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sp1rit-realm · 2 days

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༻¨*:· 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 ·:*¨༺

༻¨*:· summary ·:*¨༺ 𖦹 remus is used to the same day, and then you come into his life.

༻¨*:· notes ·:*¨༺ 𖦹 please give me some grace. i havent written a full on fic in... a hot second 𖦹 record shop owner!remus x fem!reader (she/her prns) 𖦹 sirius uses he/they prns 𖦹 also. reader moves to england so she doesnt have british accent. yeah. 𖦹 lily evans being the best 𖦹 FLUFF (everyone cheered!) 𖦹 [brief] ANGST (everyone cried!) 𖦹 not proofread

༻¨*:· words ·:*¨༺ 𖦹 2.7k

Routine—a very familiar word to Remus. His days were the same. Wake up, go to work, go home, shower, then sleep. He ate the same thing for breakfast and the same thing for lunch. Dinner was the only thing he frequently changed—maybe one day, he would have pasta, and the next, he would have chicken. He hung out with friends on Saturday, and they went to the same pub every time. The topics were usually the same. Sirius met someone new, someone they claimed to be "The One," only for that person to leave their life. James usually talked about training, Lily, and updates on her pregnancy. Since school ended, things had become... predictable.

You walked into the rickety old record shop, intent on finding your favorite album. It broke on the move to the UK, and you needed it desperately.

Upon hearing the bell ring, Remus looked up. It was part of his routine—to see who had entered his shop—and there you stood, tote bag in hand with messy, windblown hair.

After searching through the Rock section for ages, you practically squeal when you see the album.

Remus looks up as you walk to the counter, "Hi."

"Hi," You smile. Your accent throws Remus off, and he smiles.

He looks at the record, then puts it down, "We have this in a white vinyl," He says, "I— I didn't mark it as colored, so you probably didn't see it. I can go grab it for you?"

You eagerly nod, "That would be fantastic!"

He stands, and you realize how tall he is—it's like he's towering over you.

A moment later, he returns with the other record, "They're hard to come by," He scrawls something on the record sheet, then rings up the album.

You thank him and pay, leaving him to wonder if you'll be back.

The next time you see him, he's with a pretty girl. She's got bleached blonde hair and a cute button nose. She's beautiful. Of course, you recognize the tall man—how could you not? He and the girl make their way to the counter; they both order.

"For Remus," A woman calls out.

Remus—that's his name.

Remus steals glances at you the entire time he's at the coffee shop.

"Who's that?" Marlene asks with a coy smirk.

"I don't know. Came into the shop a couple of weeks ago."

"Oh, so you have a little crush." Marlene is full-on smirking now.

Remus goes red, "What? No." He shakes his head, "No," He repeats, trying to reassure himself that he doesn't have feelings for you.

"Sure," Marlene mutters, taking a sip of her drink.

Remus rolls his eyes.

About a month passes by until you see one another again. You walk into the shop. Remus looks up when the bell rings, and he smiles.

Sirius is there today, and they go up to you.

"What're you looking for?"

You answer, and he leads you to the section as if you don't know the alphabet. He doesn't mean it that way, you know that.

Still, you tease them about it, and their face goes stark red, "Sorry. I just— Sometimes record shops can be confusing in how they order things. Like, when it goes from 'C' to 'D,' does the 'D' section continue on the other side, or does it continue straight across? You know?"

"I'm kidding around," You smile, "I've been here before. Granted, it was just once, but I know how it works. Thank you, though."

"But of course," Sirius curtsies, "Anything for you..."

"Y/n," You introduce yourself.

"I'm Sirius. Like the star," He clarifies, "Like, that's my name. S-i-r-i-u-s," They spell out.

You giggle, "Nice to meet you, Sirius."

"Nice to meet you. I love your silly accent, by the way."

"You're the one with the silly accent," You shoot back.

"Not when my accent is outnumbering yours."

You tilt your head and hum, "Strangely, I understand what you mean."

"It'd be concerning if you didn't."

"Do you frequent this shop a lot?" You ask, flipping through albums.

"My friend is the owner." Sirius shrugs.

You perk up, "Remus?"

Sirius quirks their brow, "You know him?"

You get hot, "No."

He narrows his eyes, "So, how do you know his name is Remus?"

"Well," You whisper, "I came in a while ago. He was really nice when I checked out. Then, a couple of weeks later, I saw him at a coffee shop, and they said his name when his drink was ready."

"You're a creep," Sirius raises his eyebrows.

"No!" You argue.

"Such a creep." Sirius begins walking away; you rush to follow him, "I'm telling him." He says.

You begin to panic, "Wait! No!"

Sirius keeps walking to the front.

"Sirius," You whine, "Stop!"

"Remus!"

You silently will him to stop.

"Remus!" Sirius calls again.

"Lovely lady over here has something to tell you," He smirks.

If looks could kill, Sirius would be six feet under.

"I just– um–" You sputter out, "I just wanted to thank you for helping me with the record last time I was here."

You swear he blushes, but you don't want to look to find out.

"It was no problem," He smiles, "Maybe I could give you a call if any of their other records come in?"

Sirius smirks from the sidelines.

"Um..." It takes a moment to process, "Sure." You nod assertively, "Yeah. I would love that!"

Remus's world has turned upside down—you keep him on his toes. He stays up because, maybe, you'll call tonight. You eat lunch with him sometimes, and gone are the days when he eats the same thing every day. Gone are the days when he closes up shop at 7:00. Gone is routine.

"Do you want to have dinner tonight?" You ask, wrapping the cord around your finger.

"I'm actually going out," Remus responds. You frown, and your imagination runs wild. What if he's going on a date?

"Hello?" He asks, and you realize you've blocked him out.

"Huh? Sorry?"

"I asked if you wanted to come with me. You can meet my mates. If you want." He spits out. Saying it once is nerve-wracking enough; saying it twice is terrifying because what if you say no? What if you don't want to meet his friends? What if–

"I'd love to!" You cut his frantic thoughts off, and his heart swells.

"Really?" He asks.

"Of course!"

So, now, you're standing in front of a random pub, wondering if he's pranking you. It's been about five minutes, and you know that's not a long time to wait, but your anxiety is getting the better of you.

Then, five turns to fifteen, and you're wondering how pathetic you look.

"Y/n?"

Your head whips to the door, "Sirius? When'd you get here?"

Sirius checks their wrist like they're checking a watch, "'Bout half an hour ago. Did the dimwit not tell you to meet us inside?"

You shake your head, "He said to meet him at the bar. So, I guess he didn't quite specify." You shrug.

"Well, come on in," He holds the door open for you.

You thank Sirius and look around for Remus. He's not hard to spot, and Sirius jogs over to their booth before whispering something into Remus's ear. He looks up and smiles brightly.

"You're here!" He exclaims.

"You're here." You say, tone almost scolding him.

Sirius whispers something else to him.

His face drops, "Oh... sorry for not telling you to meet us inside." His mouth quirks to one side in a guilty expression.

You smile, "It's okay. I forgive you." You sit next to him.

"Oh, thank god," He rests his hand on his chest, "A pretty girl being mad at me would've been my death."

Heat blossoms in your chest.

"So..." James begins, "Now that flirt time is over, can I say hello?"

"Ha!" Sirius barks out, "Flirt time!"

Remus gets warm, "This is James, another one of my school friends. James, this is y/n."

All James says is: "You're his lock screen, y'know?"

Remus kicks him under the table.

"I mean–" James smiles, "Hello, it's nice to meet you. I have never seen your face before."

"Smooth," Sirius whispers to James.

You smile at Remus's red face.

"Ignore him, please?" He begs.

You nod.

Sirius and James tell you embarrassing stories about Remus for the rest of the night, and the boy starts to regret introducing you to them as a pair.

At the end of the night, he drops you off.

Rubbing his face, he sighs, "I hope they weren't too much."

You smile brightly, and Remus feels like he could fall to his knees, "I had an amazing time. They're really fun, Remus."

You leave him with a kiss on the cheek—he puts his hand up to the spot and smiles the whole way home.

"I've missed you," You say into the phone.

"I've missed you, too. You should just let me come over." Remus begs for the umpteenth time.

"I don't want to get you sick," You frown, "That would be horrible."

"It wouldn't be the end of the world. We could quarantine together," He smirks, "I could make you soup, and we could cuddle together on the couch and watch some ridiculous rom-com."

"Take a girl out on a date first!" You joke.

"I would if you weren't so busy being poorly." Remus groans.

"So you're asking me out on a date?" You smile and do a little happy dance.

"I guess I am."

He's smug, and you can tell.

A week later, you sit in a fancy restaurant—the kind where the prices aren't even on the menu. Remus is fidgety. He's wearing his nicest button-down, and you think it looks funny on him. He gets red at your comment and looks down at the table with pursed lips.

"I just meant that I'm so used to you wearing those comfy sweaters. You look good, though." You earnestly smile at him.

"You look nice tonight, yourself."

"Well, I'm going on a date with this charming boy. I wanted to impress him."

"I hear he's very impressed."

You insist on paying, but he won't let you. As soon as you pull out your wallet, he snatches it from you.

He kisses you before leaving you at your car, and you don't want it to stop. It's soft and tender, and it's everything you hoped it would be.

One date turns to two, which turns to five, and now you're anxiously pacing in your flat. You're dating Remus; you have been for a few months, and you're not sure when it's an appropriate time to ask the question, but you'll ask tonight. Except Remus doesn't come. He doesn't call, either.

After an hour of worrying, you call Sirius.

"Hello?" He answers—it's obvious he's high.

"Hi. Do you know where Remus is?"

Sirius laughs, "Right here."

"Can I talk to him?"

You hear rustling as Sirius passes the phone.

"Hello?"

"Remus," You whine.

"Hey there. What's going on?" He's calm—too calm. He's also high.

"You were supposed to come over tonight." You frown—it's a fruitless effort. He can't see you.

"Shit. 'M sorry, baby," He frowns, too. You can hear it.

"'S okay. I was just really looking forward to seeing you." You dramatically slide down your wall into a crouching position.

"I'd come over, but, y'know," He wanders off.

"You're so high you can barely walk?" You offer.

He takes it, "Yes."

"It's alright," You sigh, and Remus feels terrible, "Promise you'll come over tomorrow?"

"Promise," He answers.

But then tomorrow comes, and Remus has yet to show up. So you dial his number, but he doesn't pick up. An hour passes until your phone rings, and you're anxious and giddy and hopeful as you pick it up.

"Sorry." Remus's voice is gruff, and you can hear the guilt in his tone.

"It's okay. You can still come over. It's not too late."

"No," He sighs, "I'm sorry, but I can't... I have to break up with you."

Your face drops with your stomach, "What?"

"I can't be with you. I'm— I'm sorry."

"No!" Tears blur your vision, "You can't just tell me we're over. Explain yourself!"

"I just can't do it anymore. It's too hard."

You choke out a sob, "What's too hard? Loving me?"

"No," He sighs, and he sounds tired, oh so tired, "I'm incapable of giving you what you need."

"And who gets to say what I need?"

"Y/n, for your sake, I'm ending this. I can't provide for you in the way you'll need me to."

"Remus," You sigh, "I don't understand. What do you mean you 'can't provide' for me?"

"I can't emotionally be there for you. I'm sorry."

And as you hear the dial tone, you let your sobs out.

You feel empty. Your only friends are Remus's; now you feel like you can't talk to them.

"You're daft," Sirius scolds, "Y/n was lovely, and you break up with her over the phone?!"

Remus hangs his head in shame, "Yeah, I did."

Then Remus looked up and was met with one of his worst fears. He'd been on Lily Evans's bad side more than once, but never like this. He'd only seen this stare a handful of times, but not once was it directed at him, until now.

She marches over to the booth, never breaking her stare, leans close to Remus, and slaps him, "You twat!"

He doesn't know what to say, so he holds his cheek and waits for her to continue.

"You hurt an exceptionally lovely girl for what?! Because you're insecure? Because it was too scary to feel loved so deeply? That girl gave you her all, Remus! And this is how you treat her?" Lily's face is red at the end of her rant, and Sirius tries to hold in their snickers.

Lily narrows her eyes at Remus, "I can read you like a book, Remus Lupin. I know what's going on in that magnificently stupid head of yours! Go apologize to her!"

"I can't," He murmurs, "I've already ruined it."

She rolls her eyes, "You won't know unless you try, and not knowing will eat at you, and you will die confused, sad, and alone."

"She has a point," Sirius agrees, "I mean... we all know you'll just mope around until we push you to talk to her, but by then, it'll be too late. She will have found somebody, and they'll get married, and you'll just be that bloke from when she moved here. Go talk to her."

"What do I say?"

It's almost midnight when a knocking at your door wakes you. Groaning, you get out of bed and make your way to the door.

You undo the bottom lock, keeping the chain in place.

"Yes?" You peek through the crack, surprised to see Remus holding flowers on the other side.

"I'm sorry."

He thinks he's surely blown it when you close the door, but he hears the chain clanking as you fully unlock it.

"What are you doing here?"

Remus wants to cry at the sight of you. Your eyes are bloodshot and puffy, with red tracing your waterline.

"I—" He has a whole script planned out but seems to have forgotten every word, "I have flowers," He settles on.

"For me?"

He nods.

"What are you doing here?" You ask again, taking the flowers.

"I'm here to apologize. I was a dick the other day."

You tilt your head, "You mean the other day when you broke up with me?"

Remus almost doesn't catch the sarcasm, "I'm sorry. I get so caught up in my head—"

You turn from him, "Come in," You mutter as you walk into your kitchen.

He closes the door behind him and toes his shoes off, "I get scared when I let somebody get too close."

"Tea?"

"Yes, please."

He watches as you move around your kitchen, grabbing cups and boiling the water. He's missed you.

"Why let me get close at all, then?"

"Because I like you."

You turn and look at him, "Do you, now?"

Remus sighs, "Look, I fucked up, I know that. Do you think we can try again?"

You walk over to him, "You said you can't give me what I need. What does that mean, Remus?"

"I'm unfit to be with somebody."

"I don't think so. You were wonderful the past three months. So wonderful that I think, if you work on yourself, we can give this another go."

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, leaning in.

"I look terrible," You laugh.

"No," He rests his forehead against yours, "You're always beautiful."

"Kiss me."

hi guys sorry if this is bad😇😇

my lovely mutuals <33 @sepptember @violetteshoneybee @ay0nha @maroon-winestain @prongsio @imabee-oralizard @storyofaromance @queerpumpkinnn @doyouknowwhoyouare13 @zvdvdlvr @reysdriver @g1rld1ary @starsval @vampieteeth @maddipoof @bruisedboys @ell0ra-br3kk3r

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w2soneshots · 1 day

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Dad mode -W2S

Words: 0.9k+

Warnings: none.

In which Harry takes care of your baby while you’re away.

a/n: hello lovelies!! Please send it more requests! My baby fever is officially back😚. I hope you enjoy this dad!bog fic🧸💓

Today I'm leaving my baby girl Millie for the first time. She just turned three months old. It's been amazing so far. Me and Harry love her with every ounce of our being. I was a little bit apprehensive about leaving her but it's only going to be for twenty four hours and I know I can trust Harry.

I packed an overnight bag then left the apartment at 7am. Unfortunately I didn't get to say goodbye to Millie since she was still asleep. I did say a quick bye to Harry though and he could tell I was nervous so he reassured me that everything would be fine and that he would send me regular updates. Which calmed me. Harry's looked after the baby for a few hours but never overnight.

Harry's pov:

I fell back asleep after y/n left. Then just half an hour later I woke to the sound of Millie crying. I quickly slid out of bed then grabbed her from the small bassinet that sat in the corner off our room. "Shh, I've got ya." I whispered as I picked her up and held her close. I changed her nappy then made her a bottle. "There we go." She sat on my lap and peacefully drank her milk.

After quickly eating my own breakfast I got dressed. Then I picked out an outfit for Millie. I put her in a light pink long sleeved onesie with some denim overalls over the top. It was actually an outfit y/n had put her in a few weeks ago so I knew she looked ok. I grabbed her nappy bag from her nursery (that she hasn't actually slept in yet) along with the buggy. Once I was ready to leave I sent y/n a text that read "she's had her bottle and she's in a good mood. I'm gonna take her on a walk. Love you x" she replied almost immediately. "I knew you'd be fine. Love you xx"

Once I got Millie into her buggy we left. I walked just over fifteen minutes until I was stopped by a young girl. "Excuse me, are you Wroetoshaw?" She asked. I nodded. "Could I please get a picture?" "Yea, sure." I took a quick pic then she turned her attention to Millie, who was sound asleep. "Thank you. Your babies really cute." And with that she happily walked away.

Ten minutes later I was outside the tall building where we film more sidemen and everything for side plus. I checked in at the front desk then pushed the buggy into lift. "Ey! Bog!" Ethan shouted once I was inside. "Hey." I replied. JJ rushed over. "You brought Millie!" He excitedly looked into the pram. "Yea y/n's on a work trip so I'm looking after her today. Thought I'd come and say hi." On the way up she'd woken up so I pulled her from the pram and gave her to JJ. He has really taken to being an uncle. I didn't know he liked kids that much but he turns into a marshmallow when he's around her and Olive.

Tobi also came to say hello. "I swear she's grown twice the size since I last saw her!" Tobi commented as he held her. "Yea! She's growing up to fast." JJ added. She always gets a massive fuss made over her when she's around the boys and she loves it. After a little while I left the boys to film and headed back home.

Once I got home I sat with Millie while I watched the most recent Chelsea match. We both had some lunch then I got a phone call from y/n. "Hey." I answered putting it on speaker. While she told me about her day I gently rocked Millie. "So how's it going? Did you take her to see the boys?" She asked, since I'd told her yesterday that I planned to visit them. "Yea, they made a fuss as usual." I replied. She giggled.

When 6pm rolled around it was time to put Millie to sleep. I slowly placed her into the cot but she immediately began screaming. My eyes widened. "Okey-dokey." I sighed as I picked her up again. y/n was usually the one to put the baby to sleep and I do the morning shift so I hadn't had much practice. "Shh shh." I rocked her. She continued to cry. "For fudge sake." We decided that we should try our best not to swear around the baby so we say, sugar, shoot and other random words instead.

I grabbed the tv control from y/n's side of the bed then clicked onto youtube. I selected 'night changes' by one direction. Since it seems to be one of the only things that calms her down. And it's ironic since that's actually the song that was playing when she popped out into the world. She slowly stopped crying until it was just a small sniffle. "There we go. No need to be so upset you donut." I whispered as she drifted off to sleep. I held her for a few more minutes until I placed her into the cot. Thankfully she stayed asleep. I grabbed the baby monitor from the side then crept back into the lounge.

The next morning I woke to the smell of bacon. I jumped out of bed to follow the smell. y/n stood in the kitchen, Millie on her hip, hair in a messy bun and a slight bounce in her step as she hummed quietly. "She looks beautiful." I thought as I lent against the door frame. "Morning." I smiled as I walked towards her. She jumped slightly. "Sugar! You scared me." I laughed. Then pecked her on the lips.

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stayteezdreams · 2 days

Text

Finding out BF!TXT are Supernatual Creatures {headcanons}

Headcanons: Finding out your boyfriend is a supernatural creature

Pairings: Soobin x Gn!Reader; Yeonjun x Gn!Reader; Beomgyu x Gn!Reader; Taehyun x Gn!Reader; and Huening Kai x Gn!Reader

{Stray Kids Version} {Ateez Version}

Warnings: n/a

Requested by: @otakutrash669

A/n: Not me low-key wanting to write full-fics about some of these (mainly Soobin and Yeonjun's)??? There are probably a lot of stories and myths surrounding the Imugi, so I went with one that fit my personal narrative for these headcanons

Words: 2k

Soobin (Fallen-Angel):

Soobin was a guardian Angel who fell by choice.

He wanted to live as a human so he left his duties as a Guardian Angel, but once mortal still had remnant powers.

When he met you, he was drawn to you and felt as though he needed to protect you.

It turns out you were one of his destined souls to protect, but you were left alone when he chose to become human.

He decided to keep an eye on you, and accidentally met you when he saved you from being side-swiped by a car.

You ended up becoming friends, and Soobin ended up falling for you fairly quickly after that.

Not long into your relationship, Soobin decided to tell you about his past and what he was.

You obviously thought he was joking, but he proved it with one of his powers (teleportation).

You were stunned but in awe.

He expected you to feel betrayed or scared, but you weren't.

You trusted him, even after he told you he abandoned you when he became human.

"But you came back to me."

"Yes, I did."

He showed you the rest of his powers, and told you many stories of his life as an Angel.

You become somewhat withdrawn after some time and Soobin grew worried.

After pressing you for answers, you admitted that you felt unworthy of his love after learning about what he was and what he had experienced.

But he reassured you he loved you more than anything and found himself to be the unworthy one.

"I have never been drawn to someone like this. I have never loved as deeply."

You started referring to him as Angel, which to others was just a cute pet-name, but to you two was an inside joke and secret.

Yeonjun (Fox/Familiar):

Surprise! You are secretly a witch, you just don't know it!

The only person who does is Yeonjun.

You met Yeonjun one day when he just showed up at your work place.

He started to linger and you often caught him watching you. You thought he was handsome and mysterious.

Slowly he started to talk to you, and you became friends, but not for long before he asked you on a date. Your relationship grew from there and you started dating.

When you started to spend more time at each others houses, you started to pick up on odd things.

Things you needed or wanting suddenly being nearby. Flickering lights when you get upset.

Yeonjun somehow always knowing when you needed help.

