#but DO NOT make me rehearse them again for another four hours

[you-are-constance]

its probably not good that i have a four hour rehearsal tomorrow and still don't have the music we're supposed to be working on

[miracleonice87]

behind the scenes at 30 rock

part of the kissing kelce universe

a/n: the newest installment is here! takes place during Travis's SNL appearance. includes guest appearances from jason, mama and papa kelce, and kelsea ballerini. enjoy!

warnings: mention of pregnancy / related sickness / babies, alcohol, swearing, i think that's it

word count: ~4,000

___

March 5, 2023 

Travis was mere hours from hosting Saturday Night Live, the biggest honor of his entire life and career outside of football. 

And you? You were sitting alone in his green room – an appropriate name, considering how you were constantly green in the gills these days – being sick in a trash can. 

Travis was rehearsing on stage, along with Jason and the cast, while Donna, Ed, and Trav’s management team were being toured around the studio. You had hung back after muttering a lame excuse about needing to call home and walk your parents through how to record the show tonight. Donna had eyed you suspiciously but let it go… and the group left you alone just in time for you to cough up your guts moments after the door closed. 

The wave of sickness lasted for a good three or four minutes, and as you sat up weakly, pressing the inside of your wrist to your sweaty forehead before reaching into your purse for your breath spray, you wondered how the fuck you were going to clean this up without anyone noticing. With a groan, you reached for some paper towels, crumpling them up and shoving them into the bag of the offending trash can, then tied the cheap plastic bag tightly closed and put it in another empty trash bag which, thankfully, you found inside the can. Somehow, you kept the gagging to a minimum as you picked up the bundle of bags and walked toward the door, taking a deep breath in when you reached it.

This is so fucking embarrassing. 

You cracked the door open just far enough to call out to a young PA walking down the hallway. As he drew closer, you called sheepishly, “Excuse me?”

He whipped his head up and stood straight, not having noticed the partially open door until you spoke.

“Oh, Mrs. Kelce!” he said with a polite smile. “Yes, can I help you?”

You winced visibly. “Actually, yes,” you admitted softly. “Please know that I absolutely hate to do this, but… I was just, uh, sick, in here and… I was wondering if it was possible to get rid of this for me?” You held the bag up a few inches and smiled at him apologetically. “I swear I’m not drunk, I’m just, uh… I’m not feeling well.”

He nodded and gave you an understanding smile. 

“Not a problem, Mrs. Kelce,” he said, carefully reaching for the bag. “Trust me, I’ve dealt with much worse than this,” he said playfully, and you were grateful for his assistance and his attempt to make you feel better. “You let us know if you need anything else, alright?” 

“Thank you so much,” you said quietly. You read his nametag before continuing. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, Jeremy. And, um, one more thing…”

He nodded again. “Anything.”

“Keep this between us?” you said softly, lifting an index finger to your lips.

Slowly, a knowing smirk stretched across his lips. “Of course,” he assured. “My lips are sealed.”

You nodded, mouthing a final “thank you.” You closed the door and rested your head against the cool frame, closing your eyes and exhaling slowly, relieved that that hadn’t been as painful as you’d feared, and making a mental note to send Jeremy some piece of memorabilia signed by Travis as a token of your gratitude. 

You jumped when, just a few moments later, a soft knock came on the other side of the door.

“One second!” you called, ducking into the view of the lighted mirror to check your appearance, reaching for a tissue to wipe at the corners of your mouth. 

“Hey, it’s Kelsea,” a voice said quietly. “Can I come in?”

You smiled. Not only was it Travis’s first time on SNL, but it was also the first appearance for the musical guest, Kelsea Ballerini, who just so happened to be one of your favorite artists and one of the most-played on your Spotify account. You had briefly met her earlier and were able to tell her what a big fan of hers you were, and you were thrilled that she was back again, presumably to chat or maybe to take a quick photo before the show.

“Yes, come in!” you called cheerfully as you cleared your throat and tossed the tissue into the trash from three-point range, plastering a mega-watt smile on your features as if nothing at all had happened in the last ten minutes. 

She opened the door wearing a sweats set and carrying one of the SNL bags given to each special guest, and you noticed her freshly finished hair and makeup – the final step before the show would be to change into her outfit, which was sure to be stunning.

As you were about to open your mouth to tell her how beautiful she looked already, she shut the door and said abruptly, “Are you okay?”

Your stomach fluttered, this time due to nerves and not the baby in your belly. 

How did she know?

You swallowed hard and tried your best to play it off. 

“Yeah, I’m fine!” you lied through your teeth with a wave of your hand. “Why do you ask?”

She smiled and shyly ducked her head before meeting your eyes again.

“Well, my boyfriend Chase was just walking past and overheard you talking to the PA about being sick…” You pursed your lips, trying as hard as you could to keep a grin from your face. Kelsea forged ahead. “Now, listen, you do not have to tell me if you don’t want to, of course, but… I doubt you’d be here at all if you had the stomach flu, and you don’t seem like you’ve had too much to drink, so…”

You chuckled quietly, then nodded. After a long pause, you copped. 

“We literally just found out a week ago…”

Kelsea covered her mouth as she screamed silently and began hopping from one foot to the other. 

“Oh, my god, oh, my god! Congratulations!” she whisper-yelled as she wrapped you in a warm hug. In your wildest dreams, you could have never guessed that Kelsea Ballerini would be the second person – well, technically the third, if Jeremy had in fact caught your drift – in the world whom you told that you were expecting. Kelsea pulled away and held you at arm’s length. “Okay, well, I’m glad I asked – I had a feeling so I brought ginger ale and Jolly Ranchers. That’s what helped one of my girlfriends through her whole first trimester.” 

She reached into the bag hanging from her forearm and produced said items, and you pressed a hand to your lips as tears pricked your eyes. 

“Sorry, ignore me!” you exclaimed, laughing as you accepted the items. “It’s the freaking hormones. But that is so sweet of you. Thank you. You did not have to do that – you have a show to prepare for!” 

She waved her hand nonchalantly. “I know, I know, but this is just girl code,” she said decidedly. “I’ll run back out there in a sec but I wanted to make sure you were okay. Here, sit, sit,” she insisted as she motioned toward the velvet couch. 

You did as you were instructed and happily screwed the cap off of the soda, taking a few small sips. The coolness and carbonation of the drink were a welcome sensation on your tongue. 

“So nobody else knows?” Kelsea whispered excitedly, scrunching her nose with glee. 

As you swallowed, you smiled. “No,” you whispered back, and Kelsea squealed. “I’m only six weeks. We’re gonna tell my brother- and sister-in-law and his parents tomorrow when we go to Philly to meet the new baby, but right now it’s just us who know. And you!” 

She clapped her fingertips together enthusiastically. “This is the coolest thing ever!” she exclaimed, tipping her head back. 

“Don’t tell Trav that you know!” you warned as you unrolled a watermelon Jolly Rancher and popped it into your mouth. “He won’t be upset, but then he’ll wonder how you found out, and he’s been so worried about how sick I’ve been. I mean, he tried to cancel this,” you explained, motioning generally around the room. 

Kelsea held up a hand. “I swear on my life – again, girl code,” she promised. “But what I am gonna do? Is tell my boyfriend to keep an eye on you during the show and get you an out if needed. I don’t need to tell him why – he’ll listen.” 

You reached to rest your hand on her knee, squeezing it affectionately. “Thank you, Kelsea,” you said sincerely. “I really appreciate it. I’d say we’d name our baby after you, but that might be a little weird.”

Kelsea burst into a fit of laughter. “Yeah, Kelsea Kelce might be a bit much,” she admitted. “We can workshop it though.”

You giggled, then took another sip of ginger ale.

“Think you’ll be okay to sit through this whole thing?” she asked as you reached for the bag of salt and vinegar chips you’d stashed in Travis’s bag as you were leaving the hotel earlier. 

You nodded. “Usually I’m okay for a few hours once I’ve eaten something. Today’s just been so crazy that I hadn’t even realized I hadn’t eaten enough. I can tell you that won’t happen again,” you told her as you popped a chip into your mouth.

Kelsea tutted. “Girl, I get it. I get hangry so easily, and I’m not even pregnant,” she confessed as you beamed. “Well, I’m gonna get out there, but I’m glad you’re hanging in there. And I’m so happy for you and Travis, truly – I know we just met but it’s not hard to see how much y’all love each other and love your family, and you’re gonna be amazing parents.” 

Tears welled in your eyes once more as you wrapped your free arm around Kelsea’s neck, and she hugged your waist. 

“Thank you,” you managed, voice watery. You sat back and cleared your throat. “Now, break a leg! No pressure, but you’re technically baby’s first concert.”

Kelsea gaped. “I didn’t even think of that!” she said giddily. “Oh, my god, I’m gonna turn it all the way on then.” 

___

Backstage, a few hours later, Kelsea and Travis locked eyes in the moments immediately following the end of the live taping and the chaos that ensued. Over her head, she pointed both index fingers at him, doing her best to make a beeline to him through the sea of cast, crew, family, and friends. Travis danced toward her as though he had just caught a touchdown in the corner of the end zone at Arrowhead. 

“You did it!” he exclaimed, booming voice echoing throughout the short distance between them.

As she finally reached him, she extended both hands to high-five him, then the two embraced giddily. 

“We did it!” she shouted back, clapping him on the back. “You absolutely killed it out there!” 

Travis pulled back to point at Kelsea. “You were amazing,” he praised. “You sounded incredible!”

“Thank you, thank you,” she said, bowing playfully. “God, what a night!”

Travis rubbed his palms together. “What a fucking night indeed,” he concurred. “Now it’s time to celebrate – I’m gonna go find my family and get this freakin’ makeup off,” he laughed, then looked at her pointedly. “See you and Chase at the afterparty?”

Kelsea looked at him as though he were crazy. “Are you kidding? We’ll be there with bells on. I’ll meet you for shots in twenty,” she assured, then her expression grew more serious, and she leaned up to speak into Travis’s ear quietly enough so that no one could hear. “Just make sure you check on wifey first – and make sure she eats something before we go out.”

As Kelsea took a step back, Travis eyed her in disbelief. 

“Wait, how did you-”

Kelsea pressed an index finger to her lips. 

“I’m sworn to secrecy – girl code,” she whispered. Then, as she backed away, she mouthed, “congratulations.” 

He shook his head, a bashful smile on his face, and mouthed back, “thank you.”

___

Another hour into the night, after Travis had made sure you had your fill of the Chinese takeout he’d made certain to have a PA deliver to you right after the show, you were watching him hold court in the middle of Mermaid Oyster Bar in Times Square, simultaneously amused by and in awe of the way he was being doted upon as king of the city, even if just for the night. The poignance and ferocity of your first hug upon finding him after the show rivaled the embraces shared between the two of you after both Super Bowl victories, after your wedding vows, and, most recently, upon finding out you were expecting. 

But never in any of those sacred moments had you been so fucking tired as you were right now. Fighting against the exhaustion that threatened to overpower you at any moment as you watched Travis in a daze, you hid a yawn behind your palm and blinked furiously. In the corner of your private booth reserved for family, Donna sat sipping her cocktail, eyes never leaving you. When Ed got up from the table to meet someone at Jason’s behest, Donna scooted closer to you, leaning in so that she could be heard above the thumping music. 

“We should do a tequila shot together – I know it’s your favorite, and it’s a special occasion!” she suggested, nudging your shoulder with hers. 

You threw her a smile which you hoped wasn’t riddled with the anxiety you felt at the proposition. 

“You’re crazy!” you accused in jest. “It’s been such a long day, I’ll fall asleep if I take a shot.”

Donna nodded decisively, took a generous sip of her drink, and placed her hand atop yours on the table, studying you. 

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

“Mom!” you suddenly heard from behind you, the single syllable tinged with a familiar northeast Ohio accent, and you and Donna both turned your heads to find her youngest son gaping at you, blue eyes wide with bewilderment and lips parted. “What the fuck?!” he spat as he hurried around to the front of the booth.

Donna guffawed. “Well, now I definitely have my answer!” she said, smacking the table gleefully before throwing her arms around you. “Congratulations, honey!” she exclaimed, kissing your cheek. “Oh, I’m so happy for you!” She reached for Travis’s hand as he tucked into the seat next to you, and you leaned against the table to allow mother and son as much space as possible to embrace behind you in the cramped booth.

“What’s happening?” Jason questioned as he approached alongside Ed, his signature brows furrowed as he looked at you accusingly. Travis and Donna parted and turned their attention to the other two Kelces. You pursed your lips before bursting into nervous laughter. 

“Well… our mother just accused this one of being pregnant,” Travis announced, wrapping an arm tightly around your shoulders as you offered a playful wave, watching Jason’s eyebrows shoot straight up, his color draining from his face at the perceived uncomfortable moment. “And as only Mom could be, she was 100% correct in that assumption.”

“Ayyyy-yyy-yyy!” Jason erupted, throwing his arms into the air before slinging them around both you and Travis at the same time, as Ed clapped in the background. “That’s fucking amazing! Oh my god!” 

As Jason made space for Ed to congratulate the two of you, Donna put a finger in the air. 

“I want to make it clear that I did not ask based on her weight or appearance or anything of the sort,” she insisted, one hand flush to her chest as if reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. “I only asked because she turned down a tequila shot for the first time in the many years that I have known her.”

Jason and Ed cackled, and Travis drew you even closer into his side. 

“Alright nah! That’s my girl,” he joked, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Only eight more months until your next one, sweetness.”

“That is very unlike her, I’ll give you that,” Ed concurred. “So, when are you due, sweetheart?”

You looked up at Travis and shared an elated grin. “Uh, November 6!” you announced. “It’s early – we only just found out last week.”

As Donna clapped furiously and Ed nodded, beaming, Jason held up both hands.

“Hold on, hold on, hold on… isn’t that the first day of Travis’s bye?” he asked incredulously. 

You nodded happily as Travis bobbled his head from side to side, pride and euphoria radiating from him, especially in his alcohol-flooded state. Jason stood still as a statue, gaping. “This is insane! You’re probably gonna get to be with her and the baby for, like, multiple days and not have to work or go anywhere,” he pointed out.

Travis nodded knowingly. “You’re goddang right, brotha – everything’s coming up Kelce! Ha haaa!”

Jason chuckled. “You’re unbelievable,” he said, shaking his head. “But shit, am I happy for you guys! Oh, my god, Ky’s gonna flip!”

Travis squeezed your bicep and implored, “Jason, please do not go back to your hotel and drunkenly call her, okay? We’ve been planning to wait and tell her in person tomorrow when we get to your house to meet Benny, which is when we were gonna tell all of you, but apparently Mom had other plans!” 

Jason crossed his heart. “Um, you might have to take my phone away from me to make sure that doesn’t happen, but I promise I won’t do it on purpose.”

___

You somehow managed to stay awake until four in the morning, largely thanks to the advice Jason had received from Rich Eisen to sleep in for as long as possible that morning in order to prep for the wild night after the show, but you realized you had finally hit your wall when the crew was ready to head to another location and you were not. Travis pulled you into his chest while the group discussed the route to the next party, his big hands resting on your lower back to keep you close. He ducked his head to speak into your ear, as private a conversation as could be managed in the midst of a gaggle of people.

“I don’t think I’m gonna go,” he said simply. 

You shot him a “yeah fucking right” look and immediately shook your head. “No, baby, you’re going – that’s not even a question,” you argued, smoothing a hand across his broad chest. “I’m gonna head back and get some sleep, you’re gonna stay out as late as you can keep your eyes open, and that’s final,” you said, poking him in the sternum. 

His fingers ghosted up and down your spine as you spoke, and he smirked in amusement, knowing better than to continue to fight you on this. 

“Are you absolutely certain?” he asked. “Because you just say the word and I swear to god, we turn around and walk out that door and go back together right now.” 

You shook your head again, toying with his silver chain. “Absolutely not, Trav,” you reiterated. “I’m certain. This is a once-in-a-lifetime deal, and you’re gonna enjoy every second of it. And to be frank, I’m gonna pass out the moment my head hits the pillow, so it’s not gonna make a difference to me whether you’re there or not. Until morning, and you can go back to holding my hair back for me.” 

Travis giggled, and his long arms wrapped you in an all-consuming hug as he buried a kiss in your hair. “Gladly,” he stated, and you knew he meant it. He dropped another kiss to your forehead and added, “I love you so bad.”

You hummed appreciatively and tipped your head up to peck his lips. “I love you so bad,” you echoed. “This has been incredible, watching you shine. You were amazing, babe. I’m so proud of you.” 

The humility and delight in his eyes was overwhelming, and he cradled the back of your head to thank you with a passionate kiss, the kind usually reserved for private spaces. But this was a special occasion, not to mention how much alcohol your husband had consumed by this point, so you simply smiled against his lips until he pulled away for air. 

“Couldn’t have done it without you, my girl,” he said warmly. “Be safe. Text me when you’re in. I’ll see you soon.”

You nodded, squeezing his waist. 

“I will,” you promised. “Have a ball, 87.” 

_____

But truth be told, Travis did not have a ball once you had left him. Admittedly, he had watched your location on his phone incessantly while you traveled the short distance from the Mermaid back to your hotel, grateful that his mom had accompanied you, having had enough of the party for the night herself. Once he had watched the blue dot representing you reach the front of the hotel, then become stagnant once you had apparently reached your room and minutes later texted him “made it back, getting ready for bed - love you ❤️”, he tried his damnedest to focus on being present and enjoying himself, reminding him that this night was special, just as you’d said. 

But with every drink that was poured down his throat, with every celebrity he tried his best to entertain, with every introduction by somebody he was supposed to recognize to somebody else he was supposed to recognize, his thoughts were always, only, with you – whether you were asleep yet, how you were sleeping if so, if you had had enough to eat, how you were feeling. He’d spent so much time away from you this week because of the rigorous schedule of meetings and rehearsals that he just missed you with every fiber of his being – he swore it had to be biological, because anyone who knew Travis Kelce knew that he loved a party, especially one celebrating him. Though he’d never quite felt this way before, his heart simply wasn’t in it. 

Around 5 in the morning, he locked eyes with Jason and gave him the high sign, hand gesturing at his neck to indicate that he’d had his fill of the SNL pandemonium. Jason gave a knowing smile and nod, well aware of what was coming next – an Irish exit by his younger brother. Travis knew he would be there for another hour if he attempted to say goodbye to each and every person at the party, even just the ones he knew personally, and with his one-track mind focused solely on his exhausted pregnant wife back in his suite, he made the executive decision to dip out through a side door near the bathrooms. He quickly made his way to the car waiting for him, shared a nod with the driver, and climbed into the backseat. 

“How you doin’, man? Back to the hotel, please,” he requested. 

“Of course, Mr. Kelce,” the driver replied. “Do you need to make any stops first?”

Travis smiled softly and shook his head. “Not a one – thank you.” 

Finally, after what had to be the longest day of his life, he snuck back into the hotel unnoticed thanks to the accommodating staff, slipped in the door to the penthouse suite, quickly shed his outfit leaving on only his boxers, and snuggled into bed behind you, pressing his chest against your back. At his familiar touch and scent, you inhaled deeply and moaned softly, glancing over your shoulder and throwing him a sleepy smile.

“Hey, superstar, you made it back,” you greeted him, voice raspy and thick with sleep as your head dropped back to the pillow.

“Mmhmm, and I have been dreaming of this all day long,” he whispered, kissing a line from your shoulderblade, up your neck, along your jaw and ending at your temple. “Go back to sleep, sweet thing. I gotchu.” 

“Mmm, ‘kay. Love you, Trav,” you all but slurred, instantly slipping back into your slumber. 

He smiled so big it hurt his face, completely, wholly, overwhelmingly, blissfully content as his hand settled on your lower stomach where a baby bump was still weeks from appearing, your warm fingers lazily covering his. 

“I love you, mama.”

[itsmealaiah]

(God him without makeup makes me love him even harder)

Faking it (2010 Bill x Fem Reader)

A/n: thank you so much for the request! 😍 mwah

Summary: To get out of rehearsal practice, Bill fakes being sick to "hang out" in his room with you.

Tags/ warnings: smut, eating out, fingering, use of the word toy and degrading. enjoy ❤️

MDNI

Bill's POV:

Rehearsal was in less than an hour, and I haven't really felt like going, I wanted to spend time with y/n and relax. But that wasn't a solid reason to not go, so I was out of luck. Until, I remembered that being sick can get you a one to two-day break and pass out of it.

So that's where I am now, pretending to have a fever, lying down in bed. Y/n immediately began to take care of me as soon as I said I wasn't feeling all that well. She brought me soda, popsicles, and an ice pack to "bring my temperature down".

The band had felt bad for me too, saying I didn't have to do anything, just relax and take care of myself. Doing this was quite easy surprisingly. When it came time for the practice, y/n was with me the whole time. Usually, they last four hours, so I was plenty lucky. "Here drink this" She held a cup full of soda to my lips, and I drank it slowly.

"Feel any better?" She rubbed my arm gently. I shook my head, continuing to sip the drink. "Aw honey, it's ok" She cooed, laying beside me, holding onto my arm. I smiled weakly, nuzzling into her. "I'm gonna go get some medicine for you" She gave me a soft smile, getting up and walking out of the room.

I had a minute, so I ran over to the lights, dimmed them, and quickly rushed back to the bed. She came back in, medicine and another ice pack in hand. "Hey, what happened to the lights? Did you do that?" She eyed me suspiciously. "I did because I wanted to cuddle" I lowered my head in shame.

"Oh! I'm sorry" She hugged me, setting down the items. "But you gotta take the medicine soon" She commanded, holding onto me. I nodded, snuggling into her chest. "I'm not really sick" I whispered into her skin. "Did you say something?" She asked curiously. "I'm not sick," I said louder.

"What?" She gasped, backing away in anger. "I bought you all this stuff!" She huffed. Guiltily, my face dropped in sadness. "Before you say anything else, I just wanted to do something with you." She sighed, swiping her head with her hand. "What" She questioned. "I wanted to make you feel good," I say calmly, dragging her back onto the bed.

Her face became a light shade of pink, and I smiled. "How so?" She replied, nearing towards me. "Let me eat you out" I laid her back on the bed, straddling on top of her. Her eyes widened as I tore her small top off, leaving her lacy bra revealed to me, the cold air hitting her skin.

I pulled down her shorts and underwear, making her completely exposed to my lustful eyes. I began to kiss and lick at her neck, small but dark marks forming across the once-clean skin. She moaned in pleasure, hands grabbing onto my hair. "God schatzi that feels so good" I groaned.

"Keep doing that" I demanded, head trailing down to her chest. My lips wrapped around her soft nipple, kneading the other with my hand ever so slowly. My tongue was lapping and sucking the bud, each sweet little moan from her driving me insane. My eyes didn't leave hers as I continuously licked, I wanted to see how good I made her feel.

My fingers left the other nipple, going down to her slick, and plunged into her hole. She whimpered, beginning to squirm. I stopped my movements, which left her whining. "Don't move" I demanded once again, lips lifting off of her chest. I guided my head down to her heated core, where my fingers were making her cry out in pleasure.

"Am I making you feel good?" I asked, and she nodded rapidly. "That's good" I pulled my fingers out, licking them as she watched. My lips dove between her folds, starting out slow but quickly fastening. She arched her back, and my hand pushed her down. "Stay still, didn't you hear me before?" I mumbled, eyes gazing up to hers once again.

She threw her head back, eyes rolling. I smirked against her, tongue lapping at any and all juices spilling from her. "Oh Bill" She gasped out. "Keep praising me or I'll stop" I murmured against her, my words vibrating her gentle skin. "So good, so so good" She cried out as I sucked at her folds.

I dug my tongue into her hole, pressured by her hand pushing my head down. "such a good little toy for me, all mine" I sighed happily. Tears were streaming down her face as she uttered small moans and cries. Seeing her like this turned me on even more, deepening my tongue. "Gonna come soon" She screeched, holding onto my hair. I went faster, chasing her release.

"Come on my tongue schlampe" I ordered, and she did, her nails digging into my shoulders, sure to leave marks. I winced a little, collecting all her juices, and going up to kiss her. "Did so good" I smirked against her lips. "Might do that again sometime." My hand lifted her leg a little as she moaned into the kiss, absorbed by me.

I heard light chatter outside the room, meaning they were done. I had to hide her somewhere, so I tucked her small body under the covers, making sure no one could see any part of her. "Hey Bill" Tom spoke, opening the door. He looked around, trying to spot y/n. "Where'd y/n go?" He asked curiously, staring straight into my eyes.

"She's napping, she was exhausted," I replied quickly. "Oh okay, how are you feeling?" He walked over to me and sat on the bed, right on y/n's foot. She twitched a little, and I prayed to God he didn't notice. "Hey, something moved" He eyed me, pushing me aside and pulling down the covers just a smidge to reveal y/n's bare chest, she was napping.

"You weren't sick at all!" He exclaimed, angered. "Sorry, I just wanted to hang out with her," I mumbled. "And by hanging out you mean to do it with her, wow Bill" He walked out of the room, and I felt horrible. Y/n shifted a tiny bit, and woke up. "Hey Bill" She yawned, stretching. I guess she saw my sad expression, and hugged me. "What happened?" She whispered. "Tom found out I wasn't sick and got mad."

I didn't mean to hurt him, I just wanted to be with y/n. "I'll talk to him, don't worry" Her words comforted me, and I nodded, snuggling into her chest.

a/n: i loved this so much ❤️ 😍 i might write georg or gustav smut depending on my mood

[storywriter007]

Who Are You Trying to Convince? - Neymar Jr x Fem!Reader

summary: in which y/n figures out why neymar has been so distant

warnings: cursing, lying, flirting with ex, anger

genre: angst ending in heartbreak

word count: 1.5k

....................................................

"can we run the order one more time?" the fashion show director called out.

the victoria's secret fashion show was the highlight of the year for the brand, and they had to make sure it was perfect.

"this is just to make sure that we are consistent." he yelled out, clapping his hands.

the angels got back into place and began strutting down the runway again. y/n was looking forward to this year's show, the artists and the outfits were like never before.

after another hour or so, the rehearsals finished, and all the models were free to go home. in contrast to everyone else, y/n sort of dreaded the idea. she would see her boyfriend, and he had been distant lately. she'd tried talking to him, apologizing, fixing her behavior, going on dates, but nothing worked. he was just as distant as ever, and it sucked because they were reaching their six month anniversary.

he'd been distant from the start of the relationship, but instead of the distance slowly closing, it just kept getting bigger and bigger. as she got dressed and drove to neymar's house, she tried calling him but he didn't pick up. he must be busy, she assumed. however, when she got home, there was no one there. she called out for him, but there was nothing. she texted him too, no response. she figured he might've gone clubbing, since it was friday night.

....................................................

four hours had passed since y/n got to neymar's house, and she watched as the clock struck twelve. out of pure boredom, y/n decided to check the news.

it was the usual, political disagreements between parties, international news, and something about a new research study that had come out. she scrolled through the headlines until she found one that caught her eye.

famous footballer neymar jr. seen at club with ex-girlfriend, bruna marquezine!

y/n felt her stomach drop. she collected herself. bruna goes out on fridays too, they could've just been caught at the same place, and the paparazzi decided to make a story out of it.

she clicked on the article. there were photos. that was neymar and bruna for sure. the first photo was them both at the same club. the second one was them talking. the third was him pulling her hand away to an isolated corner. the fourth was them talking again, and his eyes really did give it all away. he looked at her with longingness and desire, and she returned the expression. the fifth picture was them going back inside. the sixth was a photo of them together, smiling. he had his arm around her shoulders as she leaned into him.

there were too many photos for this to be fake. y/n felt tears fill her eyes. is this why he had been so distant? because he wanted bruna back?

....................................................

at 1:30 is when neymar returned home. he came in laughing. y/n looked up from where she was sitting, a barstool near the kitchen counter.

"hi babe." he said, greeting y/n, which he hadn't done in weeks. "what're you doing here?"

"hey. missed you, so i decided to come." she smiled. "where were you?'

"club, couple of friends invited me to go get drinks." he explained.

"sounds fun! did you meet anyone else there?" she questioned, making sure to sound happy instead of angry and hurt.

"nah, just me and the boys." he brushed off.

"really? because every single news article is saying something else." y/n said.

they looked at eachother, dread instantly filling neymar's eyes.

"what are you on about now?" he asked, the change in his tone evident.

"famous footballer neymar jr. seen at club with ex-girlfriend, bruna marquezine." y/n read from the article.

he rolled his eyes.

"you don't actually believe that shit, do you?" he scoffed.

"i didn't, until six photos were shown. i didn't, until i realized you had ignored all my calls and texts. i didn't, until you started acting distant." she said, rage slowly beginning to seep into her voice.

"it's loud at the club, i'm sorry for not having superhearing. i'm sorry i get tired after running around all fucking day. and i'm sorry i ran into an old friend and said hi." he said, passive-aggressively.

"fuck off. you had to take her into a private corner to talk to her? you had to look at her like that? you had to take a photo with her where you're barely inches apart?" y/n spat, channeling his attitude back at him. "bruna's not just an old friend, she's your ex. if i did that shit, you would've yelled at me the minute i walked in."

"and what're you doing?" neymar chuckled. "i didn't want to talk to her in front of everyone, because i didn't want rumors to spread, but seemingly, they still did. i took a photo with her because she wanted me too. and how did i look at her?

"you looked at her like how you should be looking at your girlfriend, not your ex." she explained.

"she's not just my ex." he said. "long before she was an ex, she was a friend. and she's an established woman, don't act like she isn't. she's an actress, a model, a philanthropist, and a friend.i can't have friends now?"

"not when it's someone who clearly has romantic interest in you."

"so you're jealous?" he concluded.

"neymar! will you just fucking listen?" y/n yelled, not knowing where the sudden anger came from. "i'm your girlfriend so obviously, i'm going to get pissed off when you get a little to comfortable with your ex-girlfriend after you've been distant for the past couple of weeks!"

"oh my god, i was just being polite!" he yelled. "don't worry, the next time any woman comes up to me, i'll shove them off and say 'sorry, i have a girlfriend. please fuck off.'"

"but that's not what you said? you didn't even mention me because the way you were looking at each other and touching each other said everything!" she yelled back. she was not wrong here. "if i did this, you would be down my throat, and i would understand why, because i'm not supposed to be flirting with my ex when i'm in a relationship!"

"i wasn't flirting with her!" he yelled.

"then why don't you tell me what you guys talked about! prove it to me." y/n said, crossing her arms.

"we talked about our careers." he said. "she was the one saying we should meet up and we should go together, and i was the one who said no!"

