#same with their skiing holidays like would i rather go on a girls trip to berlin or sit in a hotel for a week while everyone goes skiing?🧐

[babygirlracing]

My family in law goes on a bi annual diving trip around my birthday and every time they get borderline offended that i want to spend my birthday with my friends and family instead of on a boat doing nothing all day because diving scares the living shit out of me.. like????

[crescenthoax]

a nightmare before Christmas.

🎄or an Annika, Floris, Willa and targtowers Christmas tale🌟

Part one

Part two

Parth three

Summary: Aemond, Daeron, Aegon and Helaena had different things planned for Christmas, but one same fate: their father’s old cabin.

Basically an i’m never gonna love again christmas modern AU because we need to spread some joy on these times and I wanted to write something fun. Mainly centred around Aegon x Female OC.

This is part 1/3. Part 2 coming soon.

🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

“Skiing isn't exactly my strong suit, and you guys know it,” a sharply depressed Floris sighs, watching Annika and Helaena packing as if they were going to the space for five months rather than the Targaryen retreat ski cabin in Aspen. “I thought we agreed that this year would be just the three of us for Christmas. No parties, just peace and quiet.”

“And that's why it's a perfect plan,” Helaena reminds her, with an ear-to-ear smile, something quite uncharacteristic of her occasionally too melancholic personality. Helaena flops down beside her on the bed. “I know you're sad about Aemond, but there's no reason for you to shut yourself in during the holidays. If you don't want to go home, then let's go to Aspen for Christmas.”

“Do you remember our trip to Aspen for graduation?” Annika intervenes. Floris shakes her head; everything was very blurry. “Exactly! And we had fake IDs that weren't accepted at three out of five places. Now it's all legal, babe. Plus, I'm tired of getaways to big cities. I want peace and wildness at the same time.”

“Odd,” Helaena deduces. “What Annika means is that we're going to have a good time. We'll have hot chocolate and all those Christmas things without necessarily the suffocating party Annika's father organizes every forsaken year. By the way, what did you tell him to not go home this year?”

She looks at her nails disinterestedly while appearing thoughtful. “They're busy with the baby, you know. And I think Rhys will go this year, so they won't really miss me much.”

“You usually like going home for the holidays,” Floris insists, knowing that since the moment Annika suggested they stay in the United States instead of going back to London, something must have happened. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, of course. I just don't want to go back this year. You don't want to run into Aemond, Helaena wants to create new traditions, and I want to drink until I lose consciousness and have a sugar high from eating so many s'mores. Whatever happens first.”

Helaena and Floris exchange a glance that she doesn't overlook. “But you haven't wanted to go home since your birthday.”

“Oh, there are just too many ghosts,” she quickly lies. “You know, with my mother's death and all.”

Her father remarrying didn't really affect Annika. Or at least, she never let it show much. Helaena and Floris know when she uses her mother's death as an excuse and to take advantage of people; she always did, and she always will. No one questions a girl's grief for her mother. Annika knows it well.

And they know it's her way of dealing with the situation, even though she doesn't talk about it. So, they let her be. Whatever it is, she'll say it in her own time.

“If you say so...”

“This will be something good,” Annika repeats. “A girls' Christmas. Just us three. No families, no responsibilities, no men. Just us.”

* 🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

Willa wrinkles her nose, watching as Daeron struggles to close the door of the huge truck, bags strategically positioned as if it were a game of Tetris.

“I can't believe you convinced me to do this,” she says, a grimace of both distress and regret forming on her face. “I mean, are you sure no one from your family will notice you're not at the boarding school?”

He laughs. “My mother has three more children, and my father has even more children and grandchildren to fill that void. Trust me when I tell you they won't notice that I'm gone. We'll show up for New Year's Eve, I'll introduce you to them, and they won't even remember that we didn't spend Christmas with them.”

“I don't like that plan,” she admits. Daeron finally manages to close the truck after much effort and lets out a grunt. He shakes his hands, then gives Willa a kiss on the forehead.

“Believe me, you'll be more than glad to miss Mr. Lannister's Christmas party. They're basically the land where time stands still, and a vortex opens up and sucks out all your energy,” he explains. “I had the best Christmas of my life last year with your family than any Christmas I've had before.”

She squirms uncomfortably. “Sometimes you make me think you hate your family, Daeron. And I get it, but you can't... I'm sure they love you a lot.”

“I know they do. But, as I told you, Christmas is not really important, and I want to spend it with you. I want us to have a good time before I take you to my family on New Year's and you run in the other direction.”

“If we survived that weekend at your older brother's apartment...”

Daeron shudders as if just the thought of it produces secondhand embarrassment. “Don't remind me. I don't know how to apologize for that. The good news is you won't have to see him again, ever.”

He opens the door for Willa to get in and doesn't wait for a response as he goes around the truck to get into the passenger seat, leaving her with the words on her lips.

“If it helps, I didn't dislike your brother,” she says. “Is he not spending New Year's at your house with all of us?”

“I don't think so. The last time I was home, he was acting too strange. I mean, stranger than usual,” he explains, eyes fixed on the road.

“When was it? Spring?”

“I think so. Yes, yes. I remember because my mother was furious with him for not showing up to Floris's birthday dinner, you know, my brother Aemond's girlfriend. He didn't even go to the party afterward, and he never misses a party.”

“Did he say why?”

“No, he didn't really say anything. I asked Helaena, and she told me Aegon had been in New York a few weeks before but never dropped by to visit her. Aemond thinks he's doing drugs,” he says calmly, then opens his eyes when Willa looks at him horrified. “Oh, no, he's not a drug addict. He’s just the occasionally drunk, harmless brother. His life is not in danger. Aegon has always been like this. He'll be back when he gets over it.”

She scratches her neck, uncomfortable. “The holidays can be triggers for many people, you know?”

“I'm sure Aegon is at a resort in Miami Beach, passed out with a piña colada in his hand and some girl tangled in his sheets as we speak. He's living his best life,” he downplays. “You'll see. Everything will be fine. Plus, we'll get to enjoy some time alone. Don't you like the idea?”

Willa sighs, resigned.

“If I had a family as big as yours...”

“You are my family now,” he finally drops, like a bucket of ice-cold water running down her back and leaving her breathless for a moment. “It's just you and me. And I prefer it very much this way.”

* 🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

Aegon groans as he feels a boiling sensation behind his throat, and his mouth automatically fills with saliva, anticipating the vomit that he will never let out. He straightens up quickly, holding his breath to calm his body while everything spins around him.

When he finally makes sense of what's happening, he realizes he has fainted in the kitchen. He leans his back against the wooden shelf, just like when he was little and used to hide while playing with his brothers and nephews and the rest of his family.

He hears footsteps entering the kitchen, echoing on the tiles, but he doesn't bother to lift his gaze; he already knows who it is.

“I didn't expect you to be up so early.”

“Brother,” Aegon grumbles again, getting up from the floor with so much difficulty that sometimes it seems like his youth is just a memory. He looks around confused. “Where’s Melody?”

“You mean Mallory,” he corrects. “Well, she came home with you. I think you guys did it on the couch and the kitchen floor. And she left early.”

Aegon smiles, the memories of the previous night a bit clearer. “Oh, right. And her friend? What was her name? God, I don't think we should go back to that place ever again. Although I don't think they'll let us in.”

“She slept in my bed and left with Mallory early in the morning. I called someone to clean up this mess you left, mess you cannot make again because it’s fucking December 23th and no one will ever come to clean your shit up on Christmas. Now, we have to go to the city, so I suggest you change and dress decently.”

Aegon cracks all the joints in his body without understanding his younger brother's bad mood. He has done everything to get him through his breakup; he took him to the best clubs all over Europe, to Las Vegas, and even agreed to accompany him to an independent film Aemond wanted to watch, consuming large amounts of Adderall to stay awake out of boredom.

No one knows what happened between Floris and Aemond. They were a strange but simple pair; both middle children, introverted, and constantly trying to overachieve. The pride of their families, with a perfect life. Their love was born in the sandbox when they were both children, all the way through high school and what they've made of college, and everyone thought they would continue like that, getting married and having children. After all sandbox love never really dies.

Apparently, everyone was wrong.

In other circumstances, Aegon would have simply called Helaena and asked if she knew exactly what happened; what was so terrible that had Aemond so tense and more unbearably suffocating than usual, but...

“Why do we have to go downtown?” Aegon asks as Aemond hurries to make coffee. The sound of the machine drills into his head; he’s pretty sure his hangover has hangover at this point.

“Because, Aegon, your little girlfriend stole Mom's crystal reindeer,” he mutters with annoyance. “I can't believe you brought me here to fuck any girl stupid enough to fall for your charms and brought her back home completely unconscious. What if I hadn't been here?”

“I think I can take care of myself, Aemond. I've been alive for twenty-four years without your help,” the older one mutters with annoyance. “I brought you here so you could fuck any girl in a miniskirt and forget about your ex-girlfriend. But you're not taking advantage of it.”

Aemond clenches his hands into fists, his knuckles slightly white. “I don't need to fuck anyone to forget about her.”

“What you need is to skip Jason Lannister's insipid party and not go home where the primary topic of conversation will be your relationship with Miss Baratheon’s wake. Believe me, I'm doing you a favour. I've been in your place.”

Aemond laughs. “When have you ever had a meaningful relationship with someone?”

“I don't mean that. I mean I've been a victim of the scrutiny of London's elite.”

“Well, you brought it on yourself after getting drunk and getting into a fight with Dalton Greyjoy at Helaena's debutante ball,” his brother reminds him.

Aegon sighs; it's pointless to explain why he got into a fight with Greyjoy at Helaena's debutante ball. He just learned to live with the label of an alcoholic and violent person and made it his own so that they couldn't hurt him with it.

Oh, and he destroyed any political/professional ties between the Greyjoys and the Targaryens. But that's not exactly a tale fit for Christmas.

“Is Helaena going to the party?” he asks, changing the subject as he opens a beer can under the disapproving gaze of his younger brother. “You have only one eye, and it feels like you have six. Can you relax a bit? I'm on vacation.”

“Your life is a vacation,” Aemond hisses bitterly. “I really don't believe it. She said she planned to stay in New York with Floris and Annika.”

“Is Annika not going to her father's party?”

Aemond shrugs, sipping his coffee. “We didn't go into that much detail; she just said they would stay in New York. She says Floris likes it there, so...”

Aegon smirks maliciously. “I bet Annika is taking her to every possible club to get her fucked and forget about you.”

“Do you have to be so unpleasant all the damn time?” Aemond questions. “She wouldn't do that. Unlike you, Annika knows her and knows she needs other things.”

“Hey, I accompanied you to that horrible movie and saved you from the funeral-party. We'll spend Christmas in a hot tub drinking and eating with some chicks. What more do you want from me?”

Aemond frowns, the last good eye though a bit less harsh, always alert and in disagreement with his words. However, Aegon knows that beneath all that calm and collected facade, he is suffering.

And he doesn't like to see his brother suffer unless he is the one causing it.

“Nothing, Aegon. I don't want anything from you, nor do I expect it,” he replies with annoyance, leaving his empty cup in the sink. “Get dressed. We leave in ten minutes. And you'll pay for those expensive shitty reindeer.”

“Fair enough.”

* 🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

The cold air hits Annika's face, and tosses her golden curls around. She brushes the hair stuck to her lip gloss off her face with annoyance, and her body shivers under all the layers of winter clothing. Her frozen hands tremble as she locks the car door.

“I won't drive in this weather ever again,” she mutters under her breath, striding towards the house porch with long steps, trying not to slip on the ice-covered stones. Helaena and Floris laugh at her from the door. “What?”

“That footwear is a bit impractical, don't you think?” Helaena remarks teasingly.

She looks at her boots without understanding. “They're my Moschino Black Faux Fur Snow Boots.”

“They have fur,” Helaena points out, amused.

“No animals were harmed in the making of these boots,” she retorts, struggling up the stairs. “Stop criticizing me for actually having style and open the door for me, will you? My ass is freezing.”

“Perhaps don't wear those boots outside again. You're going to slip,” Floris recommends, catching Annika's arm to help her with the last steps while Helaena finishes opening the door.

When they enter the cabin, they head straight to Helaena's enormous bedroom amid laughter. The cabin is huge but cozy, with a room for each family member. Floris tries to ignore the fact that she knows by heart the door to Aemond's room and everything inside.

Annika gets rid of her clothes and turns on the heating, trying to warm up. “Does anyone remember how to make hot chocolate?”

“You have the recipe book in the kitchen,” Floris reminds her.

Annika frowns. “Who am I kidding? I don't do kitchen. But we should buy Christmas cookies...”

“You mean, make Christmas cookies?” Helaena raises an eyebrow.

“No, thanks. I just redid my nails. But we could get gingerbread houses to decorate!” She offers hopefully. “But first, I need to shower and change. And before you say anything; I can't feel my toes.”

Hel sighs. “Perhaps Floris and I should go shopping while you shower.”

“Well, I don't do groceries either,” Annika winks at them. “Could you buy me a few things? I'll text them to you. You go while I bathe, and then I'll prepare dinner. Which means, order something to be delivered here and get the wine from the cellar.”

Floris rolls her eyes, not even having taken off her coat. “You better have three glasses of wine waiting for us when we get back to watch a movie.”

Annika snaps her fingers. “Done!” She says, then takes off her fur hat and puts it on Floris. “There you go. So your ideas won't freeze.”

“We'll be back in fifty minutes,” Helaena announces, taking the car keys from Annika's stiff and gloved hands.

As soon as she's alone, Annika rummages through one of her suitcases for her shower things and crosses to the main bathroom, in front of Helaena's room. Unfortunately, her friend's bedroom is not ensuite, and they have endured countless escapes where they had to cross to the bathroom in the middle of the night and lose all glamour by running into one of Helaena's brothers or nephews.

Annika has always loved coming to the Aspen cabin. It has always been a place very different from her home where time seems to run in a different way. Almost magical, though she knows better now to understand magic doesn’t exist. Since she was a child, Helaena and her family often felt more like a family than her own. It was strange because even though Helaena adored her brothers, Annika knew she felt like an outsider. Very alien to them.

In one way or another, the three of them always found a home in themselves. Where they could be without prejudices or fear.

She turns on the shower, letting the water flow hot, even boiling, as she removes her clothes and hangs her pink robe on the nearest hook. She is careful to lift her long and shiny hair to avoid getting it wet and preserve her meticulously done blowout. Her hair has always been one of her best features and is almost sacred to her; curls that fall like a cascade of liquid gold to her waist.

Her muscles contract as her body comes into contact with the hot water, and she sighs relieved. She stays almost inert for a while before taking her shower lotion and starting to wash to remove any remnants of the plane and the trip and New York off her.

And she has a lot to clean. A life of mistakes, an entire year of failure and sins and feelings kept deep in her heart.

But there are still eight days left for her to leave it all behind finally. Eight days for the year to end, and therefore, a new life to begin. A new life where she doesn't make mistakes or hurt anyone and is her best version. Where she is a better person and accompanies Helaena and Floris to do the groceries and learns to make Christmas dinner or hot chocolate.

But she still has eight more days to be the acidic and superficial Annika who runs away from her problems instead of facing them.

When she finishes washing her face, she reaches out for one of the towels before jumping into her robe. At that moment, the door opens abruptly, and the steam that fills the bathroom disperses into the air, letting in a cold draft from the hallway.

She glimpses, through the steam, a platinum blonde mane.

“Hel, come in. Did you return so quickly? I must have lost track of time. Did you bring the things I asked for?”

But Helaena doesn't respond. Annika wraps the small towel around her body and opens the shower door, stepping out.

“Wow, my Christmas wish came true already,” the mischievous and familiar laughter takes her completely by surprise.

Annika screams, disturbed when through the steam, she makes sense of Aegon's figure, Hel's older brother. The unbearable older brother, to be precise. Among other things.

She moves so far back that she slips. Aegon has to hold her arm so that she doesn't fall and hit her head on the edge of the bathtub. When she is stable enough, she pushes him to let go of her bare and wet arms, a bit disturbed by the vulnerable situation, but Aegon holds her so tightly that this time he slips backward and takes her with him.

“You're an idiot!” She yells, holding onto the towel that is the only thing separating her naked body from him.

Aegon laughs painfully. “Wow, my second Christmas wish just came true.”

“What are you doing here?!” Annika demands, too disturbed, while trying to find a way to get off him without pressing any unwanted parts of her body. He looks at her, his blue eyes against her green ones, and smiles.

“I could ask you the same. This is my house.”

When she finally manages to stand up, and the steam has dispersed a bit, she notices that Aemond is standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and a slightly disturbed look. When he notices the blush on Annika's cheeks, he turns away to give her privacy.

“We almost called the police,” Aemond tells her. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you an intruder wasn't going to shower. And I'm sure no intruder would wear those ridiculous fur boots...”

“Would you mind?” Annika says to Aegon, holding the towel against her chest as if her life depends on it while grabbing her robe with the other hand.

“Go ahead, darling.”

“Aegon,” Aemond warns. He grumbles and turns around as Annika puts on the robe without even removing the towel and ties the belt with a knot worthy of the navy.

“Nice knot. Did Greyjoy teach you to do that?” Aegon mocks when he turns to look at her again. She gives him the middle finger. “Would you mind explaining what you're doing here?”

“I came with Helaena and Floris to spend Christmas. What are you doing here?”

“It seems great minds think alike,” Aegon snorts. “A heads-up would have been nice, by the way. What if we were with girls here?”

“You could have warned yourself, too,” she tells him. “And it wouldn't be the first time we find you in a deplorable situation that you dragged Aemond into.”

“You can't stay here,” Aemond takes care of dissipating the heated atmosphere between his brother and the girl. She laughs sarcastically.

“Don't worry, your sister and your ex-girlfriend are shopping and will be back any moment. I'll be waiting for them outside with our luggage; I'll book a hotel.”

She doesn't wait for an answer, passes by Aemond without acknowledging him, and crosses to Helaena's room. Aemond rubs his temples, disturbed and stressed.

“This wasn't part of the plan,” Aegon informs, in case Aemond thought he had orchestrated the encounter intentionally. “You didn't know Helaena was coming?”

“No. She said she was staying in New York. Why would she lie?” Aemond questions.

“Technically, we lied too. But who knows with Helaena...”

“You never lie to Helaena. And she never lies to you. What's going on?” Aemond crosses his arms. “She said you haven't visited her lately. Not even the last time you were in New York.”

“What? Are you a detective now?” Aegon crosses his arms, hurrying to leave the bathroom and go down the stairs to the front door when he hears it open. Aemond follows him, but Aegon stops halfway. “Listen, if you don't want to see Floris, that's fine. I'll deal with them. Lock yourself in your room to cry or whatever you do. I understand...”

Aemond actually considers it but shakes his head. “It's okay.”

Aegon pats his shoulder. Annika comes out already dressed, with perfect hair, and ignores the presence of the brothers to join her friends while holding the phone between her cheek and shoulder, trying to get a hotel reservation. The brothers follow her down, and when they reach the first floor, in the entrance, it's not precisely their friends who are there.

It's Daeron, engaging in... something akin to making out with a girl with intense red hair who hasn't even let go of her bags yet. Both are dripping melted snow, wetting the wooden floor, deeply lost in each other, not caring much. Annika stays still at the foot of the stairs and reaches back to hit Aegon's chest, who looks at them proudly. Aemond crosses his arms while the only girl puts her hand to her mouth.

Aegon claps once. “What a show.”

Daeron and the girl separate as quickly as a spit for a pardon, even more disturbed than Annika was when found in the shower. Aegon looks at Annika and Aemond and laughs. “It will never get old.”

“What are you guys doing here?” The young boy despairs, while the girl hides behind him. Daeron tilts his head at the bizarre situation. “Oh, my God. Please tell me you weren't-“

“Have you gone crazy?” Aemond interrupts. It's been a while since Annika has seen Daeron, and the last time, the boy was at her height. He has grown between a much taller man than Aegon, almost reaching Aemond's height. “Why aren't you at boarding school?”

“It's winter break?” He doubts his answer. “I thought all of you would be either in New York or London for your father's party, Annika. Nice to see you again, by the way.”

“See? That's what you'd expect from my best friend's brothers,” she snorts, approaching him to give him a kiss on the cheek. “How you've grown! And who is this?”

“She yells at us, and he’s the one who gets the kisses,” Aegon complains.

“You never drew me a picture of us while I babysat you,” Annika tells him plainly, while Daeron puts an arm around her shoulders affectionately.

“That's because I was the one taking care of you, brat.”

“This is Willa. She is my girlfriend,” Daeron introduces Willa to Annika. Willa smiles shyly, while Annika grins from ear to ear and shakes her hand warmly. “Willa, this is Annika. An old family friend.”

“Hi, I've heard a lot about you,” Willa says, trying to sound convincingly extroverted despite the humiliation she has suffered. Annika looks at her puzzled and amused at the same time. “He was very much in love with you.”

“I know. It was adorable to see him scare off the boys in my grade with his Spider-Man pajamas on one occasion,” she laughs. “It's a pleasure, Willa. So, I guess the four of you had the same idea. How convenient.”

“Didn’t you guys come together?” Daeron asks, puzzled.

“Of course not. I came with Hel and Flo. They were here, but they didn't have the decency to warn any of us before coming to make a bachelor nest at your parents's family house.”

Aegon rolls his eyes. “And we were having some amazing days until you came to disrupt our peace.”

“Don't worry. I'll leave as soon as I can get a hotel. Daeron? Should I look for something for you and Willa? I think you two had more interesting plans than to spend Christmas with those two,” Annika asks, with the sound of keys on the cell phone she activated just to annoy Aegon. He squints at the sound and groans.

“Yes... I mean, no! This is my house, and I have the right to use it too,” Daeron stands firm.

“Does mom and dad know you're here?” Aegon asks, and the younger one sighs.

“They don't know you're here either,” Annika reminds him.

“Oh, come on. Whose side are you on?”

“Whichever is not yours. We’re leaving because I know none of us wants to spend time with you, but if Daeron wants to stay, you can't just kick him out because you feel like it. And let's be honest... Aemond, are you even having fun?”

Aemond opens his mouth to speak, but his brother interrupts him. “You're a sellout.”

“Sorry, but they're right. I can't stand you for one more day alone. I'll go back home, and I prefer the funeral-party of my relationship than seeing you hook up with a random blonde and calling to clean your vomit from the carpet.”

The front door opens, letting in another freezing gust of wind. “We're...!”

Floris falls silent when they see the scene, just like Helaena, who blinks several times and points at each one as if counting them one by one. “What are you guys doing here?” Helaena asks.

Aegon throws his hands in the air. “I can't do this again. It's not funny if you're not in a compromising situation. Do you have something interesting in those bags? Dildos?”

“Who is that?” Floris whispers to Annika, pointing at the redhead girl, ignoring the fact that Aemond can't take his eyes off her. “What are they doing here?”

Helaena smiles. “You must be Willa! I'm so glad to finally meet you!”

“You knew Daeron had a girlfriend and didn't say anything?” Aemond asks, dismayed. Helaena shrugs after wrapping the girl in a hug; it wasn't her story to tell. “What else haven't you told us?”

“I knew. We spent an entire week together. I’m sure she remembers,” Aegon teases her. “Hi, Willa.”

“Hi… Good to see you again.”

“Oh, don’t lie to him,” says Daeron.

Then, someone knocks on the door. Aegon, who has moved to sit on the steps, lets out a grunt. “If that's Mom and Dad planning a romantic Christmas getaway and coming to install a sex swing, I'm going to shoot them and then shoot myself in the balls.”

Annika scrunches her nose. “Do you have to be so gross all the time?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” He smirks.

Helaena opens the door a little curiously. “Hello?”

“Hey. You’re Helaena, right?" Asks a brown-haired guy, dressed in a plaid shirt and a black jacket. “I'm Logan. I live in the house next door, remember?”

“The house next door, as in the house that's three kilometers away?” Aemond grumbles.

“Yes, of course, I remember you. How are you? Want to come in?”

Aegon puts his hands to his face and pretends to cry.

“Sure... Sorry to interrupt, but the power has gone out in my house. Is it okay if I stay here for a few hours?” Logan asks. “I know we don't know each other, and I'd go to a café, but it's already dark outside, and they're announcing snowstorms for tomorrow and the day after. It's a bit dangerous to take the road. I might not be able to come back.”

“They just took the road, and they're safe,” Aegon says. “Hey, maybe you can go to the hotel they'll all go to. Maybe all of you can rent the same room and have a Christmas party.”

Logan laughs. “A hotel? On December 23th, with a snowstorm at the door and no previous reservation? Good luck finding something.”

Annika stops dialing numbers and looks a bit irritated at Helaena. “You didn't check the weather before coming, did you?”

“Well, I didn't feel like there was going to be a snowstorm,” she says, a little uncomfortable.

“I see you're having... a family situation here. Maybe I should go,” Logan says this time.

“Wait. Are you from around?” Annika asks.

“Don't talk to her or look her directly in the eyes; she’ll turn you into stone like she's Medusa,” Aegon warns.

Logan ignores him. “Yes, I live here. My family was supposed to come for a visit, but they were arriving tomorrow, and flights have been canceled or rescheduled.”

“Sorry to hear that. And is there no other place we can stay? They don't rent anything either?” Floris asks this time.

“I could try to get you something with a friend, but I don't think so. And anyway, as I told you, going out right now to look for something can be dangerous. If you have the possibility of spending the night here, I suggest you do it,” Logan says.

Aemond looks at Aegon. “Well, I guess our escapade is officially over, thank God. Of course, everyone can stay. We have the space...”

“It was supposed to be just us,” Aegon complains and walks to the door. “Look, it's not even that bad outside.”

He opens the door, and a freezing wind makes a bunch of leaves and sticks enter the house, then slams the door shut. He grits his teeth.

“Just for one night,” Daeron finally gives in and looks at Willa. “At least until tomorrow when things calm down, and we can look for somewhere to stay. We wouldn't even have to see each other's faces.”

“Daeron, it's fine. I don't mind spending time with your family,” she smiles, so delighted with the idea that Floris finds it a bit funny she wants to be part of the messed up gang.

“Yes, Daeron. As if we were going to tell about the time you got lost in the woods, and we found you bathed in cow shit,” Aegon laughs, but no one laughs with him.

“That was you,” Helaena reminds him. “Two years ago.”

“Oh. And what about the time he tried to ride a bike on a beam and fell into a cactus?”

“Again, that was you,” Aemond says this time. “You were drunk as a skunk and insisted on doing it even though everyone told you not to.”

“We pulled thorns out of your ass for three days,” Annika recalls tiredly, then smiles at him. “You've always been a classy boy.”

Aegon looks at her with crossed arms. “At least I didn't ruin my father's wedding with a tantrum.”

“At least I didn't ruin an entire debutante ball,” she mutters back.

“Still on that? It's been years, woman!”

“I have the right to be mad...!”

“Okay, let's not go there,” Aemond warns, placing his hands on Annika's shoulders. Willa hugs Daeron's arm, confused. “We have to endure each other for just one night. Let's not start fighting. We all had fun together before.”

“He's right. You shouldn't fight, even Aemond is trying to get us to have fun,” Helaena suggests, and everyone bursts into laughter. Logan and Willa, more out of obligation than anything else. “I have an idea.”

“Should we get into the hot tub while we drink?” Aegon says, hopeful.

“Are you insane? It's only six in the evening. What are you, a savage?” Floris questions. He opens his mouth to reply, and she shakes her head. “Please, don't answer that.”

“I was going to suggest that we try to cook something. Like... a dinner. And we should all chip in.”

Everyone looks at Annika, who opens her mouth surprised. “Why are you all looking at me? Aegon blew up the microwave making sausages.”

“Yes, because you told me to wrap them in aluminum foil,” he crosses his arms.

Daeron looks at them puzzled. “I thought Aegon was alone when his microwave exploded. Alone and drunk.”

“I told him via text,” she quickly adds. Aegon snorts. “And as a joke.”

"That joke cost me a new kitchen.”

“Well, most of us know not to put metals in the microwave. So, we can make dinner without any problem.”

Annika crosses her arms. “Well… I want an apron.”

* 🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

“Logan! Be more careful. This is cashmere!”Annika yells; she's wearing gloves, a chef's hat, and an apron she found in the utility room. No one exactly knows how, considering she hasn't touched anything, but her apron is stained as if she had worked for hours in a fast food factory.

After trying for a while to get her to chop an onion, they gave up, deciding that Annika would slow them down more than help. Aemond and Aegon hadn't been the epitome of efficiency either, so it boiled down to Hel, Floris, Willa, Logan, and Daeron. But they let Annika decorate the cookies while Aegon tried to steal the dough mix.