Not to mention a fox you noticed lingering in your yard a lot, who seems to watch you.

"I think I'm being haunted."

"Or maybe its something else."

"Like what?"

"Magic."

You started to think Yeonjun knew something you didn't and grew suspicious.

He began noticing you growing uneasy and figured it was time to tell you.

But one day, it all came to a head when you woke up to find everything in your room floating, including you.

You and all of the objects fell to the ground and you called Yeonjun in fear.

When he appeared faster than humanly possible, you knew he had to know what was going on.

So he explained.

He was a familiar without a witch, and one day he sensed your magic trapped in your body and wanted to help you find it.

He explained everything, and how he had slowly been using his own abilities to draw the magic out of you.

You were confused, and took this as him tricking you, fearing he was only with you for the use of your magic, and that he didn't actually have feelings for you.

Yeonjun admitted that at first he had no feelings for you, but wanted to get closer to your magic.

A familiar without a witch often felt useless and alone, and their magic increases once they bond with a witch.

But he had truly fallen for you early on, and wanted to be with you while helping you to discover your magic.

You weren't sure what to do, so you asked him for some space.

A week passed and you had come to terms with your newfound abilities, and were curious to learn more.

You also found that you missed Yeonjun, even if you weren't sure you could trust him.

But you accepted that he was the only one who could help you. So you reached out.

He was happy and enthusiastic, but you told him you still needed time to decide if you wanted to be with him romantically.

He understood, though was saddened by this.

So, he waiting, while he helped you to discover your magic and acted as your teacher and familiar.

You knew your feelings for him were still prevalent, as were his.

Eventually you gave in and accepted you wanted to be with him.

He was relieved and ecstatic, and promised he would never keep anything from you again.

Beomgyu (Imugi):

The Imugi is a large magical water Serpent, that after 1000 years can choose to become a full-fledged dragon.

However, there was one, who chose to become human instead.

When Beomgyu finally did become human, he adapted very quickly.

You met at school, and thought he was a bit odd, but cute.

He often seemed to be unaware of many simple or well-known things. And often asked a lot of questions.

He told you he had just been sheltered his whole life and you took his word for it. Not asking too any questions for fear of bringing up painful memories.

Yet at the same time, he knew about niche things you had never imagine he would know about.

You became friends and then after a few years, gave into your feelings.

The two of you had only been dating for a short time when Beomgyu decided to tell you what he was.

You thought he was just making a weird joke, but the more time that passed and he didn't reveal it was a joke the more you grew uncertain.

Was he secretly a bit crazy? Was his past more "sheltered" than you thought? Or was he telling the truth?

The last option seemed the craziest of them all, but he proved it to you by showing you the remnants of his past serpent-nature.

Meaning, he grew horns and scales appeared across his cheeks, chest and hands.

You were startled and speechless and he was afraid he scared you.

Honestly you were a bit afraid, but not necessarily of him.

Your world had suddenly been changed in the span of a few seconds, and now you knew magic creatures like serpents and dragons existed.

Once the pure astonishment wore away, you grew curious and exited.

And Beomgyu was more than happy to tell you all about the world he was from. Magic, creatures, and immortality.

He made you promise to keep his secret, which you of course agreed too. Though you sometimes wished you could brag about your magical boyfriend to someone.

Taehyun (Vampire):

So many people on your college campus were attracted to Kang Taehyun.

He was mysterious, attractive, and had an air about him no one could really describe.

He was often called the Siren of the campus.

But, there was only one person he was attracted to. You.

You were weary of him, uncertain if you should trust someone like him.

He could sense this so he was cautious in approaching you, befriending you slowly and delicately.

Eventually you gave into his advances and started to hang around him more.

You learned that he was much kinder and softer than he appeared on the outside.

He was upfront about his growing feelings for you, and though you did not mention your own, you felt the same.

Eventually, just as you did before, you gave in and accepted you had fallen for him.

As your relationship grew, you started to become aware that he was hiding something from you. But you weren't sure what exactly.

Taehyun himself, had begun growing restless.

He wasn't expecting his feelings for you to become so strong. He began wanting a future with you, and the more he realized this was impossible, the more conflicted he became.

Eventually, he grew distant, pulling away, and inevitably breaking it off with you suddenly.

Your heart was broken and you needed to know why but he would not tell you.

One day, when doing a research project for your history class, you were going through past yearbooks of your college. A name caught your eye. Kang Taehyun.

Finding the matching photo you were stunned to see he had not only the same name but the same face as your now ex-boyfriend.

The photo was from over 50 years prior. Was it Taehyun's father? Or maybe grandfather?

The more you thought about it, the more you realized you knew nothing of Taehyuns family apart from a few short stories.

You started to put things together in your mind, and as crazy as you thought you might be, you needed to know.

So you found Taehyun, placed the photo in front of him and waited for him to explain.

He knew he could give you excuses, make something up, but he missed you, and hated how he hurt you. So he gave in and told you the truth.

He didn't need to prove it for you to believe him.

Taehyun explained that he didn't think his interest in you would become what he felt was true love, but he knew you couldn't be together forever unless he turned you or watched as you grew old and die.

You talked for a long time and after some time decide to be together, Taehyun knew he would rather be with you than leave you behind.

He left the choice to you if you would let him turn you, or if you would stay with him for as long as you could, mortal and immortal.

The choice is yours.

Huening Kai (Fairy):

Everything about your relationship with Kai was normal.

He was sweet and beautiful and he thought the same of you.

You always knew there was something ethereal about him but you figured it was just your imagination and his general vibe.

So what if animals seemed to never be afraid of him? And the fact that sunlight seems to sparkle on his skin.

So what if you sometimes saw him out of the corner of your eye and thought he had wings, or some type of halo aura surrounding him. It was just your mind playing tricks.

You called him your Disney Prince and he thought it was cute, but you always noticed a peculiar twinkle in is eye when you talked about these things it him.

One day, when you caught him off guard, you found him standing out in the sun, and the wings sprouting from his back were definitely not your imagination.

You stared at him in awe, watching as the sunlight seemed to absorb into his skin.

When he finally noticed you, everything surrounding him disappeared in a second, as if he shut a light off.

You were stunned, speechless, confused.

He approached you cautiously, afraid to frighten you or freak you out.

He was not expecting you to snap back into reality with a loud "I KNEW IT"

You were relieved to no longer be plague with the thoughts that something was wrong with you. And amazed to know you had been dating a....well, whatever he was.

After asking, Kai explained. He was the son of a fairy and a human. Mortal, but magical.

He shared his history with you, and his magic, and the struggles he had always keeping it from you.

He was warned to keep it a secret, told to by his parents to keep him safe. But he loved you, and wanted you to know, but wasn't sure when or how to tell you.

No that you found out he was relieved he didn't have to hide it anymore.

You ended up meeting with his parents and discussing everything, and you promised that you would never tell his secret, and you would help keep it and him safe.

Thought a bit cautious, his parents finally accepted it, and allowed you to stay with him.

Kai does not quite like his knew nickname 'Fairy Princess' as much as his previous one though.

General Taglist: @otsilliak, @brattybunfornct, @bahng-chrizz, @otakutrash669, @tinyelfperson, @pinievsev, @teenyfinds, @everythingboutkpop

TxT Taglist: @thunderous-wolf, @briqnne, @crazyformfics Yeonjun & Soobin: @hongjoongsprincess, @dear-dreamie, Yeonjun: @ye0nvibezzn

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justlemmeadoreyou · 1 day

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4. heat of the kitchen (restaurant owner!harry x chef!reader)

(part 1 here) | (part 2 here) | (part 3 here)

summary: the day of the gala, but something unexpected happens, leaving you a responsibility that could either make or break your career.

words: 5k

warnings: fluff, a hint of angst.

You had just started falling into a restless sleep when your phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand, making you jump awake in surprise. Squinting your blurry eyes at the bright screen, you felt a prickle of worry when you saw the time - 4:17am. This couldn't be good news at this hour.

Sure enough, it was Harry's number flashing on the caller ID. With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you swiped to answer and brought the phone to your ear. "Hello?"

"[Y/N], hey..." Even through the tinny distortion of the phone line, you could hear the grimness and exhaustion in Harry's voice. "Look, I...there's been an emergency with my family back home. My mom is really sick and not doing well."

You sat up straight in bed now, any remaining grogginess from sleep instantly swept away by a crushing wave of dismay. You listened in silence as he explained in brief phrases about needing to get on the next available flight to go back to New York right away. He said he wasn't sure when he'd be able to return to Chicago.

"I just didn't have a chance to let you know about this earlier," Harry's low, raspy voice crackled with regret. "I've already spoken with Thomason to take over running things at the event today, but...I'm so sorry, [Y/N]. The timing of this could not possibly be worse."

"No no, please don't even worry about that right now," you interjected quickly, your mind already whirling with the huge implications of what he was saying. Today was the extremely important Martin gala event - without Harry there to oversee the execution of his highly complicated, avant-garde centrepiece dish, the whole thing could spectacularly fall apart in front of all the big-name food critics and chefs of Chicago.

And yet...none of that professional stuff mattered at all compared to the intensely personal crisis your mentor was going through right now. "Is everything...I mean, is your mom going to be okay?" you asked hesitantly, not wanting to pry too much but deeply concerned.

Harry let out a shaky sigh that made your chest clench with empathy for what he must be feeling. "I don't know yet. They're running some medical tests on her this morning to get more answers, but...it doesn't look good so far based on what they've told me."

There was a heavy pause before he added in a rough, strained voice, "Looks like I've got another big battle ahead of me here."

Despite the gravity of the situation, you felt a pang of fondness at those terse words that sounded so quintessentially like Harry - tackling this heart-wrenching personal turmoil with the same determination and head-on approach he always brought to challenges in the kitchen.

"I'll be okay," Harry stated in a tone that made it clear he didn't want or expect any sympathy or reassurance from you about it. "Right now, all I need is for you to promise me that the gala event today is going to be a complete success no matter what else is happening. Can you handle being fully in charge of running the whole operation and making sure my vision for the centerpiece dish comes out perfectly?"

He didn't need to go into more detail - you knew full well the enormity of the responsibility he was asking you to take on here. Tremors of nerves joined the waves of sympathy and concern roiling through you at the weight of this task. But you didn't hesitate at all before answering.

"You have my word, Chef," you vowed solemnly. "I'll treat this dish and event with the same intense, laser-focused commitment you've been drilling into me from day one - and I absolutely won't let you down."

This time, Harry's answering exhale held the faintest trace of pride and...something more you couldn't quite put your finger on. "I know you won't let me down. I'm gonna have to go take care of things now, but I'll call again later to check in on how preparations are going over there. In the meantime, just stay calm, stay focused, and execute everything exactly like we've practiced over and over again these past weeks."

"I will. And Harry--" you hesitated momentarily before plunging ahead. "I really hope...well, just please take care of yourself too, okay? Sending you all my best wishes for your mom to get through this."

There was a beat of surprised silence before he responded in a gruff but sincere voice, "Yeah...thanks, [Y/N]. I appreciate that."

With that, the call clicked off abruptly, leaving you alone amid the predawn stillness with nothing but the immense weight of the trust and responsibility Harry had placed on your shoulders.

This was by far the biggest professional challenge you'd ever faced in your culinary career. Not just having to pull off executing Harry's avant-garde, innovative, wildly complex dish to absolute perfection under the intense scrutiny of the biggest names and players in Chicago's food world - but doing so while your mentor battled a hugely serious personal crisis unfolding all the way across the country in New York. Just the thought of it made your stomach churn with anxious adrenaline and nerves.

Still...despite the daunting nature of this task, you couldn't help but feel a sense of opportunity arising as well. This was an unexpected and unprecedented chance for you to truly prove yourself at the highest possible level, to rise up and show you had the skills and mental toughness to handle the most intense culinary pressure situations. You'd worked too damn hard, invested too many long hours of sweat and failures in kitchens everywhere to let this monumental opportunity slip through your fingers.

A feeling of steely resolve settled over you as you climbed out of bed and began methodically getting ready to start your day. No matter what curveball life had thrown at Harry derailing his own ability to participate, your role and mission remained unchanged - you made a solemn vow to him, and you utterly refused to let him down when he was counting on you most in this dire moment. This gala would go off flawlessly, the vision and game plan he'd meticulously drilled into you executed with precise mastery down to every last detail. Abject failure was simply not an option today.

***

By the time the first pale streaks of dawn began filtering through your windows, you were fully dressed and shoving a high-protein bar into your mouth as fuel while heading out the door to the event venue. Despite the early hour, there was already a palpable buzz and energy of activity when you arrived, crews of staffers and organizers darting around in a highly choreographed frenzy as they put the very final touches and preparations in place.

You spotted Thomason's towering, intimidating form immediately - the harsh sous chef resembled a military general marshaling the troops, barking out orders and keeping everything flowing in an orderly yet intense manner. Straightening your spine, you crossed over purposefully to greet him directly. Thomason's eyes flicked over you appraisingly before giving a short, sharp nod of acknowledgment. "Good, you're here. Let's get you situated and start running through all your station assignments."

Without any further preamble or wasted words, he turned sharply on his heel and strode off at a brisk pace, clearly expecting you to fall into step directly behind him with no delays. Suppressing a resigned sigh, you did just that, matching his stride as Thomason immediately launched into a rapid-fire rundown and delegation of every single responsibility that would fall under your purview for the entire day.

It was...honestly, a staggering amount of crucial tasks and oversight duties to absorb all at once this early in the morning, especially given the giant extenuating circumstance and crisis situation hanging overhead with Harry's absence. But Thomason pressed on in his typical brusque, no-nonsense manner.

Apparently Harry had already briefed the imposing, burly sous chef on the pertinent details of the personal situation he was dealing with, as evidenced by Thomason's uncharacteristic patience whenever you had to pause to fully digest certain instructions or ask for any clarification on assignments. But the gruff kitchen veteran otherwise made no comforting allowances, simply conveying the huge pile of duties you'd need to stay on top of from morning prep straight through to the evening's high-stakes dinner service.

By the time he finally finished laying out the overwhelming laundry list of tasks you were accountable for, a tenuous sense of control had settled over your earlier panic and worries. You could do this. Logistically speaking, it would be the most daunting and high-pressure culinary challenge you'd ever faced by far - but thanks to all the intense training and preparation Harry had put you through, you genuinely felt as ready as you could possibly be. All that remained now was keeping your head down and executing flawlessly with the same pinpoint focus and work ethic he'd instilled in you through those grueling practice runs.

With a grim nod of determination, you turned and started overseeing your assigned kitchen crew in setting up the intricate series of mise en place stations that would be required for pulling off Harry's avant-garde, wildly complex centerpiece dish. All around you, the buzz of frantic activity swelled as area after area of the massive venue was brought online in final preparation for the rapidly approaching arrival times of guests and participants.

Though you kept waiting for the spike of nerves and adrenaline to hit, surprisingly, a strange sense of calm numbness had instead descended over you - the kind that often surfaced in the middle of an intense, all-hands-on-deck dinner rush back at the restaurant. In these do-or-die, make-it-or-break-it kinds of situations, there simply was no spare mental bandwidth available for anything beyond the critical task directly in front of you in that very moment. Distracting thoughts and nerves got shunted aside as survival instincts took over.

And just like that, you lost yourself in the soothing, almost meditative rhythm of prep work, falling into that laser-focused state of dicing, slicing, arranging each individual ingredient component with painstaking, meticulous care according to the detailed specifications Harry had drilled into you over and over. At one point, you absently accepted a bottled water from one of your line cooks with a murmured thanks, but otherwise operated on auto-pilot.

You weren't entirely sure how much time had elapsed before Thomason's gruff bark of "Ten minutes!" roused you from your intense, trance-like focus. All around, your crew instantly kicked into an even higher gear, ferrying the completed mise en place components to the designated plating stations in an efficient flurry of motion. You barely registered Thomason sidling up next to you with an evaluating look on his imposing features.

"You did decent prep work so far, kid," he acknowledged in a tone of voice that was only marginally less dismissive than his usual demeanor. "Now let's see if you can actually plate this bastard of a complicated dish without totally screwing the pooch."

With that uniquely Thomason-style pep talk, he gave your shoulder a clap and then strode off to take his place at the all-important expediting position for the evening's service, leaving you warmed by the backhanded compliment. Coming from the notoriously harsh and miserly-with-praise Thomason, those words were basically the equivalent of an ecstatic rave.

Any boost of confidence was welcome at this point, as the first wave of elite guests began trickling into the dining area right on schedule. You could feel the atmosphere in the room shifting, charging with buzzing energy and anticipation as these influential culinary figures saw the artfully designed space, flipped through the rundown of tonight's prix fixe menu, and speculated about what boundary-pushing creation Harry had surely concocted for his centrepiece auction dish.

Your own adrenaline kicked into high gear as you took your place at the head plating station, flanked by your hand-picked crew who would assist in the extremely intricate assemble of all the individual components coming together. A hush fell over the kitchen as you exchanged looks with your team, giving a final nod of readiness.

"First courses..." came the terse callout from the expo line. And with that, you immediately snapped into focus, hands moving with the precision drilled into them through countless practice runs as you began plating the initial courses.

From there, the entire high-stakes evening blurred into a cyclone of intense concentration and rapid-fire execution, broken only by the occasional smattering of polite applause from the dining room as each new course made its debut to apparent delight. But you remained steadfastly disengaged from all of that, shutting it out entirely as you moved with economical grace from one fastidiously assembled plate to the next in a state of total flow.

You were aware on some level of Thomason periodically prowling the line, sharp eyes scrutinizing every last component with the intensity of a decorated drill sergeant. But his presence was almost soothing in a way, a low-key affirmation that you and your crew were hitting every lofty mark thus far.

Finally, after what felt like both a grueling endurance marathon and the naturally seamless completion of a singular, continuous motion...it was time. All the other courses had been executed flawlessly, clearing the way for the pièce de résistance - Harry's avant-garde centerpiece dish that would cap off the evening. You took a deep, steadying breath as the first calls came in from the expo line.

"Fire one centerpiece!"

Your hands moved with the precision of a surgeon, each practiced motion flowing seamlessly into the next as you began assembling the first plate of the showstopper course. Around you, your crew worked in the same laser-focused unison, handling each individual component with utmost care and attention to detail.

Despite the mounting pressure with every new order fire, that strange sense of calm numbness persisted. There was no mental bandwidth to spare on anything extraneous - your entire world had contracted to these series of sequential tasks laid out before you, each one flowing naturally into the next like a continuous stream.

Plating tweezers arranged the final delicate pour of herb-infused olive oil spheres with the same singular focus as you squeezed the pipette to apply the perfectly calibrated dot of acidic reduction. Not a single movement was wasted, not a component out of place as you slid the finished avant-garde masterpiece across to the expo line for final approval before heading out to the dining room.

"Looked good from here, kid," Thomason's gruff voice sounded in your ear amidst the orchestrated chaos, startling you slightly. You blinked, barely registering the stocky sous chef's towering presence overseeing your shoulder before turning your attention immediately back to the next set of hands firing.

On and on it went in that same relentless yet steady cadence, each nouveau plate a pristine reflection of the focus, intensity, and cumulative skill that had been honed into you over months of Harry's rigorous training. Sweat beaded along your hairline, apron dampening as you moved with increasing speed and efficiency under the mounting pressure of continuous fires.

You were only vaguely aware of the soft crashing waves of polite applause rolling in from the nearby dining room each time a new creation hit the tables. Your ears were trained to more important sounds - the sharp callouts from expo, the curt exchanges between yourself and your crew attempting to maintain the incredible pace.

At one point, you registered Thomason's heavy tread beside you once more, his grizzled voice pitched low to be heard over the controlled pandemonium. "Pretty damn flawless so far, I'll give you that. But don't let your foot off the gas now, we still got a ways to go yet."

A simple grunt of acknowledgment was all you could spare in response as you plated two more centerpiece dishes in rapid succession, sliding them across for inspection. Thomason made a noise of begrudging approval before turning away, freeing you to tunnel-vision once more.

Swaying slightly on your feet from the physical toll and intense focus, you blinked away the spotties at the edge of your vision. There was simply no other choice - failure was not an option, not after everything you and Harry had invested into this critical moment.

How much time had elapsed, you couldn't say. All you knew was the continuous cycle of order fires, the increasingly efficient rhythm of your movements and those of your crew. The end goal of seeing this groundbreaking creation delivered to the last diner with the same polish as the first lone plate.

It was only when the final callout came over the line that reality slowly bled back in around the edges. "Last one, centerpiece! Fire for the panel..."

The clatter of your toolkit was shockingly loud in the relative stillness as you began assembling that climactic plate with even more painstaking care than before. Every component was a masterstroke, each paso doble between you and your crew unfolding in step.

You barely registered Thomason's presence hovering nearby, posture radiating tension and scrutiny, as you slid the final centerpiece across for his inspection. A short eternity seemed to pass as the steely-eyed veteran examined the plate with unsparing intensity from all angles.

At last, he gave a single deferential nod before calling out the fire to the dining room. "Chef's centerpiece...walking!"

A rousing swell of applause rolled back from beyond the partition as you straightened up, only now allowing the descending sense of accomplishment to wash over you fully. It was done - Harry's groundbreaking, avant-garde vision had been executed to utter perfection.

The surrounding kitchen area seemed to slowly reanimate as the rest of the corps d'équipe emerged from their own hypnotrance–states, exchanging tired grins and backslaps of congratulations. For his part, Thomason wore an expression that bordered on...approving?You could never tell.

