#OH forgot to mention one of the main differences in this au is that five like properly grew up this time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loneforestwolf · 9 months ago

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Heart and Soul (W.I.T.C.H AU)

So, this post will be VERY long one, dedicated to my personal w.i.t.c.h AU. I was thinking about it for so long that it could be it’s own original series. But i know i never going to write the whole story for this idea, and i started to loose interest in writing, and decided to share it somwhere, so that it won’t be wasted. Maybe i will inspire someone, who knows. Anyway if you don’t interested you can just ignore me, i’m doing this more for a self relief than sombody’s approval.

Everyone that stayed, get ready for a looooooooong ride...

So, where did it all started?

Well, right from the beginning. Let's imagine that the heart of Kandrakar was the real heart of a real dragon. You could say a dragon deity. This deity was killed by a huge stream of dark matter that separated their soul from their body, leaving both to drift in space. When the body break apart into tiny particles, the center of the universe formed around its heart, the well-known Kandrakar, where the main w.i.t.c.h. events take place.

But the dragon soul has also formed its own universe, alternative to this one, but without a clear center. The soul itself has taken the form of a crystal that moves from planet to planet, hoping to find a similar world from an alternate universe to reunite with the heart. Because of its shape and manner of appearance, the chosen ones, into whose hands the soul fell, began to call it the Crystal Star.

The dark matter that killed the dragon has not disappeared anywhere. It has become a barrier between the two universes, and prevents the direct movement of the Crystal into the Kandrakar universe. It also destroys the planets of the Soul Universe, on which its existence depends, so the crystal has to fly independently to those regions where it is most needed. Much later, the inhabitants of this universe will call this matter and its manifestations as Blight.

Ok, there’s the basic, what about the story?

The Star evetually falls in alternative world that is, those far, is closest to the W.I.T.C.H’s Earth. The only downside is that there is no one from the main five and their families. Except the Vandomes.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention. If there are worlds in the Kandrakar universe that are completely devoid of magic, in the Crystal Star universe each world has its own magical energy. So, all the inhabitants of each planet are endowed with certain magical abilities, but the control of the elements, such as the five main characters have, is extremely rare. The magic of this universe is aimed more at improving the physical characteristics of the user.

And so, on this particular Earth, people have learned to summon the so-called Soul Weapon. They are completely different, from firearms to crossbows, from daggers to massive clubs, it all depends on the predisposition and nature of the owner. Arcane art (elemental control) is also takes place, but is extremely difficult to master. Not only because the element is difficult to bend, but also because it is very difficult to study the arcane because of its rarity.

So, people that exists in both universes are these three - Susan Vandom, Tony Vandom and Dean Collins. All three of them are in the elite squad of Blight Fighters (I hope you haven't forgotten that all the planets of the Crystal Star are periodically raided by dark matter) along with two other squad members who aren't important enough to be named (they'll just get out of the game very quickly, if you know what I mean)

Tony uses a lightning arcane in battle (who would have thought), physically unable to summon a Soul Weapon because of this. He is very fast, control over the element allows him to strengthen his body, he can also electrify metal and fight with it (for example, a chain, when heated, will made a decent cutter)

Susan summons twin blades. She is also very fast, agile, and able to make important strategic decisions on the go. Always arguing with Tony who’s faster.

Dean is another special case. He also has magic, but not over the element, but healing arcane, which is why he has become almost indispensable on particularly dangerous missions

These three have been together since the Training Center, where future fighters against the black malevolent force are trained. They became almost inseparable until love came between them. At first it seemed that Tony had won this battle, but after a while Susan chose Dean instead of him.

However, this did not prevent Tony from sleeping with her at one of the corporate parties. But no one remembered or suspected anything about it when Susan got pregnant. Everyone just decided that the child was from Dean, and closed the topic on this.

Shortly before the birth of the child, Susan gets a Crystal Star, but she does not feel its influence. Just a presence, somewhere very close... A few months later, a girl is born, whom she calls Ellisabeth, and after some reflection it becomes clear who Crystal chose as it’s guardian. This manifested itself in a pale bluish-purple glow around the child, a kind of protection from the new patron.

A little while later, Susan began to go out on missions again, this time without her trusty partners, whose relationship was greatly shaken because of her. Only she and those two insignificant companions remain, one of whom is absorbed by Blight and kills Susan and the second partner.

Tony and Dean are grieving for her, and the first one is trying to take revenge, while the second gets depressed, but has to take care of his daughter, so tries not to get too drunk.

In pursuit of a converted ex-partner, Tony completely forgets that his body has limits, and excessive use of the Arcane can lead to irreversible consequences. He finds and kills the monster at last, but due to an overload of energy, his left arm got torn off. He was already ready to give up his life, as none other than Dean himself comes to save him.

They are both trying to move on, but the problems don't end there. One very dark night, the security poles placed throughout the city, which should signal the presence of blight, cease to function normally, and a flock of dark worms attacks the residential complex where Dean lives.

This attack raises a lot of noise, elite groups were called to fight blight, but it seemed that its source was inexhaustible, no matter how many fighters cut down dark matter, it continued to arrive. Tony also wanted to help, but he understood that with just one hand he would not be much of assistance, but he decided to come anyway. When he arrived, only ruins remained of the house, dark matter curled in the center in the shape of a dome. There's something there, inside, he knew it, he felt it. And someone who was inside this black matter also felt the presence of an old friend.

A lumen of green light appeared from the black clot. Tony could see Dean through it, holding the barrier with the last of his strength and a sobbing baby in his arms. Their eyes met, and Tony immediately realized what his friend was going to do. Gathering his last powers, Dean narrowed the barrier, and lunged forward, throwing the child wrapped in a green barrier in Tony’s direction. He immediately picks it up and runs towards the Training Complex, which is fenced with special protection that do not let Blight inside.

Almost all the black matter rushes after him, but he manages to reach the safe zone. Unfortunately, Dean spent too much energy to get out of this mess alive, and Tony is left all alone, a crippled man with a baby in his arm. He cannot take care of her, and therefore decides to leave the girl in the care of the orphanage of the Training Center. After all, a lot of children lose their parents because of their profession, and Ellie was no exception.

That was just a glimps of the past, are you still here? If yes, then deep down we go!

Ellisabeth, as the guardian of the crystal star, succeeded in everything early. She showed excellent results both in training and in theory, she grasped everything real quick. Due to the fact that she is the chosen one, she was treated very prejudiced.

No one wanted to play with her because they were afraid that the team she would be on would have an unfair advantage. Also, many were simply afraid to be near her, as they had heard about that attack. They believe that Ellie is drawing blight to her and are afraid that they will die the same way as many in that incident

Nevertheless, she finds her loyal friends among the orphans, with whom she will then form a team “Starlinked”. And we finally came to the protagonists from the side of the Crystal Star! Hooray! First of all, the leader:

Ellisabeth (Ellie) Vandom (Leader, Crystal Keeper, Spear)

A girl that looks similar to Will, but with long black hair and bright blue eyes (got more from mom for sure). She is also a little taller than Will, maybe half a head. (I will often compare them because they are sisters, even if from parallel universes) Born on July 4.

Her soul weapon was supposed to be paired blades, same ones that Susan had, but under the influence of the Crystal Star and her not-so-friendly environment it became a Spear. She has fast reflexes, crystal abilities can strengthen her teammates and herself. A very kind girl by nature, but because of the attitude in the orphanage she became quite withdrawn. If it weren't for her friends, she could have continued to hide from people, not wanting to harm them with her presence.

At first, she didn't care about living in an orphanage and learning to fight blight in a complex, but as she got older, she wanted to see the world and participate in real battles, not in magical simulations. But the teachers and the guardians were not ready to let her go, they were afraid that the case of seventeen years ago would happen again, and the girl would not be ready for this.

She still managed to escape from the protection, beyond the complex barriers, where the blight creatures were waiting for her, but she was not alone. Together with her friends, she was able to handle this attack and proved that she can stand up for herself.

And yet, our chosen one didn’t knew that blight has many forms. She fell in love with one of the students in the complex that was about to graduate. Ellie even tried to recrute him in her team by linking him to the star, but crystal’s response shoked her. It zapped her like there was an enemy in front of her, but the boy seemed pretty much normal, so she waved this sign aside.

The crystall was ringing alarm whenever this boy came in sight, and yet, blinded by love, Ellie ignored it as much as she could. Until one day the guy decided to meet her in outskirts of the city. He asked her to come alone because he wanted to tell her something important. I think there is no need to explain how it all ended. She was saved by her friends, who, in their worries, still followed her.

The infected by blight was very jealous of Ellie's power, that she was the chosen one and he was not, and this allowed blight to grow in his heart, although he had never even come close to dark matter creatures before. He almost killed Ellie that day, and was killed almost as soon as the team came to the rescue. This left a big scar on the girl, both mentally and physically (in the center of the chest)

Cooper (Defender, Club) and Rio (Stealthy, Double Kusarigama)

The two have been close since childhood. By an unfortunate coincidence, they also lost their parents together. They were told that they went on a mission and never returned, so, according to a pre-signed agreement, these two were transferred to the orphanage at the Training Complex.

Cooper is a rather bulky young man with wheat-colored hair, a bit yellowish skin, square-round facial features and green eyes like his aura. Born on May 5. Very kind and caring, ready to tear his last shirt for the sake of friends. He found out that his weapon is a club when several children from the orphanage bullied a little boy. Cooper swung his hand, and a handle immediately appeared in it, and a massive structure appeared at the other end, instantly scaring off the offenders.

Rio is an African-American boy with short curly hair. Since childhood he dreamed of becoming a ninja, and rejoiced for a long time when, during the next "rehearsal", he discovered his weapon. His aura is dark blue. Born on March 16. Has a pretty funny attitude. Always trying to be positive and spread it among friends. He jokes in a peculiar way (very often completely out of place)

Apart from the realization of the loss of their parents, they did not have such serious turning points in their lives as Ellie. They met while playing on the playground. Cooper noticed Ellie sitting on a bench to the side and decided to invite her to play ball with him and Rio. Everything was fine until a group of "especially smart kids" began to bully the boys about their choice to hang around next to the "cursed", for which they received a good beating and a couple of bruises.

They have always gone to the playground together since then, and then Adam and Amy joined along.

Adam (Daredevil, Combat Gloves) and Amy (Sharpshooter, Rifle)

These two are twins, born on April 20. Both have dark brown hair and silver-gray eyes. This particular color harmonizes quite well with their auras, so when they use their abilities, in the heat of battle, Adam's eyes turn fiery red, just a couple of shades lighter than his red aura, and Amy's eyes acquire a yellowish tint due to her orange aura.

A younger hot-tempered brother with a righteous heart who constantly finds trouble on his head, and a reasonable, calm older sister who constantly pulls him out of these troubles. There's really nothing more to say about them here. Adam got his "weapon" pretty early when he was beating up another bully at the orphanage. Amy received her rifle much later, although even before that she could create small projectiles in the air and launch them from a hastily assembled slingshot.

They met Ellie when she, Cooper and Rio were being bullied by a small group of children who wanted to be the main ones among their own. In the heat of battle, the twins sided with the chosen one, and since then they have always been happy to spend time together.

Oh and they were punished for this commotion. Being supported by the Crystal Star, they managed to inflict significant injuries on the aggressive side, for which the whole five were bound to clean the rooms within a week (Adam: But it was clearly worth it!)

Okay, and last but not least:

Tony Vandom (Teacher, Mentor, Arcane Energy)

This man has been through a lot of shit... After losing his left arm, he lost his job and main source of income (yes, in this universe, heroes are paid to save worlds). After losing his best friend, he had completely lost himself. For a long time he was engaged in smuggling and other illegal activities, just so he could spend the money on gambling and booze... In the end, he ended up behind bars because of this, but received a pardon, as the director of the Training Center vouched for him, on the condition that he would teach for a new generation as an experienced fighter against Blight.

And so, after a while, he met a girl, whom he once handed into the hands of a maid. He began to observe her, her successes, and how she got a foster family in the form of her friends. Tony tried in every possible way to secretly help this small group of brave children, and as a result, years later, he became their personal mentor.

Despite the lack of a hand, Tony was still an experienced fighter against black matter, and could tell the children the necessary strategies to deal with different types of monsters. Also, he is the one who contacts them from the command center and gives instructions when the five are on official assignments.

He was incredibly scared when he found out what happened to Ellie after the betrayal. It was then, thanks to tests from the hospital, that was revealed that he was a real father to Ellie, but he decided to keep it a secret for now. After all, Ellie didn't question who her parents were... Yet... It was Tony's Arcane Energy that helped Ellie get back on her feet faster, as he gave some of his energy to the Crystal Star to heal the girl's wound. Other friends helped too, but the energy of the soul is not as dense as pure energy itself.

And so, here we are... What now?

Just like in the main series (you haven't forgotten that it's all an AU of W.I.T.C.H., have you?) there was a big turnaround. And no, the betrayal of Ellie's beloved wasn't it. Just like W.I.T.C.H., Starlinked did what all heroes do - they were saving worlds from the invasion of Blight creatures. It would seem that they cannot have a single main villain vatsoever, as it was in W.I.T.C.H. (Phobos, Nerissa, Cedric and others). But they had one. Something standing at the head of Blight on one of the relatively peaceful planets. They spent a lot more time fighting it than they should have.

The Blight Fighters have a headquarters from which they receive orders. Connected not only with their planet, but also with others. Another detail is that since all worlds are more or less magical, they are fully aware of the existence of other worlds, thereby maintaining communication among themselves. In this universe, there are full-fledged paths between worlds that can be accessed through the appropriate portal.

Of course, Starlinked wasn't the only team fighting black matter. They were just the most effective (because of the blessing of the Crystal Star) And so it was decided to send them on this mission. During the battle, communication with the squad was cut off, and the portal was destroyed. The team was left alone with the henchmen of Blight and their mighty leader.

And of course, everything worked out (I would not be crucified now if it were the other way around) and the team got several new abilities in its arsenal. One of these is teleportation - Ellie is able to communicate with starways by the power of a Star and get into any world that needs their help, as well as to her home planet (that's how they returned home) This battle hit the dark forces hard, as a result of which the black curtain got a few holes in it, opening the way to an alternate universe...

Soul and Heart Reunite

A little energy from the universe of the soul began to penetrate into another universe, colliding and connecting with other worlds. The energy of Kandrakar also began to seep into these holes and connect with the worlds of the Soul universe in the same way. Council notices this and starts an investigation. Everything leads to the fact that the "limits of the universe" turn out to be not limits at all, but dark matter, from which, for some reason, the universe of Kandrakar did not suffer at all (matter was determined to destroy the soul of the creature first, since subconsciously it considered it more vulnerable than the universe of the Heart) But now that the Blight began to dissipate, the worlds nearby it were in danger, as matter followed the seeping Soul energy to alternative worlds. So the guards are needed again. The Oracle calls the girls to him with a request to check the distant dimensions to make sure that they are not in danger. He also warns them that they may encounter an enemy of unprecedented strength, so he advises them to be very careful.

On the other side, a report suddenly arrives about a new world that wasn't on the map before. The scouts found it very strange that this planet is far enough away from all the others, and do not know what might be lurking there, so they ask an elite squad of Fighters to investigate it. Ellie and her squad are very excited about this news, while Tony suspects something is wrong. The scouts reported that they did not find any signs of Blight's presence on the planet, but the same thing happened on the planet where the team fought last time, against an enemy comparable to God in strength, so he decides to go with them, if not to help in battle, so to help with advice if communication breaks down again.

Everything leads to the fact that the two teams are meeting. They exchange puzzled glances, especially Will, who, in fact, met her father on a God-forsaken planet, the devil knows how far from their center of the galaxy. And something strange is happening. The Crystal Star and the Heart of Kandrakar fly out towards each other. They combine into one whole, as happened with the Heart and Seal of Phobos, but this time they form a single artifact. There is a flash of light, which draws both teams and Tony into it. After that, there is only an empty place on this planet.

What the hell just happened?

After the union of the soul and heart, their energies began to quickly connect with each other, combining similar worlds from their universes into one whole. The two universes need to unite, and for this you need to shake the remaining matter, which will go into their orbit, and hopefully stay there. The process of reuniting the universes should take a lot of time, just as the guardians of the Heart are clearly not ready to protect the worlds from dark matter - simple possession of the elements will clearly not be enough. So the two artifacts decided that it would be a good idea to throw teenagers and one (not quite stable) adult teacher on a rather dangerous planet, so that they could learn everything there by trial and error. How ironic.

Is Tony unstable? Yes, because there should be only one Tony in this universe. So the heart and soul just combined the two Tonys into one. It gave him back the missing hand, but it also gave him memories from his other life, where he had everything Tony (from the universe of the soul) wanted, but missed it out of his own stupidity/ignorance. So yes, the heroes and their bipolar teacher embark on a survival adventure stuck on a cursed planet.

"But why are they stuck?" You will ask. "Will can open a portal, and Ellie has this teleportation thing." But it just doesn't work anymore. The girls could open portals to the world of Kandrakar and to any one they had ever been to. But they still had to fly to the citadel first to figure out where to open a portal to a new world for them. Elizabeth has a slightly different, but similar story. Their universe has no center, but most worlds are connected by a portal network, and by connecting to this network with the energy of a Crystal Star, she can teleport herself and a small group of people where she and the Star have been.

But. Since the universe is now in utter chaos at the reunion, all this information contained in the artifacts is simply no longer relevant. The portal system in shambles, the council of Kandrakar is trying to minimize possible damage, and because of the two raging energies, they are not able to figure out where their guardians may be, not to mention the fact that they have to eliminate various paradoxes arising from the merging of worlds.

And that's how it ends...

Not because I just haven't thought through the further outcome of events, but simply because it varies very much from this point. As a result, the teams either split into two people (one fairy and one fighter) and travel to find the others. Either everyone stays together, but they are separated by some force or event, after which they need to overcome difficulties to reunite. They start randomly jumping around different worlds in search of their own, using the combined power of both artifacts.

The Heart and Soul were supposed to become one artifact, but after the reunion they separated again, since their keepers still needed them. This led to an involuntary fusion of the souls of Ellie and Will, as a result of which they began to read each other's thoughts and feel what the other feels. Also much later, when Tony has more or less come to his senses, he tells them that they are basically sisters.

In fact, this is what I was looking for. Pure sisterly friendship, adventures, experiences. All this mess was created just so that Will would have a sister with her own powers. Although it would be easier to just make Ellie exist initially, and make the Crystal Star an ordinary artifact from some forgotten planet, which Will took for an ordinary accessory and decided to bring home to herself.

But no, we have what we have, in addition with the team and a new way to use elemental magic. I always thought that a w.i.t.c.h should learn to use their powers more creatively, like in ATLA, otherwise sooner or later there will be an enemy who will not be enough to just pour a large volume of water on or demolish with a stream of air.

So... Now there are a lot of things that can be thought up for a story. I've been running a big series in my mind with different situations for a long time. However, I can't draw, and I don't have the energy or time to write a book out of it. I leave it to the fans to be torn apart, you can give criticism, I don't mind.

I apologize again for this outline of the text, if you really finished reading, leave "S&H unite" in the comments

#It took a very long time to write this #but i feel better now.#w.i.t.c.h.#w.i.t.c.h. au #A large long-lasting one... At the age of five or more my God #LOTS. OF. TEXT #S&H AU

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raineydaywrites · 1 year ago

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20 Questions for fic writers

Tagged by @barry-j-blupjeans (thank you!!!)

tagging @sgrumby and anyone who wants to play!!

1. How many works do you have on A03?

132

2. What's your total A03 word count?

568,150! half a million!!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mainly TAZ Balance and Star Wars (Prequels/TCW era, mostly), but I've written a fair amount for Star Trek: Deep Space Nine in the past, and I'll sometimes write a fic here or there for other fandoms.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

They're all Star Wars fics, which makes sense but makes me kind of sad because I love my other fics too. But oh well:

still much that is fair.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, The Jedi Code, and Other Things That Anakin Has Misunderstood

Take Two

brothers don't let each other wander in the dark alone

growing season (absolutely BLEW MY MIND that this one is in my top five now. It's a one-shot kidfic for a pairing I don't write often?? I'm not used to those getting notes. But I guess it is the Codywan era for prequels fans so I can see where it's coming from.)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! But sometimes I don't have the spoons for it. But I love getting comments and want to show my appreciation!

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't usually write super angsty endings! I don't like them. Or, well, actually I do enjoy them sometimes, but IDK, if I'm writing a whole-ass fic, I usually want to make the ending happy!

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending

still much that is fair! which is wild because it has one of the angstiest premises I've ever written (suicide attempt that all loved ones believed to be successful, ends with characters giving each other hugs and 'love yous' and closure)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Rarely. Every once in a while. Sometimes people don't like me writing autistic headcanons or characters mentioning pronouns.

9. Do you write smut?

No. I'm not opposed to it in fic, but it doesn't interest me.

10. Do you write crossovers?

No, but I'll read them sometimes. I'm not opposed to writing them, but I've never really gotten an idea for one that inspires me.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of! I did once have someone warn me that my fic was 're-posted' to ao3 back in the days when I was still posting on both ffnet and ao3 with different usernames.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, actually, though I forgot about it until asked! It's not one I ever posted. I co-wrote a Maximum Ride fic with a friend in middle school, lol. But I'd love to co-write again in the future! It's fun to talk about ideas with friends.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

All-time favorite ship is SO hard for me because I'm a multishipper and I flipflop fandoms a lot, so I kind of default to my first (and still beloved) ship: Janeway/Chakotay from Star Trek: Voyager. I'm also gonna answer for my two main fandoms atm: Star Wars is Obi-Wan/Satine and TAZ Balance is Barry Bluejeans/Lup/Lucretia, because I love a good polycule. Also Barry and Lup on their own are great but they remind me too much of my parents to really go wild over them.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Be My Brother's Keeper. A Darcy Lewis is Tony Stark's daughter AU. I love that one and I had PLANS for it, but my Marvel days are so long gone.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I'm good at coming up with creative, unique ideas and making them work!! People often say that they didn't expect to like my fics from the premise but enjoyed them anyway. :3 I'm also good at character interactions and emotions

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Describing things, mainly visual things that are happening. They're just there, in the fanfic, not in a physical location to me. Also staying motivated to finish writing and avoiding derailing my own ideas with wanting to include EVERYTHING.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I haven't done it before but I'm not opposed!

19. fandom you wrote for?

Like, first fandom? Nancy Drew. I wrote a Nancy Drew fanfic when I was eight years old on looseleaf notebook paper, before I knew that anyone else wrote fanfic. In it, Nancy fell down a hole, broke her leg, everyone who loved her thought she was dead and they were all soso sad, but then they found her and it ended happily. My tastes have not evolved much since, but my writing ability has!

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Changes often! Currently it is The Parent Trap(ped in an Umbrella) but I'm also quite fond of Still Much That Is Fair and one more last try, I'm gonna get the ending right.

#reblog game

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meowstix · 2 years ago

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alright so as i mentioned i was listening to some warrior cats videos (specifically moonkitti) and that kinda got me just like, thinking about things. and this one thing i mostly just thought about bc well, of course as i'm warrior cats-ifying kai i'm thinking about "hey what would a bsb warrior cats au be like" and this kind of came up in my brain somehow. and i mean i guess this might be a kind of obvious statement i wouldn't know since i have like half the fandom blocked but. actually i don't know how to start this so i'm just gonna jump right into it.

kai and max have one very specific thing in common and it's that they were, as one might put it, nepotism hires, and their not-bba teammates hate them for it. the weird thing here is that neither of these cases are ever actually resolved, the ppb team's distaste for max just kind of Goes Away at some point, and neo-borg as a team has the singular defining trait of being edgy in place of any kind of arc or story.

i'm starting off with max because he's the one i thought about first, and honestly the thing with him is kinda like. after the ppb team seemed to be on decent terms with the main gang by the end of the first season it's definitely like "oh okay so that didn't apply to max apparently", though i think it's pretty safe to say that rick Also being there played a part in it. overall the ppb in g-rev is kind of odd honestly, like i just kind of wonder if something happened during their inexplicable (atleast in-universe) absence during v-force seeing as how one of their members is out due to a broken leg and two other members look completely different. i kind of forgot where i was going here ngl which is why this post is only partially about them, just know i was thinking about this because of the warrior cats au and well. getting mad that a pair of Outsiders TM got a position and you didn't is an extremely warrior cats thing to do. i saw a post the other day about various football-themed names being valid do you think steve would have one of those. next paragraph

anyway would you look at that! the day i finally talk about the fandom-beloved white boys as a whole! speaking of that i'm just gonna start this by saying that like. i swear to god the whole dynamic the fandom gives them was bought from a five below. and that's all i'm saying on their dynamics with anyone besides kai.

moving onto the actual reason i'm talking about neo-borg, i really like, cannot stress enough that kai is Not friends with them or even close. in an ideal world he would have some kind of comradery with yuriy but we do not live in an ideal world, or else people would talk about characters other than neo-borg. we actually get a pretty good idea of the dynamic in s1, and aside from not having someone ordering them around it's basically the same in g-rev. the dynamic in question is that there is a noticeable rift between kai and the others, who only really tolerate him because they have to. kai, meanwhile, doesn't actively dislike them but also doesn't care to try to make things better. i could go on a LOT about what the dynamic could have been, and infact i actually have before so go read that post.

i don't have a conclusion for this. 100% willing to elaborate on the warrior cats au btw

#girls will have trouble reading large blocks of text and then write large blocks of text. sorry #rat chat #beyblade #bakuten shoot beyblade #neo-borg #yuriy ivanov #kai hiwatari #<- i actually talked about them so of course i'm tagging this as them. Look At My Post Boy

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thewaynemanner · 5 years ago

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Wholesome BatFamily Fic Rec’s

Hey All, so here is my BatFam Rec List you all have been asking for! Lol jk no one has asked for this, but I made it anyways! So here are my All-Time Favorite BatFamily Fic Recs, for the most part these Recs are all rated either “G” for General Audiences or “T” for Teen and Up Audiences. So basically, all these fics focus on family dynamics and relationships rather than slash or anything like that. These are all truly amazing fics so give your Kudos and love to the authors! And remember to always read the tags before you read the fic!

And So This is Christmas by DragOnstOrm

Summary: It's not that Alfred isn't happy with his job. It's just that sometimes he really wishes that he had known what he was getting into when he signed up for it.

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 1,901

My Comments: Folks, stories don’t get much more wholesome than this fic. After reading this fic I was left warm and happy. Also, it stars my boy, Alfie, which is usually extremely rare for fics. Loved that we got to see Alfred’s perspective in this! Great fic!

Bedside Manner by @fishfingersandjellybabies

Summary: Sometimes Bruce forgot just how great his kid was.

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 2,985

My Comments: Anything @fishfingersandjellybabies writes is truly fantastic, but I particularly loved this one since it delved into the sweeter side of Bruce and Damian’s relationship that we don’t get to see often (especially in cannon). I love me a good hurt/comfort fic 😉

Bet on it by @lysical

Summary: Even Damian could admit that his older siblings occasionally had their uses.

"I need your assistance," Damian said, voice low and tense.

"No," Jason replied, and hung up.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 2,495

My Comments: Lysical writes some of the best BatBrother Fics out there, folks. So if you want some wholesome and hilarious Bat sibling bonding, then look no further! Bet on it, is one of my personal favorites of Lysical’s. Great writing and great characterization!

Blood in the Water by MishaBerry

Summary: We all do stupid things when we are lonely, and in faraway lands, we hardly expect the consequences to follow us. Bruce certainly never thought twice about an American woman in Jaipur after one night with her. He hardly expected to see her ever again.

The universe, on the other hand, had different ideas, and the tides of time and chance brought Tim Drake to Bruce's life over and over again.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 181,939

My Comments: FANTASTIC AU! One of my favorite Tim Drake centric fics, but still has plenty of the rest of the BatFamily. I also love that we get to see Tim as his sweet six-year self. This story has it all, great characterizations, good plot, angst, fluff, and BatFamily bonding 😊

Cracked Foundation by @cdelphiki

Summary: The last thing Damian expected to happen when he ran away from home was to spend a day crammed into a small space with Jason Todd. His father's second son was a black sheep. An outcast. An angry, insanity driven criminal who enjoyed screwing with the batfamily in every way he could. At least, that's what Damian thought. Maybe he was wrong about Todd.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 20,902

My Comments: This is a brilliant fic that examines the relationship between Damian and Jason. I absolutely loved this fic and never wanted it to end. I truly wish there were more Jason and Damian Fics out there, I think it’s a character duo that isn’t explored nearly enough. If you love Damian and Jason brother bonding fics, you’ll love this one and if you’ve never read a bonding fic between these two brothers, you may just find a new love!

Five Times Jason Todd Saved His Brothers, and One Time They Saved Him by laceymcbain, reena_jenkins

Summary: “Did you know I was in here, or did you just blow up the place for fun?”

Damian didn't need to see Todd's face to know he was grinning under the helmet.

“It's not really a rescue unless something blows up. But if Bats asks, it was completely necessary."

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 6,923

My Comments: This fic is BatFamily feels to the extreme. Jason Todd deserves love and this fic gives it to him. LOVED IT <3 <3 <3

Fly By Night by @lysical

Summary: Damian is thirteen. Sometimes he even acts like it.

"This is an injustice," were the last words Damian had spoken to his father all day.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 2,889

My Comments: Another great Fic by @Lysical! This is just a plain ol’ fun Fic, y’all. Great Bat Brother love in this one and it also features my sweet summer child- Jonathan Samuel Kent. Trust me you will love this Fic, it is hilarious and all around good stuff 😊

A Good Place by @lemonadegarden

Summary: Damian Wayne is kidnapped and sent back years through time. Together, he and Father – who's only been Batman for a mere six months –must figure out how to return him to his own time.

Over the course of the next week, Damian discovers that Mexican gangsters do not mess around, that social workers find Bruce annoying, that Bruce might be a little messed up, and that crystal chandeliers create the fondest memories.

Oh. And Alfred has hair.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 36,903

My Comments: LemonadeGarden is one of my All-Time favorite authors, so anything written by them is brilliant. But A Good Place will always be a favorite of mine, it is by far my favorite Damian & Bruce centric Fic out there and is something I have read over and over again. I love getting to see a younger Bruce interact with Damian and in turn, Damian interact with him. It’s overall great and has a fantastic plot!

Let There Be a Bruise by @audreycritter

Summary: Damian is a child who should not have the scars he does; Bruce is a father who has plenty of his own scars, but still wishes he could take his son’s, too.

The silver lining is where they find each other— a broken son and a broken father, putting each other back together.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 3,656

My Comments: Audreycritter is the master of Damián & Bruce Hurt/Comfort fics. I honestly would recommend all of Audrey’s fics, so check them all out! But this one will always be a favorite 😊

Life Happens by @cdelphiki

Summary: While walking home from an event at Wayne Enterprises, Tim and Damian are kidnapped and sent to an alternate dimension. In a world where superheroes are merely comic book characters and the idea of the multiverse is only a theory found within the pages of science fiction, how are Tim and Damian going to return home? How long will they be stranded on this strange Earth? And will the boys murder each other before they figure it out?

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 176,966

My Comments: Hoo-boy, folks. I don’t even know where to start with this Fic. I honestly get teary-eyed thinking about how beautiful it is and how much I loved this one. My favorite Tim Drake and Damian Wayne brotherly bonding Fic EVER. I would almost describe this Fic as a love letter to the characters Tim and Damian, in the sense that the author captures their characterizations beautifully and tells one of the best stories of growth and familial love I have ever read. It’s fluffy, angsty, humorous, and full of BatFamily feels. And don’t worry, there is plenty of Dick, Jason, and Bruce as well (If not a little later in the story). I would run to this Fic, if I were you.

Life, if Well Lived by CaptainOzone

Summary: Jason wakes up from a time-travel mishap to find Thomas and Martha Wayne hovering over him.

Just another day in the life, right?

...Not quite.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 10,758

My Comments: A Fic that destroyed me in the BEST way possible. Tears, so many tears were shed during this fic. The best Hurt/Comfort fic I have ever read. Extremely unique in the sense that Martha and Thomas Wayne are two of the main characters and boy did I love it! I can not stress how AMAZING this Fic is. I never knew I needed this fic in my life until I read it. I wish I could re-read it for the first time all over again. LOVE, LOVE, LOVE IT!

My Brother’s Keeper by Forever_A_Thief

Summary: The boy had two options, two roads stretching out before him: stay with Mother, and become the greatest assassin ever known to man, or go to Father, and become a masked vigilante fighting for justice in a city drenched in darkness. Damian looked at these two roads, these two lives he could lead, and decided on a third path for himself instead. He chose his own road.

Jason never let himself think about the kid he had left behind at the desert compound all those years ago. When Talia never got in touch with him after his return to Gotham, Jason had assumed he had just been forgotten like he had been in Gotham. But then that kid, his little brother, showed up one night and Jason couldn’t just continue to push him to the back of his mind. Not anymore.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 43,907

My Comments: Did I mention I love Jason & Damian fics? Well I do and this one is beyond FANTASTIC. Overall great Bat-Bros fic that I would recommend over and over again. This fic is Damian and Jason centric but it does involve the rest of the Bat Family too. I love seeing all the brother’s bonding in this fic and the overall family feels 😊

Of Owls and Assassins by Cirth

Summary: "Dick," Bruce says, not entirely sure how to react, "who is that?"

Dick blinks at him from his place on the workout mat. There's a broken plate with mac and cheese strewn all over next to him, as well as what seems to be Bruce's old G.I. Joe action figure from the attic. It looks like a child's imagining of a murder scene. "My owlet," Dick states.

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 853

My Comments: The adorableness of this Fic is off the charts. I love AU’s where Dick is a Talon, but this one will always hold a very special place in my heart since Dick is just so pure in it. Forever a favorite <3

Party Games by @lemonadegarden

Summary: I can't believe you got into a bar fight at two in the morning. And now you're all in prison. The night before your wedding. What the fuck kind of a family am I marrying into?” Selina said.

Bruce Wayne goes to a series of bachelor parties, each one worse than the last. Set in the same timeline as We, So Much Older, but can be read as a standalone fic as well.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 12,659

My Comments: Okay, so technically this is a Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne Fic and even though the plot premise revolves around their upcoming wedding, I wouldn’t really consider this a “slash” fic. There is definitely more BatFamily vibes with this fic. It’s hilarious, fun, and oh so wholesome! I love this fic beyond measure and even if you aren’t a fan of the BatCat ship, I highly suggest you give it a shot for the amazing BatFam moments.

Second Chance by @cdelphiki

Summary: When Talia al Ghul watched her toddling son start his training, his awful, grueling training, she had an epiphany:

The League of Assassins was no place for children.

(Or: Talia realizes training literal babies is abuse and gets him out of there.)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 6,461

My Comments: This is the Talia al Ghul we deserve! This is the Talia al Ghul, Bruce Wayne deserves! THIS IS THE TALIA AL GHUL, DAMIAN WAYBE DESERVES! Loved this fic, great Talia al Ghul characterization. It’s the Talia that could have ben before DC slaughtered her character.

Running Headlong into My Arms by gleesquid

Summary: Bruce doesn’t like to credit one thing for saving his life, but if he did, it would be Haly’s Circus that Friday night in September, just as summer was beginning to die.

(He'll always be a sucker for kids with sad eyes, no parents, and more fight than the world knows what to do with.)

Or: in a universe where superheroes don't exist, Bruce Wayne finds his family.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 54,231

My Comments: I feel like this fic is a right of passage into the BatFamily fandom, so if by some chance you haven’t already read it, I highly suggest you move this straight to the top of your reading list. It’s a classic and has everything you could ever want in a BatFam Fic.

we are not alone in the dark by @audreycritter

Summary: Damian has a flashback on a family camping trip.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 2,218

My Comments: A BatFam camping trip, need I say more? One of my favorite hurt/comfort fics involving Damian. We get to see some super sweet moments between Bruce and Damian, and Damian and Jason. Loved it.

Where You Go, I Follow by @fishfingersandjellybabies

Summary: In some world, Dick Grayson was never revived by Lex Luthor, and was probably better for it.

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 1,427

My Comments: BROKE MY HEART, but in the best possible way. I cried both sad tears and happy tears for this fic. LOVED IT! I have read it at least six times (I’m going read it again after I post this rec). A fantastic Dick & Damian story. I also love the title; it captures the mood perfectly. I’m always a sucker for fics that are inspired by songs, this one was inspired by ‘I Will Follow You’ by Toulouse!

Video message incoming by helenabertinellis

Summary: The League are just wrapping up their meeting when a call comes through the Watchtower servers.

It's for Batman.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 1,228

My Comments: I consider this a classic BatFam fic, so I will be shocked if you haven’t read it, but on the off chance that you have not read it, GO READ IT NOW. It’s humorous and all so wholesome 😊

Yesterday’s Voices by @lemonadegarden

Summary: While trying to take down a drug cartel that deals with memory altering drugs, things go awry, and Batman wakes up with no recollection of the last five years.

As a result, his family must now race against time to find the antidote, while also having to deal with a Bruce who still thinks Jason is Robin. A Bruce who doesn't recognise most of them. A Bruce far less jaded and cynical than the one they're used to. A Bruce who still cares.

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 49,000

My Comments: Surprise, surprise another amazing fic by LemonadeGarden. I will be shocked if you haven’t read this fic yet, but on the off chance that you haven’t, I am telling you now, to RUN to this fic. It will forever and always be my MOST FAVORITE BATFAMILY fic out there. I honestly wish this fic never had ended, it’s one that will always hold a special spot in my heart. THIS IS THE BRUCE WAYNE WE DESERVE.

For More Fic Recs Check-Out:

BatFamily Fic Recs part 2

BatFamily Fic Recs Part 3

BatFamily Fic Recs Part 4

BatFamily Fic Recs Part 5

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twinkleallnight · 4 years ago

Text

A Twisted Tale

Chapter 3

Book: The Royal Romance AU

Word count: 2162

Characters: Liam, Drake, Riley, Olivia.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to pixelberry.

Rating: Mature

Warning: None

A/N: We are participating in @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt: "Main attraction".

Catch up here

An AU of The Royal Romance paving it’s way through mixed emotions of wants, needs and desires, of revenge and regrets, of trust, faith and hope.

A joint venture brought to you with love by @annekebbphotography and @twinkleallnight .

Riley's POV

I look out of the window of this massive room that they say will be mine. Liam has been extremely sweet the whole time and I can’t help but swoon a little. I can see why they say he is the most eligible bachelor King. I don’t care that he is the king. To me, he’s just someone I find attractive and interesting. I want to get to know him, and I will see as I will be working with him.

Now, I don’t know what is going on with Liam and the duchess, but she looked pissed seeing me here. If they have something going on, I won’t get in the way. But if Liam is single, then I am definitely going to try and get to know him on a more personal level.

I start packing my things away still thinking about Liam and how he was so kind and sweet on the plane. And then when we got here, it was as if he couldn’t wait to get rid of me. Guess only time will tell, what is going on.

I start exploring my place.

It has a lounge, bedroom and a bathroom. What more could I need? I’m busy putting my things in my bathroom, when there’s a knock on my door. My heart does a little flip hoping that it’s Liam.

I walk over to the door and open it to find a damn good-looking guy on the other side. I wonder if all the guys around here look like some kind of Greek god.

“Are you done?” He raises his brow at me and I can feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment of being caught staring.

“Sorry, can I help you?” I look down trying to hide my blush.

“You are Riley, right?”

“Last time I checked. And you are?” I bite my bottom lip as I look back at him.

“Drake Walker.” He moves his fingers through his smooth chestnut hair. “Liam wanted me to check if you needed something.”

“Mmmmm, there’s a lot that I need Mr. Walker.” I turn and walk into my room. I look over my shoulder waiting for him to follow me. “Well are you coming in or are you going to be the door?”

He smirks at my comment and steps in. His eyes survey the room. “Have you made a list?”

“A list for what?” I stare at him and he keeps on looking around the room.

“Shopping. A shopping list... list of things you wanna buy.” His eyes focus back to me and when he looks at my puzzled expressions he speaks, “Oh, I forgot to mention. Liam wants me to take you shopping for things you need, like… Like.. office wear and stuff like that. The girlie stuff.”

I burst out laughing as he tries to find the right words, but my laughter dies down immediately when I see his stare. “Sorry...You looked really cute just now.”

“I have heard handsome. But cute?” He gives a puzzled smile, “I will accept that.”

I fiddle with my hair nervously. “I don’t need a list. I will just get what I feel like I would need.”

“So, when do you want to go? Shopping?” He again falters.

I smile at him. “How about now?”

He bows and stretches his arm out for me to lead the way, the smile still plastered on his face, enticing me.

“You’re a real charmer, aren’t you Mr. Walker?”I say as I walk past him. He smirks at me and damn that smirk!

