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kpopfanfictrash · 4 years ago

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Raise the Barre (Ch. 7)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: mention of vomit, intense physical training, blood blisters

Word Count: 6,829

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.

Fifteen minutes later, Jimin pulled to a stop at the edge of the curb.

Stepping from the sidewalk, you hastened to the passenger side and opened the door. Your wait had mostly been uneventful, but you hated standing alone in the dark for any longer than necessary. Sliding into the passenger seat, you pulled the door shut and turned sideways to face him.

“Thanks,” you exhaled, seeing him for the first time tonight.

Jimin looked sleepy, as though your call had woken him up – which it probably had, since it was near 1:30 AM. Yesterday when you spoke, Jimin had said he planned on going to bed early. He was dressed in what Noelle would’ve called a groutfit – grey sweats, grey hoodie and silver-framed glasses. You blinked at these, not having realized Jimin wore contacts.

“No problem.” Jimin stifled a yawn. “Seat belt.”

“Huh?”

“Put on your seat belt.” He nodded at the strap by your side.

“Oh – right.” Hastily, you pulled this across your chest. “Thanks.”

Silence fell as you did, the awkwardness increasing with each passing second. Usually, you were better about things like car safety, but everything about this moment felt surreal. Jimin had given you his number barely twenty-four hours prior – you highly doubted this was what he had in mind when he said he’d call.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted, unsure what to do.

Jimin’s lips twitched. “It’s fine, Y/N.”

Glancing his way, you found Jimin’s profile dimly lit by the streetlights. He sat spread-legged in the driver’s seat; one hand placed casually on the shift. When he caught you looking, Jimin arched a brow and shifted the car into drive.

Pulling from the curb, he merged into traffic headed away from the club. As the bright lights of Excelsior disappeared into the rearview mirror, the cars on the road became few and far between. You drove in silence, city lights striping Jimin’s profile in black and white.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “Is everything okay?” Jimin asked, too casual to be normal.

It took you a moment to answer.

Usually, you would’ve responded yes even if it weren’t the case, since no one truly wanted to hear about your problems. Asking someone how are you? in the city was the same as a nod hello. It wasn’t genuine interest in another person’s well-being.

Tonight though, your usual responses caught in your throat. Tonight, you felt tired, frayed and dangerously thin at the seams.

Everything was not okay, and you weren’t sure how to say otherwise. Your usual walls had been torn, leaving you with this sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Your fight with Finn had been a big one, even worse than the argument a few weeks ago.

Still, Jimin was a newer friend to you – if you could even call him that. It wasn’t fair to unload all your problems on him. Especially at such a late hour and especially not when he was the one doing you a favor.

“Yeah,” you said at last. “Everything’s fine.”

Jimin paused, as though he knew this to be bullshit.

“Let me rephrase,” he said, shifting in his seat. “Anyone’s ass I should kick?”

You laughed a little, surprised by his threat. “No, no,” you said, shaking your head. “Nothing like that.”

“Good.” Jimin’s smile faded. “So, what happened then? How’d you get stranded?”

He didn’t ask why you called him, but the implication was clear in his voice. Honestly, it was a question you had no good answer to. All you knew was when you were standing on the curb, staring at your phone and wondering who to call, Jimin was one of the first people to pop into your mind.

“I was out with my boyfriend,” you sighed. “I said I’d go to the club with him and his friends, but it got late and we have class tomorrow, so I told Finn I wanted to leave. He… didn’t.” Pausing, you swallowed. “I ended up leaving, but I didn’t realize the trains had stopped running. Uber surcharge was ridiculous, too.”

“Oh.” Jimin’s grip on the wheel tightened.

“Anyways.” You slouched lower in his seat. “You’re the only person I know with a car, so…”

“Ah. Right.”

Curious, you glanced sideways. Although Jimin was responding in one-word answers, they seemed somehow loaded, as though they contained hidden meaning. Even his profile seemed cautious, full of a tension you couldn’t quite place.

Jimin frowned. “Your boyfriend just… let you leave like that?”

“He didn’t let me,” you said as you straightened. “I can make my own decisions, Park.”

“I know, I just…”

“You just what, Park? Spit it out.”

“I don’t know.” Jimin shrugged. “It just seems kind of cold. That’s all.”

“Yeah, well.” Truth be told, it seemed cold to you, too. “I’m not exactly… thrilled with the situation, either. He turned off his phone,” you muttered, turning to face the window.

In the reflection, you saw Jimin grimace.

“Sorry,” he said quietly.

“What for?”

“That just sucks, that’s all.”

“Yeah. It does suck.”

Jimin made an indiscernible noise of agreement before lapsing into silence.

It was strange to be in a car with him at this late an hour; oddly intimate for a multitude of reasons you pushed aside.

The last time you’d seen Jimin dressed so casually had been when you walked in on him with Sabrina. It had been nearly a month since then, but you hadn’t heard any gossip of them being together on campus.

Maybe this was something you could’ve asked Jimin, but it wasn’t like you had that type of relationship. Sure, you were ballet partners and sure, you’d been getting along lately, but you didn’t usually interact outside of class. Yet another line you’d crossed by calling Jimin tonight.

Thus far, you’d mostly managed to keep Finn and Russet separate. Noelle had met Finn a couple of times – you’d gone to dinner once and gotten coffee together another time, but otherwise, nothing. Finn wouldn’t have wanted to come to one of your Grace Hall rom-com marathons or take a pilates class on Sunday morning.

Mixing personal life and dance felt strange to you, as though two separate halves of yourself were colliding. It was odd to see Jimin outside of Russet’s walls. He seemed more at ease in his car, like the lines of him had blurred more from dancer to person.

Something about the nighttime made things seem fuzzier. Tired from the day and just beginning to thaw from the cold, you found your lips and mind looser than usual.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Jimin said, interrupting the silence. “But I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend.”

With a humorless sort of laugh, you turned to face him. “Yeah, well. I do.”

“Huh.”

Hearing his skepticism, you insisted, “I do!”

“I believe you!” Jimin chuckled. He paused. “Is it new, then? I don’t remember anyone coming to watch your dance competitions in high school.”

Warmth spread through your body, realizing Jimin must’ve kept tabs. He’d watched you at dance competitions. He knew your usual crowd of supporters.

“Finn isn’t new,” you said slowly. “He just didn’t come to a lot of competitions. They got repetitive, you know? Lots of waiting around for three minutes of watching me dance.”

“I guess.” Jimin shrugged. “I used to go to my ex’s tennis tournaments all the time, though. That was the same thing, except no AC.”

“Right,” you laughed. “You’re right, at least our competitions had air conditioning.”

Jimin turned on his blinker to switch lanes. Pulling onto a side street, he glanced in the rearview mirror. Another moment passed, and then –

“We broke up before college.”

Surprised, you glanced in his direction. “Oh. Okay.”

You stared at his profile, wondering if you were supposed to say something more. You could think of many questions to ask, but they didn’t seem appropriate coming from you. You hadn’t realized Jimin was dating someone in high school – although, come to think of it, you did seem to remember a blonde girl cheering for him in the audience at Applause Dance Competition.

“It seemed like time,” Jimin continued quietly. “She went to a school across the country and we just never assumed we’d stay together. That sounds bad,” he said with a half-laugh. “I kind of figured though, if we were meant to be, we’d figure it out. The fact that we didn’t try spoke volumes.”

“That makes sense. Honestly,” you said with a sigh. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if me and Finn had been long distance.”

As soon as the words left your lips, you blinked. The statement hung before you in mid-air, forcing you to consider it for the first time.

This wasn’t something you’d allowed yourself to imagine before; what would’ve happened if you’d gone to a different school. Going to college so close to Finn had just seemed like a sign. You didn’t have the college break-up talk because you’d simply assumed you didn’t need to.

“Yeah.” Jimin sighed. “It’s hard, right? Everything is changing so quickly. You want things to stay the same, but isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Change. Grow. I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Everyone keeps telling me change isn’t a bad thing.”

“Sure seems like it, sometimes,” you said softly.

Jimin nodded. After a moment, he reached out for the stereo. A familiar song filled his car and something uncertain unfurled in your stomach. You weren’t sure what you were even talking about anymore – change was a dangerous topic without Finn around.

When the chorus of the song kicked in, you smiled.

“I love this song,” you said, turning to Jimin. “I almost choreographed my solo to it senior year.”

“Really?” Jimin glanced at you in surprise. “Same.”

“No way!” you laughed. “Wow – that would’ve been awkward. Imagine if we’d both had the same solo.”

“It would’ve made us even more competitive.”

“Not possible.”

“You’re probably right.” Jimin smiled. “We were really at each other’s throats for a while, weren’t we?”

“Yeah, we were.”

Settling back in your seat, you couldn’t help but frown.

Something about this statement bothered you, although you couldn’t put a finger on what. Maybe it was what Jimin had said yesterday about your mutual competition pushing each other forward. Maybe it had something to do with that night in Danley Hall, when Jimin stopped by and said he loved watching you dance.

If you really stopped and thought about it, Jimin was the sole constant in your dancing career. Every year, at every dance competition, you’d make sure you were available to watch Jimin’s solo. You told yourself this was because he was your competition but really, you just loved watching him dance.

You could remember the cool air of the theatre as you snuck in, sinking into a plush, velvet chair and hoping you wouldn’t be seen. You’d loved watching Jimin near the front, close enough to see his facial expressions but not close enough to be seen from the stage.

If your solos were close to one another in timing, you tended to watch Jimin from the wings. This had been a different kind of intimacy, hidden behind the first leg while you watched him dance. Lights dim, you recalled Jimin’s silhouette while he would walk to center. The opening notes of his music would sound, and you’d stifle a shiver while you watched him, entranced.

As it turned out, Jimin had been watching your solos as well, but you hadn’t known this for some time. Not until he’d told you the other night.

Suddenly, you turned in your seat. “You know I think you’re talented, right?” you blurted. “There was a reason I was always trying to beat you.”

Jimin’s brows shot up so high, they nearly met his hairline.

“I – uh, no,” he said. “You’ve never said that to me before. In fact, you kind of said the opposite. You told me the only reason I won was because I’m a guy.”

Hearing your words thrown back in your face, heat began to creep up your neck.

“Listen, about that –”

“I’m kidding.” Jimin shot you a smile. “It’s fine, Y/N.”

“I – okay.”

“Look, I know men have an advantage in the dance world.” Returning his gaze to the road, Jimin’s smile disappeared. “I’m not dumb. I know we have higher centers of gravity, and all that. It’s just… you’re also talented, Y/N. People love to watch you dance, myself included. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Staring at him over the console, you felt oddly moved by this speech.

It was strange; many people in your life had called you talented. Your parents, your teachers and Finn, of course. Each of those compliments had meant something to you, but this one felt different. It felt different coming from Jimin – more important, somehow.

Maybe it was because you admired him most of all. The realization didn’t shock you as much as it probably should’ve.

“Thanks,” you said quietly.

Jimin nodded, continuing to scan the road. His car was clean, you realized as you glanced around. There were no water bottles on the floor, no napkins hastily stuffed into the glove compartment. The only sign of being lived-in was a keychain dangling over the dashboard; a small, plastic photo frame with two people inside.

“My parents,” Jimin explained, noticing where you looked.

“Oh,” you said, bending a bit closer. “They look nice.”

He laughed, unable to help it. “I’ve always thought so. My dad is the one who encouraged me to be a dancer, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Fondly, Jimin smiled. “He’s always loved music. When I was a baby, he loved to hold me and jump around the living room to songs on the radio. My mom has tons of videos of it.”

You smiled at the image. “That sounds adorable.”

“And embarrassing. My dad’s not that great a dancer.”

Without meaning to, you snorted.

Hearing this, Jimin’s smile widened. “When I started memorizing all the dances I saw on TV, my dad convinced my mom to put me in classes. Things kind of spiraled from there.”

“That’s nice,” you said, settling down in his seat. “My parents have always been my biggest supporters, too.”

Jimin nodded, about to respond but then a blast of AC hit you and you shivered. You’d nearly forgotten what you were wearing – or more accurately, what you weren’t wearing. The thin tank top you had on did little to hide the bare skin underneath.

Jimin’s gaze darted sideways. “Are you cold?” he asked, reaching out for the heat. “You can have my hoodie in the backseat, if you want.”

“Oh. No, that’s okay.” Hastily, you untied your cardigan from around your waist. “I have this,” you said, sliding both arms into the sleeves. “Completely forgot about it.”

Silently, Jimin nodded – and then his lips twitched.

“What?” you demanded.

“Nothing!” He shook his head, fighting to keep his face even. “It’s just… you wore a cardigan out to the club?”

Glancing down, you felt your cheeks begin to heat again. “Yes,” you said, somewhat defensive as you looked up. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing. It’s just, you know.” He paused. “My grandma has that sweater.”

“Well, your grandma sounds like a cool lady.”

“Without a doubt,” Jimin assured. “Not much of a clubber, though.”

Leaning your head to the window, you smiled. “That makes two of us then.”

You knew the city well enough by now to recognize you were only a few blocks from Grace Hall. Somehow, you found yourself not wanting the car ride to end. Talking to Jimin outside of dance practice was nice – even fun, you realized with some surprise.

It was a shame it’d taken you so long to recognize this.

“Seriously, though.” Jimin laughed. “Clubs can be a good time! There’s dancing, there’s music… rumor has it you like dancing.”

“Not that kind of dancing,” you sighed. “That kind of dancing is just a dry version of a lap dance for people who don’t know what to do with their hips.”

Jimin hid behind a smile. “Ouch, on behalf of your boyfriend.”

“Oh!” Straightening, you glanced at him in alarm. “That’s not – I didn’t mean…”

Stricken, you realized the obviousness of what you had said. Forget about your face heating, your entire body felt like an inferno. You had just told Jimin, in so many words, that Finn didn’t know what to do with his hips.

Jimin waved this admission aside. “Don’t worry about it, Y/N. I’ll forget what I heard the instant I get home. Up until tonight, I didn’t know the guy existed, right?”

“Right,” you agreed, settling back in your seat.

Rather than reassure you, this only gave you further pause.

It didn’t seem possible Jimin hadn’t known about Finn. Racking your brains, you tried to think of a time they would’ve crossed paths – only to come up short. Finn hadn’t ever stopped by the studio to pick you up, he hadn’t ever come to mutual hangouts with your Russet friends. Admittedly, Jimin had only recently started attending the same ones as you, but it still seemed unthinkable.

You and Finn had been dating for over two years. Finn’s name should have come up at some point and yet, it hadn’t.

Before you could respond, Jimin pulled to a stop outside your dorm. Glancing over the console, he smiled and again, you were struck by the image.

With his grey sweats, mussed hair and those glasses – you swallowed. It was a side of Jimin you hadn’t seen and something about the visual made your stomach lurch. Before you could launch into full-blown panic, Jimin raised a brow.

“Here you are,” he said with a grandiose wave. “Home sweet home.”

Glancing past him, you took in the steps of Grace Hall.

“Thanks,” you said, pushing open the door. Before exiting the car, you paused and looking over your shoulder. “Seriously, Jimin, thank you. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten home without you.”

In the darkness, you saw his expression soften.

“Anytime,” Jimin said.

You could tell he meant it. There was something to his gaze which made you nod. Jimin wasn’t the type to mince words or say things he didn’t mean. Just like when he said he loved your dancing, you knew Jimin was telling the truth. When he said anytime, he meant it.

Nodding, you resumed exiting the car. Waving goodbye, you stood on the curb until he was out of sight.

Once Jimin disappeared, you sighed and turned towards the building. Grace Hall was silent this late at night – it was nearly 2:00 AM and again, you were thankful Jimin had answered his phone. As you let yourself in and climbed the steps to your room, your thoughts began to race with all the what-ifs.

What-if Jimin hadn’t answered, what-if you’d had to walk home alone, or walk to find a cab. Pressing your eyes shut, you shooed these thoughts away. None of that had actually happened, so it wasn’t worth worrying about.

As soon as you got upstairs, you stepped in the shower – the stickiness of that girl’s drink continued to linger on your skin. After changing into fresh pajamas and brushing your teeth, you wearily climbed into bed. The last thing you did before falling asleep was call Finn again in case he’d returned home.

His phone went straight to voicemail though and, with a sinking stomach, you rolled over in bed and turned off the light.

After sleeping until the last possible moment, you managed to roll yourself out of bed around seven the next morning. This only left fifteen minutes before you needed to leave and even then, you felt like a zombie as you rushed out the door.

Grabbing coffee at the place down the street, you and Noelle entered class with barely ten minutes to spare. Jimin was already present but he was talking to Louis, so you stuck to your side and didn’t interrupt. You wanted to thank him again for his help, but all this flew out the window when a familiar woman followed Mr. Vlad into the classroom.

“Class.” Mr. Vlad set his things down by the window. “You remember Anna Hodelle, I presume – principal dancer at the New York City Ballet. She’s in town for a different master class and has graciously agreed to lead ballet this morning.”

The news was simultaneously exciting and nerve-wracking. Anna had taught a master class several weeks prior which left you sore for days following. Her classes were exciting though, and she was Anna Hodelle, one of the youngest principal dancers for the New York City Ballet in at least forty years – so there was that.

Her introduction didn’t require any response. Scrambling into place at the barre, the class waited while Anna shed her warm-ups and Mr. Vlad left the room. As soon as the music began, you found yourself grateful you hadn’t drunk the night prior.

Similar to her last master class, you found Miss Anna relentless in her pursuit of perfection. Her expectations were high and as a result, everyone gave their best effort – and then some. By the time you broke for water, no less than three students had already run for the bathroom.

It wasn’t pretty, but vomiting was something which happened with dance. Class could be such a grueling workout that occasionally, younger students pushed themselves past their limits. If you ate a big meal before practice, it was increasingly likely you might throw it up after.

You could count on two hands the number of times this had happened to you in high school. There had been some days you practiced so hard, sweat ran down your forehead and blinded your vision. On other days, the floor was so slippery, your bare feet couldn’t grasp the floorboards. Dance, despite being hailed for grace and glamour, tended to be exactly the opposite.

One of your teachers used to say you weren’t using your muscles if they weren’t shaking by the end. Ballerinas were seen as delicate, but this couldn’t be further from the truth. Ballet only looked effortless – this was a carefully cultivated image for the audience. At all times, all muscles in a ballerina’s body were engaged, yet even when sweat dripped down her brow, she had to smile.

You’d seen dancers finish their combination, give a sweeping bow, walk gracefully offstage and vomit into the nearest trash can. Everything was for show, everything was for the audience – one of your favorite parts about dance was knowing the brutal behind-the-scenes effort everything took. It made you appreciate the final product all the more.

By the end of class you were exhausted but happy, wiping sweat from your brow while you applauded the teacher. After Anna’s dismissal, you immediately exhaled and trudged towards your bag. Noelle chattered on about a TV show you were watching, reminding you to catch up before Monday.

As you picked up your bag, you felt its front pocket vibrate. Fishing inside for your phone, you pulled this out and felt your eyes widen.

Five missed calls and eight missed texts. Once you opened your phone, you saw they were all from Finn.

Finn: hey [8:18 AM]

Finn: Y/N, I’m so sorry [8:19 AM]

Finn: I don’t know if you’re ignoring me because you’re angry, or if you’re in class right now [8:25 AM]

Finn: you’re probably in class [8:30 AM]

Finn: if you’re not though, please call me back [8:31 AM]

Finn: fuck [9:01 AM]

Finn: I was such an ass last night, Y/N. I’m sorry [9:03 AM]

Finn: … please call me [9:35 AM]

With each text you read, you felt your heart sink. Up until this point, you’d gotten through class by pretending last night hadn’t happened. Now though, you were forced to remember every detail of the night prior.

Finn had left you at the club.

He’d stormed away from your fight, turned off his phone and left you alone. Each time you remembered the night, your fury only grew. This morning when you woke, you’d still been pissed off – even more so, when you turned on your phone and saw zero texts from Finn.

Had your roles been reversed, you never would’ve done the same to him. Sure, it had been a bad fight but who did that? Just took off in the middle of a conversation and shut everything down. The worst part was him turning off his phone. As soon as things didn’t go as planned, Finn simply washed his hands of you.

That was what hurt most of all, the shame burrowing deep into the crevices of your heart.

Beneath everything was a strange twinge of guilt at having called Jimin to pick you up. This was easily brushed aside, though – Finn had left you stranded. If anyone had a right to be mad here, it was you.

“Y/N? You okay?”

Noelle’s voice pulled you from your reverie. Blinking, you lowered your phone and realized you were alone. The rest of the room had cleared out after class – this probably wasn’t the first time Noelle had said your name.

“Shit, sorry!” Hastily, you shoved your phone in your bag. “Yeah… yeah, everything’s fine.”

Noelle gave you a look. “Really?”

After a moment, you sighed. “No,” you said, turning to walk towards the door. “Why pretend? It’s Finn.”

Following you from the classroom, Noelle fell into step alongside you.

“He’s not hurt, is he?” she said carefully.

“Unfortunately, not.”

Noelle snorted. “Okay, so he’s in the doghouse.”

“Yep.”

“Want to talk about it?”

At the top of the stairs, you paused. “Finn and I got in a fight last night,” you admitted. “He wanted to stay at the club, and I wanted to go home – so he told me to leave. I did, but then I realized I had no way to get there.”

Noelle’s mouth dropped. “Are you fucking kidding me? He just… left you there? Wow. The next time I see your ‘boyfriend,’ I’m going to – wait,” she said, pulling up short. “How did you get home, then?”

“I – uh, well… Jimin picked me up.”

Noelle stared at you a moment longer. “Huh. Didn’t expect that.”

“Neither did I,” you said, beginning to walk down the stairs. “Finn turned his cell phone off, so I couldn’t get ahold of him and by then, the trains stopped running. Uber was surging and Jimin is the only person I know with a car, so…”

“Ah, gotcha. That makes sense.” Noelle nodded. “Nice of him to come get you.”

“Yeah, it was nice. Anyways, Finn’s been texting me all morning.”

“Oh!” Noelle groaned. “That was your phone! I kept hearing something vibrating while I was waiting to go across the floor.”

“Yep, that was him,” you said glumly. “Apparently he’s sorry.”

“Of course, he is.”

“He said he was an ass last night.”

“Of course, he did.”

“… I’m still pissed at him.”

“Of course, you are!” Noelle cried, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “Listen, tell him you got home alright – not that he deserves that much, mind you – but you need some time to cool off. He can wait until you’re ready to talk, right?”

Nodding, you saw sense in what she was saying. “You’re right.”

Despite Noelle making sense though, part of you didn’t want to wait.

Part of you wanted to call Finn back right now and give him a piece of your mind, but you knew if you did that, things wouldn’t end well. He deserved to be cussed out, but you were completely exhausted. The idea of fighting with your boyfriend left you feeling drained.

Noelle was right – Finn could wait until you were ready to talk, whenever that was.

Pulling out your phone a second time, you texted Finn you were safe and that you’d talk when you were ready. Once he responded okay, you shoved your phone in your pocket.

Noelle looked sympathetically on. “Why don’t we have a girl’s night?” she said, arm back around your shoulder. “We can invite Irene and Ari and just watch dumb movies and eat brownie batter in fancy lingerie. You know, like every guy’s sleepover porn fantasy.”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed. “Sounds like a plan,” you said with a grin. “God, what would I do without you?”

“Be super bored, probably.”

You snorted, but the thought stuck in your mind as you left the building. It really would be awful without Noelle by your side. Without meaning to, your thoughts strayed to Sabrina. Aside from Katie and Allison, you had no idea who she hung out with.

It had to be lonely for someone like her. Russet was intense enough without a support system. You quickly pushed these feelings aside – even if Sabrina was lonely, she had no one to blame but herself. You’d offered the olive branch enough times by now to know when to stop.

“I guess only one question remains,” you said slowly.

Noelle glanced your way. “Oh, yeah? What?”

“How dumb are the dumb movies we’re watching? Like, From Justin to Kelly dumb – where it’s a guilty pleasure? Or, more like The Kissing Booth dumb – where things are just bad dumb.”

“Why choose?” Noelle shrugged. “Let’s do both!”

“Deal!”

As you climbed the steps to Grace Hall, you continued to ignore Finn’s texts in your bag. He could wait until tomorrow, at least. After what he put you through, a single night of not knowing what you were thinking seemed appropriate.

When you finally gave in and called Finn the next day, you weren’t sure what you were hoping for. Finn had already texted his apology, so at least he knew he’d been in the wrong. As to what degree he was aware, you didn’t know, but you got a fairly good idea once he picked up the phone.

Short answer: very wrong.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Finn blurted, as though afraid you might cut him off. “I was such an ass to you Friday night. I – I don’t even know what to say. I don’t even know where to start. I fucked up so bad, Y/N and I’m sorry.”

Silence followed this outburst as you frowned, leaning back on the bed.

Noelle had graciously left the room to study at the coffee shop on the corner. Secretly, you knew this was mostly to flirt with the barista, Namjoon, but you couldn’t begrudge her for that. Namjoon did have the most adorable dimples you’d ever seen.

Focusing your thoughts on Finn, you played with a stray thread of your sheets. “I mean… that’s a good start, I guess,” you muttered. “But what are you really sorry for, Finn?”

His sigh was soft. “Everything.”

“Specifics would be good.”

“I was drunk,” he exhaled. “That’s not an excuse, but… I honestly don’t remember everything that I said to you. I remember the gist of it though, and I know it was terrible. I know you didn’t deserve it.”

You remained silent, even though you agreed with him.

“I wanted to stay out,” he continued. “That doesn’t really matter, though. I was a dick. I was stubborn and angry, and I took that out on you. You’re the last person I would ever want to hurt, and I just… I left you. Something could’ve happened to you. God, if something had happened, Y/N…”

Finn trailed off and you heard his voice crack but forced yourself to stay silent. Hearing him break was hard, but you reminded yourself what you’d felt Friday night – all the anger and terror when he completely disappeared.

This memory hardened you enough not to melt at his apology.

“Yeah, well,” you said tightly. “You’re right – something could’ve happened. The trains weren’t running and Uber was crazy expensive. I couldn’t get back in the club. I ended up waiting outside for nearly twenty minutes before someone came to pick me up.”

“Fuck.” Finn sounded strangled. “Fuck… Y/N, I’m sorry…”

In your mind, you envisioned him shoving a hand through his hair. Finn did that when he was stressed or upset and right now, he sounded a little of both.

“Yeah.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Who picked you up?”

Immediately, you stiffened. “Do you seriously think you deserve an answer to that?”

“No, no, I – you’re right, it doesn’t matter. Thank them for me, okay?”

You remained silent and again, Finn sighed.

“Are you… are we going to be okay?”

It was a loaded question. Closing your eyes, you leaned your head to the wall. In all honesty, you didn’t know the answer to that.

On the one hand, you loved Finn. That hadn’t changed. On the other hand, it was becoming more and more apparent your problems weren’t going away. It would be foolish to pretend otherwise – but all couples had problems, didn’t they?

In the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but think a break-up should be more obvious than this. A break-up should be something big, something irreversible. You were beginning to wonder though, at what point were problems considered insurmountable. Everything about this seemed grey and right now, you really needed black and white answers.

Both your lives were changing, as Jimin had said. Freshman year was a cacophony of change; in order to succeed, you and Finn needed to learn to grow with each other. Hiccups were to be expected, bumps in the road were to be expected, but if you wanted to stay together, you needed to learn how to fight for this relationship.

“I think so,” you said, opening your eyes. “I think we’ll be okay. I just… Finn, you really hurt me that night.”

“I know.”

“It can’t happen again.”

“It won’t.”

“You know… I want to spend time with you, right?”

“I… do.”

He paused for longer than you would’ve liked, but you brushed past it. “I know you like going to clubs and all that,” you said. “But that’s not really me. Maybe next time we can do something different. Something a little more low-key.”

“Yeah.” Finn chuckled. “That sounds nice, honestly.”

“Good.”

“At least my friends really liked you.”

Taken aback, you snorted. “Oh, come on, Finn. I was barely there.”

“I’m being serious! Ben told me he thinks you’re funny.”

“Ben,” you groaned. “Has all the humor of a wet sock.”

Finn laughed and this time, it sounded like him. His laugh had been watery before, a restrained version but now, his true mirth broke free. As soon as the sound hit your ears, you began to relax. Truthfully, you hadn’t been sure things would be okay until then. Hearing him laugh, you knew Finn meant it. He wanted this, too.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “Ben sucks, but at least he has the taste to know that you don’t. Next time, we’ll do something more fun.”

“Next time,” you agreed.

“Next time.”

Despite your conversation having gone as well as it possibly could’ve, uncertainty continued to linger in the back of your mind.

You spent Sunday evening watching TV, but still slept restlessly before your class the next morning. Mr. Vlad’s ballet was definitely not one you wanted to arrive at ill-rested, but Monday you showed up with bags under your eyes.

You tried to push all negative thoughts from mind while warming up at the barre. By the time class broke for water, you were feeling marginally better. Ballet was soothing that way. The repetitiveness of barre helped to put things in perspective. Your ankle had almost completely healed by this point and now, two weeks after the fall, your technique had finally begun to improve.

No longer were you the last one to catch onto combinations and Mr. Vlad only yelled once about your turnout at barre. This was a marked improvement from the start of the year and although you still were far from the top, you felt relatively good about your standing. You had a feeling once you and Jimin began to practice, the moves would come even easier.

The first combination at center was a slow adagio. It wasn’t particularly difficult aside from a lift in the middle, but despite the familiarity of the moves, Jimin was being oddly hesitant.

Mr. Vlad showed the combination with his dance assistant, Mina. After they demonstrated a particularly difficult lift, they gave everyone time to practice – which, in your and Jimin’s case, turned out to be necessary.

