#Like my brother in christ. If you have an older sibling who gets jealous when *checks notes * other people dote on you or consider

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

My hot take is that some of you who live vicariously through fictional familial relationships yearn for "a healthy loving family" the same way a lonely person yearns for the perfect boyfriend/girlfriend/partner who will sweep them off their feet and dote on them and love them always and only focus on them and take care of them and protect them and provide for them and give them a fairytale wedding

And it shows

[chinatea]

Ian/BG, abo, Christmas bonus. (Part 1, Part 2)

AN: Well, it’s my birthday td, so I’m posting this as a gift to myself, i guess. Yay.

Jiyeon loves making love in the morning when there is little urgency to the process.

On most days, they wake up, almost synchronized - one of those magical mate things that they don’t tell you about - wash up and have a light breakfast before crawling back to bed for snogging. Ian would scent him and nuzzle his mark, purring to comfort him.

His alpha is happy, and the thought - more of a tangible sensation than a thought - would make his omega croon, silly and gleeful.

Today, however, is Christmas Eve and even if they’ve got plans, neither of them can say no to a lazy, slow-paced sex. Ian ruts into him until his knot swells, the omega’s heat clamping hard around his cock, locking it in until his alpha is trapped, low purrs seeping under his skin.

Ah, the purrs. Jiyeon loves how deep they can get, reverberating through his system, what with the way they’re pressed so intimately close. They share a few sweet nothings, voices reduced to whisper. Ian nuzzles his nose and smiles into his mouth, licking his way in - they kiss for a while, waiting for Ian’s swollen knot to subside.

The knotting itself rarely lasts long, but even his walls are loose enough for Ian to pull out, Jiyeon can’t let him go just yet. The craving is real, like an itch under his skin, and he is still learning how to deal with that. Having some quality time in the morning helps though - makes his prissy omega shut up for a while, so he can concentrate on doing things that are not Ian.

“How much time do we have?” Jiyeon murmurs, nose buried in the pillow that smells like them. It comforts him.

Ian lays a kiss on his shoulder, palm stroking down his side before resting in the dip of his waist.

“An hour or so,” he says. “We still need to drive to your dad’s first.”

Right. To pick up the twins. And then, they’re off to Busan because someone thought it would be a great idea to surprise good ol’ Jeons with a visit. Whomever said it, Jiyeon wants to kick them. And since Ian is the only one around, he kicks Ian - as in his arm flails around weakly, missing by a long shot.

Ian churtles, the line of his throat exposed for Jiyeon to stare at in longing. Sometimes he wishes he could mark him there, the way Ian did him, piercing his scent gland to leave a long-lasting testimony of their love. But stupid nature deprived him of the pleasure, so he has to settle for short-term ones, peppering Ian’s neck - and any place that strikes his fancy really - with cheeky love bites.

(Like someone strapped Ian to a beehive. Beautiful.)

Diminie and Christian are waiting for them, bags packed and rolled out, in the Parks mansion when they arrive.

It feels nice to be back home, surrounded by his loved ones, and see that nothing has really changed.

Diminie still hasn’t moved out, four years now into his marriage. He and his mate live separately, but some mates do nowadays. It’s a new thing, like giving each other space and everything, which Jiyeon still finds hard to wrap his head around - like, Ian can have his space when they’re both dead, maybe - but Di and their dad have always been close, as close as one can without making things too weird.

At times, Diminie can be a bit of an oddball.

He’s fragile and bubbly, very omega, very opposite of his twin, yet unlike Chris and Jiyeon (he doesn’t even know what he’s going to have for breakfast tomorrow, let alone who he’s going to be ten years from now), Di had it all mapped out in his mind since the age of two, or something. Diminie just knew things. By 16, he’d have his own little bakery; by 18, he’d marry his best friend and by 20, he’d have their first pup. And that’s barely scraping the list.

People who stick to their lists terrify Jiyeon sometimes, they really do.

At least, Christian takes more after him. In fact, he takes after Jiyeon a little too much, hence their bickering over the darndest things. Yet Jiyeon gets him better than anyone, how fragile Chris really is underneath all that swagger.

Diminie’s separation, taking a mate, had hit him hard. He felt abandoned and betrayed by his own twin, even if Diminie hadn’t gone anywhere physically, but he moved on from them - eager to start his own family, to be his own person while Chris still had no idea how to be something other than one half of the whole.

When Christian signed up for a dance school in the States, it was clear that his decision was not up for discussion. He needed to get away, learn how to stand on his own two feet and Jiyeon, all differences put aside, stood by him and persuaded their dad to let the boy go.

It’s been five years since then. Barely a day since Christian finally came him, just in time for Christmas.

Jiyeon is rapt to have him back. Somewhat relieved, too. Jiyeon hugs him first, the tightest hug he could squeeze out of himself.

“I missed you, pup,” he says in half voice, a tight clump in his throat as he swallows, a tiny bit emotional.

“Hyung,” Christian mumbles, nuzzling in sheepishly. For a moment, he reminds Jiyeon of the itty-bitty kid he used to be, sneaking into his bed at night with a book of fairy tales. So tiny and adorable and needy.

Jiyeon ruffles his hair, a fond smile on his lips. That is, until his eyes flicker down to take in the ugliest sweater he’s ever seen in his life. He feels attacked, all of a sudden, by his own blood.

A green strip of crocheted deers attempting to dab? He doesn’t find it witty, not one bit.  

“You’re not wearing this joke of a sweater to Busan,” he puts his foot down, as any older brother working in fashion would, a saccharine smile on his lips and a dangerous edge to his voice. Now that the warm family reunion is over with, it’s time to whoop Christian’s ass into shape.

“Hyung!” Christian hisses, not missing a beat. A pouty duckling beak rearing up. “You can’t tell me what to wear anymore.”

“Oh, is that so?” Jiyeon says, sickly sweet, arms crossed over his chest. Ready to pounce, all guns blazing.

(It’s fucking on.)

(One very disgruntled and de-sweatered Christian later.)

“Yannie, there is someone I’d like you to meet before we go,” Jiyeon says, an impish spark in his eyes. He’s bubbling with delight, rocking on the balls of his feet as he marvels at his mate’s confounded face.

“Oh?” Ian asks, an almost untraceable chagrin in his voice, well-masked, only Jiyeon knows him like the back of his hand by now. It vexes Ian immeasurably to be out of the loop on even the smallest things. Who is that someone he’s supposed to meet? Why hasn’t he been warned ahead of time? Preferably many weeks in advance, so Ian could prepare accordingly.

As much as Jiyeon enjoys keeping Ian in the dark for his personal amusement, he doesn’t think he can sit on this secret any longer - else he blows up.

He nods at Diminie who flits towards the door to usher Christian in, a wicker basket in his arms. Ocean blue ribbons are twined around the handle, meeting on top in a fancy bow. Jiyeon was very particular about the bow, as he’s particular about most things packaging - devil is in the details, after all.

“I know it’s a bit early, but Merry Christmas, baby,” Jiyeon chimes, rising on his tippy toes to plant a big smooch on Ian’s cheek before nudging him excitedly towards his ‘present’.

Ian takes a few cautious steps forward. One might say he appears to be a touch frazzled as he peeks in, almost wary, a happy surprised gasp parting his lips at the sight of a mastiff puppy nestled under a quilt blanket. He is the coziest thing, with floppy ears and stubby paws, a healthy luster to his bluish grey fur. A drowsy whine escapes the pup as Ian flicks its ear gently, petting along the chubby snout.

“Is it...really mine?” Ian asks, the way a five-year old would ask his parents if he can keep the snail he found outside as a pet - like, he’d feed it his grandma’s favourite potted azaleas and everything.

Adorable.

Jiyeon wants to snap a picture of that face, frame it and hang it over their bedroom nest for posterity.

“All yours, love, to bring home and spoil rotten,” Jiyeon beams. “But not too much unless you want me to get jealous, alpha.”

Ian levels him with the most intense look, the kind of look that belongs in their bedroom when all the layers of propriety are dissolved and emotions are bare. Ian, one arm hooked around his waist, snaps their bodies together, taking over his mouth in one hell of a kiss. It’s raw and voracious and it leaves all three omega siblings stunned.

A strong alpha presence unfurls in the room. It’s potent. And Jiyeon has a mind to cancel the whole thing and drag Ian somewhere private for an intimate conversation on manners.

“Get a hold of yourselves, christ,” Christian’s voice pierces through the haze. “And quit stinking up the room. You’re scaring the little one.”

Jiyeon sighs into the kiss, pulling back reluctantly to rest his cheek against Ian’s shoulder, learning how to breathe again. He feels bad when he sees the pup, wide awake and whimpering slightly, ears flattened against his head in submission.

“I think you should scent him,” he says to Ian. “Let him know you’re not danger.”

“Yeah,” Ian says, suddenly unsure. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

The alpha picks up the pup into his arms and everything falls into place. Ian looks beyond smitten already and it warms Jiyeon’s heart to see his mate so endeared and happy. They’ve come a long way, he thinks then, they truly have.

“We’re not really going to Busan, are we,” Jiyeon remarks as he stifles a yawn.

It’s been an hour into their trip and he feels too cozy and sleepy to give a damn about Ian’s schemes. As long as they arrive somewhere. For now, Jiyeon is happily cocooning inside his alpha’s coat where his woodsy scent is the thickest.

“You’ll see,” Ian replies with a brief glance at him, reaching out with one hand to fiddle with the collar of his coat, as if it’s going to make him more comfy. The alpha just likes to fuss around him and it’s not the worst thing ever, Jiyeon doesn’t think. The perks of being in love.

Jiyeon peers into the rear view mirror to find his brothers determinedly avoiding eye contact. Diminie has his nose tucked into a pocket-sized book - another obnoxiously sappy porn novel, from the looks of it, that he seems to inhale in dozens every year - while Christian is having an angry staring contest with his phone, probably still miffed about the sweater.

They’re obviously in on the secret.

“Where are we going, huh?” Jiyeon demands, his attention back on Ian. It can’t be revenge for the puppy surprise - he’s clearly been planning it for a while now, just like Jiyeon did.

His tiny fist pokes through the coat to bonk Ian on the knee. Three times. Each one weaker than the last. His palm rests on top of it for a moment, as if contemplating its next move, before digging into the meat of Ian’s thigh, thick and firm in his grip - Jiyeon’s mind is immediately sidetracked.

“No molesting the driver,” Ian chastises, a hand clasping over his and pressing a kiss to his knuckles before stuffing it back into his coat. “And as I’ve said, you’ll see.”

Somewhere along the way, he’d nodded off and when he opens his eyes, it’s to the fresh sight of pines and snow and a cozy little porch.

A picture perfect Middle of Nowhere.

Ian kills the car’s engine and wades out, still coat-less, and Jiyeon just wants to bury deeper into his layers because he hates cold. And watching Ian plod through mounds of snow in a thin cardigan makes him feel the chills.

The twins are just as reckless, spilling out of the car with giggly enthusiasm. Well, Christian - less giggly, but determined, as he rolls a heap of snow into a ball and crashes it on top of Diminie’s cape. The other squeals and skitters away behind the car, most likely to plan his revenge.

Both of them seem to be having the time of their lives, being five-year-olds again. While Jiyeon would sell his soul for a glass of mulled wine and a warm compress to cuddle with in bed.

Ian reappears, opening the door and letting Jiyeon feel the nasty bite for real now. The omega puffs his cheeks out and looks at Ian, all prickly, who busies himself with undoing his safety belt.

“I’m not going,” he whines, just to be petty. It’s probably much warmer inside the cabin, but there is quite a bit of snow and a minus degree weather between him and the cabin, so he’ll pass, for now.

Ian sighs and gathers Jiyeon into his arms, supporting under his butt as the other does his best job to hold on, hands weaving around Ian’s neck.

Much better.

It’s warm inside and smells like Christmas chicken with herbs and spices.

“Ho-ho-ho, naughties,” a voice booms and soon enough Junghwan pops out, weilding a spatula, unkempt Santa beard draped around his chest like a necklace.

“Oh, hello, hottie.”

Junghwan wiggles his eyebrows at Christian when he spots him, and the other huffs, picking up both his and Diminie’s bags, making a bit of a show of it, too - he’s an omega who can pull his weight around and needs no big tough alpha to save him kind of act - and stalking away up the stairs.

“Oh well,” the alpha shrugs, unperturbed, “the night is young.”

He faces Diminie who returns his smile sheepishly. Junghwan’s gaze softens, no trace of the raunchiness from before. Still playful, though. It’s a rare sight on him.

“Hey, Mr. Cupcake, wanna help me out in the kitchen?”

Diminie giggles, sweater paws covering his mouth. He lets Junghwan help him get rid of the extra snow hiding in the folds of his coat, patting them away. Jiyeon can’t help but notice from the side how gentle the alpha is with his brother, respectful, too. There is so much more to him than meets the eye. He wishes Christian would maybe give him a little chance to prove himself.

