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darkdevasofdestruction · 4 years ago

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Remember Me ~ Worick Arcangelo x Reader

Disclaimer: This is going to have mentions of past abuse and supposedly illegal behaviour, but considering it’s Gangsta we’re talking about, I don’t think anyone should be surprised by darker themes addresses.

Birthdays...Have always been tedious. A drag. More work than they are worth...So, I wonder...Why do I actually bother doing a party at my home?

I mean, it’s true, I get it, I’m 21, I’m of age...Legally an adult, legally allowed to drink, legally everything whatever...The same as it has been for the past 3 years...

And MAYBE it’s fun to sometimes gather around with your friends and do the same things everyone always does at parties, loud music, alcohol, cigarettes and gossips...

But there is always that annoying anxiety feeling surging through my veins whenever I have to be around more than 3 of my friends, considering this is a party organised by me, and everything has to be done perfectly, everyone must feel good, and at home, not to be left out...

I can already envision myself being the only outcast, anyway, but that’s besides the point.

It’s already evening, the alcohol is sitting on the table, the pizza boxes are stacked up in a mountain on the floor, plastic cups everywhere, ash trays placed strategically, dim lights, coloured light projectors to make the room look like a disco...

And then there’s me. Sitting anxiously on the couch in the living room, dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a long plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, along with some silver rings and a necklace. Casual, comfy, yet pretty elegant in its simplicity.

My friends arrived soon, very loudly congratulating me on aging one more year, fantastic...But they had a mischievous smirk on their faces...

And they brought in a tall, blond man who looked very macho, and I could only blink in confusion as everyone walked inside.

“Uhm...Who is he? One of yours boyfriend or something?” I asked, eyeing everyone attentively. “Nooo, silly! He’s our gift for you!” my best friend grabbed the man by his arm, shoving him towards me. “I’m...Not sure I follow.” I spoke with even more unease, not wanting to believe what I was hearing. “He’s Ergastulum’s most wanted Gigolo! And tonight, he’s all yours to do with as you please! C’mon, you deserve to let loose and have fun once in a while, y’know? Forget about all those jerks and enjoy pleasure like you’ve never felt before~!” my other best friend grabbed me by my shoulders from behind, putting her chin on top of one of her hands, slurring seductively. “...I see.” I muttered, looking away, trying to mask my displeasure at what I was hearing. “Anyway, let’s get you drunk! You won’t get to enjoy anything if you’re so cold and reserved with everyone, y’know? Maybe that’s why you’re always alone! Now c’mon, let’s have fun!” she dragged me to the drinks table, and we started playing drinking games like never have I ever...

Gotta say, Vodka and Bailey’s has always been a shot combination that I adore, and I’m grateful that it takes a long time to get me drunk, because these girls are wasted, while I’m not, so I can escape their grasp. Drunk dancing isn’t that fun, even to watch, and they were making fools of themselves, screeching, giggling...More or less sounding like pained donkeys.

Or maybe I’m just too judgemental and mean because I’ve been in a bad mood and spiraling since they got in my home. To be fair, I don’t even care what is the truth. These are my feelings and I’m not going to play them off as insignificant or non-existent.

Eyeing them carefully, I take a pack of cigarettes and make my way out of the house and sit on the stairs, taking a deep breath of the cold winter night air, I light up a cigarette, taking a drag and staring up at the sky, letting my endless train of toxic thoughts overwhelm me.

I was so long in my own mind that I didn’t notice the door opening until a shadow blocked my vision, and I noticed the platinum blond man sitting down on the stairs below me, resting his back on the wall on the side.

“Y’know...I haven’t been to many birthday parties before, but I’m pretty sure the birthday girl is supposed to be pampered and the center of attention, and yet, here you are, outside, alone and sad.” the man spoke seriously, with his usual light glint. “How much did they pay you?” I muttered, lighting another cigarette, realising that the other one burn without taking another drag of it. “Hmmm? What do you mean?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at me. “I’m tipsy, not stupid. You think I can’t think rationally after 8 shots? You’re dead wrong. Now, tell me, how much did they pay you and what exactly did they tell you to do?” I asked in a pressed tone, side-eyeing him. “You’re certainly perceptive, I give you that. T’was quite a lot of money to spend the night with you.” he tilted his head in a playful way. “Not only they have no faith in me to get someone to even remotely like me...They have to pay someone to do something that I dread with a burning passion. Do you even know my name? I don’t know yours.” I shrugged, hanging my head, gritting my teeth in annoyance. “I see your friends screwed up a bit. Name’s Worick, nice to meet you.” he extended his hand towards me. “...Y/N. Nice to meet you too...I think.” I sighed, staring reluctantly at his hand, before slowly shaking it. “Pretty name for a pretty girl. Wanna talk to a guy you’ll never see again? I heard that venting and letting out pent up emotions helps.” he offered, making me look at him with a weird face. “You know you’re not gonna get any action, so you try to do something for the money you earned, huh?” I snorted, raking my fingers through my hair. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. Contrary to my profession, I’m a pretty chill guy. What do you have to lose, talking to someone you’ll never see again? And besides, I have little room to judge you, so if that’s your worry, you can throw it away.” he lit up a cigarette, puffing up into the sky. “You’re...Not wrong here. Okay, fine, Pretty Boy. Imagine this. You’re not even of age, you get your first lover and you’re happy. You finally feel superior. Someone gives a fuck about you...That’s the definition of a lover, after all, I guess...But here’s the deal. Barely one month into the relationship, the person starts getting very pushy and pressures you, without you realising. Words and actions. It goes to the point that they force you to do things that you don’t want to and you’re not ready to, mentally or physically...And you can’t do anything except for denying, since they don’t listen and they overpower you. How is that, so far?” I spoke, taking a few breaks in between sentences to keep myself grounded and lucid. “Very suckish. Does any of your friends know that?” Worick asked in a gentle voice. “They do...My two best friends do. The ones who apparently paid you. I don’t know what’s in those tiny brains of theirs, but I don’t think a one night stand is going to somehow magically get me rid of all problems, traumas, self-issues and nightmares I’ve been having for the last years. Or maybe I’m just paranoid. I don’t know, and at this point, I can’t stay that I care.” I shrugged, leaning back on the stairs. “Maybe you have the wrongs friends. I heard words about you that I don’t think friends should speak like that about their so called best friend who trusted them enough with their bad experiences.” he pointed out nonchalantly, as I shifted my gaze towards him with a frown. “After today...I...Think the same. I...Just...Wasn’t expecting something like this. What more can I say. I am disappointed. And if that wasn’t enough, my second boyfriend, who was a virgin, saw my own virginity as a prize. And the third pity-dated me. Can it get any worse? Because, if yes, I honestly give up.” I sighed, ruffling my hair, obviously done with life. “Life sure sucks, huh? And most people don’t make it any better. All we can do is get stronger, carry on, and fight our nightmares.” he nodded in agreement, clearly sympathetic. “...I see you’re speaking from experience. I wonder what happened to your eye...It may sound insensitive, but after what I just told you, I don’t think there’s any more need for caution.” I smirked at him with a dark sort of self-deprecation that I could also sense in him. “Well, y’know...Sometimes parents aren’t the safe haven they ought to be.” he shrugged, extinguishing the finished cigarette on the stairs. “I see. Yeah, life sucks. I guess I can see why you become a Gigolo. An attractive guy selling his body for money...By what they said, you are the most popular. I can see why. I feel sorry for you.” I gave him a sympathetic smile that disappeared as fast as it came. “You have a pretty smile, y’know? I always thought that people who can smile despite all they’ve been through are the strongest.” he commented, smiling back. “Is that why you appear to be so cheerful? You’re strong, not only physically, but mentally and emotionally too? Wish I was the same. Maybe people won’t find me such an easy target to take advantage of.” I snorted sarcastically, making him chuckle. “It’s a pity people are shit to the few remaining ones who don’t give in to society’s awfulness. But what is a sweet girl like you doing in a shithole like Ergastulum? Doesn’t quite add up.” he asked, getting in a better sitting position. “Life happened. Dad left us, and mum is abroad working to get me enough money to go to university by the end of this year. This place, despite how scary and dangerous it is, was the cheapest place I could afford.” I bit my lip, trying not to worry too much about the future. “I’m sure you’re gonna nail it, so don’t worry too much. You seem like a smart girl, so just study hard and don’t forget to enjoy life. By your standards, not others’.” he smirked, tilting his head towards the door. “You’re funny, Worick. I wish we met under different circumstances.” my voice became lower, only to get interrupted by the door slamming open and the girls leaving the place. “Well, look at you two, lovebirds! You look so cuuuuuuuute! Hey, Gigolo, better take good care of her, got it?! The night is still young for you two! Awesome birthday party, as usual, Y/N, see ya next time!” the girls left, making me blush from embarassment, looking away. “You’ve got very sensible friends.” he muttered ironically, shaking his head. “I’ll...Go tidy the apartment. Maybe I’ll be able to focus on something else. Come one, I’ll warm up some pizza.” I shrugged, getting inside the house. “I didn’t think you’d want me around in your home.” Worick pointed out, leaning on a wall. “You got paid to spend the night with me, correct? Then you’ll do what you got paid for. Keeping me company. You have no idea how refreshing it is talking to someone with some fucking brain in their head.” I plopped down on the couch, putting my feet on the table, turning on the TV to a rock music program and patting the seat next to me for him to join. “It’s an honour to spend time with you.” he chuckled, taking a slice of pizza, leaning back on the couch and mimicking my position.

For the rest of the night, he was gracious enough to help me tidy up and clean everything, and when we were finally done, I went to change in my nightgown, taking a book and getting in bed, only to see the man leaning on the frame of the door awkwardly.

“Ah, yes, how could I forget. Let me find some larger clothes for you to change into.” I put the book down, going to the wardrobe and finding some oversized clothes in which I sometimes sleep. “Are these yours?” he chuckled in amusement. “Yep.Gotta be comfy when you sleep, right?” I shrugged, getting back in bed. “Yeah, you’re right. That’s why I sleep naked.” his grin grew wider, making me frown in confusion. “Sleeping naked is comfy for you?” I put the book on my lap, looking at him for an answer. “Did you try?” he asked smugly. “Yeah. I felt incredibly uncomfortable and anxious the for hours and couldn’t sleep. At 4 AM I couldn’t stand it any longer and I put a nightgown on.” I scratched my cheek, looking away. “That’s adorable. What were you reading?” he asked, getting closer to me. “Get changed and you can come over. I’m not letting you sleep on the couch. You got paid, you deserve better.” I waved my hand at him dismissively, only for him to leave the room, get changed, take the book from my hand, flip through all the pages, and return it. “Ah, Picture of Dorian Gray. I’ve been wanting to read it for a while, thanks for the opportunity, I have to say, I rather appreciate his monologues.” he gave me a shit-eating grin, plopping in bed next to me. “I...You...Huh?! You can’t tell me you just read THIS book, right now, for the first time in your life, by just flipping rapidly through the pages!” my expression was that of pure shock and disbelief, which clearly amused him. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, sweet cheeks.” he smirked, laying his head down on the pillow. “You...You have an extraordinary visual memory?!” I asked in a voice that I wasn’t sure was heard. “You’ve got that right, darling.” he chuckled with a satisfied smile. “...WHY THE HELL ARE YOU A PROSTITUTE?! YOU ARE A GENIUS! YOU COULD DO SO MUCH MORE WITH YOUR LIFE! EARN AN UNBELIEVABLE AMOUNT OF MONEY! DO YOU HAVE NO AMBITION AND SAFE-LOVE?!” I grab him by the shoulders, shaking him, until he stopped me. “Calm doooown, Y/N, calm down. Thanks for looking out for me, but life is life. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got all I need here. You, however, have the whole life ahead of you, so don’t waste it like I did.” he advised in a soft voice, making me look at him for a few seconds, before sighing, getting up, and picking another book. “We won’t be seeing each other again, will we? Well, if that’s the case, take this. It’s a thanks for being nice to me today...But promise me you will take your time reading it, unlike now. Rest, relax, drink a hot cup of tea, and read each page carefully. Enjoy it, live it, feel it. Can you promise me that?” I asked, handing him the book. “The Hobbit, huh? Pretty cover, intriguing summary on the back...Fine, Y/N. I can’t 100% promise you, but I will try. Are you really willing to part with this one? It seems special for you.” he asked, more serious this time. “...Maybe sometimes the stupid ideas that your heart gives you are better than the rational ones from your brain. Now go sleep, I want to read.” I looked away from him, opening my book and pretending to read, away from him.

Five minutes passed, then ten, and fifteen, all of them in a deadly silence, almost awkward, until a chuckle split the atmosphere, making me turn around, looking at the man with a confused look.

“Usually, when people read, they turn the page after five minutes. What’s on your mind?” he asked, taking a strand of my hair and loosely twirling it with his finger. “..Well...You’re a stranger. And...We’ve only talked for a few hours. I know it makes no sense to ask this of you, but...I won’t be seeing you tomorrow anyway, so...Uhm...Do you think...I'm...Cold and mean...And unapproachable?” I mutter, looking away from him. “Not at all. I find you very endearing. The quiet ones are always the ones who have the best surprises once you get to know them. People deal with problems differently, it just takes the right person to want to understand you.” he kissed the strand of hair, making me bite my lip and turn off the lap light so my possibly pink cheeks won’t be noticeable. “Great. Thanks for the info. Now...How about you earn the money you got paid? You can do that by holding me and playing with my hair until I fall asleep.” I try to keep my voice from wavering. “You don’t have to put that pretext as a front, I would do that even if I wasn’t paid.” he chuckled lightly, holding me close to his chest, his fingers masterfully soothing my senses as he caressed by hair. “...Thanks.” I muttered, hiding my flustered face in his chest. “I have insomnia and general sleeping problems, including sleep paralysis and nightmares...And the only thing that used to be able to put me to sleep without waking up in the middle of the night would be mum holding me and playing with my hair until I fell asleep.” I confessed, my voice becoming softer and more emotional. “Thank you for trusting me with this precious memory, Y/N. It’s going to be okay. Now close your eyes...Sweet dreams, Y/N.” his peaceful, velvety voice was the last thing I heard before falling into a restful and calm sleep, for the first time in ages.

When morning came and I woke up, the bed was empty on the side that Worick was and I almost feared I imagined the whole thing...Until I noticed a piece of paper on the pillow where he slept.

“You’re a beautiful person, don’t let the darkness take over you. I hope to hear from you again, in the future, under better circumstances. ~ Worick”

To that, a phone number was written, and the first thing that came into my mind was to get that it tattooed on my body so I won’t lose it. Of course, that will never happen, so I’ll settle for writing it everywhere I can.

For some reason, I wanted to make him proud, and I still had no idea why, so I only called him once a year, on my birthday, and on that day, we would chat on the phone all night, in memory of that night. Finally leaving Ergastulum to go to University and get a better life for myself was something revolutionary for me, but after over 6 years, I managed to do just that. However, there was something that never left my brain, and that was the platinum haired man that completely changed the way I viewed life and how to approach it.

And I returned to Ergastulum after almost a decade.

I was dressed in a cute dress, and this time, unlike last time, a confident smile was on my face. Even though it’s fake, I adopted the “Fake it till you make it” motto, and nobody has to know about my problems.

I vibe.

Asking around for Worick, I find out he works as the Benriya with another man called Nicolas, who’s a tag, and even better, I got his address, so I knew just where to go.

As I entered the shabby apartment that was, for some reason, unlocked, I see a meek looking woman sitting on the couch, looking down.

“Did Worick get a girlfriend?” I leaned on the wall, a playful smirk on my face. “Wh-What?! G-Girlfriend?! W-Wait, who are you?!” she shot up to her feet, looking at me with big, blue doe eyes, frightened, might I say. “You’re adorable. What’s your name? And can I ask where Worick is? I’ve been told this is where he lives.” I played with a strand of my hair, trying not to intimidate the girl...Too much. “U-Uhm...He...He’s in his room...Who are you, miss?” she asked, trying to get some courage. “A friend, I’d like to think. From about ten years ago. Now, if you’ll excuse me...” I was ready to go look for him, only for a door to open, and the man in cause to appear, wearing only black boxers, and stretching...He obviously just woke up. “Ally? What’s all the noise?” he yawned loudly, rubbing his eyes. “Do you have a cute nickname for me too, Worick?” I smirked at him, as he widened his single eye, his jaw dropping in shock. “Y/N...?” he muttered my name, making me grin widely. “Glad you remember me. It has been quite a while since we’ve seen each other...And you age like fine wine, I’m telling you...You’re a sight for sore eyes.” he chuckled softly, only for him to come and pick me up, spinning a bit, before putting me down, cupping my face and kissing my forehead, leaving me a surprised and flustered mess. “And look at you! Can you get prettier than this? I told ya, you have a beautiful smile!” he grinned childishly, pinching my cheeks, making me yelp in pain and slap his hands away. “Jerk! That hurts! Ahem...Anyway, dear Gigolo, how are you? I heard some stuff about you working with someone named Nicolas...But I doubt her name is Nicolas.” I chuckled, pushing him softly away. “Oh, yes! Y/N, this is Alex, our new friend. You can say she’s kinda...Our secretary? I guess? Anyway, come over, we have a lot to catch up on!” he guided me to his bedroom that was, unsurprisingly, messy. “Wonderful and clean, just as expected. Have you ever thought of opening the window?” I teased him, plopping on his bed that was unexpectedly soft. “You, lazy little vixen...Here. I bought it years ago, after finishing the book you gave me, and I wanted to find out more. Now, I’m giving it to you. Are we even?” he smirked, handing me a copy of Fellowship of the Ring book. “We’d be even if I’d spend the night over as well. And if you gave me drinks and pizza. Basically a date. That will do.” I told him, looking dearly at the book I got gifted, although I already read it before. “My God, since when are you so bold?” he asked, getting on the bed, resting his chin on my knees, looking at me like a happy puppy. “Did you miss me, Worick? I hope you did, otherwise that little piece of paper you left would be incredibly disappointing and misleading.” I pointed out, booping his nose. “I’ve been thinking about you since then. By the looks of it, so did you. Are you sure you want a date with someone like me? You are beautiful, you are brilliant, your attitude in endearing as hell...And I’m still a Gigolo and my life is here, in Ergastulum. Don’t regret it later on.” he asked with a more serious tone, only for me to scoff and pull on his hair playfully. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise. Besides...Unlike you, I don’t need to be paid to spend quality time with you, doing nothing but chilling and chatting.” I teased him, making him laugh, as he plopped next to me, poking my cheek. “Great, problem solved! You’ve got yourself a parasite latching on you. Good luck getting rid of him now.” he grinned cheekily, only for me to cup his face and pull him into a kiss. “Why would I wanna get rid of a parasite this cute? Now shut up and hold me, it’s been ten years and I’m touch starved.” I grinned, nuzzling in the crook of his neck. “Damn, how I missed you.” he held me tightly to his chest, occasionally peppering my face with kisses.

It was definitely worth coming back to this God Forsaken place, even if it is for only one person. There’s place for everyone in this world, and in others’ hearts, and I found my place, in Worick’s warm arms, where I feel safest and most loved.

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wheresmynaya · 4 years ago

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Lost in the Lights Ch.2 | Brittana

Okay so I’m breaking routine here by posting another chapter so soon but I’m just blown away by the response so far and I got excited. LIKE WOAH, I really thought I wasn’t going to reach many people with this bc like...sports. Guess we all just really love Brittana, huh?

Also, 9-0 baby! 😘

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x)

No one is more surprised by the discovery of the Titans’ new quarterback than Santana. Actually, surprised doesn’t even begin to cover it. Santana’s flat out dumbfounded by the news.

Is it the fact that they’ve never had a female Titan, let alone a female QB? Is it the fact that she’s actually really good? Is it the fact that it’s Brittany?

Santana’s at a loss.

The blonde just didn’t strike her as the type to play such a rough sport. She’s like this walking ray of sunshine that irks Santana to no end and she’s only had to deal with her for like a week! No one would’ve ever guessed that Brittany was the one to lead the Titans to their first win but maybe that’s because there’s apparently this side of her that Santana just hadn’t seen yet?

Judging by the way Brittany dominated on the field, Santana had her all wrong.

Santana spends her entire weekend trying to stay on top of her tan before the Autumn chill sets in, but in between sips of cold sweet tea and scrolling through her social media feeds there’s Brittany. Again, she doesn’t know why the quarterback keeps disrupting her thoughts, but it seems like she can’t outrun the girl.

At the moment, Brittany’s everywhere Santana looks! Mainly on social media; one minute Santana’s liking a picture Quinn posted of them before the game on Friday and the next she’s being bombarded by shots of Brittany posing with her teammates. Mike and Sam basically make the same exact post with the whole New Year New QB, but what surprises her is that even Puck is on her feed doing the same thing!

To think that the guys would even allow having a female quarterback is beyond her, because the last time she checked they were all a bunch of sexist pigs. Then again, maybe Coach Beiste has finally taught them all a thing or two about respecting women enough to be okay with playing alongside them?

Santana has no idea.

It’s just crazy how this girl seems to have popped up out of nowhere and now Santana can’t get away even when she’s not at school. The weekends are sacred to her, it’s her time to relax and reset before having to deal with all the McKinley High imbeciles but seeing so much of Brittany has her thoughts running nonstop.

What’s worse is that Santana can’t describe why she’s so annoyed by it all!

It isn’t until Monday rolls around that things finally start to come to a head.

The Titans’ recent win still seems to be the only thing anyone at McKinley wants to talk about, but Santana manages to evade all those conversations. She doesn’t know anything about the game other than the Titans have sucked for most of her high school career but she’s still obligated to cheer for them.

It’s a small price to pay when you’re a real winner. The Cheerios have way more titles and that’s really the only thing Santana cares about.

It’s all apart of her master plan to get the hell out of Lima once she graduates. With several National Championship wins under her belt, along with being Co-Captain since Sophomore year, Santana’s hoping it’ll help to expand her university options.

Although, she knows her future is practically mapped out for her – deep down she still has hope for a miracle. Until then, she just wants to make sure she’s well-prepared for anything which means retaining her position on the squad and making good grades.

Santana goes through the motions of the school day as usual, and as usual she fights the inescapable feeling of giddiness as she makes her way towards her final class of the day. She doesn’t actually mind the class – Miss Holliday is secretly one of her favorite teachers at McKinley – but she’s not the blonde that’s making her stomach fill with fluttery things.

She’s barely taken two steps into the room when she spots Brittany already sitting at their shared desk. She had been resting her chin in her palm looking bored as ever until Santana walked in. That’s when Brittany perked up and turned on her signature mega-watt smile.

It was getting harder and harder for Santana to scowl at the sight of it.

“Hi!” Brittany greeted happily as Santana took a seat next to her, “How was your weekend?”

It was always the same with Brittany, no matter what kind of look Santana threw her way. Brittany never seemed to be fazed by her grumpiness. She just took it in stride and continued to try and make conversation even if Santana never gave her much to work with.

Maybe that’s why Santana’s drawn to the blonde? She doesn’t scare easily unlike most at the school who wouldn’t dare be so persistent.

“Fine,” Santana answered with a sigh of indifference while she got settled and took out her binder and pen.

“Awesome,” Brittany nodded and picked up her own pen to start doodling, “I had good weekend too. I went to the park, did some chores around the house, hung out with some guys from the team and – “

The team caused a crack in Santana’s façade.

She looked to Brittany, trying to figure out how the girl sitting next to her was the same fierce player she saw Friday night. With the confusion and curiosity that’s been building ever since, the words just came tumbling out of her before she could catch them.

“You’re our new QB,” Santana stated but it sounded more like an accusation than an observation.

Brittany’s brows rose and a coy smile began to spread across her lips, “So you can say more than two words?”

Santana rolled her eyes at the sarcasm but even more so at how that smile made her stomach flip. She really needed to get her shit together.

“But yeah,” Brittany added coolly, “Seems like I am.”

Santana looked down at her binder, “You didn’t say.”

“You didn’t ask,” Brittany replied just as quickly.

Before Santana could get wrapped up in that giddy feeling again, she hardened herself. She was starting to see how Brittany could keep up with the guys on the team, the girl was quick and she had confidence.

Santana liked that…or whatever.

“Sup dudes!” Miss Holliday greeted the class as she strolled in just after the bell, “Is this Monday dragging or what?”

Some kids grunted in agreement. Brittany chuckled away and Miss Holliday smirked up at her.

“Awesome game, Chica!” Miss Holliday complimented as she walked down their row closest to Brittany. She held out her fist for Brittany to bump, “You kicked butt out there.”

“Thanks,” Brittany replied sweetly as their fists connected, “It was a team effort.”

“Spoken like a true leader. About time we got a little girl power in this school,” Miss Holliday nodded approvingly before moving down the row.

Santana watched Brittany giggle then get swept up in listening to Miss Holliday’s instructions for the warm-up activity. Again, Santana found herself in awe of how Brittany was the same girl who could break tackles and fire a football downfield. Brittany was friendly and soft and diplomatic, nothing like any of the guys on the team.

“You’re staring,” Brittany pointed out although her gaze remained on Miss Holliday now standing at the front of the class setting up the projector.

Santana doesn’t know why, but Brittany’s comment makes her cheeks burn.

She was glad when one of the kids closest to the door was asked to turn off the lights. In the darkness, she found some comfort and a little confidence. She was able to get a grip and act like a normal person.

“We’ve never had a female QB before,” Santana whispered. She had her pen in hand, trying to follow along with everyone else by doing the activity but her focus was elsewhere.

“So I’ve heard,” Brittany replied just as softly.

Santana didn’t know what to say next; this was the most they’ve spoken to each other thus far and she really didn’t know where the conversation was going.

What she didn’t anticipate though was fucking it all up with one sentence.

“Girls,” Santana breathed out and for some reason the word made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She didn’t realize she hadn’t said it in awhile, maybe not since seeing… ��

Santana swallows hard at the memory trying to worm its way in. She pushes it to the back of her mind; now isn’t the time for it.

“Girls,” She repeats herself with a steadier voice, “They aren’t supposed to play football.”

When Brittany looks at her, the friendly smile is gone and her pretty blue eyes are darker and fill with disbelief.

Santana knows she said the wrong thing the second the words leave her lips. It’s not exactly what she meant, but it’s too late to take it back now. Her words have already done the damage.

“Huh,” Brittany scoffs and averts her eyes back to her work, “Didn’t expect to hear that coming from you.”

Santana frowns – mostly out of guilt – but her instincts have her on the defense, “What’s that suppose to mean?”

She watches Brittany’s jaw tighten before she’s turning to look at Santana again. Her brows knit together, “It means I didn’t think you were the small-minded type.”

Santana feels winded.

She’s been called many things in her life and has heard some creative insults aimed at her, but never has she ever been called small-minded. She’s surprised by how much that one actually hurts. After everything she went through last year, after all the backlash, after having to deal with real small-minded people she feels a little offended. She can’t be lumped in with them. It’s not possible, because she’s…

The word gets trapped her throat and Santana has to swallow hard again to steady herself.

She isn’t like everyone else.

On second thought, maybe she is if she’s still saying something like that?

“I’ve always been told that those who can play the game well should,” Brittany tells her firmly, “I think I’m someone that can and judging by your team’s standings for the past three years, you could use someone like me on that field.”

Santana gulps. She can’t remember the last time someone at this school spoke to her the way Brittany is. It’s not a tone she’s familiar with, but she knows she deserves it.

“I don’t know you very well, but I thought – I don’t know – I thought you’d at least be a little more accepting than the hicks I’ve come across in this town,” Brittany continues, “I guess I was wrong.”

Santana’s lips part to defend herself, but nothing comes out.

Brittany doesn’t notice, “It shouldn’t matter if I’m a girl or a boy or a damn alien from outer space. If you can play – if you want to play – then you should, no matter what the sport is. Anyone that thinks otherwise is just…well, they’re stupid.”

The last word has Brittany’s voice cracking and the sound finally has Santana sputtering for an explanations, “I – I didn’t mean to – “

“You should probably just pay attention to the board, Santana.”

Santana bites her lip at Brittany’s clipped tone – that might’ve been the first time she’s ever heard Brittany say her name. She does as she’s told though. It’s best if she doesn’t dig herself a deeper hole.

Santana spends the rest of the day mulling over Brittany's words. Even through Cheerios practice after school, Santana can’t seem to get her head on right.

Maybe she really has become a product of her environment? Maybe all the small-minded people she's surrounded by have somehow managed to rub off on her after all of these years?

That can’t be the case, can it?

She hates that she has to ask herself that. Usually, Santana’s not one to have any regrets or remorse once she spits out her vicious words but this time she finds herself backpedaling when it comes to Brittany. She wasn’t trying to be a bitch, it just sort of happened and for once in her life she feels kind of horrible about it.

“You okay?” Quinn asks hesitantly after she dismissed the squad for a water break. Santana was meant to lead warm-ups today but Quinn seemed more eager to take over and Santana didn’t mind considering she’s so distracted.

“Yeah,” Santana shrugs, “I’m fine.”

“You’re quiet today,” Quinn notes, “You didn’t even laugh when Bec accidentally called Coach Sylvester sir.”

Santana tries to mask her worries and shrugs again, “She’s not that far off, have you seen Coach lately? Very mannish.”

Quinn smirks, pleased to seemingly have her best friend back, “So true.”

Just then Coach Sylvester blows her whistle and barks orders at the squad. Santana’s reluctant to move, but she pushes herself up anyway.

“God,” She groans as they walk over to the others, “I’m over this year and it hasn’t even started.”

“Same,” Quinn chuckles, “Let’s go make fun of the JV squad later? I hear they need a ton of work and their practices runs longer than ours because they suck so much.”

If it were any other day, that suggestion would have Santana eager to get a front row seat but even that doesn’t help. Still, she has to retain some sort of normalcy even if thoughts of Brittany are trying their hardest to disrupt that.

“I can’t wait to see that train wreck,” Santana quips and together, she and her best friend fall in line with the rest of the squad.

The remainder of the week is more of the same: class, Cheerios practice, homework then repeat. The only thing that’s out of the ordinary for Santana is the icy, cold shoulder Brittany’s giving her now.

Or maybe Santana’s the one avoiding her?

It’s all minor details. What’s important is that they aren’t speaking to each other anymore and Santana’s starting to miss Brittany’s usual cheerful greetings.

She knows what she needs to do to fix this. It doesn’t make it any easier for her to actually do it though. To admit that she was wrong, to apologize for her words, to accept responsibility for her actions? Santana’s not use to most of that!

It’s a weird kind of tension though between her and Brittany, so Santana’s not sure how much more she can take. Instead, she steals sideways glances in the dark and hopes Brittany takes pity on her and makes the first move.

Brittany doesn’t and soon one week’s worth of silence ends up turning into two.

Santana had every intention of making amends by last Friday’s game, but things just kept coming up. There’s class and Cheerios practice, but now she actually has to study for upcoming quizzes and assignments. She can’t fall behind again so once practice ends, Santana usually gets changed right away and heads straight for her car without even glancing in the Titans’ direction.

Is she using schoolwork as a lame excuse to avoid dealing with her shit? Of course, she’s a teenager. Procrastination comes naturally to her!

Later that night, Santana sits with both of her parents at the table for dinner. It’s a rare occasion to have Maribel and Hector home at the same time, but that quickly loses its novelty when Hector starts to grill Santana on her studies.

“Papi, it’s only the third week,” Santana gently reasons.

“And?” Hector gives her a stern look, “You need to stay on top of things, Santana.”

It’s a simple sentence, but Santana feels like there’s way more beneath the surface. Sometimes it’s hard being the daughter of a successful doctor whose father was also a doctor and his father before him. There is a long line of them in the Lopez legacy and that looms over Santana like a dark cloud, especially now that she’s in her Senior year.

It’s gone without saying whose footsteps Santana will follow, but it’s still a lot of pressure for her. It’s only a matter of time before her dad begins to lecture her again about college and the importance of good grades and extracurriculars while her mom tries to elevate some of that stress.

She’s never met two people who show their love for someone so differently.

“Don’t put too much pressure on her,” Maribel says and squeezes Santana’s hand from across the table lovingly, “You’re doing fine, mija.”

Hector frowns at his wife, “Fine isn’t enough. You think any of these Ivy League schools care about fine? Of course not. They’re going through thousands of applicants a year and fine doesn’t stand out. Fine doesn’t get into Harvard.”

Maribel narrows her eyes at his rambling.

“Don’t give me that look,” Hector huffs but his voice softens as he looks to Santana, “You know what I’m talking about.”

Santana can already guess what he’s about to say. She’s heard it so many times before.

“You can’t get complacent, Santana. You have a lot to make up for,” Hector adds just as Santana knew he would, “Especially after the year you’ve had.”

“That’s an understatement,” Santana mumbles as she pushes food around on her plate.

“What was that?” Hector raises a challenging brow.

