#Quote from the body crafting room in the House

[naswoop]

How iconic of him

[pleasoflove]

love grows best in little houses — lee jeno

roommate jeno x f reader

fluff, friends to lovers, pining, close proximity … >:)

7k words

summary: love grows best in little houses with fewer walls to separate, where you eat and sleep so close together you can't help but communicate. if we had more room between us, think of all we'd miss... love grows best in houses just like this.

authors note: this silly modern all white farmhouse quote had me thinking!!!

“I’m home,” You announce quite obnoxiously, jingling your keys and shopping bags. You made sure to shake the doorknob a little before stepping in as well, doing the courtesy of warning your roommate in case he had company over. 

Instead, you find him relaxed on the couch, a knowing smile resting on his face. He gets up to help you with the grocery bags, “I could tell.” 

You give Jeno an eyeroll, hanging your keys on the little rack by the door. “I’m doing you a favor, okay? Last thing I need is to walk in on you going at it with some chick from your lab class.” 

He laughs a quick laugh, and you get lucky enough to see his eyes form into crescents before his features relax. “Don’t worry. I think I’d warn you before starting something in here.” 

“Better safe than sorry.” 

Sometimes you find yourself squinting and having quick, fleeting thoughts like maybe I should get my eyes checked, but you’re not oblivious to Lee Jeno’s looks, whose entire being seems to have been crafted by all the angels residing in the heavens themselves. All five feet and ten inches of his existence, from the little stray hair that sticks up from the rest to the bottoms of his feet; Jeno is a sight for sore eyes. 

He’s inescapable, too. Quite literally, since you live with him in something that would be flattered to be even called a shoebox of a home. 

The front door is simply the entrance to the kitchen— there is no dining room. The wall to your left side when you walk in is essentially the side of the staircase to your little loft, where your measly mattress sits on the floor. 

Beneath your loft is Jeno’s “bedroom”, where his mattress is placed directly on the floor as well. He’s got a curtain hung up to separate the joke of his room from the living room, which barely fits the couch that the two of you snagged off someone from Facebook Marketplace. 

So, yeah, your living situation is tough, except it only gets harder when the two of you share the most crucial and, possibly, most private space that anyone could ever have. 

The bathroom. 

Oh, it was tough on your heart. It still is, sometimes, though you’ve gotten better at pretending that you can’t see Jeno’s entire naked upper body when he steps out of the shower and you dash inside to finally relieve your bladder. 

It’s not ideal, you know, but it’s the best that your money (combined) can get. Before the start of your junior year, you had been in such a slump over a breakup with your ex that you slacked off hard when it came to apartment hunting. Prices had gone up tenfold by the time you started searching, and with every single day that passed, they only rose and rose, practically laughing in your face for your earlier incompetence. 

It wasn’t until you mentioned to your friend (coworker), Mark, that it had been absolute hell trying to find a place to stay. And bless his heart, that precious boy Mark Lee, as he lifted his hand to run it through his hair, only to accidentally knock off his uniform hat off his head as he exclaimed, I got you! 

That’s how you met Jeno. A friend of a coworker-turned-friend who had been sheepishly looking for a roomie to occupy that devilishly tiny space because even though it was smaller than a suburban backyard, the rent was still so high. 

Before you moved in, your automatic gameplan with any roommate was to interact as little as possible. Stay out of the kitchen if they’re in it. Watch movies in your room if the living room is occupied. Avoid being in the same space at all. Less contact with someone you barely knew meant less conflict, less tension, less worry. You just come in and out, talk about whose turn it is to buy the paper towels and stack the dishes, then move on with your life. 

Absolutely impossible with Jeno. Firstly, he’s a kind-hearted boy. Well, not a boy— he is a man. A boy-ish one with that smile he’s got, and the tenderness behind his words yet the playful venom he spits at you whenever he gets the chance. It’s hard to stay away when his personality is so well-balanced and welcoming that you can’t help but to interact. 

That, and it’s hard to avoid someone when you’re in the kitchen cleaning up and they have to walk right past you in order to leave. The first few weeks were awfully awkward; a constant cycle of oh, sorry, as the two of you tried to get past each other but couldn’t because of how close everything was together. Jeno gave up the act quickly and began to laugh softly at these little conflicts. It made you feel better, made you feel like you too could laugh at the silly reality of your situation. The apartment felt warmer. You’re unsure if it’s because it was tiny, and the heat was trapped, or because getting comfortable felt nice and it slowly transformed your place into your home. 

“Ah. Fruity Pebbles? Someone’s tending to their inner child.”

You huff, your back pressing against his as the two of you sort the new groceries into the little storage space that you have. “They were on sale. And what about it? I’m sure baby Lee enjoyed a bowl or two. Don’t mask your inner child’s excitement with learned patronization.” 

“Someone’s been reading lately,” He shoots back, and you can hear his stupid smile through his voice. “Big words for someone like you.” 

“You know what? You can forget about the pebbles. Get your own cardboard cereal.” 

“I don’t think it’ll fit in the pantry.” 

“Laundry day?”

Yes, laundry day. The most taxing and annoying chore of all. Laundry day, where you have to haul your drawstring bag of clothes down the stairs, out of the apartment and into the hallway, all the way down to the elevator. It’s a mission, it’s quite serious. 

Jeno stares up at you from the foot of the stairs, eyeing you with humor as he sees you lug around that giant sack of clothing. Oh, how helpful he is, only making you more self-aware as he stands with his fitted undershirt and notorious gray sweats. How lovely of him. 

You try coping with the close proximity by turning your attraction to him into annoyance, only your brain does this wicked thing where it gets so annoyed you cannot help but notice all the other handsome, kind, inviting things about him to get annoyed about.

You do not, by any means, have feelings for Jeno. He’s more like that hot friend that you are so sure is out of your league that you simply give up. Yes, he’s hot. Yes, you know nothing will come out of it. Yes, you are one hundred percent okay with that. It’s just difficult when he’s got a pair of eyes and you aren’t looking your best. Human nature to feel a little self conscious, you guess. 

“Let me come with,” He offers as you finally reach the bottom of the steps, mindlessly taking the lump of clothes and bringing it into his arms like it were the weight of a newborn baby. 

“Eh?”

“I will help you,” He starts again, this time speaking slowly to mock you. He’s trying to stifle a shit-eating grin from coming up on his face. He’s so unbearable that you lightly smack at his arm. 

You don’t understand why he would offer to tag along; the laundromat is one of the worst places to spend your free time at. The one you go to has a corner store right next to it, which is nice, but it feels boring again after you collect your snacks and choose a chair to sit in while you watch your clothes spin around and around. It’s even worse when the wall-mounted TVs play nothing but a loop of all the songs that reached top 10 on Billboard in 2013. 

But Jeno doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind a lot of things, you think, as you reach the building and hop out of his car. He’s got so much patience in his heart that you’re not sure what could ever bore him to death. 

The two of you pick your washers and start dumping your clothes in. It’s pretty quiet, save for the low rumbling of the other machines and Katy Perry’s Roar playing softly from the TVs. The bell on the entrance door jingles as an older lady walks in with a little boy who's got a candy bar in hand. 

When you finish loading the washer, you turn to Jeno swiftly. “Want anything from next door?”

He tilts his head, thinking. “Any sour candy.” 

While you head out on your mission to bag the snacks, Jeno picks a table by the window to sit at. He zones out, mindlessly watching the music video play out on the tv, but the sound is muffled in his ears. He's not sure if it's from his lack of focus or the overpowering sound of the machines running. 

He’s pulled out of it when the little boy speeds by. With the whole laundromat to himself, he weaves in and out of the rows like it's a maze, yet dutifully obeys his grandmother’s commands to pass him the little detergent tablets on the drying table. After he passes them to her, he starts running again. 

He’s about to pass Jeno again before he trips over his own shoelaces and tumbles down to the floor. Jeno automatically perks up, worry flashing in his eyes as he looks at the boy and then to his grandmother. Her eyes are busy on the laundry, sorting out the colors and the whites, and while Jeno is internally panicking about the wellbeing of the child, the little boy simply laughs it off and gets back up on his feet. He’s a little bashful due to having an audience, but after Jeno wordlessly sees that he’s okay, they both relax. 

The candy that he was holding had slid across the floor, so Jeno takes it upon himself to pick it up and give it back. He silently inspects it of any damage, earning a laugh from the little one as he hands it to him. 

The boy carefully unwraps it then breaks off a piece to give to Jeno. 

“Oh,” He starts immediately, taken aback. “No no, you have it.” 

The boy hums a short mm-mm while shaking his head, insisting that Jeno take it. 

With a weary smile, his big hand meets the small one in front of him and he gently takes the piece of chocolate, slow and careful in case the little boy has any doubts. 

As you’re walking back to the laundromat, you can see the entire interaction through the huge windows in the front. The look that’s on Jeno’s face as he interacts with the boy is enough to make your knees weak. It’s so soft, almost loving. 

When you step back inside, you try to be as discreet as possible, but the bell on the door alerts everyone that you’re there. The two boys look at you curiously before recognition crosses Jeno’s eyes. 

You slide him his bag of sour gummy worms, and without any hesitation, he tears the corner open and spills a few into his hand. He offers his open palm to the boy, who at this point, is giddy and glowing with this new established friendship. He happily takes the worms and nods his head very firmly, “Thank you!” 

The boy isn’t there for much longer as his grandmother finishes loading the clothing and calls him over so that they can get ready to leave. He stuffs all the worms into his mouth so that he can hold the box of detergent tablets for her. 

It isn’t long before your clothes are done in the wash so that you can dump them into the dryer. You and Jeno pass time by making fun of the music videos playing on the TVs and showing each other viral cat videos. 

If there is one thing you know about Jeno, it’s that he loves cats. He’s always making comments about them in passing, showing you cute videos, texting you that he’ll be home in 10, he’s just busy looking at the cats that are up for adoption. 

He wants one desperately, it’s just that… 

“You know there’s no room.” 

He sighs, leaning back into his chair and it squeaks. “We could, like, take it for walks to get the energy out. If anything, we can get an older, lazy cat. I think it would like the space between the window and the couch.” 

You laugh, turning your head to check the time left on the dryer. “The non-existent one?” 

He throws his head back and groans. Your eyes stay focused on the way his adam's apple bobs for a second too long. “Jeno, living in a space that small feels like a crime against myself sometimes. I would not want to put an animal through that type of pain. Hell, we’re the hamsters in the cage!” 

He chews on the inside of his cheek, giving you the stink eye, but it’s all in good fun. Deep down he knows that you’re right. 

The buzzer on the dryer goes off and catches the attention of both of you. You unload everything and dump it onto the folding table, a sigh slipping out of your mouth. 

Silently, Jeno offers to help you fold. You two split the pile of clothes in half and get to work, an awful Imagine Dragons song filling the silence. 

The entire situation isn’t quite ideal. The music is bad, the laundromat’s a little too cold, and you’d very much rather spend your time doing something else like ordering food and picking a thriller movie or challenging your roommate to a game of zombie COD. 

But that’s what life is all about, isn’t it? Doing mundane and annoying things with someone that you care about. Folding your laundry with Jeno right next to you, tackling the boring tasks in life with someone by your side. He didn’t have to come help you, but perhaps he offered because he didn’t want you to suffer by your pile of clothing alone. Yeah, that’s what it’s all about. 

It’s a little domestic. Okay, it’s painfully domestic. Everything about Jeno is- you live with him, for heaven’s sake. It’s an entire domestic fantasy playing out right before your eyes. 

At this point, you’re folding all your clothes on autopilot and you don’t even realize that the both of you are done with your piles. Jeno places every article neatly in your big drawstring bag, keeping it tidy before pulling at the string. He keeps it in his arms as he guides the both of you out to his car. 

“Let’s pick up some food, yeah? And search up some good thrillers in the car?”

Upsettingly domestic. 

When something, anything, occurs in Jeno’s life that requires him to tell another person so that he can get it off his chest, you are the first person to come to mind. How can he not think about you, when you’re the first face he sees in the morning? The one he makes dinner with, the one he discusses the houseplants with, the one he has to watch get ready in the bathroom, toothbrush in your hand as you sloppily call out to him to please remember to take out the trash. 

The two of you share a life together, you share practically everything together. Your living space, tidbits of your interactions with others, news that’s spreading around the city; your unmasked heart and soul shines through every single day. It’s so candid it could almost be romantic, yet it’s anything but that. 

Well, sometimes… 

No, Jeno doesn’t go there. But he can’t help but think… 

When something happens, you’re the person he wants to tell. The most basic and foundational characteristic of love. Sharing. It transcends the physical- of course, you do find yourselves splitting dinners and breaking the last cookie in half so that the both of you can enjoy. But it’s more than that, now. You and him break apart your own beings so that the other can understand, listen, and console. It’s love, he thinks. 

Platonic love, he quickly corrects. 

He’s been so busy thinking about it that he’s barely realized he’s been staring at the one piece of paint that’s chipping off the wall for too long. The sound of the shower water hitting the tub brings him back, and he looks to the closed bathroom door. 

He rushes to it, knuckles knocking on the wood. “Can I come in?” 

“Huh?” You practically holler. He laughs to himself, imagining your confused, scrunched up face. 

“Can I come in?” 

“Oh, yeah. Be quick because all the cold air gets in!” 

So he does just that, opening the door just a crack and trying to squeeze in his muscular form so that the air doesn’t rush in.

Jeno closes the door and leans against the bathroom counter, all the heat from the shower coddling him close. It could almost make him sleepy. 

“Taeyong wants to promote me.” 

“Huh?” You call, hands freezing in your hair as you wash it. “Are you serious? To what?” 

“Assistant Manager.” 

“Assistant Manager? Are you gonna take it?” 

“I don’t know, it’s just… I’m kind of nervous.” 

A beat of silence. He calls out your name. 

“Yeah, sorry. My face was in the water. Anyway, why? Scared an old geezer is gonna chew you out for the ‘new generation’s music’?’

He laughs. You’re lucky enough to hear it over the water. 

“It’s just a lot of responsibility, you know? Like, I’m so used to just doing what I’m told but now, it’s like, I gotta be in charge and tell the employees to get off their phones when they're on the clock. It’s betrayal, you know? How can I look Jisung in the eye and tell him that this is his first warning? I can’t do that.” 

You shut your eyes and try to stifle a laugh. It’s a laugh of endearment, though. Jeno cares so much about the people around him- even if it’s his younger coworker who works part time at the record store and barely even sees him more than three times a week. 

You shut the water off, voice clear. “Jeno. You worry a lot.” You pull back the shower curtain just a little to peek out, “Can you hand me my towel?”

He obeys, holding out the towel to the edge of the shower with his eyes closed. As soon as he feels it slip past his fingers and the sound of the shower curtain rings clink together, he opens his eyes. You’re still behind the curtain, drying off. 

“I think you should go for it. You’ll get more experience. Plus, from what you’ve told me, the record shop isn’t crazy unmanageable and unorganized. And,” You add, dragging out the ‘a’, “You’ll get a raise.” 

You’re right, he thinks, tilting his head and staring off. The shop is pretty calm, the customers are mostly older regulars and the occasional teenager in search of a Harry Styles vinyl. Plus, a raise would be nice. Really nice. 

“Did you tell Mark and Jaemin? What did they say?” 

Jeno hesitates. No, he hasn’t told them yet. You’re always the first person he wants to tell. 

“No,” He starts, honest. “I was gonna tell them right now, but I wanted to tell you first. I think I’ll follow your advice anyway.” 

Your heart stops in your chest. God, that made you feel so special. You’re at a loss for words before you feel the water drip from your hair down your back. 

“Good. Now step out ‘cuz I gotta dry off.” 

He smiles and follows your every word. He remembers not to let the cold air in, too. 

Jeno is your roommate. He is also your friend, a companion, a confidant. He’s nothing more, nothing less. 

People have eyes. They’re allowed to look. In fact, it is their god given right to let their eyes linger a little longer on someone as attractive as Lee Jeno. 

Why are you so upset? You can’t just shield him, carry a curtain around and charge a fee for people to look his way. He’s a free man. A free, good looking man. 

This party was a mistake. Watching Jeno be tonight's entertainer has planted a seed of bitterness and disappointment in your stomach that you have never felt. The bitterness is towards the situation- you’re not sure if you’re disappointed in yourself for feeling this way or for how the universe has laid out the cards. You long for something to happen. You wickedly hope for that girl to spill her drink on herself and be forced to walk away. You wickedly hope for Jeno to come to his senses and ask you if you wanna go back home and crush some random 12 year old in a shooter game. 

Come to his senses? What are you, his mentor? God forbid the man has fun for one night. He’s not even doing anything that bad. Just dancing with some girl you have never seen before, lifting his hand and caressing her jaw. He’s so unbelievable and so, so, so horrible when he gently tucks her hair behind her ear. You want to vomit. 

“You okay?” Jaemin asks, making you jump as he slips into the spot right next to you. He’s got a red cup in his hand and you hold back from snatching it and downing whatever the fuck is in it. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah. I’m kind of proud, actually. I’ve never seen Jeno interact with a woman before. Not like this, at least. I always thought he’d bring girls home every night, yet he never does.” 

Jaemin’s eyes flash with something like confusion, tenderness, sorrow. You don’t see it though, busy focused on the way Jeno leans into her and talks gently by her ear. She’s giggling and sliding her hand up his chest. You’re positive she can smell the cologne you helped him pick out earlier. 

“He’s just being courteous of you.” 

“I guess,” You say with a lazy shrug. Deep down you know you’re only trying to convince yourself that you see him and support him as a friend; strictly a friend. And you seem to play that part pretty well, because Jaemin does not question you at all. 

“I think I’m gonna head home,” You start, checking the time on your phone. Jaemin whips his head to look back at you, “Tapping out already?” 

“Yeah. I don’t really know anyone here, only came because Jeno invited me. Plus, he recently bought some new maps in COD, so, I think I wanna try those out.” 

“You sure? I think I could introduce you to someone, help you get that midterm stress off your mind.” 

You practically snort at his offer. He’s considerate, you think, but you cannot betray your own feelings. You’d be a fool to try and trick yourself into thinking a fling with some rando will make you feel better. 

Well… you’re still a fool. Yearning from afar, not doing anything about it. 

“Nah, I’m okay. Thank you, Jaem. Get home safe, okay?” 

He nods and the two of you part ways. 

You find yourself in an uber, shooting Jeno a text that says hey, i really wanna play COD so im heading home early. please be safe lol. :_)

You’re dropped off and you walk up to your apartment, trying your hardest not to wallow in your own feelings. You head straight to the bathroom to remove all your makeup and get ready for bed before pulling yourself up the stairs. 

Your mattress awaits you like it’s got its arms open. Cozy, warm, solid enough for you to cry into. 

Your home feels your pain. It’s like everything looks a little bit darker, the cream white walls seeming to be gray, the little light fixtures and hardware looking like frowny faces. The walls absorb all your feelings, reeking of longing and hope and something else that is usually paired with those two feelings. Something so captivating and large, dark and light, something so scary yet you just have to have faith in it. Something that you would rather die than confess to yourself. 

So it sits, pent up in the walls of your home. It haunts you. This stupid apartment haunts you, traces of the life you live with Jeno everywhere. You can’t hide. You can’t run to the other side of the hallway and lock yourself in the room in the very back- it’s not there. Your life and your feelings are right in front of your face, everywhere you turn, everything you touch. It stings, it burns, and god, this home will kill you. Your close and unavoidable proximity with Jeno will kill you. 

You’re so busy moping that you almost miss the sound of the door opening. It’s quiet, slow, and you bet to yourself that Jeno is trying his hardest to be kind, to not wake you up. 

You’re scared that you’ll hear the giggle of the girl, but it never comes. Just Jeno making his way around the shoebox, using the flashlight on his phone to light the way instead of switching the lights on so that he doesn’t disturb you. Curse that stupid boy. 

Jeno shuts the door to the bathroom and turns on the shower. The sound is so calming that it lulls you to sleep. 

He lets the warm water caress at his back, lets it help him relax. He replays every single thing that happened at the party. 

He regrets leaving you alone. In the back of his mind, he knew Mark and Jaemin would take good care of you, but shouldn’t he be doing that? Taking care of you. 

He’s not obligated to, of course, and he knows that if he ever mentioned that to you, you’d snicker in his face and tell him to shuddup and let loose. But he can’t. He tried and didn’t even get that far. 

Jeno got into the bedroom and onto the bed with that girl, his body slowly pushing against hers so that she could lay down. The top few buttons of his black shirt were already popped open and his mind was so foggy he almost didn’t hear his phone buzzing in his pocket. 

He felt bad, but he knew he would’ve hated himself even more if he ignored it, so he had pulled back and checked the screen. In his heart, he knew it was you. 

Luckily, you hadn’t seemed upset, but it was like guilt took him hostage as he realized you left the party without him. You got home without him, and you spent the night alone. Jeno suddenly felt so upset and so… gross. Grossed out with himself. He tossed you to the side just like that. And for what? A fling that wouldn’t fulfill his heart like you do? Yeah, no. 

“I’m sorry,” He starts, looking from his screen to the girl’s face. She’s got a look that tells him she already knows what's coming. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Um, yeah,” He says automatically, then falls quiet for a beat. “Well, kind of. I have to go.” 