Logan makes the girls laugh enthusiastically, even Daeron at times.

“I don't like him” Aegon tells Aemond, drinking what's left of his beer. “How do we know he's not a serial killer? Showed up at our door out of nowhere.”

Aemond rolls his singular eye. “Yes. He looks ruthless helping Hel and Annika put sprinkles on the gingerbread man cookies.”

“It could be poison,” he argues, watching as Logan puts icing on Annika's nose, and everyone laughs. “It's not even funny.”

"They seem to think it's hilarious," Aemond replies disinterestedly, while meticulously setting up his glass chess set. “Do you want to play?”

“Can we play strip chess?”

“No.”

“Then, no. But maybe Floris wants to play,” Aegon points to the girl sitting on the kitchen counter, surprisingly quiet amidst the symphony of laughter around her. “Are you going to tell me what happened between you two?”

“Of course. When you tell me why you've been staring at Annika incessantly since she arrived.”

Aegon sighs and settles into the couch. “You know I've always been protective of her. Same with Helaena and Floris. Mother always encouraged me to do it.”

“Well, you seem more jealous than anything, and I don't see you very concerned that your presumed serial killer is clearly interested in our sister,” Aemond points out. Aegon looks at them and furrows his brow.

“Of course not. It's Helaena. She wouldn't...”

“She wouldn't what?”

“Ugh. That’s disgusting,” he mutters at the thought of his younger sister in a relationship.

“Guys, look,” Helaena approaches them as if they summoned her. She holds a tray freshly taken from the oven. “We made us, cookie version!”

Aegon furrows his brow and points at a gingerbread man with a questionable appearance. “What happened to this one?”

“That's you,” she says with a smile. Aemond bites his inner cheek to stifle a laugh. “Annika said she had technical difficulties.”

“It looks like a voodoo doll,” Aemond remarks. “I'd be careful.”

Aegon grumbles and gets up from his seat. He heads to the kitchen annoyed, where Annika is trying to scrape dough off the marble countertop along with Willa and Logan. “Want to smoke a cigarette?”

She looks at him, bewildered. “I'm busy.”

“I'm sure they can finish without you,” he tells her, taking her wrist to drag her to the backyard. She removes the apron, puts on a coat, and her Moschino boots, earning a disgusted look from Aegon, the cigarette hanging between his lips. “Those are the ugliest boots I've ever seen in my life.”

“Well, I have to endure your face on Christmas...”

“Cut the bullshit,” he says, lighting his cigarette and offering Annika fire to light hers. “You've been avoiding me. And now you're more passive-aggressive than usual. People’s starting to notice.”

“I've been avoiding you because you've been avoiding me,” she reminds him, her tone suddenly turning acidic. Aegon knows it well. It's because he's gotten under her skin. “You didn't return my calls, and obviously, I stopped trying. The message was more than clear.”

“Please, it was a relief for you that I didn't return your calls. It's exactly what you wanted,” Aegon points out. “You haven't set foot in your house since spring. Did you not want to run into me?”

“You didn't go to Floris's birthday to avoid running into me. You didn't visit Helaena to avoid running into me. You couldn't even return her calls because you couldn't face her and lie to her face.”

He opens his mouth, but chooses his words carefully. “I guess we've both been avoiding each other, then.”

“Maybe it's for the best, you know?” She shrugs. “Lying became exhausting. I was tired of pretending I was somewhere when I was actually with you. We can't do that.”

“It was good,” Aegon admits.

“Just not good enough for you to want to stop lying to everyone about it,” she deduces, pursing her lips into a thin line as she exhales smoke through her nose. “I understand.”

“I don't think you do,” he says, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand, noticeably uncomfortable. “The problem wasn't that you weren't good enough, quite the opposite. The problem is, you're my little sister's best friend. I've known you forever. It's...”

“If you tell me I'm like your little sister, I'm going to kick you,” she warns. Aegon shakes his head, amused.

“I can't do that to Helaena. I've ruined many things for her and my brothers. I don't want to ruin one of the best things she has. We wouldn't have worked, you and I. You belong with her, not with me.”

Annika nods. “Okay.”

“So, are we good? At least because we're stuck here on Christmas?” He asks, hoping that's the case. But he knows with Annika, things are never that simple. “We can call it a truce.”

“Sure,” she smiles and puts out her cigarette on the floor. Aegon wants to say something else, because he knows he’s hurting her…

But he doesn’t reach for her.

* 🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

Willa bites her lip while rummaging through her suitcase. Daeron's room is impeccably clean, and she finds it amusing that he has a solar system décor clearly chosen when he was a child.

“I don't even remember the order of the planets nowadays,” he says to excuse his questionable interior decorating decision.

“Daeron. Can I ask you something?” She says, a bit curious. Her boyfriend settles on the bed with his arms behind his head and nods. “Aegon and Annika...?”

“Ugh. I don't even want to start talking about them,” he sighs as if the topic bores him.

“What did they mean by what they said about the debutante ball-“

“Oh, no. No,” the room's door opens, and Floris walks in unannounced. “We really don't talk about August 15, 2017. It's more like strictly forbidden.”

“Jesus Christ! Can I help you with something?” Daeron asks. “You should’ve knocked first.”

“Hide me until Aemond gets bored of playing chess and invites me to play.”

Daeron rolls his eyes and pats the side of his bed, inviting the girl to sit.

“I'm sorry for interrupting and eavesdropping. Just came to pretend I'm busy.”

“That's okay,” he says. “Willa wanted to know what happened at the debutante ball. If you want the full backstory, we have the right person here.”

“We shouldn't talk about it,” Floris reminds him.

“She's been my girlfriend for a long time. And she's staying much longer... Or not if my family scares her away by barging in unannounced.”

Floris sighs. “You're manipulative. If she's going to stay, then she has to know. And she has to know to never, ever speak on the subject. And no one can know that you know, understand?” Willa nods and sits on the bed with her legs crossed, ready to hear the story.

“You have to swear never to speak of it. If you do, you'll have to turn your firstborn to the devil, and your lineage will be cursed for generations,” Daeron jokes, stretching his leg slightly to playfully hit her. “Think of our children.”

“You two are disgustingly adorable,” Floris laughs, then turns serious as she starts telling the story. “So, it's 2017. Helaena, Annika, and I are, what? Sixteen, seventeen, and we're going to be presented in society. We had months of preparation; wardrobe, our escort, everything had to be perfect. Now that you've seen what Annika's like, I'm sure you can understand the level of detail she put into her preparations. Two years before... Her mother had passed away. It was tough for her, and for Alicent too since they were very close friends.”

“Oh, I didn't know that.”

“Yeah. The thing is, Alicent and Freya, Annika's mother, always wanted Aegon to be Annika's escort for her debutante ball. It was a perfect idea, the first male heir of the Targaryen family and the first daughter of the Lannister family. We all assumed it would be that way... Until two months before the ball, Aegon said he wasn't going to do it. Without any explanation. He was in college, so there really was no way to force him. He showed up on the day of the ball, drunk, and at the end of the dance, for no apparent reason, he attacked Dalton Greyjoy, Annika's escort. It was a disaster. They tried to separate them, but they beat each other up. They knocked down a sculpture, broke a table, and ruined the dress of Annika's mother. Aegon's family paid for all the damages, but since then, they don't take him to any social events.”

Willa looks like she's turned pale. “It's... Wow.”

“Annika and Aegon have hated each other since then. I mean, they always had a strange relationship, but it got worse after that, rightfully so. They keep the peace for Helaena's sake more than anything, and I think after so much time, they've learned to forgive each other,” Daeron says. “I wouldn't even bother trying to understand them.”

Willa nods. “I understand. I... I would never have imagined something like that. They have a strange energy, but I never would've thought they got along badly.”

“Hey!” Annika suddenly opens the door, making everyone startle. She smiles, mischievous. “What are you talking about?”

“School,” Daeron says simply.

“Relationships,” Floris replies at the same time.

Annika frowns.

“Relationships and school,” Willa clarifies.

“Okay... I came to invite you to play. We don't have a board game for this many people, but we thought it would be fun to play something more... Dynamic.”

Daeron straightens up to sit on the bed. “Like what?”

“Never Have I Ever,” Annika says, a sly smile on her face.

[wizkiddx]

...surprise

um okay so here I am trying angst again. this is kind of intended to be open ended bcos might have a part two at some point. im also lazy and has a few time jumps. also if someone could pls explain if you just get pics for the top of these off internet or credit on like gifs or something that’d be appreciated.

Summary: Tom comes home and everything is most definitely not the way he left, nor is it healthy

Warnings: please read with caution esp relationship with food / weightloss, but just generally a person in a bad bad head space, lots of self blame - then next parts will carry different warnings too

************************

Tom had been away for months. Months and months away from his girlfriend, separated entirely by his filming locations in Europe and America; while you were busy slowly and steadily climbing the ranks of your law firm. Being an intense period for the pair, you hadn’t managed to see each other in 2 and a half months.  Of course, both go you were used to this - 3 years deep into a relationship between an actor and a wanna-be lawyer- this was the name of the game.

But honestly? You both just kept falling deeper and deeper, making the separation harder to deal with - rather than getting used to it as one might hope.

That's why Tom felt such an incredibly overwhelming wave of relief as he dumped his bags just outside his front door. Even though he was exhausted from the travelling, just the mere act of finally phishing out his housekeys brought a massive grin to his face - caused particularly by the sight of his tacky little keyring from a Moroccan market that you’d bought him. That had been your first holiday. There’s that old saying that before you move in with someone go on holiday first - Tom understood it to mean you supposedly see all the bad and ugly stuff people can hide from each other, a prewiring before committing to living in the same space. However that holiday all he’d learned was incredible you are to him. To his dying day, Tom will never forget the moment he looked over to his left when the two of you were on this night time stargaze in the depth of the Moroccan desert. Y/n had never seen stars like it, the skies so incredibly clear and lit up with an array of magical blues and purples and whites on its sark background. The sight, for no unexplainable reason, had you completely opening up to Tom about things she’d never told a single soul. And in that moment he’d had this sort of realisation. Not about how much he loved her - because that is just the cliche thing everyone says… and also just wasn’t true.

In that moment he’d rather realised the potential. The sort of ‘I’m not there yet but I know you could become the centre of my universe’. The sort of ‘I’m not ready to say this yet, but I want to spend my life with you’. The sort of ‘at some point in my life I’m not sure my heart will be able to beat without yours’.

He still hadn’t quite got to explicitly saying all that yet, by asking you for the ultimate commitment. But he planned to now he was coming back to you.

Even with the chill of the early evening winter air, Tom was almost ecstatic as he unlocked the door and let himself in. He hadn’t told you that he was coming home, you thought he had another two weeks on the job, but Tom was a bit of an old romantic - he loved seeing your eyes fill with wonder as he surprised you in whatever way. Sometimes it was as simple as a note on the fridge, or a small bouquet from behind his back or as fancy as a surprise holiday.

However, this time, though it was only 6 in the evening, all the lights of their house were off making Tom raise an eyebrow as he quietly slipped off his shoes - not wanting to scare Y/n just in case.

Tom had sworn when he’d been on the phone with you the previous day, you didn’t have any plans tonight but perhaps maybe a spontaneous pub trip and been offered with work colleagues. The house felt a little cold as he padded through it, poking his head into every room just to check Y/n wasn’t there. His last port of call was the bedroom.

By this point, Tom was pretty resigned on the fact you were out and he’d maybe cook a meal for when you got back or hide about the house or something. But instead, when he poked his head around this door, he sighed in delight at the sight of a still mound under the plush white sheets. For a brief moment, Tom paused, before tiptoeing steadily round to her bedside. The light was still off but the hallway light illuminated the room enough so he could make out your soft features and the messy ball of hair that had been haphazardly thrown in a bun. Furthermore, he could also notice in the light the packet of painkillers and migraine tablets lying opened on the bedside - which made him freeze. Y/n didn’t get migraines often at all, but when she did Tom knew just how bad they could be. That explained the fact you were spark out at six o’clock, making Tom give a sympathetic smile. He crept back out the room with a little spring in his step, deciding that since he had had a long day travelling he'd grab a snack and join you. Unfortunately though, when he enthusiastically yanked the fridge open the sight was a rather depressing one. He didn’t really know what he was craving but the fridge contents were of almost no use to anyone. The place was bloody baron, apart from a tub of butter and of course his special beers that Y/n would never dare touch. With a small huff though, Tom resigned himself to some bread and butter, before getting ready for bed.

It was probably an hour later when Tom was carefully crawling under the duvet to settle in beside Y/n after the disappointing snack and maybe a solitary ‘welcome home beer’ - it would be rude not to. God was he excited to just have his girlfriend in his arms again though. So, Tom naturally reached over and powerfully yet gently pulled you back towards him - making your back flush with his as you mumbled something incoherent. Chuckling slightly at your apparent annoyance of being disturbed, Tom pressed a kiss to her temple before settling down momentarily.

But something wasn’t quite right, making Tom shuffle about a bit - ever adjusting huis grasp on your waist as he attempted to get comfy. With the migraine medications forcing you into a deep deep sleep you barely stirred and that just made the unease increase for Tom. Because you didn’t feel right. This didn’t feel right. Ever so slowly Tom started to peel back the duvet from your body from his now sitting upright position. Typically, Y/n was wearing one of his hoodies, however more concerningly it seemed to pool and collect around your frame more than normal.

Now, Y/n was never the most petite person in the world - by no means overweight, instead of beautiful curves and muscle. To Tom now though, it was as if someone had literally shrunk you - like a picture on a word document you needed to make narrower to fit the margins. Even in the dim light of the bedroom he know realised you looked pale. Honestly, Tom didn’t know how long he just sat there staring at you, until you sighed a little and pulled the duvet back up to just under your chin.

He didn’t know what to think or do. All he knew was you didn’t look well and that you hadn’t said a thing to him. Feeling so very uncomfortable within himself, Tom climbed out the bed and simultaneously grabbed his phone. He knew he had to call someone, to check that you hadn’t been ill - but then who to call? Someone that wouldn’t judge or instantly worry- your mum was completely off the cards. Also, he hadn’t even given you the chance to explain yet, so really he knew there was only a couple of options who were close enough to him too.

“Hey what’s up?” “Um nothing much, back in the UK though so-“ “Oh shit really! Kept that one quite bro” “Yeh well came back to surprise Y/n” “Oh you're soooo whipped” “Fuck off Haz, have you um… have you seen her recently anyway?” “You're asking me if I’ve seen your girl while you’ve been away?” “I’m being serious. You’re pretty much brother and sister and I’m -I’m a bit worried.” “What? You know she wouldn’t cheat especially with me” Haz’s tone turned less serious, using a goofy accent “ I know too much.” Haz still attempted to lighten the mood, this conversation very unexpected and making him grow more and more concerned himself. “Haz quit it. I’m worried she’s been ill. I’ve come in and she’s asleep with a migraine but there’s no food in the fridge and she’s skinny as hell.” “Fuck er sorry I didn’t realise. But um no she’s been cancelling on us for the past like two weeks cos like…I don’t know said she was just snowed under at the firm so” “But before then?” “No yeh she was fine. Went to the pub a couple times and she always drove so didn’t drink but nothing weird - think she wanted to keep a clear head. What are you thinking?” “I don’t know to be honest mate. She seemed fine on the phone but I swear to god she looks half the size  of what she was when I left.” “Just talk to her in the morning? She probably is just stressed if work has been mad busy.” Tom hummed in agreement, half trying to convince himself too. “Yeh yeh, sorry for bothering you.” “Oh shut up mate - I’ll see you both at your parents for the roast tomorrow? Sams got some new recipe I think, he’s been wittering on about it for days.” “Yeh we’ll be there, see you then mate.” 

After signing off to Haz, Tom placed his phone on the little table on the upstairs hallway and sighed. He knew he was being over-protective but he couldn’t help it. Y/n was always the one to care for him, in fact to care for everybody int he room and then some.

He’d get to the bottom of whatever this was tomorrow, and so the rest of the evening Tom spent rather unhappily get ready before bed yet again before climbing back in next to you.

///////////////////////////

Tom woke before you, a combination of jet lag and the worry in the pit of his stomach meaning he stirred awake first. Instinctively he pulled you closer and nuzzled his nose into the side of your neck as he slowly began to wake up properly - shrugging off the grogginess. Tom was still really excited for you to realise he was back, predicting you  to excitedly hug him ever so tight and then spend the morning between the sheets. He knew you found the distance tough, especially when all your closest friends were coupled off, it meant you just didn’t have ‘your person’. It was almost as if you were single again and instead of pining over an ex, hopelessly and completely in love with someone across the globe. But that just made your time together even more invaluable and precious.

So even with his slight unease at your slimmer silhouette, Tom didn't have any control over the loopy grin that came to his face as you started to stir and mumble something incoherent, all the while (and subconsciously) inching closer towards him. By the slight fluttering under your eyelid, Tom knew you were waking up and so took the moment to tuck your frizzy bed hair behind your ear. Sighing contently Y/n’s eyes fluttered completely open and Tom met your gaze with the most gently of smiles.

However, he then watched moment by moment as your expression morphed for one of peacefulness and content, through confusion, and ending at pure terror. He had barely thought of asking you why, before you yelped, throwing yourself up into a sitting position and backing as far away on the bed as you could from Tom. “TOM... I-you can’t be here! YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!” “Y/n hey what’s wrong-“ “GET OUT! G-GET THE FUCK OUT! YOU CAN’T BE HERE” you  yanked the bedsheets to completely cover your huddled up body, as if trying to protect yourself. At this point, tears were streaming down your face and what truly terrified Tom was the expression of horror in your eyes. He threw his hands in the air and unsteadily stumbled to his feet. “O-okay I’m-“ “GET OUT!!! YOU CAN'T SEE ME GET OUT!” Completely bemused and shocked, Tom just nodded jerkily -already halfway out the door and accidentally slamming it in haste.

He had absolutely zero clue what that was about. But what he knew for a fact? He’d never ever seen you like that… you looked so completely terrified… of him? Tom couldn’t for the life of him work out what the hell was going on, as he paced from the shut door to the hallway wall and back again, running his hand through his hair throughout. He could hear you sobbing and whisper yelling - presumably at yourself. It felt as though his heart was being torn out, seeing you that upset and it appearing as his fault? He was acting on pure instinct and adrenalin because your pain hurt him too. He had no control of the physiological response in his body, making his hands shake and breathing increase in speed as it inversely got shallower too.

And so he took a short inhalation, biting his bottom lip as he knocked on the door. “Y/n?….” He got no response after waiting a couple of seconds so tried again - because he could hear you trying to stifle your sobs. After another two failed attempts he opted for a different approach. “Y/n… I’m worried about you… look, I know your upset right now but I need you to let me know your okay… or I’ll have to come in and…and I don’t want to spook you” “Don’t come in.” It was a sharp reply, with a voice that was cracked and clearly trying to keep It together. “Okay… I-I’m sorry if my surprise of coming home was a dumb idea…I-I’ve missed you.” Tom tried speaking softly, as he knelt down and sat with this back against the wall while nervously fiddling with his watch strap that he’d forgot to take off last night. Again he waited for a response but got nothing, again having to warn you he needed to know you were okay. He heard movements from the other side of the door, making him turn his head to the left, pressing his ear on the cool gloss paint. “I-I’m sorry” You barely were whispering, but Tom could sense you were now sitting in a position mirroring his “You don’t meed to apologise love” Returning her tone, Tom sighed at the end - trying to get his brain to process what was going on.

Y/n wasn’t one to overreact and Tom could count on one hand the number of serious fights they’d had in the three year romance. And even then, he was the one to raise his voice - when she argued it was more reasoned, slow and controlled. Actually it was one of the things that in those moments infuriated him even more - you were just so level headed and sensible. Scratch that, sensible purely in this context - everywhere else you were just as loopy as him. So this situation felt so very alien. He didn’t know how to help you and he bloody hated feeling useless.

After a few moments, you replied to apologise once again, for shouting specifically,  and Tom nodded - not that you could see. But that was one of the things Y/n had taught him, sometimes you just have accept things - no matter the context. Accept he wasn’t actually a superhero and couldn’t do everything, accept that sometimes he could be a dick and out of line or accept an apology.

“Can you.. can you try and tell me why your upset? I want to help.” He was trying to be gentle, non-confrontational. But he knew something was so wrong. He needed to know so he could try and help out. “I…”Y/n began, but quickly trailed off, as if trying to formulate the words properly. “I’ve just been ill and” again another pause “and I haven’t been looking after myself very well. I just planned to be umm- to be better when you got back.”

It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t really the truth either, at least not the whole truth. But it wasn’t a lie.

“I’m not sure I understand why your so worried about what I think though?” Tom inquired, as he started to fiddle with the door handle in his left hand - as if easing the idea of coming into his girlfriend without scaring you. In reply, you sighed again trying to put the words together without explicitly spelling it out to him. “I don’t- I thought you’d just be disappointed or-or think I’m reliant on you. I’m not and I can handle myself I just…. I don’t know.” “I love you, you idiot.”Tom chuckled at that, while standing up. “Can I come in now please? I promise I’m not disappointed just want to help you feel better.”

The door opened and no sooner could Tom take a step forward than Y/n ran into his chest, wrapping herself tightly around him in apology. He knew that he didn’t have the full story but really didn’t want to push her, more preferring to just love her. So that’s what they spent the rest of the morning doing, in their pyjamas and watching TV. Quite obviously, she wasn’t really making a lot of conversation, Tom filled some gaps with talking about filming - to which she’d hum in agreement or chuckle along. But for the most part Y/n was concentrating on something else.

The all-consuming guilt. That was what was eating away at her.

part 2?

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Caroline Mulford

(My ugly gif)(Requested by @foulobjectdelusion )

- Caroline is the most popular girl in school who’s dating the most popular boy in school, everyone knows who she is, you included. But you’re practically invisible to people like her. You aren’t popular, you aren’t in their circle, the most you’ll get is a friendly wave/nod or an obligatory partnering for a project.

- That doesn’t stop you from having a crush on her ...like practically everyone else in the school. Yeah, you’ve been pining for the pretty blonde since your freshman year, but it isn’t really your fault is it? You could hardly even have a conversation with her, let alone admit you have a Sapphic crush on her. All you can do is pine.

- That all changes after one very special summer. You’d gone on a trip, gotten a bit more fashionable clothing, learned how to properly do your makeup and changed your hair; you’d even had a short fling and felt what it was like to be in a relationship. You were a new woman and it didn’t take long for people to notice.

- One of the popular boys invited you to join him and his friend group at their usual hangout spot, and you, feeling like you were in some sort of teen movie, obviously agreed. That was where she approached you.

- That's right: She approached you. Granted, she didn’t know who you were and actually started your conversation with a “You must be new! I’m Caroline.” as if you’d transferred schools but you didn’t correct her and more or less kept up the façade. You supposed you’d be a new woman in more ways than one.

- Though you did keep just about every other aspect of your life the same, you just let them think you hadn’t attended the school until now. Hey, if they didn’t recognize you that was their fault, right?

- Caroline liked you almost immediately though it was purely platonic. You were surprised to see just how sweet she was, even though you’d heard rumors and seen it for yourself on occasion. The two of you became friends that afternoon and you found yourself thrust into a life of popularity. One you only could have dreamed of until now.

- Now you’re being invited to parties and sitting at the popular table and going to the mall with Caroline; who you’re still practically obsessed with, and your life is practically perfect. You feel like you’re at the top of the world ...but then, you see her kiss Jake and you can feel yourself falling.

- You’d never realized how draining it would be to be up close. It was almost better to be far away from her, at least then you couldn’t be able to see the love shining in her eyes when she looked at him.

- Hell, you now babysat her brother while she went on dates with the boy.

- It was almost humorous, the duality of your popularity; everything could be so good and yet so bad at the same time.

- Finally, everything changed after one of Jakes; or rather her, parties. She’d gotten absolutely plastered; as per usual, and you were the only one sober enough to make sure she didn’t die during the night.

- So there you were, trying to pull drinks out of her hand and guiding her to a couch as she pawed all over you and her surroundings, giggling and stumbling the entire way there.

- Pretty much everyone had left the boys house, leaving a mess in their wake. All except you, who’d been waiting to see if Jake was going to deal with the girl before you drove yourself home.

- As the two of you sat, she sighed and laid her head in your lap, gushing about how much she cared about and loved you. You sighed and told her you cared about her too, brushing the hair from your face exasperatedly.

“No, not like that. I love, love, loveeee you.” She insisted.

- You thought nothing of it, giving her a “yep, yeah I know.” before you felt her hands on your face. Before you knew it, she’d pulled your face down and pressed her lips to yours, causing you to freeze in place.

- You quickly pulled away and shifted her out of your lap, telling her that you needed to get her home and that she was drunk. Fuck Jake. You’d deal with her this time whether he liked it or not.

- So you heaved her up and got her in your car, getting ready to drive her home before she nearly made you crash said car and insisted that you pull over. She was lucid for all of five minutes before she wound up passed out in your backseat with you. You soon followed suit and fell asleep clutching your keys and jacket.

- When you woke up in the morning, the two of you had a nice, awkward talk about what happened and she admitted that she had feelings for you and you for her. You told her that if anything was gonna happen, she’d have to break up with Jake which she agreed to.

- The two of you had your first date later that day. You went to a nice Waffle House to help with her wicked hangover and when you got back inside your car, she leaned over and gave you a real kiss to make up for the one she’d drunkenly stolen the night prior.

- And just like that, things were messily made perfect.

- Most people just think that you’re close friends so the two of you can get away with some pda; though you obviously aren’t really able to kiss in public. Regardless, even if she can’t show people that you’re a couple, she’s going to make it obvious; in one way or another, that you’re off limits. 

- Long hugs. 

- Handholding or your arm around her shoulders and her arm around your waist; or vice versa depending on your height. 

- Corner of the mouth kisses. 

- Deep, soft kisses. 

- Slow makeouts. 

- Hair petting. It’s a habit of hers. 

- There’s quite a bit of snuggling in your relationship. She likes laying her head on your shoulder or chest whenever you do, tracing patterns on your shirt while you wrap your arms around her.

- As we all know, Caroline's little brother is deaf so one can assume that she’s a bit attention starved at home. So, on that note, she always wants to be the center of your attention. God forbid you have homework to do; she’ll bother you until you take a break and give her what she wants.

- She usually just calls you some cutesy form of your given name or honey, maybe hun or babe when you’re out in public since girls can call their friends those. 

- Her parents don’t seem to be uptight in the slightest so you’re usually allowed to stay out for a long time and pretty much do whatever you want.

- Going to parties.

- Taking care of her at parties.

- Staying up until the early morning and watching the sunrise, usually while you’re both a little tipsy.

- Picnics.

- Beach dates.

- Almost always walking to class together. You’ll usually end up carrying her books because she’s a bit of a princess.

- Copying each others school and homework. If you can’t cheat off your partner, are you even dating?

- Taking photos together and of each other. She’ll take offense if you don’t have a picture of her framed on your nightstand.

- Please give her gifts; she loves them so much. You’ll never see her smile wider.

- Her asking you to get her things. She’s the girlfriend who calls you over just to ask you to go and grab her something from somewhere; usually with a cutesy little smile and a please.

- She wouldn’t be caught dead riding the bus and she sort of hates to drive so you usually end up driving her wherever she wants; or at least to and from school.

- Honestly talking about which movie stars you think are hot and would be obligated to marry if they asked.

- Going to the mall. It’s her favorite place.

- Helping her zip herself into dresses or pick things out when the two of you go shopping. She always asks you a million questions before she actually buys something.

- Popularity is pretty important to her so she’ll want the two of you to look your best when you’re out together. If you’re less stylish than her, she’s gonna wanna make you over.

- Doing each other’s nails.

- Laughing and cursing at each other as you do beauty rituals. You always have a lot of fun when you’re putting on face masks or cutting each other’s hair, etc.

- She pretty much lives at your house at this point. She comes over nearly everyday and spends more time in your room than her own.

- She becomes a part of your family whether or not your parents know that the two of you are dating. They either accept her as your girlfriend or just assume that you’re really close friends. The same goes for her family.

- I feel like she has the type of family that packs everyone up and takes them camping at least once a year so ...wanna go camping with her?

- Festive holidays. Her family probably goes skiing every winter and are really into the holidays and you; being her best friend tm, are always invited to join them.

- Staying over while she babysits her little brother. The little dude likes you a lot.

