#People who film him on the street.... just wait five seconds and he's gonna turn around and take a picture with you ffs

[gayferrari]

From an ethical standpoint I’m just glad he has a dog rn and not a child bc I fear for the internet footprint of the hypothetical charles baby

I genuinely don't! I think Charles is actually really good at preserving his privacy when he really cares about it. He was very lowkey with his current girlfriend until about a year into it — he did the same when he was first dating Charlotte, although his profile skyrocketed since then, and still managed to keep it fairly quiet. He CAN go off the grid when he wants to, and we actually know very little about his family besides what they willingly choose to share. IMO the thing about Charles is that he actually enjoys being famous but overall he's way better at good at keeping some aspects of his life out of the public eye than some people think. If he wanted more privacy (and I think in that case he would, imo) he could do it

[pinkbrries]

𝐀 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝.

➞ SUMMARY. Maybe making new friends wasn’t that bad at all, right?

↳ TW: nothing? as far as i know

↳ WORD COUNT: 1.7k words

➞ ERA: PRE-DEBUT

↳ [a/n: here is full scenario for june!! we love to see it<3 finally we know who is the best friend june was referring to👁👁 hope u enjoy this one !!] // bold words are in english // this is not proofread

SUMMER OF 2012

“Can you please hurry up, Junnie? We’re gonna be late!” A scoff is heard and then, the woman part of the staff gasps in feigned shock, “ya! don’t give me that attitude, young lady!”

One small chuckle can be heard, followed by the sound of light steps making their way to the front door: a ten-year-old june appears on the sight of the woman, the usual bright smile she always wears is adorning her face.

“Sorry unnie! I was just trying really hard to make my ponytail look good,” she pouts as she walks out of the room and closes the door behind her, seeing that her friends were already walking towards the elevator and pressing the button to call the metallic box over. “You know how ugly can get after the dance class!”

The woman slightly laughs, patting her shoulder and nodding. “You’re right, Minjun.”

Entering the elevator and hearing her friends talk, June starts wondering what she was going to be learning in today’s class, a tingle of excitement spreads through her tiny body and she can’t help but smile again at the thought.

This was her second year as a trainee, but she was the youngest out of the selected group to travel to Los Angeles and train there for a month during summer to refine their skills.

Minjun always wanted to go on a summer camp just like her friends back in England, and even if the experience wasn’t even a close one (because her friends would play around and Minjun would have to train from early morning until seven p.m), it was good enough for her.

Stretching has always been the easiest part for June, it was as if she was born to do this.

People around her that would also take the class were always nagging about stretching, but to her, it was her favorite part.

It allowed June to think about stuff like, how the weather was so hot in Los Angeles and how she preferred the cold season because it reminded her of the white-ish snow falling on the green, pine trees outside her house back in London, or how people here didn’t say ‘pardon’ and instead said ‘sorry’ if someone accidentally crashed with you on the busy downtown streets.

Or how there was a boy sitting on the other side of the busting room, a slight older boy that she hasn’t seen before (and well, it’s not like she has been in LA for a lot of days, since they had arrived like, four days ago) but it definitely sparked curiosity in her since… well,

He looked like he knew what he was actually doing.

“Okay, perfect! Let’s take a break,” the choreographer claps while turning around to face the class, “we’ll start filming in five, okay?”

She hears humming and more affirmative responses around her, the choreographer walks away and June takes this little time given to steal some more glances at the newcomer without getting distracted.

“—He looks korean,” she hears one of the trainees sitting beside her whispering and nodding, “I think Yoonah said she heard him talking in korean.”

“He’s a trainee… and I think he’s the only one from his company, I saw him entering with two persons, they told him they would be waiting outside—“

“How do you know that, Minkyu!?”

The boy raises both shoulders, a cheeky smile adorning his face. “I don’t know, maybe I just overheard a little.”

“Maybe you’re just nosy,” Moon, another girl there, rolls her eyes. And while the group of trainees starts discussing and laughing, June decides on taking mental notes about the lonely boy sitting in a corner of the crowded room.

He looked like he was kinda the same age as her, maybe a little bit older like the trainees that were with her, he had dark hair and kind but shy brown eyes, and he looked pretty tall.

Pouting in thought, she glances at the group of people beside her, and then she returns her eyes towards the stranger.

Yeah, June liked the other trainees, but they were… not her type of people at all. Sometimes they were a little too competitive with each other, and while Minjun tried to keep it friendly with all of them, she knew she couldn’t trust them since they always bad mouthed each other at their backs, as if that would make them debut or something.

Sigh. Maybe making new friends wasn’t that bad at all, right?

Standing from her seat, she makes her direction towards the stranger that captivated her curiosity, smiling a little when he looks up and locks eyes with her.

“Hi, hello!” Minjun says with an excited tone, standing in front of the boy and waving her hand in enthusiasm.

The boy went from confused, to nervous, to confused again, the timid boy blinks twice and mutters a greeting back, his hesitant hands doing an awkward gesture, making June smile.

In less than five seconds, June decides that she likes him because he seemed kind enough for her, and yeah, she might be ten and maybe she didn’t not know a lot about life, but this young stranger seemed nice.

Sitting in front of him and crossing her legs, Minjun beams brightly at him, extending a hand to greet him.

“Hi! My name is June, what’s your name?” Before the boy can answer, June gasps when she suddenly remembers something, “oh wait, do you speak korean? Because I do. Do you want us to speak in korean or english?”

Stunned by the sudden words coming quickly by the shorter girl’s mouth, the dark haired boy can’t help but let out a giggle.

“Uhm—,” he smiles slightly, extending his hand too so he can answer the greeting. “Yes, I’m korean, I don’t know a lot of english, so—“

“It’s okay! I’m korean too!” June interrupts again, and just like that, she starts making small conversation with the boy.

To the boy, there was something peculiar about how the girl talked with him with so much emotion: as if the both of them have been friends of each other for years and they just met after so long. It was a pleasing feeling; it made him feel comfortable and like home.

That afternoon, Minjun spends her time getting to know someone new, and when her time of training that day is almost over, she realizes that maybe she just found someone that really understands her.

The dark haired boy is four years older than her, he’s from Busan, and he’s also a trainee (so the information she overheard by her fellow company trainees was right) from a small company, the company’s name not really sticking to her.

“So, you’re debuting in a year?” June asks, eyes widening at the new information she just discovered. The boy nods.

“Yeah, I started training some months ago but my dance skills are… not that advanced,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck in slight embarrassment, June giggles at that. “So my company decided on sending me here to take some lessons.”

June hums, pouting, deep in thought.

Walking together to where their water bottles were located, June grabs her drink but doesn’t open it, instead, she just admires the object between both of her hands.

“Debut”; a word that every single trainee gets prepared to hear, and it usually means good news. It means that your hard work has finally paid off, that you’re going to show the world what you’re capable of.

A word that Minjun only has heard, but it was never directed to her.

He’s debuting in a year, and he just trained for months… must be nice.

“What about you, June?”

“Hmm?”

Taking her out of her deep thoughts, the boy gulps down the rest of his water and cleans his mouth with the back of his hand, a sheepish smile adorning his lips.

“What about you?” he repeats the same question, tilting his head a little, “when are you debuting?”

“Oh–“

Yeah, “oh.”

“–Uhm,” the girl hesitates for a second, shrugging and trying to smile again, “I don’t know, uhm, actually this is my second year as a trainee, but— but I’m sure that, maybe when I go back to Korea, I’ll get put in a line-up!”

The boy nods excitedly, giving her a thumbs up. “I’m sure your company will debut you soon! You’re really talented!”

June lights up upon hearing this, and before she can answer, a call of her name makes the both of them turn their gazes to where the voice is coming from.

It was Minjun’s manager.

“Minjun-ah, it’s time to go!”

She looks up at the clock hanging up on the wall, widening her eyes at seeing that her lessons are already over. She sighs.

“Coming!”

“We’ll be waiting for you outside!”

She just nods, looking again at the taller boy in front of her. He gives her a toothy grin, nodding.

“I guess we’ll keep seeing each other, right?”

She giggles, “I come to this studio three times a week, tomorrow I have lessons on a different one,” she adds, the boy’s shoulders dropping at hearing that. “But! wait, does your company let you use a phone?” He nods, “give me your number and your kakaotalk id! We can keep communicating there!”

“Of course!”

Minjun runs towards her bag, takes out a tiny notebook and her glittery gel pink pen and hands it out to the boy, making him laugh.

After the exchange of numbers, she waves goodbye to the boy and high-fives with him, making a promise on seeing each other again.

Minjun starts walking away, eyeing the boy’s cute handwriting and— wait.

She doesn’t even know his name!

“Hey!” She runs back quickly, taking out the pen, the boy looking at her in expectation. “What’s your name?”

The boy can’t help but start laughing, realizing that he never gave her his name, but they spent all day talking and laughing together.

“Jungkook. My name is Jeon Jungkook.”

Scribbling it down, she nods and gives him a thumbs up.

“Nice to meet you Jungkook oppa!” Minjun says enthusiastically, walking backwards while waving him goodbye, “hope we can meet again soon!”

And just like that, the girl turns around and starts running towards the main gate, a 14-year-old Jungkook watching her disappear with a smile adorning his features.

taglist: @curly-fr13s

[heyyyharry]

Deja Vu (part 2 of 'Drivers License')

(inspired by deja vu by Olivia Rodrigo)

Word count: 2.5k

Read part 1 here

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“What the fuck is this?”

Harry flinched as his girlfriend shoved the phone at him. He’d just got out of the shower, hair still dripping wet, but it wasn’t so out of the ordinary that she would start a fight first thing in the morning.

He sighed and gently pushed her phone away from his face. “Baby, if it’s another rumour about me cheating on you...I was with you this whole week!”

“No.” She lifted the phone up to his face again. “That girl just released another song about you.”

Even though Harry didn’t let it show, whenever he heard about Y/N, his heart would always skip a beat. He couldn’t remember exactly when the last time they’d spoken was, but he knew in his last message to her, he’d congratulated her on that new song about him. She’d never replied, and he’d taken it as the answer — they could never go back to the way it was.

It had broken his heart to listen to ‘drivers license’. Y/N had never been the kind of person to be vocal about her feelings. Or maybe she’d expressed it through actions instead of words, and he had been too nonchalant to see? He hadn’t meant to break her heart and leave her in the dust. After all, she used to be his best friend.

“Y/N’s a songwriter. She writes about her own experience the same way I do. Maybe that song is not even about me, babe,” he calmly told his girlfriend, who was standing in front of him with fresh tears in her eyes. He hated to see her cry, and he hated that this wasn’t the first time she’d done it because of him. He tried to reach for her but she stepped back, shaking her head.

“Listen to the song.”

“Baby.”

“Listen to the song,” his girlfriend repeated without looking at him. “Why are you so afraid?”

“I’m not.”

“Then listen to it and tell me it’s not about you, and that she’s not throwing shades at me. I’m so tired of this girl telling the world about how horrible we are as if you had even dated her in the first place—”

“Fine,” Harry exhaled sharply, his eyes pinched shut. He hated that when his girlfriend got mad, she would get so mean for no reason, and the last thing he wanted to hear right now was her insulting Y/N. He knew Y/N. She had always been respectful to his new relationship. However, he wasn’t in the position to tell his girlfriend how to feel about this situation. He knew it was all his fault, so he stayed quiet, took the phone from his girlfriend and sat down on the edge of the bed. His girlfriend stood with her back against the wall facing him, waiting for him to play the song so she could see his reaction to it.

“Go on,” she told him, her voice emotionless.

Harry looked at the song on Spotify. It was titled deja vu. He took a deep breath and one last look at his girlfriend before finding enough courage to press play.

Y/N’s previous song about him had been blasted in every shop he’d visited, all the time when he was filming, every time he was in the car, and now, the moment he heard her voice again, it really did feel like deja vu.

Car rides down Malibu

Strawberry ice cream

One spoon for two…

.

.

.

“Are we there yet?”

“No, stop being so impatient! Just keep on driving!” Y/N said and looked out of the window on the passenger side. The sun was going down, and the horizon was gradually turning the colour of an egg yolk. It was their last day in Miami. They had been filming for every day that week, and this was the only day they could spend just for themselves.

Harry stole a glance at Y/N and saw that she’d finished half the strawberry ice cream while bobbing her head to the song Uptown Girl on the radio. He frowned, making her laugh when she noticed.

“Open your mouth,” she said and fed him a spoon of ice cream.

“Ahh, brain freeze!”

“But it’s good, isn’t it?”

“So good.” Harry licked his lips. The face he made got Y/N laughing harder.

Fifteen minutes later they arrived at a secluded beach. Y/N had found this place when she traveled to this city alone two summers ago and almost got lost.

Together, she and Harry carried their picnic things through a palm forest, and by the time they saw the ocean, the moon had made a fading presence on the pink Miami sky.

Y/N picked up her shoes and ran towards the waves, letting it chase her back into Harry’s arms and nearly knocking him over. Their laughter echoed in the wind as their shadows stretched out long and lanky on the empty beach. In that very moment, it felt to Harry as if they were the only people in this world, and he had a sense of peace that he might never be able to experience again.

“You don’t get to see this in the city,” Y/N said dreamily as she pulled Harry’s jacket tighter around herself. It was dark now, and the sky above them was full of stars. They sat shoulder to shoulder on a picnic blanket, listening to the whispers of the ocean and the wind. Harry used Y/N’s jacket as a blanket because it was too small for him to put on. They’d laughed for five minutes straight when she told him he looked like that monkey from Aladdin and took plenty of photos just to prove the point.

“I don’t want to leave tomorrow,” he said, still looking at the sky.

“Me neither,” Y/N sighed, her shoulder brushing his. There was a pause, and he could feel her eyes on him, so he turned and saw her looking. “When I get home,” she said with a small smile that made her eyes sparkle, “I’ll learn to drive, and when we come to Miami next time, I can drive you to this beach.”

“I’d love that,” Harry said, then made her pink-promise him.

.

.

.

“They went to Miami last week.”

Y/N blinked. The beach and starry sky disappeared in a second, and she found herself once again standing in the fitting room with her stylist and best friend.

“What?” her best friend marched over to where she stood in front of the full-length mirror.

Her stylist was holding the phone up to show her the article. “Here. Harry took that actress to Miami last week.”

“Don’t show her these!” Y/N’s best friend grabbed the phone and put it on the vanity desk as she gestured to the stylist. “You do your work. Enough chit-chatting.”

“I took him there,” Y/N said. She didn’t even recognise her own voice at first because she was too in shock. She didn’t think Harry would do something like that. But let’s be honest -- how much did she really know about him?

It had been a few months since his last text to her, which she had ignored, and now her song had been overplayed, and nobody cared about the drama anymore. The whole world had moved on, and she had, too. Or so she’d thought. Now, seeing these pictures of him and his girlfriend on that Miami beach made Y/N feel betrayed.

“Asshole,” her best friend said and grabbed her shoulders. “Don’t worry baby. You’re prettier.”

Y/N worked up a smile and opened her mouth to say that she was fine, but then she heard someone call her name and turn around. They weren’t calling for her. Just a name similar to hers that had become an inside joke between her and her friends.

The moment she locked eyes with Harry’s girlfriend, her heart seemed to stop as she held her breath, her lips thinned as if to hold back a scream. She didn’t know the girl personally and had never run into her before today. How unfortunate that they had to be in the same room after Y/N had seen those Miami pics.

“What is she doing here?” Y/N’s best friend asked the stylist the question Y/N was too afraid to ask.

“Fitting for an event, I guess,” the stylist said.

Y/N told them to just ignore the others and mind their own business. The sooner they got the measurements, the faster she could leave. Or she could leave right now and come back another day, but that would make it look like the other girl’s presence was bothering her. They were both actresses, and so they would have to run into each other at some point. She must be professional about it. This was normal. Just act normal.

“He’s so unique,” Harry’s girlfriend said while laughing with her team. Y/N didn’t mean to overhear the conversation, but apparently, the girl was making sure that Y/N heard her loud and clear. “We were watching reruns of Glee last night, and he even sang to me and told me he loved me inbetween the chorus and the verse. Don’t touch the jacket! It’s Harry’s and it’s Gucci. We exchange jackets sometimes. Isn’t that adorable?”

“Show off,” Y/N’s best friend scoffed while shaking her head.

Y/N didn’t say anything. In her mind, she agreed with her best friend for a second and immediately felt that she was being petty so she forced herself to just be nonchalant about it.

She could not. She could not ignore the fact that she’d been replaced as if she didn’t matter. Harry was doing all the things he used to do with her with his new girl. Even taken her to that Miami beach. Their place.

Y/N bit her lip and tried to hold back the half-formed tears in her eyes as the stylist went on talking about the fabric. She chose a random one just to get this over with.

“I hope that fucker gets deja vu.”

“What?” Y/N blinked at her best friend, who gave a mean shrug as she glared at the girl.

“He’s probably thinking of you while doing all that shit with her.”

Y/N pondered over it. Over and over. Even after the girlfriend’s laughter had faded down the hallway, and Y/N was also packing up to leave the studio. Her best friend’s words stayed with her as she got into the car and watched the street of London pass by her window.

That night, when she was alone in her living room with her piano. She sat down and started playing a few experimental chords. Then, she cried. Her tears blurred the handwritten lyrics on her notebook as she tried again.

“I have this idea,” she told her manager on the phone before sending the recording. It was three in the morning.

“Oh my god,” her manager exclaimed, sounding much more enthusiastic than he had when picking up her call. “This song...is so gonna win a Grammy!”

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.

.

Y/N’s song had won a Grammy.

They had talked about it for so long. Harry had encouraged her to pursue a singing career, because she’d started out as an actress but was blessed with the most beautiful voice he had ever heard.

Ironic, wasn’t it? Now he was sitting at the front row and looking up at her as she received the award from an artist she looked up to, for the song written about him. She smiled at the crowd as the light shone on her and everyone was cheering because she deserved this. She said her thanks and expressed her gratitude to her family, her teams and her fans. She didn’t say his name. He hadn’t hoped that she would, because he knew there was no way his name would come with a positive message. So he was kind of glad she hadn’t mentioned him.

His girlfriend squeezed his arm as if she knew what he was thinking of. He smiled at his girlfriend. A smile of reassurance. They had put it behind them and promised to try again after all the fights about the song they were playing right now. Nothing would change after tonight. Because there was nothing Harry could change.

He caught Y/N’s eyes for one brief moment as she ascended the stage. Although he was sure he loved his girlfriend, there was something about that look that made him sad. Would he be happier to come here with Y/N tonight instead of his girlfriend? He wouldn’t know, because that would never happen. He didn’t even know if she still resented him, or if she was still the same person he remembered. A lot could change in a day let alone many months. And it was scary to think someone you used to know so much had become a complete stranger. The opposite of love wasn’t hate. It was indifference. And Harry felt it deeply as Y/N never paid him a second glance.

At the after-party, he worked up the courage to approach her when he found her standing alone texting on her phone.

“Hi. How are you?” he said.

Y/N looked at him as if she couldn’t understand English. If she ignored him and walked away, this would be the most humiliating moment of his life.

But no. She pressed her lips into a gentle smile and said, “I’m good. How are you?”

“Good.” He nodded, wanting to shake her hand, but his fingers stayed glued together behind his back. “Congratulations on your win.”

“Thank you.” She picked up the glass of wine on the table beside them, and Harry knew he’d lost his chance of shaking her hand tonight. “Did you like the song?”

“Yeah. It was good,” he said, finding it difficult to hold eye contact with her. There was something new about her that unsettled him, and he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For speaking out about it.”

“Oh.” Y/N showed no emotion as she shrugged. “It’s alright. I only said the truth. The song was fictional, and I don’t want anyone to get hate for it.”

They both knew it wasn’t true, and he couldn’t tell her that his girlfriend had almost broken up with him for it. Even if he had told her that, he didn’t think Y/N would care. She didn’t look like the Y/N he knew anymore. Suddenly, he recalled that night on the beach, when she was still looking at him with feelings.

“Look, Y/N, I—”

Before he got a chance to form a proper thought for what he was going to say, his girlfriend, who was obviously drunk, shouted from somewhere behind him. “Babe, Jeff’s wearing a tiny jacket! He looks more like the monkey than you!”

Harry looked at Y/N. She held his gaze. The corners of her red lips quirked as she raised her glass. “Deja vu?”

Just like that, she left him standing there all by himself.

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Seventeen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: 70% of this fic is written on my phone lying on my side in bed while using swipe typing bc im too lazy to type out words and it shows

TW: discussion of SA

***

Nesta has an easier time adjusting to a third person in the cabin than she thought she would. Maybe it’s because Azriel indeed minds his business, and half the time Nesta isn’t aware he’s there at all.

Cassian seems to be more irritated by it than anyone else—not his brother, of course, but the fact that he and Nesta no longer exist in their own little bubble. Which is how he ends up at Nesta’s apartment with an overnight bag, sprawled out stomach-down on her mattress while she gets ready for bed.

“TV show or movie?” he asks, clicking through her laptop. Shows are Nesta’s thing and movies are Cassian’s; she feels generous enough tonight to say, “Movie.”

“Thank god,” he mutters, typing something on the laptop. “There’s a Turkish horror flick that I was saving for you.”

“Where do you even find these films?” Grabbing her hairbrush, she flops onto the bed beside him and starts brushing out her brassy locks. Before he can answer, Nesta’s phone buzzes from the stool she uses as a bedside table. Feyre’s name flashes on the screen.

Nesta frowns, but picks up without a second thought. “What is it?”

“Nothing serious,” her sister replies. “Just checking in.”

Before Cassian, Nesta didn’t very much understand the purpose of “checking in” without reason. Now she empathizes with Feyre a little. “I’m fine,” she says.

Deciding she can do better than that, she adds, “Cassian and I are about to start a movie.”

“Is it his choice? I’m so sorry for you.”

Nesta peeks over to where Cassian is still intently searching for his obscure movie and smiles a little. “I like Turkish horror,” she replies.

Cassian overhears and grins approvingly.

“Well, I’m looking at wedding dresses with Rhys so he can prepare for when he inevitably proposes,” Feyre says. “In case you wanted to know.”