"but you wanted to say yes! didn't you? you wanted to say yes." y/n whispered softly, feeling the anger turn into deep and utter sadness.

that look he gave her, that look spoke a million words he couldn't. a tear dropped from her eye. she hadn't cried in front of him for months. she quickly wiped away her tear.

neymar's attitude changed, the anger on his face softened to empathy.

"don't cry." he said.

"why, does it make you feel bad? does it finally make you see me as human?" she whispered. "does it hurt you or your ego?"

"that's not fair y/n."

"what's not fair is you dating me when you clearly still have feelings for bruna." she said, coming to a realization. "you never like me, i was just the next thing you could get to try. i was your replacement."

the tears started flowing again.

"no, no, y/n, you know that's not true." he said, walking over and trying to wipe the tears off her face, but she stepped back.

"who are you trying to convince? me or yourself?" she insisted.

of course she never felt close to him, because he was waiting for her to become someone she wasn't. he was waiting for bruna, one way or another.

"you've been dethatched from this relationship ever since it started, because you miss your last one. just do me a favor and admit so i can stop trying to make myself believe you somewhat care about me."

"i do care about you." he argued.

"really? what's my favorite color? when's the show? what's one of my hobbies? what's my favorite movie? when's my birthday?" she asked.

"your favorite color is (wrong color). the show is october 14. one of your hobbies is painting. your favorite movie is (wrong movie). your birthday is (your birthday)."

"really? because my favorite color is (your favorite color). the show is october 21. and my favorite movie is (your favorite movie)." she corrected. "now what's bruna's favorite color. when's her next film coming out? what's her favorite movie?"

"don't do this to me y/n." neymar said, regret clearly filling his eyes.

"answer neymar."

"pink. december 17. pixote." he said.

"and you remember all of that, don't you?"

"please y/n."

y/n shook her head.

"there's going to be a new headline tomorrow. feel free to explain to everyone why." she said, walking over to grab her keys.

"i love you." he said.

the words echoed throughout the house.

"no you don't." she chuckled, leaving through the front door.

[mikhailwrites]

The fire in your eyes / Ghost x Soap

Kinktober #19 - Uniforms

Military Parades. Everyone hates them. Instead of doing something useful and productive, you need to dress up and march in front of staring crowds. Nobody cares if it’s so hot the road is melting or so cold your eyes are freezing over. However, there might be a silver lining to this one: Johnny fucking MacTavish proudly displaying his Scottish heritage.

I'm writing this at 3AM, terribly sorry if it's even less coherent and has even more mistakes than usual. Btw did you know SAS has its own tartan? Well, now you do.

The door to the rec room opens, Ghost immediately checks them. And has to look away and back again. As if to make sure he’s truly seeing... that. Johnny. In a kilt. Not just the kilt, in fact, the whole getup.

Gaz whistles, eyeing the other Sergeant. “Looking sharp, mate! Got a date? Some pretty bird to impress?”

“Damn right, I do,” Johnny smirks as he momentarily looks at Simon. Oh, he likes to play with fire. But he does look sharp, Gaz is right about that. “But we gotta address the elephant in the room. Ghost in a uniform? What did you bribe him with? And the chest candy, too? Had to be expensive.”

“That would be classified, Sergeant,” Price appears out of nowhere, rivalling Ghost’s namesake. “I hope you boys are ready to make a good impression today.”

“Yes, sir!” they answer him in unison. They don’t have to like parades, but they all understand why they must be at their best.

It all goes smoothly; they’ve rehearsed it, after all, for countless hours. Even the weather takes pity on them and graces the parade with an overcast and reasonable temperature. They march, they do the show, people are applauding, a few are shouting some profanities as if a good portion of the parade doesn’t have a near-death experience. As if they didn’t hear the whistle of a bullet flying way too close to their head.

Ghost keeps his mind carefully clear. He performs as is expected of him, enjoys the fleeting moments he gets to see Johnny and tries not to count passing minutes. Then there’s a hymn, another march, and, yes, finally, they’re free. He needs a drink, as do the rest of One-Four-One. Drink, and then he gets out of the uniform. Every time he catches a glimpse of himself, he startles a bit until his brain catches up. God, he hates this.

As Simon nears the pub they had earlier agreed to meet, there is an unusual amount of noise and ruckus coming from inside—the sound of breaking glass and splintering wood, shouts and thuds. Ghost tags Price standing a little out of the way, leaning against the wall and smoking one of his usual cigars.

“Someone already managed to start a fight?” Simon asks as he comes closer, mildly impressed.

“Uh-huh,” Price nods. “We did.”

Ghost blinks a few times. Alright, he didn’t see that coming. “What happened?”

“Someone insulted Soap’s kilt and, if I got it right, even went as far as to say something about his mother. And you don’t just insult SAS soldier’s mum, do you?” Price asks a wholly rhetorical question. Ghost only nods, but then he looks around the deserted street.

“So, why aren’t you inside?”

“Plausible deniability. If I go there, I’ll have to clean up the mess and employ some disciplinary measures. You know the drill.”

“Want me to sort it out, sir?”

“Please do.”

That’s the only permission Ghost needs. He takes off the jacket, handing it to Price. He might not like it, but he sure as hell doesn’t want to get his measurements taken again for a new one.

It’s an absolute chaos inside. Luckily, Ghost thrives in chaos. He sweeps the pub from left to right, taking a quick and rough account of the situation. Gaz is to his right; two men are holding him up as the third takes a swing at him. It’s not a bad punch, Gaz’s head jerks to the side, blood from the split lip dripping on his uniform. As the assailant prepares for another swing, Ghost intervenes. This is his teammate right here, the man who’s saved Ghost’s life on numerous occasions.

Ghost moves quickly, sliding behind the man’s back and grabbing him by the collar, slamming him into the overturned table. The two blokes holding Gaz up look at Ghost, then at each other. There’s a hint of recognition. They let Gaz go immediately and try to charge Ghost, both of them at the same time. Not a bad thinking.

Ghost dodges one fist aimed at his stomach and trips the man. The other one lands a hit on Ghost’s kidneys. It hurts, but he’s used to pain. However, before Ghost can react, Gaz is there, kneeing the bloke in the stomach before sucker-punching him. Okay, that’s one-half of the job done.

“Where’s Soap?” Ghost barks out loud enough to be heard over the racket.

Gaz looks around. Numerous fights are going on, as is expected. There’s tension and rivalry between the military branches and the units. This sort of gathering is a powder keg. “I don’t…,” Gaz starts, trying to find their other Sergeant. “Oh….”

Ghost follows Gaz’s gaze, and… yeah. Oh.

Soap is lying on the ground, one guy’s neck held between his thighs while simultaneously doing a proper fist-assisted dentistry on another bloke who’s struggling to crawl away. Johnny looks like a rabid dog.

“You gonna need help with him?” Gaz asks, not making even a single move.

“Nah, get out of here, Price is waiting outside,” Ghost shakes his head, loosening his tie, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and tucking the sleeves up.

First, he frees the half-choked bloke before he kicks him further from Johnny. Then he grabs Soap and forces him to his knees, thus letting go of the second guy in the process. Ghost quickly glances at their uniform. Royal Marines. Of course. Ghost almost wants to kick them some more.

Instead, he does the reasonable thing worthy of an officer. He takes Soap and, much to the Sergeant’s protests drags him away. Soap is loud, cursing Ghost in that incomprehensible language of his, but even he isn’t so out of it as to hit Ghost, who also happens to be his commanding officer as well as a partner of sorts.

Ghost pretends not to notice and appreciate the searing heat in Soap’s blue eyes. Johnny doesn’t lose his shit nearly as often as many would think, yet when it does happen, it’s an absolute masterclass of carnage. And Ghost loves it. However, he can’t be thinking with his prick right now. They need to get out before someone with actual power shows up.

The ride back to Hereford is a short and quiet one. They stop at a petrol station and get some ice. Gaz is nursing his split lip and bruised jaw, Soap is pressing a handful of ice on the back of his head, where he claims someone hit him with a chair. He’s bleeding from the shallow cut on his forehead, and his left eye is beginning to swell. He got a thorough beating, but Ghost can’t help but think that he didn’t really save Soap. If anything, he saved those two poor bastards Soap was beating up. The Sergeant would probably eat them alive if someone didn’t stop him.

They get out of the car, Ghost immediately grabbing Soap and dragging him away. Price sighs, and Gaz chuckles.

Ghost is leading them to the barracks, to his room. The door closes, lock clicks in place. Johnny is dirty, bruised and bloody; his uniform is ripped in several places, too. He’s a damn mess, but Ghost has always had some seriously crossed wires. He’s been hard in his trousers for a while, and there’s no way he’s waiting a minute more to do something about it.

“Uh… Listen, LT, I’m sor…,” Soap doesn’t get to finish his apology before Ghost is on him, damn near devouring his mouth while his hand clutches at Soap’s thigh over the thick layers of tartan. Johnny lets out a slightly exasperated laugh as he backs up and falls onto the bed. Ghost follows, never allowing more than an inch of space between them. The new position allows him to reach under the kilt finally. He kneads at Soap’s bare thigh, remembering that he nearly choked a man with it. Fuck!

Ghost quickly undoes his belt and shucks his trousers down under his arse. “Lube,” he growls at Soap because the Sergeant is closer to the nightstand. Johnny does as he’s told, fishing out the bottle and handing it over with the same practised move as if he would hand Ghost a magazine.

“Prep?” Ghost asks, clipped and right down to the business.

“Fuck it, want you in me thirty minutes ago,” Johnny smirks. The fire in his eyes is back now. He didn’t get to rip the Marines apart, but now he might get that anger channelled in a different way.

“Wanted to be in you the moment I saw you in the morning,” Ghost retorts.

“You tell me the sweetest things, Simon. Hurry up!” Soap smiles, licking his lips as he watches Ghost fumble with the lube.

It burns a bit at first, then it hurts a bit more, but Soap is no virgin. Ghost is holding back a great deal, trying to go reasonably slow. Soap groans, but instead of pulling away or making any attempt to stop Ghost, he nudges him closer, whining as he forces himself to take more. Ghost is mesmerised, completely lost in him.

Johnny writhes under him, unable to stay still. Ghost’s prick halfway in is both too much and not enough, and it’s frustrating. Finally, he makes up his mind, hooks his legs behind Ghost’s back and demonstrates just how much strength there really is in his legs.

Ghost gasps and moans, Soap whines, arching his back off the bed, struggling to take a breath for a few seconds. “Christ, Johnny,” Simon wheezes, struggling to control himself and the situation. Scratch that; he doesn’t control the situation at all. Soap does, especially once he adjusts and simply uses Ghost to take what he needs.

Simon doesn’t mind. He would be willing to give this man anything he could desire. Anything at all. Simon would cut out his own cold, cold heart and gift it to him. He would burn down the world. For now, it seems that his cock will suffice.

Soap, for the lack of better words, fucks himself on it, and the kilt, rumpled and tucked up, leaves exactly nothing to the imagination. Johnny shivers as the glistening glans of his hardon rubs against the wool, but Ghost does nothing to help him.

If he did, it would’ve been over way too quickly. Instead, he leverages Soap’s hips, changing the angle significantly. Soap yelps before hissing an ecstatic “Yes!” Soon enough, more words follow. Please and harder are especially frequent, and Ghost does give it to him.

Snapping his hips forward at a punishing pace, he gets a lovely gasp each time he bottoms out. Johnny is clawing at the sheets with one hand and at Ghost’s forearm with the other. Come morning, he will probably look like a wild cat mauled him.

It’s a sweet kind of pain. Johnny will feel him for a few days; it’s only fair Ghost will, too. Simon feels the tension build up inside him; his thrusts are slower but firmer, forcing a breath out of Soap, who looks like half of his mind is wandering elsewhere. Eyes hooded, mouth hanging open, face slack in that special way only a good shag can do.

“’M close,” Ghost warns. Or maybe it’s a promise, what with the way Johnny’s legs hold him tighter, trying to force him deeper. Simon blindly searches around until he finds the lube, pouring a little into his palm before he grips Johnny’s neglected prick. It’s hot and hard, velvety, with prominent veins that make Ghost’s mouth water as he remembers how it feels in his mouth, on the tip of his tongue. How Johnny tastes, how his hand in Simon’s hair feels. Simon cries out, a broken sound of utter relief, as he pumps into Soap with each pulse that wrecks his body, coming inside him for what feels like an eternity but is mere seconds.

His hand slacks, but Soap covers it, tightens the grip and continues to fuck into Simon’s fist with quick, erratic thrusts. He’s close, his breathing ragged, his brow furrowed with desperation and concentration. Simon moans as Soap rides his oversensitive cock.

Even in his post-orgasmic state, Ghost feels the faint rush of excitement as he watches Soap coming undone and, a few seconds later, actually coming, soiling his uniform, jacket, kilt, shirt, all of it. Ghost lets them both breathe for a few seconds before Johnny lets go of his hand; Simon, in turn, let’s go of Johnny’s cock, and brings his hand to his mouth. Johnny makes a small, helpless noise as he watches Ghost lick the cum off his fingers and palm.

Simon collapses on the bed next to Johnny, exhaustion catching up to him quickly.

“You’re beautiful,” Simon whispers, unable to stop himself.

Soap stares at him for a moment before he snorts. “Aye, damn right I am, what with the black eye, all bloodied and bruised.

“You’re prettiest when you’re bloodied and bruised. And angry, I like you angry,” Ghost continues, his filter completely fried. Johnny would probably tease him about it later, but for now, he can say whatever he wants.

[samaraannhan20]

Harry Styles Imagine: College AU! College Visit

A.N.: I write what I know. I am a music education major with a theater minor. I’m sorry if this makes it hard for you to imagine yourself in this scenario. Please do not leave me any hate. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. Thank you :) 

Warnings: 6 year age gap, reader is a college student, music and theater education major, reader is in choir and theater, and is currently in two productions

“H, are you sure that you, and your family, want to spend the day here at school with me?” I ask Harry over the phone, for probably the millionth time since he told me he was coming to see me while school was in session. “I’ve told you a million times, I can just skip classes and choir that day. They will understand.”

“Love, I’ve told you a million times, I want to see what your everyday life is like. And with having the day off before going back on tour, and my mom wanting to see you again, I can’t imagine a better way to spend the day. Besides, I’ve always wanted to sit in on a college class.”

“Okay, fine. You’re lucky you’ll be here on a day I don’t have a lot of classes. Imagine if you were going to be here on a two rehearsal day,” I say with a chuckle, and he chuckles in response knowing that my days are almost as busy on the same level as his. 

“Mondays really are your tame days, aren’t they?” he replies, and I can tell he is laughing. 

“Shut up. I’m already at the hotel, since you booked it under my name, that way you don’t have to check in, you can just come to the backdoor. My car is back there, and I left the driver door unlocked with the room keys in the console. Same for Jeff and Mitch, Sarah, and bubs. You’ll get here at 8 tonight?”

“Yeah, darling, Mum, Gem, and I will get there at 8 tonight. Jeff, Sarah, and Mitch as well. And of course they’ll have bubs with them. I think Jeff and the two of them mentioned they wanted to come to your choir rehearsal, if you don’t think that will cause too much of a problem,” he adds, knowing that it might cause a problem. 

“Um, no. It shouldn’t, at least. I’ve talked to both of my directors, and since it’s been out there since the summer that we are together they kind of figured it would happen at some point. The choir director already had me share about it on Friday, and then he is going to send out a reminder text in the morning. The choir is amazing at being focused, so I really don’t think y’all being there will cause any problems. And everyone at play rehearsal has known for weeks that you would be here tomorrow. The only problem I can see is with my focus, because I only have 36 hours with you,” and I say, sighing. “I’m really sorry I can’t be there for your birthday. I just can’t miss that test.”

“I know baby, I know. And I’m not upset at all. I’m glad we at least get this day together.”

“Yeah, but I feel like I should make it out for your birthday show. I don’t know. Maybe I can leave right after my test on Tuesday and drive out. I think my other teacher for that day would be super understanding. And then I could stay with you and come back after the Grammys,” I tell him, because I already had plans to attend the Grammys with him, I just wasn't going to walk the carpet. “Wait, you don't have another show until the Brit Awards on the 11th. Where are you going after the Grammys? You’ll have like four days off-ish. ” I asked him, realizing he had never told me where he was going until the Australian leg of the tour started. 

“Well, as you know my mum and Gemma are actually heading out after our visit with you, they’re leaving Monday night, right after your rehearsal. We have to head out to Englnd to make sure we’re there in time for rehearsals, since I’m also performing at the Brit’s.. I’m looking at Jeff’s GPS and it says we’re about two hours away from the hotel, so I’m going to hang up so you can study and finish up your homework before we get there. Do you want me to pick up take out on my way in?”

“No, unless you want some. I stocked the room with groceries since I knew, besides coming to my school, which is super small and no one will see you besides the people who have already signed NDA’s, we would be in the hotel room. Also, I stocked your mom and Gemma’s room, and the other’s rooms as well.”

“Darling you didn’t have to do that. I could have sent security to the store or something,” he tells me, and I can hear the stress in his voice. 

“No, really, it was no big deal. It wasn’t as much as I’m making it sound, because there is room service, and the really good Chinese take out place is right down the street from the hotel, so I can just pop out and get it.”

“I’m paying you back,” he says, and I know I will never win this argument, so I just sigh. “Now, go study and do homework. I’ll be there before you know it. I love you.”

“I love you too H. See you soon,” I say, and pull the phone away from my ear as he hangs up. Two short hours. I can handle two short hours. I stood up from where I had been sitting on the bed and crossed to the desk where I had  already laid out all of the materials needed set out, my study music already playing from where it left off when I first got the call from Harry. I picked up my music history book, and flipped it open to the page I was supposed to start reading on. It didn’t take long before I was lost in the world of music history, reading about Bach and Handel. It took about 20 minutes for me to finish  reading, before I closed that book and opened the next one. This time I had to read and write a response, so I knew it would take longer. 

After about an hour, I closed that book and my laptop, now finished with homework and not sure what to do. I decided to pick up my phone and look through my social media. 

Right before the news broke about Harry and I, I made all of my social media private, so that only the people in life that I trusted were given an insight into my life with him. I already rarely used social media, besides using snapchat to send updates to friends, so it wasn’t hard to make sure no one was on it. I decided to open snapchat, and saw that I had an unopened picture from Harry that I hadn’t noticed had been delivered. I quickly open it and see a super dorky picture of him in the car, with Gemma making a stupid face behind him. I laughed, and then snapped a picture of myself and sent it to him, after writing a message that said I had finished homework and was just waiting. 

After a few minutes of waiting for him to reply, I got bored and restless, and turned on the television, just flipping to some random channel that had a movie playing, and then sat down on the couch provided in the room. The sitting soon turned to laying, and the laying turned to hanging upside down because I’m just so restless that I couldn’t sit in one position for too long. I was sitting like that when I heard the key beep in the door, and then the door creak open. 

“Love?” I heard from my spot on the couch, and scrambled to move, which just caused me to fall on the floor, because I am nothing if not clumsy. 

“I’m in here,” I say, as I make it to my feet and as I spin to face the doorway, he steps in. “Harry,” I say his name like it’s my last saving grace, and it’s just a sigh that falls through my lips, and I run to him, jumping into his arms as he opens them, wrapping my legs around his waist. 

“Hi darling,” he says as he holds me, before pulling me into a kiss. When he pulls away the two of us just stare at each other, being happy just to see the other's face, after not seeing each other since Christmas. I drop my legs from around him, and he sets me down on the floor, still with our arms wrapped around each other. After a minute, he laughs and says “Did you fall when I walked in?” and I shove him away, also laughing. 

“Yes, don’t make fun of me,” I say, and pout my lips, like a little toddler. 

“Oh, darling,” he says and walks back towards me. “I’m not making fun of you, I just wanted to know if I needed to check for injuries,” he says, and wraps his arms around me again, kissing the pout right off, because when his hands, or any part of his body, is on me, I’m all smiles. Especially since it’s been a month since I saw him last. We stand there just exchanging small pecks and smiles back and forth for an unknown (to us) amount of time, happy to be together again. However, there is always someone that comes along to interrupt, and low and behold after some time, there was a knock on our hotel room door. I giggle and pull back from Harry as he groans, and turn to go to the door. He, however, has different plans, and only allows me to turn around in his arms, keeping them tight around my stomach, and pulling back as I try to walk to the door. 

“Harry!” I exclaim with a laugh, “let me go get the door. It’s probably your mom and sister, and I miss them too.”

“Not as much as you miss me though. Don’t let them in. Let it just be us for a little longer,” he says, tucking his face into my neck and kissing the place that he knows will make me weak in the knees. 

“No!” I exclaim with another laugh. “I’m coming!” I shout to the door, knowing that whoever is on the other side can hear everything that is happening. When he finally lets go of my waist, I stumble forward, and almost fall, but then he catches me, spins us so he’s the one at the door, and whips the door open. I run up behind him, rest my chin on his shoulder, and smile widely at the five people standing in front of us. “Hey guys!” I say with a smile, and pull Harry out of the way so that they can all enter the room. They all say hello and give me a hug as they walk by, after I shove Harry out of the way so I can hug Sarah. I hug Anne the longest, because she has become a mother to me. She and I wrap our arm around each other, and walk into the “living room” of the hotel room, and she kisses the top of my head before letting me go and playfully pushing me towards Harry, who is now pouting on the couch. I go and sit on his lap, sideways, with my legs hanging off the other side of him, and he wraps his arms tightly around my waist as I curl my arms around his shoulders. He gives me a quick kiss and we just sit there looking at each other while everyone else talks, in our own little world. At least, until Jeff says my name. 

“Y/N,” he says, and my head whips in his direction, fully intending to turn my attention to him. “What time is the first class that you have to be at tomorrow?”

“Well, I figured since Harry is only interested in my music classes I would skip my 9 am, which would make my first class be at 10:45. And the school is only like ten minutes from here, so Harry and I wouldn’t need to leave until 10:30. I figured I could drive us since my car is here, and then everyone else can drive to campus for choir at 12.”

“Okay great, and after that?”

“Well, choir is at 12, like I just said, but I’ll have like a 20 minute break between the end of class and the start of choir, so I thought I would bring Harry back to my apartment to see my roommate that isn’t in choir, and then we would head back over for choir.”

“I want to see your apartment,” Anne jumps in, and that makes me remember that she had mentioned it before. 

“Oh, yeah. Well, I’ll have an hour break after choir before my technical theater class, so you guys could come over then. Harry mentioned he also wanted to go to that class, so I thought he would and then we could come back to the hotel for a few hours before I have rehearsal. Who all is making an appearance at rehearsal?”

“I think we all wanted to go to that,” Sarah says, looking around the room. 

“Yeah,” Gemma jumps in, “it’s not everyday that you get to see your little brother’s girlfriend acting on a stage.”

I blush, saying “I’m nowhere near as good as Harry though. And it’s kind of a sad show. Are you sure?” They all nod their heads in response, and I blush even more. “Okay, when Harry and I see the director in tech theater I’ll let him know that everyone will be there.” 

“And everyone who will be at anything tomorrow signed the group NDA that I sent?” Jeff asks, and Harry rolls his eyes. I smack him on the arm, reprimanding him.

“Don’t roll your eyes Harry, it’s important,” I say, before turning my attention back to Jeff, “Yeah, they all signed it last week. Anyone who didn’t want to was excused from choir for the day. It’s just going to be a bunch of review, nothing new. But I think y’all will still enjoy it. I mean, it's nothing like you’ve been in or have seen a lot of, of course. Just plain old college students prepping for our semester concert. You’ll probably think it’s boring,” I say, knowing that I at times think it’s boring. Harry tightens his hold on me, and shakes his head. 

“I don’t think it will be boring. In fact, I think it will be quite fun. Like you said, it’s not what we experience often, which is what will make it fun. Now, now that we’ve talked all this out, will you lot please go to your own rooms so I can have some alone time with my girlfriend, who I will remind you, has not seen me since Christmas, and after this week won’t see me again for another month, until her spring break?” he asks, with a smile on his face, but they all know that he isn’t joking. Jeff shakes his head, before standing up. 

“Yeah, I guess we can. C’mon Mitch, Sarah,” he says, and they both stand up and head towards the door. 

“See y’all tomorrow!” I shout towards them, and the three of them turn and wave back at me. Gemma and Anne stand up after the others leave. 

“Well, we’re tired, so we’ll let you guys be as well,” Anne says, and I stand up to give them both a hug goodnight. “Love you, both of you,” Anne says as I hug her, and I squeeze her a little tighter when she says it. Harry also stands to give his mom and sister a hug, and then follows them to the door.  As he shows them out I head into the bedroom and grab my pajamas from where I had laid them on the bed earlier, and turn to head towards the bathroom, to do my nightly routine. 

“Where’d you go?” I hear him shout from the living room, and I laugh because as clingy as he is I really missed it when we weren’t able to be together. 

“In here,” I shout, leaning out the bathroom door, before ducking back in and continuing to tie my hair back, so that I could wash my face without getting hair in the middle of it. Just as I finish tying my hair back he comes into the bathroom and wraps his arms around me. 

“I wanted to cuddle,” he says with a pout, before leaning down and kissing my shoulder. I place my hands over his arms where they are resting on my stomach, and meet his eyes in the mirror, laughing. 

“I need to wash my face. We both know we will go lay down to cuddle and won’t get back up again until the morning, and with the Grammys coming up I cannot afford any breakouts, so I have to do my skin care,” I explain as I look at his pouting face.

“Does that mean you changed your mind and you will walk the carpet with me?”

“It means I’m considering it, but I’m not making any promises. Now, can I wash my face?”

“Can I do it?” he asks me, turning me in his arms so that I am facing him rather than the sink.

“Can you do it without getting soap in my eyes?” I ask him, because we have been in this position before and he has fully gotten soap in my eyes. He nods vigorously, and I give in, handing him the soap. He places it on the counter next to us and lifts me up onto the counter before stepping in between my legs and grabbing a wash rag. He spends the next ten minutes doing my skincare routine, and when he is done he steps back to admire his handiwork. 

“Beautiful.”

I laugh before saying, “yeah, okay. Can we go lay down and cuddle now?” and he picks me up from the counter and taps my legs to have me wrap them around his waist before he carries me into the bedroom. He sets me down on the bed, and then slips his clothes off before slipping into bed next to me in his boxers. Once he settles he reaches his arm out for me, and I curl up next to him as we fall asleep. 

The next morning I wake up to a knocking on the door, and gently slip out of Harry’s arms and rub my eyes as I walk towards the door. I look through the peephole before opening the door, and groan when I see Jeff standing there with three coffees in his hand.

“Jeff. what the heck,” I say with a groan when I open the door. “We don’t have to leave for another… what time is it?”

“8,” he replies with a little laugh.

“Another two and a half hours. Why are you here?”

“I brought coffee,” he says, shoving the one I know is meant for me towards my face. “It’s a peace offering, because I need to talk about some business stuff with H for a bit.” At that I roll my eyes before responding. 

“You get to wake him up. I’m taking my coffee and taking a shower,” I say, and open the door far enough to let him in, before dropping it and slowly walking back to the bedroom, before beelining for the shower. I take my time in the shower, hoping that by the time I get out they will be done with whatever business they needed to talk about this morning. I’ve just gotten to rinsing my hair for the final time, when Harry knocks on the bathroom door. 

“Love, Jeff left. So you can finish up and get out, if that’s what you were waiting for. Also I grabbed the clothes you had set out last night. You forgot them when you came in here this morning.”

“Thanks H. I’ll be out in a minute,” I say, as I switch the water off and reach for my towel. I dry off and get dressed fairly quickly, because I am unaware of exactly how much time I spent in the shower, and I’m not sure if H is going to shower this morning. “Hey, babe, what time is it?” I ask as I walk into the bedroom, with the tail end of the coffee Jeff had gotten me in my hand.

“Uh, 9:45. When did you say the two of us need to leave?” 

“10:30. Were you going to shower this morning?” 

“Yeah, but it won’t take me long. I’m going to go hop in now,” he says, and as he walks by me he grabs my face for a quick kiss. I laugh as he pulls away, and playfully smack his ass. 

“Go get in the shower. I’ll still be here when you get out. In fact, I'll probably be drinking an energy drink, since last night was such a late night and then Azoff so kindly woke me up with his knocking on the door,” I say with a roll of my eyes. 

“I already sent Jeff to get you another one. He should bring it soon. I sent him to get it as he left because I knew you would want another one. I know you darling,” he says, and then closes the bathroom door to shower. I sit down on the edge of the bed and put on my shoes, before chugging the end of my coffee and then flop back on the bed. I’m probably lying there for a grand total of two minutes before there is another knock on the door. I stand and walk to the door, open it without looking, and hold my hand out for the coffee. 

“Thank you Jeffrey,” I say, and close the door. “See you later!” I shout, knowing he is still standing out there, and with a quick look through the peephole I see him shaking his head at me. I laugh and head back into the bedroom to wait for Harry, but when I get back in there he is already in the room, and as I walk in he is pulling his sweat pants up. “Ya know? I like you better without the pants.”

Harry laughs at me, and turns to face me. “And I like you better without the clothes you have on right now. But we have to get you to school, Miss college student,” he says as he crosses the room and pulls me into his arms. 

“I know, I know. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t a college student because then I could go on tour with you.”

“Yeah, me too. But I know that you wouldn't be content just sitting on a tour bus all the time. Which is why I force you to do your homework and pass your classes, because you and I both know that you don’t just want to be a trophy wife. And I want you to be happy,” he says, and then lifts my chin and pulls me into a kiss. After we pull away we just sit there looking at each other, because neither of us wants to end this moment. Unfortunately, there is a knock on the door, and Harry begrudgingly pulls away to go answer the door. As he walks towards the door, he says over his shoulder, “tonight, it will be just us, and we will explore this no-clothes idea.” I laugh as he opens the door to his Mum and Gemma standing in the hall. “You guys are up early,” he states. 

“Well, Mum wanted to see what the clothing vibe for today was, since it's been a bit since she was on a university campus,” Gemma says as she walks into the room, spots the coffee in my hand, and holds her hand out for a sip. 

“You won’t like it,” I say as I hand it to her, knowing that we have two completely different coffee tastes.  She takes a sip anyway and immediately makes a face and shoves the drink back to me. Anne and Harry laugh as I say, “told ya,” with a smirk on my face. She playfully smacks me, and then turns back to the conversation. “Nothing formal. You’re just coming to watch the choir rehearse. No big deal. It’s college. No one dresses nice unless they have to. This is what I’m wearing,” I say and motion towards my outfit. They both nod their head, and as they do so I wrap my arms around Harry from behind, and rest my chin on his shoulder. “H and I need to leave soon, so did y’all have anything else you needed?”