“It’s nothing,” Santana dismisses and smiles reassuringly at her dad, “I’m on top of everything this year, Papi. I promise, you don’t have to worry. I won’t disappoint you.”

When Hector matches her smile, Santana feels a little relief even if it only lasts for a moment.

It isn’t until they’re nearing the end of the third week of school when things on the Brittany-front begin to shift for Santana. They still aren’t speaking to each other, but the blonde practically pops up everywhere she goes – if not physically, then someone’s bound to be talking about her.

After securing a second win for the Titans, Brittany has quickly climbed the ranks on the popularity ladder. The buzz around her grows, but what’s odd is that despite her obvious talents and annoyingly charming smile the students of McKinley have mixed feelings about her.

More importantly, about having a female quarterback.

On her walks to class, Santana has overheard the murmurs of doubt in Brittany’s abilities. Some are frustrated at how a new kid was able to dethrone Finn Hudson who has been leading the team all of her high school career. Some think Coach Beiste is getting soft. Some think it’s all a hoax, but Santana doesn’t really understand that one.

Regardless of how they feel about her though, Brittany’s still able to part crowds any time she walks down the hall. It doesn’t look like she pays them any mind, but Santana’s been wrong about her before.

But with popularity comes the irritating gossip mongers and Santana happens to overhear Brittany’s first encounter with McKinley’s most annoying: Jacob Ben Israel.

\\\\\

Between her morning runs, class, football practice, weight training, homework and helping out with Pete, Brittany’s having a hard time finding a moment to relax. She should be use to the hectic schedule by now, but making the change from her old school’s system to Lima’s is throwing her off a little. The school days start earlier, football practices run later and the work is a little harder than she use to.

Then there’s everything going on with Santana and that might be the most frustrating.

For nearly two weeks, they’ve kept this thing between them going. Did Brittany overreact by saying what she said? She doesn’t think so. Maybe Santana didn’t think what she said to her was a big deal, but to Brittany it was. The things people say to her in Lima aren’t anything knew, but that doesn’t mean she’s immune to their sting.

Most times, she’s able to ignore them but it just hits differently when she hears the utter disbelief coming from a fellow female. It’s like, whatever happened to empowering and uplifting each other? Did Santana not grow up listening to the Spice Girls? Has she never watched She’s the Man? Bend it like Beckham? A League of their own?

It’s so irritating because she can’t even ask Santana, the girl avoids her like the plague! The only time they’re ever close enough is in English class and that’s only because they have to share a table.

Brittany’s tired and achy and she’s so wrapped up in her thoughts as shuffles through her locker for her textbook for next class that she doesn’t notice she is no longer alone.

“Brittany Pierce!” Brittany hears someone say and the sound makes her flinch, “You’ve become quite the celebrity.”

She leans back slowly and peeks around her locker door to find a rather dorky looking guy with a huge cloud of hair. She notices the mic in his hand next and is instantly confused.

Is she on tv?

“Who are you?” She asks and glances around unsurely for a camera.

“Jacob Ben Israel,” He says and holds out his hand for her to shake, “Some call me JBI for short. I’m McKinley’s #1 source for news and the hottest gossip.”

Brittany shakes his hand; it’s grossly warm and sweaty as hell but she’s not surprised judging by the look of him. He certainty isn’t dressed like a journalist or one of those news reporters she has seen on tv.

She can hear her dad’s voice in her head chastising her for judging a book by its cover so she gives JBI a polite smile, “Oh okay. Nice to meet you.”

She goes to turn back to her locker, but JBI is quick to start the questions.

“So you’re the first female QB here at McKinley High. You’re new to the school and you’re the first to ever bench Finn Hudson and you’ve already led the Titans to their second victory this year. Hoping for a third this Friday?” JBI pauses and holds out the mic for Brittany.

She clears her throat, she’s not sure where the camera is so she just looks at him, “Of course. There are a lot of really great players on the team and I’m confident we can win a lot more games this season.”

“Awesome,” JBI replies enthusiastically, “A winning streak isn’t something a lot of the students here have experienced. You’re off to a great start this year. You’re bound to be nominated for Homecoming Court!”

Brittany almost laughs at that.

She’s been nominated at her old school before – even won a couple times – but that’s because she was voted for by her peers, peers who have known her for years. She doesn’t expect any nomination this year, the only reason anyone knows her is because she plays football. If she were to be nominated, it wouldn’t be because she’s well-liked or something like that. It would be because she sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Sounds cool,” Brittany replies despite disagreeing with him.

“So tell us,” JBI’s voice takes a dip. It’s sneaky, almost mischievous, “Would you rather be crowned the King or the Queen?”

Brittany’s stomach flips. She doesn’t like this interview thing anymore.

“What?” She asks because the question confuses her but she finds him wearing this sly grin like he’s just found her weak spot.

He hasn’t, but Brittany’s guard instantly goes up.

“Don’t be shy,” He coaxes with the wag of his brow, “You know what I’m talking about. You’re a female QB, no way you’re strai – “

“Hey!” Suddenly Santana’s there, of all people, and there’s fury in her eyes as she shoves JBI’s mic to his chest, “Fuck off.”

Brittany blinks like she’s caught in a daydream. Her eyes shift from Santana to JBI whose grin widens upon seeing the Co-Captain.

“Now this is a pairing I’m sure everyone would love to see,” He says as he talks into the mic again like nothing’s happened, like Santana isn’t about to beat him over the head with it. He looks to the camera – the kid’s been lingering over Brittany’s right shoulder thus far – and says, “It’s the infamous Santana Lopez, gracing us with her presence.”

Santana rolls her eyes, “I’m not gracing you with shit. Your little show sucks.”

“That’s not what my viewer count says. I’m sure you remember,” JBI quips as he turns back to the pair, “So Brittany, you didn’t answer the question.”

Brittany feels like a deer caught in the headlights; she can’t even remember what the question was, but thankfully Santana interrupts again.

“I said beat it, loser, before I shove that camera so far up your dumb ass you’ll be spitting out polaroids,” Santana snaps.

To Brittany’s surprise though, JBI doesn’t move right away.

“That doesn’t make sense, we’re not even using that kind of cam – “

Santana grits her jaw and takes a threatening step forward. Her voice dips low and gravely, “Try me, Jewfro. Please. I’ve been itching to kick you square in the nuts.”

That threat has JBI reaching to protect his crotch before he turns and runs down the hall with his camera-friend following him.

Brittany watches Santana smirk like she’s so proud of herself for being able to instill the fear of God in someone before she’s averting her gaze. When her stormy brown eyes land on Brittany, the blonde feels a cold chill.

The smirk’s gone and in it’s place is a familiar scowl. Brick by brick, her wall goes up.

“I know you’re new here, Pierce, so a little word of advice,” Santana warns as she turns to the lockers, “Don’t talk to him. He’s a wannabe journalist that reports nothing but bullshit. He’ll twist your words if you let him, trust me. I’ve seen it happen many times and I don’t want you to get caught up in his shit.”

Brittany’s at a loss for words.

Santana hasn’t spoken to her all this time and now all of sudden this? Why would it matter to Santana what she did or said or who she spoke to? Why would she care, she doesn’t even know Brittany?

There’s so many questions beginning to swarm her, but none make it out of her head.

“Thanks,” Is the only word Brittany ends up saying around a shy grin.

There’s a hint of smile on Santana’s lips when their eyes catch for a quick second, but it disappears just as fast.

“It’s whatever,” She says and Brittany hears a locker door slam, “I’ll see you in class.”

It isn’t until Santana’s halfway down the hall that Brittany finally realizes that their lockers are right next to each other’s. She can do nothing but laugh at the small coincidence.

The second time Santana speaks to her, it’s because Brittany accidentally scared the crap out of her.

It’s Thursday now – the last day of practice before the Week 3 game – so Brittany wants to get a jump on warm-ups. She knows there’s a thirty minute buffer between Cheerios and Titans practice, but she has to account for the extra time it takes to pick up her gear from Coach Beiste’s office first since everything’s stored in the boys’ locker room.

Usually, she gets the whole room to herself and plays a little music from her phone to get amped up. This time though, there’s one Cheerio that’s already there and this particular Cheerio surprisingly has a beautiful singing voice.

Brittany feels like she’s being lured in by one of those sirens she has read about in Greek mythology. She thinks she should probably make her presence known because creeping around a locker room is kind of weird, but she’s so in awe of the girl’s voice.

More importantly, the owner of that voice.

“Jesus!” Santana gasps when she rounds the corner to find Brittany lingering by the hampers. Her hand flies to chest to steady her beating heart, “What the hell are you doing, Pierce? Trying to give a girl a heart attack?”

Brittany thanks the heavens when she finds that Santana’s fully clothed already.

“I’m sorry!” Brittany blushes, “I didn’t think anyone would be here.”

Santana just shakes her head before eyeing Brittany again. There’s a flash of concern when Santana says, “You look like shit, worse than yesterday when I saw you with JBI.”

Brittany’s not sure how to take that. She hasn’t been sleeping well, that’s for sure, but it worries her that her tiredness is beginning to show. At least, that’s what she hopes Santana is talking about.

“I’ve been super busy lately. Guess I’m just ready for the weekend,” She says instead as she fumbles with the shoulder pads in her hands, “Sorry for interrupting you.”

“Interrupting me?”

“Yeah, you were singing. It sounded really pretty.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Santana brushes off before crossing her arms over her chest, “Why are you in here so early? Doesn’t your practice start at 4?”

“Why are you in here so late?” Brittany challenges, “Didn’t your practice start at 3:30?”

Santana cocks her head to the side, “I had to talk to Ms. Pillsbury about something.”

“Who?”

“She’s the guidance counselor. You’ll probably meet her soon, she’s on all the Seniors about their college application due dates. Figures, she’d want to start off with me.”

Brittany wants to know more. Afterall, she’s naturally curious when it comes to getting to know new people so the questions build but she doesn’t voice any of them. Not that Santana would give her any answers anyway.

Santana’s looking at all the gear Brittany’s toting along with her duffle bag and her brows furrow, “Did you carry all of that here?”

Brittany looks down at her gear and nods.

“Why?” Santana scrunches her nose, “Don’t you have a locker or something?”

Brittany shakes her head, “I was never given one. Coach Beiste said Coach Sylvester is meant to assign one to me, but I guess she’s been busy.”

“Doubt it. She hates Coach Beiste so in turn, she hates you.”

Brittany frowns; what’d she do?

“She’s probably just giving you a hard time because you’re a Titan instead of a Cheerio,” Santana answers then walks off. She goes to grab the clipboard that hangs above the hampers, dangling from it is a key, “I can assign you one, it’s part of my Co-Captain privileges. This side is reserved for the squad, obviously, but the set by the showers are all free. You can leave your football stuff there too, doubt anyone in here is going to want to steal it.”

Brittany’s taken aback by Santana’s random act of kindness for a second time that week. She let’s her smile shine, “Thanks. It really helps having everyting in one place. I don’t have to waste so much time walking back and forth.”

Santana nods and there’s that hint of a smile again before she’s leading the way over to the section of lockers that’s now become Brittany’s.

“Top or bottom?” Santana asks as she scans the list attached to the clipboard. Brittany smirks and notices the moment Santana realizes what she has said, “As in locker preference.”

“Duh,” Brittany jokes with a straight face, “What else would you mean?”

Santana’s face is flushed now and Brittany tries her hardest not to laugh. She’s kind of cute when she’s flustered like that.

“I’ll put you down for top,” Santana answers stiffly. Now her eyes are solely glued to the clipboard in her hands, “I guess I can unlock the bottom one too though so you can have the entire segment. You can – uh – decide which you want to use or whatever.”

“That works for me,” Brittany replies casually before she starts to undress.

Santana practically runs into a wall when she sees Brittany pull her top up over her head and let it drop onto her open duffle bag.

“I’ll just leave you to it then,” Santana calls over her shoulder as she scurries off.

Brittany watches the whole thing curiously. Has Santana never changed in front of other girls before or something? That’s the only explanation she comes to for how awkward she’s being.

Brittany doesn’t dwell on it, just continues getting dressed.

By the time Brittany’s got her practice gear on, Santana appears again. She looks a little shier than before and she’s fiddling with her hands.

Brittany just smiles and reaches down for her helmet, “You going now?”

“Yeah,” Santana answers, “Just trying to enjoy the last bit of A.C.”

“It’s not that hot out,” Brittany chuckles and motions to her pads, “At least you don’t have to wear all this.”

“True,” Santana smirks, “Now that would suck.”

Brittany chuckles again. She likes this version of Santana, she hopes she can see her more often but there’s still a giant pink elephant in the room so Brittany doesn’t get too excited.

“I’ll see you out there I guess,” Brittany says.

Santana nods and turns to leave, but then stops and turns back to face Brittany again.

“Actually, I just wanted to say,” Santana starts.

Brittany wonders if this is it. If she’s finally going to get an apology after what Santana said to her the other week, or at least the start of a conversation about her opinion? Anything would suffice by this point.

Brittany waits.

“I just wanted to say,” Santana repeats and her voice is so shaky. It’s completely unlike the confidence she possessed when she told off JBI, “Have a good practice.”

It’s not what Brittany was anticipating her to say – and judging by the uncertainty on Santana’s face, it wasn’t what she was anticipating to say either – but she’ll take it.

“Thanks,” Brittany grins as she walks by her to leave, “You too.”

By Friday night, Brittany’s feeling better than she has all week. Although they’ve yet to acknowledge Santana’s misjudgments, baby steps in the right direction have been taken.

Kind of.

First Santana defended her against JBI then on Thursday she assigned Brittany a locker and today? Today Santana brought her a drink from the Cheerios special lounge while Brittany was getting ready for the game.

“What is it?” Brittany asked hesitantly as she eyed the color of it. She’s sitting on the benches in the locker room completely dressed now in her uniform. All that’s left are the final touches like a quick dance party to get her pumped and applying a little Game Day eye make up.

“It’s a bunch of healthy stuff like fruits and veggies. All fresh so that explains the color, no preservatives. There’s some vitamin supplements in there too,” Santana explains like it’s all a bother.

Brittany’s beginning to see through that though.

“I don’t take drugs,” Brittany replies and tries to give the bottle back.

Santana rolls her eyes and there’s that hint of a smile again, “Does Vitamin D count as a drug? If so, then Puckerman is definitely on something stronger.”

Brittany frowns at the accusation, “Wait, seriously? The team can get in a lot of troub – “

“Easy, Pierce, I’m sure he’s just all-talk,” Santana amends, “I wouldn’t open an investigation on him or anything.” Then there’s a pause and for a second she looks a little shy as she motions to the bottle in Brittany’s hands. Her voice comes out softer, “Drink that. It’ll help with the tiredness and it’s good for your immune system too incase you’re about to come down with something.”

“You think I’m getting sick?” Brittany chuckles and turns back to apply thick black stripes to the apples of her cheeks.

Santana lifts a shoulder casually before standing, “You almost fell asleep in class today.”

Brittany blushes. Did she really? She’s so tired, she can’t even remember.

“What does that have to do with getting sick?” Brittany wonders.

“It’s almost that time of the year and bugs move quick,” Santana explains, “A lot quicker if you’re not taking care of yourself…for example, not getting enough sleep.”

That takes Brittany by surprise. Santana caring about her? Why? But despite the surprise, Brittany feels warm and fuzzy all over.

“Alright Doc, I’ll drink it,” Brittany jokes as she finishes up drawing on the left stripe. She turns to Santana as she twists off the lid and makes a show of taking a long drink.

Santana actually laughs this time before she shakes her head.

“I feel better already,” Brittany beams as she stands. They’re close now and it’s then that Brittany really notices the height difference, “Thanks for this. What do I owe you? Pressed juices like these probably cost an arm and a leg here.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Santana dismisses and takes a step back to put some distance between them, “Just bring home another win.”

“You got it,” Brittany winks and goes to take another swig while she watches Santana leave the locker room.

Unfortunately, it’s a rocky start this time for the Titans. It’s not that Brittany isn’t playing at her best because she always brings 110% to the field no matter how she’s feeling. It’s actually her teammates who aren’t as focused as she is for some reason. There’s still a lot of work to be done when it comes to being a cohesive unit, but today they’ve really taken a step back.

They’re down by 17 points when the half is called.

“Alright, what’s going on out there?” Coach Beiste questions. She’s fuming as she eyes everyone for an answer, “What I’m seeing is that Pierce is the only one here that’s come to play.”

Karofsky scoffs and folds up his arms, “I’m so over hearing about her!”

“Me too!” Azimio chimes in, “First we let in Hummel and now her? What’s next? She gonna join the Puck Heads in the off season and change the game for them too? The rest of us are chopped liver now. It’s not good for my reputation!”

“Your reputation? You were a loser just like the rest of us before Brittany came,” Mike replies but the two don’t take kindly to being called a loser and start shoving at him.

“Cut it out!” Sam tries to breaking it up.

Brittany looks over at them and grimaces. Dave and Azimio both have been a pain in her ass since she’s joined the team, but she thought they were past this by now? They’ve got a winning record, they’re actually improving on being a better team, so what’s the issue all of a sudden?

Coach Beiste shakes her head at them, “Give me a break! One person doesn’t win games. You don’t have to like Pierce but you’re going to give her your respect if you want to play on my field. It’s as simple as that. You work together, you listen and respect each other. That’s what it means to be a team, is it not?”

Brittany eyes her teammates. Aside from the select handful that actually like her, the guys look at her like she’s the enemy. It makes Brittany feel really unsettled.

“Is it not?” Coach Beiste presses.

There are mumbles amongst the squad but it’s not enough for Coach Beiste.

“Louder!”

“Yes, Coach!” They say in unison.

“Okay then, let’s starting acting like a team out there and win this game!” She says with the clap of her hands.

They’re in the fourth quarter now and the Titans have managed to make it a close game despite their rough start. Coach Beiste’s pep talk must’ve worked because the team is playing harder than the first half, but Brittany still senses the undertones of resentment.

She packs it away for now and just focuses on making plays. Afterall, she’s meant to be winning this one for Santana. Well not for Santana; it’s more like paying her back for the drink earlier.

Brittany nods resolutely and looks to the sidelines to see the Co-Captain shaking her pompoms. She does a high kick and yells out a cheer in time with the others, but the smile she’s wearing is what catches Brittany’s eye.

She shakes her head and focuses on the snap.

“Down!” Brittany calls out. She catches the other team’s Line Backer’s movement from the corner of her eye. The defense looks hungry, but so are they. She smirks and braces herself, “Hut!”

The ball is snapped and Brittany quickly hands it off to Puckerman. So far their run game has been pretty weak tonight, but Puckerman surprises everyone and kicks into gear. He plows through the defense at full speed, breaking tackle after tackle, until he crosses over for a first down and steps out of bounds.

He spikes down the ball and makes a sawing motion with his arm while the crowd goes wild. Matt runs up to congratulate him with a hard pat on the back.

“Yes!” Brittany jumps up and down as she cheers.

Over on the sidelines, the Cheerios are just as excited as they chant:

“First and ten, first and ten! First and ten, let’s do it again!”

Brittany sees Santana watching her with a huge grin and it makes her feel warm all over again. She knows it’s silly to think that Santana’s cheers are just for her – same goes for that smile – but she can’t help but dream.

Yeah, she’s decided. She’s really going to win this game just for her.

Brittany quickly runs up to their new line of scrimmage and everyone starts to take their position. She smacks Puckerman on the back when he jogs up next to her to get in formation.

“Nice carry, Puckerman!” She compliments.

“Sawed right through them!” Puckerman shouted excitedly back.

“Let’s keep up that energy,” Brittany praised and called out another play. They were in field goal range now, but like always – Brittany wasn’t here to play it safe especially with the new set of downs.

This time she wanted to try another play-action route since it worked pretty well in the pre-season game. Mike and Sam have proved to her that they have great hands, but they needed to work on their speed and timing. Now was a perfect time to test that. With Puckerman on a roll, the defense was sure to up their coverage on him rather than the receivers which would work perfectly in Brittany’s favor.

“Blue 82!” Brittany repeats and looks to her sides for confirmation that they’ve picked up the slight change.

Mike and Sam give her the barest nod before they’re glaring at their defenders. Brittany kicks up her foot and Mike quickly changes position so that he’s next to Sam now on the right side of the field.

“Blue 82!” Brittany calls out again and readies herself for the snap, “Down…Hut!”

The ball is hiked and she fakes the hand off to Puckerman so smoothly that the defense follows after him just as planned. While they chase him down to the left side of the field, Mike and Same cut up the right. Brittany holds onto the ball longer than she likes, making sure she gives her receivers enough time to breakaway from their defenders.

The other team’s Line Backer is trying his hardest to break through her O-Line though. Thankfully, Matt ends up making a key block for Mike and Brittany’s able to step up in the pocket and fire down a quick pass. It’s a little lower than Brittany wanted, but Mike makes the catch and pushes past a defender for another first down!

Everyone went wild, but the play clock was still going since Mike hadn’t made it out of bounds.

Brittany motioned for everyone to hurry into position – this time she was going for a slant route with Matt being the intended receiver. She kept her eye on the seconds ticking away, but the team was able to make it in time to get set.

“OG 30!” She called out. She was really starting to feel that adrenaline kick in but she kept her cool and held out her hands, “Down…Hut!”

Again, Brittany caught the ball and dropped back as everyone began to move. Despite the grumpiness during half time, the guys that made up her O-Line – mostly Dave and Azimio – did their jobs correctly and held the line. Brittany looked to her right and faked a throw before turning to her left and firing at Matt.

He juggled the ball in the air, but ultimately was able to secure possession of it and ran up the side of the field for an easy touchdown!

“Let’s go!” Brittany pumped her fist in the air. That was their best drive all game and now with the new points on the board, they’re finally up by 6! With just a little over ten minutes left in the final quarter, Brittany’s feeling good about their odds in coming away with another win.

She was right to feel confident; Titans end up winning the game 27 – 21. When the final whistle was blown, everyone was cheering and some of her teammates rushed to congratulate her efforts. She happily returned the sentiments, but she couldn’t help but glance over at the sidelines to see if Santana was watching her again too.

And she was, alongside Quinn and the rest of the Cheerios.

Brittany just grinned as she pulled off her helmet and let down her hair, happy that she was able to make good on her promise to Santana.

Despite how great she felt after Friday’s win, Monday morning was a different story.

Everything hurts and she was so exhausted that she didn’t even go for her usual morning run which is telling because she’s one of those rare people that actually works well with routine exercising. She guesses all those late nights studying combined with her patchy sleep schedule have finally taken its toll on her body.

She thinks back to what Santana said Friday about getting enough rest. God, she hopes she isn’t coming down with anything. Getting sick is just not what she needs right now.

“Hey mom?” Brittany taps on Whitney’s bedroom door. The curtains are already drawn and welcome in the morning sun so she knows her mom’s awake already. Whitney appears in the doorway of the master bath in her work uniform and instantly looks worried.

“You feeling okay, kiddo?” She asks as she crosses the room to press at Brittany’s forehead.

“I don’t think I’m sick, but I feel horrible,” Brittany explains.

“Yeah, you don’t have a fever. Have you been getting enough sleep?” Whitney asks.

Brittany shakes her head. Whitney eyes her with concern.

“It’s not the dreams again, is it?”

Brittany shakes her head again, “No. I haven’t had one since the last time I told you. I think I’m just worn out.”

“You’re a busy girl,” Whitney nods.

“Is it okay if I stay home today?” Brittany asks hesitantly, “It’s the only day of the week that I don’t really need to be at practice. I think I can access most of my schoolwork online so – “

“It’s okay, Britt. Just rest today,” Whitney says, “Missing a day isn’t going to break you and I know you’ll catch up when you’re feeling better.”

Brittany fills with relief and gives her mom a weak smile. She’s so happy that Whitney’s so understanding, but she guesses that’s come from experience with everything that happened at the beginning of the year with her dad’s passing. Many mental health days were taken, but Whitney never made her feel bad for it. If anything, she always encouraged them.

“Thanks mom,” Brittany says before taking herself back to bed. She’s able to fall asleep fast for once and she doesn’t wake again until she has to use the bathroom.

When she wakes up the third time, it’s just after three. She sees a text from her mom saying that Gran has Pete and she’ll pick him up once she gets off of work so that Brittany can continue resting.

She smiles and sends a text back to thank her before getting up. After a quick snack and a big glass of OJ, Brittany heads to the couch for another nap.

This time, sleep doesn’t find her as easily as it did the other times so she turns on the tv and tries to find something to watch. She decides to put on something she considers boring in hopes that maybe it’ll bore her right to sleep.

Miraculously, her plan works and she settles in for another nap.

An hour or so goes by when Brittany begins to stir because Pete’s trying to squeeze onto the couch next to her. His cold feel touch her bare ankles beneath her blanket and she flinches at the feel.

“Honey, what did I say in the car?” Whitney whispers, “Let your sister rest.”

“I am,” Pete pouts, “I just wanted to sit with her.”

“How about you come help me with – “

“It’s okay, mom,” Brittany pushes to sit up. Pete instantly beams at her, “I’ve slept enough I think.”

“Feeling better?” Whitney asks and brushes her hand over Brittany’s wild hair.

She nods and does a little stretch, “Much better.”

“Good to hear,” Whitney says and bends down to press kisses to Brittany and Pete’s head, “I’m going to make dinner then. Just leftovers so it shouldn’t take long.”

When she heads off for the kitchen, Pete snuggles in closer to Brittany.

“Did you get to watch cartoons all day?” He asks curiously.

Brittany shakes her head, “Nope, but I did take many naps.”

“Nice!”

“Totally.”

Brittany and Pete are watching tv together a moment later when Brittany hears a knock at the front door. Pete jumps up at the sound and rushes to see who it is.

“Don’t open that door, Peter!” Whitney calls out from the kitchen, “Let your sister get it.”

Pete pouts and hangs back as Brittany moves to get up. She chuckles and ruffles up his hair as she passes by. When Brittany takes a peek, she’s shocked by what she sees and quickly opens the door.

“Santana?” Brittany greets. She’s both confused and pleasantly surprised.

“Who are you?” Pete asks curiously with his head tilted up at the Co-Captain.

“Hi,” Santana smiles kind of nervously as she glances between the two. She’s dressed in her Cheerios warm-up gear – she must’ve just finished practice – and has her binder tucked under her arm.

“Uh…I’m Santana,” She answers softly, “And you are?”

“I’m Peter!” Brittany’s brother holds out his hand to shake, “Everyone calls me Pete though, so you can too if you want.”

Santana quirks a brow at him but smiles as she shakes his hand anyway, “Nice to meet you, Pete.”

“Pete, can you go help mom?” Brittany instructs. She waits until he’s run off then asks Santana out of disbelief, “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t in class today,” She says.

“Yeah…I didn’t feel well.”

“Didn’t I say you were going to get sick?” Santana smirks.

“I’m not sick,” Brittany sighs, “I was just tired.”

“Right,” Santana keeps the smirk and motions to her binder, “Well, I brought you the work you missed. It’s kind of important for the paper due in a few weeks.”

Brittany just blinks. Maybe she’s still asleep and this is all a dream?

“Here,” Santana offers and goes to flip through her binder for a couple handouts to give to Brittany.

The blonde accepts them although she’s still trying to grasp the fact that Santana’s standing on her doorstep, “Thanks.”

“Sure,” Santana nods and it looks like she’s about to turn away.

“Wait. How’d you know where I lived?” Brittany quickly asks before she can run off.

“Mike told me,” Santana shrugs, “Actually, Mike told Quinn and Quinn told me. Apparently you two are neighbors?”

“Yeah, he likes to tell everyone that,” Brittany chuckles before she gets a sudden burst of confidence and asks, “Did you…want to come in?”

“Uhhh,” Santana looks unsure but then she gives Brittany a small smile, “Okay.”

Brittany opens the door a little wider and leads Santana into the living room. She pushes the blanket she brought down from her room to the side so they can both sit on the couch. Brittany starts to flip through the packet Santana gave her and she’s already dreading the assignment.

“Woah,” Brittany gasps, “This is a lot.”

“Yeah,” Santana nods, “I can help you with it though if you want? Miss Holliday said we can work in groups if we wanted, but we’ll be graded individually.”

Brittany blinks blankly again, “Huh, that’s funny.”

“What?”

Brittany just shakes her head and shrugs, “Just the other week you were insulting me then you stopped talking to me for awhile and now you’re being super helpful. I just can’t get a read on you.”

Brittany wasn’t trying to make Santana feel cornered, she just wanted to open up the conversation. She was over ignoring the obvious, so she went straight for the kill and brought it up head on.

Santana’s shoulders dropped, “Look, I’m…I’m really sorry about that. I was so out of line.”

“Yeah, you really were,” Brittany replies but she isn’t trying to rile Santana up by being argumentative, “You know how many times I’ve heard something similar over the years? Ever since I started playing sports it’s always been: you run like a girl, you throw like a girl, you’re pretty good…for a girl.”

Santana looks apologetically at Brittany and goes to fiddle with her hands in her lap. Brittany notes the familiar motion and decides its something she does when she’s nervous.

Brittany adds, “Like being a girl that plays sports is somehow less than, like it’s a bad thing. I’ve never understood it. I’m just as good as they are.”

Santana shakes her head, “No. I’ve seen you play. You’re so much better.”

“Thanks,” Brittany chuckles weakly, “You know, when I first started I wasn't trying to make some big statement. I didn't want the pressure of being the first female whatever, I just wanted to play. And my family, they've always been super supportive no matter the sport, especially my dad.”

Brittany feels the lump in her throat slowly start to form at his mention and takes a deep breath before speaking again.

“He use to come to every game. But people are so stuck on how I've disrupted their precious norms and it makes things harder than they need to be. No matter where I go, the people will either love me or hate me for this. It's crazy. I'm just a girl who loves playing football, why's that so odd?”

“It’s not,” Santana reasons, “You’re a good different, a kind of different a place like this needs.”

Brittany smiles fondly at Santana’s kind words, “Then why did you say what you did?”

Santana pauses for awhile trying to find the right words but in the end she just shakes her head and sighs, “Probably because I’m a bitch?”

Brittany flinches, she doesn’t think that’s the case.

“You’re just…you’re not what I imagined. I thought football players were rough and you’re not like that at all. You’re soft, delicate. You treat with kindness.”

“So does Kurt,” Brittany offers kindly, “And Mike, Sam too.”

“You know what I mean,” Santana replies.

“Yeah, I do. It’s called a stereotype,” Brittany smirks, “Football players happen to come in all shapes and sizes though. Some are soft and delicate like you say I am and some aren’t, but out on the field we’re all the same. We’re one team.”

Santana nods, “I’m sorry about what I said. You have every right to be on that field, same as the guys. I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise. I guess I’m still trying to adjust too. It’s not really something you see here…”

“I accept your apology,” Brittany grins.

Santana lets out a deep sigh, “This town can be so old school sometimes and it sucks how there are younger generations out here that don’t know any different. They don’t see how wrong it is to have such a shit mentality. I guess I forgot what progression looks like until you came.”

Brittany knows Santana’s being genuine now and it makes the wait for this conversation worth it. She goes to joke, “Well it’s a learning process. Now you know for the next time you come across someone who doesn’t fit the status quo.”

“Yeah,” Santana matches Brittany’s grin, “I really do.”

“Well hello,” Whitney greets as she enters the living room. She glances between Brittany and Santana as Santana rises to her feet. She stands up straight and proper, “You going to introduce me to your friend, Britt?”

Brittany gulps at the label. She doesn’t know if she’d call Santana a friend just yet.

“This is my mom Whitney. Mom, this is Santana,” Brittany says while Santana gives a polite smile, “We have class together. She was just bringing me some work I missed today.”

“That’s so kind of you,” Whitney compliments Santana.

“It was nothing,” Santana replied and glanced to Brittany, “I tried to warn her about the risks of over-doing it. I can’t imagine having a schedule like hers.”

Brittany’s brow rises at the overly polite tone. Who knew Santana was a little suck up when it came to parents. She smirks as she watches it unfold.

“Stubbornness, she gets that from her dad’s side,” Whitney jokes, “Would you like to stay for dinner? We’re just having leftovers but there’s plenty to go around.”

“Lasagna!” Pete cheers as he runs in from the kitchen.

Santana chuckles but shakes her head, “Thank you, but I should probably get home before my mom starts to worry.”

Whitney nods, “Of course. Well, it was lovely meeting you. Come on Petey, let’s make our plates.”

When they both wander off, Brittany’s again standing alone with Santana in the living room.

“So you’re a kiss-ass,” Brittany jokes, “Never would’ve guessed it.”

Santana rolls her eyes despite smiling, “I have a thing with parents. They love me, okay?”

“Sure, sure,” Brittany giggles, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone that you’re secretly kind. Wouldn’t want to ruin your rep.”