- It’s pretty funny to watch her go from her popular, cutesy teenage girl self to a mature, protective woman when she’s with her little brother. She’ll be batting her eyelashes at you one minute and doing sign language and/or watching her little brother like a hawk the next.

- She’s sort of oblivious when you’re upset and not the most considerate of your feelings but she’s trying to be better.

- That being said, she’s able to be reassuring and comforting when she realizes that she needs to be. She’s even sweeter and smarter than everyone in your school anticipated.

- She’s a bit paranoid when it comes to you and other girls so she’s definitely a pretty jealous person. She’ll usually sit in your lap; when she can, to make it clear that you’re a couple, plastering on a fake smile and greeting the other person like she hadn’t seen them there.

- She’ll later; bluntly, confront you about it, and will take your word for it but she’ll occasionally threaten the fact that she can easily find someone else.

- You’re the one who has to be protective, considering the fact that she tries to kill herself every other weekend.

- The two of you have quite a few short arguments but they’re rarely ever serious. You tend to settle them fairly quickly so you rarely ever have a “we’re in a fight” moment with your mutual friends.

- She usually tries to use cuteness to win you over; if you’re really fighting, or just concedes mid argument and accepts what you’ve said after a bit of convincing. She’ll give a real apology if her cute face doesn’t work but she’d prefer not having to do so.

- She tells you that she loves you fairly often; particularly when she’s drunk.

- She’s pretty fond of talking about the future. She makes it very obvious that’s she’s planning on staying with you for the rest of her life and it always warms your heart to hear it.

[dclsbaby]

mykonos-crossed lovers (part ii) 🦋

🎶 playlist for part ii

prologue

part i

part iii

part iv

Summary: When you drunkenly book a girls trip to a tropical Greek island to help mend your broken heart, you would never for a second think it will take you exactly to where he is. Him. A tale of the right person at the wrong time, an overused cliché made into plots of movies you never thought would live through in your reality. Two people, still madly in love with each other, hearts still broken, suppressed by the alcohol and distractions consumed on this trip. Will they let their egos get in the way, protect what’s left of their already broken hearts, or will let their hearts speak?

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: angst angst and more angst

Author’s Note: part 2 is finally out! thank you so much for the continued love on MCL, i can't accurately put into words how much it means to me seeing all the positive responses! i hope i haven't upset you too much on last chapter’s cliffhanger, and if so, i hope this one makes up for it a little bit 🤍 please let me know what you think! xx

Gif:

***

***

***

“It’s funny, I’ve flown out to this island to forget you, yet here you are. I can’t ever get away from you can I?” Dom asks, rather rhetorically. Shocked, you turn your head and see your ex standing in front of you, in Mykonos, of all places. You cringed at his honesty, but you can’t say you didn’t escape to the warmer climates for the same reason. “Hi, Dom,” you smile at him. “The boys are here?” you ignore his initial remark. “Yeah, Mase, Davo, and Ben are sat there,” he gestures to a table close by yours. “Luke’s flying out tomorrow”, he says. “So the full team,” you comment. “It seems you’re in for quite a holiday then,” you add.

He walks ahead to stand next to you, his toned arms resting on the white border, dangerously close to yours and he takes in the view you’ve been absorbing. Silence fills the space between you two. A little to quiet for both of your likings, you could’ve sworn you heard your heart beat out of your chest. You decide to break the silence.

“So, how’ve you been?” you asked, voice a little shaky, unsure if you even wanted to know. You looked up at Dom, and caught him sniggering at the question. “Never better,” he raises his eyebrows. “Got my call-up, ball finding the back of the net week in week out, all’s well. You?” he shifts his body to look at you. “Well,” you pause to face him. “I’m on a tropical island with my girls, away from work and grey British skies, so I’m enjoying it,” you replied.

“British Vogue is it?” he asks. You landed the job a couple of months after your breakup. It was the job you needed to make a life out of yourself, to have a career you loved. It was a job you left him for. So, to say that you were good at it was an understatement. If you had to endure the pain of a devastating heartbreak for your career, it had to mean everything to you. And it was. It had been your dream job for as long as you could remember, you have always loved fashion, and this love was complemented when you began dating your ex who has an eccentric fashion sense, always straying away from the mainstream mediocrity, which somehow, he always pulls off. It’s a gift.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”, you were curious. “Mum’s told me about it, she’s proud of you, by the way,” he stops to look at you. “Sounds like a big deal,” he says as he lets out a small smile. It’s the first time he’s ever shown some warmth since the conversation started. You smile back at him and nodded. “It’s been my dream since forever, if you remember,” you look up at him. “And that’s lovely from your mum, do let her know that I miss her,” your heart warms thought of his mum. “Of course you do, you two would gang up on me whenever she’s around,” Dom chuckles. “Only because we both know how obnoxious you could be,” you joke. “Obnoxious enough for you to break my heart I see,” he jokes as he smiles at you sadly. “I d-didn’t mean it like that,” you feel terrible. “I know, I was messing with you,” he lied. A part of him wants you to know that his heart is still broken.

Two people, former lovers, with so much shared memories, once each other’s worlds, reunite in unexpected circumstances.

“I miss you, you know,” Dom says. Your head turns to face him as you try to catch a look of his eyes that are looking down on his fingers. Standing at 6’2, you had to crane your neck to properly look at him. A painfully gorgeous man, his green-hazel eyes still shine so bright despite the evening sky, lips so full waiting to be touched, his curly locks tied up in a bun only to accentuate his perfectly sculpted jaws. He is so beautiful, the pain so visceral, so intense.

***flashback***

“It’s not fair,” your best friend said. “You two would make the most gorgeous babies,” you and Dom chuckled at her comment. “When they’ve got a mother with a face like this I’d imagine it to be difficult to not produce beautiful babies,” Dom says as he cups your face and plants a kiss on your forehead. “You did not just say ‘produce’!” you move away from him, jokingly made a disgusted face and laughed at his choice of words.

Later that night as you two were tucked in bed, you drift off into a daydream which caught Dom’s attention. “What are you thinking of in that little head of yours babe?” he asked. You softly smile at him. “You really think we’d have babies?” you asked as you look at him. “What do you mean?” he asks, shifting his body so it’s resting on his side, with his knuckles supporting his head up. “I mean, is this where we are headed?”, you clarified. Dom runs his fingers through your hair. “I absolutely wouldn’t mind having babies with you,” he pauses as he moves closer to you. “I want no one else more than you, to be the mother of my children, my partner through it all,” he looks at you with loving eyes. “You mean it?” you asked, a little surprised at his honesty. “I’ve never meant anything more in my life,” he says as he pulls your body closer to his.

***

Dreams of starting a family with who you thought was the love of your life quickly shatter as you realise where you were; stood in front of him, both with hearts that need mending.

“Don’t do this,” you quietly say as you stare into his eyes. “What? It’s true,” he shrugs. “I miss you and I thought you should know. You should know how much you’re hurting me by not being with me,” Dom confesses. The alcohol has definitely kicked in, Dom thought to himself. Liquid courage got him pouring out the subconscious thoughts he’d never unlock without a little help. “Dom, please. You don’t mean it, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” you close your eyes for a second. “You’ve had a lot to drink, you should go be with the guys,” you say as you take your arms off the wall. “Come, I’ll take you back,” you say as you lightly push his elbow to lead the way.

“What more do I have to do to show you that I am still in love with you? Fuck’s sake,” he says as he mutters the last two words. He quickly turns around to face you, shocking you in the process as you drop your arm. “I don’t know, Dom, maybe not have tabloids put pictures of you and different girls on its covers I’d assume?” you sarcastically said, referencing to the covers you have seen of him from the week before.

Dom cringed at your comment and shakes his head. “You seriously can’t believe what those tabloids say-they blow things out of proportion!” he says as he flails his arm out of frustration. “And did you expect me not to see other people? What was I supposed to do, sit and mope around, waiting for you to come back to me? Please, do enlighten me!” he encourages. “Tell me how I can get over you because I am desperate to get you out of my fucking head,” he rants angrily, loud enough to get the attention of several guests.

He pauses to catch his breath. Before opening his mouth again to spill his suppressed thoughts.

“You were my heart, my soul, my whole fucking body—my entire life revolved around you!” he yelled, not as loud, but his frustration was emphasised as he stresses every syllable. Every bit of pride he held onto dissipates, showing his true feelings that still held onto you.

Offended, you retaliated. “You act as if I didn’t do the same for you! But I’m not stood here telling you how much I’ve missed you after I’ve fucked about with random guys!” you replied, matching his volume.

“I’ve never fucked anyone since you, so don’t ever fucking accuse me of that,” he says in disgust. “And you have no right to tell me how I should cope, when you left me! You were the one who left!”, he points at you repeatedly. “You left me with nothing,” he says nearly out of breath, and drops his arms to his sides.

“It surely didn’t seem like it when you go through girls like they’re some kind of pitstop!” you angrily responded. “I was fucking hurt! You fucking broke me! I was sad and desperate, give me a fucking break!” he says as he brings his hands to his forehead. “And don’t act so innocent,” he spits out. You give him a confused face, unsure as to what he meant. “I know you’ve been out with him,” he emphasises. “Yeah, our friends talk,” he states the obvious.

You knew who he was talking about. The friend he fell out with, another footballer friend. Things got too competitive, the words exchanged at the end of a match too harsh to redeem with a handshake. The same friend who could’ve sworn he chatted you up first, but you and Dom’s connection was too strong to deny. Of course, it was nothing like he insinuated. His friend, or, former friend, rather, had dipped his toes into the world of fashion, which caught the attention of your seniors. They assigned you to an interview with him, knowing your connections in the sporting industry and knowledge of it, as you dated a footballer after all. “Th-that was nothing,” you shake your head in disbelief, shocked at what you’re being accused of. “Bullshit,” he curses. He still remembers the day he saw you two on the news. Dominic Calvert-Lewin’s Ex Moves On with His England Teammate?, the headline says. Beneath it were pictures of his former friend sitting opposite you, as you two enjoy each other’s company at his favourite breakfast place in London. It is your favourite too. He recalls trying to ignore the jealousy, he tried to stop reading gossip sites that had the tendency to over-exaggerate, but he couldn’t. It made him angry, so angry, he threw his phone across the room and smashed it into a wall, its screen shattering. Sick and nauseous, he ran to the bathroom and dunk his head into a toilet bowl, dispensing the contents of that day’s breakfast. The effect you had on him was still potent and undying.

Your conversation was interrupted when you feel a hand wrap its fingers around the back of your arm, surprising you as you jump a little. “Hi, hun, everything okay?”, asked two of your friends, who spotted you as they were making their way to the bathroom. You nodded and gave them a smile, “I’m okay,” you whispered. They were beyond shocked to have seen Dom, but they knew better than to mention the obvious. “Give us a shout if you need anything,” your other friend says softly. You nodded. Your friends waved at Dom, then walked to where they were headed, which Dom did the same before you two returned to your conversation.

You take a deep breath before speaking. “You know I never meant to hurt you, Dom,” you look at him with sad eyes. “You know why I had to end things with you, I honestly thought you understood,” you say as you try your best to blink the tears away. “No, I never understood, and I still fucking don’t,” he says as his large hand grips the surface of the wall.

“None of this makes any sense to me! I understand that it is important for you to prioritise your career, be in control of your life or whatever it was you said,” he throws a hand up. “But I will never understand why you had to sacrifice me in the process, of all things,” he replies with absolute honesty. “So, what? You expect me to drop every possibility of starting a career instead, and invest all my time and energy in you?” you ask in disbelief. “That’s not fair, Dom!” you argue.

Dom throws his head back out of frustration as you cross your arms. “I would’ve fully supported you every step of the way, given you the space you needed, anything!” he responds. “But instead you left, and took my entire life with you,” he argues back, panting as he tried to catch his breath. “You didn’t have to leave,” he quietly says.

You two look at each other in silence, both feeling the pain the other endured. The pain heavy, overwhelming, a sinking feeling.

“I wasn’t trying to compromise you,” you say softly. “I had felt so detached from myself and made you the centre of my life and I was fucking terrified, Dom,” you try to justify yourself. “Had you left me at any point, I wouldn’t have survived it,” you sigh.

“Had I left you? How could you ever assume that? You think I am strong enough to be apart from you for even just a day? For fuck’s sake,” he curses as he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose out of frustration.

“I never said you would, I said if you did,” you clarify.

“So, you’re saying you left me purely due to a hypothetical scenario? Come fucking on. Don’t you fucking get it?,” he pauses. “You left me because you were afraid you couldn’t live without me, when that was never the case to begin with. If anything, it was the other way around,” he mutters the last sentence, just enough for you to hear.

“What?”, you asked, looking up at him.

“If one of us were to be too attached to the other person, it would be me. I’m not even fucking ashamed to admit that. I’m just pissed you assumed I could ever leave you. And that you broke my heart,” he reveals, a little too much for his liking but he didn’t care. You had to know.

“I-I never knew you were this upset,” you reply, still trying to process what he just said. “Clearly,” Dom says with sarcasm. “All you do is assume,” he comments. “That’s not fair,” you respond. “None of this is,” he quickly says. “I’m sorry I hurt you, I hope you know I would never intentionally do anything to make you feel that way,” you try to assure him. “Yeah okay,” he looks away.

Silence fills the room once again. What used to only be comfortable silence between you two turned into awkward, deafening silence. Silence between two people still in love with one another, both stubborn, both hotheaded, both their egos in the way.

You hated this. You wanted out. Your heart could no longer handle the different coexisting emotions, the sadness, anger, exasperation, confusion, equally intense, equally felt. It was all too much.

“I-I think I’m just going to go, it’s been lovely to see you, I'm sorry again Dom, truly. Have a great-“, “You’re fucking joking,” he cuts you off and shakes his head. You sigh, surprised at this interruption. “What now, Dom?” you asked, a little agitated.

“You’re leaving? After I’ve poured my heart out to you? Fucking pathetic that,” he said angrily. “What else was I supposed to say, Dom! I told you I was sorry, I told you I didn’t mean to hurt you! What more do you want?”, you responded with aggravation.

“YOU! I want you! How could you be so dense? Honestly, fuck this—you broke my fucking heart and I am not going to let you walk away from me again,” he gestures angrily. “This time I’m leaving you, have a great fucking night,” he says as he storms off, taking half of your heart with him.

At that moment, it felt as though every effort you had put into moving on, all your self-care nights, girls night outs, mental health days, music playlists of happy songs, immersing yourself in work, suddenly meant nothing. All your efforts were countered, destroyed after seeing him again for the first time in months. All you could do was stand there and watch him leave you standing alone, under the blue Mykonos sky with the most breathtaking view of the island, whilst heartbroken once again. The perfect irony.

You were left in shock. You could see Dom walking through the crowd where everybody was partying from your peripheral vision. It took him way too quickly for your liking to wrap his arms around a certain blonde-haired girl in a blue dress you recognised from tabloid pictures. You feel a sharp pain in your chest from a sight you never wanted to see. You knew you had no right to feel this way since you were the one who left, but it hurt you nonetheless.

Two things could’ve come out of this scenario. You could a) suck it up, take three straight tequila shots and party the night away with your girls, who are increasingly growing concerned about your whereabouts, or b) you could call it a night and figure your heart out.

After moments of deliberation, you chose the latter option. The intense conversation you had with Dom was too emotionally draining for you to continue on. Seeing your ex on the exact trip you booked with your girls to remedy your heartache, listening to him tell you how much you’ve broken his heart, how he wants you, but proceed to wrap his arms around another girl minutes after, all in one night... you could not bear it all. You quietly made a swift exit and made sure to text your girls’ group chat as you’re walking.

Babes, I’m heading back to the villa. Rough night. Details tomorrow. Will leave some paracetamol on the counter. Be safe and have a blast! Love you. X

You took the furthest route towards the exit door away from the party scene, not giving your friends a chance to even stop you. You wrap your arms around your body, holding yourself together as your heart crumbles. The only affection you could seek from is yourself. The pain of growth slowly paying off, as you manage to at least leave the scene in one piece.

However, despite extra efforts to not get noticed, Dom caught you slipping out of the club.

You stood outside the breezy Mykonos night and waited for your taxi to come. What just happened? You thought to yourself. You were a bit tipsy from the drinks, your tired body making you feel a little delirious. It seemed like it was all a dream, a nightmare perhaps, but it isn’t. That actually happened. You inhale the fresh air, and pace your breathing to calm your nerves. The background music spilling from the narrow gaps of the doors slowly fade as you close your eyes and focus on your peace.

Peaceful silence suddenly interrupted by a loud sound of doors bursting open.

What the fuck was that? you thought to yourself as you turn your head towards the loud noise. Your heart nearly stopped when you saw Dom clumsily stumble through the door. “What are you doing?” you asked, completely taken aback.  “I saw you walk out,” he says out of breath. “And I know you like to go on walks to clear your head. I was making sure you weren’t, this isn’t the place where you could do that safely,” he continued.  “I know, I’m waiting for a taxi,” you say quietly.  Dom nodded. “Okay,” he looks away. “Be safe,” he says as he looks at you one last time. You look at him with a sad smile and nod.

As Dom retreats back into the club, he had to hold his chest, clutching where his heart is to contain the pain of seeing you force a smile at him, it was too intense, he couldn’t bear it. He wanted nothing more than to pull you into his arms and tell you again how in love with you he is, but he knows his heart can’t take another heartache.

So Dom does what he does best, fake a smile, join his friends, and power through the night despite the building anxiety of being away from you. He feels sick to his stomach and would love nothing more than to call it a night. He goes on to reject every girl who threw themselves at him left and right, which Mason took notice of.

“Mate you okay? You don’t seem like yourself,” asks Mason. “(Y/N). She’s here. Well, she was,” Dom says. “Here? In Mykonos?”, Mason asks in disbelief. Dom nods his head. “Shit. What happened?” asked his concerned friend. “Told her she broke my heart. I lost my head. Told her I want her, then walked away,” muttered Dom as he looks down to play with his fingers. “Mate, I mean, do you still want her? Even after everything you went through?” Mason asks carefully, cautious to push any buttons.

Dom takes a deep breath.

“There is nothing in this life I want more than her,” he spills, looking at his friend dead in the eye.

“You know what you have to do, Dom.” Mason says.

[iwannaholdyoutight-]

Pintaga (a summer fic challenge)

Fresh fruit. Friends to lovers. Longing.

a/n: it’s finally here! This piece of writing couldn’t happen without the one and only @helladirections. She organized this amazing challenge and you guys should read everything from her and this challenge. Please, don’t forget to reblog, this is my first fic in a very long time and I would love to see people reading it.

word count: 8k

Preview:

In the air Harry could smell the jasmines, coming from the perfume of the girl with the blue heart shaped sunglasses and dressed with a yellow one piece with little white flowers sewed to it - a vintage piece she got just the day before on a thrift shop when they were exploring. He could listen to the faint Mick Jagger voice repeating the verse “pretty pretty girl” and he couldn’t disagree, she was a pretty girl indeed.

There was nothing he wanted more than get her in his arms, tell her he didn’t know it was possible to fall in love without even kissing the person for a first time. He wanted to press his nose into her neck and feel the shivers that would pass through her body.

When Harry had to postpone his tour, he was sad. But, when 2021 finally came, he was just so happy to be able to reconnect with his fans. To see people’s faces and knowing that each person has their own story to tell when they listen to his songs. He loves that. 

It was during tour that he met Angelino, a new music producer with very different methods in his technique: zither in a mix with glam rock, alfaias with hip hop. To put it short: they became fast friends when they met on a night out after the Vegas show. 

And it was thanks to Angelino he met her. It was raining so much when the words left his friends mouth “I want you to meet someone” yet she was the sunshine walking inside the hotel. 

She wasn’t shy but also didn’t do everything to draw any attention to her. Harry was captivated to say at least. Maybe was her smile or maybe was the way she looked with such care when taking to anyone. Sadly, they couldn’t see each other for longer than a few hours. Harry had a plane to catch, she was a movie and arts major in Italy and was only there to visit a friend. But Harry just couldn’t let her go, there was something about her, he wanted to know what was hidden behind those colorful outfits she wore and all the smart talk they had during that same rainy afternoon. Being in his position he had to be careful, what he would give to be “normal” for just 5 minutes so he could flirt with this cute girl, get her number and maybe ask her on a date. But he wasn’t. So he settled with an Instagram follow and a promises she would dm him books and movies he should check it up. 

The first book she made him read was Dorian Gray - she was shocked to know he never read anything by Oscar Wilde. In exchange he tried to make this curious stubborn girl give Murakami a second chance (she still hates the book and he couldn’t lie, he got a bit sad about it). 

After a few months of conversation he finally gave in and asked for her number. From this day on, they would never stop texting each other, to the point Jeff would complain about how “he’s always on his phone and never actually listening”. 

He got so close to her and was admired with how free she was. After 20 something years stuck in her hometown she decided she wanted to met the world. Entered this course in Italy with a scholarship (she is very smart to the point it Harry is intimidated) and never looked back. 

Harry told her about his first big break up, that inspired Fine Line, told her about his fears and how love is a difficult subject when it comes to him. The loving part it’s easy the problem is when the enchantment dies and all there is left are two broken people. The one to move on first it’s always the happiest. 

But he couldn’t always live on his phone talking to this girl who makes him weak in the knees. He had interviews to attend and shows to perform. When tour finally ended, he was tired but sad, a deep space in his heart felt so empty. It’s the first time in three years he didn’t have nothing planned and he was only starting his new album in a few months. 

Harry needed a break, a nice holiday. Sadly London was cold and so was his emotions. So, when that same girl told him about this island called “Fernando de Noronha” around the South American continent and that her aunt got a house there and asked if he wanted to join her on 10 days trip there… he just couldn’t say no! 

It’s summertime whenever she is around and well… it is summertime in the south so it’s a win win for Harry, honestly. 

🐠

And that’s where Harry finds himself right now… bathing in the sun together with this amazing girl that makes him feel all mushy inside and nervous. He is almost a 30 year old man, he shouldn't be so nervous around her, but it’s inevitable. 

The moment he got off the plane, he was in love. The island was beautiful. Blue skies that mix with the blue of the ocean and the horizon. Everything seemed to be made out of glitter and rainbow colors. There was music every night, people were singing and dancing. During the day there was street fairs, boat rides and the beautiful golden light that was didn’t come only from the sun, but also a light that shined through this amazing young woman when she was laughing and trying (and failing) to play volleyball with a group of teens on the beach. They didn’t stay in a fancy hotel, they were in a simple yet beautiful house, without any neighborhood but when they went out they always went to the simplest places, surrounded by simple people. People who might know who he was, but mostly just didn’t care. Sure, he was asked to take some pictures but that was the most normal he ever felt since he was a teenager. There was a rich part in the island, lots of famous people from South America liked to spend their summer there- but for one, Harry was grateful to stay like this. 

All thanks to her...

The summer breeze in his face being exactly what he needed. He was living those sweet days of summer he was denied in 2020 because of the pandemic and in 2021 because of the tour. 

In the air Harry could smell the jasmines, coming from the perfume of the girl with the blue heart shaped sunglasses and dressed with a yellow one piece with little white flowers sewed to it - a vintage piece she got just the day before on a thrift shop when they were exploring. He could listen to the faint Mick Jagger voice repeating the verse “pretty pretty girl” and he couldn’t disagree, she was a pretty girl indeed. 

There was nothing he wanted more than get her in his arms, tell her he didn’t know it was possible to fall in love without even kissing the person for a first time. He wanted to press his nose into her neck and feel the shivers that would pass through her body. 

He wanted to kiss her and keep her forever by his side so they could be happily ever after. But Harry couldn’t. He was bad at love and he would rather have her as a friend than doing something and fucking up her as well.

“What did you say” she asked while lifting up from the towel she had on the floor, raising her sunglasses over that beautiful sun kissed hair (it was shining so much) and attentively looking at him. 

“I didn’t say a thing” was he thinking out loud? Oh my god… he is fucked if that was that case. 

“You said something about being bad at love. Why do you think that?”

Harry sat down and took a deep breath. 

“I talked to you about my love life before… I don’t think I was made for love. Some people can find love at every corner, but it doesn’t matter how hard I try, every time I think I got it right… the person just vanish out of the tips of my fingers. And I feel so bad talking about this when I know I can have anything I want, but it hurts when I’m alone in a bedroom or I’m being the third wheel again with my friends. I’m just so lonely all the time and every time I try… it just ends shitty. I get a few good songs out of it but the pain sometimes it’s just not worth it”. 

She looked at the ocean, the sun was already so high in the sky, it was probably around 11 am. Then, looking back at Harry, she gave him a weak smile. She felt like he was a mixture of everything good and he didn't deserve to feel like he wasn’t cut for love. If she could and he let her… she would give him all the love it was possible and impossible. 

“Just because it ended doesn’t mean it was bad. If it made you happy, even if just for one second, it was worth it. And even when it hurts, we always learn something.” She took a deep breath, waiting for him to say something while Harry just looked at her with soft eyes but so much sadness and sorrow behind them. He didn’t know what to say, so she decided to continue: “you know, I call it bullshit when poets say love is only good if it hurts. Love isn’t made for pain, sometimes it might happen, but love is made to give warmth and to make the soul feel like it’s being caressed in a whisper that says ‘you found me’. And there are many types of love, not all of them are made to last a lifetime”. 

He gave her a smile: 

“Do you think there is still someone to love me or have I missed my chance?” 

That was her chance: 

“I think if you look right… you will find it right next to you, so close it would surprise you” she gave him a knowing look and decided to change the subject “wanna put on some clothes and go to the street fair? We can have lunch in there, buy some nice fresh fruits and have a picnic when the sun starts to set. You can make a playlist while a set a nice towel with candles and everything we might need. Maybe… we could try some of that stuff I got yesterday, what do you say?” 

That stuff being the Argyreia seeds a friend of her had given as a gift. They were in the fridge inside a pot of water - apparently you have to leave them at least 12 hours on it so it could be ready to use. Among the effects they found of Google you could suffer from synesthesia episodes, positive elevation of your humor, sensitive to touch among others. A normal (and legal, apparently) natural hallucinogen. 

Harry decided to play cool with her confession (he thinks it was a confession) and just smirks at her as a confirmation for the rest of their day. Maybe then, he’ll have the courage to kiss her. He gets up first, offering his hand, she takes it, getting up. Being barefoot, she had to look up to talk to him, their hands intertwined, noses almost touching. Looking inside his eyes, she thinks Harry must be a magical being, that could be the only explanation to how his eyes could change color to match the nature. Normally green but right now his eyes were almost blue, maybe was the sun, maybe was the sky without a single cloud; one thing was clear: his eyes were matching the ocean and the sky but also the leaves on the palm trees with the green left in them. 

Leading the way, they got inside the house. In a secluded area (you just had to walk a lot but it wasn’t in the middle of the fancy big mansions- the house was colorful - just like everything about this island). The wood backdoor was the way they go when coming back from the beach . As soon as they entered through the gate, was a little stone way, with red and pink poppies adorning both sides, they went to the shower the house had on the outside so none of them would make a mess inside the house with sand everywhere. Then, I sei de the house, walking through the open plan kitchen, that was out of a sixties movie. Almost everything looked vintage with the most beautiful dining table they had ever seen: made out of dark wood and tall chairs, her aunt said this table was from her great grandmother. 

Then there was two little steps and it was the living room, with a lot of space, three couches and a lot of pieces of art, it looked like someone had just throw different items but, somehow made it work. Harry went to sit on a plastic chair there was right in the corner of the room and looked at the very wet very sunburnt girl:

 “You can go get ready first, I’ll wait” she smiled and thanked him, going upstairs and leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. Looking at the yellow wall full of paintings from the people of the island, he didn’t know what to do to himself, he was fucked. He got up from the chair and went to the vinyl player that stood on the far left of the living room with three boxes next to it, opening he found a lot of vinyls. Settling for one he never heard before: Caetano Veloso - Transa, he put to play. He knew about Caetano, he even putted one of his songs to play at the one night only event, the name of the song was Baby and at the time was his ex girlfriend who had showed him, but right now the only thing he could think about when listening to this very psychedelic song that was playing through the speakers, the only thing he could think about is the same girl who is taking a shower just a few feet away and how much he wants the hours to pass faster so they can get high and listen to the playlist he was making and was to add also this album he was listening, especially after a quick google research about it, having now the acknowledge that transa translates to sex. 

She came downstairs with her hair still wet, wearing her old pink converse and a yellow sundress, with the cute straps and a short but very loose ends. She had this glow someone can only achieve when you just spend the day at the beach with dear ones. Free of any makeup she was with his ray bans and gave him a soft look “I hope you don’t mind I got your ray bans to wear. They just look they were made for this outfit”. 