“Only for a beauty like you.” He flirts openly. I feel the blush heat my face at his words.

“Tell me about yourself. We have all afternoon.”

“If you keep up the game. I tell you something and you tell me about you too.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that. First tell me how you know Liam?”

He gives out a guttural laugh. “It’s like asking how I learnt breathing. We are childhood buddies. Don’t remember since when and how.”

As we both walk out to his truck, he says, “I know how you met Liam. So next question please.” His lips curl to tug my heart again.

I give him a gentle smile. “What do you do around here? I know you aren’t a babysitter or a shopping expert. Why did Liam ask you to take me shopping?” I know Liam has his reasons for asking Drake to take me, but I want to hear it from Drake.

“Definitely not a babysitter. There ain’t no babies here yet. Shopping expert? Maybe. You will soon know. Why me? Cause I am his best friend, and he prefers leaving things in my safe hands if he can’t be there.” He opens the truck door for me and curtsies. “Your knight in shining truck is here for you. “

If he left me in Drake’s hands, that must mean that I am special to him. “Trust me, you don’t look like the shopping type.” I smirk a little, feeling satisfied with myself.

“ I can fit well. Try me. “ He gets behind the wheels next and speaks while he buckles his seatbelt.

“ I work with the security wing of the royal palace.”

“That sounds interesting. Do tell me more.”

He gives me a side glance as we drive to the market. “You know you are not following the rules of the game very well. That’s the fifth question in a row for me.”

I know he is smart. He politely evaded giving me details of security and his role in it.

I shrug as I look out the window before turning back to him. “You had your chance and didn’t take it. You could have asked me anything five questions ago. Now stop stalling and tell me. Do you have a…..” I stop talking before I say too much.

“Smart. I like that. Let me ask you back. Do you have a….? Cause I have none. I have a heart. But it’s reserved for the one who deserves.”

“Well I don’t. But I have my eye on someone.” I smirk and see him lick his lips.

“I hope that someone is here in Cordonia, and close to you.” He measures the distance between us with his eyes

“Mmm. He is definitely in Cordonia, and maybe close to me…. I haven’t decided yet.”

He nods and parks the truck in a lane. He jumps down and comes around to open the door on my side. “We are here, my lady. Where do you want to start from? Dresses, shoes, accessories?”

He extends a hand and almost pulls me out of the truck. Suddenly we are very close to each other and I can smell his musk cologne. He is looking into my eyes and I forget to answer him.

“I can continue staring without blinking, you know. I am good at that game.” He teases me.

I break out of my trance and push him away. “You caught me off guard. I want to start with dresses, then shoes.” I walk towards the mall and he stares at me dumbfounded.

“Are you coming or are you going to stare at my ass the whole time?”

He stifles a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. He walks to me and says, “you should appreciate the eyes of the beholder, beautiful!”

I giggle and walk off with him, following me. He does small things the whole time like touching me or giving me a wink here and there.

After some time we are in a shop and I step out of the dressing room in a pink form fitting dress. I see Drake gawking at me.

“Do you think this will do?” I ask as I do a little twirl.

Drake adjusts himself and he nods. “That looks amazing on you. But for lunch with me. Not office wear. Definitely not for work with Liam. NO.”

“I was hoping for lunch with Liam….” I stop when I realize what he said. “Why not ‘for work’ with Liam?”

“ Won’t you be having an official lunch with him with other people around? Why do you want pink? Choose a nude or black.” He fumbles over his words trying to explain. “That colour brings a different side of you. It may bring you unnecessary attention… I mean prying eyes… You know what I mean. A lighter shade will be better.” He wipes the unseen sweat on his forehead.

I raise my brow at him. “Pink is perfect for me. I am not changing it.”

He looks away, I feel I saw his jaw clench but the next moment he gives a weak smile. “Sure, let’s go ahead with Pink.”

“I was going to go with pink anyway.” I walk back into the dressing room.

We do the rest of the shopping but it is, as if Drake has changed. He doesn’t talk much anymore and doesn’t comment on my clothes. There is something off but I can’t put my finger on it.

I walk a bit and then look at Drake. “What’s your favourite drink?”

“You are buying me one?”

“What? No, I am making conversation. Are you seriously pissed cause I took pink and not black or nude? “ I huff as I walk a little faster.

His firm hand grasps my wrist to stagger my speed. “Hey Yorkie!” He comes to stand in front of me, apologetically looking into my eyes. “ I am sorry if you didn’t like that. It was just .. just that.. “ he hangs his head low. “Never mind. Let’s have a drink together.” He tries to give a meek smile “Coffee?”

“Sure, I could use a coffee and a cronut or something.” I wonder what that was all about.

He stands pondering…”Croooo… Nuuuuut?” His fingers playing on his lips.

After thinking for a while he beams with a fresh confidence and says, “Now you talk like an American.” He is suddenly happy to catch on the American part. “Okay. I know where we can go.”

We drive to this cute little bakery near the beach and I can’t help but admire the beautiful shoreline.

“This place is amazing.” I smile as Drake leads me into the shop.

“I can get you here some other day. When you are not loaded with shopping bags full of dresses. Rather on a day when you plan to get rid of the only one you are wearing.” His eyes move ravenously over my body making a shiver run down my spine. “And walk barefoot with me on that sand” he points out at the shore.

I am pretty sure he understands I ignored his looks when I bubble up to look like a little kid before Christmas. “I can’t wait. I want to see the beautiful ocean. Liam showed it to me just as we flew over it.”

“Liam won’t have time or the luxury to walk it through with you. I can. I will. We can. If you come.” He speaks in broken sentences.

“That sounds fun…. Will have to see if Liam gives me a day off.”

He seems annoyed. “You are not a machine. You are human and you deserve breaks. He cannot take that away from you.”

He stands up wiping the cream of coffee from his lips and my knees go jelly. “I will make sure you get your day off and we are coming to this beach together.” He says with quite a firm tone.

My eyes flicker between the softness of his lips and the heat in his eyes.

“Thank you Drake. I am sure Liam won’t be unreasonable. But it’s nice to know I have someone in my corner.” I stand up and give him a kiss on the cheek.

His fingers rest on the place I kissed him and he mellows down again. “If I am going to get such sweet treats I can make this corner my home.”

I giggle a little as we walk out of the coffee shop together. “So what are we doing now?” I yawn a bit and feel embarrassed. “Sorry, guess I am a bit tired after the long flight.

He gives me his killing smile “Maybe I am carrying you to your quarters, in that case.”

In a swift motion, he sweeps me off my feet and holds me bridal style walking to his truck.

“Drake! Put me down. I can walk just fine.” I swat his arm as he puts me in his truck.

“Enjoy the Cordonian hospitality Yorkie!”

We buckle up and drive back.

I stare at the window as we drive off. How can I be in this country and have two sweet men by my side. Liam has been amazing even though he disappeared on me and now Drake is treating me like I am the only one he sees. This might just get interesting.

***********

Tags: @alj4890 @anjanettexcordonia @bascmve01 @charlotteg234 @choicesficwriterscreations @cordonia-gothqueen @drakewalker04 @eadanga @gkittylove99 @krsnlove @hopefulmoonobject @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @idontknowwhysblog @indiacater @jessiembruno @kingliam2019 @lisha1valecha @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @ntoraplayschoices @princess-geek @princessleac1 @secretaryunpaid @sirbeepsalot @speedyoperarascalparty @queenrileyrose @texaskitten30 @txemrn @sfb123 @sweatyrysconnoisseur @theroyalheirshadowhunter @aestheticartsx @yourmajesty09 @efecom @grsarco-blog @lovelyladyk88

#pixelberry #playchoices #the royal romance #trr #trr fandom #twinkleallnight #drake walker #riley brooks #king liam

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starsinmylatte · 4 years ago

Text

A Song Among the Stars

Chapter count: 2/?

Rating: Mature 🔞

Relationships: Grand Admiral Thrawn/Original Female Character

Tags:

Space Opera (literally)

Slow Burn

Slow Romance

Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con

Never by thrawn

Sexual Tension

Mix of Legends and Canon

Art Enthusiast Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo

Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo is protective of his muse

Ballroom Dancing

Imperial Star Destroyers (Star Wars)

Imperial Officers (Star Wars)

Angst and Romance

Canon-Typical Violence

Chiss (Star Wars)

Chiss Ascendancy (Star Wars)

Masquerade

The Empire shows off

Imperial style

Phantom of the Opera AU if you squint

Thrawn finds his muse

Total word count: 5,506

Chapter 1: Overture

Song suggestion: Reflections- Toshifumi Hinata

I lingered in the bath, fully understanding that I was only delaying the inevitable. The warm, aromatic water swirled around me as I began to dread the next few hours. Soon, the handmaidens assigned to prepare me for tonight would arrive to ensure my compliance.

At an earlier point in my life, I would have resisted all of their attempts to shove me into the various gowns, gems, and the absolutely appalling shoes that had been chosen for me. I had actually bitten the first girl that tried to change my outfit forcibly.

The handmaidens were all extremely wary of me after that incident, but, somehow, three of them had managed to become my only true friends on Coruscant. Despite my best intentions to hate everyone, Talle, Kaia, and Ahni were the only ones who bothered to understand my story.

Though each of us was from a different planet, we had all been taken from our homes by the Empire. We all served high-ranking Imperials, but my main role was different. I was a piece of Imperial propaganda. I was painted as the poor girl from the Outer Rim whose singing talent was discovered by the Empire and given a place to shine for the whole galaxy to see.

My train of thought was immediately interrupted by the sound of three very familiar sets of footsteps entering my room and a sing-song voice that rang out, “Oh Lyra! It seems that you’re stuck with us yet again.”

I let out a genuine snort before retaliating. “Kaia, you know nobody else wants to be anywhere near biting distance of me. You’d have to be personally requested by Lady Tarkin before anyone would consider switching jobs with you, and that’s saying something.”

I suddenly shuddered as I remembered my last encounter with her. Thankfully it had been brief, but it had still felt like an eternity. “That woman is so unpleasant.”

The second voice jokingly mused, “I don’t know, sometimes you can be almost as miserable as her. Now come on out of the bath. We have to start getting you ready.”

“Just five more minutes Talle.” I groaned, “I can just feel that tonight will be particularly long.”

Kaia laughed as she poked her head into the refresher and handed me a mug. “Somehow, I knew you’d say that, and that’s why we’re here ten minutes early.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Before you even begin to ask about it, here’s your shig.”

I shot Kaia a friendly scowl before immediately perking up at the mention of my favorite tea. I had always been partial to caf, but there was nothing better than a steaming cup of herbal tea before a performance. The citrusy scent of the behot immediately filled the small room, and holding the warm mug in my hands was instantly comforting. I let out a sigh of pure bliss, “Stars, you are a wonderful friend.”

Kaia winked before exiting the refresher. “Oh, I know.”

As I enjoyed the last few minutes of my bath, the tea brought back memories of my home. Before the Empire had taken me, a cup of shig and a hot bath would have been considerably rare, and the chances of both happening on the same day, even rarer.

Back on Ero, life was more mundane. My father always had quality goods on hand, but as a trader, he couldn’t just let his daughter drink all of his products. There were also no fancy bathtubs because they were a waste of precious drinking water, so almost everyone used sonic showers instead. I could resent the Empire all I wanted to, but there was no denying that I was at least well provided for. Somehow that made me hate my captivity even more.

I gripped my mug as I fought the other memories that tried to resurface. It had gotten easier to push them down as the years passed, but the pain was still there. Flashes of my capture, my time spent held on a Star Destroyer, the captain that had trapped me in his quarters…... The last thing I needed was to slip back into these memories.

Then there was a gentle hand on my shoulder. The sudden presence made me jump, but I saw Ahni’s smiling face when I looked up. Her face was both a comfort and a constant reminder that the Empire had hurt many people besides me. She had a beautiful deep green complexion marred by the scars from her capture that ran across her face and entire body. Ahni rarely spoke, but she was still extraordinarily expressive and always had ways to make her emotions known. Realization flashed across her face before she bent down and hugged me.

We shared an understanding moment of silence before Kaia yelled in from the other room. “Come on, Ly! We have to get you into all this kriffing fabric sometime today. I heard that we managed to get one of the better options, but tonight everything is special, so there’s more to do than usual.”

Stars, I almost forgot, I mentally berated myself. Tonight’s not only the biggest party I’ve been expected to perform at so far, but it’s the kriffing Masquerade too.

I immediately began cursing under my breath in every trade language I knew as I leapt from the bathtub, wrapped a robe around myself, and ran out of the refresher, closely followed by a very amused Ahni.

My apartment was quite lovely for basically being a prison. I had a plush bed with privacy curtains, a small vanity, a bedside table, a closet filled with outfits, and a tiny enclosed balcony. Having a private refresher made it very close to luxury.

I walked over to the vanity and had a seat. I had been prepared for Imperial events far too many times and knew the procedure that was about to happen by heart. I used to protest that I could get ready myself, but preparing for an Imperial ball required way more thought and perfection than anything else and by now, I put my trust in Kaia, Talle, and Ahni.

Tonight demanded absolute perfection.

The Masquerade was a collection and celebration of the Empire’s most significant members, and my role was to be the sparkling gem in the center of everything. I knew my true purpose tonight involved way more than my renowned singing ability. My presence tonight was pure propaganda. I was a message to every person on every planet in the Empire. This could be you. The Empire is generous. If this insignificant girl from the Outer Rim could be here, you could be here too.

I had already been warned about the consequences if I fell short of what was required tonight.

Hours later, the process was finally complete. Talle had powdered, colored, and shaded my face to her precise standards. She had even filled my lips in with a deep red pigment and darkened my eyelashes to complement my icy blue eyes. Not to be outdone, Kaia had coaxed my long blonde hair into an elegant, intricate updo inlaid with black and white quartz.

The dress came last, and it was stunning. When Ahni opened my closet, I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. Whoever had selected it had undoubtedly wanted me to stand out. There would be no shortage of finery tonight, but I was to be resplendent.

Talle was completely astonished for a long moment before she spoke, “I do believe this is the least horrid thing they’ve picked out for you.”

Ahni nodded vigorously in agreement while Kaia and I remained utterly speechless. The dress was breathtaking, even just on the mannequin.

Getting into the dress was a three-person endeavor, but the struggle was utterly worth it. The long, form-fitting black dress perfectly hugged every curve from the floor up before tapering just slightly above my cleavage. There, the material shifted to the left, wrapped behind my neck, and then formed a sleeve that draped down my entire right arm. However, the most remarkable thing about the dress was the fabric. Any and every way that I moved caused the material to shimmer like the thousands of stars twinkling in the night sky.

I was provided a single thick, gold cuff for my left wrist, and even though the hem of the dress would cover them, heeled slippers made out of the same fabric as the dress.

Talle smiled and carefully handed me the final missing piece. “Now, now,” she jested, “you can’t go to a masquerade without this.”

The mask she handed me was so intricately ornate that it easily could have been mistaken for black lace, but it was actually made from a lightweight metal inlaid with dozens of sparkling diamonds. When I put it on, it rested just above my nose to conceal the upper half of my face beautifully.

As Kaia secured the whole thing in my hair with more pins and gemstones, Ahni produced a floor-length mirror from the closet. In my performances on Eros, I had worn dresses that were considered elegant in the Outer Rim, but there was no way they could ever compare to this. For the first time in my life, I was stunned at my appearance. I had never been overly confident, but now I felt absolutely beautiful.

Talle laughed, “Just try not to stop any hearts tonight. The Empire might lose important officers, and then we’d all be in trouble for making you look this good.”

Kaia placed a hand over her mouth to stifle her snickering, and Ahni looked highly amused by the thought.

I just rolled my eyes, “I think their partners would probably get to me first.”

That sent everyone over the edge, and we all laughed to the point of tearing up. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Ahni went over to open it, and two officers decked out in their Imperial best stepped into the room. The shorter officer locked eyes with me and blushed furiously before looking away.

The taller one finally spoke, “Good evening Miss. We will be your escorts for the night. If you wouldn’t mind following us, we have a speeder waiting to take us to the venue.”

I smiled at the officer, “Thank you, I appreciate it. If you wouldn’t mind waiting outside, I’ll finish up and be out in a second.”

He nodded and signaled to the other man. They stepped outside, and I immediately pulled Ahni, Talle, and Kaia into a big hug. “Thank you all for your help and for being my friends; you make this so much more bearable. I’ll see you when I get back tonight.”

After a few seconds, we broke apart and finished our goodbyes. I smiled at my friends one last time before walking out of the room to join the officers.

________________________________________________

Chapter 2: Aria

Orchestra tuning: The Imperial March (Glory of the Empire)

Lyra’s final song: Roméo et Juliette, CG 9 Act 1: “Ah, je veux vivre danse ce rève” sung by Aida Garifullina

*TW* brief Attempted assault/non-con towards the end of the chapter

The officers outside of my door stood so close that I almost ran headfirst into the taller one when I stepped out.

“Apologies, Miss, we thought you’d be a little longer,” the man managed as he smoothly sidestepped me before acknowledging his previous blunder, “It also seems like we’ve forgotten to introduce ourselves.”

He briefly paused to take his place beside his partner before continuing. “My name is Captain Dreycolt, and this is Lieutenant Arkmad. It’s an absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance and we both actually have you to thank for our presence at the Masquerade tonight.”

Arkmad, who was still noticeably red in the face, nodded sagely. “None of the higher-ranking officers wanted to be stuck with a job at the party; however, the rest of us were fighting to even be included. We happened to fall at the perfect place on the pecking order,” he smiled slyly.

I raised a single eyebrow at Arkmad and gave him my most saccharine smile, “Well, I’m glad that this will be an enjoyable job for you, even though you’re stuck with me.”

His face flushed several shades deeper, and he started to stammer. “M-My apologies M-Miss. I n-never meant to imply….”

Dreycolt promptly tapped him on the shoulder to cut him off before turning back to me and smoothly taking my hand. In one fluid motion, he leaned forward, slowly raised it to his lips, and gallantly kissed the top of my hand. He smiled up at me through lowered lashes, “However, any job that is this beautiful couldn’t possibly be so bad.”

Now it was my turn to blush and I prayed the mask hid most of it because Dreycolt was definitely an attractive man. His caramel-colored hair was neatly trimmed with darker eyebrows and eyelashes framing his warm amber eyes. The uniform he wore fit him exceptionally well, and the slight stubble on his chin tickled my hand as he pressed his lips to it. After what felt like an eternity, he released his grip, and my hand returned to my side.

There was no doubt Dreycolt’s distraction from his lieutenant’s blunder had worked as intended. I could tell he knew as much from the slight smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.

“You flatter me, Captain. If all Imperial officers are as pleasant as you, perhaps tonight will be more enjoyable than I expected.”

Of course, all officers aren’t as kind or practiced in flattery, I thought darkly. These two seem bearable enough to talk to, so I’m at least grateful for that. After all, they’ll be keeping me company for most of the night when I’m not on the stage.

His annoyance at the situation briefly flashed in Arkmad’s eyes before he cleared his throat. He did not seem to enjoy being sidelined for his misstep.

“We should be on our way by now,” he chided. “The airspeeder has priority clearance to travel outside of normal traffic lanes, but I don’t want to explain why the Empire’s star performer is late for her practice time with the orchestra.”

He was, of course, right. Dreycolt jokingly bowed and gestured out into the hallway. “Lead the way, Miss.”

With the Captain and Lieutenant flanking me, I walked through the twisting hallways of the building towards the balcony where our airspeeder was docked.

I was still somewhat dreading the Masquerade, but at least the ride would be pleasant and I would even get to see the sky again. It sounded like such a small thing to enjoy, but coming from Ero to Coruscant was a massive shock in so many ways. I could always see the sky and the stars glittering at night in the Outer Rim but Coruscant was a completely different story.

Though my apartment was beautiful, it was nowhere near the skyline. I played an important role, but it was definitely not important enough for me to live among the rich and powerful. The towering buildings above me kept all traces of natural light from finding my little room, and while artificial light was better than living in the dark, it held no comparison to the real thing.

When we reached the airspeeder, Dreycolt jumped into the driver’s seat, and Arkmad helped me into the back before taking his place in the seat beside him. At the press of a button, a smooth, clear dome slid overhead and enclosed the craft.

I couldn’t resist making a joke. “For both your sakes, I’m glad there’s a roof. You would have to deal with my very unhappy hairstylist if her work was ruined.”

Dreycolt let out a deep-chested laugh, and even Arkmad’s stormy facade cracked into a smile before the airspeeder pulled away from the building, and we were finally on our way.

Since I was expected to be at the venue early to rehearse, night had not yet taken over the cityscape. The sky was cloudy as usual, but light still fell to glisten and reflect across the tops of the tallest buildings. The view was absolutely breathtaking.

I all but shoved my face against the clear dome to take in all of the incredible scenes spread out below. Thousands of speeders, taxis, and transports wove around the many buildings, each with a different purpose and destination. I was beyond captivated by all the people and their freedom to go wherever they pleased, whenever they wanted to.

Before I knew it, we had arrived at one of the most palatial homes on the highest level I had ever seen. Dreycolt stopped the speeder at the balcony, although calling it a balcony was a massive understatement, and Arkmad helped me out onto the landing. I had become accustomed to the splendor displayed by the most influential Imperials, but this was on another level entirely.

An enormous garden lay spread out beyond the balcony’s opulent landing pad. The path we walked down extended its way throughout the entirety of the grounds and wrapped around a massive central fountain before it continued up into a set of stairs that I could only guess led to the main ballroom.

Statues depicting the most famous Imperial victories lined both sides of the walkway, which eventually branched off to different garden sections on each side. Upon closer inspection, the central fountain proudly displayed the Imperial Crest carved into stone so dark it could’ve been mistaken for a solid shadow.

Every single hedge, bush, or flower we could see was maintained to standards of perfection that would impress even the Admiralty of the Imperial Navy. The sweet scent of the many exotic flowers lingered in the air, and the sounds of water trickling from the fountain made the garden almost seem peaceful.

Dreycolt let out a low whistle that made both the lieutenant and I jump. Evidently, he had passed the speeder off to another officer while we were distracted. “Stars. I had heard the constant squabbling over who would get to host led to an amazing result, but this is insane.”

Arkmad nodded, “Someone told me the Emperor personally picked the host and venue. I have no idea who was picked, but they certainly did an outstanding job with the preparations.”

“I wish I were able to walk around,” I sighed wistfully. “It’s been years since I’ve been in a real garden.”

Dreycolt smiled, “Well, Miss, perhaps after your performance, we can arrange that.”

The grin that crept across my face was hard to hide as that simple thought became all of the encouragement I needed to get through the night. As the three of us began the walk to the ballroom, I realized that whoever had designed the path had done so with women’s shoes in mind, as it was completely smooth and comfortable to walk on. Kriffing hell, they really thought of it all.

Before long, we reached the top of the stairs and entered the ballroom. I didn’t think anything would outshine the garden, but I was so very very wrong. The garden was the pinnacle of control and order, but the ballroom exuded absolute elegance.

As we reached the top of the stairs, another officer was waiting to announce our arrival, but I was so captivated by my surroundings that I barely heard what he said. Beyond him was the main dance floor. It looked to be made out of the same dark stone as the fountain, but it was polished so thoroughly you could easily see your reflection looking back at you if you looked down. At the far end of the room, a small but wide set of stairs led up to the stage where the orchestra was busily setting up. More stairs just inside the entrance led to the upper floor, which was filled with tables draped in brilliant white cloths for people to sit and enjoy the spectacle of the dancing below them. A massive, crystalline chandelier hung over the ballroom and blood-red sashes decorated the balconies.

There was so much more to see, but, unfortunately, I wasn’t there to spectate.

As I walked up to the stage, I stopped to greet the conductor of the orchestra; Skath Farri was an old friend from the conservatory where I had trained. He was invited to Coruscant for his considerable talents and was never permitted to leave. Now, he conducted the Imperial Orchestra. No one could know our relationship was anything more than professional, or we’d never see each other again.

“Ly! You look gorgeous, my dear.” He greeted me with the usual platonic kiss on the cheek and inconspicuous wink. “Are you ready to shine tonight?”

That was his unique way of checking in on me. He was very aware that I had never entirely given my voice, or heart, to the Empire. I followed orders and sang the songs they wanted, but the emotion that drove my greatest performances was still in the Outer Rim. There was a marked difference between my performances here and Ero, but only someone like Skath would ever notice. I still played my part of the obedient songbird, but I refused to give them all of me.

I smiled back at him. “Just about as ready as I’ll ever be. They sent me a rather impressive list of everything I’m to perform tonight. At the very least, I came prepared.”

Skath just smiled knowingly before he shooed me onto the stage to begin warming up with the orchestra. Time seemed to stop as I rehearsed, but before long, the guests started to arrive and I was sent over to wait in my spot in the backstage wings until it was time to perform.

I could only see the stage, but I heard names, both familiar and not, being announced upon their entrance. The ballroom began to fill with voices as the guests trickled in. All of a sudden, a musical cue played, and the room went deathly silent. A ghostly hologram flickered to life in the center of the stage, and the shadowy form of the Emperor appeared.

“Welcome, my friends. I trust you will all enjoy tonight as a celebration worthy of our great Empire.” He paused for applause before continuing. “Now, it is my wish that you use this time to reflect on the victories that brought us to this moment. I assure you there will be many more in the future.”

The Emperor stood for even more cheering before holding up his hand to silence the crowd. “Now, let my Masquerade begin!”

His hologram flickered slightly before disappearing altogether as the lights dimmed, cuing me to get on stage. I walked out to stand in the center of the stage, and as soon as I reached my place, the lights slowly returned to their former brilliance.

I was no stranger to performing, but having every single Imperial in the room staring at me was enough to give me butterflies in my stomach. Thankfully, before they could settle in, Skath cued the orchestra to begin with a flick of his baton. The opening notes of the first piece, a current favorite on Coruscant, swelled to life, and I began to sing.

Almost immediately, the officers and politicians turned to their spouses or began to venture off in search of a dance partner. The crowded dance floor began to clear slightly, as others had no interest in dancing and were only there to make connections. The first song ended with tremendous applause, and I began the second. You can do this. Just take it one piece at a time.

By now, I was calm enough to enjoy myself and to watch the dancing and it quickly became apparent that everyone in attendance had tried their best to impress. The ladies wore beautiful, elaborate dresses made out of the best materials and representing the latest fashions from every corner of the Empire. Politicians displayed the most richly colored and finely tailored clothing they owned and Imperial officers were in their usual dress uniforms, but no one was seen without a mask.

There were all kinds of masks on display. Some were crafted entirely from gems or precious materials to show off resources from their home planet. Others pulled designs from legendary animals or myths. There were even some covered in exotic feathers or flowers, but every mask was distinctive in its own way.

Hours passed as I continued to sing. Slowly but surely, I made my way through the extensive list of songs on the program until only one remained. The last song required using a specialized instrument, so I retreated to the wings for some water while it was being set up.

Suddenly, Skath appeared and sprinted towards me. He spun me around to face him fully, and I was in shock at how frazzled he looked. Even his voice was strained. “Lyra, you have to trust me. I have no idea who asked for this, but they were important enough to change the final song we planned. Every member of the orchestra was given the new sheet music, and a stand was set out for you.”

“They want me to sight-read a piece on a night as important as this?!” I gasped indignantly at the thought.

Skath’s face was grim. “No. You’ll know it, but you won’t be happy about it. We don’t have any time left, so we’ve got to get back on stage. For what it’s worth….. I’m so sorry.”

My stomach sank. If he was this upset… I had no idea what to expect. However, there was no choice but to walk back to my place on stage and pretend nothing had even happened. With every step, the sinking feeling in my stomach grew.

It was so much worse than I ever could’ve expected. There was no way anyone here besides Skath should know about this song, but here it was in front of me. It was my favorite piece of music and the only one I’d sworn to keep from the Empire forever. The piece that had been the star of my first major performance on Ero after I left the conservatory.

Before I could even finish my thought, the orchestra cued up. The first few notes began, and every single one of them felt like a knife to the heart. My muscle memory kicked in, and before I even knew it, I was singing.

Thoughts flew through my head while I choked my way through the opening verse. What would I do? Do I keep my promise and hold back, or do I seize the chance I was forced into and truly sing from my heart? Memories of Ero, my family, and my friends all returned as the song continued. My voice began to flow over the music as I made it my own. I remembered my father’s smile and how proud he’d been of me for my music.

Courage suddenly coursed through me like liquid fire. I’d show every kriffing Imperial here what a daughter of the Outer Rim was truly capable of! I was wrong to hold back my emotions before. They could take me, bring me to this place, and shove me on a stage, but they could never control my voice. The Empire wanted me to be their emotionless puppet. My voice wasn’t exactly quiet before, but now it rose to fill the entire ballroom. I was going to burn myself into the mind of every Imperial present. Whoever requested this song would not see me subdued; they would see me triumphant. I poured every ounce of bottled-up emotion into my music, and my voice soared. Then, I had sung the final note, and it was all over.

You could’ve heard a code cylinder drop in the ballroom after the orchestra finished. The dancing had all but stopped, and people were leaning over the balcony to watch me. I curtsied, preparing to exit the stage and receive whatever punishment was in store for kriffing up the Masquerade, but then the thunderous applause began.

I kept my curtsy for as long as possible before my knees started to buckle. Everything left in me had gone into the song, and I barely made it into the wings before I collapsed. Fortunately, Captain Dreycolt was there to catch me before I hit the floor.

I smiled weakly at him. “Since the orchestra is taking it from here, now might be a good time for me to get some fresh air.”

He grabbed Arkmad, and together they helped me out one of the side doors into the garden. I didn’t want to be seen in my weakened state, but thankfully the garden was empty. Most people seemed to be still dancing or otherwise occupied. Those that were in the garden didn’t appear to have ventured this far.

Dreycolt stopped and pointed at the hedge maze, “There’s a small sitting area in the middle. The only way in or out is through the maze. Why don’t we take you to it so you can rest? Arkmad and I will stand at the entrance and exit to make sure you aren’t bothered.”

I had no complaints; the idea sounded fantastic. We made our way through the maze until we reached the center. It was small and only had enough room for a bench, but it was paradise to me. Arkmad helped me onto the bench before making his way to the exit. Dreycolt gave me one last worried glance, turned around, and headed back towards the entrance. The crisp night air felt wonderful on my face, and I began to relax. I closed my eyes, took deep breaths, and started to feel normal again.

The sudden sound of footsteps startled me. Assuming it was Dreycolt or Arkmad, I rose to meet them. For the second time that night, I was profoundly incorrect. A cold, sly voice broke the silence as the face that haunted my dreams stepped into the area. “Hello, Lyra. I bet you thought you’d never see me again.”

Icy fear washed over me as I was thrown into complete shock. Standing in front of me was Girerd Bost, the captain that took me from my home and attempted to violate me in every way possible. The starlight shone on his face, illuminating his narrow, glacial eyes and the nasty scar to the right of them. I hissed at him, “Captain Bost, what an unpleasant surprise.” I gestured to his scar, “It’s a real shame that didn’t heal better.”

He had the decency to look hurt by my cutting words as he moved his pale hair to the side and softly traced the scar. “Unfortunately for you, it’s Commodore Bost now.”

Before I could even blink, he lunged at me, grabbed me by the throat, and shoved me down onto the bench. Bost leaned forward and whispered into my ear. “Those two boys waiting for you were certainly brave. They tried to argue with me, but they couldn’t disobey a direct order from a Commodore no matter how much they wanted to.”

He paused briefly to trace his other gloved hand over my face. His touch revolted me and made my skin crawl; he seemed to take pleasure in my discomfort before continuing, “Now, there’s no one nearby to interrupt us…”

At that moment, he made the mistake of stroking my lips. It was my turn to lunge forward, and I bit down on his hand hard. Bost screamed and released my throat to grab his bleeding fingers. I leapt up from the bench and bolted past him, sprinting as fast as possible towards the maze’s entrance and praying that I wouldn’t hit a dead end. He was chasing me by this point, screaming obscenities and threats of what he would do to me. Finally, an opening in the hedges appeared. I glanced behind me to see if Bost was close behind, but as soon as I turned my head, I suddenly collided with a very large, solid thing.

The hedges made it way too dark for me to see, but from the soft grunt I heard during the collision, it was another man. I recoiled backward defensively as Bost rounded the corner. The mysterious man glanced at him, looked back at me, and seemed to judge the situation quickly. He swiftly stepped in front of me to block Bost’s path. At this point, all my dignity flew out the window, and I hid behind his tall figure. I just had to trust fate that I was better off with him than with the Commodore. In contrast to Bost’s loud cursing, the other man’s voice was impossibly soft and collected when he spoke. “Commodore, I believe this woman would like to be left alone.”

Still distracted by his hand, Bost howled, “Just who do you think you…..”. He looked up at the man and abruptly shut his mouth. Before he could re-open it, my unknown hero spoke again. This time his voice had a definite edge, and an unrecognizable accent slightly marred his words.

“I am Grand Admiral Thrawn of the Seventh Fleet. I trust you will have no further issues with me asking you to leave.”

#grand admiral thrawn #thrawn #thrawn fanfic #fanfic #ao3 #also on ao3 #star wars rebels #star wars the clone wars #star wars legends #Thrawn x oc #mitt'raw'nuruodo

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lovelylogans · 4 years ago

Note

so idk if requests are still open for wyliwf but i’m a sucker for dee in aus and it seems like he gets a bit of redemption before the most recent oneshot. If you feel up to it, i’d love to read something on that

debutante

part of the wyliwf verse.

chapter one | next chapter

notes: this ask was sent right after odds are! look, i know i’m overlooking several of the rules of the debutante ball, but honestly, so did gilmore girls, so. source material, here. i hope this can serve as a distraction for some of you today—please go out and vote if you are able and if you haven’t already! also happy birthday logan!!!

A debutante or deb (from French: débutante, “female beginner”) is a young woman of aristocratic or upper-class family background who has reached maturity and, as a new adult, comes out into society at a formal “debut” or possibly debutante ball. Originally, the term meant the woman was old enough to be married, and part of the purpose of her coming out was to display her to eligible bachelors and their families with a view to marriage within a select circle.

or: logan wants to dismantle the cis-heteronormative patriarchy with his bare hands and teeth if necessary, roman delights in dresses, virgil fucking hates tuxedos, patton’s really proud of his son, and dee thinks those sanders’ might not be so terrible after all.

⁂

“i need a dress.”

patton blinks, glancing up from the kitchen table where he’s organizing his notes for midterms for his business degree. bright side, last set of midterms patton would ever have to take! dark side, midterms. “just, like, generally, or…?”

the slight attempt at a joke dies when he catches the look on logan’s face—clenched jaw, eyes flashing—and he sets down his papers.

“i’m coming out,” logan continues.

“kiddo, you did that when you were about eight,” patton points out. “remember? i said i loved you and i was proud of you and i’m so glad that you trusted me enough to share that moment with you and thank you for telling me, and we went and got ice cream at lucy’s, and then you tried to use the whole sentimental thing to get me to ask out virgil because you were supposed to have a positive gay role model in your life, as if us being separately gay wasn’t enough in this town whose main tourist attraction is its rich history, from the times of our founding fathers to the times of pride.”

patton’s quoting the most recent town brochure, here.

“no, dad,” logan says, and arches his eyebrows significantly. “i’m coming out.”

the double-meaning clicks in his head.

“no,” patton says, hushed—he isn’t sure if it’s in awe or horror. “like—like, debutante coming out? or, um, wait, like—like—?”

“the male equivalent is a beautillion, and no, i mean like debutante coming out,” logan says.

patton pauses, waiting, but logan says nothing, until patton says, “kiddo, either your attempts at trying to push this information into my brain via telepathy aren’t working or my brain’s too fried from midterms to catch the implications of what you’re saying, i’m gonna need more details than that.”

logan drops into the other seat at the kitchen table, huffing out a slow breath.

“you remember dee.”

“your former rival turned weird allies that are still sometimes rivals, yes,” patton says.

“who came over to our house once.”

“for the gsa poster-making thing?” patton says.

“right,” logan says, and arches his brows, waiting for patton to catch on.

“when… he mentioned he was also trans?” patton elaborates.

“right,” logan says. “i think dee’s parents are trying to out him, because they informed him of their intentions to sign him up for the daughters of the american revolution debutante ball.”

a cold feeling crawls uncomfortably in his stomach.

presenting him to society. a debutante ball. undeniably, harshly female. one of the main benefits of the timing of patton’s coming out had been so he wouldn’t have been a debutante—the very concept of doing that had given him this exact same cold, crawling feeling.

“dee gave me about five separate explanations as to why, of course, so i don’t particularly know why they’re choosing to out him now,” logan says briskly, “but i have a plan as to how that’s not going to happen.”

“you’re… going to be a debutante,” patton says slowly.

“well,” logan says, and fishes out a piece of paper from his backpack. “hopefully, not just me.”

FIGHT THE PATRIARCHY, the title screams in huge letters, then subtitled with Become a debutante or an escort today! Why should women be the only ones who have to go through this? Be a better feminist and put on a dress, if you’re a boy, or a tux, if you’re a girl, and if you fall outside of the gender binary, the choice of debutante or escort is up to you. Contact Logan Sanders for more details. there’s two copies—one blank, and one with an already modest list of names. which is probably to be expected, debutante balls were a big deal at chilton, except the usual names that would be listed under escorts are listed under debutantes, and vice versa.

“dermot, tristan, brad, henry, roger,” patton reads off, slow, and then he looks up at logan. “and madeline, lem, lisa, summer, and ivy.”

“well, it’s hardly fair that girls have to go through all this primping and glamming up just to be seen as presentable to society,” logan says briskly. “boys should come out into society, too.”

“which is your cover story,” patton says slowly, putting it together. that cold, uncomfortable feeling is turning into a warm glow that’s turning up the corners of his mouth.

“right,” logan says. “if a group of boys will show up in pretty white dresses, all very serious about their intentions of being presented to society, with their escorts of girls in tuxes, then—”

“then everyone will think dee is part of the ploy.”

“exactly,” logan says. “his secret is kept under wraps and no one has to know.”

patton leans abruptly over the table to wrap logan up in a hug.

“hey,” logan complains, but patton just squeezes a little tighter.

“you are,” he says, choked up, “such an amazing friend, kiddo.”

it sounds like something he and christopher might have done as a prank back in the day—christopher in the dress, patton in the tux—but this—this—

patton lets go of him, grinning hugely. “i am so proud of you.”

“so you’re okay with it?”

“okay with it?!” patton laughs. “you’re protecting your friend from getting outed in a way that would be very embarrassing and schooling high society about how weird it is that they still present their daughters like they’re cattle for purchase! of course i’m okay with it!”

“so, dress?” logan asks, and honestly, patton’s just about ready to grab his wallet and haul logan to the finest dress store he can find, before logan continues, “if grandma still has it, we could probably steal the one she was intending to use for you from the cellar.”

that cold feeling is back. “ah.”

logan blinks. “what?”

patton sits back down. “i forgot about your grandparents.”

“what about—?”

patton chews at his lip. “mom’s a part of the daughters of the american revolution.”

“why does that matter?” logan says, and patton sighs.

“oh, you know by now that things work differently in grandma’s world than ours,” patton says. “just—i definitely support your right to do this, but just… know that if a fight comes out of this, i will not regret it or back down, okay? i’m always on your team.”

“well, i know that,” logan says, like it’s obvious, which, fair, it probably is, or at least patton hopes so, it’s his job as a dad to be on his kid’s side. “i’ll bring it up at dinner on friday, we’ll see how it goes over then. they’re less likely to yell at me.”

“it’ll just be us and grandma, your grandpa’s in… i think copenhagen?” patton says, considering, and waves a hand. “some historical city across an ocean, anyway, and virgil’s working.”

virgil is almost always working on friday nights. it’s only partly because he owns the diner, but it’s also because, well. friday night dinners. patton doesn’t blame him for avoiding them—even with the buffer of a couple months, it’s not exactly an easy relationship between him and patton’s parents.

“well, that’ll be something,” logan says briskly, then stands. “i’m going to go put one of these sheets on sideshire high’s bulletin board.”

“good call, a ton of kids here would want to crush heteronormativity and an excuse to wear a pretty dress slash tux,” patton says. “i’m betting you’re gonna ask roman?”

logan looks like he’s trying not to flush, and he adjusts his chilton jacket. “he’s the one letting me in. he’s still there for cheer practice.”

“ahhh,” patton says, only a little teasing. “well, let me know what your plans for the afternoon are, it’ll probably be virgil’s for dinner tonight, ‘cause,” and he lifts up a sheaf of his papers for emphasis.

“isn’t it always?” logan points out, and, with that, he departs.

“my little baby, off to destroy people!” patton calls teasingly after him, grinning, so proud he feels like he’s about to burst.

“i’m destroying the cis-heteronormative patriarchy!” logan calls, and then there’s the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut.

patton’s going to take him on a trip to bookstore and he’s buying him everything he wants.

