#such a mind is how she really compartmentalizes everything / and why she seems so unbothered & aloof

[foreaft]

SHAPE OF PAIN : LUNA LOVEGOOD

A PICTURE   —   a single image reminding you of someone or something you’ve lost, something you don’t want to live without.  You can’t seem to move on, to accept life has changed, to live again.  You’re trapped in the picture, in the past.  Maybe this was a lost family member or friend, maybe this was a sickness that isn’t going away, maybe this was a sinking into depression.  But, you can’t help but remember how life was before, how life after will never be the same, and can’t help but feel that nothing in the future will be able to fill the hole the past left.  Nothing lasts forever .  .  . right?

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[dropssofjupitter]

Coffee Cups and Cigarettes

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Ever since Fred’s near death experience at the battle of Hogwarts, everyone at the Burrow had been walking on eggshells around him and doting on him as much as they could. Everyone, that is, except you. The end of the war may have freed everyone else, but it changed and hardened you. And after a late night walk, Fred is going to find out just how much. 

Word Count: 2.4k 

Warnings: Mentions of war, PTSD, nightmares, not handling trauma in a healthy way, mentions of depression but not in an explicit way, depictions of smoking, very slight mention of drinking

Masterlist

A/N: I don’t even know where this came from but here have an angst fic. Also I’m really sorry for the lack of content lately! I’ve been struggling with my mental health and am trying to pull myself out of my rut by picking back up my unfinished fics. 

You could still hear the screams. You could still remember watching bodies fall and the bright flashes of curses burst across your vision. You saw the bodies of Remus and Tonks, lying still, arms outstretched towards each other, every time you closed your eyes. You remembered the feeling of dread settling into your stomach as you spotted his deathly still body across the room, his family surrounding his body with tear stained faces. 

Memories of the war haunted you every time you closed your eyes, suffocating you with their feelings of fear and desperation. They woke you up in a panicked frenzy night after night, hands gripping the bed sheets and desperately reaching for your wand out of impulse. Eventually, you stopped trying to sleep. Instead you took to sitting in your room, a cup of coffee in your hand and a book open on your lap. To the others, it seemed like you were coping, like you were trying to return to whatever sense of normalcy that you’d had before the war. They couldn’t have been more wrong. What they saw as coping, you knew was the opposite. Instead, you were using the books and insomnia as a way to ignore your feelings of inner turmoil and pain. 

When the flashes of green curses began to overtake your vision every time a wave of exhaustion rolled through you, you turned to walks. You walked in the woods outside of the Burrow, letting the sickly sweet summer nights wash you in their cool heat as you walked for hours upon hours. You walked until your legs felt like jelly and your breath was coming out in short bursts; you walked until the orange hues of the sun tainted the dark night that had cloaked you for so long.

No one at the Burrow knew that you took such walks, and to be honest, you wanted to keep it that way. Your actions would only make them worry and try to reach out more, and as it was, you could hardly interact with them at all.  Every time you looked at the Weasley’s or your friends, your head couldn’t help but to fill with what-if’s. 

What if Harry hadn’t woken up? What if Ron had failed to dodge the killing curse? What if Hermione had decided to take on Nagini by herself? What if Mrs. Weasley hadn’t been able to kill Bellatrix? What if Fred had been unable to minimize the damage on the Confrigo curse?

They consumed you, those thoughts. They threatened to voice themselves every time you so much as glanced up at someone with red hair, so you kept to yourself. But while you sought solitude, everyone else sought comfort. Harry and Ginny were hardly apart from each other for long, hands clasped tightly at all times. They whispered in hushed voices in the corners of the rooms, strained smiles on their faces. At night, you could hear Ginny’s soft footsteps pass by your door as she headed to Harry’s room. 

Ron and Hermione were complicated. They were often engaged in fights that soon evolved into screaming matches; sometimes Hermione won, other times Ron did. In the end, it never really mattered who won. The two of them would make up by dinner, and sit next to each other with their hands intertwined underneath the table and terse smiles on their faces, knowing that tomorrow they would have the exact same fight.

If Fred and George were close before, they were nearly inseparable now. They had closed their joke shop for the time being, giving Fred time to heal after his brush with death, and were often found trying their best to keep the mood in the house light. They knew all too well the importance of humor in dark times.

Fred had changed though, and you knew that you weren’t the only one who’d noticed it. You’d caught him staring into the distance multiple times, eyes trained on something that no one else could see. His skin would pale, his hands would shake, and sometimes it would take him an agonizingly long time to pull himself out of whatever he was seeing. 

No one ever mentioned it. Instead, they chose to live in their blissful ignorance and show their support in ways that they were familiar with. They let him choose meals and take his seat first. They joked with him, let him choose the nights entertainment, never asked him to do any chores. They were walking on eggshells around him, and it was infuriating. 

You knew that you could never tell them that, though. You knew that if you did, the entire structure that the family had been clinging to for so long would topple without warning. So you bit your tongue and forced a smile; forced yourself to laugh along with them at one of George’s strained jokes, and forced yourself into complacency. 

