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writinglizards · 3 years ago

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My Heart Just Knows

Sequel to Don’t Stop (I Can’t Turn the Feeling Off)

Summary: Jaskier pays Geralt a visit at his studio after a long day. Geralt makes it very good for them both.

Paring: Geralt/Jaskier Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smut, Dom/Sub play, use of the word ‘sir’, semi-public sex

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As their relationship progresses, there's...a slight change. Geralt texts more often, more openly. He tells Jaskier when he's having a bad day, when he's worried, when he's struggling with this, all of it, and he gives Jaskier the opportunity to connect to him, to reassure and explain. And in return, Jaskier does his best to be a little more manageable. He doesn't smother him in attention, doesn't text incessantly, or call, or make a general nuisance of himself. They're...they're finding a balance.

They go on a few more dates, little things that end in sweet kisses and sometimes a frantic fuck at either Geralt's apartment or Jaskier's house. It's good. It's good, and Jaskier's terrified of when and how it's going to end. He keeps telling himself that they both want this, that it's not likely Geralt's just going to break it off, suddenly tired of the attention that comes with Jaskier being a popstar after he’s had his fill of Jaskier's body. He's not...he's not like that, Jaskier knows. It doesn't make it easier to deal with, but texting Geralt about it does, so he continues to do that.

Bad day, Geralt texts him sometime shortly after 1 pm, you wanna meet up for dinner? I'll pay.

Sure. You thinking that Nilfggard place downtown again?

If that's what you want, yeah. Just wanna see you.

Jaskier's chest is tight as he reads over the words. "Hold still," Yen tells him, pinching his bare shoulder aggressively. He flinches, whining, and she smiles only a little meanly at him when their eyes meet in the mirror, "you can moon over Geralt later."

"Yenna--"

"No, don't you 'Yenna' me, Jaskier. Later. You've got another interview." He grumbles in response, shoving his phone between his thighs to eliminate the temptation of looking at the texts again. "And if this goes well enough, I'll cancel the 3 pm interview."

"Really, Yen?" he asks, sitting up a little straighter. Her smile softens just a little, goes a little more genuine around the edges.

"Mm. But only if this goes well. And that includes hair and makeup, you imbecile, so hold still." He does, smiling all the while. He knows she's offering to cancel the later interview so he can meet Geralt at his studio as he closes down for the evening. He also knows if he points that out she'll overload his schedule just to prove a point. It's practically a game.

The interview goes well enough, and Yen scowls only a little when he comes back to the hair and makeup room with his best pout in place.

"Yenna--"

"Oh, shut up, for Melitele's sake. I already canceled," she says before he can even ask, and he can feel the smile on his face, stretched so wide it hurts.

"You're the best, Yen."

"I'm aware," she says primly, "now sit back down. We've got a meeting to catch in an hour and you can't wear stage makeup to it."

By the time she drops him off at Geralt's studio building, he's exhausted, but looking forward to it. They haven't talked much since setting up dinner tonight, and Jaskier's hopeful Geralt will want to take him home (or let Jaskier take him home). It's...it's been a while since they've gotten off together, although they've seen each other plenty. And they haven't fucked in even longer.

He rides the elevator up, shifting from foot to foot anxiously until the doors snick open on the correct floor. He ducks into the office less than a minute later and is delighted to find Aiden at his desk with Lambert in his lap, very obviously making out.

"Hello darlings."

"Son of a--fuck," Lambert yelps, tumbling out of Aiden's lap and directly onto the floor. Aiden fumbles a hand out to catch him but he's laughing and he's not much help.

"It's been a good day for everyone, I see."

"Hi Jaskier," Aiden smiles, helping Lambert up who shakes off his hands immediately, glowering.

"Listen, popstar--" he starts in, aiming for intimidating, but the effect is diminished by the way Aiden melts behind him, smile soft and fond, "--Geralt doesn't know. You can't--"

"Can't say anything? My lips are sealed." He mimes pulling a zipper closed in front of his mouth and Lambert fumbles to a stop, confused.

"...Really?"

"Really. It's not my place to go blowing your big secret, dear." He winks over Lambert's shoulder at Aiden, who erupts into snickers, a hand clamped over his mouth.

"And what do you think is so funny, kitten?"

"I--I just--" he has to pause to breathe, to calm himself down, "We've been dating three years and Jaskier's been dating Geralt two months and he already knows. Lambert--"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," he grumbles, but even he's grinning a little now.

"Am I missing something here?"

"It's a secret only from Geralt," Aiden tells him helpfully, "everyone else knows."

"Ah." That's... "is there any particular reason?" he asks. Lambert shrugs and Aiden grins broadly.

"Geralt told Lambert not to harass me two days after we started dating and it was just...too funny to correct." Lambert snorts a laugh and Aiden's grin softens as their gazes catch and hold, "And here we are."

Jaskier's chest tightens watching them. It's clear they care about each other, clear they love each other, and he's...he's happy for them, he is. He just hopes...

"Aiden, when's that next appointment?" Geralt's voice calls from somewhere in the workroom, making Jaskier jump and Aiden roll his eyes.

"He canceled," he hollers back, dragging Lambert back down into his lap with a grin, "you're cleared for the day." There's a vague rumble of assent from the other room as Lambert beams and twists back to press a kiss to Aiden's throat, swinging a leg over the armrest of the chair to lounge back in his lap, Aiden's arms around his waist, his back to Aiden's chest.

"You aren't afraid he'll walk in and catch you?" Jaskier asks, and Lambert laughs.

"Pretty boy's real focused at work, popstar," he grins, "why, I've--"

"Okay," Aiden laughs, slapping a hand across Lambert's mouth, "no lurid details, thanks." Jaskier can't help but laugh.

"Ask me again when princess isn't here," Lambert grins, elbowing Aiden playfully. Aiden slaps at his chest vaguely.

"Behave."

"I always behave, kitten."

"Mm, no, you don't," he says, but he still presses a kiss to Lambert's cheek, "now are you gonna let me work or are you gonna have to go sit in the car until I can get off early to pick puppy up from daycare?"

"Fuck you," he mutters, cheeks tinged pink, and Jaskier bites back a laugh. Ah. So that's what that means.

"Do you think he'd mind if I--" he trails off, gesturing vaguely toward the back room, and Aiden refocuses on Jaskier, smiling.

"Nah, go right ahead. I'll shout before anyone comes in, no worries." The wink he sends Jaskier implies he knows very well what they've gotten up to in the past. Jaskier fights down the blush burning in his cheeks as he steps through the door.

Geralt's stitching together an outfit across the room at one of the large, industrial sewing machines, humming softly under his breath. It's a tune Jaskier recognizes, one of his songs.

"Aiden?" Geralt asks, not turning to look, and Jaskier's chest aches with how much he loves him, this quiet, attentive man.

"Try again, love," he says softly, and Geralt swears. Jaskier laughs as he pulls the fabric away from the machine and snatches up a stitch ripper.

"Couldn't have waited another fucking minute, could you?" he grouses, "you ruined my seam."

"Mm, I'm sure you can fix it," Jaskier grins, crossing the room to press up behind him, drop his chin onto Geralt's shoulder, "I believe in your very capable skills, darling."

Geralt grumbles irritably, but he also turns to kiss Jaskier sweetly, so he can't actually be that mad.

"What are you doing here so early?"

"Good boys get their last interview of the day canceled so they can come visit their very important other half," he murmurs, kissing along Geralt's throat, "and I've been such a good boy, sir."

"You want me to put you in your place?" Geralt asks, and it sends a shock of heat straight to Jaskier's core. He'd just been teasing. They haven't...Geralt's not really interested in dominating and Jaskier hasn't slipped on him since that last time with the dildo. The thought of it--

"Don't tease me, love," he murmurs, kissing Geralt's throat again as he pulls away. He twists to look at him, expression thoughtful.

"I'm not."

"Geralt. I know you don't...you don't like that."

Geralt twists, getting his hands around Jaskier's waist and tugging him forward, thumbs pressing into the jut of his hipbones just above the waistband of his trousers, "It doesn't do anything for me, but I--you like it. And I like to see you feel good." It sends a shiver down his spine.

"Aiden's in the other room," he whispers, but it sounds like a weak protest even to his own ears.

"And my last appointment canceled. Aiden won't come back here because he doesn't want me to give him any extra work." He says it matter-of-factly, but he's not pressing, just...offering.

"What about dinner?"

"We can get something after, if you want," he murmurs, pressing his lips to bare skin peeking from the deep v of Jaskier's shirt. He sinks his fingers into Geralt's hair, petting gently.

"Will you take me home afterward?" He's...a little nervous about...about after. He doesn't play as a sub often for a number of reasons, one of which being his sub drop can be...bad. Most people don't want to deal with that.

"Of course," Geralt hums, lips barely brushing his skin, "whatever you need from me, Jask," and that's...

"Please," he gasps, tightening his grip in Geralt's hair, "sir, please."

Geralt breathes out quietly for a moment, and then his shoulders straighten as he pulls away. Jaskier lets him go.

"Go kneel by the couches. Don't touch anything, yourself included. If you're very good, I'll take care of you after I've fixed the problem you caused. Understood?"

Jaskier swallows hard and nods. Geralt just raises an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Go sit."

Jaskier feels a little thrill go through him as he crosses the room, settling down on his knees by the client couch. Geralt watches him critically until he's settled and then he nods, more to himself than to Jaskier, and resumes his work on the sewing machine.

It's a unique thrill, to be on the other end of their play, to have Geralt ignore him. He's already hard and aching in his trousers and watching the curve of Geralt's shoulders as he works is only getting him more wound up. He shifts, biting back a whine, and the sound of the sewing machine stops.

"Do we have a problem over there?" Geralt asks, tone severe, and his stomach clenches so hard it almost hurts.

"N-no, sir," he mumbles, forcing himself to stillness. His hands settle on his thighs and he squeezes sharply, trying to calm himself down. Geralt stares at him for another long minute before he turns back to his work. Jaskier lets out a breath.

He closes his eyes and focuses on the slow rush of breath in his lungs, the easy inhale, exhale pattern. He tries to focus on that rather than the burning under his skin, his own arousal. At some point, every exhale becomes a whine, but he's so far gone he doesn't notice until Geralt snaps at him.

"Can you be quiet?" he asks, and when Jaskier's eyes snap open, he's not even looking at him. He whines again, louder, unable to help himself. "Answer the question, Jaskier."

"N-no," he admits, and something in him roils to admit that he can't be good enough for him, can't--

"You need help?" Geralt asks, tone a little softer, and Jaskier sobs, nodding.

"Please."

Geralt sighs, a long, slow exhale, and then he's standing. He pauses to scoop something up from a nearby table before approaching Jaskier.

"Will this work?" he asks, presenting a scrap of fabric for Jaskier's approval. It's soft and silky from the looks of it, and Jaskier nods, tilting his head back and letting his mouth fall open as if to take Geralt's cock. Geralt groans.

"Cheeky," he mumbles, thumb pressing temptingly against his bottom lip, "misbehave and cause distractions and still think you deserve my cock in your mouth." He takes the cloth and winds it tight before shoving the fabric gently between Jaskier's teeth.

He moans as the fabric presses against his tongue, soft and silky like he knew it would be. Geralt stretches the ends of it back behind his head and tips his head down with one hand, knotting the fabric tightly but not so tightly it causes undue stress on his jaw.

"How's it feel?" Geralt asks, "nod if good, shake your head if it needs adjustment." Jaskier hardly waits for the question to be out of Geralt's mouth before he's nodding, tongue pressing against the fabric as he works his jaw testingly. There's a little give, but not too much. It's perfect.

"Good," Geralt says fingers settling on the hinge of Jaskier's jaw and digging in just a little, "you stay quiet and let me finish my work, and then we'll see what you've earned." Without another word, he turns and crosses back to his sewing machine. Jaskier could cry.

He tries to be good, but it's so fucking difficult. He's hot and hard in his trousers and Geralt looks so good, shoulders pulling the fabric of his shirt tight across his back as he bends over the sewing machine and Jaskier whines around the gag.

Geralt starts humming again and Jaskier forces himself to focus on that--the pleasant melody of it, the way it makes his chest tight with fondness. He lets himself get lost in the sound, and when the sewing machine stops humming, he doesn't even notice.

"Jaskier?" Geralt's voice is soft and his fingers along his jaw are gentle. He can't remember closing his eyes, but opening them takes an enormous effort. "Good?"

"Hmmph," he mumbles through the gag. His tongue feels thick, his thoughts syrupy. He's not sure when he slipped into subspace but it's...pleasant. To put it mildly.

"Will you behave if I remove the gag?"

"Mmph."

"Alright," he says, as if Jaskier had answered with something intelligible. His fingers shift gently through Jaskier's hair before unknotting the fabric and easing the gag, damp with saliva, from between his teeth.

He gives him a minute to work the stiffness from his jaw, one hand cupping his face gently as he does so almost automatically. His half-lidded eyes are locked on the clothed cock not a foot from his face and it makes his mouth water to think of getting his lips around it. He hopes Geralt thinks he's been well behaved enough to let him suck him off.

"Color?" he asks, and it's so hard to make words work, but--

"Green," he rasps out, voice wrecked. Geralt hums.

"You were very good after the gag. Do you think you deserve my cock?" he asks conversationally, and Jaskier sways forward without really meaning, cheek pressed to the front of his trousers, "Answer me, Jaskier."

He rubs his face against the firm bulge of him, like a cat, moaning. He can't do much else.

"In your mouth?" he asks, voice low, and Jaskier moans again, soft and shaky. Geralt hums in response.

He doesn't say anything, just unbuttons his slacks, holding Jaskier back with one hand in his hair as he works them down his hips enough to pull his cock free.

Jaskier moans again, mouth falling open when Geralt rubs the head across his slightly parted lips, one hand around the base of his cock and the other still tight in Jaskier's hair. Distantly, he knows what comes next, but right now all he can process is the slick of precome on his lips and cheeks. His tongue flicks out to lick the taste from his lips. Geralt groans.

"You're so pretty on your knees, sweetheart," Geralt says, and it ignites something hot in Jaskier's gut, something ravenous. Geralt uses endearments so rarely. To hear it now lights him from the inside and Jaskier shivers with it. "You going to be good and let me fuck that sweet little mouth now?"

"Please," he rasps, barely loud enough to be heard, but Geralt makes a soft noise.

"Good boy," he breathes, and Jaskier chokes, gut clenching tight, "hands on my thighs. Don't want you tempted to touch yourself." He whines softly, but follows the directions, digging his fingers into the soft fabric of his slacks and bunching them under his hands.

As soon as he does, Geralt presses forward and Jaskier's jaw falls farther open, his length sinking between Jaskier's lips.

"Fuck," Geralt sighs. He stops about halfway and Jaskier mumbles incoherently in protest as he pulls backward before thrusting forward again, only a little deeper. "You feel so good, Jask."

He does his best to be good for him, tonguing along the length and sucking at the head as he pulls back, but it's hard to be present enough to do a good job. Mostly he just lets his jaw go slack as he whines around his length, lets his mouth and throat be used as Geralt presses in until he bottoms out, Jaskier's nose pressed to his pubic bone and buried in coarse white curls.

"Your throat's so tight," he groans above him, working his hips in short little circles as he bumps against the back of his throat. Jaskier's gone lax--he can feel the fullness, but it's only distantly uncomfortable. His fingers flex in the fabric of Geralt's trousers and his dick pulses hotly and he just...floats.

"You want me to come down your throat?" Geralt asks, breathless, and Jaskier whines, unable to respond. He does, he does, but-- "Words, Jaskier."

Geralt tugs him off his length, the red, swollen head of his cock bobbing enticingly before his lips as he pops free of Jaskier's mouth. He's enraptured with the slickness of it, the way precome beads needily at the head, the string of saliva still connecting his swollen lips to the plumpness of him.

"Words, Jaskier," Geralt repeats, tone severe, and it breaks him out of it, just a little.

He glances up at him through his eyelashes, mouth hanging open. His dick aches and his throat aches and he wants so badly for Geralt to find his pleasure in using him--wants to be good.

"Please," he forces out, "come down my throat, sir."

It's all the encouragement Geralt needs. He growls roughly as he shoves his dick back between Jaskier's lips, and Jaskier sucks and laves greedily at him, desperate to feel his release hit the back of his throat.

"Not gonna be long," Geralt warns, voice rough, and Jaskier moans brokenly, fingers tightening in his trouser fabric again.

Geralt shoves his hips against Jaskier's face twice, three times, before spilling. It's messy and thick and more than he was expecting--he chokes a little even as Geralt pulls back, gives him room to swallow.

"Shh," he's soothing, grip gone gentle in Jaskier's hair, "I know, 'm sorry, sweetheart. Swallow, love, you're fine."

Geralt's thick fingers wipe the tears from his eyes, the ones he didn't know were there, as he swallows, panting roughly.

"You did so well, Jaskier," he murmurs when Jaskier's mouth is empty again, breath rasping in his lungs, "so good for me, thank you, sweet." He shivers.

They don't move for several moments. Geralt guides Jaskier's forehead to his hip, lets him rest his head there as he catches his breath and presumably decides what to do with him. He's so hard it's painful and he can barely breathe for how badly he wants Geralt to finish him off.

Despite that, he's also aching for Geralt to deny him, to tell him he was good but not good enough, to have him sit, ignored and untouched, until his arousal dies, until he's no longer burning for it.

"How should I reward my good boy?" Geralt asks, fingers carding gently through Jaskier's hair, and he can't help but whine. Maybe someday he'll tell Geralt about how badly he wants to be denied, but right now-- "what do you want, Jaskier?"

"Wanna get off," he slurs, voice wrecked. He hardly sounds like himself.

"Do you deserve for me to jerk you off, or should I let you rub against me instead?" he asks, and the thought of that, of not being given what he really wants--

"Please," he mumbles, unable to give voice to it, "please, sir."

"You'd like that?" Geralt asks, tone conversational. Of course he knows Jaskier would like that--they've talked a little about his need for denial, talked about how hot he gets for humiliation. Geralt obviously doesn't know quite the extent of it and Jaskier had thought Geralt was choosing to go easy on him. Now he knows he's just playing the game.

Geralt steps back, settling on the client couch, and widens his thighs. Instinctively, Jaskier shuffles forward to press between them before Geralt hauls him up to straddle his thigh, knees resting on either side. He threads Jaskier's arms around his neck and Jaskier shakes with his effort to hold still.

"You don't touch yourself," Geralt says softly, "you keep your hands around my neck. I'll touch you if I want. You can move, but you're going to come in your pants, understand?"

The shivers trembling up his spine intensify and he nods, hiding his face against his arm and Geralt's neck. "Yes, sir."

"Good," he says, palms settling on Jaskier's hips, "get going, then."

Geralt's hands fall to rest on the swell of his hips, just holding, and Jaskier has to encourage himself into movement, rocking forward gently. Geralt doesn't reprimand his speed or give him directions, so he closes his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to bite back a whine. He doesn't want to upset Geralt, wants to be good, wants--

"Hey," Geralt whispers, lips brushing Jaskier's temple, just a gentle graze, "follow what your body wants, Jaskier. There's no rules here." It's exactly what he needed to hear and he whines openly when Geralt encourages him to move faster, to chase that white-hot feeling burning in his gut.

He snaps his hips forward, grinding his cock along the press of Geralt's thigh, shifts to grind harder up against his stomach for a minute before resettling along his thigh, panting hard.

"There you go, Jaskier," he breathes, squeezing his hips gently, and Jaskier could cry for how good it feels, "good job, sweetheart, just take what you need."

"'M close," he gasps out, twisting his face to press his lips to Geralt's cheek. He hadn't been asked to kiss him and he hadn't been told it wasn't allowed, so--

"Yeah? Come on, Jask, what do you need?"

"You," he sobs out, and Geralt turns to meet his lips with his own, kissing him slow and sweet as Jaskier grinds hard against his thigh and comes in his pants, shaking and gasping into the kiss.

He rides out the feeling with shocky little rocks of his hips, eyelids fluttering, and Geralt holds him through it, palms sliding up his back and then back down, even and controlled. It's grounding and it's exactly what he needs to force himself back into control, to pull himself out of the fog of needy subspace he'd fallen into.

When he pulls back, finally, Geralt's watching his face closely before he breaks into a soft smile. "There you are," he says, voice soft and reverent, "how was it, Jask?"

"Good," he says. The word is inadequate to describe the way his entire body feels light and fuzzy, the wave of tiredness suddenly tugging his eyelids down. Geralt smiles.

"Yeah, I bet," he leans forward to kiss him, quick, "I was...okay?" Oh. Oh.

"You were perfect, love," he says, because it's true, "thank you. I wouldn't...I wouldn't trust just anyone to dom for me anymore. You did a very good job." Geralt doesn't respond outwardly with more than a nod, but Jaskier can see the way the praise lights him up from the inside, the way his smile pulls a little wider, eyes crinkling just a little more at the corners.

"Thank you, I'm...not as comfortable. Domming." Jaskier knows. They've talked about it, a little bit, about how Geralt doesn't really get the idea of finding pleasure in the power. "This was...good," he says haltingly, and Jaskier perks up.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he affirms, before ducking his head, blush spreading up his cheeks, "I...liked seeing you take your pleasure...because of me." Ah.

"You just love to spoil me," Jaskier mumbles, cupping his face and leaning forward to kiss him, soft and sweet, "no matter what role you take. My good boy."

"Ah--" Geralt makes a soft noise at the praise, pressing into Jaskier's kiss for one quick, heated moment before he pulls away, "we should...uh. We should go. I could take you home?" Geralt asks, voice low.

"Sounds like a plan, darling," Jaskier can't help but grin. His pants are sticky and uncomfortable, come rapidly cooling, and he's not looking forward to the walk back to the car, but--

"Here," Geralt says, pulling away to move to the other end of the room and rifle through a set of drawers, "go change." It's a simple skirt, colorful but not flashy, and Jaskier can tell just from looking at it that it's his size. His heart skips, chest tightening.

"You made this for me?"

"Mm," he's not looking at him, "I did." Jaskier laughs breathlessly and he feels...so light.

They leave the studio a few minutes later, Jaskier's soiled pants in a bag. In the front office, Aiden's behind his desk and Lambert's across the room in one of the waiting chairs. Interestingly, his hair is mussed and his shirt buttons are a little off.

"Lambert, don't harass my employee," Geralt burrs, tugging Jaskier after him, their arms linked, "Aiden, you can go home early, whenever you're ready."

"Will do, boss man. Thanks!" He catches Jaskier's eye and fucking winks.

He doesn't say anything about it until they're in the elevator.

"So Aiden and Lambert," he starts, not intending to give away their game but just...prod Geralt's own assumptions (he's not sure how Geralt doesn't know they're fucking, honestly) but Geralt breaks him off with a groan.

"Aiden and Lambert are...weird. Especially together. It's best not to think too hard about it," Geralt says, and Jaskier's lips twitch. They're in for a long con, alright. "So, my place or yours?"

"Mine," Jaskier purrs, leaning up to nip Geralt's jaw. Beneath his lips, Geralt shivers, "we haven't got to use my bed yet."

#witcher #witcher fic #geraskier #lizard writes #rating: explict #everyone pretend i did not blow way past when i promised this one lmao whoops #its been a crazy two weeks yall

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hanniiesuckle17 · 5 years ago

Text

Lover, Lover, Set Me Free...

A/n: I hope you like this! It’s been a while since I’ve written something like this! (not fully edited only partially edited) also i totally did not pull an all nighter to finish this hahaha.......

Requested by: @hannie-squirrel00 (thank you for requesting lovely! Sry it took a while! I wanted to do it right! <3)

Warnings: cussing, slightly 18+ themes, POV switching

Word Count: 13k

Summary: Jisung is one of the biggest players on campus. When Hyunjin bets him that he can’t get into the coldest girl on campus’s pants, Y/n gets unknowingly thrown into the ordeal. While doing his best, Jisung unconsciously starts to fall for this girl who means more to him that he is willing to admit to anyone- even himself.

Genre: Romance, angst, fluff, college!au, fuckboy!jisung, badboy!jisung, non-idol au

❁

When did university become a popularity contest? Wasn’t the whole point to come and learn? Instead, I’m fighting tooth and nail to get a spot in the costuming program with bitches who don’t even know how to sew on a damn zipper. My hard work is being looked over while girls making googly eyes at my professor get top priority in class.

“Y/n, if you aren’t careful you’re gonna sew your finger to your garment again.” My best friend, Felix, said next to me. I shook myself out of my trance and sighed, turning off my sewing machine and running a hand through my hair.

“Sorry, my head is just somewhere else.”

Felix scoffed next to me as he focused on hemming a lavender-colored slip. “I’d be spacy too if I hadn’t gotten laid in a year.” He nudged my shoulder making me laugh.

“I’m sorry that I don’t need to have an active sex drive to get work done. Besides, guys are a waste of time.”

“I strongly disagree with that last statement.”

Felix smirked and pulled his garment off the machine. Despite many girls pining after him, it was quite obvious Felix was into guys. Well...obvious to everyone except the girls who kept buying him vodka martinis when we went out to drink.

“Seungmin and I were gonna go out for drinks. You wanna come?” My best friend said packing up his stuff. I looked back at the dress I was sewing, then Felix. He was pulling his best puppy dog eyes on me.

“I will go tonight if you help me put boning in two corsets tomorrow.”

Felix grimaced. But I knew he would rather have a drinking buddy than have Seungmin leave him at the bar shitfaced. “Fine. But the first drink is on you.” I smiled and packed up my stuff, taking the garment with me. I could work on it back in my dorm tomorrow.

Felix happily dragged me out of the theatre department building and to the most popular campus bar on a Friday night. Seungmin was already seated at the bar nursing a beer when we arrived. Several people greeted Felix as we pushed through the crowded pub. “If it isn’t the famous Arctic Bitch!” I scowled hearing the name. Apparently, I had given myself quite a reputation without even trying.

Seungmin didn’t mean any harm by saying it. He just liked to poke fun at me. I bought Felix his first drink and the three of us shouted at each other over the loud music and voices in the bar. “Why is it so crowded tonight?” I shouted, frowning as someone elbowed me.

“Apparently, 3RACHA decided to show up a couple hours ago.”

“WHAT? I call dibs on Changbin!” Felix shouted, his eyes going wide. I rolled my eyes and stole a sip from Seungmin’s beer. I could honestly care less about those three bullheaded bone-driven music majors. I didn’t really see the appeal. So, instead, I steered the conversation away so I could in fact enjoy my night.

❁

Third POV

Han Jisung smirked as he watched the girl whose name he honestly couldn’t remember walk away back to her friends. He looked down at the number she had written on his wrist. He was in the middle of deciding whether or not he actually wanted to call her when a voice called to him.

“Han stop flirting with random girls and come actually spend time with your friends!”

Chan motioned him over back to the booth that his three friends sat in. Hyunjin scoffed and took another drink from his gin and tonic.

“Do you really have to do that?” Changbin asked, downing the rest of his drink.

“What?”

“Bone everything that moves.”

“Please. Han is not as good as he thinks he is.” Hyunjin said, slapping Jisung on the shoulder. Jisung glared at his friend. He and Hyunjin bickered, but Hyunjin didn’t usually bring out the big punches like that.

“Oh yeah? I can get any girl in this bar to sleep with me.”

“You really wanna do this?”

“Yes. Give me your best shot.”

Chan sighed, his hands covering his face. “Guys, don’t do this. I like this bar. Don’t kill the bar. I wanna come back here.” Changbin chuckled, enjoying the situation as he nursed his second cocktail. Jisung watched with a smirk as Hyunjin looked over all the girls in the bar. His grin stayed strong when Hyunjin turned back to him with a smile.

“You, sir, are in luck. Guess who I spotted at the bar?” Hyunjin quipped.

“Your mom.” Han held his hand up to Changbin for a high five, and the boy reluctantly complied.

“I challenge you to get Seoul University’s Arctic Bitch to sleep with you,” Hyunjin said pointing to the bar. Jisung followed Hyunijn’s direction and looked across the bar. His eyes fell on a girl with h/c hair and a stern expression on her face as she stole a sip from her friend’s beer. She wasn’t the hottest girl he had ever seen, but her ass wasn’t half bad.

“Challenge accepted.” Han moved to get up from the booth, but Hyunjin stopped him once more.

“Hold up big boy. You’ve gotta give me proof too.”

“What kind of proof?”

“I don’t know. Picture, video, something like that. I’ve gotta know it’s her and not one of the random sluts you usually hook up with.”

Han thought about it for a minute. He glanced over at Chan who shook his head solemnly. Of course, Chan would be against this. “Fine. What do I get if I win?” Jisung stated, shaking Hyunjin’s hand. Hyunjin thought for a minute.

“If you get her to sleep with you AND get proof- I’ll give you $1500.”

The other boys’ eyes went wide. Fifteen hundred dollars? Han started daydreaming about the new monitors he could get for his computer and the new sound system for his home studio. Plus that could go to paying off some of his student debt because God knows his parents weren’t gonna pay for this expensive college. “Oh, you got a deal!” Jisung glanced back over at the girl by the bar. This would be a piece of cake.

“If you can’t get Y/n to sleep with you...you have to go to graduation dressed in full lingerie. And heels.”

Chan and Changbin laughed, calling attention over to the boys for a moment. He had already agreed so there was no way he could back out of this. “Deal. I can’t wait to get my 1.5k!” Jisung smirked and poured himself another shot of soju before downing it like it was water. With a salute to his friends, the brunette haired boy crossed the bar to complete his challenge.

No way he would need three months to complete this.

❁

Y/n’s POV

We had been at the bar for only an hour and a half and Felix had already had three drinks, one of which was paid for by a very pretty- but not so observant- girl. It was kind of funny to watch him tipsily argue with Seungmin over who was the better role in our university’s musical, Chicago: Roxie or Velma.

“Fuck you, Min! Velma is a boss ass bitch in thigh highs! Whatcha gonna do about it, BRO?”

“Lix, drink some water,” I said, pushing my water towards my best friend. He pulled the drunk move and took the tiniest sip before turning back to his word assault against our other friend. Seungmin was only slightly more sober, but still argued with passion for his girl Roxie. Suddenly, there was a tap on my shoulder.

“Hey, you’re....Y/n, right? Lemme buy you a drink.”

My eyes raked over the boy in front of me. His brown hair brushed over the corner of his forehead and his eyes had a mischievous glint to them. A confident smirk played on his lips as his hand ghosted over my waist, before turning to the bar and back to me.

“What’s your poison? Cosmopolitan, right?”

“Actually, I’ll take a Godfather.”

I stifled a laugh at the near microscopic flash of surprise on his face. He quickly regained his cocky composure and looked me up and down. “Whiskey. A girl after my own heart.” While he turned to the bartender and ordered my drink I took the opportunity to turn back to my friends and roll my eyes. But, to my surprise, Felix was standing slack-jawed behind me staring at the guy attempting to flirt with me, his argument with Seungmin forgotten.

“Sorry, who are you and why should I care you like whiskey?”

The shock was evident on his face as he turned back to me. He blinked a few times before looking around the bar in confusion. “You don’t know who I am?” He scoffed when I shook my head. The bartender handed me my drink as well as a jack and coke for the boy next to me. “This might be harder than I thought,” he muttered under his breath before taking a large sip from his drink. I was driving so this would probably be my one and only drink for the night. “I’m Han Jisung. I’m one of the rappers in 3RACHA.”

“Ah....that explains the air of entitlement.”

He sighed and took another swig of his drink, leaning on the bar. I was starting to get frustrated; I came to have fun with my two friends, not get hit on by some cocky asshole. “Look Jinyoung-”

“Jisung.”

“Right. Whatever. I came to have fun with my friends. So, thanks for the drink. Why don’t you just call...Mina,” I said reading the name on his arm written in girly handwriting. “Cause she already seems interested in your deal. But, I’m not so.....bye!”

Without another word, I turned around and returned to my friends, who were speechless. I couldn’t help but watch their eyes track Jisung’s form all the way back to the booth with the rest of his friends who could be heard laughing- most likely at him- from all the way across the bar.

“You just shot down the second hottest guy on campus.”

“Second hottest?”

“Yeah, have you seen his friend Chan? Boy’s got abs like a washboard.”

I could practically see Felix’s mouth start to water. “Keep it in your pants, bud.” Seungmin laughed at my comment and threw an arm lazily around my shoulder. “Min, are you drunk already?” He just giggled and started poking my cheeks. I downed the rest of my drink and let Seungmin rest his head on my shoulder.

“Come on, dummies. Let’s go home.” Felix followed me out of the bar as I carried Seungmin to my car. I was pretty sure I heard cheers behind me as I opened the door, when I turned I saw Felix twirling his shirt over his head and dancing with some random guy near the exit.

“FELIX!”

He whined as I dragged him away from the guy he was dancing with. “Noooooooooooo! He was so sweet!” I laughed and strapped my best friend into the car safely. Tonight was certainly not what I had expected.

❁

A car horn blaring outside my window sent me shooting up in bed. My hair stuck up in ungodly directions. Yet another night of restless sleep.

I rubbed my eyes and checked the time. About nine in the morning. No matter how early I went to bed I never seemed to get a good night’s rest.

Lazily I rolled out of bed and slipped on some shorts. My tired body shuffled into the dorm living room. I laughed seeing Seungmin half falling off my couch, asleep; it wasn’t uncommon for him to crash at my dorm after having a few drinks. My roommate didn’t really mind seeing as she had quite the little crush on him.

Speaking of, the sound of her door opening caught my attention. “Morning Lia,” I whispered. She started to speak but covered her mouth when she saw Seungmin passed out on the couch. “You want some tea?” I asked, setting a kettle on one of the burners. She nodded, sitting down and crossing her long legs on one of the kitchen stools.

Lia was maybe a year older than me and also a theatre major with a focus in performance. She had landed the lead in many of our university productions including our current musical, Chicago.

“So, Seungmin was in quite the heated argument last night.” My dormmate’s eyes widened at the mention of the boy’s name. “He was quite adamant on making Lix understand that Roxie was the greatest lead in the show.” A dark tint rose to her cheeks as she glanced at the sleeping hungover boy on our couch. Lia was playing Roxie in our production this year.

“He probably just likes the character.”

I rose a brow and handed her a mug of tea, before sipping on my own. “Sure, he does. Because our techie Seungmin just adores the motivations of a starstruck murderess.” Somehow her cheeks grew even darker.

“I have to go work in the Shop today, could you watch him while I’m gone?” She nodded with a small smile. The Shop was what we called the costume and scene shop. Basically, the backstage tech work area was the Shop.

After finishing our tea, we parted ways and got ready for the day. I slipped on my favorite sweatpants and threw on a semi-clean crop top. Feeling a little chilly, I threw on the matching grey jacket hanging on my desk chair. After fighting with my hair for ten minutes I gave up and started packing my backpack with things I needed for the day.

I groaned looking over at the corner of my room; I’d forgotten to take four rolls of rather expensive and custom fabric to the workroom yesterday, so I had to do it today. Gathering the fabric up in my arms, I headed out.

The sidewalks were practically empty as I crossed campus on my way to the Arts part of the university. My knee pushed up a slipping fabric roll before I continued my walk, pace quickening as I saw the auditorium building up ahead. Finally, I would be able to set these down soon.

“Ahh!”

My foot caught on a crack on the sidewalk and fabric unrolled and went flying through the air. I scraped my hands against the pavement bracing my fall. Slowly I sat up and looked at my palms. They were red, some of the scrapes breaking the skin.

“Fuck. Really?”

With a groan, I reached for the nearest roll and checked the material. Thankfully the black silk was still intact and not ruined. Carefully I started the process of re-rolling it, wincing at the rawness on my hands.

“Need any help?” A voice spoke beside me. Before I could respond, the person knelt down and started rolling up another length of red material. I scoffed seeing who the voice belonged to. It was Jisung, from the bar last night.

“I’ve got it.”

“I just saw you hardcore face plant. I don’t think you’ve ‘got it’.”

He laughed at my scowl and continued to help pick up the fabric I had dropped. As I began standing up, he grabbed my hand. “What the hell dude?” I said, pulling away from his grasp.

“Woah. Chill! You scraped your hand. I’m just trying to help.”

He tucked the rolls under his arm and unzipped a pocket in his backpack, bringing out bandaids and some antiseptic spray. I eyed him warily, but let him take my hand again. He glanced up at my eyes, gauging my expression before continuing to uncap the spray.

“This will sting a little.”

“Tsk. I’ve sewed through my finger, I think I can handle- AHHH OW! FUCK!”

He laughed, his eyes turning into happy crescent moons. I had to admit he had a nice smile. Then again, how many times had that smile gotten him into the pants of half the female student body?

I watched as he opened up two bandaids, gently laid them over my palm, and covered the scrapes. When they were secure, he looked back up at me with that cocky smirk.

“Want me to kiss it better?”

I rolled my eyes and yanked my hand away. “Anyway, Jiwon-”

“Jisung.”

His brows furrowed in frustration but he quickly plastered on a more than fake smile. It was honestly kind of fun messing with him; he was so used to being treated like some kind of sex god it seemed he had forgotten what it was like to be a normal human being like the rest of us. “Thanks for the help. I’m gonna go now.”

“Hey! Wait! That’s not how you thank someone.” Jisung said, grabbing back the two rolls of fabric in his arms as I tried to take them.

“Oh? And how do you propose I thank you?”

He smirked and looked me up and down. His hand ran through his brown locks as his tongue ghosted over his lips. “Well, I mean...” He shrugged as if the thought was just occurring to him. “I can think of a few ways you could return the favor.”

“Your genitals don’t come with a built-in bulletproof shield, so you better watch yourself, fuckboy.”

Jisung visibly gulped and slowly shifted the fabric rolls in front of his waist. I almost smirked seeing the brief look of fear for his manhood; he shivered under my stare and then regained his composure. “Man, they don’t call you the Arctic Bitch for nothing.”

My face fell and I ran a hand through my hair. “Look, I’ve got work to do, corsets to make, and I have to figure out how to sew rhinestones onto a lavalier.” Jisung seemed to take notice of my change in demeanor.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Well, you’d be pretty offended if I called you a man whore. Same shit.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” He scuffed his shoe on the sidewalk and played with the edge of one of the rolls. Just because I would rather get through my insane credit hours than suck up to some bitch who’d probably drop out in a year doesn’t mean I deserve to have this hurtful nickname.

“Where are you going? I’ll help you carry these.” Jisung interjected, breaking the very awkward silence. I shook my head and once again tried to take back my fabric.

“I’m fine. You can go back to class or whatever.”

“I was actually headed to the studio to record with Changbin, but I’ve got time.”

I sighed. This man was persistent and not in a good way. There was no way I was going to get rid of him. “Fine. But if you fuck up that fabric I’m making you pay for it.” He smiled and tucked the fabric under his arm, following me to the back of the auditorium building.

I watched Jisung take in everything in the hallway and on the walls as we made our way to the costume shop. “What? Have you never seen the backstage of a theater before?”

“Nah. I’ve only done small venues. Nothing with a stage like this.”

I had almost forgotten Jisung was a rapper. As we came upon the workroom door, I adjusted the fabric in my hand and then pushed the door open with my foot. Jisung followed after I motioned for him to enter the room.

“Y/n! Do we really have to bone corsets? Like can’t we just cheat and put in a plastic lining?” Felix called out not looking up from his workstation. He sounded hungover. “Lia is tiny. Why does she need a fucking corset anyway--heyyyy there’s Jisung......Y/n why is he here?”

I dumped the fabric on a work table and Jisung did the same. “I picked up a stray. Thought you might like a pet.” Jisung rolled his eyes when I pointed behind me. When I turned around, Jisung still stood with his hands in his pockets. “You can go now.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Yeah, what if he doesn’t want to, Y/n?” Felix said in a teasing tone. A quick but deadly glare sent his way quickly shut him up and caused him to turn around back to his workstation. Jisung sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Look. I’m meeting a couple friends at the bar tonight. Why don’t you come by?”

“Hard pass.”

“What if I want to go?” Felix chimed in.

“Yeah, what if he wants to go!” Jisung said with a smirk.

“Felix, shut up for like two seconds.”

Felix scoffed and returned to putting boning in a red lingerie corset. “We both know that’s not gonna happen.” He muttered under his breath. I heard Jisung let out a laugh at the little exchange.

“Whether I go to the bar or not tonight has nothing to do with you. It is probably reliant on the fact that I have no control over my best friend.” Felix chuckled behind me. Jisung shrugged and looked around the room before backing away.

“Okay.”

“Hey, Jisung! Put in a good word for me with Changbin?” Felix called out, leaning over his chair. Jisung let out a lighthearted laugh as he opened the door. Felix had a hopeful look on his face that made me want to vomit.

“Sure, why not.”

Then we were left in silence. I quickly began working, but I felt Felix’s stare on my profile. I knew he couldn’t stay silent for long. Felix couldn’t go four minutes and eighteen seconds without immediately spewing out his opinion. Seungmin and I had timed it once; exactly four minutes later, he erupted.

“ARE YOU SLEEPING WITH JISUNG?”

“Did you see me go home with him last night?”

“No....you went home with Seungmin--OH MY GOD ARE YOU SLEEPING WITH SEUNGMIN?!”

“What? No! Ew!” I said tossing an empty pin cushion at him. “Never in a million years.” Felix let out a hefty sigh of relief. My fingers quickly worked through sewing up a finished section of a corset.

Another silence followed as Felix turned back to our work. It was so obvious his thoughts were festering, just waiting to once again pop out. “So... how did Mr. Balls-for-Brains wind up helping you carry costume fabric?”

I shrugged, putting in another piece of spiral steel and lining it up in a corset panel. “He helped me when I tripped. Apparently, the music department recording studios are near here.”

“Uh....no they're not. The studios are on the other side of the Arts campus.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m pretty sure he was just hanging around the theatre buildings until he saw you.” Felix laughed as I shuddered. I took a quick breath as the needle pricked my finger. This conversation was seriously distracting me. “So....we are going out tonight though. Right?”

“I’m not going out dressed like this.”

“Just grab something from the racks. Mr. Jung won’t mind.”

“If we are going out, I’m drinking.”

“No argument from me. Then we get fun Y/n.” I threw another pin cushion at him, hearing a high pitched yelp beside me. The two of us worked for the next 6 hours until the sun started to set outside the Shop window. I let Felix dress me up from stuff on the racks and we called Lia and Seungmin to meet us at the bar.

When we arrived, it was certainly less packed than the night before. I pulled at the tight skirt Felix had put me in, wishing it to cover more of my thighs than its length allowed. Seungmin whistled as I sat down next to him at the bar. He turned my barstool to face him and Lia, who smiled and clapped at my appearance.

“Is this global warming because the Arctic is hot tonight!”

I slapped his shoulder and turned back to the bartender to order my drink. “I would recognize this anywhere. This is the work of the Great Felix Stylist extraordinaire.” Lia exclaimed, letting Felix take a bow. The bartender slid over my drink and I rested my feet against the bar stool. They were sore from the heels Felix had put me in; only once every so often would I let him play dress up on me.

The night rolled on and I even danced with Lia after a couple more drinks. We came back off the dance floor to see Jisung talking with Felix and Seungmin, his arm leaning against the bar. “Jackass alert,” I whispered to Lia as we approached.

Jisung’s eyes widened when he saw our approach. He seemed to drink in my entire body, not letting any part of me go unseen. “Hey, gorgeous.” He said with a smirk, his eyes dragging over me once again as he sipped his drink. “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure, I said standing next to Felix and stealing a sip from his gin martini. I was really thirsty after dancing so much with Lia. He glanced from me back to my friends who were watching us expectantly.

“I meant alone.”

With a nod, the rest of my friends started moving towards an open booth. I stopped Felix, a hand on his martini glass. “Leave it. I’m going to need more alcohol for this.” With a sigh and longing look at his drink, he left it in my hands.

“Are you drunk?”

“Not nearly enough.” I plainly stated before drinking some more of Felix’s martini. My face soured. I forgot he liked gin. Jisung laughed as I put the drink on the bartop.