"You pulled it off, kid," he rumbled in that trademark gravelly baritone. The stocky chef's clap on your shoulder managed to convey impressed respect more clearly than any flowery praise. "Flawless service from top to bottom. I'll be sure to pass that along to Chef Patino when I touch base."

Your face must have reflected the gratified shock you felt at the gruff compliment, as Thomason's mouth twisted wryly before adding, "Don't look so damn stunned. You did good work holding it all together out there tonight. Real good work."

With that, he gave your shoulder one final squeeze before turning to address the rest of the crew and applauds rippled through the kitchen area. But you barely heard any of it over the dull roar in your ears - the mixture of bone-deep exhaustion and sheer disbelief at what you'd all just managed to pull off against seemingly insurmountable odds.

Gradually, the bustle of post-service breakdown routines fired up around you. But you remained still in the eye of that storm for several long moments, simply allowing the profound weight of your accomplishment tonight to sink in fully.

Despite the challenges, the unexpected crises that had threatened to derail everything...your tenacity and the depth of your training had ultimately prevailed. Harry's faith in you had been rewarded with an unmitigated triumph.

The realization brought a surge of fierce pride, tempered only by the hope that your mentor had managed to find some shred of comfort amidst his own turmoil tonight. You knew Harry well enough to be certain he would be dissecting every component, evaluating each nuance of the dish's execution with his trademark intensity even from afar.

And suddenly, you very much needed to hear his voice - to fill him in on all the details, reassure him that you'd kept your word right down to crossing every final T. To...well, to simply share in this significant victory with the man whose driving ambition and belief had made it all possible.

As if summoned by sheer force of will, your phone began buzzing from your back pocket with a familiar caller ID flashing. Stepping aside from the lingering chaos, you swiped to accept the call with your heart lodged squarely in your throat.

"Harry? It's me..."

The voice on the other end sounded tinny and wrung-out, yet still utterly suffused with that unmistakable gravel-rough timbre. "How'd it go, kiddo?"

Despite the bone-weary fatigue dragging at your every muscle, you felt a grin tugging at the corners of your mouth as you took in the sight of your crew unabashedly celebrating their collective win. "See for yourself."

With a few quick taps, you switched the call over to FaceTime, angling the camera to capture the wild scene surrounding you. Raucous cheers and whoops of victory filled the feed as Harry got an eyeful of his triumphant kitchen corps living it up.

For a long moment, he was silent on the other end, drinking in the rowdy scene. Then, his low chuckle finally filtered through, slightly watery but brimming with unmistakable pride.

"That's my crew," Harry rasped in a voice gone thick. "Well done, team. Well done."

You grinned fiercely at the screen, willing him to feel every ounce of your conviction as you responded. "We did you proud, Chef. Start to finish."

And just like that, the shaky exhale he released said everything his gruff words couldn't. For all his outward bravado and grit, your mentor's steadfast belief had been vindicated tonight - and his faith in you rewarded beyond even his own expectations.

For the first time in weeks, that shaky tension seemed to finally loosen its grip on both of you. Though the road ahead might still be fraught, this evening's triumph had forged an unbreakable bond of shared understanding and trust.

The entire grueling process of preparing for and executing the ambitious centerpiece dish had pushed both your skills, stamina and mental toughness to their limits. But instead of fracturing under such tremendous shared pressure, your mentor-mentee dynamic had been distilled down to its essential core - that of two committed culinary artists striving relentlessly towards the same creative vision, and ultimately emerging unified in the wake of that lofty achievement.

In that moment, any unresolved tensions or lingering frissons of attraction between you were rendered almost quaint, overwhelmed by the profound sense of creative synergy and hard-won victory. Those undercurrents would inevitably resurface later once the high had faded. But for now, you could simply bask in the warm glow of knowing you'd risen to every challenge thrown your way and come out on top.

Harry must have sensed the shift in your demeanor, the way your posture had relaxed slightly without sacrificing any of that fierce determination. His gruff chuckle sounded again through the phone's speaker, drawing your attention back to his careworn but glowing expression.

"Listen, pet..." he began in that trademark rasp, once again hitting you with the nickname that made your heart skip a beat,. "I gotta go take care of some stuff on this end. But we're gonna crack open a couple bottles when I'm back, you and me. We've earned it after pulling off a goddamn miracle like this one."

The very thought of the two of you sharing drinks and cutting loose for once, without the weight of impending culinary obligations hanging overhead, struck you as incredibly appealing after tonight's intensity. A warm smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you gave an emphatic nod.

"You know I'm gonna hold you to that, Chef. I'm thinking top-shelf stuff too, none of that bottom-rung swill."

Harry threw back his head with another peal of laughter. "You got it, you earned it. Gimme a couple days to get things sorted and I'll take you somewhere swanky to celebrate, on me. My way of saying thanks for proving me right about you, Y/n."

Before you could respond, Harry's gaze grew pensive, amusement fading slightly as he searched your expression with uncharacteristic earnestness. "And I mean it, you know. Not just about the drinks, but...well, you really came through in the clutch tonight. I knew you had the skills to pull it off, but seeing you actually do it against those crazy odds? You exceeded every expectation. I couldn't be prouder if you were my own flesh and blood."

You felt your cheeks warming at the uncommon depth of sincerity in his gravelly voice. Though Harry had never been one for emotional vulnerability, in this moment you could see the profound gratitude shining through loud and clear.

"That really means a lot coming from you, Harry," you managed in a slightly hushed tone, momentarily rendered speechless by the unexpected warmth radiating from him. "You know I'd never want to let you down, especially when you were counting on me most."

The tender moment stretched out in weighted silence, intimate currents flowing back and forth even through the crackle of the video feed. Until eventually, Harry seemed to resurface from that unguarded well of sincerity, giving a slightly blustery clearing of his throat.

"Well anyway, you did the heavy lifting tonight," he rallied in his typical all-business timbre, the hoarse bravado back in full force. "I'll leave you and the crew to enjoy your big victory bash. Just try not to get too out of hand with the partying."

He started to shift away from the camera, clearly preparing to disengage, when his hazel-eyed gaze flicked back to pin you with an unreadable look. A ghost of a smirk played around the edges of his mouth as he seemed to drink you in through the video feed.

"Oh, and one more thing, darlin'..."

You felt your breath catch at the rich, velvety timbre Harry imbued that endearment with - a departure from the casual, teasing way he usually deployed such pet names. This particular iteration seemed to caress something deeper, more weighted between you.

"I'm real proud of how you rose above and killed it tonight," he murmured in that same honeyed rasp that raised goosebumps along your skin. His gaze raked over you with unmistakable heat and intent. "Showed me that laser-focused mental strength and fortitude I always suspected was in there."

Harry shook his tousled head slowly, lips still curved in that secretive half-smile. "Gotta admit, I clearly underestimated you in the past, darlin'. Won't be making that mistake again."

The suggestive timbre in which he issued that statement was utterly at odds with the mentor-protegee context you'd been operating in mere moments ago. You felt your breath hitch as a warmth bloomed across your cheeks, suddenly hyper-aware that you were still surrounded by your raucous crew celebrating nearby.

Surely you were reading far too much into Harry's words and tone...except his eyes were gleaming with a combination of heat and challenge as they roamed over your features in a way that made you feel stripped bare. As if he knew full well the dizzying, electrifying effect he could have on you - even through a mere video call - and was shamelessly exercising that power.

You opened your mouth to respond, though what you could possibly say to that molten statement you had no idea. Thankfully, Harry seemed to recognize he was quickly veering into the old inappropriate territory and reigned himself in with a rough throat-clearing.

"Anyway, go have fun with the crew and I'll holler at you in a couple days once I get things sorted out on this end," he concluded, all traces of that heated bravado tucked away once more behind his typical gruff exterior. "You've more than earned it, darlin'."

Another searing look accompanied the purring emphasis he gave that endearment before Harry flashed you a stunningly lopsided grin - then the video feed clicked off, leaving you slightly dazed and flustered in its wake.

A long moment passed where you simply stared at the blank screen, cheeks still burning as your mind raced over the cadence of that parting exchange. From the heartfelt gratitude and rare showering of praise...to that inexplicably molten aside loaded with suggestion, it had all left you feeling deliciously unmoored and off-kilter.

You remained in that uncertain headspace for a while longer, the buzz of your crew's raucous celebration providing a soundtrack as the hours ticked by. Though you made a concerted effort to remain present, to revel in this hard-won moment of glory alongside your teammates, part of your consciousness couldn't help but keep circling back to that searing parting remark from Harry.

You kept thinking about the way he spoke, wondering if there was a hidden meaning behind his words. Suddenly, your long-suppressed feelings for the charismatic chef surged with volcanic intensity, consuming every rational thought until only one truth remained.

You decided you were done hiding your desire for Harry– done keeping that ravenous wanting locked away in the name of professionalism.The next time you saw your mentor, you promised yourself you would be completely honest. No more beating around the bush. Only complete, blazing honesty.

You would openly admit the burning attraction you'd felt since first meeting his intense gaze months ago. You would confront the growing tension from all his suggestive comments.

No more hiding behind being professional. You would put everything out in the open, once and for all. Either Harry felt the same fiery passion...or he didn't, and you could finally move on.

Once and for all.

But the need to finally uncover the truth burned within you, even if it meant risking everything and leaving your heart in ashes - because the constant wondering and uncertainty had become a suffocating torment you could no longer endure. Making that decision lifted a weight off your shoulders momentarily, but you steeled yourself knowing the real challenge still lay ahead, a daunting path that could either lead you to euphoric fulfilment or utter devastation.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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yoonivy · 1 day

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my house of stone, your ivy grows (and now i’m covered in you); part 7.

aemond targaryen x fem!reader

genre. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, drama, angst, fluff, smut. it’s a y/n fic but no use of y/n. heavily inspired by taylor swift’s ‘ivy’.

When a fierce blizzard ravages the North, a certain dragon rider gets caught up in it and crashes onto Bear Island.

And right to you, the youngest daughter of House Mormont.

warnings. angst

01| 02 | 03 | 04| 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11

----

“Welcome back… Lady Mormont.”

Time has frozen.

At least that is what it feels like as soon as you laid your eyes on Aemond.

Your mouth parts after a dry swallow, as if parched for so long and his visage is the water that will sustain you. All you could do is stare upon him and drink in your fill.

You have thought about this moment happening for so long. Of what you will do when you see him again. Yet none of your previous fantasies seem appropriate anymore — not with his arm wrapped around your dearest friend’s waist and your husband so close by your side.

So you just stare, open faced and vulnerable.

The look on your face has Aemond narrowing his gaze. Quizzical or suspicious, you cannot tell.

(Shouldn’t you be able to tell? You used to read him like an open book.)

But you can only guess that he is as astonished as you are by this surprising reunion.

“Actually, your Grace,” Jeremy pipes up. “My wife goes by Lady Strong now.”

Aemond hums noncommittally and does not even spare Jeremy a glance, keeping his gaze and attention solely on you. It is as if he did not even hear him, reminding you of the time Aemond rudely interrupted your dance with Jeremy all those years ago.

Perhaps your husband remembers it as well. He goes rigid beside you.

So you slip your hand into his, meeting his gaze with a reassuring smile. Jeremy returns it, his finger flexing against yours before he squeezes your hand tightly.

The prince does not miss even a millisecond of this exchange, and when you turn back to face him, you are met with the most unenthused scowl.

There was a time when you could have just pinched it off his face with a laugh. Where did that time go? How did it end up like this?

It makes your stomach turn how strange this feels. It hurts so much… but all you could do is grin and bear it.

You pull your hand away from Jeremy to curtsy low towards Aemond, finally remembering that you had not even formally acknowledged him yet.

“Prince Aemond, it’s wonderful to see you again,” you say with your head dipped low, eyes on the ground.

“Is it, really?” You hear him question. “I apologize if I find that hard to believe, Lady Strong. You didn’t even invite me to your wedding! Did my invitation get lost somewhere on the way to me?”

Though it may sound lighthearted, you hear the subtle accusation in it. It has you flicking your gaze up at him, meeting his eye. Despite his smirk, you can clearly see the hurt in him. Hopefully he can see the pain you have been carrying as well.

“How do you two know each other?” Alys questions, her confused gaze darting between you and Aemond.

Your mouth parts, about to answer… But the words would not come out, dying at the tip of your tongue.

What can you even say? What are you and Aemond now?

“It is the duty of the Prince Regent to know the people that lord over our glorious lands,” Aemond supplies. “So of course I know about the Mormonts of Bear Island. I had visited a couple times as a child and got acquainted with the Mormonts,” he turns to you with a tight smile, hands clasped together behind his back as he dips his body your way, “isn’t that right… Lady Strong?”

It is not entirely wrong, but it did not seem right either. The nonchalant and broad way he explained your relationship felt so impersonal that you cannot help but feel a strong pang of sadness deep in your heart.

“Right,” you answer hoarsely, taking a swallow since your throat felt tight and blinking rapidly since your eyes are threatening to water. The latter does not work, but you are blessed by a distraction by the name of Talia. The young Lady Strong runs to you and you bend to your knees to catch her, hugging her closely and your tears disappearing into her curls.

It did not take you long to realize that the little girl is crying too.

“Oh, angel…” you coo sympathetically, pulling away to wipe the tears on her cheeks with the pad of your thumb on both sides of her face. Your face falls as you take in her bloodshot eyes and look of absolute distraught — it’s clear that her tears are beyond just seeing you and Jeremy again. It is something else.

Unbeknownst to you, Aemond watches with a knot in his stomach, looking between you and the little girl and wondering if she’s… he looks towards Jeremy, then back at the little girl.

They have many similarities — chestnut brown curls and honey brown eyes. Definitely favouring the Strong features and yet none of the Mormonts.

There is a bitter taste in Aemond’s mouth, his mouth pulling back in a scowl.

In another world, a better world, she would have had pearlescent silver hair and your eyes.

The Prince Regent shakes away the thought just as Jeremy picks up the little girl, the both of you coddling her closely, asking her what is wrong.

The girl is in shambles, unable to explain as she stutters and hiccups through her tears.

“What about ‘We have a lot to discuss’ did you lot not understand?” Comes a booming voice.

Everyone turns to the clearly vexed Ser Simon, who had just noticed that no one had been following him.

“Apologies, grandfather,” your husband says, passing the little girl over to you.

Ser Simon’s hard stare did not move away from you, disapproving as always. What have you done now, you wonder. “And Talia. I told you to stop with the tears. Crying to your aunt and uncle will not bring your father and mother back. You have to grow up now.”

A soft gasp startles out of you at the sudden devastating news, looking over to find your husband’s heartbreaking expression. His mouth opens, as if he was about to ask his grandfather to repeat what he had just said, like he could not believe what he had just heard, but no words came out.

Your gaze sharpens into a heated glare at the man who spoke the deplorable words, holding the little girl more closely as she sobs against your chest, though she tries to keep it quiet this time.

An agonizing pain throbs your heart, for your niece and your husband.

You step closer towards Jeremy, hoping your presence is comforting enough. You can’t imagine how he is feeling. If you lost any of your siblings…

You could not even think of that right now.

Behind you, Aemond lets out a breath of relief that he had not known he had been holding.

---

You are unsure if it is because you are a woman or because the castellan of Harrenhal does not care much for you, but you were not allowed to take part in the discussion. Frustratingly, you think it might be because of both reasons.

The sun is already starting to set and yet your husband still has not returned to your chamber. He has already been gone for a few hours and it has you anxiously pacing around the room.

Harrenhal had been attacked — that you can conclude by the injured and the repairs being done around the castle. But what of the riverlands? Or Hornhill? If a clash had broken out in Harrenhal, surely those areas would not have been left untouched.

Worrying your lips, you stare out the window, wishing you had the gift of sight to see miles and miles beyond.

Remembering Forrest’s letter to Braeden, a sinking feeling of dread settles in your stomach

Are your siblings alright? The invisible strings that ties you all together seem to be pulled taut and loose at the same time. But you are sure it is just in your head. As much as you try to put on a smile and stay optimistic, you are always just worried now, always stuck on the worst case scenarios.

The door of the room opens just before you go mad with any more dreadful thoughts.

Turning away from your spot by the window, you watch as Jeremy steps in, weary eyed and appearing more exhausted than the last time you saw him. You meet him halfway across the room, your steps hurried while his are slow. When close enough, you reach for his arms as his own find their place on your waist.

Before you could even get a word out, Jeremy's face crumbles, it is as if he had been holding back this whole time he had been gone. He finds home with you, his face hidden in the crook of your shoulder, breaks down while he tells you through aching sobs about the fate of his brother, his friends, and many other people he had grown up with due the attack of the Blacks.

As you hold him tightly, you tell yourself that in due time, Jeremy will tell you everything you need to know. But for now, you lead him to your marital bed and let him seek solace in your comforting embrace.

---

A couple days pass and you were correct, Jeremy tells you all that he knows once he is ready. He informs you that the Greens are brokering a peace deal with the Riverland houses, and that he is sure that the Tully’s will accept it. Though about the Reach – and Horn Hill, specifically – he had no news. Nothing at all. You don’t know whether that should relieve you or worry you more.

Your husband has no reason to lie to you.

So could Forrest’s intel be wrong?

It does not make sense seeing as your older brother is part of the Queensguards, but you desperately hope that is the truth.

You decide to take your mind off it for now before you go mad.

There are still repairs to be done. Injured people to nurture back to health. And the children — oh you know they would love for a distraction and normalcy for this confusing yet terrifying time, and resuming your art lessons would surely bring that.

You’ve neglected your self appointed duties since your return to Harrenhal, only leaving your bedchamber a few hours a day before you find yourself running back to the safety of it.

It must be exhaustion from the long travel.

It must be lightheadedness from the remembrance of death all around you.

It must be the feeling of vivid violet like goosebumps on your skin, the wisp of blanche from the corners of your vision —

But you do not want to hide away anymore. So you start your day at the medical bay, offering your aid wherever the maesters see fit.

You make makeshift gauze out of old yet newly washed clothing. You help dress wounds. You feed those who are not able to by themselves. And when one of the maesters needed more dreamwine, you offered to be the one to get more.

That is how you find yourself standing like a statue right at the open apothecary door.

It had not been your intention. But you realize as soon as you step into the apothecary and freeze suddenly in place when you see your dear friend, that you had been avoiding her.

You have seen Alys around. Out the window of your bedchamber as she walks across the courtyard, the prince regent by her side. In the dining hall, the two of them sharing a meal. In the common room, absorbed in reading separately while sitting so intimately side by side that Alys was practically on his lap. Wherever Alys is, Aemond is surely close by.

Perhaps that is the reason why you had not dared to approach her.

But right now Alys is surprisingly alone and none the wiser about your guilty stagnant hovering by the doorway. The raven haired beauty is too preoccupied with her work.

Your eyes water at the sight of her, mouth pulling down into a wavering pout. You miss her so, so much. Yet you’ve been hiding from her because of what? A long lost love who you have not seen in years ?

You’ve moved on. You really have… With Jeremy.

It is clear that Aemond has moved on as well — and with your best friend. You should be happy for them.

No. You are happy for them.

… Aren’t you?

You do not have the time to reflect on your conflicting feelings — not when you hear your name being called, and when you look up, you meet Alys fox-like gaze. There is an uncharacteristic small yet kind smile on her lips, one she reserves just for you. “… what are you doing standing over there?”

You clear your throat and put on a smile, finally taking a step into the room. “I apologize. I did not want to bother you.”

Alys shakes her head.

“You are never a bother, my lady… Actually, I was going to seek you out after I let this batch of sweetsleep simmer,” she says as you make your way beside her.

Close now but not too close, you watch her stir the pot in front of her one last time before putting a lid on it. She turns to you then, “I finished the medicine for your father last night and sent it out early this morning.”

She leans in closer, and you catch the gleam of mischievousness in her eyes as she whispers, “threatened the courier to make haste as well, so hopefully it will get to your father sooner rather than later.”

With those words, every disconcerting thought you were having fades away, replaced once again with only appreciation and admiration for Alys.

An emotional feeling of gratitude overtakes you as you take a hold of her hands. “Thank you, Alys. I don't even know what I would do without you. I will forever be in your debt.”

Alys shakes her head with a soft smile, reaching up to gently tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear before she cups your face. “I want nothing from you except to know that your mind is at ease.”

You almost burst into tears. Instead, you tackle her into a tight hug.

“I really wanted to lessen your burdens,” Alys says, her hand stroking in a comforting manner against your back. “Especially after what happened here and at Hornhill.”

Her words give you a pause. You rear back slowly, meeting her eyes, your face pinched in confusion. “.... What… What happened at Hornhill?”

Now it is Alys’ turn to look bewildered. “Jeremy had not told you?”

Panic starts to set in you, heartbeat racing and breathing near hyperventilating.

Told you what? Was there something to tell ?

“My Alys. There you are, I’ve been looking for you,” you hear distantly. It barely registers, not with the ringing in your ears.

Alys ignores the newcomer as well and murmurs your name, full of worry.

You step away from her, clearly already distracted with the thoughts in your head when you tell her, “I should go… have a word with Jeremy.”

“Yes. Of course. I’ll see you soon?”

You squeeze her hand once more, offering a smile and a nod before you turn away to leave the room.

As you pass by Aemond, you bow towards him though you quickly keep on walking.

You don’t see how his hand reaches out in an attempt to stop you. Though before his fingertips could touch you, he drops his hand lamely by his side.

The Prince Regent keeps his eye on you until he can not see you any longer. The ache in his chest grows.

Another opportunity to be in your presence — gone , just like that.

Disappointment does not even begin to cover it.

---

You find Jeremy at the training yard.

