. Well…goodnight, Nik.”

“Night, Har.”

//

Harry was rustled awake around four in the morning. He looks over his shoulder and sees Nikki thrashing around. He sits up immediately and moves the pillows out of the way. She was drenched in sweat, so he rips the blankets back. She was gritting her teeth and kicking her legs.

“Nikki!” Harry grabs her shoulders to try to wake her up. “Nicole!” He straddles her hips to try to still her body. She was really strong. Her eyes burst open and she gasps for breath.

“What are you doing?!”

“You were having a bad dream!” He strokes her cheek, and moves her matted hair away from her face. Her breathing calms eventually and he gets off of her. “Do you want me to get you some water?”

“Please.” She sits up. Harry jumps out of bed and goes to fill up a glass. He comes back quickly and hands it to her, sitting on her side of the bed. She takes slow sips. “Thanks.”

“That looked pretty scary…do you remember what your dream was about?”

“Um, yeah, but I don’t want to scare you. I can’t really talk about cases.”

“If you need someone to talk to, I don’t-“

“It’s fine, Harry.” She snaps.

“Is…is this why you and Kyle never moved in together? Because you get these night terrors?”

“That…among other things. I don’t want to talk about him right now. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Don’t be.” He puts his hand on her leg, giving her a squeeze. “Why don’t I put the TV on, hm? We can just relax for a bit, and-“

“Harry, fuck, I don’t need you to be my shrink!”

“I’m not trying to be! Jesus, you cops all think seeing a therapist makes you weak, but it’s actually the strongest fucking thing you can do.” He huffs. “I’m turning the TV on so I can get back to sleep. I need the white noise.”

He grabs the remote off the dresser and turns the TV on. He flips around the stations until he finds MTV.

“MTV?” Nikki asks.

“They show music videos early in the morning. It’s what the whole fucking station was created for in the first place.” He puts the volume on low, and gets back into bed. Neither of them bother putting the pillow barriers back.

“You don’t understand the stigma. If we see psychologists…they think we can’t do our jobs properly.”

“So you just suffer in silence? Must be fucking terrifying to have nightmares so often.”

“It’s my problem, not yours.”

“But it doesn’t have to be a problem, there are a lot of things you can do to-“

“Harry, please just drop it.” She turns away from him, sinking back into the mattress, and pulling the blankets back onto herself. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Whatever.”

//

They barely speak for the next couple of days, which sucks because the first couple of days are just spent on the boat until they reach the Caribbean islands. Their first stop would be in Florida, and Nikki couldn’t wait to get off the boat and explore where they were getting off at.

“Hey, uh…do you think we could grab breakfast together this morning?” Harry asks her just as she was packing her bag for the day.

“Sure.” She sighs.

He nods, gets his own backpack together, and they head to the breakfast buffet. They both had started to make other friends, but Harry thought it might be nice to explore the Florida coast with her. Luckily, Nikki hadn’t had any more night terrors since that first night. Her head was really starting to feel clearer. They’re quiet at the table they choose to sit at. Harry sighs heavily as he sips his orange juice. He notices Nikki stuffing a few apples into her bag.

“What are you doing?” He asks her.

“We’re going to be out all day today, I wanted to make sure I had snacks.”

“You need three apples?”

“For someone else…if they need one.” She mutters. “I just like being prepared, I can’t help it.”

“Well, I suppose if I get hungry later, I’ll be thankful.”

“Oh, are we wandering around together today?” She raises her eyebrows, and takes a bite of her bagel.

“I was hoping so. I don’t like that we’ve barely spoken these last couple of days. We’re friends, Nikki, why can’t we act like it?”

“I stopped being friends with you the day I found out Kyle was fucking cheating on me.” She stands up and storms off. Harry groans, but follows her. It had gotten increasingly windy out, normal stormy morning in Florida. Although, it had started to drizzle. “Stop following me, Harry!”

“No!” He grabs her wrist. They were outside on one of the lower decks. Not many people were outside due to the weather. “I didn’t know, okay?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t know Kyle was cheating on you!”

“How could you not have known, you’re his fucking roommate! And apparently, it was going on for over six months!”

“He never brought her home! Any girl that he brought over was you, and any time he was gone for the night I just assumed he was with you…if I had known…” He steps closer to her. “I would have confronted him, and told him to cut it out. I would never condone something like that.”

“But you’re still friends with him! You just sat in your room while we were fighting!”

“I’ve been friends with him since uni! I was confused, I thought it’d be better to be on his side and keep the peace. I yelled at him afterwards. I told him he was an asshole for proposing to you while having someone else on the side. And I don’t live with him anymore, alright? I moved out a month ago, got my own place. We’re still friends, yeah, but I…I couldn’t look at him every day knowing what he did to you.” He puts his hand on her shoulder. “I always liked you, Nikki. From the second he started bringing you around, I thought he hit the jack pot, and he fucked it up.”

“He told me I drove him to it. That I wasn’t around enough, that I wasn’t giving him what he needed, but he didn’t feel like he could break it off because we already invested so much time. The fact that it was with his co-worker, someone I never even really trusted.” Nikki scoffs. “I’m glad we weren’t living together, sort of made things easier.” She looks down. “I can’t help that my job keeps me busy, and that I’m not always up to fucking my boyfriend after dealing with a sexual assault case.” She looks back up at him.

“I get it.” He sighs, and grips the railing. “Somedays I come home after a rough session with a patient…like, you know when it’s so bad that when you drive home in silence and go the speed limit?” She nods at him. “It sucks sometimes…being someone that makes other people’s lives easier.”

“Right, because telling a worried mother that her child was found dead and buried in the woods totally makes things easier.” She rolls her eyes.

“That mother gets closure at least. She knows where her kid was and what happened. It helps with the grieving process.” He looks at her again. “You know I work with a lot of victims and survivors, right? I’m not out prescribing anti-depressants to a bunch of rich fucks.”

“I guess I forgot about that.” She furrows her brows at him. “You really didn’t know he was cheating on me?”

“Nikki, I swear, I had no idea.”

Just as she was about to say something else, the wind had picked up. Everything happened really fast from there. Sirens had started to go off, a hurricane was whipping up the coast. It wasn’t supposed to, it was supposed to travel out east, but it didn’t. Harry and Nikki had grabbed onto one another, but it wasn’t enough to stay grounded. They both got flipped over the side of the boat. Nikki had just grabbed at one of the life boats that was attached to the side in time. She pulled the tag, it inflated, and they landed in the water. They were dragged under at first, trying desperately to hang onto the raft. Nikki wasn’t sure how much longer she could hang on for, though. Everything around her started to fade. All she could see was her hand grasping around the rope of the raft before everything black.

//

Nikki’s eyes fluttered open when she felt water splashing on her face. She sits up slowly when she realizes she was drifting along the shoreline. She stands up and tries to figure out her surroundings. She remembered the storm, but she could have been blown all the way to Cuba. She looks to her left and sees the orange raft. Her backpack was next to it, thank god. She stands up slowly and goes over to the raft to flip it over. She steps back when she sees Harry laying there.

“Fuck.” She breathes and kneels down next to him. She almost forgot he was swept away with her. She checks his pulse first, he’s alive. She starts performing CPR, just the chest compressions. Before long he’s coughing up water. “Oh, thank god.”

“What…what happened?” He sits up slowly.

“We got…blown off the boat, I think. There was a big storm that wasn’t properly forecasted. I wonder if anyone else got thrown off like we did.” She looks around, but doesn’t see anyone else. “I have no idea where we are.” She opens her backpack. Everything was wet, but still useful. “My phone’s fully charges and working.”

“How?”

“I have one of those waterproof cases.” She squints at it, raising it up. “No signal.” She digs through her bag and finds a small baggie.

“What’s that?”

“Personal hot spot.” She turns it on and connects her phone. “The signal’s weak, but it’s there.” She stands up and starts walking around. “Map app won’t work.” She groans. “Fuck, I just wanna know where we are!”

“Try calling the ship director, I bet they’re taking attendance for safety measures.”

“Do you happen to know what that number is?”

“No.”

“Well, neither do I. Let me call my partner. The WIFI calling should work.” She taps the number and puts the phone on speaker.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on vacation?”

“Dan! Thank god you answered.”

“Woah, Reese, what’s wrong?”

“There was a freak storm down in Florida…I got thrown off the boat. I just woke up ashore somewhere, but I have no idea where…could be an island off the coast, or we could be in another part of Florida.”

“Can you try sending me your location?”

“The map app won’t work…”

“But you might be able to send your location over iMessage. Are you alone?”

“No…a man named Harry Styles got thrown over with me. He’s a friend of Kyle’s.”

“Gross.”

“There are worse people to be stranded with.” She smirks at Harry.

“Are either of you hurt?”

“I’m a little achy, but nothing’s sprained or broken. Harry, are you alright?”

“Yeah, m’fine.” He says as he stands up.

“Alright, I’ve got your location…shit.”

“Dan.” She sighs. “Where the fuck are we?”

“Cuba.”

“How the fuck did we end up in Cuba?!” She shouts. “The ferry here would be an overnight trip for fuck sake.”

“Don’t know. I’m looking into it now and it looks like a pretty powerful hurricane swept you guys away. It’s like it chewed you up and spit you out. You’re lucky to be alive. I have the name of the cruise ship, since you left me the contact info, I’ll alert them right away. I’m sure they’re taking stock of who might be missing. I’ll have to get special clearance to get you out of there. It could take a few days. Do you have any supplies?”

“Yeah, I’ve got my mini water purifier, and a couple of bottles, some fruit and granola bars…basic essentials.”

“Okay, stay where you are, try to make a shelter in case more rain comes. Don’t use your phone at all unless I call you. I don’t want your battery running out. I’ll get you out of there, Nik.”

“Thank you, Dan. You’re amazing.”

“I’m sorry your vacation got ruined. I’m sure Captain will give you an extended leave.”

“I’m not worried about that right now. It’ll be dark in a few hours and we need to get to building a shelter like you said. Keep me updated.”

“Will do, stay safe.”

Nikki hangs up the phone and looks around.

“What are you looking for?”

“Drift wood. We can use some and the raft to make a little shelter to huddle under. We also need to make a fire to stay warm. If we’re going to be out here for a few days, we need to think smart.”

“What if there are wild animals running around, or-“

“Harry.” She puts her hands on his shoulders. “I know this is really scary, but you can’t freak out, okay? Did you ever read Hatchet growing up?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Okay, so, that little boy got stranded in a fucking forest in Canada…in winter! We’re at least on a warm beach. We can still wash up, and I have a mini water purifier. We’ll be okay. I just need you to not freak out. I’ll need your help.”

“Okay, but after we’re rescued you better let me freak out as much as I want.”

“Deal.” She sighs and goes to her backpack. “Here, put on some sunscreen.” She hands him the sprayable can.

“What are you, the fucking grandmother from Halloween Town? Is that a bottomless bag?” He chuckles as he sprays himself with the lotion.

“No, but I’m a detective that helps people that go missing, so I’ve learned some things along the way. I never leave my house without a stocked bag.”

//

The two work together to move the raft back so it wasn’t near the water. They’re able to find some wood sturdy enough to prop it up for a small shelter. Next, they work on making a fire. Luckily, Nikki’s lighter was still working. Harry was able to keep things going as she checked their supplies.

“We’ll have to ration a bit. Apples are high in carbs, so they should keep us full enough. I’ve got two bottles of water in here. Once we finish them we can use the purifier. I even have two travel toothbrushes and toothpaste in here.” She smiles. “I have deodorant too, but no soap, sorry. We’ll just have to use the salt water to keep us clean.” She furrows her brows as she keeps looking at everything. “I have granola bars as well. Ugh, thank god I had my period last week. I’d be pissed if I had to deal with that too.” She takes out a couple of tampons. “Besides, these’ll be great fire starters.”

“I guess things could be a lot worse.” He sighs and sits next to her once the fire is good to go. “We’ll probably have to take turns watching it, huh?”

“Most likely.” She starts laughing.

“What could possibly be funny?” He asks.

“Nothing, just…wouldn’t it be hilarious if we were just in some rich family’s backyard?” She looks behind them. “I know we’re not, but it would be funny.”

“Yeah.” He smirks. “Well, now that most of the excitement is over, I’m gonna go take a leak.”

“Hey, if you shit, make sure you dig a hole first and cover it. We don’t need to attract animals.”

“Not that I have to do that right now, but you don’t have toilet paper in there do you?”

“I have a packet of tissues, but they need to dry out a bit. Got pads too, those could work…but I may hog them since I have more areas to wipe than you do.”

“Fair enough. Suppose I could use some leaves if need be. I’ll be right back.” He disappears into a discrete area so he can wee, and then comes back to find her rubbing lotion onto her bare arms and legs.

“I’m really glad I wore shorts today and not a dress.” He sits down next to her. “Don’t worry about your luggage back on the ship, either, Dan will make sure everything will get back to us.” She takes out a gun from her bag.

“Holy shit.” He flinches.

“Relax, it’s a flare gun. I’m saving it to use for when they come for us. No use in using it now. I don’t really feel like getting thrown into a Cuban prison.”

“Yeah, that’s not exactly on my bucket list.” Harry chuckles. “What did you do to the water bottles?”

“Oh, I used a marker to mark off how much we should drink at a time to conserve it.”

“God, if there was ever someone to get stranded with, I’m glad it’s you. You’ve thought of everything.”

“I’ve just been trained well.” She shrugs. “Wish I had some blankets or something. It’s gonna be shit sleeping on the sand.”

“We could lay our clothes out and sleep on those.”

“You know, that’s not a bad idea. We’d create more body heat if we’re almost naked.”

“Oh, so we’re cuddling?” He smirks.

“Not cuddling, surviving.” She corrects him.  “We could drag out some of the larger leaves too. Make a pellet of sorts.” She stands up. “Come on, let’s go search for some.”

“Okay.” He watches as she grabs a lipstick out of her bag. “Freshening up?”

“It’s to mark the trees so we don’t get lost.” She deadpans, and he follows her into the unknown territory.

//

“Four days?!” Nikki shouts into her phone.

“I’m sorry, that was the quickest I could get clearance for a plane to Cuba.”

“But it’s a rescue mission, Dan!”

“Yeah, into a non U.S. territory, Nikki. I spoke with the cruise ship director, you were the only two unaccounted for. Your things are safe. I flew down to Florida today and gathered both of your things. I made sure to get you both a full refund on your tickets. I also contacted the people on your emergency contact lists so they’re informed. It’s going to be okay, you just need to survive on that beach. Can you do that?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Try to get some sleep. I’ll call you in the morning if I get any new information.”

Nikki sighs heavily and lays back under the raft. Her and Harry had made a decent enough pellet with leaves so they could keep their clothes on.

“Four days we’re going to be stuck out here.” She shakes her head. “This is all my fault.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry lays back next to her.

“If I hadn’t stormed off from breakfast, we never would’ve been swept off the ship!”

“Hey,” he turns on his side to look at her better, “don’t do that. Neither of us had any idea a hurricane was coming. At least we know someone’s coming for us. So we’ll feel a little hungry and maybe we’ll get bored. Let’s just pretend we’re on a really remote vacation.” He smiles at her.

“I have to pee.” She stands up and finds a spot to do her business before joining him back on the ground. “Let’s try to get some sleep.” She rolls away from him.

“Didn’t you say we needed to keep each other warm?”

“Yeah…I…prefer to be the little spoon.” She smutters. Harry wraps his arm around her, and gets his leg between hers. “Hold on.” She sits up and takes her bra off under shirt, then she takes her shorts off. “Need something to put under my head…and I can’t sleep with this thing on.”

“Good idea.” Harry peels his shirt off and puts it under his own head. They get back into position. She feels warmer with his bare chest against her back. “Goodnight, Nik.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

//

The next morning, Harry wakes up alone. He sits up and gets his shirt back on. He squints towards the water and sees Nikki in her bra and underwear. She was about calf deep rinsing herself. She brushes her teeth and walks back towards their little campsite.

“Morning.” She says as she throws some wood on the fire. “Water’s warm. I was just cleaning off yesterday’s sunscreen.” She grabs the can and sprays her body, rubbing it in on certain spots. “What?” She noticed he was staring at her.

“N-nothing, uh, where’s that other toothbrush?”

“Here.” She tosses it to him, along with the toothpaste.

“Thanks.” He clears his throat and gets up. When he comes back, he sees that she’s put her other clothes back on. “So…how should we handle not dying today?”

“Think we need to treat it as a beach day, but in the shade. I don’t want us getting dehydrated.”

“I can’t sit around for four days, I’ll go bananas.” He sighs. “Can’t we go for a walk?”

“Sure, but we shouldn’t go too far.” She looks at her watch. “This’ll tell me when we hit a mile, how does that sound?”

“Works for me.” He shrugs. The two go for a walk. Nikki puts her phone and hotspot in her back pocket. “What’s your percentage at?”

“Eighty. I put it on airplane mode last night to conserve it. I know it won’t last a full four days, but I’m hoping Dan can get here sooner than that. Special clearance for a fucking rescue mission.” She scoffs. “This is ridiculous! Who’d you put as your emergency contact?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“Harry.”

“It’s Kyle, alright?”

“Wow, so you can barely look at the guy, but you put him down for an emergency contact.”

“I’m British, my family lives in the U.K., he’s the only person close enough to me here that I could put down. Who was yours?”

“Alex.”

“She’s so annoying, I don’t know how you stand to be friends with her.”

“I happen to love her, so it seems like a you problem.”

“She’s never been nice to me.”

“It’s because she likes you and you don’t like her back, and she’s not great with dealing with it.”

“She likes me?!”

“Yeah, she thinks you’re cute.” Nikki shrugs. “Think you were still seeing Tina when I first introduced her to you, and then you broke up and didn’t make a move, she was sort of hurt, but to be fair she didn’t make a move either.”

“She’s pretty, but she’s not my type…sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. Can’t help you like, you know? I still can’t believe I was stupid enough to fall for a lawyer, especially with the business that I’m in.”

“You know, he used to talk about you all the time. He loved how were this strong, independent woman who was just…badass. He saw you as fearless, and he really liked that. We’re both needy guys…I think the busier you got, he just didn’t know what to do with himself. I personally would have tried to talk to you about it and not my colleague, but that’s just me.”

“He’s a brilliant lawyer, but he sure is a fucking moron. Has he…mentioned me at all since we broke up?”

“I know he felt like shit at first, but…th-the woman, Katie, moved in with him when I moved out…I’m sorry.”

“Well, they’ve been together nine months, perfectly acceptable amount of time to be together before moving in. I bet she never has nightmares.” She looks down at her watch. “We should turn around.” They do, and get back to walking towards their things.

“I know you were blindsided, but…I think things happen for a reason. You two weren’t supposed to get married. I…and this is just my inner psychologist speaking, but when I’d observe you two, you just never really seemed all that compatible. Especially as time went on. Your witty banter turned into hushed arguments. I think when two people get too comfortable, they’re too scared to break it off and start all over.”

“I wanted to marry him. He was the love of my life, Harry. And he…he ripped me to shreds. In my profession, it’s pretty male dominated, or there’s a ton of lesbians, which is fine, but…sometimes I don’t always feel like a woman first. Kyle…Kyle always made me feel like a woman first, and a detective second. It made me feel special.”

“Nik…he…he learned how to treat you like that because of me. He was constantly asking me for advice on how to deal with you.”

“How to deal with me?” They get back to their camp. “Didn’t realize I needed to be dealt with.” She huffs.

“See, that’s your problem right there. You’re extremely hot headed! Are you, like, the bad cop at work? Do you get into the suspect’s face, and scream at them?”

“No, I keep my cool at work. No one gives you information when you yell at them.”

“You’re constantly jumping to conclusions, Nikki. You look down on people when they can’t figure things out right away. He wanted to be with you, but he didn’t know how. So I helped him.”

“Right, are you done pointing out my flaws now?” She rolls her eyes.

“I’m not trying to do that. I just think-“

“That’s your problem. You never stop thinking. You never do. You’re a fucking wallflower, Harry. You come off cool with your tattoos and your nail polish and your rings, but underneath it all you’re a shy little boy who never speaks up when he should.”

“And you like to push people away so much that every word you spit stings.”

“I think we should not talk until it’s time to eat later.” She says, looking away from him.

“That’s your best idea yet.” He says, and storms off. She watches him peel his cloths off, stripping to his boxers, and dive into the water.

//

They share an apple in the midafternoon. She was able to cut it up with her swiss-army knife. They didn’t say anything to each other. Nikki and Harry used to have a decent enough friendship. He would often watch a movie with her and Kyle, or he’d come out to the bar to hang out with their other friends. They got know each other well for the most part. She hated feeling such disdain towards him, but right now he was the only punching bag in sight, and she was abusing him for it. Around three in the afternoon, she comes over to sit with him.

“You should put more sunscreen on your face.” She hands him the can. “I just reapplied.”

“Thanks.” He spritzes it into his hands and works it into his skin. “Look, about before…I’m sorry we keep getting into these heated debates. I truly think you deserve better than Kyle, and it kills me to see you still so hurt and hung up.”

“I’m just…grieving the loss of the last three years still. I’m sorry for flipping out so much.”

“You get a pass while we’re stuck here. It’s not easy to keep your cool while you’re stranded.” He nudges her and she chuckles. “Can we just call a truce for the time being?”

“Yeah, definitely.” She smiles at him. “What do you say we go with that beach vacation idea of yours, and build some sand castles?”

“Oh, that sounds like fun.”

The two get to work on building sand castles, and laughing when they knocked them over afterwards. It was good to exert a little energy so that they could sleep that night. Just like the night before, Harry cuddled Nikki with his bare chest pressed to her covered back. They didn’t get any updates from Dan that day other than an iMessage that things were still a go for a rescue plane to come in a couple of days.

Harry woke up in the middle of the night feeling cold. When he reached for Nikki, she’s not there. He sits up in a panic. He hasn’t really panicked yet since he woke up the other day because she told him to stay calm. Without her, he wasn’t sure how to stay calm in such a stressful situation. Yes, they knew people were coming for them, but it was still their job to survive on this unknown beach. His breathing slows when he sees her laying closer to the fire, staring up at the stars. He gets up, without grabbing his shirt to put back on, and goes to lay next to her.

“Nearly gave me a heart attack.” He says, turning his head in her direction.

“Sorry, I woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s alright…just got a little cold is all.” She hums her response without looking at him. “Are you looking at the constellations?”

“Not necessarily.” She sighs. “The only time I’ve ever seen the sky this dark, like, without light pollution, was when I was twenty-one. I got to go to Israel for a birthright trip with my older sister. We camped out in the desert. We all stood in this big circle and preyed and reflected on where we were. I had never seen so many stars.” She turns to look at him now. “I was so overwhelmed that I cried. It was so beautiful.” She looks back up at the night sky. “What you said earlier, about things happening for a reason…I think you’re right. Maybe it wasn’t a cruise that I needed to clear my head…maybe it was getting stranded out here with zero distractions. That’s all the cruise was, a big distraction, but now…being out here…my head’s never been more clear.” She takes a deep breath. “I think I’m done mourning that relationship. The good was good, but the bad was bad…we weren’t right for each other, and I think I’m starting to really see that now. I…I’ll never forgive him for hurting me the way he did, but I want him to be happy, and if that other woman makes him happy and can give him the things that I couldn’t, then, well, good for him.”