Nesta did not particularly want to know, but she doesn’t say this. “Sounds fun. Is that it?”

“For what?”

“This conversation.”

Feyre sighs over the line. “Yes, I’ll let you go now. Thanks for picking up.”

The bar is in hell, Nesta thinks. Mostly because she put it there, but she still feels embarrassed to be congratulated over such small things. “Thanks for keeping it short.”

She’s about to hang up when she hears a male voice speak up in the background, and Feyre interrupts, “Wait—before you go, can you tell Cassian to call Rhys back? He wants Cass’s help picking a new team leader for the Italy project.”

Nesta has no idea what that is, but she says, “Sure, fine.” They say their goodbyes and hang up.

“What’d she want?” Cassian says without looking over at her.

“She said Rhys wants you to call him about the Italy project.”

Cassian turns toward her, half sitting up. “Really? What for?”

“Something about picking a team leader.” She returns to brushing her hair. “Why? What’s the Italy project?”

“Something I thought we put aside for good,” he grumbles. “It’s a year-long overseas project in Milan. Rhys thinks it’s gonna bring in a shit ton of money.”

“Sounds big. What do you have to do with it, though?” She’s never heard of Cassian being involved in Night Court’s international operations, even though he takes on more work than the usual employee.

Cassian shrugs, going back to movie searching. “He wanted me to be the one leading the team, and I guess he still feels petty about me turning him down. Honestly, choosing team leaders outside of my department isn’t even part of my jurisdiction.”

Nesta hesitates. “He offered you the job? When?” She didn’t know this.

“On New Year’s.”

“And you turned it down?”

“Yeah.” Cassian clicks on a link that looks like it’ll plant fifteen different viruses in Nesta’s laptop. “Found the movie,” he says.

“Why would you do that?” Nesta demands.

“The movie?”

“The job offer! Why would you turn down such a big opportunity without even telling me?”

Cassian laughs in confusion. “Are you angry right now?”

She’s astonished at his nonchalance. “Cassian,” she says. “It’s Italy.”

Italy with the art and history and seaside beauty—it’s on their top five places to see before they die.

“It’s Milan,” he says like there’s a difference, “and it’s an entire year away from you.” He shakes his head, sitting up to face her. “Are you out of your mind?”

She goes still. “Don’t tell me you said no because of me.”

“Of course I said no because of you.”

“It’s your dream job!” she bursts. “Traveling, exploring, being on your own—”

“Those are our dreams. I made those plans with you. The hell am I supposed to do all the way in Italy without you?”

“You sound codependent,” she retorts.

He narrows his brows. “Like you wouldn’t do the same thing in my position?”

He’s right, of course. Nesta would do the exact same thing for him. But Nesta and Cassian are not the same, and they both know it. “You can’t make that comparison,” she sighs.

“Why not?” he demands.

“Because—” She struggles to put it into words. “I would give up a long distance job for you because it would be worth it. You’re worth it. It doesn’t work the other way around.”

“Again: why the fuck not?”

So he’s really going to make her spell it out. “Because you’re a good boyfriend. You’re affectionate and caring, you always go the extra mile for those you love, and you come with all these free perks. It’s a great deal. And I’m not anything terrible, but I’m the bare minimum compared to you. Why would you give up Italy for the bare minimum?”

Cassian looks at her in disbelief. “I don’t even know how you can say so many wrong things in a row.”

“He’s blinded by love,” Nesta mutters to herself.

“First of all,” he holds up a finger, “I don’t know where you learned to compare yourself to me, but I don’t like it. You make it sound like I need to be paid back for every half-decent thing I do, and that is not the case at all.”

“Of course you think that,” she says. “You wouldn’t be a good person if you didn’t.”

“Then let me be a blunt person.” He puts a hand on her knee and looks her in the eye. “You will never be like me. Very few people are; you can’t take it personally.”

“Oh my god.” Her eyes might roll out of her head.

“But you’re not the bare minimum. Not even close.” He states it like an undeniable fact.

“How so?” she challenges.

“Like how Elain told me about this boy who broke her heart in her high school, and how the next day he walked into class in a leg cast. And how she just knew you had something to do with it, and you two had a huge fight about it that lasted a week.”

Nesta does not enjoy that memory being brought up. Elain called her a psychopath for the incident, and to save her feelings, Nesta (rather unconvincingly) said it had been an accident.

“I didn’t push anybody into a creek,” she maintains the lie. “Sometimes people just fall down there.”

“To be fair, you’re a lot more stable now than you were then. Now when people hurt those you care about, you find sneakier ways to hurt them back. Don’t you?”

“I do not,” Nesta defends.

“Really? Because Eris texted me earlier saying you’ve been ignoring him since New Year’s, and he’s starting to get worried that you have something heinous planned for him. I asked him why he would ever think such a thing of you.” Cassian leans forward and rests his chin on her shoulder. “Why would he think such a thing of you, Nesta?”

Cassian looks pretty well off from here, doesn’t he? She remembers Eris’s smug face. Did you know Rhysand’s parents found him sleeping in the streets?

“Because he said a bad thing,” Nesta says, looking down at her fingernails. “And I have an unfortunate reputation at school for getting back at people who say bad things.” Like the time Brian O’Connell made jokes about a rape trial the class was studying, and then couldn’t find an internship at a single firm the following summer.

“And what did he say? Because I can’t imagine he would directly insult you. He actually likes you, ass that he is.” His face is warm so close to her neck.

She looks away. “I won’t repeat it.”

That seems to be all Cassian needs to get an idea of what Eris said. “And how long are you planning on holding it against him?”

“Forever.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Nesta meets the eyes that haven’t left her face this entire time and snorts. “What’s your point?” Seriously, she’s starting to redden at how close he is.

He buries his face in her neck, his stubble rasping against the sensitive skin there. “The point is that you also do a lot for the people you love. Just in a different way.” He pulls away to look her in the eye. “Don’t do anything to Eris, though,” he says. “Not that I care for him or his shit opinions, but whatever you have planned isn’t worth it.”

Nesta wants to scoff in disbelief at the sincerity on Cassian’s face. He’s always choosing kindness, even at the worst moments. “So that’s your argument?” she says. “You won’t go to Italy because your girlfriend has a bad temper and a taste for revenge?”

“That’s my final argument, Your Honor.” He takes her hand. “Forget Milan, will you? One day I’ll take you to Portofino.”

The longer Nesta knows Cassian, the more she finds it useless to hide from him. Which is why she lets him watch the thoughts flit across her face as she considers his words, deciding whether she believes him. Deciding whether he’s right to give her so much devotion.

“Fine,” she finally says. “You’re right.”

A slow smile spreads across his face as he realizes he won. Wrapping his arms around Nesta’s waist and legs, he hauls her into his lap and shifts around until they’re both comfortable. The movie is forgotten for now.

“Out of curiosity…” He noses at the nape of her neck. “What did Eris say about me to make you so angry?”

When Nesta doesn’t answer, he says, “I’ve already heard everything that could possibly be said. The shit that used to get me when I was eighteen doesn’t have the same hold on me a decade later.”

She lets herself relax into his hold. “It was about the time you spent as an orphan.” Technically, he’s still an orphan, but it was different back then. “I didn’t like the tone of his voice.”

Cassian’s answering hum is a low rumble against her shirt. “Did you know my biological father was from Italy?”

Nesta perks up at that. “No.” She assumed he was entirely Algerian, even though he and Azriel probably look ethnically ambiguous to most. “Isn’t that all the more reason to see Italy someday?”

“Not at all,” he says. “If I could pretend that half of me didn’t exist, I would.”

She can’t think of a response that doesn’t involve a question, so she doesn’t reply. She waits for Cassian to speak on his own terms.

“I went to Italy once,” he admits. “For less than a day while my brothers were partying in Monte Carlo. I was young and stupid, and thought I would never be complete if I didn’t know who my father was.”

“Who was he?” She doesn’t know why she’s whispering.

“No one worth remembering,” Cassian says, his arms unconsciously tightening around her. “I put some dots together and realized how he and my mother must have met, how he must’ve—forced himself on her, and I decided that I didn’t care about bloodlines at all. I never returned to Italy after that.”

Nesta’s hands want to reach out and touch him, soothe him. But her muscles are suddenly very cold, and she can only stiffen. “And what about now? Do you… not want to go back?”

“It’s just a place to me,” he says. “Nothing special, nothing terrible. But I like the way it sounds when you talk about it.” His eyes sparkle. “I’d like to pretend it’s my first time going with you.”

“Alright, then.” She nods. “One day, we’ll go together. It’ll be our first time.”

***

Cassian refuses to let Nesta leave bed the next morning, dragging his heavy mouth across her body whenever she tries to get up. She’s about to surrender to him altogether when her phone starts vibrating loudly, insistently.

Breaking away from Cassian’s attempt at cuddling, she answers without checking the caller ID. “Yes?” she croaks sleepily.

“Where the hell have you been?” Emerie demands.

Nesta shoves Cassian away despite his protests, untangling her legs from the sheets. “At home,” she says, getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. “Am I supposed to be somewhere else?”

“We haven’t seen you in two weeks,” Emerie says. “Gwyn thought your boyfriend’s weird family killed you.”

“That’s not what happened,” Nesta assures, pulling her shorts down and sitting on the toilet. “I just needed some alone time.” People are all around her these days, it seems. Her body still can’t quite adjust to it.

“Well, have you had enough—are you peeing?”

“Yeah.” She wipes and flushes the toilet.

“Well, clear your day and kick your sorry boyfriend out of your place. I can’t remember the last time I went out.”

“Why does everybody always want to go out?” Nesta says as she washes her hands. “What’s wrong with staying in, being safe, never leaving the house?” She dries her hands on a towel and returns to the bedroom, where Cassian is now sitting up and checking his emails.

“You’re preaching to the choir, but this actually wasn’t my idea,” Emerie says.

Nesta and Cassian alert at the sound of a knock from the front door. Nesta never has uninvited guests.

“Hold on a second, Em,” she says, jogging up the short set of steps to the door. She opens it to the sight of an exasperated-looking Gwyn.

“Jeez, next time send a text that you’re alive, will you?” Gwyn says, shoving past Nesta to enter the apartment. “Do you know how worried I’ve been—” She halts midsentence, one foot hovering above a step as she realizes that Nesta isn’t alone. As she sees Cassian in her bed, bare-chested and highly amused.

“Hey.” He raises a hand in greeting.

Gwyn pales.

“Hello?” Emerie calls over the line.

“You girls both share the same brain,” Nesta sighs. “Let me call you back, Emerie.”

Gwyn whirls around just as Nesta hangs up. “That won’t be necessary,” she says quickly, looking embarrassed. “I’ll be outside. I’m sorry.”

She hurries out of the apartment even faster than she came in, ducking her head to hide her face.

Nesta tosses her arms up in the air. “Great,” she says to Cassian. “Your abs scared her away.”

“But I didn’t do anything—”

She shuts the door behind her as she follows Gwyn outside, barefoot and all. She barely notices the freezing cold air or the awful press of damp grass beneath her feet as she catches up to Gwyn and grabs her elbow. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Gwyn jerks suddenly, yanking out of Nesta’s hold. Her breathing seems a little shallow, and she looks even more embarrassed for it. “It’s nothing. I just didn’t know you had someone over.”

“Cassian? He’s cool, you don’t need to be weird about him,” she tries to reassure Gwyn. “Though I did use to tell him that not everybody wants to see him shirtless all the time.”

“It’s not that,” Gwyn says, waving her off.

Nesta gestures to the apartment. “Do you want to come back inside, then? I’m sure he has clothes on by now.”

Gwyn clears her throat uncomfortably and looks down. “I’d rather not. I’m—I don’t like being around men.”

Nesta pauses, not sure if she heard right. “Like, in a ‘check the backseat of your car before getting in’ way, or…?”

“No, like I can’t be alone in a room with a man without feeling sick. It activates my fight or flight, it’s weird.” She’s carefully stiff, like she’s ready to be met with humiliation.

Nesta remembers that Gwyn has never told her about her therapy sessions before, but she knows they’re more intensive than her own weekly conversations with Lana.

“Not that I think your boyfriend is a bad person,” Gwyn adds when Nesta doesn’t respond. “He looks really nice. He sounds nice, too.”

But Nesta doesn’t care about any of that. Unsure of what to do next, she reaches out and awkwardly pats Gwyn on the arm. “Good thing you’ve never been to the cabin, then. Cassian’s brother is staying…” She trails off when she realizes none of this is relevant. “Why are you here so early?” she asks instead.

Gwyn eases up a little at the change in subject. “I missed you. We’ve barely talked since Christmas.”

Nesta didn’t realize people would take such notice to her absence. “Yeah.” She flushes. “I do that sometimes. I’ll send a message next time I go into hibernation, though.”

“You’re freezing,” Gwyn suddenly scolds, noticing how Nesta’s goosebumped arms are wrapped tightly around herself. She unzips her red hoodie and shrugs it off. “Go back inside and get dressed.” She flings the hoodie around Nesta’s shoulders before Nesta can protest. “Meet me at my car. We’re hanging out.”

Nesta knows that a last minute change of events is not the end of the world, even if it sometimes feels like it. For Gwyn and Emerie, she can bear the discomfort of unexpected plans, same as she does for Cassian. But she at least has to know: “How long will we be out?”

“You can come home after lunch.” At Nesta’s face, Gwyn adds, “Lunch will be at two and shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

Looking her friend up and down, someone who has such an easy time understanding her, Nesta nods in satisfaction. She turns around to go back inside.

***

They end up at the library where Gwyn works, in the stacks of the long-abandoned encyclopedia section.

Emerie takes a loud sip from the huge McDonald’s soda she snuck in. “So all this show was because Gwyn didn’t want to work her shift alone?”

“I just have some last minute cleanup to do,” she hisses for the third time, shoving an old book back where it belongs. “Go to the porn section if you’re so bored here.”

“Oh, I definitely will,” Emerie says. “But I’m glad that we’re congregating now, even if it’s in the most depressing part of the library. I have a present for you girls.” She hands Nesta her drink so she can dig around in her purse.

Nesta personally has no complaints. The library is quiet, it smells of paper and old ink, and it holds all her favorite books. It’s almost better than staying in.

Emerie successfully pulls out a handful of folded and wrinkled papers from her bag, smoothing them out as best she can. “One for each of us,” she says, passing the papers around.

Nesta takes her paper and stares at the header. Gwyn is the first to speak. “Pole dancing classes?”

“Why?” Nesta says.

“Well, I originally offered them to Justinian and Isaac but they said no—”

“It’s really not for me,” Gwyn interrupts, trying to pass the registration form back to Emerie. “Sorry.”

Nesta doesn’t give her form back.

“Look,” Emerie says. “I get the hesitation. We’re a handful of boring bitches who hate having fun. But don’t you think that has to change at some point?”

“I’ve known you guys a month,” Gwyn retorts. “We’ve only been boring bitches for a month. This is too much.” She turns to Nesta for help.

Nesta is still staring at the paper. Dancing—on a pole, yes, but it’s still dancing. “I’ll do it,” she says.

Gwyn looks betrayed and Emerie looks elated. “Really?” She hops up and down. “That’s two against one, Gwyn. You have to do it, too.”

Gwyn’s cheeks are turning red in frustration. “You can’t just force this on me—”

“Gwyneth,” a sharp voice interrupts their conversation. Nesta spins around to find a young woman with dark skin and bleached white curls heading in their direction, a stack of books in her arms.

She halts before Nesta and glares. “No food or drink in the library.” She looks pointedly at the 32-ounce in her hand.

“It’s not mine.” Nesta shoves the drink back to Emerie.

But the librarian has turned to Gwyn, who hides the dance class form behind her back. “And what are you doing here?” she demands.

“Just putting up a few books, Merrill,” Gwyn answers quickly.

“While socializing?” the woman named Merrill sneers.

“We were just asking for help finding the romance section. Is that a problem?” Emerie crosses her arms and steps forward, letting a little of her beautiful deadliness slip into her stance. It’s the deadliness of someone at the top of her law class, someone who will graduate in a few months with all the power she could want in the palm of her hand. Nesta gets a rush from playing the lawyer game, too, but she’s never had the kind of ambition that Emerie has. Emerie is a shark sitting around in a small pond.

Merrill is not impressed. She snatches the styrofoam cup dangling from Emerie’s hand and tosses it in the nearby trash can. She turns back to Gwyn. “Hand your badge over and clock out.”

“But I’m not done yet—”

“Now.”

“Okay,” she squeaks. She pulls her ID badge off her neck and hands it to Merrill.

Nesta gapes in disbelief. Before she can speak up, Merrill says, “No loitering in the library. If you don’t have anything you need to check out, leave.” With one final judgmental look, she turns down an aisle of dusty books and disappears.

Gwyn makes a face at her back.

“That woman is not old enough to be acting that misanthropic,” Emerie says after Merrill is gone.

“Whatever,” Gwyn mutters. The registration form is still in her hand. She crumples it into a ball and throws it into the trash. “Let’s get out of here.”

Nesta stares at the trash as Gwyn turns to leave. “Coward,” she says.

Gwyn’s head snaps toward Nesta, her auburn hair swinging. “Excuse me?”

She shrugs. “You heard me.” Emerie’s eyes bounce back and forth between the girls.

“I did,” Gwyn says. “I was just making sure this wasn’t coming from the woman who would sooner bite someone’s head off than do something she doesn’t want to.”

“Girls,” Emerie snaps before Nesta can bite back. “It’s just a stupid dance class. I thought it would be fun to do together, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” Taking Gwyn by one arm and Nesta by the other, she starts steering them out of the stacks like a stern mother. “Now let’s go eat. I’m fucking hungry.”

Gwyn’s mood from the library doesn’t recover, even as they sit down for lunch at the local diner. Nesta thinks Gwyn might actually be sick when the male waiter winks at her while taking her order, and it’s not until long after he’s gone that color returns to her face. When their food arrives, Gwyn only picks at her plate.

“What’s wrong?” Nesta finally has to ask bluntly. “You look pukey.” Did the coward comment affect Gwyn more than she let on, or was it Merrill’s attitude that threw her off?

At Nesta’s words, Gwyn becomes even more pallid. “I just don’t feel great today,” she murmurs, looking around like she’s seeking a way out of the diner. “Sorry guys, I didn’t mean to be such a buzzkill. Maybe I should go home early.”

“Absolutely not,” Emerie says. “If you’re going home, we’re going home with you.”

Gwyn bites her lip, trying to decide if she wants that or not. But something about her antsy demeanor is too familiar to Nesta, because she says, “If you really want to be alone, do you mind driving me home first? Emerie’s car is a mess.”

“You just need to move around a few papers,” Emerie protests.

But Gwyn nods distractedly, already gathering her things. “Sure, no problem.” They pay the bill and go their separate ways.

During the ride home, the sky that’s been gray all day finally breaks open, unleashing a spattering of rain over the town. Nesta watches it sprinkle while Gwyn drives in silence.

“Why are you scared of Merrill?” she eventually asks. “She doesn’t look much older than you.”

Gwyn snorts, but there isn’t much heart to it. “Merrill is my superior, but I can handle her on most days.”

“Just not today?”

Gwyn eyes Nesta warily from the corner of her eye. “No, not today. Or this week.”

Nesta chooses not to push. The dull metal of the cars surrounding them glints under the rain, and they arrive at a red light.

After a minute, she takes a breath and blurts, “I’m not always like that around guys, you know.”

Nesta watches her closely, remembering how ghostly she seemed around Cassian, then the waiter. “Keep going.”

Gwyn stares straight at the traffic ahead, her fingers turning bone white on the steering wheel. “I’m just going through a hard period. Everything upsets me and I don’t know how to think straight. It’s like my brain accidentally traveled to the past and now it’s stuck there.” She sounds shaky, breathless, and it makes Nesta wonder what exactly her mind is experiencing.

Nesta knows what it’s like to be unable to move on. Her own brain has only recently started looking toward the future. “Where are you stuck, specifically?” she asks hesitantly. Maybe she can help Gwyn navigate her way out.

Gwyn’s chin quivers. “In a dark room.” Her lips form a tight line. “Being held down. I’m outnumbered.”

Nesta’s stomach turns. “How far back is it?”

“Two years,” Gwyn whispers. “Lately I can’t even look at anything without—remembering it. Thinking about it. Every time I feel like I’m moving past it, I end up being wrong.”

The light turns green, and Nesta puts a hand on Gwyn’s knee in an attempt to ground her. “Drive,” she commands softly.

Gwyn presses down on the accelerator, but Nesta can feel her leg trembling beneath her hand. She squeezes her knee hard. Even with the dark parts of her own past, Nesta has never felt what Gwyn is feeling right now. So she tries to stick to what she knows.

“It’s like you said,” she says carefully. “You’re going through a period where your brain isn’t being friendly to you. It’s horrible, but you can live with the knowledge that it’ll be over eventually.”

Gwyn shakes her head, holding back tears. “It doesn’t work like that. Once it goes away, it’ll just come back again. And it’ll be like that for the rest of my life.”

“You’re right.” Nesta doesn’t have a solution for that, and she hates it. “You’ll never forget. You can be at the peak of your life and still remember all of it. But,” she says slowly, “whether you reach a point where it barely fazes you, or if you keep crippling under the weight of it decades later, you’ll still be normal. You’ll be a perfectly normal human.”

Gwyn lets out a tearful laugh at that. “What does that even mean?”

Shit. “It means…” Nesta tries to explain herself better. “In case you’re worried that there’s something very wrong with you, I’m here telling you that there’s not. There will never be anything wrong with you.”

Gwyn eyes her skeptically as they turn onto a residential road. “Even if I never get past one nightmare I lived years ago? Even if that nightmare defines me until the day I die?”

“That won’t happen.” Nesta’s tone is simple, factual. “But yes, even then.”

“Really? You’re not gonna tell me to live for the better days or whatever?”

“Does that sound like something that would help you? Because I can say it if it does.”

Gwyn snorts. “No.” But her limbs are steady and her eyes are clear on the road. She clears her throat. “Thank you for listening. I think I might feel a little better now.”

