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andcurioser · 5 years

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So. Let’s talk about Veronica Mars. *deeeeeeeep sigh*

Ok, friends. It’s been a goddamn whirlwind for me. I actually went to the Veronica Mars panel at Comic Con, which I thought was a highlight at the time. They screened the first episode before the panel, and I was all ready to report back to you all that it was real good and to get excited for the new season, but then Hulu had to go and drop the whole damn series during the CC panel, which was a STUPID thing to do (or, at the very least, an extremely stupid thing to announce to the panel at Comic Con - the exact people who would not be able to watch it until after Comic Con, putting them at risk for some really big fucking spoilers. It’s genuinely surprising to me how little the people who are in charge think about these things. If you want to do a surprise drop (which, why, but whatever), sure, go and do it, but definitely don’t announce it to a room full of people who can’t enjoy it and expect them to be excited??). But regardless. That was just a wtf moment. I was still filled with enthusiasm and excitement and happiness that this show was back and seemed to be in good form.

Oy.

Cut to Tuesday morning. I got back from Comic Con on Sunday night, and life goes on, so of course I hadn’t watched 8 hours of TV by Tuesday at 7AM. Which is precisely when my dear friend, whom I adore, but who is apparently an idiot, texted me about how terrible that VM ending was and how upset she was. Now, because I’m a good friend and I know what she likes and we’ve discussed VM at length, it took me all of four seconds to know the gist of what happens in the end. I didn’t know the how or why, but I certainly knew the what. Cue fun spikes of anxiety and random bursts of rage, because what the fuck. Truly, what the fuck. But I placed my certainty at 99% and hopelessly clung to the 1% chance that I was wrong, knowing full well that I wasn’t. This obviously completely stymied any excitement I had for the show, and I dragged my heels for a full month before finally finishing the goddamn show just to get it over with. And now we’re here.

I’ve had a month to ready myself for what I knew was coming. It was both a blessing and a curse, since while it pretty thoroughly ruined my good time, it also meant that I wasn’t totally blindsided by that ending. And man, I would have been blindsided, because there was Z E R O reason for that. None. And now I’ve read all the articles in which Rob Thomas tries to explain his reasons, and they’re all nonsense. Absolute idiocy. All I see is a guy who always, always resented the fans for loving a character he didn’t want us to, who tried and tried to redirect us to one of his preferred creations without success, and just when I thought he’d finally accepted defeat, he pulls the most nonsensical of fuckery just to finally win the battle. Fuck you, RT, forever and always. I can’t fucking believe that I allowed myself to think you’d finally seen the light. What a ridiculous fool I was for giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Since I knew what was coming, I could look for the signs all throughout the season. So I searched for foreshadowing, or at least a narrative through-line. And let me tell you: there isn’t one. The season finally, rightfully seems to address Veronica’s deep-set trauma and trust issues but treats them like a problem and not a secret superpower, and it seemed like the show might expect Veronica to grow up along with the viewers who’ve aged 15 years since the first season? I was excited to finally have Veronica be the problem in a relationship, frankly. It was hinted at with Piz, but glossed over because there was only so much time in the movie, but it was realistic for her to have some trouble adjusting to a long-term, committed relationship, and I was excited to see that journey! I thought it was such an interesting path to go down, watching Veronica grapple with what she wants (or maybe just thinks she wants) vs. what she’s always known, or thought she knows. Lots of stuff there! Good stuff! And you get all the way to the end, when she’s finally decided to try. It isn’t fixed, it isn’t perfectly, she’s definitely got a long way to go, but she’s taken a few tentative steps into an uncertain future. And all of a sudden, quite literally, boom. It’s all gone.

Listen. I was never going to be a fan of getting rid of Logan. However they chose to do it, it would always feel wrong. I have never trusted Rob Thomas to handle Logan well, because he’s always had this undercurrent of anger in every interview I’ve read, this frustration that people love and respond to Logan when he wanted them to love Duncan! Then Piz! Then anyone else! His creations took on a life of their own, and RT hated it. RT was one of the ultimate examples of writers/show runners who were simply watching a completely different show than the rest of us. I could never understand how he wrote such interesting stuff for Logan but didn’t want us to root for him. It never made any sense. But I didn’t think he would sabotage his own show this thoroughly.

Because here’s the thing: I was never going to like him getting rid of Logan, but I could have understood it. I could have gone along with it if it had been done right. Frankly, the way it was building, it wouldn’t have been a surprise, nor would it even have been a bad choice, to have Logan break up with Veronica at the end of the season. And if RT couldn’t handle Veronica not being the aggressor, fine, make Veronica do it. She decides she isn’t willing to put in the work to change that Logan needs from her, and she ends it. Fine. Could work, at least for a few seasons. Let her deal with the loss, knowing it was something she chose, and see how it affects her priorities as she continues on. Certainly could be interesting!

You know what isn’t interesting? This. This is the only - the ONLY - plotline that’s a watered down repeat of a previous story. Veronica Mars, traumatized and hardened by the shocking loss of someone close to her? Quite literally, been there, done that. I know RT has been trying to recapture the magic of season one for every season and iteration since, but just repeating the storyline? Really, really missing the mark. There isn’t anything new that can be added to this. We’ve done this. This will only ever be a pale imitation, a tacked-on sequel hitting the same beats with less force. Lilly was a fantastic inciting incident that yielded a tight, well-thought-out season arc. But why would we want to start over 15 years later? What’s to be gained from this? Literally ANY other ending would have yielded multiple storytelling options, branching out with so many possibilities on where the characters could go. This is the only one that simply slams doors shut.

The few supporters of this ending I’ve seen around the interwebs keep saying things like “this show wouldn’t work if Veronica was happy!” Hell, Rob Thomas is saying the same thing. And to that idiocy, I can only say 1. of course it would, if you write it well, dumbass, and 2. if you think Veronica getting married immediately = happiness, well, what the hell show were you watching? The marriage, much as it could represent a step forward, was still VERY CLEARLY a huge, impulsive jump that was more a reaction than a measured decision. And that was something I was looking forward to seeing. Fresh off of a near-death experience and a renewed assurance of her love for Logan, Veronica marries him thinking that’s the end of their troubles, only to realize that it’s just another complication. Now Veronica has to deal with the new experience of having no quick exit strategy. All the problems they had throughout the season still exist, thinly covered by the veil of newlywed bliss, and she has to reconcile her happiness with her frustration and uncertainty. Logan still disappears at the drop of a hat because of his job. She still puts herself in danger for the case and uses loved ones and acquaintances alike to her full advantage. They hide things from each other. They love fiercely, they trust the other with their own lives but can’t trust each other to take care of themselves. Doesn’t this sound like a complicated, tumultuous relationship full of narrative possibilities?

Well, forget it, because why break new ground when you could retread old storylines? Yeah, that’s what we all want. Great job, RT. So smart.

Something that keeps bothering me is that if RT didn’t want Logan around as the happy husband at home but didn’t want to write more relationship drama between them? He already had the perfect excuse to ship Logan off for entire seasons at a time. Look, Logan’s deployed, oh no, he can’t even skype, he’s undercover! Cool, problem solved. No more Logan, but in a way that still maintains possibilities for the future should we want them. Ideal. Again, options. All you want are places for your narrative to go. Multiple roads it could take so it doesn’t become predictable.

This is predictable. This is boring. This is trite. Our heroes, struck down in their highest moment of happiness. Holy fuck, it’s dull. It doesn’t feel edgy. It feels derivative, a tired rehash of a narrative structure that should have gone out of vogue ten years ago. The whole thing just exhausts me at this point.

And I’ve read Rob Thomas’s justification for why he did it. They’re all flimsy, but if he wants to go do a Sherlock-style, Ms. Marple mystery series, flitting in and out as he pleases, fine. It won’t be the worst show in the world. Veronica’s still a fun and interesting character, and I’ll always enjoy watching her. But removing her from Neptune, and more importantly, removing her from all of her meaningful relationships, takes away what made this show special. The new version RT is pitching could be fun enough. But it’ll still be just one in a long, long line of mystery shows that don’t have much claim to my emotional investment. I might watch, but I’ll forget about it the second it’s over. It certainly won’t be the kind of show with a fanbase that will still be interested in watching more 15 years from now. Rob Thomas won’t be getting one of those again.

So yeah, that’s that. I have much more to say, but really I just wanted to get this rant out so I can put it all behind me. I learned long ago that I can’t trust shows and showrunners, and it’s a lesson I learned partly, if significantly, from Rob Thomas. I suppose it’s on me for letting my guard down, but I guess my hope got grandfathered in from an age when I didn’t immediately mistrust the things that were supposed to make me happy. I’ll know better next time.

#veronica mars #veronica mars spoilers #just in case #so i'll just be here selectively ignoring canon because frankly i know better #the ending was so stupid and tacked on that it's honestly pretty easy to ignore #mostly i'm just fired up about a showrunner mistreating his fanbase so badly after they've stuck with him through so much #just a baffling misuse of the support he was so lucky to still have #so i'll be cherry-picking the parts of s4 i liked with one hand and flipping rob thomas off forever with the other

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omgviolette12 · 5 years

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After hours - Chapter 3 A professor Loki Fanfic

Previous Chapter

Summary: Evelyn Monroe has been a TA for professor Laufeyson’s Calculus course for four months now. He was known to be quite strict, but that never deterred her from applying for the position in order to be close to the man she had been secretly pining for. One evening, she returns to his office after opening hours… and with her bountiful luck, she walks in on something not meant to be seen.

Chapters: 3/?

Words: 2178

Tags: @milkymaidme @dangertoozmanykids101 @alexakeyloveloki @little-moonbeam-666 @marvel-ous-fics @clovermariear @lynnesm

If you’d like to be added, let me know. I’ve also posted this on AO3

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“...I am unsure as to why you are prostrating in front of my door, but perhaps we could discuss matters... inside?”

With every fiber of her being, Evelyn desperately wanted to get up and hightail it down the hallway. But she remained glued to the floor, staring squarely at the two imposing feet in front of her. Cold sweat began to form at the base of her back, and she feared her heart was about to burst out of her chest with the way it was beating.

Evelyn cursed her luck. Why did he decide to leave his office now?

She shot up clumsily to her feet, nearly bucking her already injured nose against his hard chest. Thankfully, he stepped back before she did.

Evelyn adjusted her dress, dusting off imaginary dirt as she clutched the letter in a tight grip.

She then proceeded to enter his office with hesitant, stiff steps, avoiding his gaze with a lowered head.

She could hear him sigh audibly, shutting the door behind him before moving around her to sit behind his desk.

An awkward silence descended upon the room, alongside a tension so thick she could cut it with a knife.

Evelyn remained standing, hands clammy with sweat as she looked at anything but Professor Laufeyson. It was as if suddenly, the vintage furniture in his office became immensely interesting. The green wallpaper had a pretty pattern to it as well-

The clearing of his throat breached the silence, then the sound of his voice reverberated throughout the room, “Would you please just...sit? You aren’t a stranger, Miss Monroe.”

She looked up briefly at the chair situated in front of his desk. Almost instantly, distracting images of professor Laufeyson and that woman began to flit quickly inside her mind’s eye. Naked and panting, the tangible smell of sex, their unified moans -

“No. I’m good. I’m not staying long anyway.” Her reply came out much harsher and clipped than intended, but she honestly didn’t want to sit near a desk where another female had just gotten her back blown out by her professor.

Professor Laufeyson merely sighed at her answer, and she took it as him conceding to her stance. But she was wrong.

“Evelyn. Look at me.”

The severity of his voice commanded such strong obedience from Evelyn, that she all but snapped her head up to attention - her wide, hazel eyes instantly meeting the cold, blue ones of her professor.

“ I insist that you sit. I would like to speak with you, face to face, as an adult.”

Slightly scared of what would happen if she didn’t, she obliged his request. Although, she made sure the chair was a comfortable distance away from the desk - which was a pretty wide margin.

If he was hurt by the way she scorned him, he didn’t show it. Instead, he met her gaze head on - not one flicker of embarrassment or shame in sight. Whatever terror or humiliation she saw in his eyes that night, seemed like an illusion.

“… First, I would like to explain-”

“I’m not telling anyone.” Evelyn cut him off abruptly, catching both herself and her professor off guard.

“ I-I mean, I told my sis, but she doesn’t go here, and um, uh, my momma ain’t raise no snitch, so please don’t worry about anyone else finding out. Because it’s none of my business. Zip Zip. Quiet as a mouse.”

Evelyn had the bad habit of babbling when she was nervous, and she seriously wished her mouth didn’t exist at that moment. However, it continued to have a life of its own as her words shot out rapidly, barely giving her professor a chance to speak.

“Evelyn, listen to-”

“ - And I came to...to tell you I can’t be your TA anymore. I uh...wrote a letter. I’ll accept an incomplete grade or something. I’ll try to talk about it with my...um... adviser...so yeah.”

Without another word, Evelyn got up from her chair to head straight for the door. If she stayed for another moment, she feared she would die from sheer, overwhelming embarrassment. It’s like all coherent thought fled from her whenever she was in the presence of this man.

She barely managed to open the door when it was shut back roughly with a loud bang!

Evelyn stood still in shock as the scent of her professor overwhelmed her senses - one large hand beside her head kept the door firmly shut, as his breath fanned against her neck.

Ho..holy crapping shit!

“I said listen to me, for God’s sake woman!”

Although his voice remained stern, she could hear a bit of pleading to it as well.

Evelyn couldn’t trust her voice to speak anyway, so she remained silent - hands pressed against her chest in a defensive posture.

He’s so close, he’s so close, holy...please back the heck up!

She was practically hyperventilating at this point, and she was pretty sure she was about to faint.

“Evelyn? Evelyn, please...look at me.”

He turned her around by the shoulder, and he could see that her brown skin was flushed red, sweat forming at the brows.

She was now facing his chest. He smelled really, really good, and when she looked up...his sharp blue eyes laced with concern bore into her being.

Evelyn had never, ever been this close to a man before. Much less one she liked. She never cared for a relationship and preferred to focus on her education. But now...her lack of experience was really biting her in the ass.

Yep. Definitely going to faint. Fuck my life.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, before she was met with darkness.

_____________

The first thing Evelyn felt, was pure warmth. She felt so comfortable and at peace, that she didn't want to move. Or wake up.

She nuzzled her face further into this warmth, as a soothing caress went up and down her back, then alongside her waist. It felt really good, and Evelyn was pretty much a melted puddle of goodness at this point.

The tantalizing scent of her professor filled her nostrils - sandalwood, lavender, whatever the hell it was that men wore these days lulled Evelyn deeper into -

Wait...wait a minute…

…. professor?

Evelyn's eyes shot open as her sleep-addled mind began to gain awareness.

Two long, strong arms trapped her in an embrace, as she slept comfortably on the lap of professor Laufeyson.

Her face had been burrowed into his neck, and he had a possessive grip on her hip and arm as he caressed both idly.

What..what in the ducking fuck is goin' on??!

Evelyn was freaking out mentally at this point, but she was too scared to move. She had fainted, which was embarrassing enough. But how in the world did she end up in her professor's lap of all places?

They were still within the confines of his office from what she could see, and that he had settled them on the couch that was in the far corner of the room.

It was rarely used, however, and she recalled having to dust it off on multiple occasions. It was taking up space, and she always wondered why he even bothered to keep it there.

Well...it obviously came in handy now.

But she was confused as to why he didn't just leave her on the couch until she woke up, and took to holding her instead.

She could no longer ponder over it however, as the deep rumbling of her professor's voice through his chest startled the wits right out of her.

" Since you are awake...perhaps we could now continue our conversation?"

Evelyn merely let out a high pitched 'mhmm!'

At the moment, she couldn’t even speak if she wanted to. If her anxiety was bad before, it shot up several more levels.

All she could think about was the fact that she was actually sitting in his lap. And that he was touching her. It was a wonder she hadn’t fainted again. Her dress had also ridden up quite a bit because of the way he was touching her, but she didn’t want to draw attention to that area by adjusting it.

He exhaled above her, continuing his soothing ministrations against her hip and shoulder, " I...I apologize for startling you. If I had known you were so...weak hearted, I would not have done that. But I couldn't just watch you leave when I hadn't even begun to speak my part."

His tone had shifted drastically from the stern, cold professor she had become used to. It was calming...and gentle. And gentle was never a word she thought could be attached to this man. Well, the more you know…

"That night… I didn't expect for anyone, least of all you, to be there. I was sure the door was locked, but I was sorely mistaken. I… I apologize sincerely for what you had to see, and for how I treated you. It is no excuse, but I was quite panicked."

So...it hadn't been a trick of the eyes. He was just as embarrassed about it as I was. But…

"Who...who was she?" Evelyn blurted out the first thing that came to mind, and once again wished she could bite off her own tongue.

She felt him stiffen significantly against her, before he gave a cool, distant reply, " I'm afraid that isn't any of your business. You have no need to concern yourself with her."

The words left her mouth before she could stop herself, " But..but she looked really familiar. She was around my skin tone, had a similar hairstyle, and she was around my… my...height…"

Those were… a lot of my's...

Now that Evelyn thought about it...the only reason she entered his office was that she thought she heard her name. Very clearly.

She was a bit on the slow side when it came to these things, so it took a while before she could put two and two together.

Wait...no, that couldn't be. I'm definitely tripping. Am I overthinking shit? She...was she? -

"Perhaps it is time for you to head home."

He shifted her off his lap quite suddenly, and she was ashamed to say she was getting quite aroused comfortable sitting there.

She watched him with wide eyes as he got up, and began to take his long overcoat from the hanger, “You were out for approximately half an hour, and it has gotten quite late. I will take you home.”

Evelyn knew if she pursued the question, he’d most likely get irritated with her. But she couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility...

“Uh...but is she a student here? Or.. or…”

“ Evelyn.”

He turned around to look at her, his eyes glacier, “I will not repeat myself.”

Well yikes… okay then…

Seeing her expression, he sighed in resignation, “No, she is not a student. Please leave it at that.”

Evelyn got up silently from the couch, picking up her cardigan before slipping on her flats, “Yeah… um...sorry. I don’t live far from campus, so I can just walk-”

“When I said that I would take you home, it wasn’t a question.”

He opened the door, waiting for her to step out. “After you.”

The drive back in his car had been mostly silent so far, and Evelyn had no intention of breaking it. She was drained both physically and mentally, and she was glad she had no classes the next day.

But she could see from her periphery that he stole glances at her from time to time, like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

It wasn’t often that her professor was lost for words, so she was curious as to what he wanted to say. Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long, “...I understand if your decision is solidified, regarding being my TA. However...I would be extremely grateful if you were to remain. I… I value your presence.”

Evelyn looked back at him hesitantly, “But...I thought I was doing badly anyway...that’s why I got you that cake, since I felt terrible about it.”

At the mention of the cake, her professor surprised her with a warm chuckle, “Regardless of the circumstances, I appreciate the thought very much. On that note, TAs do not have midterm evals usually- I had just wanted to scare you into attending meetings more consistently.”

Evelyn was baffled for multiple reasons - First, was that he chuckled. And second, was that he basically lied to her so she could come by more often.

Don’t let it get to your head...he definitely isn’t interested. I’m his student, he was just looking out for me, like always.

But then... why would he use my name that night? And that lady was practically my twin…

Long after he had dropped her home, and she had settled beneath the covers of her bed, thoughts along those lines continued to plague her mind.

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A/N: Please, do not hesitate to let me know what you think! It feeds into my drive~

#loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki fic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fic #loki (marvel)#Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #loki smut #marvel fanfiction #Tom Hiddleston fandom #Loki Fandom

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theonetruenorth · 6 years

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How much the heart can hold

With a day or two of delay, but this is the fic I wrote for @magnusandalexander as a part of Malec Secret Santa exchange. Only now with a little bit of an extra photoset.

I know it got a little bit bittersweet there in the end, but I hope you enjoyed your gift, darling.

Beta-read by RomanceShipper

(CLICK ‘KEEP READING’ FOR THE REST OF THE FIC.)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Nobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold.”

― Zelda Fitzgerald

The invitation came in his regular mail at the beginning of November.

Magnus lounged on the daybed on his terrace, flipping lazily through the stack of mail he had gathered from his mailbox that morning. The air of New York had just turned chilly, fall slowly giving into winter and it really should be too cold to laze around outside, but Magnus had fixed that little problem long time ago. The outside battle wards that covered the entire building also contained small, inner ward that wrapped around his terrace and balcony, providing a bubble of warmth for those within it.

The carefully controlled temperature was also something that his horde of cats preferred, as evident by the animated group gathered around Alec, doing their best to weave around his legs as the poor man tried to feed them. Magnus smirked in amusement as his boyfriend almost tripped over Barrack Opawma, only to perform the less than dignified don’t-step-on-a-cat’s-tail dance when Whisker Purrchill wrapped around his shins. Magnus reached towards Chairman Meow - who was politely curled into a ball in his lap, refusing to join the writhing mass of fur and claws, as if such behaviour was beneath him - and scratched behind his favorite’s ear.

His gaze returned to the envelope in his hand. The paper was of a great quality, heavy to touch and in color of dark chocolate with a gold filigree design printed on top. It was addressed by hand in an elegant cursive of golden ink, the letters evenly spaced and flowing smoothly. Magnus had a pretty good idea what was inside. He had completely forgotten about it, in light of everything that had happened in the past few months - like the missing Soul Sword, the almost-war, the near break-up with Alec... and oh yes, of course, the raising of Raziel. It was a hectic time and all thoughts of entertainment were pushed on a back burner, to be returned to when they finally had time to rest. But now that Valentine was gone…

He startled a little bit when Alec suddenly plopped down on the daybed next to him, covered in cat fur and a couple scratches from where he was not fast enough to escape the overexcited cats. Magnus scrunched up his nose a little and waved a hand in a vague, careless gesture and got rid of the fur.

“President Frump is going to be the death of me,” Alec muttered as he laid down and tucked himself underneath Magnus’ arm, all six feet of him. “He almost bit my hand off because I fed Vladimir Purrin first.”