And it had been working, until Fred had wandered outside and, subsequently, upon you leaning on the porch railing. 

It was dark out, still the early hours of the morning, and you had a mug of steaming coffee clasped in your hands like a lifeline. Hearing the front door open, you looked over at him, obviously startled before looking quickly away once more. “I didn’t know that anyone else was up,” you said quietly, taking a small sip of your coffee and wincing as it burned the tip of your tongue. 

He hesitated before replying, moving to sit on the rickety steps that connected the porch to the ground. “Neither did I,” he replied with a small smile, fiddling with a package in his hand as he looked out at the fields surrounding his home. 

You glanced over at him and nodded to his hands. “What are those?” you asked, doing your best to make conversation as the two of you were bathed in starlight. You hoped it wasn’t incredibly obvious that you were uncomfortable with him being outside with you. It felt like he was encroaching on your safe space, but you didn’t have the heart to kick him out. 

His hands stop flipping the package and he stilled for a moment before forcing a smile onto his face and opening it. He looked over at you as he pulled out a cigarette and placed it between his lips before taking a lighter out of his shirt pocket. “My secret to staying sane,” he replied, lighting the cigarette and placing the nearly empty container on the step next to him. 

You tried to force a smile, mouth turning up at the ends in a shaky gesture as your eyes shifted from staring past him to staring at the fields surrounding you, but after a minute you dropped it. You were so tired of pretending that everything was okay. That you were okay. A deafening silence fell over the two of you, and it fell heavily on your shoulders.

You used to be good at talking to people; before the war. You used to be able to start a conversation over the most mundane objects and let it foster a wary friendship. You were exceptional at it. And then the war happened. Now you didn’t know how to talk to anyone. Every conversation was strained and dense; filled with silences that neither you nor those that you were conversing with knew how to handle. 

You glanced over at Fred, flinching as your mind twisted the sight and forced you to see the deathly stillness you had come to know quite well in your nightmares. Closing your eyes, you turned your head away and took a drink for your mug. You were far too sober to be dealing with this right now. 

Fred took a drag of the cigarette, inhaling deeply before blowing out a puff of smoke, watching it curl and flip in the cold sky. “Why won’t you look at me?” he asked quietly, staring down at the cigarette that lay between his fingers before looking up at you. 

You stared out at the field, watching the fog lay over it like a loving blanket. Your coffee mug was resting comfortably in your hands, and you blew on it gently. “Because every time I do, I watch you die.”

You were never one to sugarcoat the truth, he knew that. Often you were even described as brutally honest. But it was no stretch to say that he had never expected you to say that. He hesitated in his reply, something you picked up on easily yet held your tongue about. “I didn’t die,” he replied, taking another drag. “No matter how much George wants to be one brother short of a twin, I can’t give him the satisfaction.” His lips curled up in a smile, and you knew that he was trying to diffuse the tense air around the two of you. 

“But you almost did,” you said calmly, lifting the mug to your lips and taking a sip. It was scary sometimes, how unbothered you were about things like this. It was like you weren’t properly feeling, and maybe you weren’t. Or maybe you were compartmentalizing, shoving what you didn’t need into the depths of your mind.

 “So did everyone else. We all took risks in the war, but we made it out,” he said with a shrug, turning his head to look out at the field as well. 

You took time with your response, turning the words over in your mouth and feeding them to yourself in a mental debate. You knew that once you said them, you would be opening the talk into something more, something bigger. Maybe...maybe that would be a good thing. “Then why does it feel like we never left?” you asked in a soft voice, eyes now trained on the coffee in your hands.

He paused, cigarette frozen inches from his lips. You could tell he was mulling over his answer as well; wondering if he should let you in or push you back beyond his walls. Eventually, he smiled, an expression that conveyed no joy and was paired with a bitter laugh. “I wish I fucking knew.” 

You accepted his answer, choosing not to pry or open up any further as the two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence. You listened to the birds chirp their wakeup call as the sun finally began to emerge from beyond the hills, and inwardly you knew that your time out here was limited now. Your friends were going to start waking up soon, and they would be concerned if they found you outside at this hour. Just as you were about to finish the rest of your coffee and leave, Fred spoke again. 

“Why were you out here?” he asked, eyes turning to catch yours as you finally looked over at him. You saw a flash of his body in the Great Hall, pale skinned and eerily quiet with his family standing over him and quickly looked away again. 

You debated lying to him. Telling him that you’d heard a noise and were unable to go back to sleep. But you were so tired of lying. You were tired of hiding flinches, of hiding the dark circles under your eyes, of hiding. Your fingers fidgeted with the bracelet you wore on your wrist, a reminder of your parents, of what you lost, and you sighed. “It’s hard for me to sleep, so I come out here instead. It’s . . peaceful. Quiet. It makes me feel safe.” 

Out of the corner of your eye you saw him nod in understanding while taking a final drag from his cigarette and dropping it onto the porch before stomping it out. “It’s the nightmares, right? They keep you up and take you back to the war.” 