“No problem. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be done”. 

Taking the fastest shower he ever took in his life, he put on some old jeans short and his favorite pink summer shirt. And he ran - literally ran - downstairs because he felt like this was a date. He was excited. 

“So, wanna take the bikes or see if we can get an Uber” there was this thing, neither one of them had the license required for the island and even if the Uber app worked there… it was hard to find drivers who were willing to drive to such a far area. 

“Let’s take the bikes. They have baskets so whatever we buy we can just carry back” 

“Sure”  

They went through the front door, the house was painted in blue, to match the ocean, with lots of different plants and those same plants, especially the clambering plants, gave the house this almost fairy vibe. Like it was made of a golden and rainbow dust and everything that it’s good. The bikes were located near the wall and close to the small pool. One bike was white and the other was of a bright orange. Harry got the bright one because it was slightly bigger, so he would feel more comfortable. 

🍓

They rode the bike for around 10 minutes, passing fields and trees that were so tall it almost felt like their leaves were kissing each other. Harry kept ruming gold and braid by stevie nicks the whole ride while dividing his attention between the girl riding the white bike a few meters ahead and the surrounding area. There was no one in sight for the first few minutes, but the closer they got to the center of the island, more people started to appear. In a few days living in the island  he already observed that he could pinpoint who was a tourist and who was a native by one thing: the clothes. 

The citizens always dressed like it was just a normal day (like imagine you normal day it’s living in paradise) and people from the outside always went out like it was a beach party everyday. As soon as Harry notice that, he always made sure to dress quite simple, so people could pass him by. Of course, sometimes someone would try and talk to him with the native language (which he learned is portuguese and not spanish, as he originally thought it would be). 

They descarted their bikes on a small wall that was made for this purpose, with digital locks and everything (it was 5 bucks the hour and all you had to do when it was the time to pick it up you just put on your card to pay for the time you used the spot). They started to walk towards the street fair that was in a pretty street with old houses from the colonial era. The more they walked, closer their bodies touched and closer they were from holding hands. 

People never talk about the conversation that goes when it comes to small touches. Sometimes, a small caress of a finger against someone's hand, it’s more than the act of touching, it’s an act of questioning: are we feeling the same? I wanna hold you hand like my soul it’s holding yours, please take care of it, because it’s your to take. 

They started holding hands the moment the took a turn to the street fair, and if anyone looked at them, would say there were a couple. And it was nothing more that their entire wish that that statement was actually truth.

In the window of a red brick house there was an old man with his guitar, he sung something of their culture and a few people were dancing to it like it was a show. Harry was so in love with this environment, people lived and breathed culture. It was a break he never needed. He already went all around the world and it was on a simple island that he found something he didn’t know it existed.

“Where do you want to go first?” Asked the girl looking up at him and squirting her eyes because of the sun. She had his sunglasses but they were acting more like a headband to that mess it was her hair than to their actual function: protect her shining beautiful eyes from the sun. 

“How about we go and buy those fruit for our late evening picnic and then we go have lunch? And from there we see where to go”.

“Seems like a plan, let’s find the vendor with the most variety of fruits, wanna taste them all” And I wanna taste you, thought Harry but he just accepted it wasn’t the time yet. He didn’t want their first kiss to be in the middle of a fair with so many eyes watching. Harry hasn’t been recognized too much but he couldn’t risk too much. 

Walking they passed a group of old ladies - like maybe in their 80s- selling beautiful handmade dresses and skirts and shirts, all made in white lace. Such a beautiful work, and Harry made a mental note to come back later and get something for his mother and sister. That was something they would like. 

Finally they reached a wooden table full of different fruits and behind it was an older and a younger man, if they had to guess, they would say there were grandfather and grandchild because of their faces similarities: dark skin with very powerful green eyes. While one had the blackest hair either one of them had see, the other one had silver strings in different parts of his hair. In their mouth they carried a soonting smille. They approached the table and the older one started to talk in the native language and he was speaking in such a enthusiastic manner that Harry didn’t have the heart to explain he new close to nothing about portuguese. But the young man seemed to have noticed who he was, touching the talking fella head and saying something in his ear. He stopped talking and was, now, quiet, but never ending the smile in his face. 

“Sorry about that. My name is Sol. What can I do for you guys?” The girl beside Harry gave him this shining smile and started talking:

“Hi, Sol.That means Sun right?” 

“Yeah, my family it’s a very hippie family. Actually I have two sisters: one it’s called Lua, her name translates to ‘moon’, and the other it’s called Frida. By the way,if it’s not too much problem Mr. Styles, I would like to get an autograph for them, they are big fans of you. And what about your name, sunshine?” asked the young man. Harry was jealous he was flirting with her - and he wasn’t entitled to feel jealous, but that’s what he was feeling - so he put his arms around her and told her name getting an angry yet amused look from her. 

“And no problem about the autograph… we would like to take a bit of everything you can recommend us. We are going to do a picnic and want to try everything that it’s different”.

“But please add a bit of those gorgeous strawberries, they look yummy”said the girl next to him “ and what it’s that?” she pointed to a pink yet green round fruit. 

“That is pink mango, very famous around this island. She is sweeter than the normal ones you found, actually there are over 24 different types of mango around the south territory, but right now we only have this one. But we’ll be getting more around monday morning if you guys are interest.” He gave them a time to think if they wanted to buy it or not.

“I love mango. Put 3 of these, please.” Harry said giving a genuine smile, everybody knows how much he loves fruit… among other stuff that could be fruit related. He saw a small fruit, that looked like a cherry but it had this red/orange to it’s tone and it wasn’t completely round, so he asked: “Sol, what is this type of cherry?”

“Oh that one? That it’s pitanga. This fruit smells like trees and something sweet that takes you back to your childhood, if you lived on this island” he laughed like he was remembering a distant memory inside of his green eyes but continued soon afterward his little journey through memory lane “My mother used to say this fruit it’s like when you fall in love at first sight: first comes the infatuation, the smell that reminds you there is so much good in the world and all of the good is all in one person. Then, when you first bite to it, first it has a sour taste, like when you get insecure about first kissing someone, but they, you get the courage and kisses them… and it’s amazing and sweet.” 

Well Harry didn’t need more and said:

“Give me 12 strawberries, a few limes so we can make drinks, those mangos,a bit of that gelly that looks yummy, and half  a pound of those pitangas”

“All done. That is going to be 25 and 75 cents” Both Harry and the girl tried to pay the guy, in the end, she ended up paying, earning a glare from Harry and looking at him like saying ‘what’. The boy returned with the change and the piece of paper for the autograph, Harry signed told him he would be back monday morning to get those other types of mangos and he could bring his sisters if he wanted to,he would gladly meet the girls. 

They said their goodbyes and continued their walking, now holding hands without questioning. 

“You know out of all those fruits the one I’m more excited to taste it’s this pitanga one” she told Harry. 

“Me too”

He knew she was talking more than just the fruit.

And so was him. 

With the sound of ocean and the winds in a mix with people chatter, they walked through the fair. Stopping for a quick lunch (some natural sandwiches with coconut water to wash it down) they looked around a vintage music store.

“It’s getting late, I wanna go back to the house if you don’t mind… get some sleep so I’m not tired when it’s time for our little luau” she said looking at him with tiresome eyes “oh maybe I’ll dress like a little witch!!!! So we can perform a little moon ritual”

That put a smile in Harry’s face. 

“You know Stevie would actually love this”

“I can’t help getting a bit starstruck every time you mention Stevie Nicks”  

“I get starstruck every time I remember that I’m actually her friend... it’s inevitable, she is a legend and an amazing human being”

They were walking and talking about Stevie Nicks and Harry was telling her all about the first time Stevie listened to Fine Line and by the time they got close to their bikes. Just like yesterday, Harry was ready to pay for their bikes parking lot but she was not having it. He was always paying for every little thing (the first time she got to pay anything was the fresh fruits just a few hours ago). So she looked at him when he was lost looking at the turquose sea and just ran away towards the bike.

She heard his scream- a soft loud HEY - and just when she was reaching for the bikes she felt two arms wrap around her waist and pull her out of the way. But they both lost their balance, falling towards the wall of bricks next to the bikes. Her head hit the wall a little bit to harshly makig her let out a low “oh” all that while he crushed her into the same wall. 

Puting his hand in fits next to her face, Harry took his face off and lowered to be abble to look at the pretty girl in the eyes. He noticed she was standing on her toes to get closer to him, if he took a deep breath he could smell her perfume, a mix of peach and tangerine. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had never been as close to her as he were now. Harry was abble to see how beautiful eyes eyes were when the sun was high up in the sky and his face too close, he could see how her eyebrows had a thin yet natural draw or how her cupid bow were a little bit more colored than the rest of her lips. He could listen to the wind, bringing a message from the ocean: “it’s time to kiss her, you fool”.

He took her messy hair from her eyes, cradling her face in on hand while the other was kept on the wall, so he could have a sense of what was real. It was the perfect moment. 

Or not. 

Time simply wasn’t on Harry’s side, as he thought. Because someone started to yell at him in a language he couldn’t pinpoint the country, maybe Russia because of how pale was the old couple looked. They were point at the bikes and yelling at them, people were looking and she was blushing. 

“I think they want to park their bikes and we’re on their way” she told him “maybe we should just go home. 

 🍄

The sun was now close to say it’s farewell for the day. While Harry was busy making a nice playlist (and also giving himself a talk: “you are going to kiss her tonight”. Maybe if started to say all the time like a mantra in would come true). She was making the perfect ambience for a beach party for two. Opening in the sand a round beach towel with lots of candles for when the only light in the sky was the moon and stars. The fruits all in pretty plates made out of wood and she also melted dark chocolate - it would look cool with the strawberries. 

The sky was a mix of pretty colors: pink and purple and orange and everything that would make a perfect painting . 

She was using this old seventies skirt from her mother (a tie dye skirt with all the colors of the rainbow) and a Stevie Nicks shirt she stole from Harry the night before to sleep. Her hair was falling from her face, dancing with the wind just as her skirt. 

It was that moment that Harry made his appearance: his safe sex shirt, yellow shorts, barefoot, no rings. Smiling at her, she thought she looked like he looked like a prince out of every seventies groupies fantasies. 

Harry was holding this old radio and in his hand there was a mixtape. Only Harry would come up with the idea of using this old radio that her aunt left at the house as a source for playlist making. Spotify playlist just wasn’t enough if he wanted impress her. In the words of his friend Rob Sheffield: “mixtapes are like pictures but with sound”. 

And Harry was planing of making this evening a picture he would always remember with lovin’ care. 

“Doesn’t he looks handsome” she walked towards him to help him with settled everything he brought down. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was blushing. 

“The seeds are ready if we want to try it now” Harry said changing the subject. 

“Let’s go. It takes half an hour to kick and till then we can talk some more” 

 The seeds didn’t have any taste, almost like any pill you wash down with water. 

“Wanna eat one of those fresh fruits?” He said getting a piece of de the pitanga “quite anxious to try this one” he said getting one of the small pitanga fruits. 

At first bite it was quite bitter, he was glad Sol had told him about that. But the more he ate, the sweater it got. It was something he couldn’t describe. 

“So what do you think?”  She asked. 

“The explanation that Sol gave to us it’s the best one. It changes taste the more you get used to it. The same is with feelings, right?” 

She smiled at him and opened her mouth: “give me some then….” He got one of the fruits and feed her. But he didn’t take his hands of her, leaving there so he could feel her neck veins move with her chewing. 

“It’s so sweet in the end… almost like an orgasm”. Harry was fucked. 

The time passed and they talked about anything and everything. The sun was almost all the way down as they looked over the horizon. 

“So… is it starting to hit for you? ” she asked with a coy smile while getting herself more of the fruits. 

He saw her red lips curve around the fruit and suddenly everything was changing colors. The world was red as the fruit she was (so deliciously) tasting. Red like the passion he was beginning to feel for this carefree girl. But she... she was golden. Her aura was just shining through her. 

It’s no secret he falls in love with people with golden aura- Stevie has said so herself when he first showed her his second album - and she is shining so much he thought the sun had come down to earth. 

Maybe she was the sun, even if it the stars were starting to take their place high in the sky, she was sunshine. His sunshine. It’s never night when she’s around.

“You know, it’s starting to hit” 

“And how do you know that?” 

“You’re golden” 

She laughed at him

“Are you quoting to me a song you wrote about another woman, Styles?” 

“No. It’s your aura. It’s shining. And is golden” 

That left her with no answer. 

“What about you?”  

“What about me?” 

“Seeing anything?” 

She could see the rainbow inside his eyes. She was always attached to everything that was colorful, from a young age. And right now there was this rainbow of lights playing with her vision. And it was all because of this beautiful young man standing right in front of her. 

“Yeah, I think I can see everything” happy with her mysterious answer, she looked at the ocean. The waves were moving slow and in pretty rhythm, inviting her to dance together. 

Today all of the nature was rooting for them. Getting another pitanga she could feel the sour before the sweet. Giving her body chills. She looked at him and those chills only got stronger but so was her bravery: “will you dance with me?” she asked. 

“Well... of course young maiden I shall dance with you” he laughed at his own joke while getting up and offering his hand. 

In that moment their worlds collided: their hand were glued together seeding all of different feels from one body to another. They didn’t need to talk to understand: there was a feeling of belonging neither of them never felt even if once they thought they did. This was a moment once in a lifetime: the moment you look at someone and you see them slightly different from one minute ago. When all of the puzzles pieces starts to make sense: what they were feeling from the moment they got on this island wasn’t only attraction it was months of friendship that intertwined them towards something stronger. Something they knew it was blooming inside their chest. Something new, something exciting. 

Something beautiful.

He twirled her in his arms and then let her rest her head in his chest, right where his heart was beating so loud and fast, just for her. 

“You know it feels like the world is almost too much right now” Harry heard her say “it seems like there are more sound than before, the ocean is actually a song ya comes together with your heartbeat and when you touch me it feels like there is a more to than just a simple touch, like it’s your souls that’s touching me, you know?” He starts to caress her right arm with the tip of his finger, he wanted her to feel more of whatever this she was describing. “Or maybe that’s just the seeds talking but it just feels like something I never had before” 

God, she looked beautiful right now blushing with all the glitter around her and her lips red from all the fruits. 

It’s time. 

“I wanna taste those pitanga lips. Can I?” He asks while still caressing her arms with the tips of his fingers, getting her dizzy and seeing everything with light tones of pink, just like the shirt he wore to the street fair. She wants so much that in a moment of pure infatuation she raises her hand, feeling his chestnut curls, looking into his green eyes that looked almost a dark blue due to the lighting and finally she answered: 

“Anytime. Everywhere. Anywhere” 

He gave her a soft kind of fucked up smile, getting a good grasp of her hair and pulling her towards his mouth. 

She spent so much of her time wondering how does Harry Styles kisses but nothing could get her ready to what she felt in that moment. His lips were a bit chapped because of the sun and the weather, they both were a bit clumsy because they couldn’t feel their faces but the soft touch of his tongue contrasting with tight grasp he had on her hair was making her body feel like it was part of the sand they were standing while he was the ocean, one doesn’t belong without the other, in a painting they would always be together and if that kiss was any indication... so would be their lives. 

He gave her a small bite on the lips and laughed: “I’m so sorry, I can’t feel my lips” and she started to giggle because she couldn’t feel a lot, but she could feel him. All of him. 

“I’m so glad we finally kissed” she said in a whisper. He looked inside of her eyes before putting his eyes right on her left cheek and flicking his eye lashes while she was having a fit with laughter... everything was too much in their state of mind. And this little touch made her feel like Harry has been tickling her soft skin for hours. 

“If you’re so glad that we kissed...  you wouldn’t mind if we kissed a bit more, right?” He said in a sensual whisper in her ear while giving little bites. 

She pulled him by his hair in a hungry attack. Moaning into his mouth. Sucking his tongue. Smiling when they took small break. 

They were standing, her on the tip of her toes, trying to reach him but Harry had other plans, whispering a small “come here” he took her by the waist and made her jump so he could walk back to the beach towel and sit down with her on his lap. 

With Harry’s hips between her knees, that wasn’t a inch to separate them. All of their bodies were touching and each particle inside of them was screaming in delight. The feeling of having someone near when the mind is in such a state of inebriation was out of this world. It was paradise. 

But maybe their state of mind is just a plus because Harry is pretty sure it could be 10 am on a Sunday and she would make him feel the same way he was feeling now: completely in bliss, in a hypnotic state of mind because of her pitanga lips and the warm energy. She was his sun, his warmth when they would feel could. A little piece of magic after so much pain in love. And Harry couldn’t deny anymore: he was falling. 

She stopped kissing him and decided to give small kisses in his neck and every time he moaned she would increase the strength of this kiss. 

Harry was quite literally seeing stars, but not only the ones in the sky. He was seeing the stars coming together in a show: each constellation was dancing on its own circle of star friends. And there were always changing color: pink, golden, red, silver. 

They were dancing in a celebration because two stars that were meant to be were finally coming together as one. 

That was the moment that Harry decided that he wanted more. He pulled her out of his neck and asked: “I love that you are wearing my old shirt but there is nothing more in this world that I would love more than being able to see you without it. Can I?” 

Her response was clear: raising her hands above her hand, the - now- moonlight caressing her form when Harry took her shirt off. She was perfect, every little thing about her was just so her, from the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra to how she had this little moon necklace and a little citrine stone resting right on her heart. 

He didn’t want to lose more time, he started to give little pecks on her nipples and when Harry heard a moan and a whisper saying “finally” he just went ahead and took the everything he could from her chest inside his mouth while his hand was playing with her right breast and his other hand was supporting her back so she wouldn’t fall off his lap. 

She was seeing stars, she could feel everything and anything. His mouth was powerful, like he knew all the buttons to push and that was only the beginning. Moving her hips in circle movements she started to moan more loudly. Using one hand to pull his hair and grinding faster on his growing dick and finally earning a full on moan from her she took his head of her chest and said “I need you, please take off your clothes” 

She didn’t have to say more. After this they disrobed so fast they didn’t knew they were able. Now, completely naked, she looked at Harry with a mischievous look and went back to his lap, but before she could do anymore than that, Harry stopped her, using his force to manhandle her body to a lay down position “I promise you that I will be inside you in a moment, but first, I need to taste you, I need to hear your moans and know that’s all because of me, all because of my tongue” 

She lost her power to speak but she was pretty sure she kind of screamed “yes” without intending to. 

Harry spread her open and looked at the mess that was between her legs. He did loved tasting the pitanga. But he was pretty sure that nothing would compare to the taste of her. 

He took his finger and started to pass lightly through the inside of her right thigh and she was trembling already “this seeds are making me more sensible fuck” he heard whisper. Smirking he answered her: “oh so this is all the seeds and not me? Pet, you are breaking my heart now”. 

In a revenge he took the same finger that was caressing her thigh and passed from her opening to her clit without any warning. 

“Fuck fuck FUCK please just touch me already. My whole body is burning in flames all I can see is a burning flame” he decided to end her suffering. Taking his thumb and lazily caressing her clit in slow but strong circles. 

“Are you happy now, Pet” 

“Yes but please, give me more” 

In a responde Harry took his tongue and licked her right on her clit and started to use the tip of his finger to tease her entrance. 

Her moans started to get louder and Harry didn’t have a care anymore, just her taste. That’s the only thing that matters. 

While his lips were sucking and licking her clit his finger were working inside of her. When he wanted to change he would put his finger in her clit and would go to her pretty hole and use his tongue to tease her. 

Every time he saw she was getting closer to her orgasm, he would stop what he was doing and would just use the tip of his finger to tease her while he kissed her thigh. When her breathing was back to a more concentrated peace he would get back to give her everything he could with his tongue and finger. 

And that went on for a while: lips, tongue, fingers. Saw her getting close? Stopped for a while. 

When he was doing the pattern for the third time she signed: “I need to come, please let me come?”

 Harry wasn’t doing this to be mean, he just wanted to be the only thing she could feel and see. Wanted this to be so good she would never want to be away from him again. And when he saw her trembling lips and eyes full of tear he new she has enough, so he moved his finger in a “come here” motion while she was wetting and wetting more and more his hand, dripping down to the towel and her screams were so loud that if there was a single soul in the almost private beach, he was sure they could listen. 

When she was done he took his finger off of her linking each one of them while patiently waiting so she could get back to her state of mind and tell him what she wanted next. 

“Hey, there is a condom in the fruit basket” she said 

“You dirty little thing, were you planning all of this?” Harry said taking the condom and opening carefully. 

“No but I had my hopes up” 

She looked so perfect with the sweat on her body dancing around the moonlight, he smiled and asked sweetly: “how do you want me?”

“I want you on top, want to be able to look inside your eyes” He wanted that, too. 

“Your wish is my command” whispered Harry while settling on top of her. He stroked her face with one arm supported beside her hand. “Are you ready for me” She nodded with starry eyes and asked:

“And you, are you ready for me?”

Harry guided himself inside her, getting his mouth closer to her left ear and whispered like it was a secret and she was the only one who had the right to hear: “I have been ready for you my whole life” and then he was inside of her. While she was breathing hard, he was whispering sweet nothing in her ear, trying to calm himself, he wanted this to last.

“You can move, you know” that was all Harry needed to start to pick up his pace, making sure every time he came closer to her his pubic bone would caress her clit. She was whimpering and he was completely hers. 

He picked her leg up on his shoulder and said: “I need…. fuck…. I need to get closer to you”. She was feeling all of him stretching her a little bit more every time he pushed himself inside of her. Hitting her g spot so perfectly she was seeing stars - and this time was all because of him, not the seeds. 

Her body was on fire and the delicious warmth was starting to form in the pit of her stomach. She was going to come again, and she was going to come hard. 

“Come on, baby. I can feel you squeezing me so hard. I know you wanna come. I need to feel it” Harry said, his movements becoming each time more out of rhythm, chasing his own peak. 

Bringing his hand to her clit, it was only three flicks of his fingers till she was shaking and her eyes were closing. Her mouth forming a delicious smile, one full of satisfaction. And it was watching her come that Harry felt his need to come as well. Closing his eyes and feeling his whole body shake with release. 

The only thing surrounding Harry was her. Her name. Her smell. The feeling of her. Everything was her. 

When their breathing was back to a normal rhythm and the moon and stars were high in sky, Harry looked over her naked body laid down on all the towels, surrounded by fruits and  golden from the candle lights. He was starting to sober up and there was so much he wanted to tell her, but he settled for one single sentence: 

“You are a wonderful creation” he told her. 

“Look at you quoting Dorian Gray to me!” She said smiling lightly “Do you remember that was the first dm I ever sent you? Telling you to read that book.” 

“Of course I remember. I remember everything you ever said to me” he started laughing with the memory “you know, after that message I went running to the closest book store? I wanted to do anything to have a reason to talk to you, even if it was just a dm. I wanted you to think of me all the time, because since that moment I saw you on that raining afternoon my heart started to beat in synchrony with yours” now it’s time to say everything, before it’s too late “you know I’m falling for you right?” 

She looked at him like he was the brightest star in the night. 

“I know, I’m falling in love with you too” she told him while laying her her on his chest and started to trace the butterfly tattoo “And now?” 

“Now I think I have a new song about another fruit to write”. They both started to smile, sealing the deal. She got another pitanga and popped into her mouth and he smiled. He was happy.

[gooobert]

YOUR DOMESTIC FELIX HEADCANONS. HAND EM OVER

DOMESTIC????? ;)

Alright!! SO I'll try to keep these hcs related to a unisex S/O (so you can insert any character in, like male/female [his gf, or any male/female surv]). This excludes killer dynamics bcos killer x surv just. *vomits*

But that's just my opinion ;))) when it comes to domestic Felix...

I'll take it in a couple of spins, all of which will focus on an 'after/escape The Entity' type of au. If you're also interested in a version that includes a general "pre-Entity" tidbit, I'd be more than happy to provide!! Just ask!!

In Felix's case, it's going to be something like his disappearance at Dyer Island being for a potential 1-3 years (depending on the life of this game going forward), so it's safe to assume that in all of these headcanons, his girlfriend is going to have moved on with her life, especially in regards to care for his now-alive child. You can still insert her into the headcanons if you wish, but realistically (imo), they would be separated.

Felix is actually more than understanding when it comes to his girlfriend moving on - the disappearance was something of a red flag, but authorities attributed it to a workplace accident/stress, or potentially even commitment issues - the restoration project along with the news of being a father isn’t a foreign recipe for a partner just up and disappearing. Felix's girlfriend wasn't exactly aware of his Imperiatti past - which can be summed up by the organization's secrecy, or Felix's repression of his former trauma - she never connected the dots when it came to his familiar clientele. She moved on, had their child, and even began seeing another man. Felix couldn't blame her, especially with how difficult it is to be a single parent. He feels a strong sense of empathy when it comes to that topic, especially when it was just him and his mom after his father’s disappearance.

It's not exactly clear - the whereabouts of Felix's mom, in present time - but I like to assume that he would move back into his former home, the Richter manor, and try to piece his old life back together again. He is able to regain partial custody of his child, and he is introduced to... his daughter. Before The Entity, Felix initially hoped for a son, so he could be the exact father figure he desperately needed when growing up (after all, he spent plenty of time in the realm thinking about how he would be the perfect model for his “son”), but he wouldn’t trade her for the world. It comes almost as a shock when his daughter prefers to play with more “masculine” toys and gets into a lot of the hobbies he enjoyed as a kid - especially reading/storytelling. She’s not exactly old enough to read books on her own, but Felix won’t hear the end of it unless she gets her nightly bedtime story. He fabricates fables and tales about people he met “from work,” and their various trips to foreign and unfamiliar realms. He can’t help but see the same face of wonder and skepticism that he used to have, just like when his father told him similar stories in his youth.

Felix also has this taut outlook and anxiety when it comes to raising his kid. Anybody is expected to be stressed over their first/only child, but Felix’s former worries and lack of social development drives him to be a parent that wants to teach his kid how to be independent as soon as possible; so she could have all the skills she needs when she’s older. He was privileged enough to live in a household where he never needed to cook, clean, or handle anything financial when he was growing up - everything was done by either the manor’s maids or his parents. Knowing the fear and self-doubt he had back in his early 20s, he is super serious about being there for his daughter. His other half may think he’s being a bit dramatic and a “helicopter parent” with how stressed he is, but he just wants to make sure she can hold her own in case an unfortunate circumstance ever did occur - it was an all-too-familiar threat for Felix when he was growing up; especially when he still desires to set an example for his late father.

The times when the German architect does “calm down,” he does his best to be there for his daughter. He’s got a nasty habit of spoiling her and his loved ones with gifts, despite being conscious about his wealth. Splurging on such activities/gifts gives Felix a sense of relief, where he can see his little girl raised with an innocent, positive childhood. One would assume he might be even jealous over her adolescence, but he’s just thankful he could be there physically and emotionally for his kid, and stop the painful cycle from ever reaching her. As much as Felix wishes he had his dad in his life to guide him, he takes it as a learning experience that made him stronger, and more deliberate and genuine with his parental responsibilities.

His parental approach is more about empathy and reasoning, and prefers to treat his little girl as a smaller adult rather than just a kid - he tries to soothe any of her anxieties about friends and school, but without sheltering her from the reality of the world once she’s old enough. He won’t admit it, but having her feel brave enough to confide in him with her personal issues/thoughts is his favorite part about being a father. He might have lost his father at a young age, but at least he can act as a mentor to his own child. It reminds him he’s doing the “right thing,” and this bond was what he dreamed of having in his youth. He can’t help but feel sentimental!

The Entity left Felix with more questions than answers, and as much as he wants to find out the mystery behind his dad, he decided that it was time to move on. The timeless years spent in The Fog gave him severe trauma, and he’s lucky he was able to resume a relatively normal life - a second chance to be there for his daughter and his S/O. He went into the realm to voluntarily search for his father, and he wasn’t able to uncover much during his time spent there. His partner may support him in his grief, but he’s come to understand that his feelings of loss may simply never go away - he’s just going to have to live with them. For him, his loss still feels like a fresh wound, but it’s not going to get any better than it is, currently. Felix wouldn’t consider himself hopeless, but he’s left with a sense of acceptance. He needs to be there for his new family, and he would rather be focusing on the domestic chapter in this new part of his life than reminiscing on the past. He did it long enough with The Pariahs before they disbanded, and he’d rather learn to live more in the present than caught up in the past.