“Ladies, pique to arabesque!” Mr. Vlad called from the front. “Lift your leg higher and – the man lifts! He walks you in a promenade. Then you’re lowered, exhale – and bourrée!”

Brian immediately raised his hand for help, so Mr. Vlad left to assist in his corner. The lift was proving itself to be tricky – it required most of your weight balanced against Jimin’s side while he gripped your thigh, lifting you up.

You and Jimin began to practice, but no matter what you did, nothing seemed to be working. After the fourth failed attempt where Jimin nearly dropped you on your ass, you shakily landed and whirled around.

“Alright,” you said, both hands on your hips. “What’s going on?”

Jimin’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, how’re you supposed to lift me if you’re barely touching me? Look at Sabrina and Paulo!” you said, gesturing in their direction. “He’s got his whole fucking hand under her leg!”

Jimin’s cheeks turned red. “I – uh, right. Yeah. Let’s try it again.”

Staring at him another moment, you nodded and returned to your spot. Jimin settled into fifth position, jaw clenched and looking as though he were in pain. You stared at him in the mirror, considering calling him out before thinking better of it.

Taking a deep breath, you piqued into arabesque. Leaning your weight to Jimin, he reached again for your thigh – only to falter, leaving you hanging.

“Jimin!” you half-laughed as you slipped down his leg.

“I’m sorry!” Jimin blurted, stepping away. Looking thoroughly distraught, he shoved both hands through his hair. “It’s just… well, I…”

“It’s just what?”

“You have a boyfriend,” he said, a bit pained.

In response to this, both your eyebrows shot up. That had not been the answer you’d expected.

“I… okay?” you said, failing to grasp the point. “So what?”

“So.” Jimin glanced furtively around. “I don’t know, it’s just weird! I don’t want to… overstep my boundaries, or anything.”

“But…” You stared. “I had a boyfriend last week and it wasn’t a problem.”

“Okay, but last week I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

Again, you looked at him as though he was crazy.

“This is stupid,” you said, stepping closer. “Ballet is our job, Jimin. It’s the least sexy occupation on the planet. Right now, I’m bleeding from three different blisters inside my pointe shoes. I’m sure my deodorant has long worn off by now. Would you just fucking get over yourself and grab my thigh?”

Jimin’s upper lip twitched. “Well. When you put it like that.”

“I am putting it like that,” you said with a grin. “Now, let’s go again.”

Nodding, Jimin followed when you walked backwards. Taking another deep breath, you piqued to arabesque and this time, Jimin didn’t flinch when your weight transitioned to his. Hand sliding beneath your thigh, he lifted you easily into a promenade.

As soon as you turned your head, you caught Jimin’s gaze and felt – something.

Something other than the white noise of the room. Something other than the thud-thud of your heart, other than the music on the stereo and Mr. Vlad yelling counts from the corner.

Despite what you had just finished saying, something unknown seemed to bloom in your chest. In the middle of the lift – blood blisters and all – you felt an errant spark where Jimin’s front pressed to yours.

You barely had time to recognize this before the moment was gone. Slowing his walk, Jimin set you back down – and you wobbled.

This time it had nothing to do with his technique.

“Ah, shit.” Jimin frowned. “That’s my bad – I can do better! Let’s try it again.”

Nodding, you felt a bit wooden as you followed in his footsteps. When Mr. Vlad started the music, you fought the surging tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm. It had been nothing, you told yourself. Nothing of importance, anyways.

Shoving whatever you’d felt in a box, you pushed this to a corner of your mind and firmly shut the door. Forcing a smile to your lips, you lifted your chin as you began the combination.

It was lucky everyone else found you a talented performer, since beneath all your smiling, all you could think about was what was hidden in the box.

Something unknown, something tentative – and something which could be dangerous, if it ever came to light.

Author’s Note: I was so close to re-writing this chapter with Mr. Vlad picking her up LOL just kidding, but thank you for reading! 😊 New chapters of Raise the Barre are posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted.

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST

#bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #jimin writing #bts writing #jimin au #jimin series #bts au #bts series #jimin dance au #bts dance au #jimin e2l #bts e2l

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passable-talent · 4 years ago

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Hi yes so I just finished the anakin punk au and it was uh perfect? And you should 100% please write more in that au it doesn’t even have to be in some coherent storyline, just more punk anakin please I am hooked

say no more my dear

I write this. and I think to myself “punks. they like weed. they drink. I should talk about that.”

and then I don’t. because I have a,,, responsibility to promote good health I guess?

don’t do drugs kids. most of them arent worth it i promise

and yes just like i mentioned wattpad in the last one tumblr is coming up on this one we’re breaking the FUCKING fourth wall

part one here

You passed out on his shoulder, exactly as he predicted, at about 2:00 AM.

He didn’t notice for a few minutes, and once he had, he had to make a very hard decision.

He knew you were leaving in the morning, you had other places to be. And he had to get home, Cliegg was going to be pissed he’d been out this late as it was. But- just like you, he never wanted the night to end.

At 2:15, he shimmied out from under you, finding your room key quickly. Once he’d slipped it into his pocket, he picked you up, carrying you all the way back to your room. The door seemed to scream as it opened, but none of the girls were awake. He laid you onto the only empty bed, leaving your room key on the dresser, and kneeled at your beside, for just a moment.

A night he wasn’t going to forget. One he wasn’t willing to leave behind.

He found the notepad left by the hotel for guests and its nearby pen, scribbling his phone number onto it before smacking it onto your room key so that he knew you’d see it.

He wasn’t taking any chances. He did everything he could to make sure that you were safe, that you’d sleep soundly, that he’d see you again. It was a bit of a walk back to where he’d left his car, at the venue, but it was worth it- he shrugged his jacket up around his neck against the cold and kept going, remembering how it’d felt to hold you.

But, in all of his kindness, he had made one mistake. You didn’t get to say goodbye.

You woke up in the hotel room the next morning, for a moment thinking that maybe you’d dreamed the whole thing. But then you realized you still had your shoes on, and you were laying on top of the sheets, why the hell would I do that, and you phone hadn’t been plugged in, and-

And there was a phone number on the dresser.

You weren’t really ‘dating’- you shouldn’t call it that. If you were going to call it that, then there would inevitably be a post on someone’s tumblr that you had a boyfriend, and who was he, where was he from, yada yada... that damn website already had half the internet convinced you were dating Padme, you didn’t want to add any more fuel to the fire.

So no, you weren’t dating. But you were texting every day. You learned so much about him, about how he was raised by his mom and worked at her friend Watto’s auto shop, about his step-brother and future step-sister-in-law, how his mom died when he was nineteen, about how he’d tried to move to California with his friend Obi-Wan a few years ago, but it fell through. In return, you told him about your life- living in the outskirts of San Francisco, being pushed into ballet lessons as a kid (as he said- ‘that’s why you look weightless on stage!’), being cut out from your family for quitting college to pursue music.

You texted every day and every night, sent him videos from gigs, and he sent dumb little snapchats from underneath whatever car he was working on. You expected that to be it, probably for a long time- neither of you had the money nor the time to see each other more often. So you held onto the connection you had, the night you’d spent together.

And you thought that’d be it. But- the universe has a funny way of surprising you.

Your record label was based in LA, so you lived in Salta Ana, about thirty miles away, where the real estate was way cheaper. The band lived together, close as four friends could be, so they knew all about how you’d fallen for Anakin. Ahsoka would notice you glued to your phone, and ask snarkily “texting skyguy?” to which you always scolded her that his name was Skywalker.

Living so close to LA made it easy to do gigs at any venue that would take you- bars, clubs, a particularly anarchist biker hall. A bar- such was the case for tonight.

Like usual with a gig like this, Aayla had taken to instagram and called any fan in the area, so the bar was mostly filled with people who knew the music, but there were regulars, too. People who couldn’t be damned to listen to the lyrics, and just let the atmosphere move them.

The setlist changed, when you were at a place like this. You didn’t necessarily rely on the hundred voice chorus that you loved so much, and so couldn’t include some of those songs. Your music strayed a little more to the rock end of the spectrum, when you played in places like this. With that high energy came faster music, more running around the stage, more movement, but you weren’t tired, when the set ended at 11:25. You were more energized than usual, in fact.

“Pads, I’ve never heard you solo like that!” You said, a bright smile on your face as you pushed out of the employee entrance of the bar. She gave you thanks, but not a moment later stopped dead, not saying a word, staring at you. You paused, looking at her, then Ahsoka and Aayla, who’d both stopped, too.

“What?” Ahsoka and Aayla, though, were looking at something past you, which made you realize that Padme was, too. You turned, and leaning against the wall was- was Anakin.

“Oh my god,” you said under your breath, dropping into a run toward him immediately. “Anakin!” He shoved himself off of the wall, letting you run into his arms, and just held you. You pulled away to look at him, amazed that after months, here he was, right in front of you, real.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, bewildered, surprised, ecstatic.

“Visiting Obi-Wan,” he said, and he lifted his hand to your face, giving you a good look at that tattoo you hadn’t quite forgotten, dark lines reaching from his elbow to his palm.

“And you,” he added. You couldn’t help it- you hadn’t seen him in so long, you couldn’t help the way you leaned into it when he pulled you into a kiss, and this time you weren’t exhausted, and you could let yourself feel it, you could pay attention to his chapped lips and the way he slid them over yours, still soft, even after waiting in the cold. You never wanted to leave this moment, like so many of the others that you spent with him, his hands on your face keeping away the January air.

“Yeah, I’m heading home,” Ahsoka said, making you break the kiss. “Coming, or not?” You looked back at her with a bit of a glare, letting Anakin’s hands fall to your neck.

“You guys go ahead,” you said, checking your jacket pocket for the essentials- wallet, phone, house keys. “I think I have a tradition to uphold.”

The bar you’d played at tonight was a bit far away from the place you wanted to take Anakin, but you didn’t mind the walk, since it was with him. You’d been texting every day, and yet it felt different, there was so much more to talk about now.

Apparently, Anakin hadn’t seen Obi-Wan since he’d left to move to LA, so it was a visit to an old friend as much as it was an excuse to see you again.

“So you’re staying with him?” You asked, leading him by the arm down the street.

“Yeah,” he said, hooking his elbow into yours, which let him keep his hands in his pockets. “He’s got an apartment in east LA, it’s got a nice couch.”

“East LA, not bad. What’s he do?”

“He’s a talent manager, actually. Went to business school and everything.” Anakin paused, suppressing a chuckle. “He told me that he’d love to represent you, if you didn’t already have someone.”

“Sadly, we do,” you said, playful, “but I’ll keep him in mind.”

You’d pretend it was the winter chill that brought the flush to your cheeks- he’d told his friend about you. That had to mean you were important to him, right?

“Where are we heading, anyway?” He asked, and you, luckily, could channel your inner dramatic and turn toward the doorway you’d been heading toward all along.

“Right here,” you said, and you took him inside.

This was your recording studio- it was always open, so that any artist could stop in and get out whatever creativity they had. You showed your ID card to the lobby clerk, who approved it and called the elevator. Anakin followed your lead until the door closed, and just like you had on the night you met him, you pressed the button for the highest floor.

“This is one of the buildings for our record company,” you said, the elevator so familiar.

“Which would explain why he let you in,” Anakin said, a slight teasing tone to his voice. All you could do was chuckle, waiting for the elevator to reach the top floor.

From there, you lead him to a glass door, and swiped your ID card through a reader near its frame so you could step outside.

“This is the rooftop set,” you said, gesturing to the wide space, “It’s where we film a lot of music videos.” This close to the door, it was hard to see over the side of the building, and so you took Anakin’s hand.

“The city lights keep us from stargazing,” you said with a smile, and brought him to the guardrail at the edge of the roof. “So I thought I’d show you the city’s version of the night sky.” Looking out across the city, there were a thousand orange sparkles, windows illuminated in buildings stretching as far as the eye could see. Criss-crossed between them were lines of red and white, LA traffic clogging the city streets even so late at night.

No matter how many times you came up here, you’d never get tired of the view. Fifty-five stories up, there were other buildings that dwarfed this tower, but the west was free of them, so your view to the horizon was clear, even in the LA overcast.

“Wow,” he said, looking out over it all beside you. “I’ve never- I don’t think I’ve ever been up this high.” You fixed him with a surprised expression, leaning your elbows down onto the banister.

“No? Really?”

“I didn’t grow up in a city, like you,” he said, settling in beside you, his arm pressed to yours. You let your head rest onto his shoulder, remembering the night you met.

“I’m glad you came out to LA,” you said, “though I’m hoping you’ll stay a while. I want to go on an actual date with you.” You heard him exhale.

“You don’t call this a date?” he asked, and you lifted your head, looking at him, the lights of the city giving his face the slightest, golden glow.

“Well, I mean-” If this was a date, then so had been the one after the show, back in October. Which meant this was your second date, and you’d technically been ‘dating’ this whole time, which kinda made him your- boyfriend?

“Is it?” Anakin slipped his hand into yours, lacing your fingers together.

“This is better than any dinner and movie we could’ve gone to, I think.” He turned over your hand, tracing his first finger over the skyline tattoo that bisected your forearm. “Especially since it seems like this means a lot to you.” You couldn’t believe he’d noticed that tattoo- it meant he really was paying attention to you.

“Yeah,” you said with a smile, lifting your arm up, his hand still held in yours, aligning the tattoo with the skyline you were looking at. “I got this done after we did our first video.” Silently, he examined the ink and compared it to the sky, seeing what you meant.

“That’s really cool,” he said, bringing your hand back down, since his fingers were getting cold in the wind, and he had to assume yours were too.

“How long are you going to be in town?” You asked, resting your temple down onto his shoulder again.

“A week, or so. Watto says he needs me to work on a mustang that we’re getting- I think Cliegg told him to say that since he doesn’t want me in the city.”

“Well, I don’t want to undermine your dad,” you said, “But I wouldn’t complain if you stayed here a lot longer than that.” You ran your thumb over the back of his hand. “It’s really nice to actually have you with me, and not over the phone.” Anakin turned to kiss the top of your head.

“Tell me about it. It’s worse for me, I promise- I listen to your music all the time, and it just makes me want to see you.”

“Sometimes I forget that you were once just a fan,” you said with a laugh, “listening to our music.”

“The luckiest one in the world,” Anakin added, and you almost wondered how you’d ever lived without him.

You let a moment pass, in silence.

“I’m twenty five,” you started, wondering if you had the courage to finish, “do you think I’m too young to be in love?” Anakin didn’t respond, at first. He turned to you, lifting his furthest hand to your face, making you look up at him. You could never get over those blue eyes- you’d forgotten how intense they were.

“I guess it depends on the guy,” Anakin said, his teeth quickly catching his lower lip. “Do you think you are?” You reached up past his arm to his face, your first finger tracing his eyebrow before your palm came to rest on the ridge of his cheekbone.

“No,” you said, and you rushed forward to meet his lips.

-🦌 Roe

#reader insert #imagines #anakin x reader insert #star wars anakin #anakin imagine #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #punk!anakin #singer!reader #modern au #musician au #star wars #fics

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forevers-winter · 5 years ago

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full folklore analysis!!

as promised, here u go. warning very long.

first of all, the album’s name is super important to its meaning. “folklore” is stories passed by mouth, whether spoken or sung, so taylor’s not singing about herself in most of these songs and some of them are linked into a bigger story. i’ll start with individual analysis of each song and then get into the main storyline.

the 1: from the perspective of a girl (our protagonist) that’s been cheated on, hence the line “if it would’ve been me.” she’s looking back on a relationship that was very summer-love-esque and fun while also acknowledging that it wasn’t meant to be and detailing the bittersweetness of that understanding. one of my faves; linked to august, illicit affairs, and betty.

cardigan: from taylor’s perspective about joe and how she met him at a time where most everyone saw her as a snake or a backstabber and was neck-deep in the worst drama she’s ever been in. as she says in miss americana, “falling in love with someone who had a wonderfully normal, balanced life” was the best thing that could’ve happened to her at that time, hence her relationship with joe made her “feel new again” after so many that were always in the public eye. a lot of people think the cobblestones line is related to betty and/or the 1, but this song as a whole doesn’t fit with the heartbroken themes of those two. more likely it’s hinting at the fact the taylor and joe spend a lot of time together in europe, where cobblestone sidewalks and roads are commonplace.

the last great american dynasty: as many have realized, this is the story of rebekah harkness, the former owner of taylor’s rhode island house who hosted a ballet studio there. that’s literally it, just the story of a badass who doesn’t give af about the opinions of people around her. also one of my faves.

exile: dual perspective from both sides of a relationship that ended with the woman moving on and the man staying stuck in the past. “staring like he’s just your understudy,” “i gave so many signs,” etc. may be about one of taylor’s past relationships in relation to her and joe now but i doubt it. if i had to guess, probably calvin harris bc there were also engagement rumors and marriage plans swirling around with the two of them.

my tears ricochet: taylor’s perspective about the john mayer situation, ie “didn’t have it in myself to go with grace,” “if i’m dead to you,” “battleships,” etc. taylor notoriously wrote an almost-seven-minute song absolutely tearing him apart back on speak now (not going with grace), and their relationship was crazy violent and accusatory for the year or two following (battleships) and neither of them have talked about it since (dead to me+battleships sinking). i think this is her way of apologizing whether or not she had to (spoiler alert: she didn’t).

mirrorball: taylor’s perspective about the public’s opinion on her and joe “i know they said the end is near” but also telling them that their relationship is still going strong “i’m still on my tallest tiptoes...shining just for you.”

seven: holy fuck this song. it’s obviously from taylor’s perspective about her childhood as it mentions pennsylvania, but i have no clue who it could be about and i think that’s the point. it’s about loving someone in your childhood (no pronouns but implied that it’s a girl due to braids and hiding the closet) and wanting to run away with them but realizing as you get older that it won’t happen and eventually forgetting each other’s faces but still remembering how they made you feel. def one of my faves on the album bc it’s g a y a f.

august: also very young-summer-lovey, perspective of a high school girl who lost her virginity to someone older (same person who cheated on her in the 1) hence “never have i ever before,” “you back at school,” etc. but ended up being abandoned and manipulated into thinking they still cared “cancel plans just in case you’d call.” linked to illicit affairs and betty, more on that later.

this is me trying: taylor’s perspective detailing the struggle of growing up in the public eye as a superstar. “had the shiniest wheels now they’re rusting”=going from the golden girl of country music to a politicized controversy-ridden indie/alternative artist. again linked to miss americana: she wanted to stand up for what she believes in and is defending her missteps by stating that she’s trying her best. another of my faves.

illicit affairs: protagonist again. goes into detail about an apparent affair with her partner, now confirmed to be a “him” in the line about perfume.

invisible string: about taylor and joe, super cute, soulmate au type beat. next.

mad woman: taylor roasting sc**ter br*un within an inch of his life as she should. next.

epiphany: hooo boy this one is DEEP. not taylor’s perspective, but about the general trauma anyone experiences from watching someone die or being with them as they die; “some things you just can’t speak about.” extremely relevant during the pandemic, “hold your hand through plastic now” and the recurring line about watching someone breathe. the epiphany in question is the hope for a miracle cure to save the person as they’re dying. favorite crying song on the album.

betty: here we goooooo. perspective of the protagonist’s partner james and his* apologizing to betty for cheating “it was just a summer thing.” the scene of walking on cobblestones and being picked up in a car is the opposite perspective of the same scene in august, and “her” is the narrator of the 1, august, and illicit affairs. the way my interpretation differs from others is that betty isn’t the protagonist in the storyline. *also the fact that this song could very well be wlw if one assumes that illicit affairs is a standalone story not related to the love triangle.

peace: this one...giving us very much kaylor if you ask me. sunshine babey. i can’t even fully analyze it because my dumb bisexual brain just becomes tv static. however, it implies that kaylor will never be an official thing but they’ll keep coming back to each other as friends, hence “never give you peace.” also completely unrelated but the line “clowns to the West” LMAOAKSDNWN ROAST THEM SIS.

hoax: our girl is back. not taylor, the same narrator from all those other songs. this is her final take on james leaving her for betty until the 1, years later.

okay, if you’re still here, buckle up bc here’s the full story in order. august: our girl and james are in love in the summer. everything is cute and good but looking back she sees the trouble on the horizon. illicit affairs: james gets with betty but is still fuckin around with our girl on the side. the line about lies and lies implies that he said betty was the side girl and she believed and cared about him enough to stay while he’s really falling in love with betty and she ignores all the signs that she’s actually the other woman. between this song and betty, betty finds out about our girl and breaks up with james. betty: james realizes he loves betty instead of our girl and is apologizing (and making excuses) on her porch. betty’s a dumb bitch so she forgives him and they get back together. hoax: our girl is in absolute despair over james, who she trusted and loved with all her heart only for him to run off with betty. the 1: despite being the first song on the album, it’s the conclusion to the love triangle’s story. our girl is years older and more mature, looking back on her summer with james and understanding that he couldn’t control his falling out of love with her but appreciating the time they had together. flashes of the sadness from hoax come back, but she always switches it back to the positive. in conclusion, chronological order of the story is: august, illicit affairs, betty, hoax, the 1. and scene.

here’s my potentially hot take and explanation why i don’t think this album is about karlie: doubting taylor and joe’s relationship in favor of shipping kaylor is biphobic, especially after seven on this album basically confirms taylor has had crushes on girls/is bi. it’s one thing to speculate about the past or hope for them to get together, but ignoring the times taylor has gone on record saying that she loves joe and the songs she’s written about him and the more recent evidence that the two are quarantining together is disrespectful to her current relationship. the notion that she’s secretly dating karlie while letting her fans and the press think she’s with joe is furthering the stereotype that bi people are more likely to cheat or lie in a relationship and therefore biphobic. thank you.

anyway lmk if you want me to analyze the non-storyline aspects of the album! (or if you hate me for making it less gay lmao)

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depressedacadamia · 4 years ago

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De Humani Corporis Fabrica

Chapter II: Experience

Word count: 6.9K

Summary: Pjo dancer AU! Drama, drama and more drama. Old relationships and new ones continue to bear the weight of the upcoming auditions all while a special person makes a guest appearance.

A/N: I didn’t mention it before but they are aged up in this series! I picture them to be in their pretty early 20s but I like to think that they’ve known each other for a long time and other characters joined during their teen years. Make sure you enjoy, comment, like, share, reblog- yall know the drill. <3 from moi!

Taglist: no one :( [send a message and get on my taglissstt]

Read Chapter One here!

Le Studio Royal Jupiter was becoming competitive again. The members were still getting used to hearing that. To Nico, it was like a miracle; he had trained since the petit age of 2, waiting for this moment and now he was finally getting it. He wished his sister was here to celebrate such a moment but he knew that if she was here, the studio would have never stopped competing in the first place. The tragic incident had occured at the studio years ago and it had forced them to temporarily stop competing.

Everything seemed better- the sky (which was always a depressing sight) seemed brighter, the studio mirrors were cleaner and Dionysus was less lazy and more salsa-y. Studio 2 was empty on a Monday afternoon- as always because Dionysus would never schedule his lessons on a Monday as he saw it to be ’too drab’. Hazel and Leo however, who were dedicated to the studio, were almost always in on a Monday.

Hazel- in her De Luca heels- was practising a spin that she hadn’t been able to get down for ages while Leo was practising his ballet technique. While he was normally a salsa dancer, every dancer in LSRJ, including himself, was relatively well versed in ballet; Leo knew that working with Calypso would mean a lot of technical work. He was trying to get at least 3 turns in a row without feeling like he was going to fall- one more thing, Leo hated pointe shoes.

“Leo, what on earth are you doing?” Hazel's voice cut through Leo’s thoughts.

“I’m working with Satan, take a wild guess.”

“Yikes,” Hazel cringed. “How’s that going for you?”

“She walks out at the beginning of rehearsal, refuses to talk or work cooperatively and insults me as well as Salsa itself at every chance she gets- so Hazel, you tell me. How do you think it’s going?”

“Leo I’m sor-”

“-And it’s not even the fact that she insults me, it’s the way she treats me and salsa. Like all of a sudden, I’m inferior because salsa has no ‘proper technique’. Like wow, ballet is so sophisticated and you’re so cool. Congratulations, you and your pretty arms and pretty legs and fancy, snazzy vocabulary!” Leo ranted. Hazel, who was more used to the more creative and funnier side of her partner, frowned; she was slightly worried about him.

“Maybe consider dropping out on her?” Hazel offered.

“What will I do though? We both know that I can’t get on the team with a solo. Salsa works best with a partner. Besides, sure Calypso is the devil spawn, but that does not mean I don’t appreciate good technique.”

Hazel raised her eyebrow. “Didn’t you say that Luke, Annabeth and Nico all had better technique than she did?”

Leo, who was smiling smugly and had both his eyes closed, cracked one open and let his smile grow across his face.

“A small lie never hurt her nor anybody else.”

Hazel, who seemed quite unconvinced, nodded as Leo continued.

“What about you?” Leo asked. “How’s things coming up with the B-boy?”

Immediately, Hazel lit up. “It’s pretty good actually. I think Frank and I actually have a good chance of making the team!”

Leo noticed how Hazel had seemed so keen to talk about Frank and took this as an opportunity to tease her.

“So does that mean you won’t need me to fake being your boyfriend again?”

“What?” Hazel took a glance at Leo’s smirk. “No! No, we’re just friends. Friends, yes, yes. Just friends. He’s just a friend.”

“Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself more than me.”

“I’m. Not. Crushing. On. Frank,” She gritted out with her fists clenched.

“Okay,” Leo said in a sing-song sort of tune.

“I’m not!” She shouted before lowering her voice to a small whisper. “ Not after Sammy.”

Leo’s features immediately softened at the mention of his older brother. Hazel talking about Sammy had opened up old wounds that Leo thought had healed- he thought he was over this!

“After all this time Hazel? Still Sammy?”

Leo half expected her to say ‘always’ as if they were re-enacting Harry Potter. Secretly, he hoped that she didn’t. What had happened with Sammy was long ago and Leo never wanted to see Hazel in such pain again. They weren’t just dancer partners like himself and Calypso, they were friends. Hazel, to Leo’s avail did not respond; they remained silent the entire rehearsal.

In Studio A... Nico had never wanted to punch someone in the face as much as he wanted to punch Jason in this very moment. Afterall, it was Jason’s fault that Nico was partnering with Will. It wasn’t that Nico didn’t like Will, it was just that working with someone who was annoyingly attractive (Nico’s exact words were a hot piece of ass) often resulted in not working as well as one should.

It also meant Nico had to wear his tap shoes.

“Will, do I have to wear these?” Nico complained.

“We’re testing out ideas. We start with tap and then we’ll do ballet.”

“So that means I will see you in pointe shoes then?” Nico inquired, his voice suspiciously innocent and his eyes battering too fast. Will, in response, grimaced and nodded reluctantly.

“Perfect!” Nico hummed happily. The pain of tap shoes was nothing compared to pointe shoes. As Will laughed slightly at Nico’s taunting, they began going over the basics. Nico watched as naturally the corners of Will’s lips twitched upwards as he danced and taught. His smile was perfect, his moves in sync with the music blaring in the background- practically flawless.

Nico however, struggled a bit with certain parts that Will taught- not that he was surprised; he expected tap to be overly energetic. While they both took their break, Nico began spinning round and round on his tap shoes. He couldn’t really help it- they were so easy to spin on- it was like they were just begging him to turn.

“Nico, stop spinning like that, you’ll fall and get hurt,” Will warned as he sat in a corner, sipping at his water bottle. Nico ignored him and continued mucking about- only stopping to stick his tongue out at Will who on countless occasions, continued to attempt to warn Nico. Will could feel his own heart fluttering at the thought of an injury.

“Fuck!”

Will’s head snapped in towards Nico who lay on his butt, clutching his ankle. The ballet dancer was hunched over his foot, cradling his ankle with both hands.

“Shit! Nico I warned you! Where does it hurt?” Will asked with a thick layer of concern in his voice as he ran over. Slowly, Nico began shuddering, his body almost shivering as he made whimper-like noises. He refused to meet Will’s eyes as he continued shaking.

‘Shit, he probably injured himself really badly if he’s crying’ was the first thought to cross Will’s mind.

“Oh my God,” Nico said shakily. Will gently rested his hand on Nico’s shoulder comfortingly.

“Nico, it’s going to be okay. It’s probably a minor fracture at the most. You will be fine.”

Unexpectedly and out of nowhere, Nico threw his head back and began laughing.

“Holy moly, I can’t believe you actually fell for it!” Nico wheezed as he clutched his stomach. “And your face!”

Will in utter disbelief, took about 30 seconds to fully understand the situation and yet these were the first 5 words.

“You were lying to me?”

“It was a joke! I was just trying to prove that Ballet dancer’s aren’t as uptight as everyone thinks we are!” Nico laughed. Will could not believe this. He should have never partnered with Nico especially considering he was friends with Percy and Jason of all people. He started packing up, aggressively shoving his stuff into his sports bag. Nico’s laughter died down as he turned to Will, confusion growing on his face.

“Hey, where are you going?”

Viciously, Will turned on him. “I’m going to go dance. I’m not going to hang about with an immature and undedicated dancer.”

“Surely a small prank doesn’t change anything. I mean, there’s a reason you chose me-”

“- I chose you because I wanted a hardworking and professional partner, not some bumbling idiot who walks around like they own the place and does what they want!” With that, Will left and Nico sat on the floor.

Welp, Nico was never socialising with Will again.

In Rehearsal room 4... “Turn, turn, push back and drop!” Piper yelled over the loud music. Jason and Piper had been working hard- taking turns in choreographing different parts of the routine. They held their freeze for 5 seconds before relaxing and agreeing to take a break.

“So what was that earlier with Nico, huh?” Piper started.