⁂

“granmè, i’m home!” dee calls, dropping his backpack at the door and hanging his bowler hat on the coat rack.

“hello, mister slange.”

“nanny,” dee acknowledges. he’d address her by her first name, if he knew it. he admires that about her; it’s something they share.

nanny soledad used to be his nanny, back when he’d needed such things; she’s from the dominican republic, which his parents thought was “close enough” to being haitian that it would be enough to help him adjust. which is accurate enough geographically, but not culturally. honestly, he’s surprised his parents even bothered to look as far as geographically.

but now he is too old for such things, and his grandmother’s memory problems are growing more and more apparent by the day, so nanny had made the transition from the ancestral slange manor to the slange family townhome, where his grandmother evelyn lives.

the townhome is a bit run-down, in comparison with the manor; no multiple wings, no murals on the ceilings, no precisely selected statues in the alcoves. instead, the townhome is a conglomeration of furniture collected by the family over the years; all of it high-quality, expensive, but almost none of it matching, with persian rugs thrown down over almost every hardwood surface, armchairs cluttering the spare corners, paintings hanging dilapidated with no rhyme or reason to their collection. it feels a bit squashed and claustrophobic, sometimes, with its dark woods and narrow hallways and secluded rooms, in comparison to the aggressively, purposefully airy nature of the manor with its open floor plan and silver accents and crisp, neutral colors.

the townhome is closer to chilton, so dee had reasoned to his parents that there was no reason to keep using too much gas to have him make the commute home every night. his parents, frankly just happy to have him out of their hair, had acquiesced swiftly.

well. they tended to like him out of their lives, until they needed him for something. until he needed to act like a doll. dee pushes those thoughts away; he’s thought about it quite enough today.

so dee and his snakes and his clothes were stationed in one guest bedroom, nanny and martha in the others, and dee would return to the ancestral home on weekends and long breaks. it would stay that way for as long as he and nanny could get away with it.

especially with the latest developments. dee suppresses a shudder at the way he’d handled himself earlier in the day, and instead turns his attention to nanny.

“where is she?”

“your grandmother’s in the greenhouse,” nanny says, then, seeing the look on his face, “not gardening, you know i would be supervising if she were.”

“the azaleas are in bloom,” dee acknowledges. “she does like the azaleas.”

“that she does,” nanny says, and falls into step beside him. “i’ve had martha gather some cuttings sent up to her room. bertie is out running errands, but he should be back in time for supper. ingrid will be in later for dinner and should be sticking to the menu, unless you have other requests. it’s lobster linguine tonight.”

“all fine,” dee says, and winces to himself at how distracted he sounds. he needs to stop thinking about it. he needs to focus on the now. the present. thinking about his parents’ ultimatum looming over his head would do no good right now.

“now, she’s taken her medicine for the afternoon and requested some tea. would you like some as well, perhaps a snack?”

“whatever she’s requested will suffice,” dee says. “thank you, nanny.”

nanny nods, and departs for the kitchen. dee continues through the house, to the backdoor, and into the greenhouse.

greenhouse is a bit of an exaggeration. it’s really more of a solarium that’s been overcrowded with pots and planters, in addition to the gardens outside. there’s floor-to-ceiling windows, and the room is overwhelmed with wicker furniture. it’s calming, in here; to say that there’s a lot of earth tones would be an understatement, and the light filters in gold and tangibly warm.

it’s the most open-air part of the house, but less like the manor; if the manor was like some renaissance painter’s imagination of heaven, all pearly white clouds and soft pastels, this was an impressionist painting’s portrait of a landscape—plants and woods and life, verdant and vibrant and vivid.

the greenhouse is also the warmest room in the house, which he’s sure is part of why it’s his grandmother’s favorite. dee’s already moving to shed his capelet and gloves; if he doesn’t, he’ll get disgustingly sweaty.

his grandmother is sitting in her favored rocking chair, seemingly not having heard him open the door. her reading glasses are perched on her nose, about to slip off, and she’s deeply absorbed in her book.

“hello, granmè,” he says in french.

that makes her look up, and she smiles at him, reaching out her hand.

“hello, my sweet,” she says warmly, and he reaches out and squeezes her hand carefully—he has an irrational fear that one day, if he forgets his strength, if he squeezes too hard, he’ll snap the delicate little bones in her frail hand easier than blinking. she switches to french. “did you have fun at school?”

he scowls, settling in the rocking chair beside hers, separate by an end table that’s teeming with books. “it’s school, grand-mère.”

“that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun,” she says. “did you learn anything interesting, at least?”

that logan sanders is just as unsurprisingly terrible at comfort that one would expect?

instead, he says, “we’re supposed to start reading sula for homework today.”

she brightens, as he knew she would—his grandmother adores all things toni morrison—and they begin talking about books, and other works by toni morrison, and their favorite parts of said books, which eats up the better part of the fifteen minutes it takes nanny to deliver the tea tray to the greenhouse.

“thank you, nanny,” evelyn says, still in french. nanny nods—she’s fluent in spanish and portuguese and english, not quite in french, but she knows enough to get by in a conversation—and withdraws from the room without a word.

dee swiftly takes the teapot before his grandmother can attempt to pour it herself—her plus a heavy pot of near-boiling water was a hospital visit waiting to happen—and switches to english, saying, “would you mind plating some of the battenburg for me, granmè?”

“as long as you have a crumpet,” she says. “you’re a growing boy, noodle.”

“yes, yes, fine,” he sighs, pretending to be put-upon at both the pet name and the insistence of somewhat healthy eating. “a crumpet too, then.”

he fixes her cup as she likes it—two sugars, a splash of cream—and trades her teacup and saucer for a plate of snacks before he works on making his own tea and she arranges her own plate. he notices that she has reached for none of the savory options, instead opting entirely for sweets.

dee hides his smirk in his tea.

they continue chit-chatting about all kinds of things as they work their way slowly through tea, a holdover from his english grandfather. even though grand-mère’s french, she’s too fond of teacakes and snacking in general to really do away with it, even nearly two decades after his passing. they talk about the azaleas (yes, they look exceptional this year) running the household (bertie was going to visit his grandchildren next week, yes he’d make sure bertie would pass on her hellos, yes he’ll manage fine without him, it’s not like nanny and martha and ingrid won’t be here) and his academics (yes, he thinks the semester’s going well.)

they talk about everything except the thing that’s weighing most heavily on his mind.

she might not know. she might not even remember.

dee pushes that thought away. once they’ve finished their tea, he excuses himself to do his homework, leaving her to her book and her admiration of the lilies, and nanny smoothly institutes herself in his chair, with the guise of a magazine to make it seem like she wasn’t supervising his grandmother.

dee picks up his capelet, gloves, and backpack on his way up to his room. back at the manor, he has a whole wing, but here he just has his room. it suffices.

he sits on the bed, briefly, in sight of the full-length, gilt-edged mirror, to sweep the capelet back around his shoulders and ensure that it’s sitting on him properly; he could probably get away with taking off his binder, as he’s home and they aren’t expecting visitors, except he very much does not want to do that right now. he pulls on his gloves, covering his vitiligo-ridden left hand first; his dermatologist swears his particular case is segmental, which typically doesn’t expand with time, but it feels like it has been.

but then again, it is just his left side affected. so. perhaps the woman who’d been to school for twelve years and was a specialist in his particular condition was right.

dee toes off his loafers, debating crossing the room and entering his walk-in closet to store them properly on the shoe rack, but decides against it—the singular item of clutter makes his room seem a little more lived-in.

it’s not that he doesn’t like his room here; they hired decorators to redo it back when his grandmother moved in and he started spending more time here, years ago, so the walls are a subtle shade of gold, with an accent wall plastered with an art-deco black-and-gold theme was behind his bed. his bed is massive and plush. everywhere he looks, things are black, gold, and white, in that order of frequency.

it’s just not very… well. lived-in.

his room at the manor house is worse, though. just about the only thing he likes there is the aesthetic of the gold. the chandelier and tufted wall and personal tv and absurdist decor that screamed “this is too expensive for you to even look at!” he could do without.

he might have to look at it all the more, soon. he’s dreading it.

“homework,” he reminds himself, “homework.”

he makes a beeline for his desk, where his snakes are settled in their vivarium, all lazily sunning themselves under the heat lamp, tangled together in a loose pile.

“layabouts, the lot of you,” dee informs them. luke, leia, and han do not seem to care.

dee settles at his desk, getting out his agenda, his books, and his notebooks. he gets out his favorite pen and sits, ready to get started on his to-do list for the day.

and that’s where his brain stops focusing on school, and starts focusing on what happened at school.

there are several locations in chilton that seem like they were designed specifically for crying.

the most popular ones are the almost-always abandoned bathrooms near the journalism lab were a good bet for most, with the stress of deadlines; and, considering they tended to share with the chemistry and biology labs, that was tripled, and therefore the most commonly-used choice. it wasn’t uncommon for med-school-aiming seniors to duck out around finals week and return after a carefully scheduled five-minute crying break, red-rimmed around the eyes. most were polite enough not to mention it to their faces.

then there was the kiln room; considering it was mostly empty, all bare walls and concrete, excepting for the periods of time where there were ceramics classes or art club, of course, it went mostly empty, and tended to be the discerning choice for arts-inclined students.

and then there was the option that he had opted for today; steal into the senior’s lounge, near the rear exit of the school, and hunker up into the most hidden corner, giving himself until the bell for the next class bell rings to have his breakdown where no one, not nanny or ingrid or bertie or martha or god forbid granmè would be able to hear him, the urge he’s been holding in since he descended from a lie-in yesterday morning to see his parents both sitting at the table. at granmè’s house. to speak to him.

which, really, was never a good sign in the first place, but even for his parents it was a particularly fucking terrible—

the exit door opens.

shit. shit.

dee hastily uses the ends of his capelet to wipe at his eyes and then rummages in his backpack, yanking out the first book he lays hands on, hoping against hope that he can pass it off as skipping class, he can manage that, his reputation wouldn’t even take a hit for that, whereas if someone like louise fucking grant caught him crying—

“are you skipping class?”

dee makes a show of glancing up, nonchalant, at the person who’s spoken.

“are you?” dee contests. logan sanders shakes his head, his hands braced on his backpack straps.

“no,” he says, then, “the bus popped a tire on the way to school.”

“another count against the bus,” dee murmurs, and he turns his attention back to the book, feigning a loss of interest.

logan has not walked away. in fact, he’s walking closer. dee clears his throat, hoping that he won’t get close enough to see his puffy, red-rimmed eyes. he’d specifically planned this particular crying jag so no one would see his puffy, red-rimmed eyes.

“are you skipping class?” logan repeats. dee stifles a curse. damn journalist.

“so what if i am?” dee says, and he might have pulled off his airy tone, if his voice hadn’t cracked on the last word. dee coughs, to cover it, but now logan is walking closer.

“were you… crying?” logan says uncertainly.

“no,” dee lies. and honestly, getting caught might be worth it for the expressions that wars across logan’s face—pained awkwardness overwhelms it, but there’s concern, and discomfort, and a sense of do i have to, and honestly, if dee wasn’t in such a shitty mood it would be pretty funny.

“may i sit?”

“will you listen if i say no?”

“probably not,” logan admits. “even if you weren’t crying, which i’m pretty sure you were—”

“—i wasn’t—”

“—your attendance is as good as mine, i’d still want to know why you were skipping class.”

dee makes a show of sighing, but shoves his backpack a little further away and scoots further into the corner. logan nods, settling his backpack beside dee’s, and sits close to dee. not quite side-by-side, but just far enough away that it’s clear he’s offering dee the choice to lean closer. it’s strangely thoughtful. he remembers, distantly, logan at his birthday party; he’d ducked hugs a lot of the time, only accepting it when he couldn’t substitute a handshake. he wonders if logan doesn’t like physical contact, and tucks away the idea of investigating that for potential use later.

logan pauses, before he says, almost kindly, “the book’s giving you away. you’re reading the scarlet letter. we read that last quarter. i highly doubt you’d be rereading it. you made your dislike known enough as we were reading it, not that i blame you for finding it dull and archaic. it is dull and archaic.”

dee bites back a curse as he makes a show of glancing at the book. he knew he should have cleaned out his backpack after midterms, but no, he’d been too busy—

“i like the scarlet letter,” dee lies, and logan looks at him, arching an eyebrow.

“try again.”

“what?” dee says. “i could.”

“you literally overrode class one day to complain, at length, about how stupid the plot is, how overblown and over-long the prose is, and that hawthorne desperately needed an editor. which i agree with, by the way.”

“well,” dee says. “i could still like it.”

“please,” logan scoffs.

he turns the book in his hands and reduces a shudder. god, what a terrible book. he’ll toss it as soon as he gets home.

“well, i like sleep,” dee says lightly, “and one should always have sleep-inducing material on hand. it’s remarkably effective. i like it for that reason, how about that?”

logan smiles, with a little hum of acknowledgement. a i don’t believe you but i think your excuse is funny enough that i won’t press you on it hum. dee’s heard it many times.

they sit in silence for a couple minutes. long enough that dee thinks that he’s going to get away with it—if they’re quiet until second period, then dee can steal away and have an excuse ready by lunch, if need be.

except logan clears his throat, and dee braces himself.

“if you’d like to… talk,” he says stiffly, and he coughs again. “i am—here. clearly. not just physically, as i am now, but as a means of support. i suppose.”

dee rolls his eyes. “how convincing,” he says, and ignored how clogged-up his voice sounds, all of a sudden.

“yes, well,” logan says. “of the many things my father’s taught me, one thing he apparently hasn’t been able to pass down is being particularly good at navigating these… emotional kinds of conversations is not one of them.”

dee would laugh at the look on logan’s face when he says emotional, if his brain wasn’t stuck on my father.

“your dad,” dee says, a strange tone in his voice, before he can stop himself.

logan’s dad, who was raised in this environment, in this world, and, somehow, had managed to be openly, proudly trans.

logan’s dad, who had been trans, without his parents attempting to publicly interfere with the way he presented himself.

must be nice.

“yes,” logan says cautiously. “what about my dad?”

dee takes a deep breath, and, immediately, two concepts begin to war in his mind.

don’t tell him, one side screams. the whole reason you’re out here is because you don’t want people to see weakness!

he has access to a unique perspective that, to your knowledge, is only shared by yourself and that other person, he argues with himself. and the largest part of this that would be kept secret, he already knows. and you have blackmail in hand if he were to suddenly confess with this additional quest for information.

dee lets out his breath. he says, “does your dad talk about the way it was for him? back then.”

logan stiffens, ever so slightly, in surprise.

“not often,” he says, the cautiousness still lingering in his tone. “he’s only ever really told me a little; bits and pieces. not details, you understand, but…”

logan pauses, collecting his thoughts. dee almost snaps at him to hurry up; usually, logan’s a decent enough public speaker, but the whole dramatic pause thing he did sometimes was really quite annoying.

“i know that it wasn’t easy, for him,” logan says. “that in part, the reaction helped fuel his desire to run away, in addition to my existence and the further stigma that’s associated with that. there are likely old issues of the jefferson that could provide the nastier details; i’ve given him my word i wouldn’t seek them out. i don’t particularly want to. in addition to the writing skills of the jefferson being terrible, i am not particularly inclined to read transphobia and terrible rumors about anyone, much less my father.”

another pause. then, “he had a bonfire for all his dresses and skirts.”

dee turns to him, startled. logan’s dad? that soft little puffball?

“i know,” logan says, seemingly agreeing with how out-of-character it seemed. “my other father—christopher—helped. he’s been saving stories of his various teenage rebellions, too. he used to be rather…” a brief hesitation. “a rabble-rouser.”

dee snorts. it sounds very snotty and terrible and he immediately wishes he hadn’t.

(also—well, dee had known that logan was technically a hayden, it was just he hadn’t really heard logan outwardly express it, ever. he knows that christopher is located in california, somewhere. he wonders how logan handles that. something to look into.)

“why do you ask?” logan says.

“you know why.”

“all right, that was poorly phrased,” logan says. “why ask about this now?”

dee hesitates. logan adds, awkwardly, “if you don’t want to answer—”

“it’s… fine,” dee says stiffly. he clears his throat. he looks at his shoes.

logan is one of the smartest people you know, he reminds himself. he wouldn’t tell. he knows you’d immediately move to destroy him if he told.

keeping his eyes on his toes, he says, forcefully light, “my parents have entered me into the daughters of the american revolution debutante ball. apparently, they’ve decided to stop humoring this phase i am going through, as i am now sixteen, it is time to cease such childish rebellion and enter society properly, as a—” dee stops, abruptly.

“as a gender which you are not,” logan finishes for him. his voice is very, very quiet.

dee clears his throat, and redirects his gaze from his shoes to the wall across from them. he’s very conscious of logan’s eyes on him, examining him, staring at his face for any sign of weakness.

“dee,” he begins, haltingly.

“it doesn’t matter,” dee says, except for the fact that it very much does matter.

“that’s not,” logan begins, then, “i don’t,” and then, a frustrated sigh, before he says, “i’m sorry.”

“don’t,” dee snaps. “i don’t want your pity.”

“the definition of pity is the feeling of sorrow and compassion caused by the suffering and misfortunes of others,” logan snaps back. “as a fellow member of the lgbtq community, of course i feel sorrow and compassion at the information that someone does not have the support of their parents, and that lack of support will cause that someone will be outed publicly without their consent.”

dee doesn’t say anything, instead choosing to stare at the wall. his jaw is clenched so tightly he thinks his teeth might break from the pressure.

“is there anything i can do?” logan says stiffly.

dee keeps his eyes on the wall. “no,” he bites out.

they sit in awkward silence for a few more seconds. it feels like an hour. then:

“what if i stopped it?”

dee scoffs.

“what?” logan says.

“please,” dee says. “it’s the dar debutante ball.”

“we can get you out of it.”

“the bill’s already paid,” dee says.

“then we’ll stop the ball,” logan says.

“i’m sorry, have you met the ilk of your grandmother and her friends?” dee says pointedly. “you think you’re going to rob them of the chance to trot their precious little darlings around in a circle for all the men to drool over?”

logan’s back straightens. dee, finally, turns to look at him.

it’s like dee can see the lightbulb go off over his head.

“what?” dee says.

“nothing,” logan says, except he’s smiling.

“what,” dee snaps.

“nothing,” logan repeats. “it’s just—i might have an idea.”

“might,” dee repeats.

“might,” logan agrees. he’s clearly about to say more, but the bell rings, and there’s the beginning of shuffling steps that means people will emerge into the hallways. logan scrambles to his feet, swinging his backpack over his shoulder, before, belatedly, offering a hand to dee.

dee considers it. he accepts. logan helps haul him to his feet.

“your idea,” dee says, picking up his own backpack.

“you’ll see,” logan says, and dee huffs at him, before beginning to head off to his next class—

“dee?”

dee turns, and logan offers an awkward little facial expression that might be a smile.

“if you want to talk about it—”

“we aren’t friends,” dee says, cutting off whatever platitude that he’s clearly building up to. an idea. probably a lie to try and make dee feel better.

“i know that,” logan says, firmly. “but if you ever do… want to talk about it.”

“i will,” dee says, and tacks on, “if i want to.”

“okay.”

“but i probably won’t.”

“that’s fine.”

dee hesitates. “but if i do—”

“i’m around,” logan says simply.

“i doubt i will,” dee says, attempting to resume his haughty expression.

“you know where to find me, if you do,” logan says.

dee rolls his eyes, as if that conversation was very trying and not something that threatens to create an even bigger lump in his throat, and resumes his route to his science class.

“mister slange, dinner!” nanny calls, and dee startles. he clears his throat and puts down his pen, rising to his feet.

“coming, nanny!” he calls down the stairs.

find him. right. like the idea of talking to logan sanders about anything else in his life is even slightly appealing.

no, he tells himself. the idea of getting to know logan sanders? maybe even becoming something other than rivals? not even a little bit nice.

⁂

as soon as virgil comes out of the kitchen, roman has this Look on his face that makes virgil immediately say “no.”

“you don’t even know what i’m asking yet!” roman protests.

“i can tell you’re plotting something just by the look on your face,” virgil says.

“ah, but technically i’m not the one plotting, logan is,” roman says, and, well. that’s outside the norm. roman tends to be the plotter of the things that give roman That Look on his face, the one that reminds virgil only a little painfully of remus.

“okay, why am i involved in the thing that logan’s plotting?”

“patton’s in on it too,” roman points out. “and, uh, my mom.”

virgil pauses, contemplates, and says, “i don’t know if that’s a warning sign or not.”

“well, logan and i can explain when patton and him get here for dinner,” roman says. “in the meantime—”

“please don’t order something that will make your mom kill me for violating your meal plan too terribly, i don’t think i’ve recovered from last friday,” virgil says wearily.

“ugh, fine,” roman says, and orders something that is at least passably healthy, which he could really teach to his boyfriend and—and virgil’s boyfriend.

virgil’s boyfriend, patton. nope, even after two and a half months, it’s still bizarre in the best possible way.

by the time virgil puts roman’s order in, and carries out about three more, he’s carting a tray across the diner as the bell jangles and two familiar faces walk in.

“hey,” patton says, and leans in to give him a brief, welcoming kiss. habit. routine. thrilling. patton runs a thumb along virgil’s stubble, grinning at him.

“hey yourself,” virgil says, and jerks his head. “roman’s in a booth over there, and apparently i have a plot to be brought in on?”

and then patton… puffs up with pride? literally, puffs up. whenever he’s proud of logan, his posture gets better and he puffs his chest out a little and his chin tilts up, like logan achieving something is an achievement for patton, makes him more confident in himself. virgil guesses a lot of logan’s achievements owe at least a little credit to patton’s parenting, though, so it’s a fair trade. logan doesn’t seem to be complaining.

“that you do,” patton says, a little smug.

“okay then,” virgil says. “brainstorm your pitch and i’ll be right over.”

he drops off dinner orders—mrs. torres and a gaggle of other older ladies who coo and giggle and wave to roman, who blows kisses back, because he’s the default adopted son/grandson for any active older woman in town—before he sidles up to the sanders/prince booth.

“right, okay, orders, then plot,” virgil says, flipping to a new page in his notepad and clicking his pen.

patton and logan put in their orders—virgil successfully convinces them both to trade in something unhealthy for either a salad (patton) or a side of vegetables (logan)—which he notes dutifully, before he slides in beside patton in the booth.

“okay,” virgil says, and he nudges patton. “pitch.”

“my idea, actually,” logan pipes up, and virgil obligingly turns his attention to the younger sanders.

“so,” logan says, folding his hands. “i am coming out.”

“um,” virgil says, dropping his gaze pointedly to where roman’s resting his hand on logan’s wrist. “you did that. like, eight years ago.”

“that’s what i said,” patton says, pleased.

“let me rephrase,” logan says, and his nose wrinkles. “i am coming out in the sense of the viennese waltz, i will be deemed of good breeding and marriageable age, must have dowry, seeking males with a trust fund, fluffy white dresses, et cetera.”

“oh, jesus christ,” virgil says. “what friend roped you into being an escort for this thing? because that is not a friend.”

“keep listening,” patton chides, a laugh in his tone.

“well, that’s the thing,” logan says. “i’m not going to be an escort.”

virgil considers this for a moment. “i’m not following.”

“logan’s creating an army to charge upon the daughters of the american revolution so we can destroy the patriarchy,” roman says, bright and perky.

“i’m recruiting like-minded members of the next generation to make a statement about gender equality,” logan corrects. “in other words: i shall be the one with a dowry, seeking males with a trust fund, in a fluffy white dress.”

“uh.”

“me too,” roman says sunnily. “i’m going to be wearing a fluffy white dress, too. plus a ton of other kids in our grade—the idea’s really caught on. ooh, logan, we can recruit some of the dance girls as escorts!”

virgil tries to picture it: a group of boys in dresses, girls in tuxes, gasping, scandalized rich people. the idea brings a smile to his face.

“oh, good idea, we should send put a sign-up sheet in the studio,” logan says.

“wait, you said i was going to be involved,” virgil says, his brain catching up with him. “where do i fit into all that?”

“well,” patton says. “isadora and i decided to set up a kind of etiquette-and-dance crash-course day for all the kids involved, because despite my best efforts i have not purged the viennese waltz or my numerous etiquette lessons from my mind—”

“you, cultured?” virgil teases, and patton smacks virgil’s arm playfully.

“with no help from you, thank you very much,” patton says. “anyway. since isadora and i are teaching the kids, and there will be an influx of fluffy white dresses and tuxes…”

it clicks. “alterations.”

“got it in one,” patton says cheerfully.

virgil’s a pretty decent tailor, for an amateur—he’s done his fair share of hemming dance costumes, or fixing suits, even some emergency repairs for some wedding dresses, over the years. he’s about to say something along the line of are you sure i should do this, i don’t think i’m qualified for something so fancy but then he catches the hopeful look on logan and roman’s faces, and—

“all right, fine,” virgil says, and he stands. “just let me know when and where, yeah?”

logan grins at him, and roman chirps a thank you, and patton giggles, soft, as virgil makes his way back for the kitchen.

fancy debutante tailor. he guesses he can handle that. it’s not really a step outside of the norm, so it’s not like he’s doing anything super out there, like the kids are.

virgil thought too soon.

by the time he re-emerges from the kitchen, ready to wipe down the counters, patton and logan are at the table finishing up the last of their meals, and roman’s at the counter, shifting his weight from foot to foot, eyes snapping to him.

“hey,” virgil says. “you need a refill of water? because i’m telling you now, if you’re going to try for dessert, you may as well give up now—”

roman rolls his eyes. “no. it’s about the debutante ball.”

“okay,” virgil says, and tosses his towel over his shoulder. “what about it?”

“it, um,” roman says, and clears his throat. “ugh. apparently, your father’s supposed to present you at the ceremony.”

“oh,” virgil says.

“and, um, since i don’t really have a dad,” roman begins.

“i could alter a tux for your mom?” virgil suggests. “since everyone’s already doing the whole ‘screw gender’ thing anyway.”

“i—no, no, she’s probably going to do backstage stuff to make sure that the sideshire kids aren’t spooked by the rich people,” roman says. “plus, she’d hate wearing a tux.”

“yeah, fair enough,” virgil says. he thinks the only time he’s really seen her dressed up is when she has to, during a recital or performance or something. “okay. i could help with the tux of… i forget his name, what’s that guy who was your one-on-one instructor during the nutcracker? sergio, right? i could drive you to visit sergio—“

“sergio is in portugal,” roman says, looking an odd mixture of helpless, amused, and frustrated. “y’know. where he’s from?”

“oh,” virgil says. “um, there’s always taylor? you know he’d be super into the whole pomp and circumstance thing.”

“taylor,” roman says. “virgil. you of all people. recommend taylor.”

“i know, okay, i know, but i’m kind of coming up blank here,” virgil says.

“coming up blank?” roman repeats, the frustrated part becoming more clear.

“i’m trying here,” virgil says. “you could—”

“oh, for god’s sake, dumb-utante, i’m trying to ask you to escort me,” roman snaps.

virgil’s jaw drops. just a little.

“oh,” he says.

roman flushes a brilliantly bright red, and looks down at his shoes.

“i—just, whatever, okay, you don’t have to,” he mutters, and scuffs the toe of his shoe over the diner floor. he needs new ones—the white, rubbery part of his converse is overrun with mud and sharpie doodles, the aglets frayed, part of the high-top worn from where roman grabs it to shove his foot into it every morning discolored.

remus used to wear green converse, sometimes, the most casual in his extensive collection of costume-style clothes. he remembers telling roman this, when roman was pretty little and ms. prince had enlisted virgil to take roman out for back-to-school shopping, and virgil had bought roman his first pair. he’d been little, then. six, he thinks. maybe seven. they’d gotten ice cream after. roman had gotten rum raisin, and virgil ended up having to eat the rest of it when roman pronounced it “ucky” and roman had ended up getting his usual chocolate-cherry. virgil had made roman pinky-promise that he would get a small one, so he wouldn’t spoil his dinner.

but roman prefers high-tops, and remus had always gotten classic chucks. roman loves red, and remus loved green.

they’re different, remus and roman. like night and day. it still makes virgil feel a little strange whenever he thinks about how much longer he’s known roman than he’d known remus—really, it had topped out a few years ago, much longer if virgil was just considering how long he and remus had been friends. so much of his relationship with roman was built on the basis of being the last of remus’ friends still in sideshire, other than ms. prince, and so he was one of the only ones who could tell roman about his dad. do what his dad would have done.

remus probably would have bought roman his first pair of chucks when roman was a baby, those little tiny shoes that can sit comfortably in the palm of virgil’s hand with plenty of space to spare.

but remus is dead, and so buying roman his first pair of signature red shoes had fallen to virgil.

basically everything remus would have loved to do with his son had fallen to virgil, really, if ms. prince hadn’t taken care of it first.

apparently, your father’s supposed to present you at the ceremony.

“no,” virgil says, strangely choked up. “that’s—that’s a good idea. cool. i can, um. i can do that.”

“really?” roman asked, eyes snapping up from his shoes. he smiles like remus when he’s plotting, that much is true, but when he smiles when he’s just happy—all virgil can see is roman.

“yeah, sure,” virgil says, and then he coughs into his elbow to clear whatever’s lodged in his throat. “just, uh. just keep me updated on, y’know. details.”

roman’s grin grows a bit more delighted, a bit more remus-like. “are you crying?”

“what? no,” virgil scoffs.

“because you sound like you’re about to start crying.”

“i was chopping onions,” virgil says lamely. “this has nothing to do with you.”

“oh, i better check my calendar again, i didn’t realize it was opposite day,” roman says gleefully.

“you’re the most obnoxious teenager i’ve ever met,” virgil says, and roman laughs, even as he’s backing away, slowly, toward the door. virgil rolls his eyes, and moves to wipe down the counters.

“and you have to wear a tux!” roman calls, and virgil’s head snaps up.

“wait, what, no way—“

“shave off the five o’clock shadow, too, i won’t be looking scruffy by comparison!” roman calls, opening the door. virgil scowls, rubbing a hand along his face—yes, he goes stubbly sometimes, especially during winters or when he’s busy, but he doesn’t look bad with facial hair, he just looks a bit off today because he woke up late—and the reality hits him. a tux. dressing fancy. being involved in a high society ceremony.

“the tux is bad enough!”

“you’re forgetting the tails, the cumberbun, plus white gloves!“ roman says, ticking it off on his fingers.

“i take it back!” virgil calls. “i’m not doing this anymore!”

“too late, i already signed you up!” roman shouts, and disappears from the diner before virgil can yell at him anymore.

a tux. tails. white gloves.

a cumberbun.

dammit, of course roman would manage to net him into some kind of makeover.

⁂

it’s been a shitty day so far.

something kept interrupting his sleep last night, so when he finally managed to get to sleep, he slept through his alarm. granmè was already having a bad memory day, repeatedly calling out for her dead husband and not recognizing nanny, which means she probably won’t recognize him, so he had to keep out of their way, and as he was walking out the door he saw bertie holding up something ensconced in a garment bag, lips pursed in disapproval, whose length could only mean the arrival of a fluffy white dress, a nice reminder of the thing that dee was dreading.

and it isn’t even eight yet.

“move,” dee snarls to the particularly amorous couple blocking the path to his locker—really, people, it was seven forty-five in the morning, did they always have to start the day attempting to tie their tongues together?—and they shuffle aside, to a vacant stretch of wall, presumably to resume their excessive pda.

dee rolls his eyes. typical.

except—

“slange,” one of the makeout participants says. dee ignores him, placing the books he’d had to bring home for homework in and pulling out the books he’d need for his morning classes.

“hey, slange, i’m talking to you,” he repeats.

dee rolls his eyes with all the sarcasm he can muster, and directs his gaze to them; summer, absently wiping some stray lipgloss off with her finger, and tristan, leaning over.

“what,” dee says, in the crispest tone he possibly can.

“didn’t take you for a troublemaker,” tristan says, grinning still; dee notes, sourly, that summer could probably spare some energy to wipe off the sticky lip gloss on tristan’s chin, too.

“excuse me.”

“oh, right, right,” tristan says, and rolls his eyes. “fighting the patriarchy, excuse me. hey, if that excuse is enough to make it look good on your college resume, you wouldn’t happen to know how to—”

“you already know all the people in our grade who write papers for a fee, dugray,” dee says, already exhausted and snippy and—he hates to even admit it to himself—confused. “take it up with henry, if you must. and wipe off your face before you go to class, you have holographic glossier smeared everywhere. it’ll give you away to julia, she doesn’t wear lipgloss.”

summer gapes at him, and immediately begins to screech something along the lines of “what is that supposed to mean, i knew you didn’t block her like i told you to!” but dee’s already tuning it out, slamming the locker door shut and making his way to homeroom. frankly, summer should have dumped tristan the second he told her that she wasn’t allowed to talk to other boys. the pair of them were toxic together—half the material he had on tristan were things that he wouldn’t want summer to know.

the other half would, if it made its way to the right hands, get him sent off to military school.

dee’s saving most of the rest of that for when he gets really annoyed with tristan.

he might be there in ten minutes if he didn’t get an answer—what did tristan mean, trouble-making? and tristan dugray, fighting the patriarchy. please. tristan’s as emblematic of a toxic, rich, straight white boy that there could be. tristan adores all the trappings of the patriarchy; it better allows him to pursue whatever girl he wanted into being his girl of the week, despite the fact that they weren’t particularly wanting to be his girl of the week, whenever he and summer were on a break (and, most of the time, when they weren’t.)

except that isn’t even the only time.

henry, dermot, lem—even shy little brad, who usually breaks out into cold sweats at the sight of him since the whole theater incident in sixth grade, seem to be attempting to make eye contact with him as he walks down the hall, like they were in with him, or something. like they were suddenly friends.

dee stews, furious, at the very idea they could know something about him that he doesn’t know—until he sees lisa approaching logan sanders, who seems to be loading up his backpack.

dee frowns. logan wouldn’t like lisa—well, obviously, he’s gay, but also, lisa subscribes to her parents’ politics, including the epithets of “fake news,” and he’s pretty sure that alone would spring logan into a furious tirade like little else could.

dee pauses.

fight the patriarchy, tristan had said. trouble making.

“what if i stopped it?”

and then he moves immediately toward the locker.

“—long as you don’t say why, then yes, of course,” logan says.

“duh!” lisa chirps. “hilarious, lo-lo, seriously.”

logan’s face twists up as politely as he can manage at the sound of a cutesy nickname, but he can’t really say anything, since lisa’s already flouncing off to be discriminatory and heartless on her parents’ orders.

presumably.

“what,” dee says, “was that.”

“i know,” logan says, turning back to his locker. “lo-lo. what am i, a puppy?”

“not that,” dee says. “you know she’s—”

“a terrible person who stands against everything i am, yes,” logan says mildly. “but she’s wealthy and has a fair amount of—” a near-sneaky glance at a notecard in his hand— “clout, amongst the puffs.”

“the puffs?” dee repeats, his voice already sounding strange.

“you know, the secret sorority,” he says nonchalantly. “one of them, at least, and certainly the most desired to join—”

“i know who the puffs are,” dee says, in a tone that clearly denotes do you think i’m stupid, i’ve gone to this school for longer than you have.

“ah,” logan says. “right. well, i would have gone through francie jarvis, who is less diametrically opposed to—” he makes a sweeping gesture up and down his body, “but she was absent yesterday, so. lisa was the obvious in.”

“why do you need an in with the puffs?” dee says.

logan glances up and down the hall—god, way to show off you’re discussing something sensitive—before he pulls a leaflet out of his backpack, handing it to dee.

FIGHT THE PATRIARCHY!

dee skims it, and feels his eyebrows rise higher and higher, even as his throat gets disturbingly closed up.

“i noticed that a lot of the puffs are due for their debutante ball,” logan explains, even as dee stares at the—the excuse, the excuse that logan’s pulling for this elaborate ruse, that, if it works—

i won’t be outed.

dee swallows, hard. he folds the leaflet back up, and clears his throat.

“the puffs are a decent enough start,” he says, voice perhaps a bit thicker than normal. “as they’re the most socially prized secret society at chilton, it was a good place to begin—people will want to emulate them, especially those who are attempting to get puffed. mostly freshmen, but there are a few sophomores who are sixteen that’ll join. but you need to pivot your focus—the old crows and the skull and dagger would probably gain more participants per club capita.”

“old crows?” logan says uncertainly.

“the secret society for a select few seniors,” dee says. “who have likely already had a coming out, but it’s not uncommon to do multiple. skull and dagger would probably love an excuse to cause chaos, but that’s sorted, so long as you bother tristan some more. and if you’re going to come at it from the fight patriarchy angle, you’re going to need to get the clairosophic society involved.”

“the…?”

“another secret sorority,” dee says. “do you only know the puffs?”

logan abruptly looks sheepish, and dee sighs, put-upon.

“well,” he says. “clearly, you need my help pulling this off. of all the secret societies at this school, only ten are worth mentioning—”

“only ten?!”

“—so we can get people through those,” dee says, “and yes, ten, i thought you were a journalist, aren’t you supposed to know how to research these sorts of things?”

“well,” logan says. “i’ve already gotten a group of kids from sideshire, but clearly, i’ll need your help on the social side at chilton.”

a beat, and then, uncertain, “if you’re okay with this.”

dee stares at him for a long few seconds.

“if this works,” dee says carefully, trying to directly telepathically communicate i am okay with you attempting to cover for me like this, please count me in, “you’re going to have a hell of a college essay on your hands.”

a grin breaks out on logan’s face.

“as if i don’t have three drafts written already,” he says, and dee allows himself to grin back at him.

“now,” he says. “the clairs,” and logan readies a notebook, and, if dee were at all prone to clichés, he might say something like, this is the start to a beautiful partnership.

but he isn’t. obviously.

⁂

logan has his game face on.

patton’s seen this face countless times before; before he walks into mayor porter’s office to demand answers beyond pr statements, before they entered charleston’s office his first day at chilton, when coming face-to-face taylor after his latest piece that critiqued the way he handles town government.

he’s seen it while they were driving to the exact same place, too; before holiday parties, before birthday dinners, before the first-ever friday night dinner. but he hasn’t pulled up to the sanders’ mansion looking like that in months.

patton puts the car in park, removes the keys, and wipes his sweaty hands on his trousers for what must be the dozenth time that night.

“i’m on your side,” patton reminds him.

“i know,” logan says and opens the car door, ready to storm up to the door and… well. tell emily that he was going to join the debutante ball.

which she’d probably be thrilled with, if he was the one escorting a girl in a white dress.

it would almost be a little funny to think about, if he wasn’t so nervous—emily expecting patton to go through a debutante ball in a fluffy dress, only to be derailed by the fact that he wasn’t a girl and, you know, the teen pregnancy; emily then expecting logan to escort a lovely young lady on his arm only to be turned around by logan doing it in a fluffy dress.

patton wipes his hands off on his pants again before he rings the doorbell.

he has never seen the woman who answers the door before.

which isn’t surprising; new maids crop up at his parents’ house like weeds. he’s really hoping that therapy would help make a dent in that habit of his mother’s, but no dice yet.

“hi,” patton says, as kindly as possible—he always tries to be as kind as possible to the maids, just to make up for whatever future tiny offense that they might get fired for. one time he got grounded for two weeks for helping esperanza polish silver and practice his spanish. poor esperanza, he’d liked her.

plus, ever since the whole “being a homeless housekeeper” thing, his sympathy had really only escalated for them—he feels a level of solidarity, even if he’s not a housekeeper anymore.

“hello,” the maid says; she has an accent, patton thinks probably german. she’s blonde, and patton can see only half her face from the way she’s practically hiding behind the door.

“you’re new?” patton asks, and she nods.

“okay, well, hi,” patton says, offering a hand to shake. “i’m patton—”

she shakes his hand hurriedly, before pulling back further into the house.

“—and that’s my son, logan. what’s your name?”

“liesl.”

“hi, liesl,” he says warmly. “i’m emily and richard’s son, she’s expecting us for dinner?”

“oh! please, come in,” she says, flustered, opening the door further.

“i, uh,” she says, “can i, um. get you a drink?”

“you know what, that’s okay!” patton says brightly. “we can handle it.”

a pause, before patton says in an undertone, “if you’d like to hide in the kitchen before my mother gets down here, please go for it.”

a look of relief breaks out on her face. “really?”

patton nods.

“thank you,” she exhales, and scuttles off to relative safety.

logan waits until she rounds the corner, before he says, “she won’t last another day.”

patton sighs, moving to hang his coat on the rack. he would tell logan that’s not a very nice thing to say, if he wasn’t right about it. “i know, poor thing.”

as they continued into the living room, patton could hear his mother coming down the stairs; less than a few seconds later, she rounded the corner, landline phone firmly affixed to her ear.

