#(and i feel like voice acting has moved away from silly fake accents and more into using genuine representation?)

[ryssabrin]

i've been talking a lot less about dumb twitter discourse because i've pretty much blocked almost all of datwt at this point lol but the last one i've finally decided is block on sight is "ugh why are there so many american accents in dav"

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Love On-Set (Pt. 02 of 10)

Pairing: Dacre Montgomery X Reader

Summary: You knew acting on Stranger Things season 3 would be a challenge, and you also knew, from the start, you'd have to work closely with Dacre Montgomery. But is wasn't a big deal for you, since this is your job and you're determined to act professionally. You had it all figured out, or so you thought, until the moment you were out face to face with Dacre. Then, this job became a lot harder than it was supposed to be, since you can't seem to focus whenever you're around Dacre. And you'll have to be around him a lot until the end of production.

Word count: 2.9K

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{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

×

Feelings

On the next morning, you make your way to the back of the hotel, where a van will come to pick you up. You're talking to Vicky through the phone, listening to her advice and tips for today. She won't be around as much this time, she wants you to build your own connections, but she will be aware of everything that's going on. The co-stars you'll be working with today are a few feet ahead, chatting, and they haven't noticed you yet. You don't mind though. They've been acting together for two years now, you wouldn't have anything to add to their conversations anyway.

“(Y/N).” The voice makes you turn around, seeing Dacre as he walks over you. “Morning.”

“Vicky, I gotta go. Talk to you later. Bye.” Quickly, maybe too quick, you hang up, focusing on Dacre. “Hi. Good morning.” Nervously, you gesture at the others. “You should go stay with them. The van is almost here.”

“I'll introduce you to them, c'mon.” With a hand on the small of your back, barely touching you though, he guides you to the small group of people. “Hey, guys. Good morning. This is (Y/N), our Amy.”

“Hi there,” Joe says, reaching out his hand which you shake. “I'm Joe.”

“Natalia.” One of the girls says. You already know their names, but decide to let them formally introduce themselves. “These are Charlie and Francesca. But you can call her Fran.”

“Hello.” You mutter, shaking their hands before stepping back to stand beside Dacre.

“Heard you two shot together yesterday,” Joe says, typing something on his phone before putting it on his pocket. “I was there earlier but I think I left before you got there.”

“Yes. And I must say (Y/N) was amazing.” Dacre speaks before you can, and you blush at his compliment. You didn't do much, you think, it was just a simple scene. More complicated things will come.

“Thanks, but you were great too. I'm just trying to keep up.”

“It's good to see you're modest,” Francesca remarks, giving you a small smile.

“Just saying the truth.” You're still speaking when the van arrives, and the guys gesture for the girls to get in first.

You move to the back of the van since it's always been your favorite seat, resting the script on your lap before buckling up.

“May I seat here?” Dacre gets your attention, and you look away from the window, meeting his eyes.

“Sure.” You don't want him to feel like he has to be around you just because he was the first person you met from the show. But you won't just push him away like that. “Did you sleep well?”

“I managed.” He answers. “You?”

“I did.” Once again, you fall into silence. There isn't much you can talk about other than work. “Excited about today? Amy and Billy will have another confrontation.”

“Poor Billy. Amy's going to steal his heart.” He puts a hand over his chest and you giggle.

“He kinda deserves it. After breaking so many hearts.” Shrugging your shoulders, your mind goes through the scenes of the day. You'll have another one with Dacre alone. “I–”

“Hey. Why are you guys seated all the way in the back?” Joe asks, turning his head to look at you and Dacre. “Come–”

“They're talking. Let them be.” Natalia pulls Joe back into his seat, giving you a stare and a smile.

Blushing a little, you exchange a glance with Dacre before looking down at your hands. “You can go be with them if you want.” You decide to let him know.

“I'm alright here,” Dacre affirms. “Is there anything you want to talk about our scene today? Any ideas for something we could do better?”

“The director wants tension, so we have to focus on that.” Opening the script, you easily find today's pages, since they were marked. “Like here. You could keep stepping closer and I'd keep pushing you away. They're both nervous since they're talking about the Mind Flayer, but it would break that tension with a different kind of tension.”

“I like that. It can work.” Dacre leans over a little to read, standing closer. “Amy could give Billy a push, what would make him a little mad, but not the usual kind of mad. James wants me to convince the audience Billy will have strong, true feelings towards Amy, so I think it will help. He won't be as aggressive with her as he is with everyone else.”

You only get half of what he says, suddenly distracted by his voice. “Yeah, I like that.” You watch as his fingers trace the paper, following the dialogue lines. “You have a nice accent by the way.”

“I'm Australian.”

“I noticed.” When you turn your head to look at him, and he does the same, you take in how close he is, quickly looking back down. He has nice eyes too. “I think it'll be fun.”

“I hope I won't make you uncomfortable. Basically, all of our scenes together involve some kind of proximity.”

“You won't.” Uncomfortable is not the word to describe it. Dacre does make you a little nervous, but any girl would be nervous acting with someone who looks like him. You realize he probably misunderstood your gesture from before, looking away from him so abruptly. “I don't feel uncomfortable. And I agree with you. We should get to know each other, I think it would help.”

“It would.” The van bounces suddenly, what gets a tiny exclamation from Joe. “So. What's your favorite color?”

The silly question makes you giggle, putting a lock of hair behind your ear. “Pink. Definitely. But I also love blue and lilac.” Taking a deep breath, you decide to look at him, just to make sure you'll kick away whatever he was thinking when you averted your eyes from him. “Yours?”

“Red.”

“Only one?”

“Yes. I'm a normal person, unlike you.” Despite the sassy comment, Dacre is smiling, sustaining your stare.

“So you're normal? That's a shame. I don't befriend normal people.” Closing the script, you take a look through the window, admiring how the sunlight gives everything a golden shine.

“It was good while it lasted then.” He says, and you bite your lip involuntary. “Who's your favorite character in the show?”

“Amy.” You're quick to answer, turning to look at him again. When the car takes a turn, the morning sun casts its light right on Dacre's face, illuminating it. His blue eyes get your attention, and you notice they remind you of LA's beach, near your house. Shaking your head lightly, you snap back into reality. “It's my character. I own her that much.”

“That's favoritism. You can't pick her.”

“Who would you pick then, Mr. Montgomery?” He giggles at the name.

“I like Maxine.” He answers. “She's badass and I admire her for enduring such an awful step-brother.”

“I like Dustin. His voice is funny.”

“Here I was thinking you had a deeper reason for liking Dustin.” Dacre fakes a disappointed tone, but a small chuckle escapes his lips.

“You're a deep person then.” You conclude, giving him a quick glance.

“You can say so. Aren't you?”

Guys don't usually like thoughtful girls, you know that. At least not the ones you went out with. People, in general, don't like that, so you learned to keep things for yourself. “We can say I think a lot. But I don't usually put it into words.”

“Why not?”

You get the feeling Dacre knows he hit something inside you. Something he doesn't understand, but he knows it's there, that it's delicate. You can tell that by the change in his voice, all the joking tones left behind, replaced by a much serious expression. Guess you can tell him, it's not a big deal. “My father once told me I feel too much. That, just like my mother, I suffocate people with all my... Feelings.” Breathing out, you can't help but remember the fight you had that day, many years ago. “It was ugly. Everyone was yelling, I was a teenager and just had my heart broken by this stupid guy so... It just kicked in. I pretty much closer some doors that day.”

“I'm sorry you had to go through that.”

“Don't be. It's not a big deal.” Isn't it? You're not sure, but you tell yourself it isn't. Going back there won't help, won't solve any problems, won't change anything.

“Of course it is. It clearly affected you.”

“How do you know it affected me?”

“Your voice changed, so did your posture.”

Gasping, you look at Dacre. People don't notice these things. They just say they're sorry and change the subject. “You're very... Perceptive.”

“Well, I don't think feelings are a problem. If he felt suffocated that was all on him. Not you or your mother.” Taken aback by his words, you can't help but smile at how kind he is. “Anytime you need to talk about anything, I'm willing to listen.”

“Thanks, you're–” The driver hits the breaks, and when you look through the window, you realize you're at the set. “We're here.”

“May the fun begin.”

An hour later, you're in a dark pink swimsuit, shooting a scene with Natalia for the third time. This is about Heather, already taken by the Mind Flayer, making her first appearance at the pool. The director, who now you know is named James, makes several changes for every take, but you and Natalia just have to repeat the lines.

“So. You were talking to Dacre.” She says in between takes, as you wait to see if there will be another one or if you can go on to the next scene. Natalia gives you a look that makes you blush. You didn't know she was paying attention to you and Dacre in the back of the van. “You two getting along?”

“Yeah. He is–”

“Alright, everyone. Heather's coming down and Billy is entering the pool. It's a quick one, so let's get it done in one take if possible.” James announces, and you lay back down in the chair, happy that this conversation was cut short. “Everybody ready? Action!”

Everything sets in motion, and Hawkins Community Pool comes to life once again. You engage in small talk with Natalia as Heather climbs down her chair, walking by.

“Is she alright?” Nancy asks Amy, eyes following Heather.

“She must be sick.” You tell her before the cameras leave you, all turning to the locker, from where Dacre is already coming from.

You know your part. Exchange a glance when he's close by and look away, annoyed.

But that's not what happens. When he comes close, you do give him the look, the cameras now focusing on you, but the whole thing vanishes. Your mind is blank as you just keep staring, a weird sensation building up when you realize you're watching Billy Hargrove right before your eyes. But when he walks by, you see he breaks character for a moment, as if wondering what you're doing. Of course he thinks you're improvising. So Billy's face comes up again, eyes lingering on you until he passes by, and you break out of your state, looking away.

“What was that?” Nancy asks, and you wonder if that's Nancy or just Natalia, because the line isn't on the script.

“Nothing.” Your answer.

“Cut!” James yells and you relax, taking a deep breath. “(Y/N), I liked what you did. Good job! Five minutes everyone.”

“What was that?” Natalia asks again, in a different tone this time, making it clear it's her who's asking. “Did you improvise?”

“Sure.” Getting up from the chair, you follow her to the resting area they set up for you. “Just thought it would give him the tension he wants too much.” Lying is not your thing, but what can you say? That your mind went blank? That you forgot the whole script for a moment and Dacre's reaction was what saved you so you wouldn't be looking like a total idiot?

“You did well then.” She takes a water bottle, taking a sip. She doesn't seem so convinced though. “Oh, we'll start gathering to go over the Starcourt scenes. They'll be heavy and everyone agreed on start working on them so it won't be so messy on set.”

“It's a great idea. When will it happen?” The Battle of Starcourt is the most complicated and longest scenes of the season, and you're glad they want to go over it.

“We have a group chat. I can add you so you'll know when we'll meet.”

“I can add her,” Dacre says and you turn on your heels, giving a step closer to Natalia. “I have her number.”

“Great.” She exclaims, drumming her fingers on the table. “I'll go find Charlie and Joe. We got a scene together later today.”

“Ok.” You mumble, waving at her as she leaves. “Nice tan.” The words come out of your mouth the moment your eyes involuntary fall from his face to his chest. “Now I know why Billy turns every head when he walks by.” Thinking fast, you manage to bring some sense into whatever you were talking about.

“You also look amazing in this–”

“Dacre, (Y/N). C'mon.” The director calls and Dacre rolls his eyes, making you giggle.

“Guess this is our cue.” He says, gesturing for you to walk before him. “Are you nervous? We're going to be face to face again.”

“No.” It comes out too fast, and you're sure he can tell you feel the exact opposite. You weren't thinking about it, but now you are. “I'm alright.” You're walking beside him, near the pool to where James is gathered with some people, getting things ready for the scene. “I think Amy–” The words get caught in your throat when your bare feet slips on a puddle, but instead of colliding to the ground, you're pulled up quickly, heart beating fast from the sudden motion.

“Are you alright?” Dacre asks, his hand still resting on the small of your back, and the other holding your arm, making sure you have your balance again.

“Yes.” Now you definitely look like an idiot. “Sorry.” When you raise your head to meet his eyes, you clear your throat and step back.

“Don't worry, I got you.”

“(Y/N), are you ok?” The director asks and you nod, walking fast over him. “Good. Let's get this going.”

This scene is the confrontation about what happened in the road. And you're supposed to be 100% focused, the lines at the tip of your tongue, but as you breathe in deeply to get into character, you can't help but feel restless. Maybe if you do manage to befriend Dacre it'll get easier. Hopefully.

“Ready, everyone.” The command comes and you prepare yourself, quickly replaying the lines in your head. “Action!”

In Amy's skin, you start walking back to your chair, carelessly running a hand through your hair when your arm is grabbed suddenly, and you stop, turning around to face the source of the attack. Anger takes over your expression the moment your eyes, or better saying, Amy's eyes, find Billy. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

“We need to talk.” That said, he pulls you with him, away from the people.

“We have nothing to talk about.” Amy keeps fighting but still trying not to let anyone notice. Billy drags her behind the supply closet, away from curious eyes and ears. “Let go of me!” With a push, you set free from his grip.

“Well, did you tell anyone?”

“Tell what? That we saw a huge alien monster made of darkness?” You whisper-yell, looking into his eyes and giving a step back, just to figure out there's a wall trapping you. “Of course I didn't.”

Dacre steps closer, his chest pressing you further into the wall. “Then you saw it too. Right?”

It takes a while until you remember the line, and what you're supposed to do since the proximity clouded your mind. With both hands on his chest, you push Dacre away. “Yes, I did. It was after me.” You mutter as Dacre plays his part, surrendering into your push before coming closer again.

You take a deep breath, struggling to remain in character, annoyed and anxious, who can't wait for Billy to go away. “I...” He stutters. “I forgot it. Sorry, I got distracted.”

“Alright, let's roll it again from 'Did you tell anyone'. I want constant eye contact this time. Action!”

You get exactly two seconds to take in the command and set it into motion, but you do as you're told, raising your head slightly so you're staring at Dacre.

“Well, did you tell anyone?”

“Tell what? That we saw a huge alien monster made of darkness?” You've seen blue eyes before, but not that blue. It startles you a little when Dacre steps closer, and in an attempt to put some distance in between you two, you move back, hitting the wall. “Of course I didn't.” You manage to push out.

“Then you saw it too... Right?” Dacre changes his tone, and you get the idea. Billy is confused, not really convinced that what he saw was real.

“Yes. It was after me first in case you don't remember.” Keeping the annoyed tone in your voice, you have Amy push Billy away, now, slightly aware of your hand on Dacre's bare chest. Keep it professional, you tell yourself. This is a job. “And stay away from me.”

“That thing...” He steps closer again, ignoring Amy's requirement. “...What was it?”

“I really need you to stay away.” Another push, but this time Dacre grabs your arm, leaning even closer, putting a hand on the wall beside your head. You roll your eyes, breaking eye contact just for the sake of your character before she slips away again. Regaining your senses, you look up into his eyes.

“Sorry, if I'm making you nervous, princess, but I can't have anyone else listening to this crazy talk.” He gives you his wicked smile, the one that makes the girls melt.

That's it. That's the moment when Amy stands up to him, and you have to nail it because honestly, you don't think you can do this again. So you stand up straight, ending the tiny distance that was left between you and Dacre, between Amy and Billy, chests colliding and eyes burning with anger and indignation. “You think you can flash a smile and have all the girls of Hawkings at your feet but I won't fall for it.” You hiss, standing on your toes just a little bit, trying to match his height, but, of course, it doesn't happen. Dacre still towers over you. “So drop the bad boy act, jerk, and if you want to focus on the real problem here, the freaking thing coming from the sky hunting us, you're free to talk to me.” Then you leave, storming away, leaving the shooting area before turning around to get a glimpse of Dacre's acting. Billy keeps staring at the place where Amy went, which makes Dacre look straight at you. You see Billy's surprise face, filled with perplexion, not able to believe what just happened. Then, it softens, as he slowly goes back into Dacre.

“And cut! Jesus, it was amazing.” James exclaims, standing from his chair. “I don't think we should do another take, despite thinking a kiss would fit well in the scene.”

Your eyes go wide as you stare at James, who looks pleased with his work. You thought you'd have more time before kissing Dacre. To get to know him, so it won't be a mess like it was right now. You don't even know how it was possible for it to be so good as James says. You were all over the place.

“But no, it will be better on screen to build up the tension until it explodes. You did very well, you two.” James friendly touches your shoulder. “I can see you're still a little nervous, but it's normal since you basically just met Dacre.” He gestures at him, who comes to join you, and James puts an arm around his shoulder. “Perhaps you should get together and work on the kissing scene. See how you feel, how you could make it even better because every time you improvise, it gives me goosebumps and I like it. You two have chemistry.” His voice gets a little higher on the last word, and he let's go of you two. “So this is a little homework. Go over that scene and let me know if you think anything should be different.”

When James leaves, you're blushing, his words echoing in your brain. Homework? Does he really want you to do that? “Like a read-through?” You ask.

“You already did a read-through. Do the real thing. Or even better.” He turns around, walking backwards. “Get it on camera and send me so I can check how you two are doing. Amy and Billy are this season's power couple, I want it to be amazing. You're both doing great and that's why I want to take this to a whole new level.” And he sets in motion again, gesturing for someone to give him something. “Now get ready, I want to shot Heather's scene again.”

×

@baker151910 @shinydixon @dreamin-of-dacre @hanoi15 @lickmymelanin @skykittysstuff @foccus @multific @uncookspaget @kellysimagines

[ak47stylegirl]

I have wings, so why do I feel so stuck to the ground like never before? (Fic snippet #2)

Okay, @the-lady-razorsharp wanted more of this Thunderbirds/DC superhero au so here it is! :D Another snippet! 

Also big thanks to @gumnut-logic for sharing the 400 words a day thing *hugs* I’m really liking it so far, the sheer freedom of knowing that I don’t need to write anymore then 400 words is freeing. I’m really hoping this will help me get out of this mental writers block I’m in *Laughs nervously because don’t want to jinx it lol*

I don’t really know if this is any good but I hope you guys enjoy! XD

---

It was busy in the downtown diner, the Tv playing the news in the corner and general chatter from people eating their dinner made it a very loud place. And it so happened that it was his shift, so yes he was very much getting a headache from the sheer noise, he thought grimacing slightly as he wiped a table down. 

But it couldn’t be helped, he needed the money this job gave him to live, so he just had to deal with it; it was fine. His wings were hidden under a glamour charm, making it seem like they wasn’t there at all. 

But they very much were, he thought tensing up slightly as he barely missed hitting a customer with his invisible wings. It would be so much easier if he could always keep them flat against his back but he used them for balance, so they moved without him even realising it sometimes. 

Which was really dangerous for him, he thought with a sigh, carrying a tray full of dirty cups and plates to the kitchen. He was just coming out of the kitchen when he heard it-

‘Tracy’

And all his senses went on hyperdrive, preparing to get him out of there at a moments notice without anyone being the wiser. His eyes scanned the room but he didn’t see any of his brothers, which caused the alarms in his head to quiet down a bit. 

It had just been the TV, he thought with a slight sigh of relief as he made his way behind the counter/bar. He hated how scared he was at the mare idea of being spotted by one of his brothers or someone that knew him from before. He hated that one of his first reactions was to run as far away as he could, he hated it! 

Even in the mask, and when international rescue and himself are in the same place; trying to do the same thing, save lives, he still feels uneasy being around them. He tries not to talk much or look at them for long in case they recognise him and well, if he looks or spends too much time with them; he knows he would not be able to stop himself from revealing all. 

He shook his head, burying those thoughts deep with in his mind. He did not need to go down that rabbet hole, get a hold of yourself Phoenix, he thought as he started to clean a couple of the cocktail glasses at the small sink behind the bar.    

But why exactly were the news talking about his fam-

He stilled, his face going pale as he read the headline. ‘Anniversary of youngest Tracy’s disappearance’ 

Oh...Oh, he swallowed, turning his face down to look at the bubbly water of the sink. It was that day...

‘Ten years ago to this day, Alan Tracy, son of billionaire astronaut Jeff Tracy, disappeared from his school, Wharton Academy, where he shared a dorm with his best friend, Fermat Hackenbacker, late one night. No one knows what exactly happened to the youngest Tracy-’

Except him, he thought with a frown, tuning out the rest of the news report as he tried to keep the memories at bay. He didn’t need to hear anymore. 

“You know, it’s weird...” His work colleague, Frank muttered, starring up at the TV with a perplexed look. The news was still talking about his disappearance...

“What is?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, welcoming the distraction from his thoughts and memories. 

Frank frowned at him, “The fact that you look almost exactly like that Tracy kid-” 

He felt his eyes widen slightly as glanced at the TV where a photo of his past self was still front and centre; he was smiling, eyes bright with a innocent he no longer possessed. There were some differences between him and, well his past self. 

For one their hair was slightly different, his hair was more platinum blond, not the dirty brown blond it used to be. The merging of his DNA with an alien’s DNA hadn’t just given him wings, his whole physiology was different. Hence his hair being lighter. 

While on the topic, his hair was also more styled, up and out of his eyes then his part self, who had it more messily ruffled. He was sure there was four older brothers that could lay claim to creating that hair style. 

But other then the slight hair different, and his face being slightly more defined and less baby fat, their faces looked near identical. Though he knew he was a lot thinner and more toned with subtle muscles than his past self, his body used to fighting and bending in ways that really shouldn’t be possible. 

(He wasn’t going to think about the scars, he wasn’t going to think about the scars, he wasn’t going to think about the scars!)

“-you even have the same name..” Frank ended, looking at him suspiciously. He quickly switched gears, and prepared to get himself out of this situation. Good thing he was a good liar, he knew how to act to get people off his tail. 

He faked a laugh, grinning at his colleague. “I do? That so Cool!” He grinned with excitement, making his eyes wide and innocent as he continued to work. “I always wanted a celebrity twin!”

“uh...” Frank blinked, visibly confused by his reaction, which was what he wanted. “But, ur isn’t it, I don’t know? Weird that you look exactly the same and share the same name?”

Frank was still giving him that suspicious look but he looked more unsure now. 

“What?” He raised a eyebrow, letting a bit of disbelief and confusion show on his face “You don’t think I’m actually Alan Tracy, do you?” He asked with a laugh, letting frank think that he was laughing at the sheer silliness of such a thing. 

“Do I look 25 to you?” He laughed, laying his hand against his chest, making a show of raising his eyebrows in disbelief, letting a bit of mild offence colour his voice. “because um, ouch, that hurts..” 

He knew he looked young, because physically and to a extent mentally, he was still a teenager of sixteen years. Partly because of his alien DNA and because the league of assassins figured that freezing their weapon in suspended animation while not in use was good idea.   

Frank laughed nervously, trying to save himself from embarrassment. “Ha ha, yeah, what was I thinking? You look more like you should be in diapers then anywhere near legal age, kid..” 

He gasped dramatically, scrunching his nose up, “well, that’s almost worse!” he pouted as he finished cleaning the glasses. 

“ha, yeah...” Frank laughed slightly, a slight flush on his cheeks as he walked away to serve a customer. He felt his wings, which had been tensely held tight against his back, relax. 

That had been...unpleasant, normally he didn’t have to deal with stuff like that as people automatically dismissed him on the accent of him being too young, but Frank always been one to jump to conclusions without thinking if it was possible or not, so he really wasn’t surprised. 

He hanged his apron up and clocked out, heading out of the busy diner and into the chilly night air; the ‘Tracy Industries’ sign on his family’s building glowing in the distance.

A part of him just wanted to be put out of his misery, he wanted to face them and just get their rejection over with because they didn’t want him, they want a version of him that didn’t exist anymore and he couldn’t give that to them. 

But a bigger part of him was just too scared, too terrified to face them, to face the truth. Even though he knew it was killing him, would kill him one day, he could not bring himself to face them. 

Some brave Tracy he sure was, he thought with a scowl, lowing his face, unable to face the light of his family’s sign. 

[mayibeyoursbanks]

Can you do a fic with JJ and y/n to the song Summer Love by One Direction because y/n went to the Obx just for the summer but they find a way for the group to be together at the end of the summer while y/n goes back to her house? Lol it’s a lot sorry.

I’m so sorry this literally took forever for me to get to- I accidentally deleted everything halfway through writing it😔

But it’s here now! It kinda took its own path but I hope you like it!!!

“Summer Love”

———————————————————————

Memories of the past two months flooded through your mind as you stuffed your suitcase with all of your belongings. It felt as though every T-shirt, swim suit, piece of jewelry, had a different memory attached to it.

You reached for the woven bracelet on your dresser, thinking of the day you first got it.

“Close your eyes babes. We have a present for you,” said Kie. You shook your head, but complied anyway.

“A present? You guys didn’t have to give me anything. You just met me what? Three weeks ago?”

“Don’t be silly. It’s your birthday, of course we got you something. Besides, it’s not even that huge of a deal,” you hear Sarah say from your other side.

You feel something lightweight fall into your outstretched hand and feel the rough, woven texture between your fingers. You smile as you open your eyes to look down at the handmade bracelet. It was made of three colors- yellow, pink, and orange -all intricately interwoven to make a perfectly wrist sized band.

“A friendship bracelet? Just like bit of yours?”

“Well, not just like ours. We made new ones to match.” Sarah held up her wrist to flash a bracelet identical to the one in your hand, and Kie did the same.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.” Your eyes watered with tears.

“You may not be in the Outer Banks forever, but you will always be apart of our lives, Y/N. I hope you know that”

You smiled to yourself as you tugged the bracelet onto your wrist and reached for the baseball hat that was placed next to it.

It was a scorching hot day, and the sun beat down on you and Pope as you rode Heyward’s boat back across the island. You had volunteered to help him make deliveries to the Figure 8, but under this sun, you were regretting the decision to pass on surfing with the girls.

“Thanks for helping me out again Y/N/N. These deliveries would have taken me all day to do alone.”

“Anytime Heyward. But maybe the next time you need a hand, you could tell me to bring a hat? Or even some sunglasses?” You said this jokingly, but Pope must have noticed your red, sun-kissed face and how you squinted up at him to talk, because then he moved to remove his iconic “Pong” hat and put it on your head, tugging it into place. You smiled gratefully at him, and went back to counting the tips from the day.

When Pope pulled the boat up to the dock, you went to return his hat to him, but he held his hand out.

“Keep it. It looks ten times better on you anyway.” You did a fake gasp and placed your hand in your chest.

“Is this your final gift to me Pope? A memento to remember you by when I finally return to the horrors of the mainland?” Pope just chuckled.

“Well I can’t let you go forgetting me now. Gotta compete with the others. Well except for JJ, he obviously has a spot secured in your heart.” You felt your cheeks blush furiously.

“What is that supposed to mean Heyward?”

“Come on Y/N/N. You guys have acted like an old married couple since we first met you at The Wreck. Even John B can see it.” You looked down at the groceries swinging in your hand as you walked up the dock next to Pope.

“Is it that obvious?”

“As obvious as the capital of Russia.”

You smirked to yourself at the reoccurring memory of yours and Pope’s favorite inside joke, and gently set the hat on the top of the bag.

Then you saw the worn book that was laying under then hat on your dresser, and picked it up to flip through the pages.

You were wondering around the Chateau while you waited for John B to find the keys to the Twinkie. The two of you were supposed to pick up the rest of the Pogues for a drive around the island, but the absent-minded boy had somehow misplaced the most important part of that plan.

As you walked down the hallway, you stopped at a door you recognized as Big John’s office. You had never gone in here because while John B was very open to talking about his dad with you, you had only known him for a month and a half. Going in felt like an overstep before.

You slowly creaked the door open though, and we’re greeted by stacks of books and piles of maps. There was a model ship in one corner, and glove across from it, with a desk covered in even more maps and books in the center of the room.

You walked to the desk and scanned the stacks of books, eyes landing on a light blue book that looked well read. As you picked it up, you ran your fingers over the embossed lettering.

“Searching for the Merchant,” you whispered to yourself. You opened the book with a crap and started fingering through the pages.

“That was his favorite book in this whole office.” You jumper at the familiar sound of your friends voice and slammed the book closed. You were about to apologize to John B but the boy stopped you.

“It’s ok. I come in here all the time.”

“Do you feel closer to him? When you’re in here?”

“In some ways. In others I feel farther than ever.” You watched John B as he stared down the model ship in the corner.

“I never met him, but just from being in here I can tell he was a good man.” A small smile appeared on John B’s face.

“And a good dad.”

“That he was, Y/N/N. That he was.” The two of you stood in silence for a little longer before the boy spoke up again.

“Why don’t you keep that book? You might enjoy it.” You rapidly shook your head.

“John B, I could never. All this stuff is yours to enjoy.”

“Look around Y/N. I obviously have plenty of things to go through when I miss him. Besides, I already had my great adventure. Maybe that book will inspire you to find yours.” You smiled big at your friend, the Pogues’ treasure hunt was the first story they had told you when you hung out at the Chateau for the first time, and you had always craved to have your own similar escapade, minus the life-threatening pirates.

You gently closed the book and tucked it into the side of your suitcase, thinking about the adventure you had this summer with your new best friends. Zipping your the suit case, you tugged it off your bare bed and began to pull it towards your bedroom door. You stopped suddenly at the sight of a long necklace hanging from a nail next to the door. Your treasured shark tooth necklace.

You barely noticed the dock shift under the weight of someone sitting next you, and you didn’t even bother to look up. You know exactly who it was.

“Are you really leaving at the end of the week?”

“I have to JJ. My parents want to go back to the mainland early, and even though I’m 18, I’m definitely not financially independent enough to stay here.”

“Screw money. We’ll find a way. You can stay with Kie. Or Sarah. Or Pope. Or heck, even John B.” You shook your head, trying not to cry.

“This is why I was afraid to tell you guys. I knew there was no getting out of me going home, and now it’s all you guys will focus on.”

“Can you blame us? You became one of our best friends, my best friend, in less than 24 hours. How do you expect us to let you go without a fight.”

“There’s nothing you can do this time JJ, not even the people that uncovered the Royal Merchant.”

“But wha-“ You placed your hand on his knee to signal him to stop talking.

“JJ, can we please not talk about this right now. I may not have as long as I thought, but I want to spend the time I do have making memories. Not wallowing I’m self-pity.” JJ grabbed your hand in his and brought it to his mouth to gently kiss it. He held it to his mouth for a while, and you looked over to him for the first time during this entire conversation. You shifted to face him, and with your free hand you reached for the shark tooth dangling around his neck.

“Now where in the world does a boy like you get a piece like this?” You said, mimicking the very first question you ever asked the boy. JJ chuckled and met your eyes.

“On a great adventure. One with pirates, and gold, and a giant storm. Almost didn’t make it out, but I found this tooth lingering in my battle wounds after I washed up on the sand,” JJ replied in his rip-off Pirates if the Caribbean accent.

“Oh? And what has this tough-as-bones pirate prince been doing since then? Plenty of damsels in distress I assume?” JJ smirked.

“Hundreds. But only one of them has really caught my heart.”

“And what of her? What adventures has she gone on?”

“None yet. But I’m hoping to change that.”

“Ah, a lucky lady she is.”

“Yes, you are.” Your smile faltered. You and JJ had grown very close this past summer, and had even shared an almost-kiss at one time. But you both knew it was pointless trying to explore that, what with you leaving in less than a month.

“JJ?” The boy in front of you smiled and grabbed both of your hands, placing them in his lap so he could hold your face with his.

“You were mine this summer Y/N. And I was yours. Don’t take that away from me, not quite yet.” You nodded, tears threatening to trickle down your cheeks.

“We can’t last long JJ. We’ve both known that for a while.” JJ just shook his head and stared into your eyes even more intensely.

“Y/N. Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” you whispered. And it didn’t take another second for JJ to press his lips to yours, and like two perfect harmonies you both moved to close any remaining space in between your bodies, all while you tugged at each other’s lips, hungry to make up for all the chances to do this you took for granted the past two months.

When you two finally broke apart, you rested your forehead against his and smiled when he slid his necklace over his head and onto your neck. You reached up to the tooth and held it in between your fingers, and closed your eyes.

You quickly wiped the tears from your eyes and grabbed the necklace, only to stuff it in your back pocket. Wearing it would only remind you about your summer love, but you couldn’t bare to part with it.

Stepping out of your house, you met your dad who grabbed you suitcase from you to put it in the car. He gave you a sympathetic smile while your mom grabbed your shoulder and squeezed past you in the doorway.

Then you heard the familiar growl of a motorbike, and looked down the road to find none other than JJ and Sarah quickly approaching your house. You walked towards them, but you didn’t make it far before Sarah all but tackled you in a bear hug.

“I almost thought you guys were going to let me leave without saying goodbye.”

“We’re not. Letting you leave, that is.”

“Sarah, I don’t have a choice. I can’t afford to live on my own, and my parents have to go back. There’s no way.”

“What if I told you there was.” The look on Sarah’s face was full of determination.

“What do you mean?” Instead of explaining her antics to you, she grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward your parents.

“Mr. Y/L/N. Mrs. Y/L/N. Your daughter can not leave the Outer Banks. She’s official Pogue property now.” You just shook your head at your best friend, but let her talk.

“But I understand you two need to go back to those forsaken mainlands, so I have a proposition. As you know, my embarrassment of a brother has just gone off to Ohio for...well, I guess you can call it school. He won’t be returning for at least 4 years, and Wheezie and I can’t bare the empty room for that long. However, we’re willing to let Y/N here move in with us, free of charge. And as for the financial independence, the Carreras have a new opening at the Wreck, and I think it would be a good way for Y/N to make some money of her own. I think 4 years is sufficient time to get on her own feet, don’t you think?”

You looked at Sarah in absolute wonder, and when your parents turned their eyes to you, you met them with a determined glare.

“Mom. Dad. You know how much I love it here. You guys said it yourselves every day, I belong here. And I’ve made the best friends I could ever ask for, and I’m more happy than I ever was on the mainland. I’m 18, and this is an opportunity to prove to you that I’m ready to make my own life.”

You’re parents looked at each other, having not said a word this whole time. Your mom was the first to break.

“Well, it is only a 2 hour ferry ride. And I trust the Cameron’s. And your friends.” Your dad smiled at you and chuckled to himself.

“That’s my girl. Of course you can stay.” You gaped at your parents.

“Wait, really?!?! That worked?”

“It may not be the most stable option, but you’re right, you belong here. And being able to stand up and tell us that proves to us that you’re an adult now.”

You’re mom nodded her head in a direction behind you before she spoke, “Besides, it looks like you may be in a good hands here.” You spun around to find JJ, shyly holding his helmet and looking up at you with a small smile. You broke from Sarah’s grip and ran to him, jumping in his arms and pulling your legs around his waist.

JJ held you tightly and spun you around, laughing with you. When he came to a stop, you pulled away to look at him.

“So, what’s our first adventure, my pirate prince?”

“Well, I was thinking...nothing that involves hidden treasure or getting shot at?”

“And what do you propose instead?”

“How about something with sharks?” You heard your dad cough from behind you, and looked to see his eyebrows raised questioningly.

“With secure cages of course.” JJ added nervously.

“Sounds perfect. When do we start?”

“Right now.”

———————————————————————

Tags: @tangledinsparkles @the-crackhead-next-door @pankows-girl @howdyherron @poguemacking @dpaccione

[missinghan]

night changes (2) ⤖ bang chan

❖ genre : rich kid!au

❖ word count : 21k.

❖ warning : explicit language & mentions of alcohol

❖ summary : fate decides to backfire when you try to pull the son of the Senator in as a barrier between your life and Bang Chan.

❖ a/n : read pt.1 beforehand to understand the story better, I’m too tired to proofread this after the nth time, please don’t @ me.

one. The only reason why your mom persuaded Jeongin to move after when you moved in with your dad was college being practically thirty minutes away from the place. And also because of the rent. You feel bad for your brother mainly since the walls there are awfully thin and the girl next door always seems to have someone over every other night. They aren’t exactly trying to be subtle either. Sometimes you wonder how the fuck can he study for finals when the noise pollution can’t get any worse but he still manages to hit straight A-s.

On the other hand, you and Felix never have to worry about things such as students’ loans or college tuition. Every single penny was paid, as well as every other necessity in life. But you feel like nothing but a filler or a mannequin whenever you dad demands for intimate parties where you’re forced to sit still and look pretty when he’s too busy talking business with the other families. You’re just simply there, in his circle of status. Even when you’re all dressed up in designers’ clothes and whatnots, you still feel so out of place, sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Someone didn’t get enough sleep last night,” Felix rolls his eyes dramatically when you pull up right in front of a rather ugly tree, scowling hard. “And you’re seriously taking your Rover today? Where did all of your standards go?” He glances sideways and sees a black Mercedes right in front of your car but shrugs it off shortly after.

“Hey! You take that back! She’s my baby! And also, it’s not gonna freak Jeongin out as much as your Tesla would,” you chuckle and punch his arm, earning a wholehearted laugh in return. Despite being born in a well off family, your stepbrother isn’t as much of an asshole as you’re expecting him to be. He’s pretty down to earth and acts like every other college kid that you’ve met with a questionable obsession with Fortnite. Except he loves to shove all the logos of luxurious brands into people’s faces who keep pissing him off, making him that much more intimidating.