“What d’ya mean?” Jason innocently responded. “ He needed a partner.”

“So I was imagining the look you guys had?”

“What look?” Jason sounded shocked.

“You guys had a look.”

“Like you and Annabeth?”

Piper could feel the immediate blush rising to her cheeks. She couldn’t help the way she felt- was it her fault that he best friend had gorgeous curly blonde hair and dazzling blue eyes? She turned her head slightly away so Jason couldn’t see her face.

“Nico and I go way back- we trust each other,” Jason chose his wording very carefully.

“Well… So do Annabeth and I…”

“Good… wanna go over the Hip hip section again?” Jason offered, desperate to change the awkward tension that had suddenly appeared in the air. Piper eagerly nodded.

In the Cafe... “What do you mean she’s with Leo? Frank, they’re just dance partners, nothing more,” Annabeth re-assured. She sat in the elegant armchair opposite Frank with Percy on her left. They were in the cafe that was underneath the studio- it was custom for the dancers to meet up here during lunch.

“But… are you sure?” Frank asked for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

“I give you my word Frank- they’re just good friends.”

At these words, Frank relaxed. That was until Leo and Hazel both walked in silently; their bodies close to each other but their faces catatonic. As they came to sit down, they both moved towards the same seat and exchanged a series of bumps, ‘ouches’ and ‘errms’ until they managed to sit down. Annabeth and Percy exchanged a wary look as the awkward silence between the two stretched out.

Nico stormed in, his face scrunched up as he ordered a coffee and plopped himself on the armrest of the chair that his ballet partner, Annabeth, was sitting in. He had a dark, raging and violent aura around him and carried on sulking until Annabeth spoke up.

“Nico, is that coffee?” Her voice had a hint of worry.

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “What’s up with you two? Lovers quarrel?” Nico pointed to Leo and Hazel who both immediately froze up. Leo, who was mid- sip, choked and began wheezing for air while Hazel gently patted him on the back. Frank, subconsciously, flinched.

“Dancers quarrel,” Hazel sighed after Leo had stopped choking before turning towards her brother.

“Wait, you’re drinking coffee? Again?” Hazel raised her eyebrows at Nico. The last time she recalled him drinking coffee… Well family tensions had been higher than ever, Nico was a literal caffeine addict and Hazel had been helping the ‘love of her life’. Nico had gotten over the caffeine addiction, well at least, she hadn’t seen him touch the substance in years so the sudden appearance of it alarmed her- What had happened to him that drove him back to coffee? Nico on the other hand, simply batted his hand signalling ‘later’.

“Does anybody want to break the awkward silence?” Percy murmured out of the corner of his mouth, looking down at his fidgeting hands.

“I heard an awkward silence needs breaking?” Jason appeared before them. “ Guess what?”

Almost immediately, the entire crowd perked up and asked ‘what?’

“Nu uh, I actually want you guys to guess.”

“Did your new pointe shoes break in?” Annabeth suggested.

“Please get to the pointe,” Leo tutted. Jason shot his roommate, a playful scowl, as he was used to the terrible jokes. Everyone else (except Percy) groaned, throwing their heads back and Hazel face palmed at the terrible jokes- sometimes she asked herself why they were friends.

“You guys are pathetic,” Jason hummed, his arms folded smugly.

“Bro, just tell us!” Percy pleaded, sick of the timely wait.

Jason took a deep breath, holding the tension out for as long as possible. “Well… Chiron’s returning!”

“Like returning returning or just visiting returning?” Annabeth immediately cut in, stopping all the whoops that had erupted from the happy news. Well mainly happy. After the incident, Chiron was left without half a leg which stopped his dance career. It had been hard for him and the dancers around him- tensions had never been worse within the studio and so for the sake of the dancers, Chiron had left to teach dance theory. He had visited every once in a while but if he was ever going to come back- since he was the owner of the studio- no one really knew.

“He didn’t really specify…”

“On the plus side, he’s probably gotten like what 14 new stories about the wheelchair?” Annabeth exclaimed. Percy, who knew about the wheelchair, threw his head back laughing as he remembered the previous stories of it. As they fell into a conversation recalling all the previous stories about the wheelchair, Leo had to clutch his stomach while laughing.

“I love that dude- he’s the only one who doesn’t take Calypso’s bullshit.”

A piercing voice came out from behind them. “Well, Calypso had been looking for you this past week. Where have you been?”

Outraged, Leo retorted, “Where have I been, where have you been?”

As the two started shouting their heads off at each other, the group of people fell silent and everyone agreed to leave them to it. Before Hazel left, she noticed the darker undertones of Calypso’s normally flawless skin as well as her red rimmed eyes.

“So, where have you been?” Leo repeated, almost drawling. Calypso ignored the question and instead told Leo to meet her in Studio A (Leo rolled his eyes at the choice of studio) in a half hour. Leo had to clench his hands to stop himself from making some sort of witty smart- alec response; he wanted to try his best to get along with Calypso because the sooner they finished the routine, the quicker he’d be able to get on the team and avoid her.

Back in Rehearsal room 4... Jason was very lucky to have Piper as a partner- mainly due to her great ability to adapt to new styles. Having a famous father who could easily (and would happily) pay for anything she asked, Piper was gifted. From her good looks, her various talents and her sparkling personality, one could say that Piper Mclean had it all.

Oh, how wrong one could be.

They had agreed to perform a musical theatre routine focusing on hip hop and tap- the styles which moulded together best. They were doing well with their choreography and had finished their routine and were now going over it- making sure everything was clean and worked.

“Hey, let's take a break here,” Piper panted lightly with her hands resting on her thighs. Jason nodded with a brief smile on his face- could you blame him? He had managed to improve his tap by miles compared to the small amount of improvement he would have made with any other person. He jogged towards their bags and pulled out both of their water bottles;he threw Piper’s bottle at her. Perfectly, she caught it .

“Our routine is great, we totally have a chance at making the team,” Piper told Jason as she took a sip of water and plopped herself on the bean bag in the corner of the room by their bags.

“Percy and Annabeth’s chemistry may blow everyone out of the water,” Jason said mindlessly as he sipped water. Piper visibly flinched at the statement- it was small but noticeable for Jason.

“What? What’s wrong? If it’s those two, trust me- they’ll be too busy fooling around to perfect their routine.”

Again, Piper seemed a tad uncomfortable. She had tried to not cringe at the mention of Annabeth but it was quite hard when Jason kept on mentioning it like it was simply nothing. Her face had momentarily scrunched up before she quickly attempted to smooth it out. Jason frowned with an expression that simply read ‘What’s wrong?’

“Well… uh, Annie,” Piper hesitantly started, trying to find an easier way to explain. “I have really short nails.”

“Okay…?” Jason, utterly confused by the random fact, frowned again. Piper sighed at his innocent persona and tried to emphasize what she was implying.

“There’s a reason I have short nails…”

“Because you don’t like long nails?”

Piper, impatient, facepalmed and decided to find a better explanation. She turned to his sister as an easier topic.

“Why does your sister have short nails?”

Jason’s face scrunched up for a few seconds, looking up towards the ceiling before his eyes bugged a bit and his lips pursed into an ‘o’ shape.

“Oh! Oh… so like lesbian or-”

“Bi.”

Jason took a deep breath. “ Well, I'm happy you felt comfortable enough to tell me and I’m proud of you...and I hope you’re happy Pipes.”

She nodded, more confident and happy that Jason hadn’t made too much a deal of it- he was a dear friend whose opinion she cared about dearly. She felt she could truly trust him.

“Soo… Annabeth huh?” Jason wiggled his eyebrows. Piper smacked his arm before retorting back.

“I’ve seen how you look at Percy- looks like a budding bromance to me.”

Jason choked on his water, sputtering everywhere and was left absolutely speechless.

In Rehearsal room 1... “5, 6, 7, 8!” Calypso calles as they started the sectioned choreography again. Leo internally groaned as they started again with practically no enthusiasm behind his moves. While the dance wasn’t bad, Leo wasn’t afraid to call out the dance so far was bland. It was all classical ballet and no spice. It was too boring for him and if he were an audience member he would take away points for lack of creativity. After what seemed like 4 days but was actually 40 seconds, they finished.

“Make sure your turns are in time with mine,” Calypso pointed out as she paused the music. Leo had to physically hold in the urge to make a remark. He glanced at his watch and his eyes almost bugged out of his skull. It was 4pm? Already? He knew he had to leave now or else he was going to be late. He grabbed his bag and started changing his shoes ino more suitable footwear. He snacthed his jacket, slipped it on in a rush and almost walked into the door due to the rush he was in.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Calypso’s voice coming from behind made Leo freeze. Shit. What was he going to say? Where were his excuses?

Breathe Leo, make a simple lie- can’t be too hard.

“Uh.. just grabbing something from the cafe. I think I left something there.” He jutted his thumb towards the door before slipping out to avoid Calypso’s questions. He had one more stop to make before he left.

In Studio B... Frank was learning a lot from working with Hazel. Other than the obvious (like her beauty being even greater up close), he also learnt more about salsa than he ever had in his entire life. Their routine was finally complete but they were trying to find the perfect place to insert a lift. The timing for it had to be perfect. Too slow and Frank gets injured. Too fast and Hazel falls.

As they rehearsed the routine and approached the final move, Hazel slipped- effectively pushing Frank on his back and Hazel falling right on top with her body pressed against him; practically straddling him. Frank’s head made a loud ‘thud’ sound on making contact with the solid floor- clearly it had won this battle between head and floor.

“Oh my goodness! Are you okay?” Hazel rushed out, still unaware of the compromising position. Frank nodded meekly, not wanting to further aggravate the pain in his head and reached his hand to rub the back of his head. It was only then did their eyes meet, Hazel’s eyes widening at the realisation of the position. Just as she was going to scramble off, Leo busted through the door. Frantically, Leo sputtered,

“Oh, sorry… er am I interrupting something?” Hazel almost flew off Frank and quickly made her way to Leo who now bore a small smile on his face,

“Just friends huh?” Leo mumbled. Hazel ignored the comment and instead asked what Leo was doing here.

“I gotta leave for work and Calypso is on my ass. Do me a favour- if she asks where I went say I had an appointment or something,” he whispered, his mood changing rapidly. Hazel nodded, loyal to her friend and ran to her sports bag. She whipped out her purse before waddling back to Leo, her fingers mindlessly rifling through the notes in her purse as if it was worth nothing more than paper.

“How much do you need for the bus fare?”

Leo’s hand immediately pushed back at Hazel’s purse, who again, ignored it. He was not about to take her money- not again at least, not until he paid her back for the previous times. It was hard though, because Hazel always insisted everything be on her and refused to allow him to pay her back in any way.

“Hazel, I’ve told you. I don’t want to take your money,” Leo pleaded, his face seemingly uncomfortable. Sure, he didn’t want Hazel’s money but he did want money.

“Ridiculous.” Hazel shook her head as if the mere idea of her caring whether he paid her back or not was utter ludicrous. She pulled out a thick wad of cash. “I don’t care. Here. Should be enough for the bus fares, lunch and other stuff.”

Leo hesitated. He needed this money. Bus fares, food expenses, new dance clothes and his share of the rent along with other things. But the idea of taking Hazel’s money always left a bitter taste afterwards- he hated feeling guilty over her money. Hazel on the other hand, was not going to let Leo refuse and shoved the cash into Leo’s pocket before pulling him in a tight and surprising hug. Her arms were wrapped around Leo’s back and in return, he closed his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder. She smelt like flowers- no doubt from the expensive products she could easily afford along with the fact that her step-mother, Persophone, owned a fragrance line among other things.

“Gracias,” he muttered, squeezing her shoulder in an affectionate manner.

With the short knowledge of spanish she knew from her best friend, Hazel replied, “De nada.”

Confused, Frank watched the entire interaction.

Back in Studio A... Annabeth and Percy were not practising. While every dancer, perhaps excluding Nico, were nervously practicing every beat of a move they performed, Annabeth and Percy were not really stressing. In fact, they hadn’t worked much on their routine in general. Annabeth was lying on her stomach with her face in her hands and her legs dangling back and forth. Percy sat next to her, with his arms around his legs. They were both listening to their ex-mentor who was in a wheelchair. Chiron was simply talking about something that had recently happened with his two favourite students.

“He did what!” Percy and Annabeth shouted in sync.

“I told him that if he performed, he would have been scouted, but alas- Luke refused. He came with me but it was a true shame I didn’t get to see him perform. He’s been with the studio for so long now, I do find it odd that he has yet to move to a professional career,” Chiron sighed- slumping slightly in his wheelchair.

“How’s the leg doing?” Annabeth asked, hoping the subject was no longer sore.

“Which one?” Chiron smiled mischievously as he pulled the blanket off his legs- showing both legs seemed present. Normally, the bottom half of the left leg would seem empty unlike what they were seeing now. Percy looked a bit confused for a few seconds.

“But… but Chiron, you only have one leg.”

Annabeth slapped her head before breaking into fits of laughter. Both her and Chiron were laughing their heads off until Annabeth kindly explained.

“Prosthetics Percy! Prosthetics!”

Chiron flexed his left foot, showing off his new leg. The dancers were awe-struck. As far as they had known- Chiron had refused prosthetics since the accident. They felt an insurmountable amount of pride swell inside of them- This was good right? Chiron was moving on! He wasn’t being stuck in the past anymore. It wasn’t that fact that he got a prosthetic, it was the reason he used to refuse it. Annabeth and Percy knew that he didn’t want a prosthetic at first because if he couldn’t dance using it, he’d consider himself a failure and after the accident, he did not want to face any more failure than he had to- he wanted to protect himself.

And for a while, that was okay! The studio was supportive- they truly wanted him to heal. But Chiron was stubborn. He was -what one may dare even say- traumatised. But no one could truly blame him- Nico, someone who was barely conscious during the accident, suffered. No one could blame Chiron for what had happened but there looks. People who weren’t even relatively involved whatsoever casted glances. Gave their fair share of judgemental looks- despite not even knowing the truth. However, Chiron learnt better than to acknowledge said glances.

“Woah, Chiron, when did you get it fitted?” Percy asked in awe.

“A while ago. I wanted to manage a few steps in it before showing you all.”

Annabeth and Percy looked at eachother, the same thoughts, concerns and hopes crossing their minds.

“Can you take a few steps in it?” Annabeth said tentatively. Much to the students' hopes, Chiron nodded and both dancers ran to his side to help him stand. He held both of them as he heaved himself up and momentarily wobbled. He then pushed away their arms as he slowly made a few steps across the dance floor. He made his way towards the ballet bar, his hand stretching towards it. At this moment, Nico walked in, his jaw dropping before immediately resuming to a neutral facade.

“Nice leg,” Nico commented before making his way to the bar. Percy and Annabeth, once again, made eye contact thinking ‘what's up with him?’.

“ You ask him,” Annabeth hissed.

“No you ask him,”Percy mouthed as he nodded his head towards Nico.

“No, you!”

“I’m not asking him. Besides, he’s your dance partner,” Percy whispered. At this, Annabeth knew that Percy made a valid point. If there was anybody Nico trusted, besides Hazel for some apparent reason, it was Annabeth. The two danced together their entire lives, Nico couldn’t hide anything from her- not even his crush on Percy which many other people had seen as a crush on Annabeth herself. Annabeth on the other hand, could clearly tell the difference between jealousy and having a crush. Other than Annabeth and Jason, Nico refused for anyone else to know.

Annabeth sighed, shooting daggers at Percy as she got up and walked towards Nico. For the next 5 minutes, Nico and Annabeth stretched side by side in silence while Chiron and Percy chatted on the other side of the room.

“Soo.. how are things going with your routine?” Annabeth started as she leaned over her leg at the bar. Nico grunted something incomprehensible as he tried to avoid her by doing a plié. Annabeth joined him, asking him to speak up.

“Will walked out.”

“Why?”

“I played a dumb prank on him about getting injured.” Annabeth had to pinch herself to prevent herself from gasping. Nico? Her lifelong dance partner made… a joke? Pranked someone? Was this actually Nico?

“Well, why did you do it?”

“I was tryin to prove that Ballet dancers aren’t so uptight.”

“What exactly did you do?” Annabeth’s tone dipped and sounded slightly suspicious but either way, Nico did not notice.

“...Pretended to get injured… but that isn’t even the problem. My problem is that my chicken of a partner called me a bumbling, incompetent, priveleged idiot and then, then… they just bailed on me!”

Later, when Annabeth, Percy and Jason were in the cafe, Annabeth retold Percy and Jason about her earlier conversation with Nico- not sparing a single detail about the clear distress the situation was causing him.

“Happy now Jason? Paired Nico up with a damned jerk,” Percy said aggressively.

“I didn’t think he was such a big a bitch as you did!” Jason argued. Annabeth could sense the tension between the two men and decided to push them apart. She stood between them with her hands resting on her hips.

“I told you two so we could help fix what happened; not just argue over it and point fingers.”

“I never liked the damned sunflower anway,” Percy huffed. Annabeth resisted a giggle from Percy’s terrible insult.

“Anyway, someone needs to talk to him- see his point of view, try and get them over the petty argument.”

“Petty? Will insulted him over nothing!” Jason almost shouted, his aggressive and protective side shining through.

“Which we can all agree was wrong. But.” She glared at the men. “We also know that Nico can and will hold grudges over anything as long as time lasts.”

In agreement, they decided to all visit Will because there was no way in hell that Annabeth was letting Percy and Jason talk to Will alone.

Somewhere in the Dance studio... Calypso was pissed. It seemed that most days, she was thinking more about Leo than she’d prefer to. Sure, he was gorgeous- naturally gifted in the looks (and don’t tell him this but also the personality department) with his lucious brown curls that framed his face perfectly and the beautiful glint he’d have in his eye when he danced and they way his teeth would glimmer when he smiled like the true definition of pearly whites. But, she was also wondering about his whereabouts, more and more frequently.

She had checked the cafe, Studio 2 and Dionysus’s office (she did not know what to think of him) with no sign of Leo whatsoever. She knew that there would be only one person who would know where Leo was- Hazel. However, it seemed that Leo and Hazel both had something in common- the inability to be found anywhere.

Finally, she found her about to head out for the day entirely.

“Hey, Hazel.” Calypso tapped her on the shoulder, pulling her away from her conversation with Frank. “Have you seen Leo anywhere?”

With no tact whatsoever, Hazel stuttered out a ‘no’ that had Calypso raising her eyebrow in suspicion at her- clearly not believing the lie. Internally, Hazel forced herself to calm down and think. What had Leo mentioned, what could she use, what could she lie about?

Think Hazel, think!

Leo had mentioned saying something about an appointment- yes! Hazel mentally prepared herself and the words came magically stumbling out of her mouth- rolling off her tongue as if she lied on a daily basis.

“Well… you can’t tell anyone okay?” Hazel whispered convincingly, drawing Calypso's attention in. “ You can’t let Leo know that I told you this but he’s at an appointment, for his knee. He injured some time ago when we attempted a lift badly and well, you know…”

Calypso immediately felt regretful. It was like she was truly the villain half of the dancers here thought her to be. No wonder he was barely putting any effort into the dance! Not only was he injured but he was injured and doing ballet- a style he wasn’t so regularly familiar with. And she had been treating him like shit about it as well! She could feel the guilt slowly creeping into her.

“Oh my, Hazel.... I’m so, so sorry,” she managed to say. Hazel, also overwhelmed with guilt, wanted to take back the lie and just say the truth. Leo was at work to pay for his dance fees- why was he so ashamed of it! Hazel offered to pay for him but he would refuse everytime. She wished that he’d let her pay for him- her father had more money than he cared for and oftentimes, Nico and Hazel found themselves paying for everything they and their friends could truly desire- not that they minded. This was the one thing she could do for Sammy but not Leo and for it, her thoughts taunted her.

At least Sammy accepted her money, her help. Gods, don’t think like that Hazel. Money can’t save everyone, you know that Hazel.

Hazel glanced back up to see Frank waving at her and could only manage a small sullen smile.

On the way to Studio A... Calypso needed to get back to Studio A and perhaps find some edits for their routine- maybe lighten the ballet on Leo. Maybe Leo preferred Salsa because it was easier on his knee? It didn’t make sense to Calypso but despite not wanting to admit it, she had seen how happy it had made him. She’d have to ask Hazel or Dionysus about the technique of it but she had taken a few classes in it before and so she tried a few steps she’d seen Leo do before.

She soon realised that he made it look a lot easier than it actually was- she remembered how she had insulted salsa and it’s supposed ‘lack of technique’. But then, she also remembered how he’d insulted her by saying she wasn’t the ‘best ballet dancer’. What did that even mean? Her- not the best? Impossible. She had worked too hard her entire life for that to be possible.

For the sake of Leo and his knee (and reliving some of her guilt), Calypso persevered and tried to teach herself some basic salsa moves. The basics weren’t too hard, it was simply that trying to com[pletely abandon her ballet technique wasn’t very easy and subsequently, she found herself looking very stiff.

“What are you… doing?” a seemingly alarmed voice, that belonged to none other than her rival, called out. Flawless teeth, truffles of soft hair and glass like eyes- Luke Castellan walked in, his lips pulled into a smug smile that truly tempted Calypso to smack him.

“None of your business, Castellan,” Calypso quickly snapped.

“Castellan?” He turned towards her with an innocent look that quickly turned malicious. “That’s not what you were moaning under me whe-”

“-Shut up. That’s over, we’re over. We were over ages ago. It’s not happening again. Not after you lied to me.”

Luke frowned, his features seemingly cute but Calypso knew better than to trust what he portrayed on his face. When it came to Luke, the quote ‘there is no art to find the mind's construction in face’ should really be taken seriously. He moved himself so that he was working at the bar that was in front of the very mirror that Calypso was using. Calypso ignored him, going over the routine over and over again. However, Luke seemed determined to get in her way so he continued to stretch in front of the mirror until Calypso completely snapped.

“What?” Her hands were on her hips in a threating manner and face looked like she was ready to commit murder.

“Oh nothing.” Luke shrugged before quickly speaking again. “It’s just, I’d never imagine you’d actually partner with such… scum I guess.”

“A, why do you care who I partner with? B, Leo isn’t that bad,” Calypso reluctantly defended him. Leo to her definitely was that bad, but she sure as hell was not letting Luke know that.

“It’s a bit sad how you really downgraded after me… and I doubt that your nachos boy will be able to guarantee you a spot on the team…” Luke trailed.

Calypso had to admit that the name ‘nachos boy’ was hilarious and she definitely intended on calling Leo that some time.

“Are you okay?” Calypso’s concerned voice immediately threw off Luke. “Or have you just not seen a mirror in a while? Because anything could be considered an upgrade after you. Leo? That’s like what? A Triple upgrade in the least- Let it be known, when it comes to how good looking people at this studio are, you are like basically the last person.”

“And yet, you dated me. No, you pursued me even,” Luke teased, his voice with undertones of malice like a poison laced apple- sweet talking with a bitter aftertaste.

“People make mistakes.”Calypso shrugged casually as she grabbed her bag and left the room.

In the musical theatre office... “We just… wanted to make sure you and Nico were doing well with your routine,” Annabeth urged Will who refused to talk to Percy or Jason.

“So Nico sends other dancers to talk for him now?” Will frowned, relatively upset that Nico didn’t come to him. Sure, he had been really harsh and Nico did deserve an apology from him but he was hoping that Nico would come to him, not his three older and more experienced friends who seemed very threatening.

“He um, well Nico didn’t send us..” Jason said, slowly realising their mistake.

“So you decided to come and talk to me about our problem on his behalf without his permission or his acknowledgement? Did he even directly tell any of you what happened?”

“He told Annabeth!” Percy defended.

“And you wonder why we don’t get along,” Will sighed and facepalmed. “ Well, if it makes you feel any better, me and Nico are perfectly fine.”

“You guys… have talked?” Annabeth asked warily.

“We will.” And with that, Will waved them off.

9PM- Rehearsal room A Nico’s turns were consistent and his warm breath was forced out of his chest and he heavily breathed. The lights of the studio were all turned off except for the rehearsal room he was occupying. He could feel his leg muscles burning, telling him to stop but he ignored it, forcing his body into a state of pure divinity- his arms spread like a black swan, ethereal and elegant. His olive skin was shiny, a thin layer of sweat across his body and beads of perspiration forming on his forehead as he carried on moving. His feet pranced, hopped, turned, kicked, swept and jumped. In the lighting he looked like a god with his onyx eyes, framed by his dark eyelashes and messy hair that moved with his every step.

Click clack. Click Clack.

Immediately, Nico stopped, recognising the sound. He turned down the classical music and took a few bows, the sarcasm in his movement clear.

“Thank you, thank you,” Nico drawled, clearly slightly pissed.

“I didn’t even get to clap.” Will pouted. “Did my shoes give a good reminder?”

Nico nodded but refused to continue speaking to him. He refused to speak to Will until he felt like talking to him again- he wanted a decent apology which should include Mcdonalds and wine. Speaking of wine, Nico definitely wanted some after the day he’d had. He knew Hazel always had something delicious but she lived near their parents and that always presented the possibility of his father popping in- not that he really hated his father, it was his wife, Persephone (who had given Nico a perfume that had a flower that he was allergic to).

“Are you not gonna talk to me?” Will asked, his hands in his pocket and with a slightly disappointed tone.

“Okay. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I overreacted to something that was seemingly innocent and I shouldn’t have been such a…”

“Bitch?” Nico filled in.

Will let out a whole hearted laugh. “ Yeah, I guess bitch is the right word. Anyway, I’m really sorry that I called you that…I shouldn’t have judged you based on your friends.”

“Being forgiven will not be so easy.”

“Do you need a Happy meal?” Will teased until Nico’s silence filled the room. “Wait, seriously, just a happy meal? Deal.”

“Well, now that you mention it, some wine would be nice. Maybe a day away from the studio,” Nico mused as he stuffed his stuff into his bag carelessly. He’d hate himslef when he had to organise it at home but it was really late and Nico was hungry as fuck.

“I hear that Chiron is taking out some students to the beach this week. I’m pretty sure Calypso is coming, she’ll let me tag along and I’m sure Annabeth will drag you there anyway. We can have our… reunion then,” Will decided as they walked out of the studio. Nico stopped as he fished out the studio keys and locked up the font doors. Nico wasn’t truly fond of the beach but it was free food and a chance to hang around his friends.

“Sure.” Nico nodded. “It’s a date.”

Will watched as Nico got into his car. For some reason, Will felt himself blush at those very words- It’s a date.

Those words ended up replaying in Will’s head until they met again on Saturday.

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knifesxedge · 4 years ago

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❕ for party and 💬 for jet and 🎡 and 🌎 for you! mwah!

TY JORDAN i LOVE u ❣️❣️

❕has BLI been the primary factor for the problems in their life? + party poison

hm. that’s an interesting question. & it’s maybe gonna sound like a bit of a cop out but im going to say yes and no. because on the one hand you could argue that a lot of the turning points for the worse in his life have been because of BLI (the loss of their parents, the loss of a lot of their childhood, the crow program, day-to-day danger), but on the other, really, the CONSEQUENCES of things are because of how they ARE as a person & their ego (distancing from his brother, taking so long to leave the city, being cold to people & causing fights with crews they’re trying to trade with, ETC). and for my killjoys especially i think that BLI has less of an impact on what desert society is able to do compared to other people’s canons so. if there’s a problem in poison’s life there’s a fairly large chance they caused it themself

💬 what are their closest relationships? + jet star

jet star my beloved! jet is very close with their parents! he’s an only child & was part of their crew for a very long time before he met party and kobra so that makes sense but he calls them on the radio a few times a week and feel comfortable enough to tell them pretty much everything in their life his parents are very important to him. jet & cherri are also really close — this is something i’ve mentioned but cherri was fostered by jet’s parents and so they’re like siblings. then of course you’ve got the fab four and while jet is v close with all of them poison and jet are BEST friends. in a different way than kobra and ghoul are best friends — kobra & ghoul are like “hey let’s go try and skateboard down the roof at the radio station” and pois & jet are more like “let’s sit on the roof and talk for like five hours straight”. and their relationship doesn’t start for a long while (2 years after SING) but jet and pony have a will-they-won’t-they kind of close friendship & then very steady long-distance dating until pony eventually moves in to the diner (by the time that happens, cherri is also living there & while the girl has moved out, charlie has arrived and is an energetic child as well so as you might imagine the diner is crowded <- complimentary)

🎡 are there large zone gatherings or do people prefer to stay distant?

i think there ARE gathering places you can go to — the market, tommy’s, concerts, hyper thrust & other bars/clubs — but there’s definitely a “crew loyalty above all else” mentality so you definitely have people who don’t want to or trust interacting with other crews; and people do kind of stick with their own crew even in those larger settings so 🤷‍♀️

🌎 do you like AUs? if so, what's your favourite?

as a matter of fact (which. is kind of easy to guess probably but) i DO like aus (which is why i write so many i just think they’re fun not even just for danger days) but in terms of a FAVORITE that’s hard. i really love your android au & you know that but ummm. i love city aus in general (im trying really hard here not to just say all the things you said but) & oh i think that @/theultravs warriors au is really fun & good! and yk this one but i love this canon-divergent fic abt poison in a groundhog-day-style timeloop. in terms of my own fics ballet au is v close to my heart as is the sw au!

anyways THANK U JORDAN ilysm! 🥺❣️💕 ty for the ask!!!

send me DD asks!

#pi's personal #query on top #danger days #hcs #treasured mutuals #jordan tag ⚠️#!!!!!!#i LOVE u MWAH #ask game

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gretchensinister · 4 years ago

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I too am curious about 3, combined with 5? also 15 and this might be a nightmare question but, 22 for DoL

3: Do you have any upcoming WIPs? How far along are you with them?

