#was having Mine Own girl dinner and ILL HAVE YOU FOR BREAKFAST fell on my head like those bricks that hit marv? anyway

[nextstopparis]

uhmm

#was having Mine Own girl dinner and ILL HAVE YOU FOR BREAKFAST fell on my head like those bricks that hit marv? anyway #sorry #bbc merlin #merthur

[atths--twice]

Chapter Seven

Fox was up at dawn the next morning, packing the last of his items, staring out the window and out to the Nile. No more would they have the luxury of beds, fancy dinners, cool places to seek out for a reprieve.

And he could not have been happier at the prospect of living rough.

A knock sounded at his door, surprising him, believing himself to be the only person who could possibly be awake at that early hour. When he opened it, he found Dana, looking happy, but slightly nervous.

“Good morning,” he said with a smile.

“Hello. I know it’s early, but…” She took a deep breath and let it out. “Would you like to have breakfast? Just you and I, before the others wake to join us?” She smiled and, as always seemed to happen, it caused his stomach to flip.

“I would love to have breakfast with you,” he answered and she nodded. “Let me get my jacket and we can go downstairs.”

It was slightly cooler in the mornings, and he also had something for Dana tucked inside the inner pocket. He had wanted to give it to her on Christmas, but mistakes being made, he was unable to do so. As they would now be alone, possibly for the last time in a while, he knew the timing was perfect.

Closing his door and locking it, he fell in step beside her. She was quiet but seemed to be giving off the same excited energy he himself was feeling. He looked at her appreciatively, the simple yet attractive style in which she dressed always pleasing to behold.

She did not have overly fashionable clothes, but she did not seem to care or desire them. And yet for he, who had grown up with women of all ages dressed in the latest fashions and the best jewels, her simple dress drew him to her even more. Her beauty was held in the simplicity of dress, her manners, and her intelligence.

And her eyes, which spoke to him, even when her mouth did not.

“Have you everything ready?” he asked and she nodded.

“Yes. I packed and repacked last night. Kept thinking I’d forgotten something. Or could rearrange things and find room to add one more thing.”

“Are you needing something?”

“Not at all. I have everything I need,” she assured him with a smile. “It was simply in case I needed or, more accurately, wanted it.” He laughed softly and nodded in understanding.

The dining room was nearly empty, most of the patrons still sleeping. Suggesting a table on the veranda, she accepted and they sat down. She smiled and he smiled back before the waiter walked up to ask them what they wanted to eat.

After he had walked away, he began to reach into his jacket pocket when she let out a deep breath and turned those blue eyes onto him. They were serious and he drew his hand back, folding them in his lap.

“I want to talk about… to tell you why I came here. You’ve never asked and I’ve never volunteered the information, but I want you to know.” She drew in a breath, licked her lips, and closed her eyes briefly. Opening them, she smiled softly and he waited, not wanting to hurry her.

Coffees and sweet biscuits were set on the table and for a few minutes their attention was diverted. When she had taken a few sips of coffee, she nodded and exhaled.

“I… my family is from Maryland, as I told you, and two houses down from us was a family with three children. We all grew up together, though they were slightly older than me. The youngest boy, Matthew…” At this, she trailed off as her hand went to her throat and he knew what she was going to say. He wanted to stop her, tell her it was not necessary, but she had said she wanted him to know, so he would listen.

“Matthew was two years older than me and I…” She laughed bitterly, shaking her head and wiping at her eyes. He swallowed, hating to see her hurting, but knowing there was nothing he could do to help her. “I tagged along with all of them, equally hating and loving him. He treated me like an annoying little sister, but then brought me flowers or held my hand when I had fallen and scraped my knee. He had a way about him. I was in love with him for most of my life.” She smiled at him with tears in her eyes and she sniffled, dabbing her eyes with a napkin.

“He… he never encouraged it, or expected it, showing attention to other girls which broke my heart. But one summer, I stayed with my grandparents and came home in September before school started. I had changed and he noticed, his attention no longer given to other girls, only me. I was fourteen, he was sixteen, and a far off war had recently been declared. Our lives, though not yet consumed by it, soon would be.” She took a second, drinking more of her coffee, not meeting his eyes.

“We were still the same, but different. I had our lives planned in my mind: engaged once I was eighteen, married by nineteen or twenty, a family not far off. I was so happy.” She let out such a shuddering breath, Fox reached for her hand, not caring what others thought or if she would object. She clung to his hand, still not meeting his eyes, tears on her cheeks.

“Though America had not officially entered the war, we all knew it was imminent. It weighed upon everyone. The Lusitania…” She shook her head and closed her eyes. He knew what she was thinking and it made his stomach turn. Opening her eyes, she exhaled quietly. “When Matthew turned eighteen, in August of 1916, he enlisted in the military. He was so proud, ready to fight the Germans and stomp them out. I was terrified.”

“Dana,” Fox said, as she began to cry quietly, but she shook her head, determined to see her story through.

“When… when war was declared… he was so happy. Oh, that makes him sound… I didn’t mean-”

“I understand,” he whispered and she nodded, her head down.

“He left not long after for training and then to England. He asked me to promise to wait for him. It was the easiest promise I ever made.” She blew her nose in the napkin and wiped her eyes. “He arrived in England in June of 1917 and was killed in October of the same year.” She covered her face and cried and he swallowed down the large lump in his throat, turning his head to give them both a chance to compose themselves.

When he had, he looked at her, seeing her tears were subsiding as she took deep calming breaths. Uncovering her face, she looked at him, tears clinging to her lashes.

“My life was planned. I only wanted a husband and a family. And I lost it all. My life ended when his did. My heart was broken.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It was… I can’t describe it. I…” She wiped her eyes and shook her head. “I was devastated. Then angry. Then devastated again. My brother came home, wounded but alive, and I hated him for it. My sister’s husband had not fought, a childhood illness of scarlet fever keeping him from doing so. I hated him too. I hated all of them, until I found an old book of mine, one Matthew and used to read together, about the gods and goddesses of Egypt, planning one day to see them together. That’s when I read about Kha’ari. When my heart was broken, I found her.”

He took a drink and tried to dislodge the lump which once again sat there, as she cried softly for a second.

“My path was clear, I needed to come here, to find her temple. My parents didn’t want me to leave, my father was adamant that I stay, wanting to keep an eye on me, but I was still angry, still hurting. I had to leave. I came here with my aunt and uncle, two people who knew to keep quiet about subjects and let me grieve. They helped set me up at my flat and get me the job at the museum in a training program. They left me and for the first time I felt like I could breathe. When I discovered there was not a temple dedicated to Kha’ari, I was broken again. I did my work, but felt empty for quite a while. But when King Tutankhamun was discovered, I once again felt hopeful. Felt that spark within me ignite, just as it did for you.”

She smiled and he stared at her, once again amazed by her, and by women in general. Women who suffer and hurt, yet carry on every day without giving any indication of their pain.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again and she frowned. “I had no idea.”

“I hadn’t told you, how could you have known?” she asked softly.

“I kissed you. I… should not have done that, not when you…”

“Fox…”

“I took liberties and you’re… grieving… you’re hurting.”

“No, Fox,” she said, softly still. “No. Well, not exactly. I did grieve. I suppose I always will, but it’s… mellowed. It’s evened out. I’m not hurting anymore. Not the way I was. I have a new path now. It’s this… and after this… I don’t know. But, my grief and pain are no longer the same.”

“That’s why you want to find it. To thank her,” he stated, as it all finally made sense and she smiled.

“When I first arrived and did not find it here, when all I had wanted was to offer up my pain to her and have it taken from me, I wanted it for different reasons. But now, five years have passed since the worst day of my life, and yes, I want to thank her.”

He stared at her and felt a new desire grow within him. If it took years, he would work to find that temple for her, to present to her the opportunity to give her proper thanks.

If she asked him for the moon, he would attempt to try, wanting nothing more than to see her happy.

____________________

They were quiet after her story, but a comfortable quiet that did not feel strained. He kept feeling he should reciprocate with his own story, but it did not feel like the right moment. That had not been what drove her to speak, so he remained silent.

“The dress your mother sent two years ago,” he said, her eyes raising to his in question, as the puzzle pieces he knew of her life began to fall into place.

“Yes,” she said with a nod. “She sent it with a note hoping it would be something I would wear ‘out with a young man.’  I never found an occasion worthy of it, until recently anyway.” She smiled and he nodded.

“Or the young man, I suppose,” he joked and she held his gaze, saying nothing as she then looked away.

Clearing his throat, finding double meaning in her answer, or lack thereof, he once again reached toward his jacket pocket and took out the gift he had purchased for her a few days past, placing it onto the table. Pushing it toward her, he watched her looking at it.

“I noticed that your journal was nearly full as you wrote in it recently. I knew you needed a new one, and I had planned on making it a Christmas gift, but…” He pulled his hands back and she smiled as she looked at the dark, rich brown of the leather.

“Thank you. I was in need of a new journal… oh, Fox…” she breathed and then gasped as she opened the journal and saw what he had added to it.

Every night before he had gone to sleep, he sketched copies of his sketches from his own journal into hers. The first three pages were dedicated to the sketches of what they had seen and what had caught his eye.

“This is beautiful. Oh, the details of this one… Fox. This is from Karnak. I remember turning around and you weren’t there. I came back and you were sketching this one.” She looked up at him and he smiled with a nod. “Thank you, this is an amazing gift. One I will treasure always.”

He nodded, saying nothing, her story weighing heavily on his mind as they finished their meal. He was thoughtful as they left the veranda and for the first time, her words did not reach his ears as they walked and she spoke to him. His mind was full and he needed time to think of all he had learned.

The arrival of the men was a welcome distraction, their excitement driving away the heaviness of the morning. They were all laughing and talking, Pierre both writing and signing.

Their trunks were brought down and added to the wagons, a third one procured for all of the extra bits they had not accounted for, the others too full to hold any more.

They had to ferry across the river one wagon at a time, the weight of all too heavy to sustain them if they did not. Once they were all together, they set off. Akl drove one wagon, his boys the others, with everyone else on horseback, using borrowed horses which would be brought back when they were settled.

It would take nearly three full days to reach their final destination, needing to stop and camp for two nights. The weather was perfect, the sky cloudless, the company easy. No one could have asked for a better start.

By the time they stopped for the day, they were sore and tired. Akl’s sons began to prepare a fire as he set about making them dinner.

The three men insisted they had bedrolls and were not in need of a tent for two nights, so long as the fire was warm, they would be quite fine.

Fox insisted they put up the smaller tent for Dana, and though she refused, not wanting to be of any trouble, with the help of Sobek and Atum it was quickly erected and her bed made up. As she stepped inside to have a look at it, she brushed Fox’s arm, her eyes thanking him.

They ate and sat around the fire talking, getting to know one another better.

John, 28, was from Kansas, the middle of six boys, and the son of a very tough man to please. He was cruel at times, enticing his sons to squabble and fight one another, believing it made them stronger. No weak sons for him, thank you.

“Although it doesn’t excuse me,” John said, as he looked at Dana. “It’s part of why I was willing to leave when we first met. My father’s voice in my ear telling me a man should never be led by a woman. That I was weak if I allowed it.”

“I understand. I do,” Dana said softly, but she shook her head. “It doesn’t mean that it’s right, however. To be diminished because of my sex… to be thought as less than another, it is unfair.”

Pierre clapped his hands at this, nodding vigorously and tapping his chest. He signed something to John, who nodded and signed back with a rueful smile.

“Yes, it is unfair and I apologize again, to you both. For my thoughts were somewhat similar when I met Pierre, though it was wrong of me.” He nodded at his friend again. “It’s hard. To get that voice out of your head, even after all this time. I haven’t seen my father in nearly ten years. I left home when I was eighteen, moving from place to place doing odd jobs and never went back. I got into a lot of scraps and some of them… I’m surprised I survived. Surprised I survived that, more than I survived the war. But I did and I learned from them, though not enough it seems. I apologize to you once again, Miss Scully.” He bowed his head to her and she smiled kindly at him.

“For the last time,” she stated softly and he grinned as he met her eyes, his forgiveness granted.

Charles, 30, was from London, very near Fox’s family, though they had never met. He had two younger sisters, both now married and in the country somewhere.

“I’ve been away from home for a long time myself. After the war, I couldn’t go back. I was different and the thought of home did not hold the same appeal. My mother had passed while I was in Belgium, the letter from my sister reaching me nearly a month after it happened. I… I read it and put it in my pocket, took one breath, and was back to the fight. I had no time to think about it, to dwell and remember her. I felt nothing because I would not allow myself to do so. I was twenty three, in the middle of a bloody war, and it was I, not my mother who survived.” He shook his head and wiped at his eyes quickly. Pierre clapped him on the back gently and Charles nodded.

“When the war was over, I couldn’t go home. Not even for my sisters. I had to leave, to go anywhere. Anywhere hot. I’d spent nights freezing without a fire and I could not abide a cold London winter. I had to go somewhere warm. I traveled through Africa, visiting many of its countries. I like it here, this continent suits me.” Dana smiled at him and he nodded. Pierre rubbed his back again and looked at Dana and then John.

“Right,” John said. “Charles and I know Pierre’s story, having heard it before, but Charles is not as fluent in sign language as I am, so I’ll be translating for him.” Pierre smiled at Dana again and she smiled back. He began to speak with his hands and John spoke his words quietly.

“I am twenty five, from Bordeaux. My parents have a vineyard there and I have two brothers. An older and a younger. I don’t remember ever being able to speak, though my parents said I did. I fell when I was two and was in the hospital for a long time, though I have no memory of it. I was brought to Paris by train and had surgeries done as my brain was swollen. I survived them, though it was a long time in the hospital, again something I do not remember much of, but from it, I was left unable to speak. I eventually attended schools for the deaf and the mute where I learned sign language. My parents thankfully did not lose their vineyard, as my injuries and costs thereafter were expensive, but it thrived. I will never be in charge of it, my…” Here Pierre paused his hands and took a deep breath. “My younger brother will, my older brother having died in the war.”

It was now Charles’s turn to offer support, his hand on Pierre’s shoulder. Pierre nodded and then shook his head, his hands once again moving quickly.

“I came to Italy four years ago, a doctor there claiming he could treat and cure muteness. I…” Again he paused, his hands lying in his lap. The fire crackled and they all jumped, laughing in embarrassment. Pierre smiled and began again. “I was in love with a young woman and I wanted to be able to speak to her. To speak the words I love you and not just write them. But the treatment was not what I believed it would be. It was…” He swallowed and wiped at his eyes. “Terrible. Just… terrible. I won’t go into more detail.”

“And you never went back to her?” Dana asked softly. Fox looked at her and saw tears on her cheeks as she stared at Pierre. “You didn’t go home?” He shook his head and looked down at his lap, his hands moving, but his gaze not meeting hers.

“No,” John said for him, his voice very quiet. “I was and still am ashamed. Of my imperfections and my cowardice to face her with them.”

“Oh…” Dana breathed and she began to cry softly. Pierre looked up at her and then stood to his feet, walking close to her. He handed her a handkerchief and she took it, grasping his hand. “I’m so sorry. If she loved you, she saw past what you consider imperfections. I know she did.” He shook his head and shrugged, sitting back down as the rest of them were silent.

Dana, after her tears subsided, told them about herself and Matthew. Fox was thankful to her for telling him privately that morning, the shock and pain at hearing her pain would have been hard to hear in front of strangers. He would have been unable to hide his feelings and desire to comfort her.

When she had finished, Pierre was sitting beside her, holding her hand. Their stories were somewhat similar, thus they seemed to find comfort with one another.

All eyes turned to Fox and he cleared his throat. He had never told Dana his whole story and as he relayed it now, of being stabbed and shot, his multiple illnesses both during and after the war, she rose from her seat and sat close to him, taking his large hand in her small one. She would squeeze it when he paused, needing a second to compose himself, the panic rising within him. When he was done, she remained next to him, now holding his hand in both of hers.

“Bloody hell,” Charles said, shaking his head. “We’re all quite a broken bloody mess, aren’t we?” They all laughed, Dana wiping her eyes as she did, still holding onto Fox’s hand with the other.

“I’d say so,” John said almost bitterly. “And with that, I think I’m going to call it a night.”

They all agreed and stood to make their beds ready. Fox walked Dana to her tent and she stopped at the door before going inside. She searched his face and he smiled, not wanting her to worry. She took his hand and squeezed gently.

“Goodnight, Fox,” she whispered.

“And to you, Dana.”

One more squeeze and she let go of his hand, stepping inside the tent. He waited for a second and then rejoined the men around the fire.

He lay on his back looking up at the stars, the sand cool beneath his fingers, and he thought of what Charles said; they were all a broken mess, each in their own way. He turned onto his side and stared at Dana’s tent, hoping she was asleep or at least near to it.

A snore from Akl, around his own smaller fire with his sons, came from his left. The other men seemed to be asleep already also. He closed his eyes, his thoughts once again on Dana, hoping she was able to find peace as she slept.

#The X-Files #XF Fanfic #Alternate Universe #Historical AU #Egypt #On The Road To Discovery #Nearly There

[sonnyboy7son]

Steak and Wine Dinner

Hi everyone! I’m Liliath and I’m new around here :) This is my first story so please be nice to me (please please I am begging you). I hope you all can enjoy my shitty writing and hit me up because I need ~Friends~ around here. Thanks y’all!

---

Shawn Mendes Imagines 

Angst, hurt-comfort, fluff (what even is this mix smh) 

---

Isn’t it ironic how I am currently sitting in a very fancy restaurant yet my eyes are scanning the menu looking for the cheapest item on it? Mains are obviously off the table. I can’t even afford anything from the tapas option. Appetisers? Well, I could go for the classic mushroom soup or the sad garden salad. 

“So, what are you going to have, honey? I’m thinking steak and a nice glass of wine, what do you say?” my boyfriend of 2 years, Shawn, asked while looking at the menu like I do. 

Crap I definitely won’t be able to afford those. 

“Actually, I’m not that hungry so I might go for the mushroom soup,” I said with very little confidence in my voice. 

“Only?” Shawn looked up from the menu. 

“Ye... yeah,” I cleared my throat and put the menu down on the table so that I’m not tempted to go with my impulse and ordering the same things as he is. 

Shawn audibly sighed and put his menu down as well. “OK, be honest with me,” his eyes piercing into mine, “Are you on some kind of sick diet I don’t know about? Cause you know how much I hate it when...”

“No, no I’m not. I swear I’m not,” I cut him off. “I’m just not that hungry,” I shrugged. 

“I don’t buy it,” He shook his head. “All you had for lunch was a measly piece of bread and some boxed milk or something and you didn’t even eat breakfast. You’re telling me you’re not hungry right now?” He raised his left eyebrow at me. 

“Yes,” I didn’t want to give him a long answer because, frankly, I feel very cornered right now and I’m afraid that my voice will give it away. 

“You’re getting a steak. Period.” He raised his hand to catch the attention of the waiter. 

“Shawn...” I am half begging him right now. I really can’t afford a steak and wine dinner. Hell, I can barely afford a McDonald’s dinner these days. 

“Oh, and a glass of wine,” He said it sternly and I know better than to argue with him when he’s at this stage. 

“Hi, yes, we would like 2 of this premium Kobe beef steak. Medium-well, please. And 2 glasses of your finest red wine. Thank you,” He smiled at the waiter who took our order. 

I sighed in defeat. Well, there goes my lunch for at least the next 4 days. I’m sure I can mooch off Alessia’s, my best friend, lunch or something. I’ll figure it out. 

“You better finish every single piece of the damn steak, you hear me?” Shawn threatened me playfully. 

“Yes, dad,” I rolled my eyes at him and we both broke into giggles. 

---

I must say the steak and wine were beautiful while they lasted. I haven’t had a proper fancy dinner in a while because Shawn was away for so long for the tour. I’ve gotten quite acquainted with ramen and sandwiches these couple of months. That’s why it’s no surprise that the minute the buttery piece of steak entered my mouth, I almost cried in happiness. 

Man, I sound so broke right now it’s embarrassing. 

I am, however, slapped back to reality when the bill came and the total has 4 digits in it. Shawn quickly whips out his wallet and fished his black platinum card out and gave it to the waiter. 

“How much do I owe you?” I asked with a slight tremble in my voice. 

“Oh, don’t worry about it, honey. It’s my treat,” He finishes his wine and gestures me to do the same. 

“No, babe, you know we don’t do that in this relationship,” I shook my head in disagreement. 

“Babe...” he takes my hand from across the table and comfortingly rubs the top of it with his thumb. “Let me treat you this one time, OK? It’s been a while since we see each other and I want to make sure that my best girl is properly fed,” He said with his signature assuring smile that I love so much. 

“Besides, you can pick up the bill the next time around, if it bothers you that much,” He continued. 

Yes, that is the problem. I might not be able to do that until my next paycheck with doesn’t come until the end of this month and by then, Shawn will be gone again for the tour. I took a deep breath and looked down on my lap. Why must I be so goddamn poor?!

“Babe, hey,” Shawn tilted his head, trying to get a look at my face, “you okay, honey?” He asked with his gentle voice. 

“Yeah, no, sorry. I’ll... I’ll get the check for the next meal, OK?” I tried to smile at him, I really did. But, I’m sure it came out more like a grimace because Shawn’s expression went from slightly worried to really concerned. 

----

“Thank you for dinner today. It’s really sweet of you,” I said as I unbuckle my seatbelt, getting ready to hop off the car and run into my bedroom to mope and feel sorry for myself because of how poor I am. 

“Good night,” I kissed his cheek and when I was about to get off, Shawn’s hand quickly grabbed mine. 

“Wait, I need to talk to you,” He said in such an urgent manner that it scares me. 

“Is... everything ok?” my body is facing him but my eyes are avoiding him on they’re own. 

“Look, I wasn’t planning to bring this up myself because I was hoping that you will be the one to tell me first, but...,” He sighed, “Babe, I know.” 

“Know... what?” I sat back and play with my finger.

“Why didn’t you tell me that your mom is very sick?” His body is now facing me and I want nothing but to run away from this situation. “Honey, come on, look at me,” He coaxed when he sees that I have no intention to face him, but instead opting to look out the heavily tinted window into the dark abyss. 

“Y/n,” crap, he’s serious now. I slowly turned my body and looked up to find his very concerned expression. 

“This is exactly why I don’t want to tell you, Shawn,” at this point, I just want to cry, but I know how much I hate it when people cry during arguments so I’m not going to do that to him. 

“What? Because I worry? I’m pretty sure that’s an obvious reaction when someone found out that their significant other has been surviving on ramen and convenience store sandwiches because her mom is seriously ill?!” He raised his voice a little bit. 

“How did you know about that part?” I squinted my eyes at him. 

“Alessia told me, OK, because she was so worried about you. She saw your eye bags and you skin getting paler by the day, and at first, I thought it couldn’t be that bad. But, now that I am looking at you, I almost want to beat myself up for not intervening sooner,” Shawn pulls at his curls in desperation and I hate seeing him like this when it’s obviously not his fault. At all. 

“Shawn, look, please don’t be mad at yourself. I was the one who didn’t tell you and it is for a reason,” I try to comfort him. 

“And that is?” He asked.

I took a deep breath before opening my voice, “You were on tour. You were having your moment and was surrounded by people who love and care about you, and I can’t possibly ruin that for you, babe,” my eyes start glistening with tears and I try my best to suppress them. Not now, not right now, please. 

“Oh, honey,” Shawn grabs me and brings me into his warm and comforting embrace. The smell of his perfume still apparent despite how late it is. I let myself melt into his body and my tears immediately melt out of my eyes. 

‘You betrayer’ I mentally scolded myself. 

We both stayed like that for a few more minutes, maybe even 10 or 15, I don’t know. I let myself cry after so long of holding it in and keeping a strong front in front of everyone. 

My dad passed away last year and my mom fell sick a few months after his passing. I am the only child so I have to take care of her; the only family member that I have in this world. It has been really hard, I can admit it now. Juggling uni, work, while at the same time taking care of my hospitalised mother? Not to mention the mental trauma that I went through - it’s truly a miracle for me to still be standing at this moment. 

“Honey,” Shawn slowly detached himself away from me to immediately cradle my ugly sobbing face in his warm, huge hands. “From now on I want you to be honest with me, OK. I thank you for your consideration of my feelings and situation, but I want you to also give me the option to take care of you when you need me the most,” He wipes my tears with his thumb. 

My eyes water again at his kind words. I truly don’t deserve this Greek god before me. 

“No, no, no. Enough crying. I’m sorry to bring it up, but I can’t stand looking at you torturing yourself in secret anymore,” He kisses my cheeks and forehead, hoping to provide any sort of comfort for me. 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered with my after-sob coarse voice. 

“Don’t be. You are the strongest and most considerate woman I know and I am very proud of you,” He smiles before kissing my lips. 

#shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes scenarios #shawn mendes imagines #mendes army #imagines #first writing

[jovialyouthmusic]

Uneasy Lies the Head

A Royal Romance AU fanfic followup to Charlotte’s Choice

1 Mourning and Doubt 

Queen Charlotte of Cordonia deals with the death of her Father King Constantine, and an old enemy strikes.

@ao719 @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @sleepwalkingelite@boneandfur @blackcatkita @brightpinkpeppercorn @choicescommunity@darley1101 @drakewalkerrosenberg @debramcg1106 @fluffy-marshmallow-heart @goirishsunshine @gardeningourmet @livingthroughchoices@likethetailofacomet @mrs-nazario @mind-reader1 @ooo-barff-ooo@silviasutton1989 @speedyoperarascalparty @zaffrenotes @missevabean@mrsdrakewalkerblog @cora-nova @missameliep @tanelle83 @endlessly-searching-for-you @jlouise88 @drakenazario @tabithacarlisle@furiousherringoperatortoad @notoriouscs @classylady1234@wickedgypsymoon @carabeth @choices-fangirl @indiana-jr @indiacater@noey718-blog @katedrakeohd @bobasheebaby @annekebbphotography  @kennaxval @sirbeepsalot @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @aworldoffandoms@iplaydrake @drakesensworld @drakewalkerisreal @samcpossum

1 Mourning and Doubt

Drake had arrived at the King’s room just too late. Charlotte sat by his bedside, the machines switched off, the room silent, her head bowed, holding his cooling hand. He walked rapidly over to her and knelt by her side.