“Are you with me, pup?” Ian’s voice snaps him back to his alpha.

“Always with you, alpha,” Jiyeon simpers, interlacing their fingers as Ian leads them into the next room, very instagram-worthy, with a fireplace, million of throw pillows and a glass wall overlooking the frozen lake by their cabin - it’s started snowing just now and Jiyeon already feels a little bit magical.

But also hungry. Plenty hungry.

“So, what’s this little winter nest of yours, mhm?” he asks, inspecting a few knick-knacks over the fireplace.

“Ours,” Ian corrects him. “My Christmas gift to us.”

Ian has spent too much time with their dad, Jiyeon thinks as he inspects the new digs, a winter chalet in Gangwondo with a promise of the outdoor hot springs - Jiyeon has yet to see it, too weighed down by all the chicken in his stomach.

Damn Junghwan and his prowess in the kitchen. That man is a keeper - too bad Christian is too damn stubborn, just like Jiyeon is, only Jiyeon is clever stubborn while Christian is stupid stubborn, spending most of the night on his phone or upstairs with a book or whatever.

Like, Jiyeon is mighty tempted to waddle over yonder and give him a piece of his mind, but maybe later - he’s too cozy, snuggled up next to Ian, the alpha’s arm thrown over shoulder. He feels bliss. He is bliss.

The ambiance is nice, too. The crackling of firewood, the blizzard outside, hushed voices from the kitchen where Junghwan and Diminie are putting the christmas cake through its paces. He guesses it can’t be helped that those two have gotten so chummy - food is their passion, something they pursue professionally and honestly, it seems, at last, that Diminie has found an informed listener for his spiritual quest to bake the perfect cupcake, so good for him.

“You know what I was thinking about when I saw you rocking the little pup in your arms?” Jiyeon speaks up into the comfortable silence between them.

“What were you thinking about, love?” Ian hums, pressing a sweet kiss onto the crown of his head.

Jiyeon smiles to himself, savouring those thoughts. Although saying them out loud makes him feel a touch self-conscious and silly.

“It made me think about you holding our own little pup in your arms, scenting him to sleep,” he says with a sigh. God, he’s so not ready to even venture there, but.

“You did?” Ian asks, carefully.

“Yeah,” Jiyeon says. “I mean, I’m not suggesting or...god no. I’m more than happy with just the two of us. I’m selfish and ideally want you all to myself at all times, but...I didn’t hate that thought, you know, as much as I thought I would. It was nice. Sort of.”

“It’s okay, pup. One day we’ll talk about it, okay?”

“Yeah?” Jiyeon glances up, drowning in Ian’s gaze.

“Yeah.”

Always fucking drowning. Like one does in quicksand. Or in love.

(“I want you to know you make me the happiest man, Ji.”)

----

Some extras (as per tradition).

- Ian and BG will have their first kid, an omega, in mid-thirties (around ten years into their marriage, btw) and then a year later, alpha twins.

- Diminie has a mate and two-year-old omega pup which Diminie had at 20, just like he wanted. And he doesn’t intend to stop there.

- Diminie owns several bakeries around Seoul, the first one he started at 16 (sponsored by his dad, ofc). He’s a pastry genius, his cupcakes already became a household name in Korea, now spreading all over the world.

- Christian had a few boyfriends in the States, but nothing too serious because he knew one day he was going to go back and, hence, break it off. He’s currently single and not looking for relationship.

- Tattoo, same age as BG, is also single. Still waiting for the One, because he’s romantic like that, and while he waits, he’s figured he might as well have a little fun with every pretty omega batting their eyelashes his way. He’s like, the opposite of Ian.

- Tattoo is a self-taught chef. Has his own place in Busan, with two Michelin stars he was awarded just recently. Plans to open a new place in Seoul, soon.

- True to his persona name, this Tattoo has two full arm sleeves. A bit risque for a chef in Korea, I suppose, but still a big hit with both the patrons and one-timers in his restaurant. Most of them are, unsurprisingly, omegas.

- Also, in this AU, BG has naturally wavy hair which he used to straighten out all the time. Ian had no idea until they’ve gotten married, but once he did, he got floored with major uwus and suggested (begged) BG leave his precious hair alone. (BG, Diminie and Tat are the wavy hair squad.)

- You might have noticed that Seagull is not really featured here. That’s because I haven’t yet come up with a story for him. I might in the future though, if I decide to continue with this universe.

- Also, I borrowed some worldbuilding details from my other abo au, specifically about marking. In short, only omegas get marked by their alphas. Marks are not permanent and fade away with time. Also, a mark can be overpowered by another mark made by the alpha of a more dominant status.

[ostricacida]

Everything that’s wrong with Netflix’s The Kissing Booth

Last week I flushed 1 hour and 45 minutes of my life down the toilet to watch this masterpiece of mediocrity, so I made it my mission to warn people who have Netflix from watching this movie and basically lose precious minutes of their lives.

1. Stereotypes

Do a quick rundown of all the american high school film stereotypes you can think of. Done? Ok, they’re not enough. You have white privileged kids, with tons of money, living in big ass mansions (like, 10 million dollars worth mansions, if not more) who all attend a boarding school. In Los Angeles. Also, did I just mention this is the whitest cast you’ll ever see? There are like, a couple of token poc and that’s it.  - The nerdy girl who no one pays attention to who suddenly becomes the most desired girl in the school? Check. - The nerdy best friend who wants to date the prettiest, most socially unattainable and nastiest girl in the school? Check. (I was hella confused about the two protagonists’ dynamics, but we’ll get to this later). - The bad boy™️ who’s the school’s lothario, captain of the football team, who drives a motorcycle and has various issues with anger management to the point of breaking some guys’ nose several times? Check.

2. Plot holes

Buckle up because you’re in for a ride. The movie begins with a quick summary of the main characters’ past. Elle and Lee were born in the same hospital, on the same day, and their mothers were best friends, so they have basically lived in each other’s pocket since they were born. They developed a set of rules while growing up, and one of them states that “siblings are off limits” when it comes to relationships. But guess what? Elle has a huge ass crush on Noah, Lee’s older brother and certified bad boy™️. The plot at this point basically writes itself: the best friend is in love with her, and while she has a brief fling with his older brother she realizes that she’s in love with her best friend too, right? WELL, HELL FUCKING NO. I swear on my life this plot would’ve been 1000 times more logical that the shit it actually goes down in this film.

3. The main female character was actually written by a thirsty white man in his 50s who has read too much Twilight and 50SOG

The first thing that actually makes you go “what in the fuck” is right at the beginning of the film, when Elle is late to school because both her uniform’s pants are dirty so she clearly opts for the skirt from her 4th grade’s uniform. Now. When a screenwriter needs this kind of narrative device to set the plot in motion, then maybe they should consider printing the script, putting it into a shredder, and then setting fire to what remains of it. Long story short, as soon as she gets off the car the whole school starts staring at her and a jock smartly decides to butt-slap her. Cut to Noah, who abandons his beloved bad boy motorcycle to break the aforementioned jock’s nose.

During the whole movie there are several instances where Noah is being violent and short tempered, but she’s still attracted to him. He’s possessive, controlling and unhealthily jealous to the point of threatening every single guy in the school to stay away from her. At one point he intentionally hurts her by not telling her that he threatened her date, and therefore this guy stood her up in order to not get his own ass beaten. But the most insane thing is that when she finds out about this, she decides to confront him in the football team’s locker room by TAKING HER SHIRT OFF IN FRON OF HIS TEAMMATES. TO DEMONSTRATE WHAT?!?! (She spends like, 75% of her time on screen in her bra, and I’m not saying some anti-feminist shit, but being shirtless so much would’ve been less disturbing if she wasn’t constantly sexualized and preyed upon by literally every single man in this film).

Despite knowing Noah is the biggest piece of trash in the whole school, and a notorious manwhore, she decides to kiss and then lose her big V to him anyway, in the span of the same week. NB: she had stressed many and many times that she had never been kissed during the first half of the movie. Now, verginity is a social construct and all that jazz, but I find it quite unrealistic that a girl would act like this. During this scene I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that teenage girls are going to watch this shit and think it’s ok to share something so intimate with a douchebag you barely know and who has proved himself to be a first class abuser more than once.

4. Plot holes (pt. II)

Remember when I said that I would get back to the main characters’ dynamics? Ok so, the angst of the whole movie revolves around the fact that Elle is seeing Noah behind Lee’s back, but Lee finds it out anyway. One would think this is the time when Lee is finally declaring his love to Elle and that’s why he was so upset about her dating his brother, right? WRONG. Lee is upset because, jesus christ you gotta hear this, SHE BROKE THE RULE? THAT’S EXACTLY IT?! HE EVEN HAS A GIRLFRIEND BY THIS TIME IN THE MOVIE AND HE’S SO UPSET BECAUSE... SHE BROKE A RULE THEY MADE UP WHEN THEY WERE 6?!?! Fuck this shit I’m out. This makes absolutely no sense narratively.

5. Conclusions (more stereotypes)

All this ranting made me forget to clarify that the movie is called The Kissing Booth because Elle and Lee decide to contribute in a school’s charity event by suggesting a kissing booth to raise money. Oh and all of a sudden Lee is ok with Elle and Noah dating, so he gives them their blessing and helps her to reach his brother before he leaves for Boston, because yeah a rich ass white kid won a scholarship to play football at Harvard. Who would’ve thought.

[junhuiste]

[ wonwoo - table for one ]

⌦ fluff, valentine’s day au bc i’m a slut for corporate america milking us dry for a heteronormative holiday, sweater + wholesome + soft feelings for wonwoo, cynical st8ments from reader about being a single pringle 

⌦ lover birds are overrated

⌦ words: 2131

Heaving what was intended to be a sigh of waves of relief, had come out to be a somewhat tornado of mild shame, as you bid a measly attempt at holding your head high, jaunting through the massive doors of the restaurant.

Struck by an endless playlist of the same songs that belted out “you are my only one”, pairs of lovers scattered throughout, and the never ending, pricking sight of dozens upon dozens of hands tucked into one another for comfort or for show that were just enough to throw you over the brink and cause disgusting discomfort in your stomach, nothing but a faltering mumble fell out, “Y/N, and party of one.”

Instead of thrusting pity upon yourself after catching sight of the waiter’s parabolic smile flatten out to what resembled a woeful wince, you chuckled to yourself and reassured the waiter that it was truly okay that no one bothered to ask you out even though you kinda looked “hella cute” yesterday but that’s okay because not everyone can win at love!

Singles empowerment, you thought to bolster your slowly sinking mood. What had you in such a melancholy mood, you internally slapped yourself for, because goddammit this was supposed to be a “treat yourself” night but alas, you wallowed only to drown in self-pity. Okay, so maybe a hot date could’ve made the night better, but Christ, you were about to have a plate of steaming hot food instead, which was indeed ten times better than having to make eye contact in order to revive a conversation towards a partner across the table.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart!” chirped an overly bubbly woman to her husband, who both had just entered the restaurant. 

Sigh.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.” you mocked her to yourself, an ugly, ugly green snake of envy slithered closer to your brain.

It wasn’t that you were an extremely resentful person, just so filled to the brim with an abysmal hate for every single goddamn person on earth, actually you were completely the opposite, but as you were on every February 14th, nothing could milk you dry of cynical statements and the putrid odor of annoyance. Of course, corporations would take advantage of this day, proposing billion dollar campaigns to dump buckets and buckets of pink and red everywhere but your heart.

As your turn to be called neared, any coveted thoughts induced by this godforsaken holiday started to leave you. You had better plans in mind than being sent over the edge for some overrated mind blowing orgasms, like the ones your roommate said she’d be receiving tonight, blegh, but instead losing your mind over a damn good drink and one hell of a good hot meal for yourself and you only. 

The thought of that big ass plate being delivered to you surely did turn your frown upside down, because sharing, like orgasms, was overrated.

If there were one person, though, an intruding, spontaneous thought pervaded its way upon your train, that you’d want to take you out, what was the best answer out of A.) the cute boy that always scrunched his nose in the most adorable manner when he laughed B.) Jeon Wonwoo, C.) someone that could hold a powerful gaze and was shy and delightful (did you mention cute in an option yet?), or D.) the boy who just walked through the restaurant door with the gently yet menacing look and whipped his head around when a somewhat younger-ish looking version of him called “Wonwoo, come on.”

Wait–

The younger boy, who you assumed was Wonwoo’s younger brother, walked to the waiter to leave his name and party number, as the older stayed behind, hands in pockets, seemingly miserable and not wanting to be whacked by the knuckle of the Valentine’s day atmosphere.

Curiosity sprung upon you, wondering why Wonwoo took his brother to this restaurant, but you concluded that yes, he was just as quiet and sweet as that tiny Hershey’s Kiss your roommate threw at you like he seemed in your biochemistry class. He treated his younger sibling out to a nice dinner, and hat you really appreciated, though having only assumed, because he embraced the family part of love, and did not fall into capitalism’s dirty tricks of romance and didn’t bring a date, which sort of caused a stir within you, which really shouldn’t have because you weren’t a jealous person, but only for tonight–“Y/N, party of one!”