5: Share a snippet that you’re proud of from an upcoming fic/chapter.

Okay so. The WIPs. 1. The farthest along is the college students in a cabin being killed by a monster story, which I wrote for a Pitch Black Halloween event a couple years ago and now I am editing to publish as its own novel. I’m actually at the last scene! Unfortunately I also need to rewrite the last scene because the current last scene basically introduces two new characters and I think that damages the effect I’m going for with the story overall. It’s a story with a small cast and very few extras and closing on strangers adds distance between reader and story which I don’t want.

2. Then there’s my Phantom of the Opera fic, which yes it has been maybe a year since I worked on it, but I really want to finish it and put it into the world. I just thought it would be shorter, since I repeatedly said to @marypsue, “I’m not going to rewrite the Phantom of the Opera”…cut to card saying “Gretchen rewrites the Phantom of the Opera.”

3. There’s the fic I was working on for Dead Dove Day. I wanted to write some smut with a completely blank slate being introduced to sex by someone with tons of experience (which apparently now gets a frowny face put in one’s file) and also every character has dual genitalia (I’m still waiting for the paperwork to come back about whether I’m allowed to fantasize about that or not, and then of course there’s all the other forms to determine if I’m allowed to encourage other people to also fantasize about this). The smut is done unless I add another scene at the end but it developed a plot so I’m trying to resolve that.

4. There’s some simple! classic! blacksand! that won’t resolve for some reason and makes me feel like I lost the ability to write. I know this isn’t true but it’s like…I need to be writing this in class or something. I need to be getting away with it.

5. Last, there’s blackgeneral which I have put in a human AU and made even worse! But if you’ve never written something where you wonder at least a little bit if it would fail the Miller Test, have you even lived?

Now for some samples, in the order in which they were mentioned (lmao this got long):

1. “Did you see that, did you see that?”

“What was that?”

“Yeah, I saw it but—”

“It was tall, it was tall, it was a bear!”

“No, it was skinny! It couldn’t have been a bear!”

“And anyway, it was fucking gray!”

“Okay, okay,” Gabe said when things had quieted down a little. “Everything looks kind of gray in this light.”

“I’m not really concerned with its color!” Sugar said.

Kelly had stood up in all the commotion and now moved behind Gabe, resting her hands on his shoulders. She hadn’t liked the look of that thing in the woods, but now Gabe was pointing his flashlight down into the lake, and that was actually worse for her.

“Shine your light at it again,” Sandy said. “We’ll either frighten it away or get a better idea of what it is.”

They waited tensely as Gabe swept the trail again, revealing nothing.

“I don’t know if anyone else is thinking this,” Minnu said, “but I thought…I thought it kind of looked like a guy.”

“Yeah,” Gabe said, after a moment. “Yeah, it kind of did.”

“That kind of seems worse,” Sugar said.

“True,” Sandy said. “So, what should we do? I vote for going back to the cabin.”

“And I think we should go without our phone lights or flashlights,” said Sugar. “If that was a guy, he could have a gun.”

“The person that was found dead wasn’t killed by any gun,” Kelly said after a short pause.

“Well, this could be someone entirely different,” Sugar said. “It’s not like there’s a rule, only one thing that can kill you in the forest at a time. In fact, it’s pretty much the opposite of that.”

“Guys, guys,” Sandy said. “I know this isn’t the most normal thing to say, but…are we really sure that that thing looked like a…well, a human guy?”

2. She screams. She screams her sorrow and her rage, and her rage is at the way of the world but also at herself; why had she been a coward? All she had done was seen, and she had still frozen in fear? All she had were her hands, but should she not have used them? She should have flown forward and strangled the man! But she had only frozen, frozen and silently watched, as if she was nothing more than the ornament she was supposed to be.

“You will hurt yourself, screaming like that,” a voice says, then.

No one else is in the chapel with her. She checked many times in succession before closing the door. The voice is that of no one. A ghost.

But the abruptness reminds her of Mme. Giry as she instructs the corps de ballet on form. You will hurt yourself, bending like that.

But since no one is here, she responds as if she is alone. “No one ever taught me how to properly scream.” As she says this, she can feel the rawness of her throat. It hardly matters, she has no solos approaching, and probably never will.

“Do you want to learn?” the voice asks. “I could teach you.”

“What would be the point? No one wants me to scream.”

“No one wants me to do anything,” the voice says. “But I know how to do many things.”

The shape of her mouth flickers towards a smile. The concept is oddly enticing: to build a skill that no one wants. And this voice, that is oddly enticing, too. It reminds her of the heavy velvet that she’d noticed in the costume shop one day, brushed to a shimmering dark red like a fire behind smoked glass. The soft weight of it had been a glory in her hands that sent a strange shiver all down her spine.

And just as she knows that velvet doesn’t grow on trees, she knows that this wonderful voice didn’t come naturally, either. A lot of work went into its creation, and right now, she is the only one being given that beauty. That’s enticing, too.

It seems she’s taken too long to respond, for the voice speaks again. “I could teach you how to sing as well as scream. I’ve heard you sing on your own before, away from the chorus. You could be the greatest soprano the opera has ever heard.”

“Singing is something they want,” she says. “And you say…the greatest. Do you think I could be sublime, as a soprano?”

“Sublime,” the voice muses, and the slow word makes her shiver again. “I have met few who truly desire to be sublime.”

“I do.”

This time it is the voice that takes a long time to respond. “I believe you,” it finally says, sounding curious, and a little sad. “Yet I do not fully understand you. Perhaps I will if I teach you. And I can. I have far more experience with sublimity than with beauty.”

“Your voice is beautiful,” she says tentatively, “at least it is as you speak to me. But I hear in it something that tells me you can easily transcend with it to the sublime. I only wish to say, from hearing you, I would guess you had experience with both.”

“You do not know what you say,” the voice replies, with control so careful she cannot be sure what it conceals, “but that is all very well. You will have a voice with sublimity waiting behind its beauty, this I swear. Sublimity will be yours to hold to heel or to unleash, and when you do—”

“Yes,” she interrupts. “What then?”

She can hear a smile in the voice now, at her eagerness. “At the very least,” the voice says, “you’ll be able to shatter glass.”

She smiles too, imagining. “Every globe in the chandelier, from the stage.” It is a reckless wish, and a thoughtless one—she does not really want to rain glass down upon the audience, or if they were not there, to make the cleaning-women sweep up thousands of razor-sharp shards. But if she could, oh, it’s an uncanny thing to do. Not a pretty thing.

“If you have the will, I will show you the way,” says the voice. “If you agree, will you tell me your name?”

“Yes, and yes,” she says. “And my name is Christine Daae. But what is yours?”

“I am the ghost,” he says.

3. The Pitch held Sandy close with one arm while their other hand flowed down Sandy’s body, slow and sweet like honey. They bent to kiss Sandy’s mouth as they fondled their full breasts. And it wasn’t—it wasn’t as if the Pitch spent a long time at the stiff points of Sandy’s nipples. They were too sensitive for that right now, the line between pleasure and pain too thin. But they did touch, and the touch of their inhumanly long fingers felt somehow both reverent and barely restrained. Sandy knew this could only be their projection onto such a new Pitch, but knowing didn’t make the feeling go away. It didn’t stop them from going half-mad with it, their cunt getting wetter and their cock getting harder, barely a breath away from begging the Pitch to pinch them, hard, to fall over the line of pain to see if there was pleasure on the other side.

But that was part of a different lesson, and not something every owner wanted their Pitch to learn. Sandy wasn’t quite sure it was what they wanted, either, except that it would be more sensation and more was what they wanted from the Pitch.

But of course the Pitch could give more, and of course they would give more. That was what they were for.

The Pitch caressed their belly luxuriantly, their speeding breath and some soft sounds muffled by their mouth on Sandy’s proclaiming their absolute delight in every curve of Sandy’s very ordinary body. And again it felt like real desire, as if the Pitch had forgotten that the point of their actions was to arouse Sandy. As if it was assured, as if there was a long understanding of mutuality between them, as if indulging themselves with Sandy was something they knew Sandy would enjoy.

As for the last, with Sandy, they were right. Every greedy touch of the Pitch’s hands was a gift, a drug.

A drug that opened the mind to some dangerous ideas. Pitches are made for pleasure. If I could choose a pleasure construct I’d choose a Pitch. I’d choose this Pitch. Precocious Pitch and I wonder, I wonder if in a different world where Pitches are what the born look like, if this Pitch would commission a Sandy if they could. It should have been unthinkable. But pleasure constructs were also made to make the unthinkable possible.

So obedient, and they come with their own built-in taboos for you to think about breaking!

4. Conversation is all right, Sandy said. If you can find someone to do it with. But there are things I like better. He looked up at Pitch. Things I think you might like better, too.

“Is that so? You know something good enough to make me be good?”

Sandy grinned, now, and Pitch—Pitch absolutely felt his heart beat faster, though it was getting harder now to say that this was out of panic or even simple fear.

I don’t know if it’s that powerful, but I’d be happy to give it a try, Sandy said. What do you think?

What did Pitch think? He felt like somehow he’d been herded through a great number of corridors in his mind and now he had reached a dead end. Or—not exactly a dead end. It was just that all the doors around him were ones he had locked tightly, and he had tried to forget that he still had the keys. It was the Sandy wing of his mind, and now the real Sandy was blocking him from leaving the corridor the way he came, and spinning a key ring around his little golden finger. If Sandy unlocked any of those doors, then he’d see…he’d see…

Maybe…Sandy would see something he…liked?

“Try me,” Pitch said, giving the words an unsuitable earnestness.

5. Porcelain skin and blue-black hair from their mother. Sharp angular faces, proud aquiline noses, and bones that promised height from their father. And yet their mother’s influence performed alchemy on these traits, somehow making them gracile, proving that on those infinitesimal spiral staircases of fate, she would always have the higher ground. Their lips might be thinner than hers, but they were still perfectly formed to bring to mind sensuality, even from this young age. They might be forbidden cosmetics, but the lashes she gave them were long and thick enough that no one who saw them would be able to stop themselves from wondering. And their eyes, of course, were hers, that exquisitely rare and exotic topaz had completely overshadowed their father’s pure northern blue. There was just enough of their father in their looks that they could be no one else’s sons, but the rest of their looks whispered this open secret: Though he was powerful enough to wed and bring to childbed the most beautiful woman within a thousand miles, claiming such beauty meant that he would never have a son quite in his image. That single, perfect, impregnable vessel of immortality for himself was nothing but a ghost. What he had, after having everything else, was this uncanny pair. Warped reflections of their mother, warped reflections of their father.

And perfect reflections of each other.

15: Which fic that you’ve written relates to you and your personal life the most?

A Draught of Light. I was working through a lot of stuff in that fic and while writing it, I’m not done working out everything I was working out in that fic, and bizarrely it seems to continue to become more relatable to me as years pass, even through situations I could not have possibly have foreseen. But also Speak Oil Into My Ear is very near and dear to me because of how much of Austin, TX I put into it, and that’s where I was living when I wrote it.

22: Have you used any symbolism in A Draught of Light? What does it represent?

You mentioned this might be a nightmare question and I guess it kind of is, because DoL is like…not subtle in any way. That’s just how it is. Any symbolism is baked into the magic system because it’s how magic works—if a light adept can figure out how to understand what they’re doing as related to illuminating/revealing/opening etc., then they can do it with light. If a shadow adept can understand a working as related to concealing/vanishing/hiding etc., then they can do it with shadow. Fire is change, water is healing/restoration. The ending doesn’t go full allegory but like. For those who are familiar it’s very obvious why I would think of this story more around Easter than around the autumn equinox, when it’s actually set.

But! Story time! When this story started, it was partially due to three factors: a kinkmeme prompt that I wasn’t sure if my idea actually addressed, a round pool at the apartment complex I lived in at the time, and a dream I had where I was standing in this underground circular stone chamber, and I clapped my hands and water began flowing from them, and (here’s the symbolism) in the dream I knew that the water represented forgiveness. (Though that’s not really what it means in DoL.

#tejoxys

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taecalikook · 5 years ago

Text

What we are not; Soulmates (chapter 1)

summary: you love yoongi with all your heart throughout these five years being in a relationship with him. you always thought he is the one — your one, even when the infamous soulmate signs are still not showing. yet you always wait, because you know it’s him you are destined to be with, forever. but what would happen if then his childhood best friend comes along, with the universe-signed telltales that you have been looking for true love in all the wrong places?

{soulmate!au, established relationship!au}

pairing: min yoongi x female reader x kim taehyung

genre: fluff, angst, emotional hurt and slow burn(?) i guess lol

chapter : prologue | chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | epilogue

word counts : 9.038

=================

Five years.

Tomorrow will mark the five years you have been together with Yoongi. You met him when you were performing at your ballet recital six years ago, when you were still a hopeful ballerina student. He is mixing the music—with the reference from Hoseok, your dancer friend. Hoseok always used Yoongi’s remixes for his dancing routines and you always loved them, so you show interest in working with the infamous producer even if your ballet is 180 degree contrasts from Hoseok’s street dance mixes. Gladfully, at that time Yoongi agreed to the job (you can’t deny that Hoseok really did pull a few strings to convince him to take such a never-done-before job).

Few nights spent together to practice and mix to perfect the routines bloomed into something more. You liked him—obviously with the way you always expressed how much you care for him and his well-being, but Yoongi was just.. being Yoongi. You found several times that Yoongi might reciprocate how you felt about him—about his careful touches and how much he minded your health—but you figured he could act the same with other people too. It was confusing and heartbreaking simultaneously.

And to mention that if it were not for Hoseok, Yoongi probably will never say to you what you actually mean to him. After several abhorring mutual pining and an over-the-top recital, you were already accepting your fate that he might not be the one for you. But when Yoongi shows up in front of your apartment with your favorite purple tulips—a bucket of them and an embarrassed smile, you know you are sold. For him.

It has been quite a journey, all the ups and downs with the most unromantic person ever to breathe on this planet. Well, that's over exaggerating but at least the point is taken, right? Yoongi is emotionally constipated, that’s one efficient way of explaining it. He is truly the kind of boyfriend who will pat your head like a freaking puppy and calls it affection. Yoongi also spends most of his time in the studio, making music and beautiful lyrics, and you love how in love he is about his music—especially when his passion is the one introducing you to him—but you cannot lie that you wish that he would pay more attention to you too.

But now you are getting restless. Where are the signs?

Yoongi is the one for you, your heart just knows it. He speaks love, and his gentleness and understanding are immeasurable. He takes care of you the best, like no one ever does, even better than your parents. But how come the signs that he is rightfully your soulmate are not showing?

Ah, soulmate. There are a lot of stories about them. Some may find them on the train home from work. Some may find them while ordering coffee in the cafe near university. Some may take a little more time, one day touching with their best friend and feel the electricity, and there will be signs of a matching soulmate. You just hope it is the latter, yet the restlessness grows with an immaculate speed inside your mind. It’s already five years of you in a commitment relationship with Yoongi and nothing, not even a single clue shown. Whenever the restlessness strikes your pessimistic mind, you quickly take a breath and remind yourself that it should not affect your relationship with him. The right time will come.

“Baby, don’t forget I already booked a restaurant for tomorrow.” You warnfully remind him while putting all your ballet belongings into a duffel bag, gifted by Yoongi for your birthday two years ago. “I will never forgive you if you forget tomorrow.”

Yoongi’s light chuckle is heard on the other side of the call, unknowingly putting a gentle smile on your lips. You could not really imagine how Yoongi can cope up with your fretful ass, but otherwise you are glad he is here to stay. “Y/N, you already remind me for the third time today. Yes, of course I will come.”

“I just don’t want you bailing on me after I’m waiting for you at the restaurant. I am not letting our one year anniversary happen again.” You pouted, a flash of four years ago went inside your mind. A day prior to your one year anniversary, Yoongi spent the full night finishing his demo and overslept the whole day of your anniversary while you still idiotically believed that he was planning for a surprise. What a doofus, you thought bitterly. You would rather kill yourself than to let that happen again—or let Yoongi take the lead to plan your anniversaries.

“Of course… sweetheart.” Yoongi hesitatingly calls you pet name after a long pause, and a sly grin subtly forms on your lips. He is so cute when he is trying to be romantic. “I swear to the seven seas I will come to our anniversary dinner. As a matter of fact, I will be there with a nice shirt too. Would you like that?”

You hum your agreement, content with his thoughtful answer. Yoongi realizes how much these events meant to you—and his thoughts warmed all your being. After a short halt, you unknowingly speak your deepest fear, one topic that you both have been avoiding since forever. “I hope tomorrow the signs will come.” The words you let out brings a whole dense pause on his side—like it aggressively bothers him until he sighed into the communicator. “Don’t put pressure on it, Y/N.”

“I am just hoping. There is no fault in a mere hope.” You frown, disliking the accusing tone of his words. Yoongi answers with another silence, and you do not want to hear any insufficient answer to him regarding the topic, hence you just mutter a simple goodbye and end the call. And since Yoongi is not really the type to dwell on the possibility of you being mad at him, you sure he must be handling all these concerns well. It must be easy for him to disregard the fact that the soulmates signs are not showing for the both of you and it angers you. A lot.

A tear inevitably escapes your eye, but you quickly swipe it and run to your car, heading to the ballet school, or your workplace.

You stand in front of your mirror at your cubicle, patting foundation on your pale skin. After teaching the beginner ballet class for your young students, it was only one and a half hours to prepare your anniversary dinner with Yoongi. Inside your heart, you are greatly looking forward to it—especially after Yoongi heed more attention to you and messaged his apologies for the insensitive answers during the call and told you he loved you. He is surely better at typing it than telling it to your face directly, you think giddily and happily continue your makeup routine.

Just remembering his sweet message brings all kinds of butterflies in your stomach. You swore that he’d be the death of you—all these acts are causing you bad that you are not thinking straight. Yoongi is the type to leave you speechless in whatever he does, even the small ones. And this major pessimistic side of you does bring some good in your relationship, you appreciate every little thing he does. You are deeply in love with him, even after all these long five years. They always say love will turn sour if you are not having it with your soulmate, but you find yourself falling in love deeper everyday and there is no doubt in your heart that he must be the one. Your one.

“Hey, lovebird.” You snap your heads up, meeting the playful grin from your fellow ballet teacher named Mina. She greasily winks and you chuckle, shaking your head and looking back into the mirror on the mahony table. “Are you going on a date with Yoongi tonight?”

“Yes. This is our five year anniversary today.” You hum with great pride. Your relationship with Yoongi is probably one thing you can ever be happy and be proud of. Your lackluster life is most definitely not one of them “We are having our anniversary dinner and I wish it would be enjoyable.”

“Of course it would be amazing. And mind blowing as well, you get me?” She wriggles her eyebrows, and you bitterly chagrin, silently crossing your fingers for it is not to be an innuendo. “I hope you have a pleasant night, babe. Don’t tire yourself too much, m’kay? You have classes tomorrow and I do not want to take your shift.”

You roll your eyes, but could not hide the blush shaping on your cheek. But you would be lying to tell that you did not expect that to happen. You even wear your best matching lacy panties and bra—just in case. But above anything, you just wish it would truly be an enjoyable dinner with Yoongi. You never knew your luck when it comes to him that it is even hard to believe that this could actually be happening.

“By the way, see this!”

You head up from gazing far into your table to Mina’s vibrant expression. She points to a purplish bruise engraved on the side of her arm. You first thought it was because she hurt herself for the nth time already, but then you notice how it shapes differently from the usual bruise. You gasps loudly, jumping on your spot in complete delight. “You met your soulmate, Mina?!”

“Yes!” She shouts animatedly, a tear substantially forms on her eyes. You clasp her fingers inside your arm, cannot wait for the continuation of the cute story. “I met him yesterday when I was drinking with my friends. I was drunk—oh God, how can I be that drunk is beyond me—and this man sitting on the bar held my arm to stop me from falling. And then I literally sobered up! I felt it—the electricity of him touching me. Then I just knew it.” She cries again, her lips quivering from the euphoria of the event. You swiftly jump into her welcoming arms, holding her close to you in a blissful happiness.

“I am really, really happy for you, Mina. You can’t even believe it.” You whispered to her, your heart beating fast. You can’t even believe how much Mina deserves to meet her soulmate. It has always been hard for her, all the things that have been going on but she always strengthens herself and endures all the pain altogether. You are eternally thankful that your best friend finally met the one—the one would gladfully and rightfully share her happiness, concerns and problems so she does not have to face everything alone.

“Thank you.” She mutters lightly, giving you a light squeeze before letting you go. “We just know Yoongi is the one, huh babe? The signs will come, I just knew it with you and him.”

You put a grim smile, the one you can let out when Mina brought up a topic that has been bothering your mind a lot. It’s not like you to feel envious of her on anything—you are a keen believer of everyone on their own lane and comparison is toxic to its core—but you somehow feel frustrated. You wish that everything would be easier on you and Yoongi but that is most absolutely not the case. You just have to be patient, you calm yourself, trying to get your scattered thoughts together.

“I hope it will.”

You are seated in your car, your fingers resting on the wheel. The extravagant restaurant in which you will celebrate the anniversary is not that far from your workplace, but somehow you find the streets are two times more packed than usual. Based on the maps, it turns out there was an accident on the road ahead of you. The people on the cars are already evacuated, but the cars are still pulled with docks, hence the congestion. The accident must be new, you think to yourself and while not paying much attention.

Shrugging it completely from your mind, you turn your car to find an alternative way. Your fingers turned into the phone on your grasp, finding that there are no new notifications yet. Yoongi has not replied to your reminder messages for the dinner, and it burdens your mind a lot. It can’t be, right? You know Yoongi’s car like the back of your head and based on the news you read, it was not it. He is probably on the way, you internally reason yourself to calm the intrusive thoughts—which ironically is your specialties.

But then another twenty minutes passed and Yoongi still has not replied. You are still inside your car in the restaurant parking lot, deciding not to step inside and embarrass yourself if anything comes his way and he decided not to come. It would be infuriating and sadly, possible.You groan, everything sucks and you hate your boyfriend now.

You decided to call him again. Exactly four beeps and the voice you waited the most is heard. “H.. hello?”

“Yoongi! Yoongi, where are you?! I am already here at the restaurant and you did not reply my messages and I—“

“Y/N— I am terribly sorry. I am sorry for everything but I can’t come to you right now. I’m sorry.”

And then he shut the call.

And then you throw your phone, tears substantially forming on your eyes.

You are a zombie. 80% of your time you are spacing out, the 10% you are crying and the rest are you trying to suck it all up and do something but still fail miserably. It sucks how much these things—or rather Yoongi, affects you. You do not want to feel this way for him, he was such an ignorant jerk and you are feeling ten times worse than you should be, since he does not explain a single thing to you, even a reason for his absence the night before and did not bother to even clarify for a whole day. You know you deserve better treatment from a boyfriend, but you still cannot help how much you still hope he will do something about his mistakes. What a fool, you absentmindedly think to yourself, the pain is too unbearable to hold yourself.

After completing your whole days in the ballet school, it was already 10PM. You should not stay this late, but your mind bothers you too much and to be left alone would only wallow you into sadness and it’s the last thing you want. You actually thought of calling him to ask about everything—what are you to him exactly, but your pride won’t let you. You should not be that easy for a fact that he broke his promise without any notable reason. He is so selfish, and doesn't give any single shit about you. You should have known better.

Mina nonchalantly asked about the failed anniversary dinner last night, and the moment she questioned, you quickly burst into tears and stuttered words about how Yoongi abandoned the dinner for no exact reason. She held you close, trying to calm you and skillfully brought a smile to your face while lightly mocking your idiotic boyfriend. She even promised to keep you company tonight—after finishing her mother errands you both are going to the nearest bar and get drunk to the point of no return.

You just finish your warm shower, feeling completely refreshed from any kind of physical fatigue. Your ear perks up when hearing a rustling sound from the front door. Your mind turns cautious, as you remembered Mr and Mrs. Bong, the caretaker of the building already said their goodbyes a few hours before. There must be someone at the door.

But you know there should not be anything to be wary about. The neighborhood is the safest area in the city, for God knows it could be Mina, ready to take you into a whole night you’d regret in the morning. The thoughts instantly calm you, as you shuffle to open the door.

“Hey y—mmmph!”

Well, hell be damned because the person standing in front of you, taking you ransom and holding your lips close to his own is your boyfriend. Yoongi hoisted you up to his arms, your legs circling his waist to prevent yourself from falling down. The kisses are ferocious and his lips are cold, but it still sends butterflies to your stomach like you never felt before. But the memories quickly evades your mind that this man just fucking ghosted you on the night of your fifth anniversary, so you use all the strength left inside you to push him away, quickly jumping off him before everything is too late and you are back to forgiving without any further claims on his fault. You are not that easy—and the thought of taking this lightly disturbs your whole being.

“Stop, Yoongi! You don’t deserve to do all this when you just ignored me after promising the whole night of our anniversary together.” You shout directly to his face and try to be as curt as you can force, but your voice is breaking and the tears are already pooled on the corner of your eyes, threatening to fall out. You are crushed inside a tidal wave of emotion, your chest heaving irregularly from the thing that just transpired. The anger quickly turns into sadness and you try to manage your own breath or it will soon hurt you.

“Baby, I’m so sorry…” Yoongi unexpectedly bursts literal tears, and it stops the anger and frustrations bubbling up on your throat. “I know I don’t deserve you. You are the best girlfriend I—no, everyone could ever ask for. I love you so much and I never felt so irresponsible to ignore you like I did last night.”

You are waiting for him to continue, sensing the edge to his sentences. The tears were completely a show stopper for all your excessive emotions.

“Taehyung—he.. he got into a car crash and had to undergo surgeries.”

Yoongi sweeps the tears away with the back sleeve of his hand. “At that time, I was on my way to the restaurant. But—but when I received the news, I was so panicked I immediately went to the hospital. When you called, I was out of my mind, and I knew I did not say what I should have said.” He whispered lowly, eyes locked on the floor like he is a kid under a punishment. You wait for him to continue.

“After arriving at the hospital, his father ordered me to stay while he was undergoing surgery. It was a literal hell, Mr. Kim was super furious at me at his son's accident and asked me to take responsibility until the surgeries were completed. And I was going to let you know, I really was but I literally do not know where or when I lost my phone. I-i should’ve let you know sooner. It was my fault, but you have to know that his father won’t let me do anything and I came s-straight after—“

By his last sentences, Yoongi is already stuttering and trembling. You could sense how much he despises himself, and it hurts you that he has to blame himself for whatever happened. You hold him inside your arms, your arms tightly secure around his waist. Yoongi shuts himself, quickly shambles into louder tears he has been trying to suppress as he reciprocates your calming hug. You understand him—you understand his reasons and you trust him with all your heart.

You’ve heard about Mr. Kim and Taehyung previously from Yoongi, even rarely hear about them recently. Mr. Kim is Yoongi’s adoptive parents. Yoongi’s birth parents died in a plane crash when he was a kid—he was only nine by then. By law, his custody is transferred to his uncle—the evil side of the family that is on a bad term with his parents. He was treated inhumanely. Yoongi won’t go into details but you could feel how much he hated it there, all the abusive and discrimination he had to face at such early age. After suffering a severe punishment for not obeying his uncle's order, he ran away from the house slash hell. On his way to nowhere, he saw a kid, crying and lost in the park. A boy named Kim Taehyung.

Seoul, South Korea

18 years ago.

“Hi, who are you? Why are you crying?” Yoongi walked closer to a little kid—probably a few years younger than him—sniffling with his reddened nose. His little arms were cradling a small brown teddy bear, eyes full of tears but still showing wariness over the stranger—which was Yoongi. The boy took a step back, and Yoongi stopped in his place so the boy would not run away.

“I—I’m not supposed to talk to a stranger, father said..” he whispered in fear and hesitation, but Yoongi shrugged and instead smiled, holding out his hand. “Hi, I am Yoongi, 10 years old. There, we’re no longer strangers. Who are you? And why are you here alone?”

Listening to the witty answer by Yoongi, the boy quickly showed a wide smile, showing a tad cute boxy smile. “I’m Taehyung, 7 years old. I don’t know where my nannies are. We went out, and it’s a secret—but I don’t really like them, so I ran away and now I can’t go back home.” He silently muttered with a deep frown and slumped shoulders and Yoongi held his shoulder, forcing the boy called Taehyung to look back at him.

“Hey, running away from someone who cares for you is not good. You shouldn’t do it. Your parents could be worried sick for you.” Yoongi warned with a friendly gesture. Taehyung folded his hands in front of his chest, his lips jutted in childish anger.

“But they never cared for me. They only care about my father’s order.”

Yoongi smiled knowingly, holding his hand out to Taehyung. “Don’t worry, we will find them and then you can be angry. Okay?” Yoongi knew his words were not comforting even the slightest, but he was glad that Taehyung complied with a smile. He wouldn’t know what to do if Taehyung threw a fit or refused to come with.

“Let’s go find your nannies.” Yoongi pulled Taehyung by the hand, his eyes looking for people that must be trying to find the boy on his grasp right now.

Then across the street, Yoongi noticed several men and women calling the boy’s name—who Taehyung then pointed at as his nanny and guards. After safely confirming that they are indeed the correct ones, he wanted to walk away, but the adults stopped him and asked him to come with them. Yoongi was not sure, but the idea sparked Taehyung’s mind as he ran from his nannies grasp, cried loudly and refused to be separated from Yoongi. “You have to come! I don’t want to go if you are here. Come one, Yoongi hyung!”

Yoongi was going to reject his advances, but one of the aged nannies that looked incredibly pale and tired after running far only to find the boy hiding inside a park pleaded with him to come with. The adults kindly asked him to follow them, so Yoongi obliged. It was rare for him to find how respectful someone could be to a ten years old, so Yoongi felt like it was a good choice to obey. He trusted Taehyung and his nannies and guards.