‘My Queen’ he said simply, but she tugged at him to get up, tears in her eyes.

‘Never kneel to me, my love’ she said softly ‘You’re my equal, you’ll be by my side. I’ll announce it after the funeral’ She sent for Hana and told her to remain with the King until she had finished with the Press.

She had washed her face and gone out to the Press, taking him with her to stand by her side, unannounced as her Consort. She told the nation of their King’s death and declared three days of mourning to be followed by a State funeral. She stated that Anton was guilty of treason and stripped of his title and lands, and anyone who helped him would also be accused of the same.  She returned to the silent room where her Father lay lifeless, Hana sitting dutifully by his side, her own eyes red. She looked down at his body.

‘It’s funny, it felt like he was still here before. He’s gone now.’ She turned to the doctor ‘I want his body treated with respect. No more examinations, no post mortem. He’s to be laid in State at the Palace for all to see.’ The doctor protested.

‘Your Majesty, there are things we must do…’ She held up her hand to quiet him.

‘He can be prepared for viewing, nothing more. I am your Queen, and I command it’ The doctor bowed.

‘Yes your Majesty’ he answered. 

She turned to Hana.

‘Hana, I appoint you my personal aide. I hope you will accept – we can discuss terms in due time.’ Hana dropped a curtsey ‘I know laying Father in state at the Palace will create security problems, but I am sure you can liaise with Bastien and Lewis to ensure my safety.’ She put her hand to her face, rubbing her forehead with her fingers. ‘I need to rest. Will it be safe to return to the Palace?’

‘Yes your Majesty’ replied Hana ‘The Royal Guard has combed it from top to bottom. I’ll send for a car to take you back’

 At the Palace an armed guard stood at the gate. It had been night time when the King passed away, and now the clear light of dawn now broke over the capital and a new Monarch reigned. The staff welcomed her with both sorrow and joy and she made her way straight to her suite, Drake following a few steps behind. Lewis was the one to stand guard in the corridor, as Bastein and Hana co-ordinated security details, he from his hospital bed, she from wherever she was needed.

Once in her room, she sat heavily on the bed and turned to Drake. Her whole world had changed in just a few hours, and it all weighed heavily on her shoulders.

‘Don’t leave me Drake, stay with me’ She pleaded wearily. He smiled ruefully

‘I can’t do that right now, not until I’m declared Consort’ She tried to protest, tears starting to her eyes ‘You’re Queen now, nothing must tarnish your image. The country needs you, needs to respect you. Don’t worry, I’ll be seen leaving your room – I’ll sing and dance all the way back to mine if I have to, to make it plain I left. But I’ll come back in secret along the passages, I promise. I won’t be long’ He knelt and turned his face up to kiss her softly. ‘Soon’ he said simply, and she knew he didn’t just mean in the moment.

When he returned she was asleep where he’d left her, laying back on the bed, lower legs hanging over the edge of the high four poster bed. Gently he lifted her feet to take off her shoes and shake her awake.

‘Drake’ she said sleepily ‘You came back. I - I fell asleep’ He chuckled, touched by her trust and her vulnerability.

‘I noticed, Princess – my Queen. You can’t sleep like this, let me help you out of these clothes’ He sat her up and she shrugged out of the clothes she had put on at the lodge Anton had taken her to. It brought it all back – the fear, the sorrow, the realisation that Anton would stop at nothing to get the Crown. But Drake’s token hung round her neck, and he was there – her rock, her refuge, her lover.

‘Father, what happened to grandma? Why isn’t she here any more?’ the young Charlotte asked after the funeral of his mother. He knelt down to her, and scooped her into his arms, holding her against his chest. His cheeks were wet.

‘She’s not with us any more my sweet girl. Nobody knows for sure what happens when someone dies’ he set her down and carried on, half crouching on the marble floor of the ballroom ‘She loved you very much, and I’m sure she didn’t want to go, but she was very ill’

‘Will she come back Father, I miss her’ He sighed.

‘I’m sorry my dear, perhaps you will see her in your dreams, but she won’t come back to our waking world. I like to think that wherever she is, she’s watching over us. She’s with all her loved ones – your Gramps who you never met, with her Mummy and Daddy. She’ll still be there in your heart whenever you remember her. I’ll remember her too, and she’ll always be a part of us.’ Charlotte smiled.

‘That sounds nice Papa. Can I go and play with Drake and Olivia?’ He smiled.

‘Yes darling. I’m proud of my little girl for understanding something that a lot of grown ups find difficult. Go and play, your mother will call you when it’s time to come in.’

Charlotte slipped under the heavy covers of the bed. Drake slid in beside her for the first time, and she curled into his side and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

The three days of mourning passed in a blur of meetings and office sessions. Drake assisted when he could, even if it was only to bring her fresh coffee or make sure she ate. The funeral had been planned in advance and there were only small details to arrange. She poured her energy into drafting reform, swiftly abolishing the Chastity clause, smoothly and without incident before drawing up other plans to present to the Council after the Coronation. She planned to abolish the obligation of Dukes and Duchesses to serve on the Council, setting in motion the facility for ordinary citizens to be elected in their place – a Council of Citizens that would hold power in tandem with the nobles, eventually merging into one Council. She had Drake draft out a plan to leave a wing of Applewood for her use but turn the rest of the property over to an organisation that would set up a scheme of training for young people. Olivia planned to turn part of her own property over to the orphanage. Brad departed for England to see to his own estate, promising to return for the Funeral.

As Anton had been made landless, she put in motion a plan to hand Valtoria over to Drake as soon as he had been declared Consort and with it a place on the Council of Nobles. She prepared a communication for all the Duchies urging them to stop holding overly ostentatious balls and dinners and spend more on charitable causes. The Royal events would continue, but in a scaled down version, some events being dropped altogether, such as the annual hunt.  

At night Drake came to her room unseen, and left before her staff woke her and brought her breakfast, returning in public to eat with her. When they were alone at night they made love tenderly and slowly, Charlotte taking comfort in their complete union, wondering how she had lived for so long without knowing such bliss.  It balanced out her busy days and she mourned the loss of the carefee days of the social season. She understood why Constantine had thrown her into the world of diplomacy and economics and governance; if she had not had that experience she would be floundering now.

The day of the funeral came, and defiantly she walked behind the hearse with Drake, as she had some months ago behind her stepmother’s cortege. Bastien had urged her to travel in an armoured car, but she wanted to appear free of fear in front of the people. Security was tight, the Guard running ragged after working long hours policing the Palace where Constantine had laid in state, citizens and nobles queuing to pay their respects. Charlotte had promised Bastien that she would hole up in the Palace for three days afterwards to lessen the load on her loyal forces.

Thankfully the funeral passed without incident despite Anton still being at large, no trace of him to be found. The following day she welcomed a television recording crew into the Palace to film an official statement to be broadcast later that day. She recorded it in Her Fathers’ wood panelled study that was now put aside for her exclusive use

‘Citizens of Cordonia, I thank you for the heartfelt sentiments on the death of King Constantine. As you know, there has been no official Coronation, although I am legally the King’s heir. There are many reforms under way that will change the way our beautiful country is run, of which you will be informed very shortly. I would like to announce that in five days’ time there will be a formal Coronation ceremony at the cathedral, but in advance of that, I wish to announce the identity of the man who will serve as my consort.’ She paused, knowing that although she was not being broadcast live, she would need to leave a little time for people to process what she said.

‘You will be pleased to hear that I have chosen Duke Drake Walker, whose support over the years has been so valuable to my Father and myself. You will also know that his status as Duke is unique, his title having been handed to him in honour of his father’s service to the Crown, and coming with no land or property. I hereby announce that he is to be appointed Duke of Valtoria and awarded a place on the Council, in the absence of the traitor Anton Severus, who has forfeited his own title and lands.’ She paused again, to allow her words to sink in.

‘I have already informed the former Lord Severus’s staff at his properties, and offered them a place under Duke Walker if they so wish, providing that they swear their loyalty and fealty to him and to myself. They are free to find employment elsewhere if they wish, but as you know, anyone who retains loyalty to Anton Severus is by implication, guilty of treason, or of aiding and abetting a traitor to the Crown. It saddens me that any of my citizens hold me in contempt and I offer immunity to any who truly wish to give me their loyalty. Again I urge any of you with knowledge of the whereabouts of Anton Severus to step forward and give up that information or hand him over to my Royal Guard. I will be lenient with anyone who does so.’ She paused again.

‘I wish prosperity and happiness to all the citizens of Cordonia, no matter what their status. I look forward to serving my country and helping to achieve that prosperity for all. God Bless Cordonia’ Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief, and the camera crew turned off the lights and started to pack away. The director turned to her.

‘Thankyou your Majesty, we’ll look the footage over for any flaws and get back to you as soon as we can with the film ready for broadcast.’

‘There’s to be no editing of my words, nothing left out or changed around’ Charlotte asserted ‘If anything material is changed, I will bring down the full force of the law on you, is that clear?’ The director swallowed.

‘Of course your Majesty, I just meant that we have to check the quality of the film. There will be no editing, nothing will be changed, you have my word.’ Charlotte smiled warmly

‘I’m sure you will carry out my instructions, I just had to make things absolutely clear. It is vital that everyone understand my intentions. I only want the best for my country.’

Later that evening, Charlotte sat with Drake, Hana and Bastien, who had been discharged from hospital and was on light duties as he healed. She wished she could allow him time off, but the handover of power was her priority, and she was not formally crowned as yet. They waited for the broadcast. The film crew had not been allowed to leave the Palace following the recording and a member of security remained with them until the broadcast was due.

All went as planned, the film crew had not changed anything – but just as Charlotte had come to the part where she reminded her citizens that Anton was a traitor, the picture faded and static appeared on the screen. She frowned, and Drake got up to check the connection at the back of the set, only to hear Charlotte gasp as he lost sight of the screen.

‘Oh my God’ whispered Hana ‘Anton Severus – he’s hacked the broadcast, he’s about to speak’

#charlotte's choice #uneasy lies the head #the royal romance #drake walker #choices the royal romance #trr #trr drake #choices trr #trr fanfic #trr choices #trr au

[scatteredenthusiasticwriter]

Rag Doll

Sarah sat on a flat back chair from the 1800s and her elbows were resting on an antique dining table from the 1900s. Her long brown hair hung down, covering her face, while she scrutinized a cameo brooch trying to date it for a client. Antiques acquired over the years surrounded her with history. Sarah was so involved inspecting the brooch she didn’t hear the bell ring when the door to her little shop opened.

“Dr. Miles?” Sarah looked up and her face emerged as her dark black hair parted. Her glasses had a magnifying glass attached to each lens. Standing before her was a tall, lanky man wearing a black suit. He looked like a G-Man from the Prohibition Days. “Dr. Sarah Miles?” Sarah nodded in acknowledgement.

“My name is James Murray. I am with the law firm Finch Bellows Marten. I am sorry to tell you this, but, your uncle Benjamin Miles passed away a few weeks ago. The reading of his will is tomorrow at noon at my office on the corner of Main and 5th. I apologize for the late notice.”

“I am surprised my Uncle Benjamin included me in his will. We didn't speak to each other for years. We were at an estate sale years ago, engaged in a fierce bidding war for a rare seventeenth century vase. He won the bid. I never forgave him,” directing her attention back to the brooch.

“I am sorry to hear that. Your Uncle’s three children will be in attendance also," reaching the letter out to her. Sarah accepted the letter and tossed it towards the pile of unread mail teetering at the edge of the table.

James Murray turned and walked towards the door leaving Sarah mumbling to the brooch. He then exited the shop.

Sarah reached for the letter and opened it with a dagger shaped letter opener. The letter said, Sarah Miles is named in the will of Benjamin Miles. We ask that you attend the reading of his last will and testament. 

Could he be leaving me that vase? Curiosity got the better of her and decided to attend the reading.

     # # #

“It’s noon, shouldn’t we start? I can’t wait around to hear what the old man left me,” Lydia stated while pacing.      

“That’s if he left you anything. Dad told me I will always be his favorite, even after he’s gone," Elizabeth said. 

“Enough from the both of you vying for the top position. What does it matter? The fact is he’s gone, never to return, thank God," stated John.

James Murray shifted papers, uncomfortable with the conversation. There was a knock then the Sarah stepped inside. The three cousins looked at each other, mouths agape. Making no eye contact, Sarah walked to the back of the room and sat down.

“What the hell is she doing here? I thought this was a private reading for family only," Elizabeth bellowed.

Lydia agreed adding, “You’re not family. When was the last time you saw or spoke to my father? Ahh yes, it was at that auction where you lost out winning the vase. It looks very nice on Dad’s mantle.”

Sarah shifted in her seat hoping this would be over soon.

James began,“Today we are reading the last will and testament of Benjamin Miles.” 

John interrupted, “Skip all the legal gibberish and get to the bequeathed part.”

James inhaled, then exhaled, “I, Benjamin Miles, being of sound mind and body do bequeathed the following. To my daughter Lydia, I leave her a set of china that belonged to my great grandmother, and $5,000. To my daughter Elizabeth, I leave my rare collection of bottles, and $6,000. To my son John, I leave my Volkswagen Beetle and $1.00. To the local museum I leave all my antiques. To my niece Sarah, you never forgave me for winning the bid on the seventeenth century vase.  I am giving you that vase along with my curio cabinet and any and all items contained within.”

“Wow, I thought John got cheated. Looks like Sarah wins the prize for the most cheated. I have no doubt you will research that cabinet to death," Lydia said. 

“Hopefully your PhD in History pays off. Maybe there is hidden treasure inside," laughed Elizabeth.

# # #

Sarah instructed the delivery men to place the curio cabinet against the wall in the living room. Sarah tipped the movers and escorted them to the door, locking it behind her. She stood in front of the dark wooden cabinet, her fingers gliding along every smooth inch. When Sarah opened the framed glass door, something jumped on her shoulder and propelled into the cabinet, sending tingles of fear down her spine. Milo, you silly cat, get out of there before you scratch it. Milo sniffed and pawed at a spot in the center of the shelf, until Sarah pulled him out. What did you find? Using her fingers, as though reading braille, she glided them around. She discovered an indent, circular in shape like a quarter sized button. She pushed down on it. Without warning, the bottom panel of the cabinet shot open hitting both of her shins, causing her to yell and jump backwards into Milo, sending him running. There were stories going around the antique community about a handful of curio cabinets, built in the1800s, having secret drawers. Her smile broadened as she gazed upon at. 

The drawer contained a skeleton key, an old newspaper dated 1878, and a rag doll. The headline read, The Town of Goldchester’s Mysterious Illness Targets All Its Young Girls. The next story was about a young girl named Sally Monroe who died in a gold mine collapse also in Goldchester. Sarah read when the town’s people dug her out, she was cradling her rag doll, fingertips bloodied and black. She fully opened the paper and an envelope fell to the floor. It contained a deed to a house in Goldchester, Arizona. 

# # #

The cab driver waiting outside of Sarah’s shop honked twice. Sarah emerged juggling her suitcase and a well worn brown leather briefcase. The driver placed the suitcase in the trunk and reached for the briefcase. “I got this one," Sarah insisted then sat in the backseat. The briefcase held the skeleton key and the deed. The cab driver shrugged his shoulders. He closed the trunk, got into the cab and drove Sarah to the airport.

The plane landed with a thud, startling her. She set her watch back two hours to adjust the time difference from Massachusetts. She exited the airport and right into Arizona’s dry heat. A cab pulled in front of her and she got in, instructing the driver to take her to the Goldchester Bed & Breakfast. After a twenty minute ride, the cab slowed and pulled over in front of a two story building with a wrap around porch and a two seater swing. Sarah tipped the driver and collected her suitcase. She climbed the three creaky wooden steps and entered the Bed and Breakfast.

Sarah hit the gold bell on the counter. From the back appeared a stout woman wearing an apron covered with flour. 

“Welcome. You must be Sarah Miles. I’m Haddie Wilcox. Been expecting you.Your room is ready, handing Sarah the key. Second floor, first door on the right. Dinner is at 6:00pm sharp," Haddie said returning to the back.

Sarah climbed the stairs and entered her room. She placed the suitcase on the bed and headed back out to find the Town Hall, briefcase in hand. Unsuccessful in her search for information, Sarah walked the few blocks to the house. She stood in front of 111 Miners Circle, a quaint little blue two story house with a white picket fence and white shutters.

Sarah used the skeleton key to unlock the door. She stepped inside to find the entire bottom floor completely furnished with white sheets covering each piece. Sarah removed the white sheets from a couch, two Queen Anne chairs, and a writing desk she dated around 1825. She spied a curio cabinet in the corner, her eyes widening in disbelief. The curio cabinet looked exactly like hers. Sarah walked over to the cabinet and opened the glass framed door, thankful there was no cat this time. Sarah glided her fingers across the shelf, discovering the indent. This time she stepped back as she pushed down on the button. The bottom panel opened, just like hers, revealing the same newspaper, but this time it contained a gold key. The room turned cold as ice. An even colder breeze circled around Sarah, causing her to shiver. Sarah snatched up the newspaper, the gold key, and threw the rag doll into the briefcase as she ran out of the house.

Haddie, and her young daughter Laura, were waiting at the table when Sarah rushed in, out of breath. She apologized for being late. Haddie smiled and passed the chicken and gravy. After dinner, Sarah and Haddie retired to the living room to have coffee.

“Haddie, back home I found a deed and skeleton key in a hidden drawer inside the curio cabinet I inherited from my Uncle Benjamin. I went to Town Hall today for information but the house doesn’t have much history. The address is 111 Miners Circle, so I went there and to my surprise, the skeleton key opened the door. Inside I found a curio cabinet, just like the one back home, that has the same hidden drawer. It too contains the same old newspaper with the story about Sally Monroe, who died in a gold mine that collapsed. When they dug her out she was still cradling her rag doll. The rag doll in both papers looks exactly like this one". Sarah held the rag doll out to Haddie.

Haddie gasped, “Did you say your Uncle’s name was Benjamin? Benjamin Miles?”

Sarah nodded. “Oh my, his grandfather, your great grandfather also named Benjamin was the one who found Sally. Story has it that Benjamin was more of a grandfather to Sally than her own. She would visit often to see the rag doll inside the curio cabinet. During one visit Benjamin gave Sally the rag doll. Oh, how she loved that doll.  After the funeral, Sally’s mother gave Benjamin the rag doll back as a reminder of Sally. Shortly after Sally’s death, young girls in town began getting sick with strange symptoms. The girls complained of a heaviness on their chest.  Their skin dried like a mummy’s skin and their fingertips turned black. Each girl cried out for their doll while gasping for air. No one could figure out why each girl cried out for their doll before they passed. The town lost every young girl that year.”

Sally asked, “Was the cause ever discovered?” Haddie shook her head.

The following morning, Sarah walked back to the house, taking her briefcase containing the rag doll with her. As she approached the house, she thought she saw faces staring down at her from each window. Sarah entered a bone chilling house. All the furniture was upside down, the white linens rolled and twisted into a large rag doll. Sarah’s briefcase started shaking. She opened it and watched the rag doll convulse. She shut the briefcase with shaking hands and ran for the door. As she reached for the handle the door slammed shut. She heard children’s laughter and running overhead. Sarah’s curiosity overshadowed her fear. She stood tall, and after taking a few long breaths that could be seen, she climbed the stairs. The doors on the second floor opened and slammed shut repeatedly, all except for one. Sarah approached the unopened door when something touched her, chilling her to the bone. 

“What do you want?” Sarah shouted. The landing swayed throwing her off balance. She tried to run but the stairs got further away with each step. Her chest felt like a heavy weight was on it, causing her to fall, then her finger tips turned blood red, then black. Sarah watched in horror as the skin on her arms shriveled, shrouding her bones. She began gasping for air as she cried out, “Sally stop.”

The walls heaved as though breathing. The door in front of her swing open revealing a blinding light. At its center a silhouette appeared. Sarah attempted to get up but the weight held her hostage. The silhouette glided towards her, the blinding light blown out like a candle. The white silhouette swayed like a sheer curtain in the breeze. Sarah watched as more silhouettes came into focus. Young girls now encircled Sally.

Sally’s face began to distort, blood red eyes glowing. She ascended, weightless arms outstretched, and with a deafening scream, demanded her Maggie be given back. Sally plunged down onto Sarah pinning her in place. The girls were now screaming for Maggie to be returned. Sarah nodded in fear, hoping they understood. Sally rose, allowing Sarah to get up. She ran down the stairs, but, at the bottom Sally blocked the path, her distorted face aflame. 

“I have your doll. Please, let me get it.” Sarah pleaded. 

Sally glided aside. Sarah ran to her briefcase and pulled the rag doll out. Sally was instantly upon her and snatched the doll from her hands and began cradling it. Sarah watched as Sally and the girls rejuvenated into themselves again.

They motioned for Sarah to follow them upstairs. The once closed door now opened, revealing a white light bright as a star. Sarah watched as each girl entered the light, waving goodbye as they disappeared. Sally remained. 

“I am so happy to have Maggie back. I missed her so. I took the young girls from town to help me find my Maggie. You brought Maggie home,” Sally said with a contented smile as she walked to Sarah and kissed her on the cheek. Sally made her way towards the light. As she entered, the light folded into itself engulfing Sally, then darkness. 

Sarah went downstairs and noticed a glow coming from the corner of the room. It was the gold key. A faint voice whispered in her ear, “Go to the painting of your family.” 

Confused, Sarah walked over to a painting of her great grandfather and Uncle Benjamin. This is my ancestor’s house? She tried to take the painting off the wall then noticed the hinges. She pulled the picture aside, revealing a wall safe. Sarah used the gold key to open the safe and was flabbergasted at what was inside.

# # #

The wall safe contained some of the gold Sally’s father mined. He gave it to Sarah's Great Grandfather Benjamin as a way of thanking him for trying to save Sally. The gold was now worth $500 Million.

The cork popped off of the Dom Perignon hitting the ceiling then bounced back in front of Milo. He jumped and ran. Sarah raised her Champagne filled glass thanking her uncle. 

“I guess I was your favorite after all.”

[amirrorneverlies]

𝒮𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 – 𝒮𝑜𝓁𝑜 𝒷𝓎 𝐵𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶

𝒢𝒾𝓇𝓁𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝓃 𝑜𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓃, 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓇𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒. - 𝓻.𝓱 𝓢𝓲𝓷

‘Hey Arizona! I hear you had an interesting time last weekend?’ #Mike came running up from behind me, half jumping onto my back with his arm resting over my shoulders. The shock of the unexpected show of affection made me jump out of my skin, dropping the books I had been carrying out of my hands. ‘Sheesh Arizona, I didn’t mean to scare you there, here let me help.’ We both leant down to collect the fallen books as the other students walked around us.

“Nah it’s okay Mike, I was just lost in my own world.” I half smiled up at him as he stood with his hands full of the books he’d managed to gather. “What’s up anyway, I am guessing Jess has been talking?” I asked straightening myself, gathering my things from him.

‘Did you expect anything less, the girl likes to be the centre of attention when Lauren isn’t in the picture.’ This took me by surprise, and it must have shown. ‘What? I’m not blind Bella I’ve known these girls all my life. It’s just always been easier to let Lauren do her thing. And Jess never really got a look in until you came to school. You know, some would say you giving Jessica the confidence to shine is what created this little monster. Who knew you had the power?’ He said in a Hitchcock manor laughing afterwards.

I rolled my eyes at him as we started to walk towards the cafeteria for lunch. “Who knew I was so powerful? I mean you know with great power comes great responsibility.” Shrugging his arm off my shoulder I pulled the door open for him to go ahead before me. But #Mike reached up and held the door just above my head leaning his body into mine, speaking with a stage whisper.

‘Wise words… I hear you share… young Jedi…. I do.’ He was trying to do his best Yoda impression for me. I shook my head, staying put until I could tell he wasn’t going to step away or around me. I didn’t want him holding the door out of some misguided understanding that it was more than just that. Him holding the door for a friend.

Ducking out from under him, stepping into a now filled cafeteria. The room was abuzz as it was on most days. My eyes moved over the outskirts of the room, keeping clear of the east side completely, not wanting to picture the five faces who once occupied a table to that side all to themselves once upon a time.

“Bella! Mike! Here!” #Ben called out from our usual table seeing us working our way through the food line. I nodded towards him in acknowledgment, picking up a can of soda and an apple before paying for it.

‘You know Arizona, some would say that’s not a balanced meal there. You really should eat something more.’ I glanced to my hands and shrugged. I knew he had a point, but I’d gotten so used to not really eating in the day until I was home, that I was finding it a habit I couldn’t break. ‘I know I shouldn’t ask…’ He trailed off.

“I’m not a big eater at lunch Mike, I’m more a breakfast and dinner kinda girl really. This will do me until dinner time trust me.” The look he was giving me was one I knew too well. I’d gotten it from #Charlie enough.

‘Bella, Jess here was telling us that Chief Swan grounded you?’ #Ben pulled a chair out for me, but I took one that hadn’t been touched. Setting my books, apple and soda on the table. I knew it was a gesture of kindness, but there was something in that move that said 𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅 𝓎𝑜𝓊, just as #Mike had done with the door. Only thing was that I knew #Ben loved #Angela and his kindness stemmed from me standing up for his girlfriend. But still.