You silently nodded your head, closing your eyes and pressing your hands up to your face as a sudden feeling of desperation welled up inside of you. “I haven’t slept in months,” you confessed softly. You squeezed your eyes shut, fighting against the slew of emotions that were suddenly surfacing after being pushed down and held back for so long. 

You could sense Fred hesitating, feel him cautiously stand up. You heard the soft creaking of the porch as he walked over to you, unsure of what to do and how to help. “Can I . . . can I hug you?” he asked gently, feet shuffling as he shifted his weight from side to side. 

Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, you nodded. “I just-” your voice broke and you cleared your throat. “I just want to know when I’m going to stop seeing everything. I can’t blink without seeing the school. Without seeing him. It’s like..,” you took another breath, your shoulders shaking and your eyes shining with unshed tears. “It’s like I’m always going to be back there. Watching people die. Unable to save any of them.” 

Fred wrapped his arms around you, resting his head on top of yours as the two of you faced the grassy hills that surrounded the Burrow. “Every time I close my eyes I wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t fired that counter curse.” 

Your hands dropped from your face slowly, reaching down to place a comforting hand on his arm to let him know that you were there for him as tears slipped silently down your face. 

“I can see it, you know. When they look at me. I can see it in their eyes. They’re all thinking the same thing that I am.” His fists clench and he grits his teeth, pain evident on his face as his mind takes him back to the final battle.  “If I had been a second slower...” he trailed off, eyes hardening. 

You could smell the smoke on him like this. It clung to him like a cloud, sticking to his clothes and enveloping you in its scent. It was, surprisingly, calming. And you could see why he had turned to smoking as a coping mechanism. 

Wordlessly you lifted one of his hands to your lips, pressing a soft kiss to his palm. “Thank you for not being a second slower,” you whispered, leaning your head back against his chest and savoring the feeling of being held. 

You knew that in a few short minutes you would have to move; to go back up to your room and pretend that you had gotten a restful nights sleep and that you were actually okay. But for now you were content to be here, in this moment. You were content to live in this point in time for a few more seconds and pretend that you weren’t terribly broken inside. You could allow yourself this, one thing. 

.

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[fangirlovestuff]

The Heart Wants What it Wants - Chris Evans x reader pt.3

a/n- Hey lovely people! hope you’re all doing great! I know i’ve said this is the last chapter, but I was thinking about making an epilouge of sorts from Chris’ perspective... anyone interested? if yes please tell me! italics are for thoughts/memories and bold italics is text messeges. Also you know the drill... summary is from pinterest. Hope you enjoy <3

part 2

Summary: You either say how you feel and fuck it up or say nothing and let it fuck you up instead.

Warnings: age gap, a little angst

It's been 10 months since the last time you saw him, at that bar. You tried to give up the habit of counting, but it was useless. You went on a couple dates, but it was a waste of time. You had almost resigned to your fate of being an old maid, married to your job.

Now, you were sitting in Scarlett's kitchen, munching on some chocolate chip cookies you'd just baked together. You never told Scarlett about Chris, about your… thing. How could you? You had no idea what would she say, how she would react. Would she tell you it's a good thing you weren't together? Would she tell you to move on? Or would she tell you something else, more positive? You didn’t know, and the thought was giving you a headache.

"Spill it," Scarlett said, sitting down next to you after she finished putting all the dishes in the sink. She picked up a cookie and took a bite, making an appreciative face. "You've been zoned out all day. What's going on?"

"Nothing," you finished your cookie and picked up another. You shrugged at Scarlett's inquisitive look.

"Alright, you leave me no choice." She got up, taking the plate of fresh cookies with her and backing away before you realized what she was doing. "No more cookies for you until you tell me what's wrong." She put the plate down on the counter and stood in front of it, her hands crossed on her chest.

"Noooo," you whined. You could just get up, but you were a little tired from hiding such a big portion of your thoughts from Scarlett. She was pretty much your mentor in everything else, what's the harm in telling her? It’s just one person who you trust and love.

"C'mon, keeping things in is never the answer," Scarlett urged you.

You had been distant all day. It was just one of these days you were deep in your head about love and life and whatnot. Scarlett deserved an explanation – it was one of the rare days you could spend together, given your often conflicting schedules. And honestly, you just wanted a hug, someone to comfort you and tell you it's all gonna be okay. You hoped Scarlett would do that and not something else, but you trusted her.

You sighed deeply. "I'm sorry for being distant," you started. "It's just… there's this guy. And well, he's wonderful really. I met him like two years ago." Scarlett was smart, so you needed to… compartmentalize, twist the facts a little. You wanted to share your own struggle with her, not Chris', especially because she knew him. "We hit it off, but it ended up not working out. And I just can't seem to leave him behind. I met him again some time ago, that's why I was distracted."

"Who was it? I don't remember you telling me about anyone special two years ago," Scarlett furrowed her brow.

"You don't know everything about me," you said in a mock-mysterious tone, smirking.

"So, what's stopping you from leaving him behind?"

"Well, I can't stop thinking about the what ifs. What if we would've been great together? What if he was the love of my life and I let him go?" you said, taking a sip of water.