“That’s a very adult way of looking at things.” Harry smirks. “It’s amazing what a little unplugging can do for people? A lot of the time I tell my patients to think of a calm, happy place when I have them close their eyes. Nine times out of ten guess what they say their happy place is?”

“Where?”

“The beach. And not at a resort or anything fancy, they just see soft sand, warm water, and a place for them to just sit and breathe for a while. It’s good you were able to come to those conclusions on your own, Nikki.”

“You helped me get there.” She looks at him with a smile. “Guess I respond better to tough love than anything else.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many stars either, it’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it is.” She sighs. Her lips start to quiver, and she sits up.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Harry sits up as well and gently rubs her back as she starts to cry. “You know, other than the fact that we’re stuck on an underdeveloped area of Cuba.”

Nikki chokes out a laugh, and turns to look at him.

“It’s just…I’m so lonely, Harry.” She sniffles as more tears pour from her eyes. “I love my job, and I know I have this tough exterior, but…it’s so fucking hard to meet people in my line of work. I feel like I just latched on to Kyle…and when we ended things I was like what the fuck am I gonna do now, you know?”

“You’ve got Alex…and your partner, Dan…”

“As close as I am with him, I’d never date my partner. Things get too complicated that way. Alex is my best friend, she’s not someone I can be in a relationship with. And I can’t…talk to her about everything. With Kyle, like, he understood where I was coming from sometimes with my cases.”

“You know you can always talk to me. I was sort of…sad that we lost touch when you and Kyle broke up.”

“I hated you by association.”

“Clearly.” He keeps his arm securely around her shoulders. “You and I aren’t so different, Nik. And…sometimes I need someone to talk to too. I listen and help with such heavy shit all day, it’s hard to shake it off and pretend like everything’s normal. I’d like for us to be friends again.”

“I’d like that too.” She wipes her tears and gives him a soft smile. “I’ve missed hanging out with you, you were always so much fun when we’d go grab drinks.”

“Wish we had some booze here. It would certainly take the edge off.”

“Wait!” She stands up. “I think I have a few nips in my bag! I didn’t say anything before because I didn’t want us to get dehydrated while we were out in the sun. Hold on.” Nikki quickly goes over to her bag and pulls out two nips, and then goes back over to Harry. “Grapefruit vodka, it’s really good.”

“Anything sounds good right now, honestly.”

They clink the little plastic bottles, open them, and down them. Normally something of this size wouldn’t have an effect on either of them, it was just a double shot. However, with little food over the last couple of days, the alcohol went straight to their heads.

“I don’t know why people hate on grapefruit so much. It’s sweet and it’s got a kick.” Harry says.

“It’s the vodka.” Nikki says. “Vodka makes everything better.”

“Scientifically speaking, it doesn’t. It’s a depressant, and a poison, so technically-“ In an instant Nikki was straddling Harry and putting a hand over his mouth.

“Hey, shrinky-dink, shut up, yeah?” He nods his head yes. “Good.” She gets off of him and sighs as she lays back into the sand.

“Did you ever own shrinky dinks?” He asks, hugging his knees to his chest.

“What?”

“You know, those little plastic things you’d bake in the toaster, and then they’d harden into these little keychain things.”

“Oh my god! I remember the commercials for those! I always it, but my parents never bought stuff off infomercials.”

“We saw it in the store one day. I whined until my mum threw the box in the cart. Even though she was mad at me for behaving poorly, we had a blast making them together.” A few tears come to his eyes. “The first thing I’m gonna do when we get back is call her. She’s probably worried sick.” He wipes under his eyes.

“You know what I’m gonna do?”

“What?”

“Get a Big Mac from McDonald’s.” She looks up at him and they both start laughing. “Yup, gonna stuff my fucking face. Might sue the cruise company too, just to see if I can make a cool million and never have to work another day in my life.”

“Now that’s a brilliant idea. Might have to join in on that. Might just offer us a settlement so we don’t have to go through the whole court process.”

“That would be too easy. They’d say something like, ‘the hurricane was just as much of a surprise to us. We put on sirens’.” She scoffs.

“I think the sirens are the last thing I remember hearing before you woke me up. Can’t believe I only have a few scrapes and bruises.”

“I know, we’re lucky the ropes from the raft didn’t get stuck around our necks.” She sits up.

“Extremely lucky…in all sorts of ways.” He puts his hand overs and gives it a squeeze. “Come on, we should try to get back to sleep. We need to look for more wood tomorrow for the fire.”

“Yeah, alright.” She sighs and they both stand up. They head back over to the shelter and lay down. “Do you think…would it be alright if I just rest my head on your chest?”

“Sure, makes no difference to me.”

She gets comfortable, resting her head on his bare pec, her arm string across his stomach, and a leg over one of his. He puts his arm around her, keeping her close. They don’t say anything else to each other, they both just drift off, succumbing to sleep.

//

“God, I feel disgusting.” Nikki groans the next morning. “I wish I had a razor in here.” She mutters as she rummages through her bag.

“You’re telling me, I usually like a clean shave because my facial hair grows in all patchy.”

“Actually, a little scruff suits you.” She says without looking at him. “I wouldn’t want you with a full beard, but just a little something looks nice.”

“Nikki.” Harry chuckles. “You don’t want me at all.” Her head whips in his direction and he blushes.

“What is that supposed to mean?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“N-nothing.” He clears his throat. “Uh, why do you think you need a razor anyways?”

“Because my pit hair is starting to grow out, and when it grows out I sweat more, and if I sweat more I’ll stink more.” She says in a quick breath. “Also, my leg hair is starting to get prickly, and I have sensitive skin so it itches like crazy.”

“You could try rubbing your legs with some of the mud and salt water…that might help.”

“Nah, it’s okay.” She sighs. “Think I’m just gonna go for a swim and clean up that way. You know how I said I was going to get a Big Mac?” Harry nods yes. “That’s now the second thing I’m going to do.”

“What’s the first?”

“Shower, in fact, washing my hair is the first on the list.” She takes out of the elastic and shakes it out. “it’s all greasy, but the salt water’s been good for it, I think.” She peels off her shirt and wiggles out of her shorts before walking down to the water.

Harry hadn’t been able to relieve himself in almost a week, and it was really starting to get to him. It especially wasn’t easy because he was around someone like Nikki. Harry always thought she was beautiful, and he thought Kyle was the luckiest bastard for scooping her up. When he saw her come into the suite that morning, he hid how overjoyed he felt. He hated fighting with her, but he was grateful for any interaction he was having with her. He missed her. In all honesty, his plan was to reach out to her another month or so from now, reconnect, tell her how he felt about her…how he really felt about her. It took him nearly a year to figure out why he liked being her friend so much, and why he was so happy for Kyle. It was because he liked Nikki…as more than a friend. But he wasn’t the type of guy to make a move on his best friend’s girl. He wanted to throttle Kyle. Harry truly had no idea he was treating on Nikki. He would have knocked him off his ass and gotten him to either stop, or just break up with Nikki before anyone had to get hurt.

He decides to get up and join her for a swim. He takes his shorts off and goes down to the water in his boxers. He dives in to submerge his body, it was incredibly refreshing. He stands up so he’s only about calf deep. They both agreed not to go too far in because there could be sharks or other predators.

“Think I’m about done with this underwear.” She says to him. “Might go commando for the rest of the time we’re here.”

“You could walk around naked for all I care.” He smirks, and she splashes him. “Oi, I was kidding!”

“Mhm, sure.” She rolls here eyes. “I’m gonna go dry off, and then we can look for more wood.”

“Okay.” He nods and watches her walk out of the water.

They’re able to find more wood later on to keep the fire going. They split a granola bar, and they both sigh once it’s gone. The sun was setting, and Nikki couldn’t help but take a picture of how beautiful it was. Just when she was going to put it down, Dan calls her.

“Hey, Dan.”

“Hey! Great news, I’ll be on the rescue plane first thing in the morning. How are you two holding up?”

“We’re…okay. Mostly just hungry. Bring lots of food.”

“I’ll try. The medic may not want to overwhelm your stomachs. We’re gonna bring you both right to the hospital to get checked out. Your bills are going to be paid by the cruise ship company. If I were you I’d threaten to sue to get some money out of them. They’ve been able to keep this story under wraps and I’m sure they’d like to keep it that way.”

“Okay. I have a flare gun, what time should I set it off so you can find us?”

“Try for around 7AM, we should be close by then.”

“Sounds good, thank you.” She hangs up and looks at Harry. “They’re coming for us bright and early.” She nearly squeals.

“That’s incredible news.” He sighs with relief. “Think we could eat some more food?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s like, you know how the night before it snows you don’t do your homework, but you don’t end up getting a snow day so you’re fucked?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’d rather not eat the food just in case something happens.”

“Fair enough.” He shrugs. “Think I’m just bored anyways.” She sits down next to him.

“Me too. We’ve already played twenty questions, never have I ever…I think if we play another game I’ll go bananas.”

“We could have ourselves a wank.”

“Very funny.”

“M’serious, Nik.” He looks at her. “I think I’ll go bananas if I don’t come soon.”

“Harry, it’s only been a few days…”

“Yeah, but I haven’t done anything in over a week because I thought it would be disrespectful while we were sharing a room on the boat.”

“Alright, so go behind a tree and jerk it.” She shrugs.

“Yeah, I could do that…or…”

“Harry Styles.” She gasps, a smile growing on her face. “Are you seriously suggesting that I stick my hand down your sandy pants, and give you a hand job?”

“I’d be getting you off at the same time so-“

“Are you kidding?! I’m all stubbly down there, and I probably smell disgusting, and-“

Just as she had done to him the night before, he was pinning her down and putt his hand over her mouth.

“Nikki, if you really don’t want to, I’ll drop it and go behind a bush and handle things myself, but I have no problem with a little bit of hair, and I’m just offering to finger you, my face doesn’t need to go anywhere near you if you don’t want it to.” He lifts his hand away from her mouth, but continues to hover over her.

“It’s just…we’re friends.”

“Friends help each other out, don’t they?” She nods her head yes. “Do you want to? Don’t let me pressure you.”

“I…I want to, I mean…getting off doesn’t sound terrible. And it could be a good time killer.”

“Right.” He smirks and moves to lay on the ground next to her. She rolls onto her side and so does he. “Can I…touch your chest?”

“Yeah, I’ll take my bra off, but I’m leaving my shirt on. I just…I feel gross, you know?”

“Whatever makes you more comfortable.” Once she’s situated, she unbuttons her shorts. “I went commando today…put my underwear in the fire.”

Harry nods and undoes his shorts. He was a little nervous.

“Can I kiss you?”

“No.”

“We’ve been brushing our teeth, what’s the big deal?”

“Kissing would make it more intimate, Harry. I don’t want this to be some big, emotional thing.”

He furrows his brows, but chooses not to speak. Instead, he reaches his hand inside her shorts and starts to rub at her folds. Her breath hitches, but she reaches him. Her hand slides inside his boxers and she starts to pump his hardening cock.

“You’re already hard.” She breathes. Their faces were only an inch or so apart.

“M’turned on.” He grunts as her thumb swipes over his tip. He feels her getting wet, and he drags it up to her clit. She bites her bottom lip and twists her hand around his cock. He slides his middle finger inside of her and her mouth falls open. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

“Haven’t done this in a while.” Her hips buck in his direction. “Feels nice. Use two.”

“Are you, ngh, sure?”

“Yes.”

He slides a second finger inside of her and uses his thumb on her clit, applying just enough pressure as he presses circles into it. A moan leaves her lips, and for the first time he was hearing because of something he was doing, and not through the walls of his old apartment. It just makes him work harder, curling his fingers up inside her.

“Fuck, that’s so good.” She mewls. “Don’t stop.”

He presses his forehead to hers and pinches his eyes closed. He was getting closer. His cock was slick with precoma, and she was pumping him perfectly.

“Shit, Nikki.” He moans, and it makes her own closed eyes pop open. She had never really heard a guy genuinely moan before, and she thought it was hot, really, really hot. His fingers were petting against her g-spot in just the right way. He opens his eyes and sees her already looking at him. “Is everything alright?”

“Y-yeah, just…say my name like that again.” Her hips were grinding against his hand. “I’m so fucking close.”

“Me too.” He pants. “Fuck, Nikki.” He moans again. He bites his bottom lip to ground himself.

“Oh my god, Harry!” She cries out as she comes around his fingers, and she feels warmth against her hand. He had also come to his release. He slowly takes his hand away, and she does the same. “Shit.” She breathes and sits up. “I, uh, I need to go pee, excuse me.”

He watches her grab some tissues, and she goes to her designated bathroom area. Harry lays back under the raft and tries to catch his breath. He could clean himself up later.

//

The next morning went by painfully slow. They were up at sunrise in anticipation of the plane coming for them. Nikki’s phone and hotspot had finally died. They made sure to put the fire out safely, and once 7AM hit Nikki shot the flare gun. About ten minutes after that a small plane flew over them, and a rope ladder was thrown out.

“It’s here, we’re saved!” Nikki exclaims, throwing her arms around Harry. He holds her tight for a moment. “I’ll climb up first, okay?”

Harry nods and watches as she starts moving up the ladder, her backpack slung on her back. He climbs up after her, and they’re both pulled inside. Nikki falls into Dan’s arms.

“Thought I was gonna have to go through getting a new partner.” He mutters into her hair. “I’m so happy you’re okay.”

“Me too.”

“How you holding up, Harry?” Dan asks him as the medic checks Harry over.

“I’m alright, I’m feeling really tired, though.”

“So am I.” Nikki says.

“Rest up, we’re headed to a good hospital in Florida.” Dan says, keeping Nikki close to him.

The next time Harry wakes up, he’s in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV. Kyle was sitting by his side. Harry groans as he looks over at him.

“Hey, you’re awake!” Kyle says. “I flew down here as soon as they called me, man. They said you were severely dehydrated, and you had way too much sun, even with all the sunscreen you guys were using. They want to keep you overnight for a psychological evaluation.”

“Makes sense.” Harry sighs. “We’re bound to have some shared trauma, nightmares, remembering certain parts of being thrown off a fucking cruise ship, you know, normal stuff.”

“I haven’t been able to see her yet. I guess Dan’s been in with her, trying to get more info on what happened.”

“Is she awake?”

“I think so…I’ve walked by her room a few times. Did, uh, did anything happen between you two out there?”

“Right, because being stranded is super romantic.” Harry rolls his eyes.

“M’serious, man, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know how you feel about her. The way you’d look at her sometimes…I could see it.”

“Nothing happened.” Harry swallows. “We were out there as friends, and we came back as friends.” Harry sits up a bit. “Is your girlfriend here?”

“No, she’s back at home. She was, uh, very understanding of me wanting to come down here and make sure you both we alright.” Harry nods at that. “If…if something did happen, like, if the next person she ends up being with is you…well, I’d be alright with that.”

“Oh, well, thank god for that. I was really worried about how you’d feel about her moving on.” The sarcasm wasn’t lost on Kyle. “You really fucked her up, you know that? She’s not going to be happy to see you.”

“I know what I did was wrong, but I still care about her wellbeing. I’m gonna go check if I can see her now.” He squeezes Harry’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Kyle stands up and goes down the hall to Nikki’s room. Dan was no longer sitting in there, so he figured it was now or never. He knocks on the door, and she sits up when she sees him.

“Kyle?”

“Hey.” He comes in cautiously. “When Dan called me…I got down to Florida as soon as I could.”

“Yeah? Where’s Claudia?”

“Back home…how are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” Nikki sighs. “I’m not roughed up or anything, I guess we were really dehydrated, though. Must have been from all the sun because I had my water purifier…must not work as well with really salty water.”

“I was really worried about you, Nik.” Kyle starts sniffling as tears come to his eyes. “I would have never forgiven myself if you died and the last words you said to me were that you hated me.” He takes her hand in his. “I miss you so much. I hope…I hope we can find a way to be friends.”

“You can’t be serious.” She scoffs and takes her hand away. “You come here, make things about you, and then ask me to be your friend? You cheated on me for six months, Kyle, six months! And you still had the nerve to propose to me! You broke me in so many ways, and I’ve finally been able to put myself back together. Getting stuck out there was almost a blessing. It gave me a lot of the clarity that I needed.”

“I didn’t think you’d still go on the cruise…if I had, I never would have sold Harry the ticket. You must’ve been so mad when you saw him.”

“I was…but he was the perfect person to get stuck out there with.” She shrugs.

“Did anything happen between you two?” He chews on his bottom lip. “I saw him before you, and he said nothing happened, but…he’s a terrible liar. He said you went in as friends, and come out the same way, or something.”

“Well, he’s not wrong about that.” Nikki smirks. “You really wanna know what happened between us?” Kyle nods yes. “Too bad.”

“What?”

“You don’t have the right to know. I meant it when I said I hated you, Kyle. I do, I hate you. It was very nice of you to come down here and make sure we were both okay. I actually appreciate it, but I’ll never forgive you for what you did. Cheating…it’s just not something I can forgive.”

“Okay.” He nods. “Well…I…I really am glad you’re alright. Did they tell you when you’d be able to go home?”

“In a couple of days. They’re keeping us overnight, and then they’re sending in a shrink to evaluate us. Standard procedure.”

“If you need anything at all when you get home…any help suing the cruise ship company, please don’t hesitate to ask. I could help you pro bono.”

“My god, how selfless.” She rolls her eyes. “Go home to Claudia, Kyle.”

“Bye, Nikki.” He lingers for a moment, and then leaves. A few tears roll down her cheeks, but not because of him. She just…missed Harry and wanted to see how he was.

//

Nikki and Harry weren’t given much time together during their evaluations. They were each spoken to separately, and when they were brought into the same room, they had to speak to the psychologist directly. Nikki desperately wanted to reach out and hold his hand, but she wasn’t really given the chance. Harry was able to catch her in her room before they left the hospital. They were to go directly to the airport to head home.

“Hey.” He says to her.

“Hi.” She says as she zips up her bag. “I think I’m sitting with Dan on the plane.” She swallows.

“Right.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Um, listen, when we get home…don’t be afraid to talk to me. Like, if you have a nightmare or something, don’t be afraid to call. I won’t care what time it is.”

“That’s nice of you, thanks, but I’ll be alright. It’s no different than seeing some bad shit at a crime scene.”

“No, it’s not.” He sighs. “You might-“

“Harry, please.” She shakes her head as she grabs her bags. “I’m a big girl, I think I can handle what happened. It’s not like it was traumatic.” She scoffs.

“Yes it was, are you kidding me? A hurricane-“

“I was there, I know what happened.” She shakes her. “I appreciate you being so nice, but it happened, and it’s over now. Back to reality.”

What she said carried a lot of weight. She was coming down from her cloud, and she realized her and Harry needed to part ways here. Every time she looked at him, she saw Kyle, and she just couldn’t deal with that right now. Harry knew what she meant too. He was extremely disappointed. Even though he was the one that suggested they do what they did that night, he was feeling a lot of emotions about it, almost regret because he knew he’d never get another chance to feel her like that again.

//

“Captain, I swear I’m fine. I just want to get back to work.”

“I know you do, Reese, but you’ve been through a lot, and-“

“Sir, not to be disrespectful, but I disagree.”

“Nikki.” He sighs. “Take another week off, alright? Work will be waiting here until you get back. I’m happy to see you, but I’ll be happier once I know you’re home. It’s an order, Reese.”

She sighs, but does as he says. She couldn’t really argue with the captain of her precinct. She tells Dan she’ll be out for another week, and then heads home. She hadn’t spoken to Harry, but to be fair he hadn’t made an attempt to reach out to her. He wanted to give her some space, and let her come to him if she wanted to. By the third night she woke herself up screaming and in a cold sweat, she knew she had a problem. She kept having flashes of being dragged under water and not being able to breathe. She finally worked up the nerve to call him…at 3AM.

“Nikki?”

She could tell she had woken him up, but it felt so good to hear his voice.

“Hi.”

“Are you alright, love?”

“No.” She swallows. “No, I keep having nightmares.”

“So do I.” He sighs. “Do you want me to swing by?”

“No, that’s okay…I kinda just wanted to hear your voice. I’m sorry if that’s weird.”

“It’s not…it’s nice to hear yours too.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t reached out until now. I feel like I’ve been trying to pretend nothing happened.”

“A lot of people try to cope that way, but repressing shit isn’t healthy, Nik.”

“So I’ve come to realize. It’s crazy, like, I work with all of these victims, and I’ve never really understood how they couldn’t remember certain things, but I get it now.”

“Trauma’s funny like that.” He says softly. “Have you been back to work?”

“I tried, but my captain told me to take another week off. What about you?”

“I’m doing the same. I’m too distracted to properly help my patients. They’ve been very understanding.”

“That’s good.” She chews her bottom lip. “So, you’ll be home tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe I could come by in the afternoon? It would be nice to talk…maybe we’ve been having the same nightmares. I keep waking up screaming and sweaty.”

“Are you dreaming about being dragged under the water?”

“Yeah…”

“So have I.” He sighs. “Come over around two tomorrow, yeah? I’ll text you my new address.”

“Okay, that sounds good, thanks, Harry.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Well…I’ll let you get back to sleep now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, Nik.”

//

Nikki knocked on Harry’s door promptly at 2PM. She was just in a simple quarter zip and jeans, along with her hair up in a messy bun. Harry opens the door wearing a tee shirt and joggers.

“Hi.” He says.

“Hi.” She says.

He steps aside to let her in. They look at each other for a moment, it looks like they’re both about to speak, but they both close their mouths. There was so much to be said, but neither were sure how to articulate it. Her eyes well up with tears, and she rushes towards him, throwing her arms around his neck, crashing her lips to his. He wastes no time wrapping his arms around her, and returning the kiss. Even though her mouth was preoccupied, kissing him made her feel like she could breathe for the first time in days.

“I missed you.” She says, pressing her head into his chest.

“I missed you too.” He rests his chin on the top of her head.

“I’m sorry if that was weird, I just-“

He cups her cheeks so she’ll look up at him. He gives her a soft smile.

“Nikki, I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah…I was pretty jealous of Kyle for a while. I’ve always thought you were wonderful. Feel like we have a lot in common.”

“We do.” She agrees.

“We don’t have to rush into anything…I’d rather us work on ways to not have nightmares and such, but…if you’d be willing to give it a try, I’d love to take you out sometime.”

“You wouldn’t feel weird…about Kyle?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I…I don’t think he’s really someone I want around anymore. I’d rather have you around.” He kisses her tenderly, sucking on her bottom lip for just a moment. “I really fucking like you.”

“I can see that.” She swallows. “I think…I think we could have a lot of fun together.” A smirk grows on her lips. “Just don’t become my therapist, or I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

“Is that a threat or a promise.” He smirks, nuzzling his nose to hers. “Wouldn’t mind seeing how you use your handcuffs.”