“Is that so?” Sitting myself down, my eyes found #Jessica playing with her fries and then flipping her hair back off her shoulder. With #Lauren out ill today, she was in full swing of stepping up to make sure none of us missed #Lauren in her absence.

“I was concentrating on the message of being a better friend, so I may have missed that part. You all know Charlie is more of a 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓃 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓈 kinda father.” That wasn’t a lie, #Charlie wouldn’t ground me because he would be giving me what I wanted. Alone time. But instead, he wanted me out with friends.

‘Ah. That means you don’t have a reason to say no!’ #Eric was the one to speak up this time.

“No to what?” I asked opening my can of soda looking between the two of them, and then a confused Mike too.

‘Movie and dinner night in Port? We are all going to go on Friday night. There are some good movies we all want to catch, and you would even the numbers out.’ #Ben smiled asking and there was a voice in my head saying that I should find a reason to get out of this. And then another saying this was a good way to show #Charlie that he had nothing to worry about.

‘Sure, she will come, I’ll go pick her up and she can ride down to Port with me.’ Mike’s arm was back around my shoulder. ‘It’s time for a little fun Bella, and there’s this great Pizza place on the way we can stop at?’

I shrugged his arm away, nodded my head. “I hear there is a Die-Hard Marathon on this weekend. We should so catch that one. It’s one of my must-see Christmas movies.” Guns, Blood and an office building under siege felt like a safe bet to me if I was going to do this with them all.

‘Die Hard is not a Christmas movie. And you know we should all be careful; Bella has a way to run off without telling you where she is going.’ #Jessica laughed. This made #Ben frown at her.

‘Yeah, after she sets people who are up themselves straight!’ He leant over towards me. ‘Girls like you are rare Bella Swan, don’t forget that. And Die Hard is 𝙨𝙤 a Christmas Movie. It is set at Christmas, there is a big Christmas party taking place. There is mistletoe. It all counts!’ #Angela squeezed his shoulder as she came to join us with a tray of food.

‘What a morning right, what are we all talking about?’ She kissed her boyfriend #Ben on his head as the group fell into a joking and laughing way of talking again. The debate started on what was and wasn’t needed in a film to count it as a Christmas movie.

I sat up in my chair watching them all, fully aware that #Mike’s arm was resting on the back of my chair even after I’d tried to move it away. I knew I needed to talk with him. Explain that I hadn’t changed my mind about seeing anyone. Dating really wasn’t something I could ever see myself doing again. But for now, I just needed to make sure that I didn’t blur the lines or give him any mixed messages.

#BellaSwan #AUWorld #Twlight #TwilightRP #TwiRP #Stories #Solos

[kristylovesvikings]

Ivar Imagine #14 “You’re the only one I trust to do this.”

Ragnar had just finished his speech when you looked to where Ivar sat with his brothers and mother as they waited for the feast to be passed plate by plate royal family first. You hated this time of year. It was the time when raids would be announced. Meaning people would go away and some would be gone forever and some would come back different. None of the Ragnarsson boys were going on a raid this year all deciding they would build homes and marry a fitting bride and as to not be rushed to start a family. Being 18 winters old Ivar was 19 all you and he talked about was family. Who he had to be. Who you had to be. Who he wanted to be. Who you wanted to be. It was tiring to say the least. You didn’t hate this time of year because of the raids you hated this time of year because your mother and father lost their heads. You father worked harder on the farm making sure all suitors would see ‘how much it flourished.’ And yes that was a direct quote. Your mother fitted you for dress after dress saving all her money the whole year just to start buying the best fabric and the fanciest jewels to drown you in. You loved them dearly but you hated how much they tried to make you something you weren’t. Being an only child you had to help with the farm. Your father grew wheat, corn, planted a lot of apple trees and grew plenty of other foods. Your mother had her own garden she tended to full of herbs the healers used to heal the fighters with. You cooked, washed up, did laundry, kept up with cleaning the hut, and fed the animals your family owned.

The light from the fire made Ivar look like he was glowing. Looking him up and down you couldn’t help but admire him both mind and his body. Noticing you looking at him Ivar and you locked eyes. Seeing him lean over to Ubbe and whisper something you blushed not knowing what he said to make his brothers eyes snap to you. Getting up from the table you gathered your dress at your thigh making an excuse to your mother about feeling warm and ill you slipped from the table. Secretly thanking whoever decided to pass ale hours before the first bit of food when she did not protest. Deciding to go home and have a bath you felt as though you had eyes on you as you walked through the doors.

Ivar could not leave just after you especially after he made a comment to Ubbe about how he wanted you and how he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself the more you looked at him in that calculating way as the fire danced on your skin. He hovered for a moment before he felt like he would die if he did not leave now and no one ever said Ivar Ragnarsson was not dramatic. Ubbe smirked at his brother as Ivar slid from his seat as he followed out the doors you had left moments before. He crawled through the abandoned streets of Kattegat until he got to your farm on the edge of town. Ivar pushed open the front door already turning down the hall to your room before he even thought about calling out to you. He had been to your home plenty of times something neither of your families knew about seeing as each time was always in the dead of night making sure to be very quiet and Ivar leaving before your father got up in the morning. A candle light glow came from inside your bedroom as he moved to open the door to where you would be. Ivar started speaking as he entered through your bedroom door however you had not known he was there as he made his presence known you shielded your body from him thinking of the thin nightgown you were wearing.

“IVAR!!!” you shrieked. Chuckling he couldn’t help but look you up and down. A year ago he started to see how beautiful you had grown. Now he thought about every time. Every time he crawled into your bed he was careful not to touch you. Every night when he would settle into his own bed covered in his furs he would think about your warm body next to him as you spoke about things only lovers spoke of. Every time he would grip his furs as he rut into them when he thought about your body. Every time he could not look you in the eye the next morning after what he had done the night before while he ate breakfast watching the slaves change his furs for the thousandth day in a row. Ivar had gotten lost in thought so you started to wave your hand in front of his face you spoke again “Ivar! I asked what you were doing here. People will notice if not all of the sons of Ragnar are feasting. The feast is in the great hall feet from your room. I know you know that we were just there. What if your mother starts looking for you? What will she say to her prince son hiding from the earls daughters in a farm house with the farmer’s daughter?”

“I know woman! I know where I sleep y/n and never mind my mother right now. I had to see why you were leaving. You walk so fast I could not will my worthless legs to run fast enough.” It was what Ivar did with you. He made jokes he would bury an ax in anyone else for making. Smirking he continued “Was it too much to look at me the way you were looking at me? Oh my dear sweet y/n. You were looking at me not Ubbe weren’t you?” It was teasing but you could see the insecurity hidden in his eyes but you were caught. He had seen.

“I wasn’t looking at you in any way. How many times do I have to tell you I am not yours? Don’t call me sweet either. Also I was not looking at Ubbe like that. I would never like Ubbe.” You started with a lie. Well two lies really. You were Ivars. You would always be his but he didn’t need to know that.

“Hush sweet. You are mine and you know it. You are mine until you marry and then you will still be mine. And you admit you were looking.” You felt your face flush. If Ivar saw he did not comment as he pulled himself on your bed. Ivar loved staking his claim to you. He used to get so angry when boys would talk to you. On those days he would crawl into your bed and wrap his long strong arms around your waist and ask you where those boys were now. He would make you repeat him when he said not with you. Thinking about how possessive he was with you made you smirk. You weren’t his wife. You weren’t his girl. You were a girl he needed that was all. You started taking your hair down from how your mother had pinned it. Ivar was here and now you couldn’t bathe but you could wash your face at least. Starting a pot on the fire in the corner of the room you fretted over the water not wanting for it to get too warm.

The room fell silent as you went from watching the pot of water to watching Ivar. He settled into your bed like it was his own. He looked at home and it made tears spring to your eyes. One day he would have another. One day he would have something real. Something to cherish and he wouldn’t need you. You could feel the tears start to fall. Standing quickly you grabbed the pot from above the fire. “OW!”

Ivar snapped up from where he was resting dropping to the floor he crawled as fast as he could to you. “What!? Did you get hurt? Did you burn yourself? Let me help. Your mother helps the healers she must have something here!” Ivar was panicking something you could see from miles if you wanted to. Ivar was holding your hand as he tried to look for something to help. Looking at how he held you had you crying more. “Shhhhh. Its ok y/n. It’s a burn. People get burns. They heal. I will help. Don’t cry my sweet.” Kissing your wrist he placed your hand in cold water. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. “I’m not crying because im hurt Ivar. Im crying because I will never have you.”

Ivar sat clearly confused “You have me y/n. You will always have me.” He reached to wipe your tears from your cheeks.

“Then have me Ivar. Take me. Truly fully make me yours. No more sneaking into my bed at night. No more avoiding me in the day. No more mornings where you can’t even look me in the eye its unbearable Ivar.” You took a pause as you looked to your hand seeing the red that bloomed you hoped Ivar was right and that your mother had something here. Taking a breath you spoke again “And if you can’t do that then don’t come here anymore.”

Ivar sat looking in your eyes. It seemed like he was making a decision and it angered you. For you loving Ivar was no decision. It wasn’t by choice. Sometimes you think not even the gods made this choice. “Fine sweet girl. Tomorrow I will speak to my mother and father. I will tell them I wish to marry you. Then I will speak to your father and mother and tell them the same. I will get a ring made. I will take you into the woods or on to the beach and I will make you feel like the only one for me. I will ask your hand. Are these the things you wish of me? Add to the list if they are not.”

Gripping Ivar face you kissed him. “Ivar I have one thing to add for tonight.” He waited for you to continue. “Take me to bed.”

He sucked in a breath. “y/n.”

“Please Ivar.”

“y/n I may not be what you want. You had ale. You might change your mind. It makes me blind with rage but what if you want to marry another? What if you do not want a cripple? Then I will have taken your innocence.”

You thought he wanted you. No you didn’t think you knew so you said something you knew would get him riled up. “You’re the only one I trust to do this.” Ivar was big on trust. He worked hard to trust you and for you to trust him. He gripped your hips pulling them to his lap he started to kiss your neck. “y/n will you marry me?”

“Yes Ivar I will marry you. But you have to ask tomorrow after we eat dinner and the sun filters through the trees in the woods.”

#ivar imagine #ivar imagines #ivar ragnarsson #ivar ragnarsson imagine #ivar the boneless

[daisydoctor13]

This is the sound of my soul (Berena fic)

Rating: General audiences

St. Cuthbert’s School for Boys & St. Winifred’s School for Girls Class of 1983 invites you to prom night. Friday 15th July 6:30pm. Black Tie, Formal Dinner and DJ.

“You’ve got to go Serena you’re the head girl. What head girl doesn’t go to the prom? It’s right up your street: music, dancing, smuggling alcohol in and having your wicked way with half the boys at St Cuthbert’s.”

Serena pouted at Bernie, who was lounging on her bed idly flicking through her chemistry textbook, not trying to study at all, and distracting Serena in the process. Not that Bernie needed to study, she had the infuriating ability to cram the day before an exam and come out with incredible grades, when Serena had slogged all year round. If they weren’t best friends, they’d be at each other’s throats most of the time.

They were, to begin with. Bernie’s surliness and reluctance to make friends when she started at St Winifred’s, which she regarded as punishment by her parents who wanted her to act like a ‘proper lady’, meant she pushed everyone away. That was an insult to Serena, who made it her duty to befriend every new girl, and took it personally when Bernie rejected her advances. They both competed for top in the class, Bernie regarding Serena as a swot, teacher’s pet, and Serena hating Bernie’s effortless academic ability. And sporting prowess, and musical talents (although Bernie later admitted that she absolutely hated the violin, and was only good because her parents forced her to practice at home).

 “Ha, smuggling alcohol in? I think that’s your area of expertise, anyway, if the head girl has to go, surely Hockey and Lacrosse captain needs to be there as well? Especially the one that has dragged St Winifred’s to the top of the league from pretty much the bottom?”

Bernie’s smile dropped from her face. Prom was not her idea of fun, and she had been planning on avoiding it. She didn’t feel any particular nostalgia or link to this school, the only true friend she had was Serena and she didn’t want to be hanging around her all night, when Serena was the life and soul of the party.

 It was Bernie who reached out to Serena. During their O level year, Serena’s father fell ill and she was worried about him. Being so far away meant she only knew what her mother told her. Which wasn’t much, because Adrienne wanted her to focus on her exams rather than fret. The lack of information only made her fret more, and her grades slipped in a few tests.

When the result of one biology assessment was released, Bernie quickly glanced up at Serena across the room, she was quite far down the list. Serena couldn’t bear the thought of Bernie aloof and gloating and swept out of the room. If she’d looked properly she’d have only seen concern in those hazel eyes. Bernie followed her, found her in the toilets splashing water against her face and doing her best not to cry. But instead of being patronising or smug, Bernie simply patted Serena’s shoulder and said “I’ve got whiskey in my dorm, if you want?”

That evening they clambered onto the roof from Bernie’s room, passing the bottle of whiskey between them. A large tartan blanket behind a turret made Serena think Bernie probably spent a lot of time up there. She draped the blanket over the two of them and sat as close to Serena as possible without actually touching. Bernie didn’t pushed her to talk, but gazed out over the school grounds.

Serena didn’t know what it was about Bernie, but she found herself telling this girl, to whom she’d barely spoken two words, everything. Her father’s illness, her mother’s high expectations, how despite her apparent popularity in school, she didn’t feel like she had anyone that she could trust, who understood her and knew the real her. She portrayed the person she thought the other girls would like, and sometimes she felt like a fraud. Bernie listened, nodded but never interrupted, letting her get it all out, awkwardly patting her knee and offering a tissue when she cried.

After that, they became closer. Their trips to the roof were more frequent although Serena brought coffee or chocolate rather than alcohol, not wanting to drink in the run up to exams. Bernie opened up, about her strict parents, their disapproval of her tomboy looks and desire to join the army when she became a doctor. Her father didn’t think the army was a place for ladies, wasn’t even particularly keen on women being doctors. The rest of the girls in their year were puzzled by the developing friendship between two rivals. They were still fiercely competitive, every assignment and test they battled to get top spot, but there was no animosity between them anymore.  

 “Why don’t you want to go, Serena?”

At this Serena sighed and shut her book, knowing she wouldn’t be getting much more done. Why didn’t she want to go? Bernie was right, it was her idea of a great night. But when Bernie had said she wasn’t going, she had gone off the idea. Celebrating their last year at school, the rite of passage into adulthood wouldn’t be the same if her best friend wasn’t there.

But how could she say that to Bernie? It sounded needy, and she knew Bernie was reluctant to go. She couldn’t force her, because if Serena said that, Bernie would of course agree to go, even though they both knew she wouldn’t enjoy it.

“I don’t know Bernie, I guess it’s just difficult to think about enjoying myself when we’ve got exams coming up.” Bernie pursed her lips, she didn’t believe her but was willing to let it drop.

“In that case, you’ve got to go. You’ll need it after all the hard work you’re putting in.” She picked the textbook back up and Serena hoped that would be the last she heard of it.

*

It wasn’t, although it wasn’t specifically Bernie that brought it up. The weekly post hand out during Saturday breakfast caused a bit of a stir. They couldn’t quite see what was going on, but a lot of the girls were squealing and giggling in delight. It soon became apparent as a large cream envelope, heavy paper and dark blue ink, dropped in front of Bernie’s plate. This was the biggest shock of all. She never got post, once a term she received a brief note from her parents, short and factual, telling her family news and what she would be doing over the holidays.

It was immediately obvious this wasn’t from her parents. The hand writing on the envelope was large, clumsy and the ink had been smudged a little. The main giveaway was the rose taped across the corner, causing Bernie to gape at the letter.

“This can’t be mine!” She exclaimed, as girls crowded behind her, eager to see what the letter contained.

Serena quirked an amused eyebrow at her friend. “Do you know any other Berenice Wolfes?”

Bernie looked up at her from the letter, hands trembling. Who could have sent this to her, was it a joke, a dare? She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, feeling claustrophobic with the crush of bodies peering over her shoulder.

Serena stood, pulling her up and leading her out of the hall, away from embarrassment. Bernie hated being the centre of attention. She wanted a reputation based on her academics or accomplishments and did not want to be subject to gossip or humiliation. Serena knew this and made a loud excuse of needing to finish an essay.

They went straight up to the roof, although they were in final year now and had the privilege of their own rooms, it was still a place that they both liked to share, no chance of any disturbance. Serena leant against the wall as Bernie slumped down and ripped open the envelope. Inside was a short note that Bernie read, her furrowed brow soon disappearing up into her fringe as her expression turned incredulous.

“It’s an invite!” She exclaimed, waving it at Serena. “To go to prom with Marcus, of all people!” Serena caught the paper and skimmed through the note. It seemed genuine, no hint that it could be a hoax, his mates egging him on.

Bernie,

You have been a good friend to me for the past year and helped me enormously with the rugby team, when you had no obligation to. I admire you and although I have never had the courage to tell you, I think you are wonderful. Would you do me the honour of accompanying me to the prom?

Yours,

Marcus

She glanced up at Bernie who was pacing across the short space furiously. “Why would he ask me? Like this, so publicly? Who does he think he is? We’re friends, when have I ever given him reason to think I might be interested in him like that?”

She stopped and stared at Serena, hoping she could answer these questions, tell her how to let him down, say anything. She was just as clueless, unfortunately. “I’ve got to tell him no, and he’s got a typical fragile male ego. He won’t like it.”

Serena bit her lip and sighed. She could see Bernie was furious. Sending a letter to her, knowing she’d get it in front of her peers. Marcus should have known Bernie wouldn’t have liked it, although he clearly couldn’t read Bernie well anyway, if he thought she would go to prom with him.

 “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Marcus recently,” Serena smirked at her, after she had come back from a long training session, followed by a coffee with the rugby captain at St Cuthbert’s, their brother school. Bernie frowned in confusion.

“We were planning the charity match, and I was helping him with some management tactics. His vice-captain is causing trouble, saying he’d be a better captain. Honestly, I thought girls were meant to be the bitchy ones.”

Serena quirked an eyebrow and chuckled at her. The realisation of what Serena had been implying dawned on her. “Oh, right, no I’m, uh, not really interested. In him.”

She nodded in understanding, Bernie had never shown an interest in the boys at the other school, her parents would say she was there to learn, she merely stated she was perfectly content as she was.

“Does he know that, Bernie?”

She hadn’t thought about that before. It hadn’t occurred to her that Marcus, well, any boy would be interested in her like that. Partly because she wasn’t a typically attractive girl - untameable hair and gangly limbs - and she couldn’t imagine anyone looking at her when her best friend was Serena McKinnie. Radiant, confident, flirty. Everything an eighteen-year-old boy could want, and more.

“You know half our year would kill to go out for coffee with him. Captain of the rugby team, total hunk. Some girls can be so shallow.”

Bernie chuckled at this, knowing Serena could be just as bad. “Hmmm, I guess,” she agreed. Yes, Marcus Dunn was physically fit, broad shoulders, strong arms. She should find him attractive, but she didn’t. “Not really my type.”

Something flashed in Serena’s eyes - acknowledgment, understanding, but she didn’t anything, was about to move on to a new topic of conversation. The words tumbled from Bernie’s lip, she couldn’t keep it from Serena any longer. If she spoke slowly the words would dry up, she couldn’t be sure how Serena would react. It was too late now.

“Not my type, at all, be-because I like, um, girls. Yeah, I’m- I mean- I’m gay, Serena. I don’t want to keep it from you. You’re my best friend, and I can’t bear you not knowing. Is- is that okay?”

Serena’s face softened but Bernie glanced down, not wanting to meet her eyes, not knowing what she expected to see there.

“Of course, it’s okay, Bernie. I’ve been waiting for you to tell me. I didn’t want to push you into saying anything, but I’m glad you found the courage.”

“I wasn’t sure how you’d react. You’re the first person I’ve- hang on, what do you mean you’ve been waiting for me to say it?”

Serena playfully bumped her with her shoulder, trying to ease her friend’s awkwardness, show her rather than tell her that it didn’t matter, nothing to worry about.

“I’ve noticed little things, here and there. Don’t worry it’s not obvious, not to people that don’t really know you. But don’t try and tell me again that your stumbling pronunciation in French O Level was because you were rubbish at languages. You could do it perfectly in group work, but as soon as Miss Jessop asked you a question you could barely speak English, let alone another language.”

Bernie flushed at this, it was true she had a crush on the lovely French teacher, but she was a little worried that other people had noticed.

 “How do I tell him no, Serena? I can’t tell him the truth, I don’t trust him enough not to tell everyone,” she trailed off. Since coming out to Serena, she had felt more at peace. They didn’t talk about it a lot, the walls of the boarding school had ears and very few people were accepting of homosexuality. She was happy that her best friend knew, and still accepted her. That was enough.

“He’s a nice guy I’m sure he can take the rejection. If you just say you weren’t planning on going anyway, he’ll understand. Anyway, he won’t be without alternatives.”

*

Marcus caught up with Bernie after training the next weekend.

“Hey, Bern, fancy a coffee?” He threw his arm around her shoulders in a friendly manner but she flinched away from the touch.

“Waterhouse still giving you trouble?” she asked, thinking he was wanting to talk tactics and ways to manage his unruly Vice-captain.

A brief look of confusion flashed across his face.

“What? Oh, no, I mean would you like to go for coffee together. You know. Talk about, uh, stuff.”

“Oh, right, sorry, I’ve got to write up a chemistry practical. Was there something in particular you wanted to talk about?”

“Well, you never got back to me, about prom?” He looked at her hopefully. She blanched, she had put it to the back of her mind, hoping he would forget.

“I wasn’t sure how to. Um, thank you for asking, and what you said was lovely,” she paused, working out the best way to say no without damaging their friendship. “I’m glad we’re friends, you’re great but I don’t really want to go with you. I mean, you’re a mate and it wouldn’t feel right.”

She was about to apologise, but his face had coloured.

“Why not? You’ve been so nice to me, we’ve spent so much time together. I assumed you liked me, Bern.”

She stared at him, her mouth open, astounded.

“We’re friends Marcus, we had to plan the match together, you needed some help. I enjoy chatting with you about sports and everything else. I’m sorry if you’ve got the wrong idea, I didn’t mean for that at all.”

“So, you don’t want to be anything more than friends?”

She shook her head, mumbling her apologies. His expression turned sour.

“You know, I could have my pick of the girls in your year, they practically throw themselves at me.”

“Well you should take one of them to prom then,” she wasn’t in the mood for this. She could tell he was about to use some bullshit ‘I’m not like other guys’ line and she wasn’t sure she could restrain herself from lashing out. She had a notoriously short temper, only beaten by Serena’s.

“I don’t want to Bernie, I want to take you. The lads think I’m mad, they don’t get you. They think you’re cold and surly, but I know you’re not.”

It wasn’t word for word, but the sentiment was still there. The ‘lads’ wouldn’t want to date Bernie, she should feel honoured that Marcus was asking.

“If you’re trying to compliment me, you’re doing it in a very backhanded way. Telling me no one else would want to take me to prom is not flattery. I’m sorry, Marcus, but I’m not interested.”

"Fine, your loss. You're right though, you'll go to prom on your own. I'm sure Serena McKinnie will find someone, and you'll be sat on the edge, watching everyone else have fun. In fact, I might ask her myself."

She laughed, Serena wouldn't accept an invitation from Marcus, she spent a lot of time calling him a pompous twat. It was true though, Serena had been approached by a few people although she had politely declined all of them.

The problem was, he was right. Bernie wouldn’t have anyone to socialise with other than Serena. It’s mainly why she didn’t want to go, because she didn’t want to spoil Serena’s fun. She would spend the night with Bernie because she felt she had a duty to her friend, when she should be enjoying herself.

*

“He should be so lucky!”

Bernie smirked, as she had expected, Serena did not seem enthusiastic at the news that Marcus would be asking her.

“He is such a twat, Bernie, I never knew why you were friends with him. This just proves it, he has a typically fragile male ego. Oh, I hope he does ask me, just so I can see the look on his face.”

Serena was furious, marching up and down her room, wearing a path into the carpet.

“Trying to claim that no one would take you to prom? It’s ridiculous. You know what, let’s show him. We’ll go together!”

Serena looked at Bernie with the anger and passion burning in her eyes. Bernie was floored. She’d made it clear to Serena that she didn’t want to go. Serena had grudgingly accepted that she had to, as head girl, but Bernie had put her foot down.

Now, though, there was a sparkle in Serena’s eye. She was appealing to Bernie’s vengeful side; the one Serena knew would be itching to get back at Marcus. It was true, she was angry with him for assuming and being spiteful.

She felt the breath catch in her throat. What would other people think? What would she wear? But Serena was already talking, barely registering Bernie’s panic. Once she got hold of an idea there was no stopping her.

“If you don’t go, he’ll think he’s right. But this will be a middle finger up to him, he’ll see we don’t need boys to have a good time. You especially.” She winked and Bernie found herself chuckling.

She pretended to ponder it for a moment, but she knew she would agree. Serena could always bring people round to her point of view, and Bernie found it difficult to refuse her. She nodded and Serena grinned, immediately grabbing her diary.

“Great, we’ll go shopping one weekend. When are your next matches?”

*

“The quicker you come out and show me, the quicker we can go back.” Serena crossed her arms and sighed impatiently. Bernie had given her a limit – she would try on three dresses and that was it.

“I’m not coming out,” Bernie called back, earning a dry chuckle from Serena.

“Bit late for that.”

“Ha, I’m serious Serena, the shoulders on this dress should be on an American football kit, not a prom dress.” She poked her head round the curtain and slowly revealed the dress. Serena could see what she meant. The dress was a lovely colour, deep purple, ruched satin but the shoulders were overexaggerated and her slender arms looked quite ridiculous poking out the bottom. She shook her head and Bernie disappeared back.

