#AND because of that i have to get up extra early tomorrow because somebody scheduled a meeting and fuck 'o clock

[kohakuchuu]

At this point I almost wish the sun would just explode and put me out of the misery that is this godforsaken weather anything over 30°C and I'm DONE

[stressedlawsecretary]

Today's Focus

12.13.24 - So yesterday I should have done one of these, but didn't because I forgot to do my everything shower on Wednesday, so had to do it yesterday morning so I could be ready for the office holiday party. I so fucked up on Wednesday; we moved takeout day around and I was supposed to make a Bavarian apple-sausage hash but realized I 1) didn't pick up the sausage and 2) did not have the apples in the house I thought I did. I'm hoping today is a good day and my routine straightens itself out. Two days of being fucked up isn't good for me.

Work - Since I did not get snowed in (I live north of where the snowstorm hit) I am actually in the office despite the WFH provisions; this is because I know there's a mailing that needs to go out today and I have the accessibility to get here. I'm stuck in reception even though it's not my day to cover because Rena (this is her nickname) isn't going to be able to get in easily due to the snow in her area; lord only knows when she's leaving for the day, and the receptionist has phone accessibility at her WFH setup, but somebody needs to be here for mail/personal service. The receptionist is going to leave a couple hours early so we'll have to cover phones then, but we're also having a problem with incoming calls so fingers crossed Verizon doesn't get its shit together and I take zero phone calls all day. I have seen some of the renovations though, since the criminal side of the office is almost complete, and OMG the cubicle upgrade is amazing; I can't wait til I get my own back with the standing desk and the fancy monitor setup and shit.

Background Noise - In the office so heavily binging YT; yesterday my watching was awful between all the shit I was attempting to do - I did only about four hrs of my own on the DVR (instead of the average of six) and only three YT videos. At least I manage to keep up on the news.

Extras - It is Friday, so I have to clean the catbox and prep it for the weekend; discovered my poor girl has fleas (Idk how; they don't go outside and it's wintertime right now. There's snow on the ground ffs) so dosed her yesterday with a treatment to get rid of them. Managed to get 90% of the garbage in the house out to the curb yesterday, but it pissed me off so bad I quit and said the rest of it can wait until next week. I have frozen stuffed clams to bake for dinner, so at least that will be easy; I need it to be because I'm trying to watch four more episodes of OOO today so I can stay on top of my schedule.

This weekend is mostly downtime, but hunny and I are going to the Festival of Lights tomorrow before we settle down for some Rankin-Bass Christmas movies.

[vodka-redbull-daily]

December 16th, 2023

*Graphic Sexual Content*

W---- has had to  rent a truck for the past few days since his car has been in the shop and he was sexing me all day Thursday. since he's going to be out of town next week to visit his family in Arizona, he's been feeling extra spicy knowing that he won't go to see me for a while after that, even though we're going to be spending several days together in Italy all by ourselves. time is weird for somebody who works on 2nd shift, so even though it's technically very early Friday morning, it still felt like it was Thursday night when he drove up to where I worked.

whenever guys ask me for my schedule,  I usually tell them it's from 3:30 p.m. to 1:00 a.m. I do this to include any driving time that would take to get me to and from work because if I tell somebody 4:00 to midnight, they'll expect me to be on their doorstep at 12:01 or won't let me leave until 3:59 which just isn't going to work. so, it was pretty easy for everyone else in the parking lot to be completely gone by the time Wayne showed up.  not to mention there is a lot of traffic due to construction, so he actually got there around 1:15.

he gave me a few stickers to add to my car before we climbed into the back of the truck. it didn't take very long at all for us to be completely naked.  I crawled into his lap and he stuck his dick in me. The Thrill of the headlights passing by was unimaginable. the parking lot at work is far enough from the highway and any other roads that were pretty secluded; mostly surrounded by buildings that have been empty for hours since their work day ends at a normal time and woods. We fucked like that for a little while,  but not really too long.

we sat and talked for a little bit in the truck afterwards, joking about how wet the seats were from me and about how the whole  truck smelled like cum.  we talked about the Italy trip and how excited we were going to see that and we made plans for him to come back tomorrow, pick me up, and for us to spend the night together again. Friday was his last day at the office before he was officially on vacation, So he was perfectly staying up to all kinds of crazy hours in the morning for me. we joked about how I've completely destroyed his sleep schedule to match mine.

A nocturnal creature.

 a creature of the night.

  he picked me up like we had talked about and I had packed some kind of nice clothes because I thought thought we were going to go to a bar on  later on the day today.  we have talked about it a little bit last night, this little vampire type bar that I've been trying to get to for a while now. he said he's gone a few times and that it would be fun to go again.

 when we got home, we ordered Chinese food, he made me watch the matrix, then we went upstairs to fuck, of course.  I ended up riding him  and we fucked for quite a while in that position before he finally came. it was the first time he could actually came for quite a while, since he has that issue with finishing. he says he's got no vasectomy, so we ended up not using condoms for the past few times. it makes me a little bit squeamish to think about, but out of all the guys that have been sleeping with, I really don't think Wayne would be one to lie to me about that.

  a little while later, he fucked me again, this time with me on my side  instead of all my stomach like he usually likes. it didn't take him very long at all to come that time, and he even commented on how fast it was and how you normally doesn't come at all, much less that fast twice around. we fell asleep, then the morning had one last final session before I ended up going home.

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Hi! I know I have other unfinished fic, but I’ve actually been writing a bit, and you can blame @the-well-rested-one! I have five chapters queued up and outline for several more, that’s a good sign! Please comment if you read, or reblog! Thank you to @nikibi6 and @emulateharry for the looksie!

The One Where Harry Styles Sneezed On Me

Day One

There's only three people out on the pavement ahead of her, and a part of Elise is tempted to tip toe because she watches too many movies.

The streets of London are quieter than Elise has seen them since she moved here. She'd basically never left her university classes and not been shoulder to shoulder with wall to wall people. Her classes were over at rush hour and there were a lot of people in London at any time of day. Had you asked her before the move, she would have said she liked big crowds. But now, the tube sometimes gave her anxiety, a brand new thing, because it was so packed.

Today, well London was like a ghost town, like the film where she'd fallen in love with the city and decided she would study abroad there. It was an odd one, but that sounded like her.

28 Days Later was a weird inspiration, but maybe because London was empty in the movie, she was able to see things about it better. It was also why she felt like she should be extra quiet on the nearly deserted streets, this was the closest approximation to her favorite movie scenes she'd probably ever see in one of the biggest cities in the world. Elise had never been to a big city, not really, the largest was maybe Phoenix. But it didn't really feel that much bigger than Tucson, where she grew up, or maybe it had just grown before her eyes so she hadn't noticed.

London was a proper big city as her roommate told her, and Elise hadn't made it for a semester abroad. She'd wound up here for her post graduate work, she couldn't afford it during undergrad. The living expenses, turns out, were too expensive, but she'd found a way later, because there was a will, a dream.

Her will for today had been to find her way after class to the next public green space on her list. She'd done Kensington Gardens, Hyde Park, and Regent's Park. She went after class when she could, if there was sunlight to catch. Today was so pretty, she had decided to go even if it meant catching the tube by herself at night. And then she had stepped out into a London eerily like the one from the movie that had first infatuated her. There were people on the street though, and they didn't look like the walking dead, just the walking afraid. Those who had braved the streets wore masks. One lady had gardening gloves on. Elise wasn't sure if she was underreacting or everybody else was over the top. She hadn't really thought about it, mostly because she was under 80, and well, honestly, maybe she did feel a little bit of the invincibility youth brings.

Apparently lots of Londoners didn't feel the same way. Including those who ran her Uni. She arrived with her notebooks and excited for her day plans, resolute, to find a sign on an easel in the entryway.

"Classes Cancelled today. Online classes will resume tomorrow. All formats will be conducted via Portal for three weeks, or until further notice."

Well, shit. Had they thought to send an email? It may have saved her the trip.

Elise looked at the 100,000 emails in her gmail and discovered they had indeed emailed her. This was why she avoided online courses, she was much better, learned better, in person. Also, she was abysmal at keeping up with things via email. The next few weeks would be a trial.

She'd have to figure it out, and she knew herself; A schedule was necessary, she'd write one down, on paper, to order her life while she had to finish these courses online. But that seemed to be her only coursework for this day.

That was a bright side. She took it as a silver lining, she could head to the old London Heath right away. She considered walking, plotted out her path and realized that it was a long, long way, so long it would steal all of her energy to explore.

The tube was really ghostly, like the ghost town they visited once, Calico or something?

Regardless, she was surprised she wasn't more excited. It was just like 28 Days Later. Well not really, no bloodthirsty, spattered lurchers, but it felt eerie. Like it had the first time she watched it, before she got totally immune to the plot and could only see the sights. She was thankful when a few people got on her carriage, though they sat as far from each other as the spacing allowed. She quickly looked up more information on her phone and estimated how far away the people should be, they were all separated by much more than that.

By the time she got to her destination, she'd normally be just getting out of her first class, and Elise's stomach reminded her that this was meal time. She really was married to a schedule, or at least her biology was. She thought a picnic would be lovely, so she looked up a market and found a Whole Foods nearby. She would splash out for her lunch it looked like, could be worse, could be Waitrose, and must be cheaper than a cafe, surely.

London was pricey. Which she'd known intellectually and was now experiencing literally everyday. As such, Elsie was kinda thinking she needed a job. Was she allowed to work? Maybe on campus. She'd have to ask the question to somebody who knew; she was running through her reserves.

Elise kinda sighed at herself as she walked into Whole Foods. Maybe this was not the best idea. But it was bright and cheery inside and smelled like green juice and roasted vegetables. Her stomach growled and she decided the worst that could happen was she would wind up eating cup o' noodles and have to pack a lunch a lot towards the end of semester before her next stipend.

Elsie shrugged and sang along a little to the song playing overhead. She felt like she rarely heard One Direction here, she heard it played out more in public in the US, and wondered if that was due to public exhaustion. She understood that it had been next level crazy here. Maybe it was just time? They'd been her favorite when she was in early high school. She had decided she was gonna marry Liam in eighth grade. That opinion changed as they all aged. She got too cool for them, and well, some of them grew up nicely. "Just how fast the night changes." She tried to harmonize along. The song also meant she wasn't hurrying she was, however, wandering.

Fruit, she should grab some fruits, that was always a good place to start.

How she wound up by the hot bar she didn't know, but she grabbed a bit of roast chicken and realized the layout was backwards to the one she was used to in Tucson. The metal spoon clanked as she got some potatoes that looked deliciously crunchy and had little burned ridges like she loved. She should have some vegetables. Carrots didn't count, real green things were needed. Asparagus counted. She was looking at the cut fruit, but then thought about her budget concerns and headed over to the produce section.

It was a little emptier than what she assumed was normal, a few ladies and a tall, lanky man in a hoodie and hat were the only people about. He was broad from the back, but had a furtive set to his shoulder that made him smaller. He was also standing exactly where she wanted to be. In front of the bananas, her favorite of the economical fruits. The best bunches clustered where he didn't seem to be doing anything but loitering.

Elise's belly growled, the aroma of her roasted chicken wafted up. She'd give it another minute and if he hadn't moved, she'd try to politely shoulder her way around him, 6 feet or not.

She gave it two minutes. By the end her converse was audible tapping. He still hadn't moved at all. So help her, if he was on his phone! It was time for action. She came up to about his shoulder, and he did not seem to notice there was 5 feet of impatience at his elbow, at least he certainly didn't move. When Elise realized he was on his phone, her patience snapped. That had to break some kind of grocery store etiquette. Was there grocery store etiquette? Certainly, it would extend to standing so people couldn't access foods when you were fucking around on your phone.

She reached past him, "sorry, excuse my reach." she hoped he could hear just how not sorry she was. Elise was good at passive-aggression.

She heard his breathing change and was ready to tell him he had just been blocking the bananas for three minutes, and she knew she wasnt being socially distant, but he was being rude, when he turned towards her. He was being rude, especially by English standards and she would tell him so, even if she wasn't sure if he was exactly impolite, accusing an Englishman of that was very effective.

She realized two things when he looked at her.

One- he was not some stranger- he was HARRY. FUCKING.STYLES!

And two- as his spit splattered all over her face, he wasn't about to call her rude, his gasp had been the beginning of a sneeze.

😷😷😷😷😷

The last hour had been an absolute blur. She had just sat down to eat. And though her 16 year old self would consider this an upgrade, her 23 year old self was really sad the heath was not the site of her lunch, even if it had been switched out for her teenage dream.

Because Harry Styles had started his litany of apologies with a "fuck!" Then a spilling ramble. "I'm so sorry, dammit, I knew I should have just sent somebody. Dammit, Jesus fuck, now you will have to be quarantined too." His hands were fumbling with the wet wipes and she could smell the disinfectant on them. She stopped him short before he was wiping that shit on her face and was redirecting his hand while he was still talking about how they could just both be holed up in his house. It distracted from the fact he was rubbing spittle off her shirt very close to her nipple.

"I mean, it's not huge. Damn, I kinda wish the new house was done. Then we wouldn't even have to see each other. Not that, I um, wouldn't want to see you, or like whatever, but um. We don't know each other and we'll be, like, living together for several weeks. I guess you could quarantine at your place. But I just feel better, cause it's my fault. Seems rude to possibly infect somebody due to negligence, and not like, help them through it. I just had to have my celery juice." That part was said under his breath, and he wasn't holding any juice.

She remembered the closed juice bar. The sign had read: Our fresh bars-juice, smoothie, and coffee are close due to Covid- 19 contagion worries. We apologize for any inconvenience.

Then it clicked, while she wiped his sputum from her face. That is what he was talking about. What the?

"Are you just wandering around whole foods infecting people? You have the virus?"

She realized she'd been talking really loud and attracting attention. Harry certainly realized.

He looked agitated and around to see if they had an audience, and she realized his face was a bit of a liability. That would be some headline for sure. "Harry Styles spreading coronavirus!" or some shit like that. He used to get press for existing, the memory made her soft for him.

"Let's get you checked out. And we can go back to my place and talk?" He made eye contact and she got confused for a second longer.

"What?" Elise found herself saying. She would normally never ever go home with some dude in a store. But, this dude was Harry Styles, and that made her feel simultaneously safer and also like this was a chance she had to take. She also wanted to yell at him a little.

He sighed, like she was a hard to open packet of chips. "Can you check out and meet me outside?" He looked around again and bit his lip because the women nearby were watching them. He handed her his basket and helped her transfer her things to it, "Can you grab my things too?" He didn't sound like she remembered him. But she supposed she'd not done more than listen to his albums once through after she'd grown out of her One Direction phase.

He sounded better. He was still growing up well.

"Huh?" She was not following him. He gave her that exasperated face and thinned his lips before he quickly got a hundred pound note out. "Check out and I'll meet you in my car. I'm near the front, all right?"

She barely remembered checking out. The girl had to prompt her twice, and she'd shoved the sanitizer at her when they'd both had to touch the change. She even considered keeping. Can you grab my things too, the audacity! But she handed it to him promptly and he put it away and sanitized his hands and gave her a squirt too. Chivalry in the time of Corona.

The drive had been quiet. Though she was sure there were things to do, to say, certainly. So the radio played and Harry sang along. It was a surreal moment, right out of her teenage dreams. Listening to Harry Styles sing in his expensive car. The missing piece that made it reality instead of fantasy was that she was not singing along, instead she was confused and hungry.

"Here, I'll warm up your lunch." Was the first thing he said to her as he ushered her into the square house she recognized from something on the internet years ago. It was a little cold inside and Elise fitted her sweater around her shoulders and sat at the wood grain kitchen table. Her food came to her steaming. Then a warm mug she immediately wrapped her hands around.

"You cold?" He asked while moving to a fancy looking blue screened rectangle on the wall. "I'm always cold, so I just wait until someone seems too cold to change anything."

She nodded.

"Right, so you know me?" He asked like it was taking out the garbage.

"Um," Elise took a drink. "Yeah, I was a huge One Direction fan in high school."

He smiled at that. "Ok, is that why you've gone silent? Freaking out?"

"Yeah, and also, I'm not really following. Honestly."

"Why don't you tell me a little about about what you think is going on. Then I'll fill in my side."

She took a breath. "Can I eat my lunch first?" She needed a minute, and she was beyond hungry, and annoyed. Definitely annoyed. And maybe just a touch of freaking out. Harry was her favorite for a lot longer than Liam, if she was honest.

"Oh! Yes, of course." He shook his head, "how rude of me."

That was why he felt rude? Not the bananas or irresponsible shopping trip. Elise widened her eyes at her carton before she dug in and didn't look up until the blender went.

A green smoothie, vibrant and lush, was placed at her elbow. It matched his eyes. "Here, to your health."

"Thank you." She took a sip and smiled. Her blood sugar was rising and she was already feeling considerably better, though her odd situation and figuring it out came to the forefront. "So, um, to my health hmmm?" She cheered the air.

Harry exhaled and nodded.

"To yours as well?"

"I suppose you could say that." He pulled his lip between his forefingers and she remembered that from interviews.

"You're not supposed to touch your face." She ah, ah, ahhed with a grin.

He laughed and it broke some of their tension. "I'm not. Neither are you."

Elise realized she had her chin in her hand. She slapped it lightly on the table and sat up. "Fair enough, so what am I doing here, Mr. Styles?"

He groaned lowly and she wondered what that was about. She didn't let it sidetrack her though, she'd wait out his response.

He took a big gulp of health and Elise watched the chunky residue slide down the glass.

"You've heard of Coronavirus, yes?"

She couldn't help but roll her eyes.

He chuckled, she hoped at himself, what the fuck kind of question was that?

"Right, pretty unavoidable, yeah?" He didn't need her to agree, he kept talking. "I travel a lot."

"Duh!" she interrupted.

At that he really did laugh. "So, I travel a lot, duh, and I flew on a flight where somebody tested positive. There aren't many tests yet, they're rationing them."

"Even for you?" She was surprised.

"Even for me," he sighed. "I'm just a person. Anyway, the person in question asked for a pic for his daughter—."

"Likely story."

"Perhaps, and so, we were in close proximity and we shook hands," she nodded along with the line of his narrative. "They won't test me unless I show symptoms. But quarantine was recommended."

He finished, he'd left out a part though.

"Is Whole Foods part of the quarantine radius?"

He blushed a little, and all of the reasons she'd had some of her earliest fantasies about him surfaced. "No, not as such. But I was low on bananas."

"Nobody you could pay a euro for your bunch of bananas?" She hoped for a laugh.

He squinted. "Course, but I don't like to be a bother."

She couldn't help but laugh at that. "So, in your effort to not inconvenience anyone for a couple hours, you've exposed me by sneezing in my face, rude, and kidnapping me to your house? So, now I have to quarantine too?"

"You aren't a kid. How could I nap you?" This was not a joke, but the humor of it was not escaping either of them.

"Not what that means, though I've no idea why." She shrugged.

"Young lady napped?" He tried.

"Oh god, you are sooo English. Young lady napped." She tried on his drawl.

"That was terrible!" He shook his head like he was offended.

"I thought it was pretty good?" She popped her shoulder and her own little dimple in her left cheek appeared, though it didn't pull the weight his did. He narrowed his eyes before raising up his eyebrows.

"It was alright, I suppose. We have time to perfect it."

"Why's that?" She found herself asking.

"Well, we're pretty much stuck together. How d'ya feel about two weeks at Le Hotel Styles?"

He couldn't be serious, could he?

[fanbynature]

Obikin x AU /part 1/

Here are some additional things to know before you read the fic.

The ages of some of the characters are: Obi - 28, Rex - 26, Anakin - 23, Ahsoka - 19 going on 20, Plo/Shmi - late 40s, Qui-Gon - early 50s

The thing about the setting is this: It’s still in the SW universe, so aliens, planets and the like still exist and I am mixing it up with our reality while using some slang from SW. It’s set in a peaceful time period, so it’s just a normal living situation for them at the moment. The Jedi are going to have a place in the story but nothing too major. I hope this is not too weird.

I was hoping this to be just a one shot but I had to go and write something that is deeper than just some shag scene. I do love readin just plain NC-17 stuff but this ain’t it one. 

There are some warnings /non-healthy life choices, mention of non-con/rape, foul language, ooc - it’s an au what do you expect/

Obi-Wan is in a punk-rock band by the name of "Space Maniacs" that has been active for a few years but has not been very popular until recently. They had started to search for a better studio to record their songs because the home soundproofed garage of Ahsoka's dad, as nice as he is, does not scream "professionalism". Or at least that is what Ahsoka and Rex had been trying to sell to Obi-Wan. Honestly, he does feel apologetic towards Plo, Ahsoka's dad, for all the inconvenience they have caused even though the man had said time and time again that he feels proud of their tenacity and doesn't mind as long as they keep out of trouble.

And when Obi-Wan meets Anakin, the musician tells himself that he may start believing in God, because it's a whole ass miracle that the man comes across the band. 'Cuz if a guy that cute knows the band, is offering his very real and professionally equipped studio plus has the total hots for a certain lead singer it must be some type of miracle created by the almighty Her or that's what Ahsoka had been going on about for the past 20 minutes in the backstage area of one of Coruscant's' better known night cantinas they had just performed at. The cantina is called "Dirty Habit" and tonight they may have met somebody that will be beneficial for the future of the band. At least that is what they are all hoping for.

Obi-Wan had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the comment that the guy has the hots for him so he settles for a snort. Even if it was true the decision of having sex with someone that could be professionally engaged with the band, won't be a wise one to make. Even if Obi-Wan found the idea of kissing those plush pink lips and to have his hands go through those dirty blond curls, tugging them enormously enchanting. The younger man would make such pretty noises for him. Fuck, no. That is a dangerous zone to enter. He won't jeopardize this chance for the band just because of a shag. Even if it's the best shag he could have in his life.

The guy, Anakin Skywalker as he introduced himself 30-40 minutes ago to the band after they had finished their set made a very tempting offer that they can hardly refuse. He offered them a fully equiped studio to use for as long as they want for 30 cred each month. The band wasn't sure whether they can trust him because that seemed like a total scam, that in the end they would be the one that have to pay an enourmous amount of money. However he explained that he and his mother have a non-profit organisation that helps rising artists who struggle to find their footing. Anakin gave them their cards and assured the band that they can check them out first on their Infocache and confirm that everuthing is legitimate. He doesn't blame them as he understands the dangers of being a rising artist and the people who try and take advantage of that. The blond also explained that he has followed the band for quite sometime now, since they were still experimenting with their sound actually and choose to first observe them and later decided to introduce them to his mother and if everything with their donors went smoothly they would help them. And here he was, speaking with them, offering them a generous amount of help.

They thanked him, understood everything but came to an agreement that they need just a little bit of time and they will contact him back with their answer.

"Honestly, Nobi, I don't understand why we just didn't agree on it on the spot. Anakin seemed genuine and proper with his cards and polite talking. And not so polite ogling."

Obi-Wan glared towards Rex and flipped him off.

"What did I tell you about that nickname? Stop using it. It's annoying. Also, we should not appear desperate. Weren't you the ones that were yapping about how we should "behave more professional-like". I was trying to not appear like I was going to suck this guy off. And I am the one who is in the wrong?"

"He didn't seem to mind. Bet he would suck you off before you get the chance to do it. Haha" the young togruta tried to whisper talk but it was loud enough for the fuming ginger to hear.

"Seriously you too? Can I get a break from the two of you?"

"Whaaaat? Come on, Obi. I know you are irked because Satine decided to end up things but you seriously can't blame her or take it out on us." Obi-Wan was contemplating the ways he could make a murder look like an accident or suicide. "Honestly, you can't look me in the eyes and tell me that you didn't know that this was coming. Like seriously, it was not going well."

Rex was watching his bandmates from the side and was sensing that things were going to either explode soon enough or their lead singer was going to storm out of the room to go get shit faced, sleep in some alleyway and get him and Ahsoka in trouble.

"Ahsoka." Both the man and the girl turned towards Rex. "I think it's time to stop with the jokes and get you home." The lead singer's eyes filled with gratitude towards the bass player and he gave Rex a little smile.

"Oh, Rex, you too. Let's have a little drink to celebrate. We deserve it. You two should stop behaving like old men. You are in your freaking 20s. Live a little."

"Rex is right. I have to go to work tomorrow morning. Get off me and prepare to go."

"That's not true. I know your schedule, it's your day off." Ahsoka scowled at Obi-Wan with disbelieve and crossed her arms in front of her. The man was trying not to snort at the display off childness of their youngest bandmate.

"Well, I decided to take a shift. The extra cash won't hurt us. Especially now that we have to pay for a studio." He smiled a little and gave Rex a knowing looking.