“I appreciate it,” Santana quips playfully before gathering her things, “Well, I really should head off before my mom starts blowing up my phone.”

“Cool,” Brittany nods and leads the way over to the front door to walk Santana out, “Well. Thanks again for bringing over the work I missed.”

“No biggie,” Santana waved off as she turned to leave, “Glad you’re feeling better. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Brittany waved and watched Santana make her way over to her little red Mazda with a pleased smile.

Maybe they weren’t exactly friends yet, but compared to the downward spiral they’ve been experiencing…they weren’t enemies either.

And in football terms, that’s called forward progress.

#Lost in the Lights #Brittana #Brittana fanfiction #QB!Britt

16 notes · View notes

cocastyle · 5 years ago

Text

Change - Ch. 1 | F I V E

Pairing - Bill Denbrough x reader

Word Count - 5,195

A/N - so sorry it took a little longer than usual for this update! I’ve been super busy with basketball and school starting back up so life has been a little hectic. I plan on updating my Wonderwall (Steve Harrington) series soon and getting up a few requests/ideas I had as well! I hope you all like this chapter and please leave a comment letting me know what you all thought because I love the feedback and it helps me when writing the upcoming chapters!

if you would like to be added to the tag list for this series let me know!

C H A N G E

Change Series Masterlist

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F I V E - The Phone Call

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It didn't take long for the kids to all go change back into their clothes and mount their bikes, their destination being Ben's house. As they rode, Y/N couldn't stop herself from gripping onto her cousin just a little tighter, her nerves getting the best of her. But from the way Stan seemed to lean back against her and more into her hold, it was obvious he felt the same way and the cousins took the bike ride as a chance to calm down and accept the comfort of the other's touch.

Everyone was unusually quiet as they pulled up to Ben's house, not even Richie uttering a word as they got off their bikes. Why that was? No one was quite sure, but they didn't bother questioning it.

No one noticed Ben sneak off inside for they were too busy setting their bikes down. Y/N couldn't help but smile as she watched Stan make an effort to put his kick stand out while the others carelessly dropped their bikes. Then her eyes were flickering in Bill's direction, having felt his eyes on her. His eyes widened slightly and he was quick to look away, his face growing red as he nodded towards Ben's house, "C-C-Come on."

Y/N didn't seem to notice Bill's behavior and just linked arms with Stan before the group all began to follow after Ben into the house. By the time they had made it up to his room, they found Ben standing near his closet door with a nervous smile on his face.

The young girl gave him a confused look, but was quickly distracted by the news articles that lined the wall. Some kids had posters, but it seemed Ben just had news articles.

Richie and Eddie were bickering behind her and it was only when Y/N stepped inside with Stan by her side as the two cousins went to examine an article that the two fell silent. "Woah, woah, woah, wow!" Richie breathed out as he let his eyes flicker over the articles and pictures.

His eyes met Y/N and she could read his expression in almost an instance. She gave him a small look, but he didn't seem fazed and just turned to Ben who was looking around the group with an excited smile on his face. "Cool, huh?" Ben questioned.

"No, no, nothing cool," Richie said as he shook his head, the smile on Ben's face dropping ever so slightly. "There's nothing cool."

Y/N rolled her eyes at the boy and frowned as she looked around the room. Her eyes locked on Bill who was looking at some slides on Ben's desk that were no doubt for a projector and she walked over to him before leaning over to look at the picture in his hand.

Bill glanced at her for a second before looking back down at the picture, trying to get his heart beat steady. Finally, he let his eyes flicker over to Y/N and the two locked eyes before Y/N gave him a silent look as if to ask 'can you believe this?' Bill shook his head in disbelief and picked up another slide, the two studying it for a moment and figuring out that it was a map of Derry.

"Well this is cool," Richie finally said causing the two to turn and look the boy's way while Bill set the slide down, "wait, no it's not."

"What's that?" Stan asked and Y/N furrowed her eyebrows before walking over to squeeze her way in between him and Eddie, the two moving over automatically to allow some space for her to stand.

"Oh, that? That's the charter for Derry Township," Ben explained.

Richie let out a breathy chuckle before muttering, "Nerd alert." Y/N frowned and reached over to smack Richie's arm, the boy giving her a look of confusion behind a glare as he rubbed his arm.

"Actually, it's really interesting," Ben argued, not really being fazed by Richie's comment. "Derry started as a beaver trapping camp."

"Still is, am I right, boys?" Richie asked, a smirk dawning his face as he held his hand up for a high five. His eyes flickered between Eddie and Stan, the two giving him blank looks while Stan shook his head almost disapprovingly at his friend.

"Ninety-one people signed the charter that made Derry. But later that winter, they all disappeared without a trace," Ben went on.

"The entire camp?" Eddie questioned in disbelief.

"There were rumors of Indians, but no sign of an attack. Everyone thought it was a plague or something. But it's like. . . one day everybody just woke up and left," Ben muttered.

Y/N gulped slightly and felt a chill run down her spine. They just disappeared? Just like that?

Her eyes flickered over the articles before landing on one in particular that made her pale, her breath bitching in her throat. She swore that one of the people in the picture looked like the clown from the synagogue, but with one quick blink of her eyes, the clown was gone and Y/N was left with a feeling like someone was watching her. However, this gaze felt a lot different than the way Bill's gaze made her feel.

Y/N was quick to shake it off and looked to Ben before shakily asking, "They really never found them?"

Ben shook his head, "The only clue was a trail of bloody clothes leading to the well-house."

Y/N didn't know why she felt so unsettled by the news and for a moment, she silently wished she had fought with Eddie to stay back at the quarry instead of coming here. Something just seemed off to her and she didn't like it.

"Jesus, we can go on 'Unsolved Mysteries,'" Richie muttered and Y/N forced herself to let out a small chuckle, hoping that it might lighten her mood.

As if sensing her unease, Stan glanced at his cousin before gently reaching out and taking her hand in his, giving it a small squeeze as if to tell her that she was okay. It reminded her of when the two were young and she was too afraid to go into a haunted house attraction that they had at the local carnival. Stan had held her hand and given it the smallest of squeezes and it was in that moment that she had felt a wave of comfort wash over her just like it did now.

Y/N let her eyes flicker up to Stan and she gave him a small smile as she leaned into her cousin ever so slightly, wanting nothing more than to not feel alone. Ben had turned his attention away by now and Eddie and Richie were back to their usual bickering, so Stan rolled his eyes and looked to the articles before whispering, "What kid has all this stuff? It's a bit odd, don't you think?"

"I don't know. Maybe he's just trying to make friends, Stanley," Richie suggested, although the hint of amusement in his voice practically screamed that he was making fun of Ben.

"Where was the Well House?" Bill asked, making everyone look to the boy who was still standing by Ben's desk.

"I don't know, somewhere in town, I guess," Ben shrugged before titling his head in curiosity. "Why?"

"Nothing," Bill replied, his voice barely above a whisper. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at the boy, wondering why he was so curious and why he happened to look a little disappointed from Ben's words. Bill noticed her stare and was quick to turn around so that she couldn't try and read him anymore. This only made Y/N more curious and she was about to move across the room to question Bill when her cousin suddenly glanced at the watch on his wrist and groaned, "Shit. Y/N and I have to go. My father wants me to practice the readings more and Y/N agreed to help me out."

"Fuck. I forgot about that," Y/N sighed before she straightened up and gave her cousin a small smile. "It's okay. We can leave right now and still have plenty of time. I have a feeling you're going to nail it this time."

Stan gave the girl a small smile before looking around at his friends as he slowly began to drag his cousin out fo the room. "We'll see you guys tomorrow," Stan announced as they reached the doorway.

"Goodbye!" Y/N called out as she sent the group one last smile before her and Stan disappeared out of the room. Bill's eyes lingered in the doorway, his gaze having followed the girl all the way out the room. A fact that hadn't gone unnoticed by the others.

"Looks like Big Bill's still got the hots for Y/N!" Richie exclaimed as he let out a loud laugh. Bill's eyes widened and he was quick to spin around and look at his friend, his face growing red while his mouth opened and shut a few times.

"Sh-Sh-Shut up, Richie!" Bill finally exclaimed making the others chuckle as they realized how right Richie was.

"It's okay, Bill. Y/N's a lovely girl," Beverly teased making Bill redden even more.

"I-" Bill began, but he couldn't even finish his sentence before he huffed and began to storm out of the room. "I'll s-s-see you guys tomorrow."

He hadn't even made it down the stairs before he heard Richie's laughter again followed by, "Oh, so Billy's got it bad."

And all Bill could do was sigh as he walked out the front door and gently closed it behind him, knowing deep down that Richie was right.

- - -

Y/N had a smile gracing her face as she sat by the window, the sun kissing her skin as it filtered through the glass, her cousin's voice soft as he muttered his Torah readings. Every once in a while he would stumble on a word, but Y/N had been a great help as she had been the one to calm him down when he grew too frustrated, slowly saying the word aloud for him so that he would pronounce it correctly.

He had gotten a lot better on the thirty minutes they had been practicing and Y/N couldn't help but feel her heart swelling pride at the fact. Stan was going to do great at his bar mitzvah, she just knew it.

"Y/N!" her Aunt Andrea called out from the kitchen where she was currently busy making the dinner.

Her voice was enough to break the comfortable trance the two cousins had been in and they jumped in surprise before Y/N replied with, "Yes?"

"Your parents are on the phone, dear. They would like to talk to you!" her aunt explained causing Y/N to pale slightly. Stan's eyes were on her almost instantly and she glanced at her cousin who gave her a small questioning look to ask if she would be okay. Y/N only nodded in response before pulling herself up onto her feet and beginning to make her way to the kitchen.

Y/N wouldn't lie and say she wasn't the tiniest bit excited to talk to her parents. After all, she did miss them quite a bit. But she was even more nervous than she could comprehend and she wasn't quite sure why.

Her aunt was waiting by the phone and smiled upon seeing the girl walk in. She handed her the phone before Y/N even had time to blink and was already bustling back towards the stove where she was busy cooking dinner.

Hesitantly, Y/N held the phone up to her ear and let out a shaky breath before whispering, "Hello?"

"Y/N, dear! How are you? How has your summer been so far?" her mother's voice instantly rang into her ear, the sound of it making her breath hitch in her throat as she realized just how much she missed her parents.

"Mom? I'm. . .I'm fine. My summer has been going good I guess. It's only day two so I can't really say," Y/N answered honestly. "Um. . .how are things back home? How's Dad?"

"Hi, peanut," her father's voice greeted making Y/N still slightly as she got flashbacks of the synagogue. "Things are good so far. That's actually why we called to talk to you. Not only did we want to check up on you, but we have made some progress with the divorce."

It was like the word had physically wounded her, the word 'divorce' punching her straight in the gut and making her lean over and grip onto the table with a sudden desperation.

"Oh," Y/N muttered, but she didn't have time to say anything else before her parents were talking once again.

"We finally got a date for us to sign papers, so by the time you get home, everything will be finalized," her mother explained. "And we also have some exciting news for you!"

There was more?

"We decided that I would stay back in this house while your mother moves into a new house she found on the other side of town. You'll be living with her, so you will be moving over there at the end of the summer," her dad said with a hint of excitement in his voice that didn't go unnoticed by the girl. Was he that desperate to get away from her?

"You'll have a room bigger than the one you have now and there's even a pool in the backyard. Isn't that exciting?" her mother asked, excitement obviously laced in her voice.

"I-" Y/N fell silent as she stood there with a deathly white face. Was this actually happening? Were they being serious right now?

"Of course you will have to switch schools, but you're so sociable that I doubt it will take you long to make some new friends," her mother rambled, neither of Y/N's parents realizing what their words were doing to their daughter.

"That's. . ." Y/N hesitated. What did they want her to say? That it was great and she was so excited for every aspect of her life to change in one summer? That she couldn't wait to get home and move away from her father?

A beeping could be heard from the other side of the line followed by her father sighing before he whispered, "It's the lawyer."

"Peanut, we've got to go, but we just wanted to call and check in. We miss you terribly and are counting down the days until you get home!" her mother exclaimed.

"We love you!" both of her parents said while Y/N just stared blankly at the wall in front of her, not even noticing that Stan had walked up behind her.

Y/N didn't even respond to her parents and just lowered the phone and hung up, the shock and disbelief from the whole situation hitting her at full force. The young girl's lip had started to quiver, her eyes pricking with tears as her parents' words sunk in.

"Y/N?" Stan whispered softly, confusion evident in his voice. The girl turned around slightly, her wide tear filled eyes locking with Stan's eyes almost instantly and making him gasp. A look of worry flashed across his face as a hint of anger flickered through his eyes. "What happened? What did they say?"

Y/N just stared at the boy, still unsure of what had just happened and how to even react. Before Stan could even blink, Y/N had shoved past him, the girl bolting towards the front door while Stan was quick to follow after her.

"Y/N!" Stan called out, but Y/N was already out the door and heading straight towards his bike. Stan ran after her and was just about to reach her when Y/N finished mounting his bike and began to pedal away, hot tears streaming down her face while her cousin desperately cried after her.

Y/N didn't even look back as she pedaled away from the house. She had no destination in mind seeing as she barely knew her way around the town, but she didn't care at the moment.

The house had just felt too stuffy and Stan's concern had just felt like too much at the moment. All she wanted was to be alone to comprehend what had just happened, time alone to realize that her life had changed drastically within only one phone call.

Y/N's whole body shook as she struggled to contain the sobs that were bubbling through her chest. It was like she was blinded by her own tears and sadness and before she knew it, the bike had hit a pot hole. She didn't even have time to blink before she went flying through the air.

Luckily she managed to fall into some grass and Stan's bike was unscathed, but her heart was so utterly broken in that moment as her world caved down around her that she just sat there in the grass and let out a loud sob.

"Fuck!" Y/N whisper yelled as she put her hands against her scalp and lightly pulled her hair. She slowly let her hands come back down to her face and just leaned forward to hug her knees close to her chest.

Why did everything have to change so suddenly? Why was this happening to her? Didn't her parents love her? Did her father even fight to keep her with him?

Millions of questions ran through Y/N's head as she just quietly sobbed to herself. She didn't know how long she had been sitting there, but it got to the point where the sun began to dip below the horizon and the air became a little chillier. Her sobs had quieted, now being replaced with a blank and emotionless look on her face as the remnants of tears covered her face.

Y/N was staring blankly ahead, her eyes focusing on Stan's bike which was lying down in front of her with a wheel slowly rolling in the wind. A single tear rolled down Y/N's face but she didn't bother wiping it away. She was too numb from the amount of pain she had been through the past couple of months. All she wanted was for it to be over, for things to go back to the way they used to be.

The young girl didn't dare moving her gaze as she heard the sound of someone biking up to her, the skidding of feet against gravel as the person slowed down making her do nothing but blink in response. She could hear the crunching of grass beneath someone's feet before the person plopped down beside her almost hesitantly.

It took her a minute, but Y/N let her eyes flicker over to the person allowing her gaze to lock on Bill for a split second before she was looking away once again.

Bill was quiet as he sat there, his eyes flickering over the girl's form as a look of worry and concern dawned his face. He didn't even know what to say, but finally found it in himself to clear his throat before saying, "You know, Stan's w-w-worried sick about you."

Y/N didn't respond, but she didn't shy away either so Bill took that as a good sign and continued. "He c-c-called all of us Losers up to try and f-f-find you since you stole his bike. Richie and Eddie are b-b-biking around here somewhere," Bill explained.

Once again, the girl was silent. However, this time, she moved her hand up to wipe the stray tears from her face before she pulled her knees even closer to her chest. Bill frowned ever so slightly before hesitantly reaching over and brushing some of the girl's hair behind her ear, neither of them thinking much of it when his fingers lingered against her cheek for a moment.

"What's wrong?" Bill whispered, his voice soft and curious. That slight hint of concern and worry was still there, but maybe it was the fact that his voice was just so warm and caring that Y/N found herself wanting to open up to him, a few more tears escaping from her eyes as the emotions bubbled up inside of her.

"It's. . .it's complicated," Y/N admitted, her voice cracking as she looked at Bill. She tried to give him a sad smile, but he could see the pain it caused her to do so. Her lip quivered and another tear fell as she tried to swallow down the sob that was begging to escape.

"I know all about th-th-things being complicated," Bill sighed as he looked away and out at the road ahead of them. "I don't know how much you know, but my brother. . .h-h-he. . ." Bill had to swallow back his own sob as he clenched his fist. "He went m-m-missing and um. . .we haven't been able to find him. Everyone has been t-t-telling me to give up hope, b-b-but I. . .I can't. I just. . .he's out there. I know he is."

Bill was trying his hardest not to cry as he finally let his eyes flicker back over to Y/N only to find her staring at him with tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry," Y/N finally whispered, suddenly feeling stupid for acting the way that she was. She looked away in embarrassment, her cheeks turning a tinge red as she whispered, "My parents are getting a divorce."

Y/N's lip was quivering as she looked down at her shaking hands. "That's why I'm here this summer, so that they can finalize things. They. . .they called today to tell me about it and how my mom has already found a new house that I will be living in. When I get back, I'll be living on the opposite side of town with my mom and going to a new school. And I just. . ." the girl was silent as she looked up at the sky, trying to keep the tears back because she felt like crying after hearing Bill's story would only make her tears seem stupid.

"Everything's changing," Y/N finally said, her voice cracking as she did so. "And it's all changing so fast. It feels like my whole life is falling apart and I just-"

"Don't know what to do," Bill and Y/N both whispered in unison. Y/N looked over at the boy, and the two shared sad smiles. They both may have had different stories, but they both could relate to that. After all, how were they as thirteen year olds supposed to fix all of their family problems?

"I don't know. This all seems kind of stupid now," Y/N said despite those words hurting her even more. Bill frowned and reached out to grab ahold of her hand, a way of getting her to look at him while he stared at her with the most sincere and stern look she had ever seen.

"It's not s-s-stupid," Bill assured her. "I know things are all changing so f-f-fast, but you got to think about the things that are still going to remain constant. Your parents are still g-g-going to love you just as much as they do now. You'll still h-h-have Beverly and Richie and Eddie and Ben. You'll s-s-still have me. You'll still have Stan who is at home worried s-s-sick about you. Not everything will change, Y/N."

Y/N was quiet, but gently squeezed Bill's hand in a silent thank you while the boy just admired her. Knowing that he couldn't stare at her forever and that Stan was still at home practically burning footsteps into the floor from how fast he was pacing, Bill squeezed the girl's hand again and whispered, "You can always talk to any of us if you want, especially Stan. Stan will listen, you know he will."

"You're right," Y/N sighed, finally feeling like the smallest of weights had been lifted off of her shoulders thanks to the boy sitting beside her. "I should probably get back to him, huh?"

Bill gave her a sad smile, "Probably." Y/N returned the smile and Bill didn't even hesitate to reach over and wipe the tears from the girl's face, an action that made them both blush before Bill quickly hopped upon onto his feet. He shyly held a hand out to her and Y/N took it before he pulled her up off the ground.

Y/N stood and looked up, her eyes locking on Bill who was only inches away from her face. The two both went wide eyed for a moment, both afraid to move as they realized just how close they were. Bill could feel the Uris girl's breath fanning his face and he swore his heart had never beat so fast in his life.

Was this what a heart attack felt like?

"Fucking hell!" a voice suddenly exclaimed from afar causing the two to quickly take a step away from each other as they turned to see Eddie and Richie pedaling their way down the street and towards the two.

"What the actual fuck, Uris! Where the fuck have you been?" Richie asked, a slightly angry yet concerned look on his face as he pulled his bike to a stop in front of the two.

Eddie pulled up beside him not even a second later, his eyes full of concern as he looked over Y/N before whispering worriedly, "Are you okay?"

"I am now," Y/N whispered, still slightly embarrassed at everything that had just happened. She didn't understand why she was such a crybaby or why she ran out of the house like she did. Her aunt and uncle were going to kill her. Not to mention how upset she must have made Stan.

Richie still had a look of anger on his face, but it slowly dissolved once he saw the red around the girl's eyes, a sigh that she had been crying. He sat there for a second before reaching up to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Well, don't do it again, okay? I don't want to spend my night looking around for you because you got fucking lost or something," Richie said in his true Richie fashion.

It was obvious he was trying to hide his concern for the girl, but Y/N already knew and she couldn't help but smile softly at the boy before she looked between him, Eddie, and Bill. "Thanks for coming to look for me," she said, her voice soft and apologetic.

"Of course. We just wanted to make sure our friend was okay," Eddie said, a small smile on his face as he looked at the girl. "You are okay, right?"

"I will be," Y/N assured him, her eyes flickering over to Bill who gave her the tiniest of smiles. She looked back over at the two boys standing in front of her and gave them a small smile before saying, "I should probably get back to Stanley."

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea," Eddie chuckled, thinking back to how Stan had called him practically on the verge of tears as he had asked for their help to find his cousin.

"We'll ride home with you," Bill said as he went to get on his bike, Y/N doing the same with Stan's bike.

"What?" Richie began to protest, but one look from Eddie and a glare from Bill had the boy pouting and falling silent.

Y/N smiled softly and the boys and nodded her head as she mounted Stan's bike. "I'd like that," she whispered and even Richie couldn't stop himself from smiling back as the four began to pedal back down the road and towards Stan's house.

The boys didn't bother questioning her more about why she had run away as they biked home and Y/N couldn't have been more thankful. In fact, listening to Richie joke around was exactly what she needed to hear, small laughs escaping her lips as she pedaled making the others smile in response. Y/N's laughter always had been able to make them do that.

It took a little bit, but they eventually reached the Uris household where they could see Stan nervously sitting on the front porch steps with his head in his hands. Y/N felt her heart break at the sight and she barely managed to whisper a goodbye to Bill, Richie, and Eddie before she was biking up the driveway.

She hopped off the bike and slowly began to walk up the driveway while the boys rode past and towards their own homes, knowing that Y/N was now safe with Stan. The young girl made a point to put the kick stand out on the bike before she hesitantly walked over to the stairs where Stan was still sitting.

The sound of her footsteps was enough to make the curly haired boy look up, his eyes widening at the sight of her as he jumped onto his feet. Y/N stopped walking and the two just stood there for a moment in silence.

Y/N couldn't even imagine what Stan wanted to say and all she could think about was how he had to be mad at her. That alone was enough to make her look down at the ground, not wanting to see the look of disappointment and anger that she knew was bound to fall upon her cousin's face.

Stan merely shook his head and took three quick strides before he collided into the girl, his arms wrapping around her tightly as he held her as close to him as he possibly could. Y/N was shocked by the sudden contact, but her cousin's embrace was enough to have her melting into a puddle of tears again as she desperately latched onto the boy like her life depended on it.

Her hands balled into fists on the boy's shirt while Stan cradled the back of her head with his hand, holding her close to him as he just comforted her. No words were spoken between the two, but words weren't needed.

The two cousins just stood there in each other's embrace while Y/N silently wondered to herself how she had been blessed to have a cousin like Stanley Uris. And it was in that moment that she really knew what Bill meant when he said she would never be alone. For she not only had the Losers, Beverly, and Ben to talk to, but her curly haired cousin and best friend as well.

And with people like them by her side, Y/N knew she was going to be okay.

* * *

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eccentricpony · 4 years ago

Note

Hi, your kaomojis were so cute! UwU Could I request a movie theater date hc with Tenma? ty!!

Hey anon, thanks for visiting my page! I’d be happy to write this for you! I’m going to write in the style of bulleted imagine if that’s okay. My writing style is usually a usually a little campy humorous, a little emotional, a little sexy, and sometimes flowery.

I apologize if my tenses changed, or the style changed, but I just wanted to have fun with it. Maybe possibly a tiny bit implied NSFW but not really.

· You were determined to take Tenma to a movie theater as soon as you had found out he had never been to one.

· Despite his fame, you had learned that this child star beau of yours had missed out on many opportunities that you had taken for granted growing up. Your boyfriend was an odd blend of mature and immature due to his isolation and the pressure to manage a full-time profession at the age of seven. Fame has a price, as they say.

· He was hesitant at first – visiting a heavy traffic social scene meant donning sunglasses, avoiding eye contact… but you had already figured that part out! You’d be soliciting Monster Movie Night at the old theater-turned-cinema in the town square. You were sure Tenma would appreciate the 19th century theater aesthetic, and it was sure to have less attendees than the cinema at the mall.

· And what better movie genre to experience in an old, darkened theater than a classic horror!

· Yeah, no, Tenma was having none of that.

· He claimed that the movie you chose had received bad reviews.

· You then forwarded him the 97% fresh rating from RottenApples.com.

· He argued that the antagonist of the film was an actor he had worked with before and it would be “too weird” to watch someone he knew go on a killing spree.

· You proceeded to locate said actor on IFDB.com to find that he had passed away two years before Tenma was born.

· The lake of excuses having run dry, Tenma agreed to pick you up at 1pm that coming Saturday.

· Tenma was a bit more fidgety than usual in the back of his family limo. You assumed that it was date night jitters, which was so very precious. The old-fashioned theater marquee came into view, and you excitedly shuffled closer to the window. Nightmare on Birch Street! It had been ages since you had seen the film, and you couldn’t recall how the victims had all been killed… was it Chauncey who had been impaled by the school flagpole? You continued to jabber excitedly, the exhilarated sentiments floating through your head remaining unscathed as Tenma had the common courtesy to feign a cough so you couldn’t glimpse his sour expression.

· The journey from the ticket kiosk to the theater was uneventful. There were a few stares, and a “Aren’t you that kid? From the show? At that school?” but you made it to your seats in under 10.

· Wow, they really renovated this place! It was a bit sad to see that the creaky wooden seats of the theater had been replaced with cushy, high-tech armchairs, but it was comforting to know you wouldn’t be suffering a butt-ache following the film.

· Immediately, Tenma started messing with the seat like he was in a dentist’s chair. Leg rest up, back down, leg rest down, back straight, back flat. 123 degree angle…

· “Don’t you have chairs like this at home, rich boy?”

· “Yeah, but I never sit in my living room. There’s never anyone there.”

· Oh. You held out the bag of popcorn as a peace offering. “Well, you know that you’re welcome at my house any time you like.”

· “Yeah so I can recite the monologue from Shinobi Love Song to your mom for the 100th time? I’ll pass”

· “Forget it, sunshine. It was hasty of me to assume you’d be able to find my house without the guidance of Igawa…”

· Cheeky banter was the norm with the two of you, and you never tired of it. He handed you the box of Soup Patch kids with a feigned scowl as the lights in the theater began to dim. Leg rest up, back at a 95 degree angle was his final decision.

· He figured he’d have sometime before the killing started, so he decided to try and pay attention to the overall plot and characters, in case you had questions for him later. So wait… the killer doesn’t actually murder them in real life, but in their dreams? What kind of late night, infomercial hour, made-for-TV junk is this…

· Time to do the classic yawn and stretch. Smooth as a milkshake, he performed what he felt was a very believable yawn (practiced to a fault due to all of his roles as a too-cool-for-school hottie) and casually rested the stretch of his arm across your shoulder.

· You had been dating for about 7 months now. You had been moderately intimate. For Tenma to put on this song-and-dance just to hold onto you was a surefire tell that he was nervous. You hadn’t even really considered that maybe he didn’t like horror. You just assumed that because he was an acting professional that he was also a film aficionado, and a fan of all genres, at that. Stop pigeonholing him! you reminded yourself. Sure, he was perfect to you, but you had to let go of those preconceived notions.

· You turned and leaned closer to him, close enough to kiss. His throat constricted, he had heard there was more to these cinemas than just watching the movie. He prayed to God that this was your intention all along.

· “We can leave if you’re not into it” you insisted into his cheek.

· Pulse still quickening through his neck, he sat back and shook is head.

· “Nah babe, it’s cool. I liked the…” He proceeded to regurgitate every possible fact he had learned about the film within the last 15 minutes.

· Damn, so he was paying attention. You knew there was no point coaxing him to leave once he had made his mind up to stay, so instead you leaned forward and gave him a peck on the nose.

· “You’re adorable.”

· “Tch…” He bristled returning his back to the seat, but with the pouty pleased grin of a child who received praise for a shitty drawing. He watched as your eyes returned to the screen, and you flicked a few pieces of popcorn into your pretty mouth. Now what to do?

· Anything but look at the screen, really. Beads of sweat began to collect on his brow as the movie soundtrack reached a crescendo. He swiftly brushed them off into his already unruly ginger mane. He needed to distract himself, at least until the slicing and dicing had desisted.

· What’s this hole for? Tenma located an out of place hole attached to the arm of the chair. It doesn’t seem to have a bottom, but it does taper off deeper down. Curiosity got the best of him, and he casually slid his hand down into the soft drink cupholder. That’s freakin’ weird, there’s nothing even down there. Dumb. And he promptly finds his hand very much stuck.

· Shit, now what? Now he was really sweating. Some freakin’ great newspaper article this would make. “Teen drama heartthrob finds himself arrested not by the eyes of a young beauty, but the grasp of a plastic cupholder.” His father would kill him, to be sure. He’d probably have to sign autographs for all of the firefighters who removed the plastic cupholder from around his sore wrist. Here he is, trying so very hard to be a man’s man, to weather the barbarism that is horror cinema just to impress you, and now he’d gotten his hand stuck in the metaphorical cookie jar like a damn kid.

· He twists and pulls but he can’t get the heel of his palm back through the opening. He jerks his hand in frustration and elbows your flimsy paper cup of Canada Dry. Oh, so that’s what they’re for…

· “Hey! You got ginger ale on me, what are you doing?” You cocked an eyebrow at his hunched form.

· “Sorry, sorry! Yeah, I- I think I’ve got it. Don’t worry about me- hey! I think that guy in on a TV show with my father.”

· Snapping your head back to the screen, you consented that the man did indeed work with Tenma’s father (you’ve told him this before, he’s one of your favorite actors, and now you need to remind him again why his acting is so transcendent that even in a horror movie he can make the most mundane gestures seem so…)

· To Tenma’s great relief, it turns out ginger ale makes a passable lubricant. Using the splash that now trickled down his forearm, he twisted his wrist and managed to retrieve his very sore hand, tingling with pins and needles as he returned it to his lap. He sensed that you’ve finished your rant and offers a vacant smile. “Yeah… he’s a talented guy…” Crisis averted.

· Back to all the crazy shit happening on Birch Street. Tenma blanched as the whir of a chainsaw could be heard offscreen.

· “You okay? he asked, leaning over to comfort you which really wasn’t necessary whatsoever since you actually seemed extremely excited and not the least bit worried or bothered by all of the disgusting blood and guts and weird fleshy ceiling splayed onto the wall by the projector overhead.

· Before you had a chance to reply, he nuzzled in close to you, his hair brushing your cheek as he snuggled next to your chin. D’aww. You wiggled closer, touching the side of your forehead to his as the shrieks of the Final Girl could be felt penetrating the very seat below you. Great acoustics.

· Tenma wiggles his head into the crook of your neck to avoid looking at the carnage, murmuring an almost devious “Don’t be scared” into your ear before pressing a kiss to the column of your throat.

· Your heart leaps into your ears at the sudden burst of semi-public affection; Tenma wasn’t big on PDA, and you were cool with that. He smelled like a mix of clean cotton and Cool Water (they still make that?) He didn’t really do much besides camp out there above your collarbone after that, but his ghosting breath gave you pleasant chills, so you didn’t tell him he was missing the best part.

· You smelled like almonds and Freesia, he considered. His mother loved Freesia and she had planted them all along their estate courtyard, though she was rarely at home long enough to enjoy it. Tenma enjoyed sitting in the courtyard as a child. While the house was always eerily silent aside from the sterile hum of electricity, the courtyard was always full of tweets and twittering after school, and a discordant chorus of various chirping in the evening. That was what homes are supposed to be like, he had always thought. Chaotic and noisy, but full of life. It was his safe haven, and you carried the scent of it on your skin. You were his new sanctuary… a little pocket of protection from the pains of fake friends and real insecurities.

· These are his last thoughts before he fell asleep. You realize he’s out like a light as the credits roll, and you feel a sliver of drool trail down your clavicle. Hot.

· “Tenma? Hey!” He startles awake and you attempt to suppress a grin. “Hope it was a good dream.”

· Tenma may not have book smarts, but he’s far from stupid. He knows that you know he hated it, and he knows that you know that he knows he was just playing the brave guy to shield his ego. He was beginning to confuse himself, so instead he focused on the core of the matter – he loved you enough to feign interest in something you liked, and you loved him enough to go along with it.

· “They’re always great when they feature my favorite co-star.” He leaned forward and gave the bridge of your nose a chaste smooch.

· Gahhh. The right side of your mouth pinches up in a grin. Damn you and your flawless smileyou’re your immaculate stage presence.

· After he returned his hat and sunglasses to their proper place, with twin grins syrupy-sweet enough to make Yuki vomit, you exited the theater.