She waited for a few minutes, Bernie opening the curtain with a dramatic flourish and a frown on her face.

“No,” she said, crossing her arms. It was full length, with a lot of ruffles and a large skirt, stiff fabric layers poking out at various angles. “This last one had better be good.”

She returned without allowing Serena time to comment. She was sure the last one would be perfect, she’d only picked out the other two to show Bernie bad options, so she would like the third one. Also, seeing Bernie in ridiculous dresses was rather entertaining.

The curtain opened once more and Serena gasped. A no fuss, royal blue off the shoulder dress with a v neck that highlighted her collarbones. It had an asymmetrical hemline which ended at her knees at the front, slightly longer at the back. It showed a black lining, the colours contrasting perfectly.

“It’s perfect, Bernie, you’re going to make Marcus so jealous,” Bernie gave her a shy smile, she did like the dress although she wouldn’t admit it to Serena because she would be unbearably smug.

“Right, shall we find one for you then?” She asked as she appeared looking rather more comfortable in her casual clothes.

Serena patted her arm and grinned. “Don’t worry I’m not going to put you through that, Mum is sending me something she’s made.”

Bernie sighed with relief that the shopping was over and she wouldn’t have to sit around in the musty fitting room. They stopped in town for lunch, Serena seemed in her own world, usually she would talk incessantly, but she was quiet, staring at her plate.

“You okay?” Bernie questioned. “I thought you’d be more excited about me buying a dress, for the first time in…well, ever.”

She smiled, but it never reached her eyes.

“I’m just thinking…”

“Always dangerous,” she smirked, then reached over the table and placed her hands over Serena’s, stopping her from wringing them. “What’s wrong?”

“I feel like the term is going so quickly. Soon it’ll be summer, and then we’ll be going to university. What if I can’t do it? I don’t know what to do if I can’t do medicine. And you’ll be so far away.”

She could feel the fear and anxiety coming from Serena in waves. Despite her confident front that she showed to others, Bernie knew Serena was a worrier, always feeling like she wasn’t good enough. No amount of good grades or praise from teachers helped her to be truly confident in her abilities. She only hoped that medical school would show Serena how brilliant she truly was.

“I know it’s going quickly, but we’ve got a really long summer, we don’t start until the end of September. And frankly I’ll be glad when these blasted exams are over. You will be amazing, Serena, and hypothetically in some weird parallel universe where you aren’t good at medicine you can come and live with me and keep my room clean and make sure I eat properly.”

She grinned at Serena, who let out a low chuckle. She didn’t want to think about the last part, because she knew that being away from Serena was going to be hard. They spent most of their time together, teachers would be shocked if they saw one in the corridor without the other. She was the only thing about St. Winifred’s that Bernie would miss.

“And we can still write, and see each other in the holidays. I’ll want to get away from my parents anyway. It’ll be different, but you won’t want me cramping your style when you’re making friends.”

This earnt her a smile, and she relaxed a little. She hated seeing Serena so worked up and hoped she had done enough to reassure her. They spent the rest of their lunch gossiping about the girls in their year, who was cheating on who, the fact that Sian was still taking antibiotics for the rather nasty infected nose piercing, and generally chatting. This ease between them they would both miss, knowing it would change at university but not wanting to acknowledge it.

*

“I feel sick,” Serena was shuffling her notes, constantly checking they were in order. Bernie stilled her, putting her hands on Serena’s arms and looking her in the eye.

“You’ve got this Serena, ignore the rest of the school and the parents. Imagine you are practising to me, like last night. I’ll be in the seats, just look at me.”

It was the last day of term and the formal service and prize giving for the Upper Sixth was all that stood between them and freedom. The only problem was that, as head girl, Serena had to make a speech in front of the entire school and the parents of all the girls in their year. Her own mother would be there, and this made Serena even more nervous. She’d made speeches before, and deep down she knew when she got up there she would be able to speak confidently, but her anxiety wouldn’t let her think that.

She had practically memorised the speech, but still had notes just in case, and had practised to Bernie and in front of a mirror so many times she was bored of hearing it. They were stood outside the Great Hall, waiting to process in after everyone else was settled into their seats.

Serena simply nodded at Bernie, hoping her voice would come back when she was stood at the podium. The doors open and the organ started playing the processional hymn, the girls following the head teacher in, shuffling and mumbling the words as they tried not to trip over each other.

The service passed by Serena in a daze, Bernie had to prompt her to get up ready to collect her academic achievement award. She smiled and shook hands with the Head and sat back down, tapping her foot impatiently as she clapped for what felt like an hour. She applauded a little more vigorously when Bernie collected her sports trophies, although this was drowned out by the hockey team cheering their captain, much to the disapproval of a lot of the parents. Bernie blushed at the recognition, she didn’t think she was particularly popular but Serena knew a lot of the girls idolised her.

Eventually she heard her name, the applause from behind her and the soft ‘you’ll be amazing’ in her ear. She stood, smoothing her skirt and walking up the steps, gripping onto her notes. She gulped slightly as she saw the amount of people she was stood in front of, but immediately her eyes flicked down and found Bernie, smiling up at her with her typically messy light brown hair and untucked shirt.

She kept her eyes focused on her as she began, thanking the head and other staff and commencing her speech. Although she had written it herself, it had been thoroughly vetted by the head teacher, and she felt there was very little personality in it. Every head girl had pretty much the same speech, it was a formality that had to be done. But the last paragraph she had been allowed to talk about her own experience and what the school meant to her.

“St Winifred’s has been more than a school to me. It’s been my home, my family, for so many years. I have valued my time here and it has prepared me for the future, more than I could possibly have hoped. I have formed wonderful friendships, had enormous fun and learnt so much along the way. St Winifred’s has helped me, helped us all, to discover things about ourselves, talents and dreams that we will make a reality. I would like to thank you all for making my time here, and my year as Head Girl, so fantastic. I will miss this school and everyone in it, but I know without a doubt I will leave here with St Winifred’s occupying a space in my heart.”

She met Bernie’s eyes at this point, saw her friend closer to tears than she had ever been before, and her own eyes stung. It was true she would miss school, but the part of St Winifred’s that would be closest to her would be Bernie. The times they had spent on the roof, the scrapes they’d got into in chemistry, cheering her on from the side lines in hockey matches. Those were the moments she would cherish.

She had paused for longer than she had realised, but it didn’t matter because she had finished, and Bernie knew this so led the applause. She looked out to see the entire school getting to their feet, in appreciation for the Head Girl they respected so much. Bernie was stood, with a smug ‘I told you so’ face on, no doubt because she had reassured Serena so many times that her speech would be a success and everyone loved her.

She dipped her head in acknowledgment and headed back to her seat where Bernie punched her arm playfully and grinned. The elation bubbled up in her chest, only a few more minutes then they’d be leaving.

*

“I never thought I’d be saying this but hurry up, Serena, we’re going to be late!” It wasn’t like Serena to be so last minute, but her hair had been a nightmare, not quite sitting right. After about two cans of hairspray (and a few burns from the curling tongs), she was happy.

Bernie was stood outside her door. She felt rather foolish in her dress, and had not attempted anything with her hair other than brush it out. She wished she was more talented at hair styling, but tight pins and elegant up dos weren’t really her style.

“I’m ready, one second!” was the harried reply, she obviously didn’t need the reminder that she was late.

The door flew open and Bernie stood there, open mouthed. She looked beautiful. The thought struck Bernie to the core. She’d always known Serena was attractive, especially to the boys, but she had never quite appreciated just how beautiful she was. She had envied Serena, mature and confident in her looks, and now Bernie knew that she looked completely inadequate next to her best friend.

She was wearing a strapless, sweetheart full-length dress. Perfectly fitted with a mermaid skirt, in a rich burgundy with stitching detail around the hem. Her hair was swept up onto the top of her head, accentuating her collarbones and neck. Her eyes sparkled and Bernie swallowed. She could feel a blush creeping up her cheeks, and a shiver ran down her spine.

“Bernie? Are you alright?” Serena questioned, concerned that she hadn’t actually spoken, or moved, since seeing Serena.

“Yes…yes, I’m fine,” she stammered. “You…you look, nice, no I mean, lovely. That colour really suits you.”

Serena frowned at her, Bernie was acting rather oddly, and was now fishing around in her dress, rather uncomfortably.

“Thank you, Bernie, so do you. Can I ask what on earth are you doing?”

Bernie soon returned to her usually mischievous grin as she pulled out a hip flask. “Here you go, McKinnie, you said smuggling in the alcohol was my job. And if I’m going to be suffering through this evening of socialising and dancing, I’m making sure the fruit punch has a bigger hit.”

She hid the flask back in her bra, she’d only got it out so she could look down and hide her face, which had coloured deeply after her stuttering compliment to Serena. She offered her arm to Serena, who grasped it tightly. She was rather unsteady on her heels, but looked down at Bernie with a smug expression.

"Finally I'm taller than you!"

Bernie chuckled, she herself was wearing low kitten heels because she did not want to add falling over to the list of things that could go wrong tonight. She would be busy enough worrying about Marcus and looking ridiculous on the dance floor.

She took a moment to really look at Serena, her eyes bright with excitement for the night ahead. Her dark hair was soft, the curls shining as the light caught them, her pale skin accented by a slight blush swept over her cheekbones. Bernie couldn't believe she had never noticed it before but her pulse quickened slightly.

She felt Serena squeeze her arm and blushed again, having been caught staring. Perhaps it was for the best that they were going to different universities , having a crush on your very straight friend could never end well.

She walked down the stairs in a daze. Did she have a crush on Serena? Surely, she was just appreciating how wonderful she looked. That's what friends do, right? Did she have bigger feelings for Serena? It wasn't a crush, not really. She'd had a crush, many in fact. They were all women completely unattainable, Mrs Jessop, the actress in Sophie’s Choice, she couldn’t remember the name. How did she feel about Serena?

She wasn't sure. She enjoyed spending time with her, felt a pull towards her from the moment they had sat out on the roof, perhaps even before then. She didn’t know what had made her reach out to her in the first place. She made her laugh, she would do anything for her. She had never had such close friendships in the past.

That must be it, she decided. I'm just confusing a very close friendship, not used to it. Even if it is something else, she definitely doesn't feel the same way back. And now is not the time to be having thoughts like this, Wolfe. Pull yourself together.

She was lost in thought and missed the last step, almost pulling Serena down with her. They managed to stay upright and Serena raised an eyebrow at her.

"I hope you've not started drinking already Wolfe." She laughed as she tucked a strand of Bernie’s hair back behind her ear. The touch left Bernie s skin burning and she gasped softly, covering it up with a chuckle.

"Of course not, you know me and heels never get on. Shall we?" She indicated towards where the girls were all gathered, getting ready for a photograph. They were ushered towards the front of the group and plastered on wide smiles as their head of year got the camera ready.

After that they all met the boys at the main entrance, and piled onto the bus that would be taking them into the venue.

Bernie could see Marcus, forcing a smile at Julie Granger who had obviously been his next choice. She ducked her head so he wouldn't see her and slipped in to the seat next to Serena.

*

The prom committee had done a great job, and there was a red carpet into the entrance. They were encouraged to enter in couples or small groups of friends and have an official photograph taken. Serena beamed at Bernie as they walked up the carpet and leaned in to her for the photo. Once inside they went straight to the tables for the meal. They chatted as a group, reminiscing about their time at school and excitedly speculating about what the future might hold for them.

Serena could tell Bernie had something on her mind and was doing her best to hide it; forcing smiles and laughing in the right places. She didn’t know whether it was her discomfort with the social situation, or something more. She had caught her staring a few times, but she quickly ducked her head and feigned interest in her food.

She tried to focus on the conversation, rather than worrying about Bernie.

“I mean, most women have a thing for men in uniform, isn’t that right Serena? And just think of all the nurses!” Serena bit her lip, Edward Campbell was loud mouthed and obnoxious, he thought he was God’s gift. She didn’t know him well, but he was also going to be studying medicine. The ‘work hard play harder’ reputation of medical students seemed to be the main reason he had applied. She was glad they’d almost finished dessert, so she could escape.

As the staff cleared the plates she caught Bernie’s eye, who looked pointedly at her glass. She nodded, it was impressive how Bernie seemed to read her mind. Bernie made a beeline for the drinks table and Serena was about to follow, when Edward cut her off.

“You know, it’s a shame. A beautiful girl like you not having a man on their arm, Serena,” he grinned and she could smell the alcohol on his breath as he leaned in closer, one hand slipping on to her waist. “Shall we dance?”

She leaned away from him and smiled. He had obviously had a few drinks before arriving, and she didn’t want to upset him. “No, thank you Edward. It was very nice of you to ask, though.”

*

Bernie watched the scene from across the room. Her stomach felt like it had coiled tightly, seeing Edward with his hands on Serena, she had a coquettish grin, tilting her head playfully. She had no right to feel like that, although she did wonder at Serena’s taste. Her blood had been boiling at some of the sexist, arrogant things he had said during the meal.

“Jealous?”

Marcus’ voice in her ear made her jump, she almost dropped the glass that was in her hand. The heat flared in her cheeks, how could he tell? If Marcus had worked it out so quickly, she was doomed. He would gossip and it would get round to Serena. She could imagine the whispers now. How pathetic, Bernie Wolfe, in love with her best friend, pining after her like a puppy.

Love? Is that what it is? Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, she thought to herself, the bile rising in her throat.

“Wha-, no, why would I be jealous?” she stammered, trying to keep cool. She gulped down her drink, knowing she’d already added a little something extra and wanting to take her mind off the nerves.

“She’s getting all the attention, every guy in our year fancies her. It must be hard, to live in her shadow.”

Bernie breathed a sigh of relief: he hadn’t noticed that Bernie had been jealous for a rather different reason. She shook her head.

“I don’t want the attention, I just don’t like the look of Edward.”

“Well, Serena certainly doesn’t seem to mind the attention.” He smirked before being pulled onto the dance floor by Julie, who did not seem impressed that he was talking to Bernie.

She sighed and made her way across to Serena with the drinks. As she got closer she saw that Serena’s expression was rather more strained than she had thought and she seemed relieved to see Bernie.

“Hey there Bernie, I was just telling Serena just how beautiful she looked, and that it would be such a waste for her to have got all dressed up and not have a man to dance with. Don’t you agree?”

Bernie stammered, not quite sure what to say, but Serena cut in. “And I was telling Edward that a woman doesn’t need a man, isn’t that right?”

She took the glass and smirked at Bernie who nodded, but before she had a chance to say anything Serena squealed.

“Oooooh I love this song, come on Bernie!” and she found herself being marched into the centre of the room, Serena throwing all kinds of shapes, just like the film. Bernie stood awkwardly, not quite sure what to do with herself. She shuffled from one foot to the other, vaguely in time to the music, and downed her second drink. Dutch courage.

She relaxed into the next song, reminded of a warm summer afternoon they’d spent in the park, tipsy and listening to Serena’s brand new radio.

 “I think brown eyes are so much nicer than blue, don’t you?” Serena mused, taking a drag from the cigarette before passing it to Bernie.

“I’ve never really thought about it,” she admitted, glancing at Serena. “I guess they’re warm.”

“What’s your ideal girl like?”

“Hmm? I don’t know. I guess I’d be too scared to do anything about it if I met them.”

“Oh, come on, Bernie, you must have imagined it. Someone to settle down with, no?”

“I couldn’t, Serena. My parents would flip if they found out. And it’s definitely not allowed in the army.”

“What so you’re going to spend the rest of your life alone? I can’t imagine you just sleeping around, going from one girl to the next, leaving them broken hearted.”

Bernie sighed, it was something that ate her up inside, she didn’t know what was worse: the shame she felt because of who she was, or the twisting in her stomach every time she considered not being her true self. The guilt was ingrained into her by her parents saying people affected by AIDS deserved to die, sneering at anyone who seemed like a ‘queer’. But could she really deny herself happiness? She didn’t know.

“I guess I’d be fine, you know, settling with a guy. It wouldn’t be awful. If I was friends with them, I could learn to love them.”

Serena had looked at her in horror. “Bernie, you can’t do that! You’d be living a lie, I know it would be hard but times will change you know. People like your parents will become outdated, the army will be more accepting. You can’t lie. If a guy fell in love with you and you settled, it would all come out eventually. You can’t do that to someone else, Bernie. You just can’t.”

She was staring at Bernie intensely, she hated lying, always said it was the worst quality someone could have.

“You’re right, I know. Sorry,” she hung her head, tears threatening. “What if opinions don’t change, though? If people think I’m unnatural, a freak?”

Serena patted her hand. “I think if you find the right person, then none of it will matter. You’ll just want to be with them, and you couldn’t imagine life without them. You want to be with them more than anything else in the world and the hate will be nothing compared to that amazing lightness you feel in your chest. When you look at them, you won’t see anything that’s happening around you and you’ll want to make it work. You’ll want to shout it from the rooftops.”

Bernie honked, unable to keep a straight face. Serena turned to her indignantly.

“What?!”

“McKinnie! Are you drunk?!”

“I bloody hope so!”

“You’ve been watching too many films. Come on we’d better get back before your mum wonders where you are!”

*

Serena could see the faraway look in Bernie’s eyes as she almost subconsciously danced to the song. She was obviously deep in thought, not for the first time that night. Serena was concerned, normally Bernie told her everything, Serena was her one outlet for the emotions and troubles she usually kept bottled up.

“Ah, Serena, how about you be my very own brown eyed girl? You don’t mind, do you Bernie?”

Edward had cut between them, but Bernie barely noticed so Serena had no choice but to be whisked away by Edward. He wasn’t so bad, she supposed. He was rather attractive and not a bad dancer. She kept an eye on Bernie, who had been found by her hockey team and was dancing with them. Their eyes met and Serena rolled hers, indicating towards Edward, but all she received was a tight-lipped smile.

She pushed Edward away as the next song started. The memories of them dancing in her bedroom to this, Bernie tripping over a light, came to the front of her mind. The simplicity, pure joy, no cares in the world. Bernie found her across the dance floor, eyes alight and with no hint of the previous concern.

Bernie chuckled to herself at Serena posing with her hands on her hips. Her confidence radiated from her, she wasn't afraid of who was watching, she was perfectly happy and lost in the music. Her energy was infectious, and Bernie knew she would get caught up in it herself soon, despite being self-conscious. Looking around, she saw that no one was watching, and she started to move in time, when Serena grabbed her arm and span her round.

The shock made her stumble and Serena caught her, propping her back up and throwing her head back in laughter. They were dancing close together now, Bernie trying not to stand on anyone's toes as the crowd pressed in around them. She found the rhythm again and felt something lift from her shoulders.

She looked at Serena, this was how it was supposed to be; two friends dancing, laughing. Nothing complicated. The ease between them was something Bernie had never expected to find, growing up she'd been private, unwilling to open up to friends. She never would have thought she would find a friend in someone like Serena. Unlikely as it was, she wouldn't change it for the world, and she certainly wouldn't ruin it by muddying the waters with feelings.

The music changed to a song she didn't recognise, but Serena grinned and started singing. Bernie listened to the words, trying to pick them up so she could join in.

I travel the world and the seven seas. Everybody's looking for something.

She felt a lump rise in her throat. She always thought she would never look for love. If it found her then so be it, but she was scared of the consequences. She loved medicine and had a deep, burning desire to go to the army. Her father always said it was no place for a woman, that she wouldn't be able to have a family if she signed up. Her father's disappointment hurt but love wasn't something she needed to feel complete.

She would be travelling the world, hopefully. But was it in search of something? No, it was to run, from a family and a world where she never truly felt she belonged. Until now. In a world that hated her, well, what she was, there was Serena. Did Bernie need to travel the world to look for something? Or had she found it right here? Her thoughts were swimming, clouded by alcohol, and she didn't know what to do.

Edward cut between them for the second time that night and she scowled, but it was probably a blessing. She needed to go to the bathroom and clear her head, so she pointed in that general direction, hoping Serena wouldn't follow her.

*

Serena watched as Bernie slipped away to the toilets but she could tell by her expression she wanted to be alone. Bernie had never understood the 'girls going to the bathroom in packs' and so she let her go. Hopefully she would return with another drink for Serena.

Edward pressed close to her and she started to feel claustrophobic. He was by now incredibly drunk and was openly staring at her chest, a slightly lecherous grin on his face. She coughed and his eyes flicked up to her face, and she did her best unimpressed stare, one eyebrow arched threateningly. To his credit he apologised, but his eyes still wandered away from her own.

She sighed, wondering whether there was any guy out there that could appreciate a girl's looks without being so obsessed with sex. Someone who would compliment her for intelligence rather than beauty. She knew she was a flirt and could always charm a guy around to her way of thinking. She liked to be desirable as well. But no one had ever really caught her attention and if they did, she soon found they weren't interested in a girl with aspirations and a passion for medicine like she did.

She hoped things would be different at university, that there would be likeminded people who she could study with and socialise with. She had this big dream, meeting someone who would respect her, hold similar opinions but be different enough that they could have debates, putting the world to right over coffee or wine. A friend first and foremost, always there to listen. Caring, thoughtful, intelligent. Someone who felt like home.

She stopped suddenly as her train of thought came screeching to a halt. One word in her mind: Bernie.

Edward looked at her, concerned, but she shook her head and carried on dancing. Tried to carry on like nothing had happened, but her entire world felt like it had been spun on its axis. Hadn't she just described her best friend? The person she was going to miss the most when she left this school. The one she felt drawn to, who always knew how to cheer her up or calm her down when she was angry. She had other friends of course. But no one quite like Bernie.

And now they were going away, all they had was the summer. Bernie was going to the army and Serena wasn't stupid, she knew very few people stayed friends after school. Not long term. She was losing Bernie when she'd only just realised how much she meant. It would almost be easier if she had never realised.

She looked across the room, immediately picking out her tall, slim figure and messy curls that Serena always threatened to tame (but secretly loved). She was getting drinks and Serena excused herself from Edward’s company. His hand trailed down her back as she turned, but a sharp glare soon stopped him.

She sidled up beside Bernie, touching her arm gently in greeting.

“Serena, don’t feel like you have to come and keep me company. I’m sure you’d much rather be dancing with Edward.”

She could hear the bitterness in Bernie’s voice, was it jealousy?

“Don’t be silly, it’s not an obligation. I would much rather be with you than him. He’s barely looked at my face once tonight. Egotistical creep.”

“What, so you don’t….you know….like him?” Bernie visibly relaxed and her expression softened.

“No! Honestly, Bernie what’s going on?” her eyes dropped and she stammered before responding.

“I…I…I didn’t like the look of him. You could do so much better, tha- that’s all,” she glanced up at Serena through her fringe, her eyes wide with earnest.

She narrowed her eyes, not quite believing her. “Come on, let’s dance, you can show Edward how to dance with some respect,” she joked, but she saw a small change in Bernie’s expression again. A little tension, trepidation. It was gone as quickly as it appeared and Bernie nodded, following her back into the crowd.

“And this next one is for all those young couples, it’s your last day at school together. Grab your partner!” The DJ announced and Bernie paled.

“No, no, I can’t slow dance, Serena. Besides, what will people think?”

Serena looked around before fixing Bernie with a stare. “Look, loads of the girls are dancing together, we’re best friends. Everyone knows that, they won’t care at all. As for the slow dancing, I’ll lead, you follow.”

Bernie gulped and nodded, linking their hands. Serena marvelled at their softness, delicate and tender. Not roughly grabbing, just intertwined fingers slightly cooler than her own.

Babe I'm leavin' I must be on my way The time is drawing near My train is going I see it in your eyes The love, the need, the tears.

Her stomach coiled and tightened, her pulse racing. University beckoned, doors open with a promise of a fresh start for both of them. This was an opportunity. It didn’t matter what happened because if it went wrong, if Bernie didn’t feel the same, then they could leave. But those open doors would close quickly behind them and if she didn’t say something now then she would always wonder.

But I’ll be lonely without you And I’ll need your love to see me through So please believe me My heart is in your hands And I’ll be missing you

She sang the words softly, pulling Bernie fractionally closer so her mouth was close to her ear.

“I’m going to miss you so much Bernie. I mean it, I don’t know how I’ll get through university without you there as well. You’ll be having such a wonderful time and you’ll forget all about me. Please, promise me that you won’t be too scared, or ashamed. That if, no, when, you find someone you won’t let fear get in the way. I couldn’t bear to think of you unhappy, and I care about you so much,” she bit her lip, willing the tears to not spill onto her cheeks. As she was composing herself she heard a sob from Bernie and felt her pull away.

Somehow, she took away the warmth. Serena hadn’t noticed it but now they were apart there was a gaping hole and a chill in Serena’s core.

“I can’t do this, Serena, I’ve, I’ve got to go,” Bernie’s voice was close to breaking. She ran from the dancefloor before she had a chance to ask what was wrong. She was stunned.

“You know, I think this is the bit where you run after her,” Serena turned to see Sian right behind her. They were quite close, had been in the same class for most of their O levels.

“Sian, what are you talking about?”

“Serena, don’t be naïve. I can see you like each other. You’re both too stubborn to admit it though. And Bernie is definitely terrible at talking feelings. You’ll have to go after her. Make the first move!”

“I...I didn’t even realise it myself until about 20 minutes ago. How can I tell her, she probably doesn’t feel the same way back. And now somehow I’ve said something to upset her but I don’t know what-“

“Because she’s so bad a talking. Ask her about medicine, or feminism and she’ll natter for hours. As soon as you mention any feeling she clams up. Except to you. You need to get her to open up.”

Serena raised an eyebrow and smirked, “No offence but why on earth would I take advice from you?”