“That’s what you get for getting in between the US and Russia, my dear,” Magnus answered with a laugh.

“Have I told you already that you are not allowed to name your cats anymore?” He grinned when Magnus gave a long-suffering sigh before he noticed the envelope in Magnus’ hand. “What’s this?”

“An invitation to an event that I completely forgot about,” Magnus replied as he opened the envelope with his magic, since one of his arms was now wrapped securely around Alec’s shoulders. The invitation card inside was made from the same, chocolate-colored paper, and it unfolded itself and hovered a couple inches above their chests, so that they could both read it.

“A winter gala fundraiser?” Alec frowned. “Is this the thing where mundanes dress up for a party and gather money for some cause? You go to those, too?”

“Mhm,” Magnus hummed as his eyes skimmed over the invitation. The date was in the second half of December, somewhat close to Christmas. “I haven’t been to one of these since last year, actually. It’s…” he hesitated for just a second and his breath hitched a little when sudden emotion threatened to overwhelm him, “it’s actually the last time I saw Ragnor in person, before that day in his cottage when he died.”

Alec remained quiet because really, what could he say? He knew perfectly well how much Magnus missed Ragnor. He had been his best friend for hundreds of years, someone so very dear to him who was torn away from his life so suddenly. Alec just wrapped one arm around Magnus’ middle and held him close. And that was more than enough.

“Going to the charity gala was his idea in the first place and it’s something we tried to do every year, for a very long time. He always said that we gathered so much wealth over the centuries that it was only fair we share with those less fortunate.” Magnus folded the invitation back up. “I agree. Hoarding money endlessly is pointless if you don’t spend it on others.”

Alec was silent for a long time, so long that Magnus actually thought he had fallen asleep. He wouldn’t hold it against him. With the warmth of the wards and even warmer body next to his, he was just about ready to fall asleep himself.

“Do you want to go?” Alec asked quietly and Magnus startled a little at the suddenness.

“Do you?” he finally answered a question with a question. “I thought you disliked gatherings like this.”

“It’s important to you.” Alec just shrugged with one shoulder which was as much as he could in their current position, wrapped around each other as they were. “That’s a good enough reason for me to go.”

It was such a simple statement made so casually, as if Alec didn’t realize that no, it wasn’t simple at all. It held a promise of something much greater, this willingness to do things out of your comfort zone for someone you cared about. Magnus couldn’t imagine loving Alec more than he already did, but the young man had surprised him once more. The swell of affection he felt right then was almost overwhelming, filling his heart to the brim so much that Magnus thought he might not be able to take any more of it.

“There’s going to be dancing,” Magnus said, carefully. “And we’re going to have to socialize with others.”

“I’ll leave that to you,” Alec said. “I can just be your arm candy for the night.”

“Well, if that’s the case,” Magnus sighed contently as he turned his head to nuzzle into the black mop of Alec’s hair, “I think it’s about time we got you some appropriate clothes.”

Alec only groaned.

Of course, there was only one shop that Magnus could trust when it came to black-tie event clothes. So on Alec’s next free afternoon he portaled them all the way to London, next to the tailor’s shop he had discovered a little over a hundred years ago and still visited when an occasion called for it. It was an old-fashioned establishment with its dark brown antique furniture, classic paintings and subtle gold accents. They spent a good amount of time in there, discussing their options first and picking the right fabrics. The task fell to Magnus, mostly, though Alec did try his best to listen and offer opinions when asked; It was clear that the younger man felt totally out of his element among the posh and somewhat stuffy surroundings. But, Magnus supposed, if there was anything that playing politics with the Clave taught you, it was how to pretend you knew more than you let on.

The senior tailor attending them was a tall, middle-aged gentleman, whose handsome features and proud posture must have turned a lot of heads in his younger years. Even though you could see the signs of age on his face, there was still something incredibly alluring in him. The tailor’s assistant, however, was a young, cheerful man in his mid-twenties, beautiful in his youth and energetic nature. Both men were strikingly handsome and Magnus couldn’t not notice that. And by the way that Alec blushed furiously when it came to taking measurements (especially the inseam) Magnus was pretty sure Alec noticed too.

Magnus made appointments for future fittings and paid in advance for the job and the short-notice deadline that they had. Then he promptly had to reassure his wide-eyed boyfriend that no, six-and-a-half thousand dollars for one bespoke tuxedo wasn’t too much. One did not spare any expense when it came to extraordinary quality. After all, they both deserved only the best.

That, and he couldn’t wait to see Alec in the finished piece.

Magnus had to admit, he was getting a little worried.

He had tried to find time for him and Alec to have some kind of dancing lesson, if only to teach his boyfriend the basics of the most common ballroom dances, but there simply was no time. The month and a half before the event was flowing by and he still had not breached the subject with Alec. He tried suggesting at first, with some kind of subtle manipulation to get them alone so that they could practice. Then, eventually, he asked Alec outright about the constant switching of plans and cancellations whenever he wanted to teach him.

“You don’t have anything to be worried about,” Alec had said before kissing him goodbye and fleeing for yet another mission that demanded his personal attention.

Magnus just huffed and gave up, not seeing any point in pushing the issue. If Alec wanted to make fool of himself on the dance floor, it was his choice.

“Do you know a lot of people here?” Alec asked, taking a sip of his champagne.

They’ve been standing near a bar, each of them with a tall glass in hand, ever since Magnus finished what he called ‘a suitable amount of mingling and schmoozing’. Alec had gamely played his self-assigned part as arm candy, nodding at appropriate places or chuckling politely at the jokes of other patrons, despite their mixed quality. Magnus had flitted from one small group of guests to the other, never staying too long, always the social butterfly - a role he played perfectly and willingly.

The gala took place in a country mansion not far away from London. Though ‘country mansion’ was not a correct description. It was more like a palace, really, with its massive size, rich decor, and meticulously kept gardens. Magnus still remembered the feeling of awe when he saw one of these mansions for the first time and that same look of wonder was now clearly visible on Alec’s face.

“Me and Ragnor, we’ve been changing charities every couple of years, to avoid the questions about not aging with time.” Magnus was very much aware how his breath always caught a little whenever he mentioned his dear friend. “But I’ve seen some of the guests at previous events. And some of them I’ve known for decades - I wasn’t the only immortal that Ragnor roped into this little project of his. See that woman over there, in the navy blue dress?” Magnus tilted his head a little and Alec followed with his line of sight. “A warlock acquaintance of mine. She’s glamored away the fish scales that cover most of her skin.”

Which was a bit of a pity, really. Magnus remembered very well how Anastasia’s scales shimmered with various colors, iridescent and beautiful, and the dress would have complimented them perfectly... If only this were a Downworlder party. All of the guests were dressed to the nines. The women in glittering gowns and pretty cocktail dresses, the men elegant in their formal wear.

And Alec…

Oh, his Alec, who looked so incredible in his brand new clothes. The tuxedo fit him perfectly - as it should, after so many visits to the tailor shop to get it just right. Every inch of fabric was cut and designed in a way to flatter his body, hug it in the right places and flow smoothly in the others. He was clean-shaven and smelled deliciously of a sharp but sweet after-shave. Magnus was one step away from just nuzzling in and licking that tempting bit of skin on his neck where the deflect rune was glamored away. Alec’s hair was still somewhat of a disaster, sticking up in several different directions at once, but at least it looked a little bit more tame than on his usual days.

The gala had moved from the dinner part of the evening into dancing and Magnus found his champagne flute lifted from his hand when the first tones of a waltz sounded through the room. Then Alec was offering him his hand and he had a mischievous look in his eyes and Magnus blinked in surprise, even as he was being pulled to the dance floor.

“Do you, ah, do you want me to lead?” Magnus asked as they got into position and Alec clearly settled in the leading role.

“I’m good,” Alec said and then raised one eyebrow at Magnus. “Can you follow?”

Oh, it was on.

Magnus expected… he wasn’t sure what he expected. He had seen Alec dance on those rare occasions where his boyfriend joined him in Pandemonium and it became clear very quickly that Alec was just… not good at it. Awkward and stiff, and - once you got a couple drinks in him - downright silly, with a lot of flailing arms and bumbling dance moves. Since Alec refused to practice with him, Magnus was bracing himself for having his toes stepped on or bumping into other dancing couples.

But of course, his Alexander had to go and defy his expectations once again.

They started moving just in the right moment and followed the three-beat tempo perfectly, without missing a step. One of Alec’s hands was steady on his back, supporting him through the spins and the other gently cradled Magnus’ own hand, keeping it on level. Magnus must have had a pretty dumbstruck look on his face, since Alec was grinning at him.

They glided over the dance floor effortlessly, spinning and turning and Magnus recalled his fear from the weeks back, the one about his heart actually bursting with the affection he felt for the amazing, beautiful man in front of him. The one who looked at Magnus like he was the most important thing in the world and whose eyes were shining with mirth and so much love. For all the long centuries of his life, Magnus couldn’t remember anyone looking at him like that before.

“It seems I’ve been tricked,” Magnus laughed once the music stopped and they had retreated to the side, new glasses of champagne in hands to quench the thirst from dancing. Magnus was feeling more than a little breathless and it wasn’t only because of the exertion. “All those times where you made some excuse not to practice dancing with me. You’ve been planning this all along, haven’t you?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” Alec said with a small, bashful smile. “Did it work?”

“You keep astonishing me, darling.” Magnus leaned in and brushed a soft kiss on Alec’s lips, making the younger man blush a little at the public display of affection, something he still wasn’t completely used to. “But pray tell, how did you come to be so efficient at the waltz?”

“Old-fashioned parents, what else? Mother believed that all good-mannered shadowhunter children from old families should be able to dance well at their weddings. Me, Izzy, and Jace, we all had to learn. In a couple of years she’s going to insist on teaching Max as well.” Alec shrugged. “It’s different from club dancing. If it has choreography then it’s easier for me to learn it. Just like martial arts, I guess?”

“It is a good skill to have,” Magnus admitted. It was no secret from anyone who knew him how much he loved to dance. “You need to show me what else can you do.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Alec laughed, “I only know two dances. Waltz and tango. Izzy made me learn the second one.”

Magnus’ entire face lit up and he gave Alec his brightest smile.

“The first appropriate song they play, you are so dancing the tango with me. Or no, wait, this might actually be too much and make my poor little heart explode with glee.”

“Any kind of exploding will have to wait till I’m back from the restroom,” Alec chuckled as he placed the half-empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray.

“Go ahead, I’m going to need a bit of a fresh air. It suddenly got too hot for me here.” Magnus winked at Alec’s good-natured eye roll.

The large, round conservatory just on the other end of the corridor that led to the ballroom was mostly empty. It was a little cold inside, but not unbearably so. Magnus stopped near one of the huge windows and took tentative sips of his champagne as he looked to the landscape behind the glass. The terrace gardens, filled with neatly-trimmed hedges and stone statues were drowning in snow and even as he looked, the thick snowflakes fell from the sky. Winter was taking its early toll and it covered the world with a white layer. The strings of white christmas lights hung between the trees and columns of the garden added to the quiet, magical atmosphere and Magnus sighed in contentment.

“Looks like you’re having a great time,” a familiar voice to his left said and Magnus turned his head a little to give Ragnor a nod.

“I am,” he confirmed. “I think I’m finally in the good place, my friend. All thanks to the wise advice you gave me so long ago.”

Ragnor hummed and crossed his hands behind his back as he joined Magnus in watching the winter wonderland behind the glass. They stood in companionable silence for a couple of minutes, enjoying the solitude and the stillness of the world that was usually so very hectic.

“Magnus,” Ragnor finally said, “I’m glad that you’re finally happy. He’s a good one, your shadowhunter.”

“He’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” Magnus whispered, a soft smile on his lips.

“Good. I hope you don’t ever intend to let him go.” Ragnor sighed. “This is the last time you’ll see me. I think I’m finally done meddling with your life, now that you actually made some good decisions for once.”

“I figured it might happen soon.” Magnus nodded. “I will miss you, my dear Cabbage. My very own spirit of Christmas past and present. Who will teach me to follow my heart now?”

“Oh, I think you have someone who will take care of that big heart of yours,” Ragnor chuckled. “Goodbye, Magnus. I hope I won’t see you in the afterlife for a very long time.”

“Goodbye, my friend,” Magnus said and while he thought he should feel sad, he only felt at peace. Ragnor was moving on, finally. Magnus knew that he would be alright now, even with Ragnor gone.

“Who were you talking to?”

Magnus turned to look over his shoulder to see Alec standing not far away from him, a puzzled look on his face. He glanced back to his left but as he suspected, Ragnor was already gone.

“No one,” Magnus said. “Just talking to myself.”

Alec closed the distance between them and cupped Magnus’ cheek and the look in his hazel eyes was a little hesitant and worried.

“Magnus, is everything okay?”

Magnus just nuzzled into Alec’s palm, raising his own hand to cover Alec’s. It was warm and strong and a little calloused. A hand of a warrior and a protector. A hand that already held Magnus’ heart in it and cradled it gently and with utmost care, like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“Yes,” Magnus whispered, “everything is perfect.”

#malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #the mortal instruments #tmi #malec secret santa #headcanons #malec headcanons

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handle-with-utmost-care · 6 years

Text

Cheerleader/Soccer player PART 5

Ok so I wrote this series years ago (i think like 4 yrs lmao) and I had a very uncharacteristic urge to finish several stuff I have lingering about..

and this was one of them…IDK If anyone is still interested in reading? Lol or even remember? Or maybe you’re new here bc of riptide but lmao surprise I wrote this cringe drabble that turned into a 5 part fic :)

I am like...70% embarrassed by this fic bc i hate mostly every previous part. it was hard to continue bc I had to get over my crippling distaste for sudden POV changes. maybe someday when I’m not too caught up in my own procrastination I’ll go back and rewrite and flesh out this mess and post it on AO3, but for now this’ll have to do.

to the person constantly harassing me to finish it YOU KNOW WHAT ANNIE I FUCKING IFNALLY DID IT OKAY. MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS HAPPY NEW YEAR YOU ASS! @cherylsbosom

also apologies for any typos

PART 5

“Alright, status report girls.”

“I thought we were dropping the fancy lingo?”

“Yeah it’s kinda confusing to keep up with.”

“Status report,” Ally Brooke repeats, sharply eyeing the girls on her bed.

She had invited Dinah and Normani after school to continue discussing a potential plan B.

But from the looks of it, Ally’s got the distinct impression that that’s the last thing on their minds. If their giggling over Dinah’s phone was any obvious indication.

Ally clears her throat pointedly. When that has no effect, Ally stomps her foot. “Girls!”

Dinah drops her phone and Normani’s laughter immediately tapers off.

“We have to focus here. Lives are at stake,” Ally says, as she flips open to the newest empty page in her notepad.

Normani gives her a look of disbelief. Ally almost flushes at the expression, because, okay, maybe she is still getting a bit carried away with this Operation Camren thing.

But she had convinced herself that Camila and Lauren were both too stubborn to realize the obvious. This was all for the sake of love.

And Ally was a firm believer in doing things for the sake of love.

Her eyes glance down at the notepad in time to realize she had already spelled out the mortifying title. She hastily scribbles it out before the girls can see. Normani’s expression turns into an annoyed eye roll.

Fortunately she doesn’t comment, much to the Ally’s relief.

“Mila’s not doing so well,” Dinah says, finally returning her complete attention on the topic at hand. “She’s been ditching soccer practice lately and she never wants to leave her room whenever I try to invite her to go out.”

Ally figured as much. It’s been almost a month since that awful incident at the party, an incident that Camila has been very close lipped about.

Ally had lost count of the number of times she tried to get the girl to open up. Inevitably, each time had always ended in a very indignant frown and an annoyed: “Just drop it Ally, everything is fine, okay?”

Ally wouldn’t press after that. But it was clear that everything most definitely was not okay.

“Lauren is bitchier than usual and I don’t think it has anything to do with the freshman cheerleaders fucking up the pyramid formation,” Normani admits after a while.

Ally sighs at this. She’d been aware of the head cheerleader’s mood swings, witnessing a firsthand account of it yesterday when Lauren completely chewed out a freshman for missing a step in the routine. An honest mistake that really didn’t deserve such a harsh scolding.

Ally had tried to calm Lauren down at the time, but she was having none of it. Instead, Lauren had chosen to stomp off and cut practice short.

Normally, this wouldn’t exactly worry Ally. It wasn’t anything new for Lauren to throw tantrums when things weren’t going her way. But for the tantrums to be so closely followed by a complete emotional 180 was something to be concerned about. And recently Ally had caught Lauren in a state of severe melancholy.

It was a draining experience hanging out with the girls only to have Lauren bringing the atmosphere down with the frequent amount of times she would frown sadly. Or respond sadly. Or even just breathe sadly. Ally had lost count of the sudden urges to shake Lauren and demand what was wrong.

But then, Ally would catch Lauren staring at Camila.

And she had decided that perhaps leaving them alone really was the best option.

Ally plops down at the edge of the bed, defeated.

“And I really thought this was all going to work out.”

“Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be,” Normani offers, as she inspects her nails. “Even though their horoscopes say they’re totally compatible.”

Ally doesn’t question how Normani even knows Camila’s birthday.

Another month passes. Another month of the same strained atmosphere. Ally is sure the rest of the cheerleaders have picked up on their leader’s flip flopped mood swings. The girls on the squad learned to leave a wide span between themselves and Lauren.

The soccer team wasn’t faring much better. Ally had noticed Camila’s performance out on the field had suffered drastically to the point that she’d been sitting out on the bench more often than not.

It was a dreary month for all of them, despite the rapidly approaching homecoming game. Something that she, Lauren, and Normani had excitedly talked about at the beginning of the school year was a topic that had been seemingly forgotten.

Yet the school didn’t share the same sentiment. Everywhere, people were buzzing with pregame excitement weeks before. Hallways were adorned with bright posters and decorations. The school’s PA always made sure to add a final comment reminding students to buy their tickets. Many conversations between classes were heard predicting the outcome of the game.

Today isn’t any different, Ally thinks as she pushes past a group of guys on the football team hyping the other up. She rolls her eyes. The action makes her stop before the cafeteria. She wasn’t like this. Usually she’d join in on the hype. Relish in it.

This whole Lauren and Camila is seriously putting a damper in my mental well being too.

She sighs, pushing through the double doors leading to the cafeteria, feeling a wave of despair at the thought.

The cafeteria is loud and rowdy. More than usual, Ally notices. Her eyes flit over to the source of the noise to find a growing throng of students near the far end of the room.

The shouts and jeers echo across the cafeteria walls, mixing into a cacophonous mess. Ally can’t exactly discern what is being said or cheered. But from the school spirit that’s been thrust in her face recently she thinks she has a pretty good guess.

For a moment, Ally panics that this was a planned lunch event she forgot about, or in one of Lauren’s irrational moods, she’d decided to have an impromptu pep rally to punish the squad.

Ally quickly rifles through her bag, pulling out her weekly planner. After flipping to the latest date, relief spreads through her chest.

No. No scheduled event.

More students gravitate towards the crowd. Ally pushes through several people, in the opposite direction, until she finds Normani.

“What’s going on?” Ally questions, sidling up beside the girl. Normani simply shakes her head.

“I don’t know.”

Ally opens her mouth but Normani quickly cuts in.

“And no, I don’t want to know.”

Ally pouts at her indifference.

The both of them make their way to their usual table. And when Lauren joins them a few moments later, she makes no indication that she’s noticed the unusual overly eager students.

Well that rules out an impromptu pep rally.

Lauren takes a seat. Ally immediately feels a wave of sympathy upon seeing her friend. She takes in Lauren’s miserable frown, the distressed knit of her eyebrows and downcast eyes.

This was probably worse than the random angry outbursts the past month. Seeing Lauren so dejected always managed to pull at her heartstrings.

“Hey girl,” Ally greets, moving to take the seat across from her. Lauren barely lifts up her gaze as she tosses her food with the fork in her other hand.

“Hey,” she answers, casting her eyes down upon the untouched food again.

“You want some of my fruit salad?” Normani probes.” My mom put in some mangos, I know you like them.”

Lauren doesn’t even flinch at the uncharacteristically nice gesture.

“Maybe later.”

Ally and Normani exchange a look. This behavior had seemed to be going further and further into a downward spiral as the weeks progressed. Ally was almost tempted to go through with her intervention.

Look how your meddling turned out.

Maybe Normani was right. Maybe it would be just best to leave them alone.

Ally sighs, before pulling out her own lunch.

The crowd continues to go on strong. The jeers and sneers reverberate throughout the lunchroom even more so than before.

Ally begins to notice that the majority of students are starting to swarm the crowd. Her eyes glance around the people trying to determine the situation. That’s when she realizes something that makes her stomach drop.

“I think that’s the soccer team’s table,” Ally says. The tone of her voice grabs both girls’ attention. She watches as Lauren’s eyes dart towards the crowd and the similar conclusion comes to her. Her expression instantly sparks to life.

Lauren is out of her seat before Ally has time to register anything. She doesn’t even have time to tell her to wait because in the next second Lauren is shoving people out of the way and disappearing among the mass of students.

“Come on,” Ally blurts out, tugging Normani up from her seat to chase after her.

Their process is a lot less effortless than Lauren who had people parting like the red sea after her aggressive pushes.

It’s probably because of the hastily muttered excuse me’s that fall from Ally’s lips. Eventually Normani becomes so frustrated that she just hollers a very loud MOVE.

The students finally part, allowing them to push through until they reach the table…. only to realize that they’re too late.

Ally feels her blood turn cold when she sees her friends.

Slowly, her senses come into focus. And she realizes, dizzily, that cheering she heard earlier were actually people chanting FIGHT.

Dinah and one of the freshmen on the cheer squad are in an intense hair pulling scuffle, while Lauren is on the floor trying to aim a punch on another beneath her, who Ally suddenly recognizes as the girl Lauren chewed out at practice what felt like forever ago.

Ally lunges forward trying to pull Lauren up from the girl, as Normani attempts to pry apart the two other girls beside them.