“Oh, right. I forgot the two of you were leaving before everyone else,” Anne tells us, and begins to head for the door. “We will see the two of you later then,” she says and then the two of them duck out the door, and it closes behind them. 

“Well,” I say, stepping around Harry so I’m facing him. “I think we should head out soon. Give my classmates, all three of them, time to fawn over you before class starts, so that by the time class starts they’re over it,” I say with a laugh, and he pulls me into him, and digs his face into my neck.

“They won’t really do that will they?” he mumbles, and I pull back to get a good look at him. 

“Um, I can for sure say that Nat won’t, because she’s my best friend. As for the other two, I’m not sure. I honestly think choir might be worse. But, every single one of them has signed an NDA so at the very least nothing will be leaked and we won’t be swarmed by paparazzi.” He just nods and pulls me back into him, kissing me gently. 

“I’m excited to finally meet Nat in person. She’s like all you talk about,” he says, laughing. 

“Well she thinks that you’re all I talk about. It’s going to be hilarious how much the two of you already know about each other because of me.” He just laughs again, before pulling away and grabbing my hand, leading me out the door and to the car. He opens the driver side door for me, and kisses me one more time after I get in before shutting it and crossing to the other side of the car and getting in the passenger side. My phone immediately connects to the bluetooth, and starts playing the last thing I had listened to in the car, which just so happened to be Harry’s House. I whip my head to the side and look at Harry, and we both just crack up. I hand him my phone so he can change it, and after a minute or two he changes it simply to my road trip playlist, even though this is only a 15 minute drive. He turns it down, and we chat the whole way to campus. When we get to campus I park outside of the building we are heading to, and we just sit there in silence for a moment. 

“This is going to be great. You get to learn a little music history,” I say and unbuckle my seatbelt and turn to him, “and meet my mentor, and my best friend. All in one class period. And then we get a 20 minute break before choir.” He leans across the console and grabs my face in his hands, and pulls me in for a kiss. “Are you nervous?” I ask as we pull apart. 

“Uh, yeah. But not too bad. Mostly about meeting Nat, like I said before,” he says, looking at his lap sheepishly. 

“She’ll love you,” I say, before leaning across the console and kissing him again. “We need to go in though. Will you grab my backpack out of the back? I’ll grab our cups,” I ask, and he nods, opening his door and getting out. I open my door and then grab our cups, before stepping out of the car. We clasp our hands together, and make the short walk to the building my class is in, and when we enter I give him a little tour. “Here are the practice rooms, here is the lab, with our book cubbies and computers. And this is the Piano teacher’s office/classroom.” We turn and walk down the hallway until we enter the small classroom that my class is held in. “And this is the classroom. Everyone should be here soon. I sit here, you can sit in the chair I usually put my bag in,” I tell him as I pull out the chair for him, and let him cross behind me before pulling my own chair out and sitting down. “So, what do you think of the building so far?” I ask, turning to face him when I finished digging my book out of my bag and set it on the table. 

“It’s small. I mean, I knew it was small, but it’s tiny,” he says, emphasizing the tiny. I laugh, and go to respond, but as I do that someone walks through the door.

“Nat!” I exclaim and wave for her to come sit down. “This is Harry, as you know,” I tell her with a small chuckle. 

“Oh yeah,” she says, also laughing, “I’ve heard a lot about you,” she tells him.

“And I you,” he says with a smile. The two sit and talk, while I just smile and listen, happy that the people I am closest to have finally met. Before long the other two people in the class trickle in, and finally the teacher. He plops his book down on the table, before holding his hand out for Harry to shake. Harry stands and reaches across the table to shake his hand. 

“I’m Dr. Percival, but they call me Dr. P, and you can as well,” he says as he shakes Harry's hand, and drops it before continuing. “And I’d assume that you are the infamous Harry that Y/N can’t shut up about?” he says with a teasing smile.

“That’s me,” Harry says with a smile as he sits back down. I push the book  in between Harry and I  so that he can follow along as well, and hand him one of my purple pens to mark in the book whenever needed. 

“He’s not going to distract you, is he Y/N?” 

“No, it’ll be fine. I do my homework with him all the time,” I  say with a slight chuckle, and everyone else chuckles as well. Dr. P nods his head, and then dives into the book. Throughout the class period both Harry and I make many marks in the book as the class goes on. At the end of class, Dr. P closes his book and turns to Harry. 

“I hope you enjoyed that Harry. You seemed to be pretty into it,” he says with a smile in Harry’s direction.

“It was very interesting,” Harry replies, smiling back at the professor. 

“You’re joining us to visit in choir, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Along with my Mum and sister, and my manager and two best friends slash bandmates,” Harry says with a laugh. 

“Well, I will see you then. Enjoy your little break everyone,” Dr. P says as he heads out the door. As he leaves, you, Harry, and Nat all stand up. 

“I think we’re,” I  motion to Harry and myself, “going to run back to my apartment so I can eat a snack before choir,” I finish, and then grab Harry’s hand to pull him with me. Nat waves goodbye, and I head out the door with Harry in tow. The two of us walk in silence on the short walk to my building, our joined hands swinging in between the two of us. When we get back to my apartment, I drop his hand, and walk over to the kitchen cabinet. “Want a snack?” I ask him as I fished around in the cabinet for the snack I was  looking for. 

“Yeah, come here,” he says from where he was standing. 

“Um, the snacks are over here doofus. How am I supposed to get us a snack if I’m over there?” I respond, and then grab what I was looking for, turning to look at him, the snacks in  hand. I walk over to him as I open my snack and take a bite, waving the one for him in front of his face. “See, now I can come over here,” I say around the bite of food I have in my mouth, swallowing as I hand him his.  He laughs, taking the food from my hand, and then pulls me into him. He leans down and kisses me deeply, before pulling away and taking a bite of the open granola bar in my hand. “Hey!” I exclaim in response as he opens his own granola bar. “You owe me a bite of that. And what was up with the kiss?”

“I like watching you in your element, like you were in that class. And how carefree you were as we walked over here. I never feel like I can be carefree, unless I’m with you. Then it feels as though it’s just the two of us,” he says, wrapping his free arm around my waist as we both snack on our granola bars. I finish first, and just stare off into the distance as I stand there, thinking about what he just said. 

“At first, when we first shared our relationship, I was always on edge walking around campus, because you never know who is watching, and what is going to be turned into a magazine or something. But then I decided I don’t deserve to live on the edge, so now I don’t care. And you shouldn't either, Babe. people are going to say what they want to say, and there’s nothing you can do about it. And this campus is a safe space, there’s no need to be worried here,” I tell him, and then I completely wrap myself up in him. We just stand there in a hug for a minute, before he speaks up. 

“I’ll do my best to be carefree the rest of the day here. I can tell that it’s a safe space,” he tells me, and then places a kiss on the top of my head. We stand there for a bit longer, but then I pull away. 

“We have to get to my choir rehearsal,” I say as I grab his hand and begin to pull him to the door. We hold hands again on the way to the rehearsal hall, walking in silence again. As we walk I see the other choir members being to trickle into the rehearsal building, and I watch as a few of them notice the two of us walking across campus. As we get to the building, we walk in, and I immediately see Anne and Gemma, and Jeff, Sarah, and Mitch. Sarah is holding the little guy, and as soon as he sees me and Harry he reaches out for me. I laugh and drop Harry’s hand, grabbing the little guy from Sarah. “I can’t hold you the entire time little one,” I say to him as I carry him down the hall, and just assume that everyone is following me. “But I can hold you for now.” The seven of us arrive at the end of the hallway, and Jeff opens the door for all of us, and I walk in first, with the others walking in behind me. Dr. P sees me as we walk in, and, after telling the others where they can sit, pulls me aside for a second. 

“Would you be okay making a little announcement, just kind of introducing everyone to the choir? I want this to be as normal of a rehearsal as possible, and I think that might help a little,” he says to me, and I respond with a “one second,” before walking over to the group sitting at the only table in the room. 

“Jeff, H, would it be okay if I make an announcement? Maybe each of you will introduce yourself shortly? Dr. P thinks that might be the best way to have as close to a normal rehearsal as possible.” Jeff and H look at each other, having one of their silent conversations, and then turn back to me. 

“Yeah, I think that will work,” Jeff says to me, and I thank him, before heading back over to Dr. P. I tell him that they said it would be okay, and he thanks me before turning to answer a student that had a question. I walk back over to the six of them, and hand the little guy to Sarah, before crossing back to Dr. P as he gets everyone’s attention. Once he does, he tells them that I have an announcement, and then points to me, before sitting in his chair for a moment. 

“Hey guys,” I start with a little chuckle. “As you can tell, we have some guests here. Um, I know everyone knows who they are, especially since everyone in here is a huge music person, but they’re going to shortly introduce themselves. One thing that I ask is that you treat them like you would treat any other visitors we have. They’re like my family, and are just here for a short visit to see what my everyday life is like,” I finish. Then I walk over to Jeff, who is sitting on the end, walk behind, and hover my hand over his head. “First is…” I trail off, and Jeff takes over, introducing himself. I then hover my hand over each of them, and end with Harry at the other end. 

“I’m Harry,” he says, and you think he is done, but he keeps going. “I appreciate you guys allowing us to be here today, and just treating us like normal people, because, although we are famous, we're still people. I’m excited to hear the music you all create,” he says, and then he looks up at you, signaling that he’s done. 

“Again, thank you guys for being normal and treating them like they are real people, because they are. Back to you Dr. P,” I say, and then go and stand in my spot on our risers. He thanks me for doing that, and then starts our rehearsal like normal. 

The rehearsal winds up being exactly like normal, until after it’s over. It’s then, as I pick up my binder to go put it away, that I notice a line has formed in front of Harry and the others. I drop what I’m holding and run over there. 

“What the heck y’all? You were doing so good at acting like it was normal. What are you doing?” I screech as I get over there and stand in front of Harry and the first person in line, blocking him from them with my body. 

“You never said we couldn’t get autographs after rehearsal,” James, the guy at the front of the line states. 

“Yeah, because it goes without saying. Shoo. He’s not here for your entertainment. So leave him, and everyone else alone!” I shout, and then Dr. P whistles to get everyone’s attention. 

“Everyone, away from Y/N’s guests. We agreed to treat them like normal, and this is not treating them like normal. Everyone put your stuff away and go to your next class. Now!” he tells them, in the voice that makes all of them aware of how serious he is. Slowly, they all turn and put their stuff away and head out the door. After everyone is gone I turn and wrap my arms around Harry’s waist, and bury my face in his neck. 

“I’m so sorry. I thought they would be fine. I never thought they would do that,” I mumble into his neck, and he whispers an “Its okay,” into the top of my head as he rests his head there and wraps his arms around me. 

“I’m sorry everyone. They will be getting a very firm speech tomorrow. Heaven forbid they act like celebrities are just people,” Dr. P says, looking from one person to the other.  “And since James was the leader of the pack I will be calling him into my office to have a conversation. Again, I’m sorry. Have a good rest of your day everyone,” he finishes, and then leaves the room. None of us move, and I think that they don’t move simply because I am not moving. 

When I finally pull away from Harry, I shoot a small smile towards the others. 

“I’m really sorry you guys.  I expected them to be able to act like normal. If y’all don’t want to come to the rehearsal tonight, I understand.”

“No, we’re coming,” Harry butts in. “You've told me yourself that the cast is really small, and they're all your good friends, so I do not expect them to behave like the choir did. It will be fine. Everyone that was planning on coming to rehearsal, which I think was only me and… wait, no. We were all coming. Sarah, Mitch, Jeff, if you don’t want to come then that’s fine. But, Mum, Gemma, I really want you to be there, and Y/N won’t say it, but she also wants you to be there.” I watch the thoughts cross everyone’s minds, and then Sarah pipes up.

“I still want to come. I mean, you’re really close to production, right?” I nod my head, and then Sarah starts speaking again. “When will we get another chance to see Y/N in a show? We’re always touring, and when we aren't we’re all in our own homes, towns, so on. So, I will be going. And if I go Mitch will. So, Jeff, you’re the only one still debating. C’mon. After next week Mitch and I are taking a break, and everyone else will be in Australia.”

“Yeah Jeff,” I say, looking at him. “When else will you get to see me be the lead?” I ask, with a tilt of my head and the look Harry has named my “puppy dog” face, because I use it at any moment where I want something. In fact, that look is part of the reason Harry and the team had come to visit.

“Fine. You have a point,” Jeff says, and then playfully shoves me. “Now drop the puppy dog look. You got your way,” he says with a smile. Everyone gives a little cheer, and then I clap my hands together to get their attention. 

“Okay, y’all wanted to see my apartment, and due to our little kerfuffle and then conversation we now have only…” I trail off as I grab Jeff’s arm and check the time on his watch. “40 minutes before Harry and I are supposed to be in tech theater class, so we best get going if you want to see it,” I say, before grabbing Harry’s hand and dragging him towards the door. He stumbles after me, and we make it outside before anyone else. He pulls me into him and we stand there with my head resting on his shoulder and his head resting on mine while we wait for everyone to make it out the door. 

“I can’t wait to finally be alone again,” he whispers to me, and just as the words leave his mouth everyone else makes it out the doors, so I just pull back and peck his lips, before moving away. 

“Okay, my apartment is right over there,” I say with a point, because my building is just across from the rehearsal hall. “But, if everyone is going back to the hotel when we go to class, then I suggest y’all drive over there. The parking lot is in the back. We can walk over and I’ll let y’all in when you get there,” I tell them, and they all nod before heading to the car Jeff had rented for all of them. We watch as they pile in, and then Harry takes my hand and we walk to the building. This time we make small talk as we walk over, and I ask him what he thought about rehearsal. 

“It was so different from what I had been imagining. I understand now why you’re always worn out afterwards, and why you take a 1 o’clock nap everyday,” he says with a laugh, and I chuckle along with him. “And Dr. P is so intense in rehearsal.”

“And that was a good rehearsal,” I tell him with a small smile. “Imagine what a bad day is like,” I say, and he grimaces and shakes his head. 

“At least you know what you’re doing, and you know you’re not one of the people he gets upset with on the bad days.” I nod in agreement, and then open the door to the building to let him in. As we walk in I see the others standing outside the doors to the parking lot, and I let out a loud laugh as I run across the entryway to let them into the building. “Sorry,” I say to them, still laughing as I open the door. “We were walking slow because we were talking,” I tell them as they walk past me. They all nod or murmur in understanding, and I lead them to the elevator. “Those are our mailboxes,” I say, pointing to the alcove full of postboxes next to the elevator. “If we get a package we get a slip put in there and then we go to the campus postoffice with our slip to get our package,” I tell them, and then realize that I just explained how a PO box works. “I’m sorry. You definitely already knew that was how a PO box works,” I say with an awkward chuckle. Anne walks to me and gives me a one-armed hug. 

“You’re just nervous. I was too, the first time I invited people to my house,” she tells me, and then gently squeezes my shoulder. I smile in appreciation, and then the elevator doors open and we all step on. I press the button for the third floor, and grimace as the doors take forever to close. 

“Sorry, our elevator is super slow. At least you’re not here on a day that it’s broken,” I say to them as it starts to move. “Week before last it was broken, and I was almost certain no one told the building supervisor, because there was no out of order sign on it. I thought we had all just adapted and started taking the stairs.”

“Everytime I called her,” Harry says, starting to laugh as he starts to tell a story, and I start to blush because I know exactly what he’s going to say. “She would complain about having to take the stairs, and would say she was going to start sleeping in the lobby until they fixed the elevator. They wound up fixing it on a Saturday,” he says as the elevator stops and we all step out and I begin to lead everyone to my apartment at the end of the hall. “and it was night when she got back and realized, so after my show ended I had a selfie of her in the elevator that said ‘I don’t have to sleep in the lobby!’” He tells the story with a smile, continuing as we walk down the hall to my apartment, and I hide my face in his arm as he tells it, hoping that no one is seeing how hard I’m blushing. Everyone gives a slight chuckle as the story ends, and while they're laughing I slide my key into the lock and open my apartment door, holding it for everyone to come in. I watch them take in the small apartment, because it is a school provided apartment, and begin to overthink about how small it is and that they may not like it, and just as I start to get into my own head, Gemma speaks up. 

“Y/N,” she says with a huge smile on her face as she turns to look at me. “This apartment kitchen is so cute! You did such a good job decorating.” I blush as she says it, and then feel Harry wrap his arms around me. 

“This is just the kitchen and  common space. Wait until you see her room,” he says, and then points the women in the direction of my room. I laugh as I see that Jeff and Mitch, who has little guy in his lap, are just sitting on the couch, obviously not caring about decorations. Harry unwraps himself from me, places a kiss on my forehead, and then goes to join the guys in the living room. I laugh again, and then head into my room. 

“Wow,” Sarah says the moment I walk in. “This is so impressive.” 

“Thanks,” I quietly say, blushing because I hate being complicated. 

“No seriously,” Gemma says, standing in front of my desk area. “How did you make this work in such a small space?”

“Well, I played a lot of Sims when I was in high school, so I got kind of good at interior design,” I say with a laugh. “Want to see what I did with the bathroom?” They all nod, and I show them that room, and then, after they tell me how much they love it, we walk back into the living area. “Well, that’s the apartment,” I say as I sit down on the arm of the chair Harry is sitting in. “Hey, babe,” I say, turning slightly to look at him. “What time is it?”

“Uhm, 1:45. We should probably head to your class, yeah?” he asks, and I nod in response. Everyone who was sitting stands up, and we head for the door. I lock the door behind us as everyone heads for the elevator. When we get to the lobby I give everyone a hug goodbye, before Harry and I head out the opposite doors, heading back to the building we had left not that long ago. 

Technical theater turns out to just be more painting for the set of the show we are currently working on, and for an hour Harry and I paint the set, with the other people in my class. When that’s over we head to my car, and I drive us back to the hotel to get changed, and then we meet everyone in the lobby of the hotel and head to dinner before we all go to my rehearsal. 

After dinner we head back to the school, and, luckily, the seating in our theater had been set up the day before, so rehearsal turns into a basic performance for me and everyone in the cast. Before rehearsal starts, I introduce the other people in the cast to Harry and the others, even though most of the people were also in choir. We as a cast do our warm-ups, and then I head backstage to get ready for my first entrance. 

Throughout the rehearsal, every time I come off stage, I go around the side of the set wall, and make a face at Harry. He laughs quietly every time, and Anne slightly hits his shoulder each time, making me laugh.  After rehearsal ends I say goodbye to my cast mates, and then we all pile into the car as Jeff drives to the airport, in order to send Gemma and Anne off. Harry and i get out at the airport to say goodbye, and then we drive back to the hotel. After we get back to the hotel, Harry and I say goodnight to everyone, and then duck into our hotel room. As soon as the door shuts behind us Harry pulls me into him, and pulls me into a deep kiss. 

“Thank you for inviting us,” he says when he pulls away. “I know it’s hard for you to open up to other people, especially when it comes to your acting and singing. But thank you.” I blush and smile, before grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a deep kiss. He taps the back of my legs, and I jump into his arms as he carries me into the bedroom, closing the door behind us, just in case. 

In the morning, when I wake up, I shoot a text to Jeff. 

Hey, make sure you have a pass for me at the ticket booth tomorrow night. I’ll drive out as soon as my test is over.

[stardustshelb]

"If It Kills Me" - Jake One Shot

TW: Language. Your name (female) + Jake. 6,339 words.

The song "If It Kills Me" by Jason Mraz inspired me to write this story; each part of the story is inspired by a different part of the song.

Part One

"It would be such a beautiful moment to see the look on your face,

To know that I know that you know now.

And baby that's a case of my wishful thinking.

You know nothing." - JM

You’re sending me one-worded texts. You’re probably busy. At least that’s what I’m telling myself because why else would you be responding like you’re mad at me? I haven’t done anything to make you angry. If you knew I was spiraling and overthinking like this, you’d probably throw in an emoji, a gif, something to ease my mind. I decided to stop dwelling on the “ok” and “lol” replies and put my phone away. I’m clearly distracted and the last thing I need is Danny getting angry if I throw the tempo off again. 

“Let’s run through that one more time,” Josh said into the microphone. I normally am the serious one who takes control of our practices, but I wasn’t feeling it today. We were going on four hours of rehearsal for our upcoming tour. I was exhausted because I stayed up too late, but that’s the sacrifice you make when the love of your life lives in a different time zone. I listened to Danny count us in, “One, two, three, four,” and began playing my guitar. I tried to focus on the music but thoughts of you kept creeping in. 

When rehearsal finally ended, I checked my phone hoping to see your name on my screen. Nope. You left me on read. Thousands of notifications plague my screen but the one notification I was looking for was nonexistent. I started replaying the last parts of our conversation last night; if you were mad at me for something I said, I truly couldn’t remember. I put my phone in my back pocket and finished packing my stuff up for the day. We had to be back bright and early tomorrow, so thankfully I didn’t have to pack up all of my pedals and amps.

“What are you doing tonight?” Sam asked as he held out a ruby grapefruit White Claw to me. 

“It’s barely 2:00 in the afternoon, man,” I said as I waved his offer away. “Uh, I’m probably going to take it easy tonight and stay in.”

“That’s what you did last night,” Sam said as he shifted his weight to his other foot. He was clearly bummed that I wasn’t up for hanging out.

“Yeah, well, I’m trying to savor my nights at home before I spend them all on the road,” I said with a shrug. I loved touring and playing music more than anything, but I also loved sleeping in my own bed. I just wished you were here to share it with me.

“If you change your mind, call me,” he said as he placed the unopened White Claw down near my boot. He walked away before I could respond. I stared at the can and then grabbed it before walking out to the parking lot. 

When I got home, I took a quick shower and laid on the couch scrolling through the pictures in my camera roll. Our social media team has made several remarks lately that my Instagram was too “dry” and our fans were begging for more content from me. I never really pay much attention to the demands of keeping up an online presence on social media. I scrolled back to March of this year and smiled as I looked at the pictures from our quick trip to the beach. It was the last time we were able to spend time together as just the two of us. We spent four days secluded from the outside world in a condo in Santa Barbara. It was the highlight of my year. I found a picture you took of me when I was staring out into the sunset. My jeans were rolled up to my shins to keep from getting wet as the waves rolled in. I remember the water was so cold I thought my toes were going to turn black. You don’t smoke anymore, but you took a hit (or two) on the joint hanging out of my mouth. I didn’t know you took the picture of me at the time, but I’m thankful you did. If only you knew that at that moment I was cursing the sun for leaving and robbing us of another day together. 

The night passed by quickly. I still hadn’t heard from you and I was trying not to worry. It wasn’t like we were always in constant contact with our busy work schedules, but you should have texted me by now. I was fighting my eyelids to stay awake. I knew you had been working night shifts at the hospital recently, but I knew you were off. Our three-hour time difference really made things difficult for my sleep schedule. While it was almost 2 a.m. for me, I knew you would be awake and scrolling through your plethora of social media apps before getting ready for bed. 

I had an idea that normally worked when I needed a desperate way to grab your attention. I opened my Instagram app for the first time in weeks and hit the plus sign to make a post. I scrolled back to the picture you took of me on the beach and typed the caption, “The fleeting daylight gave me liberation though I longed for staying a captive on the sand.” I hit send and waited for the trap I set to work. I knew you had my Instagram notifications turned on.

I chuckled as I read the comments from fans who always posted the most unhinged shit. Even though my motive was to get a response from you, I still enjoyed reading the interesting comments. And as if I knew you better than you knew yourself, I suddenly was on the receiving end of your FaceTime call. 

“Hey,” I said as I propped the phone up on the pillow next to me. I fought the urge to display a smug smile.

“You have a typo in your Instagram caption,” you said. You had a toothbrush hanging out the side of your mouth and your hair was wrapped up in a towel. 

“Do I?” I asked, playing dumb. Any time I needed a response from you, posting a typo on social media worked 9 times out of 10. Josh just thinks I’m an idiot at this point.

“It doesn’t even make sense,” you said as you leaned down to spit off camera. 

“Fine, I’ll fix it,” I said as I reopened the app to make an edit to the caption. 

“You could have at least given me photographer credits,” you said. I fixed the typo and opened your FaceTime back so I could see your beautiful face full screen. You weren’t paying me any attention as you were doing your nighttime skincare routine. I didn’t care because I was still able to admire you. 

“You and I both know the insanity that would ensue if I tagged you in anything,” I said with a sigh. 

“That’s true,” you said.

“I miss the beach,” I said but fought to replace beach with the word you. Though, you would have seen it all over my face if you were looking at me. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t talk much today,” you said.

“I was beginning to think you were mad at me,” I admitted. 

“Why would I be mad at you?” you asked as you suddenly stopped rubbing moisturizer into your skin. You stopped looking at yourself in the mirror and stared at your phone–stared at me. I tried to remember what I was saying.

“I–uh–well, you know, you didn’t respond for hours, and uh, when you did, it was um–” I knew I was tripping over my words. I felt my face getting warm because I was flustered.

“I’m not mad at you, Jake. At least not at the moment,” you said with a wink. 

“You know I get into my head sometimes,” I said as I smoothed my hair back.

“Better than anyone. Ok, well, I wanted to pop on real quick to tell you good night,” you said. I could tell you were about to wrap up the call. I hated saying goodbye but I needed to sleep too. 

“Good night, y/n” I said as I watched you finish drying your hair.

“Good night, Jake,” you said before hanging up.

“I love you,” remained silently on my lips. 

Part Two

"Well you and I,

Why, we go carrying on for hours on end.

We get along much better,

Than you and your boyfriend." - JM

“You look like shit,” Josh said. Once again, another sleepless night robbed me of any rest and relaxation before another full morning of rehearsal. Thoughts of you mixed with anticipation for the new tour had my mind racing.

“Yeah, well, we’re twins,” I said as I stirred my coffee. “So, I guess you look like shit too.” I was fighting the urge to add a little whiskey to it if this was how practice was going to go. 

“This is the last practice of the week, so let’s not fuck around and waste any time today,” he added.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I questioned. I didn’t like what he was implying.

“It means get your head out of your ass and finish your coffee so we can get started,” he said. I could sense Josh was angry about something, but there was no telling with him. The smallest inconvenience could set him off. I bit my tongue and let him have his moment of misdirected anger. I finished my cup of coffee and started to plug in my guitar.

“Yesterday we stopped after ‘Frozen Light’ so let’s move on through the rest of the set list,” I said.

“Well, then you’re plugging in the wrong guitar,” Josh said. Confused, I glanced at the taped setlist on my side of the stage and realized our B stage performance was next. 

“Oh, yeah,” I said.

“You would know that if you paid any attention yesterday,” Josh said under his breath.

“What the fuck is your problem this morning?” I asked.

“Guys,” Sam said as he stepped in to diffuse the situation. That’s what the three of us did. Whoever was the one outside of the conflict always stepped in to help calm the other two down. But truth be told, it was normally Sam who worked as the middle man. “I’m not acting as the rope for your game of tug-of-war today.” My heart strings pulled a little for my younger brother as I threw my cup of coffee in the trash.

Rehearsal went by a lot quicker today than it did yesterday. I’m sure it was because anger fueled me not to waste a single moment of time so I didn’t have to be here any longer than I had to be. I was looking forward to a couple days off. I wondered if I could make a quick trip to California to see you this weekend. 

“Hey,” I heard Josh’s voice from behind me. I continued to pack up my stuff instead of turning around to face him.

“I’m sorry, Jake,” he said. I stopped messing with my cords and sighed before turning around.

“It’s ok,” I said when I met his eyes.

“I’m stressed about the tour and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” he said. Any ounce of anger I had instantly evaporated. I could tell he needed a hug so I pulled him in. Normally he was the one to initiate physical contact, but I knew what he needed.

“Are you sticking around here for the weekend?” I asked as I let go of our embrace.

“I’m not sure. What about you?” Josh responded.

“I may explore the west coast for a couple days,” I said, rubbing my chin.

“Jake…” Josh’s voice sounded like a warning.

“What?” I asked. He sighed and shook his head, clearly not saying what he wanted to say.

“Tell y/n I said hi,” he said.

“I never said I was going to see her,” I said.

“You didn’t have to,” he added.

“It’s not a good weekend,” you said. Your words immediately broke my heart and I struggled to hold the phone in my hand. I called to see if I could come stay and visit because I hadn’t seen you in nearly three months.

“I thought you said you were off most of this week,” I said, trying to mask the sadness in my voice.

“I am,” you said.

“So why can’t I come? I miss the beach. I miss you,” the words escaped my mouth before I realized it.

“I have plans this weekend,” you said. I could tell you didn’t want to volunteer any more information and that I was going to have to ask to get any details.

“One day on the beach with me is all I ask,” I practically begged.

“Nathan and I are going out of town,” you said. There it was. The reason you were being so short and vague. You knew how I felt about him; I just wish you knew how I felt about you.

“He’s still around?” I asked.

“Jake, I’m not having this conversation again,” you said. I could hear the frustration in your voice.

“Where are you guys going?” I asked. I really didn’t want to know any details because I didn’t want to think about Nathan any more than I had to. I was struggling to play nice.

“He’s taking me to his parents’ house in Malibu,” you said. I felt my chest tighten.

“You’re meeting his parents?” I asked.

“Yes, Jake. Is that ok with you?” you asked sarcastically. 

“You know you don’t need my permission for anything. I can’t say the same for Nathan,” I added. I tasted the bitterness of my insult. You didn’t immediately respond so I knew my words made an impact. I then heard you speaking but I couldn’t tell what you were saying. The sound was muffled as if your hand was covering the phone.

“Hello?” I asked. I continued listening to the muffled conversation and realized he was currently there with you. I couldn’t make out what you two were saying but I was growing more and more frustrated by the second. “Y/n?” I asked again, hoping for a response, but I continued to sit on the metaphorical back burner.

“Sorry about that,” you said. “Hey, I’ve got to finish packing but I will call you tomorrow.”

“Sure, of course. I will talk to you tomorrow,” I said as you ended the call.

I made myself a drink and debated calling one of the guys to come over and hangout. It was only 8:00 p.m. but I felt the exhaustion from the last two days taking its toll on me. Well, the tequila in my drink probably didn’t help. I figured I should take advantage of some extra hours of sleep. I polished off my glass and slowly shuffled to my bedroom. I put my phone on the charger and collapsed into my bed. For once, I didn’t have to lie awake as I slowly sunk into the pillow.