“It's okay,” She says gently, and it hurts even more because she's genuinely nice about it. “Get home safely. I hope everything’s alright.”

So now Jeno’s home but he’s a little too late. You’re already tucked away in bed and he wishes he would've just come back with you, play a few games and then crash. It's odd not to hear you tell him goodnight; it's become like a ritual between you two. Some nights the two of you stick together like packed sardines in the bathroom, brushing your teeth and poking fun at one another with a quiet and subtle joy in your hearts. 

Jeno’s finishes showering by the time he’s done thinking over all the details. He dries off fast, feeling slightly uncomfortable and alone. Every space in the apartment is so silent that it’s unnerving. 

Before Jeno slips past the curtain to get to his bed, he stands at the foot of the stairs, making out the shape of your sleeping form, face smushed directly in your pillow. The sight is so you that he cannot help but chuckle quietly to himself. 

He sees you there, at the top of the stairs, and for a second it feels like you're waiting for him there. Patient and resting as he navigates through how he feels before making his descent upwards. 

Quickly, he realizes he's too sleepy to be plaguing himself with these thoughts. Jeno pulls back the curtain and sinks into his bed, subconsciously falling in a position that would fit against your body so perfectly if the two of you shared a sleeping space. You feel so close and so far from him. It's the last thing he thinks about before he falls asleep. 

How do you tell someone that you want them without actually telling them? 

Your relationship with Jeno is built on something so fragile that he’s afraid to mess up, trip and let the glass shatter. You’re friends– real close friends, if he thinks about it. You share a home together that’s small enough to make him think that it certainly violates a number of human rights. You cannot go a day without seeing or speaking to each other. 

It's so sour and it's so, so sweet. Spending everyday together, reading each other, communicating in small ways that mean the most– his heart swells and gets clogged in his throat. He’s so close to you it's like your fingertips are brushing against his as you sit on opposite sides of the couch. And, if all goes well, he could unabashedly take your hand in his and spread kisses on the back of it. Even better, he could pull you right into his lap and smush at your face, kiss you there too. So many possibilities… 

Along with those possibilities comes the ones that are on the other end of the scale. He could open up (more than he already has) about his feelings and unintentionally make you uncomfortable. Oh, he would hate himself if you felt uncomfortable in your own home. Then it would really be bad, because you'd both need time and space but you practically share a goddamn bunk bed and a kitchen that feels like a toddler’s first real-life toy. It pains him more to think that you'd be unhappy than how he would feel to be rejected. 

Instead, Jeno’s feelings manifest into actions and touch. When you get up from putting on your shoes and your hair's a little astray, he’ll reach over and fix it for you, keeping his touch light and gentle. He insists on helping you button up your coats and tying a bow on the back of your dresses. When he sees that you’re especially tired, he’ll wash all the dishes even though it was your turn. Sometimes, when the apartment feels especially warm and the lighting is cozy and you feel so lethargic yet blissfully happy, you’ll tell him about your day with his thumb caressing your cheek. And sometimes, you’ll lean into the palm of his hand and he’ll keep you still. 

It’s not until the day where he finds you knocked out on the couch that you slip up. He had come home late from work, the shop buzzing with people looking for a Christmas gift for that one vinyl collector of a friend. He had told you he’d be late, but you thought you’d still have enough energy to stay up and wait for him so that the two of you could eat dinner and call it a night. 

Unfortunately, you did not have the energy. Finals had been consuming your life and now that it was finally over, you ended up knocking out on the couch like a baby, leaving the lights on and everything. Jeno smiled softly at your sleeping form, a familiar type of warmth crawling into his heart and nestling inside it. He quietly slipped off his shoes and made his way straight toward you, calling your name softly as a test. 

You didn’t wake at all. You were gone. 

It kind of makes him laugh; a laugh of adoration, not amusement. It’s one of those things that’s a little funny in its own way. 

It happens, he supposes, when your heart and life is so full of love that it has to escape somehow. In touch, in kisses, in laughter. 

For you, it escapes loud and clear- verbally. 

After Jeno decides to take a risk and lift you into his arms, you automatically curl into him, trusting him even in the depths of your sleep. He’s slow to walk up the stairs, careful to not let your head hit the wall as he makes his way upward. 

And it’s when he lays you down on your mattress tenderly, hands lightly pushing away all the hairs that fell onto your face, that you stir just a little bit. 

“Goodnight,” He whispers to you, using his body to block out the light he hadn’t turned off. A dopey little smile creeps onto your face. You’re euphorically sleepy, the feeling of slipping in and out of it feels so good. 

“Thank you,” You rasp a little, turning over. “Love you.”

Then you’re gone again, and Jeno is frozen in place at the top of the stairs, shoulders stiffening as the words swirl around in his head. 

Firstly, he’s upset he didn’t get to say it back. But the disappointment washes away quickly and he’s overcome with joy, practically buzzing as he descends down the steps to shut off all the lights and get ready for bed. He’s got a stupid smile on his face that he can’t even put away as he brushes his teeth, and if any medical professional were to see him right now, he’s surely be diagnosed with lovesickness. 

He whimsies all the way to his room, pulling back the curtain and plopping down on his bed like it’s a cloud and he’s in heaven. He falls asleep thinking of all the ways to say I love you. 

Winter break is lovely. It’s an abundance of warm drinks, wooly socks, sleeping in, and having an excuse to wear corny pajama sets. Your heart is at ease and the cold weather feels so nice when it bites at your cheeks- especially when you feel yourself grow a little warm around Jeno. 

For Jeno, it’s even better because there are a plethora of Christmas parties. 

And, usually, there’s mistletoe. 

“Alright, don’t get too excited. Close your eyes!” 

He obeys, shutting them and even bringing up his hands in front of his face so that you don’t think he’s pulling any tricks. 

You’ve got him sitting on the couch in anticipation as you dig through your shopping bags to find what’s so important. After a few moments of rustling and humming under your breath, he hears you sigh in relief. 

You hold up two sweaters in front of you, side to side. One is clearly bigger than the other. They’re thrifted and it’s very obvious that they were previously owned by elderly people; maybe they scream vintage a little too much, earth toned with eye-catching patterns like stripes and triangles running across the entire sweater. They’re only a little bit outdated, but painfully cute, and perfect for the season. 

“Okay. Open!” 

Jeno lays his eyes upon the sweaters and immediately breaks out into a smile, eyes forming crescents. Really, he doesn’t even look at them for long. His gaze lands directly on you. 

“You like ‘em?” 

“Very much,” He affirms, with his eyes still set on you. He’s not really talking about the sweaters. 

“Good! We’re wearing them at Hyuck’s party this weekend.” 

So the two of you wear the matching sweaters to Donghyuck’s party. When the both of you step in, Jaemin automatically makes a face at Jeno, an expression that silently screams Finally? but Jeno shakes his head. He doesn’t look solemn, though. In fact, his eyes are hopeful and bright as he nods his head at everything you say. 

He doesn’t budge from your side, either. 

(He wants everyone to see that you’re matching). 

It pays off because Renjun tells you both that you look like an elderly couple, to which he quickly corrects himself and says ‘duo’ instead. It’s kind of embarrassing with the way that he rushes off after, face a little red. You’re not sure if it’s because of the fact that he’s tipsy or because he’s worried he’s crossed a boundary. If anything, his comment makes you have to hold back a smile, and from the corner of your eye, you see Jeno biting at his cheek too. 

Renjun’s flushed cheeks inspire you. “You want anything to drink?” 

Jeno contemplates for a second before shaking his head, “Nah. I’ll drive us back home.” 

But he follows you to the kitchen anyways, where it’s quieter because everyone is in the living room talking over Jingle Bell Rock. You swear you can hear Donghyuck break into laughter at some point; you can already envision his happy little glowing face nuzzling up to Mark. 

Jeno leans against the doorway to the kitchen, fingers playing with the edges of his sweater as he observes you moving around to get yourself a drink. He’s thinking about a hundred things at once, and somehow, you both calm and excite him. 

You approach him, steadily holding your glass so that nothing sloshes over and spills. “You wanna try? Just a sip.”

He nods and takes it from your hand, bringing it up to his lips for a second before he evaluates the taste. You wait expectantly, and then Jeno gives you a solid nod before looking back over his shoulder and extending his arm to place your glass on the counter. When he turns back around, his hand comes up to gently rest on your arm. He very, very carefully pulls you closer. It’s gentle, slow, and so subtle you almost don’t even realize the proximity between you two getting smaller and smaller by the centimeter. “It’s pretty good.” 

“Just pretty good?” 

“Yeah,” He replies, tone so soft and far away that you immediately realize he doesn’t really care about the drink all that much. And then you realize that he’s got these beseeching love-me eyes that make your heart twist in such a pleasant way that you know you can’t escape. 

You can’t go back to how it was before. You’ll never be your old self, coexisting with Jeno in your tiny home with no care or feeling in the world towards him. You can’t go back to the days of trying to sneak past him, trying to go through the days without making eye contact and conversation. You won’t even be able to go back to the days where you merely saw him as a friend, a casual buddy that you’re glad you have a good dynamic with because you happen to share a home together. You can’t ignore how you feel, what you feel. It’s so heavy and it lingers in the air between you two now. You wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Look,” He nearly whispers, gesturing towards the ceiling with his chin. 

Mistletoe hangs at the doorway, green and white with a red ribbon adorning the stems. It’s so predictable and awful and overall so corny that you can’t help but laugh. Your tongue pokes at your cheek as your eyes trail from the plant back down to Jeno, who looks at you expectantly. He’s mindful enough to leave enough space for you to make a getaway if you want to. 

“Well,” You start, though it sounds more like a question, prompting Jeno to lean into you. 

He dips down and slots his lips against yours, pulling a wanton sigh out from you. You’re quick to have your hands on him, fingers tightening around the fabric of his sweater and you swear you can feel him smiling within the kiss. It’s almost enough to make you pull back so you can see the look on his face, but he holds you in place, fingers softly trailing through your hair. He hums contently, the deep sound of it making the tips of your ears warm. 

Your hands travel, sliding up his chest, and the two of you break apart before you end up devouring one another at the doorway of Donghyuck’s kitchen. 

Jeno smiles down at you as I’ll Be Home For Christmas starts playing. 

You’re a little nervous, the fear that comes with love pestering you at the back of your mind. You’re scared this’ll be a big unspeakable thing, a thing you’ll have to avoid in the house with Jeno. A thing that’ll never happen again, a thing to blame on the tiny sip of the drink he had and the consequences of spotting mistletoe. 

But Jeno’s eyes ask you to trust him, that he wants this just as much as you do. Perhaps this can be a reoccurring thing, except you don’t need mistletoe or drinks. You can do this in the comfort of your own home, when he gets home from work, after you both finish brushing your teeth, when you’re both making breakfast, or maybe in bed right after you wake up. 

You dive in again, hands sliding farther up till your fingers tousle through his hair, thumbs brushing against his ears. It tickles him a little, body reacting and caving into you a bit more, his hands cupping your cheeks. You tip your head back just the slightest and he follows, looming over you. He looms over you in a way that is so warm and loving and consuming - I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. 

Yes, he’s here. Holding you tenderly, your bodies shaped so nicely against one another at last. You’re no longer sitting on opposite ends of the couch, looking at each other from the top and bottom of the stairs, eyes lingering as soon as someone turns away. He’s touching you, and this time you don’t have to shy away or cough and he doesn’t have to play it off as a mistake, a mindless brush of skin that doesn’t mean anything. No, it means everything now. 

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

Be Kind - James Wilson x peds!reader

description - When your job surrounds you with so much sadness and negativity, it is hard to maintain your own sunshine. But James will always be there to pick up the pieces of your broken crown.

warnings - angst, crying, blood, CPR, mentions of death

word count - 1.9k

requested - no

authors note - yeah I do really like writing angst. I think it's just because I want someone to comfort me how James comforts the reader.

Masterlist

REQUESTS OPEN - request here

-x-x-x-x-x-

Y/n trotted down the corridor on her way to House’s office. Her arms were ladened with various crafting elements. Paper, glitter, glue, and scissors but not proper scissors, only the really blunt ones. Cuddy had warned her if there was another ‘crafting incident’ she wouldn’t be allowed to play with the kids for at least a week. Cuddy knew where to hit her as y/n couldn’t think of anything worse. She still needed to pick up her special box of buttons and ribbon she’d left in James’ office last night. He’d stayed late to finish some paperwork, and she hadn’t wanted him to be alone, so she stayed with him. She had sat criss-cross on his sofa, busily constructing a special sign for a little boy’s room. James had found a tumour and the boy would need to stay in for radiation. James had told her all of this and she had immediately set out crafting wanting him to feel as comfortable in his hospital room as possible.

Y/n finally arrived at the glass office of the differential diagnostics team. Her arms were so full she knocked using her pale pink sneaker. Yes, she could have just entered but she didn’t want to be rude, and they did seem to be in the middle of a case so she didn’t want to interrupt.

“I’m going to let you in anyway, so why bother knocking, especially when you don’t have the corresponding body part available.” House pushed himself up from the table he was leaning on and hobbled over to open the door for the bubbly doctor.

“I didn’t want to assume.” Grinning at the kind gesture from the morose man, she made her way into the room, continuing to juggle her many objects as each began slipping more and more. Cameron rose from her position quickly to relieve her of the glue and scissors. She was rewarded with a soft thank you and a chuckle. Cameron placed the objects on the table and returned to her seat. Each of the three House minions looked on at the woman with curiosity.

“Nice crown.” House gestured up at her head with his cane. Upon it sat a sparkly, plastic, gold tiara which was adorned with pale pink fluff.

“Why thank you! Today I have a very important tea party with Princess Melissa in room 103.” She spoke to the room as if announcing a royal wedding. She became giddy when her gaze landed on the three doctors whom she had yet had a chance to bond with. “Ooo you guys should come too! She’d love more people there; I worry she gets bored with just me. What do you think?”

The three were affronted with such a weird question. Chase was the first to speak after clearing his throat.

“We do have a case on.”

Foreman was the next to give his opinion. “Yeah, a woman with 24 hours to live means we can’t exactly sit around playing pretend.”

Cameron, ever the ‘nice one’ finished with “But thank you for inviting us.”

“Oh, I see.” Her face fell slightly. “Another time then.”

House silently observed his team. Paying close attention to their minute reactions.

Collecting herself, y/n then turned to House. “Cuddy wanted me to tell you, and I quote, ‘the nurses aren’t morons and that in the clinic the nurses record their own time, regardless of what time you give them when you leave.’” House suddenly struck a face like a child who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

The silence in the room became suffocating and y/n couldn’t take it anymore, fearing she’d said something wrong when she looked at the uncomfortable expressions of Chase, Foreman, and Cameron.

“I should go, I left something in James’ office.” She picked up her supplies and left through the door. Her feet shuffling slightly more, and her shoulders had a more noticeable slump. When the door closed Foreman exhaled the breath he had been trying to hold ever since the ball of pink clouds entered the room.

“How did that girl even get through medical school. She can’t be serious. We’re here working against the clock to save people and she’s down there in peds drawing pictures and sipping on air.”

“Who’s she helping doing that? What if one of her patients went into cardiac arrest, how long would it take the ditzy princess to act.” They all let out a giggle at Chase’s joke, trying to imagine the bubbly doctor doing CPR whilst wearing a tiara. Foreman high fived Chase.

“Interesting observations,” House finally spoke up, curious at the opinions of his team. “What about you?” He said directed towards Cameron.

Cameron opened her mouth but nothing came out. She finally relented. “She seems nice, but we’re here to do a job and when we don’t, people die. She looks after kids. You can’t mess about there.”

-x-x-x-x-x-

*your pov*

I stood just to the side of where the glass of the office began. I took in a breath, willing my tears away after listening to them. I know I shouldn’t have eavesdropped, but they should have waited at least a minute after I left to start talking about me. That’s how you successfully talk behind someone’s back. I couldn’t believe their words. We hadn’t known each other long but they had all seemed nice and I was excited to get to know them all. Maybe I came on too strong and that’s what put them off. I’ve been told to tone down my enthusiasm before, and I didn’t want them thinking I’m a joke. These thoughts swirled through my mind as I dragged my feet down the hall to James’ office.

I knocked on the door.

“Come in. Hi baby. How’re you?” James immediately noticed the change in my body as I slumped down into the chair opposite him. I fidgeted with my fingers so I could avoid looking into his eyes, afraid that one gaze would break the dam. But he knew me too well.

“What’s wrong?”

“Am I a good doctor?”

He was shocked by such a question and exhaled in a sort of chuckle. “Darling, why would you ask me that, you are the most talented doctor in this hospital.”

“House is in this hospital.” I said, smirking at his exaggeration.

“And he doesn’t hold a candle to your brilliance. Being a doctor isn’t solely about intelligence. There needs to be compassion, drive, empathy, persistence, optimism. In those respects, you are ten times the doctor he is.”

A tear dripped out of my eye, and I furiously rubbed it away whilst I smiled at what he said. “Thank you.”

Seeing this was more serious than he thought, he rounded the table and kneeled in front of the chair. James gathered me in his arms and stroked the exposed skin of my arm with his thumb. It instantly soothed my nerves.

“What’s brought this on, darling?” He spoke whilst kissing my hair. I dragged the forgotten tiara off of my head, suddenly embarrassed by its presence.

“You can’t deny I am quite a weird doctor. I play games, I wear crowns, I do arts and crafts with patients for crying out loud. Maybe if I didn’t spend so much time playing, I could be a better doctor and do more for my patients.” He was taken aback.

“How dare you say you could ‘do more’. No one in this hospital does more than you and every patient who passes through your care is lucky to have you!”

This did pull out a genuine smile from me.

“You can be anything in this world, and, everyday, you choose to be kind. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

I turned in his arms and pulled him into a bear hug. I squeezed him tight as I buried my head in his neck, practically inhaling the comforting smell. When we ended the hug, he picked up the forgotten tiara.

“By the way, Henry has already put his sign up on his door and wanted me to thank you and invite you to his room for biscuits that I snuck away from the lunch trolly.” He placed the tiara back on my head. I gazed down at him, my eyes still slightly teary, and thanked every star above us for bringing this man into my life.

His face took on a sterner appearance. “Darling, what brought this on?”

-x-x-x-x-x-

*Wilson’s pov*

I ripped open the door of House’s office. Anger bubbled through my veins and motivated my movements.

“Do not speak about her ever!” The three minions jumped at my sudden loud voice, having rarely seen my temper.

“We’re actually kind of-“ “Stay out of this!” The finger, pointed at the three, then warned House to stop speaking.

“I am going to say this only once. I do not know exactly what you said but I do know that she is upset and that is unacceptable. If you have a problem with the way she goes about her job, keep it to yourself, as her many accolades and track record show she is doing an excellent job without your help. Her patients trust her, their families trust her. And if to gain that trust she has to put on a tutu and go to a tea party once in a while then she’s going to do it because that is the kind of person she is.” By this point my voice was raised to the max before it became yelling. I stared each of them down, so they felt the full extent of my words.

“Believe it or not, that stuff you view as frivolous, she enjoys doing. The children who come into her care don’t have much and she brings a little bit of light back into their lives.” By this point my anger had clouded my mind and I’m pretty sure I was just on a tangent now. I couldn’t think of an end for my rant, my head was just filled of her, and thinking about how upset she had been physically hurt me.

After pacing for a few seconds and rubbing my hands over my face, I made my way towards the door. But I stopped short and turned back to the stunned faces of the three doctors.

“If there is one thing from house’s lessons that I am going to un-teach you it is this; never mistake kindness for weakness, or positivity for stupidity.”

I left the room with a veritable slam of the door.

-x-x-x-x-x-

A silence settled over the room after Wilson had left. No one wanted to speak as the power of the rant still hung heavy in the room.

“As punishment, you’re all on ER duty.” House broke the tension and was met with a resounding mix of complaints and shocks. “Enough! Get out!”

They were all shocked into submission and left the room. They had all heard House angry before, of course, but rarely in the defence of someone else.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Chase, Cameron, and Foreman entered the ER, ready for a shift of vomit and broken bones. The rattle of a bed being wheeled down the hallway quickly was heard by the three and they all jumped out of the way in time. The sight they were met with after the bed broke through the door of the ER stunned them all into silence.

A stretcher on a bed was pushed through the door by two paramedics. On top lay a girl, no more than 8 or 9, who was bleeding profusely on the bed. Y/n kneeled over the girl administering CPR, covered in blood up to her forearms whilst barking out orders to the doctors and nurses around her.

After the bed passed by, no one dared speak. None of them knew what to say in the face of that image. Unbeknownst to the three, House had crept up behind them after, proudly, witnessing the same scene.

“How’s that for a ‘ditzy princess’.”