She manages to get Lauren to her feet, not without a ridiculous amount of struggle. Because then Lauren keeps attempting to hit the girl on the floor. The victim of Lauren’s assault isn’t making things any easier for her either, as she continuously claws at them until Ally gets caught in the fray.

Ally feels her hair being yanked in an awkward angle painfully.

God, if she wasn’t a pacifist she swears she would –

“Stop! Stop! Stop this immediately what on earth are all of you – girls STOP IT!”

The sound of the principal makes them all spring apart from each other.

The six girls are huffing and red faced, attempting to catch their breaths.

Ally’s hand instantly comes to gingerly rub her sore scalp, before scowling at the culprit for the hair pulling. The freshman’s eye is already swelling, and Ally tries to quell the silly surge of pride towards Lauren for getting her good.

She glances at Lauren, sighing in relief that her friend looks unscathed for the most part. Her eyes then come to Dinah and Normani. Dinah is pouting as she tries to fix her mussed hair and Normani is pressing her fingers to her bottom lip in search of blood.

Ally sighs again, and that’s when she remembers the last girl. She searches in a frenzy for Camila, praying she wasn’t a part of this. But then she sees the soccer player, gaping wordlessly at them …completely covered in food.

The principal turns his attention towards them all.

“You seven. My office. Now.”

A month’s worth of scraping gum off the cafeteria tables seems a lot better than a potential suspension. Ally will take what she can get, she decides as they all disperse from the principal’s office.

The two offending freshmen pull Lauren aside to beg for forgiveness. Though from Lauren’s stony expression, Ally figures Lauren is already planning to kick them off the team. But then is momentarily shocked when Lauren accepts their apology stiffly, followed by a malicious threat to stay in line.

(Later on, Ally would find out the girls’ had decided to go after Camila in a misguided attempt lighten up their captain’s somber mood).

“Did you see that girl’s eye? You got her so good, Laurenzo. I’m kind of proud,” Dinah compliments, after the two girls slink away. Lauren’s lips tilt into a small smile.

“Yeah but you practically pulled out her entire weave. That’s impressive,” Lauren responds, a smile finally breaking out.

Not that Ally condones fighting, because, like, she so doesn’t, but it’s nice seeing them get along. Albeit for the wrong reasons. But there’s something so amazing seeing Dinah nudging Lauren in that friendly manner. As if they’d known each other their entire lives.

“You both are ridiculous,” Normani snaps. “I literally just got my nails done yesterday and this happened.” She lifts her hand up to show off a broken middle fingernail. They both laugh and after a while Normani cracks a grin. “But okay, yeah it was kind of bad ass.”

“Kind of? Did you see the other girls?” Dinah demands.

“I don’t really understand how you’re all so happy. We got a month’s detention because you guys can’t communicate like normal people.” Camila’s voice pierces through the lighthearted atmosphere. Ally almost forgets her presence because she had been so silent during their walk through the hallway.

She watches as Camila pulls out a spaghetti noodle from her hair and flicks it to the floor.

“We were defending you,” Lauren mumbles after a while.

“I didn’t ask you to,” Camila snaps. “I was handling it.”

“Clearly,” Lauren mumbles sarcastically.

“You know what?” Camila whirls around. “I don’t need your sarcasm. And I don’t need your stupid sympathy, okay? Today wouldn’t have even happened if you weren’t such a bitch.”

Lauren visibly recoils.

“Mila,” Ally begins but the soccer player shoots her a glare.

“No, don’t do that-“

“It wasn’t my fault,” Lauren begins hotly.

“Like you didn’t plan to have them dump the entire squad’s lunch on me. I have spaghetti noodles in places there shouldn’t be!” Camila snaps.

“Mila, she didn’t know that those girls were going to do that to you. You really think she would send those cheerleaders after you?” Dinah questions.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

It’s the statement that does it. That plunges the atmosphere completely into a subzero level. That makes Lauren look completely heartbroken. That actually breaks Ally’s heart.

It’s another week of radio silence between the two. Another week of Ally and Normani (and now on occasion Dinah), watching Lauren sigh dejectedly into her food during lunch. Sometimes she’d cast a few sad looks over to the soccer team’s table. And the girls would look upon her sympathetically.

Lauren didn’t know which was worse.

The pity or being ignored. While one was infuriating as hell, the other just…hurt.

This morning in particular was brutal. She had run into Camila in the hallway, accidentally knocking her duffel bag from her shoulder. When she tried to reach down to grab it, Camila scrambled to pick it up herself and hurried away head bowed. The exchange – or lack of one – left Lauren feeling like she was a ghost.

“Would you just talk to her?” Normani groans exasperatedly after Lauren recounts the events to the three of them in Ally’s room after school.

“She practically hates my guts.” Lauren mutters into her pillow.

“Look, as much as I love kicking you especially when you’re down I don’t think I can take any more of your moping. It’s actually starting to depress me,” Normani sighs, sitting down beside Lauren on the bed. “And I doubt she hates you.”

“Yeah, it’s impossible for Mila to hate anything,” Dinah chimes in from her spot on the floor.

“Except me.”

“She’s just really upset right now, Lauren,” Ally supplies. “And rightfully so. You really did a number on her. What the heck did you even say to her at the party?”

At this, Lauren feels her face redden with shame.

She had toyed with the idea of telling them, but she feared that they would hate her more than she hated herself. And she wasn’t ready for any more negativity.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Lauren mumbles. “It was…it was really bad. And I feel really shitty for it too.”

“Then tell her that,” Normani snaps.

That’s easier said than being done, Lauren thinks. She makes a small grunt that earns an eye roll from her friend.

Ally comes to sit next to her and places a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Lauren, we’ve all seen the way you look at her.”

Lauren freezes at this. It’s the first time they all sort of acknowledge the big pink elephant of the room that is her more than platonic feelings for the soccer player. And she almost expects mockery or insults. But when she glances up to find them all staring at her supportively, she feels a deep seated worry slowly dissipate.

“And we’re all more than positive she feels the same way,” Ally continues, saying just the right thing to settle her confused doubt.

“Really?”

“Girl, of course she does,” Dinah adds in. “She looks at you like you put the pineapples on her pizza.”

“That’s disgusting, Dinah,” Normani retorts with a fake gag.

“Well where else are you supposed to put pineapples?”

“Um, not on a pizza.”

“It’s called Hawaiian pizza.”

“All that should be on my pizza is pepperoni and cheese,” Normani argues stubbornly.

“How can you not like pineapples on pizza? Who doesn’t like pineapples on pizza?” Dinah demands turning to look at them incredulously.

“I like Canadian bacon,” Ally says unhelpfully.

Lauren tunes the rest of the conversation after the two decide to settle the matter by ordering pizza. Her thoughts stray to the soccer player. And a pang of guilt hits her.

When the pizza arrives twenty minutes later, Normani demands (through a mouth full of Hawaiian pizza) that Lauren take her self-pitying ass next door and grovel for forgiveness.

Dinah agrees, and Ally rephrases that advice in a more encouraging manner. The thumbs up did little for her self esteem as they all but threw her out of Ally’s room and confiscated her phone lest she try to uber it back home.

And that’s really how she finds herself on Camila Cabello’s doorstep, desperately trying to think of ways to get out of knocking.

It’s stupid. This is dumb. There’s no way – absolutely no way Camila would even want to see her. The past week, the soccer player has been pointedly avoiding her.

No, that was an understatement. Lauren was getting the cold shoulder. That blatant icy treatment that left her feeling even worse than before the stupid cafeteria incident.

The last thing Camila had said to her was still plaguing her mind. Camila had insulted her, offended every nerve that could possibly be offended and yet Lauren knew she deserved it. Dinah may have been right – it wasn’t possible for Camila to hate anyone. But reducing Camila to the type of person who could be so incredibly harsh to another person just made the situation all the more worse.

Camila hated her. It wasn’t even something to debate.

Lauren hesitates ringing the doorbell. Her fingertips ghost across the button, brushing the smooth surface uncertainly.

A hundred and one things filter through her head and they all revolve around the girl somewhere behind the door.

She doesn’t get a chance to summon up much courage because in the next second the door is flying open and the Camila Cabello is standing before her.

She doesn’t look as surprised as Lauren feels, which is more than a little disheartening, but she tries not to let it faze her. Instead, she straightens up, almost to the point of rigidity.

Relax Lauren. Jesus. Okay. Here we go-

“What are you doing here?” Camila asks just as Lauren begins to form the apology that was burning to in the back of her throat ever since she Camila ran out of her bedroom crying.

Lauren hesitates, suddenly feeling the little flicker of confidence she fabricated fade away. Camila looks all around unimpressed with her display and this only serves to turn her nerves into jelly. Abort, Lauren. Abort.

NO. You will fucking stay and say your peace or so help me god you dumb shit.

“I asked you a question,” Camila snaps. It seems strange, so completely out of character seeing her so angry. There’s a venom that wasn’t there before in her voice, in her sharp expression that leaves Lauren wishing she had come better prepared for this.

A stab of guilt pricks at her chest as she realizes the only person who made this happen was herself.

Lauren swallows thickly, fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist. The attempt to occupy herself with something besides Camila’s steely gaze is pitiful. But then again, she is a coward. She’s not even sure she can look the girl in the eye anymore.

“Look, if you’re not gonna say anything you might as well just –“

“-I’m sorry!” Lauren blurts out. The desperation of the outcry overwhelms her. She’s not going anywhere until she makes Camila listen – to everything. Because she knows deep down this is her only chance. Her only shot at fixing anything that she’s so despicably good at fucking up.

Camila’s glare softens slightly. It’s very miniscule but it gives Lauren the hope she needs.

“I’m sorry, Camila,” she says again, internally quivering at the name that rolls so effortlessly off her tongue. It comes out so naturally, almost as if it had always sort of had its own place in her voice. As if she was supposed to say it over and over again. Which, admittedly she would do…in the privacy of her room…in the dead of night…where literally no one would be able to hear.

(Of course she would deny ever doing that if anyone asked her).

But it’s the first time she’s ever called Camila by her name. Well the first time non insultingly. And it’s something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the both of them. Lauren feels her face flush suddenly, and Camila’s eyebrows rise.

“Camila,” she pauses, feeling the nervous little buzz building in her stomach at the name. “I didn’t – look, about what happened at the party – I didn’t mean it.”

Camila’s eyes narrow and the walls are back up again.

“It sure didn’t sound like it. Just because you defended me last week, which I didn’t even freaking ask you to do by the way, doesn’t mean I’m going to be welcoming you into my life with open arms,” Camila says. “You humiliated me.”

“I know.”

“No. I don’t think you do, Lauren. It hurt. Like a lot, okay?” Camila blurts out. “I’m not even sure I can forgive you.”

Lauren feels that little glimmer of hope crash dive. This isn’t going as planned. Oh what did she know? There weren’t any plans or any go-to instructions for this kind of situation. How were you even supposed to convince the girl that you’ve been stupidly in love with for four years that you want her?

She flushes at the thought and the familiar wave of denial bubbles up in the pit of her stomach. She can barely even admit that fact inside her own head. How could she possibly even begin to explain it to Camila?

The girl practically thinks she hates her, which she doesn’t. Oh god, she doesn’t even hate her at all.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, Camila,” Lauren begins, feeling her voice tremble. “I really don’t. I just – I just wanted to explain.”

Camila stares at her expectantly.

“I didn’t know what people were going to think if they found out,” Lauren mutters and Camila rolls her eyes.

“That’s not enough.”

“I was scared.”

“That’s still not enough.”

“Camila, please.”

She sees the girl’s expression soften again, the aggression slowly crumbling away. It gives her the courage she needs, the motivation to bring down her own stupid barrier preventing her from being vulnerable.

And this time, when Camila speaks her anger has soundly melted. “Don’t be scared.”

It’s just a small request, not even louder than a whisper but Lauren can hear it. The conviction behind the three words. The ounce of moral support beneath them. The figurative hesitant arms being slowly opened for her to walk into and it’s enough.

Lauren takes a deep breath, her heart pounding. She swallows thickly and tries to calm the rapid beating.

“I really didn’t mean what I said to you at the party,” she begins

Lauren almost anticipates Camila to make another sarcastic comment, but she simply stares at her so she continues.

“I didn’t mean it when I told you that there wasn’t anything that would happen between us. I didn’t believe it in the slightest because…I wanted something to happen,” she admits in a rush. “And all that stuff about you being no one was just about the shittiest thing I’ve ever said and I feel terrible. It’s not true at all, Camila. Not even a little bit. I was just – I wanted to hurt you because I was the one feeling like the loser. I’m a shitty person know I am.”

“You’re not a shitty person Lauren,” Camila sighs wearily. The admittance makes her hesitate. Makes her stop and stare at Camila keenly, feeling her chest ache suddenly.

Even in her anger, Camila will still defend her. Lauren isn’t even sure if this should please or upset her.

“I am though. And it’s not even about the night of the party. I know I’ve put you through hell for like years. I’ve just been such an idiot about all of this because I was just so fucking scared of what it all meant.” She stops and runs a nervous hand through her hair. “Because I’ve never felt this way, like ever about anyone and I knew, deep down that you had the power to hurt me in the worst way. And I just, like I just refused to give you that power so I thought that if I hurt you first…” Lauren trails off, shaking her head. The shame that’s kept her up all night for weeks manages to creep back up.

She averts her gaze, feeling the all too familiar burning stinging building. The last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of Camila.

“It’s stupid I know,” Lauren mumbles. “It makes no sense – that logic. I’m an idiot and I don’t want to be that person anymore. I don’t want to be that person who gets scared over every fucking little thing, or the person who cares more about her popularity than the things that really matter. I just don’t care about that stuff anymore. Camila, I don’t care. I don’t even – I can’t even properly articulate how fucking sorry I am. For everything. For making your feelings seem like they don’t matter because they do, Camila. They matter so much to me. And…I’m done belittling my own feelings as well because…because they matter too.”

She feels Camila’s eyes burning into the side of her face, almost as if prompting her to turn and face her. But she’s afraid of what she’ll see. Disgust? Anger?

She doesn’t expect the softness. She doesn’t expect the understanding. She doesn’t expect the feel of her fingertips brushing against her. In comfort. Acceptance.

Camila’s warm hands come to grip hers, undoing her tight fist. She feels a palm press into hers and it feels so incredibly intimate that Lauren is almost tempted to pull away. The sudden fear springs up again. The fear of being hurt.

But when she looks up at Camila’s face again, the fear melts.

“What do you feel?” Camila asks gently.

She poses the question that went unanswered in that stuffy room during the party. She’s opening the door of vulnerable opportunity. She’s allowing Lauren a second chance. One that she knows she doesn’t deserve.

A gentle squeeze of their hands prompts Lauren to speak again.

“I feel…” Lauren’s voice dies, as a lump forms in her throat. It’s stupid to get this emotional, she thinks. But god it’s been such a long time since she’s felt anything remotely similar to this. “I feel a lot,” she finishes lamely.

Camila tilts her head. For a second, Lauren feels that she’s going to laugh at her dumb attempt at opening up. But Camila is patient, something that Lauren is beginning to feel grateful for. She’s nothing like Lauren.

“I think you should know, that I…” Lauren trails off uncertainly. She stammers on the spot for a moment. It takes another gentle squeeze for Lauren to calm her nerves. “I think you're the most irritatingly adorable person I've met. I get butterflies every time I'm even in the same room as you, or even when you just look at me because you make me so nervous. And you make me doubt everything and it pisses me off but at the same time I love it because it’s you.” She pauses, releasing a shaky breath. "You’re just – like – I don’t even think you realize how extraordinary you are Camila.”

Lauren averts her eyes. Blearily glowering down at her shoes. Shifting weight between each foot. But Camila’s hand is still in hers. Intertwined. Giving Lauren just enough courage to continue.

“And I know it’s stupid because I’ve been such a bitch to you all of these years. I know it probably doesn’t mean much to you, saying all of this now. I just,” Lauren pauses, searching for the proper words. Her pounding heart isn’t exactly making it any easier. Camila staring at her so intensely isn’t making it any easier either. “I just wanted your attention. And I didn't care if it was negative attention.”

Lauren lets out a shuddering breath. The hand in hers loosens, and Lauren quickly tightens it, keeping their fingers firmly interlocked.

“I wanted your eyes on me. I wanted you to know me. That’s what I’ve always ever wanted, Camila."

The homecoming game falls on a chilly Friday night in October. The winds send a biting chill as the sun falls into its daily descent. The bright lights of the stadium highlights the puffs of breaths exhaled from excited students as they find their seats on the bleachers.

The football teams congregate on either side of the field, huddling for their plays. The cheerleaders form a tight group on the track, coming closer for warmth behind their short, pleated skirts, awaiting their captain’s presence.

The frosty air extends past the field, curling and slithering beneath the cracks of the school’s double doors, spreading through the empty hallways. Even faintly permeating within the small confines of the girl’s locker room. Where the conveniently absent head cheerleader has dragged a more than willing soccer player away from the loud crowded football field.

Lauren presses Camila up against the locker. She feels Camila squirm beneath her weight and she gets a thrill out of it. Her lips brush against Camila’s forehead, her cheeks, her nose, her chin, finally resting upon her mouth. Lauren moves them slow and sensually, closing and parting her lips in a delicious rhythm she has become quite familiar with.

Lauren parts her lips again, taking in the Camila’s bottom lip. Her teeth close around them, almost playfully. It would be playful if Lauren’s hands aren’t currently trying to cop a feel beneath the girl’s shirt.

Camila pulls away breathlessly. Her pants beat enticingly against Lauren’s lips, tempting her to close the gap again. But Camila is resilient, even angling her body away slightly.

“Did the girls give you a hard time?” Camila asks, her hands loosening their tight grip in her hair.

“No, it’s not halftime yet.”

Camila nods and leans back against the locker again.

“Do you think they suspect anything?”

“Please. The girls are still betting on Ally’s dumb Operation Camren plan,” Lauren scoffs. Camila laughs. Lauren feels Camila’s fingers play with the ends of her hair, twirling a few strands.

The uneven pace from the kissing has melted, warming Lauren up inside, as if she had her own personal Camila sweater. The thought almost makes her cringe. When did she turn into such a sap?

“You know, without Ally’s dumb plan this probably wouldn’t have happened,” Camila murmurs.

Lauren wants to disagree. She wants to protest and go through her detailed argument of how very much it would have happened anyway. How they were inevitable from the very beginning. It was only a matter of time because they were made for each other.

But it’s stupid and makes her sound like a weenie, even in her head.

Lauren is a lot of things. But she is most definitely not a weenie.

“Should we thank her?”

“Hmm, probably not,” Camila says, glancing down at Lauren’s lips. “I think she’ll be disappointed that she couldn’t plan our first date.”

There’s always the wedding.

For a horrifying second, Lauren almost says that out loud. It takes her a moment to recover from her almost blunder. She secretly thanks the big man upstairs for gracing her with the ability to keep her mouth shut.

(She makes a mental note to go with Ally to church more often).

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Lauren finally responds, eyes roaming across Camila’s face. Her flushed expression. Her red, bruised lips, tousled hand blown out eyes. Lauren feels a quiver of happiness and something not quite as innocent fluttering below her waist. Her nails dance around her skin lightly. Camila shivers beneath her touch.

“Are you cold?” Lauren asks in a soft voice.

Camila glances up at her from beneath her eyelashes and Lauren swears she feels her heart stop.

“A little,” Camila murmurs. Lauren doesn’t hesitate in shrugging off her lettermen and draping it over Camila’s shoulders. “Wait, no I was kidding kind of. You can’t give me this you’re gonna get cold and plus everyone is going to see-“

“I’m not gonna need it during the routine,” Lauren reassures in that same soft tone. “And you’re my girlfriend now. Let everyone see.”

Oh god, did that really come out of my mouth? That stupid cheesey dumb good for nothing line that’ll probably make Camz totally cringe. that’s it I’m becoming a Satanist –

But then she looks at Camila and she’s is staring right back at her with an expression Lauren can’t quite put her finger on. But it easily becomes one of her favorites.

She doesn’t get a chance to speak because Camila is pulling her face down for another long, deep kiss. Their lips move at a heated pace. Lauren can feel the message conveyed in the very contours of Camila’s mouth.

I love you.

It’s not time yet. It’s too soon.

But eventually.

Ally bundles up in her letterman, standing next to Normani on the track field. The noise of chatter from the onlookers on the bleachers is a comforting sound, setting in her cold body pleasantly. Her eyes glance towards the football field, watching her boyfriend Troy in his gear, stretching by the bench, before running out into the field to replace another player. It’s the last game of the season and the excitement is tangible.

“Any sign of Lauren? The quarter is about to end. We already be preparing for the routine,” Normani complains.

As if on cue, the head cheerleader runs on to the field hurriedly, looking much too flushed for this cold weather.

“Hey,” Lauren greets, unevenly, making Ally and Normani exchange a furtive look. Lauren catches this. “What?”

“You’re all red,” Ally supplies, rather sheepishly because thinking of Lauren doing whatever she was doing (or who she was doing, rather), isn’t something she wants to picture.

“And you’re …flustered.” Normani smirks.

“Where’s your jacket?” Ally adds.

Finally Lauren snaps. “What is with the third degree? Jesus, I’m here aren’t I? You know what just get into formation.”

Both Ally and Normani resist the urge to laugh at the blushing girl.

Ally doesn’t have the heart to tease her further. Instead, she follows Lauren’s lead, falling into place with the rest of the cheerleaders.

However, as the routine progresses, Ally can’t help but notice something –someone – emerging from the very same double doors their head cheerleader had burst from just moments ago. Out comes a very flustered, but very happy soccer player, wearing a very familiar letterman jacket. And if Ally hadn’t noticed Lauren’s obvious shivering, the fact that Jauregui was engraved across the back in gold letters was telling enough.

Ally watches as Camila practically skips up towards the bleachers to sit beside Dinah, looking absurdly pleased with herself. The sight brings a silly grin to Ally’s face.

She glances over to Lauren who is too busy staring down at her shoes. But Ally notices the distinct pink tinge to her cheeks.

Her attention shifts to Normani and sees that she, too, notices Camila’s sudden wardrobe change. Normani smirks. But both remained tightlipped.