· Once outside, he took your hand and pulled you off to the side of the theater, at the mouth of the little alleyway that led to a street behind the theater. His wide palm and long fingers felt warm and comforting, though rather sticky and smelling oddly of ginger.

· “Thanks for coming out with me. I know it’s a pain in the ass for you,” you offered before he could speak.

· “Nah,” he deflects. “I’m used to it.”

· You knew he still hated it.

· “Plus, you’re worth it,” he added, feet shuffling and pink tinging the tips of his ears.

· Butterflies, oh so many butterflies. Rolling onto your toes, you leaned up and kissed him. After a meager gasp of surprise, he returned it with fervor, nose brushing against yours as he experimented with a few different head angles. Sour Patch kids never tasted so good.

· The thump of a closing car door was unfortunately audible above the sounds of your smacking mouths – Igawa was on the move and ready to shuffle the prince of teen dramas and his beloved to the safety of the Sumeragi Cadillac CT5. You groaned in unison, and not the good kind.

· Dragging your mouths apart, your mutual stares shared a silent vow that you would find a way to pick this up again later. Without a word, you both emerged from the shadows, fingers tangled tighter together as you steeled yourselves for a lecture from Igawa on the dangers of lingering in crowded places.

· You had no doubt there would still be plenty more adjustments to be made by both parties, and many a wall to gently tumble down. But that was a future nearly too resplendent to imagine, when where you were now was already a pretty fantastic place to be.

#a3!#a3! actor training game #tenma sumeragi #tenma x reader #a3! imagines #a3! headcanons #a3 imagines #a3 headcanons #a3 tenma #sumeragi tenma #a3! tenma #a3 actor training game #act! addict! actors!

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nctzendreamz · 5 years ago

Text

HOMECOMING • PROLOGUE

Prologue / Part l / Part ll / Part lll

Summary: The year is 3030, and the divide between the rich and poor couldn’t be greater. Wildwood University is the most prestigious school in the entire world, but it isn’t only because of the impeccable flying cars that can be seen best during the fuchsia lit nights, or the dexterous education everyone receives. It has secrets. A lot of secrets.

Genre: Gang!AU, Futuristic!AU

Warnings: Vivid descriptions of violence, foul language, drug use, and murder.

Author’s Note: I love you all. I hope you will love this rollercoaster of emotions as much as I do.

Once upon a time, there was a boy. This boy was gentle, and loved to explore. Sometimes, he’d even allow his imagination to posses his body, pretending he was something he knew he’d never be, such as a racecar driver, a superhero, or his favorite—loved.

Now, as that boy travels down the dark corridor that lead to his instructor, he can’t help but to smile. His left hand caresses the mangled brick wall, reminding him of every waste of space that had been dismembered in his sanctuary. Even the two men who were unnecessarily escorting him down the dimly lit space seemed frightened at the way he lightly chuckles to himself, but they know if they look at him wrong, he’ll simply kill them too.

As they approach what was known as the “black door”, he knocks a familiar tune, informing the man on the other side it was one of his own.

With an almost cinematic effect, all of the locks audibly unravel, and a flashing light blinks onto his face, silently giving him permission to step in. He looks around, trying to see if any new souvenirs had been added to the otherwise plain walls, but he sees nothing fresh. The picture of all of the boys of NEO rests in the center of the large room, and as always, he spots himself first.

“Lee Taeyong.” A deep voice addresses, obviously coming from the leather chair which was turned the opposing way.

“Mr. Sooman.” He bows, although the man couldn't see him. They didn’t have the technology for such a myth, but there was always a fear he had eyes in the back of his head.

The chair slowly begins to turn, revealing the only person in this world that brought fear into Taeyong. His current sadistic smile was a testament to that, as well as the sweat that began to form under the arms of the boy.

“Why so stiff? It’s just me, your father?” He teases.

“My apologies.” Was all Taeyong could muster, now wanting nothing more than to get straight to the point. He wanted his mission.

“Did you take your pill today?”

“Of course I did.” He lied.

“Then why are you so jittery? He eyes the slim boy suspiciously, standing up now.

Taeyong decides on silence, as he doesn’t want to speak his truth to his father figure. His eyes once again fall on the photo hanging, and he tries to relax himself by focusing on his hair color. He can now vaguely see it’s raging orange print, probably the most color he’d ever see in his lifetime.

His meditation is interrupted with the sound of two precise claps, and a tiny robot now at his feet projecting light onto the blank wall. What seemed like millions of photos appear one by one, and so much color. Even though it was faded, he was still incredibly fascinated.

His eyebrows are raised ever so slightly, and his mouth waters, yet, he can still sense his elder approaching him. It ran through his blood to do so. He always had to be on guard. If anyone was able to run up on you, and hurt you even slightly, you’d most likely be murdered by the others because—how can you be so dumb? How can you sleep at night without the feeling of someone watching you? Your hairs stand up, a chill stretches against you. It’s very simple, actually.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of Wildwood?”

Taeyong snaps his focus back on the man who’s eyes were watching him intently. “Yes. Founded in 2002 by Lobos Smith. Known as the most prestigious, and honorable university in the world. They specialize in futuristic science, and were the first school to perfect the seemingly impossible flying car. In short, rich motherfuckers.” He spat, feeling his blood pressure heighten at the mention of wealthy.

“Very good, boy.” Mr. Sooman continues to circle his apprentice, as the wood floor creaks with his every step. “As you know, we’ve always had buisness with the Smith’s.”

Taeyong nods confidently, showing with his body language that he was genuinely aware of this fact.

“Well, I want you to kill them.”

The screen zooms into four faces, none of them familiar to him. A man, a woman, a girl, and a boy.

“This is the Smith family. Maleen Smith, President of Wildwood. His wife, Bianca, his son Johnny, and your most important target, Y/N.”

“Why is she the most important?” Taeyong questions, finally getting comfortable in his element. You could say what you wanted about him, but you couldn’t deny his manipulative talents, and serious approach for his job. He was always thirsty for blood.

“Because she is their pride and joy.” Mr. Sooman responds with a devilish grin, clearly knowing more than he was revealing. “Sweet girl, smart girl, naive girl.”

“So what? You want me and the guys to meet them for dinner or something? Blast their heads off?”

The team of NEO was a dangerous one, and everyone who lived in this hell knew it. Their kills were always vicious, but the handmade masks they wore during their greatest hits hid their identity. All of them were specifically designed to the personalities of the boys, and their set skills. Taeyong, for example, always spotted a bedazzled fox, labeled red although he had yet to test that to be true. It was a metaphor to his sly nature, always able to easily grab the attention of clueless street-walkers. They were so awful at selling, and making deals for drugs that made people go off the charts. So easy to take advantage of.

They were essentially target practice. Something to play with. A pure rush; giving them their fix of killing and feeling superior because in any of situation, they were powerless. They were poor, and every fucking day did they have to watch projections of news from the other side. So many new inventions. More ways to protect the earth from falling back to its horrid ways. The way NEO looked. Dirty—dull.

Taeyong’s hand naturally reaches for his weapon that was always stashed in his pants, and quite a few scenarios run through his brain; different approaches that could be taken. “Call the meeting and consider it done, sir.”

“While I do appreciate your hungry nature, boy; I’m sure you’ve noticed that you’re the only person in this room right now, haven’t you?” The undertone of his voice reads nothing but menace, and Taeyong is truly trying his hardest to prevent his eyes from squeezing shut, or letting a mere drip of sweat dazzle from his forehead onto the ground. It would reveal he did indeed lie about taking his pill, and that would mean he’d have to double up.

“I have noticed, but I figured that I was in here because I’m the most superior.”

In reality, he wasn’t such a cocky bastard. At least, when he wasn’t high off of Indigo. That was the drug Sooman kept pestering him about, and it was what seperared NEO from the rest of the poor souls who lived in this baseless city. That’s what they were told.

Indigo made them strong, and it made them unstoppable. The more they took, the greater their kills felt, and the more their talents shined. Some were more addicted than others, and didn’t care about the black and white scenery that covered their headspace. Others, like Taeyong, planned to sneak up to the rooftop of the building tonight and see the sky, even if it would be half colored, half gray. At least that was the plan, before now.

They were always told that if they didn’t take their pill, the side effects would be deadly. Taeyong now knows this to be true, as his anxiety couldn’t be more intense in an environment where he was usually light and easy, and his mind is spinning. Random spurts of color can be seen everytime he moves his eyes in another direction, and even the colors on the projector are incredibly detailed.

“So you did take your pill today.” The man laughs, patting him on the back. “You’re right, you know.” His voice is light now, almost like a switch removing his dark demeanor. The sound of the floor creaking was practically making Taeyong lose his mind, but he can’t show it. “You are the best. And that is why this mission isn’t going to just be a ‘get the job done’ kind of mission.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” He reaches for his back pocket, pulling out a sheet of paper. It was folded into three, and Taeyong can feel his eyebrows basically touching, and his petite nose scrunching as he opened up his mail.

“Congratulations on being excepted into Wildwood University! Founded in 2002, it’s always been Wildwood’s mission to accept the best, so the future can be bright! Lee Taeyong, we cannot wait for you to transfer to our school of futuristic science, and see all you have to offer the brightest side of the world!”

That was all he had to see before he looks up in shock, clearly unable to believe in such an opportunity.

“I’m going—

“Yes. You, a poor boy, going to their world.”

“And I’m going to invade.” He seemingly finished.

“You’re not just going to invade. You’re going to make that girl fall in love with you, and you’re going to make those wealthy pieces of shit trust you, and then—when they finally accept you as their son, and that girl would die for you, you will bring them to me.”

“Like a parasite.”

“No. You, my boy, were born to eliminate the parasites. They don’t deserve to multiply, or reproduce.”

Maybe it was because of the lack of intoxication, but Taeyong feels himself getting too excited about this. The manipulation was excellent, and the plan couldn’t fail. He was charming in all aspects of the word.

“What did they do to you?” Was his final question. He once again is in a stare down with the older man infront of him, who had returned to his seat now.

“They took something from us, and they have to pay. No mistake goes unseen in NEO. You know that.”

“I won’t let you down, sir.” Taeyong bows, just as he did when he originally walked in. The respect was clear, even if the roots of the plan seemed eerie. He trusted his leader with his life, and if he said someone needed to die, it was the truth. He was going to bring their heads back on a silver fucking platter.

#nct #nct 127 #nct taeyong #taeyong #nct series #nct imagine #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct scenario #taeyong nct #homecoming #kpop #gang au #nct gang au #kpop gang au #kpop imagine

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pug-bitch · 5 years ago

Text

That’s not why I’m going (39)

Not again

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez

Rating: some foul language, some extremely suggestive. This is absolutely NOT appropriate for people under 18.

Word count: about 3,800 (I’m still on the app, so still no ‘keep reading’ unfortunately, sorry about that!!)

Notes: This picks up exactly where we left off, during the Decision Ball, as Liam is about to announce his choice (sorry again for the cliffhanger, guys, I know I pushed it kinda far :D), starting with Madeleine’s POV.

*****

Madeleine takes her place on the podium, with all the other ladies. She makes a point of staying very far from the ones she despises, which only leaves her with Kiara near her. The rest of them can fuck off.

Her heart is beating faster, but her face is impassible. Her breathing is even, her poise is perfect. Just like she’s been taught. Just like she’s been teaching herself, all her life.

The few seconds that separate her from knowing her fate drag on. When is Liam going to fucking say it? What if she failed at her mission? What if he still wants to choose the slutty commoner? She wishes the King had gone through his original plan to divulge something else on her, before the Decision. What if Madeleine needs that extra advantage?

Suddenly, she’s nervous. She has to keep it together, though, she can’t let it show. No, not now, not when she’s so close to the goal she’s fixed for herself. She looks at the crowd in front of her. Her father’s chair is irrevocably empty. He didn’t make it back from London for the occasion, probably thinking that she’s a lost cause after her broken engagement. Her mother, on the other hand, is here, but it’s exactly as if she weren’t. She’s pounding champagne flutes like it’s her job, not even looking at her regal daughter.

Suddenly, her vision blurs. All eyes are on her. Did she hear it right?

‘Lady Madeleine, I choose you. Will you accept this ring?’

Yes, yes she did. She heard it right. Time to flash a smile, to seal the deal.

‘I will,’ she says. And the crowd claps.

*****

Bastien sighs as he exits the room, about to execute the plan laid out by the King. Is this really necessary? The Prince has chosen the woman that his father wanted him to choose. Why hound the others?

He knows this is above his pay grade. But what can he say, when the King himself is giving the orders? So, he finds Rocco, one of the staff members who has been helping out with the plans, and he hands him the flashdrive.

‘When the first song ends, turn off the lights and project this.’

Rocco nods and leaves, without a word.

Well, Bastien thinks, it’s out of his hands, now.

*****

Amara turns to Olivia and Hana, a hesitant look on her face. She wants to rejoice —Liam hasn’t insisted, and hasn’t chosen her, plus he’s left Olivia alone, too. But parts of her fear that Cordonia’s future won’t be optimal, with such a cold and calculating Queen, and an immature and self-involved King. A few weeks ago, she would have just thought that it’s not her problem, but she’s come to love this country, and the people in it. Plus, she can’t help but think that Madeleine most definitely being behind all the leaks shows that there is no justice in the world. She got what she wanted, by means of deception and manipulation.

Still, Amara is relieved. Maybe she can go back to living her life, now? Liv and Hana give her a relieved but wary smile, and she understands that they’re on the same page as her.

All three of them turn to Madeleine and offer her their congratulations, which she accepts gracefully. If anything, the bitch is perfect for the job, on paper, Amara thinks.

Time for the first dance for the newly engaged couple. The other ladies leave the podium and regain their table, where they can watch Liam and Madeleine dance the Cordonian waltz —Amara looks all around her and meets Drake’s eye. He smiles at her, and her heart melts. Are they free, now? Is it that simple? Maybe she’s simply scared of believing it, maybe it’s just too good to be true.

‘Are you ok?’ Amara whispers to Liv.

She nods. ‘Yeah. Relieved for myself —and you—, but scared for the future of this fucking country.’ She shakes her head. ‘This bitch got what she wanted after all,’ she says under her breath.

Hana nods. ‘Now it’s time for the nobility to be on their toes, to counteract any crazy, cold-hearted moves she might make.’

Amara smiles. ‘Agreed. Liv, you and Bertrand, and Rashad and the others, you’ll have some work to do.’

Liv smirks. ‘Well… maybe not just us. Think about it. Maybe it’s the right time to make the most of the offer that will come your way soon.’

Amara looks at her, and Liv raises an eyebrow, a mischievous look on her face. Amara sighs. ‘So you think I should accept? And sign with my blood, basically, to be in the spotlight all my life, and no be able to return home to see my family?’

Liv sighs. ‘Don’t be dramatic, Suarez. Chill out. I was just mentioning it, but you do what you want. Plus, this isn’t The Little Mermaid or some shit —you can go back to the ocean to see your Daddy, no one is cutting off your legs.’

Hana frowns. ‘I’m not sure you watched the movie right, Olivia.’

Amara laughs. ‘Yeah, it’s not how it works. But I do agree that my dad has a King Triton vibe. Especially the beard.’ She takes a sip of her champagne. ‘But you’re right. I’ll think about it, at least.’

She is thinking about it, though. And, although it sounds tempting —being in Cordonia, with her friends, and not having to worry about returning to her depressing life in NYC— she can’t help but think about how miserable it would be for Drake. For them both. For Dramara, as Max would say. They would have to hide, at least until they tell Liam about their relationship, and then who knows how he would react.

But Amara’s thoughts have to wait. Eyes on the present. Liam and Madeleine end the waltz with a deep curtsy to the audience, who claps harder and harder. Amara finishes her glass, now is time for the dancefloor to be open to everyone. She should invite Max to dance.

But before she can get up, all lights are out. Gasps all around.

‘What the fuck?’ Liv whispers.

Amidst the commotion, Amara hears many panicked comments, a lot of them being ‘Not again’, and she remembers what Drake and Max had told her about the previous assassination attempts at court. Her instincts kick in and she gets up to place herself in front of Hana and Liv.

But a few seconds later, a light comes on. Not from one of the main chandeliers, but from a projector that sheds light on the stage. Amara’s heart beats faster. What the hell could this be?

Suddenly, she understands. The projector shows a massive picture, that she recognizes instantly.

It’s a picture of her, with Tariq. She is in her underwear, and Tariq’s hands are around her waist, making it look like they’re about to have sex. The shot is taken from a distance, with a zoom lens, which gives the picture a blurry quality. If it wasn’t this blurry, maybe people could see Amara’s disgusted and shocked look, but no.

All they see is a woman who’s sleeping with a friend of the guy she’s supposed to compete with.

A lot of Ooh and Aahs resonate through the ballroom, and Amara can hear Liv and Hana next to her, cursing out loud. She could almost smile at the thought of Hana swearing like a sailor, but her heart’s not in it.

*****

Drake’s heart jumps in his chest as he sees the picture on the ballroom wall. How dare they?

He leaps up on his feet, quickly followed by Maxwell and Michael, who is clearly wondering what’s going on. Of course he is; whoever took the picture made sure to get Amara’s profile so she wouldn’t look under attack, and they waited for the exact right moment to take the photo.

They had been waiting it out in the building across, and they knew Tariq would be there.

Tears of rage fill Drake’s eyes. So, they submitted Amara to an assault so they could get this picture? So they could ensure that she wouldn’t be Queen?

He just knows Madeleine has something to do with it. She has to.

But what breaks his heart is that Bastien does too.

*****

Leo chugs the rest of his drink. Damn, this social season is full of surprises. He’s almost jealous of all of the attention his little brother is getting, all the drama he’s inspiring.

This Amara is definitely not shy, though. He wasn’t wrong to try something with her, earlier, she would probably say yes if he insisted. Food for thought.

He looks around the room, and his eyes stop on her. She’s standing up, her chin wobbly. Hm, not the look of someone who’s been caught red-handed. She looks like she’s about to cry, when two minutes ago, she seemed perfectly happy not to have been chosen. Odd.

His head turns to the next table. More people are standing up. Maxwell, of course, who’s probably shocked to get an eyeful of his protégée. That man who’s Max’s plus one, too.

And Drake. Drake who’s standing up, helpless, his eyes wet.

Again—odd.

*****

Liam takes a deep breath as the lights come back on. For a split second when the lights went off, his heart jumped in his chest, and he flashed back to the last time the whole ballroom went dark. And the time before. When one of these sudden moments deprived him of his mother. And then, later on, when his father was targeted, and Drake’s saved him, at the cost of his own life. He shakes the feeling off. This whole thing was bad, for a completely different set of reasons. Madeleine turns to him and, in a monotone voice, whispers, ‘Wow. She had some guts sleeping with your friend behind your back. Is that why Tariq left court suddenly?’

Liam’s head spins. He nods. ‘Yes, I suppose it is,’ he whispers back.

He can’t say more. Not yet. He has to keep it together, for the sake of appearances. But there’s a lot he needs to think about.

He clears his throat and puts on his best regal smile, trying not to look at Amara, who is running out of the room. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, my security team and I will look into this matter as soon as possible, but for now, since everyone is unharmed, let’s resume the festivities.’

Most of the courtiers start chatting again, but Liam can see clearly that his close friends are trickling out, one by one, to follow Amara. Again.

He’s dying to do the same. Check on her, see if she’s holding up ok. This has happened two days in a row now. He can’t even imagine how targeted she must feel.

As the music starts again, his father approaches him. ‘Liam, you better invite your fiancée to dance again,’ he says. He gets closer to him and whispers in his ear, ‘See, when I told you it wasn’t a good idea to let strangers in. Now she has made a fool out of all of us.’

Liam frowns as his father goes back to his seat. This is awfully convenient. Just earlier, his father was trying to convince him not to let Amara stay, and now she was exposed and framed?

Yep, someone was taken for a fool alright.

Too bad for his father, Liam knows that the picture that was just projected up there does not depict a consensual encounter.

*****

Drake is breathless when he gets outside, where Amara is trying to calm down, near the fountain. ‘Here you are,’ he says, ‘are you ok?’

She nods and laughs through tears. ‘What the fuck, right? That was a setup?’

Drake sighs deeply. ‘I know. I don’t even know what to say.’

She shakes her head. ‘There’s nothing to say. We’re in the middle of a snake nest. There are some people in there who are not above staging a fucking sexual aggression to get what they want.’ She laughs nervously. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy Liam chose Madeleine, as in I’m happy he didn’t pick me, or Liv, or Hana. But man, it does hurt to see that the worst people get rewarded for their shitty actions.’

Drake nods and closes in the distance between them, enveloping Amara in a warm hug, not caring one bit if someone sees them. ‘Babe,’ he whispers, ‘I think Madeleine was helped by Bastien. He did tell me a while ago that whoever he works for has some dirt on you, I just thought the dirt was...well, Michael, after last night.’

Amara tightens her grip on Drake and takes a deep breath. ‘Fuck...I’m sorry, Drake, I know Bastien meant a lot to you.’

Drake snorts. ‘I’m the one who should be sorry, Amara. I wish I could make you feel better, right now.’

Amara smiles. ‘You are making me feel better. Just you being here with me helps.’

An out-of-breath Maxwell and a confused Michael join them outside. They both rush to Amara’s side and Maxwell exclaims, ‘Fuck, Amara, this is so bad. How are you feeling?’

Amara nods. ‘Dumbfounded. Can’t believe they’re making me relive this fucking moment and making it seem like I was enjoying it.’

Michael cuts in and hugs Amara. ‘I’m so sorry, hun, this is terrible. Did he—‘

Amara cuts him off. ‘This guy—Tariq—came to my room pretending it was his, and acted like I was trying to seduce him. I, um…’

Drake smiles sadly, remembering this infuriating yet badass moment. ‘She incapacitated him, like a boss. Tackled him and twisted his arm until he ran away like a pathetic bastard.’

Michael snorts. ‘That’s my girl. Did he hurt you?’

Amara shakes her head. ‘No, he didn’t have time. As you could see in the—‘ she sighs ‘pic...he did grab me, but right after that, he was on the ground.’

Michael takes a deep breath. ‘Shit. Did you report him? This is assault, Amara, you need to—‘

Amara cuts him off. ‘No, I probably should have, but to be honest, I would have been buried by the royal police. Tariq is a noble, and as I’m starting to realize, all security is pretty much corrupt these days…’

Drake’s eyes wander off. She’s right. He had trusted Bastien and the other members of the Royal Guard, but now it was clear that they only saw what they wanted to see. ‘You could still report him to the actual police, right?’

Amara shrugs. ‘Honestly? I probably could, but at this point it would look like I’m trying to bury this. Plus, I can’t shake the feeling that Tariq was actually telling the truth.’

Drake raises an eyebrow. ‘What do you mean?’

She smiles weakly, and takes a seat on the foot of a column. The three men sit on the ground by her, Michael doing so carefully so as not to wrinkle Max’s tux. Amara continues. ‘It’s clear it was a setup, obviously. Like, the camera was ready to shoot the exact moment when it looked like I was consenting. I was set up, there’s no doubt about that.’ She pauses. ‘But maybe Tariq was set up too.’

Maxwell perks up. ‘You mean he was really told this was his room?’

She nods. ‘Yeah. He was so adamant that I was waiting for him in his room, at the time I was just annoyed and threatened by his insistence, but now I wonder why he had to say that. I mean, if he was sent to me to seduce me and get some pictures out of it, no need to serve me the whole room spiel, right?’

Drake nods. ‘Right. You’re right. Plus, I remember that, when I came in, and he was on the ground, he kept insisting on it. Like, would not let it go.’

Amara nods. ‘Exactly. No, this is a whole thing. It was planned all along.’

‘Where is that guy now?’ Michael asks. ‘Can we talk to him?’

Amara shrugs. ‘What for? Everyone thinks I’m a slut, I’m no longer welcome here, it’s pretty clear, huh?’

Maxwell puts his hand on her arm. ‘Not at all. We all want you here, Little Blossom. Hana and Liv stayed behind to gather some info, but they’re both devastated for you, this is outrageous and we’ll get to the bottom of this. We need you, babe.’

She takes Max’s hand and squeezes it. ‘Thanks, Max, but I heard some of the comments from the crowd. I’m being slutshamed for having been almost assaulted. And, I guess, for being in my underwear in my own room.’

‘We need to talk to this guy and figure it out,’ Michael insists. ‘Does anyone have his number? His address? I can go.’

Drake shakes his head. ‘I can give you both of those things, but Tariq disappeared from court after the assault. He was never seen again.’

Michael snorts. ‘Well, if that isn’t irrefutable proof that something’s up…’

‘That’s true,’ Drake agrees. ‘I was just happy to be rid of that asshole at the time, but now I suppose we could use his perspective.’

Amara laughs nervously. ‘Guys, this is useless. Can’t you see that this is a game I can’t win? Someone—no, let me get this right—several people don’t want me here, and they’re making damn sure I’m no longer welcome. It’s clear that over here, justice is not served. So...maybe I should just give the people what they want.’

*****

Hana separates from the group of former contestants and approaches the newly engaged couple. She and Liv agreed to stay behind, since Amara was well tended to, so that they could keep their eyes and ears open. This whole thing was crazy, everyone who was close to Amara knew that those pictures were a setup.

And a cruel one at that. Hana had felt extremely violated when the picture of her with Caroline had surfaced, because it divulged a very private side of her life. However, in this picture, she was fully clothed, and depicted with the person she loved. Nothing scandalous about that, unless you’re a bigot.

Liv’s leak was a lot more personal, since it involved her sex life, and nudity of course, but at least, it was not her naked body that had been circulated to the whole court —although Hana did feel bad for that poor Ilya, whose penis was now known by all of Cordonia.

This time, whoever was leaking pictures —Madeleine probably, even though she couldn’t have been the one who physically projected the picture tonight, as she was dancing— was putting someone in full display. On top of being literal defamation, this whole thing was circulating almost naked pictures of Amara. Hana couldn’t let that pass.

This time, justice would have to be served.

‘Congratulations again, you two!’ She says politely to Liam and Madeleine, with a brief curtsy. ‘I wish you both a lifetime of happiness.’

‘Thank you, dear,’ Madeleine purrs. ‘Now, I do hope to see you on the engagement tour. I will need all the help I can get, and Lord knows you are good at a lot of boring things.’

Liam chuckles, embarrassed. ‘Madeleine,’ he protests, ‘this is a little rude! Hana has many talents, none of them are boring,’ he adds.

Madeleine rolls her eyes. ‘Of course. Force of habit. I’m not used to not being in competition mode. Hana, will you forgive me?’

Hana thinks back to the cup of warm coffee that landed on her lap not too long ago. She forces a smile. ‘No apologies necessary. I’ll be happy to help in any way I can. In the meantime, may I be so forward as to inviting the Prince for a dance? Madeleine, you and I both know that I was never any type of competition.’

Madeleine sighs. ‘By all means.’

Liam holds out his arm for Hana to take. The two glide effortlessly across the dancefloor. Hana is such a good dancer, she doesn’t need to think of her next move, and can concentrate on her much needed conversation with Liam. ‘Liam, what happened?’ She asks, maintaining a perfect smile.

Liam sighs discreetly. ‘I don’t know, but it’s not good, Hana. How is she?’

‘Not sure. The guys are out with her. I’m so glad Michael’s here, in the end, it was a blessing in disguise.’

Liam smiles. ‘I know. I’m glad too. Look, I’m sure you know this as well, but this picture with Tariq… it was a setup. Amara told me about it after it happened, and he tried to assault her.’

Hana nods. ‘I know. Someone was out there waiting to take a picture of them. It’s despicable.’

Liam nods. ‘I think…’ he pauses for a long time, visibly struggling to find his words. ‘I think there are too many coincidences. Right before my Decision, I had been telling my father that I want to give a duchy to Amara, to—‘ he pauses again. ‘You know, as a gesture. An apology. Um…’ he lets go of Hana’s hand, ever so briefly, to run it through his hair. He continues. ‘Father was appalled. He reluctantly agreed to talk about it some more after the Ball. And now, now this is completely soiling her reputation, which is perfect for Father. I hate to say this, Hana, but… I do think he was involved.’

Hana nods. ‘Liam, I’m sorry. You must be so disappointed… At the same time, he’s the King, and your father, you can’t exactly go around accusing him, right?’

Liam nods, a sad smile on his lips. ‘You’re right, I can’t. No one can, really, at least not without proof.’

Hana sighs. ‘So, what do we do?’

Liam shrugs. ‘I don’t think we have many options.’

She nods decidedly. ‘We have to find Tariq, and investigate.’

Liam smiles a bit more earnestly. ‘Exactly. And Hana?’

‘Yes?’

‘I hope I didn’t make a fucking huge mistake,’ he whispers as he looks to Madeleine.

*****

Amara is still sitting on that column, her head buried in her hands. Next to her, Maxwell and Michael are trying to get a hold of Tariq but she feels like it’s in vain. Even if they track him down, and he confesses or whatever, so what? What is it gonna change?

And, even if the picture they projected is a lie, a painful reminder of the time she was almost assaulted, well, the message behind it is true, isn’t it?

She is sleeping with the Prince’s friend. She did fall in love with him, and that night, she did disrobe and say ‘come in’ to Tariq because she thought he was Drake.

Drake’s arms are around her, he’s soothing her gently. She’s so grateful for this man, for his presence, his strength, his compassion… But she’s tired of needing him to comfort her.

Tired of being meek, of being fragile. Now that her old wounds are closing up a bit, now that things are pretty much patched up with Michael, life has to throw another pile of shit at her, and yet again, she needs her friends to run out of the Palace to follow her teary-ass self.

That’s not the person she wants to be. Enough. Not again.

She lifts up her head and looks at Drake. ‘Babe?’ He asks hesitantly.

She smiles at him. ‘Walker, let’s get the fuck out of here.’

*****

Taglist:

@drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @jovialyouthmusic @andy-loves-corgis @mariahschoices @drakesensworld @thequeenofcronuts @notoriouscs @drakewalkerisreal @nikkis1983 @simsvetements @alesana45 @iplaydrake @emceesynonymroll @lily1999love @drakewalkerwhipped @drakxwalker @drakewalkerrosenberg @drakeswalkers @drakelover78 @silviasutton1989 @dcbbw @texaskitten30 @furiousherringoperatortoad @hollygirl1269 @sirbeepsalot @ladyangel70 @thisperfectmemory @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @mrsmairstanley @addictedtodrakefanfic

Thank you for your encouragements, everyone! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

#that's not why i'm going #drake walker x amara suarez #dramara #drake walker x mc #trr fanfic #drake walker #trr drake #drake x mc #drake walker trr #drake x amara #amara suarez #the royal romance fanfic #the royal romance #trr choices #drake trr

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corruptedtxt · 6 years ago

Text

so i’m writing/creating my own btd murderer character. i’m still fleshing out his details and story, but i wrote an introduction for him and mc? if anyone wants to give it a read or whatever. i’ll post the link but also post it here

link also posting below here in case the link doesnt work or something it looks better in the doc bc of the fonts and shit but yknow

Happenstance ( mc pov )

Vzzt. Vzzt. Vzzt. Vzzt―.

Hearing the ever familiar whirring, eyelids gradually opened, staring blankly at the white wall of their dorm room. Judging from how lit the room was, it could be surmised that it was already morning. Releasing a puff of air, eyes returned to their shut state, burrowing further into the case that sheathed the pillow embraced within their arms. It was far too early to be awake… Vzzt. Vzzt. Vzzt. Vzzt―.

Having forgot about the continuous vibrations, a grunt was released, shifting in bed as hands blindly attempted to find the source beneath the mass of sheets. Why was the phone unable to just stay in one place throughout the night? Vzzt. Vzzt. Vzzt. Vzzt―.

Annoyance further pressed, their body lurched upwards, haphazardly throwing the sheets back to expose the bed. No phone. Reaching towards their surplus of pillows, each one would be raised, searching for the damned phone. Still, no phone. What the hell?

Vzzt. Vzzt. Vzzt. Vzzt―.

Eyes slowly went towards the foot of the bed, arms sliding beneath the previously thrown sheets. After a moment of blindly swinging their arms around, the back of their hand finally hit a glass surface. Victorious, fingers clutched around the mobile device and yanked it free. How did this happen so frequently. Vibrating in their clutches, eyes stared at the now lit up screen, finger sliding across the screen to shut the alarm off. Once gone, only one thing remained: time. 9:45 AM.

❝ ―Fuck! I’m gonna be late! ❞

Flinging themselves out of bed, their usual morning routine would be cut in half. Throwing on a simple hoodie would have to do. After running a quick brush through their bed head and brushing their teeth, they returned to their work desk, tossing their school books in, all while attempting to stuff their feet inside their shoes. Laces be damned.

