#if I hit a certain threshold of my shit being together before the week starts I want to take requests if anyone has them

[athenadione]

Prompt #88 with Jayrae, with Raven as the person who got hurt. Pretty please?

Muahaha *cracks knuckles* don’t mind if I do. Thanks for the prompt anon! It fed my angsty soul. (Also, sorry all for the hiatus in updates. Life is... hard).

‘Toxic Vengeance’

Pairing: JayRae Words: 2,296 Rated: M - Warnings for cuss words, graphic scenes of violence, and major angst. 

When the knife slashes her thigh, it instantly feels like it’s on fire. 

With a hiss, she draws back. 

It’s as if someone pressed a red-hot branding iron to her leg, then twisted it deeper into the marred flesh for good measure—but instead of dulling, the burning sensation is growing at an alarming rate, spiraling up her entire leg. 

Another hooded figure dashes from her right, and with a wave of power she forces them back with a glittery black claw. They hit the nearest brick building with a thud. Another jumps from above to replace them, and she throws up a shield with her other hand, halting the strike of their sword in mid-air. More are filling the alley, coming from the shadows. The burning in her leg is now more of an afterthought as her adrenaline spikes.

I need to end this now. “Azarath. Metrion. Zinthos.” 

Her power flares, and strikes through the figure, sending it back, along with the others in one large surge. There’s a series of grunts, followed by the clattering of weapons, before all she can hear is her own harsh breathing and blood from her heartbeat rushing in her ears. 

Amethyst orbs search the alley with skepticism, expecting another cohort to flood the street. Another minute of scouring, then she releases a breath when she’s certain it’s over. 

The attack had happened the second she turned the corner to investigate the stain of dark magic covering the adjacent building. She had been following whispered rumors of a rising national occult for weeks, eventually leading her to Crime Alley of all places.  

A groan escapes one of the men. Her attention shifts to see him lying slumped against the wall, hood fallen. His face is covered in old ancient markings, confirming both the reasons for her suspicion and dread. 

The marks of Scath. It appears her father’s followers are growing in power. Now, she needs to find out why—and who is behind it. They know who I am and purposefully drew me out here. This is more than I anticipated.

Is their leader someone I know? Maybe Blood? 

As the adrenaline begins to flow out of her body, she becomes keenly aware of the burning pain that’s replacing it. When the burning in her thigh flows down to her toes and up the side of her body, she realizes that her heart rate hasn’t slowed and neither has her breathing. 

Glancing down at her leg, she curses at the blood flowing freely from the wound. It’s deep, and is now starting to bubble. A bright red streak grows across her leg—a clear sign of inflammation. 

Poison. It’s not one that she recognizes—nor is it one that her demon-half can expel. 

Not good. 

Once the severity of her situation sets in, so does her panic, and she stumbles when another flare of pain sends her head spinning. She staggers over to the brick wall, laying one arm against her forehead. It’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat. 

It’s too late to call Nightwing or Batman; They wouldn’t be able to make it in time, and she doesn’t know if she has the capacity to transport herself to the cave. 

There’s only a handful of other people she trusts that knows more than just the basics of toxicology. 

Black specks dance along her vision and she tries to blink them back, shaking her head with considerable effort. 

There’s only one other option.

With the last of her failing strength, her eyes blind an iridescent white, and inky black tendrils snake around her, enveloping her into its depths. 

A moment later they release her and she stumbles across the threshold into a musty apartment. It doesn’t help that it’s completely dark, and the pound of her heart now seems louder than before.

Somewhere within the confines someone curses loud.

Her thoughts are becoming more clouded, and it’s getting harder to breathe. There’s a growing fervency to keep walking, and she does, intent to find him. 

A heat sizzles over her skin, heightening at her thigh. 

She whimpers, and her knees buckle—legs no longer able to support her weight. She’s so out of it she doesn’t even brace for the ground. 

He catches her before she hits.

“Jesus Christ, Raven. What happened to you?” His breath tickles her ear, and she shivers—though from his voice or her wound she’s not sure.

“Ambush. Poison.” She gasps through another wave of burning pain that shoots all the way up to her chest. 

Another curse and she’s being lowered against his door as fingers begin to ghost over her body. 

“Where? What kind?” He finds the wound and bright emerald eyes flare as they meet her. They swirl and morph into one before her eyes, and she blinks, swallowing back a sudden wave of nausea. 

“Alley…knife…I don’t know. I’ve never… ” she trails off, barely getting the words out as her shortness of breath increases.

“Fuck. Fuck,” an arm presses her shoulder back when she begins to slump over. “You cannot pass out on me princess. I need you to stay awake.” 

“Sorry,” she says, slurring her words. She’s growing exceedingly dizzy and her vision is blurring faster. She can’t get enough air to breathe. 

Something jars her. “Raven, stay with me.” 

Her heart feels like it’s going to tear and claw its way out of her chest, and for a moment she thinks it is. 

It beats faster, and faster, and faster.

“Rae, open your eyes. Look at me.” 

But then it stops. 

“Raven.” 

And all she knows is darkness. 

.

“Stand by. Preparing to shock.” 

There’s a loud, involuntary gasp, and a charging whine. 

“Shit. I swear to God you better not fucking die on me Rae.” 

.

“Evaluating heart rhythm… no shock advised. Continue CPR.”

The sound of pumping compressions fills the air. Green eyes glow as they glare at her prone figure.

“Breathe Goddammit!”

When he bites his lip, it’s hard enough to draw blood, but at least he managed to blink back the sudden, unbidden tears that had formed at the corners of his eyes.

He tries not to shake his hands when he hears her sternum crack underneath the heel of his palm. 

. 

“What are you doing on this com-line Hood?” The growl in his ear is laced with caution, and he can’t blame him. At least he answered. 

He gets to the point fast. “It’s Raven, she was poisoned. I don’t know what it is, but I think it’s systemic,” he pauses as the voice in his ear curses. “She’s coding Nightwing, get someone to my apartment now.” 

There’s another tense pause as Dick listens to Jason’s sharp exhales coinciding with his compressions. 

“Where?” 

“The one closest to the Alley, on 3rd.”

“Z will come teleport us. AED?” 

Jason stops and sits back on his haunches as the defilibrator analyzes again. The machine’s response only heightens his fear. 

“No shock. Continuing CPR, it’s been a few minutes,” he swallows thick as he checks her carotid pulse again. Nothing. “I’m losing her godammit, hurry the fuck up.” 

“On our way.”

He immediately cuts the transmission to focus on his task.

One, two, three, four, five...

.

He doesn’t know how much longer he’s been counting to thirty, just that he’s done it over and over. 

A cacophony of motion behind him almost interrupts his concentration. Someone places a gloved hand on his shoulder with urgency. 

“She needs to be transported to the Watchtower as soon as possible.” 

Lips press together firmly, then he nods. Allowing Zatanna to intervene, she envelopes the empath in her magic. They leave the AED pads attached. 

In seconds, they’re gone. Then the others turn to follow. 

“I’m going with her.” 

Nightwing stills, eyes flicking to Batman.

The resounding silence is near palpable. Nightwing takes a tentative step forward, breaking it. 

“Little wing… I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” 

Fluorescent eyes shine with stone-cold defiance.

“You can’t stop me.”

Batman grunts—the closest thing he’ll ever get to an affirmation. It’s a sizable achievement, but he doesn’t feel victorious at all. 

She’s still in cardiac arrest, but if anyone can help her it’s Zatanna. 

And if there’s anyone that can overcome something like this it’d be her. 

Come on princess, come back to me. 

.

She codes three more times in the medbay. The crash team hovers as everyone else tirelessly searches for the right antidote. 

He doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

While he watches her Nightwing briefs him on her mission. He listens. It’s a distraction. Then white hot anger licks and gnashes up his chest to his throat with each word until he’s fisting his hands tight to hide the tremors. 

“... I thought it might be Blood but assassins and poison isn’t really his style. Do you think the League could have something to do with this?” Nightwing asks beside him.

His response is slow and level, revealing no hint of the turbulence of emotion that lies underneath, “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” 

Nightwing gives him a pensive stare, but says nothing. 

Jason narrows his eyes. 

Dead. They’re all fucking dead. 

.

They’re able to create one an hour later. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so relieved to see someone breathe. 

He waits until she’s stable before slipping away. The teleporter still recognizes him as Robin, and he’s not sure what to think about that when he steps onto the platform. 

Batman gives him a look that he acknowledges as both a warning and a threat; But why should he care? He lost respect for that man a long time ago, and doesn’t give two shits what he thinks.

Unlike Bruce, he’s not afraid to avenge those he cares about most through whatever means necessary.

.

A piercing cry follows the crack of snapping bone. Another finger, broken. That leaves seven more, and I’ve got all fucking night. 

“I won’t ask again,” comes a growl, “I want answers.”

The man’s panting is interrupted by a swift kick to the gut. He bends over with a groan, before he glares up at the Red Hood through one eye. The other is swollen shut. 

“Why would I tell you? You’re just going to kill me anyway.” 

Hood hums, cocking his gun. “True, but it’ll hurt wayyy less if you do.” 

The man spits at his boots, a mixture of saliva and blood. “Good luck. I won’t talk.” 

A malicious grin grows from underneath Hood’s mask. 

“Unfortunately for you, I don’t need it.” 

.

The hallway is empty, save for him and Nightwing.

Really it’s just a perfect place for a one-on-one scolding—and his brother clearly decides to take advantage of it.

“You shouldn’t have done that. He will retaliate. This is Ra’s we’re talking about.” 

Jason’s jaw clenches tight. 

“Who knows how many supporters he’s managed to convince that Trigon can fix all of their worldly problems? He could call on all of them at any given moment.” 

He bares his teeth. 

“You’ve made a mess, Hood. It’s going to take months to clean up what you did.” 

He can’t stand it anymore. “Are you shitting me? I did you all a fucking favor,” he points a finger in Richard’s chest. “I found out more information in an hour investigating my way than you all did in weeks. If you’re not happy with my methods then do a better goddamned job covering your teammates.” He nearly chokes on that last word, attention drifting to the unmoving woman in the room across from them. 

Dick’s eyes follow and widen, then narrow just as fast, and he crosses his arms. 

“You love her.” 

He should have known Richard would figure it out. Why even try to fucking deny it anymore?

“Yeah,” he winces when his voice comes out raw. “I do.” 

Dick raises a brow, unapologetic. “She’s not going to like what you did either.”

Jason doesn’t have the decency to look ashamed. 

“I know.”

He wonders if she would have done the same.

.

“The antidote stopped any further damage, but she remains comatose. We’ve deduced that her body’s gone into a healing trance to mend herself internally. There’s nothing else we can do but wait and continue to monitor.” 

He stares at her porcelain face, no longer resisting the urge to tuck a stray lock of indigo behind her ear. Even at rest her brows are furrowed—like she knows what’s coming.

He waits until he can no longer hear Zatanna’s echoing steps to draw closer to her, breathing in her familiar scent of incense and old books. It’s a welcome change from the sterile smell of antiseptic. 

“You’re really taking your time huh, sunshine? How rude of you, leaving me with these assholes,” he fingers another strand of hair before releasing it with a sigh. 

“You scared the shit out of me. Don’t do that again.” He gives her a mock glare, half-expecting her to glower back. When she doesn’t he swallows, and takes another breath. 

“There’s one more thing I need to do… and I know you’re going to hate it, but I’m going to do it anyway.” He imagines pools of lavender, ablaze with fire, and a mouth already poised to argue with a vehemence that makes him smile in the present. 

“I won’t be able to come back here after I finish, and I’m sorry I won’t be there when you wake up,” he takes her hand and squeezes. “But I’m not sorry for what I’m about to do.” 

The incessant beeping of the machines she’s hooked up to is his only response. 

He lowers his face, and brushes his lips against the crown of her head. 

“I love you.” 

Walking away from her is hard, and he almost turns back.

But he doesn’t.

[shintorikhazumi]

I Have Two Sisters?! Chapter 3: Three Sisters, Many Scars, and A Day Out

A/N: Warning! Long? Longer than usual? Chapter? I already split it into 2, mind you. Wasn’t able to hold back. Haha. Sorry bout that. Sorry if this took too long as well. Some of you may have seen my crazy activity in LWA recently. I also have college starting up again so… really, many apologies.

I like to think Claudine is very sweet and gentle with Diana, but very cheeky with Weiss. And Weiss is soft and awkward with Diana, and is almost always fondly annoyed with Claudine. And Diana just loves them both because her younger sisters are so pretty and nice to her and they make her breakfast, and they aren’t anything like the cold, abusive people her old family was like.

I don’t drink coffee so I had to google, “coffee maker parts” for this chapter, though I doubt I used that knowledge lmao.

Their house kind of has a kitchen connected to the living room. Kind of like… the Starlight dorm’s? Wait I don’t remember.

This also got  delayed coz my dog died a while ago during the time I wrote this, and I felt like shit. So. Yep. But it’s alright now!

Also, I know I said love interests maybe at chapter 3, but this was getting too long so I had to move it to the next chapter which is already half done and will be up shortly after this one! Maybe by tomorrow or within next week, hopefully, because a storm is coming to our area. Might have no power. But for sure the three silly (in their own way) brunettes will be there. Definitely!

NOT BETA’D AS ALWAYS! :> I’m… I’m shy about asking for betas.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

School.

Right. That was a thing.

And it was going to start in about two to barely three weeks from now. It was enrollment season for many, and that did not exclude the university Claudine and Weiss were to attend soon. They had been discussing this in the kitchen as they prepared breakfast, Diana still deep in slumber. The girl seemed to sleep in often these days, but well… that was mostly the fault of the two younger sisters.

During one of their chats, they had learned that Diana had always been overworked as a child (just like a certain someone Claudine knew), and had rarely had the chance to rest. They took this opportunity of freedom to give her just that. Even if that freedom basically spelled out how little their father cared about them. So long as they were still alive, he’d have many cases lay off his back. Well, they didn’t care for him either, so it was more advantageous for them to have little to worry about with many things provided for them without strings attached. Being able to do what they wanted was a perk they were willing to make the most out of.

Still, it was nearing school time and they had realized that they were yet to hear of Diana’s plans in terms of studying. Weiss and Claudine had already been enrolled by their father in the aforementioned university which specialized in the arts; the man had done his research on Claudine, it seemed. But as for Diana, the pair had no clue of her status in terms of going to school again, nor could they recall her mentioning any course she was interested in- other than their limited knowledge of her relationship with medicine from articles they’d seen, and stories they’d heard from the girl herself. But was that still an option at this point? What did Diana want to do; she hadn’t mentioned any plans to continue pursuing it, had she?

Huh. That was odd. Considering all the talking they had done these past few days, attempts at getting to know each other better, it seems they had yet to know enough about their housemates.

As if summoned by their silent inquiries, Diana appeared on the threshold to the connected living room and kitchen, rubbing drowsiness away from her tired-looking eyes. On an odd sense of instinct, Claudine walked over to the sleep-addled woman still stuck by the doorway, blinking in confusion, as if wondering about where she was, what she was doing, and why there were two ladies cooking what looked to be breakfast for her.

“That’s because we are cooking breakfast for you. And for us too.” Claudine giggled softly at Diana speaking her thoughts out loud; taking the latter’s hand, she patted a few difficult strands of curly hair down with the other, and began righting Diana’s appearance- her shirt and cardigan slipping off her shoulder while her slippers were on the wrong feet- and the former heiress quite liked that, being pampered. She never really was despite having so many maids in her previous home. She also liked this person who was guiding her to take a seat at this nice wooden table, and this equally nice person had given her a cup of some very nice coffee. “I hope this will wake you up some. You truly are an odd child.”

Diana nodded her thanks, taking a sip from the mug that had her name on it (she really liked that) and a regal picture of a unicorn because Diana Cavendish was not that childish. It was a little sweet, and she liked that too. Very unlike all the bitterness she’d forced down her throat as she toiled nights away for the sake of her family. This was a nice change.

But who were these ladies?

“You know, you’ve asked us the same question almost every morning when you wake up.” Weiss sighed fondly, already accustomed to Diana’s odd habit of speaking her mind, as well as being so lost to the world in the mornings. The first time it had happened, Claudine and Weiss had thought that Diana was talking to them. Apparently, that was not the case. “At this point, we’ll have lived together for twenty or so years and you’d probably still ask.” The silver-haired girl made her way to the table, placing down some pancakes as Claudine followed suit with some eggs and bacon.

“Maybe there’s nothing quite memorable about you, then.” The golden-blonde teased, biting back a hiss as Weiss smacked her shoulder. “Brutal…”

“You’re brutal.” Weiss flipped her hair over her shoulder, before taking one of Diana and Claudine’s hands in each of her own. “The other day-”

“That was one time! And that man was committing theft. Were we supposed to let him run away?” Claudine defended, slightly offended.

“Well, I didn’t expect you to be capable of smashing through concrete-“ Weiss was cut off by the soft, sleepy voice that was Diana, along with a grumbling stomach from the now-blushing girl.

“G-grace…” She reminded, and the two halted their bickering, smiling at Diana while rolling their eyes at one another playfully.

After saying grace for their meal, they dug in, the younger sisters secretly enjoying the many emotions that passed through Diana’s face every meal. It reminded them of when they had gotten burgers for the first time. Weiss admitted she was the same before Winter had snuck in some of the world’s greatest (and unhealthiest) fast-food delicacies, but did she really look like this at the time? Diana never having tasted cheap bacon was preposterous!

But they reminded themselves not to go overboard with junk food and cheap meats. They had health to consider after all, as pleasant as it was to spoil their older sister.

The meal went on as it always did in this household, a few chats here and there, some random inquiries, Diana booting up her awareness as the sleepiness slowly faded away, remembering that she now had two siblings to live her life with each day until who knows when. A wonderful affair as always.

Finishing her breakfast first, Diana stood up to take her plate to the sink for washing. Still feeling slightly out of it, she spotted the coffee maker still half-full with coffee and thought it would probably do her some good to have another cup.

Placing her dishes in the sink, she reached over to grab the carafe, overhearing her sisters’ chatter and turning around to watch them as she poured the liquid into her mug, she felt familiar tremors in her right hand, a warning siren going off in her head as the pain that immediately shot through it caused her to hiss and drop both her mug and the glass jug containing relatively hot coffee, both items crashing into pieces against the kitchen isle floor. Such a loud racket alerted her siblings who rushed to her side in a split second.

“DIANA?!”

“Are you okay? What happened?”

Diana felt her whole body shake along with her hands, but mostly out of fear than anything else. She’d messed up again. She’d broken something that wasn’t hers, she’d made a mess on the floor, and she’d ruined the adorable pony slippers Claudine had been nice enough to secretly get her after she stared at them for nearly twenty minutes on a department store shelf. They were probably mad. Claudine and Weiss. They would no longer be kind to her after her mistake. And after a mistake… a punishment. That’s what was next. Always. Diana knew this in her very soul.

“S-s-sorry…” Stuttering out an apology, she bent down to pick up the broken shards, ready to clean up before she was beaten; maybe if she fixed her own messes and prostrate before them, she’d receive their mercy-

“DON’T TOUCH IT, YOU IDIOT!” She saw the hand come quick, her eyes bracing themselves shut, waiting for the hit to come…

…but it never did. Weiss held her hand up carefully, pulling her out of her slightly crouched position she had subconsciously gotten into.

“Claudine, could you like, take her to the sofa before she gets hurt even more? I’ll do the clearing.”

“Can a princess do something like that?” The youngest still teased, but worry was interlaced into her tone. Weiss scoffed at that.

“If you have time to entertain me with your jokes, make sure Diana is fine instead.” Weiss playfully kicked Claudine’s butt, getting her to move along, pushing Diana in front of her with careful guidance.

Once the trembling girl had been situated on their couch, Claudine began checking for any visible injuries on her elder sister’s hands and feet, sighing in relief when she had found none. “Are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere? Burns? Cuts?” She asked for good measure. Seeing Diana shake her head no, Claudine gave a sigh of relief, turning around to tell Weiss that all was well, and that she’d be going to draw a bath for Diana and get her a change of clothes and wash the soiled garments and slippers.

Before she could leave, a hand caught the edge of her shirt, still quivering lightly. Her heart clenched at the quiet, broken voice, and equally broken question. “You’re not going to hurt me?”

It looked like Weiss had heard the question too considering the sounds of running tap water from the kitchen suddenly stopped.

A frown came over the actress’ features, and that seemed to have scared Diana even more. Claudine immediately noticed, switching to a softer but still worried question as she crouched down in front of the sad girl, hands rubbing gently over her knees before taking shaky hands in hers.

“Why would we?” She asked in a whisper. Weiss may not have been able to hear them, but she continued to watch the exchange, leaning back against the sink, arms crossed, brows furrowed. If anything were to happen or she was needed, she’d rush right over. For now, she’d let her younger sibling deal with it as she seemed to be better at these things.

“Because… I made a mistake… I broke things… and the slippers…” Tears welled up in Diana’s eyes, and two hearts clenched in painful sympathy.

“No, no, no. Sweetheart. That was an accident, that wasn’t your fault.” Claudine frantically wiped away the running tears, signaling to Weiss for some tissues. “Okay? Okay? You can keep crying if it makes you feel better, but we’d rather you calm down and take a bath now so that you can relax and not have to think about any bad things, okay?”

The younger girls did not know what the hell Diana’s family had put her through, but they’d wreak havoc and bring that hell right back to them if they had to. This was outright abuse! For such a lovely lady like Diana to be scarred this deeply, both physically and psychologically, it was just so wrong in many ways.

Keeping their fury reigned in, they gently coaxed Diana into taking the much-needed bath, closing the door with a reminder to call for either one of them should anything come up. With the assurance that Diana could take care of herself for a few minutes, they made their way back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up.

“I swear, I’ll be put in prison for murder one of these days.” Weiss muttered, squeezing the sponge a bit too tightly, froth covering her hand.

“If you’re going to kill someone for Diana’s sake, at least don’t get caught.” Claudine shot back, though the nails digging into her palm spoke a lot about how much she agreed with Weiss’ sentiments.

With everything in place, and the accident laid to rest, the pair plopped on to the couch, sighing out their internal tension.

“I wonder… about what else happened with Diana… Now that I think about it, we never really got to know much about her.” Weiss mused, referring to the incident many nights ago, on their first day together, when Diana had that nightmare. “Cavendish…” Weiss recalled to the time when they had checked the woman’s identification after she’d fainted at their door. Really. All her first memories with Diana weren’t the greatest. Though she could probably say that it was the same for all of them towards one another.

“I did some research on that.” Claudine shared, pulling out her phone and showing it to the silver-haired woman. “Cavendish Medical. Diana did say that her family was of the elite type.” A short groan escaped before the woman continued. “But one of the largest medical chains internationally at that, somehow I can now see why Diana ended up like that. I also somehow get why her face isn’t so well-known despite this fact.”

Weiss moaned out her frustrated pain as well, understanding where this was getting at. “It’s that shitty old man, isn’t it? Because she’s an illegitimate child and all that jazz?” Slapping her knee, she stood up in irritation. “Couldn’t they have just, like, adopted her or something then? And she isn’t completely Unrelated to them. What the hell.”

“I can see that the two of you have certainly been through that. ‘Heiress’ stuff and all.” Claudine made a random circular motion in the air. “Schnee Digital Corporation.”

“Can we not talk about this?”

“Sure.”

“…”

“How rare of you not to continue your taunts.”

“I know how stressed one can get in the presence of an infuriating woman.”

Weiss laughed at that, not really getting it, but she felt like she would in the near future. It never hurt to ask anyway, though. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I know how to shut up when I have to.” Claudine laughed along, shaking her thoughts clear of a certain regular intruder in her mind.

As the two slumped against their couch in comfortable silence, they heard the muffled sound of a voice from behind a door interrupting their hush. “I… I think my hair got s-stuck.” And that was enough reason for them to get up and walk over to the bathroom, only to see Diana struggling with the shower head, hair tangled about it while she sat in the tub. How that happened, they had no clue.

“Just what are you up to?” Weiss muttered under her breath, moving towards Diana anyway, gently detaching light-green curls from metal.

“I’m sorry…”

With an affectionate sigh, Claudine sat herself on a stool by the tub, taking the showerhead from Weiss. “Come on, let us help you finish. We don’t want any more mishaps.”

“I- I can… bathe myself.”

“We know you can. But we want to help.”

“B-but!” And they felt the girl in their hands tense, curling into herself just as she did many times before, as if to hide herself. And as their sight registered why, with clarity, their hearts bled.

They hadn’t noticed it as clearly before, but now there was nothing to cover the many scars that littered over the surface of ivory skin. There were a few bruises that were beginning to heal, and they couldn’t help but wonder if those were inflicted right before Diana escaped to the peace they now lived in. With clenched teeth, Weiss grabbed a bottle of conditioner, channeling her anger to her fingers as she squeezed the bottles contents into her hand and tenderly ran her fingers through curled locks.

Diana’s hair smelled of the scent of the shampoo they bought from a local mart, but her hair, as nice as it was, didn’t have that certain slippery-smooth feel. So Weiss believed this was the next step the girl was about to do.

Claudine reached for the shower setting knob, spraying her hand with water as she adjusted the temperature to the perfect degree of comfort before rinsing the soap off her older sister’s back. She grimaced at the sight of more scars. They were a vast variety. Long, short, wide, thin… it made her sick to know that people truly could lack the heart to be able to inflict so much pain on an individual.

They worked in careful silence, the younger sisters working their hands gently and efficiently. Diana would occasionally jolt, wince, or whimper, and the pair would have to force their frowns away as to not cause the eldest further anxiety.

As the last drop of water fell into the tub, they stood Diana up and helped her dry off, covering her body with a bathrobe as they moved to the girl’s bedroom to get her hair dried completely, and get her changed into comfortable wear.

Diana was grateful for their help. Really she was, but as she changed, she could feel the two worried gazes scanning nearly every patch of skin visible to their eyes as she slowly covered it up with her attire for the day. It unnerved her, it felt like she was back to being strictly monitored.

They must have realized her discomfort as they eased off, Weiss picking a brush up by the vanity, and Claudine sitting her down in front of it. “How about we fix you up? We have plans to go out for today, so maybe you could join us?” The latter proposed as both grinned, Weiss looking up hairstyles that would suit Diana’s choice of clothing for today.

“I- um... okay.” At first hesitant, but eventually relenting, the white-haired heiress got to work, trying her best to mimic the guide on her phone.

It was a silent affair, almost torturous for the eldest as she dared not look into the mirror lest she meet Claudine’s eyes, ever observant and watching over her. Soon enough, however, the ticking of the clock and the feel of the brush smoothing over her waves soothed Diana little-by-little, her breathing slowing as if she were being lulled to sleep.

And then that silence broke.

“Diana… “ It was soft, nearly a whisper, but not quite that. It was a shy call, something rare from the ever-confident Claudine that Diana had come to know. Then again, this was also the incredibly tender blonde she’s lived with the past few days. In that sense, she was very familiar.

“Y-yes?”

Kneeling down next to her vanity’s stool, Diana held a hand, still looking at Diana through the mirror. There was a secret twitch of nervousness on her hand, then a barely audible deep breath, as if the youngest was preparing her heart for a deep confession. Diana felt herself tense. “Diana... Could you tell us about your family? About you?” A shaky breath. “...a-about... your scars.”

She must’ve reacted in a worrisome way, as there was an immediate follow-up to that.

“Oh! You don’t have to force yourself if you don’t want to! If it hurts to talk about it then we can drop this.” Claudine frantically spat out, the touch of her skin feeling a bit warmer. “You don’t have to do it against your will. We were just worried and... those kinds of.. marks are definitely not normal- oh but we’d understand if they are too traumatizing that you’d rather not even recall them, much less speak of them-” She rambled on.

They were kind. So kind. Weiss hadn’t said anything yet, but Diana just knew she was the same. It was warm. Maybe she could trust them. If it were them... surely...

“Diana?”

Shaking her head to ease their anxieties, she flipped her hand over, palm meeting Claudine’s as she clasped her hand tighter than she planned.

“It’s... I... I want to. I want to tell you... because maybe... maybe you can... assist me.”

Two heads nodded, indicating that they were all ears. Feeling their sincerity, a smile grew on Diana’s face. With a deep intake of air, she began her story.

She had been borne healthy and full of potential, an intelligent baby, it seemed. However, potential or talent did not matter. Not to a family as traditional and tight-laced as the renown Cavendish House. A pregnancy out of wedlock was shame to the family, regardless of who the opposite party was, how rich, or how powerfully influential they were.

Why would such large figures care about money and frivolous social stances when they had their own more-than-fair share? Not to mention, Jacques Schnee was infamous despite all accolades. He was never a pleasing prospect to their great family.

And then one day, he pulled away, severing all ties to Diana and her mother. This had complicated their relationship to the main family even more, and hence they were sent to the branch house in Japan, living the rest of their days there. Until now.

“Do you... know how your parents met?” Weiss asked. Diana shook her head, no. She had never had the chance to really ask her mother as she had died when she was quite young, young enough to not have sense of the world yet; too young to comprehend her unfavorable situation.

Claudine couldn’t imagine how Diana felt. Though on the brink of losing her, she still had her mother, and had had the pleasure of being raised by the wonderful woman that she was; nurtured into what she was today. But Diana... Oh, Diana.

“After my mother passed, my aunt and cousins moved into the same house. My aunt claimed that she had been sent by the main family to... ‘rear’ me into the Cavendish I was expected to become.” A flash of fear passed blue irises, the speaker’s breath hastening noticeably. “Then the... scars. Their story. She...”

Unable to handle it any longer, Claudine lunged forward, wrapping the trembling girl in her arms, shushing her and soothing her, telling her it was enough. That she could stop if it hurt too much. Still, Diana wanted to carry on. She had finally found her voice to speak. She did not want to lose this chance. She wanted these people, ones she’d known less than her own similar-named kin, to understand. Because she knew that they would. That they would try. She wanted to try as well.

“When I turned fourteen, I had a grown slightly aware of my situation. I overheard maids gossip that my aunt, she had loathed my mother for years as the latter was more favored as the next matriarchal head. When the whole fiasco happened, she jumped at the chance to attain her most desired wish. Unfortunately for her, she still was not deemed good enough. And I... I was.”

A pause.

“...She took it all out on me. She defended that it was simply discipline. She claimed that she was refining me through the harshest challenges so I would be prepared for how the world truly worked. But all of that was clearly masked-”

“Abuse.” The pair responded, hearts heavy.

“Yes. But I was so deep in submission and mindless obedience that I could do nothing.” Then her eyes went steely cold. “One night, she had gotten herself intoxicated. She had apparently gone back to the main manor to ask for their reconsideration, but was vehemently rejected. I had taken an important mock exam that day, but had one single mistake... She said it wasn’t good enough. She went mad. She said... she’d teach me that perfection-it was the only way I’d ever attain what I wanted the most.”

Diana frowned.