Once halftime is over, Ally watches as Lauren scurries back through the double doors leading to the locker rooms. She doesn’t even wait to have a quick debriefing of their routine, which Ally finds almost irresponsible. Well, she’ll talk to her about that later. It’s not like she doesn’t know what’s got Lauren all flouncy. Or who.

As if to further demonstrate this, Dinah approaches Ally and Normani down from the bleachers with a smug expression on her face.

“I see Laurenzo isn’t with you.”

Normani glances over Dinah’s shoulder.

“Neither is Camila,” Normani states, a matching smirk growing on her face.

They all sort of giggle at their observation.

Camila and Lauren were not discreet at all. Whatever secret they think they had was about as subtle as a neon sign. A blinking one. With dancing interchangeable lights. And fireworks lighting up in the background.

If all of the times Ally’s caught Lauren waiting by Camila’s locker weren’t an obvious indication. It’s probably the hickeys she’s absently seen as Lauren tries to hastily change into her uniform for practice. Or the nights she’s caught Lauren wearing what looked like one of Camila’s jerseys during sleepovers. Or the flowers Camila swears were from her father the days leading up to the game, (even though Ally distinctly remembers her father never buying flowers because of his allergies).

Not that she confronted them about it. At least not directly.

A little teasing maybe. Something that both of her snickering friends could agree with and had wholeheartedly participated in.

But no. No. She’s definitely learned her lesson about meddling…at least until that potential future wedding she’s begun making plans for comes into play.

Which, in that case, Operation Camren 2.0 is definitely a go.

A/N: happy 2018 !

#hwuc fics #wow i can't believe this happened #i still blame you #annie #camren

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wackygoofball · 7 years

Photo

Gifset: Jaime x Brienne - Traveler AU

Jaime Lannister, manager and right-hand man to the CEO of the company, his father Tywin, lives a life that goes its course almost entirely by itself. From the early beginnings of his life, he was framed to, one day, inherit his father’s “family empire.” And Jaime never bothered, really, being a natural in what it takes to fill in such a position. It just seemed like the most natural conclusion to go with the flow.

Nothing out of the ordinary happens – until it does.

A car accident right outside the family company’s office building leaves Jaime’s right hand permanently damaged. And this experience shows Jaime one thing: He didn’t witness anything exciting, anything extraordinary, and almost died not having achieved much of anything outside the family business.

At first, he is simply depressed, caves in at home, does not show up at work, is done with life. But then, perhaps by a wink of fate, Jaime finds an old map, from the last holiday he took when he was still in college, and bought himself a ticket to Lys out of the blue. He almost completely forgot over business life that this was his last actual holiday, and a good one, actually. And as he sits there, going back over some of the good old memories, Jaime has to realize that he hasn’t taken any time for himself, hasn’t traveled – beside for work – in ages.

In a cloak-and-dagger operation, Jaime buys backpack, boots, tent, and whatever else he can gather, only to wind up by the Citizens Advice Bureau first chance he has to get the papers needed. After that, Jaime takes a taxi to King’s Landing Airport and wants to board the next-best plane he can catch, much to the irritation of the woman sitting behind the counter.

When asked to where he would like to go, Jaime simply replies, “Doesn’t matter. Just away from here. So long I can fly right now, I don’t care what the location is.”

And so, Jaime finds himself walking on Dornish soil soon thereafter.

Already at the airport, as he waits for his luggage to arrive, Jaime gets one confused phone call after the other from his family members, asking him where he is.

“Dorne. What would you want to do in Dorne?!”

“Making holidays,” Jaime replies simply, again and again.

“And you couldn’t have told anyone beforehand?”

“I got the last ticket.”

“When are you going to come back?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?! But Jaime…”

“As I said, I don’t know, and my bag just arrived. I am hanging up now, bye.”

Jaime reckons that the vacation will do him good, but he soon grows dissatisfied. Doing the usual tourist routines has him rather annoyed. Even the prospect of seeing some of the most beautiful sights Dorne has to offer has Jaime shockingly little excited. He thought that this would be it, that this is what he is seeking, but… it’s not.

The realization comes to Jaime one late night, watching a travel documentary on a small TV in his hotel room: He doesn’t need vacation, he needs to travel.

Thus, Jaime gets himself on a ferry to the Stepstones, from the Stepstones to the Grey Gallows, and from the Grey Gallows to Tyrosh, and so forth. On the way, Jaime buys himself a bunch of disposable cameras to take pictures with, and begins to do something that he didn’t do ever since the accident, namely to write – in a leather journal he bought on a small market in Dorne.

After all, no one is going to read his chicken scratch other than him.

However, not all is rosy on that journey, because Jaime has to realize far sooner than later that walking into this completely unprepared comes with a certain kind of thrill, but also a lot of troubles. Ending up in rat holes of hotels, having to camp out in the wilderness when the motels are all overbooked, only to realize that he never put up a tent in his life and thus failing miserably at the task, are only some of the troubles he encounters on that vacation.

At the same time, Jaime is thrilled to see all those new places, meet all sorts of people, taste different foods, and make experiences he never would have made, had he stayed home.

During his stay at Braavos, something catches his interest as he visits the Titan of Braavos, because there is one person in the mass of tourists taking pictures of the statue and following tourist guides around like geese, who seems not at all interested in the monument. The tall woman with blonde hair has not taken a single picture of the statue, Jaime observed, but instead took out her camera to take pictures of rather queer things, at least to Jaime’s mind: An ice cream cone dropped on the ground seems to have her particular interest.

Jaime feels very tempted to talk to her, but as he is about to do it, a youngster falls off the Titan’s toe after he had to climb on top of the statue, and everyone starts to fuss, so that Jaime loses the blonde woman in the crowd.

He travels to the next location, though the woman with brilliant blue eyes and an odd taste in objects of interest, remains on his mind all the while.

After a quite desperate phone call from his younger brother Tyrion, Jaime reluctantly agrees to check on his emails. For that matter, he gets into an internet café, because Jaime cannot properly read mails on his phone, and he purposely left his computer at home before he went on his vacation. After a quick check-in with reality awaiting him back home, Jaime decides that he is not yet ready to succumb to that life again, so he closes the tab and instead decides to use his remaining time at the café to browse the internet for traveler advices, groaning at some things he could easily have prevented, had he bothered to read up on the matter before just boarding a flight to Dorne.

In the course of his research, Jaime stumbles over a blog named The Traveler’s Guide of the Other Kind. And compared to most blogs he scrolled through, which were mostly focused on the person and his or her experiences, lots of pictures with nice InstaBran filters and what not, this blog’s title holds true. This one does not feature any pictures… of the person who is running this blog, let alone clues about his or her identity.

However, the blog is even more curious, because it doesn’t talk about what food to get where, or what sights are worth the voyage. Instead, the blog entries are largely about “The Small Things,” about sunsets in certain locations and at what times the light is the best, quite witty comments on the masses of people all doing the same thing “in strange sort of rituals, hailing statues, bridges, castles, and churches of faiths they do not even partake in, and all that with cameras and selfie sticks,” little anecdotes about people the author saw and observed, sometimes sarcastic, sometimes rather romantic.

Jaime would love to go on, but apparently, he kept reading the blog so long that the internet café is closing for the day. Nevertheless, he remains intrigued, so Jaime starts scrolling through the text posts on his phone once returned to his shabby motel.

Lying on his back in bed, he continues reading the posts that keep captivating him, finding it almost hilarious that some of the experiences and impressions written are so close to his own. Jaime drops his phone right in his face as it literally hits him that the author of the blog apparently features an entry on “The Tristful Chronicles of a Braavosi Ice Cream Cone,” with a picture of a dropped ice cream cone at the top, matching both the day and the location when Jaime saw that tall blonde woman taking pictures of that ice cream cone on the ground.

Jaime reckons that if he took the risk to abandon his entire life to go travelling, he might just as well take the risk to reach out to that woman who has been flitting across his mind ever since he saw her in Braavos.

What is the worse that can happen, right?

Thus, Jaime tries to type a comment, but ends up pushing the SEND-button before he could double-check, thus sending a message that is filled with typos and some really odd wordings. “Stupid hand!” Meanwhile, in a hotel room on New Ghis, Brienne is surprised to get a new comment on her “The Tristful Chronicles of a Braavosi Ice Cream Cone” entry, which did not have too many readers at all.

Not that Brienne bothers. She didn’t start the blog to gain followers, but simply wanted to have a place to gather her thoughts at. The message she receives now has her rather baffled, because… typos and rather a lot of gibberish stuffed into a short comment, but still readable enough for her to understand that the person who wrote this saw her back at the Titan and wondered until s/he found this blog what was so interesting about that ice cream cone.

Brienne is a bit shocked: She never posts pictures of herself, for the plain reason that she is ugly and doesn’t like to have her picture taken anyway. The thought that someone may out her is somewhat frightening to Brienne. After all, she tries to stay anonymous, just travels around, merges in with the background to observe.

Yet, she cannot resist replying, very cautiously so. However, to her even greater surprise, Brienne gets a reply almost instantly, and then another, and another, and she ends writing back each time.

Jaime and Brienne eventually message each other over the private message tool of the blog, which allows them to communicate more privately, discussing their travelling experiences, to where they have already gone, etc.

Sometime later, almost by accident, they find out that they are currently in the same location. So Jaime takes a chance and suggests to meet.

Brienne almost falls off her chair once she reads that message. Because that never happened, and she believed it impossible anyway. Brienne replies, truthfully, that she has to catch a flight that same day, later that evening. Jaime replies instantly that he wouldn’t care.

“We can meet up as long as we can until you have to fly again, I don’t mind.”

And so, they meet. The first handshake is all kinds of awkward once it dawns on them that they are two strangers who decided to meet based on some shared travel experiences. The beginning of the conversation is rather rocky, but once they start talking about journeys again, the two somehow ease into the situation. Jaime eventually find the courage to ask Brienne about why she takes those rather odd pictures and why they are the focus of her online travel guide. And so, Brienne explains: “To me, travelling is about seeing places, about witnessing them. And that is more than tasting the food, looking at the statues, the churches. It’s about watching people interact, about seeing children climb on top what is considered a cultural good. It’s about lost ice cream cones. Couples breaking up and proposing to one another in the cheesiest of ways. You know, I could have done it like most others do, focus on the obvious, the conventional. But I like to think that… that there is something beautiful in the unconventional, just like it is in what seems to be utterly unimportant because it is so very conventional.“

Jaime is thrilled about what he hears.

Suddenly, Brienne gets a call that her normal flight is going to be cancelled, but that she can still catch an earlier flight if she gets to the airport within two hours. Brienne excuses herself, explaining that she always wanted to see Old Valyria at the season, and knows she won’t catch a flight until they close down for the year. Jaime tells her that it’s fine and that he perfectly understands. Brienne is very apologetic – and a bit mournful because she can’t remember the last time she enjoyed a date that much.

As they prepare to part, Jaime tells her that he will be waiting for the next log entry on Old Valyria. Brienne gathers all of her confidence to offer him her telephone number, which Jaime takes more than gladly. The two part with a another awkward handshake, though really, they can’t help but think about one another once they are out of each other’s sight. Despite the fact that both are too stubborn to admit it.

And so, their journeys go separate ways again. Jaime wants to head further North while Brienne ventures through Old Valyria. Jaime is pleased to read an entry that alludes to their meeting and even a quote by him from their conversation. The two now start to talk over the phone, and as they continue travelling, try to beat one another in most unconventional places to have found, most curious experiences to have witnessed, or weirdest people they met, etc.

"Some boys like a challenge…”

They accidentally meet up again at an airport after both had their flights cancelled, so they are stuck for the night. The two are not sure whether to shake hands or hug, so yeah, it is awkward. They decide to get some drinks at the bar to pass the time. Jaime and Brienne come to talk about his injury and how that was the starting point for him to start that journey. Brienne lets on that she decided that it was time that she left home after Renly died and she had caved in at home far too long that it had her father worried.

“Sometimes you have to leave to find your way back home… I hope, at least.”

Once it’s time to say goodbye, Jaime suggests as casually as he can that they may want to try to end up in the same location some time, surprised when Brienne instantly recounts to where she is going and in what order, only to break out laughing when Jaime takes out his worn journal to see about his flight plans.

“Now, that is what I call old-fashioned,” she snorts.

"I call it traditional. Not all of us run fancy blogs, you know.”

“Well, blogs are also already outdated. Now it’s InstaBran stories that count. So perhaps we have something in common in that regard after all.”

They figure that the location following their next ones actually matches, so Jaime and Brienne agree to a “travel date.”

Then, at last, the time has come, and they are in the same location. They meet up at the airport, get themselves rooms in the same hotel. The two are thrilled to discover just how much they actually have in common, making their very own tours, discussing their boring jobs and their exciting journeys, sharing takeaway in hotel rooms, and watching sunsets in the most curious of places together.

Jaime still can’t believe himself that he just follows through with this new kind of life, almost eloping with a woman he barely knows but feels as though he has known her for years already. He wouldn’t have done things in that way back in the “old life.”

And for Brienne, it’s also the first time she even considered a man in that way after Renly’s death.

Of course, they continue to challenge one another. Jaime has to do things with his right arm upon her insistence, while Jaime takes out his “even more old-fashioned than the journal” disposable camera and challenges Brienne to have him take her picture, one of which he secretly adds to his journal.

And on a journey of self-discovery, they discover each other, eventually giving in to their undeniable attraction for one another. The two want to go on travelling, but eventually decide to go together, rearranging plans so that they can take the same route.

It is like a journey to heaven. Seeing different places, kissing under sights, taking pictures of the small things, reading through each other’s log entries, even lying next to each other in shabby hotel rooms with uncomfortable mattresses feels divine.

However, the journey comes to a sudden halt when Jaime runs into Tyrion, who has tracked him down upon their father’s order, explaining to the older brother that Tywin’s patience has worn thin and that if Jaime does not return any time soon, he will no longer provide for Jaime’s travelling – or anything else for the matter.

“And he is serious, I am telling you.”

Heartbroken, Jaime talks to Brienne about the latest revelation, but he is surprised that she shows such great understanding for his situation, even encouraging him to go back home. “You are loyal to your family. I am loyal to my father. I get this, I do, Jaime. We don’t get to choose.”

While both say that they can meet up again and that Brienne may want to travel to Casterly Rock some time soon, both know that their travel romance has come to an abrupt end.

Begrudgingly, Jaime makes his way back into the old life, feeling utterly miserable about himself, which does not go unnoticed by his younger brother Tyrion, though he does not know about Jaime’s heartache for his former travelling companion, because the older brother did not want to involve Brienne into his family’s mess any more than he already did.

Brienne is not faring much better. Her thoughts revolve around Jaime all the while, too, which she realizes in a number of posts she deletes that almost exclusively speak of heartache and Jaime, Jaime, Jaime. She has to realize that being alone and anonymous is not that great when you finally found someone who knows and understands you. Then, being alone and unconventional seems to ring so hollow.

Back in King’s Landing, Tyrion discovers his brother’s journal eventually.

After some serious deciphering of the chicken scratch, Tyrion must say that Jaime’s journal is an entertaining read, if not a profitable one. He gets into contact with publishers, and they seem to share his opinion, because it is only a little while from now that Jaime’s journal entries are getting published as a travel guide – after some just as serious editing through his younger brother, of course.

Brienne meanwhile, on her continuous voyage towards the Isle of Faces, which is supposed to be her last stop on the journey before going home to Tarth again, stumbles across a bookstore, where they feature a book with Jaime’s picture on the title page. Stunned, she buys the next best copy she can grab, devouring the journal as she roams through the streets of Oldtown.

Not only is she surprised that Jaime apparently went into publishing, after he teased her all the while for telling the whole world about her experiences, “even though you claim to be so shy, wench,” but she is also caught off-guard by some many log entries alluding to her. While the book was edited so not to give her identity away, something that Jaime likely insisted on for her sake, she finds herself near tears at some of the later entries speaking about how the shared voyage with her proved to be the best part of the whole journey.

“It was during that time that I saw in myself the man I wanted to be. That part of my voyage is the one that changed my world – for the better. That one person I met… changed everything, turned my whole voyage of life upside-down, and I loved every second of it. And to this day, I come to regret that it didn’t last longer. I wish I was still out there, every day.”

Brienne calls up Jaime once she is back in her hotel room, to congratulate him on his latest success. Jaime explains rather sheepishly that he didn’t know “until it was too late” that Tyrion took the journal to publishers behind his back.

“Now my own face is haunting me in every bookstore. I think I have to go incognito.”

“Fake moustache?”

“Maybe.”

They talk about Brienne’s plans, and how far she has come by now. Brienne tells him that she is “just that close” to get through with the locations she planned on visiting, to arrive at the Isle of Faces as her “final piece in the puzzle.”

“So? What are you going to do with your newly acquired status as a popular traveler journalist?“ Brienne teases, if only to distract from herself – and her apparent heartache at the thought that she will finish the journey alone, because the two actually made plans to go to the Isle of Faces together.

But then reality called back and all was over.

“Laughing myself silly because I hated reading since a young age, and now I am supposedly a writer. Well, at least you can make some money with those guides. So maybe you should start as well.”

“I think I will pass.”

“Says the popular blogger.”

“I am not popular at all, and I pride myself with that,” she argues.

“Would be too mainstream for you anyway.”

Towards the end of the conversation, Jaime blurts out saying “I miss you… I… I miss us.”

”… Me, too,” Brienne replies hastily. “But… well, travelers undergo voyages. That is what we do. We don’t know where we end up. The journey is the goal. And that means we sometimes end up… in different places, it seems.”

Jaime wants nothing but get out of the family company, his mind keeps going back to the Isle of Faces, and most importantly – Brienne, whereas Brienne’s thoughts on her voyage keep revolving less and less around the Isle of Faces and more and more about the travel partner she lost back when he went to the capitol to return to “real life.”

Things may take another turn when Jaime’s brother makes a proposal, but whether that is going to pan out, only time will show.

Because as corny as it may sound, life is a journey.

And it is yet to be determined whether Jaime and Brienne will get a chance to go on that journey together, or will continue to be swept to different shores…

#jaime x brienne #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #wacky tries gimp #fanfic

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goneshe · 6 years

Note

Five times kissed - misguidcdghosts for Audrey. Even tho we haven’t actually done anything with them yet 😂😂 but we’ve discussed and rlly it’s everything SO

five times kissed // accepting // @misguidcdghosts (for audrey)

one: scream!au

“oh my gosh, it’s you.”

at first, audrey wanted to sigh. having people from in and out of town come in here and exclaim something like ‘it’s you!’ when they saw her behind the counter had gotten really old, really fast. in fact, it was tiring her out and pissing her off. she was sick of getting treated like a damn zoo exhibit just because she survived two murder sprees.

she really wanted to put piper and kieran (they’re both dead, those movies are over, roll the credits and leave the freakin’ theatre!) behind her and she couldn’t do that when—

“you’re the one didi writes poetry about.”

—wait, what?

the tiny indian girl - audrey estimated her age to be around fourteen - had a toothy smile that could rival the sun and big, brown eyes. the red haired girl next to her, all blue eyes, freckles and scrapes on her arms, rolled her eyes: “sorry about madhavi. ever since her older sister broke up with her boyfriend and it didn’t work out with a family friend, she’s obsessed with playing match-maker.”

it was a slow day and so far, those two had been one of the few costumers of the day so audrey could indulge them. for once.

“don’t worry,” madhavi beamed at her, “she likes your butt and your fancy hair. i’ve read it in her diary!”

that was, apparently, the redhead’s cue to tightly grasp her friend’s hand in hers and swipe the tickets off the counter with her other hand: “oookaaaay, that’s about it! we’re just here to see descendants two, madhu, not to start a dating service! c’mon, let’s go!”

“but georgette!” madhu whined while her friend dragged her away from the counter. “georgie!”

audrey chuckled to herself when she heard the redhead - georgie - huff: “lilo and stitch, really?” and called after them, just in case they didn’t know or forgot: “it’s the first door on your left!”

georgette was the one who called back while madhu sulked: “thank you!”

one hour later, the door chimed again. audrey briefly looked up from refilling the popcorn machine before continuing with the task at hand while her blue eyes occasionally flitted from the popcorn machine and the huge bag in her hand to the girl.

the girl that walked in was, without a doubt, madhu’s older sister. she had the same brown eyes, warm like her favorite quilt, except audrey had seen a penchant for mischief in madhu’s eyes earlier and there was none of that to be found in the eyes of the kid’s sister.

audrey’s heart lurched painfully as she thought of rachel and gina. one dead, the other out of her life completely.

(while she understood where gina’s fear and the way she reacted to that fear came from, she’d been tired of constantly having to justify why she spent time with emma and brooke. so they had broken up a few months ago, which was…something gina hadn’t expected.)

what if the same thing happened to other girls she would ever date? what if things wouldn’t work out?what if they, too, would die because of her? fuck, those thoughts made her sick to her stomach.

the girl had moved to sit down on the nearest chair, effectively snapping audrey out of her thoughts. the girl had been looking at her, concern written all over her face. audrey stopped filling up the popcorn machine and promptly hauled the huge bag back towards the storage room.

“you’re early, the movie’s done in about fifteen minutes.”

it’s not at all what audrey wanted to say when she came back to the counter but she couldn’t stand the silence. the girl didn’t seem to have that problem, up until audrey spoke, she’d been softly singing along to dua lipa’s thinking about you.

brown eyes met blue and the girl blushed but flashed audrey a warm smile nevertheless.

“well yeah,” said the girl, “that’s true but i’d rather be too early than too late anyway.”

the last time she flirted with someone during work was the time haley stayed behind when she worked the graveyard shift and then haley decided to pull a prank on her and because of that haley’s idiot of an accomplice got stabbed, audrey knew, but was it too late to quip about how she also knew that the slender fingers that were currently tapping along to the beat of a new song also wrote poetry?

“i’ve got a thing for you.”

audrey’s head snapped back towards her so fast it was a miracle she didn’t get a whiplash.

a million things ran through audrey’s head ranging from a flirty that’s forward of you to a surprised wow and okay and somehow none of these things made it past the lump in her throat.