"So we are going to accept the help?!"

"Sure" Obi-Wan turned his gaze towards Ahsoka, gave her a bigger smile and then transformed his facial feautures into a more irritated emotion “Now let’s go because your father it’s going to kill me.” 

-----------------------------------------------

Of course, Obi-Wan didn’t have an extra shift and Ahsoka doesn’t have to know that. It’s not like he doesn’t want to get an extra shift, the thing is he can’t get one because he has the maximum available shifts his manager can give him. Other people have to work too, you kriffin menace, you know that right. Also I am going to tie you up to your bed and not allow you to do anything for a week straight if you don’t stop bugging me. Obi-Wan is slightly afraid of Cody now. He was even thinking of asking him to help in another position but he decided against it. Maybe Cody is right but that doesn’t mean that the Obi-Wan is going to listen to him. He has responsibilities and he can’t allow himself to rely on other people. Even if that was the reason him and his father have become estranged. It doesn’t matter, not anymore. He is a capable adult who does not expect other people to do his work. 

He may start to search for another job.

The ringing of the phone by the bedside brought up the troubled man back to reality. Shit, Ahsoka. Maybe he can ignore that. If he waits long enough it’s going to stop ringing. Ah, yes. Silence. Then a massage sound.

DONT IGNORE ME, KENOBI! I know.... 

Oh, for kriffing....She went to his job. Ringing again.

“Shouldn’t you be at Uni?”

“Shouldn’t you be at work? You liar. You know better than to lie to me, Obi-Wan. You should have just told me that your old bones were tired yesterday and Rex and I could have stayed and you could have gone home without lying. Also I have 1 hour brake and decided to visit your sorry ass. Know can you... ”

The older male was trying to remane calm as he knew that getting mad at the girl won’t be a sensible decision. She was right. He lied to her but she didn’t know earlier and was probably just worried that he was exhausting himself and wanted to check on him.

“Ahsoka, can you please slow down. Look, I am sorry. It was a stupid thing to do. Sorry for making you worried.”

Silence.

“If you want to...” Obi-wan started with a sigh but couldn’t finish.

“Next time just tell me the truth. I may be young and have to experience things but I am not daft....I am sorry too. For annoying you about Satine and the Skywalker guy. I was just trying to have some fun. But it was that peachy for you. I should have known better. It hasn’t been that easy for you this past year and I chose the wrong way of cheering you up.”

“When did you mature so much?” the older man was getting filled with a warm sensation in his chest. Proudness. The proudness of a big brother. Even if they weren’t related Ahsoka was close to him as any real sister he could have had.

“Tell anything to Rex and you are dead to me.” the girl warned him with an exaggarated threat in her voice.

“Hahah. I think Rex will truly appreciate the way you are starting to carry yourself, the way you think and sense the emotions in other people. He will love this side of you as much as he adores the careless, fun and cheerful side of you. Rex hasn’t been around as much as I have but his brotherly protectivness over you seems to be stronger than mine.”

“Stop it, you are making me blush.”

“It’s very much true. You know that one time-”

“So when are we going to talk with the Skywalker guy?” Ahsoka seemed to be in a rush and cut off the sentimental notion that the conversation was headed to. Obi-wan rolled his eyes. There haven’t been any time to really think about it but it has been sitting at the back of his head, constantly reminding him. The sooner he calls the better for the band. However there was this constant feeling of anxiety that was washing over him. He doesn’t know what to do. He can’t tell his bandmates, they would think he is just not getting enough sleep or food. He can’t talk to Cody because he really had the chance to tell him anything about yesterday and Ahsoka was waiting for an answer now.

“How about tomorrow? If that’s alright with you Miss Ahsoka?”

“Of course, my leash. My very trustworthy Knight in armor or Jedi in robes. I don’t know. Choose one. That’s sounds fantastic. I’ll talk with Rex and come by your house after I am finished. You just go and sleep, you old man.”

“Stop calling me an old man.”

“You stop acting like one.” she said with a mocking tone and hanged up.

Oh, Force. Sometimes he wishes he has chosen a different path for his life. This one seems like it needs a restart. Hm, maybe he should have become a Jedi. What he knew from his father is that he is Force sensitive but when a young Jedi had come to speak with Qui-Gon about the future of his child he had declined the offer of giving Obi-Wan to them. They had a long conversation and had concluded that as an ex-Jedi Qui-Gon had the abilities to keep his son save and help him if there was any trouble. So in reaching an agreement of Obi-Wan’s future as a Force Sensitive kid he can say that he had a pretty normal and stable upbringing. Well, except maybe a few instances. Some of those were his own fault so he couldn’t really blame the people that came across him. He turned out quite decent in end. For the most parts.

However from the texts which he could find about the Jedi some things seemed more appealing than others but certainly they didn’t feel as they were too far way from him. He could have easily fit with the culture. But he loves music too much too give it up now. He loves Rex and Ahsoka as his own family and he doesn’t want to let them down. 

----------------------------------------------- 

3 hours later

There was a banging from somewhere outside but the drowsiness from the sleep couldn’t quite allow him to register where it came from. After a few more moments of banging and the voice of Ahsoka, Obi-Wan finally came to his senses. The door. 

He rubbed his eyes and yelled a muted “I am coming. Stop doing that. The door is going to fall.” He was still sleepy and couldn’t find his slippers so he just headed barefooted with one open eye towards the door and opened it.

“Finally. We were going to- Can, you please put something on ?” Ahsoka looked her friend up and down, unimpressed and passed by him to go inside. 

What in the blazes... His sleeping habit of undressing himself had acquired for the first time when he was hitting puberty and he couldn’t exactly explain what is what connected to. It’s probably the most embarrassing habit he could have developed, especially when the first time it happened was during summer camp with the freshers being mixed and him trying to sleepwalk to there in the early morning with his blader not allowing him to sleep. He couldn’t have predicted that there would be somebody else. He also didn’t know about the lack of clothes on him. With the years it got less frequent, thank the Force.

“We brought food and a holofilm. It’s the crime-suspense one we have been wanting to watch.” Rex tried to hide his smile and not to comment that his friend hasn’t been able to outgrow his adolescent habit. It’s not like everyone can train their brains to do what you want them to do, damn it, Rex.

“Did you come here straight from Uni?” Obi-Wan was trying to speak to the younger girl while she was putting the popcorns in the nanowave and just not staying in one place. He had two rooms + fresher and a balcony. How much more she can move?

“Sure. Why?” she moved to the balcony taking a pack of cigarettes. Obi-wan took the whole pack out of her hands and threw them to Rex. “Hey, come on”

“Not good for you.”

“Look who’s talking. Blondie, pass them back.” 

“I ain’t getting into the middle of that. I am just minding my own business, thank you very much.” 

“Chicken” Ahsoka puffed her cheeks out, signed and put her hands on the balcony’s metal barrier. 

“You should spend more time at home. I thought you stopped being a bratty rebel who didn’t like her dad that much with no reason.” 

“I did. And I do. I do spend time at home I mean.” A few beats pass by them, looking to the Coruscant’s landscape, basking in the noises of the city and background noises of Rex doing something in the kitchen. Ahsoka straightens up and turns around towards her friend, looking at the ground, playing with something in her hand. “I love my dad, don’t get me wrong. But sometimes there comes a time when you just feel like you have to split from each other and live alone.” A few more beats pass by “You understand better than anybody I know.”

“Of course I won’t judge you if you want to live separately from your father if that’s what you mean. I do hope you talk to him first and not just run away.”

“Absolutely. I am not that irresponsible, not anymore. I am sure he will miss me and it would be much harder for him than it is for me. I just need this at this point in my life.”

“I am sure he will understand. He is going to absolutely throw you “a goodbye party”. Or more likely “get home sooner” one.”

“Oh, Siths. Please don’t make me imagine this. It just sounds embarrassing.”

“Rex is totally going to get everything filmed.”

“I already know that I am going to kill him.”

Both of them laughed at the ridiculous situation. Obi-Wan placed his hand on the younger girl’s should in a reassuring manner. 

“Whatever you decide to do I am here for you one hundred and ten percent of the way.”

The togruta smiled at him and pulled him into a hug.

“Thanks, big bro”

“Oi, the sappy bunch, are we going to watch a movie or what?”

The other two rolled their eyes and returned back inside. While the two were chatting outside Rex had set the snacks and drinks on the coffee table and prepared the film for just pressing the play button. 

“Hey, look what we’ve got here. Can you believe, Obi. Our bassist is good at more things than just looking good, playing the bass and getting us a free drink.”

“He is sometimes good at repairing stuff. You gotta give him that.”

“Oh, yeah for sure.” the other two snickered while the blonde was flipping them off.

“Haha, you guys. You are a golden comedy duo. Can we now just watch the damn film? “

“Absolutely”

Halfway into the movie, Ahsoka fell asleep and the guys let her sleep on the bed and called Plo so he won’t worry about his daughter being kidnapped or something else. He told them that he could come to pick her up so it won’t be trouble for Obi-Wan but the younger man reassured him that it was no problem at all.

“So we are calling the Skywalker guy?”

“That is what you want, guys, right? I am not making that decision just on my own and just presuming your opinions.”

“Yeah, it is.’

“Then it’s decided.”

The two men were sitting on the floor cross-legged, drinking whatever was left from the things Rex and Ahsoka brought. 

“Do you want something stronger? “

“What do you have in mind?”

 “Cheedon whiskey. You know that is not my usual preference but someone who I used to fuck from time to time gave it to me recently as a gift for our good times. Amusingly he was there when Satine and I, well Satine to be precise broke things off. “ The ginger was pouring the drinks while talking and his bandmate was watching him cautiously .”But this is a great drink. Let’s drink to our future success. Cheers.”

“Cheers.” Rex watched his friend enjoying the brown beverage going down his throat and then looked at his own and sipped a little. Making a face because of the burning sensation of the drink. It had good after taste but Rex is definitely not the biggest fan of this type of liquor. He prefers his beer.

“How are things with after Satine? I mean I know you don’t like sharing the hard stuff with us, especially me. You sometimes talk to Ahsoka but you haven’t said anything. What I am getting at is that I am worried. We are worried, with Ahsoka. And we want to know if everything is really fine.”

Obi-Wan knew that Rex didn’t like initiating conversations with serious topics. He was usually there when you needed him, he doesn’t ask you a question, just stays with you until he knows you are ready to tell him what’s wrong. And Obi-Wan could sense the uncomfortableness in Rex’s everything. The older male greatly appreciated what his friend was doing for him and he didn’t want to just blow him off. He knew that it took strength to do something you don’t enjoy doing.

“I can’t blame her. As much as I want to say it was both of our fault. It was mine. I just wish she could have done it sooner for her own good. I was too much of a coward to leave her. I stayed with her just because I was used to it, but I didn’t really feel the way I felt before and it wasn’t fair to her. And that not being the worst part. Now cheating is what an immoral person does.”

“You know that wasn’t the full story.”

“Wasn’t it? I remember it differently.” Obi-Wan was pouring his third drink now and Rex was thinking of hiding the bottle. Or plain pouring it out into the sink.

“You don’t remember half the night. That is the problem. You are trying to take the full blame for something you weren’t even half-conscious to do.”

“But I was conscious enough to kriffing get it up and stick it up into a guy’s ass. Wasn’t I, Rex?” The ginger was trying no to raise his voice so he won’t wake up Ahsoka but he was having a hard time. He stood up, cursing under his breath, took his cigarettes and went to the balcony. 

Rex was blaming himself for even raising the question. He knew better than that. Why did he even try to get something out of the older? He never wins with him. His brother is better than him with that. Dealing with Obi-Wan Kenobi. Kriffing Siths. He begrudgingly went to the balcony’s door frame and stood there. Shifting his eyes between Coruscant’s view and his friend’s back. 

“Look, I know it doesn’t matter what I say, you are going to continue putting the full blame on yourself, but just know that. I am on your side. I will call you out when it needs to be done. But not when you don’t deserve it.”

“I wanted it, you know that Rex. I told you. You were there.”

“You were drunk. He wasn’t.”

Obi-Wan turned around with glistening eyes. Tears. 

“I said yes, Rex. I said it. I would-I would have said it even if I was sober, Rex. I know it. I do. I just-” the older male dropped to his knees. Putting out his cigarette and hanging his arms to the side.”I am just-just not sure anymore.” 

He looked up to Rex, with his cheeks already wet from the streaming tears. The blonde crouched down and hugged his friend. They stayed that like for a few minutes and Obi-wan spoke again, with a hushed voice.

“I think I am just trying to convince myself at this point. Not trying to fall apart. I can’t do it. If I fall apart I have to tell her. She can’t know, Rex. She’ll blame herself that she didn’t let me speak. It’s better that way.”

Rex pulled away from Obi-wan and sat on the floor across him, looking at his friend.

“You are kriffing idiot you know that. How is that better? Who is it better for exactly? Not you, that’s for sure.”

“Don’t say anything, Rex. Please. Not even to Ahsoka.”

Rex was wondering really hard how he could just prevent his friend from harming himself further than he already has. 

“I am not the person that is going to tell you how to live your life and what choices you have to make. That is your job. But I am the person who is going to be next to you until you want the help you need. Ahsoka and I are going to be here. Cody too. He cares for you too, even if he has “the though love makes you stronger logic”. Rex paused for a moment and continued “Your father will always be there for you too. Well, at least until you know. Nevermind.” He dies Rex thought.”Maybe things with Satine won’t be the same but they don’t have to be. The important thing is that you feel better.”

Obi-wan stopped crying and he was sniffling softly. Trying to get his composure back. He didn’t like showing his vulnerability. Even to his friends. He would start to think of himself as a burden but wanted to stop it.

“I don’t think I am ready yet Rex. I don’t think I am able to face it.”

“Look that is perfectly alright. As long as you don’t try and deal with it alone in an unhealthy way. We are here for you, okay.”

The only thing the ginger could manage as a response was a weak nod. He searched for his cigarettes and popped one his mouth. Rex picked up the conversation again.

“Truly the pot calling the kettle black.” he laughed a little to his friend’s earlier hypocrisy to Ahsoka. The older male looked at him confused.

“Huh? Oh, that. You know that I have tried to quit several times with no positive outcome.” He lit his cigarette and let out a blow of smoke.”It’s truly something I’ll never be able to fix.”

“Whatever you say, Nobi, whatever you say. Do you want me to stay more because the public transport will soon stop and the prices of the hovercabs are going up.”

“Nah, go. I am going to fine.”

“Call me when you get a word from Skywalker.”

‘Absolutely.”

----------------------------------------------- 

The next day came faster than he expected with the bustling city noises waking him up. He forgot to close the door to the balcony last night. He remembered dragging himself from the outside, laying down his futon and just laying down. Now he had a duvet, which he didn’t remember getting. Ahsoka. She is still sleeping. He realised it’s still early as Ahsoka haven’t gotten up and she usually doesn’t have classes until late morning or early noon. He wasn’t sleepy, which meant his day will be longer and that annoyed him to no limit. He grunted and pulled the duvet over his head.

“Can you please just let me sleep for one more hour? Your grinding teeth are really kriffing annoying you know that. I think you should really go and let a doctor check you out. You have too much sleeping habits. It’s not healthy.”

“I just woke up and you are already annoying me.”

A small heart-shaped pillow flew over his head almost hit him in the face.

“You missed.”

A creak from his bed followed by footsteps on the wooden floor. His eyes were closed so he did not anticipate a soft yet hard hit on the face by a larger pillow.

“I think not. Ugh, now I am woken up. Make us some coffee. You are the host. Be one.”

“Half of my wardrobe is filled with your clothes plus a couple of your shoes. I think you can make your own coffee.”

“You are unbelievable.”

A small scratching noise was coming from the window outside followed by a meow. Ahsoka’s head snapped towards the noise and she went to check it out. There was a middle-sized loth-cat. The cat’s whole body was white except a patch of brown on top of each eye. Which was now meowing in Ahsoka’s feet, not knowing if it could do anything else

“Did you get a loth cat and not tell me?”

“She’s not mine. She just came one day and I started feeding her. She comes from time to time and I give her food when I am here. She seems like she’s domesticized. She had a collar when she first came but not anymore. Didn’t have a tag or anything like that.”

The togruta had already started making noises at the animal and petting her. Obi-Wan got up, when to the kitchen and took out a packet from the cupboard under the sink. He passed the girl with the cat in her lap, went on the balcony and poured the food into a green plastic bowl. The cat run next to him and started eating. He petted her for a bit and stoop up.

“Okay then. I think it’s time you get ready for Uni and I am going to make us breakfast and then I am going talk to Anakin.”

“Okay, boss. Oh, there is something else I want to talk to you about.’

“Sure. What is it?”

“Um, I have actually started to look into some places where I can move to live. As you know I received some loan and grants before I entered Uni so I have some money saved and can live for a while on those. But I was wondering if you could still help me with checking out when I pick a place if it’s legit or not. You have some experience so I think it would help me greatly.”

“Yeah, yeah. No problem.”

“Okay, I have more to tell you but I am going to shower first.”

The ginger laughed to himself and returned his attention to the breakfast. He hasn’t cooked for himself in a while. Running on coffee and cereal lately hasn’t been that great on his health but work kept him from making healthy choices. Okay, he kept himself from making healthy choices. A soft meow interrupted his inner monologue and his attention shifted towards the small creature which was halfway inside halfway out. 

“Oh, water. I forgot. What an idiot.” 

He filled an empty jar with water and went outside to put it into another plastic bowl but this one was blue. 

“Here, little one. Enjoy.”

The man smiled slightly and petted the cat softly again, trying not to disturb it, then he returned inside and went to finish making the food. While the man was occupied with his furry friend the shower noise had stopped and minutes after that the young togruta came out surrounded by fog.

“You should be thankful I don’t ask you for money for the electric bill. Half of it it’s yours. Doesn’t your skin melt off or something. “

“No, Mr Freeze who would probably shower in ice cube bath. I don’t have your endurance. “

“I could say the same to you.” Obi-Wan sent his most mature response - sticking his tongue out which was returned by Ahsoka with twice the emotion. 

“What else are you going to tell me.”

The togruta got closer to the kitchen counter and started making coffee for both of them

“Oh. I asked Cody if he can help me with a job in like a month or two. And he said that he won’t be needing any additional staff for the near future but he said he can speak with some friends of his that are in the business and will let me know if something comes up. ”

“That’s great. I am so glad for you.” Obi-Wan set everything on the table, while Ahsoka put some background music to enjoy while they were eating. 

-----------------------------------------------

[notgonnarememberthis]

A Compromising Engagement - Chapter 5

Inspiration strikes out of nowhere but here we are! Honestly I got this idea while on a trip a while back. It’s been sitting in my head for a minute but FINALLY the ideas started flowing. Once I get conversations in my head THEN I know it’s time to begin writing. Honestly, getting inspiration for this was rough recently because I have a new fic idea that absolutely will not leave my head. I was trying to force myself to think for this one instead so I could finish a work first but that’s literally the worst idea when you’re trying to write something. Once I stopped pressuring myself, BOOM, idea. I also had to watch an episode to get their voices straight in my head again but that’s another story. Hope y’all are staying safe!

Watson settles into her seat eyes piercing the suspect across from her. The woman is eerily familiar to her, a pompous air that resonates from her very being. An attitude calling that she can’t be caught.

The case is a rough one, triple homicide with no solid evidence. Even what they managed to obtain from witnesses is circumstantial at best. The woman knows that without a confession, she’d slide by in court. Enough money for a good lawyer and an alibi that she didn’t trust. She’d been at this for an hour and she’s growing weary. There’s absolutely no security footage of her where she claimed to be. It simply doesn’t make sense.

A scream cuts her question short. She leaps up into action, medical instincts taking over as people outside the door call for 911. She grabs the door handle only for it to remain still in her hand. She tries again and again only for the realization to dawn on her that she’s locked inside. “Sherlock?” She calls to her partner who should be just on the other side of the mirror. “Sherlock let me out so I can help!” Her heart sinks when there’s no response. “Marcus?” Again, nothing. “Abreu? Coventry?” Nobody’s on the other side. Great.

She pounds on the door hoping to catch somebody’s attention. “Someone! Let me out! I can help!” She shouts. A chuckle behind her sends a chill down her spine. Her eyes flash back to the woman in the handcuffs, Elana March sits where the woman once was. A wicked grin spreads across her face.

Action settles into her as she pulls out the keychain Kitty gifted her for her birthday. She presses the blunt end against the two way mirror turning her head as the spike inside shatters the glass. She hoists herself through the new opening, adrenaline rushing too fast to feel the glass likely piercing her palms. She reaches for the door only for it to stubbornly stay in place yet again. She looks through the window in the door hoping to catch anyone passing, even in a rush to assist but what catches her eyes sends her into full blown panic.

Two cups of coffee spill across the precinct floor. Marcus is leaning over an all to familiar form giving manic chest compressions. “Sherlock!” All sense leaves her as she slams her shoulder into the door, trying desperately to force it to swing open. “Sherlock!” She cries his name, tears spilling down her cheeks. A scream rips through her when Marcus sits back on his feet, grief consuming his expression.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She shoots out of bed with a strangled gasp desperately trying to catch her breath. It takes her mind a second to catch up to her surroundings. A shadow passes across her room and her body moves unconsciously fetching her singlestick from her bedside drawer. She’s not quick enough, however, as the looming figure catches her wrist midswing.

“Watson!” Sherlock shouts, snapping her out of her state. He sits on her bed in front of her, worry etched into his face. She disguards her singlestick flicking on her lamp.

Her chest is still heaving from adrenaline as she tries to piece together what happened. “Why are you in here?” His brows furrow, confused.

“You were screaming my name.” His knees bounce trying to rid of the remaining anxiety in his own way. “I thought you were in danger.”

Her eyes close in both embarrassment and realization. Her nightmares had been recurrent since that night she stood up to Morland. They all ended the same with someone she cared about dead by the hands of someone she and/or Sherlock helped put away. This one, however, was the worst of the bunch. “You’re hurt.” His right hand is held close to him but she can tell he’s bleeding.

“I was doing an experiment when I heard you scream. I wasn’t careful getting out of it but it’s fine. Merely a scratch.”

“Let me look at it.”

“Watson.” He tries to bat her off again but she only looks at him. A look that tells him that she needs this right now. He obediently follows her to the bathroom for supplies and better lighting.

Once in there she determines that he is correct. It’s a painful cut but stitches are not necessary, thankfully. An apology is on the edge of her tongue when he speaks up instead. 

“What was the dream about?” She tenses not wishing to explain. Not when she’s had so many in the course of two weeks. He’d understand, of course he’d understand. The answer is simple.

“Make sure you wash this so it doesn’t get infected. I’ll go clean up the mess from the experiment.”

He catches her wrist as she tries to walk away. His grip is more gentle than before, his eyes begging her to talk to him. “Joan.” Her name makes her breath catch and for a moment, she wants to tell him everything. How she’s been extra on edge since Morland’s threat to remove his ‘extra security’ if there ever even was such a thing. It did its job, however, as she always brings her singlestick on cases now. She wants to tell him about how she’s worried he’ll take their whole livelihood away in one fell swoop. She knows he supports what she said that night, yet parts of her wish she could just take it back. Taking it back, however, would mean not standing up for Sherlock and that’s absolutely not an option.

“I’m fine.” She insists instead. It’s easier than explaining what he already probably knows.

He doesn’t push, thankfully. He only nods slightly with a sad smile. “Very well. I’ll clean up my mess. You get some rest, we have lunch with your family tomorrow, remember?”

“My mother won’t let me forget.” She jokes halfheartedly. He relaxes slightly at the return of the banter and it’s enough for now. She sulks back to her room hoping to reach a point where she’s tired enough to fall in a dreamless sleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sherlock keeps his eyes on her the next day. The rest of the night he’d kept quiet, listening for even the slightest cry. When none came he assumed she’d managed to fall into a peaceful sleep and resumed his experiment. However, when she came down the steps ready for lunch it’s more than clear to him that she hadn’t slept any more at all.

He makes no mention of it, only making her a cup of coffee before they set out which she gratefully accepted. She hides her exhaustion well with others but he’s more than familiar with it by now. With his habits of waking her up early he’s recognized her patterns at different levels of needing sleep. He tries to curb his concern when she drags her feet across the kitchen floor. He bites his tongue when she catches herself going to rub her eyes for the third time only stopping to not ruin her makeup concealing the dark circles under her eyes. He rocks when he has to repeat himself several times when she misses something he says about the experiment he’d conducted the night prior. She’s far too tired, is what he concludes. A type of tired where if they had a case he’d wait another hour before waking her lest he be on the wrong end of a snap in her exhaustion.