“Was it because of what I said?” Nesta tries not to be too hopeful.

“I wouldn’t give you that much credit,” Gwyn says, crushing her hope. “But I’m glad I told you. It makes things…a lot easier for me.” She exhales deeply.

“You know my plate is mostly empty these days.” Nesta pats her knee. “That means I’ll always have room to help carry your shit.”

They pull up to Nesta’s apartment, and Gwyn parks at the curb. “Give me your dance class thing,” she says suddenly.

Frowning, Nesta pulls the wrinkled paper out of her purse and hands it to Gwyn.

Gwyn smooths it out on the steering wheel and grabs a pen from a cupholder, clicking it. “If you’re going to help carry my shit, I guess I have time for pole dancing now.”

“But that’s mine,” Nesta protests as Gwyn starts filling out the form.

“It can be both of ours,” she says, writing Nesta’s name under hers.

“Really?” Nesta grins with an excitement that she doesn’t easily feel. “You’re going to do it with us?”

“Why would I let you do it without me? So I can become the third wheel in our girl group?” She gives Nesta a look that says No way in hell.

Nesta rolls her eyes. “That would never happen to you.”

“Sure,” Gwyn drawls. She finishes the form and folds it in half before pocketing it. “I’ll give this to Emerie as a gift.” She leans over to peck Nesta on the cheek. “Now get home. Love you.”

Nesta turns red at the words and coughs. “Thanks for the ride,” she responds, getting out of the car.

“Say it back!” Gwyn calls after her. But Nesta shuts the door in her face and waves, pretending she can’t hear her. Gwyn mock-scowls at her through the window, but lets her off easy and drives away.

That’s enough feelings for today, Nesta decides. Even if her chest is swelling with emotion for her friend. It’s a sweet hurt that lingers long after she returns to her empty apartment.

***

a/n: i’m back in my no plot, just vibes era

taglist: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes

[royivia]

The Neighborhood

Sibyl Campbell wasn’t even mad when she woke up on a hot ass May morning in her room, drenched in sweat. Instead, she bypassed anger and went straight to resignation because the HVAC system in the Robert Moses Houses was broken — again — and she didn’t have the time or the energy to bitch about it. In fact, the heating and cooling stayed shutting off across Groundview Gardens. It had become a predictable kind of disappointment in the neighborhood, more so than flooding during superstorms or the fact that no matter which part of the neighborhood you were in, you could feel the rumbling of the shuttle every seven minutes.

Sibyl had spent all night coughing and turning in her bed from the claustrophobic heat that agitated her asthma. Her mother had already gone to work, otherwise, she would have heard Mildred Campbell yelling in indignant patwa over the phone at an Arcadian Realty & Management representative “to fix the damn AC” before she threatened to call 311 on their ass, and report them to the city. Both Mildred and the AR&M rep knew it was an empty threat, but to shut her up, they’d call someone who’d tinker with the system and the air would come back on for a couple of days or so, before it chipped out. And then, the routine would start again.

Sibyl checked the weather. It was already ninety-five degrees. She took a puff from her inhaler and scrolled through her timeline. The same picture of a little girl with a big bright smile captioned with different variations of “RIP Destiny’’ and prayers for her family flooded her feed. Sibyl forced herself out of bed. The sweat on her body made her feel uncomfortable. She hauled a clunky, old portable air conditioner out from her closet and plugged it into the wall. Management would fine them for the spike in their energy use, but she didn’t care. She pushed the power button on, and waited for the box to cough out some hot air before it eventually cooled the room down from a humid haze to a lackluster lukewarm.

#

SOIL had been trying to meet with AR&M, the neighborhood’s collective management company, about the HVAC problem with little to no success for close to three years. They had circulated petitions. Tried shaming them in the local news. They even considered organizing a rent strike, which would have done nothing because everybody who lived in Groundview Gardens received subsidies from the city that made rent practically free. And as much as people were pissed about freezing their asses off in the winter or not being able to breathe during the summer, nobody was tryna fight free rent. So, SOIL decided to annoy the shit out of their landlords instead. On their way into their coolly ventilated corporate office buildings, occupying their lobbies, picketing in front of their luxury condos, and most effectively, managing to damage one, or two, of their solar-powered generators in the hottest month New York City had ever seen. A few arrests and some pissed off rich people later, management finally agreed to hold a town hall to hear from their tenants, which meant SOIL’s next plan of action was to convince as many people as possible to show up. Nefi Ramos saw it as a challenge that they could surely accomplish. Her neighbors were like camels to water in a desert. They were thirsty, and had learned to go without for as long as they needed to, but lead them to a watering hole, and they would drink.

“It’s too fucking hot,” she shouted into her megaphone. She was standing in front of one of the many large screens around Groundview that cycled between ads for things they couldn’t afford and AR&M’s infamous “neighborhoods of tomorrow” promotional video. Most people just used the screens to check train arrival times and the air quality. The next shuttle was two minutes away, and the air was currently “unsafe for vulnerable groups.”

“Are we just supposed to take this shit?” Nefi asked. “We don’t deserve to live like this.”

Around her, the rest of SOIL handed out cold bottles of water, popsicles, and fruit cups from coolers filled with melting ice, along with flyers to people walking towards the train platform. They walked past the demonstration uninterestedly, only stopping long enough to take a bottle of water. Everyone had gotten used to Nefi shouting at them to care about things beyond their control, and learned to tune her and the rest of her angry SOILders out, taking their flyers every now and then only to chuck them into the nearest trash can. This morning, a few people did stop to listen for a second or two, the heat getting the better of them, before they saw the time flicker on the screen behind her, and realized that they’d be late for work.

Sibyl, her camera always strapped to her body, snapped a few shots of her neighbor. Nefi was like a loud older cousin who wasn’t afraid of a little trouble, or frankly anything. She both awed and terrified Sibyl.

“It’s time for these slumlords to sweat,” Nefi went on. “We need to organize. Our voices are stronger together — ”

“What makes you think anyone gives a shit about what happens to us down here?”

Mr. Solomon had been on his way to the bodega to buy his morning loosie, but stopped to sit in his walker, taking a moment to catch his breath.

“That’s exactly what they want us to think, vecino.” Nefi softened her voice in that way she did when she was trying not to shout. “The more we believe that we can’t make them pay attention to us, the longer they get away with treating us like shit.”

“I remember when they first moved people into Groundview.” In the midst of reminiscing, Mr. Solomon started coughing aggressively, prompting someone to hand him a bottle of water which he drank quickly before continuing. “We were protesting and shouting in the streets, but they didn’t care then. They’re not gonna care now.” The history lesson quickly turned into yet another heated debate about neighborhood politics between him and some of the other SOILders trying to convince him to take one of their flyers. Sibyl used the opportunity to catch Nefi’s attention, who waved her over enthusiastically.

“Yo, did you hear?” Nefi handed her a fruit cup. “We finally got a meeting with the overlords! Are you gonna come?”

“Nahhh, Nefi. You know that’s not really my thing…I’m not an activist.” Nefi was always trying to recruit her for some radical ass shit that just never seemed worth the trouble of explaining to Sibyl’s very Jamaican mother.

“Nobody said you had to be. You live in this neighborhood, and have just as much say about what happens in it as the suits who own it.” Nefi sensed Sibyl’s hesitation. “Please Sib! Come so we have more people in the room. You don’t have to say anything. We just want those dicks to see that we have power. People power!”

Nefi was very proud of the fact that she had an uncle, or it might have been a second cousin, who had been a member of the Young Lords and, drawing on their legacy of fighting for the liberation of Puerto Ricans, was always going on about the oppressive nature of renting, and self-determination for poor people, and community empowerment, and, and…

“Aight — I’ll go,” Sibyl assured her, trying to cut her sermon short. Nefi hugged her and thanked her a million times before shoving a stack of flyers into her arms to pass out and post up around the neighborhood.

#

The singular garden in Groundview Gardens was usually ten degrees cooler than anywhere else in the neighborhood. It was created — not by the architects who had designed New York City’s newest development, but instead — by the community out of desperation as an escape from their cramped apartments. During the days, the older folks used it to grow their herbs, medicines, and flowers for their healing practices. The local farmers grew produce that fed the community. After school and on the weekends, all the kids hung out at the community center at the heart of the garden where they learned to dance, make art, and play music.

By the time Sybil got there later that night, Groundview’s collective of artists had already transformed the greenspace into their Saturday night hangout. One of the DJs was spinning records. People were dancing, drinking, smoking, having a good time. Dante, Sage, and Felix had bottles in their hands when Sibyl joined them at their usual spot. Their clothes were covered in colorful patches of spray paint.

“Did you finish it? When do I get to see it?,” she asked them excitedly. She hadn’t seen her friends in about a week, which meant they were either done with their latest mural or were taking a break before they disappeared for another few days. “Soon.” Dante looked tired, but excitement danced in his eyes. “Shoot anything good lately?” He leaned in reaching for her camera, but she quickly pulled back from him.

He laughed at her and took a sip of beer. Dante was her oldest friend out of the trio. There was a quiet protectiveness between the two of them Sibyl hoped they could always maintain.

“It’s been a minute since I last checked.”

“How come?” Dante asked.

Sibyl usually couldn’t wait to hold herself up in the darkroom at the community center to develop her film, but she had been putting off her latest batch. She’d fallen in love with photography while taking classes at the center as a kid. So much so that one day, her mother came home with an old film camera and Sibyl never put it down. That first summer, she ran around the neighborhood asking to take people’s photos. It felt so natural to her, though it had taken a while to gain people’s trust. Take their pictures for what? What was she going to do with them? Skeptics, but curious, they eventually agreed. They’d uncomfortably pose or force a smile, and then immediately ask her to see it because if they didn’t look good, she’d have to delete it. Then she’d explain how film photography worked, and they’d cuss her out for wasting their time.

Weeks later, she’d find them again — at the corner store, or at the People’s Garden, and give them the glossy prints she’d developed. Through her lens she could see they were secretly afraid she’d see the things they’d all spent so much time and concern trying to hide. But those things would all melt away when they’d see themselves — some for the first time — with the same worth and value she saw in them. After that Sibyl didn’t have to ask. They booked her for quinces and graduation parties and engagement photos. People would stop her when they saw her around. “So you not gonna take my picture? Girl, you know I look good today. Quit playing and snap something quick,” and they’d pose with more pride than before, as if to officially celebrate the triumph of living, something they didn’t know they had accomplished until they saw proof.

After seeing so many of her neighbors’ pictures, some of which she took, circulate in online memorials, something lodged itself in the pit of Sibyl’s gut. She couldn’t fully identify what it was, but it left her with little energy to feel or do anything else outside of going to school and work. But she didn’t know how to explain that to her friends without being weird or bringing down the mood, so she just said, “Been busy with school.” She quickly changed the subject before anyone tried to press her on it.

“Are ya gonna go to the town hall?”

“What town hall?” Sage asked.

“The one with management. About the HVACs.” Sibyl handed them flyers from her bag. “I promised Nefi I’d go, but I don’t want to go by myself. Someone come with me?”

“Pass,” Felix snorted.

“I’ll go. Should be fun,” Sage said with a smirk on their face. “I wanna hear what those assholes say their excuse is for not fixing shit.”

“I’ll save ya the trip. Sorry, you’re too poor for us to care,” Felix mocked. “It’s not like they’re all of a sudden gonna have a conscience ya know.”

“You mad negative bro,” Dante said.

“What?” Felix asked animatedly. “You really trying to spend the rest of your life down here? We all need to focus on getting the fuck up outta here instead of asking them to fix some janky ass vents.”

It’s not like anybody was trying to spend any part of their lives in Groundview, but lately it seemed like the rest of their lives wouldn’t take so long. The sound of the shuttle, more muffled than anywhere else, reverberated throughout the garden.

“I’m out the first chance I get,” Dante admitted. His answer wasn’t surprising to any of them, but this was the first time Sibyl heard him say it out loud. Dante was one of the more talented and disciplined artists in the collective. It would only be a matter of time before he blew up and left.

“What happens when ya leave though?” Sage was upset. “You get out, but what about the rest of us? Not everybody can up and leave right? Shouldn’t we try and make shit better for everyone.”

“That’s a trap, Sage. Shit’s not gonna get better,” Felix said harshly. “Does it ever hit ya, like really hit ya that there’s no future for us here? Everybody’s so busy working to get by, we don’t even have time to realize how fucked up everything is.”

“I’m not saying it’s perfect.” Sage shot back. “I just don’t think we have to turn our back on our community. That’s fucked up.”

“Don’t take it so personally, Sage,” Dante cut in. “Nobody’s turning their backs on anyone.”

“Besides, no offense to Nefi n ‘em,” Felix said, “but everybody’s wasting their time if they think those suits are gonna fix anything.”

Sibyl listened quietly. Groundview was all they ever knew. She had never considered leaving it, and yet she also was afraid to admit that she thought Felix might be right.

#

The middle school auditorium only had like fifteen people — half were members of SOIL — in there that Tuesday night, which was more than Nefi had expected. The handful of people who told her they wanted to go to the town hall, but couldn’t, were either working, or would get home too late from work and would have to cook dinner or iron school uniforms for the next day. Everyone else couldn’t be bothered; like Felix, they thought it was a waste of time. That nothing would come from it. Sibyl didn’t show. No one who attended the town hall actually thought anything would come from it either. If AR&M had wanted to do something, they would have done it a long ass time ago. The people who did show up were mostly Nefi’s elderly neighbors who were always ready to spit their anger into a mic because if they weren’t going to get a solution, they would at least get to cuss someone out, and have an audience to witness it.

Nefi worked her way around the room to thank people for coming. These things always felt like family reunions to her. Old friends hugging and catching up because they hadn’t seen each other in a minute, with work and family and life moving everybody in this or that direction, even though they all still lived in the same neighborhood. She finished up her greetings and joined the rest of SOIL, huddled at the front of the room. They went over the order of speakers, before Benjy, the group’s designated peacemaker for the evening, asked everyone to quiet down and get seated so they could start. He reminded everyone to keep it civil. Then one by one, people got up to the mic to direct their anger at the empty faces in tailored suits, sitting at the table in front of them, who could all care less about the people shouting at them. There was a lot of finger snapping, and “that’s right” and “tell-em’s” from the crowd throughout.

Finally about half an hour in, a young woman, with a little girl clutching on to the left side of her body, got up to the mic.

“My name is Mercy Brooks, and this is my daughter Angelique.” Her voice was shaking, in that soft, angry, pissed off kinda way that warranted attention. Nefi hushed the crowd down so that she could speak her peace without interruption. “My daughter’s asthma acts up almost every day. She can’t breathe. Ya should be fucking ashamed of yaselves. Our babies are dying down here. Is that what we deserve because we can’t do better? We just supposed to take that shit. You ever thought about what it’s like to live down here, huh? I’m sure ya don’t cause if you did, you wouldn’t think it was right to keep people living like this. Or do ya not care cause it’s not your kids?”

There was silence from the table, which was worse than feigning any sympathy or remorse. It set the room off into chants, which meant it was over from there. AR&M security shut that shit down quick right on cue, and if you weren’t arrested that night, you were brusquely escorted out. Management promised to set up some vague kind of task force with representatives from the neighborhood, but it led to nothing. A fucking disappointment, that’s what that shit was. And it wasn’t a surprise to Nefi or anyone else, but it hurt all the same. A few weeks later, that same woman who got up and spoke, her daughter Angelique died because they couldn’t get her to the hospital in time after she had an asthma attack. AR&M still hadn’t fixed the vents in their housing complex. And they still didn’t change the filters or fix the ducts in the other housing complexes so that it wouldn’t happen again after that. SOIL kept trying to drum up some kind of anger. Anything to get people to feel something. To do something.

Murals of Destiny, Angelique, and every other person who had died that year quietly popped up around the neighborhood. Vigils and altars with flowers and prayer candles accompanied them. But as much as people were upset or sad, no one knew what else to do except mourn and move on because it was clear to everyone that no one gave a damn about them. And so, what was the point?

##

They called it the Subterranean Housing and Inner-City Tunnels project, or S.H.I.T. for short. A plan to provide affordable housing for everyone who had experienced the worst housing crisis New York City had ever seen. People were evicted left and right. Families were priced out of their homes and neighborhoods. The shelter system, swelled beyond its limits for decades, finally collapsed. The streets and subway were overrun with people in sleeping bags and blankets. So nothing new, but it finally annoyed enough people to warrant action.

Naturally, the city contracted its most blood thirsty developers, AR&M, to help solve the problem, which was kinda like asking an arsonist to put out a fire they had proudly started. To no one’s surprise, they didn’t want to forfeit any of their luxury condos that sat empty while people slept on the streets. Instead, they struck a deal to create the largest scale of public housing of its kind, in exchange for absolute, unregulated freedom. The only problem was there was literally no land left for them to develop because they had already bought it all. And then one day, the chief architect of S.H.I.T. had an epiphany when he felt the uptown 6 train rumbling beneath his feet. There was an entire part of the city he had yet to consider. Where a majority of the people who needed housing were already living. Sprawling housing complexes with multi-unit apartments appeared overnight 150 feet underground, with the pilot site in the South Bronx. A new subway station and miles and miles of foot tunnels connected New York’s newest neighborhood to the world above it.

There were protests, anger, outrage! That the country’s most progressive city could so blatantly, and quickly!, shove all of its poor people out of sight only seemed to bother the poor people because everyone else praised S.H.I.T. as the most innovative solution of the 21st century. New York City had done the impossible, and housed every single person. That was grounds for celebration and federal funding. Plans were quickly announced to roll S.H.I.T. out across every major city in the country. To ease people’s concerns, the mayor at the time, eyeing a presidential run, promised that his own city’s underground neighborhood would just be temporary — transitional housing at best. Transitional to what, no one could answer. Temporary until when? Until they could think of something else. One year became five, became ten, etc., etc.

In time, AR&M and the city eventually added a couple schools, a hospital, a library, and a sad excuse for a park that residents eventually turned into the People’s Garden. Folks opened up bodegas, 99 cent and liquor stores, and made themselves at home. It didn’t take long to accept living where they did as another fact of life because they had no other choice. Over time, the plan to move everyone back aboveground disappeared from the city’s housing briefings. Then, the briefings disappeared altogether. The high rates of asthma and chronic bronchitis that seemed to come from living in Groundview occasionally made the nightly news, but not enough to cause major concern or stop neighborhoods like Groundview from popping up across the country.

There were still those who remembered life before Groundview, and vowed to move out of the neighborhood as soon as the opportunity arrived. They kept the dream close to their hearts. And if it didn’t happen during their lifetimes, they’d make sure it would happen during their children’s. More realized it was a fool’s dream and moved on. Eventually though, everyone adapted to the vibrations of the shuttle inside their kitchens. The white, fluorescent lighting that lit every corner of their world like a harsh, artificial sun. The damp, muggy air that arrested their chests if they tried to breathe too freely. And the humming of the massive ventilation systems that heated and cooled their cramped, windowless apartments — when they decided to work.

#

An Artist’s Treatise on Survival

I don’t know how we do it sometimes. That is, put up with all the shit that life throws at us. Work jobs that exhaust us with little in return. Take care of our families with little to no support. Do so much with so little. And still be able to smile or laugh in the midst of it all. Then, I remember: it’s because we have to. No one else is gonna pay our bills if we don’t. No one else is gonna put food on our tables for us. No one’s gonna bail us out. Naturally, you learn to hustle. To channel your frustrations into working around the way things are because trying to fix things that were built broken takes time you don’t have when you’re just trying to get by.

What gets me even more is how we’ve perfected survival itself as an artform, and created whole new types of living from abject desperation. We wasn’t supposed to, much less find reasons to enjoy life, but we did anyway. Some even take on the added challenge of trying to make life more bearable, more enjoyable, for the rest of us. For example, sometimes when it felt like there wasn’t much to appreciate. That you were resigned to the fate of being alive and not living and didn’t deserve any better. You’d see a mural. On the way to the laundromat. Or the corner store. While you were running errands. Or walking home, bone tired, from the train after another long, shitty day at work. And like all good, beautiful things, it reminded you to breathe. You didn’t always know who created it. Or couldn’t remember if it was there the day before even though you’ve walked that way millions of times. You just knew that it was, in its own way, encouraging you to make it to tomorrow. Bright bursts of color and story interrupting the mundane, tiresome every day you’d come to accept with no protest. After a while, it becomes easier to accept a simple truth about living. That we can still manage to find a reason to laugh, to enjoy life, despite it all, and that we can be the source of our own power. It’s kind of audacious of us to still try and find joy even if it means creating it for ourselves. Maybe that’s why we do it.

#

At first, it started off as harmless tagging, and they kept it up chasing the thrill of not getting caught. Then they tried to outdo each other. It became a sport: who could paint the better mural. Get the most buzz around the neighborhood before they got painted over. But the better they got, and the more the murals looked legit, the longer they stayed up. Until they stopped painting over them altogether because people loved them so much. They didn’t belong to the creators anymore. They belonged to the neighborhood. And before they knew it, they’d created something much bigger than any of them could have imagined.

The tunnels just seemed like the next natural step for the graffiti artists in Groundview. Miles and miles of blank walls? Dante, especially, saw something to keep him busy after his brother died. Besides, painting murals felt like the only thing he could do. He’d stopped going to school. He’d just paint. When he ran out of ideas to paint, he asked Sibyl to see her portraits, and he started replicating them across the neighborhood. He was relentless — portrait after portrait. Sage and Felix started helping him out because they worried he would lose it, spending all that time in the tunnels by himself. He was grasping for something, but he didn’t know what it was. Until he saw it, lying on the ground near a garbage can.

The Groundview Residents’ List of Demands

The People of Groundview Gardens demand financial and social restitution for all residents, especially those who developed chronic health issues from living underground and/or have lost loved ones because of it.

The People demand New York City move all Groundview residents back above ground into rent subsidized apartments.

The People demand New York City disband all underground housing policies so that no one else has to live in Groundview Gardens or any other housing project like it.

Until the first three demands are met, The People demand Arcadian Realty & Management fix the HVAC systems in every single housing complex it owns and regularly maintain them.