The part where corporations spent billions of dollars on splashing every nook and cranny with pink and red? Yeah, your cheeks were included, as you were seized up in utter humiliation in front of the rest of the customers patiently waiting, though all they wanted was good food and a good orgasm for later, but nonetheless, the world now knew how fucking lonely you were.

Before taking even one step, you spun your head out of worriedness to see if Wonwoo had heard that you were Single McFucking Pringle, and much to your dismay, what normally would’ve caused orange-winged monarchs to quiver around in your stomach instead provoked bees (as much as you wanted to save them) that left tiny little pricks of pure embarrassment.

You met a warm pair of dark brown eyes that held a certain tranquility, but you quickly turned back around to cover your flustered self.

“Come with me,” the waiter cordially lead you to a table and you could’ve tripped on air in response to the lack of dignity you had in this moment, but by the grace of the universe, which you barely trusted at this point, managed to get to the table without toppling over your sad self.

As soon as you were seated, eyes scoured the environment to search for those same pair of brown eyes that had met yours for a short second in time before you descended into disgrace. They were nowhere to be found for now, as Wonwoo and his brother were still in the waited seating area of the restaurant.

Maybe a tall glass of a little something special could’ve helped you get over your blunder and loneliness, which brought you here in the first place, but sure, a glass of water, I’m driving home tonight, no ice please worked just as fine.

Pouting a taut pair of pillows, you breathed in a pathetic pocket of air and sipped as the sight of the waiter leading only Wonwoo’s brother to a table. Perhaps Wonwoo had gone to wash his hands free of sin, but what sin did this boy commit, who you deemed a shy angel in your eyes, or maybe he’d gone and only dropped his brother off as a you owe me bro solid in exchange for a punch on the shoulder.

Maybe Wonwoo had a date of his own tonight, but the bare thought of that sent tiny bubbles into your straw, because you were getting caught up in the mere thought of this certain Jeon Wonwoo, who you’d just noticed was clad in an attire opposite his brother, who wore a button up rolled up to his elbows and slacks--a navy blue sweater paired with jeans and sneakers.

Who you’d just noticed…

Push, push these thoughts out! Goddammit this was your treat yourself night on the night of singles over doubles, celebrating you for some capitalistic reason, where that big plate would show up to your table anytime soon, but a faux smile from the waiter who wrongfully deceived you in the greatest act of treachery brought two plates to the table next to you.

Well shit, at least you’d get a look at Wonwoo again, who was seated with a ghost across the table, fiddling with his thumbs, to which you found extremely endearing because Jeon Wonwoo was an incredibly wholesome boy that you just really wanted to laugh at, with his nose scrunch, at your excruciatingly corny jokes.

Wonwoo’s eyes behind his specs found yours once again, as you continued to stare off into the realm of nothing while reevaluating your current life choices, but immediately deterred to this hands, thus you found yourself in sheer chagrin for the nth time tonight.

It’d be a few minutes before your food would arrive, so you left your trench coat on the back of the chair and trod to the restroom.

An eagle soaring over the vast region, eyeing its prey, your frenzied overlook at the restaurant was maybe more for the fact that your food was just being delivered to your table, or that Wonwoo kid.

Your heel felt entirely uncomfy but it was nothing that a minor tug on your shoe could fix, and while running a hand over your head trying to regain stability, you wobbled slightly but stood up straight after. Oddly enough, your mind was fixated on those two aforementioned things, ahem, someone, hence your dumbass to sort of stumble but not fall to the point of oh my fucking god you idiot into a dark-fabric covered shoulder.

Right before smoothing out you outfit, “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention, Y/N,” rang in your ears for quite some time.

“No, no, don’t worry about it, um...Wonwoo! It’s my fault, I was just too excited that my food came,” you tried to play it cool and brush it off your shoulder, but all there was was dust, mixed with your confusion and distress.

Wonwoo’s hand reached up to tousle his side swept, charcoal colored hair and he chuckled, emitting an unmitigated radiance you’d only ever found to shine for him.

The stiff tension wasn’t fraught, somehow you found it to be quite natural, and the genial tone between both you and Wonwoo was very evident. He took a small breath in, “Um, no offense, really...I  don’t want this to sound rude, so please don’t take this the wrong way because I don’t intend for this to come off the way it sounds but,” Wonwoo shifted his glasses a little.

It was Valentine’s Day, and it felt like being punched in the guts February 13th when someone cackled in your face at the thought of them taking you out, so you didn’t really know what to regard as rude anymore. For all you cared, Wonwoo could sock you in the face for being a stumbling idiot and you would fall to your knees and thank him.

A pause invaded the scene once more, and you clung onto Wonwoo’s words, wanting to know in what possible way he could be rude to you.

“Why are you sitting alone? I’m not judging by all means, but it’s the most barf-inducing yet “romantic” day of the year, and you managed to brace this face of not caring about this ludicrous holiday.”

You didn’t know what to expect with Wonwoo, no one ever did, as he was in a corner one day, to clapping his hands in laughter the next. If this was his definition of rude, anything you’ve ever done would be sinister.

Wonwoo was nothing but wholesome. And you reveled at the mere thought, well, you had the embodiment of precious in the flesh at your sight.

“Wonwoo, don’t apologize for that,” you said, “and evidently I don’t have a valentine, so I decided to treat myself out to dinner tonight. I mean, who cares about lover birds when you could be a lonely bird?”

A simper played out on lips, and thankfully it didn’t convey pity.

The thought came up in you, similar to what Wonwoo had just asked you and deemed “rude”.

“Wait, but Wonwoo, now I have a right to ask why you’re here by yourself?”

He almost looked like he was caught off guard, but shook his head assertively, “My younger brother has a date tonight and asked if I’d drop him off, then uh, I got hungry so I just had to stay and eat–”

It wasn’t a date after all, and you hated that you went out on a limb. But shit, your food had been sitting there for a good 2 minutes whilst you were getting caught up in your mutual loneliness with Jeon Wonwoo.

Wonwoo gaped his mouth a tad bit open to recollect his thoughts, but you were almost impatient because you had a fine ass boy in front of you, wanting to tell you everything, yet you felt like you were interrupting him with your gestures, and you had a plate back at the table.

“And then I saw you here, which compelled me to stay more than their Valentine’s Day dinner discount,” had left his mouth, come again?

There were no feelings of complex emotion coursing raw through your veins, you were simply dumbfounded and delighted.

“Y/N, can I join you at your table?”

bruh so my school’s broadcast/news televisor/tv did a segment on being by urself on valentine’s day yesterday so i rushed to the fucking library to write it asap and usually it takes me a week to plan out the plot but i wrote the plot for this in half a lunch period and wrote it last night and today

imma cry it usually takes me months to write a fic and i have one sitting in my drafts that i started in september and it ain’t even halfway done but i managed to whip this one up JUST FOR THE SAKE OF PUBLISHING ON VALENTINE’S DAY BYE

[5hfanfiction]

When She Sees Me (Chapter 1)

Summary: Camila’s a rich girl with some demons she can’t escape from. Lauren’s in a famous girl group and can’t tell the difference between who she wants to be and who others think she is.

It’s obvious they’re meant to be, but for some reason the universe is trying to do everything possible to tear them apart.

-

When Camila is in her senior year, she is already on top of the world.

-

“Baby. Wake up.”

She squints one eye open and rolls over to see Dua giving her that cheeky, beaming smile that she fell in love with three years ago and she breaks into her own grin. “What time is it?” Camila mumbles, propping herself up slightly and reaching for the phone laying on her nightstand.

“Six o’ five. We better hurry or we’re going to be late.”

Camila turns her phone on and immediately winces at the brightness. “Can you read the notifs for me?” she groans, flashing the phone screen at Dua.

Dua takes the phone in her hand. “Ally texted you telling you to wake up. Also, I think she sent you like, five, memes.”

Her phone chimes again.

“‘Did Dua stay over last night? I hear you two talking…’” Dua reads. “Yes, I’m here, Ally!” she shouts.

“Please tell me you guys kept it PG last night!” Ally’s voice is slightly muffled. She’s only in the next room over.

“Can you guys all be quiet? Some of us have an extra hour to sleep.” And then there’s Shawn, Camila’s older brother.

The door flies open and all of a sudden the oldest Cabello sibling, Harry, barges in. “Get out,” Camila whines, and Dua just laughs.

“Yeah, everybody seems fully clothed.” Oh, shit, he’s on the phone.

“Who are you talking to?” Camila sits up in bed and scowls at her brother.

“Ally.”

Camila rolls her eyes. “You guys are all idiots!” she yells. Three separate laughs come back in response. “Jesus Christ,” she hisses, and then she grabs Dua’s hand and tugs her out of bed. “Come on, hun, it’s time to face whatever dumbasses the universe throws at us today.”

She slips her glasses on her face as she and Dua walk out the door.

-

See, they all kind of have a routine by now.

Dua doesn’t stay over that often- only when Camila’s parents are off on particularly long business trips or it’s a special occasion (i.e. their anniversary)- but whenever she does, she always finds herself feeling a bit out of place. She’s only told Camila this once, but Camila has kept it in mind ever since, because she knows the whole Cabello clan can be a little overwhelming.

Okay, maybe more than a little.

“Are we going to stop to get Starbucks before school?” Ally asks as she maneuvers around Camila to reach for an apple. “Because if not I’m going to make a smoothie.”

Camila eyes the clock. “If we get Starbucks we’re going to be late. Go with a smoothie. And make me and Dua one, please.”

“Gotcha. Harry?” Harry tosses Ally the bag of frozen fruit. “Thanks.”

As Ally dumps the fruit in the blender, Camila pulls her phone out of the pocket of her robe and reaches for the Beats speaker on the kitchen island. A few moments later, a song with a nineties R&B vibe to it is pumping throughout the room. Camila sings along, as usual.

“He know I keep it ready on the regular, so I don’t have to get ready, ain’t no settin’ up…” She collects up her homework on the kitchen counter and makes a move for her backpack. “When I give it I make sure I give more than enough, yeah; he know, he know this-”

“I hate this song,” Ally says.

“Shut your mouth.” Camila glares at her. “Don’t disrespect the Unholy Trinity like that.”

Ah, the Unholy Trinity. They’ve been Camila’s longtime obsessions- she collects favorite artists the way some people collect coins, or… stamps. Do people still do that?

Either way, she love-love-loves the Unholy Trinity. Seriously, they’re right up her alley. Three smokin’ hot girls with amazing personalities and bomb-ass music? Sign her up. She’s loved them ever since they won the X-Factor two years ago. She’s loved them ever since the media deemed them the next Destiny’s Child. She may or may not write fanfiction about them in her spare time.

Okay, maybe that one’s going a little overboard. But can you blame her? Just look at them.

“Oh, right, I forgot that Lauren Jauregui is the love of Camila’s life- sorry, Dua.”

“That’s not true!” Camila frowns in protest. “I just think Lauren Jauregui’s really hot. But nobody compares to Dua.” She walks over to Dua, cups her chin in her hand, and kisses her cheek quickly. “I’m yours,” she whispers.

“Okay, gross. Back off with the PDA.” Ally pretends to throw up. Camila kisses Dua again and snipes, “You’re just jealous because you’re the only Cabello that’s single.”

“Stop!” Ally cries, hiding her face in her hands. “It’s not my fault that I suck at relationships.” Harry passes her three to-go cups, which she fills with smoothies before fitting lids on each one. “Here you go. Dua, Mila, you guys have thirty minutes to get dressed and out the door. If you don’t I’m leaving without you.” She gives Harry a quick hug. “Have fun at work, you old, old man.”

“Have fun at high school, you little, little toddlers,” Harry shoots back before rushing out the front door. Camila and Dua both grab their smoothies before heading upstairs to Camila’s bathroom. “Thanks, Als!” Camila calls over her shoulder.

Ally waves her off. “No problem. Just don’t be late.”

“We won’t!”

Much like the Cabello siblings have their own kitchen routine, Dua and Camila have their own routine in Camila’s bathroom. Nothing sexual- most of the time. But it actually works out pretty well because Camila usually wears quite a bit of makeup and Dua wears next to none, but Camila leaves her hair natural and Dua likes to straighten hers, so they switch off fairly smoothly and Camila has a very big bathroom and it all fits together neatly.

Today they’re moving a little slower than most days, so by the time they’re dressed and walking downstairs Ally is already threatening to leave.

“Hurry up!” she demands, smoothie cup in one hand and two tennis bags in the other- one is her own, and the other is Camila’s. Dua and Camila put their empty cups by the sink and pick up the pace a little. Right as they’re about to walk out the door, Shawn trudges downstairs, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

“Bye, guys,” he grumbles, clearly still tired. “Bye, Shawn!” the three shout in unison as they slam the door shut.