-x-x-x-x-x-

[tarotphil]

Bestie I need to know what answers corresponded to Dan or Phil

oh my gosh I’d love to share :)) take the quiz before reading below the cut!!!!! also take this as the performance art it is, I’m not genuinely assuming very specific things about dan and phil’s internal worlds lol

for Dan: love like a dog as in loyal, eager to provide a service, full blown adoration. love like a leaky faucet as in always present even when the sink is “off”. but also as in sporadic, unexpected, unavailable. (this is not a dig at dan, that is the option I would choose)

for Phil: love like an archaeologist as in dedicated to craft of discovery, careful, curious. love like a snowstorm as in all encompassing, obscuring, hungry

for Dan: Catholic guilt yeah, but also thinking on the past in a “I wish I had done it different way”

for Phil: mmmmmmmmmmmmmm. among other things his commitment to nostalgia is a type of grief.

for Dan: peeling fruit as an act of service has big dan energy. he would pass tiktok clementine theory. cannabalism bc i think he’d enjoy himself on yellowjackets Hannibal hunger as love tumblr. angels is his for a lot of reasons. I was thinking about angels as machinery, which meshes with his clean brutalism aesthetic. also angels as fallen from grace, as a subversive queer symbol

for Phil: time loops, we are back to the grief and nostalgia. but I’m also appealing to his brand of creativity here. glitch theory, fantasticalism. ghosts….. we are back to grief, but also his understanding of horror. the ocean is something I associate with phil a lot for some reason. I think it’s the mystery of it

for Dan: he’s a teddy bear, he’s so soft. he has his childhood teddy still. glowing globes for mystery, matches the aesthetic of the moon room. kiss me lollipop…… must I say more

for Phil: I was so captivated by him going “I think that’s what god looks like” in relation to the golf with friends structure. so, for phil, interesting lines and lights that evoke a feeling of reverence <3 icy stag bc I associate him with snow and the fantastical. surreal spotlight sky… I can’t explain it just is

for Dan: A Boat is a poem to me about navigating depression, I think dan would love it. Dan is SO this too shall devastate coded, I don’t think I need to explain.

for Phil: the Kyla Jamieson poem for a few reasons. Love of the natural world, but also I think it carries a sense of creative frustration? The Athena Davis poem because of how gentle it is. meditations on death, meditations on kindness

Dan and Phil: this is the only option on the quiz that gives points to both outcomes…. I want to do with you what spring does with cherry trees. That’s so them

I actually think these kinda speak for themselves

for Dan: he’s such a sensitive soul, which is why he got the heart hurt option. he puts so much of his heart into everything, so this is an acknowledgment of him not being as cerebral as he thinks. for the bones, an ache in my bones is one of the ways I visualize my depression. a bone deep heaviness

for Phil: hurt in your hands because of hands as a symbol for creativity. to me this meant an itch to create. hurt in your lungs I can really only justify by vibes. the hurt of running too hard maybe? Of a body meant to house you doing a bad job of it?

for Dan: mmm realizing I said I associate phil with the ocean which is true, but I associate Dan with whale falls. that’s all I got for that lol. for the microbiome, I love love love the human microbiome, it’s fascinating. I think dan would have a heck of a time with the idea that we’re mostly made up of non self organisms

for Phil: beauty in the small things and beauty in natural system we’re not at all a part of. nod to his love of birds, love you Steve

these are mostly all vibes, except for Phil’s sense of otherworldliness and Dan’s commitment to forward growth

for Dan: the wooden overcoats quote…… sorry not get 2009 on you. The Beatrice letters quote is a little bit “it’s awful work” “not to me, not if it’s you”. as a doctor loves his sickest patient for real

for Phil: the Mabel quote is a little bit about love as a creative I think, and a private creative at that. The love exists even if you destroy the art. the locked tomb quote, they are so dependent. he dyed his shoes green

[polkanight]

Can we talk about Soren? I want to talk about Soren.

(I may eventually talk about Claudia in another post but I’m not certain)

(also SPOILERS FROM TDP SEASON4)

-

-

-

-

So, I’m watching tdp from season 1 and knowing how things unfold, my stomach churns by seeing how Viren treats BOTH Soren and Claudia, but I want to focus on Soren bc he’s closer to my experience as the child of a narcissist parent.

Being the child of a NP (someone who’s emotionally immature and relies on their children to meet their needs), on your teen years, felt like walking on thin ice 24/7. I never knew what would trigger a critic, a snark comment about my body, my intelligence, my ability to compromise and to finish tasks, etc.

I was, more than once, called silly, dumb, aloof, to watch my weight, to watch how I dress, etc, etc. all of that coated with the premise of love, of “I’m teaching you how to do things”, of “I’m your tutor, your mentor, your only friend, your only safe harbor”, someone, the only one I could “rely on”.

This comes at the cost of the development of our sense of self-worth. As child of NP parents notice this, we’re taken by an anger, a strong desire to put up distance from NP and at the same time the utter panic of not being able to do it, being triggered when we get a message or a visit by NP. It's also very interesting to see how Soren and Claudia developed these issues in very distinct ways, but both triggered by being raised as someone who most likely is a NP.

(look at him defying the idea that magic- the very craft of Viren, the sole identity of Claudia - is something all-positive to be ever-cherished)

Growing up, we learn that our mood revolves around our NP, and no matter what we do, we know we’ll never get the approval or even the sympathy of the NP. They carry the room with them, their needs, ideas and wants must always be a priority, even if it means dragging the house down.

I’ll quote this:

“Until they have a need that’s being met.”

And here my Soren dam cracked in s4, and my heart races and my breath catches for a fictional little boy.

You should stop if you don’t want Spoilers of S4.

-

I had a really REALLY REALLY hard time when Soren finds Claudia and I anticipated that he would eventually find out Viren was alive, but I honestly wasn’t ready for his talk with Claudia, and I also have a few cents to spare.

Claudia tells Soren that “Humans understand suffering because it goes back over generations.”

And Soren is trying to his deep, beautiful, bright core to break this cycle of resentment, violence and remorse. (mygod he’s so precious god help me)

Then, Claudia comes in with the (involuntary/naturalized) family blackmail.

“Without magic you would be dead. Without dad’s magic.”

The guilty trip, being indebted, being trapped in the cycle, but we want out, and to hell with what we owe. We owe them nothing, because they took our sense of self and we build it from the entangled emotional mess that it is our heart.

I can see his face looking up at the image of his until-then deceased parent, I think I will carry this for a long while because I had no idea how it would affect me, but the fact is that more than once, a child of a NP parent will think of how things will be by the time the NP is “gone for good”.

I give zero fucks if people think this is ungrateful, spiteful, selfish, mean, cruel, but the fact is that being stripped of your self-steem and of the ability to grow to the things you love, to grow to life, is the spiteful, selfish and mean thing.

When he tells Claudia that they don’t have to do what Viren wants, he’s expressing a well-known mixture of pain, guilt and relief by thinking the NP is dead.

They aren’t around anymore, the weight of their impossible standards are over, we are free from their grasp, we can pursue our passions, we can thrive in our relationships with people from out of our blood relatives circle. If it seems exaggerated, it’s because these are all things that the NP meet with cynicism. There is “no life, no real friends, nothing can replace your family”. And I say that’s bullshit.

Whereas I have relatives that I truly love, I have friends who have provided growth, patience, love and support, we have learned from each other, we have fought and forgive, we give each other space when needed, we are not seen as an extension of their self, we can be a proper person.

Can you understand how much this means to Soren? How much he thrives by being around Callum, whom is endlessly curious about magic but at the same time wary of it, by finding purpose in protecting Ezran and by fighting alongside Rayla. Soren knows and feels how he changed, he’s more confident to trust in his sense with animals (this is so beautiful too, I can’t even), and he is smart, he has such wisdom, and this is shown since s1.

I never understood people who treat him as a dumb annoying comic relief. He is the very soul of the changes that need to happen in the conflict between Xadia and Katolis, and I only hope that Viren eats an entire humble pie so he proves he’s not actually a NP and that he acts the way he does out of pure desperation and hubris.

I truly hope Viren sees his lovely, smart and incredible boy for what he really is, and not as an extension of his hurt self.

[bijoupreciieux]

𝟑-𝟓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘.

EMOTIONS / FEELINGS:

confidence / self-love. she never feels the need to be in a relationship, she enjoys it when she is in one and she's a wonderful girlfriend but she's perfectly happy on her own as well. she would marry herself if she could.

ambition / drive; she is a slytherin after all.

fiercely protective over her friends & loved ones.

upmost pride in her craft and in her work on stage and in her personal solo career.

"borderline crazy" competitive at times. she can get intense about it. she feels the need to excel at everything she does. her achilles heel is cooking, she can make toast but that's about it.

QUOTES:

❝ i don't care who he is, i've been told by multiple girls that his behavior is inappropriate so fire him and find someone else. i won't have anyone here that makes the women on stage or behind the scenes feel unsafe or uncomfortable.❞

❝ and why does it make you so angry that i'm fully aware i'm beautiful? and that i'm aware i'm more than just that? ah because you want me to base my confidence on what you think? how pathetic.❞

❝ i do have high standards, how could i not? my papa treated me like a princess as people say. let me clear, i don't mean that he let me get away with whatever i wanted. but he treated me like i was so so precious, something to be fiercely protected so i expect from my relationships now. ❞

❝ i love women, i just love women so much. i feel like women are so connected to each other on a spirtual level even if we don't know each other. have you ever been in a girl's bathroom at a nightclub? i still think of this gorgeous red-haired witch i cried with and cuddled with because her boyfriend broke her heart. i never learned her name. we were very drunk. ❞

COLORS:

black

purple

gold / silver

pink

SCENTS:

expensive floral or sweet-smelling perfume.

ATTIRE:

high-fashion monochromatic looks; high heels or thigh-high boots. fur coats, expensive jewelry. designer two-piece outfits. classic sixties cut-crease style makeup neutral tone or colorful.

black and/or amethyst haute-couture dresses or outfits worn for every award ceremony, an homage to her beloved meraxes.

pretty full-length dresses with multiple layers underneath; with corsets adorned with hand-embroidered flowers & dragons.

perfectly defined curls, half-up half-down hairstyles with space buns.

OBJECTS:

a sleek black grand piano, very expensive and beautiful. sheet music is enchanted to turn page without her having to move her hands from the keys.

an entire large room for her clothing & accessories. bureaus and wardrobes with expanding charms to house even more clothing than initially meets the eye. a vanity adorned with beautiful perfume bottles and luxury makeup.

a painted portrait of her and meraxes.

her solo records: dragon's daughter / star quality / love, val / and songs for saturn and their alternate covers.

curio cabinet with her awards including her chocolate frog + card and some gifted souvenirs from her shows. framed photos of herself and her fellow cast members on stage or goofing around behind the scenes. a photo of her father giving her flowers backstage on an opening night.

BODY LANGUAGE:

perfect posture, head held up high. "resting bitch face" / "unapproachable" but actually very sweet and warm. her fans know this so are usually never afraid to say hello to her in public.

unable to hide expressions, she wears her heart on sleeve. her expressions are animated. she is a talented actress on stage but in real life she has no poker face.

AESTHETICS / IMAGERY:

the stage of a world-renowned theatre boasting breath taking architecture build centuries before her birth. valyria standing there wearing a beautiful gown singing her heart out, moving the audience to tears.

valyria flying with meraxes in the night, surrounded by a sea of stars. sometimes she falls asleep curled up on his back, lulled by the moonlight.

stolen from: @rhaegore

tagging: whoever wants to do it

[rosiehufflepuff]

☁️🍑☁️🍑☁️🍑☁️🍑☁️🍑☁️🍑☁️🍑☁️

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓋𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝒻𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇

☁️🍑☁️🍑☁️🍑☁️🍑☁️🍑☁️🍑☁️🍑☁️

DRACO X FEM READER !!

House : hufflepuff

Blood line : pure blood

Summary : you and draco has been friends for two years without anyone knowing however lately the secret is out , and people are shaming you about , you (a hufflepuff) is friends with the prince of the slytherin -draco Malfoy - which make him feel bad and ashamed leading to him push you away

Warning : it is little lengthy

Warning : self shame, angry! Draco, bullying, angst, TOO MUCH FLUFF, FLUFFY!DRACO

Year : fifth

Best friend ( maybe secret crush ) trope

——————————————————————————————

For two years we have been friends, two years you have been my safe place, two years , you both would meet in astronomy tower or the forbidden forest in  the night , on the weekends , hidden from the preying eyes of the other people , not cause embarrassment or disgust in fact both of you and Draco loved that this was your thing , a secret , the time for you and him only , it felt like the world was empty and no human was other than you both together and all weight that was on your shoulders would left away , you would spend time together , talking , laughing , reading , or you writing and Draco painting silently enjoying the peace you both had till one day this imaginative world , this world that was owned by you both vanished in thin air ....

A gossiper student saw both of you, resulting of the next day the entire magic craft school, to know about the friendship and it wasn’t just knowing and being silent , no it was vicious and fast like a burning fire scattering through a woodland , that it pushed the Slytherin boy over the edge of anger and spite , resulting in him scanning every inch of the school, running around threatening the students till he found the one and only lavender brown , fueled by anger , seeing nothing but red , the boy corned her in some empty class, he shoved his wand in the Gryffindor neck , if he hated Gryffindor before , it was underestimated now as he despises them with every inch of his body  .

To Draco , Gryffindor took the only opportunity for him to be in peace , to have control over his existence . They all were fortunate bustards , they were the heroes and painted him as the villain , he just wanted to be happy like them but they weren’t allowing it , to Draco they were the only genuine villains.

Nevertheless before the boy can do anything, Snape entered the class, seeing the scene in front of him, alarmed about the mix of anger, tensity and tears that crammed the room, the professor separated both of them by a spell of his wand , as he took the pale boy wand in his hand, shaming him for his doing and lack of control over his emotions with his gaze , ignoring the girl that crawled out of the class, as she thanks merlin for giving her another chance to live and probably now having the Slytherin house head as her favorite professor after this.

Of course this incident didn’t pass quietly, no, it reached Dumbledore , causing Draco to be called and putting Snape in the circumstance of defending the boy and only letting him go with losing 20 points from Slytherin and detention for two weeks , “of course albus would do that !! Any chance to push up his golden house “ draco mind filled with this belief as he raged out of the room, with heat filling his body to the Slytherin room ,all he wanted to be in his atmosphere immediately, away from all the preying gaze that he responded with glare directly making shy away in fear .

Throwing his body on the soft silky sheet of his bed , he couldn’t help but shove his head in hands , he knew!!!! he fully knew!!!!! , that the occurrence with the annoying Gryffindor girl will fuel the whole thing!! But he let his emotions out of control!!! He was so ashamed of his lack of control that he couldn't stop shaming himself till the sun rose up for the next day

His thoughts were correct ..... Merlin..... The following day, the whole school is either talking about the incident with the annoying girl or .... the second thing....... Which hurt him the most ... people were shaming y/n cause she was close to him? Draco was used to people believing terrible of him, .....truth......he wanted that to be his reputation but not that extreme ......... people were shaming her .... about how a Hufflepuff can be close with a nightmare like him .... and if she was a real Hufflepuff.........if she is going to be the first death eater from Hufflepuff.....

” Merlin... Doesn't this academy quiet ever......” draco couldn't help but whisper under his breath as he was done with this school.

Throwing himself in a seat of the slytherin ‘s eating table in the grand hall, hoping it would be quieter but Salazer........he was wrong

“ soooooooooo........ Malfoy!!!! what is with you and the badger girl “

Theo asked with smirk, earring him a sharp scowl from the pale boy, that brought shivers of fear that ran all over his body.

” first there is NOTHING , this school made a whole bloody mountain out of nothing!!!!!, next one more word about this on the table and I will hex anyone to the oblivious!”

the seriousness in Draco ’s words was exhibited , it was powerful that it shut the whole house members down, making everyone eat in silence, in the opposite side of the room, was the Hufflepuff table, he saw you, you have been friends for too long, of course he would be able to identify you so easily. His sharp cloudy grey eyes stopped on ur smiling figure, sensing outrage take over his body....... the words that was talked behind your back were something you never deserve it!!....... , to him .... you were like a flower and everyone tried to kill you from the roots and he was ready to do anything to protect you even stepping on his own heart ....

On your table things were quite different, everyone was cackling and chatting, no one bothered you or gossiped about you, cause as Hufflepuff, the morality of judging people without knowing them was odd, yes some questioned you and Draco friendship cause, well ...he is a git and you are wonderfully nice and cheerful ’so how did that happen? ’ to the rest of the house that was remarkable event

abruptly you felt strong gaze on you, as you notice who, you smiled and waved to the boy on the slytherin table, but his response gave you knot in your stomach, he frowned and got up from the table and walked away...’did I do something wrong ’ , that was weird reaction from the boy, he never behaved like that, sure he wasn't open, carefree and loud if he was he would be in Gryffindor but he was thoughtful with you, as he tried to act more with care as he didn't want to harm your feelings so this response stung a bit.

Then potions class came, you and Draco shared the class, he sat in front of you as he worked alone while you sat with your pal Luna Lovegood from ravenclaw, you finally had the opportunity to talk to your Slytherin friend and check on how is he doing .

so as soon as Snape turned to the board, you patted the boy shoulder to get this attention ” Draco...hi....” no response ” draco, are you okay? ” no response ” i fully know.. That you must be annoyed now but-” ” can we not talk now! I'm trying to concentrate on snape here ” he wasn't yelling but the sharp tone of his voice send you back down to your spot ” I'm sorry... ” even though, you know he must be mad, you couldn't help but get hurt, noticing the reaction on your face, Luna put her hand on yours as you both lock hands as giving you a smile assuring you that it is okay and she is here

she knew you and she knew Draco, it was fascinating to hear how you both are friends but yet she understood how Draco ’arse’ attitude was just a face for his household so she was happy that he got a friend like you in his life perhaps to free him but also she wasn't pleased about how he treated you now but all she can do was just to hold your hand to soothe your feelings .

But it wasn't only Luna who wasn't pleased no Draco himself, he heard the pain in your words and he was conscious of the Ice dripping in his tone, he hated how he couldn't control how feels, he trained all his life for that but he is failing that now ”wonderful malfoy , just incredible “

The potions class was done and you couldn’t be happier , you were out of this room finally Draco out of your sight ! ...you wanted to yell at him and be mad at him for hours, you wanted also to cry but no way in Merlin ’s bread you would cry for a boy , you always were tough emotionally and no way a icy tone will break you in tears “ we are not going to be this low now , hold it “ looking at yourself in the mirror of the girls bathroom , you took deep breathes as your walked yourself out, moving to your next chosen class which is magical music

this was your comforting class but now thanks to a current slytherin , you can’t put up with the music that plays but thanks to Helga kindness from her grave you have Luna with you a familiar face to look at when you crave to scream “ you look upset “ Luna calm voice cut your doze off , you sigh as you respond “ I’m Luna ..... and I shouldn’t be ... I understand his emotions but I’m furious... that he is dismissing mine !! Aren’t we friends !” “SHHHHH” Whispering louder than you aimed at , earned you undesirable scowlled looks , leading you to apologizing to the instructor and your class mates

“ well ..... why you don’t ask him ?? “ “ I want to......but it is hard finding Draco anywhere in Hogwart alone.........he always has people around.......” “ no he is ...” “ what ...wait ! ... what ? Really ??!”” “ SHHHHHHH” dismissing the glare from the male instructor , you and Luna continued the conversation “ Draco is a perfect , he can go out after the allowed hours as they quote to check on students “ “ yes I know this ..... “ “ but the point that is concealed that the Slytherin , use this privilege to spend time introverted in library .... I always saw him.......but...........I’m not his favorite person nonetheless yes ... that can be beneficial for you “

knowing what Luna meant, you nod slowly giving the girl big smile for her help “ Luna the words thank you , doesn’t explain how much I’m thankful for you “ both of you turned to the professor cause till now you both weren’t focusing with noticing how the teacher and class started to fed up on your missing notes, that was the best thing to do.

After finally the pain that you gave to your self and your fellow classmates with your messing notes in the music , you rushed to your dorm to change fast into more relaxed outfit that will suit the cold air that won’t only come from the late night but also from Draco himself , you changed to white shirt dress layered with V neck sage green sweater dress , skin colored stocking and beige combat boots , taking a deep breath to calm the anxiety that was slithering to your soul about meeting the slytherin after the incident, not knowing what his reaction will be as he sees you , you shoved this feelings in the very back of your soul , as you got out of the warm room, and faced by the coldness of the the schools hal, you fought the fear that tried to convince you back to your dorm , as you hurry to the library .

Reading a book in some quiet table alone in the very dark corner, that was your strategy for hiding from madam Irma prince, and somehow it worked as your presence went unnoticed by her or that is what you hoped so .

Soon the time passed soon it became the after hours , as you wait for the slytherin prince, somehow deeply inside , you wanted him to come and not come in same time ....

you didn’t know why but you felt uncomfortable about seeing him after the incident but the need to see him now and to converse with him about his attitude was a must for you.

glimpsing a white hair belonging to a faint dark body passing by, nearly like a ghost, you jumped up on your feet as you strode fast , trying to be calm as possible, you tug on the boy arm. Causing him to rotate, as he shoves his wand to your face with scowl before noticing you ”y/n!!!?! BLOODY HELL!! I almost hexed you!!! ” laying his wand away as his face softened a bit ” I'm sorry...but I need to talk to you.....” lifting up his eyebrow at you , questionably for a second before his Straight face appeared

“ we can’t talk anymore ...”

the words that you feared came scrambling hitting you like a train causing your mind to go blank for a sec before you speak again

“ what !!?? Why !!! We were fine till -“

“ yeah till! .... Till that gryffindor wrecked it ! And for that we can’t be friends anymore ... we can’t be seen together! ......Bloody Salazar, I need to report you to your perfect ! “

“ AND ALL OF THIS FOR WHAT !! CAUSE IM HUFFLEPUFF!! CAUSE YOU ARE SLYTHERIN !! CAUSE YOUR STATUE !! CAUSE THE PURE BLOOD SUPREMACY !! CAUSE SLYTHERIN IS THE ONLY HOUSE !! THAT IS ACCEPTED!!??”