Once Groundview Gardens is fully evacuated, The People demand New York City turn the entire neighborhood into a public memorial to commemorate the loss of life, preserving the art and The People’s Garden.

After the town hall, and the supposed task force, proved to be a bust, SOIL had created the demands to deliver to the city. They circulated leaflets with the five bullet points, but no one would take them seriously. Dante himself, admittedly, had checked out, and had ignored SOIL’s literature, up until that point. The demands appeared overnight on the walls of the tunnels in bold white paint for everyone to see. They were the last thing everyone saw coming into Groundview and the first thing they saw from the shuttle on their commutes leaving the neighborhood.

#

Nefi kept waiting for the moment when her neighbors would suddenly realize that they were angry — very angry. They’d decide they were fed up once and for all and refuse to settle for less anymore. They’d riot in the streets. They’d protest in front of AR&M’s offices. They’d refuse to go into work until something changed. Their anger would get everyone’s attention. Her own rage had burned intensely inside her for as long as she knew herself. She learned to channel it through SOIL trying to make Groundview a better place, even though everyone told her it wasn’t worth it; it wasn’t possible; it was a waste of time. But it was either that or literally set some shit on fire. But, it didn’t matter how many rallies, tenant meetings, town halls, or demonstrations SOIL organized. Nefi learned that she couldn’t have a revolution without people. And the people? They were tired and overworked. They didn’t have time to overthrow anything. And, even though no one would admit it, they were also afraid — afraid of change, of what they could lose, of realizing that something greater than what they had come to know was possible. So to save themselves, and Nefi, further disappointment, they rebuffed her again, and again: Nefi you need to chill. Girl you’re doing too much. Don’t waste your time. Nothing’s gonna change. After the town hall, and years and years of holding hope, the fire inside Nefi dulled until she couldn’t recognize herself anymore. She conceded her rage for high-functioning hopelessness. She withdrew from her friends, from her neighbors, from SOIL, only tapping into enough energy to wake up, go to work, and make her way back home. The days bled into each other, so much so that when the night Nefi had been waiting for eventually came later that August, it caught her completely off guard. It caught everyone off guard because it wasn’t the HVACs or the deaths of toddlers, or even the wrath towards AR&M that finally set people off. But it shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone who’s lived in New York City long enough because it was the one thing that could incite the level of large-scale anarchic rage Nefi had been holding out for — and that was the MTA.

#

The night in question, the air was hot, muggy, and heavy with potential. Like any other evening, people were heading home from work, the collective exhaustion weighing down on their bodies, stamped into their faces. They waited together, huddled in a sweaty mass on the sweltering Third Ave-138th St. platform for a train that felt like it would never come. When an empty shuttle finally did arrive in the station, the doors opened to the grating sound of a man’s voice coming through the train’s speaker system:

“Attention passengers. This is your conductor speaking. Due to unplanned construction up ahead, we are disbanding all trains to Groundview Gardens at this time. I repeat, we are disbanding all trains to Groundview. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

This shit had happened plenty of times before. A disruption of service that made it difficult to get home. Everybody was so used to it and had even come to expect it. The inconvenience of being poor and powerless consistently working against them. It too had become a predictable kind of disappointment. Even the audible, collective disapproval was muted and slightly rehearsed, nothing more than a reflex. They would have to find their way home, some two-odd miles on foot, through the tunnels. But that night, Ms. Claudette, who had been on her feet all day at work taking care of her elderly patient and still had to go home and iron her scrubs for the next day, was fucking tired. She had paid her fare. And, she had paid her taxes. She had also paid her dues in this country — twenty-seven years worth of struggle and debasement — for what? This could not be it. Life could not just be disappointment. The least she expected was that the train would get her home like it was supposed to. She decided that she was going to let the conductor have a piece of her mind.

“This is nonsense. Tell me, just tell me, how am I supposed to get home?” Her boisterous St. Lucian accent traveled well beyond her.

Folks who heard her echoed in agreement, hyping her up. “They have the nerve to raise prices for this shitty ass service,” someone said loudly. They all collectively decided to board the empty train. The construction workers in their hard hats and massive boots, the women with their large tote bags and their tiredness neatly folded away into themselves. They were all going to sit on the train, until it started up again. It was going to take them home.

The conductor was tired too. Nothing as deep-seated as his passengers, but something not too far removed. He had no skin in this game though, and his job didn’t pay him enough to care. He was annoyed; they were keeping him from clocking out. And so, after listening to a bunch of people passionately curse him out, he told them to, and I quote:

“Write a letter.”

It happened so fast. I mean, when I say shit popped off before anyone could swallow their spit. Someone knocked over the trash cans on the platform. Someone else, set them on fire, with what to this day no one really knows, but their latent anger seemed to have ignited what they didn’t know was inside them.

The riots lasted for weeks. People boycotted the MTA and didn’t go to work.

The restaurants aboveground shuttered because they were understaffed. Construction on all the new developments stopped because the workers, a lot of whom lived in Groundview, refused to show up. People aboveground had to stay home because their nannies and house cleaners weren’t able to come and relieve them like they had come to rely on. Groundview had forced the city to come to a complete stop. The mayor held a press conference saying she didn’t condone the behavior of the vandals at the train station. SOIL led protests and demonstrations in front of city hall until she had to hold a second press conference to apologize for her statements at the first press conference. She promised she was going to make sure that it would never happen again — not just the riots, but the unnecessary deaths in Groundview, the resentment the residents felt towards the city. They were going to fix the HVACs, and the MTA! They were going to heal the great divide the city had long thrived on once and for all, if, and only if, the workers called off the strike and went back to work. It sounded so sincere, everyone wanted to believe it. Tired of holding all the power, they asked SOIL to represent them at the bargaining table. Deals were made. Hands were shaken. And things went back to a semblance of normal with a few slight adjustments.

#

Sibyl was heading out of her apartment when she saw a piece of yellow paper on her front door.

60 DAYS NOTICE TO INCREASE RENT

Mildred Campbell 207 167th St. (GG), Unit 10E

Beginning September 1, 2041, the monthly rent will go up an additional 5% for all units located in the Robert Moses Houses. Please make the appropriate adjustments within the AR&M digital payment system.

We appreciate your continued tenancy.

Sincerely, Arcadian Realty & Management

Pieces of yellow paper were taped to every single door she passed on her way to the train. It had been a year since the last time the heating or cooling had stopped working. Everyone held their breath celebrating, just in case that was when the heat would shut off or the air would decide to stop working again, but it never did. The number of deaths and hospitalizations went down, and everyone seemed content enough after the strikes and boycott ended, to go back to work. The trains even went back to running as efficiently as possible for the MTA, always teetering on the edge of collapse, but never actually approaching it for fear of recreating another opportunity for mass rebellion.

On her way to the shuttle, Sibyl saw a group of people congregating near one of the murals. She clutched her camera in her hand, ready to raise it to her face, when she heard a voice she didn’t recognize shouting through a megaphone. It belonged to a man she had never seen around the neighborhood before, and he was walking backwards while talking to a group of people Sibyl also didn’t recognize.

“Groundview is the latest up and coming neighborhood in the city,” his voice echoed. “Some of the most promising young artists have gotten their start in this urban — ”

She didn’t stick around to hear more.

After the riots, small groups of tourists descended regularly on Groundview like vultures to see the murals they had seen in viral photographs. They’d rudely block the paths from the train platform, or take up way too much space on the footpaths of the tunnels posing in front of the murals for pictures. Not long after that came the opportunistic hacks who had never stepped foot in Groundview before, running “culture tours’’ around the neighborhood. The residents felt like they were stuck in some sick and twisted museum. Out of annoyance, they banned the tours and non-residents from the People’s Garden, preserving their one last sanctuary in the community.

Sibyl had been in the middle of it all the first night of the riots. She was on the subway platform on her way home from classes and started snapping pictures once she realized what was going on, catching the fervent energy better than anyone could describe to everyone else who wasn’t there. She had no idea her photos would end up everywhere. But they did, and they not only helped draw attention to the plight of her neighborhood. They also drew attention to the wealth of talent germinating underneath the city. Her photos of her friends, their murals, and the other members of her neighborhood, had also attracted a lot of attention that felt good to the young artists who all of a sudden saw opportunities previously unavailable to them right at their doorsteps.

The shuttle arrived on the platform before her. Sibyl boarded the cool air-conditioned cart; the beads of sweat on her skin quickly evaporated. Nefi had warned them to be careful early on. “These things always end up having you exploit your own people for a cheap come up, and it’s never worth it.” Everyone thought she was trippin’. There Nefi was again just looking for another cause to fight now that her crusade against A&RM had seemed to come to an end. Even Sibyl thought she was overreacting at first. People were finally paying attention to Groundview. If she and the rest of the artists could help show the world how important the lives of the people who lived there were, maybe things could change for the better.

The train disappeared into the tunnel towards the 138th St. station. A lot of things had quietly changed over the last year and a half. Many of the families who had lost loved ones, including Dante’s, received settlements from the city and moved out of the neighborhood, leaving a sizable number of the apartments empty. Leading to perhaps the most visible addition to the neighborhood. AR&M had a couple of the younger artists looking for their own big break paint over SOIL’s list of demands and replaced it with a more “aesthetically inviting” message for the new visitors to the neighborhood: Welcome to the Mural District. Sibyl had only heard the tour guides call it that, in an unveiled attempt to rebrand Groundview. It didn’t take too long to find out where they got it from. The name and the welcome sign led to intense debates between the artists in the collective, including her friends, about people selling out and what they owed to each other as artists and their neighbors, which led to a few people splitting off and doing their own thing. The mural made Sibyl sick to her stomach, and she tried her best to avoid seeing it on her commutes. Then one day, someone started covering it up with black graffiti making the message unreadable.

No one knew who it was because they never got caught, but it didn’t matter to AR&M. Like clockwork the next morning, they had cleaners paint a fresh welcome message over it in time for the daily tours at noon. When the welcome message started appearing on the AR&M screens, the screens started getting covered in graffiti too. After a few months, Sibyl expected the guerilla painters to give up and move on, but they didn’t. Fresh graffiti kept appearing over the mural and on the screens, prompting AR&M to deploy their clean up crews, and then the routine would start again. Sibyl looked out the window in anticipation. “OURS.” The word, written over and over again across the mural, quickly came into view and then vanished out of sight.

[taetaespeaches]

“Are you always this much of a brat?”

jungkook x reader genre: fluff (college au) word count: 2K

a/n: I wrote this for my lovely angel, @babeejeon​. This is not part of the long-term couple! This is just film student Jungkook and student reader working on a class project together. This is pretty unedited so good luck, y’all! I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading! :)) 

YOU knew the dude was cute. You’d known that since the first day of class. However, eyeing him from a few seats away as he focused on taking notes, his eyes squinted to see the projector screen, was a lot different than seeing him in action as he concentrated on the camera screen, his eyebrows pulled together. The man was stunning.

Breaking character, a small smile formed on your lips as you were supposed to be looking solemnly ahead. Jungkook let out a sound of frustration as you giggled. “I’m sorry, you just look so serious, Mr. Director Man.”

“I am serious,” he defended with a boyish smile. “I’m trying to get us a high mark, remember?” You playfully rolled your eyes as he shook his head at you. You and Jungkook were partnered together for a film assignment in your digital story telling class, an assignment you had been worried about all semester as you didn’t have an ounce of film experience. Fortunately for you, Jungkook was actually a film major, which made you feel infinitely more confident in the project.

When he found out you wrote, he easily came up with the idea to make a film about one of your stories, you as the subject with a voiceover of your narration. Little did either of you know, you were almost physically incapable of filming a scene for five seconds without breaking into laughter, which was not a great visual to put with your “sad boi writing,” as you had dubbed it when explaining it to Jungkook.

“Ok, I didn’t think I’d be this bad in front of a camera, but I have seen your films, Kook. I still have total faith in you to pull this off,” you complimented him.  

Giving you an unconvinced nod, he looked around the street, planning the next shot. “I think we’re almost done, maybe just one more shot of you walking away from the camera and I’ll follow you.”

“Ah, a scene I can’t screw up,” you grinned. “Good thinking Mr. Director.” He chuckled again, and you decided right then and there you had never seen a prettier smile before.

Set up for the shot, you waited for Jungkook’s cue to start the scene. “Ok, walk,” he shouted out to you, however, you stubbornly refused to move. “Walk,” he yelled louder.

“You’re a director, Jungkook,” you shouted back, looking over your shoulder at him. “Say action.”

“Are you always this much of a brat?” He questioned teasingly, you throwing your head back in amusement.

“Kind of,” you shouted to him, Jungkook chuckling at you.  

“Are you ready?” He asked, you nodding exaggeratedly so he’d see it. “Ok, action.”

You began walking, however, five seconds into filming the shot, you tripped on a crack in the sidewalk, though catching yourself easily. Turning around you found Jungkook with a wide-eyed stare and you began laughing loudly, drawing the attention of the people walking by.

“Jesus,” Jungkook breathed out through his laughter as he approached you. “At least you’re a good writer.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, taking the backhanded compliment. “Did we get some ok footage at least?”

“I think we can make it work. I mean, you look good on camera,” he told you, a blush instantly heating his cheeks, as he looked down at the camera, looking over a piece of his film.

“I do?” You pressed annoyingly with a wide grin, Jungkook’s shy smile directed toward the camera as he avoided your gaze. “You look good behind the camera,” you told him, sincerity laced in your tone. “Like you belong there.”

His doe-like eyes softened as he looked at you in surprise. “Thanks,” he said simply before turning the camera off. “I think we got it.”

STEPPING into a café near campus that many college students frequented, you quickly scanned the room, doing a double take on the very man who had been occupying your mind for most of the semester. He had taken up a permanent residency in there since you started working with him on this film project, and the sight of him sitting across the café from you had your heart racing.

Forgetting completely about the drink you came to order and take to-go, you started toward Jungkook, his eyes lifting from his computer screen just enough to catch you in his eye line, doing a double take of his own.

His eyes widened in what almost looked like panic as he ripped his ear buds of out his ears, sitting up straighter in his seat.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you greeted with a smile, your eyes looking from Jungkook to his computer to the notebook he had sitting open next to the keypad.

“Hey,” he said back, still coming down from his surprise, a faint smile on his lips. Your eyes glanced over the notebook just barely catching the title of your short story for your digital storytelling class scrawled onto the top of the page.

Your eyes lit up in excitement at the realization. “Are you editing right now?”

“I-yeah, but it’s not done,” he told you with a panicked edge in his voice.

“How is it so far? Did the footage turn out ok?” You asked.

“Uh,” he started with a small breathy laugh. “You’re smiling and laughing in most of it.” You stared at him with a serious expression, understanding that was not a good thing. “Yeah, we might have to reshoot,” he told you, looking at the computer screen as he clicked through different scenes.

“Fuck, really?”

His eyes flashed up to inspect your face, noting your concern. “Yeah,” he told you with a sympathetic expression.

“I’m a bad actress,” you pouted, Jungkook grinning as he shook his head.

“No, you’re really not,” he told you sincerely. “Kinda think you were born to be in front of a camera.”

Holding back a smile, you dropped your gaze to the table. “What if I gave you a happier story? I could re-narrate.”

“You have another piece?”

“Let me see the footage.”

He pulled the top of his laptop down a bit defensively, to which you glared at him. “I didn’t know you were so protective of your work,” you teased.

“I’m usually not,” he said quietly.

Pausing a moment, you cocked your head at him thoughtfully. “Am I that bad?” You giggled, Jungkook shaking his head immediately in protest before realizing you were kidding. Pink tinted his cheeks as he flashed you a small smile with a scoff.

“It’s really rough right now. I only have a fifteen second intro and then the rest of it just doesn’t fit the vibe of your writing,” he explained, frustration taking over his features.

“Oh the vibes, huh?” You smiled. “Well we gotta get the right vibes, bro, let me look.” Jungkook laughed, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before they glanced back down to the computer. “I’m gonna have to see it eventually, Kook.”

Letting out a big sigh, Jungkook ticked his head to the side. Wordlessly, he opened his laptop wider before handing you one of his ear buds, placing the opposite one in his own ear. “Like I said, I only have 15 seconds done, but there is music,” he told you. “To capture the vibes,” he added with a smile.

“Love music,” you said stupidly, trying to ease his nerves as you sat down next to him and pushed the ear bud into place. “Blow me away, Spielberg.” He chuckled before pressing play, resting his chin in his hand as he nervously awaited your reaction.

Your eyes were glued to the screen as a slow lo-fi kind of beat started playing into your left ear. The screen faded from black to a shot of the sunrise glowing through the street, people walking in and out of the shot on the busy weekday morning.

The scene cut to a close up of your side profile, your hair blowing into your face before you pushed it back, your hand and wrist partially covering your features from the viewers. The camera cut to a zoomed out shot of you from the same angle, showing you seated on the curb of the street.

Next, the shot showed you from across the street, your melancholic expression on display as cars drove in front of you, cutting you in and out of the frame.

The music continued to play as the next shot displayed a closer view of your somber stare, however, it suddenly broke into you smirking as Jungkook’s groan sounded overtop the music. Your laugh played through the ear bud, followed by Jungkook’s giggle.

The following shots were meticulously pieced together shots of you breaking character, making faces into the camera, throwing your head back as the sounds of yours and Jungkook’s laughter mixed overtop the soothing beat. It didn’t take a videography expert to notice how the shots faded in and out skillfully. Jungkook had taken his time putting the film together.

“I thought you said it wasn’t done,” you said softly, eyes still on the screen as your heart raced at the footage. It was shot so… romantically.

“It’s not,” he defended as if being accused of something.

“But it’s amazing,” you told him, peeling your eyes from the screen to look at him. “I’m serious, you were made to do this.”  

“Your story doesn’t fit though,” he told you quietly, a pink tint on his cheeks as your gaze fell to his lips.

There was a delay before you turned to take your backpack off, digging inside for a moment. Looking back to Jungkook to see him watching you, you held your journal up. Flipping through to the most recent entry, you placed it in front of him, allowing him to tentatively take it from your hands.

You watched as he read over the words, poetic in their form and romantic in their intent. His lips curved at the corners as he read further, taking in the sentences about his passion for film and how watching his eyes as he filmed a scene could convince you to take up videography as a hobby yourself. You wrote about his bright eyes and the crinkles that formed around them when he flashed his beaming smile. He took in the words that described how you became weightless when he was around, and if he didn’t reach for your hand soon you’d float into the clouds and never return to earth.

Finishing the piece, he looked up at you with wide eyes and a flattered grin, though you could tell he didn’t want to assume.

“Yeah, it’s about you,” you told him with an embarrassed breathy chuckle. “And from what I just watched, I’m pretty sure this writing will fit right into this film.”

He nodded slowly, looking back down at the journal, scanning the words once more. You watched his lips as he did so, aching to feel their touch.

“But if we don’t have to refilm, how will I find an excuse to hang out with you more?” he teasingly asked, looking toward you to notice you staring at his mouth.

“Good question,” you whispered. “Maybe you could kiss me and then take me out on a proper date,” you suggested.

“In that order?” He asked, his hand reaching up to cradle the side of your face, his thumb soothing over your cheek.

“Yes, please,” you barely spoke.

Leaning, in, he wore a smile just before your lips met. His hovered over yours for a moment before you impatiently leaned into him, catching his lips. He easily fell into the kiss, opening his mouth slightly against yours, just enough to show you how badly he had been wanting this moment with you. Your hands grabbed onto waist as he pulled away reluctantly, not wanting to break the kiss but aware that you were in a very public café.

“Fuck,” he whispered out, you giggling in response. “I wanna do that again.”

“Jeez, Jeon, take me out first,” you teased before leaning toward him again, catching his lips in a soft, sweet peck.

The man smiled against your mouth before kissing you repeatedly. “I will take you out,” he whispered. “Over,” he kissed you, “and over,” another kiss, “and over,” and another kiss, making you giggle into the action, “and over again,” he promised.

Smiling, you gave a single nod of your head. “I like the sound of that, Mr. Director.”

[talesofesther]

Anchor - Part 7

Five Hargreeves x Reader

Masterlist with the other parts

See part one for important notes

A/N: First of all, thanks for 730 followers, you guys are the sweetest ♥

So here, new part yay. I think the beginning is kinda shitty, because I was in lack of ideas, but I guess the rest is good enough. If you wanna be added to the tag list, let me know. ♥

"Do we really need to keep him tied up?" Y/N asked as she looked at Elliott, who was tied up to one of his chairs.

"Yes" Five simply responded as he intently watched the footage that Elliott developed, it was just a video from an old couple, Y/N couldn't really tell why it was so important. The room was dark, the only light illuminating them being from the projector.

Y/N sighed "I'm sorry Elliott" she mumbled to the man. "Humm, that color suits him" she said, bracing herself on the back of Lila's chair and looking down at the woman painting Elliott's nails.

"Yup" Lila smiled.

As the footage went on, the people on it said the date. November 22, 1963. And that was six days from their current date. After Y/N heard that, she started to pay attention to the film. Not long after, shots could be heard from the film, apparently, the president was being murdered. And as Five turned back the film and stopped it, much to their surprise, Five and Diego recognized their father. The man was just standing there, with his black umbrella on a sunny day.

Y/N tensed a little upon seeing his image on the projector. So he was here then. She only knew him from what Klaus had told her, but he didn't seem like a good person at all, not to his kids at least.

Five started to pace around the room, nervously scratching his head. He and Diego started to discuss about their father, if he was or was not involved in the assassination of the president. And seeing as they didn't have much involvement in all of it, Y/N and Lila stayed out of the conversation.

"Are you from the weird family too?" Lila asked the girl.

"No, I'm just a friend... That got involved in all of it" Y/N smiled at her.

_________

After a couple of minutes, Five and Diego made their way to leave the room. Seeing that, Y/N quickly made her way to them.

"It's okay to leave him like this?" Diego asked as they walked, referring to Elliott.

"Yeah, he's fine. What about the girl?" Five asked back, his hands on his pockets.

Diego looked back as Y/N reached them, and when he didn't see Lila, he went to find her. Leaving Y/N and Five alone to wait for him.