“Wait here or stay there, pick your poison,” you tell him before grabbing your key and exit the car.

Felix mumbles something along the lines of ‘don’t be so rude’ and trails after you. He flutters his eyes upwards to take a closer look at the apartment complex before him. It’s quite small but seems very cozy. He wonders if it does feel less isolating and cold when there isn’t so much extra space around him all the time. “Hurry up, Lix! Jeongin gotta run to class in three hours.” With that, he hastily follows you up a narrow, rusty flight of stairs, the place reeks off the smell his dad always despises. He calls it ‘the subway smell’.

When your hand is hovering over the wooden door, it suddenly swings open, revealing an impossibly handsome guy. Chestnut brown hair, midnight orbs, tall nose, and peachy lips. He has you completely frozen for a good five seconds before you snap out of it, raising an eyebrow. Since when did Jeongin have hot guys as his roommates? And since when did your mom even allow him to have roommates? “Uhm sorry, you are..?”

The stranger smiles, perfectly showcasing his white. That’s your weak spot too. You’re a complete sucker for guys with cute smiles. “I’m Jaemin, and uh, my friend asked me to come over and help him with an upcoming exam.” You subconsciously stare at his outfits for a while, seeing no signs of any designers’ pieces. But his posture screams mad confidence, straight back, always maintaining eye contact, like he’s been raised in a wealthy family just like Felix. You can’t help but automatically judge people for what they wear, it’s been drilled into your mindset at some point and you hate yourself for that.

“Hello? Are you okay?” He waves his hand when you stay unresponsive. He partially thinks that you’re mentally judging him for acting like a weirdo.

You laugh nervously, completely oblivious of how Felix is facepalming himself behind your back. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m here to look for my brother.”

“Brother who?” Jaemin narrows his eyes at you skeptically.

“Yang Jeongin? Ring any bell?”

“What? Jeongin never told me he had a sis—“ his gasp is cut off midway when a hand flies to his mouth out of nowhere and pulls him backward. Your brother pokes his head out from behind Jaemin and smiles sheepishly. You can’t help but notice how different his smile is. Oh…where are his braces?

Jeongin says flatly, “Hey, sis, long time no see.” Then he scratches the nape of his neck, unsure of what to say. “Uhm, so what are you doing here?” It’s really been a while since you last saw him. Your dad can’t really do anything because your mom had full custody of raising him and he wanted to stay with her either way. He said he wouldn’t feel like he belongs if he dares to take a single footstep into his billion dollars mansion. Sometimes it feels like you’re just two strangers with the same blood coursing through your veins, family in name, but not in fact. But to be fair, you don’t even have the same last name as him.

“Where’s mom?” You avoid his question before stepping into the studio apartment completely. The last time you were here was when you’re still a freshman in college, you believe. And now all you can do is stand there in awe.

There was nothing but cardboard boxes scattered everywhere, dirty dishes piling up day by day, chipping wallpapers and a crusty old couch that the previous owner left behind as a result of your heartbroken mom. It used to make you grimace but holy shit, mom really did pull herself together. The place is freshly renovated, the smell of new paint is still evident, a teal couch, wooden cabinets, clean kitchen, bathroom on the left along with a brand new TV. Although it’s not the newest model of any sort, you can see how far your mom has come. She worked hard for your brother, and it’s definitely paying off.

Jeongin whispers something into Jaemin’s ears and pushes him out the front door, leaving a very shocked-looking Felix as a witness. “She’s at work,” he states the obvious monotonously.

“Oh,” you chuckle to yourself and let your fingers dance along the kitchen aisle. “Silly me. Anyway, when did you have your braces off? Last week?”

“It’s been a lot longer than that, Y/N. The last time you saw me was Woojin’s wedding.” He massages the side of his temple, sighing heavily. And your heart sinks, a pang of guilt always seems to be inevitable whenever you come over to visit him. Even when it’s only once or twice a year, you could never move on with life without knowing how he’s doing. You tried. “What are you doing here?”

You cut to the chase, “Dad wants you to come and join his party at the hotel this weekend. Nothing major, just another event as an excuse for him to make more money. And also he said he wanted to see you.”

“As if he needs any more money,” your brother sneers. “And he wanted to see me? Don’t be ridiculous. The old man probably wants me there to humiliate the shit out of me so that I’ll stay away from him and his precious jewels.” You perk a brow at what he’s referring you and Felix to, “I’m not gonna be there and smile through the whole thing. I don’t even own a tuxedo for fuck’s sake! Those people aren’t just rich, they’re crazy rich. They’re snoshy, and loud, and act all elegant with thousands of dollars draped over their bodies—“

Felix makes a face, “Snoshy?”

“Posh and snobby.”

“Are you coming for my accent?”

“I dare not.”

He laughs and swings an arm around Jeongin’s shoulders. “Good move, kid. Now get in the car, loser, we’re going shopping.”

The younger boy scrunches his nose in disgust, shoving your stepbrother away. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t make me put you in timeout.”

two. Jeongin feels like he’s sitting on a pile of burning coal instead of the espresso-colored velvet couch in the middle of a Tom Ford store. Soft white light slipping through the ceiling, walls embedded with mirrors all around and closets that are probably made with the finest kinds of wood. Even the fake pot of flowers on the glass coffee table in front of him looks more expensive than everything he owns combined. While he’s receiving dirty looks from some of the staff, Felix on the other hand, is too busy skimming through the watches and ties displayed inside the see-through cabinets.

Being humiliated just because he doesn’t dress like ‘your people’ makes him wanna bust through the door and stay at home for three consecutive days. People already disrespected him in a clothing store, what will happen if he attends that stupid intimate party? He’s not gonna fit into the social circle just because he’s wearing some designers’ pieces because that’s not who he is.

“Wrap those up for me,” you voice, face stoic of any emotions.

A staff at the checkout nervously laces her fingers together, a bead of sweat unknowingly rolls down on her temple. “Miss Lee! Having you buy our newest collection is more than we can ever afford, I’ll make sure to contact our superior to let you—“

“To let me fire you?” You cut her off, voice soft and stern at the same time. “Oh please, don’t bother,” the staff almost jumps back when you place one of your hands on hers, your rings cold against her burning skin as shivers run down her spine. “Minho will take good care of you, I guarantee.”

Jeongin groans in pure frustration when you wave at him, smiling in your luxurious glory when he’s sitting inside a high-end store like an absolute idiot. “Tom Ford? What is wrong with you people?” Felix glares at him and he immediately puts his hands up in defense. “Right, sorry. But would you mind and just strangle me right here right now so that I won’t make a grave mistake by putting that on? Can’t I just wear the tux that I had on Woojin’s wedding?” You bringing Felix along had already suffocated him enough when he literally lives and breathes in Gucci. Jeongin is not a fan of the tiger on his bomber jacket either.

“Eh..it’s a little dated, wouldn’t hurt to buy a new one. And did you really think that your sister’s gonna let you pay by yourself? How innocent,” Felix puts an arm over his shoulders when he refers to the brand new suit jacket, dress shirt and slacks on the marble counter. All that for more than ten thousand dollars, so… he’s gonna need more than ten years to pay you back. “Also, did you know that your sister is scary when someone pisses her off?” He whispers under his breath, slightly scared that you’re gonna catch his words.

“You’re wasting my time,” you hand your credit card over to the other staff, in which he receives with shaking hands. “Get yourself clean up and pack your bags, I’m sure a professional like you would have no problem landing another job like this.”

Jeongin almost gawks at how you’re giving ten thousand dollars away like you’re simply buying a burger at McDonald’s. He even feels bad for the staff who’s on the verge of breaking down, tears brimming in the corners of her eyes. She did treat him like he was trying to rob the place but having her fired is far too harsh. Now he knows why he should never be on your bad side. “I think I do now.” He swallows thickly with two hands on his knees, the muscles on his back tense.

“Ma’am, I’m so sorry for the inconvenience, we—“

You smile coldly, “That’s enough, I believe you all can reconsider your own behaviors towards customers. All of your customers.”

“Yep,” Felix catches the jet black Tom Ford bag when you walk past the couch, seemingly busy talking on the phone with Minho. “Iced cold motherfucker.”

Then, an unfamiliar figure enters the store the moment you walk out the door. Felix and Jeongin also pass by her without a second look even when they both accidentally catch some parts of her conversation with the staff. Fuzzily. So he doesn’t bother to think too much about it. “Good afternoon, ma’am, how can we help you?”

“I’m here to pick up a tuxedo for my boyfriend,” the girl takes off her sunglasses and grins, a smile that can take the breath right out of anyone.

The staff returns her smile and taps away on the iPad while the others are escorting the crying woman into the bathroom. “May we have the name please?”

Felix tosses the bag into the car trunk as soon as you start the engine, hurrying to the backseats after. Jeongin has his arms crossed in front of his chest in the passenger’s seat, no words can describe how frustrated, and mad, and partially relieved he feels right now all at once. All will be revealed in the next episode of how his sister fucks up every relationship he’s ever made, stay tuned folks!

“I was having a migraine just by seeing you handing out one of your five other credit cards. And firing her too? Aren’t you being too harsh? Couldn’t you spare her any sense of kindness at least?”

You laugh monotonously, “There are way worse things that could have happened to her. Trust me, you don’t wanna know what ‘my people’ can do.” This isn’t the first time you’ve seen some self excessively conceited staff who judges people by their social background. And now they had the audacity to insult your brother? Being fired is the only sense of kindness that you can give them for today.

“Great, now I’m gonna have to pay the old man back.”

You carefully take a turn and almost snort at your brother’s pointless concern. “That was my money, in my own defense. I don’t live off dad’s pennies anymore.” Even if it was your dad’s money, he would never make his biological son pay for what he can’t even afford. That’s like…asking a vegetarian why they want to bring down the mood of a BBQ party.

Jeongin replies flatly, looking out the window in boredom. “Huh, funny. Last time I checked, you said you were working at his hotel. Who’s the big boss there? Where does all the money come from? Him. Same thing.”

“Are you familiar with the triggers of migraines?” Felix abruptly places a hand on Jeongin’s shoulders, almost giving him a heart attack.

Jeongin doesn’t know much about migraines but he does know that your stepbrother is high-key a weirdo who just happens to be born with a butt load of money. “Uh…no?” If he happens to live in the same home with this idiot, he’s gonna go insane in a minimum of twenty-four hours. No doubt.

Felix excitedly laces his hand together and you mentally facepalm yourself. You’re so over his discussion about stuff like this because you know damn well he’s just trying to take it out on people after being stuck in med school for two years. He’s convinced that he’s gonna kill people instead of curing them so his mom gave him the consent to drop out to prolong the family’s legacy. “Here are some of them so that you know what not to do; from most likely to least likely: emotional stress, hormone, not eating, the fucking weather, sleep disturbances, certain odors, neck pain, alcohol, bright lights, smoke, certain foods, exercise, sexual activities, etc.”

“Sexual activities? Like a hangover after getting laid?” Jeongin asks.

“No, like just sex itself but it’s not supposed to happen that often so don’t worry too much about that.”

You automatically grit, feeling the need to bleach your ears after this. “Do not encourage him.”

“Hey! This is for educational purposes! Besides, it’s not like he’s still a little boy or whatever, he’s an adult now. #LifeCoachingWithLeeYongbok.” Felix takes no time to defend himself. “Now, I wish I could lecture you about the hypothalamus and give you a long-winded explanation of the science behind it, but Imma spare you for today.” Even if it were possible for you to sew his lips together, there’s no doubt that those unnecessarily inappropriate words would still find their ways to crawl out of his mouth and potentially mess up your little brother’s entire existence.

You let out a humorless chuckle, one that yells ‘hey, stop before you fucked it up for the rest of us’. “I’d hate to poke your enormous ego, but whoever attends your classes is gonna have their life crumbling right in front of their eyes.”

Felix simpers at your attempt of a clapback. “Actually no, people who attend my classes drastically turn their life around because they know what not to do. If you think about it, all of my advice to you has been great. I just don’t practice what I preach,” he tuts in that deepass voice of his, not noticing how Jeongin’s face is morphing into a very disgusted expression. “Just one more shot, I’ll be fine. I can quit whenever I want. I’m not addicted,” he mocks one of his friends who can’t stop drinking for their own good. “No, you won’t you lying bitch. An example of someone who followed that sentiment is right in front of you.”

He fairly believes that he can become the youngest professor to be teaching at a college or university with a Ph.D. in the ‘Getting your shit together’ Department.

But in your eyes, these are just some of the side effects that he got from hanging out with Minho so much. Being bitchy and all. If anything, Minho should be the one who takes his spot and becomes the youngest staff for big places like Harvard or Oxford. And you’d love to continue this nonsense of an argument but you’re already pissed off by that staff previously so you should just let him win or your dad’s gonna find you three ending up in the E.R.

“So this is what I get for setting you up with Chan,” Jeongin crosses his arms and you glance at him sideways, staying silent for the rest of the drive home.

three. Chan dreads the packing process after a long tremendously because not only does he have to trust his idiotic friends to not damage his luggage, he also has to help them pack since they are literal children. Changbin’s butler straight up shakes his head when Chan FaceTimed him, asking about how he usually helps him with preparation for a trip. He really hopes his family pays the man good money because dealing with Changbin’s impulsive, indecisive ass sounds extremely exhausting, and burdensome as well.

“Which one?” Changbin refers to a dozen of black tuxedos hanging inside the dressing room, and Chan feels like his brain’s about to retire.

He exclaims in frustration, “THEY’RE ALL BLACK FOR FUCK’S SAKE!”

“No you uneducated moron,” Changbin purses his lips, “There’s carbon black, raisin black, olive black, super black, coal-black,..which one’s sexy enough for me to snatch myself a date at the party?”

“Seo Changbin!”

Chan’s been so sensitive these days, to the point that he decided to whack a mosquito with his MacBook the other day. He did miss the mosquito, but also, he almost killed Jisung who’s taking a nap right beside him in the studio. And apparently, Han Jisung holds grudges. Hence, there’s no way in hell is he gonna help Chan in the ‘Getting Seo Changbin aka the snobby brat the perfect tuxedo’ Operation. It would be way easier if Jisung was here.

Changbin interjects his trains of thoughts, “Silk or wool?”

“Uh- silk.”

“The Gabardine one or the smoking jacket?”

Chan makes a face, “Smoking jacket?” Whatever that means. He didn’t like the shoulder pads on the other one anyway.

“You heard him, Park, go get that ish and wrap it up! Go go go!” Changbin pauses for a second, “Wait, no, actually…just take them both.”

Call him delusional, but in the span of ten seconds, Chan fully believes he’s already entered (or has been pushed into) the Panamera 4 E-Hybrid that’s waiting outside of the mall. Jisung’s sitting in the passenger’s seat, honking the car repeatedly while the Seo family’s chauffeur is constantly throwing daggers at him with his eyes. Now he’s starting to question if bringing Jisung to the mall would be the wisest decision.

“What’s with the grumpy face, grandpa?” He chimes unhelpfully with a pout on his face. And now all Chan wants to do is to deck his perfect teeth and knock upside his head. “You really need to lighten up, old man, you’re going home!” He groans dramatically, arms crossed like a three-year-old.

“Yeah, going home,” Chan says with expressive hands. “To put on a goddamn show for my grandparents so that they won’t have a heart attack knowing that I can’t give two fucks about their promise with some random family in the same circle.” He’s on the verge of breaking down just thinking about going hand in hand in public with another woman that’s not you. It makes him sick to the stomach more knowing that he’s been hiding everything from you.

He’s such an asshole for doing this to you. Avoiding your calls and texts every other day becomes almost all too unbearable for his shoulders. Instead, he’s been trying to leave you voicemails every other week but it seems like you’ve already despised him. The night of Woojin’s wedding comes crashing down on him as he takes a stroll down memory lane. He might as well be cursed because there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to have you in his arms again. The saying: “out of sight, out of mind” works for some people as an excuse to forget someone but truth is, he still misses you, all the time, every second, every minute, every hour, every day.

“So you didn’t tell her?” Changbin perks a dark brow.

“Not yet…”

“You should though,”

Chan barks, “I know! She just won’t answer my voicemails,”

“Then call her you coward!” Changbin immediately barks back, fingers still tapping away on his phone, “Look, if Y/N was your date in the first place, you would be crazy giddy and all right now, and not the nervous kind of giddy, but like the exciting kind of giddy. You are so loopy in love with her it makes me wanna feed my eyeballs to my dad’s German Shepherd whenever you’re FaceTiming her,”

Chan’s been clenching his jaw for God knows how long, and now it’s starting to ache. “Don’t say that, she probably hates me. Like you said, I’m a coward. I don’t deserve her and she doesn’t deserve this. Falling for Y/N was probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. All I’ve been doing is tearing us apart. Sometimes I wish I didn’t fall for her—“

“—listen up, you genius. If falling for Y/N is a sin then so be it. Because being in love with her is gonna be the best fucking mistake you’ve ever made in your twenty-three years of existing,” Changbin’s words start zeroing in on Chan, so when he opens his mouth to say something, it automatically snaps closed. “I’ve never seen your eyes do that thing where they sparkle whenever we mention her name or when you’re just simply giggling to yourself while texting her. And have you seen the way that she looks at you? She looks at you like you’re the only person to exist on this planet, like someone she’s ever truly loved more than herself.”

Chan drops his gaze from Changbin to his knees, his heart beating rapidly at the sound of your name. Goddamn, he really misses you. “It’s okay, Bin, even if she hates me. I can—“

Changbin interjects immediately, gripping onto his friend’s shoulders tightly and stares into his tired eyes. “Don’t fucking tell me that it’s okay because I saw you alone in the studio every night. You were crying like a baby!” Seo Changbin gives really good advice because pushing people to their limits, not crossing them, just dangling at the edge so that they can’t stop acting like a loser and get their shit together is what he does for a living. Without getting paid a single penny.

“It’s because I’m losing her! I did that to myself!” Chan shudders at his own words, shaking his head profusely to hold back his tears. The idea of losing you sounds so terrifyingly panic-stricken that he would rather lose anything else than not have you in his life, or just not having you at all in the first place. Chan was an idiot for kissing you that night but something deep down still tells him that “screw life, you said what you said and you did what you did, now go out there and get her back before she falls into someone else’s arms”.

Changbin corrects him, pinpointing his words. “You’re losing her, you didn’t lose her yet. You still have an opportunity to make it up to her.” He knows Chan long enough to know that his friend doesn’t easily wear his feelings on his sleeves, mainly because he’s the eldest in 3RACHA. If he falls, the group’s gonna fall with him. But today, seeing the pool of tears in his eyes, the raw emotions in his voice makes Changbin believe that he’s senselessly, wildly in love with you. He knows damn well that Chan would never let you slip away again.

“This is your chance, to prove to Y/N that you’re still the goofy, caring, dumbass Bang Chan that she has already fallen in love with, not only once, but twice.”

four. “Have you been hearing anything from Chan? He hasn’t called me for two months. Changbin and Jisung have been avoiding me like the plague too.” Woojin asks you with a questionable looking drink in his hand. Minho said he mixed the masterpiece with all of his blood, sweat, and tears. You don’t know how to take it, metaphorically, or literally because both options would make sense. You’re just fairly concerned for Woojin’s liver since he’s been attending too many parties, mainly for business but still, that doesn’t mean he’s not gonna stay away from alcohol.

So much for adulting.

“Not really,” you didn’t want to admit that Chan was ignoring your texts and calls before but it’s quite obvious now that he doesn’t want to talk to you. You didn’t think about it much at the beginning because everything must have been so hard for him in a foreign country where young talents are out there competing with each other like they’re in The Hunger Games. But daily conversations turned into weekly, and then monthly and then basically non-existent. No more ‘Good morning’, no more ‘How was your day?’, no more ‘I miss you’. None of that.

The kiss that day seems like it’s disintegrated into literal dust.

‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’ sounds like utter bullshit now and you’ve never felt so foolish for saying ‘I love you’ to someone you truly believe won’t take your heart and crush it. But Chan did just that. You spent lots of sleepless nights thinking, and bawling your eyes out. You felt so lost and tremendously hurt. You didn’t know what to do. But you soon figured that it’s okay, people aren’t supposed to know what to do in those kinds of situations. You just gotta figure it out by yourself. So wherever he may be, whatever he’s doing, you still hope that he’s happy. That’s all that matters.

Or maybe you’re just too tired to reach out to him again.

You reply with a lifeless smile, bracing yourself for the upcoming party that’s starting in less than an hour. “He hardly talks to me. He doesn’t even text me in full sentences anymore.” You shrug it off casually, ignoring the sound of your heart aching to focus on other stuff for the time being. “Maybe he’s just busy? You know how problematic the music industry is.”

“Being busy isn’t an excuse to ignore your loved ones, Y/N,” Woojin knits his brows together. “Mind you, I still come home to my wife at nine o’clock, every single day.”

You check the time and almost panic, but before you can form a proper sentence, someone’s already dragged you away from the scene, “Look after Jeongin for me! Got it?” You yell back at him only to receive a thumbs up with a grimace. Woojin is the CEO of a well-known IT firm, after all, no one’s gonna mess with Jeongin if he stays by his side. The last thing you want is your brother coming home sobbing his heart out just because some wonderbread doesn’t know when to keep their mouth shut.

“I’m like..” You trail off while tapping away on your phone. “—pretty much free tomorrow morning, right?”

Chaeyoung - your assistant frowns and stops you midway, smoothing out your baby hair. “Not quite, you can’t skip DBR at seven,” she asserts. “And the daily phone call with your dad- I mean, the CEO at half-past six as well.” It’s obvious that everyone wants a coffee in the morning and since it’s a common time to gather, it seems like DBR (or Daily Business Review) is a good idea to just have a meeting before the day starts. The rules are simple. The meeting can not last more than half an hour and to make sure, you all stand up. You talk about the night before, VIPs coming in, the forecast for the coming day and any common issues to the group. Then you all dismiss and go to work. This way, everyone is on the same page 24/7.

“Oh, and a meeting at three too, and also the Kims Are coming in fifteen minutes.” She checks her watch subconsciously and it reads [7:30p.m.]

“Right, right,” you close your eyes for a moment and let the information sink in, slightly taken aback by yourself that you forgot Jennie’s coming back from New Zealand. The party won’t start until eight, you can still spare fifteen minutes and chat with your friend before being pulled away into utterly unnecessary conversations. “I can’t believe I almost forgot Jen’s visiting us…” You murmur under your breath, “God, Chaeng, what would I do without you?”

Chaeyoung pushes your shoulder playfully, “You’d die, obviously.” She’s not necessarily wrong because if it weren’t for her to manage your shitty schedule, your life would become a fucking merry-go-round which makes you all nauseous and dizzy. As if you’re not being tossed around and fucked up enough.

“Hypothetically speaking, I can just hire another assistant and move on with my life,” you smile cheekily.

She follows you towards the front desk, where Lisa is too busy texting someone cute to focus on her main task: greeting people that she despises with her entire existence. “Well, hypothetically speaking, no one can replace me and you would never have the heart to do that anyway.” Again, you hate it when she’s right. And she’s always right. Because she’s Park Chaeyoung.

You put your phone away finally and ask her about your beige suit with matching high-waisted slacks. “How do I look?” Also, you’re never wearing heels again because you’ve learned not to torment your precious feet when you’re gonna be out and about, being dragged around like a rag doll. Woojin’s wedding taught you that.

Chaeyoung gives you the warmest smile, “Like a boss bitch,”

“You have to come with us to Bora Bora this summer! We just opened a summer resort there with a beach and spa services, it’s absolutely delightful! Very fitting for de-stressing, dare I say.”

“How convenient! Do you see these wrinkles? We were all exhausted after the flight from New York. And I’m stressing over how it’s impossible for my son to improve his English. How in the world is he gonna travel the world for business trips now?”

“Ew,” you automatically scrunch your nose at your stepmom’s conversation with the Senator’s wife. “If we’re gonna act like that when we’re their age, I’d rather jump off a cliff.” And Chaeyoung clears her throat awkwardly when she sees your mom waving you over, giving you a pat on your back. There goes your fifteen minutes of freedom.

You quickly fix the lapels of your blazer and muster a sickly sweet smile, just for the Senator’s wife. “Yes, mom?” Or in this case, ‘stepmom’ but you wouldn’t want it to be awkward for the both of them. She does treat you with nothing but kindness and generosity although you’re not her actual daughter.

“Honey,” you almost snort at the nickname. Honey is practically a bee’s vomit. So you don’t really see the point in calling people bee’s barf. Ain’t cool. “You must know that this is the Senator’s wife, she suggested that you and their son can perhaps—“

You cut her off sharply. “No,”

“Y/N, don’t be so rude,” she laughs nervously as the Senator’s wife wears an unreadable look on her face. As if she’s interested in your particular kind of demeanor like you’re a completely different species. She doesn’t seem to be mad or offended at all. “I’m sorry, you see, this girl can play hard to get from time to time…and—“

You elect to ignore every word that comes out of her mouth from this very moment. Not again with this bullshit. An arranged marriage is basically a living embodiment of your biggest nightmare. You can’t imagine being tied down to a person that you barely know just because of their social status or for the sake of mutual benefits. Not to mention, every guy in the circle is all the same anyway. Disrespectful, egotistical, and only show mild interest if the person they’re marrying at least has something to offer that’s related to cold, hard cash in the long run.

It feels like the world just stops spinning when you flutter your eyes upwards and make direct eye contact with him. He enters the front entrance in a full-on black tuxedo, black silk shirt tucked neatly into his pants, chestnut hair rather well-styled, and black dress shoes. The outfit looks like it was made for him, personally tailored to every detail of his body. You almost scowl and look away until you recognize that smile, those midnight orbs.

To your dismay, the Senator’s wife exclaims, “My goodness! I told him not to wear that specific shirt!” before excusing herself from the conversation.

“Uhm is that…”

“Oh yes! That’s their son, Jaemin. Felix used to go to the same kindergarten as him, I believe,” your stepmom explains calmly, watching how you’re slowly becoming interested in the Senator’s only son. So that explains the black Mercedes in front of Jeongin’s apartment. “He got sent to a private school in the UK after graduating from middle school but somehow, I don’t know how he still can’t speak fluently English. Maybe you can help—“

You quickly realize how fast the situation’s escalating and you must say, you’re not letting that happen. “Sorry mom, Jen’s here! I gotta go!” Learning to let Chan go is one thing, but getting yourself into an arranged marriage with another guy who cares about nothing but money is an absolutely torturous idea.

People change, they all do eventually. But sometimes they don’t. Certain things can never fluctuate despite the circumstances. For instance, Kim Jennie still pulls you into a bone-crushing hug like she always does the moment she spots you in the crowd. Her gummy smile didn’t change, her gestures, the way she walks with pride didn’t change and you highly doubt that she no longer sneaks cute boys into the house when her parents are conveniently abroad. But she definitely looks more mature the last time that you guys met in Paris.

“Wow, Jen,” you utter. “You look…good,” Tonight she’s wearing a white dress from Chanel, diamond earrings and bold red lipstick. And don’t even get you started on her ring, you’re pretty sure that it was a present from the brand themselves. She is the ambassador, after all, they would be more than happy to spoil her with their newest collections.

Jennie takes a look at your outfit, twirling you around before breaking into a fit of giggles. “Good? I look good? You look gorgeous! Look at you! Well, actually you look just fine in your PJs as well. Heck, you can even breathe in this thing, I can’t relate,” she beams and keeps on admiring you as if you’re her own life-sized Barbie doll. Baggy clothes can look good, she knows that now.

Jennie clings onto one of your arms and receives a glass of champagne from a waiter, smiling at him softly. “So, how are you enjoying the party, manager Lee?”

You threaten to spill alcohol on her fifteen thousand dollars dress but only proceed to roll your eyes because you value her money too much for the sake of being petty. “It’s kinda meh,” you make a face. “But you know, let’s just get it over with. And to be honest..I’m kind of sick of socializing with people that I don’t even like.”

“Oh really?” Jennie raises a brow curiously when she sees a certain someone in the midst of the chaotic party. “Someone seems to be interested in you though, that cutie over there…” She then motions towards the general direction of Na Jaemin, the person who you’ve been trying to avoid all night. “I think he fancies you. Been eyeing you up and down for the past ten minutes,”

Right, you also forgot that Jennie didn’t know about you and Chan.

“Actually—“

“My God! Did you see that? The Bangs are here!” She gasps and tries to tiptoe in order to get a closer look, allowing her heels to dig into her feet even more. You won’t blame her, the Bangs are basically the biggest developers in Korea. Real estate, investment, tons of things, tons of boring paperwork but you do respect them for what they do. “I heard their eldest son’s dating some up and coming artist, her exhibitions were quite successful, all big hits since last year. It’s mind-blowing!”

You pull your friend back in time when people are shoving each other before her white dress can be contaminated with the bubbly champagne. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to patch your lips together?”

“Damn, he looks fine,” your friend murmurs and has you roll your eyes for one too many times tonight already. “I’m not messing with you, look!” She grabs either side of your face and turns it sideways, towards the front entrance.

You feel like someone just kicked you to the curb and stepped on you, knocking the breath right out of your chest. It’s Chan, it’s really Chan. Navy tuxedo, brown hair styled neatly, he looks even more beautiful than the last time you’ve seen his face. Beside him, hand in hand is another girl. She has the most delicate features and probably the most angelic smile in this world. She’s looking at him all lovingly, the same look you gave him approximately a year ago when you thought that the kiss did mean something to him. Apparently, it didn’t. Now you feel like a paper bag being thrown away, forgotten in the corner, drifting through life like a haze.

Your heart is stuck in your throat, slowly crumbling into dust when you see how he smiles at her, the dimpled smile that you treasured with your entire heart. They look like they are meant to be. And yes, you wanted to see him again but not like this. It’s like karma’s trying to tell you that this is what you get for falling in love with Chan faster than a tick of a clock, for foolishly holding onto false hope. And your butt load of money doesn’t matter anymore because your everything is already being held in someone else’s arms.

Now you’re the one who’s left with a broken heart.

five. In the dead of the night, you no longer feel the sounds of your heart shattering into pieces. Chan’s just making it easier for you to forget him.

“Y/N?” You stay unresponsive at his voice calling out to you. Every cell, every muscle, every neuro inside your body is yelling at you to turn around and throw your arms around his neck. The willpower that you’re mustering to not do that right is impossibly terrifying. But you’re not giving in again, not this time. You won’t be able to piece your heart back together after a second heartbreak. “It’s been quite a while huh? Are you—“

You turn around with glossy eyes, tears threatening to spill any second. Chan’s words get caught dead in his throat upon seeing you on the verge of breaking down. It hurts more knowing that he’s the one who made you cry. “You should have told me..” Your voice cracks and it breaks Chan’s heart into a million pieces at how broken you are. “You should have told me if you wanted to cut it off sooner..” You smile bitterly with tears rolling down on either side of your cheek. You no longer care about how pathetic you may sound or look, you just want to be completely transparent with him.

Another thing that you hate about yourself: how you just let yourself go exposed and vulnerable right in front of his eyes. “What happened to ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’? Does our kiss that night mean nothing to you? Was I setting the bar too high? Was I…getting in your way?” You ask him between quiet sobs, not bothering to put on a fake smile anymore. You’re too exhausted for that anyway. “You didn’t even tell me..that you’re part of the Bangs family, like the Bangs family. What else are you hiding from me, Chan?”

Chan grabs you by the shoulders to hold you back firmly, eyes boarding into yours fiercely. His touch once made your heart weak, now you feel nothing but disgust when his fingertips graze past your clothed skin. “Y/N, listen to me. You don’t understand— she’s not—“

“Y/N!”

Chan snaps his head towards the owner of the voice and grimaces when he sees Jaemin waving at you from the other side of the room. You gotta be shitting me. Chan then looks over at you in disbelief, eyes almost popping out of their respective sockets. Out of all people, you’re dating Na Jaemin? The Senator’s son? Without letting him know? And you’re accusing him of hiding things from you when you’re also with someone new already? “You know,” you wipe your tears away and look him dead in the eye. “I’ve always thought that all the guys in my dad’s social circle were a bunch of ignorant jerks, but it turns out you’re the asshole.”

With that, you briskly walk away with your phone clutched in your hands, knuckles turning white as you bite down your tears. Chan’s gaze trails after your figure until you’re completely gone, falling into another man’s arms like it’s your safe place. Jaemin caresses your cheekbone and smiles at you. You return it too, bitterly. It was supposed to be Chan who makes you feel like the happiest woman in this world, not the one who takes your heart and crushes it into pieces. His heart breaks, again, and again, and again, and again until he no longer feels its presence beating inside his rib cage. There’s something else more than just distance between the both of you now, something that was never there in the first place. Little did you know, you’re not the only one with a broken heart after all.

“Jaemin right?” You sniffle when he lures you away from the party, away from the chaos, away from Chan. “Thank you, I can manage myself now.”

Jaemin shakes his head and speaks to you softly. “Nonsense. I’m staying here with you. The party sucks, but don’t take it personally.”

You chuckle with teary eyes, but you’ve determined not to cry again tonight, especially not in front of the Senator’s son. “Does my brother know that his tutor is the son of the Senator?” Jaemin shakes his head again, the warm smile never once leaves his lips. He gently wipes a single tear that unknowingly rolls down on your cheek and heat flares through your nostrils, a shade of coral scattered across your face. This is why you never cry in front of a stranger.

“There, there you crybaby,” he comforts you with a hand on your shoulder, the other pulling out a handkerchief to dab your tears away. “Who knows the manager of the Carpe Diem Hotel is such a softie. I heard from the staff that you’re fucking scary when someone gets on your bad side.”

“Then don’t get on my bad side,” you roll your eyes in annoyance. “But God, I really can’t blame them. Our people are so posh, and snobby—“

“We’re basically snoshy,” he finishes your sentence and laughs. “Your brother tells me that all the time, if only he knew about my family. He’s most likely gonna murder me in my sleep.”

You roll your eyes, pushing his hand away slightly. “This is why we’ll never get a happy ending of our own. What’s the point of owning all the dollar bills when we’re just sad motherfuckers? And people wonder why we all prefer one night stands. I fucking beg to differ. Maybe I shouldn’t have kissed him that night. Maybe I was nothing but an instant filler for his non-existent love life. ‘Do you still want my phone number?’ He didn’t even bother texting me anymore! Bullshit!”

Jaemin doesn’t know you very well but by the looks of it, you’re definitely not the type to lash out on someone very often. You must have been furious with that Chan guy because whatever he’s done to you, shit must have stung. Because you still look at him with those eyes. Eyes of those who are madly in love. He can’t change that.

“Y/N,” he pulls you into a hug and rubs little circles on your back as an attempt to soothe your aching heart. “Listen, it’s okay if he’s not the one. He might be the wrong person at the right time for all I know. And your soulmate is probably taking their sweet ass time because they are completely oblivious about your existence. But they will be there for you, they will, I promise. You know damn well how life likes to toss us around right? Love is patient, love is kind. And it will come one day.”

You snicker and hug him back, grateful for how he’s already consoling you although you’ve only met twice. Maybe he isn’t like the other boys in the same circle, maybe he’s different even when he dresses the same and looks the same. “Cliché sayings are cliché for a reason, Jaemin,” you laugh before pulling away, staring into his starry eyes.

“I know I know,” he squishes your cheeks together and chuckles. “But hey, sometimes they’re not wrong either. Tell you what though, I was so close to decking that guy in the face back there but I didn’t want to go all Alpha Apeshit and appeared as a douchebag then get blood on his goddamn Tom Ford. Just throwing that out there in case it does help you feel better.”

You can feel your tear-stained cheeks cool against the night breeze. The balcony seems to be the only place that you can seek calmness in, mainly because there’s no alcohol and no one to push you from one boring conversation to another with the same topics. Your people are basically repeating themselves over and over again about money and arranged marriages which you’re not very interested in so yes, you don’t see the purpose of throwing parties that only consist of the top 1%. You lean your back against the railings and watch the party from afar, letting the background chatters sink in. Soon this whole place will be within your grasp along with many others, but you’re afraid that you’ll be lost in your own empire.

“No offense,” you turn back to him and smile. “I didn’t think you’d be able to throw a punch at all.”

Jaemin makes a face, “I’m not like those wonderbreads over there,” then smirks devilishly. “But I’ll never be one’s knight in shining armor. Life just teaches me things that our people don’t. For example, living in a mansion won’t teach you how to throw or take a proper punch. Also, wear black because you’ll never know whose blood is gonna be on there.”

“So you’re saying that being sent to boarding school is the best thing that’s ever happened in your life?”

“Not quite,” he winks. “The best thing that’s ever happened in my life is to have the pleasure of meeting you.”

You shove his chest and laugh wholeheartedly, it feels nice to talk to someone like this. “Don’t flirt with me and find yourself another trophy out there, I’m too bitchy to fit in with those chicks.” You jerk your head towards the girls who are all dressed up in fancy dresses and heavy jewelry, finding amusement in how they’re all eyeing Jaemin up and down like he’s a prettier version of an ATM. “And also, what do you expect? You have the look, the money, know how to kick someone’s ass. That’s more than what a trophy wife needs.”