If he doesn’t have custody over his kid, Felix is spending a majority of his time at work, where Lauren gladly takes him back into their architectural firm. He’s left with a lot of trauma from the trials, though, so it’s not unusual if he can’t make a business meeting or show up physically to work. He still carries his occupational responsibilities, but there’s just certain aspects of his old life that he could never get acclimated to doing again. He’s afraid of turbulence (the shaking and rumbling of the plane is too similar to the endgame collapse) and if he NEEDS to be at a business meeting/networking event, he has to leave early since the drive, of course, takes a lot longer than a flight.

When he is able to find some time alone with his other half and not feel any work pressure, they like to treat themselves to a vacation getaway! Even if it’s for a weekend, he takes holidays depending on if they need time to release some energy by doing something strenuous (skiing in the Alps) or maybe unwinding with something romantic or a new experience (wine/artisan goods). Felix isn’t the best with his words, and so he likes to show PDA to his partner when they have time together. Rather than asking, he simply does - a peck on the forehead when he gets ready in the morning, adjusting the clothing/jewelry on his spouse, or even just mindlessly rubbing/massaging his hands on their back. He knows how it feels to be touch-starved, and likes to make it a conscious effort to show his love through constant reassurances when his words fail.

[adelaiderhosynweasley]

It’s... It’s a Fucking BOY!?

“Pleeeease.” Adelaide whined as she hung off her father’s shoulders, dangling down his back from where she had clung on when he’d risen from the kitchen chair after breakfast. She had been hounding both him and her mother to allow her mate to come have a sleep over with her for the past two weeks nearly nonstop. At first it had been wonderful to be out of school but now, a month into the summer holiday, Addie was finding that she was really missing Gulliver quite a lot more than she had anticipated she would. Usually the Ravenclaw enjoyed the break from school. She would spend time down on the beach with her brother and sister, collecting shells and swimming, building sand fortresses and only returning to the house for meals some days. Or she’d be out with her chickens, Nugget trailing along after her while she sat with them, reading out loud stories from old books, collecting their eggs and making sure they had plenty of fresh feed and water. On rainy days, there was puddle jumping with Owena, shouting at the skies as it poured buckets down upon their skin, getting soaking wet until they were heading back into the small house to share a bath in order to warm up before curling up on the couch to play video games. Adelaide practiced her instruments, the piano and guitar, her precious xylophone, and the new violin sent from France by her great grandmother after Addie had expressed her interest in learning to play that one as well over the winter break. They had visited Shell Cottage several times to see their grandparents, and gone down the sea shore to see their other set. There had been yet another party at the Burrow, one to welcome the birth of another new cousin and a trip to Potter Manor where the children had run across the meadows full of wildflowers with Auntie Lils and Uncle Lorcan’s ever growing brood of girls.

Mama had insisted that Adelaide wait until her father got home form his most recent work trip before they made any kind of decisions about having friends over. It wasn’t that they didn’t want their daughter to have a friend, but this new soul she had become attached to wasn’t someone they had met before and with Louis’s line of work along with their last name… well, it was better to be safe than sorry. Perhaps if it had been Sunny Addie was asking to have over it would have been different. They had met the girl before as well as her parents on several occasions, but this new ‘Gully Stonefyre’ child was an anomaly. Who the fuck named their daughter ‘Gully’? Or was it a nickname? Another Ravenclaw, Addie had said, her best best best friend, which had then begged the question about what had happened with Sunny. Adelaide had frozen a bit at that before murmuring that Sunny liked spending time with Willow better now. The pair of girls had reconciled their relationship, but it wasn’t exactly what it used to be back before Sunny had properly hit puberty and Adelaide, well, hadn’t. Sunny had forgiven Addie for not telling her about her first and only kiss, but things had become a bit more strained than they used to be. As though they couldn’t confide in one another like they had before. A rift in the friendship that had left Addie spending far more copious amounts of time with Gully who had the same interests she did. Caerwyn had felt for her daughter, watching the way her face fell at the mention of Sunny but she hadn’t pressed the issue too much, only seeking the information she needed in order to realize that the girls were growing apart a bit, as was, unfortunately, the natural order of things sometimes.

Papa had returned the afternoon before, looking worn out as he always did when he got home from a trip. He’d been gone a full two weeks this time. The children knew better than to bother him too much on days like these. They’d snuggled on the couch with him for a bit until Caerwyn had gone to drag the silent Louis away into the bedroom. This was the course of things, the normal routine for when Papa came home from trips. Their bedroom door would close, blocking out the music playing from inside, a silencing charm on the walls and they would be gone for the next several hours while the children fended for themselves now that they were old enough to do so. When they’d been smaller, Caerwyn would always tote them off to a relative to be baby sat for a while so she and Louis could have a bit of private time. When they got home Papa would be there, excited to see them. After the bedroom, they would shower together, and Papa would look much more refreshed. She wasn’t entirely sure what it was her parents were doing in there, but she had always grown up assuming Papa just needed a nice restful nap with Mama and a shower before he’d feel better. Of course, she was a little more aware now of what may or may not have been going on in her parent’s bedroom, but she’d rather not think about it, pushing the grossness out of her mind. Now, the next morning, with more sleep under his belt, Adelaide had no qualms about bothering her father for what she wanted.

“Let your dumbass Papa at least finish his fucking coffee, Shit Nugget.” Caerwyn sighed, shaking her head and nursing her own cup of strong, black liquid. She was worn out from all the incessant asking. It was almost as bad as the time Owena had wanted to go to a slumber party at a classmate’s house last year. Caerwyn hadn’t been keen on it. Owena was still in primary school, all her little mates were Muggles, though she only had one year left there after this summer before she and Rhydian would be starting Hogwarts. Rhydian was a different story entirely. Caerwyn had had to home school him, unable to send her poor boy away like she had his sisters. A muggle school would never have understood the blood curse they shared and already, Rhydian had begun asking if he could continue to be homeschooled instead of sent to Hogwarts as well. Caerwyn had put her foot down on that one, refusing to even discuss it. He had to go out in the world sometime.

“Please please please!” Addie continued, releasing her father’s shoulders and sliding down his back onto her feet instead. She locked herself around him from the front, tilting her chin up so it rested on his chest, staring up at him with those big brown eyes that matched his own. Her hair was still a mess from the braids she’d put in the day before, having not yet bothered to fix them up, hoping he’d do it for her after breakfast. “Pretty please, Papa? I promise we’ll be so good and we won’t make any trouble.”

[padfootagain]

Girl Crush (XIII)

Chapter 13: Would It Be A Sprout?

 Here we go with a new chapter!!! I hope you like it!!

Important chapter ahead. Like… hmm hmm…. Very important chapter, that I will let you discover by yourself but… yes, yes, important indeed. Poor Harry…

Tell me what you think about it!!

Word Count: 2749

Two months.

Harry hadn't seen you in two months, that was way too long.

If he had booked a flight for L.A. as soon as he had learnt that he would have a few days off between two shows, he still reckoned that in the future he would have to plan his trips to make sure he had more time to visit you.

Of course, the two of you had been on the phone almost every day. But it wasn't the same. It wasn't the same at all. Your voice was distorted by the waves transmitted through space, he felt the distance between the two of you in the way you laughed, and your face on the screen of his phone wasn't represented well enough for him to see all the details in your eyes.

Gareth wouldn't be around for the whole afternoon and evening, and Harry was rather happy to avoid sharing you for a while. Some of his friends had asked to organize a party, but he had pushed the occasion for 48 hours later. He wanted to spend the first day he was back to the city of Angels just catching up with you, and he would be dining with you and Gareth the next day.

And indeed, you did spend the whole afternoon together. You had taken the day off to go pick up Harry at the airport, and after dropping his luggage at his house, you enjoyed a lazy afternoon walking down the beach, talking about everything and nothing, eating too much ice-cream and laughing so hard your bellies ached.

You sat down in the sand to watch the sun set and disappear beyond the ocean, painting with red, gold and purple the heavens and the waters it sank in. Your toes were brushed by the waves, and you looked at a little crab running back and forth a few meters away with amusement painted all over your features.

And if he had missed you these past few months, Harry suddenly realized how much he had. He felt happier than he had in these seven weeks. Despite how much he loved performing, he reckoned that he wouldn't have traded this moment even for the rush of stepping on a stage and hearing a crowd sing his songs. If the second was exhilarating, exciting, this… this was soothing and calm. It felt almost like meditation, like connecting to the simple things that meant the most. When he turned to look at you again, he saw home in your features.

Funny that he felt that way. He had never really considered any place like a home since he had left his mother's house at 16. And yet, there was no other word to describe the warm feeling that grew in his chest as he stared at you. He felt like he was exactly where he belonged.

You felt his stare fixed upon you, and turned to him. He answered with a warm smile.

"What's going on in your funny head?" you asked, resting your chin on your knees.

"Nothing," he shrugged. "I'm just happy to see you. I've missed you."

The smile you offered him was worth a thousand suns, but it remained tender and delicate as one of these peonies you adored. The wind carried the salty scent of the ocean, yet he could smell your perfume over the salty fragrance of the waves: jasmine and summer skies, that was how he would describe it.

"I've missed you too, Harry. I'm glad you didn't forget about me."

You had spoken similar words before, but this time your tone was serious instead of teasing, so he frowned instead of laughing like he usually did.

"Forget about you, what do you mean?"

You shrugged, your gaze settling on the waves instead of his green eyes. It was easier to speak words you felt so deeply when watching a sunset than the two orbs you dreamt about from time to time.

"I don't know. You went away for so long, to live something pretty insane and amazing. And I'm just here, an ordinary florist…"

"Don't talk about it like that," he interrupted you with a bitter tone, and you were surprised to find a mixture of sadness and anger in his deep voice.

"I'm not blaming you or anything. And I'm not saying that I'm miserable either. I'm absolutely amazing."

He chuckled.

"You are. You are amazing."

"Doesn't mean that… you being away, sucked up in the craziness of it all… I was afraid you would stop thinking about your friend who lived thousands of miles away."

He shook his head, giving you one of his tender, lopsided smiles, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders to pull you close. And you hadn't realized before then, how much you had missed being in his arms.

"How could I ever forget my best friend, you silly? I missed you like hell. By the way, would you like to come to London for the holidays?"

Your eyes widened.

"What?"

"I'll be at my mum's for Christmas, but have to get back to London on the 26th. Thought you could come with me, as you didn't get the chance to walk around the town the last time you went there. My mum offered to let you stay for the New Year too, I'll go back to Holmes Chapel for New Year's Eve. You could come with me. A few others of my friends that you know will be there, so you won't feel alone, don't worry."

"I… I don't know…"

"You don't have to give me an answer now. Just think about it. And don't worry about money, I'll pay for the tickets, and you can stay at my place, so it won't cost you a penny. Or well, a cent here, I suppose."

"Are you sure about this?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're inviting me to stay at your mum's…"

"What about it? You're my best friend. Trust me, I talk about you all the time, she and Gemma know who you are already. Come on, say yes! It'll be fun! I'll be your guide in London!"

You had to admit that it was an excellent proposition, so you nodded, defeated.

"Okay, that sounds fun. I'll come."

"Wonderful! I'll get you tickets, you don't have to worry about a thing."

You rested your head against his shoulder, smiling.

You felt like you never had to worry about anything whenever he was around anyway…

"By the way, Harry…"

"Hmm?"

"You talk about me all the time?"

"Oh, shut up!"

It was late. Really late. Both of you should have been in bed, but none of you wanted to sleep. Harry was exhausted, but he didn't want to bid you goodnight just yet, and you were tired too, but you were too excited to have your best friend back to care too much about your stinging eyes.

Outside, the sky was cloudless and stained with a thousand stars, pale and distant lights lost in an infinite void. The moon was beginning a new cycle, its shape turned into a mere silvery line. But nor you nor Harry paid much attention to the beauty of the night sky.

In Harry's home, Notting Hill was playing, and Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant were breaking into a private garden in the centre of London. Both of you had changed into pyjamas, and you had stolen one of Harry's Treat People With Kindness oversized jumpers. Harry had settled for a pair of old shorts and an oversized green T-shirt. His hair had grown quite a lot since you had last seen him, and the dishevelled strands fell before his eyes. He had also clearly not shaven in a few days, and you were not complaining.

Two glasses of red wine, half empty, rested on the ground next to your feet, and the rests of some Chinese take-out were still scattered across the table. On the couch, Harry and you were facing each other, both of you sitting cross-legged on the comfortable cushions. Harry had just finished to paint your nails, and it was your time to decorate his.

You had chosen to match your nails with his, both of you sporting an alternance of pastel blue and lilac now. You were applying the final layer now, and you were quite proud of your work, barely any of the polish had wandered on his skin.

You had missed these evenings with him so much. The simple, quiet ones where all the two of you did was talk, enjoy each other's company, watch a film and do silly things like painting each other's nails or play boardgames in your pyjamas. You didn't reckon that there was anyone else with whom you would never grow tired of spending this kind of simple and yet intimate moments. Your memories brought you back to the first rainy afternoon you had spent together, the first time you had won against him at Scrabble, and he had never stopped raging about always losing ever since. The thought made you smile.

You were so lucky to have Harry in your life…

There was a slight frown on your features as you focused so intensely to not mess up your hard work. But he could read in your posture too that you were calm, absolutely relaxed. If there were things that stressed you out with your work, or your relationship with Gareth, your body language spoke loudly enough to leave no doubt that you weren't thinking about any of these issues. And as a result, you started to hum a random melody, without even noticing the gesture.

You always hummed when you were happy, without even noticing. An unconscious gesture that never failed to make him smile. He didn't recognize the tune, but then, he wasn't even sure it existed yet, maybe you were creating it now. Just the same way as you did while you were cooking together that day, and created one of his songs in the process. Would you create another tonight?

Through the low light of the room, the flashes from the TV screen painted shadows and shades across your features. Photons were caught in your hair and glimmered there, flickering fireflies shining brightly before fading.

You finished to paint his pinky finger, and let out a content sigh, before resuming your humming as you closed the bottle of polish. You wiggled a little, happy and proud of your work. Your smile radiated joy and kindness. And you were so… adorable? Beautiful? Perfect? It felt like all these adjectives weren't enough to describe how he felt for you in that moment.

His heart seemed to expand in his chest, in a way it had never changed before. It was as if… it was growing bigger and bigger, getting filled with something new that asked for nothing but to burst out and ignite the entire world. He had never felt this way, and yet, it didn't feel like Harry was completely foreign to it. It felt more like… something that had always been there, but never to this proportion, never to this intensity that blinded everything else the way it did now.

And the words that formed on the tip of his tongue and almost spontaneously tumbled past his lips showed him what the meaning behind this overwhelming feeling was.

I love you.

He did manage to bite his tongue before he could let out any sound though, but the urge to speak these words made his eyes grow round all the same.

What… what the hell was happening? What did that even mean?

Love? Well, obviously, you were his best friend, he did love you in a way, but not… not that way…

And he knew that as the words formed in his mind and heart, this time, they weren't intended to express a platonic love he would feel for a friend. They meant… something absolutely not platonic…

"All done! And may I say, I've nailed your nails! No pun intended."

He didn't even notice that you were talking. He seemed to have zoned out.

In reality, he was completely panicked.

What was going on? Why did he feel like that? Why did he want to say that?

"Harry? You're alright?"

You waved your hand right before his eyes in an attempt to bring him back to Earth, and he finally seemed to snap out of his trance.

"Huh? Sorry…"

"Are you alright? You don't like your nails?"

"What? My nails?"

He looked down at his hands and remembered what you had been doing.

"Oh, no, they're great. Well done!"

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Uhm… yeah. I'm just… Very tired all of a sudden, with the trip and all that."

You nodded, and he could read in your eyes that you believed his lie.

"You should get some rest. It's very late."

"I'll prepare the bed for you in the guest room…"

"No, go to bed. I know where everything is kept in this house anyway," you laughed, already turning off the TV. "Try to wait a few minutes for the polish though, or else you'll put some all over your pillow."

"Of course. Thanks again, it looks great."

You grinned, putting the nail polish away.

"I'll clean up, you get some rest," you ordered, before leaning closer to him. "Good night, Harry!"

You dropped a peck on his cheek. A gesture you had done many times before, and Harry shouldn't have reacted to it the way he did.

Why was his heart about to explode again? Why couldn't he breathe? What the hell was happening to him?

"Uhm… Good… Good night, Y/N," he stuttered, blushing hard from his neck to the tip of his ears, and he hurried to get up and head for his bedroom to hide his reaction.

He could still feel your lips against his skin, a ghostly sensation lingering on his cheek, like a little tickle… Your lips were so soft…

He locked the door behind him, resting his back against the wooden surface, out of breath, his eyes wide in panic.

What the hell was going on?!

He replayed the scene in his head, trying to understand what could have happened?

You were sitting on the couch next to him, painting his nails, and you looked so beautiful and…

His heart started to race again, and he rested his hand upon his chest, as if it would make the organ slow down, but all it did was make Harry feel through his ribcage just as fast his heart was pounding.

He let himself slide down the length of the door to the floor, and sat there for a while, resting his head against the cold wood behind him.

You were his best friend. Nothing more. What the hell was wrong with him?

The next thought that formed in his messy head was a question: what would it feel like to kiss you?

He was horrified at his own mind… how could he think like that of you?

You were his friend. You trusted him. And you were in a relationship with someone else. His brain had no rights forming this kind of thoughts.

And yet, when he let his mind wander off again, the same question appeared again, and this time, he felt the burning urge to stand up, open the door, cross the house back to the living room and find out.

He did none of that, of course. Instead, he kept on panicking, burying his face in his hands.

But he reckoned that he was simply being tired and stupid. You were his best friend. You were… his friend. Nothing more.

He was simply stressed out with all his shows, and tired, and jetlagged, and he had missed you so damn much, and he was so happy to see you again and spend some quality time with you.

Yes, it was only the mingling of all these circumstances that was messing with his head. A good night of sleep, and he would be back to his senses.

What if it wasn't though? What if… what if the feeling didn't stop in the morning? What if he really was in love with you?

He dragged himself off of the floor and crawled into bed, collapsing on his pillow and closing his eyes, hoping he would fall asleep soon.

He didn't sleep very well through the night though.

You were haunting his dreams.

**************************************************

Taglist :  @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet@notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky@snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity@i-padfootblack-things  @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi@jigsawlover10 @emyyjemyy @addictedtofictionalcharacters @staringmoony@madamrogers​ @cronias13​ @stylesfics-xx​ @mellamolayla​

[fallen-in-dreams]

Chasing A Dream

Links: FF.net & AO3. Pairing: Sakura/Kakashi. Summary:  Her mother always told her to follow her dreams. In this case, her dream happened to have silver hair, mismatched eyes, and a smile that took her breath away. And she was determined to follow him all the way, even if he decided to break her heart. KakaSaku AU. Status: Complete.

Enjoy. ^_^

.:.

Sorry I have to leave so abruptly, Daddy. I’ll come back as soon as I can, okay? I know you’re disappointed in me. I wasn’t trying to shame you. I love you. I love you both. I’ll see you soon. Tell mama I’m fine. I always know my way home. - Love, Sakura.

.

Sakura Haruno walked for half a mile to get to the service area where she knew that drivers congregated before leaving Wajima. She did her best to dress like a foreigner and not show her Roma origins—nomads (Sanka) were considered as un-Japanese as any foreigner (Gaijin). She wouldn’t win the sympathetic ride with a stranger wearing her usual bodice and scarf.

She decided on a simple shirt and her nice jeans; they fit comfortably and hugged her well. It was cold out, even in the middle of the day, so she brought a heavy coat; one that was still easy to wear with her travelling backpack.

Her goal was to hitchhike her way to Tokyo. Depending on traffic and how long it would take to get a ride, the trip would take about seven hours. It would be expensive if done with public transportation; she had to save what little money she had for those things once she actually got to her destination.

To him.

And she was unfamiliar with the more typical ways of travelling through Japan. This was her last option; she had put this off long enough. For the first time since the last time she’d seen him, she wasn’t running from her problems; rather, meeting them head on. Before her father got it into his head to ruin things with that famous temper of his. Images of silver hair and mesmerising, mismatched eyes, invaded her thoughts unbidden and she sighed deeply before looking around contemplatively.

Service areas like this all over Japan made hitchhiking that much easier. Cars, trucks, motorcycles—there was a plethora of drivers to choose from. Sakura had hitched before—her first time had been when a second cousin went into labour. The pinkette was twelve years old at the time, and her parents were nowhere to be seen, so she’d had to make her way to the hospital on her own. It was easy, safe, and fun, really.

If you were careful.

A girl on her own was an easy target for perverts and predators, but Sakura always made sure to go with families or women; she was a good judge of character, so that elderly man had been a smart choice, regardless. But she wasn’t a weakling; she knew how to handle herself. Anyone who tried something with her would get a twisted arm and a swift kick to the shins or balls. Whichever one tickled her fancy.

This place was perfect; away from the expressway and most people here were headed in the same direction.

A few minutes into her perusal, a teenage girl waved at her and Sakura waved back. She looked to be with her parents. They had a Suzuki and ample room. She approached them with her sign; it read ‘Osaka’.

Sakura put on her best friendly smile and fake accent. “Konnichiwa.”

“You going to Osaka?”

The pinkette nodded silently, remembering that while it was uncommon for Japanese people to hitchhike there were no laws against it; it was just best to appear to need help, like a foreigner rather than a local.

“You speak Japanese?”

Maybe it was her hair, but she was often treated like a foreigner no matter what she said or did; she didn’t understand it. But she always just went with it. The key was to look as harmless and friendly as possible.

“Hai.”

The girl conferred with her parents and then came running back over to Sakura and threw her arms around her. “You look like you are a good person. We can take you as far as Toyama, okay?”

“Hai.”

“Okay!”

The girl talked Sakura’s ear off the whole time, going on about her family vacation and how she loved Winter so much.

So bloody much.

But Sakura kept her smile on and upon disembarking at a service area near the Toyama train station, felt compelled to show her appreciation. She bowed deeply. “Doumo. Arigato.”

Alone again, she sighed nervously.

One ride down.

Shifting the weight of her backpack out of nervous habit, she ambled her way through the crowd of vehicles, glancing at the faces of the drivers and any passengers they might have. She was looking for the concerned face, the curious face; the honest face.

Found three.

It was a couple and their six-year-old boy, wearing matching outfits, looking like they were heading for the Alps. They accepted her quickly, saying how they didn’t want to leave her here on her own, and looking so vulnerable.

“There are some sickos these days,” the mother muttered, while the father nodded in agreement.

They seemed sane to Sakura.

“We’re going to Myoko,” the little boy said excitedly, the moment the pinkette climbed into their Subaru.

Sakura humoured him, listening to him talk about all the skiing he was going to do, and that he had to go to some boring wedding instead of the night-time Onsen. He was really cute, and she found herself feeling wistful and nervous, thinking about what awaited her at her destination. So much so that she gave in when he pestered her about where she was going. She told him almost everything...

“Sayōnara, Sakura-chan! And good luck!”

Left again at a service area, Sakura quickly got to work scoping out the people and their vehicles again. The next car she got belonged to another group of friends, middle-aged women on their way to some kind of religious retreat. She listened to their excited chatter in polite silence but was glad to be on the move again.

Next ride.

It was like riding a bike now; her instinct didn’t fail her as her eyes zeroed in on five people who looked around her age, almost twenty. They turned out to be college students on holiday and could take her all the way to Tokyo—their ultimate destination was Yokohama, where apparently, they all had family.

They were so boisterous and so energetic that it was contagious. Sakura found herself laughing for the first time in months. It made her temporarily forget her imminent problems. They were so warm, she found herself drawn to them. A loud blond guy in particular, seemed to just radiate kindness, and the banter between him and the raven-haired guy she assumed was his best friend, was the highlight of the trip.

When they made it to her drop off point, she was disappointed.

The blonde girl took her elbow and stopped her from leaving dejectedly. “You need money for the bullet train? They’re faster and will be safer this time of night.”

Sakura shook her head as they suggested giving her the money. “I couldn’t–”

“You can.”

“We insist. Go get your man!”

A wad of cash was shoved in her hands and bouts of cheers from the group followed her as she walked away, and Sakura blushed heavily. That little boy with the concerned parents had opened a floodgate and she couldn’t keep her damn mouth shut! This was highly unusual behaviour. Did everyone around here give money to strangers?

That had been a particularly rowdy group of college students, she decided naively. Definitely out of the norm.

Best to just accept the money and get on the train.

Sakura waved back at them and made her way in the direction they’d indicated. Tokyo was a very odd place. There was a bus station nearby, and the train station was lit up and dazzled her. She strained her neck looking around; its services also included commercial centres for shopping, dining, and entertainment. Everything was so big and lively! She spent a few minutes just gaping like a tourist before remembering why she was here.

Sakura steeled herself and took the directions the students had given her to the correct station and line.

She bought her ticket from the vending machine and passed through the Fare Gate, rushing to get onto the locomotive. She just wanted to get this part over with. The Tokaido line would take her directly to her destination.

Sakura pulled out a piece of paper as she took her backpack off and sat down next to it in her seat. All she had was an address, and vague directions; she’d gotten it from her father’s own journals. She read it silently, committing it to memory. This was it. This was what she’d been dreading and anticipating. When she would finally see him again.

Sighing, she settled into the seat and stared out the window, her eyes taking in the beautiful landscape as the Shinkansen Bullet Train started moving. It was this kind of view that she loved most about travel. Having been a part of her family performance group her whole life, she was no stranger to moving around. Japan was truly the most hospitable and exciting country; even when they did stick to the Ura-Nihon (the backside of Japan).

And it was that lifestyle that had gotten her into her current predicament.

She remembered it like it was yesterday.

.:.

Gypsies, tramps, and thieves: dealings with those unwanted was not something most businessmen would risk. That was why just talking to Kizashi Haruno was considered on par with black market dealings. Moving things across prefecture borders via Roma who performed shows for a living supposedly came with all the mystique of illegal dealings but with none of the danger of dealing with the Yakuza.

It was the preferred choice for shady men who were too cowardly to deal with the real crime syndicate.

And Sakura was both repulsed and intrigued by her father’s dealings. Every client had their own story to tell, though, and she was a sponge for information. Every negotiation and patented deal were slightly different to the last, but they were all conducted the same; in brisk, formal manners with no-nonsense chit-chat and a back-and-forth debate that seemed redundant.

Eager to listen in, she always took the initiative to pour the tea for her father and his clients when they met in his tent. They paid her no mind as they continued to talk business—after all, what would a little girl know about the price of illegal dried meat or black-market liqueurs? She learned a lot from listening in but could only linger for so long.

Several months after her eighteenth birthday, a new business associate of her father’s caught her eye; and this man did seem to be bothered by her presence during their talks. He was so no-nonsense that Sakura imagined he’d have her standing to attention and saluting if he’d wanted to, but he also greeted her father with a smile that seemed genuine (a twinkle in his eyes) and a handshake that didn’t look designed as some macho display of dominance.

It took her breath away.

He was… different from the others. And his visits lasted longer; her father seemed to like him more and more every time they sat to talk business. And when Sakura poured the man’s tea he said, “thank-you” when none of the others would even look at her, probably thinking her some simple serving girl. When she froze in shock for a few seconds, he raised an eyebrow at her and waited for her to move away before taking a sip from his drink. When she didn’t leave the room immediately, his gaze would flicker to her curiously.

She often felt his mismatched eyes on her as she left the room. He didn’t dare to stare at her in any disrespectful way with her father in the room—he definitely wasn’t as ignorant or creepy as her father’s other clients. She had no idea why he was there because, instead of paying attention to what he was saying, she would be focused on his voice. And he would stop talking once he realised, she was listening in.

His curious looks turned into intense stares and she would give him a shy smile before exiting the tent. It was an interesting back and forth—kind of like flirting. Sakura had never flirted before, so she wasn’t sure if she was doing it right. Her father had been in talks for a few weeks in order to marry her to the son of a friend (a well-placed man in their Roma clan), so she was expected to avoid boys, sex, and the like. But Kakashi Hatake was responding to her awkward flirting, catching her eye when her father was distracted, giving her a dark, penetrating look when she was doing chores and he was passing by with Kizashi leading the way out (or in) to their encampment.

He wanted her.

And she had to admit, it felt good to be on the receiving end of his obvious need, though she considered him a gentleman, since to the casual observer, he seemed to treat her well enough; his smiles were innocent and his choice of honorifics when addressing her were appropriate for their non-relationship status. He was just a business acquaintance of her father’s and nothing more.