Part Three

"How long, can I go on like this,

Wishing to kiss you

Before I rightly explode?

Well this double life I lead isn't healthy for me.

In fact, it makes me nervous.

If I get caught, I could be risking it all." - JM

I didn’t realize that I slept for over 14 hours when I rolled over to check the time on my phone. Both my body and my mind really needed to rest. I scrolled through the notifications on my screen with tired eyes until I spotted two missed calls from you. As if you were a shot of espresso, I was immediately awake. You didn’t leave me a voicemail but you had called me at what would be 1 a.m. your time. I sat up straight and nervously called you back.

“Hello?” you answered on the first ring. Your voice sounded strange.

“Hey, I’m sorry I missed your calls last night. What’s going on?” I asked.

“If you’re still wanting to come to California, I’m free,” you said.

“I’ll be on the next flight,” I said as I hurried to get out of bed. 

“Thanks, Jake,” you said. I could tell you were on the verge of tears, so I decided not to press for any details yet. We could talk it out once I got there.

I landed in Santa Barbara just after 7 p.m. and headed through the small California airport. It was surprisingly easy finding a last-minute flight, but it wasn’t easy getting through the airport. Even today, I am still taken aback by the attention I receive from fans. I texted you to find out where to meet you and made my way down the escalator. I was only staying for two nights so I threw everything I needed into my backpack. I can travel light. I waited outside and kept my head down until I saw your car rolling up. To my surprise, Nathan was in the passenger seat. I felt sick. You immediately jumped out of the car and ran straight to me. I wanted to pick you up and spin you around, but I knew that would not make a great first impression with your boyfriend.

“I’m so happy to see you!” you squealed as I lingered in your welcoming embrace. Everything I had planned to say to you was no longer relevant now that he was here. 

“I’m happy to be here,” I said as you finally let go. I could feel Nathan staring at us but I kept my eyes locked on your beautiful face. Your naturally long eyelashes fluttered and I swore I stopped breathing.

“Are you hungry?” you asked.

“Famished, actually,” I said, realizing all I’ve eaten today were the free snacks the airline gives you. 

“Good because I made lasagna,” you said as you stood on your tiptoes.

“Did you follow your famous recipe?” I asked.

“From a box?” you asked with a laugh.

“Shh, we pretend, remember?” I asked. Before you could respond, we both jumped at the sound of your car horn. Nathan’s impatience seemed to get the best of him. I grinded my teeth before taking a deep breath. So much for first impressions.

“Come on,” you said as you rolled your eyes and laughed. I relaxed my fingers, which I didn’t realize were balled up into a fist, before following you to your car. I slid into the backseat and channeled my inner Josh so I could act like I was excited about meeting Nathan.

“Hey, man. I’m Jake,” I said, sticking my arm out to shake his hand. He turned around and looked at me like I was covered in dirt. 

“Hello, Jake,” he said, finally grabbing my hand unenthusiastically. “I’m Dr. Turner.” Give me a break. You got into the car and smiled when you saw us shaking hands.

“Oh good, I didn’t have to do the introductions,” you said with a wink.

I learned your weekend trip to Malibu was canceled when Nathan–or Dr. Turner–found out he needed to be on call at the hospital last minute. I could tell you were disappointed, but I’m not sure if that was the reason you sounded like you were crying on the phone this morning. I made a mental note to ask you about it when we had some privacy. I knew Nathan was staying for dinner but I was praying to whatever God who was listening that he wouldn’t be staying the night as well. I needed alone time with you. 

When we got back to your place, I made my way to your guest room to put my backpack up. I checked in with the guys to let them know I had made it safely to your place. I guess news of me being in California was all over Twitter and Instagram because our social media manager sent me screenshots of some pictures I took with fans in the airport. I knew we’d have to lay low now that I was here to keep your identity hidden. The last thing you or I needed were pictures of us circulating online with rumors. I started to make my way out of the bedroom when I stopped in the doorway. I could hear you and Nathan having what sounded like an argument, and I didn’t want to interrupt. I leaned in closer to the hallway to eavesdrop.

“He can’t get a hotel room?” Nathan asked.

“I’m not making my best friend stay in a hotel,” you said as you closed the oven door.

“He can afford it,” he said with a scoff.

“I don’t concern myself with other people’s finances, Nathan. You know that. People could say the same thing about me dating a doctor,” you said. I rolled my eyes.

“I just don’t like the idea of another guy staying the night with you,” he said.

“He’s not staying with me. He’s sleeping in another room. Plus I’ve known Jake almost my entire life. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve slept under the same roof,” you said.

“I would feel more comfortable if I were here too,” he said. I felt my blood start to boil. 

“Please trust me, Nathan. I’ve never given you a reason not to,” you said. I couldn’t handle listening any longer so I made my way out of the hallway and walked into the kitchen. When you saw me, you pulled away from Nathan. I’m not sure if you noticed–but both he and I did. I’m sure that unconscious movement only fueled his insecurities even more. 

Dinner went better than one would expect. It appears everyone–including myself–is a great actor. One would have never guessed Nathan didn’t want me there with the way he was asking me questions about my life with the band. If I didn’t know half of what I already knew about him, I’d think he was a pretty good guy. You beamed watching the two of us converse. I gazed at your full lips across the table as they broke into a smile. I wanted nothing more than to kiss them. 

“Nothing like a home-cooked meal,” you said with a laugh. I gave you a soft smile.

“Stouffer’s is a specialty with this one,” Nathan said, pulling you into a side hug. “I’m hoping she’ll learn her way around a kitchen eventually.”

“I will take anything that’s not fast food at this point,” I said. I stared at the glass mason jar of strawberry lemonade you so kindly made AKA mixed Crystal Light with water. I knew you had a busy schedule at the hospital and worked so hard as a nurse. And I knew you had to fend a lot for yourself growing up. I was just proud that you made a life for yourself and lived unapologetically. I didn’t care that you never took an interest in cooking. You never tried to be anyone but yourself and I loved that about you.

“Well, it would be nice to have something that wasn’t full of preservatives every once in a while,” Nathan said with a laugh. I looked up to meet his eyes and if looks could kill, he’d be a goner. You sensed my sudden change in mood and laughed at his joke–a laugh that you and I both knew was fake and forced.

“I’m a great cook, actually. What about you Nathan?” I said.

“A man’s place doesn’t belong in the kitchen. Plus, I’m too busy with surgeries and–” he was saying.

“The 1900s called. They want their sexist views back,” I joked. You let out a wild laugh, one that was so not fake. I watched Nathan squirm in his seat before forcing a smile. Before he could respond, the ringing of his work phone distracted us.

“Great,” he muttered before excusing himself from the table. When he was out of the room, you and I locked eyes and you started that wild laugh again.

“Jacob Thomas Kiszka, you are horrible,” you said. I loved when you used my full name.

“What kind of backwards ideology is that?” I asked. I wasn’t joking anymore.

“He was raised differently,” you said, smoothing the napkin in your lap. 

“Does he call his mom Mother? Be honest,” I said, biting my lip to keep from laughing.

“Jake…” you said.

“Holy shit, he does!” I exclaimed. We both were laughing hysterically when Nathan came back into the room.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“Jake just told me a funny story,” you said nervously.

“I like to laugh,” Nathan said as he joined us at the table.

“Do you have to leave, darling?” you asked. I could taste the bile in my throat after hearing you call him that.

“Yeah, here in a second. I want to hear this hilarious story first,” he said as he met my stare.

“It’s really an inside joke. You wouldn’t–” you started.

“I’m waiting,” Nathan said, not breaking my eye contact. Just then, I fantasized about stabbing him in the neck with the fork in my hand. 

“I was telling y/n the story about how Josh–that’s my brother–sometimes acts in his diva persona,” I was trying to come up with something on the fly. I’m sure anyone with a brain would know I was lying, but I kept going. “And when he’s this super bitch–his words–he makes life hell for us all.”

“And that’s…funny?” Nathan asked.

“If you knew him, yes,” I said. 

“Right. Well, I’ve been called in for surgery. Another with cirrhosis of the liver. They’re a dime a dozen nowadays,” Nathan said. It was hard to believe he was talking about another human life. I wouldn’t want someone who didn’t see value in another person’s soul operating on me. He wouldn’t give a shit if I lived or died. I’d be just another body on the operating table to him. “That’s why I’ve encouraged y/n to stop drinking. Nasty stuff. Jake, you should consider it too.”

“Thanks for the medical advice, doc,” I said.

“I’m serious. Alcohol is poison. But then again, so are all of the preservatives we consume in our instant lemonades and frozen lasagnas, so what the hell do I know?” he laughed. Nobody laughed along with him this time.

“I’ll walk you out,” you said as you pushed yourself away from the table. I wasn’t sure if you were needing a break from yet another one of his passive aggressive insults, or if you were trying to get him away from me before I did something that would put me behind bars for the rest of my life.

Part Four

"If I should be so bold,

I'd ask you to hold my heart in your hand.

I'd tell you from the start how I longed to be your man.

But I never said a word,

I guess I'm gonna miss my chance again." - JM

We spent the rest of the evening sitting on your couch and catching up. We talked every day but having this time with you in person felt completely different. You wanted to know everything about our new tour and I could feel the excitement radiating off of you. 

“Will you be there opening night?” I asked.

“You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you said. “I have a confession.”

“Oh?” I asked as I moved closer to you. 

“I have a bottle of tequila stashed in the cabinet above the refrigerator,” you whispered.

“You know how I feel about alcohol, and don’t even get me started on preservatives,” I said sarcastically. You threw a pillow at me before jumping up to grab it. I watched you climb on top of your kitchen counter to be able to reach your hidden contraband. You jumped down off the counter and ran back to join me on the couch with the forbidden bottle of tequila tucked under your arm.

“If you can guess my favorite song off the new album, I will take a shot. If you get it wrong, you have to take a shot,” you said, holding the bottle out to me. 

“So I have a 90% chance of taking a shot,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“The odds are definitely in my favor,” you said with a laugh. I studied your face for a moment. I wanted to tell you how you were the inspiration for my most favorite song that I’ve ever written. Josh heard it once and knew it belonged on the album. I wanted to explain how my time on the beach with you earlier this year inspired the story behind the song. Every word, every line to the song “Waited All Your Life” was written about you. You were the song. But how could I ever admit that?

“Runway Blues?” I guessed. I knew it wouldn’t be it. And for a moment, I swear a look of disappointment flashed across your face for a brief moment.

“Nope! Take a shot!” you said as you proudly held the bottle to me.

“What was the right answer?” I asked as I unscrewed the lid. I put the bottle to my lips and wondered when it touched yours last. 

“‘Waited All Your Life’ is my favorite,” you said with a soft smile. I felt my chest tighten at your admission and took a shot of tequila straight from the bottle. 

“Mine too,” I said so quietly I wondered if you even heard me. “Hey, can we go to the beach tomorrow? Just the two of us?” 

“Yeah, that sounds perfect,” you said as you grabbed the bottle from me. You took a shot and I envied the bottle that got to kiss your lips. 

After talking and laughing for several hours on the couch, you got a text from Nathan that the surgery went well and he was headed home for the night. 

“Home as in…?” I asked.

“Home as in his own home. We don’t live together, Jake,” you said as you looked up at me under your lashes.

“I know, I know,” I said as I sighed with relief. You screwed the lid back on the bottle of tequila before climbing back up to stash it away for another time. When you came back into the living room, you stood at the end of the couch and yawned. Unfortunately, I knew what was coming.

“I think we should call it a night,” you said. I didn’t want this night to end. Carpe noctem.

“Yeah, I’m pretty tired,” I lied.

“Don’t set an alarm. Sleep in and we’ll go to the beach whenever we feel like it tomorrow,” you said. I didn’t want to sleep at all. I didn’t want to waste a single moment when I’m here with you.

“Ok, sounds like a plan,” I said as I stood up. I walked closer to you and I watched you suck in a breath.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you said quietly.

“Me too,” I said as I wrapped my arms around you.

“Good night, Jake,” you said.

“Good night, y/n,” I whispered.

After my shower, I laid on the bed in the guest bedroom and stared at the ceiling fan for what felt like an eternity. Thoughts of you, thoughts of us, thoughts of Nathan, the beach, tequila, and your song clouded my mind. I wanted to get out of bed and knock on your bedroom door. I wanted to admit every thought and feeling I’ve hidden from you for years. I wanted to admit how I’ve kept this secret from you for so long and it kills me nearly every day. I wanted to cry and scream and then cry some more. I wanted to hold you. But I just laid there and stared at the ceiling fan as the blades moved in a perfect rotation. Maybe tomorrow I’d admit these things to you. Maybe when we’re on the beach I’d finally find courage amongst the waves. I closed my eyes and let the hope for tomorrow guide my dreams for tonight.

Part Five

"And all I really want to do is to feel you.

It's a feeling inside that keeps building.

I will find a way to you if it kills me.

If it kills me.

It might kill me." - JM

I helped unload your adirondack chairs from the back of your car when we found a spot on the beach that was secluded from both the locals and the tourists. There was a walk-up bar not too far from us, but still far enough away that we felt like we were the only two people on the beach. I kept my sunglasses on as I faced the ocean, admiring the sunlight reflecting off the water. I watched you apply your sunscreen and waited for you to ask me to help you apply it to your back and neck. 

“Do you mind helping?” you asked, turning away from me and moving your hair to the side. I grabbed the bottle and started to rub the lotion on your back. I took my time because I wanted to feel every inch of your soft skin. 

“Can I ask you a question?” I asked as I continued rubbing the sunscreen on your shoulders. I finally felt enough courage to ask about the phone call since I couldn’t see your eyes.

“Always,” you said.

“When I talked to you on the phone yesterday morning… You sounded like you were crying,” I quietly admitted. I waited for you to say something but the silence lingered in the air. 

“I was,” you said.

“Why?” I asked.

“I don’t really want to talk about it, Jake,” you said as you dropped your head. I stared at the back of your neck waiting for the right words to come to me.

“You know you can talk to me about anything,” I said.

“I know,” you said. I put my hands on your shoulders and pulled for you to turn to face me. When you met my eyes, I could see they were hiding something.

“Y/n, what’s bothering you?” I asked. You sighed as you put your sunglasses on, attempting to camouflage your emotions.

“Nathan and I got into an argument that night and I called you in the heat of the moment. But we worked it out by the time you called me back the next morning. I was still upset and just needed to see my best friend,” you said as you reached out to squeeze my hand. “I miss you so much.”

“Loving a music man ain’t always what it’s supposed to be,” I sang a line from one of your favorite Journey songs as I let your hand stay in mine. I knew what I had to do to make you smile.

“Oh, girl, you stand by me,” you sang playfully. You loved when I sang, especially when it was a song off of your comfort playlist.

“I’m forever yours,” I sang back to you, meaning every word I said.

“Faithfully,” you sang as you let go of my hand. I wanted the lyrics to be true for you like they were for me. You laid your head back on your chair and basked in the sunlight. 

“Y/n?” I asked.

“Mhm?” you replied, still sunbathing.

“I–” I began, but stopped speaking when your phone started ringing.

“Sorry, this is work,” you said as you fished your phone out of your tote bag. I watched your face turn to disappointment behind the sunglasses. “Hello?” you said as you answered. You got up and walked away to take the phone call. I turned my attention away from you and looked out toward the waves. I knew our time together was ending quicker than I wanted it to. I was supposed to fly back home first thing tomorrow morning, and we were supposed to spend the entire day together on the beach, but my gut told me those plans were about to change. Being a musician, I was no stranger to abrupt changes and I quickly learned how to adapt to the unexpected. Nothing in my life ever goes according to plan anymore. I glanced your direction and watched you pace back and forth, still talking to whoever it was on the phone. I turned back toward the water and savored what I knew would be my final moments here on the beach. Another chance I would never take washed away on the shore line. I wiped the tear that escaped my eye as you walked back toward your empty chair. You didn’t have to say it; I knew.

“I am so sorry, Jake,” you began.

“Do we need to go?” I asked.

“Yes,” you said with a sigh. Without another word, I stood up and helped grab the chairs to make our way back to your car.

“Please feel free to stay in my house until I get back. I only have to go in for a few hours to help locate and fix some medical charts that got mishandled. I don’t have to work a full shift tonight,” you said. 

“Sure, of course,” I lied. I’d be searching for the next flight out of California the second you walked out the door. I knew you would be upset that I planned to leave without a proper goodbye, but I left what I needed to say out on the beach. The waves carried my broken heart back to the ocean. My unspoken words would forever remain buried in the sand.

Eventually, I would find my way back there when you were ready to hear them.

It wasn’t our time, yet. And it kills me that maybe it never will be.

The End

[nine-of-words]

Something Borrowed (Part Eleven)

M Gargoyle x M Reader

PREVIOUS || STORY TAG

Wordcount: 7437

Content Warnings: Discussion of a Breakup, Brief Mention of Fantasy Catholicism

I’m not dead and here is another chapter! However this part ran way too long in the original plan, so I’ve decided to break it in two. It is somehow still more than 7k, so, whoops. Fittingly, we’re going with a baker’s dozen for this story rather than a dozen.

The anticipation is killing you.

You are in the back of a rented van, babysitting two comically large, magically chilled boxes full of partially constructed wedding cake. Your eyes are eagle sharp as you monitor it on the way to the venue.

It's something you've done hundreds, if not thousands of times before at this point, but it still makes you feel slightly queasy, watching the result of your hard work wobble and sway in its supported box with every little bump in the road.

But this time, you're an extra bit queasy for a different reason, as you hold your device out in front of you.

If you're going to call somebody, you need to have called them… at least twenty minutes ago, now.

Between working double time late into the night to remake this cake, and getting it ready for delivery today, you haven’t had time to make the call at a reasonable hour. 

Until now.

…Or so you tell yourself. 

You definitely waited until the last possible minute, at least partially out of fear.

You look down at the screen, the pixels composing the letters of Carlyle’s name starting to lose their meaning from staring at them for so long.

You suppose the second best time to call is now. 

You finally swallow down the dread and start to mentally count down from ten. 

Ten, Nine, Eight-

Ugh, what are you even doing? You’re just going to make a fool of yourself!

Seven, Six, Five…

What if he doesn’t pick up? What then? It’s the middle of the day on a work day! He's a lawyer, he's probably on a courtroom right now-

Four… Three… Two…

And what if he does pick up? You should’ve rehearsed what you were going to say better-

One.

You force yourself to hit the button before you can hesitate again. The sound of ringing on the other end is like a series of white hot pokers in your chest. Your eyes are screwed closed in anticipation.

It rings once. 

You consider wrenching open the sliding door of the van and tossing your voci out onto the highway speeding by.

It rings twice…

“Hello?”

Even with just the single word, he sounds absolutely incredulous. You can clearly imagine the way his eyebrows arch up when he hears something particularly egregious.

“... Hi,” You finally manage to force the word out on a forceful exhale, but then immediately stall, the ghost of your next sentence leaving you in a near-silent rattle.

“...Hello. Are you… okay?”

“Yes- Well, no. Maybe?” You laugh nervously. “It really depends on what your answer to my next question is…”

“Hah, well- I’m listening, whenever you're ready.”

You take a deep breath of air, fist nervously clenching your apron hem, then swallow it down with your remaining pride.

“I know this is last minute and I know I don’t really have the footing to ask you a favor right now, but… I really need you,” You say, mouth already dry and your voice beginning to shake, the words harder to excavate the more you scrape out. “Do you think that you could… would you be my date to this wedding?”

“Of course. I’ll be there.” Carlyle’s response is more nonchalant and so much lighter in tone than you expected; relieved, even. You hear fabric rustling and what sounds like the subtle grinding of stone on the other end. “Send me the address. And the dress code- I'm assuming there is one.”

“R-Really?” You say in disbelief; you expected rejection, or at least much more pushback. You expected to have to beg for forgiveness. “Just like that?”

“Yes?” He lets out a soft, barely audible laugh. “Were you expecting me to turn you down?”

He has a point. What were you expecting, exactly? Bitter resentment? But no, of course he’s behaving in a kind and supportive manner- He’s never given you a reason to think he’d act any differently. You’ve never been happier to be wrong.

“I… suppose I was. I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

“Just so we're on the same page here,” The rustling of movement on Carlyle’s end of the line continues. “I’m going as your date, but is this a date? I'll still join you in a platonic capacity, of course, so there's no pressure, but I would like things to be transparent from the start.”

“A date!” You blurt out, but quickly clarify; “A, uh, not platonic one. A romantic one, I mean. I-If that's what you want.”

“You don't know how happy I am to hear you say that.”

“Sorry- I think I might know. Just a tick-” You’re overjoyed and devastated at the same time, struggling to blink back the sting of tears at the corners of your eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. Really. You don’t have to apologize.”

You try to convince yourself to get off the line, but it’s just so good to hear his voice again, you’re desperate to wring as much of it as you can out of this short interaction- to save it up in case things go south again. But you’ll need to unload this cake soon, and understandably, Carlyle can't stay on the call for much longer either, given the sudden need to pack and commute. So, after giving him the information he needs, you’re forced to cut it short.

You finally say goodbye and end the call, left sitting in the back of the van with the cake, the anxiety weighing on you laced with a bit of pleasant anticipation, now.

One look at the place when you get out of the back of the van, and you’re already intimidated. They certainly didn’t spare any cost, from the look of it. You push the feeling down and remind yourself you have a reason to be here- you’re here for work primarily, no matter what the self-critical voice in the back of your mind is trying to tell you.

The building is an old Elven palace nestled in sprawling gardens, situated on the northern edge of the city and repurposed into an event venue. The exterior is all tall, windy spires and iridescent panes of stained glass, with sprawling plant life tracing cracks where they’ve found purchase. Even from here, you can see that a massive tree growing from the same craggy base of the hill the palace is perched on has started to grow into a hole in the building’s stone facade who knows how long ago- now kept artfully pruned now as a feature, rather than a signal of disrepair, you have to assume.

You walk into the reception venue’s service door from the parking area, somehow even more intimidated by the inside. Fittingly, it’s the palace’s ballroom. Branches of the tree have slowly crept their way in here over the years, twisting through the stone and dotting the cracks with the occasional vine or flower. Long hanging pennants of silky cloth hang down between marble columns and the same rosy stained glass panels from the outside, the backdrop to meticulously set dining tables with live floral centerpieces, evoking what it likely looked like in the past. The high ceiling has some sort of eerie gloss to it, with multiple finely dressed banquet workers in the room seemingly running tests as the lights flicker and twinkle a different color occasionally- you can only imagine what this room will look like with the lighting fully set later.

In your line of work, you’ve seen a lot of wedding ceremonies, or at least the set up preceding them. Elven weddings tend to be showy and overdone, ostentatious in their presentation, and this one is no exception. Everything about the venue you’ve seen so far screams “I paid a lot of gold for this”, which given Trevor’s parents likely foot the bill for it, you’re unsurprised.

As usual when you arrive, your first order of business is to locate the wedding planner, to confirm where to put the end product of your hours of effort. This time, it's a stern looking elven woman in a flowy black and gold jumpsuit and sporting a tight bun atop her head- someone you instantly recognize and find yourself hit with a wave of dread, realizing you have to have this conversation, of all things, right now.

“Ooh, hello!” She says your name, but all you hear is being called up to the gallows. “What a nice surprise it is to see you here!”

This is the wedding planner you were talking to when you had begun to plan your own wedding, when you and Trevor were still engaged. You feel a little bad that you don’t remember her name- you could probably find her card somewhere in your files from the times you’d worked on the same wedding before you hired her, but so much of that time period is such a blur to you now. It feels like a whole different lifetime.

“Hi,” you say awkwardly, fingernails already digging into the strap of your bag of supplies. You force yourself to unclench your fingers. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“It has! We haven’t worked on the same event for more than… well, more than a year now, wouldn’t it be?” Her nails tap the datapad in her hands as she types away.

You can hear the question she’s being too polite to ask: It was when we were planning this wedding when it was going to be yours, wasn’t it?

“I changed location, so that might be why.” You offer an explanation.

“When Ms. Devinthal said she had a backup in mind when the groom’s first choice bakery fell through, I had no idea it was going to be you! I didn’t recognize the business name at all!”

Backup? First choice…? What’s that supposed to mean?

“Yeah, well, I changed my shop’s name too, so I imagine there just hasn’t been a lot of overlap in customers lately, hahah.”

“True…” She lowers her data pad and purses her lips, barely bothering to conceal her pity. It seems she’s able to piece together the reason as to why pretty easily. “If I can be purely honest with you? I thought you’d have quit the business. Spirits know I wouldn’t be able to keep working in this business after… well, all of that heartbreak transpired. I hope things have improved for you in that regard, dear.”

You can feel your eyes glaze over a bit as you vividly recall the day you had called this woman in barely-withheld tears to cancel her service; how you barely were able to explain through your weak voice, hoarse from crying, that there wasn’t going to be a wedding to plan anymore.

“Oh, they have.” You say, trying to keep your teeth from gritting, with a drawn on customer-service smile.

“Ohoh! Well, I should let you get to work! That cake isn’t going to stack itself, is it? However, if things keep going well, you’ll have to keep me in mind when you hear wedding bells ringing again, hmm? They say the second time's the charm!”

“Of course I will!” You lie through your teeth. “Thanks.”

Mercifully, you have your job to turn your attention to.

As soon as she’s out of earshot, you let out a long, withering breath, and resteel yourself. You’re not going to have a breakdown. It’s too early in all of this.

One by one, you bring the chilled boxes into the reception venue, fingers locked tightly, but not tight enough to damage the cake inside. You’ve never dropped a cake at the venue- yet- but given your luck lately, you’re not taking any chances.

Once all the necessary pieces are inside, you begin the work of extracting the cake tiers from their boxes and moving them to the obnoxiously broad cake stand. The cake will be set on a small table all on its own, pride of place of the banquet area of the ballroom.

Every tier you place as if you’re disarming a bomb; your life and the life of everyone in the building depends on it being undamaged. Dowel rods and cardboard circles are strategically placed as needed for structural integrity, each tier of cake perfectly centered in the middle of the one below.

Finally, you gingerly slide the last, petite tier on top of the whole thing.

…It’s secure. That’s most of the battle won. You let out the breath you were holding. Putting on the final aesthetic touches won’t be nearly as mortally terrifying as the potential of the cake crashing onto the floor into a heap of sweet mush due to an accidental slip of the hand.

You begin the process of touching up the sides and the seams of the tiers, dolloping buttercream from your container to hide any cracks like you're spackling a wall. Time both flies by and is somehow agonizing in how long it drags on. All the way through laying down the final buttercream decorations, up until you've meticulously placed the last sugary rose you spent so much time sculpting, there's only one thing on your mind, and it’s not the cake.

All that’s left is to seek out the wedding planner once again for final approval. To your relief, she's thrilled with your work and gives you the go ahead to clean up as she uses the datapad in her hand to send the rest of your payment to your account. It's always easier when there's no new demands or fabricated issues brought up at the very end. The tightly wound muscles in your upper back ease, just a little bit.

And with that- it's done, finished, out of your hands. The cake is delivered safely, and you feel lighter already knowing it's not your problem anymore.

… As long as it makes it through the night without exploding, that is.

You swallow dryly at the thought. Kirby enthusiastically assured you that there was basically no chance of it happening again so soon- that it happening to the first version of this cake was a blessing in disguise, since that explosion took place in your shop and not the venue, and there wouldn't be enough time for negative energy to accumulate again by now. You can't help but still feel the twinge of apprehension, despite you trusting their judgement.

The last of your supplies get neatly packed away just in time, as you're starting to see more elves dressed in their best formal wear filtering through by the passing minute. 

Casting one last lingering look at the cake, you leave the grandiose ballroom for your hotel room to get ready. By nature of attending a wedding you've also delivered the cake to, the time you have to prepare is somewhat more scant than you’d like, so you’ve got to get moving. 

After a walk down a particularly gilded hallway, you enter the frankly ostentatious lobby of the hotel portion of the palace. The high vaulted, ribboned ceilings are almost dizzying, and all of the small details on the architecture being gilded or inlaid with some other precious material is making it hard to look at anything for too long.

A bellhop takes your bags, leaving you less to fiddle with in your anxiety. So instead, you compulsively check your voci every few moments while you wait for the front desk agent to do her thing. Hopefully, she doesn’t notice how sweaty your hands are with nerves when you take the set of keycards from her. You want to get up there and get ready as soon as possible. You don’t want to hog the bathroom if Carlyle still needs to finish getting ready, too…

Since the guest rooms themselves are in the various high towers of the palace, the elevator ride takes what feels like forever. You’re left to look at your many reflections, scrutinizing the imperfections of your face amplified in the glass and regretting most of your life decisions up to this point.

When you finally get there, the hotel room itself is even a bit intimidating in how expensive and ornate it looks. You’re aware you likely got one of the most standard of rooms, as a low priority guest. You don’t even want to think about what the bigger suites must look like… And certainly not the bridal suite, which the front desk agent was happy to chirp about being at the very top of the highest spire.

Despite being what’s considered a standard room, it’s still more lavish than anything you’d ever buy yourself for the night by far, all gilded and crystal surfaces and the finest fabrics. 

Of the most note is an incredibly tall window pane that reaches from the floor all the way up to the ceiling- at least double and a half of your height. The view overlooks the swathe of greenery and pastel color of blooming flowers below, and then eventual transition to the blocks of Windrise City proper in the far distance, past the gardens. 

You may be in a time crunch, but the view from the window is so entrancing you find yourself opening the light curtains a little wider and staring out in awe for just a few moments. If you had time, you’d probably be out on the balcony right now.

Your delivered bags sit on the golden luggage stand in one corner, looking very out of place in their mundanity.

Hastily, you pick out the one suit you own from the top of your luggage, where it’s neatly folded on the hanger. You shake it out a bit before hanging it on the bar in the hallway closet.

Carlyle hasn’t shown up yet, which is both a relief and terrifying. What if he got stuck in gridlock traffic and he can’t get here in time? You’ll be here on your own anyway, after all of that. Somehow it’d make the whole situation even more embarrassing, seeing familiar faces while you stew in shame, left to endure pitying looks that cover up deep disdain for your presence…

But.. no. He’d definitely call back if he was running late.

You peel yourself out of your slightly sugar-crusted apron and hop into a hurried shower, starting the rush through your grooming routine.

Once you’ve bathed, you immediately move on to shaving; going through the motion of working a lather of soap onto your face. Thanks to your mother being an elf, you don’t have to shave that often, but she is a snow elf, so the stubble will still get out of hand if you let it.