“Remember when I called you a moron?” She chuckles. “I meant it.” She shoves him.

“I was kidding, relax.”

“Mhm, sure.” She rolls her eyes.

“Do you want some tea? We could sit and chat. I’ve been trying to record the dreams I’ve been having in a journal. I have my patients do it, so I figured I’d take my own advice.” He leads her into his kitchen and has her sit. “I keep having the same one: drowning.”

“I have that one, and then I have one where…where I wasn’t able to hold onto you.” She frowns as he gets his kettle going. “You know…I had less night terrors sleeping on that beach with you than I have in a long time.”

“Can I ask…would Kyle hold you at night?” Harry sets a mug in front of her before he sits down.

“Um, usually when I’d first fall asleep he’d spoon me for a bit, but he’s not a cuddly sleeper, and he’d eventually roll over. We didn’t spend a lot of nights together because I’d usually wake him up by accident. What does any of that matter?”

“I held you all night while we were on the beach.” He puckers his lips in thought. “Do you have a weighted blanket?”

“No.”

“Do me a favor, get one. You may need the extra weight at night to keep you calm. They work wonders, I have one myself, and a body pillow. I’m a cuddly sleeper.”

“I’ll, um, I’ll look into that.” She takes a careful sip of her tea. “How can I get them stop? The nightmares.”

“Well, talking about it usually helps, and doing things like getting a weighted blanket can help. I think you’ve repressed a lot, Nikki…you need to talk about the things you see and feel.”

“It’s not that simple, Harry.” She sighs. “If anyone at work found out I was seeing a therapist-“

“If it’s that big of a deal…then don’t tell them.”

“Things have a way of getting out.”

“Then…just say you’re seeing me.”

“That’s not fair, though.”

“Nikki.” Harry sighs and places his hand on top of hers. “I’m not offering to be your therapist, I’m just offering to be someone that you can come to if you need to talk about something. M’a really good listener.” He smiles.

“I know you are…thank you. I just don’t want to come to you, and dump on you when people pay you to do that all day. Why should I burden you with my problems?”

“Oh, darling.” He raises her hand to his lips and kisses it. “Nothing about you is a burden. Tons of people feel that way, and that’s why they don’t want to talk to anyone, but once you get talking it just gets easier and easier. I always liked when you’d tell work stories…you could just tell me about the not so great stuff when it’s feeling really heavy.”

“So, if I come to you and say I just spent the day searching for a kid, and we found their dead body in the trunk of a car, you’d be okay with that?”

“Probably wouldn’t wanna chat about it over dinner, but sure.” He shrugs. “Nikki, I told you, I see people who have been through shit, victims and survivors, that stuff doesn’t scare me.”

“I may not open up right away.”

“That’s alright, we don’t always have to talk about the heavy stuff.” He smiles.

“What if I don’t wanna talk at all?” She mutters.

“Well, I don’t know if you remember what happened between us that one night on the beach, but I’m pretty good at not talking too.” He smirks.

“You know, if I had known you had liked me for a while, I wouldn’t have been such a jerk about kissing and stuff that night.”

“I was too blissed out with your hand wrapped around my prick to really care.”

Nikki licks her lips and swallows, looking at his lips briefly.

“You know what would be great?”

“What?”

“A tour of your apartment.”

“How rude of me to not offer when you first came in.” He stands up and extends his hand. She takes it, and lets him lead her around. He shows her the art on the walls, and the various books in his home office.

“Do you ever see patients here?” She asks as she sits down in one of his comfy chairs.

“God, no.” He shakes his head, leaning his bum on his desk. “Sometimes patients can grow certain attachments to their therapists, it’s better for them to not know where I live.”

“Right, because you’re the hot Dr. Styles.” She smirks. “Same thing happens to me sometimes. I’m usually the one they send in undercover to seduce some sick fuck.”

“That’s because you’re incredibly skilled and talented at what you do, Detective Reese.” Nikki stands up and wraps her arms around his neck. “You’re also insanely gorgeous, but that’s besides the point.” He kisses her nose. “Would you like to stay for dinner and watch a movie?”

“Yeah, I would.”

//

Five months later…

“Dan…what is this?” Nikki points to the plant Dan plopped down on her desk.

“It’s a bonsai tree, they’re super easy to take care of. Consider it your first house warming gift.” He beams at her.

“Aw, you old softie, thank you.” She gives him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Allie can’t wait for our next game night, by the way. She was thinking we could have you two over to play Clue once you’re all moved in.”

“Yeah! That sounds great. Oh! I wrote down that recipe for that dessert I made for her.” She grabs an envelope from her desk. “That cookies and cream pudding pie.”

“God, thanks.” Dan takes the envelope. “She’s been dying to make it, but she wants to make it the way you did so she can start selling it at the bakery and call it ‘The Nikki’.” He chuckles.

“She’s too sweet, honestly. If you don’t put a ring on it, I will.”

Things had been going really well for Nikki. Thanks to Harry, she had gotten better about opening up about things. It was so slow going at first, but eventually she got to talking, and it helped her be a better detective. Being Harry’s girlfriend was amazing. It didn’t take much for her to fall head over heels in love with him. And there was no denying that he was gaga over her. That’s why after just five months of dating, they were moving into their very own town home together. It didn’t feel fast to either of them because they had known each other for years, and they slept at each other’s places all the time as it was. It just made sense to move in together. They were in love, and were a great pair. Alex had even gotten used to it, and Harry set her up with one of his friends, Ben. Their friends helped them move, and Nikki put her new bonsai tree in her kitchen bay window. Everyone left after having some pizza and beer.

“Can you believe this is all ours?” He says into her ear as he wraps his arms around her from behind.

“No.” She giggles as he nibbles on her earlobe. “But I’m really happy.”

“Me too.” He hums. He sponges kisses to her neck and sinks his teeth into her skin.

“Harry.” She whines. “We need to unpack.”

“Don’t wanna.” He mumbles into her skin.

“Can we at least do the kitchen and the upstairs bathroom? You know, the, um, essentials.” She swallows. Harry was often very affectionate with her, and she liked it. She really, really liked it.  

“Fine.” He turns her around. “But when we’re done with the kitchen and the upstairs bathroom, we’re doing the bedroom.”

“Seems fair to me.” She pecks his lips.

The two work in tandem to put their essentials away. It was actually fun to organize the cabinets together. Next, they go upstairs to work on their bathroom. Actually, Harry handles the bathroom while Nikki gets some fresh sheets on their new king sized bed.

“Bathroom’s all set.” Harry says.

“I just got the foam topper and the fitted sheet on the bed, I just have to – ah!”

Harry had grabbed her and thrown her onto the bed. She squeals as he launches himself onto it, almost crushing her in the process.

“Making the bed fully would be a waste of energy.” He says into her ear as he pins her wrists down. He sucks on her supple bottom lip, and lets it go, causing her to whimper. “Don’t you think?” She nods her head yes. “Just wanna fuck my new live-in girlfriend, can I?”

“Please.” She breathes. “Need you to take care of me.” She pouts at him.

“Aw, my angel-baby-detective needs some lovin’?” He pouts back at her.

“Uh-huh.”

He grins at her and has them both sit up. He peels off her tee shirt, and lifts off her sports bra. He gropes her breasts before kissing on them. He sucks bruise after bruise into her plushy skin. He pulls her into his lap so she can grind on him while he paid attention to her breasts. She liked it when Harry left marks on her like this. She liked being his. He lays her down onto her back. He kisses down her torso, nipping where he pleases. He loved kissing on her pudgier areas because he wanted to show how much he loved every inch of her. She did the same with his love handles. He drags her yoga pants and underwear off, and tosses them to the floor.

“Look at you, so wet already.” He says as he pulls her thighs apart.

“You were already making me feel so good, Har.”

He hums his response as he laps his tongue around her center. He moans once he gets a proper taste of her. He licks his way up to her clit and sucks on it while he works two fingers inside of her. She grabs at his hair and tugs on it while her body starts to tingle.

“Fuck, just like that.” She mewls while raising her hips to meet his mouth more. She comes to her release, and she tugs him up to her. She licks into his mouth and sucks on his tongue. “Get naked, now.” She nearly growls.

Harry grins and gets his clothes off. He sits up against the headboard and waits for Nikki to swing her leg over his lap. She lines him up with her center, rubbing his tip along her clit before sinking down onto him. They both moan out, and he grabs at her hips to help her find a rhythm. She puts her hands on his shoulders and starts bouncing up and down on his cock.

“God, I love you so much.” He grunts.

“I love you too.” She kisses him and runs her hands through his hair. “Don’t know I ever survived without having your big dick inside me, fuck.”

“Yeah? M’making you feel good, baby?”

“So fucking good.” She pants. “Best I’ve ever fucking had.”

She comes again, and with the way she clenches around him he nearly loses it inside of her. He lifts her off just in time and comes on her stomach. He kisses her over and over, and they both giggle. Once they’re both cleaned up, Harry helps Nikki get the bed made, and they both climb in. She rests her head on his stomach while he reads his book.

“Harry?” She looks up at him. “Could you out your book down for a second? I have something to tell you.”

“Sure, sweetie.” He dog-ears the page he’s on and sets his book down. “What’s up? Oh, is this about me buying the Hamilton Beach food processor instead of the Cuisine Art one like you wanted?”

“No.” She chuckles.

“Are you sure? Because you cried when I brought it home. I swear, the Hamilton Beach one had better reviews, that’s the only reason why I got it.”

“I cried because I was hormonal.” She chews her bottom lip. “Harry, I’m pregnant.”

“But I came on your stomach.” He blinks, and then looks down at her.

“Yeah, tonight you did.” She sits up so she can look at him better. She kisses his shoulder and then smiles at him. “My period was late, so I took a test just for the hell of it…I’m six weeks.” She grabs her phone off the side table. “I even took a selfie with it to show you.”

“Oh my god, you’re not kidding.” He looks at the picture and then at her. “How long have you known for?”

“Only a week. I wanted to wait until the move was over to tell you. How, um, how do you feel about this? We haven’t really talked about kids or anything.”

“I know.” He hands her back her phone and throws his arm around her. “I mean, I fully intended on proposing and all that, just not for another few months. I wanted to see how living together went.” He smiles down at her. “And I was hoping you’d want kids at some point…think you’d make a great mum. I’ve seen you with kids, you’re amazing.” He kisses her temple and starts laughing. “I can’t believe I’m gonna be a father.” He shakes his head. “Thanks, Nikki!”

“You’re such a dork.” She chuckles. “You’re really not mad, or upset?”

“How could I be? I’m living with the girl I never thought I’d even get the chance to kiss, and now she’s pregnant with my baby. I’m ecstatic.” He pecks her lips. “How are you feeling about all of it?”

“I’m…actually pretty excited. I mean…I went off birth control months ago for this very reason. I didn’t think it would happen quite this fast, but this is a pretty happy accident.”

“I wonder what we were doing six weeks ago.”

“What does it matter?”

“I’d just like to know how our little fetus got conceived.”

“I, um, think it was the night, you, uh, let me lick the whip cream off you on your desk.” She swallows.

“Oh, yeah! Blew my load right up into you, didn’t I?” He smirks. “We should do that again, it was a great sensory exercise.”

“Harry!” She smacks his chest.

“You’re really okay with all this, Nik? It’s your body.” He caresses her cheek and she leans into his warm palm.

“I’m more than okay with it. Just don’t rush an engagement or anything like that, okay? I wanna marry you at some point too…but…not just because I’m pregnant.”

“So…if like four months from now I had a long weekend for us planned to go apple picking up north, and while we were settling down in the evening getting cozy in front of a fire place…you wouldn’t want me to propose?”

“You know, I hear being pregnant can make you forget all kinds of things, so I can’t wait to be surprised four months from now when you suggest going away for a long weekend to go apple picking.” She beams at him. “I think I’d really like that.”

[blush-and-books]

always you-shaped thoughts inside my head

so, we found wonderland, the amazing fanfic by @pink-flame ended this week. as a result of my deep and sorrowful mourning, i wrote a fanfic for a fucking fanfic. yes, everyone, we have reached that point. so if you’re one of the unfortunate souls who hasn’t read it then you can start here and do not read this if you don’t want spoilers babes!!!!

anyways, i don’t want to talk about how much i cried when i wrote this. moving on. title from find u again by mark ronson ft. camila cabello and once again THANK YOU @pink-flame FOR THIS WORK, I LOVED IT, I LOVE YOU, ENJOY

A/N: the first part of this is a reimagining of a scene from the story, and the second part is more of a deleted scene. grab tissues if you’re one who cries easily. also tagging @bluefirewrites because i kept texting you while writing this

Julie doesn’t know in what timeline she thought that going to the bookstore would be a good idea. 

Even with her back flat against the wall and Luke’s book clutched identically between her hands and the palms of every other eager fan in the room, she felt like she was too close. Like this was a mistake.

She was the one who insisted they don’t look for each other. 

But here they were. Him, with a poem that crossed time with the silent, lost plea for her to come back to him; her, who chose to answer the call even if she knew she shouldn’t have. Julie should have realized that she couldn’t avoid him forever. Their paths were meant to cross in every universe. 

When he takes the stage, she doesn’t shatter. Yet. 

People are swamped beside her and Flynn on all sides, and she still feels like it’s just the two of them. Once he’s in her line of sight, it’s only him in the room, only him that exists. 

In a world where she’s jumped to and from across time, Luke may be the most real thing she’s ever known. 

The words he says as he reads and answers questions hit her ears as just a series of tones and syllables that are achingly familiar. He’s laughing through one of the book’s anecdotes and suddenly she’s back in the arcade, laughing with him at the pinball machine. He’s talking about the rush of playing their first sold-out show, and she’s back in the greenroom as he heatedly kisses her up against a wall after she spent so much time fighting for him to love her again. 

He’s reading about his parents, and she’s back on that pull-out couch that was only comfy when he was in it; listening to him whisper about their fragmented relationship. 

But then a 20-year-old pokes him about the poem. And he says he loves her -- well, not explicitly, but he says it’s about love -- and the other shoe drops. 

Tears inundate her eyes. 

“I have to go,” her voice shakes as a sob threatens to rip through her words. Flynn offers to join, but Julie needs fresh air and to be alone and to just let her tears fall onto the asphalt of an alleyway without feeling the need to explain herself. She will always be alone in these emotions, in this heartbreak, and that’s okay -- she just doesn’t want anyone to act like they get it.

So she passes her book to Flynn, urges her to get it signed, and flees out the side door. 

Right before she’s out, the 20-year-old presses on about Find Me: “Well, what if they came to you now? What if they found you? Wouldn’t you be happy to see them?”

The exit slams shut behind her and she doesn’t get to hear his answer. 

--

“Well, what if they came to you now? What if they found you? Wouldn’t you be happy to see them?”

Flynn watches intently as Luke’s eyes darken. The book feels heavy in her hands, and she feels like she is suddenly intruding on an intimate moment between Luke and Julie -- even with Julie gone. 

She didn’t always understand what happened with her best friend. But this was clearly a mind, body and soul situation. 

Luke has to clear his throat and blink rapidly before answering. “God, sorry, that one caught me a little!” The audience chuckles. “No one’s asked me that so far on this tour. That’s a good question. I probably think about it more than I should, but… I mean, first of all, they wouldn’t come and find me. I know them well enough to know that Find Me just… Went out into the universe with no expectation of a response. But if they decided too, I… I’d wanna make sure they were happy. And I’d probably thank them one more time for everything they did when I was younger. I would probably be in shock, honestly. I haven’t seen them in a long time.”

Flynn is wiping her nose with a stray tissue from her purse before she can even register that she’s started crying. 

The random people in the back row with her send her strange looks, wondering why she’s getting so emotional, but hearing Luke talk about her best friend like that… 

“Do you still love them?”

God, this person won’t give him a break!

The rockstar visibly tenses up, and the easy grin plastered on his face breaks. That’s when his manager hustles onstage and announces that they are going to start the signing; and everyone needs to start lining up. 

Flynn has to fight to get farther up in line, but it’s worth it when she reaches him.

“Hi,” he smiles, “who should I make it out to?”

The word makes her tongue feel like lead. “Julie.”

His head snaps up, and he’s fully looking at her for the first time. There are a thousand Julie’s in the world, but he knows it’s his. 

“I’m her best friend,” Flynn continues, shifting her teary eyes down to her converse because fuck Julie wasn’t kidding when she said his eyes were intense sometimes. 

“Flynn.”

“Oh... She told you-”

“Where is she? Is she here?”

She’s not even looking at him, but he sounds so desperate, and the water in her eyes swells as she glances at the exit off to her side. “Not right now. But she wanted me to get this signed for her.”

Luke’s Sharpie doesn’t move across the inside cover. In fact, he’s frozen; staring off in the distance with what Flynn is sure must be a whirlwind of emotion that he didn’t ask for. Flynn isn’t sure how to handle it -- they’re in public, and she’s minorly concerned she just sent him spiraling, and they don’t even know each other -- but she feels the need to relay a message since he’ll never get to hear it from Julie himself. 

“She…” Luke looks back up at her; eyes boring into hers in a way that could tug the truth out of anybody. As she blinks, an enthusiastic tear drops onto her cheek, and she instantly lifts her index finger under her eye to catch anything else. “Fuck, my eyeliner. Sorry. Anyways-”

The words get caught in her throat again, so she has to take another deep breath. Helping star-crossed lovers communicate when they are almost thirty years apart is more emotionally taxing than she anticipated. 

“She’s really proud of you,” Flynn finally manages with a voice squeakier and higher than she ever wants to hear it again. Another tear falls from her other eye. “She loves y- your music, and hopes that you have everything you wanted and she’s so proud of you for everything you’ve built.”

At this point, the crumpled tissue in her hand has been helping her dry her eyes because standing in front of Luke Patterson and trying to tell him that the love of his life still cares -- still watches from afar, still wants the world for him -- is making her realize the emotional turmoil that Julie must have been feeling all this time. 

How did she do it?

In front of her, Luke is rubbing his hands over his face and audibly takes a deep, sniffly breath in. Turning to the same woman who got onstage to transition the event before, he informs her: “I need to get some air.”

“Luke, where are you-”

But he’s already forcefully pushing himself back in his chair, grasping the book off of the signing table, and darting out the same exit that Julie stormed through ten minutes ago. 

When the manager turns to look at Flynn -- she bolts away and towards the front entrance. If Julie and Luke are about to meet in that alleyway, she doesn’t want to intrude. Even if she already fucked up both of their plans to never see each other again. 

--

Julie is still hyperventilating and sobbing in the alleyway when the emergency exit loudly flings open against the wall of the bookstore. Her arms are wrapped tightly around herself with a childish prayer to have Teddy Luke in her arms, because at least then there would be a little piece of him to stay with her when the rest of him is gone.

She’s expecting Flynn, or an employee on their smoke break, but not-

“Luke.”

“Julie.”

A whimper leaves her lips at hearing him say her name for the first time in so long. His own eyes are glassy, and even though he’s so much older his eyes are still the same. He’s still her Luke, and that’s such a dangerous idea to touch in this timeline but she can’t let it go. 

“I’m so sorry,” she wails, trying to avoid looking at his heartbroken expression for too long. “I know, I said we can’t do this, I just-”

“Julie.”

“Did you want me to find you?”

Air puffs from his mouth in a harsh sigh as he takes a few steps closer to her; incredulously focused on the fact that she’s there, in front of him, real. “I- Of course, of course I did, Julie. I just didn’t think you’d come. But I wanted you to know I was looking.”

Her eyelids fall shut. More tears are pushed out, and she doesn’t know if she’s crying or laughing because of course Luke would look even when she told him not to. He respected her, and he respected her wishes, but he could never help himself from pushing the boundaries. 

Achingly, she’s always been so grateful for that trait in him. 

But now the two of them are awkwardly standing only a few feet away, and the urge to just feel him, assure that he’s solid in front of her is becoming all too real. 

Gravel rolls under the soles of her shoes. “I loved the book,” she confesses. “All of the stories. I mean, I’m sorry about the- About your splits-”

“I shouldn’t have even tried with them-”

“But everything else, just…”

How does she say it?

“When- Back when, in the other timeline, and you guys were ghosts… Those stories were the kind of thing you had always wanted. You were so determined to get it, and-” She sniffles. “I’m so glad you got it.”

His lips turn downward. It’s a flash of the familiarly frustrated Luke who is trying to make a tough decision, but in this case, she doesn’t know what that decision is. All she sees is the wince at her saying it was what he wanted, and how happy she was that he got it, and-

A conceited part of her contemplates if he’s about to correct her, tell her that life hasn’t been great, say that he would have rather had it differently; but he doesn’t want her to think her sacrifice was for nothing. 

Oh, God, please say he’s happy. She doesn’t think she could handle anything less. 

“It’s thanks to you,” he responds instead, gulping down any more that threatens to come up. “You saved me.” Beat. “Are- Are you happy? Is everything in this timeline okay?”

Well, in her head, not exactly. Of course she still had her dad and brother and Flynn, but Sunset Curve never stayed together, she erased Carrie’s entire existence, and everything felt just a little tilted on its axis. Julie felt like a stranger in a world of her own creation. 

She yearned for the days back in Wonderland where everyone belonged. They were a little scarred and a little broken, but they were home. Her house from the original 2020 timeline was her home. Luke was her home, and he was right in front of her; the only security blanket she has right now. 

Once again, she finds herself bursting into tears and wanting so badly to reach out to him, to give him a hug and tell him she wishes that she stayed in bed in Wonderland with him forever. She wants to jump back down the black hole and go back to 1995 when things made more sense than they did now and Luke could be hers again; and not a distant love that could never materialize in the present. 

Julie, miraculously, holds herself back. But watching Luke’s hands flinch at the sight of her crying doesn’t make things easier. 

“Please don’t cry.” His voice is a whisper but the words hit with a force that almost buckles her knees. “Julie, please, take a deep breath.”

She takes in a breath that makes her lungs expand into her ribs. “I’m happy,” she lies through her teeth as she breathes out slowly. “I’m happy. We’re happy.”

“Good.” 

Tears are running down his face. She recalls a time where it was easy for her to hold his face and swipe under his eyes with her thumbs until there were no more tears for her to kiss away. 

In unison, they clear their throats and shift their eyes. The air changes; they know they’re in a public place again, and Luke is an adult musician, and he’s with a fan. He holds his hand up, the one that has the book, and shakes it a little back and forth. 

“Flynn said you wanted this signed?”

A watery smile blooms on her face in spite of the bitter moment. “Yeah,” she nods. “Thought it could be another memento.”

To put emphasis on the idea, she lifts up onto her tiptoes and tilts her voice up. Make it a more positive moment. Don’t dwell. Stop crying. 

You can’t change things now. 

Luke pops the cap off with his teeth, and toys around with it in his mouth like it’s one of his marked-up guitar picks as he holds the book open and scribbles something (probably illegible) on the inside of the front cover. 