Jaemin scratches his neck sheepishly. “I don’t know how to take that but thank you, you look better than all of them honestly. I don’t know why women choose to suffocate themselves in a dress and torment their feet just to attract guys with thick wallets like me. I think I’ll need to settle down sooner or later and I’m not planning on doing that with a brat who only sees how many dollar signs I can afford on Yelp.” He sighs in pure frustration and a puff of cold air escapes his lips.

“Haha very funny, Na Jaemin is adulting like how the Senator’s son should be in his early 20s,” you joke. “And no, I’m not gonna make fun of you for that. You want me to pinpoint where we are right now? Adulthood.”

“No! I’m being serious!”

“Keep telling yourself that, kid.”

“Let me take you on a date and prove it.”

“You’re drunk,” you laugh nervously. But suddenly he inches in closer and your breath hitches in your throat. Nope. He’s dead-ass serious. “You’re being fucking serious, aren’t you?”

Jaemin brings your hand up and presses a small kiss on your knuckles, “See you around, manager Lee.” before sliding away with ease, leaving you blushing so furiously that you almost forgot your heart was broken that night.

six. While you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack because of a date, Kuma - Jennie’s Pomeranian is complaining to you with his eyes about his first world problems aka, Jennie leaving his favorite toy back in New Zealand. “Yes, yes, I get that it’s absolutely unforgivable of her to do that.” You acknowledge and nod absentmindedly, petting him gently. “If anything, I can do you a favor and douse one of her favorite dresses in pickle juice.”

“But also what?” You tilt your head slightly, “She what?! She insulted your favorite tuna bites?! She’s a witch! Burn her!”

“I can’t stand the goddamn smell, that’s all.”Jennie glares at you while hauling her suitcases out of the closet. “You dramatic, bitchy, ungrateful ass.”

“Jen, it’s just a dinner date.”

Jennie dodges your eye roll and proceeds to rummage through one of her ten suitcases, throwing dresses and bodysuits all over the floor. She’s lucky the suite has plenty of extra space or you won’t be able to see the floor in the next fifteen minutes for all you know. Kim Jennie goes ham on picking out clothes for her favorite bitches because not only is she one of the most acclaimed actresses but she’s also a fashion icon, influencer, and Chanel’s one and only darling. Hence, knowing that you’re going on a date with the dress code: formal; she freaked out and dragged you all the way from your house to the hotel that she’s staying in.

You facepalm yourself onto the extra king-size bed and sighs into the soft blanket. Yeah, that’s how rich the Kims are. Not king-size, but extra king-size that can fit at least four people but still have extra leg space. You know where to have your girls’ night this weekend now because you’d rather not have Ryujin whip your ass for bringing friends over.

Your groan grows louder when you keep hearing Jennie repeats “I’m a genius, a fucking genius!” to herself over and over again until she stops. And that’s when you decide to push yourself off the bed carefully to not wrinkle your clothes. “Look at this baby!” She holds up a long, bedazzled gown with spaghetti straps. Gives you a very 70s vibe but you’re not mad at it, you think you might be able to pull it off. “Listen, if you don’t look good in this, I’ll call Chanel and drop it as a flop, got it?”

Wow, Chanel is hanging on the edge of flopping by a strand of hair just because of you. The pressure’s on.

Jennie shoves you into the ridiculous-sized bathroom with marble floor and all, she’s definitely not letting you wear one of your blazers today. “Knock knock,” she impatiently leans against the door after what seems like ten minutes. But all Jennie’s met with is dead silence, she’s starting to get worried now. “Y/N, you good?”

You barge out of the bathroom with a panicked expression, shrieking. “Kim Jennie what were you thinking?!” When she gives you a what-do-you-mean look, you mentally groan to yourself and are kind of ready to call the date off. You’re not going out looking like this. “It’s 64 degrees outside and you’re making me wear this?!” You do a full 360 turn to only to show her the awfully low cut on the back of the dress, and she immediately claps happily like a seal. God, what is wrong with your friend?

“Stunning! Absolutely stunning!” Jennie nods to herself like the evil mad mind genius that she is. “You’re pretty tolerant, so I think it’s not gonna be a problem.”

“Do I have a say in this?” You eye her in defeat when she helps you on a dainty necklace and a pair of silver earrings.

Jennie puts her hands on her hips and almost laughs, admiring you like a piece of art, a creation that she will forever keep in her heart. “What makes you think so?” And off to the date, you go.

Jaemin picks you up not long after, wearing a full-on white suit in his black Mercedes. It’s not hard to guess that it’s his favorite. Since the party from last week, both of you have been texting and FaceTiming non-stop, it almost feels like he’s making up for the lost time that Chan’s wasted. For the Senator’s son, he’s surprisingly approachable, very quirky but charming at the same time. Jaemin does give an effort to make you laugh every time he sends you the same memes over and over again. Hey, it’s not your fault his humor is impeccable.

But being one of the Elite, you can’t blame him for wanting to do it the old-fashioned way. Fancy restaurant, having waiters drape white napkins over your lap, cheesy classical music in the background and the typical candles to set the romantic atmosphere. The place is quite busy too, some ladies in their forties are wheezing in helpless laughter as a waitress secretly shoots them dirty looks while a group of businessmen is eating in silence, an old couple is feeding each other in the corner and a younger couple that you don’t really pay attention to since they’re too far away. Sometimes you wonder what that feels like, to have someone by your side forever.

Maybe forever is just not meant for you.

Forever might not be for you, but going on a date feels like a fresh breeze passing by after so much pain and agony. Jaemin always tries to make you feel as comfortable as possible but still manages to make you laugh until your stomach hurts and tears are evident in the corners of your eyes. He’s not one of those guys who’s not used to hearing the word ‘no’ and never pushes your boundaries. But the feeling’s not there, it’s just not there at all and you wish that it was. You can’t play along then end up breaking his heart later on. No one deserves going through that, not even the ones who lost your trust.

“Okay..” Jaemin peels his eyes away from his crème brûlée’s when you set your fork down. “Just to be clear, I don’t hate you but I would never date you.” And he immediately chokes on his big bite, coughing furiously into the white napkin. You’re very straight to the point, he appreciates that, but still, ouch.

“Tell me three valid reasons why I should stop going after your heart.”

“One, I don’t wanna break your heart. Two, I don’t want you to break mine. And three, I just threw it in the trash.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes rather dramatically, holding back a lighthearted chuckle. “So what? You got your heart broken by some bastard and now you’re gonna distance yourself from everything that’s related to ‘love’? Do you really want to spend the rest of your life like this? Alone? In your giant mansion with your butt load of money?”

“Yes,” you nod without hesitation, trying to ignore the bitter feeling that’s rising in your throat. “And technically I can adopt as many puppies as I want to.”

“Fair enough,” he sighs and moves a bit to the side. “There’s your man, twelve o’clock.”

You feel like you would personally gouge your eyes out of the sockets the moment they land on Chan and his current girlfriend at the opposite table if you weren’t sane enough for a Michelin-rated restaurant. They’re both wearing black, laughing and talking with each other like they’re the only beings left in this world. You wonder if fate could be a bit more generous to you, just a little bit, then would you be there with Chan instead? You’ve told yourself one too many times not to dwell on the past but like always, you never learn. And you know that you’re dumb but you still don’t get why fate forces two people to meet each other knowing damn well that one of them is gonna leave the other behind.

But this time when you look more closely, his smile looks somewhat forced and the dark circles under his eyes have been darkened by time. He looks so tired and drained but still keeps up the smile for his date. A pang of guilt hits you hard when you realize that you should have listened to what he had to say at the party. He doesn’t look happy, that’s what ticks you off.

Chan subconsciously flickers his eyes upwards and meets yours, completely frozen in his spot like a statue. His smile falters, eyes going wide from surprise, utterly, undeniably speechless. It’s not easy to read what’s going on in his mind but you’re positive that he doesn’t seem to expect to see you in this kind of situation. He quickly averts his gaze back onto the other girl, laughing nervously so that she won’t turn around and accidentally see you. Your heart unknowingly sinks to the pit of your stomach.

“It shouldn’t be like this,” you never knew that you’ve been crying until Jaemin gently wipes your tears away with his handkerchief, his eyes softening at your sobbing form. “But it is what it is.”

seven. Chan quickly calls in a cab for his date after sliding his credit card across the counter. He grimaces slightly when she presses a goodbye kiss on his cheek, and then waves her off when she enters the taxi. After receiving his bill, Chan pushes himself through the busy waiters and waitresses, mumbling small “sorry” along the way until his feet lead him to the long flight of stairs.

And he sees you standing there with your back against him, fiddling with your fingers nervously. He knows you’ve never been good at hiding how awkward you are so it gives him a tiny bit of hope when he finds out he still has this kind of effect on you. But when he takes a few more steps forwards, his jaw almost drops to the floor when he can finally get a closer look at your dress.

Chan’s never seen you in a dress before, but he believes that you have the ability to pull off anything. He’s not wrong after all. The dress hugs your figure perfectly and in the most flattering way, leaving him in complete awe. But you’d never choose a dress, even when it’s a formal dinner. Goddamn, that kid is one lucky son of a bitch, he mentally curses.

You meet Chan once again on a balcony, but tonight you’re met with a sky without stars. It seems like they can’t even muster the courage to see where this conversation is gonna go.

“What’s her name?” You ask breathlessly, still not willing to make direct eye contact with him.

Chan inhales deeply, and exhales, “Her name is Eunji. Apparently, our families had an agreement that we’re gonna be engaged once we reached a certain age. I’m so sorry for shutting you out without a proper explanation, I really am. I’m such an asshole.”

You finally can look at him without getting all teary-eyed, your lips trembling. “It’s alright,” then you quickly look away to avoid any awkwardness. “You guys look good together, I’m happy for you both.” And when Chan doesn’t say anything, you decide to ask him softly. “But are you?”

He buries his face into the palms of his hands and sighs heavily. “I- I don’t know, I just don’t want to let them down. And I tried so hard to tell them that I already had someone else but I’m just scared that—“

“That they won’t accept me because you didn’t know that I do in fact, make cold, hard cash?” You stare deeply into the distance and laugh humorlessly. “After all those years, I had no idea, no fucking idea that you were Christopher Bang, like the Christopher Bang, the one who’s supposed to take over the family’s business, the most eligible bachelor in the country.”

Chan grabs you by the shoulders, catching you off guard when your noses are barely touching, his warm breath fanning your face. “Speak for yourself. You’ve never even told me that you were Felix’s stepsister. All those years of college, and I only know that you’re the manager of the Carpe Diem Hotel now. And why are you dating the Senator’s son again? Last time I checked, you’re still leaving me messages even when I went MIA or put the phone on silent all the time.”

“I can date whoever I want to,” you try to shove his arms away but his grip only gets tighter. “And no shit, you know I’m not into guys like that. We’re not dating, he offered me dinner after seeing me so miserable at the party.”

And you quickly assert with a fake smile. “But that’s not the point, is it? Let me guess, if I were not some daughter of the CEO of the biggest hotel chain in the country, then you would never tell your parents about me, would you? You’d rather marry Eunji so that your grandparents won’t potentially disown you instead.”

Chan shakes his head profusely because he could never, would never, can never, and will never trade you for anything else in this world. “No, you don’t understand- I- just- just give me some time and-“ He loves you too much to the point that his heart bleeds a bit whenever you catch his gaze from across the table and return to your conversation with Jaemin, giggling and laughing at his lame jokes like nothing’s ever happened. But his biggest problem here, is how can he convey his love to you once again when you’ve already despised him with every single cell inside your body?

You narrow your eyes at him, slightly amused by how he’s stuttering. “And?”

“Let me make it up to you,” he tells you after running a hand through his brown locks. “Come with my family on a cruise trip next month in Singapore. I’ll prove myself to you and do everything in my power to get your trust back. Even if things can never be the same again. I can’t lose you, I won’t let you go this time. Bring whoever as your plus-one, just not that kid…I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

“How are you so sure that you’re not gonna break my heart again?”

Chan says breathlessly and goosebumps automatically bubble up on your skin at his words, “I’m not. Because I know that no matter how many times I stupidly, or impulsively hurt you, you will always stay. And I’ll always be there to gather the broken pieces as if you’ve never felt the pain before.”

A long, muffled silence occurs between both of you. You quickly look away after a good ten seconds of making eye contact with Chan. He’s having that kind of effect on you like how he used to and you’re determined not to fall again. You’d hate to have your heart broken twice by the same person. “You do know that we wouldn’t have worked out anyway right?”

Chan doesn’t say anything, instead, he turns around and calls a ride for you. His eyes look stormy that night, impossible to read as if there are so many things on his mind at the same time to the point that his head becomes cloudy and nothing makes sense anymore. He doesn’t even wave you goodbye when you get inside the car but his gaze never leaves your figure until it’s completely gone in the distance.

You know that it’s something more than just love because your feelings for Chan are still there even when he’s not. You’re just far too busy being depressed inside your bedroom, under your fuzzy blanket to notice them. Now they’re back, again, for the third time, much, much stronger and more powerful. You don’t know whether this is hazing because falling for someone more than twice just sounds unhealthy for you, a person who lives off donuts for two weeks straight because you need the push of the sugar crush in order to avoid caffeine. Chan just stepped into your life like how he did about three hundred and sixty-five days ago and completely broke down the fort you were trying to build.

Call you an idiot, but is it bad to think that he’s not planning on leaving any time soon?

eight. You hate cruises for plenty of reasons, and one of them being, not surprisingly, a cruise is basically a hotel on water. The concept of a hotel floating on the water makes it a trillion times cooler and unnecessarily overrated. In your defense, having a massage or partying ‘til dawn while not knowing when you’re gonna drown to your imminent death is petrifying. Maybe you’re just bitter about the fact that people don’t appreciate normal hotels enough, because they really don’t.

Okay, if you have to choose one thing not to hate on a cruise, then it’s probably the mini theatre that Chan personally demanded for his chaotic group of friends. Hey, privileged people need some wholesome, chill times with friends too.

But the fact that almost everyone has already seen Stranger Things makes you feel more like a grandma than you already are. These are the times where you rarely choose to sit next to Jisung because you’re both on the same boat for once. Other times, you’re just bickering like the reincarnations of every movie where the main characters constantly want to put the other’s head on a chopping block but end up falling in love anyway; except, you will never fall in love with Jisung. That’s so creepy on so many levels.

Creepier than whatever the fuck of a demonic image that Hyunjin’s about to show you, being the pest that he is. “We have four votes for Stranger Things and four votes for Spider-Man: Far from home,” he announces in that irritating voice of his while hogging the whole bowl of popcorn to himself. “So what’s it gonna be, Han? Choose wisely, my friend,”

Jisung sips on his Coke and points his index finger at his roommate as if he’s accusing Hyunjin of murdering someone, “I’m with Y/N, because screw you,” he’s not entirely wrong because, without a doubt, Jisung’s soul is gonna detach itself from his body after the first episode. “And if Chan were here, he’d agree with me,”

“Nope,” Chan conveniently steps in when you’re about to do a fist bump with Jisung, taking the seat on your right despite plenty of other (about twenty-six) empty seats. “We’re watching Stranger Things, it’s been almost thirty minutes and all you guys have been doing is aiming at each other’s throat,” he whips out a small remote from his pocket and clicks the ‘play’ button without anyone’s consent. He has no right to do that! You don’t think you’ll ever forgive him after this.

Chill time isn’t so wholesome anymore.

So basically the whole plot is about a boy going missing, flipping a whole town from Indiana upside down. Everyone spends days and nights, desperately trying to find him until one day, a little girl with a shaved head comes into the story and makes the entirety of the movie that much weirder. And more horror-worthy when she’s being chased by ‘bad guys’. This is another reason why you hate Chan: he can’t be bothered about what he’s watching because he’s only here for good food. And probably your suffering. But mostly just good food.

Actually, it might be the other one because you can clearly see that stupid grin on his face when you pull your hood low enough to cover half of your eyes so that you won’t be potentially haunted at night by whatever’s ready to pop on screen. And Jisung’s already clinging onto one of your arms like his life depends on it, legs quivering in his boots. You really don’t wanna accidentally elbow him in the face when there’s an inevitable jump scare.

“Chan, you sadist, I hope you’re happy for doing this to me,” you sneer at him with gritted teeth, frustrated about the fact that you can’t singlehandedly feed him to the sharks.

Chan leans in slyly, lips dangerously close to your ear. “That’s for you ogling Tom Holland,”

Jisung automatically gasps scandalously, once again opening that useless mouth of his and decides to put you on trial. “A compromise was almost made, Y/N you monster!” (Actually no, he’d never survive law school). Jisung wiggles himself out of his seat faster than a lightning bolt and snuggles closely next to Woojin, who’s staring at the screen like someone’s forcing him to watch one of the worst pantomimes to ever exist. Great, now you’re stuck with Chan in the very front seat, having no choice to hold onto him like he’s your last option before falling into your impending misery in the next sixty minutes.

This asshole is really—

The moment you’re ready to pour a paper cup full of Sprite over his head, Jisung and Hyunjin just happen to whimper and yelp at the same time, with the same amount of awfully loud volume, spilling their own endless string of curse words with the same length while holding onto whoever’s lucky enough to sit next to them. So naturally, you stupidly let your guard down and cower like a child watching Snow White for the very first time and being absolutely terrified of the ugly witch. You’re far too busy thinking of ways to bury Hyunjin alive to realize that you’ve unknowingly pulled yourself closer to Chan and hid your face in his chest.

“Hwang Hyunjin you fucking moron!” Jisung yells at the top of his lungs when another demonic scene occurs, sending actual chills down his spine. He almost misses the feeling of still having a vendetta with his friend back in the good old high school days when they’re still wrestling each other every two minutes. Also, you’ve never felt this bad for Jisung (or even related to him) in a fairly long time, because… same.

Hyunjin can officially kiss your Jeep goodbye because you’ll never let him borrow it again. That idiot.

“You’re such a baby,” Chan comments and purposely cuts off your trains of thoughts so that you can peel yourself off him and look straight into the screen again, at the wrong time.

“I’m not your baby—“

You hiss in panic and throw yourself onto him again, trying to calm yourself by listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat and persistent pace of breathing. You’re already mentally apologizing to Jennie because you’re 75% sure that she’s not gonna be able to sleep with you sticking to her side like a jellyfish. There was this one time you all watched The Conjuring because Jisoo insisted so much and except for her and Lisa, no one got a wink of sleep that night so you’re not sure how you’re gonna survive this when there’s no pillow or blanket to protect you from all of the horrifying sound effects and imageries.

Chan secretly bumps his fist with Jeongin in the back, who’s a little bit too occupied with Hyunjin crushing his bones every two seconds. The perks of hitting on a friend’s sister. Works like a charm, he smirks internally. “Little Y/N is scared, how precious,” he looks down at you, and a smile blooms on his lips, enjoying the blissful feeling of having you in his embrace again.

“I am not scared!” You still can’t learn to accept that sometimes, admitting to your defeat is better for your own good.

“Then why won’t you look at the screen then?”

“Because- oh my God, what the hell was that?!”

“It’s okay to admit that you’re scared, I can protect you,” Chan boasts with his chin high up. And you’d love to blush at his affectionate words right now, really. Only if he didn’t quickly jump into conclusion because of your crush on Tom Holland and chose the movie in the span of a split second.

“Christopher, this isn’t funny!”

“Well, I certainly didn’t try to insult you in any means at all, ma’am. I don’t see what’s the problem here,” he singsongs, gently draping an arm around your shoulders. This time, he’s glad that you didn’t end up punching him in the gut.

“Shut the fuck— Jesus Christ!” You screech when the demonic image keeps flashing in your mind, driving your head around in circles. “Chan, I swear to God, you’ll regret—“ you don’t even bother to finish your sentence and have no choice to hold onto him like he’s your only source of life, without him, you’ll soon disintegrate into fine dust and slip away easily. If Lisa was here, she would record the whole thing and play it on the slideshow of videos that she’s been preparing for your upcoming birthday. Thank God she’s playing beer pong with BamBam somewhere on the second floor.

That sounds so melodramatic but it’s not necessarily wrong. Chan still has that same sense of comfort whenever your skin comes in contact with his, even when it’s a thin layer of fabric away, you can still feel how badly it burns like a reminder for you that he’s here and he’s not going anywhere. Nothing’s going to change that, your intuition has told you before but you elect to ignore it. You’re starting to realize that you let Chan into your life again just like that, let him tear down your walls, and lit your heart on fire.

But what you don’t know is that his heart is still beating vigorously in his chest cavity for you, after all this time. His one and only.

“Hey, hey,” he tells you softly.

“What? Don’t make me look, I don’t wanna see it, I don’t wanna hear it either, I’m scared okay just don’t—”

“No, Y/N, look at me,” Chan chuckles and takes your face in his hands, forcing you to stare into his starry eyes. All you can see is an entire cosmos, more wondrous and beautiful than everything you’ve ever seen. He shines like he owns the entire universe in his existence, glowing from within and leaves you utterly speechless. Your head starts to become fuzzy and your heart dips when you realize how terribly close you are to him.

Chan takes your head and gently places it on the left side of his chest, smiling. “Can you hear that? It’s your fault, yeah, you did that to me,” The calm rhythm of his heart cancels everything out; all you can see is him, and all you can hear is his heartbeat. You spend approximately one second debating whether you should kiss him and you hate every moment of that one single second, you dread every nanosecond of it.

“Are you still afraid?” He whispers and you shake your head almost immediately without replying with what’s in your head. Like no shit, you’re more than just petrified right now, this is by far, one of the scariest, most frightening, and most nerve-racking decisions you’ve ever made in your life.

At that moment, it feels as if you’re standing on the edge of a cliff with him by your side. And you do exactly what he’s asking you to because it’s the only thing that you can do.

You jump.

nine. Weirdly enough, you miss college.

You miss those days where you had to finish the entirety of your morning routine in a span of five minutes so that you could be out the door and not miss the bus. You miss those moments where you had to skip two steps at a time on the longass flight of stairs just so your professor wouldn’t have another excuse to yell at you other than the overdue assignments.

You also miss college parties, not because they’re ‘lit’ but because things were simpler back then. People come, drink, get wasted, fight someone (or make out with someone), and then go home. Actually, no, they usually make out first thing first in the front porch because college students don’t give two fucks about their dignity and decency. You definitely didn’t miss that. And also those times where you ogled Chan during lunch breaks or when you both took the usual 4419 to college on a daily basis.

Everything gets a little more nostalgic when Minho slides your usual mojito across the counter and gives you that cat-like smile of his. Somehow, it makes you wanna hug him and bite his head off at the same time but you’re not wasted enough for that yet. You just need to get your mind off Chan when he’s too busy being tormented by his own family.

“Zero sips and you’re already dreaming about Chan? Gee, if I’m not mistaken then you’re so in love with him, manager Lee,” Minho is in his element, surrounded by good music and alcohol. In which, there’s no point in arguing with him anyway because you’re basically vulnerable and defenseless when everywhere you go, you see Chan’s face.

You down half of the mojito in one go and the bartender in front of you almost staggers backward from utter shock. Normally, you’d be snapping back at him with a witty retort instead of being all sappy and dreamy like this. This is not good. “My my, you’re really thinking about him, aren’t you? So tell me, how does that feel? To be deeply in love with another human being,” he leans forward to approach you, propping his head up with his hands. You murmur a small “bullshit” and proceed to toss your head back for a bit, shaking the weariness away.

“Listen, I might be heartless and all but when I accidentally put Tabasco into Jisung’s orange juice instead of honey the other day, I did actually feel bad about it. I felt a rush of empathy for a split second there,” Minho muses when he sees the corners of your lips curl upwards, stretching into a small grin. “It was wild, and then I just thought; is this what it feels like…to be a decent human being? Edgy, I know.”

You laugh dryly with boredom glinting in your eyes. “You know, if you’re going to distract me from thinking about Chan, at least be good at it,” his mouth drops open at your statement, completely gobsmacked. Oh, how the tables have turned. He’s never felt so defeated and useless before. Usually, he’s the one who makes others speechless. It’s not hard to tell that he hates it when everything just flips upside down.

“Bitch please,” Minho says with puckered lips. “Even if I spiked your drink, you’d still repeat his name in your dream like a mantra because you’re so fucking whipped for him,” he stops for a while to train his undivided attention on the Tequila Sunrise for Jisung who’s already smashed after two beers. He can really use some counseling, Minho ponders. “And you wouldn’t kiss Chan back if you hated him, gotta love stupid feelings that you can’t even explain for yourself, am I right?”

You take another sip of your drink and exhale, staring into his sharp eyes. “Excuse me, who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Lee Minho, genius, dancer, fashion icon by day, party animal by night, personal counselor,” he holds back the urge to slap you across the face with Felix’s Gucci slippers and instead, musters the sweetest smile. Being a bartender and a potential alcoholic at the same time definitely doesn’t help because he wishes he could just chug a whole bottle of vodka before you complain to him about your miserable love life. “I believe I’m qualified enough to give you some solid advice. So shut up and listen to me—“

“—I’m trying! But Minho, what if I’m the delusional one? What if he just wanted a fresh start so that we wouldn’t be so awkward towards each other? A kiss can’t possibly mean something. I mean, if you consider our New Year’s kiss, it meant so much to me but I don’t know if—“

And now, Lee Minho, self-proclaimed, genius, dancer, fashion icon by day, party animal by night, personal counselor; doesn’t have the slightest earthly idea of what the hell he should do. God, serious relationships are so fucking complicated to the point that his brain is yelling for retirement. Usually, he just poisons his friends with a dose of some common sense and solid logic to knock them back to reality in order to figure out whatever they’re going through. But this time, he thinks he should just let you fall further and further until Chan catches you instead.

Now that he’s thinking about it. Chan definitely didn’t pay him enough to be the bartender and a personal therapist for the love of his life.

“Seems like you’re not enjoying the party,” you instantly turn around because you can realize the owner of the voice in the matter of a split second. The moment Chan’s eyes are locked with yours, your heart immediately jumps up to your throat and then drops back down to your chest. If only this was because of the mojito, you’d feel better about it somehow but unfortunately, Minho gave you a non-alcoholic one today.

You can tell that he’s already hammered by the smell of alcohol when his warm breath brushes over your nose and how his cheeks are redder than usual. Minho quickly excuses himself from the scene to save himself from witnessing a mediocre, drunk confession session. And also because people are starting to pour in by the second, so the bar will probably be overpopulated in the next ten minutes or so. It’s downright a college party again except for the fact that everyone is floating on water but still, alcohol-thirsty pigs are still pigs. Everyone’s sloppy and lightheaded to the point that you’re already hearing the janitors crying themselves to sleep tonight.

“I’m enjoying it more than you if you couldn’t tell already,” your face morphs into a frown when Chan giggles and stumbles around like a madman. He would have facepalmed himself onto the marble counter with various bottles that probably cost more than one of his cars combined and made a scene if it weren’t for your hands steadying the blades of his shoulders. The warmth of your fingers radiate through his denim jacket and sinks into his skin, making his head a little fuzzy while you’re wondering how the fuck did he get this batshit drunk when Minho was with you the whole time.

“What the hell did you have?”

“I don’t know, BamBam asked me to try out some of his new cocktail recipes,” Chan hiccups and allows you to fling one of his arms over your shoulders. “Guess I didn’t consider dinner with my family afterward. Mom said I should just get some rest but I was thinking of you, so voila, I’m here now,” he gives you that signature boyish grin of his that never fails to make your heart skip a beat. But this time, your frown just grows deeper because since when did BamBam know how to make cocktails? And almost knocked Chan out too? You know why you should just stick to Minho’s mojito now.

Your eyes widen in panic as Chan almost trips over your foot when Hyunjin accidentally bumps into his back. “Oh Y/N, I’ve been looking for you,” the younger boy tells you with a Margarita in his hand, curiosity laced in his eyes. “No, scratch that, actually, some guy called Jaemin is looking for you,” Hyunjin then leans closer to a very-shocked-looking you and tries to shout over the loud music. “Who is that guy anyway? I heard rumors going around that he’s the Senator’s son or—“

Even though Chan’s not very sober at the moment and all he can hear is “some guy” and “the Senator’s son”, he knows that he needs to get you out of here as soon as possible. That bastard, Chan thought he’s already eliminated him from the guest list. Without a second thought, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you away from Hyunjin although he’s not the real threat here, piloting you through the sweaty bodies grinding against each other to the EDM music in the background. He was gonna take up the DJ duty tonight but really…is he gonna let you have another encounter with Na Jaemin? Yeah, he thought so too.

Before you can even register the whole situation, Chan’s already backed you up against a wall in his bedroom, a hand over your mouth with the other on the small of your back. Time seems to stop when you see the golden flecks in his eyes, floating softly in his nebula, and you’re absolutely, definitely, totally falling for him all over again. He’s so incredibly beautiful it leaves you moonstruck, wondering how can God be so unfair to make Chan look better than you even when he’s wasted.

Everything starts moving once again when a series of “have you seen Y/N?” echoes through the hallway and you can physically feel Chan tighten his grip on your body, jaw clenching too much that it might hurt. You know that voice all too well; Na Jaemin is here. And he’s looking for you. But you can care less right now because your heart automatically does a flip when Chan makes direct eye contact with you, his index finger hovering over his lips.

“Y/N, I need to tell–“

But this is not the time to fawn over how good he looks, you tell yourself with such determination.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” you help Chan walk over to his king-size bed, his limbs wobbly and unstable. After a solid minute of struggling and panting, you finally have Chan laying on the bed, legs dangling off the edge. While you’re too busy unfolding his blanket, he’s murmuring gibberish that you can’t quite, choosing to ignore it like how you’ve ignored Woojin snoring at two in the morning during a camping trip. “Chan,” you shake his shoulders slightly. “You’re gonna fall flat on your face if you sleep like this,”

You hiss through gritted teeth helplessly. “Chan!” But he doesn’t even move a single muscle. “You idiot, why did you agree to drink all of those cocktails?” You’re going to rip BamBam’s head off of his neck next time with your bare hands, it’s on. “Chan!” Your last attempt of waking him up fails miserably when he scrunches his nose a little, then proceeds to move on with his slumber.

Yeah, he’s definitely gone.

Or not.

Just when you’re about to give up and leave him as he is, Chan grabs you by the wrist and pulls you flush against his chest, heart thundering more vigorously than ever. He easily rolls the both of you to the side with no effort, only to get a better grip of your waist, his breath tickling your nose. At the suddenly close proximity, you can take a closer look at his long lashes that framed his eyes perfectly, his tall nose and his plump lips. Chan looks so ethereal and otherworldly that you wonder what it feels like to run your hands through his hair, dance your fingers against his jawline and press your lips against his.

But you also notice the bags under his eyes and how his brows are slightly knitted together. He doesn’t seem to be doing a great job at taking care of himself after all and it makes your heartache knowing that he didn’t have any other choice. It’s no one’s fault, really, though, in scenarios like this, people would love to point fingers and make assumptions out of something that they don’t even know. Falling in love with Chan for the third time can be the best thing that’s ever happened to you or it will eventually push you off a cliff, straight into a downward spiral.

Whatever the consequences are, you’d never trade him for anything in this world. Even if it means getting your heart broken all over again. You’re willing to walk through fire and step on thorns just to be by his side again. But at the same time, you’re not sure if he feels the same because if not, you’ll be left with nothing. Maybe he’ll forget all of this in the morning. Maybe it’s never meant to happen anyway.

Chan suddenly pulls you in more and his lips are terribly close to your flesh, your eyes going wide in panic. Moments later, soft snores escape his mouth as his chest heaves up and down in a calm rhythm. It reminds you of when he hugs you in the theatre, embarrassment soon flares through your nostrils and sprinkle a shade of coral on the apples of your cheeks. You can’t help but smile, arms snaking around his firm waistline.

Chan hugs you so tightly that you blindly believe that he needs you. As if it’s his way of saying “stay, it makes me feel at ease that you’re right here, in my arms again”. No one has ever really needed you. As sad as it sounds, your family can still move on with life just fine even when you’re not there. Your friends have their own jobs and other relationships as well, they don’t actually need you. You’ve never felt anything quite like this before, it’s a little bit frightening but also a little bit tempting.

Yep, you think to yourself. I’m done for.

Goddamnit BamBam.

ten. Chan groans loudly when the early daylight hits him like a truck, knocking him out of his semi-unconscious state. Hangovers still hit him hard, but this time, shit hurts way worse because someone still has a lot to learn as a mixologist. He smells like alcohol, probably looks like trash, and his head is fuzzy yet [insert culprit’s name] is standing right in front of him, all dressed up like he’s about to do a drug transaction.

“Bro,” he narrows his eyes to do a full scan of the bedroom, plopping himself back down only to realize that you’re not here. “You fucking suck at making cocktails,”

BamBam only chuckles humorlessly at that, five of his drinks didn’t even put a dent on Changbin yet the infamous Bang Chan wasn’t able to stay sober to not have a girl carry him to his bedroom. “Drink,” he gives the glass of water in his hand a light thrust before handing Chan a tablet of aspirin with the other. He’s also decided that it’s a lovely Sunday morning and he doesn’t have time for this shit. He should be chomping on breakfast in bed with something on the TV right now. But, he can’t risk having Chan roam the cruise looking all homeless and insane.

“I can’t believe not only did you let Y/N into your room, slept in the same bed as her,” Chan chokes on the big gulp of water that he’s just taken, and everything from last night starts pouring back to him like an unwanted nightmare. He was far too drunk to even remember every detail, he just prays to whatever gods up there that he didn’t say anything stupid. “Yet you didn’t even confess, great fucking job.” BamBam asserts like the true friend that he is, accidentally pushing Chan closer to his imminent misery.

Chan snaps his head up and almost screams aloud that his heart’s about to jump out of his chest, “You wanted me to what?!”

“You heard me,” BamBam tongues the inside of his cheeks in annoyance, regretting the amount of money that he spent to tip one of the cruise’s staff so that he could sneak his own alcohol in safely. “You know what that means? That means you still didn’t shoot your shot! You did not shoot your shot! Which entails? You’re gonna be lonely for the rest of your life and eventually die alone. You’re gonna die alone! You hear me?”

Chan thinks it’s way too early for him to endure BamBam repeating himself over and over again like a crazy person. He might still be slightly hammered because all he’s hearing is “shoot your shot” and “die alone”, he’s confused because why in the world is his best friend making him choose between killing someone and dying alone? Wait, no, actually….he might mean something else. Chan’s just in denial.

“Where is she?” He rasps out tiredly after taking the pill and downs the whole glass of water.

“Lisa carried her back to Jennie’s room in the middle of the night,” BamBam informs his friend, watching how his eyes are starting to turn stormy, and then he exhales out of relief. “She almost murdered me! This is all your fault!” He cries out dramatically before belly-flopping himself onto Chan’s bed, metaphoric tears dripping down on his cheek.

Chan perks an eyebrow as if BamBam just offended him, as if he’s mental and just made it out of an insane asylum. “My fault?” He questions, his voice getting louder and louder at the end. “Whose idea was it to poison me with your questionable drinks? Whose idea was it to make me all batshit drunk? Whose idea was it to let me into the party so that I could find the only thing that I’ve been trying to avoid all night? It was your fault, okay?! It-was-your-fault!” He deadpans and soon realizes that now he’s the one who’s repeating himself.

BamBam is more than confused right now because didn’t Chan want this after all? To confess to you once again and get you back? All he was trying to do is basically give his friend a teeny tiny sprinkle of motivation and this is how he repays him? Now he looks like an idiot who has been trying to sabotage the relationship between the two protagonists of another horrible rom-com. Jackson was right, he should have just played ping pong in peace and not stick his nose into other people’s business.

“Look,” he places a hand on Chan’s shoulder as he sighs deeply into the palms of his hands, mentally debating how the fuck can he make it up to you now. “She could have just refused your invitation of stepping onto this cruise. She could have pushed you away when you tried to kiss her,” BamBam stops midway to suppress his laughter at how Chan’s cheeks are taking no time to turn into a brighter shade of pink. “And, she could have left you alone and drunk at the bar, and- I don’t know, hang out with Na Jaemin or something.”

When a muffled silence descends in between the current civil conversation, only a confused look crosses Chan’s features and all BamBam wants to do right now is to put his head through a goddamn wall. “Jesus fucking Christ…” he murmurs to himself. “Minho’s right. You both are so dumb it’s physically hurting me.” Not exactly the most comforting words to tell a person in crisis but things hitting hard like this actually helps Chan a lot more than how people usually sugarcoat their words.

“Listen, it’s not like there’s no more fish in the sea but have you ever met someone who instantly clicked and just simply fell for you? She didn’t know that you had money, she didn’t know anything about your family. She could care less about your social background too honestly, because she fell for who you truly are,” BamBam hates to be cliché, really, but it is what it is. “Y/N has never gone a day without checking your notifications, she was so broken when you suddenly just shut her out like that. And yes, you were an asshole for doing that but can’t you see how hesitant she was every time you’re trying to get closer?”

Chan looks up at his friend, his tense muscles finally relaxing. “Which isn’t the point…”

“Which isn’t the point,” BamBam tells him, looking more serious than ever and it’s freaking him out. “Because what I’m trying to say is, it’s still not too late to shoot your shot.”

eleven. Maybe you deserve someone else, but deep down, you’ve always wanted Chan. And in your heart, you know that it’s right because humans only want the love they thought they deserved. You think part of the reason why you can never seem to let go of him is you’re just scared that something so amazing won’t happen twice. People might call you out for dwelling on the past but you call it a coping mechanism.