The preening gives you a sense of comfort- a calmness that you’ve been sorely lacking lately.

You can at least handle this. You are fully capable of looking presentable. It’s part of your job.

While the momentary refuge from your dread is a comfortable diversion, reality quickly sets back in when you hear a knock at the door.

You look up and freeze, the razor still in your hand hanging inert by your jaw.

A bolt of terror courses through you, despite bubbling with joy. You want to see him, if the urge to run to the door and immediately throw it open means anything. But it’s going to be so awkward… What do you even say now?

Maybe it’s just room service, even though you didn’t order it. A maid with extra pillows, even though you didn’t ask for them? A maintenance worker coming to fix something, even though you didn’t report an issue?

You realize you’ve been standing here frozen for far too long, and scramble to get some semblance of covered, throwing open the closet and yanking one of the robes off the attached anti-theft hangers, then hurriedly putting your arms through the sleeves and tying a sloppy knot around your waist.

Finally at the door, nearly working up a sweat in your haste, your hands fumble with the chain lock and the door handle, but manage to open the door.

Carlyle is on the other side, of course, and not the random hospitality worker you were conjuring in your head. He has an overnight bag slung over one shoulder, and a smaller one held at his side in his opposite hand.

He looks as handsome as ever, clearly freshly groomed and put together himself; freshly pressed suit, dreadlocks neatly tied in a loose gather, and the warm, spiced scent of his cologne’s heart note. 

You imagine Carlyle must own more than a few suits, given his job and the fact you’ve rarely seen him in anything less formal, but if this isn’t his best suit, it’s probably close to it. The fabric of the lapels is a silky, resplendent black, shimmering just enough when the light hits it that it’s nearly impossible to resist the desire to run your fingers along them. The rosy blush paisley pattern on his chosen tie is strikingly familiar…

His free hand is hovering halfway between his tie and the door, like he’s contemplating knocking again after fussing with his focus in anticipation. He lowers it to straighten his tie, and his face breaks into a smitten, amused smile at the sight of you. 

“Good afternoon.” The way the corners of his eyes tighten and his voice has the slightest hint of wavering, you can tell he’s barely holding back laughter. “I’m truly flattered that you wanted to answer the door so quickly, but you didn’t have to rush.”

“H-Huh?”

He gestures to his face like he’s stroking a nonexistent beard. You move your own to mirror the movement, immediately regretting your choice when the fingertips find the shaving lather you still have on half of your face.

The accumulated tension is blown to smithereens.

You can feel your face heating up in embarrassment, running to answer the door like this. 

A momentary silence falls between you- with you too dazed to access your proper manners, and Carlyle too patient to suggest you move out of the doorway and let him through.

Both on one side of a threshold, but neither being quick to trespass.

It’s a foreign feeling, knowing how close you’ve gotten, yet having this invisible, manufactured barrier still standing between you.

That evening in the shop when he came by late and you were in much the same circumstances comes to mind. There’s no extinguished neon shop sign barring the way now, though, just your own awkward behavior.

“Um. Well,” You cringe at yourself, trying to relax your wooden posture. “Come in?”

As soon as Carlyle has slid past you and inside the room, you scoop up your main layers of clothes that you had laying out within reach.

“Right, um. I’ll just. Be out in a minute-” You manage to blurt out before unceremoniously locking yourself in the bathroom, only catching half of his affirmative words before the door shuts.

Finishing shaving and getting dressed doesn’t take nearly as long as you’d hope- not nearly enough to think up something meaningful to say to him. You find yourself gripping the edges of the sink, staring yourself down in the mirror, desperately trying to plan your approach.

What is even appropriate here? Should you thank him for coming? Should you apologize again?

Anything is better than this. You can’t hide in the bathroom forever torturing yourself. 

Right?

You close your eyes to splash your face with a bit of water, and take a long, drawn out, deep breath. Then you steel yourself and meekly emerge from your hiding spot. 

You stall in front of the hallway closet, eyes turned away, and pick up your tie from the neck of the nearby hanger with your blazer on it.

But before you can make much progress with your tie, you’re hit with a pleasantly familiar, slightly sweet, slightly malty smell that calls you out into the room proper, despite your best attempts to keep hiding from your date.

You glance around for the source, quickly finding that there’s a neutral white mug sitting on the grotesquely ornate lacquer tray next to the brewing machine.

“Tea?” You identify, forgetting your task and taking the still-warm mug into your hands.

“I made you a cup. I thought you might need it.”

Carlyle’s taken a seat in the embroidered club chair in the corner of the room. Even in a place like this, he manages to somehow not look out of place. He peers out at you, one leg folded over the other. His spaded tail lazily whips the empty space below him.

“Ah. T-Thanks.” You say, trying not to let your voice crack, before taking a long sip. 

Queen’s Breakfast Blend. He even put cream and sugar in it- a bit under what you would’ve, but that’s only to be expected from him. You’re sure to him, this was just as excessive as you’d like. It’s nothing like the authentic blend Devin brings you, but you’re touched that he remembered your preference.

“Can’t help but see the coffee’s untouched.” You sniff dryly and look into the beige, opaque liquid in your cup, extending a cursory bit of teasing. Testing the waters.

“Hah! Well. A man has to have some standards.” Carlyle quips in turn, clawtips drumming the fabric of the armrest.

Another long sip. You investigate the prepackaged coffees.

“...It’s the same store brand that I buy, though.” You snort. “You've been drinking it for months. Every time you turned up at the shop…”

“It’s different when you make it.” He shrugs with a knowing smile; a bolt through your chest. You can only huff out a laugh in response to prevent yourself from getting too flustered.

The mug clinks against the tray as you set it back down to focus on the fabric still hanging limp around your neck, waiting to be arranged.

You can feel Carlyle’s eyes on you as you fumble your attempts to tie it, but he’s not saying anything. Yet.

You try again. You fail again. 

Your hands are trembling the smallest bit, but it’s making it hard to complete the fine movements. You don’t know if it’s your nerves about the event in general, or maybe the fact that you know if you look up, you’ll catch Carlyle’s warm, dark brown eyes shamelessly fixated on your movements.

“B-Blast it-” You hiss under your breath as you fail to form the knot once more, but clearly not as quietly as you think, and you seem to have fully spurred your date to action.

“Here. You look like you could use some assistance.” Carlyle laughs a sift laugh as he gets to his feet and clears the short distance between you. Though, he does hesitate a moment before touching you, despite his hands already raising to do so; “If you’d like it.”

“Please.” Your voice comes out an exasperated groan, weakly throwing up your hands in defeat.

He moves in closer now that he has expressed permission, untwisting the mess of a tie and laying it flat against your flipped up collar. The room is so silent, you can hear the faint sound of the cotton brushing against this stoneskin.

“I know how to tie a tie,” You insist in your own defense, fighting no one but yourself- not angry, but more so particularly exasperated. Of course you’re failing this task while someone’s watching you do it. “I just. Don’t do it as often as you do, probably…”

“I’m sure you’re perfectly capable.” Carlyle says in a reassuring tone while his hands deftly maneuver with the finesse of someone who has absolutely done this way, way more often than you have. “Though, I’m not complaining about getting to do it myself.”

His movements are delicate but still firm, just like you remember.

His stone fingers brush the sides of your neck in the process. You simultaneously fight the urge to melt into his touch while your heart hammers in your chest so hard that you’re starting to feel it in your throat. 

…You’re fairly sure he’s dragging this out on purpose, but you, similarly, are not complaining- you’re too busy savoring the feeling.

“Is this okay?” He speaks barely above a whisper, and secures the tie at the base of your throat with a gentle tug. He’s asking about the tightness of the knot, surely, but with the way his hands linger, it’s also serving the purpose of re-confirming where your boundaries for physical closeness are, in your still undefined standing.

Your anxiety on the matter can't stand up to how badly you want him.

Your hand rises to gently touch the side of his jaw, but you hesitate, still unsure of yourself despite the clear look of invitation in Carlyle’s eyes. 

Then, there’s a slight pressure on your neck from your tie, still in Carlyle’s hands, as he gently pulls you closer by it. He does it slowly, almost agonizingly drawn out, giving you time to back out or stop it. But you don’t- you only lean in to close the gap, taking his lips in your own.

His kiss is warm and slightly rigid, just like you remember. You flinch, second guessing yourself- but his grip on your tie is still there, holding you firmly to him, clear that he has no intention of letting you go this time.

So, your hesitance melts away. Your other arm snakes around the yoke of his shoulders as you embrace him, the way you’ve been dying to do since you saw him standing at the threshold. You feel his tongue and the tips of his fangs, remapping the shape of them with your tongue. 

Your kisses grow more heated by the second, barely keeping from gnashing teeth, desperate to get more of this feeling; there’s a pit of lacking in your chest needing to be filled from the time you spent apart.

When he finally releases his hold on your tie, you pull back just enough to part your lips, you’re a glutton for air and blinking back the moisture rimming your eyelids. Overcome with emotion, you lay your head on his shoulder, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes, but not ready to break your touch for the fear that you’ll wake up and it won’t have been real.

“I missed you.”

Your voice is barely audible as you speak into the padded surface of his suit shoulder.

“I missed you, too.” He responds in a breathy, almost half-laugh, stroking the back of your head with his claw points.

Several moments pass with you unmoving, entwined with your head resting on him. None of what was bothering you seems to matter much now. 

You could stay like this forever- if only there weren’t things you had to do…

As if on cue, you hear the rumble of Carlyle clearing his throat, sounding particularly hollow from your ear’s position on his chest.

“We should be going if you want to make it to the ceremony on time.” Carlyle finally says quietly, checking his watch behind your head, but doesn’t budge yet himself, either.

“Right...” You sigh wistfully, still basking in the heady feeling of having your arms around him and his lips on yours again. You manage to somehow pry yourself away and slip your blazer on, but it’s the most difficult thing you’ve done in days.

Carlyle watches in approval as you straighten the lapels, a warm smile on his face.

“I have to say, you look stunning this evening.”

“My, what did I do to deserve such flattery?”

“Well- you see me in a suit regularly, but this is the first time I’ve gotten the pleasure of seeing you in one. It feels like a rare treat I should savor while I can.”

“I’m sorry but you’ll need to wait to do much more savoring, I’m afraid.” You say, unable to resist touching his face one more time, gently running your finger over the smooth stone surface of his bottom lip.

He kisses the tip of your thumb in response, looking you straight in the eyes as he does so.

You feel your face heat up immediately, and quickly detach your hold on him and open the door to the hallway before you give into the temptation to miss the event entirely.

“Sitting through this wedding is going to be difficult enough already- for completely other reasons now.” You quip, your voice coming out a slight rasp as you pass through the threshold of the hotel room.

“Look at this way-” Carlyle follows closely behind you, pulling the door closed with a soft click. “It's an excellent incentive.”

You manage to make it into the ceremony space just in time to not stand out as rude, sliding into the carved wooden benches at the back row, amongst the hushed pre-ceremony conversation.

The ceremony venue itself is just as extravagant as the reception area you got acquainted with while setting up the cake. 

The tree is most present in this room. Huge branches reach in through the partially open roof of the area, clusters of blossoms covering the whole left side, suspended high over the altar and reaching past over the rows of wooden benches. 

If nothing else, the pictures will be fantastic…

A small band of classic Elven musicians are in one corner, playing the equivalent to faerie elevator music on their antique reed and string instruments, to fill the room while people file into their seats.

Every attendee seems to have pulled out their best gown or set of robes from their wardrobe for the occasion, desperate to win the coveted and definitely real title of ‘best dressed wedding guest’. Swathes of Aurelian fabrics dominate your vision- shimmering flowing silks and light, twinkly sheer voiles, some likely literally enchanted with magic to float or gently shift like an aurora. You do see a handful of suits, as well as several more numan-standard cocktail dresses, but they are far outnumbered by the sheer amount of Elven finery in the room. 

It’s suffocating.

You can already feel your back muscles tensing and your jaw setting, looking out at the gathering of rich people dressed in formal wear. Even knowing you’re well within the dress code, you can’t help but think you’re underdressed somehow.

Every time a set of new eyes glance over you with brief curiosity or hazy half-recognition, you’re hit with a new small wave of panic and disgust. You sure recognize many of them- all extended family members and acquaintances that you’ve encountered over the several years of large, overblown functions for every Elven holiday with Trevor’s family that you had to endure. 

You’re sure none of them recognize you in turn- after all, why would they bother to remember you? You were only present for eight years. You were only engaged to be married. Why bother to remember something as trivial as what you look like or what your name was? At the very least, if any of them do remember who you are, they don’t dare acknowledge it.

You weren’t enough before, why would you be now?

The only small mercy is that the people closest to Trevor are far at the front, without a clear view to the back where you’re seated…

“So, how many crystal chandeliers do you think that lovely lady’s gown is worth?” Carlyle leans to the side with his back straight, just enough for his words to be audible to you but not likely anyone else, nudging your knee slightly with his own to direct your line of sight. You can hear the smirk on his lips without even turning to seeing his face. “Or do you think perhaps she robbed the baron’s bank vault directly?”

“That would be a difficult heist.” You reply, barely keeping a straight face, somehow no longer able to dwell on the occasional, real or imagined scan of familiar eyes on you. “Three, maybe four.”

A few minutes pass with Carlyle pleasantly distracting you from the impending ceremony with silly chatter. It works marvelously, until you catch sight of Trevor, dressed in uncharacteristically formal elven robes, taking his place at the altar. He, as always, looks as bored as he could probably get away with looking, though he’s standing at attention with his hands joined in front of him, rather than leaning on something.

A particularly bitter thought- that he looks far too overdressed for his face to look like he’s waiting for the bus- crosses your mind. He can’t even muster the effort to look excited on his wedding day, of all days? Typical.

Bile rises in your throat. You could vomit, and being in a crowd of people might be the only thing that keeps you from doing so. You want to yank the circlet off his head and wing it like a frisbee across the room.

Your teeth grit, and it takes all you have not to scowl. He’s attractive, and it makes you angry how good he looks in his stupid robes. Of course you find him attractive, you dated him for eight years. But any sense of thinking he’s good looking now comes with the added footnote of him leaving you when you needed his support the most.

You don’t want him anymore. You’re well aware of that. But you still can’t let go of the fact he’ll never own up to the pain that he caused you, or the fact that closure from him will stay out of reach-

The fact that you weren’t good enough.

Before you can spiral too far, however, you feel the familiar sensation of a stoneskin palm gently slipping into yours.

Carlyle doesn’t say anything, clearly not wanting to be disruptive during a ceremony, but he looks over at you and gently squeezes your fingers in a firm grip when your eyes make contact.

You don’t really need him to speak, because you can hear the message loud and clear-

I’m here.

He doesn’t take his hand back, letting it rest on your leg indefinitely. The feeling of the weight is comfortable and reassuring. 

Warmth spreads in your chest. Maybe you can make it through this ceremony.

The music slows, then immediately shifts into a recognizable, though mellow composition of a wedding march. Heads all turn in expectation.

The bride finally appears at the end of the aisle, and despite your feelings around the wedding itself, you find yourself a bit stunned by the sight. Devin is pretty anyway, so it’s not surprising that she’s also pretty on her wedding day of all days. Even if her face wasn’t obfuscated by a shifting, translucent veil, she would still be almost unrecognizable in the sheer amount of layers of fabric in varying levels of opacity she’s clad in, between the veil, train, and the full body of the gown. The bodice is fitted, with slim sleeves that start at the elbow and go down all the way past her wrist into delicate closures on her middle fingers. But the rest of the gown is simply the most ornate sea of cloth you’ve ever laid eyes on. It’s so foreign to anything you’ve ever seen her wear before, and you have to imagine it must be heavy, if the squadron of flower-clad elven children in white dress, barefoot and nymphlike, holding the train of her dress behind her are any indication.

It’s definitely still Devin under all that finery though, because she can’t hold the emotionless countenance of a demure elven bride at all- she’s too overjoyed, a permanent grin on her face as she tries to lock eyes with each and every person in the rows and give them a tiny, hurried wave from behind her bouquet- starting with you. You can’t help but smile sheepishly and return the quick wave. A small child abruptly and enthusiastically throws a fistful of flower petals at your row as soon as the bride passes by. A single petal clings to your blazer.

Trevor manages to smile in what looks like an almost genuine manner, but not after a moment of thought.

She finally reaches the altar, and the gaggle of blonde elven children are dismissed, seemingly barely restraining themselves from dashing back to their seats.

Devin is already visibly struggling to keep her composure, even through the veil, the sniffling audible in the gaps of the music.

Like most elven ceremonies, the wedding itself is elaborate and a bit drawn out. It involves multiple phases, the first of which involves both of the betrothed’s parents, even before any actual marriage vows are made between the couple. You of course are familiar with this, given the research you had started back when it was going to be you up there. This is the closest thing that an elven wedding ceremony has to a typical numan bridal party, instead focusing more on the couple themselves.

Trevor has always looked like a perfect mixture of his parents, almost like he was purposefully created in a lab, selected from their best features. They never quite warmed up to you, so you simply try to avoid making much eye contact with either of them. Devin, on the other hand, looks like a carbon copy of her mother, with her father having a more neutral complexion and dark brown hair- likely a grey elf, rather than a dawn one. As you let your eyes wander to avoid looking at Trevor and his parents too much, you follow Devin’s parents back to their row. Your eyes settle on a curiosity in the front row next to them; what certainly is the back of the head and shoulders of an orc, towering above the svelte people around them.

And of course, such a culturally important ceremony is completely performed in an archaic Aurelian dialect of Elvish. You struggle to follow along with the small amount of basic Elvish you learned from your mother, but it is a battle you’re slowly losing. Even Sunday mass for the Burning Lady doesn’t take nearly this long, and that might as well be a standard measure for what constitutes “too long” back home.

Several more observances go by, from what you can tell: A cleansing ritual with pastel colored clouds pouring from a small rose gold censer, Another chanting rite performed by the priestess for longevity and fertility, A spell performed to dissolve the bride’s veil with a sparkle of magic. Then, what you assume must be their vows, given that either of them speak following being prompted by the officiant. And after that, finally, is the actual handfasting.

A set of hazardously long ribbons are secured around their joined hands and the priestess says the last of their spiel. The music slowly starts to build back up.

Bride and groom kiss.

After all of the anticipation, you thought it would’ve felt worse- a twinge of jealousy, or even disgust. But you don’t really feel much at all, apart from a strange, deja-vu adjacent sensation that it might’ve been you up there, if things were different.

And finally, somewhere, in the back of your mind… there’s relief. 

You can’t say you mind that it isn’t you. Not anymore.

It’s not you. And that’s a wonderful thing.

You squeeze Carlyle’s hand.

Mercifully, after a one more short closing verse of Elvish, the new couple walks back up the aisle, fastened together, hand in hand.

If nothing else can be said- at least Devin looks happy. You can’t bring yourself to feel sour at the moment, regardless of how wary you are for her, given who the groom is.

“Well, that was enlightening.” Carlyle rises to his feet and moves to the end of the row, where he stands, straightening the buttons on his blazer. “Very… thorough.”

“Reminded me a bit of going to mass back home as a kid, to be honest.” You chuckle as you scooch to the end of the bench after him. “But much less kneeling.”

“Oh? We must’ve gone to different types of mass, then. I haven’t been since I was a child, but I clearly remember ours was always very succinct.” He holds out his hand to you with an amused smile, giving you a flash of fang. “If we ever find ourselves on the Queen’s Isle, maybe you can instruct me on the finer details.”

“I’d like that.” You grasp his hand and he helps you to your feet.

You don’t even need to plaster a smile on your face after that, and head to the reception area, hand in hand with your own date.

All that’s left now is to see the cake through to the cutting.

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

[keylovesstuff]

It's Coronation Day!!!! Whoo!!

Hi everyone!!! my motivation and energy have finally aligned to get this done and I cannot be happier.

Little Events: Chapter 3- The Coronation

AO3

FFN

Note: There is a line in here that implies underage drinking nothing too detailed I promise but just in case wanna give you a heads up.

What does being an effective ruler mean to you? 

Peach had been thinking about this question for the last couple of days after Toadsworth proposed that she write a speech to share with the community that raised her. Everyone on the main council who had direct involvement in her physical and diplomatic training for years now, had complete confidence that she was ready. There were a handful of toads who thought otherwise and voiced their criticisms aloud.

What does she know about life and how the world works to make the best decision for their lives?

That question was the most frequent one she's heard from the people and even now with a few days to go, she still doesn't have an answer. Toadsworth had offered to help her out with the letter but she had declined for several reasons. For as much as she valued his insight, he already had his plate full with preparing for the ceremony and he was already stressing every little detail to make it all perfect. If anything, having him fret over something that should really be in her words from start to finish would frustrate them both for wanting it worded a certain way. For the most part thankfully she didn't have to worry about that with her current companion dozing off in the sunlight.

"Think any harder Peaches and your brain just might pop out" Bowser chuckled without opening his eyes.

"Excuse me but we all can't just pop out miraculous speeches that move a crowd within hours" she rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out to the back of his shell. Adjusting the quill in her hand, Peach refocused her attention to the same four words that's been on the paper for the past hour and a half. 

Everything that came to mind no matter how she chose to word it didn't feel right. Should she just list her promises and present it to her people that way? She shook her head at the thought...that would be something a small child would do not someone turning sixteen. Bullet points are all fine but, elaborating those statements would definitely be expected.

"What a shame more people don't have my charismatic personality." Bowser finally opened his eyes, turning his head to face Peach who was once again pulled out of her train of thoughts by his words. "Oh  give me more credit, I can come up with something on the spot. Didn't even need a quill and paper for a brainstorm with my first speech" he added with a smirk.

"No way" Peach gasped aloud, setting her materials on the grass beside her. "You're telling me you didn't write anything beforehand or even rehearsed it several times in front of a mirror. That speech you gave when they crowned you King was way too good" she leaned towards him with each question.

"That's exactly what I'm saying and by the looks of what you have right now..." with a glance at the paper "Maybe you should give it a shot" he added as she snatched the sheet back up.

"Giving a speech with some sort or organization is one thing. Giving a speech without any preparation is another" Peach told him while looking thoughtfully at the paper. "I think if I write something down it would give me the confidence I need to face them" she finished and heard him scoff.

"It's that uncertainty there that makes your people think you're not ready to rule. If you can't even write a simple paper given days in advance what are you going to do if you're put on the spot?" He asked her seriously while examining his claws.

Peach froze as she considered his words and thought back on her interactions with people from the past week. Perhaps she could have been more confident in both her body language and word choice. Instead of inching away and shyly assuring the toads that she's ready to take on whatever challenges may come…she should have stood tall, looked them in their beady eyes, and even if it was fake confidence in that moment, they surely would have more faith in her now. A couple more quiet minutes passed of her thinking before she concluded that it would be another day of completing nothing. She folded the paper into sixths, put the quill in the pocket of her pants, placed the lid on her ink, and rolled her eyes.

"You're kind of sounding like Toadsworth, can we change the conversation?" Peach asked, crossing her legs and setting her hands in between them.

"Ugh don't compare a King as superior as myself to that old fool you call an advisor"  Bowser scrunched up his face following her lead and sitting up as well. "I'll have you banished from the darklands, the next time you say something like that" he added tone free of any amusement.

Peaches' stare matched the seriousness of his last statement that told him 'Toadsworth is far from a fool' and that he should take that back. Bowser backed down for the time being.

"Fine then don't compare how I'd say something to how your advisor would say it. I'm completely serious about that last part though." He finished.

"Joke's on you, Toadsworth would love to hear that I'm no longer allowed to step foot in your homeland" Peach giggled at the thought of The mustached toad smiling for miles if she were to tell him after four years of knowing each other that he told her to never come back again.

Toadsworth and Bowser got along well together most of the time. After all, Bowser gave him and the rest of the council decent advice on what a Kingdom being built from the ground up needed from firsthand experience. The Koopa also kept true to his word when it came to discovering unknown parts of their land for resources. Throughout the years they found a variety of consumable mushroom power ups. These served to greatly improve the toads productivity as they found the red ones greatly raised their size and strength. Yellow-orange mushrooms with red spots worked similarly to the red ones but grew its user to gigantic proportions which proved useful for taller buildings, her castle being the most recently completed project. There was a one person limit on the use of those to prevent any accidental crushings.

They found that blue mushrooms would miniaturize the user and even now, the toads weren't really sure how they felt about it. Already being three feet tall they didn't really like being that much smaller  and couldn't think of other tasks it could be useful for at this point. Then there was a Green that no one was sure of its functionality. After a couple attempts of consuming the mushroom with no effects, they decided it would be best to save what they found to study more thoroughly since they were such a rare find in the first place.That's where the positive interactions between the two ended.

Most disagreements between the Koopa King and Older Toad came from their approaches to Peach's leadership teachings. When it came to her obstacle courses, where Toadsworth opted for cardboard cutouts, Bowser commanded the minions of his army to take the places and dare them to hold back. The introduction of power ups brought on more problems as they went back and forth on whether she should or shouldn't be allowed to use them for certain exercises. Toadsworth would often tell Bowser off to his face about how sick he was for the look of pleasure in his eyes as she managed to barely avoid getting her head chopped off by a piranha plant or losing a power up after a small misstep. Majority of the time Bowser laughed in his face and told him to suck it up cause in a life or death scenario she may and may not make it as he told Peach to run the course again but in her heels.

Bowser's conceited attitude rubbed Toadsworth the wrong way and he always told Peach to not let the way he talks have any influence on her as if she didn't have her own mind. The whole month they've been going back and forth on every little detail for this coronation and other things that could probably be discussed at a later time if she was honest. 

Should the event start sometime in the late morning and run all the way into the afternoon? Or do they allow it to be an all night affair running into the next day?

The earlier it starts the better for everyone to be able to join and there are way more fun activities to do during the day. Versus Bowser's idea of celebrating all night rocking out and possibly indulging in beverages not fit for young toads.

They were not recreating his crowning as King where he had to take the trip to the darklands himself to escort the princess in training back home, catching taking a few sips of whatever was in that cup was Toadsworth's only response. 

They ended up settling for Peach's suggestion of starting around two in the afternoon and lasting into nine at night with the plus of shooting fireworks.

Fast loud rock music to keep everyone from the snooze fest that would come from soft soothing instrumental music that Toadsworth pitched.

Peach just suggested a mix of both cause everyone likes a variety of everything right? She knows she does even if her preference leaned more towards the instrumental playlist she grew up with, she's come around to the music in the Darklands.

They should do the allegiance signing at the... End of her speech it makes sense that way. Her main color should be...Pink. It's been her favorite for as long as she could remember. When can they start visiting and introducing her to other kingdoms...When everyone has free time to go together.

Fingers snapping in front of her face pulled her out of her thoughts. Shaking her head and looking up at him, she realized he was asking her a question. She hummed to let him know she was listening.

"Finally I swear you space out the most. Your King was asking what you wanted for your Birthday?" He repeated.

Rolling her eyes, she chose to ignore the first part of what he said. With all the preparations and struggling to write as of late, it was hard to remember that they chose to hold the coronation on her Birthday. Since she just appeared out of a pipe to them one day and she was too young to have any recollection herself, The toads just chose the day she came as the day they would celebrate her birth. Toadsworth chose this day as well to symbolize just how far she's come from being a tiny lost girl depending on them to this young woman who's fully capable of doing anything. Peach understood the sentimental meaning behind it all, even if she would go as far from saying she was capable. As the years have passed, even if they don't exactly see eye to eye on everything, her advisor would always be her number one fan and she would always appreciate the faith he has in her.

"I'm not sure" she told him honestly and then thought of a good idea with a gasp "how about you play something on your piano? You know that one melody you've been working on for awhile? It's so nice and I'm curious to see if you've gotten around to adding any lyrics to it" she gazed off in the distance.

"No" He simply answered as she whined out a 'c'mon' followed by a 'please' "as much as I would like to hear you beg. It's far from finished and the words haven't come to me yet." He finished.

"You asked me what I wanted and that's what I would like." She pouted. "So much for 'Mr.Words Come To Me In Seconds'" she mocked her hands mimicking air quotes.

"For that comment, now you don't get to choose. I'll get you whatever I want" he smiled proudly at her crossing her arms accompanied by her brows furrowing in anger with a 'whatever' in response. " back to the Birthday two questions. Will there be cake? If yes. Are you making it?" 

"Of course there's going to be cake and you know the answer to the secondary question. I rarely bake anything anymore." She answered and again reminisced about a hobby she was likely rusty at now.

Growing up she enjoyed watching Toadsworth and other adults prepare meals and as soon as she was tall enough to reach the countertop, Peach would be right next to them offering to add or mix ingredients together. It took awhile for Toadsworth especially but eventually, she was allowed to prepare full meals with little supervision and assistance. One year someone gave her a cookbook of recipes they wrote themselves and she immediately fell in love with the sweet treats. Once she got the hang of dishes, she grew confident to add her own twists on them. When everyone started getting serious about her training, being in the kitchen was one of the last places they let her go. It was in the early days of their friendship that she made cake one day and Bowser impatiently ate the entire thing and demanded she make another one.

"What a shame" was his only comment to that as he stood up and Peach followed his lead. "Anyway since you don't need my help with writing anymore I'm going to go and handle more important stuff. I'll see you in a few days.  Make sure there's some good stuff at that buffet table " He started in the direction of the pipe home.

"Ok I'll try. See you soon" Peach waved him off and once he was a good distance away she headed back towards the castle.

When Peach returned, she took note that Toadsworth wasn't in his office as the door was shut and locked. That was a good thing for now she supposed as she wasn't ready to have him question her about the speech. In fact maybe with the third and final change in atmosphere, she would finally string together the right words. She chose to go to her bedroom as a nice outfit change and fresh shower would probably rejuvenate her. On the way, she ran into one of the cooks, who offered to make and bring her a midday snack which she declined in favor of saving her appetite for dinner. 

Blow drying her hair halfway, she opted to let the rest of it air dry as she headed over to her dresser drawer. Peach pulled on a red pair of pajama pants and a plain pink tank top before slipping on her favorite fluffy light pink robe and some black bedroom slippers. By the window, sat her long white desk with a few dried up ink spots. There sat the paper from earlier which still had visible creases and the same four words that continued to taunt her. Ready to get started she sat down, pulled herself up to the desk, and grabbed her quill. The tip touched the next blank spot under the words and that's all she remembered before her mind went blank.