“Look. I think you and I should go out.”

“And I think you should jump off a cliff. Preferably one the size of your ego.”

“Ouch.” He said with an unaffected smile. His eyes darted to a girl walking by us, but he quickly diverted his attention back to me. I tried not visibly throw up in my mouth at the action. “Let’s hang out this week.”

“Sorry; not into late-night booty calls since...well...ever.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his brown hair, a habit of his I had picked up on. I couldn’t decide if it was out of frustration or nerves. “Come on. I’m not that bad.”

“Your reputation says otherwise.”

“I could say the same about you.”

He smirked when I fell silent. My fingers played with the rim of the martini glass. I hated that he totally won that argument.

“I’ll make you a deal,” His words made me look up and quirk an eyebrow. “For the next two months, you get dinner with me twice a week and we text once a day.”

“I’m not going on a dinner date with you. I have zero time. I have to bring home my costume work as it is.”

“I never said it was a date. I just want to get to know you, Y/n.” Jisung chuckled and adjusted the clasp of my necklace, making me freeze. “We don’t have to go out to eat. I’m sure it’s hard to focus on work with a theatre major as a roommate. You can come over and I’ll order take out.” I had to admit that the offer sounded tempting. I loved Lia but she could be loud as fuck when prepping for a show.

“Still low key sounds like a date.”

“I swear I will not touch you unless you ask me to.” He winked and I rolled my eyes. “And you will ask me to. Eventually.” A heavy and anger filled sigh left my lips and Jisung leaned away. I honestly hadn’t noticed he had gotten closer.

“Lia is going to think something is up. Felix is for sure going to think I’m sleeping with you. And Seungmin...”

“You aren’t dating Seungmin are you?”

He smiled when I shook my head no. “Anyway, there is no way I’m telling my friends I am hanging out with you.” He shrugged and sipped more on his drink. I was starting to feel a little bit of the alcohol’s effect.

“I’m chill with that. So, you bring over your costume...stuff...on Monday and we can order in and get to know each other.” I shrugged and gave him a small nod. Jisung smiled in victory.

“You do know I’m not going to let you walk away from this conversation looking that happy.”

“And how do you propose you fix that?”

“I was thinking either a slap or a drink.” Jisung laughed and downed the rest of his drink, I assumed Jack and Coke, like the night before. He motioned with his fingers and tapped his chest.

“Give me your best shot, gorgeous.” His willingness made me laugh, genuinely. “Although, I would prefer not to have a huge red mark on my cheek.”

I nodded sarcastically. “Oh. Of course. We can’t damage the precious merchandise.” He groaned when I pinched his cheek. To be honest, I could not believe I was having a nice casual conversation with Han Jisung, 3RACHA’s legendary fuckboy.

“Well then, I’ll see you on Monday. I’ll be at the Shop.”

“I’ll see you then, gorgeous.”

I rolled my eyes and picked up Felix’s martini. “ASSHOLE!” I yelled before tossing the drink in Jisung’s face. “Wow, that was really fun,” I whispered with a smile before walking away to my friends.

“Y/N THAT WAS MY DRINK!! NO! MY ALCOHOL!” Felix said, fake crying.

❁

Jisung’s POV

The gin stung my eyes and Y/n was kind of blurry as she walked away, but I could hear the smile in her voice. This was ironically the first time I had let a girl toss a drink in my face. AND FUCK I WOULD NEVER LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN.

I wiped my face and stumbled away from the bar, trying not to get even more liquor in my eye as I followed the laughter of my supposed ‘friends’ in our usual booth.

“And the King has struck out yet again,” Changbin said as I sat down. Chan laughed but handed me a napkin to wipe my stinging face. A couple strands of my hair fell wet in front of my eyes. “What is this? The third time you been denied by Y/n?” Bin laughed and drank from his (probably) fifth beer of the night.

“Han, I hate to say it. But I am so looking forward to seeing you in lingerie accepting your diploma.”

“I wouldn’t get ahead of yourself, Hyunjin.” All eyes turned to me as I blinked wildly. My vision was just starting to come back. I looked over to Y/n and her friends. Felix was chiding her about destroying his drink and Lia was high fiving her for throwing it.

“...But she threw a martini in your face. I think that qualifies failure in every book I’ve ever read.” Hyunjin scoffed. Little did he know I had Y/n exactly where I wanted her. Soon she would be eating out of my hands. She would be begging for me to sleep with her before she even knew it herself.

❁

Y/n’s POV

Three weeks had passed and I had been drowning in work. Though I hated to admit it...Jisung was the only thing keeping me sane. He had been a really good friend to me for the past few weeks. Lia was the only one who knew about my little dinner rendezvouses with Jisung. And I was correct in the fact that I had been subject to her relentless teasing.

“Are you sure you guys aren’t dating?”

“We are not dating. We are just getting dinner twice a week, getting to know each other, not seeing other people casually, and maybe some.....flirting-- AND OH MY GOD HE TRICKED ME. WE’RE DATING.”

Lia laughed at my realization. I threw down the dress I was working on for Lia’s finale scene. The sound of beads hitting the floor rung throughout the dorm. “What are you gonna do about it?” Lia questioned, adjusting herself on the couch.

“I’m going to go over there and question the shit out of his ass.”

“Hell yeah! Text me!” She cheered as I grabbed my keys and ran out the door.

I slammed my car door and stomped up the stairs of Jisung’s apartment building. A million angry thoughts ran through my mind as I stormed down the hall to his apartment. Without another thought, I burst through the front door, which was oddly...unlocked.

“HAN MOTHER FUCKING JISUNG! YOU TRICKED ME INTO DATING YOU AND I-”

I froze taking in the scene in front of me. Jisung stood wide-eyed shirtless and holding a bottle of water, sweat dripping off his forehead. Another boy, who I recognized as Chan from 3RACHA, dressed in a tank top and sweats was seated on the couch, his face full of surprise at my entrance.

“Oh- uh.....sorry...I’ll just come back when you have...clothes.”

“No, it’s fine! I was just leaving anyway. Thanks for going to the gym with me Han.” Chan grabbed his jacket and exited in the most polite power walk he could manage. Though not without giving Jisung a thumbs up and then shutting the door.

“So how long did you think you were gonna get away with this?” He smirked and opened the water bottle. I was struggling to look anywhere but his tan chest. He obviously noticed. “Oh my god. Would you please put a shirt on!” He chuckled and came closer to me.

“What? Do I make you nervous?” He looked me up and down with dark eyes. My heart pounded in my chest. “Look, I know you’re mad. But, you can’t tell me that you didn’t have fun hanging out with me. Can you?”

“No,”

“And you can’t say that you aren’t at least the tiniest bit attracted to me. Right?”

“I’m not...not attracted to you...”

Jisung smirked and slid his hand around my waist, pulling me so our chests brushed against each other. “That’s not a straight answer.” He smiled at my lack of response. Jisung was clearly enjoying this.

“Well- you’re...not a... straight answer.”

Jisung laughed and let go of me. “But, seriously Y/n. I don’t know about you, but I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you these past few weeks and I really like you.” He took my hand in his and laughed, making his eyes turn into crescents. “So, why don’t we make it official? Y/n, let’s date.”

I blinked a few times before turning away from him. This was not normal. My hands came up to my temple, a sharp pain suddenly emitting from there. “You can’t be serious,” I said, turning back to Jisung. “There’s no way you like me. You like girls for one night stands. I’m not like that. So there is no-”

Jisung’s lips crashed against mine, his hands gripping my wrists gently. He’s kissing me. What do I do? As if reading my thoughts he pulled away just enough to look into my eyes and smile. “Y/n, don’t overthink it. Just let go for once. You’re with me.”

His hand slid down to my waist and his fingers tangled in my belt loops, pulling me closer. My brain was in overdrive. I hadn’t been kissed in so long. Maybe what I said to Felix wasn’t totally the truth. Maybe I had just been depressing my long starved sex drive. Jisung was really nice and I really liked him. What would be the harm in letting myself have fun with someone I actually like for once?

“Okay...so maybe I like you a little bit.” Jisung smiled and brushed away a piece of hair near my face, grazing my cheek. My hands slowly came up to rest on his chest, his warm skin radiating off heat.

“So are we on the same page? You’re mine now?”

“Fine. I guess so,” I said with a laugh. Jisung smiled and kissed me again. His fingers dug into my hips and he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

Kissing Jisung made my head spin in the best way possible. Needing air for more than one reason, I pushed against his chest. “Hey, why don’t you go shower. I’m sure you need one after working out with Chan.” He smirked, his hands slowly moving lower than my waist. “No, I’m not showering with you.”

“Damn. Worth a shot. You wanna stay? I’ll order pizza.”

“Sounds good to me.” After kissing my cheek, Jisung turned and made his way to his bathroom. When the door closed I leaned against the couch for support. Keep it cool, Y/n. I have to remember to keep my guard up. Jisung can’t possibly just change overnight. While I want to trust him...something is holding me back.

Hopefully, I’m just paranoid.

❁

I rolled over in bed, not wanting to wake up. My hand brushed up against something cold. Opening my eyes, I saw my phone under my hand. The screen was still lit up and displayed a caller ID and call time of almost five hours. I smiled seeing Jisung’s name scrolling across the top. Did we really fall asleep on the phone?

Picking up the phone, I heard the sounds of his small breaths and soft snores. “Jisung,” Another soft snore made me smile. We had only been dating officially about a week, but I was really enjoying my time with him. “Jisung?”

“Mmph...I’m up...what’s happening?” He mumbled into the phone. Jisung must have fallen asleep on top of the phone. I laughed and sat up in bed, running a hand through my messy hair.

“I think we fell asleep on the phone, Ji.” His laugh could be heard over the phone.

“Ji?”

“What?”

“That’s the first time you’ve called me something other than my name or an asshole.” I blushed and rolled out of bed. “Y/n L/n are you starting to like me?” Jisung asked, his voice rough from just waking up. The gravely low tone sent a chill down my spine.

“Well, we are dating. That’s what two people do when they like each other, dummy.” I leafed through my closet, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder. He let out what sounded like a forced laugh. Maybe it was just my imagination. It was my brain searching for things to make me not trust him.

“You want to drop by the studio later? I should be working all day but it would be kinda cool to see you.” My ears picked up on the sound of his fingers racing across a keyboard. What could he be working on this early?

No, Y/n. Don’t go there. I have to at least try and trust him. I can’t be nosy and wondering about everything in his life when we’ve only been going out a short time.

“Uh, I can probably drop by around three. I have an exam today I can’t miss.”

“Okay. I’ll text you the studio number. See you later, gorgeous.” With that, he hung up the phone. I tossed the device on my bed and finished getting dressed. A ding notified me of a text. Glancing at it, I saw Jisung sent me the number of the studio number he would be working in and a heart.

It almost set me a little on edge. I knew his personality. I even knew a few of the girls who had the unfortunate experience of falling into bed with him. It just seemed a little weird to me how doting he was with me when he was never like that with other girls.

Maybe he really was trying to make a change? That couldn’t be impossible. Could it? People change. Most often in fairytales and movies, but it happens like 1% of the time, right? These thoughts swarmed through my head as I walked into my lecture hall.

I sat in my usual seat, arriving about five minutes before class was set to begin. Looking up, I saw several sets of eyes staring at me; all belonging to different girls. Some had looked of pity, some disgust, but all looked slightly confused. Ignoring them, I pulled out my notes for a few more moments of study time.

“You’re the girl whose dating Han, am I right?”

I looked up to find a very pretty girl with blonde hair and big doe-like eyes. “Umm...yeah. Is there a problem or something?” She shook her head and sat down next to me with a smile.

“Oh! No, not at all. I just had to see for myself that’s all. My name’s Momo. I’m a dance major. I have a mutual friend of Han’s, Hyunjin.”

I nodded, glancing from her to my paper. I wasn’t really used to this much attention during class. Usually, I just focused on the lecture or project and didn’t talk much. “Yeah, I know they are friends, but I don’t really know Hyunjin myself.”

She nodded and twirled a pen between her fingers. I started to wonder what her relationship was with the boys. She was obviously gorgeous and she seemed just like Jisung’s type. I wouldn’t be surprised if they had slept together before.”I’ve just heard so much about you. All those rumors are totally bogus by the way. I would love if we could be friends.”

She took my hand in hers with a bright and blindingly white perfect smile. Did she not know what personal space was? “Uh....sure. I guess that would be cool. I’m usually pretty busy with making costumes for the university’s musical.”

“Here! Take my number! We can go get coffee sometime. I’d love to hear all the juicy tea about the girl who finally got the famous Han Jisung to stop sleeping around.” Momo ripped a piece of paper from her perfectly organized agenda and wrote her number on it. The professor started speaking as she handed it to me. Holy shit it was scented!

This day was just getting more and more confusing for me.

❁

Jisung’s POV

The studio was freezing as per usual. Even bundled up in a beanie and hoodie I was cold, pulling the sleeves further down my hands. I watched the monitor carefully and adjusted the headphones over my ears.

“Okay, Bin! You’re good.” Chan called to the boy in the booth after I gave him a thumbs up. “So, I take it things with Y/n are...good,” Chan asked hesitantly. The topic of Y/n was a sore subject for him so I was surprised he brought it up.

“Oooooo We talking about the Snow Queen?” Changbin said plopping down on the couch near the wall. I turned in my chair to roll my eyes at him. “I’m taking that as a sign you haven’t gotten in her pants yet?”

“She’s honestly kind of a prude....well. Not a prude. But you know what I mean.” Chan shook his head at my words.

Changbin threw a ball of paper at my head, making me send another glare his way. “Isn’t this the longest dry spell you’ve had. How long has it been?” I sighed pulling the headphones down around my neck.

“One month, five days, twelve hours, and twenty-two minutes.”

“You know it’s gross that you keep track like that,” Chan said taking a swig from his water bottle. “Y/n seems like a nice girl. It’s kind of sick you and Hyunjin using her like this.” I shrugged, not really caring.

“I mean, I guess. But, I would rather be $1,500 richer.”

“Just remember Y/n has feelings too.”

I nodded and turned back to the monitor looking at the track we just recorded. As if on cue, the door opened and Y/n’s voice could be heard greeting the other boys.

“Hi!- Oh! Sorry, I didn’t expect anyone else. I’m Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.”

Turning, I saw her shaking hands with Changbin and Chan. “Y/n that’s Bin, and you’ve met Chan,” I said pointing to the boys. “Now you’ve met all of 3RACHA.” I pulled her hand, dragging her closer to my chair. Chan rolled his eyes when I pulled her down and kissed her cheek. The smile on her face did not go unnoticed by the boys.

“How was your exam?” I asked, playing with her fingers.

“It was okay. I passed for sure. A girl named Momo asked to get coffee with me. Apparently, she knows your friend Hyunjin.” My eyes went wide and I stood up, pulling her to my side with a nervous laugh.

“Well, uh... I think we’ve all done enough work today. Y/n you wanna go get some boba or something. I’m hungry what about you? Bye guys!” Quickly I pushed her out the door and waved goodbye to the boys.

I had my fingers crossed that Hyunjin was keeping his big mouth shut.

❁

A month and a half. That’s how long I had left before I lost and was forced to be utterly humiliated in front of the entire university. Y/n and I had been dating for almost three weeks and hanging out for longer. I had to make a move tonight.

My friend Minho had hooked me up with some tiny night vision camera that I had hidden all around my apartment. I knew Y/n was starting to trust me more, so this was the opportune time. She was coming over any minute now. I checked my reflection in the mirror and ran my hands through my hair.

$1,500 here I come.

A knock bounced off the walls of my apartment. I checked the time. 8:30 pm. She was late by about forty-five minutes, which was not usual for her. What was it she always said? Early is on time and on time is late? Some weird theater shit like that.

Something was up.

I rushed to the door and opened it to find Y/n standing at my doorstep. She gave me a tired smile and kissed my cheek in greeting. She looked like she felt awful. “Hi, Ji! Sorry, I’m late. Felix bailed on me so I had all this extra work to do for the musical and I have a semester project due this week-”

“Y/n what’s wrong?” She sighed and collapsed onto the couch. Sitting next to her I could see the concealer under her eyes attempting to hide the dark shadows. She never wore makeup unless she was going out. I was surprised even remembered that. “You can tell me anything, gorgeous.” She smiled when I took her hand.

This might be better than I thought. Comfort her. Get the proof I need. Shove it in Hyunijn’s face. I could tell she was deciding whether or not to trust me. If it was something small she would tell me no problem.

But... maybe this was something bigger.

“I’m just...really stressed.” She said, pushing her hair away from her face. I could see the wall she had slowly building itself back up. There was pain behind her eyes. She was hurting. Why did that make me sad?

“That’s not all this is.” I turned towards her fully, giving her my complete attention. She crossed her legs up on the couch and stared at her fingers. When I lifted her chin I saw tears on the brink of falling from her eyes.

“I just... feel like...- nevermind it’s stupid.” She shook her head and looked around my apartment. She tried to laugh it off but frowned when she saw my face. Y/n let out a shaky breath when I took her hands in mine, resting them in her lap.

We sat in silence for a few minutes. Just sitting across from each other on the couch. She seemed to be working up the courage to tell me something.

“Nothing I ever do...seems to be...enough.” I looked at her, waiting for her to continue. “I work my ass off. All the time. But, it feels like I can’t do anything right lately. Not enough for my mom. Not enough for my teachers. Certainly not enough for Tech Recruiters. I just feel like I’m falling short on everything I do. And I’m tired. I just want to be enough for someone. But, who am I kidding? Nobody likes me. I’m Seoul University’s Arctic Bitch, right? I’m too coldhearted and selfish to get anywhere in life, let alone convince any theatre company to hire me so I can pay off my student loans. I’m just so fucking tired of feeling this way. Sorry for whining. I know you probably had other plans for tonight.”

She wiped the tears from her cheeks and stared out the living room window. “Hey,” I said pulling her attention back to me. Surprisingly, she let me reach up and wipe a tear from her cheek. “Look at me,” Reluctantly Y/n met my eyes. “You are more than enough for me.” She looked down and smiled, wiping more tears on her sleeve.

“Really?”

“Really.” I ran my thumb over her knuckles and smiled at her. It took a lot for her to open up to me like that. “You have just been bottling this up haven’t you?” She nodded and wiped another tear, before looking back up at me. Her eyes were still beautiful even when she was crying. “I do that too. It’s a habit we should both fix. Could you talk to Lia? Or Felix?”

She shook her head and started playing with my fingers. I started to like the feeling of her smaller hands in mine. “Lia has her own stuff to worry about. Her dad keeps pressuring her to join an entertainment company. And Felix...well Felix means well, but...” I was relieved to see her smile again. Her laugh was contagious.

“Yeah, I get it. Kind of like Changbin and Chan. They mean well, but they don’t understand sometimes.”

She nodded and played with one of the rings on my right hand. “Thank you for listening. It really means a lot that I can trust you like this.”

“You trust me?”

“I never thought I would say that but... I would never have told Felix that and he is my best friend.”She reached up a cupped my cheek. Her hands were warm and inviting. I stared into her eyes no longer seeing hurt behind her E/c orbs.

“You’re beautiful. You know that?” I said without thinking. My eyes widened and I pulled away from her touch. I had never said anything like that. Usually, everything I said to Y/n had a purpose or plan behind it. But, I just spoke without thinking.

Y/n smiled, her eyes turning even brighter. She leaned forward and kissed me. Something about this kiss felt different than the times I had kissed her before. My heart started to race and goosebumps crawled over my skin. I smiled when her hands pulled me closer to her, tangling her fingers through my hair.

A sigh escaped my chest when her teeth grazed over my lip. She pulled away only for a second to catch her breath before coming back to me. I pulled away when she threw her leg over my lap and straddled me. “What are you doing?” I asked as she kissed from my lips down to my jaw. It was exciting not to be in control for once.

“Showing you how much you mean to me,” She whispered before kissing my lips again. Instinctively, my hands gripped her waist wanting for no space left between my body and hers. I felt close to Y/n in a different way. I feel like I had been in this exact position with other girls, but with her it was different. Something about kissing her like this felt intimate. Like it was just for us to share.

Fuck. The cameras. They were still recording all over the apartment.

“Uh- Y/n...” I said pulling away from her, my hands planted firmly on her hips. “Are you sure you want to do this, gorgeous?” My eyes widened as she nodded and continued to drag her lips across mine. “Because we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Please tell me to stop. If you don’t I don’t know what I’ll do with myself.

“Ji, I want this. Do you?”

“You have no idea.”

“Good. Do you trust me?” Y/n asked with a mischievous smile. I nodded watching her eyes twinkle in the low light of my apartment. She dragged her fingers down my chest and pulled at the hem of my shirt. As soon as the fabric was over my head and flung somewhere in the living room she smashed her lips onto mine.

My thoughts were running a mile a minute. How was I supposed to turn off all the cameras without her knowing? After seeing her in pain, I couldn’t hurt her like that. An idea popped in my head. Wrapping my arms around her waist I pulled her up and carried her, pushing her back against the nearest wall.

Her legs tightened around my waist, holding herself up. She looked down at me with hooded eyes before kissing me again. With one hand I kept her steady while the other searched the bookshelf next to me for the camera I put in the living room. Feeling the metal and plastic, I quickly turned it around blocking its view.

There should just be two more in my bedroom. “Ji,” Y/n moaned into my lips. She was driving me crazy. I was already more worked up from this than I had ever been with any other girl. She giggled when I carried her through the bedroom door and pressed her up against the wall. “You know...I haven’t done this in a pretty long time...” Her words were breathy and cut off when she joined her lips back to mine.

“You could have fooled me.”

My mind was kind of in a haze. All I could think about was Y/n. I couldn’t think straight with her hands all over me. Where did I put the second camera again? Her lips trailed down to my neck sending my brain and body into overdrive. Come on, Han. Focus.

The desk! Then the third was by my nightstand. I moved us over slowly, hoping she wouldn’t notice. I wanted to touch her so badly. But, I couldn’t betray her trust after she opened up to me like that. Joining my lips with hers, I felt blindly around the table for the small device. After I found it, I tucked it behind the monitor.

“Are you sure, gorgeous?” I asked one more time looking into her eyes.

“Jisung, stop asking or I swear I’m gonna-”

“You’re gonna what?”

“I don’t know. Just kiss me damn it.” She smiled when I smashed my lips onto hers. Her fingers pulled at my hair as I dragged my lips down her jaw. She joined our lips as I picked her up and carried her to the bed. The bed dipped as she laid on the mattress. Before I could reach for the nightstand she pulled me over, straddling me on the bed again.

I tried to keep my brain clear as she attacked my neck and chest with her lips. Knowing she was distracted, I grabbed the camera and threw it across the room wanting this to be done. Her head turned at the sound, but I pulled her back to my lips.

“You drive me crazy,” I whispered, reaching down and pulling at the hem of her shirt. My lips latched onto every bare piece of skin I could find, wanting to feel every part of her. I was ready to be with her, in more ways than I had thought.

❁

Y/n’s POV

I lay in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. Jisung laid beside me his arm slung across my stomach and soft snores leaving his lips. I smiled seeing him next to me. I had slept for a few hours but like usual, I had woken up in the middle of the night unable to fall back asleep.

Shifting onto my side, I looked at Jisung. He looked peaceful in his sleep. There was always something active about him when he was awake. Like he was never still. Seeing him in a state of calm was intriguing. My hand brushed the side of his cheek. A strand of his brown hair fell over his eyes, so I gently pushed it back and softly moved my hands through his locks.

Jisung let out a little hum in his sleep, making me smile. I started to pull away my fingers but Jisung’s hand shot up to keep it there, startling me. “What’s wrong, gorgeous?” Jisung mumbled, placing my hand back in his messy hair.

“I can’t sleep. Don’t worry about me.” I said quietly going back to playing with his soft brown tresses. He shook his head, brows furrowing in the cutest way. His fingers latched themselves onto my wrist, rubbing his thumb against my skin.

“I’m not sleeping unless you are,” He whispered, obviously half asleep.

“Shhh. Ji, go back to sleep.” Instead of complying he tugged me into his bare chest and started tracing soothing patterns on my lower back. In all honestly just that alone was making me just a little sleepy. My eyes were starting to droop, just laying in his arms, but my brain was still wide awake.

Suddenly, my ears picked up on the soft sound of Jisung singing. It was slow and gentle, his voice a little rough from sleep, but beautiful all the same. His voice was like honey, soothing my entire body. My fingers started to slow their movements as I tucked myself into Jisung’s chest.

I finally fell into a deep sleep listening to Jisung softly sing to me.

❁

Light streamed through the window, hitting me straight in the face. I groaned and tried to roll over. My brows furrowed when something stopped me. My tired eyes opened more to see Jisung still sounds asleep, holding onto me like a teddy bear.

Sensing my movements, Jisung’s eyes cracked open and smiled. “Good morning, gorgeous,” His voice was scratchy and low, sending chills down my spine. Jisung pushed himself up on his elbow and hovered over me with a drowsy smile.

“Morning, Ji,”

He genuinely smiled down at me and leaned down pressing his lips against mine. I felt him smile when I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Do you have class this morning?” He asked against my lips, which were most likely swollen from last night. Jisung himself had several darkening marks on his neck and collarbone.

“Not until tomorrow. Do you?”

“I was supposed to go record with Chan and Bin.”

“Supposed?”

“Like hell, I am going to leave you looking this beautiful in my bed,” Jisung said pressing his lips down my neck. “You want a shower? I’m gonna call Chan and tell him I’m not coming.” I nodded and pulled him up to my lips one more time.

“Thank you for last night, Ji. For everything.”

He smiled and kissed my cheek. “Feel free to borrow some of my clothes,” Jisung said with a smirk before rolling over and grabbing his phone on the nightstand. I grabbed a hoodie from his closet while he was distracted with his phone and headed to the bathroom.

❁

Jisung’s POV

“Chan, I’m in deep shit,” I whispered into the phone. I checked to make sure Y/n was out of the room. Chan scoffed over the line.

“Han. It is way too early for this. Did you accidentally email your professor a pornhub link again?”

“What no!” Chan sighed. “Look, Y/n’s over here.” He started freaking out over the phone. I sighed letting his panic play out.

“Oh no, no, no. You are not dragging me into this. Y/n is a nice girl. I want nothing to do with your and Hyunjin’s sick bet-”

“I think I’m starting to really like her. Like a lot.”

There was silence on the other side of the line. I decided that he was probably waiting for more information. Or he had passed out. Either was a probable response from Chris. “But, she’s at your apartment? Han, it’s like ten in the mornin-...You didn’t.” He took my silence as confirmation. “How could you? You said you like her!”

“I didn’t technically. I had these cameras set up, but I turned them off after she opened up to me and stuff started to happen.”

“YOU SET UP ACTUAL CAMERAS TO FILM HER?”

Chan screamed so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear. Even then I could still hear him. “Did you hear the part where I said I turned them off. I have no proof....and honestly....I’m starting to question if I want any.”

“Wow. Good for you. You’ve had personal growth. Whoop-de-doo.”

“Hey. I am asking for advice, not sarcasm.” I said with a sigh. I ran a hand through my hair, feeling it sticking up in weird places. “What should I do? Chan...I really like Y/n, but I’ve been lying to her up until now.”

“You’ve got to tell her the truth eventually.”

“But, what if she hates me. I don’t think I could handle hurting her.” Chan sighed again. I could practically see his face. The guy probably just woke up and I was putting all this stress on him.

“I don’t know what to tell you,”

“I get it. Just don’t tell anyone about what we talked about, okay? At least until I figure out how to tell Y/n. I’m gonna stay here and think about it.” With that, I hung up the phone and laid back in bed. My fingers massaged my temple, feeling a sharp pain there.

Did I really want to keep up this bet?

❁

Y/n’s POV

A weel later Jisung and I were doing even better than we were before. We were actually going out on dates and also...staying in and doing...other things. Jisung had invited me to come and see 3RACHA perform tonight at a local club, so Felix was fussing over my outfit.

“Felix, I am not fitting into that dress.”

“You can squeeze!”

“A Polly pocket couldn’t fit into that tiny ass thing!”

“Come on, Y/n! Be my Barbie!” Felix said chasing me around the costume shop with a tiny piece of white fabric that barely passed the social standard of being a dress. Eventually, he tackled me and wrestled me into the tight-fitting dress.

“I feel naked.”

“Oh, please. He’ll love it.” Felix said throwing a pair of heels at me. I looked longingly at my pair of old tennis shoes. “If you aren’t wearing pumps at least wear some boots. We are clubbing after all.”

“Lix, we aren’t clubbing. We are watching Han perform.”

“Same difference.”

I sighed and slipped on the black heeled boots Lix threw on my workstation and grabbed the brightly colored graffiti jacket that Jisung ‘left’ at my dorm. He had been leaving more and more of his clothes lying around my room. I wasn’t complaining.

I drove both of us to the club and covered my ears entering the loud establishment. 3RACHA were already up on stage and performing a song so we pushed our way to the front. All the boys looked a little tipsy and had beers up on stage with them. Jisung saw me in the crowd and blew a kiss in my direction sending the whole crowd into a frenzy.

The show was incredible, though after I couldn't seem to get anywhere near Jisung. All the boys were hounded with fans and the crowd around them was too big to get through. “This is ridiculous. I can’t even get to my own boyfrien-” My world stopped when I looked over in Jisung’s direction by the bar. I swear everything happened in slow motion.

A girl with long platinum blonde wavy hair was draped all over Jisung’s arm. He talked to her while drinking yet another beer. I watched as she leaned up and cupped his cheeks, bringing him down for a sloppy kiss. The crowd cheered and I began to feel dizzy. “Y/n,” I heard Felix say, grabbing onto my elbow.

“I’ve gotta get out of here.”

The bass was so loud I could feel it pounding against my brain as I pushed through the crowd of dancing bodies. I heard someone calling my name, but I didn’t really want to talk to anybody. I just needed air. I needed to think.

“Y/n!”

I finally broke through the crowd and made my way outside the club. Where was my car? Where the fuck did I park? I ran a hand through my hair and looked around me trying to find my car in the see of dimly lit vehicles.

“Y/n!” A hand grabbed my arm and turned me around. Jisung stood before me, clearly drunk with lipstick all over his face. “Y/n, baby, it’s not what you think.” His voice, which had become my favorite sound, was slurred and broken up.

“Not what I think? Tell me, then. What was it?”

“Mina, she was drunk. She kissed me, but it didn’t mean anything. You know I only have feelings for you.” Did I know that? There was always this little thought in the back of my mind no matter how much I trusted Jisung that told me I was just another number in his playbook.

“Yes, she did kiss you. But that is a fucking cop-out. Because there is a reason she felt like that was an option.”

I tried to push away the tears that threatened to fall. Jisung broke looking at me. I wanted nothing more than for him to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay, but I didn’t know if I could trust him right now. I could tell it hurt him when he reached out and I backed away, tears inevitably falling down my cheeks.

“Don’t cry. I die when you cry.”

“Jisung you can’t do that!” I said watching a tear drip down his cheek.

“What?”

“You can’t make me love you when I’m supposed to hate you!” I said slapping his shoulder and letting the tears flow freely. Not hesitating, he wrapped me up in his arms, even when I tried to push him away. He let me cry on his shoulder and beat on his chest until it physically hurt to breathe.

“You’re right. It is a cop-out.” His hand came up and rubbed my back like he had done every night he stayed with me. “Y/n, I’m so sorry I let it happen. I don’t know what I was thinking.” My knuckles turned white, gripping onto his shirt.

“Jisung, I’m tired of being hurt.”

“You are my everything, gorgeous.” He said lifting up my chin. I hated crying and feeling like this. It just sucked not being able to trust him when I wanted to be with him so badly.

“How do I know I’m not just another random hookup for you?”

“Because...” My heart dropped when he couldn't say anything.

“That’s the answer I needed. Thanks.”

I started to walk away but he grabbed my arm, pulling me back into his chest. Jisung smashed his lips on mine, desperation, and passion filling the kiss making my knees go weak.

“That’s how.” He said, pulling away.

❁

I woke up the next morning, in Jisung’s bed light streaming through the window. I really should get him curtains. I smiled thinking back to last night. Jisung promised to show me that I wasn’t just another girl to him. And boy did he. I had never felt so loved than when I was with Jisung last night.

I grabbed a big shirt of his that was lying around and slipped it over my head. My feet carried me out into his living room, where bright sunlight illuminated his only slightly messy apartment. A note on the coffee table caught my eyes.

Morning gorgeous,

Went out to get coffee and breakfast for us.

I’ll be back soon, so sit tight.

Ji <3

I smiled at his handwriting and the heart he left me. Lifting my legs up, I got comfortable on the couch and waited for Jisung to get back. The sound of a notification filled the room. Did I leave my phone in here?

I searched for the device and found it face-up on the counter. It said I had one voicemail. Swiping on the notification the voicemail started playing. The voice of a boy I didn’t recognize filled the living room as I brought the phone back over to the couch. “Hey, it’s Hyunjin,” Oh. This must be Jisung’s phone. I was about to put it back until I heard the boy continue.

“Just reminding you, you’ve got two weeks to get into Y/n’s pants or you lose the bet. Your reputation as campus King is on the line, bro. Oh and don’t forget the cash prize.”

I couldn't move.

❁

Han Jisung’s POV

The coffee line took forever, but I finally got my order and excited the shop. I was trying to balance the cup holder in one hand and hold the door open for another customer when something slammed into my shoulder. “Hey! Watch it!”

“Han?”

I looked up to see Hyunjin with a sly grin on his handsome face. “Hyunjin?” He clapped me on the back and helped me hold the door. “What’s up, man?” I asked when we were both standing outside.

“I actually just called you like twenty minutes ago.”

“Oh, sorry I think I left my phone at my apartment.” I shrugged, trying to move along the conversation. Hyunjin was the last person I wanted to see. Especially after what happened last night with Y/n. “What about?”

“Just to remind you that you’ve got two weeks until you officially lose our bet. Don’t worry, I left a message so you can’t forget.”

My heart dropped to my stomach. My phone was still in the apartment with Y/n. “Oh, shit,” I muttered, eyes going wide. Hyunjin seemed to pay my reaction no mind. He was still stuck in his own world like usual.

“Whose the other coffee for by the way?”

Fuck. She was gonna hear the message. No. She can’t hear it from Hyunjin. That asshole is going to ruin any chance I have left with her. Dropping the coffee and take away bag, I started sprinting across campus back to my apartment.

“HAN, WHAT THE FUCK?”

I prayed that Y/n was still asleep. Maybe I could get there before she woke up, delete the message and just put this whole bet thing behind me. Doing Hyunjin’s punishment seemed like nothing compared to losing Y/n. I burst through the lobby doors and spotted my landlord already in his office.

“Mr.Kang!”

“Good lord! Mr. Han, what can I do for you?”

“Uh...my girlfriend- the uh woman I came back with last night. Has she left yet?” I said completely out of breath. He stared at me like I was insane.

“Not to my knowledge. I didn’t even realize you were serious about someone.”

Before he even finished his sentence, I was pushing myself off his doorframe and racing to the elevator. I slammed the button and watched the elevator come down but it was taking too long for me. “Fuck this.” Racing up the stairs my heart pounded in my chest. Would she even still be there? Or would she just leave and not give me a second chance?

“Y/n?” I called halfway down the hall. I could care less about my neighbors at this point. “Y/n?” I burst through the door, knowing I left it unlocked. I let out a sigh seeing Y/n seated on the couch. My face fell, when I saw the dried tears on her cheeks. Without looking at me, she reached in front of her and played a recording on my phone. Hyunjin’s voice filled the room.

“Hey, it’s Hyunjin. Just reminding you, you’ve got two weeks to get into Y/n’s pants or you lose the bet. Your reputation as campus King is on the line, bro. Oh and don’t forget the cash prize.”

She stood up and kept her stare on the phone. She looked broken.

“Are you going to say something?” Her voice cracked like she was holding back tears.

All I could do was cross to her and take her in my arms. I held onto her, cradling her head against my chest, my heart still racing from the mild panic attack that was just now catching up to me.

“Thank god you’re still here.”

I felt a few tears fall from my cheek and into her hair. “Jisung...was that all I was to you? Some payout? A way to keep your title of Biggest Fuckboy on campus?” She pushed away from me and walked to the other side of the room. The distance felt like miles.

I could feel my heart breaking. “What-no. Maybe at the beginning, but it doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter? It doesn’t matter, Jisung? Yes. Yes, it does matter. You can’t keep lying to me and expect me to forgive you every time.” She yelled at me from across the room. I had never seen her this hurt or angry and it killed me.

“Y/n, please. Listen to me.”

“Listen to you? Your buddy Hyunjin just told me the whole fucking thing!”

“No! You have to hear it from me! What he said- it’s all turned around and screwed up. That’s why I wanted to be the one to tell you.” She backed away as I came closer.

“Why didn’t you just tell me last night?”

“Because I was afraid! I was afraid none of this would be real and this feeling would go away; that the meaning would be lost.”

“The meaning of what, Jisung?”

I grabbed her hand in desperation, scared she might walk out the door at any moment. “This. Right here. Us. You and me.”

“Jisung, there is no you and me anymore.” She said pulling away and walking back towards the bedroom. I raced forward and blocked the doorway. “Jisung, move.” She said pushing against my chest.

“No.”

“Jisung! I want out! I can’t love someone I can’t trust.” She pushed through me with as much force as she could manage. I watched as she picked up the dress she was wearing last night from the floor. She tore off my shirt that she was wearing and threw it in my face. Y/n struggled to put the white dress back on before grabbing her shoes and trying to walk past me.

“Y/n! Don’t leave, please.”

“How much was I worth Jisung? How much money were you going to get for fucking me?”

“$1,500. But, I didn’t take it! I didn’t even tell them that I slept with you because I didn’t care about the bet anymore. Y/n, please believe me. I will get down on my knees if you want me to.” She just stared at me in the doorway. “I will do anything to get you to stay.” Another silence passed. I felt small under her gaze. She had every right to be furious at me.

“Kneel.”

Quickly, I got down on my knees. I had never moved faster in my entire life. I looked up at her, sharing the same tear-stained cheeks. To my surprise, she got on her knees with me and wrapped her arms around my neck.

“Please, don’t hurt me anymore, Ji.”

Nodding I wrapped my arms around her and pulled Y/n into my lap. “I’m so sorry...I’m so sorry. I love you, Y/n. I’m sorry.” I cried into her shoulder. We just sat on the floor of my bedroom, holding onto each other, waiting for what would happen next.

❁

Y/n’s POV

The zipper on Jisung’s graduation gown was being a real pain in the ass. It had gotten stuck two inches from the top. They had already called my name and given me a diploma, so I came to sit with my boyfriend. He fidgeted while I sat in his lap.

“Man, this thing is tight.”

“Well, keep in mind I didn’t make it for you. I made it for Lia. Also, do you know how many girls would love their waist to fit into this?” I said slapping his shoulder.

“I think I’d rather be able to breathe.”

“Beauty is pain, Ji.” I said as I messed with his zipped. He nervously tapped on my thigh and waist as he listened to the Dean call out the names of students. “Damn this zipper.” My years of costume study were now being defeated by the zipper on my boyfriends graduation robe. “Ah-ha!” The zipper finally complied and moved up to the top of the robe.

“Han Jisung. Music Production Major.” The Dean called out over the speakers.

“Knock em dead, Ji,” I said kissing his cheek. Jisung smiled and walked up to the stage. Before the Dean could hand him his diploma Jisung unzipped his robe and the entire student body was filled with gasps and laughs. Jisung proudly presented himself wearing the red and black lingerie and corset I had made for Lia in the musical. It left nothing to the imagination, especially below the bodice.

The look on the Dean’s face was priceless and Jisung twirled in front of him and laughed along with our graduating class. Jisung shook the Dean’s hand and took his diploma. Before he walked off the stage he turned around pushed his robe aside and slapped his own ass receiving many cheers and wolf whistles from the students.

I laughed as he came back to his seat. He gave me a great big kiss and pulled me back onto his lap. “That was a piece of cake,” Jisung said, wrapping his arms around my stomach and resting his chin on my shoulder. I kissed his forehead with a big grin.

“I have never been so attracted to a man in lingerie.”

❁

Requests are open! Just send and ask, lovelies!

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lady-divine-writes · 3 years ago

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Kurtbastian fic “Always and Forever” Chapter 3

Summary: After the death of their daughter Grace, Kurt and Sebastian drift apart. Kurt wraps himself up in his grief so tightly he starts to push Sebastian away, and Sebastian, feeling himself shoved aside when he needs Kurt most, cheats. They make the decision to start over, to leave New York City and their pain behind, and start over again in a house Upstate. Sebastian buys Kurt a "fixer upper" and gives him free reign. While redecorating the room that will be his studio, Kurt comes across something interesting underneath the wallpaper. It starts to become an obsession for Kurt - an obsession that begins to replace Kurt's love for his husband, which Sebastian is holding on to by a thread. Can Kurt and Sebastian break through the pain and the hurt and find a way to fall in love again?

Read on AO3.

Chapter 3 (4753 words)

Kurt stares out his studio window at the neighborhood below. It’s 10:15 a.m. and a Tuesday, so it isn’t as if the place is teeming with activity. Everyone living on Colony Lane seems content to stick to their own spaces, abide by their own schedules, and go about their lives without much interference from the world outside.

Kurt hates to hand it to Sebastian, but that’s what he wants as well. Isolation in a quaint fixer-upper is precisely what he needs.

Another point for Sebastian.

Damn.

He seems to be racking them up lately, while Kurt…

Kurt can admit that he’s not trying as hard as he should be, but he’s giving himself permission to be selfish. There shouldn’t be a timetable for bouncing back from loss, and Kurt got the double-whammy.

Sebastian gave him betrayal to get over, too.

Kurt knows that he should deem repairing his marriage a priority, but he also needs to do what’s right for him.

He hasn’t figured out what that is yet, but it'll come to him.

Underlying childhood guilt has him believing that he should introduce himself to the neighbors. Etiquette and all that. It’s what his mother would do. Every time his family moved, and there had been a handful of times, Kurt’s mother would bake a batch of cookies for the neighbors. She'd put a baker's dozen into colorful cellophane bags, tie the tops with curled ribbon, and take them door to door to say hello. She wouldn’t wait for people to show up on their doorstep with a casserole and a smile. She believed in being proactive. She would tell him, “New neighborhood, new life. Go out and be a part of it.”

But Kurt doesn’t want to, and the neighbors seem fine with that.

It’s been three days, and Kurt and Sebastian have only gotten one visitor – the technician who came to fix the heating. Of course, the neighbors could be waiting for them to get settled. Then they’ll pounce over with perfectly iced Gingerbread Bundt cakes and Chicken Kievs, church invites, and Girl Scout cookie order forms, like a swarm of Stepford Wives.

Kurt doesn’t care about being proactive, and his mother isn’t around to scold him for behaving like a hermit.

That may sound harsh, but it's true.

The clouds pulling together in the sky overhead, threatening rain, give Kurt an excuse to shut himself away and work on the house - an excuse he can ply without the assistance of a tragic backstory. With his laptop open on the floor in front of him, he browses those websites that feed his design fetishes: Ethan Allen, Neiman Marcus, Anthropologie.

But he's not the least bit inspired.

He’d decided to start small, take things room by room instead of attacking everything at once. But he gets stumped, staring at the screen in front of him, unsure whether the chair he’s been mulling over for the past half hour is gorgeous or gaudy.

He should focus on bringing the living room together since it’s where they do the bulk of their entertaining, provided they ever start entertaining again. And he should do something about the master bedroom, which, for the moment, houses a bed, a TV, and a dresser within the confines of four ashy walls.

Opinions on the topic vary, but Kurt has always felt that the bedrooms are the heart of the home. They’re sanctuaries where dreaming, planning, and affirmation happen. He only has the one to worry about, so he should put extra effort into making it comforting, relaxing, sensual on the off chance he ever plans on touching his husband again.

The jury is still out on that one, unfortunately.