“in, uh, the literal sense of the word,” added the girl quietly as she got up and walked towards the counter. oh. with a strangely deflated feeling in her chest, audrey briefly glanced away while the girl rummaged through the pockets of her jacket and fished out a small envelope.

she slid it over the counter. their hands briefly touched. audrey took the small envelope, which brought a grin back to her face. “that’s adorable.” she tucked the envelope into the pocket of her jeans and tried to ignore how much her heart hammered in her chest from just that simple touch.

“i try,” chuckled the girl as audrey willed herself to look into her eyes instead of at her lips. “i hope you’ll like it.”

audrey was going to say something else but the door chimed once more and other costumers came in while the door on the far left opened and a lot of parents, older siblings and kids made their way towards the door.

“is your name didi, by any chance?” audrey asked quickly because ever since she met her kid sister, the question’s been eating at her.

“no,” the girl grinned now, all teeth and gentle eyes filled with mirth. “it’s mohini, but mo is the nickname most people know me by. didi means older sister in hindi.”

and that was as far as their conversation went: audrey had to help the other costumers and mo saw georgie and madhu in the crowd and quickly waved them over, asking them if they had fun. georgie nodded: “evie was so pretty!” madhu was quick to agree, “so was uma!”

mo glanced at a very busy audrey for the last time and then steered the two girls towards the door.

later, when audrey came home, half exhausted but also exhilarated, she changed out of her work clothes and into something more comfortable. the tiny envelope had fallen to the floor and audrey picked it up. her mouth was dry when she opened it and her fingers shook.

she walks, draped in moonlight, with the kind of grace i could never possess.eyes as blue as the sea and skies combined, i must confess, keep me up at night.her smile shines just as bright as the sun. yet her name, i know it not.

there’s a lot of things that i don’t know about you and there are plenty that i want to ask, should we ever meet again, but until that moment, i’ve written a list for you about the things you may want to know about me:

1) as stated before, i’m mohini banerjee. most, if not all, people call me mo.2) i really do want to get to know you better.3) i think that you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen.4) this is my number, call me if you’re interested. or if you need a friend and just want to hang out. i swear, i won’t send you any cat memes either way.5) i’m in a band and i’m the bassist.6) i can’t draw smileys. i can’t draw at all, actually.7) i’m sorry, i got distracted by the mere thought of you and the way you make sarcasm seem like art; this poem started off strong but ended up all over the place :P

before she fell asleep, audrey saw that the poem was signed and sealed with a kiss.

come morning, however, audrey would wake up to a text from an unknown number: how cute, says the first one, maybe i should cut off her fingers one by one, says the second text, so she’ll never write for you again.

two: harry potter!au

mo’s breath caught her throat the moment slughorn revealed the batch of amortentia to the class. shit, shit, shit shit. she’s always been more susceptible to potions that can alter one’s emotional state.

what a ravenclaw she was. had mo not gotten lost in a daze of mangoes, fresh books and leather jackets, she would have laughed at herself.

she knew how amortentia worked, after all. she knew how the potion managed to get such a visceral reaction from everyone. her parents worked as potioneers when they still lived in india. she’s been around them from day one. then they relocated to the uk and mr. and mrs. banerjee started a grocery store for wizards and witches and wixens.

“mohini,” audrey’s voice cut through the daze like a sharp knife and it was only then that mo became aware of the slytherin’s hand on her shoulder. “c’mon, the lesson ended ten minutes ago.”

her eyes cut from audrey’s concerned face, back to the cauldron. “you’re super pretty,” breathed the oldest banerjee, “even when you’re worried.” rationally, mo supposed that she could understand why audrey had been worried but really, the potion smelled so nice…

“no, no, no,” audrey grabbed her by the hand now, “no more potion sniffing for you. let’s go.”

the pull of the potion lessened the more steps they took away from the dungeons. after a while, mo let go of audrey’s hand, who asked if she was all right for the final time and when mo nodded, audrey bid her adieu and went over to one brooke maddox - gryffindor extraordinaire - who had been waving at her short haired friend.

mo herself retreated back to the common room. or at least she wanted to but then imagined that she could run into rajiv kumar and noah foster (who had been an infamous hatstall between hufflepuff and ravenclaw) and promptly turned around, heading for the owlery.

she didn’t see audrey until dinner that evening. which was a good thing; it had given mo plenty of time to freak out, calm herself down and freak out once again when she told the story to her bandmates. it was olivia, emma duval’s niece, who gently told her that she ought to thank her.

if it hadn’t been for audrey, who knows what would have happened, right?

so here she was, walking towards the slytherin table which was dotted with red, yellow and blue as well; the rules about sitting at your own table? bullshit. according to them, anyway.

“um, audrey?” man, mo hated how pathetic she sounded. even to her own ears!

audrey was in the middle of telling or re-telling a story to noah but turned around at the sound of her voice: “what’s up?”

“i wanted to thank you. y’know, for back there,” mo inclined her head towards the dungeons.

noah arched an eyebrow as mo continued: “i mean, if i stood there for a moment longer, well…” she heard what mo had blurted out, hadn’t she? “…i just wanted to say thanks.” and before she lost her nerve, mo stepped closer, around the table, and kissed audrey on the cheek.

three: the tomorrow people au

“audrey, we just had a new breakout,” cara told the girl who was currently lounging on one of the many couches in the lair, an old and abandoned subway station under the streets of manhattan. “i need you to get to her before ultra does.”

why can’t brooke— audrey started to think but cara cut her off: “brooke is training with stella yamada and emma just found out that one of the newer breakouts is related to her. noah, jake and stavo are training scott, wendell and charlie respectively.” audrey scoffed and got up. honestly, fuck telepathy. and fuck this entire gig, she didn’t sign up for supernatural babysitting duties!

grabbing her jacket from where she’d thrown it over a chair, she called back over her shoulder: “where do i need to be?”

“hudson cliff. it’s an elementary school for sick kids and kids with learning disabilities.” what the hell? the last time they had such a young recruit, john rescued her from the citadel.

“oh, and audrey?”

“what?!”

“hurry.”

with a soft pop, audrey turned on her heels and then she was gone. she appeared in the old, abandoned subway station and rushed to the surface. top-side, they all called it. with cara literally in her head and the fact that she knew the route by heart, audrey got to the elementary school in what could be considered record time.

she’s inside, cara’s voice echoed, be careful, ultra’s already on her tail too. try to get to her before they do but if it gets too hot, i want you out of there, understood?

yeah, like that was going to happen. audrey scoffed again. quieter, this time. she was here now. might as well stick it out to the bitter end.

a loud scream shattered audrey’s telepathic reply to cara into a thousand tiny pieces and the ultra agents sent to subdue the new breakout came flying out of the nearest classroom, their guns skidding across the hallway as they smacked into the wall and slid down to the floor where they laid, in a crumpled heap, unmoving.

another scream. the hairs on the back of audrey’s neck stood on edge. she was ready to fight or flee if necessary. audrey stepped over the threshhold and that was as far as she got.

“no! stay back! stay back!”

in the middle of the classroom sat a girl about her own age, tears and blood splatters all over her, cradling another girl into her arms. a kid, audrey realized while her stomach churned and she almost gagged. fuck, she was going to be sick.

how she got the words out, she didn’t know: “i’m…my name is audrey jensen. i’m—i’m like you. and you’re not safe here. shit, i know it’s the last thing you want to do right now but i need you to come with me now. more men like the ones that are now lying in the hallway are coming for you and they won’t stop until they have you. they work for an organization called ultra and i’m so fucking sorry for your loss and i hate to do this but we need to go.”

“let them come,” snarled the girl. her eyes met audrey’s and for a brief moment, their minds connected and audrey was awash in a whirlwind of emotions, primarily consisting of years of anger and a whole lot of grief and sadness and pain. pain, pain, pain that was hers and wasn’t hers at all. “let them,” the girl repeated again, “i’ll kill them, it’s what they deserve. it’s what they all deserve for killing my younger sister!” hindi swears spilled over her lips like a waterfall.

tears ran down her cheeks and she looked like she was struggling containing another scream.

a memory that wasn’t hers flitted before audrey’s eyes; the little girl took her hands and pulled her towards central park, crowing that she finally managed to make it across on the monkey bars and that she wanted to show her: “c’mon, mohini! i practiced real hard!” it was like a butterfly or a snowflake; one moment it was there and then it was gone but it was enough to have tears spring to audrey’s eyes. she blinked them away and cleared her throat.

cara, audrey’s eyes flashed from the crying girl on the floor to the remnants of what was once a well kempt classroom. i’m here. the new breakout killed two ultra agents after they killed her younger sister.

audrey heard cara curse in her head. she heard it so clearly that the brunette might as well have been standing right next to her: do you think you can make it back with her on your own? russell needs my help with something else. if not, i can send stephen to meet you halfway.

no, audrey thought, it’s okay, i got this. but do tell stephen that he needs to pick up the…the kid. fuck, they killed a kid, cara! they killed a fucking kid! she’s, what, seven?! they got to a kid!

cara told her that she was sorry and that they’d talk about it when the two would get back to the lair but as of right now, the fact remained that audrey had twenty minutes left. the clock was still ticking and ultra was still hot on their heels. she swallowed audibly and knelt down. gently, she placed a hand on her shoulder. the girl, whose name audrey now knew, flinched visibly.

“it’s mohini, right?” audrey’s voice was low, hopefully soothing and almost a whisper.

“most people call me mo,” she croaked back, “but yeah, it’s mohini.” she sniffed. her eyes met audrey as she said: “we can’t leave her here. she needs to be cremated. and my parents—”

oh gods, her parents. what would her parents say?! what would her family do if they found out about this?!

long black hair shielded mo’s face like a curtain as her body shook with barely contained sobs.

after giving her a hug, audrey brushed mo’s hair back and gave her a kiss on the forehead. she didn’t know what else to do or to say. it was something that her mother used to do, before she got sick.

“we can’t leave her here,” mo repeated, quieter, as if all the life had been drained from her too.

“we won’t,” audrey assured her and gently helped her stand up. mohini carried her sister to the bed in the corner and tucked her in. it looked like the little girl - madhavi, or madhu as those close to her called her - was merely sleeping instead of dead. “i know someone who will make sure your sister gets back to your parents in time for the…the cremation, i swear.” mo nodded. “c’mon,” audrey said and swung an arm around mo’s shoulders. “let’s get you outta here.”

four: teen wolf au

while the jensen family wasn’t as esteemed as the calavera family or the argents, they were still good hunters - mrs. jensen had been from a prominent hunting family too - in their own right. though her mother put the hunting life behind her when she got pregnant and then again when she got sick, her father continued on for a while; he even taught his daughter the basics.

just so she could protect herself while he retired. audrey took to it like a fish to water. after rachel died, she swore to herself that she would do everything in her power to avenge her and to protect her group of friends consisting of a banshee (brooke), a werewolf (jake), a human much like herself (noah), another huntress (emma) and someone with a penchant for drawing horror scenes who was something else but didn’t exactly know what (stavo).

and things were all right until they weren’t because this is beacon hills and, inevitably, shit goes down here. this town had weathered many storms, this town would continue to do so. but all of that would wait, for beacon hills would have to deal with a supernatural band first.

stella yamada was a kitsune. brooke got the information out of her easily with a smile and a wink, an offer to stella that sounded like sure, i’ll totally help you familiarize yourself with beacon hills; i’d love to hang out with you! which was not only a way to help out audrey but also because the blonde truly wanted to hang out with her.

her father was one too, stella had said, munching on curly fries. after the death of his previous partner, he spent a long time mourning her before he eventually found love with leila penn and gained not only a second chance at love but a bigger family; leila, who was as human as they came, had split up with her ex-husband and won custody over her two youngest boys, tim and tom, while their oldest girl - clea - occasionally dropped by to visit.

olivia white was a huntress that wasn’t cut out for that life at all. soft and pliant and sweet, she spent her time reading and researching and had taken to helping out doctor deaton’s and the cats and dogs - but mostly just cats in her spare time. she was also related to emma who learned how to handle a gun because it became a matter of life and death back in lakewood.

then there was scott pickett who was, much like noah, as human as they came. but he was quick as a whip and quite knowledgable when it came to lore and surprisingly easy going. he and wendell “wen” gifford, a leprechaun, were nine times out of ten, the brains behind plans.

charles “charlie” delgado easily befriended stavo. other than their heritage and a love for comic books, they had other things in common. charlie was sure he was something other than human but he wouldn’t be able to tell you just what he is if you asked him.

lastly, there was mohini “mo” banerjee. named for one of vishnu’s avatars and skilled with a bass guitar, noah thought she was a garuda at first. an avian shapeshifter. he wasn’t wrong. while mo wasn’t an avian shapeshifter, she was a shapeshifter in every other sense of the word. you see, mo was an apsara - a shapeshifter with an extra pair of arms that could look like any other person out there, though their voice, abilities and gait remained the same.

“the apsaras of old could probably fly and control the air with less difficulty. i can’t do either. my mom can fly, though, and i’m pretty sure that my younger sister’s going to surpass me one day.” her father, a gandharva - which was like the male equivalent of an apsara - had no flying abilities to speak of either, mo added after a while, but he was musically inclined.

“what can you do?” asked audrey while mo continued to gently move the huntress’ fingers about, lacing their fingers together. mo shrugged: “i can sense changes in the weather and i’m pretty good with instruments.” audrey didn’t understand why her hands enthralled mohini so; they had been stained with death and had seen cruelty and violence too many fucking times.

mo pressed a kiss on both hands before she let go of them. “just call me your personal weather woman.”

audrey laughed, thoughts of weaponry and the next threat to becon hills were forgotten for a while.

five: no killer!au

olivia had been right, mo thought, the carnival really was the perfect way to spend their off season. this way, she could get to know her aunt and niece a little better and stella had been begging - well, not really, but olivia knew how much the lead guitarist wanted this gig - to play at lakewood’s annual carnival with their original numbers and covers.

and really, the other band members only had to look at their faces to give in, laughter on their own lips and fondness in their eyes. mo was one of the first ones to say okay to it all, the others soon following suit.

besides: winning an actual version of the battle of the bands, small though it was? against mikayla skeech and her own band? that would look great for their repertoire. (and mo was living for every moment that proved just how much talent lemonade mouth really had!)

that thought, as well as wen’s promise that he’d get her some cotton candy after their performance, kept mohini’s spirits higher than her height of 5′6″.

they had time to spare - more like time to kill, in mo’s opinion - so the band scattered, each one promising to be backstage half an hour before, just in case they needed to go through their set-list or just in case things changed. olivia reminded them all to keep their phones on.

(the carnival was also a way to remember nina patterson and her boyfriend tyler who passed away in a freak car accident at the start of the school year.)

“you look lost,” chuckled a voice to her right when mo passed the food stalls once again.

“don’t we all at some point?” was the first thing out of her mouth.

“i suppose.” the owner of the voice was a girl with short, black hair and a wide, sarcastic grin.

she was dressed in black, had the bluest eyes mo had ever seen, was shorter than the bassist and had a video camera on her person. lemonade mouth had been in the song business for a while now so cameras didn’t freak mohini out anymore. they used to, before.

“i’m audrey,” said the girl, “i’d shake your hand, but—” she was holding her video camera.

“mohini, though you can call me mo. and it’s okay, i’ll just shake your other hand.”

“that’s smart,” audrey drawled and mo winked: “i got sorted in ravenclaw on pottermore.”

“i don’t have any nicknames other than aud or auds,” she said, “and i’m not much of a harry potter fan but congratulations.” mohini shrugged, waving a little at audrey’s camera, “that’s cool. i prefer roshani chokshi anyways.” honestly, mo would sell her soul to write half as well as that lady.

they were silent for a while and then mo said: “if you’re still in the market for a nickname or two, i’d be happy to oblige. i do love a good challenge.” though, really, knowing her and her penchant for flowery words and sentences, audrey would probably go home with a poem about her and her name, filled to the brim with a thousand compliments and then some.

mohini’s phone buzzed. it was a text from charlie, saying that she needed to get to the main stage. she showed it to audrey who said: “maybe later, after your performance. that is, if you’re sticking around.” rachel hadn’t. they had broken up shortly after the start of the school year. it was a clean, mutual break up and it was for the better - rachel needed time and space to focus on herself and the way she saw herself and needed a change of scenery after the video - but audrey still missed her sometimes. they had been friends before they dated.

“oh, i am,” mo assured her, “i’ll be here for three weeks, if not more.”

another text. this time it was scott, wondering why she wasn’t responding and why she wasn’t on her way to the main stage already.

“you should go.”

“i should. will you be there when lemonade mouth takes your little town by storm?”

“sure,” audrey grinned widely at mo as the latter finally stood up. “i can’t not check you guys out. you look like a bassist.” blue eyes met brown. audrey blew mo a kiss after she said: “and, y’know, i’m pretty sure i’ll see you around either way. break a leg out there, will you? i really don’t like mikayla skeech and the scene.”

#misguidcdghosts #( ooc answers. )#long post //#child death //#death mention //#blood mention //#teen wolf //#{this is the longest thing i've ever written and i'm D: at myself because i'm never happy so i'm gonna make an older lm photoset to distract #myself xD}

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hamitome--imagines · 7 years

Text

All the Letters You Wrote Me

* Laurens × shy!SchuylerSister!reader * Hamiltime * 179: I’ve never felt this way about anyone before…and it scares the shot out of me. * Requested by @fangirlwithasweettooth

A/N: ok since it’s early morning for me, it’s probably not night for anyone else. And for that I apologize. I added more to it then I originally planned. Also the title is misleading as it has almost nothing to do with letters. Oops. But it’s done and it’s up! Enjoy!

Word Count: 3,049

“Come on Y/N!” You older sister Eliza urged. “You too Peggy!” She was currently dragging both of you through the town. Even though your dad specifically said not to go downtown.

“Daddy said to be home by sundown.” You tried.

“Daddy doesn’t need to know.” You older sister Angelica said from where she was leading the three of you.

“Daddy said not to go downtown.” Your little sister Peggy tried to say.

“Like I said, you’re free to go.” Eliza told her.

“But this will be much more fun.” Angelica said. You and Peggy weren’t very outgoing. Yes you loved spending time with your sisters but they were more personable. Peggy just didn’t want to do wrong. But you? You were very shy. When Angelica, Eliza, and eventually Peggy would be talking to people, you shut down and got quiet. They tried getting you to open up but it never worked. Though you could hold your own as well as your sisters.

“What you doing in the city in your fancy heels? You searching for an urchin you can give you ideals?” Burr asked your sister. You nose wrinkled up in annoyance.

“Burr your disgust me.” Angelica told him.

“Ah so you’ve discussed me?” He tried again. “I’m a trust fund baby, you can trust me.” All three of your sisters and you gave him a bewildered look. Angelica quickly shrugged him off.

You spent the rest of the day wandering the streets of downtown. It was a little fun, only the thrill of doing something you’re not supposed to. One thing you enjoyed about downtown was watching the guys. You weren’t brave enough to talk to any of them, but you could watch them. You got your attention captured by a man with curly hair pulled into a ponytail. You didn’t even realize you were staring at him.

“Go talk to him.” Eliza urged, suddenly coming up beside you.

“What? No, it’s fine.” You said, embarrassed someone caught you.

“You may never see him again and he could be the love of your life.” Eliza tried again.

“Or he could think I’m really weird for coming up to talk to him randomly. And if he’s the love of my life, I’m sure I’ll see him again. Now let’s head home. Dad will kill us if we miss curfew again.” You said, quickly changing the subject. — “I don’t want to go!” You whined. Your father had been invited to a ball and you and your sisters were going. Only you didn’t want to.

“Even I want to go.” Peggy said.

“Well you’re outgoing. I’m gonna spend the whole time by myself and not talking to anyone. That’s what happens when you’re shy.” You complained. You were stood in your room with Eliza and Peggy, both were trying to convince you that the Washington Winter Ball would be fun. You hated parties though. You always ended up along one of the walls alone and tried to be unnoticed. You didn’t enjoy being alone but you preferred it over talking to strangers.

“Then I’ll help you.” Angelica said, suddenly appearing. She starting looking through the gowns in your closet. “You’ll look absolutely stunning and I won’t leave your side until you’ve captivated some guy’s attention.”

“But I want you to enjoy the evening too.” You told her.

“Don’t worry Y/N. Once you get past hello it’s easy.” She told you.

“It doesn’t seem easy.” You grumbled.

“Here. Put this dress on.” Angelica ordered, holding out the mass of fabric. Your sister knew you too well. It was an elegant dress the fit you well. It was also very breathable and comfortable, which was always better when you were nervous. So you grabbed it from her and went about putting on all the layers. Angelica was already prepared for the ball so she spent the evening helping you get ready.

After getting dressed, she helped you with your hair. She pinned it up but allowed a few strands to hang loose and frame your face. Then she added some light make-up to enhance your features. “There.” She said as she finished and stepped back. “Stunning.” Then she shrugged. “But that’s no different than usual.”

“Thanks Angie.” You said with a smile.

“Anything for my little sis.” She responded. Peggy and Eliza ran into the room.

“Father is ready when ever we are.” Peggy announced. So you all climbed into a carriage together to go to Mount Vernon.

“So who else is excited to meet some soldiers?” Angelica started gushing.

“Seriously Angelica?” Eliza asked her with a slight laugh.

“Oh come on! You know that a majority of boys there tonight will be some soldiers. And there’s something about a guy in a uniform.” She said. You laughed at your eldest sister. However, she turned out to be right. Almost all of the men present were wearing blue coats, the sure sign of a soldier.

Peggy and Eliza flitted off almost immediately. “Aren’t you gonna run off to find a soldier?” You asked Angelica.

“Not until we find you one.” She said and slung her arm over your shoulders. Then Eliza found her way back over.

“Y/N, follow me.” She said and grabbed your arm. She led you through the crowd and came to a stop. “Look.” She said and pointed across the room. You looked and saw the man from downtown a few weeks back. He was much closer than before and you could see some freckles. His curls were pulled back into a slightly poofy pony tail. You could only stare.