Sometimes you forget how much the name Strong fits with your husband, when all he ever is sweet and soft-spoken with you.

But as you watch him now, it is the one word you can think of to describe him. Strong , a solid and powerful force to be reckoned with.

A protector.

Is that why he had refrained from telling you about Hornhill? To protect you?

Jeremy barely budges when the man he is dueling with elbows him in the stomach, the abs on his stomach clenching as it absorbs the blow. He then easily turns things around in his favor, shoving the man to ground with a grunt and stabbing his sword right into the dirt beside the man’s head, thus ending the fight.

A second later, the seriousness of the duel dissipates when they both laugh at the same time, Jeremy offering a hand to help the man up.

Your hands come together to applaud for your husband, and his attention turns towards where you stand behind the fence. Meeting your gaze, his mouth widens into the most handsome smile.

He jogs towards you, and you can not help but lose your breath at the sight of him. The way his bare upper body glistens with sweat and how his muscles are taut from the practice…

Swiftly, you shake the thoughts away that the heat between your legs try to distract you with. You remind yourself that you are here for an explanation and not anything else.

“Hey,” Jeremy greets, leaning across the fence that divides the two of you to kiss your cheek. “You’re up and about early this morning.”

“Thought I’d better start doing my part to help out,” you say with a shrug.

He hums, reaching out to lay his hand on your shoulder, his thumb grazing along your clavicle.

Ever since arriving back, Jeremy has been more physically affectionate. Always finding reasons to touch you, or sometimes, for no reason at all. You have a feeling you know what caused the sudden change.

In truth, you had been enjoying the newfound possessiveness.

Except right now. You can’t stomach his touch at the moment knowing he had been lying to you.

So you shrug his hand away, causing Jeremy to tilt his head and narrow his eyes in concern.

“Are you done with training?” You question, before he could get a word out.

He glances behind him, and even though he does not seem to be — the others still clashing with one another — he turns back to you and says, “I could be.”

Nodding, you implore, “Please. We need to talk.”

With that, he jumps over the fence with practiced ease, and you pull him to a quiet corner of the courtyard.

Alone and with no one around to eavesdrop, you get straight to the point.

“I heard about Hornhill.”

The way Jeremy’s face falls in shock and the hard swallow he takes tells you everything you needed to know. But you press anyway, “Did you know?”

A long moment of silence passes before he nods sheepishly.

Your heart wrenches. “Jeremy… why ?”

At the sound of your voice breaking, his does too when he starts to speak, “I… I did not want to worry you, my love. Believe me, if I knew any news about Jorah and Renee — good or bad — I would have told you right away. But, as of right now, I have nothing, just as I told you before,” he takes a hold of your hands, eyes pleading for you to understand why he had told the little white lie, pleading for you to forgive him. “The Tarly’s have been sending letters to families of fallen soldiers and villagers, and if Jorah was… gone , we would have gotten word of it by now.”

Red rims around his regretful gaze, and you know all too well the grief that had caused it.

It had laid with you in bed every night since arriving at Harrenhal. It had your husband screaming in his sleep, dreaming of nothing but blood on the lifeless bodies of the people he loved.

“Please, please, forgive me,” your husband begs, his honey brown eyes filled with tears. “I just did not want you to feel the way that I did — like I still do.”

Your lips thin, contemplating his words. Then you lace your hand with his.

“Then tell me everything you know, my heart. And don’t spare any details this time.”

It’s not full forgiveness, but it’s a start.

---

Aemond finds you in the kitchen, led there by the sound of your melodic and lively laughter drifting through the cold and bleak halls.

He tried so hard not to seek you out. But his heart would always somehow lead him to where you are.

It’s a conflict in his head. Yes, he still loathes you. Of course, he is still bitter. And there is no doubt that he still resents every inch of you.

But for the past few weeks, every single day since the two of you find yourselves dwelling in the same place, Aemond’s subconscious would somehow find the time to search for you in the largest castle in all of Westeros and its hundreds of rooms.

The arduous task that he gives himself never deters him, for just one look at you — even for a passing second — is enough.

( You’re lying , the voice in his head mockingly laughs. You could never hate her and it is never enough. )

He stomps down the voice.

So he never dared to come too close. Always just a little out of your sight. Drinking you in from afar.

It's just you today, he notes as he watches in the shadows by the open doorway of the kitchen. No husband of yours following after you like a dog.

There are a group of children surrounding you though, all in awe as you slice up the pie you had made with their assistance.

The scent of the freshly baked pastry flows to him, causing a wave of nostalgia that pangs his heart.

Aemond remembers the many times you and him had also helped your mother and Dorothea with making the Mormont’s special apple pie.

He remembers peeling and slicing up the apples with you, offering up the slice most perfectly cut for you to pop in your mouth. Remembers accidentally dropping too much cinnamon into a small bowl, causing it to dust up into the air and into your noses, stinging your eyes as you sneeze and laugh and cough and whine out his name. Remembers sitting shoulder to shoulder, taking that first bite of the warm and delicious tart apple filling at the same time with a simultaneous hum of content, your elbow nudging him as your brows lift and your lips grinning as if to say we made that.

Smiling unbeknownst to himself, Aemond does not realize he got lost in the memories until the children are rushing past him. They are too engrossed and excitedly chattering amongst themselves that they do not see him standing there.

But someone does notice him.

“Prince Aemond?”

Your honeyed, sweet voice. His name.

He has to take a sharp intake of air, his heart stuttering underneath its hollowed cage.

Although he is the one who sought you out and this is what he wanted, to be alone with you — it is too much.

(It is never enough.)

Plastering on a tight smile, Aemond turns towards you.

The way he sets his eye on you has you feeling nervous. It is piercing.

“I apologize for intruding, my Lady,” he drawls. “I was led here by the scent of the famous Mormont apple pie.”

But his gaze does not linger away from you for even a second.

“You are not intruding, your Grace…” you say, timidly twisting your fingers together. You glance back at the wooden counter behind where the pie rested, “Would you like a slice…?” Then you wince, remembering — ”Actually, there’s only one left and I’m afraid I already took a bite of it. But if that troubles you, I can make another—”

“I don’t mind sharing. We’ve done it before,” he interrupts you. A smirk starts to pull his lips. “…I’ve devoured yours, remember?”

A shuddering breath escapes you, your face blazing with heat.

You don’t believe he is talking about pies anymore.

Turning away swiftly after clearing your throat, you don’t dignify the comment with an answer. It was highly inappropriate. But that doesn’t stop your chest from tightening at the image he put in your head.

As you fuss around to plate up the last slice of pie, you feel his gaze following you. Leering so intensely that the crawl of it over your skin causes you goosebumps.

What was the word he used again? Devoured?

Yes, it feels like he is devouring you whole .

You are so in your head and nonplussed about your every move that you don’t even realize he was standing behind you — until you feel the weight of his touch on your lower back.

They say that lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice, but Aemond’s touch is as electric and all too familiar.

It causes a shiver to run down your spine, and you quickly flinch away from him as if struck.

You fix an affronted glare his way, all it does is spread that infuriating smirk on his lips once again.

If you didn’t know any better, he seems to be enjoying the fact that he is making you both nervous and agitated.

“Shall we see if this compares to your mother’s and Dorothea’s?” He questions, tone cheeky, as he grabs a fork and cuts off a small piece.

“The children loved it.”

“They’re children ,” he remarks flippantly. The glare would have been the permanent fixture on your face if he had not said your name. But he did, and so your expression slacks, mouth gaping at the sound of your name on his tongue. It has been so long since you’ve heard his tongue wrapped around the syllables — he has always made your name sound like it is the prettiest song.

You are not sure if he had meant the familiarity or if it just slipped through accidentally. But he keeps prattling on, “They’ll eat anything tooth-achingly sweet and claim it is the Gods’ gift to mankind.”

“Wait a second…” Laughter fills the room, and you place a hand over your mouth to try to muffle it. “I think I recall this one dragon prince who had that revelation many, many times… He never learned though, not even when he would toss and turn all night because his tummy hurts and I had to keep him company, reading his favorite stories until he fell asleep.”

An annoyed huff through his nose is the only acknowledgment you get. It has you giggling until he brings the fork up into his mouth.

At the first bite, Aemond chews slowly, his expression giving away nothing.

Anxiously waiting for the verdict, you begin to bite down at the corner of your lip.

You are not like your mother or your sister. Cooking and baking does not come second nature to you. Even boiled eggs are not safe in your care if you are not careful.

On your visit to Bear Island, you would be by your mother’s side every time she was in the kitchen, making sure you follow the family recipes exactly how she does them.

In all honesty, you have been scared that you will never measure up. Terrified that something will happen and you will never taste anything like what your mother makes ever again.

But then Aemond lets out a steady hum, his eye closing as his head tilts up to the ceiling — captivating your attention so easily. His jaw is working like he is savoring it. And when he swallows, his neck — his beautiful neck — bobs elegantly.

Ethereal.

Aemond breathes in deeply, then opens his eye — lashes fluttering prettily — and sets it on you.

“It’s good,” he compliments, in a tone so soft you almost thought you had dreamt it.

“It tastes exactly how I remember it.”

He smiles then, sweet, unlike the arrogant or cruel smirks that only graces his features lately.

It is the smile of your Aemond.

Just that one smile was enough to break down the walls that had built itself between you two — at least for you.

So you gift him one of your own. Wide, and brilliant, and blinding.

The air in his lungs catches. The beating of his heart stops.

Who said he needed his sight anymore? As if you are the sun, he is willing to stare upon you until he loses function of his remaining eye.

The intruding thought does not last long.

Aemond glances away, cursing himself. Cursing you.

Is that really all it takes for him to forgive everything you had done to him?

A pretty smile, and nothing else?

Irritated at himself, he pushes the plate a little too forcefully towards you.

“Oh.” You frown. “You don’t want any more?”

One look of your little pout has Aemond squeezing his hand into a tight fist.

Weak. He is so weak.

Unflexing his hand after he takes a moment to calm down, he sighs. “We’re sharing, remember?”

Tentatively, you break off a tiny piece to put in your mouth before nudging the plate back in his direction.

Aemond rolls his eye, but does the same, only taking a little piece and then offering it back to you.

This goes on for a while. The room is quiet save for the scraping of the fork on the plate.

It is strange being here with Aemond like this. You almost think you might be dreaming. But he is real — your many secretive glances at him from the corners of your eyes made sure of it.

The silence is killing you. Many unsaid things linger in the air, but you don’t know where to start. There was a time when you talked to him about anything and everything, now you are rendered mute in case of saying anything wrong or idiotic.

Does he even want you to speak to him?

All the letters you have sent went unanswered, perhaps he wants it to stay that way.

“I heard you went back home for a little while.”

In breaking the silence, Aemond also tears down your overthinking.

There is a sudden lightness in your chest when you take in that he wants to talk to you.

As you were about to answer, you remember you are still chewing, so your hand comes up to cover your mouth as you nod to answer him instead.

Glancing down, Aemond huffs out a soft chuckle because of the look on your face.

Lovely , might have been a passing thought, but he is trying to drown out the voice in his head at the moment.

“How was that…?” He questions carefully. “How’s your family?”

“It was…” It takes you a moment to find the words on how you felt being back home — so many emotions overwhelmed you every single day you were on the island. With a faint smile, you finally settled on, “… something I really needed.”

You tell Aemond about your short time back on Bear Island. About your niece and nephew, about Braeden fully taking over as the Head of House Mormont, and so much more. He stands there and listens, hanging onto your every word.

“I finally had the chance to tell my mother this… thing that I was too afraid to tell her through letters.”

It flashes in your mind — your palms pressed on your stomach, your tears of distress, your mother holding onto you while she murmured it’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with you, don’t you ever think that, my darling.

You swallow the lump in your throat caused by the memory.

“And seeing my father again…”

Maybe for the last time.

This time, the passing thought makes a few tears fall.

Quickly, you wipe them away. “I apologize… I had not meant to dump this all on you.”

The awkward chuckle you let out dies in your throat when you feel Aemond step closer towards you. You glance wide eyed up at him through wet lashes just as his knuckles graze gently over your cheek.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says, catching the last of your tears. His touch lingers on your skin for a bit longer before he drops his hand — but his half-lidded gaze is still set on you.

You tuck your hair behind your ear nervously.

“And what about you, your Grace?”

“You’ve probably heard most of it.”

“Perhaps,” you answer. “But I’d rather hear it from you.”

Aemond lets out a low hum. “Then where shall I begin? With my brother, the supposed almighty and chosen king, and yet he’s injured beyond repair. Or my sister? There’s not much to say. She pretty much lost her mind further after losing her son. And I can’t forget about my mother…”

The look on your face is far too pathetic, Aemond thinks in disgust. So overtly pitying it makes his skin crawl. It makes him turn away from you, shamefaced.

Don’t look to me like that — you have no idea what I’ve done to you and your family.

“I guess we’ve both missed a lot,” he comments with a sardonic laugh. “I suppose that is what happens when people drift apart.”

“I guess so…” you reply, frowning.

But you don’t want it to stay that way. Your heart hurts thinking about it.

“Aemond?” He looks towards you, catching your watery gaze again. “Can we…” Your hand grips on the edge of the wooden table, fingers tapping anxiously. “Can we start over?”

The request takes Aemond aback, gaze narrowing and head tilting in disbelief.

Start over?

Just like that?

Like the past years did not matter? Like all his sleepless nights and anguish over you was for nothing?

Aemond nearly scoffs out loud — but then he really thinks it over.

Starting over and all that it entails… Being able to be by your side, to talk to you, to make you laugh once again… Which is everything he is secretly yearning for. As much as he loathes to admit it, it is true.

The past few weeks have been sweet torture for the Prince Regent. You were all his rotten mind could think about, distracting every other thought in his head because of the fact you are finally so close.

But to truly start over, everything should be laid out on the table, correct?

The damning confession is there, on the tip of his tongue…

Aemond bites back the words in cowardice, too afraid to face your ire. You despising him is the last thing he wants. Especially now that you are actually speaking to him, looking upon him with those eyes of yours he used to worship.

So instead, he sucks in a breath and nods.

“Alright… Let us start over.”

And when your pretty lips break into the sweetest smile he has ever seen, Aemond decides that although he made the wrong choice, it is one he does not regret making.

Aemond just wants to bask in your sun for a little bit longer before the inevitable happens — the day you find out the truth and hate him with all your guts until his final breath.

Is that truly so wrong of him?

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #hotd imagine #hotd smut #aemond #aemond targaryen #hotd

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imshii-kin · 3 days

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Chapter # 5 Cinematic

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Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 (You are here)

The whole tradition of cinema is dominated, really, by films about good guys versus bad guys, good versus evil. But we have very few films about the nature of evil itself. - Joshua Oppenheimer

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Jon lies on his bed, staring at nothing in particular. It had been a few weeks since Y/n went with the Waynes, and he had to admit, the apartment felt empty without her.

Shifting around, Jon reaches for the picture frame on his nightstand. A soft smile spreads on his face as he looks at a seven-year-old Y/n standing with the Justice League, a contagious smile on her face.

"I wonder what she's doing now.."

──●◎●──

Y/n stands at the front doors of the manor, watching as Clark pulls into the driveway, discomfort bubbling in her gut.

Something told her this meeting wasn't going to go well.

"Y/n!" Clark quickly exited his car, rushing to Y/n and scooping her into his arm. "Oh Y/n, I'm sorry the others couldn't come and visit. They were too busy with work and school, but if the chance arises, I'll make sure they make it next time." Clark reassured the girl.

"Oh uh, that's good, thanks," Y/n muttered, leaving Clark's grip.

Clark frowns at Y/n's distant behavior, shooting a look at Bruce before smiling again. "I'm here to spend time with you Y/n, maybe try and jog your memory..." He reaches into his pocket and grabs two movie tickets. "See! I got us tickets to your favorite movie!"

Y/n takes one of these tickets. 'The Incredibles' strangely fits in this world.

A sigh resonates from behind Y/n, Bruce frowning at the two of them. "Clark, you know I can't let you do that. It's too soon to be trying anything yet."

Clark glares harshly at Bruce, "I don't see how you can stop me Wayne, and I'm pretty sure I know what's best for my kid."

Grabbing Y/n's hand, Clark drags her back to his car, ignoring Bruce's protest.

Clark makes Y/n sit in the front seat before going around the front and entering the driver's side. As if trying to comfort her, Clark gives Y/n a side hug as he leaves the Wayne manors driveway.

──●◎●──

Minutes go by in uncomfortable silence, the radio station humming some random song quietly, the low hum of the car engine filling the space between them. Clark, gripped the steering wheel tightly, his eyes darting from the road to Y/n. She was staring blankly out the window, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the glass.

"Y/n," Clark began, "I know you don't remember, but the last time we went to the movies together was your 13th birthday. You wanted to see the Incredibles then."

Y/n frowned, a knot forming in her stomach, guilt filling her, though she didn't know why.

"I thought... maybe if we watched it again, it might help jog some memories," he continued, the words coming out in a rush. "It's always been your favorite. You'd watch it over and over, even when I begged for something else." He let out a strained chuckle that seemed to contradict the radio's happy tunes.

Y/n didn't answer, continuing to look out the window at the passing buildings. Clark's heart ached with a dull, relentless throb. His mind raced back to the days before whatever this was stole his daughter away. He remembered her laughter, her curiosity, the way she would pepper him with questions about everything and anything.

Now, Y/n couldn't even look at him. Desperation gnawed at him, a dark shadow lurking at the edges of his mind. He needed to bring her back. He needed to see that spark in her eyes again, to hear her laugh, to know that she was still there, somewhere beneath that cold, nervous expression.

As they drove, Clark glanced at the rearview mirror, catching sight of his reflection. Lines on his face seemed deeper, his eyes hollow. He barely recognized himself. The effort of holding it all together was tearing him apart, piece by piece.

"Remember the time we went camping?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "You caught your first fish, and you were so excited you almost fell into the lake." He chuckled again, but it quickly turned into a choked sob. He bit down on his lip, hard, tasting blood.

Y/n gasped, "Clark-"

"Dad," he corrected sharply, his tone laced with frustration. "Call me Dad, Y/n."

Clark almost immediately regretted the sharpness in his voice as Y/n recoiled slightly, a look of guilt crossing her features.

"I-I'm sorry, sweetheart," Clark stammered, reaching out to touch her hand. "It's just... I want us to be a family again. I want... I want you to remember."

His heart almost completely shattered when Y/n moved her hand away.

The radio continued to play its happy tunes as the two sat in silence.

...

The car pulled into the parking lot of the movie theater, the neon lights flickering to life. Clark turned off the engine and sat there for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

"We're going to get through this," he said, more to himself than to her. "I promise you, Y/n. We'll find a way."

──●◎●──

A/n: Sad times :,) Anyways, guess who's out of school AHHHHHHHH!!! And guess who's also going on a trip to EUROPE!!! AHHHH!!! I'm so excited y'all.

@rosecentury

#yandere justice league #yandere jason todd #yandere dick grayson #yandere dc #yandere damian wayne #yandere clark kent #yandere bruce wayne #yandere batman #platonic yandere #batfam #tim drake #yandere red robin #yandere red hood #yandere nightwing #yandere superfam #yandere superman

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zerofushiguro · 17 hours

Note

Hi!!! Can I request a one shot for Satoru with little sister reader? His little sister is a sorcerer too but she's not gifted with six eyes and limitless curse technique like him. Because of that she always gets compared to Satoru. However, Satoru always reassures her that she can get stronger and always be her number one supporter. They train together and if anyone ever tries to make her little sister down he'll always be there to defend her and comfort her afterwards.

Gojo's Little Sister | Gojo x SIster!Reader :)

Being Satoru Gojo's little sister was not easy. He was blessed, or cursed one would say, with both the six eyes and the limitless technique while I was only able to use simple techniques, similar to Maki Zenin, but at least I had some cursed energy to begin with as she had none at all.

My specific skill set was that I was able to use electricity to my advantage to take down opponents, however, I was nowhere near as strong as Satoru.

"What's wrong, y/n?" Gojo asked as he ruffled my hair. We had been training all afternoon and I felt like I was getting nowhere. Even though the strongest sorcerer alive was training me, I couldn't help but to be seen as anything less than his baby sister.

"I just feel overwhelmed, Satoru." I answered, trying to make it out as if I was just tired and not insecure about my abilities. The Gojo clan was notorious for being judgmental and being overbearing. I didn't want my inability to be as strong as my older brother to get in his way.

"You've been training hard all afternoon, however, it seems like you just want to give up." He said, looking down at me as I was sitting on the training room floor. He could always read me like a book.

"To be honest, I just don't feel up to par with you, Satoru. I just… want to be just like you." I confessed, feeling ashamed at my lack of accomplishments.

I was ten years younger than Satoru. He was twenty-eight while I was eighteen. He had accomplished so much, being the world's strongest sorcerer and also being one of the most sought out teachers of this generation. Most people didn't like him or his childish antics, but I looked up to him.

"Does it bother you? Being my little sister? I don't want you to ever feel as if you live in my shadow, y/n." He would say as he reached his hand out and pulled me up off the floor. As I stood up, I lost my balance and fell down. He reached his hand back out before telling me to get up and try again.

"Satoru, people talk about me." I told him out of confidence before trying to hit the target. "They say I'm nothing like you and that I don't belong within the Gojo bloodline in general and I'm starting to believe them."

The look on Gojo's face was unbelievable as he heard the news of his little sister's sad, but true, feelings.

"We're done training for the day. Let's go get something sweet to eat and we can spend some time together instead." He smiled, holding out his hand. I smiled back at him, allowing him to take my hand and lead me outside.