Then, once he’s done there, he starts flipping the pages around like he knows where every detail of the story is and marks up certain pages with… Something. She doesn’t know. After he’s made his wanted notes, he writes something out on the last page before firmly shutting it and returning it to her possession. 

“Thank you,” she smiles simply as she pulls the book from his hands and carefully assures that their hands don’t overlap. If she touches him, she falls apart. 

Luke hums in response. 

Stupidly, Julie decides that moment to open up the book and see what he wrote while he’s standing right in front of her. But she isn’t thinking about him, or looking at him -- she’s looking at the inside cover. 

We were always meant to find each other. Don’t forget that - please. 

Yours,

Luke

When a tear drops on the page, she quickly turns farther into the book because she doesn’t want her feelings to ruin his beautiful, even if messy, words. These words are all she’ll have after today. 

The few pages in the book that he made notes on were just little things that she never knew she needed to hear. 

The chapter about his first sold out stadium show? Thought of you the whole time

When he heard he was nominated for a Grammy? Wanted to call you first

The night he won his first Grammy? Almost thanked you in my speech

The last page he wrote on was the Acknowledgements page. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t that long. Luke kept a core circle of people and that was that. But below that short list, in bold, black letters:

To Julie Molina, who sacrificed everything so that I could be able to tell these stories. I wish she could have been a part of them. 

Her tears slip from her face so clear and quickly that she’s surprised her tear ducts are generating such a mass amount. The words replay in her head, in Luke’s voice, over and over. The affirmation that he wanted her with him all this time. 

But she had to go again. This had to be a one-time thing. This hurt too much for her to put either of them through it again, and besides -- now she had closure in his own writing; with her tears notarizing each word. 

“It’s time, Julie,” she mutters to herself. “It’s time.”

To say goodbye. Again. 

But Luke never answers. It’s dead silent, even though cars should be racing on the road behind them. When she looks up, Luke is frozen to the spot. Everything is, except her. 

“Time is a funny thing isn’t it? Just when you think you have a handle on it, it manages to surprise you.” 

It’s Willie, but not actually Willie. The one who was giving her the clues and trying to lead her in directions all over 1995; the one who she hasn’t seen in a really, really long time. For a moment, she doesn’t believe it. 

But he tells her that fate is in her hands. This is her choice. And despite the doubt that lingers uneasily in her chest, she can’t help but be desperate for this to be real. 

“Why not you? Who better than Julie Molina? Teenage girl with a good heart and music in her soul. Braver than most. Why not you?” 

Julie jumped across time to save her boys, and now she is willing to make the trip again if it means there’s a chance of saving them all. 

But there’s one more thing she wants to do. Just before everything either is perfect again or goes to complete shit. 

Spinning away from Willie, she takes a second glance at Luke’s still frame and softens her face into a smile. He had been looking down at her while she was reading his notes with tears in his eyes and a sad grin on his face. 

No one is looking or judging anymore -- so she stands on her toes and throws her arms around his neck, squeezing him close even if he can’t hug her back. She’s been dying to do this since she saw him in the bookstore. 

And it feels like coming home. 

“I’ll find you again,” she whispers into his ear that probably isn’t listening. “I promise.”

And without any more hesitation, she turns back to Willie with her chin up and shoulders back. 

“What do I have to do?”

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

The book never finds its way back to her the way that the bear does or the way that the ring does. 

But that’s okay, because the bookstore does, and she’s with Luke when she registers that they are walking by the bookstore on their way to meet everyone at one of their favorite diners. 

By now, Luke had been told everything. She felt herself starting to fall in love with this third Luke just as she had all the others, but could never tell if he was falling back in love with her. Julie found herself -- while this timeline was infinitely better than the old one -- pining for Luke to come back to her and love her like he did in two other lifetimes. 

Their hands were brushing each other’s on the sidewalk when the bookstore sign met her eyes. 

“Jules?” 

Her feet are glued to the cement; her eyes are glued to the alleyway. Luke approaches behind her and lays a hesitant hand on her shoulder. 

“Jules, are you- Is everything okay?”

“Can we take a detour, really quick?”

And suddenly, he’s letting her lace her fingers through his and pull him through traffic -- no crosswalk in sight -- across the street to stand in front of a bookstore that has zero meaning to him whatsoever. Julie selfishly revels in his calluses rubbing her knuckles and doesn’t make a move to let go unless he will. 

He doesn’t. At least, until they hit the alleyway.

“Julie, what is this place? Why are we out here? Is this… Did I like it here, or something?”

They never spoke much about the Luke’s of other timelines. Julie quickly caught onto the fact that he got uncomfortable when she talked about guys with his name and face that he knew virtually nothing about even though he felt pressured to know everything. 

But he dealt with her when she had moments like these. She never thanked him properly for it.

“It wasn’t like that,” she shakes her head, “we were here in the other 2020. The one where you were older, and this huge Grammy-winning solo musician. The one that was a result of what I did in 1995.”

The exit door is still rusty on the hinges. The brick is the same shade of red, and-

“Okay… And? What did you guys do?”

His use of third person is a clear message. “Him and I had made this promise in ‘95 that we wouldn't find each other, right?” “Because he would be old.”

“Yeah. But he published this book and had a whole signing tour called Find Me, and Flynn told me we should go, and… Basically, I had a mental breakdown at seeing him, and then he came back here and signed the book for me, and we talked, and-”

Her voice cracks. Her eyes feel wet. 

Fuck. 

Can’t she make it one timeline without sobbing in an alleyway?

A familiar hand rubs up and down her back as she stares, firmly, at the spot where her and Luke were so vividly standing and talking and pining for the other. 

“Jules, hey, look at me.” 

Because it’s Luke -- because it’s her Luke -- she listens to him, and rotates to face him. The soft fabric of his shirt hits her cheeks as he presses his fingers into the cotton and lifts his hand to wipe the tears from her face in a gesture that tempts her to cry more. Instead, she tries to laugh it off. “God, I really need to stop having meltdowns in alleyways, huh?” He stays quiet; looking at her in a recognizable Luke way that reminds her of all of their loving times in other lives. But she can’t get her hopes up. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like when I talk about it. Sometimes I just-”

“You need to,” he nods. “I get it.”

Her feet are planted identically where they were in alternate-2020. But Luke is in a different spot, because this is a new Luke. One that’s right in front of her, lightly holding her arms; not one that’s a few feet out of reach. 

“He told me that we would always find each other.” Her voice is watered down, and quiet, but Luke is close enough to hear it. 

“Well, he was right, wasn’t he? We did it. For like, the fourth time, according to you.”

And then, she’s hit with a Luke Patterson smile. She sees it all of the time now but it never gets old because he’s young, and he’s happy, and he’s here. 

Her lips turn up to reflect it, and in a shocking turn of events: Luke instigates the hug. 

They are nearly best friends, so they’ve hugged before. But this one is different. 

His arms fold around her shoulders and tug her close and snug into his chest so that his chin is nearly resting on her hair. This leaves her able to press him close to her with her arms wrapped tightly and lovingly around his waist -- almost, dare she say it, like he was a teddy bear. 

“I never said I’m sorry,” he murmurs into her forehead. “Or thank you, for that matter.” “For what?” “I’m sorry you went through so much for me. For us. It still affects you a lot and I’m sorry you have to carry that alone.” His chest rises and falls under her cheek as he takes a deep breath, and she doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of feeling him breathe or hearing his heartbeat. “And thank you for loving us enough to do it. You sacrificed a lot.”

She is too choked up to verbally comment -- but she squeezes him tighter, almost tempting her arms to swish through him. 

They don’t. 

And Luke continues talking after a moment of a peaceful silence. “It’s kind of cool, though, for me to think about this person I have in the universe. You know? The whole thing with us finding each other. I always have you, no matter where I am. You’ll be out there.”

“Always,” she sighs into his chest, because she can’t help it. It took them a few tries, but here they are: In the same timeline, with full family and friends and lives, in a reciprocated hug. 

“Always.” Luke repeats the word, almost feeling it out in his mouth. “Well, thanks for doing it again. Maybe let me do the work next time. You need a break.”

God, this Luke is always so good at making her laugh. Ghost-Luke was, too, but the other Luke’s and her were always swept up in emotionally-taxing situations for her to be laughing like she could when she was with this Luke. 

It was almost as if this one had practice. Maybe those other lives were kicking in.

He was her final Luke, hopefully. 

As she props her chin up on his chest, she gives him the widest grin she’s worn all day. “I would appreciate that. Just don’t take too long.” Her forehead nuzzles itself into his neck as she settles herself back into his arms; fully content to be wrapped up in him for as long as he will let her stay. “I’ll get worried.”

A soothing hand over her hair is all the confirmation she needs. 

“Don’t worry, Boss. I’ll be there.”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Seconding the 'mob guys watching over Chris for Paul's suggestion!

CW: References to murder/mob organization stuff, references to parental death, grief, referenced past whump of a minor

Every Tuesday at 9 am, just like clockwork, Sean Malley lumbers into a coffeeshop nestled into the corner of a flat featureless strip mall. Contrasting to the pale concrete nothingness of its surrounding, the little coffeeshop is painted  a warm, rich brown along the exterior, with heavy platers spilling over with purple and yellow flowers every few feet until Sean reaches the door.

It’s a welcome bit of individuality along this ring of small strip malls and larger big-box stores kept out of the city proper by a pile of zoning laws too draconian to fight. He’s been coming here for ten years now, more or less, and has seen the little coffeshop through its earliest days struggling for business right to now, where he feels reasonably certain he’ll be dead long before they close this place for good. 

He moves inside, the light immediately warm and slightly dimmed. The scent in the air of freshly roasted coffee beans and baked goods. The cannolis they sell came from him, Sean’s proud of that - his wife had a favorite recipe and he’d given it to them after she passed, hoping for one batch for the service. They’d just kept making them, having one ready for him when he popped in, and... well, they’ve sold them ever since. Even call them Christa’s Cannolis, handwritten in cursive on a little placard. She’d have been tickled pink, he thinks sometimes, to see it. 

One of his knees comes and goes as it pleases these days, giving his step a bit of a shuffle-scrape. He’s smiling, though, and humming as he goes.

Life is good for Sean Malley, all things considered. 

Truth be told, he hadn't actually expected to live this long. Keeping close to Conor and his family had paid off in the early days - just as his instincts had kept him safe when the Garden erupted in in-fighting, too. When the Clean-Up happened, during the Garden’s most vicious in-fighting, Sean had seen half the men he’d watched start as snot-nosed dumbasses taken out one by one, clearing the way for Conor’s fucking grandson to make his play for power.

Those kids who’d run lookout gigs and then moved on to guard duty or work with the cargo coming in... one by one those kids-turned-adults, with families of their own, had been removed from the picture. Fifteen, all told, a bloodbath stretched out over six months - sixteen, of course, if you count how Paul’s murder went all wrong. 

The one comfort had been watching Conor’s grandson lay the groundwork for his own comeuppance the whole time - promising favors for loyalty and then killing the ones he’d promised those favors to. That’s no way to start yourself as leader, and... well.

Trash had been taken out, in the end. Riley Higgs had gotten rid of the poison - and the poison’s friends - and his crew’s a damn sight better than Conor’s grandson’s people had been. 

Riley, for one thing, understands that an organization like the Garden works, in the end, on trust. On being a family.

Don’t kill your family without a good damn reason, now do you? 

Now Riley... he had a good reason. And Sean had made sure Riley Higgs knew a few very important facts that kept him on the man’s good side, and very much alive when the dust settled.

Even if he had did have to live with a bum knee. And back. And his hip’s started twinging every time it rains...

"Morning, Mr. Malley!" His favorite barista calls out, giving him a wave from behind the counter. She's a pretty thing, just cute as a button. Probably in her late twenties but when you’re as old as Sean is, everyone looks like a child playing pretend. 

Still, it always brings a bit of sun in the old man's day to see her bright pink hair before he ever takes his seat. He always tells her she should move on from here, do something with her life other than serve old men their coffee and watch them while away the hours.

But I like it here, Melody always replies, giving a little shrug of her shoulders. I like our regulars, too. Besides, this place pays better than the job I’d get with my actual degree. 

"G'morning to you, Melody!" He calls back, moving to have a seat in his usual spot, sinking gratefully into the plush armchair by the bookshelf in the corner. His favorite coffee table book, a heavy thing full of photos of World War II, is already laid out on the side table next to it, bookmarked where he’d left off last week. "Busy day, today?"

Melody is already heading his way, coffee in hand just how he likes it, one of Christa’s Cannolis on a small plate in the other. Sean’s doctor has been on him about cutting out sugar, and he’s done it just about everywhere else, but he still has his cannoli on Tuesdays. Christa had been so proud of herself when she’d mastered that recipe... 

"Not really,” Melody says with a shrug, breaking into his thoughts. “Just the usual morning rush and a couple college kids, wandered outside but they left their drinks, I figure they’ll come back. One of 'em looks like he got mauled by a real weak bear."

Sean feigns surprise. "Oh, does he now?" He takes a sip of his coffee and sighs happily. "Not too hot. You had it out already, didn't you?"

"I saw your car pull into the lot," Melody says, giving a little it's nothing gesture. “I knew you’d be in, so I kept an eye out for you.”

"You're a doll, Melody, and this place would be lost without you." He presses the twenty-dollar bill into her hand, and when she protests, he shakes his head, adds another ten, and closes her hand firmly around the cash. "Take it, take it. I'm an old man on my own, who've I got to spend it on, huh?"

"You're not that old, Mr. Malley," Melody sighs, an old song and dance between them. “You’ve got grandkids who could use it, too, you know.”

"Ha! Trust that my grandkids never want for anything, Melody. Besides, live the life I've lived, and sixty feels like eighty-two. Go on, then. Cilly'll be along in a bit."

He sits back to drink his coffee as she heads back behind the counter, watching through the front window the cars that pass along the highway, the scattering of people getting in and out of their own vehicles in the parking lot. It's a perfect, and perfectly normal, Tuesday morning. Just like any other.

A perfectly normal Tuesday where one creature of habit makes it a point to get a quick look at another. 

A flash of red catches his eye, and he frowns, watching a bright red Northern cardinal alight on the bench placed outside the shop, preening one wing briefly and then seeming to look towards the lot.

Sean follows its gaze, silently chastising himself for being so utterly taken by a simple bird, but... Northern cardinals are more or less unheard of around here, especially in the city. This one seems to cock its head in his direction. 

"Someone," He mutters to himself, "is a bit lost."

There's a peal of laughter, as the door opens, the little bell on top chiming to announce them, and there they are.

Two young people walking inside, heads tilted together. One of them has thick, wavy black hair, one of those haircuts the younger people like so much now, shaved on the sides but long on top. The younger guys in the Family wear their hair like that now and then. 

Sean thinks he liked it better when everyone kept things neat and tidy, but times change, and the Garden can't stagnate just because an old timer's got opinions. Riley’s take is he’d rather is people look like they could be anybody anywhere, and Sean has to admit the kind of haircut he’d like to see would stick out like a sore thumb.

Both of them are wearing all black head to toe, the black-haired one in a tank top and baggy pants, a large yellow lightning bolt on a cord settled just below their collarbone. Honestly, if he gets past the hair thing, they’re cute as a button, too.

Really, though, he’s not here because of them.

He’s here to get a good look at the young man walking in beside them. 

It’s funny - it’s been nine - ten? - years since he last saw Paul Higgs alive, the day before he and his sweet Ronnie were gunned down in their own home in the night... but tears still prick at the corners of Sean’s eyes when he see the ghost of Paul in his son’s narrow face.

There’d been a joke when the little one first came into the world, that somehow Paul and Ronnie had put together a child where her genetics simply skipped out entirely. He’d been a little clone of Paulie from the start, and he’s different as a man than he’d been as a child lining toy cars up at their feet in the warehouse on Saturdays when Ronnie needed a break.

Sean pulls his phone out, idly scrolling - his daughter had helped him to get Facebook and a couple other things besides, including some kind of app that had his favorite card games. He pretends now to be fascinated by something he sees, but in truth he pulls his camera up and starts recording.

“It, it, it could change everything,” Paulie’s boy is saying, breathlessly excited, hands moving through the air in a blend of gesture and general happiness. “You see? Everything! Make it, it, it-it safer, make... make things better.”

“I know, I know,” The other one replies, deep voice warm and thick with love, and Sean sighs, missing his Christa now more than ever. He consoles himself with a bite of cannoli. “I already told you I’m in, Chris, okay? I’m going to help you. You don’t have to sell me on it.”

Tristan ducks his head with a shy smile, and boy if he isn’t Paul’s spitting image in that, too. Paulie hadn’t smiled much, not like his kid does - maybe that’s what he got from Ronnie - but in a smile like that, well... you could see where he got it from. If you’d known Paul, of course.

Which the kid didn’t, not anymore.

“It could, um, be dangerous though.” They’re barely audible now as they go back to where they left their still-steaming drinks, sitting down on a nearby couch. “Nat’s worried. And, and, and you know Jake-”

“Chris, you could walk across a crosswalk when the light starts blinking and Jake would still worry about you,” The other one teases. Sean knows their name, but right now it won’t quite come to mind, lingering on the tip of is tongue, never quite landing. “It’ll be public, yeah-”

“Telling everyone who... who, who I am.” Tristan starts tapping his fingers on his pants, a peculiar finger-twist-tap-tap-tap gesture that Sean once knew as well as anyone, when the boy was small. But it’s the words, with a hint of nervousness lining them, that get his attention. “The... the whole world’s going to, to, to to-to-... to... to know about Tristan Higgs.”

Now that gets Sean’s attention. He cuts the video, sends it to Riley, and starts a new one. It takes work not to sit up, or drop his cannoli, or in some other way give himself away. 

He knows, then?

How?

Sean looks down at his phone, looking over the scar on Paul’s boy’s forehead, the only remaining evidence of what had been much more visible the first couple times they’d seen him out after it happened. Sean and Cilly had figured maybe a fight - people get into them, really. Paul wasn’t exactly gentle as a lamb, and why would his boy be?

But now... he wondered. His instincts told him the two were related, and of course he knew from the time they’d worked with WRU pretty closely under the table that those memory things they did sometimes failed. Sean had done a fixer job once for someone whose pet had recovered memories too fast and killed a servant in a panic...

“Oh, Paul,” Sean murmurs. “What’d your boy do, hm?”

“I’m, I’m going to to to t-... to tell everyone who I am,” Paul’s boy is saying, leaning forward and taking the hands of the other one in his own, squeezing them tight. “I’m... will, will, will you come with me? When, when I... so someone’s there?”

“What? Holy shit, Chris, go to the Olympics? With you?” They inhale and exhale, blowing some hair from their eyes, and smile. “You should take someone who knows more than I do about all that stuff, Chris, take Jake, or-”

“Jake has has to stay here. To, to protect the house. But... will you come with me?”

Sean cuts the video, sends it to Riley, and this time adds a message.

Olympics are in Chicago this year. What’s Paul Jr. planning?

He feels eyes on him and glances up to find Tristan looking over at him, an expression of uncertainty on his face. Sean’s been watching him for years, popping up in places, the way you sometimes see the same faces at the corner store, the mom-and-pop, a coffeeshop like this one. Now, he watches Tristan look him over, knowing he’s familiar but not knowing why. Part of him, with a pinprick of an old, old grief, wishes Paul’s little boy would recognize him now. 

Most of him knows it’s better if he doesn’t.

Tristan looks away, and goes back to talking, but his voice lowers and now Sean can’t quite pick up what he’s saying beyond a few scattered words. He gets a couple photos of the lovebirds with their head together, sipping coffee, and sends those on to Riley, too.

Job done, he settles back to finish his cannoli and drink his coffee. Tristan and-... Laken, his name suddenly supplies, only an hour after he’d started trying to remember it - get up and leave, Tristan’s arm around Laken’s waist.

Good for the kid, Sean thinks, with a smile. By this age Paul had an elementary school son running around, but you know, it’s good to take your time on these things, and it’s nice to see that all the shit they’ve had to stand back and watch still wraps up nicely into Paul’s boy living a pretty nice life indeed.

His phone dings just as Cilly enters - right on time at 10, like clockwork - and he glances down to open the message from Riley.

I’ll get one of our guys to look into it. This might give us the out on the business I don’t want to be in I’ve been looking for. Kid looks good, looks like Paul. Family genes run deep.

Sean greets Cilly, even older than him but a sight more spry, and glances out the window. The bird’s gone from the bench, of course. The day is bright and shining.

-

In Laken’s car, they’re halfway back to the house Laken shares with their roommates when Chris suddenly sits straight up. “Mr. Malley,” He breathes out, green eyes widening.

Laken jumps - he’d been silent, preoccupied and in thought - and nearly jerks the car into a curb. “Damn, Chris! You scared me. What’d you say?”

“The old guy, in, in, in the the the the-the-... the coffeeshop, who kept looking at, at me.” Chris rocks forward, hands on the dashboard, his eyes staring ahead but not at the road, they’re looking far ahead... or behind himself, back in time and not space, when and not where. “His name’s Mr. Malley. I, I, I knew-... my dad knew, my, my, my dad, my dad-” 

He winces, the headache splitting him apart, and Laken hits their turn signal, pulling into the parking lot of a generic fast food place, swinging into a parking space and turning to look at him. 

“Chris? You okay?”

Chris’s face has gone pale, cold sweat breaking out. It still happens, sometimes, and when they lean over to touch his shoulder he flinches back from them, instinctively.

Laken exhales. “Okay. Ride it out, Chris. Let the memory go if it’s hurting, it’ll come back to you. They all come back now.”

“No! No, I, I, I want-... Mr. Malley knew my dad, I went to-... work, with, with him sometimes, his his his wife babysat me, I... I know him. I knew him. I knew-” He turns to look at them, and they fight the urge to try and touch him again.

Not yet.

“Do you... do you think, think, think he knew me?”

Laken swallows. “I don’t think so. Wouldn’t he have said something, if he recognized you? If he was your dad’s friend? Are you absolutely sure that-”

“Yes, I’m, I’m sure. I know it was him. I, I, I know, he, he, he gave me me me Dinotopia books... for Christmas one year...” Chris jerked in a breath and let it out again, hands going up over his head, folding himself in half until his forehead rested on the dashboard, pressed to the cool molded plastic. “He, he, he, he came to their funeral, he hugged me, he said, you’re too young to to to to have to lose so much, and everyone said-... everyone said stuff I hated but but but not him, he said, he said-”

“Chris, please, don’t hurt yourself doing this-”

“He said grief gets worse before it gets better, and and and and he said-... he said... he said don’t let anyone tell you that R-Ronnie’d want you to to to be strong, she’d want you to scream your head off if you want to, your dad’d be proud if if if if-if... if you told us all to go to hell, and... and and and and it felt like he was the only person who who who knew them at all that day, everyone said, said, said stupid things but not him, not-... not him and not Mr. Cilly, not-... not my Aunt Jo, not anybody, but he-”

Chris chokes on a sob and when Laken throws their arms around him he melts into it this time, crying against their shoulder, the two of them uncomfortably arched over the center console and the gear shift. 