Tears filled your sight, you didn’t care if whole hogwarts heard you , you were hurt , how did he toss you so easily after two years from being friends just cause his status , were you that cheap and meaningless to him? , were you just something for filling his unoccupied period ?.....didn’t he take you as friend or care about you? ...... Were people right about Draco and you are just naive...?

Your mind halts as your ears catch a heavy breathing sound , looking up to the boy in front of you resulting in your eyes growing enormous from the sight in front of you .....

You saw many emotions of draco , many than what most people think there are, but you never ever see him crying before , his gaze was wailing pain and hurt as his breaths was heavy in attempt to process his emotions ....

” you don't comprehend... I don't care about that... I deal with that day-to-day.... I'm the villain in the people eyes!! I was sorted in slytherin y/n... For Merlin sake!!! I'm a death eater in their eyes....no matter what !! ALL ’CAUSE THESE BLOODY BASTARD GRYFFINDORS... THAT WHAT WILL I ALWAYS BE... But you!!! You don't deserve that!! You don't deserve to be treated like that.....you are a good individual...”

” I don't mind draco!!!”

” BUT I DO!! .... You don't listen to what they say about you ......”

” who cares about what they mumble!! THEY ARE STRANGERS! ....Draco if you believe that I'm a good person......Then....You would know I would never mind about what people say and leave you for it !! I Care about my friend Draco here that I know!!!! anyone else no...hell with them to Godric’s fire!! ”

you went closer to draco, locking both of his hands in yours ” I would never quit on you, I will be here to support and...... draco you aren’t villain .... you are just a git that is all, but you are my best git and I’m here for you permanently “

you smiled looking at draco sobbing ’s eyes as you wiped his tears by one of your hands however not allowing his other hand to be out of your hand, squeezing it lightly as a way to confirm your message .

Peaceful moments passed by, with you both staying in your position, finally relaxing after some long day.

Till the slytherin decided to cut the silence

“ You fully understand that .... I wouldn’t ever report you to your perfect ..... “

“ yes I comprehend that, dear “

“ dear ? “

“Hey don’t get cheeky right now ... I just saw your fluffy side “

“ m’sorry, now shut it “

———————————————————————

MY FIRST EVER IMAGINE !! GO EASY ON ME !! I HOPE YOU ALL LOVE IT !!

[shemarmooresfedora]

Menagerie

Summary Quote: “Don’t you get it? It’s all been a lie, Spence. Since the moment we met, our entire relationship has been founded on a carefully crafted lie and since then, we have been tricked into thinking this was love...but maybe that was a lie too.”

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Genre: Angst with happy ending, Fluff

A/N: this fic has already been completed! it’s 25 chapters and just over 40,000 words. i don’t plan on posting all the chapters on to here but i have included the first two and the ao3 link to the rest is at the bottom if you are interested!

Chapter 1

You woke up from your peaceful slumber to hear a loud crash followed closely by someone yelling “FBI”. You screamed, alerting the agents of your presence thinking you were in danger but once the agents had reached your bedroom, you were being put in handcuffs and read your rights.

“W-What is happening? Is this some sort of sick joke?” you stuttered.

“Do you think killing three men is a sick joke?” the muscular intimidating agent spat back.

You were in utter shock. You barely even left the house let alone go out on a murderous rampage.

“I-I don’t know what you think I did b-but I can assure you I-I didn’t kill anyone or do anything illegal,” you tried to stay as calm as possible but you were shaking profusely.

The other agent that was the back-up in your apprehension seemed to notice this and took some sympathy on you by lightening his grip on your cuffs as he led you out of your front door that had been kicked down.

-

You sat in the chilly interrogation room wishing you had something else on rather than a thrifted oversized t-shirt with stains on it that said “Best Dad Ever” and sweatpants. They removed your handcuffs, I guess you weren't considered that much of a threat in a locked room in FBI Headquarters. Although you could not see past the one-sided glass, it was obvious the agents from before and possibly others from their team were standing on the other side, observing you.

-

“Well she is definitely not what I was expecting,” Prentiss was the first to break the silence as the whole BAU team watched you through the glass.

“She was sleeping when we apprehended her. Her facial expressions and body language showed clear signs of distress but I can not be certain if it was because we have the wrong person or she is scared she finally got caught. In her apartment, we found nothing in the slightest bit incriminating, mostly just lots of books,” Spencer spoke, while he was trying to remain impartial, he had admired your taste in literature as he was looking for evidence.

“I’m not convinced. I think this is whole ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ thing is an act,” Morgan stated as he strolled to the door leading to the room you were being held in.

-

The door opened and your eyes flickered up. Much to my dismay, it was the muscular agent rather than the tall, lanky agent who seemed a lot friendlier to you, given the circumstances.

He took the seat across from you and spoke firmly, “I am ready to take your confession whenever you are.”

At this point, you were just getting frustrated. You were ripped from your bed in the middle of the night given no explanation other than you had supposedly killed three men and he had the audacity to ask for your confession to something no one would even tell you the details of. So against your better judgment, you opened your mouth which has been known to get you in trouble from time to time.

“Well, considering no one has even told me what I am formally being accused of or the details, I can’t do that. Do you even have any evidence to keep me here? Oh wait...you don’t...that’s why you need a confession because all your evidence so far has been circumstantial. Only too bad for you...I know my rights. So, you have forty-eight hours to find some real evidence against me, that doesn’t exist if I may add, before you have to let me go.”

The agent looked back at the glass with his jaw dropped.

“I watch a lot of crime TV shows,” you huffed and crossed your arms.

-

“Okay this may be harder than we originally planned, folks. We are going to need everyone on call for the next forty-eight hours until we find some incriminating evidence,” Hotch spoke.

The agents began to depart from the room to review old case files and dig deeper into your personal history. Spencer stayed back for a few minutes and saw tears start to roll down your face when you thought no one was still watching you. You quickly wiped them away and wringed your fingers together. Spencer didn’t know if he should or not yet but he felt bad for you.

Chapter 2

The door opened again but this time, you just kept your eyes down at the table so the person could not see your watery eyes.

You have been trying to put up a brave face but every time, a different agent comes in to question you about your routine, friends, family, and personal life, you just feel exposed.

Traces of your DNA had been found on the bodies and they had all visited your bookstore but that wasn’t enough to convict you I guess. You didn’t know the victims personally but you still felt bad for them.

A cup of coffee was placed gently into your line of sight. You wrapped your hands around the warm paper cup and mumbled your thanks.

“I didn’t know how you liked it. I can add more creamer or sugar if you like,” the voice spoke.

You glanced up tentatively and it was the tall, lanky agent. Your lips turned up ever so slightly into a small smile but it was the most you could manage at the moment. You took a sip.

“No it’s fine, thank you. It really helps. I appreciate it,” you said.

“I’m Spencer, by the way”

“Y/N, but you probably already know that by now.”

He chuckled at your joke. Silence filled the room once again.

“I didn’t do it, Spencer...and I know I can’t really prove that but I wish I could. Most of my friends live in another state and so does my family so I don’t go out too often. I don’t have a boyfriend. I own a bookstore so I spend most of my time there. I don’t really know why this is happening to me,” you started to get choked up again so you stopped talking.

-

Spencer involuntarily blushed when you stated you didn’t have a boyfriend.

He really needed to get it together as much as he wanted to believe you.

You could be a murderer for all he knows...but a really pretty murderer with a great taste in literature and probably even a bigger collection of books than him.

Stop it, Spencer, get your head in the game. He smiled softly once more at you cradling your drink and exited the room.

-

The forty-eight hours were up. They had nothing solid against you. If anything, the team had less of a case against you.

The bodies were all dumped on the opposite side of town from where you lived but it was clear they had been transported there. Garcia’s digging showed you had no car and you weren’t lying when you said most of your friends and family live out of state so the chances of you borrowing someone else's car were unlikely.

Credit card receipts showed you hardly ever went to that side of town and they had profiled the unsub would know the area well.

The victims did come into your store a few times but they also visited all the shops on that street occasionally as well. It didn’t make sense for you to kill your customers. That would just be bad for business and easily linked back to you.

The team agreed that they believed Y/N was no longer a suspect.

-

An officer drove you back to your apartment where luckily, your door had been fixed.

You ordered takeout and took a shower to hopefully rid yourself of the stress of the past two days. Shortly after your dinner, you fell asleep hoping your door would not be busted down again by the FBI.

-

A few days had past and you were opening up the store for the morning. You were in the back organizing the nonfiction section when you heard the soft bell chime of the door opening.

You walked to the front expecting to greet one of your regulars. Once you saw who was standing shyly at the front desk, you stopped in your tracks.

“Spencer?”

“Uh h-hi-hello Y/N. How are you?”

“Good...unless you are here to bring me back in for more questioning”, you said half-joking half-seriously.

“Oh! Um no, you’re all set. I am truly sorry about that. But I do have a question for you”, he was nervously wringing his hands just like you do, looking anywhere but your eyes.

“It’s okay kind of sounds like the wrong thing to say because I would preferably not be dragged out of my bed in the middle of the night and then held for forty-hours but I understand, you were simply doing your job. Anyways, ask away,” you replied.

His eyes finally made contact with yours and he opened his mouth like he was about to say something but completely lost his confidence.

“Do you...um do you...do you have a nonfiction section?” Spencer blurted out.

You didn’t understand how the nonfiction section could make someone so nervous. He looked as if he was going to say something else but thought better of it.

“Of course! I was just organizing it! Right this way!” you chirped with a smile that seemed to untense his shoulders just a little bit.

Spencer perused the section a bit before deciding on a hefty book about the different plants and flowers native to the East Coast. When he made his way up to the front desk to check out, you praised his choice.

“Aw! I love reading about plants. I have some many succulents in my apartment. It's honestly more of a jungle. Have you ever seen forget-me-nots? So lovely!”

Spencer smiled and nodded, knowing if he tried to speak it would be gibberish because he could not focus on anything when he was looking at your radiant smile.

-

“Did you do it?”, Morgan asked as Spencer entered the bullpen with a brown bag.

“No but now I have a book on plants and flowers. I actually am excited to read it. Did you know that some plants like orchids do not require soil to grow they get their nutrients from-”

“You chickened out”, Derek sighed.

“She is so pretty! She was just standing there in all her radiance smiling at me and I couldn’t take the rejection. We dragged her out of her bed and put her in handcuffs only to find out two days later, she is innocent. I can hardly believe she is still being nice to me despite it.”

“Well believe it or not, the first night I met a girl, she was in handcuffs in her bed with me so it’s not always a bad thing,” Morgan smirked.

“Not appropriate, Morgan,” Spencer scolded.

“What are we talking about? I don’t like to not be included in the gossip!” Garcia ran over in her pink heels with Prentiss right behind her.

“Pretty Ricky here went to visit Y/N at her bookstore but then chickened out about asking her on a date,” Morgan informed them.

“Awwwww! I like her! She’s so pretty! Plus, I have already done a background search on her and she is squeaky clean now that we have proven she isn’t a murderer,” Garcia excitedly rambled.

Prentiss was nodding her head in agreement, grinning at Spencer.

Spencer had already chugged his morning cup of coffee during this conversation just to have an excuse to go get another cup and leave this conversation.

“You can’t run away from your feelings, Boy Wonder!” Garcia shouted.

Chapters 3-25

[stranger-who-writes-fiction]

Back at it again with my self-indulgent comic posts. This time! It’s Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow #3, perhaps the most tonally-distinct entry yet, with shades of The Twilight Zone. 

Spoilers!

So, as mentioned, this issue is the most deliberate in terms of both its pacing and its tone, IMO.

What is that tone, you ask?

To quote Alex Danvers, from “Midvale”: Hello, darkness.

THE STORY:

Kara and Ruthye are still looking for Krem Clues in the alien town of Maypole.

(Which is actually just Small Town, USA, complete with vintage 50s aesthetics.)

But the locals are clearly hiding something! So Kara and Ruthye continue to investigate, and they eventually discover what it was that the residents of Maypole were so keen to keep hidden. 

Genocide, basically. 

As I said, this issue struck me as very Twilight Zone; a genre story involving the build-up to a dark twist, all set against the backdrop of an idyllic small town. (Think, like, “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” but instead of focusing on the Red Scare, it’s classism and racism.)

The wealthier blue aliens kicked all of the purple aliens out of town, and when space pirates showed up to pillage and plunder, the blue aliens made a deal with them: the lives of the purple aliens in exchange for their safety.  

Which is where the episodic story connects to the larger mission; it was Krem who suggested the trade, and then joined up with the Brigands (space pirates) when he was freed by the blue aliens.

The issue ends with no tidy resolution to the terrible things Kara and Ruthye discovered, but they do have a lead on where to find Krem, now, as well as Barbond’s Brigands.

KARA-CTERIZATION:

Ironically, it’s here, in the darkest chapter yet, that we get the closest to what might be considered ‘classic’ Kara. 

Which I think comes down to that aforementioned deliberate pace--this issue is a little slower, a little quieter. It gives the characters some room to breathe.

That’s not to say Crusty Kara is gone. Oh no. She is still very much Crusty. XD 

But anyways. A list! Of Kara moments I loved!

I mentioned a few of these in a prior post when the preview pages came out: I like the moment where Kara blows down the guy’s house of cards, and I like that the action is echoed later in the issue when she grabs the mayor’s desk and tosses it aside. A nice visual representation of the escalation of Kara being, like. Done with these creeps. (Creeps is an understatement but you get the idea.)

Another one from the preview pages: Kara explains to Ruthye that her super hearing won’t necessarily help her detect a lie, especially if she’s dealing with an alien species she’s not familiar with.

It not only reveals her level of competence and understanding of her super powers, it also shows that, you know. She’s a thinker. She’s smart. 

Amazing! Showing, rather than telling us, that Kara is smart! Without mentioning the science guild at all wow hey wow.

(Sorry, pointed criticism of the SG show fandom.)

Anyways.

I dig the PJs! 

And Kara catching the bullet! Not only are the poses and character acting great, it’s also a neat bit of panel composition:

We start with Ruthye’s POV, and then move to the wide shot of the room. The panel where Kara actually catches the bullet is down and to the side of the wide shot panel--we move our eyes the way her body/arm would have to move to intercept the bullet. Physicality in static, 2D images!

Also, like. It’s a very tense moment, life-or-death, but. Ruthye’s wide-eyed surprise at the bullet in Kara’s hand? Kind of adorable. 

I was pretty much prepared for the page of Kara shielding Ruthye from the gunfire to be the highlight--it was one of the first pages King shared and I was like, ‘yeah, YEAH.’ But, shockingly? The TRUE highlight of the issue?

Where do I BEGIN?!?!

EVERYTHING. About this moment. Is lovely.

From Kara holding Ruthye above the bench to explaining the concept of a piggyback ride, to telling her:

“I’m going to hold my hands here, and these hands can turn coal into diamonds, so they’re not going to let go. I’m going to keep you safe.”

HNNNNNNNNNNNG.

Ruthye’s narration--about how Kara had avoided flying as she was concerned it would freak Ruthye out--just adds a whole additional layer of YES, GOOD, YES, and her line on that splash page is great: “You see, all that time, she was worried about me.”

HNNNNNNNNNNNG. AGAIN.

To say nothing of the STELLAR ARTWORK.

And SPEAKING of that stellar artwork, Evely and Lopes continue to knock it out of the park. Each issue is distinct and beautifully crafted, a true joy to look at.

Before I jump into more of the art, a few final notes of character stuff in general.

Ruthye is the one most affected by the experience in Maypole, as she can’t comprehend how a society of people that look so nice and gentle and peaceful could have been party to such a horrible act.

One of the big criticisms of the book thus far is that Supergirl is not the main character, and I guess I can agree with that observation. Typically, in Western media, the main character is the one who goes through the most change in the story. 

And, yeah. That’s Ruthye.

As I was reading the end, where Ruthye sits on the curb and Kara hugs her, I was imagining how the scene would’ve played, had King stuck with the original idea for the series: Kara as the one learning to be tough/experiencing all of this for the first time, and while I think that could certainly work...

I continue to appreciate that King literally flipped the script; that Kara, especially in this issue, is like, ‘I’ve seen this, I know this,’ as opposed to being the one going through a loss of innocence.

*Marge Simpson voice* I just think it’s neat!

Because Kara’s been a teen in DC comics for so long--ever since she was reintroduced to the main DCU continuity, actually--so this is all brand new territory, here. Having an older Kara who’s SEEN SOME STUFF.

(Alsoooooo, since Bendis made the destruction of Krypton not just inaction and climate disaster, but rather, genocide, and the subtext of a Kryptonian diaspora text, the waitress’ derogatory comment regarding the the destruction of Kryton, as well as Kara picking up the bad vibes the entire time, suggests not just a broad commentary on discrimination in all its forms, but specifically allegorical anti-Semitism. The purple aliens being forced out of their homes and into substandard living conditions, then the blue aliens--their neighbors and once-fellow residents--essentially allowing the space pirates to kill them, making them literal scapegoats, Kara discovering the remains of the purple aliens, and Ruthye’s horror at the ‘banality of evil’...yes. A case could be made, I think.) 

(Which would probably require a post unto itself and a lot more in-depth discussion, nuance, and cited sources.)

(Should mention that King has brought up that both he and Orlando--the other Supergirl writer he talked to--are Jewish, and for him personally, that shaped his views on Kara’s origin story.)

I guess my point is that this issue is perhaps not as out-of-left-field as some might think, and just because there isn’t as obvious an arc for Kara, doesn’t mean there isn’t some sharp character work at play. 

(I could be WAY OFF, of course, and I’m not suggesting it’s a clear 1:1 comparison. I’d actually really love to hear King talk about this issue in particular.)

Anyways.

Here’s the final page, which I think works, because as I mentioned before, there is no easy answer/quick wrap-up to the story of Maypole:

THE ART:

I mean. How many times can I just shout ‘ART! AAAARRRRRRRRRRRTTTT!’ before it gets old?

I dunno, but I guess we’re gonna FIND OUT.

There are some panels in this issue that I just. Like ‘em! From a purely artistic standpoint! Because they’re so good!

Like, I just really love the way Kara is drawn in that top panel. Her troubled, confused expression, the colors of the fading light, the HAIR. 

Evely draws the best hair. I know I’ve said this before. I don’t care. I will continue to say it, because it continues to be true.

The issue I find myself running up against when I make these posts is that I really don’t want to post whole pages, as that’s generally frowned upon (re: pirating etc.) but with something like this, you just can’t appreciate it in panel-by-panel snippets.

(Guided View on digital reading platforms is a BANE and a POX I say!)

Anyways.

LOVE the implied movement of the cape settling as Kara speeds in and stops. 

And, obviously, Kara flicking the bullet away is just. A+. 

And the EYES, man. LOPES’ COLORS ON THE EYES???!?! BEAUTIFUL.

Also, should note the lettering! The more rounded letters for the ‘WOOSH’ of Kara’s speed (and, earlier, the super breath) work nicely, and contrast with the angular, violent BLAMS of the gunshots. 

And, I gotta say, the editor is doing a really great job of not cluttering up the artwork with all the caption boxes. Which is no small task.

(I assume the editor is placing them, as editors usually handle word balloon/caption box placement, but I suppose it could be Evely? Sometimes the artist handles it. Either way, whoever’s taking care of all the text, EXCELLENT WORK! BRAVO!)

Okay I think that’s everything.

Ah, nope, wait.

MISC.

Just a funny observation, more than anything else: Superman: Red and Blue dropped this week, and King had a story in there, “The Special” (which was very good, btw.) Both Lois and the waitress swear a lot so I’m beginning to think that this is just how King writes dialogue for any adult character who isn’t Clark. XD

This is absolutely a personal preference but when Kara was like, “And my name IS Supergirl,” I was like nooooo. I know King is trying to simplify all of the conflicting origin stories and lore but I LIKE KARA DANVERS, SIR. XD

It’s almost assuredly a cash-grab/an attempt for DC to get all the money it can out of a book they don’t have much confidence in, but I like the cardstock covers! Very classy, much Strange Adventures.

(OH my gosh, can you imagine that issue 1 cover with spot gloss???? Basically the only way you could possibly improve on it.) 

Okay NOW I’m done. For real. XD NEXT TIME: Kara and Ruthye go after Krem and the Brigands!

[shirtlesssammy]

7x07: The Mentalists

Then:

Dean’s drinking professionally this season

Now:

At a seance, a couple inquire about their Uncle Danny. The woman is interested in knowing if he’s happy and with the family dog. 