“—don’t forget that the dar meeting’s on tuesday, it’s at three o’clock and all the women are extremely punctual…”

emily makes eye contact with patton to roll her eyes, as if to curse the entire customer service industry; patton shrugs at her, just a little, before he lightly bumps logan’s shoulder and murmurs “soda?”

logan nods, drifting off to investigate the latest influx of tiny figurines that definitely weren’t there last week, and patton goes to the drinks cart to prep their drinks for the evening.

her mother’s talking about heddy cubbington—ah, so she’s talking to a caterer, then—and patton leans into her line of vision just enough to wiggle a bottle of gin at her, mouthing “martini?”

okay, he might try and make it a smidge stronger than usual. honestly, if she’s a bit off her game from more gin than usual, then maybe she won’t freak out as badly as patton is kind of expecting her to!

but regardless, his mother nods, even as she’s telling the caterer about her very precise tasting methods that they’ll have to follow to a t, and patton reacquaints himself with the process of preparing a martini exactly as his mother likes it—there was a stint of about a month or so when the hotel’s bar staff was incredibly short, way back in the day, so he picked up a few cocktail tricks here and there.

he wonders if he could still manage to do a lidless shaker flip without spilling anything.

before he can try, though—and probably hear his mother’s outcry about trying his absolute hardest to stain her rug—his mother hangs up on the phone with a fervor, rolling her eyes as she did so.

“honestly, sometimes it’s like the only person with any sense,” she huffs.

patton hums, carefully straining the martini into one of the coupes. he would do a martini glass, but those tend to spill more, the coupes hold more liquid, and she prefers the material of the coupes anyway—less likely to have fingerprint smudges, which also means one less thing to use to potentially snap at poor liesl. “troubles with the dar, mom?”

(okay, so maybe he’s busting out his old tricks to put his mother in a good mood—there’s almost nothing his mother likes more than gossiping and snipping at the members of the dar that aren’t pulling their weight, and once she’s expelled a bit of energy ranting like that, it usually meant less energy could be spent ranting at him.)

she sighs, settling on her usual spot on the couch. “constance betterton is running this event into the ground—” patton presses the martini into her hand, and she looks startled, momentarily, before thanks him briefly and continues on her tirade, including the perils of unsold tables and constance’s absolute inability to plan a function.

patton hands over logan’s soda and directs him to the couch before he can crack open any books of interest, because logan will probably spend most of the dinner ignoring them if that happens, and since richard is on a business trip again that means it will be just him and his mom, and with how nervous he is over logan’s upcoming proposal he absolutely cannot do that, and then he goes and makes himself a plain club soda because him drinking sounds like a not-great idea right now.

by the time that particular train of conversation runs out of steam, it’s enough to carry them to the dining room.

“so, logan,” emily says, as liesl attempts to set a land speed record for serving salads in her quest to get back to the kitchen, “is there anything new in your life?”

patton’s pretty sure that it would be impossible to pick up on who’s more nervous, him or liesl.

“there is, actually,” logan says, somehow entirely unfazed. “dee slange—you remember, you took me out to lunch with him and his grandmother evelyn—”

“oh, yes,” emily says, “wonderful woman, incredibly talented gardener. she’s coming out less and less lately, it’s been a while since we’ve had a good, long chat.”

“—we’re arranging a bit of an extracurricular project,” logan continues.

“oh?” emily says, sounding interested. she picks up her fork and begins to eat her salad. “you two are getting along, then?”

“we’ve come to an understanding,” logan says coolly, and even as nervous as patton is, he can’t but grin a bit at his son. we’ve come to an understanding. really, logan, it wouldn’t hurt to say that you’re friends now.

“wonderful,” emily says briskly. “good that you’ve put that petty rivalry behind you.”

patton bites his tongue rather than start on a rant about the seriousness of physical assault.

“quite,” logan says.

“so, what’s this project?” she asks, with a slight gesture of her fork. “you two are interested in journalism, from what i hear, is it something like that?”

logan sets his fork down. “actually, grandma, it has to do with you, tangentially. mrs. slange is a member of the daughters of the american revolution. like you.”

“a research project, then?” she says. “richard will probably have some books for—”

“not really,” logan says. “we’re both arranging for greater participation in the debutante ball. i’m coming out.”

patton holds his breath. here we go.

emily chuckles. “the correct term for the young gentlemen is escorting, logan. are you both escorting young ladies, then? anyone i know?”

“oh, i used the correct term,” logan says mildly. “i’m coming up with a partner later, but i was actually going to ask if you ever bought a dress for dad to use before he came out.”

emily lowers her fork.

patton’s pretty sure that even if he was about to breathe, he wouldn’t be able to.

“i’m going to be a debutante,” he says, very slowly, as if explaining something he thought to be obvious.

“you’re not serious,” she says disbelievingly.

“i am,” logan says. “we have approximately twenty-five participants so far, and we’re recruiting more. so. do you have a dress or not?”

“that’s absurd,” emily says. “i mean—my grandson, gallivanting about in a dress, how will that look?!”

“you were going to let dad do it,” logan points out, and before patton can say hey, nice point! emily swivels to face patton, piercing him through with a glare. “did you put him up to this?!”

before patton can squeak out anything, logan putting down his fork with a clang louder than necessary, and she turns to face her grandson.

“i was simply asking if you had a dress,” logan says. his voice is very, very even. the game face has reappeared. “i can ask again, if you’d like. do you have a dress suitable for this occasion, or should i shop for my own?”

emily and logan stare each other down. patton’s eyes dart between them both.

his mother has a variety of nicknames: the cobra, from her antiquing friends, because she’d squeeze and squeeze at you until you complied. wicked witch of the west, by some of her shopping friends, over the levels she’d go to over something as simple as a pair of shoes.

christopher had joked once that “people considered what patton’s mother would do in a given situation, dialed it back, and they’d have what mussolini would do, then they’d dial it back, and they’d have what stalin would do, and then they’d dial that back and then it starts approaching what a sane person would do.”

she’d once forced an ex-president out of a hotel room because theirs had been bigger than theirs. a president. of the whole united states.

patton’s gearing himself up to provide as much supportive parent backup to logan that he possibly can, and also cursing himself for taking the time to hang up his coat, because if he hadn’t and just kept it with him they could make a quicker escape, and palming the car keys in his pocket. he puts together comebacks for my friends will be at this event and undignified and what will people say?!

and then patton takes a closer look at his mother’s face. it’s not her version of the game face, patton notices.

and then patton puts together what that expression is, with no small amount of surprise.

she’s calculating.

she’s calculating, patton realizes with no small amount of shock, if it’s worth it to go up against logan.

because logan is definitely wearing his game face, coupled with a defiant, angry look that, with another shock, it reminds him of him. it reminds him of him when he was a bit younger than logan is now—and, he realizes, his mother must be recalling those hellion days too.

at last, his mother sighs, wipes her mouth a napkin, and stands. “i might have something suitable.”

patton’s left sitting there, gaping. his mother. his mother backed down. his mother. did not fight with logan when it was clear what he was doing would interfere with her social status.

his mother!

“well?!” emily snaps. “do you want to see it or not?!”

he and logan exchange a look before they scramble out of their seats, heading after her as quick as they can.

they’re going down to the basement, which holds a conglomeration of things and also patton’s second-most-frequently-used sneak-out route. the wine cellar’s down here, along with his parents’ collections of luggage, and matching white wardrobes filled with all kind of things, and gifts from granny trix that his mother has refused to display over the years, and art and furniture deemed out-of-fashion but were still held fondly enough to be stored in the house—it was, by far, the most disorganized segment of the sanders’ mansion.

of course, there were still clear paths to each segment of the basement, so it wasn’t as disorganized as, say, patton’s garage, but still. disorganized by his parents’ standards.

so patton follows logan who follows emily, past life-sized dog statues, past a stack of steamer trunks and matching carry-on luggage, past framed paintings of some of patton’s old family members, past the rows of old wines stored for an occasion fancy enough for them, past candlesticks and antique tables, past crates and cardboard boxes filled with, patton’s sure, more of the same, until they get back to yet another white wardrobe.

“it’s in here somewhere,” his mother says, already flipping her way through rows and rows of hanging garment bags, before she makes an “aha!” sound and plucks free a garment bag that looks identical to all the rest, before sparing it a fond glance.

“we got it in london,” she says fondly, “never actually worn, of course, but goodness, the plans i had for the seamstresses…” and patton feels a squirming sensation in his stomach that he hasn’t felt in a very long time; the same one he’d get every time he was dragged into a department store, the same one he’d get every time he knew he had to wear whatever was laid out on the bed for whatever party or get-together his mother was having, the same one he’d get when his mother’s friends, over for tea, would croon, my goodness, how pretty you are!

patton clears his throat before his mother can start reminiscing on the times of dresses and skirts past, and says, “maybe show logan the dress, mom?”

“oh,” she says, seemingly successfully jolted out of whatever fashion-induced daydreaming session she’d fallen into, “yes” and unzips the garment bag, to reveal—

well, patton doesn’t know what he’d expected, really. all he can see is a lot of white, puffy tulle.

“can i try it on?” logan says. “just to see it.”

emily hesitates, clutching the delicate fabric, before she hands him the garment bag with no small amount of reluctance.

“we’ll be upstairs when you want to give us a little fashion show,” patton says, carefully catching his mother’s elbow before she can rethink any of this. “let us know if you need help zipping it up or anything?”

logan nods, and begins the process of carefully unearthing the dress as patton steers his mother back up the stairs.

“he’ll need help getting into the dress,” emily protests.

“if he needs help, he’ll ask,” patton counters, firmly. “he’s sixteen, he’s helped roman with a lot of elaborate costumes like that before. he’ll manage. let’s give him a bit of privacy.”

patton glances back in enough time to see logan shooting him a grateful look, and patton shoots him a thumbs-up—he’d always hated it whenever his mother barged into a dressing room to “help,” so he’d always tried his best to let logan have his privacy when it came to this kind of thing.

also, okay, maybe the weirdness of having his pre-selected debutante dress he’d never worn or even really known about coming back to haunt him in some way is getting to him, just a little bit.

“how did this idea get into his head?” she asks suspiciously, as soon as they’ve cleared the last of the steps and relocate to the living room; patton crosses to sit on the couch, and maybe walks a little slower than usual to get an answer straight in his head.

“i don’t… exactly know, why this, i mean,” patton says slowly—which is a little true, he doesn’t know exactly why logan chose this course of action over anything else—and fiddles with his suit jacket. “um, but i know it’s important to him. and dee,” he tacks on unnecessarily. “so, i’m all for it. a thousand percent.”

she surveys him, before she says, “you know more than you’re letting on, though.”

“not my story to tell,” patton says, and it surprises him, how firm his tone is. “but i am really behind logan doing this.”

she sighs, as if he’s a child all over again. “you would be behind logan doing anything. will you keep that attitude if he decided to drop out of school tomorrow?”

“okay, first of all, that sounds more like me,” patton points out. “in fact, that was me. logan is at least channeling any trouble-making tendencies toward something productive.”

“productive,” she says. “the daughters of the american revolution debutante ball—”

“—is an outdated, sexist ‘tradition,’” patton says, using finger quotes, “that will, at worst, turn out to be a college entry essay for logan, and at best be a nice, eye-opening event to some of your friends, who, if i recall, were not particularly enthusiastic about that whole upholding,” time for finger quotes again, “‘the promise of equality for all, and we share an obligation to help our nation fulfill that founding promise.’”

emily’s eyes widen, and oh boy, patton sure said a lot more than he meant to there, so he braces himself for what might be a fight, but luck happens to be on patton’s side tonight.

“dad?” logan calls.

“yeah, kiddo?”

“i need help with the buttons,” logan says, voice distinctly closer than before; like he’s hiding around the corner.

“okay, well,” patton says, about to get to his feet to go and help, but then logan turns the corner.

the dress, patton sees, is… surprisingly simple, for his mother’s taste. there’s delicate, appliqué straps, with a modest scoop neckline. the bodice is delicately embroidered, and the skirt is unadorned tulle.

the dress is simple, he realizes, a little startled, because even before his mother was shopping for it, he had made his distaste for elaborate dresses and gowns clear. she must have picked this out for him in an attempt to garner his good graces with this dress; this was what she must have thought his tastes would have looked like.

he still would have hated it.

it twists up his stomach a bit more, thinking about what would have been, what his mother probably thinks should have been, but patton plasters a smile on his face, rising to his feet, pushing that out of his mind and trying to focus on how logan looks in the dress, not on the fight that would have happened if patton had seen this dress, if he’d had to wear it, before he’d come out.

it’s a little bit short on logan, but that’s to be expected—patton had been a pretty short teenager, and logan’s taller than patton is even now, after a half-foot testosterone-induced growth spurt. the skirt would have swept along the ground if patton was wearing it, if he’s calculating right; as it is, it hits logan somewhere above the ankles, giving it a “fifties flare skirt” kind of vibe. the bodice isn’t really thought out for someone with as flat a chest as logan’s, either, but at least it follows the path of his torso—no need to try and lengthen that.

“very handsome,” he says, before he rounds to logan’s back to examine—ah, yes, as he expected, the buttons up the back are all delicate and tiny and fiddly, and almost impossible for logan to fasten on his own, because he’d never had practice with things like this before. “yeah, okay, let’s see how you fit into it—gosh, i must have been almost a foot shorter than you are now when mom ordered this dress. we’ll definitely have to alter it—”

“do you have a tailor in mind?” emily says.

“virgil’ll do it,” patton says absently, as he’s a little surprised at how easily his fingers remember to maneuver the little pearly buttons—muscle memory, he guesses—and glances up to see his mother arching her eyebrows disbelievingly.

“i know he sews,” she says, voice clearly tinged with doubt, clearly about to say but.

“uh-huh,” patton says, turning his attention back to the buttons. “he’s really good at it, too. he’s done some emergency fixes on wedding dresses and stuff, so he knows how to work with gowns.”

there’s a soft hmph.

“he’s going to be altering dresses and tuxes for the sideshire kids involved in this,” patton continues, then, “all right, hon, that’s the last one. is it too tight, too loose…?”

“fine, i think,” logan says. “tight, but i think i can manage for now.”

patton flips a strap of the dress that’s gotten all twisted around, before sidestepping the skirt—they’ll need to get a crinoline so that it puffs out properly, patton can tell—and observing the entire look, how it seems now that logan’s fully dressed.

it’s a bit odd, definitely. logan’s only ever really worn dresses when he was roped into it as a kid, mostly while playing dress-up with roman—logan’s always been pretty attached to jeans or slacks to pair with his ties or bowties—so seeing logan in a dress is an unusual enough occurrence that it strikes patton’s brain as something completely new.

the dress, as delicate-looking as it is, combines with logan in a strange contrast that works; he looks nice in white, and all the delicate details seem to change what they emphasize—the scoop neck makes his collarbone look graceful, demure, but the thin straps emphasize the broadness of logan’s shoulders, the muscle there. the dress is all soft, sweet femininity, a look that logan doesn’t rock very often, because all the rest of it is logan—who usually favors a straight-forward, business-like, traditionally masculine look.

he looks good.

“give us a twirl, kiddo,” patton says, mostly teasing, but logan obliges, lifting himself onto his tiptoes to spin himself around, the skirt flaring and settling. patton applauds.

and then he smiles, because logan is kind of smiling, but also kind of trying to hide that he’s smiling, because it’s probably the first time in about ten years that logan’s spun around in a long skirt, and hey, skirts of any kind might mess with patton’s gender dysphoria, but he also remembers how satisfying it is to spin around in a really long skirt.

logan plucks lightly at the skirt to make sure it’s all hanging straight, before he glances over and says, and patton only knows it’s tinged with slight nervousness because of how well he knows him, “what do you think, grandma?”

patton turns to look at his mother for the first time since he’d started fastening logan’s buttons.

emily’s staring at the pair of them. and staring. and staring. patton’s about to prod logan to maybe ask again, before—

“heels,” she says.

“what?” logan says, glancing up from the skirt.

“that dress will never work if you don’t wear heels,” she says, a glint in her eyes.

logan says, “heels are scientifically proven to cause foot, ankle, knee, and back problems. also, they are a tool of the patriarchy, designed to slow a woman down.”

“oh, it’ll be required,” she says. “as well as elbow-length kidskin gloves, pantyhose, a crinoline—”

“that’s ridiculous,” logan huffs.

“uh-huh,” patton says absently, recalling his own experiences with heels. “that’s a debutante ball, kiddo.”

“and if you’re going to do the thing, you may as well do it properly,” emily says decisively, standing up. “i might have a pair of heels that will fit you, just so we can see the amount of height you’ll need—”

and she’s off, heading straight for her closet. in retrospect, patton thinks, he probably should have expected his mom being more on board when it came to clothes.

“help,” logan says, looking at patton pleadingly.

“hey,” patton says, holding up his hands with half a laugh, “this was your idea.”

logan looks like he’s sincerely regretting it.

⁂

virgil’s putting away the last of the dishes he’d washed (patton would probably get on him, later, for doing chores that patton was going to do later, and how you don’t have to do that, honey!! but he was bored, he did some dishes, sue him, also patton always gives him this smile whenever he does things like this, so it is for slightly selfish reasons) when he hears patton’s car pull into the driveway, and the motor cuts off.

virgil smiles to himself, and makes sure that he’s put everything away properly, before he meanders over to the couch and tries to make it seem like he hasn’t been cleaning patton’s kitchen. he’s obviously going to get found out as soon as patton notices his sink is empty, but.

he can hear logan’s voice floating through the door, “—glad she took it okay, but dad, you had to stop at that store right then—?”

“i probably should have warned you,” patton, a laugh in his voice, “but honestly, well. you are gonna have to wear the gloves and crinoline at least, and since you’ve never—”

the door opens, logan carrying a garment bag, patton carrying a shopping bag, “—walked in a pair before, it’s probably smart that you—virgil, hi, honey!”

virgil rises automatically to his feet as patton’s face brightens, and patton rocks up on his toes to give him a greeting kiss.

“i thought you were working?” patton says.

virgil shrugs, and sticks his hands in his pockets. “things were slow enough, i figured i could let jean close. hey, l, is that the dress?”

“it is,” logan says.

“so that went okay?” virgil says, and logan scowls, ever so slightly.

“virgil’ll need to see you in the heels you’re intending to wear to get the hemming right,” patton says. “won’t you, virgil?”

“yeah, i’ll have to use it to see if the skirt needs more length—and heels, huh?” virgil says, glancing at logan.

logan scowls even deeper. “grandma seems to be under the influence that if i’m going to be a debutante, i’m going to have to do it properly. therefore, heels.”

“and elbow length kidskin gloves, and a crinoline,” patton says, ticking them off on his fingers. “i have a list.”

“should probably wait until you get the petticoat to tailor the dress,” virgil says. “could i see it, though? you don’t have to put it on or anything. i brought a—”

“oh!” patton says, catching sigh of the torso-only mannequin sitting in the corner of the room.

“i’ll just keep it here for logan’s dress,” virgil says. “i figured a headless one would be less… creepy.”

“it’s appreciated,” logan says, before he hands over the garment bag, and virgil unzips it, starting to unbunch the skirt and wrestle it onto the mannequin.

“i hate heels,” logan grumbles. “have you seen the studies on what wearing these things on a regular basis will do to your spine?”

“uh-huh,” patton says.

“not to mention your feet,” logan says, scowling at the shoebox like it’s morally offended him.

“also,” logan continues, “heels are an invention of the patriarchy! they were originally meant to help men secure their feet in stirrups, and then it became a symbol of nobility and class, so they’re inherently classist, too!”

“oh, absolutely agreed,” patton says.

“i can’t believe grandma insisted on heels,” logan says. “flats would be fine.”

“yeah, i probably should have guessed she wouldn’t let that part go, given the lessons,” patton says.

logan glances up, frowning. “lessons?”

virgil glances away from where he’s fluffing out the skirt of the dress, too, to see patton with a strange look on his face; half nostalgia, half regret. it’s a look he usually gets when he’s talking about growing up in the sanders house.

“oh, yeah,” patton says, reminiscent. “as soon as i was deemed old enough, we had walking practice lessons, me and your grandma.”

“…what,” virgil says. because. what?

patton laughs, just a little. “yeah, every day for half an hour a day, one summer! she’d make sure i had proper posture in heels. i had to balance a book on my head, too, to make it even more cliché.”

logan looks, perhaps, a little cowed. virgil, on the other hand, is just—

sometimes, it knocks him totally off-guard, whenever patton talks about the various absurd things he had to do, pre-transition, as the sole scion of a rich family. etiquette lessons and country clubs and going to the opera and flower arranging and walking lessons. patton remembers a lot of it, clearly—of course he does, for so long it had been deemed that patton would be a house spouse who raised kids for a similarly wealthy scion of an esteemed family—but it always throws virgil off, just a little.

he briefly pictures patton—long-haired, in the admittedly few pictures patton has shown virgil of himself at that age—chin tilted carefully up, but not too far up, one of the too-big grimoires from richard’s library wobbling on his head, eyes fixed on one of the portraits emily has dotting the house, walking loops around the living room as emily critiqued his posture and stance with a hawkish eye, the click-click-click of heels on hardwood the only thing to break up her commentary.

“i mean,” patton says, breaking that particular mental image. “you know. at least you’ve only gotta wear heels for this one thing. women are expected to wear heels all the time. and since you’re selling this to a lot of chilton students as experiencing what women experience for a day…”

“…i will shut up about the heels,” logan mumbles.

patton ruffles his hair, and, seemingly detecting the mood that’s dropped over logan and virgil—thinking about what it would be like, to be raised like that—and says, in a gentle tone, brushing logan’s hair back into place, “heels really aren’t so bad, once you get used to them. it does just take a bit of practice, i promise.”

logan sighs, and looks at the box a smidge less distastefully than before. “i suppose i’ll have to try it to see.”

“that’s the spirit,” patton says brightly, and virgil shakes himself and refocuses on fastening the buttons of the dress, before stepping out from behind it to get the full effect.

“it’s a bit short on you, huh?” virgil comments, already digging around in his breast pocket for the notepad he usually uses to take orders.

“i think it’ll look very audrey hepburn once we get the crinoline,” patton offers. “the flare skirt thing, y’know.”

virgil nods, jotting this down; as he is, he asks, absently, “logan, was it tight, loose, itchy, anything like that?”

“tight,” logan says immediately, “and a bit itchy.”

virgil’s brow furrows thoughtfully as he considers what to do about that—brick davis had already stopped by the diner to tell him their nickname they were going to use while they were considering other names to eventually adopt and show off their dress, and they had some sensory issues and had already told him that they loved the shape of the dress, but they already knew that if they could feel the itchy gemstones it would be enough to make them have sensory overload, so he was already brainstorming fixes for that—but he jots it down all the same, before reaching out to pinch at the skirt and lift it, then let it go, just to get a sense of how it moved.

“i mentioned earlier that it makes sense, since i was probably a foot shorter than he was when mom ordered that dress,” patton says. “but if there’s a way to just loosen it a bit, maybe, and make the flare skirt thing look more intentional?”

“that’ll all be in the,” he gestures, “crinoline, petticoat, whichever you get. a crinoline would probably be the better choice, if you really want the fifties vibe—logan, you’re cool with the fifties vibe?”

“fine by me,” logan’s voice floats from the couch, then, “how is this supposed to work?”

both patton and virgil glanced over in enough time to see logan holding up a high heel—white, of course, and very sensible-looking and, if virgil had to guess, three inches tall, maybe four, at the highest.

patton blinks. “putting them on already?”

logan shrugs, and says, intentionally casual, “if they take practice, why not start now?”

patton pauses, before he clears his throat and crosses the room, and says, “yeah, okay. do you need help?”

virgil crosses the room, too, if only to get a look at the dress from a full-view angle, and he hears a ka-CLUNK as logan staggers to his feet. he turns in enough time to see logan pinwheeling his arms wildly, and patton reaching out to balance him.

“whoa, easy,” patton says. “let’s not walk yet—”

“not that i didn’t before, but i now, truly, know that i never would have been cut out to do pointe with roman,” logan announces, arms stilling, but still held out for balance.

patton laughs. “there’s a bit of a difference there—he’s been on tip-toe since he was learning to walk, honey.”

“you wouldn’t let patton set you down on wet grass until you were three,” virgil points out, which is true—he and patton had laughed a lot back then as logan had avoided bare feet on grass at all costs, doing some interesting baby gymnastics in his attempts to avoid it.

“i hardly see what that has to do with my balancing capabilities,” logan mutters, a little embarrassed, the way a teenager always is whenever someone brings up baby stories.

“okay, speaking of tip-toe,” patton says, “you’re putting all your weight on your toes, you gotta let the heel touch the ground.”

virgil leans a little to see—and indeed, logan is balancing on his tiptoes, as high as he can, the white heel hovering off the ground. logan, slowly, lowers and lowers until the heel thumps as it hits the ground.

“good,” patton says, hand still on logan’s shoulder. “let’s just get used to how that feels, yeah?”

logan frowns. “the weight distribution is different than i expected. i thought it would all be in the toes, not in the—” he cuts himself off.

“heels?” patton finishes for him. “that’s all okay, just—i’ll let you know how to walk. but you’re kinda getting the feel for it? is it okay if i let you go now?”

logan nods his assent, so patton takes a step back—not far enough that he wouldn’t be able to lunge for logan if logan fell—and logan wobbles, just a little, but he manages to regain his balance quickly enough.

“they hurt,” logan says, frowning.

“toe-pinching like it’s too small, hurt, or—?”

“i think it’s my feet aren’t used to it hurt,” logan admits.

“that’s perfectly normal,” patton says. “your grandma used to tell me to throw on shoes super early so that my feet would get all nice and numb.”

“that’s sick,” logan says. “the patriarchy is evil.”

“amen, brother,” virgil says dryly.

logan preoccupies himself with shifting his bodyweight this way and that, trying to grow accustomed to it, so virgil goes over to inspect the dress a bit more—this dress, honestly, will probably be the most adjustment-intensive, so it’s probably good that it’s logan’s dress—half-listening to patton and logan discuss how logan should distribute his weight and any adjustments he might need to make to his posture and on and on.

considering patton was incredibly short, back then, it’s honestly probably a miracle that this dress even slightly fits logan well enough—and honestly, the fifties skirt effect would probably save virgil a lot of work, rather than spend any time on figuring out how exactly the lengthen the skirt to brush the floor. it’s not like virgil can really start any work right now, considering he really does need to have logan in the heels and crinoline to really get a feel for how the dress looks, but he can gather a few ideas on supplies he might need, fixes he could use for any potential problems.

it looks like his days are going to be filled with those kinds of questions for a while. brick davis wasn’t the only sideshire high student asking virgil to help with their dress; a large chunk of roman’s class had followed his lead, since, to virgil’s everlasting amusement while comparing him and remus, roman was a popular kid that people wanted to emulate, and roman’s friendship slash tutorship of all the students of isadora prince’s dance studio meant that there would also be an influx of tuxes—which, fortunately, were probably going to be way less labor-intensive than any of the dresses.

virgil’s busy jotting down things he might need to bring over or buy, not just for logan’s dress, but for all the dresses and tuxes of the sideshire kids, when patton says, “all right. walking time, do you think?”

“walking time,” logan agrees, with the grim, matter-of-fact determination of someone about to start to climb everest.

“okay. now, remember, let’s start with half-steps, slowly, we can work your way up to your usual walk slash pace,” patton says, and virgil glances up in enough time to see logan cautiously put a foot forward.

he wobbles, and patton lunges forward, catching his hands—”i gotcha, i gotcha,” patton says, a bit of a laugh in his voice, as logan sways his way back to a balanced stance. a stray thought tickles the back of virgil’s brain, but he can’t quite identify what it is before patton starts talking again.

“don’t walk heel-toe, i’m sorry, i should have mentioned that—try putting weight on your toes first.”

“okay,” logan says, and renews his grip on patton’s hands, before carefully stepping forward once again. the thought pings at virgil again, and his brow furrows, ever so slightly, trying to identify what it might be.

“that’s it,” patton says, encouragingly. “just like that! you’ll get the hang of it in no time.”

and that’s when the thought clicks into place—it’s déjà vu.

virgil’s brain flashes—logan, all of sixteen, not quite secure on his feet, but nevertheless trying to walk forward, patton moving backward with him, their hands clasped together.

it reminds virgil of logan learning how to walk.

and the mental image blooms into his mind, crystal clear, like it was yesterday; logan, all of ten months old, wearing his tiny overalls and his tiny t-shirt and his tiny little tennis shoes, mouth open and showing off all of his newly-grown baby teeth, tongue sticking out as he’d take one toddling step forward, two, patton kneeling on the black-and-white diner tile and saying in the exact same, near-laughing tone, that’s it, honey, that’s it! papa’s gotcha! c’mon, lo-lo, you got this! the sight of logan walking new enough that it was enough to stop twenty-three year old virgil in his tracks, watching eagle-eyed as patton shuffled backwards on his knees, eyes wide, encouraging and watchful, and so thrilled as logan babbled a stream of nonsense at him, stamping his way forward, hands wrapped around patton’s fingers.

and a laugh breaks through the memory, and suddenly he’s back in the present; virgil, all of thirty-nine, watching a nearly-full-grown logan, in his officious suit jacket and tie, struggling to take a few steps forward in his new high heels, brow furrowed still, but no childish urge to stick out his tongue; patton, taller, healthier, happier, overall, voice deeper but the tone’s still the same—absolutely thrilled at the concept of logan learning how to do anything, another milestone for logan to succeed in, another instance to celebrate.

virgil remembers, too, logan’s soft, chubby little baby hands, wrapped around virgil’s fingers, staggering toward him, the way virgil’s voice would get softer and how quickly it became second-nature to catch logan if he fell. logan’s shrieking laughs, logan’s babbling in his ear, logan’s cries going quiet when virgil shushed and rocked him. the sweet, babyish sigh logan would let out whenever he fell asleep against virgil’s chest; his head resting against virgil’s shoulder, his weight and warmth in virgil’s arms.

logan’s far too big for that now.

virgil’s heart pangs—when did they all get so old?—but especially at the sight of logan, almost an adult, taller than patton, nearly as tall as virgil, and almost as old as patton had been that day he’d crashed into the diner for the first time.

and now here he was; in high school, and preparing to be presented to society as an adult. granted, as somewhat of a prank. but the idea’s still there; logan is almost an adult. soon, logan would be making his way in the world.

soon, he wouldn’t need them to hold his hands.

“you got this!” patton cheers, as logan slowly, gradually, walks a lap of half-steps around the room without wobbling too much, without the fear of falling down. “you’re gonna be a heels-walking professional by the time of the debutante ball!”

virgil swallows, and echoes patton, voice perhaps a bit thicker than usual, “yeah, kid, you definitely got this.”

logan glances up from the ground to flash a quick smile in virgil’s direction, and virgil takes a deep breath before he crosses the room to take a look at how logan’s handling it; sure, patton had had walking-in-heels lessons, but virgil had definitely worn heels more recently than patton had.

and logan still needs them to hold his hands, for now. just a little while longer.

#anonymous #ask #my post #text #my fic #my fanfic #the sideshire files

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mybiasisexo · 4 years ago

Text

Oh, Brother

Genre: Angst | Fluff | College!au

Pairing: Kai x Reader

Length: 7.5k

Warning: Unfinished | Language | Love Triangle (I know, but hear me out!!)

Summary: You’ve finally started college and are getting the full freshman year teen romcom experience and it’s not as great as you though it would be, but a certain ballerina (ballerino? I googled it and its ballerino in Italian [quote unquote] but in French they are a danseur and im rambling) might be the calmness you’ve been needing...that is until you meet his brother....

Author’s Note: I plan on turning this into a scenario??? Question marks cause idk if I want to turn it into a chaptered fic instead??? Anyways I wrote this back in like 2014 so its kinda dated but it is what it is yall.

MASTERLIST

credit

With the arrival of the bell came the flood.

You got caught in it. Dragged into the depths of the sea that was the main hall. You grunted and fought against the current, as students barged their way past you, slamming roughly against your shoulders as you clutched onto your books for dear life.

It seemed never-ending, it actually felt like you were moving backwards as more and more people rushed, trying in vain to arrive to their next class on time.

You didn’t think that college would be like this.

You thought it would be peaceful and calm, like a pond or a small lake.

Not the damn sea during a hurricane.

It was probably because it was the first day, and everyone was still trying to catch their bearings. Or because this hall was seriously the most used and classes held up to two hundred people. Whatever the reason, you felt a sudden panic attack crawling up your throat like a corpse clawing out of the grave. You knew that very soon you would lose it, and so you began to count in your head to calm yourself down.

“I…2…3…4—” push “—5…6—” shove “—7…..8….9….”

Before you could lose your cool, you broke the surface and felt the cold wind snap deliciously against your damp face. You closed your eyes and sighed with relief as you realized that you had won.

You battled against the human sea and you beat it victoriously.

But could you deal with that every other day?

You shuddered as the thought hit you and decided to ignore it for the meantime. You had to admit, despite that near death journey you had just trekked, your first day as a college student wasn’t as bad as you—and your parents, not to mention your little sister—had imagined. Today was Monday, and on Mondays, you had three classes: English 1102, Math 1143, and Introduction to Art.

You had just left the math department and now had a couple hours to kill before your last class.

You decided to call your best friend, Suho, and see if he had escaped his side of campus.

“Hello?” He answered happily—did he have any other emotion?

“I nearly died just now. This hallway is lethal, I don’t know if I’ll make it.”

“Well, I’m glad you made it out alive. When does your next class start?”

“In two hours. Wanna get lunch?”

“Absolutely, I’m starving. Meet me at the Student Union building?”

“Okay, see you then.” You hung up and tried your hardest to recall just where exactly the Student Union building was located.

Nearly twenty minutes later, you stumbled upon the holy land. You found Suho almost immediately and rushed over to his table.

“What took you so long?” He wondered, munching on a fry.

You plopped down in the seat across from him and let out an exhausted breath, “I forgot how to get here. I had to backtrack like four different times.”

He sighed, “You could have called me, I would have helped you.”

“I’m aware,” you dismissed, stealing a fry from his tray. He frowned, but didn’t do anything to stop you from stealing another one.

“It’s the first day, and I’m already beat,” you muttered after you had returned to the table after leaving him briefly to buy a cold sandwich, a bag of salty chips, and a bottle of green tea.

“And it’s not even over yet,” Suho reminded you with a smile on his face.

“Can you not? I don’t want to think about that just yet.”

“At least it’s art. You can unwind in your last class. My last class is Physics, there is no unwinding in physics.”

“You’re smart, you can literally handle anything.”

He cocked his head to the side and studied you. Once he caught your attention, you stuck your tongue out at him and drained your drink, smacking your lips obnoxiously when you were done.

“it’s a wonder we’re even friends,” he mused aloud around his sandwich.

You shrugged, “you still have time to run.”

He grinned, not missing a beat, “I wouldn’t even dream of it.”

You held out your semi-empty plastic bottle, “I’ll drink to that.”

He chuckled and lifted his own soda can, your drinks clinking exotically together, confirming your status as best friends for life.

Which Suho was. The two of you had known each other since you were five. Your fathers were childhood friends that lost contact after college, but somehow—when the two of you were five—reunited and stuck to each other like glue. Even opening their own music store together. Kim Junmyeon, who was lovingly addressed as Suho, and you grew up at the music store, learning how to play different instruments as well as the ropes to owning a business, and the chemistry between your fathers ultimately rubbed off onto you, causing yet another family-like bond.

“You are taking piano, aren’t you?” You asked him a few minutes later.

His attitude shifted instantly as his smile faltered a tad. It was barely noticeable, but you could read this young man in front of you like a book.

“Junmyeon,” You said warningly, using his real name to show how serious you were.

He sighed, “I want to. I just… so much is already on my plate, and I didn’t want to burden my parents with another credit and…”

“And you just didn’t want to,” You finished for him. You lowered your voice, “I thought you liked music.”

“Of course I do, but that’s something our fathers love. Music is their dream, not ours.”

You pouted. He was right, even you weren’t taking any classes related to music, but you were still planning on practicing the viola on your own time. Music was in your blood, it was just as unavoidable as Suho. You didn’t know what life would be like without it, and quite frankly, you didn’t want a life without it.

Suho adored music more than you did. When his father first taught him how to play the piano, he had to be forcefully removed from the bench. There was nowhere else he would rather be, and as he grew, so did his talent. He was so talented, that he won many competitions, and even wrote compositions for many popular songs heard on the radio today.

He was a prodigy.

You? Well, you just liked to play. You were nowhere near as good as Suho, despite the many things he had told you, and you knew that and was fine with it. For you, it didn’t matter if you won or lost, as long as you got to play. You learned how to play the guitar, clarinet, drums, and even the piano, but nothing called to you like the viola. It was an extension of yourself, and Suho once said that when you played, people could tell you transported into a different realm. You were in your own little universe, and would only return once the piece was finished.

“It can be both, couldn’t it? You play so well…” You could tell Suho felt uncomfortable and would rather not discuss the matter anymore, so you just let your sentence carry. Instead, talking about everything else and nothing for the rest of your time together. “Well, my class is about to start in ten minutes. Luckily, I know where the art building is. I’ve only been going there since I was twelve.”

You tried to laugh, but got nothing out of Suho. His smile still plastered on his face, but his eyes dull as he pulled himself up and collected your trash, throwing it in the trashcan and following you out into the crisp fall air.

The art building was very hard to miss. It was one of the bigger buildings because the college you attended focused mostly on the arts, and was painted a bright blue, while every other building was a tan brick color.

“Paint me something nice, alright?” Suho said once you both stopped outside the doors of the building.

You rolled your eyes, “You know I suck at painting, Su, I’m more of a charcoal person.”

He shrugged, “I still want a painting. Charcoal is so boring.”

You smacked his shoulder, “go. Before I lose my temper.”

He laughed and held his arms up in surrender, “We wouldn’t want that now would we?”

He sauntered away and left you to stare up at the intimidating building. Hesitantly, you pried the glass door open and scuttled into the structure. Noise overwhelmed you. You could hear many people tuning their instruments, and the noise of a teacher counting and the soft thud of footsteps. If you listened harder, you could faintly make out people singing.

It was beautiful.

The cacophony of sound settled around you in a somewhat numbing hum, beckoning you to walk even deeper within the building. Almost all the doors were open and you peered into each one, loving everything that you saw. A chubby boy wailing away on his trombone. A lanky boy with a mop top and a short thick girl with glasses singing a duet. What appeared to be an African dance class. A trio practicing on their violins. A boy twirling about in an empty dance room.

You paused once you glanced inside the dance room. He was doing barrel turns across the room, and when he reached the end, he pirouetted for what seemed like a long time, stopping smoothly with one foot resting in back of him and his arms held out in the perfect stance.

He was breathing hard as he dropped his position and ran his fingers through his dark hair, dragging the strands away from his face, only for them to return. He must have felt your stare, because he suddenly swiveled his head to meet you eyes.

He was gorgeous, to put it simply. He had slightly tan skin and perfectly shaped almond brown eyes and a straight nose, and lips that seemed to be the center of his face. He looked almost ethereal as he attempted to catch his breath and sweat slid alluringly down his lean frame and his eyes remained on you.

“Lost?” He asked. His tone wasn’t mocking, simply curious.

His voice was just as lovely as his features. You shook your head, “Just looking around.”

He walked up to the mirror where a drawstring backpack laid, and pulled a small towel out of it, wrapping it around his neck, “class starts pretty soon, doesn’t it? You might be late,”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s so easy to get distracted in this building. There’s so much going on.”

“First day?” He asked with an understanding nod of his head.

You returned the nod with a rushed one of your own, “I’m in sensory overload at the moment.”

“Happens to all of us.”

He turned around and headed back to the corner of the room. You stared at his retreating frame for a moment and then decided it was time to leave. “See you around then.”

He turned his head so that you could see the outline of his nose and raised a hand, “see you.”

You had to forcefully remove yourself from the doorway, and practically run to your classroom, making it in with thirty seconds to spare.

~*~

After your last class was finished, you headed over to the dorms.

You still could not believe you were actually living on your own, away from your parents and sister. And as you stepped into your new home, you couldn’t help but grin.

It was small, but cozy. With a living room that held a couch, there was one bedroom that your roommate and you would be sharing and you got your own bathroom which was nice.

You noticed that your bedroom door was open and you could faintly make out a voice coming from within. It appeared your roommate was in. You hadn’t met her yet, and was nervous. Would you like her? Would she like you? You carefully tiptoed towards the door and paused in the threshold. She was singing under her breath and it was beautiful. The words did not sound very familiar to you, but her voice was so lovely, you found myself creating notes to accompany her with in you head.

Finally, you grew the courage to gently knock on the wall and peek your head in.

She was sitting at a white vanity she must had brought with her, and was clipping something into her jaw length black hair. She spun around quickly, startled.