Arriving in a luxurious car at a monstrous large house, Yoongi concluded that Taehyung’s family was loaded—like crazy loaded. Taehyung was quickly taken to the back by his nannies, while Yoongi was asked to wait for Taehyung’s father who wanted to meet him. Before Taehyung took a bath, he ran to Yoongi's side in a rushed expression. “Hyung, you have to be there when I finish, okay?”

Taehyung’s hopeful gaze resulted in a quiet comforting hum from Yoongi. While waiting, he finds a few facts from Mrs. Yoon—the aged nanny from before—that Taehyung’s mother died when birthing him, and how Taehyung had an issue with making friends. To his courtesy, all the people in his class were idiots and snobby, and he never got along with even one of them. To be honest, Yoongi could understand the younger boy by heart. He himself did not get along with most of his classmates. Other than that, Taehyung also did not like his nannies, always refusing to play or even talk to them. He was severely lonely—to the point of making his own imaginary friends. Yoongi thought it was understandable, but Taehyung was seven years old then. That concerned his father a lot.

The stories from Mrs. Yoon went to a halt when his father arrived, asking him for a private meeting for only the two of them. Seated on a comfortable spinning chair in the wide room filled with bookshelves, the man throwed a few questions about his life. But Yoongi did notice that the old man did a background check on him beforehand. Mr. Kim knew about his family situation, his parents' accident, his uncle's family, where he went to school, etc. That’s exactly when the old man popped a question Yoongi could never guess.

“Do you want to live here? With Taehyung?”

By then, everyone knew that the man expected something from him. There’s no such thing as free living, but then Yoongi really does not know where he should go, how he is going to continue his life. He does not have a roof over his head, and after his extensive research using a computer at school, he would be deported to some child protection agency or worse, back to his uncle's house. Just thinking about it sent him shudders, so he nodded hesitantly as an approval. The father showed a small grin, satisfied with Yoongi’s easy compliance.

It’s in Yoongi’s understanding that he owes everything—even his life to the Kim family. And he is also well aware that in Mr.Kim’s eyes, he was just another, same-aged nanny to his precious son, someone who seven year old Taehyung could actually listen to—even until now. You heard how Yoongi was basically Taehyung’s nanny, so whenever it seemed like Taehyung did not meet his father's expectations or wants, the man would first contact Yoongi for clarity or some good scolding. It worsened when Taehyung grew up, the old man was angry at Yoongi several times when Taehyung failed his exam, escaped from home to attend his friend parties—or basically doing what most teenage boys would do. Yoongi would cover for him, taking the blame instead, but still Yoongi never hated Taehyung. He never could. Taehyung is his dearest, precious brother that he would trade everything for.

Everything actually got better for Yoongi when Taehyung and his father had to move to America after the family company advanced and growed like a wildfire. Taehyung was twenty, Yoongi was twenty three by then and already found his interest to be a music producer. His father took Taehyung to study business in America, along with him—already aligning him for the highway inside the company, in which he would take over after his father positions someday. But Yoongi said to you, with sparkling proud eyes—how talented his brother was at business and how proud he was of him.

After they left, Yoongi was devastated that he had to be seperated from Taehyung, but do realize the positive side no longer held in charge of the younger boy by his father. And in the exact same year, he met a hopeful ballerina offering a music editing job—you. He is not complaining at all.

“He finished his studies and just graduated, so he decided to come back to Seoul to study the company branch here.” Yoongi mutters while you hold him close, your finger draws circular motion on his back. Both of you are now seated still on the sofa of your workplace. “The only reason his father lets him go back to Seoul on his own is he knows Taehyung would then be under my watch.”

You hissed, gritting your teeth at the thought of a freaking twenty five years old man needing to be watched. You can’t even think how Yoongi—or even Taehyung felt about this. Super typical of those rich men to be acting that way, and just listening to the stories make you feel sick. “You can imagine how furious he was when Taehyung had the accident, Y/N. He literally created a video conferencing room in the hospital to even scold me, asking for an update every hour for Taehyung’s surgery.”

“I know and I felt sorry for you.” You mutter as you feel Yoongi’s head leaning on your shoulder. He must be excessively tired by now, you figure so you rest your palm on his supple cheek, caressing them lightly and affectionately. “I’m sorry that I overthink everything. You know—”

Yoongi cuts you with a sudden kiss, his arms sneaking on your sides, unto your back while pushing you to rest on the sofa. His lips are warm and welcoming, and most importantly, feels as familiar as ever. The kiss doesn’t feel rushed, just perfect to send how he wished to just kiss you and forget about everything. It sends rushes in your vein, your heartbeat hastens and your mind blank in nerves. “I don’t say this much, but I am truly, truly in love with you, Y/N. Happy fifth anniversary, baby.”

The tears lounging on the corner of your eyes are out, streaming on the side of your cheek, but Yoongi swept them away with a kiss, peppering them all over your face. You chuckle, pushing him away jokingly but then he held your hand to your side, leaning his forehead on yours with a deep stare. “Say it back, Y/N. You need to say it back.”

You wanted your usual witty answer for his pleading, but you find yourself lost in his eyes and seriousness in his words, then it’s done. You are irrevocably sold for him. “I will always love you, silly. You know it. Happy fifth anniversary...”

You are about to smother him with kisses again, when a cough was heard from the door. A sly looking Mina stands by her spot, grinning to both you and your boyfriend’s position which is not very compromising to the unknowing eyes. Yoongi quickly shifts himself to a sitting position, face and ears turning red from being caught by his girlfriend’s best friend. You shot Mina a dirty look of annoyance for her unwanted interruption, folding your hand on your chest.

“Sorry to interrupt love birds, but Y/N! I figured our night out is cancelled, right?” Mina wiggles her eyebrows and Yoongi reverts his questioning gaze to you. You turn red from thinking about the silly reason for your supposed night out with Mina, in which you are damned if Yoongi ever gets his hand on it. “Should have known you’d ditch me the second Yoongi is here. But seriously guys, I don’t care if you fucking, but you need to close the door. And please don’t ever do it on our sofa. It’s fucking disgusting.”

“Mina, get out!” You hiss in embarrassment, and Mina quickly holds her hand in surrender, sends her goodbye and escapes from the place—or your incoming wrath. After hearing a soft thud signaling Mina’s exit, Yoongi then pulls you close to his arms, his lips attached on your temple in butterfly kisses.

“I’ll kill her tomorrow, I swear to God—“

Yoongi’s chuckle vibrates on your skin. “Hey, it was actually good that Mina was here. Or else I would ravish you right on this sofa and you would never see your workplace the same again.” Yoongi’s kisses travel south to your neck in a teasing manner. “Like I do with my studio.” Yoongi slyly whispers and your breath hitched, a wince of realization shown on your head. You fucked a lot, like a lot in Yoongi’s studio, and it is not a secret that Yoongi would pop a sudden boner just thinking about the dirty things you both did on nights staying in the studio. That’s why you and him create forbids-sex-on-workplace as a policy, but the truth to be told, it is not complied well.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence and enjoying each other’s presence, Yoongi lets you go. You frowned, not wanting to be separated from his addictive warmth. “You can go home now, Y/N. It’s getting late. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Where are you going? You can stay on mine for tonight.” Your frown deepens, not liking the idea of sleeping alone for tonight. Your roommate is staying out of the city, and you just reconciled with Yoongi. You do not want to be left alone, you just want to be with him.

“I have to go back to the hospital. Mr. Kim has already been blowing up this replacement phone he gave me.” He tiredly chuckles, checking the vibrating phone from his pocket. You glance at the name appearing on his phone screen and sigh, not liking how Yoongi would have to deal with that old hag again for the night. “I swear I’ll see you tomorrow, I promise.” You grimly nod, Yoongi’s slender finger holding either side of your face, pushing forward to kiss your temple once again.

“Or you can visit Taehyung, too! It would be great to finally meet the man that I am babysitting, right?” He let out satire jokes, and you chuckle and shake your head in amusement. He envelops you close inside his arms, and you could feel how tired Yoongi is and how bad he wishes to never let you go. It warms your heart that you could always feel his love not only by his words. For Yoongi, his loving gesture definitely speaks louder than any words he says.

“I’m serious, Y/N. I want you to finally meet him.” He whispered with seriousness to your ear, even with the lips attached to the side of your neck, nibbling in a playful manner.

“I want the most important woman in my life to meet the most important man in my life. It would be a dream of mine.”

You hum an agreement. “Hoseok will be sad to hear that.” You tease him, once again pressing a deep kiss on his supple, delicious lips. Both of you let go with a deep sigh of contentment. “Okay, baby. I’ll see you tomorrow in the hospital.”

Oh, how naive you are, just nonchalant to how vicious the universe would play on you for agreeing to the love of your life’s most sincere wish.

You stood in front of the extravagant private hospital in which Yoongi mentions Taehyung is in, with a bucket of blue lilies on your grasp. The morning went well—weirdly. It seems like everything aligns better than they have ever been. The usual congested road is clear, the weather is extraordinair and you wake up exactly before your alarm that really sets your mood right. You have no scheduled class to teach today, only a scheduled 3PM brainstorming session with Mina for the upcoming recital for your students. You are going to spend a few hours there to finally meet the man you heard so much about. Something unknowingly flutters inside your heart, and you don’t have a clear idea of why. You just conclude it as an excitement to finally meet a dearest friend of Yoongi.

You called Yoongi, mentioning your arrival and he asked you to come to the reception and mention your relation with him. You do so, but still have to fill out a form of visit, exchange your identity card and another strict protocol process to ensure you are not a threat and perfectly healthy. Yoongi mentioned the exhausting entree process, but you never knew it would be like this. It’s not like Taehyung was sick to the point of needing to be quarantined or anything—but as you remember how annoyingly protective his father is of him, you could only be forced to understand.

“That’s a beautiful flower.” The nurse suddenly mentions with a slight smile while you are filling up the tedious forms.“I know Taehyung would like it. He never received flowers before.”

Suddenly, you don’t know exactly why a sickening feeling trickles inside your chest. The words thrown by the nurse are sad—you are acquainted with it but the nauseous feeling was like a knee-jerk reaction from you. You gulp, trying to hold yourself from any further falling into the unexpected feeling inside your body.

After completing all the forms and receiving back your ID, the nurse asks you to come with a wide smile.“You can follow me.”

As Yoongi said, Taehyung’s room is on the high level, special for executive patients. The time wasted inside the lift was longer than you expected, so your gaze stills on the beautiful flower on your grasp. It was rare to even find such a blooming flower at this time of the year, but when in the flower shop, amongst all the beautiful flowers, something tells you that this is the one and you follow it.

“We’ve arrived, miss.” The nurse takes you away from your drifting thoughts, and you smile and nod and follow her behind. The hallways are quiet and desolate, the smell of hospitals strong on your senses. Somehow, your minds are rushed, cold sweat trickling on the side of your face. You don’t exactly know why your body is reacting this way—it was a first for you to ever feel such a strange sentiment.

When the nurse opens the door, your eyes firstly find his own. He is looking deep into you, eyes widened like somehow, he expected your presence.

And your head literally spins.

“You’re here. This is Taehyung. Taehyung, this is Y/N, my girlfriend.”

Yoongi is seated inside, noticing his girlfriend turns rigid. He can sense the air thickens inside the room, and nobody really responds to his introduction. He doesn't even know how the situation could result—meeting new people for both Taehyung and you is just as easy as a walk in the park. Mulling on his concern, he walks to your side, giving you a hastened kiss on your cheeks while your eyes are still trained on the boy laying on his back above the bed. “You okay?” He asks, voice laced with concern. You quickly shake your head, noticing how weird you have become since you arrived. You send him an assuring smile, trying to ignore your hasten breath. It was not your first time seeing his face—you saw it from a few photos Yoongi had on his phone, but the last photo was from five years ago and the man indeed matured a lot since then.

“You look pale, babe.” Yoongi frowns, his hands on the side of your neck, sensing how cold you are on his skin. You shake your head, muttering incoherent agreement to tell Yoongi that he has nothing to worry about. “I’ll get you something warm, okay? Stay here.”

And then silence ensues after a light thud from the door. You are looking back at him, blue lilies bouquet still closed in your grasp. He smirks, noticing how silent you have been at his presence.

“You do know that lilies are for funerals, right?”

The first words Taehyung said to you are to tease you for a flower you somehow mistakenly bought. You wince, hiding the flowers behind your back in sudden shyness. Just to be with him alone in such a short proximity results all kinds of nerves bubbling inside your chest. It feels funny, strange, but simultaneously warm. You can pinpoint any reason for that. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t really know…”

“No—I’m kidding. Come here.” Taehyung gestures to you to come closer, his hands offered at you. You foolishly point at yourself, asking whether he is actually asking for you. Noticing your bafflement, Taehyung chuckles lightly, and you swear something triggers your head for a thought to cross your mind about how his laugh is probably the sweetest laugh you have ever heard in your adolescent life. Wait—what the fuck were you thinking?

“No, the flowers I mean.” He smiles warmly, but continues with a cunning grin. “But won’t complain if you give me a hug.”

You roll your eyes at him, walking closer to hand him the beautiful blue lilies you have been holding since forever. Taehyung does not take it that immediate second, instead when you are ready to take your hand back to your side along with the bouquet, he suddenly grasps your wrist with his large palm, and then you feel it. You feel the electricity like you are burned, rushing from the lingering spot he touched you and spread all the way to all your senses. You also felt a slight burn on your wrist, in which you can see a purple bruise forming against your pale skin. You gasp, astonished at what just unfolds in front of you.

“You… you…” You mutter, as your lips are too frozen to continue. Your tongue is caught, your heart beat irregularly quickens as you look up at him, large eyes filled with fear, longing and endearment. He felt it as well—the electricity as he looked down, a matching mark was printed on his wrist. There is no way in hell that this is happening.

Taehyung looks at you, a strained, hard gaze filling his eyes. “I’m your soulmate.”

“N—no! No, you must be joking. I—we can’t be soulmates!” You hysterically yell, your brain is in haze at the things that just happened. You dreamt about this, you pray for this moment to finally happen, but it’s not him. You want it to be your Yoongi, the man you love for five years. Not his brother. Not his best friend. You felt terrible, your chest is hurting due to your heart not beating like it should have been for the few minutes you are inside the room.

“You are in pain... I can feel it in my chest..” He painstakingly whispered more to himself, his palm clenching on his chest. You stare at him in anguish, waiting for him to continue.

“I have been dreaming about a girl with blue lilies for months. It kept me awake at dawn, and I realized I had been crying in my sleep. It continued for awhile, and believe me, I went to the best doctors to fix these dreams and sleeping habits. I thought it was nothing but then they told me it must be my soulmate, a bond created by heavens. My soulmate is looking for me—” He takes a deep breath, and his beautiful large eyes find yours. Exactly when you feel a striking pain in your chest, as if your body can feel what he is experiencing right now.

“You are looking for me.”

The emotion pumping in your chest is too much to bear, so you run out without even waiting for Yoongi, with Taehyung’s voices still calling your name until it is only silence. You went outside, praying that you will not meet Yoongi on the way down. Everything makes zero sense, and you can’t even imagine what would happen if you saw your boyfriend's face now. You cannot lie that a future scenario that might ensue did cross your mind, that you finally belong to your soulmate, the universe-chosen one that you will spend eternity with. But above anything, you despise how your body reacted to it. That you somehow feel it’s the way everything is supposed to be. That you somehow have to be with him to achieve that infamous happiness the people are talking about.

Shaking your head, you quickly scramble to your car after arriving in the lobby. You desperately need sometimes to sort everything, your mind, your feelings and what you should do next. You are this close to a breakdown, and you can’t have those men anywhere near you for now.

It has been two days since you ran away from Yoongi and Taehyung, and you do realize Yoongi has already been blowing up your phone since the time you left Taehyung’s hospital. You are well aware that it’s childish and foolish for you to avoid confrontation, but your mind and heart does not want to deal with anything concerning those two boys. So you decided to take a break from work and go back to your parents house that night, after telling Yoongi something came up with your family. He immediately acknowledges your reason—he figured something must be serious since it’s really not you to go back to the place that disliked your decision for a career, even if it seems like your father already accepted your decision—or you hope so—so Yoongi wished you a good stay in your parents place. After a few seconds of comfortable silence, he breathily whispered to the call.

“I love you, Y/N. Take care, okay? Tell me if anything happens, you know I’m here for you.”

And you foolishly answered the rare yet bitter sweet confession by your boyfriend of five year with a short hum before directly closing the call. It pained you greatly how much you know Yoongi loves you and you are about to lie or lose him forever, and heaven knows it’s the last thing you want to do. Mulling on every kind of possibility of a happy ending, you found none and spent all night crying on your pillow.

It’s nine in the morning, and you are seated on your old bed after running a few miles as your daily exercise—and to relax your mind from thinking too much about Yoongi and Taehyung. It’s your last day to run away from your real life, your job is already a havoc from you suddenly leaving. But you really needed this break, feeling somehow on the edge about everything.

While your mind wanders, suddenly your eyes fall to the bruise on your wrist—which color already turns vibrant blue, the exact color of the blue lilies you gave Taehyung the first time you met him. You feel your mood drops all of a sudden, and you can lightly guess what it is all about. Your soulmate on the other side is having an awful time. It’s not always that you feel what Taehyung is having, you always grade it as your body having its own mind, but you do perceive how powerful it has become now that you met him.

You immediately feel guilty, as you are well aware that Taehyung has been on his own emotionally—beside having Yoongi for a long time. So to finally meet a soulmate that already closed the door on the first meeting, you can’t imagine how upsetting it must be for him.

“Hey…”

You looked up to your mother, bringing a few sliced fruits, leaning on your door. You put up a restrained smile, making a bit of room for her to sit on your bed.

“Are you okay, honey? You haven’t been out since yesterday. I thought you came back to see a few old friends back here.” Your mother smiles, handing you the delicious looking plate. It’s peach, one of your favorite fruits. Usually you would directly jump in, but your stomach churn in displeasure, thinking that Taehyung must have not had food inside his stomach for a while now. You sigh, resting the plate on the nearest bedside. Oh, what an idiot he is.

Your mom sighs, looking at the fruit you haven’t even touched. But you abruptly push your wrist to her, and your mother gasps looking at the distinctive bruise.

“Oh my—honey, are you finally signed for Yoongi?!”

You wince, the pain strikes you hard, the tears falling on your cheek as you shook your head. You should have known. Everyone would always think it’s Yoongi—hell, even you yourself think your soulmate is Yoongi. It is ridiculous how these five years could go so breathtakingly well with two people who are not a paired soulmate. But somehow, against every stigma, you are. You are in an amazing, loving relationship with Yoongi where you would trade anything for his happiness. And now you are destined by the cruel universe to have an eternal soulmate bond with Taehyung, his dearest brother. This whole thing is so fucked up.

“No mom… it’s someone else…”

Then you cry. You cry, as your mom envelopes you on a tight hug, her palm caressing your back in a soothing manner. You spend some times that felt like an eternity in her arms, and you cannot be more thankful for her presence. You

“Soulmate or not, you are still my beautiful, strong daughter. You don’t need anyone to make you happy for you. You can go through this, honey.” Your mom kissed your forehead, her two palms on either side of your cheek then she looks into your reddish eyes, determination fills her beautiful brown orbs that is greatly reflected in yours. You nod with a thankful smile, then she pats your thigh and walks out, leaving you on your own.

Suddenly, your phone rang, disrupting the silence inside your room. You check the display, finding unknown numbers plastered on it. Thinking it might be your students, you swipe to answer the call, instead a baritone voice welcomes you on the other side.

“Hey, don’t you hurt yourself. I’m literally sick and do not need any additional pain from my soulmate for this stupid bond we have.”

Your heart literally skips a beat, definitely did not expect it would be Taehyung calling you. A warm fuzzy feeling embraces you, your head getting its own high as you felt the effect of two soulmates reaching for each other. It’s unfair how much an effect he is to you, even if deep down you are consuming the wondrous feeling of finally hearing his voice. It’s like your body has been craving contact with your soulmate. Like you have been waiting for him since forever.

“Hey…” You whispered, your throat strained for not speaking for a while. “Sorry. I’m just super distracted and I know I am really—”

“It’s okay.” He cuts you with a soft whisper—like he knows how much you want to avoid talking about the subject with your own mouth—and then your stomach embraced the butterfly inside by just hearing his sultry voice. “I understand how hard it must be for you. I felt it too. I love Yoongi hyung with all my heart, and I am racking my brains here on how to do… this.”

You notice how painful it is for him to say those words, signed by a contracting pain in your chest. You can’t figure whether it’s you or him, though. You keep your mouth shut. “Thank you. And I am sorry for everything. For running away. For these pains I cause you.” You whisper, your heart turns light at Taehyung’s understanding of your current situation. Well, it is your fault to somehow overthink everything, that Taehyung is somehow forcing all this soulmate thing to you. Even after the universe decides that you are his soulmate, your heart still belongs to Yoongi. Just thinking about what would happen to Yoongi after knowing about this results in a heavy urge for you to puke.

“Hey, I don’t think—“

“Yes, I know what you are thinking about and I agree. Yoongi hyung will know when the time is right.” Short, stuffy silence before he continues. “I believe it’s better for you to do it, though.”

You nod, your upper teeth crashing to your under lips in hesitation. “I.. I just never hide anything from him. Especially this big. It’s ridiculous to even hide anything in a five year old relationship.” You chuckle, trying to light up with a joke, but find no response from the other side of the call. Your lips tighten, feeling slight nausea in your body.

“You really love him, don’t you?”

That one question caught you by surprise. Of course you love Yoongi, that is such a ridiculous question for you to hear. Your answer should be a knee-jerk reaction, but something holds you back, and it seems like your body does not comply with what your heart is telling you to do. But finally after a few long seconds full of dense silence, you let out a hum, signaling an answer to him.

“Yes.”

Silence which feels like an eternity.

“He is one lucky guy.”

All of a sudden, your heart is clenched hard, until the pain seeps into your brain in a warning manner. A groan escapes your lips, but your teeth quickly stab your lips hard, trying to prevent any sound from coming out and hoping it could release the incredulous pain knocking your insides. Even if it hurts to the point like it is a struggle to even breathe, you manage to let out another hum to reciprocate his words.

After another long silence ensues, you raise your voice in a jokingly annoyed manner. “Hey, eat your food. I am seriously in pain because you haven’t eaten.” You angrily huff, and then hear a dry chuckle from Taehyung on the other side. You can’t bear a smile blooming on your lips hearing the wonderful sound of his laughter, and you don’t even know why your body is reacting this way and it flusters you.

“I will.”

“Okay.” You nod with a light hum, even if he can’t see it. You can imagine him biting his thin lips, agonizing what he probably is mulling in his mind right now. And you can’t bear to swoon just imagining the wonderful sight.

“So… I’ll see you soon?” He asked, full of hesitation and fear. Silence again...

“Yup. See you soon.” You reply, full of hesitation and fear. You swiftly end the call, burying your face on the bed, tears of anger and fear substantially raining out until there are no tears left to cry.

Yoongi, tell me what to do.. Cause I really don’t want to hurt you, yet it seems like I have to..

==============

a.n = first chapter is up! woooohoooo i hope u guys like it! tell me what you think or if you want to be tagged in the next chapter, do let me know in comment / ask box. :)

#soulmate #bts #taehyung #yoongi #angst #fluff #bts taehyung #bts yoongi #taehyung x reader #yoongi x reader #bts boyfriends #bts fluff #bts fanfic #taegi #taehyung fluff #bts angst #soulmate bts

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theartfuldodger26 · 5 years ago

Note

Bellamort for the ship meme

Thank you @knightessofwalpurgis for the ask and apologies for taking me a month to answer - March has been... quite the experience. But Bellamort exists to give us comfort, so let’s get crackin’!

who is more likely to hurt the other?

Voldemort can tear anyone apart with some well-chosen words (as we see Locket!Voldemort do to Ron), but he rarely uses those on Bella, because a. she rarely deserves to be humiliated like that, and b. he just wouldn’t do that to her.

What’s more likely, is that he hurts her inadvertently, since he may fail to understand certain emotional needs that Bella most people have - a touch, a kind word after success, casual conversation over a cup of tea. In addition to that, Bella, who is obsessed with him and the position she holds in his eyes, tends to overreact to those “omissions”, getting convinced he ‘never truly valued her’ and he’s going to ‘kick her out any day now’.

However, let us take a moment to note the day that Bella deeply hurt Voldemort: the night of her betrothal to Rodolphus, when Voldemort proposed marriage and Bella turned him down for reasons that, in retrospect, she finds ridiculous.

So in a way, you could say that of the two, Voldemort is the brokenhearted one, even if it’s Bella who cries herself to sleep from time to time.

who is emotionally stronger?

They’re both incredibly strong people.

Voldemort pulled himself out of the gutter, basically raised himself and became one of the most powerful and learned wizards ever.

Bella survived fucking Azkaban, which is code for severe depression in HP-land, so all I can do is salute her and ask for her secrets.

The answer is a little tricky, in the sense that Voldemort appears to be a psychopath, medically speaking, who are... resilient people emotionally, if you will. This means that an event that would have had a massive effect on a neurotypical person, say witnessing a murder or war, to him it’s very blunted or even irrelevant. This description is very vague and generalising, but it’s supported by a lot of evidence. In fact, psychopaths can’t really feel fear, because their amygdala is the size of a pea, so it’s not fair comparing his emotional strength to others. In fact, I’d add that since he’s not used to “negative emotions” like sadness and fear, if they happen, they’d be more devastating to him, because he’s never learnt to cope with them, like the rest of us do.

Bella obviously has her own emotional/psychiatric problems, but I don’t feel comfortable making guesses, since I’m not a psychiatrist and she’s no textbook description of any personality disorder I’ve heard. However, she got an interestng upbringing, that trained her to be a person of importance. So I’d say that even after Azkaban and with whatever issues she has, she can still hold her own in a very difficult emotional situation.

I realise I haven’t answered the question, because honestly Idk. Also, take with a grain of salt anything psychiatry-related I said, I’m no expert, merely done some research, which I’m regurgitating here.

who is physically stronger?

Naturally, Bella. She trains a lot, does ballet (which is fucking hardcore, let me tell you), enjoys physical activities and martial arts.

However, after Voldemort’s transformation, he’s got many of his physical attributes improved, like the cat-eyes that allow him to see in the dark and so on (been reading a lot of the Witcher series as of recent so there’s that too), so he’s deceptively strong and yes, eventually stronger than her.who is more likely to break a bone?

Bella, 100% XD She’s in battle all the time, and when taking part in Voldemort’s magical research (which is their day-job, world domination is a weekend hobby in case you haven’t noticed) her motto is ‘safety third’.

An interesting point tho. Psychopaths have no fear and low-impulse control if they don’t train themselves. Fear is useful, informs us of danger ahead, so I HC that young Tom/Voldemort broke almost every bone in his body at some point doing something really dangerous simply because he didnt realise it’s stupid - like, say, go down a fucking cliff with waves crushing at it. Now he’s learnt to control those impulses and polices himself when it comes to danger, so no more broken bones. who knows best what to say to upset the other?

They’re both excellent at judging characters and have tongues that sting. Bella will rarely truly dare upset Voldemort, but she does love torturing him a little with something silly and not-truly important, like refusing sex, or messing with his OCD by taking stuff from “their proper place”. She knows that there’s only few things that tick him off: his loss of power to an infant, death and the abandonment from his mother. And she’s not that sadistic to bring up that last one unless absolutely provoked.

Voldemort can be a tease as well, but he’s too mature and dignified for such childish behaviour most of the time. who is most likely to apologise first after an argument?

Bella apologises compulsively out of fear she’s lost him even for things that aren’t her fault, tho in her mind they might be. However, she’s stubborn too, so if it’s a petty argument she might not apologise at all. Shes a spoilt little rich girl after all ;)

Voldemort’s never apologised in his life and never shall say the words, but he will change his behaviour if he realises he’s been wrong, because it’s the rational thing to do- also Bella is supersexy when she’s angry, so he wants to fuck her and he needs to her to be accepting to that. who treats who’s wounds more often?

Voldemort treats Bella’s wounds more often by default, since she’s the one out in the battlefield more often, and also can be clumsy and absentminded. And very rarely *trigger alert* she might self-harm.

Voldemort not only gets hurt rarely, but he also views it demeaning to accept help, so he won’t even mention it if he’s hurt. Bella will find out by accident or because he’s in so much pain he can’t hide it anymore, and with scold him first, he’ll storm off, she’ll hunt him down, they’ll argue and finally she’ll heal his wounds (usually his back which hurts because he’s Tall^TM) and he’ll act like a literal cat during this, touch-starved as he is. who is in constant need of comfort?

Right after Azkaban Bella is in need of a lot of care and comfort, understandably. Her physical and emotional problems are their reality for many months after her escape, but the physical ones mend themselves relatively quickly. She’s forever changed emotionally, again understandably, but I wouldn’t say she’s in *constant* need of comfort. In an AU where they win, she’s perfectly functional as his right hand woman and partner, with only the occasional problem.

Voldemort needs to get through his tough, bald head that he deserves love and comfort like everyone else, but he’ll never get it, so, in the whole, it’s him I’d say. who gets more jealous?

Interesting question, because fandom’s given so many answers relating to those characters, especially since Bella is married. Starting with this piece of solid information, I’d hazard a guess that Voldemort doesn’t care that much that Bella also sleeps with her husband from time to time - maybe it even turns him on and strokes his ego that she doesnt get all she needs from her legitimate, pureblooded husband. How he’d react if she slept with a random bloke... probably badly; tho I cant think of a situation where that’d happen. My Bella at least, doesnt sleep around. She might tease with her sex, but she’s a well-bred lady after all, who does what is expected of her.