At least, that was what she thought. She was soon to be betrothed, after all.

But she couldn’t help imagining her life however, if Kakashi made a claim for her and took her away to live with him. She fantasised that he would save her from her boring life; she loved her family, but Sakura craved more. She had no idea what his life was like, but she wanted it. The sexual tension between them would not go away; a sense of both trepidation and anticipation filled her being. Sakura knew it would be frowned upon, that her father would rage, but she wanted him too.

Didn’t men usually make the first move in these situations? She’d heard they did.

Maybe he was just biding his time?

On what was apparently his last dealing with her father, Kakashi found himself in a pickle; his ride home had abandoned him, and her father insisted on letting him hitch with them, as they were headed in the same direction, come morning. His mind was made up and that was the end of things. Kakashi Hatake gave a grateful smile, his eyes twinkling when they met green and Sakura blushed under his gaze, her own smile eliciting another one of his dark, penetrating stares. She could feel a heat building up inside her as he licked his lips and exhaled deeply.

“Sakura?”

Her mother’s voice snapped her out of her reverie and Sakura dutifully left to help her, with whatever she needed. It was almost dinner time.

Supper was a nightmare. Sakura rubbed her thighs together, trying to hide her obvious interest the entire time. Luckily, only Kakashi noticed.

That night, long after her parents had gone to bed, Sakura Haruno lost her virginity.

He’d come to her tent, knelt down in front of her, parted her legs, and taken his time introducing her to sex. It had lasted for hours. And he spent most of the night inside her before slinking back to his own tent after she’d fallen asleep. When she woke, the only proof he’d been there were the indent from his head on one of her pillows, the foreign soreness between her legs, and the smell of sex that still lingered in the air.

She was profoundly disappointed.

And he’d seemed to have gotten what he wanted, acting normally on the rest of their trip, giving only a minute longing glance in her direction to show her she hadn’t imagined it before leaving their caravan behind.

“He’s such a nice man,” her mother said, watching him go. “And so handsome,” she added, fanning herself. “We should have him over more often.”

Sakura swallowed back a sob and forced herself to pretend everything was all right, so she could go back to her normal, boring life. But three months later, a discovery upended her life, and everything changed.

 .:.

“Forty-Six, forty-seven...” Sakura counted off the numbers as she made her way through the hallway. Kakashi Hatake lived in a luxury high-rise building with a view of the waterfront as well as a park. She wondered idly how many of his illicit dealings paid for this place. He had to be no normal smuggler to afford a place like this; it was far out of her reach, even if she were to drain her father of the combined intake from his clients.

She stopped at the correct number and let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

This is it.

Yep. All she had to do was ring that bell and wait.

And wait impatiently.

Is he even home?

She’d heard the bell ring through the apartment from her position but there was no other noise inside.

The passing maid gave her a strange look, adding more to Sakura’s embarrassment; reminding her she wasn’t dressed to match the décor. She sighed, undid the buckles on her backpack and slid down the door to sit to wait for him to turn up. It wasn’t the middle of the night—just barely ten o’clock—so surely, he wasn’t fast asleep yet?

Speaking of sleeping; Sakura drifted off so quickly she didn’t remember falling asleep when a hand was gently shaking her awake. It seemed all her worry had exhausted her more than she’d realised.

“Sakura?”

That familiar voice had her freezing instantaneously, then slowly looking up into the mismatched eyes of her lover. That thought made her blush, but she fought it down. He knew better than to ask if her father was aware, she’d camped out in front of Kakashi’s door; what they had, what they’d shared, no-one else could know.

The energy between them shifted; it had always been electric.

As he stared at Sakura, Kakashi couldn’t help but think that everything was about to change.

He sighed, rubbed his left eye tiredly, and helped the girl up, off the floor. She was exactly as he remembered, except that she wore normal clothes instead of the bodice that had flared at her breasts, giving him an ample view of her goods. He smirked inwardly, remembering rubbing his hands over those very supple goods not three months ago.

Was that why she was here? He was confused. He cleared his throat.

“Do come in.” He unlocked the door and swung it open to let Sakura into his apartment, taking note of her sudden and obvious nerves, not to mention that she had a death grip on her backpack. “Please take your shoes off. The maids here are vicious if they catch even a whiff of the outside on these hardwood floors.”

Sakura nodded and looked around for a shoe rack.

“Here.”

Kakashi led her off to the side to place her things.

“Do you want some tea?” He might as well play the good host, considering her father had always been gracious to him.

“N-no.” Uh... “Yes,” she amended after shivering.

“What kind?”

“Hot.”

He didn’t bother pointing out to her that tea came in hundreds of flavours and was always “hot”. Well, all the tea he’d bother drinking, anyway. He busied himself in the kitchen, instead. “Make yourself at home!”

Sakura carefully placed her shoes on the rack and shrugged off her coat. Her hand went to her stomach and she felt mild panic; this was why she was here, but it was terrifying. She closed her eyes, focusing on the sounds of Kakashi moving about in his kitchen, preparing their tea.

I can do this.

Gingerly, she made her way into the kitchen, too nervous to take in the large and gorgeous apartment he owned. It had never occurred to her that he wasn’t single… but now the question tormented her brain. The idea that she’d slept with someone’s spouse, that she had trekked across the country to see him and was laying her pregnancy problems on someone who was spoken for… she suddenly felt cheap.

Sakura stopped a foot from the kitchen and glanced back at the living room, eyes darting about and looking for clues of a girlfriend or wife. There were none. But she wasn’t going to stop panicking until she knew for sure. Taking a deep breath, she entered the kitchen, laid her coat on one of the kitchen stools, her eyes on the back of Kakashi’s head as he whistled along with the kettle.

When he turned to face her, she felt her insides squirm in nervous anticipation; but the kitchen island bench was high enough to hide her small protruding belly. He smiled that award-winning smile.

“I’ll just be a minute, you can wait in the serving room if you want, then we can talk about what brought you to my humble abode, yeah?”

She wasn’t sure how to interpret that hopeful look on his face, but she nodded, waiting for him to turn back to the tea before slipping out into the other room like he suggested.

Oh gods.

Her nerves had just skyrocketed.

Sakura studied the pictures on the opposite wall to the tatami mat, entwining her fingers as she attempted to simmer her nerves. None of the people in the photos looked like his “other half” so to speak; there were people in business suits and an elderly couple in several that looked like Kakashi’s parents. The one that stood out was a photo of Kakashi and two others—a guy and girl, but the way those two were holding each other, she figured she didn’t have anything to worry about.

I hope.

She spun around quickly as Kakashi entered the serving room, like she’d been caught reading his dirty magazines or something. He wasn’t looking directly at her as he moved to place the tea try on the low table in the centre of the room. He looked up and her breath hitched.

“Oh, you took the coat off? I turned the thermostat up, so you don’t have to keep that heavy jacket on–” He paused. “Uh, Sakura?”

His eyes fell to her stomach and widened. “W-what?”

His eyes roamed over her shirt; with the coat out of the way, he could suddenly and terrifyingly understand why she’d come all this way on her own.

“Hai, Kakashi, it’s yours,” she said, to break the silence.

That made it easier. She was showing already, but it was mostly still just bloating; she’d deliberately worn a tighter shirt and cosy jeans to show it off. After taking off her coat, her baby bump was difficult to miss. To the casual observer, she didn’t look pregnant until she’d removed the coat.

Kakashi continued to gape at her.

“Kakashi?”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, quickly recovering his speaking ability. “It’s just... a shock.”

She nodded. “I know. I’m sorry too. But I didn’t know how else to tell you. Daddy...”

She trailed off and he understood. Kizashi was going to kill him. It didn’t matter that he needed the Hatake business right now, his daughter had been defiled and impregnated. No decent father would just let that go. And Kizashi was as decent a father as Kakashi had ever seen. He couldn’t imagine a scenario where the older man wouldn’t yell at him and call him every name under the sun for this.

He swallowed heavily.

“Where does he think you are right now?”

“Not at home.”

He chuckled humourlessly. “I suppose so. Uh,” he motioned to the tea. “Don’t want to waste my hospitality, right?”

She nodded and sat down; he ran a distracted hand through his odd hair and sighed, moving to pour her tea for her, before allowing her to pour his. They sat in silence, across from each other, avoiding eye contact and just enjoying the rich flavour of the tea he’d chosen. She wanted to ask what flavour it was but was feeling too nervous to start idle chatter. She was as nervous as he was, looking everywhere but at Kakashi as she delicately sipped at her tea. When they were both done and the silence dragged on, Sakura was beginning to worry he was going to send her on her way with little but a “I’m too old to have a kid” or some such nonsense.

She cleared her throat, her eyes lowering to her hands, sitting in her lap and twiddling like a schoolgirl. The fear and dread came rushing back when Kakashi seemingly had nothing to say and she didn’t know how to start the topic of what to do now. Her fidgety hands moved from her lap to her knees, back to her lap, and then finally to the serving table. She splayed her hands out, faced down, frowning at them.

Sakura only had to wait a few more minutes after her fidgeting stopped before the father of her unborn child finally broke the silence, causing her to look up at him, now fixated on his mismatched eyes.

“I don’t regret it,” he said slowly. “I…” He held a hand over his face in an attempt to cover his blush, but the look on her face told him he was busted. Kakashi chuckled, resting the hand on hers, instead. He rubbed his thumb over her hand. “It was amazing. You were amazing.”

It was her turn to blush.

“What I’m trying to say is...” He sighed. “I... don’t regret it.” He chuckled at his own expense again. “I’m not really helping, am I?”

She smiled. Sakura appreciated what he was clearly trying to say. She had him tongue tied, apparently. It was a good feeling, surprisingly. It meant she wasn’t just a notch on his belt—she wasn’t forgettable and unwanted. She cleared her throat again.

“Where do we go from here?” She asked, her voice trembling. She was scared of the answer, but also… not. It was strange.

Kakashi ran a hand through his hair—he did that when he was both nervous and unsettled, she’d noticed. Or at least, she gathered so. He wasn’t the most open person, that much was obvious.

“I–”

Whatever Kakashi was going to suggest was drowned out by a loud, abrupt serious of knocks on his front door. Whoever it was wasn’t bothering with the doorbell and sound irate and impatient.

Sakura paled immediately. Her father might’ve put two and two together, somehow… she’d told her friends where she was going. But the caravan answered to her father, so if he really wanted to squeeze information out of them...

Oh my god.

“Hatake!”

Yep, that was Kizashi Haruno’s angry voice.

Kakashi and Sakura stared mutely at each other. They both knew that the longer they took to answer it, the more hell there’d be to pay.

“Kakashi I swear, if you don’t open this damn door–”

Kakashi quickly strode over and swung the door open before Kizashi could finish that sentence.

“Daddy?” Sakura squeaked, standing up.

Her father’s eyes dropped to her protruding stomach as her hand fell to it instinctively. For a moment, it looked like the wind had been knocked out of him; then his face screwed up and he shoved his way inside, leaving Kakashi to close the door in an attempt at some kind of privacy.

Kizashi spun around and growled audibly, his eyes narrowed in on his business partner.

This was it. Sakura knew what was coming.

Kizashi Haruno was infamous for his temper, and when he was at his most angry, her father was a rambler.

His hands flailed and gesticulated as he ranted. “Kakashi, you bastard! What the hell did you think you were doing with my daughter!? She’s soon to be betrothed, not the concubine of a low life porn smuggler!”

Sakura’s eyes widened at this piece of information.

“She’s supposed to lay with her husband, not some one-off, out-dated lady’s man! She deserves better! She deserves more respect than this! To think that Mebuki thought you were a good guy. What the hell is wrong with you, Hatake? I don’t care that you’re a staunch bachelor, you will do right by my baby girl and marry her before it’s too late! And don’t you dare try to blame my little girl for your midlife boner. Take some goddamn, fucking responsibility!”

Silence met this proclamation, but the air was still rife with the tension created by Kizashi’s anger. He huffed and attempted to calm himself; he wasn’t normally a violent man, but he really wanted to punch Kakashi’s lights out. But there was no way he would stoop to that level in front of his little girl. He would deal with that urge later.

Kakashi, for his part, looked thoroughly shamed. He sighed, ran a hand through his hair (again), and nodded toward his future father in law.

Meanwhile, Sakura’s heart was racing. When the hell had this escalated to marriage? The logical part of her brain knew she could no longer marry that son of a friend within their Roma clan, but to marry Kakashi… Well, it wasn’t a horrible idea. But her brain had yet to plan ahead that far, so she was gobsmacked by her father’s insistence; not to mention Kakashi’s strangely immediate acquiescence to this demand.

“Sakura!”

“Daddy?”

Kakashi took the hint and stepped into the kitchen to give them privacy, a little too fast for Sakura’s liking.

Kizashi sighed, one hand falling to her stomach as he kissed her forehead. “What am I going to do with both of you?”

“Daddy, I—”

“It’s my fault. You felt you couldn’t talk to me. Did he… uh, take you against your—”

“No, daddy,” Sakura said, clasping his hand that was still on her stomach. “I wanted it.” She blushed as he glared up at the ceiling. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know. I got your letter.” He sighed as her face dropped. “I just want what’s best for you and I’ve failed you. Now you’re trapped with Mr. King of Black Market Erotica. Nothing immoral,” he assured her when she scrunched up her face in disgust. He sighed again. “Hatake! Get your arse out here!”

Kakashi did as he was told and waited until Kizashi had finished ranting at him again before seeing her father out. “I’ll be in touch for preparations,” her father said, before the door closed.

“Well, that went well,” she chuckled nervously.

They stood in silence again. It felt like she’d aged ten years in the last ten minutes. But as Sakura rubbed her stomach, and Kakashi couldn’t help but watch the motion carefully, she thought maybe that was okay. The father of her baby was no spring chicken. She smiled and he stepped over to her cautiously, placing a hand on her stomach.

Those mismatched eyes of his stared down at her and her breath caught in her throat as they twinkled, and he smiled. He was so beautiful. She suddenly couldn’t wait to see what their child would inherit from him. Sakura stood on her toes, held his face in both hands, and kissed him. He responded immediately; every inch of her body hummed, reminding her of their night together. Of their connection.

“I’ll do good by you, Sakura. I promise,” he said, once they were forced to stop in order to breathe.

And she believed him.

.:.

[tanniesaremybabies]

Sweater Weather

Summary - When someone who always feels cold meets her new deskmate, she finds that there are other things that can keep her warm besides her sweater. 

Genre - Slice of life, coming of age, fluff, slight angst.

Word Count - 3,000

A/N - This is my first fic and its inspired by my love for all things Fall, sweaters, and Jeon Jungkook. 

Hot days started to turn into cooler nights, fresh greens began to fade to browns and reds and before I knew it, autumn had come. My heart beat heavy on that first day of school. I tugged the cuffs of my favorite worn sweater over my fingers and took a deep breath, the crispness in the air filling my lungs. My steps got a bit slower as I approached the classroom, nervous butterflies swirling around in my stomach, making me regret eating such a large breakfast that morning. I entered the already half filled room and looked around to find my assigned seat. I had hoped to be put in the same homeroom as my best friend but we had found out last week that we were going to be separated for the first time since kindergarten. As I glance around I notice a boy sitting at a desk by an open window, the curtains fluttering in the fall breeze. I tug my sweater a bit closer as I realize that that is my desk and the boy, my deskmate. I make my way over and set my bag down gently and begin to place my books upon the desk. The boy’s head is turned to the window and he doesn’t seem to even have noticed a stranger has approached his space. As I quietly pull out the chair and sit down the movement seems to have surprised him and he turns around. I am confronted with a pair of wide, brown, doe eyes. “I’m sorry,” I apologize, out of habit. He gives me a shy smile that reminds me a bit of a bunny and introduces himself, “Hi I’m your new deskmate, Jeon Jungkook.”

What started off as cooler weather turns cold fast and I struggle to find sweaters that are thick enough to keep me warm as I have found that Jungkook prefers to keep the window open despite the cold. I had been running behind that morning and had grabbed a very light one on that particularly chilly day. As I sat through the morning of classes I began to shake a bit from the chill. I could barely take it anymore and had finally worked up the courage to say something to my silent deskmate when I realized he was asleep. As the teacher lectured on about histories and dates that I didn’t care much about I found myself distracted by Jungkook’s peaceful, sleeping face. Though we had been deskmates for a couple of months we were both rather quiet and hadn’t really talked at all. I took these few moments to look freely at the face which I was usually too shy to take more than a peek at when I was obligated to talk to him out of social politeness or class assignments. He was quite good looking, a lot of girls in the class thought so but he was so shy most of them had given up trying to talk to him. A movement at the front of the classroom catches my eye and brings my focus back to the teacher who now seemed to be walking around and asking questions to make sure people were paying attention. I see her move my way and I begin to panic for Jungkook. His grades, I had noticed, were already pretty bad and I’m sure he would be in real trouble if he were to be caught napping in class. I take a deep breath and decide I can’t just let him suffer. I reach out and touch his arm that is laying across the desk and give it a soft shake. He doesn’t move. I shake a little harder. Nothing. The teacher is approaching fast. I take my foot and kick his shin underneath the desk, hard. Jungkook’s head goes flying up just as the teacher walks past us and asks a question of the desk behind. I let out a sigh of relief. Jungkook seems to gauge the situation fast and gives me a smile. “Thanks,” he whispers. “No problem,” I replied, my cheeks a bit rosy. As a strong wind blows through the window my body gives a hard shiver. Jungkook looks over at me and reaches behind his seat and grabs his sweater that had been hanging on the back, “Here, you can wear this if you are cold.” As I pull the sweater on I begin to think that having the window open isn’t actually that bad.

The weather began to turn frosty and even Jungkook wasn’t able to keep the window open any longer. My eyes had begun to feel heavy, the overcast skies doing nothing to help with the afternoon tired feeling. I struggle to read the page in front of me, trying to use my study hour in a useful manner. I glanced over and noticed that my deskmate was once again sleeping. It wasn’t unusual for him and I had taken regularly to waking him up during classes before teachers would notice. I reach down into my bag and pull out a can of coffee and set it in front of his sleeping head on the desk. As the rest of the students make their return for the next class and the room gets louder, Jungkook’s eyes start to flutter open. He gives a big yawn and then sees the coffee. He shoots me a look that asks, “from you?” I reply with a small nod of my head in affirmation. The bunny smile makes an appearance but quickly turns into a grimace as he takes a sip of the bitter drink. I can’t hold back a little laugh. “It doesn’t taste great but it will help keep you awake.” “I miss being able to have the window open so the cold air would help keep me awake,” he softly whines. I shudder at the thought of the frosty air. “Why are you so tired all the time?” I wonder aloud. Jungkook doesn’t respond right away as he gulps down the rest of the can in a one shot manner. As he wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand he replies, “I don’t get much sleep because I have to practice.” “Practice for what?” I ask, curious. Though we had become a bit more friendly as deskmates we still didn’t know that much about each other. “I’m a trainee,” he answers, “I’m hoping to debut soon.” I find it hard to believe that my quiet deskmate was someone who wanted to be an idol and perform in front of people, the thought of doing that was terrifying to me, but also looking at him I could tell that he was definitely good looking enough and I had overheard him humming a few times and that had sounded really good. “Oh wow, that’s so cool,” I say, and in a moment of boldness I add, “Could I hear you sing?” He looks around the now crowded classroom and wide eyed asks, “Here? Now?” I smile at his apparent panic and give a little shake of my head, “Maybe after class?” “Ok,” he replies a little hesitantly, “I know a place.”

The wind seems to blow even stronger and colder on the rooftop of the school. I take a second to wind my scarf a bit tighter and I stomp my boots a few times to get the blood back to my toes. I’m not sure if the cold weather was actually good for Jungkook’s voice but this was the spot that he had picked to show me his singing. He gives a nervous glance at me and asks if I’m really sure I want to hear him sing. I nod my head vigorously, both because I truly want to hear it and also because I’m so cold I’m hoping the movement will help warm me up. But a few moments later and I forget all about being cold. As I hear Jungkook’s voice it’s as if I were wrapped up in the coziest of sweaters, warm and happy. His usually shy face becomes expressive as he sings. As he finishes the song his usual bashful appearance returns and I feel like I should say something about his singing but I’m standing there just staring at him, his large doe eyes still have that twinkle from singing that hasn’t quite yet faded and they have me rooted to the spot. I try to take a breath, it’s hard but the cold air in my lungs seems to help bring me back to reality. “That was...amazing.” The word seems inadequate to me but Jungkook’s face lights up, “Thanks.” We stand there for a few more seconds staring at our toes and then each other. As we head back to the heated building I don’t even notice the change in temperature.

The air, while still frosty, was filled with the excitement of holiday festivities and the promise of a break from classes.  As the final bell of the day rang I began to slowly pack up my books. The rest of the class was a flurry of students rushing to be on their way as fast as possible, ready for their winter break to begin. I look to my side and see that Jungkook also seemed to take his time grabbing his belongings. “Are you going home for the holidays?” I ask as I search for the cap of my pen that seemed to have gone missing. Jungkook and I had finally started to talk after that time on the roof and I had learned that his family was still living in Busan while he was training in Seoul. “The Hyung’s and I are working really hard with training right now so we will be able to debut sooner so I won’t be able to go home this year.” His eyes look a little sad as replies. I feel bad for mentioning it. “Did your parents agree to let you go on the ski trip?” He asks in return. I had spent the last three weeks trying to convince my parents to let me spend part of the break skiing with my friend and her family and after a lot of begging and chores, the house had never looked so clean, they had agreed. “Yes, they finally did.” Jungkook looked happy at my answer, my heart gave a little leap. I don’t know what it was but just talking with him about little things always made me feel cozy. ‘That will be so much fun,” He smiled as he zipped up his bag and swung it over his shoulder. “Yeah I’m so excited for it I can’t wait, though I am a bit worried since I don’t know how to ski.” I say as I slip my pen in my bag and start to head for the door. “I’m sure you will be fine, but,” Jungkook gives a bunny smile, “If you break a bone I get to sign the cast.” I roll my eyes at him, “Wow thanks.” He gives a laugh but seems to hesitate for a second. “Umm,” he suddenly seems like the bashful deskmate from the beginning of the school year, “Since I won’t see you until after the holidays, here.” Jungkook stuffs a package into my hand and takes off for the door, stopping and turning around with a quick wave, “have a happy holiday.” I raise my hand in reply but he’s already gone. I look down at the package, it's wrapping a little sloppy. My heart races a bit as I open it and see a beautiful sweater. I haven’t even put it on and I already feel warm.

The new year seems to bring with it the coldest weather and with the holidays over it was back to classes. My fingers seem to be numb as I try to lace up my skates. Some of the students are already on the ice, boys racing each other, girls showing off their jumps and spins. I don’t understand how people can enjoy doing something like ice skating when it's so cold. Just the word ice chills me through. As I continue to struggle with the laces Jungkook appears before me and bends down and begins to tie them correctly. “That should do it,” he says as he stands up. “Thanks,” I reply as I, too, try and stand. My first few steps on the ice are a bit wobbly and as one of the boys rushes past I lose my balance and I swing my arms wildly about trying to stay upright, to no avail. My bottom is sore as I pick myself up and my hands are frozen from the ice and I think again that ice skating is miserable. Jungkook skates over to me after witnessing my graceful spill and gives me a worried look, “Are you okay?” Great, now embarrassment is added to my list of grievances. I say I’m ‘fine’ as I finally get back on my feet. “How about I help you?” Jungkook asks, offering his hand. I hesitate for a moment and then slowly reach out. His hand tightens around mine and my heart tightens as well. “We’ll just go nice and slow,” he says encouragingly. We spend the next half hour skating around the rink hand in hand. I’m pretty sure ice skating is my favorite activity.

Eventually the sun starts to appear more and the snow begins to melt. There are even a couple of days when Jungkook insists that the weather is warm enough to open the window, though nowadays he always makes sure I have a sweater with me first. Exams will soon be approaching and everyone is starting to study a bit more seriously. Except for Jungkook, who I start to see less and less. He says that his group is about to set a date for debut and that he needs to practice harder so there are days when he doesn’t even show up for class. I try to take class notes and leave them on the desk for him for the days that he would come, I’m not sure if he actually uses them or not but he would leave a note back saying ‘thanks.’ And so we began to communicate by leaving notes for each other. The notes began to get longer and  would say anything from what I ate, to something funny a classmate said, or to even something a bit more personal, about family life and feelings. Jungkook’s would tell stories of practice incidents or something that happened when he was a kid or about his fears of not being good enough to become an idol. I missed being able to see him all the time but the notes were special and I would take them and put them in a box to read over and over when the weather would turn cooler again.

On a particularly sunny day, no trace of snow on the ground and a feeling of newness in the air, I got into class to see Jungkook sitting at our desk. As I took my seat I looked down and saw a note on the desk. I opened it and read, “Han River after school?” My heart leapt, we had never hung out after school before, Jungkook was always busy practicing. I glanced over at him and gave a nod. He smiled his bunny smile and I’m pretty sure I didn’t learn one thing that day.

The grass was mostly brown still but there were patches of green that popped up here and there as Jungkook and I made our way along the river. When we had first arrived Jungkook suggested renting a bicycle and I agreed only to find out it was tandem one. I struggled a bit at first to get the hang of it but he was a natural. I was sure that Jungkook was good at everything he tried. Well everything except school, his grades were, pretty bad. Eventually we tired of biking and Jungkook bought us some ice cream and we sat on a bench looking out at the river. The ice cream was cold in my mouth and it made me give a little shiver. Jungkook noticed and grabbed his sweater and tossed it around my shoulders, laughing, “Are you never not cold?” I look at him and think, maybe I don’t always need a sweater.

The last day of classes and the weather is starting to feel really warm, summer is just around the corner. I hadn’t seen Jungkook in a couple of weeks, he had found out his debut date. Jungkook was going to be an idol. I was so happy and excited for him when he had told me he was accomplishing his dreams. But as the truth of the fact set in it was like a cold in my bones that I couldn’t quite shake despite the warm air. I wouldn’t be able to see Jungkook much longer. It was just a few more days till his scheduled debut so I didn’t expect to see him that day,  he hadn’t even shown up for classes. But as I left the school yard feeling a bit heavy hearted I was surprised as my eyes landed on him. It had only been a few weeks but he looked so different, is that what it was like to become an idol? His eyes meet mine and he gives me his bunny smile and the sun suddenly seems brighter. As we walk together he tells me all about the details for the debut and the fun he’s had recording and making a music video. I just smile in response. He notices my quietness and comes to a stop at a small park. We walk over to the swings and sit. I drag my feet along the dirt as I go back and forth. I look down and take a deep breath. I can feel Jungkook looking at me. “I…” my voice trails and cracks and I try again, “I missed you.” A tear frees itself against my will. “I missed you too.” It was said so quietly I thought I might have imagined it. “Is this goodbye?” I ask, already knowing the answer, he will be busy practicing and performing and have to switch to a different school. “I’m sorry,” is all he says. I give him a rueful smile through the few tears that slide down my cheeks, “There’s nothing to be sorry for, I’m really happy for you” He looks down now too. “I really liked being your deskmate,” he says. “I'm glad you were mine too,” I reply, “Even if it did take forever to get you to talk”. He laughs; “As if you were any better.” It’s true, it’s a miracle we were ever able to have a conversation at all with how awkward we were. We smile at each other and swing for a little while longer, enjoying the last bit of time we will have sitting side by side, and then Jungkook needs to go back to practice. He stands, giving a wave, and then turns to go. “Goodbye, deskmate,” I whisper and as the words leave my mouth a cloud covers the sun and a cold wind rustles the trees. Even though it is almost summer I think I need a sweater.

[blessed-but-distressed]

#FindEmmaSwanAFriend

Feeling left behind by her more successful, settled friends, Emma Swan moves to Scotland on a whim. Sure, she’s winning at Instagram, but something is still missing from her new life. Fortunately, her friends back home are on it. #FindEmmaSwanAFriend goes viral. Enter Killian Jones, reluctant columnist, who is on the hunt for his newest subject, and may just have found her. CS AU

also on ff.net and ao3

Tagging: @katie-dub , @wholockgal , @kat2609 , @whovianlunatic, @optomisticgirl, @ladyciaramiggles, @the-lady-of-misthaven, @emmaswanchoosesyou, @ilovemesomekillianjones, @biancaros3, @cigarettes-and-scotch-whisky, @ms-babs-gordon  @ab-normality, @andiirivera, @fangirl-till-it-hurts, @onceuponaprincessworld , @natascha-remi-ronin and whoever else asks me.