Once you were facing each other, you carefully examined the other. She was gorgeous, but seemed a bit rebellious with her black lace clothing and scruffy boots. With the light from the window on her hair, you spotted green and blue highlights in it. Her eyes were covered in kohl and her lips were set in a hard line, but you noticed the tips curled slightly in a mischievous grin.

After your slight stare down, she held out her hand, “Park Sunyoung. But I go by Luna.”

You smiled and marched in to shake her hand and introduced yourself as well.

“Like what I’ve done with the place?” She smirked, spinning around to face the mirror again.

The room was placed in such a way that each half was your own. Her side was crowded. The white walls were covered with posters. You spotted both movies and boy and girl groups respectively. She had a purple fluffy mat on the wooden floor, and clothes were strung there and about. She also placed a flat screen television on a dresser that she pushed in the middle of a wall so that it was between your beds.

You glanced at your side, You had only put sheets on your bed, leaned your viola case against the wall, and tossed your suitcases on your bed. It was—and would still be once you finished unpacking—bare compared to hers.

You nodded your head, “you just moved in?”

She nodded her head also. “Bout to grab a bite to eat. Wanna come?”

You bit your lip. You wanted to unpack and maybe practice your instrument for a while, but the need to make friends overwhelmed you, especially a girlfriend. “Sure.”

You watched as Luna hopped off her chair and grabbed a black homburg hat before snatching your wrist and dragging you out of your room.

You entered the cafeteria five minutes later, the building was bustling with life and you couldn’t help but to search around, looking at your fellow schoolmates.

There were a bunch of different stores to choose from, and after watching Luna tap her chin while glaring at each station, you both finally decide on Chinese. You grabbed your plates and then Luna pulled out her phone, dialing a number before she pressed it to her ear.

“Yah! Where are you?” She laughed. Your eyes widened. You were not planning on meeting other people. “I can’t see you! Oh! By the taco station? Mmm… Okay, on my way.” She hung up and glanced at you, tilting her head in the direction she was heading before walking off. You quickly tried to match her pace. You arrived at a round table with seven chairs and two girls sitting there in comfortable silence.

“Hey!” Luna sang as she pulled a chair next to one of them, you quickly followed suite.

The girl next to Luna had brown hair that she had cut really short, a pixie cut. While the girl beside her had straight black hair that cascaded down her body. The one with the pixie cut was sporting a guy tank top and khakis while the one beside her was wearing a black and white stripped dress and blood red lipstick.

“Who’s the stranger?” The girl next to Luna asked, studying you.

“This is my roommate,” Luna beamed with pride and you smiled shyly as she introduced you. “This is my cousin Victoria and our friend, Amber.”

“Nice to meet you,” you greeted.

“Are you a freshman like Luna?” Amber asked, giving you her full attention.

You nodded, “what grade are you in?”

“We’re both juniors,” Victoria supplied, taking a giant bite of her food.

“So… how was your first day?” Amber asked Luna, who rolled her eyes.

“Fine. I guess. All I had were generals today. I can’t wait till my fun classes begin.”

“Are you, by any chance, in choir?” You asked.

She stared at you with wide eyes, “oh god, no! What makes you think that!?”

“Well,” you began nervously. “I heard you singing when I entered the room…”

“Oh~~” The three nodded.

“I do love singing,” Luna informed somewhat sheepishly. “I just…”

“She just doesn’t like to do things when told to do them.” A girl who just walked up to the table finished for Luna, pulling the chair next to Victoria out and unceremoniously plopping down. She was tall and skinny and had long blonde hair. Just like Luna, she was wearing dark clothes and makeup, her expression unimpressed.

Another girl who was the polar opposite took a seat beside her. She had reddish-brown hair that went down to her collarbones and was wearing a pink skirt and shirt and a genuine bright smile. She instantly reminded you of Suho.

“Shut up, Krystal,” Luna barked.

“Make me,” the Krystal girl retorted, sticking her tongue out.

“Choir is just so stuffy,” Luna defended herself. “You have to sing three octaves higher than you normally do, have to wear hideous outfits, and have to move your mouth like this,” she began to open and close her mouth in a way that resembled a fish. “It’s horrible.”

“Plus, she never goes to class, so she’d probably get dropped,” Krystal grinned wickedly at Luna.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?!” The two began to bicker, and you locked eyes with the bright girl next to Krystal who was looking at you.

“What is your name?” She asked. You told her and asked for hers in return. “I’m Sulli. Sorry about my friends. They tend to not have manners.”

“I heard that!” Krystal screeched and smacked Sulli’s shoulder, causing her to wince. She then turned her gaze to you. “I’m not that bad, really. I’m Krystal, by the way.”

You introduced yourself to her and she boldly held out her hand for you to shake. Her hand was very soft.

“Are you a freshman?” She asked and you nodded your head. “Cool. So are Sulli and me. Are you Luna’s roommate?”

“Yes she is, so can you stop asking so many questions?” Luna asked, exasperated.

Krystal shrugged, sniffing a cup of fruit, “just curious. I’m surprised you’d invite her along. I know how much you hate new people.”

“I don’t—”

“YES YOU DO!” The four interrupted Luna, causing the whole table to laugh.

“You all suck,” Luna pouted, but a smile tugged on her lips.

“Welcome to our crew,” Victoria said to me, holding up a bottle of apple juice. You lifted your own drink and you all chugged the liquid.

It tasted like a long friendship.

~*~

Back in your room, all unpacked and exhausted, you laid on your bed. Luna was taking her last class of the day, which was at eight, and she wasn’t very excited about that, so you had the place to yourself. You wanted to play your viola, but was so tired, you couldn’t budge.

Vibrating caught your attention and you groaned as you felt around for your phone. Once found, you answered it without bothering to check caller I.D.

“I take it you’ve already eaten?” Suho asked you from the other end.

You grinned, “What makes you so sure?”

“Because you aren’t harassing me about how you will die any second if you don’t get any food in you soon.”

You sighed, “You know me so well.”

“That’s why I hold the title of best friend.”

“Sorry. Are you hungry?”

“Kind of.”

“Did you just finish your last class?”

He was silent for a second, “no. I, uh, finished it a while ago.”

“Well why didn’t you call me then?”

“I was…distracted. Come down. I’m at your dorm.”

“But, Suho!”

“You shouldn’t have unpacked all at once. That’s your fault. Hurry!”

He hung up and you had no choice but to get your lazy butt up and head downstairs.

He was outside the building, leaning against the cool brick.

“What is the rush?” You asked once you spotted him.

“It’s the first week of school, there is so much we could do!”

“Like…?”

“Like visit the art building and watch people.”

Your eyes brightened and you hurriedly pushed Suho, he laughed at your eagerness and you headed over to your favorite building.

“I should have brought my instrument,” you pouted as the doors opened.

Suho shook his head and you entered the first room you found.

There were a couple kids acting in this one. You watched for a minute, but you both knew which rooms you wanted to really be at.

“Let’s just go to the music room,” You ordered. You started running down the familiar halls, eager to enter the one room you had been in over the years.

Suho continued walking, and you wondered if it was because he didn’t want to go to this room after all.

You entered the room and took a deep breath, smiling widely as you were surrounded by all the instruments. You were in the string room, and you bowed to the professor before heading over to decide which instrument to play.

There were a few kids there in a small circle with guitars on laps, so you picked up an acoustic guitar and joined them.

You quietly tuned your instrument as two of the other boys were playing off each other. The music was very bluesy and you nodded along as they continued.

All music stopped and you heard a few gasps. Suho must have entered. You turned to verify his presence and tried not to laugh at his awkward smile. He hated the attention. Anybody who considered themselves piano players knew who Suho was, and anybody in this area who was aware of music knew who he was as well. He was kind of a big deal.

“Please, continue,” Suho said, motioning for the two boys to play. They stared at him instead, either too nervous or starstruck. With a sigh, you held your guitar on your lap and began to play a song you had made up a few years ago. The people around the room blinked over at you, distracted from Suho, which you knew he was grateful. You felt him sit down beside you, but you ignored him and continued playing. Your fingers gliding confidently over the strings.

“You think she’s good at this,” You heard Suho say. “You should see her play the viola.”

You missed a note and lost your train of thought as laughter bubbled up your throat.

“Please stop, Suho,” you chuckled, finishing the song quickly. Once you were done, everyone in the room applauded and you bowed your thanks and Suho and you sat silently and listened to the others play for a while.

“Should we go now?” he whispered in your ear after about twenty minutes and you nodded. You both got up and bowed to everyone before heading out.

“That was nice,” you grinned up at your best friend, his hands in his pockets and his smile somewhat strained.

“Uh… yeah, nice…”

You laughed, “You hated every waking minute of it.”

“No!” He quickly defended. “I just… you know I hate it when people treat me like that.”

“Like a celebrity?”

He sighed, “I hate that word.”

“But, I mean, you kind of are a celebrity, Suho.”

He groaned and covered his face with his hands, “don’t say that!”

You laughed again and dragged him out of the hall. On your way out, you passed the dance room, and you glanced into the empty room. You were somewhat disappointed to see how lifeless it was in there compared to earlier today….

~*~

Your first week went by smoothly. You hung out quite a bit with Luna and her friends and only got lost once. Suho and your schedules did not align very well, and you rarely got to see each other, which frustrated both of you, but you made time—as little as it was—to hang out at least once a day.

It was Monday again, and after a semi stressful weekend, you were looking forward to another week of college.

Your alarm went off and you chuckled as Luna groaned and tossed in her bed, “turn that off!”

She threw a pillow in your direction and you turned the alarm off, and with a whispered ‘goodbye’ you left for your first class.

After your math class ended, and you had once again fought against the ten o’clock rush, you decided to head over to the art building early to goof off for a bit and kill time.

You found yourself pausing in front of that damned dance room again. The door was closed, but you could hear the faint thud of bass coming from the speakers within, and you just knew that man from last week was in there. After a bit of hesitation, you finally pried the door open.

He was there alright. Wearing cut offs and a black wife beater. He was stretching on the center of the floor, leaning against one leg as the music played on. When he lifted his upper body he noticed you, “you’re back.”

You couldn’t tell if he was happy or annoyed by the fact, but you smiled at him anyway, “I told you I’d see you later.”

He laughed once under his breath and shook his head faintly.

“Mind if I watch?”

He opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything.

You deflated, “or…not.”

As you began taking a step back he let out a breath, “no! Wait.”

You glanced at him expectantly and he sighed, “You can stay if you want.”

You beamed and came all the way into the room, closing the door solidly behind you. You sat against the mirror and pulled your legs up to your chin.

“It’s nothing much,” the beautiful boy began. “I’m just going to be doing some stretches and going over some routines….”

“That’s fine,” You encouraged and he paused before nodding his head self-consciously.

After fifteen minutes of warming up, he began to dance. You knew he was not going full out, but even still he was captivating. He moved effortlessly, almost as if he were bored, and he made every move seem easy, although you knew it was anything but.

At one moment he attempted a leap, but couldn’t land right. He groaned with frustration, “I can’t get this jump right.”

You perked up, with him talking for the first time in thirty minutes. He was standing in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips, eyeing himself in the mirror.

“I don’t even know why it is so difficult for me, but I just can’t get it. The teacher told me I was landing too hard but what does that even mean?”

You blinked at him and were silent for a moment. Finally you worked up the courage to speak, “may—maybe you can demonstrate it again? I’ll watch and see if I can spot the problem?”

His eyes flickered to yours questioningly, “you dance?”

“Uh… no, but I’m sure I’d notice if you weren’t landing right.”

He thought about it for a second, but must have seen there was no harm in it because he shrugged and started the music up again.

You watched him as he twirled around the room before going for the leap. He was flawless in the air, but once his foot came down, he was a stumbling mess. He had to hold his arms out to catch his balance and you figured out the problem.

“You’re not distributing your weight properly,” You informed him once he was at a standstill. “You put all your weight on the leg you’re landing on when you need to put it on both.”

“How do I go about doing that?” He asked, twirling the lid off of his water and chugging half the bottle.

“As soon as your foot touches the ground, stretch out your back leg and lift your arms higher.”

The dancer’s eyes wandered above him for a minute, probably imagining the actions he had to take, and then he put his water down and started the music again.

When it got to the troubling leap, you held your breath. He was up, up, up and then he came down. His foot touched the floor and he seemed to spring higher as he flexed his legs and raised his arms, not even wobbling.

“Perfect landing,” you breathed with a grin as he continued on with the choreography. You couldn’t help but to notice how dazzling his face looked graced with that triumphant smile that seemed nearly blinding.

He was now going all out, as if he were performing on a stage, and your heart was in your throat.

You had seen a lot of beautiful things. Watching your father play the trombone, watching Suho play the piano, listening to one of your friends, Yuri, sing, but this fellow in front of you took passion to another level.

Tears began to obstruct your vision as you watched him reach towards the heavens with every jump. Every flex of a muscle seemed to be a part of a story only he knew how to tell, but the story was magnificent and you could not look away.

It ended with him pirouetting before landing on one knee, an arm stretched towards you.

The music ended and the only thing that could be heard was his hard breathing.

“That… that was beautiful.” Beautiful could not cover base to how life altering watching him perform was. He was beyond that, he was something no word could yet define.

“Thank you,” he grinned and bowed humbly.

“No, I’m… I’m serious. I don’t think I have ever seen anything that passionate before in my entire life, and my father lives and breathes music. You are truly talented.”

You watched him bite his lip and scratch the back of his head before repeating, “thank you.”

“No, thank you,” That sounded so cheesy out loud, but you really wanted to thank him for showing you that. You wiped away the tears that had fallen from your eyes and laughed at yourself, “I swear I don’t usually cry watching people dance. Only if I’m moved enough.”

“I moved you?” He asked. You noticed the teasing tone in his voice, but also surprise, as if he didn’t believe he was that good.

“To tears,” You confirmed, holding your hands out to show him the salty wetness on them.

“Thank you,” he repeated yet again, and you blinked up at him.

“For what?”

“For helping me with that turn. Also for letting me know just how good I am. Sometimes you need other people besides those who are always telling you to realize your potential, you know?”

“Absolutely. I definitely understand. I remember when I was first learning how to play the viola, and my father was constantly telling me how good I was, but I felt like I wasn’t adequate. It took my best friend to finally make me realize that maybe I was worthy of the instrument.”

The sweaty ballerina just stared at you for a moment, and you grew embarrassed. Were you talking too much? You were definitely talking too much. This is why you only had two friends growing up.

“You can come watch me practice whenever you want,” he suddenly allowed. His smile grew at your shocked expression. “I realize now I enjoy the company, and you can probably help me on some things. So… whenever you want, if I’m here, don’t be shy.”

He said all of that without even glancing at you, but you could tell the sincerity in his voice. Plus, you found it endearing how he dug the ground with his toes.

It was your turn to repeat yourself, “thank you.”

~*~

You ran all the way to your dorm after art, eager to get this off your chest.

You felt kind of bad that Suho wasn’t the person you wanted to talk to about the matter, but this was strictly a girl thing, and you knew he wouldn’t understand.

“Luna!” You practically screeched when you finally slammed the door to your bedroom open, scaring the living daylights out of your roommate.

“Jesus!” she cried, throwing the magazine she was peacefully reading on her bed onto the floor. “What’s gotten into you?!”

“I’m in like,” You breathed, falling unto your bed with a longing sigh.

“In like?” she questioned.

“Yes. With a beautiful ballerina.”

“Ballerina?”

“It’s a guy,” you clarified, rising up to meet Luna’s gaze. She was grinning from ear to ear, leaning in closer.

“Well, spill it!”

You told her about the mystery dancer who just so happened to be drop dead gorgeous and wanted your company.

“Wow, that is so romantic! What is his name? Maybe I know him.”

“It’s…” Your smile melted off with the realization that you in fact had no name for the face you most definitely would be dreaming of later tonight.

“You don’t know?” Luna’s eyes widened and than she gasped, “that’s even more romantic! It’s like Cinderella! Does he know yours?”

You shook your head and she threw a pillow up in the air. It hit the ceiling before landing on the floor behind her, next to her long forgotten magazine. “Oh my god! The two of you are so mysterious! That is so hot.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. You’ve grown quite close to Luna this past week; she was someone you really needed in your life.

“You have to keep me posted on the development on your unfolding love story. And don’t forget who was there in the beginning when you have to pick a maid of honor for your wedding!”

“Oh, I will def keep you up to date.”

~*~

Sadly, there was nothing to report back to Luna.

Classes started to add pressure the rest of the week, and you were so swamped in schoolwork, that you had no time to eat a normal meal, let alone watch someone dance for a couple hours. you even had a test in art!

When Friday came around, all you wanted to do was relax, but Suho had other plans for you.

“Come on! We haven’t seen each other all week! I miss my bestie!”

“I miss you too, but I’m so tired,” you complained, rolling around in your bed for affect.

“We are all tired, we’re college students.”

“Why can’t you hang out with your roommate? I’m sure he will keep you company.”

“He is hanging out with me. I’m trying to expose you to more people,” You could hear the annoyance in his voice.

“I don’t need more friends. You’re like five friends put together!”

“Please,” Suho whimpered, muttering your name softly. You tensed, knowing what he was doing. “We haven’t seen one another in five days and I just really need my best friend right now. Is that a crime? Is wanting to see you such a bad thing?”

He sighed when you remained silent, “fine. I won’t bother you anymore. Take your nap and be a loser for all your life, but don’t call me when you finally want to settle down, because I would have moved on with a new bestie by then.”

“Fine!” You cried, hopping off your bed. “Jesus, Suho! I’ll hang out with you, damn!”

He chuckled and you heard a muffled ‘works every time’ before he was back in your ear, “you have ten minutes. Dress really cute, we’re going somewhere fun. You better be waiting for us when we get there.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” You hung up before he could guilt you into doing something else you didn’t want to do and slumped over to your closet.

Suho’s definition of really cute was a scary concept, and it made you wonder where he was dragging you. He loved heels and thigh highs. You always joked and told him he was a subtle pervert, and he would reply by simply shrugging, tilting his head to get a good view of the girl he had his eye on at the time.

You groaned and yanked the clothes you knew he was already picturing in his head before getting ready.

Six minutes later, you were standing outside the dorms in a thin pink dress, black tights, chunky black heels, and a glare.

True to his word, Suho was in front of the dorms ten minutes after your call ended. He stepped out of the passenger side of a very expensive looking black car, dressed in dark jeans and a sky blue button down, and you knew that you were dressed accordingly.

His grin grew into a full-blown smile as he took you in, “you never disappoint.”

“Shut up, you perv,” You retaliated. He just laughed, continuing walking up to you. Once you were right in front of each other, he pulled you into a hug and you soon felt a tugging at your hair.

Suho pulled away with a satisfied grin, “you look prettier with your hair down.”

“What is this?” You snapped, as he ruffled your brown hair that he had released from the ponytail you had it in seconds ago. “Are you trying to hook me up with someone?”

“I might be, but I just want you to have fun tonight. You have to dress good to feel good.”

“I mean, I guess?” You let him drag you over to the car. He opened the backseat door for you and helped you get in before crawling back to the front. There were two males sitting to your left, both incredibly handsome and one behind the wheel.

Suho called you and you glanced at him, really nervous. You usually felt at ease around the opposite sex, but Suho made you dress up, and it made you self-conscious, especially since all the men in the car were good looking.

Not as fine as your little ballerina, you thought suddenly, and you felt your cheeks heat up. They definitely weren’t that pleasing to the eyes.

You blinked, quickly focusing back at Suho. He had his hand on the driver’s shoulder, “This is my roommate, Kris, and those two sitting next to you are Kim Jongdae and Do Kyungsoo.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said, nodding towards them. They all nodded in return and you zoomed off to some unknown place.

“Jongdae and Kyungsoo are singers,” Suho informed as you continued driving. “And Kris here is an actor. They all have scholarships and are top of their classes.”

“Why must you talk us up like this?” The one furthest to the window whined. He had a cute voice and a cat like curve to his lips that you couldn’t help but stare at.

“It’s alright,” you began. “It’s in his nature. He’s like a proud father.”

“This girl right here,” he started, and you rolled your eyes. “Is one of the best viola players in the country, if not the continent! She also draws, plays other instruments, and sings.”

You shook your head rapidly, “please do not tell professional singers that I sing, Suho. That’s embarrassing.”

He simply shrugged, “how many times have you sung the lyrics to my compositions?”

“I’m not sure anymore, Suho,” you sighed, your gaze flickering to the singers beside you. They looked intrigued, and you wanted to shrink.

“Exactly, because it’s been too many times to count. If it had been up to me, I would have given you the songs to record. I write them for you anyway.”

“Gross,” you cried, kicking his seat. Sometimes he said things that made it seem as if you were closer than you actually were. It was a habit you were trying to get him out of.

It was around ten when Kris—who had been silent throughout the entire ride there—pulled into a karaoke bar.

“Damn,” you muttered under your breath. Suho was toying with you the entire ride there, the bastard.

“What was that?” The smaller boy beside you, Kyungsoo, asked. His voice was deeper than you had thought it would be at first glance and his wide eyes and plump lips made him seem older than you would have originally thought, more mature.

“I should have known we would be singing,” you said a bit louder to him, although you pushed your knee deep into the back of Suho’s seat.

“And drinking,” the guy near the window, Jongdae, winked at you playfully and you sighed with both content and relief, because he was really cute and you really needed a drink.

“Good,” you breathed as you all headed out.

You followed the guys into the bar, and was led into probably the biggest room you had ever seen in one of these places. It was already filled with about six other people, both male and female.

You felt pressure on your arm and lips at your ear. “Don’t be afraid to make friends, and maybe even get a bit touchy if you want,” Suho winked at you and you grimaced. What was up with him today?

There were only two other girls in the room, and you quickly ran to sit beside them, introducing yourself quickly. They were Hyeri and Hyorin. There was a guy singing a Super Junior song, and he was really good. You just sat silently as everyone got comfortable. Jongdae soon appeared with around four huge bottles of liquor, while Kyungsoo scuttled behind him with shot glasses.

“Whose ready to turn up!” Jongdae’s high-pitched voice rang loudly over the commotion of the room, and everyone—including yourself—cheered. Jongdae and another boy who you weren’t acquainted with poured the shots, while Kyungsoo handed them out. You were the last one to receive a glass, and he sat beside you with a shy smile. You returned it and waited for one of the shorter boys in the room to give the toast speech, “to freshman! To the beginning of the rest of our lives!”

You all held your glasses up high before tilting your heads back and downing the liquid fire with grimaces and coughs.

Liquor made you friendly, to put it simply. It also made you extremely confident, yet also very uncoordinated. You took six more shots of the strongest stuff Jongdae had to offer, and before you knew it, you were singing a duet with one of the boys named Byun Baekhyun. It was an intense balled, and you acted the part, even pressing against each other, his arm around your waist while one of your hands were on his cheek as you both shared his microphone.

You gathered hoots and hollers and you just laughed and laughed when the song ended. He gave you a wink and carried you off the small platform, making you sit on his lap back on the couch.

“You’re fun,” He yelled into your ear, his voice deep enough for you to feel warm from the compliment.

“You give good speeches,” you replied, remembering him giving the toast earlier.

“You sing very well,” he countered.

“Well… you’re very handsome.”

His smile was a million watts.

~*~

(Another lil snippet that I haven’t even gotten to plot wise but I had a Vision™ and wrote it down before I forgot, to give you better insight on what I'm trying to do here haha)

“Jongin….”

“Oh no, silly girl, I’m not Jongin,” his eyes remained piercing into your soul as he pushed a chunk of your hair back behind your ear just to whisper, “I’m Kai.”

You blinked up at him, “who?”

“Kai,” he clarified. “Jongin’s twin brother.”

It was silent for a moment and then you burst out laughing, pushing his shoulder. He looked at you stunned, “stop playing, Jongin. What kind of joke is this?”

He raised an eyebrow, “It’s not a joke, plus, Jongin’s sense of humor wouldn’t allow him to play such a prank. Maybe when we were younger and used to switch classes for the day, but ever since college, all that boy’s focused on is the art.”

“The art?”

“Dancing.”

“Oh… oh!” Your eyes widened as you remembered asking Jongin about his hiphop routine. Your eyes flashed up to the Jongin in front of you, “you were the one doing the hiphop routine!”

He smirked and nodded boldly, “That I was.”

“Shit, you’re telling the truth.”

“Duh. I’m not a liar. But, it seems like Jongin might be…..”

#kai scenarios #kai scenario #exo scenario #exo scenarios #kai drabble #kai drabbles #exo drabbles #exo drabble #kai oneshot #kai oneshots #exo oneshot #exo oneshots #kai

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snarkwrites · 4 years ago

Text

-- masterlist -- archived, 2020

[18+ advised ] This is going to be long af. I’m going to do my best to put everything - all my writing on this blog, in one goddamn place, but I make no promises, so forgive me in advance. Below the cut is everything I’ve written and posted, for every single fandom I’ve written for so far. If [mature] or [suggestive] is present in the title/post, 18+ only. If you’re looin for y/n here, you won’t really find it. I prefer to use oc’s in writing most of the time because it’s easier for me.

** the titles in bold and not linked I either haven’t written or I’ve lost the link for. jsyk. I do that so that when/if I get around to writing something, it’s already got a place. It’s weird, I’m weird.**

If you want to be on the taglist for my writing, you can find that [here]. If you want to know what I write / how often I write and stuff like that, my faq/about post is [here]

--𝔸𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕟 ℍ𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕠𝕣 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪

[ 1984 ]

xavier plympton - cherry popped | spring | mature.

--ℂ𝕊𝕀

[ Miami ]

eric delko - tba | fall/winter | mature.

tim speedle - perfect | spring | mature.

[ Vegas ]

greg sanders - tba | fall/winter | mature.

-- 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕧𝕖𝕝 ℂ𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕔 𝕌𝕟𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕖

[ Avengers ]

bucky barnes - slippery when wet | winter | mature.

captain america - choke me | winter | suggestive.

pietro maximoff - faster, baby | spring | mature.

[ Guardians Of The Galaxy ]

starlord - eat me | spring | mature.

[ Venom ]

eddie brock - milf isn’t a bad word | spring | mature.

-- ℝ𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕕𝕒𝕝𝕖

archie andrews - tba | summer/fall | mature.

jughead jones - tba | summer/fall | mature.

reggie mantle - yours | summer | mature.

sweet pea - selfish | summer | mature.

--𝕊𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕆𝕗 𝔸𝕟𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕙𝕪

juice ortiz - needed me | spring | mature.

--𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤

billy hargrove - tba | summer/fall | mature.

jonathan byers - surrender | summer | mature.

steve harrington - wet | summer | mature.

steve harrington - disaster | summer | mature.

--𝕊𝕦𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕝

dean winchester - tba | summer/fall | mature.

kevin tran - tba | fall / winter | suggestive.

sam winchester - tba | summer/fall | mature.

-- 𝕋𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥

embry call - tba | summer/fall | mature.

jacob black - found you | spring | mature.

paul lahote - tba | summer/fall | mature.

-- 𝔽𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕒𝕪 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕃𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤

matt saracen, remember you young by thomas rhett | angst & fluff / reunion

-- 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤

jonathan byers, i think i love you | fluff. two best friends admitting their feelings for each other. an au take on my oc pairing with Steve Harrington, so an au of an au oops rip.

steve harrington, blindsided | fluff and awkward cute first kisses,ftw.

-- 𝟙𝟚 ℝ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕤 𝟛: 𝕃𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟

jon shaw - galentines / be my valentine - ex lovers, drinking tw, intense fluff.

-- 𝔸𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕟 ℍ𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕠𝕣 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪

[ Apocalypse ]

michael langdon - moon dance - a witch and her dance under the moon captivates Michael Langdon. sexual tension, ftw.

-- 𝔸𝕣𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕖

[ Legends Of Tomorrow ]

ray palmer - back where you came from - time travel, mutual crushes

ray palmer - bachlorette party gone wrong or right - flirty first meeting at a bachelor party

ray palmer - villainesses want heroes - a good guy with a bad girl? more likely than you think.

-- ℂ𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕝𝕖 ℝ𝕠𝕔𝕜

dennis zalewski - photo booth montage - angst / hurt comfort, major character death & mourning, ghosts.

the kid / henry deaver - you were different - alternate universe personas reunite, intense makeout ensues.

--𝔻ℂ ℂ𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕔

[ Suicide Squad ]

captain boomerang - expecting someone taller - first date / blind date.

-- 𝔽𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕒𝕪 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕃𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤

landry clarke - if i only had a brain | someday my prince will come - tutor turned friend turned crush. kissing and stuff.

tim riggins - wedding bell blues | so this is love - a wedding brings two people closer and the end result is Riggins, settling down.

tim riggins - voice like honey - tim flirting with a new girl in Dillon? the chances are more likely than you think.

-- 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕧𝕖𝕝 ℂ𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕔

[ Avengers ]

bucky barnes - girls,girls,girls - bucky’s omega likes to dance. and to offer herself up as bait. bucky doesn’t like this... intense heated conversation ensues.

captain america - no selfies in the bathroom please? - oh, nothing but Steve Rogers and an OC flirting over the phone. Innuendo towards the end if you squint.

[ Punisher]

frank castle - patient of the week - patching up Frank isn’t the only thing she longs to do. A kiss is shared.

-- 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤

lip gallagher - wedding crasher | the nanny and the professor - lip and his girl and their ups and downs. They go from him crashing her wedding drunk to the two having a night of domestic bliss.. and a kid. mildly suggestive the second part is.

-- 𝕊𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕆𝕗 𝔸𝕟𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕙𝕪

juice ortiz - crow flies | rough rider | treat you as good as my leather - snippets from the relationship between juice and my OC, Hazel Teller.

juice ortiz - glass houses | throwing stones - more from relationship between Juice Ortiz and Hazel Teller, tbh.

-- 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤

billy hargrove - let the days go by - flashbacks to a first meeting as an OC mourns Billy’s supposed death post S3.

jonathan byers - should’ve been a better shot - Tommy H’s girlfriend (not Carol, an oc) is getting more than a little sick of being Tommy’s property. Kissing Jonathan Byers seems like a good way to end that and to let jonathan know that she likes him a lot. Fluff/humor, warnings of Tommy H being his usual asshole douchenozzle self.

steve harrington - glass houses | throwing stones, this is set in the now main au timeline I have for Steve Harrington and my original character Charlotte Granger.

-- 𝕊𝕦𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕝

crowley - the witching hour - just a father/daughter heart to heart with Poppy. family bonding ftw. [ goes with pop goes my heart tangentially]

dean winchester - pop goes my heart - poppy gets under his skin in all the wrong ways AND all the right ones.

dean winchester - gingerbread family - the boys find themselves waking up to Christmas as a totally normal family. How will they react to the things they find themselves able to do at last?

sam winchester - heaven knows - his guardian angel only wanted to protect him. now she’s been banished to earth and she’s mortal. and they wind up flirting / getting closer.

sam winchester - candy apple kisses | gingerbread family - sam never forgot about her. maybe that’s why as a result of a wish he and dean may or may not have both made, he wakes up to find himself married to her.

-- 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕎𝕒𝕝𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕕

[ The following ones are all part of this huuuuge everchanging universe/storyline that I have with BOTH men, for my OC Evie. In some, she’s with Daryl, in others, Shane. They’re all wildly canon divergent and all over the place, lmao.]

daryl dixon - watch the world burn [married au] | a vision from a sugarplum fairy | garden by the sea - a series of alternate takes / twists and moments between my OC Evie Grimes and Daryl Dixon.

shane walsh - scream queen [reunited lovers au] | sweet morning rose | you and your high horse - a series of alternate takes/twists and moments between my OC Evie Grimes and Shane Walsh.

-- 𝕋𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥

jacob black, one day more, angst |

-- ℂ𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕝 𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕤

derek morgan x -being roommates with |

-- 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕧𝕖𝕝 ℂ𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕔 𝕌𝕟𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕖

sam wilson / falcon x - dating falcon |

CSI MIAMI;

tim speedle [ d m y ] | [ b o u ] | [ c e k ] | j w x | l f |

STAR WARS;

kylo ren [ k l r ] |

CSI: Las Vegas;

CSI:Miami;

m i n e | tim speedle x former lover!OFC, Sylvie | genres : suspense/action, romance/fluff, hurt comfort, angst, slow burn | chapters : [ one two pt 1 two pt 2 three three pt 2 ] | soundtrack: here | warnings: slow burn, crime / stalker tw, other themes and eventual smut/sexual content tw, [discontinued to be rewritten]

Riverdale;

gangsta | sweetpea x Andrews!SiblingOFC, Alyssa | genres: teen angst - drama, suspense, hurt comfort, romance, slow burn | chapters: one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten- eleven - twelve - thirteen - fourteen - | soundtrack: here | warnings: fighting / swearing, sexual tension, awkward situations & eventual smut.. your typical high school overdramatic bs. Bit of an au because I only plan to loosely follow the series. | [ discontinued to be rewritten ]

Sons Of Anarchy;

home | juice ortiz x Teller!OFC, Hazelynn | genres: action / suspense, hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, romance, smut | chapters: one - two - three - | soundtrack: here | warnings: slow burn, heavy sexual tension, violence and other adult themes, alcohol / drugs / illegal activities, sex worker ofc tw, sexual content eventually | [ being rewritten to be reposted soonish ]

Stranger Things;

upside down | steve harrington x OFC, Jenny | genres: teen angst - drama, suspense, hurt comfort, friendship, fluff, action, | chapters: one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - | soundtrack: here | warnings: fighting / swearing, sexual tension, awkward situations & eventual smut... your typical high school drama + science fiction-y type misadventures,lmaoo. | [discontinued to be rewritten]

#multifandom writing masterlist #masterlist multifandom #multifandom fanfiction #multifandom fanfic writer

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heyyyharry · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 8: The Blacksmith’s Son

(from ‘The Conman and the Maid’ Series)

…in which Y/N meets Harry’s family and his first love.

Word count: 6.3k

AU: princess!y/n, conman!harry, prisoner!harry.

Series description: Y/N is a princess and Harry is a prisoner in her castle. With his help, she escapes from her arranged marriage in search of a happy ending, if there is one.

Wattpad link (original character Reyna as Y/N)

Hemera, the capital of the kingdom of Theros, was one of the largest and richest cities in the world, as the inhabitants were mostly merchants. It was assessed through gates, enclosed by a protective wall, and punctuated with towers and arrow slits, therefore, was the safest and most dangerous place to be in a war.

If the enemies had taken over the castle, these were the first people whose blood would spill. The thought made Y/N shiver as she entered through the gate. Was it concerning that it was the first thing to cross her mind?

Shaking her head, she rode Thunder faster to catch up with Harry. Not a single person knew who she was as they passed her like she was one of them. Harry glanced over at her with a look of confusion on his face. If only she could explain to him why she couldn't stop smiling, but all she could do was ask him to slow down. They weren’t being chased anymore, at this moment at least.

The city was crowded with buildings. Situated at the centre the tall spire of a church. People on the streets wore colourful clothes, and there were indistinct conversations and laughter everywhere.

Y/N hadn’t been allowed to look outside her carriage when she’d come here with her family, so this almost felt like the first time she was here. As they travelled past some dancers on the main street watched by admiring ladies, one of the men handed her a rose and kissed her hand. Fascinated, she asked Harry if they could stay and watch. But he only gave the stranger a spiteful look and urged her to go faster.

They took a turn onto a less crowded street, and he inquired, "So where does your uncle live?"

"Uh...near the castle," she mumbled.

"Where specifically?" He slowed down for her to catch up, his voice cautious, "I mean, what's the street name?"

"I don't remember the name but I remember the route from the castle. Just take me there and I'll figure it out."

"It takes a day to go from here."

As he said nothing more and stared reluctantly at her, she asked, "so...what are we going to do?"

"We can...spend a night at my house. It's only fifteen minutes away and--"

"That's great! Let's go to your house then!"

Her excitement surprised him but couldn't stop the childlike smile from spreading across his face. He gave her a signal to follow, kicked his horse and rode ahead. It was silly how she'd gone through all that trouble to see her uncle, and now she was wishing tomorrow wouldn't come too fast. What would she do when she finally made it to the castle? Would she tell Harry the truth then, or before? How would he react? Would she ever get to see him again?

Besides, she still owed him an answer. She wished she’d said no when he’d asked that night. A conman courting a princess would be so absurd. Her uncle would never allow that. The people would never allow that. How was she going to choose between betraying her title and betraying him?

Just one more night, she told herself, pretend to be Rain for one more night, and whatever happens, will happen.

"Welcome to my village," Harry said in the least enthusiastic tone she had ever heard. But as she scanned her eyes around, his tone finally made sense. This must be the poorest area in the capital. It looked like a tiny version of what was happening in Isolde during the wintertime, except there was no other excuse for these people to look angry and tired other than being poor.

She tried to keep the smile on her face so she wouldn't hurt his feelings, but it'd be a lie to say she wasn't disappointed.

"Harry!" A young woman dropped her buckets full of water the second she saw their horses from afar. Harry jumped off Lightning to catch her in his arms and lifted her feet off the ground with his strong bear hug, while she was sobbing into his neck.

"Gemma," he breathed harshly, his eyes pressed shut. That was his sister. She’d thought he was dead like all the other Southerners who’d entered Isolde. Y/N gracefully got off her horse and led Thunder toward them.

"Thank Heaven, you're still alive!" Gemma said as Harry wiped away her tears and kissed her forehead. "They told me that you were captured. How did you escape?"

"I got some help," he said, turning back to Y/N.

Gemma's eyes went wide as Y/N said hello. But before Y/N could properly introduce herself, the woman wrapped both arms around her and trapped her in a suffocating hug. "I don't know who you are, but thank you for saving his life."

Y/N looked at Harry, a smile stretching her lips. To his sister, she said, "it was your brother who saved my life."

Gemma let her go but kept both hands tight on Y/N's shoulders. "I'm so glad he met you. You're so kind and beautiful."

"Thank you," Y/N said shyly. The word 'beautiful' fitted Princess Y/N better than it did Rain. Rain -- the princess' maid, dirty hands, messy hair, wearing rags for clothes -- was far from beautiful. Still, it made her happy whether Gemma had meant it or just being nice.

After hearing the short version of what Harry and Y/N had gone through, Gemma got emotional and insisted that Y/N stayed with them for a few days. But Y/N kindly refused because she had to leave tomorrow morning.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see Harry's smile fading.

"Come inside!" Gemma tugged at Y/N's arm, pushing Harry's shoulder. "Ma will be so happy to see you."

Y/N almost forgot that he had a mother, who was sick. He'd never mentioned what illness it was, but ever since he left, Gemma had been staying at this house instead of her husband's because their mother couldn't be left alone.

Following them, Y/N slipped through the curtains into a room dimly lit by sunlight from a square window above the bed, where lay Harry's mother.

"Ma, look who's home," Gemma said.

Y/N stood by the entrance, hand wrapped around Harry's forearm. Flashbacks ran through her mind, and she saw herself rushing into her mother’s chamber the night her mother had passed away. The memory sent a cold shiver down her spine as she leaned closer to Harry.

His mother weakly propped herself up and sat upright with Gemma's support. The second she saw Harry's face, however, she gasped and jumped right out of the bed. Y/N let him go as a reflex, and his mother threw her arms around his neck, tears running down her face.

"Ed! My dear Ed, you're home!" she wailed and turned to Gemma. "Go get your brother, Gemma! Your father is home!"

Y/N was frozen to the spot, her mouth formed a silent 'o' as Gemma gave her a sad smile and quietly left the room. Harry kissed his mother's forehead and whispered, "I'm here, my love," in her ear, his eyes locked with Y/N's. "It's me, your dear Ed. I'm home."

Y/N had known that Harry’s childhood had been unpleasant, but this was far from what she’d expected. She should be upset that he hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her about his mother’s sickness, but she knew this wasn’t easy to talk about. His mother was mentally ill, which was why all the good doctors in the land could not cure her. She’d lost her mind since her husband had sacrificed himself to protect their family in a war between the South and the North.

She’d been right to worry. The people in the capital were always the first to suffer the consequences of war.

"Sometimes she remembers who I am. But most of the time, I'm her dear Ed," Harry chuckled, leaning a shoulder against the door while toying with the gold ring on her finger. They were outside the house, while Gemma stayed in the bedroom to keep an eye on her mother. The poor woman was finally getting some sleep without waking up every five minutes calling out her late husband's name.

"She’s been sick since I was born, but it only got worse after he’d died. The kids around here used to call her the crazy lady, and I was so ashamed of her that I even joined them and made fun of her when we ran into her on the street. Those kids didn’t know I was her son because she didn't remember me, but I always felt so shitty afterwards."

Y/N stepped closer, putting a hand to Harry's cheek as his hand rested on her lower back. "When we first met, you joked that I talked like the crazy lady in your village," she recalled, making him laugh as he wiped away a tear.

"Yeah. You still remind me of my mum." He brushed a strand of hair out of her face, his lips arched. "You're so gentle yet headstrong. In a good way, of course."