Ally practically runs down their long driveway, tennis bags bouncing against her hip. Dua follows closely behind, and Camila’s picking her way down in her Louboutins and that fishnets-under-ripped-boyfriend-jeans thing that she’s become quite taken with. Ally hates it 'cause she thinks the fishnets are stupid, and Dua doesn’t quite understand the trend (she’s more of a simple t-shirt and sweatpants kind of girl) but she thinks Camila looks hot as hell in them regardless.

“Oh my goodness, hurry up!” Ally calls, but she’s laughing watching Camila struggle down their driveway. “I call shotgun!” Camila screams. God, she’s usually so fucking good at walking in ridiculous heels but their driveway is her worst nightmare because of how steep it is.

Dua, being the amazing girlfriend she is, even though she’s stifling chuckles at Camila trying to get to the car, holds the door open to the passenger side for Camila until she gets down, and shut it behind her like a true gentleman. “Chivalry isn’t dead,” Camila whispers loudly to Ally as Dua slides into the back seat next to their backpacks and Camila and Ally’s tennis bags.

Ally leans in really close and says in Camila’s ear, so Dua can’t hear her, “A real chivalrous girlfriend wouldn’t have just stood there and laughed at you, but that’s just me.”

Camila sucks in a sharp breath and gives Ally a meaningful look. What else was Dua supposed to do. Carry her? That’s just ridiculous.

But this has been a pattern over the last month or so- Ally and Shawn, mostly, and sometimes Harry, and a couple times Camila’s parents have even said a few things about it. Just little comments about Dua and Camila’s relationship: about whether they’re really serious, about if they really want to stay together when they both go off to college. Stuff like that. Camila has no idea where this is coming from, considering she and Dua have been together for three years (since the end of freshman year) and have never once stopped to take a break. And in Camila’s opinion? They really are serious.

The one thing is sex. They haven’t had sex. Dua has made a couple of advances (trust her, it was just really heavy petting) but Camila just doesn’t want to. Yes, she’s eighteen, and yes (as some people, including Dua, have mentioned) she sometimes (all the time) dresses like she’s twenty-five and at a club, but it’s not a crime that she doesn’t want to have sex. She’s not going to be pressured into anything. She’s simply not ready.

It’ll happen eventually, anyway, so… who even cares? Why is she even thinking about this? She’s going to have sex with Dua. Probably. Definitely. Just… not right now. Maybe when they, uh, get married.

Married. It’s weird, because Dua and Camila have been together for a while, but something in her just can’t imagine walking down the aisle with Dua. Or even proposing. But that’s probably just because she hasn’t really seen lesbian weddings in modern media except in Glee, and Glee doesn’t reflect on real life at all.

They haven’t even talked about it. They haven’t even talked about what’s going to happen after they graduate and Camila inevitably goes to Harvard and Dua inevitably goes to some arty-farty school in Washington and they have to do a long-distance relationship or- or break up.

They haven’t talked about any of it.

Camila wonders if they’ll ever talk about it.

She turns her attention back to Ally, who is explaining to Dua where exactly the Cabello parents are this time.

“Sinu’s somewhere in Europe right now. She just came out with her new fall line- oh my goodness, have you seen it?” Ally’s eyes are shining, something that happens every time she talks about her mother’s career. “It’s gorgeous. I love it so, so much. It’s all over Instagram and Tumblr- did you know she let me look over her rough sketches and give my input on it?” She’s practically glowing.

Anyone who knows Camila knows she loves her clothes- designer brands and new internet trends and sky-high heels- but Ally is the true style aficionado in their family.

She takes after their mother, of course.

Sinuhe Cabello, the founder, namesake, head designer, and CEO of the iconic Cabello fashion brand, had risen to fame when she was just twenty years old. Newly pregnant. Newly married. She barely had anything except her talent, her compassion, and her brain. No money. No connections.

And now she’s here. Four kids and billions of dollars later and Camila thinks her mother is the most influential, amazing, inspiring person she’s ever met. And all of the Cabello kids see their mother the same way.

Even though she was always busy, she was always, always there for them. They never felt neglected or unloved. Sinu had always made an effort to be a huge part of their lives, even if it was over Skype calls or good morning and good night texts. She was just so there, even when she wasn’t there in person.

“And Ale’s giving a seminar in Arizona, I think. But he’s coming back tonight to take us out for dinner, which is really nice.” Ally turns to look at Camila. “Where did he say we were going tonight?”

And then there was their father, Dr. Alejandro Cabello, the brilliant psychologist-turned-writer who also spends his fair share of time in the spotlight due to his three bestselling novels. He is a former Harvard professor, he comes from one of the most influential, well-connected families in America, he’s one of the most intelligent people in the world, and he’s also easily the biggest, mushiest dork that Camila has ever come in contact with.

He’s also gone a lot, but not as much as he used to be, and definitely not as much as Sinu is. Alejandro puts in the same amount of effort into seeing his kids as much as possible, and it reflects a lot of his relationship with all four. Harry, being the first Cabello child and therefore experiencing the first overwhelming stages of Sinu’s fame, didn’t see his parents while growing up as much as Camila, the baby of the family, did, but you’d never be able to tell. Camila and Harry are equally close to their parents, which is almost impossible to reach considering the circumstances but they made it work somehow.

As long as Camila could remember, her parents had always been famous. She was born into fame. All of the Cabello kids were. And maybe some of that contributed to parenting that many people in the past have called “eccentric” at best and “life-ruining” at worst. For example, how Sinu and Ale insist the kids call them by their first names, instead of “mom” or “dad”. Or how Sinu and Ale have taken some pretty drastic measures in order to keep their kids out of the fickle world of fame, and have done some borderline insane things (including making detrimental career choices ) to do things like show up to Harry and Shawn’s high school graduation, or one of Camila or Ally’s concerts.

But it doesn’t really matter what other people say. They love their parents in the end. And their parents love them. Camila is very, very grateful for her family. For all they’ve given her, she would be the most selfish person in the world not to be.

“I don’t know,” Camila says to Ally. “I’m pretty sure he said it was some really fancy restaurant, but we’re definitely gonna end up at McDonald’s or something.”

“Of course we are.” Ally giggles at that.

As she pulls her Lamborghini (18th birthday presents from Sinu and Ale; Ally got one in white, Camila has one in black) into the school’s parking lot, there’s the usual commotion. Another “questionable” parenting choice: sending their kids to public school. All of them but Harry attended Restrepo High School, which although was decidedly not ghetto or anything, was definitely not the flashy all-boys private school Harry went to. Basically, seeing a Lambo wasn’t exactly the norm, ever.

Ally, Camila, and Dua step out of the car, and people start to lose interest. Despite Ally and Camila’s money-filled upbringing, neither of them are very popular. Ally is too genuine and introverted to care about popularity, and Camila is just… a nerd. She does Mathletes and the Interact club and she’s an officer of a handful of others, and though it looks stellar on college applications other people just mostly think she’s a nerd.

(Also, like she said before, most of the time she dresses like she’s twenty-five and an Instagram model, which is somehow not cool to anyone in real life under the age of eighteen. It’s actually really disappointing.)

She’s also pretty involved in theatre and drama- she’s been in the musical ever since freshman year. She loves drama, and choir, and pretty much anything where she gets to be on stage.

Ally is different in the way that she’s a literal piano prodigy- like, dear god, she’s amazing- and she’s also a star tennis player and is nationally ranked. Sure, they both play tennis, but Ally is an incredible player and Camila is only doing it so she has a sport on her college applications. She’s so uncoordinated and honestly pretty fucking awful at it.

They’re both involved in a lot of “lame” activites so they only have a few close friends, which would probably be lonelier if they didn’t have each other.

Camila always says she loves all of her siblings equally, which is true, for the most part. It’s just… she and Ally are each other’s ride or die. Always have been, always will be. They literally grew up side by side, doing everything together, because they don’t have the age gap they have with Harry or Shawn. They share everything: clothes, makeup, hair stuff, perfume, homework, books, food, music, secrets, and similar opinions on a lot of important topics, whether it be social or political. They’re absolute best friends- and yeah, sometimes people think it’s dumb that Camila’s best friend is her sister, but she’s not ashamed of it. They come as a team. You rarely ever will get one without the other.

They bicker occasionally, of course, as all siblings do, but they’ve never gone more than a day without speaking because they just can’t handle it. Who else are they going to trust with… everything?

Dua is Camila’s girlfriend, and she’s one of her closest friends. Perhaps her only close friend if you don’t count her family. But there are some things that Camila can’t tell her. Some things that she wouldn’t tell anyone voluntarily. The things that she stacks in the farthest corner of her brain, folded up and covered in dust. Dua doesn’t pry because she doesn’t even know they’re there- that’s how far back they’re hidden. They’re not talked about. It’s almost like if Camila pretends hard enough, they’re not even there, and never were in the first place.

Those are the things Camila would never tell anyone, and those are the things that Ally already knows.

-

After school, Camila and Ally have gratuitous two-hour tennis practices, and then Camila has to go straight to voice lessons and Ally has to go to piano lessons. Like everything else in the Cabello household, this is scheduled almost to a T: Camila and Ally change quickly in the locker room, then Ally drops Camila off at her voice lesson, then Ally drives herself to her piano lesson. Camila’s voice lesson finishes about fifteen minutes earlier than Ally’s flute lesson, so Harry, who is just getting off work by then, picks up Camila and drives to the Starbucks nearby.

Camila will get some sort of latte and Harry will get something unnecessarily strong considering it’s seven o’ clock in the evening. Ally meets them there and they help each other out with their homework before heading back home an hour and a half later.

They get their crazy time-management-obsessed genes from both their parents.

Speaking of which, when they get home, Alejandro is waiting for them with open arms.

“Ale!” Camila yells, bombarding her father with a hug. Harry and Ally quickly follow suit, and Shawn (a few minutes off their near-perfect schedule) bursts through the door and shouts, “You’re home!” Then an inevitable “ugh, I’m late!”

“How was Arizona?” Harry’s eyes are huge and interested- out of the four of them, he’s the most engrossed in Ale’s work, but Camila isn’t far behind.

“Fantastic. I love Arizona. If it wasn’t so inconvenient, you bet your asses we would be living there.”

Camila sees so much of herself in Ale. Everybody always tells her that they’re pretty much the same person.

“Don’t swear,” Ally reprimands, clicking her tongue disapprovingly- something she stole directly from their mother. Alejandro scrunches up his nose. “Oh, sorry. You bet your bottoms. Woo. Arizona. E for everyone.”

Camila and Harry crack up laughing in exactly the same way: large peals of hysterical, breath-catching laughter, where they double over and clap their hands a lot. Ally looks rightly miffed. Shawn looks surprised for a second, and then shakes his head and chuckles.

“So, what do you guys think about going to Cheesecake Factory for dinner?” Alejandro proposes. “They have some nice calamari. And really good bread. And cheesecake.”

“I’m down!” Camila grins like a Cheshire cat. Ally sighs and says, “Sure.” Harry and Shawn both agree with twin smiles. Then they return to their debate on whether the drinking age should be lowered from 21 or not- but that’s their thing, you know. Random debates. Camila doesn’t quite get the appeal.

They’re almost out the door when Alejandro’s phone starts to ring.

When he picks it up, Camila knows that it’s her mother on the phone, but from the way Alejandro’s lips are twisted, made to hide a smile, she can already tell that some dumb joke is coming.

“Offspring,” Alejandro announces dramatically, “your mom is on the phone. Please be little darlings and don’t tell her about the meth lab we built in the basement while she was gone. Or that we sold her rough drafts of her 2017-2018 winter collection or eBay to pay for it.” He smiles a fake saccharine smile.

Camila bursts out laughing. Ally squints at him and takes the phone. “I want a divorce,” sounds Sinu’s voice from the phone. Camila can tell she’s struggling to fight the exact same laugh Camila let loose seconds earlier.

“No,” Alejandro says.

“Well, screw you.”

“No, but kids get alcohol either way, right? It doesn’t matter if it’s legal.” Oh, that’s just Harry. Are they still talking about that?

“We don’t even have a basement?” Ally interrupts. “This is California? AKA earthquake land? That’s actually really dangerous?”

“Hi, Sinu!” Camila cheers.

“Hi, sweetheart. Thank you for keeping your father in line while I’m gone. I know he needs a whole lotta help.”

“What the fuck, babe?” Alejandro exclaims at the same time Ally protests, “I’m the one keeping him in line!” They look at each other and narrow their eyes with matching scowls. This isn’t over, Ally mouths. Alejandro makes a face at her.

“Don’t swear in front of the kids,” Sinu says. “That’s what I told him!” shouts Ally.

“I swear to god, Sinu, you are influencing our daughter too much.”

“Sinu, when are you coming home?” Shawn yells much louder than necessary. “We all miss you a lot,” Harry adds.