Voldemort, I HC, used to be a bit of a whoremonger in his youth; good looks, mummy issues and no emotional attachment are the ingredients for that particular potion. Also he might have also been overcompensating for the fact that he was unable to marry the only women he found worthy of him: his pureblooded classmates. So he’d show up with a different, gorgeous girl at parties, which drove child!Bella crazy with jealousy, since she was still out of the healthy sexual attraction part for him and never thought he’d notice her. She’d stalk him behind curtains and through keyholes, keep her ears on alert for when the adults talked about him etc. Poor thing was really tortured by it. But now that they’re adults and, well, in a relationship, she’s far too confident to think he’d seriously care for another woman; after all, half the time she’s not sure he truly cares about her, and she’s the person who’s been closest to him.

One thing I forgot to mention about Voldemort’s jealousy, or lack thereof, is that Bella has certain emotional needs that he cannot serve, and I’m not talking about tenderness, because to some degree he can give her that, and it’s not the same with her husband anyway. No, I mean that Bella is a sexual sadist, who gets direct sexual pleasure by hurting people. Voldemort on the other hand, is not a masochist. Not that when they have rough sex/BDSM sex he’s never in a sub position, but he’d never just sit there to be whipped or something, it just doesn’t turn him on, and that’s totally fine. So they may invite a girl (and very rarely a boy) to join them, so that Bella can get it out of her system if the war is slow/over. Don’t ask where these people end up, just don’t hang your coat in the second floor closet is all I’m saying. who’s most likely to walk out on the other?

Depends on the situation?

Bella would NEVER abandon Voldemort in battle or for the Cause. In a Muggle setting though, if he pissed her off she’d totally walk out of the restaurant :P

Voldemort would never walk out on Bella either, tho, would he? He’s devoted to her, plus he does feel like he owes her after Azkaban.

The only concept I can imagine relevant to this is Voldemort saying something in his anger that he doesnt exactly mean tho it holds some truth in it, that hurts Bella so deeply, that she leaves, both out of spite but also because she thinks it’s the best for him. In fact, I have a very specific HC for this which takes place in the afterlife, after they;re both killed in the battle for Hogwarts, but there’s no time for that here.

There’s also another thing, but it’d quite controversial. If you, like me, HC that Bella started training with Voldemort since she was a child, and entered a sexual and later romantic relationship with him while still underage, this means that she literally hasn’t been alone as an individual, ever. So there’s also the chance that she, after they’ve had a huge fight and he’s terrible with her, leaves so she can find who she is without him. *cue the tears*who will propose?

Voldemort did propose, on the night of Bella’s formal betrothal. Very rude and uncourteous of him, yes, but it had to be the last minute for him to realise his feelings, because he only has one (1) brain cell that works part-time on the Emotions Department of his brain. She turned him down, because she was young, immature, didnt realise how deep her own feelings were (she believed what her mother told her, that ‘all girls fall for Riddle, it’s an infatuation, it will pass’), wanted the power, fame, money and public adoration that her position as the Black Heir brought, not to mention that she was loyal to her family and terrified since Andromeda had just eloped with Ted. So she broke his heart then, even if neither realised it. But they did continue with their affair, because that’s how it happened in the olden days if you had money and space.

After the war is over, neither proposes. They talk about it as a given (Rodolphus has fucked off to study penguins in Antarctica) and only need to figure out the details: how public it will be, who’s invited, what titles the ceremony gives them and so on. who has the most difficult parents?

Spoiler alert: Voldemort’s an orphan!

Okay, so hypothetically speaking, had any of his parents survived and raised him one way or the other, they’d for sure be a handful. Tom Sr. is a posh bloke used to getting his own way and being considered special due to his status as a squire, so he’d be fucking pissed if he were introduced to a world where he’s not all the shit. Nonetheless, I’d hazard a guess that in the end he, Bella and her parents would get along well-enough; after all they’re the same sort of people.

Merope, on the other hand, is a whole other story. In the most sensible AU, where she survives giving birth and raises her son but they’re still poor and she’s got trouble with magic due to the trauma of Tom Sr. leaving her, I think she wouldn’t like Bella at all actually. Because Bella is all she ever wanted to be: beautiful, wealthy, well-bred and shows it, and, most importantly, emotionally strong. So she pesters Tom all the time about how Bella is not ‘feminine enough’ in her behaviour, too outspoken, too bitchy, not for ‘her boy’. Tom/Voldemort gives exactly one shit about her opinion and moves on.

In the canon universe, it’d be naive to say that Bella’s parents were into Tom, simply due to his blood status. In the longrun, however, I think they'd come to terms with it, and they remember how brilliant and ambitious he was in school, so when he becomes successful in life, whether in-universe as Voldemort, or Minister or whatever in an AU, they’re sort of okay with it. Idk if they hand over the Heir of Blacks title to Bella tho, their kids wouldn’t be pureblooded after all. who initiates hand-holding when they’re out in public?

No one. Not allowed. Not happening. Ever. It’s not their thing, anyway. Voldemort will offer her his arm, like a gentleman, tho. :)

who hogs the blankets?

Bella, especially after Azkaban. She sleeps with five blankets piled on top of her, has the fireplace going all year round and puts a warmth charm on the sheets. Voldemort doesn’t care. He experienced such cold temperatures in so little clothing as a child, that hot and cold make little impression on him; he even takes cold showers because it’s all the same to him. *sobs* who gets more sad?

Bella. She overthinks everything. Did she disappoint him today? Yesterday? Tomorrow? Will she ever be the person she was before prison? Why does Cissy wince every time she sees her? Should she have had children after all? These and all sorts of thoughts race through her mind all the time, torturing her to no end.

Interestingly enough, psychopaths in general dont get that sad, but Voldemort can be very... pensive. who is better at cheering the other up?

Bella has a wicked sense of humor that only Voldemort seems to find hilarious (comments from other people include ‘disturbing’, ‘scary’ and ‘morbid’), and even though he’s rarely sad, he can be very very serious and in need to relax his body and mind.

Still, Voldemort, the eternal student of human nature that he is, if he does notice that Bella is sad (which isn’t always because he’s... you know), knows exactly how to distract her, just like he can do with any other person. Just, in her case, it’s sincere. who’s the one that playfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes?

No one ever hits anyone. Voldemort’s been beaten and whipped and flogged enough as a young boy that he wouldn’t do it to the only person he cares about in a non-sexy way, and Bella’s been raised to view such things as ‘Muggle animalistic violence’. She might bite him hard for fun, tho :Dwho is more streetwise?

This may come as a surprise to you because of my username, but Voldemort grew up on the streets in a Dickensian world. He knows all the tricks in the book; in fact he created many of them. Bella begged him to take her along in his travels incognito, and not on these formal things she attends with her family, and he did, so she’s learnt a lot, but she’s very much a pampered princess. who is more wise?

Hmmm... Hard to say. They have their areas of wisdom and their areas of not-having-a-fucking-clue. Bella, for example, understands emotions better than Voldemort, because she actually experiences them. Jk, jk, but you get what I mean. She’s also more knowledgeable in certain magical things, that, for example, not all prophecies have to be fulfilled and that there’s so much magic that it’s pointless to wish to acquire *everything*; had Voldemort listened to her more often, the books would have been very different.

Voldemort of course is much older and has more diverse life-experience. He’s also less impulsive in his older years than Bella; he can be the voice of rationality and reason if he’s not superobsessed with something; at which point Bella should remind him to take his meds, because they really do help with fixations. who’s the shyest?

Neither, in the strict sense of the meaning. They both know what they want and they’re not afraid to demand it. In the end, it’s Voldemort who’ll never say what he truly needs and feels, though, speaking about their everyday life together, it’d be Bella who’d rather have more affection from him but is too shy to ask. But yeah, Voldemort, not because he’s shy per se, but rather in deep hurt and denial. who boasts about the other more?

In the books it’s obvious that it’s Bella. However, Voldemort does this hilarious thing where he praises Bella in random conversation with other people without even noticing; like, he brings her up every ten seconds even if she’s barely relevant to the subject, so *shrugs* have your pick. who sits on who’s lap?

Nobody, because they’re both tall. Bella will straddle him even in a non sexual manner from time to time, and they often spend their evenings relaxing on the same sofa: Bella will put her legs on Voldemort’s lap and he strokes them absentmindedly (after all they’re superlong and soft and hot), and Voldemort, who refuses to nap in bed, might catch a nap with his head on her lap. The reason Bella doesn’t nap with her head on his lap is because he’s very thin and his femurs hurt her skull, when she’s got plenty of skirts and petticoats cushioning Voldemort. Finally, Bella often sleeps with her head on his chest, because his heart-beat, even tho abnormally slow, relaxes her panic attacks, after Azkaban that is. He will then stroke her hair compulsively - it’s a bit of a fixation of his.

Well,what a ride! Thanks again @knightessofwalpurgis for the ask, this was tremendous fun to write, especially after a very difficult month! And it did help put some of my thoughts on those evil babies in a row. Hope you found it entertaining! I get that those types of asks are usually made for monolectic answers, but yeah, explanations are better. If you made it to the end, dear reader, thank you very much for your time!

#bellamort #bellamort ask #knightessofwalpurgis #relationship meme #bellatrix lestrange #voldemort #lord voldemort #tom riddle #still can't write #but apparently i can do asks #so thats what we're doing today

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the-mystical-aquatic-gay · 5 years ago

Text

At some point before whenever I end up posting this thing, I posted a redesign of Queen Bee for an ML Rewrite my friend @flags-and-fanfiction at I have been working on.

In that post I mentioned our version of Black Cat!Felix who we’ve named Night Prince; this post is about his design and probably some facts about our version of Felix in general. So lets jump right into his design!

Okay so there’s his design! Sorry if the picture is just kinda stuck off to one side or something, I’m not sure why it’s doing that. Might even just be a weird thing on my side of things only? Whatever, anyways if you want more information I’ve got all kinds of fun things under the cut for you!

Just like with our lovely Queen’s redesign, I’m gonna start off with things that are actually a part of the costume and then go into other things afterwards. I think I’ll start from the top this time and then work down:

Okay so first we’ve got his black vest/over shirt thing (I’m sure there’s a proper word for it so if anyone wants to tell me feel free). Anyways, as you probably figured out already from his name being Night Prince, Felix’s costume is largely inspired by classic princely attire.

I wasn’t sure when I originally finished what you see up there, but I think now we’re probably gonna leave it pretty basic? Cause even in canon Felix isn’t really the type of character to go for some fancy, over the top, attention grabbing outfit when its completely his choice what to wear.

For the undershirt, the sleeves aren’t that big because I was trying to make him buff or anything, I just wanted puffy sleeves on his outfit

Also that bit at the top of his undershirt around his neck is supposed to be a collar; like on his regular civilian outfit, but I wanted it to have the top button undone. Just as a little nod to him being more open and free when he’s Night Prince

He has black gloves, and this is also where the only golden accent on the costume is. Because lets be real, Felix wouldn’t wan that bell on his costume. And I know that’s its not some sort of requirement of for the wielders’ costumes, because I checked the wiki page for the Ancient Chinese Black Cat Miraculous Holder (Hēi Māo) and he’s got no bell. But I still liked the little bit of gold on the costume, so that’s why hes got the golden knuckles. Also they’re good for punching if needed, and these would probably be on the knuckles you can see too; or at least the second set of knuckles

At his hips he has these dark green rope things? Again I don’t know names for things but I’m pretty I’ve seen stuff like that on prince outfits before, so its here

Next up we see some dark grey leggings. Obviously because magic jewelry, its not gonna like rip or anything regardless, but its still not quite like normal legging material, its a bit more... heavy duty I think would be the right word? Like its still fabric, but its not that super thin stuff you’d see in tights or a leotard or anything. I forgot to say it before but that goes for all of the costume, it’s all thicker than you’d probably first guess even without the miraculous magic boost

Finally, we have the shoes. On a guess most, if not all of you recognize these as being for ballet, but more specifically they’re pointe shoes. This is because in our AU, one of Felix’s activities as a civilian is ballet. To some extent his whole costume is inspired by ballet costumes

Quick side note before I finish up on the actual costume things, the reason he decided to go into ballet is because we’re saying that Emilie was a ballerina, probably not professional or anything; but she was in ballet and so Felix went into it for a connection to his mom.

Also Emilie disappeared when they were way younger, probably like five to eight or something instead of a year before canon starts up

Okay so I think that’s everything I’ve got for notes on the actual drawing. Feel free to ask questions or give suggestions or whatever if you have any. Anyways, now its time for powers, design elements that aren’t seen in the drawing, and any other cool details I can think of:

So we decided Felix would look good with long hair, its darker blond than Chloé or Adrien have but not like a super dark blonde or anything. It’s only long when he’s transformed, and he usually just keeps it in a low ponytail. But at some point, maybe its a really slow patrol day or they’re just chillin together or something, Ladybug (yes its still our lady Marinette) decides that he should experiment with his hair and decides to try out some styles on him and see what he likes

I mentioned before that he’s in ballet, but much like in for Adrien in canon, ballet is far from his only activity. Another activity of his, and one that he shares with Adrien both in canon and in our AU, is fencing; because of this we decided to make his weapon be a rapier

I didn’t draw one, but realistically there’s gotta be some sort of belt or something to store his rapier on. I don’t know what exactly that’d look like, but it’d probably have a spot for the rapier on both hips and some pockets

Okay so we don’t have a ton planned for his powers, but we are gonna have more then just Cataclysm for his powers

Also I think we’ll have Cataclysm work through his actual weapon not his claws like in the show

He will still have claws though, they’ll probably be golden tooHe’s also gonna have some sort of shadow travel type of thing, partly to help him keep up with Ladybug (since she can literally fly and still has her yoyo) but also partly. For anyone who doesn’t know, shadow travel is basically teleportation, but from one shadow to another; we’d have a different name for it though because shadow travel is the name Rick Riordan used for this in his books

His final design might have epaulets, those shoulder pad ish lookin things you see on prince outfits, but I couldn’t draw those so they’re not on here at least

We haven’t talked much about his mask, but I did find this is a google search while writing this post:

Now obviously white and gold with only little black accents isn’t really his color scheme, but something like this with different colors is definitely an idea we like for our Prince’s mask. Can’t guarantee it cause this idea is something we just thought of, but I think it’ll stay because I’m now loving the idea of Night Prince with a mask like this one

I think that’s everything we’ve got relating to Felix’s superhero persona for now. It’s probably gonna be a while before I do another post all about one of the heroes because I don’t have any other designs done. Maybe I’ll do just kinda a general info dump post about the AU as a whole? Not sure yet. But if I do make another superhero post soon then on a guess it’ll probably be on either Rusé Rouge (our Fox!Nathaniel) or Sailor Turtle (Turtle!Adrien).

Anyways, feel free to let me know your thoughts. If you have any suggestions for this design or Queen Bee’s design then feel free to comment them here, dm me, send me an ask, whatever you want. Same goes for if you have any questions about anything else for this AU, I love this AU so much and would love to share our ideas with this fandom.

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jungkooks-tea · 6 years ago

Text

Straight to the Pointe I pt. 2 (M)

Originally posted by kookiegguk

After working years to place yourself in the best academy for the arts you struggle to find the same love for ballet you once had under the intense pressure and blinding lights of the industry. The balance is almost impossible and with cocky hip-hop dancer, Jeon Jungkook, always around showing you another world entirely, you aren’t sure what you want anymore.

- Pairing: hiphop!jungkook x ballet!reader (small side Jiminxreader)

- Word Count: 7k

- Genre: College!Au (kinda, arts school), eventual smut, enemies to lovers

- Warnings: multiple smut scenes, really simple dance talk, industry abuse, eating disorder, no beta reader

- A/N: I just want to again say thank you for the all the love from part one. This story is so much fun to write and I’m glad that I gave it shot and even uploaded it. Thanks for the comments, likes, and reblogs - I hope you’ll continue to enjoy it. Also, I just want to bring attention to the fact that I am by no means a professional dancer nor ever was. This story is not a factual representation of the ballet industry. It is much more angsty.

Pt. 1 I 2 I

part two

5:43 A.M.

You sighed as you look down at your athletic watch, a small puff of condensation leaving your mouth. The early morning air was chilly around your form making you grateful that you wore your runners’ long-sleeve instead of the tank top that you usually opted in for your morning runs. The last glimpses of summer were trying to find their way in, but you and the rest of Korea knew that fall was coming quickly.

Releasing yourself from your small break at the street sign change you took off again in your brisk jog. Your step was a bit more picked up than from the start of your run – your warm bed somehow screaming out your name loud enough for you to hear across campus.

It was almost dreadful getting out of bed this morning. You had slept horribly during the night, twisting and turning with anxiety due to class and fucking tights. Jungkook, the asshole, was also part of the dilemma, but you believed that if you just tried to ignore that one the problem would go away soon enough. He was simply not worth the lack of sleep – stupid comments and more.

Making room for the other early joggers on the walkway, you made sure to keep your head down. Though there weren’t many runners you would rather keep any interaction to a minimum. Not only do you think you wouldn’t be capable to keep a conversation up – even if you did know them and they wanted to stop and chat – you weren’t exactly the nicest before you had your coffee reward at the end of your daily run.

So, when you saw another runner coming up ahead, hood up hiding his identify you didn’t think twice about just looking ahead and continuing on.

“A-ah! Y/N! Hey!”

You quickly stopped, your sneakers giving a light sound against the pavement. Looking behind you to see who could know you – hoping that it would be just a quick ‘hello and goodbye’ type of thing. But it wouldn’t be.

Smiling at you with one of the brightest smiles in the industry was Park Jimin. You watched as he quickly took out his earbuds and walked up to you. Immediately you felt embarrassed. Here was Jimin, one of the most beautiful people to probably walk this campus, even in his blue hoodie and grey joggers, coming up to you, someone who looked like they got punched in both eyes due to the bags under them and sweaty from running. “Great,” you thought. But you tried to muster up the best smile you could because this had to be fate, right?

“Hey Y/N!” he greeted again. “What happened yesterday, I was paying one minute and the next you were gone?”

You felt bad. You honestly did. Not only were you lucky enough to meet Jimin, have dinner with him (plus friends), but after receiving nothing but kinds words you ditched. But his annoying friend got the best of you. Though you knew you could not say that. Instead, you came up with a little lie.

You hand gripped onto your other limb’s long sleeve in some form of support. “Ya, sorry about that. I suddenly remembered I forgot something at the ballet studio and needed to rush over before the building got locked up.” You hoped he bought it, especially since the ballet studio was left unlocked for long hours over weekdays. You summed it up with the following “I was really gladded that I got to meet you and the others though. I had no idea that Mina knew you.”

Jimin gave a wonderful laugh in return. “Well I’m glad that you were able to get there on time,” you smiled in return. “Still,” he continued. “I would have liked to talk with you more. I mean, like, I know you from competitions and programs, but I don’t know you. Mina mentioned that you were nice though.”

Chewing on your bottom lip you felt a small blush form on your cheeks. You hoped that Jimin thought it was from the cold.

“I don’t know if you’re done with your run or not, but there is this small coffee place just a little off from here that I usually go to after I finish mine. Would you like to go?”

You tried to keep your head-nodding controlled and cool as you agreed with him, “Y-yes, I would love too.”

Jimin smiled in return, turning towards the way you had come, and he was going originally – waiting for you to fall in step with him.

The sound of your bed yelling out to you no longer filled your ears.

Just the sound of Jimin’s laugh.

________________

The coffee shop was truly a short distance from where the two of you had made contact. It was very small but was warm and smelled delightfully of the cinnamon rolls. You couldn’t remember the last time you had one but apparently the aroma was enough to have your mouth salivating.

Jimin, the wonderful gentlemen he was, held thoughtful conversation with you the entire way and even held the door for you. You understood that those actions were just honestly common decency, but it was towards you from the other young dancer, so, it meant so much more.

“What do you want? My treat,” Jimin started taking out his card from his phones wallet’s case hugging the back of the black silicone.

You almost gagged at him. How can someone, whom you honestly barely know outside professionalism, be this good to you? But you made movement to stop him.

“A-ah, no it’s fine I can pay. You literally just paid for our meal yesterday, it wouldn’t be right.”

He laughed, not stopping from walking up to the counter where someone else was ordering first. “It’s okay, Y/N. I stopped you. And I invited you.” You started to try and argue again but was hushed. “Besides I know how much those pointe shoes cost and I know how fast someone like you can go through them, so let me just do this for you, ya?”

The urge to argue again was wanting to break through your lips, but in the end, Jimin was already speaking with the barista to order. He looked at you raising an eyebrow to tell you to get a move on.

“A small black coffee please – the blonde roast.”

“No cream?” Jimin asked as you two made your way to the small booth by the windows.

Shaking your head you replied, “No, I much more prefer my coffee black.” That was another lie. Though you could drink coffee straight, your body continually craved the smooth crème that helped sooth the bitter taste of your caffeine pumped liquid. You just couldn’t have it.

“So, do you like Minji so far? It’s probably a big contrast compared to any other program you’ve been a part of, ya?” Jimin started taking the seat across of you. He used the hand not on his own cup of coffee to push back some his blonde hair – messing it slightly. “I know that I was pretty overwhelmed when I got here a year ago.”

You almost forgot. Jimin was a year ahead, and in terms of skill level, was probably looking at completing the program early. You could only wish to be on the same path as him, but what was his path? The young dancer across from you was kind of a wild card in your mind and in many others. One day he was appearing in ballet magazines and the next thing he wasn’t – but you still found him in similar programs as you occasionally, dancing to Tchaikovsky and Verdi. What were his plans for the future?

Your finger scraped against the mug’s ceramic, pondering. “Well, it is definitely different – that’s for sure.” Jimin nodded, waiting for you to continue. “I mean Minji has always been the plan, but I guess no amount of preparation can prepare you for Ms. Younghee.”

Jimin’s locks flooded upwards as his full out laughed, craning his head back against the cushion. It was musical sounding and even a bit boyish – but you liked it, a lot. Between his word’s giggles continued to escape, “Younghee,” he started. “Ya I guess the witch can be pretty intimidating.”

This time you actually gaped at him. Making him laugh even more.

“I mean don’t, get me wrong, she was an amazing dancer, but no one is that good to be treating people like their bugs on their shoe.”

You were honestly shocked. While you understood that Younghee was by no means everyone’s cup of tea, the argument was that she could do what she wanted because of just how great she was. But here was Jimin, a born dancer, saying that Younghee really wasn’t worth the hype she was given.

“Is,” you contemplated your next question carefully, not wanting to offend the man across from you. “Is that why you’re not officially part of the ballet program? Because you don’t like Younghee?”

Jimin took a quick sip of his beverage before placing it down and smiling at you. The warmness remained not only on his face, but also in your chest. “That and for other reasons. I love ballet – I really do. But I’ve found myself to be leaning away from it professionally. To be honest,” he looked out the window, “I don’t really know what I want to do yet.”

Though you tried to not let it fester, your chest began to tighten uncomfortably. You understood that Jimin was, well, he was exceptional, and had the ability to pick and choose. He could do ballet, he could do lyrical, and, from what you saw yesterday, he could live in the world of hip-hop too. But here he was telling you that ballet wasn’t his true calling – even if he took upper-class and solo lessons. Perhaps it was because you weren’t in the same position as him, having the capability to do it all, that it made you jealous.

Ballet was all that you knew and was the thing that made you get up in the morning and strive to be better – to become the best. If something happened to you – where you couldn’t put on your pointe shoes anymore – you don’t know what your life would be even worth. You knew that many other dancers felt this way too.

You were shoved out of your own thoughts as you watched Jimin get up, grabbing your empty cup. He dropped the ceramics in the dish bin before making his way back over, “You ready to go? Sorry I didn’t even ask what time you needed to get going.”

You stared up at him, taking in his beautiful skin and smiling face. Nodding you stood up and left out the door with him.

Maybe you were overthinking and shouldn’t be feeling the way you do. Ballet wasn’t for everyone and maybe Jimin just found passion in something else.

________________

Your conversation with Jimin stayed in your mind many hours after you said goodbye.

Now in the same dressing room as yesterday, this time dressed correctly and with no fucking teared tights you waited tell Mina returned back from the restroom. She had asked why you left so suddenly after dinner via text last night, but you were honestly too tired to even explain. Opting to just tell her that Jungkook had gotten too much for you to handle during warmups.

“Y/N.”

You looked up and smiled at Mina who had just returned. Her hair was up in a stylish double bun that helped keep her long hair out of the way made her look even a bit cuter than normal. You have always preferred to keep your hair in the professional and standard single bun, hair neatly pinned back so nothing could potentially fall out of place. Perhaps it was because you were trained to never standout unless need be and that in ballet, looking the same was better than being unique. You envied Mina a little at this moment who perhaps was not structured this way in her ballet upbringing.

“Hey, Mina, look!” you gave an exaggerated leg thrust to show off your toned leg covered in a light pink fabric. “No tear!”

Mina giggled, happy to know that your day was off to a much better start compared to yesterday. She continued to smile towards you, watching as you pushed yourself off the bench you were sitting on. Slowly, following many other dancers out the door, you and Mina made your way to the main practice studio. You noticed how the walls, unlike those at the hip-hop studio, had little to no natural light. The small windows allowing little warmth to penetrate into the mirror filled room. It made you frown a little.

“So, are you going to tell me why you just left yesterday?”

You gave a silent groan feeling the urge to grab at your hair. Giving Mina an apologetic look you started, “Ya, sorry about that Mina. It’s just that Jungkook guy really kept hitting my buttons. When you guys were paying inside, he just kept calling me ‘Prima’ and, I don’t know, it just really got on my nerves, I guess. Maybe I was being overdramatic.”

Mina raised her delicate hand to her mouth not wanting to draw attention to her little laughing fit. “But Y/N, you are a Prima.”

You just about fell over in shock. How could Mina, probably your one true friend here, say that to you. Wasn’t she your ally? “M-mina! How could you say—"

“I mean, let’s be honest Y/N,” she smiled at you gently. Looking over she watched over the other dancers work on their own warmups, some of them showing off how many pirouettes they could do – like children in 5th level ballet classes. “You probably have the talent to actually be a Prima Ballerina one day – to be like Ms. Younghee. So maybe Jungkook was actually complimenting you.”

You struggled with her comments, though you knew they came from a good place in her heart. Even flattered that she thought you could one day be like Younghee. Despite what Jimin said earlier, Younghee was someone who everyone wanted to be in the industry. To have her parts, her connections, her history. Though you doubted that Jungkook was actually trying to compliment you. You figured he was probably a guy who thought ballet was boring and not worth the funds nor hype that the school put into it. He was probably jealous and gave the same treatment to the other ballerinas he came across.

Either way, you were just going to forget about him and focus on your own business. Hip-hop and ballet didn’t exactly mix, so you figured you’d only see him in passing again – if ever.

The two of you made your way towards the same bar location as yesterday, fitting yourself in to begin stretches and warmups. You didn’t have to miss a rotation this time due to your tights and was able to go back to your automatic, almost robotic-like. Just how you preferred. No distractions. No wandering thoughts. Just you, and the bar.

Almost as soon as the clock hit 12, the door to the room opened. Pushing yourself into a tight first-position, you watched as Younghee made her way to the center of the room. Taking a look around to make witching eye contact with almost every person in the room. You tried not to look away when she graced you with her vision – it seemed to last an entirety.

She made her way to the old speaker, hitting the small button to play the same music as the day before.

Always the same.

________________

Younghee spared nothing today. She worked every single person to the bone. Your own leotard was damp with sweat – thankful to the black color for hiding it. There have been many lessons that have gotten you to the point of exhaustion in your career, but to Younghee this seems to be her normal. There was an odd twinge in your triceps as you lowered your arms for the final time for this class. Although your arms have been sculpted over the years to be slim with muscle underneath, the work they went through today made them ache with foreign pressure. Perhaps you had been focusing too much on legs the past couple of months in preparing for Minji that you half-assed your other important limbs.

“I need to go to the gym after this” you thought with a small scowl. You were hoping that you’d have time to maybe do some reading – your only form of downtime. Even if it was readings about ballet history and performance memoirs.

You were brought out of your thoughts as the most important woman in the room began to speak – her tone even but eyes scorching.

“As many of you probably already know, Minji Academy puts on many productions throughout the year. But of course, the most important is the Nutcracker.” The room didn’t buzz with excitement like it would have when you were children.

The Nutcracker, a timeless favorite to young and old viewers, was much more to those who performed on stage. It was an opportunity to showcase what you learned, how you behaved on stage, and, even more so, where you were in the industry hierarchy. You were most definitely talented if even given a role – two even – but anyone could tell you there was a difference between being casted as a party member and being the Dew Drop. And as first years, it was even more important because if you were given a part that was mostly reserved to upperclassmen. It meant that you were better and someone to watch closely.

You felt yourself stand up a bit straighter – if physically possible - as your thoughts ran away with possibilities. Everyone in the room did the same.

Younghee began to move among the room, each step purposeful and elegant. “Now, there are only about two months ‘n half tell then which means that auditions will be next week.”

Again, there was little buzz, this was normal. Auditions unlike what many people thought in the ballet world, were not people going in solo announcing they were looking to play the part of such and such. It was a big hall filled with dancers all doing as they were instructed and being watched under the careful eye of multiple instructors – looking for who would be the best for which part. You didn’t know who was going to get what until the paper was posted.

“I trust that everyone here will be part of the audition, but may I say, that not everyone will get a part. Let that speak for itself.” Again, nothing in the atmosphere changed. “Dismissed”

The room, like before, and as everyday would be, erupted in light applause towards Younghee – thanking her for her words and presence.

You looked at Mina, silently asking if she was ready to go. However, as she nodded and started walking towards the door you, and most others, stopped as Younghee’s voice came through.