“It’s okay,” Laken whispers, running their fingers over the slowly growing fuzz of his hair. “It’s okay. Let it ride, Chris. It’s okay.”

“He, he, he was my dad’s b-b-best friend-... Why d-didn’t he, if he saw me, why wouldn’t he-... I s-see him all th-the the the time, why doesn’t he know who I am?”

“Maybe he’s like Akio,” Laken says, and feels him trembling under their touch. “Maybe he’s always thought you were dead.”

“I w-was,” Chris whispers “When I, I, I was Baldur. When I was training. When... when I... was good. I was dead.”

“Chris-”

“I was dead,” Chris says, and they kiss his head, helpless to think of anything else to do. “When my p-parents died, I died, too. Mr. Malley made m-me feel like I I I wasn’t. Why didn’t he kn-know me? Why didn’t a-anyone know I was alive?”

“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.”

“Hurts,” Chris whispers. “Why, why, why didn’t anyone help me before she she she-... before I was-... why didn’t anyone help me?”

Laken’s own eyes burn, and they draw circles on his scalp with their fingertips. “I can’t answer that,” They say, low and soft. “I’m sorry. But you know you have people who can and will help you now.”

For a while, Chris’s only sounds are sobs, and Laken can only make soft soothing nonsense noises and feel like shit that it’s not enough.

“Ev, everyone knew she-she hated me,” Chris whimpers, and sounds younger than he ever has, and Laken wants to throw a punch or scream and they can’t do either, only sit in the car and glare at people who look in as they walk past. “Everyone.”

“Chris-”

“Everyone knew, why, why, why why why didn’t they stop her?”

-

Back in the coffeeshop, Sean and Cilly are in the midst of an argument about a baseball game that happened 30 years ago when his phone rings. He holds up one finger and picks it up, lifting it to his ear.

“I have a job for you,” Riley says, with his cheerful hint of brogue. Funny, to remember that this part of the family only came here a few decades ago. “It’s a job I know you’ll enjoy.”

“Watching Paul’s boy is my retirement gig,” Sean says amicably. “You know I don’t do the dangerous stuff any longer, Mr. Higgs.”

There’s a silence. “I’m going to do some looking into what you sent me. But in the meantime I need to give you a job, and you’re going to do it.”

“And why is that, Mr. Higgs?”

“Because you’re going to want to do this.”

“What is it, then?”

Another pause.

“I want you to find Joanne Botham.”

Sean thinks of the dour, angry woman who had ignored Tristan in his funeral suit, gathering mourners around her while she sobbed over Ronnie’s loss, Ronnie’s own son alone on a couch staring off into space until Sean himself had sat down and told him, don’t let ‘em say your mom’d be proud of you bein’ stoic today, kiddo. Ronnie’d want you to scream if you felt the urge. 

The kid had looked at him like he’d been given water in the desert, a starving man offered a bowlful of broth. Mr. Malley?

People will say a lot of real stupid stuff to you today, Sean had said. His eyes had gone to Joanne Botham, and Ronnie’s sister’s icy glare when she looked at her own nephew had made his blood run cold with anger even then. Likely in the future, too. But you just remember Paul and Ronnie weren’t saints. And they’d never want you to be, either. I’m sorry for your loss, Tris. No one on God’s earth has loved their kid like yours loved you. Should’ve seen his face when he told us your mom was pregnant with you. Could’ve lit the world with all the sunshine there.

A clap on the back, a whispered thank you, and that had been the last day Sean Malley had ever seen Tristan Higgs alive.

Until, of course, Riley had told him there was a boy living in a pet liberation safehouse who looked remarkably like Paul. Until, of course, Riley had shared that he’d known Tristan Higgs was alive all along. Until, of course, Sean had been told he couldn’t make a move because WRU was protecting all the players who had stolen his friend’s kid. 

Until... now.

“Mr. Higgs?” His voice drops, and Cilly sits up, alarmed at the sudden change in tone. 

“You heard me. Find Joanne Botham. I have a feeling we are about to get the opportunity we’ve been waiting for.”

The phone goes dead on the other end, and Sean slowly sets it down, finishing his second cup of coffee in a gulp. Then he looks at Cilly, and starts to smile. 

“Riley’s got work for us,” He says, and when Cilly’s eyebrows raise he doesn’t wait for him to ask for more. “Don’t worry. You’re going to like it. Finally get to do what we should have done ten fucking years ago.”

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump  , @oops-its-whump  @cubeswhump ,  @whump-tr0pes  @downriver914 @vickytokio @whumpiary @orchidscript @moose-teeth @nonsensical-whump

[monstersandmaw]

Male drider x reader (sfw) - Part One

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

It’s Wednesday, so that means it’s ‘new’ story time. This one has been up on Patreon for a week already, and Part Two has gone live today already.

Content: Female reader takes up a job as an archivist in a creepy old house and is surprised to find that 'the master' refuses to be seen at all... Very much ‘Beauty and the Beast’ inspired, if you will. Cameos from Sarrigan Silkfoot and Damien the orc chocolatier (Tumblr links). Wordcount: 2464

EDIT: my favourite comment from patrons on part two has been ‘cranky spooder’

WANTED: Librarian to take on an extensive, re-cataloguing project in a large, private collection. Diverse collection includes books, clay and stone tablets, scrolls, parchments, and various other media.  Applicant must be willing to live on-site in a relatively remote location, and archival qualifications preferred, though demonstrable experience may suffice. Board and lodging will be provided throughout the duration of the project. It is anticipated that it should take between four to six months. More details to be supplied to the candidate following a successful interview.

---

You stared at the strange advert in the paper and let your teeth sink slowly into your lip, a frown playing across your forehead. This was… honestly right up your street in terms of experience and qualifications. In that moment, sitting at the table in your favourite coffee shop in Starfall Springs while a summer rain shower hammered down outside, you wanted to wave that advertisement in the face of everyone who’d said a postgraduate qualification in archive and records management would render you essentially bankrupt and completely unemployable. If this was anything to go by, they were only half wrong. You were practically bankrupt. Well, up to your eyeballs in student loans at least.

“Fuck it,” you hissed under your breath, ripping out the advert and getting out your phone. There was no email contact, but there was a number, and you saved it to your contacts in case you lost the little shred of newspaper, and decided to call as soon as you got home.

The phone wasn’t exactly your preferred method of communication, but it was all you had, so after psyching yourself up, you punched in the numbers and paced about, waiting for someone to answer.

Abruptly, the dial tone cut off, and a crackling on the other end of the line announced that someone had picked up. “Hello…? I’m… I’m calling about the archivist’s role advertised in the Starfall Chronicle… I was hoping for a bit more information.”

“Oh,” came a reedy, thin voice. “Your qualifications?”

You told them and then waited for them to speak.

“Hmm. And your experience?”

You swallowed. “I… I helped the Starfall Museum in transferring their computer system from the manual catalogues…” you said, suddenly feeling like this was the interview already.

“Mmm. So your experience is not extensive then.”

It wasn’t a question, and you ground your teeth.

“Just how am I supposed to get this vast acreage of mythical experience if no one hires anyone without it? I can get you three stunning references from the museum curators and staff, as well as from my professors at university,” you said hotly. And instantly regretted it. “I’m sorry,” you added hastily. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Yes you did,” they chuckled, voice husky and fragile. “And you’re perfectly right. I think you might do well at this in fact.”

“I… what?”

Another soft snort. “What information would you like to know then?”

“Where is it, for a start?”

There was an uncomfortable pause, and you’d just been on the point of asking if they were still there when they spoke again. “There’s an old estate to the north of Starfall Springs.”

You frowned. You’d heard rumours as a child growing up here that there was some mad old nightmare creature who lived in the woods on the slopes of Starfall Mountain and came down into the town on the new moon snatched naughty children from their beds, but you'd long dismissed it as nonsense to make kids behave. Still, it sent a tingle of apprehension down your spine.

“I’ve heard something of it,” you said carefully. “Not much.”

“Widowsweb Court,” the person said with reticence. “The estate dates back centuries, and the collection is in need of some care and attention. If you would be willing to live on the estate in your own, self-contained apartment, with meals provided in the kitchens of the main house should you wish it, then I think you sound like the right person for the role.”

“When would you want me to start?”

In the end, it took you less than a month to get everything organised.

On the evening of your departure, you and your friends celebrated on Temple Meadow, the huge swathe of public park surrounding the town’s religious building, and as you lay back on the blanket, staring up at the sky and surrounded by friends, you saw a shooting star sear through the canopy of glimmering stars above.

Sarrigan Silkfoot and his partner lay curled up nearby, and Damien, the huge orc from the chocolaterie in town, had tucked his own partner’s head against the crook of his colossal shoulder. A thought occurred to you as you watched Sarrigan toss his head back and laugh at a joke whispered in his ear, and you sat up.

“Sarrigan?”

“Mm?” he hummed, laughter still dancing in his eight red eyes.

“I know you don’t talk much about your family, but do you know of any other estates around here?” You hadn’t mentioned exactly where the job was, just that it wasn’t in Starfall Springs itself.

“Why d’you ask?”

“The place I’m going to for this job is called Widowsweb Court, but the library said it’s been abandoned for years, and I couldn’t find much about it on the internet either.”

He went still at the mention of its name. “Widowsweb you say?”

You nodded and realised you had the attention of everyone in your small group.

Sarrigan straightened and tucked a strand of his long, black hair behind a tapering ear. “It used to be part of the Silkfoot family holdings… way, way back,” he began, gesturing with his hand. “But about four hundred years or so ago, there was a disagreement between the then patriarch of the family and the dowager, his mother. He essentially annexed the property and disowned the entire estate. He could have sold it, but apparently he felt just guilty enough not to turf her out onto the street…”

“Why? I mean, what did she do?”

Sarrigan shrugged. “No idea. Knowing my family, it probably had something to do with anti-human sentiments…” he winked at you and added, “We really didn’t like your kind invading these parts…”

“We’re not exactly a majority round here,” his partner said, thwacking him in the belly with the back of a hand.

“True,” he said before turning back to you. “But you’re saying someone actually lives there?”

Damien leaned across and grinned, “Could be a long-lost relative, Sarrigan!”

“Well, whoever my employer is, they have a huge collection to reorganise, so I’m in.”

“You don’t even know the name of the person who’s paying you?” Damien gawped.

You shook your head. “A Mr. Ambleside is taking care of that. He’s apparently employed to keep the estate running and such… He’s the one who interviewed me.”

“Ambleside is an old family name from these parts,” Sarrigan said thoughtfully. “Well, you make sure you keep in touch, hmm?”

“Will do,” you nodded.

The only problem was, you discovered after Damien had dropped you off and fussed endlessly over you outside the tumble-down gates of the estate, that there was no phone reception way out here. Not even a single, sputtering bar.

As the tail lights of Damien’s truck disappeared, you pushed the iron gates open, the hinges screeching in protest loud enough that you thought your arrival would be announced all the way back down into Starfall, a two hour drive away.

Heaving your huge suitcase into your hand, you began to struggle down the driveway. Overgrown, potholed, and muddy, the road was barely even a road after the recent rain.

Ancient, thick-boled trees hung over the drive, branches meeting in the middle like lovers fingers interlaced, and after half a mile of walking, you stopped, exhausted, and sat on your suitcase. You’d made it out of the small, gnarled copse that bordered the edge of the estate, but the parklands that lay beyond seemed to stretch for miles. The thought of hauling your sizable suitcase all that way made you feel faint, especially in the stifling sun. There was at least a cooling breeze that lifted your hair and caressed your skin, but honestly, it was hopeless.

Eventually, after perhaps a quarter of an hour of sitting there, getting warmer and thirstier, and growing no less exhausted, you caught sight of a movement on the driveway. Squinting, you made out a horse and cart, and sitting atop the driver’s bench, a figure with a wide-brimmed hat on their head.

The closer they got, the more you were able to make out, and when they were perhaps fifty yards away, you stood up. They looked to be an elderly firbolg, with warm-brown skin and flaming red hair and beard.

The horse was an elderly, bony looking thing, and the cart just as rickety, but the firbolg drew to a halt beside you and barked your name in a familiar voice.

“Mr. Ambleside?”

“Yes, that’s me,” he said. “You’re early.”

“A little, yes.”

“Well, climb in. Do you need a hand with your bag?”

You looked at it, and then at the height of the cart bed. “If you wouldn't mind?”

He nodded and climbed carefully down. You weren’t sure how old firbolgs got, but he didn’t exactly look young. Having said that, he hauled your bag into the back like it weighed nothing at all and then helped you up to sit beside him on the bench before turning the cart around and heading back up the driveway.

The house itself was nestled in a clump of massive elm trees, masked from view until almost the last moment. “I’ll show you to the cottage, and then you can come up to the house for some refreshments. You’ll start work tomorrow at nine.”

You nodded, not wanting to rock the proverbial boat. “Is it just you and… er… your - our - employer here then?” you ventured after a few minutes of silence with only the rumbling of the cart for background noise.

He shrugged. “My boy works here in the grounds too, and there’s Chiara who tends to the household. Other than that, yes. And the master, of course.”

“Will I be meeting him?” you asked.

Mr. Ambleside looked positively scandalised. “Oh heavens no!” he gasped.

“Right. I see. He’s… unwell?”

That drew a deep scowl from the firbolg’s thick, heavy brows. “No,” he said, but it sounded like he was buying time. “No, he’s not unwell. He just… prefers a solitary life. You are to enter through the back door to the kitchens, proceed up the route to the library that I will show you, and return the same way when you’re done, is that clear?”

“Perfectly,” you said, wondering just what you’d got yourself into.

“If you need to use a telephone at any time, you may use the landline in my office.”

That news came as a huge relief, and you clung to it as you were shown the slightly dusty stable-house apartment just across the courtyard from the main house. Widowsweb Court was a massive country pile, with filigree stonework and steeply pitched, slate-tiled roofs, and it wouldn’t have looked out of place in a horror movie.

Your first week passed without incident. You assessed the vast, rambling collection, and saw immediately that it would definitely take much, much longer than the six months for which you’d been contracted to get to grips with it and get it into a decent order. Even if you had a team of ten strong people to help you, there was no way you could reorganise all the shelves in the cavernous library. It was as large and as varied as any national archives, and contained books and scrolls on everything from ancient magic to the development of medicine in various countries across the world.

Travel journals were rammed in next to tomes on mathematics, poetry beside animal husbandry, and gemology beside botany. There was no scheme to it, and after two weeks, you nearly had a complete breakdown.

Covered in dust and suddenly vastly overwhelmed by the looming, dark bookshelves, you simply sat down on the floorboards and let your head fall forwards into your hands. This was a gargantuan effort for one person to tackle alone.

Something rattled in the stacks and you gasped, sitting up straight, heart hammering. “Hello?”

Silence followed, but after only another few seconds, you heard a skittering of limbs and the slam of a door. Except, there was only one doorway to the library, and it was behind you.

Standing somewhat shakily, you swiped your tears away and paced steadily along the floorboards towards the source of the noise. When you found nothing but dusty stacks and silent  books, you swallowed and turned away.

At supper that night, you ate with Mr. Ambleside and his son, Naril, who was perhaps a year or two younger than you, and looked very much like his father. Noticing your pensive expression, he leaned over and asked in his softly-articulated purr if everything was alright. “You look… I don’t know… Did something happen?”

You sighed, nudging food listlessly around your plate. “I was feeling a bit overwhelmed by the project today…” you said. “And… I heard a noise in the library that startled me, that’s all.”

The two of them exchanged looks and then Mr. Ambleside said, “That was probably the master…”

“But I thought…” you began, though you hardly knew what you thought about the mysterious person who supposedly ran the estate, pulling all the strings from a hidden room in the old house and never revealing himself to anyone.

“Why do you think he wanted the collection organised?” Mr. Ambleside chuckled into his potatoes. “He’s an avid reader, but doesn’t have the patience to do it himself. Plus, he doesn’t see too well any more.”

“Oh,” you breathed. “All those books, and… that seems so cruel… Is he very old?”

Naril shook his head. “No, he’s maybe ten years or so older than us? Chiara reads to him in the evenings if his eyes get tired, and —”

“—Naril, that’s enough,” Mr. Ambleside barked, and Naril’s fluffy ears tucked right back against his head. “We do not gossip about the master.”

“Sorry, father,” he said, shooting you a look that conveyed a fair bit. ‘If you want to know more, ask me when he’s not around’ it said.

For another week, your recataloguing was left undisturbed by noises, but after four weeks of being at Widowsweb Court, you encountered ‘the master’ for the first time, and he was nothing like you’d thought he would be, though perhaps the name of the place should have given it away.

Part Two --->

To be continued next Wednesday... Part Two is currently up on Patreon so you can read it right now on the Pixies and Goblins Tier.

___

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Currently I’m also running a CYOA for all tiers, with episodes releasing every Friday.

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[scapegrace74-blog]

Ginger Snap, Chapter 4

A/N  Here’s the next chapter installment of Ginger Snap.  I now have this story mentally plotted to its conclusion.  It will have a total of 6 chapters, with perhaps a wee epilogue.  In keeping with the theme, the title of this chapter is “Where There’s Smoke”.

Previous chapters are best enjoyed on my AO3 page, because I have a bad habit of going back and editing them after they’ve been posted.

I glanced around the sitting room, trying to see it through a stranger’s eyes.  Well, not a stranger.  Through Jamie’s eyes.

We had sold most of our furniture before leaving Boston, not considering it worth the expense of shipping across the Atlantic.  Frank hired an interior decorating firm to furnish the third floor Southside flat before we arrived.  The overall impression was stylish, if a bit soulless.  Having grown up a virtual nomad, there were no mementos or heirlooms to speak for my personal journey.  For the first time, I regretted their absence.

The buzzer rang, and I shook away my wistfulness.  Jamie’s tousled curls and reckless grin greeted me as I opened the door.  Today he wore a fitted navy jumper, faded grey jeans with frays about the ankles and the ubiquitous work boots.  A messenger bag was slung across his broad chest.  

“I hope I wasn’t supposed to supply the ingredients for today’s lesson, because my cupboards are bare,” I remarked after inviting him in.

“Jus’ as well.  I wouldna squander yer food.  I have all we need right here.”  Reaching into his bag, he removed a clear container filled with chunks of pink meat swimming in a broth of blood.  I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

“What sort of dish will I be making with those?”

Those summer eyes shone in merry provocation.

“No’ a dish, Arsonist.  An experiment.”  

Two saucepans were set on the stove.  Jamie had me place a few pieces of meat into the water of one pot before it warmed.  To the other I added a pinch of salt and a clove of garlic, but waited until it came to a boil before adding the chicken.  After five minutes, I used tongs to move the now-pale flesh to waiting salad plates.  Neither looked particularly appetizing, but the first pot yielded a glutinous blob.

“I suppose this is the control group,” I remarked, looking at Jamie where he leaned against my countertop, ankles crossed like a cover model.  “I’m already quite familiar with what culinary failure looks like, thank you.”

“No’ failure.  Variability,” my teacher argued.  “See here?  If ye want meat tae dissolve til it doesna hold its texture, low heat is key.  An’ if ye want tae infuse it with flavour, always combine heat an’ seasoning at the same time.”

I took a small nibble of chicken from the second pot, and sure enough it tasted mildly of garlic.  It was otherwise quite bland, though.  When I commented on this, Jamie nodded in excitement.

“Aye, verra good.  Nature seeks equilibrium, as ye well know.  Sae now ye have poultry tha’ tastes o’ water and water tha’ tastes o’ chicken.  If ye were makin’ a stew or chicken stock, t’would be a good thing.  Fer anything else, tis shite.”

I laughed, getting into the spirit of his well-executed game.

“Have ye any music?” he asked while we cleared away the results of round one.  “I always cook better with a bit o’ background noise.”

There was a high-end stereo system in the living room, but I doubted Jamie would be interested in Frank’s collection of Brahms, Mahler and Celtic harp.  Seeing my hesitation, Jamie dug out a portable speaker from his bag.

“Do ye mind?”  I shook my head and soon my kitchen hummed with guitar chords and plangent vocals.

The lesson lasted far longer than the scheduled hour.  Jamie had me bake, fry, roast and braise different samples, each time explaining why a particular technique might be used and insisting I taste the result.  It was so much fun, I shed my habitual reticence while cooking.

“An’ now fer the pièce de résistance,” Jamie announced in dramatic tones.  From his seemingly bottomless messenger bag he removed what appeared to be a miniature flame thrower.

“What the fuck is that?” I asked, forgetting myself.

“I wanted ye tae ken there’s a place fer fire in the kitchen, Arsonist.  Tis only a question of picking yer moment.”

With a flick of his lighter, he set the butane alight and handed me the small kitchen torch.  Using extreme caution, I seared the outside of the two remaining morsels until they were a rich caramel colour.  Jamie then wrapped them in foil, placing them in the oven to finish cooking.  When they were cool enough to sample, the outside was pleasingly crunchy and sweet, while the inside swam in moist chicken-y flavour.  We both declared them the winner.

“Tis a funny thing about fire,” Jamie remarked as he packed up his bag to leave by the more conventional front door route.  “It can remain hidden beneath the surface, burying its secrets deep inside.  Doesna mean it doesn’t burn, though.”

I thought about what he’d said long after he was gone, leaving me alone with his signature scent of rising bread and salt air.

That weekend, I blamed the poor weather when I declined Frank’s offer to shop for an engagement ring.

***

The next week, instead of asking to be buzzed inside, Jamie requested that I join him downstairs.

Grabbing a Mackintosh, my purse and slipping into comfortable walking shoes, I joined Jamie outside my door.  He was particularly animated, despite the foul weather.

“We should ha’ started wi’ this lesson, but t’wasn’t the right day fer it,” he explained as we walked towards the farmers’ market that took place twice a week in the shadow of Castle Hill.

I considered protesting that I already knew how to shop for food, but Jamie’s enthusiasm was contagious.

We stopped at every stall, sampling the foodstuff on display, which was surprisingly varied despite it being November.  Jamie knew most of the merchants by name and our progress was regularly halted by conversations on topics as varied as his family’s health, the latest rugby results and Scottish politics.  I envied his wide circle of acquaintance and apparent ease interacting with them.  There was no pretense, no stiffness, just a man who inhabited every square centimetre of his life to the fullest.

Jamie insisted that I taste various produce before adding it to the cloth bag he’d provided.  Honey-crisp apples.  Peppery radishes.  Herb-infused venison sausage.  

“Close yer eyes,” he instructed when I was practically dizzy with all the flavours.  Still, I complied immediately.  A rubbery moisture tickled my lips.  “Open,” he said simply.  I opened.  “Tell me what ye taste, Arsonist.”

I chewed the morsel of cheese thoughtfully, letting the taste and texture coat my mouth before finally swallowing.

“Creamy.  Thick.  Salty.  Sorrel.”

I opened my eyes only to fall into the inky vortex of Jamie’s pupils, which had expanded to almost eclipse his irises.  His hand still hovered near my mouth, muscles frozen in abstraction.  The cheesemonger let out an awkward little cough.  Jamie blinked, and the moment vanished.