A/N: Yep. It’s been forever. And to add insult to injury, this is only Part 1 of 2. But umm... yay content?

***

SOS. My boss is wearing a powdered wig, and a guy in US flag speedos and nothing else just spilled punch down my dress. ES

What's this? A damsel in distress? Sounds like a perfect opportunity for a certain bearded gentleman to swoop in. One with cocktail knowledge and combat experience. Where is dear Rambo tonight? KJ

Don't call him that. And he's in Belfast, doing research. You know, like academics are supposed to do? ES

Ah, yes. Research. I've heard of it. KJ

That's it? No daring rescue plan? We have a code T here. ES

Code T? KJ

T for Transparent. As in, my dress. From being soaked through with punch by that asshole. Am I painting a clear enough picture? ES

I assure you, the image is extremely vivid. You might've led with that. Where is this damnable affair taking place, again? KJ

***

Emma

It wasn't that Emma was ashamed of where she came from. Not exactly. Recent election results aside, she had to acknowledge she hadn't ended up teaching American History by accident. Even when her country frustrated her, you had to admit, it was never boring. It was just...

She'd never been a foreigner before. Not really. A week in Cabo. That time Mary Margaret had forced her to third-wheel on a couple's ski trip to the Laurentians. Because that wasn't awkward at all.

But if she'd thought her American-ness would be a novelty in Scotland, she'd been seriously deluding herself.

Between the onset of summer vacation, the Instagram-worthy architecture and the enduring appeal of Jamie Fraser, there had never been more Americans in Edinburgh than there were at that moment. The Outlander Effect, they were calling it.

And Emma couldn't exactly miss them. They were everywhere, and not just herding en masse down the Royal Mile. On the bus. Crowding into the Jinglin' Geordie on Open Mic Night. Talking group assignments in the Starbucks line. Hell, a lot of her own students came equipped with homegrown accents, her class allowing their studies to mesh seamlessly with the syllabus back home.

Most encounters were pretty jarring. Like listening to your own voice played back on a recording.

Do I really sound like that?

She hoped not.

Did it really take me that long to figure out it isn't pronounced Edin-burg?

No comment.

Do I really have trouble translating common anglicisms?

Only sometimes.

Usually when they came out of the mouth of someone like Will Scarlet, and she couldn't tell if he was using some highly localized Derbyshire dialect, or if he was just fucking with her.

Sure, Killian tried a little too hard to sound like some kind of dashing 17th-century buccaneer most of the time, but at least it was still recognizable as a form of English. With Will though, she could never really be sure.

Still, after nearly a year, she liked to think she had a handle on things. She could order a 'Laphroaig' without completely mangling it, and knew enough to keep an umbrella on her person at all times. And if and when her cravings for American snack foods struck, they were being plenty satisfied by her local Sainsbury's, who kept one shelf fully stocked with all of the Twinkies, Peanut Butter Cups, and Lucky Charms a girl could ever wish for.

So when her Head of Department was looking for volunteers for their annual Fourth of July barbecue, Emma had to admit she did try to get out of it.

It was her own fault, really. It was summer. She should've been sunning it up in the Algarve with the rest of her colleagues, day drinking, and returning her skin tone to a less deathly pallor. Instead, she was the sucker who'd been roped into teaching Summer School classes to a revolving door of international students, who were keen to let some of the school's reputation rub off on them, without the three or four year commitment. Every three weeks a new lot arrived, and Emma's life descended into Groundhog Day as she repeated her lectures anew, reliving the same debates and excuses on a constant loop.

So she only had herself to blame when the department head went looking for warm bodies, that hers was the only one still lingering in the corridors.

"Great!" her boss said, clapping her hands together. "Don't forget to wear something festive!"

Festive.

There was no way this wasn't going to be a disaster.

***

The damsel in distress line might've rankled her, but she had to hand it to the guy, he came through.

Fifteen minutes after she'd barricaded herself in the bathroom after The Fruit Punch Incident she was summoned curbside, arms still determinedly crossed over her chest, to where a black cab sat idling, an incorrigible Englishman leaning against it holding up a leather holdall.

"Does Elsa know you went through her closet?" she asked, eyeing the bag.

"Who do you think paid for the cab?" he grinned.

Emma really needed to send that woman a fruit basket or something. Did people still do that? Send fruit baskets? Elsa would know. She probably went to one of those fancy Swiss finishing schools, where you learned shit like that.

The bag even smelled expensive as Killian handed it over, his eyes dropping for the first time to properly take in her ruined outfit, and lingering.

"Don't even say it," she warned, as he fought to suppress a grin.

She was never wearing a white sundress again. Ever.

"If anyone could pull it off..." he began, but a warning finger cut him off.

The picture of innocence, he raised his hands and stepped away. Which was precisely the moment Emma realized they were not, in fact, alone.

"In a spot of bother, milady?" came the cheerful greeting from the figure still wedged into the backseat of the cab, waving at her.

Robin. Attractive single Dad Robin, with the Oxbridge accent, criminal mastermind father, and good sense to keep his eyes averted.

"What the hell?" Emma hissed under her breath, whacking Killian in the shoulder. "Are we charging admission for my humiliations now?"

"Easy, lass," he said, rubbing the spot where she'd hit him. "I was out with Robin when you texted. I was hardly going to leave him on his own, now was I? Not very good form."

She glanced back to where Robin sat, whistling to himself, then back to Killian. "Oh, so now you're the honorable one?"

"What's this?" he scoffed. "An attack on my character? And after I've orchestrated such a dashing rescue? A fair maiden in distress and I'm on the spot."

The indignation would've been a little easier to swallow if his grin hadn't been quite so… wolfish.

"Yeah, right," Emma said with a roll of her eyes. "Like this isn't making it into your column."

He didn't deny it. He didn't need to. Just offered her a clumsy wink, and motioned to the building before them.

"One good turn deserves another, don't you think?" he suggested, and Emma's stomach dropped. "How does one merit an invitation to an exclusive gathering of expatriates, exactly? Do they check passports at the door? Make you recite the Pledge of Allegiance?"

He held his prosthetic over his heart, and affixed a solemn expression.

"Wrong hand, asshole," she said, grabbing his wrist and tugging his hand back down by his side.

"Probably for the best," Killian shrugged. "I confess I don't actually know the words. Does the School of Rock version count?"

"You seriously want to go up there? You know they're celebrating their independence from the English, right?"

"I'm a journalist, Swan. An arbiter of truth. Would you really deny me the materials I need to make an honest living?"

"You're a hack," Emma grumbled, clutching the bag of clothes to her chest.

"Aye, that I am," Killian agreed, dropping his voice at least an octave. "But a rather dashing one, don't you think?"

So this is how Killian Jones got what he wanted. The ol' razzle dazzle.

It wasn't entirely ineffective. With a huff of annoyance, Emma walked over to lean by the window of the cab. "What do you say, Robin? Want to see my countrymen cut loose and fight about politics?"

He tilted his head, considering her offer. "Do you really put marshmallows in your sweet potatoes?"

"Different holiday. But yeah, we do."

"Alright then," he said, gathering up his belongings where they were strewn across the back seat. "I'll be there presently."

Rapping her knuckles against the side of the cab, she turned back to Killian, who was looking unbearably pleased with himself. Even more than usual.

"Lead the way, lass" he declared, with an exaggerated bow.

"It's a little too late to play at being the gentleman, don't you think?" Emma pointed out.

"Oh?" he asked, his gaze unnervingly direct. "And why is that, Swan?"

If he was trying for intimidation, then he really didn't know Emma well enough. Instead, she simply turned to lead the way back up the stairs to the front stoop, bag swinging by her side. "I'm just saying…" she replied in a sing-song voice. "A gentleman wouldn't have looked."

***

When Emma pictured a Fourth of July barbecue, she pictured hot dogs, hyperactive neighborhood kids with water pistols, and sunshine. The Edinburgh version was something very different.

For one thing, it was not a family affair. For another, she doubted you could even really call it a barbecue, when there was no grill in sight. And unfortunately, for Emma, the party was still in full swing when she returned after her costume change, all of her dreams for a quick getaway evaporating along with the last of the punch.

If anything, the numbers had swelled with a sea of Uncle Sams and Lady Liberties spilling out into the garden, wine glasses in hand. If Emma hadn't already realized the gross pay disparity between educators and administrators, the garden would've really sealed it.

You couldn't swing a Heriot Row townhouse on Emma's salary. Hell, you couldn't even swing a Heriot Row parking space on Emma's salary. Yet somehow, the university muckety-muck who'd been bullied into hosting this little soiree didn't seem to have that problem.

At least the booze was free.

Emma looked longingly over at the refreshments table, but gave it a wide berth. The last thing she needed to do was ruin her borrowed sweater. It was a little on the tight side, but she did appreciate its fuzzy warmth. Even as she wondered if Killian had purposefully picked out the preppiest sweater he could find, or if she was just cursed.

"Hey," came a call from her left. It was a guy in a Captain America outfit, with none of Chris Evan's dimensions. "Ivanka, right?"

Emma looked down at herself, wondering if that was the name of the designer. "I'm sorry?"

"You're dressed as Ivanka Trump, right? Nice."

He was gone before she could deny it, and she glanced back to the gilded mirror in the hallway in alarm. With her hair recently straightened, she had to admit to a passing resemblance. If you squinted.

Oh god.

She had to find the boys and get them out of here, before she was pilloried as a Republican infiltrator.

She scanned the crowd, but the only person in a leather jacket she saw was channeling Maverick from Top Gun. Frustrated, she headed out into the garden, where she spotted Robin, cornered amongst the shrubberies by a very determined looking woman in a Wonder Woman costume.

Was Wonder Woman even American, technically?

Whatever the debates on her true origin, Emma had to admit the woman pulled off the look, even if the cleavage spilling out from the neckline of the outfit was a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen. She was fully fixated on Robin, her fingers trailing up and down his arm, laughing at one of his anecdotes.

As she walked by she shot him a questioning look, in case he needed an assist, but he just gave a wink, and started in on a new story.

Hot Single Dad Robin still had it. And something told her he wouldn't be up for any plan that involved cutting out with her early.

Heaving a sigh, she liberated a Coors Light from an icebox and took another turn around the garden.

"Ivanka?" Another woman asked, her look practically accusatory.

"Elle Woods," Emma blurted out. The sweater was baby blue, not pink, but it was the best she could come up with on the fly.

Hurrying away from that interaction, she rounded a pillar and finally came upon her quarry, sitting alone on a bench beside a gurgling water feature.

"And here I thought you'd be the life of the party," Emma said, snagging the space beside him. She gestured towards where Robin was getting half his face mauled off by Wonder Woman. "Was every other member of the Justice League taken?"

She was rewarded with the ghost of a smile, but his gaze was still fixed ahead, not really seeing, as he rolled an unopened bottle of Budweiser between his fingers.

"You okay?" Emma asked, taking the bottle from his hand and removing the cap with a well-placed tap against the side of the bench.

"Where'd you learn that little trick?" he asked, ignoring her question as he accepted the open bottle.

"A bus shelter in Framingham, Massachusetts." It was more detail than he was expecting, and she nearly laughed at the sudden brightness in his eyes. "It was my first beer. You kind of remember stuff like that."

"You has your first beer in a bus shelter in Framingham Massachusetts?" He repeated it back, like there was something especially weird about that.

"Yeah. I was 14, and in between foster homes. Stole a six pack from the Stop and Shop after the clerk told me off for browsing the magazines. And then some old army vet at the bus shelter showed me how to take the cap off against the side of a trash can."

He furrowed his brows. "You're trying to get me to open up by revealing things about yourself. Which you never do."

"Maybe," Emma offered, taking a swig of her beer. "Is it working?"

He took a long sip on his own bottle, made a face, and then settled it back into his lap. "You mentioned a brush with the law, as a teenager. I'm assuming that wasn't for underage drinking at bus stops?"

Emma grimaced. "Not so much. Possession of stolen goods, with intent to sell. I got lucky. The watch I had on me was worth just shy of $500. They knocked it down to a misdemeanor and I got probation."

"You stole a watch?"

"No, my skeezy boyfriend stole a case of watches. I just happened to be wearing one when he called the cops to frame me while he took off to Canada with the rest."

"When he what?! Please tell me this wanker is dead in a ditch somewhere." Emma had to admit, she didn't mind his tone. Like he might go out and finish the job, if need be.

Emma shrugged, picking at the label on her bottle. "Probably. I never saw him again after that."

"So that explains it," Killian huffed.

"Explains what?" Emma asked, preparing to get defensive.

"Your Walsh fellow's appeal. I'm guessing he wasn't the larcenous type?"

Oh. Not even remotely.

"Yeah, he was the kind of guy who washed out his jars before he put them in the recycling. He was kind of the anti-Neal."

"That was his name? Neal?"

"Neal Cassidy," Emma sighed. "And yes, like the writer. He had it changed when he was 18 as a Fuck You to his Dad."

"Well, he sounds like a right tosser."

Emma snorted. "Yeah, pretty much."

"And not all that clever, if he thought losing you for a case of watches was an even trade."

That had Emma looking up, sarcastic retort on the tip of her tongue. But instead of making fun, Killian's expression was deadly serious, eyes meeting hers directly. Like he actually meant it. Emma's gaze flicked back to the label on her beer, nearly entirely peeled away by this stage, and fought to keep her face level.

"You think so?" she asked, her words coming out less jokingly than she intended.

"I do."

It was the answer that had her looking back up again, a frown forming. "Killian, I-"

"You're worth at least two cases," he added. "Maybe three. I mean, what are we talking here? Cartier? Rolex?" His eyebrow was raised again in that familiar roguish way.

Emma let out a breath, and extinguished the tiny flame that burned somewhere inside her stomach. Friends, she reminded herself. They were friends.

"You're hilarious," Emma replied deadpan. "And if we're going to continue sharing, I really need something stronger than this," she said, tipping back her head and draining the last of her bottle.

"When I was looking for extra chairs earlier, I think I saw a wet bar in the study. Fancy a dram?" Killian asked, rising to his feet.

"Oh, so you're journalistic snooping does come in handy sometimes?"

"More than sometimes," he said with a grin that would fell a lesser beast. And suddenly Emma wasn't so sure the flame was truly out.

Later, she still couldn't recall whether he'd held out a hand to take her empty bottle, or to help her up. All she knew, was as they moved from the garden back to the party proper, she had Killian's hand in hers.

***

Reasons Not To Push Killian Jones Up Against The Nearest Wall And Have Your Way With Him:

1. Hello, work event. Have some goddamn professionalism.

2. You're wearing Elsa's clothes. Don't make this weird.

3. You like him, and never talking to him again would suck.

4. He would definitely allude to it in his column, and you would have to emigrate. Again.

5. Graham. Oh, fuck. Graham.

***

The upstairs study was everything you'd expect from an overpaid university administrator. Soft red leather furnishings. Framed certificates covering an entire wall. A solid oak desk that could, hypothetically, bear the weight of two people at once.

And, oh yeah, the promised wet bar.

Emma was not, nor had she ever been, a cheater. And even if she and Graham were still only in the "getting to know you" phase of tentative texts and PG-13 cocktail hours, she knew betraying that would still be a shitty thing to do.

So when Killian offered her the glass of whisky, she didn't do what she wanted to do, which was down the lot and drag him towards her by the collar. Instead, she sat on the red leather couch as far from him as possible, and held the glass in front of her like a shield.

"Reminds me of your jacket," he said with a smile, letting his hand glide against the upholstery. Emma's skin still tingled from where his hand had gripped hers, so unused to foreign contact.

She took a gulp of her drink, and let it burn down her esophagus in penance for her crimes. Only once she'd regained sufficient control of her hormones did she speak.

"So, are you going to tell me what's been up with you?

"Up with me?" Killian replied, his oh-so-innocent look oh-so-unconvincing. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Oh, I don't know," Emma said, rolling her eyes heavenward. "The sudden phone emergencies. The brooding. The black eye. You've been different lately. Kind of… subdued, for you."

In answer, Killian drained what was left of his glass, and turned to face her. "Perceptive, aren't you, Swan?" He didn't sound happy about the fact.

Emma shrugged, taking another sip. "You can't kid a kidder."

He considered that, finger tapping absently against the side of his glass. "Perhaps not. Very well then. The truth: The magazine is broke."

It wasn't what Emma had been expecting. What had she been expecting? A secret drug habit? Abusive new girlfriend? Fight Club?

"Broke?" she repeated.

"Utterly. But instead of accepting the inevitable, and bowing out gracefully, my brother, well-intentioned idiot that he is, decided to take what was left in the coffers and make a few wagers."

Emma's heart sank into her stomach. "He didn't."

"Oh, he did. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, apparently. Lost the lot. Bloody prat. Thought he'd come back a conquering hero. Instead he's having to dip into his own savings to keep the whole operation afloat until he can find a way to pay back his bookie."

That explained the black eye.

"And no one knows about this? Don't you have accountants or something?"

"There is a fellow, Tim, who's been covering for him. Let him take out the entire balance in the first place, didn't he? So now he feels equally culpable. So there's Liam. Tim. Me. And now you."

"Elsa doesn't know?"

"Not in so many words. She isn't bloody stupid though. He's been decidedly distracted on the homefront. Probably thinks he's having a mid-life crisis or an affair or something stupid. Would be easier to just tell her, but the problem is, he knows if she finds out about it she'll feel obligated to help."

"Well, that would be a good thing, right? No more, uhhh…" Emma waved a hand over her eye.

"Well, when Elsa's parents died, they left her a good deal of money. Most of it went towards the house, and setting up her sister in New York, but there's enough left to get Weaver off his back. Problem is, my brother's pride would never let him accept it. And then there's the matter of Elsa's aunt."

"Elsa's aunt?"

"She owns the magazine. And let's just say, she's not quite as err… understanding as Elsa can be. If she gets word of it, there'll be criminal charges."

"Fuck."

"Fuck,' he agreed, leaning forward in his chair to pour himself another whisky.

"And you've just been carrying this all around on your shoulders for what? Months?"

"But what magnificent shoulders, wouldn't you say, Swan?" The grin was almost leering, but not in a good way. More in a defense mechanism kind of way.

"Don't do that," Emma chided, leaning over to smooth the wrinkle above his brows with her fingers. "Just be you."

"And how is that?" He asked, with a look of such genuine curiosity that her hand paused somewhere in the region of his jaw.

"Same as me," Emma shrugged. "A little fucked up. A little scared."

She leaned forward then, and placed a kiss on that same spot above his brow.

Maybe it wasn't where she'd wanted to kiss him five minutes ago, but it felt right. She heard him inhale sharply underneath her, but she didn't immediately break contact. Not until his face relaxed, and his arms came up to wrap around her waist.

She let her head fall onto his shoulder, and his on hers, breathing each other in. Comfortable fucking silence.

Only when her phone started chirping in her pocket did she pull away at last, steadying herself on his shoulders. "You're going to be okay, Killian Jones. You and your fucked up family."

The grin was wry, but it was real.

"You going to get that?" he asked, ducking his chin down to where they were practically intertwined. Probably best not to add vibration to the mix.

She fished the phone out of her pocket, and checked the caller ID.

August.

He never called. He sent ten page letters typed up on his pretentious vintage typewriter, but he never called.

With a look of apology, she peeled herself off of Killian's lap, and hit accept.

"August? Is someone dead?"

"Em! Where are you?" Wherever he was, he sounded cheerful. And just a little bit drunk. Well, it was the Fourth of July.

"Where am I? I'm in Scotland, where I'm supposed to be. How much have you had to drink?"

"Nooo," he corrected, words slurring a little. "I mean, where right now? Someone in your department told me you were at this party. But no one remembers seeing you. Are you here?"

Emma's stomach lurched. "Party? You mean, in Edinburgh?"

"Of course, in Edinburgh! The party I'm at, it's at… hang on," his words muffled as he conferred with nearby partygoers, "17 Heriot Row?"

Oh. Fucking. Fuck. Fucking August and his fucking surprises.

"I'll be five minutes. Stay right where you are."

Feeling the color drain from her face, she ended the call, and tucked her phone back into the pocket of her borrowed jeans. "We need to get downstairs. I need to-" She looked around for a mirror, but there were none in the vicinity. Of course.

"Lass?" He had her by the elbow, holding her still. "What has you all a-flutter?"

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. "You remember I mentioned my friend August?"

"Knee still creaks when it rains, August?" The boy did have superior recall. "Novelist August?"

"Yeah. Anyway, he's downstairs."

[dewitty1]

My Weekly Fic Recs Wrap Up

For Numbers 131-136  ╰(•̀ 3 •́)━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

Some fantastic fics in here this week,darlings! (ु*´З`)ू❣

131. The Vestigials by Ichigogalaxy

Ron is sent to an abandoned warehouse to respond to disturbances, only to get there and find Draco Malfoy, bloody, naked and surrounded by dead people. In comes Healer Harry, assigned to help him and figure out why Draco Malfoy has shown up in St. Mungo’s after he was supposed to be dead.

132. Here and Now by Morgan_Elektra

It’s been 5 years since the end of the war, but less than a week since Rita Skeeter outed Harry on the front page of The Prophet — and made some rather scandalous insinuations about him and his blond former nemesis. A chance (or is it?) encounter on a street corner reveals just how much has changed… and what remains the same. An over-sized courgette, some olive oil, a bottle of wine, and Ed Kowalczyk make things extra interesting.

133. One Night at the Leaky by birdsofshore

Harry should have known better than to accept a drunken dare. Especially when Malfoy was sitting right there, looking like that and wearing those bloody tight trousers.

134. Strangeness and Charm by FeelsForBreakfast

One November night during his eighth year at Hogwarts, Draco ends up in the forbidden forest. That’s how it starts.

or: If two boys fall in love in a magical forest, does it still make a sound?

135. Against All Odds by momatu

Beauxbatons is hosting the first ever Quidditch Summer School for children from all over Europe, and Harry has promised to enroll Teddy as his birthday present. Meanwhile, Draco is stuck in his office, putting together the first ever Quidditch Summer School for children from all over Europe during, when he should be enjoying summer holidays.

136. Expectations (And Their Undoing) by SqueekaCuomo

Draco thought planning a charity ball would be easy. (It wasn't.) He thought Scorpius would be great at flying. (He wasn't.) And he thought Harry Potter would treat him like he did when they were kids. (He didn't.)

If you want longer excerpts please make sure to look at the fic recs tags on my page. Here are a few more lovely fics for you to check out!=。:.ﾟ(●ö◡ö●):.｡+ﾟ

Sexting Central by Jeldenil @jeldenil

Draco withdraws into an empty compartment for some very important research into Muggle romance. He doesn't expect anyone to join him.

Sexting Station by keyflight790 @keyflight790

Harry gets a dirty text from Neville. Draco is caught off-guard.

Everybody Wants Some by PollyWeasley @polly-weasley

Harry comes back to finish his Eighth year at Hogwarts and it seems like the summer after the war has worked miracles on him. He's totally hot, muscular, and sexy - basically every gay boy's (and girl's) dream. Apparently Draco's body agrees, and all he can think every time he sees Potter is how badly he wants some of him.

A Convenient Impracticality by firethesound @firethesound

Somehow Harry ends up agreeing to a fake relationship with his ex-nemesis-turned-friendly-acquaintance-with-benefits, except for some reason it involves an awful lot of actual dating and, sadly, not much sex. Confused? Harry is too, but when has anything with Draco Malfoy ever been as straightforward as it seems?

Like a Star Across My Sky by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill), sdk @lqtraintracks @ilikebangbang

When Draco discovers Harry Potter is his new landlord, he's convinced he's going to lose his shop. When Harry discovers Draco Malfoy's been invited on his friends' annual ski trip, he's certain his holiday is ruined. This is the story about how neither one of them is right.

Happy reading, my lovely ones! I hope you enjoy these! More great fics to come this week! Thank you so much for all the love! xoxo - Carey

 (*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡💜💙💚💛🧡❤

[eah-exchange]

It Happened One Night

To: @venomade

From: @andtheyalllived

Summary:  Briar throws a party, Cupid brings enchanted mistletoe, Darling is tired of straight people, Cerise cuts her hair, and Faybelle gets drunk.

Rating: T

Word count: 2343

“What on earth is that?” Briar Beauty stared at the pink haired goddess standing on her doorstep. More specifically, she stared at the cardboard box resting between Cupid's hands.

Cupid glanced down at her hands, as if noticing for the first time that she was carrying something. “Oh, this. It’s mistletoe.”

Briar’s eyes flicked from Cupid’s box to her face then back to her box. Something wasn't right. “Thanks for the offer,” Briar said, “but we already have mistletoe at this party. You should probably just leave the box in your car.”

“This isn't normal mistletoe,” Cupid said, strolling past Briar into the great hall. “This is something special that I got from my cousin.”

“Which cousin?” Briar asked. You could never be too careful with Cupid. She had more cousins than any sane person could count.

“The one who lives at the North Pole.”

“You're related to Santa?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Cupid laughed, “I'm related to Mrs. Claus. Anyways, things get kind of boring up at the North Pole, so one of the elfs invented this.” Cupid threw open the top to reveal a bright green mistletoe woven between red and gold ribbons.

“That's…” Briar called to mind the endless etiquette lessons and politeness classes that she had taken over the years. “Nice, I guess.”

“It's a whole lot more than nice,” Cupid said, “This baby hones in on sexual tension. If two people with a significant amount of sexual tension happen to pass under it at the same time, then it won't let them out from underneath until they kiss.”

“Really?” Briar’s eyes widened. This was great. Absolutely and totally perfect. “The parties in the first ballroom on your left. The servants are just finishing decorating. You can ask one of them to hang it up.”

“Or I can just fly it up myself,” Cupid said with a grin.

“Or you could do that.”

Cupid trotted off towards the ballroom while Briar remained by the door. Her butler, Jefferson, had offered to answer the doorbell, but Briar had refused. Half of the fun of throwing a party was seeing everyone as they stepped through the doorway.

Ashlynn showed up first, as was expected, with a lumbering Hunter Huntsman in tow, which was also expected. The two of them were wearing matching Christmas sweaters that appeared to be homemade.

Next came the wonderlandians. All of them tumbled in together chatting about Christmas traditions that were outlandish and, frankly, wonderful. Alistair had somehow managed to wrestle Kitty into a festive pair of reindeer antlers, which she wore very begrudgingly.

Apple White, Blondie, and Humphrey Dumpty showed up at the same time as Faybelle Thorn, Duchess Swan and Sparrow Hood. Briar watched as the six of them engaged ink a silent battle of the wills to decide who stepped over the threshold first. Eventually, Humphrey gave in and dragged the others in behind him.

Holly and Poppy showed up with a bushel of the former’s namesake. They were quickly followed by Hopper and Ginger, the latter of whom carried trays of baked sweats in her hands. The Charming siblings showed up a while afterwards. Darling and Dexter had matching twin sweaters with red reindeer noses. Under his letterman, Daring wore a shirt that read ‘I'm related to Dasher and Dancer.’

A few more students trickled in before the doorbell rang for a final time that night. Briar yanked open the door, smiling as she took in a shivering Raven and Cerise. Raven had dressed for the festivities, with a tacky Christmas sweater and a pair of dark washed jeans and boots. Cerise, on the other hand, looked like she was planning on going camping. She wore a pair of jeans and waterproof leather boots with a red plaid shirt and a beanie pulled over her hair.

“Your hair,” Briar said, staring at the tall girl’s hair. “You cut it.”

“Yeah, well I figured that since the secret is out there's no reason to keep it long anymore.”

Briar noted that while the fact that Cerise Hood was a werewolf was common knowledge, she still kept the beanie pulled over her wolf ears. “No. It looks good.”

“Thanks,” Cerise said.

“Are we the last two?” Raven asked to which Briar nodded. “I'm sorry about that, by the way. I had a hard time convincing Cerise to come. Cedar flat out refused.”

“It's fine,” Briar said. She gestured for Raven and Cerise to follow her. “The party’s this way.”

~

Duchess Swan was not about to kiss Sparrow Hood. No. Nope. Not at all. If that meant that she spent all night stuck under some damned enchanted mistletoe then so be it. Her and Sparrow were never going to kiss. Ever.

“For goodness sake,” Faybelle groaned, “just kiss already and be done with it.”

“No.” Duchess crossed her arms and glared at Sparrow, who had assumed a similar stance.

“Right. Well, I’m going to go get drunk. Try to have some fun, lovebirds.”

“We’re not lovebirds!”

“Keep telling yourselves that.” Faybelle abandoned Duchess and Sparrow beneath the mistletoe.

Duchess glanced at Sparrow. “We’re not lovebirds.”