Magically, you’re starting to get used to the frequent encounters with Chan and Eunji since they’re also apparently part of the Privileged. You really should give yourself a pat on your shoulder for not having a mental breakdown whenever you see them hand in hand in public. The forced smile on Chan’s face always gives you the tiniest strand of hope that he’s just putting on a show as demand from his family. But at the same time, you’re scared that you’re just being delusional and you’d never have anything to do with his life from now on. Perhaps he wanted a fresh start so that everything can be like how they used to back in college? He didn’t want to “lose you again” because he still wanted to be friends?

But every time he tried to sneak a glance towards your direction and smiled, all you could think was: “Oh, shit,”

You knew that you fell for him twice, and you’re still falling. Every. Single. Day.

“Like what you see?” Changbin brags on the other side of the curtain, followed by a string of gagging noises by Jisung. And you secretly want to take a picture of his face, for science, obviously. But by that, you mean to blackmail him whenever wherever you want because he’d rather not have his fans gushing over him looking like a dying donkey, inside a fifteen thousand dollars suite on a cruise.

“You look like an idiot.”

Jisung voices with pure disgust in his tone. “Who the fuck lend you a white tuxedo?” Needless to say, you try to picture Changbin wearing a white suit and you immediately scrunch your nose up, shaking your head profusely. Changbin looks especially good in dark colors, but you’re not saying that he wouldn’t look good in brighter tones, it just feels weird not seeing him in a black tux, even when it’s just for a small party.

“My sister! If anything she’s an idiot,” he’s probably throwing his hands up in frustration. “She said I should switch things up. And I trusted her, now I feel like an idiot.”

Jisung asserts like a snake, “You look like you have a stick up in your ass, it’s so high up I can literally see it whenever you’re opening your mouth.” He’s probably man-spreading on the blue velvet couch, playing with the glass of bubbly champagne that he’s specifically requested. You don’t get why he would want to drink when he’s waiting for his friends in the dressing room but he will, just because he can.

“Ew,” he spats not long after. You’re not sure if he’s referring to the drink or Changbin’s outfit. It might be the drink, it’s shit but it gets the job done. It’s more about the concept of looking elegant and fancy more than the concept of getting wasted, in order to not look like a corrupted person. “Why would you godsend privileged, snoshy, live-and-breathe-in-money people deadass drink this instead of a nice Tequila?” Yep, not surprising.

Changbin protests, clearly annoyed. “Because we can afford that shit, just like how there’s a random, money dripping guitar in the dressing room,” you don’t even have to peek to know that he’s rolling his eyes to the point that they’re gonna fly out of their sockets. “But at the same time…true, I don’t like it either. That’s why I never get wasted whenever I go to parties like these, man, I miss college parties,”

God, this zipper is driving me nuts, you mentally curse when it gets stuck halfway and your arms are already giving up on you. Where’s Jennie when you’re in desperate need of her help?

“Whatever, let’s go find your sister and get you in a new tux,” you can hear Jisung pushes himself off the couch and settles his champagne down on the coffee table. “No offense towards her…I just fucking hate it on you,”

“Wait, guys—“ the moment you try to call out to them, they basically shut the door of the dressing room. “Well, shit,” you sigh, quickly realizing that 1) you don’t have your phone with you; 2) you can’t just run outside to grab it because what if Changbin and Jisung get back here at an untimely moment; and 3) there’s no way in hell you’re gonna ask one of them to zip it up for you. Now you’re forced to stay in a confined space with your only protection aka the red velvet curtain that looks way too cliché for your liking. Seriously, isn’t Jennie supposed to be here with you? It was her idea to put you in another dress, which you hate with a passion but you can never have the heart to tell her that.

The door swings open again and you exhale out of surprise, “Thank God, Jen. You’re here. Can you help me with my zipper? It’s stuck, and my hands gave up on me,” you immediately turn around, a sense of relief washing over you.

“Do you think Chan’s gonna hate seeing me in a dress again? I mean, I did call him an asshole when I wasn’t wearing one,” you stop to take in a breath, completely oblivious about the fact that it wasn’t Jennie who opened the door. “…but I was kinda acting like a bitch when I was wearing one too. I was so furious knowing that he’s seeing someone else behind my back that I wanted to bite his head off. And now I’m stuck here with him, his family, and that chick, in a hotel, on water, floating spontaneously somewhere near Singapore.”

Wordlessly, a pair of hands push the curtains aside to tug onto your zipper, slowly adjusting it and careful not to break it at the same time. Once your dress is zipped up all the way, you’re ready to turn your head and thank your friend. “Stay still, I’m not done yet,” your face automatically burns darkly when you come to a realization that it’s definitely not Jennie, most definitely not Jennie. In fact, it’s the person you’ve been planning on avoiding all night. Before you can decide when to make a run for it and save yourself from the imminent embarrassment, a silver necklace is draped around your neck, a diamond-studded buttery resting nicely right below your collarbones.

“Beautiful,” he says again in that honey-dripping voice of his. “You should wear dresses more,”

“Chan! You just scared the living daylights out of me,” you whisper harshly, turning on your heels and shove his chest. You definitely didn’t know what you were signing up for because it’s a grave mistake for you to accidentally look into his captivating eyes and you can see an entire universe in them. Absolutely magnificent. He looks impeccably good in his bejeweled black suit jacket, black turtleneck, and a silver chain around his neck, matching pieces of jewelry adorning his ears.

Chan wiggles his brows like the self-indulging person that he is, straightening his lapel dramatically. “Hmm, I don’t know if you can smell that, but it reeks of jealousy in here, and also hatred, but mostly jealousy.”

“Can. You. Zip. It. And. Call. It. A. Day.” With every word, you repeatedly slap his chest, but only to see him breaking into a fit of giggles in return. You almost forgot that he works out, whereas, you literally have zero ounces of muscles on your body. What a disgrace to your family. Like come on, even Felix has abs, and he never turns down Tacos Tuesday whenever he has dance practice with Hyunjin because their studio is conveniently situated right next to the best Mexican restaurant.

And the guacamole there? Phenomenal.

Chan teases, “I thought girls like you should be taught to act like a lady, not hitting the innocents.”

“Stop being a baby, Bang, it’s not like I’m gonna leave you with a bruise or two.”

Ah yes, this reminds Chan of the good old days of college where you’re both in that weird phase where you’re too much of a scaredy-cat not to talk to him on a last name basis because Changbin was an idiot for constantly leaving you two alone in the music room. “Why?” His lips curl up into a grin. “Because you can’t even open a jar of spaghetti sauce by yourself?”

That’s…that’s just a harsh truth. And now you feel like Regina George getting hit by a bus because life’s willing to give you a piece of its mind. You’re weak as fuck.

“It’s not fair when Felix has a six packs while eating tacos every other week, and I’m here looking like this with a green smoothie for breakfast every day,” you mumble bitterly, already too tired to argue with Chan because the party’s starting in half an hour. “I swear he’s on drugs, he always puts something into his daily Americano.”

Chan laughs breathlessly and cups your face with his hands, squishing your cheeks together. “I’m pretty sure it’s just stevia since Lix has a sweet tooth. On the bright side, I think you look just fine like how you are right now. I like you just the way you are. No modification is needed.” The audacity.

Your nostrils flare with heat, and your cheeks feel hot against Chan’s cool fingers. Again, Chan looks really good tonight and you’re not sure how much longer your heart can hold up before you pass out in his arms. “Uhm, so, just to make it clear,” you fiddle with your fingers nervously. “You and I-“

“Hey guys, how are things going—” Jennie pops her head into the dressing room and looks around, seeing no signs of Changbin or Jisung whatsoever. “What did I miss?” She looks at you cluelessly, then her lips automatically spread into a shit-eating grin when she sees how Chan’s cupping your cheeks. Just when you thought you can’t possibly blush any more darkly.

You awkwardly pull away when Chan clears his throat, retrieving his hands from your face. “Jen, just get out, I swear it’s nothing.” Yeah, as if Jennie aka the person who proclaims to be an expert at love because she’s snuck way too many boys into her closet, is gonna believe your pathetic attempt at an explanation.

“Oh, I’ll get out,” Jennie throws you a wink and you can see how Chan’s shuddering slightly at the dangerous glint in her eyes. “Now, don’t get too freaky in here okay kids, walls are pretty thin,” she asserts unhelpfully like the true friend that she is before shutting the door close. When you’re about to blurt out as many apologies as you can muster to Chan, a soft ‘click’ echoes through your eardrums. Your eyes grow alarmed almost immediately and so do Chan’s.

Did she just lock you inside the dressing room with Chan and expect something to happen? Kim. Fucking. Jennie.

“I hate you, and Jennie,” you tell Chan, not even bothering to hit him this time.

You’d rather take a nap on that couch over there than go out and party honestly. Parties only consist of two things most of the time: drinking and talking. But getting wasted is not an option tonight because you’re not about to spill rosé on the dress that Jennie adores the most. Although you do hate her ass right now.

And people don’t even hold proper conversations during parties unless they know each other, there are only small talks which are so….ugh. You don’t understand the purpose, the meaning of speaking to someone with a maximum of three sentences. You need a real, authentic, civil conversation about a specific topic that’s worth one’s time. Not just “how are you liking the party?” and “yeah, it’s dope, you?” or other gibberish nonsense.

Sometimes you feel bad for those people because their lives are staler than those crumbs of bread that pigeons feed off.

Chan tips his head back and releases the most obnoxiously loud series of laughter that you have to hold back the urge to kick him off the cruise. “You know you love me,”

“I don’t.”

“If you don’t then why would you dash through the airport like a madwoman just to hug me and tell me those three magic words?”

“Too bad, my brain just refused to recall that memory.”

He grabs your chin and angles it so that you’re directly looking into his eyes, dimpled smile, and all. “Then do I need to interfere and remind you?”

You don’t think you’re gonna make it through tonight if Chan keeps making your chest swell like this.

twelve. You and Chan have decided to change into more casual outfits and ditch the formal ones to strip the awkwardness and tension to a bare minimum. And by ditching, you mean hanging them up nicely so that Jennie won’t strangle you later. It is her dress after all. But you have every right to burn it since it was her idea to lock you up with Chan in a dressing room. Thank God it’s almost the size of her closet. Now, you’re both laying flat on your backs on the navy fuzzy carpet before the white couch, already moved the tiny coffee table away so that you won’t accidentally knock something that costs a fortune over. Kind of insanitary too but you can’t care less.

“Are you hungry?” Chan turns his head and asks you, warm brown eyes twinkling under the dimmed light.

“No,” you shake your head, and as if on cue, your stomach rumbles involuntarily. As Chan bursts into laughter, you quickly cover up your pink cheeks with the palms of your hands, internally groaning in pure agony. “Yes, I am hungry like a normal human being should because it’s already midnight, sue me.” You confess.

If only some of Ryujin’s leftovers were here. This is exactly why you refuse to eat out most of the time. Why bother hiring high-end chefs and having fancy dishes when you’ve already had a roommate who’s born into cooking? God, you miss her spaghetti.

Chan props his head onto one of his arms and looks down at you, a glint of mischief evident in his orbs. “You know what’s a whole fucking gourmet dish? Me,” he peels your hands away from your face with ease, holding onto them tightly to prevent you from smacking his chest.

You roll your eyes at him in the bitchiest way possible, yanking your hands away from his because every touch burns like fire and you’re not letting yourself be vulnerable tonight. If you still remembered some of the moves from the martial art classes that mom forced you into when you were in middle school, Chan wouldn’t stand a goddamn chance. You almost snap someone’s arm in half back then, but those days are long gone.

“You? Please, you’re like those piles of unwanted leftover vegetables that everyone keeps giving away to their most annoying relatives,” you start talking big with no intention of meaning it.

Chan’s not just a single dish, he’s an entire buffet. You could never imagine how it felt like for him to have thousands of letters and notes pouring out from his personal locker when he’s wrapping up for the day. Yeah, a total heartthrob. That’s why all of the dumb bitches on campus would always circle around him during breaks, no matter where he went. You were one of them too, you’re also a dumb bitch. Except, you didn’t need to stalk him, Changbin did all the work for you: inviting you to sit with them during lunch breaks, letting you ride the 4419 home alone with Chan, consistently hinting at Chan about your stupid feelings for him every two seconds,… In all honesty, you should be thanking him but you also want to throw him into a tank full of sharks.

Chan gasps, like audibly gasps as if you’re throwing shade at him, which you totally are. “You’re such an absurd, unreasonable, incongruous, preposterous-“ he pauses midway because he’s already running out of big words for ‘ridiculous’ to call you out on; it takes guts and Oscar-worthy acting to insult his godly appearance and impeccable visual, it really does. “—whatever, doesn’t matter. I know that you’re lying,” he singsongs before pushing himself off the carpet, stretching his limbs tiredly.

You think it’s almost two hours since you’re laying in a single spot, and you’re not risking having any parts of your body paralyzed so you get up, proceeding to do the same thing. “I can’t believe you didn’t have your phone with you,” you throw your hands up in exasperation, careful not to chip one of your nails. Lisa didn’t spend an hour on them for nothing. “And no one is even looking for us! Literally no one!” You can’t exactly blame your chaotic group of friends because they’ve probably fallen asleep since formal parties like these are so damn boring but Chan’s parents not freaking out about their missing son? And his “fiancé” too? That’s oddly concerning.

“You don’t have your phone with you either,” he snickers, hands reaching for the random acoustic guitar in the corner of the room. “I doubt that Lisa or Jisoo’s gonna get us out of here, I don’t even have faith in the two other parts of 3RACHA anymore.”

“What about your fiancé?” You ask him out of the blue, completely ignoring the sudden pang in your chest.

Chan shrugs nonchalantly, strumming some random chords with the instrument. “I broke it off with her, in front of my parents.”

“Cool then-“ you almost choke on your own saliva, “—hold up, did I just mishear you? Did you dump her?! In front of your parents?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” You heave, feeling your heart rate increasing by the nanosecond. Not only did Chan break down the walls you’ve been trying to build, he utterly eliminated the invisible barrier between your life and him (sorry Jaemin), and he knocked down the only obstacle left that’s in his way. Now, imagine two dots with a single line to connect them both. Everything’s as simple as that but your brain is already fried from coming up with one hundred and one ways to move in the slowest way possible.

Chan keeps strumming the guitar in his arms but purses his lips at your particular way of responding to his previous statement. “You know, a ‘thank you’ would be nice. And no, they didn’t disown me. I was like ‘fuck it’, and I told them everything. Not everything-everything, but like everything-everything, you feel me?”

No, I don’t fucking feel you but I can physically feel the shame and agony that’s slowly dawning on me you moron, you think to yourself, inhaling and exhaling deeply to prevent yourself from exploding like a ticking bomb.

“What did they say?”

“They didn’t say anything since they were too…uh, taken aback by the amount of information I guess..”

“Chan, I don’t think you were thinking straight—“

He interrupts you with a sad pout, sticking out his bottom lip. “Why are you talking about my parents and not this guitar?” This man is being ridiculous, as stubborn as a child.

“IT’S A GUITAR! RELAX ABOUT IT!”

“I GOT THIS FOR YOU!” Chan raises his voice slightly to catch you off guard and then sighs deeply. “Felix said you hadn’t played the guitar in years, but you were pretty good at it. So I wanted to surprise you, don’t you like it?”

“Chan, you what?” Your voice grows smaller and smaller until it’s only as audible as a whisper. “You didn’t have to do that- of course I like it! But- it’s just..” You stop talking completely to take a closer look at the acoustic guitar in his hands. It’s made of a reddish-brown type of timber with a satin finish, you can tell that the wood will age well through time and create more depth and warmth to the sound of the instrument. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a guitar, but it’s been way too long since you’ve touched one.

“I- I forgot how to play it after a while..”

Chan throws a wolffish wink in your direction as a reassurance that there wouldn’t be a problem with that. “I can show you how to if you like.”

“Moving too fast, moon is lighting up her skin,” Chan cuts you off softly with his angelic voice, and your heart is stuck in your throat, refraining you from barking back with anything. “She’s falling, doesn’t even know it yet. Heart is beating loud but she doesn’t want it to stop.”

Is he seriously trying to do this by singing a song? A fucking One Direction’s song?

“We’re only getting older, baby. And I’ve been thinking about it lately,” Chan’s voice slowly bleeds into the chorus, and you feel as if all of your pride and dignity have been thrown out the window because you’re completely frozen in your spot when he sits down next to you. Chan smiles throughout the lyrics seeing how you’re looking at him like he’s the only person left in the entire Milky Way, a strange warm sensation bubbling up in his stomach. “Does it ever drive you crazy, just how fast the night changes?”

“Everything that you’ve ever dreamt of, disappearing when you wake up,” Chan’s heart does an entirety of an acrobatic routine when he locks his eyes with yours. Seemingly to keep himself together, but the insides just feel like he’s being hung upside down on a tree with blood rushing to his face. This just has to be the cheesiest, sappiest, not-necessarily-scream-CB97 way to confess to someone but fuck it, he still needs to shoot his shot. “But there’s not to be afraid of. Even when the night changes…”

He pauses for a few seconds, “..it will never change me and you..” and finishes off smoothly, embarrassment growing more evident on his cheeks.

What did you tell yourself months ago, Y/N? Aren’t you tired of trying? How are you so sure that he wouldn’t do it again? Haven’t you had enough?

Yeah, you’d never know. And yes, you’ve had enough.

Well, to hell with that.

That’s when everything clicks in place. After all this time, after everything you’ve been through, after everything he’s done, you can finally see why you’ve been chasing him relentlessly knowing damn well that your heart is still in his hands, one wrong move and you’ll be utterly destroyed forever. Nobody compares to Chan. Nobody makes you smile like he does, nobody makes you laugh like he does and nobody makes you cry as hard as he does. It’s almost a truth that’s universally acknowledged that everything has been leading up to this specific moment, your heartbeat comes in sync, and two completely different worlds collide with each other.

You almost lost yourself all the way to him, but in him, you also found the way back to you. And how do you argue with the algorithm of falling for someone when the entire universe has conspired for the both of you to be together since forever?

“Uhm…so what-“

Before he can even finish his sentence, you abruptly grab a fistful of his hoodie and yank him towards you. Chan physically feels shivers run up his spine when your hand automatically interlocks with his, still fits like a glove. You kiss him with such desperation and tenderness it makes him feel as if you’ve been wandering this celestial sphere by yourself in the past century, yet he’s always had your heart. And he lets himself trust you with his in your hands once again because this is only the beginning. The paths ahead might not always be peaches and cream, but if it’s with you, he’s willing to stick with you ‘till the very end of it.

You’re the first one to break the kiss, managing to talk between short breaths. “Sorry, you were saying?”

Chan shakes his head and laughs breathlessly, wearing a dimpled on his face, “Nothing, I was just wondering if you’d take me back after everything.”

“After everything?” You merely chuckle when tiny bits of confusion in his orbs soon disintegrate into stardust, floating through the galaxy for eons. “A million times over, I will still choose you and let you rip my heart in half if that’s what it takes for me to stay by your side.”

Chan feels like he’s floating in midair, head all fuzzy and moonstruck. “Actually though…can I kiss you again?”

“And then nap time?” You let out a big yawn, making Chan toss his head back, laughing wholeheartedly.

“And then nap time,” he agrees, gingerly pulling you in by the waist while trying to stop himself from picturing the smirk on BamBam’s face when he opens the door in the morning.

Likewise, BamBam indeed opens the door to the dressing room early in the morning to make a move on his cleanup duty before Chan’s parents have a cardiac arrest. His smirks can’t possibly grow any wider when he sees you cuddle closely to Chan, palms resting on his chest while his hands are locked on your waistline. And BamBam sighs in relief because thank goodness he did shoot his shot.

[flowerfan2]

Private Time

I’ve been reading and writing (and living with) so much angst lately, I decided to indulge in some silly, sexy funtimes with a fandom I haven’t visited in a while.  Enjoy.

Klaine, 2k, A03.

Summary:  Living with his grad student roommates in quarantine, private time is hard to come by...

Blaine is generally very happy living in the somewhat rickety four-bedroom house he shares with three other grad students.  It’s not too far from school, it’s got a workable washer and dryer in the basement, and the kitchen was renovated sometime in the past twenty years so it’s perfectly adequate for making whatever quick meals he manages to scrounge together after class.

But boy, are the walls thin.

This hasn’t been a problem until recently, when COVID-19 struck.  School has gone online, but unlike the undergrads, Blaine and his roommates have a lease and all of them decided to endure the quarantine here in Somerville, Massachusetts rather than go home.  According to Kurt, Somerville may not be where he wants to end up, but it’s far better than the Midwest town he grew up in and he has no desire to weather the quarantine back in Lima.

Thanks to the quarantine, Blaine has learned this and many more facts about his flatmates  – and yes, they have all taken to calling it a flat, after an evening which started out with teasing Sam about how he likes to talk with a fake British accent turned into one of the most carefree nights Blaine has had in a long time.  Apparently all it took was a few bottles of cheap wine and a defrosted cheesecake from Star Market to loosen them all up.

 “We’re proper mates, now,” Sam had announced, waving his arms and nearly knocking over a lamp in the process.  By the time they had all wandered off to bed, Blaine had learned that Kurt’s favorite singer was Lady Gaga, that Rachel had taken a year off from school to film a television pilot, and that Sam played the guitar rather well, as long as it was country music.

 Blaine has liked Sam since they met playing intramural soccer in the fall.  So when Sam mentioned last month that they had a spare bedroom, Blaine quickly took him up on the offer.  Blaine’s previous apartment was lonely and smelled like something had died in the ceiling, so it was really a no brainer.

 What had caught Blaine by wonderful, wonderful surprise, however, was that Kurt Hummel was one of Sam’s roommates.  Blaine had seen Kurt perform in a production of Macbeth back in October, and had been mesmerized by the man’s performance.  It hadn’t even occurred to him that Kurt was a regular grad student just like he was, not until Sam gave him the tour of the house and Kurt waved to him from the kitchen where he was gossiping with Rachel over skinny margaritas.

 With just a smile and a nod and an agreement to take his turn putting out the trash, Blaine gained three roommates, including the guy he had been crushing on for months.  Not bad for a Wednesday.

 Much to Blaine’s dismay, simply moving into the house didn’t result in any quality time with Kurt. Between school and performances Kurt was hardly ever home, and Blaine’s schedule studying history and music theory was hardly better.  Since the stay at home order was put in place, however, it’s a whole new world. Now the four of them can hardly get away from each other.

 For the first two weeks of their enforced togetherness, everyone was on their best behavior, and the drama of it all gave them a shared sense of adventure.  Kurt sewed them all homemade masks, Blaine carefully organized grocery trips to minimize time in the stores, Sam tried to get them to adopt home fitness routines, and Rachel kept them apprised of the most interesting celebrity bits to watch on You Tube.

 But they are entering into week three of the quarantine, and the novelty is wearing off.  For one thing, Rachel has been getting more and more demanding about household details (she is constantly editing the chore wheel and claiming someone else did it), and while Kurt generally has acted as peacemaker when confronted with Rachel’s whims, even he seems to be getting tired of it. Sam hasn’t done his laundry at all since they got locked in, and Blaine is running out of hair gel.  Kurt has taken to cleaning the fridge so often that Rachel accused him of stealing cleaning supplies and rubber gloves from health care workers.

 They are all becoming short-tempered and irritable.  Blaine even catches himself snapping at Kurt, which is the last thing he wants to do. He’s worried that by the time the quarantine lifts, Kurt will never want to speak to him again, let alone date him.

 Blaine has a few tried and true strategies for when he gets like this, but none of them are working. Sam insists on running with him every time he goes out, and his well intentioned chatter prevents Blaine from finding any escape.  He can’t let off steam by boxing, because his gym is closed.  And as for the things he really knows would do the trick, especially after an afternoon of watching Kurt do ballet stretches in yoga pants, well… the walls of their apartment are very, very thin.

 Blaine knows this because Sam apparently feels no shame in indulging in his own solo activities. It’s easy to hear him, even from across the hall.  Given that Blaine’s bedroom shares a wall with Kurt’s, there’s no way Blaine’s going to risk Kurt hearing anything of the sort from Blaine’s room.

 Towards the end of the third week, Rachel calls a roommate meeting.  Blaine has just finished an endless zoom call with his research supervisor, and he feels like his eyes are going to pop out of his head if he doesn’t get his contacts out soon.  But Rachel insists, so they all gather in the sitting room, Sam and Blaine on the lumpy brown couch, and Kurt sitting on the edge of an armchair, looking to Blaine like he could be posing in a fashion magazine.

 “Thank you for coming,” Rachel begins, as if they had any real choice in the matter.  She launches into an overview of their past few roommate meetings, and brings up an excel spreadsheet on her computer, on which she has apparently made further edits to the chore wheel.

 Blaine tries not to be distracted by the way the asymmetrical neckline of Kurt’s cashmere sweater drapes over his collarbone when he leans forward to look at Rachel’s chart.

 “So I decided on Saturdays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays,” Rachel says, looking around the room for approval.   Blaine realizes he has lost the plot completely, but luckily he’s not the only one.

 “Wait, what?”  Sam asks.  Kurt has found a nail file somewhere and isn’t paying much attention either, but his mouth quirks up at little at Sam’s question, so he’s probably glad Sam is taking the blame for this one too.

 Rachel lets out a long suffering sigh, and places an Amazon box on the table.  “As I said, I haven’t been able to use the practice rooms for weeks now, and my vocal production is suffering.  I need to be able to focus properly on allowing my voice to soar over my accompaniment at its expected volume, without having to censor myself.”

 Sam still looks confused, and Rachel glares at him.  “I need to listen to loud music, and sing loudly, ok?  So I got these for all of us.”

 Sam frowns.  “I don’t mind if you sing, Rach.”

 Rachel’s hands clench at her sides.  “It’s not about you, it’s about me.”  Kurt coughs not indiscreetly into his hand, but Blaine doesn’t quite catch what he says. “I need you all to wear these, for an hour, three times a week.  I’ve clearly marked this as private time on our schedule, from 11 to midnight, Saturdays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays.”

 “But what if-“

 “Sam, let it go,” Kurt says. “We’re all missing <I>private time</I> these days.”  Kurt stands up and smooths his hands down his skin tight jeans.  “It’s fine with me, Rachel.”

 Blaine stands up too, and peers into the box, then takes out a set of headphones.  They are high end noise-cancelling models, clearly expensive, and probably quite effective.  “These are great, Rachel.  Thanks. But you didn’t have to do this. I’m sure we could have worked something out so you could practice.”

 Rachel glares at him now too, and tosses her hair over her shoulder.  “I <i>have</i> worked it out.  

Private time commences at eleven o’clock on each designated night.  I expect you all to go to your rooms, and wear the headsets.  It’s the least we can do to help preserve our collective mental health during this trying time.  Do I have your agreement?”

 They all agree, and Rachel smirks, satisfied.  Blaine chalks it up to roommate harmony and sets about seeing what he can make for dinner out of tortillas, one cucumber, and three apples (answer:  nothing,  they eat frozen pizza).

 Later that evening, he and Sam are on the couch trying to find something to watch on Netflix. Suddenly Sam leans over and slaps Blaine on the shoulder.

 “Ow, Sam, what was that for?”

 “I know why Rachel got the headphones for us,” Sam announces, grinning crazily,  “It’s so she can have a wank!”

 Blaine attributes Sam’s ongoing affinity for British slang to the amount of Sherlock fanfic he’s been reading lately, but now really isn’t the time to get into it.

He reflexively starts to deny it, but then he realizes with a flush of embarrassment that Sam is probably right.  Sam watches his face and his grin gets even bigger.

 “She’s kind of a genius, isn’t she?”  Sam grabs a set of headphones and bounds away up the stairs.

 “Sam,” Blaine calls out, wanting to remind him that it’s Monday, and therefore no private time is scheduled.  Not that it’s stopped Sam before.

 The next night Rachel reminds them all after dinner that private time will begin precisely at eleven o’clock.  After a group viewing of the first episode of Deadwater Fell (during which Blaine divided his attention between watching David Tennant, watching Kurt, and watching Kurt watch David Tennant), Rachel checks the time on her phone and orders them all upstairs.  At five minutes to eleven, she screams “put your headphones on,” and slams the door to her bedroom.

 Blaine thinks this is all fairly ridiculous, but he puts on the headphones anyway, and settles on his bed with his laptop.  He surfs around for a while, finding clips of some noteworthy Shakespeare productions (okay, fine, it’s Benedict Cumberbatch playing Hamlet), but then his mind starts to wander. Being cooped up with his roommates has been… constraining… for him too, and maybe he should go ahead and take advantage of the private time Rachel has arranged for them.

 Blaine makes himself more comfortable and slides a hand down his body, wondering if his roommates are doing the same.  Wondering, especially, if Kurt is doing the same.  He unzips his fly and takes himself in hand, letting out a long sigh at the sensation – and then freezing when he hears himself.  Blaine quickly realizes that as he got comfortable on the bed, the headphones had slipped off his ears.

 And if he can hear himself, what if Kurt can hear him too?

 Any interest in solo activities leaves him in a flash, and Blaine quickly zips himself up and plants his feet on the floor.  He makes sure the headphones are properly situated on his ears, and spends the remaining twenty minutes of private time organizing his sock drawer.

 The next morning his roommates seem downright cheery, and Blaine starts to regret his nerves.  It would have been nice to get a little relief from the stress of quarantine, even at the risk of potential embarrassment. Maybe he just needs to be quieter, next time.

 Thursday night Blaine fluffs his pillows and arranges himself on the bed face down, so that any noise he makes will be muffled.  This turns out to be a brilliant idea, and he has quite a good time imagining that Kurt is underneath him, writhing and squirming and rutting against him, all long lines and warm skin.  It’s not a pillow stifling his cries, it’s Kurt’s wet mouth…

 When Blaine finally comes to, he feels a little guilty, but he’s more relaxed than he’s been in weeks. Maybe he’ll get through this quarantine after all.

[betweenthetimeandsound]

Three Minutes to Eternity: My ESC 250 (#140-131)

#140: Lordi -- Hard Rock Hallelujah (Finland 2006)

“You will see the jokers soon'll be the new kings!” I'm semi-convinced that if I heard this song when I was a child, I would've been so scared I would just hide (I also panicked at the cover of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, though that maybe because I didn't want to read such a long book). Watching it for the first time in 2020, I didn't mind it, though the monsters still puts me off. As much as I like to jam to this one, I can’t see myself listening to it over and over again. That said, one can’t take away from the sheer catharsis of this song, from the opening notes to how Lordi gleefully announces their arrival and thunders down Athens with the arockalypse. Whether it’s the first hard rock winner or the last schlager one, Lordi came, saw, and grabbed a first win for Finland after so many attempts, and made rock more popular in Eurovision for a few years. i You can’t resist yourself from headbanging to this one! Personal ranking: 3rd/37 Actual ranking: 1st/24 GF in Athens

#139: Natasha St-Pier -- Je n'ai que mon âme (France 2001)

“Mais je n'ai que mon âme pour te parler de moi, Oh, juste mon âme, mon âme et ma voix,” “But I only have my soul to talk to you about me. Oh, just my soul, my soul and my voice.” By the turn of the millenium, France switched back to contemporary ballads to represent them. While 1999 and 2000's entries didn't do well, their next two would be really strong songs amongst the weakest years ever, and that's why I appreciate France so much in the contest. Initially, I didn’t get it, because it sounded a bit derivative (not unlike what Celine Dion would sing). However, one thing which won me over was with the intro, which provided the base of a really great build. A soft intro leading to a lush instrumental, it shone above the crowd, and it turned from being "derivative" to being "gentle and sincere. Natasha delivers this with equal parts softness and grace, though the English parts did feel a bit out of place in the end. That might have cost it a (deserved) place on the podium, and France would have wait twenty more years for the next medal-placing. Personal ranking: 2nd/23 Actual ranking: 4th/23 in Copenhagen

#138: Lena -- Satellite (Germany 2010)

“I even painted my toenails for you I did it just the other day!"

Whenever you check the comments of any video on this song, you will note a bunch of angry Turkish people who insist MaNga should’ve won 2010. While I really love their song (and will end up later on the list), Satellite was a worthy winner. Along with its commercial success, Satellite is adorable because it is uptempo, sweet, and infectious. Lena acts like she’s having fun on stage and doesn’t even try to pretend. Her accent, which emerged as a result of her English teacher, adds to the charm and her overall innocence. It’s cute, which can turn off some people, but not me--I really embrace it. Also, Arilena Ara made a cover last year for Eurovision Home Concerts, which you should check out! It keeps the poppy vibe, but adds a funky edge to it. Personal ranking: 4th/39 Actual ranking: 1st/25 GF in Oslo

#137: Lazy Bums -- Shir Habatlanim (Israel 1987)

“עושה לי כוס קפה ומדליק לי הסיגריה יוצא אל המרפסת לפצח גרעינים הציפורים יורדות העציצים של המרפסת ומפזמות איתי את שיר הבטלנים” “I make myself a cup of coffee and light a cigarette I go out to the balcony to crack open some seeds The birds come down to the plants of the balcony And sing with me the bums’ song” The Culture Minister threatened to resign when Shir Habatlanim was chosen for the Israeli entry in 1987, but it adds to the charming element to this performance. After a decade in which the Israeli entries pranced around, this was something different, and the two actors really take on the role. The lyrics were a bit silly, but relatable with the bums not seeing the sun because of the buildings and doing random tasks while hanging out with the birds. The Lazy Song before the Lazy Song, I'm starting to think this is the "reality" on playing hooky, whereas "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" is the "expectations" part (and they are really high in the movie). The Blues Brothers-inspired performance ("We're coming to ya--"), combined with Kobi Oshrat's orchestration, makes this otherwise troll song into a comedic masterpiece. It's three minutes of fun and endearment, and I can't help but smile. Personal ranking: 4th/22 Actual ranking: 8th/22 in Brussels

#136: Antique -- (I Would) Die for You (Greece 2001)

"Κάθησα και σκέφτηκα Κι είδα ότι μ’ αγαπάς Μόνο εσύ, μόνο εσύ" "I sat down and thought Realised that you love me Only you, only you" Greece's first top-three placing in Eurovision is thanks to Helena Paparizou and guy whose name we do not know Nikos Panagiotidis, both who were based in Sweden at the time. They were well known for combining Greek instruments and dance beat; Opa Opa (written by Giorgios Alkaios, see #207 for his entry) is a really good example of this! (Thanks again, Nikos Terzis for composing this too) From the opening bouzouki, Die for You establishes a sense of cool; the pop production following it adds a sense of modernity that the 2001 class lacked for the most part. And compared to Je n'ai que mon ame (#139), the switch from Greek to English is absolutely natural. It feels like being in an exclusive club, filled with dim lighting and a very spacy ambience of it all--though the orange in Parken works as well. And despite being nineteen, Helena oozes cool in all the ways. From her sleek hair to her jumpsuit to how she moves, she makes the song her own, for what it's worth. I frequently find myself copying her handography, though sometimes my desk lamp blocks my left hand, making it feel a bit clumsy. Though I don't say this often, either Antique or Natasha should've won in 2001. Personal ranking: 1st/23 Actual ranking: 3rd/23 in Copenhagen Final impressions on 2001: DR tried to go big with 35,000, but everyone went to drink, and it felt like one hundred. The songs at hand tried hard to be cool, though in some places, we were better off in school. On their own, the strings in our hearts remain broke, though when the trophy did, our minds awoke. Despite the ambitions, the contest would make people leave the room. Thankfully, it was better than that of 2002! :) (On another note, of all the years Italy didn't participate in the contest, 1999 and 2001 were the most irritating. Here, Elisa's Luce (tramonti a nord-est) won Sanremo, and it's a surrealistically beautiful indie song with cool lyrics (especially it was originally written in English, and had to be changed to Italian for the contest). Had they competed, I could see a top-five finish for them, and I could see this as an all-time favorite for me.)

#135: Katerine Duska -- Better Love (Greece 2019)

“Won’t you lean on me You can lean on me Let them look, don’t know, don’t care Go deep with me...” She's not Amy Winehouse, she's Katerine Duska! I had a love/hate relationship with this song during the 2019 season. On the one hand, it’s a really good song, with a lush production and sultry vocals from Katerine Duska. The lyrics, while simple, deals with the theme of love in an interesting way--no matter who you are, you deserve a love that suits you.

On the other hand, considering my grudge towards the 2018 contest, I was worried that this may do well and restart the Greek golden age. That feeling amplified when the rehearsals started, when Katerine and co. had this faerie queene aesthetic. It looked absolutely beautiful, with flowers and fantasy and whimsy. And most important, swords (the MV had sabres whereas the live performance had epees.)!

Of course it qualified, but it collapsed in the final and placed 21st in the end. Some people attributed to how "messy" the staging was, along with Katerine's vocals. In hindsight, I could see it with the former, but the latter remained firm, and she aced that high note.