"The love of your life are big words to describe someone. He must've had a pretty big-" she started smiling and you swatted her across the arm, nearly choking on your drink. If she knew who she was talking about, she DEFINITELY would've not said that.

"I was gonna say heart!" she sent you an innocent look and you gave her a "cut the bullshit" one. "Anyways," she continued, unbothered, "If you feel like that, why not just go back to him? Ask him for a second chance."

"It's not that easy," you smiled bitterly. "There was a pretty good reason why it didn't work."

She nodded her head at you, expecting you to elaborate. "Let's just say there were things we weren't willing to give up on for the sake of our relationship."

"Alright, go ahead, be mysterious," she smiled fondly. You knew that was her 'you're so young and innocent' smile, but you appreciated that she didn't voice the thought out loud and treated you overall seriously. "Look, maybe things changed. I still think you should ask him."

"Thanks," you got up and gave her a hug, reaching behind her for the plate of cookies and grabbing another one. She laughed when you released her to take a bite.

"What do you wanna watch?" she asked, bringing the plate with her as you both went to the living room, sitting down on the couch.

"Something really really sappy."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another night in the public eye, you thought bitterly as you eyed the roomful of strangers with fancy dresses and suits. Some of them actors and actresses, directors, creatives, and some of them there for media coverage. Ever since that night at the bar a year ago, you couldn't help but look at the industry with bitter criticism for taking your happiness away from you, in a sense.

You turned back to the conversation with a forced smile on your face.

"Oh no, I really don't think I'm gonna get it," Scarlett laughed and tucked her hair behind her ear gently. She was up for a 'best actress in a drama movie' tonight, and everyone but her was convinced she was going to win. Your eyes roamed around the room again, unable to stay interested in the polite small-talk. You took in the elegant décor of the room that was filling with familiar faces by the minute. Everyone was all smiles and polite interest; "oh, I heard you did that movie with…", "That's a beautiful dress!", "Who are you here with?" and similar questions were spoken abundantly throughout the room.

Your eyes stopped on the back of a suit jacket. At first you were just staring into space, not really focused on what you were seeing but rather listening to different conversations around you. But then the man wearing the suit moved a little, still talking to someone, but that shook you from your blank stare. You registered the black suit jacket filled up nicely with broad shoulders, moving your gaze to his neck and the back of his head, soft brown hair looking appealing to touch. He turned around, his profile now within your sight, and you felt your breath get caught in your throat. How didn't you recognize him?

You couldn’t resist – your gaze traveling over his features; his long lashes, bright eyes, flushed cheeks, beautiful lips, broad shoulders covered in a black tailored suit-jacket.

Shit, what am I doing? You averted your gaze quickly before he would notice you staring. He was talking to someone and he had a beautiful girl on his arm. Knowing Chris' track record, she could've easily been just a friend, but rationality has never been known to be a worthy adversary to jealousy. You took a sharp breath. The feeling panged through you, making your muscles clench, your body tensing up. You forcefully pushed him out of your mind, willing yourself to relax and be sensible. He's not yours, he never will be, whispered a thousand voices in your head. Shut up, you thought back.

You and Scarlett took your seats in one of the first rows. Chris was sitting somewhere behind you, and you could've sworn you felt his gaze travel across your neck, shoulders, back, but maybe that was just wishful thinking. Either way, his presence felt awfully prominent to you.

The night went by in a blur, award after award being handed out to people, some genuinely grateful and excited, some looking too smug for the occasion in your opinion. You tried to pay attention, but simply couldn't. Maybe you were tired, maybe the ceremony was just boring, but you just didn't have the willpower to stop your thoughts from wandering all over the place. Is Chris looking at me? Should I try to look back at him? Are we gonna talk tonight? What good would that do? Ok, focus on the ceremony… But maybe we still stand a chance? If we talk tonight, should I tell him I've changed my mind? That we should go for this no matter what? Maybe things changed, you remembered yours and Scarlett's conversation from a couple of months ago. No, that's just the boring ceremony talking, this industry is your life, you're gonna regret this. Or maybe you're not, maybe loving him will be better than anything else… Oh you've loved him this long and nothing's changed! Ugh, I mean being in a relationship! Maybe this time-

"And now, presenting the award for best actress in a drama movie…"

The conversation you were having with yourself in your head got cut off by the announcement for Scarlett's category. You abandoned your thoughts immediately, grabbing Scarlett's hand and squeezing it in encouragement. She smiled back at you, shaking her head. You raised her eyebrows at her, nodding playfully. You both giggled and she turned her head as the camera showing the nominees focused on her, waving a little.

"And this year's best actress in a drama movie is… Scarlett Johansson!" The crowd applauded and the camera focused on Scarlett once more, her face drawn into a huge shocked smile. She covers her mouth with her hands excitedly before hurriedly getting up, her dress swaying around her in elegant drips of fabric as she makes her way to receive her well-deserved award.