"Hey, where are you two going?" The girl asked.

Five let out a sigh, he moved from feet to feet, his eyes not looking at Y/N. He didn't feel much comfortable around her anymore, because he felt like he shouldn't be around her at all. "Pay a visit to dad, try to at least"

"Okay then, I'm coming with" Y/N happily said.

This made Five look at her. Why must she confuse me like this? Does she think she has to help? Five thought to himself. After last night, he presumed she wouldn't want anything to do with him anymore. He presumed that all he was to her now was... A killer. And the fact that she wasn't totally wrong made him sad, this was one of the few things he knew after all. "No. You don't have to"

"But I want to, Five. I wanna help" Y/N said as a matter of fact, as she looked at him.

Maybe if Five wasn't so insecure, he would have known that nothing had changed. That her opinion on him didn't change just because he confirmed he was an assassin. But his mind was clouded. And now the only thing he could think about is that she was being like this out of obligation. That it wasn't real, because now she was probably scared of him. And it hurt him because he wanted it to be real.

Five gulped and opened his mouth to answer, but Diego arrived and suddenly the boy had nothing more to say. And so the three made their way to Reginald's Company.

_________

It didn't take long for them to arrive, the company was a huge white building. But it looked empty, abandoned even. It was already dark outside, the only sounds being from the crickets and the rustling leaves. The only lights being from the weak light poles of the empty street. So hopefully they were the only ones there.

Five, Y/N and Diego exited the car, making their way to the front doors. The place had grass around the front with a stone path leading to the entrance.

"D.S. Umbrella, this is it" Diego said as he looked at the building.

Noticing that Five had stopped walking, Y/N looked back at him. The boy had his hands on his pockets, but he looked nervous.

"You alright?" The girl asked with a gentle voice.

"Yeah, fine... Just..." Five answered, his tone made it seem like he didn't really pay attention to her question. But he started walking again.

"How long has it been since you've seen the old man, Five?" Diego asked as he crouched down in front of the door, trying to unlock it.

Five glanced at Y/N for a second before he leaned beside the door and answered Diego's question. "Forty-five years".

"Wow" Y/N's voice was barely audible, but Five heard it. The girl furrowed her brows, thinking about the new information. She knew Five had been lost for some time, but she had no idea it had been that long.

Noticing the tension between his brother and Y/N, Diego broke the silence. "So Y/N, how long have you been here?"

Y/N blinked at his question, bringing her focus back to them. "Um- three months"

"You were here longer than me" Diego mumbled to himself, stopping his work at the door for a moment and turning towards Y/N. "Did you hold up alright?"

"Yeah, for the most part" Y/N sighed, fidgeting with her hands. "I found work at a pet shop, kept me distracted"

Diego gave her a kind smile "good"

"Five told me about you" Y/N chuckled a little. "If you were out for a little longer, maybe we would have found each other"

Diego laughed as well "yeah it would have been nice to have a friendly face around" and with a small smile, he turned his attention back to the door.

Five watched their interaction silently. It wasn't often he saw Diego being so... Gentle? Y/N seemed to have such an easy way when interacting with people, even with his siblings. He found himself wishing he could talk with them that easily as well. And with her. Lowering his head, Five pursed his lips and looked inside the building. Teleporting in, he easily unlocked the door.

"Right" Diego scoffed. "Gotta remember that"

"Are we just gonna break in like that?" Y/N asked as the brothers made their way inside. She took slow steps behind them, looking around.

"Of course" Diego looked over his shoulder at her with a smile on his face.

Five turned on one of the table lamps, but not a second after, it was off again. The three of them furrowed their brows, that was odd. Y/N patted one of the armchairs and her hand came out full of dust. Abandoned indeed.

"Guess dad wasn't much of a home decor" Diego wondered. That was an understatement.

"Feels more like a front" Five's voice was serious as he analyzed the place.

"For what?" Y/N asked, walking closer to the brothers.

"I don't know"

Diego looked between them. "Well, I'll take the left. You two go right. Yell if you uh... Get in trouble" and so he made his way to the left door.

Five let out a sigh. He held the right door open and took a quick glance up towards Y/N. "Let's go"

Walking in, Y/N saw herself in a gray corridor full of doors on both sides. Five was walking close behind her, in case something were to happen.

Y/N tried to open one of the doors, but it was locked. But Five was luckier with his try. Turning on the lamp inside the room, they could see what was supposed to be a living room. But instead of real people, there were mannequins sitting on the couch. It all seemed like it hadn't been touched for a long time.

"What is all this? It's all... Fake" Y/N said as she braced herself on the threshold. She couldn't deny she was nervous, the whole place felt... Sinister in a way.

Five was standing right beside her, their shoulders almost touching. And he was doing his best to keep focused and not let the tension take over his body because now was not the time. "I don't know"

Eventually, they found more rooms, and all of them seemed to be staged to look like rooms from a normal house. They were all decorated with mannequins in places where people should be. Some of the rooms even had cameras on it. A literal stage, Y/N thought.

Right now Five and Y/N were inside of what was supposed to be a dining room, the place was full of dust. Long forgotten.

"Your father is a strange man Five. What is he doing here? Why are the rooms like this?" The girl said as she took some steps backward, looking at all the fake decorations.

Not looking where she was going to, Y/N eventually bumped into Five. She quickly turned around to look at him, an apology already on the way. But when she turned, she wasn't expecting him to be so close. Their noses brushed ever so slightly with her movement, a blush coming up to both of their faces not a second after.

Y/N quickly took a step back and blinked a couple of times, trying to focus her mind, her mouth opened and closed a few times in search of words. But Five beat her to it, barely.

"W-why don't you just go and check another room instead of bothering me with all these questions?" The boy hissed, his voice way harsher than he intended to. It was the tension speaking, the sudden closeness made him panic.

Y/N gulped and looked down, taken aback by his rudeness. "Sure" she muttered and made her way outside.

Once she was nowhere to be seen, Five let out a long sigh and ran his hands through his hair. "Shit"

Y/N entered an office, or what was supposed to be one at least. The desk was full of dust, which she blew away and sneezed in the process.

Rummaging through all the papers that were there, she found something about an invitation to a gala at the Mexican Consulate. Running her fingers through the neat typography Y/N figured that this might have some value, so she put the paper in her pocket.

Not long after, she heard a loud noise of glass shattering and then Five calling out for Diego. Y/N quickly made her way back to where the boy was, scared he might have been hurt or something.

Pushing the door open, Y/N saw the shattered window and Five sitting on the ground, with a hand on his neck.

"Jesus Five, I leave you alone for one goddamn minute..." the girl walked to Five and crouched down beside him. The boy let out a small grunt of pain, Y/N carefully removed his hand from his neck and saw four scratches. They weren't so deep, thankfully. "What the hell happened?"

Five averted his eyes from her. The touch of her hand on his made him feel uneasy. "It was Pogo"

"Pogo? The chimpanzee?" Y/N asked with a confused expression.

"Yeah" Five sighed. He felt kinda stupid for thinking that Pogo would have any other reaction. After all, he didn't know Five, not yet.

They both looked around the building for Diego but they couldn't find him anywhere. Eventually, Five said they should head back to Elliott's place, Diego would probably find his own way back anyway.

When they exited the building, Y/N's skin was hit with the cold air of the night, making her shiver a little. But nonetheless, she stopped to look up at the sky before entering the car. A small smile tugging at her lips. The sky was mostly free of clouds and due to the poor illumination of the street, most stars were visible. It was beautiful.

Five opened the driver's seat door, but when he saw that Y/N hadn't followed, he looked back to where they came from. He furrowed his brows when he saw her just standing there, looking up. "What are you doing?"

"The stars... They are still the same..." The girl finally looked down at him, and slowly walked in his direction. Her voice, her eyes, she looked so... Serene. Five tightened his grip on the car door.

"Still the same from our timeline. I used to look at the sky almost every night on the first nights that I spent here. It was... Comforting, in a way" Y/N confessed to him in the calmest voice he had ever heard. Five even felt the tension leave his own shoulders, just slightly.

Upon entering the car again, Y/N started to search in the glove compartment for something to clean up Five's scratches. She found a clean cloth and damped it with the water from the water bottle they had in there. Then she turned to Five, who was already sitting in the driver's seat.

"Turn around" Y/N said to him, holding the cloth in her hand.

Five looked at her, then down at her hand. "That's not necessary" His voice was serious.

"You have no idea where his hands were, I doubt you want an infection in there, so we have to at least clean it. Turn around" Y/N said more sternly, demanding even.

Five clenched his teeth and pursed his lips, suddenly feeling his palms start to sweat, and his heartbeat starts to quicken. But he complied and turned around to Y/N's direction.

Y/N gently brought the wet cloth to his neck, making Five hiss a little when it made contact with the open wounds. He refused to look at her, looking anywhere but at her direction. And Y/N didn't fail to notice that, or his tension, or his behavior for the entire day. The girl let out a soft sigh.

"Five" she whispered to him and lowered her hand from his neck, trying to sound as gentle as possible, her eyes looking at him with an unreadable expression. Sometimes he really looked like a wild cat. "Can you look at me?"

Five made an annoyed face but finally looked up at her. He was more nervous than annoyed, to be honest. He was feeling so much, why did she have to make him feel so much? Feelings that he didn't even understand completely. He wanted them to just go away, but at the same time... He didn't.

"You've been... Different since this morning. Did something happen? Did I do something to upset you? If I did, I-I'm sorry" Y/N said as she looked deep into his bright eyes. Intensely searching his face for some kind of clue to what he was thinking, he was hard to read.

Five just looked at her for a couple of seconds. He looked at the way her brows were furrowed just slightly in concern. At how her mouth was just a tad open, ready to say her next words. And at how her eyes looked at him with such... Care. Has someone ever looked at him like that? He couldn't remember. It all felt so real. Could it be? Oh, he wanted it, so much.

But then a thought came to Five's mind. Even if it was, there was no way that he deserved someone like her, not after everything he's done. That reality hit him like a bullet in the chest, and a shaky breath escaped him, making his lip quiver. Y/N probably noticed, and Five kicked himself mentally yet again. But before she could say anything, he did.

"No. But this is not your problem to fix"

"But I want to, Five. I'm stuck here just as much as you are" Y/N said incredulously. "I don't care what you did in the past, I'm your friend now, I wanna help you Five. I wanna help you fix all of this, but you have to let me" she said with as much conviction as she could muster, trying to finally make him understand that they were a team now.

Five gulped when he heard her words, he averted his gaze and looked forward. His hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. Does that mean that she doesn't mind that I was an assassin then? Five couldn't know for sure, but he really hoped that was it.

"Why do you care so much?" Five's voice was incredibly small as he asked that. His gaze was no longer so serious, he looked genuinely curious, lost.

Y/N slightly shook her head at his question. Has no one ever showed him a slight bit of kindness, for him to be like this? Five looked like he honestly had no idea that someone outside of his family could care about him. And it made Y/N sad to think of what he had probably been through to be like this, what kind of things he had missed. "Because I like you guys. We're together in this now"

"Alright then" Five said to her in a low tone, not trusting his voice to speak any louder.

Y/N let out a huff of breath and looked forward as well. Five was definitely a hard person to crack, but she was almost sure this harsh exterior was just a facade. More times than one now, she sometimes would catch a glimpse of the real him. That look in his eyes that sometimes escaped him. Lost and sad, almost begging for help. And she was more than willing to help, if only he'd let her. But if he wasn't going to let her in now, Y/N wanted to make sure to let him know that she was there. She would be there if he ever needs someone.

As none of them said anything else, Five turned on the car engine and drove them back to Elliott's.

The way back was spent in silence, both Y/N and Five lost in their own thoughts. When they finally arrived, the place was partially dark, the only lamps that were turned on didn't really do a good job of illuminating the place.

Diego was laid down on the couch, with Lila taking care of a wound he had in his abdomen.

"Huh, he isn't dead" Five said, unamused. His hands in his pockets while he looked at his brother. Y/N looked at him with an incredulous look.

"Disappointed?" Lila asked.

"Oh to see you? Always" Five gave the woman a malicious smirk.

Y/N just rolled her eyes at them and made her way to Diego, placing a careful hand on his shoulder. "Hey Diego, you alright?"

"Just fine" the man mumbled, half unconscious.

Y/N smiled and walked to stand beside Five again, until she spotted Elliott, still tied up to his chair. Her mouth opened in shock. "Oh my god, Elliott" she hurried beside him and started to undo the ropes in his hands. "I am so sorry for that".

Five chuckled at the scene. Making his way to the kitchen counter to prepare himself a cup of coffee. But before he could pour it, Y/N appeared beside him and grabbed the coffee pot from his hand, putting it down.

"I don't think that's wise" she raised her brow at him.

He looked at her ready to say some snarky comment, but she beat him to it.

"It's very late, Five. You'll be of no use for anyone if you are exhausted tomorrow" Y/N said as a matter of fact, with a small knowing smile on her face. "Try to get some rest"

Five huffed but put his mug down. Slowly but surely he was starting to feel himself become more comfortable in Y/N's presence again. He felt himself a little lighter, and it felt nice.

Y/N's smile grew and she put a hand on Five's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Goodnight Five"

Five felt his cheeks heat up, he just nodded at her and said "goodnight". His mouth formed a thin line as he saw Y/N leave the kitchen.

"Someone has a crush" Lila sang in a low voice once Y/N was gone.

Five gave her a deadly stare "shut up".

***

Thank you for reading ♥ the next part should be out soon. And if you have any idea about how this story should progress or anything you would like to see in it, please send me an ask or message and I’d be happy to include it. All opinions and feedback are appreciated ♥

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[kanerallels]

Donicus Crossover ATLA (PLEASE ADD TOPH PLZ PLZ PLZ) Thank you!!!

It would be my honor-- here goes nothing lol!!!

Pairing: Marcus Lanum/Idony St. Claire

Word count: ??? I'm on mobile rn, I'll update this later. Somewhere in the 1000s

Tags/Warning: G rating (for glaring, at Marcus, from Noah). One minor injury and a little blood

Getting lost in Republic City was no joke. The place was absolutely huge, with a lot of streets and different buildings. It was also decidedly unhelpful when some people in your group (Berlyne, Apen and Noah) wanted to go watch pro-bending, while others (Marcus, Enel and Idony) wanted to find the library. (Chara and Joe were undecided.)

“I could have sworn we should have turned left back there,” Marcus muttered, studying the map he was holding. The whole group had paused on a street corner, and he and Apen were studying the map, trying to figure out where they were. Berlyne and Noah were nearby, mostly making unhelpful comments as Enel and Chara ignored the whole proceedings while excitedly pointing out parts of the city to each other.

As for Idony, she had her arm tucked around Marcus’s, her head tilted up towards the sunlight as she listened to the city. Marcus paused a moment to look away from the map at her, seeing the way the sun glinted off her golden curls and a soft smile turned up the corners of her mouth.

Then he saw Noah shoot him a glare, and hastily redirected his attention to the map, just as Apen shook his head. “No, we were supposed to go straight-- if that’s even where we are. I think we’re on this street.” He jabbed a finger at a different spot on the map.

“Impossible,” Marcus protested. “We passed the candy store on Main Street-- that was where we got off track in the first place because Enel was trying to drag us in there.”

“Yeah, and we went east instead of north.”

“No, we--”

Berlyne let out an exasperated sigh. “You guys have been arguing about this for the past ten minutes. Why don’t we just ask for directions again?”

“We don’t need them!” Marcus said, lifting the map. “I can figure out where we’re going. Now, where did we turn past the police station again?”

“I’m with Berlyne,” Irony said to Marcus’s dismay. “We should just ask how to get there. Enel!”

The copper-haired boy turned from the fire hydrant he and Chara were admiring. “Yeah?”

“Would you and Chara find someone who can give us directions, please?”

“On it!” Enel promptly darted out into the street with Chara on his heels. He’d barely made it two steps when Marcus heard someone shout, “STOP!!”

Chara froze, and Enel, who did not stop, slammed straight into the source, a tan-skinned young man around Marcus’s age. He had a ponytail, although his hair was shaved at the sides, and wore a blue tunic and pants and blue fingerless gloves. At his side he wore a long sword that Marcus recognized from his reading as a jian, and on his back was a strangely triangular-shaped sheath of some kind.

He squinted at Enel. “Oh. Good news, guys, he’s not actually on fire. That’s just his hair.”

“Which is exactly what we told you,” pointed out one of his other two companions. They were both girls around his own age-- one in green robes and armor, her face painted completely white, with red above the eyes and along her lips. The other girl was younger and a little shorter, clad in what looked to be a green jumpsuit of some kind, with a pale yellow overtunic. She was shoeless for some reason, and her bangs hung loose over her eyes, which-- Marcus did a double take-- were filmed over in a similar manner to Idony. Was this girl blind, too?

Shrugging, Berlyne said, “Well, it’s an understandable mistake when it comes to Enel.”

Enel shot her a wounded look as Apen blurted out, “Wait-- are you a Kyoshi warrior?” He was staring at the girl in white makeup, who looked surprised.

“I am,” she said.

“I’ve read about those,” Marcus said, his eyes widening. “Named for the mythical Avatar Kyoshi, who supposedly founded them. You’re made up entirely of women and wield weaponized fans.”

“I heard stories about you growing up,” Apen said, his eyes going glassy as he clearly slipped back to the past. “My si-- uh, people I knew hero worshipped you guys.”

“We’re honored, in that case,” the girl said with a smile. “I’m Suki. This is Sokka of the Water Tribe, and Toph Beifong.”

“Beifong? As in Lao Beifong, the business man?” Apen asked.

Folding her arms, Toph said, “No, as in Toph Beifong, greatest earthbender in the world. Get that in your head, short stuff.”

“Hey!” Apen looked offended as Toph whipped out an arm, pointing directly at Marcus.

“As for you, yes, I’m blind. Stop staring or I’ll throw you in the ocean. I have pretty great range as an earthbender, you know.”

“I wasn’t staring,” Marcus protested, and Sokka chuckled.

“First mistake-- Toph can sense when you’re lying.” Leaning over to Apen, he said, “She really is the best earthbender ever. Don’t tell her I said it, though, it would only go to her head.”

“I can hear you, bozo,” Toph said flatly.

“Oops.”

Swatting Marcus’s shoulder, Idony said, “Marcus! That’s rude! But-- you’re blind, too?”

“‘Too?’” Toph echoed.

“Oh, yeah-- Idony’s blind,” Enel said helpfully. “She’s with Marcus.” He punctuated the “with Marcus” by wiggling his eyebrows aggressively.

Choosing to ignore him, Marcus said, “I didn’t mean to be rude, I was just surprised--”

“Don’t care,” Toph said, waving a hand dismissively, and Noah snorted.

“I might actually be starting to like this earthbender. Here’s a question-- can you actually launch someone into the harbor, and do I have to choose between Enel and Marcus?”

“Noah!” Idony said, irritation flashing across her face. “You’re not launching them anywhere.”

Noah grumbled something under his breath, and Berlyne snickered.

“Better luck next time. You’ll just have to do it yourself.”

“You two are my kind of people,” Toph said with a grin. “Okay-- wanna see something cool?”

“Sure,” Berlyne said, looking intrigued.

Taking a wide, firm stance, Toph took a long deep breath. Then, lifting one of her feet up, she slammed it back down into the pavement at the same time as she jerked her hands upwards. A spire of rock shot up out of the ground at Sokka’s feet, catapulting him into the air. He let out a yelp of horror. “TOPH! NOT AGAIN!!!”

Gasps of shock flew around the ground, but Suki and Toph seemed unbothered. With another earthbending move, Toph brought another spire of rock out of the ground, catching Sokka a few feet from the ground. He let out a grunt. “Ow…”

“You’re fine,” Toph said, waving a hand dismissively. “Nothing’s even broken.”

“True. Maybe warn me next time you shoot me into the air, though?” Sokka suggested, sliding off of the rock formation and onto the ground. “And also please put our city’s streets back the way they were.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Toph grumbled, bringing the rock towers back into the ground. They disappeared seamlessly, and she shrugged. “Well, it wasn’t the Earth Rumble, but still fun.”

“Wait-- did you compete in the Earth Rumble?” Berlyne demanded, and Toph smirked.

“Please, I owned the Earth Rumble. All those pansies went crying home once I was done.”

“Technically also true,” Sokka agreed. “I was there.”

“Tell me everything,” Berlyne demanded, and Marcus released a long suffering sigh.

Looking at Suki, he said, “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to give us directions? We’re trying to get to the library.”

“Pro-bending,” Apen corrected.

Grinning, Suki said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

The three of them moved to the side as Sokka began to give a play-by-play of the Earth Rumble, with Toph occasionally re-enacting moves. Finally, they were fairly certain they had a route mapped out.

“Okay,” Marcus was saying, “so we turn right here--”

He was cut off halfway through as Toph’s latest earth bending move sent rocks flying in their direction. One cracked into Marcus’s temple, and he crashed to the ground with a yelp of pain.

He heard a shout of concern that was probably Enel’s, a snort of amusement that was definitely Noah, and then Idony called his name.

“Marcus!”

She was by his side seconds later, kneeling next to him. “Are you okay?” she asked, a gentle hand touching the side of his face.

His eyes lingering on her face, Marcus felt his heart rate pick up slightly. “I’m, uh, better now,” he managed. “Much better.”

A smile crossed Idony’s face. “You must have been hit hard to be flirting in front of my brother.” Leaning down, she planted a kiss on his forehead, and if Marcus hadn’t been seeing stars before, he was now. “That always makes it better,” she told him.

“Definitely,” Marcus agreed.

He heard a strangled noise from above them, and glanced up to see Apen pointedly looking away from him. “Uh, you okay?” he asked, a slight grin crossing his face.

“You’re way too entertained by this, aren’t you?” Marcus said with exasperation.

“Maybe a little.”

As Apen and Idony helped Marcus to his feet, Sokka came hurrying over. “Ooh, that looks like a nasty cut,” he said, and Marcus lifted a hand to his temple, feeling blood. “Tell ya what, we’ll have my sister Katara look at it. She’s an expert healer with her water bending-- DEFINITELY don’t tell her I said that.”