But it was a good change for Greece, showing that they can do indie music as well as pop and ethno. And Katerine's non-Eurovision songs are fantastic; especially check out Autumn Again and Athenian Skies! Personal ranking: 4th/41 Actual ranking: 21st/26 GF in Tel Aviv

#134: Netta -- Toy (Israel 2018)

“Wonder Woman don’t you ever forget You’re divine and he’s about to regret...”

This has been a total phenomenon ever since its release. However, it’s also quite polarizing, with some people really bopping to this one whether it's on the radio or Tik-tok, and others getting repulsed by the chicken noises or the strong message it provided.

For me, it's Toy's "in-your-face' nature which makes it really special. From the first listen, there's the element of surprise with Netta's looping (the MV intro on Spotify >>> regular studio intro). It then builds until Netta announces herself as a "beautiful creature" and that she wasn't going to be bullied by others. While the songwriters definitely used the "Me Too" movement as a vehicle for the song, it's Netta's influence, along with the Mizrahi instrumentation in the chorus, which packs a punch. Without those chicken noises, Toy would fall flat.

The staging had to be worked on several times, but the final result captured the song's kookiness in every way. From the fake looper to the backing dancer's choreography, the following three minutes is an explosion of fun (though some of the energy died on stage on first viewing).

In short, Netta deserved to win, and those who suggest otherwise is just mean.

Personal ranking: 5th/43 Actual ranking: 1st/26 GF in Lisbon

#133: Mariza Koch -- Panagia Mou, Panagia Mou (Greece 1976)

“Κι αν δείτε ερείπια γκρεμισμένα, όι-όι μάνα μ', Δεν θα 'ναι απ' άλλες, απ' άλλες εποχές, Από ναπάλμ θα 'ναι καμένα, όι-όι μάνα μ'…"

“And if you see shattered ruins, oh oh my Mother, It's not from other, from other eras It is burnt by napalm, oh oh my Mother...”

In their second appearance at the Eurovision Song Contest, Greece sends this politically-charged song to criticize the invasion of Cyprus two years before. The Greek military junta at the time wanted to unite the island with mainland Greece, which led to a coup. As a result, the Turkish government invaded Cyprus, and declared the non-recognized Republic of Northern Cyprus. This status remains to this day, which has hindered Turkey's admission to the European Union.

(Interestingly enough, Turkey broadcast this contest despite not participating, and censored the Greek song to replace it with a patriotic song. Haha)

Dark context aside, it ties into the folk tradition during that time, but adds a Greek touch to it with the bouzouki. Combined with thoughtful yet tragic lyrics, it stands out as a darker yet deeper tone from the 1976 contest. Mariza also conveys this with her clear, yet harsh vocals pinpoint the horrors of what was going on. Also, the orchestration adds to the grandeur of this with its lush strings.

Personal ranking: 3rd/18 Actual ranking: 11th/18 in Den Haag

#132: Chocolate, Menta, Mastik -- Emor Shalom (Israel 1976)

בוא, בוא, בוא עוד היום”, אני עוד כאן אז בוא אמור שלום, אמור שלום

“Come, come, come today, I'm still here so come say hello Say hello..”

From one heavily politically charged song to a slightly less so, haha! Emor Shalom is s very playful and cute song, the three girls charm their potential lover (or diplomatic) with their voices and dance moves.

The hidden political context comes from "shalom"--is it hello, or is it peace? When the song was performed, Israel had been independent for thirty years, but their geopolitical relationships were not good with their neighbors. So the three girls, who sung for the military, were not only hoping for a lover, but also for peace.

The song itself incorporates some elements disco with trumpets, which got me into it in the first place. I'm not entirely sure about how the latter works--they are fine, but it does feel a bit cartoonish. While the lyrics are a bit simple, they still add to it.

Personal ranking: 2nd/18 Actual ranking: 6th/18 in Den Haag

#131: Sonja Lumme -- Eläköön elämä (Finland 1985)

“Kaupungissa on yö, puistoon kanssasi jäin Sä seisot edessäin täynnä toivoa” “It’s night in the city, I stayed in the park with you You’re standing in front me full of hope” Top ten anime opening themes, part two!

From the intro until the end, I love how Eläköön elämä progresses. It not only has a sound which matches with music trends (along with those mullets, but it's the 1980s so we can move on about this...), but also has a joie-de-vivre in terms of the lyrics. I've heard about it being connected to the Cold War; considering it was before glasnost, I'd imagine one of the themes here was to enjoy every moment before the world ends.

Ossi Runne's orchestration mixes the punchy pop-rock with some really good strings and brass. An awesome instrumentation and hopeful lyrics, when put together, you’ve got one of Finland’s best ever entries.

Personal ranking: 1st/19 Actual ranking: 9th/19 in Gothenburg

Final impressions on 1985: While Sweden first hosted in 1975, the production ten years later shows their capabilities in putting on a good show. From the graphics to the stage to Lilli's hosting, it's a totally fun experience. The songs were a bit weaker than it, though there were enough gems to keep the mood buzzing. Plus, there were several good orchestral moments there (especially #193) which made it all the better!

[singeramg]

Finding Forever: Chapter 4

Pairing: Henry Cavill/ OFC

Rating: E OR M however you want to say it 

Warnings (: Dom! Henry, Sub OFC, Smut, Some Angst, Oral, female receiving, Unprotected sex, (Don’t be silly, wrap your willies people) 

A/n: Sooooo it wasn’t that slow of a burn. I think four chapters is good enough to start the smut lol

Catch up: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 

In honor of Henry being a cheeky boy this morning, here is this gif and the story...

The ride back to the hotel was quiet as I regretted my hasty words. I knew I had effectively ensured Henry would dislike me if not right out hate me. Not to mention Mia would always feel some type of way about me if she and Henry decided to give it a go. I knew she wouldn’t outright cut me out for him because we had been through too much together for that to happen, but that didn’t mean I wanted my friend to look at me differently because of this. All because of my stupid inability to keep my mouth shut and my emotions down. 

I trudged up to my hotel room, flinging my shoes off and adding the chain to my room door. I headed to my bathroom, shuddering at the reflection in the mirror. Her ponytail was loose, her eyes red, eye shadow smudged and  looking downright tired. In short I looked a mess. 

I turned on my shower, grateful for the warmth of it falling on my skin. I stayed in far too long contemplating on how I would face the two of them tomorrow. I could fain a hangover but that wouldn’t save me from Mia and honestly she would figure it out that I was faking it. Frustrated, I cut off the shower and got out, pulling on a pair of grey spandex type shorts that had outgrown being appropriate to be worn in public and comfortable enough to sleep in, along with a thin black cami that had the words “killin’ it” written on the front in white. Pulling a black almost floor length on, I had made the decision to deal with everything  head-on tomorrow. As much as it would kill me, I was going to have to apologize to Henry. I told or at the very best implied something that he asked me about in confidence. I knew how that felt, as I had former friends other than Mia that I thought I could trust and they turned to use those secrets against me. I was a shitty person to do that to him. I cut on the TV in my bedroom for more background noise than anything and went out to the front of my suite to grab a bottle of water. 

I hadn’t bothered to cut on any lights as this was a quick trip over to the desk where I had been leaving my bottled drinks.

 “You know this hotel should really invest in better chains for their doors. I was able to slide that out of its place with a comb.”

 Is familiar accented voice said and I yelped, jumping a foot in the air, before trying to find a weapon in the darkness. The lamp near a red and gold accent chair cut on to reveal Henry sitting there looking as calm as ever, however I was the one freaking out. 

 “Holy shit Henry, you almost gave me a damn heart attack! What in the fuck? How did you get in here?”

 He gave a small smirk, holding up a rattail comb with the metal end. 

 “I told you with a comb. More specifically Mia brought me this comb and her copy of your room key, when I called to tell her I couldn’t reach you.”

 My eyes narrowed at the mention of Mia and while I winced on the inside, the outside showed no change. I crossed my arms across my chest, jutting a hip out.

 “You do realize there is thing called knocking. How it works is you tap from the outside, I hear it on the inside and decide if I want to let you in.”

He chuckled.

 “I knocked. You didn’t answer so I got to thinking maybe I could wait for you to come back to your room. I realized you were in the shower so I waited. I thought I was going to have to rescue you considering how long you were in there.”

 “It’s my room I can stay in the shower as long as I want. Now what I want is for you to leave.”

 I pointed a thumb toward the door. His response was to lean forward, elbows on his knees as he clasped his hands together in front of him. I noticed the worry lines across his forehead.

 “You make everything so hard.” 

 “The only thing hard about this is you still sitting here.”

 He stood abruptly crossing the room quickly with his long legs. He was in front of me before I could retreat away. 

 “No. What is hard is that you are so fucking hard headed. I came to talk to you, sort this whole thing out like rational adults.”

 “Look Henry. I apologize for outing you to Mia like I did. I know that was messed up...”

 “Stop. Where did you get this idea that I was interested in Mia?”

 I stepped backwards again trying to put more distance from being able to smell his cologne. He wouldn’t allow it as he stepped forward again.

“What are you talking about? Henry you literally asked me if she was single.”

He began to laugh, affronted,  I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

“What is so funny?”

 “Aura darling, there has been a major misunderstanding. I am not interested in Mia, not now, not ever.”

 I somehow let a breath of relief that I didn’t know I was holding. Embarrassed, I didn't want to deal with this right now.

“Whaa... But... I can’t do this with you tonight. Get out.”

I shook my head and moving backwards. Henry looked at me, incredulous  then his eyes narrowed slightly and seemingly got darker. 

 “No I don’t think I will.”

 “It wasn’t a request Henry...”

 “Not a request... Do you want to know the true reason I asked that question about Mia?”

 He moved closer and this time I didn’t move. Something about his gaze kept me pinned in place. I didn’t say anything either which also wasn’t like me when I was pissed, as evidenced by my little club outburst earlier. I nodded my head, noticing that my throat was now dry.

Close enough to me now, Henry reaches up brushing some of the wayward hair away from my face pushing it back behind my ear. The action screamed gentle and soft, but his eyes said otherwise. 

“I prefer if you use your words when you address me.” He prompted. Intimated by the tone he spoke in coupled with his actions I looked at him and spoke.

 “Yes go ahead and tell me.” Fake bravado won out in the end.

 “I asked about Mia because Jay, who is one of cameramen for the movie really wants to get to know her. While Mia is certainly pretty, she is not who I am interested in.”

 “So you are interested in someone just not here. Oh my bad, hopefully I didn’t mess anything with whoever you actually like.” 

 I couldn’t tamper down on the attitude, trying to keep a wall up between us to help save face. I began to walk away, but Henry only let me get but so far, then he ended up catching me by the waist. His grip was sure, but not painful. 

 “I am interested in someone who is currently acting like a brat because she can’t take a hint. I tried the subtle thing with you Aura because I didn’t want to scare you off. You however are stubborn.”

 His right hand came up to my face, grasping my chin to make me stare him directly in the eyes. My hazel crossing with his blue and I couldn’t look away.

  “Let me be clear, the only one I have an interest in is you.”

 White noise rang out in my ears as I felt my breath hitch in my throat again. As the tension in the room was about to boil over.

“Me?”

 “Yes you Aura.” 

 Slowly I moved in and he moved in until our lips met, the kiss ignited a fire in me as I pressed myself flush against him and both of his hands drifted down the side of my body landing on my hips and making sure I could feel how he had hardened against my stomach. I slid my hands up his torso, linking around his neck. I was breathless by the time he pulled back, a smug look on his face, lips redder than normal from our kissing. 

 “I have been wanting to do that since I met you. It was not a disappointment.”

 “Is that all you have been wanting to do since you met me?”

 I questioned with a mischievous grin. I’m response he raised an eyebrow.

 “Oh no actually I have been thinking about just how good you are going to look after you’ve cum 5 times...”

 That was it. I felt a rush of wetness leave my body as I tried to clench my thighs together. Henry noticed and his gaze was intense as he didn’t break eye contact, which could be unnerving but it wasn’t as much as it should have been for me. I untied the black robe in the front and let it fall to the floor, well aware of my lack of bra and tight shorts that clung to me. 

 “You talk a good game, but can you back it up Cavill?”

 I turned and walked toward the bedroom. I didn’t even check to make sure he was following because I knew he would be. I walked in turning the dimmer on in the room so it was a soft glow, but not pitch black like hotel rooms could be. I guess my stop to mess with the dimmer was all the time Henry needed to catch up to me because he was in the door quicker than I had only taken 4 steps, grabbing my hips again, stopping my forward motion. 

 “It’s sir to you Aura and where do you think you are you going?” He questions.

 “Umm to the bed?”

 “Did I tell you to get in the bed yet?” He questioned his hands grazing under the edge of my shirt, drawing small circles with his fingers. His breath warm against my right ear. 

 “No but I’d imagine if we are going to do this, we need to be in the bed.”  I snarked to him. All that earned me was a sharp slap on my ass. I yelped in surprise as I heard Henry give a chuckle.

 “Ouch. That hurt.” 

 “ You’ve earned a lot more than that one, but if you’re a good girl for me. I’ll suspend your punishment.”

 I bit my bottom lip in anticipation.

 “What if want to be bad?”

He laughed again.

 “Trust me baby girl. You will want to be a good girl for me.” 

 With those words, I turned around to face him again, and instead of standing there so I could kiss him as planned he walked over to the bed. Sitting on the edge of it, he looked at me and beckoned me closer. I smirked.

 “You just want to be in control so bad don’t you.”

 “And you want to give it up so bad. I sensed it in you from the moment we met. So why don’t you let me Aura?” I find myself nodding.

 “Give me a safe word.”

 “Raggamuffin?”

 I say with a smirk. He returns it back then agrees. 

Henry reaches up, gasping my neck lightly again, then down into a kiss. His hands slid down until the reach the hem of my shirt, then breaking the kiss, pulling it over my head. Bare from the waist up, Henry makes my face feel warm, as my body is under his direct gaze. He strips my shorts and panties off in one smooth pull. He breathes in deeply, as I  try to anticipate what he will do next, my legs still trembling slightly as his hands run from the back of my knees to my ass. 

 “You smell absolutely delicious.”

 I began unbuttoning his shirt, wanting nothing more than to see it on the floor. He helped me get it off then began kissing my stomach, his lips drifting lower and lower around my bikini lines, but never where I wanted his lips to go.

 “Your legs are shaking darling. I think you should sit on the best seat in the house.” 

 He slaps my ass again, but this time not as hard. I moved backward, as Henry moves backward resting his head on the pillow, then beckoning me up there to him. I did as he asked, crawling up his body, feeling his jeans brush against my bare skin, then the thick, dark chest hair.The sensation dynamic played a role in the power imbalance, and I was loving it. I was headed for the button on his jeans, when he spoke.

 “The seat I want you on is up here.”

 I had to be dripping by now, he kisses me one more time and I pulled myself to hover above his full lips. His hands glide up my thighs, then  he kisses both of them stupidly close to my sex but doesn’t touch it. I could feel his breath against me and it frustrated me further, but his strength kept me held up. 

“Please Henry”

 I whispered. He squeezes my thighs just enough to sting and make me whimper. 

“ What did I tell you to call me?” 

 My fuzzy mind struggled to come up with the answer but I soon found it.

 “Sir please. Please touch me.”

 Finally his tongue sticks out and touches me. I lower slightly and he actually allowed me to move. I gripped the grey hotel headboard as best as I could. He started drawing what seemed to be random patterns. I wanted to grind down against his face and take my pleasure but he was having none of that. He stopped for a second.

 “Let’s play a game. Let’s see if you can guess the letters I am spelling out. You get them right, I’ll keep going. Get them wrong and I’ll stop.”

 I whimpered not wanting him to stop. He chuckled, the vibrations traveling directly into my core. Then he went back but this time it took every ounce of my collective concentration to even guess at the first letter.

 “Umm...shit.... it’s a H.”

 He didn’t respond but kept moving. When he swirled his tongue around my clit in an unrecognizable letter my mind went blank until he suddenly stopped. 

 “What is the letter baby?”

 “I..I  don’t know.”

 “ You ready for the game to be over already?” He asked me with a chuckle, which sent the vibration directly into my center. I bit my lips and then whispering quickly,

 “No please don’t stop.”

 He does the pattern again.

“W!”

 “Good girl”

 He moves on me getting the remaining letters of D, and C. His initials. He thought I wouldn’t notice but I did... somehow. He moved on with me guessing the spelling for Daddy and Sir correctly.

He finally took mercy and sucked the bud he had been torturing for the better part of 20 minutes. Crying and convulsing I came, head tossed backward. 

Sensitive, I tried to pull away, but actually wrapped his hands around the outside of my thighs, pulling me fully seated, forcing me to accept his tongue inside of my body until sensitivity became pleasure again.

 “Fuck Fuck Fuck!”

 He let go of one thigh to move his hand up where he rubbed my clit again combined with licking and sucking until I came again.

Coming down from the high, I gasped for my breath, finally being allowed to move off of his face, I dropped to the bed next to him, feeling my eyes begin to drop closed after a few moments but Henry was not with that. He climbs over me, pulling me into a kiss, waiting until I was engaged again before pulling off to get out of the bed. Just as I was about to ask him where he was going but he only took two steps back, sliding his jeans down, finally revealing himself to me. The pictures online of him in tailored trousers had done him no justice and that was saying something. 

 “See something you like?”

 “I’m waiting to find out if I like it or not.”

 I couldn’t turn the snark off if I wanted to. I think I was testing him on purpose. At the look he shot me I knew he was going to make me regret that.

 “Keep testing my patience and you won’t. Turn over.”

 I tried to comply but the second Henry thought I was too slow he moved me quicker, positioning me on my hands and knees. 

 “Do you remember what I told you at the beginning of this?” He asked caressing the soft flesh of my ass.

 “Umm...”

“About you being a good girl.”

 “You would suspend my punishment.” His fingers grazed the strip between my legs, lustful again already. 

 “Now do you think you’ve been good?” 

 I shook my head, my bold nature leaving just as quickly as it had come. Then I felt his large hand come down on my ass again. I yelped.

 “Henry!” He did it again.

 “You keep adding to your punishment and we haven’t even started it yet.”

 “What was that for?”

 “You keep breaking my rules.”

 “What rules?”

 I was confused slightly, he rubbed my ass.

 “You should be using your voice to answer my questions AND you address me as Sir.”

 “What if I don’t want to call you sir?”

 “You don’t have a choice. Either you do it or you safeword out and not to be a shitty person love but if you can’t handle calling me sir, you certainly can’t handle what else I have in mind. You may want to tap out now.”

 I turned around, looking over my shoulder.

 “You think I’m a quitter...sir.”

I raised my eyebrow as I looked at Henry whose arms were crossed over his chest. He looked at me for a moment, resolved he motioned with his finger for me to face the opposite wall again.

 “Alright little miss “I’m not a quitter”, just don’t forget your safeword. Now I’ll be nice tonight, you get 10 total. 5 for not coming to talk to me when you have a problem and 5 for being a brat. Count them. You mess up, I start over.”

 And with that he hand came down across one cheek, the force matched the others he had given me.

 “One.”

 *SLAP*

 “Two”

 *SMACK*

He moved to an opposite cheek for three and also increased the force a little, but this time he rubbed the spot, kneading the flesh of my cheeks.

 “Four, Five”

They were in quick succession and harder. I thought this would be a turn off but he was proving me wrong. 

 “Six!”

 I yelped, the sting leading to wetness gathering between my legs even more. 

 “Seven!” 

 Henry noticed when my arousal starts to run on my legs, and I thought I heard him groan before sliding his fingers through it. I can feel myself struggling to stay in the position he put me in. 

 “Eight!” I cry, the pain having gave way to pleasure somewhere around smack 6.

 “N...nine.” 

*Smack*

 “Ten!!!”

I say as he gives me the hardest spank of the night followed by an immediate plunging of a finger into my core. 

 “You are so wet baby. I think you might have enjoyed your punishment too much.”

 His fingers moved in and out of me for a moment, but pulling away, leaving me whimpering. Henry immediately moves me onto my back, and yanks me to the edge of the bed, pulling my legs apart like a pair of pliers, they fan to either side of his hips. 

 “You took your punishment so well. I think it time for a reward.”

 He rubs his hardened cock in my folds collecting some of the wetness that gathered there, then slid into me. Henry was surprisingly gentle in this, taking his time, letting me adjust. His own eyes closed. From the angle we were in with him still standing I couldn’t reach him to touch him. 

“Damn Aura. You are tight been waiting for me all this time have you.”

 “Mmm...yes” I moan out, distracted the pulsating of his cock inside of me. He was thick and long, I could feel myself flutter around him. He held still for a moment and I got impatient, moving myself against him slightly as a signal to move.Henry seemed to have gotten the hint, because he began to rock, moving himself in and out slowly. Torturing me with his deliberate strokes. I tightened my legs around his hips, trying to move into him. He took this as a challenge or at the very least motivation, tilting his chest down to mine, changing his angle just enough that he deepened, hitting a new spot that had not been reached before. 

Henry leans down, strong arms on either side of my face pressing his lips to my body, peppering small kisses across my chest and neck, my nails to his back. 

“Fuck, harder.”

 “Oh darling where are your manners?”

 He said teasingly,slowing down, drawing back until he was almost all the way out, leaving only the tip in then froze. I wiggled my hips, but Henry just moved one of his hands to my hips, stopping the movement. Frustrated, I groaned, looking down at where we were connected, but no movement. 

 “Please sir, please fuck me harder.”

 Not much warning before he slammed back in, taking my breath away when he did. A polar opposite to how this began, his strokes deep enough that I could feel them in my stomach. Me making whimpering sounds, my breasts moving with the force of him, and honestly it had moved me up the bed some from where I had been on the edge. I truly couldn’t tell if I was running from him or not, but it all for damn anyway because  It seemed the word sir activated the primal part of him, as he leaned back, sliding out, and having made just enough room for his knees to be on the bed, grabbed the back of my knees, folded me up like a pretzel and went back inside. 

I knew I had to be yelling, but I couldn’t tell you what I was saying, it was all hazy jibberish to me, all I could really feel was the pleasure rising inside of me, my walls clenching around him, building. He was giving me those deep strokes, you know the ones that made your eyes roll into the back of your head, your stomach tighten, and you feel the full weight of your partner body pressed against yours, his pelvic bone rubbing against your clit sinfully. I was damn close and I could feel it, Henry had been making noises of his own, manly grunts and hisses that added to my pleasure, knowing he was being satisfied by my body. 

At the feeling of my clenching, Henry, already close to my ear says

 “You hold it, you don’t get to cum until I tell you to.” 

 As one of his hands moves up the side of my body, until it latches onto my neck, tightening, adding just enough pressure that my orgasm doesn’t come, but instead keeps building and building as his hand tightens some more to the point of black spots invading my vision. I could tell he was close and I was about to cum regardless of any commands. 

 “Cum for me baby. Cum all over my hard cock.”

 He said, his words snapping and invisible tether inside of me that caused a shout and a physical body shaking as I came all over us my wetness covering his thighs. My orgasm lasting longer than it ever had, especially as Henry let’s go of my neck and his thrusts become faltered, his hips stutter and freeze as I feel him coat my insides with his seed. 

 “Aura!”

 Both of us breathe heavy as he stays inside of me for a moment, the with a groan, he slowly rolls out of me. Then after a beat of silence he gets up from the bed, my body too exhausted to move much. Henry comes back in a few moments with a small washcloth and  bottles of water. To which he hands me the water but not the towel, instead using it to wipe my center clean of his essence, tossing it aside and then demolished his water bottle. 

 “Thank You for taking care of me...sir.”

 I said attempting not to stumble of calling him sir when he wasn’t blowing my back out. Then  somehow I found the energy to move, moving from my position from laying sideways to lay the correct direction on the bed and get under the covers, sliding over once under to make room for Henry. He follows suit, getting into bed next to me, and in a surprising move pulls me into his arms. 

I hadn’t pegged him for an after-sex cuddl-er especially after the type of sex we just had where he seemed to be all hard edges and tough words. I half expected him to redress and leave, so when he didn’t I kept my surprise quiet and relaxed at his side, tossing a leg over his and my arm over his abs, head on chest, with his arm drawing random swirl patterns on my skin. Yawning, as my adrenaline came down, I snuggled into his warmth, content to lay with him for however long he would lay here. We didn’t talk, we didn’t need to, my breathing begins to even out as I fall asleep 

 “You know Aura, I could take care of you forever if you let me...”

 Henry says trailing off, I was too close to sleep to respond, letting his words send me into the land of satisfied and content sleep....

A/N:

Alright y'all tell me what you think! I had loads of fun writing this, maybe i’ll do some Headcannons....

[calumance]

LA Devotee - Part XV

Warnings: a hint of phone sex?, cussing, drinking

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Emily has a sleepover with Mikayla to keep herself occupied while Calum is on tour.

A/N: I’M SORRY I’M LATE, but since I’m still wake, IT’S STILL SATURDAY. I hope you all enjoy, this is one of my favorite  chapters. 🥰🥰💖💖(Feedback and requests are always welcomed!!! Want to be tagged? Let me know!)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV

Masterlist

        Trevor dropped Mikayla off at work on Friday morning, an overnight bag in tow. Just as quickly as she walked into the office I walked her out so she could drop her bag into my car. I looked at my keys as we walked together and I thought back to when I had asked Calum if Mikayla could stay the night. When I had asked him, he made it a point to act like I had asked him the most incredibly silly question he had ever heard. “I know how lonely that house can get, I don’t blame you for wanting her to come over,” were his exact words.

        After work, Mikayla followed me out to the parking garage, both pairs of heels clacking on the ground and echoing through the garage. I looked up as I unlocked Calum’s car, I wasn’t sure why, but there was something inside me that made me want to drive his car, maybe it was because it smelled like him. “Is it weird being in his house alone?” Mikayla asked me after we had been silent as I pulled out of the parking garage, and turned onto the main road.

        I shrugged and concentrated on the road in front of me. “Kind of,” My fingers wrapped around the steering wheel as I thought about how much I actually miss him. “It’s weird not waking up next to him, or falling asleep next to him. I guess I got too used to it.” I ran my left hand through my hair as I leaned my elbow against the window. “Plus, Duke is there, so I’m not completely alone.” Duke was good at keeping me company, he always curled up in my lap, or slept in the bend of my knees. However, as much as I loved Duke’s cuddles, they would never compare to the feeling as Calum’s arms wrapped around my waist and his chest pressed to my back.

        Mikayla smiled, “I’ve been trying to convince Trevor of getting a dog since we moved six months ago, but he won’t go for it. I’m excited to meet Duke. He’s so cute from the pictures you’ve shown me.” I smiled and turned the radio up a little louder as I drove towards the house. Mikayla and I danced to the radio, our favorite song playing as I drove up the hill. We hadn’t had a girls night since shortly after I moved here.

My first day in the office she was the first one to say anything to me. “I mean, I sit across from you, so I might as well introduce myself. My name is Mikayla, and you must be Emily. They’ve been talking about you coming here for a while now.” That day she had worn a floral top that was mostly black, and had silky sleeves. She was wearing black leggings, and a pair of tiger print heels. I had been so jealous of her fashion sense, but the jealousy was short lived when she took me shopping and rebuilt my entire wardrobe. Her long brown hair had a slight curl at the end, and her blue eyes were accented by some mascara, her thin lips tinted by her pale pink lipstick. I reached my hand towards her with a smile and told her it was nice to meet her. We hung out for the first time that weekend, and I guess it’s history after that.

I shifted the car into park as I pulled into the driveway. Mikayla reached behind her and grabbed her overnight bag out of the backseat. We walked into the house, Duke greeting us with a wagging tail. Mikayla squealed in joy and picked him up as I set Calum’s car keys in the bowl by the door. Duke slobbered all over Mikayla’s face as I made my way through the kitchen and to the back door to slide it open, allowing Duke to go in and out as he pleased. Mikayla set him back on the ground and he ran outside. “What sounds good for dinner?” I asked as I turned to the fridge, pulling out two drinks.

Mikayla hummed as she took one of the drinks, “Maybe we should order some Chinese food, like old times.” She smiled and twisted her hand around the cap to open the drink. “We can order Chinese food and get all tipsy and just have a good night.” The first night we ever had an adult sleepover was at her house, a couple weeks after we met. Trevor had gone on a business trip and Mikayla wanted someone to keep her company. She invited me over, and we ordered a large amount of Chinese food, and drank a large amount of wine. The main thing I remember from that day was Trevor waking me up on the couch laughing because it took him an hour to wake me up. A smiled stretched across my face, I liked the idea of repeating that night, maybe not exactly, but something close to it. I tilted my bottle forward and clinked with hers before we both washed back our drinks.

After Mikayla hung up the phone, placing the food order, I went through Calum’s bedroom for a speaker. He has to have one somewhere, right? As if he read my mind, my phone started ringing, his picture showing up causing me to smile from ear to ear. “Hey, love.” I sat on the end of the bed and listened for his voice.

“Hey, sunshine. How’s your sleepover going?” There were a couple voices behind him, sounding like he was hanging out with the guys.

I ran my hand through my hair and looked around the bedroom. “Funny you ask that. I’m trying to find a Bluetooth speaker so we can listen to music. I was looking in the bedroom, but I can’t find one.”

“There should be one in my music room. Check on the desk. What are you and Mikayla going to do tonight?” Michael started to yell behind Calum and Calum sighed, “Michael says hi.”

As I exited the bedroom, I let out a chuckle. “Tell him I say hi back.” I crossed the threshold into Calum’s music room and flicked on the light switch. “We ordered some Chinese food. Back when we first became friends, we had this night where we ordered some Chinese food and got all wine drunk, so we’re thinking about having a night like that.” I eyed the desk and found the Bose speaker sitting on his desk. “Oh, I found a Bose speaker, is it okay if I use it for tonight? I’ll put it back tomorrow.”

Calum chuckled, “Yeah, you can use it, sunshine. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but that’s your house too. That’s what happens when you move in with someone.”

I grabbed the speaker off the desk and used my elbow to switch off the light as I made my way back down the hallway. “I know, but it’s still your stuff.” I close my eyes thinking about how my ex would react when I would move his things. Nathan would always get mad for moving things without asking, or using something that he ‘worked so hard for,’ even though we had a shared bank account. Sure, he worked hard for it, but so did I. As I set the speaker on the counter, Mikayla came out of the bathroom, wearing sweatpants, an oversized t-shirt, and her hair bundled on the top of her head in a messy bun. Our normal girl’s night outfit.

“Oh, tell Calum I say hi!” Mikayla bounced up and down, clapping her hands.

Calum sighed, “My stuff is your stuff too, Emily, that’s what happens when you’re in a relationship, and when you move into someone’s home.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” After nodding to Mikayla, I dropped my head and turned away from her. “That’s not how my last relationship was, thank you, Calum.” I turned and looked at Mikayla behind me who was begging for me to tell him hell for her. “Mikayla says hi.” She pulled her elbow back in satisfaction and walked into the living room.

“Tell her hi back.” He chuckled, but then collected himself to appropriately display his seriousness through the phone, “I’m sorry that your last relationship was so terrible, but, that’s not how our relationship is going to be, okay?” He was quiet. My heart raced as I thought about telling him how much I loved him, but the doorbell interrupted that thought. “I’m going to let you go, sunshine. Have a fun sleepover, call me in the morning.”

My heart skipped a beat at his tone. “Did I do something wrong?” I ran my hand across the back of my neck as I walked down the hallway towards the bedroom.

“No, sunshine, I just wish I was there. You have fun with Mikayla, okay?” Calum’s voice was soft, and suddenly, I felt like crying. “Call me in the morning, love.”

“Yeah, I’ll call you in the morning. Have a good night, Cal.” It was quiet for a few seconds before he said his goodbye and hung up. I looked at my phone for another second before sliding it into my pocket and going into the bedroom to put on an outfit that matched Mikayla’s: a pair of sweatpants and one of Calum’s t-shirts that was even big on him.

We sat on the couch, the Chinese food sprawled across the entirety of the coffee table. Music playing softly in the background, for now. We washed back our third drink as another episode of The Office played on the TV. As soon as we finished eating, and the alcohol began to course through our veins, we turned the speaker as loud as we could. Dancing in the living room, using our bottles as fake microphones. My head started spinning from the alcohol and I sat on the couch, placing my hand on my forehead. My breath was labored from the dancing, proving just how unfit I actually am. Mikayla threw herself on the couch next to me with a laugh. I sighed and shook my head. “I don’t think Calum loves me back.” The alcohol had completely dissolved my filter now.

Mikayla looked at me, her chest heaving from the dancing as well. “What makes you think he doesn’t love you back?” Her eyebrows were pulled together.

My head was spinning. I wasn’t even sure why I thought that, there was really no reason to think that. I let out a laugh and Mikayla looked at me more confused than before. “I don’t actually know. It’s like there’s a tiny voice inside my head trying to convince me that he doesn’t love me, let alone like me. As hard as I try to shut the voice out, it won’t shut up.”

Mikayla readjusted her head and she took a deep breath. “It’s called trauma. That voice, I mean. Your last relationship was shitty, we all know that, but you gotta stop letting it come back and take control over everything you do.” She closed her eyes but then reopened them and turned her head towards me. “I know you told me how badly you want to tell him in person, but maybe you should tell him anyway?”

I couldn’t even bring myself to look at her, so just shook my head. “No, I want to wait until we see each other in person. Look, I don’t want to talk about this right now, I don’t know why I brought it up, can we keep dancing and drinking? I want to stop over thinking everything.” Mikayla cracked open another drink for me and turned the music back on. After the tenth drink, I don’t quite remember what else happened.

When I woke up, my head was absolutely pounding, but I felt a cold sensation on my cheek. My eyes opened and I was on the floor of the living room, my cheek pressed firmly against the hard wood floor. After blinking a few times, I pushed myself up so my back was against the couch and Mikayla snored slightly when I accidently nudged her arm which was hanging over the edge of the couch. My hands connected with my face as I fought the headache surging through my brain. My phone sat on the table and I reached forward, it was noon and Calum had called me three times, left me a voice message, and sent me a text. I checked the text message first. “I thought you’d wake up before me, I guess not. We have an interview at 2 and a performance after that, should be available for a Face Time date tonight, though. Miss you. Xx Cal.” Based off the time, he was probably performing right now. Next, I listened to the voicemail. “Hey, sugar. Hope you had a fun night, guess it must’ve been fun if you still haven’t called me. We’re about to step into the interview. Text me when you wake up.” My eyes shut tightly, he didn’t sound super thrilled that I hadn’t called him yet.

I mumbled to myself for being so stupid as I opened my messaging app and typed out my message. “Fuck, Calum. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me last night, I don’t even remember passing out, I hope you’re not mad at me. Call me when your performance is over, good luck, my love!” I dropped my phone to my side and ran my hands down my face. All I could think of doing was jumping into the pool and hoping it would dissolve my hangover. I pushed myself off the ground, grabbing my phone at the same time. When I opened the door, Duke ran off to the grass patch. My phone bounced as I tossed it onto a chair near the pool. I discarded my shirt and sweatpants and jumped into the pool. The cool sensation of water washed over my body, making the headache subside slightly.

I floated at the top of the water for a while until the muffled sound of my phone ringing made its way to my ears. My arms frantically flailed through the water and to the edge so I could push myself out of the pool. I knew it was Calum before I saw him on the screen. The only thing that surprised me was that it wasn’t an audio call, it was a Face Time call. As I answered, I ran the t-shirt I was wearing down my face. Calum came into view, he was wearing sunglasses and, from what I could tell, he was in a car. His face lit up when he saw me. “Good afternoon, sunshine. Did you have fun last night?” He ran a ring clad finger over his lips, suppressing a laugh.

My hand ran backwards through my hair smoothing it down more than it was from the water. “I don’t even remember if I had a good time. I feel like such an idiot, I’m so sorry I didn’t call you this morning. Do you hate me?” I laughed, even though the question was completely serious.

He shook his head, then pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head. “I could never hate you. I’m glad you had fun, my love. I, too, swim to get rid of a hangover, it’s actually the best cure. You know, for being completely hungover, you look absolutely gorgeous.” He looked at the camera matter-of-factly.

My cheeks flushed a soft pink and I laughed, covering my face. “Thanks. I slept on the floor last night, in the living room. Like, I woke up on the floor., my face was smooshed against the ground. Mikayla is still passed out on the couch. I don’t even know what happened.” I rubbed my eyes and laughed looking at Calum. I just wanted to reach through the phone and touch him. I missed the feeling of his skin against mine, whether it was because his chest was pressed against mine, or if because my fingertips were gently grazing across his cheek.

He reached up and pushed his sunglasses down, back to his nose. “Can’t even tell you how many mornings I’ve had like that. Are we still on for a Face Time date tonight?” I nodded and sat on the edge of the pool with my feet dangling in the water. “Great. I’ll call you at, like, nine my time.” I counted on my fingers to figure out what time that would be here, then nodded. Just then, the car stopped, a door opened and there was screaming. “I have to go, sunshine.” He kissed his finger, then pressed that finger to the camera, and then hung up. I tossed my phone back on the chair, and then tossed myself back into the pool.