“Sorrel?” he asked a bit gruffly.

“Yer lass has a fine palate, Fraser.  My sheep graze in fields full o’ it.”

I allowed myself a smug little smile.  Neither of us corrected the merchant’s presumptive pronoun.

Later that evening, I sat cross-legged before the fire with a picnic for one.  Frank had called from his office earlier to say he was working on notes for an upcoming symposium.  Before me lay the results of the afternoon’s market adventure.  Closing my eyes as I ate,  every mouthful set my senses ablaze.

We never found time to visit the jeweler that weekend either.

***

The next week, I fell ill with a miserable head cold.   Frank was in Oxford for his symposium, so I called Ginger Snap myself and explained to Jenny in a hoarse voice that Jamie should avoid coming to my flat at all costs.

I was curled up in a mentholated daze when there was a series of knocks.  It took several minutes to free myself from my blanket cocoon and shuffle to the front door.  Glancing in the entryway mirror, my hair called to mind an electrified poodle and my nose was twelve shades of raw, but I opened the door anyway.  No-one was there.  Leaning out to peer down the hallway, I practically tripped over a brown paper bag resting at my feet.

Inside was a metal thermos, still quite warm to the touch.  As I unscrewed the cap, my stuffed nose was assailed by fragrant steam.  Homemade cock-a-leekie soup.  I felt a glow fill my chest that had nothing to do with my fever.  Pouring a helping into a mug, I shuffled back to my couch-nest.  I felt better already.

***

The following week, Jamie was distracted.  I’d thanked him profusely for the soup, and asked if he could show me how to make it for myself.  As the chicken thighs and stock began to warm, however, I caught him glancing regularly at his phone, fingers drumming against his thigh.

“Are you expecting an important text?” I finally asked.

“Hmm?  Och, Arsonist, I’m verra sorry.  Tis only that we got a last-minute request tae cater a big corporate Christmas party, an’ Jenny is beside herself wi’ worrying.”  He tucked him phone into the pocket of his cargo pants.

“When’s the party?”

“T’morrow,” he confessed.

“What!  Jamie, what are you doing here?  You should have called me to reschedule.”

“T’wouldna be fair, what wi’ us missing last week on account of yer sniffles.  An’ wi’ Christmas ‘round the corner, I didna ken when I’d... er, when we’d have time for another lesson.”

I turned off the burner with a decisive twist.  Jamie opened his mouth to lodge a protest, but I beat him to the punch.

“Jamie, the soup will keep.  Growing your business is more important. I wish there was something more I could do to help, but under the circumstances...”

“Come wi’ me?” he blurted out.

I was nodding before the words finished leaving his mouth.  Notwithstanding the fact that he had just literally been teaching me how to boil water, I didn’t want to lose his company so soon.   We likely wouldn’t see one another again until after the New Year.

It was a thirty minute walk to Leith.  Jamie could probably have covered the distance in half that with his long strides, were it not for me trotting along beside him.  We stopped at several shops along the way to pick up provisions, arriving at Ginger Snap with our arms laden with the freshest food Edinburgh had to offer.

I had expected Jenny and Jamie to be working alone, but the fire station was abuzz with activity.  I was hastily introduced to Angus, a distant Fraser cousin; Mary, a childhood friend of Jenny’s; and Murtagh, Jamie and Jenny’s godfather.  They worked together like a well-oiled machine, and I stood awkwardly to one side, wondering what the hell I was doing there.  I was preparing to make my excuses when Jamie called me over to a spare station.  He gestured to the commercial-sized sink, which was full of vegetables of every dimension and colour.

“Claire, I need ye tae rinse and then cut these inta nice even pieces.  Can ye do tha’ fer me?”

"Consider it done, chef,” I said with a jaunty salute.

There was a feeling of camaraderie as we each went about our assigned tasks.  I chopped.  Mary baked.  Angus filleted.  Jamie cooked, and Jenny plated the various canapés, salads and sauces and stored them in the enormous refrigerators that lined the back wall.    Murtagh’s role seemed mostly to keep the troops in line with an assortment of verbal barbs. 

Music played in the background.  Volleys of witty banter flowed between us, but never at the expense of the work or anyone’s feelings.  Angus nicked himself with his filleting knife, and Jenny sent him to my station for treatment, saying I was the team’s resident doctor.  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so at home.

Time passed quickly and before I knew it, it was dark outside.  The bulk of the work was done and the pace slackened, the pressure of the looming deadline relieved.  One by one we cleared our stations, meeting at the small seating area to share a well-earned drink.

Jenny sunk into the couch beside me and let out a loud sigh.

“Ouf, I canna believe we got it all done.  Claire, ye were a godsend.  Normally I do most o’ the prep work, but it leaves me no time tae arrange the dishes.”

I demurred, uncomfortable with the praise.

“Nay, Arsonist, ye were amazing,” Jamie began to object, but he was interrupted by my phone buzzing.  Glancing down, I felt my face fall.   I’d completely forgotten about Frank.  Now he was texting, asking me where I was.  I quickly fired off a reply, then stuffed the phone into my pocket.

“Everything alright?” Jenny asked.

“Oh, yes.  It’s only my fiancé, asking when I might be home,” I answered, still distracted by my uncharacteristic lapse.  As I glanced up, I ran straight into Jamie’s iceberg gaze.

“I didna realize ye were engaged,” he looked pointedly at my bare ring finger.  “Congratulations.”  

He said the word as though every syllable pained him.  I quelled the urge to explain, to say it wasn’t a real engagement because I’d never agreed, that I’d only been looking for a sense of security, but somehow found myself in a cage.

Instead I hastily finished my drink, called myself an Uber and quietly wished everyone a good night, all while avoiding the many questions written across Jamie’s expressive face.

[guessimwritingficsagain]

Delightful, chapter five

Previously : Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter three, Chapter four

------

In the wake of your break-up, your friend Martha decided it was time for you to go out and let loose, just so you could forget both about James and about Javier. Though you weren’t sold on the idea, you let her drag you out. It’d been months, after all. Time to move on, especially because somehow, after James broke up with you, Javier disappeared from your life again. The bastard.

That’s how you found yourself getting a refill at the counter of a small place you both liked to hang out at. As you turned your head, scanning the crowd while the bartender was making your drinks, you spotted the man. Javier was sitting at a table a bit in the dark, in very good company. He was whispering something in the ear of a very very pretty woman, the kind who looked like she could be on the cover of some magasine. So much for forgetting about Javier Peña tonight.

The wave of bitterness wasn’t unexpected but still unwelcome : you didn’t see him anymore but here he was, very much alive and very much not working. So you turned your head around, paid the bartender, took the drinks and went back to your table, determined not to let the man ruin your night. Your brain obviously disagreed, though, because as soon as you sat down, your mouth, almost on its own volition, spat :

‘He’s here.’

‘James ?’

You shook your head.

‘Oh.’

After a beat, she asked :

‘Where is he sitting ?’

‘Other side of the room.’ You mumbled.

She took a look, trying to spot him even though she’d never seen him.

‘Let me guess : moustache guy.’

You grumbled in answer.

‘Nice. I see the appeal. But listen, he’s all the way over there, you got your back to him, there’s no reason to bump into him at all. Just … take the long way round to go to the bathroom, you know.’

Martha was right. The was no reason for you to get all worked up. You were friends, he’d probably been busy and he had every right to relax with some pretty lady after your ex broke up with you because of him. That wasn’t on him, that was on you. He didn’t even know about that.

So you had fun, and pointedly turned your back to Javier every time it was your turn to get drinks. You sensed someone sit down right next to you at some point but didn’t think much of it.

‘Nice dress. Trying to get lucky ?’

Fuck.

‘Hey, Javier.’

You didn’t bother pretending to be surprised, sensing he’d see right through it.

‘Why didn’t you come say hi ?’

You shrugged, and made up an excuse :

‘You have company and we’re having a girls’ night.’

He leaned to take a look at our table and waived at Martha, whom you turned to see with her eyebrows raised, clearly ready to get you out of here.

‘We never got a chance to talk about what happened.’ He suddenly said, and added as he saw how confused you were : ‘With James.’

‘Nothing to talk about.’

‘Something must have happened.’

You glanced at his table, seeing the woman he was with patiently waiting. He caught you, and filled in :

‘She knows I’m catching up with a friend. Maybe your pal and her could keep each other company.’

He said the word ‘friend’ with what seemed like mockery, as a hand went casually to your shoulder, like he was trying to keep you here. The asshole.

‘So, James ?’

You understood, then, he wouldn’t let go. You chose your next words carefully, choosing the safest option : not quite a lie, not quite the truth.

‘He was thinking of proposing.’

The hand on your shoulder squeezed and you relished in the fact that Javier was a bit thrown off by that.

‘And you didn’t want him to ? Why ?’

You shrugged and thanked the bartender as he handed you your drinks. The pressure on your shoulder grew insistant.

‘You’re lying to me.’ You heard Javier say. ‘Tell me the truth. That man was head over heels for you. Gave me a fucking speech once when you went to the bathroom, telling my how he didn’t really understand our relationship but respected the bond we shared. He would have accepted it if you didn’t want to propose. What happened ?’

There was so much to unpack there you were stunned for a minute. The way Javier said the word bond, the same way he’d said the word friends before, the fact James had talked to Javier at some point …

You turned sharply towards him, and snapped :

‘What did you tell him, Javier ? What did you tell him that day ?’

He leaned in.

‘Nothing. Should I have said something ?’

‘No.’

You hated how good he was looking, right now, you hated the tension in the air, the way the bartender was obviously listening, out of curiosity, or maybe, trying to assess if he should intervene.

‘What do you want, Javier ?’

‘I want to know why you broke up with him. The real reason.’

‘I didn’t. He broke up with me.’

You didn’t even feel bad for the glee that filled you at the pure astonishment that showed on his face at that.

‘Bullshit.’

‘It’s true. And I gave him a good reason for that.’

Javier had been an asshole in the past, had made some sharp comments about your sex life, but you would never have thought to hear from him the words he said next :

‘What ? Got you bored in bed so you went to have a little fun elsewhere ?’

The comment stunned you so much you didn’t stop to think about Javier would never push that far. He wasn’t mean like that. You quickly got up, and the hand on your shoulder dropped to your belly, the gesture out of place. You smacked his hand away.

‘Don’t touch me. How dare you ? Just because you have to fuck a different woman every night, and … Just because you can’t settle or be faithful to someone … Fuck you. Don’t ever show your face at my house again. Find another couch to sleep on. I’m done with you.’

———

Two weeks later, Javier showed up at the bar, took a seat, and stayed until closing time. You spent the night on edge, spilling drinks all over and messing up orders. Javier made no move to get out when you announced it was time to go home. By the time it was only him, Emil and you inside, you could wut the tension with a knife. Emil hurriedly left and you didn’t blame him.

‘I’m gonna lock you in, Peña.’

He just looked at you for a few seconds, his gaze unwavering, and explained :

‘I wanted you to be angry at me.’

You closed your eyes, just to compose yourself. You should throw him out, you knew that. But you still walked over to him, and sat on a barstool next to him. You didn’t answer, though. You weren’t ’t going to talk first. What left his mouth then took you by surprise.

‘I left a woman at the altar, once.’

Fuck, you were going to need alcohol for that. You got up, grabbed a bottle of whisky for him, and poured yourself a glass of vodka before coming back to sit down.

‘I did something bad. Told you that before.’ He started, lighting a cigarette, fire casting a yellow shadow on his face, as most of the lights were off in the bar. ‘That’s what got me sent home.’

A moment of silence, and then :

‘I worked with Los Pepes, to get Escobar.’

You remembered Los Pepes, you remembered what they had done. You didn’t say anything, though. When he understood you weren’t going to talk, he went on :

‘When I was working with them, I thought it was best to not come see you. You never know what can happen, and things were escalating pretty quickly.’

You remembered that too. Vividly. You also remembered the phone calls from your parents, frantically asking you please come home.

‘That woman, the one I left I mean … I saw her again, back home. She basically told me she was glad we never got married. You’d think I’d be relieved. I wasn’t. Kept thinking about how much of an asshole I was. And the worst part was everyone thought I was a hero. So when I came back here, I just …’

He paused, took a drag.

‘Listen, I was surprised. You had this nice guy with you. That wasn’t the issue. The problem was that, before, you were the one to give me shit when I was an asshole, okay ? And ever since I’ve been back into your life, you haven’t even asked. You waited ‘till I talked. You were being too fucking nice, giving me space and shit, never questioning why I never called you, never blaming me for anything. That wasn’t what I expected, or what I needed. Add James to the mix and I thought I’d lost you, for good. I thought I’d fucked up so bad you didn’t even care enough to get angry at me, and that somehow you let me sleep on your couch and hang out out of pity. So I just … I wanted you to be angry at me. I wanted to know you cared.’

‘That’s fucked up, Javier.’

‘I know. The look on your face the other day, I never want to see that again.’

‘You hurt me.’

‘I’m sorry, babe.’

One of his hand shot on your knee, just resting there. With his other hand, he poured himself another drink, the cigarette now in the ashtray. You took a moment to define what you were feeling, to put the right words in the right order. Carefully, you eventually explained :

‘I’ve been really angry at you. You had no right to say what you said, to assume …’

‘I didn’t mean it.’ He cut you off. ‘I didn’t mean any of that shit. You were in this bar, and you were ignoring me and I couldn’t stand it. I’m sorry.’

The silence lingered, as his thumb started tracing random patterns on the side of your knee. After a while, looking at your glass, you repeated :

‘You hurt me.’

That stilled his hand.

‘You think … You think you can forgive me ?’

You pretended to ponder the question carefully, even though you knew the answer already. At the end of the day, you cared too much about Javier Peña to lose him because of some dumb remark made in the heat of the moment. You settled with :

‘You’re not off the hook yet.’

You were smiling at him, though. Something tiny and timid, but that spurred him on. He jumped off the barstool and set himself right between your legs, both hands on your knees, now, and whispered :

‘That’s my girl.’

And then, quieter, and shy, he added :

‘I missed you.’

Having him that close was overwhelming, the heat from his body a pleasant invitation to lean in. Except you shouldn’t. He wasn’t off the hook yet. You whispered back, though :

‘I missed you too.’

Both of his thumbs were drawing circles on the inside of your knees and you closed your eyes for a bit, still feeling his on your face. You let your head drop on his shoulder, despite your best intentions. He stepped even closer to you, as his hands started moving a little bit up and down your thighs.

‘I’m here, now, babe. And I’m never pulling that kind of shit again.’

‘Promise.’

He didn’t hesitate :

‘I promise. Can’t afford to lose my best girl again, especially not to some teacher who’s gonna woo you with books.’

You stopped breathing at his hidden admission.

‘Javier …’

You voice was wavering, the weight of the situation crashing down on you, pining you here.

‘If you’re gonna tell me to fuck off, I will. But I’m pretty confident in my odds, here. We could be so good together, you know that.’

Your hands went to his hair. He hummed in satisfaction.

‘James knew.’ You admitted quietly. ‘That’s why he let me go.’

Javier’s hands jerked on your thighs, and he urgently asked :

‘Wait, did he think you cheated on him with me ?’

You raised your head and reassured him.

‘No, no, nothing like that. But he knew he was my second choice.’

Javier smiled at that.

‘Yeah ?’ He asked, as his hands slowly traveled to the inside of your thighs. You put your forehead to his temple, sinking into him. You hadn’t realized how wet you were.

Javier’s hands stopped, and squeezed.

‘Please tell me you want this as much as I do.’ He almost begged.

You wanted it, so much.

You whispered a breathy yes and his hands went back to work. You pressed against him and whispered :

‘Javier, we’re in a bar.’

‘It’s closed. Lights are mostly off. There’s no one in the streets. ’ He quipped back, a finger tugging at your underwear.

He slightly grazed your clit, then, making you gasp. He asked :

‘You want this ?’

One of your hands left his hair and grasped his neck as you breathed :

‘Yes’

He put a finger into you. One, and then two, a thumb on your clit. You felt so good you didn’t know what to do with yourself. And then Javier started mumbling nonsense into you ear, about how much he’d missed you, about how wet you were, about how much he’d wanted that to happen.

You came when his mouth finally found yours.

———————————————-

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@pedritobalmando @amidjarin @ajeff855 @justpedropascal @sara-alonso @sarahjkl82-blog @amidjarin @sara-alonso @justpedropascal

[justanotherlifeff]

Warning: Slight angst

Yes, you officially hated Bakugou Katsuki, the man who gave you a promotion, only to make you deal with his nonsense even more. Yep, you did get paid more than before but honestly, no amount of money can amount to the level of pain this man puts you through. Yes, for once, you are not complaining about the piles of paperwork (which surprisingly is less than before). In fact, paperwork was the easiest part of the job. What drove you crazy was dealing with his PR team.

As his assistant, it was your job to make sure that he stayed out of trouble from the media and oh boy, this man was always a pinch close to having a scandal every single day. You wondered how the hell did he even manage to do that? You, in time, realized that this time bomb of a man lived in his own little world where he was the king of everything and everyone (much like his old hero name, king explosion murder, as you found out from an interview with Pro hero Shouto) and he aimed to do whatever he pleased. By whatever, you meant, yelling at random civilians, blasting off reporters if they asked him too much questions, and not to mention, the number of women who claims to have slept with him on social media. Well, he did sleep with them but that was not something good for a Pro Hero’s reputation.

Yep, this man did whatever the hell he wanted to and guess who had to face the consequences of his actions? You. Hell, this man just did not listen! You honestly felt bad about yelling at him about his actions since he decided to just hand the job over to you, when you were clearly not qualified enough. Which is why, you decided to take a different approach towards the entire situation.

You had noticed that there was a small group of people that Bakugou trusted (surprisingly) and while they were near Bakugou since high school, you decided that you needed to earn his respect to exactly that level. Which is why, you planned to ask the grumpy pro hero to have lunch with you every day. Of course, your home cooked meals were far better than the ones sold at the cafeteria. There was no way that he could refuse good food.

“You didn’t season the meat properly and the curry isn’t spicy enough”, he said. ‘Would I lose my job if I punch him right now?’ you wondered. “Well, why don’t you cook me something better then?” you asked instead, not being able to control the glare that came with it. “As if I’m gonna waste my time on something as stupid as that.” He scoffed, drinking his water. “I thought so.” You answered with a victorious smile. That means he surely can’t cook as good as you right? His opinion on your cooking totally didn’t matter in that case. “Hah? Are you fucking challenging me? I’ll show you how cooking is done!” he growled at you, making you chuckle at his outburst.

Yep, you were now gobbling down the food of the extra bento he brought from home. Seems like his cooking was as good as his critiquing. He was at the Gordon Ramsey level. “Now that’s what you call good food.” He commented cockily as he looked at you eating like you were starved for a month. “THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE ONLY THING I AM GOOD AT!” you exclaimed. “Well, I’m the best at everything!” he announced cockily. “Well, not dealing with people and the media apparently” you grinned at him. “As if those extras even matter.” Bakugou scoffed as he ate his own food.

“Well, why don’t you bring your own food? The cafeteria food sucks ass compared to, well, this gourmet level shit….” You mumbled, stuffing your face with rice. “Tch... Don’t talk with your mouth full, dumbass. And, it’s not like I have the time to cook my fucking lunch. My patrols start at 5 am remember?” Bakugou grumbled, before sticking his chopstick in his mouth. “You really do overwork yourself, Bakugou-san…” you sighed before an idea, or as you liked calling this last minute obviously stupid idea as ‘plan B’, struck your head. “Why don’t you teach me how to cook?” you asked him, looking clearly excited.

You were surprised that you were able to pull that obviously ridiculous plan off. “No!” he answered immediately back then, looking at you as if you just asked him to jump off a roof (though you do agree that asking him to teach you how to cook probably was very close to that). After making your infamous puppy eyes (which never worked but surprisingly did this time) and reminding him about that one time you got completely overworked due to him not noticing that his assistant was not working, he actually agreed to teach you, despite his complains about you being a ‘sneaky bastard’. Which is why, you were now waiting patiently for him to give you a video call, right after work, to teach you how to ‘at least know how to season food like a normal person’.

“YOU ARE PUTTING TOO MUCH PEPPER! YOUR FUCKING ASS IS GONNA BURN FROM HOW SPICY THIS IS GONNA BE!” He was yelling at you, making you want to punch through the phone. “OH, FUCK OFF! DON’T FUCKING ACT AS IF YOUR FOOD DOESN’T LOOK RED AS FUCK! OFCOURSE, YOU PUT A SHIT TONNE OF SPICE ON IT!” You yelled back. “THAT’S CHILLY POWDER YOU FUCKING DONKEY!” He yelled, to which you replied, “WELL, WHY DON’T YOU SHOW ME FIRST HAND HOW TO COOK INSTEAD OF YELLING THROUGH A FUCKING PHONE?”

When he cut the call, you expected to lose your job and never see him again. “Well, maybe it’s not gonna be that bad right?” you wondered. What you did not expect was for him to show up at your apartment within 10 minutes. “How the fuck did you know my address?” was the first thing out of your mouth. “Your resume, dimwit. The bigger question is, how the fuck do you live here?” he asks, looking around at your studio apartment, that was way too small for someone as big as him. “Well, I’m not as big as a fucking tower, am I?” you grumbled, letting him enter the place. “Heh, you’re right about me being as big as a tower, geddit?” Bakugou gave you a smug grin, making you blush furiously. “Oh, shut the fuck up! What the hell are you doing here in the first place?” you asked, trying to hide your blush.

You wondered how the hell this asshole made you blush every single minute as he taunted your shitty chopping board skills, while moving around in the tiny kitchen (which seemed even tinier now), barely having any personal space between the two of you. “I’m gonna show up after work tomorrow too. I can’t teach your clumsy ass in one day…” Bakugou sighed as he wiped his sweaty forehead. “Sure” you answered, glad that the rather handsome man was finally going to leave and you could think about your unexpected feelings more properly.

On the other hand, the angry blond, while he was terribly good at hiding his emotions, couldn’t help but feel a certain way towards his new assistant. It started with seeing you frantically trying to deal with his PR team, juggling his paperwork at the same time, and being so obviously done with his shit, and yet, being nice to him for God knows what reason. It all made him want to make you lose your shit, get angry and demand him to get in line. Hell, you’d probably look hot when you’re angry. The fact that he was completely right was proved when you yelled at him through your phone, since it was just a video call between two acquaintances, instead of him being your boss. He couldn’t help but show up at your house after that, only to have that weird feeling intensify as he saw you being clumsy as hell in that tiny ass apartment. Hell, he might end up buying you a bigger apartment at this rate.

The next day turned into a week and then, a month. Every day, Bakugou would say that he’s not done with teaching you and that he would come back the next day, only to teach you some random very difficult French cooking technique, hoping it was a French ‘something else’. You started spending more time with the grumpy hero at lunch break as you cooked him a decent lunch every day, only to have him grumble about how ‘it could be better’ and yet find no excuse on how it isn’t already perfect. You never argued about it either as it would result in one more day of cooking lessons.