“I now know that she actually meant, what she wanted the most. I’d rather have no part in it. But it was too late.” Squeezing her eyes shut, Diana saw the vivid flames of the fireplace, the dark room; she could smell the awful stench of cheap wine and burning papers. Worst of all, she could almost feel it again. “The metal whip she would constantly beat me with... on that night, she had heated it in the coals... she was deeply lost. Dreadfully so. She took my hand and said...

‘I hope this mark haunts you ‘til the day you die. That you’ll never be what you were destined to be.’”

Diana’s eyes fluttered open, cold as they were when they closed, face hardened and emotionless. She was now numb. There was no longer any pain to hold her back from divulging her deep darkness within.

“Father...” The word was so distasteful, they all cringed deep down. So unfamiliar and... wrong. “He knew about my... condition.” Two pairs of eyes saw that scarred hand go knuckles-white with their grip. “He said so in the letter, and he told me that... there wasn’t much use in re-enrolling me in a medical school  if my own family threw me away after finding out.”

“Finding out?”

“As you saw earlier, my hands have the tendency to suddenly shake, and my right...” Diana stared into her open palm in depression, clenching it into a fist frustratedly. “-the doctors said that my aunt had destroyed nerves needed for the finer motor functions of my hand. The tremors are no good. My family wanted me to become a surgeon for whatever field. I... can’t do that.” She smiled through a grimace.

“Diana...”

“So he told me to do whatever I wanted. The money was... there and all.”

Weiss grit her teeth, fury stirring up within her at the man’s utter lack of delicacy and consideration. It was cruel, how he threw Diana’s pains right at her face, thinking it could be solved with money and she’d feel chipper about it right away. He was always like that.

It wasn’t because their father ever cared about Diana’s background or family affairs that he gave her the freedom of choice; so probably by hearing rumors about Diana and her hand, he couldn’t be bothered to even help her out, leaving her to decide in her lost, unknowing state. How could everyone leave her to choose for herself after controlling her every action, thought, and future? And all of a sudden, as she became useless to them, drop her like a rag doll to do what she wanted. She no longer even knew what she wanted, much less know how to desire something, most likely!

“That’s it.” Weiss bit. “That’s enough, Diana.” She placed the brush down with a light thud. The sound must have scared the poor girl as she apologized profusely right away.

“S-sorry! You must not have liked my story; it must have been burdensome to hear something as depressing as that. I won’t speak a word of it ever again!”

“Diana.” Claudine called, cradling scarred hands in her own. “I don’t believe Weiss meant that in any mean way towards you. She just can’t bear to hear how hurt you are anymore, not right now. But we promise, we will continue to listen to you if you want to open up.” She ran her thumbs gently over fading lines, studying them intensely, before looking up to meet Diana’s eyes. “But right now, we think you need a break. Some fresh air.”

Diana nodded, finally noticing the sweat trickling down her brow, how her breathing was a little labored, and how flushed she felt.

“You’re shaking. Diana.” Claudine said sadly, reaching up to brush stray strands of hair away from Diana’s forehead. “Let’s have a change of pace.” Claudine smiled. “Weiss?”

They heard an audible huff come from the girl, before she nodded. “Fifteen minutes, then we can go.”

Claudine nodded back in agreement, rising up and pulling Diana along with her, getting ready to lead her to the hall. “We’ll go get our shoes on.”

“Great, you do that while I call for a car.” Weiss responded with a wave of her hand, phone already to her ear.

“…”

“...car?”

//-//-//-//-//

Impressive. Weiss’ car was.

Diana wasn’t one to be interested in such things, but staring at the pristine silvery white with royal to dark blue accents, she would say it was beautiful. Did people call cars beautiful? Or was Diana just odd, as she always was?

She heard Claudine whistle appreciatively. Maybe it was normal.

“How did you even get this here?”

“Had a worker bring it over.”

“From where??? So fast?!”

“Look, I don’t know the details, but this is just another way our… dude… squanders his money. He wants his children to, at least, look the part of being supported publicly. Stupid, but I’m grateful I have a car. Not to him, but to the universe or whatever.”

Claudine chuckled. “You really hate him, don’t you.”

“Absolutely.”

“Same.”

They shared a grin, before the French guided the eldest into the back seat, closing the car door securely before riding shotgun next to a Weiss tinkering with the stereo. Just as she clicked the seatbelt lock in place, Weiss chose her song and the car revved to life.

“This one goes to that bastard old man!” She yelled out her window. “FUCK YOU!”

“Th-there was an existing song with a title such as that?” Diana muttered from the back.

“Is that an appropriate song in this context?” Claudine laughed harder, amused by how crazy a driver Weiss was.

“Who cares? I just wanna flip him off.”

“Totally understandable.”

And they were off.

//-//-//-//-//

Claudine and Weiss knew they were supposed to head off to school right away to finalize some enrollment details, and pick up a few things besides their uniforms, but with the topic floating around earlier, and with Diana not knowing what direction to take academic-wise, they decided they could spend a little bit of time at the mall to divert her attention from all the bad things, then maybe over lunch, attempt a more pleasant discussion regarding school plans.

Also, something had been bothering the pair after they’d gone through Diana’s closet earlier in search of her outfit for the day. While she certainly wasn’t lacking wardrobe, the variety of clothes she had left much to be desired.

They were mostly formal clothes- gowns and dresses, some sleeping wear, a few blouses and dress shirts that didn’t seem like they’d be very breathable on a regular day out,  and a few slacks and pants. A few meaning… two pairs each.

It was almost as if Diana only ever got dressed to meet important people, and to attend lavish events. Probably not too far from the truth. Thus, she might not have needed anything akin to ‘party’ or ‘casual’, or even ‘sporty’ wear. They had found a few jogging pants in the far back, but they seemed worse for wear and only to be used for exercising and/or sleeping.

They were lucky enough to get her dressed in a loose-fitting pale blue button up, sleeves rolled up, because, “No Diana, you will not be buttoning up your cuffs and choking yourself with a damn thick tie, and you don’t need to wear a suit everywhere you go. You’re not going out for an interview.” , paired with one of her two pairs of jeans- a dark denim.

That would have to do. To top it- or bottom? Or round it all off, They had her wear some open-toed shoes, sandals with a little wedged heel at the back.

She was pretty. It worked. Even a sack of rice would have worked for someone as beautiful as Diana.

They would never make her try that though.

So after Weiss had dragged a completely bewildered Diana through all twelve of her favorite shops, they were now sat in a small cafe on the second floor, enjoying their slightly-late lunch.

Diana sipped on her tea like the little miss that she was, delicately placing the cup back down before cutting into her meal with all the grace and poise of some great medieval aristocrat that probably ate up all the etiquette books. Her back was ramrod straight, but somehow managing to look relaxed. She was this picture of elegance, and Claudine had already ran out of fingers to count how many people had stopped and done a double-take as they passed by their group’s table.

Weiss, as fiery and at times uncouth as she was with her language, and some mannerisms, proved to have some semblance of the same type of upbringing. And while Claudine grew up learning all these manners as well, the knowledge of them important for events at Seishou, she could not deny how stifling it all felt.

Should she have ordered something more… ‘graceful’  than her tuna panini?

“Um…” Immediately, she caught both girl’s attention, their eyes focused on her. “So…”

“So?” Weiss parroted, placing her fork down.

‘Huh? Wait a second, Claudine Saijou, what were you supposed to be doing, again?’  What had she wanted to say again? Or did she not really want to say anything, and simply wanted to escape this awkward atmosphere? Why were they in this situation? Why were they having lunch at the mall? Why were they outside? Why…

“Ah-”

“Ah.” Diana repeated this time. “Ah?”

School. They were supposed to be out today to attend to matters for school. School that was starting very soon.

“School.”

“School.” The pair mimicked.

“School!” Claudine raised her hands up, fork still in one of them and dropping a portion of her pastry on the table.

Weiss was about to scold her, before her eyes widened in realization. “SCHOOL!”

“School?” Diana was still confused, but seeing her sisters hurriedly finish their lunch pressured her to do the same, even if she didn’t have much to finish.

“Oh my god, I got too carried away. What time is it, Claudine?” Weiss mumbled, polishing off her plate, and still dabbing her face with a napkin like the true lady she was.

Claudine took a peek at her wristwatch. “Eh, uh.. umm, huh? Wait… it’s almost three?! Weiss! Office hours end soon! And we still have to get to the school!”

“We’ll get there!” Weiss replied, calling for the check, and rummaging through her bag for her wallet. Placing just enough bills to cover their expenses and leaving the change as a tip, the three girls rushed to the car-or well, two girls rushed to a car, dragging a third, clueless one behind them.

Weiss got her engine roaring to life and speeding down the highway (at an acceptable pace, because they were in a rush, not criminals), and managed to get to their school supposedly twenty minutes away, in under fifteen.

Claudine thought she would die with how Weiss drove in their mad run to make it to the university.

“We… we-” She wheezed, hand clutching at her chest. “We could have… I thought I died.” She knelt on the ground, as if praying. “Devil driver.”

“Shut it! You try chasing after time while in that kind of traffic.”

Claudine just waved her off with a hand, breathing still labored. “N-Never again. Never get distracted again.”

“Agreed.” Weiss huffed, locking the car with a click.

Diana stood there, hair slightly frazzled, but still looking the picture of dignity and grace. Weiss had a few wrinkles in her blouse, but otherwise was sparkling perfect. Claudine wondered how the hell they managed that after such a wild ride, at the same time hoping she didn’t look like the mess she felt she was in comparison to the two’s appearances. Really, what was it with heiresses and their impossible-to-ruin looks.

“Okay, children, chop-chop. It’s just about three-fifteen, and we can only guess what kind of terrible lines enrollment season summons. I do not want to find myself standing for an hour amongst seas of people.”

“Chil-” Claudine was about to protest, but decided against wasting more time, getting up and grabbing Diana by the hand and leading her behind Weiss.

This day wasn’t turning out quite as they had planned. Or didn’t plan.

//-//-//-//-//

So they had forgotten one little detail. Well, not little. More like… universal.

“Sorry, li’l ladies; but offices are closed for today. It’s Sunday, my dears.” The old gatekeeper chuckled at the surprised faces of girls who looked like they were just told that all their efforts of rushing had been in vain because… all their efforts of rushing had been in vain. “I wouldn’t blame you, however. Y’all look like you aren’t from around here, fancy-looking hair colors and all. I don’t know if it works different from where you come from, but over here, we don’t usually come to the office on a Sunday.”

Claudine just panted, making an incoherent sound of surprise. Was there really such a thing? She’d always walked into Seishou any day of the week, without rest- ah. Maybe she was just a crazy workaholic, then.

“Well, some schools prob’ly allow students to pick things up, but as for transactions and in-person meet-ups, I don’t think you little ladies have much luck. The headmaster of this school, at least, made sure that workers get Sundays with their families. Policy thing and all. It’s on somethin’ called a ‘webpage’? My granddaughter showed me yesterday, most bizarre thing I’ve seen.”

“Ah, yes. Of course.” Weiss, ever the spokeswoman of the group, nodded, taking note to look up said school’s webpage. They should have done so sooner.

“Sorry, girls.”

“O-oh, no, not at all. We don’t mind. We were… we actually- we were supposed to know this, yes.” Weiss stammered out. “We simply forgot is all.”

“Haha! Well, that’s all right, happens. You’re free to come back tomorrow, though. Although I advise you to come at a time waaay earlier than right now.” He winked.

“Thank you. We’ll remember that.” Weiss replied with a professional smile in place to end the conversation, just like she’d been taught in interaction. It may have seemed a little cold, but that was just something she was used to doing. She did enjoy the man’s quirky sweetness, though she’d never let it show.

The three made their slow walk back to car, no longer rushing for anything in particular. It was the low one experienced after the adrenaline rush. Well, it was time to head home anyway. They could afford to be a little relaxed.

“Weiss?” Claudine called as the car beeped unlock.

“Hmm?”

“Can you drive better this time?”

“…”

“Now listen here-”

//-//-//-//-//

Home.

They were finally home.

Right away, Weiss had sunk into the welcoming softness of their couch, subsequently switching on the television once she’d found the remote. Laying on her back, with legs hanging over one of the armrests, she listened to- more than watched- the steady drone of some random channel while hearing Claudine chopping away in the kitchen in the background.

Diana had gone straight to the bedroom to drop off her ‘spoils of war’, as Weiss had put it. For a rich girl, she was good at talking down prices to a bargain. It was truly a horrific war that reoccurred in each shop they visited, Diana’s feet sore and tired, and all she’d done was walk after Weiss.

For a few hours.

Returning to the common room, Diana spotted Claudine stirring what appeared to be a soup. It smelled amazing, and Diana felt her mouth water. She’d never really been excited for food back at her old home- er… houses, regardless of how extravagant every meal was. Here, however, the simplest grilled cheese had her taste buds squealing in delight, pleasured by the flavors and sensations of even the simplest dish.

Dishes made with tenderness, love, and care.

While waiting, Diana decided to take a seat on the sofa, joining Weiss in her... staring at the TV. They weren’t viewing anything in particular, not really paying attention. Weiss had begun to flip through the channels, Diana listening to the audible clicks of remote buttons. Boring shows, corny jokes, generated laughter were presented in entertainment and comedy channels. They both jolted in their spots as Weiss had jumped to an action channel that had just had some loud explosion go off, the volume up high enough to feel that sound blast through their entire body.

A few more button clicks, many more channels browsed; Weiss and Diana were growing more and more bored. Was Claudine done with dinner yet? Nothing interesting was showing anymore-

[“KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”]

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

“A-A-AAAAHHHH!”

Three ear-shattering screeches filled the room in succession, making Claudine drop her ladel, whipping her head to check if all was alright. “Diana?! Weiss?!” She called, walking around the isle towards the couch. Then she saw two figures glued to one another in tight embrace, crouching into each other. That did not look comfortable. Turning her eyes to the TV playing some generic horror music of violin murder to accompany the scene of a bloodied, toothless woman, and it all clicked.

And she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Pfft-” She attempted to cover her mouth, but to no avail. “AHA-pfff- I- I know I shouldn’t laugh, but-ha...ha...HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, what are you two doing?!” Claudine wiped a tear from her eye, walking the last few steps to stand behind the couch, patting two shivering heads. “Got scared?” She grinned, voice teasing while waiting for that spiteful response from one Weiss Schnee.

“S-scared?! No! N-no, I’m not s-scared! Says who? Huh? Come fight me!”

She got exactly what she desired, giggling in amusement as she stared back in challenge, right into glaring icy blues that could cut. She was beginning to ask herself if this was how a certain partner of hers always felt when messing with her. It made a little more sense. Wasn’t any less infuriating, though.

They held their gazes for a time, before Weiss sighed, backing off as she felt the trembling bundle still in her arms. Claudine also turned her attention there, worried. She picked up the remote from its fallen spot on the floor, switching to a shopping channel with elevator music. Great. The most boring of all channels. Hopefully it would be calming and uneventful enough. They had had enough surprises for one night.

“I’ll get back to cooking. You got her?” Claudine asked softly. Weiss nodded in response, and the youngest went off to finish her task; hopefully dinner would shift their gears for the night.

While she did that, Weiss had settled her back against the couch, Diana still quivering in her hold. She opted to rub comforting circles onto the poor girl’s back, hoping she’d feel better soon.

“You okay?”

A nod.

“You sure?”

Another nod.

“Don’t deal well with horror?”

“...It’s not that.” Diana separated herself from Weiss, now leaning against the backrest as well, staring blankly at the glowing screen. Weiss took note of how Diana’s hand was tucked safely in hers, and felt her lips tip up in a smile. “There was just so much blood.”

“Hmm… but weren’t you going to be a surgeon?” Weiss regretted the reminder as she felt the hand in hers flinch, along with the next words that left Diana’s lips.

“The blood just… reminded me of my own…”

They could hear something metallic dropping on the floor from the kitchen, along with a soft mumbled apology.

Weiss didn’t want to dwell on this topic any longer, not wanting Diana to remember more hurtful memories, simply humming and ending that particular conversation right there. The pair ended up watching a salesman trying to convince them that brooms weren’t made for sweeping, only flying, and since no one could fly, brooms were irrelevant, thus one should buy a vacuum cleaner instead for the home.

“That logic is stupid!” Claudine yelled from the kitchen, revealing that she had been casually listening to all that was going on in the living room. It was her way of looking out for the two in case something happened. While she trusted them that they were no longer going to enter any screaming sessions, one could never be too careful.

Silence reigned over them once more as more products were revealed in the show. The occasional scoff would be heard from Weiss or Claudine about ridiculous prices, or fake specs, but other than those sounds there wasn’t much.

Eventually, Diana had taken control over the remote and flipped to a children’s cartoon; some low-budget show, maybe? ‘Shiny Chariot and The Mystical Bear’, the episode’s title flashed across the screen. Weiss was about to comment on how bad the show might turn out to be, but sealed her mouth shut as she noticed Diana’s eyes glued to the screen, almost sparkling. Did she like things like this?

Hmm…

Time ticked past bit by bit, the occasional flash from the television would throw splashes of the shows vibrant colors onto parts of the room, then fade. Each time, Diana would gasp, and her hands would move, almost as if she were about to clap. It was adorable, Weiss thought. But she was also thinking of something else. A thought that had never left her mind for even a single moment that day.

“Hey, Diana?”

“Yes?” The girl responded, eyes never leaving the screen.

“What about you?”

Diana stole her attention away from the blaring display, turning down the volume with the remote in her good hand, tilting her head to the side in confusion at the question. “What about me?”

“Well,” Weiss exchanged a glance with Claudine who was ever aware, and all-ears on this conversation. They had to ask eventually, right? Hopefully it wasn’t a bad time, nor a sensitive topic.

“Weiss?”

With a slow intake of air, Weiss met similar-colored eyes, trying to look as gentle as possible, voice equally soft. “School. Studies. What do you want to do about it?” Weiss asked. She didn’t know if it was something Diana wanted to be talking about, or if the topic would bring her hurt, trauma and all. Claudine and Weiss really wanted to be careful.

But they just wanted, needed to know. “We’re not pressuring or forcing you to attend school or anything, if you don’t want to.” Weiss clarified. “It’s just that… we don’t feel comfortable leaving you here on your own in the day, coming home at who knows what time at night. I think Claudine and I both agree that we’d feel a little more secure knowing that we can see you around during the daytime, and possibly be together when we can.”

It was almost as if they were talking about watching over a child, not that Diana was one in any way. There was just this sense of desire to protect her from any more agony than she’d already experienced. Everything the younger pair had learned about Diana so far was so sad and painful, it made them the slightest bit anxious that something may happen to add to that, and they wouldn’t be around to be able to help.

“It’s not that we don’t trust you or anything, by the way.” Claudine added, closing the lid on the pot, finally done with the soup. “We’re…” She looked to the side, searching for the right words to pull out of thin air, before meeting Diana’s eyes. “We’re just worried, is all.”

Weiss bit her lip in concern. Were they being too overbearing? Towards someone they’d only been housemates with for a few weeks, and not having known one another before then; were they too intrusive into Diana’s private life? There was a chance Diana would be scared off, but it felt... necessary. To be able to lay this out on the table. After all, weren’t they family now?

Contrary to Claudine and Weiss’s troubles, Diana had found herself speechlessly touched. She’d never really had anyone show her concern, not after her mother passed. Her own direct bloodline rejected her with so much disdain and contempt, she truly felt unworthy of any love for something she didn’t even do. But this... It made her feel all warm, and her heart light to know that such kind people were now a part of her family. A real one, this time around.

That brought a small smile to her lips, thinking of where they would go from now. Despite knowing them  for as short a time as she did, Diana admired and cherished her two new sisters with all heart. She vowed she’d do anything to do better for them, to help them up as much as they did for her, and more.

Her mind continued treading happy thoughts, completely forgetting about the conversation they were having, and unknowingly increasing the anxiety of her waiting companions.

“D-Diana? Um…”

Right. Weiss and Claudine. They asked her something, and were still anticipating her reply. What had they been talking about? Ah, school.

School… huh.

Diana turned back to the TV, leaning against the couch. Enrolling. School. Studying. Diana had been prepared to study medicine all her life, but now that she couldn’t become the surgeon her mother’s family wanted her to be, she didn’t…. quite know what to do.

Of course, there were other options in the medical field, but she didn’t fancy said options at the moment because it only served to feed her now-recognized trauma. Medicine, it reminded her. Reminded her of so many things, both pleasant and… not. She still liked growing herbs and medicinal plants in their little garden that Claudine had helped her set up. It reminded her of her mother. That thought was both a joy, and sadness in and of itself. She had enough medical knowledge to possibly become a different kind of doctor, not necessarily a surgeon; but the history behind how she accumulated all of it was not the best experience.

She realized now that maybe, just maybe, she wanted to take a rest from it. What her whole life had been built to be.

Regardless, this didn’t make her thoughts any clearer, or give her a definite direction for a decision. She sighed, finally easing the growing tension that had settled in the air from all the silence and waiting, the only thing breaking the stillness first being the padding of Claudine’s feet as she made her way to the sitting area, taking her place at the other end of the couch, opposite Weiss.

“I never thought of this until now.” Diana confessed after long moments of ponder, finally speaking her mind.

Weiss and Claudine listened with all attentiveness.

“My life had been planned out for me; from beginning to end. What I would do, where I would go, when I would do this, how I’d do that. I’ve never…” She closed her eyes, picturing herself back then, a simple puppet, stringed along to the will of her handler. “-I haven’t really thought of wanting to do much else than obey and survive… and hopefully gain the love of my family.” She lifted her knees onto the couch, hugging them close to her chest. “A foolish wish on my part.”

“It’s not foolish.” Claudine interjected quickly. “Wanting to be loved isn’t foolish. It’s natural. Everyone wants to be cherished, and supported, and seen as they are. Understood. It’s not foolish.” She move closer to Diana’s side, taking a hand. “Never think that it is.” She squeezed. “Okay?”

Diana felt tears welling up in her eyes; not trusting in her verbal ability to reply, she opted to just nod. Claudine noticed the emotion leaking from her eyes, wiping them away ever gently, as gentle as she always was.

Weiss watched over the interaction fondly, before eventually sighing. Diana’s reply was welcome and all, but it didn’t answer much of their original question of what she planned to do now.

“Diana, do you still want to study medicine?” Weiss asked the important question directly, gaining the attention of the pair beside her. She received a shake of the head, no. “Well, um… do you have any other options? Or something else you wished you could’ve done before you were told that you had to be a doctor?”

Another shake of the head.

“Hmm…” This only drew more of a blank than anything. “Ah.” Suddenly she had a thought.

“Weiss? Did you come up with anything?”

“Sort of.” She shrugged. “Well, what are your thoughts on a change of pace?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Claudine and I go to the same school.” She pointed out, matter-of-factly. “If the worry was not being able to see Diana during the day, then wouldn’t it make sense to just… go to school together? All of us?” She directed the question more to Claudine.

“Weiss… we go to an arts school.” Claudine replied, confused. “That’s like… the furthest Diana could be from being a doctor.” As far as she knew her, Weiss wasn’t one for suggestions that were so left field, usually quite realistic, but maybe she was onto something.

“And? As someone who grew up in an environment quite like Diana’s, heiress things and all that,” She explained with a twirl of a finger through the air, “I can say that by experience, you’re made to learn all the most useless showy things.”

Claudine laughed at that. Well, maybe that was a valid point.

“I’ve known enough people to know that you have something like that up your sleeve.” She turned to Diana. “I’m sure you’ve had other interests besides studying medicine, right? Nothing like a job, or anything. A hobby?”

Diana thought long and hard. As she came into her last two years of high school, she had been made to focus completely on preparing to get into a good medicine-related program, and dropped anything unrelated to that goal. But before that, what had she been doing?

“Ah.”

“See? There is something.” Weiss smiled.

“Well… I remember my guardians signing me up to do painting and photography just as I entered my teen years. They even hired tutors and all.” Diana fished through her vague memories of the past, actually wondering if her camera from back then was alive and well. “It...was a hobby I actually grew to love. Possibly the first from all the other skills that had been pushed onto me.”

Diana continued to explain that as she was immersed deeper into the medium, the more she enjoyed. The Cavendish’s hadn’t minded it at the time as it brought some sort of prestige to their family. She also mentioned having played the piano since childhood to entertain guests in the event that she was invited by the main house to show off their genius charge, despite not finding use for her outside such functions.

“They had me stop eventually, however, as they weren’t the skills a doctor needed.”

Talk about tossing something away once it held no use or value anymore. It was really frustrating to know just how sad Diana’s background was before they’d met.

Weiss shook her head. This wasn’t the time for this. No more. They would be building a new present for Diana, and for themselves. Together. She wasn’t sure why she was so comfortable with the prospect of supporting one another with these people. Truly, it hadn’t been long since they’d met; and yet there was this sense of camaraderie and familiarity that they had possibly always wanted from a family that they’d found in each other. Maybe it was that.

Possibly the thought of starting with someone on a blank slate, with no preconceived expectations and assumptions despite knowing the terrors of their pasts. Or maybe it was because of that that they got along so well. Who knows.

What she did know was that she had the back of these people with her in this room, at this time, and she trusted that they’d have hers. They were family like that. Solving problems together. And speaking of problems, they just found out how to deal with their latest.

“Sounds like we can get you in.” Weiss nodded in assessment, taking in the latest information Diana had shared. This could work.

“Weiss,” Claudine turned to her, sighing. “Even so, this school is quite demanding. I’m not doubting our older sister’s abilities and-or experience, but…” As far as she knew, this was a special institute with students from all over the globe, coming to perfect years-worth of craft. Although their father had been the one to enroll them, Claudine knew from the letters and documents she’d received from him that her recommendations from high school played a huge roll in getting into a school that didn’t accept just anyone.

“Then we get a recommendation from her previous schools.” So Weiss could read minds now, apparently.

“That still isn’t a guarantee…” Claudine sighed again, but was slowly beginning to accept this inevitable plan of action. It seemed as though a motivated Weiss was an unstoppable Weiss. She should’ve taken the hint from the shopping and driving.

“Come on, Miss Actress. Where’s your thirst for flair? For adventure and beating the odds? Where’s the passion? On the stage? The world is your stage and all that jazz.” Weiss exclaimed dramatically, so unlike her. Almost as if she was playing a role.

Claudine rolled her eyes, smiling nonetheless. “This actress just got a reality check, thank you very much. And so many odds. I have enough to beat already.” She chuckled, thinking on everything that had occurred over the course of such a short time. Finding out who her true father was, hearing about her mother’s illness, discovering she shared the same blood in her veins as two equally unfortunate- or really, more unfortunate souls. “But I suppose, there’s always room for some excitement and a challenge.” She’d never let one bring her down. She always did love a good challenge.

“Perfect! So your on board.” Weiss cheered, turning to the most important piece of their plan. “And what about you Diana?” She asked, softer, kinder. “Do you want to maybe try this out? With us? We know we might not seem all that trustworthy, and you haven’t known us lo-”

“I trust you more than you know.” Diana cut her off with a smile. “Thank you. For all you’ve been doing for me. You truly have yet to understand the depth of my gratefulness towards you both. Thank you.”

Her sincerity pierced through their hearts, melting them as Diana always did. Weiss actually thought she’d cry. A time and place for everything, though.

“Well!” She exclaimed, getting up from the couch. With a shrug, she commented offhandedly, “If all else fails, guess old moneybags might just be good for something.”

“WEISS!” Claudine gasped. “Are you suggesting we bribe the school? This honorable institution?!” Despite her words, she was smiling, almost laughing. Whether Weiss was serious or joking, it was absurd… and incredibly plausible.

“I know they might not accept Cash, okay. Calm down.” Weiss flipped her hair over her shoulder. “That’s why I said, ‘if all else fails’.” She spoke with air quotes. “I’d rather not do it either, y’know? Dirty our hands like that old man. Though I would love to drag him through the mud with rumors since we will indeed use his oh-so-good name,” Diana actually giggled at that one. “I’d rather we not get the same backlash.”

Claudine folded her arms in front of her, processing it all. It sounded so unrealistic. School was going to begin in just about two weeks, need she remind them! Would they have enough time to get everything ready? But then, this was the same Weiss who had a luxury car delivered to their door in a mere fifteen minutes.

“Oh Claudine, Dear Claudine, why do you fret?” Weiss laughed, putting on an obnoxious facade in Claudine’s very honest opinion, like one of those irritating rich girls back in France. “Trust in me and the power of connections.”

“Thought you hated those connections.”

“They’re useful.” Weiss shrugged, confident in their plan. There was also Diana’s family name to consider. From what they’d known so far, they were quite famous and surely had a pull of power somehow. She was sure that it would be of value as well.

“Scary. You people are scary. Heiresses are scary.” Claudine muttered, resigning to this decision. “Whatever. I’ll help out with what I can.”

“Perfect!” Weiss clapped, hand already typing away on her phone.

“Guess this means we won’t be meeting that old man tomorrow, huh? Claudine mused, thinking back to the gatekeeper they’d met earlier in the day. After all, they needed to prepare for Diana’s enrollment. Their business was simple enough and could wait until the same day. “I wonder if he’ll actually remember us and wait for the three foolish little girls to come back earlier.” Claudine looked to her sisters for their thoughts.

Diana simply shrugged.

Weiss actually thought about it for a moment, pausing her actions, a finger tapping against her cheek.

“Nah.”

A/N: As always, I welcome any and all feedback! It really helps with the motivation and like… my personal growth. Thank you for reading and til next time!

~Shintori Khazumi

[fanfictionaries]

Love and Academia Ch. 3 - Dream Homes and Disloyalty

Pairing: AU Professor!Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Swearing, smut, NSFW/18+ only, mentions of death/violence/suicide

Author’s note: We get a nice little look into Bucky’s perspective this week. Also because this is an AU and I am the God on the worlds I create, Steve has a big family and he’s from the midwest. I just want him to be a happy little farm boy! 

And as always, I do not currently have a beta reader so please excuse any larger issues. it’s just little ol’ me!

***

Bucky’s feet hit the ground. Left, right, left, right. He was on the final mile of his morning run. Usually by this time he’d be well into his runner’s high, feeling great as he finished off his fifth mile, but today it was like each step made him weaker and slower. His legs cut through the air like a knife cutting through frozen butter. He thought about stopping, just giving up and calling that day’s run short, but a yip at his side and the brush of a cold nose on his calf eliminated the idea immediately. Trixie, his border collie, would be an energetic wreck all day if she didn’t get her full five miles. So, he pushed through, finally slowing to a walk when he’d fully completed his run.

“There, ya happy?” Bucky asked, looking down at his dog. Trixie looked up at her owner briefly, tail wagging, tongue hanging from her mouth, and looking as pleased as ever as she padded beside him. He held her leash loosely in his hand as Trixie led the way towards their new house. Their new home.

It was a red brick Victorian style home nestled on a quiet back street. It’s deep green door, white trim, and beautiful garden of roses and irises held a certain charm. The garden had been the main selling point for him and Diane. Diane had been so taken by the white picket fence in the front yard, with the ivy-colored trellis framing the walkway to the front door. She insisted they put in an offer straight away, even though they weren’t planning on moving for another year. Bucky had called her crazy, saying that it was insane for them to pay both rent in Brooklyn and a mortgage in Idaho. But she had reasoned that with both of their jobs and their minor expenses they could easily afford it and it was a small price to pay for their dream home.