Once we reached the cafe where we were getting Mocchi, he looked at me randomly and said something I will never forget.

"Y/n, you are perfect the way you are. Don't you dare let anybody else tell you otherwise. All you have to do is work harder and you'll get there. I'm here to help you no matter what." He said with a smile.

My heart felt warm and fuzzy as my older brother spoke these words of affirmation. I knew he loved and cared deeply about me and would do anything for me. That was the day I decided to do whatever it takes to make him proud of me. I was happy to have him as my big brother.

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adnauseum11 · 2 days

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SITREP (John Price x Reader)

Dinner continues after you get a hold of your emotions.

3.6 k words

CW: mention of deceased parents.

Hopefully I slalomed through this dinner without adding too many personal details so the reader remains as much of a blank slate as possible while retaining some interesting backstory.

This work is part of the SNAFU series - most of which has been posted here and the Masterlist is pinned to my page. Due to threats from apps like lore.fm and Ai data scraping, I'm feeling less and less secure posting my work to Tumblr. I'm toying with the idea of taking it all down, although that feels a bit like closing the barn doors after the horses got out.

This will be the last chapter I post in its entirety here on Tumblr for the time being. Partial chapter updates only going forward. If you want to continue, please consider asking for an invitation from Ao3 to make an account. It's free, and then you can read anything, even the locked fics, like mine. It's worth the little bit of a wait.

link to the chapter over on Ao3

feedback welcome, let me know if you primarily read here on Tumblr or over on Ao3. I asked earlier and the responses seemed to favour Ao3. Not the case? Let me know!

sorry for folks on the taglist - let me know if this upcoming change works for you or if you'd rather not be tagged if it's not the full chapter. I'm trying some stuff out, love to have your thoughts.

You take a few long moments in front of a large gilded mirror to breathe deeply, shaking off the lingering pall of grief, occupying your hands by checking your hair and make-up. John had been out of the country when your parents had been killed, unreachable for long months while you struggled to keep your ship afloat amongst the ensuing chaos. The situation had left you de-stabilized for longer than you cared to admit, John more familiar with the aftermath – the constant fighting with David and wild emotional dysregulation that he had weathered with equanimity. You can’t help but wonder what your parents would think about you dating the man you’d been fast friends with for all these years. Would your mother think it inevitable or inconceivable that you would see John in a new light after everything you had been through? You’re touching up your lipstick when Michelle’s face appears over your shoulder in the reflection.

“Are you ok? I’m sorry if Kate upset you. She’s prone to prying and forgets herself sometimes.”

“It’s fine, the emotion takes me by surprise every now and then. Needed a minute to get my head on straight, as John would say.”

You answer as you square your shoulders, turning to face the other woman. Michelle nods sympathetically, twisting her fingers together in front of herself.

“I’m sorry for your loss. John is pretty concerned; I think he would have come in after you himself if I hadn’t offered to come check on you.”

You give the other woman a reassuring smile, gently rolling your eyes at the unsurprising news of John’s overprotective streak. She carries on before you can make a weak joke about his hovering.

“You guys are pretty serious, hm? He didn’t call you his girlfriend when he took Kate to task about being too intrusive, he said you were his partner.”

A warmth blooms from the pit of your stomach, and you have to fight to keep your smile from growing into an inappropriately triumphant grin. John was listening after all bouncing around in your mind. Michelle follows you out of the bathroom, chatting easily.

“It’s nice to see him with someone that loosens him up. I can’t remember the last time we did something like this. There was a time where I didn’t think he would ever relax. I swear his shoulders were habitually around his ears most of the time I saw him. I’m rooting for you two.”

“Thank you, we’ve had our challenges so far but have come out the other side stronger I think.”

You squeeze John’s shoulder again as you step around his seat, his hand coming up to rest on your side protectively before you sit, his attention zeroing in on you.

“It’s alright, I was just caught off guard. Everything is fine.”

You reassure him, squeezing his wrist before his hand slips away again. Kate is contrite.

“I apologize, it was tactless to ask such a personal question.”

With a smile and a wave of your hand you try to place her at ease, not wanting dinner to grind to an uncomfortable halt.

“No, no, you couldn’t have known. Quite alright. I’m usually better behaved, I blame the red wine on an empty stomach for making me emotional.”

John huffs, having seen you far worse for wear but satisfied all is well if you still have a sense of humour. Kate’s face also relaxes into one of relief, and they both sag back into their chairs slightly.

“Are you a cigar aficionado as well, Kate? John’s been wanting to come here since it opened.”

“Only when we’re playing poker. The ‘lil missus doesn’t like the smoke.”

Michelle takes a half-hearted swat at her wife who smiles in return, shrugging slightly as if the truth would come out regardless.

“No more smoking inside if everything works out, sorry John.”

Michelle adds with a small smile in John’s direction. He nods, as if he was expecting the news.

“Fair enough. I’m not smoking as much as I used to these days. Although I am interested to pop downstairs and see what their selection is like. I was gifted a beautiful lighter for Christmas, would be a shame to not use it a little more.”

The look John sends your way makes your skin prickle again. Not just with the desire that’s been simmering between you two all night but backed with the warmth of genuine deep-seated affection. It makes you want to crawl on to his lap and mess up his perfect tie despite all the onlookers. He reads the look on your face and the corner of his mouth quirks up. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he reaches into his inner jacket pocket, finally breaking eye contact to hand over the vintage lighter to Kate’s curious reach.

Your eyes follow it as she turns it over, examining the silver rectangle. It has a unique arm mechanism for lighting, effectively stamping out the flame when shut. It’s all hand wrought, the screws on the bottom for refilling the chambers individually made. There’s a delicate filigree up the corners, leaving the worn space in the middle empty for the engraving you had commissioned with John’s initials. John had been thrilled with your small gift, it had immediately joined his wallet and watch as an essential item he carried around every day.

“It’s a 1928 Kickstarter from Colibri. No idea where she found one in such good shape, it works like a dream.”

Kate tries the lighting arm and it swings upwards easily, a flame springing forth almost instantly. She snaps it shut again with a satisfying click and offers it to Michelle to inspect. You take a sip of your wine to avoid John’s intent gaze on the side of your face, certain that if you look over, you’ll give in to the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch him. You can practically feel him willing you to turn and he only relents when Michelle hands the lighter back, a knowing smile hovering at the corners of her mouth.

“Looks like she’s got a homerun here. That’s a lovely piece, John.”

“I had to look for a while to find one in good working order.”

You supply, pleased these women who seem to know John so well are impressed with your gift.

“You know who else would appreciate that? Simon.”

Kate gestures to the lighter in John’s hand, raising her eyebrow at him in an expression you don’t understand. Michelle turns to face her wife immediately, concerned.

“Kate, no. No work stuff.”

“What? John will want to know.”

Kate’s tone is innocent, but her wife’s posture tells another story.

“Know what?”

John is cautious, returning the lighter to his inner pocket slowly, his eyes tracking from Michelle to Kate.

“He’s asked for the paperwork to be discharged; he’s going to retire. Making noise about moving back to this neck of the woods.”

John hums and his hand settles on your forearm, making you glance over at him in surprise. You’re fairly certain he’s unaware he’s reached out and grabbed you, his focus solely on Kate’s face. Kate notices the knee-jerk reaction though, and you watch her face rapidly go through a series of complicated emotions you couldn’t name even if pressed.

“You’re right, I do want to know.”

John’s tone of voice has a measured calmness to it that belies the grip his hand has on your forearm.

“Well, this is all very cryptic. Who is Simon?”

You don’t dislodge his hand, raising an eyebrow at him when he slowly turns away from Kate to explain.

“Simon was my Lieutenant. He’s had a… rough go lately. Not surprised he’s wanting out but did he say what he plans to do?”

John answers your question broadly before directing another question back towards Kate. Michelle sighs, and you get the impression that this hi-jacking of the conversation happens more often than she condones.

“No, not to me. Nor anyone else as far as I know. I was hoping maybe you could check in on him.”

“Hm. Yeah, could do – “

John is interrupted by dinner arriving. Everything is laid out still steaming and fragrant, fresh from the kitchen. Michelle shakes her head at the platter that is set before Kate, disbelief written across her face. John’s plate isn’t much better, the thick slab of meat before him making your eyebrows raise.

“Is this a military thing?”

You ask Michelle in a stage whisper, John letting go of your arm to attend to his enormous meal. He’s got a baked potato and lightly roasted green beans to get through as well, never mind the huge cut of meat. Kate’s lobster tail and steak take up most of the plate before her, with a potato of her own nestled beside a garden salad.

“No, it’s an excellent food thing.”

John answers, his eyes crinkling in good humour. Kate makes a sound of agreement before adding with a smile.

“And it’s a John’s paying kind of thing.”

“Kate!”

Michelle’s back to scolding her wife but John just smiles, not offended in the least.

“She’s earned it, Michelle. Don’t worry.”

“Lord help us, don’t encourage her John. I haven’t decided yet how I feel about you two not working together anymore.”

Kate smirks at that and clinks her glass against John’s, and in a flash the depth of their friendship becomes clear. You refocus on your own food, wondering again at this part of John’s life you’ve heretofore been excluded from. You soothe your slightly wounded ego by reminding yourself that John’s trying at least to bridge the formidable gap between his work life and what you consider to be his ‘real’ life. His enjoyment of the company across the table is evident to you though, giving you pause. Michelle picks up on your thoughtful turn and catches your eye as you cut into the tender side of the filet mignon in front of you.

“They’re always having side conversations, it’s insanely annoying. It was worth putting up with it to know someone out there had her back when they were working. Now, it’s just taking the piss, as you say over here.”

She narrows her eyes at John who has the good grace to look slightly chastised. Kate ignores her wife, digging into the lobster with gusto.

“John doesn’t talk to me about his work much. It’s all classified, apparently. I just found out that you two existed the other day.”

You try to gently joke with her, brushing off the fact that you know next to nothing about John’s work other than the broadest strokes. Michelle sends you a kind look and nods in understanding while Kate stares down John over her buttered lobster.

“Field work is difficult - Kate you know that. It’s safer for everyone if there’s nothing to leverage. As recently proved.”

You barely understand the context of John’s words, leverage striking you as an odd phrase when talking about relationships. You gather he’s talking about the break-in and subsequent shit show only just recently put behind you. Kate understands his meaning straight away though and shrugs, arching a brow across the table at John who’s paused in eating his meal.

“God love ya John, you always pick the hardest possible path forward. I get where you’re coming from, just not sure on the execution in reality.”

“Could you two speak English, please?”

Michelle interjects, her eyes on your face as you quietly puzzle over the layered conversation going on. If you knew her better you would say the look on her face was sympathetic. Kate explains herself for your benefit, her eyes flicking between you and John.

“I worked with John for years and if it makes you feel any better, he didn’t tell me that you existed until recently either. He seemed to be under the impression that keeping the spheres of his life from overlapping was the safest way to operate. The idea being that it would keep you from becoming a target. I’d say forewarned is forearmed, myself. But I understand his logic. His work was dangerous.”

John’s face is suddenly serious, his hands still, waiting for your reaction. You’re trying to piece together what little you know of his work and the events of the last few months. The idea that he’d been living what amounts to a dual life is jarring for some reason. You like to think you know John well, and this night is reminding you there’s a lot you are unaware of. Kate’s revelation that she didn’t know him as well as she thought either is cold consolation.

“So, keeping everyone separate in their own little box was about safety?”

“It’s always about your safety.”

John answers and you get the impression there’s more to be said but he’s holding his tongue. You decide to leverage it out of him later. What possible danger could there be in meeting these women now that wasn’t there when he was working? You exchange a long, silent look with him that must convey your skepticism because he only physically relaxes when you eat another bite of dinner, seemingly letting it go for the moment. Kate watches the tense exchange between you with rapt interest as she polishes off the rest of her lobster and salad.

“I don’t know about anyone else, but my dinner is simply delicious.”

Michelle breaks the silence, reaching across her wife’s arm to snag her gin and tonic and take a delicate sip. You smile in appreciation at her attempt to break the newest layer of tension, Kate’s chagrined face only making your grin wider. You exchange an amused look with Michelle as she hands the gin and tonic back to her annoyed wife.

“The food is really delectable. I’m getting full but it tastes so good! I’m going to risk popping my dress.”

Michelle laughs and Kate smiles over a bite of steak.

“I know John can put away a lot of food, but these portions are massive you guys. I’m impressed.”

You continue, a hint of awe entering your tone as you watch Kate’s methodical approach to her plate.

“I suspect they don’t half-ass things around here.”

Kate supplies, looking pointedly at the rich appointments around the big dining room. From the chandeliers to the floor length window dressings, the restaurant screams sumptuousness. John is just as regimented about his food as Kate, most of his steak gone and half of the side dishes remaining. He huffs in acknowledgment of Kate’s words, amused.

“They haven’t half-assed their prices so I would hope not.”

You smile into your last bite of filet mignon, relaxing into the gentle banter again. You take a moment while finishing what you can of your dinner to observe the way the group easily pivots from topic to topic, and the familiarity of it is striking to you. John is himself with them, there is no pretence in his conduct and you puzzle over his insistence on keeping you separated from people he gets along with so well. If what he says is to be believed, John spent his career being concerned about your safety such that he went to extreme lengths to keep you protected from its dangers. That’s not the behavior of a man who has only recently decided he wanted more from your friendship. His admission about the dress you're wearing turning him on years before he asked you out rattles around in your brain like a marble you can’t stop rolling around. His hand on your forearm draws you back to the present, and you look at him, his vibrant blue eyes taking in your dazed expression.

“Do you want more wine? I’m having coffee. Kate’s having another gin and Michelle is going to have a decaf.”

He asks, filling you in quickly once he clocks that you were lost in thought.

“Yes, that would be lovely. Please.”

The return of your manners earns you a warm smile and John turns to the waiter to relay your order. The dishes are cleared and you spend the next three quarters of an hour forcing yourself to stay present in the moment and not withdraw to puzzle over all you’ve learned. You find yourself naturally drawn to Michelle, her dry wit cutting and more than a match for her formidable and straightforward wife. Kate and John seem to be able to have a conversation within a conversation, and you quickly learn what Michelle means about it being annoying. It especially grates on your nerves as it’s typically you and John with a litany of inside jokes scattered through any conversation. Having the shoe on the other foot is less fun than you imagined. John excuses himself to the bathroom, which you know is code for paying the bill and you steel yourself to spend the next few moments alone with his friends.

“You’ve had a lot of change over the last few months, what with starting to date John and then moving in so quickly after the break in. How are you finding living with him?”

Kate’s got the question out as soon as John’s big frame leaves the general vicinity of the table.

“It’s like anything, a bit of an adjustment but it’s been good. He’s far neater than me, maybe you should ask him what living with me is like instead.”

You laugh before you continue, mentally acknowledging your vastly different decorating styles. John’s a minimalist where you love fun and funky tchotchkes. Your flat had been crammed to the rafters with knick-knacks. Moving in with John had necessitated parting ways with a lot of your less sentimental pieces. The lowkey dispute about the Christmas decorations had hardly been a solitary event.

“So far it's been lovely, he lets me have my way most of the time and pairs the most delicious wines with dinner. I have no complaints or salacious details, sorry ladies.”

You keep your most recent fight to yourself, unwilling to expose John or yourself to the scrutiny of these women, even if they mean well. In the end, you had gotten what you wanted there too, which was to be heard and considered in matters that concerned you. Which by all accounts, seems to have landed for John.

“He plays it pretty close to the vest too, as previously established. Was hoping you would be a bit more forthcoming.”

Kate smiles, not unkindly, but her rampant curiosity might as well be a neon sign flashing over her face. Her wife elbows her arm with all the subtlety of a gunshot and the dirty blonde schools her face back into something more restrained. You offer a smile and swirl the dregs of your wine, unsure what the other woman was hoping to learn.

“He snores when he’s been drinking?”

Kate gives a startled laugh and shakes her head quickly.

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

“I suspect the John you know and the John I know are the same, we just see him in different scenarios.”

“True enough to a point. He doesn’t let me have my way as often, I'm going to guess.”

You can feel heat creeping over your cheeks at the suggestive tone and she carries on before you can speak.

“I’m more interested in you, than how he behaves when he’s with you, to clarify what I meant. You went to university?”

You nod dumbly, the wine doing nothing to help your mind focus. Kate rolls along with more questions, to her wife’s open annoyance.

“Kate, leave her alone. Seriously.”

“Where do you work? Have you been there long?”

“Uh, I quit, before Christmas. After the break-in John and I talked and I’m going to find something else. I wasn’t happy there. So, technically working nowhere right now.”

“Were you using your degree?”

“No, it was customer service essentially with some data entry. Soul sucking. Awful.”

“What would you prefer to do?”

“I’m not sure. I think being a docent would be fun but those positions can be quite hard to get.”

Michelle’s distracted from trying to back Kate off this line of questioning by this tidbit of information, and her attention swings to you.

“Oh! Like at the Tower of London? They were phenomenal! That would be a fun job.”

“Yes, exactly. Having new faces to chat to every day and all that history around would be – “

“What does John think?”

Kate interrupts, the curiosity on her face in full force. The wine answers before you can corral your thoughts into something more even-tempered.

“I haven't mentioned it yet, besides, why would he care? He won’t be the one working there.”

Michelle tilts her head backs and laughs, John’s quizzical face popping into view at the end of the table eventually subduing her mirth.

“Hate to interrupt but everyone ready?”

You exchange a smile with Michelle and nod at John, standing and linking you hand with his outstretched one. He leads you back through the restaurant to collect your coats from the coat check. Afterwards you stand on the chilly sidewalk to exchange hugs and goodbyes, a whispered good luck sent in to Michelle’s ear that she acknowledges with an extra squeeze before letting you go. Kate bundles her wife into a waiting cab with a final wave out the window, and John convinces you to go peruse the cigars downstairs before heading home yourselves. If things work out for the two women, he reasons Kate will need a celebratory cigar to herald in their newest adventure. You can’t say no to his sentimental reasoning and find yourself an hour later, back in the same place on the sidewalk, John’s newest purchases tucked into your clutch to protect against the damp while you wait for the valet.

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theamberfist · 10 hours

Text

Stinkin' Doctors | Grandma Susan + Reader

Familial! Grandma Susan + Grandchild Reader

Description: Rosie has implemented a new rule in Cannibal Town where everyone must attend yearly checkups at the doctors' to stay healthy. And lucky you: as Susan's grandchild, you get to be the one to drag her to hers.

(Notes: CW cannibalism, death, bad parents, creepy doctors) (gender neutral reader) (Reader is Susan's grandchild from when she was alive)

Words: 3,721

"You're kidding." You breathed as you leaned over the desk of the beautiful cannibal overlord, who also happened to be one of your dearest friends. "Every year?" Rosie simply nodded as she signed off on a few of the papers in front of her. The emporium hadn't even opened yet, but after receiving her call that morning, you'd rushed over in what was definitely not a panic to speak with her.

"I need everyone in Cannibal Town to stay healthy, darling," she explained for the second time, "These appointments are just extra precaution; everyone will have them." You swallowed. That may have been true, but everyone wasn't your grandmother.

"I get that," you sighed, running a hand through your hair, "But how am I supposed to get Grams to agree to that? We couldn't even convince her to see a doctor when she was on her death bed in life!" Rosie knew better than anyone just how stubborn your grandma could be, but she also knew that if there was one person who could get past her prickly nature to convince her, it was you.

"I know you can do it." She said with a reassuring smile now, "Even the meanest old lady's gotta listen to her grandchild sometimes; especially if they're as darling as you!" She reached up to pinch your cheek, which promptly grew slightly red from embarrassment. Your parents hadn't ended up in hell, which you had thought made your grandmother the only family you really had down here, but it was at times like this when you realized that might not be so true.

"Fine." You sighed, pushing away from the desk, "But don't have too much faith in me! Grams hates doctors." Rosie giggled as you headed for the door, already trying to come up with a way to break the news to your grandma.

"Thank you!" She called genuinely as you left the emporium. She'd make it up to you later; maybe with a nicely cooked meal for your troubles. After all, if worst came to worst, Susan would listen to her if no one else, but she had confidence that as Cannibal Town's designated Susan-Wrangler, you could get her to her appointment on your own- and that it would be quite an entertaining process.

..........

"Where are we goin'?" Susan asked for what was probably the seventh time in the last ten minutes as you lead her by the arm down the street. "First ya show up to my place uninvited, and then ya drag me out before the sun's even up without telling me why!" You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

"It's afternoon, Grandma," You calmly told her. Rosie had carefully made her appointment time a later one since she knew the old woman would pitch a fit at having been woken up early. "And we don't exactly have a proper sun here, anyway."

"There ya go now, back talkin' me!" Susan spat, though she didn't let go of your arm, "Kids these days with their poor attitudes!"

You sighed, putting on a bright smile as the two of you passed some familiar faces on the street. They waved and you returned the gesture in an attempt to keep some sort of positive relationship with the other cannibals; despite the old woman on your arm.

"Sorry, Grandma." You replied finally, "But to answer your question; we're going to see the doctor, like I told you earlier." Of course, Susan hadn't exactly been listening when you'd mentioned that; picking the opportune moment of her meticulously choosing her parasol for the day to offhandedly explain it.

She stopped in her tracks now; a flicker of fear hitting her eyes before she let go of you and crossed her arms over her chest with a defiant expression.

"Like hell we are!" She snarled, "I don't needa see no filthy doctor!" You sighed; this had been the difficult part you'd anticipated. Well, one of them, anyway.