“Wait,” Apen said, his eyes growing even wider. “Your sister is KATARA???”

"The famous healer?" Marcus said, impressed.

Letting out a groan, Toph said, "If they start swooning over someone every five minutes, it's gonna be a long day."

"And they don't even know that Katara's boyfriend is the Avatar," Sokka observed.

"He's WHAT???" Apen gaped at them.

"Yup. Swooning," Toph said with a sigh. Shooting Marcus and Idony-- who was still standing very close to him-- a look, she added, "And that's not even the only kind of swooning around her."

Noah looked like he wanted to gag, and Marcus almost protested. But then Idony slipped her hand into his, and. Well. Toph wasn't exactly far off. And he definitely didn't mind.

[simpsiren]

closer to you

lee jeno x reader

main masterlist

the sequel

description. you’re in a 2 year relationship with jaemin. the two of you know very well that you arent each other’s soulmates but you still felt that jaemin was the right one for you. that is until you are celebrating your 2 year anniversary with jaemin that memories of you being with someone else in your so called “past life” starts coming back to you, as if wanting to make you realise that your soulmate is still out there.

genre. soulmate au, strangers to lovers au, fluff and angst

warnings. none? except for the fact that reader becomes violent in their words when they’re stressed i guess

a/n. literally got this idea from the flashback tiktoks thats been appearing in my fyp. like ive seen it so many times that i just had to write about it HAHA alrighty thats all enjoyy :D

when the idea of soulmates was first represented to humans, humans deeply believed in it, and would follow the idea of it religiously to find the one that they are truly meant to be with. however, now in the modern day, the idea of soulmates is slowly disappearing. people still believe that the number engraved on the side of their right foot is the time and date that they’ll meet their soulmates, but people of this generation start ignoring that fact, marrying someone that isnt even their soulmate. it left their actual soulmate to either die alone, or having to force themselves to love and marry someone else other than their soulmate.

and now here you are, surrounded by your friends with jaemin sitting next to you, your boyfriend of two years who’s number on the side of his foot does not match yours.

“blow out the candles already!” you hear johnny screaming. you and jaemin turn to look at each other at the same time, giving a smile before blowing out the two candles on the red velvet cheesecake that signified your two year relationship with jaemin.

you laugh loudly as everyone claps for the two of you. jaemin quickly places a peck on your cheek, making everyone smile widely. “i love you.” jaemin whispers into your ear.

“i love you too.”

“do you really not care who your actually soulmate is? you know very well jaemin isnt yours.” you purse your lips into a thin line as you find jaehyun leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom.

“does it look like i care? who the hell even cares? ill be with who i wanna be! i aint gonna follow some ‘oh you’re destined to be with this guy’ type bullshit.” you giggle to yourself as you took a sip the whiskey in hand, despite already being in a very drunken state.

jaehyun walks over to you and snatches the glass away from you. you whine and beg for it back, but you know all too well that jaehyun is not going to give you what you want. you let out a huff in response.

“my god, evaline. how drunk can you be?” jaehyun takes a seat on the chair that faces your bed, in which you are currently rolling on and mumbling to yourself about god knows what.

jaehyun sighs as he looks at you. he’s been your friend for almost forever yet he still cant get over the fact that no matter how hard he tries to persuade you that jaemin isnt your soulmate, you give zero fucks about it.

“i really hope he comes in your dreams or something. if i can’t convince you, then why isnt the world doing anything about it?” jaehyun whispers to himself, resting his chin on his palm as his elbow is placed on the arm rest of the chair.

you wake up with a sharp pain in your head. you wince as you slowly tried to sit up straight. you rub your eyes and try looking around your room. everything is normal, except for the fact that jaehyun is sleeping on your chair. you shrug your shoulders as you let out a long sigh and stare at the door in front of you, spacing out for a little. after at least five minutes of you doing nothing and staring off into who knows what, you gather up your strength to stand up from your bed. you stagger your way over to jaehyun.

“jae, wake up already. make me something to sober up- ouch!”

your foot suddenly hurt, making you stumble back and fall onto the floor. you flinched in fear when you realise the number on your foot is glowing. you scream in pain as you feel as though something thin and sharp is constantly stabbing your foot. the spinning in your head only made it worse. jaehyun wakes up from all your screaming and drops down on the floor to assist you quickly.

“evaline? eva! what’s wrong? wait why’s it glowing..” jaehyun eyes travel from your scrunched up face to your leg, noticing the number that’s glowing.

suddenly, your vision became blurry. you lost sight of what’s happening around you. you dont see your room and jaehyun in front of you anymore. you struggled as you try to squint your eyes to get your vision to be clear. it took awhile for your vision to come back. and when it did, something wasnt right.

it was like you were having a flashback. a flashback to a time you were unfamiliar with. you didn’t remember experiencing it at all. but the flasback looked like memories that you feel a sudden strong connection with.

the flashback was vivid. you couldn’t tell exactly what was going on. you saw a guy, estimated to be around your age, who’s smiling widely till his eyes form a thin line and holding up a polaroid camera to your point of view. you heard him laugh as snaps a picture and the camera’s flash shined your view. you soon focused your vision again onto the guy. he’s waiting for the film to develop. and that’s all you saw. a small snippet of a far distant memory which you arent even sure if it happened.

after that, you snapped out of your odd trance. you feel jaehyun shaking your shoulders with the look of extreme concern on your face. you bring your hand up to your head and scratch it slowly as you tilt your head in awe. jaehyun stops his actions as looks at you wierdly.

“what the fuck did i just experience?” you mumble to yourself, trying to process what you just went through. you look up from the floor to see jaehyun blinking his eyes rapidly.

“you saw what?”

you were this close to slapping jaehyun in the face.

“how many times do i have to fucking repeat myself?! i got a flashback of a memory of some random dude that i dont even know about!”

jaehyun’s mouth remains open in shock and confusion. it took him a few seconds to process your words. and when it did, he places both his hands on the table.

“its a sign.” your forehead creases as you look at him weirdly.

“the fuck you just say?” you pick up your fork and stab it into your freshly cooked fried chicken meal.

“is this the first time you experience it?” jaehyun asks you as he takes a sip of water. you took a moment to think about it.

“yeah it is.” you breathe out. jaehyun only nodded his head. he starts thinking about what he wished for that night had something to do with what happened to you.

“you know what? forget it. i need to meet up with jaemin for our date. ill see you around.” you finish what’s left on your plate, waving to jaehyun before leaving the restaurant.

jaehyun watches your back as you slowly disappear into the distance. “it cant be... can it?” jaehyun shakes his head and continues eating.

“hey, babe. how was lunch with jaehyun?” jaemin wraps his arm around your waist as he leans down to peck your lips.

“it was good. let’s get ice cream.” you give off a wide smile and dragged jaemin to the famous ice cream shop that you were dying to try.

by the time you were halfway to finishing your ice cream, it was already 8pm. you’re weekly ice cream date with jaemin never fails to be extended as your chats with him grow longer and longer with every date.

as jaemin was talking, your mind goes back to the time you had that odd flashback. you wonder what it meant, or whats the significance of it. why did that suddenly happen to you? what can you do to make it go away? because for all you know, you have everything you need right here, in front of you. you had jaemin.

“eva? hello~?” jaemin waves his hand in front of you to snap you back into reality. you shake your head vigorously. “oh shit im sorry jaemin what did you say?” jaemin smiles softly as he repeats over what he say.

it was about 10pm and you decided it was finally time to go home. you would have taken the train alone but jaemin insisted on accompanying you home and going back by himself after. you and jaemin were walking down the street that will lead to your apartment when jaemin sudden opens his mouth to ask you something.

“did you ever believe about the soulmate thing?” you stop walking and turn your body to face jaemin. jaemin does the same, shoving his hands in his pockets.

you shrug your shoulder and placed your weight on one leg. “i used to, but i slowly started to think it was ridiculous and that i should be able to love who i want, not someone im destined to be with.” you reply, slowly reaching your hand out to run your hand through jaemin’s hair. he smiles at your touch and pulls you in with your other arm, hugging you gently.

“im glad to be the one that you love, despite the fact that im not who you’re destined to be with.” jaemin strokes your hair and digs his head into the crook of your neck. you rub his back slowly. “me too.” you kiss jaemin on the cheek and pull away, smiling softly. “come on, we’re almost at my apartment.” your hands trailed down to meet jaemin’s, interlocking your fingers with his and you both continued walking down the long street.

however, for the first time, it felt as though jaemin’s hand didn’t sit right with yours, like his hand didnt belong to fit in yours. you look down at the interlocking hands. you never felt this way before. why did it occur to you only now?

“something on your mind, eva?” you hear jaemin ask. you shot your gaze up from your jaemin’s hand to his eyes, shaking your head as you faked a smile.

weird

a week has passed since that weird encounter of yours. you couldn’t get it out of your head. every hour of the day you’ll spare a few minutes thinking about it. why did you feel so connected to it? you felt eager to know about what i meant. why did a few seconds of experiencing a distant memory would be etched into your mind as you constantly replay what you saw that time?

you found it funny how you were already so deep in your thoughts early in the morning. you lay in bed looking through your social medias for awhile before getting out of bed to head to the living room.

you see jaehyun sitting on the couch, immensely concentrated on whatever’s on the television screen. you take a seat beside jaehyun, looking down, you see him munching on a bowl of popcorn.

“popcorn for breakfast. really?” you raise an eyebrow as jaehyun nods his head and offers the bowl. you take it regardless of your comment and stuffed popcorn in your mouth.

“you didn’t shower yet?” jaehyun asks. you only shrug in reply. jaehyun looks at you with a disguested look.

“i bet you didn’t shower either, now did you?” jaehyun kept quiet as his eyes widened yet still glued onto the screem. you observed his reaction and scoff, rolling your eyes. “idiot.” jaehyun glances at you and chukles, reaching out to take a handful of popcorn.

“what are you even watching?”

“a movie that i didn’t finish last night.” that explains the popcorn then.

you focus your mind on the movie, despite not knowing what it’s about. everything seemed normal until you see a couple suddenly come on screen. they’re apparently at a amusement park.

almost instantly, you lost sight of your surroundings. oh no.. it’s happening again. you shut your eyes tightly as your vision became blurry once again. you opened your eyes widely to find yourself at an amusement park. a flashback is now occuring, this time it was different.

the flashback. it wasnt a memory you’re unfamiliar with. its jaemin. you see jaemin come into view. it looked like you were taken back to your third date where jaemin brought you to an amusement park. you see him running in front of you happily. jaemin was about to turn around, and you remembered that exactly after that he smiled at you. but he doesn’t. you realise that its not even jaemin.

the one you’re seeing now is the guy from your previous flashback. the polaroid guy. he smiled the exact same way he did when he took the picture of you in the flashback. the guy reaches out to take your hand and you’re being pulled towards him. why does it feel like you’ve seen him somewhere? or maybe you haven’t, but feel like you would some time in the future.

“eva? god, evaline! wake up please!” you hear jaehyun’s voice.

“did it happened agai-“

“it happened again.”

you look around. everything was back to normal. you look at jaehyun. but his eyes were fixated on your foot, he looks shocked. you slowly tilt your head down to look at the number on your right foot. it changed. the number.. reshuffled themselves?

“you’re seeing that too right..?”

you nod your head slowly. its getting more weird. the number on your foot said that you’ll meet your “soulmate” on february 12th, 2020 at 7:06pm. but now, it changed itself to become december 6th, 2020 at 2:19am.

basically it went from 12.02.2020 19:06 to 06.12.2020 02:19

“did i space out again?” you look up at jaehyun as he nod slowly, still looking at your foot in shock. you couldn’t blame him. what happen? did it somehow extended the time you’re about to meet your soulmate? why did it happen? what does it mean?

you told jaehyun what happen. and he almost fainted. you let out a long sigh.

“im telling you its a sign. probably the guy you’re seeing is your soulmate.” jaehyun says lazily and he muched on some strawberry pocky.

“then why was jaemin in the flashback too? isnt it weird?” jaehyun nods his head quickly. he puts down the pack of pocky on his lap and blinks a couple of times. you see the gears turning in his head as you assume that he’s trying to come up with an explanation.

“maybe jaemin’s tied to the guy? like maybe jaemin knows him. or the dude’s from your past life and somehow jaemin is representing the guy in your present life.” jaehyun looks down to see his pocky was stolen from you. you nod your head and you continuously stuffed each stick into your mouth and eating them. “urgh i dont fucking know what to do about this!” you groan in frustration. suddenly, something hits you.

“wait. what’s today’s date?”

jaehyun lifts his phone up to check. “30th november. why?” jaehyun asks. “oh wait.”

“you’re telling me i have a full week until i meet my so called soulmate that i dont even know where ill meet him?!”

you scoff in disbelief. jaehyun doesnt respond, only staring at your face like he’s seen a ghost.

“can i somehow break someone’s neck and slam it on the wall for like i dont know, 5 hours?!”

no reply from jaehyun once again.

“oh for fuck’s sake i cant do this! im heading to johnny’s tea shop for my depression tea. meet me there if you want, i’ll probably be there the whole day as my head constantly spins.”

you quickly got up from the couch and get ready. jaehyun sees you coming out of your room with a hoodie and plain wide legged jeans. you only grab your phone and keys and waved jaehyun goodbye before leaving the apartment. jaehyun sighs.

“i might have set her temper circuit short.” jaehyun whispers to himself and sighs, getting off the couch as well to head over to johnny’s tea shop. “literally could have drove her there but oh well.”

when you enter the shop, johnny face lit up with a huge smile. he runs over to hug you but his smile soon fades away and into a confused look when he sees how pissed you look.

“that’s very... interesting.” johnny comments. you sigh and nod, fiddling with the teaspoon in your drink. “yeah well its not going to be fun once jaemin knows.” johnny stops in his actions and looks up at you. your eyes glanced at johnny before tilting your head up from the drink that wrapped around your hands.

“yes i haven’t told jaemin. i didn’t think it meant anything at first but now...”

“you have to tell him! soon! its a sign!” johnny exclaims. you smacked your hand onto your forehead lightly. “i’ve heard that phrase countless of times by jaehyun and now you too? can you please explain?” you whine, scratching your head vigorously as you argrily take a sip of tea.

you were stressed, very stressed. life was going so well until this happened. you dont know who the mystery guy is. you dont know why he’s “memories” with you suddenly come back, especially when you’re in a really intimate relationship with jaemin. the same question keeps repeating in your head over and over each day and it gets more stressful when you try to think of an answer for them.

“no no listen. it happened to my relative. she was 3 months away from marrying her boyfriend who’s number doesnt match hers. and then she started getting weird flashbacks and she said that the number on her foot changed so that she wouldn’t miss a chance to meet her soulmate in the future instead of the past. and the so called memories? they’re memories that you’ll make with your soulmate once you meet them. the world is trying to make you realise that the guy in your flashbacks is your soulmate and not jaemin.”

you kept silent. so what jaehyun said was right. it was a sign to encourage you to find your real soulmate instead of settling for the one you arent meant to be with. you let out a sigh of relief as you finally know the background information to your whole situation.

“that’s a lot to take in.. how am i suppose to tell jaemin?” you frown as you look out the window. you love jaemin, very much. but to be honest, for the whole 2 years of your relationship with him, everything felt perfect, yet something was off. you never managed to pin point what, until now.

“oh i texted him just now when you were talking to me and he’s coming since he wants to see you.” great. you arent mentally prepared to tell jaemin yet and he’s going to arrive here in 15 minutes.

“evaline! johnny texted me saying you were here and i immediately rushed over.” jaemin comes up from behind and kisses your cheek. you purse your lips into a thin line and you look to johnny leaving his seat. he nods his head, in a way to give you confidence to tell jaemin about the whole ordeal.

“jaemin.. i have to tell you something.” when jaemin takes the seat where johnny sat, you reach your hand out to grab his, slowly soothing your thumb over his skin. “mhm yeah what?” you look up from his hand to his face.

“ive been getting um.. signs lately. flashbacks. jaehyun told me that the guy, who’s always the main subject of my flashbacks could be my soulmate. and i might be meeting him soon, on 6th december.” you whisper to him, biting your lip.

jaemin swallows his own saliva, blinking at you a few times as he tries to process what you said. he lets out a long sigh and painfully puts on a soft smile.

“i knew it was going to happen to one of us sooner. ive heard about the flashbacks. its bound to happen sooner or later.” you nod your head in response.

“im sorry, jaemin. i love you very much-“

“its fine. i understand. im glad the world made you realise that you’re soulmate is still wondering around somewhere, and that it isnt me. im happy i got to spend 2 years loving you.. it made me feel good.” you interlocked your fingers with his, smiling softly before letting go.

you could tell jaemin was hurt. like a knife was stabbed into his heart. you see it behind his smile, his eyes. you knew him all too well.

“we’ll still be friends. and i hope you’re soulmate will come to you.”

jaemin only nods. you lean in and give one last passionate kiss on the cheek before hearing the bell above the door ringing, and noticing that jaehyun has arrived.

december 3rd, 2020. you’re three days away to meeting your soulmate. where? you werent sure.

“good morning, evaline.” you hear jaehyun say. you just got out of bed and you were walking to the kitchen when you see what jaehyun was doing. he’s reading a book. your vision went blank.

its another flashback. you start to mentally prepare yourself as yoh want to absorb as much information as possible on your soulmate in the small portion of the memories.

“the book’s is interesting.” you’re hearing your soulmates voice. you try to figure out if you’ve heard it or not, but shake it out of your head when yoh remember your goal of gathering information. you registered the tone of his voice.

he’s sitting on a bed with round gold glasses on, in his pajamas.

your soulmate laughs. the same way he did the first time. he turns the book to you and it showed his phone betweem the pages of the book, resting there. “just joking!” you hear him say. you take a look at the wallpaper of your soulmate’s lockscreen. it was a picture of him kissing your cheek. it looked oddly the same as the picture you and jaemin once took together. however, there was a text above the picture. evaline heather and lee jeno

lee jeno. that’s the name of your soulmate.

december 5th, 2020. you’re starting to mentally prepare yourself. you dont know where you’re about to meet him. you tried coming up with all possibilities. to be frank, you were more excited about whether the places you thought of might be the place you meet your soulmate rather than being nervous.

the three flashbacks you had. it felt all too familiar. like you’ve known this lee jeno person forever. you feel the connection each time.

when the clock strikes 12am, your mind unknowingly decides to go to the park. the park where you and jaemin first met. you dont know why. it felt like your body was urging you to go there. you lazily got ready and headed out the door, of course you told jaehyun about your outing before leaving the apartment.

you had your hands shoved into your pockets with your hoodie on as you yawned. you breathed in the night air, admiring it dearly. when you reached the park, a quick glance at your phone told you that its 2am. you sigh and took a seat on the bench mindlessly after walking around the park.

you sat there for a few minutes, looking up into the sky and staring off into the distance. suddenly, you felt a presence next to you. you turn your head over to see a guy.

“you seemed pretty lonely so i brought ice cream-“

that voice.

“what’s your name?” you interrupt

the guy pauses and smiles. his face, his smile. its just like the one in your flashback.

“lee jeno. you?”

you didn’t reply. its him. he’s your soulmate, he’s here.

“why does it feel like ive known you for a very long time..?” you slowly started to ask as your eyes looked at him up and down.

jeno chuckles. “maybe..” you see jeno taking off his slipper on his right foot and lifting up his foot. you see the exact number that’s engraved on your foot.

“im your soulmate.”

[ggukkiedae]

❝𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤❞

𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜:

⇢ jeno explores the streets of la with hannah

⇢ set in january 2018

𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜:

⇢ conversations written in italics are spoken in english. requests and feedback are highly appreciated!

“This isn’t a good idea, Hannah.”

“Jeno, it’s only eight. Relax.”

Jeno looked around anxiously. He didn’t think that he’d be spending his last night in LA walking around some unknown streets with one of his best friends. Not that he didn’t like being with Hannah. On the contrary, he loved being with her. It’s just the concept of roaming around an unknown city at night that freaked him out.

“Hey, you cute little thing!”

A man whistled in Hannah’s direction. She just rolled her eyes at him. Jeno, on the other hand, turned towards the man and narrowed his eyes. He knew that people in America did things like this, but he didn’t think he’d have to watch someone do it to Hannah. He glared and draped an arm around Hannah, pulling her closer to him. Maybe he should have insisted on her wearing jeans instead of shorts. Well, he wouldn’t be able to stop her anyway.

“It isn’t safe for you,” he pulled her along faster.

“Okay, big boy, first of all,” she laughed and wrapped an arm around his waist, “I’m not alone. You’re here with me. Second, I’m from California. I know my stuff.”

“Yeah,” he gave her a pointed look, “San Francisco, not LA. And how long do you think it is till someone notices that I’m not some grown man and that I’m only seventeen in this country?”

She scoffed, “Seventeen-year-olds in this country have gone to prison.”

“Not helping!”

Jeno could only hang his head in exasperation as Hannah laughed at him. Here he was worrying about her safety (and his own!), and she was just laughing in his face. He halted and let go of her, taking a step back and watched her throw her head back in amusement. She seemed to act way more carefree now that they were in America.

He was surprised when she took his hand and pulled him forward. 

“Stop staring, Jen, and hurry up! I found this really good street with tons of food carts online.”

Jeno did not know what was happening.

Well, he had a good comprehension of English because of being with Hannah and Mark most of the time, but everything around him was zipping past his ears. All he could focus on was how Hannah was rushing around the streets more excited than she had been in a few years. For the first time in a while, she was genuinely glowing with youth. 

For some reason, it made his heart speed up.

And he was distracted enough to accidentally run into a small group of people. He jolted back to reality and muttered a quick sorry and stepped to the side. The group of girls giggled and moved to the side, whispering things to each other and looking at Jeno in a way that made him uncomfortable.

“Hannah?” He looked around for her, wondering where she went.

“Yes?”

“Yah!” Jeno jumped as she appeared right in front of him. “Don’t scare me like that. Those girls over there are scary enough.”