“You mean your dream home?” Bucky laughed.

“It’s not your dream home?” Diane asked, slightly crestfallen at the realization.

“Your dream is my dream,” Bucky said, and it was true. His dream was her and therefore whatever her dream was, was his as well.

But now as he treaded across the loose boards on the front porch to unlock the door that stuck, he cursed her for making this their dream. Opening the door and crossing the threshold, he unhooked Trixie’s leash and placed his keys on the table next to the front door. Trixie, apparently wiped from their run, laid on her bed across the living room and promptly fell asleep. Bucky reached for the remote and turned on the TV, skimming through the channels until he got the local news, and then settled into the rest of his workout. It was always the same: sit ups, pushups, pull ups, repeat. The same simple routine helping to bring him clarity. Something he needed a lot of these days.

The decision to leave Brooklyn had been his idea. His contract with NYU was coming to an end, and he just kept feeling like he needed a change. He’d called Brooklyn home his entire life. Despite his short time away for undergrad at Boston University, he’d been born in Brooklyn, grown up in the streets of Brooklyn with his brothers, gotten his PhD at NYU, gotten his first teaching position there, met Diane there. But he was growing restless of the same old story. Diane, thankfully, agreed. She, being from Montana, enjoyed her time on the east side of the country, but was ready to be closer to home.

Bucky had just finished his last set when his phone buzzed on the coffee table. Not even thinking, he reached for it and pressed the green call button.

“So, he finally answers,” Steve boomed from the other end. Bucky sighed inwardly; he’d been avoiding Steve all week since they’d last seen each other at the bar.

“Hey man, what’s up?”

“Oh, you know, I was just wondering if I could actually see my best friend and catch up with him finally. Or will I have to wait another six years?”

“Alright, alright, message received jerk. Why don’t we grab coffee this morning? I’m headed into the office a little later and I have time before then,” Bucky said, feeling guilty for not making it up to Steve for completely bailing on their guys night last week. Steve laughed and agreed, throwing out a time and place before ending the call.

Bucky showered before dressing in a pair of jeans and white t-shirt. He brushed his wet hair and contemplated trimming his beard before saying ‘fuck it’ and walking out of the bathroom. Making his way down the stairs, he was halfway down when a step gave under his foot. With a loud crack, the wood split in two and he was ankle deep in pain and frustration.

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

Bucky pulled his foot from the hole and continued walking down the stairs gingerly. Pulling up his pant leg, he assessed that there was minimal damage, and proceeded to grab his wallet, keys, and phone from the coffee table. He crouched down by Trixie’s bed and gave her a scratch behind the ear.

“I’ll be back later girl,” Bucky said. Trixie nuzzled his palm with her nose before giving it a kiss and laying her head back down on her bed.

Fifteen minutes later and Bucky was seated at a table in a small coffee shop, ice coffee in hand, with Steve sat across from him.

“It’s good to see you man. Really good,” Steve said, taking a sip of his coffee and leaning back in his seat.

“I know, it really is. Tell me again why you moved all the way out here after college?” Bucky asked, rubbing a bead of condensation away from the side of his cup.

“Oh, you know me. Boston was fun but after four years I was done with the big city. It’s not home, but most of my family isn’t even in Minnesota anymore anyways.”

“And you’re liking it here so far?”

“Oh, I love it. My parents are here, so is my sister Mary. Mike’s still in Bloomington, but him and the wife have been talking about moving down here too. You know us Rogers—can’t stay apart for too long. We always end up finding our way back together,” Steve chuckled.

“Yea, you are a dysfunctional bunch, aren’t you,” Bucky teased.

“Oh please, I’ve met the Barnes family several times. How many times has your mom called you?”

“Today or in the last week?” Bucky laughed, thinking about how his mom had called him at least three times a day for the past month he had been in Idaho.

“Mary still seeing that finance guy?” Bucky asked, trying to remember the small details Steve had dropped about his family over the years through their phone calls.

“Oh Doug? God no. No, he turned out to be a real piece of shit…why? You interested?” Steve grinned, raising an eyebrow at Bucky.

“You seriously trying to set me up with your sister man?”

“Hey—" Steve held his hands up in defense “—I’m just saying. She’s always had a bit of a thing for you.”

“Well, that’s certainly news to me, but I’m not exactly single Steve,” Bucky sighed.

“I thought you said Diane said—”

“Yea, I know what she said but it doesn’t really mean I agree with it. That was her idea, not mine.”

“So, the other night at the bar?”

“Was a mistake. Besides, nothing really happened.”

Steve looked skeptical, “She seemed pretty upset right before she left. You sure nothing really happened?”

“What are you implying?”

“Nothing. I’m just worried about you.”

There was a long silence as they sat there. Bucky refusing to look at Steve. Steve refusing to look away from Bucky. Bucky had felt guilty that night with Emily. He truly had. Diane’s words had run through his head that night over and over again. He thought that if he had kept it impersonal, maybe he could do it. With Diane not there, he was lonely and god, he had been wildly attracted to Emily. Probably more than he liked to admit. But no matter what Diane said, when it came down to it, it still felt like a betrayal.

“Well, at least something good came out of that night,” Bucky stated, steering the conversation in another direction.

“Oh yea? What?”

“I’m assuming you went home with her friend, yea?”

At the mention of Natasha, Steve’s face went bright red and he coughed into his hand, “We uh, no we didn’t. She wanted to but…”

“You said no?” Bucky asked shocked.

“Yea, well you know me. I’m a bit old fashioned. I want to take a girl out on an actual date before we—”

“Fuck each other’s brains out?”

“Something like that—" Steve smirked into his coffee cup, “—I’m taking her out for dinner tomorrow actually.”

Bucky smiled at Steve, his best friend looking bashful but excited, “Gonna’ show her the ol’ Steve Rogers’ charm?”

“I’m just hoping I don’t make a fool of myself. It’s been a while since I went out on a date. You know, what with me and Peggie splitting and she’s…very confident. She definitely knows what she wants,” Steve admitted.

“Oh, you’re for sure going to make a fool of yourself, but I don’t think that’ll hurt your chances.”

Bucky laughed as Steve reached across the table and tried to punch him in the arm.

“Jerk,” Steve said, smiling the whole time. They talked for a while longer, Bucky asking about Steve’s family and Steve doing the same. They talked about mutual friends and what they were up to. About an hour had passed when Steve asked about Bucky’s new job.

“So, when do you start your new gig?”

“This coming Monday. I was actually going to stop by today and take care of paperwork, maybe check out my new office,” Bucky said, draining the last of his coffee.

“Well, I won’t keep you from that. I should probably get going. I’ve got to head to the gym and then get home and get some stuff done.”

They stood and said their goodbyes, promising to hang out again soon before exiting the coffee shop and getting in their cars. It was a short drive from there to the university. The red brick and lush green trees reminding Bucky of home. However, stepping out of his truck, the dry heat was a pleasant reminder that this place was definitely not humid, sticky Brooklyn in August. Locking his car behind him in the visitor’s parking lot, he walked casually towards the Life Science’s building. He admired the landscaping as he walked, always finding humor in how every university seemed to try and make their campus as pretty as possible right before school started. A nicer grounds always did well for visiting prospective students, parents dropping off their children for their first year, and returning students who wanted a reason to stay.

The Life Science’s building was definitely older than some of the other buildings on campus, but that didn’t both him too much. He climbed the stairs, old linoleum steps peeling and cracking as he double checked the office number on his phone. Room 439. As he neared the room tucked back into a corner of the floor, he began to hear music. Gradually it increased in volume, a punky beat from a band that he recognized. It became clear that the music was coming from room 439 when he entered through the front door. Looking around he saw an older lab, boxes piled high and lab equipment strewn about haphazardly. The music was coming from the office within the lab, this time though, he could hear a voice singing along to it. It was loud, raspy, and overall offkey. Maybe he had the wrong room number? He walked towards the office, hoping to ask whoever was in there for some help finding the right place. Inside was a young woman dressed in a pair of baggy jeans and t-shirt. He watched in amusement as she danced to the music, obviously under the impression that she was alone as her hips wiggled and head bopped side to side.

“Um, excuse me. I think this is my office,” he called over the music, feeling bad that he was probably going to embarrass the girl. She jumped at his voice and when she whipped around the ground fell out from underneath him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked. Anger, for some reason, being his initial reaction to seeing Emily standing in what was supposed to be his office. Emily, a woman who had told him that she was a bartender. Emily, a woman he had almost hooked up with and then snubbed very dickishly at a bar about a week ago.

She seemed pretty upset right before she left. Steve’s words rang in his mind.

[gingerpeachtae]

Concentric [2]

masterlist

Words: 7k

Genres: fantasy!AU, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, eventual smut (?)

Warnings: references to/after-effects of being choked

Summary: You had been ready for the end of the semester. You had been ready to spend time away from your best friend, Jimin, and finally move on from the feelings you harbored. Yet, after your friend was forced to reveal a secret, you found yourself in a new world that was chock full of magic, war, and wonder. So, here you were, basically thrown into your own fantasy novel, with your best friend on one side, and six male warriors on the other.

A/N: Here it is! I most likely won’t be able to update as fast as this in the future since my internship starts next week, but I will do my best to not have you guys waiting around for too long. Again, a big thanks to everyone reading Concentric, ya’ll are rockstars! Anyways, I hope you engoy the update 🥰

Neither of you spoke as you walked back to the parking lot. After you made your statement, Jimin had simply hung his head and limply consented. With a regret-filled sigh, he had turned to the Saeni and, you assumed, informed them that you would be joining the trip. Once he was finished speaking, he had quickly ushered you out of the clearing before you could get a glimpse of their reactions.

The two of you were walking side by side, and although you had questions writhing inside of your head, you remained quiet. For the moment, you were content just walking the trail. To hear the crunch of gravel and shift of dirt beneath your sneakers. To listen to the creaking sway of trees in the wind. To feel the sunlight filter through the leaves and onto your face. To absorb that silent, yet alive feeling of the forest. Jimin, on the other hand, did not seem content in the slightest. His eyes remained downcast on the earthy ground, refusing to look your way. You could tell that he was wary about you finally knowing the truth, and even more uneasy at the thought of you coming along with him and the others. He was, understandably, concerned about, so you tried to not take his avoidance to heart.

When the cars became visible through the foliage, you looked to Jimin once more, hoping he would finally return the favor. He just kept walking. Starting to feel a wee bit of rejection, you trailed behind him. With a jolt, you realized that he did not make a sound while making his way along the path. Not a kicking of rocks or snapping of twigs. Just a shift in the air as he marched on.

How many clues had you been blind to?

As you pulled your keys out of your jacket, you stilled as you saw the white glint of the dreamcatcher through his dark windshield. No longer sensing your immediate presence behind him, Jimin paused to turn around. When he saw you looking beyond him, he followed your line of sight and flinched slightly when he realized what you were staring at.

Sharply he said, “Go straight to my house,” but added in a pained whisper, “Please.”

Eyes flicking back to him, you noticed his wrecked expression. You gave him a nod because you still did not trust your voice to withhold the questions building inside of you. You unlocked your car and waited for him to leave, not wanting to arrive at his house before him. Usually, you wouldn’t have given it a second thought since you had a key to his place. However, this was a tricky situation and you wanted to tread carefully.

Noting that Jimin began backing out of his space, you turned on the ignition and put it in reverse, not bothering to plug your phone into the aux cord. Your mind was still reeling a little too much to consider listening to music. Instead, you lowered your windows and continued to listen to the forest, the sounds comforting you as you started to drive.

You gently knocked on his weathered, white door to alert him that you were there as you softly opened it and stepped through the threshold. Entering the living room, you saw Jimin sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. Your heart ached, never having seen him appear so lost before. Sitting down beside him, you waited silently until he was ready.

He cursed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Wherever you’re comfortable with.” You reached out to grab his hand and he clung back tightly.

“Okay, um, I guess I’ll start with Illain first…

It’s a world that doesn’t exist in our universe, but it is connected to Earth. Think of it like a parallel universe without having replicated people. What happens to one doesn’t directly affect the other, but they are still linked. Does that make sense?”

You nodded even though it didn’t, at least not completely. You let it go, though, because you weren’t concerned about those specifics.

“It’s named after the mother goddess, Illai, and it’s not as… industrialized as Earth is. Most of it is still covered in forests and natural landscapes. Saeni are the people who inhabit it. They are similar to humans, but, as you saw, have elongated ears, as well as a few other, ah, differences.”

You pulled your hand back as you blurted, “Oh god. Don’t tell me they have tentacles!? Holy shit, do they? Wait, do you!?”

“What the fuck? No. There’re no tentacles. You seriously need to stop reading weird smut online.”

“Yes, because it’s the tentacles that would’ve made this whole situation completely ridiculous.”

After seeing Jimin’s stressed-out expression, you let out a small apology and allowed him to continue.

“There’s differences like heightened senses and reflexes, as well as some other stuff.”

“The ‘other stuff’ sure sounds like some tentacles,” you mumbled to yourself before shutting up.

“A handful of Saeni are able to tap into an energy that flows through Illain and they get certain abilities from harnessing it. It’s basically magic. The petal I gave you was a form of that energy; it allows the recipients to see and hear the Saeni when they are glamoured. Which is why it seemed like we were alone until you took it. There’s another petal, a yellow one, that offers the ability to understand the Saeni language and speak it. You’ll have to take both petals every day when we cross over to Illain.”

“So, is one of the Saeni from the park able to manipulate the energy into magic?”

“Yeah, Yoongi. You’ll get to know each of them. They’re… very special to me. They’re my brothers.”

Your eyes widened, wondering how they were his siblings when they looked nothing alike. Maybe genetics worked differently for Saeni?

Seeing your reaction, Jimin said, “Not my actual brothers! We’re not related, but they’re brothers to me in every sense of the word except biologically.”

“I get it.” You grabbed his hand again and gave it a squeeze. “Family isn’t always blood.” 

It was quiet for a few heartbeats.

“So… how do you fit into everything?”

You were exhausted by the time you unlocked your front door. You were hungry, dirty, and sore. You briefly wondered whether the entire thing had actually even occurred. But it did. The two hours you spent talking with Jimin was evidence enough.

He had told you how his mother somehow ended up crossing over to Illain one day, and there she met his father and they fell in love. Though, shortly after Jimin was born, his father died, and his mom returned to Earth with a half-human, half-Saeni baby.

Knowing it would be wrong to keep his true heritage a secret, his mom told him what he really was when he was young. One of his dad’s friends would come to check on them every year until he was seven. After that, Jimin started going with him to Illain for a few months out of the year to train as a warrior, as many Saeni did at that age. It was during this training that he met the other Saeni from the park. The seven of them stuck together throughout the years and eventually formed their own kiela, which Jimin explained was the Saeni word for seven, and it was considered a sacred number. When seven warriors become indescribably close, they take a vow to stick with one another and form a permanent group, a kiela. You weren’t sure how it worked with Jimin being gone most of the time, but you didn’t bring that up since it seemed like a sensitive topic.

You sighed as you made your way through your apartment, clutching the list of items Jimin had written down that he suggested you bring on the trip. Reading through it, you noted that you had all the materials, hence, you decided that packing could wait until post-shower and food.  You yanked off your shoes and clothes before dragging your tired body to the bathroom. Promptly after flipping on the light, you looked into the mirror and flinched at your reflection. You looked like shit.

Hair tangled, skin scraped, and dirt underneath your nails. The worst part was your neck, though. Red marks and purple bruises lined your throat in a vague shape of a hand. You sharply inhaled as you gingerly prodded at the tender area, and you grimaced at the thought of leaving it unconcealed to heal. You weren’t bringing make up with you, therefore, there would be nothing to hide the brutal marks. It was a done deal and there was nothing to be done about, so with one last look at your disheveled appearance, you turned on the hot water and stepped into the shower.

Groaning at the sound of your alarm the next morning, you were temporarily confused as to why you were waking up at five in the morning.

Fucking hell, this is worse than accounting.

You caught sight of the backpack you had carefully packed last night when you leaned over to slap off the shrill alarm. The events from the prior day came rushing back to you. Throwing the comforter off of you, you groaned again as cold air hit your body. But you forced yourself up to prepare for your departure. You made the bed, double-checked the contents of the backpack, went to the bathroom, ate the rest of the fruit in your fridge and made sure all the items with an expiration date had been thrown out, and filled up your giant water bottle. Glancing at the clock, you saw that it was 5:38. You needed to meet Jimin at his house at 6, so you only had a few more minutes left before you had to leave. Hurriedly, you grabbed the note you had written that was addressed to your parents, and gently placed it on your bed along with your cell phone. No point in bringing it when you would have no service. Also, since you were essentially disappearing and couldn’t exactly tell your parents what you were doing or where you were going, you had decided to write them a letter explaining that Jimin had an issue and needed help resolving it. You typically contacted your parents at least once a day, so they immediately would know something was up when you didn’t reply anymore. You just hoped that they would come check your apartment and see the letter. Taking a last look at your home, you took a deep breath before shouldering the backpack and closing the front door behind you.

You reached Jimin’s house with four minutes to spare. Sitting down on the steps leading to his porch, you waited for him to come out. Promptly, at 6 AM you heard him walk out and plop down next to you.

“The Uber will be here in two.”

Both of you agreed that Ubering would be for the best. Neither of you had wanted to leave your car sitting at the park. It would raise suspicion and you didn’t need a manhunt looking for you when you would be nowhere to be found. Also, you were both broke college students and that was not a good combination with parking tickets.

An hour and ten minutes had passed since you had gotten into the car that pulled up to Jimin’s house, and you now found yourself entering the same clearing as yesterday. As you emerged from the branches and shrubs, you saw that the Saeni were already waiting for you. Before acknowledging them, you stuck your tongue out at the tree you had the pleasure of being pinned to, noticing that it was a huge, old oak tree. When you moved your gaze back to the Saeni, you saw that they all had thick hoods pulled over their heads. It made it impossible to discern which were the ones you had interacted with. Some of them leaned back against trees casually, one sat cross legged on the ground, and another was curled up underneath a tree napping. Tilting your head, you wondered if it was the mint-haired one who did the same thing yesterday. As you looked curiously at the sleeping lump, you heard a voice directed at you.

“Hi, I’m Namjoon. I’m sort of the leader of the group.”

You turned on your heel to see the tall Saeni with yellow eyes introducing himself while he pulled back his hood. You leaned your head back to take in his face and features. His brown hair was shorter on the sides, and his hoop earrings each had a dark bead hanging from the metal. The heavy head of his mace was visible over his right shoulder. His face lit up with happiness as you looked at him. He raised his hand to his chest, but suddenly jerked and brought his hand to the side in a small wave. Jimin watched him with amusement, while you just smiled at the endearing male and gave him a small wave of your own.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Namjoon. I’m Y/N. Are you the lucky recipient of a yellow petal today?”

“Hmm? Oh, no! This is actually all me,” he said sheepishly. “I really like learning, so I had Jimin teach me when he had spare time.”

“Why are you embarrassed about that? It’s really impressive!” You gawked at him.

We stan an intellectual in this house!

Namjoon let out a shy but grateful, “Thank you.

“So, obviously we aren’t glamoured right now since you can see us, but we will be when we cross over to Illain so here are your daily petals,” he said as he reached into a pocket and pulled out the delicate, magical objects.

“Ah, yes, here we go. Thank you for supplying my drugs,” you sarcastically retorted as you took the petals from his hand.

“Oh, and you’ll be glamoured too! No offense, but if you weren’t, you would be really suspicious and kind of attract unwanted attention…”

You let out a laugh and nodded in agreement.

“Well, please let me know if you need anything or have any questions, okay? I want you to feel as comfortable as we can make you.”

Your heart fluttered at his kind words. You were really touched that he went out of his way to make you feel welcomed and included.

“I will. Thank you Namjoon!” You told him.

As he walked away from you to converse with another Saeni, you popped the pink petal into your mouth. Stars and galaxies once again erupted behind your eyes. You could see an entire universe in front of you, expanding and unfurling with desire. Bright lights were born that kissed the edge of your vision. You could hear the cosmos sing and the moons weep. Sweet as cream on the tip of your tongue. Secretive as lovers under a dark sky. And it was wanting something. It was anxious and coiling with ambition. There was something in those lights that demanded your attention. It grabbed at you, gripped your focus, and then released all at once. The stars dimmed, and the galaxies died. Their blinding music fading to the calm psithurism of the wild forest around you.

You had to blink to get your senses back to normal before you were able to ready yourself for the next petal. You tensed your limbs as you moved the yellow object toward your mouth. But when you finally dropped the delicate thing onto your tongue, it did not expel a grand universe. Rather, it was a cocoon of sensation that was gently draped over you. Slow as honey, and thick and heavy like a winter blanket. It was sitting on a porch during a thunderstorm drinking tea. It was eating cookies fresh out of the oven. It was the feeling of being alone and content and tiny. It was raw happiness and understanding. And then it was just… gone. Like the galaxies were.

You sighed, eliciting a questioning look from your best friend. You shook your head with a small smile to let him know that you were fine. He moved to direct you to the start of the journey, but you held up a hand. There was something to take care of first.

You inhaled deeply and quickly expelled the air, mentally giving yourself a hype session of how your Momma didn’t raise no bitch before turning the Saeni.

“Before we go, I do want to know one thing.” You addressed the group.

A couple nodded in acknowledgement, and the others did object. So, ignoring the urge to rub your sore and bruised neck, you raised your chin, looked directly at them, and said, “I want to know which one of you tried to kill me.”

Jimin stiffly coughed and stared at you like you were going insane.

You head tilted in the direction of that stupid, old oak, in case they had forgotten that wonderful moment from yesterday, and you waited. It wasn’t like you were asking because you were scared or wanted to avoid the person. Jimin had told you that they were cautious around strangers, and the way you had raised your voice had ended up setting them over the edge. A simple, though brutal and unfortunate, misunderstanding. As a result, you were honestly just curious.

The six warriors were quiet for several breaths until one stepped forward. He reached up to the rich brown hood that shadowed his face, his hands hesitating for only a heartbeat before pulling back the thick fabric. His right hand returned to rest on the glittering red stone atop his dagger.

“That would have been me,” the burgundy head claimed with cold eyes.

And why were you not surprised at that? After all, he was the one that had glared at you like you had stolen his favorite toy. Or maybe it was because you kicked him in the balls? Though in your defense, he did choke you, so you had just gotten even.

You rolled your eyes then met his gaze straight on. “May I be privileged enough to know your name?”

Jimin leaned over and inquired what you were doing with a whisper. You held back a shiver at his warm breath on your neck and voice in your ear, and only gave a mere shrug in response. You were on a mission, so you were accepting no distractions.

“It’s only fair that I know the name of my attacker, don’t you think?” You added innocently, cocking your head to side.

“Jungkook,” he spit out through his teeth like the reveal physically pained him.

His hand shifted to grip the handle of the dagger tightly. He had done the same thing yesterday after you started returning his glare, so you suspected it was a habit of his when he got peeved. Yet, from the action, you didn’t miss the scars that adorned the back of his hand. Nor the cautionary look Jimin gave him. You pursed your lips when Jungkook gave the handle one final squeeze before loosening his grip. Whoever your Slim Jim was in this new world, he apparently carried some weight if he was obeyed whenever he threw those looks around. The others were all watching the exchange with intrigue, except for the one still resting under a tree.

Geez, does nothing excite that dude? I mean I like sleep too buddy, so Big Mood, but still.

Moseying your way over to the annoyed male, you gave him a sweet smile. “Well, Jungkook, just know that since I can see, hear, and understand you now, I won’t be as helpless next time.”

You glanced down at the area that had been throttled with your leg not 24 hours ago and converted your smile to a smirk.

“And I won’t need to resort to cheating to win either.”

From behind you, you could hear Jimin swear in an exasperated tone.

Jungkook’s eyes caught sight of your ravaged neck and they momentarily softened. You thought you even saw a flash of guilt, but they quickly turned cold once more. Being right in front of him, you noticed that they were a piercing light green rimmed in a darker shade of emerald. If you weren’t so fed up with the guy’s antics, you would have likened them to peridot. But since you were, you decided to settle on old peas. He, too, had piercings in his ears, just one silver hoop on his right side and three on the left. Your attention was brought back to the matter at hand when he pulled out the short blade from the scabbard at his hip. He closely inspected the cunning dagger. You would have admired the beauty of the weapon, if not for the fact that it was intimidatingly close to your face. Your eyes were stuck on the blade, watching as he slowly turned it in the rising sunlight. While the light was refracting off the polished metal, you could see that there was an inscription on the dagger, but you couldn’t make out what it was.

Not even bothering to look up from his weapon, he challenged with a sharp tone that matched the edge of the blade, “Oh, do you really think so little human?”

You blinked at his serrated voice, wondering how you should respond.

What would Steve Rogers do?

Well, he would never back the fuck down from a fight. So, neither would you.

You accepted his challenge by returning your eyes to his face. His own flickering up when he felt the weight of your unfaltering stare.

When his eyes met yours, you slapped on a cute smirk. “Mmmm before I forget…”

You leaned in as close as you dared with his wicked blade still in front of you while maintaining eye contact with his green orbs. “I may be into choking, but if you’re going to do it, you should really learn the proper technique.”

You trailed your eyes down and back up his physique as you finished. “I’m a simple girl, but I can be hard to please and I expect my partners to know how to handle themselves.”

Pulling back from Jungkook and returning your attention to Jimin, you beamed and clapped your hands together. Not before noting how stiff the burgundy-haired asshat had gone at your words. God this guy. His damn ego couldn’t even take some valid constructive criticism. Well, it wouldn’t be your fault when he killed someone mid-thrust. Unless he was celibate, which would really explain why he was so uptight. Glancing at the rest of the Saeni, they were a mix of complete shock and struggle to withhold their laughter. Their struggle becoming more strained when Jungkook abruptly marched away from you.

“Alrighty! What are we waiting around for? Let’s go!” You called out to the group.

Jimin pushed a hand through his hair and grabbed your wrist, tugging you along while he chuckled and shook his head at you.

“I’m going on an adventure!” You said as you allowed yourself to be led to a new world.

“Really?” You dragged the word out. “I thought we were finally going.”

The beginning of your adventure ended a mere 15 feet away. Right in front of that big, old oak tree you were well acquainted with.

“Stupid tree,” you muttered beneath your breath, “I hope you never grow leaves again so you’re permanently naked.”

You continued the creative curses at the ancient being until they trailed off into silence.

“Uhhh. Hey, Slim Jim? What’re they doing?” You questioned as the six warriors began climbing up the tree’s study branches. “Shouldn’t they be doing an spell or something? Isn’t that how it usually works?”

“Not in real life.” He smiled, giving you a push toward to the tree.

This is so not as cool. Or fun.

You hoisted yourself limb from limb and up and up and up. You were sweating by the time you finally caught up with the Saeni. Jimin climbed right behind you, keeping a hand either on your back or leg to hold you steady during your ascent. He had warned you not to look down when you began pulling your body up through the branches.

It seemed he really enjoyed his warnings nowadays.

But, you couldn’t help yourself and shifted to look downward for a moment. And another moment. And another. You couldn’t look away. You were so high up. And you loved it. The wind thrashed through the leaves and unbound stands of your hair from where you had pulled it back. They danced across your face like they had never felt a true breeze before. You felt your body sway with the thick branch you were crouched on, and you threw a wild smile at the boy beneath you, y/e/c eyes glittering with awe. You heard some of the Saeni give an approving hum at your wonder.

Okay, so maybe this wasn’t so bad.

Your grin grew bigger when you saw the mint-haired Saeni raise his hands and speak low and fast. His palms began emanating a blue, glittering light that matched the strands on his head. He was doing an incantation! Or something. You weren’t sure what was going on, but it made you bounce on your branch in anticipation. Your best friend quickly grabbed your calf firmly, silently telling you to calm the fuck down.

You whispered a sorry to him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to hide your excitement. The blue glow faded and was replaced by a rapid snapping sound that was eerily similar to that of a branch breaking. You look to Jimin in panic, hands tightening around the limb you were perched on. He looked back at you coolly, and none of the other members of the party appeared to be disturbed by the noise. Apparently, everything was fine? You cautiously released your clenched muscles and eased the grip of your hands. You looked back up to the Saeni and your draw dropped when you saw Namjoon wink at you before stepping forward and disappearing down the center of the tree.

“There are certain trees whose roots connect between Earth and Illain. This is one of them. Yoongi can use it to form a bridge of sorts that we can travel through. The bridge just happens to be straight down the middle of the tree itself,” Jimin explained beneath you.

“Whoa… Hey, so Yoongi is Mr. Sparkle Hands?”

“Er. Uh. Yes. Yoongi has the sparkle hands.”

“Thank you for the show Mr. Sparkle Hands!” You called up to the Saeni, who shot you a withering look.

As you patiently waited for your turn to travel through the tree bridge, you swung your legs in the air as you watched the other warriors jump down one after the other.

Hell, this is tons better than a muddy rabbit hole. Take that Alice.

After a couple of minutes, it was just you, Jimin, and Yoongi left at the top of the tree. You heaved yourself up the last few limbs until you were next to Yoongi and peered down at the hole he had opened. It looked like someone has taken a giant drill to the oak, as the innards of the bridge still looked like plain, old wood.

Straightening out, you smiled brightly at the mint-haired male. His petal pink eyes gave you a judgmental glance before looking away, so you were left smiling at his bone ear piercings instead of his face. Undeterred, you gave the earrings a good wink as if they had feelings before you let out a tinkling laugh at the Saeni’s actions.

Jimin climbed up behind you and leaned over your shoulder to gaze at the hole.

“Aww Yoongi. You’re always so thoughtful.” Jimin gave him an appreciative look.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the Saeni grumbled before leaping down the hole himself.

“What was that about?” You asked Jimin.

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he dismissed, “Look there are some very convenient grooves in the wood on this side, so you can climb down instead of jumping like a maniac.”

“You say maniac as if you’re not about to do the same thing.” You raised a knowing eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, yeah. You know I love a good adrenaline rush. Just get your ass climbing down already.”

While it certainly looked badass, you were in no place to break your leg, or worse, by jumping down to who knows where. Hence, you heeded your friend’s advice and decided on the more practical route. You took a look at the sky and leaves and whispered a goodbye before starting your descent. You made your way down, down, down. Minutes passed, and it became harder to see where to place your hands and feet. The entrance only a small circle far above your head, meaning there was basically zero light at your current position. You began relying on your sense of touch rather than sight, praying that you wouldn’t miss a groove and plummet. It’s an interesting thought: thinking about dying inside of a tree. Which would absolutely blow because the adventure hadn’t even truly begun. Plus, the dying part itself would be a real Debbie Downer on your day.

To whatever higher power is out there, please don’t let me die inside of a damn tree trunk.

“Don’t fret little scorja, you’re not going to die.” A deep, masculine voice echoed up to you.