"Grandma, it's okay," You tried to assure her, reaching for her elbow even as she began to shuffle away, "It's just a checkup; Rosie scheduled it for us."

"I don't need anyone checking up anything of mine!" Susan shouted and you winced at how bad that sentence sounded, "Especially no stinkin' doctor!" Ignoring the fact that she'd literally been married to a 'stinkin' doctor' once while alive, you tried to remain patient.

"It's just to make sure you're healthy and that nothing's wrong that we don't know about," you explained carefully, "Rosie's having everyone do it once a year now to keep us safer." Seeing that she still wouldn't budge, you took a step forward before adding, "And I'll be there the whole time, okay?"

Susan neither agreed nor disagreed but allowed you to gently take her arm once again and continue leading her down the street. Of course, that didn't come without its share of complaints either.

"A checkup," she repeated more to herself than anything, "A damn checkup! What a stupid idea; everyone knows ya only go to the doctor if you're fucking sick!" You weren't sure whether she meant 'sick' as in a physical or mental illness, but when it came to your grandmother, it was best not to guess. She turned her gaze to you now as the two of you kept walking. "And I ain't sick!"

"I know, Grandma," You replied, "That'll make the appointment even shorter, then!" Your words seemed to do little to comfort her though, because she continued muttering about how stupid this all was and how 'that filthy doctor would be lucky if she didn't bite his arm off when he got close' all the way to the clinic.

Finally, you arrived and managed to drag Susan through the door despite her shouts of protest. You knew her anger wasn't directed towards you, though, but rather the situation itself.

It was hard to tell, and if you weren't paying close attention you really could miss it, but she was nicer to you than anybody else in hell. Sure, she still made demeaning remarks and yelled at you often, but when it came down to it, you were her grandchild; the only thing her own kid had ever given her besides a headache, she'd once said.

Now inside, you brought your grandma up to the counter even as she resisted your gentle pull of her arm.

"Hi," you smiled brightly at the receptionist, whose eyes widened at the sight of the old woman beside you. Susan was extremely well-known throughout Cannibal Town, and sometime before you'd ended up in hell, had managed to gain the respect of nearly all its residents. You couldn't exactly blame them, though; underneath it all, you greatly respected her too.

It was her who'd stepped up to raise you in life when your parents had turned out to be bums, after all; taking responsibility for what her own child wouldn't.

"Hello," the receptionist, whose black eyes matched everyone else in the cannibal colony, managed to regain her composure now, "Do you have an appointment?"

"No, we came here to snack on some organ donations." Susan said sarcastically; a joke that would have landed better, if not for the surgical center being located in the same building.

"Yes." You replied quickly, trying to sidestep your grandmother's rudeness. You'd long since given up on trying to get her to be any more polite than that; especially in a situation like this where she already didn't want to be here.

The receptionist nodded before grabbing a clipboard with a small packet of paper attached. "Please fill this out and have a seat." You took the clipboard form her with a nod and then dragged Susan over to a set of chairs as far from the rest of the waiting room as you could possibly get.

Once you were seated, you held the clipboard out to the old woman. "Now they're givin' homework; just great." She grumbled but took it anyway.

"They just want to know your health history so they can properly treat you." You explained.

"And how is that any of their business?" Susan replied as she looked down at the paper. She squinted as you waited patiently for her fill it out. A second later, she dropped the clipboard on her lap with an irritated grumble. "They made the damn words too small!" She exclaimed as she crossed her arms, "I can't even see 'em."

You sighed, taking the clipboard from her and looking it over. "They want you to sign your name here," you pointed to an empty line as you handed the pen back to her expectantly. She grumbled some more but did as you said, nonetheless. "And then here's a list of ailments. They want you to check the ones that affect you."

"None; I ain't sick!" Susan exclaimed. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes once again and left the boxes blank. "The next questions are about your after-lifestyle," you explained, "They want to know how often you smoke, whether or not you drink; stuff like that."

"Never." Your grandma said with a huff but you narrowed your eyes at her. Having seen both her smoking and drinking habits since ending up in hell, you knew that was a blatant lie. "Fine." She practically spat, "Twice a week." You nodded but checked the box labeled 'most days' instead. It was a more accurate representation of how she lived, anyway.

You struggled through the health history questions next. Since your grandmother had rarely ever been to the doctors' even in life, she'd never exactly been diagnosed with anything, and claimed that therefore meant she'd been perfectly healthy, despite having died to one of her unknown ailments because she refused to get it checked in the first place.

Finally, the paperwork was finished and you brought it over to the receptionist, who told you they'd call you back when they were ready. As you made your way back to the waiting area, you could hear Susan still grumbling rather loudly.

"We better not be payin' for this shit." She threatened as you shook your head.

"We aren't, Grandma. It's part of Rosie's new program." You were well aware of the fact that the old woman didn't exactly stay up to date on current events but she nodded as if she knew what that meant anyway.

After a few minutes, you managed to tune out her muttering as you brought out a book to read while you waited. You knew better than to use a phone within the sight of your grandma, and this way, she wouldn't be able to complain about 'youth's these days' and how things had been better back when she was young.

You were met with a few, brief moments of peace before she suddenly nudged you in the shoulder, causing you to look up from your book. "What is it?" You asked, noticing her expression was even more venomous than usual. She pointed at the receptionist's desk.

"Look at them," she said under her breath, "the nerve of some people." You held back a comment about her own nerve as you looked to the direction in which she was pointing, where a man sinner you assumed to be the doctor based on his white coat was chatting with the receptionist. He was leaning over her desk, both elbows resting on the wood as he propped his face up with his hands.

"What?" You asked, turning back to your grandmother, "They're just talking." Though, the scene progressed a moment later as the doctor leaned in and planted a kiss on the receptionist's lips; gazing at her with lovesickness in his black eyes.

Susan practically growled beside you and it was only then that you remembered the story of what had happened between her and your grandpa; the doctor. You'd never met the man in life but it seemed that past betrayal was setting her off now.

"Stinkin' doctors..." She mumbled, grabbing a magazine from the table nearby in order to seem less interested in the situation than she was.

"Maybe they're a couple." You suggested, noticing the doctor wore a wedding ring on his left hand, "It's normal for them to kiss." Susan's eyes were practically shot daggers as she looked towards the name tag on the woman's desk, which had a different last name than the one on the doctor's name tag.

"Maybe they kept their separate last names." You said with a shrug before going back to your book, "Either way, it's really none of our business." Your grandmother just glared down at her magazine.

"The nerve of some people..."

It wasn't until ten minutes later that Susan's name was finally called by the receptionist now that they were ready for her. The doctor was still waiting by the desk but gave you a warm smile as you stood from your chair and took your grandmother's arm once again. She seemed even less enthusiastic about this appointment than before, if that was even possible, but only presented minimal struggling as you dragged her to the hallway door.

Behind you, someone else entered the clinic but you couldn't be bothered to care who it was; your first priority being to get your grandma to her checkup. You glanced back at the doctor, who waved you off.

"Room 3," he said, "I'll be with you in just a moment." And with that, he turned back to the desk, where another woman sinner was now standing with what looked like a cutely decorated lunchbox in hand.

Finally, you dragged Susan through the doors, ignoring her keen interest in the group as you made your way to the room. It took nearly all your strength to get her inside, but eventually, the two of you sat on the patient's bed together with the examination room's door closed as you awaited the doctor.

"If that fuckin' prick comes at me with a needle I'm biting his ear off." Your Grandma spat beside you.

"You're not supposed to get a shot today, so it should be fine, Grams." You told her with a sigh. You were beginning to run low on patience for the old woman by now, so it was a good thing the appointment would start soon.

"You know the asshole's cheating on his wife?" Susan said suddenly, a scary glow in her eyes that made you shiver.

"How do you know that?" You asked, knowing she was referring to the doctor.

"You saw him getting hot and heavy with that receptionist!" Susan replied as if it were obvious, "But his actual wife just came in and brought him lunch. She had a ring and everything." She shook her head, "The nerve..."

You weren't sure what to say about that, knowing your grandmother's personal stake in the matter. You supposed that was why the following words left your mouth.

"What was in the lunch?"

Susan gave you a luck that warned against testing her like this but she answered your question anyway. "Skewered eyeballs." She replied, "And freshly baked fingers. She musta worked on those all mornin' just for that fucker to turn around and get with someone else." You sighed.

"That's too bad." What else were you supposed to say? You had enough on your plate already just from trying not to let your grandma run right out of the clinic.

The rest of your time waiting for the doctor was spent in silence until he finally knocked on the door and both you and Susan stiffened as he entered.

"Sorry about the wait!" The cannibal doctor exclaimed as he pulled up a rolling stool, "Now, Susan, I understand this is your first checkup with us?"

"That's Miss Susan to you." The old woman replied and the doctor's smile faltered just a bit.

"Right..." he replied, glancing at you. You offered nothing more than a shrug so he turned back to his clipboard, "It looks like for your medical history you just wrote 'fuck you, you filthy doctor.' Can you tell me more about that?" Susan opened her mouth to speak, glad to have the chance to rip into the other sinner, but you quickly interjected.

"She didn't really go to the doctor much when we were alive," You explained, "So we weren't sure of any formal diagnoses."

"Okay." The man replied as he noted that down, "And may I ask who you are?" There was a gleam of amusement in his eyes as he did so but you ignored it.

"Her grandkid," you told him simply. Although you'd opted to ignore the man's clear interest in you, it seemed Susan had chosen a different route.

"So stop eyein' em up, buster!" She exclaimed. The doctor ignored her though; not focused on you.

"It was very kind of you to take her to her appointment like this," he commented, making you feel slightly less comfortable in the room.

"It's not a big deal..." You replied awkwardly before clearing your throat, "Now could we maybe hurry this along? Grams isn't fond of appointments like this."

"Of course," The doctor replied, flashing his sharp white teeth at you, "I promise your grandmother will receive the best care we can give her." That seemed to finally be enough for Susan because she suddenly shouted.

"Oh yeah? How do we know you aren't gonna break that promise like ya did to your wife!"

Silence filled the room then as the man's gaze turned to her; his eyes wide at having been caught in the act. "Now quit chatting up my grandkid and get on with it!" Susan continued, gesturing for him to hurry up, "Or am I gonna have to rip off one of your arms too?"

The doctors swallowed harshly before nodding and getting on with his duties. The rest of the appointment was filled with awkward silence, aside from Susan's occasional rude comments. Once everything was done, the doctor informed you that your grandmother was completely healthy and then handed you a note to give Rosie as confirmation that the appointment had been successful.

With that, he saw you into the waiting room where the receptionist scheduled the next year's appointment and you were finally done. Susan had become significantly less frustrated with being in a doctor's office after dropping that bombshell earlier but at this point you were too tired and hungry to care.

You lead her by the arm back to the street now, only to nearly bump into a sinner you hadn't seen before the second you reached the sidewalk. Slightly disoriented, you were already bracing yourself for the string of curses that would inevitably leave your Grandmother's lips from the nerve of whoever it was that hadn't been watching where they were going.

However, to your surprise, she didn't say anything at all. Instead, she looked up at the sinner, whom you just now realized happened to be the woman you'd seen in the clinic earlier.

A satisfied expression made its way onto Susan's face and you knew what she was going to say before she even spoke.

"Your husband's cheating on you." The old woman said matter-of-factly, "A filthy doctor and an ugly receptionist; what a pair!" The woman's eyes widened but Susan just pulled you along before she could reply and soon enough you were far enough away that you could no longer hear her screams of anger and confusion.

It was at this point that you gave up trying to control your grandmother. The cat was already out of the bag, and if you were being honest, the woman being cheated on had had a right to know the truth. Susan seemed very pleased with herself now; maybe because she gained some sense of fulfillment from her actions that she hadn't received in life when she found herself in a similar position.

"Grandma," you finally said once the two of you were only a few blocks from her home, "I'm...Sorry about what Grandpa did to you."

She froze. It was a topic the two of you had never discussed before; you'd always been too afraid of her anger to bring it up, but after being confronted with a similar situation today, it felt like the right time.

Finally, the old woman seemed to regain her composure because she kept walking. "Don't call him that," she said, though there was no anger in her tone, only...sadness? "Ya never even met the asshole." You shrugged.

"But he still hurt you." You said, "That's what-"

"-Your parents told you, yeah yeah." Susan replied, waving your concern off, "Sure he did, but he was a hell of a lot smarter than that doctor." She pointed in the direction of the clinic, "That's why when I caught him cheating on me I ate them both."

...And the touching moment had been destroyed. You chuckled, though, knowing the only reason your grandmother had been so opposed to visiting the doctor was because it reminded her of her ex-husband. Though, it seemed she'd been able to work through some of those feelings today by ensuring another couple discovered the ruins of their own marriage.

"Does this mean next year you'll be okay going to your appointment again?" You asked hopefully now that the two of you had reached the gates outside of your grandmother's house.

"Don't push it." She replied, letting go of your arm and heading for the house without so much as a goodbye. You shook your head, knowing she still cared for you regardless of how often she showed it. That much had been clear when she went off on the doctor for your sake but also refrained from murdering him for your sake.

You were about to turn and head to your own home for the night when a familiar voice called out to you. You looked back to see Susan standing on her porch holding the her front door open.

"Ya look like ya haven't eaten in a month!" She said with a scowl, "How's about you come inside for a proper meal?" A smile made its way onto your lips at that and you nodded, turning around to head for the house. Susan kept the door open, allowing you to enter as she hid her delight behind her usual resting-bitch-face.

Though, as you spoke again, her lips couldn't help but curve upwards just slightly.

"Thanks, Grandma."

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rosiegirlie · 1 day

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Before You Go Performing (2): Rosie Rosenthal x OC

summary: Billie tries to work through some insecurities and Rosie is an absolute gentleman about it. Also Crosby turns out to be a good friend when things go down at the pub. word count: 11.8k read on ao3 part one

Billie felt like she was on top of the world with Rosie escorting her back home to her hut like something out of a romantic movie. The pair were walking slowly and a brief moment of comfortable silence had come over them. Billie couldn’t help but look out at the sun beginning to set over the trees and she smiled at the sight. Billie had long loved a good sunset and now that she was thousands of miles away from home she appreciated them even more. Even though no two sunsets were the same each reminded Billie of the red and white big top with the lights around beginning to glow. She could almost smell the popcorn and hear laughter in the air as the sky was starting to shift into something both purple and orange.

Growing up in the circus a lot of what seemed magical to others was her mundane. But she always felt the magic in the sunsets before the last show of the day. Watching the sunset had been a part of her superstition filled warm up routine on the nights she got to perform. She found it funny that she used to feel such potential in a sunset while lately she found it in the sunrise. But it was easy to find the beauty in anything with Rosie by her side. The past week with Rosie had been an absolute dream and Billie had trouble falling asleep each night, afraid that when she woke up she’d find it had been just that, a dream.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come out with me tonight? I’d make sure you have a good time.” Rosie asked, drawing Billie’s attention away from thinking about sunsets.

“I always have a good time when I’m with you.” Billie answered with a smile. She received one in return.

“So then why don’t you come?” He asked.

“I told you.” She squeezed his hand quickly and resisted the urge to pull him in for a hug. There were too many people around for that. “I have a headache building and being around all the noise and people in the officer’s club sounds like a nightmare. I need a quiet night. I just need to curl up with my book and turn in early.”

“I want to hear your thoughts when you finish the chapter. You’re going to have a lot to say, I can’t wait.” Rosie said.

“If I can finish. You know how slow I go.” Billie teased herself.

“You’ll finish just fine, don’t worry. There’s no rush.” Rosie reassured her.

Billie couldn’t help but think he was wrong. Of course there was a rush. They rarely talked about it but Rosie could be lost just like that. Ever since this thing had first started between Billie and Rosie it was like Billie had been living in limbo. She’d never had to live like this, with her heart on the line almost every day. It’d been an adjustment over the past week getting used to the life of having her heart wrapped up in a pilot. Despite being such a positive person the reality hung so heavy Billie couldn’t ignore it. She had a lifetime of experience masking any of her emotions so she didn’t think Rosie had picked up on it quite yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time until he brought up the future. And once they talked about the future they would have to acknowledge all of the possibilities.

A part of her knew they needed to have that sort of conversation but she was also terrified of solidifying what was developing between them. Rosie had changed her world with just one look but she hadn’t figured out what that meant for her future. Even though being around Rosie somehow made the rest of the world make sense it also made her lose her inability to think rationally. All she really knew was that she would be utterly destroyed if she lost Rosie in any way.

Rosie grabbed her hand and pulled her into one of the little alleys in-between the nurses’ huts, Billie couldn’t help but giggle as they went. "I'll take my dance now since I can't tonight." He twirled her around and while Billie almost stumbled she was quick to find Rosie’s rhythm and follow along as he swung her around their grass dance floor.

Billie couldn’t help but smile as she looked up at Rosie. Their faces were so close it wouldn’t take much for her to stretch out and kiss him and the thought made her stomach flip with nerves. Rosie seemed to be thinking the same and Billie swore he started moving his head towards hers but she turned her head before seeing if she was right.

She slipped out of Rosie’s arms and went to stand against the wall. After feigning being out of breath Billie put a hands on her hips, shrugged and said, “Sorry.”

Rosie came to stand beside her and reached an arm arm out so his elbow rested on the wall and his head settled onto his fist. He looked at Billie and she couldn’t help but blush under his scrutiny. She wondered how long it was going to take for her body to adjust and not react that way every time he looked at her.

“I feel there’s something you’re not telling me.” He said, perceptive as always.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She lied.

“We don’t have to talk about it. But I hope you know that you can talk to me about anything.”

And it was that, Rosie’s constant understanding and grace, that had Billie speaking before she could plan what to say. She’d fold in an instant if he was the one questioning her.

“I don’t know how I feel about the touching in public where people can see. Beyond what’s normal I mean.”

Rosie immediately dropped his arm and took a large step back. The distance left a bitter taste in her mouth. “Have I made you uncomfortable?” Rosie looked distraught so Billie ignored the hypocrisy and stretched her hands out to grab Rosie’s in an attempt to comfort him. She hated seeing him so upset.

“Not at all! Don’t you dare think that. You have been perfectly lovely in every way, Rosie. And I really mean that, trust me. This is a me thing.”

“Then can you expand on what you mean?” Rosie slowly asked.

Billie dropped her hands from Rosie’s and started wringing them nervously. “I don’t think I can really explain it. It’s just …” she waved a hand as if brushing off a thought. “I guess it all stems from being insecure. It’s just I don’t want to bring you down. I don’t want to be a distraction, you need to stay focused.”

Rosie was making that face again so Billie continued, “I’m not saying I don’t want to be around you or be seen with you. I want to be with you, I just want to go slow. I want respectable not indecent.”

Billie couldn’t explain how conflicted she felt. Because Billie knew all about physical relationships. She was no stranger to sex. Billie in the past was not shy, hadn’t had an ounce of shame and she was mortified at the idea of sharing her history with Rosie. If she had her way Rosie would never know about all of the scandalous things she used to do in public. Billie hated that she proved certain stereotypes right but she couldn’t help her past. She was both ashamed of her past self and proud for having been confident enough to get what she wanted. Still, she didn’t want to be seen as some sort of easy or loose girl. She didn't want to be like that anymore. Even more she wanted to be wanted beyond her body for once.

She didn’t know how to explain that she wanted something steady and real. This was the first thing Billie could possibly call a relationship and she’d spent years dreaming about this happening. But now that she was here with Rosie she was realizing how her past was on the edge making her fairy tale dreams unobtainable. She’d be destroyed if her history somehow brought about Rosie’s social downfall or worse, turned him off completely. If she could keep things physically mild with Rosie, if she could convince him to stay around without relying on her body then there was a chance for things to continue. Because this thing did feel real with Rosie, the most real and right thing she’d ever felt. Billie would never forgive herself if she messed this up.

“You want something real.” Rosie said with an understanding smile.

It was like he read her mind. Billie met his eyes again and she was struck again with a sense of awe in how in tune he was with her.

“How do you always do that?” she asked.

“How do I do what?”

“You know exactly what I’m thinking when I don’t know how to say it.” She started wringing her hands again and looked around at anything but Rosie. “It’s embarrassing but… I don’t have any experience and because of that I want to do things right.”

Rosie reached his hand out and gently touched her elbow to get her attention before dropping it back to his side. “You’re working yourself up over something you don’t even need to worry about. I’m fine with slow.” he reassured her. “I’ll take whatever you’ll give me.”

“You really don’t mind?”

“Honestly, I don’t mind. I can handle real.” Rosie took a small step closer and resumed his position leaning against the wall. “In fact, I like the idea of a little courting. It’s romantic.”

Billie really didn’t understand how she got so lucky with Rosie. A girl like her didn’t deserve someone like him but she certainly wasn’t going to let him go. She was going to do whatever it took to keep him by her side.

“I’m fine with you setting the pace.” Rosie said and that really had Billie melting.

She looked around to see if anyone could see them and when she felt like it was safe she grabbed Rosie’s tie and pulled him into a kiss that she wanted to escalate but resisted the temptation. It was a quick thing and Billie immediately turned on her heels and fled the scene in embarrassment at her forwardness. Especially after having just said she didn’t want that sort of thing yet. Understandably she left him stunned with his eyes wide and mouth open in surprise.

Billie stopped after rounding the corner off the building and stuck her head back around to look at Rosie. “I hope you have a good night, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.” Rosie answered weakly. Billie winked at him and gave a little wave then made her way inside.