The man wants to know where some important papers are located. The psychic seems in control at first, but when the lights flicker and the flames in the fireplace grow, she looks surprised. The planchette moves ALL on its own and the air gets frosty. Then the planchette impales itself in the psychic’s neck. 

Dean’s all alone and driving a crappy, stolen car after his bust up with his brother and the Leviathan’s making the Impala a wanted vehicle. He learns of deaths in Lily Dale, the most psychic town in America, and hits the road. 

At the crime scene, he finds all the tricks the psychic employed, and then heads to Good Graces Cafe.

It’s not his type of place, but he hears his brother’s voice. Sam’s in town too to investigate. Dean jumps right into his everything’s good and let’s work the case spiel, but Sam is not happy. 

Dean gives up the facade and tells Sam they might as well work together to get the case over with. A woman walks in and recognizes them. They convince her that they’re not the Winchesters, and then her dining partner comes up and recognizes them as FBI. They both express their shock at the deaths. The man introduces himself as a spoon bender. 

The brothers start looking at the victims. Dean notes that they both had the same necklace, possibly a cursed object. 

They head to interview Melanie, the granddaughter to one of the victims. They ask about the necklace, and she tells them all her things went to the emporium. They ask to see the necklace. 

And then they take it under the FBI pretense. The shop owner says it’s the Orb of Thesulah. Dean wonders what that is. Sam points out that it’s a fake --and a town of fakes. Shocking. 

That night, the man from the cafe pulls out his utensils to practice his craft. Suddenly they all stand on end and he gets whisked above them, only to fall to his death. 

The brothers check out the crime scene and learn the man had a vision of his own death. Dean then gets a call from Melanie, and they head to her house to talk. She tells them that her grandmother left her a voicemail message of her own coming death. When she mentions that the air got cold, the brothers tell her they’re dealing with a ghost. 

She does not believe them. 

They tell her their story. She needs a drink (and so does Dean.) 

Sam and Dean realize how difficult their situation is --fake and probably real psychics, ghosts, and a whole lot of confusion. They split up to canvas the town. 

Camille Thibodeaux, a friend of Melanie's, has a death vision. She calls Melanie, and her friend brings Dean. 

Camille tells him about her death vision. Dean cannily surveys the room and spots a security camera. Cut to later, where they watch her get attacked by an actual G-G-G-GHOST on the camera footage. Melanie remembers seeing a picture of the ghost in the museum. 

At the museum, the tour guide spins a little backstory towards us. Hooking into the “brothers rift” theme of Season 7, we hear about sibling fights in the psychic gallery PLUS one success story of two brothers who got along famously. “Of course, that was just a stage name. They weren't actually brothers. That was a cover for their, um... alternative lifestyle.” Cut to a closeup of Dean.

They spot the Fox sisters’ portrait. One of the sisters (the ghost) was known for her death prophecies and telekinesis. The older sister, the museum guide reports, “didn't have her sister's charisma, but she looked after Kate. Sometimes, one's true gift is taking care of others.” Sometimes I watch these thesis statements on Dean and shriek at such a high pitch that I break every pane of glass in the gas station. Sam heads off to dig up some Fox sister skeletons, but the tour guide grabs Dean. “Do you know an Eleanor or an Ellen?”

“She seems quite concerned about you. She wants to tell you – pardon me – if you don't tell someone how bad it really is, she'll kick your ass from beyond. You have to trust someone again eventually.” ANYWAY. The tour guide fucks off and leaves both Dean AND myself shattered into a million pieces. 

Dean storms out moments later and demands that Sam treat him with a modicum of courtesy. Sam entrenches in his anger. When Dean defends his choice to kill Amy, he then also dredges up Sam’s best pal, Hallucifer as reason number one to coddle Sam.

Later at the cemetery, Dean stands watch while Sam digs up a grave. They wonder why the ghost is warning all the psychics before killing them. The ghost zooms up just as they’re about to salt and burn the body. She seems relatively stable for a murderous ghost and pleads with them to listen to her. WHY won’t anybody listen to her? GIRLFRIEND, I feel you.

Sam and Dean torch her and she flames out dramatically. Camille and Melanie celebrate the good news: the ghost is, uh, dead. Re-dead-ified? Back at Camille’s place, they pack a quick bag. The death omens start to spiral around poor Camille. The older Fox sister arrives as a desperate Melanie calls the Winchesters for help. Melanie ineffectually tosses an empty salt container at the spirit before watching her friend get killed before her eyes. UUUUGH.

Later, a grieving Melanie shoos the Winchesters out of her home, telling them that Margaret (the ghost) enjoyed killing her friend. That morning, they dig up Margaret’s grave. “I feel naked doing this in daylight,” Dean observes. Oh, sunshine. From the shadowed forest, something lurks. Unfortunately, nothing lurks in the actual grave. Margaret’s coffin lies empty. Later, Dean notices a flyer for an upcoming psychic festival. All the headliners featured in the poster are now all dead. Dean runs this theory by Melanie, who realizes that she’s the next logical successor to the Lilydale psychic throne.

Sam heads back to the thrift shop to pursue new necromancer leads while Dean tries to ghost proof Melanie. He surrounds her in a great big salt circle. (SALT HULA HOOP, I whisper in Dean’s ear.)

Sam bursts into the suspected necromancer’s house only to find a lamaze class. He and Dean realize that the pawn shop owner is the necromancer, trying to feed them false leads. This is all very useful, but it doesn’t help Melanie. Margaret shows up at the house ready to REDRUM. 

Breaking into the pawn shop owner’s house, Sam finds a spooky altar complete with a skull. The necromancer levels a gun at Sam. 

The ghost appears, blowing out Melanie’s windows. RUDE! They fight while the necromancer monologues over them, telling Sam that he’s a real psychic. He just doesn’t get top billing because he’s not that pretty or charismatic. 

Sam grows weary of the villain-splaining and shoots the necromancer. He then heads into the dude’s bedroom where he finds Margaret’s bones...in his bed. Welp. Good night, everybody!

After Sam torches the bones and saves Melanie, Dean gets the full recap at the psychic diner. 

For Dean and Flowers Science:

Sam bows out of the conversation when Melanie arrives. Dean desperately tries to minimize his feats of heroism. She thanks him anyway and they both circle around the mutual-attraction-imcompatible-lifestyles hole. Honestly, I am so firmly entrenched in the Cas endgame but WHY don’t I read more of Dean/Melanie in fics? She’s a cutie! And then we can have Shipper!Melanie too.

Dean leaves the diner to find that Sam’s moved his duffel to Dean’s car. Sam tells Dean that he understands why he killed Amy now. He ALSO tries to get Dean to admit that he’s swirling around the black hole of drinky drinky despair. Dean tells Sam that he killed Amy out of instinct - he didn’t trust her. “Ever since Cas, I’ve had a hard time trusting anybody.” GUH. Dagger to the heart.

They trundle off into the next episode. (GUYS, this was written by THE Acker and Blacker duo! I had no idea!)

Look Into the Crystal Quotes:

See, there’s fake woo woo crap. And there’s real woo woo crap

This is gonna be looking like a needle in a stack of fake needles

If you affirmate me, I’m gonna punch you in the face

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[fiveisnumber1]

Hi! I love your writing and uhm I recently encountered a fic that looks a lot like yours? Maybe I'm just imagining things tho!! because I read the first chp of timeless so long ago. It's called "like a ghost", I'm sure you can find it on Tumblr, I think you should check it out yourself,, just wanted to let you know. Have a great day!

Yeah, I just went and read it and it is scarily similar which is quite concerning because I’ve put a lot of time and effort into crafting my story. I’m going to be honest, I’m shaking, my heart is racing, and I’m about to cry. This is my story beat for beat. Anyone who has read it knows this. I’ve worked really hard on timeless, I started writing this back in august, this is my happy labor of love and for this to happen...I’m just really distraught. For any of my followers here are just some plot points that are way too on the nose in my opinion (and these are direct quotes from “their” story):

“As time goes and the baby grows up, they start to notice something was odd. And then they discovered the baby's powers. Sometimes it unintentionally became invisible and they had a hard time finding it, sometimes it went through a wall, and sometimes an object went through it like there wasn't anything. They started to help their kid control it's powers, but it wasn't a simple task since they were just ordinary people.“

“A dark-haired boy was sitting in his room thoughtlessly looking from his window”

“Reginald held out his hand and you accepted it not saying anything."Tell me," he started, "what are your abilities?"You hastened but then you gave him an answer."I can become invisible, or go through walls and I can let things go through me."

“Five was walking down the hallway muttering to himself. "Idiot Klaus, why he has to poke his nose everywhere, now I-" he didn't finish because he bumped into something and fell on the floor. As you fell you lost focus and became visible again. At first, Five was confused about how it was possible to bump into something invisible, but then he noticed you lying on the floor.”

“You were regularly visiting the academy, learning how to control your powers and improve them. The only time when somebody knew about your presence was that bump accident with Five, but since then everything went well.”

"What are you doing here?" you asked. "I wanted to see you before you leave. Can we meet at Griddy's Doughnuts at 7 pm? If you know where it is," he asked shyly.”

"One plain, glazed for me," said Five. The waitress wrote the order to her notepad and left.”

“Since then you were seeing Five at Griddy's every day. The waitresses liked you and they often gave you some doughnuts for free. You talked about everything that came to your mind and you enjoyed each other's company. Five was enjoying the time you spent together. It was great having a friend that wasn't his sibling. It was so different and he liked it. But he wanted to spend more time with you and he came up with an idea.”

“It was almost seven o'clock and you were pulling the curtains when suddenly a voice came from the other end of the room."Good evening.""Jesus Christ!" you exclaimed scared. You turned around and saw Five leaning against your closet with a smirk on his face."Nah, just me," he replied nonchalantly."How did you get there?" you asked confused."I've got my ways."And then a new era of hangouts started. You were visiting each other's rooms and you spent even more time together than before”

"Yes I... I can make myself invisible, and go through walls or doors and things like that. I can also let objects go through me." you looked at Five, scared of how he would react.”

"When were you born?" "What?" you blurted. "When were you born?" he repeated his question. "Uh... October 1st, 1989 exactly at noon, why?" You were genuinely confused about why he wanted to know your birthday when he just discovered you had some superpowers. "Yeah that makes sense," he nodded muttered more to himself. "What are you talking about, Five?""I was born on the same day, the same year, and the same hour as you! And all my siblings too, and we have superpowers like you but different," he finally explained.

"Really? And I was scared that you'll freak out if I'll tell you about my abilities," you smiled. "What you can do?" you were curious. "Look," he said simply and then disappeared in a flash of blue light. You were looking at the place he disappeared in awe. Then he alerted you to his presence.”

“This was great, now you could be fully open to him and didn't have to hide your talents.”

It was too long for a direct quote but the reader plays a prank on Five’s siblings kind of in the same vein as how the reader in my story popped her head through Five’s chest to scare them

"Since all of my children most likely know about you, you will start training with them. At least it will be a new challenge for them. Training with an invisible opponent can advance their reflexes."

“Why didn't you tell us about her Five?" asked Allison. Five hastened. He didn't exactly know, he hadn't thought about it much. "I don't know," he said finally with a shrug. "Maybe because he loves her," exclaimed Klaus mockingly. "Shut your mouth," snapped Five. He suddenly felt hot and he didn't know what was that supposed to mean. Klaus laughed at his reaction.”

“After that, you were spending more time at the academy. You finally had the opportunity to meet Five's 'stupid siblings' as he liked to refer to them. You found out why Five liked Vanya and Ben the most. They were much calmer than Diego, Luther, and Allison, but you still liked them all. You met Grace, their robotic mom, and Pogo a chimpanzee who can speak to your amazement. You enjoyed being here because you could be yourself. You didn't have to hide your powers. You laughed with Klaus, spent time in the library with Five, listened to Vanya play the violin. You had deep talks with Ben, learned some tricks with knives with Diego, danced with Allison, or helped Luther with his workout. But your friendship with Five was the strongest. But time flies when you're having fun.”

“You were near the gates when Five rushed from the house, looking positively furious. You wanted to know what pissed him off so you ran after him because he was really fast in his fury. When you caught up with him you took him by the shoulder, so he can acknowledge your presence.”

"Not ready my ass..." muttered Five angrily. "Five!" you shouted at him, trying to get his attention. But he hasn't heard you. And there was another flash like before. Now it was snowing? You groaned and tried to get Five's attention once again.”

"Not now (y/n)!" He yanked his hand from your grip and disappeared in the same flash as the previous ones. "Ugh, screw you then,"

"Are you lost?" asked the woman with a worried look on her face. "No," you let out a nervous chuckle, "I live in here. With my aunt and uncle, are they in there?" You stood on your tiptoes so you can peek into the house. The woman looked even more concerned now. "Do you mean Mr. and Mrs. Harper? They moved out twelve years ago."

“You froze in shock. "What?" you blurted out in confusion. How much time passed? "What year is it?" "It's 2016..." she said.”

“You just simply couldn't be in 2016, it was 2002 minutes ago!”

“You were standing in the entrance hall for a few minutes, waiting for you to wake up from this horrible dream, but nothing happened. Any second now... "(y/n)?" you heard a shocked voice. You looked to the left and saw Grace, standing there with a duster, shocked expression on her face. "You're back," she said and put down the duster. She came to you and cupped your face in her hands. You gave up on the idea of you dreaming. This felt so real, it couldn't be just a fantasy. "Is somebody else here?" you asked. "Diego, Ben, Vanya, anybody?" "Oh," Grace sighed. "No, they all left some years ago. And Ben..." she looked sadly at you and you understood what she meant. You started shaking and you felt like there was some sort of pressure on your chest.”

“Nothing much changed, but then you looked at the fireplace and you saw a painting there. You looked up and froze once again. It was a painting of Five. You were looking up at it and then a wave of rage hit you.“

“His hand was turned palm up and he could see a tattoo on his forearm. It was the one they all got tattooed one day. The symbol of the umbrella academy. They really were his family. He felt a lump rising in his throat. He decided to go get his cart, but something caught his eye. He quickly rushed to it and he couldn't believe what he saw. It was you. You were much younger than the others. You looked like a teenager, just a few years older than he was. Your eyes were half-open, without a spark of life.”

“It was devastating seeing all of you dead. But the sight of your dead body was the worst for him. He carefully put your head down and stood up, not looking away from you. He had to find a way out. He had to prevent this from happening.”

“Since you don't have anywhere else to go, you can live there, but you will remain training and you will have a strict schedule, do you understand?"You snorted and said, "I won't be part of your silly academy.""I'm fully aware of that," he didn't look away from his papers, "Grace prepared a room for you."

[humans4vampires]

Cold Heart

Context: This story was inspired by a tumblr post from tumblr user @cozycullens. The post outlined the potential for sappy holiday content that the original story lacked. The post noted that Twilight fans had to fill in the blanks; I thought it would be fun to write out what Valentine’s Day could have looked like for Edward and Bella. The timeline of this story edits the original canon, meaning the breakup in New Moon and subsequent recoupling happens earlier, allowing the pair to be reunited in time to spend both the Christmas holiday season together and Valentine’s Day. This is before the events are set in motion for the vampire army attack in Eclipse. I’d also like to mention that this story addresses a scene that occurs later in the timeline of the novel. I’ve edited it here to give Edward and Bella a bit of private time that is free of the pressures that the later happenings of Eclipse bring to the moment. In this, I have used direct quotes from Meyer’s novel, and I do not claim to own that content in any way. As stated, this is purely for fun and to share with my fellow Twilight fans.

READ PART TWO HERE

 ______ 

The dull blue grey light of the morning filtered through my window in a haze, waking me gently from inconsequential dreams. My natural instincts to unfurl myself from my usual swaddle of blankets to reach for him felt empty and unnecessary. Rather, I found myself spread across my bed in a sweaty mess of fabric.

“Edward?” I said softly, propping myself up to take in the room. I blinked quickly and tried to brush the mess of my hair from my face, speaking his name again as a question. There was no reply.

I tried to think back to the night before; I didn’t think he had gone hunting. No, he had surely been with me when I fell asleep. A compilation of Victorian poetry was open face-down on his side of my bed. We made the trip to Seattle a few weeks ago to get the book I needed to get started on my research paper. I had chosen the topic of Tennyson and Rossetti as an ironic gesture toward him – my very own post-Victorian era angel. He was reading his favorites to me, his voice a velvet whisper when I had fallen asleep in his cool embrace.

No, I was sure he had been with me throughout the night. I ran my left palm over the bare sheet beside me and felt the lingering presence of his wintry skin. It was unusual for him to leave before I woke. It was my favorite part of each day, and his. I was wondering what had called him away as I picked up the heavy text to see where he had left off. As I turned the pages to face me, a small piece of paper fluttered into my lap. The note he had left in his elegant script explained his absence.

‘Who are wise in love, love most, say least. Happy Valentine’s Day, love.’

He quoted Tennyson, I was sure, but the poem he had left open was not the same one he referenced. Instead, the book was open to Tennyson’s ‘Crossing the Bar,’ which was certainly not a love poem. I scanned it quickly, trying to garner any meaning from it without success. My mind was racing elsewhere, my heart beating quickly with exultant dread. So he had gone to prepare whatever exorbitant Valentine’s Day surprise he had planned. As fate would have it, this holiday had arrived on a school day and would provide a public audience to witness the surely over-the-top display Edward had planned for me.

Edward’s obsession with making the most of my human experiences had only intensified since reaching our compromise for Carlisle to turn me after my impending high school graduation. Christmas had been a deluge of cheer and merriment thanks to Alice, who was overcompensating for lost time with me – while also, just being Alice. I was still convinced it hadn’t snowed quite as much as she’d wanted and she had somehow managed a snow machine to fill in my yard for Christmas morning. Alice had laughed off my assumptions as absurd, but Charlie was still trying to work out how our yard had had a good three feet more snow than the rest of our neighborhood.

The halls had certainly been decked in Cullen home, too. It had to be visible from space from the sheer amount of Christmas lights neatly hung on every eave and railing. For the entire month of December, the house smelled of fresh gingerbread and pine. Every surface had been transformed with fresh garlands and shiny decorations. The fireplace in the grand living room was constantly crackling a gentle fire, flickering its light against the enormous tree trimmed with ornaments gathered over the many decades of Christmases past. And the gifts – oh – I couldn’t even bring myself to continue the thought.

I was brought back to reality, the sweet valentine in my shaking hand. I took a staggered breath and made a passing glance at the clock as I rushed to the bathroom. I tried not to think about the day ahead as I dressed. Charlie had already left for the station and the rest of my morning at home seemed to move in a blur of anxiety. I stumbled out the door in a black turtleneck, jeans, bean boots, and my mustard yellow coat. I thought my very standard attire might signal Edward to my disinterest in any outlandish public displays of affection. I drove slowly to Forks High School through the rain muddled snow. My truck dredged through the sludge into the parking spot beside the familiar silver Volvo.

The parking lot was already full and busy with the usual Friday commotion. I looked out my rearview mirror to take in the pops of pink and red from the Valentine’s baubles that everyone seemed to be toting. I had always found the holiday rather arbitrary – a well-marketed event to boost the sales of chocolates and flowers. Until my mother had found Phil, Valentine’s Day was usually spent in front of the television with a pint of ice cream, two spoons, and a chick-flick. I was trying to remember the last Valentine’s Day movie my mom and I had watched together when a quick knock on my driver’s side window snapped my eyes from my rearview.

The morning’s panic melted from my bones as I took him in. Edward was standing there, my favorite crooked smile on his lips, a single and perfect red rose held up in his hand.

“Good morning,” he murmured as I opened my door and got to my feet to stand in front of him. “Did you get my Valentine?”

“Mmm,” I hummed. “Tennyson?”

He nodded, a smirk crossing his expression. “Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”

I felt a blush beginning to mark my cheeks and looked down at my feet as he handed me my rose. He moved to rest that now empty hand above my head on the frame of my truck, leaning to tighten the space between us. His free hand swept down my jaw, his gentle fingers stopping below my chin to tilt my head up. He bent down to press his lips to mine, his cool breath sending my delicate humanity into a tailspin. The kiss was, as expected, refined… at first. Unexpectedly, he draped an arm around my body to pull me closer to his frame. He lifted me effortlessly to continue the kiss as my free hand found its way around the base of his neck and into his bronze hair.

When his response became rigid and he began to return my feet to their reluctant ground, I realized I had forgotten to breathe. My legs trembled against the sudden gravity and he steadied me as I took in sharp breaths. He chuckled lightly and shook his head.

“What am I going to do with you?” he teased.

“With any hope, that, again.”

He took a slow step back and smirked, “I do enjoy sweeping you off your feet.”

My head was still spinning as I grabbed my bag from the truck and shut the door behind me. Edward took my right hand as we walked to class, my single rose in the left.

The rest of the day continued on and I was a happy bystander to the couples declaring their love for one another throughout the day. It seemed each period passed with another sudden delivery of roses, large teddy bears, or chocolates. Joyce Lowell in Government received a loud serenade from half of the school’s marching band, her boyfriend, Aaron, the faux-conductor. Each time the door to the classroom opened my heart skipped a beat with the fresh fear that Edward might have some embarrassing demonstration planned. I wasn’t eager to hurt his feelings and so I kept the question from him all day. I had cracked by fifth period when he finally asked, “Why is your heart is thrumming like a hummingbird’s?”