Mikayla finally woke up around two, and showered before Trevor came and picked her up around three. He wasn’t surprised in the least that she was incredibly hungover. Honestly, I don’t think anyone was, except for me. Once Mikayla left I texted Calum, “How should I dress for our Face Time date?” As I waited for Calum to text me back, I downed an entire glass of water. My phone dinged and I read his message, breathing heavily from downing the entire glass of water. “However you’d like, sunshine. I probably won’t be wearing anything, if we’re being honest.” I choked on the air and sat my phone down, holding my hand to my chest. “Oh Jesus, Calum, are you trying to kill me?” I said to myself after gasping for air.

I finished microwaving some of the Chinese food we had left over and plopped myself on the couch, wearing a pair of boy shorts and a tank top. My phone started to ring and my heart skipped a beat. My fingers slowly wrapped around my phone wondering if he actually wasn’t wearing anything. I set my food on the coffee table and answered the call. When he came into view. I could only see from his chest up, but he definitely wasn’t wearing a shirt. I licked my lips at the thought of him actually being nude, but smiled and greeted him. “Hey, handsome.”

He blushed slightly and smiled hard enough that the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes appeared. “Hello, my love. What are you up to?” He leaned back, the lights of the television lighting up his face. His phone must’ve been propped against something, because I could see his entire torso as he leaned back.

“Just microwaved some left over Chinese food, watching The Office, because that’s literally all I ever do, if you didn’t know that. What are you watching?” I propped my phone up on the coffee table and sat back with my container in my hand.

“I don’t even know, to be honest. It was on when I turned on the TV. Mostly turned it on for background noise.” He looked at the phone with a coy smirk. “I wasn’t lying about what I said earlier.” He arms moved back and forth as if he was rubbing his hands along his legs.

I stopped chewing, and looked at the phone, raising an eyebrow. “What are you trying to get at, Hood?”

“You,” He said while laughing. “I’m trying to get at you, Williams.” He mocked me by using my last name, and suddenly my heart started to race.

My legs dropped off the couch and I bent over to pick up my phone. I suddenly felt self-conscious, something that I rarely felt in front of Calum. “I’ve never done anything like that – this. What should I do?”

He picked up his phone as well and ran his hand through his hair. “Find a place that you’re comfortable. Do you feel more comfortable in the living room or in the bedroom?” I bit my bottom lip and looked around the completely empty house. No matter the fact that it was empty, I most definitely felt more comfortable in the bedroom. Without responding, I pushed myself off the couch and walked down the hallway. After I shut the door, I sat on the bed, my back pressed against the headboard. There must’ve been a look on my face, because Calum sighed, but in a forgiving way, “Sunshine, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, I do. I’ve just never done anything like this. I might just need a little help.” I ran my hand through my hair and bit my bottom lip, feeling my cheeks flush red.

“I can help you, if you want that is.” His pupils dilated, and I nodded, feeling my stomach flutter. He started off slow, his voice was soft, never once making me feel uncomfortable. As the phone call continued on, everything picked up pace. I reveled in his hushed voice, and his face when his eyes closed and his head leaned back and his Adam’s Apple bounced as he swallowed a groan. He was everything I’ve ever wanted; this was everything I’ve ever wanted.

We were silent for a minute until Calum smiled and cleared his throat. “I thought about you all day today.”

I sat up and grabbed his sweatshirt and pulled it over my head. “Did you?” I smirked and grabbed my phone as I headed out the bedroom door, back into the living room. “What did you think about?”

He hummed and laid his head back on the white pillows I was becoming accustomed to. “How beautiful you are, how much I wish I was there, how much I miss you.” His eyes started to close, the exhaustion starting to take over.

I plopped myself onto the couch and smiled at him. “I miss you too, so much. I wish you were here, I think that would’ve been better if you were here.” I raised an eyebrow and he chuckled, his eyes still closed. “Get some sleep, my love. I’ll leave the call going for a little while. I’ll hang up in an hour or so.” He nodded and placed the phone on the empty side of his bed and pulled the comforter up to his chin. Without another word, he was fast asleep.

************

Tag list: @notinthesameguey​ @viiirg0​ @thinkofmehlgh​ @another-lonely-heart​ @limer-encia​ @itsmytimetoodream​

[mst3kproject]

Uninvited

Uninvited was directed by Greydon Clark of Angels Revenge and stars Clu Gulager, who was in San Francisco International but definitely not in The Touch of Satan.  Oh, and it’s a movie about a mutant bloodthirsty kitty-cat.

Yes, you did just read that sentence.  See, while our feline antagonist may look like an adorable fluffy orange baby, he has a deadly secret.  When angry or in pain, he coughs up a horrible hairball that becomes Hulk Kitty.  Hulk Kitty grows to the size of a mountain lion, kills everybody that annoyed it, and then shrinks down again to crawl back inside Normal Kitty, whom I shall call Creamsicle.

We begin with Creamsicle and Hulk Kitty escaping from a Secret Lab, hidden in plain sight in a building in the middle of Fort Lauderdale.  A day or so later, a couple of bathing-suited bimbos on Spring Break are pounced upon by some rich creep named Walter, who invites them along on a cruise on his yacht in the hopes of getting laid.  The girl in turn invite along a couple of douchebags they met at a marina, and pick up Creamsicle when they find him in a garbage can and fall in love with him.  Walter, meanwhile, brings along his buddy Mike, as the two of them are using their ‘cruise’ as cover for escaping to a tax haven in the Cayman Islands.

Does this sound like a bunch of annoying assholes stuck on a boat with a murdering monster?  Sure does. Would you be surprised if I told you there’s a storm coming and the guy steering the boat is drunk?  Of course you wouldn’t.  How about if I told you Hulk Kitty is venomous?  That seems like a little much, doesn’t it?  Well, that’s what this whole movie is like.  It takes everything you can imagine sucking in a film and turns it up to eleven.

Take the characters… please.  None of them have any personality or subtlety. Mike is nothing but an Evil Businessman and Walter is a horny Evil Businessman.  The girls are empty-headed blow-up dolls, equally willing to doff their bikinis for Walter or for these assholes they met on the beach.  The guys are boring jerks who would definitely be wearing crocs and Oakley sunglasses if those had been commonly available in 1988.  The two who are destined to survive are Hedgeworth, the douches’ nerd friend, and Rachel, the yacht captain, neither of whom we even meet until at least twenty minutes into the movie.  Maybe this is to preserve the surprise of who lives and who dies but it just comes across as bad writing.  Honestly the character I come closest to identifying with is Mike, who’s trapped on the boat with all these fucking idiots and it’s making him want to shoot somebody.

Take the situation.  Walter actually wants to leave the kids behind while he leaves the country because they’ll be in the way, but the yacht’s entire crew quits because he over-works and insults them, and the bimbos volunteer themselves and the boys as replacements.  Only slightly less forced is the bit where he wants the cat sent back to shore but keeps it because he figures if he gives in, the bimbos are more likely to sleep with him later. And oh, yes, people do go to investigate What That Strange Noise in The Dark was.  They do stop to lick each other’s tonsils while there’s a monster running around.  They do destroy the radio so nobody can call for help.  It’s like a checklist of ways to get killed in a monster movie.

Take the acting.  George Kennedy mostly looks like he’s on the verge of falling asleep and nobody else much bothers.  They go through the motions with all the enthusiasm of people who know they’re in a dirt-cheap movie about a killer kitty cat… except for Shari Shattuck as the blonder of the two bimbos (her name is Suzanne and her friend is Bobbie, if you care – I didn’t) who really goes all out during her supposed nervous breakdown in the final half-hour.  Boy, she sucks.  It’s like she can act with her facial expressions or her voice, but not both at the same time.

Take the editing.  We cut from a scene in the dark on Walter’s yacht, anticipating the party that’s going to happen later, to a scene in broad daylight where a gas station attendant is giving Creamsicle a saucer of milk.  Is this the next day?  Is it the same evening?  Have we gone back in time?  It can’t be Australia because nobody has an accent.  What happened to the yacht party?  Only a few minutes later do we learn that we actually skipped the party even though the events so far seemed to be building to it.  Later, we cut from everybody just hanging out on the boat by day feeling like it’s the end of the world, to the middle of the storm at night, with no build-up at all.  The plot moves in such fits and starts it almost gives you whiplash.

How about the special effects?  When Creamsicle disgorges Hulk Kitty, he does so in the form of a hand puppet that barfs up an even sillier hand puppet.  There’s a scene in which the driver of a truck is attacked by this from the back seat, and you can clearly see the arm sticking out of the back of the puppet.  The puppeteer is wearing a blue shirt.  When Rachel and Hedgeworth are in the lifeboat in the storm, they’re obviously on a dark soundstage while somebody sprays them with water from a single nozzle. The boat is being shaken and the camera is rocking, but it’s clear they’re nowhere near the ocean.  The nearest thing to an effect that works is when people swell up and explode as a result of the Hulk Kitty venom.  This is fake blood being pumped into latex appliances, but at least it’s nice and gross.

Then there are, of course, the million little details that add amusement value to a movie like this.  Like the guy’s wet socks drooping off his feet when he dives into the ocean to try to save a friend.  Like the fact that Walter turns on the bubbles before having a co-conspirator drowned in his hot tub.  The fact that a truck crashing is represented by stock footage of a totally different truck. The fact that Creamsicle’s meowing is a recording of the same single meow played over and over.  This would have to be a Jonah episode because I don’t think earlier incarnations of the show could riff fast enough to keep up with this movie’s bullshit.

This all means that Uninvited is plenty of fun to watch, even when it’s stupid people doing stupid things.  There are long-ish scenes of bimbos kissing jerkwads but they don’t go to the point where it gets frustrating.  When stuff starts happening, it’s usually silly enough to make us giggle.  Characters die largely of their own stupidity, but we didn’t like them anyway so we’re not turned off by that.

The camera does leer at the women, but it does so mostly through the eyes of male characters we’re not supposed to like. Walter and the two douches from the Marina (their names are Corey and Lance, because of course they are) are a bunch of sexist assholes, and the long shots that pan over the women’s swimsuited bodies happen when they enter the room.  This almost allows Greydon Clark to get away with it – by using the shots to suggest that the men are jerks, he can objectify his cheesecake and claim to respect it, too.  I’m not at all fooled, but I’m kind of impressed by the thought he put into it.

When I reviewed The Corpse Grinders I spent some time discussing the question of why cats.  In that movie I figured it was because cats seem more likely to turn on us than dogs and because they were cheaper to work with.  In Uninvited there seems to be something similar going on.  We all suspect that inside our cats is a wild animal just waiting to get out – just watch your house pet stalk the squirrels on the other side of the kitchen window if you don’t believe me.  Creamsicle’s inner monster is a very literal one, and it takes the form of something much like the big, predatory jungle beasts that are so closely related to our pet kitties.  The fact that Creamsicle himself is a really, really adorable cat helps drive the point home.

If you squint, you can also find a pro-environmental message in Uninvited.  The scientists at the beginning of the movie weren’t even sure what it was they’d done to Creamsicle – they thought maybe he just had a tumor.  They had to discover Hulk Kitty the hard way.  Pumping crap into the environment and then being surprised when it comes back and poisons us is basically how we spent the entire twentieth century.  You can see Hulk Kitty as a metaphor for mercury-laden tuna, for refrigerants destroying the ozone layer, for killer bees, for pretty much whatever looming environmental disaster from the 80’s that you want.

Uninvited is ninety minutes long and in that entire time there is absolutely nothing good in it.  The opening credits music sucks and the whole movie just coasts downhill from there, but the journey, from Creamsicle’s supposedly exciting escape from the lab to the inevitable ‘it’s not over!’ denouement, is amusing enough as terrible movies go.  You can rent this one for three bucks on YouTube and unlike paying a dollar fifty for Hamlet, it’s totally worth it.

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

Six Baudelaires AU, Part Two {AO3} {Masterlist} {Part One}

Chapter Twenty-Six → in which Klaus impersonates a Doctor

“So,” Nick asked, sitting on the dirt, “What’s the plan?”

Lilac pulled on her ribbon and said, “Klaus and the girls found some discarded uniforms. Too small, ripped or torn, dirtied up, stuff like that.”

“Looks like they were left out here for trash collection.” Klaus said. “But we can use these! They don’t look too rough, we can easily use them as disguises.”

Nick narrowed his eyes. “Disguises?”

Sunny nodded enthusiastically. “Doctors!” she said.

“Klaus wants to dress up as doctors and sneak Violet out of the hospital.” Lilac said darkly. “I think there are so many ways that plan could go wrong.”

“So long as we really act well,” Klaus said, “People might just think we’re short doctors. Everyone always buys into Olaf’s disguises. So why can’t we give it a try?”

Nick flinched. “You want to be like him?”

“We’re just…” Klaus paused, glancing at Soli.

“Using everyone’s dumbassery to our advantage.” Solitude shrugged.

Nick smiled a little, ruffling Soli’s hair. “Fair.”

“Not fair.” Lilac said, putting a hand on her necklace. “What if we get caught?”

“Yeet Babbitt.” Solitude said.

“Bite.” Sunny said.

“Stab.” Klaus said.

“We don’t have weapons.” Lilac reminded him. “And they have Violet. Listen, I want to get her back, too-”

“So do you have a better plan?” Klaus asked.

Lilac paused. “The vents. They look big enough to crawl through comfortably. We could go through there…”

“And then we have to stick to the shadows.” Klaus said. “And we can’t get directions or find people who could help us. If we get caught, we have no excuses.”

“But it’ll be safer.”

“No, it’s just… safer in one way, more dangerous in another.”

“Don’t fight!” Solitude said, throwing her hands over her ears.

Klaus and Lilac stopped a moment. “I’m sorry, Solitude.” Lilac said. “But we’re not fighting.”

“We’re not mad at each other.” Klaus promised. “Just a little stressed.”

Nick hesitated. “In the doctor disguises… would we have to… to see them?”

“The troupe?” Klaus asked. Nick shut his eyes and nodded, scratching his arm, and his brother continued, “Possibly.”

Nick sighed. “Then I have a plan.”

“Nick plans are best plans.” Solitude beamed.

“Whazzit?” Sunny asked.

Nick bit his lip. “Klaus, you and Li go in as doctors. I’ll go through the vents with the girls.”

“What?” Lilac jumped.

“You two get the info you need from the staff, or, hell, even the dumbass singing Volunteers.” Nick said. “We’ll follow you in the vents, serve as backup if anything should happen. Once you find Violet, we’ll follow you out. We get back out here, hotwire a car, find our way somewhere… somewhere else.”

“No.” Lilac shook her head. “No, we’re not splitting up.”

“We won’t be.” Nick said. “I’ll be right with you the whole time. And it’ll be safer for the girls to not be walking around the hospital.”

Sunny shook her head. “Calil.” she said, which meant something like, “I’m staying with Lilac and Klaus. They might need a biter.”

“Um, no.” Lilac said.

Sunny gave her a glare, and then picked up a large coat. “Lif!” she said, which meant, “Someone wear this and strap me inside, I’ll fit!”

“I could do that.” Klaus said. “I’ve carried you in baby bjorns before.”

“I… I don’t know.” Lilac said. “I don’t want any of you getting hurt. I can’t…” she shut her eyes. “I can’t lose anyone else.”

Klaus threw his arm around her, and said, “Nothing’s going to happen. But none of us are just going to sit around while that creep has our Violet.”

Lilac bit her lip. “I just… when I think about her…”

“We won’t let anything happen to her.” Nick promised. “But we have to get her back, before they can get her away from us.”

Slowly, carefully, Lilac nodded. And then she said, “I… I just want you to know. I will do whatever it takes to make sure you all stay safe.”

Nick leaned forward and put a hand over hers, and Solitude grabbed the other and said, “Same for you.”

Lilac shut her eyes and then said, “If we’re going in disguise, can you… help me with something?”

“Of course.” Klaus nodded.

Lilac bit her lip. “We’re going to need to do something with my hair. The braids are… too recognizable.”

They were silent for a long moment, just staring at her. Then Nick scooted forwards and grabbed one of her braids. Slowly, he started to unravel it, and then Klaus took one, and then the toddlers wandered over and managed to reach up and unbraid one each. As they worked, Lilac pulled her ribbon from her dress, wrapping and unwrapping it around her palm.

When her siblings finally moved away, Lilac took her hair in her hands, shutting her eyes as she tried to figure out what to do. Then she took her hair and pulled it up, wrapping and piling until she had a messy bun. She tied it with her ribbon, making a bow, which she normally never did. She pushed a stray hair behind her ear and said, “How’s this look?”

Klaus leaned forwards and gave her a hug. And then the toddlers and Nick joined in, and they all sat together in silence for a long while.

As soon as Nick climbed into the vents, he realized he’d made a huge mistake.

Solitude was already crawling ahead of him, with Babbitt hopping ahead of her, peering through the grates to make sure they were ahead of their siblings. Nick slowly moved forwards, trying to keep from shaking, and then he whispered, “Soli?”

“Hmm?”

Nick took a deep breath. “These vents are a lot bigger than I thought, but, um… they’re still pretty cramped.”

Solitude shrugged. Of course it didn’t seem cramped to her, she was only a little over two feet tall.

“I was just… I’m not sure I like how small it is.”

Solitude peered over her shoulder, looking very confused. That made sense; she’d never known him to be claustrophobic. Not at all. She probably didn’t get it. “Oh?”

“So, I’m just saying… it should be big enough, but if I start to… to freak out, cause I already feel real nervous right now, can you just… find a safe place to let me out?”

Solitude paused, and then said, “Okay.”

“Thanks, Sol.”

Solitude gave him a bright smile. “No problem, bro!”

Babbitt hopped ahead, and Solitude followed. Nick took another breath, looking down the vent. He could see light this way. He could see the way out.

You’re going to be fine. You’re not there anymore. Lilac, Klaus and Sunny are out there.

And Violet needs you.

“Klaus, move faster.” Lilac hissed.

“I’m sorry, do you want to carry the baby?”

“Yes, actually. But there’s no time to switch, is there?”

The costumes were very rushed; Lilac was normally pretty good with them, having put together her own outfits a lot, as well as spending a lot of time with their Mother whenever she went over costume inventory for her performances, but they had been in quite the hurry and they were all very stressed.

Klaus’s large jacket had been tied around Sunny, making it seem like he was simply a bit overweight. They’d managed to scrape together a fake beard out of some more clothes from the trashbag, while Lilac had also put on a large lab coat, barely covering her long black dress. Her bun was holding, thankfully, and she’d also thrown on a surgical mask from a discarded box; they were apparently too small for regular doctors.

“Sunny,” Lilac whispered as they turned down a bend, “How you feeling?”

“Claustrophobic.” they could hear Sunny say from beneath the coat.

“We’ll be out soon.” Klaus said. “We just need to find where he’s keeping Violet.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s still at the hospital, because he wouldn’t leave without…” Lilac shut her eyes. “Without dealing with us. But she could be anywhere.”

That was when the intercom turned on.

“Attention! Attention!” came Count Olaf’s voice from the speaker; the Baudelaires were disgusted to hear he sounded joyous, giggling between every other word. “Today is a very important day in the history of Heimlich Hospital! In precisely one hour, a doctor here will perform the world’s first cranioectomy on a fourteen-year-old girl. We all hope this very dangerous operation is a complete success, and nothing goes wrong! That is all.”

They heard some more laughter, and then Esme’s voice. “Darling, you forgot to turn the microphone off.”

The intercom buzzed out, and Lilac said, her voice shaking, “Klaus, what’s a cranioectomy?”

Klaus narrowed his eyes. “Well, cranio means head, and ectomy is a medical term for removing something.”

Lilac paled. “Klaus…”

“Decap?” Sunny asked from beneath the coat, meaning something like, “Are they  going to cut off Violet’s head?”

“Son of a bitch…” Klaus muttered. He looked up towards the vents, hoping his other siblings were there, just being quiet in case someone came down the hall. “We’ve got to find her right away.”

“If she’s going in for surgery,” Lilac said, narrowing her eyes and trying to keep calm, “He’ll have her disguised as a patient.”

“And Hal said this hospital runs on paperwork.” Klaus said. “So she should be listed somewhere. Where would we find a patient list?”

Then they heard a chorus of song down the next hallway.

“We sing and sing all night and day, And then we sing some more. We sing to boys with broken bones And girls whose throats are sore!”

Lilac and Klaus shared a look, and then Klaus said, “I have an idea. Follow my lead.”

She nodded, and Klaus grabbed her hand and dragged her down the hall.

They could see the Volunteers Fighting Disease ducking into a room, and the two children waited outside a moment.

“Excuse me?” said a patient from inside. “I was supposed to get painkillers this morning, but the nurse never arrived.”

“Oh, silly, we don’t have any of those!” said the bearded man. “But we have balloons!”

Klaus and Lilac shared a skeptical look, and then they heard more singing as the Volunteers started to exit.

“Tra la le, fiddle dee dee, Hope you get well soon. Ho ho ho, hee hee hee, Have a heart-shaped balloon!”

The bearded man exited last, with a clipboard in hands. “Excuse me!” Klaus called, dropping into a thick british accent. “Sir!”

The bearded man turned around, still grinning. “Why, hello brother!”

“Hello… brother.” Klaus said. “My name is Dr Faustus, and this is my assistant…”

“Doctor Howser.” Lilac said in an austrailian accent, thinking very fast. “We’re going to perform surgery soon.”

“Yes,” Klaus said, “But we seem to have lost our patient list.”

“Which we need.” Lilac said. “Seeing as we need to find our patient before we can perform surgery.”

“And after surgery, our patient can get balloons.” Klaus added.

“Well,” the bearded man shrugged, “I hate reading the names of patients anyway. Here you go!”

“Thank you very much, brother.” Lilac said, taking the list.

“Love to be of service!” said the man, and then he marched off with the other Volunteers, still singing.

“Glad we don’t have to stick around them much longer.” Lilac muttered.

“Since when could you do an Austrailian accent?”

“You don’t know everything about me.” Lilac scanned the list. “Nick, Soli, we’re finding a storage closet to duck into. We need to figure out where our sister is.”

As soon as they shut the closet door, Klaus took off the lab coat and beard, and Lilac also tossed her coat aside before helping Klaus get Sunny to the floor. A vent broke open, and Nick jumped down, catching Solitude and Babbitt as they leapt after him.

“There are hundreds of names on this list, and it’s organized by ward, not name.” Lilac said, slamming it onto the table. “Everyone take a stack.”

“Do you think anyone will find us in here?” Nick asked nervously, looking around the cramped closet with a very uncomfortable expression.

Sunny glanced around the room, taking inventory of the boxes of rubber bands, cans of alphabet soup and low, dirty-looking sinks. “Pesh,” she shrugged, which meant, “Not until somebody needs rubber bands, alphabet soup, or clean hands.”

Nick took a stack of paper, passing one to Solitude, who didn’t know much about reading but knew what Violet’s name looked like. Lilac and Klaus each took a stack, but after several minutes of panicked flipping, they found nothing.

“She’s not here.” Lilac looked about ready to cry. “She’s not here.”

“Alias!” Solitude suggested.

“Soli’s right.” Nick said. “She could have a fake name.”

“That’d make sense.” Klaus said. “He’s using a fake name, why wouldn’t he use one for her?”

“But which name is hers?” Lilac asked.

Nick stared down at the paper. “Anagram.” he said.

“What?” Lilac said.

“Anagram!” he said. He grabbed a can of alphabet soup and tossed it to Sunny. “Sunny, bite!”

Sunny nodded and bit open the can, and Nick took it and ran to the sink, pouring it down the drain.

“Pietrisycamollaviadelrechiotemexity.” said Solitude, dumbfounded.

“Nick, sweetie,” Lilac said, very worriedly, “What are you doing?”

Nick reached into the sink, pulling out specific noodles. “Finding Violet.”

“How?” Klaus asked.

“He’s using an anagram, dumbass!” Nick said. “Al Funcoot = Anagram. Al Funcoot is… is his name with the letters mixed up. If he wanted to hide Violet, but didn’t want to forget where she was, he’d disguise her with an anagram.”

He dumped several noodles on the table and said, “These letters make up Violet’s name. We need to find a name that has these letters.”

“Which ward would she be in?” Klaus asked, immediately grabbing the papers.

“I have the surgical ward.” Lilac said, slamming a paper on the table. “If he’s disguising her cranioectomy as a surgery, he’d have her there, right?”

Klaus scanned the list of names, as Solitude and Sunny climbed onto a chair beside the table. “All of these names could be anagrams.”

Sunny picked up a V noodle and showed it to him.

“Sunny’s right,” Lilac said, “Ignore any names that don’t have a V.”

Klaus nodded, grabbing a pencil and crossing out names. “Alright,” he said, putting the paper back, “Help me try to spell these names.”

The Baudelaires mixed up the noodles, trying to find a name that matched. And after a few panicked minutes, Nick said, “Found her. Laura V Bleediotie.”

“Room 922 of the Surgical Ward.” Lilac read.

“We’ll need to get our doctors’ uniforms back on.” Klaus said. “Nick, Soli, back in the vents.”

Nick flinched a little, but nodded and picked up Solitude, who held out her hands for Babbitt. “Will you be okay?”

“Just follow us.” Lilac said. “Once we’ve got Violet, get out of the vents, we’ll get her out, and then we run.”

[aspiratinganxiety]

Christmas Dinner Part II

The much awaited final chapter of the Christmas dinner prompt! This is pure fluff with a delectable finish, if I do say so myself. The first part of this fic can be found here.  

I am so sorry that I had to repeatedly bump back the post date for this piece. You guys were so excited for it, and I swear that I got it to you as soon as I could. I’ve had a couple of weeks with a new job and some stuff that needed to get done around the house for the change in season. 

As always, I am grateful for your patience, and I would love to know what you think of my work!

(Side note: If you want to be added to a taglist, let me know. I don’t really have one yet, only a small one for Part II of the Ballerina/Dick fic. Not really sure if anyone is interested. Drop me an ask or message me if you’d like to be tagged in my work, and please specify if there are certain triggers that you’d like not to be tagged in.)

"Just make sure to act... ya’ know.... natural. Like we willingly spend time with one another romantically. Also please, please do not take Jason’s bait. He’s always an especially bitter pill during these parties. I don’t know why. It’s just like, one of his things. One of his many things. Oh! And remember-”

“Christ on a bicycle, Tim!” you interrupt him, patience completely evaporated. “I know how to be a girlfriend. I’ve been in more relationships for an amount of time that totals longer than your go with Stephanie. I know all the weird quirks with your family, even Jason. I understand what jokes not to make. All of my major etiquette lessons were from Alfred himself, and I don’t drink. Won’t make a habit of it in front of Bruce as an underage date to the only son functioning as a public figure for Wayne Enterprises. I get it. I know. Chill the fuck out and get off my back, or I’m going to punch you in your bird throat.” 

Usually, you do not threaten violence to anyone, especially people as kindhearted as Tim. Jesus God though, 45 minutes of his frantic dictation about your expected behaviors and you’re ready to strip off your bribery gown, roll out of the moving car buck-ass naked, and hoof it back to your apartment in the snow.

You have enough anxiety of your own, poured into a buh-jillion dollar dress that was made to push your boobs up to your chin and mold your butt into some kind of evergreen-colored peach. You can barely walk in your shoes, you’re wearing jewelry that cost more than your education, you are terrified that Damian might mistake your fake fur for the real thing and try to murder you on the spot, and the flower crown braided to your head is made of poky pine twigs, baby pine cones, and glittery sugared berries that are all working together to make your scalp itch worse than the week and a half you spent fighting a colony of lice in the fourth grade.

Fucking Lacey Whitaker and her four-feet of infested hair...  

In short, you want to die and you haven’t even tried to lie to Batman yet. 

“Wow.” Tim blinks, mouth scrunched into an unimpressed line. 

You sigh, hanging your head. “Tim, I am not going to punch you. That would be unkind and, frankly, a stupid move on my part.” You shake your head. “Not a fight I can win.” 

“I’m honestly less offended by the punching and more hung up on the bird throat comment.”

You cut your eyes at him, incredulous. “Yeah, well, that scarf isn’t exactly doing you favors.” 

He balks, jaw falling open. “Okay, first: you must be going blind. Francisco hand delivered all of the accent notes for my attire, including this scarf, so that I would match your dress. The one that you picked. The one that is on your body this very minute, if you would recall. The botanical embroidery is even consistent. So, yeah.” He motions to the fitted portion of the gown that can be seen hugging your thighs below the hem of your fluffy false fur coat. “Second observation: you are hella’ mean when you have The Anxiety, and I did not intend to fan that flame.” 

“Well, you’re hella’ bossy when you get nervous. Not a great combination to be crammed in a sports car together.”

“Noted,” he says, pulling the scarf looser.

The rest of the drive is somewhat tense as you both deeply question your life choices and rehearse the practiced cover story about first dates and whatnot. The sidewalk that leads to the main entrance of Wayne Manor is mercifully devoid of ice, having been flawlessly scraped and salted ahead of time. Alfred greets the two of you with a broad smile and ushers you into the bright, impeccably decorated foyer. 

“Happy Christmas,” he says, looking down at you in his warm, if distant, way. “Aren’t you a sight, Miss?” 

You acknowledge the compliment as Alfred hangs Tim’s coat and scarf, ducking your head in an awkward cross between a nod and a bow, frantically trying to peel the fur coat away from you before Damian gets a look at it. 

It is then that Tim sees the bodice of your dress for the first time. He stares, too struck by the full effect of the incredibly intricate, fitted garment to be ashamed that he is staring. The gown envelops you tightly from your bust to just below your hips, flowing seamlessly into rounded pool of silken fabric at the floor. Delicate lacework that echos the embroidery running throughout the piece act as wide, gossamer straps that tip over your shoulders and dive into what the cut of the dress would indicate to be a deep hemline baring a good portion of your back. With the high notes of red in your wreath, on your shoes, and staining your pretty, pretty lips, it’s hard for Tim to decide if the incredibly flattering silhouette created by your gown is more provocative than the contrasting, complimentary colors of forest green and holly-berry red that work to draw eyes up and down your body, then back up again... and down.... and up.

It is Alfred’s voice, chastising him, that breaks Tim out of his awed silence. “Take her coat and put your tongue back in your mouth immediately, Master Timothy.”

“Right!” he says, closing his eyes with a nod and stepping toward you. And again quietly, he almost sighs, “Right.” 

You hand him the fur, somewhat confused. Meeting his eye, you attempt to convey a look that asks whether or not he’s begun acting. After all, it’s only Alfred, and you both knew that there was zero hope of convincing the brilliant Englishman from the get. Tim was relying on the gentleman’s steadfast discretion to allow him this Christmas of peace from his brothers. 

Your initial reaction to Tim’s obvious admiration isn’t playful banter or a controlled taunt, as rehearsed. Rather, you are overwhelmingly flattered and suddenly battling an absolute tidal wave of uncharacteristic bashfulness. Heat burns in your cheeks from more than the rush of blood brought up by the warm house as you pass off your coat. Tim seems genuinely embarrassed too, as he avoids touching your hands and keeps his body far from you, using the full length of an outstretched arm to snag the outerwear. The left side of his face is crumpled in an apologetic wince, and the expression cuts clean through you. The bubble of your sheer delight implodes into a million little radiant drops as you try to decide whether or not the wince means he regrets having found you an attractive sight. 

That is not how boyfriends who enjoy your dress behave. Tim’s presenting a friend reaction, a friend who is afraid of having objectified or offended you. You steel yourself against the rush of anxiety that previously dimmed your flattered reaction and accept that you are gonna’ have to hem this tattered patchwork of a plan all by your lonesome if it’s going to be believable.

The Red Robin’s body language indicates that he’s all but thrown in the towel here at the door. 

And so, you take a deep breath, unfolding the neat, tidy little booklet of repressed feelings that you’ve been harboring in the pockets of your heart since you were 15, and you let yourself smile at him.

Really smile. The way you do when his back is turned. When his woefully dedicated or unimaginably funny words are in text. When you know it’s safe and no one will see the way that you smile for Tim.  

Your lips curve up a bit wry, teasing but encouraging. Teeth flash, a porcelain sign advertising your giddy joy and the silly sense of eagerness you allow yourself to feel, all-too-easily engaging the fantasy that this is a real date. Your shoulders half-shrug, and you catch the perfectly manicured nail of your ring finger between the knuckles of the opposite third and fourth fingers, running the corner of your thumbnail beneath it. The gesture is a nervous, fiddling one that communicates that damnably predominant shyness creeping up again.

You keep his eyes too, pegging him with an expression that communicates all of the softness and the intensity that you’ve been fighting to hide for so long. 

Tim goes stone still, like he’s been struck by lightening and his brain decided to exist stage left for intermission. He stares at you, staring at him like he’s answered some kind of prayer by grabbing your coat. 

For a brief, breathless moment, he feels like Gods must.

He’s dizzy with the sensation. It echos from his temples through his skull, then all the way down to every toe. A reverberation of unmitigated glory as delivered by the expression of someone he loves.

Nobody has ever looked at him that way. 

Not even right after he saves their life.

“Heavens,” Alfred mumbles behind him, a shared note of awe in his voice. 

Tim jerks, having completely forgotten where he was, why he’d be there, or that other humans who weren’t you existed at all.

The older gentleman relieves Tim of the coat, casting a prideful, knowing look over the much younger man. “I’ll just take that. Everyone is socializing in the parlor. Go on to the party, and I will call when the dinner preparations are in order.”

Tim, grateful that Alfred habitually motioned both of you toward the heavy mahogany doors that lead into the front sitting room, realizes that he somehow lost all memory of the manor’s blueprint. He also cannot recall the name of Damian’s dog.

“Well,” you say, waiting until Alfred bustles away before leaning toward him with a much more contained smile. You nod toward the parlor, a curl falling from its place pinned to your crown. 

“Uh,” Tim delays, closing his eyes and giving his head a quick shake. He dares to step closer to you and carefully brushes at the strand of loose hair. “Actually, do you think it would be okay if... um.... well, I was wondering if you’d like the plan being that this-” he motions between the two of you. “This was less for pretend and more for real?”

He speaks so quietly that you are straining to hear him. Beyond that, what you can make out of his words seem to imply a notion that has your heart hammering so hard that it isn’t leaving any room for your lungs to expand.

You get closer and whisper more distinctly. “More real how?”

“Like, real real.”

“You are not helping me understand, Tim,” you hiss, feeling rather vulnerable and unsure.

He grins haltingly, schooling his features into a gentler expression before balancing your chin on his thumb and forefinger. Tim tilts your face up, sure to keep gauging your reaction to his approach with inquisitive looks and plenty of pauses. Your eyes flutter shut after the tip of his nose presses into yours playfully, and he angles his head to brush past the bridge of your own nose and nuzzle into your cheek. 

Time stops again when you’re on the very cusp of kissing, lips together in a tickling brush with warm puffs of breath mingling between you. “Is this okay?” he asks, the press of his mouth to yours causing you to silently mirror the formation of his words. 

“Uh-huh,” you answer a susurrant hum, eyes still closed and oh so excited for a proper kiss.

“Ah, crap.” Jason’s voice booming out of the parlor behind you has both you and Tim jumping out of your skins. “That’s 60 bucks to Selina, guys! Turns out Timbo and Bo-peep are an item after all. They’re kissin’ in the foyer like animals! Catwoman takes the pot.”                                 

[timeagainreviews]

5 Moments when Doctor Who SUCKED

Imagine, if you will for a moment, that you are a brand new Doctor Who fan. You don’t even know to call yourself a Whovian yet. You get on a few facebook groups, see a few YouTube videos and discover, much to your dismay, that Doctor Who is, in fact, ruined now. Woe is you who set path down a trail leading toward mediocrity, and eventually utter devastation. I ask you to picture yourself in this manner because I want you to realise that only a person new to Doctor Who would believe such drivel. Everyone else saying this seems to have rose tinted glasses. The rest of us all know that Doctor Who is a show that sometimes requires forgiveness.

Am I saying Doctor Who is a bad show? Not hardly. Much like pizza, Doctor Who is still pretty good, even when it sucks. I would venture to say that one of the things I love most about Doctor Who is how campy and silly it can be at times. Why is it then that so many people are turning their backs on a show that’s filled their lives with so much joy? I’m really trying to avoid the "because sexism," argument. But I can’t help but feel like if you were to switch the Doctor to a male, nobody would be calling the show "ruined." Furthermore, how do you even ruin something that has gone through so many changes throughout the years? Oh right, it’s the Doctor Who fandom. Where the only language allowed is hyperbolic.

Perhaps these fake geeks are mad because making the Doctor a woman takes away their ability to call her a Mary Sue. Especially when you consider the same character once burst out of a golden birdcage and floated to the ground in a wave of Jesus energy. That might mean they’d have to retroactively apply the title to every incarnation. Could the Doctor ever escape the distinction? Unnaturally talented, charismatic, good at everything he does, brilliantly smart. Or is it that these attributes only belong to men? We can believe Tom Baker’s Doctor is capable of walking into a burning furnace to save K9, but hell no, a woman can’t be the Doctor.

You have to face it, Doctor Who has had some terrible moments. Yet we continue to tune in because we forgive it. We forgive when Doctor Who is bad because of the moments when Doctor Who is wonderful. Which I know is how you would describe an abusive partner, but I’m gonna let it slide for a television series. Especially this series. Because unlike that dickhead who never texts you back, Doctor Who can change. If you don’t believe me, please peruse this list of five instances when Doctor Who was terrible.