The man laughed at something another man had said. He glanced around and noticed you staring. He gave you a crooked smile and a small wave. Your eyes widened and you cheeks went pink. You lifted your hand in a weak wave. He smiled wider and you quickly looked down at your shoes. “I think he likes you.” Angelica sing-songed.

“I think he was just being nice.” You mumbled.

“Hm…let’s find out.” Angelica said and left your side. You looked up to see her approaching the soldier. Your stomach twisted nervously as she started talking to him. He smiled and nodded at something. Then Angelica started walking back toward you.

“Nope. I can’t do it. I gotta go.” You mumbled to Eliza.

“Oh no. You’re staying here.” Eliza chided and held onto your wrist. You got more nervous being unable to run.

“These are my sisters. Eliza and Y/N.” Angelica said as she approached.

“And I need to go find Peggy.” Eliza said and scurried off.

The man looked confused but shrugged it off. “Well, pleasure to meet you Y/N.” The man said and held out a hand. You placed your hand in his, eyes cast downward. “I’m John Laurens.” He raised your hand to his lips to pressed a soft kiss to the back. You cheeks went pink once more. “Can you honor me with a dance?” He asked. You nodded mutely.

He smiled widely and led you to the dance floor. He spun you around and chattered nonsense for a while. Eventually you slowed to a stop as a song ended. “Am I boring you?” He asked.

“Huh?”

“Well, we’ve been dancing and I’ve been trying to talk but you haven’t said anything back.” He said with a shrug. “I can leave if you want.”

“No its not that!” You assured him. “I’m just really shy. I don’t really know what to say and I don’t really talk to strangers well but I really like dancing with you and your endless chatter was really funny and-”

“Y/N.” John said, getting your attention and cutting off your rambling with a smile. “Let’s keep dancing.” He offered. You smiled and let him continue to lead you through the steps. You danced with him most of the night. Whenever you needed a break, he’d stay to the side with you. You opened up a little bit through the night, but you were still too shy to say much.

The night was drawing to a close and John was still at your side. Angelica huffed as she came back over. “Well at least two of my baby sisters hooked up.” She said. You blushed. You and John weren’t any form of offical.

“Who’d Eliza find?” You asked having seen Peggy alone only a few minutes ago.

“His name is Alexander Hamilton.” She answered.

“Seriously? That’s the closest friend I got.” John said with a small laugh. “Imagine that.” He added, nudging you lightly. It pulled a small, shy smile from you.

Angelica looks between you two. “Ya know, Alexander is going to start writing Eliza. Are you going to be receiving any letters Y/N?” She asked, knowing the answer at this point is no.

“Oh well…I don’t know.” You mumbled but glared at her.

“Trust me, she opens up a lot more if she’s writing.” Angelica told John.

“And she is still standing here.” You quipped.

“Well in that case.” John turned to look at you. “Would she give me the honor of writing?” He asked, emphasizing it as a joke. One that made you smile. You nodded happily. — Angelica was right. You were more open over letters. You and John would have personal conversations, even if it was over paper. Even though you’ve met him once, you really cared for him. Writing letters took away the face to face. You couldn’t see his reactions so you didn’t fear it as much. Sure it wasn’t as intimate but it was still personal. You were finishing up your latest letter to him.

‘Reply as soon as you find the time.

I lo-’

You stilled. You couldn’t do that. You couldn’t admit that in a letter. You growled in annoyance.

-ng to see you again.

Your’s truly, Y/N’

You sighed as you stuffed the letter in an envelope. Angelica walked into the room. “I’ve never seen anyone so annoyed about writing to their lover.” She said.

“John Laurens isn’t my lover. We haven’t even said the L-word.” You said.

“Really?” Angelica asked.

“I want to say it but I can’t put it in a letter.” You sighed.

“Then you’ll need to tell him in person.” Angelica said with a shrug. “Now come on. Eliza needs some support right now. Alexander is asking father if he can marry her.”

So you and your sisters sat with Eliza, who was so anxious. She was anxious until Alexander came and found her with a large smile on his face. She laughed and ran forward as he wrapped her in a hug. — You smiled as you watched John and his friends tease Alexander. He came back over to you as Aaron Burr walked up to Alexander. John smiled at you and slung his arm over your shoulder. “Hey John?” You asked.

“Yeah?”

“Can we talk? Privately?” You asked meekly.

“Yeah, sure.” He said. He led you off to the corner of the room, away from all the party-goers. “What do you need?” He asked calmly.

“I need to talk to you.” You started trying to gain some courage. You were so nervous. This was way outside of your comfort zone.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. “Is this about…us?” He asked hesitantly.

“Yeah actually.” You said and he started looking worried. “Oh it’s not bad!” You said quickly.

“It’s not?”

“No. I don’t want to leave you, not at all. In fact I…” You paused again. You had to say it but you couldn’t. It wasn’t that you were scared but you definitely worried about John’s reaction. He noticed your anxiety and pulled you into hug. He ran his fingers through your hair.

“You can tell me anything. You know that.” John pulled back slightly and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I…” You took a step back and stared at your feet. “I love you.” You mumbled, apparently too quietly.

“You what?” John asked crouching down to try to catch your gaze.

You took a deep breath but refused to look up at John. You couldn’t stand to watch his reaction. “I love you.” You said again, a bit louder and more clear. John didn’t say anything so you cautiously looked up at him. He was smiling widely, beaming at you.

“I love you too.” He leaned closer but paused. “I uh…can I kiss you?” He asked cautiously. You smiled and nodded. He leaned down and pressed his lips softly to yours. He kissed you softly and sweetly. One arm was wrapped lightly around your waist. His other hand was pressing between your shoulder blades. You were gripping the front of his blue coat. He pulled back and stared at you with a smile. “You know, I wanted to tell you that I love you for a long time now. I just didn’t want to freak you out.”

“I wanted too also, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell you in a letter. So I had to do it in person.” You said. “Even though that was the scariest thing I’ve ever done.”

John leaned down to kiss you softly once more. “Well you did it. Now I can say I love you all I want.” He kissed you once again. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You said with a small giggle. — The war was over. Alexander had been home for weeks. Lafayette and Hercules had even come over to check in with you and your sisters. None of them had heard from John since he left for South Carolina. You were a little worried, of course. War meant you could lose those you cared about. John had managed to find a new side of you, a more open side. You didn’t want to lose him or that side.

You were sat in your room, re-reading John’s letters to you. You had a small smile on your face as you read his sweet words to you. Then there was a knock on the door. Angelica stuck her head in. “Hey, dad wants you downstairs in the foyer.” She informed you.

So you left your room and headed for the stairs. You bounded down and went to the foyer. You froze as you rounded the corner and walked in. John stood there, patiently waiting with a small smile, a smile that grew when he saw you. You let out a small squeal and ran forward and jumped into his arms. He laughed with you as he lifted you and spun you around.

“You’re ok!” You exclaimed happily when he set you down.

“Of course. For you.” He said with a smile and followed by a short kiss. “And I have something I need to ask you.” He said.

“What would that be?” You inquired.

And John dropped to one knee and pulled a ring from his pocket and held it out to you. “You may be shy, but I got to know you. You were open to me and I think that means something. So, will you do me the honor of becoming me wife?”

You were shocked but didn’t hesitate to respond. “Yes!” — Dress? Check. It was beautiful and flattering. You felt gorgeous in it.

Bridesmaids? Check. Angelica was your maid of honor since she got you and John talking.

Groom? Check. That was the main thing, John was here and so we’re his groomsmen. Alexander was his best man.

The one thing not in check? Your nerves. It’s a wedding. It’s promising your life to another. If it were just you and John, you’d be fine. But it’s your entire family as well as John’s. There’s so many people watching. And it was nerve wracking.

Angelica poked her head in the room you were waiting in. “Ready?” She asked happily. You looked over at her and she must have noticed the fear in your features because she stepped inside the room. “What’s wrong?”

“I…I’m just so nervous. I love John, I really do. But I’m so scared of going up there and in front of everyone and saying my vows.” You admitted.

Angelica gave you a small smile. Her wedding was a few months ago. She walked closer and grabbed your hands. “Y/N, I promise you this. You feel so nervous just before those doors open. Then, your eyes will land on John and everything else will disappear. It will be just the two of you.” She pulled you into a quick hug. “Now go marry that solider of yours.”

So you stood with your father, anxious for the doors to open. You heard the organ begin the traditional wedding march then the heavy wooden doors were opened. The knot in your stomach tightened. Everyone was going stare at you and watch. Then you locked eyes with John through your veil.

His eyes were a bit misty but he was smiling. Everything else did, in fact, seem to disappear. John was all you could focus on. You blushed under his gaze and cast a glance down at your shoes. You took a deep breath and looked back up. He smiled widely at you once more. You stood in front on John, staring at him the whole time. You spoke when prompted and said your “I do’s”

“I now pronounce you Mr and Mrs John Laurens. You may kiss the bride.” The priest said. John smiled widely again. He leaned in and pressed a short kiss to your lips. He pulled back slightly and gazed at you.

“I love you John Laurens.” You whispered, as quiet as you had said it the first time, but much more confidently this time. However, now he was close enough to hear and smiled.

“I love you too Y/N Laurens.” He said, using your shared last name for the first time. You smiled as you heard it. The organ started playing, breaking you and John from your mentally created solitude. You turned and walked out of the chapel, arms hooked together. You had changed so much with John at your side. There were still times you were shy and quiet but John was beside you, now and forever. You had nothing to be shy about with him at your side.

#hamilton #hamilton imagine #john x reader #john laurens x reader #john laurens imagine #John Laurens

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arefallingforus-blog · 7 years

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And All I Find Is You (SL With @ProveILoveYou)