“I’m worried that you have a grand romantic gesture planned,” I took a sharp breath, anxious for his response. My heart rate only increased when he shrugged and walked ahead of me into the classroom.

I was at a loss for words when he chuckled. “Am I not allowed a grand gesture on Valentine’s Day?” Panic rushed through me before he continued in a more serious tone, “Do you honestly believe that my romantic displays are akin to those of someone like Mike Newton?”

His eyes glanced down at the trinkets gathered in my arms. I thought this tradition had been left in elementary school, but it seemed my friends still enjoyed giving each other Valentine’s treats. Jessica and Angela both had given me small paper crafts and chocolates to mark the occasion. Even Tyler and Eric participated, handing out boxes of tiny heart candies.

The only class Edward could not manage to work out to have with me our senior year was math – considering my being in a far lower level than was excusable for him to fail into. This, of course, was the only class I had exclusively with Mike. I had found it funny that it bothered Edward in the slightest; until today, when Mike seized the opportunity to give me a large stuffed bear, a rather huge box of chocolates, and a clearly handmade valentine. All platonically, Mike had assured me, as he was still on-and-off with Jessica and I was still very much Edward’s – only Edward’s.

I shook my head as I fumbled to stack all of my favors onto a pile on my desk, keeping the rose in my hand to tap lightly on the tip of Edward’s nose.

He tilted his brow at my playful gesture. “You have nothing to worry about. I simply have arranged for us to have a night alone. My family have their own Valentine’s Day traditions and we’ll have the house to ourselves. For this one night could we try to forget everything besides just you and me?” he pleaded, unleashing the full force of his eyes on me. “It seems like I can never get enough time like that. I need to be with you. Just you.”

“No,” I shook my head again. “Just you is good.”

The hitch in my tone caught his attention, but he didn’t have a chance to respond. Mr. Banner began lecturing on optics and light. I couldn’t focus on Physics; I could only hear Edward’s methodic voice repeating ‘I need to be with you’ again and again. Each passing thought brought a new blush to my cheeks that I tried to hide behind a curtain of my hair. I was sure he could hear my fluttering heart, but I couldn’t focus on that either. I was entirely clouded with thoughts of him. I stared at his strong hands, folded together in front of him on the table. How I imagined them on my body a million times, his cold fingertips grazing over my bare skin in the places he refused to wander. It was all I could think of the rest of the day.

When I was back in my room, a different blur of anxiety plagued me than when I had left it in the morning. Edward and I went our separate ways after school. He had filled me in on how exactly he had planned to handle the issue of Charlie. My father was still learning to trust me again and another night out of the house was certainly going to come under some heavy interrogation. I was technically still grounded even though Edward had been following Charlie’s very strict rules to a perfect degree. I was sure that Charlie hadn’t missed the fact that it was Valentine’s Day and I could only imagine the things he would think Edward and I would be doing if left alone. I was pressing the subject when Edward said, “Esme spoke with Charlie today and let him know that Carlisle is taking my brothers and I on a long-promised camping trip. You’ll be having a girls’ night with Esme, Alice, and Rosalie, as Charlie knows it. He’s been hoping you’d be spending more time with Alice soon.”

I felt a twinge of guilt for all the lying that had to be done to protect Charlie. This lie was much less to protect him from the perils of life threatening vampire attacks and much more about protecting him from the thought of his teenage daughter being alone with her boyfriend on Valentine’s Day. The guilt subsided when I remembered that I would get to be alone with Edward.

I stood in my room, hands steadying me on my dresser, knees shaking from the anticipation. The mix of emotions kept wracking me in waves. Edward had made it very clear; we could not be together physically until I was changed. My safety, was not something he was willing to jeopardize to satisfy any desire – which, to his credit, was entirely the reason I was alive. It was difficult to argue with Edward on that fact, but it was so incredibly difficult to argue with my own desires, still. And yet, I felt foolish all the same. I was so intensely human. Though he’d told me many times that he felt the same way for me, I knew he couldn’t possibly lust for me the way I did for him. I was able to reason that point logically, but part of me questioned it in this moment. Had he changed his mind?

I knew what was waiting for me at the Cullens’. It hadn’t been much more than a month since the last time I had genuinely spent the night there for a ‘girls’ night.’ Edward didn’t want me anywhere near Jacob and so Edward had been avoiding distant hunting trips to keep a close watch on me. Alice was all too eager to babysit to allow Edward a satiating hunt; it left me free to be played with as if I were her life-sized doll. That wasn’t what I was fixated on now. The image of the intricate wrought-iron bed burned in my mind. The thought of Edward and I wrapped tenderly in its golden threads made me quiver again, a sigh escaping my lips.

A knock at the front door made my heart stutter. I heard Charlie gather himself up off the couch to get the door. I stopped listening and only heard the light murmur of greetings as I rushed to find something appropriate to wear. What kind of outfit were you supposed to put together to seduce your vampire boyfriend? I was clashing hangers together across the pole, a bit frantic, when I heard her behind me.

Alice shook her head. “You look like you need to sit down. Let me handle this,” she said.

I decided it was better not to argue with her. I was, in all fairness, a mess, and there was only so much harm she could do with my own wardrobe to work with. She confidently pulled my small duffle from the top shelf of my closet and began packing things without truly looking at them. She had already seen what she would need.

I was sitting in my rocking chair when she looked back to me, still absently packing my bag. She looked like she was waiting for me to say something, but I swallowed uncomfortably rather than working up the nerve to talk.

She cast me a sympathetic smile as she removed something from my closet and tossed it toward me. “Try this,” she said.

I stood to change into the hyacinth blue sweater Alice had given it to me as a Christmas gift. Unlike many of the other fashion pieces Alice had tried to dress me in, I did like it. It was soft, probably a thin cashmere, with a plunging V neckline. It fit my frame tightly and was flattering in a way that I couldn’t justify being embarrassed by. She moved to my dresser then, digging through the very bottom drawer to pull out a short skirt she had also gifted me that I was not particularly fond of. Before I could argue, she slung it onto the bed.

“Work with me here, Bella,” she said sternly.

I pulled on the black skirt without a fight. Alice finished off my outfit with a pair of expensive black leather boots.

“And those were a gift from Esme, before you think of disputing them,” she lectured.

“No, I like them. At least they’re covering more of my skin,” I said, zipping them up.

Alice peaked her eyebrows, a smirk budding on her face as she closed my bag. I felt the rush of blood on my complexion again. “Alice – “

“Come on, let’s go before you lose it,” she said quickly, pulling my hand and leading me out of my room and down the stairs.

Charlie didn’t bother looking away from the television as we called a quick goodbye to him. Alice carried me through the slush in a movement so brief that I had no time to process it, placing me in the passenger seat of her small yellow Porsche. Forks blurred outside the windows and in the darkness of the car, it was easier for me to talk about what I was getting myself into.

“Does he…” I asked in her direction, not finishing the thought.

“I don’t think I should really say anything, Bella.” She answered, plainly.

“Since when do you keep things to yourself, Alice?”

She chuckled quietly, “Whatever I say now is not going to help. I’m just dropping you off. You’re not the only one with Valentine’s Day plans, you know.”

“That’s not fair,” I complained. “He’s seen whatever you’ve seen. He’s not going into this blind like I am.”

“Oh, yes he is,” she said proudly. “I’ve been careful to stay away from him today – and it’s not quite clear what’s going to happen. You’ve only been growing bolder in the last few hours.”

Bolder? I certainly didn’t feel it. In the light of the dashboard, I saw Alice turn to me as the car began to slow. We were already in the driveway. When the car stopped, I felt a quick breeze from the opening and closing of her door. She had slung my bag over her shoulder quickly before arriving at my door to help me to the porch steps. I doubted even Alice thought I was that uncoordinated to walk a few feet without falling; she was carrying me everywhere to keep the boots safe, I thought. She set me down on the porch and walked ahead of me into the house. I followed her in, confused.

“I thought you said you were just dropping me off?”

                  We were in the living room when she said, “I am. Edward isn’t here yet. He had an errand to run. He’ll be here soon and we’ll be gone – don’t worry.”

                  A fresh blush met my cheeks as I locked eyes with the another set in the room. Rosalie was perched on the edge of the sofa, bent over the coffee table arranging what looked like a large photo album. She had small papers and photos scattered all over the table, some in small piles on the floor beside her. She gazed up at me with the come-to-be-expected level of enthusiasm I generally received, but there was a hint of something else in her expression. It caught me by surprise and left me gawking at her silently. Rosalie’s appearance always struck me, but tonight she was especially beautiful. Her tight satin dress was just the perfect shade of red to compliment her equally satin skin, her golden hair a perfect, elegant twist, and her long bare legs crossed in front of her were only further elongated by her strappy, red stilettos. Alice had done her best with me, but I felt myself self-consciously tug at the hem of my skirt.

                  That inexplicable look that I had caught in Rosalie’s expression seemed to grow stronger as she gauged my assessment of her. A small smile crossed her lips as she looked back to what she was working on and I looked to Alice, who was dancing back down the stairs now. I hadn’t noticed her departure, but she was already redressed in an ensemble that mirrored the glamour of Rosalie’s. Alice bent one leg up behind her, fastening the tiny buckle on the strap of her heel, careful not to bend and crease the fabric on her burgundy slip-dress.

“Alright, Rose. Let’s not keep them waiting any longer.” Alice rolled her eyes at me quickly before Rosalie noticed. Alice had her keys in her tiny hands as she walked my direction to head for the door.

“I will see you tomorrow,” she said with a coy grin.

Rosalie was out the door faster than I could follow. I turned to Alice as she moved at a more mortal pace. “Where are you going?” I asked.

Alice waved as she replied, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Bella!” The door was shut behind her then. I heard the muffled roar of her Porsche as she and Rosalie left me behind. I assumed that I was completely alone then. I was curious to know where they were going, but my mind was busy calculating other worries. I stood in the Cullens’ living room, taking in the sheer silence. The only sound was coming from the low burning fire still crackling dimly in the fireplace. I unlocked my tense limbs to move toward the heat. I stopped briefly to survey Rosalie’s project and flipped through a couple of pages on the bound album.

Were these all valentines? I picked up a few loose papers from the table and skimmed them quickly. It seemed that Rosalie had been collecting notes from her admirers for decades, compiling the highlights in an album with cards dating back to 1929. Some of the earlier letters were from when she was still human, if I wasn’t mistaken. A few authors were brave enough to sign their names, but most were anonymous confessions. I spent more time snooping through Rosalie’s valentines than I should have, but part of me thought that she must have wanted me to see them. Why else would she have left them all here?

I focused myself again and took a seat on the edge of the hearth.

                  I was glad I had a moment to gather myself and took the opportunity to take a few deep, but unsteady, breaths. Why was I so unnerved? I closed my eyes and tried to summon my buried fantasies of Edward. There I let myself imagine him, pulling me tightly to his chest, letting his lips roam my jaw, my neck, and the dips of my collarbones. What would he look like bare? I’d only been able to guess the parts of him that were always just beyond my reach. I let those thoughts in too, imagining my own fingers tracing patterns around the curves of his muscles. To bring him close to me, skin to skin – the thought alone painted my face in a soft blush. I bit my lip, letting go a full breath I had been holding. I opened my eyes then and immediately found him.

He was standing across the room from me, a statue of indescribable, sculpted beauty, leaning on the wall casually. He had a peaceful expression resting in his features, but his bright golden eyes were burning with something I couldn’t explain. My favorite crooked smile slowly crossed his lips as his eyes seemed to search my body. I blushed more deeply, a decision forming more firmly in my mind.

I loved him, purely, and every ounce of my body and soul ached to be his. It was exactly the reason I had asked him to change me himself. I wanted his venom to alter me permanently, his lips on my skin to be the last human sensation I’d ever feel. I wanted to be tangibly his, forever; for Edward to lay claim to me in an absolute and eternal way. If I was his, then he was mine. This desire burned in me more brightly in this moment than it ever had. But there were other human sensations I ached for now. And suddenly, I was sure I was not willing to sacrifice them.

Edward moved slowly across the room to perch in front of me. The height of the hearth and his tall body in a crouch before me, leveled us to be equally face-to-face. As he bent, he balanced a small, thin velvet box on my knees. I made no move to open it, so he chuckled lightly and opened it to reveal a small glittering heart-shaped charm. Even in the dim firelight, the brilliant crystal’s intricate cuts glinted countless sparkling rays of color. It was hung on a silver chain as thin as thread.

He was the first to break the silence.

“It was my mother’s.” He shrugged deprecatingly. “I inherited quite a few baubles like this. I’ve given some to Esme, Alice, and Rosalie throughout the years. So, clearly, this is not a big deal in any way.” I could feel his eyes on me, but I continued to stare down, not quite ready to speak. “A hand-me-down,” he reminded me sternly. “You said that was allowable.”

“I guess I did say that,” I said in a whisper.

He chuckled at my reluctance. “I thought it was a good representation,” he continued. “It’s hard and cold.” He laughed. “And it throws rainbows in the sunlight.”

“You forgot the most important similarity,” I murmured. “It’s beautiful.”

“My heart is just as silent,” he mused. “And it, too, is yours.”

I offered the box to him and moved to gather my hair away from my neck, turning to the fire. As he moved to clasp the chain around my neck, I said, “Thank you for both.”

His fingers seemed to linger on the skin of my throat as I turned back to face him. Our lips were only inches apart now. I moved my hands to wrap them around his neck.

“No, thank you. It’s a relief to have you accept a gift so easily. Good practice for you, too.” He grinned, flashing his teeth.                   His eyes wandered down to take pride in his accepted gift. I was grateful for the plunging neckline of my sweater when his gaze lingered where the crystal charm hung delicately above my chest. I made a mental note to thank Alice later and took a steadying breath. I began to feel cautiously optimistic. Perhaps getting what I wanted would not be as difficult as I’d expected it to be.

No, of course it was going to be just exactly that difficult. I cleared my throat lightly and braced myself. “Can we discuss something?” I asked. “I’d appreciate it if you could begin by being open-minded.”

He hesitated for a moment and returned his eyes to mine. “I’ll give it my best effort,” he agreed, cautious now. He unwrapped my arms from around his neck as he moved to put space between us.

“I’m not breaking any rules here,” I promised. “This is strictly about you and me.”

“Listen to your heart fly,” he murmured. “It’s fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings,” he repeated the analogy he had applied to me earlier in the day. “Are you all right?”

“I’m great,” I said formally. I wondered why I was being so formal.

“Please go on then,” he encouraged.

“Well, I guess, first, I wanted to talk to you about that whole ridiculous marriage condition.”

“It’s only ridiculous to you. What about it?” He was backing further away from me now.

I leaned closer to him, placing my hands on his knees to keep him near me. “I was wondering… is that open to negotiation?”

Edward frowned, serious now. “I’ve already made the largest concession by far and away – I’ve agreed to take your life against my better judgment. And that ought to entitle me to a few compromises on your part.”

“No.” I shook my head, focusing on keeping my face composed. “That part’s a done deal. We’re not discussing that now. I want to hammer out some other details.”

He looked at me suspiciously. “Which details do you mean exactly?”

I hesitated. “Let’s clarify your prerequisites first – matrimony?” I made it sound like a dirty word.

“Yes.” He smiled a wide smile. “To start with.”

The shock spoiled my carefully composed expression. “There’s more?”

“Well,” he said, his face calculating. “If you’re my wife, then what’s mine is yours… So there would be no issue with Dartmouth tuition.”

“Anything else? While you’re already being absurd?”

“Time. I’m finding it quite ephemeral… like it’s slipping through my fingers,” as he spoke, he rose his finger tips to sweep a gentle line over my exposed collarbones.

I shook my head, trying to forget his distracting touch. “No. No time. That’s a deal breaker.”

He sighed longingly. “Just a year or two?”

I refused to give into his burning amber eyes. “What else?”

“That’s it. Unless you’d like to talk cars…”

He grinned widely when I grimaced, then took my hand and began playing with my fingers. “I didn’t realize there was anything else you wanted besides being transformed into a monster yourself. I’m extremely curious.” His voice was low and soft. The slight edge would have been hard to detect if I hadn’t known it so well.

I paused, staring at his hand on mine. I still didn’t know how to begin. I felt his eyes watching me and I was afraid to look up. The blood began to burn in my face.

His cool hand cupped my cheek. “You’re blushing?” he asked in surprise. I kept my eyes down. “Please, Bella, the suspense is painful.”

I bit my lip.

“Bella.” His tone reproached me now, reminding me that it was hard for him when I kept my thoughts to myself.

“Edward,” I said, nervous, staring at a freckle on my wrist. “There’s something that I want to do before I’m not human anymore.”

He waited for me to continue. I didn’t. My face was hot.

“Whatever you want,” he encouraged, anxious and completely clueless.

“Do you promise?” I muttered, knowing my attempt to trap him with his words was not going to work. But he was unable to resist my coaxing.

“Yes,” he said. I looked up through my lashes to see that his eyes were earnest and confused. “Tell me what you want, and you can have it.”

I couldn’t believe how awkward and idiotic I felt. I was too innocent. I didn’t have the faintest idea how to be seductive. I would just have to settle for flushed and self-conscious.

“You,” I mumbled almost incoherently.

“I’m yours.” He smiled, still oblivious, trying to hold my gaze as I looked away again.

I took a deep breath and leaned closer to him, pressing my lips to his. He kissed me back, bewildered but willing, his lips gentle against mine. I began to slide my hands from his knees, up his thighs and slowly toward his waist. I hadn’t gotten very far when I all but heard the click in his head as he put together my words and my actions, his lips freezing in place.

He pushed me away at once, his face heavily disapproving.

“Be reasonable, Bella.”

“Edward, I –. “ He had cut me off, placing a single finger over my lips to quiet me.

“No.” His face was hard.

I was surprised by my reaction to his dismissal. I raised my hand to swat at his. My action didn’t move him, of course, but he moved his hand from my mouth in response. “You are not going to shush me,” I said sternly. “We’re here discussing terms of an eternity together – marriage and other promises – but sex?” I said the word louder than the rest. “Edward, why can’t we talk about sex?”

He was frozen there, hands at his side, eyes locked on mine. I felt the charge of adrenaline passing quicker than it had come. We sat there for a moment in silence with only my quick breathing and rapid pulse as audio. I shifted my gaze down as the rush subsided. It took me a minute to recognize why I was staring at my freckle again, the blush returning – why my stomach felt uneasy, why there was too much moisture in my eyes, why I suddenly wanted to run from the room.

Rejection washed through me, instinctive and strong.

I knew it was irrational. He’d been very clear on other occasions that my safety was the only factor. Yet I’d never made myself quite so vulnerable before. It was hard to beg for the mercy of an angel.

Edward moved then, bringing his hand up to my chin to pull my face up until I had to look at him again. He scrutinized my face for a long moment while I tried unsuccessfully to twist away from his gaze. His brow furrowed, and his expression became horrified as I continued to fight off the onslaught of water in my eyes.

His other hand rushed to my cheek, his thumb stroking there reassuringly. “You know why I have to say no,” he murmured. “You know that I want you, too.”

“Do you?” I whispered, my voice full of accusation and doubt.

He held my face at my jaw now, his fingers on my neck at the base of my hair. “Of course I do, you beautiful, oversensitive girl.” He laughed once, and then his voice was bleak. “Doesn’t everyone? I feel like there’s a line behind me, jockeying for position, waiting for me to make a big enough mistake… You’re too desirable for your own good.”

It seemed like he wanted to press on, anxiety flooding him as it had me throughout the day. I took a breath.

“Tell me if I have anything wrong,” I tried to sound detached. “Your demands are marriage, college, more time, and a faster car.”

“Only the first is a demand,” he said taking a breath. “The others are merely requests.”

“And my lone, solitary demand is – “

“Demand?” he interrupted, on edge again.

“Yes, demand.” I said confidently, looping my fingers around his wrists and tugging until he dropped them. I was not going to concede, now that I knew he wanted this as badly as I did. I would have to be brave for the both of us. I kept my gaze locked on his, placing a hand on his chest to request more space between us.

Edward immediately responded, backing up slightly and resting on his knees with room in front of him. Without breaking the contact we had, I slid down so that we were both on our knees. I brought both hands to the collar of his shirt and began to unbutton slowly, never moving my eyes from his.

“Please,” I begged. “There is nothing I want more than you.”

He took a deep breath. I was surprised that it sounded a little unsteady.

“I could kill you,” he whispered.

I had the last button undone then and slid the fabric from his shoulders to the floor. I was gliding my hands down his chest and placing my lips over his heart when I murmured against his skin. “I don’t think you could.”

As I kissed him there, a low sound escaped his lips. A moan? My body ached in a way it never had. I felt electrified. My heart jolted, words tumbling out of my mouth to take advantage of the sudden uncertainty in his eyes. “Please, try,” I pleaded.

His hands were wrapped around my biceps then, his head bent down to bring his lips to my ear, making me shiver. “This is unbearable. So many things I’ve wanted to give you – and this is what you demand. Do you have any idea how painful it is, refusing you when you plead with me this way?”

“Then don’t refuse,” I suggested breathlessly.