“You ready?” Her head lifts following the sound of his voice. He wishes he could give her more time for her coffee to kick in but they’re behind as is.

“Remind me why we scheduled this again? As if that brunch with my mother was bad enough now we have to answer to Oren, Grace, and Lin?”

“Come to recall I don’t believe Lin gave us a choice in the matter.”

“Right.” She chuckles dryly. “Let’s go.”

The ride to the restaurant is blissfully long. It gives Watson the time she needs to wake and him time to think. Not that he hadn’t done it all night but paired with the opportunity to observe Watson, it’s beneficial at least. She no longer seems shaken by the events of the night prior, also not shocking as Watson in the past has pushed back emotions for the lack of confrontation. 

Everyone is already seated when they arrive at the restaurant. Sherlock places a hand at the base of Watson’s back for the appearance but stays back when she goes in to hug her family. He waves politely pulling out Watson’s seat before taking his own.

Conversation flows naturally with the Watson family, all things given. She seems to forget her exhaustion as they discuss how they’ve all been recently, though she does order a coffee with her meal.

“I can’t believe I had to find out about your engagement through mom.” Oren laughs. Watson shifts in her seat a little only offering an apologetic smile.

“At least you found out through someone.” Lin challenges, “I found out via the engagement party invitation.”

“And she will never let me hear the end of it.” Watson shrugs. “Truthfully we were going to keep it a secret for the sake of professionalism and the danger in our jobs.”

Lin gasps, a realization hitting her. “Did you never tell Marcus?”

“No, we didn’t.” Sherlock provides biting the inside of his cheek.

“He’s going to flip when he hears about it. I mean, the whole precinct had a pool deciding when you two were going to get together but engaged?”

“They had a what?” Watson sits up a little straighter, “How do you know about this?”

“I’m the confirmation for when you two finally get together.” He and Watson both share a look of alarm.

“Did you tell anyone?” He asks, Watson’s hand grabs his leg under the table. He’s not sure if he’s grounding her or the other way around. The entire precinct knowing about their ‘engagement’ would complicate things in unimaginable ways. They’d already lied to Hannah at the gala. If that were to get out they’d be dealing with more than minor knowing looks from coworkers but actual anger and hurt from Bell and Gregson both. Dealing with wedding questions from family was bad enough. In the workplace? Sherlock can only grab her wrist in return in order to keep himself from spiraling.

“Of course not. I got Joan’s message loud and clear that I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone. Nobody has even asked recently so you’re off the hook.”

They both breathe a sigh of relief. He lets her go but Watson’s hand remains, though relaxing her grip. He’s caught by how natural the position feels. Simply holding each other was an action he’d never thought he’d find so comforting yet her hand just above his knee curbs his anxieties he’d been feeling having to pretend. They’re partners, afterall, how much pretending did they really need?

The rest of lunch is unremarkable at best. Discussion of wedding ideas fended off with excuses over how busy they’ve been with work. Lin threatened to plan for them and for a moment it didn’t sound like a horrible idea until he thought of how long that guest list would be.

He shakes his head when that thought truly settled in. How long had he been thinking like this engagement was real? Thoughts of actual weddings and Watson going dress shopping as if that weren’t something Mary and the whole Watson clan in general wouldn’t want to be involved with.

“I think I broke him.” Lin teases gently. He’s more than used to her at this point but he’s certainly overwhelmed. Watson squeezes his knee pulling his gaze to her.

“It’s ok.” She coaxes with a smile that could calm him instantly, “We’ll figure it out.” He offers her a small smile, if only she knew what he was trying to figure out.

When they say their goodbyes his hand reaches for Watson’s, his fingers interlacing with hers as they make their way to the car. Even as the climb in the back of a cab his hand covers hers in the drive finding the comfort he yearns for in the simple touch. He didn’t realize how badly he needed it until she climbed out when they arrived home and her touch was gone.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He almost forgets about Watson’s nightmare in the panic that gripped his mind for the rest of the night. It’s not until Watson lingers in his doorway, her face more vulnerable than she lets most view her as, that he remembers the encounter. She schools her emotions so well most days.

“Any new cases?” Her voice sounds pleading and tired.

“I thought you’d be reading your book right now.”

“I finished it last night.” She admits with a sigh.

“Unfortunately nothing. It appears all the interesting murders have taken a holiday.” He jests, “I’d say let's take a trip to New York City but I believe they’re not quite keen on having me back any time soon.”

“Well you did lick what they thought was a deadly poison and made an officer faint.”

“Anyone with a sense of smell knew that it was italian dressing Watson.” She looks away when he meets her gaze. “Are you alright?”

“Fine.”

“Clearly not.” She shifts her weight from left to right and back again.

“You died.” He rears back, almost shocked that she relented so easily. “I was stuck in interrogation with a suspect and I heard screaming. I was locked inside and I couldn’t get out. I saw you on the ground. Marcus just stopped trying to save you. Nobody could hear me and I could’ve helped, I know I could but.” He’s up easily and in two steps he’s wrapped his arms around her. Her hands freeze in the air but when he holds her tighter she relents trembling in his arms like he could make it all stop.

“It’s alright.” He whispers into her hair. “I’m ok.” He feels her nod into his shoulder. He’s more than familiar with these nightmares, however. No amount of words can shake that uneasiness they bring. “Was this the only one?”

Her silence is enough of an answer as is.

“Only me?”

She tightens her grip but he can feel the just barely there shake of her head. “We saw your family today. They’re happy, if a tad relentless in pushing us to plan our fake wedding.” He feels her shoulders shake: a laugh, that’s good. “Kitty and Archie are likely cuddled up together after watching a Disney movie that Kitty pretends not to like but we both know she’s a secret softie hm?” A nod. “As for me. Well, you can stay in my bed if you’d like that way I’m right here if you need me.”

She stiffens and for a moment he believes he’s gone too far. She lets out an agonizingly long breath contemplating his offer. She swallows heavily, nodding more distinctly this time. It’s slow, almost giving herself the opportunity to change her mind. He guides her to the bed laying down first, controlling his breathing tightly so as to not make the smallest move that could scare her off.

She looks so small as she crawls in beside him. This woman that he associates with so much strength looking so vulnerable in this moment. He wishes he could take her pain on as his own. He’d do it in a second if he could. He opens an arm making the silent offer to her. A small smile that he hopes tells her if she doesn’t need it she doesn’t have to take it.

He has to force himself not to stop breathing when her head settles on his bare chest where she can listen to his racing heart. Her hand comes to rest on the base of his ribs content to just feel like slight expansion and contraction of his breathing. His own hand settles on her back, content to spell out meaningless formulas and ludicrous patterns until she’s lulled into a deep restful sleep.

He listens to her slow even breaths as his eyes drift closed.

--------------

@tamarknott @averageinside

[mlovesstories]

Feeling the Burn Part 3

Warnings: cussing, teenage rebellion, angry Jensen and angry reader

Words: 2400

Summary: The honeymoon is over… 

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Masterlist of Masterlists

“Hey,” Danneel stroked Jensen’s face. “Gotta wake up, baby.”

“Why?” He rolled over with a whine.

“Dinner. I know you want to sleep but you need to get back in your schedule. Come on. YN made us dinner.”

“Did she poison it?” Jensen grinned.

“I did no such thing!” YN laughed and walked into the room.

“Busted,” Danneel helped Jensen sit up.

“Thanks.”

“I cut up the chicken for you. Bigger pieces though so that you can use your fork easier,” YN grinned, proud of herself and Jensen’s progress.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” He stopped. He didn’t want to cross a boundary. “I’m sorry, YN. I just meant it as a compliment. I didn’t mean to overstep with the nickname.”

YN stopped, thinking.

“It’s okay. I just haven’t been called that in a while. Recently it’s been bitch, preppy princess, or whore.”

“Who in the hell called you that?!” Danneel stepped forward.

YN stepped back, ashamed that she shared the information.

“My parents…”

“You know that not right, right?” Danneel said quietly.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Good. You are none of those.”

_______

Summer

“You can work your normal hours.  Four a day, but that’s it, you hear me?” Jensen told YN.  

“But I’m out of school, and I have more time!” YN resisted.

“Exactly,” Danneel walked into the stockroom.  

“But that means I have more time to work!”

“You don’t always have to be working or doing things, YN!” Jensen spat back.  

“You do! You fly everywhere and are always busy with the show or conventions, or-”

“That is not the same, and you know it! I have to do those things.  You don’t.  You are sixteen.  You need to go to parties and cause trouble with your friends.”

“Stop trying to do that to me!  You’re the one who started this stupid brewery anyway! You made the choice to be busy!  I am busy because I have to be sane!” YN growled back.  A staff member walked in to grab extra supplies.  She backed out quickly after hearing raised voices.

“It’s an investment- nevermind.  Look, you need downtime.  Everyone does.  That’s just how it works.  If you go and go, you will wear yourself out, kid.  You don’t have to be busy and away from the house.  Please, you have to learn to relax,” he calmed and sighed, feeling like he made his point.  

“Whatever.  I have to go to work now.  I’ll be home on time, jerk,” YN stomped off.  

“Go home,” Jensen shouted after her.  She froze. “If you’re acting like this with me, you’re not ready to be with those kids outside.  Cool off.”

“I am not going home!  This is the only thing I have left! Just leave me alone!” Without turning around, YN continued her walk to the dining area and out the door.  

Jensen wiped a hand over his face.  

“This is what happens.  The foster class teacher said the outbursts were normal.  Especially since we are through the honeymoon period.” Danneel walked into his arms.

“Yeah.  I think she just wants her life to be normal.  We’re trying to give her normal.”

“I know, and we’ll keep trying.”

_________

YN walked through the sand area to find some of her classmates at the lunch tables.  She smiled out of professional courtesy.  As she continued on, she heard them change their conversation.

“She lives with the owners of this place, I think.”

“The Ackles, right?  Moocher.  She can’t live with her parents because all she did was cause trouble, I heard.  She will get kicked out eventually,” the person laughed.  

Shocked, YN took a deep breath.  Tears sprang forward, but she held them in and continued on to take used napkins from the ground to the trash cans.  

“I think she just uses them.  Ever since then she’s had nicer clothes.  She drives that nice SUV too.  I heard that fire started because somebody had it in for her.  Or her fake dad.”

“Jensen?  She ain’t good enough for them anyway.  They’ll get tired of her.”

YN walked into the break room to pick up her personal items before going back to the Ackles’.  She saw Danneel working on her computer sitting on the couch.

“I’m going home.  I’m grabbing dinner for myself.  I’ll see you later,” YN said quickly.  

Danneel looked up confused.  After looking at her watch Danneel said, “Your shift doesn’t end for another hour.  What’s going on?”

“Nothing.  I’ll make up the hour or more if you want me to.  I just need a sec.”

YN walked out quickly before Danneel could object.  

Jensen stood in the foyer as YN entered.  He flicked the lights on as she tried to remain quiet.

“Dammit.” YN was found out.  

“You left your shift early.  Employees get in trouble for that,” Jensen stared her down.  “Why?”

“Emergency.”

“What’s the emergency?  I am your boss, remember that.”

“Let me by,” YN tried to pass Jensen.  He blocked her access to the stairs.

“You’ve been crying,” Jensen said plainly.

“Move.” YN tried to pull him away from the stairs.

“Ha,” he laughed.

“Move the hell out of my way!”

“Why?  You never act this way.  What happened?”

“I’m a charity case, let me go get my stuff! I’ll leave you alone.  Here are the keys to the Explorer.  Sorry I was such a shithead.”

Jensen’s body relaxed as he confusedly took in her statements.  

“What the hell are you talking about, kid? You’ve never been an inconvenience.  We took you in because you needed somewhere to stay.  Not because we are who we are in the eyes of others.  We’re regular people who try to take care of people they care about.  That’s all.”

“The girls- They were being-” YN stopped and dropped her things against the wall.

“What? Tell me,” he said quietly.

“Girls from school.  They think I’m a moocher.”

“Oh.  You know that you aren’t.  You try to pay for everything.  Even though we won’t let you,” Jensen smiled.  ‘It sucks when others misperceive you or make judgements.”

“Yeah,” YN whispered.  “I’m sorry I freaked out.”

“I wouldn’t have liked it either.  Plus, high school girls are awful.” He pulled her into his chest after he saw her body relax.  

“True.”

“Now, about leaving work without authorization…”

“I’m sorry, Jensen.  I really am.  I just couldn’t take it.”

“You work an extra hour tomorrow, okay?” He looked down at her to watch her reaction.  

“Yes, sir.”

He saw her eyes soften and a tear fall out of her tear duct.  

“Hey, none of that.  You’re okay.”

“I know.  That’s what scares me.  I’m scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared.  Just know that we are here.  Hopefully you aren’t scared with us.”

“No, never.  Just don’t like the situation.”

“Gotcha.  We do care.  We promise.”

“I think I need a hug.  Please.” YN opened her arms.  

“Come here,” Jensen reciprocated and squeezed her tightly.  

—————

“I found this in my cubby at work,” Danneel offered a piece of paper to Jensen.

“What is it?” He flipped it over to read it. “She’s a skank.”. Jensen looked up to see Danneel’s face.”Who? Huh?”

“I don’t know.” Danneel huffed and crossed her arms. “YN? Maybe?”

“But why?” Jensen cocked his head to the side.

“It’s just so random. But then I checked yours and found another one that said YN was a criminal. Outta nowhere. Who would say these things?”

——————-

FALL

“Hey,” Danneel walked into YN’s room. “You seem more tired than usual.”

“The kids have been more crazy since they are out of school. They throw sand at each other, or the parents just don’t pay attention. I hate being a parent when I’m not even their parent.”

“Sorry, kiddo. Do you want to move to being a hostess?” Danneel pulled out YN’s computer chair and sat down across from her. YN shook her head. “Has everything been going okay? You haven’t been teased or anything, have you?”

“Just what I told Jensen. That’s all.”

“Hey,” Danneel quietly walked into YN’s room. “I got a notification from that grading system thing that you got a D in your math test.”

YN’s face turned red.

“I didn’t study. I’m sorry.” YN stated quickly.

“Why do I not believe that?”

“I-”

“Your schooling has never been an issue before.  What’s going on?”

“I am sorry!” YN sobbed.  “I can’t- I won’t let it happen again, okay?  Don’t be mad at me, please!” The girl sobbed in her hands.  

Danneel saw how YN’s body rocked with emotion, her chest heaving.  

“What the hell…” Jensen walked past the doorway.

“Shh.” Danneel asked him to be quiet.  When YN realized Jensen was there, she broke out in sobs again.  

“Don’t hate me!”

“Where is this coming from?” Jensen whispered to Danneel.  “She’s not an emotional kid.” ‘

“She got a D.  She won’t even tell me why.”

“HEY!” Jensen yelled.  YN’s head snapped up and she let out a whimper. “Calm down,” he said quietly.  “You’ll live.  It’s one grade.  That’s it.”

“You don’t hate me?”

“No,” Jensen squinted at her.  “Should we be concerned?”

“It was the only time.  I promise.”

“I’m assuming you think we would hate you because that is a reaction you’ve gotten before.  Keep the D’s to a minimum, and we’ll be fine.” Danneel smiled and pulled Jensen out of her room.  

YN wiped away her tears.  

“Got away with it,” YN sighed, sad.

________

“Hey, I need to talk to you,” Jensen walked up behind his wife in the kitchen.

“What’s up, handsome?” She turned to face Jensen.

“I- I don’t want to come to conclusions, but has YN been acting funny?”

“Umm.  I don’t think so.  Why?” She put down her towel she was using to dry the dishes.

“She has been coming late to work, I know she’s also been staying inside the dining area lately rather than outside.  Dee-”

“What?”

“Money has been going missing lately.  I know she is saving for when she turns eighteen, so-” Jensen tried to speak quickly.  “I know I’m reaching, but do you think-”

“What? No. How much has gone missing?” Danneel pushed gently against Jensen so that she could read his body language.

“Twenty to forty dollars each week.  But it’s always during her shifts. I had the finance guy doublecheck.  I don’t want to believe it, but…”

“Babe, we can’t just accuse her of-”

“Accuse me of what?” YN stepped into the kitchen after walking down the stairs.  

“Nothing, sweetie,” Danneel tried to cover up their conversation.

“No, it’s something,” Jensen started.  “You’ve been acting funny lately, and we want to know why.”

“What?  I’ve been fine,” YN pulled at the hem of her shirt.

“Right, then why are you nervous right now? How come you’ve been failing in school? You’ve been acting funny at work, AND now we find out that there is money going missing during your shifts, so-”

“You can’t be serious?  You blame me for EVERYTHING that goes wrong around here.  I get that my grades have gone down, but my classes have been hard.  And, I am not failing.  I have B’s, thank you!  As far as the money goes, why would I steal from the brewery?  If I need something, I know you get money from the state for me, and I know you would help me out yourselves.  I would NOT steal from you!  Do you think that low of me?”

“No, it’s just that you haven’t been yourself, and,” Danneel tried to assuage the situation.  

“Get to your room.  Now!” Jensen stomped toward YN.  She shrieked and ran up the steps.  

“JENSEN!” Danneel followed him and pulled him back from the staircase.  “What the hell was that?  You realize you just sounded like her father who she doesn’t trust, right?”

Jensen’s eyes went wide.  

“I- I didn’t mean it,” he stuttered.  

“You better hope to God that you get to speak with her after what you just pulled.”

“Why?” Jensen asked on the other side of YN’s bedroom door.  

“Why what?” She growled.  Jensen flinched when he heard something hit her door.  

“You aren’t yourself lately.”

“What the hell do you care?”

“Did you steal the money?” Jensen asked plainly.

“No.”

“I believe you.”

Jensen slid down the wall until he landed on his rear.  

“I’ve been getting lower grades though.”

“You said your classes have been getting harder.  It’s okay.” Jensen said quietly.

“I cheated on that test when I got that D.  I got in major trouble.  The kid I copied from I thought had studied.  Apparently not.”

Jensen turned and twisted the knob on her door, pushing it open.  Both individuals were seated on the floor with the door frame in between them.  

“I felt so bad.  I haven’t cared since.  I’m just a screwup anyway.  It doesn’t matter.  I’ll be eighteen in a year and you won’t want me here.  Why should I care?”

Jensen lowered his head.  Looking at his sock-clad feet, he took a moment to collect his thoughts.  

“Because you know you can.  Sure, you shouldn’t have cheated, but that doesn’t mean your life is over.  You know better.  You can hold yourself to a higher standard and meet those goals.  This was one time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Kid. You don’t have to be perfect. We’ll never expect you to be. Have you cheated since?” Jensen stayed his question without judgement in his voice.

“No. Learned my lesson. Although I’d probably be doing better if I did.”

“It’s okay to care. And as a father-type in your life, no cheating. Again. Understand?”

“Absolutely. Promise.”

“Grades should be improving from now on, yes?” He raised a brow and smirked.

“Yes.” She crawled over to him through the door frame. He opened his arms to her.

“No more.”

“Punishment?” YN backed away.

“This happened a few months ago, right?”

“Yeah?”

“No TV the rest of the day.” Jensen shrugged.

“But an episode of-“

“Nope.” He smiled.

“Fine.”

“Small price to pay, kiddo. And I’m sorry for yelling. I should have handled that differently. Please forgive me.”

“Okay.”

“Dinner’s almost ready, based on the smell.”

YN smelled the air.

“Yum.”

—————

“Hi, what happened?” Jensen stormed into the prestigious building.  I got a call regarding YN LN? I’m her foster dad.”

“Hi, sir.  I’ll walk you back.” A secretary guided Jensen to a new area, passing the security point.  He saw a man with a suit and tie walk in the police station room, badge on his hip.

“Hi, Mr. Ackles.  I need to talk to you about YN…”

___________

FEELING THE BURN

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[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 55

~*~Sebastian~*~

I stared at her. Stunned. I'm not sure if it's how the conversation went or she wants me and whatever comes with me. Emma is so intentional. Her words carry meaning. She wants to be clear and asks for clarity. This is heaven for my overthinking brain. I’m not stuck wondering what she means nor am I afraid to ask. Because I know she'll answer. Really answer.

"I've got eight years on you, how are you the more mature one?"

"Stabilizing influence and frighteningly direct communication of my second dad."

The expression on her face and deadpanned delivery had me laughing. "I can see that. I'll be the emotionally reactive one and you can be the calming one." Then I remembered. "Although, Eli did tell a story about you laying into some guy in Hawaii at a volleyball game. Ed dumped you in the ocean. I wish there was video."

"There is. You'll have to get dad to send it to you."

Tuesday was a good day. Workout was hard and my abs were already sore, but we'd laughed a lot. Good phone call with mom. The house had come together, she was enjoying some time in the pool, and she'd picked up some piano students. My afternoon was spent in my manager, Emily's, office. Mostly she and I, but a few conference calls. I was about to be busy. The next six weeks I was more gone than home. I was excited about the work. Excited to see friends.

Admittedly, the timing wasn't the greatest, new relationship and all, but I was confident we'd figure it out. This is different. I'd like to say it was because my previous experience is whining and bitching about me being gone so long, knowing I was going to pay for the distance, and trying to front-load my leaving to make it more palatable. While all of those all true, the actual difference is I care. The emotionally unavailable hot and cold thing comes into play here. I put up a wall to block the whining and bitching, not really listening, because it's my job. Bitching at me isn’t going to change anything and I’m not going to feel guilty for doing my job. Well, I do, but it just pisses me off because I shouldn’t.  The expectation of gifts, dinners, or a vacation to make up for being gone made those a lot less fun. And I was never successful at cramming a bunch of stuff in before I left, because my work didn't start when I left. It starts weeks before. I don’t leave for filming for a month, but I’m already prepping: gym reading, watching things, research, and studying the script. I get pretty singularly focused. I don't know any other way. And when pushed I shut down. I don't respond. I brood. And I appear cold. None of this is right. Some just is. Some is my fault. Getting to where I didn't care about her (any of the previous hers) feelings and concerns with me gone was a side effect of shutting down and I regret doing that. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about her feelings. It was feeling ineffectual to do anything about it and my self-protection kicking in. Looking back, saying effectively “deal with it” was incredibly insensitive. Not proud of it.

But now, sitting here looking at my schedule I’m finding places I can find some time for us. We’ll figure it out. I can tell you what won’t happen. Emma won't whine where I block her out. She's not going to emotionally blackmail me for things, which will make me want to give. And she’ll leave me alone to prep, let me bounce things off her, or cook something to remind me to eat. I need all of those. I care how Emma's going to feel about me being gone. I care about what we’ve begun and how we'll keep in touch. I also know that while I'm away she will carry on living the life she had before she had me and be just fine.

Emma had practice tonight and a game tomorrow. It was after eight when she called. She was in a tank top and her hair was wet from her shower. I caught up on her day before leading into mine. "I have good news and bad news."

"OK." Emma drug out the word, wary of my response.

"When I get back from Canada, I've got some time to spend with you. Then I’m gone for the month of July. Fashion show, audition and meetings, comic con, then filming in Rome." Playing off last night’s conversation, I added. "I'm not expecting a bad reaction."

"Well, that's good." Her hand moved toward the screen and I chose to believe she was touching my face. "I'II miss you, but I’m excited for you. And me getting to hear about what you're doing. Living vicariously."

I'd had some time to think. I had a lot of thoughts on plans. This was the soonest.  "You get back Tuesday, doubleheader Wednesday, and I get back late Thursday. What's your weekend look like?"

"Empty. I'll come to you. You'll barely be home if you come here. I can come anytime Friday. I'll be done with work except maybe packing up my room. I can do that whenever."

"Early Friday. Thursday night." I wanted to maximize our time. "I have to do some work."

"I can amuse myself."

"Maybe the shop you liked so much will be having a sale?" I laughed at the way her eyes lit up. "July fourth weekend I'm at a fashion show. Wanna go to Paris?"

"What?" Her face moved closer to the screen. I’d surprised her.

"Not necessarily Paris, but near. The third is the show. Have you been to Paris?"

"Family spent the summer in Europe when we were thirteen. Then Pearl Jam tours. Love Paris."

"Not much more than a long weekend, but museums and I'm sure we can find some romantic Paris shit to do."

"I would love to go to Paris with you."

That was good because I'd already made reservations. "California for about two weeks then straight to Italy for at least that. Depends on how long shooting takes. Hopefully back in time to join you in Chicago. Then nothing until the end of August. Will and I had been talking about a group of us going away. We were waiting for my schedule. What do you think about a group trip and we stay a little longer or go off alone? It would be a beach somewhere."

"You going to rub sunscreen on me?"

"Um yay, part of my volleyball job. Beer bitch and sunscreen applier."

“I’m in."