Star: ^Being professional was one thing. Being professional while working in the same building as your husband had the tendency to get a little dicey. But somehow, Austin and I handled it. It wasn’t like we could go around kissing each other whenever we wanted. We knew the rules. The kids couldn’t see us being affectionate. It wasn’t a hidden fact that Austin and I were married. The kids tended to love it. It was a question I got asked every year. “Mrs. DeWitt, how did you and Mr. DeWitt meet?” It was a simple answer. We were both artists. It was two different kinds of art, but artists appreciated each other. It didn’t matter the platform. I used paint, charcoal, chalk, or anything I could get my hands on to get out my pictures. Austin drew his art in words. It wasn’t exactly something he liked to talk about. And I never elaborated to the kids what kind of art he did. We knew the lines at work. We spent time together when we could. Lunches were usually spent in here just because it was easier. We could be alone and just talk. The door was always open if we were together. It was better to have the door open than to have questions about what we did later. And it worked for us. Most of the time, we had working lunches. There were plays and exhibitions to set up, and we spent most of our lunch periods discussing what the next project was for the two of us. People wondered how we did it. How did we work in the same school? It was easy. We saw each other for lunch. The rest of the day, we were handling our responsibilities. We both were heads of clubs, and both of us had plenty of projects to keep us busy. Lunch was a nice break. It gave us time to decompress before going back to the stress of the school day. We were both happy. On days where he had club meetings, I’d either sit on the stage and play with the piano, or I’d have my colored pencils and drawing pad. If I had a meeting, he was in the art room typing away at the computer or grading papers and tests. We cherished the time we had together. But, at the same time, we knew when we needed space. As long as Austin knew that I was there for him, he could have all the space he needed. I was the one he came home with, I had nothing to fear when he was lost in his head. All I could do was be there for him when he was ready to talk about what was going through his head. Pulling my blue hair off of my neck, I let my head rest against the back of my chair. It was right around that time in the school year when Austin came to me asking if I’d help with the musical. Technically, it was his responsibility. He was there to make sure there were no problems, but he liked having my help. Costumes and scenery were always my projects. It was a way to get my kids involved if they wanted to be. Especially my more shy students. It let them be a part of the production without them having to get up on stage. I was almost surprised he hadn’t dropped by to ask. I wasn’t even sure which musical he was doing this year. If I knew Austin, it was going to be something along the lines of West Side Story. But there were still a million and one choices out there. I had tried to talk him into Les Mis, but he looked at me with a raised brow. Maybe if we ever got to high school. Les Mis was a little much for a bunch of Middle Schoolers. My eyes ran to the clock as I let out a groan. There was about half an hour left of lunch, and I was still sitting here on my own. It wouldn’t be the first time Austin got caught up in his head, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last.^ Austin: -one look at my watch was all that I'd needed to know that time was slipping away from me faster than I'd dared to imagine it would have. I'd had every intention of making my way to Star’s Classroom as soon as the bell rang, but life had a way of getting me off track. That and the distractions in the form of a twelve year old who couldn't quit asking why about everything that came out of my mouth. And before I knew it, half of lunch was gone. It was the worst time of year possible. Everything was coming at me a million miles an hour including kids. I always managed to do this to myself, got so many balls in the air that it felt like one of them was going to drop if I took my attention away from it for even a moment. But somehow I always managed to make it through without dropping a single ball. As much as I might complain about it, I loved it. It kept me from feeling old even when I was three times the age of the people I surrounded myself with on a daily basis. Not a lot of people understood me or how I could be happy with teaching English and drama to a passel of drooling, pubescent children who were far too distracted by themselves to manage to pay attention to anything else. Or how I could spend my spare time between grading and sponsoring the drama club and the school newspaper just writing. It was a good thing my wife wasn't a lot of people. She got me on all the levels that no one else did. She was an artist, and she knew my passion for what I wrote they way I understood hers for the paintings and sketches that littered the office we shared at home. She was a teacher, and she knew the way the light in a kids eyes when they found something that resonated with them made every moment of the in between worth it. I was older than her by a good 8 years. And the kids liked to tease us both about being Mr. and Mrs. DeWitt. It never ceased to amuse them to observe that we arrived and left together every day or when they finally realized the first few weeks of their first year here that we were married and didn't just have the same last name by accident. The questions were cute, if repetitive, and mostly directed at Star, so I could pretend to be clueless about it all when it suited me. Hurrying down the hall until I walked in through Star’s Classroom door, sandwich in hand as I noted her expression and the time before I slid into the chair across from her- Sorry, Joey MacPherson wouldn't leave me alone until I explained to him why the word weird wasn't spelled W-I-E-R-D if it's “I before E except after C” for the millionth time. I know I'm late. -Truth was, it wasn't the first time I was late. It wouldn't be the last. And Star was going to be patiently waiting for me just the same. As much as I knew that, I also knew I didn't want her to think I was taking her for granted. My free hand reaching out to trace a line along her paint stained index finger- So, I picked the Spring musical for this year. And you know what I'm going to ask. -I looked up at her hopefully, knowing she loved the spring musical as much as I did even if she didn't always care to admit it- So, tell me you want to help with the set and costumes, and I'll tell you which play I picked out. -laughing softly as I threaded my fingers between hers. Working with my wife wasn't hard. She was my best friend and had been since soon after we met. Technically I was part of both the Art department and the English department here because of my weird class load. The first time I saw her across the room at a department meeting, her hair had been purple, a deep amethyst, and I knew I had to get to know her better then and there. I was lost before I ever knew I'd been found. I was also trying to find a way to tell her I was doing Into The Woods with the kids this year. The costumes and scenery for that one were something else, and I'd half picked it so she could go nuts making her own fairy tale world- Star: ^I could only shake my head with an indulgent smile as I picked up the salad that had been sitting on my desk. I wasn’t sure where Austin was going with the musical, but if he was asking for my help first, I knew it was something half for me.^ I haven’t denied you of my help in the entire time we’ve been here, Mr. DeWitt. I’ll do whatever I can to help. You need me to help with the costumes and the set, than I’m yours. ^The fall play and the spring musical were his babies. I knew that, and I was still going to help him with it. But I couldn’t help but notice the teasing smile on his lips. My brow raised in a question as I watched him put his sandwich in his mouth.^ You’re kind of killing me with suspense, Austin. Austin: -raising my own eyebrows in response as I glanced over at her with my mouth full of ham and white bread, letting a playful expression pass across my face as I tried to talk with my mouth full of lunch, knowing it was going to drive her crazy until I told her. I had the script in my back pocket but I wasn't showing her for a minute. I was secretly hoping to hear her squeal when I finally pulled it out but I was keeping that to myself for now. My voice muffled by the mouthful of sandwich I had taken- Well, I mean… I don't have enough life insurance on you to kill you yet. -laughing as I lean back in my seat and glance across the table at my wife and the expression that flits across her face like she wants to punch me square in the jaw or tackle me and and torture me by poking me in the ribs until I spill the beans. I stick the sandwich in my mouth one more time, leaving it there to free up my hands to fish in my back pocket for the script and toss it on the table in front of her with a wink. Grabbing the sandwich and taking a big swallow as I grin over at her- Well, what do you think, Mrs. DeWitt? Star: ^I couldn’t stop the squeal that slipped through my lips as Austin threw the Into The Woods script on my desk. I knew it was going to be labor intensive for costumes and set design. But I loved the challenge. I could already see everything in my head. The costumes were going to be one of a kind. But it was a challenge I was excited to take on. I couldn’t stop myself from getting out of my chair to hug my husband. The art club was going to be just as excited to work on the set as I was about the costumes. My arms were around my husband as I tried to keep my excitement at bay.^ I’ve already got stuff going through my head. You realize I’m going to be designing everything when we’re home, right? ^It was rare that I ever brought work home. It was the plus to being an art teacher. Most of the projects stayed at the school. I didn’t have to drag everything home to grade. At night, Austin would work on getting his grading done while I painted in the office. Even with past musicals, I worked on costume design while Austin was busy running rehearsals. The school was used to me being Austin’s second in command when it was play season. It was why they never bothered to ask if he needed a co-chair.^ When are you setting up auditions? Next week? ^Squeezing him one more time, I returned back to my chair to finish the salad that had been forgotten with the announcement. Turning my attention back to the bowl of greens, I let out a soft laugh.^ You just made the art club’s day with this project. It’s not going to be easy, but they’re going to go nuts with it. Austin: -I couldn't help but grin when Star squeaked and jumped out of her chair to wrap her arms around me. We didn't do too much in the way of public affection around school. It was the place we drew the line about working together. Here we were Mr. and Mrs. DeWitt. At home, it was something else entirely. But that didn't stop me from trying everything I could to make her smile during the work day, like walking through her class and dropping a bag of skittles on her desk in the middle of the day when I had a free period. They were her favorite candy and I was probably the reason they were stocked in the vending machine in the teacher's lounge. This had been my pet project for the last couple days, getting final approvals from the school board and principal and making sure the auditorium was free on the date I'd chosen. I had everything lined up before I ever said a word to my wife. She told me I'd made the art club’s day, but I knew I'd really made hers. And in the end, that had been my goal. Being a teacher was hard enough, being married to a teacher was arguably harder, doing both was a double whammy. And any way I could make things lighter or happier for her, I would.- I'm glad you like it, Mrs. DeWitt. -grinning as I went back to eating my sandwich- I thought you'd enjoy going nuts with costumes and the set design, and your kids can just get creative and let their imaginations go. Plus, I get to cast one of the hairy eighth graders as the Big Bad Wolf, and it's not every day I get to say that. -laughing hard- I think next week will be perfect for auditions. Star: ^Glancing at the clock, I felt myself groan. Time always seemed to fly whenever I had Austin in my room for lunch. It was a double edged sword. But I knew it was our reality. We found a way to make our relationship work. In truth, it could have been much harder. Shoving the plastic Tupperware back into my bottom drawer, I grabbed the sketch pad sitting on my desk and started drawing without paying too much attention to what was around me. The only thing that mattered was Austin. I could pout and throw a fit, but there was no point. We had chosen this. My voice was soft as I kept my eyes trained on the paper in front of me.^ Are you going to take a break from writing while the play is going, Mr. DeWitt? ^I knew the answer to the question. It was the same every season. He’d say he was going to step away, but it was something that relaxed him. It was what kept the stress from eating him alive. At night, we’d curl up in the office. I’d start drawing or painting, and he’d be as close to me as possible as he either wrote or watched me. As much as I tried to get him to not pay attention to me, I secretly loved how fascinated he was. It made me feel adored.^ It won’t last long, by the way. You need the words to keep you from ripping those dirty blond locks out. Austin: -I watched her grab a sketch pad, knowing there were only fifteen minutes or so left in the lunch period before we had to head off and take care of our next classes. She asked, but I knew what was going to happen as much as she did, judging by her answer. I couldn’t help but laugh softly as she glanced up with that coy expression from her pad when she told me it would keep me from ripping my hair out. She wasn’t wrong. This job was stressful on a good day. On a bad one, it could consume you and turn you into something like a troll. I needed to write, to get my thoughts out on paper. Some nights I just sat with the notebook in my lap and just doodled around the edges of the paper, unable to turn my thoughts into words. They just came out as jumbled swirls and dots of color in the margins of the words that eventually came. Poetry, prose, something, anything. I had to get it out. More often than not, they were about her. It was hard for me to tell her sometimes. I wasn’t the best speaker. On paper, I sounded like a poet, but paper was easy. At least it was easy for me. Much easier than speaking, and explaining the proper use of a semicolon to a bunch of sixth graders was completely different than telling the love of my life that my fingers could read her skin like braille and find the story of our lives written there in flesh and soft curves of bone beneath. Others were about daily life, the colors in the swirl of coffee and creamer at five in the morning when all I wanted to do was crawl back into bed, or the way the inside of one of my old books smelled like a familiar friend. Maybe I was odd. Maybe I always had been. I liked to think I had a poet’s soul, the one that led me to see beauty in everyday things, and to always have a slightly skewed view of the world.- You know me. I’m going to swear off it, but that will last… -stroking my chin with a wink- maybe a few hours. -laughing softly- You bring that design you’re working on home, and I’ll probably write after grading papers this evening. -I knew our time was growing short, and I couldn’t help myself. I grabbed the bag from my sandwich to toss it into the trash and walked my way around to her side of the desk, leaning over her shoulder to see what she was drawing. I knew it was one of the million ideas that was probably swirling through her head for costume or set design, but I was curious. I loved watching her work, and I brushed her hair back behind her shoulder to get a better view, letting my fingers linger against the skin at her throat for just a moment longer than necessary.- Star: ^I could only tilt my head to the side as Austin let his fingers rest against my throat. Here, at school, it was all about hidden and lingering touches. That was generally as far as we were willing to go. It had worked for the three years we had been married, though. Were there times I wanted nothing more than to push him down onto the desk and just ride him? Of course there were. And with our age gap, there was a small need to be a naughty student for him. But we were professional when we were in this building. There was no other way we could be. With the last few seconds of peace, I reached into my desk drawer to pull out a handful of peanut butter cups I kept in there for these occasions. Flipping Austin’s hand away from my neck, I dropped the chocolates into his palm. There were plenty of times that Skittles would work their way into my classes. May it be through Austin himself, one of our students handing them to me, or them appearing on my desk. But the truth was, I knew that it was Austin. He was responsible for my bad habit, just as I was responsible for his.^ The Art Club meets tomorrow after school. I’ll give them the heads up that the musical will be announced next week. I’ll give them the option of jumping onto the stage crew team to help with sets and lighting. Do you want me at auditions or do you want to handle that yourself? ^My lips were curved into a smirk as I asked the question. We both knew the truth. Even if he didn’t want me in auditions, I was going to be there. It didn’t matter if he wanted me there as co-chair or just his wife. I was going to be sitting either next to him or in the back of the auditorium making notes as I sketched. This was what he had gotten himself into, though. And he knew it.^ Austin: -laughing as she fills my hand with peanut butter cups, I can’t help but peel the wrapper off one of them and pop it into my mouth. Both of us were guilty about indulging the other’s bad habits, but it was our way of saying that we loved each other without a touch or a kiss. Teaching was a strange world at times, middle school even stranger than normal, and we had specific sets of rules we had to follow while we were at work. A quick glance at my watch told me I only had a few seconds before the bell was going to ring. Reaching out to tweak her nose with a grin before I grabbed the last of the stuff I’d brought into the room with me.- You better be sitting right next to me during the entire thing. I know you’re going to have an opinion either way. At least this way I get to smell your perfume to cover up the cloud of Axe body spray coming off the middle school boys. -laughing as I back my way to the door shooting my wife a wink- See you in a few… Star: ^It felt like a blink of an eye before Austin was off and down the hall. But that was the reality of our situation. We made it work. I hated him leaving, but I knew the truth. This was what we had to deal with. As students started filling the room, I couldn’t help but listen to the soft laughter from the kids. “Mrs. DeWitt, did Mr. DeWitt just leave?” I guess it was going to be that time when everyone wanted to hear the story again. I couldn’t stop the smile that played across my lips, though.^ Yes, Megan. You are all familiar with the fact that we’re married and have lunch together when we’re able to. ^The soft giggles from the girls and groans from the boys told me all I needed to know. This was far from the lesson, and I needed them back on track.^ I’m not going into it again. You all know I met him when I started working here. I told you guys the story earlier in the year. Get your materials, and back to your projects. ^Once the kids were focused again, the day seemed to rush by. I was lucky to have a free period at the end of the day. I always hung around in my room for Austin, though. Today was a day where we both didn’t have a club meeting after, so we could just go home. And home was where I wanted to be. I was done with being the professional where I could barely touch my husband. I needed to kiss him, feel him. I needed to be reminded that our professional lives weren’t everything. I had gotten so wrapped up in drawing one of Cinderella’s dresses that I barely heard the soft raps on my door. Turning around, I saw the principle standing there. Throwing the drawing down on the desk, I turned my attention to her.^ Mrs. Dawson. Please, come in. Have a seat. ^I could hear the soft laughter come from her lips as I started to focus on what was going on around me. The last period was almost over, and I knew I needed to start packing up. “You’re entirely too formal, Star. You know you can call me Laurie. But that’s not why I’m here. Has Austin discussed the play with you?” I could only nod my head as I looked back at the sketch on my desk.^ Of course he has. He told me today at lunch. I was just starting work on costumes. I’ll probably start set designs after the auditions next week. ^The smile that lit her face told me a lot. I figured this was about finding another co-chair. I knew that Austin loved running the show, but he always had me to help. “So you’ll be running it with him? You’re not going to make him do it alone?” I could only laugh softly.^ You know as well as I do that he’d do this on his own if he could. But yes. I told him I’d be beside him for auditions. I’m going to enlist help from the art club with the sets, and I’ll be responsible for costumes like we’ve done every year since getting married. My club knows they’re more than welcome to participate in whatever way they feel comfortable. The plays are always a joint production between the drama and art clubs. ^”Do you think Austin is being a little too ambitious here?” I thought about the question. And to a degree, he was. But I also knew the truth.^ Honestly, Laurie? If he didn’t think the kids could handle it, he would have picked a different play. He has faith in his kids. I have faith in the art club to get the sets done, and you know the costumes will be impeccable. If it gets to be too much, I’ll step in and tell him. But I have faith in him. ^As the bell rang, Laurie just nodded her head. She knew I wouldn’t let him drive himself mental. We both knew where the lines were for this. With a simple goodbye, she was off. Quickly packing my bag, I started down the hall towards Austin’s room. It was the end of the day, and I was ready to go home.^ Austin: -I’d been waiting for the ringing of the bell since I’d walked out of Star’s room at the end of lunch. It wasn’t that I didn’t love my job, but it was that time of year when I was most definitely ready to go home at the end of the day. I pulled the messenger bag that held my laptop and a stack of papers I needed to grade over one shoulder, cut out the lights, and walked to the door after the last of the children walked out into the hallway, half-running towards buses and cars in their hurry to get home. It was Friday, the weekend was looming, and I was as ready for it as the kids. Star was already halfway down the hall when I walked out of my door and locked it behind me. And it was second nature to slip my arm around her shoulders when she met me at my door and we continued on our way down the hall towards the faculty parking lot just outside the building. I was ready for this. I was ready to stop being Mr. DeWitt the English teacher and Mrs. DeWitt the art teacher and to start being Austin and Star. As much as I loved my job, I loved being at home with my wife even more. Even if we were just curled up on the couch watching TV or her sketching in her place on the chair in our shared office while I was working at the desk. It was just nice to be the two of us.- So, how was the rest of your day, Mrs. DeWitt? -I grinned and held open the car door for her on the passenger side of our car, waiting for her to slide into the passenger seat before I moved to drop my bag in the backseat on the way around the car. Going home was my favorite part of the day, the part of the day when we could drop the rules and facades that being a teacher came with and just relax into who we really were. Settling into the driver’s seat meant I could thread my fingers between hers for the first time in hours and finally feel like I was able to relax.- Star: ^I could only roll my eyes as he called me Mrs. DeWitt. There was no denying that I was. But we were outside of the school walls. As soon as he was in the car, I leaned over the middle console and pressed my lips to my husband’s. I needed to remind him that this wasn’t just what we were supposed to do. We didn’t have to play by the rules anymore. We could go back to being Austin and Star.^ I got harassed for you being in the art room during lunch by the kids. ^I couldn’t help the soft laugh that slipped through my lips at his soft groan. I knew Austin was as private as they could come. He hated discussing much of anything about us with the kids.^ I didn’t tell them what they didn’t already know, Baby. ^I thought about the next words that I needed to say. I couldn’t hide the conversation with Laurie from him. There was no reason to hide from him. He needed to know everything, because it wasn’t just Laurie that was concerned for him. I always worried that he was taking on too much.^ Laurie stopped by my room today and officially asked me to help with the musical. She wants to be sure that you’re not taking too much on. I told her if you started to stress out, that I’d step in and make you calm down. Austin: -I couldn’t help but grin against Star’s lips as she leaned into take a kiss before I put the car in gear and headed out of the driveway and into the street. We didn’t live far from school. We’d picked our apartment so we didn’t have to commute half way across the city to get to work every day. That and because Star had fallen in love with the light. The drive was thankfully short. I heard her start talking about Laurie, and I could just imagine the expression on my boss’s face when she came in concerned. Was I taking on more than I had to? Maybe. But was it more than I could handle? Probably not. I had Star to help me, as much as I wasn’t going to rely on her, she was also going to be there for me, even if I didn’t ask her to be. - Promise me something? -I glanced over at my wife as she raised the eyebrow I knew she was going to raise when I said that. I could call her reactions, and I knew she was going to agree with what I was about to ask. She nodded her head slightly, and I couldn’t help but grin- Kick my ass if I become an asshole about all of this. Remind me it’s a middle school play, and as much as we both have big dreams, in the end, it’s most important that everyone has a good time. -I needed that. I could get wrapped up in things sometimes. I could punish myself into oblivion and just drive myself crazy if I thought things weren’t going the way they should. I held myself responsible for things that were out of my control, and the only person who was able to get me out of it was Star.- Star: ^It was no time at all that we were up in our apartment. I wanted to lecture Austin on not taking on too much. I wanted to remind him that he wasn’t doing this alone. He never had to do it alone. But he tended to take on the I am an island mentality when it came to the musical. I absolutely wanted to punch him when he got in over his head. Austin had a habit of shutting himself off when opening night got close. And even towards the beginning of the entire production. Right after auditions when he needed to choose roles for everyone was hell for me. There was almost nothing I could do to get him out of his head. This time things were absolutely going to be different. He had picked this specific musical for me. I was going to force my opinions on him if he wasn’t listening. This was as much for me as it was for the kids.^ You know I am not going to be afraid to take the entire show from you, right? You decided on this show knowing I’d make myself have a voice. If you get out of control, I will absolutely take it from you completely. ^Shrugging my coat off, I hung it on the rack by the door. There really was so much that I needed to do with this show, but I would absolutely take over for Austin if I needed to. He needed to remember that this wasn’t just for him. This was supposed to be fun for the kids. It was supposed to be fun for us. It wasn’t meant to stress us out. Relaxing into one of the chairs in the living room, I just took a breath to relax. I knew what I was walking into with the play. I knew the monster that was about to be living in my house. But I also knew I had tamed that monster long ago.^ Don’t go overboard and we won’t have a problem, kay? Austin: -She wasn’t wrong. I tended to get lost in my head, and when I got lost, I was very insulated. I got in the mindset that the only person I could rely on was myself, and I would let myself drown in the project. That was half the reason I’d chosen this. Into the Woods was a gift for her. But it was also the surest way to make sure she would kick my ass if I took on too much and got myself in too deep. That was one of the many things I loved about her. I was too intellectual for my own good sometimes. Even when I wasn’t doing a play, I was writing. It was a stress reliever, but it was also a place I could lose myself for good or for evil. It would have been easy for me to stay lost in my own little world and let the rest of the world pass me by. She had been the first thing that had ever made me want to be present in the real world as much as I wanted to get lost in my own head. She was the anchor that kept my feet on the ground when I needed it, and the wings that kept my heart in the clouds when I needed that, too. She could kick my ass when I got too caught up in my own ego then turn around and drag me up out of the hole I put myself in when I felt like nothing was going right. Moving to drop my computer bag on the couch close to the door as she shrugged her coat off her shoulders, hanging it on its familiar hook at the same time she threatened to kick my ass if I went overboard. It brought a grin to my face, and I couldn’t help myself as I wound my arms around her body from behind, crushing her back into my chest as I tightened my embrace around her midsection, resting my chin against her shoulder- Yes, ma’am. If I go overboard you have permission to slap me back into at least the level of common sense I have right now. I know I’m going to need you for this. I need you for everything… -turning to drag my lips across the shell of her ear as I spoke. This was what I missed during the day when we worked together, where we had to Mr. and Mrs. DeWitt instead of Star and Austin, but here in our apartment, we were free to be as stupid and in love as we wanted. Despite the fact that I was supposed to be getting old at 36 and she was only 28, she never failed to make me feel like I was 18 instead. I couldn’t resist trailing a line of kisses up along her throat to where her jaw met her ear with a soft chuckle- Star: ^I could only roll my eyes as I felt Austin’s lips move along my neck. His words were exactly what I knew was coming. It was the end of the week, and we were finally allowed to just be Star and Austin for the next three days. There was no putting on the face of Mr. and Mrs. DeWitt. We could just be. And that was something we both cherished and held dear. We had been together for almost five years. We had gotten married three years ago, though. Austin wanted to make sure I was okay with the age difference. He needed to make sure that I was always going to be beside him. Even if he was seven years older than I was. Even though I was nothing but a very young woman. He needed to make sure I wasn’t going to bail on him when times got hard. Our relationship was anything but normal. I didn’t attribute it to the age difference, though. I didn’t see him as a man that was almost 36. I didn’t like to acknowledge the fact that I was only 28. It had nothing to do with our ages. It was all about our life experiences. We were both artists, though. And sometimes, the art turned us into people we didn’t recognize. And that was okay. But at the beginning of our relationship, it had made us unsure of how to deal with the other. I didn’t know how Austin would react when I tried to push him away. Depression and body image issues had been a huge fight for me since I was a teenager. There were times when I couldn’t see what anyone else saw in me. I was just a miserable excuse of an existence. So I pushed Austin away. I did everything I could think of to make him not want to be with someone that had those problems. But the truth was that he held me tighter, pulled me closer, refused to let me go. He taught me that it didn’t matter how I saw myself. I could hate myself, but he was still going to love me. He was going to hold me until I was better. And we never had to actually talk about what was bothering me. He didn’t care, he just loved me. He wanted me to be okay. He gave me a reason to fight the depression. Shaking my head, I needed to let the fog go as Austin tried to distract me from everything going on around me. It was the time of the week where we could become absorbed in each other. We didn’t have to focus on what we were doing tomorrow. We didn’t have to make lesson plans for the week. We could go back to worrying about that on Sunday. When the realities of the situation sank back in. Wrapping my arms around Austin’s neck, I pushed myself closer to him. I needed to feel myself pressed up against him. I needed to feel him this way. I just needed him.^ I love you. I’ve needed you since the moment I met you. Nothing could ever change that. Austin: -Sometimes, I thought that Star didn’t know how much I needed her. She was always so very insistent that it was she who needed me, while I was convinced it was the other way around. Maybe we needed each other. All I knew was that life was better with her than it had ever been without her. I’d been surviving, but not exactly living. When she drew herself closer to me, I knew what was running through her head, even if she didn’t. She’d been thinking about how at first she tried to push me away, and how I, the stubborn ass that I was, had hung on for dear life instead. I knew I needed her from the beginning. My arms curled around her body even more tightly, holding her to my chest as leaned my forehead against hers, fingers moving gently along her spine. I couldn’t get her any closer at the moment, as much as I might want to. And I couldn’t stop myself from smiling as I moved in to press a kiss against her lips this time- I love you too, Star. To the moon and back. Don’t ever forget that. -It was our usual back and forth, the words we told each other when we knew we needed to know how much we cared about each other. There was comfort in the repetition, in the knowing that, no matter what, nothing was going to change the way one of us felt about the other. It was what our whole life here was built on. A whim hit me, and I didn’t even try to slow myself down as I moved to scoop her up into my arms and carry her back into the office space we shared, curled up in my arms- Now come on, Mrs. DeWitt. I’ve been waiting to have you in my arms all day. Star: ^This time, hearing him call me Mrs. DeWitt was different. There was a very specific connotation with it. It was as if Austin was flashing back to the moment I married him. The moment he allowed me to be Mrs. DeWitt. The day that we truly became each others. This was something I loved, though. I loved being reminded that I was his. Against everything else, I did actually belong to him. There was nothing that was going to change that. We never threw around the possession in a bad way. I never felt controlled or abused when he said I was his. In truth, I said he was mine as much as he said I was his. It was something we loved doing. Austin held a piece of my soul that no one could ever touch. I wasn’t willing to let anyone touch it. It was the only thing that belonged solely to him. My words were almost a soft whimper as my hands played with the hair at the back of Austin’s neck^ I’m yours, Mr. DeWitt. And in your arms is where I want to be. #AndAllIFindIsYou

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proveiloveyou · 7 years

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And All I Find Is You (SL with @AreFallingForUs

It wasn’t a hidden fact that Austin and I were married. The kids tended to love it. It was a question I got asked every year. “Mrs. DeWitt, how did you and Mr. DeWitt meet?” It was a simple answer. We were both artists. It was two different kinds of art, but artists appreciated each other. It didn’t matter the platform. I used paint, charcoal, chalk, or anything I could get my hands on to get out my pictures. Austin drew his art in words. It wasn’t exactly something he liked to talk about. And I never elaborated to the kids what kind of art he did.

We knew the lines at work. We spent time together when we could. Lunches were usually spent in here just because it was easier. We could be alone and just talk. The door was always open if we were together. It was better to have the door open than to have questions about what we did later. And it worked for us. Most of the time, we had working lunches. There were plays and exhibitions to set up, and we spent most of our lunch periods discussing what the next project was for the two of us.

People wondered how we did it. How did we work in the same school? It was easy. We saw each other for lunch. The rest of the day, we were handling our responsibilities. We both were heads of clubs, and both of us had plenty of projects to keep us busy. Lunch was a nice break. It gave us time to decompress before going back to the stress of the school day.

We were both happy. On days where he had club meetings, I’d either sit on the stage and play with the piano, or I’d have my colored pencils and drawing pad. If I had a meeting, he was in the art room typing away at the computer or grading papers and tests. We cherished the time we had together. But, at the same time, we knew when we needed space. As long as Austin knew that I was there for him, he could have all the space he needed. I was the one he came home with, I had nothing to fear when he was lost in his head. All I could do was be there for him when he was ready to talk about what was going through his head.

Pulling my blue hair off of my neck, I let my head rest against the back of my chair. It was right around that time in the school year when Austin came to me asking if I’d help with the musical. Technically, it was his responsibility. He was there to make sure there were no problems, but he liked having my help. Costumes and scenery were always my projects. It was a way to get my kids involved if they wanted to be. Especially my more shy students. It let them be a part of the production without them having to get up on stage.

I was almost surprised he hadn’t dropped by to ask. I wasn’t even sure which musical he was doing this year. If I knew Austin, it was going to be something along the lines of West Side Story. But there were still a million and one choices out there. I had tried to talk him into Les Mis, but he looked at me with a raised brow. Maybe if we ever got to high school. Les Mis was a little much for a bunch of Middle Schoolers. My eyes ran to the clock as I let out a groan. There was about half an hour left of lunch, and I was still sitting here on my own. It wouldn’t be the first time Austin got caught up in his head, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last.^

Austin: -one look at my watch was all that I'd needed to know that time was slipping away from me faster than I'd dared to imagine it would have. I'd had every intention of making my way to Star’s Classroom as soon as the bell rang, but life had a way of getting me off track. That and the distractions in the form of a twelve year old who couldn't quit asking why about everything that came out of my mouth. And before I knew it, half of lunch was gone.

It was the worst time of year possible. Everything was coming at me a million miles an hour including kids. I always managed to do this to myself, got so many balls in the air that it felt like one of them was going to drop if I took my attention away from it for even a moment. But somehow I always managed to make it through without dropping a single ball. As much as I might complain about it, I loved it. It kept me from feeling old even when I was three times the age of the people I surrounded myself with on a daily basis.

Not a lot of people understood me or how I could be happy with teaching English and drama to a passel of drooling, pubescent children who were far too distracted by themselves to manage to pay attention to anything else. Or how I could spend my spare time between grading and sponsoring the drama club and the school newspaper just writing. It was a good thing my wife wasn't a lot of people. She got me on all the levels that no one else did. She was an artist, and she knew my passion for what I wrote they way I understood hers for the paintings and sketches that littered the office we shared at home. She was a teacher, and she knew the way the light in a kids eyes when they found something that resonated with them made every moment of the in between worth it.

I was older than her by a good 8 years. And the kids liked to tease us both about being Mr. and Mrs. DeWitt. It never ceased to amuse them to observe that we arrived and left together every day or when they finally realized the first few weeks of their first year here that we were married and didn't just have the same last name by accident. The questions were cute, if repetitive, and mostly directed at Star, so I could pretend to be clueless about it all when it suited me.

Hurrying down the hall until I walked in through Star’s Classroom door, sandwich in hand as I noted her expression and the time before I slid into the chair across from her- Sorry, Joey MacPherson wouldn't leave me alone until I explained to him why the word weird wasn't spelled W-I-E-R-D if it's “I before E except after C” for the millionth time. I know I'm late.

-Truth was, it wasn't the first time I was late. It wouldn't be the last. And Star was going to be patiently waiting for me just the same. As much as I knew that, I also knew I didn't want her to think I was taking her for granted. My free hand reaching out to trace a line along her paint stained index finger- So, I picked the Spring musical for this year. And you know what I'm going to ask. -I looked up at her hopefully, knowing she loved the spring musical as much as I did even if she didn't always care to admit it- So, tell me you want to help with the set and costumes, and I'll tell you which play I picked out. -laughing softly as I threaded my fingers between hers.

Working with my wife wasn't hard. She was my best friend and had been since soon after we met. Technically I was part of both the Art department and the English department here because of my weird class load. The first time I saw her across the room at a department meeting, her hair had been purple, a deep amethyst, and I knew I had to get to know her better then and there. I was lost before I ever knew I'd been found.

I was also trying to find a way to tell her I was doing Into The Woods with the kids this year. The costumes and scenery for that one were something else, and I'd half picked it so she could go nuts making her own fairy tale world-

Star: ^I could only shake my head with an indulgent smile as I picked up the salad that had been sitting on my desk. I wasn’t sure where Austin was going with the musical, but if he was asking for my help first, I knew it was something half for me.^ I haven’t denied you of my help in the entire time we’ve been here, Mr. DeWitt. I’ll do whatever I can to help. You need me to help with the costumes and the set, than I’m yours.

^The fall play and the spring musical were his babies. I knew that, and I was still going to help him with it. But I couldn’t help but notice the teasing smile on his lips. My brow raised in a question as I watched him put his sandwich in his mouth.^ You’re kind of killing me with suspense, Austin.