You hated Bakugou Katsuki as he still lived as if he owned this world. You hated that his crazy fangirls would throw themselves at him and he would relish in that. You hated that you had to deal with his PR team thanks to his fuckboy ways, when you clearly hated seeing him with those snobby fangirls. You hated Bakugou Katsuki because you love him, because everybody loves him.

Taglist: @bonbonthedragon @the2ndl

[jeogiyall]

Pas De Deux; H.HJ

Word Count; 9.7k

Genre; Fluff, Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, Reader X Hyunjin

Warnings; Swearing, Suggestive, I would advise against reading if you have abandonment issues? It’s brought up a few times,,

Additional; Featured Chan, Felix, Jisung, and Minho; Ballerina Reader, Dance Partner Hyunjin, Reid once again writing about something that she has no idea how to do, (Sort Of) Slow Burn

A/N; when i tell u guys that i literally have no self control,, THE ORIGINAL DRAFT OF THIS WAS 10.46K ASFDSFS someone save me from myself. i’m sorry if anything’s inaccurate, i haven’t done ballet since i was like five and most of my research is from the unreliable internet,,, so if any ballerinas read this and are repulsed i’m sorry asdfdsa. please leave something nice if you enjoy <3<3<3<3

The last time that you saw Hwang Hyunjin was in fifth grade. You were wrapped up in each other on your front porch, him choking out tears as though it hurt. 

“Jinnie!” You cooed while running a hand through his short black hair, “I’m not dying, just going to boarding school!” His cries (along with the ringing guilt in your ears) only grew louder, “You’re really good at dancing, just audition next year!” He shook his head fervently against the crook of your shoulder, wet tears falling onto your skin.

“You know I suck at ballet!” If it weren’t for his palms pulling at his teary cheeks you would’ve giggled, maybe even teased him for the time in class that he almost broke his wrist while warming up at the barre. But he was crying, he was sad, and he was convinced that he’d never see you again. The sight alone was enough to make you pout, which only served to make him cry harder, “You could join my contemporary class for the summer?” He asked with starry, red eyes. It was almost enough to make you say yes.

“You know that I suck at contemporary!” The boy giggled at your counter, a sound that made your heart soar amidst all of the crying.

“Yea, you do...” He brought a hand up to his cheeks, trying desperately to wipe away tears that wouldn’t stop falling, “Just promise that you won’t forget me! I won’t forget you so you can’t forget me!” His pinky finger extended so it was nearly brushing the spot in between your eyebrows, and you were hit by the whispers of your first crush. With the summer days spent riding scooters in your driveway, and the winter ones spent sledding in it. With the long nights spent giggling about nothing underneath a blanket fort, or the endless days spent climbing trees in the bottomless woods behind the boys house. You were hit with the last five years all at once, and you knew instantly that even if he wasn’t standing in front of you with a teary face that you would still promise.

“I promise.” You answered while hooking your pinky in his as if it were a vow.

The school ended up being a perfect fit, your favorite part being the dorm room all to yourself. Even though it was small, and very ugly, it was all yours. Just like the friend group that blossomed out of your first ever co-ed class (which is sadly not a very interesting story. Han Jisung just made you swear to not dislocate his shoulders during partner stretches, and who are you to break a promise? Afterwards you received an invite to sit with him and his friend at lunch, the rest is history. Loud, annoying history.)

Nothing could’ve made it better... Well, nothing except for your sweet friend who had once occupied each thought in your head. Your sweet friend who’s summers were suddenly too full to see you, even for just a day. 

Your sweet friend who didn’t keep his promise.

* 

When it was announced that the contemporary and ballet branches of your dance institute would be merging for a year, your mind immediately jumped to Hyunjin. Despite not seeing him for almost six years. He always had such a passion for the style, making you miss out on hours of homework to watch videos of his favorite performers (it’s not like you minded too much, though.)

Han’s, on the other hand, was pure rage. Pure rage which he was letting out from your bed while watching you unpack.

“I just don’t get why they have to take a ballet class too! I have enough trouble getting solos as is.” The boy pouts while resting his head on your orange wood headboard. You’d feel sympathetic if it weren’t for the fact that he was blatantly lying, Han Jisung had gotten nearly every solo since eighth grade. Instead you roll your eyes dramatically and throw him a wadded ball of fabric from your suitcase. Naturally, he screams.

“Shut the fuck up and be helpful.” You scold, earning a childish whine while he sits up to fold the countless leotards. 

“Remind me why I missed you?” He grumbles just as your other, much nicer, friend walks into the cramped room.

“Aww, you missed me Sungie?” Felix asks, voice booming deeply through the space. The two of you instantly drop the clothes in your hands and run to the boy, which you should reprimand Jisung for seeing as he just lifted a finger. But you don’t, because Felix is here with more freckles than the last time you saw him and fresh pink hair that’s definitely going to be dyed natural again within the first week.

“Yes.” The energetic boy answers while worming his way into your hug. Felix giggles softly while petting Han’s dark brown hair before pressing noisy kisses all over his cheeks. He pokes Felix’s ribs as retaliation, to which the boy screeches (directly into your ear, might I add,) and it’s back to the normal, loud chaos “I will kill you!”

“Hey! No murder in my room, if you’re gonna do that go in the hallway!” You snap playfully, pushing Jisung away while moving back into the hug, “Help me unpack? Jisung hasn’t done shit.”

“Not fair!” The boy shouts from your bed, which he’s already plopped back down on.

“I’ll help, besides do you even want him folding your clothes?” You look over your shoulder to see Jisung with his hands tangled up in three different leotards, then back to Felix with terrified eyes. 

‘No,’ you mouth, eliciting another laugh from your friend. He moves over to the bed as well, then sets Jisungs hands free. The three of you talk mindlessly for hours, rambling on about Felix’s summer home and the month that you and Jisung spent traipsing around the boys hometown.

“How do you feel about the merger?” You ask suddenly, cutting Jisung off in the middle of an embarrassing story about a night spent at his house. Felix sighs deeply while tossing you the rolled leotard (your favorite one, light blue with pearls sewn around the collar,) while Jisung throws a wadded up pair of tights at your face.

“It’s fine I guess, just for a year right?” You shrug while the brunette puts on a grimace, hands suddenly very busy with folding, “They really need that rebuild, building’s falling apart. Ours is way better and we have extra room, so why not share?” 

“Tell that to the rat in my mini fridge.” Han grumbles while passing you a pile of black leotards. You laugh and accept, but not before ruffling his stiff hair. 

“Okay, I’ll make sure to do that the next time I’m in your room. Are you done bitching now?” The brunette pokes his tongue out at you jokingly, to which you respond with blowing a raspberry, “Felix is right, besides how terrible is it going to be? We’re all dancers right, and stuff like that is meant to be shared. Who are we to say that they can’t come and learn?” The room turns uncomfortably quiet, Jisung gnawing at his lower lip while Felix picks up his phone.

“Damn it!” The Australian exclaims as his screen lights up. You and Han look at him with furrowed eyebrows before he rolls his eyes and brings the phone up in between your faces, “Administration says I have to fix my hair.” 

Han doubles over with laughter, knocking the mountain of leotards (followed shortly by himself) onto the floor. You follow his lead, and before you know it the three of you are clutching your sides and wiping away happy tears. Felix’s hands ruffle into your hair with a hum, “Maybe I can try Jisungs color, hmm?” You duck away with a snort.

“No! I draw the line at matching hair!” The brunette defends, hands moving to cover the top of his head. Felix lunges at him, fully ready to engage in a tickle fight. Naturally, Jisung screams as if he’s being murdered. It should be annoying, any other time you would find it annoying. But these are your best friends, one of which you haven’t seen in over a month, and for some odd reason your heart feels so full that it could explode. 

“C’mon Lix, I’ll do your hair. What do you think about blonde?” 

And even though tomorrow your school is going to be flooded with new people, and your classes full of students who have probably never done more than basic positions, in the moment it feels okay. Because one of your best friends is screaming ‘NO DON’T TOUCH MY HAIR!’ while the other assures him that ‘It’ll probably most likely be okay! Look, she did mine!’ It’s a perfect chaos that you wouldn’t trade for anything.

*    

There have been plenty of strange coincidences in your life. Like how your first dog was named Felix, and it’s now the name of one of your best friends (who’s hair ended up looking perfectly fine, thank you very much.) Or how your usual waiter at the diner in Jisungs hometown ended up being the cousin of your first kiss. Or how your dorm room is the only one on the hall with painted walls, that just so happen to be your favorite color. Plenty of weird things, but none are as weird as this. Because you’re sitting on the floor of your second class of the day, ‘Intro To Pas De Deux,’ and Hwang Hyunjin has just entered through the side door. Two minutes late.

He’s hard to recognize at first, seeing as there’s more than an added foot of height and black hair that’s creeping down the back of his neck, but the more you look the more you recognize. Pillowy lips, full cheeks, a freckle right in the set of his eye bags. You’re not entirely sold until he laughs, a sweet and breathy sound. The laugh that’s always been three seconds away from turning into a wheeze.

“What’s wrong?” Jisung questions while pulling himself up by your hands, eyes following the line that yours draw to Hyunjin, “Do you know him or something?” 

You’re about to answer when Hyunjin finally turns around, eyes scanning the room before settling on you. He thinks that you look different, too. Taller and slimmer, everything that used to be squishy replaced with soft muscle. But there’s also the bridge of your nose, your hands that are barely gripping Jisungs, and of course your eyes that are staring at him like it hurts. 

“(Y/n?)” He questions, your name falling from his lips as though it’s meant to do so. You nod, mouth falling open dumbly. The boy takes a step forward then freezes.

“Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on? Or at least help me finish stretching?” Jisungs voice reeks of annoyance, you think that if you weren’t in such a state of shock that you’d flick him on the forehead.

“You go to the contemporary school?” Jisung doesn’t take well to being ignored, puffing loudly while scrambling to finish stretching at the barre. Your brain immediately flashes back to Hyunjins second ballet class in third grade, when you were teaching him your favorite warm up stretches. He ended up tangled in between the barre and the wall, which shouldn’t even be possible, but Hyunjin managed. 

“Um... Yea.” Every inch of your body is screaming to stand up and engulf him in a hug, but your legs feel like jello. That, and there’s a small feeling of anger rising in your throat, “L-let me help.” He plops down in front of you before you can say yes. You don’t have to though, Hyunjin still knows that you can’t refuse him. You take his hands in yours, definitely ignoring the pink flush to his cheeks, and pull his torso towards you. 

“It’s been six years.” The words come out choked, full of the pain from your first summer without him. When you’d spend hours playing out in the sun, knocking on your friends front door every morning. He was never there. 

“Sorry.” You want him to show some type of emotion, let you know that he cares. That he’s actually sorry for breaking his promise, “I tried to come and see you in July but you weren’t home.” 

“I was at Jisung’s house, we spend the summers together.” If you were more angry and less hurt you would say ‘now that I don’t spend them with you,’  but he’s still Hyunjin. He’s still Hyunjin, and you don’t think that you could handle the way he would frown at your snide remark. 

Jisung flashes you a look from his place at the barre that reads ‘Who is this guy and why do you look so sad?’ You let Hyunjin pull you into the stretch while responding with a gaze that says ‘I’ll tell you later.’  Hyunjins grip tightens on your hands as you exhale deeply into the stretch, the light blue fabric of your leotard brushing against the dance studio floor.

“(Y/n,) I-” Maybe it’s the way that he licks his lips before talking, or the fact that he looks so much and so little like your best friend at the same time, or possibly even how you can feel the way that he hugged you at your last meeting sitting on your shoulders like a winter coat, but his hands suddenly feel like fire.

“I have to go!” You exclaim, popping up out of the stretch and onto your feet in one swift motion. The boy looks up at you with puppy dog eyes that spark a feeling so intense in you that you have to look away, “I have to go, I-I’ll um... I’ll see you around.” You dash off to the spot in front of Jisung, silently thanking every star in the sky that Hyunjin doesn’t have a chance to follow you. Because just as soon as you get up someone else sits down and begins to excitedly ask the boy questions (he’s short, with a petite frame and an unfamiliar face. Probably another transfer student.)

“Did he say something to you?” Jisung asks as you jump into your favorite warm up routine. There’s not really a right way to answer, because did he say anything just now? No, but six years ago he said that he’d never forget you. He promised as much, and then spent every moment doing nothing but that. You exhale while your feet continue to move instinctively, a slight sense of peace washing over you at the comfort of a routine. 

“We should focus, class is starting soon.” Jisung whines and argues, but you just ignore him. Similarly to how you ignore Hyunjins gaze on you for the rest of the class. 

*

Ignoring Hyunjin is much easier than you anticipated. In class you can distract yourself with Jisung before the teacher comes in, and lunch is fine enough. While he is there, sitting at a table that’s painfully close to yours, he doesn’t try to talk. Or worse, come and snatch up the free seat across from Felix. But no, he does nothing of the sort. Just laughs with his friends and shoots the occasional glance your way (the one composed of sparkly eyes and lips that are a breath away from pouting.)

But then there’s now, standing in the doorway of your stage chemistry class and Hyunjin is all that you can see. Hyunjin, standing in the center of the room and pressing play on the terribly outdated stereo. Hyunjin, running a hand through his raven black hair and inhaling deeply with closed eyes. All you wanted was to get your jacket, but now you have enough Hyunjin for a lifetime.

Loud, bass heavy music swells in the room as he starts to move. At first the movements are jerky, awkward almost. But then the music decrescendos every so softly and he exhales, then proceeds to move as if the dance is being pulled out of him. As if this choreo is the way that he was programmed to move. When the song peaks you swear that you feel tears prickling the back of your eyes, because this is so Hyunjin. The way he’s dancing with every bone in his body, the way his hair is now dripping in sweat and flying all around him, the way his plump lips suck in air. It’s Hyunjin down to the core, and you’ve missed him so much.

When the music dies you clap slowly, causing the boy to shoot up like a frightened cat. He whips around to where you stand, softening like butter when he sees your frame leaned up against the wooden door frame.

“You scared me!” He shrieks, bringing up a hand to clutch his chest. It reminds you of your last Halloween with him, when the two of you got to trick or treat alone. Hyunjin decided that it would be a great idea to go to a fear farm, in which he screeched and clung to you the entire time. It wasn’t even that scary, he’s just a baby.

“Sorry.” You answer, mouth going as dry as the desert, “You, um... You’re really good.” He laughs flatly while moving over to his dance bag to pull out a towel. You watch as he dabs the sweat away, something stupid and needy churning in your stomach. You write it off as hunger.

“Thanks, I still suck at ballet though.” It’s a joke, you know it’s a joke, but something about laughing feels wrong.

“You don’t.” You take a step into the room, wandering over to where your windbreaker is piled on the floor next to the boy, “I’ve seen you in class, and you’re not bad. Just out of practice.” He lets out another flat laugh while dropping the towel, quickly exchanging it with a water bottle.

“Yea, about nine years out of practice. I barely even remember how to do a pirouette.” He’s trying so hard to make you laugh, just like the old days. The growing tension in your shoulders and lump in your throat is preventing that from happening.

“I can teach you.” You offer while shrugging the jacket on. Within seconds he’s babbling out excuses, which you wave off, “Don’t even worry about it, I need to practice anyways.” You bend down to untie your sneakers before moving to the center of the room, Hyunjin following in quick succession, “So you obviously know the proper foot technique, pointed toes only and all of that. And the retire position is just your foot in the notch above your knee.” You demonstrate it in the mirror, and even though he’s far from being a ballerina he’s done enough classes to know that you want him to copy it, “Yea, good. It looks good.”

“Where are my shoulders supposed to be?” He asks shyly, not used to questioning such simple things.

“Back, always back. Now check that your hips aren’t tilted, I-I’ve always been told to imagine that they’re a fruit bowl.” You steal a quick glance at the boy while he’s adjusting, heart fluttering the same way that it did so many years ago, “Okay, now um... Now put your feet into fourth position, just like that yea, then bend your knees and push off from your back leg.” You do the turn, a motion so natural that it might as well be brushing your teeth, “Like that, easy peasy!” The boy scoffs while bringing up his arms the same way that you had yours just seconds ago.

“Yea, easy peasy for you!”  A soft giggle falls from your lips, bouncing off the walls of the empty studio (as well as Hyunjins ears.)

“C’mon!” You tease while moving around to face him, a soft smile playing at your lips, “You see me mess up in class all of the time, just go for it. The worst that could happen is being wrong.” He nods, then exhales shakily. When he does the turn it’s a bit wobbly, but definitely not anything worse than what you’ve seen before.

“Oh my god, (Y/n) that was terrible like genuinely awful-” The words feel harsh, but he’s wearing a bright smile and laughing like there’s not a care in the world. You can’t help but laugh too.

“No, no! It was fine!” You assure through a laugh as he gets back into position. From the corner of your eye you see him mouth ‘liar,’ which earns him a harsh flick between the eyes, “Just bring your hips a little more forward like...” It’s instinctual for your hand to fall onto his hipbone, something you’ve done to Felix hundreds of times. The main difference is that when you adjust Felix he usually tells you to fuck off, then softly knees your stomach. When you do it to Hyunjin he audibly chokes and you feel fire ignite beneath your fingertips, “Like this. Now go into fourth and try again, but keep your hips aligned!” The boy nods before sinking into position and pushing up into a flawless turn.

“I did it!” He exclaims, hands flying up like he’s about to hug you, “You were right, you were right I did it!” Something about his wide, excited eyes makes every wall built around your heart crumble into dust. So you accept the hug, once again allowing yourself to fall victim to the sweetness that is Hwang Hyunjin.

“I was what, I was... Did you say right?!” He rolls his eyes at your teasing, trying desperately to pretend like he didn’t miss it. It’s useless, because the way that Hyunjin’s holding you let’s you know that he’s missed you just as much as you have him, “Alright big guy, let me go. I’ve got studying to do and shoes to break in.” He whines lowly, arms trying to grab you as you snake away. 

“Can we get dinner together or something?” He begs, hand briefly tangling itself in yours. You fight down the blush rising to your cheeks while pulling your hand away and stuffing it into your pocket.

“Not tonight, you have to keep practicing those pirouettes! But don’t worry, you’ll be seeing more of me... Partner.” Hyunjin smiles widely at your words, realization settling in as quickly as they leave your mouth.

“Do you mean...?”

“Yes,” You exhale, mentally preparing for another bone crushing hug, “I’ll be your partner for class.” 

Hyunjins hug is almost nice enough that you forget about how annoying Jisung’s going to be when you tell him.

*

It turns out that the friends Hyunjin made are almost as amazing as the ones that you did. Everyone was a little awkward when the two groups first merged, specifically Jisung who was still butt hurt about you switching partners. But then Felix got to talking with Chan (the person who’s been mothering your friend ever since he started at the contemporary institute. From the way they talk, Hyunjin would’ve both starved and failed if it weren’t for the older boy,) and suddenly everyone was meeting in your room on Fridays for a weekly game of uno. 

“Absolutely not, you’re fucking cheating!” Minho (the other new face from your stage chemistry class,) shouts while pointing a finger across the card pile and into Jisungs face. The boy moves to jokingly bite at it, causing Chan’s eyes to go as wide as the moon.

“No, no, no! No murder, and no biting what the hell!” You snort at your new friends bewildered expression while passing a canned sparkling water to Hyunjin. He accepts with a smile before mouthing ‘they’re insane!’ Felix sees and proceeds to nail him in the face with your favorite throw pillow.

“Says the guy who sleeps in socks-” Hyunjin throws the pillow back harshly, causing Chan to damn near pass out. It’s all that you can do to not roll over with laughter.

“My feet get cold.” He grumbles with a pout that makes both you and Minho coo from your spots beside the boy.

“Okay, okay, Minho just pick up the cards and let’s keep going? I’m about to finish!” The boy grumbles angrily, all ‘stupid card game’ and ‘I don’t wanna pick up twenty cards!’ You lock eyes with Chan from across the card pile, taking brief solace in the presence of someone else with a functioning brain.

“So we all know that (Y/n’)s about to win, and that she’s my best friend and favorite duet partner,” Everyone answers him with an immediate ‘rude,’ which makes a girlish giggle bubble up in your throat, “which is why it makes me so terribly sad to do this.” You watch closely as he dramatically pulls a card from his hand then places it on top of the deck, a fat draw four staring you straight in the eyes. Everyone goes silent while watching your face fall drastically.

“Hwang Hyunjin, I am going to-” The room bursts into chaos before you even finish the sentence. In the end there are about twelve fresh bruises, six entirely hoarse sets of vocal chords, and one demolished dorm room. Just a normal Friday night.

Except for the way that your heart stutters when Hyunjin mouths a simple ‘love you’ over the bustling group. That’s not normal, but you think that you like it.

*

“Hyunjin, if you keep your hands there I’m going to fall.” You say to your duet partner, whose hands are wandering aimlessly up your torso. They’re supposed to be on your hips, serving as an anchor for your body while it dips towards the ground. 

“Sorry, sorry.” The boy mumbles, not entirely meaning it. It’s impossible to be sorry when he can physically feel your heart speed up beneath his hands.

“Try to sound just a little bit less convincing next time, okay?” You shimmy slightly in a futile attempt to move his hands, which only makes him laugh brightly. If it weren’t for your less than ideal position (halfway bent into a split with every ounce of your weight balanced on the tips of your toes,) you would hit him.

“Do you want me to drop you, because I can drop you if it’s what you want-” The teacher snaps her fingers, pulling everyone’s attention out of the various warm up routines and to the front of the room. Hyunjins hands pull away from your torso so quickly that it burns.

“No dropping dance partners on purpose, that’s the first rule of building stage chemistry.” She chastises, eyes brushing briefly over your friend which causes him to turn thirty shades of pink. You giggle quietly to yourself before sticking your tongue out at him, “But of course, you can’t truly start to build a connection until there’s material. So that’s what we’re doing today, I’ve assigned each group with a pas de deux, or ‘dance for two’. Whoever I think shows the most promise within the next week will be given the opportunity to enter in the regional competition.” She says opportunity, but the stern tone of her voice means that whoever she picks will definitely have to do the competition.

Everyone floods to the front of the class before she even finishes, Hyunjin moving to do so as well before you quickly grip his wrist.

“She didn’t say to go yet, and if we want to qualify for that competition we’re going to have to start kissing up now.” You keep your face forward, chin up and shoulders back, but even then you can feel Hyunjins smile, “What?!”

“You want to do the competition?” He sounds hopeful, nearly childlike.

“Of course! That’s like half the reason I go to school here, the competitive atmosphere.” People are starting to settle back into place, your teacher wearing a look of utter annoyance. Hyunjin doesn’t seem to notice, seeing as his mouth keeps moving.

“I’ve only known how to do a pirouette for a month, and I still can’t really get my double. You’d have a better chance with Han, or-” As soon as the teachers back is turned you whip around to your babbling partner, hands planted firmly on his broad shoulders. It takes a second for his eyes to meet yours, but when they do he nearly melts.