"End of August is a Disney thing. Labor Day weekend is the Toronto Film Fest. Little stuff in there, nothing big. No idea past then."

She laughed, eyes wide, and moving her head in all directions "It's crazy like a tour schedule. I'm jealous. I love touring."

"I thought about Rome, but the schedule's tight. You wouldn't see me."

"I wasn't trying for an invite. I'll get some of my summer PD hours done so I won't have to worry about them. Make sure I've got time for us."

I leaned back on the couch, "That was easy."

She glared at me. "I thought you weren't expecting a bad reaction?"

I shook my head, "No, no, I wasn't. Just an observation. Thought I might have to talk you into the beach." I held it a second before smiling, "Not really. I do know it’s a lot."

"I will always go to a beach."

"You’re not allowed to play volleyball."

"Did you get the video from dad?"

"About an hour ago." I'd enjoyed it several times. "You're a feisty little thing."

Wednesday was a day of pictures and texts. After the gym, I settled in my extra room to prep. I had my laptop on the table, a stack of books on top of my script, and a huge bottle of water. I took a picture and posted it to Instagram along with one of me with a pencil between my teeth and pulling my hair.

Emma ~ How'd you get a picture of your expression during your last blow job?

Sebastian ~ Hidden camera in bedroom. You should see the other things I have. Coupling Season 1. "The Cupboard of Patrick's Love."

Emma ~ “You really don't have enough blood for both ends of your body, do you?"

Sebastian ~ Very good, Sally.

 Love that she can quote one of my favorite shows.

After lunch, Emma posted a picture of her in the middle of a group hug with her students. "I'll miss my munchkins.”  I sent a sad face emoji.

Then I fell into a hole. I got pulled into my research and reading and the next time I picked up my phone it was one a.m. I need time like this and put my phone on do not disturb. The only thing that comes through is two calls from the same number within a few minutes. Anyone important knows how to reach me. Emma knew, but she didn't. Not even when the Demonic Crickets won their game. She posted several pictures, but I got a much better one in a text. Emma with her back to the camera in her team tank, arm up flexing her bicep, and her looking over her shoulder smiling at me. The gold flecks in her eyes were sparkling and the darker ring made the green more intense.

Emma ~ Hope you're getting a lot done. Internally anyway.  XOXO

Sebastian ~ * 12 hours later * Yeah, I did. I'm hungry. Congrats on the win. Picture is beautiful.

Sebastian ~ You're beautiful

 Her thank you came while I was working out. After a shower, I fell back into my hole until it was time for therapy.

I'd been seeing Celie for a long time. Frequency varied. She had a dark brown bob, glasses, and a round face. At this point, I could read her as well as she could me. If she was looking at me over her glasses, she thought I was full of shit. No words needed. She was about ten years older than me and her style worked for me. It was a great one-sided friendship.

I took my regular spot on the blue couch, "How are you today, Celie?"

Celie smiled. She had the unconditional positive regard thing down. I say that, but she does genuinely like me. Most of the time. I can be a pain in the ass. "I've had a good day and after you I get to go home. You seem to be in a good mood. Tell what's going on with you, Seb."

I was always her last client of the day. Sometimes I needed more than an hour. "I am in a good mood. I met somebody. Last time I saw you I was going to help my parents move. I met Emma there. In a grocery store, if you can believe that."

"Sounds like you can't."

"I asked her to dinner in under fifteen minutes."

She widened her eyes in disbelief. Exactly my point. "Did you? Good for you, Seb. A complete stranger. What led you to ask her out?"

"I was all covered up and she tells me I looked like a rehab patient checking into the clinic up the road. But she was kind to me. A sketchy stranger. She didn’t know who I was until we were outside and I introduced myself. She helped me find the things on my list and we chatted." I put my hands in front of my chest, fingers splayed. "She felt good. I didn't know why, just enough that I knew I wanted to know more.”

“And what do you know now?”

I spent the next several minutes telling Celie the salient points. We’ve been doing this long enough that explaining isn’t necessary. She’ll recognize why things are important. My face hurt from smiling after I was finished talking about Emma. I stopped short of the whole conversation on Sunday.

“Besides the obvious early relationship high, how are you feeling about all this?”

“Good. Happy. Hopeful. The only concerning thing was Saturday I woke up from a night terror, panic attack. I got myself calmed down pretty quick, wrote for a while, and once Emma got up I went for a run.”

“Even with being happy, there’s been quite a bit of emotional activity. I’m pleased that you’ve only woken up once. Much better. What do you suspect triggered you?”

I took a deep breath, “Emma and I wound up in this conversation Sunday afternoon. A couple of my friends at the party had told her I wasn’t acting like I normally do with women, but more like I am with friends. This led to a conversation about my relationship issues. I’m not the same with her. She really doesn’t know that version of me. I think that’s why I had the anxiety. It was the night after the party but before the conversation. First time we’d been around my friends. I think it was not because I’m scared, but because I’m not. Like you said, there’s been a lot of emotional shit going on and I’m good. Remarkably good.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Emma is different. She’s incredibly kind and is . . . gentle. Not weak though. She’s strong.”

Celie shook her head, “When I think of gentle people it’s a combination. They can be painfully truthful, but their manner makes others able to listen. They have a compassion for others.”

“Exactly! I noticed she knew everyone. She talked to everyone and used their name. I asked and she said she looked at their nametags and you never know what someone’s day has been. That might be the first nice thing that’s happened all day. I know it’s a little thing, but it’s her. She’s like that with me. She doesn’t try to talk me out of being anxious or overthinking. She doesn’t think my insecurities are stupid. They’re all just part of me.”

“She accepts you.”

“Right. The more we got to know each other, the more we talked, I felt safe. She doesn’t do those things I usually shut down over. I don’t feel the need to protect myself. She’s very different.”  Celie was looking at me over her glasses. Uh oh. “You’re giving me the look.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Why?  I thought I was doing good. I asked out a stranger and got this amazing woman.”

“Sebastian, as quick as you are to fault yourself, you’re slow to take credit.”

“Take credit?” I didn’t know what she was talking about.

She leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees. “You think this relationship is different because of Emma. You lucked out and met an accepting, kind, gentle person.”

“Yes. No. Both. Emma is different and she makes me different.”

Celie made a loud, jarring beeping noise. This was new.

“Ok, I guess I’m wrong.”

“You are. Not completely. You’re not giving yourself enough credit. Any credit. You’ve worked very hard. You’ve read. You’ve journaled. You’ve talked. You’ve done things I’ve asked you to even if you didn’t understand or want to. I’ve seen you grow. To give responsibility for this relationship being different all to Emma is dangerous. What’s going to happen when she falls off this pedestal you’ve put her on? Is that going to be an excuse to shut down and protect yourself? Fall back on old habits.”

I could feel my eyebrows pulled down and the scowl on my face. “So you’re saying this isn’t as good as I think it is.”

“Not at all. I’m saying it’s got as much to do with you as it does her. Previously you would have never asked out a woman you met in a grocery. But that seems to be the furthest you’re going with how you’re different. I do not believe for one second that no other woman you’ve gone out with has been kind and accepting. Or would have been if you would have been able to show them you.  You used to do things to test them. You’d say or do things to see how they’d react. As we’ve talked, you weren’t being real, so you don’t know that their reactions were.”

I nodded then looked down, “I know. Pretty manipulative.”  I felt Celie’s hand on my arm and looked back up. Her face was very soft with a smile.

“Stop, Seb. You need to be proud of yourself. You are doing things differently. You have learned from your past, grown, and come a long way in accepting yourself. Warts and all. You have shown Emma who you are, even the parts you don’t like so much. She can have credit for how she’s responded to you, but you deserve the credit for being brave enough to show her in an honest and authentic way. That allowed her to respond in an equally honest and authentic way.”

I grabbed a tissue from the ever-present box on the table and wiped the wet from my face. Neither the first nor the last time I’d cry in this room.

"If you had met her even a year ago, with her exactly as she is now, this relationship would be very different."

"The wedding."

"Excuse me?"

Yeah, non sequitur. "I was supposed to go to a friend’s wedding last summer but didn't because there was a change in my shooting schedule. Emma was at the wedding. You're right. Had I met her then," I shook my head. “I wouldn't have been ready for her and now could have never happened."

Celie shrugged, "Probably not."

I sniffed and wiped my eyes, "How do I get her off this pedestal I’ve put her on?"

"You seem pretty smitten. Maybe not take her off, just lower it a little." I laughed and she went on. "What you do is own your part. You have been making choices to improve yourself. You have been making choices to go out of your comfort zone. And you have been making choices to let her know you. Emma's been making similar choices to be with you. I'm sure you know what she's come through to be where she is. It seems like you complement each other. Recognize this is both of you waking up and choosing to be with each other. Talk and negotiate what that means. Tell her what you want. And when you're not talking you listen. Listen to what she needs from you. The most important for you is to keep processing the feelings with her. She's the only one who can help those make a picture. And you need to give her the same gift. She has things she’s not so proud of and afraid for you to know about her. We all do. You will need to accept her and treat her with gentle kindness she gives you.”

I was crying again. "She told me. I told her she was different than the others. She asked if maybe I was different."

Celie snickered, "I like her."

"You would. She speaks therapy."

"I want to be very clear, Seb. She sounds wonderful and she may make you better. You sound wonderful and I bet you make her better too. That’s how it should work in a relationship. You help each other along. It takes two people with self-awareness making choices to do what it takes. You both have to choose growth, honestly, humility, vulnerability, and sacrifice. I hear you holding up your end. I’ve not heard you do this before. And while she may be the right woman, you've become the right man. Please, please, do not underestimate how much work you've put in to become the right man for another person.”

"I want to go home and cry for an hour or so."

"I wish Emma was here for you."

I shook my head with a grimace, "It's going to be ugly until I get it out."

"Yes. I think Emma would want to be there to hold you and you'd find more acceptance and comfort in that than you can imagine."

At home, I grabbed a beer, sank down in my favorite chair, and cried. I felt everything all at once but fought to untangle the threads. Sad was remnants of the past and dissipated quickly. Its friends regret and shame fought a little harder to stick around, but they were toxic and needed to go. Pride and relief were together too. Celie was right. I had worked hard. An infinite number of hours had gone into figuring myself out. There have been so many times I thought I'd be stuck forever. Sometime in the last two years that I've been without a girlfriend, all the work must have come together. In the last two years I've been filming almost nonstop. Five movies have come out. Two of which were Marvel circuses. It's like all the therapy (and the work that goes with it) knitted me back together while I was busy filming and living my life. Celie had told me to trust the process. I couldn't rush it or make changes happen before it was time. Patience. I am inherently impatient. Pride was for the work. Relief was for seeing results. Finally.

Next was happy. I’m in a good place. I'm excited about the movie I’m making. I have supportive, fun friends, and a loving family. I don't need a girlfriend to be happy, but one does bring everything together. I like having a person who is mine. Mine in the sense of us experiencing life together. The good and bad. I like that. I want that. And now I have it. The beginnings of it, anyway.

After I pulled my shit together, I wanted to talk to Emma. I wanted support. Maybe not support, but I felt raw. I wanted someone to soothe the raw nerves, to sit with me while all this new stuff integrated. I wish she was here. What I needed was a hug.

Sebastian ~ Can you talk?

I don't like that I asked. It feels insecure and I have zero reasons to feel insecure. I quickly decided to cut myself some slack.

My phone rang and I connected to FaceTime. "Hey." Her bright smile and obvious happiness to see me did wonders to soothe those raw nerves.

Emma's face went from a smile to wide-eyed concern. "Sebastian, what’s wrong? You look like you've been crying. What happened?" Before I could answer, she jumped to a correct conclusion. "You had therapy. Good, bad, or cathartic tears?"

"Mostly the last one."

Her hand went to her chest, "Ok." She picked up what I assumed was her iPad and crossed to the chair in her bedroom. I could see her pull her knees up when she put her feet on the ottoman. She rested the iPad on her knees.

"Mostly a repeat of what we talked about Sunday. Celie said I wasn't giving myself enough credit for the work I've done. My growth."

As Emma had alluded to the same thing, I expected a smile or some acknowledgment of her asking if I was different. Instead, I got, "What do you think?"

"I think I still need to work on not being so hard on myself." I smiled because that statement was me still being hard on myself. "When Celie pointed out how I've changed I could see it and was proud of myself. I can’t see it on my own yet, but I'll get there. I never thought anyone would get past my walls. It wasn't someone getting in, it was me getting out." More goddamned tears.

Emma reached out and touched the screen. "I‘m so happy for you. Proud of you too."

Her words felt like a hug. Close enough for now. "Thank you."

"I know you're a grown man, but I wish I was there. Crying alone sucks."

"Oh," I laughed a little, "the chances of us having a messy reunion are high."

"Why?"

"A lot of you and I talk today. I know me, it's gonna hit me when I see you."

"I should warn you. I have a strict policy that nobody cries alone in my presence."

I smiled at her exaggerated southern accent with the "Steel Magnolias" quote. "See ... gonna be messy."

[poetatertot]

It’s Not So Bad (In LA): part two

“So.” Wei Wuxian perches on the couch arm. “The summer camp seems to be working out.”

They’ve ordered a pizza for dinner—the sweet luxury of pay day. Jin Ling has sauce all over his chin, and greasy cheese fingers. Jiang Cheng watches him rip two pepperonis off the top and stack them in his mouth. 

“Yeah.” He sips his water. “You really like it, don’t you a-Ling?”

His nephew grunts through his mouthful. “It’s alright. Coach Xichen is too nice, though.”

Wei Wuxian lifts an eyebrow. “Too nice? How can someone be too nice?”

Jin Ling shrugs one shoulder. “He smiles so much. He makes us all share. He listens to all of Lan Jingyi’s stupid stories, even though he tells the same ones ove and over.” He scowls. “Lan Jingyi is stupid.”

Jiang Cheng snorts. “Big words coming from you.”

“What does that mean?”

Wei Wuxian cackles. “Uncle thinks you’re a clown!”

Jin Ling’s face screws up around his food. “But didn’t Wei-gege say Uncle was a fat—”

Wei Wuxian lunges across the table and slaps one hand over Jin Ling’s greasy mouth. 

Jiang Cheng swallows his crust. “No, go on, a-Ling. Tell me.”

Jin Ling’s eyes flick between them. “Um.. He scoots back his chair. “I have to pee!” He runs down the hall and slams the door behind him.

Jiang Cheng glares. “What bullshit are you telling my nephew?”

“Ah-ah, our nephew, a-Cheng!” Wei Wuxian ducks under Jiang Cheng’s swing. “He just needs to know the truth is all!”

“I’ll show you truth, you big, mangy—” 

They tussle, pulling hair and knocking plates until Jin Ling returns and squabbles at them for fighting. 

The next morning, Jiang Cheng wakes early enough to catch Wei Wuxian in the kitchen. Coffee brews from their old Kitchenaid, filling the living room with cheap-bean-smell. Jiang Cheng wrinkles his nose.

“I’m taking a-Ling to camp.”

Wei Wuxian peeks up from under his bangs. “Oh? Have something to do afterwards?” He frowns. “I thought it was my turn to get groceries.”

“It is.” Jiang Cheng fiddles with the peeling edge of the countertop. “I’m going to just drop him off and come back before work.”

They stand in silence for a moment. The Kitchenaid beeps feebly and turns off. 

A warm flush threatens to betray Jiang Cheng’s composure. He turns away, pinching at the behavior update Jin Ling came home with—a whole page of pen-written characters, signed at the bottom with elegant flourish. 

Lan Xichen.

“If you say so,” Wei Wuxian sing-songs. “Should I get those loquats you like while I’m out, then?”

Jiang Cheng thumbs over the signature. “I don’t care. You’re the one that likes them, remember?”

“Hmm.” 

He looks up. Wei Wuxian smiles back at him from the kitchenette, dark eyes bright. 

“What?” Jiang Cheng demands.

“Nothing,” Wei Wuxian says, but he grins into his mug as he lies, and Jiang Cheng knows he’s been caught. “Shall I pick him up this evening, then? Before groceries?”

The idea of Wei Wuxian laying eyes on Lan Xichen makes Jiang Cheng want to hide in the closest dumpster. Or move back to San Francisco. Or both. 

But he can’t be irrational. He has work; Wei Wuxian knows this.

“Do what you want,” he mutters, and lets the report fall from his fingers.

When they pull up to the Y—Jiang Cheng parks Zidian in the right spot this time—there aren’t too many kids. In fact, they’re a whole half-hour early. 

Jiang Cheng likes to think this is a coincidence. 

“Come on, a-Ling.” He pats his nephew’s leg. “Unbuckle. We’re here.”

Mianmian—because Jiang Cheng still hasn’t figured out her real name and doesn’t want to ask—sits at the front desk again. She looks up and actually beams at the sight of them.

“On time for Day 2!” She waves her pen. “That’s the spirit!”

“Er, yeah.” Jiang Cheng shoves Jin Ling in front. “Where’s today’s meetup for the 8-12’s?”

“Second door on the right.” Mianmian checks her monitor. “Looks like today is Morning Craft-Making! Have fun a-Ling!”

Jin Ling flushes an impressive shade of pink. “Thanks.”

The room in question is like a clown-house: bright tiles, walls covered in handprints, art tacked on every available surface. The smell of glue and paint hangs like nostalgic cloud; Jiang Cheng inhales deep and instantly is flung back to fifth grade when he painted purple dragons the whole year. They still have a few of them stored away. Somewhere. 

Lan Xichen pokes his head out of a cabinet. “Oh! You’re early today.”

“Yes, Coach.” Jin Ling throws his backpack into a chair. “Uncle said we had to.”

Jiang Cheng flushes. “I, ah. I have work.”

Lan Xichen nods—and then he steps out fully from behind the cabinets and Jiang Cheng has to close his eyes for a moment. Nobody should look that good in an apron and sweatshirt. He even has the sleeves pushed up, baring muscular forearms, showcasing elegant fingers and a cute little friendship bracelet.

Jiang Cheng’s palms are starting to sweat. He crams his hands in his pockets.

“Well,” he forces out, “a-Ling. Are we going to have another good day?”

“Yes Uncle,” Jin Ling drones. He wrinkles his nose. “As long as Lan Jingyi isn’t here.”

“Now, now.” Lan Xichen puts his hands on his hips. How did Jiang Cheng never notice how nice his hips were? “Is that any way to talk about our family?”

And it’s stupid. Our family is decidedly not Jiang Cheng’s family. He knows this, so why is his face getting red anyway?

Jin Ling peers up at him. “Uncle, you’re all sweaty.”

Oh my god. Okay. It’s definitely time to go.

“I’ll just be.. Leaving.” He points towards the door. “Um. Have a good day, Jin Ling. Lan Xichen.”

Lan Xichen smiles with all of his perfect teeth. A dimple pops on one side. “Certainly,” he says. “You too.”

Jiang Cheng is totally a goner.

He floats on that smile all day. Nothing can bring him down. Not when Zidian fakes her own death on the I-5 freeway. Not when AAA informs him there’s a waiting time of over an hour. Not when he arrives to work late, and then has to spend extra time cleaning all the bathrooms by himself. 

He has a dimple, Jiang Cheng thinks to himself. Oh god. He has a dimple.

He nearly drops his rag into the toilet.

Jiang Cheng floats on Cloud Nine all the way until he pulls into his shitty parking space and trudges up two flights to the apartment.

The living room light is on.

“Wei Wuxian?” He locks the door, toeing off his sneakers. “What are you doing awake?”

His adoptive brother should be asleep by now. Not that he follows a schedule—even with work, Wei Wuxian’s proclivities for late-night reality TV is well-documented—but it’s a Tuesday night, and Wei Wuxian usually opens Wednesdays and Fridays.

Wei Wuxian looks up from the table. “Oh, hey. Just..” He waves a hand. “Making a playlist.”

“At midnight? Don’t you have work tomorrow?”

His brother blows a raspberry. “It’s for somebody. I wouldn’t expect you to understand. Don’t you have, like, two friends?”

Jiang Cheng has one. It’s his brother. “So? Can’t you make that in the morning?”

“But I told Lan Zhan I’d have it done tomorrow.” Wei Wuxian sighs, twirling a lock of hair around one finger. 

There’s leftover pizza in the fridge. Jiang Cheng doesn’t even bother with a plate. “Lan Zhan?” 

Wei Wuxian has the audacity to blush. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he mutters, which means Jiang Cheng should absolutely worry about it. But then: “Here’s Ling-er’s report from today.”

Jiang Cheng swoops to snatch it from his fingers. All smiley-faces again. Whatever black magic Lan Xichen has at his disposal, he’s doing some serious legwork with it. Jin Ling never gets along well with other kids.

Another wonderful day, he’s written at the bottom. How lucky for Jin Ling to have such a good role model! There’s a little waving stickman next to his name.

“So,” Wei Wuxian says. “Coach Lan Xichen, huh?”

Jiang Cheng gives him a look over the paper that would kill small birds. “Don’t.”

“What? I didn’t even say anything!”

“Yeah. Yet.”

“You’re such a sourpuss,” Wei Wuxian complains. “No wonder you never get any dates. Your aura repels people from a mile away.”

“What does this have to do with getting dates?” Jiang Cheng can see the gears turning in Wei Wuxian’s brain—no, they’ve already been turning. He just happened to walk in right at the end. “Wei Wuxian—”

“Jiang Cheng,” his brother mimics. “I think it’s time we try again.”

“‘We?’ There is no we in this! And I’m not going on any dates!” He crinkles the paper in his irritation and pauses to smooth it out again. “You’re delusional.”

“And you have a crush on the hot YMCA supervisor,” Wei Wuxian sing-songs. 

“Do not!”

“Do too.” Wei Wuxian leans in, eyebrows waggling. “Come on. I would too, if I were you. Thank goodness I’m not, though—you’re bound to get premature grey hairs.”

Jiang Cheng’s eye twitches. “Do. Not. Meddle.”

“So you admit there’s something to meddle with?”

“Don’t you have a playlist to make?”

Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. “I’m almost done! Don’t change the subject.” He leans in. “Picture this: you. Mr. Hunky Coach Man. On a date.” He pauses, considering. “A good date.”

“I don’t want to picture anything,” Jiang Cheng says. It’s a lie. He’s already picturing them on their second date. And their third. And when they adopt a dog together after he moves in.

“Uh-huh.” Wei Wuxian wags a finger. “I know you. If I don’t help out, you’ll be a sad, lonely hermit for the rest of your life! Come on, a-Cheng. When was the last time you went on a date? A year ago? Two years ago?”

Jiang Cheng knows when it was. A cold rush of something bitter seethes below his skin, poisoning his already-failing mood. He drops his pizza on the table. He’s not hungry anymore.

“Try five,” he snaps. “Some of us have bigger problems, you inconsiderate twat.”

He sees Wei Wuxian do the math. The way his eyebrows raise, and then fall. His lips part in a silent o, but for once, he has nothing to say. Jiang Cheng wishes he could call it a victory.

“I..” Wei Wuxian swallows. “I didn’t—”

“No, you didn’t,” Jiang Cheng snaps. “It’s all just a big, fucking game to you, is that it? My life isn’t one of your TV shows! At least one of us has to take care of Jin Ling, and if it has to be me then I’m fine with it. I don’t need you giving me shit while you’re off making playlists for random pieces of ass!”

“Lan Zhan is not a piece of ass!” Wei Wuxian snaps. He stands, lips twisting. “Just because one of us knows when to move on—”

“Move on? Move on?” Jiang Cheng lunges over the table and shakes him. “How can you fucking say that? Are you listening to yourself?” He sucks in a sharp breath and lets go. “Forget it. I’m going to bed.”

“Jiang Cheng, wait—”

He slams his bedroom door.

The next morning is rough. Jiang Cheng hardly slept. His eyes feel like someone’s kicked a whole sandbox into them. His body aches more than when Jin Ling accidentally gave him the flu. He almost wishes he were sick. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to leave his bedroom ever again.

But no. It’s a Wednesday, so there’s still a-Ling’s summer camp to go to.

“Uncle, you look bad,” his nephew tells him plaintively. 

Jiang Cheng squints over his cup of coffee. Jin Ling blinks up from his bowl of Cheerio’s, the picture of seven-year-old innocence. 

“Thanks,” he deadpans.

At least Wei Wuxian already went to work. There’s no morning awkwardness to deal with, no avoidance tactics Jiang Cheng has to employ. It’s just him and his nephew, alone in the apartment at 8AM. 

Jiang Cheng looks at Jin Ling—really looks at him. He’s grown a ton over the past year, shooting out of all of his pants. His hair is getting a little long; Wei Wuxian will have to give him a trim soon. 

Every day he looks more and more like his mother.