Sian grinned, “Hey, I may not want the whole childhood sweetheart thing for myself, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see it in other people. Apparently before they see it themselves.”

She winked and Serena flushed. If Sian was right and people thought Bernie liked her back…..

“I’ve got to go, thank you,” she wrapped Sian in a hug and made a beeline for the door. She hoped Bernie hadn’t gone too far.

*

Bernie sat against a tree in the grounds, the tears flowing down her face as she sipped the whisky straight from the flask. She didn’t care that her dress would be getting wet, she couldn’t feel the cool chill settling in the night air.

Serena’s words had hit her, punched straight through and left a gaping hole. How was it possible to feel this much, and yet be numb at the same time? The last few hours had passed Bernie in a daze, but in that moment, the two of them dancing, there had been a rush of sound. Time had stopped and Bernie had tried to commit each detail to memory: Serena’s delicate fragrance, her soft hands, the feel of her weight as they moved in time to the music, her sweet voice singing and harmonising with the music. That had been enough, for Bernie. She had decided that they could be friends, she would treasure that moment where nothing had mattered and they would carry on as normal.

But what had Serena meant? Her voice had been close to breaking when she said she cared about Bernie. It almost sounded like she was saying goodbye, sealing their friendship into a yearbook, a memory to be found many years later with a nostalgic smile.

Forget Serena? Not possible. Let fear get in the way of her own happiness? That was second nature.

She didn’t need to look up to know Serena was coming towards her. She stared at her knees, pretending not to notice, but Serena slid down next to her and lifted the flask from her hands, taking a swig.

“You probably don’t want to talk, but I do. As in, I want to say something to you, but you don’t have to respond. Is that okay?”

She nodded, not daring to meet her eyes. She didn’t know where this was going and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. But Serena had asked.

“I’m sorry for what I said, I don’t quite know which part of it upset you, but it did and that wasn’t what I intended. I’m…confused…no, that’s not the right word. I realised tonight that you are more than my best friend. I don’t know what that means for me, or for us. But I needed to tell you.”

Bernie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She stared, dumbfounded.

“If you don’t feel the same then that’s fine, like I said I couldn’t bear for you to be unhappy. I couldn’t go to uni not knowing. So, now you know.”

Bernie was still dumbstruck, unable to process what was happening. “You obviously don’t, I’ll- I’ll go,” Serena went to stand up and leave. Bernie’s brain finally caught up with what was happening, her thoughts having to wade through the alcohol, and she took Serena’s hand.

“No, wait. I…” she trailed off, she hadn’t got much further than this. All her brain had been screaming was don’t let her go. And now she didn’t know how to make her stay.

“I’m sorry I ran. You’re right, I was scared. Scared of ruining a friendship, because it felt like you were saying goodbye, because I couldn’t think of ever meeting anyone else that would make me happy. Scared of you forgetting me.”

Her voice was a whisper as if something inside was trying to stop her saying them. She pushed on regardless.

“I don’t want you to think that I’ve only been friends with you because…I mean, I only just realised it, maybe only just consciously admitted it to myself tonight. I’ve not been pining or…or…”

Serena cut her off with a low chuckle, wiping tears from her cheeks. “I don’t think that, at all.”

She glanced down at Serena’s lips, the emotion and alcohol encouraging her to lean forwards. She didn’t know what to expect. It wasn’t like the movies, where the kiss happens after months of wondering, building expectations in her head. She had never kissed anyone before, except for a dare in primary school.

It was tender, nervous, she could feel Serena’s hand shaking slightly against her cheek. They parted, both looking deep into the other’s eyes, searching for signs of regret. Bernie glanced around, but no one was nearby. She shuffled closer and tentatively placed her hand at the nape of Serena’s neck. A thought flitted through her mind.

What happens after this? After prom, after summer? Is this a reaction to the thought of losing a friend? Is it real?

She pushed the thought away, reminding herself to not be scared. This was real, this as what she wanted. She couldn’t deny herself with what ifs. Serena had told her to not let fear get in the way. Their lips met again, this time with more confidence.

*

Serena had been surprised at first, not expecting Bernie to express her feelings, certainly not expecting her to kiss her. But the moment their lips touched she knew it was right. She sounded cliché but she didn’t care, the softness and sweet taste were perfect. She’d enjoyed kissing guys in the past, but stubble could be irritating and comparing it with this. Maybe it was Bernie, maybe it was girls. Serena found she didn’t really care.

They stopped as Bernie shuddered from the cold. Serena stood and took Bernie’s hand.

“Do you want to go back inside? There’s still a bit of time before the bus takes us back to school.” Their parents would be collecting them the next day.

They made their way back inside and Bernie didn’t miss the questioning look from Sian, and the small thumbs up Serena gave in response.

“What was that about?” She whispered in her ear and Serena chuckled.

“Well apparently we weren’t the first to acknowledge there was something between us. She decided I needed a bit of encouragement. She’ll probably be gloating about playing cupid for a while yet.”

The tension had lifted from Bernie and she danced happily with the rest of the year, always close to Serena.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen it’s time for your last dance. I hope you’ve all had a great night!”

Bernie turned towards Serena and held out a hand. She grinned and took it, pulling them close together. They both sang, swaying from side to side. A peace settled over Bernie, once again living in the moment, but this time delighted that she didn’t have to commit it memory because she could live it, and many more like it, again. Hopefully.

Oh I want the truth to be said.

They weren’t ready for the truth to be released to the world. But they had told the truth to themselves, and each other. That was the most important part.

“What happens now, Bernie?”

Serena’s voice cut through her thoughts. It was the one niggling thought at the back of her mind, that she was ignoring because it was too hard to contemplate. That they had come together and would soon be parted, all too soon. It would have been hard, but that night’s events would make it even more unbearable. Was what she had to gain worth the inevitable pain and suffering further down the line? She grimaced, that was not the right mentality, but she was always preparing for the worst.

“I don’t know, but I can’t think straight. Too much alcohol, too many emotions. We have the summer. We’ll talk about it, work it out.”

Serena smiled contently, hugging Bernie a bit closer.

“You’re right, we can write, see each other in the holidays. What’s that thing Churchill said? Something about not looking too far ahead. I suppose I should take my own advice, not let fear get in the way,” she paused for a moment and then giggled. “It seems I can’t think straight, either.”

Bernie groaned at the pun and they settled into a comfortable silence, each pondering how they had reached this point. The night had seemed so short, yet at the same time getting ready had been a lifetime ago. Neither could have predicted what happened tonight but it felt familiar and looking back how could they have not known. Their presence in each other’s lives was vital, not to make them complete but to add a vibrant colour, a harmony to an already beautiful composition.

It is a mistake to look too far ahead. Only one link of the chain of destiny can be handled at a time – Winston Churchill.

Fin.

#fic #berena #berena au #prom

[18silverwolf]

Jeremy Gilbert Imagines: Imagine 2: when you call out Jeremy's name part 2 to Imagine 1

As i walked down the stairs of the back porch and made my way towards a very sweaty Jeremy. I noticed that he looked a lot more buff then before he left after his aunts funeral. I smiled knowing that Jeremy would see me soon and i would be wrapped up in his arms even if he is sweaty.

"JEREMY?" I asked as he turned around he looked at me he put the axe down and opened his arms. I ran into his arms and he wrapped them around my small body. "what are you doing here?" He mumbled into my hair "I wanted to surprise you and Elena told me besides i missed you" I mumbled in to his chest as a reply. he chuckled and kissed the top of my head.

"I missed you too" He replied as he put his hand on my cheek and made me look up at him where his soft lips came into contact with my own lips. The kiss never gets old, no matter how many times we have kissed, he is the only one that can make me feel like this.

He deepened the kiss, he placed his hands under my butt giving it a small squeeze "Jump" He mumbled against my lips. I did as i was told. he pinned my up against a tree as he held me. one of my hands were tangled in his hair and my other was at the back of his neck.

"MmHMMM" someone cleared their throat. Jeremy and i broke away from the kiss "I know you two haven't seen each other for a while but i was wondering y/N if you are staying for dinner?" Matt asked.. Of course he would interrupt a moment me and Jeremy were finally having. I looked at Jeremy to see him watching me intensely i looked back at matt "Only if you have enough?" I replied Matt broke out into a smile "There's always enough" He replied before walking away.

I turned back to Jeremy to see him already looking at me, "Nothing it's just i never realised how much i really missed you" He said as he looked down "oh please like Mr hunter would miss me" I said teasingly Jeremy looked up at me and raised an eyebrow "You better run for that comment" Jer said.

oh no i knew what i was in for. My eyes went wide and i started to run. he was hot on my tail when suddenly i felt strong arms wrapping around my waist as we fell to the ground. Jeremy was on top of me and he smirked "Jeremy Please Don" I didnt get a chance to finish my sentence because his fingers where tickling my side i bursted into a fit of laughter.

"Jer. Jer. I . Cant. Breathe." I said through my giggles. I heard him laugh when he suddenly stopped his tickle torture. Only for him to lean down and kiss me again. I smiled into the soft passionate kiss. I finally felt home.

Jeremy and i stood up and started to walk back to the kitchen when i decided to tease him again. "So Hunter, is that how you torture all your victims?" I said smirking at him he raised an eyebrow and i knew i just started something. I bolted to the kitchen and ran behind Matt "Matt help me hes going to tickle me" I said "Matt hand her over" Jeremy said crossing his arms across his toned chest... Damn that boy is gonna kill me.

Matt looked at Jeremy and then at me when matt through me over his shoulder and handed me to Jeremy. I was now over Jeremy's shoulder. I crossed my arms and glared at Matt "TRAITOR MATT" I said as i huffed.

Jeremy and Matt laughed. Jeremy took me to his room. "WOW this room is amazing" I said as Jer placed me on his bed, his room was fit for a king. it had a stone fire place and a candle chandelier hanging from the room. (Pic below )

I was laying on his bed while he went for a shower. Jeremy walked out in nothing but a towel around his waist showing is perfect sculptured chest and stomach. Is this boy trying to kill me Damn. He smirked once he noticed that i was checking him out before Jeremy could tease me about staring there was a nock on the door. "COme in i said" Jeremy looked at me "Hey this is my room"he said  I rolled my eyes at him "HEy guys dinner is ready" Matt said staring at Jeremy with a smirk playing on his face. "Great im straving" I said as i walked past Matt to the kitchen.

Jeremey's POV:

After Y/N walked out of the room after matt said dinner was ready. Matt and i stood there for a moment thinking. "YOU know i havent seen you smile for a while Jeremy and now that your Girl is here its like you cant stop. and what Caroline and Elena told me, Y/n hasnt really been out of her room or house after you left especially after she kicked her father out, so i was thinking what if you asked her to live here with us, we can protect her and we can teach her to protect herself and you will both be together?" Matt said I looked at him.

i was thinking everything matt just said makes sense, I cant believe that she was hurting and missing me just as much as i was missing her. I nodded at Matt "Sounds like a great idea Matt. I'll ask her at dinner" I replied he nodded and left.

I Quickly got dressed. as i finished getting dressed i felt my heart skip a beat. what if she says no or what if she doesnt want to stay here with me... all the what ifs were running through my head. I dont want to lose her i have lost enough people that i have loved in the past i dont want her to add to the list.

I walked out of my room to the kitchen. to See her laughing and Smiling at whatever lame Joke Matt just told her. I smiled my nerves disappearing after seeing her beautiful smile and hearing her contagious laugh. I sat down beside her and put my arm around the back of her chair. She smiled at me and leaned in to kiss my cheek. Matt handed me and Y/n a bowl of his famous spaghetti. after we had all finished eating dinner. It was time for me to ask her to move in with me and Matt.

"So Y/n Matt and I were talking before and we.. I mean me i was wondering if you would move in with us?, only if you want to, its up to you its just a suggestion but if you dont want to thats fine i understa..." I was cut off with soft lips on mine she pulled away with a big smile "I would love to move in with you" She replied.

Matt smiled "Good then tomorrow we will all go and get your things and we can set you up a room" Matt said hugging me.

4 months later:

you were already moved in with Matt and Jeremy, and you were so happy that you did because you are with the boy you are madly in love with and the boy who was always like your older brother Matt.

since the day you moved in with boys the figured out that you were on of the founding families which means your also a hunter thanks to your great great grandfather. the boys havent stopped training you. the weapon that you always use is a bow and arrows. where Jeremy uses a Cross bow. However for the past coupled of weeks you have been throwing up your breakfast and the boys are worried.

so today you decided to go into Mystic falls and get yourself a pregnancy test just to be safe. However Jeremy wanted to go with you because he had his own secret that he was keeping from you. he wanted to go see Elena and Stefan so you agreed.

You both arrived at Elena's and Stefan's house to be greeted by a pregnant Elena. you smiled and hugged her and Jeremy did the same. Elena and i walked up to the nursery because she wanted to show me the baby's room. "Hey Elena can i ask you a favour?" I asked looking down and playing with my fingers. "Yes of course" "I think i'm Pregnant but i haven't told Jeremy because i want to make sure" I said really fast she nodded. she pulled me into her bathroom and handed me 2 pregnancy tests "Use these and wait ill see if Stefan can get Jer out of the house for a bit okay" She said walking out of the bathroom.

I did my business by peeing on the stick. Once i was finished i pulled my pants up and sat on the floor with my back against the sink cabinets when Elena walked in, "Did you put a timer on?" i just nodded.

5 mins later:

the timer went off, it felt like hours before it went off. I grabbed one of the sticks and it was positive while Elena grabbed the other "Their both positive" I said shocked when suddenly we heard Stefan and Jeremy's voice "Babe where are you?" Jeremy and Stefan yelled.

I looked at Elena and we walked down stairs to see the boys talking when suddenly i felt really anxious. "Hey Jeremy can we talk?" I asked my voice shaking. He nodded and we walked up into his old room "Whats up babe" He said as he looked at me. I looked down and handed him the pregnancy test.  

He didn't say anything which started to make me more nervous than what i already was. I looked down when suddenly i was pulled into a tight embrace. My face was buried in his chest when he placed a warm hand on my cheek and made me lift my head up. Jeremy kissed me hard. and he ran out of the room.

I was confused but followed after him to see him run into the living room and yelled "I'M GOING TO BE A DAD" Stefan and him bro hugged and Elena Hugged me then she hugged Jeremy and Stefan hugged me.

Relief flooded through my body. then i realised something. I went up to Jeremy and Punched him in the arm "Jerk" I said Elena started laughing knowing exactly why i hit him "WOuld have been nice for you to tell me you were happy about this instead of running down stairs with out saying a word" I said his eyes went wide "OH sorry baby I forgot" I rolled my eyes as he pulled me into his body. i turned around to talk to Elena when i saw Stefan give Jeremy the look.

I turned to see Jeremy on one knee and a box in his hand. I gasped and looked at Elena her eyes were just as wide as my own.  "Y/N I have loved you ever since we first met and i am always going to be here for you just as you were there for me, I have never been this happy for a long time and you helped me become a better person and I won't let you or our baby down, So Y/N Y/L/N will you do me the honour of becoming my beautiful wife" Jeremy said.

I was speechless but looked at Jeremy and said "YESS" He stood up and placed the ring on my finger and I smashed my lips to his. 

[simplysdmn]

Feelings -Cal

Anonymous said to simplysdmn: Please do an imagine where you have a FWB relationship with Cal(Freezy) but he also hooks up other girls with so you think that there will never be a relationship between you but when he sees you with another guy he realises he wants to be more than just fwb? Thanks

A/N: Hey babe! I hope you like this!

Masterlist

Ask/Request

Y/N’s POV

Another day in the tower was another day seeing Callum bring back another girl back to the apartment. I was always sat on their couch and turned my head to the door and some girl that I didn’t recognise was always on his arm.

I tried to drill into my head that I shouldn’t and couldn’t have feelings for him. I knew what I was falling into, that there was a possibility that I could fall for him. I couldn’t deny the feelings. I couldn’t deny that I had it for him. Every time I saw him my heart rate picked up, the butterflies in my stomach were evident. I knew he didn’t see me the same way though, it was quiet obvious. A new girl everyday, if I was lucky maybe every week.

All his friends knew that I wanted us to be more the friends with benefits but I always told them that it wouldn’t ever happen, that us wouldn’t ever happen. So when I looked at him I saw nothing but someone I used for sex. I felt bad for myself at times. I always fell into his traps, one day he would be all over me, the next he had another girl coming over. It was a constant loop that I couldn’t fall out of.

I woke up beside him, his back turned away from me. The lights from his phone were shining off his face. I shook my head and turned away. I got up and picked up the items of clothing that were scattered around his room. I walked into his bathroom and brushed my teeth. I made myself somewhat decent with the clothes I had. I had forgotten to bring my own change of clothes and I didn’t want to be taking Cal’s clothes anymore. 

“Hey, where are you going?” His groggy voice called out. I looked back him and gave him a small smile.

“Home.” He gave me a weird look, sitting up just as I was about to walk out.

“Usually you stay for breakfast. Is there something going on that I’m not aware of?” I sighed, I didn’t want to fall for his games again.

“No, I think I’m going to hang out with my brother for the rest of the day.” He gave me a pout that instantly melted my heart but I stood tall and shook my head.

“I’ve already promised him I’d be home early, I can’t stay any longer. My cab should be here any minute now.” I put on my jacket and walked out of his apartment.

I arrived home with an ill stomach partly because I felt bad that I had just left him but I knew he was probably texting the next girl so they could meet up the second I left. It was toxic for the both of us but as I said earlier it was a never ending loop that I couldn’t get out of.

I spent the whole day with my family. It took my mind off a lot of things, I didn’t want to spend the whole day thinking about how much I missed Cal. How much I wanted to be in his arms, how much I wished he wanted to be with me. 

“Y/N are you alright? You seem a little off?” My mom questioned me as we cleaned the dishes from dinner. I nodded, snapping out of my daze giving her a small smile.

“Yeah why?”

“Ever since you’ve come home from his house, you’ve been quiet and you look uneasy.” She dried her hand and led me towards the dinner table. Sitting me down. She knew all about him, she knew the situation between us. My mom told me I needed to tell him how I felt but I always told her that it would ruin everything between us.

“I feel so alone when I’m not with him but when I’m with him I feel empty, like I there’s something missing .” I sighed.

“I think you should take a little break from him and just find someone new you can talk to.” We had a long talk before we said our goodnights and we went to bed.

I stayed awake for the whole night just thinking about her advice. Maybe she was right. Maybe I did need to move forward and find someone new. I talked to my friends about it and they recommended trying dating apps. I had managed to get a few matches, none of them compared to him but I did go ahead with this.

We were sat in this semi formal restaurant. So far our talk was filled with laughs and giggles. I had never felt this happy before. Any thought of Callum had left my mind. I just wanted to enjoy this moment with him and have fun. Our drinks arrived and we had cheered.

“So, how have you been since we last seen each other.” He asked drinking his wine.

“I’ve been great actually. Finally done with uni so I’ve got lots of free time.” I smiled.

“That means I’ll be seeing you more often then?” 

“I wouldn’t necessarily say no.” We talked for ages, all through out our meal. It wasn’t up until we were almost finished our main course that a group of load boys came walking through. It was all the boys from the Tower, I smiled and at the thought of how much I missed my friends. I saw Cal walk in with a smile on his face. He was texting someone and I already knew it must of been some girl he was going to have sex with by the end of the night. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, earning a looking of confusion by my date.

“Do you know them?”

“Yeah, they’re my friends! It just I haven’t seen them in a while and it’ll be quiet awkward.” I smiled nervously. He nodded and looked over the boys.

“Why don’t you go over and say hi!” I shook my head.

“No I wouldn’t want to ruin the date, besides they’re bound to notice me at some stage.” We switched topics and continued to eat, I could sense the tension between us, as if he knew something about me.

“I can’t help but notice that you keep looking over at a specific boy. Is there something I should know?” I widened my eyes and shook my head.

“No, we’re just friends nothing more.” He gave me a weird look. We stayed silent and ate our dessert.

“Oh my God! It’s Y/N!” I looked over at the table and saw Joel waving at me. I excused myself and walked over to the table. He stood up to give me a hug, while the rest waited for me to give them a hug.

Cal’s POV

I looked over at the guy she was with. She was smiling and laughing and looked happy. I saw something in her that I could never bring out. I don’t remember the last time I saw her smile when she was with me. I started thinking how much she had distanced her from me. I was thinking about how many times she saw me with someone else even though we promised we’d have no strings attached.

I couldn’t help but say that I had gained feelings for her and try to get them to go away I tried sleeping with the next girl. The further she distanced herself, the more I realised how much i could’ve been hurting her. I looked over at her, she was laughing at whatever Harry had said to her. 

“We’ve missed you a lot. You should come visit us.” Joel said.

“I don’t know, I’ll see what I can do.” She smiled, looking over at me and waved. I waved back and stood up going over to hug her.

“Hello.” She spoke softly when we pulled away.

“Hey, how are you?”

“Good and yourself?”

“Not bad. Is that your boyfriend?” I nodded over at the guy.

“No, we’re just talking.” We all talked a bit more before she went back to her date. She waved back at us before walking out with him.

The minute we got home, I jumped into bed. My thoughts were muddled and were in a ball. I didn’t know what I wanted with her. Maybe I just wanted her body, maybe I wanted something more than just a sexual relationship. I began thinking about what it would be like if we were together. I began thinking about how much I needed someone as supportive as her in my life. 

Before we decided to be friends with benefits, she was probably my best friend. She was always supportive and always by my side. I think it was that idea that ruined our relationship. We were distanced from each other. The only time we saw each other was when we were in a bedroom. I missed her a lot.

My finger lingered over her contact. I was on the verge of spilling my feelings to her. I really wanted to but I was also thinking about the negatives that could my way because of this. I put my phone down on my beside table and walked out into the kitchen and saw standing in the hallway talking to Cal and Harry. Harry looked over at me and walked away, leaving it to just her and Cal. I walked to the kitchen to get my drink before going back to my room.

“Wait Cal. Can we talk?” She called out for me just before I was about to step into my room. I nodded and opened the bedroom door to let her in. She sat on the edge of my bed quietly. It looked she was trying to gather her thoughts.

“I’m sorry.” I said. She gave me a confused look.

“For everything I put you through I guess. I know we said their would be no strings attached but I gained feelings for you and I tried to dismiss them by going out with any girl I could find. I know that I put you through a lot of my shit but I really want start over.” She was looking out the window, Looking for something to say.

“Cal, I have feelings for you to but how do I know you’re not going to do the exact same thing again.” She sighed, playing her bracelet.

“I won’t ever do it again because I know that I’m going to be working towards something new. We’ll make this work i promise.” I sat down next to her and took her hands in mine.

“I guess we can start brand new. You never know until you try.” She smiled, giving me a tight hug.

#callum airey #calfreezy imagine #calfreezy #sidemen imagines #callum airey imagine

[lokifiction]

Caught in the Crossfire

The day the Battle of New York occurred was a fateful one, especially for Camryn, who was caught in the crossfire of a Chitauri weapon and Loki’s Tesseract-powered scepter, the blast sending her into a comatose state.

When Thor returns to Midgard to assist with rescue efforts, he finds her, unconscious and close to death, though emitting a strong magical trace. Puzzled by it, the prince brings her to Asgard for medical care- and observation.

Over time, the mystery of what salvation or destruction she will cause because of her magical abnormality becomes harder and harder to solve. As she begins to lose control of herself, she must seek help from the only person that can teach her how to harness her newfound power and the one who happens to hate her the most.

Loki.

Category: Fanfic

Rating: Teen

Notes: Hi, guys! I know I always apologize for late updates, but I felt particularly bad about this one. I planned to try to write a lot in my last month of summer, but I’m in the process of uploading the fics from this page onto ao3 (more info about that later), so that already caused some delays. Then rehearsals and my conditioning program for the year started, pushing my writing back even further. And then, when I finally finished the chapter, a bunch of busywork stuff came up, and I never had time to get it edited. Every night I couldn’t get this up I felt absolutely awful, and I’m so sorry! I hope this proves worth the wait for you guys!

Warnings: Some language and very mild mentions of sexual content in this one. Enjoy!

Masterlist

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

Chapter Fifteen

           Despite our heartfelt declarations and our supposed new relationship, hardly anything changed in Loki’s and my routine, and the only thing altered in our behavior towards each other was the addition of painful awkwardness. Loki had no more outbursts of hatred towards me and I stopped fearing they would happen, but we still weren’t in sync. We would share luncheon, served by Gerd and Inge (Toril had been mysteriously absent ever since the kiss), have a training session, then eat dinner together before retiring to our respective chambers. The only thing that would mark us out as being in a relationship were the hesitant touches and pecks we would share upon greeting and goodbyes. In fact, we had never been together anywhere outside of my chambers, and I hadn’t even seen his.

            Admittedly, the removal of prevalent fear in our dynamic helped me make excellent progress in my training, and I soon reached the point where I hardly ever had difficulties controlling my power. Loki, glowing with pride, had said that as far as my physical prowess, the containment training was nearly finished, and soon we would be able to move on to actually applying my abilities. The enormous hug he gave me the day I had no reaction to the most intense triggers he could summon was the most natural moment between us since the kiss, while every other gesture of affection, while genuine, seemed forced. I began to reflect on how little time we had actually known each other and began to wonder if we rushed into things too soon.

           I expressed as much to the girls as I was eating breakfast a week and a half after Loki and I kissed and had our reckoning, responding to Gerd’s question of why I seemed so jittery.

           “Well, he didn’t give you much of a choice,” Brenna commented, biting into a fig. I didn’t require check-ups after my lessons anymore, and wouldn’t again until we got to the stamina portion of my training, so she often came to take breakfast with me to keep in touch. “He took you and kissed you. Hard, from the way I hear it. You couldn’t just go back to normal after that. He threw any notion of a properly developing relationship out the window.”