The kitchen, he’s not looking forward to decorating. Aside from his studio, he and Grace spent much of their time together in the kitchen. They baked daily: cakes, cookies, bread, and anything else they could slop onto a baking sheet and shove into the oven. They also made jam, pickled fruit, and taught themselves (using YouTube videos mainly) to prepare various types of cuisine. Some were a hit, others a miss, but it was always an adventure.

Kurt had done something similar with his mother and her collection of vintage cookbooks, congregating around the kitchen island in the afternoons to shed the angst of public school, and spread the wings of his stifled creativity. He and his mother discussed everything in the kitchen while sifting flour and creaming butter. It was a tradition he had so looked forward to continuing.

Now, he’d rather not be bothered going into the kitchen again.

He could pick a page out of the IKEA catalog and recreate it. That should offend him. It did when Sebastian suggested it the first time Kurt redecorated their penthouse. But Kurt hardly cares. It doesn’t matter as much as it did. He can’t remember the last time he stepped into the kitchen and prepared anything more elaborate than toast and coffee, maybe dry scrambled eggs. Sebastian took over cooking duties after Grace died, which, nine times out of ten, means ordering out, if for no other reason than he gets to leave the house to pick up the food.

He knows Kurt appreciates the time alone more than he does a home-cooked meal.

Then there’s Sebastian’s office, which Kurt is decorating for the first time. He has tried to start a shopping cart for it numerous times, but, unlike the windfall of ideas he had for his studio, he can’t get into a groove. He remembers a time when thinking about decorating Sebastian’s office put a hundred ideas into his head.

Currently, he has only one.

The cheap, vomit-worthy, knock-off furnishings of the no-tell hotel room he pictures whenever he thinks of Sebastian sleeping with another man.

Kurt shivers in disgust. He wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy.

The room or the infidelity.

But how would Sebastian react if Kurt decorated his office to look like the business suite at the Marriott?

Kurt snickers, envisioning the sitcom-worthy shock that would erupt on Sebastian's face if he presented that to him.

"As you can see," Kurt would say, strolling through the room with his head held high atop the straightest spine pettiness can deliver, "I have chosen the most flame-retardant carpet available in subtle hues of tan and beige, a color combination well suited for concealing cum stains. This ergonomic, curved leather loveseat, for when you want to get adventurous with your afternoon romps, which, at your age, requires plenty of lumbar support. Plus, it cleans up in a snap with just a Clorox wipe, so that's a useful feature. Faux fireplace, faux aquarium, faux chandelier... are we sensing a theme? And in the corner, I've provided you a foldout of your own, for when you bring... ahem... work home."

The grin on Kurt's lips slides when Sebastian, wearing a gutted expression, pops to mind. It's an expression that Kurt didn't believe possible for Sebastian till their daughter died. He's only seen it once. He doesn't want to bring it back.

He sighs.

Revenge-dreaming isn't helping.

It isn't as satisfying as he thought it would be.

He’s not breaking through his creative block anytime soon. He puts his plans for the other rooms on the back burner and decides to spend time picking out furniture for his studio. With the exception of his sewing machines, he didn’t bring anything from his penthouse studio here, so he’s starting over fresh. He switches tabs and starts filling his online shopping cart with the basics: a new drafting table, a cabinet, a chair he’ll have to custom-upholster, a bolt of drapery fabric he can repurpose to make a bedspread (if he goes through with his plans for a foldout), and a few other miscellaneous odds and ends, nothing worth wasting too much brain-power over.

The clunk-clunk of Sebastian stacking cans in the kitchen cabinets reaches Kurt upstairs, as does the water running in the sink while he washes dishes and the squeak of the sticky pantry door when he fixes it. Kurt plans on redoing the kitchen and giving the entire room a facelift. Sebastian knows that. But repairing the door gives Sebastian something to do.

Sebastian has been considerate enough to let Kurt do his thing undisturbed for the morning. Kurt’s reluctance to talk to anyone extends to Sebastian, which Sebastian understands. He’s keeping his distance. But it’s nice to hear him puttering around the house. It gives Kurt comfort, the same way listening to his father snore in the middle of the night helped Kurt feel less alone after his mother died.

He may want to be left alone, but it’s nice to know that he’s not alone.

Especially not today.

Today did not start out good for Kurt.

Kurt woke up later than he’d intended, and when he did, he couldn’t remember where he was. Sebastian had woken up and gotten out of bed hours earlier, leaving Kurt alone to sleep in. Kurt climbed out of bed and wandered around frightened, hands crawling along the walls, searching for something familiar. Footsteps passed somewhere underneath him, and he froze. He didn’t want to venture downstairs because he didn’t know who could be there. Maybe someone had broken in, or worse - this was somebody else’s house, and Kurt was the intruder.

His heart raced. He started hyperventilating. He went from room to room, trying to figure out where he was and why he was there. It wasn’t until the second time he went into his studio that he began to remember. He saw his bag on the floor and, beside it, his sketchbook. He remembered sitting in there the day before, making plans. He remembered the wood grain of the floor, the dusty glass, the tree outside, the wallpaper, and that ripped corner by the window, which Kurt refuses to acknowledge any more than he has to.

He feels it behind him, like the sun on his back, trying to get him to turn his face to it, but he refuses. Of all the things he needs to deal with, that ripped corner and the word beneath it don’t make the list. It isn't doing the palpitations in his chest any favors.

It confuses him.

It angers him.

It saddens him.

It makes him consider what could have been, forces him to face everything he's lost. He didn't succeed in running away from his problems. He ran headlong into brand new ones.

But this is his house. He has to get used to it.

These episodes aren’t uncommon. They crop up whenever Kurt needs to adapt to change. They’re unexpected, like mines in fields he discovers he’s been running through when a second ago he was picking flowers in the park or strolling down the street.

It's their unpredictability that is the true torture.

They show up even on his good days.

His life for the last ten years revolved around his daughter. When she was a baby, he adjusted his work schedule to match her sleep schedule. They had the money to afford the best nurses in New York, but Kurt didn’t want that. He didn’t want his daughter raised by a governess. He was as hands-on a parent as there ever was.

As Grace grew, her schedule changed, and Kurt adjusted: daycare, Gymboree, kindergarten, ballet, elementary school. He dropped her off in the mornings, then picked her up in the afternoons. They spent the rest of the day going over her homework until it was time to make dinner, which they did together.

That was the great thing about being a designer and freelance editor. Kurt could work from anywhere, and, aside from doing consultations at Vogue, he could work any time.

When Grace became sick, her doctor visits and her medication regimen dictated Kurt's schedule, then her chemo.

Towards the end, there was only one item written in Kurt’s schedule - lie beside his daughter in her bed, holding on to her for dear life.

And not just her life.

His, too.

In sickness and in health, Grace kept Kurt’s life regulated.

Things flipped drastically when she died.

He felt adrift. Detached from the life he had gotten used to, he didn’t know what to latch on to. His internal clock would wake him up at six to get Grace ready for the day, only to find himself walking into a vacant bedroom. At the supermarket, he would grab her favorite cereal out of habit and put it in his cart, even though it wasn’t on the list. He would jolt when he'd come across a song he thought she’d like or saw an advertisement for a movie he thought she’d enjoy.

He has yet to stop the automatic deposits from his bank account to hers, her weekly allowance piling up on top of birthday and Christmas money. She had earmarked it for college (her decision, not his). Now it waits to be donated to the children’s hospital that took such incredible care of her. He doesn’t have the heart to empty it. She was so proud of it.

He doesn’t know what it will do to him to see the balance at zero.

But the worst moment of all, the absolute worst, was when he tried to go back to work right after they lost her.

There are many moments after Grace’s death, during Kurt’s own struggle for acceptance, that blur together, but this one he remembers so vividly, it brings a lump to his throat and tears to his eyes.

He was in the middle of a brainstorming session with his team. His boss Isabelle was there. She had dropped by with a box of cronuts and a grande nonfat mocha. Kurt hadn’t been eating. Everyone could tell. But Kurt overlooked the signs – the sharper than normal angle to his cheekbones and chin, his collarbone that showed through his skin a little too much, his hands that never stopped shaking. He had waved the food away when she offered.

An hour later, he was on his third one.

The tension of his presence in the office so soon after his daughter’s death slowly dissipated, making way for the familiar, though attenuated, back and forth banter he had so missed. Without knowing it, he was paving the way for a potential comeback. He wouldn’t have a line up for a while, and he would need to keep an eye on fashion trends as they came and went in his absence. But this, this felt so natural, so normal, it almost seemed like it was. He got caught up in the rhythm of this impromptu jam session. He smiled, he laughed.

He felt alive again.

Somewhere in the middle of outlining a rough schedule, he glanced down at the time on his phone. Mid-sentence, he got up from his chair and walked over to get his coat off the hook by the door.

“Alright,” he said with a chuckle over Chase’s last clap back at a jab from his boyfriend Ian, “thanks for everything, you guys, but I’ve gotta run. We’ll talk about this more when I come in tomorrow.”

The room went pin-drop silent. Kurt didn’t notice.

“Where are you going?” Isabelle asked, getting up from her seat on the corner of his desk and approaching, knowing that he would need her in a second, the way she always knew. Kurt has referred to Isabelle as his Fairy Godmother ever since he first walked into Vogue fresh out of high school and trying to find a foothold in the hectic Gulf Stream that is New York City. She became his pillar of support, a sympathetic ear, and a clear head whenever he needed one. She had thrown his bachelor party. Hers was the condo he stayed in the night before his wedding. She’d hosted Grace’s baby shower.

Also, Grace’s wake.

She didn’t have children of her own and didn't plan on it, but she loved Grace as much as anyone.

And hers was the shoulder Kurt cried on when he found out Sebastian had cheated.

Kurt looked at her, confused, wondering why it was that everyone around him seemed to be holding their breath. “I just… have to go pick up Grace. From school. I’m going… I’m going to be late.”

Isabelle shook her head and put a hand on his. “Sweetie… ”

It took Kurt a second.

Even after one person gasped and another sniffled, with Isabelle’s sorrowful eyes staring at him, begging him to remember so she wouldn’t have to say it, he didn’t catch on.

When he did, it hit him like an electric shock straight through his body, rendering his muscles useless, and he crumbled to the floor. Isabelle held him for over an hour in that spot until Sebastian arrived. Kurt didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to go to their empty penthouse and face the truth about his empty life. He wanted to stay at Vogue with Isabelle and live in that moment where everything was alright again for one shimmering second, even if it wasn’t real.

But he had to go. He had to leave with Sebastian, who had hurt him, back to his home, even if it killed him because even though he felt like his life was over, everything else continued on. People lived, and people died. The sun set in the evening, but in the morning, it would rise again.

He just didn’t want to be a part of it anymore.

Not without his Grace.

He was cried out by the time Sebastian got him home. Sebastian undressed him, helped him with his cleaning and moisturizing routine, and then put him to bed. It was Friday evening when Kurt shut his eyes and went to sleep. He lived that horrible moment at his office over again a hundred times before he opened his eyes. And when he did, it was Sunday morning.

Like this morning, but to a greater extent, when these attacks happen, locked in his own brain, sifting through the pieces to find one big enough and sturdy enough to hold on to, Kurt loses time.

In a blink, hours go by, sometimes a day. He’ll climb in the shower in the morning, turn the water on hot, and by the time he realizes it’s cold, it’s close to noon. He has sat at the dining room table for breakfast, staring at a bowl of oatmeal, and when he found the will to pick up the spoon, the oatmeal was old and stiff, and it was dinner time. He’s gone to bed on Monday and stared at the black behind his eyelids till Wednesday.

As far as Kurt knows, it’s only around lunchtime, but he glances at the clock in the corner of his screen to make sure.

12:45.

He breathes a sigh of relief. He double-checks the date to make sure he has a reason to and sighs again.

Still Tuesday.

Kurt switches back to the IKEA tab he’d been laboring long but not hard on earlier. He looks at the shopping cart he’s been steadily filling, scrolls through his selections of personality bereft, assembly line furniture, and groans. This isn’t him. This house, this blank slate, should be an endless fount of motivation.

But he's numb.

Maybe he's rushing into this. He should give this house and the neighborhood time to grow on him before he sentences it to the mundane.

He needs a break. (Kurt Hummel need a break from shopping? Since when?) He flips to a new page in his sketchbook. For shits and giggles, he tries drawing a sketch for his husband’s office. He starts with the easy part – Sebastian’s desk. Sebastian didn’t leave that in the penthouse, so Kurt will make it the linchpin and design around it.

Things flow surprisingly easily from there once he gets started, with a pencil in his hand writing on paper instead of working on a screen: an ornamental rug, a matching leather chair, burgundy velvet curtains, a chainmail style Tiffany desk lamp, 1930s art deco décor with a soupcon of Persian flair. But he doesn’t want the room to be too dark. No. Kurt wants nothing in their house to be dark. He adds a Salento chandelier over the open portion of the room and a sweep of color – one wall, opposite a window, a lighter shade than the rest. He doesn’t know what Sebastian’s office looks like, but there has to be a wall in there that will fit the bill.

An enamel and copper vase, a Khatam inlaid photo frame, a few Negar Gari…

Kurt stops.

Would Sebastian want that? The softer elements countering the strict lines of the art deco pieces, what could be described as feminine influences, are Kurt’s signature touch. But might Sebastian prefer the art deco without Kurt’s fingerprints all over it? Isn’t that what Sebastian meant by Kurt being heavy-handed with the pastels?

Back in high school, Kurt had decorated his bedroom so that he and his stepbrother could share it. He'd skipped school so he could complete it in one day. He’d worked hard on it, trying to fuse a masculine air with his theatrical influence. What he thought was an eclectic representation of the masculine and the feminine turned into a Moroccan-themed disaster.

The word his stepbrother chose to use at the time was faggy, but there were ulterior motives behind it.

Sebastian made jabs in high school about Kurt not wearing boy clothes, comments that adult Kurt recognizes as the teenage boy equivalent of pulling Kurt’s pigtails. But at the time, they stung. Sebastian wouldn’t have made those comments if there weren’t a grain of truth to them, would he?

Sebastian has never retracted those statements, so as far as Kurt is concerned, they stand.

Kurt flips his pencil over and starts erasing. He’ll pare down the extras – trade the Tiffany lamp for a banker’s lamp, replace the rug with something more Brooks Brothers than Pier 1.

Maybe he should just opt for another IKEA recreation, but that feels like copping out, going back on his word.

He could always ask Sebastian. He swears his husband has passed by a few times, his footsteps rising and falling outside his door, but Kurt didn’t think anything of it. He figures Sebastian is passing through on his way to get something from the bedroom that he needs downstairs. Kurt doesn’t imagine the man is pacing the hallway, even if he is, trying to find a way to tell Kurt that lunch is ready. Little things like lunch, innocuous things, have become huge divides over the past few months. With anyone else, Sebastian has a history of railroading over them, hurt feelings be damned.

But Sebastian has learned his lesson. He paid a hefty price learning it, too.

Contemplating between clearing his throat so that Kurt knows he’s there and letting another meal go cold, he sees Kurt’s head lift up. It seems like an opening. Whether or not it is, Sebastian takes it.

“Lunch is ready.”

“Mm-hmm,” Kurt mumbles, brushing eraser shavings aside.

“Are you… are you coming downstairs?”

Kurt erases again, then pencils something on a sheet of paper that Sebastian can’t see. “Hmm… mmm?”

It sounds like a question and an answer, but since Kurt doesn’t follow it up with anything, it most likely means that Kurt will be skipping lunch… again. Sebastian knocks idly on the door frame, giving Kurt a second longer to tell him for sure.

“Alright.” Disappointed, he turns to leave. “I guess I’ll come back up at dinner then.”

Kurt doesn’t know why the thought returns when he wasn’t even thinking about it, why it decided to nag at his brain when he had been able to ignore it for this long, but that’s the way his brain works now. His thoughts don’t always travel straight paths. They twist and turn, taking one thing and linking it to something unrelated. Erasing the ideas he’d sketched out, removing every inch of himself from Sebastian’s office, made him think about how eager he was to be rid of that word darling from above the window, and that ripped corner returns to his mind with a vengeance.

Well, as long as Sebastian is there, he might as well ask.

“Sebastian?”

Sebastian pauses in the doorway, not daring to move. “Yes?”

“When was the last time you were here?” Kurt raised an eyebrow at the idea when it originally came to him. When would Sebastian have come to this house that Kurt didn’t know? They traveled Upstate once a year, but they always did it together as a family. And while they were here, Sebastian rarely ventured out alone. Sebastian isn’t the kind of person who would buy a house sight unseen.

Unless he had found it during one of his outings with Grace. Which would mean that Grace had seen the inside.

Grace would have seen this room and thought it would be hers, thought that they would someday live here, and Sebastian hid that word darling by the window for her and not Kurt.

The thought is so painful, it makes Kurt want to tear his nails out with his teeth so he’ll stop thinking about it.

Sebastian keeps his eyes locked to Kurt’s profile so he won’t miss the moment Kurt decides to look at him instead of the floor, the wall, or the ceiling.

“I found this house online. It wasn’t even on the market when I stumbled on it. To be honest, I’d only driven by it once. I hadn’t been inside until we moved in.”

“But you saw the inside,” Kurt asks. “Otherwise, how would you know about this room?”

“I took a virtual tour,” Sebastian admits sheepishly, “but it was extremely thorough. I’ve seen the blueprints, gone over the permits and the zoning. I had Tristan from the office look over the place when he came up to visit his folks. He facetimed me while he was here.” Sebastian furrows his brow. “Why? Is something wrong?”

Kurt’s heart beats regular again. Grace hadn’t seen it.

Thank God.

His eyes find the torn section of wallpaper, but they don’t stay there. He doesn’t want to clue Sebastian in about it if Sebastian doesn’t already know. He wants to uncover this mystery on his own. If Sebastian gets to keep secrets, big ones at that, then Kurt wants this one for himself.

“No, no. Nothing’s wrong. I was just curious, you know. Wanted to understand your process. Why this house, why this neighborhood, that sort of thing.”

Kurt’s sentence comes out choppy. It’s odd how awkward talking has become for them. Sebastian used to think that the two things they had mastered were talking and fucking. They did both together with such ease. There were never any boundaries between them, emotionally or physically. Even when they were cutting each other down, which they did in the beginning, they did so with such finesse.

Not like now, when Sebastian is walking on eggshells and Kurt doesn’t want to hear half of what he has to say.

“If you come down for lunch, we can talk about my process. If you’re curious, that is.” Sebastian watches Kurt expectantly, waiting for an answer.

And while Sebastian does, Kurt looks at his sketch – Sebastian’s office, the same way Sebastian always has it decorated. This is Sebastian without him and Grace: bland and emotionless, no light, little color, and no joy. Nothing exciting, nothing nuanced, nothing to indicate that he and Sebastian are together.

Not even those snapshots he’s so proud of.

Kurt hasn’t decided whether that’s a bleak picture or not.

“Sure. I’ll be down in a sec,” Kurt decides because he does and doesn’t have an answer to that one. It changes as the day changes, and the days change too quickly.

“Alright. I’ll be waiting.” Sebastian walks away, or Kurt thinks he does. He checks the time on his clock. It’s closing in on 2.

Kurt glances up at the window, the dangling wallpaper bouncing with the breeze coming from a draft near the ceiling. It would be so easy to tear it down – grab an edge and rip, be done with it once and for all. It might even feel cathartic, exposing whatever is underneath it. But lunch is ready. He’s already left Sebastian waiting long enough.

He leaves that mystery for another day.

#kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #sebastian smythe #kurt hummel

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quickspinner · 4 years ago

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Killer Combo Ch 7 - The Final Showdown

I sincerely apologize to everyone who prefers short chapters, as this is another really long one. Pace yourselves as necessary, and thank you so much for persevering to the end with me. I'm so grateful for everyone who has read and liked or reblogged or replied, and I hope though the journey is uh, long, you will find it satisfying. You can search *** for the scene breaks if you need to stop and come back.

Kagami, predictably, was not happy when Marinette returned alone, but Juleka’s vindictive smirk when she heard what her brother was doing was enough to convince Kagami to delay any plans of vengeance she might have been making. “I hope he gives that bitch the earful she deserves,” Juleka muttered darkly, and then snorted. “But knowing Luka, he won’t. He’ll be all gentle and patient and she’ll keep arguing for way longer than he should let her before she realizes she might as well be talking to a brick wall.”

“You don’t think,” Marinette began, and then stopped, reaching up to smooth her hair self-consciously, shifting her weight on her feet and feeling like a fool as several pairs of knowing eyes turned her way.

Juleka arched an eyebrow, but her smile was sympathetic. “I definitely don’t think,” she said warmly, reaching out to squeeze Marinette’s shoulder in a move that reminded her strongly of Luka. “Luka’s very perceptive and empathetic. It makes him too gentle sometimes, but he’s no pushover. She might think she has a chance, but he’s been over her for a long time. Even if he hadn’t... met anybody , she wouldn’t get anywhere with him.” She grabbed Marinette’s hand and pulled her towards the dance floor, reaching out her other hand to snag Rose on her way. “Now enough about my stupid brother, we only have like an hour of party left, let’s go have fun.”

Marinette giggled, grabbing Kagami’s arm and pulling her along.

Kagami had offered to let her stay overnight at the mansion, but Marinette had declined in favor of a ride home. She crept into her room as quietly as she could, sent her parents a text to let them know she was home just in case one of them woke up and worried, and went to wash her makeup off and get ready for bed.

Her phone beeped just as she was drying off her face, and she picked it up to find a text from Luka. Just letting you know I made it home. Sorry for leaving so suddenly.

Marinette sighed, and smiled slightly as she answered him. It’s okay, I understand. Did you get everything worked out in the end? She chewed her lip as she sent the message, but she needed to know, and there really wasn’t any good way to ask the question. She finished up with her moisturizer and climbed the stairs up to her bed, wincing at the ache in her feet.

She sat cross-legged on her bed to read his reply. As much as it can be. She’s not happy, but making her happy isn’t my job anymore. She got the message, finally, and that’s all that matters to me.

Before she’d even finished reading that one, another message came in.

I know it’s really late and I’ll understand if you don’t want to, but I’d really like to hear your voice one more time. Is it okay if I call?

Marinette really wanted to hear his voice too. Before she could second-guess herself too much, she hit the call button.

He picked up immediately. “Hey,” he said softly, voice a little rough and tired-sounding but still enough to make her feel warm and remember the soft touch of his lips against hers.

“Hi,” she said shyly, suddenly breathless.

“Marinette,” he sighed, and she had to smile at the way he said her name, like he was relieved and happy and exhausted all at once. “I just wanted to say I am so, so sorry about how everything went down tonight, and also...thank you. I think I got some closure tonight that I really needed, and it was really thanks to you and your friends, and...and I’m just incredibly grateful. And I totally owe you a rain check on the party date because I was having a great time until—” he sighed again. “All that other stuff. Your friends are pretty cool.”

“Yeah,” Marinette smiled, picking at the hem of her pants. “They really are. We’ve had our ups and downs, but the ones that have stuck around, they’re really amazing.” She sighed slightly through her nose, brow furrowing in annoyance. “And I’m really sorry you haven’t had the same experience.”

“Well,” Luka said, and the smile in his voice made her smile too, “I got a taste of it tonight. It’s nice to know friendships like that really exist. I mean, I know they do, I’ve had some...still have some, even if they’re far away, but...okay, I’m rambling and I’m keeping you awake and you’re probably just as tired as I am, but I just, um...I wanted to…” He took a deep breath, and went on a little too quickly, “When I kissed you tonight, I wasn’t, I didn’t do anything right and I was kind of overwhelmed and not thinking clearly, but I want you to know I really—”

“Wait,” Marinette said quickly, her heart suddenly pounding. “Wait. I think...Luka, if it’s okay with you, I think I’d rather talk about this in person. Maybe when we’re both a little clearer headed than we are right now?”

“Yeah,” Luka said slowly. “Yeah, okay, I guess that makes sense. So...when can I see you in person?”

Marinette winced, turning and pulling down her schedule. “I have so much to do this week,” she nearly moaned, fisting a hand in her hair and tugging hard.

“Hey,” he said, and something in his voice made Marinette cringe. “It’s okay.”

“No, I want to, I promise I’m not blowing you off, I really want to talk about this with you, it’s just—of course everything always has to happen at once and…ugh, timing. �� Marinette chewed her lip, scanning across the week, trying to find some time. Surely she could spare him ten minutes somewhere...but was the conversation they needed to have something that she really could rush? What was she even doing, why didn’t she just let him say what he wanted to say, why was she...she was…

Hesitating. Why was she hesitating? Marinette chewed her lip and blew out a frustrated breath, forgetting that Luka was still on the phone. She jumped when he spoke again.

“Marinette,” Luka said, his tone gentle, and she made a distracted noise of acknowledgement. “Listen. Don’t sweat it. I know you have your presentation this week and the tournament, right? If you’re busy and you need some space, that’s fine. Don’t worry about it. We can settle this afterwards. I’m not going anywhere. Well. Not until we talk, at least.”

Marinette’s eyes landed on the weekend, colored in red and outlined in black. “The tournament,” she said softly. “The championship. We could...we could talk there? Maybe after?”

Luka was silent for a moment, and Marinette heard him take a deep breath. “Is that the best time?” he said cautiously. “Do we really want to have that on our minds?”

“You know what,” Marinette said, beginning to smile. “I think it’s the perfect time. It’s where we met, afterall.”

“Well,” Luka said, and she could tell he was smiling too. “There is a certain poetry to that.”

“Okay,” Marinette said, her smile growing into a grin. “After I’m done kicking your ass in the finals, then.”

“Oh, brave words from the lady with the forty percent win rate against me,” he laughed, and Marinette made a face.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Max,” she accused.

“Max is a fun guy,” Luka chuckled. “Not as much fun as you, but you know, he has his moments.”

Why was she so pleased at that, that he preferred her company over Max, ugh she was pathetic. She covered a giggle anyway, but it turned into a yawn.

“I’ll let you go to sleep,” Luka said, amusement clear in his voice. “Good luck this week, Marinette, and I’ll see you this weekend and...we’ll talk.”

“Yes,” Marinette nodded decisively, though he couldn’t see her. “We will.”

***

Two days later and elbow deep in unfinished clothes that were supposed to be runway ready in less than twenty-four hours, Marinette was actually feeling good about her decision to defer her talk with Luka.

Not everyone agreed, however.

“ Girl ,” Alya screeched from Marinette’s floor, where she was hammering rivets into a jacket. Max winced from where he was sitting at Marinette’s desk, pliers in his hand and a spool of jewelry wire next to him. “Why did you do that?”

Marinette sighed, and bit her lip. “Because—”

“Because what? ” Alya demanded.

“Because I need to be the one to say it,” Marinette sighed, as she rearranged the fabric on her sewing machine. “It’s just...it’s something I need to do, Alya. I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Oh I understand,” Alya sighed. “I just think it’s silly. You could be making out right now if you’d just let him say his piece.”

“First of all,” Marinette grumbled. “You don’t know that, you’re making assumptions. He could have been about to say he really values my friendship and he doesn’t want anything to change. Second, I have way too much to do this week. I wouldn’t have time for making out even if I did have a hot new boyfriend to do it with. Third, I just...I told you, I need to do it. I need to know that I can put myself out there and tell a boy I like him and not just...let it happen to me.”

“You must have done that lots of times, Marinette, what about all those guys you made out with that last year of high school?”

Marinette rolled her eyes, glancing at Max with a blush, though he was studiously ignoring the conversation, focused on the task in front of him. “It’s not even close to being the same thing.” She felt a little ashamed, actually, of the way she’d used some of those guys, even though they were usually more than happy to be used and she’d never been dishonest with any of them. “This isn’t about just kissing and proving to myself that someone can like me and be attracted to me. It’s not just as simple as asking a cute guy to a party, I just…” She sighed. “It’s the first time I’ve really felt like this since then, with all the butterflies and the fear and the...the…”

“Passion?” suggested Alya smugly, and Marinette rolled her eyes again.

“Whatever. The point is, I just need to be the one to say it, and I want to do it face to face.”

“Well, maybe you’re right and I don’t really get it,” Alya sighed. “It sounds like he’s pretty into you, so it seems like you’re splitting unnecessary hairs. But I guess you do what you have to do, girl.”

“I will,” Marinette said firmly, “And what I need to do now is get these garments finished for my presentation so I can put that to bed and focus on beating my gorgeous potential boyfriend this weekend before I confess my—”

“Yeeees?” Alya teased.

“Feelings,” Marinette finished with a flush. “Look, can we be done talking about this now?”

“Fine,” Alya rolled her eyes and put the hammer down, stretching her fingers. “I’m going to go grab some water, do you guys want some?”

“Yes, please,” Marinette and Max chorused together, and Alya stood up. Before heading to the trap door, she crossed the room to look over Max’s shoulder at the wire he was twisting to match the sketch Marinette had given him.

“Wow, Max, you’re surprisingly good at that,” Alya commented, and Max gave her a look over his glasses.

“I know my way around wires and a pair of pliers, thank you very much,” Max sniffed. “It’s not that different from wiring a circuit board.”

“Well, the next time you need help with something like that, count me in,” Marinette said, frowning as she tried to untangle the mess her bobbin had mysteriously become. “I owe you guys sooooo much for this.”

“I will give your offer due consideration when the time inevitably comes,” Max replied. “Incidentally, do you happen to have another ticket to the show? I seem to have misplaced mine.”

“Max, really?” Alya sighed, heading towards the trap door. “You’re going to ask her that now? Have you checked under your piles of nerd crap?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Marinette said, reaching over to grab a decorated box on her desk and rummage through it. “Here you go, Max. Kagami can’t make it so I had one more than I needed anyway.”

“Thank you, Marinette,” Max said, with a grin that would have made her look twice if she hadn’t been so preoccupied.

As it was she barely noticed it, and forgot it entirely until much later, when her presentation was over and the high of achievement and the exhilaration of her first really professional fashion show were finally wearing off and she was about to fall into bed for the night. As she fumbled to plug her phone into the charger, she noticed a text on the screen and paused.

It was from Luka.

You were fantastic up there. Sorry I couldn’t stay long enough to see you after. Congratulations, all the hard work paid off.

Marinette gaped at the phone for a moment. You were there? she texted back, and then berated herself for not checking the time first. He was probably asleep, he must have sent that text hours ago.

Even as she thought it, her phone pinged with a response.

Yeah, I hope that was okay. Tell Max thanks for the ticket. ;)

Marinette gaped again, and then pouted for a moment before hitting the call button.

Luka picked up right away. “Surprise,” he said, laughter in his warm voice.

“Max is a sneak,” Marinette pouted, though she was trying not to smile. “And I’m going to kill him.”

“Max is a sneak,” Luka agreed. “But don’t be mad. I ran into him the other day and asked how you were, and we got to talking, and I let it slip that I really wished I could be there, and he gave me his ticket on the spot. Made me promise not to tell you until after, though. I would’ve stayed to say congrats but I had a gig I had to get to, and...well I didn’t want to make things weird.”

“I’m glad you were there,” Marinette smiled, and then added shyly, “You really think I did well?”

“You did amazing,” he said sincerely, and Marinette felt a thrill that made her wiggle a little in place. “I know a thing or two about stage presence, and you’ve definitely got it. I’m really glad I got to see you present. And...well I can’t claim to know much about fashion, but I really liked what you did.”

A hot flush raced up her face and she slapped a hand over it even though he couldn’t see her.

“Marinette? You okay?”

Marinette made an affirmative noise. “Sorry. I just...that makes me really happy. That you think so. That you liked it. I—” She made a high pitched whine. “I’m not making any sense.”

“It’s late and you’re tired,” Luka chuckled. “It’s fine. I don’t want to keep you up any longer, I just wanted to let you know I was there. Juleka said it was creepy to show up without telling you.”

Marinette giggled. “Well, she maybe has a point. I would have gotten tickets for you and Juleka both if you had asked.”

“Sorry,” Luka sighed, and she heard a thump that she thought might be his head hitting a table. “I promise, I didn’t mean anything by it, I just...I knew it was important to you and…I know you needed space and I didn’t want to confuse anything and—” He cut off with a strangled noise and sighed. “Okay, I’m going to tell you good night now and hang up before I dig myself any deeper.”

Marinette had to bite her lip to stop her giggling, “You don’t have to be sorry. I’m really glad you were there, Luka. Really. That...it was important to me, and it’s an important part of me, and I didn’t think about it before but...I’m really glad I got to show you that. Seeing you play on stage, I felt like I really got to see an important side of you that I didn’t know anything about, so...I hope maybe tonight was like that for you.” She bit her tongue, feeling like she wasn’t explaining herself well.

“It was,” Luka said, his voice softening a little in a way that made her shiver. “It really was, and…” He paused, and cleared his throat. “Well. I know you’ve been working hard and I don’t want to keep you up any later. I just wanted to tell you I thought you did great tonight and I’m super impressed, as always. Get some sleep, okay?”

“Sleep,” Marinette repeated, hand still over her face. “Sleep would be good. Maybe for like a week.”

“You’ve really been running hard, huh,” Luka said sympathetically. “Once all this is over, we’ll take some time and just hang out and relax. I’ll play for you.”

“Really?” Marinette perked up.

“Yeah,” Luka chuckled. “Just like that day on the boat.”

“That was nice,” Marinette smiled, finally letting her hand slide down off her face.

“Mm. It really was.”

There was a long pause.

“I should—” she began, just as he said, “You should—” and they both laughed.

“Good night, Marinette,” Luka said at last. “Rest well.”

“Good night, Luka,” Marinette murmured. “See you soon.”

“Soon,” he repeated, and hung up.

A few minutes later her phone beeped with one final text.

Can’t wait to see you this weekend.

Marinette sent back a single pink heart and fell back giggling onto her bed, kicking her feet for a second in a brief burst of energy before she crawled under the covers and fell asleep with a grin on her face.

When Max showed up for practice the next day, she punched him in the arm, and then threw her arms around his neck. “You’re a great friend,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “And I hate you.”

Max just chuckled and patted her back.

***

The morning of the UMSIII Master League Championship, Marinette was a fluttering, nervous wreck. That wasn’t totally unexpected, and her parents put up cheerfully with her clumsiness, absentmindedness, and confusion, giving her gentle encouragement and moving the breakables quietly out of her path. Finally they kissed her goodbye, handed her the bag she’d been about to forget, and promised that they would be in the stands with the rest of her friends.

She leaned her head on the cool metal rail of the subway and tried to breathe. There was a lot on the line today. Marinette was fairly confident she could place, but...she wanted to win. There was a steep drop in the prize value between first and second place and an even sharper drop between second and third. She wanted to do well, yes, but really she wanted to win.

Luka wanted to win too, and that made her stomach twist. She hadn’t seen him in person since the night of the party. Other than their brief conversations, Marinette had been trying not to think too hard about him, to focus on the competition in her practice sessions with Max, but she wasn’t entirely successful. A lot of things had fallen into place for her since she’d seen him on stage. Now she understood how he played to the crowd in his interviews, the way he could project his voice in a crowd, the calm, easy going demeanor he kept up even in the heat of competition. He was used to pressure, he was used to crowds, he was a trained vocalist, and he enjoyed having an audience. Marinette felt like she had a much better picture of him in her mind now, a better understanding of who he was, and everything she knew just made her want to know more.

She was determined to tell him so.

But first she had to get through the tournament. And some small, ugly little part of her was afraid. Would he still want to talk to her if she beat him?

Of course he would. It was ridiculous to think otherwise. It was just a game, after all.

A game with both their dreams on the line.

She almost missed her metro stop.

Marinette swallowed hard as she walked up to the huge stadium and showed her player pass to the guard. She was on her own for the moment; the individual finals would be held in the afternoon and the team competition in the evening, so Max couldn’t come with her. Marinette was the only player in the finals for both the individual and the team championship. Well, and Luka. Technically he was still part of the team, even if he wouldn’t play.

She was escorted to a small lounge area where other players had already begun to congregate. She scanned the room but didn’t see Luka. Marinette wandered back and forth aimlessly, growing more and more restless the longer they were stuck waiting, her thoughts growing scattered and fragmented and her hands starting to shake slightly. She wished she’d brought her sketchbook, or some knitting. Something, anything, to vent her energy on and focus her mind.

A touch on her shoulder made her jump and she whirled around to find Luka behind her, looking surprised and then apologetic, shoulders hunching slightly. “Sorry. I called your name, but…” He shrugged and held out a bottle of water, a slow smile spreading over his face. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Marinette smiled shyly back. “Sorry, I guess I was zoned out.” She took the bottle and twisted off the cap. “Too much energy and nowhere to spend it.” She took a sip, peeking at him around the bottle. He wasn’t wearing his Viperion hoodie, but his old one, with her red stitching at the seams. She focused on the logo on his chest as she lowered the bottle. “New shirt?”

“Yeah,” Luka rolled his eyes. “The league sent it to me. Apparently they don’t want their vintage branding on the livestream tonight, so they asked me to wear the new logo.”

Marinette huffed a quiet laugh. “Naturally.” She wrinkled her nose slightly. “The old one was better.”

“Right?” Luka groaned. “I almost wore it anyway, but…” He shrugged. “Wasn’t worth the fight, to be honest.”

Marinette started to ask why he hadn��t worn his Viperion hoodie, but changed her mind, not sure that she wanted to know the answer. Instead she blurted, “You look good,” and promptly wanted to kick herself. He did look good; the new shirt fit him better than the old one, his hair was styled more deliberately than usual and the color in it looked recently touched up, bright and vibrant. He was freshly shaved and, she was pretty sure, wearing a touch of makeup, probably to keep from looking washed out under the lights. Of course he would consider those things. Was that peach lipstick? It was a good color on him.

Oh God she was staring.

“You do too,” Luka smiled, reaching up to brush her pigtail back behind her shoulder. suddenly he winced and jerked his hand back quickly. “Sorry, I shouldn’t—sorry if I’m—”

“It’s okay,” Marinette said, catching the hand he was pulling back. “Really, Luka, I don’t mind. I know it’s how you connect. I know you won’t do anything inappropriate, and I don’t mind the rest, so just don’t worry about it.”

Luka relaxed, and she squeezed his hand before letting go of it. “Thanks,” he said, reaching up to run a hand through his hair and stopping just in time. He tilted his head slightly, looking at Marinette, who found herself beginning to fidget again. “Are you okay?”

Marinette smiled, but her face felt like wood. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

Luka raised his eyebrows slightly, and Marinette noticed absently that he was wearing eyeliner. “You don’t look fine,” he observed, and nudged the hand holding the water bottle. “Drink. It’s going to be crazy once things get going. Better to start hydrating now.”

Marinette drank, more because she didn’t feel like arguing than from actually believing she needed it. “How can you be so calm?” she asked with a gusty sigh after she lowered the bottle.

Luka shrugged and flashed a grin. “Don’t forget I’ve done this before. Helps that I was practically raised on stage, so the lights, the effects, none of that really bothers me.” He put a hand on her shoulder and massaged gently. “I’m honestly a little surprised to see you so tense. I didn’t think anything would rattle you after seeing you up on stage before. You owned it and you didn’t look nervous at all.”

“That was fashion,” Marinette hissed, glancing at the other competitors. “And I was busy. I didn’t have time to freak out. Not like this, with all the...the waiting. ” She tugged at her pigtails and resisted the urge to whine. “I just want to get started already! Just—all this—” she flapped her hands, trying to indicate the pent-up energy inside her. “There’s nowhere for it to go.”

“Ah.” Luka glanced away, and then looked at her again. “I don’t know if it would help, but...want to meditate with me? I always try to meditate for at least a few minutes before I have to go on stage. Or into a competition.”

Marinette blinked at him, for a moment and he shrugged. “But if you don’t want to, it’s fine, I know it’s a little weird, to think about sitting still when you’re so worked up—”

“No, I—that sounds good.” Marinette glanced around. “But where—”

Luka tipped his head to indicate a direction and Marinette followed him to a corner of the lounge where there was an old, battered, but currently empty sofa. He sat down and Marinette sat next to him. She glanced around a little self-consciously but most of the competitors were focused on their own pre-game rituals. The nervous chatterers were congregated together, fidgeting back and forth as they all talked over each other. Several others had headphones and closed eyes, a couple were pacing, and the only other female competitor in the room was staring at the ground, mumbling with her eyes closed and her weight shifting from foot to foot. No one was paying the two of them any mind at all.

“Everybody’s too worried about their own game to care what we do,” Luka murmured, slipping a guitar pick out of his pocket and rotating it in his fingers. “Don’t worry about them, just focus on you.” He held the pick between his thumb and forefinger and breathed in slowly, and then out, closing his eyes.

Marinette watched him for a moment, then placed one hand over the other in her lap, palms up, and did the same. It took some effort to keep from fidgeting, to force the circumstances from her mind and bring her scattered focus to her breathing and the flow of her energy, but Luka’s calm presence and the slow, regular swell of his ribs moving his arm against hers, helped her settle her mind.

As she breathed, the nervous flutters ebbed. She felt more solidly in her skin than she had all day. The tension was still there, but it was more focused now, less chaotic. She felt worlds better...but a little guilty.

“You shouldn’t be helping me so much,” Marinette murmured, her eyes still closed.

Luka’s shoulder vibrated against hers as he chuckled. “Have you looked at the brackets? Clearly the marketing geniuses have been at work because we don’t face each other until the finals. I want you to be there, not flame out from nerves in your first matchup.” After a moment he added quietly, “And you’re my friend. I can’t see you unhappy and not help. You’ve done a lot for me too, you know.”

Marinette unfolded her hands and fumbled blindly beside her. She found his forearm and slid her hand down to slip her fingers through his and squeezed.

“I’m really glad I met you, Luka,” she whispered. “Whatever happens today, I hope we can...” She hesitated, not wanting to say stay friends, because that wasn’t what she wanted. She opened one eye and peeked at him, and saw his eyes open as well as he smiled at her. His thumb caressed the back of her hand lightly.

“I hear you,” he said softly, and the drop in his voice made her insides quiver pleasantly. She was suddenly extremely aware of the rough skin of his hand enveloping hers, the warmth of where their shoulders pressed together. “I’m glad we met too. I want you to be in my life, no matter what happens today.”

Marinette had to press her lips together to contain her smile. “Yeah...me too.”

Luka glanced at the other players and gently extracted his hand. He took Marinette’s wrist and put her hand back on her own knee before curling his fingers back together and closing his eyes. Marinette understood, folding her hands back together and deepening her breathing again. It wouldn’t do for them to be cuddling too obviously in front of everyone else. There would already be talk, she was sure, if Ladybug and Viperion began dating after the tournament was over, no matter who won.

But before she could think of that, she had to win.

And before she could even think about beating Luka, she had other competitors to worry about. He was right. She needed to focus and not let the situation get the better of her.

She stayed there, meditating alongside Luka, until the handlers came to get the players and walk them through their entrances and the procedures between matches. The sight of the jumbotron overhead and the giant stadium full of currently empty but soon-to-be-packed seats made Marinette’s nerves flare up again. Luka’s hand squeezed her shoulder, bringing her focus back to the moment.

“Hey,” he murmured when she looked up at him. “It’s just another match. The livestream’s just a little more up close and personal than we’re used to.” He grinned at her. “They’re all coming to see Ladybug and Viperion face off.”

Marinette grinned back, and then brought her attention back to the handler explaining the procedure and reiterating the rules.The quarter finals and semifinals would be best two out of three, and the finals best three out of five. Matches would be held simultaneously using the pyrapods set up at ground level, and at the back, an elevated stage contained two pyrapods that would be used for the finals.

None of this was news and Marinette was back to shifting from foot-to-foot impatiently, checking the time. Luka seemed as calm and relaxed as ever, but she could see the tightness beginning around his eyes and knew he was ready to get started too.

Finally they were dumped back in the lounge, and Marinette went to the restroom. She’d done the rest of her routine at home, but she wanted her makeup mask fresh and bright. The ritual of putting it on, dusting the red mask across her eyes and drawing in her spots, calmed some of her resurging nerves, and when she straightened up from the mirror, Ladybug looked back at her.