"Oh, Harry." She tiptoed, pulled his face down and kissed him with a tenderness that made her chest throb. It was a terrible idea to be affectionate towards him when she had to turn him down eventually, but she couldn't help it. She loved him.

The thought of saying goodbye and never seeing him again formed the tears that stung her eyes. When she heard his warm laughter, she glanced back up, and he cupped her face between his palms, their lips meeting again. She kissed him back. But she wasn't allowed to. She had to stop. Now.

"Harry.” She jerked away, both of them breathless. "Can you show me around?"

He rolled his eyes, bringing her hand to his chest. "There's nothing to see here, Peach. This village is like a big funeral. Because we all die a little bit every day."

Y/N swatted his chest for that joke as both of them guffawed. "Well, I'm already dressed in black." She lifted her skirt. "So would you like to be my escort to this funeral?"

"That'd be my pleasure, Lady Peach." He intertwined their fingers together and kissed the back of her hand, a smile touching his pink lips.

The market was probably the most crowded place in this village. It was not very different from the ones she'd been to before, only less full, so she didn't have to worry about slipping into a sea of strangers. Most sellers were cold and distant, but there were a few nice old ladies who recognised Harry and pinched his cheeks as he stopped by.

One lady asked if Y/N was his wife. He neither confirmed nor denied it, but he did steal a glimpse at her to see her reaction. She blushed and smiled back. In the fictional world inside her head, however, she wasn't a princess, they were married, and lived happily ever after.

"There are headbands over there and you decided to buy a bloody dagger," he joked when she gave the coins to the merchant and turned back to him, swinging the pointy blade in a silly manner that made him snort.

"Be careful with that, sexy. You might hurt yourself," said the middle-aged man who owned the shop.

Before she could respond, Harry snatched the weapon from her hand and stabbed it into the desk. The wooden surface cracked down to the centre. He yanked the dagger out of the wood and tossed it to her. She caught it effortlessly. All had happened in two seconds.

"That's my wife you were talking to." Harry scowled at the man whose face was colourless. "The last person who’d messed with her got his balls cut off and fed to our dog Whiskers. Right, darling?"

Whiskers. What a funny name for a dog. "Right, my dear," she said, smiling at the man's crotch, and he recoiled behind his counter like a scared little mouse.

Harry smoothed his palm over the crack on the table, and with a smirk, took her hand and escorted her away. When they had left the market, she turned to him and pointed the tip of her blade to the opening of his shirt, batting her lashes seductively. "Was that a proposal I heard?"

That joke stopped him in his tracks. He took her hand that was holding the dagger, put the dagger back into its sheath at her waist and held her hips, drawing her closer. Their eyes locked, her heart pounding. "You still owed me an answer, Peach. One question at a time."

A thousand voices in Y/N's head were screaming no, but the butterflies in her stomach were cheering her on. Fuck it! she thought and pulled his mouth down to hers, arms tightened around his necks as his encircled her waist. A cool breeze blew through their clothes and they pulled back just a bit to catch their breath. He smelt so nice, like pine trees, wildflowers, and home.

"I kept thinking about us...at the waterfall," he whispered, his voice so husky it sent a shiver down her spine. She felt as if his fingertips were burning through the thin fabric of her shirt and trembled as she brought both hands to his face. If this was wrong, she never wanted to be right again.

"Harry, I--"

"Are we fucking on the street now?"

The voice made them spring apart. Harry kept his fingers around her wrist, staring dagger at the man in front of them.

"Gideon," he spat out the name with disgust. She’d never heard about this guy before, but from Harry's previous reaction, she assumed they weren't exactly friends.

With a contemptuous smile, Gideon made his way toward them. He was more muscular than Harry, just not as good looking. And the fabric he was wearing was expensive. He surely wasn't from here. He put his hands on his hips, looking Harry up and down. "I haven't seen you in a while. Didn't they say you were dead?"

"Let's go, Peach."

"Oooh, is this your new girl?" Gideon reached for her arm when they sidestepped him. As a reflex, Harry grabbed her dagger. She caught his wrist as Gideon bounced back, hands shot in the air.

"Don't fucking touch her or I'll cut your damn fingers off."

The threat startled her, but Gideon was unfazed; he relished Harry's anger. The bastard rubbed his chin, eyeing her up, a smirk tugging at his thin lips. "Does she feel as good as Kennedy?" His question turned her stiff. "Or should I also fuck her to find out myself?"

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"

"Harry!" She tightened her grip around Harry's waist as Gideon started walking backwards with the assholest smirk. Harry was giving him exactly what he wanted.

"You don't deserve Kenny, you piece of shit! Don't let me see you again!"

She held Harry tightly until Gideon was gone. A few villagers gave them judgemental stares as they passed by, but she didn't give a damn about them. She had never seen her Harry so enraged and violent. His face was red, the veins popped out on his neck, and his jaw and fists were clenched tight.

That must be Kenny's husband -- the rich man she'd agreed to marry because she thought Harry was dead. Was that why Harry hated him so much? Or had there been a long history between them? She hoped it was the latter. Because she wouldn't know what to do if deep down Harry still longed for the first love that had gotten away.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice was much gentler as he stared down at her with concerned eyes. There was her Harry.

"Yes. Are you?" She held his wrists while he was cupping her face.

He seemed indisposed to speak. "That bastard doesn't live in this village anymore. But you should stay away from him."

"Was that Kenny's husband?" To her disappointment, he gave her nothing but a "yes" to confirm what she already knew.

It must be difficult for him to mention Kenny in front of her. Though they weren't exactly lovers, they had been acting like it for the last couple of weeks. But if he couldn't say the name of his first love unless he was angry with whom she'd married, then she might still mean something to him. Unsettling thoughts crept back into Y/N's head. Too many fucking thoughts. Too many fucking feelings.

They arrived back at Harry's house before sunset to help Gemma with dinner. Gemma was talking to her husband outside the house. The second he saw Y/N, he ran to hug her like they were old friends.

One lesson Y/N had learned since she’d left the North was that normal people loved hugs, whereas royalty hated body contact for some reason she still couldn't figure out. It used to be so odd and uncomfortable for her, but she liked it now, very much.

Gemma's husband was a hunter. His name was Caleb. He looked older than Gemma, and borderline scary, with his big beard and many scars on his arms. But from the way he interacted with his wife, Y/N could tell he was a nice family man. Caleb and Gemma reminded Y/N of her parents somehow. The bittersweet comparison made her heart tingle.

Once the introductions were through, they came into the house and sat around the table to chat. Meanwhile, Gemma was preparing the meal in the kitchen. Y/N had volunteered to help though she had never cooked before. However, she'd learned how to use a sword, shoot arrows, and ride a horse, so cooking should be easy.

Gemma insisted that she worked alone, though. She said the men were useless and Y/N was a guest. Besides, Caleb didn't leave Y/N alone with his endless questions about her kingdom and life in her father's castle.

He said he’d never left this village and was curious to know what was beyond Wind Valley. How Harry and Y/N had crossed it was still beyond his imagination. Caleb's life must be so easy. For her, the less you knew about the world, the easier your life was.

She didn't participate much in the conversation and let Harry do most of the talking, and he seemed fine with it. He was talking happily again as if their earlier encounter with Gideon hadn't almost triggered him to kill a man. He didn't seem like himself. That was not her Harry.

The footsteps at the entrance of the house made all three of them turn their heads. In the doorway stood a young girl, a beautiful one, with long brown hair and a gentle-looking face.

Kenny. The name sprung up in Y/N's head when Harry jumped to his feet and took the girl in his arms. Her arms were locked around his neck, her eyes shut, a crease appeared between her brows as she held him closer. They stayed attached as if they were the only people in the room, and everyone else, including Y/N, had faded into dust.

Y/N's chest throbbed unpleasantly at the sight, while her fingers clawed at the wooden surface of the table.

Harry finally let go, and Kenny began to inspect his face. "I thought...I thought you were--" She slapped a hand over her mouth, too emotional to finish that sentence. Y/N's heart was rattling inside her chest when Kenny traced her fingertips across his features. Suddenly, she burst into tears and hugged him again.

He rubbed her back, laughing softly, "It's okay. I'm safe now. I'm home." That was the same tone he'd used earlier when he was talking to his mother and pretending to be his deceased dad. Almost the same words too.

Why was he talking to Kenny like that? Why did he sound like a husband reuniting with his wife? That's somebody else's wife, cried the voice inside her head. But she knew her subconscious mind didn't really care. She was only jealous of the bond they had, too embarrassed to even admit it to herself.

When Harry and Kenny finally joined them at the table, Harry's eyes met Y/N's and his beam vanished. She didn't know what it meant -- Guilt? Disappointment? Or regret? Was this the moment he finally realised he'd been living a false fantasy this whole time? Now that he finally felt something real again? The lump in Y/N's throat grew almost too big, suffocating her.

Caleb switched his eyes from Y/N, to Harry, and to Kenny, quickly catching on to what was happening, so he turned around in his seat and told Gemma, who was at the back of the house, "Kenny's here!"

"Oh, Kenny! When did you get here?"

Kenny let out a soft laugh as she arched her neck and shouted back, "Just this morning! I came to visit my mum!"

Y/N shifted her gaze from the girl to her hands on the table. Kenny didn't live in this village anymore. Harry had said that. She hoped Kenny wouldn't stay for long.

"I'm spending the night at my mother's house," Kenny said to Harry and Caleb, making Y/N's heart sink. "My hus--Gideon...has already gone back home."

Why didn't she say her husband? What was she afraid of? Harry wasn't in love with her anymore. Did she know that? The questions were pounding in Y/N's head as she thinned her lips, breathing in again.

"This is Rain," Harry finally said. Her eyes bounced from her hands up to his face to catch his smile.

Suddenly, she was angry at him. He didn't get to smile and act like he hadn't just snuggled up to another woman. Still, she turned to Kenny and introduced herself, once again saying the fake name she'd gotten tired of.

"I'm Kennedy, but everyone calls me Kenny. I'm Harry's...best friend." That little pause made such a big difference, which annoyed Y/N. Still, she kept that remark to herself.

The rest of the conversation was just Caleb asking Kenny about her family, and her answering reluctantly whenever she had to bring up her husband. Her freaking husband -- the one she was married to and would spend the rest of her life with.

Y/N was fuming inside. But once she had calmed down, it occurred to her that she and Kenny were not much different. When she reunited with her uncle, she would be royalty again, which meant she would never see Harry again, and one day have to marry a prince or a king. She would love her husband, because why would she settle for an unhappy marriage? But would she ever forget Harry, her first real love?

He was also Kenny's first real love, and maybe still Kenny's only one. She shouldn't be angry at Kenny; she should feel sorry for her, sympathise with her. Because neither of them could end up with him.

Caleb stopped his story midway as he remembered he hadn't gotten the horses back from his brother's stable. He asked Harry to go with him, promising that it wouldn't take long, and Harry was happy to help. But from the look he gave Y/N before walking through the door, she knew he worried about leaving her and Kenny alone.

Did he think she was going to hurt his precious little Kenny?

Y/N felt her stomach churn as the men departed. Silence hung over the room for what seemed like forever. Her ugly nails suddenly became so fascinating that she could continue staring at them for the rest of the night, just so she wouldn't have to chat with Kenny. They really had nothing in common but Harry. It wasn't like they would start talking about him.

"What do you think of Harry?"

But Y/N guessed she was wrong. She glanced back up, meeting Kenny's chocolate eyes, and her lips twitched slightly. "What do you mean?"

"Do you...have feelings for him?"

She appreciated Kenny's straightforwardness though it made her uncomfortable. Was this the kind of topic people who shared the same love interest normally discussed? She had never experienced anything like this before, so she hoped she wasn't making a fool out of herself.

"No," she said when she couldn't find any reason to tell the truth. She thought it was only fair that it was Kenny's turn to answer her own question. But Kenny said nothing. Instead, she complimented Y/N's delicate features and called her beautiful.

Kenny was more beautiful than her. If this girl put on an expensive gown and a crown, she could be a real princess. Princes and gentlemen would be lining up to ask for her hand. She wouldn't have to settle for that rude Gideon. Maybe then, when she had so many great options, she would leave Harry alone.

Y/N couldn't believe it. Did she really consider playing matchmaker just to get rid of Kenny? That was low for a princess. She almost didn't recognise herself.

The silence, once again, began to stretch. She was waiting for Kenny to ask about her adventure with Harry. At least Stefan, Caleb, and Gemma had. People were usually curious about the story. But Kenny didn't raise a single question. She was fine with knowing that Rain, who used to be a maid in King Willem's castle, had helped Harry out of prison, somehow they had made it back to Theros alive, and most importantly, Rain allegedly didn't have feelings for Harry. That seemed to be enough for Kenny.

The flame in the fireplace was dancing in Kenny's eyes as she spoke again, "can I tell you a secret?"

Y/N grew stiff. "A secret?"

"Yes. But you cannot tell anyone."

"But...Why me?"

"Because we just met. I'd rather be judged by someone I just met than someone I know," Kenny said, her smile fading.

Y/N straightened her back and took a deep breath. That sounded like a justified answer. But she hoped the secret wasn't something as serious as Kenny having committed murder. Y/N already had a hard time dealing with her own crimes; she couldn't take on someone else's guilt.

"I'm not here to see my mum," Kenny said, and Y/N stopped picking at her own arm. "I lied to Gideon that my mother was sick so he would let me go. He didn't care about my mother to even check on her to see if I was lying. I came because...because my sister's husband saw Harry at the gate. I had to see for myself if that was true."

Y/N didn't know what to say. A part of her had always known Kenny had come back to this village because Harry was home. To hear it from the girl only made it worse.

"My father was poor, so my mother wanted me and my sisters to marry rich. She didn't approve of Harry. She said, 'as long as I'm still your mother, you will not marry the blacksmith's son.'" Kenny raised her eyebrows as she simpered, "She was so happy to hear that he was dead. She didn't care that it nearly killed me."

Y/N knew exactly how it felt. She thinned her lips and scrutinised Kenny. Her feelings towards this girl kept shifting back and forth between jealousy and sympathy. But the next thing Kenny said sent her brain into lockdown, "I'll ask him to run away with me."

What did she mean? Ask whom to run away with her? Harry? Y/N's Harry?

"I'll ask him tonight. We'll run far away from here and start a family. And we'll come back to visit his family once in a while. I don't care about Gideon's wealth, only my mother does. He doesn't love me. And I can't love him." Kenny placed her hands over Y/N's, her voice desperate yet hopeful. "I was so relieved to know that you're only his friend. Because I could...I could never compete with you."

What was happening? Please, stop. Stop talking, please...

"I'm telling you this because I need to get it off my chest. No one has loved me the way Harry did. D-Do you...do you think he still does?"

Y/N could say no. She wanted to say no and tell Kenny to get rid of that idea because Harry was hers now. But her conscience didn't let her answer on his behalf. When did he ever say that he was hers? She had made it up all in her head because she loved him and felt possessive of him. She didn't know what he wanted. It might not be her.

She parted her lips, her breathing unsteady as Kenny squeezed her hands, asking for the answer she couldn't give. The words rolled out of her tongue before she could swallow them, "You should ask him."

"Really?" Kenny said brightly, and Y/N nodded her head, her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Thank you! I'll speak to him in private after dinner. Then, I'll ask him."

And Y/N would wait. She hoped there was ale. She would drink a lot of ale while expecting the worst.

"Kenny, can you lend me a hand?"

"Coming!" Kenny shouted back to Gemma and hurried to the back of the house. Quickly, Y/N got to her feet and rushed after her.

In the kitchen full of cooking smoke, Gemma was struggling with the steaming pot of soup while making sure the fire was going at a steady heat. Y/N didn't know how it worked. She had never watched people cook before.

She stood rigid in the doorway as Gemma asked Kenny to fry the fish. Kenny gracefully moved around the chairs and collected different ingredients on the crooked shelves. Y/N watched them carry out their tasks so effortlessly, like when she danced with her sword. Sword-fighting suddenly looked like a children's game now.

"Just leave us, Rain. You don't have to do anything," Gemma said, and Y/N should have fled right away. But she was her father's daughter. Arrogance ran in her blood. She had to go in.

"I want to help," she said and padded across the kitchen to where Gemma was standing.

"Okay." Gemma nodded her head at the raw pork on one of the dishes. "You can roast the pork."

Y/N rubbed her eyes as the smoke made them water and fumbled through the ingredients and vegetables. She had no clue how to start. How should pork be roasted? What should it be roasted with? Did you start by chopping it, or putting the ingredients on it? Wait, did you put ingredients directly on the pork, or into the pot?

"Are you looking for onions?" Kenny's voice made her spin around.

"Yes, onions!" She accepted those from Kenny. Thank you, Kenny.

She believed she had seen Stefan cut an onion before. If she wasn't engulfed in smoke, she would have recalled it already. She picked up a random knife she saw on the table, staring attentively at the round vegetable as if it was the first time she'd seen it. It was in the wrong colour! Right, she must peel its skin first.

She wiped the beads of sweat upon her brows with her sleeve and started peeling. She had to do it quickly so Gemma and Kenny wouldn't get suspicious. Once she had the white onions that looked like the ones Stefan had cooked, she picked up the knife again. Thanks to her sword skills, she chopped them perfectly and wiped her hands with a cloth.

"Here. Use this pan." Gemma handed her a pan and that was actually the first time she'd held it in her hands. But these women should not know that. She was Rain, not Princess Y/N of Isolde. Rain was a maid, who should be an expert of pans and pots.

She suppressed a smile at her own stupid joke and poured a bit of oil into the pan. Look at her. She was cooking like she'd done it since she was born. She proudly placed the pan over the fire. But right as she put the onions in, the oil splattered onto her arms and she bounced back, dropped the pan and bumped into Gemma.

The world stopped. Four eyes set on her. She stumbled over her apology and blindly reached for the pan to pick it up. The heat stung her fingertip and she jerked away, sucking the burnt finger into her mouth.

As her heart finally slowed down, she stared at the oil-covered onions on the ground. She'd not only ruined dinner, but also her dignity.

"Are you okay?" Gemma grabbed Y/N's arm, but she pulled away, her mouth wrinkled. It was meant to be a smile, but she was on the verge of tears.

When Kenny asked, "Would you like to lie down for a moment?" and told Gemma, "She's probably exhausted," Y/N almost screamed at her to shut up and stop being so nice.

She couldn't hate Kenny if Kenny was nice. Why wasn't Kenny a money-hungry monster, or only mean to her when Harry wasn't around? She wanted to hate Kenny so much. She needed a reason to believe Kenny didn't deserve Harry. But Kenny was too freaking nice to her. Kenny was perfect. And Y/N couldn't even fry onions.

Before she could utter another word, Harry's mother appeared in the doorway. The woman squealed when she saw Kenny and ran to give her a hug. "I miss you, my sweet daughter-in-law. Where's your husband? Where's my son?"

Daughter-in-law?

"Uh...He went out with Caleb. He'd be back soon," Kenny said with a smile.

Harry's mother pinched her chin. "What about your puppy Whiskers? Does he eat well?"

Whiskers? Was that the name Harry had given his and Y/N's imaginary dog? Except it wasn't theirs. It was his and Kenny's first.

Y/N could see him and Kenny telling the same joke and sketching out their bright future, where they were married and had a dog named Whiskers. That was the future they could have if they ran away tonight.

"Let's go, Ma. It's not safe for you to be here," Gemma said and led the sick woman out of the kitchen.

Kenny looked over at Y/N and lifted a shoulder. "Mama Styles doesn't know what she's talking about. She thinks I'm married to Harry."

"And you let her believe that?" Y/N blurted as she couldn't help it, but Kenny didn't seem offended at all.

"I often came over to check on her after Harry was away. I never said that I was his wife, she just assumed that I was, because I always gave her news of him to keep him alive inside her head." Kenny's jaw worked for a moment, her thick eyelashes fluttering to hold back tears. "She has a weak heart. She wouldn't have been able to handle such terrible news. I told her that he was a merchant so he always travelled and didn't have time to visit her. But she wasn't angry at him. She was happy to know that he had a decent job, and alive. She enjoyed the made-up stories about us and our dog Whiskers." Kenny paused for a moment. "We'd always said we'd get a dog."

The girl ended the last sentence with a laugh, so soft yet so destructive. It caused Y/N more pain than her burnt finger. She was burning from inside out; her heart was inflamed. This fire couldn't be put out.

Tears stung her eyes but she tried to hold them back. She wasn't going to cry in front of Kenny.

"The men are home. Let's feast!" Gemma exclaimed brightly as she dashed into the kitchen, putting an end to the depressing atmosphere.

Y/N carried the dishes outside to set the table. Her footsteps faltered when she heard Harry's voice and saw him come in through the front door. He smiled at her. And she smiled back. She felt like crying again.

Dinner was awful. Not the food. The food was great -- though there was no fried onion because Y/N had wasted the last ones -- everyone's exuberance was what made it so awful. Even though her stomach was growling, she ate very little.

Harry's mother paused the conversations a few times to ask, "who's this girl?" Y/N had lost count of the times she'd repeated her fake name, but the old woman still couldn't remember it. She already had a daughter-in-law, anyway. Why should she remember the name of a stranger?

When dinner was over, Y/N helped Gemma clean the table. She overheard Kenny ask Harry to meet her outside but decided to turn a blind eye to them and return to the kitchen. She busied herself washing the dishes. She was less clumsy when she was sad, which was a good thing. She finished the work quickly without breaking anything and then excused herself to go back to her room.

'Room' was such a fancy word. It was a storage place with a window. Gemma had rearranged it to leave just enough space for a dirty mattress on the floor. But Y/N didn't mind. It was still better than sleeping in the woods.

She sat on the mattress, hugging her knees to her chest and letting her worries consume her. She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there when the wooden door creaked open and warm light split her face into matching halves. Harry stepped in and shut the door again.

"Why are you sitting in the dark?" he asked in hushed tones and sat down in front of her.

"It's not dark. There's the moon."

Her answer made him smile. His eyes moved to the little window above her head. "There's the moon," he repeated as if he'd never noticed the moon before.

Seconds were ticking away in silence. Why hadn't he said anything? Did he come in to tell her what she was afraid to hear? That must be the reason why he was silent. He was trying to find the right words to break this news to her, to break her heart. How stupid she was to think she could compete with his first love.

Silence became loud. Too loud. Deafening. She had to break herself out of the prison inside her head. If this must end, he deserved to know the truth. His eyes met hers as she worked her jaw. She had spent all that time sitting here practising her speech. But with his presence, the words got stuck at the back of her throat and wouldn't come out.

Say it. Say it. Say--

"My real name is Y/N. Daughter of King Willem. Princess of Isolde."

#harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #tctm series #princess!y/n #harry styles writing #harry styles series #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles x y/n

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forevercaroline · 4 years ago

Text

Forbes chapter 1

This is a spin off of beautiful dirty rich another fic I have. I didn’t expect this first chapter to be so long but it is this is also an au. Tagging @misssophiachase, @caritobear, @crazychicke, @bearolle24, @infernal-panda, @walter-boswell428 , @karinanic, @austennerdita2533

Xxx

The forbes are the cousins of the Salvatore family one of the richest families in the world the mother’s side of the family. Where as they live in New York City the forbes reside in Bel Air California. They live in a beautiful fairy tale like gated estate with views of the Pacific Ocean and downtown Los Angeles.

Lexi Forbes wakes up in her big bedroom with white walls, a purple egg shaped chair in corner that has pillows on it, sun shining through her window above the window seat she has blankets and pillows on. After a shower in her en-suite bathroom she sits down at her vanity table and after she’s finished doing her hair which she has her long blonde hair wavy and flowing down her back and makeup which she keeps simple. She picks out a pair of teal skinny jeans a white tank top and a grey sweater with tan knee high stiletto boots and a white and tan purse. She has matched it with tan sunglasses and her rose gold diamond choker her mom gave her and a couple rings.

As she enters the breakfast room which is smaller then the dinning room. The breakfast room has double doors to go out to the front lawns. The quaint room is yellow, with flowers painted on the walls and fresh flowers in a vase on the table. Her mother designed their many homes.

She kisses her father on the cheek as she sits down next to him, Sabine a member of their staff at the mansion brings her a bowl of raspberries, strawberries and watermelon. “What are you doing today dad?”

Peter Hale Forbes has sharp cheek bones that would cut glass, his short but volumed brown hair is always styled. He always looks incredible and wears a lot of v necks. Today he has on a grey v neck and a pair of fitted jeans. Their wealth comes from his hotel’s but also the Forbes family comes from old money making 19 year old Lexi an heiress. “I’m going to check in on the hotels.”

As Lexi is bringing the last piece of fruit in the bowl a piece of watermelon to her mouth she asks, “Is your friend coming over today?”

Peter raises an eyebrow how does Lexi know about her he’s been so careful only bringing her around while Lexi was at school or out for a extended amount of time. He looks away from his breakfast of fruit; watermelon, blueberries, peaches and mango’s. “What friend are you referring too?”

Lexi pulls a orange cheetah print bra out of her purse. “The friend this belongs too, I know its not mine. The only other teenage girl here is Greta but since she’s in high school and works for us I doubt she’s helping her mom clean the mansion in cheetah print lingerie, nor any of the staff.”

Peter grabs the bra out of his daughters hand and puts it on the other side of him on the table. “Where did you find this?”

“Outside your suite couldn’t even wait till you got inside the first set of double doors. I didn’t find it Aiden did. He found it the day before we left for New York City and there was no time to bring it up then and when we got back they came with so now is the perfect time. That day I needed to finish packing and Aiden and Ethan came up with me, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye and it was that.”

Peter closes his eyes and puts his head in his hands. He knew he had to have this conversation with her eventually but he didn’t think it would be this soon. “I miss your mom everyday, But I have to learn to move on. I have been seeing a women named Alexis she beautiful, eclectic, fun I enjoy her. “

“Dad mom’s been dead for almost five years I miss her too I don’t think mom would be mad at you for moving on. I’m glad you have someone.”

As Lexi gets up Peter adds. “I forgot to mention Alexis is a escort, I don’t pay her for her time it’s not like that. There is actual feeling on both sides.”

Lexi closes her eyes and bites her lip. She knew there was a woman but she never thought there was actual feelings which she knows is wrong of her. She remembers when her grandmother Cece’s new boyfriend who is only 11 years older then her showed up a couple weeks ago and Cece introduced everyone to him that took awhile to get over, some of the grandchildren are still not over it. “I hope to meet her one day.” She leaves a kiss on her dads cheek. “I’m going to school see you later.”

Xxx

Before Lexi can leave she has to go get her two best friends identical twins Aiden and Ethan who live in their guest house but Lexi knows they like to take a morning swim.

So coming into the backyard from the kitchen she goes down the stairs off the Balcony. There is a little sitting area at the top of a slope which has long steps and water cascading in between the two staircases at the bottom of the slope there is a fountain surrounded by statues of the four seasons in their own alcove. To the right there is a bush/pathway to the pool which has a glass bottom. The 75 foot size pool is in the middle with potted trees on the sides. A table off to the side with an umbrella and chairs surrounding it, on the other side of the pool there are lounge chairs. Behind the pool is the pool house/dome.

The pool house/dome is practically another house, Its three floors. Before her mom died they would have pool parties all the time. The pool house lounge level always had drunk happy party people coming in and out of it, teen and adults alike.

The first floor is a living area is simple from the plain white and brown stripes of the wallpaper to the tan furniture. Her mom always said nobody will be looking at the walls when they enter this place. The white French style windows letting in the morning light over the navy blue curved couch underneath it with the red, white and blue striped pillows. The cushions of the couch have been washed so many times the blue has faded.

On the opposite side of the room is a fully stocked circular bar. In the middle of the room there is a tan matching table and chairs that seats eight people. Off to the side there is a door to a kitchen. Opposite the kitchen there is a doorway to a full changing room with lockers, and a floor to ceiling mirror.

When you walk into the living area the smell of popcorn and chlorine fill the air popcorn from the home theater with concession stand upstairs and chlorine from the indoor pool downstairs it never bothers anyone since they are so busy doing other stuff.

Her heels echo through the enclosed spiral staircase as she descends down to the lower level and opens the glass door to come into the indoor pool/jacuzzi room. All the rooms in the lower level have glass doors except for the sauna which has a wooden almost bamboo like door.

Aiden and Ethan are identical they are both lean and muscular and are of medium stature not only do they look alike but they have the same short reddish brown haircut which the sides of their hair are shaved shorter then the top of their hair but only by inches. Ethan is slightly taller then Aiden. They are currently in the indoor pool seeing who can do more laps. They are to occupied in competing with each other that they don’t notice Lexi. The main house and the dome are the only two homes on the estate that have spiral staircases.

Lexi, Aiden and Ethan have been best friends since they were two. Their moms were friends and Lexi’s mom had invited the twins mom over one day and she brought her two year old twins and the three have been inseparable ever since.

“Get out of the pool time for school.”

Both twins say at the same time. “Aww but mom.”

All three laugh. “You know how we all laughed when Aiden found that bra and joked my dad had a hooker.

They nod as Ethan is climb himself up out of the pool and Aiden is floating on his back to the side to get out. “Well turns out not a joke my dads been seeing a hooker named Alexis but not in a sexual payment way. There’s feelings involved. I just don’t know how to feel.”

“Aww honey we’re there for you whatever you need.”

“Yeah hon you can always stay with us in the guest house.”

Lexi smiles at them they can always make her feel better. “Thanks guys.”

Xxx

Beautiful red haired insanely smart and very social 19 year old Lydia Martin is awoken by her phone ringing. As she slides a hand out from underneath the covers and cracks an eye open to read the text from her best friend Allison Argent “Where are you? You didn’t come home last night.”

She notices the time out of the corner of her eye and her eyes widen and she quickly sits up waking the guy in bed next to her.

“Oh my god is that time I have to go.”

Lydia scrambles around his bedroom looking for her clothes from last night. As she is zipping up her ankle booties she leans back and kisses the guy in bed on the lips. “Last night was fun see you later.”

The twenty four year old brunette watches as Lydia hurries out of his apartment.

Xxx

“I had an idea.”

Lexi cuts Aiden off. “Aiden I love you I really do you and Ethan are the brothers I never had but because of your idea’s the police know where we live.”

“True but hear me out.”

Lexi pulls up to a stop sign and looks to Ethan who has the apprehension look on his face too. They both turn to look at Aiden in the backseat of the hot pink lamborghini convertible Lexi got for an eighteenth birthday present before she was driving a black Ferrari. Lexi has a couple different luxury cars and all of them are different colors. “Ok Aiden what is your idea?”

“We throw a party at the end of the year one last bash before summer.”

“Way to go Aiden you finally had a good idea.” Ethan leans back and hits his brother in the leg. Which earns him Aiden sticking his tongue out at his brother and Ethan laughing.

As the stop light turns green Lexi asks. “And where would we be having this party, I doubt there are many abandoned warehouses in Bel Air and our home yes it’s gorgeous but there are not many open area’s for people to party besides the pool.”

Aiden looks up into the rear view mirror and Lexi notices him. “I know what your thinking and I doubt people would drive a little over an hour to Montecito for a party. Even if our home there would be big enough.”

“Its a black light party and the night club would be perfect for it.”

As Lexi is pulling into a her spot behind the Kappa Kappa Gamma house on sorority row at UCLA she tells them. “I’ll ask my dad for the keys no promises he said he’s going to be out today so I might have to steal them. I love that home but it doesn’t get used often which is a shame its very beautiful.”

“All your family homes are beautiful.”

“Why are we at Kappa?”

It’s to early for anyone to be coming in and out of the house. Lexi mainly lives at the Forbes estate but some nights she spends at the sorority house. She loves being a kappa and with her friends but with the good comes the bad. “I left some lip liner here and I was looking for it this morning. See you later in psych.”

Xxx

The Kappa house is styled like an old Tuscany villa. As she is coming down the hallway from the kitchen to the stairs the front door opens and Lydia quietly comes in wearing the clothes she had on yesterday a red floral mock mini dress and black heels

Both girls hear voices calling them. One from the living room and one from the stairs.

Isaac Lahey who is tall with a lean and muscular build and dirty blonde hair that is slightly curly, and large deep set blue eyes. He is sitting in the living room in kappa waiting for his friend Erica Reyes to finish getting ready so they can go to class when Lexi walks past. Isaac has only been in America for six months and since Erica introduced him to Lexi Forbes he has thought she was so beautiful.

“Lexi hi.”

Lexi turns towards the living room and smiles at him, “Isaac are you waiting for Erica? I have to go upstairs anyway I’ll see what’s taking so long.”

Allison Argent and Malia Tate has come down the stairs and noticed Lydia just coming home. “Lydia spill, your still wearing the same clothes from last night.”

“Lydia Martin smartest women in the house is doing the walk of shame I’m so proud of you.”

Lexi puts arm around lydia’s shoulders as Lydia tells her friends. “It’s not a walk of shame and if you must know I maybe seeing someone. That is all the information I’m giving now I have to change I have class in fifteen minutes.”

Lexi opens her door to see her roommate Erica Reyes who is tall, lean and beautiful with light blonde hair and large brown eyes putting on her signature cheetah print pumps. “Isaac is downstairs, is it just me or did he get hotter?”

Erica flips her light blonde hair out from underneath her black leather jacket. ‘It’s just you, maybe you should ask him out?”

Lexi looks at her through the mirror as she puts on her pink lip liner. “Maybe I will.”

Xxx

Later that morning Lexi sits between Aiden and Ethan in psychology. “I’m going to go back to the estate for lunch and see if my dads there and get the keys to the Montecito home.”

Lydia walks past them to her seat with Allison and Malia next to her Aiden leans forward and calls out to them. “Hi Lydia.”

Lydia looks back at them and raises an eyebrow. “The answer is still no.”

Lexi and Ethan laugh. Ever since Aiden met Lydia he has asked her out multiple times and every time she has rejected him. “What is that now 112?”

“No I think it’s closer to 174. We should of kept a tally.”

Aiden glares back at his best friend and twin brother. Erica walks past them and Lexi leans over and whispers in Aiden’s ear. “Since Lydia is never going to say yes, she came into Kappa this morning doing a walk of shame. Rumor has it she is having a fling with one of the campus security guards Jordan Parrish. Maybe ask Erica out you know she’s been a little down since Stiles left for Quantico.”

He raises an eyebrow as he looks at Erica laugh at something Boyd said.

A couple minutes into class the professor has not shown up, “ If the professor doesn’t show up we’re leaving.”

Ethan leans over to his brother. “If he doesn’t show up want to go for coffee.”

Aiden nods and they both look at Lexi.“Someone rushed us out of the house this morning before we could grab anything for breakfast.”

“Not my fault you decided to go for competition rounds this morning instead of your usual fifty.”

As everyone is getting up to leave a handsome guy in tan pants, and a long white sleeve shirt comes in. “I’m your new professor, your last professor has had a mental breakdown so I will be taking over my name is Derek Hale.”

Allison leans over to Lydia. “He’s cute.”

Lydia shrugs her shoulders.

Ethan leans over to Lexi, “He is cute.”

“I think his mom is my business professor. Plus don’t you think your hands full with Jackson and Danny.”

He runs a finger down her nose. “Don’t be jealous.”

She scrunches up her face at him.

Jackson who is sitting next to Danny a couple rows in front of them looks behind him and spots Ethan they share a smile.

Xxx

Lexi pulls her car into the car gallery she notices all her father’s cars are here so he hasn’t left yet. Off of the car gallery is the temperature controlled wine room and an elevator. The elevator takes her up to the bedrooms level of the mansion which is the second floor. Her dad has the biggest bedroom on the floor. On a daily basis only two of the eleven bedrooms get used.

Peter Forbes’ bedroom has two sets of double doors, the first set opens up to a little hallway with a private elevator that almost never gets used, and extra shelving. The second set of doors opens up into the bedroom across from double doors are three sets of double doors to go out to a balcony. The amount of natural light coming into the room makes the black silk sheets shine. Across from the bed is a marble two sided fireplace and tv. On each side of the marble is a black bench.

As Lexi’s perfectly painted purple sparkly nails wrap around the first set of door knobs her phone rings with one hand she reaches in her back pocket and grabs her phone while turning the knob. It’s a text from Isaac. ‘My next class is not for another two hours I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch or coffee.’

‘I’m not on campus right now but will be back soon I’d love to do lunch or coffee. I’ll text you when I get back.’

She is focused on her phone when she opens the second set of doors and walks into her fathers room. “Hey dad. The keys to the-“ Lexi finishes her text and puts her phone back in her pocket. “Oh my god.”

The black silk sheets are all messed up because her father is on top of a brunette very pretty woman who she assumes is Alexis and thrusting into her.

Lexi looks up to the ceiling. “Put some clothes on. I have a simple question, I’ll just wait downstairs.” As she is walking backwards she announces. “Nice to meet you Alexis.”

“Door.” As Peter is rolling off her and pulling the sheet over both of them.

Lexi nods but to late she hits the side with her back. “I’m ok.”

Xxx

Peter scrambles out of his bed and grabs his jeans. He finds his daughter in her room throwing clothes in a bag. “What are doing?”

“I can’t sleep here tonight, I also can’t get the image of you thrusting into that woman out of my head.”

“Her name is Alexis, and when I told you about her this morning you didn’t seem to have any problems and you were nice just now to her.”

Lexi turns back to her father who never did grab a shirt so he’s in fitted blue jeans and nothing else. “I was faking it. I had other things on my mind when you told me. Thankfully my business class is in the morning because there is no way I would of focused on that test after this. I’m tempted to skip my afternoon class I’m so traumatized but I have a coffee date and I drove Ethan and Aiden so I can’t.”

Peter rubs his forehead this family can be so dramatic. The whole family the whole Forbes/Salvatore family is one big rich dramatic family. “This is not how I wanted this to go. Also where are you going to sleep?”

“I’ll sleep at the sorority house or the guest house. What do you mean you never wanted it to go this way. How did you want this to go?”

Peter is leaning against the wall just inside her bedroom with his arms crossed and his toned physic on display. “Eventually I wanted to invite her over and have you two meet. Did you only have morning classes?’

Lexi is still in her big walk in closet where her clothes are sorted into sections of party clothes, tops, pants/skirts/shorts, dresses, sweaters/jackets. The back wall is just one big shoe rack with heels, wedges, boots. All her jewelry is in the glass top island in the middle of the closet. Her belts are hung up on each side of the shoe wall.

“No my next class is not till 1:30 I need the keys to the Montecito home we were thinking of throwing a end of the year beginning of the summer party.”

“We meaning Aiden?”

Lexi nods, “We meaning Aiden had the idea but after telling us Ethan and I thought it was a good idea. A black light party in the night club would be perfect. Think about it live band on the polo field black light party in the nightclub. Plus the home does not get used enough to this party would really show the home some love.”

“I don’t like that this was Aiden’s idea, let’s hope this does not end with the Montecito police being called. The keys are in my office. What is it about Alexis you do not like.”

She turns back to her dad she can’t believe this question she barely knows the woman. “Other then the fact that I hardly know her and then see her getting rammed by my dad. She looks a couple years older then me and our names are similar.”

“She’s twenty six almost twenty seven I didn’t even realize the name thing.”

Lexi picks up her bag and as she is leaving she notes. “Why is this a theme in this family Cece cougar is with Chris who is thirty, you and Alexis who twenty six and a half, and Uncle Sawyer who has had sex with a hooker too.... Maybe the same one.”

Lexi gets halfway down the stairs when Peter calls after her. “We are not done with this get back here.”

The blonde turns around on the white with black and brown fabric spiral staircase. Her father is coming down to meet her. The light is shining on them through the three windows on the side of the stairs and there is a chandelier hanging from the cathedral high ceiling of the white marble grand foyer showering the grand foyer in natural light.

“I’m not a cougar like Cece, Alexis and I there is a relationship there. You know not to bring up Uncle Sawyer. Plus for us to have the same woman he would have to stay in the same place for more then a few days.”

“He’s been in Europe for a while, can you blame him for not wanting to come to America his money was withheld from him and he was in that plane crash. Are you forgetting Alexis is a hooker she sleeps with men for money and makes them feel good about themselves while she does. I do not want you to get hurt when you realize this.”

While the two forbes are on the stairs having this conversation their staff is busing around the estate some are cleaning, some are making food but nobody wants to go into the foyer.

Peter puts a hand on his daughters upper arm it’s just been the two of them for almost five years. No matter how old Lexi is she is always going to care and want to protect her dads feelings. His wife and her mom’s death hit them both hard.

“She’s an escort she is not just playing me. I know what I’m doing.”

Lexi nods. “Why couldn’t you decide to sleep with the sorority house mom Melissa or anyone else.”

Peter laughs “You know us forbes we don’t fall for the boy or girl next door.”

“True Aunt Liz is dating a drug kingpin.”