He didn’t respond. I tossed my head back to catch my breath, letting my hair fall down behind me. Edward’s hands still held my arms firmly. “Please,” I tried again.

He bent his head to my neck. “Bella…” He shook his head slowly, but it didn’t feel like denial as his face, his lips, moved back and forth across my throat. It felt more like surrender. My heart sputtered frantically when his lips finally stopped to embrace my skin. The same low sound spilled from my lips now, which seemed to hit Edward with the same electrical shock.

His grip tensed instantly and I was sure he was going to push me away again.

I was wrong.

His lips were on mine, his hands pulling me up to close the space between us. His mouth was not gentle; there was a brand-new edge of conflict and desperation in the way his lips moved. When his hands moved into my hair, I locked my arms around his neck, tightening my hold on him. To my suddenly overheated skin, his body felt colder than ever. I trembled, but it was not from the chill.

He didn’t stop kissing me. I was the one who had to break away, gasping for air. Even then his lips did not leave my skin, they just moved to my throat. So quickly that I wasn’t even sure how it happened, I was in his arms, his lips still exploring my skin, as we nearly flew through the house. Human velocity was not fast enough for him. We were in his bedroom then, still locked in each other’s arms as he fell onto his back on the bed.

The thrill of victory was a strange high; it made me feel powerful. Brave. My hands weren’t unsteady now and my fingers traced the patterns I had dreamed of a thousand times. He was too beautiful. What was the word he had used? Unbearable – that was it. His beauty was too much to bear…

I was on top of him, our lips pulled together again and moving in heated sync. Edward’s hands were exploring my body. His hands were tight around my waist, straining me closer to him. All I wanted was my skin to be bare against his – his grip made it difficult to reach to remove my sweater, but not impossible. Just as I had my stomach exposed, cold iron fetters locked around my wrists, and pulled my hands above my head, which was suddenly on a pillow.

His lips were at my ear again. “Bella,” he murmured, his voice warm and velvet. “Stop trying to take your clothes off.”

“Do you want to do that part?” I asked breathlessly.

“Not tonight,” he answered softly. His lips were slower now against my cheek and jaw, all the urgency gone.

“Edward, don’t –,” I started to argue, trying to free my hands and arching my body to mold myself more closely to him.

“I’m not saying no,” he reassured me. “I’m just saying not tonight.”

I had never felt frustration this way before. I was restless, eyes wild and questioning on his.

“I wasn’t born yesterday,” he laughed. “Out of the two of us, which do you think is more unwilling to give the other what they want? You just promised to marry me before you do any changing, but if I give in tonight, what guarantee do I have that you won’t go running off to Carlisle in the morning? I am – clearly – much less reluctant to give you what you want. Therefore… you first.”

I exhaled with a loud huff. “I have to marry you first?” I asked in disbelief.

“That’s the deal – take it or leave it. A compromise.” Edward pressed himself to me, urging me to accept his terms. His arms wrapped around me, and he began kissing me in a way that should be illegal. Too persuasive – it was duress, coercion. I tried to keep a clear head… and failed quickly and absolutely.

“How did this happen?” I moaned, and not in a good way. “I thought I was holding my own tonight – for once – and now, all of a sudden – “

“You’re engaged,” he finished.

“Edward, no.” I objected.

“Are you going back on your word?” he demanded. He pulled back to read my face. His expression was entertained. He was having fun.

I glared at him, trying to ignore the way his smile made my heart react.

“Are you?” he pressed.

“No,” I groaned. “No. I’m not. I just need time to think. I can’t think right now – give me some time to think.”

He kissed me again quickly. Another too persuasive kiss.

“Take all the time you need.”

He kissed me another time. “Do you get the feeling that everything is backward?” he laughed. “Traditionally, shouldn’t you be arguing my side, and I yours?”

“There isn’t much that’s traditional about you and me.”

Neither of us would surrender in this moment – that was clear. But there were compromises that were pending on the horizon. And, if nothing, I had this night to service my fantasies for awhile. I bit my lip and chuckled.

“I’m curious,” I sighed. “What exactly did you have planned for tonight?”

He didn’t answer. Instead he was up and out of the bed, a hand extended toward me.

I let out my last sigh of contest and threw my hands down on the bed to heave myself up. Edward laughed to himself as I slid to the edge of the bed and stood. I fidgeted in my sweater and straightened my skirt as I walked toward him. I took his hand and noticed him taking in my figure again.

I raised a brow. “Did you want to get back in bed?”

Edward chuckled again, shaking his head. “No, but please do remind me to thank Alice in the morning.”

I rolled my eyes as he led me from his bedroom and into the rest of our romantic evening alone.

PART TWO

 ____

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Twilight Saga world, which is trademarked by Stephenie Meyer and Little Brown Books. All characters referenced are owned by Stephenie Meyer, and I do not claim any ownership over them or the Twilight Saga. The story told here is of my own invention. This story is for entertainment only – fun – and is not part of the official story line. I am grateful to Stephenie Meyer for the creation of these characters and I in no way am profiting from the creation and publication of this story. Some lines are directly quoted from Meyer’s book, Eclipse, and I do not claim to own Meyer’s words.

References:

Meyer, Stephenie. Eclipse. Little, Brown, 2013.

Tennyson, Alfred Tennyson, and W. E. Williams. Tennyson: Poems. Penguin, 1985.

[kumkaniudaku]

Meet the Parents: Four

A/N: This is the last part of this series and a late Valentine’s Day entry. Enjoy another piece of the Chad and CoCo saga. I love you guys! 

Warnings: Not Proofread

Word Count: 5212

“Our parents are coming to visit next week.”

Tasha let the sentence fall from her lips like an observation about the weather and not a random declaration in the middle of weeknight dinner. Chadwick sat beside her on the couch, eyes trained on the television before turning his head for a view of the side of her face. Even in her profile he saw embers of worry smoldering behind her eyes. Chadwick quickly chewed the last bits of black beans in his mouth to answer.

“What?”

“Our parents,” she repeated, finally looking over at him. “They’re coming to visit next week.”

“Our parents? As in just your parents or -.”

“Both sets. Yours and mine. They are going to be in this house next weekend under the impression that we haven’t talked in years when we’ve been playing house for almost two months.”

“Yeah, so,” Chadwick added, not seeing the issue. “We’re grown. Shit happens.”

“My parents think that I’m getting married next fall, Chadwick. They think I’m still with Elijah.”

Chadwick stopped chewing to cough up pieces of rice that had shot to the back of his throat in surprise. “Shit.” He paused to gather himself as Tasha leaned forward to rest her forehead in her hands. “Okay, that explains your folks. How are mine involved?”

“My mama took it upon herself to contact your mama and, I think, they’re on a mission to help us reconnect like this is some family drama or something.” Tasha kept her lead low while her fingers placed air quotes around reconnect. A split second of silence hung in the air until quiet snickering caught her attention. “I’m glad you think this is so funny.”

“It’s too ridiculous not to laugh, baby.” Chadwick fought to stifle laughter as he watched Tasha stand and stomp off toward the kitchen. He hadn’t intended to belittle her feelings, but he wasn’t sure how to process the information. “C’mon, T. I’m sorry!”

In their shared haste to explore a new chapter of their relationship, neither Tasha or Chadwick had alerted their families and friends. Sure, a few people had made assumptions, but nothing that they speculated equaled solid proof. To call the lack of information a secret was too harsh. They preferred the term oversight. But now, with a visit from their families looming, the new couple needed a plan that included cleaning up said oversight without admitting to what would surely be seen as an outright lie.

Tasha stood in the kitchen angrily scrubbing at an empty sauce pot when Chadwick walked in and leaned on the counter beside the sink. He watched with a fond smile for a moment before reaching to grab her wrists and pull her close.

“Hey, look at me,” Chadwick requested, taking Tasha’s chin between his thumb and index finger. Hip lips pressed gentle kisses on her nose and mouth until she relented and returned his affection. “We’ll be okay.”

“You say that like you have a plan.”

Chadwick smiled and pecked Tasha’s lips. “I always have a plan, baby.”

To Chadwick the solution was simple: play along with their parents and finish the long weekend without giving up more information than was necessary. If their mothers wanted to believe they’d done a good deed, let them.

Together, they spent days fine tuning their deceit. Tasha made sure to remove any trace of her existence from Chadwick’s house, scouring the home for an out of place pair of heels or a wayward piece of mail in her name. Chadwick crafted an intricate script with details so precise that CoCo had begun to believe their lie.

The night before mom-eggedon, as Tasha had named their arrival, the couple lay tangled in bed tightening their story.

“So, we’ll have to delete each other’s number for this to work. It’ll look weird if my name pops up in your contacts.”

“How would they even see? I’ll go to another room.”

“That looks suspicious. You have to make the call in front of her.”

“Okay,” Tasha agreed, sighing as she scrolled through her contacts and reluctantly removed Chadwick’s number. “What else?”

“Make sure to grab your bonnet and headscarf before you leave in the morning. Or I can stash them in my drawer. Let me know.”

“You pick. I... need a break.”

Tasha’s sudden bout of anxiety was enough to end any and all conversation that night. She has resigned to the notion that she would have to come clean the minute her parents stepped off of the arrivals sidewalk and slid into the backseat of her car. Still, she was careful to use her best poker face in the off chance that she was home free. Chadwick didn’t share her worries, but he empathized. His parents weren’t nearly as invested in his personal life. He wasn’t the one due to be married in a year’s time.

Sun beat down on Tasha through the windshield of her car while she anxiously glanced in her rearview mirror for any sight of her parents. She hadn’t slept the night before and slipped out of Chadwick’s bed early to avoid any talk of the weekend. In her mind, if she left without speaking to her boyfriend, she could easily forget their connection. She was wrong. All she could think about was ringing his line for another dose of reassurance.

Tasha’s eyes followed a parking official making stops at each car along the curb, silently praying that her parents would emerge from the building before she was handed a ticket.

“Come on, come on,” she whispered, hoping she could will them outside. Her fingernails tapped nervously on the dash until, finally, she caught a glimpse of her mother’s traveling hat moving toward the sidewalk. She bounded from the driver’s side in a single motion and waved her hands for their attention.

“Mom! Dad! Over here!”

“My baby!” Elaine was the first to greet her oldest daughter, leaving Gerald to grab her rolling luggage and haul it to the car.

Tasha smiled as her mother pulled into a hug way too tight for her tense body. “Hey, mama. You travel safe?”

“As safe as I could, child. Your daddy complained the whole time, but we’re here now.”

“Set your old man up with first class tickets next time, Pumpkin. I need some room for these knees.”

“I’m sorry, Dad. I’ll upgrade you for the flight back. Let me grab those.”

Gerald tried to wave Tasha off, but he was too slow. Tasha had already started to channel her nervous energy into overextending her hospitality. Every question was answered with an uncharacteristic amount of enthusiasm. Neither of her parents noticed as they marveled at sights and sounds of Los Angeles. They sat with their faces nearly pressed against the car windows, rattling off questions and observations about the state of the city. Complaints about the traffic earned a laugh that was too loud for the conversation and a shared look of concern between Gerald and Elaine.

“So, how is Elijah,” Elaine asked, looking at Tasha through the rearview mirror with a smile. “We haven’t heard from or about him in about a month. Is he okay?”

Tasha’s foot stuttered on the break as she pulled into her driveway, making the car jerk in response. She took a breath and rolled her shoulders back before answering.

“He’s fine, I suppose. We... aren’t together anymore.”  Tasha’s jaw clenched at the admission and shook her head. She hadn’t said the words aloud yet.

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“He wasn’t good enough for you anyway, Pumpkin. His ears were too big to have nothing in between ‘em.”

Tasha chuckled as she shut off the engine and opened the driver’s side door. “Thanks, Pop.”

“I agree with your father. Now, you have more time to wait on the man that’s supposed to court you, not the other way around. You know, I know a guy.”

“Mhmm,” Tasha mumbled. “Here, let me help with that.”

Gerald stopped pulling suitcases from the trunk and kindly pushed his daughter’s hand away. “I got it, Pumpkin. Take your mama inside. She’s been dying to see your house.”

Tasha laughed at her father’s thinly veiled plea for alone time before ushering her mother into her home. Elaine stepped into the foyer and paused, taking a long look at her surroundings. Beside the door, a basketball rested by a black duffle bag.

“You’re playing basketball again,” she questioned.

“Every once in a while I play with the girls as the facility. No big deal.”

Elaine took another look at the oversized sweatshirt barely hanging out of the bag. “Hm.”

Before Tasha could address Elaine’s non-verbal judgement, her mother had moved on to the living room. Elaine stopped to examine photos and sculptures carefully placed on each surface, finding many of them to have ties back to home or family. Her fingers ghosted over awards from her daughter’s time away from home and she smiled. If Elaine was nothing else, she was proud of Tasha.

While she listened to her husband and daughter wrestle luggage into the house, Elaine carefully took a seat on the large sectional to rest her aching legs. The way she flopped against the plush piece of furniture surprised Elaine, making her giggle but stop when she got a whiff of the air around her. Beside her head lay a dark fleece blanket and she took a deep inhale to place it as a source of the masculine smell.

“This is a nice blanket, Nicole,” she complimented. “It looks warm.”

“It is. Got it on a trip back from Connecticut last year. Great naps have been taken under that thing.”

What Tasha thought as a random fun fact about her favorite blanket made her mother smirk with realization. She knew the smell of a gentleman caller when she encountered one. Though the information wasn’t enough to stop the plan she had in motion, she felt a strange comfort in knowing that Tasha was living a life that pleased her, something Elaine had drilled into her and her sister’s head since their pre-teen years.

“Dad, you want a drink. I have this expensive artisan beer that Ch... a friend left over. When they visited. A friend.”

Tasha stilled to slow her rapidly beating heart at her near mistake. Neither of her parents had seemed to notice and, for that, she was silently grateful.

“My girl is drinking beer now,” Gerald questioned with a wide smile. “Becoming just like your old man.”

“Yeah, well, I dabble. Gotta keep up with the white boys at the Lakers game.”

“Atta, girl. Beat ‘em at their own game. C’mon, show me.”

On one side of town, Tasha busied herself with introducing her parents to the wonders of pale ales and stouts, while on the other, Chadwick emptied grocery bags filled to brim with dinner ingredients. He spent much of the process silently scolding his parents for placing items in areas he knew CoCo wouldn’t enjoy. When his mother moved to place the entire jug of orange juice in the door of the refrigerator, Chadwick couldn’t resist the urge to stop her.

“Actually,” he started, intercepting her before she could place the jug. “I have some pitchers you can empty that into. They’re nice, I promise.”

His mother eyed him as he retrieved a monogrammed pitcher from the cabinet and rinsed it in the sink. The last time she’d visited, he barely had food in the refrigerator. Now, he had specialized pitchers for juice.

“Where did those come from?” Carol asked, trying to get a better look at the glassware.

“Crate and Barrel. I went with a friend a couple weeks ago and they suggested them.” Unlike Tasha, Chadwick had a solid grasp on his lines and practice keeping secrets.

“Hm. This friend suggest those vanilla candles in the living room, too?”

“Those were a gift. Want one? I have a few more in the linen closet.”

“No, I’m alright. Just... noticing some changes.”

“Like what?” Chadwick asked as he stashed breakfast meat in the refrigerator drawer.

“You live alone now. That’s new.”

Chadwick shrugged, seemingly unphased. “It’s been a couple of weeks. The split was mutual. We’re on better terms these days.”

That was an assumption on his part. Chadwick didn’t know the status of his friendship with Charmaine, but he harbored no ill will. Carol opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by her husband walking into the kitchen with a big smile.

“Hell of theater you got back there son. I bet the big game looked good on that big ‘ole screen.”

“Wanna try it out? I think the playoffs start tonight.”

“What about dinner?” Carol asked.

“We’ll eat early. It’s just us right?”

Chadwick tried to avert his gaze once his mother started to look between him and his father. He didn’t want to let on that he knew more than she had shared.

“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk about. You remember Tasha, right?”

“She was my best friend, ma,” Chadwick laughed. “Of course I remember her.”

“I know, I know. But did you know she lived here now?”

“She mentioned it when she sent a gift for the movie.”

“So, you two talk again?”

“We’ve talked once or twice.”

“Have you met up?”

“No.” Chadwick answered, keeping his voice flat to appear neutral. Carol smiled in a way that indicated she had information to share. Chadwick allowed the charade to continue.

“Well, I heard from a little birdie that her parents are also in town this weekend. Maybe you should invite them over.”

“Ma, I don’t know if we’re back on those terms yet. It’s been a while.”

“I know,” Carol answered, drawing out ‘know’ as she took steps toward Chadwick. She latched onto his arm and smiled up at her son. “But, what if she stopped by? Just for dinner?”

Chadwick looked between his parents, paying special attention to his father’s grin. He’d never known his dad to be invested in his private life, but there was always spark behind his eyes when Tasha was involved.

Finally, Chadwick pretended to relent.

“Alright, ma. I don’t have her number, though. How will I call?”

Carol clapped her hands like a giddy child and started a search for her phone. “Don’t you worry your head, boy. I have her number right here.” She extended her arm toward his face. “Go on. Call her. I wanna hear you.”

Chadwick felt his body tense and mind begin to scramble for a response. He had expected to make the call when a moment of solitude presented itself. Now, he was forced to go off script and risk throwing Tasha off balance. On a whim, he decided to grab his mother’s phone to make the call.

The phone rang once, and then a third time before Tasha answered.

“Hello?” she answered with a genuine question thick in her tone.

“Hey, Tasha. It’s me...Chadwick.”

Everyone listened as the sounds in the background became louder before CoCo responded. “Hey, Chad. I have you on speaker. My parents are here.”

“Hi, Chadwick!”

“How ya doin’, son!”

Both Tasha and Chadwick chuckled at her parents' excitement.

“I’m good. Good to hear from y’all. Welcome to LA.” Chadwick listened to Elaine and Gerald share various versions of thank you before continuing. “Hey, so, funny thing...my parents are here too.”

“Oh really? Give them my love. I know they miss me.”

“We miss you so much, sweetie! Why don’t you come eat dinner with us tonight.”

Chadwick chuckled at his mother’s excitement, “That was my line. She beat me to it, but the invite stands. We’d be happy to have y’all over.”

“We’ll be there!”

“Ma!” Tasha and her mother argued in hushed whispers on the other line, nearly making Chadwick forget that the whole conversation was a carefully planned charade. “I guess we’ll be there. You’ll send the address?”

As if she needed it. “Sure. You’ll get it from another number, okay?”

He wasn’t sure why, but Chadwick felt butterflies flutter in the pit of his belly as if this were truly the first time he was seeing the love of his life. He welcomed the feeling and smiled on the other end, making his parents join in on his happiness.

“Great. See you soon,” Tasha answered, a hint of smile in her voice to match Chadwick’s.

They hung up with promises to text for more details and inside jokes that made only them laugh. With a few white lies, they had tricked their parents, and nearly themselves, into believing they were set to embark on a glorious reunion between college friends.

Tasha spent hours rifling through what little clothing she still had at her condo, tossing outfit after outfit onto her bedroom floor until she came up with something she felt would catch her man’s eye.

Across town, Chadwick and his mother arranged and rearranged the dining table dishes to ensure that he was putting forth the best “first” impression. They settled on elegant china that Chadwick felt was a bit too formal for the occasion, but he let it stand. At the very least the flatware would impress Tasha’s parents.

As Tasha drove through Chadwick’s neighborhood, she made sure to maintain a facade of discovery. She didn’t take the normal shortcuts or skip the growing pothole on the street that tormented her each day on the way home from work. She pretended to be surprised at the ornate sculptures crafted from bushes at a nearby house and the amount of expensive cars in the driveways they passed.

“The boy is doing well for himself,” Gerald commented from the backseat.

“Very well. But, we always knew it’d be like this. Chadwick was destined to be big.”

Elaine spoke about Chadwick as if he was some utra celebrity and not the same kid that she had to constantly remind to slow down while he ate so that he wouldn’t choke on his food.

Tasha laughed as she pulled into his driveway. “He’s a movie star. It’s to be expected.”

One by one, the Greene family stepped out of the car into the crisp, early Spring air and started up the short driveway toward the door. Tasha hung back and examined the house from the outside, admiring how the two potted plants they’d placed on the porch were starting to go into one another like their namesakes.

Gerald rapped his knuckles against the door several times before Elaine scolded him for being rude as she pressed the doorbell. When Tasha caught up to her parents, the door opened and sent light from the inside spilling onto the front porch. Chadwick popped out of the house with his arms open wide.

“Family!”

He gripped Tasha’s parents into tight hugs, sharing familiar pleasantries as he welcomed them into his home. Elaine stuttered when it was her turn to embrace, taking a deep whiff of Chadwick’s shoulder and feeling transported to a moment earlier in the day. She kept quiet, but took note of his hug with Tasha as he moved on to greet the other members of the household. Elaine noticed the way he seemed to hug her like a man familiar with the curvature of his lover’s body and shared a look with Carol that spoke louder than words.

As a unit, they quickly fell back into familiar behaviors, catching each other up with life’s happenings and new discoveries. On the far end of Chadwick’s sectional, he and Tasha sat close enough to share side conversations that only they could hear.