Shit. Did you say that out loud? You winced with embarrassment, your body briefly locking up before your legs found the next step and kept moving. You couldn’t see anything at this point and you were glad that you did not fear the dark because you don’t think you could have even twitched a muscle if you did. Continuing your descent, you lowered your body until a hand lightly touched your ankle. The unsuspected contact caused you to let out a soft yelp.

“It’s alright. You just have a few more steps to go.” The same deep voice from before comforted you.

A few grooves later, strong hands gripped your waist and eased you onto solid ground.

“Um… thank you, whoever you are,” you said.

“You’re very welcome, little scorja.”

One hand moved from your waist to settle on your shoulder, and you felt the presence of whomever held you lean down to say, “My name is Taehyung.”

Seconds later the seventh and final member of the Kiela had his feet on the ground. The sound of his sudden entrance made you jerk away from Taehyung in surprise. The self-proclaimed adrenaline junkie had jumped after all.

“Fucking maniac,” you joked at your friend, who in turn scooped you into a big hug.

Although you giggled at his affection, you had to internally yell at your heart for getting so excited at his touch. Taking a step out of his embrace to resettle yourself, you wondered how he was able to find you so fast. It was pitch black, the entrance like a small star high above you and you couldn’t see a damned thing. However, everyone else seemed to get around just fine.

“So, do you guys have night vision or something?”

An unknown voice, one that you strongly suspected to be Jungkook’s, replied, “What? The little human can’t see in the dark? What a shame.”

You rolled your eyes, hoping that his “superior” vision allowed him to see it.

“Kookieeee,” Taehyung whined beside you, “why are you being so mean?”

Kookie?

There was a noise that suspiciously sounded like someone had just gotten smacked upside the head. You would bet some money and your next bag french fries (you know when you think you’re all out and huzzah! there’s still more at the bottom of the bag) that one, precious Kookie was on the receiving end.

“Ya! Where are your manners!? I didn’t raise you like this!” A voice shouted.

Jungkook only growled in response.

“Seriously Kook, you need to stop. You’re acting like a child,” another voice said sternly. Namjoon maybe?

With that, his growl turned into a pouty groan. “Hyung!”

Um… why is speaking Korean all of the sudden?

“I teach them a few basic words every summer,” Jimin informed you after sensing your internal question.

“Huh.”

“If you’re all done, can we please get going? The dark is making me tired.” Yet another voice interrupted the situation.

When nobody said anything else, the same voice cursed, “Thank fucking Exia.”

With that, a mint-blue glow lit up the dark and you watched Yoongi crouch down with both hands pointed toward the floor. Several recitations later, another hole was created at your feet. You could see a clear blue sky, thick branches, and fluttering leaves when you curiously tilted up on your tip toes to look through it. You pursed your lips, wondering how the hell you were looking up through the bottom of the floor. You observed as Namjoon got onto his hands and knees and reached out to grab a hold of a tree branch to hoist himself through the hole, or was it down? Or up? You weren’t sure which preposition was correct for the action, but no matter what was right, you were amazed at the process. Once Namjoon was safely settled on a thick branch, the yellow-eyed Saeni reached his hand out to aid the rest of the group in transferring over to the other side.

After you popped out of the hole like a newborn baby, you noticed that you recognized the layout of wooden limbs. You realized that the tree you were on was identical to the one of Earth. The second thing you realized was how sweet and fresh the air smelled. Jimin had mentioned how Illain was more nature than buildings, and you could immediately appreciate the difference that made to the air quality. You continued deeply breathing in the glorious air as you scrambled down the tree to the earthy ground to wait for Jimin to emerge from the tree bridge.

Once everyone had their feet on the dirt, Namjoon gave the order to start moving. Jimin made sure you were doing okay before jogging to catch up and walk with the leader. You mentally cursed your chickpea brain because you still had no idea where you were headed or why the Saeni needed Jimin. You had literally forgotten to ask one of the most important things.

It’s okay chickpea brain, I’m sure you’ll have the chance to ask at some point.

A male came up beside you as you walked. When he reached your side, he flipped off his hood and revealed a bright face with silvery white hair and light brown eyes. He moved with grace, easily evading the natural obstructions in his way. The fluidity of his movements reminded you of something, but you couldn’t put your finger on what. You were trying to rack your chickpea brain for graceful creatures in an effort to pinpoint what it was, when you caught sight of Jimin in front of you. His dancer’s body weaving around trees and fallen logs.

That’s what it is!

The male beside you had the grace of a dancer. You momentarily felt like a walnut since you hadn’t realized it immediately even though you, too, were a dancer, but the thought fled your mind when he spoke.

“You’ve got a pair of gojcha, girl. Going after Jungkook like that.”

You kept your stride but gave him a side glace. His huge smile hit you in the face and caught you off guard, as did his prominent dimples. Although you didn’t know him at all, you go the feeling that he was a very warm and genuine person. That smile would be a damn waste if he weren’t. As the male turned to face forward again, you caught the glint of a single metal earring dangling from his ear. They all liked their piercings, huh? You couldn’t lie and say that it looked bad on him, because good lord, it suited him well. The piercings suited all of them well. Or, you assumed all of them since you had yet to meet the sixth and final full Saeni of the group. Shit… was every Saeni attractive like them? You didn’t know if you could mentally, or physically, handle that.

Peeking another look at him, you saw that he did not carry a sword, but had knives and daggers strapped to almost every accessible inch of his body. Harnesses crossed this way and that to carry them all. In all honesty, it was super hardcore and even borderline NSFW. Basically, it was a fantasy come to life wrapped in one, hot male package for anyone with a knife and BDSM kink. He removed a small, thin blade from its home on his arm and began flipping it around his hand, causing your face to lose color. You didn’t like the thought of pissing this guy off, his nimble movements hinting at his impressive skill with the weapon. But you relaxed when you looked back up to his dimpled smile again.

Damn, his outfit seriously contrasts with his sweet and pretty face. You noted before replying to his comment.

“Well, something’s telling me that his whole show with the dagger is just because he’s, uh, lacking, in other areas.” You let out a laugh. “My leg wasn’t too impressed with Kookie’s lil Biscoff yesterday.”

The male began hacking as he tried to stifle his laughter. Shoulders shaking even harder when the two of you saw Jungkook give you a scowl. You responded with a handsome middle finger, which just riled him up further, causing him to stalk over to you. You were surprised he recognized the gesture and was in the middle of wondering if Jimin taught them the meaning of it when Jungkook stuck his face in yours.

“You don’t get to call me that,” he snarled.

Without a hint of remorse, you replied, “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep my boundaries. I’ll just stick with Coco from here on out.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Coco?”

“Your hair cut makes your head look like a damn coconut, but Coconut Head takes too long to say so… Coco.” You sent out a puff of air to rustle the hair on his forehead to really drive your point home.

The Saeni you had been talking to grabbed Jungkook around the waist as he lunged for you. The scene made the entire group stop and look back at the commotion. Jimin called the furious Jungkook up to him and sent you and apologetic face. Waving it off, you looked back at the Saeni next to you who struggled to maintain a somewhat decent composure.

“Aish. I’m sorry about him. He gets shy around newcomers and forgets how to act properly. Also, I have no clue what a ‘Biscoff’ is, but… I can get what you’re referring to.”

“You call that shy?” You skeptically raised a brow.

He let out a snort before finally gathering himself together. Quieter now, he traced a thumb down the center of his chest toward his stomach, his amber eyes flashing with amusement.

“My name’s Hoseok and well, whatever he may be lacking, it sure isn’t in fighting. He may be our maknae, but he’s our best, and not just out of us,” he indicated to the others, “but in the entire Saeni ranks too. Nobody can beat him.”

“Not for the lack of trying, Hobi.” The grey-headed warrior with the headband from yesterday came over and threw an arm around Hoseok’s shoulders. “Though you did get a good hit in there, little scorja.”

“Taehyung?” You slowly questioned, wondering if it was the same male from inside the tree since he used the same name for you that that male had.

He grinned at you and did the same motion Hoseok had done moments earlier. Thumb traced down the center of his chest. It must be their version of a handshake or wave.

“You can just call me Tae like the rest of the guys do!”

“Tae. Okay. So, you can speak English sometimes?”

“You’re damn right, little scorja. Just like how you’re speaking my language now.”

“Scorja, what does that mean? You keep calling me that.”

It was Hoseok who spoke, “Scorjas are flowers that grow on a vine. Sturdy plants and one of the most beautiful in Illain. They have an innate ability to sense who you are as a person and how pure your intentions are. If your soul pleases the scorja, it will do you no harm. If it does not, then the flower secretes a poison that can cause death if not treated. Not everyone is able to pass the test and safely touch them.”

“Beautiful and gentle until someone tries to mess with it, just like you,” Tae added.

You felt your checks grow warm at his comment and you held your face in your hands to hide any evidence that his words affected you.

“But you don’t know me. I may turn out to be rude and manipulative,” you said with a teasing lilt.

Both males looked at you with fond smiles, like they did, in fact, know you. Which was downright crazy.

“Jimin talks about you a lot when he’s here. What you’re like and how much he misses you. So, in a way, we do know you, little scorja. Beautiful, gentle, and just a tad bit ferocious. The name fits…”

“So, the name stays,” Hoseok finished, dimples emerging again.

Your eyes went wide, and you nearly tripped over the root you were stepping over.

Jimin talks about me?

You and Jimin were obviously great friends, but the fact that he shared you with these people shocked you. These people who he described as his brothers. He shared you with his Kiela, those he considered to be closer than family. Even though you had no idea that they had existed, he still wanted them to know about you. You were that special to him.

Your eyes began to get misty and you quickly blinked to keep the tears at bay. You hummed at the males to acknowledge their words, but you couldn’t look at them. Not when your eyes were locked onto a certain half-human, half-Saeni as he walked ahead of you, oblivious to your soft eyes on his back.

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[kiara-carrera]

you and me

pairing(s): brooke holliday x sweet pea, dakota chambers x fangs fogarty (credit to @starkdnvers for dakota) word count: 9,351 summary: when brooke’s certain that she’s fucked up her entire life (and by extension, the life of her boyfriend as well), there’s only one person she can turn to. warning(s): pregnancy, swearing, mentions of sex, brief mention of abortion author’s note: the adult!challiday, accidental pregnancy au that basically no one but me and joey asked for. it’s chaotically long for something i thought was going to be very short, but here we are.

To say that Brooke Holliday was freaking out was the understatement of the century.

She was late. She was fucking late. She’d never been late in her life, her period had always been annoyingly regular, always showing up at the most inopportune times. But this month, it had been late a day. And then a day turned into two and two turned into a week and a week became two and two turned into Brooke paling at the sight of her phone’s calendar, doing the mental math. There was no other conclusion besides the fact that she was late.

It was that heart-stopping reaction that had sent her running off to the corner store, avoiding the curious and somewhat pitying stare of the cashier as she had shoved a handful of bills in exchange for the test.

Test. She was buying a pregnancy test. She was going to see either a negative or a positive result. Two little pink lines could change her entire life. She was trying to stay positive, but how could she? Luck wouldn’t be on her side in this regard. She’d never been lucky, that much was clear to her considering she grew up in Riverdale of all places. Things had calmed down since high school had ended, but that didn’t mean luck was in a place like this and it didn’t mean luck would be with her.

There had never been happily ever afters in a town that had once been plagued by so much needless death and she was certain there would be no starting with that now.

Regardless of all of that, she bought the test, forking over the money and returning home with it. She had followed the instructions, set a timer on her phone, and had sat on her bathroom floor with tears that threatened to fall but never broke past her waterline. She was panicking and that could be told simply from observing her. The normally put together blonde was sat on her bathroom floor, on the verge of tears, fingers tangled in her hands as she tried to go through her options.

What was she supposed to do if it was positive? Positive. A positive pregnancy test. A potential baby on the horizon. She was barely twenty-five. She was out of school and had a sort of decent-paying job, but she wasn’t even sure she when she wanted kids, let alone to have one right now. She had always pictured having kids somewhere down the road, but when she well past her twenties. Maybe at thirty-two, that seemed like a nice age to have a kid. But twenty-four? She still barely knew how to file her taxes and she was potentially carrying another life in her?

And Sweet Pea. How the fuck was she supposed to tell Sweet Pea if she was pregnant? How would that conversation even start? Like, hey, just an FYI, you knocked me up and my reproductive organs have basically screwed up our entire lives. She didn’t even know if he thought about kids at all, let alone with her. They’d been together for years, but the baby conversation had never come up. Nothing excessively long term, nothing permanent had been discussed between the two of them.

They were just going with the flow. They weren’t like their best friends, who had gotten married during the middle of college and had just had a baby themselves. They weren’t like Dakota and Fangs. All Brooke and Sweet Pea knew about their relationship was that they loved each other and that they loved being together. But that wasn’t much of a permanent declaration of anything…a baby would be.

Fuck. She released her hair, instead opting to put her head in her hands, burying her face into the fabric of her sweater’s sleeves.

As she sat there on her bathroom floor, she tried to think about how this happened. They’d always been safe, ever since that very first time. They’d been together since high school and had been sexually active since around that time as well. But they’d always used condoms. Deep down, she knew that condoms weren’t 100% effective, but from almost seventeen until now, she’d never had a scare. She was always careful, they were always careful.

Unless…shit. There had been one instance not that long ago where there’d been a mishap with the condom, but both of them had written it off as nothing to worry about. She had written it off as nothing to worry about.

And now? Now there was something to worry about. Fuck.

Now…now they were screwed—no, potentially screwed, she told herself. She nodded to herself a few times as she repeated this in her head, trying to convince herself of this fact. There was no certainty yet. The timer on her phone hadn’t gone off yet. Maybe her body just decided to fuck around and be late this month. An irregular period would be the heaven-sent blessing of the century.

But again, when had luck ever been on her side?

The timer went off then, startling her slightly. She wiped at her eyes, drying up the tears that she refused to let fall. Reaching behind her blindly, she slipped her phone off of the closed toilet lid, thumbing the alarm off. Brooke paused as she did that, stopping to stare at her lock screen for a moment.

The picture was old, haven been taken the day of her high school graduation. But despite the time difference, it was still one of the best photos that Brooke had. She was stood next to Sweet Pea, both dressed in their standard Riverdale High issue blue caps and gowns, beaming at the camera. Brooke could still remember Sweet Pea protesting taking a picture when she handed Vivian Chambers (Dakota’s mother and the only true maternal figure that Brooke had ever known) her phone to take the shot. He had continued to complain up until Brooke beamed up at him with her big blue eyes, batting her lashes at him. He had always been a sucker for that.

And so, the picture had been taken and Brooke had kept it as her lock screen throughout all those years. Normally, looking at it brought her a sense of peace. But right now, looking at it made her feel sick to her stomach.

She set the phone face down on the tiled floor, taking a deep breath. It was shaky upon exhale as she stood, eyes squeezed shut as she centered herself in front of the sink where the test was laid out for viewing.

It felt like an eternity before she allowed her eyes to open. She took another breath, trying her best to ground herself, even if for a moment. She glanced down, eyes scanning the results.

A hushed, barely audible oh was the only thing she let slip from her lips. No other words seemed like they could truly encapsulate what she was feeling at that moment. Where words didn’t work, tears did. For the first time that morning, Brooke Holliday let her tears fall, a choked sob slipping from her lips as she allowed herself to sink back to the floor of the bathroom.

On the sink, a pregnancy test sat, baring two pink lines.

✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽

Brooke Holliday was freaking out. And when she freaked out, there was only one person she knew she could turn to.

After allowing herself to cry on the floor for fifteen minutes, whether it had been for herself, for Sweet Pea, or maybe for some future path that was now gated off to her, she had tried pulling herself together. She had wiped at her eyes again, harshly rubbing off the remnants of her mascara with it. Normally bright, blue eyes were bloodshot and puffy, tear tracks traced down the skin of her cheeks. But she had ignored those, opting for marching out of the bathroom. With her boyfriend at the garage for the next couple of hours, so it allowed her to roam around without the worry of running into him and having him question the visible remainder of her cry or try to deduce what she had shoved into her purse. Normally, she loathed the days where their days off didn’t line up, more than wanting to curl up in bed next to him for hours.

But today, it felt like the smallest possible silver lining that she could have ever been granted. And so, she had made her way to the door, had slipped on her jacket and grabbed her bag, and locked the door to her shared home behind her.

There was only one place she could go, she knew this as clearly as she knew that grass was green, skies were blue, and Pop’s shakes were one of the few good things about her hometown. In all situations, Dakota Chambers—sorry, Fogarty now technically, even if Sweet Pea solely referred to her as Chambers to this day—was the one person that could make sense of all of this.

The story of Brooke and Dakota wasn’t necessarily a lengthy one timeline-wise, but it was a story that filled with so many defining moments that it cemented the girls’ places as each other’s best friend. Dakota was like the sister that Brooke had never had. Her family had taken her in all those years ago when her mother had fallen through as a reliable parent. Dakota would be able to ground her, to calm her down. Hopefully.

The early winter air was bitter as Brooke made her way into the lobby of the apartment building that the Fogarty’s lived in. She hugged herself a little tighter as she crossed the threshold, even though a blast of warm air hit her the second she was safely inside. Honestly, if anything, she was more than likely holding herself tightly so that she didn’t fall apart.

A few flights of stairs later, Brooke stood in front of Dakota and Fangs’s door, rapping her knuckles on it quickly. There were only a few moments of pause before a calming voice was calling out that they were coming and then within seconds the door was opening.

Dak stood on the other side of the doorway, with her signature smile on her face and a baby on her hip. Brooke tried to smile at the sight of little Nora Rose, especially when her little face brightened in recognition of her Auntie Brooke, but it was hollow at best. Dak’s warm eyes fell confused at the sight of her less than happy best friend on her doorstep.

A little cautiously, she spoke. “Brooke? Is everything okay?”

Apparently, that was all it took for Brooke to lose any fragment of composure that she may have had.

Voice panicked, the blonde exclaimed, “We have a situation!”

Okay, maybe we wasn’t the right term. Dakota had no involvement with Brooke and Pea’s sex life nor the unknown day which their sex life led to this. But to be fair, Brooke always referred to everything as a we situation when it came to Dakota. They were a package deal, a matching set. From sophomore year till now, they had gone through so many different situations together that not calling this situation a we situation just felt wrong.

Dakota furrowed her brow, her confusion increasing by tenfold. “We do? What’s going on?”

What’s going on? That was a fairly reasonable question. So, naturally, it made Brooke clam up slightly. She frowned, running a hand through her hair as her best friend eyed her worriedly. Nora, ever the exuberant child, didn’t seem to notice the shift in the mood of the doorway, continuing to make grabby hands for her pseudo-aunt. The sight alone made a wave of tears flood Brooke’s eyes. In several months, there could be another baby around, but when it eventually made grabby hands at Brooke, it wouldn’t be for the comfort of an aunt. It would be for the touch of a mother.

Mother. Her. Brooke fucking Holliday, a mother. Those words didn’t seem to string together right. Motherhood looked great on Dak, but Brooke? It was hard to imagine. It was a concept that Brooke couldn’t even fathom, even though the plastic stick in her bag were telling her otherwise.

Dak spoke again, stepping closer to rest a gentle hand on her best friend’s arm. “Brooke?”

“I’m late, Dak,” Brooke admitted quietly. “I’m late.”

Dak, still ever the wide-eyed, innocent little church girl, stared at her best friend oddly. “For an appointment?”

Brooke groaned. “My period, Dak. I’m over two weeks late. I’ve never been this late in my life.”

“Oh,” Dak mumbled offhandedly, the information not truly sinking in. And then, once the realization kicked in, she sucked in a breath. “Oh. Brooke…are you…?” She trailed off, unable to find the words.

Voice thick with emotion, mostly just sadness and fear, Brooke said, “Unless the test I took is lying, yeah. Yeah, I am.”

She refused to say the word out loud. Pregnant. It was swirling around her head, battering off every corner of her brain like a pinball gone rogue, but she had yet to let it fall from her lips. Saying it out loud made it real and she was afraid. Making it real would be too much right now, especially when she had no idea what she was doing. Or feeling. Or hell, even thinking.

A part of Dakota wanted to smile. Her best friend was having a baby, that was such a wonderful thing. When she had found out about Nora, she and Fangs had been over the moon. The fact that her friend, a person she considered a second sister, was pregnant was exciting. But something on Brooke’s face told her that she was the only one who thought so.

“Are you not happy?” Dakota asked softly, rubbing Brooke’s arm. She adjusted the grip she had on Nora, a happy giggle pealing from the babbling child’s mouth.

“I just…I’m freaking the hell out, Dak. I mean, what the hell am I going to do? We didn’t plan this, it just happened and now it’s happening and I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do!”

Dak’s gaze softened at the blonde’s rant, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “Have you told Sweet Pea?”

At the mention of her boyfriend, Brooke looked like she wanted to vomit. She shook her head no rapidly, blonde hair flying. “I-I can’t, I can’t do that. I haven’t even processed this fully, I came over here the second I stopped sobbing on the floor like a two-year-old. I…Dak, I just fucked up both of our lives. I don’t even know if he wants kids and I just went and got us pregnant!”

Dak squeezed Brooke’s arm then, shaking her head at her. “Hey, hey. Calm down, it’s going to be okay, we’ll figure everything out. Do you want some tea?”

Feeling somewhat like a distressed teenager with a fresh round of tears starting to burn behind her eyes, Brooke nodded as Dakota let her arm go, moving to wrap her arms around her again. The brunette stepped back and then aside to let her in before shutting the door behind them.

Dak led Brooke to the kitchen, getting her to sit before mumbling to give her a quick second. In the span of a few minutes, Dak disappeared into the apartment, easily finding her husband. Nora was quickly switched off into Fangs’s arms, who smiled lovingly at the sight of his two girls.

“How are my favorite girls?” he questioned, grinning brightly at his daughter pressing an exaggeratedly loud kiss on the baby’s face which caused Nora to giggle.

Dak smiled at him softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He beamed, the usual reaction he had to the woman in front of him, even after all these years. “Do you think you and Nora could stay in here for a little while?” she questioned.

Fangs’s happy gaze fell quickly, both at seeing Dakota’s distressed expression and at her request to stay out of the kitchen with Nora. “Is there a reason I’m being confined to the bedroom?”

“Brooke’s over,” Dakota replied simply, which only seemed to raise more questions than it answered.

“Is she okay?” Fangs questioned, brow knitting together in confusion. “She and Pea didn’t have another fight did they?”

Dak shook her head gently, giving her husband another small smile. “We’re just having girl talk and I think privacy is best,” she told him, before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

And with that, Fangs was on board with staying in their bedroom with their little miracle.

Moments later, Dak was returning to Brooke, finding the blonde still sat at the kitchen table. She had her phone out, staring intently at the screen. Dak wasn’t sure what she was looking at, but she didn’t question what Brooke was doing. Instead, she opted to silently move around the kitchen, setting out to make the tea.

Minutes later, two steaming mugs were set on the table and a chair next to Brooke was pulled out and filled. Dakota pushed one of the mugs towards her friend, taking the other for herself. The brunette drew the mug back, taking a sip, contemplating her next words. How does one even begin to console a pregnant woman that might not even want to be pregnant?

She didn’t have to think much of an opening line, though, because Brooke was already speaking. “I don’t know how this happened,” she mumbled, taking a sip from her drink. “We have one tiny little accident. One. How is this happening?”

“Stuff like this happens all the time, Brooke,” Dakota replies tentatively.

Brooke didn’t answer for a moment. She knew Dak was right. People got pregnant all the time, whether they wanted to or not. The circle of life was a never-ending amalgamation of happy days and fuck yous. Brooke was certain her experience was the latter. In the grand scheme of things, this all felt like a sick joke. Like someone was playing a prank on her.

She groaned, letting her head fall forehead to gently rest on the tabletop. “What am I gonna do, Dak? Seriously? Yesterday I was deciding what kind of bagels I wanted to buy, cinnamon raisin or blueberry—spoiler alert I got both because I have zero impulse control—and now I have to think about having…having…”

“A baby,” Dakota supplied, figuring maybe a rip the band-aid off quickly approach would work best in this situation.

Brooke lifted her head, face paling again. “A baby,” she mumbled. And then her eyes filled with panic and she was crying out in frustration. “How the hell am I supposed to have a baby? This wasn’t apart of the plan!”

“What was the plan?” Dakota asked curiously.

“There wasn’t one!” Brooked cried out. “This wasn’t supposed to happen! Sweets and I aren’t you and Fangs, Dak. We’re not married, we didn’t name our children together after like, five months of dating—”

“We didn’t do that,” Dakota interjected, eyes wide and a minor blush smattering her cheeks. Her and Fangs weren’t that certain they were each other’s forever that early on.

“—How am I supposed to even bring this up to him? We’ve never even talked about longterm and now this is happening? What the fuck do I even say to him? Do I just go hey I just fucked up our lives by going and getting a fucking future child growing in my uterus? Think that’ll work? Does that sound like a good conversation starter?”

She said it wryly, bitterness flooding her tone. It was the same question she had posed to herself back at home, but back then there had been no one to go wide-eyed and look mildly appalled with her suggestion. But that’s where Dak came in.

At her friend’s statement, Dak’s eyebrows raised considerably before she was reaching out to cover Brooke’s hand with her own. “You didn’t mess up Brooke, okay? Being pregnant when you’re not planning for it is scary, it is. But you didn’t mess up, I can promise you that.”

Sadly, Brooke squeezed her eyes tightly, as if to hold back tears. If she let out a small, vulnerable whimper, Dakota didn’t mention it. Quietly, she mumbled, “Then why does it feel like I did?”

Dakota sighed, a knot forming in her stomach for her friend. It was clear as day that this wasn’t what Brooke wanted to happen. She bit her lip again, squeezing Brooke’s hand. There was a question she wanted to ask, one she wasn’t sure how to phrase in a sensitive enough manner. But Brooke was freaking out and it was just something that needed to be asked.

And so, softly, she questioned, “Do you want the baby?”

The question made Brooke visibly balk. Of course, it had been something she had been thinking of the second she realized she was late. Did she want the baby? This wasn’t something she could make an unsure decision on. She couldn’t hedge. This was quite possibly the biggest decision of her life, and it was hanging in the balance right now, mocking her.

She blew out a breath, running her free hand through her hair. “I don’t know? I told you, we didn’t plan this, we didn’t talk about it.”

“Okay, but what about how you feel about having a baby?”

Brooke looked at Dakota oddly. “I just told you?” she replied, though her answer sounded more like a question itself.

“You talked about you and Sweet Pea. But I asked how you feel about all of this. If you want this baby,” Dakota told her pointedly, but there was still an air of kindness. Dakota wasn’t trying to be rude, just trying to get a point across. “We can talk about everything, we can, but before you talk to him, you should decide if you want the baby or not. Then we can talk about Sweet Pea.”

The Holliday woman paused. In actuality, it made sense to think about what she wanted. She was the one who would deal with the majority of this, she would be the one who would potentially be carrying this pregnancy, not him. There were things specific to Brooke that would need to be thought out, things that didn’t necessarily include her boyfriend. And the biggest question indeed was the one that Dakota had posed.

Taking another sip of her tea, Brooke gave Dakota a half-hearted shrug. “I mean, maybe? Down the road I always assumed I might end up with a kid…but what if I just fuck it up? Clearly parenting doesn’t run well in my family.”

The statement was a dig at Brooke’s mother and mother alone. Her father had never been involved in her life, it had been Shannon who had taught Brooke that sometimes families sucked. She had gotten lucky in her junior year when Vivian Chambers had taken her in, when Dakota’s family had shown her the familial love she had been missing most of her life. Yet that didn’t negate the fact that Brooke had always been mildly afraid of becoming just like her mother.

Dakota gave Brooke a sigh. “Brooke, you’re not going to…” The brunette trailed off for a moment, looking mildly uncomfortable. “You’re not going to fuck it up.”

Brooke’s eyes went wide as she interjected, “Did you just say fuck? Jesus Christ, what is this, your second time?”

Dakota frowned at the obvious jab about her vocabulary which was far less colorful than the ones of her friends and husband. “Be quiet, I was only repeating what you said. And you’re not going to do anything wrong, you’d be an amazing mother. You’ve been such a good aunt to Nora every time you’ve babysat.”

“That’s not exactly the same thing,” Brooke pointed out. “I get to give Nora back at the end of the day when I watch her.”

“Okay,” Dak relented, thinking for a moment. “Look, think of it this way. Parenting is a learning curve. No one’s perfect at it, not even me and Fangs. Not my parents. Not anyone’s parents. The most important thing is that you want your child, that you love them, and that you’re willing to try for them.”

Try. Brooke figured this was the thing that her mother was missing. The will to try for her child. She wondered if she was different from Shannon in that regard. She hoped she was. Brooke had always had a capacity for love that was far greater than her mother’s, the older woman more akin to an unforgiving winter storm than a warm and caring presence.

At the end of the day, Brooke knew deep in her heart that her mother had never actually wanted a child…maybe at first. But once she was born? No, too much had gone wrong for Shannon Holliday by then. From the time of conception to birth, her entire world had spun on its axis far too rapidly, had changed her. Had hardened her. By then, she hadn’t really wanted Brooke.

But Brooke…Brooke could be different. And so, she was brought back to Dakota’s original question. Did she want a baby, this baby? Her baby.

A baby. A whole new life that she could bring into the world. This wasn’t a situation to take lightly, it wasn’t something that she could just sweep under the rug and hope it would go away.

There was a terrifying side to this. She’d be a mom. She’d be responsible for an entire person. The thought made her skin crawl. How the fuck was she meant to be a mom now? Again, her mom hadn’t been the greatest. Cold. Detached. The kind of woman who kicked her own daughter out, the kind of woman who ruined her entire relationship with her only child based on things that had happened well into the past. What if Brooke did become like Shannon? What if she fucked this kid up like Shannon fucked her up? She couldn’t handle that kind of responsibility.

But…there was also a side to it that didn’t scare a part of her as much as she thought it should. Again, she wasn’t picturing being a mom now. She pictured that if she ever was to have a child, it would be later down the road. But the thing was, Brooke loved Sweet Pea and as much as she had never admitted it out loud to anyone, let alone Sweet Pea himself, she had always imagined that particular future with him. She imagined every future with him. They may not have discussed long-term, but she knew there wasn’t anything else she wanted. He was it for her.

And because of that, there was a small part of her—one that was small, yet battling strongly against her unbridled fear—that tried to imagine it. A little baby, with tanned skin and a head of dark hair, dark eyes and a familiar smile…well, its created an entirely different response than the one she had figured she would give. Somewhere, there was a tiny part of her that knew if there was even the slightest chance that this child could end up being a little version of the man she had loved since she was seventeen, well that was a whole different ballgame.

She sat there, sipping her drink, mapping out everything in her mind the best that she could. Everything would change drastically, it was up to her whether it was for the better or not. She tried to picture herself, month by month, carrying this child. Feeling the baby kick. Hearing its heartbeat. Doctor appointments, only the beginning of a lifetime of expenses. She pictured holding the baby after the birth, and if she pictured a healthy baby boy that looked far too much like Sweet Pea…well, no one was there to judge her inner thoughts.