1. The John Nathan-Turner era

My God, how could I not start with this? While there is no denying there are some wonderful moments in JNT's Doctor Who, it's easily my least favourite era of Doctor Who. And as much as I personally love Colin Baker, his Doctor got the lion's share of poor scripts and erroneous costume choices. Never has a man more game for a role, been dealt such a bad hand.

Introducing a Doctor that was cowardly, and even violent toward his companion, was seen as a bridge too far. While I understand the desire to try something new with the character, this wasn't the way to go about it. While the show begins to pick up around the end of McCoy's tenure, it's evident that this is more the influence of studio notes and the hard work of script editor Andrew Cartmel. I can't think of anyone less suited for the job of showrunner.

It seems that for a good nine years, Doctor Who had a madman at the helm, and not in that cute Matt Smith way. Dressing in flamboyant Hawaiian shirts, Nathan-Turner brought that same brash sensibility to the program. From Six's garish costume, to question mark lapels, to Mel's entire timeline, it's a big fat mess with him sitting in the middle. Add to all of this, the allegations of him being a predatory creep toward young male fans, and it's a surprise the show ever survived. Oh wait, it didn't.

2. Racism

Ok, maybe I should have started with this. While Doctor Who has taken efforts to address its racist past, it still happened. They drop a racist slur in "The Celestial Toymaker." Even the term "celestial," is used to mean "Chinese," in describing the titular character played by the very white Michael Gough, fully clad in Oriental silks. This tradition follows into "The Talons of Weng-Chiang," when Li H'sen Chang was played by John Bennett.

It's an uncomfortable miracle that they didn't allow Patrick Troughton to play the role of the Second Doctor in brownface. Not to say his era escaped the odd bit of racism. While Toberman in "Tomb of the Cybermen," gets a few heroic moments, he also gets none of the lines. Cast as mute manservant, we learn nothing about the inner workings of a black man who died so that white people may live.

Later, the show used characters like Ace to talk about racism. She shows disgust with a "No Coloureds," sign hanging in the boarding house she's staying in. When the evil Morgaine had her under mind control, it was calling her friend Ling Tai "yellow," and "slant-eyed," that she was able to snap out of it. Real Ace would never say such things. But even with that groundwork laid, the new series still struggles. From the Doctor being weirdly dismissive toward black people, to it taking nearly 50 years for the first black TV companion, Doctor Who is still grappling with its race issues. Yet you all kept watching.

3. Ace gets molested

This one is a bit of a lesser known infraction as it takes place in the books after the show had already been cancelled. Kicking off the Virgin Media "New Adventures," is 1991's "Timewyrm: Genesys," by John Peel. In it, the Doctor and Ace travel to ancient Mesopotamia, where they meet King Gilgamesh. Gilgamesh wastes no time going full blown creep, groping Ace and pawing at her like he was Joe Biden.

The Doctor's reaction to this is to tell Ace to just go with it, and that it's part of the culture. While I agree that, yes, Gilgamesh may not be the sophisticated modern man that hugs a bro and supports equal pay, the Doctor's reaction is some straight up bullshit. If you're going to go there, maybe try saying something with it other than "Women are men's property." This could have been a great opportunity for the Doctor to puff up and use Gilgamesh's own primitive mindset against him. "How dare you touch my woman!" the very tiny Doctor could say to the very tall man. It would have been a funny visual, mixed with the Doctor utilising male privilege in a way that helps his companion.

This is really an objection I have against most of John Peel's work. He writes women in that "she boobed boobily," manner. Much to my dismay, Peel is one of the sole writers of the Dalek books, so any time you want to enjoy a tale involving our enemies from Skaro, you have to also partake in his brand of women. I'm talking women being described as buxom babes with shoulder length blonde hair, voices like baby goddesses, and legs up to their neck. While on the other hand, we get men described as having a hat and probably some other features. I may be embellishing, but seriously, John Peel, your women suck. Yet it still spawned a rather large book series.

4. Minuet in Hell

Doctor Who has never been known to nail accents. Tegan is vaguely Australian. And Peri must have moved around a lot due to the fact that nothing about her American accent sounds like a regional dialect. That doesn't mean that Robert Jezek's Foghorn Leghorn meets the KFC Colonel performance as " Brigham Elisha Dashwood III," is any less painful. But bad accents aside, the biggest demon in this Big Finish audio is one of Doctor Who's oldest enemies- sexism!

While I understand that Charlotte Pollard may be a fan favourite among many Big Finish listeners, her character will forever be tainted for me, and it's all due to this story. In it, Charlotte, or Charley, gets literally human trafficked. They kidnap her, force her to wear lingerie in a very creepy and misguided attempt to add some sexiness to the story and force her to wait on rich businessmen at a casino.

Now, allow me to clarify, it's not the human trafficking that taints her in my eyes. People who get trafficked are victims, obviously. What bothers me is that neither Gary Russell or Alan W Lear thought to give her a single line of dialogue where she protests. She doesn't even complain a little. Sure, the Doctor often gains intel by getting captured, but this is ridiculous. Add this to the weird disjointed story, and "Minuet in Hell," easily serves as one of the lowest points in not just Big Finish history, but Doctor Who as a whole.

5. Sexism

(Image by Billy Darswed)

It makes the most sense that this is the last one on the list. Because let's be honest, it's a huge problem in the fandom. A lot of early Doctor Who audios and books smack of moments when it feels as though the writers never considered the existence of female fans. Women are often utilised as a means to make the Doctor look better, and for the baddies to look scarier. Mind you, it's not always been a pantheon of swooners and screamers. We got the occasional Sarah Jane, Leela, and Ace.

Even the strong women are long-suffering. Liz Shaw (and her real-life actress Caroline John) left the role of companion over sexism. Beginning her time on Doctor Who as UNIT's top scientific advisor, she was demoted to assistant, holding beakers for the male Doctor who stole her job. The Fourth Doctor acted similarly when telling Romana her qualifications had nothing on real life experience. The same excuse has been used for decades to keep educated women out of the workforce. "Come back when you've got some experience, sweetheart."

While Rose Tyler was a refreshingly real character with a family and life of her own, it doesn't mean that she wasn't horribly mismanaged. In "The Stolen Earth," we see a darker, more serious version of her character. The Rose we used to know is now fully devoted toward one mission and one mission only- getting her man back. It's as though her personality disappears and is fully dependent on having the Doctor in her life. She rises to greatness so that she might bask in his once more. Maybe it's romantic, but maybe it's bad writing.

If you were to ask me who my favourite Doctor Who writers are, I'd have to say Robert Holmes is up there, and he wrote "Talons of Weng-Chiang," a serial full of yellowface. I'd also say Russell T Davies, who wrote the aforementioned "Stolen Earth," and also saw it in his wisdom to turn Shirley Henderson's "Ursula," into a blowjob dispensing garden brick. Or even Steven Moffat who believes the Statue of Liberty could sneak around New York, undetected, and that nobody notices his predilection toward dominatrix women in stiletto heels.

In my review for "The Battle of Ranskoor Av Kolos," I quipped that Chris Chibnall had not yet written a truly great episode of Doctor Who. However, since "Resolution," I can no longer say such a thing. I may even go as far as to say it's one of the best Dalek episodes ever. It would seem then that, given enough time, he could become a great showrunner. And it seems that given enough time, any writer, yourself included, could one day write the latest "worst episode ever."

Every new era has had its stumbles. Not every Doctor gets it correct 100% of the time. Capaldi decided he was the kind of Doctor to exit through the window, a trait we never saw again. The Fifth Doctor decided to sleep his way through his first adventure. The Eighth Doctor was "human on his mother's side." And Ten took so long to regenerate that I'm beginning to think it was old age, and not radiation that did him in. If you can look at all of these stupid, stupid moments and still say you love Doctor Who, then maybe, just maybe, you can get over a bit of spotty writing, like you always have. Or is it still the female Doctor thing? Oh...

[love-with-you-i-have-everything]

hearts will be glowing when loved ones are near ~ CSSS 2017 Gift

@onceuponaprincessworld, I had the pleasure of being your Secret Santa this year! I’ve really enjoyed chatting to you, and hope that you had an awesome time in Rome! Hope you’re having an awesome Christmas day and have an amazing New Years!

So you said you really liked fake dating AU’s and brother’s-best-friend fics, so I wrote a lovely little but of CS AU for you :) I included some of your favourite scenes and quotes in there too! Hope you enjoy it!!

hearts will be glowing when loved ones are near

Massive thank you to @once-uponacaptain and @happilyswanjones​ for reading this over for me and fixing my crazy silly mistakes! :)

Christmas was never a time of celebration for Emma Swan. Not for most of her life anyway. The first holiday she could remember was with her adoptive family when she was five. Flashes of presents and tinsel, food covering the table and family all around.

It was a month later that she’d caught a glimpse of the papers on the kitchen bench. A week later that her ‘parents’ had told her the news. She was going back into the system, back to foster care. It was a common thing, families having their own children and deciding the extra kid was too much hassle.

So back to foster homes she went. It had taken a while to adapt, from having a family to having no one. But she was forced to. And for another five years, Christmas turned into more of a chore than a holiday.

It was only a reminder. She’d see kids celebrating in the hallways at school, families walking around shopping malls. Displays in the centre windows, movies playing on television. Always including families or friends. Never lonely little girls with none of either.

In the sixth year, and the third foster home, Emma met David Nolan. He one of the kindest boys she’d ever met, even for a twelve-year-old. Soon, they’d become best friends. It had taken Emma a few months to really trust him, tell him the truth about her life.

Telling him had made it more real than ever.

She would always remember that day she told him, when all the emotions were disturbed and swelling. Emma had really let herself cry that day. Cry for her old family, for her real parents who had given her up when she was a baby. And David, much to his credit, sat there with her, patting her on the back like she’d always imagined a big brother would.

After that, they were closer than ever. Emma met his parents, and she spent less and less time with her foster family. Some kids at school started spreading rumours, as young kids tend to do. In some other world, Emma would have been bothered by it, but for once, she had a friend. A good friend. And that was the only thing in the world. And it wasn’t just David.

Because he, of course, had other friends. Most of them were annoying, and some of them came and went through the years, but Killian Jones was pretty consistent. He lived with his older brother, their parents having died when they were young, not that it was common knowledge. At first sight, he was, well, attractive. Emma couldn’t deny it. Even when she was twelve she remembered thinking it. He flirted and teased, but it didn’t take long before Emma realised the truth.

It was an act. He had walls the same way she did.

Her interest was subverted eventually. It was a shock at first, when David had told her his idea.

She knew his parents were some of the loveliest people around, but she never would have thought they would go this far. When he had told her his family wanted to adopt her, every emotion she could think of rushed through her. First it was disbelief and suspicion, then confusion, then complete and utter happiness. She had been about 15 years old, and she had just cried.

She was wanted, for the first time since she was an infant. And suddenly, Christmas seemed like a great idea again. The first time Emma experienced a Nolan Christmas she was a little overwhelmed. There was family everywhere, just like all the Hallmark cards said. Presents were exchanged, food was eaten, and everyone was happy. It was tradition, that no matter where you were, what the situation was, you came home for Christmas.

Every year.

This deal was easy enough while they were teenagers. But when they graduated, David going off to college and Emma going off to travel, it was a bit more of a trek to get back to snowy old Boston. Especially during the years that the weather couldn’t find it within itself to cooperate.

Like that year, when a snow storm had hit the New England area.

“The 17:30 flight into Boston, Massachusetts has been delayed until further notice. Please listen out for more updates. Thank you, and we apologise for the inconvenience.”

Emma wanted to punch the annoying woman speaking over the loudspeaker. After all the dramas and decisions about flying in this year…And now this is what she got. Making her way towards her boarding gate, Emma trudged through the long hallways, spotting people left, right, and centre huddled together around power points in the wall. Searching for one the furthest away from the crowds, she found one right near the large window that looked out onto the tarmac.

The snow was a problem. The entire runway was covered, the usual dark tar transformed into a blanket of crystal clear white. If she hadn’t been so irritated, Emma might have called it beautiful. Thumping her bags onto the floor, she leaned back against the glass and let herself slip down onto the floor, crossing her legs like a child sitting in a lesson at school.

She scrolled through her phone as she searched through her bag for a charger. There were no messages, no missed calls, nothing. Except for an email reminder that her gas bill needed paying. Nothing from the one person she’d wanted to hear from. Nothing at all.

“It’s quite the sight, isn’t it lass?” a voice said behind her. Without turning, she nodded slowly. Before long though, she let herself process what she had heard. That voice, that accent, sounded so familiar, as if she’d spent years listening to it.

She whipped around and widened her eyes as she saw who had spoken.

“Fancy seeing you here, Swan.” Killian said, winking as he held out a hand for her to grab onto. She did, and pulled herself up from off the floor, still wide eyed and open mouthed. He laughed as Emma gave herself a few seconds to gather her thoughts.

“Killian?” she asked, realising she was still holding the hand he’d offered her.

If he had been an attractive twelve-year-old, time had only been kind to him. She guessed he’d be in his late twenties, maybe early thirties; he was a couple years older than her at least. His dark hair was still just as messy and out of control, his face now peppered with dark, gingery scruff. And his eyes, they hadn’t changed at all, the bright blue she remembered still shining as he looked at her.

“Yeah.” he breathed, keeping his eyes on hers, “Bloody hell, how long has it been?” He didn’t ask in that way that people do when they’re trying to be polite, but in a way that seemed genuine. Emma had to think herself: how long had it been?

“Must be nearly ten years?” she guessed, “Since my graduation, probably.”

Killian snapped his fingers, nodding his head at her answer, “Seems about right.” he replied, looking her up and down, “You look good, lass.” he continued, smile warm and friendly. This was the boy she’d sat in silence with at a party, not the snarky, flirty Killian Jones everyone else knew. He’d grown up.

They had gone to some party when they were fourteen, where someone had the bright idea to play spin the bottle. And much to Emma’s despair, when her turn came along, the bottle landed on Killian. Time seemed to slow down for a while, but they sheepishly moved into a spare bedroom.

She’d never forget what he said next.

“I’m really sorry Emma, but I don’t think I can do this.”

Emma was surprised, but played it off as no big deal. She couldn’t blame him, she didn’t appreciate the game, either. But Killian’s hesitancy seemed deeper, sincerer than just a hatred for a silly game. He was scared.

“It’s okay, Killian,” she had replied, putting her hand on his.

He had only nodded in return and they sat in silence for a few minutes before they had heard knocking on the door.

“Would it be okay if you didn’t tell anyone about this?” he had asked, voice quiet. It was Emma’s turn to nod, and when they stepped out of the room, it was like he was a different person, all swagger and charm.

After that, Emma had made it a point to watch him, and it hadn’t taken long to figure out what he was doing. No one knew about his parents, that him and his brother were struggling. So, it was his defence.

Emma knew the feeling.

Shaking her head, she brought herself back to the present, looking down at herself, subconscious all of a sudden. She wondered if he could tell what she was hiding under her winter jacket. Don’t be stupid, Emma told herself, you’re just freaking out. No one can tell. You’re fine.

In truth, he really didn’t seem to notice anything, so she pushed the thought to the back of her mind. Remembering what he’d said, she replied, “Thanks.” keeping her voice as light as possible, “Same to you. You’ve really grown up.”

He raised a suggestive eyebrow, “What of it, Swan?”

There he was.

Emma laughed, mind cast back to the parade of girlfriend’s she’d seen Killian with over the years, how he used to look at them this same way. “Wouldn’t you like to know, hm?” she replied, not afraid to give him what he dished out.

“Perhaps I would.” he said, stare pinning her down, more intense than she’d remembered. She shuffled on the spot, unprepared for a somewhat sincere answer, and smiled, racking her brain for a way to change the subject. Then she realised where they were.

“Where are you off to?” Emma asked, clearing her throat and gesturing to the bags near his feet. He examined her own bags for a moment, before looking back at her as if he’d been hit with a realisation.

He let out a chuckle, and before Emma could even ask, he spoke again, “Quite possibly the same place you are.”

Emma furrowed her brow, taking a minute to understand what he was saying. “You’re going to Boston?” she asked slowly, crossing her arms in front of her. Finding the glass window behind her back, she leaned against it. He laughed again.

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he said, stopping momentarily before explaining further, “Your brother and parents invited me to Christmas dinner at the Nolans’ this year.”

Emma froze, eyes moving from his face to his bags in short, quick movements. It was one thing bumping into an old friend at the airport, but another entirely to be spending the next week with him.

“They did?” she asked incredulously. At his surprise, she back tracked. “Not that I’m surprised they would or anything, I’m just,” she sighed, “surprised, I guess.” It was quiet for a moment before they both started laughing, struck by the awkwardness of the situation. Killian was the first one to speak after that.

“Well, circumstances have left me alone this year, so David thought he better be nice to me.” The way he spoke, a sort of self-deprecating humour, made this confession appear unimportant, but Emma couldn’t help but feel he was hiding something more, that defence coming up stronger than ever. She opened her mouth to say something, but he interrupted her before she had the chance.

“Come get a drink with me, Emma.” he prompted, gesturing to the white landscape behind her. “It’s not like we have anywhere to be after all.” Pushing herself off the glass, she turned to look out the window and then back to Killian. She let out a breath and let her shoulders fall, relaxing slightly.

“How much is it going to cost me?” she asked, already picking up her bag. Killian, taking them from her and carrying them along with his own, started down the hall.

“My treat.” He threw the bags over his shoulder. Emma had no choice but to follow him, taking her bag back off him.

“Deal.” she said, “But I can carry my own stuff, thanks.”

Killian looked across at her, eyes tracing her face, “As you wish, Swan.” She smiled and shook her head as they approached a café, your typical, run of the mill airport food stop.

They ordered at the counter, and when Killian stopped her reaching for her purse, she scoffed, “So you’re going to be a gentleman now?” she asked, a smirk evident in her words.

He looked across at her, and in all seriousness, replied, “I’m always a gentleman, love.”

There it is, Emma thought. That suave, cool attitude all the girls had fallen for all those years ago. If you’d asked twelve-year-old Emma, she would have denied that she was one of them, the hopeless girls that tripped over themselves to get his attention. As an adult, looking back on her time as a teenager, she may have said otherwise.

Especially after seeing how gorgeous he had grown over the years.

But no, he was her brother’s best friend, so nothing had ever happened. That didn’t mean she was blind, however.

They found a table tucked away in the corner of the cramped café, making all sorts of small talk, from the freak snow storm to their individual travels. It didn’t take long for Emma to put her foot in her mouth.

“So why are you alone this year, Killian?” she asked. It wasn’t until she’d finished the question that she realised how insensitive it was, “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.” Emma said quickly, covering her tracks. But it was too late. She could visibly see some of the light drain from his eyes, but he played it off with a quiet chuckle.

“It’s okay, Emma.” he replied, almost amused by her doubt, “Let’s just say an unfortunate accident has left me without company this holiday season.”

“What about your brother?” she interrupted before she could stop herself. Emma remembered the day she had found out about Killian’s parents all those years ago. It had made her sad, in a way she hadn’t thought it would. Because if anyone knew what it was like to have no one it was her.

But to have parents, and then have them taken away? She couldn’t imagine. He hesitated this time, not simply shaking off her questions. Letting out a deep breath, he continued.

“My brother, Liam,” she nodded along with him, trying to make him feel comfortable, “he passed away. About, oh, six months ago now.”

Emma felt her stomach drop, as if she was on a rollercoaster. It was official. She wasn’t the loneliest person she knew anymore. She at least had David, even David’s parents when she really needed them. Emma knew how valuable a brother was, and how much Killian had looked up to his.

She reached across the table and rested her hand on his, “Killian,” she started, completely lost for words, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“It’s alright, lass.” he assured her, “You had no way of knowing.”

For a moment, the pair of them sat in silence and simply took one another in. It was an odd thing, the two of them meeting here, at this time of year and all. Emma tried to imagine what her reaction would have been had they seen each other for the first time at David’s. Part of her was glad she didn’t have to go through that surprise.

Most of her, actually.

Killian cleared his throat. “Really the worst part is that now I’ll have David pestering me about finding a woman to keep me company.” He looked up at her through unnaturally long, dark lashes, blue eyes meeting hers. She gave him a tight-lipped smile; deflecting with a joke was one of her moves.

But she felt the sincerity of his comment either way. Emma took a sip of her drink before responding.

“Ah, yes. Been there before. Or I am there, have been for the past ten years.” she told him. David was always trying to play matchmaker, especially since he’d met his wife Mary-Margaret. If there was ever a couple more in love, Emma was yet to meet them. It was almost sickening, honestly. They’d met about five years ago when David had been sent to the hospital with a concussion and Mary-Margaret had been working as a volunteer. Even the story was too sappy to handle.

Killian was looking at her from across the table, one hand on his drink and the other running through his hair. He smirked, nodding, “Aye, David can’t help himself sometimes.” he said. All of a sudden, as if struck by a bolt of lightning, his eyes lit up with a mischievous glow. Emma could practically see the light bulb go off above his head.

Emma remembered this part of Killian. This Killian was the one that Emma would see hanging around David after school and during lunch breaks, the two of them no doubt up to no good.

“Killian, whatever you’re thinking…”

“Do you remember when we used to prank David?” he interrupted. A cheeky smile came over his face, “Like when we convinced him that Professor Whale and the girl at the diner were together.”

Emma laughed at the memory, and the multiple other tricks they’d used over the years of high school. She’d almost forgotten, the fun they used to have. David was the common ground the two of them shared, so he became the victim.

It was a good time. It felt good having a big brother to annoy once and a while.

“Okay, that was pretty funny.” she replied, rolling her eyes, but keeping the smile on her face. “What’s your plan this time?” She kept her voice dry in an attempt to keep the situation light. Killian clasped his hands together and rested them in between them on the table.

“David wants you to find a guy,” he started, gesturing towards her. Emma nodded and encouraged him to continue, “and me to find a girl. What do you say we give him a heart attack?” Emma furrowed her brow, confused for a moment. She took in his smirk and suggestive eyebrow raise, and understood. Her mouth opened slowly in shock.

“You want to pretend that we…?”

His grin grew wider and Emma had to take a minute to think things through in her head. Would it be funny? Absolutely. And she couldn’t lie, pretending to be in a relationship with Killian? It could be worse.

But the problem would be the questions, and with questions came a need for answers. If there was one thing Emma wasn’t great at it was emotions, and relationships always included those.

That was her issue with them.

Killian was watching her expectedly as Emma let out a sigh, “I don’t know, Jones.” she said holding her hands up in surrender. He huffed and rolled his eyes, “Come on, love. Think about it. Imagine his face!”

Emma did and she couldn’t lie, the sight was one to remember, “Still as mischievous as always, I see.” Killian winked in her direction.

“Of course, Emma. I suppose I’m a bit of a scoundrel, nowadays.”

Emma snorted, letting a high laugh sound, “Okay, Han Solo, calm down.” He smiled at her, eyes crinkling around the edges in a way they never really used to. It was cute.

She sighed, Killian giving her what could only be described as puppy dog eyes. She considered her options carefully. It wouldn’t hurt, she thought, rationally, they are both heading there anyway. Making her decision, she held her hand out in front of her. “Sounds like a plan, scoundrel.”

He reached out and shook her offered hand. Emma almost thought she saw a glimmer of sincerity in his eyes when he looked at her.

Oh yeah, this was going to be fun.

–

They boarded their flight after an hour of jokes and discussion, and within fifteen minutes, they had their story somewhat sorted. By some miracle, Killian had bought a better seat than the grumpy man sitting next to Emma, so when he offered a trade, it really was a done deal.

“We need to keep going over this, lass.” Killian had said, “Despite your knack for knowing a lie when you hear one, you’re really not great at lying yourself.” Emma tried not to be offended and moved on quickly, ignoring the comment.

Tapping her fingers on the arm rest between them, Emma recited the plan. “Right. So we randomly met up one day in Maine. We talked, reminisced about days past and suddenly thought “What the hell, let’s go on a date”.” Emma paused for a moment, Killian nodding along, clearly impressed with his little tale.

“And so, we did. It took you a little while to warm up to me, but eventually you did. We’ve been travelling around together for three months and are very happy and very much not alone.”

Emma nodded a single time, letting out a breath.

“Are you sure we should do this? I mean, David’s going to freak, right?”

A chuckle sounding, Killian shrugged his shoulders. “That’s the whole point, Emma.” He looked at her as she raised her eyebrows doubtfully. “Look,” he started, voice softer, “if it really bothers you can just tell him the truth. I just figured, why not have a little Christmas fun?”

Quickly, Emma shook her head, casting out the second guesses moving around in her mind. He was right. It would be a bit of fun. Just fun.

For the rest of the flight, Emma’s stomach was up and down. After multiple trips to the bathroom, she started wondering if the cause was the turbulence or the other, more personal reason. Either way, when Killian started answering questions she shrugged it off. He didn’t need to hear the real sob story.

Luckily, she was distracted once they landed, and David had the perfect reaction to their news.

“You guys are WHAT?” he exclaimed, looking torn halfway between putting his hands on his hips in surprise, crossing his arms in annoyance, and tossing them in the air in disbelief. Emma and Killian, convincingly standing with their arms linked around each other, shrugged their shoulders and put on the sweetest grins they could muster.

“What can I say, Dave? It just happened.”

Emma had to hold in a scoff at Killian’s words. Really, he wasn’t wrong. Them meeting in the airport had just happened after all. Further than that however, David didn’t have too much to say about it.

“Well,” he began. Emma waited to hear his reaction and could feel Killian tense next to her. “As long as you guys are happy I’m happy.”

That was all that was said, but Emma caught David looking at the two of them suspiciously throughout the day. She shared a look with Killian, who shrugged his shoulders and leant down to whisper in her ear.

“Your brother seems to be handling this exceptionally well, Emma.” he said. When Emma saw David’s eyes on them, she let out a small laugh as if Killian had said something funny. “It wasn’t part of the plan,” he finished, a smile plastered on his face.

Emma looked up at him and mirrored his expression, raising her brows, “Come on, babe.” she said, winking at him, “Let’s find my parents.” She untangled their arms and latched onto his hand, pulling him through the maze of hallways and people until they came across Ruth Nolan, who, in seeing their hands intertwined and their closeness, squealed like a little child in a toy store.

“Oh, I just knew this would happen one day!” she exclaimed, pulling them both in for tight hugs, “Even when the two of you were younger, what with your flirting and banter and all that.” Emma and Killian turned to each other, surprise on both of their faces, the two of them remembering no such thing occurring in their childhood. Emma’s face pinked as she looked at the floor momentarily, before focusing once again on the woman before them.

“I’m so, so glad the two of you found each other,” Ruth reiterated, holding their hands to her chest. She looked at them as if they were her own children, which in Emma’s case was technically true. She had no doubts if Killian hadn’t had his brother, Ruth and her husband would have had no qualms about taking him in too.

Ruth shuffled away, off to fulfil her hosting duties, leaving Emma and Killian standing in silence. Slowly, they turned to look at each other, confused looks on their faces. “We didn’t do that did we?” Emma asked, looking down at their still clasped hands.

Neither of them moved to untangle themselves.

“Surely not, love. Surely not.” Killian replied, face more serious than joking. Before long, he was smirking again, this time pulling her along with him. “Let’s go cause some more mischief, Swan.”

They flitted around the room, seeing people neither of them had seen for nearly a decade, but all seemed to remember them. Strangely enough, most of the said people had similar reactions of ‘it’s about time’ after hearing of their relationship. It was strange to Emma. Sure, Killian was a flirty guy, and she wasn’t going to deny the fact that any thirteen-year-old in her right mind would have a bit of a thing for him. But he had more than enough girls hanging around him, better suited to him than his best friend’s sister.

She’d always thought.

The more reactions the pair got, the more Emma noticed it. But whenever someone would comment, Killian would blush a little, shuffling on the spot and grabbing her hand or arm tighter. Emma didn’t confront him about it until they found themselves in the kitchen, baking a new batch of gingerbread while Ruth entertained her guests.

Both kneading the mixture, Emma spoke quietly at first. “All this talk about us,” she started, Killian looking across at her with flour all over his face, “as in, us when we were kids. It makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

Killian slowly turned back to the task in front of him and shrugged his shoulders, “I mean, not too much.” Emma was startled at the reply. “Well, we did kind of flirt back in the day, love.” She huffed and threw her hands up disbelief. “Seriously? Am I the only one that wasn’t aware of this?”

Killian laughed, turning to lean against the countertop and run his fingers through his hair, sobering quickly in a way she’d never seen before. Emma studied him, this man who she had known as a boy, standing in front of her. Thoughts started to swim in her mind, and she suddenly started to feel the confusion sink in. This plan, meeting like they had, it was all too perfect.

Killian didn’t say a word, just looked over at her with big puppy eyes, “What do you want me to say, Emma?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know.” she admitted, “Anything.” He stayed quiet, shrugging his shoulders.“Did you know I would be here, Killian? I mean, you must have suspected, it shouldn’t have been much of a surprise.

He sighed, “I did expect it.” he said, letting out a dry laugh. “But I must admit, getting your name in the family secret Santa did spoil the surprise.”

Emma laughed, shaking her head. “So, at the airport?”

“That was legitimate surprise,” he explained, “I didn’t track your flight or anything creepy like that. Meeting you there was a coincidence.” Killian smiled at her, hands braced behind him on the counter. Emma was reeling, and after a few seconds of over analyzing and freaking out, she placed one of hers on his.

“A happy one.”

Slowly, Emma realised they were moving close to one another, leaning in until before she knew it, she was a mere ruler length from his face.

She’d known his eyes were blue, but damn they were blue.

Time felt like it was slowing down, bad romance clichés aside. They were only centimetres apart now, Killian’s gaze flicking between her eyes and her lips. His hand ran up her arm to rest gingerly in her cheek, and Emma knew he could tell how fast her heart was beating. What were they even doing?

Their lips came together for only a split second, a soft touch more than a kiss; that was all the two of them could handle. Emma was giddy, whether from the Christmas cheer or something else entirely. His lips were soft, as was his touch as she felt his hand move into her hair. They pulled apart, looking into each other’s eyes, almost testing the waters to see how the other was feeling.

She thought back to that fourteen-year-old boy who was too scared to kiss her in a closet at a party. How was this the same guy?

Before they could smile or say anything, a cough came from the entrance to the kitchen.

“Not sorry to interrupt, you two,” David said, the look on his face a cross between amused and traumatised, “Mum and Dad want everyone in the living room.”

Killian cleared his throat and, casting a parting smile back at her, pushed himself from his spot against the bench and made his way towards the connected room. David approached Emma, laying a hand on her shoulder.

“Everything alright, Emma?” he asked, concern and curiosity lacing his voice. She quickly nodded, replacing the shocked look on her face with a big smile. To him nothing weird had happened, and it needed to stay that way. Why would it be weird for two people who were together to kiss?

But something had happened. Big time. Because now that the kiss had happened, there was no way Emma wanted it to be a one time thing. But he didn’t know her, not really. He didn’t know what had happened to her over the last few months, what she was dealing with at that very moment. Only she did. That wouldn’t be fair to put this on him, to turn this stupid prank into something more than it was.

David turned out of the room, gesturing Emma to follow. While no one was there, Emma rested a hand on her belly in an attempt to feel something, any sort of connection. It was making everything complicated, just like she’d known it would. And it was why, evidently, she’d considered skipping the dinner that year.

But David had talked her into it, not that he knew the real reason for her hesitancy. And once she’d gotten to the airport, even if she’d wanted to turn back, she couldn’t. Because of Killian. And now, because of this ‘prank’, that was making her feel things she hadn’t felt in a while.

Letting out a sigh and removing her hand from its spot on her stomach, she too made her way into the living room. Emma spotted Killian in one corner and made her way over to him. He smiled and pulled her into his side in a tight embrace, as if nothing had changed.

But really, everything had.

–

Somewhere along the line, they had ended up outside in the snow. Not just Emma and Killian, but the whole party, everyone huddled in winter coats and boots. Snowball fights, snowmen constructions, and snow angels were the more popular activities, but Emma sat on a bench under the porch.

She hadn’t really talked to Killian after the incident. Emma wasn’t sure if she was avoiding him or the other way around. She could see him entertaining some of the younger of the Nolan clan. There was no doubt about it: Emma was starting to have feelings for Killian, much to her annoyance.

Lost in thought, she didn’t notice the snowball flying towards her until it was too late. A little boy with blonde hair stood before her giggling. Behind him, with hands on his shoulders, was the very man himself.

“Good throw, lad,” he said, cheerfully praising the boy. He lifted a gloved hand and waited for a high five from the little boy. Jumping, the child did just that before hurrying off to his mother. Killian smiled at her, slowly making his way towards her. Emma was ready to put her walls up, to shut him down, but the urge didn’t seem to come.

“Hello, love,” he said, sitting down beside her. He kept his hands to himself, fortunately or unfortunately enough. Emma smiled, casting a glance out of the corner of her eye.

“Hi, Killian.”

They sat for a while, watching the wintery fun unfold before them. “You’re not going to join in on the festivities?” he asked her.

“Well, I’m a little bit distracted,” she replied, sending a pointed glare in his direction.

“It was a kiss, love,” he whispered, “All for a good show.” He sounded confident, the attitude and swagger returning.

Somehow, Emma didn’t believe it.

“Killian, that’s a pile of crap and you know it,” she replied, not holding back with him. “You and I both know there was more to that kiss than a stupid prank.”

For a scary moment, she wondered if she’d read the situation wrong. That to him, that’s all the kiss was. For the story, to keep David in the dark. But no, because if that was the truth, he wouldn’t be looking at her like he was now.

“Aye, love. Perhaps it was,” Killian said quietly, stretching his arm behind her shoulders along the back of the seat. “I don’t know, Emma. Back when we were kids I thought I liked you, but then you never seemed to be interested, so I moved on. But,” he sighed, “when I found out you were coming here, when I saw you at the airport, until I met you again, I realised I hadn’t.”

With the confession came another bout of silence. Digesting the information, Emma sat in silence. She knew Killian was waiting for a response, but she didn’t know what she was supposed to say. Not for the first time, or the last, she thought back to the baby inside of her. She couldn’t do this, not after everything.

But maybe she could. Maybe.

Sighing, she stood up suddenly, holding her hand out in front of Killian. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go cause some more mischief.”

At her echoing his words from earlier that day, he smiled, letting his eyes flick up to her face. Letting out a breathy chuckle, he took her hand.

The rest of the night went in a blur. There was laughter and snow and falling on the cold ground, but in the end, everyone ended up freezing and soaking wet.

Emma sat on the sofa next to the fire, Killian next to her with an arm around her shoulders. She let herself lean against his chest, and surprised even herself when she took hold of his other hand, hers and his now clasped in his lap. He looked down at her, eyes blown wide.

“You know, love,” he started, “You never told me what you’ve been up to the last few years.”

Her stomach dropped. This was it, the thing that would make him run the other way, cursing himself for ever getting tangled up with her. Emma knew she could have shrugged it off, given him some sort of made up answer. But it wasn’t fair. She’d gotten herself into this mess, she had to be honest. Especially about something like this.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted out before she could stop herself. She felt Killian tense under her touch. She looked up at him sheepishly, heart dropping when she saw his face. It was full of confusion, concern, surprise, and some weird sort of anger. Not willing to hear his response, she kept talking.

“Earlier this year, some guy knocked me up and ran off. I was stupid, it’s really my fault. But I have no idea what to do and I’m scared and wasn’t even going to come this year, but…”

Emma had been looking down at her hands, but Killian put a hand under her chin, forcing her to look at him. Concern. That was all she could see in his eyes now. Concern and possibly something similar to love.

“Love, why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, voice soft and caring, but also full of shock and hurt. Emma avoided his eyes, looking anywhere but.

“I don’t know.” she said pitifully, “I didn’t want you to think any less of me, or worry about me or anything stupid like that.”

Killian let out a sigh. “Emma, nothing you do or tell me could ever do that. I just wished you’d have said something.”

“I know, I know. It’s just…”

Before she could finish, he pressed his lips to hers and she let herself fall into him even more.

The arm around her shoulders tightened and the other wrapped around her waist, effectively pulling her onto his lap. They stayed like that for who knows how long, not a care in the world. She’d just told him her biggest secret, and it had led to this. Emma didn’t know how or why, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

They pulled apart after a while, Killian keeping his hand under her chin. He looked at her face, eyes roaming everywhere, as if he was taking in what he saw.

“Emma,” he began, voice soft. “I’m so sorry, you shouldn’t have to be dealing with that alone. The guy sounds like an idiot, hell he is one if he left you. And don’t think for a second that it’s your fault.”

Emma could practically feel herself melt. This is what had been missing in the early days of this drama. Someone to look after her, to care.

“Thank you,” she whispered, holding back a rogue tear that had begun to form. “You don’t think I’m an idiot? I’ve heard that for too much in the last few months,” she said, her voice self-deprecating, an attempt to lighten the conversation.