Ladybug was not going to lose because of stage fright.

Marinette reached back into her makeup bag and hesitated as her hand found her tube of black lipstick. She bit her lip and looked at her reflection again. The championship seemed like a bad time to be making changes, but…

Marinette swapped the black lipstick for red and painted her lips with quick, decisive movements, and then snapped the cap back on with a quiet click. She made sure her pigtails were still tight and secure, tapped her lucky earrings three times, and then zipped up her bag and went back to the lounge, already feeling more confident and ready to compete.

Luka caught her eye immediately when she stepped back inside, and she saw him grin at the change, but then the competitors were being herded out of the lounge and into the tunnel they would take into the arena.

In the chaos, she felt Luka’s hand wrap around hers and squeeze, and quickly let go. The competitors milled around in the tunnel aimlessly, well back from the fog machine spewing smoke near the entrance, until two production assistants dressed in black brusquely took charge and lined them up in a supposedly randomly generated but very important order, warning them to not, under any circumstances, shuffle the order or cross the line before their names were called or move from their place in line. Marinette found herself in the middle of the line, with Luka right beside her. “Random, huh,” Luka chuckled. “Yeah, right.”

“They’re really hyping us up,” Marinette agreed.

“Guess we better not let them down.” Luka and Marinette exchanged a look, and then a fistbump. “See you in the finals, Ladybug,” he grinned.

“I’ll be there,” she grinned back. “You better not stand me up, Viperion.”

“Never.”

“Oh my God, get a room,” muttered the guy on Marinette’s other side. “You two are disgusting.”

Marinette flushed, but Luka just chuckled again. “Aww, Pharaoh, you know I love beating you too, it’s just not in the cards today, man.”

Pharaoh scowled over Marinette’s head at him. “Kiss my ass, snake boy.”

“Oh, when Ladybug here’s done kicking it you’re gonna need somebody to,” Luka said, winking at Marinette. “‘Fraid I’ll be busy, though. Tagger can do it for me, he’ll be free.”

“I hate you so much,” Tagger, Luka’s first round opponent, grumbled from down the line. “Fucking cocky bastard.”

Marinette giggled, and Luka nudged her shoulder playfully with his. She looked up into his face and she could see the thrill of competition beginning to get to him, in his pirate grin and the sparkle in his eyes, and the challenge there sparked Marinette’s own competitive spirit.

“He’s not wrong,” she said, arching an eyebrow. “I thought the very same thing to myself during our first match.” Luka feigned being struck in the heart.

“Betrayal!” he laughed. “I’m not cocky, I’m right. It’s not boasting if you can back it up.”

“You can back it up all the way to second place.” Marinette poked him in the chest and he grabbed her hand, leaning down over her with a grin.

“Don’t make me break out Max’s win percentages again.”

“The numbers can’t help you now,” Marinette shot back, pulling her hand free. She stepped up close to him and looked up into his face, shoulders back and hands on her hips. “We’re starting with a clean slate today and all that matters is here and now. I hope you enjoyed winning all those matches, Viperion, because it’s only going to make it sweeter when I finally take you down.”

Luka bit his lip, and Marinette quirked her eyebrow a little higher, and then Pharaoh coughed, making them both jump. “We’re still here, you know,” he said sardonically as Marinette and Luka turned away from each other, Luka clearly fighting a grin, pink coloring the high points of his cheeks, and Marinette turning a brilliant red that she could only hope would fade before she was announced.

Mercifully the announcer began calling names, distracting everyone as a murmur of excitement went down the line.

Suddenly there was no one in front of Marinette and her heart began to pound.

“Ladybug!” the announcer roared, and the crowd erupted into a deafening roar that startled her. Marinette wasn’t given time to hesitate, though; the production assistant planted a hand in the middle of her back and shoved her forward into the fog. For a moment she was blind and confused, but then she stumbled out of the fog and into the bright lights of the stadium. Marinette quickly pasted on a wide smile and raised her arms to wave with both hands to the crowd, though her knees felt like jelly at the sight of so many people and her own promo picture on the jumbotron, smirking at the camera in full makeup and a challenging posture.

Somehow she made it across the field to her mark next to Pharaoh, and then the announcer was calling Viperion, and she turned her head, clapping automatically as Luka emerged from the fog and waved, looking completely at ease with his usual relaxed smile as he sauntered over to stand next to her. Part of the stadium started up a chant for him and he waved again, ducking his head slightly. Suddenly a competing chant of Ladybug! Ladybug! came up and Luka nudged her with a grin. She raised a slightly shaky hand to wave back, and then Luka made a settle down gesture with his hands. Marinette copied him and the chants died down so the announcer could call the next player.

Marinette curled her fingers together, willing herself not to take Luka’s hand or grab onto his sleeve. Beside her, Luka folded his arms, and she wondered if he was fighting the same urge to touch her. He glanced at her and then quickly away, and her cheeks warmed, and she quickly aimed her suddenly much more sincere smile at the crowd, waving again.

“You’ve got this, Ladybug,” Viperion leaned down to whisper when the announcer dismissed them to their pods. “I’ll be cheering for you.”

“Worry about yourself,” Ladybug grinned and winked. “Like you said, I’ve got this.”

Viperion grinned and shook his head as they separated.

Marinette was still nervous but smiling as she stepped into her pod and picked up her headset. “Viperion’s going to be so disappointed when I beat you,” Pharaoh said as soon as the channel was active. “Poor little Ladybug’s about to get squashed.”

Marinette snorted. “I hope your game is more interesting than your trash talk,” she snickered. “If that’s as creative as you can get this is going to be really boring.” Pharaoh spluttered and Marinette grinned as the countdown began to blink. The controller in her hands felt like a part of her by now, and she bounced on her toes a little, eager for things to finally begin.

It wasn’t easy; crappy trash talk aside, Pharaoh was a highly ranked player and skilled enough to be a challenge. It was a perfect first match for her, actually, because she had to think to beat him and once her mind was focused and fully immersed in the game, she overcame the few mistakes she’d made early on. She was grinning broadly as she stepped out of the pod and raised her arms to acknowledge the cheers that followed when the announcer boomed out her name as the winner. Even as she did, though, she was looking for the leaderboard on the giant screen above them. At first she saw only her own flushed and happy face, but then the leaderboard reappeared, Viperion’s name blinking and then advancing to the next level.

“Yes!” Marinette squealed, jumping up and down in place. She whipped her head towards Luka’s pod and watched him emerge. He looked up immediately just as she had, and punched the air and looked back at her with a broad grin. They both stood and watched as one by one the other players turned red or blinked green and advanced.

Like Kagami’s party, like her presentation and fashion show, everything seemed to go by in a whirl and a blur. Months of preparation and planning and practice and the slow-motion waiting of the morning gave way to a heart-pounding, adrenaline-pumping whirl as she faced down match after match, dominating some and barely squeaking by others. Before she knew it, she was staring up at the jumbotron while the crowd screamed and the announcer cried, “And this is what we’ve all been waiting for, this is what we all came here to see! The final matchup in the Master League Championship will be! Ladybug! Versus! Viperioooooooon!”

Marinette raised her arms and waved with both hands again as the crowd cheered then she was being ushered off the field, back into the tunnel and then to the backstage area to wait while the runners up duked it out for third and fourth place and the crew made sure everything was set up for the final.

Marinette stared up at the steps to the stage and felt herself start to shake. She didn’t even notice Luka speaking at her side until he took her arm and turned her to face him.

“Marinette, are you okay?” he asked, the grin quickly dropping from his face as he looked at her.

“Yeah,” she said, trying to smile. “I’m f-fine.”

“You’re pale as a ghost.” Luka’s expression was grave and worried and he pulled her over to a chair and pushed her into it. “Sit. Breathe, Marinette. Are you dizzy?”

“I’m fine,” Marinette said, trying to take his advice and slow her breathing. “I’m okay. I just...I need a second.”

She felt Luka move away, but he was back in moments, kneeling in front of her to press a bottle of water into her hand. “Drink,” he ordered, helping her sit up. “Look at me.” He put his fingers under her chin and gently tipped it up so he could look into her eyes. “You’re sure you’re okay? Do you need the medic?”

“No,” Marinette said, taking a deep breath before lifting the water to her trembling lips. “I’m all right, Luka.” She drank and then sighed. “That was just really intense.” She shot a sardonic smile up at him. “It felt really good though.”

Luka grinned as he took her hand between both of his and rubbed it gently. “It’s a rush, no doubt.”

Marinette took another drink and mumbled weakly, “Gonna be even better when I beat you.”

Luka laughed softly and leaned forward, resting his forehead on hers. Something about that touch was very comforting and she leaned into it. “I’m gonna give you a fight, I hope you know that,” Luka told her. “I’m not going to just hand it to you because you’re—” He paused, and Marinette back to look at him. He brought a hand up to cup her cheek, and Marinette wasn’t sure what might have happened if the production assistants hadn’t come looking for them just then. Luka stood up quickly, turning away from her for a moment, and Marinette put a hand over her chest, feeling the frantic flutter of her heart against her palm.

“Head in the game, Ladybug,” Marinette murmured to herself before she shoved up out of her chair, shaking out her limbs and noting that at least her hands weren’t trembling anymore.

It was time. The handlers lined them up shoulder to shoulder, in front of a fog-covered arch similar to the one on the field.

Luka caught her hand and Marinette let him lace their fingers together. His hold was tighter than she expected and she glanced up at him. That competition spark was in his eyes and she could see the tension across his shoulders. He really was pumped up for this.

He let go of her hand before they walked out together through the fog, waving at the cheering. The lights were hotter and brighter on the stage and Marinette’s nerves increased. She turned to shake hands with Luka and met his eyes, feeling like she was standing outside of her body, but simultaneously hyper aware of his touch and the blue of his eyes and the quirk of his smile before his hand slid away and they each turned to get into their pyrapods.

Marinette came back to herself a bit when the pod slid closed behind her, shutting out the lights and the noise. She became aware of how fast she was breathing and made an effort to slow it down before she picked up her headset and put it on.

“Hanging in there, Bug?” Luka asked, and though his voice was teasing she knew he was checking on her.

“You wanted it,” she replied, “I’m gonna bring it.”

“Show me what you got, Ladybug,” he chuckled, and Marinette grinned, pleased that he remembered after all this time. “I can take it.”

The countdown flashed on the screen, and Marinette took one last deep breath. “It’s been a long time since that first match,” Marinette pointed out with a smile. “I’m not the same newbie you played back then.”

“I know,” he said, and she could see his pirate grin in her mind (and she was kind of glad she couldn’t see it projected on the big screen outside; at that magnitude it might actually kill her). “I can’t wait.”

Once they started playing, there was no time to think about anything but the game.

Luka won the first match, and Marinette couldn’t help her sigh, annoyed with herself. She’d been nervous and jumpy in the beginning and it had cost her. She and Luka were so evenly matched at this point that both knew they couldn’t give an inch or make a single mistake. She was going to have to do better.

“It’s just the first match,” she heard Luka say over her headset, and she wasn’t sure if it was meant to comfort her or steady him.

“I never thought it would be easy,” Marinette replied, and then smiled. “So let’s give the people the show they came for.”

“You know it,” he laughed.

The next match was closer but Luka won that one too, and Marinette bit her lip hard, fighting the churning feeling in her stomach. If she lost the next one, that was it; she couldn’t afford to lose any more.

Luka groaned as the third match ended. “Man, how do you do that. I was sure I had you there.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Marinette replied, putting down the controller and shaking out her hands. They trembled slightly from the close call; he really had almost had her, and that would have been the end.

“You really are,” Luka chuckled. “Playing you is never boring, that’s for sure. Okay, just one more match to go.”

“Oh, don’t count your trophies before they’re in the case,” Marinette muttered, narrowing her eyes though a smile tugged at her mouth. “No way I’m letting you take it that easily.”

“We’ll see,” Luka said, and then the countdown started again.

The fourth match turned out to be an easy win for Marinette; Luka misjudged his timing early on and Marinette gave him no time to recover.

Marinette had to take a few more deep breaths as they prepared for the fifth and final match. Her stomach felt like jelly but her hands were steady. One more. She just had to beat him one more time. Either way, all of this would be over soon. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that so she pushed it aside, needing all her focus for the game.

It was close, it was so close. Both of them had just a sliver of health left and Marinette was starting to panic. She’d managed to deflect his first venom strike, but the fight had gone on long enough that the ability had recharged and she hadn’t been able to dodge a second time. He didn’t even have to land another attack; if he held her off long enough, he would win with the recurring damage from the venom strike. She needed to take him out, but he kept interrupting her attacks, taking low level damage from her defensive moves to prevent her from getting a combo attack together. He was gambling that he could hold out until the venom strike wiped out the last of her health bar, and it was a bet he was going to win if Marinette couldn’t get off a decent attack.

She bit her lip and tried to think. His armor has always been his weak point; she just needed to get one killer combo off and he’d be finished. Luka knew it, too. If he failed to interrupt her even once she’d take him out. Every time he attacked her directly, though, he took damage from her shields and counterattack. He could keep gambling on his health to hold out until the venom strike, or if he timed it just right, he could get his stun attack off and freeze her. If he could get the move off, she’d be held just long enough for the venom strike to finish her.

But he couldn’t interrupt her attacks while he was charging the ability. If he tried it, and she was fast enough...she’d have to be so fast. It would have to be bug bombs, they were the fastest, and they should be enough. She’d have to be ready and watching, and...

Will he still want to be with me if I beat him? Or will I just be another girl that ruined his dreams?

The thought was both terrifying and unwelcome but even as it hit her, she saw Viperion draw back and begin to charge a glowing ball between his hands. Marinette had no time to deliberate, no time for hesitation. Her fingers moved and her mech exploded into action. She executed the attack and dropped the controller, grabbing her hair with her hands as she watched.

The stun left Viperion’s hands—and her bug bombs landed. Even as her mech froze in place, Viperion went down in a series of dramatic explosions.

The screen flashed GAME OVER. It flashed up a picture of her mech with the word WINNER over and over.

“Holy sh—,” she heard Luka whisper, but the channel cut off.

She won.

Numbly she reached up and took off her headset as the pod door slid open behind her.

She stepped out shakily, looking up uncomprehendingly at the crowd.

Across from her, Luka’s pod door was sliding open. The second there was room, Luka exploded out, leaping out with one of his deafening whoops as he caught her up in a bearhug that nearly took the breath from her. He swung her around.

“That was amazing,” he shouted, nearly in her ear to be heard over the crowd. “I thought there was no way you could get an attack off fast enough, but you knew—you knew I was going to do it, didn’t you, you were ready, you’re so incredible—”

“Luka,” Marinette gasped, and laughing, Luka set her down on her feet.

Before Marinette could do more than gasp in a breath, he had ducked down and—well she wasn’t sure exactly what he did, but suddenly she shrieked as he ducked his head under her leg and somehow managed to lift her onto his shoulders despite her flailing. He caught her hands and steadied her, and then let go of one hand to pump his fist in the air and cheer for her. Marinette kept a death grip on his other hand but she managed to smile and reach up to wave at the crowd, letting out a breathless laugh once the shock wore off. The crowd was cheering and her face was on the jumbotron, smiling but still looking more stunned than victorious. Luka turned in a slow circle so she could wave at the whole crowd until her arm was sore.

It took her a minute to realize the announcer was trying to get her attention. “Ladybug, you are the Ultimate Mecha Strike III regional champion! Congratulations! How do you feel right now?” A slightly hysterical giggle escaped her at the way he had to hold the microphone up above his head to catch her answer.

“I feel amazing, but my day isn't over yet,” she laughed.

“That’s right, we’ll see you as part of Team Lucky Charm in the team competition later tonight! We’ll be looking forward to that. Viperion, you and Ladybug have had quite the rivalry going on and you were heavily the favorite to win coming into this event. How do you feel about taking second place tonight?”

“I can’t be sore about a loss like that,” Luka laughed. “Of course I wanted to win, but—” He shook her head. “You can’t deny that was brilliant.” He patted Marinette’s leg on his shoulder. “Congratulations, Ladybug. The best player definitely won today.”

“All right, look for more exclusive interview content with Ladybug and Viperion on the blog later tonight,” the announcer said into the microphone, looking up into the crowd. “We’re going to take a short recess to get things ready here and then we’ll be back to bring you the Master League team championship. “Congratulations again, Ladybug and Viperion.”

He gestured them back towards the arch, and Luka carried Marinette back through it, both of them waving at the crowd as they went.

Marinette’s legs felt like jelly as she scrambled down from Luka’s shoulders, and he held her elbows as she swayed slightly, and when she was steady he hugged her tight. “Congratulations.”

“You’re not mad?” she asked softly, looking up at him through her lashes.

Luka curled a finger under her chin and tipped her face up so that she was looking at him more directly. “I’m not mad,” he promised, and the soft smile he gave her and the gentle look in his eyes made her believe him. “I’ll be disappointed, probably, tomorrow. I’ll have to scale back my plans. But that’s okay. I took a chance and it didn’t work out in my favor. You played your best. No regrets here. I’m so happy for you, too, and impressed, and…” he paused, and took a deep breath. “I’m definitely not mad.” His hand moved up to cup her cheek, and his thumb brushed over her face for a moment.

“Viperion, Ladybug! Press room, let’s go.”

“Oh,” Marinette gasped, but Luka just chuckled and put a hand on her arm. She went with him a little numbly until they were separated for the post-game interviews. Marinette wasn’t sure anything she said was coherent, but she had enough presence of mind to work in a mention of the bakery and her fashion business, so hopefully it wasn’t a total loss.

“I’m sure you did great,” Luka told her as they walked out.

“I hope so,” Marinette sighed, putting a hand against her forehead and flapping her hoodie to get some air under it. “But it’s over now, so no point in worrying about it.”

“Yeah,” Luka smiled, and then nudged her shoulder with his arm. “I guess you better go. You’re not done yet, remember?”

“Yeah,” Marinette nodded, turning to face her. “But...you’re going to stay, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Luka grinned. “I’ll be cheering you on, no fear. And...I’ll be here after. Assuming you still want to talk?”

“I do,” Marinette said quickly, blushing.

“Okay then. You go get ready and find Max, and I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” Marinette whispered, and rose on her toes to quickly kiss his cheek before following a production assistant with a clipboard back to the player lounge.

Max nearly knocked her over in his enthusiasm as soon as she walked in, and she clung to the back of his hoodie, laughing incredulously. “I still can’t believe it,” she whispered.

“I believe the evidence is irrefutable,” Max pointed out, and Marinette rolled her eyes, pushing him away.

“You changed your lipstick,” Max observed as she looked up at him, and Marinette’s fingers flew to her mouth.

“Oh, I forgot. I can—I can go change it back, if you’re afraid it’ll jinx us—” She knew how Max would react as soon as she said the words and pouted while he snorted with laughter.

“I appreciate the thought, but I don’t think the color of your lipstick will be the deciding factor,” Max snickered, and Marinette shoved him, making him stagger.

“Jerk,” she muttered.

“I bet Luka liked it,” Max observed smugly, and Marinette’s face flamed red.

“We’re not going to win this tournament if I break your arm before it starts,” she threatened, punching Max (lightly, as she knew her skinny friend bruised easily) in the arm.

“I’m sure Luka would comfort y—ow!”

The waiting dragged on again but at least this time she had Max to talk to and strategize with. Once they walked out of the stupid fog tunnel, the whirl began again. It wasn’t any easier, Marinette found, but this time it was Max, confident in his calculations and their abilities, who was her steadying influence. She had more leeway, too, with Max there, they could cover for each other's mistakes. It felt like only moments before they were ushered into the backstage area, waiting to face their final opponents. Marinette felt a bit shaky and weak in the knees again from the rush, but this time she sat herself down and breathed through it while Max paced, muttering strategy and calculations to himself.

Someone cleared their throat beside her and Marinette looked up to find Luka standing there. Now he was wearing his Viperion hoodie, his face made up in a very good approximation of the mask Marinette had put on him when they played together, and he grinned widely at Marinette’s staring eyes. “Surprise.”

Marinette sputtered for a moment, leaping to her feet as Max reversed his pacing and came over. “What are you—how did you even get back here?”

Luka shrugged, still grinning. “I’m on the team roster so I’m cleared to be here. I just wanted to wish you good luck,” he said, addressing them both though his eyes kept coming back to Marinette. “Not that you need it. I um, I hope this is okay.” He gestured vaguely at himself, and Marinette shut her gaping mouth with a snap. “I didn’t feel right wearing it while we were going head to head, but I just...I wanted to be here and support you guys as much as I could.” He held out his hand to Max, though he sent a worried-looking glance at Marinette, who couldn’t seem to move.

“Absolutely,” Max said, stepping forward to meet Luka’s fistbump as if he didn’t notice Marinette was suddenly paralyzed next to him. “You’re a part of this team, and it wouldn’t feel right doing this without you.”

Luka shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t do that much.”

Marinette’s mouth dropped open again, this time in outrage, but Max beat her to it. “Don’t conflate the magnitude of the effort with its importance,” he told Luka, reaching out to pat his arm awkwardly. Luka’s eyes flicked to Marinette for a moment and she could see his amusement, though he kept a straight face. “Without your assistance we would never have finished the tournament in such an advantageous position for the finals,” Max continued, drawing his hand back to adjust his dark glasses. “We are indeed grateful and your position as a teammate is by no means honorary. I hope when we emerge victorious, you will join us in the awards ceremony.”

“Oh, I—” Luka looked thrown, but Marinette nodded enthusiastically, catching his arm and squeezing it.

“Max is right. You belong up there with us.” She aimed a reassuring smile at him. “I’m glad you’re here.”

The tension left Luka’s shoulders and he started to say something, but he was cut off.

“Team Lucky Charm!” the man with the clipboard shouted without actually looking at them. “Prep for entry. Go up the stage steps but do not cross the yellow line until you’re announced.”

Marinette’s eyes widened slightly, and her whole body tensed. Once again she put a hand over her wildly beating heart and tried to breathe. One more time. She just had to face the lights and the screaming one more time.

Luka’s hand covered hers on his arm and Marinette realized she was digging her fingers into his sleeve. “Hey,” he said, gently detaching her fingers from his sleeve. “You’ve got this. Just like before, right? Own it.” He drew her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips lightly. Warmth spread from her fingers down her arm and through her body, pooling in her face and stomach. “Come on, before Max leaves you behind,” Luka said, letting go of her hand and placing his on her lower back, pressing gently until she began to move. He walked with her to the bottom of the stage’s metal stairs behind Max, who was marching forward with determination, confident that the numbers were on their side and determined not to be swayed by something as illogical as stage fright.

Marinette paused at the bottom of the stairs, Luka’s hand still warm on her back, her heart beating wildly in her throat.

“Remember,” Luka soothed from behind her. “All you have to do is get across the stage and it doesn’t matter how. Once you’re in the pod you’ll forget everything else, just like before. Besides,” he grinned. “They’re just people. You’re the champion.”

Marinette turned impulsively and hugged him tight. “Thank you,” she muttered, not quite daring to press her face into his chest. Luka’s hands went to her shoulders and squeezed. “Thank you for everything today.

“You’ve got this,” he repeated, sliding his hands down to her arms and shifting her gently back until she stepped up onto the first step, and once her eyes were level with his it became a little easier to breathe in the face of his calm confidence. “Whatever’s gonna happen is gonna happen, right? So just get out there and play.” He grinned. “Good luck, Ladybug.”

Marinette felt an answering smile growing on her face.

“Marinette!” Max called from where he was waiting near the top of the stairs. “Hurry up!”

Marinette looked up at Max as Luka let go of her, but she turned back quickly, grabbed Luka’s face in her hands, and pressed her lips hard to his. He made a startled noise, and when she would have pulled back his hand came up to cradle the back of her head, prolonging the kiss as he swayed after her. Max hissed her name again from the top of the stairs and Luka let her go, breathing hard, something kindling in his blue eyes that made her flush and grin stupidly back at him.

Then Max was grabbing her arm and hauling her, stumbling, back up the stairs with him. “The sooner you two have that talk, the better,” he muttered as they went up the last few steps together, Marinette trying to contain the stupid grin that kept wanting to break out on her face. "May I remind you we have a competition to win? The sooner it’s over, the sooner you two can go make out in a supply closet.”

“Max!” Marinette whisper-shouted in horror, and Max just grinned.

“Win first,” he told her, adjusting his horseshoe pendant. “Kisses later.”

Before she could retort, the announcer roared out, “Team Luckyyyyyy Chaaaarm!” and there was no more time to think about anything besides the bright lights and roaring crowd, and then the blink of the countdown and the hard plastic of the controller against her palms.

***

Luka was waiting when Marinette came flying down the stairs, a laughing Max following in her wake.

This time she leapt into his arms, making him stagger, and her feet never touched the ground as he laughed and spun her around. He bounced her a couple of times before she let her feet drop to the floor and gave him enough room to share a fistbump and back-slapping hug with Max.

Then everything was a whirl again, as all three of them were ushered to the press room for interviews and soundbites, and Marinette wasn’t sure whether she managed to get out anything coherent or not. She and Max both kept a hold on Luka, dragging him into the interviews with them, and they presented as a team. Luka’s experience bailed them out a couple of times when unexpected questions gave them pause, and his hand on her back was steadying when she started to stammer. Marinette paused and took a breath and steadied her voice before answering the next question.

“You guys did great,” Luka murmured when they were finally released, and then there was another flood of bodies on them, and Alya was screaming in her ear and Max’s mother was screaming in his and then Kim wrapped his arms around both Max and Mrs. Kante just as Marinette’s dad did the same to her and Alya, and for a few moments it was a fight to breathe. Marinette saw a flash of Juleka’s purple hair and heard the Captain’s voice boom but everyone was talking at once and Marinette was too overwhelmed to focus on any of it.

Finally, the families were ushered back out to the stands with instructions to be back in their seats in forty-five minutes for the official awards ceremony. As the room began to clear out, leaving the top players milling around with varying expressions of elation and exhaustion. Marinette looked around and found Luka. He was looking right at her, and when their eyes met he tipped his head slightly and indicated the doors. Marinette nodded, heart suddenly in her throat, and Luka flashed her a quick grin before turning away.

“Max,” Marinette whispered watching Luka slip out of the doors, “What are my odds?”

“The human heart is impossible to calculate, Marinette,” Max said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Although that kiss would argue for a positive response.” He squeezed her shoulder lightly. “No matter what happens, I support you one hundred percent.”

Marinette’s brain was already humming, giving her a list of excuses and reasons why it would be better to put this off, starting with the looming awards ceremony and moving on from there, but Max’s hand on her shoulder and Kagami’s words in her mind got her moving forward. No more hesitation.

Marinette wormed her way through the bodies between her and the door and slipped out. She nearly collided with Luka, who was clearly waiting for her. He flashed her a grin and caught her hand, tugging her down the hallway.

“Luka, where are we going?” Marinette hissed as he walked quickly, pulling her along.

“Somewhere we can talk,” he told her, keeping his voice quiet. “Just don’t make too much noise, okay?”

Marinette frowned. “We better not really end up in a supply closet.”

“What?” Luka nearly choked trying to muffle his laughter. “No, I promise, I can do better than that. My mom’s played this arena a couple of times, I know my way around.”

“But—” Marinette began, but then closed her mouth as Luka opened the door to a stairwell and started up it. “I don’t think we’re supposed to be up here,” she whispered as Luka checked the floor number and peeked through the window of the door.

“Nope,” he grinned, opening the door and motioning her through. “Do you trust me?”

She did, so she went through. “We’re not going to the roof this time, are we?” she asked skeptically, and Luka chuckled.

“Not this time.” She followed him down a dimly lit hallway and did her best not to squeal in incredulous dismay as he jimmied a door lock with a credit card.

“All the security on the entrances, and crap locks up here,” he said, swinging the door open. “Typical.”

“I didn’t realize you were a cat burglar in your spare time,” Marinette muttered as he took her hand and drew her inside what turned out to be some kind of private viewing lounge. She could see through the big windows down into the stadium, and the room was scattered with couches and cocktail tables.

“Nah,” Luka laughed quietly through his nose, slipping his wallet back into his pocket. “I’m a pirate.”

Marinette looked at him, and he winked at her with that grin, and she couldn’t help breaking into giggles. “You are, aren’t you,” she laughed, covering her mouth. Luka snickered with her, and for a moment they could only stand there trying to stifle their laughter. Luka made no move to turn the lights on, probably to keep anyone from noticing that the room was occupied, but there was enough light from the windows that they didn’t need it, and eventually their laughter died down, and they were left just looking at each other.

Luka cleared his throat, pulling two bottles of water from the pockets of his hoodie. He held one out to her and she took it gratefully, suddenly aware she was parched.

“I feel like you’ve been taking care of me all day,” Marinette said, stifling more slightly hysterical giggles, and Luka grinned at her.

“Sorry. Big brother thing I guess. Or...well, maybe not,” he blushed and looked away. “I just know you’ve been pushing yourself a lot lately, and today was…” He blew out a breath and shook his head with a grin. “A lot. It can really take it out of you if you’re not taking care of yourself, so...sorry if I’ve been pushy.”

Marinette smiled at him over the rim of her water bottle as he reached to twist the cap off his own. “I didn’t mi—whoa, are you okay?” she reached out to steady him as he suddenly fumbled it, spilling water over his hands.

“Fine,” he said, a little too quickly, shaking the water off his hand without looking at her. “I’m fine.” He took a drink and then coughed, and Marinette pounded his back, concerned.

“Geeze, slow down,” she said, torn between amusement and exasperation. “Maybe somebody ought to be taking care of you.”

He coughed through an embarrassed laugh. “Sorry. God, you always catch me off guard.”

Marinette blushed, though she didn’t understand exactly what he meant. Getting control of himself he added quickly, “Congratulations. You and Max both did amazing. I think I screamed myself hoarse cheering you on.”

Marinette hunched her shoulders slightly with a pleased smile. “You did really great too. I can’t wait to watch the replays, I heard you destroyed Desperada in the second round.”

Luka winced. “Yeah, that was rough, our skills just…” He shook his head. “She’s an amazing player with what she’s got but she’s basically never beaten me because of the way our stats stack up. She’s done so well, I hated for her to go down like that, but…” He shrugged and grinned. “I did what I had to do. Wasn’t going to miss going up against you in the final.”

Marinette grinned back, and then dropped her gaze, a silence falling between them that threatened to become awkward if one of them didn’t find a way to start. Determined that it would be her, Marinette began in a rush. “Um. Well I wanted to—we haven’t really talked, a-about, and we said we would, and I know maybe it might seem like we don’t need to, and, well this might not actually be the best time but if we wait for the perfect moment it’ll never happen, and I know we, uh, before, and then tonight, and so maybe we don’t need to but I just, I hate it when there are all these misunderstandings because people don’t talk and we should talk and—stop laughing!”

“Sorry,” Luka said, bringing up a hand to cover his mouth as he continued to chuckle. “I can’t help it. I’m happy and you’re really cute.”

“Damn it,” she hissed, reaching up with both hands to pull on her pigtails in frustration, “I’m so bad at this!”

“You’re doing fine,” Luka said, taking the bottle of water from her and setting both hers and his on one of the tables. He stepped closer and put both hands on her shoulders, and rubbed lightly. “I can go first if you’d rather.”

Marinette groaned and buried her face in her hands, suddenly mortifyingly close to tears. She was being an idiot. He’d kissed her, and let her kiss him, and acted like he wanted to keep kissing her, and with the texts during the week, and the way he’d been smiling at her all night, and he came to her fashion show, and bringing her up here and the way he was acting now, he really couldn’t be more clear, so why was she still so terrified?

“Marinette,” he said, his voice soft and affectionate, “Listen, I think you’re—”

“No!” she yelled, throwing out her hands and stepping back from him, breaking his hold on her shoulders. “No, I have to do this, please.”

God, she was going to ruin everything, he must think she was insane. There was no way that she could explain to him the utter train wreck that had been her years-long crush-obsession with Adrien Agreste, all the things she’d said and completely failed to say, all the time she’d spent analyzing their least little interactions, all the times she’d practically stalked him only to lose her courage and lie at the last minute, until finally, finally, the words passed her lips in a jumbled wreck and were met with—

She peeked one eye open and could see that Luka was looking at her with concern. His eyes were blue and not green, his hair dark and not blond, and the expression on his face was concern and empathy and not blank confusion.

It wasn’t the same. She could do this. It wouldn’t be the same. It wasn’t the same. She wasn’t the same.

“Are you sure?” Luka said hesitantly. “If it’s this hard for you, then—I mean I thought you’d know by now that I—but you don’t have to say anything you’re not ready for, you know that, right?”

“No, it’s not that, and it’s not you, it’s me, and I need to deal with it. Please, Luka,” Marinette added desperately. She needed to put this ghost to rest and this was the only way she knew how.

“Okay. Okay, Marinette.” He reached up and took her hands, tugging them gently away from her face and then pulling her over to sit on one of the small couches. “I’m listening. Do what you need to do.”

“I’m sorry,” she sighed, slumping back for a minute. “It’s just, the last time I did something like this it...it didn’t go so well and I know this is different, I do, but it’s...it’s hard. But I want to. I want to do it. I...I kind of need this, Luka.”

“Okay.” Luka slid a little closer, his hands still wrapped around hers. “I hear you. Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Right,” Marinette whispered, half to herself. “Okay.” Luka squeezed her hands and she realized they were shaking. She needed to get this over with before she went completely to pieces. Why did he always have that effect on her?

No.

Adrien had that effect on her.

Luka—Marinette forced herself to raise her eyes to Luka’s, and saw only warmth and encouragement there. She straightened and put her shoulders back and took a breath to steady herself, though the shaking didn’t stop.

“I r-really like you, Luka,” she began, wincing slightly at the stutter and feeling her lips begin to tremble too. “You’ve been a wonderful teammate and a good f-friend, but you’re—” She swallowed hard; this was too close, too close to the words she’d used back then, but it was too late, she had to keep going. “You’re so much more than a friend to me,” she went on in a rush. “At least, I—I want you to be. S-so maybe, if you, um, if you want to, maybe we could go out. Sometime. On a date. A real date, not a just-friends date.” She squeezed her eyes shut and looked down quickly, face burning, suddenly feeling totally inept and like a complete fool and what had she been thinking—

“Yeah.”

Marinette looked up. “What?” Luka was grinning broadly, and he looked oddly...proud. Of her?

Maybe he really was as perceptive as Juleka said.

Shit he was talking, she should listen.

“I said yes. Yes, hell yeah, I’d love to go out with you.”

Marinette blinked at him uncomprehendingly. Luka laughed at the look on her face. “You’re unbelievable,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Smart, sassy, gorgeous, tough, incredibly brave, why wouldn’t I go out with you? Do you really think I’m that big an idiot?”

She gaped at him like a fish.

“Can it be my turn now?” Luka asked, when she didn’t find anything to say, and she nodded dumbly, not entirely sure her soul was still inhabiting her body.

Luka leaned toward her and gently framed her face in his hands. “Marinette, these last few months have been the best I’ve had in a long time and you’ve been a huge part of that, as an opponent and a friend and...honestly the more time I spend with you the more amazing you are to me. I know there’s probably still a lot we don’t know about each other, but I want to. I want you to know me, and I want to know you. All of you. I want to be an expert in Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette had to giggle at that, slapping her hand over her mouth in horror at the high-pitched girly sound of it. Luka’s grin widened as he shook his head and pulled her hand away from her mouth, threading his fingers through hers and lowering their hands to his lap. “Don’t cover it up, it’s so pretty,” he told her, and his slow grin set off an entirely different panic as he tipped her chin up with his free hand, brushing his thumb lightly across her lips. “I was right about the red,” he said, and when did his face get so close, oh no, but also yes, but wait was this too soon or should she—but she wanted to and if he wanted to then that was good enough, right? ”Can I kiss you now?”

“Okay,” she said shakily, and he leaned in slowly, watching her face.

“You sure?” he said, pausing and sitting back a bit. “You don’t look like you—”

As she stared at Luka frowning with concern because he thought she didn’t want to kiss him, there was almost an audible snap in her head as the past settled back where it belonged and the now became sharp and clear. What the hell was she doing?

Marinette grabbed the front of Luka’s hoodie and dragged him forward. “Get over here,” she ordered, though the breathiness in her voice took a lot of the force out of it. It was enough, though, Luka closed the distance with a desperate little noise and their lips met once, twice, three times in hard, passionate kisses, before finally settling together into something softer but no less heated. The hand under her chin slid up to flatten along the side of her throat, and then slid farther back to curl around the back of her neck, Luka’s thumb brushing her jaw as he tilted her back. He was kissing her like—like—

Like he really did like her as much as she liked him, like he meant all those things he said to her, like he’d been thinking about it for a while now—

And he was really good at it, she acknowledged dizzily as his lips began coaxing hers to open.

But hell if she was going to let him run the show. She nipped his lower lip and he startled slightly. Grinning in the small space that granted her, Marinette wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled the other free from his hand to grab the back of the couch and pull, forcing him back as she straightened and rolled up to her knees so that he was the one with his head tilted back, and only then did she part her lips and slide her tongue into his mouth, hands moving to hold his face at just the right angle. The strangled noise he made and the way he grabbed at her hips was very satisfying. It felt so good to get some payback after all the time she’d spent agonizing over her crush on him. She wasn’t even sure he was aware of the way his hands were scrabbling against her, trying to pull her into his lap.

She broke the kiss, laughing when he tried to follow her to prolong it. “Easy, we still have to go back in public after this,” she teased, and Luka groaned, letting his head fall back against the bench.

“Fuck me,” he muttered breathlessly, and Marinette snorted, leaning against him.

“What kind of girl do you think I am?” she scoffed, and Luka’s eyes flew open.

“No, no, God, no, I didn’t mean, I wouldn’t—”

Marinette let him stammer for another few moments out of pure revenge for all those times he had grinned at her while she tripped over her tongue, before she leaned in and kissed him, softly this time. “Shut up and put yourself back together, Viperion, we still have an awards ceremony to get through.”

“ Shit. ” Luka let go of her and covered his face with his hands. “I’m gonna need a minute.”

Marinette put her hand over her mouth and tried not to laugh but she couldn’t help it. She was just so happy. Luka dropped his hands and grinned at her, reaching out to snag her around the waist and pull her close, kissing her even as she continued to laugh, pure joy singing from her soul as she pretended to dodge him. He planted kisses on her jaw and her neck as she squealed and tried half-heartedly to wriggle away before giving up and turning to kiss him again on the mouth, and then again, and then again, slow, deep kisses.

“What?” she asked as Luka chuckled against her mouth.

“Nothing,” he sighed, nudging his nose against hers. “Just feeling lucky I guess. I’m so happy, Marinette.”

Marinette smiled, but they did need to be getting back, so she pushed his hands away for real and slid off the couch.

She bit her lip in amusement when Luka whined, leaning his elbows on the back of the couch and letting his head hang back. “Do we have to?” he groaned. “I really hate ceremonies.”

“Yes,” Marinette grinned, grabbing his hand and pulling him up off the couch. “I want to see you up there, right in the number two spot where you belong.”

“Oh, low,” Luka laughed, dragging his feet as she tugged him towards the door. “Wait, wait.” He pulled his hand free and turned back to grab their water. “Never leave evidence behind,” he said, handing her one of the bottles with a wink. “Especially not evidence with lipstick stains.”

Marinette giggled. “Wait, is that why you—”

“No comment,” Luka said, cheeks reddening as he threw the incriminating evidence in the hallway’s recycling bin.

They weren’t very sneaky coming back down the stairs, giggling and snuggling and nearly tripping more than once because they were standing too close together.

When they emerged into the full light of the hallway outside of the lounge, Luka looked at Marinette and smirked. “Hey Ladybug.”

“Hmm?” Marinette raised her eyebrows.

Luka leaned in and kissed her until they were both breathless. “Fix your lipstick,” he whispered against her lips, and laughed as Marinette cursed and jerked back, slapping a hand over her mouth. Her red lipstick had held up to the relatively innocent kisses backstage, but now it was smeared all over his mouth, blended with the peach he’d been wearing, and her face couldn’t possibly look any better. Luka burst out laughing at her expression, and Marinette began to giggle again too.

“Here, I have some wipes,” he managed to say at last, pulling a packet of makeup remover wipes from his back pocket. “Let me help.”

“You should, since it was your fault,” Marinette shot back, taking the packet from him and pulling a wipe free. She pouted as Luka snatched it back from her fingers, but she didn’t really mean it, and she let him take her chin in his hand and tilt her face up.

“I’m not even sorry,” Luka chuckled, eyes on her lips as he gently wiped away the smears. “I’ll buy you a better brand.” He winked, and then his humor settled into a quiet contentment that shone in his face. “That was pretty amazing, Marinette. I hope we can do it again sometime soon. Maybe I could take you out to dinner and—”

“Marinette!” Max called, bursting out of the doors down the hall and looking around for a moment before spotting them. His shoulders slumped in relief. “There you are! You weren’t answering your phone, I was getting concerned. It’s almost time.”

Luka winced, going to work quickly on his own face. “Busted,” he murmured, and Marinette could hear the laughter in his voice.

Marinette snorted. “Like he didn’t already know. He’s been teasing me about you since we met.” She raised her voice and called, “We’re coming.” She took Luka’s hand and tugged him along with her back to the doors where Max was waiting.

Max adjusted his glasses and looked at his phone. “We’re due for the ceremony in two minutes and forty-five seconds.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Marinette smiled. “I’m good to go, I just need to grab my makeup bag and fix my lipstick.”

Luka made a noise that sounded suspiciously like choked laughter, but Marinette didn’t look at him, squeezing his hand tight enough that he winced.

“Oh, you left it on the drink table earlier, I picked it up for you,” Max said, pulling her lipstick tube out of his pocket and coming down the hallway to meet him. “It looks good to me, though, are you sure you want to take the time?”

Luka coughed into his hand, obviously trying not to laugh, but Max didn’t even glance at him.

“It’ll only be a second,” Marinette said, taking the tube from him. She opened it and paused as they reached the doors, using her reflection in the window to apply her lipstick over her naturally reddened lips. She could see Luka over her shoulder finger-combing his hair back into place. She capped the tube and handed it to Luka with a wink. “Hold onto it for me? I have a feeling I might need it again later.”

“Sure,” Luka grinned, and reached around her to pull the door open. “Just find me whenever you’re ready to need a touch up.”

It was Marinette’s turn to choke on a laugh, while Max threw Luka a slightly puzzled glance, but clearly dismissed his odd phrasing in favor of ushering them all back into the ceremony. Marinette grinned. Max might think he’s all worldly, but when he’s focused on something he doesn’t notice anything.

***

They made it through the awards ceremony and almost an hour of the afterparty, accepting congratulations and fistbumps and handshakes and ribbing (mostly good-natured, some not so much, but Marinette had never cared less in her life than she did at that moment). Then someone on the game committee stood up to make a speech and Marinette saw her opportunity. She grabbed the lapel of Luka’s hoodie and tugged lightly. He met her gaze and grinned, following her pull willingly.

She ducked into a shadowed hall, pulling him just beyond the light from the party, and as soon as she leaned back against the wall he was bending over her, though the kiss he laid on her lips was soft and gentle and over much too quickly.

“Sorry,” he murmured, with a lopsided grin. “That was kind of presumptuous I guess.”

Marinette grabbed the lapels of his hoodie and pulled him in for another soft kiss. “Maybe. I don’t mind though.”

“I really like you, Marinette,” Luka said, one hand finding her hip while the other leaned on the wall beside her. “In case I didn’t make that clear before. Not just kissing you, though, for the record, I really like that too, but. You. It’s you.”

Marinette smiled, a happy flutter in her stomach making her wiggle a bit. “You should probably know I’ve had a massive crush on you for weeks,” she admitted shyly, still holding on to his hoodie.

Luka’s grin got wider, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah? Weeks?”