Slinging the book back over their shoulder, they briskly exited the dorm room. It was mid-winter, a brisk, cool wild hitting their face as they sped walked across campus. Did they look rather silly? Perhaps, but after being consistently late for this class twice this week already, it had been a personal goal to arrive on time―early, even. So much for that. College campuses were essentially set up to doom any and all late comers with how spacious they were.

Approaching the quad, a chilled hand reached within the pocket of their hoodie and pulled out their cell phone.

9:56 AM.

❝ Of course... ❞ An exasperated sigh pushed its way through their airway, eyes gazing towards the building which held the cafeteria. ...Well, if they were going to be late already, what was a few extra minutes? With how this day had started, a pick-me-up would surely be needed, and coffee was a tremendous ally. Changing course, they now had a new mission.

Pulling the door towards them, warm air melting the frigid layer that encompassed their skin. After observing that the length of the line wasn’t too horrid, they approached, standing in spot, waiting to approach the barista to place their order.

The wait hadn’t been too awful, and it was worth it, especially to feel the heat radiating off of the styrofoam cup, feeling the sensation seep into their fingers. It was almost to the point of burning them, but it was a comforting feeling. Swiftly turning around, their heart stopped momentarily, narrowly managing to dodge running into someone. That would have been bad―especially considering how scolding hot the coffee was. It could have seriously burnt this man. ❝ Shit, I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. Are you okay? ❞ The tone seemed less than sincere, if only because no damage had actually been done. Not to mention, they were on a bit of a time crunch. There was no more time to waste, otherwise they would be extra late.

The aforementioned male’s―actually, would it be more appropriate to call him a giant?―aloof countenance ebbed away any true concern, the corners of his mouth raising slightly into the tell-tale signs of a smile. Was he trying to make them feel better, or was it for himself? It was hard to read, for some reason.

❝ I’m fine, no harm done. You should be more careful, next time. ❞

While his words seemed a bit condescending, his tone was anything but that. It was almost as if he held more concern for them rather than his own self. Almost as if the coffee would have spilled on him, he would still be the one apologizing for some reason. While tall, he also appeared lanky in stature, maintaining a rather poor posture. Hair longer than most, it also curled around the ends, bangs parted in such a way to cover the left part of his face. His whole appearance gave off a rather ‘edgy’ vibe, but he pulled it off fairly well. His appearance didn’t seem to match his seemingly quiet and tender personality. Granted these were all assumptions they were making of a stranger…

Wait, shit. They had a class to get to.

❝ Right, I will be. I have a class to get to, though. I’m super late. Sorry, again. Uh―later. ❞

Well, as lame as an exit as that was, there was no time to dwell on it. Turning away, they exited the cafeteria, once more continuing their rushed pace towards the art building. Why did they need an art credit, anyway? Well, it wasn’t like they had really chosen a major yet, so dipping their toes in every field was what the adviser had suggested, but…

Art was something you were born good at, right? Drawing something as simple as a stick figure came out completely awful for them. Oh well, it was just for a semester. Maybe the teacher would have pity on them…

Judging by the disapproving glare they received upon entering late for the third time this week, they highly doubted it. Attempting to be as quiet as possible, they tiptoed around portfolios and book bags, getting to their table and taking a seat. With the semester just starting, class mainly consisted of simple vocabulary terms and slight history regarding class assignments and projects that would be accomplished through the semester.

Paying attention proved to be difficult, especially as the classroom door opened once more, and a familiar face walked through. It was that guy―coffee guy. He was taking this art class, too? Why had they never noticed him before? He was sort of hard to miss. After a brief verbal disapproval from the teacher, and having him take his time to arrive at his table and seat, the lecture continued. However, most of it was tuned out, staring at the mysterious, edgy tall boy. Various questions swarmed their mind: What was his reason for taking the class? Had he known it was him at the cafeteria? Why did he not say anything?

Apparently they had been staring too hard, because suddenly their eyes were locked together. Breath caught momentarily in their throat, they felt like a deer caught in headlights. He was staring so intensely...was he just returning the gaze? Had they been staring that hard? Seemingly amused, he smirked, the back of his hand pressing against his cheek, head facing back forward towards the board, zoning back into the lecture.

With their gaze broken, their regular breathing returned, but their heart rate was another story. It was beating rather hard against their chest...from being caught in the act of staring, maybe? Damn, what if they looked like a freak? Maybe it was pretty freaky, though…

❝ ...and so you will need a partner for this assignment. To keep things fun, I’ve put the number of students in this class inside of a hat. Pass it around, and draw a number. I’ll put the number pairs up here on the projector. ❞

What? How lame was that? Not only did partner and group projects suck, but being partnered with a stranger was so awkward...though, maybe it would be a chance to make a new friend. That was something they were lacking thus far in the ‘college experience’. Once the black top hat finally arrived, they reached in, fishing around for a scrap of paper. Pulling it out, they slowly unfolded it, revealing a hastily written number: 13.

Glancing up at the projector, their eyes scanned for the paired number: 8. So, whoever had the number eight was their partner, right? Noticing that the pairs were already beginning to meet up, their eyes scanned to room for any loners, assuming that by the process of elimination, that would be their partner. Once more, their eyes locked with his―coffee guy. Did...that mean that they were partners? Seriously? Why was life so against them today?

Slowly pushing them self out of the chair, they maneuvered around the room, until they were standing directly in front of the nameless classmate. Once more, their lungs seemed to constrict, making breathing a tad difficult. What were they so nervous for? There was no reason. He was just a normal guy―a classmate.

❝ You have number eight, I’m guessing? ❞

Fetching the paper that was resting on top of his closed notebook, he held it up between his pointer and middle finger, showcasing the number.

❝ Yeah, I do. ❞

❝ It’s a pretty bizarre coincidence, wouldn’t you say? ❞

They let out a nervous laugh, eyes diverting elsewhere. God, way to be even more of a loser in front of the guy. However, he didn’t seem to mind. Rather, a smile twitched on his lips, chuckling lightly as blue-grey eyes gazing up towards my face.

❝ A coincidence, or fate? ❞

#btd;#btd oc;#writings;#maybe this is Bad but im kinda here for it

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noneed4thistbh · 6 years ago

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Garbage Brain Dream

So, there’s this girl, who discovers her mother is getting horrifically abused by her father, excessively (almost cartoonishly) beating the absolute shit out of her, violently raping her, screaming and yelling, the whole nine yards. To the point where her mother frickin dies.

So then apparently I’m this girl’s daughter. And I’m watching this girl that was so horrified at her mother’s treatment, get sucked into the same relationship with her father, who gets her pretty well immediately pregnant, which she seems genuinely excited about?? And just sort of settles into this horrible, abusive, awful relationship made so much worse by the fact that it’s her dad. And I’m watching this happen with just a ‘what the hell are you doing mom jesus christ’ kind of attitude, so now my garbage brain is victim blaming people that go through mental state altering horrifically traumatic abuse, good going brain.

So I find myself and my fictional mother and her father husband at a hotel suddenly? And I’m walking around and I find mom in a room sitting on a bed, covered in fur from the waist down, desperately trying to shave it off before he comes back, cutting up her legs all over in the process, and my brain takes a moment to inform me, hey btw, ur mum’s a werewolf, ur not surprised, u always knew, so I just accept that COMPLETELY MINOR DETAIL THANKS, and move on without a word, like I walk in on my mom trying to shave her werewolf legs, on a bed, with just a regular ass razor, no shaving cream or water or anything, just hanging out completely desecrating her legs dry shaving fur, stare, like the vision zooms in and shows that, yes, her legs are absolutely covered in cuts, and then I walk out.

There’s like a crowdedish lobby and hallways, the kind of dream crowded where ‘there’s lots of people around’ but every time you look in any direction there’s almost no one there, they’re just around. And there was this interaction with I guess my grandpa, that I don’t remember much of, just that he knows I know what he’s done, and that I’m not about that, and that I’m apparently trying to stop him, and he holds out this knife, that’s like 4 inches long, and is almost completely knife. Like it’s knife on both sides, with like a finger width of space in the middle that’s safe to hold, and is so sharp it would slice off your whole finger if you slipped. And he’s like you wouldn’t kill me. With this. Because that’s apparently the only option. And I take it, somehow, without cutting my hand into ribbons, and I’m like, yea I will. And he is kind of surprised, like he wasn’t expecting that, he’s not sure what to say, and my brain apparently wasn’t sure either because it did that thing where the scene just changes.

So he’s gone, and I’m holding the knife, and I’m just like omg I’m gonna destroy my hand with this thing this is bullshit. And I go looking for someone else?? To do it for me? So I don’t have to use the suicide knife I guess? So I find this girl and I’m like, would you kill someone with this for me? And she’s like yea sure, doesn’t ask for a reason, just yea sure, and takes it, and starts looking around and I have to like, restrain her, she’s about to just stab anybody like you gave me the knife I have to use it right now and I’m like chill a fucking second I finds him jesus. I actually take the knife back for a minute to fucking deactivate her she’s so eager christ, and then I see him around a corner with some other people chatting and I give her the knife back and say that one in the pink shirt and she goes. And she comes back and I’m like you did it? And she’s like yea it’s done. The knife apparently doesn’t exist anymore, that thought is completely gone. And we go our separate ways.

Then I start thinking that people don’t normally just kill people and be fine with it, and like she might have been all hell yea I’ll kill a guy, but then get like traumatized by guilt or something, so I go looking for her with the intention of telling her listen, this whole you killing someone was all my fault, so if you end up needing therapy or something I’ll totally pay for it. And I finally find her, in this crowded ass hallway somewhere that isn’t the hotel anymore, and I don’t even have time to say there you are, or hey I wanted to talk to you, before she pulls me around the corner and I’m thinking oh good I thought she was avoiding me, but she wants to talk to, she’s probably gonna say-

And I don’t know what my brain was going to tell me I thought she was going to say, because she pulls me forward and leans in to kiss me, and literally the entire narrative up to this point goes out the window, I completely forget that I was looking for this girl in the first place because I had a strong suspicion she may be mentally unstable after spontaneously commiting murder for a stranger for no reason, but my useless gay brain was like !!! Cute girl wants to kiss me!! And turned it into a high school crush story. A teacher came in and shooed us back to class. My abused and traumatized werewolf mother was presumably still in her hotel room waiting for her father husband who was now not coming back, but all thought of that was gone as I sat in my seat and looked dreamily across the room.

The classroom was also set up in the absolute stupidest way possible. It was a semicircle of desks curving out from the wall into the middle of the room, with a row of desks also along the wall to complete it, with a couple of desks removed from one side, so that there was a space just out from the wall where you could walk in, and that was where the teacher stood, but there was a projector shining stuff on the wall. That had students sitting along it. So they were trying to crane their necks to see the stuff they had to write down while also trying to stay down out of the way. They looked so uncomfortable.

Some general classroom shenanigans that I don’t remember anything from went on for a few minutes before I was rudely awakened by my actual mom in real life, and I was sad for a minute like aw shoot I really wanted to try to talk to that girl again, before I remembered the rest of the dream, and I was like oh. Maybe not.

So yea tl;dr useless gay brain turns a dream about horrible domestic abuse spanning generations into high school crush pining when the probably mentally unstable girl I got to murder my abusive grandfather turned out to be hella cute and also into me.

#dream #weird dreams #gay disaster #murder #werewolf #stupid dream logic

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inyri · 7 years ago

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Equivalent Exchange (a SWTOR story): Chapter 29- What Happens on Nar Shaddaa

Equivalent Exchange by inyri

Fandom: Star Wars: The Old Republic Characters: Female Imperial Agent (Cipher Nine)/Theron Shan Rating: E (this chapter: M.) Summary: If one wishes to gain something, one must offer something of equal value. In spycraft, it’s easy. Applying it to a relationship is another matter entirely. F!Agent/Theron Shan. (Spoilers for Shadow of Revan and Knights of the Fallen Empire.)

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What Happens on Nar Shaddaa Odessen. 21 ATC.

“Sending proof of completion now.” The figure’s distorted voice crackles over the speaker as the projection stutters and flickers above her desk. “As you requested. However, you should be aware there was a complication.”

She sighs.

“Define complication.” Nine pulls up the images, flipping through them idly: the buildings of the ranch now smoldering ruins, the equipment they’d had to leave behind rendered unusable, the rakghoul test subjects-

She wrinkles her nose. They’d had to leave so quickly and there was nothing else to be done with them, of course, no room to bring them to Odessen and the experimental process leaving them unsuitable for return to Taris. Stars know they couldn’t just leave them wandering- they’d have had an epidemic on their hands in no time at all. But seeing them laid out one by one in the pens…

The poison had worked, clearly, a blaster shot to each meant to finish the job but probably unnecessary by the look of the wounds. Clean. Merciful.

Still, it seems a shame.

“Someone sniffing around the complex. Republic military, to judge by kit. He fired on us.” Arms folded, the figure shifts from one foot to the other.“It’s been handled, and he wasn’t looking for you- some rogue SIS agent, according to his datapad- but I’m going to have to insist on a surcharge. Combat and sentient disposal weren’t part of the initial agreement.”

She flips to the last image.

Shit. She should have known they weren’t going to leave Coruscant behind so easily as that. “Fine,” she says. “An additional fifty. Sixty if you send me the contents of that datapad.”

“Two hundred.”

“Oh, fuck off. One dead ‘pub? Seventy-five. Final offer.”

A pause; another voice in the background. And then- “All right. I’ll take the rest of the credits to the same account. Data incoming.”

“Very good,” she says, setting her own datapad down after a few more taps to its screen. “Credits sent. And you can drop the cloak-and-dagger shit, Renzi. I know that’s you.”

“Dunno what you’re talking about.”

She grins. “You said I. Xessa always says we.”

“She’s got you there, Ren. He thinks voice masking makes him sound exotic-” a second figure pops sideways into frame as the masking drops away, Xessa’s green-scaled face a contrast against her partner’s pale pink torso- “but mostly he couldn’t be bothered to put a shirt on. So, where in the Void have you been? We’d heard you were dead.”

“Rumors greatly exaggerated, et cetera.” Shrugging, she lets the unspoken question die. “Excellent job as always. Cleaner work’s not your usual, I know, but-”

“Work’s work nowadays, and with Zakuul’s eyes everywhere business is slow. A payday’s always welcome.” Renzi grins as Xessa straightens up beside him, one arm draped over his bare shoulders. “Though we-” a smirk for emphasis, there- “had hoped you might want to render payment in person. It’s been far too long.”

(A dangerous offer, with far too many pheromones in that room for anyone’s good. She’d fallen into that trap once or twice (or, okay, maybe it was closer to half a dozen times) with those two, back in the old days when one of her many jobs was keeping the Cartel from throwing in with the Republic; the happier she kept the Hutts and their lieutenants, the happier her Intelligence masters had been, and-

Well. It had been a particularly enjoyable trap. Besides, anyone who could sit with a Falleen on one side and a Zeltron on the other and manage to keep one’s knickers on may as well go join the Jedi- that much self-denial couldn’t possibly be healthy.)

“Not this time, I’m afraid. My cargo required urgent transport.” The keypad outside her quarters chimes. Someone’s looking for her; she ought to wrap this up. “Rain check, hm?”

“We’re working in the Core for the foreseeable future. You need us again, come find us and we’ll knock ten percent off the going rate.”

“Only ten?” The door’s chiming again. She pushes back from the desk. “If you’ll excuse me, I ought to get that.”

Xessa winks. “We’d consider fifteen. A pleasure as always, my dear.”

As the holocall disconnects, Nine stands, calling out toward the door. “Just a min-”

It slides open. Theron slips through, wiggling his fingers at her in response to her arched eyebrow. “Don’t get up. I can let myself in.”

“So it would appear. You could have rung in, you know.”

“I did. Twice. When you didn’t answer I assumed you were still in science wing.”

She shrugs. “I was on a call. Lokin’s in the middle of a treatment, so there’s no point in sitting around watching gamma rays- though you’ve just reminded me I should probably change my entry code.”

That he’d memorized her passcode oughtn’t to have been a surprise. She was careful with it, always, but over the last months they’d walked back to her room together for one too many late-night ‘meetings’- of course he’d learned the sequence. She’d expect no less from him; she’d have done the same herself, if they’d ever spent any time in his quarters.

“It took me a while- it’s a good code. Not your birthdate, not a predictable sequence.”

Old habits were hard to break. “It was my identification number at the Academy. I used it a dozen times a day, so it’s easy to remember. But I’d still appreciate a knock.”

“I thought I’d surprise you.” Theron, wearing a suitably contrite expression (she doesn’t believe it for a minute, but at least he’s halfway pretending to be sorry), holds up an insulated bag. “Figured I owe you dinner after the whole Coruscant clusterfuck. Possibly like a hundred dinners. And some other stuff. But if I’m interrupting-“

He looks down at her datapad, face-up on the table with the last transmitted image still open on the screen, and then back up, frowning.

“I didn’t know,” he says carefully, “that we were going against the Republic now.”

“We aren’t. The team I contracted to mop up on Alderaan ran into-” she gestures delicately with one finger- “this guy poking around. Anyone you know?”

Theron shakes his head. “No, but his gear looks military. Do we know what he was looking for?”

“Files are there. I haven’t had a chance to read them yet, but best guess? You.”

“No way.” Setting the bag on the table and hooking one foot around the chair in front of her, he pulls it toward him, sits down abruptly and reaches out for the datapad. “Coincidence. Must be.”

The transmission’s there, unopened, in one of her dozen Holonet accounts; Theron glances up at her again and, at her nod- he may as well see it, whatever it says- taps the screen. For the next minute he sits in silence, eyes flickering from line to line as he reads, and then he pushes the little screen away and rests his elbows on the projector table, head cupped in his hands.

“Well, fuck,” he says, voice muffled.

She waits.

“You were right. I should have gone to Rhu Caenus for supplies.”

Of course she was. Pallista was far too risky, far too many people who might have known him or might have been told to watch out for him- but there’s no point in gloating. Instead, she rolls her desk chair across the floor and sits down beside him, leans against his side until he turns his head toward her with a sigh.

“In any case,” she murmurs, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck, “it’s handled. The team that killed him doesn’t know who you are or that you were there. Loop closed. We’ll just have to be even more careful moving forward.”

“I should have known he’d do this. But I thought-” Theron closes his eyes. “I thought- I mean, my own father-”

He trails off.

“Sometimes I think you’ve got it easier, not knowing,” he mutters. “Not having to worry about your parents or-”

Her fingers dig in to his skin, harder than she means them to. “Don’t be stupid. Do you really think it’s easier?”

“I only meant that-”

“I don’t even know who they are. They could be anyone at all, or dead, and I’d never know it. I might have walked through the Kaas City market and passed a sister, a brother-” at that, a spike like lightning lances straight through her head and her hands fall to her sides; she grits her teeth to keep from crying out. Oh, she should know better than to think of such things by now, oh, oh-

When she catches her breath and her eyes refocus Theron’s shifted position, sitting up straight, holding her head close against his shoulder.

“And then there’s that, of course. A small side effect,” she says dryly, unembedding her fingernails from her palms with a shudder. “But ignorance is bliss, right?”

“I’m sorry.“ He presses his mouth to her temple, his hand in her hair. “I’m sorry. That looked like it hurt.”

“It does. But one learns to live with it. Or not. After all, it was my choice.” Forcing a smile, she nudges his hand away gently with a tilt of her head, straightening up and reaching across the table for the bag. “Enough philosophy. We should eat before the food gets cold.”

“I-” He stops. “Yeah. Yeah. I remember you mentioned these before, and since I’m probably not going to be able to go Coruscant again for… well, possibly ever- um. Ghedi was due to rotate out of embedment last week anyway, so I had him make a stop on his way to the spaceport. He flash-froze them and I just heated them up in the canteen, so I’m pretty sure they’re still-”

As Theron rambles, she raises the flap and pulls out a few takeaway containers and a chilled bottle of wine; the containers are warm, lids opaque with steam, and when she opens the first of the containers and inhales the smell’s familiar.

This time her smile is genuine. “You seriously had someone bring dumplings all the way back from Coruscant?”

“You said you liked them.”

Did she? She does like them, so he’s right, but when- oh! “When I sent your implant- Theron, that was five years ago. I can’t believe you remembered that.”

“It was the last time we talked before the Zakuul war started.” As she sets the second container in front of him, he gets up to fetch glasses from the cabinet. “I remembered.”

She takes a bite. They’ve suffered a little from the freezing, but Force knows she wouldn’t tell Theron that- he’s watching her intently when he sits back down, fills her wineglass but doesn’t eat, waiting for her reaction and he looks so ridiculously hopeful that they could have been stone-cold and stuffed with rocks and she’d still have eaten every last one. “Best thing I’ve eaten in years-” still actually true, frostburn and all- “and yours are getting cold. Here.”

Holding one up to his mouth as he starts to reply, she pops it between his parted lips.

“You know,” he says around a mouthful of dumpling, “we’ve never actually been out to dinner at an actual restaurant? The mess hall doesn’t count.”

“We’ve been more than a little busy. And Taris isn’t exactly known for haute cuisine.”

“True. But next time we’re back in civilization, I’m buying you dinner.”

She grins, leaning into him to steal a forkful of noodles. “If you’re attempting to bribe your way back into my good graces with food-”

“Is it working?”

“Maybe.” A pause. “Is there cake in there?”

“Is there cake? You wound me.” With a snort, Theron digs down to the bottom of the bag. “Of course there’s cake. Their cake is legendary.”

“Then I forgive you. For now.”

***

She lets him stay that night, too.

She missed him, even in the days it took to get from Alderaan back to Odessen in their separate ships, even with the distraction of Doctor Lokin’s fragile health keeping her in the medical bay almost constantly and having to arrange the cleaner team to cover up behind them (it had been sheer luck that Xessa’d answered her holo and that she and Ren’d been near enough to handle the job- no one from the Alliance was within range, and her first two options had been too far away or too busy to pick up the work.)

She tries to tell herself it’s habit, this thing they have- he’s a craving to be satisfied like any other but somehow still novel even after months together, her want and her affection for him enough to forgive him his recklessness, enough that she hasn’t so much as looked at anyone else in that time which is practically a record-

But when he stirs in his sleep in response to her nightmares, arm tightening around her to pull her nearer, murmuring her name against the nape of her neck, she curls into the warmth of his body and whispers back.

Some habits are worth keeping.

***

The next morning his ringing comm wakes them both a full hour before sunrise and she groans and covers her head with a pillow while he checks who’s calling.

Hang on, he signs, lifting the pillow for a moment. Need to take this.

She nods and pulls the blanket up, just in case- one wrong angle and his caller’s likely to get an eyeful- as he slides quickly into trousers and undershirt and ducks down the stairs to her desk.

“Do you know,” Theron says by way of opening, “what time it is?”

“You said call with the plans.” The answering voice is unfamiliar: female, heavily accented- native language almost certainly Huttese. Hm. She peeks out from beneath the pillow as the voice continues. “Got plans. So I’m calling.”

“And I appreciate it, I do-” he yawns- “but it could have waited an hour. Or five.”

She can’t see a thing from this angle. Ducking beneath the covers until she’s poking her head out at the foot of the bed (the sheets are a mess anyway, half-stripped, kicked off during the worst of her dreams), she tries again. Now she can see Theron, half-perched on her desk chair, and on the holo in front of him a yellow-skinned Twi’lek, a faded Black Sun tattoo on one bare shoulder, stands with her arms folded across her chest and a very smug expression on her face.

“Oops.”

Theron sighs. “I told you I was sorry those SIS guys came after you.”

“Not came after, found. Broke teeth,” the woman scowls. “Again. And stole my gun.”

“I’m paying you for the plans. You should be able to buy, like, ten guns.”

“Liked that one.”

He settles down into the chair with a thump. “Seriously, Teff’ith. I really am sorry.”

“Happens. They said I’m… um. ‘Known associate?’” She- Teff’ith, not a name Nine recognizes- sounds uncertain, mouth moving to make the shapes of an unfamiliar word. Her Basic’s awful. Not a former work colleague of Theron’s, she’d bet, though she’s got more than her fair share of old contacts with likely similar histories. “Should have given stupid medal back.”

Theron looks sidelong in her direction with a shrug and an I’ll tell you later signed behind his back. “But you got the plans, you said?”

“Yup. Not easy.” The Twi’lek holds up a data chip. “Lots of slicing. But got ‘em.”

“Your account’s still the same?” Theron glances down to his wrist for a moment, but his commpad’s still on the table beside the bed. “Hang on, I need to get my-”

Wrapped up in the blanket, Nine sits up and stretches across until she can reach it; catching his eye again, she mimes tossing it down to him and he nods, reaches up to pluck it out of the air as she lobs it underhanded in his direction. As it crosses the field of the holo’s lens Teff’ith blinks and takes a step backward, eyes darting from side to side suspiciously.

"Who’s there?” Her tone’s even brusquer than before. “Someone else spying, too?”

Letting his breath out with a huff, Theron shakes his head. “No one’s spying on you. You just happened to catch me in the middle of a meeting-” (the age-old excuse, of course, though he keeps a straight face when he says it)- “and the Commander’s here.”

“Let me talk to her.”

Clothing would probably be useful right about now. Last night’s clothes are all somewhere down in the sitting area, though, and the closet’s on the far side of the camera field; she looks around the room for ideas beyond the bedsheet but none spring immediately to mind.

“If it’s about the credits, Teff, I’m sending them right now.” Commpad slipped onto his wrist and his attention on its screen, he taps out a few dozen keystrokes before he returns his eyes to the holo. “You don’t need to-”

If looks could kill, Theron’d be a smoking heap on the floor by now. “You made me get arrested. By your mom."

“You never actually got-”

“It’s fine, Theron.” Both their heads snap in her direction but not the camera yet, thankfully, as she pulls the sheet tight around her chest and runs her other hand through her bed-mussed hair. Draping the blanket over her shoulders- it could pass as a shawl at this angle, right?- she gestures toward the holo. “I assume she’s a friend of yours?”

“That’s one way of putting it. I arrested her, she saved my life- the usual. I’ve been trying to keep her out of trouble ever since.”

Teff’ith snorts. “Saved you twice. You’re welcome.”

“It’s true,” he says, and turns the camera toward her at her nod. “Teff’ith, this is the Alliance Commander. Commander, Teff’ith. Formerly of Coruscant, currently residing on Nar Shaddaa. She managed to get us a copy of the unredacted Ternion building tenant list and schematics.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but before she can get a word out the Twi’lek looks her up and down, at her hair and her bare face and her blanket-wrapped body, and angles her head back toward Theron.

“Never thought you’d leave. Didn’t understand why you did,” Teff’ith grins. “Now I get it. She’s prettier than the wanted holos.”

“I’ll take that,” she says as Theron’s ears go scarlet, “as a compliment.”

***

“I’m sorry.” Half an hour later, even in the lift on the way up to the War Room, he’s still apologizing. “She can be… abrupt. But she’s a good kid.”

“She’s entertaining, I’ll give her that, and I’ll comp you back the credits from the discretionary fund. But she’s hardly a kid.” She scans over the schematics as they hit the top floor- they’re good. More than enough detail. They’ll just need to find their in, now. “She’s how old- late twenties?”

(Somehow they’ve all gotten old while they weren’t paying attention.)

“Something like that, yeah. I’m not sure she even knows. But we’ve known each other a long time. She was there when Ngani- when Master Zho-”

The hallway’s crowded when they step into it, bustling with soldiers and crew heading to their morning duties, and everyone’s looking at them. “Tell me later?”

Theron nods, voice lowered. “It’s a long story. Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

They’ve still got half a slice of cake to finish, after all, and she’s still got the extra toothbrush.

***

With the tenant list projected on one screen and a blueprint on the other, she and Lana and Theron sit staring at the list, crossing out names one by one.

“It seems to be mostly corporate,” Lana says, “as expected. Approaching any of the Republic-owned organizations is out of the question, I assume, so that rules out these five.”

“And these.” Theron crosses out two more. “Off the record, an SIS front and a weapon dev lab for SpecOps.”

She wrinkles her nose. They’re rapidly running out of options. “Wish I’d known that ten years ago. And these four are Cartel, and much as the Hutts want the blockade gone, I doubt they’ll approve of our methods.”

“The twenty-ninth floor looks to be vacant.”

“Right underneath the shield generator? Ten credits says it’s stuffed full of skytroopers.” Stretching, Theron reaches across the table for his caf cup. “What about Omnicorp? Twentieth floor?”

She puts a line through that one, too. “Two words: killer robots.”

“Never mind.” Theron squints, looking harder at the list. “And everything else is Imperial- wait. What about this one?” He traces a circle with one finger around the listing on the mezzanine level. “Umbrella Corporation. That’s got to be a joke.”

“Reminds me of an old friend, actually. Sia’hla. She used to talk about wanting to own a dance club.” Taking a sip of her own caf, she leans her elbows on the table as Lana, beside her, keeps scanning through company dossiers. “I told her she’d be better off running it like an umbrella company- hire girls on as independent contractors, keep the Hutts’ slimy mitts out of the whole business. She was still learning Basic at the time, though, and the phrase doesn’t quite translate into Huttese. She thought I meant she should call it-”

She stops. That’d be too much of a coincidence, surely.

“It is a cantina.” Lana raises one hand, sliding a dossier page on top of the projected list. “An odd choice in an industrial district, don’t you think?”

Theron settles into a chair, focused on the page. “Pretty genius, actually. Bunch of white-collar types working long hours and with money to burn- now they don’t even have to leave the building to drink and chase tail. Whoever owns it must rake in credits hand over fist.”

“Speaking from experience?” She grins as Theron slides down until he can reach her, extending one leg to kick at her ankle.

“Nah. That was Balkar’s thing. I was more the ‘you’ve been here for thirty hours, Shan, now go the fuck home before I have you evicted from your office’ type.”

Lana smirks. “I’d never have guessed.”

“Shut it, Beniko.” Theron flicks his tip of his stylus at her as she leans neatly out of the way, redirecting it back around with a wave of her hand; it hovers over his caf cup for a moment, then drops into the liquid with a splash. “I was drinking that.”

Ignoring him completely except for a soft, amused-sounding hum (Theron, meanwhile, fishes the little rubber piece out when he thinks neither of them is looking), Lana magnifies the line until they don’t have to squint to read it. No individual names or contact numbers, of course; it wasn’t going to be that easy. “It looks to be a clean tenancy as well- no proxy listed. No connection to the cartels at all, so far as I can see. It may be our best chance of getting into the building.”

“I’d prefer not to gatecrash.” She shifts her attention back to the blueprints, to the mezzanine level. “Assuming Ternion’s constructed like most Nar Shaddaa towers, our access to the power conduit will be somewhere back here-” one circle on the map, marking the location- “ well out of the public areas. Not impossible by any means, but we’ll be dodging repair ‘bots all the way up the conduit already. I’d rather not have to worry about security wandering in while I’m dangling a dozen floors up.”

“So, what? We ask nicely and hope whoever runs the place doesn’t mind us blowing the roof off the building?” Theron rubs his forehead.

“One never knows. We might get lucky. But no,” she says. “We just need to get access to the staff areas.” Pulling her datapad out of her jacket, she opens a new search window- the place must have a Holonet site, though whether it’ll give her the info the needs is another-

A-ha. Jackpot.

She flips the screen around, grinning.

"Hiring performers for immediate start.” Lana reads aloud as she points to the words. “Experience preferred. For interview, contact- Nine. No. Absolutely not. You’re the Commander of the entire Alliance. It’d be completely inappropriate for-”

“Shhhh.” She leans forward, lifting her finger off the screen and holding it against Lana’s mouth. “It’s a plan, which is more than we had five minutes ago. Unless you have a better idea.”

“I’m sure I could think of- there must be some other-” Lana closes her eyes, lips moving, silently counting to five. “Theron, tell me you don’t agree with this.”

He considers. “That depends. Do I get to watch?”

“I’ll need a handler.”

“I’m in. Although I probably should mention that I don’t, technically speaking, have clearance to land on Nar Shaddaa right now."

Lana sighs.

***

The last layer of concealer applied to her cheek, she sets it with powder and brushes her hair until it’s sleek and shining. A swipe of lipstick, a touch of rouge, a quick adjustment of her shirt- good enough. She hasn’t got the right supplies here to manage anything with the scar on her stomach, a problem she hadn’t considered initially; if this club wants the usual costume, it’ll be hard to hide even with makeup and airbrush.

(Most clubs don’t like girls with scars. Or tattoos. Spoils the aesthetic.)

Oh, well. One step at a time.

Emerging from the refresher back into her quarters, she grins at Lana and slips into the voice she’ll use for the call. “War wounds patched. How do I look?”

Cross-legged on the couch, Lana winces. “Force, that accent. You’ll shatter glass if you’re not careful.”

“When’s the last time you- hold on.” She clears her throat. “I know, it’s appalling. Everyone on Nar Shaddaa talks like they’ve gargled razor blades and snorted helium. But I’ve always used this cover identity for this sort of thing there, and in any case when’s the last time you saw a cantina dancer who sounded Imperial?”