Jiang Cheng wonders what Jiejie would think if she could see him today. Would she be happy with the way they’ve raised her son? Would she scorn them for living like this? What would she do in this situation?

A-Cheng. I know you’re not good with words, but you have to apologize.

For what? I didn’t do anything wrong!

Maybe not. But isn’t it best to mend the bridge before it breaks?

His fingers curl tighter around his coffee mug. 

“Come on, a-Ling,” he says. “It’s time to get dressed for camp.”

☁️

It’s Pool Day. 

It’s Pool Day and nobody warned Jiang Cheng about it being Pool Day, because what happens on Pool Day but the most beautiful man on Earth walking around in tight swim trunks and a tank-top? With sunglasses? 

His long hair is twisted into a messy bun. His arms are defined enough to make a sculptor weep. And his collarbones— 

Jiang Cheng likes to think he isn’t a weak man, but sometimes? There are exceptions.

“Coach!” Jin Ling shrieks. “Look at my swim trunks!” 

They’re bright yellow with little elephants. Lan Xichen beams.

“They suit you,” he says. “Very bright. Just like you!”

Jin Ling smiles wide enough to practically close his eyes. He tosses his backpack aside and immediately makes for the group of kids in the warm-up zone. In a moment, he’s merged into their group entirely.

It makes Jiang Cheng proud. He doesn’t know what Lan Xichen’s done to improve his nephew’s behavior, but it makes Jiang Cheng hopeful for second grade. He wants Jin Ling to grow up surrounded by love, by friends and affection. Seeing him do warm-up stretches with the other kids gives Jiang Cheng light.

Lan Xichen turns the loveliest shade of pink when Jiang Cheng tells him this. He even blushes all the way down his chest. Jiang Cheng is utterly delighted.

“I’m just doing my best,” Lan Xichen says. His honesty warms Jiang Cheng all the way to his toes. “I want them to feel like they’re really part of a family.”

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng breathes. He follows Lan Xichen’s gaze to the group of laughing, smiling children. “I know what you mean.”

[beca-mitchell]

Swiped Right (Hey, We Got a Good Thing) (1/1)

Summary: There has to be a rule about mixing Tinder with business. Rated M/E for sex.

A/N: For a donor to my birthday fundraiser. You didn’t send a prompt, but there wasn’t any way I was going to let you off the hook for this. There were rules! I know how much you love your AUs! Sooo, here’s a 3.1k smutty mess of coworkers and Tinder.

Thank you to my beta @cptkrieger.

The title (and maybe a bit of the premise) is inspired by "Digital Love" by Digital Farm Animals, feat. Hailee Steinfeld.

Word count: 3,159

Read on AO3 or below.

– – – – –

Beca wakes up in her bed, cold and alone. It was extremely tempting to take Chloe up on her offer – a very generous offer – to stay over again. She had promised that Beca wouldn’t be late for her first day of work, but Beca had thought of how beautiful Chloe’s apartment had been, compared to the clanging pipes and shoddy handiwork of her own charming little apartment. Nothing like the clean white walls and glass windows of Chloe’s high-rise in midtown.

She never did figure out what Chloe did for a job. There was not really a lot of room for talking. Thank you, Tinder, Beca thinks.

In any case, if she took Chloe up on her offer, it was likely that Beca would have been very late to work, to say the least. So she settled on declining, but promising to call Chloe again – probably over the weekend – so they could schedule another date. Hopefully with more eating food and getting to know each other and less–

Well. It wasn’t like she didn’t get to know Chloe. She vividly recalls the way Chloe’s skin felt beneath her hands, as inch-by-inch, Chloe slowly revealed more and more skin, right down to the gorgeous and likely expensive black lace lingerie set. Beca had fun peeling that off Chloe’s body. She had even more fun figuring out what sounds Chloe could make with Beca’s tongue buried as far as it could go in Chloe’s wet cunt.

Fuck.

Beca jolts, not realizing she had nodded off. She attempts to rid herself of the last vestiges of Chloe’s moans from her brain and fumbles for her phone on the bedside table. Peering at the time, she is relieved to see that she is still “early” by her standards and there is more than enough time to make herself presentable.

Upon catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she is horrified to see the fading hickey on her neck like a reminder of two nights ago. She had hoped it would fade in time, but as persistently as Chloe had been in bringing Beca to orgasm not once, not twice, but three times in one go, her hickeys appear to be equally persistent.

“Damn it,” Beca mutters. She prods at the bruised skin, relieved to note it isn’t particularly tender. She would prefer not to have to waste time on extra make-up, but she figures it wouldn’t be professional if her new boss had to stare at the evidence of Beca’s fun weekend all day. Beca doesn’t really know who her boss is as of yet, just that she is a woman who apparently would prefer if Beca referred to her as “Miss Beale” on the job. The other assistant and HR manager who interviewed Beca all those weeks ago had seemed fairly terrified yet completely in awe of their tyrant boss. Beca enjoys imagining what this woman will be like. On some days, she has slicked back hair and black suits for days. On others, she’s elderly and stern, with glasses persistently perched on the bridge of her nose. Most other days, she’s faceless and Beca resigns herself to her own curiosity. 

This is a job, like any other. Enough to placate her father while she works on her music. The extra money will help even if Beca thinks her YouTube money is more than enough for the moment. Alas, New York is expensive.

Holding up her concealer, she sighs and begins to get ready for her first day of work.

 – – – – – – – – – –

 Chloe Beale is having a Bad Monday Morning. Typically her New York mornings are far from pleasant, especially considering she works in midtown. The short walk from her apartment to the office means that she has to interact with at least ten people. ‘Interact’ is a little loose. Depending on the day, she passes at least four catcallers, at least two people trying to sell her on some cause or another, and at least twenty tourists. For whatever reason, today is even worse.

It likely might be that she had to get herself off the previous night because she had sorely missed her last bedmate. She is not typically one to resign herself to lusting over bed-warmers and Tinder dates, but Beca had been something different. Somebody special, she’s sure of it. Even while she had been steadily fucking Beca from behind, firmly rocking her fingers deeper through Beca’s folds and Beca had been an incoherent sobbing mess, Chloe had somehow wanted nothing more than to curl up with this woman and learn more about her life. Beca had been remarkably interesting over drinks – bright eyed and passionate in a way that sparked something new and something old in Chloe.

She missed passion.

It also didn’t help that Beca had been amenable to sleepy morning sex the next day. As the sunlight peeked through Chloe’s automatic curtains and she had tangled her fingers into Beca’s hair, it had felt like the most stability in a long time. Like warmth that had nothing to do with the way the sunlight began to stream in.

“I’ll see you again, right?” Chloe had asked, trying not to sound desperate. “I...had fun, honestly.”

Beca had softened and pulled her scarf around herself – a beautiful vintage scarf, passed down from her mother – before nodding. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Tonight?” Chloe had tried hopefully. “We can...we can get dinner this time,” she said. She had blushed a little at the way Beca’s eyes track down her barely clothed body. She had tossed on an old t-shirt and tiny shorts to whip up a quick mug of coffee for Beca before she left. “You can uh,” she cleared her throat. “Totally stay over again, if that’s what you want.”

Beca’s face had fallen. “Maybe not tonight. I have work tomorrow.” She wrinkled her nose. “I heard you should be...early for your first day of work at a new job. Something like that anyway.”

Chloe sighs at the memory and tries not to think about the slow heat building in her chest and between her legs. Beca had kissed her goodbye – one of the sweetest and most tender kisses Chloe had ever experienced in her life.

“Good morning to you too,” Aubrey greets when Chloe brushes past her on the way out of the elevator. “We have that big quarterly report due at the end of this week. Don’t forget, Chloe.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Chloe calls back. She makes a beeline for her office, hoping against hope that Gabrielle has remembered to at least get her coffee early today. 

“Here you go, Ms. Beale,” Gabrielle chimes in from her left suddenly, nearly making Chloe drop her handbag. “Soy latte?”

“Thank you,” Chloe murmurs gratefully. She accepts the cup, pleased by the warmth in her hand. “Agenda?”

“Nothing too heavy until around eleven. Harris wants to see you about the campaign we’re going to start up soon for the Superbowl. Oh, and your new assistant starts today.”

Chloe blinks. “Aren’t you my new assistant?”

“Well...another new assistant?” Gabrielle tries. “We need more talented hands on board, I guess.”

Talented hands.

Chloe is thrown into another memory, unbidden. She sighs heavily and settles into her chair. “Okay, just...give me a moment. Can you print out copies of the contract?”

“Sure thing.”

On that ridiculously-chipper-for-a-Monday note, Chloe rests her chin on her palm and slips into her memory more fully, wondering if this is bordering on desperation. Or if she is so past the desperate line that it doesn’t really even matter.

 – – – – – – – – – –

  Beca's hands are everywhere. “Talented hands,” Chloe had joked earlier in the evening over drinks, when Beca had explained that she was a musician and struggling producer.

She is decidedly not laughing now as Beca’s hands slide down her shoulder blades, like determined little caresses. Hands on her hips, her ass, grabbing her thighs. Everywhere all at once, like Beca can’t quite decide which part of Chloe she wants to hold on to, so she pays every inch of skin equal attention.

The sensation makes Chloe’s head spin. She has to gasp for air and pull away from their kiss so she can just take a moment to take in Beca. Beca, lying beneath her, chest heaving. Chloe bites her lip, sitting up more fully astride Beca’s narrow hips. Boldly, she rests her palms on Beca’s nipples, shivering a little when they press back insistently against her hand. Beca whimpers, the sound escaping past kiss-swollen lips.

“Touch me,” Beca rasps. “Please.”

Chloe pouts. “I want you to touch me.”

There is something in the way Beca succumbs to obedience. The way she draws her lower lip between her teeth and runs her hands up Chloe’s thighs in a faux-soothing manner. Her thumbs begin to dip further down, nearing the place where Chloe aches for her. Where she is wet and smearing traces of her own arousal across Beca’s lower belly.

And all because Beca touched her when asked.

Talented hands, indeed. 

– – – – – – – – – –

“Your new assistant is here.”

“Send them in,” Chloe says distractedly. She sighs when the door creaks open again and stands from her desk. Gabrielle moves to sit in the corner of her office while–

Beca ?

Chloe barely stops herself from saying Beca’s name aloud.

Because she’s there. She is literally standing there, wearing a cute scarf and jacket. Her hair is up, which is different, but not unpleasant.

Oh crap, Chloe thinks, as her Monday spirals to new depths.

“Hi,” Beca says, more timid than Chloe remembers her.

(It has nothing to do with how Beca had rigorously chanted her name, back arched and head tilted back.)

“Who are you?” Chloe blurts before her brain can really reconnect with her mouth.

A million images must pass through both their minds. She can see it on Beca’s face.

Beca glances quickly at Gabrielle. “I’m your...new assistant.” She blinks. “Beca. Beca Mitchell.”

Each step Chloe takes towards Beca is another step closer to the person who has been on her mind for the last forty-eight hours at least. Though the blazer isn’t quite the leather jacket Beca had sported over her pretty red dress, this look is equally appealing.

“Nice to meet you, Beca,” Chloe says as steadily as she can. Beca reaches out to shake her hand, her eyes darting around Chloe’s face with a kind of nervous energy. “I can tell we’re going to work so well together.”

 – – – – – – – – – –

 “So,” Chloe says once she has collected herself. She moves to stand by Beca at the counter in the thankfully empty kitchenette area. She watches Beca fumble with the Keurig cup she had been holding and gives her a moment to compose herself. When Beca turns to face her, Chloe is struck by how beautifully blue Beca’s eyes are. “Am I going to see you again?”

“I’ll text you,” Beca replies, but it is light and playful. “Uh, why didn’t you tell me you worked here? I could have asked for a transfer or something if we had, I don’t know. Figured this out earlier.” Her eyes flit everywhere across Chloe’s face, lingering on her eyes, then her lips.

Chloe’s heart races. “Is there a reason why...you would need to transfer?”

Beca’s brow furrows like she is attempting to figure Chloe out. “Uh, because...isn’t this a conflict of interest? Or like. Is there a rule about having fucked your boss?”

“Who was doing the fucking?” Chloe asks before she can help herself.

Beca’s eyes widen almost comically, then she seems to relax. The tiniest of smirks spreads across her lips. “I think it was pretty even.”

Beca looks so smug. Chloe kind of just wants to kiss that smug expression right off her face.

Beca takes her staring as something else. “Oh shit,” she says quickly. “Am I going to be fired? Like, actually fired?”

Chloe shakes her head quickly. “No, just. We’ll figure something out.” She glances down at Beca’s hand and reaches out to graze the back of her hand with her fingers. “I...do want to see you again. And we probably shouldn’t be working so closely together. But I’ll figure it out, I promise.”

Beca relaxes at that. Her entire body softens and sags. It is completely adorable. She adjusts her scarf nervously – the same one she wore on their date, Chloe notes with delight – and nods. “Okay, I trust you. And I do want to have another date. WIth more talking and stuff. But I wouldn’t be opposed to...staying over again,” she mumbles. “If that’s appropriate for me to say, Ms. Beale.”

Chloe’s eyes flash. “Meet me at the bathroom on the fifteenth floor. The one at the end of the West hallway.” She checks her watch. “At around two-thirty.” 

Beca swallows. “Uh, sure.” She tries not to nod too eagerly. “Sure, two-thirty. You got it, boss.”

Chloe straightens and part of her professional mask slips back across her face. “Meanwhile, I’ve got some work for you to do.”

 – – – – – – – – – –

 It ends up being very difficult for Beca to focus on anything, really. Not while Chloe leans over her shoulder. Despite the appropriate distance, Beca still catches a whiff of Chloe’s perfume. She can still feel her body heat radiating against her shoulder.

Chloe’s slender fingers pointing out specific folders and charts on the company server.

A quick glance at the way Chloe’s lips twitch into somewhat of a smirk – an impressive smirk, Beca would know – and Beca knows Chloe is playing with her.

 – – – – – – – – – –

  Beca thinks that Chloe’s laugh – her giggle – is the prettiest sound she’s ever heard. She watches in awe as Chloe slumps against her pillows. Absentmindedly, Beca swipes at the trace of wetness along her chin and climbs up Chloe’s body slowly and surely so that they are pressed together intimately once more.

“Aren’t you tired?” Chloe asks softly. Her fingers run through Beca’s hair. She doesn’t stop smiling.

Beca steals a quick kiss from Chloe’s lips. Quick so she can retreat and look at Chloe’s smile again.

God, she’s cheesy. It’s weird though, Beca doesn’t feel any urge to retreat or run away. She just wants more of it.

She wants to know if it is normal to feel such an intense connection to somebody, despite their seemingly limited communication. The whole premise of matching with each other just to hook up. The whole idea of never seeing Chloe again.

The idea of that makes her heart pound uncomfortably, so she kisses Chloe again, well into the night.

 – – – – – – – – – –

 The good news is, Aubrey finally agrees to take Beca off her hands after an inquisition that lasted at least twenty-five minutes. Maybe thirty.

The bad news is, that means Beca will be working exactly one floor above Chloe and she won’t get to see her often.

The fantastic news is, Chloe won’t feel so guilty about wanting to date Beca because she’s no longer Chloe’s subordinate. And they’re barely considered co-workers – at least not so strictly – because Aubrey runs her team like a tight ship.

There might be additional bad news in that Beca has no idea what’s in for her, when she starts working for Aubrey.

But Aubrey promised a mild pay increase.

 – – – – – – – – – –

 Two-thirty can’t come fast enough. But when it does–

“Fuck,” Beca rasps. “Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this all day.” 

Chloe lifts her head from Beca’s neck, stilling her hand. “You have?” she asks, trying not to sound too hopeful. She had shared the Great News with Beca earlier, though Beca had been confused as to why Gabrielle and another intern had given her sympathetic looks.

But that’s all for another day (tomorrow).

Now, Beca looks like she might start to cry. “Y-yeah. Yeah,” she grits out. Her hips shift restlessly with some difficulty with how Chloe has her pinned against the wall. “God, don’t stop, Beale.”

Beca hadn’t known her last name before – two nights ago. She hadn’t known anything except “Chloe” or “Chlo” or various, stuttered iterations of Chloe’s name.

So it sends a bolt of arousal straight to Chloe’s core when Beca moans her last name like it’s the last thing she will ever do.

Chloe curls her fingers in a beckoning motion. Beca’s head thumps back against the wall, exposing her neck for Chloe to nibble at playfully. 

“Harder?” she asks innocently, like she’s asking Beca whether she finished her photocopying task. Not like she’s asking if Beca needs her to fuck her into oblivion in the middle of the day in a private bathroom.

“God yes,” Beca moans out. It echoes nicely around the room. Chloe is so grateful that past two-thirty, this floor is basically empty.

“Tell me how much harder,” Chloe orders.

“Chloe,” Beca whimpers.

“Beca,” she responds, leaning in to brush her nose against Beca’s jaw. “Tell me.” A muffled scream sounds from Beca’s throat. Slowly pushing Beca back against the ledge so she is more firmly stabilized, Chloe lifts her now-free hand to Beca’s mouth without really pressing down on her lips. “I want to hear you,” she murmurs.

Instead of responding again, Beca takes her fingers into her mouth and sucks. It makes Chloe jolt hard against Beca’s body and she becomes more cognizant of her growing need between her legs – how her clit seems to ache and pulse with each shift of her fingers inside Beca. Beca, for her part, finally releases Chloe’s fingers from her mouth and gasps out a series of short, steady breaths.

Chloe twists her wrist and thrusts hard, once more. 

Beca falls apart in her arms breathlessly. 

Chloe trails kisses up and down Beca’s neck and jaw. She had been amused to see Beca examining her hickey in the mirror earlier. She doesn’t intend to leave another one, but the fact that she left one at all (“Oops, I really didn’t mean to,” she had said apologetically without any real apology in her voice.) had sent the hottest streak of possession through her body. Now, she just wants to coax Beca down from her orgasm and linger in the moment as long as possible.

“Was that congrats-on-getting-the-job sex?” is the first thing Beca asks when she catches her breath.

“I mean, who’s to say?” Chloe says, backing away so Beca can push herself from the counter ledge. “There should probably be some thank-you-for-getting-me-the-job sex. Maybe.” She raises an eyebrow, waiting to see what Beca will do or say.

Beca raises an eyebrow back – Chloe was always going to lose this battle – and slowly sinks to her knees.

“You know,” Chloe says in a matter-of-fact tone. “This is the cleanest bathroom in our company. Maybe the building.” Words keep spilling out of her as Beca’s hands begin pulling her underwear down. “Don’t ask me why. It just–” her breath hitches. “It just is,” she whispers, the moment Beca’s lips start trailing up her thigh.

Beca, as it turns out, is very grateful for the job.

fin.

[britishassistant]

But I Like One Piece (3)

Her schedule becomes much busier after that.

She gets up an hour before training with Gai-sensei and goes to get Naruto. He’s taken to setting up traps again to dissuade her, growing more complex and subtle by the day.

She’s getting very good at dodging and disarming them.

They train with Gai-sensei for two hours. Usually running laps and doing katas focused on fluidity and strength. He seems to have taken Sanji’s creed as a personal challenge and she’s usually wearing mitten-like weights over her hands or has her arms tied behind her back.

After training, she returns home to practice katas with her father, using a smaller bokken.

She has a very short amount of time to shower and get dressed before Naruto arrives for breakfast with her family.

Sometimes Gai-sensei joins them, and she never knew embarrassment before she had to watch her parents try not to swoon over his every word. She suspects both Okaa-sama and Otou-sama have crushes on him.

Naruto grimaces next to her and they eat their food in double time and shout their goodbyes as they run to the Academy.

They eat lunch separately.

It’s Naruto’s idea, and rather ingenious if she does say so.

They sit at opposite ends of the same table while Ino, Sakura, Shikamaru (sleepy guy), Chouji, and Kiba are spread out between them. She knows their names now. Ino made sure of it.

Ino and Sakura try to get her involved in girl talk, Chouji alternates between talking to her about cooking and to Shikamaru about classes, while Kiba and Naruto discuss what kind of cool ninja moves they know and will learn next year.

They’re close enough that it still feels like they’re spending time together, but the conversation and slight dispersal of the seating positions mean they’re “technically” not eating a meal together.

After the Academy day is over, she goes to the market with her mother to buy groceries. Once they get back, she prepares their lunch boxes the moment groceries are put away, making extra due to the sheer amount of sharing that goes on, with Naruto yelling ridiculous suggestions as Okaa-sama measures him for new clothes.

He seems to be going through a growth spurt, now his body is getting the nutrients it needs.

They finish their homework together in the kitchen while her mother makes dinner. Otou-sama usually arrives in time for them to finish setting the table and they eat dinner together.

On Wednesdays and Fridays they get ramen from Ichiraku’s. Every other weekend is when the Hokage checks in on Naruto, so she’ll not see him for the entire two days.

After Naruto leaves for his curfew, she helps wash the dishes while her parents ensure she’s up to speed on their family history.

She goes to bed early, because she learned quickly not doing so made Gai-sensei’s training that much worse to bear.

They move up a year.

It’s almost a shame, because towards the end there the teacher had begun warming up to Naruto, if saying “Good luck Ketsugi, Uzumaki.” counts as “warming up”.

She supposes she maybe should’ve had a bit more faith in the teacher, even if the woman does have an unhealthy idealization of the World Government-level tyrant Usagi-hime and is completely, totally wrong about pirates being poor role models to aspire to.

Now they’re going to have a new teacher and begin the whole rigmarole over again.

At least their classmates are already used to him, and they get a three week break before the summer term starts.

Her new birthday’s the weekend before classes start up again too, so there’s that.

Naruto’s being stalked.

She notices it a few days into the break, when Okaa-sama begs for them to act their age for once and go play outside instead of just training or cooking.

Naruto knows a good swing set outside the Academy and they spend half an hour trying to see if they can get the swing to go all the way round.

Yes, she has the memories and partial mindset of a twenty year old, but this is the dream of every child who has ever been on a swing, including her, and they are in an anime ninja world.

If there’s anywhere it’ll be possible to fulfill this dream, it’s here.

She’s managed to go almost horizontal on her swing while Naruto whoops in glee behind her, and on the backswing she spots a blur of dark hair hiding behind a tree and watching them.

No, she thinks, slowing a little while Naruto kicks with increased vigor and whoops again once he touches tree branches, the person’s weird pale eyes remaining fixed on his swinging. Watching him.

The stalker follows them everywhere.

She’s getting reasonably sure the stalker is a girl, because just about the only place she doesn’t follow Naruto is the boy’s bathroom.

She’s almost on par with the masks for stealth otherwise, remaining far enough away that it’s not obvious she’s stalking but close enough that she always has a clear line of sight to Naruto.

She’s definitely a member of one of the village clans. Her skills and the symbol on her high-quality clothing attest to that much. But what’s her interest in Naruto?

She waits a minute after Naruto enters the bathroom, and then walks towards the stalker.

The girl knows better than to run and draw attention to herself, but she does backpedal a bit.

“Look,” She says, not unkindly. “I don’t know who you are. I don’t know why you’re watching Naruto. I don’t think you want to hurt him, and I’ll let you off so long as you don’t. Just don’t steal any of his underwear, or invade his privacy and make him uncomfortable, or we’ll have problems. Am I clear?”

The girl blushes tomato red. She opens and closes her mouth several times. She flees.

She sighs. The stalker may have just been too shy for her own good, but it’s always wise to nip a potential yandere in the bud before obsession really takes hold.

That weekend they get an addition to their morning training.

Gai-sensei comes striding onto their training field with a boy about their age trotting along behind him. He has a braid and very bushy eyebrows.

“This is Rock Lee!” Gai-sensei says proudly. “He will be joining our most youthful training!”

“I am Rock Lee and I am eight years old.” The boy introduces himself. “I am honored to meet the students of Maito Gai-sensei!”

“I’m Uzumaki Naruto and I’m seven! Imma be the Hokage, believe it!” Naruto cheers, waking up more with the chance to say his dream.

“Ketsugi Mayu. I’ll be seven two weeks from now. It’s nice to meet you, Lee-senpai.” She bows to him.

“Ah! It is I who should be calling you senpai, as you were students of Maito Gai-sensei before me!” Rock Lee insists, eyes shining. What a polite boy.

“Heck yeah! Just call me Naruto-senpai!” Naruto boasts, hands on his hips and nose in the air.

“No, don’t make him do that...”

“HOW YOUTHFUL!!” Gai-sensei roars, tears of joy streaming down his cheeks. The only person she’s ever seen cry more than him is Franky. “It brings me much joy to see my students getting along so well! Yosh! LET US RUN 50 LAPS AROUND KONOHA ON OUR HANDS!!”