Marinette pouted at him. “Don’t lie, you knew.”

Luka chuckled and looked away. “Maybe. I just...I didn’t know what to do with it for a while. I didn’t want to lead you on if I wasn’t...but then I was, and...” He looked back at her and grinned slowly. “Just weeks, huh?”

Marinette shrugged, looking somewhere over his left shoulder. “Weeks. Months. Something like that.” She twirled her finger in the string of his hoodie, still not quite looking at him. “So I’m maybe not at all opposed to—presumption.”

“That’s, um…” He was clearly trying to keep his smile under control, but it wasn’t working. The grin on his face was rapidly crossing into idiotic. Marinette giggled. “That’s really good to hear,” he continued, “because I’ve been getting really stupid over you really fast since we started working together, so...I’m kinda glad you got a head start. It’s actually really flattering coming from a girl like you.”

Marinette frowned slightly. “A girl like me?

Luka gave her an amused look. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, Marinette, but you’re kind of a catch.”

Marinette blinked at him, startled, and Luka buried his face in her shoulder to muffle his laughter. “Oh my God, you really hadn’t noticed. You’re so damn cute.”

“Cute!” Marinette huffed indignantly, but Luka lifted his face from her shoulder and nudged his nose against hers with a low chuckle that made her shiver.

“Adorable,” he told her, with so much affection that she couldn’t be offended. “Also really, seriously hot, which, I don’t even know how you manage to do both of those at once, but—” He cleared his throat. “Can I—”

“Yes,” Marinette giggled, tugging on his hoodie, and he bent, closing his eyes and kissing her with a slow heat that made her weak. She slid her hands up his firm chest and over his shoulders until they met behind his neck, savoring the pleased noise he made. Luka broke from her mouth and laid soft kisses along her jaw.

“When can I see you again?” he asked, his voice so deep it was practically a growl, and Marinette shivered again. Luka cocked his head slightly. “You okay?”

“I, um,” Marinette bit her lip. “I really like your voice,” she admitted in a rush.

“Yeah?” That idiotic grin was growing on his face again and she was rapidly falling in love with it, with the way that he looked at her…

With him. She was falling pretty hard for him. And her only consolation was that he seemed to be tumbling head over heels along with her. The idea of loving someone who loved her back was...heady, to say the least. Not even the most euphoric moments of her ill-fated pining compared to this.

“Marinette?” he prompted, nudging his nose against hers. “I’m serious. I really want to see you again soon.”

She kissed him again, just because he was so close. He chased her when she would have ended it, and she smiled against his lips before letting him coax her into a much longer, deeper kiss.

“Wednesday?” she said, when he finally drew back.

“Hm?” he blinked slightly glazed eyes and Marinette giggled. She straightened up off of the wall and leaned into him instead, fingers sliding up to play with the short hair at the nape of his neck.

“Wednesday,” she repeated. “You can pick me up at seven. Bring your guitar, you promised to play for me again.”

“I did,” he agreed, voice dipping low again as his hand slid around to the small of her back. “I can’t wait.”

“Bring your A-game,” she told him. “I expect to be swept off my feet. But come hungry and plan somewhere light for dinner because my parents will freak when I tell them I have a boyfriend. There will definitely be appetizers. There might be cake. Maybe even a souffle. You tell Papa his rematch will have to wait though because I’m not sharing you this time.”

The dopey grin returned. “I’m your boyfriend?”

Marinette blinked, and then blushed hotly, which both made him grin wider and limited her ability to play it off, but she did her best. “You’re on trial. Think you can handle it?”

“Oh, definitely,” he chuckled, and that dopey grin turned into the pirate grin that always made her melt. “The question is, can you?”

“Oh that’s how it is,” Marinette managed, raising her eyebrows.

“Yeah,” he murmured, freeing one hand to slip it behind her neck and tilt her face up. “That's how it is. So you let me know when you’re convinced.” His lips descended on hers and his body pressed hers in the wall and by the time he was done kissing her Marinette was pretty thoroughly convinced.

Not that she planned to admit it anytime soon.

She was pretty sure she was going to like this game.

#quickspins #killer combo #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #gamer au #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #ml fics

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dumb-hat · 4 years ago

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Character Sheet - Evander Winsome

—————- Link to blank template!

Rules: Things in brackets are meant only as guidelines, to be erased and your answers written in place of. Things separated by | are for bolding and italicising.

Tagged by: No one! I saw this reblogged by @mooglemeet, so I went ahead and grabbed it directly from @bluespiritfire. Link to the blank template is up above! Tagging: No one specific/anyone who wants to. Feel free to tag me back so I can see it!

Name: Evander Winsome Age: 26 Pronouns: He/him Birthdate: 12th Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon

~~PLACE OF ORIGIN~~ Race: Hyur From the First: Interracial heritage:

Hometown/city: Limsa Lominsa Current residence/popular haunt:Ul’dah

~~APPEARANCE~~

Favourite/commonly used clothes:

Any difficulties with magical/physical disciplines? Nothing in particular

~~RELATIONSHIPS~~ Parents/Legal Guardian/Parental Figure: mother | father | aunt and/or uncle | grandparents | adoptive | foster | mentor | family friend/godparents | other Siblings: One older brother; deceased Children: None that he knows of Romantic: single | unrequited | crushing | dating | engaged | married | divorced/separated | widow/widower | recently split | it’s complicated (I mean, not to him. To him, it makes total sense. Well, most of it does.) | other (…) Friends: Evander tends to befriend and trust people fairly easily, though it can take him a bit to really open up. Once you’ve hit that point, you’ve likely got a friend for life. Rivals/Enemies: To the best of his knowledge, he’s left these all behind somewhere or other, thanks largely to his restless need to wander. That said, there’s surely a few lurking in the past and there’s always room for more, of course!

Any special gestures of affection they have with people in their life? He’ll often make complaining noises about paying for drinks and dinner, but he’ll do it every time and would be slightly hurt if people didn’t let him.

How are they dealing with the most prominent of the above? How does it affect their in day-to-day life, if at all? Poorly, typically.

~~ODDS AND ENDS~~ Notable Weapons He doesn’t have any particular bond with any of his weapons, really. He sees them as tools, and ones that he uses only reluctantly. He sometimes enjoys tinkering with the ones he builds, but that’s more of a hobby than anything.

Notable Mounts He has various vehicles and machines he likes to fuss over and drive around, but he’s particularly fond of his SDS Fenrir.

In addition to his chocobo—a particularly stubborn beast named Doreen—he’s also fond of his battlesheep, Doctor One and a colossal crab he’s dubbed St. Barnabus.

Notable Minion/s Besides Doctor One and St. Barnabas, Evander is especially fond of various clockworks, automata, wind-ups and models that he’s put together. His favorite is a drone modeled after a Magitek bit that he’s named Valencia.

Keepsakes/Mementos

A pendant in the shape of a swan, a few too many flasks

Chronic Illnesses or Disabilities Evander lives with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. I’ve written about it a few places, most notably at length here and in brief here. How do they deal with these? Depends on the day, really. This isn’t really a thing he has a name for, so it’s not a thing he can easily address. He’s got a sloppily slapped together set coping mechanisms that work about half the time, if he’s lucky. Other than that, he mostly hopes for good days full of things he can convince himself he’s interested in.

Education Level He likes it when people underestimate him, so he’s not always quick to admit to the formal Ishgardian education afforded to him by the family that took him in when he left Limsa Lominsa. He’ll often try to pass it off as eclectic, self-driven studies... Which, admittedly, also played a big part in shaping him.

Habits There’s a lot of excess in his life. He drinks too much. He eats too much. He stays up too late, too long, and then sleeps too late, too long. He’s almost always got a flask or four on his person, and he often finds that he’s picking up the dinner or drink tab wherever he goes.

Other Nothing immediately springs to mind, but I’m sure there’s like a dozen things I should put here. This thing has been sitting in my drafts for god-knows-how-long, so I’m just glad to finally get it out there.

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 4 years ago

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True Faith (Part 1.) (Favored Ones, Part 17.)

Series description: Many things were surely fucked up in the year 2038, but no-one ever told anyone how all of it went down. What happened before a group of people left for Seattle to handle personal matters? Why did one girl refuse to leave all of it be? And why there were so many dead in the end?

Quote for the chapter: “I feel so extraordinary... Something's got a hold on me.” - Lotte Kestner

Part summary: Many could feel that something’s in the air when Ellie started to drift away from the reality. And the only thing that could save her and put stop to all of these thoughts was you.

A/N: Okay, okay. I know I am going against the cannon game now, because Seatlle happened at the end of March of 2038, but trust me, this slower pace will pay off in the end. And boy, does it feel good to jump back to TLOU fandom.

Warnings: Gore, angst, description of hatred and other mental states.

Word count: 3.2 K

Tagging: @nemodoren @xxgoldenhour @missdictatorme @peakymarvels @davnwillcome @pickleriiick @jodiereedus22 @gladiosamicitias @tamkashi @eternallyvenus @avengerssstuff @fangirl-inthe-us @avery-miller @mikah-writes @mad-hatter-98 @sadiaafrin99 @flavorishy

Series master list: H E R E

Joel Miller’s playlist for the bonfire occasions: H E R E

Youtube playlists: JACKSON DAYS | SEATTLE DAYS

"I've seen what happened down there, sugar." - A voice resonated through the darkness, suddenly. It seemed as if you were somewhere deep underwater. There were this cracking sounds inside of your head, making your ears ache, yet the burden you were feeling in your heart was way worse than that. But the voice was sharp, almost deafening. And sadly, you wouldn't change the voice with anyone else's. It felt nice, but horrifying at the same time to hear her. - "How are you holdin' up, hm? You're still sure you'll outrun me in a race?"

Slowly, you took a breath in, looking around you as you stood there. It was the fucking pottery shop you've been in, the one you've visited her in a thousand times. The one you remembered by your heart. And your heart was sinking low when you saw her... Just sitting there. As if she never actually left you in Jackson alone. She was looking at the machine in front of her, making a mug out of scratch. Just like the last time you've had a proper conversation with the lady. Well... You've spoken at the hospital, but... The pottery shop reminded you of Eve the most.

"Given how your leg looks like, I suppose you ain't be runnin' for quite a long time, honey." - The woman smiled at one of her creations, slowly taking it to her palm as she started to draw another of her flowers on it.

"You're dead, you know that, right?" - You answered in a joking manner. Jesus, they must've given you some darn good drugs for you to reach such a state. No matter if it were the soldiers or Bobby, they did hella good job. - "I've been talking to your tombstone for the last few months." - At that, Eve gave you a nasty grin, tapping the side of her head with her index finger.

"As long as you're aware of it, I know it. You're not so dumb that you'd make out this is real, huh?" - The woman asked you with a light chuckle at the end, leaning her back into the chair. Sure, it was obvious that you're talking to yourself. But your brain didn't want to syke you out, even more, to present you sitting... Somewhere. It could be also Joel or Ellie whom your brain would choose to project... But it was her. - "I thought that. But really, Miller? You, sugar, are surprisin' me even when I'm dead, I tell you that."

"You've caught a few words from Tommy and Joel here and there, but you never spoke like a Texas-born woman." - You answered instead of straight answering the lady. At that, she chuckled, shook her head, and looked at you. She seemed... Different. As if she got younger. She had fewer wrinkles and her eyes were full of life.

"I'm just what you've made of me, you know? This is how you remember me now. So thanks for agein' me down a bit. Also, the accent suits me, huh?" - The woman said. Technically yeah, you said to yourself, but that wasn't the subject of the conversation at the moment. - "That's what you wanted, hm? And I can understand that. Have my wrinkly face on your mind all the time... It would sadden me too." - She joked around, making you sadden at the statement. That was exactly what you wanted to happen. And until that point, it was working. But now, you wanted to remember Eve just the way she was, with all her wrinkles, grins and jokes.

"Do you realize... That if you wouldn't go on the patrol with Tommy... Then maybe, the man you've fallen in love with would be dead? Most likely?" - Eve leaned her head to her shoulder, sending you a concerned look.

"What good does it bring when I'm most likely dead?" - You asked back immediately. The imagination inside your head chuckled, looking away for a moment. - "If you'd be dead, sugar, we wouldn't be havin' this conversation at all. Dyin', yeah, sure, maybe, but dead? Hell no." - The woman dismissed with a dry chuckle, getting up on her legs to pour herself a glass of water.

"What now?" - Eve asked you, looking out of the window into the void around the pottery shop. For a moment, you were looking at her back, and because she knew you don't know what to say, she started to talk again. - "I mean... These people are there somewhere. Abby and Owen ran away just when your friends showed up. Doesn't that make you worried, honey?" - Her voice was resonating through your ears, there were still these cracking sounds inside your ears. What you've been trying to tell to yourself? Did it make any sense?

"What is your point?" - You asked after a moment of thinking, having the old woman turning to you. Suddenly, her face started to re-shift into someone else as the surroundings changed with it, making you dizzy in the process. Of course, it was Joel's house, and you had to close your eyes instead of looking at the man, falling on the ground right after as you threw up. You were panicking, Abby's face was flashing in front of your eyes accompanied by the manic expression in her face. The whole thing was about Joel, right? So this was what your brain immediately clicks to when you'll see him? Abby and her knife? Jesus Christ, it was a lot take in.

But as soon as the man touched your shoulder, it was like flipping the card around - finding yourself in his embrace as you both were falling asleep just hours before the patrol. But the touch wasn't making you feel good at all. To be honest, your eyes were slowly slipping towards the window as you searched for something in the darkness. It took you a long time to figure out where she was standing, but when you did... She was still standing there, looking into the window. And you were watching her back.

Hell, you couldn't make out what the fuck was that all about, but you've been trapped in a loop, circling between Joel and Abby. And you couldn't tell how long is that going to take. And neither could they.

Meanwhile, in Jackson:

The weather got drastically better after everything went down. At least the blizzards had stopped and the sun was slowly melting the snow everywhere. The Jackson was just going forward, not stopping because of what happened. Why should the whole city stop because of two people? Sure, people were saddened by what happened to you, but it wasn't their business in the slightest. Some animals needed to be taken care of, clothes to be repaired and pottery to be made. Tommy was a prominent figure in the hierarchy of Jackson, but the whole responsibility was put directly on Maria's shoulders.

There was one person whose world had stopped completely. All they did was that they sit at their home all the time, trying to think of a single reason why the fuck would someone do such terrible things to other human beings without having the reason to? Something like a regular sleep schedule? They didn't know what was that? The image of Tommy laying in blood on the ground was still carved inside their brain as they woke up every night with nightmares.

If there was something that needed to be said about Tommy, he was alive. Alive, yet not awaken. There was many possible outcomes for Tommy - he could wake up and have a memory loss. He could wake up and be crippled, whether physically or mentally. Tommy may never have the chance to talk like normal people. And... Bobby was sure that his condition is stable for now, but really, there was also a possibility they overlooked even the smallest crack in his skull. As soon as Joel brought the boy, Bobby started to check his skull, stopping the bleeding - when that was done, she sewed and took care of the wound, moving on to his broken knee and left forearm. And there was the possibility that he has a concussion, internal bleeding, and many other things. The people did a number on him.

And as for Y/N... Holy fuck. Bobby had never seen such screwed up ligaments above the knee. They also needed to tear a few nails off your fingers because the nails completely tore if off from the nail beds. It was pretty disgusting, sure, but Bobby was trying to keep you alive. While no-one was sure if Tommy has internal bleeding, Bobby almost cried with happiness when she was sure you didn't have it - as soon as your nose was put back in place, and it wasn't as swollen as when Dina brought you in, your breathing got into the normal state. Also, your pulse was checking up perfectly, so apart from the reality that your upper thigh muscles were ripped apart.

Sure, most likely, you'll be able to walk normally once again... After some time. But it was obvious that you'll be climbing for a few months at least. But most likely, you were about to be okay.

This was making the person at least a bit calm. But Ellie couldn't help herself - she wasn't falling asleep at night, all she could do was to think about the persons. Who were they? Where did they come from? Sure, she went back to the cabin to look through it, but not even the dead man Dina had shoot had nothing on his. These people were ready to leave at any given time. These weren't some stupid hunters, cannibals, or anyone like that. These people knew what they were doing. But... What did they search for? Why did they need to fuck you up when you were innocent? How did you and Tommy even get into the fucking cabin in the first place? Did they drag you in?

Ellie sat in the cabin for quite some time, on the couch, watching the stain of Tommy's blood, remembering every second of finding her uncle laying there, barely breathing and unconscious. The golf club was thrown on the ground and the window was opened up as someone ran away from the room. Now, it was too late to look for them, which was making Ellie more desperate to find them. The snow was now far gone, they didn't leave anything behind - inside or outside the house.

It didn't matter how much Dina was trying to make Ellie smile again - Ellie was still wearing the same expression, barely talking, looking into the ground as the incident wasn't leaving her head. She was only waiting for you or Tommy to wake up - and as soon as she'd hear who they were, she was ready to sneak out and come for each of them. It was inside her every time the opened the door to her house. As soon as she unlocked it, the image of Tommy laying in his blood just flashed in front of her eyes, making her panic for a second. Usually, she sat down on her bed, put a hand on her chest, and tried to breathe deeply. Soon enough, she stopped crying every time she saw Tommy on the ground.

The rage which has gotten into her once she was you fucked up on the chair as you frantically mumbled something to Jesse hadn't left her for a single second. It was making her sick from her stomach, hopeless and... She felt hatred for everything around her. Once, someone had a dumb comment regarding her and Dina, and even though she didn't say a word to the person, she threw her plate on the ground, walking straight to them. Maria, thanks to God, has stopped Ellie in the last second, catching her and dragging her away.

Not even Joel wasn't able to make her talk, no matter how hard the man tried to get at least a word out of her. Sure, she was now spending time at his place a lot, because what happened was a family catastrophe and they both needed to carry the other one through what happened. But she never spoke to him.

Yet, there were moments when Ellie spoke to someone. The problem was that you couldn't answer her. She wasn't exactly speaking anyway. She brought her guitar with her, the one which was in Joel's bedroom, singing to you while they waited for you to wake up. Sometimes, she sang you Take On Me, and other times, she pulled out Johnny Cash, since Joel told her that these are your favorites. Sure, she was a was perfectly aware that singing won't help you recover sooner, but it was probable that it will make you at least feel better.

Her fingers were picking the strings lazily as she proceeded to play the slow melody which was reflecting everything going on inside of her at the moment. Ellie didn't know that Dina was standing behind the door the whole time, but it relieved her girlfriend when she heard Ellie singing. Yet no matter how relieved she felt, she didn't dare to interrupt the moment happening in the room. It took Ellie another twenty minutes to finish the small concert for one person before she put the guitar down, looking at you sleeping on the bed. At that, Dina finally entered the room to change the artificial nutrition hanging next to your bed, sending Ellie one shy smile.

"You've been listening behind the door, weren't you?" - The redhaired girl asked quietly, shifting her focus from you to Dina. Her girlfriend just smiled but didn't give a straightaway answer right away.

"You are a good a singer, what can I say, baby?" - Dina whispered, making sure that everything's in check. It was a week and a half and you were still sleeping. Sure, you'd most likely be awakened by that time, but Bobby decided to keep you under the medicaments for some time - at least before your hands get in check somehow and until you wouldn't tear your muscles of your knee when you'd stand up. There was a wheelchair prepared for you, but with the amount of pus leaving the wound every morning, Bobby didn't want to rush any of it. You've been through pain and a severe shock. You needed some rest.

Of course, the medics in Jackson knew that they can't let you sleep for too long but at that point, you were still fine. That was the last thing that made Ellie still standing and being contained because she knew you'd wish so. The girl almost freaked out when Dina put her elbows around her neck, kissing the small sweet spot below her ear as both the girls watched you.

"What is going on inside your head, baby?" - Dina whispered after a small while, as she sat on your bed. While Ellie's eyes were pinned on your face, she could at least tell it is you at that time, Dina was smoothing the small strands hair off Ellie's face.

"You know what's going on in there." - Ellie muttered out, quickly flashing her look at the black-haired woman. These two were very much in love and if the incident wouldn't happen, their relationship would be most likely blossoming at the moment. But there were different thoughts inside of Ellie's head. The hatred she felt was immersive - it was almost as painful as on the day she got to know Joel had kidnapped her from the hospital and killed Marlene to protect his baby girl.

How could the man be so calm about the whole situation? It seemed that having his brother almost paralyzed and his girlfriend almost dad didn't move a single thing inside of him. At least that was what Ellie thought. Of course, he was in deep grief and an immerse state of anger, but there was nothing to do at the moment. Who would he be hunting down? Who were they? Where did they come from? Will they come back? Joel knew better than letting the anger flash out just like that. And more importantly, he knew that if you wouldn't ish to speak of them or tell him specifically to hunt them down, he won't be going on a killing spree just like that. He had a family to protect now and a future to go towards... Yet Ellie was just nineteen-year-old kiddo, in the end, she didn't know better.

"Ellie... I'm not sure I want you to fuck around with these people. You hear me?" - Dina asked quietly, catching Ellie's palm in her hand. At that, Ellie left out a small chuckle, shaking her head.

"This isn't a thing you're deciding about. This is my own decision to make." - Sadly, Ellie was right. And Dina knew that. Even Maria, Tommy, and Joel knew that - if Ellie had decided to avenge you, there was no way they could stop her in her quest. Only you had the power do put a stop on that, and even about that, Dina wasn't sure entirely. The only way to stop Ellie was to make sure you won't tell her about the people once you or Tommy wake up... But there was this high probability of Tommy starting a witch hunt by himself because he was a hell of a proud man.

"And is it yours to make? Ellie, what if she wakes up and tells you she doesn't want to go after the people? What if Tommy wakes up and tells you he doesn't want you to go?" - The black-haired girl scoffed ironically, rolling her eyes at her girlfriend's pride. - "You don't know the first shit about these people. What are you even planning on doing?" - Dina asked quietly. She was glad that she hears Ellie talking after those few weeks, but at the moment she wasn't so sure if it was making her feel good to hear Ellie talk about what she had inside. This behavior was selfish, hasty, and suicidal. The only thing Ellie was about to archive was getting herself killed... And Dina knew that. Ellie did too, somewhere deep inside. Yet her ego and pride when it came to these things was... Huge.

"I'm gonna find... And I'm gonna kill... Every last one of them." - Ellie whispered, her eyelid twitching with anger. Slowly, she breathed out, closing her eyes. Dina watched the girl slowly pumping her palm open and close tight for a moment before Ellie gathered enough calmness to speak. - "And you can't stop it, no matter how hard you'll try, Dina. Joel can't, Maria can't... No-one can't. I'm not gonna let these fuckers get away with this." - It hurt Dina more than just some slap, knowing Ellie is already sure that no matter what, she'll get the justice she desired for you. Dina just closed her eyes for a moment before getting up to walk around the room, catching some breath.

"If you're going, I'm going." - Dina demanded silently, covering a good portion of her lips with her palms. - "But promise me that wed go only if she wishes us to go. If she tells you to stay put, you will." - Dina begged silently, knowing Ellie will find them on her own if she'd have to. But the false promise Ellie made with a silent nod calmed Dina down. It was just for a moment, but it did help somehow.

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blackhyena · 4 years ago

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gothank you @slutteryingreen for tagging me to uhhh. do this deep dive i guess.

1. Do you prefer writing with a black pen or blue pen? black ideally but like, whatever’s there in practice? i seem to have got hold of an aqua blue bastard right now and i feel somewhat foolish

2. Would you prefer to live in the country or city? i love the country but i need to be in a city where everything is convenient and it feels like im part of.... something at least. the idea of being far from amenities is quite frightening to me given how paranoid i can be lmao

3. If you could learn a new skill what would it be? i know i already play guitar but i would like to be actually genuinely good at it rather than mediocre. i also would like to be better at doing makeup, and i’d really love to be able to make my own clothes alas i can’t even work a sewing machine

4. Do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? i do not

5. What was your favourite book as a child? omg megan horrible histories is such a shout. i did love those dragonology/egyptology/pirateology books though i still have them somewhere cause im not throwing away QUALITY like that

6. Do you prefer baths or showers? showers

7. If you could be a mythical creature, which one would it be? Oh To Be A Gender Non Conforming Vampire

8. Paper or electronic books? paper

9. What is your favourite item of clothing? my assorted flashy blazer collection

10. Do you like your name or would you like to change it? i mean.... it’s unusual, and i suppose that makes it feel very personal to me. but then also i love my nicknames/alternative names so much, i have genuinely considered changing it, but then i also like the idea of going by several variously

11. Who is a mentor to you? ummm. literally? my supervisor

12. Would you like to be famous and if so, what for? i still daydream about being a musician, that hasnt changed since i was really small haha. though sometimes in my daydreams i am also a screenwriter/director maybe. i don’t know. id hate to be super famous though megan is on the money, gotta be niche

13. Are you a restless sleeper? hmm, i take ages to get to sleep but when im out i am OUT. as in people have to make sure im not dead out.

14. Do you consider yourself a romantic person? in every sense of the word!

15. Which element best represents you? this is probably just from astrology shit but i think air is also quite representative of me!

16. Who do you want to be closer to? oh to be close to someone! in this economy...

17. Do you miss someone at the moment? SEE ABOVE. everyone!!!!!

18. Tell us about an early childhood memory: my two cousins arguing over who got to give me a horse-ride in my nana’s living room, meanwhile i’m crying in the corner begging them not to fight

19. What is the strangest thing you have eaten? oh take your pick! chicken hearts, ostrich, springbok.... all very delicious would recommend

20. What are you most thankful for? im very loved by my family and friends 🥺 even though i can get insecure and not realise it, it’s something i need to commit to heart more often.

21. Do you like spicy food? yes but my body does not. doesn’t stop me though!

22. Have you ever met someone famous? ive met miles kane! and jason manford. and some randos from coronation street. oh and kate mulgrew. and lee mack, who was getting my train along with catherine tate. there’s probably more ive forgotten.

23. Do you do you keep a diary or journal? lol NO but i do have a planner because if i didnt my life would have fallen apart completely by now.

24. Do you prefer to use a pen or a pencil? pen.

25. What is your star sign? libra

26. Do you like your cereal soggy or crunchy? crunchy... but i also don’t eat cereal. ive fully gone off milk (no pun intended)

27. What would you want your legacy to be? that i created something beautiful or though-provoking, or at least funny

28. Do you like reading, what was the last book you read? ahah if i didnt like reading doing what i do then id be FUCKED. i just finished reading the ebb-tide by robert louis stevenson!

29. How do you show someone you love them? i get them something nice... i suck at expressing it because i’m so nervous it won’t go down well. a gift does nicely to get around that.

30. Do you like ice in your drinks? i guess?

31. What are you afraid of? failing.... being forgotten.....rejection.... oh and wasps, hugely. bug sounds freak me the fuck out!!!!

32. What is your favourite scent? woody, earthy rain smells. and jasmine/honeysuckle too i suppose

33. Do you address older people by their name or surname? i... whatever they go by????

34. If money was not a factor, how would you live your life? my house would be so beautifully hideous and full of beautifully hideous clothes.

35. Do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? pools, just cause i can’t be dealing with salt water in my nose where it has no business being

36. What would you do if you found £50 on the ground? i .... GUESS i would turn it in to see if anyone had lost it, but you can bet i’d be fuming

37. Have you ever seen a shooting star? no!!! i think i’m too short-sighted to pick most of them out. really mad about that actually why did you ask

38. What is the one thing you would want to teach your children? im not planning to have kids but i did come to a conclusion that, while formerly i would have simply told them to be kind, i would also tell them to be smart. because natural intelligence aside critical thinking is a GIFT and they should rightly question everything rather than taking it as gospel.

39. If you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? urgh i know exactly what i would get and if covid/money/parental expectations truly were no object i’d be getting little fragments of cathedral architecture from all the cities i’ve lived in tattooed on my wrists.

40. What can you hear now? the garage door creaking open under our flat

41. Where do you feel the safest? at home, with a cat curled up on my bed.

42. What is the one thing you want to overcome/conquer? insecurities yes.... anxieties.... fears.... all that. i should get therapy probably

43. If you could travel back to any era, what would it be? it would not be permanent because i do NOT want to live without modern niceties but i WOULD go back to the eighteenth century/regency.... and just meet some people i’ve been reading about in the flesh, and see if they live up to the hype.

44. What is your most used emoji? red love heart emoji....

45. Describe yourself using one word. odd...

46. What do you regret the most? not sticking up for people being bullied at school. i know it was a self preservation thing at the time and i was a kid and didnt necessarily know better but like.... i wish i hadnt tried to distance myself from it, i could have been a lot more empathetic and made the world a bit kinder for people going through it, you know?

47. Last movie you saw? belle!

48. Last tv show you watched? succession

49. Invent a word and it’s meaning. you know when you give your cat a gentle shove and it rolls over dramatically onto its back? that’s tipcat.

i tag @ceolfriths @wutheringdyke @mycravatundone @colubride @renfield @goblinmarquess

#text post

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caribou-stories · 4 years ago

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Ni-ka-wi (My Mom)

Today is Mother’s day and I will be honouring and celebrating my late “nikawi” with a meal and traditional hand drum song. It has been 3 years since nikawi travelled back to the spirit world. During the month of May and leading up to, I am reminded of her power and sacredness. Sometimes it hurts a little too much, but I revere her memory to the best of my ability. She loved it when I sang particular songs at home, so that’s what I continue to take care of my spirit. The grief around losing your first home is unexplainable. You have to lose it to understand it.

The influence she has been in my life so far has been humbling. She raised me to be loving, free, and gifted in wealth. She catered to the artist that dwells inside of me, and so have the matriarchs before her. I remember one summer trip we took up in the Timmins area. We were living in Sudbury with my grandparents John and Sarah at that time. The drive up to Timmins, Matheson onto Kirkland Lake was memorable to say the least. I must have been about 13 years old and our original plan was to go to one of our first Sundance lodges that came to Northern Ontario, so we can visit relatives visiting from being away for so long. The highway was peaceful and we enjoyed ourselves, listening to Def Leppard and laughing the entire way along. Once we arrived to Matheson, which is a very small town, we were greeted by a vast dark sky and some casual lamp posts here and there. We were a little shook that there wasn’t anyone really in sight, except a few workers from abroad at a small motel. Nikawi drove up to these folks and began asking, “do you guys know where Nitaskinan is? It’s a place where we have ceremonies”. She was so spunky and had a good set of interpersonal skills. When she worked at a hot food deli, she never cheap-ed out on the wing sauce or cheese on the pizzas for her customers. Everyone remembers her for her wit and charm. Now days, I have a good chuckle revisiting that time she asked some non-indigenous folks for directions to our ceremonial grounds because although they has not the slightest idea of where to point us, one of the ladies kindly guided us to the OPP station nearby for some help. I guess she wanted to exude the same kindness nikawi approached her with. But, we were too shy so we decided we would be back, and kept driving onward to Kirkland Lake. Turns out we had relatives staying at an elders’ home there since the hospital in Attawapiskat flooded. Nikawi’s now late aunt Maniashin (Angela) and late uncle Eli, along with one more elder I cannot recall, were there and we were going to go visit them.

Upon our arrival that late evening, we almost did not find a place to stay. Luckily, there were two hotels in town and we managed to get a room. I remember feeling unsure of the situation we found ourselves in but, very safe in nikawi’s care and protection. In the morning, we got some Mcdonald’s and proceeded to check out where the elders’ home was. She asked me to navigate some directions by mapping a way there while we had some free wifi. Once we found the right place, I remember arriving onto the floor with my mom, being mindful of the hospital like finishes on the railings and wallpapers. It was nice, well kempt. It was a small floor but nice, very intimate and homey. Nikawi bee-lined to the nurses station and asked where we could find Angela and Eli. I followed her to their room and saw a face resembling my Gookum Sarah very much. Her light hazel or blue eyes, matched with a light grey haircut that fell to her shoulders. With her cute button nose, and ever warming smile, I met my great-aunt Maniashin (Angela) who was my Gookum (Grandmother) Sarah’s older sister, and Eli their older brother. I was named after my Gookum Sarah (my mom’s mom). I listened to their conversations during that afternoon, enjoying our beautiful language. I’ve never felt more safe than around my grandparents who only speak ininimoowan (Cree). These days, I can keep up with conversations but less than I could as a child. I wish I could converse in proper ininimoowan.

After a bit, Eli and nikawi went somewhere he needed her assistance. I sat with Maniashin for a few moments until she began asking me things about myself. When she asked if I make anything with my hands, and I said eh heh (yes). Her eyes lit up and smiled a beautiful grin. I told her I made gloves, beadwork, slippers, and other artistic crafts. She then began to share, once you’ve been making these things for so long, you won’t be able to do it anymore. Your grandmothers and I cannot do these things anymore because of our bones. You need to carry this tradition on, just like all of your grandmothers (Angela, Sarah, Madeline, and Pauline, all sisters and my maternal grandmothers). You’re young and you’re able to do it, so keep doing it. Don’t forget about what you have now. Over the years, I’ve begun to understand how important that means, like really means, not just to me. Nikawi always nurtured my artistic abilities by always providing me with crafts like markers, paper, paint, crayons, and then a miniature sewing machine, small pieces of fabric, and then more onto beads, leather, and good scissors. Since I had grown up in the care of Nikawi and my Mooshum and Gookum (Grandfather and Grandmother), I was very fortunate that I could spend moments of my childhood watching and learning about what Gookum was making. She was often crafting up nibagan (goose down blanket) bags made out of heavy duty canvas and doubled down straps, or hemming a pair of goose-beaded moccasins bigger for my younger cousin who’s now at a staggering 6′8′’.

My Gookum Sarah has always played a big role in passing along knowledge and skill to me. I remember when I was making my first pair of gloves. I used Gookum’s beadwork and based my work off Maniashin (Angela’s) semi-completed glove. The leather pieces were complete except the lining and fur. All the materials were given to me by my Gookum. I had such a hard, testing time with the lining. Little did I know, Gookum advised Nikawi not to try to help me because getting frustrated is a part of the learning. I would figure it out, and I did (to the best of my abilities!). I must have put a few solid days of work into these gloves. Upon completion, I showed my grandparents and mom my first pair of gloves. I was rained with kisses, hugs, and excited laughter. Gookum taught me how to braid the 4 strand yarn strings for the gloves, something that a lot of Omushkego folks have on their gloves or mitts so they can hang off the shoulders. I was especially excited to learn how to make the signature pom-pom tassels. Ever since that day, I always showcase my completed projects to somebody.

My Gookum Sarah wearing the gloves I just completed assembling.

Rounding back to the story, we stayed in Kirkland Lake for 2 days and it was a powerful experience to watch my mom be with our elders. During our time with our elders, nikawi took care of their needs. There was no hesitance, she just did what she needed to do. She fed our elder relative her food, and made her tea while she conversed with Eli and Maniashin. The lunch hour was full of laughter, head nodding, and sitting together. One last elder we payed a brief visit on our way out, was an elder nikawi held in high reverence. I cannot recall which elder this was. She described him as this influential, outspoken leader-man she had grown up looking up to. When she would describe him, I imagine how he looked like as a young man while we were in the elevator. Strong, tall, lean, wearing a weathered outdoorsmen coat, beaver pelt hat, matched with jeans or tough twill, and footed with traditional winter moccasins that wrap around the ankles and shins. When we arrived on his floor, we saw him sitting in a chair and nikawi began to greet Mooshum. He was very elderly now. I watched and smiled, then she began to shed some tears. He comforted her and held her hand. It was a powerful exchange to witness.

Nikawi was a Personal Support Worker in Fort Albany, so she spent a lot of time taking care of elders for years. She still worked while she was pregnant with me and she told me that the elders loved to greet me and acknowledge the journey I was making into this world. Her gift as a care taker was out of this world. Our departure from the Elder’s home was bittersweet as that was the last time we saw Maniashin. We attended her funeral a few years later. Eli then passed years on later. I’m grateful to Nikawi for bringing me to visit them with her. Afterwards, we trailed our way back to Matheson to find the Sundance grounds, and we did. During the last day of the ceremony, we enjoyed time with our relatives and spent some time in the lodge. We received healing from the Horse and Contraries. The following years, I would return to the grounds to be with family and the lodges.

All in all, I will always miss Nikawi, my mother, my first home. I will always be grateful for all the things she did to help me find my path as a young person. And, I’m grateful for those elders who shaped her to be the fierce mother she was to me. The resilience she had fostered within me is incredible, regardless of how challenging and painstaking the lessons near the end of her life were, she still taught me the rawness of love and caretaking. The story of Nikawi’s passing will wait until a later time; I’m lucky to have chosen her to be my Mother, even if it was for a short time. She still visits me in my dreams, and I miss her.

Nikawi wearing her purple sweater from her sister, Maniashin (Angela) wearing a blue cardigan, and our elder relative in the bottom left of the photo.

Eli and Nikawi speaking about land in ininimoowan. When Eli passed, I imagined him flying in the sky with the stars.

Nisakihetin dushineh mama.

Kindly,

#mother's day #remembering our moms #elders #wisdom #unconditional love #traditional crafts #matriarchs

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cutaepatootie · 5 years ago

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Animal - 09 | FINAL

Pairing: Jungkook | Reader Genre: boxer jungkook | angst | tiny bits of fluff and humor Word Count: 15k

Warnings: implicit sex, explicit descriptions of violence, blood, character death (ups), really realistic and gore descriptions, dark themes as drugs, gangs, police getting involved... This is one of the darkest things I’ve ever written, please be careful and if you don’t feel good reading those things... Skip them, please.

A/N: Today is my birthday and as my gift to you... Here you have it, the final chapter, I’m not ready, Animal is my baby, I don’t wanna say goodbye but... The time has come. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for joining me in this long journey. Lots of love!

previous chapter ← 09 | final chapter

It felt weird, the fact that after two months, everything felt normal again.

Having Jungkook with you every night, falling asleep in his arms and waking up buried beneath his body – the boy moved so much in his sleep you could swear one day he was going to suffocate you – it all felt so normal.

You hadn’t talked about the final wrestling match again and you just hoped he would make the right decision.

The final day of your practices at the hospital, was a sad day, having to say goodbye to all your patients and all the people that had become your family, the ones that had taken care of you and the ones that had taught you so much, but it had to arrive, and you had to say goodbye.

You brought one of your carrot cakes and you all ate it while you laugh remembering the different anecdotes you had lived. You couldn’t wrap your mind around the idea that, in just a few months, you would be working as a nurse instead of studying as one.

You tried to make the most out of everything. The last time you entered the equipment room, the last time you walked down the corridor of your floor, greeting patients and their family. The last time you got on the elevator, changed clothes inside the changing rooms, somehow remembering Jungkook as you stared at a certain wooden bench. In there, he had sat while you sewed up his brow after his car accident. It was when he had asked you to go out with him, just as friends of course.

You smiled, thinking how much things had changed since then.

In love…

Two small words, but fuck, how much meaning they held.

You walked out of the hospital that Friday night, smiling as you walked away from your student life. You were going to graduate on Sunday, fuck.

Your mother, grandparents and your aunt had traveled to the city to attend your graduation and they were staying at a hotel not far from your campus. You had been there with them for lunch that day.

As you opened the door of your dorm, still smiling like a silly girl, you started smelling something familiar.

You frowned, closing the door behind you. The room was dark, but it smelled like… Cheese?

You switched on the light to find Jungkook lying on your bed, a family sized pizza by his side as he smiled brightly at you.

“Congratulations, nurse Y/N,” he smirked.

You smiled widely and approached him, leaving your things on the floor.

“I haven’t graduated yet, so technically I’m not a nurse yet,” you said. “Would you put your life in the hands of this semi-nurse?”

“I’ve already done it, and it has turned out pretty good,” he pointed at himself.

You laughed and sat on the bed.

“Is it from Pizza Planet?”

“Of course, do you think I would buy you pizza from a place that wasn’t Pizza Planet?”

You chuckled again and punched him in the arm.

“You better not if you want to win your way to my heart.”

“Oh, c’mon,” he said in a dramatic way, throwing himself on your lap. “I’ve already won that long time ago.”

You punched him in the arm.

“Don’t push it, Jungkook,” you grunted. “I can kick you out of my room and spend my night alone with this pizza… Doing nasty things.”

“Oh…” he hummed, lifting himself up from your lap. “Would you do nasty things without me?”

“Mhm,” you nodded.

“What a nasty girl,” he purred.

And then, kissed you like he had been kissing you all week. With passion, with playfulness… With love.

You spent the night alone in your small room, sitting on the bed with the pizza in between you, soft music playing on the background and only your fairy lights lighting up the room. You talked and laughed, you showing him some video you had seen on Twitter that had caused you to almost peed yourself. Of course, Jungkook had to be extra and had to copy the video, dancing to Take on Me with a pair of ugly glasses you had hidden somewhere in your room while you recorded him and cracked up like a mad woman.

“I’m literally crying,” you said in between gasps, your stomach hurting from all the laughing. You wiped a tear away from the corner of your eye dramatically as Jungkook laughed – in that beautiful high-pitched laugh he made when he found something really funny – and approached you.

“Lemme see,” he said, grabbing your phone as he plopped down on the bed by your side.

The both of you laughed until the girl whose room was right next to yours knocked on the wall, letting you know that you were disturbing her.

You clasped a hand over your mouth to muffle your laughs. Jungkook hid his face on your pillow, but from how his body was shaking, you could see he was still laughing.

“Stop laughing,” you protested, your laughs dying down as you sat on his lower back. “If she knocks once again, then I won’t be able to protest ever again when she makes a noise.”

“Why do you care?” he said, lifting his head from the pillow and craning his neck so he can stare at you. “You’ll graduate on Sunday.”

“Yeah, but I’ll live here until I find a good apartment and a job as a nurse!”

“Whatever, it will be summer and no one cares about noise in summer.”

You rolled your eyes. “You say this because you don’t live here.”

He arched his brow and, in one swift movement, pulled you away from him and laid on his back, placing you back on top of him.

“You could just move in with me.”

You arched a brow back.

“What do you mean?”

“What does ‘moving in’ means?” he teased you, pinching your sides.

Your heart skipped a bit. Just the thought of waking up in that fluffy bed, under the sunlight that seeped from those big windows and seeing the mass of wavy, bed-hair that was Jungkook made your tummy jump.

“Isn’t it a bit soon for that?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “If I get tired of you and your obsession with order and tidying, I will kick you out.”

“Hey!” you pouted.

“But I’ll wait to kick you out until you have enough money saved to rent your own apartment, I’m not that cruel. What do you think about it?”

“Hmm… Let me think,” you placed your index finger and thumb on your chin, as if you were deep in thought. “I could enjoy a house that has more than one room… Your big TV is a pro too, and the shower, the bed…”

“And me?”

“You’re a con, definitely.”

He gasped and grabbed your sides, pushing you onto the bed and rolling on top of you. He started tickling you as you fought against him.

“Ah!” was the only thing you could say in between the laughs that erupted from your throat. He had always used your tickly skin against you, and you suddenly had a déjà vu, to a night you had been in your old apartment, debating whether you should play Mario Kart or Overwatch. Of course, he won, and you ended up playing Overwatch – which you hated because he always won you.

“You’re the biggest pro of them all,” you whispered in his ear.

The tickles soon turned into kisses and the screams into moans.

You could hear the girl in the room next to yours knocking on the wall, but neither of you cared, muffling your laughs with each other’s lips.

. . .

“Oh my God!” your mother gasped as she saw you emerging from your dorm building. “What a stunning daughter I have!”

She brought her hands to her mouth as she walked towards you to hug you.

“You only call me stunning when I wear make-up,” you chuckled, hugging her back.

She broke the hug, her hands on your shoulders as she eyed you up and down.

“Don’t lie,” she pouted. “Your father and I did a great job!”

You laughed and walked away from her and towards the car, greeting your grandparents and your aunt, who was sitting on the driver’s seat.

On the way to your campus, you were trembling, so nervous you couldn’t stop bouncing your leg up and down. Your lilac suit was making you sweat, so you took the blazer off, leaving you in your black crop top and the lilac pants.