“Korriban, actually. Once again, for the record, this is a terrible idea.”

“Objection noted. Theron, is the holo ready?”

He nods, done tinkering with it, gesturing toward the table as he crosses the room to settle down on the couch next to Lana. “Masked and relayed. Ready when you are.”

“All right.” Clearing her throat once again, she inhales, adjusting her posture and her voice. “Here we go.”

She stands before the camera, hands clasped, shoulders back, as the call goes through and a pretty Mirialan, throat bare in a low-cut dress, smiles politely from the other end of the connection and greets her in accented Basic. No cartel ties, no collared employees- by Hutt Space standards this place is getting weirder by the minute. “Thank you for calling Umbrella Corporation, voted Best in Sector two years in a row by the Nar Shaddaa Star. My name is Cira. How may I direct your call?”

(She’s had this conversation half a hundred times.

Breathe, girl. Just like driving a speeder.)

“Your ‘net site says you’re hiring dancers. I’m interested in auditioning, if the position’s still open.”

Cira nods, giving her an appraising look, then relaxes slightly. So far, so good. “We’re currently hiring for performers-” the correction’s subtle but emphatic; no dive bar, this. Interesting. “Any previous experience?”

“Of course.” She ticks them off, one by one, on her fingers. “Here at home I’ve been at Haven’s Blaze, Club Vertica and the Slippery Slope. I did a stint at the Dealer’s Den on Coruscant a few years ago, too.”

Across the room, Lana raises an eyebrow and Theron grins.

“An impressive résumé. If you’ll excuse me a moment, I just need to confirm with the owner but I expect she’ll want to have you in for a stage trial. What’s your name? ”

“Xari.”

All at once the polished smile drops from the girl’s face. “Yeah, right. Try again.”

If someone picked up that cover identity while she was in carbonite- no. Not possible. So what’s-

“I’m sorry,” she says, keeping her tone even, her body relaxed even as she starts planning for half a dozen contingencies. “That’s the only name I’ve got. Is there a problem?”

“She’s been gone a long time, so I never met Xari, but I’ve seen the holos. Everyone here has."

Okay, now this really is getting weird. She used the name for years, sure, in more than a few undercover ops- she never got caught out as Xari and after a little while she had enough reputation to open doors, which made the work easier. But it’s been six or seven years since she’s played the part and the only performance holos she knows of (a mistake, letting those get loose on the ‘net, but between wig and cosmetics and costume she’d barely know herself in them, let alone be recognized now) must be ten years old.

Why would she still be so well known there?

(There are holos? Theron mouths.

Lana, squinting, pulls out her datapad- then elbows Theron sharply, pointing down at the screen.)

"That bold a lie might pass down in the sublevels,” Cira continues, eyes darkening, “but you should do your research properly next time. You must know who owns this place. Did you really think you’d fool Sia’hla, of all people?”

She blinks.

Maybe Koth’s right after all. Maybe this whole thing really is destiny.

“Go and get her, then. Ask her-” she sighs, dropping the accent. This isn’t going to work, not the way she meant it to. But this might be even better. “Ask her if she remembers what happened with Belan.”

The girl scowls, pushing back from the desk. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

“It will to her.”

As she disappears from view, Nine rolls her shoulders and cracks her knuckles and Theron and Lana both stare at her, their faces twin masks of worry. Disconnect? Theron signs.

She shakes her head. Not yet.

After a minute she can hear footsteps, two sets, approaching on the other end of the call. “I should have just hung up on her-” Cira’s voice, out of frame, terse and snappish in Huttese- “but she swears she’s-”

“I’ll deal with it, Cee. Leave us.” The figure that stands behind the desk now isn’t the Mirialan girl; a slender Twi’lek woman in a high-necked black dress stares flatly into the holocam, eyes narrowed as she switches to Basic. “Look, schutta, I don’t know who you think you are or where you heard that man’s name, but-”

She stops, blinks, looks at her face again.

“It’s you. It’s… Kaliyo told me you died. Five years ago.”

(She oughtn’t have covered up her scar. It had been there the last time they’d seen each other, after Hunter and that last damned lucky shot- they’d joked about it, even. So much for my stage career.)

“I keep hearing that this week. But it’s me. I swear.”

"Prove it.” Lekku winding anxiously around each other at their tips- the markings are new, elaborate tattooed bands in a pattern Nine doesn’t know the meaning of- she presses her lips together tightly. “Tell me something only you would know.”

Theron and Lana both look entirely confused now, straight-backed in their seats, hair-trigger tense in a way that echoes in her own nerves: an op poised on a razor’s edge, ready to turn good or bad in the span of a single moment. She nods, as much to them as to the holocam.

“You shot him. You shot him because I made him stop. Do you remember?”

One hand flies up to her throat, just for a second, and the projection shimmers as Sia’hla leans forward hard against the desk. "I- I remember. Where the fuck have you been?”

“That’s a story better told in person. But I need to ask you a favor.”

***

Up next: Dress Rehearsal, in which we meet Sia’hla (and “Xari”) properly, and Nine plans (much to Lana’s chagrin) for a show with quite an explosive encore…

Hey, everyone. Contrary to plans, I got exactly zero writing done over my holiday vacation (the perils of visiting family) and I’ve been working 50-hour weeks ever since. But unless I post otherwise here, you may always assume that a new chapter is coming- it’s just a matter of when I can steal time to write it!

#inyri writes #equivalent exchange #nine #cipher nine/theron shan #swtor fanfiction #imperial agent

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agentelmo · 7 years ago

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The X-Files MSR Analysis Series: Season 1 Episode 4

“Conduit”

Previous episode analysis - 1x03 Squeeze.

This episode has some interesting developments for MSR, as it’s the first episode to delve into the Samantha Mulder backstory.

Not so much around what happened to Samantha, but what effect her disappearance had on Mulder and how that event has irrevocably altered who he is, and the course of his life. The bulk of the MSR here is Scully watching over Mulder, and noticing his changes in behaviour; seeing for the first time how damaged Mulder truly is.

The opening of this episode always intrigued me because it grounds the X-Files in the rules and procedures of the FBI that subsequent seasons often gloss over. Mulder submits a “302″ (a request to open a case file), as well as cover for travel expenses and there’s even a brief mention of Mulder’s ASAC (Assistant Special Agent in Charge) - who is Mulder’s current ASAC? I don’t think we ever meet him/her.

It’s kind of strange how in season 1 there is a strong sense of authority looming over the X-Files, like an axe waiting to drop, whereas later seasons you really do get the feeling they’ve just been left to their own devices, and that the only person they really answer to is Skinner - who for the most part, is pretty lenient with them.

The scene here with Blevins is good for observing the subtle shift that is occurring in Scully, away from loyalty to the FBI and the orders of her superiors, and towards loyalty to Mulder. Blevins tries to find out what Scully knows of Mulder’s sister and she refuses to betray Mulder’s confidence - but then Blevins shows her that Mulder opened the X-File on his sister’s disappearance himself, so she feels a bit more at liberty to share what she knows. Still, I like that she has no qualms with resisting a superior if it means remaining loyal to her partner.

Then Blevins tries to use Scully to undermine Mulder, and she sees straight through that shit.

Scully is so great in this scene - we all need a BFF like Scully. Being the utterly loyal BAMF that she is, without knowing Mulder’s reasoning, without any knowledge of the case, she puts herself out there to get the case opened simply because she trusts Mulder’s judgement.

She has faith in him that whatever has prompted him to submit this 302, there is a good reason for it - despite what others think - she doesn’t believe he’s a madman or a fool, and she’s willing to challenge her superior based on her faith in him.

Look at that, I can find MSR in any scene. Can’t quite decide if that’s a talent or a curse.

Now it’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for. Don’t deny it.

Mulder, Mulder, Mulder... first, what colour is that shirt you’re wearing? Did you put a yellow sock in with your whites?

Second, GOOD LORD MAN. He definitely gets a thrill out of flirting with her, because he’s pretty good at invading her personal space in surprisingly intimate ways - she’d have felt his breath on her face; that’s incredibly intimate. What was he thinking? Honestly, he probably wasn’t - I still genuinely believe he’s not aware of what he’s doing. He probably doesn’t even think of it as flirting.

Poor Scully - see her sharp intake of breath? I know, I know, she’s exasperated with him but c’mon... if you had this guy come at you like that wouldn’t you have a little moment? She even seems to take a split-second to consider this as she eyes his lips briefly.

What? Don’t look at me like that. When you make gifs, you inevitably end up seeing scenes frame by frame... you can’t help but notice these things!

The fact she never challenges this behaviour is just more evidence that she is attracted to him, because Scully has more self-respect than to let a colleague get up in her space if she doesn’t want it. Scully lets him get away with things like this repeatedly because 1. she’s comfortable with him - she trusts him and 2. she is professional enough to not let it interfere with their relationship or their work. But fuck me, Mulder makes it hard for her.

Scully then lets Mulder play teacher with his projector. Nawww, I miss overhead projectors. They phased out using them in X-Files episodes eventually too, but watching Mulder give Scully a little presentation always makes my heart do a thing.

He loves having someone to share this with, someone who is not just a skilled professional - a highly qualified scientist and doctor - but someone who looks at his work and applies their expertise faithfully. She takes him and what he does seriously, her challenging him is proof of that.

Honestly, I think he enjoys the challenge of proving the credibility of his theories under Scully’s scrutiny. That way, this back and fourth that occurs between them serves the very useful purpose of grounding Mulder and also challenges him to work for his theory rather than just believe anything and everything willy nilly - which we know he would definitely do without someone to watch over him. He enjoys it, but no doubt, it frustrates the fuck out of him sometimes too.

Although surprisingly, he seems quite chill about it today.

Soooo... slightly veering away from MSR for a moment...

Welcome back to Mulder’s Kitchen, people!

An interesting observation I made in this episode was that the apparent UFO sighting Mulder shows Scully on the projector from Lake Okobogee in 1967, looks awfully similar to a UFO we will see later in the series.

UFO From Lake Okobogee.

UFO from Fight the Future.

UFO from season 8′s This is Not Happening.

What are the chances that these are all in fact, the same UFO?

I always thought the FTF and This is Not Happening UFO were one in the same; that seems clear despite it seeming much bigger in FTF, but let’s just put that down to the SFX budget. The possibility that the FTF UFO was previously involved in abductions in the 60′s is an interesting idea, and nicely ties the events of this episode into the greater mythology. The mythology is always fun. I’m one of those rare unicorns that actually enjoys the mythology more than the stand alone episodes.

I know, I know... hey, hands off the unfollow button!

Mulder and Scully: Getting to the front door at the same time since 1993.

Also, Scully low key checking Mulder out. As you do.

Once you’ve seen it, you just can’t unsee it.

The dynamics of the next scene are really interesting, and quite heartbreaking when you think of all the loss in the room. Darlene Morris desperate for the return of her daughter Ruby, and Mulder, desperate to learn something that might lead to answers about what happened to Samantha.

Mulder is clearly very vulnerable walking into this house, the second he sees the Morris family photos, he’s transported to a time and a place that is long lost to him - and Scully sees his pain.

In that moment he is no longer the Oxford-educated psychologist, criminal profiler, Special Agent of the FBI, Fox Mulder - he’s the lonely 12 year-old boy Fox Mulder. Longing for connection to not just his missing sister, but to the life that was robbed from him when she was taken away. The photos of a once happy family, triggering in him recollections of his own loss.

Recall that in the pilot, Mulder tells Scully that after Samantha’s abduction his family fell apart - nobody talked about what happened, so he never had the chance to come to terms with it.

We know later in the series that his parents divorce in the wake of what happened to Samantha, so effectively, his whole world was destroyed. Imagine what that must be like for a 12 year-old child - the safety and security of home and family snuffed out in a single night then never addressed. Hey kid, your life is now a hollow shadow of what it once was - deal with it. He was just a boy with no capacity to deal with the enormity of what he had experienced, left to deal with the shattered pieces of his entire world - alone.

It may sound melodramatic, but I deal with this kind of childhood trauma all the time in my work, and the scars that are left can run very deep from far less traumatic experiences than Mulders. It’s actually miraculous in some ways, that Fox Mulder became a functioning, highly-educated, and productive member of society.

But he didn’t get off lightly, the consequence of his unresolved trauma is that these scars run so deep for him they are the greatest driving force in his life 20-odd years after the fact. And tragically, we know they will continue to drive him for the next 20+ years into the future.

Well, this is cheery, isn’t it? I could really brighten everyone’s day and tell you about my thoughts on what losing William did to compound Mulder’s trauma around the loss of love and family... but I’ll spare you that particular trauma.

We can see during the conversation with Darlene, that Mulder is still out of sorts - Scully is doing most of the talking. They’re talking about the night her daughter Ruby was abducted from Lake Okobogee, then Darlene drops this on Mulder and he’s like a deer caught in headlights.

Scully is again observing this change in Mulder and she’s worried for him; she’s never seen him like this before.

Also, can I just say quickly before we move on - that this kid is creepy AF.

Scully continues to pick up on Mulder’s strange behaviour.

Scully does try to approach this with him in an indirect way, letting him know gently she’s noticed his behaviour - but he brushes it off with his characteristic deflective humour. Scully will have to be a bit more direct to get through to him on this one.

Oh, quick intermission.

ZOMG HE TOUCHED HER BACK AGAIN! Yep, the small-of-the-back-touching love affair continues. This episode: Mulder goes in for the double-hander.

This next bit makes me chuckle, because these NSA goons are looking for Mulder, so why did they break into Scully’s hotel room, and not Mulder’s?

Were the rumours of their sleeping together going around the bureau this early in the game? Maybe they thought they’d be clever and break into her room and catch him?

We wish it were true, NSA goons... we really wish it were true.

But it’s all good, eventually they find our boy, Fox.

Hoo boy.

We interrupt this programme to bring you an important message: Mulder’s bed head is hot as fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu--

Scully makes the mistake of ratting out creepy kid Kevin to the NSA and Mulder is frustrated at her actions. The kid and his mother get hauled off in a somewhat uncomfortable scene, and Mulder looks around the Morris’ house, spotting from the window that their caravan has a scorched roof, which aligns with Darlene’s story of what happened on the night that Ruby disappeared. He rushes off to investigate, while Scully stays at the window, watching him.

All throughout this episode Scully has been watching Mulder. She knows what’s going on for him, but doesn’t know how to approach it.

Upon discovering that creepy kid has somehow acquired to ability to write Bach in binary (a story thread that never gets resolved, by the way), Mulder rushes to meet Darlene Morris to apologise to her for the NSA involvement, but she’s not interested and is hostile towards him now. She tells him to keep away from her and her son and Scully uncomfortably notices, yet again, that Mulder is being made more and more emotionally vulnerable by this case.

Also, I gotta say it again... this creepy kid, man. I feel like he would stab me up in my sleep.

Please stop looking at me like that, creepy kid.

At this point, Mulder has become fixated on Kevin and Ruby, and believes creepy kid is a “conduit” (eeeeeeyyyy the episode title!) and that he is linked to who/what abducted Ruby. Basically, Mulder thinks aliens are using Kevin as some kind of human TV aerial.

The aliens wanted to catch season 8 of Game of Thrones but arrived on Earth in 1967 instead of 2018, so they’re pissed they’re having to wait 51 years for it to air and are amusing themselves by abducting people for their own entertainment purposes.

How’s that for a theory, Mulder?

Ok enough kidding around, serious talk now... serious stuff.

Scully tries again to talk to Mulder about what is going on for him. She knows what is driving him, and why he is obsessed with finding Ruby - but she leaves it unspoken. It’s fairly clear that what she doesn’t say is that Mulder is seeing Samantha in Ruby.

Scully tries to tell Mulder that there is no evidence of an abduction; tries to break him away from his fixation on saving her, but he is a man possessed.

Does he obsess with saving Ruby to absolve himself of the guilt of not being able to save Samantha? To get information from Ruby that might shed light on what happened to his sister? Maybe both. But he’s determined to see it through, and Scully, concerned with his welfare, has no choice but to see it through with him.

I think this moment more than any other solidifies in Scully’s mind that Mulder isn’t just driven by wanting to know what happened to his sister; he’s in fact still deeply traumatised by her disappearance.

What Blevins suggested about Mulder’s personal agenda clouding his judgement is undeniable at this point, but she doesn’t use this knowledge against him - doesn’t write it in her report. She can see and hear the pain he’s dealing with - this desperation to save Ruby is a clear window into his desperation to save his sister.

She doesn’t have the heart to stop him after seeing that. She feels for him.

Things eventually come to a head, as Mulder refuses to give up believing Ruby can be saved despite the fact they have a suspect with a motive for murder in custody. Scully believes he’s so clouded that he can’t see what he’s doing - she can’t beat around the bush anymore, she has to come out and say it directly.

What Scully comes to realise over the course of this episode, is that Mulder is a very damaged man. The guilt of not being able to save Samantha seemingly drives Mulder to project his sister onto Ruby, and in fact, various vulnerable women throughout the series. It’s a classic example of transference, to act out a trauma in similar scenarios with similar people in an attempt to resolve the distress it triggers. But Mulder never seems to fully resolve this - as recently as the events of I Want to Believe Mulder is still looking for is sister in the faces of vulnerable, victimised women.

Compare the conversation Mulder and Scully have in I Want to Believe with the conversation above from Conduit.

Even more recently, you also have Sveta in season 10′s My Struggle I, he is still compelled to save hapless women no matter the personal cost to himself.

In fact, I’m certain the reason Scully says to Mulder “you know what you’re doing” in My Struggle I isn’t because of some childish jealousy, it’s because she knows what he’s like - she’s been going over this with him for enough years to know, and that’s why she tells him he knows what he’s doing too, because he’s done it enough times to know why he behaves this way without needing her to tell him.

Okay, quick, run! Back to 1993.

What we’re seeing here in Conduit, is Scully experience this traumatised side of Mulder for the first time. Kinda makes you feel sorry for Conduit-Scully, doesn’t it? She’s got a looooooooong hard road ahead of her with this shit.

So, moving on. Mulder and Scully go looking for Darlene and creepy kid Kevin at Lake Okobogee, and on the drive there, Mulder admits - in a uniquely Mulderesque way - that she is right about him.

Mulderesque meaning as avoidant and indirect as possible.

I found this story of Mulder’s childhood ritual incredibly sad, because it’s as I said before - as a 12 year-old boy, he was not emotionally equipped to deal with the aftermath of what happened, and so his 12 year-old mind dealt with it in the only way it could - through this child-like gesture of closing his eyes and believing that if he wished for it hard enough, that she would be there when he opened them again. Hasn’t every kid done that; closed their eyes and wished?

Telling Scully this story is another defining point in their journey together. Mulder is a closed book to most people around him, and the long pauses tell me he even finds it difficult to tell Scully this. He’s not used to letting people get close - he fears it, because everyone he has loved has left him. Especially if you consider that at this point, he has also not long ago lost Diana too.

Gag.

But little by little, Scully is breaking down the walls. Even though she’s been challenging him every step of the way on this case, the one time she was right on the money was the most important time of all. She’s right, he is chasing his sister and he knows it. He knows what he’s doing; but can’t help himself.

Telling Scully this story is his way of acknowledging that.

Mulder and Scully finally arrive at the lake and find Darlene, creepy kid and Ruby. It first appears like Ruby was dumped by a biker gang, as she turns up unconscious in the forest just as the gang ride off.

SUPER FOX TO THE RESCUE!

Am I the only one who can’t help but think of Mulder as a dad every time he’s in a scene with a kid, now? In this bit with the biker gang, I couldn’t help but think of how awesome a dad he would have been. Then I feel sad because William.

Honestly, the thing that pains me most about the X-Files these days isn’t that Mulder and Scully split, it’s that Mulder and Scully never got to be parents, because they would have been awesome at it.

I think I need a little cry now.

So in the end, Mulder was right - Ruby was alive.

Later in the hospital, Mulder notes that Ruby has a chemical imbalance which suggests she had experienced prolonged weightlessness. Which means unless she was hanging out with the Biker Mice from Mars, she probably wasn’t with the bikers - that she actually was abducted. But it is strange when you consider the greater mythology, which posits that all “alien” abductions are actually abductions by the government using ARVs to carry out their alien-human hybrid project.

So who abducted Ruby and took her into friggin’ space then?! Some other bored aliens I guess?? The Bounty Hunters on a joyride?

Mulder desperately tries to get Ruby to talk about what happened to her, but she refuses.

Darlene arrives to put the kibosh on any further abduction-talk, and Mulder is bereft. He needs to know what happened to Ruby - he’s trying to make sense of what happened to his sister through Ruby, and he can’t make sense of it. He’s once again, left open - highly vulnerable, and Scully doesn’t know what to do to help him.

Neeee nawww it’s the grammar police! I think you mean ‘important to whom’, Darlene.

Scully is again left to observe Mulder’s pain, and is powerless to do anything to ease it, the door is being shut in his face and there’s nothing either of them can do about it.

The hand she physically places on his shoulder here I always felt was a symbolic gesture of their friendship at this point - she’s protecting him, keeping him safe. Mulder no doubt feels very alone at this moment, but she’s been there for him, watching over him, supporting him through this whole thing; without her being there to protect him from himself, I suspect Mulder would have done something he would have later regretted.

To see it properly, I needed to make a full 24fps gif, but watch as she grasps his shoulder - the way she soundlessly mouths Mulder’s name and lets out a breath she was holding in. She can see what will happen next if she doesn’t stop him. It’s all Scully can do for him now.

Gotta, say, Gillian Anderson is phenomenal, isn’t she? Just that tiny acting choice made such a difference to the power of this moment - the awareness she gives Scully of how vulnerable Mulder is and how he’s not thinking straight - she has to think for him - to protect him. I don’t often talk about the acting, I analyse this like they are real people - because that’s what I do - but I just had to mention this because it’s so subtle yet so affecting. Bravo Gillian.

Now, for the final scenes of the episode. This is where I am going to get highly interpretive, so I fully expect some of you to not share my views on this.

I believe the final scenes of this episode reflect the balance of influences in Mulder’s life. The trauma of his sister’s abduction and Scully.

I don’t want to make this too much about Scully, even though this is an MSR analysis and I have a talent for making everything about MSR ha. But I do think there is a dichotomy at play here.

The past - Samantha; and the future - Scully. Hurt and healing.

Scully wants to help Mulder, she doesn’t see him as just a work colleague anymore. She wants to help him if she can. She listens to his regression hypnosis tapes; trying to understand – she’s come to care about him a great deal at this point.

She writes no report, doesn’t share any of what happened with Blevins, her focus is on this damaged man. Beyond superficial attraction and professional loyalty she wants to try to be there for him - as a friend.

Then it’s our first time to see Fox Mulder break down. He’s sitting in a church, staring at a childhood photograph. It’s significant, I think, that the photo is of both of them, not just Samantha. He’s mourning for not just her, but for the boy he once was, for the promise of a life he once had.

It always intrigued me that Mulder found himself sitting in a church, since we know from various bits of dialogue throughout the series that Mulder is almost certainly an atheist. He isn’t aware of Scully’s Catholicism at this point, so his being there is ultimately an unexplained anomaly.

So stepping away from the characters again - twice in one analysis! - I wonder if it’s a symbolic choice by Chris Carter. Because Scully is wearing a cross from the pilot, so her faith was always a planned part of her character.

My interpretation, then?

It’s the dichotomy of influences in his life I mentioned earlier being visually represented. He’s alone in his grief, holding the symbolic representation of his trauma - a photograph of his lost childhood. But there is always that comforting presence, he always has Scully to look out for him, even in his darkest moments - and as the seasons progress, we see this bear out. I like to think of Mulder being in the church as a symbol of Scully watching over him, just as she has watched over him throughout this episode.

Well shit, that was a long one. The longest yet I think? I seriously hope this is not going to be a continuing trend! I think there are some episodes, especially in the early seasons where things are happening for the first time which means it will take me a bit more work to get into the characters heads. Also, this episode had a lot of heavy Mulder-centric stuff, but I think it ties into his relationship with Scully in many ways, so I hope I was able to effectively represent that.

Next up. 1x05 - Jersey Devil.

#the x files #xfiles #txf #txf gifs #favorite msr moments #msr #msr analysis #x files msr analysis series #mulder and scully #agent mulder #agent scully #fox mulder #dana scully #david duchovny #gillian anderson #chris carter #samantha mulder #conduit #txf 1x04

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meditatemoremedicateless · 7 years ago

Text

Something Wicked: Moonlight (Part II)

Art by @flowersonpaper

Fandom: Life is Strange

Pairings: Christward, Amberchrist, Victaylor

Major Tags: Fluff, magical girl, witch, magic, polyamory

Words: ~ 10,000 (oops)

Summary: Taylor pulls off a heist in Nathan's room. While she's busy uncovering the secrets of his phone, a monster follows her to the outskirts of the town. Taylor has her second showdown with a shade. A new witch reveals themself.

Read the full story on Ao3

Rachel and Taylor were severely tardy and giggly by the time they entered the gym. Luckily, that meant that they'd missed stretches, and people had already arranged themselves around the small badminton nets from last week. This time though, people were paired up to hit volley balls back and forth. There was one empty mini-court, though, and Dana and Juliet were standing against the wall next to it, Dana with a volley ball tucked under her arm.

Taylor unlinked her fingers from Rachel's, nodding her head over to Dana and Juliet. As they approached, Juliet took notice, smiling and waving. Which was . . . unusual.

"Sup?" Rachel asked once they made it over.

Dana shrugged. "I guess we're all tardy, but whatever. You're lucky we managed to talk you down from a truant, though."

Taylor smiled, clasping her hands in fake prayer. "Thank you, almighty Dana."

Dana looked the both up them up and down quickly, smirking. "Well, you two look happy."

Juliet butted in suddenly to ask, "So are you guys dating?" She stood up from against the wall, swishing a little. Taylor wasn't sure she had ever seen her so animated.

Rachel smiled nervously, and she and Taylor both made the nervous tic to fix their hair. "We're . . ." Rachel started, then immediately faltered. She raised her hand up towards Taylor, adding an, "Um . . ." but that just faltered as well.

"Are we dating? We never talked about it."

Taylor wasn't exactly sure whether or not kissing meant they were dating, but rule of thumb said no. But they had gone on a date? "We're just . . ." but she quickly gave up trying to finish that sentence either.

Dana looked back and forth between the two of them as awkwardness beset all of them. Then she said, "Welllll, we'll come back to that one. Why don't we just-"

WHAM!

A volleyball slammed into the wall over their heads, rebounding just behind Juliet, who screamed for a second before realizing what happened. When they checked who it had come from, though, Zach waved from the other side of an adjacent court. Quickly approaching their little group, though, was Logan. Taylor immediately took a step back, and she wasn't the only one - only Dana didn't seem to flinch, instead taking a few steps over to pick up the ball.

He raised a hand now, greeting her with a, "Yo."

"Hey," Dana replied curtly, tossing the ball a little too high so Logan had to step back to catch it.

Once he'd caught it, he took another step towards the four of them, but Dana immediately pivoted towards Taylor. "Hey, so, want to play volleyball?"

"S-sure," she replied, taking a look over at Rachel before the two of them moved to the other side of the court.

Unfortunately, this brought their path a little too close to Logan, who muttered, "Bitch."

Rachel turned to glare, but Taylor couldn't even bring her eyes up. He was back in his court by the time they got set up, and Taylor had to look up.

On the other side of the court, Dana stood alone, Juliet sitting back against the wall, unable to play thanks to never changing. Dana lifted the ball to about stomach height, then looked over at Rachel and Taylor. "You ready?" she called.

"Literally never."

"Lay 'em on me, girl," Rachel called back, clasping her hands together.

Taylor snorted, knowing her wrists were probably going to be sore by the time class was over. Dana was a server for the girls' volleyball team. This was going to suck.

At least it was better than playing with those football assholes.

Taylor: hey vic.

Victoria: Hey T what's up?

Taylor: not much Taylor: just wondered if we could hit up nathan and smoke

Victoria: I've got my own if you just want to chill and do homework

Taylor: nah i kind of want to hang out with nathan. maybe we can do homework during lab tomorrow? i don't think it's gonna take us long to take a pic of the mountains

Victoria: Sure. Victoria: I'll hit up Nathan and we can hang out tonight

Taylor: cool

Taylor switched over to her new group text, Nancy Drew 1.2

Taylor: yo so i'm gonna try and get nathan's phone tonight.

Juliet: You sure? I mean, even if you get it, it's going to be locked you know. Juliet: He's not dumb.

Taylor: i think i've got that worked out, don't worry Taylor: or maybe do, who knows

Taylor's plan was, in fact, ludicrous. She was pretty sure she had mind controlled Logan somehow Thursday night when she got him to back off. At least, she had proven way more persuasive than she was before she had super powers, so that was close enough.

Dana: Good luck Dana: Text me if you need anything

Taylor: yeah Taylor: and thanks for helping me Taylor: i know i've been super shitty to both of you guys Taylor: but seriously thank you

Juliet: If you end up getting Nathan expelled for dealing roofies we can call it even?

Taylor: ha yeah Taylor: shit wow that's what might happen isn't it Taylor: that sucks

Juliet: It kind of already sucks, honestly.

Taylor: ha Taylor: well if i die or disappear you'll know exactly who did it Taylor: literally any member of the AB police department or Blackwell staff

Taylor's heart was already racing by the time she left her room that evening. The inevitability of her embarrassing failure when she tried to control Nathan only seemed clearer and clearer throughout the day until now she was actively blocking out her constant warnings to give up. Luckily, her body rarely seemed to communicate well with her head, and soon she found herself climbing the stairs up to the third floor of the dorms.

As she reached the first landing, the third-floor door opened and Samuel stepped through, dragging his cleaning supplies with him. The dormitories weren't very old but they were designed like shit, and accessibility changes had only started last week thanks to a local grant. As such, Samuel had to carry much of his supplies up and down the stairs every day. It was a damn uncomfortable thing to watch, as the cart was obviously not made to be carried, and yet he pulled it off several times a day, six days a week.

"Hey Samuel, do you need any help?"

As Taylor reached the top of the stairs, Samuel turned to look at her, the heavy steel door closing behind him with a loud ka-chung. "Why, I don't suppose so, Taylor, I'll manage. Do you need any help?"

See, now, this is why Taylor didn't usually talk to Samuel. She may not have the same visceral reaction as Victoria just because his voice made it sound like he was trying to tell a ghost story 24/7, but he rebounded everything you said in uncomfortable ways.

"Ah. Um, no, I don't think so. Just going to go hang out with some friends." She kept her arms close to her body, scratching to remind them to feel sensation.

Samuel nodded. "It's good to have friends," he replied. "They keep each other safe in dark times. At least tonight is bright."

"Uh . . . yeah." Taylor looked him in the eye, hoping she could get some peek into this guy's mind. Still, no voice appeared, so they just sat there in silence.

Without breaking eye contact at all, Samuel said, "I need to keep vacuuming now."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." Taylor walked around the cart so he could access the stairs, still clutching her own body.

Samuel pushed his cart closer to the edge, then got on the stairs so he could lift it. But before he did, he paused and said, "It's a beautiful night tonight. It might be nice to take a walk.

"Yeah," she replied. Once he lifted the cart, though, she just pushed through the door and headed for Nathan's room.

Smoking in Nathan's room was always, inevitably, a little uncomfortable. The bondage art on the walls was one thing - Taylor had accepted long ago that what was creepy for her was 'artistic' to some people - but it was really the wall of foreign slasher films that Taylor didn't like. There's no way you watch that many people get murdered in French and walk away intact. Taylor barely managed to keep her mind intact when Victoria thought it was bourgeois to say random idioms in French. Still, there was one use to the room that never wore out: no matter how much it smelled like pot, you'd never get busted if you were in Nathan's room.

Taylor really would have liked to be high for this. But for some reason, no matter how much she was smoking, she wasn't really feeling it right now.

Victoria and Nathan were chatting about this football season, which Nathan was compelled to care about and Victoria somehow, genuinely cared about. Like most conversations when the three of them were together, Taylor sat out of it, played on her phone, or just sort of looked around the room and pet soft objects.

"Hey, that reminds me," Nathan said, (Taylor had no idea what preceded that) "how did you get chosen as the number two for that photo contest? I didn't think that was how that worked."

Victoria grimaced. She and Nathan sat next to each other on the couch under the projector, alternating between trying to relax and hunched over smoking from their pipes.

"Well, I'm not sure, but I was probably on the table to begin with, and when Max didn't show, Mark just made an executive decision. Especially if we were the last two in deliberations, I don't think anyone would question it."