Killian’s brows furrowed automatically. “In no way, shape, or form, Emma. I’m going to choose to see the best in you, love. Just like you did, at that party and the damn spin the bottle game. Even though I was a tad of a bastard back then, you saw the good, and I promise to do the same.”

They stayed like that, curled up on the couch for the rest of the night. At some point during the night someone had put a blanket down over them, keeping them warm through the night. When they woke up, memories of the night before flooded over them both. Emma had to stop herself from crying, sure that Killian was going to come to his senses and leave.

But he didn’t. He stayed.

—

He stayed for the next six months and held her hand when the baby was born. He stayed for the years later, raising the baby boy as if he was his own. He stayed long enough to propose, and for them to have children of their own.

And every year at Christmas, they thought back to the year when they ran into each other in an airport and their lives changed forever.

David never did find out about the prank, that they hadn’t truly been together when they’d come to his house that day, but it didn’t matter.

Because they were together when they left. It was a Christmas miracle.

[little-inkstone]

Voice Over

Summery:   To supplement her income, since working at the library is her dream job but it doesn’t pay very well, Belle works as an actress that dubs over porn movies that can’t afford boom mics.  All seems well until the company decides they want an more organic sound and decide to have Belle record her lines with the other actor in the room.

AN: I’ve finally written this idea after so long without even thinking about it!  Thanks to @annythecat for helping with the title!  Also shout out to @tinuviel-undomiel who has wanted this fic and championed it from the very beginning, I really hope you like it!

Rating: NC-17

Belle sat at her kitchen table, looking over her bills and chewing her lower lip.  She was short again this month.  It wasn’t surprising but she had been hoping that her raise would have been able to cover her car repair and her bills along with groceries.  Apparently an extra dollar an hour wasn’t enough to cover her normal expenses as well anything that might come up.  Sighing she fiddled with her phone, it seemed she’d have to call and see if there was any extra work for her.  The library was her dream job; she’d wanted to be a librarian for as long as she could remember.  But when she’d finally landed said job in a quaint sleepy little town thousands of miles from her home, she’d soon realized it didn’t pay enough for her to make ends meet.

Licking her lips she dialled a number she hoped she wouldn’t need to call again after her raise. She’d tried moonlighting at several different jobs, but most places just didn’t need the help, and the ones that did had hours that clashed with her day job.  Moving into the apartment above the library had made it so she’d always have a roof over her head, but the rent was taken out of her check.  Even though it was less than where she’d been staying before, it still didn’t leave enough left over for food and the rest of her bills. Desperation had led to looking for less wholesome jobs until she finally found one that balanced her modesty with a pay check that would keep her head above water.

She’d never given much thought to porn beyond setting up a camera and filming two or more people taking part in carnal pleasure.  But logically there would be more to it than that.  Just like any other film set there would have to be a director to figure out the best angle, a person in charge of the lighting, and an editor to splice all the takes together.  She’d taken a film class in collage when getting her degree, so she had a vague idea of what was needed on a set, and one of those things was a boom mic, something that was surprisingly expensive, most sound equipment was. That was how Belle had found herself in a rather nice sound booth moaning and gasping as if she were feeling the most amazing sensation in the world, instead of faking it more than the blonde on screen she was dubbing over.  The job paid well and wasn’t as seedy as it sounded either, in a matter of hours she could make more than a week at the library.

It was a bit embarrassing at first, but she’d gotten the hang of it, and rather good at it as well, but she had been relieved when she found out she’d be getting a raise. If she could support herself fully on just her main job she’d really feel like she made it as an actual adult, and not just a twenty-something playing at one.  Pressing the phone to her ear she smiled wryly.  Seems she hadn’t made it just yet and would need to book another session with the company she’d been working with.  Looking down at her bills as the phone rang she frowned, a few more times at least.

A familiar voice finally picked up the phone and rattled off the company’s name, which could be mistaken for any other boring office of some kind if one didn’t know better. Belle explained who she was and asked if there was anything open in the next few weeks.  She doodled on her notepad as she was transferred to the person that could be loosely called her agent.  The call was short; she booked a little less than half a dozen sessions in the booth.  Right before she was going to hang up Ms. Blue stopped her.

“There is one more thing.”  She added.

“Yes?”  Belle said, her pen pausing above the paper. She couldn’t imagine what that would be.

“We’ve begun trying something new for a more organic sound.  Would you be alright with recording in the same room as your co-star?” Ms. Blue asked.  “It pays better and we have a big movie coming up, it’ll be three recording session and it’ll be double what you’ve already been booked for.”

Belle felt her eyes widen at her words.  Three recordings that would pay double what the five she’d booked?  It seemed too good to be true.  

“It would just be the same thing as before, right?  Voice, nothing else?  I wouldn’t have to do anything with him, or her, would I?”  Belle clarified.

“Strictly no touching, only audio dubbing like before; but this time you’d be sharing your mic with someone.  You’ll be alone with him in the booth, but there will be others there, and if you feel uncomfortable it’s the same as your other jobs, you can walk away.”  Blue explained.

Biting her lower lip she began doodling again as she thought it over.  “Okay,” Belle finally said.  “Book me for the movie.”

Over the next week Belle tried not to think about the upcoming dubbing job she’d be doing with some mystery man.  Driving up to Boston for a long weekend to record the most of the solo sessions helped to calm her nerves.  It was just like any other job, a job she was rather good at.  Porn wasn’t very titillating when it was silent and being projected on the far wall with a timeline running underneath it, and faking the same orgasm over and over again until the editor was happy made it all rather clinical.  She’d seen a documentary once about more legitimate voice acting jobs, and the setting seemed to be the same.  Expect instead of some kind of colourful cartoon character she was usually voicing a naked or mostly naked woman pretending to have the time of her life in bed with a man that looked to be so big it would be painful.

The first time had been extremely embarrassing, and she’d been so awkward she’d almost been fired until something inside of her just clicked.

They started all their newbies with some more vanilla scenarios and as she cleared her throat to try again she looked up at the screen.  This couple were armatures, this was their first video and might be there only one but it wasn’t the end of their relationship.  They were actually married and loved each other, and it showed too. In their eyes they were clearly enjoying what was happening, and something about that changed the way Belle looked at everything.  She wanted to be a part of that in some small way, she wanted to do her best, and she hoped that could find the type of love she could see in their eyes.  It was an oddly poetic thought considering she was dubbing a short video of two people having sex but it helped her get the job done. From then on she’d had no trouble. But the feeling of nerves from that first time was back now that she’d be in the booth with someone else.  All kinds of worries haunted her as she went about the weeks before the first session.  What if he was creepy?  What if he smelled?  What if he laughed at her?

“Miss French?”

Belle jumped, the voice pulling her out of her thoughts.  She felt herself begin to blush when she realized she’d been lost in thought.  Standing before her was the immaculately dressed Mr. Gold, one of his eyebrows quirked and two books in his hands.  Belle wished a hole would open up in the floor and allow her to disappear.  What would he say if he knew the reason she hadn’t been paying attention at work was because she was trying to envision what it would be like to dub over a porno with a partner instead of alone like usual. The thought of Mr. Gold and porn made her blush even harder.  Nothing like stoking the fires of a silly never-going-to-happen crush like imagining the object of your affection in a compromising situation.

“Sorry about that, Mr. Gold.”  She asked with a bashful smile.

“That’s all right, Miss French, you’re not the first to be caught wool gathering at work.”  He said kindly.  “I won’t tell your boss.”  Gold added as he leaned in conspiratorially.

“Very kind of you.” Belle replied, nodding seriously, it didn’t last; instead she ducked her head and covered her mouth to stifle her laugh. When she looked up again Mr. Gold was still smiling at her.  She liked when he smiled, he really ought to do that more often.  “How can I help you today?”  She finally asked after a long moment of them just smiling at each other.

“Oh, just these.” He said, holding up his regular mystery novel and a children’s book for his son Baden.

“These are both great,”  She said as she scanned them.  “Bae will love the twist at the end, and I think you’ll enjoy it too.”  Belle added with a smile, and a wink.

No one would think it by the look of him, but Mr. Gold was a doting father that was always taking home books for his young son and brining him to story time on Thursdays. He smiled at her and said his goodbyes. She couldn’t help watch him leave, his suit doing nothing to disguise his entrancing form.  Someone opened the door to enter the library but their eyes all but bulged out of their head when they saw Gold was coming out and they turned to scramble away.  Rent day was coming soon, and Gold might be polite with her and loving to Bae, but he was ruthless when it came to those that owed him money.  The dichotomy between the man that she could joke with and share opinions books and the man that all of Storybrooke feared was a fascinating one.  If she were being honest it was probably a little bit apart of why she had developed her crush in the first place.  If she were to continue being honest she more often than not thought of Mr. Gold and his delicious accent when in the recording booth.

Finally the day of the first recording session was at hand and Belle was dealing with first time jitters all over again.  The drive to Boston did nothing to make her feel better, and by the time she had parked and walked into the usual building she was regretting eating breakfast.  Her heels seemed to click ominously against the marble floor.  But somehow it was worse when she took the elevator up to the third floor.  The biggest booths were there instead of the second floor and she noticed the carpet, that muffled the sounds of walking, was a different colour.  She took a calming breath and tried to keep from freaking out.  Belle would be brave and just do it and then it would be over, she wasn’t feeling very brave but she could make her own bravery.

The editor and sound designer were already all set up and she was relieved to find that it was two people she’d worked with before.  Merida and Mulan were talented to say the least, and they made a cute couple too. They’d met in film school and like Belle was using this job to pay the bills until they could break into the bigger industry at large.  She was sure they could do it too, they’d already worked on a popular indie movie; they were on the cusp of making it big in their field.  Knowing that and knowing they’d be in the other room listening to her vocal performance soothed some of her anxiety.

That just left the man she’d be working with today.  He hadn’t arrived yet so she helped get the levels on the mic balanced, which helped take her mind off of what he’d be like.  She leaned against the outside wall of the sound booth and checked her watch, in a few more minutes he’d be late, not very professional of him.  Just as she was thinking that she heard the odd three step pattern of someone walking with a cane.  It was a familiar sound, she’d heard it enough times when Mr. Gold came to the library or walked into Granny’s, and she’d gotten used to recognizing it.  For a moment she was expecting to see Gold walking towards her, but she knew that couldn’t be the case.  When she looked up to see who was actually attached to the sound she had to blink rapidly to make sure her imagination wasn’t playing tricks on her.

“Mr. Gold?” She gasped.

“Miss French?”

“Oh, good, now you’re both here.”  Mulan said as she opened the second door for the sound booth.  “Now we can start.”

It was almost comical the way Belle and Gold looked at her and then back at each other. Mulan couldn’t sense the tension or else didn’t care as she closed the door again, expecting them to go through the other so they could start recording their lines.  Always the gentleman Gold opened the door for her, an emotionless mask slipping over his features so she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.  Her own mind was racing a mile a minute.  Why was he here?  Surely he didn’t need to money the same way she did, and if so, for what?  Most of all though she wanted to know how she’d ever be able to moan and pretend to come with him right beside her.  How was she supposed to concentrate when he’d be right there, moaning in her ear and whispering dirty words to her?

They double checked the mic again and then started playing the film; Belle almost couldn’t hear the directions of Merida over the pounding of her heart.  The first few lines were simple enough; the kind of corny dialogue found at the beginning of most porn’s to set the scene.  Unlike in the past she had to try and focus with someone else in the room, someone else that was pure sex incarnate.

“I’m so glad you were able to come over on such short notice.”  Belle simpered.  “My husband will be furious with me if he comes home and finds the oven’s not working.”

“I’m happy to service you and your oven, ma’am.”  He rumbled, his voice lower than usual.  His accent was lighter, only a hint at the edges, but it was still all him. “It’d be a shame to deprive a man of what will no doubt be a delicious–”  The actor on screen paused to lick his lips and so did Gold.  “Meal.”  He finished.

The film proceeded and the young shirtless buff man on screen pretended to fiddle with the oven before standing again.  Meanwhile the bleach blonde had begun to undo the upper buttons of her shirt and when he stood she had revealed the tops of her breasts, her nipples beginning to peak out. Belle’s eyes shifted, unable not to check to see how he was reacting, but his face was impassive.

“I know you should have mentioned this before.”  Belle said, a girlish whine in her voice.  “But I’m not sure I have enough to pay you.”

“Well, I’m sure we can always work something else out.”  He replied suggestively.

His on screen counterpart kissed her and Belle let out a breathy moan, Gold let out a hiss in response and then her counterpart was pulling back.

“My husband…” She gasped lustily.

“Won’t mind sharing.”  He growled and then let out a deep moan as they kissed again.  Belle whimpered and panted as he started to kiss his way down her neck.

“You like that, don’t you, you dirty girl.”  She rubbed her legs together as he whispered in her ear.

“Yes, oh fuck!” Belle cried as his hand moved up her leg to slip between her thighs.

From that point there was mostly just breathy sighs and moans until they were both naked. Their hands moving along each other’s bodies, her hand on his cock as she stroked him, his mouth on her breast as he sucked and licked.  Then he was pushing into her and she was letting out breathy little cries of pleasure as he sank further and further into her wet heat.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.”  Gold hissed, his accent had thickened and he pulled away from the mic to clear his throat and repeat himself.  “Oh fuck, you’re so tight.  Do you like that?  Do you like being fucked by my big cock?”

“Yes!  I love it, I love being fucked!  Oh fuck!  Oh fuck! Oh fuck!!!”  She screamed as she threw her head back in ecstasy.

There was a longer stretch of quiet after that, filled with mostly Gold’s whispering and her moans and then finally the scene ended.

It was like coming out of a dream, in one moment she was a wife cheating on her husband and loving it, and in the next she was just Belle again, a down on her luck librarian. Everything was wrapped up, and they were told they could go after which Mulan and Merida left, and suddenly it was just her and Gold.  They stood awkwardly in the lobby of the building looking at each other and trying not to.  Belle had never been aroused by a session before, it had always just been a job for her, but listening to Mr. Gold whisper filth in her ear had done more for her than anything else ever had.  Hearing him curse and moan had ruined her now for anyone else; there just wasn’t anything sexier than his Scottish drawl telling her he wanted to fuck her.  She closed her eyes and tried to get a grip, Belle wouldn’t ever be able to look at him in the eyes again if she kept thinking like this.

“I need a drink.” Gold said, making her look at him in surprise.  He smiled at her awkwardly and shrugged.

“My hotel has a bar.”  She offered. “Maybe we could, talk?”

“I’d like that.” He replied softly.

They took her car back to where she was staying and they found a secluded table after ordering their drinks.  For a long time they sipped their drinks in silence.  Belle drew on the table with the moister from her drink as Gold played with the ice in his drink.  He’d ordered them both two fingers of whiskey and it was on their third that Belle felt brave enough to break the silence.

“Are you going to be okay to drive back to Storybrooke?  Bae won’t want his Papa to hurt himself trying to get home for bedtime.” She said.

“He’s staying at the Nolan’s for the weekend, they think I’m on a work trip, in a way I sort of am.” Gold told her.  She nodded contemplatively and took another sip of her drink.

“Why are you doing this anyway?”  Belle asked. She knew there was a better way to phrase it but she was getting a buzz and the curiosity was killing her.

“Same reason you’re doing this I suppose.”  He said, finishing his drink and raising his hand for another.

“Money? You’re like the richest guy in town.” Belle covered her mouth and let out a sheepish laugh.  “Sorry, I’m a talkative drunk.”

Gold waved off her apology.  “It’s fine.” He looked down at his empty glass, the ice clicking as he swirled it.  “Yes, I do it for the money.  I want Bae to have everything I never had; his mother doesn’t see it that way, her alimony payments would drain me dry if I didn’t do this.”  Then he gestured to his right ankle under the table.  “That and medical bills are hell.”

Belle reached out, grasping his hand with hers.  “That’s awful.”  She said, then she smiled.  “It puts rent day into a new perspective though.”

“That it does.” He laughed.  “I doubt that would make any of the deadbeats actually pay on time though.”  Gold ran his hand through his hair and sighed.  “Why am I telling you my problems?  A beautiful and kind young woman like you doesn’t want to hear the sorrows of an old monster like me.”

“You’re not old, or a monster.”  She said firmly.  Scooting along the connected seat of their table she let her thigh press against his. “Besides, you weren’t too old for what we did in the booth today.”

He gaped at her as she looked at him, her face closer to his than it ever had been before. From this distance she could see the gold in his eyes, the subtle silver at his temples, and the stubble that was beginning to come in after a long day.  She could also smell him too, spicy and strong with the hint of the malt they were drinking and something that reminded her of his shop, all of it mixed together to make an intoxicating smell that was all his own.  Belle licked her lips and she saw his eyes slip from hers to her mouth.

“Belle…”  He whispered right before she took the plunge and took the kiss she’d been longing for since she’d first met him.

His moan was softer than the one she’d heard him use earlier in the day but she preferred it that way.  She sighed and ran her hands though his hair as one of his moved to grasp her hip. His lips tasted like the whiskey they’d been drinking and she couldn’t help but smile.  Belle had dreamed about this and now it was happening.  He was kissing her, she’d kissed him and he’d kissed her back, rather enthusiastically at that.

“Come up to my room.”  She whispered as she pulled back when they needed to breathe.  He nodded and threw enough bills on the table to cover their drinks plus a tip.

They made their way up to her room, trading kisses and silly giggles as they went.  The elevator was empty so he pressed her up against the wall as they kissed and let their hands wander.  When the doors opened they were caught shamefaced by the person waiting to get on.  Lucky for them it was also her floor and they made their way to her room.  Once inside they were pulled back together as if an invisible string was connecting them.  This time as their hands wandered they also began to undo each other’s clothes.  Her buttoned top was easy enough to remove and so was Gold’s tie, but they need to break apart to get her bra off and for him to remove his jacket and waistcoat.  They shared a laugh that died as soon as her bra was off.  He looked at her with wide eyes, his mouth slack.

“You’re beautiful.” Gold whispered his hands reaching for her.

She sighed and smiled as he touched her, a low heat beginning to build between her legs.  “So are you.”  Belle whispered, kissing the v of skin his unbuttoned shirt revealed.

“Too kind as always.”  He murmured.

“Honest, not kind.” She retorted, nipping his neck in admonishment.

“You’re a wonder, Belle.”  Gold moaned, leaning down to capture her lips in a bruising kiss.

Belle clung to him, undoing his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders as they kept kissing. Somehow they removed their shoes and his socks without breaking their hold on each other.  His belt was a little trickier as were her tights, but they managed with only a bit of fumbling.  She pulled him down on top of her on the bed and wrapped her arms around his neck to keep him there.  His weight felt good on top of her, it was a sensation she could get used to.  Then something occurred to her and she started to giggle.  Gold pulled back, looking rather offended for a moment but she shook her head as she laughed.

“It’s not you, it’s me.  I just realized I don’t know your first name.”  Belle felt herself beginning to blush as her laughter subsided and she looked up to see Gold looking down at her fondly.

“It’s, ah, Rembrandt.”  Gold admitted.  “It’s a family name.”  He tried to explain, but Belle just smiled.

“I like it, but it might be a bit of a mouthful while we…” She trailed off with a coy smile and bit her lower lip.  “Do you have a nickname?  Brandt? Rem?’  Her eyes lit up and she leaned forward to kiss him.  “Maybe I should give you my own name.  How about Rum?”

He laughed. “Rum?  Why?”

“Because I’m planning to drink you down and I’m not sure I won’t get addicted.”  Belle hummed.

Gold groaned and kissed her hard.  She smiled against his lips, happy her words had had the intended effect, despite the fact that they might have been cheesier then anything she’d had to read in the past.  Belle shimmied out of her skirt and helped him pull his pants down, leaving them in nothing but their underwear.  He moved to kiss her neck, she moaned as he sucked her pulse point, a mark sure to be left behind by his seeking lips.  She ran her hands down his back, scratching his back and sighing, Belle rolled her hips, feeling the hard length of him against her thigh.  Belle snuck her hand down between them to cup his cock and he let out a strangled sound of pleasure.

“You’re playing with fire.”  He pretended to snarl and she had to bite back a laugh as his eyes shone with mirth. Seemed they were both just as bad as the scripts they’d been reading.

“I hope I’ll get burned.”  She purred.

Gold shook his head as he laughed.  “You’re a wonder.”

Belle giggled and kissed him again as they started to touch each other once more.  She nipped at his neck trying to leave her mark on him the way he’d left his on her.  He hummed and pecked her lips before moving down to kiss along her chest and stomach.  Her breath started coming faster as she realized what he was going to do and she let out a whimper as he pressed a kiss to her hip and helped her remove her underwear. The pulsing need between her legs grew worse as he nuzzled her trimmed curls.  She bit her lower lip and wriggled under him as he pressed his first kiss to her clit.  Belle let out a muffled moan as he showed her how talented his tongue really was.  Her back arched as he licked intricate patterns against her flesh, one of his fingers moving to play with her entrance. When he slowly let it sink into her, a second following soon after she let out a high pitched whimper of pure need.

As he sucked on her clit she trembled and came with a soft cry.  He didn’t stop until he had made her tremble and gasp twice more; it felt as if he knew exactly how to touch her.  She couldn’t take anymore and when she told him so he smirked at her in a smug way that she found insufferably charming.  Belle pulled him up to kiss him, moaning when she tasted herself on his lips.  They traded kisses and held each other as she came back to herself more.  Soon enough she began to grow antsy again, the throbbing need for the man in her bed returning with a vengeance.  She rolled on top of him and pulled down his boxers, his cock springing free.  He looked perfect, not too long, but thick enough that she knew he’d fill her up perfectly.

Rising up on her knees she took him in hand and smiled down at him as he looked up at her. Carefully she lowered herself and groaned, rolling her head back as she felt him press deep inside her.  She held herself still for a moment, just enjoying the feeling of them together, then his hands moved to hold her hips and she began to move.  Their rhythm was slow at first, intimate and perfect as she felt him touch all the right places deep inside her.  Soon desperation began pulling at her core, causing her to begin to speed up as she chased the pleasure he was offering her.  Beneath her Gold began to grow more vocal in his moans, his grip on her hips tightened and then one hand moved to trace along her skin, making her shiver. He pinched her nipple and then he trailed the tips of his fingers back down her body to rub her clit.

Whimpering, Belle held his shoulders, her pace increasing with every thrust of his hips. She watched his face as he grew closer to the peak of pleasure they were both chasing.  He squeezed his eyes shut; his teeth grit and she felt his hips stutter as he came with an almost silent huff.  Watching him come and feeling his release hot inside her pushed her over the edge. Belle gasped as she squeezed his thick cock, he kept moving inside her through both his and her orgasm until they were both completely spent.  She fell against his chest, both of them trying to catch their breath.  Belle rolled off of him, whimpering when she felt him begin to soften and pull out of her.  He rolled on his side and pulled her into his arms, the two of them trading lazy kisses.

 “I love you.” He said, breaking the silence.

They both froze at his words, her breath stolen by them.  He looked away, his eyes hidden by his hair.  She could feel him moving away from her both physically and emotionally. Belle couldn’t let that happen, not after how far they’d come in such a short amount of time.  She was tired of trying to douse her crush when it just seemed to burn hotter and brighter every day.  Honestly it hadn’t been just a crush for a long time, longer then she’d wanted to admit.  So she did what she always tried to do, she was brave and hoped bravery would follow.

“I’m in love with you too.”

He looked back at her so quickly his neck almost snapped.  “You do?”  Gold whispered.

“Yeah,”  She smiled and shrugged.  “Have been for a while actually.”

For some reason her eyes were watering.  She couldn’t imagine why; it wasn’t like she’d just admitted her feelings for a guy she’d been yearning for since she moved to Storybrooke while they lay in bed naked after having mind blowing sex.  Oh wait, that’s exactly what she’d done.  Belle blinked rapidly, hoping he wouldn’t notice her eyes had gone glossy.  The pad of his thumb was warm and reassuring against her cheek as he wiped away her tears.

“Hey, don’t cry.” Gold whispered.  “Please don’t cry.”

“Sorry, I don’t want to ruin the mood.”  Belle said.

“No, don’t, I did, I shouldn’t have–”

“Don’t say that!” She insisted, shaking her head.  “I’m just so happy.  It’s a little fast, but I mean it.”

“I mean it too.” He told her cupping her cheek.

He rolled away from her and she felt his loss keenly, so she followed him up, both of them sitting side by side.  She rested her head against his shoulder and took his hand, their fingers lacing together automatically.  They sat like that for a long moment, just soaking in the feeling of being together with all their feelings out in the open.

“You know, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”  Belle said trying to lighten the sober mood that had fallen over them.  It worked, Gold started to laugh and he turned to kiss her forehead.

“You know, I think you might be right.”  He replied with a soft smile.

[supernaturalthoughtsworld]

One Night with a Psychopath

Description: Jim Moriarty takes reader to a ball, where things soon take an unexpected turn. 

Characters: Moriarty X Female Reader 

Triggers: Sex 

Length: 1,998 words

Note: Sorry guys this was a long one but I plan on writing more parts to this. Hope you like it! 

He left the invitation on top of your pillow in your bedroom. It was typed with calligraphy letters that made it seem like you were being invited to 17th century French ball rather than a modern one. You had told Jim that you would rather swim in shark infested waters than go to a fancy party with him. He took this as an act of playing hard to get, which you could tell turned him on oh so greatly. His mouth grew into a devilish grin and he reply with a simple, “We’ll see”. Moriarty made your skin crawl, however, as of lately you weren’t sure if it were in a bad or good way. Being Sherlock’s assistant was turning more into a nightmarish fever and when the criminal mastermind himself took a liking to you. It become even more of horrifying carnival attraction that you where forced to participate in. You roll your eyes at the invite when your phone beings to ring. You know exactly who it is before even looking at the caller ID. 

“What?” You answer. 

“Is that how you greet your date?” Moriarty replies. His Irish accent is playful almost like he knew it made you shiver in delight. 

“What makes you think I’m even going”? You scoff

“Please, don’t try and think you’re smarter than me. Darling, I am a bad boy for a living, you should know by now I always have a plan”, he says ending the last part with a sing song tone. 

There is a silent moment until you hear a sigh on the other end. 

“Meaning, if you decided not to join me. I’ll have to pay your mother a visit, now wouldn’t I?” Moriarty explains with a serious infliction. 

Your heart drops to your knees as you realize the severity of the situation. It dawns on you that Jim will not be letting you off the hook as simply as you hoped. 

“What should I wear”? You tried to sound sarcastically cheerful. 

“Something sexy”, he says. Before finishing with a quirky goodbye. 

You were left stunned and heart pumping into your chest  You knew you had to go to this damn ball for the safety of your loved ones but in the back of your mind, you felt a jolt of electricity from the thought of being with James Moriarty.     

The evening of:   

The red dress hugged your curves in all the right places with a backless detail that showed off your soft skin. You looked in the mirror and smiled, you look smokin’. “Eat you heart out, Moriarty”, you say to the mirror before heading out. The car was waiting outside your flat, Jim as usual with his games was meeting you at the venue. You were nervous for what the evening held but most of all you were nervous over your emotions towards the psychopath. Like most textbook psychopaths, James Moriarty was charming, handsome, and supernaturally smart. He made you flush every time he said your name, every time he even looked your way with those deadful eyes. 

The ballroom was cluttered with societies finest trying so desperately to sound more sophisticated than each other. You walked in scanning the room for Jim but the stares of the men and women alike blocked your sense of direction. They were looking at you either with lustful eyes or jealousy, it made you slightly uncomfortable. Just as you were about to text him, a familiar accent filled the air. James was in the center of a group of people, laughing at every word he said. For a brief second you thought of running, telling someone you were brought here on threats towards your family but you caught Jim’s eye as you stood there contemplating. His stare burned holes into your skin as he walked away from the crowd without saying a word. When you were face to face he leaned in kissing your neck softly growling into your ear. “You look amazing”, he whispered. He handed you a glass of champagne with a teethy grin like a predator who found his next meal. The two of you walked around the ballroom greeting every other couple as they made their rounds. You could still see men fixated on you as you moved, you could also see the glimmer of jealousy in Moriarty's behavior as he ushered you away from these men. If he wanted to play silly games, you were more than happy to play. 

“Is someone a little jealous of how much attention this dress is getting”? You ask.

The question took Moriarty aback as he paused for a second. Giving you a look that seemed to only be reserved for the great Sherlock Holmes. You flashed him a smile as you walked passed him and began talking it up with another gentlemen at the bar. You could feel Moriarty’s death stare even has your back was turned but this only excited you more. In all the time you worked for Mr. Holmes, you had never experienced this type of stimulation before. A dangerous man taking you out to a ball whilst you flirt with other men was like having a severe death wish. However, you thought if he was distracted by you, he wouldn’t hurt your family. Perhaps that’s a better reason than admitting that you loved the way Jim looked at you with desire filled eyes.

“If you want to play, (y/n), we can play but I’m warning you I don’t play fair”, Moriarty said. 

He was standing in the back of you as you were speaking to a man in front. This revaluation made the hairs of your neck stand up. 

“Excuse me”, you smiled at the man and he quickly noticed Moriarty, moving himself along without saying goodbye.Moriarty looked at you with an open mouth as if he was faking a surprised expression. He laughs, pulling you in as the music starts up and people begin to dance. 

“You’re sick, you know that”? You gave him a distasteful look. 

“Oh yes, my dear, my sweet sweet dear. I’m sick and twist but your still here, aren’t you?” He answers.  

The way he looks at you burns a fire beneath that you try to suppress. The swaying of the dancing and the licking of his lips might as well take you down right now. 

“I have too, remember”? You snap back. 

He laughs at your sudden burst of attitude like it excites him. “You are sassy, I love it. I’ve never met someone who would dare test me like that”, he explains. “If you were anyone else, I’d have to... well you know... accidentally push you off the balcony”, he said as a matter of fact. 

“Well I’m glad I can be so entertaining for you”, you reply. Realizing that his body was inching closer to you as the music slowed to a stop. Your knees became weak at the thought of his kiss on your neck again but to your disapproval he only teases a kiss. Pulling away with an enlightened expression. 

“This place is boring me and you’re far to beautiful to be at such a dull party”. Before you could protest, he called his Sebastian to bring the car around. 

 The air was brisk causing you to shiver wrapping your arms around yourself. Jim wasted no time in peeling off his jacket and placing it on your shoulders. He winked as he lead you into the car. Your heart began it’s usual abnormal rhythm the one James Moriarty was responsible for. As the car moved towards it’s destination, Jim placed his hand on your knee, massaging it, and working his way to your thigh. You didn’t stop him not because you didn’t have a choice but because you needed this, needed him. 

“You are going to get it when we get home”, he whispered into your ear. Slightly nibbling on the lope, your body tightens and it feels like your entry being was lit on fire. 

“We’ll see”, you smirk. 

Moriarty’s Personal Space: 

 Jim walked you into his estate with a determination, giving you no real time to examine the exterior of the place. But, to your knowledge it looked as if he lived off in the middle of nowhere. Trees and what looked like a garden in the distant tipped you off of your surrounding. 

“Welcome”, he said opening the door, revealing a gorgeous interior that could only be described as something out of a posh magazine. You looked around in awe at the crystals fixtures and 18th century paintings plastered on the wall.

“Nice bachelor pad”, you narrowed your eyes at the criminal consultant. 

He shrugs bashfully looking at the floor, “ I don’t know, I guess it’s pretty nice. I don’t normally bring dates over”, his tone is child like.  

Rolling your eyes you can’t help but feel those pesky butterflies form in the pit of your stomach. “Do you always have to be a smart ass”? You ask. 

His expression drops at this and he walks towards you with lustful intent. He breaths in your hair, his eyes fixated on yours as he presses himself against you. Your body begins to boil with desire as you feel him growing underneath his trousers. 

“Let me show you my play room”, he says as he kissing down your neck.

You nodded in agreement, your voice caught in your throat as he leads you up the staircase. Moriarty's room was surprisingly warm and very clean. You thought it might be filled with gruesome sights and people hang from the ceiling or something equal as horrifying. However, this room gave the impression that someone normal slept in here. Which was equally as troubling to find. 

Jim closed the door behind. “Do you like it”? He asked holding your shoulders from behind. His fingers teasing the material hugging them, slowly crawling his fingers around as they dragged down fabric. He kissed the back of your right shoulder causing a slight moan to escape your mouth. Jim stepped back. “Oh I see I hit a pressure point”, he giggles. 

“It can use a new fresh coat of paint”, you narrowed your eyes at him, gesturing to the bedroom walls. 

He raises an eyebrow at you with a smile forming onto his mouth. “Bed, now”, he says shortly. You obey but never taking your gaze away from him. You sit on the bed lifting you dress that your thighs are exposed. There is a hungry look in Jim’s eyes more than before with just a hint of mischief. He begins to unbutton his shirt also never taking his gaze off you. Something dangerously sinister is brewing in his concentration but you feel far from in danger. He steps towards you whilst he works his shoes and trousers still staring at you with that famous Moriarty stare. You fish your arms out of your dress, revealing a navy lace bra that shows a little more skin than a bra should. Jim smirks as he slightly pushes you onto the bed and hovers over your. 

“Do you want me, (y/n)”? He asks. 

“Yes”, you reply. Biting your lower lips, watching as his hand move underneath your dress, pressing his fingers just at your entrance. You know your wet, you have been since the car ride here. 

“You are a bad, bad girl”, he says lowering himself closer to your lips but doesn’t quiet touch them just yet. 

He’s teasing you, you can tell but you don’t care at this point, you just need him if only for this moment. His fingers are playing with your lace panties, he inches his way into the side of them and just as you can’t take anymore teasing. He moves his index and middle finger inside you, causing you to gasp, which he catches with his mouth. His kiss is intoxicating, passionate and menacing. Biting on your lower lip, his tongue swirling in your mouth, the damn psychopath is an expert at kissing. He plays you like a musical instrument with the just the touch of his finger tips, you’re purring out in ecstasy. Working your way down south you feel every corner of this body, smooth except for the tiny ridges of his abs. You stroke his member and watch as he closes his eyes in pure pleasure, groaning as your confidence grows and your rhythm speeds up. Moriarty kisses you deeper and harder, pulling you closer he releases his fingers from inside you. 

“I bet you taste delicious”, he says. Taking his fingers into his mouth pulling them out with a pop. “Mmmmm”, he moans. 

Slipping the rest of your dress off along with your panties, he tosses them to one side. You tug at his boxers and he springs free. 

“Defiantly not bored anymore”, you say. 

He shakes his head in a rhythmic motion and smiles. “You’re a terrific alternative”. 

Moriarty places himself in your just between your legs, moving his way down to your breast, sucking at biting at the skin. This causes you to let out a moan in satisfaction. He looks up at you with a crinkle in his forehead and a smile that could stop a lion mid run. 

“I bet I can make you say my name”, he says in a sing song manner. 

You snort and laugh. “You’re on”, you simply reply. 

He continues to work your breast as he does he inches his way slowly into you. Swerving his hips in a clock-ward motion, leaving you yearning for him, your body crying out for gratification. You want to yell his name but you well this would mean you lose. He looks up at you again with a picture perfect smile. 

“I know you want to”, he teases. 

“I don’t think so”, you breathe. 

“Fine, if want to play rough, I am more than happy too”, he tone is dark. 

Moriarty thrust himself inside you quickly just enough for a groan to escape your mouth. Biting your lips hard so that nothing else finds its way out. He kisses down at your neck as he pulses through you, quicker and harder. Your back arches in approval, he shifts and hits a weak stop, causing you to form his name on your lips. However, you stop yourself before reciting the rest. 

“I always get what I want”, Moriarty whispers.

“Not today”, you groan. 

He thrust harder, deeper, with just a little bit of force. 

“Ugh!” You cry out in delight. 

He nips at your chest, frantically racing up to kiss your mouth, deeply and more passionate than before. His hips grinding into you, he knows fully well you are close to the edge. Gripping his back with your fingertips, softly biting his shoulder as he groans into your mouth. 

You think to yourself that you might just win against the criminal consultant. Until he shifts once again into the right spot, slowly at first but then he picks up speed. He stares into your eyes as if waiting for what he already knows is coming. 

“Uh! Jim!” You scream. 

Clasping your hands onto your mouth, hoping by some miracle he didn’t hear a thing. He laughs in triumphant, coming shortly after, and collapsing on your chest. 

“You owe me”, he breathes. 

“Shut up”, you snap back. 

“I don’t just place a bet on anything or one”, he says. Rolling over onto his back, he flips onto his side and places a hand on his head prompting him up. Moriarty stares at you intently before continuing. 

“I ask that you join me tomorrow night for dinner and a show”, he explains. His eyes have a serious tint to them. 

“Just dinner?” You ask. 

He nods with a grin, “Just dinner and a trip to the cinema”. 

You think for a minute at all the possibilities that could go wrong by daring to date James Moriarty. In his bedroom you see a different side to the criminal mastermind. There’s no threat, no true danger, yet you know there is, somewhere out there the possibility of this ending very badly. You figure one shag and a dinner date won’t be too bad as long as you keep your guard up. 

“Fine, one more date and that’s it”, you finally utter. 

“Fantastic!” He giggles. Pulling you in closer and nuzzling your neck. 

What can possible go wrong?