“Yes, Gai-sensei!!” Lee yells back.

“Lee!”

“Gai-sensei!”

“Lee!”

“Gai-sensei!”

She and Naruto share a horrified glance. Oh god there’s two of them now.

There’s a lot of falling on faces, and 50 laps around Konoha do not get completed. They do manage 20 circuits somehow, and Gai-sensei tells them all he’s extremely proud of them.

That’s what’s nice about Gai-sensei. Even if you couldn’t quite reach the goal he set the first time, he’s always encouraging and takes every effort as something to be celebrated and built upon. He makes you want to succeed, but not worry about failing to get there.

They’re doing cool down stretches when Lee’s stomach growls.

Her eyes narrow.

Naruto catches sight of the look on her face and begins snickering.

Gai-sensei, cheerfully oblivious, straightens up. “Yosh! Mayu-chan, would your parents mind if we imposed upon them for breakfast?”

“Of course not Gai-sensei. They’d be delighted to have you.” She smiles.

Lee curls into himself a little, beginning to retreat. “Then I shall meet you all here tomorrow! Have a good morn—”

Her hand clamps down on his arm. She keeps smiling. “Training breakfasts are at my house. Here’s the address for you, so you can join us.”

Lee blinks, eyes shining suspiciously. “Ah...uh..is this...okay?”

“Don’t fight it Lee!” Naruto calls behind her. “Or she’ll hunt you down to feed you, believe it!”

“I did not hunt you down!” She yelps indignantly. “You set traps when I left you food!”

“I just wanted to say thank you!” “With chalk dust?!”

And so Lee joins them for breakfast.

He’s loud and a bit awkward, effusively thanking her parents for even the smallest of things and easily getting caught up in Gai-sensei’s pace.

He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body though, and can be surprisingly level-headed and reliable when not overexcited. Which, admittedly, is a lot of the time.

He also likes her curries, which Naruto wrongly insists are “pure LAVA on a plate, Mayu-chan, curry’s supposed to be sweet and savory, not burn your mouth off!”

She’s just glad she now knows somebody who can appreciate what a real curry is rather than the sweet, spice less sauce that cowards attempt to pretend counts.

Her parents are convinced he’s somehow Gai-sensei’s long lost son. To be fair to them, the eyebrows and enthusiasm are very...similar. Their theorizing ran rampant when Lee mentioned he lived in the Village Orphanage while assuring her he did, in fact, get enough to eat.

Gai-sensei isn’t exactly dissuading these theories with how much he mother-hens the boy either. She suspects he overacts and exaggerates his normal robustness a little bit for Lee, to stop the boy from glancing around during training sessions or meals like he can’t quite believe he deserves to be here.

She can’t exactly criticize, since she and Naruto and Okaa-sama and Otou-sama are also doing all they can to make Lee feel welcome.

The weekend of her birthday isn’t like any birthdays she’s had before in this life.

For all that she grew up in Konoha, she never had any friends before Naruto. Running laps was a much more productive use of her time, even if her mother worried about her being lonely.

A quiet dinner in with her new parents was enough for her.

Naruto missed her sixth birthday because he had to spend the weekend with the Hokage, then insisted on trying to draw Luffy for her from the stories she’s told him as a late birthday present.

It’s not a very accurate drawing—Luffy’s straw hat is upside down and he’s got lasers shooting from his eyes and looks like a distressed noodle overall, but it hangs on her wall all the same.

Naruto has been pulling a vanishing act sporadically throughout the week, which she wasn’t overly concerned about.

She knows about birthday preparations, and if he wants it to be a surprise, she’ll humor him.

Though she did stumble upon a scene where Lee was on one knee in front of Sakura, while Naruto prepared to hit him with a bag of mulch from behind.

All three froze when they realized she was there, stammered out something incomprehensible, and fled like startled mice.

She has no idea what was going on there, but she’d pay good money to find out.

Or at least cook a good meal, because all her ingredient purchases leave her perpetually broke.

Naruto isn’t in his apartment the morning of her birthday.

She gets past all of his traps only to knock on the door and hear no answer. The neighbors yell at her when her repeated hammering on the entrance gets too loud.

Lee isn’t with Gai-sensei when she finally arrives to training. He pointedly ignores all her questions about where the other two are, but teaches her the kata for a dropkick in exchange.

It’s difficult, but the grin she gets when her heel hits the ground and leaves a dent is blinding.

He walks her home too.

That’s when she realizes this was planned.

Sure enough, the curtains on the windows are drawn, and Gai-sensei is a little eager to go ahead of her into the house.

The lights coming on are blinding, and the yell of “HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAYU!!” should not be as loud as it is considering there are only five people in the room.

She’s sweaty and worn out and for some reason she can’t stop smiling so hard her cheeks hurt.

Lee and Gai-sensei present her with a set of weights and a few pairs of orange leg warmers to cover them, like the ones they wear on a daily basis. She grins and thinks it might be nice to wear something that reminds her of the two of them and Naruto, who has insisted on getting mainly orange clothing since Okaa-sama once told him he had the coloring for it.

Okaa-sama and Otou-sama give her a book on baking bread that’s about as heavy as the weights and several bags of different types of flour. She hugs them as tightly as she can. There’s wheat and rye and multigrain and gluten-free and she can’t wait to see what she can create with all of this.

Naruto fidgets and shoves a small pot with a rosemary plant in it into her arms. “Ino let me have this if I helped out at the Yamanaka flower shop with her and Sakura-chan, believe it, and she said it tastes really good in food and its name is Habu-san because plants are living things, so they should have names like people and animals do, right?”

She inhales the slightly salty scent.

Later, after she’s finally had a shower and gotten dressed with the addition of the leg warmers, Sakura and Ino will drop by with a set of sparkly silver hair clips and a chef’s hat keychain.

They’ll all go to a restaurant owned by Chouji’s family to eat, and she’ll devour one of the best plates of chicken katsu, intent on figuring out the recipe through taste alone. She’ll share a chocolate cake with Chouji and Naruto, laughing as the latter pouts when describing Lee’s declaration to woo Sakura when he becomes a worthy ninja.

But for now, she just beams at her best friend and tells him, “I really love Habu-san. Thank you so much for giving this to me, Naruto.”

They return to the Academy.

Lee walks with them there, and they wave to each other as they go to their respective classrooms.

Kiba runs up to them within seconds of arriving in their new classroom, a beam on his face so bright it could outshine the sun itself.

“Igotmyninkenpartner!!!” He bursts out, practically vibrating with happiness.

She blinks. Looks at Naruto, who shrugs. Looks back at Kiba. “Beg your pardon?”

He groans, cuddling a bundle close to his chest. As she’s looking down at it, it squirms.

“I. Got. My. Ninken. Partner.” He repeats, with exaggerated slowness. “It’s a huge thing for the Inuzuka! We get chosen by a ninken, and they can understand human speech and learn cool ninja moves with us, so when we grow up we’ll be twice as awesome as any other ninja!!”

“What’s a ninken?” Naruto asks as the bundle squirms again—

And a puppy pops out.

“Meet Akamaru!” Kiba says proudly. Akamaru is white with floppy brown ears and big dark eyes and—

“Akamaru.” She says seriously. “You are a very good boy.”

The puppy yips in response and she could die right then and there from happiness.

This year they’re actually moving into the ninja portion of Academy learning.

The new teacher is a white haired man and he has them sit criss-crossed on the floor.

“Chakra is a force found in all living beings, a combination of their spiritual and physical energy, or yin and yang. It is a ninja’s greatest tool, the source of genjutsu and ninjutsu.” He drones on.

Does it run on midochlorians too? A voice in her head that sounds like her past brother’s mocks.

It just all sounds so inaccurate, like a bunch of different ideas mashed together to seem cool.

At least Devil Fruits were somewhat understandable. Eat a weird fruit, it messes with your genetics, you get powers. Much more plausible.

She pokes Naruto awake again and the teacher glares at them. “Today we’ll focus on basic chakra awareness. I want you to meditate and locate your chakra center.”

The classmates around her close their eyes. After an especially sharp glare, she does so too.

It’s warm in the classroom.

It’s noisy outside, and she can feel Naruto’s knee press into her leg.

She focuses on her breathing. It’s almost peaceful, retreating inside herself like this—

There’s something inside her.

It wasn’t there before.

It doesn’t belong in her.

She thinks it doesn’t like that she’s found it.

It’s like forcibly being made aware of blood circulating through your body. Not simply your heart beating, but the friction as the liquid scrapes through your veins, the pain as the breakneck current is divided and divided again, until dead ends send the liquid flying back to where it came from at the same terrifying speed.

“What the shit?!” She gasps out, eyes flying open.

Then she hears what she just said and claps her hands over her mouth as the children around her break into surprised titters.

The teacher glowers. “Ketsugi, go stand in the hall.”

[honeymoonjin]

A/N - IMPORTANT NOTICE::: for all fans of LiT, this series is going to have seasons, and each season is ten chapters. This is because there is a lot of story to tell, and while I don’t want to rush it, I also want to have time to work on other things in between chunks of story. So next chapter will be the season finale!

LOST IN TRANSLATION

↳What do you do when you have no qualifications but want to see the world? You help teach English in a Korean primary school, apparently. ↳Principal!Jin, math teacher!Yoongi, PE teacher!Hoseok, English teacher!Namjoon, school nurse!Jimin, art teacher!Taehyung, and science teacher!Jungkook.

CHAPTER NINE ↳The news that the school might shut down is putting a lot of pressure on the staff, and with parent teacher interviews coming up, it seems to be taking its toll.

“Have fun?”

You jump at the sudden voice, sending a small dribble of tea sloshing out of the mug and down your sleeve. “Hm?”

It’s Coach Jung, collapsing noisily onto the couch next to you. The two of you are in the staffroom, him arriving a little later since he had to return the sports gear first. Apparently, on mornings where he had early practice, Principal Kim would give the coach the first period off to chill for a bit, and as temporary assistant to Hoseok, you were extended that same courtesy.

As it was, you had barely spoken ten words since leaving the house. Hoseok let you sit in the passenger seat in silence the whole way to the school, and since you were mostly helping out with equipment and getting used to the way Hoseok ran these sessions this morning, you didn’t have to say all that much to the kids either. He gives you a bright smile now, propping his arm up over the back of the couch so that he can turn and face you head-on. “I asked if you had fun. Did you?”

“Oh.” You pause to actually consider that. “Yeah, I did. I haven’t done soccer for many times.”

Like usual, your mistakes don’t ruffle him at all. “It’s been a while, huh? Well, if it makes you feel better, you were pretty great out there today. Looked like a real professional.”

You can’t help but snort. “Oh, really? That’s right. I am professional of sitting orange cones in straight line and blowing whistle.”

He grins and shakes his head fondly. “You’re trouble, you know that? But I think you’re just what this school needs right now.” He turns somewhat somber, and his voice flattens out in a way you hate hearing from the normally sunny guy. “I can’t stop thinking about it. What if we don’t make nationals? If my team fails, I’ll be responsible for the whole school shutting down. I-” he breaks off with a bitter laugh, “Seokjin and I, the principal, that is, we haven’t been sleeping so well. Not that I think any of the staff here are, but… We’ll stay up until the break of dawn texting each other, trying to imagine a scenario in which all of this isn’t taken away from us. If there’s an easy solution out there, we can’t think of it.”

You take a sip of your tea as you let his words sink in. It’s gone cold. “Maybe if parents of children know, they can help. They want their kids being happy. And the kids… they are so happy here. This afterno- ah, no, this morning, this morning Jae-ah has told me morning is the best time of her week always.”

Hoseok’s eyes crinkle a little at the thought of that pig-tailed girl with ruddy cheeks. “Jae-ah said that? She always seems so shy during the games, I thought maybe her parents were just making her do sports as an extra-curricular.”

You shake your head adamantly. “No, she loves it. She is telling me, Y/n, every night time I put my clothes on bed for tomorrow because I am so excited. I say wow. I think children here is happier than other schools’ children.”

He hums in thought, then brings his hand down to ruffle playfully at your hair with a warm smile. “Your Korean is getting better, you know that?”

Your cheeks heat a little, but you just shrug. “I make many mistakes still.”

He shrugs back in return. “So what? You seem much more confident, and your pronunciation sounds very native! The teachers and Seokjin have all noticed how much effort you’re making. Not just with Korean, but you know… We appreciate it. We appreciate you.”

You give him a small pleased grin and slip out of his hold, getting up to dump the lukewarm tea in the sink and put your mug away in the dishwasher. “I appreciate you all too. A few days ago, I searched on internet how many schools in South Korea. I am not so good with saying big numbers, but it is very many. I think, wow! How lucky I am that, uh, so many…” you trail off, realizing you have no idea to finish your sentence.

Thankfully, Hoseok, who still lounges on the staffroom couch in his grass-stained basketball shorts and polo shirt, helps you out. “So many schools out there, and you managed to get this one?” You nod happily, mentally taking note of the grammar structure in case you want to say the same thing again. “It wasn’t luck, Y/n. It’s all thanks to Principal Kim.”

You turn around as he speaks, those words seemingly strangely familiar to you.

“out of all the applicants we were sent, I’m glad Principal Kim picked you.” Jimin had said that to you this morning, although it already felt like the distant past. You were told, way back last year when applying, that applicants were randomly assigned to schools, but somehow at least two staff members were under the impression that you had been hand-picked. What had made the principal specifically ask for you? You could barely even remember what you had put on your application.

Before you can ponder it further, a whiny ring sounds through the staffroom and Hoseok sighs, pushing off on the couch to heave himself up. “Well, then, break’s over. Let’s see how good seven-year-olds are at dodgeball.”

--

After a couple of hours of helping Namjoon out, interspersed with a lunch of beef stew and rice, you find yourself in Principal Kim’s office. However, instead of being there to ask him about your application, you’re surrounded by the rest of the staff as the bespectacled principal hands out some information booklets to each of you.

“Parent-teacher interviews,” he announces dramatically, quirking his wrist as he pushes his glasses back up his nose. “As most of you know, tonight we have three hours in the evening for parents to come and speak with you about their children’s development. Like normal, there are a few things I want you to keep in mind. Number one: no matter how poorly or well their child is performing, give at least one compliment and at least one area for growth. Number two: please try and stick to the schedules I’ve given you; we want to make sure everyone gets seen. And finally, please don’t mention the private matters of the school. If the parents find out about this whole shutting-down situation, it’ll make its way to the kids, and stressed kids perform worse. That’s something we can’t afford right now. Questions?”

Glancing around to make sure nobody else is going to speak up, you raise your hand awkwardly, waiting for him to give you an inciting nod. “Uh, Principal Kim, am I going to this event? I didn’t know.”

His eyebrows crease and his bottom lip sticks out slightly. “Of course you’re going. Namjoon, I told you to tell her the other day!”

The teacher in question ducks his head in a short bow, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. “I’m sorry, principal, I forgot. Won’t happen again.”

Kim sighs and glances towards the ceiling in thinly veiled frustration. “I… I need you, that goes for all of you, to make a real effort to be organized, okay? Life is stressful enough for us right now, so just try your best to stay on top of things.”

The mood falls somber, before the science teacher shuffles forward cheekily. “I know what would cheer the mood up, sir. We haven’t had a good, old-fashioned challenge in a while. We could put Jimin in the sexy nurse dress again.” Jimin reaches forward and smacks Jungkook upside the head but doesn’t otherwise protest the suggestion.

The eldest pinches the bridge of his nose. “We don’t have the money for a raise for anyone right now. But… I was given some vouchers for that Chinese restaurant down the road for my birthday and I haven’t used them yet. How about that? Winner gets the voucher.”

After a resounding cheer of agreement from at least three of the teachers, one of those remaining silent speaks up. “All of your challenges are either public humiliation or things that benefit you personally, Kim. Can we for once have a challenge that requires actual skills?”

You smile at the math teacher, who is trying to use his complaints as a way to hide the fact that he seriously wants that food voucher, eyes bright with determination under a scrunched-up brow.

“Fine, then,” the principal allows, wrinkling his nose in thought, “I’ll come up with something and tell you all later. You’re dismissed for the day.”

As the teachers clear out, shuffling their feet in disappointment, you pause at the mumbling of your name and turn around. Principal Kim’s waving for you to come over, where he has the art teacher by the back of the neck. You haven’t spoken to Taehyung since the incident, and for a moment a bolt of shock runs through you, that feeling you get when you think you’re in trouble. But Taehyung seems to be completely bored and unbothered by the hold on his shirt collar, so you let yourself relax and wander over, the door falling shut behind you.

“Y/n,” the principal repeats, “I lied. I said I’d come up with something later so that they weren’t suspicious, but the real mission is now. I want one of you two to win the voucher, so I’ll give you a secret challenge to complete if you’re up for it. Y/n, you’ve been so amazing this past week, especially with everything that’s going on. I admire your work ethic and your willingness to help, and so this is my chance to reward you for your efforts. Art Kim-” the principal breaks off with a sigh. “Art Kim, you were standing closest to me when I reached out for somebody. So, it’s between you two. It’s going to be legendary. Your mission, should you choose to accept it,” Taehyung scoffs at the dramatic tone, but Principal Kim ignores him, “is to get one Min Yoongi to give you a hug. If you manage to prove that our resident grouch has a heart, you win a one hundred thousand won voucher to the Green Dragon restaurant. Are you in?”

You glance at the art teacher. Sure, he’s sweet, and he can put on the disposition of a kicked puppy when he needs to, but there’s no way he’ll get a hug quicker than you. “Yes, I’m in,” you state confidently.

Taehyung sighs slowly, and for a moment you think he’s going to give in and give you the voucher by default, but then he turns to you and gives you a mischievous grin. “I’m in.”

--

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[apriorisea]

BTS Imagine: Insecure - Taehyung

You try to focus on the mostly-warm bottle of soda in front of you, but even with your back turned you can feel his eyes on you. You whip around and, sure enough, find Taehyung’s eyes trained on you. You raise an eyebrow at him and he can only hold on to his ‘cool’ look for a second before that little boy grin breaks across his entire face.    ‘Smothering me,’ you mouth, unable to keep a straight face. He rolls his eyes and gives you another look, and even though you giggle, you can feel your heart pound a little harder as you turn back to the refreshment table. Silly boy. You were glad he was having a good time, glad he was able to enjoy one of his few nights off. It had taken some time to persuade him to come to this mutual friend’s party, but now, seeing him relaxed and positive in the loose atmosphere, you were so glad you’d pushed. You glanced at your watch: it was almost time to go home, anyway, and then you’d get to spend the rest of the night together. You’ve just finished filling both cups with coke when someone bumps into your arm.    “Hey!”    You look up into the face of one of your ex-boyfriends and find yourself genuinely pleased to see him. “Hey,” you grin, setting the cups back down on the refreshment table and reaching up to accept his friendly-hug. “How are you??” You didn’t always have such a good relationship with your exes, but this guy in front of you now was the one ex with whom you’d ended your relationship fairly peacefully.    “Good,” he says, taking a comfortable step back. “You look great, really happy. That’s your guy over there, right?”    “Yeah.” You can’t help but feel a certain amount of pride at how easy the conversation is, how grown-up and settled you feel to be able to chat with your ex like it’s nothing. “You look good, too. Work is fine?” He hangs around for a little bit longer, and when his friends call him away, he squeezes your arm and walks away, leaving you to your lukewarm drinks. You grab them, and head back towards the couch where Taehyung is, still smiling to yourself over the mature exchange you just had. You crash on the couch next to him, pass him his drink, and settle into his side. “Hi cutie,” you say playfully, hooking your arm through his and scanning the party in front of you. “How are you?”    He takes a sip of coke before answering. “Good.” He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “Was that...did you see somebody you know?”    The smile crosses your face at the memory of your previous conversation. “Yeah!” You explained the connection and the situation but stopped short of speaking on how proud you are of yourself, realizing that it’s going to be hard to explain.    He nods, silently listening to your story. He takes another drink and then says, “He seems tall. You must have a type...”    You tap his leg without looking back, smiling at the teasing. “Yeah, I think he’s even taller than you!” You joke back. “I haven’t seen him in a long time. It was cool to catch up a little tonight.” When he’s quiet for a long time, you turn back to look at him, smiling at the slightly spacey look on his face. You set your cup aside and run your fingers through his hair, gently settling a piece of it back behind his ear. “You okay?”    He turns to look at you, forcing you to drop your hand in the process, and gives you a serious nod. “I think I’m tired,” he says, managing a little smile. “Are you ready to go home?”    “Yes.” You collect your cup and reach for his. “Let me go take care of these---meet me at the door?” You lean over to kiss his cheek and then hop up before he can answer, snaking your way through the partygoers to find the least over-flowing trash can. As you’re headed to meet your boyfriend at the door, you pass by your ex and his group of friends. You smile, offer him a high-five, and keep walking. When you reach the door, you bounce up to Taehyung, kissing his cheek again before opening the door. He hesitates a second, his gaze caught on something back behind you, but when you slip your hand into his, he follows you obediently.    The next day passes by slowly; he’s at work all day and you spend your day off catching up on all of the things that don’t get done during the week (laundry, shopping, cleaning, dishes). When he gets home that night, it’s late---not that this is a surprise, since the next day is a Concert Day. You’re lying in bed reading when he walks in, looking rumpled and exhausted. You sit up, smiling automatically, “Hi, love.”    He throws you his little box-smile. “Hi honey. Sorry I’m late.” He takes some time pulling off his coat, kicking his shoes into the closet.    You wait patiently. “How was rehearsal? Excited for tomorrow?”    “Yes.” He runs a hand through his hair tiredly. “We worked a long time on the opening stage, so I’m not as worried about that. Jimin’s really worried about his solo, like usual...”     You make a hum of pity. “How does he look?”     “Good,” he answers immediately, his frustration evident. “But you know Jimin. That’s actually why I was extra late, because I couldn’t get him to leave.”    “You made sure he got home?”     He nods. “He’s going to be fine, it’s just...”    “You’re a good friend, baby.” You’re still waiting for him to come closer. “I’m glad Jimin has you to help take care of him.”     The smile touches every corner of his face, but soon fades. He exhales tiredly. “I really need a shower,” he says, trudging towards the bathroom. He smiles ruefully. “All that extra dance practice tonight....I’ll probably be a while, so don’t worry about waiting up for me. You look tired, honey.”    You stretch your hand out towards him. “Okay. Love you.”    He squeezes your fingers briefly. “Love you, too.” He drops your hand quickly. “I’m so sweaty,” he explains, flashing you another quick smile.    “Okay,” you say again. “Don’t turn into a prune.” You smile at your own joke, but can’t help but feel a little strange as he leaves without so much as a hug. You try not to think about it too hard; he’s clearly got his mind stuck on the performance the next day. He does take a long time in the shower; when he comes out you’ve already turned the lights off and snuggled in. Even so, when he climbs into bed next to you, you reach out and cuddle him from behind. “Goodnight, love,” you breathe. “Tomorrow is going to be amazing.”    You tighten your hold on him as he whispers back, “I love you.”    The next morning, you vaguely remember him leaning over and hugging you tight against him before he left for his schedule-filled day. It’s not until you’re brushing your teeth that you realize he didn’t kiss your forehead, his customary goodbye. The two of you exchange a few text messages throughout the day, and you’re happy to see that he seems nervous but excited.    You arrive at the venue at your customary early time, slipping backstage and into the greenroom where all 7 boys were waiting. You bump fists with Jungkook, plant a kiss firmly on Yoongi’s cheek, give Jin and Hoseok a warm side-hug, high-five Namjoon, and take a second to really talk to Jimin, before finally making it to your boyfriend. He pulls you into a hug and you carefully wrap your arms around his waist, not wanting to mess up his outfit. “You look great.” You reach up and gently touch his long, dangling earring. “I love this.”    He grins at you, but before the two of you can talk more, Namjoon calls them in for a pre-concert meeting. Taehyung takes your hand and guides you into the circle in front of him, draping his arms around you comfortably. You lean back into his chest, feeling his heart beat quickly with pre-concert nerves, and let their familiar chatter wash around you. When they’re called away to officially begin, you hype each of them up as they leave the dressing room, laughing at Jungkook’s ridiculous expression before Tae finally reaches you. Your smile growing a little fonder, you wrap your arms around his neck. “Good luck, baby. It’s going to be amazing.”    He squeezes your waist. “Thanks for being here, honey.” His eyes drift to the empty doorway and you know he’s feeling pressure to go.    “Have fun,” you say, taking a step back and waiting for his kiss.    He smiles down at you, crushes you against him in a tight hug again, and then disappears. You’re left slightly stunned and probably a little hurt. You’re not sure yet, since his behavior caught you so off guard, but you’re pretty sure there’s a little sliver of sting creeping in. As you make your way to your reserved seat in the hall, your mind whips through the last 48 hours. You’re pretty sure that’s as far back as it goes, because you know he kissed you at the party on Friday night. What is the problem? You try to ignore the needles of pain all throughout the performance, grateful for the moments you’re able to slip completely into the music and enjoy it.    After the concert, you head backstage, worried that over the last 2 hours things had devolved even more. While you’re waiting for them to come back into the greenroom, you fold your arms over stomach and force yourself to calm down. Everything is fine. You can’t help but smile as the door slams open, an exuberant set of boy band members bursting in still flying on their concert-high. You accept the other members’ hugs as they move past, holding your breath for the moment of truth: Taehyung gathers you into his arms, buries his face in your shoulder, and swings you around a few times. He sets you down and you reach up to kiss his cheek. He doesn’t stop you, but he also doesn’t kiss you back. Your stomach twists.    You let it go until you get home. Throughout his post-concert ritual (take off makeup, change into comfy clothes, celebrate all the way home) you kept waiting for it to break, for him to kiss you again finally. It doesn’t happen. The two of you talk the whole way home, running through the highlights and worrisome moments of the performance, talking about how well Jimin did, discussing what you wanted to order in for dinner---just like usual, but he won’t touch you. He settles on the couch to watch TV while you change, and he doesn’t move even when you come back, changed into comfy yoga pants and a sweatshirt. You watch him for a moment: he’s completely relaxed now that the concert is finished---except that’s not quite true. Now that you can study him more carefully, there’s a current of unease running through him, just below the surface. Tired of dancing around the subject, you take a deep breath and go forward with your plan.    “What are you watching?” You ask, moving towards where he sat on the couch.   He shrugs. “I think it’s the news. ....Or it might be a drama. Hard to tell right now.”    You laugh despite your worry. “I’m glad you’re more relaxed, babe,” you say, reaching him and putting your hand on his shoulder. “You deserve to rest now.” Smiling down at him, you straddle his lap and wrap your arms around his neck. You press your forehead against his. “I’m so proud of you, lover.”    His hands are resting on your hips, and you can feel his breath starting to quicken, but he doesn’t close those few inches.    This wasn’t going to deter you. You lean in slowly, holding his gaze in your own, moving to press your lips against his---but at the last second, he turns his face slightly. You freeze, worries confirmed. To his credit, he’s finally looking ashamed.    “Right.” You sit back. “What is the problem?”    “I don’t--”    You didn’t mean to let your hurt feelings lead the way, but they do. “Am I suddenly so disgusting to you?”    His eyes snap back to your face and he tightens his hold on your waist. “No! Honey, never, that’s...that’s obviously not it.”    “Then what is going on?”    He hesitates, hems, haws, hangs back, but finally swallows hard and says, “I can’t stop thinking about your ex-boyfriend, the one from the party.”    Maybe you were naive, but this hadn’t even been one of the possibilities you had considered. “My......I’m sorry, what?”    “He’s taller than me.” He drops his eyes from yours, and you can feel him twisting the fabric of your shirt around his long finger again and again and again. “And I saw...I saw the way you hugged him, and how happy you were after talking with him and--”    You narrow your eyes at him. “And you what? You thought I’d cheat on you with my ex-boyfriend?”    “No, I just...That guy was so tall and all muscle-y and from what you said he has a great, stable job, and he made you smile so wide, and-and how can I possibly measure up to that??”    “Taehyung.”    “I love you so much, sweetie,” he says earnestly. “So much. But how can I kiss you, when I now know you’ll always be comparing it to him?”    Oh. “Taehyung. Are you serious?” When he nods miserably, you take a small breath before you begin. “I love you more,” you say softly, “Always have, ever since the beginning. You are perfect in every way, especially to me. You make me smile. You are the perfect height. You make me proud of your work every day.” You could see him start to blink back extra emotion in his eyes. “I’m sorry I hugged him, if that makes you uncomfortable. I just genuinely was happy to see him and have an adult conversation, instead of acting like awkward exes all the time. I was proud of myself more than anything. But I didn’t think about how it would hurt you.” You touch his cheek softly. “I’m really sorry, baby.”    He takes a small breath. “It’s my own issue,” he admits firmly. “I just...I don’t ever want to disappoint you, and I felt so awkward I just couldn’t kiss you, because I feel so safe when I’m with you, I couldn’t...” he trails away awkwardly.    There’s a small silence while you consider his words, knowing that he needs to see you taking his concerns seriously---even though you secretly feel that he’s being a little ridiculous. After an appropriate amount of time, you nod slowly. “I get it, I really do. But I need you to remember how much I love you, especially when you feel like this.” You lean forward, cupping his face in your hands. “And I’m going to do whatever it takes to reassure you.” Meeting his eye, you kiss his cheek, lingering for a moment to see how your touch is received. When he closes his eyes and pulls you closer, you grin and kiss his lips. You’re relieved when he kisses you back, and it’s several minutes before you break apart.    He smiles and cuddles you against him, running one hand lightly up and down your back. “I love you. I’m not going to forget again.” He tilts your chin back up to look at him. “Kiss me again, beautiful?”