You were nervous because that day was the last day of your life as a student, it was the door to your adult life. You were so used to going to class, or to practices, studying, preparing for the final exams… That you were afraid you wouldn’t know what to do without all that. You were nervous because you didn’t know how to walk with high-heels, and you were wearing a pair of black sandals taller than a pencil, you were sure you were going to trip on the stairs as you got on the stage once you heard your name in the big theatre hall of your campus. You were nervous because of a lot of things, but there was one that stood above the rest.

Jungkook.

That same night would be the final match of the wrestling season, and ever since you had sort of reconciled on Monday, you hadn’t spoken about it again. You didn’t know if he would fight or if he would stay at home. You had given him an invitation to the party that your classmates were throwing after the graduating ceremony, but he had just kept it in the back pocket of his jeans without saying a thing.

You closed your eyes and hoped that, whatever the decision Jungkook made was the right one.

Evey looked beautiful in her baby yellow dress, her long hair curled and falling down her shoulders softly. You nearly cried as you hugged her, you had gone through so much together… It was hard to believe that you were the same girls that had met four years before as you were trying to buy some snacks from the broken vending machine in your campus. It took you three lost coins to realize it was broken.

You clapped like crazy when her name echoed around the theatre hall and she did the same when it sounded yours. In the end, you didn’t trip with the stairs and you grabbed your diploma looking classy in your lilac suit.

You weren’t going to lie, you enjoyed the cocktail after the ceremony, and tried to make the most out of it with your family and your friends, but you were a bit out of it.

It was nine pm, in only one hour, the fight would start. It meant that, if Jungkook had made the decision of fighting, he was already there.

“Hello,” you heard a soft voice say.

Your aunt stopped talking and you turned around, a small sandwich in your hand, to see Evey awkwardly smiling at your family.

“Hey, Evey!” your mother smiled at her, hugging her. “Congratulations sweetheart, I’m so proud of the both of you.”

“Thank you,” she hugged your mother back, all smiles.

“Are your parents here?” your mother asked when they broke the hug. “I haven’t seen them.”

“Oh,” Evey said, turning around to point somewhere in the crowd. “Yeah, they’re there with my brother and my grandparents. They asked me about you too.”

“I’ll greet them later.”

“They’ll love it,” she smiled kindly. “It’s been great seeing you today.”

She said goodbye to your family and grabbed your hand, leading you away from them so you could talk in private.

“What happens?” you asked, frowning.

“I’m going now… To the match, are you coming?”

She knew nothing about you telling Jungkook not to fight that match, she still knew nothing about all the shit Taehyung and Jungkook were into. But she did know that you and Jungkook had “sorted everything out”.

“You’re skipping the party?”

“Yeah, you’re not?” now it was her who frowned. “It’s a pretty special night for Jungkook.”

“I promised myself I would never go to another wrestling match and I’ll keep it,” you said, nodding with your head. “Jungkook knows I’m not going.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come? We can still go to the party when the match ends.”

You shook your head. “I’m sure,” you smiled. “Just… If you see him, tell me I wish him the best of lucks.”

“Alright,” she shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll se him tonight anyways,” she wiggled her brows. “If he loses you can always comfort him, and if he wins, you can always celebrate with him… You know.”

“You can be sure of that,” you playfully said.

“Oh whoa! Y/N admitting she’s going to have sex with Jungkook… We’re witnessing the rise of a new era, everyone.”

“Things change, people evolve…” you laughed.

She laughed with you and hugged you. You held her tightly to you.

“We’ve done it, Evey,” you whispered.

“Yeah, against all odds, we’re fucking nurses.”

When you broke the hug, the both of you had tears in your eyes.

“We’re fucking weepy nurses,” you added.

“I don’t know what the future will bring to some crybabies like us,” she laughed.

“I don’t know either, Evey, but I know we will be happy as heck.”

“Yeah!”

“Just… Don’t marry Taehyung too son, will you? I mean, wait for a couple of years or something…”

She punched you in the arm.

“I love you,” she said, hugging you once again.

You smiled, hands caressing her back.

“I love you.”

You don’t know how much time you were there, hugging each other, you just know that every single memory you had with her flashed before you in that moment.

You patted her ass, breaking the hug.

“Go before you ruin my eyeliner, I spent an hour doing it,” you said.

“It’s already ruined,” she said, sticking out her tongue to you.

You brought your fingers to your eyes.

“Just joking!” she laughed, making you glare at her.

“I’ll kill you if you don’t disappear right now!”

“Alright! Alright!” he laughed, starting to walk away from you, towards the exit of your campus. “Let’s meet tomorrow for coffee!”

“I hate coffee!”

“I know!”

She waved at you and you remember her smiling face, and how pretty she looked in her flowy baby yellow dress as you watched her disappear.

. . .

You couldn’t keep your eyes away from the main entrance of the bar you and your classmates had rented for the party.

You had texted him the address an hour ago, but he hadn’t even seen it. You just hoped he hadn’t seen it because he was busy watching some TV, not because he was on top of a ring punching another boy.

“Here you have!” Mara cheerfully said, already drunk as heck. “Cheer up, girl! I know adult life sucks, but don’t let it get the best of you!”

You smiled softly, grabbing the drink she was offering you and thanking her.

You knew it was a special night, your graduation party, but you couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t Jungkook in that moment. Had Evey told him you wished him good luck? Was Evey seeing how he punched Jiwon over and over? Or was it the other way around? Jiwon punching Jungkook again and again?

Images of blood running down Jungkook’s nose filled your mind, his broken lip and bruised cheeks. You just couldn’t stand it.

Taking a long sip from the drink Mara had given you – and that you didn’t even know what the fuck it was made of – you finished the whole beverage, grimacing at the bitter liquid running down your throat.

You were sitting on a chair placed by the wall, not too far from the dace floor, where your friends where laughing and dancing, all drunk and happy. You envied them, you wished you could feel as lightheaded as they did in that moment, no other concern than having fun.

The lilac blazer rested on the back of your chair, and a bitter expression adorned your face. You knew you must be looking like the life of the party in that moment.

Leg bouncing up and down to the rhythm of the sound that was playing, your eyes travelled to the main entrance once again.

Nothing.

You could just go to the dorm and wait there, because you were going crazy.

After standing from your chair, you waved at your friends.

Mara frowned and approached you.

“Are you going already?!” she said, raising her voice so you could hear her above the loud music.

“Yeah, I’m a bit tired and these fucking heels are killing me.”

“Oh, what a shame,” Alfredo pouted, another one of your friends. “There was a really cute boy asking for you just a couple of minutes ago.”

You frowned. “Who?”

“Dunno, his face looked familiar but I don’t know where I’ve seen him before.”

“Where was he?” you asked, voice high-pitched.

You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but…

“Near the bathrooms, two minutes ago.”

“Alright, thanks!” you said, leaving your empty glass with them and making your way around the crowd so you could get to the bathrooms.

There was a small staircase leading down to them, and, as you stood before it about to start climbing it down, your eyes met a pair of black ones.

A pair of eyes you knew too well.

“You came,” you breathed, frozen in place.

“Yeah, but I was starting to think you hadn’t.”

You eyed him up and down. Jungkook was looking beautiful dressed in a black suit, white t-shirt with its first buttons undone. Classic yet breathtaking. His wavy, long hair fell on top of his forehead beautifully, parted a bit on the middle to allow him to see what was in front of him.

“How couldn’t I?” you laughed. “This is my graduation party.”

It wasn’t until you felt something warm rolling down your cheek that you noticed you were starting to cry. You brought one hand up to wipe the tears away.

“Hey,” he whispered, climbing up the final stairs and approaching you until his arms were around you.

He let your hand fall to your side and started wiping your tears away himself.

“Why are you crying?”

His voice was so soft and melodious that you couldn’t help but cry even more. It was the first time you were letting yourself fully cry in front of him, and you were just as confused as he was.

“I-I…” you stuttered. “I don’t know, I just can’t believe you’re here, I was so worried…”

He smiled softly.

“Well, I’m here,” he said, his thumbs caressing the skin underneath your eyes. “And stop crying, or you’ll ruin your makeup.”

You didn’t give a single fuck about your makeup, to be honest.

“Fuck my makeup,” you scoffed, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him against you, caging him in between your arms.

For once, you could finally breathe.

Did all that mean that he hadn’t fought? He surely didn’t look like it… Did it mean that…?

You broke the hug and grabbed both of his cheeks with your hands.

“Are you alright? You don’t have any wounds or –“

“I didn’t fight, didn’t even show up,” he said, interrupting your.

His words only made more tears appear in your eyes.

“Agh,” he protested. “Stop crying or this will look like a funeral instead of a graduation party.”

“They’re happy tears.”

“I don’t like seeing you cry,” he softly whispered, fingers wiping away the tears once again. “Don’t care if they’re happy tears or not. It breaks my heart.”

“Who is the sappy one right now?”

You teased him, sniffling as he finished cleaning your face from any tears that remained.

“I’m so happy you’re here right now.”

“I’m so happy I’m here with you right now,” he smiled. “I would have died if I hadn’t seen you dressed in this suit, you look so sexy I don’t even want to be here right now.”

You bit your lower lip.

“Can this stop? We look like one of those cheesy, romantic couples.”

“Ew, no,” he grimaced, taking a step back.

You laughed. You thought your heart was going to explode at any moment from how happy you were. He had listened to you, he hadn’t gone to the fight, he hadn’t fought against Jiwon. He had chosen you, his mother, a normal life, over all the violence and pain and danger.

You were whipped.

“Let’s dance,” you suggested, grabbing his hand and dragging him to the dance floor.

“Thought you didn’t dance,” he said from behind you.

“Once a year can hurt nobody!”

He laughed as you stopped walking and turned around to face him. People surrounded you, but it was as if you were the only ones inside the bar.

“Tell me, Jungkook,” you said, smirk on your face. “Did you buy that suit just for my graduation party?”

He smirked back.

“Maybe.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Maybe? I can already picture you going shopping, thinking about what suit should you buy for a graduation party. Would it be too inappropriate to attend in your usual black jeans and oversized t-shirts?”

He grabbed your lower back with one hand and pressed you against his.

“What does it matter? You’re going to take it all off by the end of the night,” he whispered in your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

You liked how that sounded. You were just about to tell him that, when the DJ spoke.

“Ladies and gentlemen! You better grab a partner because, what would a graduation party be without some slow dance!”

“Fuck,” the both of you mumbled at the same time.

You laughed loudly as you saw the fear in each other’s eyes. You hated dancing, even more, slow dancing.

Jungkook shrugged and offered you his hand.

“Once a year can hurt nobody, can’t it?”

You smiled and grabbed his hand confidently. The notes of a guitar started sounding and everyone around you stopped jumping and screaming and grabbed a partner.

“I hate this,” you growled, looking all around you.

“Me too,” Jungkook whispered in your ear. “But if we don’t do this I’m afraid we’ll catch their attention and they’ll kick us out of here.”

“Fuck, without even grabbing a couple drinks first?” you hasped, eyes wide as you leaned back to stare at him.

He nodded solemnly. “Without even grabbing a drink first.”

“We need to dance, then,” you said. “To convince them we’re one of them. That we’re romantic and cheesy.”

“We must dance.”

You smiled and placed your hands around his neck, arms resting on his shoulders as his hands found your lower back.

“I’ve never done this, so sorry if I step on you with my heels or something.”

“If you step on my feet with those killing heels I will have to go on a wheelchair for the rest of my life.”

You chuckled, muffling your sounds with the palm of your hand.

“Shh,” Jungkook shushed you. “If you laugh, they will see us! You have to act serious and in love.”

“What?” you scoffed.

“Serious and in love, remember,” he said, straightening his back.

You chuckled some more and then, closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Your fingers intertwined behind his neck, fingers grazing the strands of his dark hair.

When you opened your eyes again, you found those black, round eyes that somehow looked like the eyes of a cute anime character. Under the shitty lights of the bar, they were glimmering.

Suddenly you were really nervous and trembly, but you couldn’t avert your eyes away from his, as if he had some sort of magnetic pull towards you.

The only things you remember in that moment are the beautiful music and his dark eyes, as infinite as the night sky above you.

He pressed you a bit tighter against him, feeling each other breaths every time you exhaled.

From up close, you could really see him and admire him, and feel the luckiest person on Earth because, somehow, your path had crossed Jungkook’s in this infinite road that life is.

You weren’t nervous anymore, nor worried, you were just in love. Just like him. Two young people in love, dancing to a slow song in the middle of a crowded dance floor. Maybe there were other couples in love on the dance floor in that moment, but none of them shone like the two of you did, no one looked at each other like you did.

One of your foot accidentally stepped on one of his, and your eyes widened.

“Ups, sorry,” you said.

“Ouch,” he laughed, acting as if it hurt him more than it did. “Someone bring the wheelchair!”

Some people around you stared at him, scowl in their faces as he had interrupted their romantic moments.

You laughed and hid your face in the crook of his neck, resting your head on his shoulders.

As you closed your eyes, it finally felt like home. With his scent surrounding you, his body moving with yours as the music guided him, his hands holding you. You could spend the rest of your life like that.

Just the two of you, holding each other, loving each other.

It was funny, how at the beginning you had hated each other so much and had been sure you wouldn’t even touch him with a stick, and now there you were, wishing he would touch the entirety of your skin and that you would touch the entirety of his. Your paths had crossed, looking like it was another crash in the passing of time, but then, they had become parallel lines that walked together. Life really was capricious.

When the slow music turned into disco music, you grabbed some drinks and kept dancing like nothing had happened. Like you hadn’t been dancing like two birds in love just seconds before. You joked around and ended with your heels in Jungkook’s hands as you jumped to the music.

He had carried you home on his back, the bar not too far from your door building. Your arms around your neck as you talked non-stop – blame it on the alcohol and your sore feet.

You still talked and laughed as he threw you one your bed and made love to you. That slow song was still playing inside your mind as he peppered kisses all over your naked body. You hummed the song as your fingers traced his skin just like the musician’s fingers had caressed the strings of his guitar as he sang the song. Jungkook had never felt so loved and full before.

The sex was a bit messy – since the both of you were in a state between drunk and ecstatic – clashing of teeth, bangs against the wall, you nearly ripping Jungkook’s shirt open, him tripping as he got out of his boxers and nearly falling on top of your desk… But it was the pure definition of the both of you, messy yet loving, passionate and young. Infinite as much as it was brief.

. . .

A deaf noise jolted you awake.

You were a bit disoriented as you sat on your bed, brushing the fallen strands of your hair away from your face. Rubbing your eyes as you opened them, you tried to understand what was going on and what had woken you up.

Your room was still dark, but you had let your blinds rolled up so the moonlight seeped in.

When your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you finally could make out what was going on.

Besides you, the bed was empty, the sheets unmade as if Jungkook had woken up in a haste.

“Just calm down and tell me what’s going on,” you heard the deep voice of Jungkook.

He was sitting on the floor, by the bed, back resting on its side as he held his phone to his ear.

You frowned a bit, who would call at 3 am?

“Joon, please, calm down, you’re freaking me out.”

You kneeled on the bed and crawled towards its side until you were behind Jungkook. He softly moved his head to the side, looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Tell me,” he sighed. “No, I’m with Y/N.”

A long pause followed his words, and suddenly, a thick silence filled the room.

A cry escaped Jungkook’s throat. It was so low you weren’t even sure if you had imagined it.

“W-what?” he gasped.

Confused, you sat on the floor by his side. His face was like nothing you had ever seen, contorted in pure pain and agony.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, this can’t be…” he hid his face in between his bent knees, his free hand pulling harshly from his hair. “This can’t be happening.”

“Jungkook…” you whispered, caressing his shoulder trying to comfort him.

“FUCK!” he screamed, startling you and making you pull your hand away from him.

He stood up, pacing around the room frantically. You stared at him, worry starting to seep through every limb, bone and organ.

“FUCK!” Jungkook kept screaming, sometimes sobbing in between screams.

Jungkook was crying.

“This can’t be happening, Joon,” he sniffled. “This can’t… Fucking hell! Fuck! FUCK!”

You stood up, but didn’t dare touch him in case you startled him or something.

“W-what happened?” he kept saying, tears rolling down his cheeks. “W-who did it… How?”

A long pause followed his words. You blinked a few times, heart aching for him, despite not knowing what exactly had happened. You just knew, that it had to be something really bad, for the way Jungkook was breaking in front of you.

“Where are you? No, Namjoon, I’m going. If you think I’ll stay here as if nothing hap – Can you let me speak?! I’m not going to stay here! Send me your location and I’ll go.”

You approached him. He had his forehead pressed against the wall, body completely rigid.

“I don’t fucking care what you all say or what’s best, I already let him down, I won’t let him down twice,” he growled. “Sent me the location.”

With that, he hung up.

He started shaking, and you, afraid that he was crying again, approached him. But once you did, you stopped yourself from touching him.

He wasn’t trembling because of the cries, he wasn’t even crying anymore, he was trembling in pure anger, fists clenched and eyes closed.

“J-Jungkook,” you stuttered. You hated the tremble in your voice, and you hated yourself for being scared of him in that moment, but that was exactly what you were, scared to the bone.

You had never seen him so angry yet so calm, not even during the fights.

“Jungkook, what’s wrong?”

You decided to fight against yourself and placed another comforting hand on his shoulder.

As soon as you touched him, he flinched away from you, opening his eyes and walking away from the wall as he breathed heavily.

“Jungkook…” you whispered. His eyes were red and puffy from his previous outburst, and he had his jaw clenched. “What is it?”

“Taehyung and Evey are dead,” he spat the words so suddenly, that it felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown all over your body.

“W-what?” you stuttered, barely being able to form any word.

“Fuck, Taehyung and Evey are dead!” he screamed, making you flinch and cover your eyes.

No. It couldn’t be real. You must be dreaming, sleeping soundlessly by Jungkook’s side on your bed. In a couple of hours, when the sun was high up in the sky, Evey would text you and you would both go to your favorite café to order a coffee and some green tea.

It couldn’t be real.

Jungkook started pacing around the room once again, pulling from his hair, growling and crying all over again.

“No…” you were mumbling. “What?”

You were even gasping for air, like a fish out of water.

“They attended the match… You were right, it was a trap,” Jungkook mumbled. “They did it… Mr. Kang and fucking Jiwon, they did it! They killed my brother!”

You cried and pressed your hands further against your ears, refusing to hear him, refusing to acknowledge what was happening.

“No… Evey.”

“They all waited for me to appear for two hours, and when I didn’t, the match was called off and they all went home. Taehyung, Evey and the boys stayed there, trying to reach out to me, but to no avail, so they ended up leaving. Mr. Kang men followed Tae and Evey down to Taehyung’s apartment and caught them in there… Namjoon and Hoseok found them an hour ago because Tae wasn’t answering the phone.”

A shiver run down your spine. Flashes of Taehyung and Evey laughing together in Tae’s apartment, you telling them they were gross as they kissed and showed their love to everyone. Flashes of them on the sofa, Evey on top of him as he grabbed her hips with his large hands, eyes always shiny as long as they were looking at her. Flashes of them on the floor, blood spilling from their bodies and accumulating on the floor as their eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. One next to the other.

You gasped for air. You didn’t know when you had stopped breathing, but suddenly you had felt your lungs closing and your throat constricting.

You put a hand on the wall, stopping you from falling to the floor.

“Evey… Tae…” was all you could mumble.

When you lifted your eyes from the floor, you saw Jungkook putting his clothes back on, not even bothering to grab his blazer.

“W-where are y-you going?” you stuttered.

“I’m going to get those fucking bastards and make them pay for what they did.”

“No!” you said, throwing yourself at him. “No, please Jungkook, don’t do that.”

“Get off me!” he growled, pulling your arms away from him.

“Please, please,” you kept pleading, following him towards the door. “Don’t go there.”

“I listened to you before, I didn’t attend the match… And look where Taehyung and Evey are now! It should have been me the one who died tonight, not them.”

The mere thought of Jungkook dying made you want to throw up.

“Don’t go, please,” you kneeled on the floor, hugging one of his legs. “Don’t leave me. I can’t lose you too.”

“Let go of me, this is what I have to do.”

“Please.”

With a harsh pull, he pulled his leg out of your embrace.

“I have to do this,” he said, hand grabbing the doorknob. “I have to do what’s right. This is right.”

“They’re already gone, Jungkook, getting yourself killed won’t bring them back.”

“I don’t fucking care, my brother is dead Y/N, it’s as if I was dead too.”

“Don’t say that, don’t go,” you kept pleading. “Stay with me.”

“I can’t stay. Don’t come after me, please, stay here, it’s the only thing I’ll ask of you.”

“J-Jungkook,” you stuttered, blinking your eyes as the light of the corridor appeared and disappeared in mere seconds.

In the blink of an eye.

You stayed there, in the darkness of your room, kneeling naked on the old carpet. You were quiet, eyes glued to the closed door.

Darkness filled you, darkness surrounded you… And you wondered how things could change so quickly, when you had been feeling so full and giddy just hours ago.

Finally, you let out a sob, and then other, and the next second, you were crying on the floor, face hidden behind your hands.

He had left you with the same words that once made you wanted to leave. I can’t. I can’t love you. I can’t stay.

Both times you had pleaded him, to love you, to stay, and both of them, he had told you he couldn’t. What was it about the two of you that you wanted but couldn’t? Was it that you weren’t made for each other? He wanted to love you, but he couldn’t. He wanted to stay, but he couldn’t. You both wanted to be together, but you couldn’t, and each time you tried to go against those words, life proved you wrong and them right.

You feared your thoughts were true, you feared you couldn’t be with Jungkook. You feared there would be a time when he wouldn’t be part of your life anymore, a mere memory.

Flashes of Evey filled your mind.

Her with her radiant smile and comforting words, with those horrendous dramas she liked to watch, with her hot temper and big heart. Her, with her bag always full of extra pens she could borrow to you. Her, with her open arms and warm hugs. Her, with her head full of dreams and full of Taehyung. Her, in her flowy baby yellow dress in your graduation party.

“Yeah, against all odds, we’re fucking nurses,” she had murmured in your ear, radiant as ever.

She had always wanted to be a nurse, and she had told you multiple times how hard she had worked for it. She wanted to work at some hospital for some years before going to some country where aid was needed, she wanted to help those who needed it the most.

And now, she was gone, and the only thing that remained of her was the memory of her, in her flowy baby yellow dress walking away from you.

With thoughts of Evey, another thought appeared inside your mind. What if it was the last time you saw Jungkook too? What if you never got to see his beautiful face once again, or be gifted with one of his radiant smiles? What if you never got to hug him, touch him, smell him, kiss him again? What if you never got to tell him how much you loved him, and how proud you were of him?

The mere thought of that, sent bile to your mouth.

You stood up from the floor and grabbed your phone. You called the boys, one by one, but none of them answered.

You had some text messages from your family, telling you how proud they were of you and how much they loved you. But in that moment, it didn’t matter.

You opened Evey��s contact. She was offline.

You saw her profile picture. She was smiling, sitting on Taehyung’s lap. The both of them were laughing at something, his hands on her hips, her hands on top of his. You had been the one taking the picture months ago.

Rubbing your nose, you put on some clothes and sat on the bed, not knowing what to do.

Should you call Jungkook? Should you call… Who? Your family could do nothing but worry about you, you didn’t want to involve the police in case things got worse… You couldn’t do anything but sit there and wait. Wait, for Jungkook to arrive or for him to never come back, you never knew.

Tears dried on your skin and your head hurt so much you thought it was going to explode at any moment. Your lips were swollen, and your eyelids too, so much that it was almost difficult for you to keep your eyes open.

You don’t know how much time went by, you just remember staring at the window and seeing the colors in the sky slowly change, from a dark blue that looked almost black, to a beautiful cyan, to soft lilac hues with pink undertones.

Birds starting to sing and the city started to wake up.

And you were still waiting.

Your eyes had closed from tiresome and you had fallen back on the bed when you heard a knock on the door.

Immediately, you jumped on your feet and rushed to the door. Jungkook. Was it him?

Without even thinking twice, you opened the door, out of breath.

A dark shadow pushed you inside your room, grabbing you from the front of your t-shirt and slammed the door closed behind him.

“Hello, beautiful,” Jiwon smiled at you.

Your eyes widened in recognition, his face hidden beneath the shadows of his hoodie, but still, you could see a trail of blood dripping from his left eyebrow.

You opened your mouth to scream for help, but a gloved hand covered your mouth and no sound came from it.

With his other hand, he held the back of your head and pressed tightly.

“Hmpf,” you were protesting, trying to bite the skin of his hand but teeth only finding the leather material of the gloves.

“Shh, you don’t want t hurt me, don’t you? I thought we were friends.”

You couldn’t even think about defending yourself, it had all happened so quickly and you were so tired and drained… You were a limp puppet in his hands.

“Aren’t you going to delight me with your self-defense knowledge? What a disappointment… After all my brother told me I thought today would be fun,” he said, smirking wickedly as he slammed you against the wall.

His hand, still placed on the back of your head, absorbed the strength of the impact, but your back wasn’t protected by anything and you felt a sharp pain.

“Ah, did I hurt you?” he said. “Sorry.”

You had never seen that side of Jiwon. He looked just like his brother, a wicked version of him. His eyes looked shinier, almost as if he was crazy.

“I guess you’ll have to get used to it.”

His hands travelled once again to the front of your shirt and, before you could say anything, he was throwing you across the room, body falling against your desk with a loud boom. You gasped when you felt the edge of your desk hit your back, body falling onto the floor with another loud noise.

You tried to move away from him, crawling like a snake towards the door. Before you could move more than a couple of centimeters, he placed the thick sole of his booth on your lower back and forced you to stay still.

“Agh!” you protested.

He sat himself on your lower back in a swift motion and placed his hands on your mouth once again, in case you asked for help.

“See, as I don’t want to be worried about you being too loud, I’ll apply an easy solution.”

You heard him move, one of his hands retreating from your mouth. Some seconds passed and then, his hand was back on your mouth, this time shoving something inside. It was something that felt like a cloth, so big that you thought your jaw would dislocate. A metallic taste filled your mouth.

“Sorry it’s a bit dirty… I didn’t have time to wash it after going to your friend’s apartment…”

Your eyes opened wide in recognition and a wave of nausea hit you, gagging multiple times.

“Don’t worry, it didn’t touch them with it, I just used it to clean my hands from their blood.”

You gagged once again, tears filling your eyes. You felt as if you were going to throw up right there and you would choke on your own vomit, so you tried to calm yourself. Cold mind, cold mind Y/N, think please.

He grabbed your hands and held them behind your back with one of his, the other grabbing your hair forcefully and forcing you to lift your head from the floor.

“Oh, no, Y/N, why are you crying? Am I hurting you? No… I didn’t want this to happen, I swear, but each time you disappeared, you appeared back again like the little whore you are. You wanted to make Jungkook jealous with me, huh? Well, I must thank you for the act, you were truly helpful to me.”

He chuckled, the sound was a vicious noise to your ears.

“You brought me closer to him and made him weaker… Women always make men weaker for them, always find their easy spots. Pff,” he scoffed.

Suddenly, he slammed your head against the floor. You felt your whole head reverberating, the pain mixing with the headache being almost unbearable.

“My brother told you to tell Jungkook to show up at the match… He didn’t,” he slammed your head on the floor again, your vision becoming blurry.

When he felt your body relaxing underneath his, he let go of your wrists and stood up.

The back of his boot slammed against your side, a sharp pain echoing through your whole body. Black dots appeared in your line of vision, and the only thing you could see was the dusty floor beneath your bed and a pair of socks that you had left forgotten there.

You followed his movements with the corner of your eyes.

He began pacing around your room, looking at the decorations on the wall. He was so sure you were done, that he wasn’t even sparing you a glance.

You tried to move, but your limbs weren’t responding you. You clenched your teeth in frustration.

“I’m curious… Was he even going to show up? I didn’t know he was such a coward,” he waited for you to answer, but when he remembered you couldn’t, he cracked up. “How silly I am! You can’t talk!”

You growled when he looked at you, but he just shrugged and focused his eyes on the wall in front of your bed. There were polaroids of you and Evey all over the place.

The mere thought of him staring at her pictures just after what he had done to her…

“It’s such a shame, you know?” he began saying.

He was so absorbed in his own little word and full of arrogance, that was facing his back to you as he looked at the pictures without even worrying about him.

Well, you have underestimated me once again.

Closing your eyes tightly, you thought of Evey. Of her beautiful baby yellow dress stained with a deep crimson red right now. Of her body lying on Taehyung’s carpeted floor. You thought of her blood pooling beneath her body, staining too, the purple carpet. You thought of Jiwon standing before her, wiping his blood-covered hands in the cloth you now had in your mouth.

With all the strength that was still left in your body, you placed your hands on the floor and flexed your elbows. The cloth muffled your cries of pain, your side really hurt.

“That two young girls like you, with all their lives ahead of them, so pretty and full of future… Had to get involved with two guys like them and fuck everything up. Taehyung got Evey killed… And now Jungkook will get you killed too…”

You felt dizzy once you were crouched on the floor, but you knew there was no time to waste.

Supporting your body on the desk behind you, you grabbed the desk lamp that was in there with your other hand. A metallic old piece of shit you had protested a lot about, but that now, would come in handy to you.

With a strong pull from it, you unplugged it from the wall and held it in the air, above Jiwon’s head.

He didn’t have enough time to react only turning around, and before he could do anything, the lamp crashed with force against the side of his head. You heard a deafening sound and then, his body was falling backwards onto your bed.

Letting the lamp fall to the floor, you quickly shoved the cloth out of your mouth, nearly throwing up in the process.

Your body fell to the floor, resting on your hands and knees as you spat all your friend’s blood.

Your whole body was trembling, aching, and you were starting to black out from those sharp bangs your head had received.

You could hear Jiwon crying in pain and you were trying to stand back on your feet so you could rush to the corridor and ask for help, but you had spent all your energies in grabbing the lamp and smashing it against Jiwon’s head.

You felt him move, and wanted to move too, but you couldn’t.

Before you could even cry, he grabbed you by the hair and slammed your head backwards against the table. You felt cold spreading from where the table had hit you, to the rest of your head and neck.

Your back rested on the stack of drawers that formed party of your desk. You were gasping for air as you saw Jiwon crouching before you. You wanted to scream, now with your mouth free of the cloth. But still, you couldn’t say a word.

Your head fell limply to the side, and you felt Jiwon’s hand grabbing your chin and forcing your head to stay upright.

“You think you’re more intelligent than me, huh? That you will get out of this, huh?”

Blood was dripping from his forehead, and his grip wasn’t as tighter as he was before.

His hands travelled towards your neck.

“That first night I met you, of course I knew who you were… Word spreads fast,” his hands were barely caressing you, knowing you couldn’t make anything to pull them away from you. “I truly couldn’t understand why Jungkook had set his eyes on you, you looked so dull and ordinary… You would have never caught his eye. But then, you told me you were dressing as Hellboy, not Hellgirl, and when we spoke you had guts, sarcasm and were wity… Then, I knew why he had set his eyes on you,” he smirked, his hands tightened around your neck.

“The fact that you kept coming back to me each time was almost comical, you made me think you were another one of Jungkook’s hook ups, you know? Your attitude and that pettiness had made him want you, but once he had had you, I thought he would let you go. And surprisingly! He fell for you!” he started laughing, as if he had just made one of the funniest jokes he had ever heard. “Not even my brother believed me when I told him Jeon was in love with you! He didn’t believe me until he didn’t show up tonight.”

You started to feel your feet getting cold and numb. You wanted to lift your hands and reach for him, but you couldn’t.

You gasped for air.

“I must admit you’re pretty tough… What a waste of – ”

You knew he kept talking, but you couldn’t hear him. Just a buzzing sound and your head suddenly was too heavy for you to bear it.

The black dots appeared once again, and you fought to keep your eyes open. Your lids felt so heavy…

His lips kept moving, his hands couldn’t press tighter against your neck because he, himself, was fighting against his own body too. You could see it in the way his head swung sometimes.

You blinked. Saw the door to your room opening. Light seeping inside of it. A body entered the room. You blinked. Jiwon’s hands disappeared from around your neck, and your body fell limply against the floor, your head falling on top of one of your arms and amortizing the fall. You blinked. You could see a set of black shoes, covered in dots of crimson red. They looked familiar to you but you couldn’t remember where you had seen them. You blinked. Jiwon’s boots appeared right in front of the pair of shoes. You blinked, lids getting heavier and heavier. After a few seconds, Jiwon’s body fell limply to the floor, right next to yours. You blinked. You could see Jiwon’s face. His eyes stared blankly and lifelessly at you. You blinked.

Someone lifted your upper body from the floor, your head spinning from the movement.

You could feel your body shaking, or was that someone who had lifted you from the floor the one shaking you? You tried to focus your eyes but you couldn’t, everything was happening so slowly…

“… Y/N…” you somehow heard your name, but it sounded so distant… Almost as if you were under water. “Y/N… Please baby, stay with me…”

You tried to blink once again, but this time, your eyelids didn’t answer to you.

“… I can’t lose you too… Stay with me… I won’t be able to bear it��”

And then, everything went black and peaceful, frighteningly peaceful.

. . .

It was as if you had been asleep for a long time, except for the fact that your whole body ached and you didn’t feel rested at all.

The first thing you noticed was a familiar scent.

Something that smelled like antiseptic and cleaning products, like the alcohol you use to wash your hands.

It was something you had become familiar with.

Hospitals.

You made a great effort in opening your eyes, your vision blurry and cross-eyed.

The noises around you were familiar too. Beeps of the ECG and scratches of the small wheels of the medication carts against the floor.

You were in a hospital.

Finally, you snapped your eyes open, staring all around you, a bit disoriented.

“Oh my god, sweetheart,” you heard a soft voice say from behind you. “You’re awake.”

You focused your eyes on the direction of the voice, finding the face of your mother. She had a frown on her face, but looked somehow relieved. Her eyes were red and swollen, and her hair was disheveled and all over the place.

“Love,” she whispered, sitting on the armchair by your bed and placing a hand on your cheek. “You’re here with me…”

You frowned and closed your eyes for a moment, taking your time. Your body hurt, your head hurt, everything hurt, but there was a pain that outstood the rest, and it wasn’t physical. Your heart ached, it made you want to rip every single venous line you had in your body and scream at the top of your lungs.

Flashes of a yellow dress fill your mind, and then, images of blood and bodies lying on the floor.

“Evey…” you whispered.

Your mother brought a hand to her mouth.

“Oh, sweetheart… You know about Evey?” she asked you. You nodded softly. “I’m so sorry… What happened to her… We’re all heartbroken. For a moment I thought you’d have the same fate as her...”

You opened your eyes, your vision was blurry from the tears.

“You know what happened to her?” you asked. Your mouth felt dry and it was difficult for you to speak.

She nodded. “It’s horrible what happened to her and her… Boyfriend. Their parents didn’t even know she was dating someone. Apparently, the boy was involved with bad people and… Got Evey involved too.”

You looked away. It hurt to hear your mother talk about Taehyung like that. It hurt to think that Evey’s family were probably hating him now, blaming him for Evey’s death… But wasn’t him the one at fault for Evey’s death?

You clenched your fists in anger.

“Did you know she was dating that boy? That he was… Dangerous?”

Yeah, you had, and despite all the conversations with Evey, all the fights telling her he wasn’t good for her… You had caved in along with her and all of them. If you had been a better friend, if you had insisted more… If you hadn’t gotten involved too, maybe you wouldn’t be in that hospital room with your mother looking like she had spent a whole week crying. Maybe Evey wouldn’t be dead.

It was not Taehyung’s fault, he just loved Evey so much. You remember the pure fear in his eyes that night he told you about his and Jungkook’s business. How he had pleaded you to keep Evey out of all that. He just loved her and she just loved him. It wasn’t their fault.

But you should have been the rational one, convinced Evey that the boy wasn’t good for her and that the best she could do was ignore her feelings. And you had been… Until you followed her steps.

“No…” you breathed. It felt like you were betraying Taehyung a little, letting him be the bad one. “I didn’t know she had a boyfriend either.”

You looked back at your mother and she looked angry as she grabbed your hands with more strength, as if she was afraid you would just disappear.

“You have to be careful with who you get involved with, look what happened to Evey, look what happened to you,” she said.

“What happened to… Me?”

She caressed your knuckles “Those delinquents who… Did that to Evey, came looking for you thinking you would have some sort of information. They not only nearly killed you, but they killed a poor boy who came to defend you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Jungkook.

“A… A p-poor boy who came to defend me?” you gasped, you felt as if you were out of breath.

“His name was Kim Jiwon,” your mother nodded, closing her eyes as if feeling the pain. “He had been missing since he was ten, his older brother taking him away from his family. They came from a wealthy family, but apparently, the older brother was involved in some dark business and their parents kicked him out. He brought poor Kim Jiwon with him.”

Jiwon was dead… And they thought he was the good one?

You wanted to speak but bit your tongue. You didn’t know where Jungkook was or if he was safe, you didn’t want to risk his safety by asking about him.

Nothing in your mother’s testimony made sense, the reality you knew was another. Of course it could be true that Jiwon and his brother came from a wealthy family… But the fact that he was a good boy and that had come to your rescue? No. Maybe that was police wanted to make everyone believe so things wouldn’t get any more complicated.

“Those… Assholes, nearly took you away from me,” your mother said after a few seconds, snapping you back to reality. She threw herself at you on the bed, accidentally hitting your side and making you almost see black from the pain. You didn’t say a thing though, she had been worried enough about you. “I thought I was going to lose you. The doctors said you needed time to recover from the hits to your head and kept you sedated, they told me you would eventually wake up but that they didn’t new if there would be any consequences left…”

“How much time have I been… Here?”

“A week.”

Your eyes widened. “Grandad, grandma? Auntie?”

“They’re all home. Police called us just when we were about to return home. I bought them train tickets and told them that I would take care of you. I didn’t tell them how bad the wounds were, didn’t want to worry them too much… You already know your grandmother… But they asked me that you called them when you were feeling better, no pressure, you need to rest first and then we can call whoever you want.”

You nodded with your head. You wanted to talk about Jungkook. Where he was, if he was safe, if he was still alive…

You remember that voice before blacking out, it was his.

“Who found me?”

“Police did, a boy called them.”

“And they only found me in my room?”

Your mother frowned.

“I mean, was I alone in my room when they found me?”

“Well, yeah,” she blinked. “Except for that other boy. Poor soul… Did you know him?”

“Hmm…” you didn’t want them all to think Jiwon was a ‘poor soul’ and that he was the victim of it all. “I had seen him around before, he was always into shady things…”

“But police told us –“

“Police didn’t know him,” you cut her. “He was just as bad as the boys who did this.”

Your mother stayed silent.

“I’m so happy you’re back sweetheart,” she placed a kiss on your forehead. “But you should rest a bit now, you have two broken ribs and a strong head contusion.”

Ah, so that’s why your side hurt so much… It seemed like a miracle to still be alive after all the blows you had received.

“Alright,” you nodded with your head.

“I’ll call the doctor, tell her you’re awake.”

You nodded again.

She stayed all night with you. You watched her sleeping form on the armchair by your bed, you were so sorry for all the pain you must have caused her. You wondered if she had ever left your side once in the entire week you had been there.

You wanted to sleep, you felt so tired and drained, but you couldn’t. Your mind was full of thoughts of Jungkook. Your heart ached at the mere thought of something bad happening to him. He had clearly killed Jiwon… Fuck, he had killed someone, didn’t matter if that someone was Jiwon… He had his hands covered with his blood.

Just a week before you were running away from your graduating party with him, holding hands and laughing at everything that waited for the two of you. Now, you weren’t sure if there was even a ‘the two of you’.

It took you thirty minutes to convince your mother of the fact that, if she went to the cafeteria to have for once a decent breakfast and take a walk to clear her mind, you wouldn’t die.

She left after a thousand ‘are you sure?’, ‘keep your phone in the bedside table’, ‘if something happens call me and if you start feeling bad, call the nurses’.

When she left you alone, you sighed.

It was a lot to take in, and everything you thought about it, your head hurt.

You took the painkillers that the nurse had left on the bedside table for you. Now that you were awake, you didn’t need the saline solutions anymore, nor did you need to take all the meds via iv.

What if you called the boys? Would they tell you where Jungkook was, if he was fine? What if you called Jungkook?

You were there, your phone in your hands, when the door of your room opened.

Thinking it was a nurse, or your mother, repeating you if you were sure for the umpteenth time, you didn’t even spare a glance to the door. But you did once you saw the dark figure wasn’t moving.

Slowly, you lifted your gaze to the person who had entered the room, air disappearing from your lungs.

You didn’t even have time to say anything before he was running towards you and stretching you in his arms, face hidden in the crook of your neck. You could only lift your arms and encircle his torso with them.

You let out a long exhale of air. He was alive, he was there with you.

You started sobbing, ignoring the pain in your ribs and the pain inside your chest. He was there in your arms, and it was all that mattered to you.

“Y-you’re awake,” Jungkook breathed. “You’re alive.”

“You’re alive too, I-I thought I…”

He broke the hug and grabbed your face with both of his hands. You hadn’t seen him since he had entered the room, and you left a strangled gasp at the sight of his bruised face.

“Jungkook,” you said, hands coming up to caress his face. “Oh my God, what happened to you?”

Your eyes traveled across his face, hidden underneath the hood of his black sweatshirt. He had bruises all over his left cheek, covering the scar of the cut you had once sewed up. One of his eyes was swollen and covered in a yellowish tone, but from the look of it, it had been completely purple not to long ago. His once straight and round nose was curved on the bridge, an ugly cut on top of it. Your eyes ghosted over the scar.

“You didn’t go to the doctor? To anyone who could heal you?”

Jungkook grabbed your hand and pulled it softly away from him, only to grab your face once again and press his lips against yours, and then against your forehead, your cheeks, the tip of your nose, your chin, the corners of your lips.

“I thought I had lost you too…” he murmured in between kisses. Another kiss to your lips. “I thought you wouldn’t come back to me, I… I felt like dying when I entered your room and found Jiwon on top of you… I-I…” his voice broke and you looked up just in time to see two thick tears rolling down his cheeks.

You covered his hands with yours, cradling your cheeks.

“Seeing you looking so pale… And so still lying in my arms…” he closed his eyes. “It haunts me every night.”

“But now I’m here, Jungkook,” you whispered.

He leaned his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“You’re here…” he breathed, repeating your words.

“And you’re here too…”

He pursed his lips and you pulled your face away from his hands, trying to get a better look of his face.

“You need to see a doctor,” worried was laced in your voice as your eyes, once again, trailed his features.

He lowered his head and distanced himself away from you, hands still intertwined with yours.

“It’s okay, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, you’re nose looks like it’s broken. What happened to you? Where did you go when you left my room?”

“I shouldn’t have left your room, if I hadn’t, maybe…” he stopped himself.

“Maybe…” you said, trying to make him continue.

You tried to sit yourself up on the bed, but the pain in your side stopped you from doing so. Hearing your strangled cry, Jungkook lifted his eyes from the sheets of your bed and placed a hand on your shoulder, forcing you to lay back on the bed, the back of your bed slightly up.

“Maybe you wouldn’t be here right now and I wouldn’t have to…” he averted his eyes once again, lost somewhere beyond the window of your room, staring at the grey clouds that covered the sky. It looked as if he was deep in thought. You opted for giving him some time.

He took a deep breath, his face turned blank and you wondered what he was thinking about.

“I don’t have much time –“

“Why?” you interrupted him.

“I don’t have much time, I just heard the doctors outside yesterday say that you were finally awake and I wanted to see you but your mother was in here and I couldn’t. Your mother or anyone else can’t see me here.”

“Why? Why can’t they see you?” you said, frowning.

His eyes went back to yours. They looked dark and you felt like you were falling into the void when you stared at them.

“I wanted to see you,” he ignored your question. “Wanted to see you one last time and make sure you would be alright. I couldn’t stand the idea of not knowing if you’d be okay.”