“Aw, I miss you guys too,” Sinu coos, voice softening. “I’m going to be home Wednesday night, but I promise I’ll call you guys once in the morning and once in the evening, okay? On schedule, like always.”

“Okay,” Camila and Ally say in unison. “Well, we gotta go, or Cheesecake Factory is going to close, so we’ll see you later?” Camila asks Sinu.

“Sounds good. I’m giving you a thumbs up but you can’t see it.” That’s classic Sinu, and Camila feels a rush of warmth for her mom- even though she’s not there in person she still seems like she’s all around.

“We love you!” the Cabello kids chorus as one, and Alejandro chuckles above them all. “I love you, honey,” he tells her.

“Love you too, Ale.” They can practically hear the fond smile in Sinu’s voice. “And I love all you guys. Don’t have too much fun without me. See you soon!”

The phone clicks off, and there’s a small silence: one for the millions of times it felt empty without their mother there, but quickly followed with the knowledge that she’d always be there for them, no matter what. And just the same, the quiet is filled with chatter about school and work and love and morals and philosophy and anything the five can think of, because they share the same blood, and they know it makes them feel better to let everything out through words.

Bottling it up never works. Camila knows it never works. She’s had so much- too much- experience with bottling up all of her emotions. It never leads to anything good. It never has in the past. But Camila tries not to think about the past too much.

It’s better now, anyway.

-

There is nothing Lauren loves more than her job.

She comes to this  conclusion when she’s backstage, waiting to perform, and Dinah won't  stop flicking the side of Normani’s head while Normani struggles to lace  up her knee-length heeled boots.

“Dinah, you annoying  little shit, stop it.” Normani shoots her a deadly glare and pokes  Dinah’s forehead with a single long acrylic nail. Dinah yelps, rubs her  forehead, and flips Normani off.

“If you don’t treat your  mama right, bye-bye, bye-bye.” Lauren mutters the lyrics of their song  “Lonely Night” under her breath. “If you got another chick on the side,  bye-bye, bye-bye.” Normani’s smooth, silky voice harmonizes perfectly  with her own.

“You look everywhere but  my eyes, bye-bye, bye-bye,” Normani chimes in. “It’s gonna be a lonely,  lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely night- bye-bye.”

The voice of their stage  manager, Corinna, comes through their in-ears. “Girls, you’re on in  fifteen. Make sure your clothes are good, okay? We don’t want another  situation like New Jersey to happen here.”

The three girls grimace  at the mention of New Jersey. They all like the state, but the last time  they were there Dinah had a little wardrobe malfunction (her tight bra  top came untied; nothing was revealed, but it was a close call) and  Lauren tripped three times (three. Three!) in her high-ass heels. The  heel part wasn’t the clothes’ fault, just Lauren’s for being clumsy. But  Corinna’s right to warn them. This is just prep for their upcoming  world tour, after all.

They’re currently  opening for Demi Lovato on her Tell Me You Love Me tour, and honestly  Lauren would probably be way more starstruck if Demi hadn’t been their  mentor on the X Factor, where they were discovered. She was such a great  teacher for them, and they actually became pretty good friends, so it  was a really cool full-circle kind of thing that they’re opening for her  tour now before they go on their own full world tour. And god, Lauren's  so excited.

Yes, of course, any tour is amazing, and opening for Demi has been such an incredible  opportunity for the three of them, but Lauren can’t wait for their own chance. Their first true world tour, displaying their first real album.

Now that the Tell Me You Love Me tour is coming to a close, Lauren thinks she has a pretty good  grasp on how everything works. They have a good team, a good designer, and amazing fans- they just have such a nice support system that Lauren never appreciated before this. But now she knows the importance of all those working parts coming together. And really, she couldn’t be happier about it.

Lauren turns to her bandmates. “Do I look okay?” She flips her dark hair, curled and pinned  back with bobby pins. Usually, she goes for a nude lip, but today she's  wearing red 'cause some fan accounts on Twitter said she looked good with it.

And she trusts her fans.

“Yeah, you look hot,"  Normani says, and she gives Lauren one of her overly flirtatious winks  so Lauren knows she really means it.

"Is my hickey covered?”

“Dinah, what the fuck?” Lauren is taken aback. “Who the fuck did you hook up with?”

“Watch your fucking language,” Normani tells her. Lauren looks at Dinah pointedly, waiting  for an answer., but Dinah looks away, blushing slightly. “I- uh- um,  never mind. I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

Lauren sighs and sinks  down into one of the plastic chairs in their dressing room. “God, even  you’re getting more action than me.”

Normani laughs. “If you really want some 'action’, Laur, I’m right here.”

“Ugh, that’s gross."  Lauren reaches for the tube of red lipstick and chucks it at Normani's  face. "I’m not a fucking lesbian. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

She misses the way Normani’s lips quirk down in annoyance and the slightly hurt look on Dinah’s face.

“Okay, cool it with the homophobia,” Normani mutters.

Lauren’s eyebrows crease. “I’m not homophobic. Dude- just because I’m not gay doesn’t mean I don’t like gay people.”

“Yeah, I know, I've  heard your Twitter rants, babe. I’m just saying a lot of the stuff you  say whenever people bring up you possibly being gay kind of sounds like  you doth protest too much.”

“I don’t-”

“You’re being a little defensive,” Dinah adds bluntly.

“I’m. Not. Gay.” Lauren gets it out through clenched teeth. “Can we just drop it?”

Normani throws her head  back and exhales. “Yeah, sure. Sorry, Laur. You know we just bug you  sometimes because we care about you, right?”

“Yeah.” Lauren softens at both Normani’s tone and Dinah’s irresistible puppy dog eyes. “I love you guys.”

Normani rolls her eyes. “Bring it in, bitch.”

The three of them come  together in a tight hug. Lauren, being the shortest, starts giggling at  getting caught under Dinah’s arm, and all of a sudden they’re all  cracking up and falling all over each other.

Lauren knows they disregard things too much. They sweep topics like Lauren's  over-defensive nature when it comes to… certain topics… under the  rug. But in the end, they’re a team, and they don’t let “petty” things-  things like that- come between them.

They would never survive in this industry if they did.

-

WATTPAD: seattlhe

[spntvdhunger]

Crossed wires

Imagine: Dean being angry all the time because he thinks you are into Sam. Full story!

Follow for more!

GIF NOT MINCE CREDIT TO OWNER

Pairings: Dean x reader / Sam (mentioned)

Warnings: Not really? Idk maybe a little fluff

Word count: 1673

A/N: As you probabbly already know, I love jealous Dean, so yeah... Also this is the first time I write from  character POV so let me know if you like it or not...

When you met the boys, you instantly had a special connection with Sam. You also were the youngest sibling, but in your case, your older sister died years ago while you were hunting. You spent a lot of time with him, laughing all the time and you even had special jokes that only you could understand.

And Dean… Well, that was different. You enjoyed his company, of course, but you felt completely different around him. With Sam, he was your best friend and you loved him like an older brother, but with the other Winchester… You couldn’t name the feelings you had. And maybe you were too afraid to accept you were falling for him.

Dean’s POV

Since we met Y/N, she had a special thing with Sam. She spent a lot of time with him, always together, always laughing and hell… They even had special jokes I could never get.

And without knowing or having control of it, I started to feel something for her. Of course, she’s beautiful, but she’s also a good damn huntress, she could take down the world if she wanted it and she makes me crazy without knowing it. And I was so jealous, yes, jealous of my own brother.

But how can I get mad at them? Sam needed a good girl for him and Y/N was amazing, unique and beautiful… But I wanted her for me. Shit, I hated myself for thinking that way.

Even Y/N has noticed me staring at them. “What’s wrong ‘grumpy’?” She always asked, making me smile but I never said anything… Sometimes I just invented a stupid excuse and she didn’t really care, so I was safe. And I preferred she thought I was always angry than figuring out I was actually jealous.

I’ve never say something to Sam or her, because if they really wanted to be together, who I was to stop them?

Sam and I were in the kitchen, having dinner when Y/N came out of the blue, dressing a nice short dress… Damn, she looked gorgeous. — Focus, Dean. — I said to myself and I looked at the fridge. “Hey, Sammy do you want to go dancing with me?” She asked. I raised my eyebrow. “Where?” Sam asked her. “In a club, obviously.” “I don’t know Y/N, I’m not in the mood.” She rolled her eyes and then looked at me. “And what about you?” “I don’t do dancing.” I grabbed my bottle of beer and take a sip. “Please? I really want to have a girl’s night out. I don’t have any girlfriends, you are the closest thing I have.” Sam laughed and I shook my head. “Only if you pay the drinks.” My brother finally agreed. “Yes!” She ran to Sam and grabbed his wrist. They didn’t even say me goodbye.

Again, something was pressing my stomach and I frowned my lips. — What am I doing? — I drank all my beer and then stood up, to reach them. I saw them entering to the Impala. Oh, Y/N wearing a cute dress, standing next to my baby, is there a better thing? “Hey, I thought you ‘didn’t do dancing.’” She said, trying to imitate my voice. “I don’t.” I defended myself. “You know who else doesn't do it? That guy.” I pointed to my brother. “If you think I’m losing the opportunity of laughing at him when he falls on the dancing floor, you are crazy.” She smiled and took the keys out of Sam’s hand. “I’m driving!” “Hell no.” I ran to her and snatched her the keys. “I don’t trust you.” She showed me her tongue and then entered to the back seat.

Sam looked at me and rolled his eyes. “What?” I asked him. “Nothing.” He shrugged and entered to the car too.

In just some minutes we arrived at the nightclub, we entered and got a place quite near the dancefloor. I could tell how excited Y/N was to be there, she had a huge smile that made her even prettier. We ordered some drinks and as soon as they arrived, we started to drink. “Okay, giant, let’s dance.” Y/N stood up and pulled Sam with her.

I stayed at my place, drinking while I saw them dancing. My brother was smiling and moving at her rhythm, he was holding her hands, occasionally making her spin. I frowned and stare at my beer. The same feeling was burning inside of me once more. Sam put his hands around her waist and moved with her, not caring about the other people around them.

I decided to look away and my sight caught a blonde girl standing next to the bar. She was the kind of girl I would get just by winking at her, she was the one night stand kind of girl, nothing like Y/N. But maybe that blonde could help me to forget her, or at least distract me for a while. Suddenly I heard Y/N calling me. Sam almost collapsed in the seat next to me. “Is your turn, handsome.” She said and she extended me her hand. “What?” “Or you prefer to go with that blonde?” I opened my mouth, but I didn’t know what to say. “C’mon, Dean, dance with me.” She insisted, I looked at my brother and he evaded me. “I’ll buy you some pie tomorrow.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m doing this for the pie.” She smiled. “And just one song.” “Yes!” I stood up and she pulled me to the dance floor, just like she did with my brother. I stood in front of her, not knowing what to do. She took my hands and moved my arms, moving her hips at the same time. I could see some sweat on her forehead because of the blue light. I’ve seen her in worse conditions, covered in blood, in mud, sweat, and hell she managed to look beautiful no matter what, but this time was different, she was having fun, and laughing with me. I slowly started to move with her, and that made her smile even more, but suddenly the song ended and another started a slow song. I took to steps back, but she grabbed me. “Don’t go.” She put a puppy face. “We didn’t even dance a whole song, please.” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know how to dance this.” I knew she would convince me, and she did. “I’ll show you.” She took my hand and led it to her waist. — Now, Dean, control yourself, don’t do anything stupid. — My legs were shaking, we’ve never been that close before. She placed her hands over my shoulders and moved to the sides, making me move with her. My heart rising. She looked up to me and smile again. And I looked her lips, Christ I want to kiss her so badly, taste those lips, bit them… “Dean!” She pulled apart and start laughing. “What? What?” “You stepped over me.” She went back to our table, limping, and making me feel bad for being a bad dancer. We drank a little bit more and then we decided to go back home, the high-volume music was hurting my ears. When we stood up Y/N took Sam’s arm, like always.   Once we arrived at the bunker, Y/N went straight to her room. “Okay, see you tomorrow.” Sam said as a goodbye. “Goodnight.” She smiled back and disappeared into the aisle. “Hey, Sam.” I called my brother, now was time to get things cleared, I’m not taking this anymore. “Yeah?” He looked confused. “Can I ask you something?” “Sure…” “I was seeing you back there with Y/N… And I don’t know… You two are a thing?” He broke into laughs. “Dude, of course not!” “What?” Now I was the confused one. “Y/N is my best friend, man. You know that, how did you think that?” I shrugged. “Well… I have eyes, I’ve seen how you two treat each other.” I came up with the best excuse I could think. “Wait a minute.” He raised an eyebrow. “You like her, don’t you?” “Ah… Me? Pff… No.” I crossed my arms and shook my head. I looked back at my brother and of course, he knew I was lying. “So that’s why you’ve been acting like a weirdo these last months… You thought she liked me.” I was getting annoyed, I wasn’t the type of guy who talked about girls with his brother. “Well, I’m sure I’m not the only one who thinks that.” He smiled like he was enjoying seeing me that way. “Dean, she’s like a sister to me. If you like her just go and tell her.” “Good talk, Sammy.” I just wanted to end that embarrassing conversation. I headed to my room, but I bump into Y/N while I was walking. I apologized to her and then went back in my way, but she called me. “Dean…” She murmured. “Yes?” I turned and she approached. “Sorry… But I overheard your conversation with Sam.” My jaw clenched. I’ve never felt more stupid and embarrassed in my life. “Is that true?” “What?” “That you like me.” I sighed. I didn’t want to tell her. I nodded, completely defeated. “I like you too, Dean.” I looked at her. “I think you knew. I was being too obvious.” “I’m a man, Y/N the ‘obvious’ is not that obvious to me.” She laughed. “Yeah, I can see that. I think I have to be direct from now on.” She got closer and place her right hand on my cheek. I didn’t think it twice, I leaned and kissed her. Her arms wrapped my neck and she stood at the tip of her toes, in an attempt of getting closer. God, she tasted good. “Yeah, that direct.” She whispered over my lips. I bent down to take her legs and I carried her in my arms. She laughed and reached to kiss my cheek. “What are you doing?” “I want to show you how much I like you, sweetheart.”