Her scan of him made him feel queasy. It was almost as if she could see right through him. For some reason, it made him a little nervous. Anyway, he watched the way her eyes trailed him from head to toe, then he followed as they glanced over to the group of girls he pointed to earlier. They were now grimacing as they looked at Hannah, but the smiles appeared on their faces once they caught him looking once again. That was weird.

“They like you,” she smirked.

Jeno’s jaw dropped. “What? No, they don’t.”

“Trust me, Jen, they do,” she crossed her arms, but not before she tugged a little bit at his jacket. “I dressed you well, and you’re not so bad on the eyes for a nineteen-year-old.”

“Seventeen in this country, and you just used the clothes from our filming,” he rolled his eyes before leaning down to align his face with hers and raising his eyebrows. “Are you calling me handsome?”

“Please,” she scoffed at him, “I’m speaking objectively. And you know you look good. Those girls staring at you? It’s on you, my friend.”

Jeno looked back at the group of girls in a mix of discomfort and disgust. He wanted them off his back as soon as possible. He looked back at Hannah with a silent plea for help. She just chuckled and pressed a kiss to Jeno’s cheek and, for the second time that night, took his hand.

“Now they think you’re off-limits,” she grinned. “You’re welcome.”

“Thanks.” They walked off towards a less crowded street that seemed to have a few more high-end shops compared to the food carts they had been going through. That’s when he realized. “Hey, what about you? Why aren’t guys staring at you?”

“Calling me pretty, now?” she asked him, making him shrug, face lightly heating up. “Well, I’m here with you, and all those guys who I saw notice me saw you.”

He smirked at her. “They think I’m your boyfriend, huh?”

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?” The way she looked at him, the playful glint in her eye made his breath hitch in his throat and heart skip a beat. She laughed. “Trying to be as flirty as Nana, Jeno? Yeah, nice try.” 

He watched as she walked down the street, pulling him along with her. Why did he get flustered? Why did the thought of people thinking he was her boyfriend satisfy him? Why did seeing their clasped hands make his insides melt? And why did seeing the way she laughed while showing him the streets of LA make his heart race?

Oh no.

He knew where this was going, and he didn’t think he liked it.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” she asked him, eyebrows knitting together in slight worry. “Why are you being so quiet?”

It took one look at her worried face that made all these thoughts flow into him at once. She made him feel comfortable. She didn’t make things easy, and she knew him. She knew when he was ecstatic, she knew when he was upset, and he could easily talk to her about everything. 

He liked her.

“Jen?”

Oh god, he liked her.

“Jeno?”

He liked his best friend and groupmate. He liked the girl standing in front of him. He liked Lee Hannah.

“Lee Jeno!”

“Let’s get rings!”

He nearly regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. He watched as the worry disappeared from her face, replaced by a chuckle.

“Okay,” she shook her head in amusement, “a little fast there. You’ve gotta at least take me out to dinner before asking me to marry you.”

“No!” The sudden raise in his voice called a few bystanders’ attention. Jeno facepalmed. “I mean, not like that, Hannah. It’s just that you’re gonna be with 127 and with U now, and I don’t think I’ll be there for all your stages…”

That was a good save, he thought to himself.

“So to keep up our tradition?” she smiled. “Sounds like a good idea.”

He was grateful that that seemed to distract her from how weird he was acting. He looped her arm through his and pulled her over to one of the jewelry stores he could see on the street. “Come on, I’ll pay.”

“Are you sure? Because I can do half.”

“No,” he shushed her, “consider this my Christmas present. I told you I’d get you one in LA. You just need to do the talking.”

The huge smile on her face was worth it.

That’s how he found himself watching while Hannah looked around the cases in the jewelry shop, constantly asking Jeno for his opinion on which rings would look best on them without hindering their stage outfits. Well, not like Hannah would care. Knowing her, she’d wear it without hesitation whether or not the stylists let her. And if she would do that, then so would he.

“Oh, how about this?” she pointed to two simple silver bands. “It says here that we can engrave stuff on the inside. How about crowns?”

“Crowns?” He was amused by her excitement over everything. 

“Yeah,” she grinned. “Jaehyun oppa calls me princess, and it caught on with the other oppas. And the fans call you a prince. It seems fitting.”

“It seems so,” he nodded. “Don’t they look a little small, though?”

“True,” she pondered before calling over an employee. “Excuse me? Do these rings come in bigger sizes?”

“Choosing a promise ring for you and your boyfriend?” The clerk gave them a knowing look.

Well, Jeno knew what that meant. He shook his hands and laughed.

“Oh, he’s not my boyfriend,” Hannah clarified, “he’s my best friend. We kind of just want matching rings for this tradition that we have before we go on stage.”

“Sorry,” the clerk apologized, “I just assumed. Dancers, huh?”

“You can say that.”

“Well, this is a good choice,” the clerk took the rings out of the case and showed it to them. “This is stainless steel, and it doesn’t corrode or get scratches easily. Also, it’s meant for your pinkies, so it’s naturally small.”

Hannah quickly translated it for Jeno, and he picked one of the rings up to have a closer look. It was simple and understated, and they could easily add it to stage or photoshoot outfits without being scolded. 

“I like it.”

“Me, too. Can we possibly get a crown engraved on the inside of each of them?”

“You’d have to come back here in thirty minutes,” the clerk pondered, “and the store usually closes at that time, but I guess you can come back at 11:30, and I’ll have these ready for you. There’s a cafe down the street that’s open till three in the morning. You can wait there. How will you pay?”

“Thank you,” Hannah smiled, “by card, please. Yah, Jeno, it’s already eleven?”

“Huh?” Jeno checked his phone, and his eyes widened as he saw both the time and the amount of missed calls from Jaemin and Mark. He shook his head and pulled out his wallet while the clerk brought them over to the counter. “Hannah, check your phone.”

“Oh shit,” she mumbled once she saw her screen. “Mark is so gonna kill me. I told him we’d be back by nine.”

The two exchanged a look. The clerk handed Jeno his card and a claim stub back. He accepted it and turned back to Hannah.

“Should we buy them food to make up for it?”

“Probably.”

Thirty-five minutes later, Jeno and Hannah find themselves walking back to their hotel, new rings on their fingers. Jeno couldn’t help smiling when he saw the light reflect off of the band on Hannah’s pinkie while she talked to Mark. It was an English conversation, and he didn’t really try comprehending it.

He watched the way her eyes lit up as she looked at their surroundings, a stark difference from Korea and Ukraine, which she had just visited. She was radiating excitement despite probably being scolded by Mark over the phone. She glowed differently under the lights of LA’s nightlife, and it was something he was glad he could witness.

The glimmer of her new ring once again caught his attention. He lifted his own pinkie which held his ring and poked hers without a thought, making her glance at him in the middle of her explaining something to Mark. She laughed and hung up on the elder and looked at Jeno.

“We’re in trouble with Mark,” she began, “but the managers know nothing.”

“Good,” he draped an arm around her. “We’re in the clear, then.”

“We’ll see,” she snorted. “When Mark gets mad, he gets mad. But, hey. We’re in this together.”

Jeno raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re his roommate.”

“And you’re my best friend,” she laughed while holding up her pinkie to show her ring.

“Right. Best friend.”

[nautiscarader]

Nautiscarader’s Wendip Week day 3: Prank War

geez, this one took a while. I apologise, and let’s hope next one will arrive faster

 (ao3)

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

Someone standing outside of The Mystery Shack might have thought that the living room contained a very predictable lighting bug, or at least that someone inside was broadcasting a rather boring Morse code message using light signals.

In reality, it was just Wendy and Dipper, slouched on the sofa, surfing TV channels, giving each of them at most three seconds to entertain their bored minds. So far, none of them stood up to the challenge.

But as Wendy continued the only physical activity she had the energy for, i.e. pressing one button, something finally caught their attention.

- "What's up everyone? It's your boy, the Prankster Prancer!"

A loud, obnoxious, blonde man in his twenties, wearing spiky, gelled hair rode into the shot on a fake unicorn, face-hugged the camera, filling the wide-angle lens and made both Dipper and Wendy jump in their seats as loud horn noise shook the air around them.

- Wait, I thought this guy was only on the internet! - Wendy raised her brow - Did he escape to the real world?! - Come on, who in the right mind would give him a show? - "So, first of all, thanks to our station, The Cheese Network, for giving me the chance to entertain you guys..."

Dipper and Wendy groaned in collective understanding.

- "...and for giving us some cheese to pay for our last week's prank!"

The screen dimmed and the camera changed to an aerial shot, containing not only fires and flood, but also several military helicopters.

- "So last time we did some EPIC prank during the gender reveal party and we've made a hole in the ozone hole!"

The man made extra effort to extend every vowel in the last word, to an equally obnoxious collection of sound effects.

- Wow. That looks... bad. Even by our standards. - Wendy watched the footage. - Yeah. Good thing this dude stays away from us. - "And now it's time to reveal the next place for our EPIC PRANK!"

The man took a baseball bat and unceremoniously smashed the unicorn doll in half, and stuck his hand in the fake guts, revealing an envelope.

- "And this one is a suggestion from my top commentator on-line, that girl leaves comments under every single one of my videos, so I could not ignore her request".

The envelope was opened, and suddenly, a girl's voice began reading it.

- "Dear Prankster Prancer. I love your videos, and how creative your calamity can be..." - Wait a minute - Dipper sat up, as his eyes widened in horror - Is that- - "My name is Mabel Pines, and I am staying in a small town called Gravity Falls, in Oregon...".

Dipper and Wendy looked at each other and understood each other at once.

- Barricade the doors!

But it was too late. As Dipper ran towards the lobby, the door were smashed to the ground, seemingly under the power of the air horns, and flooded the Shack with lights. The same blonde man walked inside, as if he owned the place, leading with him Mabel Pines.

- What's up birches? Is that how you call people living in the middle of a forest? - he shoved his face to the camera again. - More like, in the middle of nowhere! - Mabel added, high-five'ing him - Thankfully, me and my Prankster Protégé are gonna rock this place! - he shouted.

Dipper Pines stood up and cleaned himself from the dust and debris, watching as the two rock their heads to some aggressive tune.

- Hold on a minute! Mabel, why did you invite him here? If anything, there's too much going around in here! - Ugh, this is my little brother, Dipper. - Mabel rolled her eyes - I'm-I'm not little! - Dipper stomped in place - We're twins!

Somewhere behind him, Wendy snickered.

- What, you just look adorable when you're angry.

Dipper turned back and stormed towards his sister.

- Mabel, do you have amnesia or something? Gravity Falls is full of amazing things! We've been on treasure hunts, found all sorts of monsters in every lake, glade and a cave... You wanted to date a zombie on out first day here! - Yeah, sure, kid, as if I could just walk into a forest and find a dead body... - the Prankster took a sip of soda, looking somewhat nervously. - Mabel, we've seen living dinosaurs here! - Yeah, like I can see one now!

The Prankster pointed to the kitchen and very confused Grunkle Stan in his pajamas.

- What in the DMV is going on here? - Check this out, a living fossil!

The Prankster jumped towards Grunkle Stan and unceremoniously took a selfie with him.

- Oh no, my eyes! The light is coming towards me instead of the other way around!

Stan cried when flash of light blinded him, and with a sleigh of hand, the blonde man undid his belt, causing Stan to nearly trip and fall, if it wasn't for Wendy.

- Hey, you! You're not a prankster, you're a jerk!

At the sound of those words, the man stopped laughing and turned his attention, as well as cameras, towards Wendy.

- What's that? We've got ourselves a HATER!

An air horn was about to blow her hat off, but Wendy swiftly grabbed it and twisted it.

- Yeah, that's what I've said, you're a jerk. I like pranking people, but not to hurt them. - And watchu gonna do, leave a mean comment? - No, we're gonna prank you. - Wendy reached and brought Dipper towards her. - Cos we've done some pranking together ourselves! - Like what? - Like... when we've made our friend think his inflatable tube could talk!

The Prankster shot them with a dead stare.

- You know what, I don't even have time to play the "wah-wah" soundbite. But if you want to lose, your call. Tomorrow, we're gonna get an EPIC PRANK-OFF!

And he shot a pose in front of the camera.

- Right, now tell me where's someplace to eat. And they better have unlimited refills. - Lazy Susan is neat. And there's water tower nearby...

And with that, he and Mabel walked off, leaving the small destruction behind them.

- Wendy! - Dipper turned at once towards her - Are you crazy? He has entire film crew! And money! And very little empathy! He's gonna plough through us! - Chill out, man, we're gonna trick him, one way or another.

And she gently smacked the edge of his hat.

- Er, I know you guys like to babble all the time, but I still can't get up. - Grunkle Stan grumbled from the floor.

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

The next day, Wendy woke up at the break of dawn with unbridled optimism. Dipper less so, and he was a bit nervous when Wendy gathered him and her crew in the small lumberjack shack in the woods to explain the plan of action.

- So, any questions? - she asked

At the same time, every teenager in the small room raised hands.

- So, how does exactly the can of whipped cream is supposed to work with the rake? - Tambry asked - And what do we have to do with the rat-shaped balloons? - Thompson asked shyly. - And can't we just... punch him? - Robbie suggested, mimicking the action. - Ugh, you guys!

Wendy groaned and hid her face in her hands. hearing the murmurs of doubt across the room, Dipper quickly stood up and continued.

- Guys, this jerk is giving us, pranksters, a bad name! We gotta prank him in a way that shows we are better... Because we can do better!

He watched as faces of the older teenagers brighten with his speech. Several of them even smiled.

- Plus he could, like, sue us for millions of dollars, so we gotta stay clean.

With newly gained optimism, the gang rushed to Thompson's van and readied themselves for the prank.

- Thanks, man, for giving me a hand. - Wendy suddenly patted Dipper's back. - Oh, no-no problem. - Dipper spoke, wondering if she noticed his blush.

=========

- Alright, we're all in places.

Wendy spoke to her phone, and observed the places, leaning from behind the wall. Her eyes moved from Robbie, hidden in the abandoned ice-cream stall, to Thompson, on top of a tree, to Tambry, pretending to read a large newspaper, and finally, to Dipper, holding a bag of provisions.

- We-Wendy, I'm not sure if this is gonna work. - Now!

She commanded, as Prankster walked nonchalantly out of the store. He thre away the half-eaten sandwich he just bought and was about to walk into the string that would have activate the whipped cream... if he didn't make a sudden jump.

He then threw something into the stall.

- Oh, crap, it's a grenade!

Robbie stormed out, tripping on the same wire he helped setting up, which resulted in his black hair covered in white goo and sprinkles.

Tambry was supposed attack next, but Prankester was already next to her. He took a bucket of soapy water and dumped it over her, destroying her diguise that covered her pruple hair.

For Thompson, he didn't even have to do much - he threw a mouse toy into the air, and listened how the boy tumbles down, shrieking.

And finally, he took something big and colourful out of his backpack and tossed it onto the street, watching as Dipper and Wendy rush towards it.

- Limited edition Giraffeoala!

They realised the two were after it when it was too late. Their heads collided with each other, just as the elusive plushie was yanked from their hands, back into his bag.

- Seriously, guys? You wanted to outsmart me? There like five of you and you couldn't do it. - Ha! That was a good one! - Mabel emerged from behind his back and did another high-five. - But I couldn't do it without you. - he pointed at her. - Me? But I didn't do anything... - Of course you did.

The Prankster lowered his sunglasses.

- Last evening at that stupid bar. You told me you were friends with everyone here. You told me how one of them likes gloomy, dark places. Like another one is afraid of mice. Like another one never looks away from her phone...

Mabel's ecstatic, radiant smile faded with each word the Prankster spoke, and her eyes, widened from excitation began to fill with tears.

- And, well, you told me what these two dorks are obsessed about... amongst other things. - Mabel! - Wendy and Dipper cried at the same time. - But-But I didn't... - Aw, really? You feel sad for them? LAME. - he pushed her aside and waved for his crew that followed him anyway.

For quite a while, all the small town could hear was Mabel Pines sobbing, until someone closed his arms around her.

- There, there, sis. - Dipper spoke quietly. - I guess you see why were so angry now. - I-I didn't know he would...

Dipper hugged her, letting her cry as much as she wants into his vest.

- It's not your fault, Mabel. - Wendy added, taking a knee and gently patting her. - But-But it is! - Well... Kinda... - Robbie added, and received a cold, piercing stare from Wendy. - Jerks like that like to... use people. And they know that the best ones are those, who are most trusting and kind.

Mabel's sniffing stopped, as Wendy continued.

- But you know what? - Dipper spoke suddenly - I think I got an idea...

He let go of his sister rushed to the Prankster, sitting on one of the toy unicorns, tossing quarter after quarter, while two children in queue began to tear up.

- Hey, you! - Ugh, you again, twerp. What, want me to reveal more secrets about you and your stupid hobbies? Or, like, who is your biggest crush after a toy plushie from the 90s?

Dipper's face reddened, but he remained unperturbed.

- We're not done yet. Tomorrow we're gonna prank you for good. Double or nothing! - Ugh, sure, fine. - the Prankster didn't even look at him - It's not like I can do anything until my lawyers clean up the whole "gender reveal party" fiasco. Like, who cares if the whole state is now inhabitable for life?

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

By the next morning, the battleground was set. Cameras and tons of equipment surrounded the small grassy meadow in front of the Mystery Shack, where Dipper and Wendy were sitting in their chairs with their arms crossed, both wearing much more confident smiles. And the fact that Mabel was with them added them extra layer of morale.

When the clock struck 12, a mighty roar shook the place, as monster truck drove from behind the tree line, smoking and setting nearby branches on fire. The Prankster Prancer jumped out of it, and, drowned in the flashes of cameras, walked into his place.

- So, are you twerps ready for the FINAL PRANK OF YOUR LIFE? - he roared into the microphone, rolling his tongue back and forth as if he was about to eat it. - Nah, we're not gonna prank you. - Wendy shrugged - But someone else will.

The newly reinstalled door to the Mystery Shack opened, and a new figure appeared. An elderly woman walked out, being led by Grunkle Stan that gallantly helped her, for once not sneaking his hand into her purse.

And when she looked up from behind her glasses, the confident smile on Prancer's face disappeared at once.

- Grandma?! What-What are you doing here?! - Oh, don't you know? - Grunkle Stan rushed with explanation - We, old folks, all know each other. And I simply couldn't let her miss her grandson's grand day! - I'm so glad I can see you, Archibald!

The elderly lady used her cane to hook him by his neck and brought him into his arms, despite his best efforts to avoid any interactions.

- G-Grandma, don't- don't call me that! - Why not? - she continued, seemingly ignoring her grandson efforts to escape her tight hug. - I am your grandma, and I will call you by your full name, Archibald Roderick Sebastian Eugene!

Somewhere behind them, Dipper, Wendy and Mabel were having the time of their life, trying to hide their laughter.

- So, wait, his initials literally make him an... - Grandma! Make them stop! They-they are laughing at me! - Nonsense! Those young folks told me all your fans would love to see me talk about you. So I've send them some photos via the eclectic mail!

The blonde man looked to the side at Wendy and Dipper's faces. Their wide smiles told him everything, and in the act of ultimate desperation, he gently shook his head, silently mouthing his plea. He then looked at Mabel's, but hers was filled with spite.

In response, Mabel simply pressed a button.

The enormous screen behind them lit up, showing an adorable newborn blonde boy in diaper, giggling at the baby rattle.

Several more followed, showing his equally naked body in progressively embarrassing positions.

The screen changed, and the same boy was now three-years old, wearing a strict haircut as well as a bowtie. And the worst part was, he looked happy.

The Prankster Prancer fell to his knees, as tears began rolling from his eyes, which his grandma quickly dried with her handkerchief.

- Oh, yes, I do tear up a little at this one too. Oh, but the next one makes me so proud!

Prancer's eyes widen, if possibly even more, and throwing away all the pretence, he rushed to Wendy and Dipper and began begging them for mercy. But it was for nothing. He knew they have seen the photo already.

And with another press of a button, a seven-year old Prancer was shown, wearing a blue cardigan, sitting in an armchair with a big book in his hands, smiling at the camera, proudly showing his braces.

The scanned photo displayed a title, written in crayon over it.

"I love school!"

Flocks of birds flew into the air from the nearby trees in response to the shriek that reverberated the air, full of remorse, despair, and unmistakably, defeat.

- Nooooo!

The Prancer hit the ground with his fists, for which he was quickly reprimanded by his grandma ("You're going to make them dirty!"), while Wendy and Dipper high-fived each other, before giving Mabel a warm hug.

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

- So I guess that will teach him? - Dipper asked Wendy as the two lay on the sofa, flicking through the channels again. - Pfh. I wish it did. - Wendy reached for her phone and showed Dipper a familiar blonde man waving his arms uncontrollably. - "What's up Prankster Pros? It's ya boy, and I've got this sweet book deal full of my MOST EMBARASSING photos! Look at that baby bottom! Only for $99.99..." - Geez, I guess they never learn. - Nope. But at least he's not here...

For a while the room dimmed every few seconds, as Wendy searched for anything interesting, but something else was on Dipper's mind.

- So... about those Cuddle Buddies...

The remote fell out of Wendy's hand.

- Uh, yeah, so, I just...

She shied away and mumbled her answer, until she saw a polite smile on Dipper's face.

- So, like, remember ever since you wanted to win that Duck Panda for me? I... kinda got into them, you know. Not like, obsessively collecting them, but... you know. - Yeah, I do. For cuddling.

The two looked at each other and exchanged the same, warm smiles.

- So which generation you like the most? - Well, gen 2 obviously - she rolled her eyes - What? Five is the best. - The best as sucking, perhaps. - Come on, they had changed the lead designer and everything, but they're still Cuddle Buddies...

For quite a while, the channel stayed on, as neither of them bother to change it. And when the night fell on, Wendy and Dipper realised that they might have discovered something new to talk about.

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 16

A/N: Y’all this chapter is TEN THOUSAND WORDS DON’T EVEN @ ME YOU’RE WELCOME AND *STANLEY TUCCI VOICE* GIRD YOUR LOINS

January 9th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was going to go insane.  