Birthdays. Starting school. Little league games or dance recitals or science fairs or whatever the child wanted to do. Scraped knees and tears and happy giggles and family adventures and memories that Brooke herself never got with her mom. She could be the mother she never had. Sweet Pea could be the parent that he never had. Brooke tried to imagine it, her whole life with him and the baby that she could bring into the world if she chose to.

She knew she had options. She knew some things could be done, measures that could be taken that could undo what had happened. Choices. A world of choices that could—no, would change everything. She knew, at the end of the day, she had options.

Options that got exactly three seconds of consideration. It made her sick to her stomach thinking about it, even more so than she already was. It was an option that was good for other people, it was an option that everyone should have the right to consider. But Brooke knew that it wasn’t the option she could go with. She couldn’t. She just couldn’t.

She had pictured her possible child. She had imagined her life changing. She had seen for what she wanted it to be, for what it could be. And in a matter of moments, it felt like the world had shifted. She was still terrified to her core. The air of uncertainty was still thick and suffocating around her. It was etched into every facet of her being.

But there was no going back now. How could there be, when she had painted such a future in her head? Brooke Holliday, for the first time since she had realized that she was late, was pretty sure that she wanted this baby. Sweet Pea’s baby. Their baby. If there was a universe where they could be happy forever, with this child, she wanted it. She wanted it so fucking badly, despite never having given it any thought before this day.

Alarm slammed into her all once, the door to every panicked thought flying off its hinges at her internal admittance. While it was important that she be on board with this pregnancy, it didn’t necessarily mean Sweet Pea would. Doubt began to cloud her mind, hitting her full force as she tried to realize what this could mean for them.

What if this changed not only everything with their lives but amongst them as well?

Her eyes fell shut to try and ward off the burgeoning tears that were beginning to form and she leaned back in her chair, taking a deep breath. A hand once again reached up to tangle itself in her hair as she tried to figure how she’d gone from seeing this as the end of everything to wanting this.

“Brooke?” Dak asked suddenly, making the blonde realize she had been silent for a long while.  Her eyes flew up, locking with those of her best friend, who looked concerned. “Did you hear me?”

“Oh, um, no. Sorry, I was just…thinking about everything,” Brooke replied, her hand slipping from her hair to run across her face. “Everything’s going to change isn’t it?”

Dakota didn’t reply for a moment. She stared at Brooke, eyes flitting across her features, the gears in her head spinning. It felt like she was staring right through her, right into her mind. Once upon a time, Brooke had been able to read Dakota like an open book, and for once, it seemed as if Dakota was returning the favor. She could see the wave of emotions that Brooke was enduring in an instant, and she pursed her lips together.

So instead of answering the question that Brooke had posed, she gave one of her own.

“You want to keep it, don’t you?”

“…I think I do.” It was no louder than a whisper, but it was spoken all the same.

And like a dam bursting, the tears burned behind her eyes and pooled amongst her lashes began streaming down Brooke’s face. Dakota was beside her in an instant, her chair screeching against the floor as she scooted over to her, wrapping her in a tight embrace. Brooke cried against Dakota’s shoulders, again for herself, for Sweet Pea, and for some future path that was now gated off to her with her newfound want.

“It’s okay,” Dakota whispered, the words spoken against the blonde’s hair. “It’s going to be okay, Brooke, I promise. Everything will work out.”

“I’m fucking terrified, Dak,” Brooke whimpered in between two choked sobs. Her earlier worries came back full force, spilling out of her mouth. “I can’t do this without him, but what if this ruins everything? What if I’m right and I screwed up his entire life?”

Dakota had had enough. Pulling back, she placed both hands on Brooke’s shoulders, looking the girl dead in the eye. Dakota can see her fear clear as day, a wretched thing seeping into the tears that gloss over her eyes. “Brooke, listen to me. You didn’t screw up his life, stop saying that! Having a baby is a blessing and if he doesn’t realize that, well then that’s his loss.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” Dakota interrupted. “You don’t know how he feels about this, okay? You don’t, because you’ve never talked about it. You just need to talk to him, Brooke. I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear the news! He loves you, okay? He loves you so much and having a baby with you should make him the happiest man on the planet.”

A part of Brooke knew this was true. He did love her, as much as she loved him. There had been trials and tribulations along the way, just like there were for every relationship, but they had gotten through them. She had seen past what everyone else had, had seen him for who he truly was. And in return, he had done the same for her. She had loved him wholeheartedly since she had been seventeen and there had never been a doubt in her mind that he loved her just as much since then.

And yet, one immense and paralyzing fear still filled her. One she let slip through her lips in a broken whisper. “…What if he leaves?”

The moment the words left her lips, she knew she wasn’t right. He wouldn’t just leave. He thrived on loyalty, had that trait coursing through him immensely. Brooke had always admired that about him. Once you got close to Sweet Pea, once he let you see past the bloodied knuckles and the switchblades and the anger, he was loyal to you until you gave him a reason not to be. He wouldn’t just up and leave her, he wouldn’t leave her alone. Not now.

She knew this. And Dakota knew it, too. Knew that her husband’s best friend was quite possibly the best person for her best friend. But she still found herself answering the brokenhearted question. “…Then he’s not the one for you.”

Truly, Brooke knew she was right. If Sweet Pea did want to leave once she revealed the pregnancy to him, then that just meant that they weren’t right for each other. She knew that the chances of that happening were slim to none, but it still caused fear to ache in her bones. Fear that he was the best she was ever going to get. Fear that she was going to raise a child alone, just like her mother.

“I don’t know what the fuck I’ll do if he’s not,” Brooke mumbled, a whimper escaping her lips.

She felt like a blubbering two-year-old as Dakota once again brought her into her arms. The brunette was shushing her, repetitions of it’s going to be okay falling from her lips at a steady rate. The more she felt Brooke shake from her tears, the tighter she held her. She hadn’t seen the blonde fall apart like this in a long time. It was jarring and it felt like someone was tugging harshly on Dakota’s heartstrings as she heard every hiccup and sob and sniffle.

As the two friends clung to each other in the small kitchen of the Fogarty’s apartment, Dakota let a fierce promise fall from her lips. “We can figure that out together, okay? You and me.”

You and me. That’s the way it had always been for them. Brooke held onto her a little tighter.

✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽

Despite having been calmed down and less teary-eyed by the time she left the Fogarty’s, Brooke Holliday was still undoubtedly freaking out. She had left the couple’s place well over an hour ago and was finally back in her own home, cuddled up on the couch with a thick blanket. Dakota had left her with multiple promises on top of you and me, including a vow that Sweet Pea would be ecstatic. Dakota didn’t see how he couldn’t be—he was going to have a baby with Brooke. Nothing should make him happier.

Brooke, however, saw things a little differently. While she was trying to maintain hopeful and adamant that he wouldn’t leave her to do this on her own, wouldn’t throw away all of their years together over this, she was still scared shitless.

Her head rested against one of her hands, elbow propped up against the arm of the couch as some mindless reality show played on the television set in the corner. She was staring off into space, eyes fixed on a chip in the wall’s paint. On her lap, her other hand was clutching onto the bright green, slightly matted fur of a small stuffed frog. She’d had since the summer before senior year, from the weekend away that she, Sweet Pea, Dakota, and Fangs had taken. After everything with the Black Hood, the Gargoyle King, the Fizzle Rocks, Tall Boy’s death, the Farm…they had needed to get out of town.

The place they had ended up in for their small vacation had had a carnival that very weekend and the frog in her lap had been won on one of the games at the fair. Sweet Pea had tried for one of the big ones, hoping to win her a giant stuffed animal like Fangs had gotten for Dak. He’d only managed to win one of the small ones, but honestly, Brooke had never beamed brighter. That stuffed frog had stayed with her for the rest of high school, an object of comfort she carried way into early adulthood.

Right now, it just made her wary of what was to come once he came walking through those doors.

She felt like she waited for what was a century. Knowing that she could back out now, couldn’t gloss over everything that had happened earlier. She needed to face this head-on, needed to tell him exactly what was happening. What was going to happen.

In actuality, she didn’t have to wait too long. By the time the second hour of the reality show arrived, the lock on the door to her shared home with Sweet Pea began to make noises, indicative of someone on the other side with a key. Brooke could feel her muscles tense and stiffen and she swore she felt herself stop breathing for a moment. If there wasn’t another life inside of her, she was certain she’d be guzzling a glass of wine from her nerves. Instead, she gripped the plush fabric of her stuffed frog.

The door opened, Sweet Pea slipping through as he did most nights after work. He looked tired, there were grease stains on his hands, and his worn down Serpent jacket sat proudly on his shoulders. Shutting the door behind him, he let out a small yawn before his eyes briefly fell on his girlfriend seated on the couch.

“Hey, princess,” he greeted easily, slipping his jacket on to hang on the hooks by the door before ambling over to the couch to sit down beside her. “How was your—what the fuck happened?”

The second he sat down and really, truly looked at her, he saw it all. The tear tracks on her face, the puffy redness of her eyes, the quiver of her bottom lip. It was evident all over her face and it immediately set off red alarms in his mind.

Crying Brooke and Sweet Pea had never exactly gotten along. Sure, he’d learned how to comfort her when she was upset along the way, but there was nothing more unsettling than watching her cry. It made him deeply uncomfortable, not wanting to see her upset. And so, instantly, his mood went from moderately happy and tired to uncomfortable, concerned, and slightly angered at whoever had possibly made her upset.

When she didn’t answer, a frown etched its way across his lips and he scooted closer to her. Attempting to hold her, his arms began to go out to circle around her, but he stopped when he noticed her tense even further. Brow furrowing, he paused, arms dropping back to his side.

“Brooke?”

A shaky breath escaped her lips and she squeezed the stuffed animal tighter, her eyes squeezing shut for a moment. When she opened them again, she felt like she was going to shatter at the expression on his face. He was undoubtedly concerned, but she could see a glimmer of confusion and maybe even a little bit of hurt that she hadn’t instantly melted into his arms. And she wanted to, God, she wanted to. But she was freaking out and she was sure that there was nothing that he could do to quell the fear in her bones, in her veins, in every ounce of her being.

The silence was deafening. It covered them like a blanket, a growing discomfort in the air as he watched her try to find the words to start this conversation. What was she supposed to say? How was she supposed to phrase this? Were there any right words to start this off?

There was also the fact of the matter that she was terrified of his response. Putting this out there, between them, meant he’d react. And there was nothing more worrisome to her than how he was going to take the news that she was carrying his child, that she’d already decided that this baby was what she wanted.

God, she should have asked for more advice on this during her tea slash cry slash panic session with Dakota.

“Okay, you’re gonna need to say something, princess, because you’re freaking me out,” Sweet Pea told her after another long moment. “Did something happen? Did someone do something to you? Because I swear to God I’ll gladly beat the shit out of anyone who thinks they can—”

“No!” Brooke exclaimed, the sound coming out quickly and loudly. She shook her head frantically, blonde hair fanning out around her. “No one did anything.”

There was a second of pause before he nodded, content with her answer. His eyebrow quirked up before a wry smile covered his lips. “So she speaks.”

A humorless chuckle escaped her lips, sounding slightly wet from all the crying she’d been doing on and off. “So she does. Pea, I…I need to talk to you about something. Something really important.”

He nodded. “Okay, yeah, sure. What’s up, princess?” Sweet Pea slung an around on the back of the couch, resting above her shoulders, but not directly touching her.

She sat silently for a moment, trying to figure out her next words. Brooke had so much she wanted to say, so many things she wanted to convey, but it was like every single word she knew was evading her. Her lips parted and shut a few times, a sure sign of someone who didn’t know what they were going to say.

It was frustrating, not knowing how to get the words out. And it was frustrating, knowing that the P-word was eventually going to be used and it was like her entire vocal system just shut down at the thought of it. She let out an annoyed sigh, staring down at her lap, before deciding to backtrack her starting point, back to where this whole thing had started.

“Pea, do you remember the night after we saw that really shitty movie? And we decided to fool around after?”

His eyes lit up in recognition quickly enough, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I don’t think I’ll be able to forget it after the sounds you were making.”

Despite the situation at hand, Brooke rolled her eyes. Of course that would be the main star of his memory of that night. “No, I’m talking about afterward. When we realized that the condom broke?”

It took a second before he was nodding in remembrance, but Brooke could tell he still hadn’t pieced it together. He was looking at her in confusion, nodding slightly as if to tell her to go on. Brooke tried giving him a look, hoping that she could still convey her meaning even with her bloodshot eyes. But it was to no avail, his eyes didn’t light up in understanding, there was no lightbulb moment here.

And so, frustration and sadness and fear taking over her, she reached under the blanket covering her lap, fishing around until her fingers met cold plastic. A new batch of tears began to pool in her eyes, setting off an alarm in Sweet Pea as he watched her with a careful gaze. Without words, Brooke pulled the object out into view, thrusting the test right into Sweet Pea’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, voice broken.

He gave her an odd look, accepting the little stick that she handed him. The arm behind her head pulled back as the man opted to grip the tiny little stick with both hands. He looked down at it, face scrunching when he realized what it was. And then, Brooke was certain that she could pinpoint the exact second that the world stopped for him.

Once it had become clear what he was holding and what the little lines under the plastic window meant, his face fell slack. His eyes widened, mouth popping open ever so slightly. She could hear him suck in a deep breath.

Brooke wished she knew what he was thinking. She wondered what was the very first thought that ran through his head when he understood what the test meant. Did he have that little moment of oh that she did in the bathroom this morning? Or was his more aligned with an oh fuck moment? Was he excited? Scared? Angry? She didn’t know and she couldn’t tell, his face void of every emotion besides shock.

Brooke wanted to speak, tell him to say something, anything, but she couldn’t bring herself to talk. All she could do was sit there and wait.

“ This…” Sweet Pea started quietly, trailing off, unsure what to say. “Are you…?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“And it’s—”

“If you seriously ask me if it’s yours, I’m going to hit you,” she said, cutting him off with a biting tone. He’d been her first and her only, there was no fucking way it was anyone else’s.

He swallowed thickly, before shaking his head. “I was gonna ask if it was right. That you’re sure? You’re…I mean, how the fuck did this happen?”

His tone wasn’t angry, but his words made her flinch nonetheless. In a small voice, she replied, “I told you already. The condom broke, Pea. We thought it would be fine, but clearly it wasn’t.”

“But that was only one time, I mean, how can one broken condom end up like this?” he questioned her, voice rising ever so slightly.

Her bottom lip quivered a bit before she repeated what Dakota had told her earlier. “Stuff like this happens all the time.”

“Yeah, but…I mean…fuck,” he groaned loudly, slamming the test on the small coffee table so hard Brooke thinks it’s going to crack down the middle. He turned away from her, running a hand through his dark hair for a second before standing and pacing a few steps. Sweet Pea turned back to her, exasperated. “I mean, you’re having my fucking kid because one fucking condom broke?”

To Sweet Pea, it seemed like a reasonable question. How the hell could one tiny little slip up create such a large situation? But to Brooke, it felt like all of her fears were falling into place. He was mad. He was upset with her. They fucked up. They fucked up. This baby was screwing up his life.

She started fiddling with the blanket on her lap, beginning to shake her head at him. Tears were dripping down her cheeks at a steady rate, like tiny little streams against the flushed skin.

Brooke began speaking then, words just falling from her lips without abandon, “Look, I know that we never talked about this, but we can’t do anything about it now, okay? I didn’t ask for this either and I’m sorry, I didn’t want this to happen especially when I don’t even know if you want a family with me or kids at all. I’m sorry. But Pea, please, I can’t do this by myself.”

Sweet Pea moved closer to her, prepared to say something else when her words fully sank in. He froze in his movements. She had said she couldn’t do this by herself. In a way, Brooke was asking him to stay.

I can’t do this by myself.

She thought he was going to leave her.

Within mere moments, the entire vibe of the room had changed. Brooke was still on the couch looking up at him, fear swimming in the tears in her eyes. But Sweet Pea…her words felt like a slap in the face. He visibly recoiled, hurt flooding his features. She thought he was going to leave…why the fuck would she think that?

“Did…did you think I was going to leave?”

Everything in Brooke was screaming to say no. Her heart was screaming no. She knew she didn’t think that, she knew would never in a million years think he would leave her. But the problem was, her head was saying something completely different. While her heart wanted to believe that they would be okay, that this baby was something that would bring them closer together, her head was pragmatical as ever—probably a side effect of being friends with Jughead Jones for so long.

While her heart was holding onto the hope that they’d be okay, her head believed otherwise. Her head was being constricted by fear, forced to see paths that she didn’t want to believe were true. Her head was telling her that, although she loved him, there was never a promise of forever. That anything good can be destroyed in the blink of an eye. And it was for those reasons that her head and her heart were at war.

For when did anyone’s head and heart ever see eye to eye?

Her silence was confirmation enough and again, Sweet Pea felt like she had struck him across the face. His eyes narrowed at her, anger beginning to pulse through him. After everything they’d been through…after everything, this is what she thought of him?

“What, so because both of my parents decided to fuck off, you just figured I’d do the same thing?” he snapped at her, voice bitter and rising with every word.

It wasn’t the first time he’d raised his voice around her, but it was the first time that he wasn’t met with her raising her voice back. They’d had fights before, some nastier than others, but it was never just him shouting into the void, looking like a complete asshole. But this only made Brooke cry harder. A pathetic whimper slipped through her lips as he continued to look at her with a gaze that she hadn’t been on the receiving end since Jughead first ran The Gauntlet.

She hated it. She hated him looking at her like that. It was her fault he was. If she had just said no, if she had just had fucking faith in him, this wouldn’t be happening. Sweets was loyal to a fault, he wouldn’t leave her high and dry like this. They weren’t their parents, they couldn’t be.

Not now, not ever.

When she didn’t answer him, it only seemed to make him that much more mad. And when Sweet Pea got angry, he handled it one of two ways: venom tinged words or blood-tinged violence. His next words to her were spoken with such frustration that it caused Brooke to wince.

“I mean, I know I can be an asshole sometimes, but you actually think I’d just follow in my parents' footsteps? Just leave you and my fucking kid behind? Because newsflash Brooke, your mom was a fucking bitch to you, too. If you’re anything like her, then that kid better be prepared to get kicked out of their fucking house at sixteen!”

“Look, I’m scared, okay?” Brooke yelled out then, her voice wet and the sound akin to a sob. He froze, eyes flitting to her. “I didn’t want this to happen okay, but it did and there’s nothing we can do about it, okay? I’m pregnant. I am and it’s your baby. And I’m having this baby and I’m so afraid of everything that it means. I’m fucking terrified and all I know is I need you with me for this, Sweet Pea, I really fucking need you.”

Her knees dragged up, her arms wrapping around them tightly as she buried her face into the fabric of the blanket. She needed him. She couldn’t do this alone. It didn’t matter if Dakota said they would figure it out. It was a lovely promise, but it wasn’t from the person she wanted to hear it from. She loved Dakota, but it was nothing compared to how fiercely she felt for Sweet Pea. Nothing could be compared to how badly she wanted him for the rest of her life, how badly she wanted them to have this child along for the ride with them.

Brooke heard the floor creak before she felt the couch dip down beside her. Strong arms wrapped around her tightly and she was tugged into his chest, head pressed right up against his heart. Sweet Pea’s grip only seemed to tighten when he could feel her cry against him, feel the wetness of her tears instantly soaking through the fabric of his shirt. In a second, all of the anger he had felt for her moments ago had been shoved backward, concern taking the foreground. Brooke had looked as if she was breaking apart in front of him and that had done him in. He hated her thought process, hated what she assumed, but in the end, his love for her would always outweigh all of that.

They’d figure out everything else later. Not right now. Right now, he’d hold her as long as she needed. Anything to get her to stop crying, to stop shaking in his arms. Fights and discussions and all that other bullshit could wait.

His lips pressed into her hair, kisses pressed firmly against the crown of her head. He felt her struggle against him for a moment, but any concern he felt at that melted away when he felt her arms wrap around his torso as tightly as he held her.

“I need you with me on this,” she mumbled into his chest.

Another kiss was pressed against her head before words were whispered against her hair. Two sentences, eight words. Everything she wanted to hear from him at that moment, in such small words with such large meaning. A promise.

“You and me, princess. It’s you and me.”

[kyunsmaindish]

Entry [2/??]

Note before starting: The game itself has been adapted so that it can’t resemble BTS anymore so please treat all the characters from it as independent from BTS. Also, I will be re-updating my OC’s info since I started writing this again.

  Four doesn’t really like me. At least, I don’t think he does. 

  There’s a few fundamental differences that exist between Four and I. One, he’s a combat unit and I’m not. And yet, despite this, I walk around like I’m hot shit and I know whatever I let fly out of my mouth without restraint probably irritates him. Two, he’s cold for the most part and I’m the opposite. He’s responsible and serious, but whenever we end up on missions together I always end up messing around too much for this liking. He knows I understand the way I’m acting and that I don’t make much of an effort to appeal to his preferences. 

  He protects me on missions because he has to - because that’s the kind of guy he is. He’ll be the first to move to rescue me (and he has, I might add) from a stray bullet whistling through the air or a blade coming my way. 

  So, to put it simply, I’m a pain in the ass he always has to take care of. I’m aware of it enough to feel guilty about it, but I’m not capable enough to pay it back the same way. I can’t use my arms and legs to save him the way he saves me. I can’t protect him the same way he does for me or give him the sensation of being protected when he has my back. Everything is paid back in way that is less than satisfactory for me.

  “Why didn’t you listen to Ten?” Four is quick to get directly to the issue. 

  Even Ten didn’t walk in that pissed off like he did. I had already been chewed up by Ten and their lecture to the point Dr. Park shooed them out before they could get another word in so I could rest without stress. Four is different, though, cause he doesn’t particularly have a care for what Dr. Park has to say. 

  As for me, I’m content with finding the spot on the ceiling interesting than another talking to, but I know if I don’t respond enough this time is going to be even more unpleasant than before. 

  I take a small breath in, the entire side of my body sensing stinging pain that sinks into the muscles. I didn’t pay attention to where the Magician wandered off to in the middle of the mission. The shattering glass and rising smoke masked her presence and all I could think about that time was that the balcony where Four was poised had started coming down. A rushing prey must have looked delicious to her. 

  “Sorry,” I reply softly, closing my eyes. 

  “Sorry doesn’t mean a damn thing now,” He fires back. “Dr. Park says you’ll be out for another week or so. Your team’s down a person because you didn’t listen to your leader.” 

  “Right,” I respond as if I’m agreeing to a fact and not to a scolding. 

  It ticks him off more that I’m being too nonchalant about it. I’m not. I just can’t feel anything right now. Why am I shrinking away? 

  Oh. I let him down. So I don’t feel good. That’s how it is. 

  “You really don’t have anything else you want to say?” 

  I don’t like this.

  “You run around, acting like this is all fun and games and can’t even own up to any of it when shit goes wrong.”

  I hate this actually. 

  “Can you, for once--”

  Something snaps. I’ve pushed my upper body off the medical bed before he can get another word out. Something about my sudden surge of emotions must catch him off guard even if only slightly because he tenses up a little. I can’t tell how I’m looking at him but it must be enough for him to stop speaking. He’s not someone to back down, even if I’m acting this way, so he’s just being kind enough to let me have my outburst before he goes back to doing what he does best when I make a mistake.

  “Shut up, Four! Jesus, just shut up!” I’m yelling at him, shrugging off the pain in my body with all I have. Most of my anger is coming from that rather than anything he did. I’m venting, struggling against how I feel and what I want to say. It’s all coming out wrong. I’m jumbling my words, fumbling around in to look for things to say that aren’t even true or fair. 

  “I disobeyed orders to save your ass that was halfway ready to go splat on the damn ground! So, I’m sorry, okay? I know I should have stayed put instead of trying to engage in combat. I know!” I can’t keep it up anymore and crash back onto the medical bed. 

  “If you know then you should have stayed there,” Four answers as calm as he always does. “Even if I’m in danger. You don’t move. I can take care of myself. I don’t need you coming in to play hero when you can’t even do it, got it?”

  I breathe again. It stings like before but with the way this conversation is going it hurts even more than last time. I’m exhausted from arguing with him like this all the time, so I nod, closing my eyes again and breathing. Dr. Park told me just to breathe to get used to the pain. 

  It’s like always. We’re trying to say the same thing and not understanding one another.

  “Got it.” I concede this time. 

  It’s quiet for a while before the doors to the lab open and the distinct sound of Dr. Park coming and Four leaving hit my ears. I fall asleep before she can ask me any questions. 

  The next time we’re paired up for a mission (and after a few more times where Ten quite literally chucks me around the training facility), I don’t even mutter a single word aside from ‘roger’. Alpha and Beta sometimes collaborate together and sometimes I can see Eight again. Two Sirens are better than one when we’re crashing a huge party. They pair me up with Four because of whatever reason ( ‘It’s to keep away anybody who might get in the way of his shot’ ) and we don’t utter single word to each other as we tiptoe around this place. Everything feels so heavy on both of us.

  The music is too loud. My head is hurting. I don’t want to look at Four too much. What did I say to the people that tried to come in at our vantage point? I don’t know. I can’t remember. Four would remember.

  When I see him in his outfit - decked from head to toe in black armor and the red screen across his eyes - I suddenly realize that I mess around with him too much. He’s poised, ready to do what he has to. He’s cold, but not that cold. But I wish I could see that somewhere different.

  I’m sorry, Four.

  The sound of the gun splits through the festivities of the night. I flinch. I can’t help it.

  “Got ‘em,” Four states, but a silence comes in afterwards. 

  My eyes can see the panic down below. Everyone is moving quickly, tripping and cursing all around while looking for the way out. We have to go. I open my mouth but close it at the sight of him already packing up his gun. There’s nothing to say to him anyway. Anything that comes out will be fumbled, in poor taste even.

  I let Four get in front of me, keeping my eyes downward. He’s most likely already noticed that there’s something off because usually I’m several steps ahead of him. I keep myself small, though, and match his movements, so focused on the growing pain in my head at all the thoughts that I don’t even take notice to anything around me. 

  “You have a problem?” I ask. 

  Because Four is at my open door, hands in the pockets of his jacket. Because I refuse to look up from my book that I ended up borrowing from another operative for the sole reason that I wanted to be their friend. Get to know the person you want to be friends with and all that. 

  “Don’t be smart,” he responds, stepping through the threshold.

  I roll my eyes and toss the book onto my bed. “I didn’t get in the way so I don’t know what else you have to be upset about.”

  “The attitude, for one, actually.”

  A scowl sets itself on my lips. He mirrors my expression slightly. There’s a short silence before he breathes in and speaks. “You didn’t even argue when I told you to do something. You held yourself back jumping into fights, too.”

  “Is that bad?” I raise an eyebrow at him, confused.

   “No,” he answers, “That’s the way you should be on missions, but you shouldn’t be a whole different person.”

  I don’t have anything to say in return, so he takes it as a cue to go on.

  “If it’s about what happened before--” 

  Now, I do have something to say. “Stop. Please, stop.” I breathe in. “Yes, it is about what happened before. Of course it is. But--” I put an emphasis on that word. “It was still my decision to change. With that being said, goodbye.”

  I’m avoiding the real issue here.

  “Not goodbye,” Four replies, letting out a frustrated sigh afterwards. I feel myself shrink again.

  “I didn’t want to cause any problems this time around,” I cut in.

  “That’s a bit of a surprise,” he mutters, looking to the side quickly before lack at me. “You usually are fine with causing a bit of problems.”

  “I...” What do I say to that? “...know, but I didn’t want to give you anymore trouble.”

  That made it awkward for a solid half a second before my lips start moving again to recover the situation. After all, even if he’d appreciate the sentimentality, whose to say it’s appropriate right now. I’m reaching out, but it might not be the time to do so. We’re still not seeing each other the way we should. 

  “I’m sorry.” 

  It’s so quiet in my room tonight. Four is still across from me, and I’ve already returned to my book. I’ve said what I wanted, so I push him back. It doesn’t work well like this, but it’s not the time yet. 

  “It’s okay,” he says, finally. “It’s...okay.” 

  My grip on the book tightens slightly, a forced smile shows up on my face. He’ll notice it sure enough. He knows I don’t think it’s okay. We’ll have to be content with ending the conversation here. 

  “Alright. Goodbye.” My voice is a little strained. 

  I have so much I’m thinking about. My head hurts from it all. So much to think and nothing to show for it at all. I understand certain complexities of the situation - of him, of myself, of our lives now - but I don’t dare to speak a single word of it. I’m still scared to open it all up to others. Why disturb the water’s surface if it looks peaceful?

  “Bring me dessert, please, Four?” I’ll cover up again. “Pretty please? With a cherry on top?” And again. Again. 

  “Now you’re back to old self again.” He clicks his tongue. “Dessert? Don’t you need to sleep?”

  “Don’t say that! I deserve a reward for all my hardwork.”

  “You just followed me around.”

  “Which was an extremely difficult job might I say. I get bored staring at your back all the time.”

  “Then we won’t go any more missions together if that’s what you want.”

  “No! Then you’ll be devastated without me.”

  “Absolutely not.”

[stellarbisexual]

A Memory of Love (3/?)

Summary: Richie and Eddie, who haven’t seen each other since they were kids, get cast as the lead couple in an indie film.

Canon-divergent, Reddie are in their 30s.

Previously: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

READ ON AO3

Chapter 3: Rehearsal Pt. 1

It takes only a few days for them to arrange everything.  Eddie goes back to New York and packs up two months’ worth of stuff--seven weeks for filming and another three for this experiment they apparently thought was a good idea, while Richie gets his house in order.  

“I probably should’ve mentioned,” Eddie’s gentle voice says over the phone just as he’s about to get on a plane back to LAX, “I have my dog with me.  I can totally board her for the three weeks if need be--but she is a therapy dog, technically.”

Richie’s eyes light up.  “Are you fucking kidding me?!  That’s a bonus.” He’s already revising his shopping list.  “What kind of treats does she like?”

As he wanders through the aisles of his local Whole Foods later that morning, Richie finds himself falling prey to the sweet seduction of this whole scenario, ticking items off from the list of staples Richie’d strong armed Eddie into giving him.  He’s lived alone for the better part of a decade, and in that time, he’s been too busy to spend much time inside his own house let alone have a guest stay so long.

Ever since he was a kid, Richie’s had a sweet tooth, but he’s had to scale it back in recent years (even as a male comedian, he hasn’t been spared the vanity of his industry), opting for the organic versions of some of his gummy favorites and cutting others out entirely.  Eddie’s even healthier than that, which comes as no surprise, maintaining a nearly vegan diet.

Eddie’s flight gets delayed a bit, making Richie comically antsy, and he arrives on Richie’s doorstep just before five looking tired but optimistic, the leash extending from his hand going taut as a medium-sized black and white border collie tries to leap at Richie.  “Barb,” Eddie chides quietly, laughing.