           “I know, but we had such chemistry before,” I argued. “While it’s not completely gone, it’s considerably diminished. We’re not passionate now, yet we were when we still hated each other. Now we’re like two preteens in their first relationship.”

           “It s a completely new dynamic, and the two of you are just figuring it out.” Gerd topped off my tea, placing a comforting pat on my back before pouring herself a cup and settling into the chair next to Brenna. “Give it time.”

           “I just fear…” I broke off, staring at my hands. “I’ve just been thinking of how little we really know each other. I can count our interactions before the kiss on my fingers. I worry that our attraction for each other was just us reacting to extreme stressors and new situations, and that it’s not really there. I wish we would have had time to riddle that out before becoming entirely romantically involved.”

           “I agree with Gerd,” Inge put in, reclining in her seat. “Give it time. The two of you made a mistake by rushing into it, so just don’t let it happen again. Don’t force anything, and let it happen naturally. If it’s meant to be, it will all work itself out.”

           I nodded as I reached for my fork to finally devour the plate of delicious food that had made me queasy not a minute before, the churning in my stomach quelled a bit by their advice and reassurance. Around a bite of warm, spiced fig, I looked around at the women seated before me, my heart swelling with thanks that I was able to come across such a wonderful support group. Though, as I studied Gerd and Inge, I realized just how long it had been since I saw their third member.

           “Where has Toril been the past week?” I asked, attempting to sound casual. “I haven’t seen her since the night Loki and I kissed.”

           “She fell ill the next day, and has been in bed ever since,” Inge replied, blowing on her cup of hot cider.

           I cocked an eyebrow. “Suspicious timing.”

           “I thought so, too, until she didn’t get any better. She’s been locked in her room this entire time, and refuses to let anyone see her. Today she departed for a leave of absence to her mother’s house in the countryside until she recovers.”

           Brenna furrowed her brow. “If she’s so ill, why did she never come to the healers? Usually Eir has to give her permission for a member of staff to take a sick leave. We never even knew Toril was afflicted with anything.”

           Inge shrugged. “I’m just getting this all from Edill.”

           Brenna scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Edill is Toril’s lackey. I wouldn’t trust a word she says.”

           “I don’t entirely, but I did see Toril leaving the palace today.” Inge looked pointedly at me. “If she’s not sick, she’s up to something. I would be on your guard, Camryn. Part of the reason why Loki never kept his lovers for long was because Toril always got involved if they were around any longer than two weeks. She can be vicious.”

           I gulped, my food becoming unappetizing yet again. I had refrained from asking Loki about Toril thus far, but Inge’s information made me realize that I had to at the earliest opportunity. I needed to find out what was really going on, and why Toril felt the need to sabotage our first outing and hurt all of Loki’s past lovers, for my own safety. Surely he’d understand my fear and tell me for that reason.

           Though, an awful voice in my head crooned, if he doesn’t, it could ruin everything.

 ***

           “Good afternoon, Camryn.”

           “Good afternoon to you, Loki.” I stepped out of the doorframe to make room for him. “Come on in.”

           Loki entered the room with a smile and a tender brush on my upper arm. “How are you today?”

           “I’m good. And yourself?” I grit my teeth at how congenial we were being. We were like strangers on the street. No heat burned between us any longer, whether that heat be hatred or love.

           “I’m well. I’m eager to start your training today. It’s going to be an entirely new unit, so I’m anxious to see how it goes.”

           “Well, come and sit down for lunch so we can get started all the sooner.” I went to direct him to his chair, but at the same time he made to pull mine out for me, so we ended up gently colliding en route. With pressed giggles, we went to our own respective chairs and sat with our gazes trained on our plates.

           “I have somewhat exciting news,” Loki eventually announced, draping his napkin across his lap. “I thought that after our lesson, we might finally have our palace tour. I’ve made sure that there will be no interruptions this time.”

           My stomach knotted with nerves, but I knew I couldn’t pass up such a perfect opportunity.

           “So you heard about Toril’s illness, then? And that she left the palace?”

           “I heard about her leaving, though I doubt it’s from illness.” He snorted, raising his wine glass to his lips. “It’s probably best that she’s away for a while. There will likely be hell to pay when she returns, and this way we’ll have more time to prepare ourselves.”

           My breath hitched in my throat and I drew my trembling hands into tight fists. “Loki, I- can you...I was wondering…” I broke off with a frustrated sigh before blurting, “What’s your relationship with Toril?”

           “That…” He set his goblet down with an arduous movement that made me want to scream. “Is a long story. I suppose I should start from the beginning.

           “I was about four hundred and sixty-five years old when she came to the palace. By that point, I already had a reputation of being a womanizer, but I had yet to do the deed. Until she came along, that is.”

           Oh no, I inwardly moaned. Toril took his virginity, didn’t she?

           “Because of her low status, she was assigned to be a scullery maid upon her arrival. Usually, they work out of sight in the nobility, but in my youth I was always thinking of creative ways to evade my family and tutors, so I often crossed paths with them, anyway. I noticed her out of the corner of my eye a few times, and after a week or so I realized she was watching me.

           “One evening before bed, I was informed that the maid that usually tended to my fires in the middle of the night had sprained her ankle, and a substitute would be provided until she healed. I suspect that Toril injured my usual nighttime maid herself, and convinced the head of housekeeping to allow her to fill in.

           “I often stayed up until the early hours of the morning or didn’t sleep at all, and the idea of an unfamiliar person in my room whilst I was sleeping made me uneasy, so that night I sat in my armchair, tearing up a mystery novel my mother had gifted me that morning. I was there when Toril walked through the front door, and all she did was say ‘Good evening, Your Highness,” before abandoning her tools, coming over to straddle me, and kissing me deeply.

           “Now, Toril was a couple hundred years older than me, and her mother was a whore. They don’t like having children living in brothels, so I suspect she was put to work for her room the moment she was able. Though, Toril is the twisted type of person that actually enjoys that sort of work, and was very talented at what she did. All that experience drew me in, and the pleasure made me her prisoner. I remember her whispering to me, right after she strippped me bare, ‘Before I do this, promise me that you’ll put in a good word to your mother about me.’ I was so aroused at that point that I would’ve agreed to anything, so of course I said yes.

           “We were together that night and many others. I helped her rise through the ranks to become Mother’s handmaid, and she taught me everything I know. However, I was not one to be tied down at the time, and we never established any sort of relationship outside of sex, so after a few weeks I began pursuing other girls again. She didn’t like it, but tolerated the one-night-stands. However, if it went on for any longer than that, she became testy.

           “She learned that when I was truly interested in a girl, I would pursue them for longer. I wouldn’t jump right in and take them to bed, but I would romance them for a week or so, and often keep them around for about a moon. She picked up on this behavior, and she started doing things about it.

           “First, the girls would mysteriously fall ill or become injured before I could take them to bed a second time. Then it would happen before I could do it in the first place. I picked up on the act when girls started handing in their immediate resignations only a couple of days after I started pursuing them. I realized that, while I had no feelings for Toril other than lust, she had formed her own twisted kind of love for me. It was out of control.

          “Due to Toril’s eventual high status as my Mother’s handmaiden, we kept our ‘relationship’ a secret, so when she convinced me to stop pursuing other girls and Mother noticed that the stream of chambermaids and healers-in-training stumbling from my rooms in the morning had ended, it was decided that I was to have a betrothed- a Vana named Sigyn. Toril grew cold and refused to see me during the courting stage, but when Sigyn and her family came to stay in the palace as guests, they were only there three days before one night I was roused by Sigyn’s hysterical screams. I rushed to her chambers to see what was the matter, and through sobs she begged me not to come near her. Her party left before dawn the next morning, and they haven’t set foot on Asgard since. That night, however, Toril came to my chambers, and made me hers again.

           “Ever since, I’ve never courted anyone else, yet Toril has always just been the one I fucked. It’s quite sad, really, because when I think about it, I realize that I’ve lived a life devoid of loving someone outside of my own family. I came to her when I was upset, angry, frustrated, confused, happy, or just simply wanting it. There have never been any feelings from my side of it,  she was simply…”

           “She was your own hand, in a way,” I giggled, hoping the joke would distract me from my fear that he was lying about not really having feelings for her. The history the two had, even if it was just sex, was something I couldn’t ever hope to compete with.

           Loki chuckled. “That’s a particularly vulgar way to put it, but our relationship was vulgar, so I suppose it’s fitting.”

           I bit my lip hard, screwing my eyes shut and bunching the fabric of the gown in my fists. “And…have you been with her since we...since you started training me?”

           Loki reached across the table, running his fingers down my arm and around my elbow until I surrendered my hand to him, and he held it tightly.

           “I haven’t been with her in at least three years, though she’s made her advances. I’ve tenaciously refused every one, which I must admit, makes her come back with more vigor. But I made my decision long ago. Whatever strange relationship we had is over,” he assured. “You have nothing to worry about as far as infidelity through her. When she comes back to the palace, though, there will be backlash, but we’ll be ready for it, and I’ll make certain that no harm comes to you.” He squeezed my palm reassuringly, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a smile. I could only reply with a shaking breath, the edges of my lips twitching upward as I averted my eyes to the table. Loki’s brow furrowed in thought, and as he rubbed his thumb along the top of my hand, I realized that I was too distressed to realize that we were finally having a tender moment with no awkwardness.

           “I’ll tell you what,” he proposed. “Since you’ve been out of your cell, you haven’t had a day off from your training. You’ve made such good progress, so let’s not do the session today. What do you say we go straight out and have our tour, hm?”

           I raised my head and mustered a small, genuine smile, giving a single nod.

           So Loki and I set off, arm-in-arm and sharing light conversation, mostly composed of him telling stories, both personal and historical, about nearly every nook and cranny of the palace. It made me realize just how long he had lived, that he had so much to say and so many tidbits about a mind-bogglingly enormous building. He took me into ballrooms and galleries and dining rooms and throne rooms (apparently the one I had been in was used only for court), and by the time we reached the top floor of hundreds, the shadows were growing long and my stomach rumbled audibly. Loki chuckled at the sound.

           “Perhaps we should stop for the day, and go get you something to eat.”

           I looked up at him with an incredulous expression, inwardly noting that the tour had helped relieve even more of the discomfort between us.

           “‘For the day’?” I echoed. “What do you mean by that?”

           “Well, the tour is far from over,” Loki said theatrically. “I’ve merely shown you how to find your way around! There’s still so many rooms to take you into, and the secret passageways, and you haven’t even seen the grounds, except for the enclosed courtyards! And not to mention that once we’ve exhausted the palace, I have to show you the city, and then all the rest of Asgard.”

           I laughed, patting his bicep. “Well, I suppose we have our date night activity set for the next, what, ten years?”

           I waited for his joking reply, but he merely went stiff, eyes trained on something ahead of us. I followed his gaze to the end of the lengthy hall and noticed a relatively young man with chestnut waves, sporting luxurious goldspun robes, walking our direction. He didn’t notice us, however, for he was deep in conversation with an older man dressed in the dark colors of a personal servant.

           “Damn,” Loki muttered. “I forgot that I told everyone you were a visiting diplomat from Alfheim.”

           “What does that mean?” I whispered, sensing that this was a situation where I should keep my voice down.

           Loki broke our contact and stood in front of me, shielding me from view, scanning my face before reaching out and freeing the hair that I had absentmindedly tucked behind my ears at some point, rearranging and patting it down so that it thoroughly covered them.

           “You may look elvish in the face, but your ears are a dead giveaway. I meant to give them a glamour, but I never quite got around to it,” he explained. “Keep them hidden.”

           “Oh. Alright.” Stiff in my frazzled state, I merely watched as Loki manipulated me like a puppet into our previous position, completing it just as the robed man sent his servant away and focused his attention on us.

           “Good evening, Your Majesty. My lady,” he greeted, coming to a halt before us with a pompous, if not slightly smug, expression. His build was short and stocky, but he was still conventionally handsome, with sun-browned skin contrasting his light blue eyes.

           “Councilman Olaf.” Loki tipped his chin curtly. “Lady Camryn, may I present Olaf Umunson, a member of the High Council. Councilman Olaf, I introduce-”

           “The elven diplomat everyone’s speaking of,” Olaf interrupted, an unsettling gleam in his yes. “Camryn, you said your name was? How odd. That’s not an elvish name, rather, it sounds quite... Midgardian.”

           My heart leapt to my throat, and though Loki betrayed nothing in his expression or stance, a hard squeeze on my hand relayed his fear. Councilman Olaf knew something, but I sensed that Loki was silently urging me to find out the extent of his knowledge before revealing anything.

           “My parents simply wanted something different,” I improvised. “They were quite creative, and simply made it up.”

           “Hm.” Olaf pressed his lips together, thinly suppressing a smirk. “Alfheim certainly is a beautiful realm. What region are you from?”

           Before I could panic, a familiar voice echoed in my head, one I recognized as the Tesseract feeding me information.

           The elves that have dark hair and eyes like you usually come from the forests in the south, it whispered.

           “The south,” I piped up, feeling Loki ever-so-slightly relax next to me. “Near the forests.”

           “The most beautiful part of Alfheim, in my opinion.” Olaf rocked back and forth on his heels. “Forgive me, but I’m quite out of the loop of the current events of Alfheim. Who’s the king right now?”

           As the Tesseract fed me the answer, it became clear just how extensively Olaf was testing me. I raised my chin defiantly, puffing my chest up proudly.

           “Actually, there’s a queen on the throne right now.” It was my turn to smirk. “Queen Euraviel.”

           “Your Midgardian is educated quite well, my king,” Olaf chuckled darkly, and my smile vanished. “Did you school her up on Alfheim, or was that the Tesseract talking?”

           “Pardon?” I choked out.

           Olaf reached out and pushed my hair away from my ears. “Those aren’t the ears of a light elf. This little girl is a mortal, come here because she has power from the Tesseract.”

           “How do you know that?” Loki spat, drawing me closer to his side to prevent Olaf from touching me again.

           “There are a large handful of guards that have dealt with her when she’s been in the midst of dangerous states.” Olaf shrugged. “Men are as gossipy as women, you know.”

           “I know it wasn’t one of the guards.” Loki’s voice was dangerously low. “I and Queen Frigga before me put a spell on everyone that dealt with Camryn and did not have our unconditional trust. If they tried to speak of her, their voices would not work. If they tried to write things about her, their hands would be stilled. Gods, even if they tried to act things out, their bodies would become petrified. I will ask once more: who told you?”

           “A concerned citizen that wishes to remain anonymous.” Olaf remained nonplussed. “One that told the High Council that this mortal is very, very dangerous.”

           “I’m training her to control her power,” Loki said through gritted teeth. “She doesn’t have outbursts anymore, and now I’m teaching her how to apply her abilities.”

           “Then she will know how to use this incredibly dangerous force, and it could mean terrible things if she turned against Asgard.” Olaf began to walk away from us. “I’m not trying to anger you, Your Majesty. I’m just passing along the message that the Council wishes to meet with her tomorrow. Just the usual, simple inspection like we do for all unplanned guests; nothing to worry about.”

           Once Olaf was out of earshot, Loki broke away from me and swore in a different tongue, and though I didn’t know the direct translation, I could tell it was blistering.

           “Loki…” I began in a voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to provoke him further. “You know it was Toril that told him, right?”

           “Of course I know it was Toril.” Though Loki’s tone was sharp and biting, it was clear that his anger wasn’t directed towards me, and that he was only raging at the situation. “It doesn’t surprise me that it was Olaf she used, either. He’s the only one on the Council that’s not a shriveled old man. She likely gave him information and then fucked him to convince him to tell his peers and call the meeting. That’s exactly why I tried so hard to hide you: to keep the lecherous Council from interfering.”

           “What’s so awful about the Council?” I dared to question.

           Loki, who had been furiously pacing through our conversation, suddenly stilled, voice calming. “They’re the only beings on Asgard that have more power than I do.”

           “How can that be?”

           “Well, perhaps not on all counts. In most aspects, they’re a royal council like one you would see on Midgard. They’re the king’s chief advisers, and each of them are masters of certain aspects of Asgard. For example, Olaf is Master of Agriculture. There’s one Councilman for each of the nine districts of Asgard, and they serve lifelong terms. They’re selected by a popular vote from their district, because the motto of the High Council is to keep the interests of the people as their priority, and prevent them from having a tyrannical leader. If the vote between the nine of them is unanimous, they can overrule or nullify any laws or commands, and they can even remove a king from the throne.”

           “What if the Council just doesn’t like a king, or they’re the ones that are corrupt and tyrannical?” I questioned.

           “That’s why they’ve never been popular with the royalty. If a king tries to overrule the Council or remove one of its members, he’s instantly branded as a tyrant and the Council removes him.” Loki smiled bitterly. “That’s why I didn’t want them, more than everybody else in the palace, knowing who you really are. If they deem you a threat to Asgard and its people, they can override everything Frigga and I have done and take action to remove you.”

           “Something in your voice tells me that I don’t want to find out what removing me would consist of,” I whimpered. Loki, clearly not wanting me to be upset any longer, softened his expression and took his face in my hands. I was suddenly entirely distracted from my fear, for it was the most natural and passionate thing to happen between us since our first kiss, and my heart began to pound in my chest.

           “I’m sorry. I’m overreacting. You needn’t worry about them.” He dragged his thumbs along my cheekbones. “I’ll convince them that you’re harmless, and they’ll leave us alone. They don’t call me Silvertongue for nothing.”

           I closed my eyes and laughed once, savoring the feeling of his cool fingers drawing soothing lines on my skin and the tenderness with which he cradled my head. “I didn’t know they called you that.”

           “It won’t be long before you find out why.” He leaned in and kissed me briefly, playfully running his tongue along my lips before pulling away. It was a simple, quick thing, but it was enough to cause me to throw my hands up in surprise and leave me flushed and breathless. I suppose our problem with not having heat is officially a thing of the past, I thought, my head swimming.

           “Now, you were hungry, weren’t you?” Loki wrapped his arm around my waist, drawing me down from my daze. “Let’s go get you something to eat, hm?”

           And so we returned to my chambers and shared a meal with easy conversation suiting new lovers, filled with laughter and gentle touches, all the while our feet playfully rubbing against each other under the table.

           “Let’s change things up a bit,” Loki suggested as I walked him to the door at the end of the evening. “Would you like to come to my chambers for breakfast tomorrow?”

           I grinned. “I would love to.”

           “Wonderful. Good night, Camryn.” He leaned in and gave me a parting kiss, tender yet long. When he walked away, I felt as if I could float right after him, my toes tingling and my heart beating irregularly.

           “That certainly didn’t seem awkward,” Inge commented as she cleaned away the dishes. “What changed?”

           “We were angry and scared together. We have a common cause that’s drawing us closer,” I answered in a thin, dreamy voice, but as I slid down the door and hugged my knees to my chest, my mind couldn’t be further from Toril and the Council. All I could think of was Loki, and all I could do was count the seconds until I could have my lips on his again.

Next Chapter

#loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki/ofc

[getalittlecountry]

Shape of You (3)

And so the drama begins. Can’t wait to share more of this story with you. Also Can’t wait for Tuesday when we get to see more of our precious Nessian pairing =)

One Two

Chapter 3

Feyre was waiting on the porch when we pulled into the driveway. After breakfast Cassian had somehow talked me into letting him drive the rest of the way. It felt good to sit and watch the trees, I was taken back to all the years I spent in the passenger seat anticipating our annual trip to the lake house. It was the only time we felt like a real family, when we spent our time together swimming and laughing.

That all stopped when our mother died. We lost a lot when our mother finally gave into her illness. In a way our father had become a stranger, we had lost him too. It was just the three of us, banded together in order to keep some semblance of a family.

Feyre came running down the walk and I smiled as she ran right into me. She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me only the way a little sister could. Tight and long, as if she thought she was enough to put me back into the girl she had once known. The girl she didn’t even realize was gone.

I hugged her back, “hey little sis.”

She pulled away to look at me. She touched my cheek, the same gesture my mother used to do so long ago. I couldn’t believe how much she looked like her. Feyre was our mother’s spitting image as well as her twin. She had the same gestures, the same everything. And she had been the youngest, she couldn’t remember much about the woman who never got to raise her.

“Nesta you look good,” she said softly running her thumb along my cheek, “I can’t believe how much I missed you, big sis.”

I laughed, fighting off tears, “yeah well you’ll be tired of me by the end of this weekend I’m sure. Where’s your other half?”

She nodded towards the porch where Rhys stood, “he figured we needed our own moment. But he’s happy you came. We both are.”

“What’s the big announcement?”

“Oh no,” she watched as Cassian came around the car holding all his bag and mine, “that is a conversation I’m saving for dinner. Now introduce me to this mystery boyfriend you’ve been hiding from me for the last few months.”

Cassian gave her that charming smile, not the one crooked one he had been giving me. I watched as he held out his hand and something twisted inside my chest. Like he saved all that charm and sass for me. I shook my head, I was letting myself get carried away again. He was being the boyfriend, he was playing the part.

“You must be Feyre. I’ve heard so much about you,” he glanced at me as she took his hand and then pulled him in and hugged him tightly, “I see Nesta does not get her aversion to hugs from you.”

My sister laughed as she pulled back, “she doesn’t get anything from me or our mother for that matter. Nesta is her own brand of different. I’m so excited to meet you, no one has been able to settle Nesta since Tomas. And well,” she glanced at me and I felt my jaw tense, “I have to say you’re a big step up from the boy next door.”

Cassian’s brown eyes held mine. He noticed how stiff I went at the mention of my former boyfriend. I let out a breath and grabbed my bag, “let’s go inside.”

Rhys met us at the door, “hey trouble,” he greeted me as he took my bag and slung it over his shoulder, “Ferye is really glad you came. She hasn’t been this excited in a while. Not since you left.”

I offered him a small, forced, smile, “I know. I’ve missed her too, Rhys. I’m sorry if I hurt her. If you had to pick up any pieces I left behind.”

He shook his head, “no apology needed, Nesta. You have a life too and well I’ve got Feyre. I’ve always got Feyre.”

Cassian came up behind me and I could feel the warmth from his chest as he looked at my sister’s fiancée. Rhy’s bright blue purple eyes looked at the brute who towered over me, “Rhys this is my boyfriend,” the word stuck in my mouth, “Cassian. Cassian this is my sister’s future husband, Rhysand.”

“Everyone calls me Rhys,” he said as he shook Cassian’s hand. The males were staring at each other as if they were sizing the other up, “we’ve met before, haven’t we?”

Cassian’s hair had fallen out of the strap that had been holding it back. I watched as he looked at the dark haired male that had been in my life for as long as I could remember. It was always Ferye and Rhys, never anyone else. Well there had been Tamlin, but he was another story.

“I don’t think so. Anyways it’s nice to meet you. Is there somewhere I can set all these bags? They’re kind of heavy.”

Cassian grabbed my hand as if he had forgotten the part he was playing. Or he wanted Rhys to stop trying to figure out who he was, why he seemed to think he knew him. Either way it felt good to feel his callouses against my palm. It reminded me that for once my sister wasn’t going to spend the entire weekend asking me the same question she always did.

“Right this way,” Feyre said taking us up the stairs and walking us towards the bedroom at the end of the hallway. The old room I had always picked whenever we came up here. I smiled as she opened the door and then stepped aside so we could get through the doorway.

I stopped short of setting my bag down. I had forgotten that this was the room with the double bed. The smallest bed in the house, it sat in the middle of the very girly, very close room. I let out a slow breath and looked around. It still smelled the same, it took me back to all those nights ago.

I closed my eyes and pushed those memories away again. Cassian squeezed my fingers as he set his bags down and then my sister’s voice pulled me back into this moment. I had to find a way to live through this weekend without the memories taking me. Without the memories weighing me down.

"You two got here last so I um. Hope you don't mind the bed," Feyre blushed as she looked at our hands, "I'm sure you'll be fine thought right?"

Cassian smirked. He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. Feyre looked as shocked as I felt at the move, "this is fine. Nesta and I might not live together, but we've had plenty of sleepovers."

I smacked his shoulder, which they both thought was playful. But it wasn't and I saw him wince. I squeezed his arm and my sister smiled. It would’ve been weird if I didn’t hit him for touching me. But even though I did, he didn’t let me go. Again I saw the surprise cross my sister’s face.

She smiled, as if she was witnessing the proud moment of someone finally matching my fire. It was like she actually thought Cassian could be someone I would settle with. Someone who could be my version of her Rhys. And maybe, in another life where there wasn’t pain and ghosts haunting me, I might have believed that he could be too.

But this was my life and that was never going to happen.

"Well then you two get settled. Rhys is making dinner and I think Elain and Mor are outside. I'm so glad you came Nesta," Feyre hugged me again. It was awkward because Cassian wouldn't let me go, "we miss you."

I offered her a small smile as Cassian’s hands went to my hips, "yeah. I miss you guys too. We'll come down to help with dinner after we've gotten everything together."

My sister left and I pulled away from Cassian. I poked his chest, "you know the rules," I pushed harder, my finger imprinting on his skin, "keep the innuendos and your hands to yourself."

His eyes flashed, "we're a couple Nesta. Your sister thinks we sleep together. It has to look real right?"

I sighed, "you're insufferable."

He laughed and for a moment the anger dissolved. Because Cassian's laugh was deep and vibrant. It was beautiful and I never wanted it to stop. His laugh shook his entire body and I leaned towards him. It was the antidote to my pain, it was the sound I wanted to carry with me for the rest of my life. His laughter was bright and full of life.

I wanted to bottle it up and save it for a rainy day.

I pulled away when I realized I was still touching him. His brown eyes met mine and his laughter faded. The humor was replaced with something else. Something I hadn't seen even when we met at the diner.