Honestly, Taylor had been trying not to question that very thing. As much as she wanted to believe that Victoria was the obvious second, there was no way Evan and Rachel were far behind. Even taking family influence into account, the Chases didn't have much of a leg up on the Harris family in terms of artistic renown or the Ambers in community goodwill. The only thing that made Victoria seem like a sure second, only behind Max, was Jefferson's preference - he adored Max, and Victoria had been kissing his ass since day one. No one would want to say that out loud, and it certainly wouldn't be Taylor.

Victoria blew out a thin stream of smoke like a sigh. Then she said, "Guess I can't compete with a pet project, huh?"

Nathan side-eyed her. "Pet project? What makes you say that?" His hands twitched as he talked. Not that that was unusual for Nathan, but it still caught Taylor's attention.

Victoria returned the glance, then rolled her eyes. "Oh, just, when you're in class with him you can tell. Lets her off the hook, gives her lots of praise, tells her about photography opportunities after class, lectures as if it's just for her. Well, her and Rachel. The two of them together are the worst."

"Oh. Huh." Nathan looked at the floor. He didn't even reply with some witty, derogatory comment. Then he looked up at Taylor and asked, "You went to the party Thursday with Rachel, right T? Like, she asked you out."

Taylor shrugged. Then, she realized that was a question with clear answers. "Oh, yeah, I guess. She asked me, but then she couldn't make it."

Nathan raised his eyebrows. "Yeah," he said, "that sounds like Rachel all right."

I need to put out a notice that no one is allowed to be mean to Rachel while we're dating or else I'll mind control them into the swimming pool.

Taylor drummed her fingers on her jeans, criss-crossed on the bed. "I mean, we still went out Sunday. She didn't just flake."

"Oh, okay," Nathan said, suddenly grinning. "And just why'd she bail on the party, then?"

Taylor gripped her jeans as well as she could as she became flustered. "She - she had to do a thing with her mom."

Nathan chuckled. "Oh, okay, sure."

Victoria swatted his shoulder and shot him a look somewhere between an eye-roll and a glare. "Just stop it, Nate."

He held his hands up in surrender. "Sure, sure. Look, I'm's glad Taylor's getting some ass as we all are." His eyes rolled up as if he were picturing something. "Kind of a lot of ass, actually."

Victoria flushed, but that was far enough that Taylor stopped feeling so flustered. "Shut. Up. Nathan," she growled. "I don't want to hear what you have to say about Rachel's ass. Or Rachel at all, actually."

"Fine, fine." He leaned back on the sofa, but he wouldn't get rid of his pleased smirk, and that was what was pissing Taylor off the most, honestly.

A few more minutes passed by while Victoria and Nathan talked and Taylor sulked, wondering if she was going to have to defend Rachel against all of her friends, sooner or later. The only people who were being happy for her were Dana and Juliet, unlike everyone else who basically just agreed to back off. She wondered if Rachel was having to do this same thing on her end, hound Chloe and Max about being mean for . . . well, Taylor had no idea what they'd choose to be mean behind her back for, but she knew she wouldn't want it said about her. Why wouldn't people just get that all of this bullshit high school drama was going to disappear the second they graduated, but Taylor's chances for love and companionship and all that stupid Disney bullshit were never going to stop being limited? What was the point in treating a nice girl badly?

Thoughts of Dana and Juliet began to pool in Taylor's mind, and she wanted to think about anything else.

Victoria spoke up. "I'll, uh, be right back," she said as she got up.

Taylor latched onto the distraction. "Where're you going?"

"Uhh, bathroom. You need to go?"

This is perfect. Although Taylor did kind of have to go.

Taylor shook her head, "Nah, I'm good."

"Okay."

Once Victoria was out of the room and definitely out of earshot, Taylor turned her attention to Nathan.

"Hey, Nate," she said, scooting forward on the bed, "I need a favor."

Nathan immediately looked irritated, but he held it back enough to ask, "Like what?"

Taylor took a quick breath to prepare herself for the practiced lie, what she had been banking every possibility of not outright trying to steal his phone on. "I want to buy something you don't normally sell. But I know Frank used to have it."

Nathan just quirked his eyebrows, waiting for her to finish the request.

"Oxycodone. I know Drew used to run it, and I need some."

Now he looked concerned. "Is this . . . about your mom?" he asked.

Taylor looked down, rubbing her arms like she did when she was anxious. And she was anxious, just not for the reasons that she wanted to look anxious. "I don't want to talk about it," she said. "I just need it quickly. Can you get it for me?"

He exhaled slowly as he thought about it, hesitating. Or maybe he just really was concerned about her mom, it wasn't that easy to tell. Taylor wasn't picking up anything from his mind, after all.

"Yeah, yeah, totally. How much do you need?"

Taylor licked her lips, working out the smoothest option for her plan. "Not a lot right now, but I'll probably need more."

He nodded. "Gotcha. I gotta tell you though, T, this stuff's not cheap."

"I know. But I'll pay."

He shrugged. "Alright, then. I'll set something up."

"Thank you."

She waited for a few seconds while they sat in awkward silence. When it became clear he wasn't going to get something set up right now, though, Taylor said, "Could you do it as soon as you can? I don't want to be pushy, I'd just prefer Victoria didn't know about this."

"Totally," he replied, waving his hand to dismiss the possibility. "I'll get it going tonight, you'll have your oxy in a few days. I won't be able to take a tab for something like this, though."

Taylor nodded . . . but that still wasn't enough. "Could you do it right now? I'm just really worried, is all."

Finally, Nathan seemed to catch on, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I . . . could. But I think I'll just do it after you two leave."

Taylor was frightened that she was going to fail. Luckily, it was easy enough to channel that into frustration. "Nathan - I know you deal, and I know you're buying from Frank. You don't have anything to hide from me - would you just do it? Please?"

They entered into a staring match, while Nathan's mouth hung slightly open in irritated disbelief. Still, Taylor was small and harmless and, hypothetically, a friend to Nathan, so she kept up the stare as long as she could.

And Nathan was the one who finally caved. He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine, whatever. Just don't fucking talk to anyone about how I do business, okay?"

Nathan grabbed the bottom of his couch and scooted forward, dragging the whole thing with him an inch. Then he turned around and reached over it, pulling something from the backside. When he turned back around, Taylor could not believe her luck - it was a cell phone, but not his regular one. She hadn't even thought about that. He opened it up and, with another discontent sigh, started typing a message.

God, I hope this works.

"Nathan, I need you to give me the phone."

His eyes flicked up to her. "What the fuck?" He didn't seem to be sure exactly what tone to use, so it came out as muddy confusion.

Taylor took an unsteady breath. She gripped her knees and tried to remember the feeling she'd had when she stood up to Logan.

"Nathan . . ." she lifted her right hand, slipping it into her pocket. She dragged a finger over the surface of the cold stone. "Give me that phone."

She almost yelled when she saw his pupils dilate suddenly - it looked even freakier in bright light than it had in the red of the End of the World party. He looked down at his phone, then up at Taylor.

He shrugged. "Yeah, whatever, take it." He held out his phone, but otherwise sat still.

Taylor scurried on all fours to the edge of the bed, then reached out and snatched his phone. He was mid-message to an unknown number. She hit up a few times to feel secure that the phone wouldn't go to sleep mode, then stood up.

"Yeah, thanks Nate. And when Victoria gets back from the bathroom, just tell her I went to bed."

"Roger."

Taylor began to walk as fast as she could as soon as she was outside of the room, making her way into the stairwell. Then she pulled the phone to her face again, trying to figure it out as quickly as she could. She hit End until she got to the home screen, then found the Settings. Settings to Personal Information? No, that was a profile. Back, down to Security. Yes, perfect - Password settings. Change Password. Input current password to change password.

Fuck! I should have thought of that first.

She didn't want to try and go back to the room. First, she had no idea if she could pull the Jedi mind tricks on Nathan a second time, and secondly, getting caught by Victoria sounded like one of the most uncomfortable, nevermind unexplainable, situations Taylor could imagine. No, she would just have to get all the information she could without letting the phone die or fall asleep. If Nathan wasn't the dealer . . . she was going to be in for some total shit.

Taylor thought about actually going to her room to figure this out, but there were two issues: one, she needed to make a call (and Victoria might check on her sooner or later), and two, she had no idea when Nathan would be capable of realizing what he'd done and come to get his phone.

You're going to be okay. Just get somewhere you won't be found.

It looked like it was time to take a walk.

Dana: "Wait, holy shit, you got the phone?"

Taylor: "Ha, yeah! But I can't change the password so I'm just kind of tapping buttons every few seconds to keep the screen lit. I don't know how much longer I'll have it, so, I need you and Juliet to take notes or something. Is she nearby?

Dana: "Yeah, we're just hanging out in her room. Can I put you on speaker?"

Taylor: "Please don't. Do you have headphones?"

Dana: "Yeah, sure. Who do you want to talk to?"

Taylor: "I, um. Not sure."

Dana: "Juliet says she'll do it - she's a better note-taker than I am. Give us a sec."

Taylor: "Mmhm."

Ever since she'd left school property, Taylor had gotten the feeling that she was being followed. Still, Blackwell was not that far from downtown and it wasn't late enough for no one to be on the streets, so she couldn't tell if the feeling had any merit. She walked as quickly as she could without looking like a total freak, alternating between looking at the phone and up at her surroundings.

Juliet: "Hey, Taylor, I'm here and I've got my notepad. What do you want me to write?"

Taylor: "None of the contacts in the phone are labelled, so I just need you to separate them and we'll work it out, okay?"

Juliet: "Sure, sure. What's the first one say?"

Taylor: "Okay, so, the first one looks like Nathan setting up a deal to buy something called 'G.' He made deals on 9/10 and 9/25. The first time, he complains that he got sold water."

Juliet: "Water?"

Taylor: "Like a watered-down product, I think. I don't know what G is - maybe Dana can look it up? I'm going on to the second one."

Juliet: "Okay. I got the drug, dates, and the complaint down."

Taylor: "Cool. Second contact, all the messages are more recent. Nathan asks repeatedly if there's any parties going on. The other person tells him to go to one of the parties 'his daddy' pays for. He says that's not enough and he needs a rager. Other person tells him to get bent. That was . . . oh, last week. 10/9."

Juliet: "Okay, weird, but whatever. What's next?"

Taylor: "It's literally just Nathan buying weed every few days for like the entire summer. I think this is just Frank's regular phone he's texting or something."

Juliet: "Okay, sure. Anything else?"

Taylor: "Yeah. Okay, wow - fourth contact is a lot. It's three messages that Nathan sent. "Here's the first one: 'Hey whore. Keep your fucking mouth shut or else. I know where you sleep.'"

Juliet: "Jesus fuck, Nathan. But, yeah, okay, go on."

Taylor: "The first one was last month, 9/16. Second one: 'Next time it won't be pig's blood. Feminazis will be exterminated.'"

Juliet: "Nathan's such a fucking red-piller. I really hope it's him." Juliet: "Oh and real quick, Dana wants me to tell you that 'G' might mean 'GHB', which is a muscle relaxant. It's a party drug that - come again? - can induce comas or death when mixed with alcohol. So it's a depressant, that's all we've really got there."

Taylor: "All right. The third message reads, 'What the fuck are you?' That's it."

Juliet: "Hmm. When were those last two messages sent?"

Taylor: "The second one was on 10/8. The last one was on 10/10."

Juliet: "October 10 . . . that was Thursday, right? What time did he send that?"

Taylor: "Um, about 11:30pm."

Juliet: "Wow, okay, ominous. But I guess we know what he was doing instead of going to the Vortex Club party, sheesh. Uh, is there more?"

Taylor: "Unfortunately, yeah."

Taylor had gotten through most of the town and was starting to walk along the hybrid of low-income homes and dirt roads that made up the northeastern corner of Arcadia Bay. And now, when she checked over her shoulder, she knew she was being followed. Not just by a person, either. She could see the flicker behind her, but it was making no attempts to catch up with her. Sooner or later, she was going to get cornered by this thing, and she was going to have to fight her way out.

I can get to the park. Maybe I'll have enough time to call someone if I can't figure out how to get my staff back. God, I don't want to do this.

Taylor: "Um, so, fifth contact. Only one message, real recent - 10/12. It says verbatim, 'Nathan, I know this must be a confusing time for you, but you have to believe me that this is for your own good. I wanted to wait until you were ready to receive this gift, but circumstances demanded more of both of us. Don't fuck it up.'"

Juliet: "So like, quick question - what the fuck is Nathan's life? Who has messages like this in their phone?"

Taylor: "Ha! I super don't know but I'm freaking out, to be honest. And there's one more. This one's got a few messages."

Juliet: "Okay, just lay them on me. Try and stay calm, Taylor, we'll handle this."

Taylor glanced back. The thing was staying almost a full block behind at all times, but it was getting harder and harder to see anything but its flaming eyes and fear made it hard to breathe.

Taylor: "Yeah, yeah, I am, I'm good. Here we go. The first one is from Nathan, and it says, 'Everything went great. Meet me in 30.' But about an hour later there's a message from the unknown contact that says, 'I don't know how you managed to ruin this, but consider yourself on probation. I wish to share my wisdom with you, but as long as you continue to behave like a tweaked out teen instead of the man you tell me you are, it's wasted. This will not happen again.' Nathan's message is from a little after 11:00 on 10/3, the other message is just past midnight on 10/4."

Juliet: "Hm. Yeah, okay, Dana would like me to say, 'what the fuuuucckkk what the fuck what the fuck?'

Taylor: "Ha! Yeah, same. And, hey look, I think I have to go, could I say goodbye to Dana?"

Juliet: "Oh, um, sure. One sec."

Taylor was on the path up to the park, and she was really banking on having a dramatic flip-around-to-face-her-opponent moment. She felt like hanging up immediately before a fight would give them the upper hand and, well, she needed any sort of help that she could get.

Dana: "Taylor?"

Taylor: "Yeah, hey Dana. I just wanted to let you know that I have to go. I'm being followed and I'm, uh, I'm going to call the police now. But I wanted to say thank you for helping me! You and Juliet are so sweet."

Dana: "My god, Taylor, are you going to be okay? Where are you?"

Taylor: "I'm in the city park like a mile north of the school. But I'll be okay, don't worry! I can take care of myself."

Dana: "Okay, just call the police. Juliet and I can come get you and-"

It was time. Taylor couldn't put this off anymore.

Taylor: "Don't come. I've got to go now, love you! Bye."

Taylor hit 'end', and immediately winced. She did not mean to say that. But maybe now was not the time to be worried about embarrassing herself in front of Dana when she had a demon or whatever to embarrass herself in front of.

Taylor reached into her pocket, made sure the gem was right where she left it, and paused. "You haven't been very stealthy, you know!"

She pivoted, expecting to find the shade coming up the path and into the field where she stood.

But she didn't. It was Logan. He had his hands in his letterman's jacket pockets and didn't even seem to realize Taylor was there - it was like he was just out for a stroll in the park one night. It was late enough at night that, if he weren't such a recognizable giant and the moon weren't nearly full, Taylor would probably have no idea who she was looking at. She refused to believe it was a coincidence that the shade was gone and Logan was here.

After a few more seconds, Logan's eyes fell on Taylor, and he stopped walking.

They stood about thirty paces apart - far enough that Taylor felt uncomfortable about having a confrontation out loud, but she'd also much prefer to keep him at a distance for the feeling of security.

"Oh, is that Taylor?" he called. "Weird meeting you here, huh?!"

Oh god. She hadn't been prepared for the pre-fight banter.

"Ha, yeah, too weird." Fuck, no, say something witty. "Kind of like your relationship with Dana."

What!? No! That's just going to piss him off!

"Oof. Y'know, really, that hurts right here," he said, tapping his fingers over his heart. Then, he snapped his fingers and pointed at her, as if he'd just remembered something. "Funny you should mention that, though. I think I happen to remember you having something to do with that going sour." He took a step forward, put a hand up beside his face and stage-whispered (about as loud as you possibly could, honestly), "Speaking of which, how is her and Justin? I've never seen someone try so hard to get cucked before."

"What? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Taylor actually, literally didn't know what that meant, but she would have been equally confused if she did.

He just shook his head. "Taylor, Taylor, Taylor. When are you going to learn that you wouldn't have so many problems if you just shut up and stayed out of people's way? Maybe then you wouldn't come off as such a schizo bitch."

Taylor could feel something around her now. It was like a thin fog seeped from her person and slowly made everything hazier, the moonlight dimmer. The longer this conversation went on, the more sure she was that she could kill this thing.

"You know what, Logan? You were just fucking irritating when you were some football player. Even when you were hooking up with Dana you were never anything but some dumbfuck linebacker who had to beg his way into a relationship. You weren't even worth manipulating because you were too fucking stupid to take instructions."

She could feel the light of the moon fading away, and there was little she could see in the field except for Logan - the fog wasn't just a blur now, it drifted over the grass and blot out the stars like LA smog. She wasn't sure if she should be scared - but she wasn't. Not anymore.

She started to laugh. "But now? Now that you're some monster? I'm happy, Logan. It's finally worth it to hurt you. And I'm so, so glad that I can." She drew the red stone from her pocket and clasped it tightly in front of her heart. It didn't feel so cold anymore - she could feel some heat, some energy leaking out of her, comforting her.

Logan grinned, placing his hands on his hips. "Well, all right, you're real scary." He tapped on his chest with both hands. "Give it your best shot."

It was like a heart beat that started from her hand. The gem began to glow, and a ripple ran through the fog, pulling some of it in, towards her. It began to swirl around her body, much like she had seen happen to Warren, only she wasn't drowning in it. When the pulse came again, the fog lifted from her, and the clothes were back. The robe, the lace glove, the gaudy bangles that no one in their right mind would wear. And so was the staff.

"Cool," Logan called, deadpan.

How the fog would behave became apparent to her immediately, though not in any rational way. All she knew was it only took a small motion.

She gripped her staff with both hands and swiped it through the air. A wave formed in the fog, dense and utterly black. She knew it was dangerous, and for a second, when she saw only Logan in front of it, she wondered if this might kill him.

Just before the mass struck him, however, a gout of flame appeared in front of him, and the wave broke. When Taylor recovered from the flash of light, at first she thought that Logan had disappeared.

Instead, he was replaced. The shade that stood where he once stood wasn't like the first - it was so much larger, more than eight feet tall at least, and the fire wrapped around his strange arms as well. But the one thing that was the same, the same it had been every time, was that Cheshire smile like a window to Hell.

Well. Fuck.

"Well, I was just getting-"

The distorted, horrible voice came across the field as if distance couldn't weaken it at all: "Shut up now, Taylor."

The fire that snaked around the shade's arms began to shift and squirm, then drop from its body like weights. He caught the ends of them while the rest plunged into the earth.

"Well, okay."

She wasn't sure quite what to think about that until the ground in front of her blasted itself into the air, and chains of fire emerged and wrapped themselves around her legs. She managed one shocked look up at the shade's grin before she was pulled forward, landing on her back as she was dragged over the field. She hit her head but managed to keep a grip on the staff.

She could see the chains of fire all the way back over at Logan, coiling around his arms as it fed up from the ground, pulling taut. She used the few, painful seconds she had before she reached him to come up with a plan, the only plan she had: jab him with the staff. It had worked last time.

He was laughing when she finally reached him, the chains unraveling themselves from her body and back onto his. She jabbed the staff up at his chest hoping some magic would happen, but he just grabbed the head of the staff.

Fuck. Why did her magic have to require motion? That was so stupid and now she was going to die and-

"Hey, dickhead! Paws off my girlfriend!"

The shade froze, glancing over its shoulder at something Taylor couldn't see. When she tried to use the distraction to pull the staff free, he ripped it from her grasp and threw it away. She tried to scramble to her feet, but the fire just snaked its way off of his arm again and grabbed her ankle. She couldn't move, and she was only feet away from her staff.

Rachel stood at the end of the path to the park, wearing what was probably her only warm vest. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail like it was time for gym, and she looked about as pissed as if it were gym with Logan, too.

The shade turned to face Rachel, the same smile never fading from its face. "Another one?" it asked.

"Yeah." Rachel reached into the vest's breast pocket, and drew out a huge, shining white gem. "Another witch."

In a flash of light, everything about Rachel changed. Light that looked silver and liquid wrapped around her body. The gem shined, and beams of light seemed to grow from it. The dark fog that covered the field split where she stood, basking her in the light of the moon even once the flash was over.

In the darkness, Rachel shined, and a bow carved from pale wood sat in her hand. Her clothes, too, had vanished, replaced by a gray dress (with buttons down the center for no clear reason, and a faux belt. It looked kind of ridiculous) and black boots.

Luckily, Taylor was the only one who was distracted by the clothes. Rachel turned and lifted the bow, raising her hand to the string. She actually looked like she knew what she was doing (which was a relief, because Taylor had been pretty convinced they were both about to die).

The shade raised one of its massive hands and beckoned Rachel with a hand. "Fine then. Bring it on."

Once Rachel's hand touched the string, a bolt of light coalesced, knocked on the string. As she drew it back, its light radiated further, brighter. Taylor could clearly see her take a deep breath.

At the last second, Rachel pivoted just a little, and loosed the bolt. Another burst of flame rose to protect the shade. But it came like a flash and rent the chain that held Taylor and the fog around her alike. Taylor stumbled forward to her staff, catching herself from topping over entirely.

By the time the shade realized what had happened, Taylor already had the staff in her hands again. It spun around to face the blade of darkness that formed this time, Taylor charging at the giant, hoping to catch it by surprise.

The flame rose again, and Taylor's attack was dispelled into nothingness.

"Fancy trick, but-"

There was another flash, and then a shining arrow pierced through the shade's body.

Its hands fumbled along its body, wrapping around the arrow where the fire inside only seemed to glow brighter. "No," it said, little more than a whisper.

Rachel didn't seem interested in moderation. When the second arrow emerged from the shade's torso, it began to scream in that horrible, horrible voice. The fire inside its body grew and grew as the darkness burned away, and soon all there was was a tower of flame. Taylor fell back in awe and fear.

And then, the fire extinguished, and Logan fell to the ground. Taylor placed her staff against the ground and pulled herself up from the ground, no longer afraid as Logan gasped, the darkness pouring out of his mouth and forming a mist around his body. Taylor just held her staff aloft, and let the darkness spill out, drawing itself into the gem atop her staff.

And then it was over.

"Taylor, you were amazing!"

Taylor hadn't even heard Rachel approaching, but suddenly Rachel had flung her whole body onto Taylor, and only by sheer luck and Rachel's cooperation did she keep them both from plummeting to the ground.

Rachel started to plant kiss after kiss on Taylor everywhere she could reach - her neck and her jaw and her cheek - and she held on so tightly that Taylor couldn't even turn to hug her back. "Are - you - okay? Did he hurt you?"

Taylor just opted to drop the staff, grab Rachel's hand, and pry it off her. That way, she was able to pivot and pull Rachel into the tightest hug of her life. "No, no, no, I'm all right. What are you doing here?"

Rachel didn't reply until their hug broke, and she started to stab pokes into Taylor's chest. "I was saving your ass, genius! And I was damn good at it, too!"

Taylor grinned, and pulled her into another hug. "You're a witch!" she exclaimed.

"I'm a witch!"

And for once, things were so weird that they both got to laugh about it.

When the hug ended, Taylor still left her hands on Rachel's shoulders. "And you called me your girlfriend!"

Rachel's eyes went wide. "Aaahh, I did! I'm sorry, I got really caught up in the rescue and-"

"No, no, no-" Taylor wrapped her hands around the back of Rachel's neck and pulled her into a kiss. She had absolutely never had a high like this moment, and every single touch felt weightless, easy, and electric. When their kiss broke, Taylor finished, "Please let me be your girlfriend."

Rachel's face was bright, shining like the light she conjured. Her eyes were wide and filled with the same wonder that suffused Taylor's whole body.

Rachel nodded, and didn't stop nodding. "Okay, yeah." More nodding. "I wanna date you."

"Same."

Another kiss - this one interrupted by a squeal that gradually grew in Rachel until she just had to let it out.

"I JUST FUCKIN' KILLED A DEMON, DID YOU SEE THAT!?"

They let each other go just long enough to lace their fingers together. Taylor let herself get just as loud. "I DID! YOU'RE A BADASS!"

"I'm so excited, oh my god. Just - just, make out with me. Holy shit everything is-"

They kissed until their witch costumes faded away and they had real clothes again, and once their hearts had settled down a little.

Rachel asked, "So we just have to do that like, like a bunch more times?"

Taylor nodded, still refusing to let go of Rachel's hands (and Rachel didn't seem interested in letting her). "Yeah, basically. We're supposed to get one more person in the team, I think. The Raven said there were two others."

"Okay, okay - cool, cool cool cool." Rachel leaned down, slipping her arms around Taylor's waist and pulling herself against her chest. "Oh, god, that was scary. When I saw that he had you I-"

"You saved me. You're a rock star, seriously."

"God, I love you."

Taylor grinned. She was starting to be able to tell the difference between the sound of someone talking and them thinking.

"Hey," she said, "I love you too."

"You heard-?"

"Yeah. It's okay, it's okay. I'm happy. I get it."

"Okay."

They stood like that, holding each other, for quite some time. The conversation mostly died after the 'I love you', but it was okay - Taylor was so happy she was dizzy, and holding Rachel just drew out the best moment of her life.

But sooner or later, someone had to break it. And that someone was Rachel. "Is he . . . gonna be okay?"

"I . . . think so? Zach was fine."

"Maybe we should . . . get him somewhere safe?"

"How?"

Rachel shrugged, finally breaking the two of them apart. "I guess . . . I guess we'll need a ride." She blinked. "I'll give Chloe a call, and we'll get you home."

Taylor smiled. She wished the moment never had to end, but one fight didn't end everything. Or anything. It just kept them going.

"Okay."

Chloe hadn't brought up anything strange about the situation as they'd all worked together to load Logan into the bucket of bolts she called a pickup truck. In fact, she was pretty short on conversation until they were scrunched up in the cab, Rachel without a seatbelt as she wedged between Taylor and Chloe. It wasn't until they drove past Blackwell that Taylor thought it might be a good idea to figure out what was going on.

"Um, Chloe, right?"

"Mhm."

"Hey, so. Where are we going?"

Chloe leaned comfortably against her window as she drove, as if she did this sort of thing all the time. Her eyes flicked over to Taylor for just a second. "The beach, I guess. Kids from Blackwell show up there passed out more than you might think. And there's no way I'm trying to explain this to David right now."

"Oh."

Back to quiet in the car. Taylor had been anticipating either the most confusing explanation of her life or stubborn denial and deal-making, but she hadn't expected to just pretend that nothing was happening.

After a moment, Chloe said, "So, you're Taylor, right?"

"Um, yeah."

"One of Victoria's friends, right?"

Taylor shrugged. "I mean, yeah."

"You don't have to say it like that," Rachel's mind grumbled.

"I heard she got some photo award because Max didn't show up, right?"

Taylor winced. "Yes, technically.

Chloe nodded. "Cool. I know photography is a big deal for her - she'd never shut up about it."

Taylor was rapidly getting confused by the conversation. When Chloe brought up something good in Victoria's life (ex. Everyday Heroes) it sounded mean, but when she brought up something negative (ex. Victoria talking too much), she came off as genuinely interested in her life. Did Victoria and Chloe actually know each other? And if they did, why didn't Taylor know that they did?

Taylor swiped hair behind her ear. Rachel noticed and smirked, leaning against Taylor's shoulder.

"I hope Max isn't too disappointed she didn't get to go. I know her photography is really important to her."

Chloe chuckled. "Yeah, no, she'll live. The two of them, though . . . huh."

Rachel peered over at Chloe. "What is it?"

As they pulled into one of the beach parking lots, Chloe said, "They should just bone already. It's got to be insufferable for Jefferson to teach when they're so competitive."

"Um, gross? Illegal?" Rachel high-talked, sitting back upright as they parked.

As they were dumping Logan out on the sand, Chloe said between strained breaths: "So - are you two - like - an item?"

Rachel hasn't said anything?

They dropped Logan's body like a mattress, then looked around at each other. There was a general aura of, 'this is very criminal, and the less we talk about it, the better.'

Rachel looked at Taylor for a second, then back at Chloe. Just the same as she had in gym. Only this time, "Yeah. Like, literally fifteen minutes ago, actually."

Chloe snorted, stuffing her hands into her pockets. "Well, you know what I say. Nothing to bring girls closer together than killing a man."

Taylor stuffed her hands inside her jacket and in her armpits, hoping to keep the smallest portion of warmth to herself. "Um, he's not dead."

Chloe quirked her eyebrows, and asked, "Logan?" Then she kicked Logan's side experimentally. "Shame."

As they arrived at Blackwell, Rachel was back to laying on Taylor's shoulder (!!!) and starting to look very sleepy. However, once she recognized where they were, she said, "Babe?"

"Hm?" Taylor and Chloe hummed in unison. Taylor did her best to hide her embarrassed smile, staring out the passenger-side window.

"I know I said I was going to come over, but I think I want to stay close to Blackwell tonight."

Chloe's eyes darted between Rachel and Taylor for a second before she shrugged and said, "Sure."

Unfortunately, there was someone to greet them in the parking lot. As they pulled up next to the curb that would lead them up to the school, David Madsen, the school's head of security, came down the steps. Chloe didn't seem that troubled, although she did roll her eyes when she parked.

Taylor unbuckled her seat belt and opened the door. She wasn't really sure what the consequences for being out late were, but at least she wasn't drunk.

"Beep beep. Late night delivery," Chloe called as David approached.

Initially, David looked pissed. But once he noticed Rachel getting out of the car after Taylor, he just rolled his eyes and sighed. "Whatever," he said. "Just get to your rooms, okay?"

Rachel grabbed Taylor's hand with her left and gave a two-fingered salute with her right. "Can do."

As the two of them basically jogged hand-in-hand into the school courtyard, Rachel started to laugh once they reached the school fountain. She twisted around and grabbed Taylor's other hand, tugging it around as she gesticulated excitedly. "We are going to own this school!"

The feelings were kicking in immediately now that they were alone again. "Oh? Does the school have a new power couple?"

"Super-power couple, maybe."

Rachel pulled Taylor's hands down to her hips, standing on her toes to lean into a kiss. The sound of the fountain was all there was for a second until Taylor's gripped tightened and she pulled Rachel closer, prompting a soft moan.

Which completely short-circuited Taylor's brain.

Once they broke apart, all Taylor could say (or think) was, "I really like doing that."

Rachel, delighted, began to walk her fingers up Taylor's arm to her shoulder. "Oh yeah? Well we don't have to stop anytime soon."

There was a new smoothness in Rachel's tone that made Taylor shiver excitedly, but it also prompted questions. "What - what do you mean?"

Once Rachel's fingers reached the top of Taylor's neck, they gently began to slide down her neck, over her throat. "I mean . . . well, you could sleep in my room, if you wanted to."

The fuses in Taylor's brain went from just malfunctioning to shooting sparks and potentially starting very dangerous fires.

"Um, like, to . . . sleep? Or . . ."

"That's up to you."

"Hhhhh," was the only sound Taylor could produce in response, clearly freezing. A proposition for sex was absolutely not something she had been mentally or otherwise preparing for. Nothing had ever prepared her for the possibility of physical chemistry with somebody she really liked. She hadn't even thought she'd like kissing as much as she did, and she thought about kissing a lot.

Rachel's expression sank from seductive to nervous. "Or - or not, like, don't let me pressure you, I'd super just like to-"

"No, no, that's something we should talk about."

Rachel quirked her eyebrows, obviously stuck in a state of anomie.

Taylor took Rachel's hand and continued their walk towards the dorms.

"So. Shit, I should have brought this up earlier, but, uh, I'm not . . . super interested in the sexual part of a relationship."

Rachel tilted her head. Her thumb worked comforting circles into Taylor's palm, which helped with the 'don't totally shut down and blow everything' thing she was trying to do.

"I'm ace," Taylor said, only making quick side-eyes at Rachel to watch her reaction.

"Oh . . ." Rachel said, looking ahead now. Her face pinched as she thought. ". . . okay. Hm."

Taylor should have expected as much, but these seconds of hesitation still made her want to be invisible. Rachel held her too tightly for that, and for that she was grateful.

"So," Rachel said, "I'm just gonna be real with you - I really like sex, and it's important to me. But I also like you." She looked up at Taylor now with a smile, while Taylor's lungs struggled to continue to breathe.

"I like you too," Taylor replied. She had to force her smile, even if that was a genuinely good thing to hear.

That broadened Rachel's smile, and she nodded. "Good. So we'll work something out. Together."

Taylor was flushed red as they entered the dorm courtyard. Rachel looked like she was in much the same state, her mouth crushed into a flat line as she tried to hold back an awkward grin.

"Because we're together," Rachel tacked on, like the most awkward fuck on the planet.

"Mhm," Taylor replied, trying just as hard not to grin.

That basically immediately failed once Rachel held up their linked hands and yelled at the dorms: "TAYLOR CHRISTENSEN'S MY GIRLFRIEND!"