“What do you mean with all this, Jungkook? You’re confusing me,” you closed your eyes as a dull pain started to fill every part of your head. “What do you mean with wanting to see me one last time?”

When you opened your eyes once again you felt small under his stare, under his dark eyes that were looking so intensely at you. He bit his lower lip, frowned, as if he was debating against himself.

“I have to go, Y/N,” he breathed, his voice barely audible and nearly blending with the sounds of the iv machine.

“Now? My mother won’t be back until –“

“I have to go to another city,” he interrupted you.

“Alright,” you nodded. “When you’re back I’ll probably be out of the hospital so –“

“No,” he interrupted you again, shaking his head. “You’re not understanding me. I’m going to another city. Forever.”

You stood silent after his words, only staring at him and breathing. Your eyes started to sting from the tears you had shed before and because you weren’t even blinking.

“F-forever?”

“Yeah,” he breathed.

“B-but, if you wait for me I’ll be able to go with you when the doctors discharge me.”

He smiled softly and brought one of his hands to caress your cheek. His eyes turned soft and he was staring at you almost as if he was… Sad.

“I cannot wait for you and I cannot bring you with me, you must stay here.”

Your eyes filled with tears.

“Why? I want to be with you.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I want to be with you, Y/N, believe me, I want nothing more in this world than to be with you… But I –“

You shook your head and pushed his hand away from you, averting your eyes from his.

“Don’t say you can’t, don’t say that.”

“You know I want to be with you, that I’d love to spend the rest of my days hearing your laugh and seeing your smile. Teasing you and making you angry… But… But I can’t.”

Hot tears rolled down your cheeks. That was what you two were, wasn’t it? A constant I want but I can’t.

“Staying with you means putting you in danger… Again. It means forcing you to leave your life behind, your career, your family and everything you know and love.”

“I wouldn’t care if it all was for you.”

“But I would. I would care.”

“So what? After all we went through, you’re just going to disappear and leave me here?”

“Don’t say it as if I was abandoning you, please,” he said, lowering his voice and closing his eyes. You couldn’t imagine how much your words hurt his heart.

“And what are you doing, Jungkook? I want to be with you, there’s nothing else in this world that I want more. I lied for you, I hid the truth from my best friend for months, I put myself in danger for you… I’ve shown you how much I want to be with you. How much I love you… I don’t have a say in all this?”

Jungkook clenched his teeth. He wished those beautiful words had spilled from your lips in a different place, under different circumstances.

It wasn’t easy for him either. He wanted to be with you too. To see your pretty face every day when he woke up, see how you scrunched up your face when he pinched your nose to wake you up. To see your hair shining under the sunlight, contrasting with the white pillow. He wanted to eat pizza with you at night, to show you the world and hand it to you on the palm of his hand. He wanted to see you make your dreams come true and grow as a person. He wanted to make his dreams come true by your side and make you proud by growing as a person.

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t do all that because he cared about you too much.

Because he knew what he had done and what would happen because of that. He knew he could never give you the life you wanted… The life you deserved. He couldn’t promise you a normal life with a normal future, normal holidays travelling and seeing the world, normal family with children and peace. He couldn’t, and that killed him.

Above everything he wanted… He wanted you to be safe, and that could only happen if he stayed away from you.

He shook his head, eyes still closed.

“No when your life is involved.”

“I’d rather live a short happy life, than live all my life regretting not spending it with you.”

He shook his head once again. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Of course I know what I’m saying! Do you think I’m someone who speaks without thinking first? I’ve lost too many things to lose another one, you can’t do this to me.”

“Believe me Y/N, this was not my plan, this was not what I wanted…” he stared at you. “I wanted to make things right for once, do what was correct. I wanted to leave the world of fights and drugs and violence and all that behind, leave Sungho and Mr. Kang and all their shit. I wanted to become someone you could be proud of. I wanted to become a better person for my mother. I didn’t want this.”

“Why is this happening, then? What went wrong? You seemed so happy last week.”

“I thought I had everything under control,” he said, shaking his head. “I thought that, if I went to the police and told them everything about Sungho and Mr. Kang, everything would be alright.”

“You listened to me?”

“At first I thought it was stupid… But then… I started to think that maybe it was the only way out… I just happen to forget that Mr. Kang has men everywhere.”

“They told him what you wanted to do?”

Jungkook sighed.

“The agreement was that I would give them all the information I had about Mr. Kang and Sungho’s business, enough to send them both to jail and their closest men with a pretty good sentence. In exchange, they would reduce my sentence and Taehyung’s to a couple of years and grant us protection while in jail so Mr. Kang and Sungho’s contacts couldn’t reach us.”

You nodded, encouraging him.

“But Mr. Kang heard about my agreement and acted before it could come true. I handed the cops all the information I had, names, places, bank accounts… Everything… And then went to your graduation ball in hopes that they would act quick enough for them to capture Mr. Kang and Sungho before the fight had even begun… The cops never appeared, and… And when I heard they had killed Taehyung I went searching for Mr. Kang and his men. Killed Jiwon’s brother, then Mr. Kang,” he said, as if it was something normal. “Lastly I killed Jiwon.”

You gulped. You blinked a few times staring at his hands. They were clean, but you knew they were stained in blood, just like Jiwon’s had been when he came to your room.

“The agreement was to hand the police Mr. Kang and their men alive… So now the agreement is over, and they’re going after me.”

“You can tell them what they did, tell them that he had undercover men.”

“They already know.”

“And then?”

“They just don’t know who they are,” he sighed. “It’s not that easy Y/N. Having some gang after me… I could hide with the protection Sungho offered me. But hiding from the police, after betraying both gangs… Sungho is in jail now and I’m sure he knows I was the one who sold him out, I don’t have his protection anymore and I can’t let police get me. Justice won’t be soft on me, and without their protection in jail, I’ll be dead.”

“There has to be other way…”

“There is,” Jungkook nodded, once again grabbing your hand in his. “Disappearing. Going as far as I can.”

You shook your head and closed your eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling.

“Listen to me, Y/N,” he said. “Look at me, look at me please,” he told you. You softly opened your eyes. The sky outside was so cloudy there was barely any light in the room. “This is what is best now, this is making things right. I wish I had more time to say goodbye, maybe a last week with you or so, but I already risked being here for a week waiting you would get better. Now that I know you’re safe, I can go –“

“Jungkook.”

“Let me finish, please,” he said.

You nodded, swallowing all your tears bitterly.

“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. You’re also the most stubborn and insufferable person I know,” you both laughed at that. “But it has brought me to life. You and your hot temper and attitude and your strong character and your snarky remarks. You have brought me to life, and I have no words to describe how thankful I am.”

You smiled at him, or at least tried, because your vision was so blurry you could perfectly be staring at the window.

“You’ve made me, for the first time in a long time, want to be better, want to make people proud of me. I haven’t been able to do so in the end,” he scoffed. “But I’ve tried, I swear I’ve tried.”

“I know.”

He grabbed your face with both hands.

“And I don’t want you to cry for us, or to be sad about what could have been,” he said, shaking his head. “Because we made the most out of the little time we had together. I wished it would have been eternal, a lifetime length, but it can’t be. I would do it all over again, maybe I would change some things like kicking you out of my apartment that night you met my mother…” you turned serious and he laughed at your face. “But I would do it all over again if it meant being with you.”

“I would do it all too, Jungkook. You’ve turned my boring life into something exciting.”

“So exciting it nearly killed you.”

And there they were, those words he always said that made you laugh even if your heart was breaking into a million pieces.

You closed your eyes as you laughed. It was bitter, but it was true. You basked in the warmth of his hands, in the comfort of his presence.

“Will I ever see you again?” you finally opened your eyes and stared at him.

His eyes were shinny and wet, looking as round as the planet Earth. You swore he could hold the whole wide world in them.

“I don’t know,” he whispered.

“I’ll wait for you, Jungkook. I’ll wait for you to come back to me. Maybe ten years from now, maybe fifty… I don’t care. I’ll wait for you.”

He shook his head.

“Don’t,” he smiled. “I don’t deserve it. Be happy, live a full life. Adopt a puppy and call him Jungkook –“

“You know I would never do something as cruel to a poor puppy as calling him Jungkook,” you interrupted him, trying to turn serious.

He laughed and stared at you with adoration written in his eyes. He couldn’t believe he was about to leave the woman of his life.

“Okay, call him Four-Cheese Pizza,” he joked. “Buy a nice house and go to IKEA to buy furniture and steal as many small pencils as you can from there. Dance and laugh and meet people… Travel around the world, get to know every place and think of me in each one of them hugging you, kissing you or making you trip,” you punched his arm and he laughed. “And maybe, one day, we’ll find each other again.”

“Maybe one day…” you breathed, as if it was your own promise.

He sealed that promise with his lips, caressing yours with them until you started to feel dizzy and him, breathless. It was a bitter seal that held a sweet promise.

The promise that maybe, you would come across each other again, in some corner of this world. The same world that Jeon Jungkook held in his eyes as he walked out of your hospital room and stared at you with those beautiful, dark, almost animalistic eyes, for the last time.

Present day…

The girl blinks, hoping the man will continue talking.

When she does so, some tears escape from her eyes and roll down her cheeks. She quickly wipes them away, not wanting the man to see her cry and make him feel bad.

He doesn’t see, though, his eyes lost in the cloudy sky outside the window. She has finally convinced the man to raise the blinds so the room wouldn’t be as dark.

When the girl sees the man isn’t going to talk, she opens her mouth.

“And what happened after that? Did you go back to the city? Did you see her again?” she asks, not being able to stop herself.

She can’t believe their story ended like that, no wonder why the man is so bitter and nostalgic all the time. If she had a love like that, and she let it go, she would also be bitter and nostalgic, though the circumstances weren’t the best…

The man smiles softly and stares at the girl.

“I did,” he says. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and for the first time, she sees him looking tired and drained besides sad and bitter.

“A-and… What happened? You went back together? Was she waiting for you?”

The man laughs at the questions. The girl is curious. She reminds him so much of you…

“Seven years later, I received a call from Namjoon. We kept in contact every once in a while, careful not to get caught,” he says. “Sungho had been killed in a brawl inside the jail. Some of his men died with him too. It was finally safe to return to the city.”

The girl smiles, waiting for the man’s next words, eager to hear him telling her about how he saw Y/N again.

“After seven years I went back to that city, my house. It had changed so much. The problematic area was now a neighborhood full of young couples and students. The neon lights had disappeared, they weren’t trendy anymore. Minho’s club had been turned into a gambling building… I searched for her as soon as I stepped a foot in that place.”

The girl leans forward in her chair. She’s excited.

“She was now living in a modest neighborhood, nice apartment, she owned a car of her own. A nice Chevrolet. She worked at a hospital not far from her apartment. There were some flower shops nearby and a small shopping center. It took me two weeks to gather the guts to go to the hospital and wait for her near the parking entrance. I sat on top of a stone bench waiting for her evening shift to end. It felt like an eternity, but when I heard her laugh and saw her walking out of the hospital front door and towards the parking entrance, I knew it had been more than worth it. She looked…” the man stops, eyes getting lost in the distance. The girl swore she could see the girl reflected in the man’s eyes, she swore he was seeing her all over again in his head.

“Breathtaking. She hadn’t changed one bit. She had cut her hair and her face looked brighter, but besides that, she was the same girl I had left in that hospital room seven years ago. It took me everything not to run to her and kiss her… But I didn’t. I stayed there, watching her walk with her colleague, laughing and talking about everything. I stayed there and when they approached too much, I ran away. It was like that for a month. Sometimes it was after the night shift, sometimes after the morning shift. Sometimes she walked with someone, sometimes she walked alone. Some days it rained, other days, it was sunny. But I never had the courage to stand from that stone bench and walk towards her.”

The girl’s smile vanishes and her eyes turn sad.

“One day, I told myself it would be the day. I brought some flowers in the nearby flower shop, some beautiful sunflowers. I sat on that bench and told myself that I would get her, the woman of my life, that I would kneel before her and tell her how much I had missed her, how much I…” the man stops, and his eyes return back to reality. He returns to his hospital room, to his bed. His eyes turn sad once again. “But then I saw her smiling at her phone, looking so bright and… Beautiful… And images of her in that hospital room, eyes filled with tears, looking sad while I broke her heart and told her we couldn’t be together, that I had to leave the city, to leave her came to my mind. I couldn’t see her sad once again, and somehow, I knew my presence would bring her that. Sadness. Would bring her all the bad memories and feelings. I wanted her to remain happy and bright and healthy.”

The man stops, and the girl bounces her leg up and down impatiently.

“So I told myself that it was better that way. That she thought I was still lost somewhere across the sea. I stood up, threw the flowers on a nearby trashcan and stared at her one last time. I felt as if I was taking a picture of her with my eyes, and then, walked away and never went back to the hospital or… To her.”

The young nursing student opens her mouth and gasps.

“You… You never saw her again?”

The man shakes his head. His dark eyes find the girl’s and she shivers.

He can see in them everything the man had once been.

“I told myself I was doing it all for her, that I was keeping her safe and happy. I hoped she was happy with her job and life and new apartment. And I stayed out of it… I told myself that during the following four months, and everyday was a battle against myself, not to go to the hospital and see her again, just one last time… But I was just lying to myself,” he scoffs bitterly. “I didn’t do it for her. I did it for myself. Because I was so scared, I was so scared she had done what I had asked her and had moved on, that she hadn’t waited for me. I was so scared she would reject me or tell me that she was better without me. I was so scared that she didn’t even remember me anymore… So I saved myself the pain and disappeared, carried on with life.”

“How could you do that? You loved her.”

The man smiles at the girl’s words.

“I did it precisely because of that.”

“And what did you do? With your life.”

The man shrugs. “Found a decent job, decent apartment. Visited my mom, I bought myself a nice car too. I got married once, unsurprisingly it didn’t go well and divorced. Met some more women after that… But nothing serious. And… Here I am now. A sad, old man who is about to die just as sad and alone.”

“You won’t be alone, Mr. Jeon,” the girl decisively says, nodding her head. “I’ll be here with you.”

For the first time since she knows him, she sees him smile, properly smile. He has a beautiful smile, one that makes him look younger. His bunny front teeth shows, and new crinkles form by the side of his eyes.

“Thank you, young girl,” he smiles.

The girl grabs his hand.

“If there’s something I can do for you, Mr. Jeon… Call a friend, search for someone…”

The man narrows his eyes.

“There is one thing you can do for me.”

The girl nods and lets go of his hand. The man sits on his bed with effort, opening the drawer of his nightstand and grabbing an envelope from it. He hands it to the girl and she holds it delicately.

“It’s for her,” he says with a raspy voice. “She lives near the Central Hospital. Sixth floor, B door.”

She stares at the envelope, your address written on it.

“I was planning on sending it to her since a long time ago… But never did. I think now is the time to start doing things I wanted to do but never did, don’t you think?”

“Do you want me to go to her house and give it to her?”

“Yeah, I’d love it. If you want to, of course, I would never –“

“I’ll do it, Mr. Jeon,” the girl nodded solemnly. “I’ll give it to her.”

. . .

It is a week after Mr. Jeon is gone, that the girl finds the strength to finally keep her promise to him.

On a Tuesday evening, she walks out of the hospital, letter secured in her backpack and follows the address that was written on the envelope of the letter.

She knocks on the B door of the sixth floor of the apartment building near the Central Hospital and waits.

It seems like an eternity, but eventually, the door opens.

It reveals a woman with soft wrinkles starting to cover her face. She radiates something the girl can’t put a name to, but something that makes her understand why Mr. Jeon once fell for her.

“Hello?” she asks, her voice is soft and she smiles at her.

“Hi,” the girl says shyly.

She doesn’t know where to look at, she can’t help but stare at the woman before her, at you. You look just like Mr. Jeon used to describe you, he didn’t leave any detail out.

You raise your brows and the girl laughs.

“Oh, sure,” she smiles, grabbing her backpack from her back and unzipping it. She searches through it, hand coming across the letter finally.

She hands it to you with a smile on her face.

“It’s from an old friend,” she says.

You take the letter from the girl’s hand, frowning a bit.

“From an old friend?”

The girl nods and zips back her backpack, hanging it over her shoulder afterwards. She would love to stay there and see you read Jungkook’s letter, to know what he had written in it and how you would react to it, but she felt it was a moment that belonged to you and Jungkook only.

Smiling at you one last time, the girl walks down the corridor and disappears from your sight.

You’re left there, door still open, with that letter in your hands.

Still frowning, you close the door of your apartment, ushering your cat inside.

In silence, you read the letter.

To Y/N:

This is going to be brief. I hope you don’t throw this away as soon as you see my unmistakable handwriting.

There’s not been a single day when I haven’t missed you. There’s not been a single corner of this world that didn’t remind me of you. Everywhere I went, everywhere I stayed, there you were with me, in my arms (or tripping under my playful foot)

I’ve loved you every single day of my life.

I’ll keep loving you even afterwards.

Jungkook.

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thewidowstanton · 4 years ago

Text

Josie Stone: costumier

Costumier Josie Stone was born in London and lived and worked there most of her life but is now based in Rochester in Kent. She’s been in the business “going back to the Flower Power days of the sixties” in London’s King’s Road, and worked for a lot of up-and-coming pop groups, selling clothes to Tommy Roberts’ Kleptomania in Carnaby Street. She made fashion samples for designers Paddy Campbell and Katherine Cusack, and one Christmas Liberty’s department store had windows showcasing Cusack’s dresses – including one for Diana, Princess of Wales – all of which Josie had made. She also created samples for adverts in the boutique Medusa near Sloane Square.

Later Josie moved into the entertainment industry, making outfits for both the children’s and adults’ Royal Variety Performances, as well as doing TV work for the Des O’Connor Show, the Michael Barrymore Show, the Lesley Garrett and Frank Skinner shows, TFI Friday and for organisations such as Butlins and Bassline Circus. She’s made costumes for shows on cruise ships and for films such as Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again, and has made those for Thursford Christmas Spectacular for many years. Even though Thursford always credits her work, her considerable contribution to the industry has largely gone unrecognised.

She is performer Becky [Rebecca] Burford’s mother, and her son-in-law is stunt man Andrew Burford. The Widow’s Liz Arratoon has always regarded costumes as a vital part of any show and was delighted when Josie agreed to chat about her impressive – and lengthy – career.

The Widow Stanton: Have you always loved clothes and fashion? Josie Stone: It was always in me. I was one of these kids that when my mother and father bought me a sewing machine I made all my dolls’ clothes.

Was this skill in your family background? No, my mum was very good at sewing… very good. But no they didn’t do this. My father was a printer. I learnt a lot at school and a lot from my mum. I didn’t go to college; we had lessons at school for making… millinery classes and also sewing classes.

That’s amazing! We had sewing classes at school but we never learnt anything worthwhile. How did you start out actually working in the industry? I left school and went to a couple of places making shirts but that didn’t last long. Then I met up with this guy who had his workroom above Tesco’s in Victoria. He was very keen to start making… it was like Flower Power days but you couldn’t buy shirts and trousers and things like that for the pop groups. Those sort of things just weren’t around. So I went to work with him. It was a rented flat he lived in and we were all working in there making these things. Then he suddenly got this place down King’s Road in Chelsea called The Potato Shop; on the corner in World’s End. At the time Granny Takes a Trip was just down the road from us, with this American car sticking out the window that appeared to crash through on to the step. It was great! I mean good fun, great fun!

Do you design as well as make? No, I don’t design. I get a drawing and that’s it. It depends on who the designer is… sometimes you get ‘I want that at the bottom, I want the skirt to look like that and the top to look like that’.

Can you remember any of the pop groups you worked for? [Laughs] No! You’re talking a lot of years ago, lots of years ago. It was any group that was starting out in that industry and they had nowhere to buy their things. We would buy Indian bedspreads and make them into kaftans, sailors’ trousers, dyeing them all different colours and altering them, and frilly shirts that would be sold to the antique market at the Sloane Square end of the King’s Road, near the town hall. We had one floor in The Potato Shop and there were crazy carryings on downstairs in the basement. We didn’t really know what it was all about but it was a bit naughty. One night we sneaked back into the place and worked all night so this guy could get his order out.

We always hear about the Swinging Sixties… how much fun was it? Oh, King’s Road was lovely. Beautiful, beautiful. It was a wonderful place to be in the sixties with all the Flower Power, then the punks. It was great fun; it was wonderful fun. It was all unknown to me; it was all new and that was the start of me getting into that type of work. My dad worked just off of Carnaby Street and he got us work from Kleptomania, a big, big place where all the pop groups used to go. We’d be making more kaftans and shirts with frills all down the sides and the centre. There still weren’t many shops around that were selling that type of thing. Tommy Roberts would sell to people like Jimi Hendrix and The Who. It was just fun. [Laughs] I was a single girl having great fun going from one place to the next, really.

After that I worked in a boutique called Medusa. I was downstairs making samples all the time. I didn’t used to do much production. Mainly I’d make a sample up and then if they liked it it would go off to wherever, to a factory or somewhere like that to do production. Medusa was a swinging place, it was in a little alleyway off the King’s Road next to Sainsbury’s. I believe it was called Elystan Place. It was an up-and-coming boutique. That was at the time when Zandra Rhodes was big, and those sort of people. One time we made some samples for Apple Records, the Beatles’ label, but it never came to anything.

What was the best part of your life then? I was young and having fun and it was all the unknown. I lived then in Wandsworth Road with my parents, and these were all Chelsea people and they were different, completely different to the life I’d led, and it was just really way out, anything went. It didn’t matter what you wore, anything went. And I loved my job. I’d work any hours because I loved it. I didn’t always like the places, I’d go from job to job, but I did love my work and I then started having my own workroom. I decided I’d work from home. I worked with a friend from my first mother-in-law’s house and we were still doing the kaftans… a guy used to pull up in this black cab that was all painted with psychedelic patterns. It was at Tulse Hill – they were very quiet there – and the neighbours used to look in absolute amazement at everything going on. But we loved it, my mother-in-law loved it and it was good fun.

So, let’s jump ahead, how did the Liberty’s window display come about? I worked for somebody called Katherine Cusack. That was just when Rebecca was born and I was working from home. I think Katherine advertised in The Stage and she wanted to start doing semi-couture work. I’d make her samples and then she’d have a party and invite all these quite wealthy people to her lounge. It was a beautiful Edwardian house in Grafton Square in Clapham Common. Then she managed to get into Liberty’s and that Christmas the whole front had all the dresses that I’d made.

Which of Lady Di’s dresses did you make? It was a beautiful silk velvet in a beautiful deep blue. It had long sleeves and rouleau loops with little buttons all the way down. I think Di went into Liberty’s and bought it. I believe she was photographed wearing it for The Lady. Katherine was over the moon. But it was real pain to make because silk velvet takes its own route. It’s not the easiest of fabrics to work on because it’s so soft. It is beautiful but it’s not easy to make. You’ve go to have the right feed on your machine otherwise when you’re joining the seams up you’ll lose it and it will be longer one end. Josie! That dress was later auctioned for thousands and thousands! £48,000, I believe.

How did you make the move into showbusiness? I moved into that when Rebecca started at Sylvia Young’s. They used to put on shows all the time because it’s a theatre school and I started making costumes. Then I went on to doing the children’s Royal Variety.

Is that how you got on to the adults’ Royal Variety Performance? I’d got into a workroom at Acton doing samples for someone I met on the children’s Royal Variety. Then I went into my own workroom at Acton and I used to help her out. Various different designers got my name and we took on the work. That’s how we gradually started doing all the shows. She didn’t want to go on the shows so I used to go to the studios or anywhere where the work was and I’d fit the costumes and then come back and we’d finish them, but she stayed in the workroom to do whatever needed to be done there.

Can you tell us about any really nice celebs you worked with? Oh God, who haven’t I met? [Laughs] I worked on the Royal Variety for years with a wonderful designer called Linda Martin. That’s years and years so that’s one helluva lot of people I’ve met. Des O’Connor was sweet. He was lovely, lovely, absolutely charming and so was his wife. We used to do a lunchtime show with him. I did that for a lot of years. Michael Barrymore was also lovely. I was really upset when he went off the scene because he was a nice guy.

Does anyone else stand out? There’s very few that weren’t nice. They were all very nice. No one was horrible. I worked on Michael Barrymore’s show at Wimbledon Theatre and there were so many celebs on it that they had to share dressing rooms. This one particular share was with Warren Mitchell and Chris Eubank. And Warren Mitchell didn’t want to share with Chris Eubank at all. At the time Chris Eubank had this electric scooter that he would go all round the corridors on it. I could understand Warren Mitchell not wanting to share with him because he was a bit wild at this point. He’s the only one I can say wasn’t very pleasant, but I think it was because he was unhappy about sharing because he and Chris were complete opposites.

Do you know how many years you’ve done Thursford for? If we go this time, probably 20 years. The designer I work with there is Stephen Adnitt; he was Cilla’s designer. I worked with Linda Martin for 12 or 13 years doing Thursford. I’d never met Stephen, I knew of him, and he asked me to join his team. The designer gets the job and they’ll have a team and usually they keep that same team all the time. I’ve worked with him for eight years.

How many costumes might be involved in its Christmas show? We have to dress everybody at Thursford, even the orchestra. So you have 56 singers, 23 dancers and almost two full orchestras.

So when would you start to plan something like that? We – I work with Rita Best – would start end of May, beginning of June. Our designs would come in before then. We’d measure people and make the costumes and fit them in September. There are probably eight or nine sets of costumes to make. It’s enormous! Enormous. It’s the biggest show I think in Europe. We’d spend three weeks in Norfolk just making sure that it all works on the set; making sure that sequins don’t come off – I mean it’s covered, absolutely covered in sequins – and we’ll be sitting for hours and hours sticking them on. But again, we love it. We’d see the rehearsals and the preview and the day the show starts we’d come home. Our job was done. When I was working for Linda there, I’d be there working late at night. That didn’t happen so much with Stephen. He’d be like: “We’ve got to finish now.”

You mentioned doing millinery at school so do you do headdresses and that sort of thing? No, I would have liked to have done but for Thursford we have a milliner who comes with us; Shirley Davis, who has also been in the business a very long time.

What advice would you give to someone wanting to follow in your footsteps? Get into a workroom and learn how it goes. Learn how people work because what they learn at college is not how a workroom works. And really to earn any money at it, you’ve got to have a bit of speed on the machine. You can’t hang about. You can’t take a week or two or three weeks to make something. It’s nice if they can get into a workroom and see it first hand. I mean I get my work through various designers that I’ve known over the years or another maker who will ring me up completely out of the blue. Last week I helped someone out on a film. I’ll work on anything that needs a costume. I did Red or Black? at Wembley Arena, a game show developed by Simon Cowell. You could win a £1 million. It was massive. I worked with another designer called Scott Landridge, who did the children’s TV series The Worst Witch, the TV series Mile High and the sitcom Citizen Khan.

Have you had any costume disasters? Not really. [Laughs] I’ve had a lot of late nights or working all night to finish a costume off. You get the occasional broken strap and you have to quickly run down to the stage or on to the set and pin them up, or something doesn’t fit when they arrive. But no major disasters.

Have you been doing anything during the lockdown? Just before the lockdown we had all these shows on cruise ships lined up but that all went. At first I was making scrubs for the hospitals. I did loads of voluntary work for anyone who needed them. Sometimes they gave me the material and sometimes I’d provide it. They were using all kinds of material in the end, even bedspreads. I did that for a while and I also made these little pairs of hearts. They were to send to hospices and hospitals so the patient could have one to hold and the family would have the other one. I made them out of all the material I have here. I also did masks, but I’m not doing so many now.

Do you ever think about retiring? No! [Laughs] I love what I do. But the work will get less and less and that will be it. I mean we’ve had hardly anything this year. We did a few bits for Butlins and a big Dame’s costume, which I don’t think ever got used because that show was cut.

Can you pick out a few career highlights? I loved working on the Royal Variety at the Royal Albert Hall. I loved doing it in there. I did that quite a few times. Beautiful, beautiful. It’s a beautiful building and it’s just lovely to work in. If you look back at all the names that have been on the Royal and I did it for more than twenty years, there are a hell of a lot of names I’ve met. And that was quite fun.

Josie is hoping that Thursford Christmas Spectacular in Thursford, Norfolk will go ahead this year. If so, it will run from 9 November – 23 December 2021 at 2pm and 7pm.

In the meantime she can be contacted on 07956 832261 for commissions.

For Thursford tickets click here

youtube

#josie stone #costumier #kleptomania #tommy roberts #swinging sixties #king's road #granny takes a trip #thursford christmas spectacular #royal variety performance #Becky Burford #andrew burford #diana princess of wales #Katherine Cusack #Scott Landridge #shirley davis #linda martin #rita best #stephen adnitt

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mnthpprt · 5 years ago

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Chapter 13: Guilty Of Caring

The next morning, Sebastian wakes me up with three loud knocks on the door. Annoyed to be suddenly pulled from my slumber, I look out the window. It’s ridiculously early. Thankfully, he brings a tray with coffee and a sandwich when I tell him to come in.

“Rise and shine, Anaïs,” he says cheerfully. Ugh, I hate morning people. I shoot him a groggy glare and rub the sleep from my eyes. “Get dressed and meet me in the garden, by the fountain. I have a job for you.” Upon saying that, he leaves again, and I sit at my desk to eat breakfast.

I knew my offer to help would bite me in the ass. Still, I set myself up for this, so I can’t really complain, and truth be told, I am grateful for something to do other than sit around in the library, which I now know is practically Leonardo’s second bedroom.

After our conversation yesterday, he helped me find the book I was looking for. He seems to know those shelves by heart. I stayed there as I researched and took notes for my paper, while he scribbled on a notebook himself until we were called to have dinner. I went to bed early after that.

I walk up to the fountain, where Sebastian is already waiting for me. He hands me a neatly folded apron, which I put on without question. Above us, Mozart’s playing floats out through the open window of the music room.

“I need you to plant some violets for me. But first, let me show you where everything is.”

I follow him as he guides me around the garden, explaining which plants are kept in each area. As everything Sebastian does, it’s perfectly organized, and much larger than I thought it would be. Under the pale morning sun, we make our way to a greenhouse near the edge of the property. In it, all sorts of tropical plants cover every surface, safe for a small work table in the center. Once he’s showed me where all the tools and supplies are, I turn to him.

“Great, so where do you want me to plant them?” I ask, already eager to get down to business. Even after I started working as a chemist and was no longer employed at the flower shop, I always loved gardening, and kept doing it as much as I could in my small London flat.

“That’s the spirit,” Sebastian chuckles. “Right where we started the tour, by the fountain. Mozart likes looking at them when he’s composing. Now, unless you have any questions, I shall return to my work inside.”

“All clear,” I nod. “See you later.”

Sebastian leaves me, taking a different path back to the mansion, and I gather some supplies and the tray of seedlings he pointed out before in a large basket before making my way to the fountain.

I have my sleeves rolled up and my hands in the dirt when a shadow covers the flower I am in the middle of planting.

“Good morning, Aiko-san,” says Dazai behind me. He bends to look over my shoulder. “Hard at work, I see.”

“Anaïs,” I correct him, but turn to him with a smile. I don’t mind the company. “I offered to help Sebastian, since I’ll be living here for a while. I guess that makes me the new gardener.”

“Mind if I stay here with you? I like to write outside,” he informs me as he gets back up and takes a seat on the edge of the fountain.

“By all means.” I return to my labor in silence, but then I remember something. “Hey, Dazai? What do you write about?” I look up at him and wipe my hands on the apron. “I just realized I don’t really know anything about you, compared to the other residents. Cultural differences, and all.”

“Well...” Dazai starts, and takes a thoughtful glance at a nearby tree. “Before I became a vampire, I used to write about my own life, mostly. Sometimes I just wrote about life in general. I still do, but this is just a poem I can’t seem to finish.”

He is interrupted by Isaac, who wanders out of the mansion looking at the floor and calling the name ‘Harry’. As soon as he sees me, he scurries away. I didn’t even know he was avoiding me.

“What is he doing?” I ask, earning a laugh from Dazai.

“Looking for some apples, probably,” he jokes. I stare at him, unsatisfied with his answer. “He’s trying to find his pet hedgehog. The little thing must have ran off somewhere, though I don’t blame him. Isaac-chan is always so grumpy.”

Was that apple thing about how Isaac discovered gravity? I just roll my eyes with a chuckle and continue planting the violets. Meanwhile, Dazai focuses on his notebook, occasionally looking around, I assume for inspiration. By the time I am done with all the flowers, it’s almost lunchtime. As if he read my mind, Dazai approaches me.

“Wanna take a break? I’m hungry.”

“Yeah, me too.” He extends his hand to help me get up and I take it. I decide to leave all the tools there and come back later to clean up.

We get to the dining room and take a seat at the table. To my surprise, Sebastian has already served some food and a bottle of rouge for Dazai. There is also a third set of plates, along with another bottle. I wonder who it’s for.

My unspoken question is answered when Isaac enters the dining room, only to see me and swiftly turn around to leave the way he came from.

“Isaac, wait!” I call after him, but he gets away too fast. With a resigned sigh, I grab my fork and start eating. Dazai observes me with amusement, but does not voice whatever he’s thinking.

As soon as I finish, I quickly excuse myself to return to the garden. I need to put away the tools before I forget. I carry the full basket to the greenhouse and begin organizing the supplies. As I return a bag of fertilizer to a low cabinet, I see something move out of the corner of my eye.

I search around the corners, but there is nothing out of the ordinary. A sound coming from under a shelf alerts me to the location of whatever animal it was that I saw. I hope it’s not a rat. I lower myself to the ground and look under the shelf, and what I find surprises me.

“Hey there, little guy.” Pressed against the corner, a small hedgehog trembles and struggles to move. “Are you stuck?”

I reach for a pair of thick gloves on the work table, and after putting them on, I return to aid the trapped animal. I reach under the shelf and feel around for him, unable to see what I’m doing. It only takes a few seconds for me to grab him gently and, scared, he moves around in my hand. I successfully pull him from the tight corner and get back on my feet, holding the little beast in my cupped hands. He puffs out his spines. Thankfully, the gloves do their job and protect me from being stung by them.

This must be Harry. I think I should take him to Isaac, seeing as he has been searching everywhere, but the physicist wants nothing to do with me, apparently. Oh well, there’s nothing to lose if I try to speak with him, other than a small portion of my ego.

I knock on Isaac’s door with a gloved hand, and wait for him to open. He takes his time, but when he finally does, his eyes immediately light up.

“Harry! Where have you been, little friend?” he softly exclaims. I hand the hedgehog over to Isaac.

“I found him hiding in the greenhouse. He’s a scaredy one, but I think he likes me now. Don’t you, Harry?” I take off the gloves and stroke him with my finger, earning a happy little chirp. The poor thing was terrified, but I fed him some worms in order to keep him calm.

Suddenly, Isaac seems to notice who he’s talking to. He looks away and quickly thanks me as he tries to close the door, but I wedge my boot in the way before he can shut me out completely.

“Isaac, please. I just want to talk.”

He sighs, fully aware that I am not going anywhere, and steps away from the door to let me in.

“You’re avoiding me,” I state, softly. I walk into the room and close the door behind me. “I just wanted to let you know that you don’t have to.”

“I-I could have killed you...” He sits on the bed and puts Harry down next to him. Meanwhile, his eyes look at anything that isn’t me.

“I know. But you didn’t.” I sit down next to him, and he moves away. That’s okay, these things take time. “I’m sorry. You must have been so hungry... It was my fault that your meal was late. Le Comte explained everything. I can’t imagine what it’s like, but I don’t want you to blame yourself for what happened, Isaac.”

He turns halfway to face me, but his eyes are still on the floor.

“You’re not scared of me?”

I shake my head, a sad smile on my lips. He really made a point to avoid me just so I wouldn’t feel scared.

“How could I be when you’re this sweet?”

He blushes at my words, but doesn’t say anything. The silence is not uncomfortable at all, it just... is. I take this moment to look around the room. All sorts of tools and mechanical trinkets line the shelves on the wall, and a dismantled clock sits on his desk. My face lights up when I spot something in the corner.

“Is that a sewing machine?”

He nods, and I almost decide to leave it at that when he starts talking.

“I found it in the attic and repaired it, but I have no use for it.” That is the most words I’ve ever heard him say.

“Could I... Could I borrow it?” I ask shyly. He shrugs.

“You can keep it. It just takes up space and gathers dust here.” Once again I am surprised by him talking, although his voice is so quiet I would not be able to hear it if I wasn’t sitting right next to him. We’re making progress.

“Thank you, Isaac,” I smile at him, even though he’s not looking at me, and get up to look at the machine, which makes me realize something. “Wait... This is not like the machines I’m used to. I don’t know how to use it.”

“I guess... I could teach you...” Now that was unexpected, in the best way possible. I turn around to face him, my smile returning even bigger.

“You’d really do that?”

“It’s the least I can do,” he simply says. Before I have time to thank him, he gets up and approaches me before pulling the sewing machine to the middle of the room.

“See this latch on the table? You need to open it to pull the bottom thread through the hole and attach it to this bit here next to the wheel,” he explains. He sounds a lot more enthusiastic now. “To make it spin you step on the pedal repeatedly. Then, for the top thread, you have loop it around this bobbin and feed it through the needle, then the pedal and the wheel under the table will do the rest of the work. If it gets jammed, try spinning this wheel up here by hand in the opposite direction and then pull on the thread.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” Without thinking, I throw my arms around Isaac and pull him into a hug. He tenses for a moment and then goes limp. I finally let go when he awkwardly clears his throat, and the moment he is free from my embrace he looks away, a pink tint on his cheeks.

“Sorry,” I mutter, embarrassed. I got too excited. “I’ll stop bothering you now.”

He just nods and watches silently as I drag the large contraption out of the room. I stop in my tracks and turn to face him before he closes the door.

“Isaac? It was nice talking to you,” I tell him. “I hope we can be friends someday.”

#ikemen vampire #ikevam #ikevamp #ikemen #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikevam fanfic #ikevamp fanfiction #ikemen vampire sebastian #ikevamp sebastian #ikemen vampire isaac #ikevamp isaac #ikemen vampire dazai #ikevamp dazai

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ramblingsandwritingstuff · 5 years ago

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I’m starting a series of incorrect quotes written as stories because I’m bored. Starting with this quote I screenshotted from @musical-stan-first-human-later

Kitty sighed, pulling her duvet up until only her face was visible. She didn’t know what time it was, but the noise downstairs told her the other queens were awake. If Cathy was awake that would make it after midday but if she wasn’t then it was somewhere between 10am and midday. A knock on her door forces Kitty to push herself upright and mumble something to allow whoever was outside to enter. She was somewhat relieved when Jane poked her head around the door and asked to come in. Kitty shrugged and whispered “sure”. Jane opened the door fully and entered the room, immediately heading to open the curtains. Kitty pulls the covers over her head as daylight enters the room. She winces as the covers are pulled down and the light hits her eyes. The bed shifts slightly as Jane sits on the edge. “How are you doing?” The question panics Kitty and she mumbles “I’m okay”. Jane looks round her room briefly, taking in the fact that a thin layer of dust is starting to form over most of the room. “No you’re not” she replies. It’s a simple enough statement but it’s enough to break Kitty. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she starts to sob. “No, I’m not”. Jane shifts her position and opens her arms up for Kitty to climb in. But unlike normal, Kitty refuses to budge. “What’s the matter Kitty Kat?” Jane asks, trying to hide how worried she is. Kitty shrugs and wipes the tears off her face. Jane gets off the bed and carefully manoeuvres herself so Kitty is sat in her lap. “I just feel so useless. You’ve all adapted so well to this situation and then there’s me. Like Cathy hasn’t stopped writing since she got that laptop. And Anne has been so quiet since she got that sketch book. And I don't know what Anna does when she leaves the house but she clearly enjoys it for some reason. Everyone is getting to live like they wanted to last time. But I don’t know what I enjoy. I was so used to being mistreated that it felt normal and now I know it’s not, I’ve realised that I don’t have a hobby or a talent. I just exist to be used, abused and then thrown out when I’m no use” Kitty blurts out, not looking up once. Jane runs her hands through Kitty’s hair and smiles, albeit a sad smile. “First of all, I think what Anna does is called exercise although I don’t see the appeal in it either” Kitty giggles at this. “Secondly, why didn’t you just say something? I know it probably seems like we all have it together but I’m pretty sure I heard Anne swearing at her pencil last night and Catie told me Cathy is talking to her laptop like it’s a person”

This statement gets a proper laugh out of Kitty and Jane smiles at the sound. “None of us are really sure what we’re doing right now and if I’m being honest, I’m more than a little upset that my sewing is basically useless now there’s that machine downstairs. Anna says it’s amazing but I’m terrified of it” Kitty perks up a little at this and cautiously whispers “I can teach you how to use it if you like. You don’t have to stop hand sewing but if it’s a big job it would be easier to use the machine instead”. Jane smiles and replies “as much as I hate to admit it, you’re right. And I’m sure you’re a better teacher than the other queens”. Kitty giggles as she recalls Anne trying to teach Jane how to use the washing machine. “And Kitty, you’re worth so much more than what those men did to you. Someone should’ve stopped that happening” Jane continues, pausing when Kitty tenses up slightly.

“He said he’d teach me to read Latin if I did what he said. There wasn’t much teaching going on when I was young and once I could read and write in English they stopped altogether. But I still wanted to learn and he promised me he’d teach me” Kitty starts to cry again as the memories come flooding back. Jane rubs her back and whispers “hey you’re okay little one. You’re safe now I promise” Kitty begins to calm down slowly and Jane simply repeats these actions until she feels Kitty relax. “If you still want to learn Latin, or any language actually, I know a way you can do it” Kitty perks up at hearing this and starts to wipe her tears away. “You have your phone in here somewhere don’t you?” Jane enquires and smiles when Kitty reaches over to her bedside table and grabs her phone, handing it to Jane as she adjusts the covers so she doesn’t get tangled. Jane takes the phone and slowly goes about downloading a couple of different apps onto it. She hums quietly as she does so and Kitty smiles, knowing Jane hums when she’s concentrating.

After a couple of minutes of this, Jane hands Kitty her phone back. “You’ll need to make an account but it shouldn’t take you long considering even I managed it. I’m not sure what languages are on there but if you can’t find Latin I’m sure you can find something else on there” Kitty looks up at Jane and smiles. “Accounts have been made and I’m already thinking of ways to annoy Anne, Anna and Catie” Jane pretends to shiver and hesitantly questions “do I want to know what you’re planning?” Kitty laughs and shakes her head. “The less you know, the better off you are. Unless you want to help?” she finishes, looking at Jane with curiosity on her face. “I um- I don’t- I can’t-“ Jane stutters as she tries to find the right words. “I didn’t mean anything by that Jane, please don’t hate me” Kitty starts, beginning to panic. “Sh sh sh I could never hate you Kitty. It’s just- well I can’t read or write very well in English, let alone learning another language. I’ve been using those apps to try and improve but it’s so confusing.” Kitty looks up at Jane and smiles “I can teach you if you like. And I’ll help you with the sewing machine too”. Jane looks at her, confused. “Why would you want to help me Kitty? I’m bound to mess it up and get annoyed with it” Jane asks, genuinely curious. “Well um- I was wondering if you could maybe teach me to sew? I have basic knowledge but you’re really good and my dad used to tell me that my mother should’ve taught me but she died when I was five so I never really learned properly”. Jane almost started to cry when she heard this. Having died before Katherine had caught Henry’s attention, she knew very little about her and it was only recently that they’d learned of the abuse she suffered. Anne still couldn’t bear to hear it mentioned because it upset her so much. “Of course I can” Jane manages to respond before Kitty wraps her in a hug.

By the time Kitty lets go, Jane is barely able to breathe but she still manages to smile and tell Kitty to get dressed and come downstairs so they can explain everything to the other queens. Kitty agrees after making Jane promise not to tell the others that she’s going to learn a new language or two. Jane agrees and leaves Kitty to get changed. Half an hour after Jane leaves, Kitty is ready to go downstairs and face the other queens.