"I'll break you," he whispered as we stood there, alone in our room. His hands were still on my hips and I shivered because his breath was so close to my neck.

"Oh yeah?" I asked as he pushed me against the wall. I smiled as his lips hovered near mine. Then when he thought he had gotten to me and his eyes fluttered closed, I brought my knee up between his legs. I watched the pain cross his face as my knee connected with his pride.

Cassian let out a grunt, pulling backwards as he all but fell over from my kick. I laughed as his face turned red and he held his hands against his crotch.

"Well sweetheart," his normally deep voice was strained, "I can see why no one has tried to settle you.”

I stepped over him, “I’m going to get a shower.”

I shut the bathroom door, thankfully we had gotten the small room, but the bathroom was connected to it. We didn’t have to share with the others. I let out a breath and looked at myself in the mirror. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get through this weekend without falling apart.

I got a quick shower, the warm water felt wonderful against my skin. After being stuck in a car for over four hours I felt disgusting. I rolled my shoulders and washed my hair, singing along to the radio that was playing. Once I was done I dried myself off and then changed into fresh clothes. It felt good to be out of that car.

I squeezed the water out of my hair, watching in the mirror as the curls came back to life. Then I wrapped the towel around my hair and sat it on top of my head. I dried off my face and then decided I had avoided Cassian for long enough.

Steam billowed out into the bedroom when I opened the door. Cassian looked up and his eyes went wide. Slowly a smile appeared on his face as his eyes went up and then down my body. His eyes were bright with amusement when they landed on mine again. I let out a huff, wondering what in the world he found so interesting about me now.

“What?” I asked throwing my dirty clothes in a pile beside my duffel bag. I’d figure out a system for them later.

He shook his head, “nothing,” he answered, his eyes still bright as he rubbed his hand over his knee as if his manhood was still in pain. Good let him remember exactly how much pain I could inflict upon him and little Cassian. Maybe then he’d stop being such an arrogant ass. I smirked, watching him shift as if he was trying to get more comfortable.

“You should get a shower before all the hot water is used. Plus Feyre and Rhys will not be happy if we are late to dinner. It’s like his favorite thing, having everyone at the table to eat.”

Cassian stood up as I unwrapped my hair. It fell down to my shoulders and I didn’t see him as he reached up and grabbed a strand. I yelped as he pulled it and I spun around, slapping his arm.

“Hey!”
 He had that half smile, the one that was making me soft on his face, “your hair. It’s curly.”

I rolled my eyes, he was like a child seeing Santa for the first time as he kept staring at the wild curls that sat on my head. I couldn’t help but laugh myself, “yes. I straightened it the other day. It’s usually like this.”

He just stood there staring at me like we had never met before. He watched as i took my fingers and scrunched the hair to make the curls bounce. In another time, if I was still the girl I was before, I would’ve found him cute. Watching me in awe as he realized my hair wasn’t straight and that he was seeing my natural state for the first time. But it wasn’t cute, because we weren’t actually together. I clenched my hand in a fist and reminded myself once again that Cassian wasn’t supposed to mean anything to me.

“I like it,” he breathed as I put some products in to tame the frizz that it usually turned into here in the heat, “it’s wild. Like you.”

I blushed, letting out a startled laugh. I wanted to say thank you, I should’ve let it go. But I wasn’t that girl and I was hard and this was getting to be too much. I brought my eyes up in the mirror and looked at Cassian.

“Okay, you’re laying it on a little thick, I told you only put on a show when others are around. It’s just you and me, you don’t have to act like we’re actually a couple right now.”

Cassian dropped my hair and stepped back, his face falling. I knew I had hit a mark, I thought I had been intending to hurt him. I wanted to keep reminding him until he knew that this wasn’t real. But watching the amusement die from his beautiful brown eyes, his face falling from that mischievous smile to the look he was giving me now, it hurt. And I hated knowing I was the reason it had happened.

“Well I thought we were at least friends,” his deep voice was soft. He sounded like he was trying to keep the hurt out of his voice.

I shrugged, “right now you’re just my employee. Remember I’m paying you to be here.”

He nodded, his shoulders tight, his hands balled up in fists beside him, “got it. Thanks for the oh so gentle reminder, Nesta. I’m just something to look good on your arm.”

He went into the bathroom before I could even consider feeling guilty. I looked at my reflection and I realized how awful I was. Maybe this was the reason I was single. Because I was cold and had closed myself off after Tomas forced me into the middle of a game I didn’t want to play.

I should’ve apologized, but I knew that if I could at least find a way to apologize to my sisters first, then maybe I could find the girl who was worthy of even looking at someone like Cassian. Maybe I could find the girl I had been once before, after I told Feyre and Elain the truth.

I finished getting ready as Cassian sang loudly in the shower. I pulled my shoes on as the water shut off and I sat down on the bed. I let out a slow breath, thinking of ways I could apologize to Cassian. It was true we weren’t actually friends. But that didn’t mean I could treat him like nothing more than scum on the bottom of my shoe.

When Cassian came out I looked up, his hair was dripping on his shoulders and his chest was bare. I couldn’t help but stare for a moment, until he grabbed a shirt and put it on. Of course he looked good, he owned a gym and trained people in kick boxing. He was made of muscle, and for a moment the room lost all air.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?”

I blushed, “no. Look I’m sorry Cassian,” I stood up and forced myself to look into his eyes, “I mean, we aren’t friends. At least not yet. But I shouldn’t have been so rude. Sometimes I speak before I realize what I’m saying and it comes out as cold and callous. I’m sorry, okay?”

He threw his dirty clothes down and looked at me. His lips twitched as if he was fighting a smile. He sighed, “you don’t strike me as someone who apologizes a lot. Should I be flattered?”

I rolled my eyes, “sure, but I think you’re better at flattering yourself, sweetheart.”

He laughed, a short sound that still made my heart flutter, “it’s fine Nesta. I understand that we really don’t know each other. I’m helping you and in a way you’re helping me. But if I play the part when no one is around, then I’ll play it even better when they are okay?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat as he stepped towards me, “I guess that makes sense. Just. I don’t know, don’t be so corny. Seriously I would never date someone as full of themselves as you.”

He laughed again, “oh Nesta. You’d be surprised how many girls have fallen for my charm.”

“And yet here I stand. Still not falling for any of it.”

He smiled as he took another step towards me. I didn’t realize he was so close until his fingers brushed under my chin and he forced my eyes up to meet his. That crooked smile was back, I was starting to think he saved it for me. Which was crazy, because we had just established that we didn’t know each other.

“I see you Nesta Acheron. I don’t think anyone else does, but I do.”

My mouth went dry and his eyes bore into mine. It was like he was staring straight into my soul, like he was seeing every single piece of me that I never wanted to show anyone. I shivered, his eyes landing on my lips for a spilt second before his hand dropped back down to his side.

The room was filled with tension, or something I couldn’t quiet understand. I turned away from him and looked out the window. I forced myself to forget the feeling of his skin against mine, or the way he had looked at me.

“I’ll find some more blankets for you after dinner.”

Cassian nodded but didn’t smile this time. The light was gone from his eyes, from his face. I didn’t like knowing that he was still wounded from what I had said. Which was something I had never felt before. I had never been remorseful whenever I hurt someone. Usually it felt good to make them feel the way I always did. But this was new, and I wanted it to stop. This man, this brute of a man was trying to turn me into someone I wasn’t sure I was ready to be.

“So,” I asked killing time before we had to go down to the firing squad. I mostly wasn’t ready to see Elain yet, “why don’t you have a girlfriend? I mean. You clearly see why I don’t.”

He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter, “I love the gym too much. I spend all my time there and it never sits well with whoever I’m seeing. Some people seem to think I’m too soft,” his eyes met mine, “but I mean. If and when I find the right girl, it’ll just stick. It’ll just work.”

I offered him a small smile, a real smile, “I like that. And trust me Cassian, there’s nothing wrong with being soft. Sometimes the hard edges, they keep me safe, but what they forget to tell you is that they keep anyone from getting in too.”

A small smile tugged at his lips, “who knows. Maybe I’ll rub off on you this weekend.”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

We smiled at each other, coming to some sort of awkward agreement. The room fell quiet until my sister opened the door. Feyre smiled as she watched Cassian tap my chin. It was a cute moment for her to find us in, one that would be normal between any other couple.

And yet my cheeks burned as she cleared her throat, “yay, you guys are dressed. Dinner is ready! Let’s go.”

Cassian walked behind me as we followed Feyre out into the hallway. I could smell dinner from here and my stomach grumbled, I was starving. We had eaten breakfast so long ago now. I felt Cassian’s warmth behind me as Feyre went down first. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and then turned to look up at me.

"Oh Nesta guess who I invited for dinner!" Feyre sounded extra cheerful, as if I had a friend I had forgotten about.

I stopped on the steps, staring down at my sister, ready to ask who, but when the door opened the air rushed out of my lungs. My heart stopped and time seemed to freeze in that moment. Cassian's eyes stayed on me as I tried to stop the bile that rose in my throat.

My entire body was in panic mode. Because standing there at the bottom of the stairs was the last person I had ever wanted to see, wearing the same sick smile he had branded me with that night almost two years ago.

Cassian reached for my hand as Tomas tipped his head, "welcome home, Nesta.”

#nesta #nesta x cassian #cassian #nessian #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acomaf fanfiction #AU fanfiction #shape of you

[shadow-wasser]

WIP Fic Whenever: Atlamorphs 10

Might as well start doing this again. WIP Fic Friday Whenever is a place where I will put a ‘quick and dirty’ first draft of either a short story or a chapter from a longer story. This will hopefully encourage me to improve my writing output. An Animorphs/Avatar: the Last Airbender Crossover. Yes it’s strange.

Love For The Daughter

I seethed inwardly as Avatar Twinkletoes began to hint at my earthbending career. I was seriously considering bending him into the floor when, out of nowhere, the boy Sokka, who had been eating like a cowpig, suddenly collapsed into his soup.

Everyone paused to stare, and the girl, Katara, stood up, her pulse racing. “Sokka!” She was beside him instantly, running her hands over him.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” my father lied. “Perhaps he is tired after your long journey?”

“No,” said Katara. “He’s not fine. There’s something weird in his system.”

“Stomach ache?” said the boy Aksi, who I suspected wasn’t all there in the head. He opened his mouth wide in a yawn, then faceplanted.

That was when everyone began shouting.

“He’s fine! We’ll call for the physicians-”

“Aski! Wake up!”

“Will everyone be quiet? I’m trying to heal!”

“Well, this is unexpected,” said my mother, but she was lying too.

I frowned. This was weird. Dad was lying, which meant that he knew Sokka wasn’t fine. Which meant he’d known it would happen. Which meant he’d done it. Well, I wasn’t worried. The boy wasn’t dead. I could feel his pulse and deep breathing. He was just asleep.

“Won’t everyone just calm down? I’m sure everything will be fine!”

“No! My brother and cousin are unconscious!”

I quirked my brow. That was a lie. He wasn’t her cousin. What was he?

The guards rushed in, hearing the commotion, and walked up to Aang and Katara. “Please calm down,” one said.

“Why? What did you do?” Katara was quickly becoming hysterical.

The Avatar was facing my father. “What did you do?” he echoed.

Then, the guard reached out and touched Aang, a small, almost undetectable piece of metal in his hand. The Avatar gasped, then his pulse slowed, and he collapsed.

“Y-you!” started Katara, and her hand reached towards the table. Then the guard touched her too, and she fell.

I pressed my feet onto the floor, not believing what I was feeling. There were four prone, unconscious bodies lying around the dinner table. It was surreal.

“Dad?” I asked finally. “What just happened?”

“I’m sorry you had to be here for that, Toph,” he said. “But the Avatar is too dangerous. He is a threat to us, to our family.” He straightened. “Guards, please escort Toph to her room.”

As I allowed the guards to lead me out, I tried to process what had just happened. My father had just attacked the Avatar. And won. Well, it wasn’t like it was a fair fight, but… why?

As soon as the guards had left me in my room, I buried my feet into the floors of the manor, feeling out what was going on. The Avatar and his friends were being carried down into the cellar, being tied up. Something was really weird. Was my father going to sell them out to the Fire Nation? I hadn’t thought he was like that… but who knew, anymore? He lied about everything, he could easily be keeping secrets.

Well, I’d had enough. I was going to find out what was going on.

I walked over to the corner of my room, behind my bed. There, clear as anything, was a portion of the floor that had been cracked and reformed so many times that stress fractures were etched deep into the stone.

I stomped, breaking it open and revealing my personal tunnel network. From here I could go anywhere in Gaoling, from the outskirts where the badgermoles lived to the bending arena. I jumped in, sealed the top, and skated through the tunnels until I was underneath my parents’ room. I pressed my ear to the ceiling of the tunnel, and waited.

Eventually, my parents walked in. “We need to notify Visser Three,” said my mother.

Visser Three? What in the world did that mean?

“Yes, and make sure they do not escape this time,” agreed my father. “We must be vigilant. It is possible that some Andalites have survived the crash, and are giving the Avatar their aid.”

“Andalites!” spat my mother, with more venom than I thought was possible for her. “How is it possible?”

“Nepthil one-three-two tells me that the Avatar had help from an unknown source in Chin Town. An Andalite may have been masquerading as Visser Three to free him. And pieces of Andalite metal were found in Kyoshi.”

I frowned. What were they talking about? Was this some kind of code?

“Ugh! I hate those Andalite scum!”

“As do we all,” growled my father. “But I shall call the Visser.”

My father walked over to his drawer, and withdrew a complex metal device that had been inside. I had no idea what it was.

For a few moments, there was nothing as my father fiddled with the device, then a voice said, out of nowhere: “Gresh nevelet huvvel Visser Three?”

Yes, I know that’s nonsense. But that’s what it said. And when I say it came out of nowhere, I mean it. There was no one else in the room, yet there was a voice. It was unnerving.

“Escref one-four-six reporting,” said my father. “We have important news for the Visser.”

“Dargif tithrel?”

“We have captured the Avatar.”

There was another pause. And then, a fourth voice came, also out of nowhere.

“Escref one-four-six. This had better be worth my time!”

I guessed that this voice was that of the mysterious Visser Three. And let me tell you, it wasn’t a nice voice. I can tell. He sounded like he stomped on kittens for fun, and ate babies for breakfast. Seriously.

“Visser," my father said quietly and humbly. Which was weird, since ‘humble’ wasn’t a tone my father often took. “Escref one-four-six of the Ibith Markep pool submits to you. May the Kandrona shine and strengthen you."

“Get on with it.”

“We have successfully captured the Avatar. We hold him hostage and unconscious at this very moment, and await your instructions.”

“Excellent. Infest him immediately with any Yeerk you have; we can use a more important individual later.”

“Yes, Visser.”

“I will be arriving shortly.”

“Yes, Visser.”

There was a pause, and my father again fiddled with the metal device. Then he turned to face my mother.

“We have another problem.”

“What is it?” asked my mother.

“Toph. She saw what we did. She may suspect.”

I frowned. What might I suspect? Suspect that they were working for some weirdo named Visser Three? Who was he, anyway? How did he speak without being there?

“What should we do? We cannot infest her. It is a part of the agreement.”

My father paused. “We cannot. The thought angers my host greatly. And she is blind. Useless as a host. But she can still speak, and warn the humans. We may need to kill her.”

Kill her.

Kill her.

I felt like my blood had turned to ice. I couldn’t have heard what I thought I'd just heard, could I? My parents weren’t going to kill me. No, they-

“True. No one outside the household knows she exists. She will not be missed. We shall kill her.”

Oh, crap.

I was frozen in place. I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I was trapped in some awful nightmare.

Then, something in my father’s vibrations changed. He began to twitch like he had been drinking too much chi-enhancing tea, or like he was mentally ill. His hands were trembling, and his face contorting.

“Agh!” he said. “My host is- is fighting me!”

“He is?” My mother leaned forward, then her head abruptly snapped back. She cried out. “Mine too! Ah!”

“No, Lao!” snarled my father. “No! You will not win. You will never win. No host has ever fought off a Yeerk. I- will- win! I-will- break you!”

My parents had gone mad. This was the only explanation. They were talking to themselves, gasping and jerking, stumbling. I felt sick, but I couldn’t stop listening.

“Poppy, I will destroy you,” said my mother. “You will be nothing! You- ack!”

Now my mother was strangling herself, her own hand around her throat.

But it didn’t last long. In less than a minute, they had regained control of themselves, their shaking had ceased, and they were standing straight, breathing heavily. Without another word, they both left the room.

I sunk to the ground, feeling tears run down my cheeks. My parents were crazy. They wanted to kill me. What could I do? Where could I go? My tunnels could take me away. Far, far away from Gaoling. But after that, where?

I only really saw one option.

--------------------

“Hey! Twinkletoes! Wake up! Up! Rise and shine, weenie!”

I kicked the Avatar, and he didn’t react. Oh come on! What had my dad drugged them with, anyhow?

Fine. We’d have to do this the hard way. My parents were coming.

I ripped up the floor beneath the unconscious teens, and they fell down into my tunnel. I quickly resealed the hole above us, and began the process of pushing the ground beneath them to get them out of the house.

I stopped in my room only after making sure it was empty of guards or parents, and only long enough to grab my earthbending uniform. I then slowly made my way towards the outskirts of town, where the badgermoles lived.

I would be safe there.

-----------------------

“Ugggghhhhhnnnnn.”

I sighed and reclined against a rock. It was about time! Too bad the first one to wake up was the idiot.

“Welcome to the waking world, Crazypants.”

“It is night time!” Was it just me, or did he sound a bit panicked?

“Uh. Yeah. You were out for a while there.”

“For how long?” Yeah, definitely panicked. His heart was going crazy.

“I dunno. Half an hour, forty-five minutes, maybe?”

“I have very little time left. Do not be alarmed.”

“Alarmed at what? Wait- whoa! Whoa whoa whoa what the-”

Right there, in front of me, he was changing. His bones were shifting around, his weight and density were changing. Extra legs were coming out of nowhere and- oh by the ghost of my long dead grampa, a tail!

My mouth hung open. I had no idea what it was. This was something completely new.

(Thank you for saving me.)

Now there were voices in my head. Obviously, my parents’ crazy was contagious.

“Okay,” I said. “Okay. What are you?”

(I am an Andalite.)

Andalite. There was that word my parents had used. They hadn’t liked Andalites.

Then, the other boy, Sokka the cowpig, started to stir. “Ooooooof. Oh boy. What was in that soup?”

The ‘Andalite’ walked over to Sokka and knelt down, touching his shoulder.

“Oooh yeah. No kidding, Aksi.” After a several-second pause, the prone boy sat up and turned his face towards me. “Uh, Aximili? Toph is right there.”

There was another pause, and Sokka turned his face towards the 'Andalite,' as though it was talking.

“Um, well, she’s blind, Aksi. She wouldn’t know if you were-”

“I can see you just fine,” I grated, getting seriously annoyed. “And I can also hear you, if you don’t mind.”

“You can see…?”

(Are you truly blind?) the voice of the Andalite asked in my head. It sounded... oddly strained. Disgusted? (By birth?)

“Yeah, what of it? Were you a four legged mind-talking freak by birth?”

“Aximili is… um… from somewhere else.”

“Yeah.” I raised an eyebrow and snorted. “Right.”

We were interrupted then by Aang and Katara waking up.

“Ooooooogh.”

“Aaaaaaaaaagh.”

Cowpig boy helped them to their feet, and they turned to face me. “Um, Toph, where are we?” asked Katara.

I shrugged. “Just on the outskirts of town. No one else knows we’re here.” I paused. Did I really want to go with them? They had a… thing… with them. But it was better than my other option, right? “So, my parents are insane, and want to kill me. I’m going to come with you instead, if that’s alright.”

It was their turn to pause. “They want to kill you?” asked Aang.

“Yeah. They’re totally crazy. But they knew about you,” I pointed at ‘Aksi.’ “They were talking to some weird voice without a body called Visser Three, and then they decided to kill me. They really need a healer.”

The three teens and one Andalite were very still. “Toph,” said Katara quietly. “I think there’s something important you need to know.”

They told me then, about the Yeerks, and the Andalites, and everything. As they explained, a better sequence of the evening’s events came to me. My parents… they had tried to protect me, had tried to keep the Yeerks from infesting or killing me. They’d tried to fight off the Yeerk possession. But they’d failed.

They didn’t want to kill me. They loved me.

My hands clenched into fists, and I grit my teeth. All this time - probably ever since Master Yu’s lessons had stopped - my parents had been controllers.

It made me angry. Really angry.

“We have a lot of enemies, Toph,” Katara was still saying. “The Fire Nation, the Yeerks… they’re everywhere. Almost everywhere we meet one or the other. But we do need an earthbending teacher, and Aang thinks you’re the one. It’s really your choice. We don’t want to force you.”

“I’ll do it.”

I heard Aang gasp, and I lifted my face, so they could see my expression. “I mean it. I’ll help you learn earthbending, and when we find those Yeerks, I want to help you kill them.”

(You are brave… for a vecol.) The voice in my head that time held… what? Curiosity?

I raised my eyebrow. “Vecol? What’s that?”

(A cripple. One who cannot heal themselves by morphing.) There, disgust, mixed with an arrogance that would make any noble take note.

I didn’t like that tone. “Cripple, huh? Well, I guess I am just a poor, helpless blind girl. Can’t take care of myself, can’t help anyone, just a dead weight, right Aksi?”

I let myself smile sweetly, then dug my foot into the ground, twisting the earth under Aksi’s front hooves to the side and sending him to the floor.

“And I can kick your freaky butt any day of the week. ‘K?”

I turned to face the others. “So, how about this ‘morphing’ thing, huh?”

--------------------

It wasn’t that hard. I opened up the mountain and walked through tunnels large enough to hold the entire Bei Fong manor. I sent down a pulse, a call, a ‘hello.’ Badgermoles are curious about new things in their tunnels. They would come.

And when the old female came over to get a good smell of me, I acquired her.

------------------

(This. Is. Awesome.)

My roar was the scream of a demon. My legs were pillars. My claws, lances. My head, a battering ram. I stomped, and rent the earth apart.

(Ohhhhhhhhh yeah!)

-------------------

“I really don’t see the point of this. Why would I need to fly?”

I stroked Momo, who was being very quiet.

“It’s fun!” said Aang. “Flying is so fun!”

Uh, no. Flying on Appa was not fun, and I doubted flying with wings would be much better.

“It’s useful,” said Sokka. “Being small and less noticeable.”

“Fine, whatever.” I let Momo go, and he scampered off.

(It would be wise to prepare yourself. You may experience sensory input that you are not accustomed to.)

“Okay, Aksi. I think I can handle it.”

I stood up, stretched, and concentrated.

For a moment, nothing. Then, I felt my clothes get loose and big around me as I shrunk. I heard cracks as my bones changed, and my ears itched as they expanded. I rolled my tongue around the inside of my mouth, feeling the teeth change and the muzzle form. It was weird, yet cool.

I listened to Katara shifing from foot to foot nervously. What was she worried about? This wasn’t so bad.

I felt a bit more concerned when my earth-sight disappeared. That hadn’t happened when I’d morphed the badgermole. It was unnerving. I felt really, really blind, like I do in those few seconds when I jump into the air. I didn’t like it. How could I see?

Then-

(Ah!)

It was- how could I describe it? It was sharp, and hot, and harsh, and yet none of those things. It was an invasion, a burst, an explosion of sensation. It was motion and depth and form, and a million other things besides. It was overwhelming.

My eyelids flinched shut, and it disappeared. Gone.

Oh, man. Was that sight? No way was that sight. Were people all in a fuss over that… that chaos? How could you make sense of that?

“Toph?” someone- Aang- was saying. “Are you all right?”

(How do you do it?) I wondered. (It’s too much!)

“Do what?” wondered Katara. Spirits, they can be oblivious sometimes.

(Handle all the- the sharp in your eyes?)

“Sharp in your-”

(She is seeing,) said Aksi. (And, as a vecol, she has never seen before. Experiencing a new sense can be overwhelming.)

“Like you with taste?” asked Twinkletoes.

(Yes, like that.) He sounded uncomfortable.

I took a deep breath, as well as I could with my tiny lemur nose. All right. Let’s do this.

I opened my eyes.

------------------------

I had to learn these things. They made no sense to me, and while Momo could react to them, he had no words to describe them.

Blue. The quality of Aang’s arrow, the sky, and Aksi’s fur.

Green. The quality of the grass, the leaves of the trees.

Red. The quality of blood, and fire.

Yellow. Aang’s robes.

White. The clouds, and Appa’s fur.

Brown. The earth

I closed my lemur eyes, and saw Black.

#wip fic #aximili #aang #katara #sokka #toph #gaoling #avatar the last airbender #animorphs #crossover #fanfiction #fanfic extra #my fic #yeerks

[fashiontrendin-blog]

Paris Fashion Week Is a Real Slog When You’re As Important As I Am

http://fashion-trendin.com/paris-fashion-week-is-a-real-slog-when-youre-as-important-as-i-am/

Paris Fashion Week Is a Real Slog When You’re As Important As I Am

I have been to several Paris Fashion Weeks and have reported on my experience as a novice. Now, as a seasoned veteran, I worry the viewfinder I held aloft was rose-colored, indeed. What was once a mythical fairyland of swirling scarves, perfectly puffed pastries and glitzy dinner parties twinkling on past midnight has withered to a nightmarish hellscape: desperate vendors cramming their shoes onto my feet, upstart bloggers screaming for me, paparazzi flashbulbs scarring my pupils.

In the midst of such a cacophony, I find myself wondering: When in my meteoric rise to the dizzying heights of the fashion world will the sun finally burn too hot? I long for the day I may lose my feathers like Icarus, free-fall back to Earth and walk down the street with a beret and baguette unbothered.