Richie kneels and opens his arms to her, wide.  “BABY!!!”

“You asked for it,” Eddie says, unclipping the leash and letting her knock Richie over.  “Barb, seriously? I’ve never seen her like this.”

Barb won’t stop wiggling in Richie’s arms, giving his face a thorough tongue bath, the vinyl material of her vest making a funny zippery sound against his belt.  “You can just leave her stuff there,” Richie says, pointing to the doorway. “I booked you at the Radisson down the street. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to take her from me,” Eddie muses, starting to drag his suitcases over the threshold.

“Wait wait wait, don’t,” Richie says firmly--and hilariously, this brings the dog right to attention.  She scrambles off of him and sits politely, awaiting instruction. Richie chuckles, scratching one of her ears.  “Not you; your dad.” He turns to Eddie. “Absolutely not. Go sit down, I’ll take care of it. I feel like enough of a schmuck for not being able to pick you up from the airport.”

“Richie, it’s fine--”

“Sit.  I’ll give you both a tour in a sec.”  He pulls Eddie’s suitcases in and shuts the door behind him, watching with a smile as Eddie’s eyes scale the walls and ceilings of his home.  “Barb, huh? Is that after Streisand?”

“Stanwyck,” Eddie corrects.  “I’m not that gay.” Richie laughs.  Eddie spins on his heels, strolling across the living room and checking out the view through the back of the house.  “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but Richie, this is gorgeous.  I don’t think she’s gonna want to come back to New York with me when this is over.”

“Plenty of room,” Richie says, reiterating what he’d said the last time they saw each other, in the bar, and finds a small part of him hoping that Eddie decides he doesn’t want to go back to New York, either.

*

Eddie’s walk with Barb gives him a second wind, so he agrees to read through the script with Richie once before dinner.  Being a self-proclaimed TPW (total prop whore), Richie suggests they do as much of the action as they possibly can, scrambling through the house to approximate almost every item that’s mentioned in the script--and even some things that aren’t.  

In the days since the read-through, Richie’s been practicing, almost an embarrassing amount.  What’s even more embarrassing is that all that work goes completely out the window once he’s acting with Eddie.  That’s his first lesson: he can’t really plan the way he says any particular line, the way he did on TFS. Comedy, especially sketch comedy, is kind of musical; you’ve got to hit every note precisely, and it’s way more about how certain words sound than how you feel saying them.  

He does give himself credit for adjusting to what Eddie’s giving him.  He might be passable at this, after all.

Seeing Eddie work is a huge turn-on, knocks Richie completely out of his own head.  As a comedian, there’s nothing more exciting to Richie than commitment, and Eddie is nothing if not committed.  There’s no ego in anything he does; as analytical as he is, he manages to be totally present while they’re reading together.  He’s just totally fucking there.  Open to whatever happens.  

Eddie would probably be fantastic at improv, Richie thinks.  He’ll have to get him to play with him some time.

During one of their two breakup scenes in the script--the second one, where they’re older--Eddie nearly makes Richie cry with the tears shimmering in his own eyes.  

When the last words of dialogue are spoken, Richie blows a big breath out of his mouth and groans a wrung-out, “Fuck,” tossing the script across the room.  Barb lifts her head to watch it sail, then lowers it back down to rest on her daintily crossed front paws.    

Eddie laughs, loud and bright, clearly grateful to him for diffusing the tension.  “Not an uplifting one, is it?”

“No, sir.”  Richie’s palms slide slowly down his face.  The doorbell rings--their takeout. “Thank God.  Let’s eat our feelings.”

They sit on the lanai over a huge spread from the best vegan place Richie could find, watching the sun set.  He isn’t much of a cook and he’d insisted that Eddie not cook his first night back in town after a long trip.  

“I probably shouldn’t say this,” Richie starts, bringing the neck of his Corona to his lips, “‘cause it’ll tip the power scales your way for this entire shoot.  But you’re really something else, Kaspbrak.”

Eddie blushes a little as he drinks from a bottle of sparkling water.  “How do you mean?”

“You’re fucking good, man.  Just… you’re so real.”  Richie chuckles at himself.  “God, I sound like a fucking moron.  ‘You’re so real.’ Please don’t ever let me talk about acting ever again.”

“Richie, you know what you’re doing.  Stop acting like you don’t. I definitely wouldn’t have signed on to this if I hadn’t been not just confident in you but excited to work with you.”

Richie hums.  “Paycheck probably doesn’t hurt, either.”

Eddie smiles.  “Hey: I doubt I’m getting paid anything near what you are.”  He chucks a piece of soy chicken satay at him, and Richie ducks it with a wince.  

“Touché.”

“Thank you, though,” Eddie says, though he doesn’t look particularly taken with the compliment, more like he really doesn’t give a shit about being seen as good at all.  Like he’d said when they first got drinks, the audience doesn’t matter. “I have pretty intense anxiety,” Eddie says quietly, “so all my stuff is right here.” He waves his free hand around his throat and chest.  “There’s nowhere for me to hide.”

Richie isn’t sure he understands.  His life as a performer has been all about hiding so far, behind wigs and voices and, yes, props.  He’s never been great at stand-up for that very reason. Too exposing. But he’s intrigued. “Any of this hitting home for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“This.”  Richie leans across the table to tap the cover page of Eddie’s script.

Eddie’s brow furrows.  “Um. I don’t really have a point of reference.”

Richie watches him closely.  “No serious relationships?”

“Not really,” Eddie shrugs, leaning back in his chair and watching the breeze make gentle little waves along the surface of Richie’s pool.  “I try, but it’s hard to trust people.” He stops himself, revising. “It’s hard for me to trust people.  Makes it almost impossible to fall in love.”

There’s something about the way Eddie’s voice curls around the word love that makes Richie’s insides collapse.  For how open Eddie’s been so far, this whole conversation feels like a locked door.  Richie wants to smash it open, caveman-style. But before he can pick up that first proverbial rock, Eddie’s poking at him in return.

“How ‘bout you?” he asks.

Richie gives an easy laugh.  “No. Sex is easy; sex is fine.  Relationships I can take or leave.”

Eddie gives him a penetrating, horribly unnerving look like he knows something Richie doesn’t--or maybe that Richie does.  “We’re both a couple of messes, huh?” Somehow Eddie manages to make it sound both hopeful and sad.

“I speak only for myself.”  Richie smiles softly at him.

*

They engage in a pretty awkward dance just before bed.  Somehow they’d dodged discussion of sleeping arrangements when Richie’d given Eddie and Barb a tour of the house earlier.  They look at each other, two sets of eyes wide and bewildered.

Thankfully, Eddie saves them.  “I should probably sleep in one of the guest rooms while I still have this jet lag.”

“Okay,” Richie says quickly.  “We can--I mean, if you want--when you’re ready, I’m open to--”

Eddie laughs quietly, then reaches for Richie, running a hand along the length of one of his arms.  “Let’s play it by ear. Probably better if we ease into it.”

“...Okay.”  Richie can feel every one of his nerves pinging around his face.  He works to school his expression. He blinks. Eddie’s hand is still lingering on his wrist.  “Just… make yourself at home. Anything you need.”

Eddie laughs again, softer.  “Goodnight, Richie.” Then he rises up a little on the balls of his feet and presses a kiss to Richie’s cheek.  The kiss feels just a shade over the line of friendly.

Richie watches as he disappears through the archway on the other side of the house.  

*

The next morning, Richie wakes to a faint whine and a wet nose nudging at the arm he’s got hanging off the side of the bed.  One of his eyes blinks open, landing on the dog he’d totally forgotten spent the night in his home. He smiles, wide and sleepy.  “Hey, Barbarella.” He listens for Eddie, but the house is quiet. “Dad not up yet?” He glances at his watch on the bedside table: eight a.m.  

Barb sits obediently, her tail wagging a little over the rug.  

“Okay,” he grunts, flipping the covers off and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.  “We’ll let Dad sleep in. I’ll take you on a little adventure.”

After a brief search, he finds Barb’s leash by the back door where Eddie’d left it last night, clips it to her collar, pockets a few treats, and slides the back door open, squinting against the already oppressive sun.  “Oof. Gonna be a hot one today.” He’s glad he opted to stay shirtless, keeping just his sweat shorts and slipping on a pair of sandals.

Living in the hills, he has access to several hiking paths.  Barb eagerly follows, stopping to pee a few times along the way, and picking up a stick for Richie to throw.  He’s reluctant to let her off her leash, though, which he makes sure to explain to her with profuse apologies and promises to let her run wild later--if Eddie allows it.

They’re out for nearly an hour, and by the time they come back, Barb is panting happily and Eddie is out on the lanai in a t-shirt and boxers, drinking from a mug, his hair messy and his eyes puffy but satisfied.  Richie notices his gaze drop briefly down to Richie’s naked torso before darting respectfully back up to his own eyes.

He can’t help thinking that it’s all very dangerous, this trick they’ve started to play on both their minds, this illusion that they’re actually together.

“Good morning,” Eddie says, his voice a soft, raspy thing.  Barb bounds up to him, and he lights up. “Hi, sweetheart. Did Richie take you on a walk?”  She flops onto her back, twisting, and Eddie rubs her stomach. “You’re never gonna want to come back to our shitty little studio in Queens, are you?”

“I intend on spoiling you both every day that you’re here,” Richie says, not giving himself the time to regret the blatant flirtation.  Eddie sits back in his chair and hides his blush with a sip of coffee--or green tea by the looks of it. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Like a rock,” Eddie replies, raspy, then clears his throat.  “I forgot what silence sounds like. It’s nice.”

Richie bites back a smile, all too pleased that Eddie’s already comfortable in his home.  “Well. Don’t get used to it. I sing all the time. ”  Before Eddie can inquire, Richie’s taking a deep belly breath and turning wide eyes down to Barb as he croons: “Sometimes I feel like I don’t have a partner, sometimes I feel like my only friend...”

Eddie watches patiently as he turns back in the direction of the pool, belting loud enough to scare some of the birds out of the trees.  

“...IS THE CITY I LIVE IN, THE CITY OF ANGELS.  LONELY AS I AM, TOGETHER WE CRY.”  When he turns back, Eddie’s got both hands over his eyes, mortified but still smiling.  Barb howls, and they both laugh.

*

Richie isn’t sure what he expected, but he thought there would at least be more acting involved in this whole arrangement.  But his and Eddie’s first week together is spent just living side by side, floating in and out of each other’s space by day and retiring to opposite sides of the house by night, Barb sometimes torn over who she should follow (which makes Eddie hilariously jealous).  

Despite what Richie’d said to Eddie their first night in the house together, he’s been in love before--well, whatever he believed to be love at those particular times.  Still, he’s never been so taken with the details of someone in his life, the way that he is with Eddie.  Every morning over eggs or cereal, he watches furtively from the kitchen island as Eddie does yoga out on the lanai, the glistening furrow of his brow and the utterly precise way his foot swishes back and forth to smooth out the curled up ends of his mat.

It’s never struck Richie how much he’s wanted someone else living in his space with him until now.  Or maybe he wants to keep Eddie around in the hopes that he’ll will some childhood memories out from the darker recesses of his mind.

On the sixth night, Richie stands restlessly in the living room as Eddie loads up the dishwasher.  “Hey: you wanna watch a movie?”

“I was wondering if that collection was just for show.”  Eddie shakes his wet, washed hands over the sink and dries them off with a tea towel.  

The collection to which Eddie refers is Richie’s comedy vault, a comprehensive (incredibly nerdy) library of comedy shorts, films, and TV shows dating back to the silent era.  “Your pick,” he says, waving a hand at the media wall and flopping down on the big sectional. “I’ve seen ‘em all thousands of times.”

After a long silence, Eddie finally enters, tossing Richie a piece of dark chocolate covered caramel and unwrapping one for himself.  He stuffs his hands in his back pockets and tilts his head, one of Richie’s favorite stances of his; he likes what it does to Eddie’s shoulders.  Eddie’s eyes run over the titles, and Richie watches, sucking every last bit of chocolate off the caramel in his mouth. Barb’s already curled up at Richie’s feet and on her way to snoozing.

Eddie smiles.  “You have a laserdisc player?”

“Some of them are only available that way.”

“Well now I wanna watch a laserdisc,” Eddie says, running his fingers over the thin cases that look like vinyls.  “You know, I’ve gotta be honest: I thought you’d be out at some fancy party every other night of the week.”

“You thought wrong, pumpkin.”  Richie snuggles further into the cushions, wishing he’d changed into sweats but too comfortable to get up.  “I’m partied out, man,” he says, quoting Wayne’s World.  

Eddie pulls out a collection of Tex Avery cartoons.  

“Good choice,” Richie smiles, watching with major amusement as Eddie peers into the sleeve, his eyes going wide.

“Um.  How do I…?”  Eddie laughs at himself.  “I don’t want to break it.”

Richie heaves himself off the couch and gets everything set up, settling back in right next to Eddie, who leans into his shoulder just as the first short gets started.  “Oh, hello there,” Richie teases, feeling a flirty little buzz of excitement in the pit of his stomach.

“Thought I’d jump right in,” Eddie explains.

“I like it.”

They laugh together through the first cartoon, quietly, and spend even more time talking about how outdated and offensive a lot of the jokes are.  Richie reaches for Eddie’s hand, which has flopped down next to his own thigh, and laces their fingers together. He sees Eddie inhale and then smile out of the corner of his eye.  He tries to pay attention as the vibrant colors flash across their faces.

“I have a question,” Eddie says about halfway through the second cartoon.  “You don’t have to answer if it’s too personal.”

“...Shoot.”

Eddie still hesitates.  “Have you ever been with a guy, Richie?”

Richie turns so he’s talking right into the hair at the crown of Eddie’s head.  “That’s maybe the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard, Kaspbrak. I expected more from you.”  Eddie laughs. “Yeah, I have.” Eddie’s quiet for a long beat, so Richie gives him a little tickle at his side.  “I’m not kissing and telling, if that’s what you’re after.”

“Stop,” Eddie says, laughing and smacking his hands away.  “Jerkoff.”

“Jerkoff?   Wow.”  Richie moves to tickle him again--he couldn’t help it if he tried--and Eddie scrambles as far as he can without falling off the couch.  

“No, Richie, no--I’m really, really fucking ticklish, don’t.”

Richie goes for it anyway, just to see Eddie squirm and giggle again, and to feel how warm he is.  Shit, he feels like he’s sixteen. “Did I pass the big gay test with flying colors?” Eddie shrieks.  “Huh?”

“That’s not why I asked!”  Richie finally relents, and Eddie catches his breath.  “That’s not why I asked. I just wanted to know.”

Richie can feel his eyes going soft as he looks at him.  “...Okay. Fair enough.” He scoots back to his original spot and settles in, watching as Eddie rights his clothes.  He curls his palm at him, beckoning. “Come on, snuggle time. Tickle torture is over, I promise.”

Eddie cautiously crawls toward him.  “I know you’re super fucking tall, but I’m pretty strong; I could pin you.”

“That a promise?”  Richie raises an eyebrow.  

“Shithead,” Eddie says under his breath as he snuggles into Richie’s side again. 

Richie’s arm settles around his shoulders.  Eddie feels so comfortable there, so right that Richie can’t help envisioning a different reality than the one they’re in, one where he and Eddie stayed in touch, became high school sweethearts, and married really young.  It practically feels that way.

His next words for Eddie are quiet.  “Do you think we should get the first kiss over with?”

“Um.”  Eddie looks up at him, his eyes wide and honey warm.  “Okay.”

He leans up slightly, and Richie dips down, barely getting Eddie’s top lip.  It’s chaste but promising. When they pull apart, Eddie’s expression is terribly serious, so Richie sticks his tongue out at him to ease the tension.  Eddie does smile, close-mouthed and sweet, ducking his head.

“Should we go for a real one?” Richie asks.  Eddie lifts his eyes again, looking slightly bewildered.  “I’m not trying to be creepy, if you’re not--”

“Let’s try it,” Eddie says, so quickly Richie nearly flinches, his eyes darting down to Richie’s lips before he shifts, sitting upright on the couch so they’re almost level.

Richie swallows, actually nervous, and decides he’ll let Eddie take the wheel on this one.

It starts with Eddie’s fingers on his face, his thumb and his index finger bracketing the corner of his jaw where his stubble’s a couple of days grown in, thumb settling in the divot in his chin.  He leans in slowly, taking in Richie’s expression before capturing Richie’s bottom lip between his own. His lips are so full and soft, Richie has to actively try not to fucking melt into the cushions.

He hears the faint sound of Eddie shifting on the couch, moving onto his knees, before he can even think to get his hands on him, anchoring himself with a loose grip on his hips, not wanting to push too hard but figuring it might actually be welcome, the way Eddie’s mouth is moving all lush and wet up against his own.   Shit.   Eddie’s a crazy good fucking kisser, he thinks, as his tongue slips right into his mouth, brushing coyly against his own and tasting salty-sweet like caramel.  So good Richie wants to tell him right now, but that would mean stopping, and he is not about that.

Before he can get his mind right, Eddie’s pulling away and darting in for one last soft peck--and it’s the sound of that, the precise little snick of their mouths separating that unearths something: a memory.  

So instead of telling Eddie how good a fucking kisser he is, he’s saying, “Not our first kiss,” breathless with the revelation.  Eddie shakes his head, dazed, his hands resting on his shoulders, going tight and then loose on the material of his t-shirt. “What do you remember?  Tell me.”

“I shouldn’t…” Eddie says, his eyes already telling about a thousand stories.  

Richie moves one hand up to cradle his face.  “Tell me,” he urges gently. “Please? I want to know.”

Eddie huffs a big breath through his nose, licking his lips, eyes darting decidedly away from Richie’s.  “Seven minutes in heaven.”

“Hm?”

“Seven minutes in heaven, seventh grade.  Somebody’s birthday party, not one of our friends, not really.  I picked your name out of the hat, and everyone gave me shit for not wanting to go into the closet with you.”  Eddie looks so vulnerable, Richie wants to hold him, closer than before, closer than anyone has. “I started thinking--ironically--that they’d know what I was if I didn’t just laugh it off and go in there with you.  And you didn’t give a shit, so I just grabbed your hand and pulled you in there after me.  At which point, I of course immediately started having an asthma attack.”

Richie watches him, unable to breathe himself.

“You kept saying, ‘It’s okay, we don’t have to do anything, we don’t have to do it, it’s okay.’  But that made it worse; it just made me feel more alone. You got my inhaler out of my pocket for me, but it didn’t help.  I was convinced I was going to suffocate in that fucking closet.”

“Would’ve been poetic,” Richie can’t help but say--and almost apologizes for it except that Eddie gives him a wry, grateful smile.  

“Yeah, would’ve been.  Um.” Eddie’s voice goes softer and kind of raspy.  “And then you just grabbed my face and said, ‘Eddie, look at me, look at me.’  And you kissed me--not for a joke or anything. A real kiss. And just like that, I could breathe again.”  Eddie holds his hand up preemptively. “Before you get smug, the kiss itself wasn’t that great. But it was my first,” Eddie shrugs.  “So--belatedly--thank you.”

Richie thinks he might actually cry.  He clears his throat. “I wish I re--”

“I know,” Eddie waves him off.  “It’s okay. It was one of the first things that came up for me in therapy, around coming to terms with who I was.  Who I am. And it look a lot of digging, believe me. My shrink used to call me Fort Knox.”

“If you’re Fort Knox, I’m the fucking Pentagon.”

Eddie looks intrigued by Richie’s joke.

“Stay with me tonight?”

“What?”

“Sleep in bed with me.  I won’t try anything, I promise.”

“I know that; I trust you,” Eddie says, finally removing his hands from Richie’s shoulders and letting them come to rest limply in his own lap.  “I just… don’t sleep well, in general. Having Barb nearby helps, but I might be up once or twice. Or a lot--depending on what my brain decides to dish out.”

“I can handle it,” Richie says with a confidence he doesn’t feel.

“Okay,” Eddie says, and Richie braces himself, expecting--hoping for--another kiss that ultimately doesn’t come, not the rest of that night, anyway.

permatag list: @reddie-to-fight @hurleyhugo @raspberrywind @losver-kaspbrak @lilgeorgie @geckolover001 @its-stranger-than-you-think @gazebo-motherfucker @waypunsarelife @reddietofall @happytozier @librablossom @aesteddie @tapetayloe@spagheddi-kaspbrak @sadhelianthus @adhdtozier @justcallme-trashmouth @fuckboyrichie  @bandaids @20gayteeneds @richietoaster @burymestanding @reddiepop@notsugarandspice @richiefuckfacetozier @noahsschnapp

a memory of love list: @artofhely @trippy-alexissss @feelinsorad @where-ismy-miind @justanothetfangirl

[tmitransitioning]

Hey! I've got a weird one, sorry. I'm FtM, and I had top surgery about 4 weeks ago (DI with free nipple grafts). Everything's healing really well, but the nipple grafts are really, really sensitive. Like, wearing a shirt or having bedsheets over them is painful. The seatbelt in my car has become my worst enemy. Is this normal? I always hear that it's more likely to LOSE sensation than the other way around. Thanks for your time!

I’ve heard of this happening before! Nobody is quite sure why, but it’s probably due to them being... essentially wounds, though I hate using that term to describe a part of someone’s body. They’re just starting to heal and are physiologically similar to new skin forming over a deep scrape or cut. Over time, they should ‘calm down’; hopefully they have a little by the time this answer goes through. People who lose sensation often have that happen because the nerves between their grafts and the rest of their nervous system don’t connect, either due to physical damage/lack of blood supply in the graft itself or just plain bad luck in where their nerves grow.

You’re having the opposite problem—your nerves did reconnect, and your body’s growing new ones, but because your nipples have moved on your chest your body doesn’t know what to do with the input it’s getting from them.

I also got carried away and explained why, but it’s long, so it’s going under a cut.

Quick definitions you may already know:

A neuron/”nerve cell” is the individual cell that responds to stimulus.

It has a cell body (where stuff like the nucleus lives), an axon (long “tail” that sends signals to other neurons) and dendrites (little tentacle or branch -looking things that receive signals from other neurons).

A nerve is a bundle of super long axons all wrapped up together inside myelin and connective tissue; its job is to either receive info from your senses and transmit it to your brain OR take motor signals from your brain and send them to your muscles (”the cup is hot” versus “pull my hand away”).

Neurons talk to each other via neurotransmitters that tell the dendrites to take in or keep out certain amounts of ions; when enough electrical signal is present, an action potential happens and rapidly depolarizes the neuron, causing it to “fire” and send an electrical impulse down its axon. Then the neuron has a brief period where it repolarizes, and then it can fire again.

The important part of this is the action potential—it has to be above a certain threshold in order to set off the chain reaction of depolarization. If the neuron receives electrical signals but those don’t add up to hit that threshold, the neuron doesn’t fire.

Why am I talking about this in a post about your nipples?

There are two processes that are relevant here. First, sensory adaptation happens when sensory neurons that are repeatedly stimulated eventually display a reduced electrical response to that stimulus. One of the things that happens with this reduced response is that the neurons fire less frequently, which translates eventually to a decreased perception of the stimulus.

Habituation also happens in response to repeated stimulation, but the difference is that in habituation you have less neurotransmitter being released the further “up” the sensory chain you go, and less of a response in your central nervous system instead of the peripheral. So your sensory receptors are still going “holy shit we’re touching a shirt”, but your brain decides to ignore that.

Habituation is usually characterized as a reduced motor response to a stimulus, but that’s not really accurate. It’s more like your brain learning not to focus its attention on something, and it’s long-term instead of short-term like sensory adaptation. But it’s also totally involuntary—impaired ability to habituate is one of the proposed factors in why some people develop chronic pain.

So, over time, both of these things will happen to your nipples. Your sensory neurons will adapt, and fire less frequently in response to being touched. And you brain will habituate to the concept that your nipples are there, thus directing its attention away from them. These processes will, eventually, translate to less experience of pain.

- Mod Wolf

[cas-essence]

For the Dancing and the Dreaming

Summary: Dean can sing after all. He’s just never let himself before. (Or: The one in which Sam and Cas catch Dean singing and dancing in the kitchen.)

Pairing: destiel

Read it on Ao3.

“Are you kidding me? I am not coming with you guys on that case!”

“Why not, Sam? It looks like a Wendigo and those are always a challenge. I’m not as good a hunter as you are. I’m certain Dean would need you more as a backup than he’d need me.”

“First of all, you are a good hunter; you just lack confidence. And second, I do NOT need to share a motel room with you two, three days after you finally figured your shit out. You have a decade worth of UST to resolve and I don’t want to be anywhere near you when that happens.”

Sam slammed the Impala’s trunk a little more forcefully than necessary and shot the newly-turned-ex-angel an annoyed look. They were both carrying bags of groceries in their arms as they made their way out of the garage and towards the kitchen.

“I don’t know what your problem is.” Cas replied a little indignantly, while holding the door open for Sam, who had two bags in his arms instead of one like Cas. “We have only ever had sex outside of Dean’s or my room when you weren’t in the bunker.”

Sam’s eyes went comically wide and he almost tripped over his own feet.

“Ugh, I don’t want to know that, man! Oh please, don’t tell me you’ve done it on the kitchen table. I eat there!”

The thought made him physically cringe, but when he turned to look at his friend, he noticed that the corners of the other man’s mouth were quivering.

“Wait …”, Sam sounded genuinely surprised. “You played me! You never had sex on the kitchen table!”

At that Castiel finally broke. His mouth split into a wide grin and he started to laugh a deep rumbling chuckle. Sam gaped at him for three solid seconds until he couldn’t hold it in anymore and began to laugh, too.

They turned the corner into the corridor that lead to the kitchen.

“Seriously Cas, if I ever catch you two in any spaces in the bunker that I have to share with you, you’re both disowned! Bad enough I had to buy noise canceling headphones.” He shrugged towards a pair of headphones that were lying on top of the groceries in his arms. It was only then that he noticed that Cas was no longer walking next to him.

“Cas?”

The ex-angel had stopped in the doorway and was now standing on the threshold to the corridor, his head cocked to the side in that familiar way that made Sam sure that he would have recognised his friend in any vessel the angel could have possibly taken when he had still been an angel.

“Can you hear that, Sam?”

The hunter didn’t even need to strain his ears, now that he had stopped talking. There was singing coming from the kitchen. The voice echoed through the hallway, rough and deep, but upbeat and carrying the melody effortlessly.

“My dearest one, my darling dear, Your mighty words astound me. But I’ve no need of mighty deeds When I feel your arms around me!”

The song sounded vaguely familiar and Sam would have thought that Dean had put on the radio, if it hadn’t been for the lack of instruments playing in the background.

“That can’t be …?” Sam didn’t notice that he trailed off as he listened to the singing.

He looked towards Cas whose initial puzzled frown slowly morphed into a gentle contemplative smile.

“I’ve never heard Dean sing before.”

Sam let out an involuntary snort.

“Yeah, well, I have and believe me, he can’t carry a tune to save his live.”

Cas locked eyes with Sam. His mouth was turned up into a gentle smile, but his eyes were beaming.

“He is not doing it to save his life, now, is he?”

With that, he started to inch his way towards the closed kitchen door, obviously taking great care not to make too much noise. He transferred the bag he was holding from his right arm to his left and pushed open the door very cautiously until there was a little gap just wide enough to peer through with one eye. The singing got louder instantly.

Cas looked back at Sam and beckoned him over with a jerk of his head.

The new human crouched down to make way for Sam, so the taller man could lean over him to have a peek.

Sam’s first reflex at the sight that greeted them was to burst out laughing, but he pressed his closed fist to his mouth to suppress the urge. Still, the image of his brother in slippers, boxers and his open dead-guy-robe, dancing through the kitchen while assembling ingredients for breakfast was not something he would likely ever forget. His pink IPod was sticking out of his pocket and he had his headphones in his ears.

Apparently they had caught him during an instrumental part because Dean had stopped his preparation for making pancakes to mimick something that looked a lot like badly executed Irish folk dancing. Sam looked down at Cas and saw that his friend was looking up at him, a beaming smile on his lips.

‘Let’s go inside’, Sam mouthed. Dean had turned his back to them anyway. They might as well enjoy the show properly, without risking permanent back damage.

Cas pushed himself up with one hand, wincing as he straightened his knees and securing the groceries in his arms, and they quietly slipped through the door.

Dean still seemed to think he was alone. He had started to put the ingredients into a large bowl and was now singing along again, all the while dancing so wildly that he nearly spilled dough all over himself more than once.

“To love and kiss! To sweetly hold! For the dancing and the dreaming! Through all those horrors and those nights! I’d keep your love beside me!”

Suddenly Sam remembered where he had heard that song before. In their efforts to introduce Cas to a wider spectrum of movies, they had watched “How to train your Dragon” one and two about a week ago. Sam had been skeptical about watching kids’ movies, but had been pleasantly surprised. Apparently, Dean had liked it, too, since it seemed he had downloaded the soundtrack.

His brother now reached the end of the song and started to dance in time to his stirring. Sam remembered that the song had been sung by the protagonist’s parents and that the father’s voice had been very scratchy and flat. Dean’s voice was gentle, though, and more soothing than Sam had ever heard it.

“I’ll swim and sail on savage seas With ne'er a fear of drowning, And gladly ride the waves of life If you would marry me!”

Dean carried the last note for several seconds, his voice confidently rising to a crescendo, while spreading his arms wide and sliding to the side. He finally spun around in an elaborate circle, splashing dough everywhere, the last “meeee” still on his lips.

Sam could pinpoint the exact moment Dean finally noticed them. His brother stopped in his tracks as if he had hit a brick wall and for a moment he stood frozen, his arms still outstretched and his mouth wide open. Apparently, his brain needed a moment to reboot, but when it finally did, Dean’s face turned as red as a beat.

He slowly let his arms sink down, which made dough splatter his dead-guy-robe, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

His gaze flickered from Cas to Sam. The younger Winchester felt his smile drop off his face when he saw that there was a hint of real trepidation in his brother’s eyes, as if a part of him was truly afraid of Sam’s judgement.

Castiel, though, either hadn’t noticed the awkwardness of the situation or (and at this point Sam found this to be much more likely) had chosen to ignore it.

“I have never heard anything more beautiful than your singing.”

At the naked adoration in those words Dean’s face turned from red to purple and he ducked his head, but there was also a shy, pleased smile on his lips.

Castiel seemed to have spotted it, too. He put the bag he had still been carrying on the kitchen table, crossed the room in three great strikes, grabbed Dean by the shoulders, spun him around and pushed him up against the counter as if he still had his angelic strength, while he smashed their lips together.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa”, Sam spluttered, even though he wasn’t sure if anyone was still paying attention to him. His brother was sitting on the counter now. He had his legs wrapped around Castiel and his hands fisted in his hair.

Sam had never seen both his brother and his best friend as happy and light-hearted as they had been since their first kiss. It let him breath more freely than he had in years to know that his brother was truly happy, but still, there was a limit to what he could take.

“Okay … I’m outta here. I’m happy for you guys, but I don’t need to see you do any … “, he made a vague gesture towards them. “… you know, “dancing”.”