DEAN’S TAGS: @belparsons @hufflepuff4eva @justalwaystired @sisterwinchesterwriter

FOREVER TAGS: @strawberryjuiceboxxx @shut-ur-face-and-get-in-the-car

[shamelessly4shameless-blog]

The Sand In Your Shoe (pt 15)

Watching Mickey and Mandy serve customers is a bit like watching kids play shop with plastic cans of beans, pretend money and no clue about the service industry. They are haphazard, their manner toward customers is as far from compliant as it is possible to get but their shot pouring is often generous to the point of lunacy and the customers keep coming.

The clientele is mostly young people but Mickey is scrupulous with ID checking, he can’t afford to get into any sort of legal mix up with the police if a fifteen year old gets taken to the ER with alcohol poisoning. He doesn’t seem to mind them hanging out though as long as no one is causing trouble and everyone is buying something.

Ian starts off just sitting back and watching but after a while the place starts to fill up and he begins to help Juan clear the tables and serve up nachos and fries from the kitchen – the two items on the food menu.

“You don’t got to help me, man. I got it.”

Juan glances awkwardly at Mickey and then back to Ian

“I don’t mind helping out.”

Ian smiles and Juan shrugs. He doesn’t mind having the help as long as Mickey doesn’t think he’s slacking off.

*

Ian is doing his third or fourth sweep of the room when he sees a couple of kids topping up their cola with vodka from a bottle under the table and turns to see if anyone else has noticed only to find Mickey staring straight at them.

“Should I say something?”

Ian asks, leaning across the bar to be heard over the music. Mickey pushes his tongue into his cheek considering. He’s changed into a black button down shirt and dark jeans, Ian is having a hard time concentrating on anything besides the way Mickey’s shoulders stretch the fabric, and is absurdly jealous of the belt slung low round his hips.

“Nah. They ordered food earlier and this is their third soft drink. Let ‘em have this one and I’ll bust them if they do it again next round.”

Mickey nods to the washing bowl of dishes in Ian’s hands

“You know Juan can take care of that right?”

“Yeah but I like to help. Makes me feel useful.”

Ian grins and Mickey shrugs, happy as long as Ian is happy.

“Okay but you know … Jesus Christ! What the fuck is this …”

Mickey breaks off, turning to glare at a young man who is banging on the bar for service

“Do that again and I’ll shove the next shitty martini you order up your ass.”

The young man is momentarily stunned and then frowns over his glasses at Mickey.

“You’re the one making them! If they’re shitty, that’s on you.”

“If they’re shitty it’s because they’re a shitty drink. Try this instead.”

Mickey pours a half-shot of tequila and puts it in front of him

“One hundred pesos for this or two hundred for a martini.”

“Dude! It’s not even a full shot!

“Because you’re already in full asshole mode. Don’t bang on my bar for attention again if you like your hands attached to your body”

The guy grudgingly hands over the money and Mickey finally releases him from the glare he has been withering under since the exchange began. Ian feels a little for the glasses-guy but watching the exchange was seriously hot! He is almost desperate to kiss Mickey but isn’t sure how okay that is in front of a bar full of people. His hesitance isn’t even about the possibility of Mickey having one foot still in the closet. He clearly lives an out and proud life here, but he always hated public displays of affection and even when he and Ian were an acknowledged couple back in Chicago, Mickey tended to shy away from his touch if there was an audience. Ian hovers undecided for a moment and it is a moment too long because Mickey is already moving down the bar taking next orders.

*

Mandy and Juan are so obviously an item that Ian can’t believe Mickey doesn’t seem to know. The sly little touches and lingering looks that fly between them would be cringe worthy if they were not clearly in love.

As the initial early evening rush subsides at around nine and Ian sidles over to her and whispers

“Mandy and Juan sitting in a tree …”

She grins and presses a finger to her lips.

“Oh c’mon, you don’t really think Mickey is going to mind do you?”

“No, but Juan feels weird about dating the Boss’s sister so we’re on the down low.”

She wraps a length of hair around her finger, her darkly lined eyes already slipping from Ian’s face searching for her boyfriend.

“Tell me about it later?”

Ian asks and Mandy nods, shooing him away impatiently. Mickey’s own gaze is raking the bar in search of Ian and he can’t help but smile at how similar the Milkovich siblings are in subtle little ways.

“Hey!”

Mickey’s slight frown instantly clears as he spots Ian’s read hair bobbing toward him and he pours four shots of top shelf tequila.

“It always gets a little quiet now, the shack down the road sells churros and when they close up the old guy who runs it practically gives the days left overs away.”

“Cool.”

Ian accepts the drink and smiles as Mickey delivers Juan and Mandy their shot before having his own. Mickey would never admit it but he is something of a natural leader. Ian can see why Juan so casually calls him ‘Boss’, in this place that is exactly what he is and Ian loves it.

“Yeah, nice guy. He likes us cause we sorted some trouble he was having a little while ago so he makes sure to send everyone back here once the free grub is gone.”

“Trouble?”

“Yeah – no biggy. Some kids havin’ fun. I suggested they might take it elsewhere and they did.”

The calm, authoritative tone that is no doubt the front to a story that involves far more than a suggestion does things to Ian that make him squirm on the barstool uncomfortably. Mickey glances down at Ian’s lap and his tongue pokes into the corner of his mouth, a brief flash of pink against the tan of his cheek.

He turns in that lazy, wide armed way that Ian loves so much and the air frizzes around them with kinetic energy. Ian is half way out of his seat when Mandy dumps herself onto his lap, pushing him back down.

“Ian, do you want to go try a churro? They’re really good.”

Mandy hands Mickey back her glass and strokes Ian’s arm, her nails digging in slightly and he nods obediently.

“Yeah sure. Mick, should I bring you one back?”

“Nah. Gotta watch my figure.”

Mickey grins and slaps his flat belly lightly. Mickey cocks his head to the side and gives Ian the briefest of winks, stealing a moment of gentle intimacy from the humming bar, and then looks past him.

“Hey! You two! Yeah that’s right, Thelma and Louise, I see you over there. This ain’t a BYOB party. You want vodka? Get some older friends to buy it for you from my bar or scram.”

The girls Ian noticed earlier both giggle and hastily gulp down their drinks before sliding out of the booth.

“Ugh. Those two are in here all the time. They can’t get enough of Mickey telling them off.”

Mandy stands up and scowls after them as they dash out with shy little waves

“Really?”

Ian raises an eyebrow at Mickey who shrugs and grins a little bashfully and begins taking glasses out of the dishwasher, wiping them on the cloth, which seems to live over his left shoulder from the second the bar opens.

“Yeah, they might have a little crush goin’ on. Harmless though and not a fuckin’ word of English.”

“Then why …?”

Ian begins and Mandy collapses dramatically against him, fluttering her eyelids and pouting.

“It’s his big, pretty blue eyes and bad boy growly voice.”

Mickey salutes her with his middle finger but Ian thinks he looks positively smug about the whole thing.

“Should I get myself a sexy school girl outfit?”

He teases, arching both brows suggestively

“Ew. No. Don’t even joke about that shit. If I want you to play dress up, I’ll get you a suit I can rip off.”

Mickey wrinkles his nose disdainfully as Mandy grimaces and tugs Ian toward the door.

“So gross. Later, Romeo!”

She calls over her shoulder and Mickey rolls his eyes, drying another glass.

“She’s a dick. No wonder she’s single as fuck.”

He gives Juan a little half-smile and poor Juan nods as if his life depends on it.

*

“So? Juan?”

“So? Mickey?”

Mandy counters and Ian huffs an amused sigh

“I’ve been here less than twenty-four hours and made him talk about his feelings twice.”

“Well you’re still alive after that so I guess you have any other answer you need.”

“Funnily enough I think he feels the same.”

Ian laughs squeezing her arm and slows his stride so that Mandy doesn’t have to skip to keep up.

“He seems different though. Gentler, you know?”

“Yeah he is. I think it’s cause he feels safe here. It’s his place, his space and no one bothers him.”

“You think I’ll fit in?”

“Of course you will! Even if you didn’t fit, Mickey would kick the fuckin’ walls in to make space for you.”

Mandy nudges Ian gently in the side with her elbow and he gives her a wonky smile.

“I think I freaked him out earlier.”

Ian tells Mandy about his mini-meltdown on the beach and she listens with complete non-judgmental sympathy.

“Don’t worry about it. You could have spaced the crazy out a little for him but you guys always seem to do everything all in.”

“I guess. I mean I think it’s fine. We fooled around afterwards, not like that … I mean yeah that too but …”

“Please! Ian, stop!”

Mandy laughs.

She asks about Lip, Debbie … all of the Gallagher’s and Ian tells her what he knows, which he realises is not really all that much anymore. Ian rolls his shoulders before changing the subject.

“Ok, seriously I need to hear about Juan?”

“Juan is a sweetie. Like, sometimes he’s too sweet. Keeps talking about marriage and babies and blah!”

“Sounds like he’s smart enough to see what a catch you are.”

Ian nods approvingly and Mandy bobs her head a little shyly

“He treats me right. Doesn’t yell at me, doesn’t hit me, makes sure I cum first.”

“Shit! He’s a better boyfriend than I am.”

“Ew. Gross.”

“How is my sex gross and yours is fine?”

“Yours is with my brother.”

Mandy thumps his arm lightly and Ian switches the subject back a bit.

“How long have you guys been together?”

“Just over a year.”

“Wow! Serious then?”

“It is. We are.”

Mandy is radiating happiness and Ian wraps an arm around her shoulder hugging her tightly and pressing a kiss to her head.

“Do you think you’d marry him?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Marriage is basically agreeing to put up with someone elses shit for the rest of your life and having to give them half your stuff if you bail.”

“Jeez Mandy! So romantic!”

“Well that’s what it is! And before that is was a way of a transferring a woman from being her father’s property to being some other assholes. It isn’t really a romantic idea.”

Ian glances down at her a little shocked and Mandy sticks her tongue out

“Okay, so fine. Would you get married?”

“Yeah. Maybe. I guess one day.”

“Milkovich or Gallagher?”

“Gallavich?”

Ian laughs and Mandy pauses mid-stride considering this.

“That could work. Milkovich is probably fucked with Mickey’s situation and who would even want to label themselves as part of our shit-show of a family anyway?”

“Gallagher isn’t much better. What is Juan’s surname?”

“Sanchez.”

“Be more Mexican?”

Ian grins and Mandy punches him again, a little harder

“I like it. Mandy Sanchez sounds cool.”

“Yeah it does.”

Ian agrees and then hangs back as Mandy bounces up to the window of the churro stand and waits for her to come back with one of the sweet little pastries and as they walk back to the bar, she shows him the photos she captured on the beach. Ian chooses his favourites and Mandy sends them over. By the time they get back, Ian has a new phone wallpaper and is smiling broadly.

*

The final couple of guys stagger out of Galagers just after 1am. The place is cleaner than usual thanks to Ian helping out and Mickey, cigarette already dangling from his lip, tells them all the call it a night, they’ll clean up properly tomorrow.

Juan says he feels like getting a little high and invites them all back to his place. Mandy pretends to think about it and then nods. Mickey declines slips and arm around Ian’s waist, gliding his hand discreetly under the sweaty fabric of Ian’s t-shirt.

“Cool, laters amigos!”

The second the door closes behind Juan and Mandy, Mickey’s lips meet Ian’s with bruising force. Ian grabs Mickey’s denim-clad ass firmly and lifts him up, practically throwing him onto the bar top and running his hands from Mickey’s knees to his hips, hard.

“God! You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do that all night.”

“Yeah?”

Mickey smirks and wraps a leg around Ian, pulling him in with a heel in the crack of his ass.