“I don’t want to do it with anyone else, I want to do it with you. And just because your double isn’t perfect doesn’t mean that it’s not good so stop stressing.” He looks down for a second, cheeks growing as pink as your shoes. By force of habit you hook a hand beneath the boys chin and force him to look at you, “I mean it.” He swallows harshly, then nods. With a sigh you let go of the boy and return to your previous (assigned) position. Just in time too, seeing as the teacher turns around right as you settle next to the boy.

“You may check your assignments at the end of class, if you haven’t done so already.” You flash a knowing glance to Hyunjin, almost as if to say ‘I told you so.’ He knows better than to argue.

At the end of class you go up to look with Jisung while Hyunjin gathers your things for you, the short brunette babbling excitedly about the previously mentioned regional’s. 

“I thought that you don’t do partner work?” You tease lightly while ducking down to look at the list.

“I don’t, but neither does my partner! So we’ll just be okay at...” He bends next to, head full of brown hair hitting you straight in the eyes, “Romeo and Juliet?” You bite down a laugh while pushing the boy away.

“Don’t try to fight it, you’re such a Romeo. Just like I am such a... Lise!” The boys face contorts with jealousy as he ducks back down, once again knocking your heads together.

“You guys got La Fille mal gardee? And the ribbon dance?!” You giggle back a small yes while pinching the boys frowning cheeks, “No fair! Absolutely no fair, I have to do stupid Romeo and Juliet and you got my favorite ballet, no fair!”

“It’s my favorite too!” You defend, which ends up being pointless because both Hyunjin and Jisung chorus back with ‘not true!’ 

“Your favorite is swan lake.” Hyunjin states while sliding your dance bag onto your shoulder. Maybe it’s the fondness in his action, or the way that he named off your favorite ballet as though it was a fact ingrained into his brain, but your heart swells so large that you swear it could pop like a balloon. 

“Okay,” you exhale, hand moving to the spot where his fingers were ghosting just seconds ago, “one of my favorites.”

*

At your first rehearsal for regionals you and Hyunjin are given the ribbon to use, seeing as it’s literally the ribbon dance. Practicing without it was honestly getting awkward, which is unfortunate seeing as the boy nearly got it taken away within minutes. 

“Look (Y/n,) I’m a present!” He had exclaimed, causing you to whip around to the sight of your partner with a pink silk bow tied around his chin.

“Oh no, Hyunjin!” You whispered through a quiet laugh, moving towards him to untie it, “You are so ridiculous!”

“What? Am I not a gift?” He pouted while trying to pull your hands away, which earned him nothing but a harsh smack on the wrist. You slipped it off his face and behind your back just as the teacher walked in the door to give the ‘your ribbon is not a toy,’ talk.

At the second you describe the plot of La Fille mal Gardee, which proves to be slightly (read: very confusing.)

“Wait wait wait, she doesn’t even like the other guy?!” He asks while shaking his head cutely, black hair bouncing along with the motion. If it gets any longer he’s going to have to start putting it up.

“Nope, not one bit.” His eyebrows furrow as he starts to grumble ‘this is kind of stupid,’ earning a giggle and a push to the shoulder, “No it isn’t! It’s funny, and sweet! I really relate to Lise and her... Character arch I guess.”

“Isn’t she the girl who needed guarding or something like that?” His tilts to the side, teeth catching ever so slightly on his puffy pink lips.

“Yea,” You exhale with a quickening heart rate, “something like that.” There’s silence for a minute, nothing but Hyunjin shaking his head and sighing softly.

“That’s not you. No one needs to guard you.” For some reason your brain flashes back to the third summer alone (that awkward stage where you were too old to make new friends and too young to go see Jisung,) when you spent everyday walking through the woods alone. Sometimes you would just walk until the sun went down and your only company was the stars, but most days you would find a new place to sit down and hum out the motifs of your favorite ballets, “No one.”

For a moment you think that he’s right.

The fourth rehearsal (exactly one week after the first) is when you get to a stage kiss in the choreography, your teacher describing the motions along with a recording that’s projecting on the back wall. It starts with the boy pulling in the girl by the ribbon, then swooping down to meet her lips with a smile. Then she twirls away, leaving your skin hot and crawling. 

“We’re um... A-are we gonna do that?” Hyunjin asks through a whisper, leaning close enough that you can feel his breath. It’s warm and smells like spearmint.

“We’ll know when we get there I guess, now pay attention!” You push his face away from yours and back to the projection, watching as the couple wraps each other up in the silky ribbon.

When you do finally get there an hour later he looks so nervous that he could puke. Your teacher shouts out the next move, ‘kiss and then twirl away,’ which only adds to the painful drumming of your heart.

“It’s okay, (Y/n,) you don’t have to.” His voice is low, hushed. Almost like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear.

“No, no! It’s okay, I’ll just...” You lean forward as much as you can with the ribbon hugging your waist and press a feather light kiss onto the tip of his nose. The teacher coos, maybe even praises the two of you on the developing stage chemistry. You don’t hear it. You don’t hear anything over the erratic beating of your heart, “I’ll just do that, okay?” He swallows dryly, eyes flashing quickly down to your lips then back up to your sweet gaze.

“Y-yea, perfect.” There’s something building up in the space between your bodies, so thick that you could spread it over toast, “You should twirl away, right?” You nod, wanting desperately to stay. To kiss him in an earth shattering way.

A part of you thinks that you shouldn’t. That Hyunjin has the power to ruin every part of you, and that wanting to give that to him after your hearts already been broken is foolish. But you do, you want to. Because loving Hyunjin feels good enough that the pain doesn’t matter.

After the fifth rehearsal the two of you feel as though you’ve torn every muscle in your body. Your teacher decided within the first twelve minutes that the two of you would benefit from some conditioning, which resulted in you and Hyunjin holding side by side planks (as well as other terrible positions) and muttering curses for a solid hour.

“I’m gonna collapse.” Hyunjin whines, plopping down onto the hardwood floor beside his dance bag. Something that’s probably supposed to be a laugh falls out of your mouth before you pull the water bottle from your bag.

“At least you haven’t been wearing pointe shoes all day.” You groan while moving the bottle to your mouth. A mouthful of water slides down your throat right as the boys face twists into one of horror.

“Oh gosh, oh no I’m so sorry!” You try to wave the black haired boy away, which only makes him feel worse, “No, no! I wanna help let me umm... Come back to my room? I can set up a foot bath with...”

“Epsom salts.” You answer after swallowing another swig of water, “But I have all of the stuff in my room, I can take care of it.” Hyunjin whines again while rolling over onto his stomach and pushing himself into a sitting position. There’s a bead of sweat dripping down the bridge of his nose, something that you shouldn’t focus on. It catches on the tip before falling delicately onto his collar bone.

“I wanna take care of it,” It feels like all of the air has been sucked out of the room, “just... Here, wear my jacket into the building so no one can see that you’re uh... A girl.” You try to argue again, but then your cheeks are squished in between his hand and his eyebrows are furrowed just enough for it to be cute, “Let me take care of you.”

And really, how could you say no to that?

*

“Hwang Hyunjin, you are my favorite person in the world.” You sigh, feet dipping into the warm cloudy water. He plops down next to you with a laugh and arms full of snacks.

“Can I get that in writing? You know, just to prove it to Jisung.” Laughter bounces off of his dorm walls, filling the boys brain with childhood memories. Like the time that you two were riding scooters in your driveway and just as the sun started to set you skinned your knee. Hyunjin had thought for a minute that the shaking of your shoulders was sobbing, but quickly discovered by a tilt of your chin and hands wrapped around your sides that you were indeed laughing. Beautiful, clear laughter complete with sunshine dripping from your skin. It was the first time he can remember thinking that someone was beautiful.

“Yes!” You exclaim, effectively pulling the boy from his memory, “But only if you give me food.” He giggles tiredly, a sound so sweet that it might as well be honey, and tosses a bag of pita chips your way.

“You don’t even have to ask.” 

You’re supposed to go back to your dorm at eleven, thirty minutes after arrival. But then Hyunjin starts talking about anything and everything, ranging from how he met Minho to the old building of his school. The way he chuckles sleepily while reminiscing on water logged ceilings is enough to make you melt.  

Somehow your head ends up pulled against his chest, rising and falling with his breaths. There’s an arm tied around your waist like ribbon, lips softly brushing your hairline as he mumbles endlessly about everything, your leg across his lap as though they’re supposed to be. 

“What time’s it?” You slur, clenching onto the fabric of his shirt. It smells like spice and fresh pine and Hyunjin. So much like Hyunjin.

“Midnight.” You think to yourself that it’s time to leave, that if any of the staff found out about this you’d be dead. You also think that Hyunjin smells like fresh pine and that he’s holding you in a way that you’ve never been held.

The sound of his even breathing and the weight of his arms on you lulls you to sleep in a matter of minutes.

*

When you wake up it’s to the obnoxious blaring of Hyunjins alarm. The boy whines lowly before punching it into snooze. It’s enough to make you laugh, then pull your head away from the cradle of his chin.

“C’mon sleepy, it’s time to get up. What do you have for breakfast?” If it weren’t for your hair tickling his cheek or the way your torso writhes beneath his arm he would be annoyed by your chirping voice. After the hundreds of early mornings school has thrown your way you can’t really help but be a morning person. 

“More sleep, that’s what I have.” He grumbles as you crack the curtains open, trying desperately to pull the comforter over his eyes.

“You need food to fuel your body Hyunjin-” Before you can finish lecturing him an arm shoots up from beneath the gray blanket, crashing your body onto his with a sleepy groan.

“M’ just kidding.” He pulls you under the blanket with him, mimicking the first time he spent the night at your house. You two stayed up until the sun was rising, hidden away from the world by the fluffy pink comforter of your childhood bedroom, “Protein bars are in the closet and apples’r on top of the mini fridge.

It’d be so easy to skip classes and stay here all day, not a care in the world besides the sweet boy that you’re currently tangled in. A part of you wants to melt away and give in, but a bigger part knows that doing that is a commitment. Like saying that you’re his to hold and break however he pleases. It’s the scariest thought that you’ve had in months.

“W-we should get going. Yea?” The words sound like you’ve been choking on them. A fact that Hyunjin takes notice of, eyes growing sad and attentive as his arms wiggle away from your waist.

“Yea, yea. Minho will be here in ten minutes, we walk to pas de deux together.” Before you can help it your expression turns panicked, eyebrows shooting up as your jaw drops open, “Sorry! He’s not gonna tell anyone or anything I promise!” Something clenches in your chest at the sight of him sitting up in bed, black hair sticking up every way that it can.

“I know he won’t, it’s just...” You look down at your body, clothed with Hyunjins sweatshirt and a pair of his long socks (turns out that he was onto something with the whole ‘sleeping in socks’ thing,) “I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.” His gaze shoots up to meet yours, so soft and relaxed that you could cry.

“Which would be?” There’s a pounding in your ears that’s quickly recognizable as a heartbeat. 

“That we’re together.” It’s barely above a whisper, but Hyunjin hears you loud and clear. From the light tremble to the breathy finish, he hears you.

“We could be, if that’s what you want.” He puts a hand on your shoulder, an action familiar enough that it’s normal yet tender enough that your cheeks are flushing pink, “Is that what you want?” 

“I-I, um...” Your heart is screaming yes, that you want to be his and only his. That while you aren’t a girl who needs to be guarded, you are a girl who wants to be guarded. Guarded from everything by Hyunjins thin comforter and strong arms.

But then you think about the promise that Hyunjin broke. The promise that he wouldn’t forget you, and then broke less than twenty-four hours later. You think about how badly you’ve wanted to spend the last day of summer with him every year since. Your mouth opens right as a knock sounds against his door, “Can we talk about this later?” Hyunjin nods lightly while getting up to grab two apples off of the top of the mini fridge. 

“I’m so sorry for however he reacts.” The boy groans under his breath, offering you a light green apple along with an apologetic smile. You accept, smiling back before popping out of bed to pull your dance bag over your shoulder.

“It can’t be that bad, Minho’s level headed.” If it weren’t for the fact that Hyunjin still has a question lodged in his throat he would’ve laughed.

You’re the one who finally opens the door, interrupting Minho mid-knock. At first he looks aggravated, ready to launch into a long speech about how ‘timeliness is important’ and ‘you always fucking make us late’ but when his eyes meet you his jaw goes slack. 

“What the f-”

If the sound of Minho screeching wasn’t telling enough, you were very very wrong.

*

The next four days are spent dancing around Hyunjins burning question, constantly talking about anything else or switching the topic when it seems like he might bring it up. At first he barely notices, simply assuming that you need time to mull it over, but then Jisung and Chan sit in on a lunchtime rehearsal.

The dance is coming along perfectly, so much so that the boys don’t even notice your hesitations. Hyunjin sees it though. Sees the way that your hands tremble before planting on his shoulders, the way that your face looks sad after pressing the soft kiss onto his nose. While he hasn’t seen you dance as much as Jisung or Felix probably have, he’s still seen enough to know that you’re never like this. Never uncertain.

“What was that about?” The boy asks after the rehearsal, hands crossed against his chest. You’re going to ignore him, focus on nothing other than getting out of your pointe shoes and off to your next class, but then his dark brown eyes catch on yours, “Seriously!”

“What are you talking about?” You respond, fingers working quickly to undo the ribbons around your ankles. A sigh leaves your mouth as one shoe slips off and into your bag, quickly moving to the other one before Hyunjin can continue the questioning.

Turns out that your friend is terrible at picking up on social cues.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” Your head is briefly pulled up from the floor as his voice grows impossibly soft, your heartbeat faltering ever so slightly. There’s a quiet goodbye as Jisung and Chan leave the studio, “Y-you scared me.”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, throwing the second shoe into your bag while a lump takes form in your throat. If he wasn’t your best friend then he would think that you’re just tired, or hungry, or anything other than deflecting. But he is your best friend, who knows that being tired or hungry only makes you sad. Your best friend who knows that you’re deflecting harder than you ever have before.

“It’s okay, just tell me. Please.” His last word is so hushed that you can barely hear it, but it’s there. Light, and airy, and perfectly there, “Is this about what I asked?” Before you can help you’re nodding, once again giving this boy every part of you that can break.

“Yea, kind of.” It feels like your mouth is full of cotton, leaving you uncomfortably hot along with speechless. A loud sigh rings through the studio as Hyunjin slides down to meet your height, hands burying into his raven black hair. The sight takes you back to the last day of fifth grade; you and him holding each other on your front porch as if the world was ending, your hands tangled into his hair.

“Is it because you don’t want to?” There’s his eyes on yours, your chest heaving, and nothing else in the entire universe. Just (Y/n,) the girl who wants to be guarded, and Hyunjin, (Y/n’)s beloved.

“No.” 

“Then why didn’t you say yes?” Right now feels like when you’re at a competition, in the middle of a variation that’s been giving you hell since you started working on it. It’s seconds before the hardest part, the one that you’re still not sure of. It’s the adrenaline rushing through your veins and the words ‘now or never’ echoing with each timed exhale.

“Because. How do I know that you won’t forget about me when summer comes?” Your words hit him like a punch to the gut, causing his lips to part and then heave for air. 

“I-I never forgot about you.”

“Yes you did!” There are tears prickling the back of your eyelids, which you quickly blink away before continuing, “I waited for you outside your house every day! And then, when you wouldn’t show up, I-I’d spend every day alone. Doing what we used to do together, but by myself! I was all by myself and I missed you so much, Jinnie. So, so much.” He’s going to tell you that you’re wrong. That while all of those things happened, he never ever forgot about you.

But then there’s that old nickname, the one reserved specifically for family and you. He hasn’t heard it in months, and when he finally does it’s rolling out of your mouth like a plea soaked in honey. Something that’s going to stick with him for forever.

“(Y/n,) please-” You’re up and out of the door before he can even finish.

*

It’s a dreary Friday morning, rain trickling down your window and painting your room a gray shade of blue. With a deep inhale you realize that everything is finally smelling like fall, which only solidifies the fact that you never want to get out of bed. Unfortunately you have a class in half an hour that you do kind of need to go to. 

But it’s not too terrible. Maybe if you were getting up to go take a math class, or run a marathon, but you aren’t. You’re getting up to go to ballet class, and you can wear your favorite leotard again (the light blue one, with pearls sewn around the collar,) and the rain outside is heavy enough to be calming but light enough that you can fend it off with an umbrella. The only thing that could make this morning any better is your favorite childhood breakfast, honey nut cheerios with strawberry milk.

Which is, oddly enough, sitting outside of your door when you open it to head off to the dining hall. A gallon sized jug of bright pink milk next to a family size box of your favorite cereal, just sitting in the middle of the hallway with a folded piece of paper resting precariously on top. Something about this has Hyunjin written all over it. You lean down to pick up the note, reading it about a thousand times over before rushing back into your room to wolf down the breakfast that you haven’t had in months.

‘(Y/n,)

I never forgot you.

Come to my room tonight after rehearsal. Please.

Sincerely, Hyunjin.’ 

When you two do the first full run through of the pas de deux that night he holds you extra tight. Maybe because he misses you. Maybe because he thinks that after tonight he’ll never have the chance to do so again.

But when he opens the door to his dorm room you see pink fluffy blankets folded on his bed. On top of them is a basket, filled to the brim with every last one of your favorite things. Strawberries dipped in chocolate like the ones your mother would make on hot summer nights, snickers bars like the ones that you two would share after days spent in your driveway, glass bottled lemonade like you would buy from the stand up the street.

“I may or may not have also bought your favorite movie. Well, if it’s still Barbie And the Twelve Dancing Princesses.” A giggle sounds through the room, bouncing around the walls and then back onto Hyunjins burning cheeks.

“It is, but don’t tell Jisung!” Rain starts to fall again, the soft pitter patter mixing perfectly with the boys soft laugh. His hand grazes briefly against the small of your back as he starts to guide you into the tight room, “I’m serious! Him and Lix will make fun of me!” The pout on your face is enough to melt anyone’s heart, which is why Hyunjin doesn’t even think twice when his knees go weak as jelly.

“My lips are sealed.” He says, walking over the boxy tv (that certainly wasn’t there last week) on his desk and inserting the disc, “Now sit back and enjoy.”

It’s not a hard request to fill, your tired body sinking immediately into the fluffy blankets and mouth watering each time you bite down on a strawberry. Rain continues to patter softly against the window, the sound occasionally being replaced by a loud roll of thunder which makes the boy next to you jump. You had laughed at the action, asking softly if he was scared. It was a rhetorical question, you know fully well that he’s always been scared of thunder.

“No! Yes, shut up.” And if you mind that the boy cuddles softly into your side, one arm wrapped around the curve of your waist while the other holds a chocolate strawberry, you don’t say so. 

The two of you stay tangled up in each other like that until the credits roll, Hyunjins breathy sigh hitting your cheek as he shifts to get up. You watch with heartfelt eyes as he crosses the dimly lit room, his black hair briefly sweeping across his eyes. You want to reach up and push it away, but right as you manage to sit up straight he’s done with it and headed back to the bed. With a short laugh you realize that your noses are touching.

“Hi.” The word comes at as a short exhale, leaving a taste on your tongue that’s sweeter than chocolate strawberries.

“Hey.” Your heart flutters at the sound, an exhale laced together with a smile, as his arms return to their previous spot around your waist. There’s probably nothing in the world brighter than the smile he wears for you. Stage lights, the sun, every last star in the sky rolled into one. None of it even comes close to the way that his pink lips stretch perfectly from cheek to cheek, “Do you finally believe me?” He brings up a hand to caress your cheek gently, as though to rub away tears that haven’t fallen.

“Believe wh-”

“Do you believe that I never forgot you? That I never forgot any of you, not even the little things like your favorite color or what you liked to eat for dinner. Maybe I pulled away, but I think it’s because even then I knew how badly losing you would hurt. I-I knew that I never wanted to lose you, which is just what I did...” He swallows harshly, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, “But I’ll never do it again. I’ll never lose you, and I’ll never forget you a-and... And I don’t want to remember you anymore, (Y/n.) I’m so done with remembering, let’s just be.” There’s something stuck in your throat, but it doesn’t hurt the way that tears do. No, this is a release gathering inside of you. One that’s waiting for you to finally give in.

“Hyunjin,” His fingers cradle the curve of your jaw, sending goosebumps down every inch of your body, “kiss me.” And that’s all the confirmation he needs to brush his lips over yours.

At first it’s gentle, almost questioning. Like he’s asking one last time ‘Is this okay?’ But then your hands tangle in his black hair, the way that they’ve been aching to since you first saw him, and he knows that you’re okay. More than okay, you’re in love. With every muscle in your body, you’re in love.

Hyunjin’s hand that was previously holding your face drops back down to your waist and pulls you in softly. They then travel down to your thighs, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips before he picks you up and guides you onto the bed. Every movement is so perfect yet raw, feeling like the stuff of ballets. Until your back hits an unopened glass bottle of lemonade, that is. The sudden cold is enough to make you jump.

“What?!” Hyunjin questions, eyes shooting as wide as saucers, “Did I hurt you?!” A laugh sounds through the room while your hand detaches from his hair, opting instead to reach around your body and remove the glass bottle that’s poking you in the least conventional way possible.

“No.” You answer through soft giggles, bringing up the bottle to lightly tap his forehead, “There’s just a lemonade poking me in the ass.”

He flushes bright pink before answering with a tiny ‘oh’ and burying his face into the crook of your neck. If you were less malleable you would’ve teased him even more, but then there are warm kisses on your skin and nothing in your head.

“I love you.” He whispers, head slowly moving until his lips are against your jaw. You’re going to answer, really, but then there are soft lips on your chin and a smile ripping through your body, “I love you.” 

“M-me too.” You stammer dumbly, body going entirely limp as he (finally) presses another kiss onto your lips. The boy pulls away entirely too soon, but it’s okay. There’s something that you need to finish saying, anyways, “I love you too, Jinnie.”

When you fall asleep that night it’s to the sound of pattering rain, with Hyunjins arms guarding you from the world. 

*

The bus back from regionals is quiet, the few sounds that do come about being Chan and Felix whispering softly or Minho giggling at Jisung snoring. You’re about there too, but who can blame you when Hyunjins hands are buried in your hair (which is both stiff and wavy from a combination of hairspray and braided buns.) If you close your eyes and focus really hard you can even feel the rise and fall of his chest where it’s connected with your back. 

“Who’s gonna keep our trophy?” The boy questions, lips moving softly against the shell of your ear. It generates a warm feeling in your gut, one that spreads quickly to your cheeks and ears.

“We’ll trade it off on the weekends. Like divorced soccer parents.” He giggles softly, moving forward to kiss your temple.

“Are you trying to tell me something?” If you were a little bit less tired, or a little bit less in love, then maybe you’d joke back. But you’re wrapped up in him like a ribbon on your waist, foot nudging against a plastic first place trophy while his lips move against you in a way that you could get drunk off of.

“Never.” You answer, hand coming up to wrap around his as if it were a vow, “Never.”