Cas stopped what could only be described as downright snogging Dean to answer.

“We won’t dance, Sam. We’ll have sex.”

Dean sighed and buried his face in Cas’s neck in lieu of a face-palm.

“That’s what he meant, Cas.”

“Oh believe me, he knows”, Sam said and shared a brief grin with his friend. “Now, go to your room and do your “dancing” there.”

(If you liked it, please consider reblogging! :))

Thank you to my awesome beta: @fangirlingtodeath513

Also tagging some people who I hope will enjoy this:

@tolkienite23

@helianthus21

@wildcas

@huggy-bears

@medeah

@destielonfire

@attackdogcas

@justrandomspnstuff

@lunellumcas

@super-sootica

I hope you all don't mind being tagged :)

[ricarasasvada-blog]

The journey towards rasasvada: the taste of bliss in the absence of thought.

It’s amazing, isn’t it? How our day can go from one of the best to one of the worst in a matter of seconds. How we can be so happy and positive one minute, then completely destroyed the next? 

You’ll never understand a fear way beyond falling. You’ll never understand what it’s like to feel the heat of the flames when you’re spectating down below. Don’t tell me it’ll get better if you’ve never experienced it. 

Nobody likes a hypocrite. 

The truth that nobody likes to tell you is that it won’t get better. Psychologically, you just become numb to the pain. One of my best friends suffers from a killer disease and although his pain is daily, he handles it. He’s had open heart surgery at 20 years old, walks with a cane at 30, & lives with constant pain and seizures. It’s his “normal”, though. He always trucks on towards another day. His physical pain threshold is much higher than the typical person. The same goes for any type of pain: physical or emotional.

My psychological threshold will adapt as well. Eventually, nightmares and constant fear will become my normal, but they’ll be bearable. 

I’m writing this bullshit in the middle of the night, the typical time these types of thoughts come about. 

Exactly 7 months ago, my life flipped upside down. It’s something I don’t really talk about. There’s stigma. There’s shame. 

It was somebody I was in love with. It was somebody I thought I was going to marry. I had a very abusive childhood so I’ve never been trusting of people. I’ve had boyfriends, but I was never really “in love”. This guy was different. I met him in the military. His dorm room was across from mine. His roommate was the one who introduced me to him. I’m not sure if “love at first sight” is an actual thing, but it was when I met him. He was a few weeks behind my WOT so we first bonded over our schooling and the fact that we had the same instructors. He’d kiss me goodbye every morning before school and we got to reunite after school at 1700. We would go to the chow hall together & then to the BX. It was our nightly routine. He’d get a big gulp that was larger than my fucking head & I’d get hot cheetos. We’d spend the rest of the night in his dorm room watching youtube videos on the projector he bought since we didn’t have TVs. Lights out was 2100 on the weekdays, but you could be in the hallways until 2110. We spent every second from 1700 to 2110 together until they came over the intercom yelling at us to go into our rooms. Leaving that base was hard. All of my best friends, my boyfriend, my favorite MTLs were there. My then-boyfriend ended up failing out of the medical program and was re-classed as security forces where he eventually discharged as well. He only lived one state away from me. It was only a few hours drive to see each other. We talked about getting a place and living together. I thought I finally found my happily-ever-after.

He made a spontaneous decision to come visit me in April. It was very urgent-like. I didn’t understand why he needed to come like right now. I figured he was sexually frustrated or something & I told him not to expect sex from me, but he reassured me he just wanted to spend time with me. He got here on the 4th and I met up with him at his hotel after I got out of my last class for the day. We went to the mall and ate lunch. I suggested we go back to his room because I had an impromptu speech to give the next day that required me to be up-to-date with current events. I told him I wanted to go watch CNN for a few hours so I can prepare for this assignment worth 30% of my grade. 

We went back to the room and things turned ugly pretty quickly. I lost control of a situation I didn’t have much of a grasp on in the first place. He started reaching for my zipper and I used one hand to cover my pants button and zipper and used the other to swat his hands away. I tried to hold my clothes onto me, but he was stronger. It was a tug-of-war. 

I told him “no” and “I don’t fucking want to” so many times that night. Eventually, I realized that nothing was going to work. Every time I put up a fight--every time I pushed him, he kept bitching that he “needed to finish”. I figured the best and fastest way for this situation to end was to just shut up and ignore the physical and mental pain for the time being. 

I remember lying there limp and cold. 

You’ll never forget the feel of an environment like that. It was a 110 degree day and we had the A/C as low as the hotel room allowed it to go. The lampshade made the color of the room a yellowish tint. It was erie. All I heard was muffled bed creaking and the voice in my head panicking: “yell” “why are you just laying there?” “I cant believe this is happening again” I watched as the color of the curtains changed from a white, to yellow as the sun set behind them. I daydreamed of what life was like on the other side of the curtains. People walking down the streets, cars zooming home from work, drunk tourists partying and having fun. Nobody knew what was happening to me. People were going about their day. Life seemed to continue when my whole world stopped. I realized at that point how insignificant my life actually was. When he flipped me and held my arms down, I watched some football movie on TNT. It was the cowboys and the redskins. 

I watched his face when he pulled out and finished. I watched to see what must be so great about ejaculating that it was worth ruining my life over. He went over to the sink to clean himself up and I sprung up and tried finding my phone. I wanted to call a friend or the cops, but I couldn’t find it. 

I cried. 

A lot. 

I was in a lot of pain. I’m sure I bled. My chest was throbbing from the bruises he put on me. 

He laughed at me. 

Now that I think about it, I think that hurt the most. In my most vulnerable, broken moment, laughing at me seemed like a good idea since raping me wasn’t enough.

He asked if I was going to report him. 

And like the light switch that flipped from prince to predator the second I told him “no”, it flipped back. He apologized repeatedly as if it would erase anything he had just done.

I stumbled around trying to find my clothes. My eyes were too glossy and my mind was too empty to even remember what the fuck I was doing. I barely knew where I was. I felt drunk, but I wasn’t. 

I put my clothes back on facing away from him. I was embarrassed and felt disgusting.

He wanted to know where I was going. I think he was paranoid I was going to go report him. & that’s exactly what the fuck I did. He followed me to my car, apologizing repeatedly. He kept asking if I saw “el diablo” when I looked at him. I put on a brave face and tried to not let him have the satisfaction of permanently scarring me. When I got to the stoplight, after asking myself “what the fuck just happened” a million times, I decided to call someone. I intended on calling my pastor, but I accidentally hit Facetime instead of the call button so I hit cancel & called somebody else instead. I didn’t tell him what happened, but that he needed to meet me at the hospital. 

The drive to the hospital was the loneliest, most-broken mental breakdown I’ve had. My eyes were so glazed over, I’m shocked I didn’t crash. I was driving 10mph under the speed limit. I had no energy, no feeling. I ended up passing the street that I needed to turn down and didn’t realize it until about 5 miles later. 

We get to this hospital. My friend hugged me. We were told that that hospital couldn’t perform rape kits and that I had to go to a certain hospital 10 miles away. My friend took me in his car. 

When we got to this hospital, they took me to this secluded part of the hospital. They kept making me sign forms and shit. I had no energy, I was irritable. I was suicidal. I had no fucking interest in whatever they wanted me to do, sign, say. I overheard one of the nurses say, “we’ve got another one.” before they came over to me to put hospital bracelets on. They had me wait in this tiny ass room with my friend for about two hours before I got to talk to anybody. The only nurse that is certified to administer rape kits in my city was off work and had to wake up and drive to the hospital to see me. (spoiler alert: she was not in a good mood.) 

When she got there, they took me into her office. Everyone in the hallways stared at me. I was depressed, my makeup was smeared, my hair was a mess. The had me piss in a cup to make sure I wasn’t pregnant. She sat me down and told me I didn’t have to tell her much of what happened-- I was relieved. I didn’t want to talk about it. I told her I didn’t want cops involved yet because my dad is a cop. I didn’t want him to find out. She told me my different options of rape kits. There are 4: a forensic one, a medical one, and two other ones I can’t remember. I told her I didn’t know and I needed a minute to just get myself together and think about my next move. She got frustrated and told me that I needed to make up my mind. I never gave her an actual answer, but I told her the idea of taking pictures of my naked body scared me. She figured that meant I didn’t want a forensic kit. Unbeknownst to me, she performed a standard medical one. She told me to undress and I started crying again. I was just violated like an hour prior, why the fuck do I want to do it again? I finally gave in after she continued to bitch at me. She got annoyed that I wouldn’t spread my legs wide enough for her. Everything she did down there hurt. She told me I was in pain because my uterus was tensed up from the trauma. I covered my eyes until whatever she was doing to me was over. She made me bend at the waist as she checked elsewhere. Then she made me lay back on the table and she gave me an injection in the ass to prevent STDs. She gave me some animal crackers to fill my stomach because she warned me that the morning after pill would fuck me up, especially on an empty stomach. After that was over, I got to put my clothes back on. I felt a sense of safety back. They gave me some pamphlets and sent me home. My friend took me back to the first hospital to get my truck and I went home. I was exhausted and fell asleep pretty quickly only to be awoken an hour later by nausea. I’ve never felt so sick in my entire life. I honestly felt like I was dying. My vision went black and I was stumbling around my room to the bathroom where I fell. I spent the next hour cuddled up with a toilet puking. My dad yelled from his room asking if I was alright, but I ignored him. I didn’t have any strength to speak. I couldn’t even hold my own body up. I don’t remember much after that. I’m sure I lost consciousness. I woke up a few hours after that and got dressed and went to school. I had to pretend that everything was okay. I couldn’t let people know what happened. 

The following morning I started to view the world differently. I noticed the soft bubblegum pink undertones to the clouds and the sounds of bicycle chimes. I felt like I had been reborn, but under the worst possible circumstances. To everyone else, it was a normal Wednesday morning. I didn’t feel like myself. I was suicidal, but optimistic. It was conflicting, but I dealt with it.

I never coped with it. Everything is just now coming out which scares me since I have a career, my grades, on the line. 

I had recently stopped cutting a month before the assault and wanted to keep my clean streak going. I didn’t want to give him the power of breaking my spirit and my sobriety. I turned into a completely different person, but not many people noticed. I displayed every major warning sign of suicide: I changed my appearance, I gave some of my stuff away, I lost interest in everything that had previously made me happy. I stopped playing the sport I’ve played since I was 4. I stopped dancing folklorico. I wasn’t sleeping. I don’t think I was ever actively trying to kill myself, but I knew if a car was about to hit me, I wouldn’t move. 

I stopped going to church. I stopped praying. Its like the prayers in the words I spoke went unnoticed like drops in the ocean. Any request to free me from this trauma was denied. I understand the concept of freewill, but the God I followed so faithfully for 20 years abandoned me in the worst moment of my life. He was not there when bruises were put on my body by somebody who claimed to have loved me. He was not there when I was being held down by a man two times my weight. Nobody was there then and nobody is there now. 

I asked a police officer that I knew what I should do. He assured me that my dad would not find out about the assault, so 5 days later I decided to officially report it. I sat in a Starbucks parking lot for half an hour before I mustered the courage to call 311. They dispatched a cop out to me and they met me inside. Somehow they knew it was me. They came right up to me. It was a female and two male officers. The amount of cops was intimidating to me, but I followed them to their car as they requested. The female cop asked me to get in the passenger seat and she talked to me while the two males waited outside. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know where to start. She didn’t know Spanish and I didn’t know how to convey what I wanted to say in English. I typed everything in notepad on my phone and showed it to her. She was the most compassionate person I’ve ever met. She talked to me heart to heart. She told me how she was in a similar situation when she was my age and she told me her story. It was comforting to know that what I was feeling was normal. She made me feel so comfortable and safe and I believe if it wasn’t for her, I would’ve killed myself that day. 

The three cops drove me back to the hospital. The female cop by my side up until the detectives took over. I told the detectives about the golfball sized bruises on my chest and they wanted pictures taken immediately. The same bitchy nurse took me back to the room and made me undress again. I tried covering everything except the bruises for the pictures, but she told me I had to have my hands to my side. It was like a naked mugshot. I had to look at the camera. I had to look away from the camera. She took pictures from far away and up close. She held a ruler up for scale to each of the bruises. It was humiliating. 

I was brought back to the detectives where they interviewed me. It was two male detectives. I’m not sure I would’ve felt any better if they were females, but I was shy and scared. The interview had to be recorded. They asked me every question under the sun. “How did you guys meet?” “Have you guys had sex before? How many times? Vaginally? Anally? Orally?” “What were you wearing?” 

After the interview, the detectives drove me back to the Starbucks where I was parked. 

Since, they’ve conducted 2 of the 3 interviews they said that they needed to do before contacting the rapist. 

I felt horrible having my best friend sit through an hour long interview with intimidating cops. She has terrible anxiety. 

I’m not coping well or I wouldn’t be writing this. I can’t seem to go a week without cutting myself. It makes me feel in control again. It makes me feel something. My arms filled with fire engine ladders at any given moment. My legs constantly compiled of rows of crimson perennial flowers blooming from their wounds. The majority of the time, I feel like I’m having a out-of-body experience and crave any sort of affirmation that I’m still alive. I find myself constantly replaying it in my head and trying to change the ending. I try to change the circumstances. Maybe instead of a scared 20 year old, we have a powerful, strong 20 year old that fought back? I’m not sure why I do this, but I’ve read of others who do the same, so here’s the simple answer: replaying a horrible moment of my life and trying to enjoy it or change the ending makes me feel better. It made me feel like I overcame it. Its like being scared of heights and forcing yourself to the top of a building. It’s uncomfortable and you hate it, but it puts the control back into your hands. I want to understand why every microscopic detail happened the way that it did. What did I do wrong? What if I would’ve done x, y, z? I’ve come to realize that silence is sickening and sadness is addictive. Eventually, it comes to a point where the comfort of the darkness leaves you more content than the warmth of the rays. I wake up every morning wishing I hadn’t, yet I don’t have a plan to kill myself. I wish my 2015 attempt would’ve gone through. I think suicide is highly misconstrued. People tell you that things will get better, but they don’t. People tell you you need to speak to a “professional”, but when you do, all they do is try to throw meds at you. Nobody listens anymore. Empathy is nonexistent. Being a therapist is a profession. They listen, but do they feel? I just want people to fucking understand. If you try to kill yourself to relieve your never-ending suffering, you’re “selfish”. The people that try to kill themselves don’t do it out of “hopelessness”. That’s bullshit. Death isn’t suddenly appealing, either. People who kill themselves do so because pain has reached an intolerable, exhausting level similar to those who will eventually jump from a burning building. People who jump from burning buildings are just as terrified of jumping as they always were, but the flames outweighed the fear of falling. Death seems less terrible than the two. Nobody desires to jump from a high platform and splatter on the pavement, but dealing with the flames is worse. Nobody from the sidewalk below who yells, “hang on!” understands the flame. They’re onlookers. Nobody understands the flame except the person feeling its heat. You have no idea what it’s like to feel a terror way beyond falling. 

When you’ve dealt with suicidal thoughts and feel as if every day is monotonous, you know that there are certain things that can bring you back to your old self. 

there’s something that makes you feel alive. (That isn’t self destructive) Little things. Things that make your pupils dilate. Things that keep you hanging on. Your purpose. For me, that’s children. I love helping kids. My eyes glisten. They shine like the sun amid a profusion of malfeasance and tenebrific constellations. A spark of hope in the darkness. I lost everything on April 4th--my dignity, my sense of safety--but on April 5th I gained the world. I gained a passion to help, an appreciation for life, a love of commonly overlooked things. 

It truly is one of those things you have to go through in order to understand, but I hope sharing my story helped you see through the eyes of a survivor. Although its uncomfortable and difficult to comprehend, its important. 

I’m still here. I’m still kicking. I know pain eventually weakens its sting. I have too many reason to stay. I love nature. I want to travel everywhere. I love people. I have a few people in my life that keep me hanging on, & if I gave you the link to read this, you’re one of them. If you’re wondering what you can do to help me, you’ve already done it. You’ve read this far. You know a fraction of my story and you cared enough to stick around until the end. Thank you.

[theroadfromustome]

Mile 78

Yikes it has been over a month since I have updated here. In fact, a month and a half. Gotta get on that--esp. as reflection and processing would very likely benefit me on a regular basis. Stopping (at work again) to document the disquiet I currently feel bc I want to capture it in the moment.

Lots of things have happened; P has happened. He has been a focus of my waking hours; I have been the inhabitant of his embrace and the recipient of his letters when he has been overseas. He has met my son, and is completely charming him. He is beginning the process of sincere, long-term investment in the both of us. This of course stirs my heart in the best of ways, but also I think frightens me on some level. Things have shifted into high gear, and with that my attitude and anxiety have shifted as well.

In the space of time since last I wrote, P and I went on our first excursion together; to D.C. overnight to determine if we could travel together. I experienced the first of his migraines; and had one of my earliest attacks of the inadequacy cycle. I cried in his arms and explained all my fears and he held me and combated them as best he knew how. That time it was: This is a swanky hotel and this is the way he lives all the time. I have never stayed in hotel this nice and this is normal to him. He lives such a sophisticated life; he is a wealthy worldly genius. What does he want with me?

Then, he went to Turkey for a week for work, and wrote while he was gone of course. When he came back I met his parents for the first time; and the second attack of inadequacy hit. My mother was also present; in all of her family drama glory (I said recently that I felt my family was rather like the Bennetts, to which he chuckled and said that was not entirely inaccurate). After this encounter, which admittedly was not exactly a cozy one-on-one chat, his mother was noncommittal when asked about me. This time it was: His mother doesn’t like me. Maybe it’s because I come with so much bloody baggage. Like the fact that I’m still legally married or the fact that I’m going to be a divorcee or my mother’s drama which makes us a family of kooks (are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?!). Again, dear P rallied, dried my tears, and told me that he would choose me over his family if it came to it. And that his mom might just be nervous.

September rolled in and he asked to meet my son. We had the most charming afternoon/evening in which he was everything a woman hopes a man will be to her son and more. He devoted himself to son’s amusement, backed up my disciplinary judgements, and I got to experience the sublime pleasure of having a second adult invested in the care and welfare of my child. There was also the pleasure of being allies in the cause. As I say, son is as besotted as I am. Since, he has made a great many shows of sincere interest and vested concern for son’s well-being. And spoiled him some too, of course.

The next weekend was the sublime weekend when we got to go to NYC. On the train up I got to see him in work mode; which was mildly intimidating, I admit. Not that I didn’t know how brilliant and capable he is. I worked on applications at the same time, and he got to witness that involved process and the level of emotional investment and lack of confidence that entails. To him, surely I make mountains out of molehills; though he never said that, bless him. He was supportive but distracted by work of course. Upon arrival in NYC I felt less of a dolt/child/whathaveyou, and was better accustomed this time to the swankiness of the hotel. We met his cousins, one of whom is one of the few other people who he can be open with and can spend excesses of time with without feeling drained. They are both intelligent and capable and totally kickass; esp cousin A, who is astoundingly intelligent and gives absolutely no fucks. She’s also gorgeous. And P clearly feels a great affinity for her; rather I imagine as I am with certain friends of mine--we just buzz together. And I’m not gonna lie; there were flickers of jealousy--nothing severe, just a smidge of...”wouldn’t he prefer to keep that sort of company.” They can also talk math and computer stuff together, so that... Overall, I am not cosmopolitan and my intelligence is...? Also, I feel like I spend a lot of time talking about James Madison and slavery; gotta get some new material. Anywho, we also did other museums, saw Hamilton (which was indescribably good, and super romantic to share with him) ate fantastic food, met other friends, and generally just had a wonderful time. I think I made a good impression on all friends and family in question, generally pleasant if somewhat dim next to the cousins. I think it was a turning point in the relationship for him; and he definitely felt what he calls “romantic flutterings,” which are a big deal for him.

He left from NYC to go to Turkey for another week of work, and his first night back was all one could wish in the way of romantic reunion. In this wash of emotion, we crossed the love threshold, I told him I loved him, he said “I think I love you too,” because the way he processes is different. This is a BIG ASS deal of course, and part of me is panicking bc certainly this cannot be true, and if it is, how can I know I won’t screw it up? Etc. etc. And indeed may already be sabotaging things. This I want to explore. Then he came to dinner with the whole family! And was a champ about it, but of course this shook my confidence. So this major declaration has come out, and then three days later he’s off to Texas for a few days of work. While he was gone I felt out of sorts, and professionally had a week...well, that doesn’t exactly make you proud of yourself. While I was idling and not being a full adult (mind you, had a sick day with son), he was at day-long conferences for this job that he does well, which interests and challenges him, and in which he is greatly valued and demanded. I do envy that, but also was suddenly struck with a sick sense of worthlessness (you can hear it in the way I phrased that last even). What am I even doing? And look he is capable and adult and excelling and making shittons of money. He has everything under control, all his shit sorted out, the world at his command. And I...?

So that happened; fortunately he only had to experience this insecure moping through text, but I know it is a super unpleasant thing to behold; and it is that old cycle of wanting him to tell me it’s all going to be ok, that I am worthy. Which is not fair to him, nor healthy for me, and I really need to conquer it. Anywho, flash forward to last night, when I had dinner with his family; parents included, and cousin A. Also a family friend from childhood who is six years younger than I am, studying to be a copyeditor, was def. in with mom, and baked a perfect batch of snickerdoodles. (You see how I am wallowing in this? It really just gets to choking me. And I thought I’d made progress. But it is this familiar sick burning sensation in my chest.) The whole family; they’re so effing brilliant and accomplished--what the hell is he doing messing with me? He and cousin A did their genius banter, and I felt the same as I feel now--lump in the throat, tears in my eyes, sense of utter self-loathing; worthlessness. I see them together and I think, surely that’s what he wants in a partner? Someone who is as genius as he himself. How long until he sees me and sees a burdensome dolt? And the expiration date starts flashing again. And I’m trying to be stoic and tell myself that if this isn’t meant to be, it isn’t meant to be. But it yes, will still hurt. And that sick voice says ‘maybe you should back away now,’ and ‘if you end things how will that affect your son?’ I’m frightened I’ve made the wrong decision. What if I can never cope with the gulf between us in capability, intelligence, etc. Have I swapped one inequality for another? Is this strum und drang God trying to tell me this is unhealthy and I need to get out? But this man is so good, the best man I have ever known, surely I must pursue this. Surely this is worth working at. And God knows I don’t want to hurt him because I’ve made poor decisions; I’ve rushed in before I was healthy enough to cope.

And is this all because I put a name on it? Because I admitted that I love him? I’ve raised the stakes and now I’m terrified on some irrational level? He held me and let me cry, talked through things with me, tried to get me to explain what I was afraid of; told me he didn’t need his partner to be as smart as he was, that that’s not what he wants of me. He says “this wouldn’t work if you were dumb, I admit.” He says “I want to be with you because you are kind and take care of me and help me figure out things and we can have fun together.” He seems to think that the way I treat him, care for him, accept and work with him is singular, but certainly it is not. I don’t understand how there are not dozens of women lining up to love him because he is wonderful. So, so wonderful. And God help me, I do love him. I do want him to be happy. But I begin to worry that I am a burden to him. That I’m becoming someone who does drain him. At lows like this I am nothing but my weaknesses; and I sense how unhealthy this is. I don’t want to be plying these underhand tactics; I want to be strong enough to face this head on myself and end this feeling. But it is undeniably true that I am scared; that a voice in me keeps telling me that any second now my behavior is going to scare him off; that he’s going to get annoyed with me and that will be that. I cannot change who I am; I am working on this, truly. He says “you don’t bother me. You don’t have to change.” But some part of my mania can’t believe him. Some part of my mania thinks “yes, you do need to change. Noone wants someone like this. He loves the best strongest version of you. Not the one who whines and mewls about how much she sucks.”

Philosophically I know I need to be strong and kick this thing myself. And it is very familiar; this other woman who seems infinitely better equipped than I, spends time with a man I adore, I spiral into this self-hate fest and then make myself the kind of gargoyle that of course drives him away; makes him want to spend more time with the other woman. This is not because of any actions on his part. So disheartening to see how little progress I have made. And what is the answer? This is bigger than just this thing, clearly. Also a stumbling block to us, which is something I want to get past because I want this to be the good that it can be. But again; this all came after we crossed that major threshold. WHAT is at the root of this and how can I fix it? Nothing else changed. It’s not like he wasn’t brilliant before, not like our jobs or duties changed in any way--”I’m as fair as a I was erwhile.” Yet I act as though a timer has been started; a fuse that is going to end with him walking away. Not that these flutters of inadequacy have not come up before; see earlier in this post.

I don’t like this Sam I am. And I want to be done with it. I will not ruin this. However, I cannot be blind to warning signs. <--Stated for the record. Going to see DD this week to sort through some of this stuff; hopefully some answers. Hmmm...

Is this just the job search? Will I feel better when I get an “adult” job that is fulfilling/challenging to me? (Note: maybe I ought to teach afterall, if I’m going to be miserable and stressed anyway...) Is this because I’ve pushed too far too fast? Am I being honest with myself/him? Has this become unequal and how can I level the playing field? Questions. Questions. Questions.

Unrelated but notable: Was clumsy and told J about P inadvertently. At least now that’s done with but I do feel like a heel. And I hate what he is going through right now. Hope I’ve made the right decision in the end. But really I don’t think that was fully healthy for me. Of course it appears that I am good at making situations unhealthy... Hm....

[busterkeatonfanfic]

Chapter 28

The train creaked to a stop on the Central Station tracks at half past midnight on the 27th of April. The change in speed woke Buster, who had fallen asleep in his clothes in his seat. In the car next to his, the Talmadge women would inevitably be emerging from slumber and would require an additional half-hour for their toilet, fearful of being caught unawares by a camera flashbulb even at this hour. He allowed a porter to fuss with his luggage while he smoked and waited for them. The faint sound of Peg ordering around her own porter came through the door and he added another ten minutes to his wait. He decided he ought to call Caruthers and Norma’s butler to bring the cars and searched out a telephone in the first-class lounge of the station. That accomplished, he stretched out on a cushioned bench and knit his hands behind his head. He was tired and probably more than a little scruffy-looking since it had been about thirty-six hours since his last shave. Still, his plan had always been to show up at Nelly’s apartment and surprise her when they arrived back in town. He just hadn’t expected it to be at this hour. He closed his eyes and smoked some more, debating on the wisdom of frightening her in the dead of night. It would be wiser to wait until morning when he’d slept, shaved, and eaten.

By the time Peg and her daughters made their way toward him with several harangued-looking porters, longing had won out and his mind was made up. The ride home to the Villa with Natalie was quiet. She was dazed and travel-weary and he had nothing to say to her. He helped her into the house, but she wouldn’t let him carry her two most important bags past the threshold of her wing to the house. Just as well. It was now approaching two and he hadn’t given up his scheme. He took a few minutes to brush his teeth, comb his hair, and change into fresh clothes, then slipped down his balcony and off to the garage, making sure that a certain key was secure in his pocket. Caruthers was still busy trundling luggage into the house, but only acknowledged him with a hello and didn’t ask where he was going. Buster figured he knew anyway. He considered for a moment what Natalie might do if she called for him and found him missing. It didn’t scare him enough to stop.

The drive to Nelly’s felt delightfully brief after days on a train and he was almost the sole car on the streets. He parked the Packard a few houses down and walked briskly up to the apartment, hands in his pocket and cap pulled low as always. When he had gone inside and made his way to Nelly’s front door, he debated whether he should knock. It would be the polite thing—he didn’t want to frighten her—but he also didn’t want to wake her neighbors. In the end, he put the key in the door and let himself inside. The apartment was dark and for a couple moments he was panicked that she wasn’t home. He had a sudden image of her in the bed of another man, some faceless extra from United Artists, and his heart took a slight tumble. When he turned on the lamp next to the sofa, though, he was reassured. There was her script and a half-eaten apple on the side table, and the apartment looked like a midden, evidence of recent occupancy.

He turned her bedroom doorknob gingerly and pushed open the door with just as much care. Creeping across the floor so as not to wake her, he turned on her dressing table lamp. In the bed, she sighed and turned over, but didn’t wake.

He knelt next to her bed. “I’m back,” he said, laying a hand on her upper arm.

Nelly murmured again, but didn’t open her eyes.

“It’s me.”

Nelly opened her eyes at last. “Buster?”

“Buster,” he said, grinning in his gladness to see her.

“What time is it?”

“Quarter to three.”

She sat up with a shock of realization. “You said you’d be gone until at least July!”

He stooped to unlace his shoes. “Surprise.”

Nelly laughed, her voice still fogged with sleep. “Oh. This is the surprise.” She yawned and put a hand on his back. “Why are you back so early?”

“On account of me getting mobbed everywhere we went. Told Thalberg we’re doing the rest of the picture on Lot Two. There’s no other way to do it. Can’t say I’m all that fussed about it.” Having kicked off his shoes, he sat on the edge of the bed and cupped Nelly’s cheek. She was wearing her pink nightgown with the lace at the neckline. He leaned in and eagerly sought her mouth.

She cut the kiss short. “I’m sure my breath is terrible. Let me at least find a toothbrush before you have your way with me.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed.

“Oh, is that all you think I think about?” he said, putting on an offended expression.

Nelly raised an eyebrow and grinned. “I know it for a fact.”

He harrumphed at her, but she was right. He already had an erection. He’d gone long stretches without sex before, but had been spoiled since he and Nelly started going together. Consequently, four weeks without now seemed like a lifetime. He unfastened his sock garters and rolled off his socks before flopping down on her bed. He was tired, but could take comfort in the fact that he would have a reprieve from filming tomorrow and that the weekend lay ahead.

Nelly returned to the room, braids over her shoulders, thighs bare and inviting. “How am I sure you aren’t a dream?” she said, getting into bed with him.

“Wouldn’t I have shaved? In your dream?”

She brushed a finger against his stubble. “Maybe, maybe not. Maybe I’m the kind of girl who likes dreams to be as real as possible.”

Buster leaned over and poked a finger into the front of her chemise, pulling the fabric forward and investigating her breasts. “These seem pretty real to me.”

In response, Nelly straddled him and began undoing the buttons of his shirt. He crossed his arms behind his head and surrendered. “You’ll have to tell me all about New York. I never guessed from your letter you’d be back so soon,” Nelly said. She tugged his left arm and then his right out of their sleeves, then rolled up his undershirt. He watched her look him over and knew she was pleased by what she saw. He’d always been secure about his appeal to the opposite sex and knew that they were crazy for him despite his disadvantage when it came to height. Still, this knowledge did nothing to soothe the fact that the one woman on the planet who didn’t think of him that way was his wife.

His thoughts were yanked away from his marriage as Nelly’s finger strayed over one of his nipples. “New York,” he said haltingly, his powers of concentration greatly disrupted.

“You don’t have to speak about it now. I know you’re tired,” said the little temptress, now licking that same nipple.