Peach kneeled before Toadsworth as he had asked her too. The audience had grown silent enough where you could hear a coin drop. Her heart was beating so fast she felt as if it would pop out of her chest at any minute. She kept her eyes on the ground and waited for her next order. The crown was placed atop of her head with only the slighted adjustments. With that she asked to stand and once more she was met with the hundreds of eyes on her.

"I give you the first...Princess Peach Toadstool. May she live a long healthy life and lead this Kingdom to many great things." Toadsworth finished and the crowd erupted in loud cheers and applause.

"All Hail Princess Peach" A lone toad somewhere amongst the others shouted. This coaxed others to join in as they repeated the phrase over and over again.

The echo grew fainter as the sound of knocking pulled her out of her dream that felt so real. Peach blinked her eyes several times as she refocused on her surroundings, glancing in the direction of her name being called from the other side of the door. Letting out a yawn she could feel drool on the left side of her cheek that she easily wiped off before looking at her hand. Stained in black she gasped loudly as she then noticed the knocked over ink cup that not only coated her hands but her paper as well. The voice on the other side was filled with panic as they called her name once more and asked if everything was okay. This time she responded.

"Uhh Yes sir I just spilled something. Please come in though." Peach stuttered out to Toadsworth now clearly registering his voice. She walked over to her vanity stand and grabbed a few wet wipes to get the ink stains off her hand and no doubt her face.

The slightly graying mustache toad opened the door and walked in and from the mirror's reflection she could see him eyeing every little corner of the room. Everything's in its place and the closets organized too she wanted to tell him reading his body language. The smell caught her attention before she noticed the serving tray in his hand.  Peach concluded she must've slept through dinner and the staff inside the castle couldn't get an answer from her, thus Toadsworth hand delivered her food himself. Cheep Cheep filet, rice, some mixed vegetables, and a cup of ice water all sat nicely on both the plate and coaster. She followed his movement as he went over to her soiled desk Noticing the mess he turned around and decided to place the tray on her bed instead.

"Peach Dear, your desk is an absolute mess. I fear that we won't be able to get a stain of that gratitude out no matter how good we wipe it" he placed his chin in between his fingers as he took in the damage. "I'll put in an order first thing in the morning and they should have a new one in here by the afternoon at the earliest." He assured her pulling out a miniature notepad and quill jotting down the reminder for himself.

Peach was about to speak up and tell him that there was no need to worry about the desk since it was still usable and the stains didn't bother her but, it seemed Toadsworth still had more to share as he continued.

"Though we're putting the final touches in your work office so there will be no need for you to bring anything extra to bed after all..."  He said as a matter of fact

"A Princess shouldn't do her work in the same space she should be getting her rest" Peach said along with him. She's heard it at least five times a day since they started working on it.

"Ah so remembered. Perfect, I'm very proud." He praised her and finally he noticed the paper on the desk. "Oh goodness was this the speech you've been working hard on?" She froze and hunched her shoulders at his question "It's simply unreadable but I trust that you finished it and took time to memorize as well. Yes?" He turned towards her and she avoided eye contact.

The long silence spoke volumes and was a dead give away of another day of procrastination. Peach figured she should at least give him something no matter how pointless it would be to him.

"I tried writing in the library and it was just too quiet. I went up to the hillside and even with Lord Bowser's company and advice, nothing came up." The scoff and 'predictable' comment at the mention of the Koopa from Toadsworth didn't go unnoticed. "I just came back home after that with the intentions of finishing it but I guess I fell asleep" she finished

Peach could feel the glare burn a hole on the side of her head as she crossed the room to get to the bathroom. From the corner of her eye she could see the disapproving shaking of his head and arms crossed. He waited for her to come out and sit down on the bed before he started talking again.

"You're cutting, finishing that speech awfully close for having two weeks on it would you not agree?" He inquired.

"I promise you I'll have it finished by tomorrow. I'll even leave it on your desk if you promise to only glance at it." She negotiated with him. 

"Have you forgotten about the last of the preparations we scheduled for the next two days? The dress rehearsal,  where the council would like to hear the speech beforehand to offer any last minute suggestion. Does all that sound familiar?" He reminded her by listing off each thing by his fingers.

All of that stuff did slip her mind but in fairness, she had 2-3 appointments everyday for the past two weeks with training sessions thrown somewhere in the mix. If Toadsworth didn't keep everything in his planner and stayed on top of her, Peach would probably be a no show at everything. He was taking his role as her royal adviser very seriously and showing that there was no one more suited for that role than he was.This stuff also reminded her of something she'd been meaning to ask him even if she already knew what he would say. There was no harm in trying though she supposed and just went for it.

"Toadsworth I was thinking, could I maybe do my own hair and makeup on the day of the coronation?" Again completely ignoring his previous inquiries. "I promise It'll look presentable." She told him. 

Toadsworth didn't answer her right away. He seemed to really be considering it and she could tell that he was mentally weighing the pros and cons of her request. The only fair reason she could see him denying her is because she's only been doing her own makeup for a couple of months. All the more reason for him to give her the opportunity to perfect the skill is what she could counter with. When Toadsworth makes up his mind about someone however, it's hard to sway him. 

"Absolutely not." He watched the hopeful expression drain from her face instantly "This is an extremely important event and it'll no doubt go down in the history books. You're still an amateur when it comes to both things and I will not have you looking any kind of way." He explained

Seemingly finished with his self rant, Peach was about to retort with a response of her own but, as soon as she opened her mouth, he did too.

"However, with it being your Birthday we'll let you have a little input in the process. Remember, everything needs to happen on time. I can't have you taking up three hours redoing your makeup or restyling your hair cause you're satisfied with it one moment and the next you're not. You do understand where I'm coming from right?" He asked her and gave himself a pat on the back when her face brightened with a wide smile. 

"That works! Thank you so much" she jumped off the bed nearly spilling the tray and knocking Toadsworth over as she wrapped her arms around him. "That's rude though I'm not that indecisive when it comes to getting ready. Give me a break" she told him half seriously.

"Would I say it if it wasn't true?" He returned the comment with a similar tone, they both shared a little laugh before. His expressions grew serious as he pulled her away from the embrace. "I do need you to get that speech done. You have till the morning of the rehearsal at the latest." She nodded eagerly.

"Pinky promise It'll be ready by then" she held out her finger waiting for him to lock together and seal the deal. He did.

"Well with that I'll be retiring to my quarters for the evening. Be sure to eat all your dinner and leave the tray in the hall for the staff to pick it up on their morning rounds." Toadsworth made his way to the doorway and Peach followed. "I'll be here at eight sharp to escort you to the first of your appointments. Do make sure you bring the paper and quill in case inspiration strikes you while we're about." He told her.

"Yes sir, Toadsworth. Goodnight and I hope you get plenty of rest." Peach wished him. Now that he mentioned eight in the morning, that reminded her how they didn't go over tomorrow's schedule. No use in saying anything about it now she figured.

"Same to you as well my dear. Please come and see me if you need anything.  I'll be up for a little while longer. " He finally said, turning to make his way down the hall.  

Peach closed the door behind him after a few moments. Not long after finishing her meal and one final trip to the bathroom for the night, she lay comfortably in bed. The only light source came from the moonlight as it shone on the desk. Even now the right words still hadn't come to her and while it was frustrating she knew thinking about it wouldn't get it done. Pushing those thoughts aside for now she faced away to stare at the door instead. Closing her eyes it took her over an hour to finally fall asleep. 

Two days came and went like a blur and Peach could not have dreaded it more with the knot in her stomach. She felt as if the moment she got out of bed, she'd puke up last night's dinner. The sunlight that greeted her, did nothing but burn her eyes and in turn hurt her head. To keep the room from spinning she laid face down and pulled both the pillow and covers over her head. Though hopeless, she wished she was maybe a week in the future already crowned and working on whatever assignment that required her attention. That same knocking on the door from two nights ago, did nothing for the way her heart was rapidly beating as she tried to curl more into herself to be as small as possible.  

"Peach My Dear, it's Toadsworth can I come in" He called out as chipper as ever. 

"Come in!" She groaned out weakly. Glad someone sounds like they're in a good mood she envied.

The knob twisted and in walked Toadsworth. Similarly to the other night, she smelled the food first but that didn't coax her one bit into removing the covers. If anything it spoiled her appetite even more.

"Happy Birthday to you my dear and here's to a wonderful coronation day." He cheered. Taking the tray over to the new desk he sat it down and finally took a better look at the bundled object on the bed. "How are you feeling?" He asked, a bit worried.

"Can we maybe...um I don't know...do this at a later date?" Peach asked him in a quiet strained voice.  She had to repeat herself a little louder as he didn't hear her the first time.

"I'm afraid not my dear, unless you're really-" he gasped aloud causing her to flinch slightly at the sound. He was at the side of her bed in an instant pulling the covers away. This made Peach finally move the pillow out the way as she stared tiredly back at him. "You're not sick are you? I should've been more observant of your health these past days." He pushed her bangs out of her face in order to feel her forehead. 

I wish Peach thought to herself miserably as Toadsworth began to mark off all the common symptoms associated with sickness. No fever, Throat feels fine, No dry cough, No stuffy or runny nose, and no red eyes. Nothing. The next thing he asked made her sit up in bed sharply, turning a bright cherry red in embarrassment.

"Oh perhaps your monthlies decided that today would be a good morning to pay you a visit. Never matter, just do what you usually do and I'll get someone to make you a herbal tea and if necessary I'll get the doctor to come over." He assured her. "My apologies for not taking this into consideration when picking a date. I should've done a better job at tracking it" he spoke aloud as he started off. He made it two steps before he felt her hand grip his turning to face her once more.

"It's not that and please don't ever track that please. I can do it on my own." She begged him.

"Well if you're not sick in any way, what seems to be troubling you this morning? We got some time to talk about it. Maybe I can help" he pulled himself up on her bed and covered her hand with both his urging to be honest and that he was listening.

"I suppose, I'm just extremely anxious about everyone's reaction to everything." She told him looking down at their hands.

Truth is all the outcomes that have come across her mind have been nothing but negative. Almost all of them ended in the same scenario: 

The toads not accepting her as their leader and banishing her to some unknown land.

Peach felt silly to think something like that would happen in a million years but, there was this nagging voice in the back of her head telling her otherwise. Other minor things included forgetting her speech and stumbling over all her words after rehearsing it repeatedly all night. There was also tripping on her feet despite being able to walk  perfectly fine in heels for years now. Finally she would rather disappear, if for some reason she just broke out in tears in front of the people that trust her to be strong regardless of what's going on. She didn't notice her breathing slightly escalate or her hands shake involuntarily until she felt Toadsworth squeeze them, bringing her back to the present.

"Words probably won't do much to ease your anxiety about this but it really is all that I can provide" He told her honestly. "I want you to take a deep breath and just take time to remember the most important thing. You know what that is right?" She followed his instruction. A deep inhale and  an exhale. Shaking her head at the question. He chuckled "I know you know it but I have no problems reminding you. Just as much as you want to succeed, we all want to see you do so as well. We'll stand by you through everything that happens. We may be bigger in numbers then when you were younger but we'll always be a community that takes care of each other, yes?" He told her confidentiality.

Toadsworth was right about both statements. While it eased her nervousness a bit, it didn't go away entirely. If it was anything she learned from growing up amongst the toads, they had unconditional love and loyalty to each other and would always be there to lift each other up no matter how bad things get. She nodded her head in agreement.

"Good. Now I'll return in an hours

 That should be enough time for you to get situated for the morning." He rubbed her hands gently before getting up to leave.

"Toadsworth" she called out to him. Pausing in the doorway he looked for her to continue. "Thank you for the wishes for earlier and I'm going to make you all proud" she promised.

"Of Course and you've already made me prouder than you'll ever know." He gave her a wide smile and with that he left.

Peach carried out her usual morning routine with a new purpose and feeling a bit better about herself. In between mouthfuls of fruits, Bowser had sent his 'gifts' to her and the staff delivered it outside her door. A potted piranha plant that she'll put on the balcony till it learns to obey or she accidentally kills it in self defense. A hefty bag of what sounded like gold coins... someone's feeling generous. Lastly a piece of paper that she at first assumed was a portrait of himself as he did that every year however, this paper was wrapped in a red ribbon. It took her a minute to realize that this was the treaty they agreed on all these years ago. Cutting it close by sending it the day off but Bowser has always done things on his time and terms.

Peach placed the document on her desk. She figured when she meets back up with Toadsworth he'll read over the details and they'll negotiate things at a later date if need be. After handing over said paper, Toadsworth took her to the hairdresser and told her that he'd see her around an hour before the event got started. They tried out multiple hairstyles yesterday to see which one she liked the most. At one point they narrowed down styles to one long single braid or just curling it and styling it in a cute updo or letting it hang down. That's when she flipped through the book and saw a variety of different hair buns so they tried them out until she found the one. Everyone loved the rose bun and they opted to brush her signature bangs in and added a small pink heart shaped hair clip. 

Peach touched up her mascara a bit, having done it earlier before coming after a couple toads applied her makeup. The toads let her put on the light pink lipstick herself. While they got outfits from other places, The toads crafted most of the clothing in her wardrobe and they went all out creating gowns just for today. She must have tried on over two dozen different custom dresses the other day. By the third hour she felt as if her legs would give out standing in one spot for so long.  Between all the yes's, no's,  try the other one on again, and if you like this one you she thought it would never end. Everyone instantly fell in love and agreed that the final dress she tried on was the one. 

A powder pink floor length spaghetti strap v-neck dress with lace on the top. For added modesty they paired it with a long cape the same color. Peach had just finished sliding on the 6-inch silver heels when one of the toads came over to her with a flat light pink gift box tied with a hot pink ribbon. It's from Toadsworth who told them to give it to her once she was dressed.  They left her alone in the room to open it and she almost broke into tears upon seeing it along with a handwritten note. A sapphire jeweled brooch and a pair of matching big sphered earrings, her favorite gemstone for as long as she could remember. 

"It's beautiful just like your eyes"  he told her when he caught her admiring the gem through the glass.

The note as simple as it was made her heart swell with happiness. It said:

" Happy Birthday my beautiful Princess,

I'm so proud of the person you're growing into. You're so confident, strong, and kind everything a good leader should be. I cannot wait to see all the amazing things you will continue to do in the future. 

Forever by your side, Toadsworth"

Peach reread it several times fully taking in all the words. With a long deep breath she folded the note and placed it inside the lid of the box. She stood in front of the mirror and put on the earrings first. She positioned the brooch in different places around her chest, before settling by pinning it in the middle. Time seemed to fly by as she admired her final appearance only pulled out of her thoughts at the toad guard asking if she was ready to be escorted to the throne room. Two of them led her in the front while two others followed behind.  The walk that seemed so short now seemed never-ending now as the nerves from earlier started making its way back up.

Too distracted to notice, the toads stopped in front of the large brown double door and she almost bumped into them. They were waiting on the green toad told her. It shouldn't be long now a yellow toad said from behind. This was it,  the real deal, her one and only chance to make a good impression as a Princess. Do it as you rehearsed and They will love it, was what she kept saying in her head. From behind the door she could barely make out the words Toadsworth was saying until he said 'I give you Peach'. 

Not wasting even a second more, both toads each took a side and pushed the door open. Peach squared her shoulders and stood tall and faced forward. The atmosphere around her went silent as they took the tread towards the steps. From the corner of her eyes she could see the orchestra of toads playing their instruments. Both sides were filled with citizens applauding and smiling at her entrance. Bowser did take his spot at the front and even he seemed to be impressed with her newfound confidence. The guards broke off to the left and right sides and pivoted facing each other as they reached the first step.

Peach continued forward as practiced. Heart beating faster with each step up. Toadsworth stood at the top holding a pillow with her golden ruby and sapphire decorated crown. The final step came quicker than she was expecting and once she was next to Toadsworth, she turned to finally face the audience. With a raise of her right arm the applause and music faded into silence. This was it she willed herself and with one final exhale she was ready to speak.

“Good afternoon my people. I want to first start off by thanking each and every one of you for being here today as I take the first step towards being someone you guys can look too for protection and to depend on to make the best choices possible for you all." She started and surprised her own self at how clear her words were coming out. "I want you all to know that you can always come to me with any concerns you have and I will hear you out through everything. I won't promise that there won't be any mistakes but I will do my best to remedy them as soon as they happen. It is with the love and kindness you've shown me all my life that has taught me what it means to grow a  community. So I promise to take all those teachings and put them into practice to keep it growing. Thank you for giving me the chance to be your leader. I won't let you down" She finished with a graceful curtsy to them all and once again the audience erupted in applause and cheers.

"You may now kneel" Toadsworth told her and the audience once again went silent as she followed his instructions. 

She felt the crown being placed on her head. It's as if with that one object all the responsibilities fell on her shoulders at once. While anxious about it, at the same time, she was ready to take on those challenges to the best of her abilities.

"You may rise." Again at his word, she did as he asked. "I give you all the first in name. Princess Peach Toadstool of the mushroom kingdom. May she do amazing things for us all" Toadsworth announced.

"All Hail Princess Peach" The entire throne room was filled with toads shouting the phrase over and over again. The Koopa King himself even joined in.

Peach was ready to show them all what she was really capable of.

[wrenreid]

Off Limits

content warnings: daddy issues

Part Eight

“Jade,” my father’s voice follows his knocking on my door. “Jade, can I come in?”

I’m still laying in bed, but I’ve been awake for about an hour. It’s around 10am, and I’ve just been on my phone.

“Please?”

“If you have coffee, then yes,” I say.

My father comes into my bedroom. “No coffee, but I do have an apology.”

“I’m listening,” I tell him, not even looking up from my phone.

“Could you at least look at me?”

I look up, setting my phone on my chest.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. You’re an adult, and you can go to parties if you want to. It won’t keep me from worrying because that’s my job as your father, but I’ll try to stop commenting on it,” my father tells me.

I’m almost so shocked that I could laugh. I don’t, but I could. I don’t think he’s ever apologized for something like this. He always validated his judgmental and overprotective habits by saying he’s not just my father, but he’s also an FBI agent and knows what goes on in the world.

That has always annoyed me. I know what goes on in the world too. Hell, my Mother died from part of what goes on in the world. But that doesn’t mean I should live in fear and shy away from having fun. It just means I need to know how to handle myself. I need to be cautious but not so cautious to where it takes over my entire life. I’m not going to lock myself in my apartment and be scared of the life outside of it.

“Thank you for the apology,” I say, sitting up a little straighter. “I think you need to worry a little less about what I’m doing in my life and focus more on the kid you have that needs you more.”

Dad sighs, but nods. “Are you saying you don’t need me?”

“I’ll always need you, but Jack is a lot younger than I am. He still needs you to make sure he takes a bath,” I say with a soft smile. “Just let me be 21, okay?”

Another sigh releases from his lips. “Okay. There’s breakfast downstairs if you’re hungry.”

I give him a thumbs up, and he leaves my room.

I think that was some father - daughter progress right there. I don’t trust that he’s going to be off my back, but I have hope that he’ll keep to his word and chill out a little.

Dad, Jack, and I have family time for four days until Dad is called about a case in Michigan. He’s hesitant to go at first, but I tell him it’s fine.

I’m used to him grabbing the duffel bag he always keeps packed and heading out the door with a kiss on my forehead. What’s new?

I’m a little annoyed, though. Four days was all we had until he flew off to another state.

“You’re missing my recital?” An 11 year old Jade whined, my arms crossed.

“I’m so sorry, princess. I have to go to work,” Dad said, that black duffel bag in his hand.

“But you just got home! And I’m going to be in the front!” I felt the tears welling up in my eyes, and I choked them back.

My father frowned, sighing softly. He bent down to my level, holding my hand. “Mom will video it for me. I have to go help people. Do you understand?”

I nodded, but I hardly understood, especially at a young age.

When I was around seven years old, my mom put me in dance classes to occupy some of my time and allow me to have an activity that would get my energy out. I loved it, but I wouldn’t say I was great at it. I stayed in the classes until I was 12 and was tired of my dad never being able to make any of the recitals or daddy- daughter rehearsals since he joined the BAU.

He gave me a small, relieved smile before kissing my forehead. “I’ll be back soon. You’ll do amazing tomorrow.” He kissed my disappointed looking mother quickly then went out the door.

Jack and I are left alone for some sibling bonding time, which usually means watching and playing whatever he wants. I guess I don’t mind too much; I have nothing better to do on a Wednesday afternoon.

A part of me wishes Spencer was here with us again. He would have entertained Jack easily and said some interesting facts stored in his magnificent brain. He’s also not a bad sight to look at.

—————

“You do not have to do that,” I tell my boss assuringly.

“Oh c’mon, let me pay you back somehow,” he says, using his stern voice.

“Okay,” I press my lips together and nod.

Hotch suggested he take me out to dinner as a thank you for watching over Jack last week. I don’t think it necessary since it wasn’t any trouble, but he insists.

I wonder if Jade would be there when he buys me dinner. A part of me hopes she won’t be, but another part wants to see her again.

I don’t know why I’ve been thinking about her as much as I have. It’s not as if she is all I think about, but I find her sneaking her way into my thoughts when I’m eating popcorn or even playing chess.

I tell myself it’s not wrong to think about a person. We as humans think about billions of things, and other humans are a part of those thoughts. But it still feels like I am doing something I shouldn’t when I see her face in my mind.

You’d think someone as smart as I am would understand why she’s inhabiting my brain at least a few times a day, but I haven’t.

The jet ride is finally over, and the six of us step onto solid ground.

For the next two days and two nights, we’re in Michigan solving a case of four murders.

It’s Friday afternoon when we’re back in Quantico, and Hotch is still determined to buy my dinner. I agree when he says to meet him at the restaurant at 7.

After finishing paperwork, I leave the office around three.

—————

“Well, yeah we’re going with you,” I tell Dad, “I don’t want to cook dinner.”

He laughs softly. “Alright. Be ready by 6:30.”

I’m glad he wasn’t gone for too long. There’s no telling how many days cases will take. Some take two, and some can take up to a week or two.

I take a shower at 5, giving myself enough time to let it air dry most of the way before using a little heat.

Dad hates when I take my phone into the bathroom with me when I’m showering. It’s not like he thinks I’m taking pictures or anything- or at least I assume he doesn’t think that. But he’s always scolding me about the steam getting into my charging port and fucking up my phone, which he reminds me every time that he will not buy me a new one so I learn my lesson. Of course, he would buy me a new one because he needs to call me three times a day while I’m at school just to see how and what I’m doing.

I sing along to the music playing from my phone that rests on the counter top. As one can see, I’m not very keen on listening.

Once I’m sure I’ve taken a too-long shower, I step out, dry off, tie my hair up into a t shirt to help dry it, and go to my room.

I throw on some straight leg jeans that are form fitting around my ass and thighs but flow down the rest of my legs spaciously. I then put on a navy blue long sleeved crop top and my white hightop converse.

After my hair dries most of the way, I blow dry it to add some volume. I keep my makeup light, just mascara, eyeliner, and a bit of concealer.

I’m not dressing up for Spencer as much as I almost want to. This is my usual look. Plus, I think if I did dress up a little my dad would notice and I’d be embarrassed as hell.

I meet Jack and Dad at the door at 6:27, and we head out to the restaurant. We park next to Spencer’s car. He’s always early to everything. I admire that.

He gets out, greeting my dad, Jack, then me. He gives me a little wave, seeming awkward and almost nervous. I shoot him a smile.

Spencer opens the door for us. “Thank you,” I say softly as I walk past him.

The dinner’s going well. Dad and Spencer are making conversation, and me and my brother are brought into it occasionally.

We’re waiting for our food when Jack stands up, doing his little ‘I’ve got to pee’ dance. Dad takes him to the bathroom.

“So how was the case?” I ask, resting my head on my hands as I look across the table to Spencer.

“It went well, and it didn’t take too long. Overall successful,” he says nonchalantly.

“What, no interesting facts about it?” I tease, a flirty smile on my face.

I may not be able to act on my crush, but can at least flirt a little.

“Well, I learned what twilight is,” he chuckles softly.

I laugh too. “You’ve never heard of twilight?”

“Not until yesterday, no,” he says innocently, confused as to why I’m shocked.

“It’s a pretty well known franchise.”

“Maybe I should look into them?”

“No,” I laugh a little harder. “You shouldn’t. They’re kind of awful.”

“Oh,” he presses his lips together, his cheeks pink.

I eye him with a smile. “It’s cute when you do that.”

“D-do what?” Spencer asks me. The blush on his cheeks gets darker, and he avoids eye contact.

“That,” I giggle softly. “The nervous lip thing and looking down.”

“Thank you?” He clears his throat nervously.

“You’re welcome, doctor,” I say with a grin.

Before I’m about to say something else flirty, my dad comes back with Jack. They sit down, and I sit up straight before giving Spencer a look.

He’s adorable when he’s flustered. And I probably, no I definitely, shouldn’t be teasing him like this, but what’s the harm in flirting? I probably won’t see him again for a while.

It’s also refreshing to flirt with someone who doesn’t try to fuck you after you say one thing. Instead he’s all red faced and nervous. I like it.

Maybe I’ll have to toy with this a little more. I need something to entertain me.

—————

I feel like a blubbering mess.

What was she doing? Was that flirting? I think so. But why?

Jade made me feel something that I definitely shouldn’t have. I was all hot and nervous, and my stomach was fluttering.

I’ve been flirted with before, sure usually it’s prostitutes and older women, but it’s still flirting. So why is it that when Jade did it I could barely say anything, and I just sat there blushing?

I was sort of relieved when the night ended, and I went back to my apartment. It’s not that I didn’t want to see her, because for whatever reason I did, but I needed to get away from all the blushing and butterflies in my stomach.

My boss’s daughter should not be making me blush and queazy. She shouldn’t be flirting with me either, and I shouldn’t allow it… but I kind of liked it. At least just a little bit.

It was just one little flirty conversation though. We won’t see each other often anymore because she’s not in the city much, and I’m busy with work. Good.

I couldn’t help but notice her scent and smile as she walked past me earlier when I held the door open for her. Her beautiful fragrance hit my nose and made me want to follow her mindlessly like those stupid, no talking cartoons like Tom and Jerry. Jade flashed me a smile too, a friendly, and now that I’m thinking about it, flirty smile.

I’ve got to get her off my mind. She’s my boss’s kid, and that’s all she is. She’s young, and young people like to flirt with no meaning nowadays. It’s just a fun little game to them.

I head to bed, a book in my hand. My eyes skim over the pages quickly, but I’m only retaining half of the words. The other half of my brain is filled with Jade.

nine

tags: @pauline5525mgg @theintimatewriter r @lilibet261 1 @greysviolets @jazzymariexoxoc @one-sweet-gubler @thatsonezesty13 @necromaniackat @awhoreforspencerreid @sebs-oxygen @scarredelirium @bts-sugaplum m @awesomeness1679 @preciousbabypeter @yazzyu @cynbx @r3idsp3ncer @1010lizz @tiredbut-here @skulzombiw @lena-1895 <3

[anerdinallherglory]

Approaching Sun (33)

Author’s Note: Hello everyone! All this SasuSaku content we’ve been blessed with over the last couple of months had my heart hungry for more, so I got to typing! As always, sorry for the delay, but I hope this chapter is worth the wait. To all my readers who have been with me from the beginning, do not lose hope for me! And new readers, welcome to a world of waiting on me to get my crap together. Thanks again for the support!  

Pairing: SasuSaku

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32

Chapter 33: Interrogations

Watching her friends exit through the doorway of the Kazekage’s office, Sakura couldn’t help but feel relieved as the rest of Team 7 and Shikamaru trailed behind Sasuke and Kankuro to the Sand Village Prison. Sakura’s cheeks were still a little red, taken by surprise at Sasuke’s unexpected appearance just now. Sakura mentally berated herself for the flushed reaction, especially after rehearsing in her head all morning how she would come off much more composed during their reunion after the whole kissing thing last night. She had matured a lot from her Genin days, and was usually very collected around her peers now (except Naruto, maybe, who sometimes brough out her temper), but seeing Sasuke assessing her own reaction with a certain white-haired sensei’s watchful, knowing eye had Sakura acting like her schoolgirl self again. She cringed at her own embarrassed behavior.  

Suddenly, the Kazekage’s voice brought her back to the matter at hand. “Even though it is not ideal, there’s some logic behind Shikamaru’s suggestion.”

Sakura nodded, remembering her friend’s proposition regarding the anti-peace group targeting Sakura for her mental health-centered endeavors. Shikamaru had offered a solution to their dilemma on finding the rest of the group’s members, but it involved using Sakura as a lure for her enemies. It’s not that Sakura was opposed to the idea; she wasn’t worried in the slightest, actually. She was just annoyed with the problem at hand. She was making progress here in the Sand with the mental health clinic and she was reluctant to put that on hold while she dealt with these war-focused sociopaths. At least, she told herself that if she were to draw them out, she wouldn’t have to go looking for them in Tanigakure, but she had another concern regarding that.

She voiced this concern to Gaara, saying, “Drawing such a crowd into your village might pose a risk to the citizens here.” He shook his head thoughtfully at that, and Sakura wondered why Gaara might be willing to take such a risk all in the name of her safety. If anything, it would be more appropriate for Konoha to take such an action since she was a Leaf Shinobi, after all. Or was it really her safety that inspired Gaara to do so?

“They were able to infiltrate here through the clinic which I take personal responsibility for. It’s not in my nature to overlook such an offense so easily and I believe I owe this to you as an apology for failing to keep you safe.” Gaara’s rasping voice faded away as he assessed her reaction and Sakura saw a faint ember of emotion in his typical stoic eyes that accompanied the apology. She found herself blushing for the second time as she reassured him that everything was fine and that it was her fault for leading them here from Tanigakure in the first place.

When she brought up Tanigakure, Gaara interjected, “If we settle the matter within my country, we would be sparing Tanikagure from getting involved more than they already have. They have not taken too kindly to our investigative presence the last twenty-four hours. I thought that involving Konoha would make it seem more diplomatic, but Shikamaru’s suggestion might be best. We don’t want another situation on our hands where a small country is caught between two nations.”

Sakura nodded again at the Kazekage’s rationale, acknowledging the truth and importance of his words. “I’m willing to do anything I can to help,” she finally declared, already wondering how she would manage to entice them here.

“Let’s think it over more carefully and discuss it more tomorrow,” he said, relaxing into the chair behind his desk. “We have discovered a couple of leads that we need to explore and thinking of a plan will take some time. Meanwhile, I’d like to ask your opinion on something.”