"Thank you!" Scarlett smiles from her place up on the stage, the award clutched tightly in her hands as she speaks into the microphone. "I honestly never believed I would win tonight, I had some amazing competition," she gestures at the other nominees and the crowd applauds once more. "I'd like to say a huge thank you to everyone who worked on this movie with me, you've made it such an incredible experience, and thank you to my family and my friends," you blew a kiss at her from your seat as the camera moved to show you, "for loving me and inspiring me. Have a wonderful night everyone!" she grinned once more and went behind the curtain to the side of the stage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night you were once again in an after party, but this time you dragged Scarlett along - "You won an award! You've gotta celebrate somehow!"

You were sitting in a relatively secluded table with Scarlett, drinking as people came to congratulate her on her win. She kept smiling at every single one of them, thanking them like they were the only ones who said it, and you really didn't know from where she has this amount of energy. If this would have been you instead of Scarlett, you probably would have snapped at some of them already. Hell, you were close to doing it anyway. Your as-of-late bitter attitude towards the film industry plus the fact you couldn't have a conversation alone with your friend for more than one minute before getting interrupted made you grumpy. You sulked as you took another sip of your drink.

In the sea of people coming to congratulate Scarlett, there was one you actually didn't mind seeing that much. Your head snapped up when you recognized his deep voice, "You deserve it, you really do," you tuned into the conversation.

"Thanks Chris," Scarlett smiled fondly at her former costar and he returned it. "This is-" she started to introduce you before she realized, "Oh wait, you've met before, right? At that party like five or six years ago?"

You didn't know if it was the light playing tricks on you but it seemed like Chris' cheeks flushed a little. "Yeah, I remember," he smiled and extended his hand, "great to re-meet you," he said as you shook his hand. "Yeah, you too," you smiled at him, thanking god you were both good actors and sober enough for this.

"God, you two looked so engrossed in conversation that I left earlier that night," Scarlett reminisced, "You looked like you'd take a while and I didn’t wanna spoil your fun," she chuckled.

"Yeah, it was a great conversation," he smiled politely.

Chris laughing at something you said, stroking his beard as he listened to you, talking about his family, talking about sports passionately. Chris' hands on your hips, yours against his chest, his mouth on your body, your tongues battling for dominance as you push his shirt up over his head. The memories of that night hit you like a truck. It took all your willpower to push them aside and send him a tight smile back.

"See you around," he nodded at the both of you and turned away. He started walking and you and Scarlett used the few seconds to talk between you. From the corner of your eye, you saw Chris turn back to sneak a look at you. You gulped as you were listening to Scarlett talking about whatever it was. Your heart fluttered in your chest because he turned back. You remembered the night at the bar, how he didn't turn back, how he left you feeling the worst you've felt in a long time. You didn't know if it was for the better or not, but Scarlett was right; something did change.

After a few minutes you excused yourself from the table and headed to the balcony for some fresh air. The party was at a fancy penthouse, so you allowed yourself to enjoy the privilege of the cool night air as you processed your thoughts. You gripped the railing with your hands as you thought it all over - you and Chris, the advice Scarlett gave you, that night at the bar. You felt like you were drowning; engulfed by silence but certainly not peaceful, trying to see the clear picture, your next move.

The silence was broken by the sound of footsteps behind you. You didn't move, thinking it was just someone who came out here to smoke and won't bother you. But they were getting closer, sand a pair of strong, familiar arms leaned on the railing next to you.

"Gonna throw me down?" you chuckled bitterly while you raised your eyes to meet his cool blue ones.

"Now why would I do that?" he smiled.

Flashes of sentences you said that day entered your mind, taking on a new meaning from his perspective - "I can't give up on my dream job, I should have given up on us… I don't want you, go away…"

"I don’t know, I figured the way things ended when we last saw each other you wouldn't be the biggest fan of me."

"It's okay. Not a wonderful apology but I'll take it."

You huffed, "I wasn't apologizing, just saying facts." You raised your eyebrow. "But I am really sorry," you sighed, "for everything."

"As I said, it's okay," he smiled.

You both remained quite for a while, standing next to each other looking at the lights below and the stars above, each lost in your own thoughts. After a few minutes you shivered slightly, the cold getting to you and making the exposed skin on your arms fill with goosebumps. You let out a shaky breath, wrapping your hands around yourself. Chris' gaze turned to you, hurriedly taking of his suit jacket and wrapping it around you.

"No, Chris it’s fine, really, you'll get cold without it," you tried to resist, but he wouldn't have it. His hands kept the jacket tight around you, and you could feel the warmth of his palms even through the material. The jacket was warm and smelled like Chris, but you knew it was nothing but a pale imitation.

Chris' look was stern. "Fine," you surrendered, adjusting the jacket around your shoulders.

"So, how've you been?" you asked after a couple of seconds.  

"In general? Good I guess. In regards to you? Broody."

You let out a chuckle. "I appreciate the honesty. If it makes you feel any better, I haven't exactly been a ray of sunshine either."

"Damn. The universe really did a number on us didn't it?" Chris smiled sadly, looking up at the moon.

"You believe in the power of the universe? Like, the power it has over us?" You ignored half of his statement.