It didn’t take long for Billie to get comfortable in the chair by the window with a blanket tucked around her. She wouldn’t be able to stay here for long with the fading sunlight but she wanted to take advantage while she could. Billie had only managed a couple of pages when voices just outside the window distracted her. She couldn’t help but lean closer to listen and it didn’t take long for her to recognize Rebecca’s nasally drone.

“It’s just that she’s a waste of space. We give her the easiest tasks and she can barely handle them!” Rebecca said.

“At least she’s always in a good mood.” Someone else said.

“Who care’s if she’s in a good mood if she’s a waste of the Army’s resources.”

The girls all laughed and the sound sent chills down Billie’s spine. She wasn’t stupid; Rebecca and her friends were talking about her. She felt three inches tall but she couldn’t stop listening.

“Plus there’s the way she’s been hanging on to Rosie.” Rebecca complained. “She was bad before but now her heads all in the clouds. She’s such a floozy distracting our best pilot.”

“I saw him walking her back after dinner the other night.” someone confessed. “He has to be somewhat interested in her.” Billie’s heart warmed at the small argument in her favor but it didn’t last long.

“Or, Rosie is simply a gentlemen and Billie knows how to take advantage of that.” Rebecca countered. “She’s the kind of girl to use men. She’s circus trash who brings trouble with her wherever she goes, so what else would you expect? We can’t trust her with anything of value. We’d be doing Rosie a favor by pulling Billie from his side. He deserves someone better. It’s always heartbreaking seeing a man with potential being held back.” Rebecca’s voice was filled with distain for Billie and she could picture exactly what Rebecca’s face looked like as she complained about Billie. It was always the beautiful and talented ones that could say the most hurtful things, or at least it’d been that way in Billie’s life.

“By someone better you mean you, right?” Someone asked.

“What can I say, you saw how we looked together the other week.” Billie could picture Rebecca flipping her blonde hair behind her shoulder as she laughed. Billie felt sick. They had looked rather good dancing together and it had broke Billie’s heart and still hurt to think about.

Having heard enough Billie got out of the chair and fell face first onto her bed. She screamed. Then she rolled over, grabbed her pillow and put it over her face then screamed again. Hate was a useless emotion in Billie’s book but for the first time in her life she understood what it felt like to hate someone. She was so frustrated she felt hysterical. It was like Rebecca had confirmed all of her worst fears of what people thought of her. One of her goals when signing up to be a nurse had been to reinvent herself and it was devastating to have her past ruin that. She wished she could go back in time and never tell anyone she was from the circus. She should have made up some backstory and lived a lie. Surely that would have been easier to deal with than this.

Billie sat straight up with one thought on her mind, she needed to get drunk. Her adrenaline was racing with her frustration and humiliation and she needed to get the energy out somehow. She wanted to be reckless and make poor decisions to cover up this deep hurt. After peeking out of the window to make sure Rebecca and her friends had left Billie gathered her things and left the hut. She climbed on her bike and started furiously pedaling away, making it to the pub in record time.

Billie burst through the door of the pub with such gusto that more than a couple of heads turned in her direction. She marched right up to the bar and ordered a shot of whiskey. Before the bartender could set it down Billie snatched the glass from his hand and slammed it back. “Another.” she asked. The bartender’s eyebrows were raised but he grabbed the bottle and poured more into her glass. Again she downed it all in one go and sucked a hiss through her teeth. “Another.”

“Are you sure you can—”

“Another.” She glared at him and he immediately poured her another heavy pour. She threw it back. He set the bottle down next to her while he got her a glass of water and left her to go check on other side of the bar. After making sure he wasn’t looking she grabbed the bottle and with her heavy hand poured the whiskey like it was water. But this time Billie waited a bit before drinking and took a sip instead of throwing it back like she’d been doing. She picked her glass up and studied the whiskey, noting how the amber liquid reflected the dim light of the pub. It was so pretty it reminded her of the wood beams and rigging that held the big top together. It reminded her of safety and support.

Billie’s headache was gone but in its place she felt nauseous as all of the shots she’d taken hit her at once. She set the glass back down and let her head fall to rest on the bar. Billie wanted to forget, she wanted to make everything go away. She lifted her head back up and took another sip of her drink. She wanted to be numbed out and she was well on her way to that point. She pulled out enough money for what she'd taken and stuck it under the glass of water.

Billie worked her way back to a table near the window and smiled to herself as she settled down. Billie loved how dark and moody the pub was; she loved how she could sink into the flickering shadows from all the candle light. There was an intimacy to the pub, a warmth that Billie found missing in the officer’s club. The officer’s club had an edge of respectability that got under Billie’s skin. She preferred places where people could fully let loose. She liked being with the common man. She was used to being with those described as rough around the edges, so even though she didn’t interact with any of them she felt at home with the pub’s patrons.

It didn’t take long for Billie to start wallowing about Rebecca. This wasn’t her first foray into mean girl drama but it had been a long while since she’d had to deal with it. She hadn’t thought that it was something she’d have to worry about but now that she was in it she felt like a fool for thinking it wouldn’t happen. Gossip and drama were a part of life no matter where one went and Thorpe Abbotts was no different. Billie should have been more prepared. She used to have thicker skin than this.

But even if she’d been prepared she’d still have gotten hurt over things she couldn’t change. It was frustrating because Billie knew she didn’t have anything to apologize for, nothing to be ashamed about. If men could live their lives sexually free then she had every right to do the same. She knew her truth and so did those who’s opinion she actually cared about. In the grand scheme of things Rebecca’s opinion didn’t matter and Billie should let it roll off of her like water off a duck’s back. Still, Billie did her best to drink away her bad mood.

Luckily she’d been left alone over the course of the night. It was as if she was giving off the aura of someone who shouldn’t be messed with. Billie supposed that since she was almost always in a good mood her brief moments of melancholy carried more weight than normal. She wondered what Rosie would do when she inevitably got this way around him. How would he respond when she was practically vibrating with negative energy and became a miserable bitch? Billie knew the effect her rare bad moods could have on those closest to her and she wasn’t looking forward to testing it with Rosie. It was a good thing she’d gone to the pub to drown her sorrows. Hopefully she’d be able to work her anger and shame out of her system so she’d be back to normal by the next time she saw Rosie.

Billie had been eyeing an arm wresting contest that had started across the room while absentmindedly carving a heart into the table with her pocket knife. The group of airmen looked like they were having the time of their lives, their enthusiasm taking off all the years stress had added to their faces. Arm wrestling had been one of the games they’d played as kids and Billie missed the thrill and feeling of slamming someone’s hand down. She loved games, she missed playing things. She set her knife down and rubbed her thumb over the finished carving, her nail catching on the corner and a splinter got caught under her nail. Billie hissed in pain but then managed to squeeze it out. This was justice coming for her for defacing the pub’s table. It was very on theme for how she was feeling.

Billie looked up to take a drink of her almost empty pint and saw Crosby heading directly for her. She’d never seen him at the pub in all of her time on base and even though she’d never thought about it before she realized that she’d unconsciously assumed he hated the pub like Rosie.

She waited until he came to stand right in front of her to greet him. “Good evening, Sir.”

“Good evening. I’ve been watching you.” Crosby said. Billie made a face and he scrambled to say, “Wait, that sounds awful. I didn’t mean that in a creepy way.”

Billie couldn’t help but laugh and gave a smile, “It’s okay, I get what you mean. What about it?’’

“It’s just that you seem upset and I wanted to see if you needed to talk about it.”

“How did you come to that conclusion?” Billie couldn’t help but be a bit defensive. She knew it was obvious but she was still sensitive.

“Judging by how many trips you took to the bar,” he nodded down at all of the empty glasses on her table. “It looks like you’re drinking for two.”

“If you want me to be embarrassed you’re shit out of luck.”

Crosby placed a glass of water in front of her then sat down in the seat across. Billie was annoyed, she felt like Crosby was babying her even though she knew he was just looking out for her. He was a good man she was grateful he had forgiven her after the blood drawing fiasco. Billie liked having him on her side even if it bothered her at times. She took a small sip of water and then went back to watching the arm contest over in the corner.

“I can tell you want to go over there.” Crosby observed.

“Is it that obvious?” Billie asked.

"A little. It’s all the staring.” Billie must have made some sort of face again because he reassured her by saying “It’s only because I was keeping an eye on you that I noticed.” He hesitated as if debating whether or not he should say something. “You seem more down than usual. And I’ve never seen you alone before without all your girls. Did something happen?”

Billie finished off her drink and gave a little shrug as she put the empty glass on the table with all the rest. She really didn’t want to answer Crosby’s question. A part of her thought that Crosby would actually be a good person to confide in since he’d probably respond well and give her some sort of advice, but everything was still too fresh. She couldn’t bare to talk about her embarrassment. Her self loathing was suffocating.

“Do you think I could win?” Billie nodded in the direction of the men arm wrestling.

“You want to go over and get in on it?” Crosby asked.

“Come on, tell me you don’t think I can. Give me a reason to prove you wrong.” It was the liveliest she’d been all night.

“Why do I feel like you somehow hustled me into coming over just so I could bet that you can’t beat someone in an arm wrestling contest?” Crosby said with a groan.

“I wish I could say I was that skilled. But what do you say? You think I should go for it?”

“You’re drunk is what I think.” He snarked.

“Do I seem drunk to you?” Billie asked. Besides her face getting flushed she was good at holding her drink. Normally she could be well beyond drunk and still act as if she was stone cold sober. But she wasn’t herself tonight and she wondered if she was off her game.

“No, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t. Looks can be deceiving.” he sighed. “But yes, I think you could beat someone. I don’t know if any of them are that someone but I know you’re going to try.”

“You’re a smart man, Crosby. I get why they promoted you.”

Mind made up that she was going to get in on the action she stood up from the table with such force she bumped the table causing the glasses to clang together.

“Easy now.” Crosby was startled by Billie’s sudden movement and moved to steady the glasses.

“You want to come watch?” She was on the move before he could answer.

As she got closer she realized that she didn’t recognize any of the airmen in the group but that wasn’t unusual. Like others on base she hadn’t been as good at keeping up with the new recruits as the original crews. Still, she marched forward smiling as if she knew them already and didn’t bother introducing herself.

“Evening gentlemen. Can I have the next round?” She asked.

“Yeah, we’ll have a couple of lagers.” The man who just won said with a smile to all his friends.

“No, I meant the game.” Billie pointed at the empty space between the men.

All of them looked at her confused. The one who just lost asked, “You want to arm wrestle us?”

“Not all of you, just whoever’s next. Normal rules, come on now.” She snapped her fingers at them to keep up.

“Look, ma’am. This sort of thing isn’t really for ladies.”

“Ladies can’t be strong?” she cocked an eyebrow and stared them down.

The one across from her visibly swallowed then saw something just over Billie’s shoulder and he sat up straighter.

“Why don’t you humor her?” Crosby asked from behind Billie, but it carried the weight of an order.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Now she felt bad for trying to have some fun. She didn’t want to get rank involved.

“I just don’t want to hurt you.” The airman said and Billie had to admit she appreciated the gesture. The guy meant well. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t know what Billie could handle.

“Oh you’re so sweet to be worried about me.” she put her hand over her heart. “But you don’t have to. It’s just been a while since I’ve arm wrestled. My brother and I used to all the time.

“I won’t take it easy on you like your brother, ma’am.”

“I’d be insulted if you did.” She shooed one of the guys out of their seat and plopped down. She stuck her arm out. “Are you going to let me have my fun or not?”

Billie won the first round easily. It was clear her opponent had completely misjudged her. Billie couldn’t help but love when men did that.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to go easy on her?” one his friends teased him. And Billie wanted to echo the question but figured it was best to chill on the table talk.

Her challenger was frustrated. He stuck his arm out to go again and Billie obliged. He was certainly trying harder but it didn’t take long for Billie to gain momentum. The guy’s face flushed, his whole face and neck red as he struggled to move her arm. Billie would be worried about him causing trouble but with Crosby behind her she knew she was safe. She was vaguely aware of more people around them but it wasn’t enough that she was worried about seriously wounding this guy’s pride. Her arm was beginning to hurt but Billie knew it was a level of pain she could push through for a while even though she’d be feeling the affects for far longer.

The man fell back into his chair in shock when Billie won the second round. He was still bright red and Billie couldn’t help it this time and laughed at the teasing his friends were doing. This was the sort of fun she didn’t know she needed to cheer herself up. Crosby didn’t join in on the teasing but smiled in amusement at Billie’s antics; he was relieved that Billie was starting to act like herself again.

“One more.” The airman looked determined like some little toddler trying their hardest to do something for the first time.

He was a young thing Billie realized, probably around her brother’s age and her heart throbbed at the thought. Billie wanted to squeeze his cheeks and and lecture him about one thing or another like she would with Eddie. The next best thing would be knocking him down a peg and reminding him women weren’t to be judged so easy. She grabbed his hand and situated herself for another round.

While he made a good attempt Billie still had him knocked down in under a minute. He looked completely stunned after being bested. Billie held her breath for how he was going to respond since it looked like he could start yelling and causing trouble. One never did know with these military men. But then he just barked out a loud laugh, one that was joined by Billie and all of his friends. Billie got out of her chair and thanked him for humoring her.

“It was my pleasure. It was nice to be reminded about the dangers of expectations.” He suck his hand out. “We never got around to introductions, sorry for being rude. Lieutenant Miller, ma’am.”

Billie shook his hand. “Please, just call me Billie. I can’t stand all of this formal stuff.” Billie waved her hand dismissively. “Anyways, thank you for giving me a little taste of the home front.” Billie gave a slight curtsy then turned to go back to her original table.

She stopped before sitting down and put her hands on her hips while she inspected the table. The only glass with anything in it was the water that Crosby had brought her and that wouldn’t do. She stepped towards the bar but Crosby stopped her.

“Do you really need another drink?” he asked.

“I’ll get a beer instead of whiskey, does that make you feel better?” She turned on her heels and stomped away before she could hear Crosby’s response.

Billie wormed her way into the mess of people crowded around the bar. As soon as she found a spot the person to her right left but before Billie could spread out the space was immediately filled. She took in the newcomer out of the corner of her eye. Judging from the uniform he was an RAF airman and Billie couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him. She’d heard enough stories about them messing with her guys that she couldn’t help but be annoyed by this guy on sight.

Billie was really annoyed when the airman’s arm brushed against her boob as he reached out to grab the bowl of nuts in front of her. She had to lean back to give him more space. She was a bit grossed out but tried to not think much of it beyond being a drunk accident and lack of awareness. But then the man leaned into her space again as he talked to his friend. Billie had a bad feeling but she stayed where she was.

She told the bartender what she wanted then started drumming her fingers on the bar top to distract herself. Suddenly Billie felt a hand start to go around her waist and she immediately stepped away out of reach.

“Hands to yourself!” Billie snapped.

“Come on now, love. I’m just having a little fun is all. I saw you having fun over there with all those tossers, you can have a little fun with me.” He leaned into her space with his face close enough that Billie could smell how drunk he was.

Billie hated that the beautiful accent was being ruined by words that made her want to gag. “I don’t want to have fun with you. And you can have fun without touching me.”

His hand went to her waist again but then went further. He grabbed her ass and she roughly pushed his arm away.

“Get off of me!” She was furious. She wanted to rip his arm off but she didn’t want to start any more trouble than was necessary.

“Do I need to buy you a drink first? I thought you Americans had no problem jumping right to it." He was leering at her like something out of a nightmare.

“Just leave me alone.” Billie was annoyed no one around her was doing anything in her defense but she wasn’t that surprised. People often kept to themselves when things like this happened. She looked over her shoulder and saw that Crosby had left their table and was quickly coming towards her. He looked concerned and was staring down the man giving Billie a hard time.

“Here ya go little lady.” The bartender placed a pint down in front of her and Billie felt like she could breathe again. Now she’d be able to get away from the creep and carry on with her night. She turned her back on him and took a step away from the bar to meet Crosby in the crowd and go back to their table.

“Wait, where you going? You have a drink so now we can talk.” The man reached out and grabbed her with both hands around her waist. He pulled her backwards into him causing Billie to spill half of her drink onto the floor. Billie saw red and she almost threw the glass on the ground.

She twisted to the right and swung her left hand around to punch him straight in the face. It was like she put all of her strength behind the punch because the guy immediately crumpled, his head hitting the top of the bar before he slumped to the ground.

Billie felt like she was watching this all play out from an outsider’s perspective and she looked a disheveled mess standing over this guy with her fist clenched and breathing so hard her whole body was shaking. Everyone seemed to be frozen around her even though she knew people had to be reacting. She came back to herself and leaned over the man to put her drink back on the bar. He groaned but didn’t make any move to get up.

“Sorry about that.” She apologized to the bartender who was looking at her in shock just like everyone else around her. Billie was mortified at the attention and turned to run out of the pub.

Billie’s eyes began to sting as soon as her face hit the cool night air. She held back her tears long enough to dart around to the side of the pub and find a place in the shadows to lean against the wall. Billie was crying as soon as her back hit the bricks with a hand covering her mouth to keep from making a sound. She didn’t need any more attention on herself. She’d only just stopped shaking when she heard a group of men leaving and one of them saying something about “that bitch.”

“Yeah, but that bitch threw a mighty left hook.” Someone said.

They laughed and Billie took a step away from the sound. One split away from the group and started down the back alley towards Billie. In an instant Billie felt more sober than she’d ever been and again she stepped further back along the wall deeper into the shadows. He stopped a couple of feet from the front of the building and Billie heard him unzip his pants. She turned away and clamped her hand tighter over her mouth to keep back her nervous laughter as he took a piss. Billie stayed frozen against the wall as the man finished and returned to his group. Her breaths were slow to steady but eventually evened out as the voices faded and once they disappeared she dropped her hand from her mouth to study it.

She couldn’t see much with the miserable lighting in the back alley but she could tell she was bleeding. Her hand was throbbing in time with her still racing heart. With her knuckles a couple of inches from her face she noted that it wasn’t that serious of a thing despite what the amount of blood would imply. She’d probably caught the corner of one of his teeth since she did come at him from a bit of an angle. The memory of her closest friend Charles warning her of this very thing when he first taught her to throw a punch floated through her mind and she couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped out from her dry lips. Charles would be so frustrated with her but she knew that after pulling her into a headlock he’d whisper that he was proud of her and compliment her form. With how quickly the asshole had gone down she knew that she’d had the form worth complimenting.

Billie went to wipe off some of the blood on her skirt but stopped herself. She could stain her skirt and she didn’t want to deal with the hassle of getting the bloodstains out. She slumped back against the wall of the pub and leaned her head back so she could stare up at the stars. Billie felt woozy and a little nauseous so she crouched down on the ground and wrapped her arms around her legs. She waved her injured hand hang gently in the air so the breeze could help dry the blood and she could go back to using her hand freely again. Once the blood was dry she’d start the long trip home. There was no way she was going to be able to ride her bike being so drunk so she was going to have to walk it. Once again Billie was regretting her choices of the night.

Billie looked back up at the stars and thought about how exhausted she was. It wouldn’t take much for her to fall asleep right there. She felt like a wet rag being rung out after having felt practically every emotion throughout the course of the day. But despite the high of Rosie returning safely the devastating blow of Rebecca’s remarks weighed Billie down. Even though she wasn’t ashamed of how she’d responded to the RAF creep she felt like she’d somehow proved Rebecca right and she hated it. Billie felt like she was going to cry again and put her hands over her eyes as if she could physically keep the tears from coming out.

“Nurse James? Billie, you back there?”

A voice came from the other end of the alley by the front of the pub. Billie wiped at her eyes as she stood up and squinted at the figure coming closer to her. It was Crosby.

“I figured you might want this.” He was holding out a makeshift ice pack and Billie was touched at his gesture.

“Thank you. Yeah, this will really help.” She shuddered when she put the icepack on her knuckles but pushed through the slight discomfort. Soon she felt nothing but relief.

“I settled up for you inside. Can I walk you back to your quarters?” Crosby asked.

Billie must have given him some sort of look because he was quick to add, “It’s just that I don’t think Rosie would forgive me if I let you walk home alone.” he cleared his throat. “Especially after what just happened.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“I know, but I’m going to do it anyways. Look at it this way, I’d do this to any of my friends who drank almost an entire bottle of whiskey on their own over the night.” he reasoned.

Billie figured she couldn’t argue her way out of it so she simply shrugged with acceptance. “Guess we best be off then.”

“After you.” Crosby stepped aside and gestured with his hand that Billie should lead the way. Billie stumbled with the first step she took and Crosby rushed forward to help her.

“I’m okay.” Billie reassured him as she straightened up.

She grabbed the icepack from where she’d dropped it on the ground and looked at how the rag was now covered in dirt. It was essentially useless now that she couldn’t put it back on her open wound. So much for nice things. Billie took a deep breath before starting to walk again, quickly coming to Crosby’s side and matching his pace. Once they were walking with their bikes she realized just how drunk she was and she was suddenly more grateful than annoyed that Crosby wanted to walk her home.

They walked in silence for a couple of minutes. Billie could tell that she was slightly swaying and was grateful Crosby wasn’t treating her more like a kid who couldn’t handle their drink and simply gave her the space to stumble along. It helped having the bike to keep her steady.

“How do you think you’re going to tell Rosie about this one?” Crosby asked interrupting the silence.

“Oh, I’m not going to tell Rosie.” Billie said bluntly.

“What do you mean? You have to tell him.” Crosby was confused.

“No I don’t. And neither do you. You can keep this quiet can’t you? Please?” Billie didn’t want to resort to begging but more so she didn’t want news of the night to get back to Rosie. So she’d beg if she must.

“Do you really think that you can keep him from finding out? I wasn’t the only witness in there. It’ll be the talk all around the breakfast tables tomorrow.”

