#misunderstoodcreatures

A month ago, if someone would’ve told her she’d end up here, hand in hand with the handsome male who she’s spent said last month getting to know, Rosie might’ve laughed in their face. Walking down the length of La Push beach is nice, normal, even, and for someone who has spent more time running from her demons over embracing them? Rosie doesn’t believe she deserves any of this, but she’s grateful for the change of pace. Grateful for Jacob and how open and kind he’s been to her and while the tension between them is palpable, he hasn’t so much as made a move on her, yet. Rosie can feel it, though - she can feel the desire run rampant beneath her skin every time he’s near her, every time he encompasses her tiny hand with his own much larger one. Rosie wants him - she wants to know what the curve of his mouth feels like against her own, if he tastes as warm as she believes he does. She wants to feel his strong arms wrapped around her tiny frame, wants to feel him inside of her. 

But she’s put all of that aside in favor of getting to know him, of building this friendship they’ve built and finding a trust she’s never felt with another person before. “Your home is beautiful, Jacob,” Rosie compliments, swinging their clasped hands between them. He’s taken the lead ever since they stepped foot in Forks, Washington and Rosie is inclined to continue to let him call the shots for as long as he wants to. “Thank you for bringing me here and sharing it with me.” There’s a calmness to the reservation Rosie hadn’t expected and it’d been so strange, listening to people speak kindly to her, asking about her, rather than demanding something physical from her. Is this how normal, undamaged people lived their lives? 

“Bree?” Pancho called as he stepped into their shared apartment, remembering only at the last second to nudge his shoes off to the side of the welcome mat so as to not lay a trip hazard for Bree for the umpteenth time. “Did you steal my hoodie again? The blue one. I couldn’t find it this morning and---” He noted the both the silence of the apartment around him and the lack of Bree’s coat in its customary place. “. . . And you’re not here, so I’m talking to myself.” Deciding to take initiative and look for it himself, figuring it has probably made its way to her side of the wardrobe from his, he made his way back to the bedroom.

Making a mental note to clean up his side of the wardrobe a little once he’d found his hoodie, he stepped further into the wardrobe to look, pausing when his foot bumped something on the floor. Pancho bent down to look, realizing it was Bree’s memory box. He hadn’t realized she’d still kept one; somehow, he’d missed it when he’d moved things into the wardrobe when he’d first moved in with her. The force of his foot colliding with the box had caused the lid to pop off. A few things appeared to have also been knocked askew in the box. Not enough to have caused them to fall out, but they were poking up above the top of the box. He cringed as he bent down, hoping he hadn’t ruined anything of hers that held sentimental value.

The first thing he saw was a selfie they’d taken on a digital camera, going by his hair and their combined fashion sense, in their early teenage years. A little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Pancho didn’t want to go snooping in Bree’s things, though, so he moved to tuck everything back into the box so the lid would fit. But something else caught his attention.

A piece of paper, folded and lightly yellowed with age, bearing his name in Bree’s handwriting. A letter of some kind?

Against his better judgment, he reached for the letter and unfolded it. The date was the first thing that grabbed his gaze. Bree had been in Honduras then. She’d written him a number of times during that time; what had made her not send this particular letter?

The answer to that particular question found him quickly, slamming into him so hard that he toppled back into an ungainly seated sprawl on the ground with a sharp exhale, back hitting the side of a nightstand beside the bed. Pancho had gone to visit her with the rest of the Ken.obis in Honduras. That was the first time they’d made the attempt to get past being friends who occasionally had sex. And they’d been very successful. Until Pancho had gotten back to the States and Bree went almost entirely silent a few months later.

She’d been pregnant. But considering there had been no baby, she’d never said a word about pregnancy, and that one video chat they’d had where she’d looked so sad. . . His stomach clenched, tears stinging his eyes as he took in a shuddering breath. She’d lost the baby.

“Why does this feel like it’s taking forever?” Kara asked, glancing over to Thor before back to the small item in her hand. She had never been good at waiting for things, especially not when she was on edge and excited about the potential outcome. But she also knew that getting fidgety over this would not speed it up anymore. 

The sickness had been a rather odd moment, but nothing overly noticeable. It was only when she missed her period that she began to wonder. She really didn’t want to get her hopes up, but the idea of starting a family with Thor was overwhelmingly amazing. He was kind hearted, sweet, loving, funny.... Every positive attribute she could think of could be used to describe him. He would make a wonderful father, but she had to cut herself off before she became too attached to the idea. 

“What do ya mean we have anotha sister!?” Ethan yelled at the family attorney, clearly distraught about the hidden truth. Eliza shook her head while resting her hand on her twin’s arm to calm him down, her perfect lips in a permanent frown. “Who is she, Jebediah?” She asked the older man, a friend of her father’s. “Now, why do ya ask her ya self? ‘Member, ya two, she is as confused as you both. An’ boy, ya bettah bite that tongue of yours an’ treat the young Miss with utmost respect like ya momma taught ya. I’ll go get her now...”

The twins silently exchanged looks when the family attorney exited the room, leaving the two in their thoughts and silently voicing their concerns and trying to sum up any kid of answers. “Papa would never be unfaithful to Mama...” Eliza whispered her reassurance to Ethan.

Kylo Ren sat with his legs crossed, breathing steady and even. He had been feeling a disconnect in the Force, and he was doing his best to find his way back. After what felt like eternity of silence, he huffed in defeat.

His veins began to run hot, and it took everything in him not to let it out on the nearest thing he saw. Stopping himself, he took in a slow, deep breath.

‘Not now,’ he thought. Instead, he decided to pay his grandmother a visit. Her energy always helped clear his mind.

Ren had frequented her chambers enough that the walk there was thoughtless. Before he really gained aware of his surroundings, he was knocking on her door. 

  One thing Rey had discovered in her time since leave Jakku was the Force was a curious thing. A thousand years worth of Sacred Jedi Text sat in her lap, and yet none of what she’d experienced since leaving Exogol could be found. He was gone, she’d seen him disappear. And yet, she could feel him. And not in the you’ll always carry him in your heart sort of way she’d been greeted with from person after person after returning to the Resistance Camp. Of course they’d been speaking to her Of Leia, but the same principles applied so she gathered .

The days seemed to run together with no real beginning and no real end, no purpose, simply being. She’d slept more than she’d anticipated at first. Her friends writing off as exhaustion due to what had taken place. It was Chewie who’d sought her out first. He understood best. “ He’s gone Chewie.” She’d told the Wookie one particularly hard night when she’d sworn she could hear him call her from a dream only to find herself alone. “ I know he’s gone, but I still feel him—and not just here.” her hand falling against her heart as if it would draw him into the room at any moment.