“Okay,” Sakura responded, making to sit in the chair Gaara indicated with his hand across from the desk. A part of her wanted to grill the Kazekage for more details about the group in Tanigakure, so she could know the ins and outs about those who wanted to target her, but Sakura also believed that the shadow-being she had gone up against was most likely the scariest of them all to face, so she wasn’t too worried about the details. And if Gaara didn’t offer her more information than that, then he was probably holding back for official related reasons. So, she let it go.

“We also talked about a mental health treatment for adults as well as children. Should we begin with those you’ve captured and brought to me?”

Sakura blinked at such a statement as she recalled her conversation with the Kazekage as they strolled together along the sun-lit avenues of sand toward the village’s entrance a few days ago. “It has been an inaccuracy to think that only children could suffer,” Sakura had said to Gaara, “What if we included adults in our mental health program, too?” Gaara must have taken the proposition very seriously at the time, considering how quickly he was choosing to take action toward such a goal.

Sakura couldn’t help but hesitate in response to Gaara’s sudden proposition. Could someone like her really get through to those people, the people she had gone toe to toe with in the desert—the very people who had set out to kill her for the sole reason of her mental health efforts? She wasn’t sure.

“I’ll be there,” came the hoarse reassurance of the sand wielding Kage before her. Seeds of hope suddenly embedded themselves within her heart of doubt. “I’ll help you start.”

Sakura nodded, offering the Kazekage a smile of gratitude. Just before they had viewed the sunset together, Sakura had meant the words she had told Gaara in response to the question of who would be best to help people in need: “Like you, Lord Kazekage.” Even though Sakura silently pondered how Gaara had the availability to help her begin this process, Gaara had the same noble way as Naruto of making others believe in him.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sasuke sneered beyond Naruto’s shoulder as his friend knelt before the sand encased jail cell containing one of Sakura’s attackers. They had separated him from the other two, all of whom Sasuke had transported via Kaguya’s dimensions back into the Sand Village. Sasuke knew Naruto’s hands itched in the same way his did as they both witnessed Mako’s silent interrogation. The medic revealed very little as Suna’s renowned questioner sat before him just on the other side of the bars, ticking off questions one by one.

“How did you manage to subdue the medical kunoichi known as Sakura Haruno?” the investigator asked without skipping a beat.

“I drugged her. Isn’t that already obvious?” came Mako’s tort and honest reply. It was as good enough as any confession as far as Sasuke was concerned, so what was the point of continuing this charade of a civil investigation? Sasuke knew it was morally wrong to skip necessary processes and jump straight to the physical force required to extract the information he wanted, but it was hard to kick old habits of thinking.

The questioning continued. “You expect us to believe that you were able to drug an elite medical ninja without assistance? Who helped you sedate her and what was the method used?”

Mako let out a small derisive laugh that had the Uchiha narrowing his eyes lethally in the traitor’s direction. “You’re overestimating her. All I did was pretend to be her colleague and slip something into her drink. Someone who desperately wants a friend isn’t difficult to deceive.”

Mako’s declaration did two things for Sasuke. First, it was like a heavy stone dropped in Sasuke’s heart, for he felt so terribly guilty about his and Sakura’s falling-out immediately post-kiss in the medicine preparation room two nights ago. Had Sasuke left her feeling so eager for kindness that she had dropped her guard? These same words also ignited a rage so savage within the Uchiha that he felt like stepping through a portal, just to stand on the other side of these bars, inches away from the man who had the audacity to say that about Sakura.

Sasuke smirked when Naruto’s angry voice echoed throughout the jail from his place beside the Uchiha: “Drugging Sakura was that last thing you’ll ever do, you BASTARD!” Sasuke was somewhat relieved that his friend was getting worked up, too, and had actually spoken Sasuke’s mind for him.

“Calm down, Naruto,” Kakashi stated predictably, and Sasuke wanted to roll his eyes at his sensei’s typical levelheaded lecturing. “You too, Sasuke,” Kakashi ordered next, placing hands on both of their shoulders. “The last thing we need is for either of you to get involved in this personally.” Sasuke wanted to flash his sensei an affronted look for even comparing him to his loser best friend or suggesting that he was getting angry on Sakura’s behalf, but Sasuke dropped the pretense. What was the point of pretending he wasn’t just as pissed as Naruto? The Uchiha’s annoyance was visibly displayed on his face in colors of red and purple. He so desperately wished Mako would turn in his direction, catch his sharingan and spiral into the memory-searching genjutsu Sasuke had prepared for him. He would find the answers without all this unnecessary time wasting. But Sasuke knew that Mako knew better than to search him out; he had witnessed what Sasuke had done with Satou in the hospital room to learn just what he needed to know about Isao, the child Sakura cared for.

Again, Naruto voiced both their thoughts by arguing, “We are already personally involved. He drugged our teammate. She’s one of us! The least we should do is teach this guy a lesson.”

“Hn,” Sasuke breathed in agreement, surprising himself for allowing the sound to reveal his own private thinking. When Kakashi, Shikamaru, and Naruto looked over at him in surprise, Sasuke decided to further add: “we need to find out where the other ninja of this group are.”

“It appears to me that Sakura accomplished that herself, Naruto,” Shikamaru chimed in, pointing out the wounds still not fully healed on the young traitorous medic. “We’ll get the information soon enough.”

After the interrogator jotted down a few private notes on the table between him and Mako, the green-haired man pushed the round frames of his glasses back up the bridge of his nose as he made eye contact with Mako again. “Where is the rest of your group?”

“There isn’t any more. You’ve apprehended all who were a part of it,” Mako replied immediately.  

Then the green-haired investigator sighed, pulling his glasses off in irritability. “I despise liars. I have methods of making you talk. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have this job. But the Kazekage—he is the only thing between you and my preferred methods of interrogation.”

Why would the Kazekage hold back against this scum, Sasuke thought silently to himself. This fake had infiltrated Gaara’s village who knows how long ago, targeted the mental health clinic Sakura had helped establish here, posed as a caring and concerned medic, earned everyone’s trust, and betrayed Sakura at just the right time.

“I’m not lying,” Mako seethed.

The green-haired man, who Sasuke grew to like more and more as he questioned Mako, narrowed his eyes and leaned across the table and said, “I’ll let you in on a secret. Do you really think that the Kazekage does not have all the answers to these questions? Why then, do you think I’m wasting my time questioning you? Think really hard, I’m sure you’re capable of figuring it out.”

And with that whispered revelation, Sasuke couldn’t help but review Kankuro’s words from yesterday in his mind: “With unmentionable methods, we were able to find out who their target was.” Did this mean that Gaara already knew how many were in the group from an interrogation that Gaara had conducted back in Tanigakure?

Naruto snickered loudly at the divulgement of the Kazekage’s secret, interrupting Sasuke’s thoughts, and Sasuke noticed that Mako couldn’t help but locate the blonde-haired jinchuriki who observed him. Mako’s face turned slightly white as he realized for the first time who exactly had been making so much noise outside his cell. Sasuke noted his fear of Naruto as a good thing and smirked when Mako made a point of dropping his gaze and locating Sasuke’s figure next, eyes trained solely on his legs. Mako’s fear of him was even better.  

“Have you figured it out yet?” the interrogator asked, laughter in the question.

Mako’s eyes widened suddenly, not because he had solved anything, but because the Kazekage was suddenly there in the flesh, standing beside the green-haired ninja with a palm on his shoulder. “Enough, Kizumo. Let’s stop here.”

Glancing back at the Kazekage, the green-haired ninja sighed and let the pen he was holding drop and roll across the notepad on the table in frustration at having his job cut short.

“We will take care of this one,” the Kazekage rasped, gesturing to newly formed entrance at the back of the sand-bodied cell. “Go and see what you can learn from the shade. Don’t touch him but do what you need to do.”

A wicked smile replaced the disappointed frown on Kizumo’s face. “I won’t have to touch him, Lord Kazekage.” And with that, he exited hurriedly through the hole in the wall that Gaara had formed.

But Sasuke was hung up on the word Gaara had used at the beginning of his command to Kizumo: We? We will take care of this one?

Just as Sasuke had that thought, his stomach dropped when his pink-haired teammate entered the cell through the hole as well, Gaara gesturing for her to take the seat across from Mako that Kizumo had just vacated.

Sasuke was certain that the same frown he now wore, not only occupied his own face at seeing Sakura face the man who had betrayed her, but Naruto’s and Kakashi’s as well.

“Punch his face in, Sakura!” Naruto called to her from the other side of the cell, and Sakura turned to find him. She smiled at Naruto, reassuring him that all was okay. She found Sasuke’s multicolored eyes next, lingered on them for half a second, before turning back to Mako.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sakura shuffled the papers in a yellow file that Gaara had given her to look through before they came to Suna’s prison. The papers contained many details about Mako, his activity within the village, and his alleged backstory. “Every non-Suna born citizen has a special documentation file,” Gaara had relayed casually as they descended the steps into the underground sand-constructed prison, “with information regarding their activity and how they came to be here. It might not be much use since its mostly filled with his lies, but I figured if anyone could discern anything valuable, you might.”

“I’ll try,” Sakura had assured him, flipping through the record carefully as they walked. In truth, the file didn’t contain much out of the ordinary—or what she would expect for Mako. He had come to the village a year ago, claiming to be from a small island asking to join the medic team, claiming to be a part of the elite medic unit in Tanigakure and would like to learn from the medical advancements here. Unsuspicious of an individual hailing from a non-ninja nation, Gaara saw Mako’s knowledge of medicine as an asset and granted his request, offering Mako a place and lodging. His activity was also unremarkable as he spent the last year learning from medical staff Sakura had helped train.

Hisa, unexpectedly, did not have a file. In fact, she had managed to somehow infiltrate the village secretly, and Sakura suspected that Mako had succeeded in smuggling her in. Sakura wasn’t surprised that Gaara addressed this topic with Mako first.

“You smuggled your counterpart inside the village via the medical trade route, am I correct? When receiving medical supplies from Tanigakure, an advanced medical country, she came with and was disguised as someone with a position in the building. Is any of that wrong?” The examination was calm, unthreatening, just as if Gaara had been talking to Kankuro or Temari. The way he phrased the questions revealed that Gaara had already figured this particular scenario out.

Mako kept his eyes down, focusing on the file in Sakura’s hands. She guessed that he was evaluating its thickness carefully, determining just how much information about him and his co-conspirators was already contained within. Would he bothering lying in the Kazekage’s face, Sakura wondered.

“If you’re going to end up killing me, just get on with it,” Mako replied behind clenched teeth, his silence about Hisa revealing Gaara had been correct in his guesswork.

And to Sakura’s surprise, sand began to spiral at Mako’s feet and in just a few seconds, it reached up to form manacles around the imposter’s wrists, jerking them back behind the chair so that he was properly restrained. “If that is your wish,” Gaara responded calmly to Mako’s now wide-eyed expression of fear. “The path of life you have currently chosen will lead to your death anyway.”

Large heaps of sand began to fall from the ceiling around Mako, filling the room rapidly with sand like a tipped upside-down hourglass. Creating an invisible barrier across the cement table between them, Gaara allowed the sand to crash down around the conspirator so that only Mako’s side of the sand-bodied interrogation room began to rise around his feet like water in a cave during high tide. Sakura’s heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest.

The room buzzed loudly, and sand whipped through Sakura’s hair as the grains were summoned in Mako’s direction. Gaara’s voice was still intense enough to be heard despite his overall composure and the humming of the sand as if this very room was designed to emphasize it. “My sand delights at the blood of others and I’ve killed many before you. Since you have volunteered your life, it eagerly accepts.”

Mako began to shift anxiously as the sand reached his shoulders and he bit his bottom lip in steely resolve to quiet his quickened breathing and accept his fate. Gaara’s slow voice continued, “When someone chooses a life of darkness, a life of hatred and evil, and puts their life on the line for a cause accomplished through darkness, they are only marching towards an inevitable death.”

Sakura glanced over at Gaara in concern as the sand billowed like a wave around Mako’s chin and Mako leaned his head back and strained his neck above it, gasping for the last few breaths of oxygen belonging to him in this world.

“Why so?” Gaara asked, composed and relaxed despite the struggling man before him. “Because you have pit yourself against those who share a stronger vision—one of peace and hope and love. Naturally, the odds will be against you.”

“Stop,” came Mako’s desperate voice at last, sand knocking against the sides of his head. “Please. Stop!”

“Do you choose life?” Gaara asked Mako, and the long-subdued tears began to spill over the rims of his eyelids.

“Yes!” he cried, but the sand did not stop ascending around him. “I said yes! Don’t kill me! MAKE IT STOP!”

“Not good enough. Which life do you choose?” Gaara probed, crossing his arms over his chest in resolve to wait for the answer he wanted.

“A peaceful—" Mako whimpered, sand choking off the words as it filled his throat.

Gaara watched him thrash for just a moment and Sakura tried desperately to hold herself back despite the Kazekage’s hesitation. She had chosen to trust the Kazekage as someone to align herself with for the sake of the lives almost lost to an all-consuming darkness. He wanted to help them just as much as her. These corrupt ninja were not children as Sakura was used to. She would trust Gaara’s judgement.

Finally. Finally, the sand relented, ascending once more into the air to reconstruct the ceiling above the jail cell. And as Mako coughed violently, rubbing sand from his eyes and ears, Gaara made a final statement that made Sakura realize that only Gaara would be the savior of these ninja: “Rather than a life a loneliness, we surround ourselves with evil people. Such a life is worse because you will lose your soul to the hatred within you, no longer caring for the feeling of comradery, and you might as well be dead anyway.”

Mako sat in his chair gasping like beached ocean creature that waited for death on a bed of sand.

“I too, was like you,” Gaara announced, voice softening as he recalled the sand from Mako’s lungs and hair. “Until someone extended a hand in friendship.” Gaara gestured over his shoulder to Naruto who grinned heartily and rubbed the back of his neck shyly at Gaara’s recognition of him.  

“Can you take over from here Sakura?” Gaara asked her, and she nodded, watching the Kazekage’s back as he turned in Naruto and Kakashi’s direction. When the sand bars of the cell disintegrated as he passed through them, Sakura once again found herself grateful to be considered a friend of Gaara’s and not an enemy. She had faced him head on once before, and was thankful every day afterward that Naruto had extended that hand of friendship to his fellow jinchuriki.  

“Come with me,” Gaara said to the waiting Leaf ninja, “there’s another ninja you need to see. He possesses an ability like yours, Shikamaru.” Kakashi and Shikamaru immediately followed the Kazekage, and Naruto lingered for a moment, offering a hesitant look back at Sakura as he was conflicted at being summoned away from her. The blonde ninja glanced back over to Sasuke who seemed to be content just where he was as he perched himself against the wall just across from Mako’s cell, eyes closed as if he were settling to doze. Naruto rushed to Gaara’s side once he was certain Sasuke planned to stay behind.

When Sakura turned back to Mako, he was rubbing his wrists where Gaara’s sand had bound him. He chose not to look at the pink-haired medic he had betrayed, instead shamefully focusing back on the table between them. He shifted painfully, and Sakura noted for the first time that blood ran in tendrils down to his feet from his previously sustained injuries, injuries Sakura had yet to heal.

Standing, she made her way around to Mako’s back, lifting the material around the stab wound to assess it. Mako hissed in pain as the material lifted from the wound. “What are you doing?” he murmured.

“Healing you fully,” she explained, rolling up the back of his shirt against Mako’s stiffening protest.

“Don’t,” he said weakly as Sakura tugged the shirt the rest of the way up and over his head. “Save your strength. You’ll need it.” She frowned at the wound that now festered from incomplete treatment. At some point in his capture and detainment, Mako had reopened the wound. Sakura had only staunched the bleeding with her chakra immediately after rendering the other two of her enemies unconscious on the desert battlefield, and now the skin puckered with redness and swelling.

“Why is that?” Sakura asked calmly, already predicting his next answer.

“There’s more of them waiting,” he whispered quietly, so that not even Sasuke who indignantly peeked at them under thick eyelashes, could overhear. “They’ll come for you.”  

Summoning the green chakra to her fingertips despite his warning, Sakura pressed her fingers to the open rip in Mako’s flesh and he gasped. “Why do you tell me this?” she asked him. “Have you really chosen to seek a new life of peace like you promised the Kazekage? Or was that a lie just to save your own neck?”

“Once they find me, and realize I have betrayed the cause, they’ll kill me anyway,” Mako whispered again. “The Kazekage has shown me mercy, but they will not. I cannot choose a life of peace even if I wish it.”

Sakura frowned, glancing over the top of his dark head of hair to admire Sasuke from a distance. Sasuke had been able to choose peace because he had the support of others. As did Gaara. This meant that they both had friends who were willing to go against the world in order to protect their choices to start over. Mako didn’t have that.

“Why did you join them? Do you really believe that there needs to be hatred and war circulating throughout the ninja world?” Sakura asked him honestly, chakra sputtering and dying as she suddenly ran empty. Her breathing quickened as a headache began to form at her temples. She cursed internally at her low supply of chakra. She needed more rest. She still hadn’t fully recovered from the battle, had used what chakra she had possessed healing Isao this morning, and was also consistently feeding a stream of chakra to her injured hand. The freshly healed wound on Mako’s back was enough to reassure her despite the strain. At least he was restored.

“I needed a place in this world. Their vision made sense to me.”

Sakura nodded, returning to the chair exhaustedly. She closed Mako’s file and said, “You had a place. You have a place.”

His eyebrows raised, as he mentally processed what she was suggesting.

“We need you,” she said to him, emotion thickening her already tired voice. “I need you—by my side in the mental health clinics when I’m here, and running things in my place when I’m not. I’ve never had such a competent partner before.”

Mako stared back at her and Sakura saw the confliction in his eyes. “How can you say that to someone who betrayed you? I drugged you. I had every intention of handing you over to them to do as they wished.”

This was true, and the reality of it twisted in her heart. However, Mako had also refused to let Hisa kill her, insisting that she was too valuable to kill right away.

“Everyone deserves a second chance,” she smiled, making to stand behind the table. “Forgiveness is how we will manage to create a peaceful world.”

Mako looked down at his feet again as Sakura turned back toward the hole in the wall that Gaara had morphed into existence. Her head was throbbing terribly now, and Sakura massaged her eyes.

“Ok,” Mako said to Sakura’s retreating form, and Sakura turned back just before reaching the exit. “If I somehow make it out of this alive, I’ll do it. I’ll help you with the mental health clinics. I’ll help you achieve peace. In return for your forgiveness, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

Sakura blinked at Mako, feeling somewhat comforted by the fact that even though he had betrayed her and did some terrible things, he still had goodness in him. Sakura hadn’t entirely been fooled by Mako because he was still someone worthy of forgiveness. “Deal,” Sakura nodded, taking the last step from his cell and entering a small sand tunnel that would eventually connect her back to the main stairway. As if on cue of her exiting, the tunnel closed itself off behind her, leaving Mako to take the first mental steps toward a new life.  

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

As soon as the wall had sealed her away from Mako, Sasuke was there, reaching for her as she leaned against the wall to hold her head. Sakura jumped when his hand found her upper arm, surprised at his sudden appearance.

“Sasuke,” she breathed, trying to smile despite the pain. “You shouldn’t be wasting your chakra teleporting carelessly.”

Sasuke scoffed as he forced her to sit against one of the tunnel walls, “You’re one to talk,” he chastised, summoning a little chakra to the palm of his only hand. “Draining the last of your chakra healing lying snakes like that one. How annoying.”

She laughed nonchalantly and Sasuke wrapped his glowing hand around the back of her neck, focusing what healing powers he possessed to the center of her nape, pushing the chakra up into her skull. As Sasuke had watched her with Mako, the Uchiha had detected a drop in her chakra signal and saw her hand reach up to touch her eyes. He had known in that very moment that she had wasted what little chakra she had left on that bastard.

After a second, she pushed against Sasuke’s elbow weekly, signaling him to stop. “That’s plenty.”

Sasuke ignored her, pressing his fingers gently into her skin so she couldn’t remove them by fighting him. “Let me have my way, or we’ll be here longer,” he mimicked, repeating to Sakura her very own words when Sasuke had pushed her hand away from his forehead last night after he had overdosed on chakra pills.

She laughed in response, her voice already beginning to strengthen from the newfound energy. Her damn inhuman strength also returned slightly, because she was suddenly pulling his palm away from her neck and no amount of his strength would be comparable enough to hers to keep it there, no matter how much he might want to.

Sakura didn’t let go of it though as Sasuke expected, but instead grasped it with her own as she, too, used her other hand to gently cup her fingers around the back of Sasuke’s neck. There was no healing or sharing of chakra as he had done for her, and Sasuke realized that Sakura simply just wanted to experience the same sensation Sasuke had felt by touching her there.

Sasuke was thankful for the darkness because the sudden intimacy made him blush and react instinctively. He smoothly pulled at her fingers, pulling her hand down so that the inside of her elbow hung over his neck instead, and he used her arm to help lift her from the ground. Sasuke led her down the dim tunnel that Gaara had apparently fashioned. What a mole Gaara was, Sasuke thought for a second, cutting corners and creating paths through the sand so he could make it from point A to point B in the shortest distance possible.

“Sorry,” Sakura whispered beside him, she too, relishing this apparent excuse of supporting her to be so near to one another. “I know physical contact isn’t really one of your strengths. If I do something that makes you uncomfortable, please tell me.”

Sasuke nodded, not quite sure what he wanted to say to that. Yes, displays of affection would always be…difficult, especially if anyone else was around. But there was a growing part of Sasuke that craved Sakura in ways he didn’t know were within him. Just moments ago, he had watched her lift the back of Mako’s shirt and run her hands along the traitor’s back and Sasuke had never frowned so deeply in his life at seeing her do so. She had performed such an action on countless ninja, including everyone in Team 7 at one point or another, and Sasuke couldn’t understand why such an act now suggested something more sensual. She had healed him on his back before and Sasuke had never been bothered by her touch, but he suddenly couldn’t stop imagining her fingers there. He had never had thoughts like this before, but then again, Sasuke had also never reached for a woman in the dark of a shared room, finding her lips with his mouth. Sasuke had crossed a line that he knew would require self-control from here on out.

“Let’s get you back to the room,” Sasuke stated as he shuffled her more securely against him. “You need rest so that you can recover.”

When they made it back to the inn which was conveniently not too far away from the underground prison, Sasuke opened the door for Sakura and stood within the frame after she entered. Observing her climb into bed and settling within the blankets, Sasuke asked something that had been bothering him ever since it occurred, “What did Mako tell you?”

“About what,” she requested in return for clarification.

“When he told you to save your chakra,” Sasuke prompted, probing his female friend’s mind for information despite her exhaustion. He had to know the details if he were going to keep her safe.

“Oh,” Sakura announced, sitting up on an elbow as she recalled the words. “He said there were more of them out there, the group that was after us in Tanigakure.”

Sasuke nodded, his suspicions confirmed. He had already guessed this, considering he had yet to find someone with the correct size and voice as the ninja he had confronted in the hallway of Tanigakure’s inn after the ninja had made an attempt to get Sakura to answer her door.

“I’m going back to the prison,” Sasuke said suddenly, waiting a moment more in the doorframe for a response.

Knowing him well, Sakura answered the question the Uchiha held on his tongue before he could even speak it. “I’ll be fine. Go.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

When Sakura finally woke, it was dark in the room, except for the small ray of light shining in through the window from the crescent moon. Sakura rubbed the back of her stiff neck, not realizing until now that she had slept on it crookedly, her exhaustion apparently dragging her so deep into a sleep that she slept the entire day away.

When she sat up, she started in surprise to see that Sasuke was still awake, sitting on his bed across the room, staring out the window. Sakura instantly recognized the fierce set of his jaw as one of annoyance.

“Sasuke?” Sakura called out to him, “What’s wrong?”

When his eyes landed on hers, he narrowed them, silently contemplating his next words to her. The anger in them made Sakura rise to her feet and go over to him. She sat slowly beside him as he stared at her with an unhappiness that had Sakura’s stomach dropping. “What happened?” Sakura asked again, reaching for his fingers splayed tensely across the bed. He didn’t move them.

“Why did you agree to let Gaara use you as bait to draw out the enemy?” he asked, forcing the words past his tightly set jaw. Sakura had never seen Sasuke upset with her like this and she didn’t know how she was supposed to react. She just returned his angry stare with an even expression, sighing smally as she released his hand.

“It’s the best option we have,” she explained. “I know it’s dangerous, but Gaara thinks—”

“I know what he thinks,” Sasuke interrupted as he stood, pacing over to the window and away from her. “I just spent hours listening to potential plans designed around this mutual decision of yours.”

Sakura swallowed thickly as more of the pieces concerning his frustration came together. “What other alternative is there?” she began, trying to lead him back to the only solution that made the most sense.

“I could go to Tanigakure, myself,” Sasuke suggested. “And intercept them before they made it here. A covert operation with one person wouldn’t involve Konoha and Suna. It would be discreet.”

“You have other business here, Sasuke. Focus on your mission and I’ll worry about this. I don’t want this to distract you—”

“Before,” Sasuke whispered in the dark. “The me before could have done so. But I can’t now. What is the point of my mission to find the Otsutsuki race and eliminate them as a threat when I can’t eradicate a group of ninja set on killing you?”

Sakura’s heart stilled at such words, knowing how difficult it was for Sasuke to admit such a thing to her. Rising, she made her way over to him, tenderly tucking her arms around his sides as she had done many times before, resting her forehead against his back. “I can take care of this, Sasuke. You don’t have to worry.”

There was no scoff or sneer at her words for saying such a ridiculous thing, and instead, Sasuke gripped her fingers at his waist like a lifeline. “I know,” he admitted, turning in her arms to face her.

Sakura’s stomach dropped to her feet when he leaned his forehead against hers in the reflection of the moon. “I don’t doubt your strength,” he whispered. “But if something happened to you, I don’t know who I’d become again.”

“Sasuke,” she breathed, “You don’t have to worry about such things because I’m not going anywhere—not now—not when I can finally do this.”

Carefully, Sakura stood on her tiptoes, closed the distance between their noses, and pecked the scowling Uchiha right on the lips.  

A beautiful thing happened next and Sakura locked the image into her heart to last her a lifetime. Sasuke smiled. Actually smiled—just for a moment as he sighed in relief, and then his eyes lingered on her lips in return. His face grew serious again as he did so.

Daringly, Sakura pulled on his hand, and Sasuke followed her to his bed against the wall. He hesitated as she rose onto the bed with her knees, turning so that she faced his still-standing form, and cupped both of his cheeks with her palms. Sakura gazed into his dark eyes that reflected the moon as if they were their very own black and moonlit skies. She could see the struggle within them, so she didn’t take another step, didn’t make another move until Sasuke decided to do what Sakura knew he wanted to.

As she started to loosen her tender hold on him, Sasuke found the nape of her neck with his hand, just as he had in Gaara’s tunnel of sand, and she gasped at the warmth of his fingers. He crashed his mouth against hers, a kiss that was sweltering with need and desire, one so unlike the tender first kisses between them last night. At first, she was genuinely shocked at the emotions Sasuke was communicating through the kiss, and Sakura couldn’t believe her luck. He was kissing her, kissing her as a lover would and she couldn’t believe it. Sakura responded greedily, fastening her own fingers around the back of Sasuke’s neck. She deepened the kiss, responding to his need with a need of her own. Sakura pulled him down to her as their mouths moved against one another until he had no choice but to straddle her knee.

When Sakura’s fingers found their way under the hem of his shirt, Sasuke sucked in a sharp breath and broke away from her mouth long enough to tear the shirt from his skin. He guided her hand slowly back to his spine, holding her eyes with his. “Touch me,” he instructed.

She did as he asked, running her fingers up along his back slowly. She wasn’t so sure if she had just imagined him bite back a moan as he arched his back in response to her fingernails. Was this really happening? How far was he prepared to go with her? At this pace, they would—

“Touch me, too,” Sakura whispered against Sasuke’s teeth when his mouth found hers again. He, too, found the hem of her shirt and pushed it away from the skin above her right hip. Angling them so that they were on their side facing one another, Sasuke slid his fingers around to her back and sighed her name when he felt the dip in her spine.

“I have—” Sakura began to bring up an important factor to the natural progression of events like this, but Sasuke withdrew his hand from her skin and kissed her slowly one last time before pulling away and sitting up on the bed.

“It’s not going to happen,” he declared to the dark.

Sakura couldn’t help but feel the disappointment that suddenly doused the fire in her veins. “Why not?” she asked dejectedly, sitting back up to face him. She reached out longingly and traced the now-exposed clavicle of his chest.

“Think about it more before you decide,” he said, tenderly pulling her fingers away from his skin.

“I’ve given this plenty of thought,” she admitted too hurriedly, and instantly wished she could recant the words at Sasuke’s sudden smirk as he retrieved his shirt from the floor and slipped it over his head. “I mean,” she tried again, retracting back the meaning behind that sentence. “I want this.”

“Let’s keep you alive over the next few days. I don’t want us distracted by this.”

Distracted? Did he really not know that this almost that had happened between them would distract her every waking thought for the next several days? Her mind would recall every second and the longing for more would intensify the distraction. Sakura pouted silently to herself as she treaded back over to her bed across the room. Sasuke didn’t breathe another word and neither did she, because if they spoke or broke the silence, they might find their way back toward one another in the dark and Sakura had already promised to respect his wishes when he felt uncomfortable. Damn her mouth.

[yourkimjaejin]

Debut Day

The four members of AG just finished their rehearsal before SMTown Tokyo tonight. Excitement was bursting from them at the chance to perform Cowboy again since their tour. It had been an easy couple of months since the turn of the new year. The tables had turned for AG. Usually Moxy, Aurora and Hannah were the ones who busy rushing around to various schedules while Juno stayed home.

Luckily, or unluckily depending on how you look at it, Things had changed. Now Juno was the one rushing around the world on schedules with her second NCT team, NCT Wish. While Hannah, Moxy and Aurora were enjoying a bit of a break, Juno hand been to Thailand and Barcelona filming content for the groups debut and part 1 started today.

Aurora wrapped her arms around Hannah shoulders, making the elder drag her weight up the stage. Moxy's laughter echoed around the empty arena at Hannah's exaggerated movements. She went to make a comment to Juno but she wasn't there. Juno still stood on the extended stage, looking around at the empty seats.

Moxy walked back to the silent singer.

"Is it strange....that I'm not nervous?" The singer asked, still looking out at the stadium.

Moxy shook her head, "I don't think so. You've been here before." The leader gestured to the arena. "You've been at SMTown. You've debuted before. Sometimes not everyone gets rattled. That's just who you are. Don't question it." Moxy rubbed Juno's shoulder. Some idols may find Juno's confidence off-putting but her leader knew that's just who she is.