Billie groaned, “But I can still try.” She kicked a rock as she pouted like a kid. “I can’t even think about talking to Rosie until I’ve sobered up.”

As if on cue Billie felt like she was going to throw up and stumbled off to the side of the gravel path leaving a startled Crosby and her bike behind. She hunched over and started dry heaving, only vaguely aware of Crosby coming up behind her pressing his hand gently on her back. She spat then coughed.

“Are you okay?” Crosby asked.

“I’m not going to let myself throw up if that’s what you’re asking.” Billie said then spat again.

“You say that as if you can will yourself not to be sick. If that was possible I would know, trust me.” He thought for a moment. “Is that really something you can do? A circus thing? You have to teach me if it is.”

Billie laughed. “No, that’s not one of my special skills. It’s mostly hope and drunk confidence that I can keep it all down. I hate having to be sick in public.”

“Something you’re familiar with?”

“I don’t like the judgement in your tone.” Billie snipped and stood up. She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand and then gave a smile to Crosby. “But yes, that’s something I’m familiar with.”

“Here.” Crosby handed Billie a mint. “They help me, maybe they’ll do something for you too.”

Billie took the mint, unwrapped it and popped it in her mouth. “Thanks.”

They started back up again, though a bit slower this time. They had just entered the base’s bounds when Billie broke the comfortable silence that had fallen back over them.

“What were you even doing slumming it at the pub tonight with the rest of us? Normally you stick to the officer’s club like Rosie.” She waved around her injured hand and said, “The pub’s drunken debauchery isn’t really your style.” She had meant to ask earlier in the night but had forgotten in the midst of everything.

“I don’t hate it, it just gives me a headache.” he answered.

“Semantics.” Billie wanted an answer.

“I made a promise to some of the new guys.” Crosby’s response didn’t tell Billie anything but she figured it was best to accept his simple explanation. She was the dangerous combination of wasted and nosy but she held herself back.

“I’m trying to work on the whole bonding thing.” Crosby elaborated while making a pained face that made Billie laugh.

“You’re really suffering, aren’t you?”

Crosby brushed off her teasing with an eye roll but then turned serious. “I know it’s hard but I’m trying to take a page out of the Majors’ book.” he shrugged. “As much as I don’t want to get close to them it’s important for me to be familiar. I have to do what I can to take care of them, they’re my responsibility. And sometimes taking care of them means suffering a night in the pub.”

“You almost sounded like Buck there at the end, complaining about Bucky.”

Crosby chuckled. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.” He shook his head as he thought back on the Majors. “None of us will ever be able to do what they did.”

“But you can do things your way.” Billie encouraged. She leaned over and elbowed Crosby’s arm harder than she intended causing him to stumble slightly.

“I’m certainly trying.” Crosby answered as he righted himself.

“You know, I think trying is one of the most admirable things someone could ever do.” Billie said. “So many people know they should do something but they’re too scared to make themselves do it. So many people can’t act! Life is all about momentum. You know, it’s like back when I was first learning the trapeze and I would get frozen up on the platform. I would be paralyzed up there staring down at the people who looked like ants and I couldn’t do anything! I could never just start right away even though I knew it would be for the best. That was the hardest habit for me to shake off. My dad used to get so mad at me.” she trailed off with a laugh.

Billie suddenly stopped in her tracks and pointed a finger at Crosby who was looking back very confused at her drunk rambling. She wasn’t sure if she was going to make sense but she continued, “Once you get moving it’s easier to keep moving. And it’s easier to start back up than starting from scratch. Starting is the hard part and you’ve already done that! Now you’re in the thick of it doing the necessary thing which is something to be proud of.”

“Thank you… I think?”

“You’re welcome.” She clapped her hand on his back. “Your men are lucky to have you watching over them. You make a difference.” She really hoped he knew how serious she was. Crosby wasn’t the type to easily accept a compliment.

Crosby went to answer but was cut off by a loud laugh coming from behind the building directly to their left. A moment later and a group of airmen came around the corner heading in their direction. As if by some sort of magnetism Billie’s eyes immediately went to Rosie in the back who was laughing with Pappy beside him. Of course it would be Rosie. She really hadn’t wanted him to see her in this state but there was no avoiding it now.

“How’s that plan of keeping the whole thing from Rosie going?” Crosby seemed to have noticed Rosie too, much to Billie’s dismay.

“Sometimes I really can’t stand you, Croz.”

Crosby let out a laugh, taken aback but amused by Billie’s response. And as was her luck of the night Crosby’s laughter had drawn Rosie’s attention.

“That you, Harry?” Rosie broke from the pack and jogged ahead of them to reach the pair quicker. His face brightened when he realized Billie was next to Crosby and Billie felt her heart up in her throat as she received Rosie’s full attention. Somehow she was feeling both incredibly sober and like she’d just taken another chug of whiskey at the same time. Billie didn’t think she’d ever be able to make sense of the way Rosie made her feel. She swallowed nervously but smiled back and did a little wave.

“Good evening, you two.” Rosie didn’t stop as he came up to them. Instead he pulled Billie into his arms and swung her around to start dancing along to whatever song was in his head. Billie couldn’t help but laugh delightedly as she easily fell in step alongside Rosie. She could barely feel her hand throbbing with Rosie’s holding it. Crosby watched with a smile as the pair danced without noticing the group of airmen having to go out of their way to avoid the two.

“You’ve had a quite a bit to drink haven’t you?” Billie teased Rosie when they came to a stop and she leaned into his side to rest her head briefly on his shoulder.

“I could say the same about you my dear.” Rosie wrapped his arm around Billie to keep her steady against him. He turned his attention to Crosby standing near their bikes.

“What’s with the ice pack?” Rosie was looking at the ice pack Crosby was still holding after picking it up when Billie was almost sick. Billie had forgotten all about it. “What happened?”

“It’s not mine.” Crosby said and Billie bit her tongue to hold back a groan of frustration at his honesty.

Rosie looked her up and down and Billie shifted, for once uncomfortable with Rosie’s full attention on her. Without really thinking about it she moved her injured left hand behind her back, but she hadn’t realized that Rosie would feel her arm move since it was the one next to his side. He didn’t miss a thing and immediately moved to grab her arm and pull it out from behind her back.

“What happened?” Rosie asked, his tone no longer light and joking. He’d traced his way down her arm and was gently cradling her hand in his, the thumbs ghosting over the dried blood.

“This, oh it’s nothing.” Billie pulled her hand away from Rosie’s while taking a small step back. She hid her hand behind her back again. Maybe if she kept it out of sight Rosie would stay calm. She started shifting her weight side to side, swaying nervously.

“It’s something worth an ice pack.”

“It’s been a long night, Rosie, we don’t need to get into it.”

“I’m going to ask again and I’d really appreciate if you told me yourself. What happened?” Rosie’s tone had shifted into something so serious Billie stopped moving. Now wasn’t the time to play around.

“It was just a misunderstanding.” Still, Billie really didn’t want to get into it. Her worst fear was that Rosie would look at her different if he knew she started trouble even if she all she did was defend herself. She didn’t want to find out if he thought of her in the same way Rebecca did. She didn’t think her heart could handle that kind of hurt after the night she’d had.

“Why are you defending that guy?” Crosby asked Billie.

“Harry, leave it.” Billie snapped.

“No, Harry, go on. What do you mean? What guy?” Rosie asked, getting heated.

“Not one of ours. One of the RAF guys took an interest in Billie and wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Crosby explained while ignoring the killer look Billie was shooting at him.

“So you said no in a way he’d understand you?” Rosie directed his question at Billie, inferring the rest of the story.

“I’m not going to apologize.” Billie crossed her arms defensively with a huff. She was still terrified of him treating her different but she wasn’t one to be ashamed of defending herself.

“I didn’t say you needed to.” Rosie looked at Crosby. “Do you think you could recognize him if you saw him again?”

“Rosie, honey, leave it alone.” She grabbed his chin and pulled his face back to face hers.

“I’m not going to leave it alone!” Rosie’s voice echoed loud around them and Billie was proud of herself for not flinching at the sudden increase in volume.

Billie had never seen Rosie this worked up. Now that he’d been by her side for a while Billie realized that he’d had more to drink than he originally let on. He was more drunk than he’d ever been around her before. To be fair, this was the most drunk she’d ever been around him too. A part of her was beyond pleased that he was so upset on her behalf but the rest of her didn’t think she was worth all the fuss.

“It’s okay, I took care of it. He’s not going to do it again, I’m fine. It’s not worth getting worked up over.” Again she tried to reassure him.

“But you shouldn’t have to take care of whatever it is.” he said with a frown, voice back to a respectable volume. He reached a hand out and cradled the side of her face. She couldn’t help but lean into the palm of his hand. He let out a sigh.“You’re always taking care of it by yourself when I want to be the one taking care of you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you to protect you. You deserve that at the very least and I failed you.”

“You’re just drunk talking sweet, come on. You have nothing to apologize for, really, Rosie.” Billie reassured him with a smile as she wrapped her hand around Rosie’s wrist.

“I know you know I’m serious.” He dropped his hand from her face. “You shouldn’t have to fight battles all on your own.” Rosie studied her for a moment. “Life hasn’t been kind to you but that doesn’t mean it’s always going to this way.” His voice lowered to a whisper and Billie felt a stirring deep within her. “I could give you what you deserve.”

Billie didn’t know what to say to Rosie’s confession, his words weighed heavy on her chest making it hard to take a breath. She was too drunk, Rosie was too drunk, for them to be having a conversation like this. She cleared her throat and looked around suddenly uncomfortable with the thought of looking at Rosie. If she looked at him she was sure she’d burst into tears. He was just too much and she was too emotionally unstable to handle his sincerity. She needed to find a distraction. She saw her bike standing alone with no Crosby in sight.

“Looks like we’ve been abandoned.” She said.

Rosie laughed lightly as he noted that Crosby had in fact vanished at some point while the two had been wrapped up in each other. He walked over to the bike and grabbed hold of the handles. He gestured his head in the direction of the Billie’s hut. “Ready to move?”

Billie came to his side and they started down the path. They’d only gone a couple of yards when Rosie stopped. Billie looked at him, confused, but then Rosie stuck out his hand. Billie looked at it and debated with herself over whether or not she should take it. She hadn’t made her mind up but when Rosie started pulling his hand back Billie snatched it without a second thought. She was blushing like crazy but she refused to make eye contact with Rosie. She could picture his face perfectly and she preened inside at being able to put a smile on his face. She gave in and peeked to confirm what she’d assumed and was pleased to see Rosie was in fact smiling dopily ahead and blushing just as much as she was.

Rosie pulled her along the path with one hand, the other controlling Billie’s bike. Billie was grateful no one was around because she loved the feeling of Rosie’s hand in hers a bit too much. They came upon a bench and Rosie leaned the bike against the back.

He looked at her with a bashful smile, “Let’s sit for a bit.”

Billie nodded in agreement and they settled onto the bench with Billie not fully pressed into Rosie’s side but certainly sitting closer than what was standard.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Rosie asked.

“Harry already told you what happened.” Billie grumbled.

“That’s not what I meant.” Rosie reached out and brushed back a stray piece of Billie’s hair off her face. Chills rushed down Billie’s arms as his fingers gently traced the back of her ear. She ached for more of his touch as soon as his fingers left her skin.

“What did you mean then?” Once again Billie was pretty sure she knew what he meant but she couldn’t stop herself from asking. Knowing Rosie he picked up on the root of the problem and wanted to attack it head on. While she admired that about him it was frustrating being on the receiving end of his pointed observations.

“I thought you wanted a quiet night.” He lifted her injured hand up and quickly kissed her knuckles. “This isn’t quiet.”

Billie looked away from Rosie but didn’t pull her hand away. “I don’t know if I can talk about it quite yet.” She confessed while staring at how their fingers wrapped around each other.

“Is it about Eddie?”

Billie looked back up at Rosie. He’d always been so easy for her to read but now that he was drunk he was an open book. He was so worried for her it made Billie’s heart skip a beat. It was so sweet of him to ask about her brother first. Again she was struck with the thought that she didn’t deserve him.

She shook her head and answered, “No, it’s nothing to do with Eddie.” Billie sighed and said, “It’s embarrassing…” she trailed off with a weak chuckle.

Billie ran her free hand through her hair and her fingers caught on a couple of knots but she forced them through. She ripped out a couple of strands and tossed them out onto the ground in front of their bench. Billie felt so childish, so petty complaining to Rosie about gossip. She didn’t want to ruin his opinion of anyone even if she thought they deserved it. She knew how well respected Rebecca was on base. Billie didn’t want anyone else to get involved. Christ, she didn’t even think she could talk to Barbara about what she’d overheard.

Rosie’s thumb rubbed over the back of her hand and Billie was pulled back into the moment. She felt herself leaning further into Rosie’s side. She’d fantasized countless times about what it would feel like to be wrapped up in his arms but none of them came close to the real thing.

“I said it before and I’ll say it again, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I hope you know I’m here for you. You can talk to me about anything. There is nothing embarrassing you could possibly say that would put me off.” He let go of her hand and reached a finger out to playfully tap the tip of Billie’s nose. “Did I ever tell you about when I met Majors Egan and Cleven?”

Billie shook her head. “I don’t think so, no.”

Rosie was blushing fiercely but smiled as he said, “Let’s just say talking about flying in your skivvies doesn’t make the best first impression.”

Billie threw her head back and cackled. “You’re not serious!”

“I wish I could say I was joking.”

The sound of footsteps on the gravel and laughter behind them interrupted Billie asking for the whole story. Rosie straightened up and pulled away from Billie to give more than the illusion of a respectable distance between them. Billie hated how sick the sudden distance made her feel. She wanted him back. She felt weightless without his arm around her but for the first time in her life she hated the feeling. She needed grounding.

The pair were quiet while the group of airmen walked behind them and their banter did little to fill the space between Billie and Rosie. Billie suddenly realized Rosie had listened to what she’d said all those hours ago. He was respecting her wishes and letting her set the pace. It felt like it had been an entire lifetime since she’d shied away from his advance. But the more she thought about it the more Billie found herself opposing her original stance. She’d already proved Rebecca right that night so Billie figured she might as well go all in on bringing the gossip to life.

People were still walking behind them, an unknown number of witnesses but Billie mentally pushed them aside and leaned back into Rosie’s side to close the distance he’d created. An unspoken gesture of consent; the invitation he said he would wait for. His arm immediately wrapped around her shoulder and pulled her until two were pressed tighter together than they’d been before. Billie couldn’t help but giggle as she settled into her new position practically on top of Rosie’s lap. She couldn’t bare to move. He pressed a kiss onto the top of her forehead and Billie barely held back a whimper. It was such a soft sweet thing but she couldn’t remember the last time someone had kissed her forehead. Her stomach flipped as she followed the train of thought and realized, not for the first time, that no one had ever treated her with the reverence Rosie seemed to hold for her.

She stretched her neck to look up at Rosie through her eyelashes. He looked as drunk as Billie felt and Billie knew with every fiber in her being that Rosie wouldn’t kiss her unless she initiated it. Even though his dilated eyes kept darting from hers to her lips. Just like she could only pull herself away from thinking about what his mustache would feel like against her skin to stare back into his blue eyes. Billie felt ridiculous but nothing felt as right to her as looking at Rosie up close like this. She wanted to look at him for the rest of her life. Without another thought Billie stretched her neck and pressed her lips to his.

Rosie was slow to respond and Billie was desperate for more. She pulled back the slightest bit and parted her lips. The beginning of saying something, she didn’t know what, was on the tip of her tongue but Rosie stopped her from apologizing or begging for more by closing the distance with a passion that Billie hadn’t been expecting. It was quick to get heavy between them with tongues and hands and Billie felt like she was flying. Rosie’s hands went to her hair and Billie couldn’t help but gasp. The sound seemed to spur Rosie on and his hands moved to cradle her face, keeping her in place while he took what he wanted and what she eagerly gave. Billie had never had this much fun with just kissing. But then he suddenly broke away and dropped his hands as if they were burning. Billie sucked in a deep breath as she struggled to steady her breathing. Her head felt like it weight ten more pounds without Rosie’s hands there to steady her.

“We need to stop, I don’t want to rush this,” he said seeming to be as out of sorts as she was if his breathing was anything to go by. “I want to savor you.”

“But I’m having too much fun.” she pouted. Billie knew she was being confusing going back and forth with what she was comfortable with and Rosie deserved better than her instability. But she was too drunk to try and lie to Rosie. Besides, she didn’t like lying to Rosie.

She didn’t want more than necking in public right now, she didn’t even know if Rosie could handle more than that, but she wanted to keep going. It had been ages since she’d kissed anyone and she’d forgotten just how much she liked it. There was such a lovely intimacy to a good kiss. The real issue was now she knew what it was like to kiss someone she had proper feelings for. Billie had never kissed anyone like Rosie and she wasn’t sure if anyone would be able to live up to him. It was all so ridiculous because in some ways the kiss had been such a mild thing and yet it was the most life changing kiss Billie had ever had. She was on a high like no other and she didn’t want to stop. But she was weak willed when it came to Rosie and she’d do whatever he asked of her. “This is the opposite of taking things slow. Besides you deserve better than a moonlight tryst outside where anyone can see.” He started brushing her hair back, trying to undo the mess he’d made.

“I really don’t have it in me to care right now.” She confessed and leaned her head down on his chest.

“Well that’s very progressive of you.”

She pulled back and studied Rosie. “Are you worried about my honor?” She phrased it as a question but in Billie’s heart it was a statement. She didn’t know how but there were times when she could just tell what he was thinking and this was one of them.

“Well you said you wanted respectable and I’m trying my hardest over here but you’re making it hard looking at me like that.” His voice dropped, “You’re absolutely beautiful. I hope you’ve been told that a lot over your life because it’s true.” he said almost to himself as if he didn’t realize he was talking out loud. He traced a finger along her jaw and started to go up to her lips but then he dropped his hand.

Billie had the sudden realization that Rosie probably thought she was a virgin. He probably thought that when she said she was inexperienced he’d assumed in every way. It seemed he hadn’t let any rumors or assumptions get to him. She felt like she owed it to him to be upfront with where she was really at. She was terrified of what he was going to think of her, if he was going to cut things off. It would be the hardest thing to recover from if Rosie broke her heart.

She took a deep breath and said, “I’ve never been with a man.”

“I know, you said that earlier.”

“Romantically. I haven’t been with a man romantically. But I have physically.” Rosie’s face was blank and Billie was quick to continue, “See, I’ve never dated anyone. I’ve never… I’ve never been serious about someone. And no one has ever been serious about me.” She looked at their hands. “I’ve done things I shouldn’t be proud of but the thing is… I wouldn’t be who I am today if I hadn’t made those choices.” And that was a truth Billie wasn’t proud of. So much of her self worth had been built off her body; being approved of sexually was just as formative for her confidence as was meeting her father’s expectations for performing.

Rosie didn’t say anything and Billie was too scared to look at him to see how he was feeling. If she read his face and saw any sort of disapproval or disappointment she didn’t think her heart would survive. “Does that surprise you?” she asked while running her thumb over the back of Rosie’s hand.

Rosie shook his head. “Honestly, nothing about you surprises me.”

Billie didn’t know how to take that and she said as such. She didn’t dare look at him. Rosie was quiet again as he thought about how to explain himself. He started playing with her hair and she couldn’t help but lean into his touch like some sort of animal getting pet. She held back voicing her desire for him to tug just a bit harder knowing it would lead to things getting carried away again.

“You come across someone who has this distinctively unique life experience. It’s just as you said, you wouldn’t be who you are if you hadn’t made those choices. And who am I to judge you for those choices? You shouldn’t feel like you have to apologize for living your life. You are who you are and I happen to like who you are.”

“That’s funny because I feel like I’ve barely lived a life at all.” Billie said with a disgruntled chuckle still refusing to look at Rosie. She didn't want to acknowledge his confession of feelings, she was blushing too hard to speak on it.

“Well whatever life it was, I’m glad it brought you to me.” He pressed a kiss onto the top of Billie’s head.

“You can’t just say things like that.” She finally looked up at Rosie who was looking back confused.

“What did I say?” he asked.

“It’s like you’re straight out of my dreams. You’re too good to be true.” Billie said breathlessly.

She was getting sidetracked by some of Rosie’s curls peeking out from under his hat. Billie wanted a turn with her hands in his hair. She raised her hand without thinking about it but let it hover by the side of Rosie’s face as she debated whether or not she should start something. She wanted to but she didn’t know if she should. Billie thought back to what she was talking to Crosby about, momentum. She dropped her hand.

“And you call me the sweet talker.” Rosie caught her hand as it fell and brought it up to his lips. She loved when he did that, it made her feel like the respectable lady she'd been told her whole life she wasn't.

Billie blushed and curled in on Rosie to hide her face. She felt so safe being in Rosie’s arms she never wanted to leave. She shifted to wrap her arms around him as best she could and leaned her head on his chest as they held each other. His racing heartbeat seemed perfectly in time with her own. Billie really didn’t want anyone to see them wrapped up in each other but at the same time she didn’t have it in her to care one bit who saw them. Rebecca herself could come up in front of them and Billie wouldn’t be able to pull herself away. She just couldn’t resist Rosie. His arms tightened around her and Billie knew the feeling was mutual.

#sorry this took forever to write ! hopefully the next bit won't take as long !! but i am the way i am so ?!!#masters of the air #masters of the air fanfiction #mota fanfic #mota fanfiction #rosie rosenthal x oc #masters of the air oc #rosiegirlie writes

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