[lexis-lexica]

hello hello friends. I’m mina and I am so ready for plotting so hit me up on discord or DM here to plot, or like this post and imma come to you. SORRY FOR THE PARAGRAPHS. I’m just so shitty at listing things. [ BAE SUZY & FEMALE & SHE/HER. ] that, right there, is [ ALEXIS ‘LEXI’ BLYTHE ]. the [ TWENTY-TWO ] year old has been in savannah for [ A YEAR AND A HALF ] and is known for being quite [CHARMING ] - but on bad days, while being very SELF-DESTRUCTIVE ], they seem to walk with their head low while [ I’M A MESS by BEBE REXHA ] plays through their earbuds. ( mina. 23. she/her.est )

Alexis ‘Lexi’ Blythe Age: 22 Birthday: February 27 (Pisces) Orientation: Hetero TW. Abandonment, Adoption, Parental Neglect, Alcoholism, Drug Use O1 ━◞ FAMILY - Adopted by a big-shot politican and his trust-fund socialite wife when she was a baby, Lexi never knew why they had chosen to adopt from Korea. Maybe they had just wanted the picture perfect family even though they couldn’t, or rather her father couldn’t. Maybe they wanted to show how progressive, diverse, and altruistic they were for an old money family. Nevertheless, Lexi remembers being raised by the nanny, watching Disney movies, and only seeing her parents when they needed her to act her part in the long-standing Blythe political legacy of senators and congressmen. Last she had heard of her father, Alexander Duke Blythe was looking to be the next presidential candidate. Her mother runs various charities, painting the perfect First Lady potential. The next big Kennedy and Jackie. Her parents had not been the biggest fan of her acting career, but now that she has actually made it on the big screen, her own fame has indirectly lent to his image positively. Consequently, he has slowly been keeping track of her goings more and more - to her disgust. When she was 18, Lexi found a private investigator to try to find her biological parents. She still has no idea who her father was, but she learned that her mother had been an escort who abandoned Lexi on the steps of a massage parlour in the Gangnam district. O2 ━◞ CAREER - Attention-deprived, and raised in Los Angeles, it only made sense for Lexi to pursue a career to famehood through acting. Broadway, singing, dance and acting classes were part of her busy schedule growing up because an heiress like her needed to be raised in culture and the arts. She had never held a knack for subjects like math or literature, but the dramatic arts came to her naturally.  Instead of going to university, she worked as an extra at 17 before finally catching a break at 19 as a minor character in an intrigue drama. Appealing to the audiences as the ‘sweet and innocent’ trope, she began to take on more movie roles. The nickname going around Hollywood translated into “America’s Angel”. The problem with being forced into a trope was she rarely got roles past the secondary or tertiary characters. Having been a solid B-lister for the past 5 years, Lexi has recently been trying to take on more sensual and provocative roles. Because everyone knows the key to stardom is for everyone to watch you sleep around in theatres. Yet, any time Lexi is shown as anything but a “sweet angel”, her reputation suffers. Her last movie, He Said She Said was a rom-com that crashed and burned, but the newest blockbuster coming out may just be a movie for the charts. O3 ━◞ PERSONALITY - Don’t get her wrong. She cares deeply for her friends. They’re the family she doesn’t feel that she has. Her crew is always surprised she’s not a total diva and is usually just an outgoing and (for the most part) amiable girl. Whether in the way she walks or smiles, she has that graceful superstar formula that draws people in. It’s just her little self-destructive tendencies and obsession for finding love (and also trouble) that gets her into trouble with the people around her. Having an empty family life pushed Lexi to dream of her future family and Prince Charming. When she isn’t thinking of movie scripts and planning how to maintain her relevancy, she is wondering when her life will turn into a rom-com. Sometimes she loses track of reality in her naivete and desperation. Also ridiculously mischievous. Because she grew up constantly conniving as to how she could mess with her parents and get their attention, she often liked to do the opposite of what her dad would instruct her to do, which extrapolated to everyone. Extremely bad at taking instructions and also criticism (so you can expect some diva meltdowns every once in awhile). Breaking the law is lowkey a grey area. Doesn’t blink an eye at things like trespassing. O4 ━◞ SCANDAL - She met one of her father’s colleagues at one of the galas her parents forced her to visit. One of the youngest Senators ever from California. Hitting it off that night, the rest of the year felt like a dream. Young and naive, she was head over heels in love. He swore that he would break up with his wife and that he didn’t love her anymore. As things go, the senator’s wife discovered their affair through a private investigator. Holding the photos over head, she threatened Lexi that she would ruin the Senator’s reputation unless Lexi stayed away from her husband. To tend to her broken heart and avoid blowing up both Lexi’s and the senator’s careers, her agent sent her to Savannah to lay low until things could boil over. O5 ━◞ ALCOHOL USE AND DRUG USE - Since beginning the affair, Lexi turned to alcohol and drugs to deal with the guilt. When she wasn’t working, she was drinking and partying. And when she was partying in upscale LA, she was popping m like no tomorrow with Los Angeles’ partying elite. O6 ━◞ LIKES - Enjoys champagne, cream earl grey tea and anything fruity. Fav coffee is a cappucino with a shot of vanilla. Zombie apocalypse and horror shows/movies/anythings are her guilty passion even though she gets unbelievably scared to the point where she can’t get a good night’s rest. Her secret dream is to star in a zombie film where she gets a really dramatic death. Proud mommy of a little Maltese puppy named Peanut. O7 ━◞ QUIRKS - Messy, not dirty, is what Lexi claims she is. Scatter-brained and disorganized. Constantly late for events. She gives her manager, Anya, a hernia, for not having any order in her life. Lexi also can’t cook for her life but really likes to eat - everything and anything. In fact, for a striving starlet, she really likes fast food like hamburgers and pizza far too much. In response, she is up early doing some sort of physical activity every morning as a semi-guilty ritual. She basically can’t go through the day without exercising because she’s so anxious about her appearance and her extreme love for food. O8 ━◞ WANTED CONNECTIONS - ♕ her ride or die aka in greys anatomy speak, “her person”. The person she’s closest to, etc, like she’d kill somebody for this person ♕ childhood friend ♕ cousins (technically adopted cousins from her adoptive mother’s side) ♕ best female friend aka like a sister/ best male friend aka like a bro ♕ childhood friend ♕ flirtationship ♕ all that love ships/maybe kind of a rebound/maybe more ♕ party crew? ♕ someone who knew her ex or even of the scandal in some way///or or or or someone lexi got really drunk with and accidentally ugly cried to about her being a mistress/ someone who has dirt on her? ♕ an ex that ended badly/ an ex that ended on good terms ♕ someone she has slept around with/is sleeping around with/rebound ♕ one night stand ♕ a fan of her movies/tv shows!? ♕ roommate (she just moved from a big ass mansion to like a house, and it feels empty as fuck, so she prob put out a posting) ♕ early morning workout buddies ♕ someone she has worked with in the industry before like fellow celebs/crew/photographers/filmographers/etc/etc? ♕ anything else hit me up

[malekshardy]

groupie love – hardy!roger taylor x reader (part three)

summary: everything comes full circle when betty surprises you with tickets to queen’s last show at madison square garden. 

a/n: this is it!!! the last part!!! and it’s three times as long as either of the first two, oops. obviously i think it must be at least kind of good, otherwise i wouldn’t have written over 6k words of it. definitely listen to the playlist while you read – i wrote most of this listening to empty space and close to me, but for the end i listened to my love, my life by abba EXCLUSIVELY and then somebody to love for a little bit at the very end. this has been so much fun to write, and i hope you like it!!

word count: 6,677 (!!!!)

part one | part two

Betty is waiting for you when you finally get home, just as you knew she would be. The whole subway ride home, you had thought about how to confront her about the phone number – although, logically, you know that you hadn’t seen her since you both got home from the party the night before.

On principle, though, you’re still mad.

Betty is laying on the couch, half asleep, when you slam the door open and enter the apartment. She snaps awake and sits straight up.

“Where have you been?! I thought you were dead in a back alley somewhere!” She exclaims.

You sigh. “Work.”

“Oh,” she seems disappointed for just a second, then her expression changes back to a more relaxed one. “Did Arthur keep you this whole time? Three extra hours?”

“Yeah.” You sit down next to her. “He paid double for the overtime though, so at least there’s that.”

“That’s good. But, like… why?”

“Queen came in around midnight.” You say shortly. You know you have no right to be annoyed, but it’s almost three in the morning and you knew your best friend and drunk Betty getting a rockstar’s number should definitely have been a topic of conversation on the taxi ride home last night. “John says hello.”

“Oh,” Betty blushes.

“I guess you don’t have to pray you run into him sometime in the next three days so you can say hi back, considering he has your phone number.”

“Y/N –“

“I’m not really mad,” you say, mostly to yourself. “Because we haven’t seen each other all day, but how did you not tell me last night on the way home? That’s exciting!”

“You didn’t tell me about you and Roger,” she says.

Oh. Right.

“And who told you about that? John?”

“We saw you, Y/N. You were literally in the middle of the party making out with the world’s most notorious playboy.” She laughs. “But yes, John mentioned it when he called me earlier. Do you want something to eat?”

“What did he say?!” You nearly shout. “Because Roger was being weird at the restaurant when I ran into him, but I just assumed that’s because he’s a rockstar who’s used to having to deal with groupies and all that.”

“I had mac and cheese for dinner,” Betty says, standing up and walking towards your kitchen. “I’ll reheat it for you.”

“Betty!” More than anything, you want to hear what John had to say. Even though you know it was probably mentioned in passing – oh, just Roger being Roger, attracting yet another groupie to his side for the night – you can’t keep yourself from hoping it’s something more.

The oven beeps. “C’mon Y/N, eat something and I’ll tell you.” You scramble to your feet and head into the kitchen. Betty takes the leftover mac and cheese and sets in on the table as if she’s your mother.

“Okay, go.”

“Well, our conversation started off a little bit awkward, since I think both of us got a lot of our confidence from being intoxicated, so I brought up you and Roger just because it was something about people that we both knew, and –“

“– Wait, what time was this?” You interrupt.

“Around three, maybe? I’m not sure, I had just gotten back from work. But don’t interrupt, I thought you wanted to hear what he had to say about you.”

“Yes. Sorry.”

“Basically, we talked a little about you guys and the party last night, and then he said something about us leaving really early and Roger being apparently pretty torn up about it – John said that he was pretty grumpy and irritable right after we left and this morning when they all got together for lunch, which is how he knew he was disappointed – and he said that Roger thinks that you left because you didn’t like him or something, which I didn’t think was true, but I also know about your wild side and you didn’t seem too upset to be leaving, so I just told him I wasn’t sure –“

“Betty, it was your fault that we left!” You exclaim.

“I know, I told him that.” Betty glares at you. “Keep eating. I know you haven’t eaten anything since five.”

“Fine. But I didn’t want to leave, just making sure you know that.”

“I know. But I’m not done with the story, so shh. Basically, John was saying that Roger didn’t want to talk about the party or you, which was weird to everybody because Roger always wants to brag about his groupies the next day, so John said they decided that Roger likes you and wishes you would have stuck around the other night.”

You can’t help it; your face heats up and your heart begins to pound furiously in your chest. Betty is watching you with a smile on her face. “That’s… good.”

“And one more thing. John and I were scheming a little bit over the phone, I’ll just tell you now since I know you’re thinking it, and he just happened to find four extra tickets and backstage passes for tomorrow – well, I guess tonight – at Madison Square Garden.”

You hadn’t really been thinking about Betty and John scheming, although you probably should have, considering Betty had been trying to set you up with a guy forever, even after you started going backstage at rock concerts and hooking up with rockstars. What you had been thinking about was being in another small enclosed space with Roger, his hands gripping your hips, your arms wrapped around his neck, his mouth on yours, just like the afterparty.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?” You snap back to the present. Betty is staring back at you. “I’m going to bed. I, unlike some people, have work tomorrow.”

“Okay. What time do you get off? I mean, since we have a concert to get to.”

Betty smiles knowingly. “I have the ten o’clock tomorrow, so I’ll be out by four. I think I want to bring Sandra with us to the concert, do you have anyone you could bring?”

“Liz,” you say immediately. “We bonded yesterday over our mutual love of the band, right before they came in.” Betty suddenly giggles. “What?”

“I forgot to tell you, I may have mentioned to John that you were working tonight and… I maybe told him which restaurant it was.”

“So you got me stuck at work until three,” you laugh. “You should have known where I was if you told him where I work!”

“I didn’t think they would actually end up there! And especially not for that long! Wait, so that means you saw Roger, right?” Betty asks. You nod. “How did that go? Wait, don’t tell me. I need to go to bed. You can tell me later.”

“Okay,” you say as she heads down the hallway to her bedroom. “Good night!”

As she disappears into her room, you stand and rinse out your bowl of mac and cheese and set it in the dishwasher. As you do, you can’t help but think about what it’ll be like to stand in front of Roger Taylor again, having him all to yourself again, and being able to explain to him why you had left and why you hadn’t wanted to.

And hopefully he would forgive you. And maybe he would kiss you again.

***

The next morning when you wake up, Betty is gone again. Between the two of you working and going to classes, you were rarely home at the same time – even less so if a particularly good band was in town. It was nice, though, to have time apart from each other to relax or do homework. You had lived with Betty for the last three years of your undergraduate careers, and when the time came for graduate school, you and Betty had never even considered living with anyone else. The two of you could understand each other’s crazy schedules and hectic lives, and you supported each other in everything you did – with one notable exception.

You started going to rock concerts your freshman year of college, before you had even met Betty. Rock music had been part of your life since you were born, with your parents constantly playing Elvis, Ray Charles, and Bill Haley. Your first solo venture into the musical scene, like so many other girls your age, had been the Beatles. Then came Pink Floyd, David Bowie, and Led Zeppelin. Then, of course, there was Queen.

So it was safe to say you were a big rock music fan.

The first time you had slept with a musician, he hadn’t been a bona fide rockstar. However, the pure adrenaline you got from catching the eye of one of the men on stage was addicting, and you went to more and more shows, and the eyes that you caught became bigger and bigger stars. Betty, who, while also a rock music fan, tended to stay on the sidelines, was not a huge fan of your little hobby. It all led up to one massive fight at the end of your junior year, where she had called you a few choice names and moved back in with her parents for the summer. You reconciled, obviously, after finding out she was only worried for your health and safety, but she stayed far removed from your whole scene until she just couldn’t bear it anymore, and then you started bringing her to shows in the front row and going backstage. However, you usually kept her away from the afterparties – they were overwhelming and sometimes not entirely safe.

Until Queen came to New York and Betty begged you to bring her along with you to their afterparty. Which is how John Deacon ended up with her phone number.

You spend your morning doing mostly homework for your classes that week, and before you know it, it’s nearly three and you realize you still haven’t called Liz. You know she’s not working tonight, you just hope she doesn’t have other plans.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end is unfamiliar.

“Hi, this is Y/N Y/L/N, one of Liz’s coworkers? Is she there?”

“Yeah, let me go get her for you.” There’s a brief pause, and then Liz gets on the line. “Hello?”

“Hey Liz.”

“Y/N? What’s up?”

“I know this is pretty last minute, but I managed to get tickets for the Queen concert tonight and last night you mentioned wanting to see them while they’re here, so I was just wondering if you wanted to come with me?”

“Oh my God, of course! Thank you so much! How did you even get these tickets so late? I thought the whole show was sold out!”

Yeah, how did you get these tickets? “Would you believe me if I told you my roommate knows the bassist?” Technically, that was true.

Liz laughs. “No, but I appreciate you inviting me so much that I don’t even care. What time should I be ready?”

“The show starts at 7, so we want to be there by probably 6. You can meet us at my apartment at 5 and we’ll head over right after, it’ll probably take a little while to get there with rush hour traffic. You have my address?”

“Yeah! Sounds good. See you soon!” As soon as you hang up, Betty walks through the door, clearly exhausted and frazzled from her day at work.

“How was your day?” You ask.

“Not great! People are assholes.”

“Tell me about it.”

She groans loudly and flops onto the couch. “I just hate my job. I can’t wait until I graduate and can finally get a job in like, the field my degrees are in.”

“Oh, I so agree. But at least we get to go to the concert tonight?”

Betty smiles, her eyes fluttering closed. “Yeah. And we have backstage passes. So you can make up with Roger. Or at least have a conversation you can remember.”

“Haha,” you say sarcastically. “I wasn’t that drunk.”

“Y/N, if you had been making out with just a random guy at a random party instead of Roger Taylor, you wouldn’t even remember his name.”

You laugh. “I mean… you’re probably right. What time is Sandra coming over? Liz is coming at 5.”

“I told her 5 as well. We should probably start getting ready then, right?”

“Definitely.”

***

You’re in the middle of doing your eye makeup when you hear a knock at the door. You quickly finish up with your eyeliner and head to the door to find both Sandra and Liz right on your doorstep, looking perfectly dressed for the show.

“Hey guys!” You say brightly. “Excited for the show?”

“So excited,” Liz exclaims. Sandra nods.

“Yay! Me too.” More than you know.

“I was just telling Sandra while we were outside that the band came into the restaurant yesterday, so we got to see them up close and personal,” Liz says.

Yep. You smile. “Yeah, it was such a cool experience.”

“It sounds like it! What are they like in person?” Sandra asks excitedly.

“I got cut before I could talk to them, I just got to see them come in. Y/N, you stayed till closing, did you get to talk to them?”

“What?” You barely catch the end of Liz’s sentence. “Oh, yeah. Just for a second.” You don’t tell them what Freddie said about you being Roger’s Cinderella, or anything Betty had told you about her phone conversation with John. Obviously. Because that would require a lot of backstory you didn’t want to tell your coworker. Betty is the only person in your life who knows about your little hobby (and your interaction with Roger), and you intend to keep it that way.

“And?” Liz says. She and Sandra are staring at you expectantly.

“Um – they all seem nice. Nicer than most rockstars. Probably.” Too bad all you can remember from your actual conversation with Roger is his wide eyes looking at you softly, you’re something, that’s for sure playing on a loop in your head. “I ran straight into Freddie Mercury when I went to put the silverware in the front and he was perfectly polite about it. He even made a joke or two.”

“Did you talk to Roger at all yesterday?” It’s Betty’s voice, and a shock runs down your spine at the sound of his name.

“Unfortunately, no.” You say, your teeth gritted. She only smiles at you.

“Maybe you will tonight,” she says, then turns to the others. “Ladies, we have backstage passes, so you can finally have those conversations you’ve been dying to have.”

“Oh wow,” Sandra says, shocked.

“You know, maybe now I do believe that you know the band,” Liz says to Betty, a grin spreading over her face.

“Oh honey,” Betty responds. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

You roll your eyes. “Can we go now? It’s a quarter past five in New York and one of the biggest bands in the world is playing at the Garden. It’s going to be a nightmare.”

“Okay, okay,” Betty teases. “I understand.”

The four of you shuffle out the door, you in the front, hurrying towards the street. Thankfully, miraculously, a taxi stops for you almost as soon as you step onto the curb and hold your hand up.

“Evening, ladies,” the driver says. “Where to?”

“Madison Square Garden,” you respond.

“You girls going to the Queen concert?” He asks, his eyes raking over your body, and for a moment you feel utterly exposed. Then you give a sigh of annoyance.

“Yes, and we’re trying to get there before it starts.” You snap.

He holds his hands up in surrender. “C’mon in then, it might take a while.”

“I’m aware,” you mutter, climbing into the backseat of the cab. The four of you squish together in the backseat – no one wants to sit in the front, right next to the slightly creepy cab driver – and Sandra slams the door behind her.