“I know that,” Sparrow snapped back.

“Good.”

“Good.”

~

Parties had never been and never would be Cerise Hood’s thing. She had been to a few over her high school career and all of them were exactly the same: loud music, sloppy dancing, and people getting drunk and doing stupid things. Like playing spin the bottle. That was a stupid thing.

“Come on,” Raven said, “It’ll be fun.” The amazing part was that Raven wasn’t even drunk yet. She just wanted to play spin the bottle because it was all part of the ‘high school experience’ or whatever.

“I’ve got a bottle of my own here.” Cerise lifted the bottle of sparkling cider that she held in her hand.

“It’s just a silly game,” Raven insisted.

“If it’s just a silly game then why do you need me to play it?”

“Because you’re my friend.”

“Thanks,” Cerise said, “but I’m good.”

“Suit yourself,” Raven said as she skipped away to join the growing group playing spin the bottle, taking a seat directly across from Dexter Charming. Subtle.

Cerise settled into the loveseat the she had taken over and allowed her eyes to roam the room. Since she’d been outed as a werewolf, several of her former friends and classmates had avoided her. She'd expected Duchess Swan to turn up her nose when she walked by, but she hadn't expected so many of the royals to reject her. The most prominent rejection had come from Holly O’Hair, who refused to even glance her way.

It was strange. Cerise had lived her whole life in the shadows, and now that she was finally in the light she had no idea what to do. So she continued on with her life. She played bookball, and went to school, and attended parties that she hated with Raven. All the while, her classmates acted like she was a different person. Some pitied her. Some avoided her. Rosebella Beauty seemed to find her parent's story beautiful and tragic, which was rather annoying.

“Hey, ‘rise.” Daring Charming plopped down on the loveseat next to her and crossed his legs. Surprisingly, Daring was one of the only people who's perception of her hadn't seemed to change. Even Cedar acted strangely around her, but Daring acted like nothing happened. Maybe to him nothing had. “I like the new do.”

Cerise raised a hand to touch her chopped locks. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome,” Darise replied, “How're the holidays going?”

“Good,” Cerise responded, “My sister got invited on the Dancer family ski trip, so it's just me at the moment.”

“That must be nice.”

“It is, I guess. It certainly gave me no excuse to avoid the party.”

“I was thinking about skipping too,” Daring said, “but then I figured that Briar would kill me if I didn't at least make an appearance.”

Cerise glanced at Daring, studying the lines of his face as she did so. It was awfully angular, with sharp cheekbones and hawk-like eyes set over a pair of full lips. She could see why so many girls liked him. She could see why she'd had a crush on him back in the day. He was all heroic and stuff. But then they'd become friends, and all thoughts of a romantic relationship had flown out of the window. Well, most of them anyways.

Lost in thought, Cerise missed Daring speaking. She tore her eyes away from his angular face to find him staring at her expectantly. “I'm sorry. What?”

“I asked if you want to blow this popsicle stand and do something more interesting.”

Cerise nodded. “That sounds like fun.”

“Great. I'm parked outside.”

~

Duchess Swan watched the precisions of the party unfold before her, unable to participate in any of it. Curse Cupid and her stupid mistletoe. Why did she have to get stuck under it with Sparrow? Why couldn't she be stuck with Daring Charming? She wouldn't have hesitated to make out with Daring.

She watched the game of spin the bottle that was taking place in the far corner of the room. Darling had just gotten into a fight with Dexter over something stupid and was ranting about straight people while the rest of the players laughed. Now that looked like fun. A whole lot more fun than being stuck under the mistletoe with Sparrow freakin’ Hood.

She turned to glare at him only to find him staring at her. The look in his eyes frightened her. It was unlike any that she'd seen before. It was soft. Her harsh words died in the threat as she stared at him.

Tentatively, she took a step forwards so that they were a mere inches away from each other. She could count the freckles on his nose.

“Just so you know,” Duchess whispered, “this doesn't mean anything.”

Before she could talk herself out of it, she leaned forward and brushed her lips against Sparrow’s. It was barely a kiss--not much more than a quick peck, really. As soon as she pulled back, she felt the magic of the mistletoe slip away.

“Right,” Sparrow whispered, “Not a thing.” Duchess nodded, but neither of them made a move to leave.

~

“I am the queen of stars!” Faybelle Thorn shouted as she floated over the party with a beer in her hand.

Briar groaned as she studied her archnemesis. This was bad. Inviting Faybelle to the party may not have been the best idea in the first place, but Briar would rather not scorn a fairy. Even if that fairy was Faybelle.

“I thought that fairies couldn’t get drunk,” Briar muttered under her breath. It was a well known fact that fairies have an extremely high tolerance to alcohol, which meant that Faybelle had to drink a lot of wine and beer to get in her current state.

“Watch me soar!”

“Wow, she’s really drunk,” Farrah commented beside her.

“Yeah,” Briar said, “She is. Can you-”

“Get her down from there? I’m already on it.” Farrah took off into the air, grabbing a more-than-tipsy Faybelle and dragging her to the floor. She stumbled as they landed. “Whew. She’s a lot heavier than she looks.”

“I am not,” Faybelle pouted, crossing her arms in defense. “I am queen of the stars,” she mumbled.

“What does that mean?” Farrah asked.

“I have no idea.” Briar grabbed Faybelle’s arm. “Come on. I think that there’s some sober up potion in the kitchen.” Leaving Farrah alone, Briar led Faybelle through multiple corridors until they arrived in the kitchen.

Thes kitchen was bustling with servant activity as Briar dragged Faybelle through the entrance. The cook, Mrs. Rose, glanced up as Briar entered and a wide grin spread across her face. “What brings you down here?” she asked, “Who’s your friend?”

“She’s not my friend,” Briar answered, “She’s my arch nemesis. Faybelle’s drunk, and she needs a sober up potion.”

Mrs. Rose’s knowing eyes studied Briar and the dazed fairy beside her. “I’ll just whip up a batch of hot chocolate for the two of you.”

“Thank you,” Briar sighed. “You have no idea how grateful I am.”

“You’re welcome, darling.”

~

Cerise had never been one for window shopping. Then again, she wasn’t one for shopping either. She wasn’t a frivolous person, and she never understood the appeal of going store to store looking at things that you can’t buy. Yet, somehow, she found herself walking with Daring through the sidewalks of downtown Book End, glancing into the brightly lit windows.

“Thanks for coming with me.” Daring’s hands were stuffed into the pockets of his dark coat.

Cerise almost chuckled at the two of them. Walking side by side, they couldn’t look more different. Daring was all refined edges and charming smiles, while Cerise was made of shadows and flannel. The only thing that they had in common was their height. Cerise was slightly over six feet, probably an inch or two shorter than Daring himself was.

“It’s no big,” Cerise said.

“Sure, it is,” Daring insisted. They came to a stop before the shining windows of a coffee shop and Daring slipped his fingers in hers. “Coffee?”

Cerise took her eyes off of their hands - they fit together so naturally - and met his steel eyes. She smiled. “That sounds good.”

Daring smiled in return. “Good.”

~

Faybelle stared at the fire, a steaming cup of hot cocoa resting in her hands. Briar sat beside her, a cup of cocoa in her hands. Neither of them said a word. She watched at the flames danced before her, flickering from one place to another before disappearing altogether. They were pretty. She glanced at Briar beside her.

Beautiful.

“Thanks,” Faybelle said, “You didn’t have to do that.”

Briar glanced at her. Their eyes held for a moment before she glanced away. “You’re welcome.”

They sat in silence for the remainder of the night, long past the end of the party until the sky started to turn a hazy blue. It was surprisingly comfortable.

[pondandpuddlejumping-blog]

We have a lot of catching up to do...

You know the friend that you have where you can go months or even years without talking and it’s like nothing has changed and you’re happy to just catch up on everything that has happened since the last time you spoke? Oh good, ‘cause that’s what this blog has become. 

We have five months of catching up to do. This is not how I had intended this blog to be and I’m a bit disappointed with myself that I’ve gone five months without a single update considering all of the great adventures I’ve been on in the mean time. For the summer I’m entertaining the idea that I will do at least 1 post a month, which is totally attainable. I’m planning to stay in Europe over the summer and I have some friends and family visiting over the next 4 months so I will not be short of things to write about. 

Anyway, here’s the Reader’s Digest version of my life over the past five months though a lot has happened so this post is longer than my others:

Christmas 2017: London, Vienna, and Bled

I decided to stay in Europe over the Christmas holiday. We got a 5 week break and I had plans to spend some time in London, Vienna, and Bled. My friend was kind enough to let me stay in her London flat while she went to home to Canada and for the latter half of my break I had plans to meet up with a couple friends from my Halifax to explore Vienna and Bled. 

Firstly, I was blown away by the lights and decorations alone. London knows Christmas. It made how we decorate at home look like peanuts in comparison. The lights on Regent street and Oxford street were stunning. I also checked out Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park and multiple Christmas markets around the city. I was also pleasantly surprised by the number of skating rinks set up around the city and was sure to take advantage of them.

Christmas decorations at Spitalfields Market. 

This was the first time that I would be spending Christmas away from family. I hadn’t made it home to my immediate family for Christmas 2016 but I had gotten to spend it with my aunt and uncle who lived in Edmonton, a city only a few hours from Calgary, so it didn’t hit me in quite the same way it had hit me this year. There were multiple points during the day where I regretted not going home. However, I wasn’t completely alone, a friend from school had also decided to spend Christmas in Europe and so the two of us were making the most of our surroundings. 

We went to the service at Westminster Abbey for Christmas morning. I’m not a religious person in the slightest however, I was able to appreciate the service in a way that I had never experienced church before. The sense of community and just genuine joy that seemed to be in the air was comforting. This was also the first time I had been inside the Abbey and it was incredible. 

Our original plan was to go to the movies after the service however literally EVERYTHING is closed on Christmas day in the UK. Who knew? So, we went on a mission to at least find a restaurant that was open. We ended up in Chinatown for a late Christmas lunch and after lunch proceeded to go on a nice walk through the city: seeing Marble Arch, through Kensington Park and past Buckingham Palace. Even though I had been feeling homesick more than I had ever been since arriving in the UK, I was also really happy to have spent Christmas day experiencing things I wouldn’t otherwise have had the opportunity to. 

The next city on my list over the holiday break was Vienna. This was also where I would be ringing in the New Year. I had come to notice that the over-the-top Christmas decorations wasn’t just a London thing but rather a European thing. Vienna did not disappoint. The city was oozing with culture and history and I was excited to explore. 

We went to the Albertina museum, saw a small ensemble performance of Strauss and Mozart (twice!), and went to the state opera over the next four days in addition to checking out other museums, Christmas markets, and (more) ice skating. I think the thing that I loved most about this city was the food! I definitely overindulged while in this city but that’s what vacation is for, right? It was also so lovely catching up with my friends. I hadn’t seen one of the them in almost two years so we had a lot of catching up to do - she had been on some crazy adventures herself, through Southeast Asia!

With the year coming to a close I had the opportunity to reflect on all that had happened. 2017 was good to me: not only had I moved overseas and started law school but earlier in the year I had learned to ski and was getting more into rock climbing and hiking. I had also reconnected with old friends and made many new ones. I was looking forward to continuing this positive trend and seeing what the New Year had to offer. 

City Hall Christmas Market. The NYE fireworks display went off behind City Hall.

We rang in the New Year with a bottle of Champagne in the City Hall square watching fireworks and dancing to live music. Again, a moment where I had a brief sting of homesickness but also surrealness - I was ringing in the New Year in Vienna! How incredible is that?

From Vienna we travelled 6 hours by train to Bled, Slovenia. Not the first place on everyone's travel list but it definitely should be! I was so pleasantly surprised by this town. It seriously looks like Narnia and that we had walked through the wardrobe upon arriving. The Alps are literally the backdrop to the town and Lake Bled, with its island church, adds to the picturesque landscape. 

View from a look-off we hiked up to. Notice Bled Castle in the background on top of the cliff. 

We spent two days in the town, hiking around the lake and up to the castle. The town isn’t very big but it was nice to just wander around and relax after the sights and sounds of Vienna and London. Bled is very sleepy in comparison. 

Most of the other tourists around are there for the skiing. There are shuttles leaving regularly from the town centre to the ski hill. I noticed that Bled also offers “adventure vacations” in the summer with SUP, canoe and kayaking tours, and white water rafting. Again, not a destination I would consider for an adventure vacation but now that we’d been there I would love to go back and experience that. 

Panoramic of town from Bled Castle. 

After our time in Bled we trained back to Vienna for one final night before parting ways to fly back home. I spent the final days of the break in London. Another friend of mine had moved to London on the 30th and it was great catching up with him before heading back to Canterbury. 

January 2018: Oslo, Norway

Within the first few days back in classes I booked a weekend trip to Oslo with some of the other girls at school. Flights were only £20 round trip! We quickly realized that our flight would be the cheapest thing all weekend. Norway is very expensive in comparison to other places I’ve travelled. That’s not to say that we didn’t have an excellent weekend, just that my original budget for the weekend was severely underestimated. Sorry bank account. 

This is when I’m supposed to justify my actions by yelling YOLO! and saying quotes like “travel is the only thing you buy that makes you richer.” Regardless, Oslo is a beautiful city and I loved learning about Norse culture and the Viking Age and would love more time to explore this city. Sculptures and paintings depicting Norse mythology are all over the city. We also went to the Viking museum where we got to see three Viking ships, including the world’s best preserved ship. The museum also had countless artefacts and a visual journey through the Viking Age. I highly recommend checking this place out if you’re in Oslo.

This picture does not do justice to how large these ships were. Like, look at the rudder! Also notice the carvings on the ship. 

Another highlight of our weekend was Holmenkollen National Arena, which hosts cross-country and biathlon venues as well as Holmenkollbakken, a large ski jumping hill. We venture up to the Arena for what we’ve been told are stunning views of the city and to watch the sun set. However, the day we went, the city is covered in a sea of clouds. The sunset is still spectacular and the arena also has a small museum of the history of the ski jump which was interesting. 

Under that sea of cloud is Oslo.

Other quick highlights from the weekend include seeing the architectural gem The National Opera House, the nightlife of the Grünerløkka district, the Vigeland sculpture park, and the Mathallen food hall. We packed a lot into that weekend! 

Mathallen Food Hall from above. 

Reading Week - February 2018: Warsaw, Poland

I travelled to Warsaw over the Winter reading week in February with two friends for a week-long conference on international commercial and corporate law hosted by ELSA - Warsaw (European Law Students’ Association). While this trip was mostly academic, the organizing committee also scheduled free time for us to explore during some of the days and hosted great social programmes in the evenings.

This was my first academic conference and it did not disappoint. We got to connect with law students from across Europe and engage with lecturers and professionals from around the world.

Warsaw is a beautiful city with a mix of old and new architecture. Fun fact: about 90% of the city was actually rebuilt after the war due to destruction and the modelling of the buildings came from pre-war pictures and paintings.

Entering the old part of the city.

The historic campus of the University of Warsaw is incredible and some of the buildings remind me of Dalhousie University where I did my first undergrad. The university is actually where Chopin studied music! And the law faculty is actually the oldest on campus, founded in 1808. 

On the main gate leading into campus.

The academic program for the week was organized around lectures, panel discussions and debates, and allowed ample opportunity to ask questions. At the end of the week we also got the chance to participate in workshops hosted by local firms. This conference supplemented the material that we’d been learning so far in the company law module at school. 

When not in class we skated at the National Stadium, checked out local nightlife, explored the Jewish Institute and the Museum of the History of Polish Jews, and went to a gala dinner hosted at the National Library at the end of the week. The week went by a lot faster than we would have liked.

The Supreme Court of Poland. 

March 2018: Stirling, Scotland

Lastly, my most recent trip (end of March), and second major ELSA event for the term, Scotland! I was so excited to go. Another weekend trip, I went with one of the friends I travelled to Warsaw with. We represented our local ELSA group at the National Committees Meeting for all of the UK ELSA groups. We also got to reconnect with some of the participants we had met at the Warsaw conference.

This weekend was a chance for us to meet other local ELSA groups, hear about what they had accomplished over the last academic year, and see their plans for the upcoming year. The University of Stirling group were excellent hosts and the campus was beautiful.    

Though we were based in Stirling for the weekend we also did a day trip to Edinburgh before heading back to Canterbury. Scotland is stunning. There are no other words to describe it. The history, the lush green space and mountains (which was a nice change from the flatness of England), and the people, who were so nice and genuine, made for a fantastic weekend. 

Wondering through old town in Edinburgh.

A part from the committees meeting, we toured Deanston Distillery and did a whiskey tasting paired with chocolate. We also explored Stirling Castle and the town centre. On our day trip to Edinburgh we walked through old town, tried the declared “best haggis in the city”, and went on a tour of Holyrood Palace (Fun fact: this is the official summer residence of the Queen!). I enjoyed Scotland so much and have already booked a trip back to Edinburgh for late August when my brother comes to visit the UK. 

Our whiskey tasting after the tour of the distillery. We were the only two to sign up!

Scotland made me feel like home. Which isn’t that surprising seeing as many families in Nova Scotia have origins in Scotland and in some communities in Cape Breton Gaelic is still commonly spoken. 

Panoramic from Stirling Castle. The weather was unseasonably warm. 

If you made it this far reading about my recent adventures, I thank you for bearing with me as I chose the highlights to mention. I found it hard to keep things short. 

The first year of my degree is quickly coming to an end and I’m honestly so shocked that I’ve already been in the UK for 8 months. I feel like I only just arrived! I’ve definitely been bitten by the travel bug and have started to plan a couple trips for after my exams.    

[nyangibun]

Twist of Fate

For @jonxsansafanfiction​‘s Valentines Challenge! Day 2: Sharing a Bed Summary: Modern AU: Sansa is forced to spend the holidays with her brother and his friends at a remote cabin in Scotland, but when Jon comes back from a walk injured, Sansa volunteers to stay behind and look after him. 

Sansa didn’t want to be here. She was supposed to be skiing, not stuck in a cabin with Robb and his stupid little friends, and she wouldn’t be if it wasn’t for Arya and her stupid little mouth. Now Joffrey was up there without her and Margaery was going to get her well-manicured paws all over him. It wasn’t fair. She was seventeen; what was so wrong with a co-ed trip? It wasn’t as if they were all going to be sharing a room and bathing naked together. Her parents were just overreacting. Sansa was positive Robb had gone on his first co-ed trip with his friends around her age. This was sexism!

“Are you still pouting about your dumb trip?”

The door slammed shut, letting in a blast of cold air. Robb walked the four steps from the door to the kitchen island and plopped himself on a stool in front of her. Sansa recoiled from the proximity, still furious with her brother, and pulled the bowl of cereal with her.

“Sans, c’mon,” Robb said, pleadingly. “It’s not that bad. It’s better than being alone over Christmas.”

Sansa fixed him with her darkest scowl. “I’d rather be alone.”

“You’re being unreasonable.” Robb rolled his eyes at her antics and crossed his arms over his chest. “This is the best out of a bad situation.”

When she didn’t offer up a response, Robb sighed and walked past her towards the corridor adjacent to the open kitchen. She heard his room shut softly with a click. Distantly, she could admit he was right, but with her current mood, Sansa refused to acknowledge anything Robb was saying. She didn’t care that the rest of her family had pre-booked a holiday to Spain for the holidays, excluding her since she was supposed to be in Switzerland. She didn’t care that realistically there was no way Eddard and Catelyn Stark were going to let their seventeen-year-old daughter stay home alone in a big manor. She didn’t even care that Robb had graciously offered to let her tag along with him and his friends to a cabin in the north of Scotland and that one of his friends had relented his own room to let Sansa have a bed.

No, at this moment, Sansa didn’t care about anything. She was mad; she was bored; she was so unbelievably cold she could hardly feel her fingers. Where was the heating in this bloody place?

The door opened again and several more people filed in. Sansa recognised some, childhood friends of Robb, but the others she assumed must be people from university that she didn’t know. A couple of girls smiled at her before disappearing down the same corridor Robb had gone down only moments ago. But two remained and they walked up to the island.

“Morning,” Theon said, leering, which made Sansa want to throw up her cereal right then and there. She smiled tightly in greeting. A second later, after realising she wasn’t going to offer him anymore, Theon sighed. “Right, I’ll just go then.”

Her shoulders relaxed as soon as he was gone. Sansa looked towards the last remaining person.

Jon was busy typing something into his phone but sensing that she was staring, he looked up, grey eyes meeting blue. “Sorry. That’s rude of me.” He pocketed his phone and offered her a sincere smile. “Coco pops?” At her blank stare, Jon chuckled softly. “Your cereal.”

Sansa looked down at her bowl. “Oh. Yeah, coco pops.”

“Good,” was all Jon said for awhile, then he smiled again. “I knew those were your favourite. Made Theon grab them when we found out you were coming with.”

That took Sansa by surprise. She stared, unblinkingly, at Jon for a long second, before her brain finally caught up to her. “How do you know that?”

Jon shrugged. “I’ve had enough breakfasts at your house to know.”

“But I doubt Robb even knows that.”

“He wouldn’t know if a horse wandered into your house if it’s early enough,” Jon told her, and just like that, she laughed. For the first time in days since her parents forbade her to go on the Switzerland trip, Sansa truly, truly laughed. It was so freeing and so jarring because of who had made her laugh that she blushed involuntarily.

Jon smiled again and stood up. “We’re going for a walk down by the lake if you want to join.” But they both knew she wouldn’t join. “Anyway, enjoy your coco pops.”

He walked towards the corridor and was almost out of sight when Sansa suddenly spoke up again, much to her own surprise. “Thank you, Jon, for the room. I know the couch isn’t ideal so… thank you.”

“It’s no matter.”

A second later, a door clicked shut.

Their walk around the lake took much of the afternoon, that when they eventually returned, the sun was already beginning to set just beyond the white-dusted mountains. Sansa was sitting in a cocoon of blankets, reading, when they all walked in, trailing dirt and twigs into the cabin, but instead of being disgusted, making some snide comment to Robb, Sansa’s eyes widened when Robb and Theon assisted Jon in through the door. He looked a mess with snow in his hair and all over his coat. His face was contorted in pain, cursing loudly when the two boys unceremoniously dropped him onto the couch in front of Sansa.

“What happened!”

“Slipped down a mountainside, didn’t ya, sunshine?” Robb laughed, poking Jon on the shoulder. He earned a colourful swear word and a kick to the shins for that.

“One minute he was there then, woosh, he was gone,” Theon added with a dramatic flourish of his hands.

Sansa rolled her eyes at this. She began to reach forward for Jon’s hand when she stopped herself, wondering why she would want to do that. Instead, to avoid any repeat momentary lapses, Sansa placed her hands on her lap, wrapping them tightly around her book. “Are you okay?” she asked instead.

Jon shrugged, wincing as he did so. “I’ll be fine.”

“Aye and I’m the Queen of England,” Robb snorted. “You took a right tumble there, Jon.”

“I’m fine,” Jon said, emphasising each syllable with exasperation. His eyes hardened and he tried to stand to show he was, in fact, fine, but Robb quickly pushed him back down on the couch.

“No, you’re not, and you won’t be moving again for the rest of the night,” Robb said, all traces of humour gone. “We can stay in tonight.”

It occurred to Sansa that watching Jon fall down the side of a mountain must have wrecked Robb’s nerves in the process. They were more than just friends; they were brothers. Something she had seen firsthand when Jon had lost his mother and Robb had been there for every moment of that horrible time. Sansa was twelve then, too young to understand what loss really meant, but Robb was there, always there, and likewise, Jon was always there for Robb.

So Sansa stood up, letting the blankets pool to the floor, and closed the small distance so she was stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her brother. The time for spoiled, bratty Sansa was gone; she was loyal above all else, even if it rarely showed, and she cared a far greater deal than she let people know about the welfare of others.

“It’s okay, Robb,” Sansa said, placing a hand on her brother’s shoulder. “I’ll look after him. I’ll make sure he doesn’t move an inch from the couch.”

Robb glanced at her with a speculative frown. “Are you sure, Sans? It’s okay, you know. We can just go into town tomorrow night. I’ll ring Jeyne and Lysel and tell them to come back.”

“No, don’t be silly.” Sansa placed her hands on her hips. “Go. I’ll look after him.”

“You both realise I’m sitting right here, right?” Jon grumbled.

Robb placed a hand on his head and patted. “Shhh, the adults are speaking.” Jon jerked his head but winced again from the sudden movement.

“Go, Robb,” Sansa immediately said to avoid her brother’s indecision. It took a further twenty minutes to finally coax both Robb and Theon to leave, but finally, they were alone, and that knowledge made her suddenly very aware of Jon. This didn’t escape Jon either as he shifted uncomfortably, glancing up at her and glancing away again.

“Look, Sansa, you don’t have to… I’ll be okay here,” he mumbled awkwardly and raised one hand to rub at the back of his neck.

Sansa chewed at her bottom lip, debating on what she was going to say next, but the pain on his face was enough to convince her to just do it. “I lied to Robb,” she announced quickly before she lost her nerve. “I am going to make you move from this couch.” Jon tilted his head in adorable confusion and it drove all the doubts from her mind in one breathy chuckle. “I’m moving you to the bed, Jon. You can’t sleep out here when your back is clearly in pain… and don’t bother arguing because I won’t have it. C’mon.”

Jon opened his mouth anyways to speak but she shook her head adamantly, angling her body so she could shoulder most of his weight. He hesitated for a second but sighed, placing an arm around her. The warmth from his body made Sansa flush for reasons she’d rather not examine right now and she was glad for the curtain of red hair that shielded her from his gaze. Together, they moved, slowly, but steadily to her bedroom. She gently helped him under the duvet and placed it up to his chin.

“Now stay here and I’ll go make you some dinner.”

Once the somewhat slightly burnt pasta was consumed, Sansa took their bowls and got up from the chair she had been sitting by his bedside to leave. She didn’t look forward to sleeping on the couch but she wasn’t going to subject Jon to that either. Only when Sansa tried to walk away she was abruptly tugged back by a hand around her wrist.

“Stay.”

This time, there was no hair to hide her flushed cheeks. “What? Jon, you’re…”

“I’m fine,” he repeated. “And I wasn’t raised to let a girl sleep on the couch when there’s a perfectly good bed here.”

“But…”

“We’re just sharing a bed,” Jon assured her. “I promise I’ll keep to my side.” A faint smirk played on his lips and that made her blood run hot under her skin. Did he do that on purpose? Was he being oblivious or was he toying with her?

As Sansa settled in on the other side of the bed, body frozen with fear and anticipation, she realised she was the oblivious one, because somehow over the past couple of years, Jon had grown from the awkward, gangly boy she knew to a very broad, very strong man. A man who looked at her like she was as precious as a ruby. A man who made her feel wonderful, terrifying things in the deepest parts of her body, and lying in bed with him was, quite frankly, torture. Sansa shifted to her side, back towards him, then when that didn’t lure her to sleep, she shifted again to stare up at the ceiling. When Sansa tried to shift again for the third time, a hand wrapped around her forearm.

“Sansa,” Jon breathed out, the only sound in the whole cabin. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” she whispered. “I can’t sleep.”

There was a beat of silence, before, “are you uncomfortable around me?”

“No, no, that’s not it, it’s just –” Sansa sighed. “Yes. A little.”

“Would you rather sleep on the couch?” Jon turned so he was facing her; she only knew that because she could feel the bed move underneath him and the warmth of his gaze on her face.

Sansa turned too and searched for his grey eyes in the dark. She took a deep breath and forced herself to say, “no.”

There was another beat of silence before she felt his thumb stroking the curve of her cheekbone. Sansa inhaled sharply, feeling her heart quicken and body tighten with that same exhilarating sense of anticipation.

When Jon spoke next, she could feel his breath on her skin. “Am I making you uncomfortable now?”

She shook her head, belatedly realising he might not be able to see her. “No.”

The feel of his lips on her cheek startled her but when they travelled in light, feathery kisses along the line of her jaw to her already-parted lips, Sansa was ready. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, not wanting to jostle him too much, and leaned into the kiss as best as she could. It was altogether too much and too little for her body to handle. Sansa wanted to throw every jittering nerve, every confused emotion and frightening hope into the kiss, but he was injured and that thought was enough to sober her from pushing him too far.

“Comfortable now?” Jon asked. She could hear the smirk on his lips so she leaned forward and answered him with another, softer, quicker kiss. “Guess you are,” he chuckled. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his chest, so she was lying with her head tucked underneath his chin. “Good night, Sansa.”

“Night, Jon.”