“Just like old times,” Lawrence, Chadwick’s father, commented over his glass of water. “You two haven’t changed in over 20 years.”

“What you mean, dad? We’re just over here talking.”

“That ain’t just talking,” Gerald chimed in. “Y’all always had your little secret language.”

“And a knack for keeping each other’s secrets.”

Tasha looked over at Elaine who sat with a knowing smirk on her face that unsettled her daughter. Chadwick easily maintained his cool as he sipped from his wine glass.

“That’s how it goes when you’ve been friends this long. We are still friends, right?”

Tasha felt her cheeks become warm through her bashful smile. “Of course. Always.”

Both sets of parents looked on with fond smiles while their kids shared a moment of rekindling a little more than longtime friendship. Elaine and Carol exchanged winks to congratulate each other on a job well done.

“Well isn’t that sweet,” Carol spoke after clearing her throat. “But, I think the roast is done. Can we move this moment to the dining room?”

“Yeah, sure. Tasha, can you help mama in the kitchen? You need help right, mama?”

“I’ll take it wherever I can get it,” she laughed.

“Now, you know you don’t ever have to ask me for help. I’m right behind you.”

The group quickly dispersed to different corners of the house, leaving Tasha and Carol to explore Chadwick’s kitchen on their own. Tasha took it upon herself to reach into the drawer beside the stove and grab pot holders. Carol watched her move around the space as if she had been there a thousand times.

“Did you say you’ve visited Chad before?”

Tasha looked back as she opened the stove and shook her head. “No, ma’am. This is my first time.”

“Hm. Okay.” She continued to watch Tasha carefully slide the roast out of the oven and close the door with her hip. When Tasha turned around, Carol tried to recover a moment too late. Tasha smiled nervously.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” Carol quickly answered. “I just...I thought...it doesn’t matter. I’ll grab another bottle of wine and meet you in the dining room.”

Carol’s pivot seemed to do the trick once Tasha carried the main dish to the dining room. Chadwick sat at the end of the table with a mixed look of boredom and relief once Tasha entered the room. He sprung up to retrieve the dish from her hands, but Tasha gripped his hands to stop him.

“Your mom is being weird,” Tasha whispered.

“Your’s too. She noticed that bottle of air freshener you always spray in here and asked where it came from.”

“What is she a fuckin’ bloodhound?”

“She is you,” Chadwick laughed. “I think I got us out of it, but be careful.”

Carol’s entrance forced the pair to separate and pretend to focus on different tasks. She eyed their charade for a moment before looking over to Elaine and their aloof husbands solely focused on dinner.

She took a seat beside Lawrence just as Tasha settled in next to Chadwick while trying to avoid eye contact.

“So, who’s going to say the blessing? Tasha?”

Tasha’s eyes grew wide, “Oh, I’m probably not the best person. You know how I am with words and this isn’t my house anyway. How about Chad?”

“Uh, sure. Everybody bow your heads.” Tasha squeezed Chadwick’s hand as a silent thanks and clamped her eyes shut to avoid the daggers he sent in her direction. Chadwick took a deep breath in search of words to fit the occasion. “Lord, thank you for bringing us together again tonight. Especially Tasha and I as long time friends. We-”

“Hope that you will use all of us to tell the truth about our love for one another. Please, don’t let this night pass without every feeling and overlooked detail put on the table. It’d be a shame for us to leave here holding on to what you put on our hearts to share.”

Amens, both genuine and forced, sounded around the table to signal the end of Elaine’s awkward prayer. The group sat in silence while scooping food onto their plates. Tasha and Chadwick attempted to remain inconspicuous.

“Chadwick, how’s Hollywood treating you,” Gerald asked between bites of food.

“Ah, you know how it goes out here. I go to work, come home and avoid all that foolishness in between. The pay is good though. I can’t lie about that.”

“You better be avoiding the foolishness. Tasha, now that you’re here, keep my boy straight.”

“Yes, sir,” Tasha laughed. “If I’m not good at anything else, I’m good at bossing him around.”

“Did Tasha tell you that she’s single now?”

“Ma! We literally just got here. When would I have had time to share that?” Tasha shot her mother a glare across the table and received a shrug in return.

“I only asked a question. Are you single Chad?”

Chadwick chuckled as he slipped his hand under the table and gripped Tasha’s thigh. “No, I didn’t know she was single and, yes, I am recently single. The last relationship didn’t workout quite the way she hoped.”

“Sounds like you two have something in common.”

“Oh you and what’s his name aren’t together?”

Tasha caught Chadwick’s obvious sarcasm and brushed his hand off her leg. He continued to laugh at her expense, leaving no room for her to unleash her frustration beyond a curt smile.

“You know his name, Aaron. And, no, we are not. That is my business to keep to myself.”

“Alright,” Chadwick answered. “Maybe I can hook you up with one of my actor friends. I hear Anthony Mackie is looking for someone your type.”

“I’ll pass. Actors aren’t my thing.”

“Hm. That’s not what I heard.”

Chadwick jokingly nudged Tasha’s shoulder, garnering a look from Elaine and Carol.

“What did you hear,” Carol asked. “Don’t the kids say something about the tea?”

“Nothing. Chadwick hasn’t heard a thing but a seminar on how to still be annoying after 20 years.”

He laughed and wiped his mouth. “I’m pretty good at it, too. You look a little flushed, though. Want more wine?”

A simple diversion pushed the conversation into talks of wine tasting and how to pair reds and whites, effectively ending all relationship talk for a stretch. Underneath the table, Tasha and Chadwick took turns letting their hands wander. The cat and mouse game quickly grew inappropriate with fingers buried between thighs and palms gripping sacred parts over thick denim fabric. Their parents enjoyed helping after helping of food until each person was stuffed and nearly falling out of their seats. Lawrence, however, wasn’t done.

“I could go for some dessert,” he mentioned during a lull in the conversation. “What we got in the kitchen?”

“Mama, you got that cheesecake I ordered, right? Tasha, wanna help me grab it.” Chadwick had been thinking about a way to briefly separate from the group to sneak a kiss or a hug and, finally, he’d found an out.

Tasha peeped the hint of demand in his voice and nodded. “For sure. You know you have butter fingers anyway. We’ll be right back.”

The pair didn’t give their parents time to reject the offer before they scurried out of the room. When they made it into the kitchen undetected, Tasha pulled Chadwick into a searing kiss. He chuckled against her lips while fondling her backside.

“Your joke was not funny,” Tasha mumbled before breaking the kiss. “Mackie? Really?”

“Gotta make it realistic, baby. You handled it like a champ.”

“Mhmm. Next time, I’m coming with jokes about your relationship.”

Chadwick allowed Tasha to slip from his grip and head to the refrigerator. He watched her hips sway for a second before reaching into the cabinet to grab dessert plates.

“Which ones do you usually use?”

“The white marble. Grab the gold forks to match the decor. You did a good setting it up by yourself.”

“Do you know how hard it was to keep my mama from moving stuff around?”

“Probably as hard as it was to keep mine out of my office. Why can’t they be like our dad’s?”

“Because then we wouldn’t love them as much,” he added. “Only a couple more days of this and then I can have you back in here with my shirts on.”

“Oh, so, we aren’t meeting up for some car sex tomorrow.”

Tasha stepped closer as Chadwick lifted a brow and watched her beneath hooded lids. “Don’t tempt me, baby.”

“Now, Aaron. You know that ain’t my style. I’ll call you. We’ll call it lunch.” Balancing the tray of cheesecake in one hand, Tasha pressed a quick kiss against Chadwick’s lips before turning to leave the kitchen.

“Who wants cheesecake,” he hollered as he followed Tasha back into the dining room with a smile.

Both sets of parents watched the couple attempt to pass out slices without bumping into each other, taking note of the clear gloss making Chadwick’s lips shine. Lawrence tried to send messages to his son to wipe his mouth but all of them went unnoticed. Elaine and Carol shared smiles while Gerald stifled a laugh.

After passing out each piece of cake, Tasha and Chadwick took their seats and found all eyes on them.

“What,” Chadwick asked as he stabbed a fork into his cheesecake.

Lawrence cleared his throat. “I think you have something you need to share, son.”

“Like what?”

“Maybe Tasha will know,” Elaine added. Tasha forced a laugh and smiled.

“I don’t even know what’s going on right now. What are you talking about?”

“How about you start with how long you and Chadwick have been seeing each other. And be honest this time, Pumpkin.”

Tasha and Chadwick froze. In the mirror above his parent’s head and noticed the evidence of their secret still on his lips. There was no sense in preserving the farce. They were caught red handed. So, he smiled and shook his head. Tasha finally relented with a hearty laugh.

“When did you know, mama?”

“Child, as soon as I smelled man on your couch and hugged this one at the door. You have to be smarter than that.”

Carol chimed in and pointed at Tasha, “And this one went in the kitchen and started pulling things out of the drawer like she owned the place.”

“You don’t think we noticed the glassware in the fridge? You drink orange juice out of the carton and now all of a sudden there’s pitchers all over the place.”

“Since when do you drink beer, Pumpkin. I knew you either had a boyfriend or you were going through a midlife crisis like your mama when she only drank martinis for a year.”

Chadwick and Tasha listen to all the places they had neglected tiny details, feeling slightly foolish that they’d tried to pull the wool over the eyes of the people that knew them best.

“Okay, you got us,” Chadwick admitted. “This was all Tasha’s idea. I wanted to tell y’all right away. It’s been almost two months of this lie she made me tell.”

“Oh, hush! I just figured we would tell you when we were ready. Well, when I was ready. I’m sorry, y’all.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Carol answered.

“This just gives us more time for planning.”

Tasha raised an eyebrow while leaning into Chadwick’s side. “Planning what?”

“The wedding of course,” Elaine exclaimed. Tasha’s groan became covered by Chadwick’s boisterous laughter.

“Lay ‘em on me, Ms. Greene. What you thinking?”

“How do feel about a rustic wedding, Ooh ooh, let me go grab my phone. Did I tell you I have a Pinterest now?”

[queerbuckleys]

♝: Reading a book together and ♗: One falling asleep with their head in the other’s lap for Buddie? No stress/pressure if you're not inspired/don't like these ones. 😊

Hi Kayla!! 

This, wow, this really got away from me 😂😅, I used a fairly open definition of “book” and “reading”, so I hope that’s okay. 

Shoutout to @lovebuck​ for giving me the names for the twins 🙂

I give you- 1k of incredibly soft married Buck and Eddie being soft. 

I hope you like it.

♝: Reading a book together +♗: One falling asleep with their head in the other’s lap

You would think that a night in without kids in the house would result in a scene where there were clothes strewn everywhere and sweaty bodies tangled on the bed. That was not the nature of the scene that is playing out in the living room of the Buckley-Diaz residence tonight. The kids were at a sleepover and Buck and Eddie had gone out for dinner alone for the first time in months. Not for any special occasion. Just because they could without having a baby screaming at any point during the meal. Don’t get them wrong, they love Christopher and the twins, Roxanne and Rylie,  but it was nice to have a quiet evening. It was just after they had returned home from dinner and they were sitting on the couch in the living room of the house that they had bought together not long after getting married. 

“What do we do now?” Buck asked yawning

“We could clean?” Eddie says, god knows the house needs it. 

“If I had any energy to clean, we would be doing something much more fun right now.” 

It had been a long day, none of the kids had a good night's rest so they were cranky, until it was time to go visit Auntie Hen of course. Then suddenly they were happy as clams, not a care in the world. Leaving both parents exhausted. 

“Touché. Tv? Movie?” Eddie tries

“What about our wedding album? We spent so much money one the pictures and Maddie worked so hard to put it together for us.  I don’t think we have ever actually sat down and looked at it together.”

“Let’s do that then.” Eddie said with a soft smile, he got up from the couch and grabbed a large white photo album from the bookshelf. They had been so busy moving and then getting ready for and having the twins that they had never had a chance to really look at it. They both felt very guilty as Maddie had done endless research about the best place to have a wedding album done, and then paid for it. 

Buck pulled up their wedding playlist on his phone and put the volume at a soft level in the background, and placed his phone on the coffee table. 

Their names were printed in gold on the linen cover in a script, with the date of their wedding in smaller lettering below. 

The first few pictures were of each of them getting ready separately. Beautiful shots of Maddie tying Buck’s bowtie and pinning on his corsage. A similarly crafted picture of Chris helping with Eddie’s. 

The next pages were of their first looks photoshoot, the first was them back to back holding a hand behind them, the next of them seeing each other in their suits for the first time which radiated the pure joy and love between them. 

“God, no wonder they made fun of us. Look at that.” Buck said laughing a little

“They made fun of us for the same thing last week babe.” 

“I know but this is the first time I’m seeing it from the outside.’’ he turned the page to the pictures of the ceremony. Chris and May walking down the aisle, then Eddie with Helena and Ramon, and finally Buck with Maddie. There was a picture of both of them with Bobby between them officiating and next to it there was a quote from Bobby’s officiant speech printed. There were images of when they each placed the ring on each other’s fingers. One of the moment when Buck had crouched down to Chris’ level and made a vow to him too. And of course one of the kiss. 

The next few pages were of Buck and Eddie, and a few of them and Chris. Then came the reception photos, where there were notes from important guests and quotes from the speeches printed around the edges. There were pictures of their first dance. Buck dancing with Maddie, Eddie with his mom. One of Buck’s favorite moments when they had a dance with Chris. Eddie began reading each of the messages and Buck snuggled into him. After a few minutes Buck had drifted off to  sleep. Eddie placed a kiss into his curls and pulled the fuzzy throw from over the back of the couch over Buck. Which only made Buck snuggle in more. 

Eddie sat there for a few minutes thinking about all they went through to get to where they were. How he had never dared to dream of this all those years ago. How Buck trusted him to stay. How lucky they were to have Roxy and Rylie, and Chris. He thought about their future together. The 5 of them all together. Maybe adding a cat or dog in there somewhere along the way. 

Buck shifted, rubbed his eyes, looked up at Eddie and said, “Are we a boring married couple now?” 

“Nothing is ever boring with you.” The music shifted into their first dance song, “c’mon. Up.”

“But I’m so tired Eddie.”

“But I wanna dance with my husband Buck. Now scoot.”

Buck just shuffles up until he is standing. Eddie not far behind. They wrap themselves around each other just as they did that day. Buck burying his nose in Eddie’s hair and Eddie nuzzling into Buck’s neck. 

The song ended and they both were practically falling asleep on each other. The physics involved with how they were still both standing was incredible. 

“Okay. bedtime.” Eddie finally spoke up

“Can you carry me?” Buck whined, with a bit of a playful lilt.

“Have you seen you? Buck, I love you but I cannot carry you.” Eddie said barely making it through without yawning.

“Fine. Love you too.”  Buck mumbled as he gathered his phone. 

*

“Hey, thank you for tonight. It was really nice. Even if it makes us a boring married couple.” Eddie said, once they were settled in bed, Buck let out a contented sigh. And for the second time that night Eddie found himself with a sleeping husband on him. Eddie just smiled before snuggling into his husband, wrapping Buck into a hug and drifting off to sleep for the night.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #480

“the doomsday clock was made by mankind”

Do you support PETA? No, because they are WAY too extreme. Have you ever lied about your gender? No. Have you ever had escargot? NOOOOOOOO. You couldn't pay me to try that shit. Have you played Breath of the Wild? No; Zelda games aren't my thing. I've watched Game Grumps play it, though. At what venue was the last concert you attended? Idr, somewhere in Raleigh. Who was playing at the last concert you attended? Alice Cooper. Maybe one day I'll have a new answer, lol. Do you have any anniversaries coming up? No. Would you try grapes on a pizza? Holy fuck, ew. Have you ever tried an oyster? How would you describe the experience? Oysters look fucking disgusting. Never. Has anyone ever specifically painted you a painting? Not a painting, no, but I've had drawings made for me. Would you ever want to try pole dancing? Nah. Have you ever had any sort of paranormal experience? Yes. Have you ever gotten something stuck in your skin? (ie: glass shard, gravel) Yeah, like splinters. And graphite. Do any of your grandparents live a nursing home? They're all deceased, but none did. Do you have a USB drive that is shaped like anything unique? No; mine is just a solid hot pink. What country would you like to visit most? South Africa. Whose birthday is closest to today’s date? (someone you know) Girt's birthday is the 10th! Do you know anyone in another country? I have Australian and European friends, yes. Have you ever wanted to be on a game show? Not seriously. Do you believe taking a picture of someone is taking a piece of their soul? Ha, this question makes me think of the quote from SOMA. Anyway, no. Do you have any friends with the same first name as you? No. How many states have you lived in? One. Pancakes or waffles? Waffles, so I can spread peanut butter on them. :') What is the saddest book you’ve ever read? Johnny Got His Gun. ZERO competition. What political cause are you most passionate about? Probably LGBTQ+ rights. Really just equality in general. Have you ever considered having children? The only time I've ever in my life thought I wanted kids was when I was with Jason. Hell, I wanted two or three. Now I'm just like... nah man no thank you. Have you ever considered acting? No. Who was the last person you slept next to? Sara. Do you think you can be in love and still cheat on your S.O.? Ha, no. What is the most embarrassing thing anyone has on video of you? I dunno. Did you ever get lost as a child? Once at the grocery store. A sweet old lady helped me find Mom. Do you know how to play any card games? The very basic ones, and Magic: The Gathering. What are you currently most looking forward to? Mom to feel better so Girt can come over. What is the best television show you’ve ever watched? Hm... Fullmetal Alchemist has a pretty bangin' story. What color are your parents’ eyes? Brown. Are you more dependent or independent? I've very dependent, honestly. Are there any stuffed animals in the room you’re in? Yeah, loads. I have a shelf full of my meerkat collection. Do you love animals? I adore them. I quite frankly don't like anyone who doesn't, because... how. How many people have you kissed in a car? One or two? Who made you mad last? My mom. She said something that just really hurt my feelings. How long was your last shower? It was longer than usual because standing, taking steps to turn, propping my legs up, etc. was fucking excruciating because my feet, ankles, and calves were so swollen. It's so fucking infuriating; in a previous survey I mentioned "oh it's because my body isn't used to getting up and down so much! it's improvement! :D", but no. The swelling was from sitting too long at the desk. My legs are so used to being propped up from being in bed that it caused edema when I was finally sitting. I went back to my fucking bed now because Mom mentioned that it could get extremely dangerous if the fluid buildup got too severe. And of course now that I'm back in bed, the swelling is receding. I can't fucking win. Have you ever had a really bad haircut? Looking back, I think the haircut I had before this current one was pretty bad, but at least it showed me I'd like short hair on myself. What’s your favorite DIY crafts YouTube channel? I don't watch DIY. What would be the best surprise you could receive right now? At this moment, just give me the magic answer to losing all this fucking weight and getting in shape and being happy. Do you usually forgive when someone hurts your or try to get revenge? I forgive too much. Were there any subjects in school that were really easy for you? English and most science. Did you ever skip a grade or get held back a grade? No. Was your first car used or new? I haven't had my own car yet. How often do you watch the news? Never. Do you have a fan in your room? I have two. Have you ever hatched an egg? In elementary school, as a class. It was a chick. :') I think it was in kindergarten? Would you like to go to a fortune teller? No, because I wouldn't support them spouting bullshit and lying to people. Do you chew gum on a daily basis? No. I've actually been craving gum for a long time now... For each person you’ve kissed, describe your feelings in one word: My feelings towards them? Jason: Remorseful. Tyler: Eye roll. Sara: thankful. Girt: love. Do you have “friends” that you actually hate? That's some juvenile shit. No. Would you rather get [another] tattoo or piercing? Gimme both, but if I had to pick, a tattoo. If you’re dating someone, how long has it been? It's been just shy of a month Feels a lot longer. If you’re a girl, have you ever had the urge shave your hair? Not shave my entire head, no. Do you live by a forest? Not anymore. :/ Do your parents drink? My dad is a recovered alcoholic, so he doesn't touch it anymore. Mom only drinks lightly for special occasions. Does downloading music without paying make you feel guilty? Yes, and yet I do it anyway. :x Does your house have air conditioning? Yes. What do you believe in more: Ghosts or demons? Ghosts. I don't believe in demons. Do you think they’re making too big of a deal over Michael Jackson’s death? Old survey is old, but no, not really. He was an absolute pop icon that was deeply loved by millions and millions and inspired the genre deeply. I wasn't even a big fan and yet I felt for those who were. French fries or onion rings? The former. I don't like onion rings. Favorite healthy snack? Um. I suppose apple slices w/ peanut butter, especially lately. Or strawberries. ]If you see a bee in your house... are you going to kill it? Bees honestly scare me, so I'm not touching it. Mom will have to get it, and I know she would kill it. Would you feel funny if you kissed somebody of the same sex? Done it before, and it didn't feel weird. If your best friend grabs your hand, what do you automatically do? I'd look at her and ask what's wrong. What’s something you can cook or bake like a pro? Nothing. Do you tend to flirt a lot, even when the person isn’t single? No, especially if the person is taken. Can grills be sexy on a guy? Grills are unattractive on everyone. Have you ever flown first class? Ha, yeah right. Are you the type of person who can shake insults off easily, or do they tend to stick around in your brain & bother you? They stick around for years upon years. Some I think I'll never forget.