Austin: -raising my own eyebrows in response as I glanced over at her with my mouth full of ham and white bread, letting a playful expression pass across my face as I tried to talk with my mouth full of lunch, knowing it was going to drive her crazy until I told her. I had the script in my back pocket but I wasn't showing her for a minute. I was secretly hoping to hear her squeal when I finally pulled it out but I was keeping that to myself for now. My voice muffled by the mouthful of sandwich I had taken- Well, I mean… I don't have enough life insurance on you to kill you yet.

-laughing as I lean back in my seat and glance across the table at my wife and the expression that flits across her face like she wants to punch me square in the jaw or tackle me and and torture me by poking me in the ribs until I spill the beans. I stick the sandwich in my mouth one more time, leaving it there to free up my hands to fish in my back pocket for the script and toss it on the table in front of her with a wink. Grabbing the sandwich and taking a big swallow as I grin over at her- Well, what do you think, Mrs. DeWitt?

Star: ^I couldn’t stop the squeal that slipped through my lips as Austin threw the Into The Woods script on my desk. I knew it was going to be labor intensive for costumes and set design. But I loved the challenge. I could already see everything in my head. The costumes were going to be one of a kind. But it was a challenge I was excited to take on.

I couldn’t stop myself from getting out of my chair to hug my husband. The art club was going to be just as excited to work on the set as I was about the costumes. My arms were around my husband as I tried to keep my excitement at bay.^ I’ve already got stuff going through my head. You realize I’m going to be designing everything when we’re home, right?

^It was rare that I ever brought work home. It was the plus to being an art teacher. Most of the projects stayed at the school. I didn’t have to drag everything home to grade. At night, Austin would work on getting his grading done while I painted in the office. Even with past musicals, I worked on costume design while Austin was busy running rehearsals. The school was used to me being Austin’s second in command when it was play season. It was why they never bothered to ask if he needed a co-chair.^ When are you setting up auditions? Next week?

^Squeezing him one more time, I returned back to my chair to finish the salad that had been forgotten with the announcement. Turning my attention back to the bowl of greens, I let out a soft laugh.^ You just made the art club’s day with this project. It’s not going to be easy, but they’re going to go nuts with it.

Austin: -I couldn't help but grin when Star squeaked and jumped out of her chair to wrap her arms around me. We didn't do too much in the way of public affection around school. It was the place we drew the line about working together. Here we were Mr. and Mrs. DeWitt. At home, it was something else entirely. But that didn't stop me from trying everything I could to make her smile during the work day, like walking through her class and dropping a bag of skittles on her desk in the middle of the day when I had a free period. They were her favorite candy and I was probably the reason they were stocked in the vending machine in the teacher's lounge.

This had been my pet project for the last couple days, getting final approvals from the school board and principal and making sure the auditorium was free on the date I'd chosen. I had everything lined up before I ever said a word to my wife. She told me I'd made the art club’s day, but I knew I'd really made hers. And in the end, that had been my goal. Being a teacher was hard enough, being married to a teacher was arguably harder, doing both was a double whammy. And any way I could make things lighter or happier for her, I would.-

I'm glad you like it, Mrs. DeWitt. -grinning as I went back to eating my sandwich- I thought you'd enjoy going nuts with costumes and the set design, and your kids can just get creative and let their imaginations go. Plus, I get to cast one of the hairy eighth graders as the Big Bad Wolf, and it's not every day I get to say that. -laughing hard- I think next week will be perfect for auditions.

Star: ^Glancing at the clock, I felt myself groan. Time always seemed to fly whenever I had Austin in my room for lunch. It was a double edged sword. But I knew it was our reality. We found a way to make our relationship work. In truth, it could have been much harder.

Shoving the plastic Tupperware back into my bottom drawer, I grabbed the sketch pad sitting on my desk and started drawing without paying too much attention to what was around me. The only thing that mattered was Austin. I could pout and throw a fit, but there was no point. We had chosen this. My voice was soft as I kept my eyes trained on the paper in front of me.^ Are you going to take a break from writing while the play is going, Mr. DeWitt?

^I knew the answer to the question. It was the same every season. He’d say he was going to step away, but it was something that relaxed him. It was what kept the stress from eating him alive. At night, we’d curl up in the office. I’d start drawing or painting, and he’d be as close to me as possible as he either wrote or watched me. As much as I tried to get him to not pay attention to me, I secretly loved how fascinated he was. It made me feel adored.^ It won’t last long, by the way. You need the words to keep you from ripping those dirty blond locks out.

Austin: -I watched her grab a sketch pad, knowing there were only fifteen minutes or so left in the lunch period before we had to head off and take care of our next classes. She asked, but I knew what was going to happen as much as she did, judging by her answer. I couldn’t help but laugh softly as she glanced up with that coy expression from her pad when she told me it would keep me from ripping my hair out. She wasn’t wrong.

This job was stressful on a good day. On a bad one, it could consume you and turn you into something like a troll. I needed to write, to get my thoughts out on paper. Some nights I just sat with the notebook in my lap and just doodled around the edges of the paper, unable to turn my thoughts into words. They just came out as jumbled swirls and dots of color in the margins of the words that eventually came. Poetry, prose, something, anything. I had to get it out. More often than not, they were about her.

It was hard for me to tell her sometimes. I wasn’t the best speaker. On paper, I sounded like a poet, but paper was easy. At least it was easy for me. Much easier than speaking, and explaining the proper use of a semicolon to a bunch of sixth graders was completely different than telling the love of my life that my fingers could read her skin like braille and find the story of our lives written there in flesh and soft curves of bone beneath.

Others were about daily life, the colors in the swirl of coffee and creamer at five in the morning when all I wanted to do was crawl back into bed, or the way the inside of one of my old books smelled like a familiar friend. Maybe I was odd. Maybe I always had been. I liked to think I had a poet’s soul, the one that led me to see beauty in everyday things, and to always have a slightly skewed view of the world.-

You know me. I’m going to swear off it, but that will last… -stroking my chin with a wink- maybe a few hours. -laughing softly- You bring that design you’re working on home, and I’ll probably write after grading papers this evening.

-I knew our time was growing short, and I couldn’t help myself. I grabbed the bag from my sandwich to toss it into the trash and walked my way around to her side of the desk, leaning over her shoulder to see what she was drawing. I knew it was one of the million ideas that was probably swirling through her head for costume or set design, but I was curious. I loved watching her work, and I brushed her hair back behind her shoulder to get a better view, letting my fingers linger against the skin at her throat for just a moment longer than necessary.-

Star: ^I could only tilt my head to the side as Austin let his fingers rest against my throat. Here, at school, it was all about hidden and lingering touches. That was generally as far as we were willing to go. It had worked for the three years we had been married, though. Were there times I wanted nothing more than to push him down onto the desk and just ride him? Of course there were. And with our age gap, there was a small need to be a naughty student for him. But we were professional when we were in this building. There was no other way we could be.

With the last few seconds of peace, I reached into my desk drawer to pull out a handful of peanut butter cups I kept in there for these occasions. Flipping Austin’s hand away from my neck, I dropped the chocolates into his palm. There were plenty of times that Skittles would work their way into my classes. May it be through Austin himself, one of our students handing them to me, or them appearing on my desk. But the truth was, I knew that it was Austin. He was responsible for my bad habit, just as I was responsible for his.^ The Art Club meets tomorrow after school. I’ll give them the heads up that the musical will be announced next week. I’ll give them the option of jumping onto the stage crew team to help with sets and lighting. Do you want me at auditions or do you want to handle that yourself?

^My lips were curved into a smirk as I asked the question. We both knew the truth. Even if he didn’t want me in auditions, I was going to be there. It didn’t matter if he wanted me there as co-chair or just his wife. I was going to be sitting either next to him or in the back of the auditorium making notes as I sketched. This was what he had gotten himself into, though. And he knew it.^

Austin: -laughing as she fills my hand with peanut butter cups, I can’t help but peel the wrapper off one of them and pop it into my mouth. Both of us were guilty about indulging the other’s bad habits, but it was our way of saying that we loved each other without a touch or a kiss. Teaching was a strange world at times, middle school even stranger than normal, and we had specific sets of rules we had to follow while we were at work.

A quick glance at my watch told me I only had a few seconds before the bell was going to ring. Reaching out to tweak her nose with a grin before I grabbed the last of the stuff I’d brought into the room with me.- You better be sitting right next to me during the entire thing. I know you’re going to have an opinion either way. At least this way I get to smell your perfume to cover up the cloud of Axe body spray coming off the middle school boys. -laughing as I back my way to the door shooting my wife a wink- See you in a few…

Star: ^It felt like a blink of an eye before Austin was off and down the hall. But that was the reality of our situation. We made it work. I hated him leaving, but I knew the truth. This was what we had to deal with. As students started filling the room, I couldn’t help but listen to the soft laughter from the kids.

“Mrs. DeWitt, did Mr. DeWitt just leave?” I guess it was going to be that time when everyone wanted to hear the story again. I couldn’t stop the smile that played across my lips, though.^ Yes, Megan. You are all familiar with the fact that we’re married and have lunch together when we’re able to.

^The soft giggles from the girls and groans from the boys told me all I needed to know. This was far from the lesson, and I needed them back on track.^ I’m not going into it again. You all know I met him when I started working here. I told you guys the story earlier in the year. Get your materials, and back to your projects.

^Once the kids were focused again, the day seemed to rush by. I was lucky to have a free period at the end of the day. I always hung around in my room for Austin, though. Today was a day where we both didn’t have a club meeting after, so we could just go home. And home was where I wanted to be. I was done with being the professional where I could barely touch my husband. I needed to kiss him, feel him. I needed to be reminded that our professional lives weren’t everything.

I had gotten so wrapped up in drawing one of Cinderella’s dresses that I barely heard the soft raps on my door. Turning around, I saw the principle standing there. Throwing the drawing down on the desk, I turned my attention to her.^ Mrs. Dawson. Please, come in. Have a seat.

^I could hear the soft laughter come from her lips as I started to focus on what was going on around me. The last period was almost over, and I knew I needed to start packing up. “You’re entirely too formal, Star. You know you can call me Laurie. But that’s not why I’m here. Has Austin discussed the play with you?” I could only nod my head as I looked back at the sketch on my desk.^ Of course he has. He told me today at lunch. I was just starting work on costumes. I’ll probably start set designs after the auditions next week.

^The smile that lit her face told me a lot. I figured this was about finding another co-chair. I knew that Austin loved running the show, but he always had me to help. “So you’ll be running it with him? You’re not going to make him do it alone?” I could only laugh softly.^ You know as well as I do that he’d do this on his own if he could. But yes. I told him I’d be beside him for auditions. I’m going to enlist help from the art club with the sets, and I’ll be responsible for costumes like we’ve done every year since getting married. My club knows they’re more than welcome to participate in whatever way they feel comfortable. The plays are always a joint production between the drama and art clubs.

^”Do you think Austin is being a little too ambitious here?” I thought about the question. And to a degree, he was. But I also knew the truth.^ Honestly, Laurie? If he didn’t think the kids could handle it, he would have picked a different play. He has faith in his kids. I have faith in the art club to get the sets done, and you know the costumes will be impeccable. If it gets to be too much, I’ll step in and tell him. But I have faith in him.

^As the bell rang, Laurie just nodded her head. She knew I wouldn’t let him drive himself mental. We both knew where the lines were for this. With a simple goodbye, she was off. Quickly packing my bag, I started down the hall towards Austin’s room. It was the end of the day, and I was ready to go home.^

Austin: -I’d been waiting for the ringing of the bell since I’d walked out of Star’s room at the end of lunch. It wasn’t that I didn’t love my job, but it was that time of year when I was most definitely ready to go home at the end of the day. I pulled the messenger bag that held my laptop and a stack of papers I needed to grade over one shoulder, cut out the lights, and walked to the door after the last of the children walked out into the hallway, half-running towards buses and cars in their hurry to get home. It was Friday, the weekend was looming, and I was as ready for it as the kids.

Star was already halfway down the hall when I walked out of my door and locked it behind me. And it was second nature to slip my arm around her shoulders when she met me at my door and we continued on our way down the hall towards the faculty parking lot just outside the building. I was ready for this. I was ready to stop being Mr. DeWitt the English teacher and Mrs. DeWitt the art teacher and to start being Austin and Star.

As much as I loved my job, I loved being at home with my wife even more. Even if we were just curled up on the couch watching TV or her sketching in her place on the chair in our shared office while I was working at the desk. It was just nice to be the two of us.- So, how was the rest of your day, Mrs. DeWitt? -I grinned and held open the car door for her on the passenger side of our car, waiting for her to slide into the passenger seat before I moved to drop my bag in the backseat on the way around the car.

Going home was my favorite part of the day, the part of the day when we could drop the rules and facades that being a teacher came with and just relax into who we really were. Settling into the driver’s seat meant I could thread my fingers between hers for the first time in hours and finally feel like I was able to relax.-

Star: ^I could only roll my eyes as he called me Mrs. DeWitt. There was no denying that I was. But we were outside of the school walls. As soon as he was in the car, I leaned over the middle console and pressed my lips to my husband’s. I needed to remind him that this wasn’t just what we were supposed to do. We didn’t have to play by the rules anymore. We could go back to being Austin and Star.^

I got harassed for you being in the art room during lunch by the kids. ^I couldn’t help the soft laugh that slipped through my lips at his soft groan. I knew Austin was as private as they could come. He hated discussing much of anything about us with the kids.^ I didn’t tell them what they didn’t already know, Baby.

^I thought about the next words that I needed to say. I couldn’t hide the conversation with Laurie from him. There was no reason to hide from him. He needed to know everything, because it wasn’t just Laurie that was concerned for him. I always worried that he was taking on too much.^ Laurie stopped by my room today and officially asked me to help with the musical. She wants to be sure that you’re not taking too much on. I told her if you started to stress out, that I’d step in and make you calm down.

Austin: -I couldn’t help but grin against Star’s lips as she leaned into take a kiss before I put the car in gear and headed out of the driveway and into the street. We didn’t live far from school. We’d picked our apartment so we didn’t have to commute half way across the city to get to work every day. That and because Star had fallen in love with the light. The drive was thankfully short.

I heard her start talking about Laurie, and I could just imagine the expression on my boss’s face when she came in concerned. Was I taking on more than I had to? Maybe. But was it more than I could handle? Probably not. I had Star to help me, as much as I wasn’t going to rely on her, she was also going to be there for me, even if I didn’t ask her to be. - Promise me something?

-I glanced over at my wife as she raised the eyebrow I knew she was going to raise when I said that. I could call her reactions, and I knew she was going to agree with what I was about to ask. She nodded her head slightly, and I couldn’t help but grin- Kick my ass if I become an asshole about all of this. Remind me it’s a middle school play, and as much as we both have big dreams, in the end, it’s most important that everyone has a good time.

-I needed that. I could get wrapped up in things sometimes. I could punish myself into oblivion and just drive myself crazy if I thought things weren’t going the way they should. I held myself responsible for things that were out of my control, and the only person who was able to get me out of it was Star.-

Star: ^It was no time at all that we were up in our apartment. I wanted to lecture Austin on not taking on too much. I wanted to remind him that he wasn’t doing this alone. He never had to do it alone. But he tended to take on the I am an island mentality when it came to the musical. I absolutely wanted to punch him when he got in over his head.

Austin had a habit of shutting himself off when opening night got close. And even towards the beginning of the entire production. Right after auditions when he needed to choose roles for everyone was hell for me. There was almost nothing I could do to get him out of his head. This time things were absolutely going to be different. He had picked this specific musical for me. I was going to force my opinions on him if he wasn’t listening. This was as much for me as it was for the kids.^ You know I am not going to be afraid to take the entire show from you, right? You decided on this show knowing I’d make myself have a voice. If you get out of control, I will absolutely take it from you completely.

^Shrugging my coat off, I hung it on the rack by the door. There really was so much that I needed to do with this show, but I would absolutely take over for Austin if I needed to. He needed to remember that this wasn’t just for him. This was supposed to be fun for the kids. It was supposed to be fun for us. It wasn’t meant to stress us out. Relaxing into one of the chairs in the living room, I just took a breath to relax. I knew what I was walking into with the play. I knew the monster that was about to be living in my house. But I also knew I had tamed that monster long ago.^ Don’t go overboard and we won’t have a problem, kay?

Austin: -She wasn’t wrong. I tended to get lost in my head, and when I got lost, I was very insulated. I got in the mindset that the only person I could rely on was myself, and I would let myself drown in the project. That was half the reason I’d chosen this.

Into the Woods was a gift for her. But it was also the surest way to make sure she would kick my ass if I took on too much and got myself in too deep. That was one of the many things I loved about her. I was too intellectual for my own good sometimes. Even when I wasn’t doing a play, I was writing. It was a stress reliever, but it was also a place I could lose myself for good or for evil. It would have been easy for me to stay lost in my own little world and let the rest of the world pass me by.

She had been the first thing that had ever made me want to be present in the real world as much as I wanted to get lost in my own head. She was the anchor that kept my feet on the ground when I needed it, and the wings that kept my heart in the clouds when I needed that, too. She could kick my ass when I got too caught up in my own ego then turn around and drag me up out of the hole I put myself in when I felt like nothing was going right.

Moving to drop my computer bag on the couch close to the door as she shrugged her coat off her shoulders, hanging it on its familiar hook at the same time she threatened to kick my ass if I went overboard. It brought a grin to my face, and I couldn’t help myself as I wound my arms around her body from behind, crushing her back into my chest as I tightened my embrace around her midsection, resting my chin against her shoulder- Yes, ma’am. If I go overboard you have permission to slap me back into at least the level of common sense I have right now. I know I’m going to need you for this. I need you for everything… -turning to drag my lips across the shell of her ear as I spoke.

This was what I missed during the day when we worked together, where we had to Mr. and Mrs. DeWitt instead of Star and Austin, but here in our apartment, we were free to be as stupid and in love as we wanted. Despite the fact that I was supposed to be getting old at 36 and she was only 28, she never failed to make me feel like I was 18 instead. I couldn’t resist trailing a line of kisses up along her throat to where her jaw met her ear with a soft chuckle-

Star: ^I could only roll my eyes as I felt Austin’s lips move along my neck. His words were exactly what I knew was coming. It was the end of the week, and we were finally allowed to just be Star and Austin for the next three days. There was no putting on the face of Mr. and Mrs. DeWitt. We could just be. And that was something we both cherished and held dear.

We had been together for almost five years. We had gotten married three years ago, though. Austin wanted to make sure I was okay with the age difference. He needed to make sure that I was always going to be beside him. Even if he was seven years older than I was. Even though I was nothing but a very young woman. He needed to make sure I wasn’t going to bail on him when times got hard.

Our relationship was anything but normal. I didn’t attribute it to the age difference, though. I didn’t see him as a man that was almost 36. I didn’t like to acknowledge the fact that I was only 28. It had nothing to do with our ages. It was all about our life experiences. We were both artists, though. And sometimes, the art turned us into people we didn’t recognize. And that was okay. But at the beginning of our relationship, it had made us unsure of how to deal with the other.

I didn’t know how Austin would react when I tried to push him away. Depression and body image issues had been a huge fight for me since I was a teenager. There were times when I couldn’t see what anyone else saw in me. I was just a miserable excuse of an existence. So I pushed Austin away. I did everything I could think of to make him not want to be with someone that had those problems. But the truth was that he held me tighter, pulled me closer, refused to let me go. He taught me that it didn’t matter how I saw myself. I could hate myself, but he was still going to love me. He was going to hold me until I was better. And we never had to actually talk about what was bothering me. He didn’t care, he just loved me. He wanted me to be okay. He gave me a reason to fight the depression.

Shaking my head, I needed to let the fog go as Austin tried to distract me from everything going on around me. It was the time of the week where we could become absorbed in each other. We didn’t have to focus on what we were doing tomorrow. We didn’t have to make lesson plans for the week. We could go back to worrying about that on Sunday. When the realities of the situation sank back in. Wrapping my arms around Austin’s neck, I pushed myself closer to him. I needed to feel myself pressed up against him. I needed to feel him this way. I just needed him.^ I love you. I’ve needed you since the moment I met you. Nothing could ever change that.

Austin: -Sometimes, I thought that Star didn’t know how much I needed her. She was always so very insistent that it was she who needed me, while I was convinced it was the other way around. Maybe we needed each other. All I knew was that life was better with her than it had ever been without her. I’d been surviving, but not exactly living.

When she drew herself closer to me, I knew what was running through her head, even if she didn’t. She’d been thinking about how at first she tried to push me away, and how I, the stubborn ass that I was, had hung on for dear life instead. I knew I needed her from the beginning.

My arms curled around her body even more tightly, holding her to my chest as leaned my forehead against hers, fingers moving gently along her spine. I couldn’t get her any closer at the moment, as much as I might want to. And I couldn’t stop myself from smiling as I moved in to press a kiss against her lips this time- I love you too, Star. To the moon and back. Don’t ever forget that.

-It was our usual back and forth, the words we told each other when we knew we needed to know how much we cared about each other. There was comfort in the repetition, in the knowing that, no matter what, nothing was going to change the way one of us felt about the other. It was what our whole life here was built on.

A whim hit me, and I didn’t even try to slow myself down as I moved to scoop her up into my arms and carry her back into the office space we shared, curled up in my arms- Now come on, Mrs. DeWitt. I’ve been waiting to have you in my arms all day.

Star: ^This time, hearing him call me Mrs. DeWitt was different. There was a very specific connotation with it. It was as if Austin was flashing back to the moment I married him. The moment he allowed me to be Mrs. DeWitt. The day that we truly became each others. This was something I loved, though. I loved being reminded that I was his. Against everything else, I did actually belong to him. There was nothing that was going to change that.

We never threw around the possession in a bad way. I never felt controlled or abused when he said I was his. In truth, I said he was mine as much as he said I was his. It was something we loved doing. Austin held a piece of my soul that no one could ever touch. I wasn’t willing to let anyone touch it. It was the only thing that belonged solely to him. My words were almost a soft whimper as my hands played with the hair at the back of Austin’s neck^ I’m yours, Mr. DeWitt. And in your arms is where I want to be.

#AndAllIFindIsYou

#oc rp #rp #roleplay #sl

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