He groaned helplessly and shifted his hips, which were pinned by Nelly’s weight. She moved her attention to his other nipple and he reached down into her chemise with both hands to grope her breasts. He was as hard as a rock now and shifted his hips again, seeking friction. She lifted her head and pressed her mouth to his, and he frantically unbuttoned his trousers. Breaking the kiss, she stretched forward and opened an unseen drawer beside her bed while he did his best to divest himself of trousers and undershorts. He pulled his knees up to wrestle them off his legs.

“Don’t move,” said Nelly, with a wink. “I know you’re tired.” She settled back down and stroked both hands over his prick, and it took him a good long moment to realize she was putting a prophylactic on him.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” he said, feeling breathless.

“Oh, I pick things up,” she said. She lifted her bottom and eased the head of his prick into her, and he took over from there.

The feel of her was sheer heaven. He held onto her hips and looked up at her as he fucked her. Her eyes were closed and her lips parted. Beneath the chemise, her breasts jounced with every thrust.

“Is it good?” he said, trying to pace himself.

Nelly nodded.

“Good,” he said. He pressed the pad of his thumb into her clitoris and made clockwise circles. She moaned and he flushed with satisfaction. His girl, he thought. To prevent from getting too hot too quick, he spent the next several minutes concentrating on her pleasure, moving his thumb just so and watching her face for signs that she was at the breaking point and soothing himself with a few good thrusts every once and awhile. Eventually, her hips began rocking and her breath became jerky. “Is it good?” he said. “You gonna come for me, baby?”

Again, she nodded. There was a glaze of sweat on her collarbones and across her throat.

The dirty talk seemed to be getting him somewhere, so he pushed it further. “Want you to come. Come for me. Come for me, baby.”

“Buster. Oh God, Buster.” The rocking of her hips hit a frantic pace and she cried out loud enough to wake the neighborhood as she came, stomach clenching and thighs trembling. He kept his thumb moving. “Buster, oh my God, Buster,” she uttered.

When she was done, he seized her hips, gave a few sloppy thrusts, and came with such a violent force that he forgot Nelly’s rule about not making too much noise during sex, shouting so loudly that for the first time there was a startling thump on the other side of the wall.

“Will you kids shut the hell up?” yelled an older man. “It’s three in the god damn morning for crying out loud!”

“Sorry!” Buster called back in the midst of trying to catch his breath, and Nelly’s worried expression melted into mirth.

“Shit,” she said, falling on top of him in a hot, sweaty heap. “I’m never going to be able to look him in the eyes again.”

“Which one is he?” said Buster. He slipped out of her and laid his hand between her shoulders.

“Mr. Hernandez. The one who used to work for the railroad.”

“Just tell him I was taking you for a train ride.”

Nelly giggled. “Will you hush, you wonderful man?”

He drew lazy circles between her shoulders. “No.”

They clung to each other as their breathing went back to normal. He didn’t need to ask if he’d satisfied her or if she was happy he was back. He already knew the answer.

“Are you hungry?” she said after a while.

It had been hours since his last meal. “Starved.”

“I’ll make you some food, but you’ll have to drive me to work tomorrow.”

It was his favorite routine, ravishing her and getting fed afterwards. They put on their underwear and he followed into the kitchen to watch her put together some chicken and cucumber sandwiches for him, and afterwards he fell fast asleep in her bed, the first time he’d ever dared spend the night at her apartment. Her alarm went off a couple hours later and he resisted opening his eyes. He could have slept the weekend away without any problem, as tired as he was from New York and the train. Only the cup of coffee Nelly waved under his nose tempted him to sit up. They crept out of the apartment by seven o’clock and he dropped her off as usual a couple blocks from the UA lot, briefly pecking her on the lips after checking to see that the coast was clear. He drove back to the Villa aware that he looked exactly like a man who’d been sneaking around on his wife, with his wrinkled clothes, mussed hair, and the faint whiff of Nelly’s rosewater on his skin. A part of him dreaded Natalie seeing him that way. He sometimes wondered what it would be like to be confronted by her. Would she be calm and cold? Hysterical and despondent? He couldn’t stand the idea of a woman fooling around on him, certainly not Nate and not Nelly, either. He’d be out of his mind with jealousy. Yet his wife knew perfectly well he had other women, tolerated it even. The only cardinal sin with her was flaunting it or getting attached. Another part of him wanted her to notice it, to be jealous and to wonder who the woman was who was giving him such satisfaction.

In the end, he needn’t have worried. Natalie was sleeping late. Connie had the children indoors and was trying to give them their Friday-morning lessons, but when they saw him they shouted and tore toward him. He was glad to see the rascals and bent to hug them. He played with them for a half hour before retiring to his room for a shower and a shave. Afterwards, he swam laps in the pool for over an hour. By the time Natalie descended the front stairs, he had long since finished brunch and was as neat, pliant, and faithful a husband as she could ever desire.

Notes: Did not realize this chapter would be so, uh, porny, but I suspect you won’t be complaining.

I know Anita Page doesn’t look anything like Nelly, but I felt the general mood of the photograph fits the scene. Can you even imagine? What kind of lover do you think Buster was?

[anavoliselenu]

Heart of stone chapter 19

Surprisingly, shopping for Selena had been rather enjoyable. From sweaters and skirts, to jeans and boots – the possibilities with women’s clothing seemed endless. Looking at various styles and picturing certain items on Selena was an experience unlike any other. I was careful with my selections, keeping her tastes above my own. I wanted her to be pleased with my choices and know that I was keeping her interests in mind. And most importantly, I wanted to show her how much I wanted to take care of her, yet still allow her to maintain her individuality.

 I knew I was taking a risk. Selena might be down right furious once she saw everything that I had bought. But I also knew that she might be more apt to accept my gifts if she knew that I personally selected each item.

 When I arrived home shortly after six, I was pleased to see that the packages from the day’s spree had been delivered and that Vivian already organized my spacious walk-in closet to accommodate the purchases. It was strange to see the colorful array of cottons, silks, and cashmere hanging next to the line of utilitarian colored suits. Yet, I also derived a certain amount of satisfaction over seeing it, as if I had achieved some kind of great accomplishment.

 As I closed the closet doors, the intercom to the penthouse buzzed. I assumed it was Jeffrey letting me know that Selena had arrived, and it irked me that he hit the call button to announce her arrival. I had given him explicit instructions to simply send her up whenever she came to my home.

 “Yes!” I snapped into the intercom.

 “Mr. Stone. Ah…I, um Miss –,” Jeffrey started.

 Just what I thought.

 “Allow Miss Cole into the elevator, Jeffrey. Now please.”

 “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. She’s on her way.”

 I walked away from the intercom speaker, not bothering to thank him. Whatever patience that I had for the bumbling doorman was starting to run thin.

 I waited in the entryway for the elevator to arrive. When the doors opened, my breath caught in my throat. No matter how many times I saw Selena, her beauty took my breath away. Her hair was in a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck, allowing a few stray curls free to frame her delicate face. Her tight jeans and scoop necked sweater accented every flawless curve of her body.

 She was perfect, like a goddess from the heavens. Little had I known that this woman would turn my world upside down when she slipped and fell that day at Wally’s. I wanted her then and I want her even more now – more than I ever wanted any other woman in my life. She was an angel.

 My angel.

 I closed the distance between us in less than a second and scooped her up under the legs to cradle her my arms.

 “Justin! Put me down!” she half scolded and giggled at the same time, swatting at my arm. I ignored her and breathed in the sweet smell of her hair.

 “Mmm…not a chance. I missed you,” I murmured into her ear.

 “Already?” she laughed.

 “Very much,” I admitted before kissing her softly. “You’ve been on my mind all day, angel.”

 “Oh, have I? I can only imagine all of the wicked things you were thinking today.”

 “Miss Cole, you have no idea.”

 I ran my nose down the length of her cheek to nuzzle the sweet spot below her ear. She hummed and closed her eyes, angling her head to the side. I moved back up, savoring the softness of her skin, nipping along the line of her jaw. My teeth grazed her parted lips and I kissed her again, but this time it was long and possessive. She surrendered and gave into my tongue, allowing me to revel in the taste of her.

 “I could get used to greetings like that,” she murmured once I gave her a chance to come up for air.

 “My girl likes being swept off her feet I take it,” I joked.

 I felt her stiffen in my arms.

 “I guess I do,” she said with a small smile. However, her grin didn’t quite reach her eyes, and I knew that she was thinking metaphorically about what I had said.

 “I was only messing around, Selena. After all, I did quite literally sweep you off of your feet.”

 “I know,” she said, planting a placating kiss on my cheek. I set her down, and if I wasn’t mistaken, I thought she looked relieved. Her sudden change of demeanor was perplexing.

     “You okay?”

 “I’m sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I think I’m just tired, that’s all. Somebody wore me out last night.”

 “I didn’t hear any complaints,” I said with a wink.

 “Oh, not at all. But I’ll have to admit, the day is finally catching up with me. I’d love to just lounge on the couch for a little while. Maybe watch a movie? What do you say?”

 A movie?

 Lying on the couch and watching a movie with a woman was foreign to me, yet it provoked some very interesting ideas. The thought of getting Selena horizontal had me readily agreeing.

 “I’m game for that. But first, I have something for you. Come with me.”

 I took her hand and led her into the bedroom. When we reached the closet doors, I paused before opening them. I was thrilled at the chance to give Selena her surprise, but I was nervous about it too.

 What if this is a mistake?

 I thought of the way her new clothes looked hanging next to mine. For me, it was simply a gift, one that I was anxious to give her. However, Selena had a tendency to look too much into things, and I was afraid of how she might perceive the appearance of my closet.

 Maybe I shouldn’t show her this. Not yet.

 “What is it?” she asked.

 Her question tore me away from the indecisive meanderings.

 I shook my head to clear it, feeling uncomfortable with the way I seemed to be questioning my every move as of late. I have always been confident in my choices, yet I seemed to stumble over the smallest of decisions surrounding Selena and it was starting to wear on me. I didn’t like it. Not one bit.

 Get your shit together and just give her the damn clothes!

 “It’s here. In my closet,” I told her.

 I opened the doors and gestured her inside. She stopped when she reached the threshold, not having to venture any further to see what was plainly before her. I saw her visibly blanch, in what I could only assume to be shock, before she slowly turned to face me. Our eyes locked, and hers were flashing with accusation.

 I should have waited.

 “Justin, you said that you had something for me. These are things. As in plural. Very plural.”

 Her voice was strained and I could tell that she was trying to keep her temper in check.

 “I just wanted you to have a choice, that’s all,” I tried to shrug off.

 She got quiet, unusually so. By the way she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, she appeared agitated. She attempted to tuck a curl behind her ear, but it sprang free again. I reached up to do it for her, but she jerked her head away so that I couldn’t. I dropped my hand to my side, knowing that she was just as angry as I feared she would be.

 She cast her eyes down, seeming to stare at some invisible speck on the carpet. Occasionally, her eyes would dart back up to her new wardrobe, but then down again as if she couldn’t bare the sight. Her silence was vexing, but I held my tongue, waiting for her to break it first.

 “I wish you didn’t do this,” she eventually whispered.

 “I wanted to,” I stated simply.

 She looked up at that, sticking out a stubborn chin.

 “What if I don’t want to accept?”

 I pursed my lips in annoyance, trying not to feel insulted over her rejection. I took a deep breath, reminding myself that Selena responded best to brutal honesty.

 “You’re not getting it, Selena. I want to buy you things. I want to take care of you. It’s a need that I can’t explain,” I told her, trying to sound as earnest as possible. “It makes me happy to do so, as I so discovered today. This is just something that you’ll have to get used to.”

 “Look, I appreciate it, but it’s you that isn’t getting it. A week ago we were both saying no strings attached. All of this is a whole lot of strings,” she said, motioning to the clothes with her hand.

 I chuckled at her unintentional pun, trying to keep the mood light. I was just grateful that she was talking again.

 “Angel, it’s only clothes.”

 “It’s more than clothes to me. It’s what it symbolizes.”

 “I understand your hesitation. And to be perfectly honest, I don’t know what possessed me to do it. I’ve never personally gone shopping for a woman before, not even for my sister. It was just…” I struggled trying to find the right words to explain my compulsion. “It was just something that I wanted to do. Accepting would make me very happy.”

 Her face looked pained, as if she were suffering from some sort of internal battle. She looked at me, eyes full of uncertainty, before walking into the closet and running her hand up and down the sleeves of the hanging blouses.

 “You shopped for all of this by yourself?”

 “Sort of. Hale may have had a thing or two to say about some of the stuff I bought.”

 Her head snapped around so fast that it threatened whiplash. Her eyes were round with apparent disbelief, but then she let out a loud and genuine laugh. The sound was infectious and music to my ears.

 “You two must have been such a sight!”

 I crossed my arms and smirked at her.

 “Are you laughing at me, Miss Cole?”

 “I would never dare,” she retorted.

 Her eyes twinkled, a sure sign that I was on my way to securing the win.

 “Does this mean that you’ll accept my gift?”

 “I suppose I could,” she mused the consent.

 I hesitated before dropping the next bomb on her.

 “I hope so, because this isn’t all of it.”

 Her shoulders slumped and she shook her head back and forth.

 “No more gifts, Justin,” she implored.

 “You said you’d accept. What’s next is just part of the package.”

 “Please. No,” she tried to deny, but I ignored her pleads.

 I went over to the dresser and picked up the small gift-wrapped box that I had left sitting there. When I turned back to face her, there was no describing the look of horror that spread across her face. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the package that was in my hand.

 I looked from her to the box, then back up at her. And then it dawned on me.

 “Chill out, baby. If I was going to propose, I’d do it better than this,” I said dryly. “Just open it.”

 I thrust the cube shaped box into her hand, annoyed that this was going so badly.

 A blush crept over Selena’s cheeks. I was fairly certain that her embarrassment over jumping the gun was the only thing that kept her mouth shut while she went to work on opening the package.

 Carefully, she pulled at the satin bow and slid her fingernail across the tapeline to unwrap it. Inside the box, nestled in a royal blue pillow, lay the necklace that I had a local jeweler custom craft for her.

 “Justin, it’s beautiful,” she said in awe. She ran her fingers across the platinum interlocked spiral emblem and over the three smooth sapphires that were placed in the surrounding circle. She looked up at me and smiled.

 Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!

 Confident that she wasn’t going to argue with me about the necklace, I released a sigh of relief.

 “It’s a triskelion, or at least a variation of one,” I told her. “Some people call it a triskele.”

 “What’s a triskele?”

 “It’s a symbol of the BDSM community.”

 “Oh. Well, um…” she hesitated and her smile faltered. “Am I…to wear this? I mean, don’t get me wrong – it is truly a beautiful necklace. I’m just not too keen on advertising my new-found interests.”

 “Don’t worry,” I lightly laughed. “The triskelion symbol has many meanings actually, depending on who you ask. Most people you encounter will think it means something entirely different. I personally believe that may be why the BDSM community adapted it. Look it up one day, Selena. You may be intrigued by it’s history.”

 “How so?”

 “BDSM may be a subject that is never talked about, but many aspects of it are often in plain sight. Here, let me put in on you.”

 I reached to take the box from her hands. I could still see the apprehension on her face, but she didn’t argue when I secured the clasp around the back of her neck. The emblem rested perfectly against her smooth skin, accenting the flawless swell of her breasts.

 “Well, whatever the symbol is, you have impeccable taste. I love it, Justin. Thank you.”

 “I’m glad you do. That will make it easier to give you the last surprise.”

 “Justin,” she said in a warning tone. “I said thank you for the necklace, not the clothes. I’m still not sure what to think about those, let alone a third surprise.”

 “It’s nothing, really. This one is more meant as a joke than anything else. Open the top drawer for my dresser.”

 She eyed me suspiciously, but did as I instructed.

 “What’s this?” she asked after she peered at the contents.

 “Replacement underwear for the ones that I ripped off you. Remember?”

 I flashed her a devilish smile, recalling the night that I tore the black lace from her hips. The image of doing that again caused a stirring in my groin.

 “Oh, I can certainly remember! But this is more than a replacement – there’s got to be at least ten pair in here!”

 “A dozen to be exact,” I moved over to her and circled my arms around her slim waist. I leaned down to whisper in her ear. “So that means, I get to rip them off of you twelve more times.”

 I felt her shiver in my arms, and I knew then that I had truly won. I reached down to cup her behind, pulling her hips tighter against me.

 “Twelve more times, huh?”

 Her words sounded breathy already and I hardened in response.

 “Yep,” I confirmed, nipping at her ear. I trailed a line down her neck, feeling the beat of her pulse beneath her skin. My hands found the hem of her sweater, and I slid them up her back to undo the clasp of her bra.

 “Well then,” she started, but then paused to moan when I found one of her nipples. “We should, ah…we should get to work on that.”

 “I thought you wanted to watch a movie.”

 I rolled her taut peaks around between my thumbs and forefingers, flicking them softly while I did so.

 “The movie can wait,” she breathed.

 “Yes, it can,” I agreed, relishing in every response she had to my touch. I stepped away and reached into the drawer to retrieve one of the lace thongs. I looped it around my finger and held it out for her to take. “I think you need to go put on a pair of these so that we can test their durability.”

 “I’ll be right back,” she promised, taking the panties from me.

 After Selena disappeared into the bathroom, I went to the stereo to select a playlist for inspiration.

 Something darker I think.

 I wanted to show Selena something new tonight, to take her to a place that she hasn’t been. Selecting music that I thought was appropriate for what I had in mind, I turned back to the bed. Reaching up, I began to unlock the latches that held the crossbars in place for the St. Andrews cross.

 Once I was satisfied that everything was secure, I fished keys out of my pocket and headed over to my private closet to retrieve the leather cuffs that I would need. However, I was stopped midstride when I heard Selena cry out from the bathroom.

 “Oh, no!”

 She exited the bathroom looking like she might cry.

 “What? What’s wrong?” I asked, completely alarmed by her outburst.

 “I have my period.”

Justin started laughing like it was the funniest thing that he’d ever heard. I, on the other hand, was thoroughly annoyed,

 “This isn’t funny, Justin!”

 “Well, it does put a damper on my plans for you, but it’s your reaction that’s making me laugh.”

 He laughed harder when I scowled at him. I reached for one of the satin throw pillows that was on the bed and threw it at him.

 “You’re such an ass,” I told him, although my words didn’t carry any true venom. I too was fighting off a smile.

 “I take it that you’re surprised by your monthly friend?”

 “Sort of. I started getting a headache this afternoon. That’s usually a warning that it’s coming.” I frowned, feeling somewhat chagrinned over my negligence to the matter. “I really should keep better track, but since I wasn’t having sex until recently, I guess I didn’t see the necessity. I’m sorry.”

 “Don’t apologize for nature, Selena. It’s not your fault.”

 “I suppose, but that doesn’t change the fact that our night is ruined. No point in me staying over now.”

 “Don’t be ridiculous!” he exclaimed, as if it was the most absurd thing he had ever heard. “There are other things we can do besides have sex.”

 “Like what? That’s the only thing we do!”

 I tried to say it with a laugh, but it sounded forced. I was all revved up with nowhere to go. I wanted nothing more than to sit in a corner and pout for the remainder of the night.

 This sucks.

 Justin came over to where I was standing, his expression stoic as he pulled me into his arms.

 “You really should give us a bit more credit, Selena. Do you still have a headache now?” he asked.

 “Yeah, just a little one though.”

 “Well, let’s see what we can do about that. Shall we?”

 He released his arms from my waist and took hold of my hand. Leading me into the bathroom, he opened up the linen closet and began searching for something. I expected him to pull out aspirin for me, but instead he produced a bottle of bubble bath and scented oil.

 “What are you doing?” I asked curiously.

 “My grandmother used to say that the best cure for a headache was a hot bath. So, my angel, that’s what you’re going to have.”

 He went over to the massive, sunken marble bath and began to run the water. Unscrewing the cap for the bubbles, he began to slowly pour the thick soap into the water, mixing it with the scented oil. Before long, a soft smell of lavender and vanilla filled the room.

 “You know, if your trying warm me up to the idea of you taking care of me, it’s working.”

 He flashed me one of those sexy grins that I loved so much.

 “I must say – you certainly make me work for it,” he said lightly. He leaned in to plant a tender kiss on my forehead. “I’ll give you a minute of privacy so you can get into the bath. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

 Once I was alone, I had a minute to digest the unexpected. The impromptu bath that Justin had drawn for me was sweet – remarkably so. It was the exact sort of thing that Justin said he wasn’t capable of, and the same thing that I told him I wasn’t looking for.

 Teddy bears and roses.

 If the perfumed bubble bath wasn’t the definition of teddy bears and roses, then I didn’t know what was.

 An uncomfortable feeling began to form in my stomach, and I tried to ignore it as I undressed. After removing my clothing, I wrapped myself in a towel and stood in front of the vanity mirror. My cheeks looked flushed from the swelling steam in the bathroom and my hair was growing bigger by the minute. I hastily pulled it up into a messy bun on top of my head and secured it with a rubber band that I had around my wrist.

 Satisfied that my hair would stay put, I made my way over the bath. Seeing that it was almost filled, I reached down to turn off the faucet.

 Once the noise of the running water was silenced, I noticed that music was coming from somewhere. I looked around and saw that little speakers were strategically built right into the walls of the bathroom. The sound was soothing, fitting to the serene environment that Justin had created for me.

 However, despite the luxury that I was surrounded with, I still felt anxious and I wasn’t sure why.

 It’s because he’s breaking down your defenses.

 I dismissed the bothersome voice in my head immediately, determined to just enjoy the moment.

 It’s like I told Ally – live for today. Just take it as it comes.

 I stepped into the bath that was fit for a god, and sunk down into its sweet foam. Leaning back, I appreciated a few minutes of uninterrupted relaxation.

 When Justin returned, he was carrying two glasses of wine and was wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. The lines of his abs rippled when he bent to set the glasses down on the ledge of the bath. I wanted to reach out and run my hands over his muscular contours, but stopped myself when I remembered why I couldn’t.

 “Justin, I’m sorry. But if you have plans to join me, I can’t when I have my –,” I started.

 “Relax, Selena. I have no expectations. Tonight, it’s all about you. Now slide up in the tub,” he ordered.

 I hesitated for a moment, but then did as I was told.

 Justin dimmed the lights so that there was only a soft glow about the room, adding to the tranquility. When he shamelessly dropped his towel, I found myself blushing for some unknown reason. I cast my eyes down, not wanting to brazenly ogle while he climbed in behind me.

 Once he was settled, he procured matches from somewhere and lit the candles that were placed in the corners of the marble surround. Pulling me back against him, I had little choice but to settle in.

 After a moment or two, he began to massage the muscles in my shoulders. A sigh of appreciation escaped me as I sipped on a delightfully sweet white wine and absorbed the music. I literally felt like a queen being pampered.

 “This song that’s playing...it’s really good. Who is it?” I asked, curious about the female artists sensual lyrics and textured contemporary sound.

 “It’s called “Breathe” by Of Verona. It’s on one of the playlists that I made for you.”

 “Oh, I didn’t realize. But then again, I haven’t had a chance to listen to all the songs yet.”

 “That’s a shame, but it might explain why I still have to try so hard to coerce you,” he laughed.

 “What do you mean?”

 “This particular song is on the Surrender playlist.”

 “I see,” I mused, suddenly very intrigued by what Justin hoped to accomplish with his playlists. “I’ll make a point to listen to them all soon.”

 “Actually, it’s okay if you don’t. I like seeing your reactions when you hear a song that you like. You’re very responsive to music.”

 “I know. It’s hard to explain. It’s like I can feel music, if that makes any sense,” I told him.

 Justin shifted his position slightly, causing his manhood to brush against my backside. The seductive music alone was doing a fine job of provoking my already heightened sexual ache – the last thing I needed was to feel that. A shiver of desire raced down my spine.

 “Is the water too cool?” Justin asked, seeming oblivious as to why I had quivered. I gave myself a lecture in an attempt to ignore the longing that I felt.

 Focus on the massage. Tune out the music. Just disregard the feel of his body.

 That’s wet and warm.

 And slick with bath oils.

 “No, the water is fine. Perfect actually,” I said, my voice sounding slightly higher pitched than normal. It was a real struggle to focus exclusively on the kneading of his phenomenal hands on my shoulders.

 “Hmm, yes. This is nice,” he agreed easily, but he seemed distracted.

 I glanced up at him. He looked lost in thought, and totally unaware of the torment I was experiencing.

 “What are you thinking about?”

 “Actually, I was thinking about this weekend. If the weather holds out, I thought maybe we could go out on my boat on Saturday.”

 “You have a boat?” I asked, seizing the opportunity to break the progression of my salacious thoughts.

 “Yes, I do. It might be the last chance we have to use her too. I don’t expect to have many more days of good weather.”

 “I don’t think I’d be much fun out on your boat. Frank used to take me fishing on Rensselaer Lake when I was a kid. I would always get seasick.”

 I could feel his chest vibrate with a low chuckle.

 “I’m sure my boat and the water conditions are quite a bit different than being out on Frank’s fishing boat. But don’t worry. I can get you a bracelet for seasickness if you need it. And there’s always a motion sickness pill, although I’m not a huge fan of them.”

 I watched the steam furl in the air above the tub and contemplated the likelihood of getting seasick. After a while, the lazy swirls were mesmerizing and I began to fully relax for the first time since Justin joined me in the tub. It seemed silly to fret over whether I may or may not get sick aboard his boat.

 “Whatever you say,” I agreed easily.

 Content to just appreciate the moment, I closed my eyes and breathed in the soft scent of the billowing moist air that surrounded us.

 Justin continued to knead the muscles in my neck and shoulders. When his hands moved down to massage my arms, I was starting to get drowsy with sleep. However, my eyes snapped open when I felt his fingertip brush over one of my nipples. I couldn’t be sure if it was by accident or not. However, when he skimmed over it a second time, I sharply sucked in a breath, knowing that it wasn’t merely happenstance. My nipples hardened in response, just aching to be touched, a painful reminder of what could not happen.

 Slipping both hands under my arms, he captured both breasts and I realized how heavy they felt. Yet, despite their fullness, his gentle rolling of the ultra sensitive points began communicating to another part of my body. Unfortunately, that area was currently wearing a do not disturb sign.

 It was like torture of the worst kind.

 “Oh, why couldn’t my period have come tomorrow?” Frustration gripped me and made the rhetorical question sound like a whine.

 “Shh…don’t talk, Selena.”

 He tilted his head forward and began trailing kisses up and down my neck. His teeth tugged at my earlobe, causing a shiver to race down my spine. I could feel his erection growing and pulsing against my lower back, a sure sign that he would soon have a frustration to match my own.

 “Justin, you’re making this worse,” I moaned. He moved his hands down my belly, coming precariously close to the mark before I stopped him by squeezing my thighs together.

 “Open your legs for me, Selena.”

 “You know I can’t.”

 “You can,” he persisted. Shifting his legs so that they came over the top of mine, he locked his ankles around mine. In one swift motion, he spread our legs out together. Water sloshed out onto the floor.

 “You’re making a mess,” I scolded, hoping to distract him from whatever it was that he had planned.

 “You really are a terrible submissive,” he murmured into my ear. Moving his hand back down to my waist, his finger circled my belly button before traveling farther south to find my sweet spot.

 “Or maybe…” I began, trying one last time to divert him from the inevitable. “Maybe I just have a bad teacher.”

 “Hmm,” he growled. “Don’t remind me.”

 Without warning, he pressed down on my clitoris. I could feel the nub instantly begin to pulse beneath his finger and I cried out. I arched my back, trying to squirm out of his reach, but my efforts were in vain. He still had my legs trapped and one arm secured tightly around my waist. There was nowhere for me to go.

 “Justin…” I tried to plead. However, my attempt to stop him was halfhearted. Despite my reservations, I craved his touch with every fiber of my being.

 “Trust me for a minute and just let yourself feel, Selena.”

 Ever so gently, he began to flick back and forth, teasing my pressure point. I was amazed at how quickly Justin had learned my body. He knew all the places that brought me the greatest pleasure, and he used that knowledge to make me crazy with need time and time again.

 Angling my head up, I looked at him. His blue eyes were blazing with so much heat that I had little choice but to surrender. I reached to pull his head down to meet mine, and gave myself over with abandon.

     ****

     I lay curled up against Justin’s side, listening to his even breathing while he slept. However, sleep was evading me, as the past few hours had been playing like a tiresome broken record over and over again in my head.

 Overall, our evening had been amazing in ways that were indescribable. Justin had unselfishly satisfied me without taking anything for himself. From the erotic pleasures he rewarded me with in the bath, to the way he carried me to bed for the night – he was true to his word and made our night together all about me. I couldn’t have asked for anything to be more perfect.

 But despite the seamless end to the evening, I couldn’t help but to remember how it started out. Justin was slowly tipping the scales in his favor, and it was terrifying.

 I was apprehensive about the slew of woman’s clothing that hung in his closet, clothes that I could not bring myself to think of as mine. I had concerns over accepting the necklace, which I was sure cost a small fortune. And while the clothes and the necklace may simply be material things, it was hard not to think of them as something more.

 I glanced down at the emblem that was still hanging around my neck. The sapphires sparkled, reflecting the moonlight that was streaming in through the windows. It was a beautiful piece, but I knew it would probably be best if I gave it back to him. It may be a symbol of the BDSM world, but to me it was more like Justin was putting his stamp on me, serving as another reminder of how fast we were taking things. We were moving at a breakneck speed, and it was more that just a little bit troubling.

 Just that very morning, I promised Allyson that I wouldn’t get in too deep. In fact, it wasn’t just an assurance that I gave to Allyson, but it was personal vow that I had made to myself. Yet here I was, ready to blindly fall. I couldn’t shake the nagging worry that I still may be subconsciously clinging to the hope of someday finding that white picket fence.

 The idea made me feel edgy. Restless.

 I rolled over, facing myself away from Justin. He stirred but didn’t wake. I punched at the pillow, but my efforts to get comfortable were not working.

 Happily ever after will never happen, Cole.

 After all, I was the one to set the rules. I had been blatantly clear about no strings attached. The time that I was spending with Justin was supposed to be a small step to putting the past behind me, not some massive leap that would leave me fumbling to find my footing again.

 I flipped over onto my back and stared at the ceiling.

 There was still too much that Justin didn’t know about me, and I barely knew a thing about him. He lived in a clandestine world of kink and sex clubs, where everything was one giant secret that I couldn’t be privy to. He spoke of domination, and that it was my duty to submit to his every need. But what he said that he wanted was confusing to me, as his actions showed differently. He catered to my every whim, striving to please me at every step, while I gave him nothing but push back out of fear that he would eventually change me.

 However, I was able to see the shift in Justin during the short time that we were together, and I was very conscious of the fact that it was me who was unintentionally changing him. Whether he was aware of what was happening or not, no good could come from it either way.

 What had begun on shaky ground was shaping up to be something more – something that I didn’t want. And I was fairly certain that Justin didn’t want it either. I felt like I was being pushed, lost in a colossal storm of emotions that I wasn’t ready to feel. I knew it was time to take a giant step back. If I didn’t, I sensed that it wouldn’t be long before I slipped and fell from the ledge.

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