“Ms. Y/L/N.” You froze. Mentally, you double checked everything you did today in hyper-speed. You were dressed correctly, hair still in place even at the end of the lesson and didn’t even speak. What did you do wrong? What could she want? “I would like to speak to you for a moment.” The older woman began to walk towards the door, the rest making room so she could do so.

Mina and you made a quick eye exchange as you followed the woman, trying to not let the other eyes the burrowed into your body bother you. You noticed the smirk the Jihyun gave you but ignored the snake as you made your way out the door.

You stayed a couple feet back from Younghee as she made continued to walk in silence. Rather quickly you noticed that you were heading towards her office.

Patiently you watched as the older woman sat down in her office chair, pinching a piece of nonexistent lint from her formal long sleeve. With long fingers she signaled towards the seat. You sat, no question.

Looking around the large office you noted the dark frames that protected several photographs – some black-n-white others of color. Many were of Younghee herself from back in her prima ballerina years showing off her elegance in action. Others were of birds, snapshots that were not quite good enough to be professional but still nicely lite and focused. Perhaps Younghee had a hobby outside of scaring ballerinas out of their tutus?

“I’m sure you are wondering why I’ve brought you to my office Ms. Y/L/N.” You gave a slow nodded answer. “I’m here to discuss your future here at Minji Academy. I know that you are aware that I accept nothing but the best and nothing but the best moves forward in this industry.”

Your chest felt tight. Was she already kicking you out? Did you mess up somewhere and didn’t notice? Did you miss a single rotation? This is all you ever wanted. If you were kicked out now… you didn’t know what you would do.

“Usually I do not delve into the previous life of my dancers here at the academy – I trust that those in admission have some half of a brain to recognize potential – and I never truly care either whether they won this or that program or dance in some offshore production of Swan Lake. As far as I’m concerned as soon as a dancer steps into my studio, they are nothing more than bodies until they can show me that they are actually worth my time.”

Your bottom lip hurt; you hadn’t realized that you were biting it quite so roughly. Using the tip of your tongue you tasted for copper – not being able to afford any sort of bruise on your body. But what was Younghee getting at?

“However,” you watched as she placed her hands on top of each other, noting that there was no ring on her left hand. “When someone like Kim Eun recommends somebody to me, I don’t necessarily just overlook it.”

Although she continued to look somewhat bored, Younghee finally made full eye contact with you. Her dark eyes, looking into yours as if searching for something more than you were presenting. You, on the other hand, felt a slight sign of relief course through your body. As Jimin had brought up the day before, Kim Eun, a highly esteemed judge and former dancer, had given one of her highest scores at a program you danced at not too long ago. It was one of your proudest moments and something that you personally cherished – but never truly shared. After that program, many recruiters sent you emails and personal messengers to ask for you to apply to their school or even their company. But your heart had been set on Minji since the beginning so none of them truly mattered.

“I just want to let you know that I’m watching you very closely Ms. Y/L/N. And that I expect nothing but perfection from you from this moment on. And while Ms. Kim’s score and recommendation perhaps makes you think you are good enough already, you aren’t.”

You try not to wince at her latter comment.

“I will work you like you have never before, and I expect that you will handle it without problem. I will challenge you and see to it that you do not fail me or this academy.” You nod. It is the only thing you can do.

“That is all, you may leave.”

You quietly thank the woman and leave the office, softly closing the door behind you with a click.

Once outside the door you placed yourself against the wall, taking in deep breaths. Your heart was racing, and your face felt too hot for comfort. While what Younghee said could potentially be taken as a compliment, the thought that her eyes would be watching you more intensely, judging every move, every mistake was incredibly daunting. You felt like you were going to throw up.

“Y/N?”

Jumping slightly at the sudden voice you lift your head to see Mina approaching you, a slightly worried look on her face. Your brown bag was in her hand, she must have grabbed it after leaving the dressing room to come find you. She was too kind.

She approached you, her face was clearly trying to put on a brave face because honestly one of you had to be at the moment. Quickly, to not worry her enough, you said, “Hey. I’m fine. Younghee just wanted to speak to me about my future here I guess.” You gave a gruff light laugh at the end, making you sound unconvincing.

Mina raised a thin eyebrow to this, but instead of questioning anything -or really just wanting to get it off your mind – she changed the topic completely. Giving your bag to you in the process. “Jimin texted me while you were with Younghee. Said there was going to be a small party this weekend if we were interested in going.” She blushed a little, putting back that non-existent hair strand. You could already tell that Mina wanted to go, by the little buzz of excitement she silently gave away at her comment. She was just looking to see if you wanted to go.

Honestly you were not a party goer, or even more true, there hadn’t been many to go to when you were growing up. Ballet and school consumed your entire schedule. Any true precious time off was for catching up on rest. It shocked you that at a school like this there were even parties. But perhaps Minji was more than just classical music and ballet. And not everyone had Younghee watching them like a hawk.

“I-I’ll see if anything is taking my time this weekend.” That is all you could give her, and while Mina honestly hadn’t known you for that long she understood that was just how you were.

“Well,” she started looking at you with a smile, “let’s go find a practice room.”

________________

You slowly stretched your arms in the corner of the school’s private gym. Although you were tired – exhausted actually - from Younghee’s lesson today, the strain in your triceps worried you. Normally you would incorporate yoga to help strengthen your arms outside of class, but you thought that the lack of focus and time has had them grow slightly weaker. And thus, were in dire need from the assistance of weight machines at an actual gym.

The gym wasn’t bad. It had the necessary equipment and gave people at the academy who weren’t in dance programs to work out well enough. But because the primary programs were dance, there were more wide-open spaced rooms that could double as solo practice rooms if the other buildings were being used. You and Mina had frequented those before official classes had begun during orientation week. And at this current time of day, it was fairly empty.

You loved to work out to be honest. It was the only time you really allowed yourself to listen to music outside of the classics and let the fire of current hits and old ones fill your ears and your veins. It made you want to move.

“Perfect,” you thought.

Searching for a simple machine to use you walked up to a pull-down bar. Taking a quick seat and adding the weight you desired you began to move. The twinge in your arm gave an uncomfortable tickle with each pulldown, but you assumed it was from lack of proper use and the weights giving a challenge. A couple more reps and you’d be good to—

“Prima?”

You almost groaned out loud.

Although muffled by your earbuds, you could not miss the sound of a very unwelcomed voice. Releasing the bar you were holding carefully you turned slightly to look at the man that you honestly thought you weren’t going to see again. Apparently, fate had different plans.

With a small smirk on his lips, Jungkook stood over you, forcing you to look up at him from your seated position at the machine. He was in a pair of black joggers and a plain white shirt that looked a little big on him. You noticed the dampness on his shirt around the sternum area. It caused the material to stick slightly to his chest, giving a decent outline of pectorals.

You were quick to look away to not only save yourself from being caught staring and to honestly signal that you were not really wanting his attention. Hot or not, he wasn’t your current favorite person.

“What you’re not going to talk to me?”

You gave an exaggerated huff, hoping he would get the hint. Apparently, he didn’t by the way he continued to stand there. Giving an eye-roll you turned back to him saying, “I’m trying to work out.” You didn’t except the chuckle that left him.

“I can see that, but what are you trying to do? Give yourself a tear?” You just raised your brow at him, not quite understanding. “The way you’re holding the bar and the weight you have on here is not good. Nor giving you the benefits you think you’re getting.” You weren’t really sure what he meant. Sure, you weren’t exactly the most knowledgeable about this particular machine, but you imagined – based on the image example pasted on it -that you were doing fine. And the weight wasn’t that heavy.

“Here, let me show you.”

Hesitating at first you gave Jungkook another sideways glance. Why was he trying to help you? You clearly made it known that you didn’t like him – you picked a fight with him and flipped him off during your little storm out. And now, one day later, he was trying to help your form? Did he forget or was he just ignorant?

You felt the twinge return to your triceps. The unpleasant tickle making you wince slightly more. You figured, if the dark-haired idiot, could help you, you might as well let him. After your discussion with Younghee you knew that you needed to get better. And desperate times call for desperate measures.

Sighing, you twisted around, lifting your bare leg to get off the cushioned bench you were on. You didn’t miss the way Jungkook stared for the quick movement. Such a boy.

Sitting down soon enough Jungkook began to mess with the weight settings, adjusting them to the weight he liked. You had to admit you were a bit impressed with the heavy load he believed he could handle.

“First your weights were too heavy.” He started off. “You want enough to fill a slight burn but not so much that you feel like you’re pushing yourself too much. Or else you might get bulky. And from seeing the way you and the rest of your tutu-wearing friends look, I assume that isn’t what you want.” You rolled your eyes, already regretting agreeing to his help. “Also, your grip was incorrect, you want to do it the opposite way, so it actually works your triceps muscle.” Using one hand to hold the puller low – oh so maybe this was light weight for him? – he pushed his white sleeve up revealing his taut muscle that was flexing from the pressure to show you how it was working the correct muscle. You tried not to stare too long at the tanned skin, but you couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like in your hands.

You felt yourself get a little red.

Watching, Jungkook followed through with a couple of reps. Your eyes wandered up his arms as they began to show enlarged veins from the workout to the way the slight movement of his back-shoulder muscles underneath the white cotton. He was really pretty.

If it wasn’t for the clang that rug as he dropped the weights upon release you might have been still in a light trance. You watched as he got back up gripping the front of his shirt to air out. “Alright your turn.”

You sat back down at the machine. Placing the weight ring a bit higher up to lighten your original load. Correcting your hold, you began to do one rep, followed by another, and another. It did feel better and the twinge in your triceps weren’t uncomfortable like before. Now they just burned lightly – the type that came with building muscle.

Your grip on the bar was almost released as you felt a large hand land on the center of your back. Quick to regain a solid hold you twisted your neck to look back at Jungkook who just smiled at you and your questioning stare.

“You need to straighten your back more.”

That almost made laugh. Here he was telling you that you needed to sit straighter. Someone who has spent almost their entire life to become a body with perfect posture. But instead of commenting you pushed yourself to be more pin-like and began to repeat your arm motions. The warmth of his hand was lost a second later.

“See? That’s better right?”

You let go of the bar, allowing your arms to rest until you wanted to start the next set. “How do you know all this, are you a personal trainer or something?”

Jungkook laughed, shaking his head no. “Nah, I just like to work out. And believe it or not, us other dancers and junk-thrusters have to stay in shape too.”

You bit your lip, realizing that he definitely did not forget about your comments from outside the restaurant. “Ah, well, um, thank you,” you sounded unsure, almost embarrassed. “For showing me how to use the machine.”

Jungkook gave you a wide grin, one that you didn’t think you’d be on the receiving end of. He gave you a quick ‘no problem!’

Maybe you were bit quick to judge Jungkook. Jimin was clearly close friends with him and he was quick to help you figure out a better way to work your arms. Maybe, he was actually someone who—

“You have great legs by the way, Prima.”

--was still annoying as hell.

________________

You spent another hour at the gym, working your arms the way Jungkook showed you and then finished off on the treadmill so you maybe wouldn’t have to run in the morning and get to sleep in for another hour. A luxury.

Jungkook had retreated to his own corner of the gym, where there were many more loose weights available. You saw him joking around with a couple of the guys that were also there, making fun while also helping each other lift if one wanted too. You tried not to stare and focus on yourself – and so you wouldn’t be caught.

You took a long drag of your water bottle as you fished for your towel in your gym bag. It was around 9:30 and the gym closed earlier on Fridays, so you figured it was best to get going. Whipping down the perspiration you gathered during you’re run you reached for your phone to see if you received any messages. A text from Mina and a missed call from your mom. You’d text Mina on your way back to the dorm and call you mom in the morning.

“Hey bunhead, you done?”

The sudden intrusion made you jump slightly. Turning around you again faced Jungkook. His shirt was damper than when you saw him an hour ago, sticking to his front much more than before. Even his dark hair began to curl and stick to his tacky face, the result of a hard workout.

“Really? ‘Bunhead’ now?” You crossed your arms while looking at him as he used a towel to dab at his own face. “Have you never met another ballet dancer? We don’t necessarily appreciate the children names.” Jungkook froze for a second, head still in the towel making you unable to see his expression.

He reemerged a moment later, face now dry, and smirked at you. You tried to not think of how appealing the smile was. “Nah, I just get a kick over how you get so pissed over something that should only bother kids, Prima.” At this point all you could do is roll your eyes and continue to pack up, grabbing your bag and slinging it around your pointy shoulder.

“Well this kid, is going to go. Thanks for helping me at the weights.” You began to stroll off, heading towards the doors – excited to emerge into the cool night weather. Although your walk to your dorm was a good distance from the gym, it allowed you to collect your thoughts and mentally map you next day. A break from everything.

“Prima,” You turned around to see Jungkook jogging over with his own bag in hand. “Let me walk with you.” In more simple scenarios you might be flattered that a man, who could clearly handle his own, would want to walk with you. But this was the obnoxious hip-hop dancer that had a thing for stupid nicknames. So, you didn’t know if you were that lucky.

“You don’t even know which way I’m heading.” What if Jungkook was actually a serial killer you thought. What if he was trying to lead you towards your ultimate doom and leave your disfigured figure in the woods just off of campus? Pretty, wide, brown eyes or not – he could still be dangerous.

“Y/N, you’re just being stupid,” you told yourself.

“I figured you’re probably heading towards South Tower, that’s where most of you dancers live – close to the ballet studio.” Okay, maybe he was just observant. “I live in West, but I usually grab a slice of pizza at Mario’s before heading in.” Mario’s was this super small, school ran pizza place near your hall that was open super late to drag in those who crave a greasy, cheesy slice in the evening. Or hungry hip-hop dancers after a workout apparently. “You want to grab a slice with me?”

You could remember the last time you had pizza. It was three years ago at a small get together with ballerinas. Instead of indulging in the savory crust like most young adults would, the pizza was used as an awful dare. If you lost at whatever game, you were playing you would have to eat an entire slice. You lost. The memory of holding your hair up to throw it back up when you went home was still fresh in your mind.

Further you were shocked that Jungkook thought the two of you had a relationship to even invite you to do such. Though he did help you tonight, and you returned with gratitude, it still didn’t change the fact that you yelled at him in public and was rather rude to him too. Maybe as the youngest of his friend group, he was used to snarky comments to just not care. Innocent invite or not, there was no way you were going to eat pizza.

“I, um,” you tried to think of a good excuse. “I don’t really like—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” you looked at him as he gave you a rather gentle smile. “Just make sure you eat something when you get back to your dorm. Something with protein. Not eating after could actually make you lose all the effects of your workout from today. Doesn’t have to be a lot, just something.” Maybe you were thinking too much into it, but he sounded so gentle at the end of his statement.

“Ya, okay. I think I have something in my fridge.”

“Cool, let’s go.” He took off down the sidewalk. All you could do is watch his broad shoulder before walking after him.

________________

Jungkook had said goodbye as the two of you reached the door of Marios – the smell from outside was heavenly and tempted you dearly, but you already committed to rejecting the slice of mozzarella. Instead, you thanked him for walking you back and said goodnight. Leaving the boy to enjoy his pizza alone.

Your roommate, who you honestly never saw, was not in the dorm when you returned. But you liked it this way. You were able to enjoy some more silence and even not fret over taking up the bathroom for a long period of time.

Placing your gym bag in your room, you walked back out to the very small kitchenette to grab a glass of water. “Water, shower, bed,” you thought.

However, as you filled up your glass you turned towards the fridge. Although you knew you didn’t have anything in there of your own but baby-carrots, you could look. Opening the white door, you saw that it was fairly bare. Your baby-carrots were in there along with some dark chocolate your roommate like to eat cold and celery. You two were both dancers and so didn’t have a lot of time to shop for groceries. However, in the corner, in the back, you saw a small container reading ‘Plain Greek-Yogurt’ – it wasn’t yours.

Doesn’t have to be a lot, just something, Jungkook’s voice said in your mind.

You hesitated for a moment. Not because it wasn’t yours but because you were thinking of everything that might be in the personal container. How many calories? How much sugar? How much, how much, how much?

Just something.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed it and closed the fridge. Grabbing a spoon from the nearby drawer you raced back to your room. Sitting on your bed you slowly opened the yogurt container.

Not wanting to second guess yourself you dumped the spoon in, quickly brought it back and placed it into your mouth. With no sweetener, the taste was slightly sour and gave you small goosebumps.

It was amazing.

...

Some people asked to be added to a taglist, but I honestly don’t know how to make one or if I’m doing this right. I’ve been on Tumblr a long time but really don’t know anything other than liking and reblogging, hahaha. So for now, until I learn how to make one, I’ll just @ them.

@mycurrentusernameisalreadytaken @mrcleanheichou @marvelatthemadness

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boogiewrites · 6 years ago

Text

Mae Flowers 4

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Mae LeBlanc (OFC)

Word Count: 4900

Summary: A modern, magical Alfie Solomons AU.

Warnings/Tags: Language.Magic/Supernatural. Soul mates. Racism, microaggressions. Some domestic fluff, getting to know you stage. Talk of past neglect, depression, anxiety.

Click on my screenname then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

Mae wakes up for the second morning in a row well rested. She'd gone to bed with a full stomach, having eaten their weight in seafood and grits the night before. She felt more at ease today with the fact that there was a man living with her now. He'd stood up for her, helped her cook and put Ruth and Nance's minds at ease for. She felt a warm feeling when she thought of him. It could be the magic, she thought.

Her inner light was growing stronger, it was being fed with another power like it's own, the darkness stirring up her previously unstable energies, making it build and heal itself from all the years alone and unsure. Alfie gave her a strange sense of fullness, stability of sorts she hadn't expected. Normally having another person in her life would make her feel anxious, second-guessing everything she did at the expense of her own peace of mind to keep the other person comfortable. But that wasn't happening with him.

She throws on her robe, scratching her head and yawning big, the smell of coffee hitting her nose as soon as her slippers start bopping across the old hardwood floor towards the kitchen. Alfie stood leaned against the counter in pajama pants and a soft, sleep rumpled t-shirt. His hair was a mess, one side flat and the other sticking up, his eyes lazy with smacking lips as he scratched his stomach waiting on the coffee pot to deliver.

"Mornin' love." he says with a slow nod, his voice deep and sleepy.

"Mornin'." she grumbles, taking a seat at the table in a sunbeam. Percy lets out a little 'mrrrrowl' of greeting, bumping his head to hers as she runs her fingers along his spine. "Hey Perce." she mutters, his tail swishing in her face and making her nose twitch. She's slowly waking up, Percy laid out in front of her on his back, trying to be cute and keep her attention.

"Hazlenut or French Vanilla?" Alfie asks, standing with the fridge door open, staring into the dull glow.

"Thought you could read my mind." she smirks, her head slowly turning to him.

"I can but you don't know which ya want." he retorts with a snarky smile.

"Hazlenut." she answers with a nod, watching him bring the two mugs over to the table as he plops down next to her, landing in the chair with a loud scoot of its legs across the floor.

So what's on the 'ol agenda today?" he asks, sitting up straight and cracking his spine.

"Uh... not much. We got ahead yesterday." she nods and closes her eyes, taking a sip of the hot liquid and letting it warm her from the inside out. "Thanks for that by the way." she says, eyes blinking open now, looking more alert.

"Don't mention it. I'm here to help." he nods and watches her over the steam rising from his mug.

"If you need to like, do stuff here today you can." she offers. "Just basic stuff for me today to do at the shop. No orders or anything. All caught up for the week." she states with a lazy smile of thanks. "If you wanna unpack and get used to the place... bond with Percy." she nods over the lazy white cat soaking up a sunbeam.

"I do have stuff I can do today with ya out. Get me things all situated. What do ya say Percy?" he asks the cat with a smirk on his face.

Percy raises his head and looks at him, blinking slowly. A weak meow escapes him before he lays back down totally uninterested.

"He doesn't care." Alfie chuckles.

"Alright." she nods, taking a bigger sip. "I'm gonna take this." she holds the mug in both hands and stands. "Gonna get a shower and get ready and be on my way. Make whatever you want, Friday's are my day I get a smoothie on the way to work." she says and he feels her excitement about the future purchase.

"Will do. I'll keep it simple. Lots of liftin' 'n that to do today." he groans and stretches, as she waddles back into her bedroom. ---- The calm she'd felt at home felt farther and farther away the further she got from home. The usual heaviness, that quivering ball of nerves that told her something was wrong, that she was wrong started to grow back into its usual place in her stomach. Mae sips her berry smoothie and leans over the front counter, her jeans feeling a little tight today, her toes curling and uncurling in the ballet flats that matched her green t-shirt that she'd had made for her company. Her loose spiral curls dancing around her shoulders, the various shades of almost black brown catching the light that came through the high windows of the crowded and humid building. This would be the only moment of peace that she got for the day, as the downpour of things that made her want to crawl up and disappear seemed to hit all at once, leaving her dazed and confused.

First, Jessica shows up. She struts in the door tits first with her large Starbucks cup in tow, overlined lips sucking away at the straw. She doesn't even look at Mae until she's right in front of the counter.

"What do ya need today Jessica?" Mae asks with a perfectly polite attitude, setting her drink down to the side.

"Where's that big leprechaun you've got in here now?" she asks with a smirk as she looks into the back of the shop.

"Leprechaun?" Mae's nose wrinkles up in question.

"What was his name. The big guy with the accent in here yesterday." she replies obviously, jutting a hip out in her annoyance.

"Oh. Alfie." Mae answers flatly.

"Yeah that big boy." she grins.

"He's not working today." she answers, trying to remain indifferent.

"Oh." she slumps and pushes her lips together into a tight line.

"He's also not a leprechaun." she clarifies. "He's English. Not Irish. And don't call Irish people leprechauns, that's just... some weird kind've racist."

"They're white and ginger, who cares?" she says without a thought and rolls her eyes. "Not like I'm calling you the n-word or something." she retorts like it means anything and Mae takes a deep breath.

"I'm not black, I'm Hispanic." she clarifies with a more forceful voice.

"Well, it's not like I'm calling you a... what's a racist word for a Mexican?"

"I'm Spanish not..."

"Tacos? Burritos? IS that something? Beans! Wait, no... Mexican jumping beans, yeah. Wait... that's not it."

"I know what you're thinking and there's no reason to say it. What do you want?" she answers more curtly.

"To see Alfie. He won't be in today?"

"No." another flat response.

"What's he doing today? Where's he at? What's his deal?" her inquisition begins, waving her cup in the air as she speaks.

Mae sighs and goes back to her smoothie. "He's at home. I don't know what he's doing. That's his business and you should respect his space. He was clearly not interested when you talked to him yesterday."

"He's just playing hard to get. You know guys, they act like assholes and you just have to get them to like you by doing stuff for them and letting them make fun of you sometimes. It's all part of it. Not like you would know. Not like anyone's trying to get with you." she snaps back.

"No, but that's..." Mae lets out a heavy sigh. "Whatever." she gives up and takes a noisy sip of her drink.

"So he lives with you?" Jessica says with a tilt of her head. "You said at home. If not where does he live, you probably have that on file for his employee records or something, right?" she asks , leaning over the counter.

"He does live with me." she decides to not address the clear violation giving an employees persona information would be as she figures it's pointless.

"Wait... so are you guys like a thing?" she says with a clearly disgusted look on her face.

"No. He's a friend of a friend, he's new in town and needed a place to stay and I had a spare room."

"I have a whole guest house if he wants to stay with me. Got a pool and a hot tub." she grins. "So let him know I've got a real house for him to stay at if he wants."

"Are you saying my house is abstract?" Mae chuckles to herself.

"What?" she says with a twist of her neck.

"Nothin'." Mae rolls her eyes. "If you don't need anything I've got stuff to do... so..." she says, looking over at the tall blonde under her lashes.

"You were just standing here so SORRY... thought you had free time." she retorts.

"I just opened. I have to let the systems boot up." she explains with a deadpan delivery.

"Is he workin' tomorrow?" she asks, one hand on the counter.

"No, we're closed tomorrow."

"Then Monday then?"

"Maybe." Mae shrugs.

"He's your employee, why don't you know?" she bites back.

"Because he's new here and he might need off to run errands to get everything settled." she says offers up. "Not that it's any of your business." she mutters.

"You just let your employee take off like that? Not knowing if he'll work and he can just drive around town all day?" she asks seriously.

Mae sighs again and takes another drink, not answering as a pain grew between her eyes.

"I wanna work for you then, dang." she laughs, her mood shifting fast. "Oh my God, ARE you hiring? I'd be willing to get my hands dirty for that little... whatever he is."

"He's English." Mae rolls her eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh.

"Little... what do English people do? Drink?" she asks seriously.

"Jessica I'm not hiring and just... please go, I have things to do." Maw says with a clear tone of exasperation.

"Fine. But I'll be back on Monday to see Alfie." she sass's taking a long drink from her straw as she walks backward, keeping an eye on Mae who watches her bump into a shelf as she tries to look cool making her exit.

"Bye Jessica." Mae says shaking her head.

"Tell Alfie I said Hiiiiii." she says before leaving.

"What an idiot." Mae says rubbing her forehead.

With a thoroughly racist and rude conversation to start the day, the day only picks up speed from there. A phone call comes in, an irate customer claiming she'd sabotaged her party. An order that was entered incorrectly by the customer, a miscommunication of what sort of flowers they wanted in their arrangements. Mae didn't know how this woman had written down Black-eyed Susan's instead of sunflowers on her order sheet, or picking a Transvaal daisy over a shasta daisy, but she was certain this woman was overreacting at how the arrangements ruined her church's barbeque. Mae had pictures of flowers next to the names of them in her big folder that sat on the top of the shop counter specifically for this reason. She gave the book to customers coming in to make orders and it wasn't her fault she filled out the order how it was written and what the woman wrote wasn't right. She couldn't read her mind. But still, she was blamed, getting dog cussed for all she was worth, the woman even bringing the Lord into it and telling her she'd had to refund her in full. Which was in no way happening. After you sign off on the delivery sheet, everything is final. No refunds. There was a chance to say they were wrong before she signed, that's why Mae set it up that way. But the woman wouldn't listen and Mae ends up just saying 'I'm Sorry.' to everything she says, taking the abuse.

The woman gives up eventually after a few people are waiting for her attention for the lunch rush. She works as fast as she can, but the line grows as a little old lady requires her undivided attention, asking about every flower, telling her stories about the flowers her husband used to bring her when he was alive. On a slow day Mae would've indulged her fully but with customers waiting behind her the stress was sky high.

She apologizes and leaves the lady to talk to herself, ringing out people as fast as she can while they give her dirty looks. She had great pride in being a good business owner and people thinking she was bad at her job made her a mess. A child that was with a negligent parent that had been waiting, knocks over a shelf of succulents, her biggest sellers, destroying the handmade pots she'd made for them. In all, the day was a total shit show.

She shuts the shop up and cries as she finally gets around to cleaning up the broken pieces of pottery, nestling her little friends into one big pot for the weekend to deal with on Monday. She apologizes to them and she feels they understand, her tears falling into the new soil as she sniffles and packs them in. She hesitantly throws away the shattered pieces of pottery, thinking off all the time she spent painting and glazing each, how much time and money lost on them. How she'd have to ask for half the price until she could make more holders for the plants. A personal and a professional loss all in one.

She doesn't even skate home as she usually would. She throws her skates in her oversized work bag and walks, her feet feeling as heavy as her heart. Everything about the day had drained her. Her body was tired, her chest hurt from a racing heart all day from embarrassment and anxiety. Her pride took a hit from the disappointed looks from the customers. She takes a heavy breath, hand on the doorknob, hoping that Alfie wasn't about to add to the bad day she'd had.

As soon as she opens the door, the feeling she'd left the house with hits her again. She wipes her tear stained cheeks, setting her bag down by the end of the couch, seeing everything clean and tidy with candles lit and the smell of food coming from the kitchen. The house smelled amazing, it somehow felt amazing, like getting into a hot bath after the end of a long day. The build of depression holds strong as she sees everything he's done for her while she'd been out.

"Hello Mae!" he calls out cheerfully. "Ya need help with anyfing?" he says, moving pots around the stove top. "Give me just a second love and I'll be right in to help ya." he calls out over his shoulder.

She comes around the corner, her face was sunken and clearly upset, taking in the sight before her. A kitchen filled with a home cooked meal for them both. She sees bread in the oven, lasagna sitting on the table as he switches off burners and pushes the rest of a chopped head of lettuce into a large salad bowl. A tin of muffin batter sits on a tea towel at the end of the counter. She gets a swirling feeling in her stomach. It builds quickly and she starts to sob, putting her head in her hands.

He turns, wiping his hands on a towel as his eyes grow large at the sight before him. Her glow was dull, her curls falling into her face as her hands with their yellow chipped polish covered her crying face.

"No, no love now that won't do." he says, moving quickly over towards her. He takes her into his arms without a moments hesitation. "Come here, little Mae." he coos out, holding her to him. As much as he may have wanted, he didn't have much healing magic to pass around, he wasn't really a healer so much as a destroyer of things. "Shhh, there, there, love." he pats his hand on her thick hair, the smell of her shampoo rising up as he leans his face in close. She feels the warmth around her, the soft-spoken kind words from this man who had swept in and taken care of her without expecting anything in return. She felt her chest thump, her stomach building again and more sobs are pushed out as she lets herself wrap her hands into his t-shirt and press her forehead against his chest.

He wears a deep-set frown, not knowing what was wrong, her thoughts a roller coasting of emotions, totally unstable and making his dizzy when he tried to read them. Her magic and mind were working hard and fast and he knew something must've set off the sensitive little thing she was. "Now lovely, we can talk 'bout what's got ya upset, or we don't have to say nuffin'." he gives a nod, putting his hands to her shoulders to pull her away, taking a handkerchief that was older than her out of his pocket and giving it to her.