“Mmhmm. Watching you strut up and down, running that smart-mouth at everyone …”

Ian takes Mickey’s cigarette from his mouth and puts it in his own drawing deep, lightly dragging at Mickey’s lip with the pad of his index finger as exhaled smoke curls down over it. The corners of Mickey’s mouth turn up at the way Ian’s eyes follow the movement.

“You like it when I run my mouth?”

Ian nods, crushes the cigarette under his heel and ducks his head, lightly kisses along Mickey’s lower lip.

“I like everything your mouth does.”

A very fine shudder runs through Mickey, happiness and lust sending his nerves skittering across each other. He always loved it when Ian would get like this, a little imposing, putting himself firmly in Mickey’s personal space and turning it into his own. Making it so that even the breath in Mickey’s lungs might actually belong to Ian, and if he demanded it, Mickey would have no choice but to surrender that too and suffocate beneath the fierce green gaze.

In a way that Mickey cannot possibly begin to explain, the more domineering Ian gets, the safer Mickey feels and to just give every ounce of himself over to Ian to do with what he will. In a very specific way, to be controlled is to be free in Mickey’s world.

Perhaps that is what makes him still Ian’s exploring hands and look up at him from beneath shyly lowered lashes.

“You mind if we wait a minute?”

“Really?”

Ian removes his lips from Mickey’s throat immediately but doesn’t relinquish his hold on his waist.

“I just … I want you to see something. It won’t take long.”

Mickey hops down from where Ian put him and catches his hand, leaving Ian no choice but to follow as Mickey leads him toward the door.

They step outside and Mickey stops abruptly. With his black hair and dark clothes he effectively blends into the darkness and Ian squeezes his fingers tightly to make sure he doesn’t let go. The fierce heat of the day has been replaced with a refreshing chill and Ian shivers slightly, though he is glad of the change.

“Close your eyes.”

“It’s fricken’ night time Mick. I’m basically blind already.”

“C’mon, don’t be a dick.”

Ian laughs but obligingly does as he is told. Mickey doesn’t often do things like this but Ian adores it when he does, so he tries to be extra cooperative in the hope of inspiring more little surprise moments.

“Don’t look until I say, okay?”

“Okay.”

Ian doesn’t need to have his eyes open to know that Mickey is peering up at him trying to make sure he is being obeyed.

“They’re closed, Mick!”

Ian hears a satisfied grunt and grins into the darkness. Mickey’s hands guide him down the steps and onto the beach, Ian is a little wobbly on the sand as they get closer to the sea and the ridges become deeper. His shoes are filling up and he makes a mental note to buy flipflops tomorrow.

“OK, I got you, sit down, don’t look.”

Ian sits as gracefully as he can and almost breaks his promise as he feels Mickey sit down behind him, settling Ian snuggly between his knees and urging him to lie backwards until Ian’s head comes to rest on his chest.

“Ready?”

“Um … yeah?”

“OK, Go ahead and open ‘em.”

Ian blinks and then his jaw drops. The entire galaxy is spread above them, a swirling chaotic mass of stars shining brilliantly in the blackness.

“Holy shit!”

His voice is barely above a whisper and he feels the resulting chuckle reverberate in the chest behind his head a split second before he hears it.

“Cool, huh? Blew my fuckin’ mind the first time I came out here.”

There is the sound of a lighter, the brief scent of burning paper and then the sweet smell of marijuana floats down to Ian. His head bobs as Mickey’s chest expands and then releases and cool fingers brush against Ian’s lips offering him the joint.

Mickey’s other arm is wrapped around Ian’s chest, not stroking, just keeping him close. Ian reaches back and carefully tuck a stray lock of hair back behind Mickey’s ear, caressing from helix to lobe.

“What a difference a day makes, huh?”

Ian whispers, smiling and there is an answering smile in Mickey’s voice.

“No shit. When I saw you this morning …”

The joint is withdrawn from Ian’s lips as Mickey trails off and Ian sees the tip grow suddenly bright as Mickey turns his head and inhales.

“It was weird right? Like, I don’t even know how I got from the steps to you. I sort of blacked out.”

“You fuckin’ tripped down three of them and then took a running dive at me.”

Ian nods, it might be the pot but this actually sounds like exactly what he thought happened.

“I was fuckin’ terrified you were I thought you might hit me.”

Mickey’s hand tightens involuntarily as he shakes his head

“I wanted to kiss you so badly … thought I was gonna fuckin’ cry or some gay shit.”

Ian cracks up and after a seconds pause Mickey is laughing too and the laughter builds until Ian can’t breathe and Mickey is coughing a lung up.

“Fuck off, you know what I mean.”

This sets them both off again and Ian retrieves the smoke, taking another drag.

“What were you saying to me? When you had your face in my chest?”

“Huh?”

“You kept saying something but I couldn’t hear it.”

“Ah … I don’t …”

“Don’t say you don’t remember!”

Ian tries to sit up and Mickey makes an affronted noise and quickly pulls him back down.

“Alright, alright. I … I was saying I knew you’d come. It was corny as fuck but you kinda shocked me just showing up. I think I lost my mind a bit.”

Ian reaches beneath Mickey’s leg and toys with the firm curve of his ass cheek.

“Did you really know?”

“I figured one day… yeah. I hoped so anyway.”

Mickey shrugs and the doobie is exchanged again. His free hand drops away from Ian’s chest, giving him a little more room. He is more than willing to have Ian touch him however he wants as long as he doesn’t try and move.

“I tried to forget you.”

“Yeah, I figured that too.”

There is no hurt in Mickey’s voice and Ian marvels at it. If Mickey said such a thing to him, he would probably fall apart again.

Fingers stroke gently through Ian’s hair and he looks up, not at the miraculous sky above but at the smooth curve of Mickey’s jaw, pale and almost silver in the starlight.

“How the fuck did I get so lucky to find you?”

“My sister blabbed.”

“I mean … like, in life?”

Ian grins but manages to fight down the next round of giggles.

“You’re so great Mick. You accept me better than even my own family and even after years apart, you’re just like … there! You’re just right there.”

“Okay, no more of this for you…”

Mickey jokes and licks his thumb and forefinger before pinching the thinning end of their smoke.

“I’m being serious. I rock up and cry all over you, I freak out and get pissed at you and you still show me the stars! Why are you like this with me?”

Ian traces the jaw he can’t stop staring at with the back of his hand. Slim fingers close around his and Mickey dips his head to kiss Ian’s fingertips.

“You set me free, man. I don’t know what I … I mean, really, without you, I’d have probably killed myself or done something crazy. I was in the fucking gutter, crawling out of my skin but you showed me I was okay. You made me okay, Ian.”

They sit silently for a little while then, looking up at the stars, both of them well aware that they are not in the fucking gutter anymore.

At some point Ian stands, repositioning himself behind Mickey and gently pulling him close, kissing the black silk of his hair. They share another joint and Mickey has a cigarette as well. They swap softly spoken stories, painting the years for each other, drawing honest pictures and occasionally pausing to kiss or whatever else is needed for reassurance. Eventually the sky begins to turn from inky black to navy and patches of indigo begin to appear toward the horizon.

Mickey huffs a gently sigh and rolls his neck. Ian stands and gently pulls him to his feet.

“Home?”

“Yeah.”

[himbowelsh]

I've just read your dancing Babe and it's all kinds of perfect and I'm not ready to let go of dancing troupe. Soo prompt for Webgott: Wedding in Lieb's family. Web is his +1. Lieb never seen Web "normal" dancing before. Only the drunk flailing. He expects Web to be kinda awkward and stiff, because Web is kinda awkward. Only to be totally surprised, because Web is amazing dancer and he dances hell out of all Joe's sisters, they all love him and he kills dance floor with Joe's Ma, she's a pro.

Anonymous asked: I cannot not request prompt or headcanon for Webgott and “Liebgott has a gaggle of sisters who terrorize him” when Web meets Lieb’s family. He sees Lieb’s sisters teasing and riling their baby bro and he finally gets it. That’s where he got his sharp wit and his fighty personality.

AN: well, come on, I’ve gotta combine these two, these prompts are perfect for each other!

“Oh my goodness, you’re adorable.”

The very tall, very buxom woman says this two seconds before squeezing David to her chest like some durable plush toy. The next thing David knows he’s struggling to breathe past the crush of breasts, and manicured hands have a vice grip on his shoulder blades. It would be a lot more pleasant were he not: a) gay, and b) two seconds away from being smothered by his boyfriend’s sister.

“Jesus, Sarah, lighten up! You trying to kill him or something?”

Just as quickly as he was pulled forward, David is tugged back into the safety of Joe’s arms. He heaves a lungful of air as Joe pats him down, as if he’s worried his older sister has transferred something contagious to him. Joe is scowling; this isn’t abnormal. He’s been scowling all day long, from the moment they set out on the road to when they pulled in the driveway of Joe’s mother’s cute suburban home.

This is not Joe’s childhood house. As soon as her last kid moved out, Judith Liebgott moved out, bought a one-bedroom near the beach, got herself a convertible, a lapdog, and a rich boyfriend fifteen years her junior. David’s traditional family upbringing is scandalized; the rest of him admires Mrs. Liebgott’s moxie.

So he can understand who Joe wouldn’t be so happy to be attending his own mother’s wedding, but he at least could try to act like it around his family. From what David’s heard of Joe’s sisters, they’re all a very close-knit bunch. They’re bound to notice something’s wrong with their little brother in a second.

Sarah Liebgott has her brother’s smirk – thin, sharp, and dangerous. “Aww, Joe, I’m just teasing. He’s adorable. You weren’t lying when you said he looks like a model.”

“You said that?”

“No!” Joe retorts, cheeks flaring. It’s the most adorable thing David has ever seen.

“Aww, Joey, don’t be shy!” An equally tall women with a thick brunette ponytail comes up and throws an arm around Joe’s shoulders, pulling him against her. Behind her, two other Liebgott sisters come striding up, wearing matching sadistic grins. David isn’t sure what’s more amazing; the realization that Joe is the shortest of his siblings or the fact that his older sisters all seem to share his wicked sense of humor. 

“Look at you!” exclaims one of his sisters as she pinches his ribs. “You look even skinner than before! Don’t you eat?”

“Yeah, probably all crap. You know how his diet works. You still eat poptarts raw, bro?”

“Mom is going to kill you when she sees you, Jo-Jo! You look like you haven’t slept in weeks!”

“You look like a zombie.”

“It’s an improvement, to be honest.”

Joe hisses, bristling like a disgruntled cat under his sisters’ intrusive comments and touches. Crossing his arms, David watches the chaos unfold, unable to keep a smile off his face. He feels like he’s discovering an entire missing chunk to the puzzle that is his boyfriend. So this is where Joe got his firey nature from; growing up in a family like this, he needed thick skin.

“Jesus, Amy, stop with the hair!” Joe whines, twisting out of his sisters’ grips. “Becky, come on, get out of here – hey, Sarah, knock it off!”

Oh, this is going to be the best trip ever.

The actual wedding takes place in a week; the days leading up to it are jammed with preparations, planning, and organization. Some people, like Joe’s oldest sister Sarah, thrive in this environment. Others – like Joe himself – chafe under the closely-packed schedule that leaves him with limited room to breathe.He rebels in whatever ways he can, whether it’s picking petty arguments with his sisters over dinner or sneaking off when the rest of the family is busy. He winds up sneaking off a lot – usually he takes David with him.“If the two of you have sex in one more dressing room, we’re leaving you in the store,” Joe’s mother announces on their way home from tuxedo rentals. David’s cheeks flush a brilliant red that makes him look a bit like a cherry. In the rearview mirror, Mrs. Liebgott shoots them both a crimson-lipped smirk.“I don’t know if you think you’re subtle, honey, but your shirt is on backwards. Fix your hair, too.”“You have a scratch right –”  Joe’s third sister, long-haired Amy, drags out the vowel as she reaches over to tap David’s exposed collarbone. “Here. Joe, you’re a monster.”“I’ve seen what you do to your boyfriends. You’re lucky there’s ever anything left of ‘em.”“If they die, they die happily,” Amy sniffs, turning her attention back to her phone. “He looks uncomfortable. What, did you forget the aftercare?”David shifts in his seat, closing his eyes as he prays for death. Next to him, Joe aims a kick at his sister’s shin which quickly turns into an all-out fight, complete with screaming, slapping, and David caught in the middle.Mrs. Liebgott continues to drive on like there’s no problem. In the passenger’s seat, Joe’s second sister Rebecca turns up the radio to drown out the chaos.

By the time the wedding finally comes, it couldn’t be more welcome.