Juno nodded, "Yeah...Yeah, you're right."

"I'm always right." Moxy attached herself to Juno's arm and shakes a smile out of her. They bowed to the staff then walked back to the top of the stage. "The boys excited?"

"You can tell they're hiding their nerves behind excitement. I keep thinking about what to say; help them relax."

"Just remind them of who they are and why they're here. Thousands of wannabe idol could be in their position. But they aren't. And thats goes for all of us."

The girls stop at the top of the stage when they hear a cacophony of young male voices shout "Ane!!" and "Noona!!" They both couldn't stop laughing as the six new members of NCT ran onto the stage for rehearsal. Wide eyes and dropped jaws followed as they looked out at the stadium that would be filled with fans in a few hours. Moxy hugs Juno then heads to the back. The six boys bow respectfully to their sunbae as she passes.

Riku attaches himself to Juno left side, "Ahhh, theres my stage five clinger. You know I got used to feeling my arm over the past three hours." Riku clicks his tongue.

"You know you love me Ane."

"Debatable." The members laugh at Riku's despair over Juno's rejection. The stage director calls them to attention and Juno leads their introduction as they start their rehearsal.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Alright, NCT Wish! You're on in five minutes." Seven voices shouted acknowledgements to the warning. Several pairs of feet frantically moved around the room. Grabbing jewelry, getting makeup touched up, Hair pins being taken out and final layers of clothing being put on.

Before the newest members of NCT walked out of the door, Juno said, "Yeoreobun!! Gather up." The boys form a tight circle around their eldest. Their eyes met hers and the leader had to force herself not to cry.

"I am so proud of all of you. I'm not gonna give you a peptalk cause you don't need it. There is nothing else we can do to be better than what we already are. You know these steps, you know the lyrics and this is just another stage. Go out there and kill it like I know you can." Juno puts her hand in the middle with each of the boys following suit.

"Set It Up!"

"Shut It Down!"

"HANA DUL SET!"

"LET'S WISH!!" Spirits were high as the group walked out the door. Juno walked behind them like parent watching their children run free. The boys jogged forward, getting into position for their opening entrance.

Juno almost caught up with them when six bodies crowded around her. Wrapping her between their intertwining arms.

"We are so proud of you Juno!" From Taeyong.

"You're finally debuting!!" Jungwoo said with a huge smile.

"You're gonna be amazing out there! i just know it." Winwin ruffled her hair

"And Wish is gonna be amazing. Especially with you and Sion leading." Doyoung smoothed out the mess Winwin made. But Jaehyun yanked Juno into his side, proceeding to mess up her hair again.

"Come on! We all know they're gonna kill it." Juno used all her strength to shove Jaehyun off only to end up in Mark's arms.

"We just wanted to wish you luck before you debuted again. And I personally wanted to welcome you to the club of double debuts." Juno had to shoved her face in Mark's shoulder to hid her tears. It felt good to have her original unit surrounding her, congratulating her on re-debuting.

When she was a trainee, she never considered herself on the same level of her future AG members. Out of the four of them, Juno's dancing style fit with the girls better than the boys. But SM saw something in her and thinking back, she's glad they did.

With the help of her girls and the boss unit members, Juno became better than she ever could alone. She made strides that she wouldn't have made unless pushed to do so.

But she couldn't dwell on those thoughts. She'd end up crying and risk ruining her makeup further.

"We're one minute out! Where's Juno!!" A stage hand called out. Quickly, Mark and Juno separated. Juno took a couple deep breaths as she walked to her place.

In the corner of her eyes, she saw someone as she walked up the stairs. Donghyuck was peeking around the corner. He held two thumbs up then ducked around the corner, hoping not to get caught by one of the managers.

An easy smile grew on her face as she took her place between Sion and Yushi. It was Wish's time to shine

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

A HUGE congrats on the debut NCT WISH!! I didn't pay for SMTOWN Tokyo but I did see clips online and I am so proud of them. I've never felt so much cute aggression towards an idol group before (Especially for Riku!!)

Thanks for reading and hopefully I'll see you for the next one!!! ~ Author Izzy

Taglist: @alixnsuperstxr / @1-800-call-ria / @sophrodite / @sunflower-0180

[ioannemos]

a blouse

These important stories, we rehearse them for years in our head but never tell. These stories are ghosts, bringing people back from the dead. Just for a moment. For a visit. Every story is a ghost. Chuck Palahniuk

day four: miss missing you / grief

rating: g

words: 900

───────────────────────────

“I’m back,” Lucy sings out, kicking the door shut behind her. She expects Lockwood to appear to take the groceries and is mildly put out when he doesn’t. After a moment George emerges from the kitchen in full apron and gloves and her heart sinks. “Oh no. What happened? I was only gone an hour.”

“Mrs. Bishop came by with the survey,” George says gloomily.

Lucy blinks. “And?”

“And I don’t know!” George follows her into the kitchen. “Lockwood’s voice got all… brittle, though I don’t think she noticed. They talked about nothing, he thanked her, she left, and he just stood there staring at the closed door, totally silent.”

Lucy pauses in putting away the groceries. “What did the survey say?”

“Nothing they hadn’t told us. He left the survey on the side table and went upstairs.” George sheds the washing-up gloves to put away the spices she picked up for him. “I haven’t heard a sound since.”

Lucy bites her lip. “Well, maybe he’ll come down for dinner.”

Lockwood doesn’t appear all evening. George makes dinner and then starts cleaning the library when Lucy insists on doing the dishes. She turns on the radio to drown out the silence with limited success.

Once the dishes are done she puts the kettle on and steps out to stare up the stairs again. She goes to stand in the library doorway. “This isn’t… normal, is it?”

George pushes his glasses back up his nose with a forearm. “No, not really.”

“Should we check on him?” George’s eyes widen. “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it,” Lucy says with exasperation.

“Not really, no.”

“What, not even when he’s in there not making a sound, not eating?” George’s lips thin and he shrugs. “Boys,” Lucy mutters, shaking her head. In the kitchen, the kettle whistles. “Well, I’m making tea and I’m going to check on him. You’re welcome to join me,” she says as a parting shot, certain that he won’t.

While the tea brews she toasts bread and pulls one of the cutlets back out of the fridge. George comes in while she’s spreading mayonnaise on the toast. “Suppose he doesn’t want us to come in,” he says. She turns to him in surprise. “Suppose he wants to be left alone,” he adds, a bit pointedly.

“Then he’s welcome to tell us so,” she says, raising her chin. “I forgot the lettuce; hand me a leaf?”

She adds six biscuits along with the mugs and the impromptu sandwich and carries the tray up, George trailing behind her. When she nods for him to knock, he gives her another wide-eyed look and takes the tray instead. She rolls her eyes hard and reaches out to knock. Just before her knuckles make contact, she hesitates. George snorts softly. “Not so easy, is it?” he asks.

“Shut up,” she retorts, and clears her throat. “Lockwood?” No response. Having come this far, Lucy feels the only thing sillier would be to give up now, so instead of knocking she turns the doorknob.

It turns easily and she steps inside before she can second-guess her actions any more. It’s completely dark, which startles her. Every other time she’s had a glance inside, either the curtains were open, a light was on, or sometimes both. “Lockwood?” she says again, anxiously. She’s not sure what she’s afraid of, but… She feels for a lightswitch near the door and flips it on.

Lockwood is laying perpendicular on his bed with his legs off the side, fully clothed and on top of the covers, holding something made of silvery-purple fabric. His face scrunches up and one arm rises to cover his eyes. “Wha…?” he begins, and then yawns.

“Erm,” Lucy says. “You… disappeared.”

“Hmm?” Lockwood sits up by degrees, rubbing his eyes. The fabric slips out off his lap and he lunges for it, crashing to his knees next to the bed and clutching it protectively to his chest. He sits on the edge of the bed, pulls the fabric up to cover his nose and inhales, eyes closed.

None of them move for several seconds. She takes a deep breath and soldiers on. “You ought to eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” he mumbles into the fabric. It’s shimmery like silk and perhaps the size of a shirt.

“Even so.”

He lowers the fabric back onto his lap and feels it between his fingers. “It doesn’t smell like anything,” he says, almost matter-of-fact. “I don’t think it ever did.”

Lucy can’t think of anything to say to that, so she takes the tray back from George. “George made cutlets for dinner and all I did was put it between some toast, so really you ought to thank him.”

Lockwood still hasn’t looked up from the fabric. “Mum wore the same perfume,” he says. His voice isn’t matter-of-fact, she realizes, it’s detached in the same way as when someone’s been terribly hurt and they don’t feel it yet.

“Oh,” George says, voice dropping.

“I’d forgotten,” Lockwood says, sounding even more distant. He smooths the fabric across his knee.

Lucy’s resolve crumbles. “Do you… I could leave the tray?”

Lockwood looks up, his eyes dull, and there’s an awful moment of silence before he says, “Please stay.”

Lucy doesn’t wait; she climbs onto the far side of the bed and sets down the tray. “George, don’t get crumbs on the bed.”

───────────────────────────

@lco-angst-week

this one. this was a genuinely rough one, bc as soon as i saw grief and thought of lockwood i knew where this was going, like seeing a car crash coming

(in case it wasn't clear, mrs. bishop wore the same perfume as his mother and it bowled lockwood over. i've spent so long picking at this one that i'm not sure it's coherent anymore but i'm also forbidding myself to keep picking at it)

in my case it was a sweater, not a blouse, and i sat on my bed just holding it for a long, long time. i don't even know what emotions i was feeling. they were big, and they were tangled, so i just held her sweater to my chest and let them wash over me for a while. it didn't smell like anything, either. i do have a bottle of her perfume, tho, and i get a glimpse of her dressing up for a party every time i smell it

also i hate the title of this one but writing it wore me out so stupid title or no up it goes ¯\_(┬◡┬)_/¯

[wutheringmights]

Has anyone asked for the writer's commentary yet for the latest CTB chapter? I love those 😭

Both of these asks came in today, so I guess we'll have to do director's commentary now.

As I mentioned in the author's notes, the entire flashback was written the day of posting. If I was in a better state, I would have taken the time to sit on the draft before going in to expand on some of the scenes, but I was at the end of my rope with the chapter and wanted the whole thing over with

All that to say that I don't really remember writing the flashback. My brain was pretty hazy

When I wrote that Mask's hair was cut, I felt like it was important but I really didn't know why. It wasn't until like a day later that I realized that Link was so bugged by the child's hair being cut because it was a loss of autonomy-- not for the child, but for Link. In Link's mind, he has final say on what the child does with his body, not anyone else

I would like to thank me for rehearsing the dialogue for Link and the engineer's argument in my car during my commute. If I didn't have that shit memorized, there would be no way that I would have been able to write that in, like, an hour

Onto the present day, which was 30k of the 35k chapter

I originally wrote Legend's story from his point of view before remembering my rule about limiting the POV to Warriors/Link exclusively; I might post that draft some day

In my draft, I was going to have everyone insist that Sky, Warriors, and Linkle couldn't come along to the rescue due to their injuries/being too young. About five minutes after they all left, Sky and Linkle were immediately going to start gearing up, with Sky turning to Warriors like "Well? You're coming or not?" This idea was cut as a space-saving measure

I felt like there are a lot of characters I wanted to put a spotlight on before the action got heavy, including Sky, Four, Lana, and Proxi. But I only had enough space for one. I ended up giving that space to Sky since he had the more pressing trauma, while also splicing in some Proxi for good measure.

Lincoln's departure desperately needed a rewrite. I had a note in bold at the bottom of the WIP constantly reminding me to go back to it, but I ran out of fucks. I apologize to any and all Lincoln stans out there

Another space-saving method was summarizing how they stole the horses and uniforms. I could have written more, but again. Space.

I desperately wanted part of Warriors's infiltration plan to involve Hyrule entering the camp on his own to befriend a bunch of soldiers, but it didn't make logical sense

If Sky, Linkle, and Warriors had gone off on their own, there would have been a scene where they snuck through the medical tent and saw the gas burn victims there

Originally, Twilight was going to be with the troops heading out but I moved him to be with Midna to save space

Impa and the generals were also going to be physically there and active characters in the tent scene, but their presence would have made the scene 10 times longer, so I had to find a way to put them in a box

(Are you noticing a trend here?)

I used to exclusively write ensemble stories with 20 different POV characters because I felt like I couldn't let characters do significant things off screen without it feeling shoehorned in. CTB has been a good exercise for me in regards to forcing me to embrace a single perspective. But, boy did everything with Midna and Twilight made me wish this was an ensemble story

The "battlefield run" plot point where Warriors and co need to run across an active battlefield to rescue someone was directly inspired by the movie 1917

When I was reading "The Dragon Republic" by RF Kuang, I fell in love with this description of a river filled with dead bodies that I knew I wanted to include somewhere in CTB, though I was worried it was too dark

The decapitated dead in the river is meant to be Uri, Warriors's friend from training who died in the first battle

I always meant for Uri to be this shrouded figure in Warriors's past where the reader can tell how deeply affected Warriors was by his death by how little he had to say about it; it took until this chapter for me to realize what exactly Warriors was trying to not remember

The fingering joke made it to the final cut exclusively because I did not have any energy to think of a new bit

My justification for Faovarians having white freckles is that Hylians are just humans with pointed ears, which highly suggests to me that there are other human cultural groups in the LOZ universe with their own fantastical physical features

The muskets were originally going to be muzzle loading muskets circa 1770s, but I upgraded them solely because I did not want to have to describe the process of reloading one

If I had stuck to the muzzle-loading muskets, Warriors's inference that Faovarians just had gunpowder lying around would be more plausible, as the gunpowder is not in the musket balls; with the change, his plan for Arlo is a bit more far-fetched

The ganons got named exclusively because I got sick of having to refer to them as "the giant machines" or other vague terms

This didn't come up in story, but the reason why there's so many dead animals around is because they were killed by poisonous gas

The Faovarians have this giant magical wall because I needed to make it really hard to infiltrate Faovarian territory, and you will find out eventually why I needed to do that

While writing this chapter, I realized that I could have cut out Whitestone and given his speech about lambs and stuff to Impa, which would help to give her more pull in the narrative

That being said, I really hoped that by name dropping Whitestone, I could quickly paint a picture of what the past few weeks had been like for Wind

Deepest apologies to Wind, but it had to be done rip

So I always knew that Twilight was going to be captured, which makes his re-entering only to get carried off again REALLY funny

There is a very specific plan I have for the trio of characters I refer to in my notes as the House of Nephus, though you aren't going to realize what it is until Nephus himself finally comes into the story

Speaking of which, I was going to provide his little brother's name but it never came up (mostly because the only one who knew it was Icarius, who can't talk)

So as a reward for reading this far into my commentary, I will tell you that the little brother's name is Philo

I would like to take a moment to thank Lincoln for being so killable that no one noticed that I explicitly outlined last chapter everything needed to kill Proxi

Which is also the reason why I was so pressed about making the audience care about her last chapter

As someone who knows her full history with Warriors, her death is significant to me, but when I planned the story, it didn't occur to me that the flashback would not have gotten to Proxi by the time she dies in the present

To help make up for the audience not caring about her as deeply as I do, I tried to linger as long as possible in Warriors's misery so that the reader can at least feel her death through him

I did have to cut an idea I was in love with: while waiting for help, a group of soldiers come upon Warriors, and when they find out that someone is stuck under the rubble, they ignore orders to dig Wind out because they're good people

I cut it because I needed Warriors to feel no amount of hope as he crashed into rock bottom

This is rock bottom because his fears of his friends going through terrible things because of him had finally come true. From the start, he had promised to put them over himself. Losing his arm put that to the test, and he mostly passed. But in the end, nothing he did actually protected Twilight or Wind

This chapter contains a reference to something that is also a final bit of foreshadowing for the scene I wrote this whole story for. I wonder if anyone can find it and if they know what it means...

[heroes-of-olympus-next-gen]

Rehearsal dinner

Hey everyone! I started rewriting my series and put in a lot of extra scene and I thought you might enjoy them! The ask box is always open xxx

Annabeth planted her face on the mattress in the bridal suite the moment she stepped inside. As soon as they reached the hotel they were swarmed by the wedding planner, the chef, the flower consultant, the DJ and various other people.

“Come on, Annabeth. We have to get going.” Piper said as she dropped on the floor her bags. “Although the bed looks very comfortable.”

“It is.” She replied still hugging the pillows.

“I guess we have time for a quick nap.” Piper lied next to her best friend.

“Nope, not a chance.” Rachel entered the room and dragged Annabeth who groaned in response. “We have a shit ton to do before the day is over. One of which is the rehearsal for tomorrow. So I suggest you take your pretty heals out of the box and go downstairs were the rest are waiting for you.” Piper threw her a dirty look. “Annabeth put me in charge for not letting her procrastinating and leaving everything for the last minute.”

“You’re right. And thank you so much for being here for me.” Annabeth said as she took her wedding heels out of the suitcase.

“Don’t even mention it. You and Percy are like my closest friends at the moment. I would it again.” Rachel said and dragged Piper out of the bed. “Come on, McLean. We need you as well.”

“Fine, let’s do it.”

The three of them made their way to the garden where the wedding would be held. It overlooked the sea which was one of the main reasons why they chose to do it there. “Annabeth, it’s good to see you.” Sally said and pulled her in a tight embrace.

“When did you get here? I told Percy to call me.” Annabeth replied.

“Just now. Is everything under control? Anything you need help with?”

“No, you don’t have to worry about anything. Just relax and have fun.” She encouraged her soon to be mother-in-law.

“Finally! Annabeth we’re waiting for you!” Connor shouted from the other side of the garden where Connor, Malcolm, Travis, Katie, Hazel, Nico and Frank were sitting along with some of hers and Percy’s friends from college.

“We’ll catch up later.” Sally said and let her be.

As she walked closer to her friends, she noticed Percy wearing his aviator sunglasses and the first three buttons of his shirt being unbuttoned which made her a bit warm and heated. “Sorry, I kept all of you and thanks for being here.” She said as Hazel gave her a warm smile. She and Percy had actually fought over who was getting Hazel in their wedding party. At the end Percy won as he knew her longer and they spent more time together.

“Don’t mind Connor. He is an impatient moron who has the attention spam of a 2-year-old.” Katie said as she got up to give her a quick hug.

“Rubbish. Annabeth knows I love her, don’t you Annie?” Connor winked which only won him another glare from Katie.

“How about we start our rehearsal?” Rachel suggested.

“Wait, I have to get Stella.” Percy said as he got out of his seat. That gave Annabeth some time to catch up with everyone. She was glad everyone could make it and especially Evelyn and Susannah, her best friends from Berkeley. She was deep in conversation with Malcolm when someone hugged her tightly. “Hi Annabeth.” Estelle said excitedly.

“There is my girl. I missed you so much!” Annabeth said excitedly to her.

“I missed you too!” Estelle exclaimed. “I’m so happy you are getting married!”

“Me too, Stella.” Annabeth said as she put her hand around her. “Come on, we have to practise for tomorrow.”

An hour and four baskets of flowers down the aisle later everyone was having lunch and enjoying the rare occasion of being all together. Percy was sitting next to Annabeth and whilst everyone was in deep conversation he placed his hand on her thigh. “That’s not a good idea.” She whispered which only made Percy smile.

“It’s an excellent idea. We can go upstairs, take a nice shower together and then come back here. Nobody is going to realise we’re even gone.” He argued with a smirk Annabeth wanted so much to put off him.

“I’ll be all flushed afterwards, and I won’t be able to concentrate.” She replied. “And we both know that a shower isn’t going to be enough.” She said in an even more hushed tone. “We’ll have a whole month in Greece to have showers together.”

Percy paused and Annabeth imagined what was going on in that head of his. “I am not making any promises.”

“We’ll see.” Annabeth smiled.

“You’re so lucky about spending your honeymoon in Greece.” Suzanna sighed. “Do you have place for one more?”

“You’re spending the summer in Malaysia, Sue.” Annabeth replied. “And we’ll be occupied the whole month.”

“You better be. Take advantage of the yatchs and the beds you can find.” Evelyn stated. “That’s what I would do.”

“Yet you’re still single.” Susannah said.

“It’s by choice. And I’d rather die than be committed to a person for the rest of my life. No offense, Annabeth.”

“None taken. I don’t think I would be in a relationship if it wasn’t for Percy.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet, love.” Percy said and kissed her.

“My point is you don’t need to be in a relationship to feel fulfilled.” Annabeth added as her fingers intertwined with Percy’s.

“Thank you.” Evelyn said as she motioned to a server to bring her another Margarita.

“Annabeth! Percy!” Frederick said as he reached their seats.

“Hey dad. I’m glad you could make it.” Annabeth hugged her dad.

“The boys and Helen are putting our stuff in the room, and they’ll be right here.” He replied. “Evelyn, Susannah, it’s great to see you again.”

“Right back at you, Dr C.” Evelyn replied. “How is your latest book coming?”

“It’s good. I still have a lot of work left, but I’m fine with the deadlines.” Her father replied.

“When we come back from the honeymoon, I’ll come to help you with the currents and the ships.” Percy said.

Which was a really bad way to put his expertise with the wave and ship movements in different historical battles. When they had moved to New Rome, after Percy spent some time with Annabeth’s father they found out that his knowledge about the sea where deeper than what they imagined. He fixated on the Punic wars and various sea battles that even managed to make Frederick forget about the historical aircrafts. Talking of Frederick, he had helped Percy with his college dissertation on Naval history and he decided to write a new book with the help of his son-in-law.

“You go and have fun. We’ll talk about your help after you come back and make the Olympic team.”

“I am not sure I’ll even make the team.” Percy noted which caused the group to roll their eyes. “I’m being realistic here. I don’t have the same stamina I had when I was 18.”

“Poor grandpa. Do you need a wheelchair at the ripe age of 22.” Evelyn mocked him which earned her a kick from Susannah.

“I appreciate your touch with reality, Percy. Even though the chances of you not making the time are the same with Evelyn not getting wasted tomorrow.” Susannah said. She gathered her things and got up. “It’s already 5:30. I’ll start getting ready. Ev, are you coming?”

“In a bit. I’ll finish my drink first.”

Susannah waved them goodbye and made her way upstairs. Her vacant sit was soon filled with Matthew who threw Frederick the keys. “Hey Matt.” Annabeth said. “Where is Bobby?”

“He found a nice girl by the pool, so you know.” He said like it was a frequent event.

“How is lacrosse going?” Percy asked him. For as long as he had known Matthew, he knew that he loved talking about lacrosse more than life itself. Bobby on the other hand, played ice hockey which was ironic as they lived in San Francisco their entire lives.

“We won our final and I’ll be playing next year in Duke.” He added. “I’ll head to North Carolina earlier to practise with the team.”

“So, it’s final. Duke it is.”

“Oh yes. They have a killer lacrosse programme and a really good science department.” He gushed.

“Not one of my children will follow my footsteps.” Frederick said half-joking.

“Don’t worry, dad. Percy has a history degree.” Matt highlighted, which made Percy smile a bit. “But it isn’t like he is going to teach the other guys on the team about the Punic wars.”

“First of all, Matt, I haven’t made the squad yet.”

Annabeth jumped in before he could continue, “Secondly, it’s an English and History degree.”

“I wasn’t going to say that.” Percy said to his fiancée.

“I said it. Because you don’t brag enough about your degree.” She smiled. She was always his number 1 fan. Whether it was with swimming or with his sudden interest in history and linguistics. That fried his brain, but at the end it was all worth it. He knew that when he would eventually have to stop swimming, that he wanted to become a teacher and help kids just like him.

“And you’re going to make the squad. I’ve seen your stats, Percy. And they are wicked.” Matthew encouraged him.

Rachel came over to them, “I think it’s time to start getting ready. It’s already 7 and the room will be ready at 8.”

With that everyone got up, to go and get ready. “Can you zip me up?” Annabeth asked Percy as she put on her dress for the evening.

“I usually unzip your dresses.” Percy noted as he kissed her shoulder before zipping her dress. “Wow, you look amazing.”

Annabeth found herself blushing over Percy’s comment. “You don’t look bad yourself.” She said. ‘of course he doesn’t look bad!’ her brain noted. In a crisp ironed suit with top button unbuttoned and the cologne that was making it really hard for her to not ditch the dinner and spend the evening locked up in the room with him.

“You need help with anything else?”

“Just take my phone. It’s charging.” Annabeth said as she put on her heels and took a final look at herself. She didn’t care much about her looks until she started hanging out with Susannah and Evelyn who loved fashion and nice clothes. Then, Annabeth got her first high paying job and thought that it wouldn’t be bad to invest in some quality pieces for work. “Let’s go.” She said as Percy took her hand.

The rehearsal dinner ran smoothly, and the food was immaculate. Rachel wasn’t joking about her chef friend. She had to remember to get the recipe to the chocolate cake at some point. After they finished eating they laughed around for a while, and they all said stories from the good old days.

Percy couldn’t help but notice that Annabeth’s stepmother had remained silent the whole evening and barely touched her plate which aggravated Bobby and Matthew that Percy caught arguing quietly with their mother. He just hoped that Helen didn’t have anything planned to wreck Annabeth’s good mood. She was crushed after the whole Thalia situation, and she didn’t need someone else to destroy her happiness. Family or not, Percy would kick her out of the wedding even at the cost of Frederick’s friendship.

Grover who had gone to the buffet, brought Percy another filled plate with food. “Thank you.” He said before he grabbed his fork.

“You were serious about the heightened appetite.” He noted. “How do you keep eating so much and looking even better?” It was true. His appearance had changed dramatically since he was 18 when he first started swimming professionally. He was exercising so much that his body couldn’t compare to what he looked like when he was off fighting monsters. That also meant that he ate twice of what he used to which turned out to be an inside joke of his friend group.

“Grover, are you trying to steal my good looking soon to be husband?” Annabeth asked her friend.

“There still is time, Annie.” Grover said in all seriousness.

“You don’t need to fight over me. My heart has enough space for both of you.” Percy encouraged them. “My best friend and the love of my life.”

“I’m the love of your life?” Grover gasped as he tackled Percy with a hug.

“Whatever makes you sleep at night, Grover.”

“Don’t be mean.” He pouted.

“I am not being mean, and you know that.” She argued.

“Annabeth, we’ll see you tomorrow.” Frederick said as he kissed his daughter on the cheek. Helen didn’t utter a single word to her.

“See you tomorrow.” Annabeth replied as her father and stepmother left.

Bobby motioned to Percy to come to where he and Matthew were standing. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Your mum wanted to talk to me, so I’ll just see you tomorrow at the wedding.” Annabeth said and kissed him.

“I’ll be waiting for you at the end of the aisle.” He smiled.

“I wouldn’t want it to be any other way.”

Percy got to where he realised Bobby and Matt were smoking. “Are you supposed to be smoking?”

“Nope.” Bobby replied. “We need to talk to you.”

“It’s about our parents.” Matthew explained them. “You probably realised that mum isn’t happy to be here.”

“Yes, she made it quite obvious.” Percy said trying to stay calm and not say anything he was going to regret later on. “What’s up?”

“They are getting divorced.” Bobby said. “In the next few months. They haven’t said anything yet, but it’s clear as the ocean.”

“Plus we caught dad talking with the lawyer the other day.”

“But what does it have to do with Annabeth?”

“Annabeth is the reason they are getting divorced.” Matthew announced. “Dad finally realised that the way mum was acting around Annabeth when she was a kid wasn’t fair and that caused a lot of arguments. Plus, she threw a tantrum last night about not wanting to drop everything to come today which you can imagine didn’t go down well with the new and improved Frederick.”

“We wanted to tell you because you deserve to know. Being a member of the family and all. And don’t worry about our mum. She isn’t going to act out or anything. We’ve made it crystal clear to her that she is a tantrum away of us not coming home for Christmas if she keeps up.”

Percy was stunned he wanted to say so many things to the two 18-year-olds next to him, but he didn’t know were to start. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

“It’s fine, Percy. It’s like Annabeth says. Dad’s true love is History. He cares about our mum, but he can’t love her. And he has learned to care more about his kids which is great. Annabeth deserves a chance to heal from all the trauma they caused her. She deserves the father we had growing up.” Bobby added.

“You’re going to be a great psychologist.” Percy said to him.

“I know. Our point is that their relationship is on its last string. When we pack our stuff for college, we are vacating our rooms as next summer there won’t be a house to return to.”

“All you have to do is when Annabeth finds out, to tell her that it isn’t her fault and that it never was.” Matthew stated. “We are their last link, but the more time dad spends with you and Annabeth the more he realises that he should have called off their wedding the moment Annabeth ran away.”

“We don’t want to ruin your mood or anything, but we wanted to tell you as soon as possible. And it’s also our way of saying that we trust you to take care of our sister.” Bobby said half-smiling. “Although we never had our doubts.”

“Thank you guys. I won’t let you down.”

“We’re sure.”

[theskywaslookingback]

nothing. i didn't expect an answer at all. i'll leave you alone now.

(i'll clarify that i only sent the ask about asexuality, in case you thought it was the same anon as the first one. and i sincerely hope your day is good/gets better.)

So, to clarify, you saw a vulnerable, personal post about someone’s life struggling to find themself and then another vulnerable, personal post where that same person tried their best to answer an earnest question about their identity, and then thought you should send that person an ask, while anonymous, about the definition of asexuality because somehow those two previous personal posts didn’t go into enough detail or nuance for you, personally, and you didn’t expect that person to answer?

You tried to explain to a person, who has already stated that their feelings about their identity are themselves complicated and ever changing that their repulsion of sex doesn’t necessarily make them asexual? That one of the words that make them feel like they’re okay, and not broken or damaged, might not be for them? And you didn’t expect ANY response? Nothing? No answer at all?

Then, again, what did you expect to gain by sending the ask at all?

Because it sounds to me like you got uncomfortable by someone clumsily explaining, in a personal post - not a rehearsed interview or academic article - about their lived experience and it didn’t match with your lived experience and you felt the need to correct them over it. Instead of trying to make friends so you could learn more about that person and they, in turn, could learn about you and all the ways that you are different and special, you decided to alienate and deride.

So, in response to your previous ask, yes, I know that a sexuality is defined by a lack of sexual attraction, which I myself experience. And yes, I am aware that their are asexuals who like sex, or hate sex, or are neutral to it. You are never going to understand me or my feelings from a clumsy text post made after four hours of shitty sleep the same way that you would were you a friend that I stayed up late to talk to. I sincerely hope you treat your friends with more grace and understanding than you do a total stranger, and I hope they give you that same respect back.