She wipes her eyes and blows her nose with a little toot of a sound that makes him smile as she sniffles, nose twitching like a little rabbit. "I just wanna eat and sleep." she answers, staring into his chest, not looking up at him. Her voice was small but she felt smaller. She fought the urge to tell him she didn't deserve all this special treatment, she didn't understand why someone would be doing all these nice things for her. No one else ever had. Her last caregivers, the ones who left her the house had been good people, but they never coddled her. They never cleaned for her, held her while she cried, stood up for her when others would try to bring her down. They'd always left her to her own devices. She'd never had anyone to treat her like something worth going the extra mile for. It was all a bit too much on her weak shoulders after the day she'd had.

"Well lemme finish up dinner and you go get comfy and cozy on the couch and I'll come get ya and we'll take care of that 'eatin' bit, eh?" he suggests, rubbing her upper arms as he spoke to her with a voice that she could feel warming her from the inside out. Her light tried to fight past the years of neglect to make her bloom and be able to draw from that endless well of love she had so she could give it to her herself and not just those around her. But she was still weak, and there was time to grow. So it settles, feeling it's mate so close and humming in wait with a baseline of contentment.

She takes one of the fuzzy throws on the couch and wraps it around her, grabbing one of her decorative pillows and wrapping her arms around it to try to get comfy for a moment. She falls asleep while the bread is baking, her body giving over to a much-needed recharge after the stress that the day put her through.

Alfie pulls the muffins out and lets them cool, wiping his hands and giving a nod to the first big meal he'd cooked in decades. Being alone there wasn't much of a reason to cook big and when the last group of people he ran with being musicians in the 90's, he'd never had a reason to cook for a group of people. But now he had plenty of reasons to dust off the old domestic skills that his mother and sisters had helped him learn. The baking was more familiar, as per his old cover for his criminal days, but the meals were what took the most focus. With Mae's plethora of fresh herbs to use, and come harvest time a garden full of fresh produce, he was sure cooking would be something he used to help both of them learn some new skills.

He ponders what he should cover with her the next day as he watches her sleep on the arm on the couch. A headful of curls on top of a fuzzy blanket, her lips smushed out against the pillow she clutched in her arms.

"Mae." he says gently, leaning in close, a hand to her arm to rub her awake. She grunts and puffs out air between her pink and pouted lips but doesn't wake. The softness of her makes him smile, he enjoys it a moment without having to worry about making her uncomfortable. The long dark lashes spread out over freckled cheeks, her full brows set in a scowl. All curled up under the blanket she looked so small, and he supposes compared to him she is. Standing just a bit over five feet tall he supposes, her shorter frame gives her a stocky and soft appearance. With round hips that only slightly narrowed into thick thighs, he sees her small feet sticking out from the covers. Yellow nail polish to match that on her fingers on her toes. It wasn't only her body, her hair or her sweet face with it's round, button nose that was soft but her heart was as well. He could feel her power humming quietly, even it was still timid. His darkness wants it to burst, to flow out of her as it can do within him. It wants to soak up that innocence, that sweet softness that she's made of. His closes his eyes, his darkness rumbling, soaking up her delicate heat into its cold center, Alfie feels his limbs tingle, a prickling warmness that only she could give to him.

He exhales slowly, a hand soft to her hair, pushing it back. "Mae." he says, moving to give her nose a gentle tap.

"Mmph." she grunts, nose twitching as he eyes flutter open and meet his before she sits up to straighten her back, rubbing her eyes.

"Dinner's ready, love." he says, standing back up straight.

"'Kay." she mumbles, sitting in a daze as she wakes.

He beams at her, a smile she doesn't see. "Come on to the table when ya ready." he suggests, moving to go set their places.

She plops into a chair, the sleep slowly leaving her body as she watches him move around the kitchen, a towel over his shoulder as he cuts and plates her food.

"Now 'is I learned from an Italian, yeah? Found a wonderful little market when I when shoppin' today 'n got fresh cheese." he says proudly. "I went 'n did some of your shoppin' as well while I's out. Got more cleanin' supplies since I used most of 'em today. Got the bathroom and the kitchen. Dusted and vacuumed." he nods casually while trying to recall everything he did, wanting to let her know what he'd been up to, letting her know he was useful to her. "Already watered and fed all the babies." he chuckles. "Although I think a few in the greenhouse could use a personal touch. Wasn't about to try it meself. I'd just mess up all your hard work. So I figured we could start wif those tomorrow hmmm? Start simple with somefin ya like." He moves his eyes to hers and finds a puzzling look on her face. Her eyes give true meaning to the term puppy dog eyes. Her mouth is slack, partially open and her big hazel eyes are glimmering at him. Not tears yet, but the look in her eyes says lots of things. He feels that loneliness that resides in her throbbing stronger. He decides to switch the conversation. "I made the bread, eh? That flour you use is top notch, love." he tries giving her compliments but it doesn't seem to help. "Used some cherry tomatoes out of the greenhouse for the salad, hope ya don't mind. The muffins are ready as well, made 'em with blueberries I found at the grocery. Hope ya like those." he continues plating her food. He doesn't look at her face, not wanting to seem nosey as she was clearly going through something. But he sees big fat tears fall onto the table top and he can't stop himself. As soon as he makes eye contact, he sees her face much like a baby's, a trembling bottom lip, wet rosy cheeks rounded before her face contorted and she hid it in her hands. "Oh come now, little one." he says dropping the utensils and kneeling next to her. "What is it love?" he rubs her back gently in a circle, his palm tingled as he felt the chaos inside her. Mending her was going to be a very messy job.

"Why are you so nice to me?" she chokes out between sobs.

His chest aches, his face falling out of it's friendly and polite expression he'd held in place for her sake. "Oh Mae," he whispers, pulling her to his chest. "There, there." he shushes her. "Why would I not be nice to you? You've been nothing but nice to me." he explains. "You're my mate. Your well bein' is me own, I would only be hurtin' myself to not try to take care of you." He invades her privacy, shutting his eyes and trying to see what was causing all the trouble.

He feels the day she'd had. He sees a lifetime of abandonment and neglect. All the bullies growing up, all the hardships she was given to overcome from a young age. An absent father, a childhood spent in the system and an adult life of loneliness and rejection. Putting herself out there time and time again to be met by men who didn't care or understand. He didn't see the loneliness, he felt it. He felt her bed only ever being empty and cold, he feels her heart struggling to maintain it's one-sided giving when no one would replenish it. Her power touches him as he's washed in all this hurt she knows. The light shines within her. With his eyes shut he can see it, glowing like the sun on an overcast day, trying to break through the barrier of gloom that spread across it. He can feel it's tired, that it's just as lost as her. But he most importantly feels that it knows he's there, whether Mae knows or understands it herself. Her power knew better things were ahead for them and Alfie felt more certain he would protect and help this beautiful soul as long as he could.

"I just... No one's ever... I'm not used to it. It feels..."

"Like you don't deserve it." he finishes her thought, hearing it ring true in his own head for so long.

"Yeah," she says with a whimper, looking back up at him. "How did you?" she trails off, wiping her nose.

"Because I know it too." he nods, using his handkerchief to wipe at her face. "But it's not true. Don't listen to that voice. It's a liar." he says sternly. "You deserve the world, Mae. You are bright and full of love and good and the world needs that so very desperately. You deserve every bit of kindness that comes your way. Don't you dare think differently."

Her doe eyes blink up at him, never having heard something like that said to her before in all her almost thirty years. "I..." she begins, not knowing where to finish her thought.

"You just sit and think about that, yeah?" he gives her a nod. "Let's eat on the couch." he suggests. "We'll stop this cryin'. We'll go get cozy and we'll eat until we can't breathe and that'll make ya feel better. Watch somethin' ya like?"

She nods and swallows noisily.

"Good girl." he gives her back a pat before pulling away. "Now go get ya blankets and I'll grab the plates." he says with a self-assured tone.

She lowers her head, eyes on the ground as she gets them each a blanket. He gets everything else in order and they flip through Netflix together, large plates of food sitting on pillows in their laps.

"What do ya like, eh? Nature documentaries I bet." he suggests and she gives a small but enthusiastic nod as she sticks her fork into her lasagna.

They sit together, side by side, eating the towering plates of homemade food. Alfie talks over the narrators, sharing things he knew, but mostly making up his own narration in an attempt to make her smile. "Now 'is one ain't lookin' for a mate, he's lookin' for trouble. He thinks 'is one's been talkin' shit, yeah. By the looks of 'em I'd say he's right. Look at those little shifty beady eyes, ya can't get that look past me." he wags his finger at the TV and looks down to see her smiling after a tiny huff of a laugh escapes her. "There she is." he says proudly, giving her a nudge with his elbow. She looks up at him bashfully for a shared glance, before turning her face back to the tv with a tiny smile that told him she'd be just fine.

@jaegeeeeer @negansdirtygirl22 @brianaisasongbird @hardygal69 @emerald-bijou @captstefanbrandt @coolgh0st @tinastarkandco @stylishmileage

#Alfie Solomons #Peaky Blinders #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons angst #alfie solomons imagines #alfie solomons fan fiction #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x ofc #alfie solomons fluff #alfie solomons fanfiction #peaky blinders f #peaky blinders fic #alfie solomons au #alfie solomons magical au #tom hardy #modern alfie solomons au #alfie solomons modern au

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emzymakesbelieve · 6 years ago

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not to be fake deep but let's talk about all your old walt babies that you haven't mentioned (because i love the hainline's okay and you and all your kids and i miss you

Send me an old muse and I’ll gush about them.

oKAY SIT DOWN AND BUCKLE UP, KIDDOS.

(I love you, too, sweet pea. *smooch*)

Frank Hainline

So Frank is a prick, to start off, but he’s my prick and you’re not allowed to trash talk him without my say so (which of course you have because he’s A PRICK). He was the kind of kid who wore an anarchy symbol on his jacket but never actually did anything to represent or invoke anarchy. He’s also a gigantic slut and can’t keep his pants zipped for longer than ten minutes. Fidelity is not this man’s middle name (*CoUgH* illegitimate child he never knew about). He definitely wasn’t ready to become a father when Victoria got pregnant (and more or less trapped him into marriage), but by the time baby Penelope came, he devoted every ounce of energy he could to making sure she had a good life, and the two of them actually grew very close. He passed away from cancer when Penelope was about ten.

Norma Hainline

Penelope’s eldest. The two most important things you need to know about Norma are that she’s a dancer and she’s gay as a maypole. Her main focuses are tap and ballet. She loves old Hollywood - she got her start watching Singin’ in the Rain and Fred & Ginger films - but definitely prefers to live in the here and now where she can express herself both as an artist and as a lesbian. The dance world, much as she loves it, is a crusty old institution that needs to break some pointless rules and get over itself. She is also Grade A Mom Friend Extraordinaire™. Her love language is definitely acts of service, particularly making sure you’re eating and sleeping well and taking your medicine on time (though turns out she’s a terrible patient herself). Much to her frustration, her two closet friends - Noah and Nick - are both more or less bent on self destruction and driving her completely bonkers, but she loves them just the same.

Francis Hainline

Francis, the third eldest, has no business being in this family with how shy he is, but nevertheless. Definitely the black sheep of the family, but his siblings defend and support him with everything they have. (Well, Kath usually does it with a lot of sarcasm, but you can tell she loves him.) He’s a total hipster and has a special love for anything that was built before the year 2000. His prize possession is an old camcorder that uses real VHS tapes, so naturally he becomes a film student. I envision him growing up and working as a cinematographer and eventual director of poignant indie films and documentaries - stuff with lots of lingering, fly-on-the-wall shots. Also, special shoutout to Seraphina, the love of his got dang life. Those two gave me so many freaking cavities with their cuteness.

Kathleen Hainline

So Kath is a mess, but that’s just par for the course in this family, I suppose. She’s the baby of the family and has always felt like she’s living in her sister Norma’s shadow. She’s a bit of a wild child, but certainly not to the extent Victoria was. It’s all just a cry for attention, trust me. She wants to feel needed, she wants to feel wanted, she wants to feel special. And anything that takes the attention of the people she loves off of her needs to die, plain and simple. She’s best friends with Daisy and is technically endgame with Jonas (though we really didn’t get to write them that far), so here goes a prayer candle for my lovely Becca.

Dory Novak

As you can probably guess by the name, Dory is based on that delightful blue tang we know and love. In the Walt universe, she developed her short term memory loss after an accident that killed her parents, and was adopted by Marlin. She loves swimming and her family and especially anything combining the two. She’s a freaking sweetheart who is actually pretty hard on herself, and it was so heartbreaking to play her in any kind of stressful situation because five minutes later she would still be freaked out by have no idea as to why (looking at you, Scream event). Also, Scooby liked her a lot and I felt so freaking blessed??? She ends up becoming a social worker and helping kids in the foster system like her.

Charlie Harper & Jenny Harper née Parkington

I never got to properly play Dory’s parents, but here’s the fast and skinny on them. Jenny was a shy bookworm who never thought boys would be interested in her and (for the most part) had made peace with that theory. Charlie was a jock who was head over heels for Jenny but never knew how to communicate it without being a sleaze. Eventually, he manages to ask her out, she says yes, and they pretty much become attached at the hip. She comes to his basketball games and swim meets decked out in the school colors and cheering like a maniac. My guess is Dory came a little earlier than they were expecting, but not so early that it would be considered scandalous - probably when they were almost finished with college or something. Dory became their world and they spoiled that little girl beyond belief. Unfortunately, both of them were killed in a car wreck when Dory was very little.

Marlene Novak

Dory’s first kid, adopted. To sum it up nicely, Marlene’s a hot mess because she was never able to come to terms with the fact that her birth mother didn’t want her. I tried to start this whole plot where she ran into her birth mother just out in the wild and that made her get even messier, but I think I was just throwing crap on the fire to see what blew up at that point. She also has a…flirtatious arrangement, shall we say, with her friend Viv.

Lyle Novak

Dory’s second kid, also adopted. *sigh* Lyle, Lyle, Lyle… He’s a cutie, don’t get me wrong, but I feel like I didn’t give his character enough punch? He just seems kind of blah now that I look back at him. I have a history of being super self conscious about my male characters if they don’t have like a Super Archetype personality for some freaking reason, and Lyle is definitely an example of that. He’s a little shy, but not so shy that it’s endearing, and he’s also a little courageous, but not so courageous that he actually gets crap done. He’s a little complacent, looking back on him, which is kind of the opposite of how I wanted to play him...? I dunno. Maybe I’m being too harsh on myself. HE’S CUTE. LIFE GOES ON.

Cinderella Tremaine

To the surprise of absolutely no one, I’ve actually played a Cinderella counterpart in a few different groups, but let’s just talk about how I portrayed her at Walt. French transfer student in America (I changed her to straight up American after a point) who loves animals arguably more than life itself and tries her best not to cry over things she can’t control. She’s also daydreamy as FRICK. Loves to get lost in her own imagination. If she’s not engaged in conversation or work of some kind, I can guarantee you her conscience isn’t even on this plane. Also, can I just shriek about the superhero AU version of her where she was a counterpart to Zatanna and literally became her own fairy godmother? Because I think about that far more than is probably healthy.

Emmett Tremaine & Johanna Tremaine née Cartier

Same thing as Dory’s parents, just gonna give you a quick lowdown. Johanna came from a fairly well off family in France (distantly related to those guys, but far enough away that it doesn’t really count), but her parents thought she was an absolute embarrassment. She was never afraid to speak her mind when it came to things like etiquette and politics, and she had a fabulously wild imagination. She never stopped believing in fairies, ghosts, gremlins, things like that. Emmett was that quiet nerd dreamer type, very much obsessed with travel and history. And like I need to spell it out for you, but they were LUDICROUSLY in love with each other. Like, nauseatingly so.

Robby Tremaine

Robby is Cindy’s son I whipped up real quick one next gen when I was going crazy and wanted to snatch Nick Robinson’s beautiful face. He’s a hardcore farm boy who doesn’t mind a little mud behind his ears and super environmentally conscious. Not just recycling and veganism and all that, but he will go off on you about sustainable farming and animal raising, and how the hydrogen fuel cell is the way of the future.

Taige Bailey

Based on Terk from Tarzan, Taige is a super jock, total butch lesbian, and altogether DUMBNUT. Like, GOD she’s so stupid sometimes because she just barrels into crap with reckless abandon and doesn’t think things through. Dear God, she will PUNCH you if you so much as look at her funny, just ‘cause she feels bored. And she walks around like she’s God’s gift to creation, but she’s just a little twerp. But she’s my twerp. (Huh. I’m just now realizing how similar Taige and Pen are. In a weird way, Taige is like the tomboy version of Pen.) Here, you can imagine me lighting a prayer candle because I never got to play her against her two best friends and I’m SAD. Y’ALL NEVER GOT TO EXPERIENCE THE TOUR DE FORCE THAT IS T CUBED. Also *cough* she and Vitani may have had a *coUGH* flirtationship.

I would also put Taige’s parents on this list, but they’re so hardly even developed that it’s not really worth mentioning them. I only know their names: Lamarr and April.

Jared Bailey

Taige’s only child, Jared’s still trying to figure out what masculinity means to him, what with being raised by two women and all. He can get a little “dudebro alpha male” sometimes, but he’s also that kid you definitely want to have your back when things get rough. He’ll help you with your homework, teach you how to shoot a three-pointer, and walk you home when it’s dark like the gentleman he is.

#spidcypools #YOU SAID 'ALL' BY GOD #read mores are for wimps #have my children #[ q and a ]#[ muse: frank ]#[ muse: norma ]#[ muse: francis ]#[ muse: kathleen ]#[ muse: dory ]#[ muse: marlene ]#[ muse: lyle ]#[ muse: cinderella ]#[ muse: robby ]#[ muse: taige ]#[ muse: jared ]

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captain-krazy · 6 years ago

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Christmas in London - Chapter One AU!Tom Hiddleston Fan Fiction by Captain-Krazy Fluff 2566 Words ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A/N: There is no smut in this story. Summary: Tom and Jess are friends and Tom takes her to London for Christmas so she doesn’t spend it alone in her apartment, like she usually does. However, the more time they spend together they both realize they may actually have feelings for each other after all. But will either of them say anything to the other, or act on their feelings? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘Any plans for Christmas?’ Tom asked Jess as they sat on his sofa and watched a movie

‘Nah, just gonna hang around my apartment and binge watch those sappy greeting card channel movies. Maybe start looking for a new job’

'That sounds…. Fun?’

'Well, you know me…. I’m tons of fun!’ Jess replied as she popped a piece of popcorn in her mouth 'What about you, what are you doing?’

'Oh, I promised my parents I’d come home this year. I haven’t spent Christmas with them in a few years because I was traveling for work. My sister and brother and their families are all going to be there too’ Tom said with a smile on his face 'It’s the first time since my sister got married that the whole family will be together. Mum even got us all tickets to see the Nutcracker, it’s her favorite ballet’

'Wow…. Now that does sound like fun’ Jess said

'You should do something, go somewhere. You’re not working right now anyway’

'Yeah, it is, but I don’t have anywhere to go, no one to visit. Hence the sitting around my apartment’

'You could always go to a someplace warm and tropical. Lie on a beach, go swimming, meet a guy and have a holiday fling’ Tom suggested, wiggling his eyebrows on the last bit

'I’m not much of a ’tropical’ person and it wouldn’t feel like Christmas to me someplace like that. It would probably cost a small fortune to book a trip anyplace right now, and like you said, I’m not working right now’ Jess said with a sigh ‘Not to mention that I can’t even find anyone to have flings with here, what makes you think I’d find someone someplace else?’

Tom gave a half smile and then went back to watching the movie. Except for the occasional laugh, the two friends sat in silence for the rest of it. When it was over neither of them really wanted to get up so Tom put the TV on the channel Jess mentioned earlier. Some random movie about a girl getting stuck in an airport during a snowstorm while heading home for the holidays was on. When it was over Jess stretched her arms over her head before standing.

'I guess I should head home, it’s getting late’

‘Yeah, I guess it is’ Tom replied as he stood and walked toward the front door behind Jess.

After she had her coat and scarf on he gave her a hug and told her to drive safe, and let him know when she arrived home.

A little over a week later as she sat on her couch reading job postings online Jess received a text from Tom

*Hey…. Is your passport up to date?*

*I think so…. Why?* Jess replied, a little confused as to why Tom would be asking her that

*Go check and let me know*

*Why do you need to know?*

*Just humor me and check…. Please* Tom sent, along with the praying hands emoji

Jess let out a groan and wondered into her room to find her passport, once she did she saw that everything was up to date, and she didn’t need to renew for another 5 years.

*Yeah, it’s up to date…. Now why did you need to know?* she replied. A few minutes went by before she received a reply

*Because…. You are coming to London with me*

Jess reread the text a couple times to make sure she was actually reading what she thought she was, when it finally registered in her brain she hit the phone icon and dialed Tom’s number.

‘What do you mean I’m coming to London with you?’ Jess said as soon as Tom answered, not even giving him a chance to say hello ‘This better be a joke Hiddleston!!’

‘Um…. Hi…. And no, it’s not a joke. I just booked you a plane ticket’

‘What….. Wh- Tom, you CAN’T be serious! I can’t just drop everything and go to London with you!!!’

‘I’m 1000% serious, and yes you can! You’re not working, and you told me last week you had no plans for Christmas’

‘I have…. Plans’ Jess replied, a little sad at the fact that she really didn’t

‘Job searching and binge watching Christmas movies does not count as plans’

‘I… I can’t go, Tom. I could never afford a hotel on such short notice, they probably cost an arm and a leg this time of year! Not to mention paying you back for the plane ticket!!’

‘Okay, first; you do not have to pay me back for the ticket, I have a shit ton of miles from work, and its part of your Christmas present, you can pay back a Christmas present. And secondly; you don’t need a hotel because you’re staying at my parent’s house with me and the rest of my family’

‘Tom!! I can’t just show up at your parents’ house unannounced!’

‘You’re not showing up announced, I spoke to my Mum a couple days ago and they would love to have you’

‘But-‘

‘NO BUTS JESS! YOU’RE COMING WITH ME!’ Tom said forcefully, a tone in his voice Jess had never heard before ‘Pack a suitcase, the flight leaves Thursday at 3:30pm, I’ll pick you up at noon!’

And with that Tom ended the call. Jess sat down on her bed and stared at her phone for a few moments before laying back and staring up at the ceiling as she tried to process the fact that she was going to London in a few days. She let out a sigh as she rolled over and buried her face in a pillow. The next morning when she woke up it took her a moment to realize she had fallen asleep in her clothes. She reached for her phone and noticed it was almost dead, as she plugged it in she saw that Tom had sent her a text while she was asleep,

*It’s very cold in there, make sure to pack warm*

She rolled her eyes before standing and heading into the bathroom. After she was showered she went back to into her room to get dressed and figure out what to pack. She drug her suitcase out from under her bed an flung it on top, when she opened it she discovered that she still had stuff in it from her last trip, a couple pair of shoes, some jeans, some makeup, and the dress she wore to a friend’s wedding. She took the dress from the garment bag it was in and held it up to herself, running her hands over the soft deep blue fabric, she really did love the dress, it was one of the only times she actually felt pretty.

She debated for a moment about taking it with her, but in the end decided against it. She draped it over the chair in the corner as she started going through her closet and dresser, throwing what she was taking onto her bed. After a while she went into the bathroom and pulled out her travel toiletries and put them into a plastic bag. When she went back into her room she started folding her clothes and placing them nicely into the case, leaving her big winter coat out, still unsure as to whether she wanted to wear it to the airport, or just pack it and pull it out when she got to there, for now she just tossed it over to the chair in the corner of her room.

She still couldn’t believe this was happening, she was actually going to London, a place that she had always wanted to visit, especially at Christmas. Even though she was still upset at Tom for spending what she could only guess was a small fortune on a last minute plane ticket, she was also extremely excited. As she continued to pack her phone pinged, letting her know she had a text message, she decided to ignore it at first, but it pinged again a not even a minute later. When she grabbed her phone she saw that they were both from Tom, she also noticed there were a couple that she hadn’t seen. The first two had been sent when she was in the shower and the other two were the ones he just sent

*Want to grab lunch?* *Jess??* *Are you mad at me?* *I’m sorry I yelled on the phone last night*

*I’m not…. Mad* she sent in reply. Ever thought she was a tiny bit mad at him

*Are you sure? It usually never takes you that long to reply*

*I was in the shower when you sent the first 2 and then I started packing so I didn’t see them until now*

*Soooo, you’re really not mad I did this?*

*I am a little mad, but I’ll probably be over it by the time we leave…. lol*

*Great!! So food??*

*Yeah, food sounds good*

*On my way*

A couple days later it was time to leave for London, Jess was so excited she couldn’t sleep and when she finally did, she ended up sleeping through her alarm. When she woke up she was scrambling around, showering, getting dressed, and packing the last of her things. She decided not to wear her big coat since it wasn’t too cold and she just shoved it into her suitcase just as Tom sent her a text to let her know he was outside. Jess grabbed her suitcase and her purse, making sure she had her passport and headed out the door. As they drove Tom told Jess about a Christmas festival his Mom loved, and a few other events they could attend, less than an hour later they were at the airport waiting to go through security.

‘So, this Christmas festival you were talking about, what goes on at it?’ Jess asked as they settled into their seats for the long flight ahead

‘It’s a Christmas festival, Jess, what do you think goes on?’

‘I don’t know, I’ve never been to one. That’s why I was asking’

‘Well, I haven’t been to it in years, but as I recall there is a group of Carol singers in costume that walk around the grounds singing, there are booths selling wears, there’s a stand that sells hot cider and mulled wine, another that does roasted chestnuts’ Tom explained as the flight attendants started making their way down the aisles with refreshments ‘There’s a skating rink, and a pageant that the kids church choir puts on. My Mum said that they added a nightly light show year before last.’

‘That all sounds so fun’ Jess said with a huge smile on her face ‘Hey Tom, in case I haven’t yet, I just want to say thank you. I really, really do appreciate you bringing me with you’

‘You’re more than welcome, Jess’ he replied ‘Merry Christmas’

A few hours into the flight Jess fell asleep, she didn’t wake until Tom gently tapped her shoulder to let her know they were getting ready to land. When Jess was finally able to stand after landing her body was stiff and one of her feet was asleep, causing her to limp up the jet way, by the time they reached baggage claim her body had loosened up and her foot was awake.

‘Alright, they’ve really changed this airport since I was last here’ Tom said as he tried to figure out where to go to get a cab ‘Ah, its this way’ he said, pointing to where the sign hanging from the celling told him where the taxi stands were

‘TOM!!! TOM!!’ a man’s voice yelled through the terminal

Tom and Jess both turned and saw a man running in their direction, waving a hand over his head, Tom smiled and started walking toward him.

‘Owen!! Hey man, what are you doing here?’ Tom asked as he hugged the man

‘Mum asked me to pick you up’ he replied ‘It’s so good to see you! How’ve you been?’

‘I’m great! Oh, this is my friend Jess. Jess, this is my brother-in-law, Owen’

‘It’s nice to meet you Owen’ Jess said as she shook his hand

‘Come on, I’m parked this way. I promised everyone I’d have you home in time for tea’

As they made their way to the house Jess stared out the window with a smile on her face, amazed at how beautiful everything was. The trees and ground were covered in a light layer of snow, making everything sparkle. When they pulled into the neighborhood her smile got even bigger, every house had massive amounts of decorations, she couldn’t wait until it got dark and they were all lit up. The further they drove through the neighborhood the bigger the houses seemed to get, when Owen finally pulled into a driveway Jess’ jaw dropped even more, it had to be the biggest house on the block. Owen offered to help them with their luggage, but Tom and Jess both said they could handle it, so Owen headed in to let everyone know they were there

‘Tom…. this is your house? It’s HUGE!!!’ Jess said as they got out of the car ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were rich?!’

‘It’s my parents’ house, and I didn’t tell you I’m rich because I’m not’ Tom replied as he pulled their suitcases’ out of the trunk ‘My parents are’

‘That’s something that rich people say!’ Jess retorted as Tom closed the trunk, he let out a chuckle and they made their way into the house.

When they stepped inside Jess’ jaw dropped again as she looked around, there was a huge decorated fireplace the living room to her left, a staircase with lights and garland on the banister in front of her, to her right was a formal dining room with a huge table and more decorations everywhere.

‘Tom!!’ a woman said as she came out of the dining room, she had an apron around her waist, she walked over and threw her arms around him, giving him a tight hug ‘Welcome home darling!!’

‘Hi Mum, it’s so good to see you’ Tom replied as he hugged her back, after a few moments the hug broke and she took a step back and smiled up at him, she then looked over at Jess ‘And you must be Tom’s friend’

‘Yeah, Mum this is Jess. Jess, my Mum, Susan’

‘It’s really nice to meet you Mrs. Hiddleston, thank you so much for having me’ Jess replied as she held her hand out to Tom’s Mom, but Susan just wrapped her arms around Jess and hugged her tight

‘Oh, please, call me Susan’ she replied as she loosened the hug, but left her hands on Jess’ arms ‘and it’s a pleasure to have you here, dear’

‘Where is everyone?’ Tom asked

‘Your Father had to run into the city for a last minute meeting, he should be back soon, and everyone else is in the kitchen making cookies and getting tea ready’

Susan then motioned for everyone to follow as she headed back to help them, Tom wrapped his arm around his Moms shoulder and pulled her close as they rounded the corner and disappeared into the dining room. She smiled to herself and looked around as she followed them. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Next….

#Tom Hiddleston #AU!Tom #Fan Fiction #Christmas in London #Chapter One #Captain-Krazy #my writing

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