That’s coming from Joe, who wasn’t thrilled about this whole thing in the first place. Who could blame him? His mom is marrying a goddamn rich kid barely out of his frat boy days, who’s better suited to riding sports cars and living off his daddy’s savings. Bentley (his name is goddamn Bentley) is pretty, unassertive, and stupid-in-love with Joe’s mom. If that last point wasn’t so obvious, Joe would be against this union altogether.As it stands, he won’t begrudge his mother her happiness. She’s earned it, spending a lifetime raising four nightmares.A hell of a lot of stuff goes on at a Jewish wedding, but dancing is always one of the highlights of the night. Joe does his best to abstain from any of the traditional dances (it brings back bad memories of his Hebrew school days). To his surprise, however, his boyfriend doesn’t follow his example.

He’ll admit that he’s never seen Webster dance before. Sure, he’s seen him dance -- at various parties, half-drunk out of his mind, free of inhibition and coordination. Most of those moments involved Joe reeling his boyfriend back from doing anything more embarrassing; he could handle a bit of drunk grinding if it kept Web from canon-balling into the pool from the roof.

So he’s seen Web dance, but he’s never seen him dance. Joe’s not sure what he expected, but this... isn’t it.

Webster does a complicated twist, swinging Amy under his arms. Joe’s sister shrieks out a laugh, hair flying free behind her as she twirls with her partner. Once she’s back in Webster’s arms, he lifts her off her feet and twirls her across the floor as if she weighs no more than a ragdoll.

Joe watches from the sidelines, arms crossed. He’s not glaring -- he sure as hell isn’t glaring, because being jealous of his boyfriend and his sister would be ridiculous -- but he’s not please that Web is showing Amy the time of her life. If Webster should be sweeping anyone off their feet, it’s him -- and Joe never imagined that thought would pass through his head.

He’s able to insist he’s not jealous right up until his second sister, Becky, is in Web’s arms. Becky is an athlete, and she’s got the moves to match; but Web keeps up with her step for step, moving to the rolicking beat with a fluidity that makes Joe feel a bit warm. He can’t help fixating on the brightness of Web’s smile, the light sheen of sweat across his brow, the sway of his hips in those tight tight pants...

He downs another glass of champagne and turns away until the song ends.

It doesn’t end there. Next up is Sarah, with her mop of curls, and her flirting that isn’t at all subtle. She’s like that with everyone, but Joe’s sure he’s going to storm out onto the floor and throttle his sister right then and there. It’s a slower song, and very close. Her hand lingers on Web’s chest, and his grip on her hip looks too firm, too self-assured. Joe swallows down the lump of jealousy building in his throat. Forcing himself to breathe is a challenge, but he somehow manages. Sarah is shameless about a lot, but she wouldn’t try anything with Joe’s boyfriend -- Web wouldn’t let her anyhow. That doesn’t mean Joe’s happy about it.

By the time Sarah breezes off -- leaving a bright red lip print on Web’s cheek, because of course -- Joe is more than ready to step in. He catches Web’s eyes from across the floor, and his boyfriend offers him a bright smile. Joe starts to move. Before he can reach him, however, another set of hands grab Webster and sweep him into the next dance.

Joe swallows back the curse on his lips when he realizes Web is dancing with the bride. Of course his mom would want a crack at Web -- he’s the best dancer here. She used to be a Rockette, for christ’s sake; it he can keep up with her, he can keep up with anyone.

Web’s damn good, even up against the formidable partner that is Joe’s mother. She’s dancing in a wedding dress and heels, so he’s able to keep up with her. The pair still outshines every other couple on the floor by miles. Web spins, twirls, and dips with a grace that draws every eye in the room to them, and Joe’s mother matches him step-to-step. They’re a dazzling sight; even Joe can’t look away, though he’s sure his fixation is more the result of Webster’s moves than his mother’s skill.

By the time the song ends, they’re both flush-faced and grinning. Joe’s mother cups Web’s chin in her hand and murmurs something, too low for Joe to hear. Both their gazes drift towards him; he goes still, realizing they’re talking about him. His mother winks before breezing off (probably back to fuckin’ Bentley) and Webster is left alone.

He’s panting heavily, and looks ready to drop -- but if he can dance like that, he can manage one last slow song. As the first strains of a violin melody pick up, Joe finally reaches his boyfriend, and catches Webster in his arms before he can protest.

“Can I have this dance?” he murmurs in Webster’s ear.

His boyfriend looks up at him and grins bright enough to rival the moon. “I’ve been waiting all night.”

[minnieyooniesyubbie]

At what age do I get to start being my own person? At what age do I have be to be able to hang out and be with whoever I choose? Because I'm starting to think that some parents don't give a fuck how old you are, they just think they can control your every move. And why tf is it just me?? Why tf aren't my other siblings getting fucking grilled about who they choose to fuck?? Even when they were living under "your roof" they didn't get interrogated almost every day. Even though my 18 year old sister was dating a 25 year old man, which I honestly don't see a problem with, but I a 21 year old woman can't date 26 year old man???? Without it being irresponsible??? Why does my choice of dick make anyone look stupid?? Why can't I sit with a man and it be okay? Why does everything I do have to reflect on you?? Why not my sister??? Why not my brother??? Both of their fucking significant others are quite toxic "don't look at her" "you can't watch this bc it has a sex scene" "why were you looking in that man's direction??" I mean at least my dude isn't a toxic peice of shit. At least he doesn't try to control my every move. At least I can go somewhere without him tagging along or texting and calling every two fucking seconds. Why doesn't their jealous pompous s.o. get judged for being younger or older? Why don't they get trash talked?? Why didn't you answer their phone call and tell them that they can't see my sister or brother??? Why do I have to be the fucking target?? I mean, I swear to the holy fucking christ that you're gonna keep on pushing me and pushing me and when I finally fucking leave I'm not coming back. You make me feel like I'm unwanted enough and I'll stop letting you make me feel like that. You keep treating me like I'm a child and you won't have one anymore. "Best friend" right? I guess that only applies to when I'm getting you stuff or when you want something.

[1959black]

tagged by @ginnyweasiee <3

RULES: Copy this post into a new text post, remove my answers and put in yours. When you are done, tag up to 5 people and also tag the person who tagged you… and most importantly, have fun!

Age: 18

Biggest fear: sharks/the ocean/water

Current time: 00:03 am

Drink you last had: water

Everyday starts with: stretching, drinking and peeing; the holy trinity 

Favourite song at the moment: idk maybe these girls by sticky fingers

Hometown: teeny-tiny town right outside of oslo in norway

In love with: jesus christ my lord and savior 

Jealous of: my cats every time i have to get out of bed and they dont 

Killed someone: every day by being annoying

Last time you cried: can't remember actually but the cm ep. i watched on thursday would’ve 100% made me cry if i wasn't in public , oh but i also cried of laughter multiple times last weekend but idk if that counts??

Middle name: i don’t have one actually

Siblings: an older brother

One wish: a job or world peace, either is good 

Person you last text/called: my best friend called

Questions you’re always asked: mostly where my clothes are from i guess idk i can't think about anything else, i’ve been asked about one of my denim jackets too many times i’m basically walking advertisement for asos by this point , oh and also if my hair is dyed (its not)

Reason to smile: like literally almost everything ?? 

Song last sung: can't remember but my friend and i did a beautiful hsm duet when she was here earlier so that was probs the last

Time you woke up: around 07:20 i think

Worst habits: interrupting people when they speak but this is only sometiiimes

X-Ray you’ve had: none

Favourite food: pizza, burger or anything taco related

Zodiac sign: capricorn

i’m tagging my newest mutuals <3 : @phoenixfaelicis, @hogwartsisinfinite, @moony-padfoot, @misxief-managed & @katas320

[thebeckychronicles]

Caretaker Letters- Maha

So, how do I start this?

Jenni asked me to write a post for her blog about what it’s been like for me as her mentor, friend (daresay also adopted older sister?) during her journey. This post makes me nervous for two reasons. First, Jenni is a phenomenal writer and we are all just subpar to her. Second, I will share things- that she does not know (Hi Jenni!).

But let me back up, before we get to all of this. I need to set the scene. The backstory if you will.  The first time I met Jenni, she was an eighth grader. At that time, I was a wide-eyed youth organizer at OneAmerica and had put together a gathering to watch the Senate Vote on the Dream Act. Jenni and Carlos (her brother) came – wide-eyed as well to watch the vote because they heard about it through a FB event. While that day was sad, everyone in that room left with a sense of community and purpose. Fast forward a few months and I find myself contacting Carlos and Jenni. As they got more engaged, they started to earn a new nickname: The Dynamic Duo. Carlos and Jenni never said no to any event, and they always found their way around obstacles. Neither sibling drove, but they still managed to trek their way from Redmond to Seattle on a regular basis to participate in forums, meetings, and planning retreats. And that’s how we became friends. Over the years, I watched Jenni fearlessly confront the Speaker of the House (John Boehner), I watched her tell a State Senator she will organize a campaign against him if he doesn’t vote on the Washington State Dream Act. But that’s not what made us close, it was the long car rides home filled with laughter, in depth conversations and trust. Eventually I stopped seeing them as only as the Dynamic Duo but saw them as two amazing individuals full of great attributes and drive. I loved Carlos and his whimsical art and snark. I loved Jenni for the wisdom beyond her years and at the same time was insanely jealous of her writing skills and vocabulary that surpassed her age. When I moved jobs, the relationship with the Martinez siblings stayed. I also got to meet the rest of this beautiful family and have had the privilege to be invited in their home.

Jenni always would tell me, I was her reality-check. Apparently, I always keep it 100 and can handle her bluntness. I’m her ‘Mama’ Maha who gives it to her when necessary, but then takes her out to eat or for a pedicure after. I also apparently have an answer for everything (case in point- random texts with questions I have to google, but I digress). But when Jenni was diagnosed with cancer, I didn’t have the faintest idea how to answer. I remember distinctively the few days before, Jenni and I went to dinner. We had a serious conversation about all the possibilities it could be. My own mother was diagnosed with cancer and thank God has overcome it with treatment. I knew the toll it would take on her and the family. I told Jenni, this is going to suck, but let’s not worry about it until we must and then we’ll think of the next steps. During that time, Jenni and I connected in a new way, we started praying together and she would even come with me to church occasionally. We both agreed that God has a funny sense of humor that we don’t get, but we’re lucky to have Him looking out for us, no matter the outcome.

What I didn’t tell Jenni, is that every time before I meet with her, I pray. I pray that God gives me the wisdom to be able to respond to her in the way she needs. But the day, Jenni called to tell me her prognosis, I was not prepared. I was driving to a meeting and it felt as a rock fell in the pit of my stomach. I mumbled something about getting through this together and it would be ok and God will guide us. When we hung up, I burst into tears. This became a reoccurrence in the beginning, I would cry before or after I met Jenni, but never during. I knew that she needed strength and for me to be light hearted and sane (as much as I could anyway). That I had to be there, but not to wallow in pity next to her.  

As we were navigating how she would start treatment and meeting with the doctors, a few things became apparent to me. First, I was to take my cue from the family. My role, I reminded myself is to be there as Jenni’s mentor, friend, and advocate, as a compliment to the family’s role and not to replace. During this time, I became friends with Brianda (Jenni’s older sister) and we had a chance to connect on Jenni and so many other issues. Second, I became very angry at our health system, at our current stupid administration and the lack of empathy people had. It’s as if Jenni’s treatment brought to fruition all the anger, hurt and problems our country was facing in a personal matter. This anger, has helped fuel me into action, at my work, at centering me and most importantly at forcing me to continually fall on my knees and pray to God.

So God helped me in a few ways, I needed to rely on Him more than ever to go through this with Jenni. My spiritual life and relationship with Him was strengthened because of Jenni. Our intense discussions about spirituality, Christ and love was constantly challenged in good ways and I grew as a result.  My definition of a mentor was constantly changing. It meant I was there in the way Jenni needed. I learned how to be a mentor without being overbearing. I would check in on Jenni through her blog posts, her texts, and left it up to her when she wanted to meet. It meant booking us pedicures and facials. It meant going to coffee shops during cold dreary Saturdays to work on homework or taking long walks on the waterfront in the summer. It meant, taking her to my church for midnight Easter liturgy and going one of my best friend’s home for dinner after. It also meant, I got to hear Jenni’s darkest thoughts. The ones, she was afraid to share with her family. The ones that came in the form of late 1am texts. The ones that I realized were venting thoughts that I was not meant to respond to but listen to.

Honestly, Jenni- what can I say? Your grace and strength during this time- was a lesson for me. A lesson for all of us. In resiliency, in love, in grace and in God’s mercy. Jenni-I thank God constantly for you. When you walked into my life 7 years ago, He gave me a sister bound by spirit and soul. I love you very much and today as I write this while you’re one week away from Kicking Becky to the curb, I can say that we will look at these moments and we’ll burst out laughing. Tears rolling down our eyes laughing, catching our breath in between kind of laughing. You’ll be a survivor who is not defined by this illness, but defined by your character and beautiful soul. I can’t wait to see you write your memoirs about your journey and how it will inspire others. We got this, my friend- because God is handling it. #Mahaout

Don’t worry we’re still getting that Becky piñata for you to beat the shit out of.