God must be looking out for you, because you only hit traffic once, when you reach 27th Street, and at that point it’s only 5:30 and you’re six blocks from the Garden, so you can relax a little. The car is nearly silent as you sit in standstill traffic, which is odd because you’ve never known your friends to be so quiet. The only thing puncturing the silence is the occasional honk from one of the cars around you – and by occasional you mean every fifteen seconds or so – and yet you’re still grateful to live in what you consider the best city in the world.

You sit in traffic on 27th for about twenty minutes, and then things finally start moving again and you can see Madison Square Garden’s magnificent shape start to appear on your right. Excitement pools in your stomach and a wide smile spreads across your face. You love Madison Square Garden and you love rock and roll and you love your friends and you love Queen.

And you have backstage passes, which means no having to persuade the crew to let you backstage to talk to the band. For once, the band knows you and they want you backstage. At least you think they do.

***

Roger has a girl under his arm, because of course he does. It’s half past five, and his friends are relaxing in the dressing room backstage, talking loudly amongst themselves and laughing, but Roger is stuck in his own head. The girl – he can’t remember her name – has her hand on his thigh, and every so often she inches it slightly further up, but he doesn’t care the same way he usually would. He doesn’t know this girl’s name and he doesn’t care that she’s hoping he’ll live up to his reputation in the half hour or so before they go onstage. What he does care about is his run-in with another girl last night – a girl he can’t seem to forget.

“Roger,” the girl whimpers. “Can’t we have a little fun? We’ve just been sitting here doing nothing all evening!”

She doesn’t speak too loudly, but the rest of the band can hear her. “Yeah Rog, why’re you so upset?” Brian laughs.

“You’re all bloody annoying,” Roger snaps. It’s not meant to be funny, but of course the others burst into laughter.

“Really? How absolutely unusual,” Freddie chuckles. “But wait, Roger, would you still be annoyed if Deaky told you he invited his little girlfriend and some of her friends to the show tonight?”

Roger jolts forward, letting the other girl fall out from under his arm, and the moment he does it he wishes he hadn’t; he wishes he could look as disinterested as possible. But of course he can’t – he’s been wishing for another chance to talk with Y/N since the moment she left him alone at his party two nights ago.

“Oh, look at him,” Freddie whispers. “There must be a fairy godmother in here somewhere.” The others laugh.

Roger clears his throat. “I don’t care. She doesn’t want to talk to me, and I know that, so I’m done.”

“Do you, though?” Deaky smirks. “I had a very interesting conversation with her lovely roommate, who happened to tell me that when they had to leave that night, it was all because she had to work early the next morning.”

“So it wasn’t Cinderella’s fault, then,” Freddie says. “Hmm. Interesting.” Roger’s heart free-falls into his stomach. She hadn’t left him on purpose.

“Also,” Deaky continues. “I got them backstage passes for after the concert. Although I’m sure Cinderella doesn’t need them, considering how you met her in the first place.”

“Who’s Cinderella?” It’s the other girl. Roger had all but forgotten about her, he was too invested in Deaky’s words.

“A princess,” Roger says. “From a fairytale.”

“Now that was cheesy,” Brian laughs. “You’re better than that, Rog.”

“C’mon, boys.” Freddie stands up from his seat on the couch. “We’ve only got twenty minutes before showtime, we’d better get going.”

***

The seats John had given Betty were better than you could have ever dreamed. You had been third row or closer at many concerts, but none this big. None at Madison Square Garden. You could see everything.

And every time Roger looked up from his perch behind the drum set, you knew what he was thinking about. You knew because you were thinking the same thing.

The concert goes by in the blink of an eye. You certainly didn’t pay as much attention as the first time around, but a lot of things were different the first time around. Soon enough, though, it’s over, and Liz is tugging you excitedly towards the backstage entrance, where plenty of girls were already crowded. You recognize a few of them from other concerts, other parties, and for a moment a bolt of jealousy runs through you. Then one of the crew members starts speaking.

“Okay ladies, do any of you actually have backstage passes?”

“We do!” You exclaim, pushing through the sea of girls until the four of you are at the front, standing right before the crew member.

“You were just here two nights ago,” he starts. “And you didn’t have backstage passes then.”

“And yet somehow I still made it inside,” you smirk, forgetting for a moment that one of your coworkers is right behind you, watching you work your magic. “It doesn’t matter, though, because this time I actually do have backstage passes. All four of us do, actually.”

“Uh huh,” the man replies. “I’ll go ask the band then. What’s your name? Your real name. I know you groupies don’t always use your real names.”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You say with a smile. He grumbles, but heads backstage anyway.

Liz looks at you as if she’s never seen you before. “You went backstage at the last concert?”

“Um… yeah,” you answer.

“So last night at work wasn’t the first time you’d met them?”

“Not exactly,” you say hesitantly.

“And that guy – that crew guy – he called you a groupie?!”

You smile uncomfortably, making eye contact with Betty over the top of Liz’s head. Betty opens her mouth to speak, but before she can say anything the man comes back.

“Congratulations, Ms. Y/L/N, Mr. Mercury himself says you and your friends are on the list, so I guess I’ve gotta let you in this time.”

“Thank you!” You say cheerfully, stepping past him and heading backstage. Betty slides up next to you, letting Sandra and Liz talk between themselves.

“Are you good with Liz knowing about all this?” She asks, her voice quiet.

“I didn’t confirm I was a groupie,” you answer.

“Yeah, but it seemed pretty obvious with the way you were talking to that guy. About making it backstage last time.”

“It’s okay,” you sigh. “I’ll figure something out.”

The two of you are quiet for another minute before Betty speaks again. “So are you excited? About seeing Roger again?”

You can’t keep the smile from spreading across your face. “Yeah. Especially with what you said about what the band said about me.”

The four of you turn the corner into the open dressing room and there they are, in all their glory. Freddie, Brian, John, Roger – and a girl, nestled into Roger’s chest, next to him on the couch.

Your stomach drops as you watch Roger look at the girl. You were right, then, and John had been wrong. Roger had replaced you, and you know you don’t have the right to be so hurt, but you’re hurt all the same.

Betty is looking at you with a shocked expression on her face, you can see it out of the corner of your eye, but you can’t focus on her. You can’t focus on the band, who are all looking at you with the same dispirited look as Betty. All you can focus on is Roger. His shirt is open again, chest still glistening with sweat, his long hair messy.

“Roger,” John mutters.

Roger sighs. “What?”

John gestures so slightly that you wouldn’t have caught it if you hadn’t been watching every second of this interaction. Roger follows his friend’s gaze – and lands on you. And then he scrambles to his feet, leaving the girl alone on the couch. You can hear Liz and Betty and Sandra talking with wonder about the situation, but all of that fades out as you make eye contact with Roger. You had always heard people say that the eyes are windows to the soul, but you had never believed them until now. You had never been so happy to be wrong.

“What am I supposed to do now?” The girl screeches from behind you.

“We’re going to leave now, I think,” Brian says. “If you ladies would like to join us. I get the feeling that Roger and his Cinderella probably want some alone time.”

Everyone shuffles out of the room, with John and Betty bringing up the rear, closing the door behind them. Everything is so still and so silent, and all of the sudden you get nervous again. Part of you wishes that you had a little alcohol in you, so that everything would be easier to say, but a much bigger part of you wants to remember every detail of this conversation.

“Hi,” Roger says, breaking the silence.

“Hi,” you respond. “I’m sorry about the other night. I would never have left if I didn’t have to. And I didn’t even have to, Betty had to, and if I was a worse friend, and I was really feeling like it at that moment, I would have let her go home by herself, but we live on the other side of town and it was really late and I would rather die than have something terrible happen to her, and – are you listening to me?”

He’s not. His eyes are fixated on your lips. “Hmm? Yeah. I know, Deaky told me. I don’t blame you. I’m sorry – can I kiss you?”

You hadn’t expected things to be moving this fast, but the afterparty seems like it was so long ago and you’ve been dying for this moment for what feels like years, so you nod, lifting your eyes to meet his, and one of his hands reaches up to gently cradle your cheek while the other settles on your waist. He leans down, torturously slowly – he’s so much taller than you – and finally his lips find yours.

Again, like the first time, it’s soft and sweet. He moves so that both of his hands are on your waist and pulls you closer to him, which hardly seems possible at this point, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

He pulls away for a second. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I know I came off like a dick last night at the restaurant, but I just thought you didn’t want to see me.”

You laugh softly. “It’s okay, it’s not like I said anything either.”

This time, he kisses you more roughly, leading you to the couch. This all feels so startlingly similar to the first time it happened, you can hardly breathe. This time, though, you’re fully aware that you’re on his lap, and when his hands find their way under your shirt, you let him take it off. You’re fully alone in this dressing room, the door is closed, and you’re with one of the band members. Nothing bad can happen.

He takes your shirt off and tosses it to the side, wasting no time in attaching his lips to your neck, trailing sloppy kisses down your neck and onto your collarbone. You let your head fall back, giving him more access. He leaves a trail of hickeys behind – your eyes are closed, but you can tell – and you let out a breathy moan as a knot begins to form in your lower stomach. His hands find the clasp of your bra, and just as he starts to unclasp it –

“Oh, fuck. Sorry mate.” It’s Brian. You sigh, sliding off Roger’s lap and covering yourself as best you can. “Didn’t think it’d be dangerous to come back in so quickly, but I should have known better.”

You know you must look like a mess, because Roger certainly does. His hair is all over the place, his pupils are blown wide, his lips are swollen and tinted darker red than normal from your lipstick. And obviously Brian walked in on you almost completely topless, dark hickeys spotting your neck and upper chest.

“Okay thanks,” Roger says politely. “Now piss off.”

Brian holds his hands up in surrender, stepping out of the room and slamming the door closed behind him. Roger turns to you then, his hands reaching for your hips, and you giggle.

“What?”

“Sorry, you just –“ You reach up to fix one piece of hair that had fallen (been pulled) out of place. He takes your wrist and pulls you close to him. You kiss him again, gently, and then pull back. “I’m sorry. I just can’t remember our first conversation and I really want to. Can you remind me?”

“What makes you think I can?” He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your jaw.

“I don’t know, I just thought maybe you could handle your liquor better than me.”

“Mhm, probably,” he hums. You can feel the vibrations from his voice reverberating in your chest.

“I’m serious,” you laugh. He looks up at you, his eyes sparkling.

“Well,” he says, leaning back against the couch. “You said that you were halfway through your second year of graduate school for… I don’t remember exactly?”

“Public health,” you say.

“Public health,” he repeats. “I remember thinking that was pretty cool, that you wanted to help people like that.”

You beam. “Yeah, I’ve always been interested in it.”

“That was pretty much the most coherent thing you said all night, which was cute. You obviously really care about it. You talked about your family, and how much you love Betty and New York and rock music.”

“Oh, God, of course.” You groan, blushing.

“Don’t worry!” He exclaims. “It was cute. You’re cute.”

Everything is soft and silent for a moment, besides the pounding of two hearts. You had been in this situation before, in the dressing room of a rockstar, just the two of you. But you as you sit with your head on his shoulder, you feel an unmistakeable wave of peace crash over you.

And that had never happened before.

“‘m tired,” Roger says suddenly. “D’ya wanna take a nap?”

You’re on cloud nine and there’s still so much adrenaline running through you that you can’t imagine falling asleep, but he looks so cute and soft that you can’t say no. He smiles and shifts so he’s laying down with you on top of him, his arms wrapped around your waist and your cheek resting against his heart. You don’t think you’ll fall asleep, but Roger’s breathing slows and his heart beats rhythmically in your ear, and before you know it you’re fast asleep.

***

Roger wakes up first. He wakes up to find you resting peacefully on his chest, your face completely free of any stress that may have lingered there earlier in the day. There’s a pang in his heart, and it takes a second to recognize it, and when he does he’s terrified. He’s only felt it one or two other times in his life – it’s the feeling you get when you’re on the precipice of something big, your stomach dropping in a good way when a rollercoaster hits its first big drop. His heart beats furiously, threatening to break out of his ribcage.

It’s the feeling he gets when he knows he could fall in love.

You wake up, your eyes fluttering open, and he’s suddenly embarrassed by the intensity of his heartbeat. You are so beautiful and interesting and smart, and he’s never met anyone like you before.

You’re something. That’s for sure.

“Hi,” you say softly. He smiles, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

“Hi.”

“Do you know what time it is?” You ask, not really wanting to know the answer. You want to stay here, laying with Roger, forever.

He sighs. “No, but I don’t want to know.”

“Me neither,” you smile. For a few brief, beautiful moments, it’s just you and him, laying intertwined on the couch in the dressing room of Madison Square Garden.

And then someone knocks on the door. And you remember that other people exist and the world isn’t just this dressing room.

And you’re still not wearing a shirt.

Roger groans. “Just a minute.”

You scramble off of him, looking for your shirt and throwing it on once you find it crumpled in a ball in the corner of the room. You turn back to look at him, but he’s already looking, a dazed expression on his face, his cheeks pink. You can hardly contain the smile on your face, and for the first time, you hear it. That little voice in your head. You could fall in love with him.

You bite your lip, opening the door, and Betty stands behind it. Roger sighs from behind you. “Are you gonna take my girl from me again?”

Betty’s eyes widen. “Uh – it’s just getting late. We haven’t seen you in a while and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“She’s better than okay!” Roger yells.

“Roger,” it’s John this time. “We’ve gotta go to the hotel soon. We’re leaving tomorrow morning, y’know.”

Right. They were still on tour. They had thousands more fans to see, hundreds more tour dates in all different cities all across the world.

Roger doesn’t belong to you.

“Yeah, I know,” Roger says tersely. “Just give us a minute.” They look at the two of you, then each other, and leave again, closing the door behind them.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair, and sit down next to Roger. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and you rest your head against his shoulder. It all feels so incredibly natural, you can’t imagine what it’ll feel like to go back to your apartment, knowing you’ll never see him again. Knowing it’ll never be this way again.

“Come on tour with me,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence. You sit up in shock, turning to look at him. It’s clear on his face that he means it, that he wants you there, and for a moment you feel warm all over. You’ve never been on tour with a band before, and his offer is so incredibly tempting. But –

“I can’t.” Your voice is so quiet, he has to strain to hear it. “I have a job, and I have classes – I’m halfway through getting my degree, Roger. And then I can finally have the job that I want, one where I can make a difference and help people. I would love nothing more than to go with you and watch you perform every night and see the whole world, but… I can’t.”

“You can,” he urges. “You can take a few weeks off of work and school and come with us. And we can get to know each other better.”

You know what he’s saying. You would get to know each other better and you would fall in love with him, and then he would break your heart. You would be silly not to think of who was asking you this, and how he had met you, and how he’d been with another girl when you had first arrived.

“I can’t.” Your voice cracks, and the look on his face is so heartbroken that you can’t help it. Tears begin to fill your eyes. “I’m sorry. I want to, I really do. I just… my whole life is here. I can’t just leave like this. I wish I could.”

He laughs, but there’s no humor behind it. Some vague, disconnected part of your mind that isn’t experiencing excruciating pain wonders if this is the first time he’s ever been in a position like this one. “I understand.” He says. His voice is small – the complete opposite of the proud, cocky drummer you met at the afterparty of one of his shows just two short days ago. It feels like it’s been a lifetime.

“Call me if you’re ever in New York again,” you say. You know he will be. “You have my number now, you know.”

He chuckles softly. “I will.”

You know he won’t. By the time Queen comes back to New York, your face will have faded from his memory and blended with hundreds of other girls, and he will have forgotten everything about you that made him feel light as air. He’ll forget you, you know. And you have to make your peace with it. It’ll be hard – because these last few days are engraved in your memory forever. He’s Roger Taylor.

And you’re you.

You leave him sitting on the couch, as close to a broken heart as you could both possibly be, and go to find Betty. And when you do, you can’t help the tears from spilling over, and Betty and Liz and Sandra scoop you up into a big hug and you leave Madison Square Garden, a little piece of your heart still in that dressing room.

•••

It took time. It hurt for months afterwards to see magazines with his face on them and to hear his songs. During those months you threw yourself into your groupie lifestyle more than ever before, causing more than a few blowout fights with Betty. You argued that nothing was wrong – you were passing all your classes with flying colors and doing extraordinarily well at your job. But obviously something was wrong, and it wasn’t something anything but time could fix.

But as the months went by, it began to hurt less and less until all you were left with were the beautiful memories of two perfect nights with Roger Taylor. You thought about him often, especially when you were at a rock concert and you happened to make eye contact with one of the men on stage. After a while, the thrill of sneaking backstage and hooking up with rockstars wasn’t good enough to fill that hole in your heart. You threw yourself back into your studies and prepared to graduate in May of 1979 with your master’s degree in public health. Things went well for a long time. You felt almost fully healed all the way through the summer of 1978, when Queen announced their Jazz tour. And that ripped the wound open all over again.

New York City, November 16, 1978

It’s a chilly, cloudy day in New York – a typical November day for New York City – and you’re in the process of finishing up some homework when it happens.You’re actually so deeply invested in your work that you barely hear it at first. It takes Betty yelling from the next room over for you to notice.

“Y/N, the phone is ringing!”

“I got it!” You shout back, standing up.

“I sure hope so, considering I’m leaving for work in thirty seconds!”

Sighing, you hurry into the kitchen to pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi.” Your heart drops to your knees and you get so lightheaded you nearly faint and have to sit down at the kitchen table. It’s him. It’s Roger, and you haven’t heard from him since that fateful night at Madison Square Garden. “I’m back in New York for a few days and managed to find you a few extra tickets to the show tonight. I wanted to let you know that my offer still stands. I never forgot.”

It only takes you a second to consider what he’s asking. “Yes,” you say breathlessly. “I’m graduating in May and then I’ll follow you anywhere.”

[doctormage]

hi i just need to be really dramatic and long winded bc if i dont get it Out im going to fucking explode

ive actually been trying really hard this semester with my thesis and its REALLY fucking difficult for me. my depression makes me catatonic and unable to complete simple tasks or be motivated to do literally anything; my anxiety paralyzes me at the slightest unexpected change and then obsess over whether everyone in my life hates me because of my anxiety; my sleep schedule is constantly fucked and my doctor is unhelpful; my bdd will sidetrack me from my work and responsibilities for literal hours or days, and sometimes if its feeling spicy send me on a full scale fucking breakdown; and my adhd makes all this shit worse on TOP of all the NORMAL adhd shit. like thats just!!! my life!!!! at all times!!!!! and there have been several times where i have genuinely considered leaving this program or not continuing school after bc i was so fucking overwhelmed and exhausted and scared but i didnt!!! like i make a lot of jokes about procrastinating and wasting my time and doing the least and whatever but in reality its really fucking difficult for me even when im medicated!!! but i dont like admitting that bc of all my exhausting childhood baggage and shit but that is not the point of this rant so anyway

this semester i made a specific effort to try and be a better student even tho all of this stuff has been exacerbated by grad school. i felt i owed it to my director and one of my committee members because theyve been so fucking helpful and put their faith in me and took a lot of their time to help me. i wanted to show them i was worthy of it and capable of being a good student who does all the shit she’s supposed to do, does it well, and does it on time. i overloaded my fall semester and nearly lost my goddamn mind JUST to have a lighter class load this semester so i could focus most of my time on my thesis (like for real that was actually incredibly stupid of me. i lost almost 30 pounds from september to december without conscious effort just because i was so fucking stressed. not a brag and actually kind of concerning bc that has LITERALLY never happened to me). it has been like....significantly taxing, but i wanted to show them how much i appreciate their time and effort and help by being responsible and respectful. my Trying Hard is a lot of people’s Barely Doing Their Best and i know that. turning something in 2 hours early is below average for some but for me, literally anything more than 30 minutes before its due is an actual goddamn miracle. but i wanted to work hard and do things right for my committee members because they deserve it

this christmas my parents asked what i wanted and the ONLY thing i asked for was help with my library dues. last year from like march to october i was significantly depressed and entirely out of my head, and i racked up some pretty bad overdue fees. i didnt even ask them to pay all of it, just some of it. less than $100. im really truly grateful for the gifts they DID get me, but i didnt ask for them for any of it, and my overdue fees were left alone. i was under the impression that they got paid and, like a fucking idiot, i didnt check up on it to confirm. ive been so hell deep in my thesis and teaching and grading and applying to phd programs and looking for apartments and shit that it really just slipped my fucking mind!!! crazy!!!!

today i was in crisis bc i thought i fucked up with scheduling my defense/exam/whatever the fuck. im going to call it defense and i dont give a shit bc everyone calls it some other shit and i dont CARE. anyway i really thought i fucked up but i went and talked it out with my director and it was all sorted out. i’ve gotten like 50% of her feedback on my thesis draft, which i’ve incorporated, and im waiting on comments from another reader (the other helpful person on my committee). we have to run some dumbass software before scheduling, so i ran it today and tried to schedule it but couldnt bc theres a hold on my account. i went on a fucking....ALMIGHTY QUEST to figure it out and i finally discovered that guess what!!!!!!! its my GODDAMN LIBRARY OVERDUE FEES!!!!!! THAT I THOUGHT WERE PAID!!!!!!! i had to pay them myself which is fine idc but it takes several days to process. this fucks up my life on SEVERAL levels

for one, its fucking impossible to get a hold of my third committee member. she is a vapor in the wind. shes like super busy and thats all good and well but the point is theres like zero communication there. i finally got confirmation on a defense date from all 3 members and had been literally planning MY ENTIRE LIFE around this date. after todays first scheduling crisis i was so happy i was still on track, but now this? now i have to wait 3-4 days before i can even SCHEDULE the defense. the super delightful part is that we have to schedule a minimum of 2 weeks in advance. so now i cant schedule my defense until tuesday at the absolute earliest, but that ALSO bumps my defense date several days ahead. i have no fucking clue if my committee is going to agree on another day that works for everyone bc theyre all busy as shit and we’d been working toward the original date for weeks if not months, and im so fucking upset because this is exactly what i DIDNT want to have happen. i havent tried to email them yet because im hoping beyond fucking hope i can call somebody at the university tomorrow and see if the hold is something else besides the fee, but it makes me sick to think of having to be like “oh sorry i know i constantly fuck up everything ever and im a piece of shit but can we change this date we’ve had set since january because i was an extra shitty piece of shit this time??” like OHHH MY GODDDDD

and the thing thats really fucking with me is that like, yes its my fault but this one time its not ENTIRELY 100% my fault. i asked for a favor and had the understanding that it was taken care of. yes the fees were my doing and yes i shouldve checked but oh my fucking god. i feel like all the effort ive put into being a better student this semester has been for fucking nothing because im going to have to email my committee asking for a different date and ruin all their fucking lives and theyll be so disappointed in me. i have like legitimately been crying on and off about it since like 4:30 today

it so shitty in and of itself but i especially dont want to do this to my director bc she is legitimately the reason im finishing this program AND that im going to a phd program. a year ago i’d barely spoken 20 words to her but she still agreed to be a reader on my committee just because she heard me explain my thesis for all of 30 seconds and decided to give it a try. she literally had not read a song of ice and fire at the time and she started reading them for me to help me with my thesis. in the fall when my original director basically threatened to leave my committee if i didnt change all my ideas, my current director stepped in and helped me and talked me through it and then offered to take her place even though my research is BARELY distantly related to hers. through all of this she’s been so insanely patient with me, super encouraging of my ideas both in this project and in others, helped me decide whether it was right for me to get my phd immediately after my masters, proofed and edited and helped me with ALL my phd application materials, and STILL is in the process of reading these goddamn books just to be a better director. i have lost my head so many times and shes always been there to help me figure my shit out, and i wanted to have it figured out for once. how stupid of me

like bumping the date isnt the end of the whole world but its really not just about the fact that i have to reschedule. i was trying real goddamn hard to be a better student this semester and i REALLY fucking owed it to my director and other reader, but especially director, and i still managed to fuck up this bad. i feel like such a DISAPPOINTMENT and it just will not leave my brain bc im so mad at myself. i tried watching shows and youtube compilations about game of thrones and shit but now my bf is asleep and im alone and its all i can think about. im so fucking tired of being the person i am honestly and i dont mean that in an edgy way its just like jesus christ i wish there was less shit wrong with me. i wish i had any kind of willpower or discipline so i couldve learned these skills and been a better student from the start. i wish i wasnt a giant piece of shit!!!!! 

and now im going to be up late being anxious about all this which means that i will, once again, wake up late but also still be really exhausted, which means i’ll do a shitty job teaching and get overwhelmed by everything and who the fuck knows what fun bullshittery will ensue because of it. i am so fucking tired of me and my fuckery and the fact that it fucks with other people even why i try so hard for it not to. tired!!!!!!!! fucking tired