“That wedding when it happens will be interesting.”

XXX

Erica, Lydia, Allison and Malia are walking Greek row back to the house when they see campus patrol officer Jordan Parrish, young twenty four brunette Parrish. “Good after noon ladies. Miss Martin I found this on the ground and was wondering if it was yours?”

Parrish holds out a gold bracelet that Lydia was wearing last night as she takes it they share a smile. Alison Erica and Malia are watching this and once Parrish walks past them all three girls look at the red head. “Oh my god you and Jordan Parrish.”

“ Scandalous.”

“He’s hot.”

Lydia puts a finger up to her lips “Will you please keep it down.” They are passing Kappa Kappa Theta who tries to compete with Kappa Kappa Gamma. They do not need the president of Theta Hayden Romeo knowing this piece of gossip to use against Lydia and Gamma.

Once they get past Theta Lydia keeping her voice down tells her friends “Yes I’ve been seeing Jordan Parrish. “

All three girls get a text from their house mother Melissa McCall. “House meeting 3’o’clock.”

Kira is in Japanese history when her phone vibrates.

Xxx

Peter runs a hand through his hair before he returns to his bedroom expecting to find Alexis waiting for him in bed but the bed is empty, he glances in his big walk in closet his side is full of clothes his wife’s side is empty. A year after her death Lexi and him mustered up the courage to clean out her side of the closet they sold of the clothes but kept most of it and is now in storage.

He finds Alexis in his big en-suite bathroom she is in his bathtub which is full of bubbles. He bends down next to her. “I’m sorry about that earlier.”

She smiles at him and cups his chin with her hand which is dripping water on the floor. “Usually it’s the wife that walks in this is the first time a daughter has walked in on me.”

“How would you like to meet her?”

Her eyes widen and she drops all flirtation. “Excuse me she just walked in on us and you want the three of us to have a sit down dinner family style.”

Peter lets out a sigh and reaches out to push back a piece of her brunette hair behind her ear. “Of course not but maybe a actual meeting where nobody is caught having sex.”

Alexis puts her hand on her chin on the side of the porcelain tub. “She is not going to accept me. I doubt she will even take me serious I’m an escort who is dating her father.”

Xxx

While driving back to campus Lexi is tapping her finger against the stirring wheel, her phone rings but she’s busy driving so she doesn’t answer. When she gets back to Campus and meets Isaac at one of the coffee carts and after they get their coffee’s they both get French vanilla Frappuccino’s.

They sit down and while Isaac is talking about how he loves California he misses London Lexi is tapping her finger against the cup. “Are you ok?”

His voice pulls her out the trance she was in while he was talking she didn’t mean for it to happen. “Huh... oh yeah just a lot on my mind and Ethan and Aiden have a class I can’t tell them.”

Isaac feels bad for the sad blonde in front of him he likes her and he wishes she would confine in him. “Maybe I can help.”

She smiles at him it’s sweet he is offering to help her. “ Thanks maybe another time I will take a hug if your offering.”

They stand up and Isaac wraps his arms around her and she snuggles her head into his neck and he can feel her breath of relief during their hug.

Xxx

As Peter is walking her to the door something has been bugging him since Lexi mentioned he knows she brought it up tp hurt him but he has to know. “By any chance have you ever been with a tall, attractive I guess, super annoying, egocentric, has nicknames for everyone, blonde shaggy hair, wears leather jackets or button up shirts, probably conned you out of some money guy named Sawyer?”

Alexis stops at the front door and thinks about it everyone before Peter was a one and done. Peter is the first where they come back to each other and she enjoys him. “I don’t think so why do you know a Sawyer?”

Peter smirks as he open the door but she doesn’t see. “No.”

Xxx

House meeting always take place in the living room. There is a very open living layout of the house. There is a fireplace which is not used often since California and two couches with a table between them. There are a few chairs in the room too, two in front of the windows and one on the other side of the room in the corner. Above the fireplace there a photo of everyone in the house in front of the house.Lexi and Erica are always next to each other during house meetings and usually leaning against the pillars on each side of the entrance of the living room. Allison and Lydia are sitting in the chairs in front of the windows and the other girls are filling into the room. When everyone is there house mom Melissa McCall who is a mom to all the young ladies in the house but also a trained nurse and helps out in the hospital part of the school. Her long brown curly hair is dangling over her shoulders as she addresses all the ladies.

“Friday night is movie night and our annual sisters retreat is coming up where do you girls want to go.”

“Vegas.” Malia looks down at Lydia since Malia is sitting on the arm of her chair. “We all know she wants to go to Vegas to gamble.” Lydia nods.

“Mexico.”

Melissa looks over at the two girls sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, “Not twenty one and let’s keep it in America.”

“Aspen.”

“Who knows how to ski or snowboard.”

Half of the girls raise their hands including Lexi, Erica, Allison, Lydia and Malia and her roommate Kira.

Erica leans over to Lexi and whispers. “I remember the last time we went to aspen us, the twins and your parents for winter break. We had so much fun.”

Lexi smiles at the memory then gets sad because that was their last winter with her mom. “We did have a lot of fun. My dad is thinking of selling the place since we haven’t been there in a while.”

“Aspen it is, Now does anyone have any homes in Aspen or are we staying in a hotel?”

Most of the girls look up at Lexi. Some of the girls are jealous that Lexi has so much money and can have anything she wants on the outside looking in her life looks perfect little do they know her life is more dramatic then perfect. Her life may not be as dramatic as her cousins in New York City but she still deals with dramatic moments.

Melissa notices the young ladies look at Lexi. She’s heard their snide comments about Lexi, Melissa is privy to all the gossip in the house. As house mother Melissa is to care for these ladies and she treats them like her children. She also has a son who goes to UCLA Scott when he drops by the house sometimes the younger ladies of the house go crazy and surround him.

“Meeting dismissed. Lexi can I speak with you for a moment.”

Erica and Lexi share a look they both know what Melissa wants to ask her.

Xxx

Peter’s black Shelby 1000 Cobra pulls up outside his hotel and the valet take the keys and park it while he goes in and and makes sure everything is still running smoothly.

Xxx

Aiden and Ethan have been waiting behind Kappa for Lexi for almost fifteen minutes when she comes out. “What was going on in there and why do you have a duffel bag in the backseat?”

“House meeting were going to Aspen and guess where everyone is staying if you guessed our home you are correct.”

Ethan and Aiden share a look of worry as the doors unlock and they get in. Sure they could of got in before the doors were unlocked its a convertible and there is no hood but they are respectful of the Forbes family.

Lexi pulls up to a stoplight on sunset strip and her fingers are tapping on the steering wheel. The light turns green and she does not drive Aiden who is in the backseat looks behind them at a car and before the car can honk he waves his hand for the car to go around them. Ethan leans over and puts a hand on Lexi’s shoulder. “Are you ok hon.”

That touch of familiarity brings her out of her haze, “Huh oh right um.” She goes to put the car in park and Ethan puts a hand over hers. “I don’t know what’s wrong but before we get into an accident or someone flips us off I’m driving.”

Lexi does get to pull the car off to the side so they are not in the road. Ethan gets in the driver seat while Lexi is in the passengers seat and Aiden slides over so he’s behind the passengers seat then behind the driver seat.

Aiden slides his hands on each of the head rest and massages Lexi’s shoulders while she puts her head on the headrest and closes her eyes. Ethan takes a breath and looks in the mirror at his brother and they nod at each other. They live at the forbes estate and Lexi’s calls them the brothers she never had but they never drive the Forbes cars and this is a custom Lamborghini.

Once they are back on the road and headed to Montecito. Aiden asks “What happened to you this afternoon? You were fine when we left psychology.”

Lexi leans forward and runs a hand through her long blonde hair. “I met her when I went home to get the keys.”

“Met her as in....”

“Yes well met is not the right word saw her today.”

Ethan still keeping his eyes on the highway asks. “Saw her, saw her where?”

Lexi turns towards him and raises an eyebrow. Both twins at the same time go. “Ewww.”

“Yeah can’t get it out of my head. Forgot to mention I’m sleeping in the guest house tonight its still to fresh to step on the bedroom floor.”

“Totally get it.”

“So what is she like?”

Lexi looks back at Aiden in the rear view mirror. “Seriously.”

He shrugs and she sighs “Young she’s twenty six and a half brunette hair and has long dangling feather earrings and tattoos I couldn’t see what tattoos I was busy averting my eyes from the image of my dad thrusting into her.”

Xxx

Once they are through the gate and up the long driveway leading to the courtyard of the house. Since they are not going to be here long they just park outside the home not in the garage.

As they enter the octagon shaped grand foyer with natural lighting streaming in from a skylight, glass chandelier hanging down from the ceiling. A pink couch against the wall below a painting opposite the front doors are there are stairs going into the main house. “I love being in a sorority, but with the exception of Erica, Lydia Allison, Malia and Kira everyone thinks I’m made of money and I can just throw money at every situation. News flash people just because I’m rich doesn’t mean I have to spent it on you and stop expecting me too, plus stop expecting me to give up our homes as a place for you to use. Our home in Aspen we might be putting up for sale so we might not have it anymore but everyone just expects me to give up our home to host retreats. So they can brag we have a Forbes in our sorority. I just wished they wanted me as a person and not as Forbes.”

Both Ethan and Aiden put an arm around her shoulders. “We love you as you not because your a Forbes.”

They go through the mansion and where other homes have basements this home has a nightclub, wine tasting room, wellness center, sports bar and movie theater. The nightclub has a dj booth, six area’s for seating including white chairs, sofa and tables. On the far side there are doors to go out to the pool but with the black shades down it darkens the room to make it have more of the club vibe.

While Aiden is looking around the room planning the party in his head Ethan and Lexi flop onto one of the white fluffy love seats. Lexi has her head back and her eyes closed. “You need a massage after the afternoon you’ve had.”

“The masseuse is not here.”

Ethan smiles as he stands and grabs her hands to pull her up. “You go to the wellness center and I’ll call her or him then we’ll leave, it will give you time to get a massage, Aiden enough time to check this area out and I’ll be in the find something to do. Maybe catch a movie.”

“You love living vicariously through my heiress life.”

Ethan goes to open his mouth but Aiden who is at the clear dj booth which when on changes colors answers. “Yeah but don’t lie you love your heiress life.”

Lexi shrugs her shoulders “Your right I do its a hard life but someone has to live it.”

They laugh as Ethan slides his arm through Lexi’s linking their arms by the elbow. “Now my dear you are coming with me and Aiden is calling a masseuse.”

At the end of hallway there is three steps then a door and inside the door is the wellness center. A little waiting room with chairs, and a water jug and a little fridge with cucumbers and lemons to make cucumber and lemon water. There is a little changing room with robes, next to the massage room with two massage tables always ready.

As they are waiting for the masseuse Lexi and Ethan are just sitting on the table’s Lexi has a robe on ready to go when the masseuse gets here.

“By summer I’m going to choose between Jackson and Danny. I know I can not keep stringing them along.”

“I choose Jackson only because yes you and Danny are cute together he’s a hot guy from Nebraska he doesn’t understand the luxury of our lives, I think he’s only seen the guest house but was still surprised by it. Meanwhile Jackson is from Malibu he understands our lifestyles better. Plus while you and Danny are adorable you and Jackson are hot.”

The doorbell echo’s through the empty long halls of the mansion.Lexi slides off the table to get it but Ethan stops her “I’ll get it.”

Ethan opens the door to a cute tall man with light blonde hair, hazel eyes and stubble on his chin and mustache. “Cute you’ll do, let me show you to the massage room.”

When they enter Ethan hops back on the other table while Lexi is laying on her stomach and leans up to look at the masseur.”mmmh.”

While he is getting everything ready Ethan and Lexi are continuing their conversation like there was no interruptions. “So I can either be adorable or hot?”

“What is Aiden’s thought?”

”Jackson.”

The masseur slides his hands down Lexi’s bare back and up her shoulders. “Your shoulders have new stress.”

“Very new.”

“I’m going to text Melissa instead of going to Aspen in march why not come here for the retreat this home has everything.”

The masseur hands move from the knots in her shoulders to her lower back and Ethan agrees. “Good idea, since your selling the Aspen house that home could be gone by march.”

“Considering where it is and how much it is I doubt someone will snatch it up quickly plus its not even on market yet.”

Ethan stands up and bends down to be face to face with her “Have fun I’m going to the theater.”

“This is a beautiful home you have here Miss-“

Lexi even though her head is through the hole on the table she smiles all she can see is his black jeans and black shoes. “Forbes, Lexi Forbes you can just call me Lexi if you want.”

“Oliver.” He moves his hands from her back to her leg and runs them down her legs massaging the tissue.

Lexi loves to get a massage it’s more then just a spa day activity for her, it’s a relaxation thing where her life is so hectic people always around but when she gets a massage it’s just her and the masseur or masseuse.

“You really do have a beautiful home Lexi.”

“Thank you its one of my favorites.”

Oliver has made her flip and has gone back to the shoulders. “Was that your boyfriend that let me in.”

Lexi lets out a little laugh. “No that is one of my best friends his twin is around here somewhere.”

Xxx

After her massage she walks Oliver out, “Hope to see you again.” He nods as he leaves.

After Lexi changes back into a pair of teal skinny jeans a white tank top and a grey sweater with tan knee high stiletto boots and a white and tan purse. She has matched it with tan sunglasses and her rose gold diamond choker her mom gave her and a couple rings. She finds Ethan in the soundproof movie theater. “What movie is this?”

“Couldn’t decide didn’t want to get invested only to be interrupted.”

“Ready to go home?”

Ethan puts an arm around her shoulders as they leave. “I’m driving?”

Lexi smiles she might have just created a Lamborghini monster letting Ethan drive. “I feel great after the massage my mind is clear the shock is wearing off. Oliver really knows his stuff.”

“Ohhh Oliver.”

Lexi shoves him as they enter the night club and find Aiden on one of the couches. “Shut up. Ready to go hon?”

Aiden nods as he joins his twin and best friend. “Coming here really was what was needed today.”

Xxx

Lexi pulls her car into the gallery and they take a golf cart to the guest house. The estate is so big that there are several golf carts around the estate. If they don’t want to walk or are tired they can just get on a golf cart.

Xxx

Jordan Parrish is having trouble putting his key in his door while he has one hand holding Lydia up and she has her legs around his waist and peppering his neck with kisses. After a couple more tries he does get the door open.

Lydia’s lips go from peppering his neck to attacking his lips.

Xxx

Romania:

Six foot shaggy blonde haired Sawyer Forbes he has stubble on his chin and mustache. His innocent face and his smooth talking gets him in and out of so many problems he’s got himself into over the years. He walks into the bar and spots a familiar brunette at the bar and smirks. “We just keep running into each other freckles you going to tell me your name this time.”

The brunette turns around and smirks up at him. “Hello Sawyer your place or mine.”

He downs a shot and smiles down at her. “We went to mine in London so your place here.”

She downs her shot before picking up her coat “Your place last time my place this time if this happens a third where will we go that time?”

“Depends on where we are.”

She flips her hair out from underneath her coat and looks back at him. “It’s Kate.”

He smirks and puts an arm out “Lead the way freckles.”

#Forbes #lexi branson #ethan and aiden #Lexi Forbes #peter Forbes #lydia martin #erica reyes #isaac lahey #my writing

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solecize · 5 years ago

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𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. you never forget your first love. sometimes you don’t want to. other times, you can’t. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. yuta x reader 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄. fluff / angst / high school au 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. mature language, death, mentions of a car accident, violence and verbal abuse 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 7.7k words 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. i finished this at 5am so its a little wonky and definitely not proofread

FOURTEEN.

the sun barely peaked out from the far horizon of the osaka skyline and the sweet smell of morning dew filled your lungs. a heavy backpack weighing down your shoulders, you hated walking to school in the mornings. clunk. clunk. clunk. the sound of your shoes drumming against the pavement guiding your path became a steady rhythm and your concerns of the day to come drowned within them; a physics test in the morning, a presentation at the end of the day, and the fact that you forgot to pack yourself a lunch. again. these thoughts settled into a roaming and wandering pace as you made your way to school.

wisps of golden rays broke though and in between branches and houses that you strolled past. specifically, the one house that you continuously walked back and forth in front of. ‘come on,’ you thought, waiting for the right moment. this routine that you’d been practicing since elementary school occurred at the almost exact same time every single time.

then, you heard the front door click. with that, you rushed back a couple steps and ignored the army marching through your chest. punctual as ever, yuta was ready. thankfully for you, that meant that you could ‘casually’ run into him on your way to school and walk together. that was the only thing you liked about walking in the mornings.

“oh, hey. good morning.” yuta bore a small smile, as he looked at you over his shoulder and locked the front door. the boy had yet to caught on to the fact that your presence was suspiciously always on time for him to exit his house.

your expression lit up when the eyes of the boy who you so deeply admired met yours. “good morning, yuta.” your smile leapt to your eyes.

as he did every morning, he jogged his way over to where you were and began walking at your side. the mere presence of him just an elbow’s touch away caused the bottom of your stomach to not just do backflips, but an entire gymnastic routine. somehow, you managed to catch your breath.

SIXTEEN.

“and then, he went all ‘bang!’” your hands waved wildly, the words were overflowing from your lips and the rush of adrenaline still fresh in your veins.

miho watched you with a single raised eyebrow, half used to your antics, but was still bewildered at your longstanding crush on soccer star nakamoto yuta. even under the dim streetlights of that hazy and humid september evening, the rogue flush glowing at the apples of your cheeks was too obvious. she simply giggled and looped her arm around yours.

the narrow streets were littered with clusters of students from your school, laughter and chatter being heard from a mile away. the joyous buzz in the air was due to the soccer game that just occurred against the team’s arch rivals, which was won in a last minute dramatic fashion. the saviour of the night? he was walking towards you.

wait, what?

although surrounded by other team members clad in navy blue tracksuits, yuta easily stood out. everyone and anyone bombarded the guy as soon as he came within sight, wanting to congratulate and praise him for his talent and efforts. for some reason, though, there was a different gleam of purpose in his bright eyes.

your heartbeat quickened, but your steady walking pace remained. this was mostly due to miho’s pointed look, as she saw the way you nearly froze up at the sight of yuta—as you always did. up until this point, you weren’t sure what got to you. his charming smile, his kind heart, the way he poured passion into everything he did . . .you were a goner. however, you also had a pile of homework waiting for you when you got home and couldn’t slow down for him, who probably had a celebration to get to.

still, that didn’t change the fact that yuta was making a beeline in your direction. you thought you were imagining it, until you heard him call your name. then, a second time. at this point, you turned around without even realizing that you’d lost control of your body.

“oof—” he ran straight into you the moment you turned around. you wobbled for a second, but yuta’s strong arms caught you almost instantly.

his eyes widened. “oh, shit, i’m so sorry—”

“—no, it’s, um, it’s okay, really!” you exclaimed and wanted to shrivel up when you realized how high your voice became. miho snickered behind you, but you ignored it.

a grin stretched across yuta’s face and the butterflies in your stomach awoke. something about his presence, his spirit lit a spark inside of you. he absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair and opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it and proceeded to play with the words on the tip of his tongue. you weren’t sure what was going on.

yuta asked, “did you enjoy the game?” at this point, he was full on ignoring the passerbys, save for the polite head nod for the congratulations he was receiving. all of his attention was on you.

“yeah, of course,” you nodded, maybe a little too vigorously. “you were really great out there. i mean it.”

“couldn’t have done it without my trusted medic.”

FIFTEEN.

you weren’t sure how exactly you were coaxed into this, but it seemed to have happened in the blink of an eye. everyone in your study group slowly began to flow out of yuta’s home, until it was just the two of you and studying wasn’t the main priority anymore. you weren’t in any rush to go home, considering your home was just a five minute walk away, and, of course, not wanting to pass up the opportunity to spend time with yuta.

“i don’t think i’m exactly fit for this,” you told him nervously, as he lead you onto the empty street by hand.

the evening went from homework to goofing around on youtube. the two of you had been exchanging music and favourite artists, which finally came down to stumbling across soccer clips. yuta then had the brilliant idea of teaching you soccer after you reminded him how much you loathed sports. for whatever reason, that brought you here.

yuta scoffed. “trust me, you’ll get the hang of it easily.”

the breeze blew softly, a relief on a hot summer night like this one. you sighed at the humidity and watched yuta. he dropped the soccer ball onto the ground and it hummed against the concrete, as he started to dribble it.

“you gotta pass with the inside of your foot,” he explained, though you were a little too mesmerized by his gorgeous calf muscles. “like this!” yuta demonstrated and passed the ball over to you like second nature.

somehow, you managed to stop the ball. it had to be either luck or the fear that it was going to crash into one of mrs. nakamoto’s potted plants. your eyes widened in shock. considering you could barely walk without tripping, this was an accomplishment.

he beamed. “great, now pass it over to me.”

what was intended to be a soft, gentle pass ended up being a hard kick to the, well, danger zone. it all happened so fast and before you knew it, the ball hit him with a loud smack! and yuta was trying to resist doubling over. his face contorted and body folded over in swallowed down pain, wincing.

you gasped and rushed over, endless apologies coming out. “oh my god, ohmygod, ohmy—”

“it’s okay, it’s okay!” yuta was gasping for air and you wrapped your arm around his shoulders, trying to help him stand up.

despite being in obvious distress, yuta still managed to laugh upon seeing your reaction. he didn’t realize how much he liked being aided to until you went out of your way to help him back inside and give him an ice pack. he didn’t realize how much he liked teaching his favourite thing to another person until he forced you outside and taught the basics of soccer to your clumsy ass.

most importantly, he didn’t realize how much he could like a person until you.

SIXTEEN.

you rolled your eyes, but you were, without a doubt, dying inside knowing that he remembered that day. “ha. hilarious.”

others continued to weave around you two and you were certain that it looked a little odd, probably annoying, that you were just standing in the middle of a crowded sidewalk. even miho had whispered that she would catch up with you later and snuck away. however, yuta didn’t budge.

“can i walk you home? it’s getting dark and i’m sure you can handle yourself, but just to be extra safe. . .” yuta offered and this took you by surprise.

“you guys just won the most important game of the season, isn’t there some sort of team celebration that you have to get to?” you raised your eyebrows, but allowed him to lead the way to your neighbourhood.

he shrugged. “everyone’s tired. besides, i wanted to, erm, talk to you.”

looking behind you, it seemed that the boys from the team were indeed dispersing, but strangely enough, were all looking in your direction. as if being caught red handed in a robbery, they all froze on the spot when they met your eyes and turned the other way immediately. yuta noticed this and grumbled something under his breath, but you didn’t catch it.

“about. . .?”

“uh, well, we’ve been friends for a while now, right?” yuta scratched the back of his neck with a tension in his movement.

shit. he found out about your crush on him. surely, he just wanted to let you down easy or something. you chomped down hard, teeth grinding against each other in pure agony. this was not happening. you managed to nod your head slowly.

he continued, “well, there’s something i’ve been meaning to tell you.” his eyes, full of fire, wandered all over, except to meet yours. “ask you, er, actually.”

you blinked, trying your best to ignore the bubble of hope forming in your chest. “what do you mean?” because there was no way he was talking about what you’d been dreaming of for god knows how long.

he slowed down in his tracks and for a few moments, there was a calm.

“i like you.” yuta finally spat out, the wind knocked out of him and you nearly fell over attempting to halt in your route. “and i wanted to ask if you’d go out with me.”

cashmere moonlight illuminated the aged roads of osaka where joy danced in the air—the joy of victory, youth, and, now, first love. time seemed to suspend just for a few moments and it tasted like fireworks. a round of whoops emerged from where yuta left him teammates behind, but it was all white noise to you.

everything was blurry and unimportant, except for him.

SEVENTEEN.

“why did we invite these two?” miho groaned, watching the two of you from the other side of the room.

it hadn’t even been a minute since entering the karaoke lounge, but you and yuta were already cuddled up in the corner of one of the couches. he had pulled you onto his lap and you let out a loud giggle at the contact. snaking his arms around your waist, you knew that you were not leaving this place for the rest of the night.

yuta raised an eyebrow. “that’s awfully rude. we’re your friends.” his signature cheeky smile formed and you couldn’t help but press a kiss on his cheek.

“you guys have been on this lovey-dovey honeymoon shit for, like, a year now,” one of yuta’s teammates groaned.

“sucks for you guys.” you grinned in response and began flipping through one of the song books.

it was the middle of the summer going into your last year of high school and you were certain of it—you didn’t have a single care in the world. it was the last summer of pure freedom and everyone felt it all around them. it was a ticking time bomb, a countdown that result in late nights out with all of your friends. tonight it brought you to karaoke.

yuta tucked a piece of stray hair behind your ear. “i like this colour on you.” you’d just dyed your hair a few shades lighter than your natural shade a couple of nights ago as apart of a dare. of course, you did it, but the more you looked at it, the worse it seemed to look.

“really?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“duh. you look good in everything.”

you brought your face close to his ear, so that the conversation could only be heard between the two of you. “you should go sing something.”

“uh, what?” his face scrunched up jokingly, but you gave him a knowing eye.

it started off one day when you were chilling alone, just watching mamma mia on his couch. for whatever reason, yuta knew enough of the songs to be able to sing along. that’s when you discovered his gift of possibly the sweetest, smoothest voice you’ve ever heard. angelic, you insisted, but he was always too shy and didn’t acknowledge it.

since then, you’ve paid extra attention when you catch him singing under his breath, humming, or even just whistling. everyone told him how good he was, but he didn’t even consider it. nevertheless, it was the same glimmer in yuta’s eyes when he sang his favourite song as the one when he was on the field.

suddenly, the weight beneath you shifted. yuta had pushed you off his lap effortlessly, taking the song book. this forced you to stand up on your feet and left you confused.

he beckoned his friend that held the microphones over and took them from him. “what are you doing?” you asked.

“let’s sing a duet, then.” at this, all of your friends cheered in response to this unusual action from yuta. he’d always be the one to just sit in the corner with his drink, hype up everyone else, and maybe give some background vocals in the form of yelling.

“oh, really?” you laughed, not believing what was happening.

“what? i like trying new things with you,” yuta declared with a grin and passed a microphone to you, which you barely caught. “you better keep up.”

the night unfolded just like that, with nineties throwback jams and laughter all around. miho captured the memory on her polaroid and you kept several of these pictures to stow away, probably in some shoebox under your bed. however, for now, you lived these pictures. you lived them with yuta, always pushing each other to your boundaries and always with the best of hearts.

SEVENTEEN.

it started with that one time at the amusement park when you nearly lost your shit at the top of the ferris wheel. then, he noticed the way you squirmed trying to walk across the metal grates downtown where you could see just how deep it went past those holes. you never wanted to join your friends when they would have lunch on the school rooftop.

you had a fear of heights.

one promise was made clear between the two of you at the start of your senior year in high school: to make the best out of it. yuta figured that this meant pushing you to face what scared you the most. this was the first of them.

with a sigh, you suddenly found your shoes to be the most interesting thing in the world. “i really don’t know about this.”

“we took a three hour bus ride to get here and you’re not sure about this?” yuta folded his arms across his chest. “you’re the one that suggested we all go to the beach.”

you gnawed on your bottom lip. “well, yeah, but i meant to go swimming or tan or play volleyball! this—” you beckoned down to the aquamarine ocean line, “—is not what i meant, yuta!”

kicking a piece of rock, it flew right off the edge and deep down into the shore below. you watched it and the distance it made, which only caused you to stiffen up even further. the cliff had to be at least twenty meters high and despite the beautiful crystal waters, it felt like diving into a black hole. your eyes remained glued to the mocha dirt between your feet, as the sight only pumped your blood faster and faster.

yuta chuckled softly and you smacked his arm. “this isn’t funny!”

raising his hands up in defense, he approached you slowly. “come on. you’re the bravest girl i know.” your boyfriend tried to tip your chin up, but you tore in away. “you’ve been telling me for years about how you’ve wanted to get over this.”

“yeah, but we all know i’m a pussy ass bitch.”

he rolled his eyes, but wrapped his arms around you from behind and kissed your temple. “come on. if you do it, i’ll buy you food.”

you scoffed. “you think i’m that easily bought?”

even though he didn’t say a word, the look that yuta gave you was enough to indicate his agreement. you looked between him and the seemingly endless jump that awaited you just a few steps away. squinting at the sun, you let out a loud breath.

“well?” yuta asked hopefully.

you rubbed the ring on your left hand, a habit formed in the confrontation with your nerves, and braced yourself. in a twist of fate, you found yourself walking a few steps back and for a second, he thought that you were leaving. then, yuta saw the look on your face and grinned. it was enough for him to know. squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to steady yourself.

“you have to jump right after me, okay?!” you didn’t mean to yell, but everything began to muffle except for the pounding in your ears.

yuta said, “you got it, baby.” he began clapping and whooping, building up your energy at your side.

it was like flying. you ran and ran until your entire body was wrapped around blankets of air and freedom. you finally opened your eyes, wide and bright, to the world around you. it was pure lunacy. it must’ve lasted forever, because when you emerged from the sharp waters and gasping for air, yuta was already right beside you.

a boil of hysteria formed at the base of your throat. one giggle lead to another, until you were having a full on fest of laughter. you couldn’t stop and watching you, yuta couldn’t help but start laughing, too. you flung your arms around him in the tightest embrace, still shaking from the nerves, but in the best way possible. you planted a deep kiss on his lips and he groaned.

“i guess that wasn’t so—” you were cut off by yuta’s lips, capturing yours once again.

SEVENTEEN.

everyone knew you and yuta to be the couple that was late to almost everything. however, most were not aware of the fact that it was almost strictly because of him. sometimes, you had to step back and marvel at just how good he was at wasting time when getting ready for something.

“oh my god, is it possible to take any longer than this?” you yelled at him from his bedroom balcony, as you absentmindedly scrolled through your phone. at the same time, you ignored the angry messages from your friends, wondering where the two of you were.

the sound of the blow dryer finally came to a stop. “relax, there’s no need to rush.”

“it’s the last school festival we’re ever gonna have and you don’t wanna rush?” you quipped back.

this happened every time, so you weren’t nearly as irritated as you should’ve been. this was considering you woke up extra early to pick out your outfit and actually attempt real makeup on your face. it made you a little nervous, considering you made enough effort to brush your hair and throw on the nicest skirt you owned, albeit after digging through your closet for who knows how long. you arrived at yuta’s almost an hour before you were supposed to leave and without surprise, he was still in bed.

since this happened every time, you had one simple method that worked every time. all it took was one iced cube for nakamoto yuta, the mighty star player of your school’s soccer team, to squeal like a four year old and scramble out of bed. soon enough, he was in the shower and belting to chris brown at the top of his lungs.

he definitely didn’t get out soon enough.

you got up to bang on his bathroom door, but before you could do so, it swung open. yuta was fully dressed in casual attire of an oversized hoodie, a jean jacket, and black sweats. a baseball cap nestled the top of his pristine hair and you immediately swiped it off.

“hey—” yuta began to protest, but then his eyes scanned your appearance and his jaw was left hanging.

clearly, you didn’t notice, because you continued ranting. “if you took all that time to blow dry your hair, why the hell did you put on a hat?”

“you look. . .”

“we are so late and—”

he clamped a hand over your mouth, only getting a further rise out of you. “can you just listen to me?” but, this didn’t stop your attempts and yelling through his hand.

yuta didn’t let go until you had the bright idea to lick his hand, at which he let out a chorus of “yuck, ew, gross” and spun around to wash his hands immediately. you snickered at his reaction, but were still heated.

he gave you a dirty look. “damn, a guy can’t tell his girl that she looks beautiful?”

“not when the guy is the reason for them being an hour and a half late!” you cried. jaw set, you had to admit that this would normally get your heart pounding, but it was going to be your fist’s turn if he didn’t hurry. long gone were the days where you couldn’t speak the truth to yuta and now, you’d cuss him out at any given time.

he chuckled and placed a hand on your cheek. “well, you do. i don’t know what you did, but you look good, all dressed up and stuff.”

you let him bring you into a gentle embrace and melted into him almost instantaneously. “yeah, yeah, whatever,” you said into his chest. “by the way, i really enjoyed the concert you put on there.”

yuta’s ears turned slightly red, but he laughed it off. “thanks. i’ve been practicing.” he looked over and noticed the balcony door open, the curtains blowly softly against the wall. “were you just on my balcony?”

“yeah, it’s way too hot in here.”

“willingly? alone? at a high height?” he dramatically gaped and you hit his arm.

you replied, “ergh, yes, okay? let’s move on now.” you couldn’t bite back the small grin that was forming on your face and there was no way he didn’t notice it.

the two of you eventually raced out the front door and began a rock paper scissors competition to decide who would have to face an angry miho, who’d been waiting for you two for hours.

EIGHTEEN.

you shared all of the most painful moments of your life with yuta. he was there for you after every test you failed, every sad movie that pulled at your heartstrings, and every time you plucked your eyebrows. just thinking about him, you could easily remember the way his arms felt like home, when nothing else in the world seemed to matter.

“she’s going to be okay, come on. . .” he murmured into your ear, as he stroked your hair. “please, just breathe, baby.”

“miho was on her way to see me! she shouldn’t have—” you couldn’t finish the sentence, a strangled sob choking your words to bits.

yuta rocked you back and forth in his arms as you tried to look for some sort of light, but the bland eggshell walls of the hospital corridor provided nothing to comfort you. there was no one else waiting for miho except you. you were all she had.

that day, she ended up surviving the fatal car accident. you were certain that you would have gone mad if it weren’t for yuta’s warm arms and the sweet nothings he assured into your being. he was your strength that day.

likewise, yuta shared all the most painful moments of his life with you. you were there for him after every injury he suffered on the field, after every screaming match with his hotheaded father, and every lost game that he took. you somehow made him laugh on his way to the infirmary. you found every way to cheer him up after a bad game. most of all, you were the one who cradled him and let him sob into your chest in the rare moments when he would lose all control after a fight with his dad.

it was about one in the morning when you awoke in a startle. the sound of a pile of your textbooks toppling over from your desk created what seemed to be an earthquake at an ungodly hour. you awoke to your heart beating wildly, unsure of what to expect.

thankfully, it was just your idiot boyfriend, who had no idea how to climb into a room through a window. unsure of what was going on, your first instinct to whisper yell at him about whatever the hell he was doing and the fact that your parents could have woken up, but then you saw. you saw his dead eyes and his slumped over figure.

“did he. . .”

you hadn’t seen yuta in about a week, ever since his father was hospitalized. he didn’t elaborate on any details when he explained the situation to you, but you knew it was fatal. he didn’t even want you visiting.

“yeah. he went real quick and just like that,” yuta took in a deep breath, “it was over.”

you immediately sat up on your bed and made room for him, to which he immediately occupied. all you wanted to do was reach out and touch him, to enclasp his hardened joints and cold skin. looking over at him, though, it seemed like the hardest thing to do. you’d never seen yuta so empty before.

you cleared your throat, while eyeing your bedroom door to ensure all lights remained off. “shouldn’t you be with your mom and sister?”

“i dropped them off at home so they could sleep. i wanted to call you, but,” yuta shrugged, “i’m here now.”

after that, yuta didn’t talk for the rest of the night. though he stared blankly at your popcorn ceiling as if he was in another world, you kept him grounded. you talked about anything and anything to distract him. the soccer game on television that evening, the new, hideous curtains that your mother put in the living room, how you just learned to do some basic sewing, the neighbourhood gossip. you talked until your throat strained and begged for you to give up. but, you didn’t give up until the first streams of ginger orange and rose emerged from the horizon beyond your tiny window.

by then, he coasted into a deep sleep into the crook of your neck and one arm slung over your torso. you buried your face in his hair, hand clutched in his. pain always hurt, but neither of you ever had to hurt alone.

EIGHTEEN.

you shared all of the most painful moments of your life with yuta, but you never anticipated the day when one of those moments would be because of him.

“what do you mean?” you felt like you’d just been punched in the gut, your lips parting in shock.

yuta pushed his tongue to the inside of his cheek and set down his soda on the rooftop ledge. “i mean, i’m leaving. i’m going to accept their offer of admission.” his eyes were downcast and he felt like he was holding onto all of the weight in the world.

“but-but, i—” you started, but couldn’t find the words.

nothing seemed real in that moment. you shook your head and turned away, finding the door to be the only option. however, watching even your smallest of movements, yuta knew you too well and easily predicted what you were going to do next.

he grabbed your arm before you could walk away. “can we just talk about this first?”

“like the way you talked to me about applying to schools overseas?” you shot, though your voice was quieter than usual.

like every other couple in the graduating class, your future was up in the air. it was floating and it seem like every time to made a move to reach out and grab for it, all that slipped through your fingers was pure nothingness. void. you didn’t want to think about it, instead opting to live in the moment.

however, with the changing leaves and the aforementioned ticking time bomb became the background music to your every day life. there always seemed to be something that popped out of nowhere to remind you of what you dreaded—the fact that you were running out of time.

yuta ran a hand through his hair. “it wasn’t the plan, i just kinda did it on a whim and i never expected. . .” his shoulders slumped.

it was then you realized that yuta was no longer living by the same hour.

although you avoided talking about it, you and yuta were with each other every step of the way since the year began. you thought the happy ending plan you concocted in your plan was officially set in motion and absolutely nothing could go wrong.

wrong.

though you knew deep inside that this wasn’t a bad thing, that you shouldn’t be upset at yuta, there was a nagging feeling at the pit of your stomach. every bad scenario that could possibly be generated suddenly flashed before your very eyes and at that, your entire body stiffened.

your heart ached and you couldn’t help but step forward to place a hand on his chest. “listen. i’m happy for you and i’m not trying to hurt your feelings, but,” you shook your head, “that shit really hurt mine.”

before he could say anything, you took off the sweater he’d given to just a few minutes earlier when the two of you arrived. the cold breeze felt like knives against your flesh, but you ignored it. for your entire life, you knew that you were as fragile as glass. however, you never truly felt it up until this moment.

“come on, it’s not that serious,” yuta said, eyes widened.

you replied, “it doesn’t matter. this is, um, just a lot to take in.” shaking your head, you broke free of his grasp.

just as you approached the stairs to return back to the school building, you hear yuta’s voice from behind you.

“i’m not letting this be the end.”

EIGHTEEN.

when the guests began pouring out of your front door, you took this as an opportunity to sneak out the back and around to escape the dreadful atmosphere. this wasn’t to say that you weren’t grateful for the careful orchestration done to ensure a successful surprise party, you were really blown away by the plan made by your family and miho. walking into your living room to be met with a crowd of people to celebration your recent acceptance to university was the highlight of your day and the second last thing you expected.

the last thing you expected had followed you out your back door, having kept a close eye on you since the start of the party. yuta had not spoken to you in a week, not since the reveal on the school rooftop. you stated that you needed space and he respected that, but there was no way he wasn’t going to celebrate your massive academic accomplishments, especially when he was the rock to keep you stable all of this years.

plus, miho would’ve killed him.

“hey, hey, hey,” yuta’s unmistakable voice chimed in behind you, “where are you going?”

“i needed some air,” you said, without turning around.

he jogged up to you and began walking by your side. you didn’t look at him. you weren’t sure why.

yuta said, “it’s crazy how fast everything’s going now,” he shoved his hands into his pockets. “it seems like yesterday we were just fourteen and screwing around, doing whatever without caring about tomorrow.”

“. . .yeah. i think i’m going to go crazy thinking about what’s going to happen tomorrow, or the day after.” the confession tasted bitter and it showed crystal clear in your features. “like, obviously, the party was great and all but it was just another reminder of all this shit building up.”

“you have no reason to worry,” yuta scoffed. “you have so much to look forward to. i know you aren’t afraid to be on your own next year.”

“but, that’s the thing, yuta!” you bellowed. “i’m not afraid, i’m terrified. i wasn’t going be afraid because i wasn’t going to be on my own, i was supposed to have you.” it took all of your strength to even attempt to stop your voice from shaking.

like you’d always done, you found yourself immediately melting back into his arms, like they were your rightful place. “believe it or not, i am so fucking ecstatic for you. i just—”

“—wish we wouldn’t have to go our own ways?” yuta finished for you, a sad smile playing on his lips.

you nodded. “it’s stupid, but you’ve been by my side forever. and i want the best for you and trust me, i know this school is perfect for you.”

“you looked into it?”

“of course i did,” you managed to laugh. “and it checks off every single box for your dream school.”

the conversation was a volcano, waiting to erupt in the shadows for quite some time. thankfully, it wasn’t destructive. the two of you sat down on the edge of the sidewalk, still not letting go of each other. similar to leisurely flowing lava, it was warm and of beauty unlike any other.

yuta cupped your cheek and you swore you would have given anything to freeze those few seconds of time to keep. “you know, no matter what happens, you’ll always have my heart.”

that night, yuta took you to the same arcade he brought you to on your first date at fifteen. you shared laughter and exchanged music like you had for many years. the fear settling deep into both of your bodies seemed to fade for that one night. because, although he wanted to be strong and reject it, yuta was as scared as you were.