"Well, I think however you look at it the universe has some form of power over humanity. We're like a pebble in its shoe." He raised his eyebrows at you.

"That annoying, huh? I feel like you may be overestimating the human race here."

He let out a small laugh. "Yeah, maybe. But no matter if you're looking at it from a religious, superstitious or scientific standpoint, the universe is factually enormous, way bigger than us, therefore has more effect on, well, everything."

"Yeah, I get your point. I was asking more about the preordained and stuff," you remarked.

"I don't really know where I stand on in that matter," Chris answered. A small silence followed before you answered.

"Well, to offer my two cents on it – we get dealt certain cards, whether it be by chance, God, our star chart or the freaking, I don't know, Flying Spaghetti Monster," you both chuckled, "so there are things that are beyond our understanding and our control. But we have choices, plenty of them."

"Sometimes it doesn’t feel like that," Chris sighed.

"Not all the choices are good ones."

You both got lost in your thoughts once more, the silence settling between you. You thought about how you couldn't make him have that choice. What if it doesn't work out and you just lost a lot of support for nothing? What if he doesn’t want you anymore? Maybe that's what changed.

"I love that about us," Chris sarcastically broke the silence. You sent him a quizzical look and he continued. "How we can talk about the meaning of the universe before we'd talk about what's actually bothering us."  

"Well, it is a very interesting conversation," you smiled sadly.

He sighed, his eyes closing, making his eyelashes flutter across his cheeks. "I can't stop thinking about it. Us." He looked up at you, making your breath hitch. "I just… whatever this is, it's gonna hunt me for the rest of my life if I don’t explore it the furthest I can."

"Curiosity killed the cat," you replied.

"But satisfaction brought it back," Chris quipped back. "Don't you feel the same way I do? Because if you don't, I'll leave it. We can never talk again if that's what you want. But I don't think you do."

"You don't know what I want," you replied softly, feeling the cracks in your heart pry open again.

"You’re right, I don't. But I know what I want. I want to take you out to dinner. I want to kiss you again, without feeling like I'm hurting you. I want to know you, no hesitation or forced boundaries. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. For years I've convinced myself it's wrong, that we would never work out. But it doesn't work out with anyone else either. If you'll have me, I don’t care what happens. I'm willing to take that risk. I'm willing to regret you for the rest of my life." His eyes bore into yours and your breath caught at the intensity of the moment, the raw emotion in his voice sending shivers down your spine.

"Chris, I…" you swallowed and licked your lips. "I couldn't stop thinking about you, about us, for a really long time now. And I don't think I would ever forgive myself if I continued to push you away." You stepped into his space, face moving up to meet his gaze. "I want this. Maybe even more than anything I've ever wanted. So screw them," you gestured to the roomful of people behind the balcony door, "because I'm tired of holding back."

"Then don't," Chris whispered softly. Your hands went up to cup his face as you brought your lips together. At first it was tentative, a touch of warm lips in the cold night air. Then his tongue was entering your mouth, kissing you like your mouth was air and he was a man drowning, the desperation evident in the way he was devouring you. He pulled you against him, his warmth enveloping you as one hand went to the small of your back and the other to cup the back of your head. You wrapped your hands around his neck, kissing him with passion only he could awaken. Your heart fluttered in your chest, you felt free.

You pulled away to breath, looking into his eyes. And it finally clicked; the answer you were looking for right there in front of you. Being in Chris' arms again felt like coming home. Your heart finally felt healed. How could you have thought you were able to let this man go? The pure truth ringed in your brain – I love him. And you couldn't say it yet, because it would sound ridiculous. But something in you knew. Instead you opted for something more casual.

"Let's get outta here," you said and pecked his lips.

"Oh no, we're doing this right." He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, which was still on you, and took out his phone. "Here, gimmie your number," he murmured against your cheek and pulled away, extending his phone to you. You typed in your number, an amused smile on your face, and returned the phone to him.

"So?" you asked.

"So, we get back in, which by the way, it's a miracle no one has seen us yet."

You giggled at that, "Guess the universe is on our side after all?"

"Maybe," Chris smiled. "Anyway, we get back inside, and tomorrow I'm gonna call you and then take you on an actual date. How does that sound?"

"Sounds perfect," you grinned and pecked his cheek. "Here, take your jacket back," you handed it to him. He took it back and put it on, taking your hand and squeezing it once before going back inside. You stayed outside for a couple of seconds, making sure you look respectable before following him back inside.

Later that night you were already home, drying off your hair from your shower when you heard your phone buzz with a text. It was an unknown number.

"See you tomorrow, goodnight

-CE"

You smiled and saved his number before texting him goodnight back.

That night you fell asleep with a smile on your face. No matter what happens next, you'll have him by your side, and that's more than enough.

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[honestgrins]

Due Diligence || Klaroline

Caroline loves her job as Esther Mikaelson's executive assistant, and she is a damn good one. The next generation of Mikaelsons, however, make things more difficult than necessary.

.