As I prepare to leave for the airport, I notice my puffy coat is leaking little tufted feathers out of a hole near my wrist. Recognizing the heavy-handed symbolism, I become terrified and apply a dollop of Gorilla Glue to the hole, effectively stopping the insulation exodus.

Wednesday, February 28th

Shortly after arriving in Paris, my stylist a.k.a. girlfriend a.k.a. editor-in-chief of InStyle asks about the bird shit on my arm. I patiently explain the tear, the leak, the solution. She sends me off to get a new coat.

A breezy expenditure of $80 at Uniqlo will get you this gender-neutral, puffy hooded coat that offers a pleasing assortment of pockets.

For sustenance, I order poulet paillard, which is French for “chicken that looks like a chicken.”

This poor hen stepped sideways into the path of a guillotine. Haughty, but delicious. Afterward, I can feel my grip on reality slipping, so I take a nap and wake up just in time for dinner, which I eat and then go back to bed.

Thursday, March 1st

I am no longer 26 years old and my body does not spring forward into new time zones as spryly as it once did. I wake up at 1 p.m., just in time to bathe and head off to see the Dries Van Noten collection. After being jostled through security and beginning to wonder if maybe I should just go drink a bottle of wine on a Seine tourist cruise, my spirits lift considerably upon finding a familiar face:

Harper’s Bazaar’s Glenda Bailey, a fearless woman who makes her own way and makes me feel like I can too.

Then the lights go up, the chatter dies down and for seven minutes I forget myself and remember why I do what I do. You need only do a minor amount of research to find professional runway photographs of these looks, but what those images fail to capture — and what mine communicate brilliantly — is how little time one has to look at each outfit as the models march by. I’ve highlighted a few of my favorites:

The solid color of the below-left top matches the hue of the detail on the skirt, mirroring the layered duality of the mind-body relationship.

Note how the fabric does not cling tightly but dangles and dances with a motion of its own — suggesting that our own identities are not hewn from stone and shackled to our shoulders but hover all around, knowable only for a moment before shifting once more.

The above-right one looks like Morpheus from The Matrix. Because we’re probably living in a simulation.

I liked this below-left one because of the soft colors…

…and because the model demonstrates why this accessory is called a clutch.

The feathered boa above-right offers one possibility for how the dinosaurs actually looked. I always had a hunch the stegosaurus was a flashy bugger, not that drab, gray-brown galumph my textbooks force-fed me.

Technically, this is a bag.

But it would be more accurate to call it a sack. No Wookiees were harmed in the making of this sack.

Bravo, Dries! Glenda and I bid a fond farewell to each other after I tell her “I liked the feathery bits,” then I head to an appointment with Aquazzura.

The brilliant minds there had these boots made for me, but I know I have no spare room in my suitcase and that they’d render me clumsy in the TSA line, so I have to say, “Thanks, but no thanks.”

In hindsight, I guess I could have chucked a pair of sweatpants to make room. Oh well.

I wind up ordering poulet paillard again for a late lunch (too tired to make a new decision) and, whether or not you think the man is an effective President, you cannot deny:

Garçon, there’s a hairpiece on my food.

Friday, March 2nd

The next day, I take a break from the shows to peruse the Louvre. I greatly enjoy — nay, require as though ‘tis oxygen — being amongst the art. While I wander its labyrinthine halls, the throngs of tourists fade to static and I feel like I am actively communing with some of the great minds humankind has produced throughout the ages. I listen to what they have to say, then use my smartphone to capture the old masters’ stories as they resonate today.

Expending this level of psychic energy is uniquely exhausting, and when I’m at my weakest, I always crave the same thing: a burger. When I sit down at a restaurant and find that the beef tartare, which is far fancier than a burger, is the same price, I order that instead:

I do not know who the pervert in the kitchen is or why he or she interrupted the sacred ritual of a caperberry attempting to fertilize a hen egg. Later, I realize the only difference between beef tartare and a burger is that tartare is not cooked, so truthfully it should have been cheaper than the burger. I make a note to send a letter requesting a partial refund.

Saturday, March 3rd

Back on the fashion grind: I have an appointment with Aurélie Bidermann, who of course wants to adorn me with her wares. I turn down the gifts, as I confess I do not enjoy possessing jewelry. I find its value far too tempting to thieving rascals and terrifyingly concentrated relative to its size (and, therefore, lose-ability). All possessions are of course burdensome and the nature of “possession” illusory in itself, but jewelry crystallizes this notion. For me, looking is enough.

First of all: How much better is the French version of the word “jewelry”?

It makes the Anglo “jewelry” look like it means “toe fungus.”

And look at this ruby- and emerald-inlaid shell pendant.

I’m only sharing this one picture because most of the ones I took were inadequate/marred by glare. But I believe Aurélie’s joaillerie should be strapped to a rocket and launched into orbit so that in the event of humanity’s self-immolation, it will survive, and when aliens discover our planet, they will first discover these items orbiting above our charred and grown-over remains and they will know that there was beauty here.

Next, I go to the Altuzarra show, which is taking place in the celebrated Parisian restaurant La Coupole and is uniquely visible to the curious public assembled out on the street.

My photography once again captures how quickly the models pass by and how little time I had to form an opinion about each outfit, even though my expert mind of course generates such opinions at lightning speed.

Look at how the evening gown below swishes to and fro as the model makes her turn. This one left a lasting impression on the judges for sure.

Another one is purple and has a slit, which exposes the leg.

The shoes are also purple. I liked the earrings, which you can’t really see clearly, but they looked like a bit like that viral video from a while back of a guy using molten metal to make a mold of an ant colony.

After, I feel spent and also a bit ill, so I lay low for the rest of the day in preparation for my big fashion finale: Valentino.

Sunday, March 4th

I don’t want to risk fainting during the show, so I make sure to eat a balanced breakfast.

(I stood on the bed in my underpants to take this and almost fell on top of the table. Honestly, the things I risk for you guys.)

Valentino has built a structure near L’Hôtel des Invalides specifically for the show. When Anna Wintour sees me, she rushes over and gives me a huge hug and we gossip for a bit, but unfortunately we don’t take a picture together as we normally do. I snapped the one above a bit later just to give you a taste.

Can’t wait for our tennis date, Anna!

This row of girls across from me keeps looking over at me, giggling and pointing and blushing. Sorry, ladies, this is a business trip.

But seriously, there was an actual humming sound coming from their collective social media following.

Then the show started. Below are some of my favorites, but really the collection as a whole was my favorite.

…as Karlie looks on, poised as ever.

The above-right one is just layered so beautifully.

The man in front of me was involved in planning the show and got very upset when somebody nearby leaned out to take pictures. Not me, somebody else.

The human peony:

The green one is good luck should you find it while prancing through a field of clover.

This show transported me and reawakened in me a hope — a hope that we are all beings awaiting some form of pollination, capable of transformation, of one day entering a mode of existence beyond our current understanding.

I try to make a surreptitious exit but once again the photographers call for me to stop and pose. The ladies below leapt in front in a somewhat embarrassing attempt to get themselves plastered on Getty Images. NICE TRY, DESPERADOS.

Afterward, my favorite thing: breakfast for lunch.

Café Saint-Régis, you have my heart.

Au revoir, Paris! Thank you for rekindling my passion for fashion.

Photos via Brandon Borror-Chappell.

[freshlyjuicedbeetles]

OCD:IRL

COWETA, Okla. -When I was 17, I was diagnosed with obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD), clinical depression and generalized anxiety disorder; post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) would be added later. If it’s at all possible, I would say I was born with anxiety. I was always the scared child. I didn’t like being without my mom and didn’t like changes in my routine. I had the same breakfast and after school meal for twelve years. I was constantly afraid that I would be left at school one day.

Mental illness runs deep in my family. While I can only speculate about others, my maternal grandmother was diagnosed with clinical depression and was prescribed one of the first legitimate antidepressants.

I am mentally ill. I am not crazy or a menace to society. I’m a functioning member of society. I work, I vote, I have a degree. I have no desire to hurt myself or someone else. The craziest thing you’ll probably see me do is squeeze myself into a cabinet to properly clean the inside.

This is a day in the life with my diagnoses at my most stable and fully functioning. I’ve had worse periods in my life. Bear in mind, everyone’s symptoms are different.

I wake up after a night of broken sleep. This can be as early as 5: 00 A.M. or as late 4:30 P.M. in the afternoon. My sleep schedule is always different. I have been a night owl for as long as I can remember. I remember the first time I stayed up all night was in kindergarten and I’ve had circles under my eyes ever since. Even in preschool, I was up late as my parents slept away, watching TV and raiding the pantry. In school, I would go to bed at midnight, sometimes pushing it to 1:00 A.M. in high school. In college, I would sometimes go to class without sleep due to self-induced insomnia. I love my naps and they only set me up for a sleepless night. Sleep plays a big part in these illnesses. Lack of sleep can negatively affect moods which only exacerbates the symptoms.

After I eat my breakfast (or lunch or dinner, whatever meal is being served when I wake up), I take my medication. I take a serotonin reuptake inhibitor. It replaces the chemicals in my brain that it doesn’t make on its own. Medication has treated me well. It takes away a lot of my symptoms with very little side effects. It runs like a background program in my computer brain. Still, I have symptoms that I can largely ignore and use logic against.

My brain cycles through worry about my family. Is my stepdad depressed? Is he angry? Did I happen to do something wrong? Is my mom okay? I want her to be happy. Is she depressed? I need to call my grandpa. I need to go see him. I live within walking distance of him, but I fear and hate the silences in conversation. I feel like a bad granddaughter when conversation laps as though I don’t love him. What was that noise from the living room? What ungodly mess are my pets making on the brand-new carpet?

Because of my anxiety of failure and drive to be perfect, I apologize as though it will erase my mistakes from existence. I claim the mistakes of my loved ones as my own as though they were cash prizes. I’d rather be inconvenienced than someone else be.

Two comorbidities of my diagnoses are misophonia and dermatillomania. Misophonia is a hatred of sound. You know those ASMR videos that calm some people down? They make me want to punch a brick wall. Misophonia makes me inexplicably angry at noises; the sound of stepdad coughing, tongue clicking my mom makes when she’s thinking, chewing noises. I could go on.

I pick at my skin like I’m trying to create escape routes from my body. For me, dermatillomania, which is characterized by the repeated urge to pick at one's own skin, often to the extent that damage is caused, is about texture. I like the feel of broken skin. I’ve never noticed any anxiety or self-destruction correlations with this, only out of boredom, routine or desire to feel the texture. I remember when I was in middle school and I fell off my bike. I tore up my knee and it required regular cleaning. After school the day after, my grandma was changing my bandage and cleaning my wound. She left a glob of Neosporin on my calf that I noticed later. I kept myself from picking it off throughout grocery shopping with my mom so it would harden. I picked it off as she wasreturning the cart.

Texture has always been a part of my world. I refused to wear anything with tight sleeves as a child. Today, I’m nervous about trying on jeans because they might be tight. I either love or hate certain foods because of their texture.

I have been able to turn these illnesses into strengths. Through my OCD and anxiety, I have saved my own and many other gluteus maximums with my contingency plans. I was the girl with plenty of bobby pins at graduation. Through my depression, I have been able to write the most honest and powerful stories.

However, there are websites like Tumblr romanticize mental illness, especially the ones I have. It’s seen as quirky.

“Oh how cute! She eats her Fruit Loops in rainbow order!”

When in real life, people eat their Fruit Loops that way or else they think something bad will happen.

The people who want a mental illness, are people who don’t have one. It boggles my addled mind, but maybe they think they can profit off of it. They could garner sympathy or have things done for them. Remember James Frey? He profited off his supposed mental illness of drug addiction only for his readers to find out it was heavily fictionalized.

I have an incredible and supportive family who will do anything for me, but I’ve still heard well-meant but ignorant comments from them, mostly due to generational differences- say what you will about my generation, we don’t suffer in silence. Regardless of their support, anxiety based mental illnesses are manipulative S.O.Bs. Because of mine, I wonder if all my family sees me as is an annoying hypochondriac who won’t leave them alone.

Here’s a list of things that have been said to me and a few of my friends with mental illness, what you’re really saying, and what to say instead.

“It’s all in your head!”

Just like asthma is just in your lungs.

We know we’re being illogical. By saying this, you’re diminishing the severity of mental illnesses and brushing it off. These are serious health conditions.

Instead say, “I’ll try to understand.”

“Just be happy!”

Stop growing tumors.

It’s a chemical imbalance. That’s like saying to change the chemical composition of soap just by thinking about it.

Instead say, “It’s okay to feel this way.”

“You have nothing to worry about or be sad for!”

We know. You’re not helping. We may have a nice life, but the illness is still there. It’s a bit like dust in your house. It’s just there. Once again, we know we’re being illogical.

Instead, try to be sympathetic.

“Other people have it worse off than you.”

We know and you’re not helping. You may have cut yourself off from being a safe space for that person in a time of need. They may never open up to you again. It makes us feel guilty and ashamed for having an illness that we have no control over. Also, you’re furthering the stigma of mental illness.

Instead say, “I know you’re going through a tough time.”

“Have you tried…. (yoga, meditation, teas)”

No amount of homeopathy will cure a mental illness. It may help to a degree but you don’t fight illnesses of any kind with just herbs and realigning your chakra. You need to see a doctor.

Instead, ask them how their current treatment plan is going.

“You’re just being lazy!”

It’s not that we don’t want to do something (like getting out of bed), it’s that we can’t. For whatever reason, we feel like that if we do the task or go somewhere, we’ll regret it. Sometimes, we have the mental strength to push ourselves and sometimes we don’t.

Instead say, “How can I help?”

In closing, I wanted to share a quote my first therapist gave me. I feel it completely encapsulates the anxiety disorder experience in one succinct paragraph.

“The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him... a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create -- so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating.” - Pearl S. Buck

#my articles #articles #red dirt report #ocd #depression #mental illness #mental health

[human07091991-blog]

When I was younger I remember having trouble controlling my sadness. Rain fell from my eyes as it fell from the sky. Conflict crushed me. My first love emotionally abusive, left me weak, unprepared, sick. As I entered college I craved numbness and found serenity in alcohol consumption. With every shot of vodka I became less like myself and more like a ghost scaling the walls of my insecurities. Constantly alone in my bedroom crying, I felt ugly and swollen. Misunderstood. Used. Darkness filled the spaces of my mind where memories should have taken root. Mistake after mistake, I marched forward the same as I had before: empty.

I switched schools and moved in with a handful of intelligent women. My being straddled the line of crazed loneliness and sanity. I lived below my best friend and her laughter and normalcy gave me hope. I then met someone that made me feel beautiful, special, sexy. Although his intentions were pure, I found myself confused by the abrupt disgust I felt from his touch. I was no longer his, he was no longer mine. I broke him.

In the relationships that followed, I kept quiet. Pretended that I didn’t care. Blanketed my pain with alcohol followed by regretful mornings of angry runs across the bridge. 

My sweat sour, potent, tired.

As I prepared to leave the country, I met you. After months of texting, I don’t even know if I thought I’d ever actually hear your voice. At Christmas you sent me a collection of songs you’d composed on your keyboard for the people you love. I remember soaking in hot water and listening to a compilation of raw beauty. I cried. I saw myself. I felt overwhelmed with the words that followed. I knew then that you weren’t like other humans and I could tell that you knew I wasn’t either. 

When I entered your apartment you stood on a stool, putting you two inches taller than I. I giggled as my chest awkwardly met your belly button for a hug. My insecurities of being taller than you slowly but surely faded. I remember the first time we laid down. Not only because it was one of my favorite times, but because I wrote about it the following day. You were gentle, giving. I had never felt so comfortable in my own skin. The trips that followed made us giddy with excitement because we couldn’t wait to be back in each other’s arms. 

And then we watched a movie in my parents basement. It was a slightly disturbing movie, but the first one we had watched together after three months. My face was pressed against your chest. It was so nice. Our eyes swelled with tears as it ended because we knew I’d soon enough be thousands of miles away, chasing my dreams, changing the lives of children, missing you.

With the following weeks, I became more sick. Attributing my irregular and unpleasant digestion to stress and nerves, I didn’t have any intention of seeing a doctor. And then I did. One colonoscopy later, our lives would change.

The uncertainty of things seemed unbearable, but nothing seemed impossible to us. You supported the idea that I’d be unemployed until I found the right fit. I moved in. With difficulty you made space for me. I loved turning your apartment into ours with photos and a bed frame. 

I remember convincing you that you were worth more. After hours, days, and weeks of discussion you entered John’s office. You stood tall, unyielding, confident. I loved you more after that day, because I knew you were happier. And that made me happy. Following the football players, I wanted nothing more than to surprise you. And I did. With your friends. One by one, they hugged you. Cheers’d to your hard work. Cheers’d to your boundless skills and creativity.

What followed was ugly. My insecurities bubbled up and spewed out with every argument. After years of silencing my feelings, and avoiding confrontation, I was set loose. Anxiety overtook me at church camp. Between the stress at work and the pain I was causing you, my hands turned blue and I lost the rhythm of my breath. The weeks consisted of a series of medical tests, concluding that I wasn’t physically ill, but mentally unhealthy. 

We visited Denver and the hostile environment and imbalance of altitude left me physically ill. I disappointed you in these moments, and I disappointed myself. (Almost as much as that overpriced steak dinner.) But through all of the pain we found joy and love while sneaking away to the tops of the Rocky Mountains. 

After returning home, I found help through a combination of counseling and medication. I wanted to be better. For you. For me. And I was. And with the universe’s swift and solid hand, an accident involving four vehicles left my foot dislocated and my access to independence non-existent. With a doctor’s visit came an anxiety attack, surgery, pain, and exhaustion. You stayed with me. 

With time your affection for me slowly but surely dissipated. Six days after my surgery, we spent four days at your parents for the holidays. I tried remaining positive, but was overwhelmed with the social activity.  Immobile, tired, out of control.

We argued and you were angry with me. Because I needed you more than usual.

My foot healed in time, and once the boot was removed so was your responsibility for me. I was elated to be driving again. To be able to give you your space. To be able to get coffee when I needed coffee.

And then it was your birthday. The girls sat in the dining room as the boys chatted quietly over beers in the kitchen. As the night progressed the excitement to consume alcohol increased. Shots, beer pong, flip cup. I didn’t mean to, but I became more drunk than you. So did Matt. It was your birthday. Although I don’t remember, we screamed at each other in front of your friends. I later remember throwing up. You were busy taking care of Matt in the other room. I got mad. It was your birthday. In the morning we walked to brunch. I got full on a breakfast burrito bigger than your face. We laughed as if nothing had ever happened.

We had spent one year together, and decided to dine at our favorite restaurant. I wore expensive lingerie under my skirt. I felt nervous, but sexy. You sat close to me and we reminisced about the past and how much we had overcame. I gave you a brown envelope and as you opened it, you laughed. We had gotten each other the same gift. Tickets to Kishi Bashi. With your birthday approaching, I also booked a hotel for the evening of the concert. It was quickly decided that we’d invite our best friends. Trying not to ruin our night. I agreed. The idea of romance that I so hoped for seemed out of reach. 

When the concert came I made sure everything was in order because you worked late. I remember you arriving. I remember feeling insecure. With my injured foot, I had gained close to fifteen pounds. After a few outfit changes I overcame the ping of sadness I had felt and was ready for the evening. You took a photo on the pink Polaroid camera of me on the bed surrounded my dollar bills. We laughed. We kissed. My heart was full. We met Kishi Bashi. He was underwhelmed by our lack of hacky sac skills. With uncertainty we headed back to the hotel. And then I was tired. The following morning we made plans to go to the aquarium. I didn’t think we could afford it after an expensive evening. My lack of enthusiasm shown on my face. We went to O’Malley’s and enjoyed popcorn and tall boys. After a confusing exchange, Amanda and Jake came back to the house. We sat and talked in the kitchen for hours.

The months that followed proved that stability was possible. As my mindset evolved at work, I was able to lay comfortably and quietly in bed with you. Filling our evenings with fictional stories and giggly kisses. 

And then accident two happened. My car was totaled on the highway and I had whiplash bad enough to cause discomfort in sitting or laying for long periods of time. We headed to Columbus for a wedding the following weekend. Against being initially hesitant, I went. Although we were running late we pulled ourselves together and met at Matt and Allie’s. As we arrived to the wedding and discovered the absence of alcohol we excitedly grouped together and ran across the street to a small Mexican grille and bar. I remember during the service, my eyes welling with tears. I remember imagining the beautiful words we’d share in front of our friends and families. I remember imagining our future wrapped up in each other’s love. The type of love that inspired. The type of love that triumphed in the face of difficulty. The type of love that understood and prospered in time. We danced only briefly and my insecurities crept up. I felt tall and awkward and undesirable. After mentioning it to you, I instantly regretted it and pushed past it by holding you on the sidewalk as we got ready to leave. Driving over separately, we made a detour and stopped at Jake and Andrew’s. With my feet blistered and the space between my shoulder blades achy, I decided to stay at the house while you and your friends made your way out to the bar. My contacts dry against my pupils, I wanted to go home. Knowing that you’d be mad if you had to leave I talked of calling an Uber and making the 30 minute journey to Westerville alone. Frustration followed. And I understood why. And I wished I’d stayed home.

A week after we returned home, things were different. I knew you were still angry with me. So we went to Patrick’s. We drank a pitcher of Shock Top and talked of the future. How we could avoid this. How we could make things better. It was decided that you’d make trips to Columbus alone to see your friends for awhile. 

And then you reminded me. Although I assume your intention was to comfort me of the current issues, you pulled me to my knees with your words. You didn’t want kids. The air was stolen from my lungs. The idea of looking into our beautiful blue-eyed baby was crumbled. Was tossed out with no regard. I couldn’t convince you, and now I knew our love wasn’t enough to change your mind.

The following two days left me heartbroken. And that’s when it happened. I had a panic attack like I’d never before experienced. I wished for my life to end. I prayed for God to take my soul and gently place it above the clouds. I couldn’t  live without you, this I knew. You’re my best friend. You’re my drinking buddy. My lover. My laughter. My heart. The sadness I felt encapsulated my body. I felt numb and overwhelmed in the same breath. The next day you brought me flowers, but you didn’t bring me kindness. I wanted to fix it. I wanted to fix us. I felt helpless.

You left that weekend to be with your family and friends. I didn’t hear from you the entire weekend. I was still suicidal, and I didn’t hear from you. With our conversations I hoped for empathy and received rage. I couldn’t fix us.

You came back and you told me with thought you knew you couldn’t provide me with compliments, appreciation, or affection because of the stress of our relationship. Because you thought I needed help. With confusion and rage, I kept quiet. Because I knew it’d be the only way you’d stay. I must change.

I started taking a new anxiety medication in conjunction with my anti-depressants. I got a Fitbit. I challenged myself and my friends. Walking 12,000+ steps a day, I started feeling good. You started touching me unexpectedly in the grocery. Your warm hand intertwined with mine as we aimlessly explored the international aisle. I was keeping better plans with my friends. I was seeing progression.

You asked me to stay with Sara when your friends came into town, but when she wasn’t available. I felt uncomfortable that I’d have to stay home. I was over the moon that your friends were coming into town and I couldn’t wait for you to have the space. I looked at couches. My parents decided to pay for the car. I played with the baby at the pool and spent time with Emily and Dave. I had so much to tell you. I had so much to tell my best friend. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous when your friends arrived and I made my way into the kitchen. But as soon everyone started talking over one another, I wanted nothing more than to come out with you guys. I knew it wasn’t appropriate and I knew you needed your time. But I’m human. and I was bummed. Hoping you’d text me you love me, my impatience and bored flooded your inbox with texts. I suddenly felt embarrassed and overwhelming. I talked to Sara. I didn’t need a baby. I needed you. Throughout the morning I would wake up to the underwhelming sense that you were further away in bed than usual. Had you become annoyed with my texting? Had you found something missing in our relationship during your first official night out with the boys in longer than you could remember? Emily invited me to Findlay so I decided it was best to go there instead of brunch with you and "da bois”. Partially because I felt disconnect, partially because I was too nervous to hold conversation with them. I messed up. I texted you that I felt “unwelcome”. You told them about the text. You got home from brunch and I went for a walk. The entire time I was hysterical. I knew I was losing you.

I asked you if you saw a future with me. With an emotional response of “sometimes”, I pried myself from your arms and started packing. How could this be happening? You asked me to stay. You wanted to talk. But as we did, hostility grew and frustrations took root. You didn’t want to break up. You kissed my forehead. I remained hopeful.

The next day, with heavy eyes, I wrote you a letter. Because I was so heartbroken from the previous day, I asked you what you wanted. To leave or to commit to me for a lifetime. I spoke of a future I pictured with you. I hoped for a response beautiful, ridiculous, engulfing. Like the love we made the first few months of our relationship. I entered our dark apartment to find you on the couch. And I knew that the love I wanted was absent from your eyes. As we got into bed the strength I carried throughout the day was immediately lost. You didn’t know how to move forward. You didn’t have words for me. I tried to pack again to go anywhere when I only wanted to stay wrapped up in your love. You asked me to stay. I stayed. 

This morning I popped out of bed to make you a smoothie and pack your lunch. I remembered what it felt like to do this type of thing for you, as I often did a year ago. It felt nice. You held me tightly and kissed my closed oreo filled mouth. You kissed my forehead. I carried my body back to bed to wake later to a text, “I love you”. I cried at work. Twice. My therapist told me that best the way to a healthy mind is through written reflection. So I write. Maybe for you to read one day, or maybe just for me. I wanted to take this space to recall our short life of love and misfortune without mucking it up, as I normally do in our conversations.

You’re my heart, you’re my soul.