“you aren’t making the wrong decision,” you assured him, over and over again.

just like that, the magma begun to settle. the fog started to clear, but you weren’t sure if whatever hid behind it all was what you wanted. regardless, for those few seconds in time, everything seemed to be okay.

EIGHTEEN.

"stop crying, loser.”

“i am not crying!” you insisted with a laugh, as you hastily swiped at the tears brimming in your eyes. “i am totally fine, this is totally happening.”

standing in the middle of the parking lot of the ceremony hall, you looked a little ridiculous. you’d long given up on wearing heels and opted to go barefoot, your makeup was smeared, and you already ripped your gown by accident when you stepped on it going down the stairs. yuta didn’t see you that way, though.

he saw you for what you were: the smart, strong, gorgeous girl that he’d been in love with for the past four years of his life. the first girl he’d ever loved. he’d gone on believing that you were going to be the last, too, but that dream was shattered into pieces now. somehow, he accepted this with a smile.

“i guess this is goodbye,” he jokingly extended his hand, to which you slapped it out of the way and nearly jumped on him for a bone crushing hug. yuta laughed and hugged you back just as tight, beginning to twirl you around and ignored the way his cap toppled off his head in the process.

all of a sudden, you heard a loud honk. he let go of you and you noticed that your family was waiting for you to get in the car. you sighed. his eyes met yours and the silence was enough.

he pressed a kiss against your cheek, one last time. “bye, angel.”

TWENTY FIVE.

nothing was the same. your parents had long moved out of your childhood home and to the other side of the city. you lost contact with all of your high school friends and as far as you knew, they’d all moved to different points of the country. upon returning to your hometown, there was nothing left for you anymore.

dropping the last of your cardboard boxes, thankfully not one of the ones marked with ‘fragile,’ miho let out a loud huff. “finally! i thought this shit would never end,” she grumbled.

you kicked the box aside to the back wall of you brand new apartment. “thanks for helping me out.”

she was the last of your old friends to remain in osaka, having built her life here after graduation as a police officer. in fact, miho was the last of your old friends to stick by your side ever since. some were appalled at the turn of events that occurred in your life and ostracized you. others simply faded away naturally. miho was the first of them to enter your life and you were in pure relief when she promised that she wouldn’t leave your side.

miho was the one you dragged into your washroom to take the five tests to see if they were really accurate. when yuta was long gone, she was your rock. when you had to go through school with a young kid, she was your source of encouragement through strings of letters, phone calls, and text messages.

she was the last constant in your life in the ‘before’ and the ‘after.’

“duh, do you know how excited i am for you to be back?!” miho squealed, hugging you for what seemed to be the hundredth time since you arrived back in town just a year before.

you beamed. “i just. . .can’t believe it.” looking out the window, you realized that you left so much of yourself when you left at eighteen. now that you were back, you weren’t sure if you wanted to pick up where you left off.

your oldest friend nodded in understanding. suddenly, there was a loud chime and miho checked her phone immediately, frowning at her screen. she shoved in back into her purse and sighed.

“i really don’t want to leave you alone, but i have to go,” she said.

you nodded in understanding. “it’s okay. go. i have to go grocery shopping for me and the little dude over there anyway,” you replied. “i’ll catch up with you tomorrow for lunch?”

the small boy sitting at your newly moved couch looked up at the mention of himself. he’d been occupied the entire time with power rangers reruns and you walked over to him, scooping him up in a cuddle. yosuke was at the age where he whined at every form of physical affection from his mother, even if they were the best of friends like the two of you were.

“of course,” miho said and followed you. she cooed at yosuke, who’s eyes were still glued to the tablet screen in his hands. taking his chubby cheeks between her manicured fingers and pinching them, the kid let out a loud groan and you gave him a pointed look.

you cleared your throat. “say bye to auntie miho.”

“bye auntie miho,” yosuke mumbled with a grimace painted across his face.

standing up, you began to walk miho to the door. she slipped on her heels, ranting about the warm weather in november, but to be honest, you were mostly tuning her out in favour of just appreciating miho’s presence in the first place. just like old times.

you opened the door for her and waved her goodbye. however, just as you were about to close it, the door beside your apartment opened. whether it was out of curiosity or some cruel trick by destiny, you look out to greet your neighbour.

what came next couldn’t have happened in your wildest dreams.

everything was the same. sure, he grew out his hair a little bit longer, but yuta looked exactly the same in that dusty parking lot, when the two of you were eighteen. a lollipop dangled from his mouth, like before, and his surroundings were drowned out by earphones plugged into both of his ears. he still wore his late father’s titanium watch, no matter how aged it was. yuta’s eyes met yours and you were a goner, like you always were. it was more than a punch to the gut, but a full on blow to the face and a kick to the shins. your entire body felt like it’d just been battered. you couldn’t breathe.

for half a second, he glanced away. then, the nooks and crannies of his memories that hadn’t been touched in years became triggered. yuta looked up and he could’ve sworn, everything in the world stopped. his mouth ran dry and the vulnerability that settled in his bones felt as though he’d been caught in the middle of a crime.

yuta wanted to say your name, to see if it was really you, but nothing seemed to croak out.

“this can’t be real.” you didn’t know you were saying this out loud, but the words just spilled out of your mouth. you felt like a wax candle, eventually vanishing the hotter your flame grew. this couldn’t be happening.

he sputtered, “i can’t—”

you suddenly became aware of your appearance and wanted to just hide away. with your hair twisted into a half-assed bun and clad in an old t-shirt and denim overalls, you looked more like the visiting plumber than a tenant.

“—believe it,” you finished for him, trying to let the oxygen enter your body. “um, sorry, i just moved in, so i’m not really fit to be seen by actual humans.”

neither of you were sure how to go about this, both wanting to go in for a hug, but hesitated. after a few awkward attempts, yuta eventually went ‘fuck it’ and just completely squashing you into an embrace. you weren’t sure how long the hug lasted for. maybe an hour. a couple minute. a few seconds. but even just a quarter of that was enough for you. the smell of musk and teakwood filled your senses and you were lost again, forgetting about what this reunion meant for you.

“you look great.” yuta just saw you the way he’d always remembered you. “you still look the same.” he chuckled, taken aback and blown away.

you scrunched your nose. “do i?” there was no way he was being serious.

“just like the night of the spring festival.”

that was what took you by surprise, the fact that he remembered that night, much less what you looked like. still, the whole situation was not fully processed in your mind. you shook your head, blinking your doubts away.

you tried to form your words. “what, erm, are you doing here?” the awkward laugh that came out of your mouth was enough to say it all. “i mean, last i heard, you became a big shot, working for some company in europe.”

“i moved back to japan a few weeks ago,” yuta revealed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “i wanted to work back home.” though the smile on his face was small, it was enough to bring you back to the bliss of your relationship with him.

none of this was real.

you were dizzy. seeing yuta felt like seeing a ghost from your past. this wasn’t supposed to be what moving back to osaka was about. seven years away meant seven years of growth and even harder, moving on. you finally snapped yourself out of the fragrant, intoxicating daze that was nakamoto yuta and realized you had to confront the reality.

“what—” you started,

he shrugged and leaned against his door frame. “why travel the world when you feel like you’re, well, missing something?” yuta asked. “i mean, i had a lot going for me. but, something felt wrong.”

this was just honesty from yuta. after years away from his roots, there had to be a reason why he traced his footprints back to home. maybe it was after pleading to the stars for an answer, but standing in front of you seemed like the twist of fate he’d been seeking.

“nothing beats home and family, right?”

it was too late. from the ringing in your ears, you didn’t hear the tiny footsteps plopping right behind you on your new, carpeted floors. you didn’t hear the distant video music come to an abrupt pause. you didn’t hear any of it and then, you felt a tug at your pant leg.

“i’m hungry,” yosuke yawned, looking up at you through his long eyelashes.

all the colour in yuta’s face drained. you rubbed the ring on your left hand and tore your gaze away from yuta and instead focused on your son. “okay, yosuke, go back inside and i’ll make you lunch, honey.” you forced a smile, but yosuke just gave a confused side glance at yuta. nonetheless, he retreated back inside.

yuta always imagined what it would be like if he crossed paths with you again. in most of these fantasies, you’d fall right back into his arms. he rarely considered the idea that you would have someone else. he didn’t even entertain the notion at all, the dead clutch of hope still remaining within him.

“yosuke?” he asked slowly, trying to memorize the details of the little boy’s face and all he saw were your features.

it was the hardest thing for you to say.

“yeah. my son.”

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂.

i like you (exo remake) - weathercast severely - ft island milk - f(x) at the end - chungha you were beautiful - day6

#nct fanfic #neowritingsnet #kwritersworldnet #ncitynetwork #yuta fanfic #cznnet #yuta x reader #nct x reader #nct imagine #nct scenarios #yuta imagine #NCT #yuta scenarios #nct fic #nct au #yuta au

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moccahobi · 5 years ago

Text

Written in The Stars [Hoseok x Reader]

Warnings: Cuss words

Summery: Hoseok had always been big on supporting his friends. Thus it came as no surprise that he ended up spending his free time at Namjoon's latest buiseness venture: a little dessert cafe. He didn't expect to fall for the cute barista who always worked when he was there though the.

Word count: 7k words

Genre: Slice of life au; Cafe au

Author’s Note: Thank you so much to @kyub for making the banner and @heyitsmeee2, @jung-hoseok-s-airplane, @jiminful, and @elenasgotyourback for betaing. This fic took so much out of me! I had one idea than the next and the main time I had to write this was during school. Oof! I am glad I did it though! Big shutout to @bangtanscenery for orchestrating and creating this project! It was soo fun!

Hoseok sighed from where he was seated in the all too cliche cafe. Namjoon had just opened it up so Hoseok was trying to fulfill his role as a supportive friend by eating there, but it just wasn’t a place he was into. The place was beautiful. He could tell Namjoon and his business partner had quite the eye for design. The wall behind the register was painted in chalk and the menu was written in large swirling letters across it. They had picked a light and natural wood tone for the tables and booths that complimented the dark grey of the metal chairs which were all all seats upholstered with a rich navy blue and embezzled with glittering gold rebites keeping the cushions to the furniture. It was an ethereal kind of look that undoubtedly drew in the crowds.

Looking around, Hoseok’s eyes landed on a large astrology chart sprawled out on the back wall, similar in handwriting to the menu, painting a story with the chart. He only noticed it because Namjoon had a passion for astrology and he would often gush about it to Hoseok who would listen to almost all the times that they met up. To top it off, the ceiling was painted in an all consuming shade of black, mimicking a galaxy with its streaks of white, here and there, which glimmered like actual stars (although Hoseok could admit that the ceiling was almost a piece of art). Aside from the heavy reliance on a theme, it was a dessert cafe. Hoseok liked sweets. Namjoon loved sweets apparently. Almost every food was doused in sugar and it was almost overwhelming just how sweet it all was. They all sounded amazing and cavity inducing (especially the french toast and ice cream combo), and Hoseok was tempted to try them, but he couldn’t handle all that sugar in one sitting. He’d need someone to help and he didn’t have someone to help him today. The only thing Hoseok could handle was the Black Hole coffee (americano with a little sugar) and a Galaxy bagel (it was just a plain bagel with some sugary cream cheese). Hoseok felt a little more like Yoongi, the resident grump of his friends, sitting in the cafe with such… unsweetened foods.

Of course Namjoon’s cafe had some savory food and Hoseok wanted to try them some other time, maybe with Yoongi.The main thing Namjoon sold was dessert though, and to support Namjoon, Hoseok had to have one of the desserts.

What wasn’t a shock about Namjoon’s cafe was that he co-owned and ran it with someone else. Hoseok didn’t know who it was yet, Namjoon having not told him yet but from what Hoseok knew of the current set up, they were manning the counter with two baristas. From what Namjoon had said about his business partner, they were much more focused on what they were serving as well as the astrology side of the cafe work than any of the real business. It gave Namjoon exactly what he wanted: the business side of things and a partner to share the possible debt. Hoseok had finally managed to visit today, their fifth day open and if he had to list the things that he did like, he’d have to start with the ceiling and then mention one of the baristas:

They took his breath away the second he entered the store. They smiled broadly and greated Hoseok and for a second, he forgot that he was at a local cafe and not a family run restaurant back in Gwangju. The world slowed as he looked at them and all Hoseok could think about was the warm feeling of returning to his mom’s friend’s restaurant after his post-school program and eating kimchi and rice.

The trance was broken the second she turned to take someone’s order and Hoseok slowly came back to reality. He wasn’t in Gwangju but he was about to have a wonderful meal in a shop owned by a friend.

Hoseok had only been in the cafe for half an hour and he could already say that he was starting to develop a small crush on the barista. He didn’t mean to and he didn’t dare think about actually asking her out… it just happened. She was a pretty woman doing her job and Hoseok was an attention starved small business owner who was entranced by her caring attitude. Hoseok was stressed and tired. Plus, he was finally feeling better after his last relationship. There wasn’t this constant longing nestled deep inside him at the thought of the end of his last relationship anymore, and he might finally be at a point where dating was ok to do again.

That is what he brushed it off as.

Hoseok didn’t want to think of the alternative. He just got out of a relationship a month ago and was still recovering even if he felt like he might be better now. Sure it might have been a mutual agreement based on his best interests and their best interest, but that didn’t make it any harder. Hoseok still missed the nights when they would spend the night in their apartment and snuggle close while watching cheesy shows or when they’d force him to stop working on pottery for a day and instead grab food at one of the food trucks. He missed the companionship but by now, he didn’t know if he missed them.

He might.

There wasn’t a real way to always tell though. The two went everywhere together. Every place that Hoseok went to now conjured memories that danced and pranced around in his mind. This cafe would be different though. There were no ghost memories dancing around. It was new and he could work effectively and happily.

At some point while Hoseok was finishing his food, Namjoon came over and joined him. The two had barely had more than a handful of conversations since graduating college, both too busy to make time for the other as small business owners (well this was Namjoon’s second business venture, the other supplying him a good source of money to fund him and the cafe). That was how life was sadly but with this cafe open so close to where Hoseok lived and worked that now they might have a chance of having long and winded conversations again.

“Do you remember watching stars on our old apartment’s rooftop?” Namjoon asked at one point, a soft and content smile on his face

“Somewhat. They were nice. Cold, but nice.” Hoseok lied while taking a long sip of his coffee.

Namjoon had always loved the night sky, so much so that he would drag Hoseok out three times a week just to look at the sky. The man could name every constellation and phase of the moon off the top of his head. It was an amazing skill. Hoseok didn’t have that same passion though. Sure, the night sky was nice, awe inspiring at times, but most nights Hoseok would return from work exhausted and all he wanted to do was go to sleep. Those nights when Namjoon and Hoseok would go onto the roof and look at the sky were mostly filled with Hoseok drifting off in the cold.

Hoseok did it though and Hoseok would do it again in a heartbeat because it made Namjoon happy.

Namjoon smiled broadly, “That was kinda the inspiration for the cafe’s decorations! My co-owner, Y/n-ssi, really likes astrology so she added some of the more… magical elements.”

Hoseok chuckled and looked around with a small smile growing on his face as well,“I am glad you enjoyed those nights so much. Do you still make time to go out and look at the stars?” Hoseok asked before taking a long sip of his coffee.

“No.” Namjoon snorted, his smile much larger now, “I am a working man. I barely have time to eat, sleep, and breath. Let alone gaze up at the stars.”

“You should make time, Namjoon-ah. It isn’t healthy to work all the time.” Hoseok chastised, taking special care now to scrutinize Namjoon’s face.

He looked very similar to the young twenty year old Hoseok once knew but there was more evidence now of stress and wear-and-tear. Frown lines and bags etched in his face. When was the last time Namjoon took a break from all his work? Hoseok didn’t know the answer. He did know though that he was no better than Namjoon. This was his first real break in a week or two.

“You sound like Minjae.” Namjoon laughed.

Hoseok winced instead, “Sometimes we need someone to look after us, Namjoon-ah.”

“I am sorry, man. I didn’t mean to-”

“It is ok, dude. I am over her.” Hoseok said, carefully watching Namjoon process what Hoseok said.

He still looked stressed, his frown lines growing as he looked at the table instead of Hoseok. Namjoon had set up Minjae and Hoseok and his pride was undoubtedly wounded when the two decided to end it. Namjoon also barely had time to check in with the two so his own memory was probably a little foggy.

“ Anyways, we should try to go camping sometime… or go to some sort of museum for stars. Bet we could stay there for five hours before they’d kick us out.” Hoseok proposed, watching as Namjoon smiled, his frown lines becoming ghosts as he looked back up at Hoseok again as the previous stress left him.

Namjoon snorted in laughter, “I would love to look at the stars with you again, if that is what you’re asking.”

His eyes lit up as he started to speak animatedly, “And we can make s’mores and grill some beef. Oh my god! I haven’t had beef in sooo long. It would be so good!”

“I think we would have to go camping to do that, Namjoon-ah. I don’t know if a museum will allow us to start a fire and cook stuff there.” Hoseok laughed.

“Well then, looks like we will be going camping.”

“Yeah. Looks like we will have to plan that soon.”

A comfortable silence filled the two as they looked out at the bustling cafe, nothing left to talk about. They were both running their own stores, Hoseok had his pottery shop and Namjoon had the bookshop and now this cafe. The two did the same work just in a different setting and neither felt the need to talk about it. Shortly after their conversation died down, Namjoon had to go back to work. He mainly worked in the backroom but there was almost more work to be done.. Hoseok didn’t mind. He understood the struggle. Namjoon leaving actually left Hoseok excited as he could finally start reading the latest book he grabbed from the library. Giddily, he tapped his feet against the floor and quickly pulled the book out of his bag and started to read. The soft and sure feeling of the hardback book grounded him as he started to be carried away by the words. Distantly, he registered people moving around him as life carried on but he didn’t care one bit. The tension rose in the story the further he read and soon enough he found himself tightly gripping the book as more and more problems arose. Time passed at an unknown rate to Hoseok as someone new sat near him or left or readjusted. He barely noticed any and all changes that happened around him, too absorbed in the world he held in his hands (which he was somehow only a third of the way through). That was until he noticed someone sit across him at his table. They said something that he didn’t quite hear or understand and he quickly tried to get to a stopping point so converse with whoever it was (probably Namjoon back to bother him more).He looked up in shock to see the cute barista from earlier, smiling and taking a bite of her sandwich. You were the last person Hoseok expected to see sitting with him. Maybe an old friend and very possibly Namjoon, but you? A cute barista he barely said one word to? Nope.

You blushed and started to speak, a hand covering her mouth to hide the food you were eating, “I hope you don’t mind me joining you for my lunch. I noticed you talking to Namjoon-ssi earlier and you’re reading one of my favorite books and I thought that it could be cool to meet and talk to you. I am Y/n by the way.” She smiled brightly and nodded lightly at Hoseok.

Hoseok laughed quietly and blushed himself before nodding with a smile, “I am Hoseok. Why is it your favorite book? Oh! And no spoilers! I just started the second part.”

“Ah! A bunch of good stuff is about to happen! I am warning you!” You laughed before taking a sip of your drink.

As you did so, Hoseok looked at what you brought with you, namely your lunch box. Hoseok knew that Namjoon built into the budget a small meal for each of the workers during their shift and it struck Hoseok as endearing that you brought your own food instead of eating the sugary sweets offered in the cafe. It was smart too. The sweets probably wouldn’t be the healthiest to eat daily and you could eat more if you packed your own food.

“I really enjoyed the story. It just… it traps you and doesn’t let you go. The author is really good about that in general with her works. I have read some of her other works and they’re so good!” You said, your eyes glued on the book splayed on the table and not Hoseok.

“I am learning that now.” Hoseok laughed, “This is my first time reading one of her works and I definitely want to read more of her stuff. I specifically enjoy how she is associating certain aspects of her world with different textures and feelings. ”

You nodded excitedly as Hoseok kept talking, your cheeks full of food as you ate. His heart fluttered endearingly as he watched you eat and talk about the book, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed with excitement. Time was moving almost as quickly as when he read the book and he enjoyed it. There was something fun about talking about a book with someone. He hadn’t done it since high school (Minjae was always more of a movie or show person and he did other things with other people). Until now, reading had been an activity he’d done alone. He found himself smiling and laughing more with you than he had in awhile. Maybe there was something fun about talking about books with others that Hoseok had been ignoring until now.

Maybe there was something magical about you.

Maybe it was how your eyes drew him in and kept him there. He didn’t fully know.

The fun didn’t last too long though. You came to talk during your lunch break and lunch breaks were short. It didn’t help that as they talked more and more, he started getting inspiration on some new pottery and he knew that he would need to start working on them soon or he might lose the idea (that or he’ll lose the inspiration).. Just to be safe, he excused himself after you finished eating your sandwich and made his way to his shop. He tried to ignore the image of you nodding and smiling sadly as he left that bounced around in his head but it was heard. You simply looked so adorable and he wish that he didn’t have to leave.

In fact, he thought about how he left Namjoon’s cafe in a rush many times over the following week. Regret stewed inside him the more time he dwelled on it and didn’t return to the cafe. He should have risked the idea for talking with you (his new creation barely sold so it probably wasn’t worth losing a conversation). He should have stayed longer. He should have asked you for your number. Then maybe he might have been able to ask you out to meet up (and maybe call it a date). Plus, if he had gotten your number then he might have had enough courage to reenter the shop instead of standing outside of the shop like an absolute buffoon every time he passed it. Like he was currently doing right now. Inside the shop, people were bustling around. A group of children had gathered there after school and were drinking some sort of milkshakes. People were simply sitting there and working. Friends were meeting up. You were working away behind the counter.

He was standing outside like a loser.

He wished that he had the gall to go in and order something (as well as as for your number) but all he could do was watch you flutter around behind the counter as you worked hard, his own heart fluttering and stuttering as he watched you work. Why was he chickening out? He didn’t have this issue when he officially asked Minjae out but with you Hoseok could barely manage to gather up courage to ask for your number. Maybe he wasn’t actually ready for a new relationship.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about possibly having one with you. Hoseok was so confused. Friends could ask for numbers too. It wasn’t inherently a romantic action. Hoseok liked the idea of it being a somewhat romantic action.

He didn’t have the courage to go in today sadly. Hoseok didn’t know when he would have the courage to.

With a disheartened sigh that seemed to cling in the air around him, Hoseok turned around and sat at the bench in front of the cafe. It overlooked streets that were surprisingly empty save for a bus or two. He watched as a couple walked hand in hand on the sidewalk across the street, dopey smiles on their face as they looked at each other.

A pang of jealousy bubbled up in his stomach as he stared at them. The two looked so happy and content. He wanted that. He wanted that with someone who wanted similar things out of a relationship (unlike Minjae). Hoseok could be the man across the street holding hands with a romantic partner if he just asked someone out.

“Crazy seeing you here, Hoseok-ssi.” Your voice shocked Hoseok out of his thoughts, making him jump and turn around to face you.

Your hair was frizzy from a long day of work but your eyes shone brightly, almost saying that you enjoyed every minute of the hard work you did. Hoseok understood that drive. Your navy blue apron complimented what you were wearing underneath too, over all you looked undeniably cute. You took Hoseok’s breath away. Even if you had coffee stains and looked like death, you would have taken Hoseok's breath away.

“Y-y-yeah! I… Uhhh… I was enjoying the view.” Hoseok managed to stutter out, turning red as he kept stuttering.

“Oh really? Street views are nice… Yet, I had hoped that you might have been thinking about coming into the cafe. Guess I was wrong.” You laughed, sitting next to Hoseok on the bench and taking out your lunch box, this time a dinner tucked neatly into it.

Hoseok spent a few seconds to look at the tattered lunch box. You must have had it for a while as there were scratches and dents on it that only came with time and repetitive use.

“I-I… well… I might have been thinking about going inside.”

“And what made you decide to not go inside? Did you want an actual dinner?” You laughed before putting some of your food into your mouth.

“Oh… Uh… no… I just… decided not to. Nothing against the cafe.”

“Ok. And how is the book going?”

“Uhh… It is going decent.”

Hoseok was kicking himself. Just a minute ago he was fantasizing about going on a date with you and thinking about how cute you were and now he could barely finish a sentence! How was he supposed to even possibly ask you out when he couldn’t even get out more than a four word sentence and you were carrying most of the conversation?

He was handsome, damn it!

He was a catch! Yet here he was getting flustered by a barista… what has he come to.

You weren’t just any barista though… You were a cute and interesting barista who liked similar books to him.

“Why’d you decide to come outside and eat instead of eating inside?” Hoseok finally asked, trying to push his nerves aside.

“Oh! Well… It’s hot and stuffy. Plus, you’re here. That helps.” You said quietly and from the corner of Hoseok’s eye he noticed you blush as you gently brushed your shoulder against his.

A fluttering in Hoseok’s heart made his response get stuck in his throat. What was that supposed to mean? Was she interested in him too? How was he supposed to interpret that?

He cleared his throat and spoke, “Yeah… You’re pretty cool too, I guess.”

What?

What is all he could say?

How lame!

“I mean, I think you’re cool. I just don’t know you much yet and don’t want to say something that might possibly be wrong… I don’t think you might not be cool though! I just-”

Your laugh interrupted Hoseok and struck him into silence. It was a melodious laugh that he could listen to for hours on end and never get bored.

“I am glad you think I am cool, Hoseok-ssi.” You said, turning towards Hoseok with a broad smile.

Hoseok’s heart was beating wildly now. Its erratic heartbeats weren’t ideal earlier when you were simply sitting next to him but now? How was he even supposed to focus with you staring at him intently? Especially with your lips looking like the perfect place for his own lips.

Unintentionally, Hoseok started to lean towards you.

They really did look wonderfully soft.

What was he thinking about?

You were practically a stranger! Even worse: you were Namjoon’s employee! For all he knew you were trying to use Hoseok to get a better pay.

But Namjoon paid his employees well… and most didn’t have tons of room to grow with the work as it was a small cafe.

“I enjoy your company too, Y/n-ssi.” Hoseok said with a cough as he turned to face the street again.

All of the sudden he was very focused on how hot he was feeling. It wasn’t summer but the heat was… present. He was probably blushing and sweating from the heat. Nothing else.

“Even if we have a conversation like this? Where we’re both awkward?” You asked with a strained laugh, leaning into Hoseok.

You had stopped eating.

“Uhh… y-y-yeah. I am having fun. Even if it doesn’t seem like I am.”

“So… would you enjoy my company if we… went on a date, Hoseok-ssi?” You asked slowly, your voice devoid of all laughter.

“Oh. I. Yeah! Totally.” Hoseok’s voice cracked and he leaned back and coughed to try to cover it up, “I mean… It’d be cool, I guess. Yeah. That would be nice.”

You giggled, “Wonderful. How does… Tomorrow at seven in the evening sound? We can meet up here and then go somewhere close by.”

That was so soon.

He could make it though.

“Yeah. That works.” Hoseok nodded, trying to ignore the incessant vibrations from his phone that was sitting in his pocket.

“Are you going to take that, Hoseok-ssi?” You asked with a small giggle, already going back to eating your food.

“Oh. Yeah.”

He quickly grabbed his phone and looked at who was calling. It was Jisoo, one of his employees.

“Hey… boss. I am sorry but uhh… I can’t make it to my shift. I have been vomiting nonstop. I think I have food poisoning. I am about to go to the hospital. I tried asking Jinyoung but apparently he is currently working and can’t do any more overtime. I am so sorry.” Jisoo spoke hurridly.

Hoseok winced at the connotation. He only had two employees aside from him and this meant that he would have to go in and keep the shop open until ten tonight. Five hours more of work and he needed to leave soon.

“Don’t worry, Jisoo. You didn’t intend to get sick. Take care.” Hoseok said before hanging up and looking over at you, “That is sadly my signal to go.”

You looked like a kicked puppy in that moment, a sad gaze growing as you looked up at Hoseok, “Ok. See you tomorrow.”

All while he walked away, he wished that he could turn around and spend the rest of your break together. He felt like an ass for leaving right after agreeing to a date but his shop needed him. It was the curse of a shop owner and it was a curse that Hoseok had chosen.

Of course, what he hadn’t realized until he got to his shop and Jinyoung had left was that he completely forgot to get your number once again.

He was such a damn idiot at times!

Now he couldn’t text you to fill the time that he was forced to work. He also couldn’t get any more information about your date. Would it be formal? Casual? Where were you going to take him? Should he get a gift for you?

It’d make sense that the two of you would be going on a date after your shift because otherwise why would he meet you at Namjoon’s cafe?

In the end Hoseok fretted all throughout his shift and the night about what he could possibly wear for his date tomorrow. Everything felt wrong and he had no idea what to do. Everything he did and tried on felt like not enough. Nothing felt right and for the first time in a while, he didn’t know what to do. First dates were hard and he didn’t know how to prepare.

He shaved and just barely missed twenty nics and even took a longer than normal to make sure that he wouldn’t stink during the date but what was he supposed to wear?

Despite his panicking and fears, Hoseok somehow managed to calm himself down to restlessly sleep that night and was even able to work in the morning. After work though, he was back to panicking. Somehow Hoseok managed to settle for wearing a simple pair of light blue jeans, one of his favorite large shirts with a smile on it, and his long tan jacket.

His whole afternoon bleed into itself and eventually Hoseok found himself sitting on the bench outside of Namjoon’s cafe, a single sunflower held loosely in his hands as he waited for you (he got it at some point between changing into his current clothes and coming here but he didn’t know if he could manage to pinpoint exactly when he had). He barely had enough sense to wear his jacket for when the sun set and it got cold (or if he had to hide in it if you ended up taking him to some fancy restaurant). He would feel so underdressed if you did.

Why would you though?

From what Hoseok understood, you were just coming off of work so you probably wouldn’t want to go to some fancy place. Plus, working in a cafe wasn’t going to get you too much money, even if one’s employer gave them a living wage. You’d probably be a little pressed for money.

If that was an issue though, Hoseok would be more than happy to pay but he wouldn’t care either way.

It also probably wasn’t Hoseok’s place to pry at this time either.

In a last ditch attempt to make sure he was ready for the date, he quickly tried to check his breath with his hand, only getting blasted with air in his face instead. How was he even supposed to check his breath with his hand?

Had his hair got messed up on his trip here?

Had they even agreed to meet here? Maybe you said a different place instead?

Just to check, he looked inside the cafe and didn’t see you there. It was almost seven so maybe you were in the back? Maybe he could just text Namjoon to make sure you were off at seven. Hoseok didn’t want to overstep yet.

“Are you looking for someone in there, Hoseok-ssi?” You asked from beside him, scaring him to the point that he jumped up and almost dropped the sunflower in his hands.

Once he managed to get his bearings again, his breath was taken away by how etheral you looked. There was almost no way that you had come from work, Hoseok was sure of that. Your hair was beautifully and simply styled and your outfit… Hoseok loved every bit of it. His heart fluttered slightly as he looked you over again (barely noticing the reddening blush growing on your face). You looked so good and for the umpteenth time that day, he questioned his own choice in clothes. He might be really underdressed.

Dress pants would have been better to wear instead of jeans. What was he thinking? He really goofed up.

“Y-You look wonderful tonight, Y/n-ssi.” Hoseok finally said, blushing lightly as you laughed quietly.

“So do you, Hoseok-ssi.” You complimented, a broad smile on your face as you stepped closer and looked down at the sunflower.

“I… Uhhh… I got this for you. I don’t know what your favorite flower is or if you even like flowers but I thought it would be nice.” He stuttered out, quickly giving the flower to you.

You looked up at Hoseok with a small laugh before saying, “I love it Hoseok-ssi. Shall we get to the restaurant? I got a reservation for seven thirty.”

“A reservation! I guess it is really fancy, huh?” Hoseok asked, rubbing his neck nervously as he started to walk with you.

“No. Not really. It is just popular and I didn’t want to have to spend the night looking for somewhere to eat. I hope you like Haemul Pajeon (vegetable pancake), I got us a reservation at a small place that is just about three blocks down the street. They make wonderful food.”

“I love the sound of that. How’s your day been so far, Y/n-ssi?” Hoseok asked, biting his lip to hide a large smile growing on his face.

Haemul Pajeon was one of his favorite foods… and Y/n was being so considerate. He was feeling so soft and mushy. How dare you make him feel so soft.

He loved it.

“It hasn’t been the best. I worked the morning shift and… well there are always rude customers but morning people have such a strange breed of rude customers.” You had started rambulling, animatedly gesturing and talking about the rude morning customers.

Hoseok simply watched and listened as you kept going on, a content and fuzzy feeling washing over him as he kept waking next to you. Occasionally your shoulders and hands brushed as you expertly led the way to the restaurant while ranting and while it left Hoseok reeling, it didn’t seem to phase you at all. He could live with that though. As long as you were happy.

In the midst of all your rambling about work, the two of you made it to the restaurant. It was at the bottom of a large building, the upper floors likely dedicated to apartments or business offices. Even from the outside, Hoseok could see a large mass of people jostling around in the restaurant. Large friend groups talking and moving around the restaurant drunkenly, couples draped over each other, and restaurant workers expertly weaving through the masses.

It was obviously a popular place and it made Hoseok just a little nervous. How would you and him get to talk much when all that was happening around you two? Maybe it would be more of a people watching event? One where he only really talked when it came to theories about other’s lives outside of this restaurant.

There wasn’t too much time to think though as the two quickly started walking inside. You only stopped talking after introducing yourself to the hostess. In the silence between you two, Hoseok looked around the restaurant. It looked different from the outside. Whereas earlier it looked as if it would be a party place, now that Hoseok was inside, he could see a semblance of organization to the chaos.

Despite both you and Hoseok not talking, there wasn’t a silence that fell. The whole of the restaurant was lively and filled with a soft amiability that Hoseok really enjoyed.

“Alright. Your reservation is ready. Please follow me.” The hostess said, bowing slightly before turning around and starting to weave through the tables.

Hoseok swallowed his nerves before he started walking in front of you (the three of you had to walk single file because the space was too small to walk side by side) and gently grabbed your hand from behind. People were bumping up against him as he quickly followed behind the hostess but his grip on you didn’t falter. He hoped that his hand wasn’t too sweaty and that he wasn’t gripping you too hard, but Hoseok was nervous and he didn’t want to lose you in the crowd (or let go of your hand yet).

The table that you had reserved was tucked in a corner and overlooked all of the action happening in the bar. There was a small candle lit between the two of you that flickered gently in the soft breeze created by the fans above. Hoseok liked the spot.

“I just realized,” You started with a laugh once you sat down, “I talked the whole walk here. Silly me. I got carried away. How has your day been so far?”

“I like listening to you talk so it’s ok. As for my day, it has been a good day. I didn’t make any more pottery, but I headed the shop and got some good work done there.” Hoseok started, a large smile on his face as he looked across the table at you.

“Oh! So you’re one of Namjoon’s business friends?”

Hoseok snorted at that. Namjoon did have a lot of business friends at this point.

“Yeah. I think I might be Namjoon’s first business friend though. We met in high school and have been friends since. Back in high school Namjoon wanted to be an astrologer believe it or not.”

“Oh? I wouldn’t have guessed!” You laughed, “So what do you do?”

“I am a potter. My shop is just two streets over from the cafe you work at.” Hoseok nodded.

“Own. Namjoon and I are co-owners. I run the front.” You corrected lightly, “How about we look at the menu?”

“Oh. Yeah. Let’s look.” Hoseok nodded along, somewhat caught off guard.

You were the co-owner? It made sense, Hoseok thought as he opened the menu, you looked like she belonged in that cafe. Plus, you were closer to Namjoon’s age than the other baristas' ages. He should have seen it coming.

After a few minutes of looking through the menu Hoseok spoke up, “So… have you figured out what you’re going to get?”

“Yeah. I am thinking of getting Haemul Pajeon with a side of chicken feet. What about you?”

“Uhhh… I think that I am going to get Haemul Pajeon as well but with a side of kimchi. I’m not too hungry today.” Hoseok laughed lightly thinking back to his two large stress induced meals earlier today.

You snorted and laughed lightly before taking a sip of your water, “I get that. Plus, the Haemul Pajeon are quite large. They have great deals.”

Shortly after you two decided, a waiter came by and took your order, and then Hoseok and you were left in amicable silence once again. He was a ball of nerves once again and he had no idea of where to go from here… He wasn’t this anxious when he started dating Minjae… why was it so hard with you? Maybe because he was genuinely interested in you from the start and he was scared of screwing it up. Maybe because he had just spent most of the day fretting over this date and now that it was here, he realized that he didn’t think over the right stuff.

“So,” Hoseok coughed lightly, hoping to clear his throat some, “Do you come to this restaurant often?”

“Not really. I came here the first night I moved into the apartment complex above the cafe but since then I haven’t. I actually came here on my own and just sat at the bar and talked to random strangers. It is amazing to see what conversations one can have when they’re open to it.” You said with a smile as you looked over at the bustling bar space.

“I can imagine. I haven’t gone to bars much so I don’t have such conversations often but I have never had a dull conversation.” Hoseok said wistfully, thinking back to some of the talks that he had when he volunteered to help the homeless back in Gwangju. He wanted to keep up the volunteer work when he moved to Seoul but it simply didn’t happen. He got carried away with his studies and his life and service work simply got put on a backburner.

“Yeah? I doubt that, Hoseok-ssi.” You laughed, “I can’t believe you’ve never had a dull conversation. Not even one with a boring professor?”

Hoseok laughed lightly and shrugged, “I mean, I guess you could count some of those conversations as dull. I guess I was more thinking about general conversations with people… not cardboard cutouts.”

You snorted at this before taking a large sip of your water, blush rising quickly on your face. A sense of pride washed over Hoseok at your reaction. He had made you laugh. It felt good to make someone smile this much.

“I loved most of my professors, don’t get me wrong. They were amazing, but oh my gosh. Ask Namjoon about Professor Gaewon who taught our Stat 240. He was such a snore.” Hoseok started animatedly, smiling as you laughed again, “Even for me and I double majored in Statistics and Business. Dude could put me to sleep in seconds. Lecture or not. I went to one of his office hours once and it was even worse.”

“Oh really?” You asked with a laugh, raising your eyebrows and looking at him with a lopsided grin.

“Oh yeah! I wanted to know a little more information about some complicated statistic and the details and whatnot, nerdy stuff really. He got so excited but you couldn’t tell because he talked in such a monotone voice,” Hoseok smiled brightly before he started mimicking Professor Gaewon, “This statistic, blah blah blah. It is interesting stuff.”

You were laughing uncontrollably at this point and Hoseok couldn’t help but indulge in the butterflies that fluttered wildly in his stomach. This was amazing.

“Needless to say, I didn’t go to his office hours after that.”

You nodded, “I didn’t have anything like that in college. I mean, I was also not a business major and didn’t have to take any stat classes but I mostly got a lot of very pretentious professors who had written books or wild professors who I loved. I didn’t enjoy the former.” You laughed lightly and shook your head, “They seemed to think that they knew everything. It was painful.”

“Oh? What’d you major in?”

“I double majored in Literature and History. I love it. Don’t use it much with my work but that is ok.” You said, coming to a stop when the waitress came with sides for the food.

You and Hoseok slightly bowed to the waiter before turning back to each other and smiling. For a couple minutes, the conversation died down and the noise of the restaurant around you two filled the air as both of you indulged in the sides. Before you and Hoseok had time to continue conversing, the waiter returned and gave both of you your Haemul Pajeon and the two of you dug in All throughout eating, the two of you made comments about how the Haemul Pajeon compared to what you two had had in the past.

Somehow, all the time in the restaurant blurred together and before he even knew it, the two of them were back at Namjoon’s and your cafe. It had closed by now, the windows dark and reflecting the party life outside.

“Well… this was a great night, Hoseok-ssi.” You said, swaying forwards and backwards with a soft and happy smile plastered across your face.

Hoseok felt giddy looking at you. How did he get so lucky to have you ask him out?

“It was. I would love to do it again sometime.”

“Yeah.” You giggled and bit your lip as you asked.

“Yeah.” Hoseok nodded, biting his own lip as he took a step closer to you.

You took a step closer to him as well, your smile growing as you reached out and grabbed Hoseok’s waist. He leaned closer at this and gently pressed his lips against yours, you quickly reciprocating. His hands rose to cup your face as the kiss got heated, soon enough tongues starting to intertwine.

A moan left him as you broke the kiss, a sly smile spreading on your face, “You may have to work for my phone number first, Hoseok-ssi.”

He groaned quietly and smiled, his hands sliding down your soft face to your shoulders, “Well then, can I get your number then, Y/n-ssi?”

You took a step away from Hoseok and giggled as his hands fell to his sides, “Nope. Try again tomorrow… then I will consider. Until then, good night, Hoseok-ssi.”

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