Caroline strode down the sidewalk, easily balancing a tray of coffees as she dodged fellow pedestrians crowding her morning commute. She usually managed to avoid the rush by getting to work by 6:00, but Esther had allowed her a couple hours to see her mother off to the airport. Unfortunately, that left her fighting rush hour. Her focused expression seemed to clear a path for her, however, all the way to her destination. "Good morning, Andrew!"

The doorman greeted her with a wide smile, happy to accept the cappuccino she passed him. "Good morning to you, Miss Forbes. Before you head upstairs, you should know that Mrs. Mikaelson's children are still on the premises."

"Thanks for the heads up," she sighed, wincing. Family breakfasts were an occupational hazard when Caroline had to work from Esther's penthouse, and she would rather not incur the wrath of the younger generation by interrupting. A schedule was a schedule, though, and she wouldn't let Rebekah's sneers or Elijah's condescension change that. "How many?"

Andrew gave a sympathetic nod. "All of them."

Her eyes bugged slightly in surprise, though she tried to smile through it as she made her way to the elevators. She passed the operator a latte. "Hi, Reggie. I hear it's a full house."

"You heard right, Miss, and they're in fine form today," the old man warned. "If you don't mind me saying so."

"Never," she promised, having bought thousands of coffees for the staff over the years for exactly this reason. "Your secrets are safe with me." He tipped his cup to her before keying in the penthouse code, and they settled in for the long ride up. "I don't suppose you heard what has the family so riled?"

Shrugging, Reggie didn't seem too confident. "It was really tense, what with all five of them squeezed in here with me. They were snapping more than usual."

Caroline sighed, wishing she could lift out her own caffeine boost without upsetting the tray. The Mikaelson children were a viper's nest on a good day. There were only two topics that could make it worse: money or positioning within the company. She was a damn good executive assistant, and Mikaelson Industries only ran as smoothly as it did because of what she did for Esther; should the matriarch decide to retire, though, it would take a hell of a raise to keep her, too. Putting one of them in charge would only throw the family into chaos, and she had no desire to watch that happen - let alone to be at their competing beck and call.

Like a death knell for her sanity, the elevator bell rang upon reaching the top floor. "Wish me luck," she joked as Reggie waved her off. Slipping off to the kitchen, she set down the remaining coffees and her tote on the counter, digging out the heels she'd planned to wear for the day.

"Oh, Caroline," a familiar voice clucked from the other doorway, "those tennies do not go with that outfit."

With as polite a smile as she could manage, Caroline quickly swapped out her sneakers and tucked them back into her bag. "Hello, Rebekah. Some of us take the subway on occasion, and even all of my pageant training wouldn't be enough to make that bearable in pumps." As soon as her hands were free, she grabbed her iced triple espresso and took a very unladylike gulp. "I assume breakfast is still going on, so I'll just sneak back to the office." 

Mrs. Pearson, the housekeeper, entered the kitchen bearing a stack of dishes. Caroline lifted the last cup toward her and smiled, tossing the tray in the recycling bin. But before she could make her escape, Rebekah laced her arm through Caroline's, putting the other girl on instant alert. "Nonsense, you should join us. Nik has finally graced us with his presence, and I know he'd be thrilled to see you." 

She really didn't need the perfectly manicured nails pressed into her arm to remind her just how dangerous Rebekah Mikaelson could be - and yet.

They all but marched down to the formal dining room, Rebekah maneuvering her to enter first. "Look who finally decided to show up," she announced cheerily. "Remind me, Caroline, what do we pay you for?"

Biting back every retort she'd ever rehearsed to her bathroom mirror, she gave a friendly grin. The plastic of her cup bowed under her clenched grip, but her face was pleasant enough. "Good morning, everyone. Just wanted to say hello before catching up on the office."

Esther sipped her tea, seemingly unbothered by the interruption. "Caroline, I trust your mother is safely delivered to the airport."

"Yes, thank you." She had to fight back a strange urge to curtsey, despite years of being used to the courtly accent and rigid manners. Mindful of the other, less trustworthy ears trained on her to hunt for personal weakness, she figured it safest to focus on work. "I've been monitoring your correspondence on the way over here, everything seems to be progressing as normal."

Taking her seat next to a sprawled out Kol, Rebekah leaned forward like she had a juicy secret to share. "Caroline takes the subway, you know."

"Many people do," Elijah pointed out from behind his open newspaper. "It's hardly our business how Miss Forbes travels to work, especially during peak hours." She almost felt vindicated from the usually cold chief financial officer, only for him to pointedly check his watch. "I suppose she's to be commended in making good time despite the late hour."

"Indeed." Finn stirred his tea with a grating scrape of the spoon, and Caroline could feel the individual muscles of her jaw clench at the sound. 

Kol, meanwhile, appeared utterly pleased at the awkward moment. "A clever rejoinder as always, brother," he teased before turning toward her. "You look lovely as always, darling. Doesn't she look lovely, Nik?"