"Ssshh shh shh!" Taylor tried to bring her mouth over Rachel's face, but she wasn't having any of it - once she was done yelling, she just started to cackle at an inappropriate volume. "Stop - stop it, you'll embarrass me!"

Rachel broke their hand hold to make as big a 'whatever, man' pose as possible on the steps of the dorm. "Yeah? And I can do that now, because you're my girlfriend."

"Stop."

"Make me."

Taylor smiled, settling down a little. "Okay." She started to raise a hand to tuck her hair behind her hair again (that infernal tic!), but Rachel beat her to it, reaching out to brush it back and stroke her cheek at the same time.

Taylor took a hesitant step forward and kissed Rachel one more time.

Before they entered the dorms, Taylor leaned her forehead against Rachel's (they were almost the same height if Rachel stood on one of the dorm steps), taking a deep breath. "I think . . . I think I want to sleep by myself tonight," she said. "But . . . maybe this weekend . . . we could have a movie night in our pajamas or something? And then, maybe . . ."

Rachel closed her eyes and smiled. "I'd like that."

"Cool."

They stood like that for a moment, foreheads touching, eyes closed, basking in the orange light of the courtyard and the excitement of a new relationship. It was more than Taylor had ever imagined, and it was only just beginning.

"Come on," Rachel said, lifting her forehead away and planting a kiss on Taylor's. "It's bed time."

Taylor nodded. She didn't want the night to end, but she also couldn't wait for tomorrow to come. "Yeah . . . and I should probably tell Dana and Juliet I'm okay."

"Yes, you should," Rachel replied as she dragged Taylor inside.

They said good night once, came to the shower room to brush their teeth at the same time, messed around, kissed some more with the overwhelming taste of mint, and said good night again. When Taylor went to bed that night, she thought not at all about the things she'd found on Nathan's phone, even when she sent Dana a few text messages to say everything had worked out fine (the guy ran off when the police showed up, after all. She just got a ride home). She fell asleep dazed by the light in her life now.

End of Arc 1: Light and Dark

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axburrows · 5 years ago

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DIARY: ‘MY WEEK IN BILE’

By RICHARD LITTLETHOUGHT

The Voice of Truth; if by ‘Truth’ you Mean ‘Profoundly Right-Wing Assertions’

Monday: ‘Oh, Woke is Me!’

In the words of homosexual songsmith, Cole Porter, these days ‘anything goes’! So get your ears round this crock, readers. Yesterday morning I was woken, not by the regular dawn chorus that echoes through these bosky Basildonian terraces – the song of the gull, the linnet, the sand piper, the collared dove, the coal tit – but to the tune of another breed of avian entirely: professional vulture, Justice Lady Hale.

‘I declare Parliament hashtag open!’, cawed Lady Hale through the radio. ‘And there’s sweet FA that you can do about it! Fact! Get over it, grubby Brexity morlocks! Yah boo! Chur-chill was a rac-ist! Chur-chill was a rac-ist!’

‘Thank you, Strong-Female-Role-Model Justice Hale!’ slavered Nick Robinson. ‘Is there anything further you’d like to add at the expense of the licence fee payer?’

‘Yes. Please follow my topless selfies and politicised rants about menstruation on Bebo!’

* Nick Robinson clicks fingers in applause *

‘Pah!’ I expostulated from my quilt. ‘I’ll eat yur cheeks, madam!’

What a load of pocket billiards this is, readers! And all on the same day that Nigel Farage was fatally gunged by Get Your Own Back’s Dave Benson Phillips for being ‘a kulak’! [1.#Citation needed##] It beggars belief. It beggars belief.

Readers, indulge me here. Having spent the last three months living hand-to-mouth from a B&B in Dover, perhaps I’m a little out of sync with the latest glut of voguish Jacobins. Tell me; to what fresh depths has the Today Programme sunk? The second that that decent Mr Humphrys turns his chapped Welsh back on the show – like a haunted Mt Snowdon – and retreats to his retirement home at Wuthering Heights, the production staff only go and open the door to this month’s mob o’worms!

It was enough to make me scream into the sheets, thus rousing my puce-legged wife, Vanessa – that pliant Smaug! At that moment, my personal muscle-dog, Alphonso, charged into our bedroom and sank his teeth into the bakelite of my bedside radiogram. ‘Stellar work, Alphonso!’, I enunciated from my eiderdown. ‘That’s put a bung up em, the slippery blowhards! Ho ho!’

(NB: Alphonso is an ex-service dog whom I trained specifically to protect me from RuPaul! He can also count-out the date of Magna Carta with his paw, thus making him eminently more qualified than most British school leavers. Vanessa insisted we get him neutered. I heartily rebelled against the proposal and actively installed an additional pair of testicles onto Alphonso, which gave rise to the nickname ‘The Abacus’ – hence his ability with dates.)

Tuesday: ‘A Colon-stitutional Disgrace!’

Well, that’s the worst of them jemmy Remainers for now, says I! That was until I saw on the web that Caroline Lucas – a Pastoral Support Officer at a school for orphaned mandrills – has demanded we write a new constitution from scratch and in dung, and proposed an oestrogen-only cabinet to resolve the Brexit impasse!

Now look here, m’gurl! I agree; there’re boy jobs and then there’re girl jobs. But hand on heart, unless you’re gonna treat the hard-working British heteros of this land to a well-earned burlesque show – and god knows we all need a bit of light entertainment round about now – then this is nothing short of patricide! Unless you’re all gonna dress up in leopard print cat suits and make a video entitled The Rump Parliament, then you’re talking a packet of Tuc Crackers ™!

Wednesday: ‘Microsoft Cliff Art’

Worked on my Mindfulness colouring book. Spent 7 hours shading in a squirrel’s tail. Needless to say I felt shit afterwards and drank to forget. Had to drive to Dover to feel re-centred. Once I was convinced that I definitely had a penis, I returned to mainland. And so, to bed!

Thursday: ‘It’s Thursday, I’m in Love!’

Cor! Thinking about that Rump Parliament made me heartsick and no mustake! There are moments, proverbial dark nights of the soul, where I fantasise about leaving Vanessa for other women and I have to find my special space. I sit alone in our airing cupboard, slaking my misery with a bottle of Haig Club. An ether of Lenor and single grain whisky brings on a reverie of regret and erotic self-hate. Truth be told, readers, I have a bit of a pash for those lady opticians you get at Specsavers. In my fantasies, I am cashing-in my free eye appointment coupon at my local branch. I hear the fluting voices of oculists, seeking me in the darkness of the optometry room. ‘Can you read the letters for me, Mr Littlethought?’

‘Yes. “L O V E”. Which spells…’.

‘I never thought you cared, Mr Littlethought.’

‘Dance with me, won’t you!’

‘No, I have flat feet. The other opticians will only laugh at me!’

‘Well… maybe they don’t see you like I see you.’ And I gesture at the glasses, clarifying the wordplay for her. Then she swoons into my arms, like a hake.

‘Oh Annabella!’ I say, my eyes flashing with passion and possible glaucoma, ‘Let me ask your father for your hand!’

‘But he lives in South Benfleet! The last gig and pony left five minutes ag-’

‘Dammit, I’ll ride there myself!’ I say, putting on my tricornered hat.

‘Oh, Richard!’

‘Please. For you it’s Dick.’ I wink at her, but - as I roll my eyes towards my belt - I feel a lump on my cornea and realise that I am in need of urgent surgery. I’m rushed to hospital and she runs off with the county dog catcher.

Thus are the disappointments of life. All my fantasies are disappointments. Oh well. At least I no longer get those night terrors where a coquettish Fanny Craddock materialises at my bedside and transforms into the ghost of a dust mite, mid-coitus.

Friday: ‘Trigger-ed Unhappy!’

Having already been provoked by social media this week, it was perhaps a serious error of judgement to procure a pair of Google Glasses! But what can I say? I can’t resist a trip to Specsavers.

The Google Glasses brought everything that I despise about modern Britain quite literally into view, turning my very sight into a rolodex of airborne Maoism and adverts for courgette spiralizers!

My sickness came to a head on Friday when I noticed that Guy Verhofstadt – a recently divorced supply teacher in a perpetual fight with an overhead projector – tweeted that, after prorogation, ‘nobody could ever complain again that the EU was anti-democratic’.

When I read this, I went to the bottom of my garden where I have a small potting shed. I keep my bicycle propped up against the clapboard. I wheeled it to the back gate and cycled into the sea.

Finned

#rubbishsatire

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jay-bizzleimagines · 7 years ago

Text

Bad Blood (Changed from Starting a War) // Chapter Two

The Next Day

I laid in my unmade bed writing notes for my finals yet again, while Justin went on about how Hailey and Kylie's decorations were amazing over facetime.

Stopping in her tracks my roommate, Maya, stood outside my door, "Is that Justin?"

Her heavy Australian accent was easy for me to understand, but Justin on the other hand stopped talking only when he heard his name.

"Yeah."

She made her way to the bed to sit in front of my Mac, "Have you told your dill friends to lay off Lina for the night?"

Most everyone called me Lina, the only exceptions to this were Justin's friends who instead chose to call me Ev against my will. On the screen Justin shook his head, "They are the ones that are throwing the party, they wanted to. There's not going to be any fights tonight as long as you and Dorian don't start any."

"Justin, you're friends start the fights. I may finish them but they start them."

"Whatever Maya, you always start fights with someone." Usually when Justin and Maya argued I let it happen. The problem was most of the time they both were right and instead of admitting the other was right also they would argue, which left me in the middle.

"No, I start fights with you because you treat Lina like shit. I wish she wouldn't have gotten back together with you after the shit you pulled."

"But she did and that shit kills you doesn't it, Maya? You always wanna talk for Lina but she doesn't need you to."

With that Maya threw the middle finger to Justin and left the room, leaving Justin with a small grin on his face.

"So it begins."

His smile faltered, and he ran his hand over his face, "Me and Maya just don't click."

"You did. Before everything we all got along but then you and Maya started fighting and that made your friends not like me and here we are."

"You can say it's my fault."

I got up and turned the laptop to face my small closet so I could pick an outfit. I did this to avoid the conversation that was about to start and also because there was no way I could say this wasn't a little bit his fault.

Justin could sense that I wasn't going to comment back and turned the conversation in a better direction, "Is that what you're wearing tonight?"

I nodded and held up lace and mesh dress that had a slit up the leg I had picked out.

"I don't know what shoes to wear yet though."

"What about the ones you wore for my birthday? They made your legs look so sexy and with that dress- damn."

I smiled at his comment, but again did not reply. The truth was the shoes along with the outfit I wore for his birthday had gotten returned because I needed to pay my part of rent that month. I didn't tell Justin because that would start two conversations: one being why didn't I let him buy the clothes and two would be why didn't I let him give me the money for the rent.

My parents were paying for what my scholarships didn't cover in my tuition, but they did not agree with me living on my own so did not agree to help with the rent. Letting Justin didn't feel right to me and it would also aide his friends' "she uses you" conspiracy.

"Those were Nessa's and I think she is going to wear them, I'll find something. Anyway I've got to go, we'll be at your house around nine. I love you."

Justin returned the sentiment and I ended the facetime, before doing my make up and straightening some hairs.

At 8:30 there was a knock on my door from Nessa indicating that it was time to leave. I quickly grabbed black heels from my closet and left to Justin's.

-------

Arriving at Justin's was no different from the day before, the only cars that sat in the large driveway, that was more like a parking lot, were Justin's, Hailey's, and Za's. I already knew that the rest of the girls drove with Hailey and the boys with Za. That is one thing Justin's friends had in their favor, numbers.

The door to Justin's large multi-million dollar mansion was unlocked and the sounds of everyone from the back yard could already be heard. Maya groaned and made her way to the bar with Dorian while Nessa and I headed to the back.

We were greeted by a loud, blasted Khalil who yelled across the pool, "AYYY, Ev, what up?"

Knowing he wouldn't remember five minutes from now that I was even here I gave a small, barely noticeable wave. Justin was sitting in the fire pit off to the side, that already had a fire going, and laughed with Kylie Jenner and what looked like her friend Harry.

I slowly made my way to him, glancing towards the DJ's table that was right next to a small stage further in the lawn. I shook my head and gently put a hand on Justin's shoulder.

Finally noticing my presence he hopped up and pulled me into a strong hug, "Hey baby, Kylie pushed back the time for everyone to be here because she said nine is too early for a party and it let's us all chill for a little."

I nodded and Justin laid a sloppy kiss on the edge of my lips. As he did I could smell the heavy scent of weed and alcohol on him already.

"How long have the guys been here?" I asked, knowing that they would have been the ones to smoke with Justin.

"Maybe an hour and a half. Why?"

"You stink."

Justin pulled away with no answer, confirming my suspicions. Just a few weeks ago I had stopped smoking for school and out of respect Justin stopped smoking around me. But with this came him smoking with everyone else and left me wondering what happened in that time.

"You didn't ask me to stop smoking."

I nodded and looked up to him, "I know. But with your history of smoking with them."

Justin nodded in acknowledgement and a voice behind us said, "Hey Lina."

Turning around I was met with Justin's oldest friend and the only friend of his that I actually got along with, Ryan.

"Butler, Hey! I didn't know you were coming!"

Ryan pulled me into a hug and laughed, "Nessa called me and then I called Justin. So I came and brought Chaz."

"What? Chaz, really?"

He nodded and pointed over in his direction before he greeted Justin, "Hey man. Haven't seen you in awhile."

They continued their conversation and I walked over to Chaz Somers, whose dark brown hair was significantly longer than the last time I had seen him and facial hair covered a good amount of his face. Without a word he pulled me into a hug and let out a laugh.

"I don't know how Ryan got me here, if I'm honest." Chaz felt the way about Justin's other friends the way you would feel about your estranged family at a reunion. He didn't like being around them but it was a small price to pay to hang out with Justin.

"Not gonna lie, I'm surprised. I miss you guys." I sighed and walked over to a set of chairs with Chaz.

"I miss being around but shit's changed. But tonight's not about all that sad shit, you're graduating!"

I laughed and nodded, "Yeah, it's crazy."

Chaz and I continued to talk, and slowly but surely more people started to join us. Somewhere in the chaos of conversation Justin left my side. My eyes glanced over the crowd, searching for Justin's familiar head until I was suddenly being pulled by Kylie towards the stage.

Kylie smiled while she spoke, "There's a surprise." Surprisingly, out of all of Justin's friend Kylie probably liked me the most and for the most part she treated me like a friend.

Looking around Justin's backyard I could now see that there was a good amount of people here and as expected I knew very few of them personally. As Kylie pulled me up the stairs to the stage I spotted Dorian and the girls who were all sitting quietly watching at the bar that had been set up.

Eventually Kylie let go of my hand and made her way to the microphone at the center of the stage, and the DJ behind her lowered the music.

"Hey guys! You all havin' fun?" The crowd screamed and Kylie laughed, "Good. As you all know this isn't just a regular Justin Bieber party, it's a party to celebrate his girl's, here, graduation because fuck yeah!"

Kylie paused allowing the crowd to again scream and clap in excitement. Most of the people out there probably didn't know my name let alone that I was in college, but the fake excitement for me still made me smile.

"So since this is such a big moment Justin asked a few people to come up and say a few things to Ev. If that's all right?"

As Kylie walked away everyone, including me, waiting to see who would come out. Unexpectedly, I heard voice come from behind me and instead of someone being there, the faces of my parents were displayed on a large projector.

I smiled at their faces because though I lived only an hour away from them I didn't get to see them as much as I wanted. My mom was the first to speak, "Hello my beautiful Mimi, god how I love you and how proud I am of you. Words cannot begin to describe how proud I really am of how far you've come."

My mom's face turned from the camera, wiping away tears that had begun to fall and soon I began to cry too, "You are such an amazing women and you have change my life for the better in so many ways, we know you will go on to change the world. You're bright and so, so smart it inspires me. I love you so, Mimi. I know you hate that nickname but deal."

She jokingly smiled before letting my dad speak, his words just as tear jerking as my mother's. As the video ended I wiped my tears away with a tissue that Kylie handed to me. Next another video started revealing the face of Ed Sheeran and causing the crowd behind me to erupt in screams.

"Hello, Evelina. Justin called me up and said that a very important someone in his life was graduating college soon, that I was her favorite artist, aside from him of course, and he wanted me to say a few words to you. As everyone knows I don't have a Uni degree so this is something to be celebrated and rather than tell you so over a screen I'd like to tell you in person, if that's alright? Well, of course it is."

Behind me the DJ started the music to Barcelona and on the other side of the stage a redheaded figure made it's way to where I stood. My hands quickly hand their way over my mouth and stood in shock. There was still no sign of Justin but Nessa ran up the stage stairs, laughing at my reaction.

As Ed made his way through the song I danced with Nessa, letting myself enjoy this moment that wouldn't last forever. Once he finished, Ed gave me a long hug that made me realize that tears were streaming down my cheeks.

"I'm sorry I'm crying." Laughing Ed shook his head, "It's fine! There is one last surprise for you though, this party would not be complete without a message from your man, now would it?"

Ed pointed to the back of the stage where Justin now stood in a new suit. Smiling he stayed where he stood, "Hello, beautiful. Stop that crying okay?"

I nodded and started to make my way to him before he shook his head and winked, "You gotta stay there for now. But hey listen, guys, this amazing women is just that amazing. Many of you don't know her, but I'm sure all of you can see just how incredible she is tonight. She's graduated with a 4.0 GPA that she worked day in and day out to get, she tutored kids when she didn't have to, she stayed up until ungodly hours to study, she works every night and has never called off against my will, she makes time for her friends and helps any time she can, she rarely says no, and even though I suck sometimes she still loves me."

Even though I was told not to cry, it was hard for me not to. Justin was an incredible person and I knew my friends didn't see that, but I did.

Justin paused to smile at me and give me a look that said 'stop crying' before continuing, "You deserve everything good that comes your way, Evelina Laurel King, and I want to ask you a very important question tonight..."

His hand quickly gestured to the screen that now read, "Will you accept my promise ring?"

Before he could say anything else I ran towards him, nodding my head, "Yes!" My arms tightly wrapped around him, his doing the same before bringing my face to his and kissing my lips.

"Well, thank you, babe but I also have something else for you." Looking back up at the screen it now read, "Can I pay your tuition now?"

-------

Something you guys should know about Evelina is she's like me and has a lot of pride and is really stubborn. But I'm gonna leave it here for now, thoughts?

#justin bieber #Justin Bieber Fan Fiction #justin bieber imagines #bad blood

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perpetually-jungshook · 8 years ago

Text

Hoseok: Emergency Personnel Meeting

Genre: AU, fluff, business man Hobi (feat. Namjin)

Summary: A mandatory company meeting gets spicy when someone shows up late.

Word Count: 2.7k

There are three words that every employee dreads. Three words that turn the stomach of every person no matter their position, pay-grade, or prestige. Three words that make you groan as soon as you open the email titled “Monthly Memo.”

Personnel Performance Review.

Beneath the big, bold, Copperplate fonted title is the expected mandatory public relations bullshit.

“Dear valued employee,

It has recently come to my attention that… etc etc… there has been a trend of decreasing sales, profit, employee satisfaction, and other important statistical figures… etc etc… so this Saturday, I will be hosting a mandatory workshop… etc-”

Wait. Saturday?

He wants you to come in on a Saturday? If you’d thought Kim Namjoon couldn’t be any more of an asshole than he already was, you were wrong.

The man couldn’t even use an autofill application to input individual names? No, he had to use a general “Dear employee.”

You huff, closing the email and opting to forget about it for the next few days. At least you’ll be getting overtime and hopefully they’ll buy those ridiculously good donuts that they served last time…

“A veggie plate?” you lament as you stare at the refreshment table.

“I know,” Seokjin, the only person you would call your “friend” in the entire office, sighs heavily. “All because fucking Linda is going through another three day health kick.”

“And it just happens to be now,” you pout before both of you burst out laughing.

Seokjin is an okay guy. The two of you make stupid jokes, talk shit about coworkers, and sit together during lunch. He isn’t necessarily someone you are close to, but he is the only person at work you don’t want to verbally fillet.

The funniest part is, for some reason, most people think Seokjin and you are dating… but he is the gayest man you’ve ever met.

“Alright, everyone, grab one of the blue folders from Linda near the door and please take a seat around the table or facing the projector,” Kim Namjoon’s recognizable deep voice floating through the room makes both of you grimace.

“Want to go get some pizza after?” Seokjin whispers as he hands you a blue folder and leads the way to your normal meeting-seats at the back of the room. There are about forty people crammed into this space meant to comfortably fit twenty.

You’ve never understood why they can’t just move the pretentious, grandiose table so that half of the attendees don’t have to squish into chairs propped against the walls- or even better- simply hold the meeting in a different room. But of course this is working under the assumption that there is any logic whatsoever behind Kim Namjoon’s decision making skills in the first place.

“Definitely. Are we going to pretend to split it like last time or just order two pizzas to begin with-?”

“Hopefully everyone read the email,” Mr. Kim impatiently clears his throat, clasping his hands behind his back. “But for those that did not…”

For some reason, he uses a pregnant pause to glare directly at you and Seokjin.

“We will do a brief review.”

Yeah, because if you didn’t read the whole thing the first time, you’d certainly pay attention the second time around. Honestly you don’t even know how you still have a job at this point.

Seokjin said it was because no matter how much you irritated him, the “boss man” had a thing for you. Every time he suggested it, you thought you’d die of laughter. Kim Namjoon? Have a thing for you? He’s a spoiled mama’s boy who inherited a small yet ridiculously successful company when she decided to retire early. He probably had enough money to at least shallowly impress any girl he wanted.

Still, it would explain why you get away with so much crap…

Just as Mr. Kim finishes his overview of all the statistical mumbo jumbo you never pay attention to, the meeting room door bursts open with a sharp squeal. All eyes are on the man who enters, bronze hair bedraggled, black tie haphazardly loose, dress shirt untucked, and part of his left pant leg stuck under a sock that’s printed with multicolored beach balls.

“Sorry I’m late,” he laughs loudly, brushing a few crumbs off of his suit jacket before flinging it to rest over his shoulder, sleeves hitting Linda in the face.

If it’s possible to growl without audibly making a sound, Mr. Kim has mastered that expression, but he quickly regains his composure to say, “Mr. Jung, please grab a blue folder and join us.”

“Sure thing, Namjoon,” the guy laughs again, ignoring the surprised murmur that passes through the room after hearing him speak informally to the boss.

Even you, in your business casual blazer, pastel blue blouse, and slacks wouldn’t dare look or ACT with half as risky behavior. Honestly, you’re a little embarrassed for him, but also mildly impressed.

“Anyway, as I was saying before that little interruption, sales are down this quarter. This may have something to do with…” Mr. Kim’s voice fades to the back of your attention as you watch the man he called “Mr. Jung” take a seat across the room in one of the few empty chairs.

You’ve never seen him before, which is strange considering there are less than fifty employees in the company’s corporate office. You know everyone, whether you want to or not, so that fact that his face is unfamiliar is slightly off putting- but mostly intriguing.

“Jin, do you know that guy?” you elbow Seokjin lightly, whispering to avoid Mr. Kim’s wrathful gaze and nodding toward Mr. Jung.

“No idea kiddo, but he’s cute. Oh he’s looking over here!”

You flush, “Jin, shut up!”

“Mr. Seokjin, Ms. ____, do you have something to add?” Mr. Kim’s cold tone sends chills through your bones. Mr. Kim calls everyone by their surname except Seokjin, but both of you think it’s because they have the same one.

“Nope, sorry sir,” Seokjin bites his thumb nail, obviously holding back a laugh.

“We were just…” your gaze flicks to the powerpoint behind him. “Admiring your beautiful charts.”

“Exactly,” your companion nods. “The beautiful charts.”

Mr. Kim’s eyebrows rise and he scratches the back of his neck, “Oh, alright. As long as you’re paying attention.”

“How could I not?” you give him your best smile.

“Okay, well, thank you. Ah… anyway, we’re here today to discuss possible solutions. If you open the blue folder, you’ll see the results of a few hundred surveys…”

The scratching of a pen draws your attention to the side. You find Seokjin smirking down at his lap and the crude sketch of a ridiculously overweight, evil looking version of Mr. Kim with a speech bubble saying, “Blah the donuts.”

You attempt to swallow the giggle that rises in your throat, “You know he might want that paper back, right?”

Seokjin’s eyes get wide and he begins to lightly scribble over it. As he cleans up his mess, you can’t help but look across the room.

Mr. Jung’s attention flicks back and forth between the presentation and the folder in his lap, but he is anything but idle. His fingers deftly begin correcting his business attire, tucking in his shirt and fixing his tie. His pant leg, however, stays stuck inside the beachball themed sock.

“Wait! Did the boss man say Jung?” Seokjin whispers excitedly, jabbing an elbow into your ribs.

“Yeah?”

Your companion’s smile brightens by a few lumens, “Jung Hoseok.”

“Hoe-what?”

“Hoseok. He’s from a branch office.”

“Branch office?”

Seokjin sighs heavily as if you’d just asked him why round things rolled, “Do you read the memos at all?”

“No?”

“We just opened a new building, our biggest building yet, apparently. Jung Hoseok is the store manager.”

You glance back at the young man across the room. He can’t be more than twenty five years old and that’s a generous estimation. Store manager at such a young age? That’s almost as ridiculous as Mr. Kim being CEO at- wait.

“Jin, do you think they’re friends?”

“Who?”

“Mr. Kim and Mr. Jung.”

“Maybe. I mean, he did talk to the boss man rather informally.”

You glance at your companion for a moment as he shuffles the papers in his lap, but decide that watching Jung Hoseok is a lot more interesting. Your eyes sweep back across the room, only to lock gazes with him.

Heat floods your cheeks and your attention naturally swings sideways in embarrassment, landing rather conveniently on the presentation. Mr. Kim changes the powerpoint slide to reveal a cheesy, fancy card with the words “coffee break” in an irritatingly calligraphic font.

“Please consider these options while you mingle. We will begin discussion in ten minutes.”

What options? Had you missed something? Never mind, of course you did. You hadn’t listened since the meeting started thirty minutes ago.

Seokjin melts in his chair, “How fast do you think we could run to the vending machine to get Poptarts? Or do you think Linda screwed that up too? I’m starving and vegetables just aren’t gonna cut it.”

“Well if you decide to go, grab me a pack? I’ll pay,” a new voice takes the words right out of your mouth- though you’d never offer the reimbursement. Seokjin’s gaze lifts and a smile lights his expression.

You don’t even need to look to know who it is, namely because out of the corner of your eyes, you can see the beachballs.

“Sure thing, cutie,” Seokjin rises, only pausing long enough to whisper in your ear. “I’m telling you, he was looking over here and I’m pretty sure he was looking at you~”

“Jin!” you shove him away and he scurries toward the door, giggling.

A few moments of silence pass between you and Mr. Jung until he slowly, carefully takes a seat beside you, lips pursed playfully and eyes darting around with an air of innocence that almost makes it funny.

“So…” he practically hums. “Do you like Namjoon’s presentation so far?”

And there was that informality again. The prospect of them being friends unsettles you enough to make you watch your words.

“It’s alright. Very informative.”

Mr. Jung rolls his eyes, laughing, “Please, don’t lie. We’ve both been to funerals that were more entertaining.”

Is this a test? Your palms start to sweat, but you’re not sure if it’s because you’re suspicious or simply due to the fact that you’re sitting so close to an attractive person.

He looks at you expectantly, so you crack a nervous smile, “Mr. Jung-”

“Hoseok, please.”

“Hoseok,” a pleasant warmth spreads in your chest as you say his name. “Is that really something you should say about your boss? Especially since he’s right there?”

Both of you glance at Mr. Kim, who’s currently having a hushed argument with Linda near the untouched veggie plates.

“Eh, I’ve known the kid since he was in diapers. Expensive diapers, but still shitting his pants. There’s nothing he can say that’ll faze me,” Hoseok winks. “Granted, I was also shitting my pants at the time…”

This comment earns a laugh. But it also means they have been friends for a while.

“Really though. He’s boring. Too stiff.”

“Yeah, okay. He is,” you admit, crossing your arms and failing to suppress a smile.

Your companion brightens, “The man’s so boring, he can’t even wear a tie with fun colors. I tried to give him one with little suns with sunglasses on it. I thought it was cute, but I’m pretty sure he threw it away.”

“What? How could he do that to such a nice gift?” you bask in the blush that dusts across his cheeks, immense joy bubbling into your chest. “I’m sure he still has it somewhere, even if it’s deep in his closet.”

“Ah, erm, you think so?” hope sparkles in his eyes.

“Definitely. You’ve got wonderful taste. I mean, just look at your socks!”

He glows with the compliment and there’s something so genuinely innocent about his reactions that feels like a breath of fresh air, especially in the context of the rancid apathy you usually find in the business world.

“Thank you,” he coos. “I couldn’t decide between these and a pair with kittens today, but I guess I made the right choice.”

“I don’t know… what color were the kittens?”

Hoseok laughs, relived as soon as he understand you’re just teasing, “Orange.”

“Oh yeah, definitely beachballs. I think Mr. Kim might have had a stroke if you showed up with cute orange cats on your socks.”

“That’s so true!” he nods enthusiastically, but then takes in a shaky breath. “Right… Okay… Anyway, you seem to know my name. But I have no idea who you-”

“Mr. Jung, Ms. ____,” Mr. Kim’s stiff voice cuts Hoseok off. “It sounds like you two are getting along splendidly.”

“We’re having so much fun! At your expense of course,” Hoseok fires back humorously, but there is nothing playful in Mr. Kim’s returned expression. “Yah, Joon, lighten up. I’m kidding. Kind of. And how many times do I have to remind you to call me Hoseok? None of this ‘Mr. Jung’ stuff.”

“We’re in the office, Mr. Jung. We will address each other professionally.”

“Namjoon, I’ve seen you naked-”

“That was at a fraternity party five years ago and it was an accident,” Mr. Kim explodes, causing you to shrink into your seat.

Hoseok doesn’t even flinch, “Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t gonna show her the pictures.”

If a human had a boiling point, Mr. Kim had obviously just reached it. He looks about as red as a tomato and probably would’ve started yelling if it hadn’t been for the sudden arrival of a Poptart laden Seokjin.

“Alright gang, I’ve got s’mores, two strawberry, and blueberry for the boss man.”

Mr. Kim’s anger immediately fades like someone blew out a candle. His voice returns to its normal cool, collected nature, “That is very kind of you, Mr. Seokjin.”

And that’s when you realize. Namjoon doesn’t have a thing for you.

He has a thing for the person he must consider your best friend.

“My pleasure. Can’t have a hungry boss man while he’s presenting,” Seokjin says this through the forced smile of professionalism.

“I’ll take one of the strawberry packs. Thanks man,” Hoseok pulls a few bills out of his pocket, obviously more than twice what all the snacks cost. “Think you could go grab me one of those coffee bottles from the machine down the hall too?”

“But we’re about to start again,” Mr. Kim’s eyebrows knit in a mix of irritation and despair.

Hoseok taps his finger against his chin as if deep in thought, “Namjoon, you can go too. Make sure he doesn’t dally and all that.”

Seokjin looks like he’s about to protest; yet one look from you and he’s rolling his eyes, but nodding in what’s hopefully understanding. From your end, the message is clear: take Mr. Kim with you so I can be alone with Hoseok.

“Yeah, boss man,” Seokjin nods enthusiastically. “Maybe I’ll get us a coffee too.”

Mr. Kim clears his throat, “I guess I can’t argue with logic.”

In your visual periphery, you can see Linda approaching “Sir, we should probably-”

“Not now, Linda. I’m busy,” Mr. Kim shuts her down, much to her obvious surprise.

“But-”

“I’m busy. Break will be fifteen minutes.”

Seokjin gestures toward the door, “Shall we?”

Mr. Kim and your friend finally exit with a rather concerned Linda following a few steps behind. As soon as they’re out of earshot, Hoseok bursts out laughing, “I kind of feel bad for being an instigator, but at the same time… I totally don’t.”

This is the part in most fluff stories where things get cringy- if they haven’t already. Hoseok would tell you that he simply wanted to get you alone, away from Seokjin and Mr. Kim. He would flirt. You would flirt right back. You would exchange numbers and who knows? Maybe you’d take him up on that offer for a drink after the meeting instead of pizza with Seokjin. Maybe this fluff story would turn into smut.

But instead I’ll leave you here, simply alone with Hoseok, basking in the warmth of his smile and the joy of his laugh because all good things will eventually end. But this conclusion is, at least relatively, good.

✩✩✩♔✩✩✩

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#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #hoseok #hoseok fanfiction #hoseok fluff #business hoseok #hoseok au #jhope fanfiction #jhope fluff #jhope au #hobi fluff #bts one shot #hoseok x reader #reader x hoseok #jhope x reader #reader x jhope #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #namjin

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