#incorrect quotes #incorrect six the musical quotes #jane seymour #katherine howard #six queens #queendom #im okay #no youre not

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cristalknife · 4 years ago

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Kadam Week 2021 Day 2 ~ You pop on that song one more time...

So this is me trying to not start something on a platform only to post solely somewhere else aka AO3 and ff.net you can find the complete list of Kadam Week 2021 prompts and you might find more stories on the Kadam Week 2021 AO3 collection

Hopefully, I'll figure out how to format in here to make it readable (please don't hold your breath on my behalf)

That said the second prompt is Differing Tastes.

I ended up with a confrontation between Adam and Kurt, with both ending up involuntarily hurting each other, though they do solve it by the end... (if you've not noticed yet the title offers a little light on the tone of the fic, it's inspired by the song Cell Block Tango from the musical Chicago

So here we go, I present to you

You pop on that song one more time... (or read on ao3)

Adam had never been a confrontational guy, in fact he had always tried to stay as far away from conflicts as possible.

If something was not of his liking, or too much, he mastered the art of quietly walk away and not let things bother him too much.

All in all he had always thought of himself as a rather patient and quite zen person. That was until he had to reconsider all he knew about himself.

What he had always seen as perfectly strategical retreats, now that the option was no longer available, started to look more like avoidance...

Which all in all it wasn't something that bad per se... It was more the frustration of not really having other choices left.

Point was, even when they started living together, Kurt and he didn't have that much overlapping free time. Their schedules had always been slightly out of sync, giving both of them plenty of time to keep up the habits they had when they were living alone.

Adam himself had been more often than not out the house, between his two jobs and auditions. And Kurt had school and his job at Vogue, where he had gotten full employee status, with the much needed raise that allowed him to stop working at the diner constantly.

All things considered it was not so surprising that for the almost ten months they had lived together the issue hadn't come up before.

The problem was that with Adam landing a role, neither had expected just how much of his time would be freed, time he was going to need to work on his own.

Any other day he could have just walked out and stayed at the theatre. Which he did in the past, and on some days he preferred that choice, because then he could work out not only on the memorising but also on his cues, or getting more comfortable with the acoustic.

The problem however was that for the next couple of weeks the theatre was going to be the domain of the technical team, transforming the bare stage into the brand new world Adam and the rest of the cast would move around.

It wasn't even the fact that the music was a disturbance on itself, even if he was starting to wish for some quiet, as more and more he found himself distracted listening in rather than concentrating on his own work.

Adam used to think that he was pretty good at tuning down the distractions, and maybe if it hadn’t been just that single song being played on an infinite repetitive loop, maybe then he could have managed.

Though something deep down in his mind was quickly starting to believe that wouldn't be the case, no matter how much Adam wished for it.

No, what he found as the most distracting factor was that Kurt sang and hummed along with the song.

And not even always on the same point, so there was this infinite repeat of the base song peppered up with snippets of Kurt's voice, that sounded like he was trying to memorise it through repetition.

It wasn’t that he didn't love listening to his boyfriend's voice, on the contrary, he adored hearing Kurt sing.

But in that moment he had work to do, and it was more a matter that his frustration was mounting and he couldn't even leave the house.

Well, technically he could, but he had no access to other places where to go and try out lines that were inside, and with the rain pouring outside, other than make it a very cold and damp day to attempt to stay in a park, it was just an invitation to get sick going out in such weather for no good unavoidable reason.

Checking the clock once more Adam saw it was hastily approaching the third hour straight, and what by now Adam was sure it was past the fiftieth time the song played.

Yet Kurt was giving no signs of being done anytime soon.

Adam on the other hand was past done.

He walked to what was their studio slash sewing room, where Kurt was currently residing and knocked three times, without an answer.

Going against every notion of politeness he had been raised with, he opened the door, made a beeline to the stereo and turned it off without saying a single word.

Kurt looked up surprised and asked quite shocked "What?"

Adam tensed up, the moment of silence had been a blessing that got interrupted too soon.

He found himself almost shaking as he hissed between his clenched teeth "If you pop on that song one more time, I'll end up doing something we'd both regret. So please, stop it."

In a way, knowing at least some of the ‘friends’ that Kurt used to have, should have prepared Adam that any disagreement between them would have needed to be handled with probably more care or at least a cleared head than he did.

In his defence though, Adam really thought that Kurt wouldn't have had the habit to keep a single song in a repeat loop for literally hours. Not when his repertoire was so vast and diverse.

A single look at Kurt was all it took for Adam to see how clearly pissed off his boyfriend was when he replied "The heck are you talking about? I haven't done anything out of the ordinary."

Adam released a frustrated breath "It's been hours, literally three damn hours of that song playing in constant repeat loop and you randomly singing along with it"

Kurt passed in a flash from mad to briefly hurt before assuming a defensive stance Adam recognised all too well…

After all, he had been there, around Kurt's supposed friends enough times to see it appearing.

He had also always been there to pick up all the pieces afterwards.

Having his boyfriend react that way with him, in their home, hurt, badly.

And he knew, right there and then, that they were both handling this situation badly. So he kept his lips pressed into a thin line, refraining from saying anything until he had allowed Kurt to say his piece of mind.

"I didn't know my voice would be so annoying to you, could have fooled me… Fine, I'll shut up, now could you please go? I'd rather not fight anymore and I need to be alone now, don’t worry you won’t hear another peep from me."

Any other moment Adam would have been more than willing to allow Kurt the space he needed.

However, on this particular occasion, leaving was exactly the worst thing he could do, because either Kurt had not understood what he meant, or Adam himself had not been clear enough, leaving half of his thoughts in his mind. Either options were equally possible.

Kurt was standing in front of his sewing machine, rigid as a statue, his defences up.

Adam moved from the stereo to the door, grateful for the first time that it opened toward the inside of the room.

Once he was standing in front of the door, he turned and leaned on it, keeping his hands behind his back resting on them. Adam took a deep breath forcing his own tense body to relax.

Looking up at Kurt, who now had his lips pressed and his arm crossed defensively at his chest, Adam let out another soft sigh and licked his lips "Kurt it's not your voice, if anything that was the only delightful part of that torture."

Kurt snorted immovable "That's not what I've heard you saying"

Adam offered a small scoff "Love what I've said and what you've heard are two different things. And no I cannot get out of here letting you think what you heard is correct. Not when it's miles and miles away from what I was saying, or at least what I was trying to say."

And for the first time, looking at the doubts crossing Kurt's face was a sight Adam never knew he would come to rejoice in seeing.

Kurt slowly unclenched his arms and took a small step toward Adam, just enough to step behind the chair he had been sitting before, his hands holding on its back.

While both Kurt's and Adam's own position were not exactly mirroring each other, their stance was open enough that it gave Adam some hope, even more when Kurt finally asked concisely "Then what were you trying to say?"

Adam could see the refrain it took Kurt to not launching another attack, after all Adam had seen ‘friendly sharing of opinions’ that in his view of the world looked and sounded more like full blown fights.

At least he was being given the benefit of the doubt, and not considered directly hostile anymore. It was progress…

Adam pondered on how to answer that without raising again all of Kurt's defences.

"I never expected how landing a role would allow me to be more at home than I had before. Nor how much more of our time at home, would be time during which we both have things we need to do."

Kurt nodded with a small frown, one that Adam couldn't really fault him. This far Adam had tried to not be invasive and allowed his boyfriend to keep going on as usual, and that was all on Adam himself.

"I know now this is on me, I didn't want to be a bother and disrupt what must have been solid habits for you. If that was what you needed for school, I certainly didn't want to risk messing that up for you. What I had not considered, was that the way I've dealt with it, might not be always possible..."

He saw the moment when his words started to sink in and Kurt’s frown deepened, his lips parting surprised "Wait, you mean the past few weeks you went to the theatre even if you didn't have to?"

Adam looked down, feeling a little ashamed, said it like that, it sounded more like he was avoiding to be with his boyfriend, while in his intention it was more like letting Kurt keeping his safe space to study.

He nodded while adding softly "That was the final result yes, but not because I didn't want to be with you, I just didn't want to disturb you"

Looking up he was surprised that Kurt took few steps toward him, releasing and leaving behind the chair he was holding on "And you kept trying to do that even when I was the one disturbing you while you were trying to prepare for work..."

Adam bit his lower lip, then looked into Kurt's eyes saying sincerely "I wasn't disturbed by your voice."

Kurt took an almost exasperated look and huffed out a breath, that still managed to sound fond, "Ok, it was not my voice that disturbed you, but clearly we wouldn't be here if everything was fine, so what was wrong? The song? The volume? Me singing on top of the song only in certain points?"

Adam offered a small smile in return "The fact that you played that one single song in a loop. I didn't expect that from you, and it's not a bad thing per se. But I find it too distracting, because it registers into my mind as an attempt to master it, which then means I need to listen to it to find out where is the thing that sounds wrong so it could be fixed..."

Kurt closed the remaining distance between them standing right in front of Adam "And your natural inclination of wanting to help first everyone else but yourself worked against you, because then you were focusing on it and not on what you needed to do. The situation had probably not been helped by the fact that it went on for further than the two consecutive hours vocal sessions are suggested to last, at their longest. It must have driven you up the wall…"

Adam nodded, the last bit of tension finally starting to leave his frame

"I guess it did a little, yeah, and then I didn't know how to come in here and ask, so I simply kept waiting and hoping you'd be done soon."

Kurt hummed softly, his body as well more relaxed than it was since the moment Adam had walked inside the room "And when I didn't you came in. And here we are."

Adam gave a short nod but quipped "On my defence, I did knock before coming in, three times and you didn't answer"

Kurt shook his head with a fond smile on his face "You don't have to knock in our home luv, I had the door closed hoping the noise I was bound to make wouldn't be too much, I didn’t want to disturb you while you were working for your role. Usually when I'm home alone I leave the door open"

Adam was surprised by this new piece of information. "I didn't notice that"

Kurt nodded and smiled softly "That's because usually I try to be done before you return home, or at least to have reached a point where it's fine to stop at a moment notice so that when I hear the keys on the door I can set everything aside. I just wanted to make sure that we could have time together, especially when our schedules kept us apart."

Adam nodded and stepped away from the door to stand right in front of Kurt "Would it be ok with you to use the headphones if you have to keep a song in a repeat loop?"

Kurt raised a hand to caress Adam's cheek "Are you sure that me randomly singing snipped of the same song until I'm done wouldn't be just as disturbing?"

Adam turned his head and placed a kiss on the palm of Kurt's hand answering honestly "No, I am not sure, I don't know if I'd end up being just as distracted or frustrated in that scenario. I am just assuming, that I wouldn't register it in such a much different way than rehearsing with other actors on stage, while we each work on different pieces. If I'm mistaken can I come and say something then?"

Kurt rested his forehead against Adam's and nuzzled the tip of their noses together "You can come and talk to me anytime. Next time please come talk to me before you feel this way."

Kurt then closed his eyes taking a ragged breath before letting the words coming out as raw as the thoughts that generated them were " I - I'm not good with confrontations. I know I take things too personally. And I know, I do know you are not like them. It's just, at times it’s so difficult to remember that. And I never seen you so short tempered before. Not that I want you to be cross with me, but don't let me push you so hard and so past your lines in the sands that I lose you, I don't think I could stand that"

Adam raised his hands to cradle Kurt's face in them and pressed a small loving kiss on Kurt's lips before closing his own eyes. Without moving he said softly "I am not going to walk away from you without a fight. But I prefer avoid confrontation myself, so please still check from time to time? Let us give the chance to learn how to push and pull just enough that neither of us reaches the point of feeling it's too much to bear"

Kurt nodded and then with a smile he placed a small kiss on the tip of Adam’s nose before booping it gently “Now I am going to find myself a pair of headphones to take in here and then start on preparing lunch, while you get back to work until the food is ready and we take a break before getting back to work. How does that sound?”

Adam smiled and tilted his head up so he could leave a kiss on the finger still resting on his nose “I love that plan.”

~The End~

#kadam week 2021 #kadam fic #kadam #glee #glee prompts filling #my kadam fic #my glee fic #long post #it's a fic what did you expect #my writing is not suited for tumblr #~2.7K words story #I tried my best formatting it #kadam glee #confrontation #vcg73

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 5 years ago

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Playing With Fire ~ Part 2

Pairings: Michael Gray x Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: Talk of abortion

Author’s Note: I know I posted this really soon after posting part 1 but I am just excited to get this story going! Also, yes, I did steal a part of this from an actual episode (Season 3, Episode 5). I’m not claiming to own that part at all. I just used it because it was a good canonical response to the situation by the characters but everything else is mine!

__________________________________________________

This couldn’t be happening. There was no way that this was actually happening. The whole scene kept playing in slow motion in your head and you felt as if you were frozen in time. “You are pregnant, Miss. L/N. About two months along as far as I can tell.”

The room felt freezing and then you weren’t sure if you could feel the temperature anymore. Your heart dropped and all you could see was your mom’s shocked and disappointed face. She was here with her unwed pregnant daughter who was impregnated by a key member of the most notorious gang in Birmingham. You couldn’t tell if you felt numb or not. It was an intense fear and shock that completely disassociated you from the real world.

“There are other options if this isn’t an ideal situation for you.” The doctor said carefully.

You looked up at her quickly, “No, um, can I think about it?” You asked, your brain still too fuzzy to make a decision like that.

“Of course. Take all the time you need and come back when you’ve made a decision.” She explained, leaving the room.

The walk back was full of silence. Nobody uttered a word until you returned to the shop when you couldn’t stand it anymore, “I’m so sorry mom.” Was all you could manage.

She sighed, “Y/N, I just… I don’t know what to say.” It was quiet again. She was disappointed and it was clear. “It’s all going to be okay, though, sweetheart. You just need to talk to Michael.”

Oh gosh, Michael. You almost forgot about having to tell him. How would you tell him? Would he leave? Would he demand you get an abortion? Would he be angry? Would he, by some crazy miracle, actually be excited? Probably not.

You couldn’t focus on the work that you were supposed to be doing. You sat at your sewing machine, blankly staring at the metal contraption, lost in thought.

There was a human inside of you. You were growing a child. No matter how many times you said it or thought it, it never felt real.

Suddenly, the bell rang, grabbing your attention. You glanced up and your heart dropped. In walked Arthur, John, Finn, Isaiah, and Michael, looking as intimidating as possible because that was just their natural state when in public. Immediately, your eyes found Michael’s and he sent you a small smile.

“I’m ‘ere to pick up me coat.” John announced, leaning on the counter.

You stood up, walking in the back to grab his coat, making eye contact with your mom on the way. She nodded her head slightly, indicating that you needed to talk to Michael. You returned with the coat handing it over to John. The Blinders never had to pay. They never threatened your business but they weren’t charged for services in return for protection and insurance.

“Here you go.” You said, handing over the jacket.

“G’morning love.” Michael said, stepping up.

Arthur and John snickered in the back, “Awe little Michael’s all mushy for his girl.”

“Shut it!” Michael snapped, returning his attention to you. “I was wondering if maybe you wanted to get dinner tonight? It’s been a while since we talked.”

He wasn’t wrong. He came in when he could or you would visit Shelby Limited when you had time but he had become really busy with Blinder business that he wouldn’t tell you about and now you hardly ever saw each other for longer than twenty minutes at a time.

I guess this was the universe telling you tonight was the night to tell him, “Yeah, that sounds great. I’ve missed you.” You told him, trying to pretend like nothing was wrong but Michael could see it in your eyes that something was bothering you.

The group of men started leaving the building so with a nod and a smile Michael followed, “I’ll see ye later tonight then.”

The day sped by and now you sat across the table from Michael, both of you looked pretty nice and dressed up. “Can I get you anything to drink?” The waiter asked politely.

“Two whiskeys please.” Micheal ordered for the two of you.

“Actually, can I just have a water please?” You corrected. The waiter nodded and said he’d return shortly.

Michael looked at you strangely, “No whiskey? Are you feeling alright?” He teased, finicking with his napkin on the table.

You forced a smile, “Yeah, I’m feeling fine. Water just sounds good.” Keeping this secret was killing you. He literally had a child on the way and had no idea! “So what is it you wanted to talk about?” You asked, hoping to stall for as long as possible. You at least wanted things to end on a good night.

Michael looked uncomfortable, “I know that I promised you that I was only involved in the legal aspects of Shelby Limited but something has changed. Tommy needs help with something on the… less legal side of the business and I have to take the job.”

Oh. “Is it dangerous?” You asked, unsure of how to really take this news.

After a moment, he shrugged, “There’s always the possibility of things going wrong. But I promise that you’re going to be safe.”

Woah, woah, woah. It may have been ridiculous but it had never really occurred to you that you’d be in any danger because of his work. He wasn’t doing anything illegal after all. He wasn’t involved with the dangerous people Tommy was involved with. Now you were realizing how naive that assumption was.

Wait, what did this mean for the safety of your child? Maybe if you told him he would be able to get out of whatever the job was.

“I have something I need to tell you too.” You blurted.

Michael looked nervous, “What is it?”

It was now or never, “I’m pregnant.” You couldn’t breathe and clearly Michael couldn’t either. He sat there staring blankly.

“What?” He paused, thinking, “Is it mine?”

“Yes it’s yours! You’re the only person I’ve ever been with!” You exclaimed, slightly offended that he would even consider the fact that it wasn’t his.

“How long have you known?” He asked, color drained from his face.

You found it hard to make eye contact, “I just found out this morning. Doctor said I was two months along.”

Michael ran his hands over his face and through his hair, “Fuck.” Was all he said. After a long pause, he asked, “Are you going to keep it?”

Your heart dropped. This was it. He was going to leave you. But you’d already made up your mind. “Yes. I’m keeping the baby.” Again, silence. That deafening silence that tore your soul to bits. “Please say something Michael.” It took everything to keep your voice from breaking.

He lifted his face from his hands and shook his head, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Are you leaving?” You couldn’t help but ask but you wished you hadn’t just blurted it out like that.

His eyes shot up to yours, “No! No. We’ll just have to figure this out. I just… shit.”

You might have been irritated at him if it weren’t for the fact that you were still in shock too. “Yeah, shit.” You huffed.

The waiter returned, interrupting the tense silence, setting your glasses down, “I’ll be back in a moment to take your orders.” He said politely before leaving.

Michael grabbed his whiskey and downed it in one shot and you flinched for him, knowing that that much of the liquid must’ve burned like hell. You, on the other hand, could only sip your water, eyes finding the flickering candle on the table much more bearable to look at than anywhere else in the room.

Michael watched your face as you sipped your water, knowingly avoiding his gaze. You looked stoic and almost emotionless but he could see the fear behind your eyes. Those same beautiful E/C eyes he fell for months ago, even before your first night together.

He reached across the table, gently holding your hand, your skin soft against his. You looked back at him, waiting for whatever he was about to say. You braced yourself for the inevitable I’m sorry but I can’t do this that was sure to come.

“It’s goin’ to be alright, Y/N. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.” He assured. You swallowed the lump in your throat away, nodding, and trying to hold back the tears.

Obviously, you hadn’t expected him to be jumping up and down in excitement at the news - and he definitely handled it better than you’d expected - but the intense stress of the whole situation finally chipped away and you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold back the tears. Stupid hormones.

________________

Michael leaned against the kitchen counter of Tommy’s home, speaking with John, Arthur, and Johnny Dogs. “Look, mate, you got two options. Fuck off to America with Arthur to live with the Apaches or marry the girl.” John explained.

“This isn’t a joke!” Michael couldn’t figure out why John couldn’t take the situation seriously. You were literally pregnant with his child. He had a child now!

Arthur puffed on his cigar, “Now you’re sure the kid’s yours?”

Michael sighed, “I wish I hadn’t told ya.”

“Think of marriage like a beautiful road with flowers all the way down it.” Arthur seemed to be lost somewhere.

“Is he joking?” Why the hell did Michael even bother to come to these blokes about it? John had five, going on six kids, and an angry cocaine addicted wife while Arthur had become domesticated by some Christian girl carrying his kin that was trying to break his drinking habits. Clearly, they weren’t prime examples.

“It’s hard to tell these days.” John shrugged. Michael walked over to pour himself a drink, needing to feel something other than stress.

“Do you love the woman?” Arthur asked.

“Fucking what?” Michael leaned towards Arthur. In all honesty, he hadn’t thought of it but at the moment the question just seemed irritating and unhelpful.

Arthur didn’t care, despite Michael’s tone, “Then you gotta marry her like the rest of us.”

Marriage. The thought had been whirling in Michael’s head since last night when you told him. That was what he supposed to do, right? You guys were supposed to go get married and start a little family now so you’d be right in the eyes of God. Aside from the thought popping into his head, he hadn’t made any decision on whether or not he’d propose the idea. All he knew was that he was going to be there for you in some way, whether it be helping you raise the child or sending you money.

“I want to be apart of the child’s life. I’m not going to just leave her.” He announced, “I just… I don’t know about marriage right now.”

“Tommy’s gonna make you marry the girl when he finds out.” Johnny added from the counter over his glass of rum.

Shit, he was right. Tommy was going to kill him. And forget Tommy, Polly would have his head!

Suddenly, a bell rang from the other room, signalling Tommy requesting the men to join him in the other room to discuss business. Baby business would have to wait.

_____________________

Back home, you set the table quietly, thankful your father went to work early so you and your mother would have time to talk. “Did you tell him?” Your mom asked.

“Yes.” You answered quietly.

“And I’m assuming he’s going to marry you like an honorable man?” She continued, setting a plate of food on the table and sitting down.

You sighed, joining her, “I don’t know mom. We didn’t talk about marriage and quite frankly I don’t know if I want to be married, especially to a Blinder. It’s not the best place to raise a child. But he said he wasn’t going to leave me so… there’s that.”

“Of course, it’s not safe to raise a kid in the Blinders! When I joked with you about grandbabies that night I didn’t mean go get yourself knocked up then and there by a fuckin’ Peaky Blinder!” You mom shouted. You froze. You knew from the beginning she wasn’t happy about the situation but this was the first time she actually spoke this bluntly about it. She took your stunned silence as a chance to speak again, her voice calm this time, “You’re keeping the child?” She asked, already knowing the answer. You nodded. “Then have the child and move to America or somewhere far from here. Goodness knows that boy will only bring your trouble.”

You shook your head, “He deserves a chance to be a part of the baby’s life.”

“Well then you better hope to God he goes with you.” She stood, rinsing her dish without a word and heading downstairs to the shop.

You sat there in silence for a moment before slamming your hand on the table with a loud smack and allowing your head to fall into your hands, crying for the first time since you’d found out. This was nothing but yours and Michael’s faults and you knew that. Neither of you were dumb enough to not know how babies were made but it was one of those things that you didn’t think would actually happen.

What were you going to do? You couldn’t up and leave to America but your mom was right. Being involved with the Blinders was dangerous work but Michael had promised that you would be safe before he even knew about the baby. With the boys looking out for you and Michael trying to keep you out of everything, maybe your child would be safe.

Suddenly, the phone rang and you jumped up to grab it, “Hello?”

“Y/N?” Michael’s voice asked over the phone.

You sniffled, wiping your nose on the back of your hand, “Hi, Michael.” You tried making your voice sound as if you hadn’t just been crying.

“Can we meet? I need to talk to you. It’s about that thing.” His voice dropped low and you wondered if Polly was in the room.

You leaned against the wall, “I can come over to the shop around noon?”

“Alright,” he whispered, “Come ‘round the back when you get here.”

Noon came quickly and you found yourself waiting at the backdoor of the betting shop you’d become quite familiar with. The door opened to reveal Michael who stepped out of your way so you could step in and he led you to his office, closing the door behind you. You took off your coat and he seemed unable to move his eyes from your stomach despite the fact that you weren’t showing yet. Just the idea that his child was in there right now overwhelmed his thoughts.

He shook out of it, though, and leaned against his desk, turning to you, “We should get married.” You were shocked to say the least. Even though it had been a thought in your mind too, you didn’t expect him to say it so outright.

“Michael, we don’t ha-”

“No,” He cut, “It’s the right thing to do. And that way I can take care of you and the baby from here. We’ll get a house together out in the suburbs and everything will work out. I thought it all out, Y/N.” Michael looked like he really had thought the whole thing out.

A thought had occurred to you earlier though at the shop, “Michael wait,” You stopped him, “I haven’t told anybody yet except my mom. And honestly, a lot can happen in the first few months. I don’t want you to marry me because you feel obligated to, especially if we lose the baby. If we get married, I want it to be because you love me.”

“I do love you.” He admitted. Both of your eyes widened and he looked just as shocked that he said it as you were.

“What?” You asked, completely taken aback.

He looked unsure of himself for a moment but confidence overtook his features, “I love you,” He repeated, “We can wait until we know for sure the baby’s going to make it but I do love you.”

You weren’t even sure what to say. Does this mean you were getting married? “Okay.” You said, almost laughing. It was the only thing you felt like you could do. “I guess we’re possibly getting married.”

Michael stepped towards you, closing the gap between you. His lips carefully brushed against yours and his large hands came to rest on your waist, pulling you closer. When his lips left yours, he rested his forehead on yours and glanced down between your bodies, hands moving to your stomach. “That’s our baby.” He whispered in disbelief.

Your heart swelled with a mixture of fear, excitement, and love. Your hands ran up his firm biceps to his shoulders as you spoke, “Yeah, Michael. That’s our baby.”

The two of you stood there like that for a moment in silence, breathing each other in and letting the situation finally settle in. You felt so secure in his arms, so safe. Being with him, this almost felt like it was supposed to happen and you were almost glad everything was happening. Michael made you feel things that you’d never felt before and it made you want to spend every second of every day with him and then soon with your child as well.

“I love you too.” You whispered, moving your hand to his neck and pulling yourself against him, his arms coming around you to wrap around you like they would protect you from any harm in this world and, if Michael had it his way, they would.

#michael shelby #michael gray #michael gray imagine #michael gray smut #michael shelby smut #michael gray x pregnant!reader #dad!michael gray #dad!michael shelby #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinders #peaky blinders smut #playing with fire

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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Where in Fiction Would You Spend Christmas?

https://ift.tt/34FuLCB

It’s been a staying-in kind of year. That New Year’s Resolution you made to travel more? It’s gained 20 pounds, started cutting its own hair and is now in a jigsaw club with your neighbour Ken. The only marathon you’ve completed in 2020 is a Battlestar Galactica rewatch. The only mountain you’ve climbed is the metaphorical one it takes to shower daily. That beach trip you’d planned? It went okay actually. You made some bells by selling coconuts to Nook’s Cranny and dug up a bunch of Manila Clams with a flimsy shovel.

For obvious reasons, escape is on our minds this year more than most. So we started thinking, if you had your wishing socks on, where in the collected imaginations of everyone who’s ever dreamt up a film, TV show, game or book, would you spend the holidays? On the holodeck of the Starship Enterprise or roasting on an open fire with The Simpsons, exchanging gifts with Ewoks or witnessing Scrooge McDuck’s transformation from miser to philanthropist first hand?

To get things started, here’s what our writers picked…

Alec Bojalad would spend Christmas … reveling with the Sterling Cooper staff on Mad Men

If I’m to indulge this hypothetical in which I’m torn away from one reality and thrust into another, one thing is very clear: I will have to be extremely intoxicated to avoid my heart exploding from the stressful terror of it all. Thankfully, I know exactly where in pop culture to go to get absolutely blitzed: Mad Men. In terms of sheer debauchery, a Sterling Cooper Christmas party probably falls somewhere between a Bacchanalian orgy and Valhalla itself. As Don, Roger, Bert, Peggy, and company gather together to celebrate another successful year schmoozing clients and sexually harassing one another, I will don my finest 1960s attire and infiltrate the festive event.

As Don Draper wonders who this soft-bodied weirdo in an ill-fitting suit is, I’ll catch up with Harry Crane about television. Then I’ll ask to see Bert Cooper’s weird tentacle porn painting. Sometime around my 9th J&B Whisky on the rocks I’ll visit the secretarial pool and beg them to demand better treatment because “you’ree ssssooo strong and eleganttt. Don’t listen to thessseee men. They’re Mad Men.” Hopefully I’ll be taken away to an old-timey hospital at that point, given electroshock treatment, and return back to my own continuity.

Ryan Britt would spend Christmas… at Deanna and Will’s cabin from Star Trek: Picard

When Jean-Luc Picard uses the spatial projector to zap himself and Soji across the galaxy to the planet Nepethene, the result is a cozy pizza dinner with Will Riker, Deanna Troi and their daughter Kestra. For those who had been pining for more ‘90s nostalgia in this Trek series, the episode ‘Nepthene’ delivered, but with a strong shot of realism. Although Picard was written and created before the Covid-19 pandemic, the idea that Riker and Troi would leave the busy and crowded life of Starfleet, and retire in a remote cabin to protect their family is a choice many have actually faced in 2020. As people around the world have fled pandemic epicenters and tried to put shields around their own families, the peaceful and remote home of the Riker-Trois represents the optimistic ideal of Star Trek with a quiet, and very close-to-home twist.

Spending time with the Riker-Troi family would mean great conversation, great music (oh the jazz!) and, above all, great food. I would happily put my own family in their ‘pod’ if only so Kestra could teach my three-year-old daughter the best way to construct a bow and arrow, and of course, how to learn that secret language of butterflies.

Then, after the kids were in bed, having a glass of wine or some Romulan whiskey with Will out on the porch sounds pretty damn perfect. 2020 has been tough. A bear hug from Riker seems like the perfect Christmas gift of all.

Caroline Preece would spend Christmas… at The Muppet Christmas Carol’s Penguin Skating Party

Ever since young-me set eyes on the ultra-festive world of The Muppet Christmas Carol I’ve wanted to visit. I can’t imagine a better way to spend Christmas Eve than in the cuddly version of Dickens’ cautionary tale, helping Kermit and his co-workers tidy up Scrooge’s office for the holidays, dancing down the snowy London streets and attending the Penguins’ annual Christmas skating party as the ultimate topper to a perfect evening.

As well as being super-merry and joyous (‘tis the season), judging by Kermit’s performance on the ice, they let anyone take part.

It could just be the general lack of socialising and festive frivolity in 2020, but Bob Cratchit’s hopeful walk home from the office (remember the office?!?) on the night before Christmas has always epitomised the idea that the anticipation of Christmas Day is the best part. Add to that a trip to the market to pick up some singing vegetables, or the cosy Cratchit dinner with Miss Piggy and their gaggle of pig and frog offspring, and it’s a version of old-timey festive cheer that will always hold a place in my heart.

Louisa Mellor would spend Christmas… with the strippers in Hustlers

This choice won’t reflect well on me. It’s neither edifying nor improving and has a core of savage capitalist consumerism, which is probably what makes it so Christmassy. Midway through Lorraine Scafaria’s Hustlers – a film about a group of strippers who right the wrongs of the 2008 financial crisis by drugging Wall Street guys to run up their company credit cards – there’s a scene that’d make anyone’s heart grow three sizes.

A dozen lap dancers gather for Christmas in a high-end apartment, their daughters and a grandmother in tow. Dressed in luxe loungewear and chunky gold, their skin glowing like a sucked butterscotch, they swap gifts, smile and sing and dance and thank the lord for their sisters. Expensive elegance is everywhere. Someone gets a fur coat, somebody else a pair of animal-print Louboutins. The woman who dips the dancers’ tits in bowls of ice before they go on stage is given an iPhone 4. Mostly though, they give each other affirmation. Without a natural hair colour, nude fingernail or a man in sight, it’s a dream family Christmas. Picture a Norman Rockwell painting with Jennifer Lopez in gold lamé, a cashmere Santa hat and a balcony bra. Feel-good festive perfection.

Michael Ahr would spend Christmas… secluded in Hogwarts

Some may have found Harry Potter’s winter holidays without his friends rather lonely, but I can think of nothing more magical than having the vast empty halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry all to myself. Why let the staff have the warm, dry, magical snow that fell annually in the Great Hall all to themselves? Not being of school age myself anymore, I might choose to share a butterbeer (or perhaps a hot buttered rum) with Dumbledore and Hagrid by a roaring fire.

I might even be tempted to make the trip to Hogsmeade to see all the shops decked out with lights and blanketed in snow. I’d still be able to enjoy the comparative solitude without all the kids running around, but I’m almost certain there would be a group of carolers wandering about the square, never mind the singing enchanted suits of armor back at the school. And of course, if I could pick a particular present, I’d choose to receive the same amazing gift Harry received that first Christmas from Dumbledore: his father’s Invisibility Cloak. I’d likewise pass it along as a family heirloom to my own children on some Christmas morning to come.

Jamie Andrew would spend Christmas… in a Deep Space Nine Holosuite

At first, I entertained the idea of spending Christmas in Baltimore with the denizens of The Wire, mainly because I liked the idea of children running up and down the streets hollering, ‘Omar’s coming!’ moments before the shotgun-wielding Robin Hood of the Hood came swaggering down the street wearing a big red coat and a white beard, tossing out bank notes and whistling ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’. Then I realised that the chances of me ending up a corpse inside a boarded-up derelict building before the turkey was even cooked were surprisingly high, so I thought I’d try Christmas with Frasier Crane and family instead. Unfortunately, my foreknowledge of Martin’s and Eddie’s deaths would cloud the occasion, and I’d probably spend all night slumped crying in Martin’s recliner, unable to tell anyone why I was so upset without violating the temporal time directive.

Best, then, to spend Yule time on Deep Space Nine. Christianity and its associated festive traditions don’t appear to exist in the 24th Century, so after saying hello to Sisko and co., and maybe playing a bit of Dabo at Quark’s, I’d probably spend the rest of my time in a faithful Holosuite reproduction of a 1990s Irish bar on New Year’s Eve getting absolutely wasted with fellow Celt Chief O’Brien. Now THAT’S what I call Christmas.

Juliette Harrisson would spend Christmas… in Narnia

Not, of course, the White Witch’s eternal winter, when it’s always winter but never Christmas, but a regular Christmas in Narnia. It would, of course, be a white Christmas because otherwise, how would Father Christmas come and deliver presents to everyone? So I could spend the season in a snowy woodland surrounded by magical creatures, and be in with a chance of a really good present. Or possibly a sewing machine.

Movies

Why Chronicles of Narnia’s Santa Claus Celebrates Christmas with Weapons of War

By Juliette Harrisson

Movies

The Rod Serling Christmas Movie You Never Saw

By Chris Farnell

On the first moonlit night when there’s snow on the ground, Narnian fauns, dryads, and dwarfs perform the Great Snow Dance, with the fauns and dryads dancing around while the dwarfs throw snowballs that don’t hit them (an often forgotten detail from the book version of The Silver Chair!). I would join in, although possibly not throw any snowballs as my aim isn’t that good. Then I’d go back to Mr Tumnus’s for sardines and cake on Christmas Eve and talk to him about his somewhat dubious taste in books (just what is Nymphs And Their Ways about, eh Tumnus?). I’d spend Christmas Day up at the castle of Cair Paravel, eating and drinking like a Queen, and then I’d go visit Mr and Mrs Beaver on Boxing Day for a feast of leftovers and maybe a little light ice fishing.

John Saavedra would spend Christmas…celebrating Life Day with Star Wars’ Poe Dameron

No one has ever cared so much about Life Day, the Star Wars galaxy’s own version of Christmas, as much as ace pilot Poe Dameron does in the Lego Star Wars Holiday Special. From decorating the Millennium Falcon and choosing the right Life Day sweater to roasting the traditional tip-yip (also known as Endorian chicken), Poe shows there’s something much stronger than the Force in the Star Wars universe: holiday spirit. Who knew the Resistance hero best known for his knack at blowing stuff up had such a soft spot?

Hanging with Poe on Life Day would mean chestnuts roasting on an open exhaust engine, drinking whatever passes for cocoa in the Star Wars galaxy, hanging out with Wookiees on their homeworld of Kashyyyk, singing festive carols in Huttese, and finding just the right Life Day tree for the Falcon. It’d also mean dancing to the hip tunes of Max Rebo’s drum (the rest of his band is unfortunately no longer with us) and partying with Lando Calrissian, Finn, Rose, Rey, Jannah, Mon Calamari, Jawas, Rodians, Ewoks, and maybe even Chewie’s son Lumpy. If you’re not sold by now, your taste in holiday parties might be bantha poodoo.

Elizabeth Donoghue would spend Christmas…. at The Office’s Classy Christmas

Dunder Mifflin has many memorable Christmas parties, but Steve Carell’s final festive special includes some of my favourite things about The Office; weird Gabe, Michael’s enduring hatred of Toby, and Michael and Holly’s adorable relationship.

After Toby announces he is taking a leave of absence for jury duty (‘Thank you, Scranton Strangler. I love you. You just took one more person’s breath away’) Michael learns that Holly will be returning to Scranton and demands that Pam’s regular Christmas party must get classy. What makes a Christmas classy? A backwards Kangol-esque Santa hat, a red velvet smoking jacket and a quarter of a jazz quartet of course.

I would actively enjoy watching Dwight take down Jim in their snowball fight (total bully, needs to be taken down a peg or two), get drunk with Kelly and Meredith, dance with Phyllis and Erin and learn more about the enigma that is Creed. And although it is slightly more subdued than their Benihana and Moroccan Christmas parties, I’m sure we could keep the party going at a Poor Richard’s after-party.

Kayti Burt would spend Christmas … on Themyscira

The Amazons’ decision to opt out of the “Patriarch’s World” has always been a relatable one, but never so much as in The Year 2020. Historically, I’m not really a beach person, but Themyscira, aka Paradise Island, has a lot going for it: warm weather, a supportive community, and live sporting events where you don’t have to worry about some drunken dudebro spilling cheap beer on your toga.

As far as I can tell from the Wonder Woman movies, no one (besides Young Diana, who’s usually working through some stuff) ever seems to be having a bad time on Themyscira. And why would you? The pre-Crisis comics incarnation of the island (which I am going to choose to accept as my holiday canon) includes indigeneous kangaroo-like creatures called Kangas that the Amazons ride like horses. Diana’s is called Jumpa; mine will be called Jimmy Hoppa, and we will explore the island’s cascading waterfalls and cliffside terraces together. In the evenings, I will attend performances at the Themysciran amphitheater with my new Amazonian friends or, if I’m feeling introverted, catch up on my book reading and crossword puzzles.

Listen, I wouldn’t want to spend forever on Themyscira—I’d miss my friends, family, and TV shows (Themyscira doesn’t seem to get a good wireless signal)—but a few weeks (or months, especially as I will be quarantining for my first two weeks) for Christmas 2020? Bring me to the enchanted feminist utopia.

Alana Joli Abbott would spend Yule… at the coven house from the Nightcraft Quartet

Witchkind, as presented in Shannon Page’s Nightcraft Quartet, don’t celebrate Christmas, but they do love a good Yuletide celebration. Page’s witches and warlocks are separate from humans, long lived, and magical. Young witches train in the magical arts at a coven house, living there like a dorm; the adult women of the coven (always numbering thirteen) may be involved in scientific research (like protagonist Callie), medicine and healing, or reading Tarot, and they teach their specialties to the young witches. The coven house is a central place where women gather to live, to practice magic together, to celebrate, and to honor traditional rituals. While Callie’s coven in San Francisco has their problems, the community there is caring and genuine, full of both youthful energy and centuries of experienced witchery.

One of the perks of editing this series is that I get sneak peeks into parts of the story readers haven’t seen yet—including Yule decorations. Rather than cutting down dead trees, witches coax living fir boughs to weave along the walls and mantles, accented with red ribbon and gold—coins, beads, chains. I can imagine the cozy San Francisco coven house filled with witches all rushing to perform their tasks to make the perfect celebration, some of them convincing the fir boughs to expand in just the right ways while others brew hot chocolate or prepare the feast. I picture them eating in the large hall, voices lifted in joyful chatter, and then making their way out to the grounds beyond the house to celebrate beneath the stars, singing midwinter songs and looking forward to the next year. After months of 2020 with smaller communities and less human contact, being surrounded by such a vibrant, magical group of women sounds like just the right way to end my year.

Rosie Fletcher would spend Christmas… with the Roy family from Succession

Go hard or go home, they say, so since I can’t go home this year, I’m going round the Roys. That is, of course, the family at the centre of Succession, a show peopled by the very wealthiest and utterly worst. Festivities would be held at the home of patriarch Logan Roy. His children and their partners would be obliged to attend. Logan would hire a chef to cook, waiting staff to serve, some of whom he would abuse. I would give them sympathetic “I’m sorry” looks but do nothing, secretly thankful Logan’s ire wasn’t focused on me.

In all likelihood I would be a figure like Greg (the egg), or Tom Wambsgans – mostly tolerated, vaguely despised and very much the second class citizens of the Roy clan, skulking on the periphery as Kendall, Roman and Shiv compete for Logan’s love and oldest son Connor comes up will another entirely ridiculous life plan – I dunno, maybe this year he’s decided that his next career move is to become Santa Claus.

The food would be extraordinary. The booze the very finest – how long before, like Greg, I would be claiming the bottle of vintage rose champagne I had just motored through was ‘not my favourite’? And the dinner table conversation would be electric. Electric like an electric shock – sharp, painful, disorientating, unexpected.

So Christmas has become too commercialised? Fine, fuck it. I’ll take the eye-wateringly expensive gift that’s grudgingly bestowed on me, I will gorge on the finest cheeses known to man and coat my tongue with port made from molten rubies, knowing I am on my way to moral bankruptcy and doing it anyway. Go hard or go home…

Kirsten Howard would spend Christmas… singing along in the closing moments of Scrooged

You’d be hard-pressed to find a Christmas movie that feels as genuinely uplifting during its climax as 1988’s Scrooged. Bill Murray’s arrogant TV boss Frank Cross, having been visited by the Ghosts of Christmases Past, Present and Future, disrupts a live broadcast of A Christmas Carol to rant openly and honestly at the cast and crew (and eventually you) as he makes a passionate case for a life less invested in exploitation and capitalism, and eventually kicks off a collective singalong of Annie Lennox and Al Green’s version of ‘Put a Little Love in Your Heart’.

That’s where I’d like to be this Christmas. Not just to sing along with Bill, but to be around people immediately swept along by the much-less-explored altruistic route of ‘no fucks given’.

Also hanging out with Bill Murray, though, of course.

So much of the last few years has been a public race to the bottom of Nothing Matters Mountain, but even if it hadn’t all been so demoralising and forced so many of us to reevaluate our priorities, Frank’s message of redemption in love and living as well as we can, while shrugging off our own heavy expectations of success, still feels really special.

This Christmas, there is light at the end of the tunnel. We may not be able to grab the nearest stranger and sing “put a little love in your heart!” at them right now, but we CAN carry that feeling with us into 2021. As Frank says: “There are people who are having trouble making their miracle happen”. We can always try and find time to stop focusing on our own for a while and to help them.

David Crow would spend Christmas… chilling with Harold and Kumar

Not many people are aware of this, but A Very Harold and Kumar Christmas is the best Harold and Kumar. It may not have the pop culture cache of their medicinal-fueled quest for mini-cheeseburgers, but it does have something very special, indeed: Wafflebot. If you’ve had the misfortune of living your life oblivious to Wafflebot’s existence, allow me to introduce you to a greater world of wonder and magic.

Wafflebot is the best Christmas present to ever come out of Santa’s Workshop. Displaying an eerily sophisticated artificial intelligence for a toy meant only to cook delicious breakfasts, Wafflebot can make you waffles any time by just popping the top and letting that batter drop. But he can also do so much more! Vaguely aware of the concept of friendship, this brunching Frankenstein can learn how to love and appreciate his owners… and defend them from any threat with scalding hot projectile syrup!

With the ability to serve breakfast, save your life, be manipulated into dangerous attack mode, and learn how to see the real you, all while playing a mean drum solo, Wafflebot would make any Christmas a sweetly warm experience. And then Harold and Kumar, and I could also steal a Christmas tree from NPH or something.

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