The air might have been sucked from the room with how she could only hear the blood rushing in her ears. She nodded toward the last pair of curious eyes, forcing a quick smile. "Klaus, what a nice surprise. Welcome home." His attention burned along her skin as she glanced away, nodding to Esther. "I'll be in the office when you're ready. The new publishing acquisition is on standby for streamlining operations, and Alaric has asked for a half hour to go over broad legal strategy against the Lockwood startup."

Finn frowned in that stony way of his. "Why am I not in for that, Mother?"

"Because Alaric is better on the offensive, dear," Esther replied. "Thank you, Caroline, pencil Alaric in after lunch with Richard Lockwood. We should have a better grasp of his company's intentions once I actually meet the man."

"Done." With a final nod, Caroline did her best to escape without hurrying, but she knew it couldn't be that simple. Just as she stepped into the office, a warm hand grasped her elbow. "Klaus-"

"You're not happy to see me." 

Her eyes closed at the uncertain flirt in his voice, a small smile turning her lips anyway at the memories it conjured. "I'm...surprised. I thought your grand hotelier plans were going to keep you in Europe for the year."

Klaus tugged lightly on the end of her ponytail, smirking at the way her whole face opened up in affront. "Surely, someone so intimately familiar with the Mikaelson brand knows I can afford a plane ticket or two," he joked. "You've been ignoring my calls. I find I don't like that."

Pushing on with her usual routine of a work day, Caroline busied her hands with computers and folders. Still, she felt him watching and couldn't make herself ignore it; the blush was warm on her cheeks. "It was a one-time thing, Klaus. We agreed."

"You said it, I didn't argue. I figured you would allow me the opportunity to properly woo you," he tempted, sitting in the chair across from her desk even as she fled to Esther's inner office. His volume just increased so she could hear him. "Hence the phone calls, sweetheart."

Caroline leaned over the antique desk, hands planted firmly on the agenda she'd been laying out. Relieved he hadn't followed her in, she took a deep breath, at a loss for how she ended up having a mind-blowing, one-night stand with her boss's son. Worse, she wasn't all that sure she wanted it to stay at one night, either. "You don't want to date me, Klaus."

His laugh was warm and immediate. "Funny, I think that's exactly what I want to do. In fact, I have a reservation tonight at your favorite sushi restaurant for just that purpose."

"My favorite sushi place?" 

"Mrs. Pearson is an exceptional hostess, love, and she's always had a bit of a soft spot for me. She was a font of information on your takeaway selections."

She scowled, knowing full well he couldn't see her. "Well, that's just cheating."

"Perhaps, but I have no regrets."

With a scoff, she stepped back out into her space and found him looking at the framed photos littering her desk. "Seriously," she said, snatching one of her dad with a baby Caroline from his hands, "I work sixteen hours a day more often than not, I know everything about your mom, and even I'm not that good at compartmentalizing to handle dating her son. You don't want to date me."

Frowning, his hands steepled under his chin. "Because my mother would complicate things?"

"Because you get some thrill out of seducing your mother's executive assistant," she sadly accused. "Congrats, you did it, and we had a great time. Why can't you leave it at that?"

Any levity in his expression drained in a second as he considered her words. "Why are you so adamant we have to leave it at that?"

Caroline blinked, taken off guard at his plaintive tone. "I- How would you see this going? I feed Esther small talk hints at galas with you trailing after us? You fly me out to France or Japan for the weekend, only for me to take the fanciest walk of shame from the airport to her office?"

"You'd be ashamed to date me," he realized, his jaw tense.

Something bristled along her spine like a warning, and it scared her. "Well, no, but-"

His eyebrows rose, the smug playboy who'd seduced her over late night market reports and art history replaced by an earnest, lonely man. "I like you, Caroline," he said, his voice painfully honest. "And I'd like to see more of you, on your terms. You're right, it might take work to finesse the details. I'm willing to put in that work...if you are."

She licked her lips, her fingers fidgeting over her daily planner. "I, well," she sighed, suddenly winded. "This is real?"

And his smug smirk returned as he reached for her shaky hands, covering them with his own. "Sushi, eight-thirty." When she opened her mouth to protest, his smirk widened until she saw dimples. "Mother promised Rebekah over breakfast to finish work early tonight, something about an emergency spa appointment. I doubt she'll keep you past seven."

A part of her wanted to make her own emergency spa appointment for a surprise first date, but she did appreciate the consideration for her schedule. "Still doesn't leave me much time to spruce up," she said, fighting a smile at how his whole face brightened for what sounded like a 'yes.' "Don't you want me to look pretty?"

Like he couldn't hold himself back anymore, Klaus stood from his seat and leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. "You're beautiful, love. I'll see you tonight."

As he turned to leave, her stomach gave a giddy leap. She didn't want that feeling to end. "Did you really find out my favorite place from Mrs. Pearson?"

Esther and Finn's voices floated in from the hallway, and he kept his own low. "I suppose we'll find out, won't we?" With a final wink, he strode out of the office, leaving her a puddle of anticipation despite needing to work a twice-shortened day for his mother. 

"Of course he did," she muttered to herself, not quite able to be angry about it. Maybe testing the boundaries of their relationship would be more fun than she had feared. She really couldn't wait to find out.