This was, perhaps, going to be the busiest day of her life thus far.  This morning was the outdoor practice in Nathan Phillips Square.  She and Peter were responsible for co-ordinating the photographers, videographers, and the team to get down to Nathan Phillips Square.  Once there, Aberdeen was responsible for helping to manage every single every single member of the media who were attending and covering the event, as well as Mayor John Tory and all the wives and girlfriends in attendance.  And though she had the afternoon off to get ready, tonight was the Night With the Blue and White, the organization’s biggest and most important event of the season.  She’d been studying the guest list for weeks, making sure Brendan would know – or at least pretend to know, thanks to her – every guest in attendance, and Peter was doing the same thing for Kyle.  She’d even bought a new dress and shoes for the occasion – fancier than anything she’d ever bought.  She knew that a lot of important and influential people would be there donating their money to the MLSE Launchpad initiatives around the city.  They were even hosting a grade three class of one of the schools who benefitted from the programs.  It was going to be busy, but hopefully fun.

There were cameras everywhere.  Aberdeen knew she’d probably get caught on a few of them, news ones or otherwise, but today, she didn’t care.  There were more important things on her mind.  Brendan was expecting a lot from her, and she knew she had to deliver.  She knew she could deliver.

When she had everything she needed from the office, she made her way down to the locker room.  She entered quietly as she saw all the guys in their long johns and extra base layers, listening to Keefe and Hakstol as they explained how the outdoor practice was going to be organized into teams and tournaments and points.  The energy from the guys was palpable and she could feel it within herself, too.  Cameras were already filming.  She saw William, already with his balaclava on, flash a peace sign to the camera pointed at him.  

When the guys began to put on their gear, she watched Brendan make his way across the room.  He was already wearing his peacoat and scarf.  “You ready?” he asked.

“As ready as I can be,” she smiled.

“Here, wear this,” he said, handing her a knit Leafs toque, the same one all the guys were wearing as well.  “You’re gonna need it.  It’s freezing out there.”

Aberdeen put the hat on as Brendan held her clipboard for her.  After adjusting it, she looked up at him.  “How do I look?”

If this was William asking the question to her, she would have come up with some smart aleck remark – a Costco hot dog or a bottle of Tums in assorted berries flavour.  But because it was Brendan, he said something much nicer.  “Like you’re a member of the Toronto Maple Leafs,” he smiled.  It almost made her swoon.  “Now let’s get this party started, shall we?”

***

“Devon!  Devon!  Your slot is up to interview John as he’s walking.  You cameraman is ready to go live in ten.”

“Carrie, stick with Travis for now.  Goat?  Where’s Goat?  We need him for the French interview.”

“Gerry, you can interview Kyle now, but you only have two minutes.”

Aberdeen was practically skipping to keep up with all the players and media walking through the Toronto streets as they made their way to a full Nathan Phillips Square.  She didn’t have long strides like these hockey boys did with her short little legs.  She noticed all the interviewers being where they needed to be to go live and let out a sigh of relief.  Walking through the streets of Toronto, going on the subway, and having fans, constructions workers, commuters, and more stop the guys left, right and centre for autographs and pictures and selfies was one thing, but once they got to the actual square, with all the media, it was going to be mayhem.  

And she needed to make sure they had Tim Horton’s cups around.

All the guys filed into the square, high fiving the waiting fans who were now screaming at their arrival before they went to the bench and started to put on their skates.  Once they were all there and accounted for (Aberdeen honestly felt like she was on a school trip; she didn’t know how her mother did this with six year olds when she could barely corral a bunch of grown men), she made her way towards where the media was waiting.  Peter was already there.

“Okay everyone!” he screamed out.  Nobody heard him.  “Everyone!” he screamed out again, louder this time, but still nobody heard him.  “Journalists!” he tried one more time.

“HEY!!!!!” Aberdeen screamed at the top of her lungs.  Every journalist and cameraperson there turned silent and looked her way.  Peter looked at her in shock, not knowing she was capable of such a volume.  “Alright!  Listen up!  You each have a designated station to place your cameras.  You are to stay in your station throughout the practice and not encroach on the space of the others!  Journalists and videographers, you’re following Peter who will lead you to your stations, where you are to remain until practice is finished, where you will then go into the media scrum!  Photographers, you are going to follow me and I will lead you to your stations.  Is everybody clear?!”

Everyone nodded their heads and divided themselves easily, with Aberdeen leading the photographers one way and Peter leading the journalists and videographers another.  When she got back to her original spot, that’s when she saw John Tory.  “Mr. Mayor!  Hello!  I’m Aberdeen Bloom, Brendan Shanahan’s executive assistant,” she smiled and shook his hand.  She noticed he was wearing a Leafs varsity jacket.  “Follow me, sir.  You get the sweet spot behind the bench.”

“You know, I look forward to this event every year,” he made small talk with her as they began walking.  “Did you say you were Brendan’s personal assistant?”

“Yes sir.  Although after getting the team on the subway and over here, I feel like I’m herding cats,” she joked.

John Tory laughed.  He’d laughed at a dumb joke she made.  Her dad would be so proud of her.  He’d probably brag at the next dinner party he and Orla had.  “You’re very lucky, Aberdeen.  I bet a million people would kill for your job.”

“I agree, sir.” Aberdeen tapped Brendan’s shoulder to get him to turn around.  “Mr. Mayor, Mr. Shanahan, I’m sure you’re well acquainted.”

The two men shook hands.  Brendan focused his attention quickly on Aberdeen.  “Would you mind meeting Jennifer Spezza and waiting for the others?”

Aberdeen nodded, leaving the mayor with him as she went back to the entrance, near the stairs to the subway.  Once there, she saw Jennifer waiting patiently.  Jennifer smiled once she saw Aberdeen, and extended her arms to hug her.  “It’s always nice to see you, Aberdeen,” she smiled.

“You too, Jen.”

“A bunch of the girls are coming together – Emma, Kat, Steph, Audrey, Saylor, and Alexis are coming together and should be here any second.  Aryne, Bee, and Alannah are running a bit late because of Jace, but only by like five minutes,” Jennifer informed her.  

“Okay, great.  We’ll wait till everyone gets here and then I’ll bring everyone over,” Aberdeen nodded her head.  

“How’s the day been so far?”

Aberdeen shrugged.  “Hectic, but fine.”

“Have you breathed?” Jen joked.

Aberdeen giggled.  “Barely.”

Only moments later, Kat was running up the stairs with Niylah on a harness and leash, and Emma carried Ralph in her arms.  Aberdeen pet the dogs until Aryne, Bee, and Alannah showed up.  Aberdeen led them all to their designated area, and stayed with them as the practice happened.  She liked them – they were a nice group of women, and although Aberdeen was never inserted into any supposed drama she may have heard rumblings about, she was sure they were all good people.  Once they were all there, Aberdeen knew her jobs for the day were done, and that she could breathe again.  Unless Brendan called her to do anything else, she was free.  

“Aberdeen, are we going to see you tonight?” Bee asked as the girls sipped on the complimentary hot chocolate provided for them.

“You bet,” she smiled.

“Oooooooh!” Jen smiled from beside Bee, hopping excitedly.  “What are you wearing?!”

“Oh, you’ll see,” Aberdeen winked.

“What colour is it?” Bee asked.

“Green.”

“Oooooooooooooh,” both women cooed as they made eyes with each other and then Aberdeen.  “You’re gonna knock all of us dead, Aberdeen.  You always look so stylish around the SBA.”

“I don’t think so,” she shook her head nervously.  “You guys are all way too glam for me.”

“Can I get a hot dog pleeeeease?” William’s loud, playful voice interrupted as he skated towards the entrance of the bench where all the girls were.  He shot the girls one of his signature smiles before one of the equipment guys laughed and shook his head as he called behind him for another hot dog.  He was handed one promptly, handing it to William who proceeded to stuff half of it into his mouth in one go.  

Aberdeen shook her head.  Now he was just being obnoxious.

***

“William’s jaw is going to hit the floor, Aberdeen,” Kasha mused as she took some last minute pictures of Aberdeen in her full look.  She’d been hyping Aberdeen up for the last ten minutes as she snapped pictures of her in their apartment – pictures that would no doubt be on Instagram later that evening, pending some light editing and filter choice – even though she should have left for Evan’s place five minutes ago, choosing to spend the night with him so she didn’t have to spend it alone.  

“Shut up.”

“The floooooooor!”

Okay, maybe Kasha was right.  Aberdeen looked good, and she knew she looked good.  She had on her new green chiffon dress, perfect for the occasion: ruched top, draped across her shoulders; triangle mesh cut-out on the bodice; pleated chiffon skirt dropping down to the floor.  Nude strappy hells.  Matching nude clutch.  The evil eye ring Willy got her was the only piece of jewelry she wore.  She gotten her hair professionally done at a salon: smooth and silky old Hollywood style waves with a centre part, held back by a fashionable and trendy velvet headband pinned in place so absolutely nothing would budge.  Even her makeup was flawless: dewy skin, a neutral eye with lashes and liner, and Charlotte Tilbury’s ‘Walk of Shame’ on her lips.  She was a vision.  She was owning every inch of her look.

Too bad she had to work tonight.

“Okay, I think my Uber is here,” Aberdeen said as she saw the notification on her phone screen.

“One more!  One more!” Kasha yelled before Aberdeen posed one last time and Kasha took a burst of photos.  “Okay, have a great night.  Knock Willy dead—”

“—This isn’t about Will—”

“—Knock Willy dead, be fun, and stay safe,” Kasha ended.  “You’re going to rock it, Aberdeen.  And don’t forget to network!”

The Uber dropped her off about six cars down from the entrance to the Royal York Hotel – it was already busy with a bunch of arrivals, but she knew Brendan wouldn’t be there for at least another ten or fifteen minutes.  Once she checked her coat in, she looked around, and Peter’s face was the first one she saw.

“Oh…oh my God, Aberdeen.  You look so chic,” Peter smiled, looking over her outfit.  

“Oh, thanks Peter,” she smiled back.  “You look quite dapper yourself.  We clean up pretty nice, don’t you think?”

“I’d say,” he quipped.  “Gotta make sure all these new suits fit before I go to the All-Star Game.”

Peter had been talking about the All-Star Game since at least Christmas.  It was the event he looked forward to the most all season, even more than this, because of all the people he was able to meet and network with.  This year, it was being hosted in St. Louis, and he, Brendan, and Kyle were going down together.  She’d have at least eight days off during that time period.  She was basically counting down the days.  “Well, wear this one.  You look good.”

“You want some champagne before our bosses get here?” he asked, already flagging down one of the waitresses.  He took two flutes off the tray and handed one to Aberdeen.  “To the dream job,” he said, raising the glass slightly.

Aberdeen smirked.  “To the dream job.”

They both drank the champagne all in one go.  Aberdeen loved champagne, and of course this was the good champagne – so she almost immediately wanted another.  When another waiter came by, they placed their empty glasses on his tray.  Peter left to go to the washroom quickly before Kyle got there.  Aberdeen was left alone.

That’s when she saw William.

He was in a suit, of course – a black, three-piece corduroy suit with a white shirt and black skinny tie – and his hair was tied back in a half ponytail like a European soccer player.  He’d trimmed his beard since that morning at the outdoor practice for a much more polished look – still stubbly and a bit scruffy (just how she liked him…fuck) but presentable and respectable.  Appropriate for a gala full of rich people.  He looked great.  The suit fit him perfectly.  His hair was shiny as hell – probably shinier than hers.  He stood confidently.

And then he saw her.  

His jaw dropped.  Literally dropped.  And when he finally realized it had dropped he brought his hand up to cover it, barely, his smile from ear to ear peeking through the weak attempt.  She hated to admit it, but she loved having that effect on him – she loved having that visible effect on him, one that made his jaw drop uncontrollably.  She mentally prepared herself as he began to walk over to her.  She knew she had to keep it cool.  If he made her weak at the knees barely five minutes into her attendance at the event, she’d be a goner.  

“Hey Will,” she smiled, a twinkle in her eye that dared him to give her another up-down.

“Aberdeen…I…” he paused, unable to find the words.  He even shook his head.  “You…I…wow!” he giggled out.  She really left him unable to form a cohesive sentence.  But she waited it out, not saying anything until he said something.  She wanted to make him suffer, if only a little bit.  “You look beautiful, minskatt,” he finally said, four cohesive words in a row that made sense.

“Thanks, Will.”

“I mean…you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen on any day, but this…” he said, licking his lips.  “I don’t know how I’ll be able to control myself all night.”

Aberdeen tried finding any hint of lie in what he was saying, but she couldn’t.  He was too bashful and it was all coming out so sincerely – he really didn’t have the words.  “I think it helps we’re seated at different tables.”

“Just means the desire will grow until the end of the night,” he said.  “So long as I get to look at you all night, I’ll consider myself a lucky guy.”

She was blushing at this point, and it wasn’t because of him blatant flirting – he was used to that.  She was blushing more about the fact that he meant every word, that every word was so sincere in his tone, that she could see how much she was really affecting him.  “You flatter me too much, Will.”

“You deserve it, minskatt.  You’re stunning.  The most beautiful girl in the room.  But how do I look?”

With nobody around, nobody to hear and nobody to record a witty remark, she smiled slightly.  “You’re the most handsome man in the room.”

Before she could say anything else, Peter came back.  And when Peter came back, William played it cool, and made some small talk before walking off, but as he walked off, he shot Aberdeen a look that followed her around the room.  Wherever he was standing, whoever he was talking to – William was always staring at her, giving her that look, and it sent shivers down her spine as she tried to keep up a conversation with Peter.

Brendan and Catherine finally arrived, along with Kyle and Shannon, and Peter and Aberdeen got to work.  Standing discreetly behind them at all times, they whispered the names of all the attendees who approached them throughout the party, starting in the foyer and moving into the Canadian room – the massive ballroom where everything would be taking place.  And there were a lot of guests.  With over 1000 people in attendance, Aberdeen and Peter needed to know…well, probably around three hundred of them.  She’d been studying for weeks.

“That’s Brian J. Porter, the President and CEO of Scotiabank.”

“Wendy Freeman, the president of CTV News.”

“That’s Gary Doncaster, of the law firm Doncaster, Perlman, and Dobbes.”

Brendan played it cool the entire time.  After Kyle and Peter had separated from them for a bit, they rejoined each other.  From practically across the room, she saw William sipping on a glass of water, watching her intently.  He set it down at what she presumed to be his table.  She tried to focus on the job at hand.  

“Peter?” she heard Kyle say suddenly, in a nervous voice.  Someone and his wife were waving at him and Brendan, slowly making their way towards them, and Kyle clearly needed to know who they were.  

“Oh!  Um…oh my God,” Peter began, panicking.  “I just – I can’t remember what his name is.  I—I just saw his name this morning on the list.”

Aberdeen began panicking too now.  She tried to urge Peter to figure it out, but he couldn’t get it.  “It’s…oh, I know this!  It’s something to do with…wait, he was…he was part of the…oh God!  I know this.  Um…”

The man and his wife were dangerously close.  Aberdeen swooped in behind Kyle.  “That’s Malcolm Mercer, the Chair of the Government and Public Affairs Committee of the Law Society of Ontario, and that’s the woman he left his wife for, Rebecca.”

Aberdeen even surprised herself with that.  She watched as Kyle politely greeted Rebecca first before shaking hands with Malcolm, starting some small talk with them.  She looked over at Peter, who was already looking at her.  “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“I got you,” she nodded.

***

Brendan, Catherine, and Aberdeen were seated with Ron MacLean from Hockey Night in Canada, and an array of other guests who had paid top dollar to sit with the President of the Toronto Maple Leafs, one of whom was just a solidly rude aging man on his own personal power trip.  Thankfully, he wasn’t seated next to her, or Brendan for that matter, but she could still hear him: the stiff comments, the complaints.  Clearly, he only cared about sitting at this specific table.  Aberdeen would have to make sure that if he attended next year, he was nowhere near Brendan.

There was a traditional Indigenous land acknowledgement at the beginning – the rude man rolled his eyes, which made Aberdeen want to kill him right then and there – followed by a speech made by Brendan – the rude man was on his phone for half of it, not bothering to listen to Brendan’s words of inspiration and gratitude to everyone who donated for the cause.  When Brendan got back to the table, Christine Simpson came out, ushering in the grade three class onto the stage, the students all dressed up and walking in a straight line.  They waved at their parents who were at their own tables, jumping and jiggling excitedly as little kids did.  Aberdeen thought it was the cutest thing.  Christine interviewed some of the students, asking them about school, hockey, meeting the Leafs, and about the integrated classroom and nutrition program at their school – key parts of the MLSE Launchpad initiative.  The crowd was as enamoured with them as Aberdeen was.  A part of her wished it could just be the kids talking all night.  

When their interview was over, the kids waved goodbye to the crowd before the DJ began to play them off stage.  The opening notes of ‘Uptown Funk’ by Bruno Mars began playing, and the kids went crazy.  They stopped walking off stage.  They looked around to try to find where the music was coming from, but soon enough, a lot of the kids began to dance – shimmying from side to side, pumping their hands in the air, and twirling on one foot attempting pirouettes.  Christine was trying her best, but they weren’t moving.  

“Can someone get the kids off the stage so we can get a move on?” the rude man commented loudly, so loud Aberdeen could hear him above the music.  She was incensed by his comment, her blood boiling.  How dare he.  How dare he say something when this entire event was for charity – was for these kids on stage!  

So she took matters into her own hands.

She made a point to push her chair back as dramatically as possible, shaking the place settings on the table with the force of her hands.  Everybody at the table looked at her as she rose from her seat and began making her way towards the stage.  As she pulled the skirt of her dress up so she wouldn’t trip up the stairs, she made eye contact with one of the kids.  And instead of shuffling him towards the back, instead of helping Christine, who had hall but given up, she extended her arms and grabbed the little boy’s hands in hers and began dancing with him.  She was dancing on stage in front of over a thousand people with an eight year old.  And she wasn’t embarrassed one bit.  

As she danced, she watched as William began to make his way up to the stage from the opposite end, rushing up exactly like she had and extending his arms to begin dancing with another student, a girl, twirling her around.  Then she saw Bee McTavish, Morgan Rielly, and Jennifer and Jason Spezza, all at once, rush towards the stage too, laughing and dancing with the kids.  Before she knew it, the entire team was up there, as were their significant others, dancing with the kids and each other to Uptown Funk for the entire duration of the song.  Aryne and John, Saylor and Kasperi – they were all there.  As she danced, she made eye contact with William, who was already looking at her, a smile spread out on his face from ear to ear.  Jennifer gave her a double thumbs up.  Bee was laughing at Morgan’s horrible dancing, but the kid he was dancing with was absolutely loving it and mimicking every move.  

She barely noticed the crowd cheering and clapping along to the beat until the end of the song when there was a round of applause.  The kids finally got their cue and began heading offstage.  A few of them had to finish bowing before the audience, but once they were all gone, the team left the stage too, giant smiles on all their faces.  When Aberdeen returned to the table, she saw the rude man staring at her indignantly.  Meanwhile, Brendan was beaming.  

“Thank you for that,” he said as she took her seat beside him.  Even Catherine was smiling.  

“You’re not mad I did that?”

“Are you kidding?” he asked.  “That’s been the highlight of the night so far.  It’ll probably stay the highlight of the night.”

Aberdeen smiled.  “I had to do something to get that guy at the other end to shut up,” she whispered.

“Oh, I know, believe me.”

The night went on with its regularly scheduled events.  There was an interview portion with the big four European players – Andreas, Freddie, Will, and Kappy – in between the dinner courses.  There was a Q&A with Jason and Zach as well, and the highlight of the night, which was a game of Family Feud with the Leafs Legends – Darcy Tucker, Curtis Joseph, Daryl Sittler, Wendel Clark, and Doug Gilmour – and some of the current Leafs – John, Morgan, Auston, Mitch, and Tyson.  It was hilarious.  Aberdeen teared up at one point because she was laughing so hard.  

After dinner there was a lot of mingling – a lot of meeting new people and speaking about her position because everybody was just so interested about what Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant did all day – and a lot of…well, staring.  William caught her eye around the room.  Wherever he was, wherever she was, whoever he was speaking to, whoever she was speaking to, whenever she even so much as just glanced his way, he was already looking, and whenever he so much as glanced her way, she was already looking.  He was true to his word in that he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her, that as long as he got to stare at her all night he’d consider himself a lucky man, because all he seemed to be doing was staring at her.  And as the night progressed, he got closer and closer, eventually ending up in her circle, and although the guests were delighted to see William Nylander, she was nervous but excited to see Will, Willy, the guy that so obviously couldn’t keep himself away from her.  

When the guests left, they were left alone.  Aberdeen gulped.  William looked pained.  “I can’t take it anymore,” he said, only loud enough for her to hear, despite there being no-one around them.  Brendan was on the other side of the room.

“Can’t take what?”

“You.  In that dress,” he clarified.  “You have no idea how good you look.  Every time I look at you, I just…you—you know how I feel about you, minskatt.”

When that nickname escaped her lips, tied together with the look on his face and the sparkle in his eye, Aberdeen almost melted right then and there.  “Will—”

“Can we get out of here?”

“No, Will,” she giggled.  Any other moment in time she would have scolded him for making the suggestion, but at this point she didn’t care.  “I’m technically still working.”

“Then let me get you a drink,” he offered.  “And let me take you home.  Please let me take you home after everything is done.  I’m desperate here.”

“Desperate?” she decided to play with him.  “Why?”

“Because of you.  Because you walk in here looking like that and you expect me to control myself?  All I’ve wanted to do all night is be next to you.  All I’ve wanted to do is be with you, be anywhere near you.  And it’s torture.  Torture that I can’t talk to you the way I want to talk to you.  Torture that I can’t touch you like I want to touch you.”

A shiver ran up her spine.  “You’re getting into inappropriate territory again, Will.”

“And I’ll say it again: can’t you tell by now that I don’t care that it’s inappropriate?”

The last time he’d said that to her, she replied with “And can’t you see that I do care?”  But she didn’t care anymore.  She honestly didn’t.  After what happened on Christmas (besides the fact that she was still wearing the ring – she hadn’t taken it off since) and on New Year’s, she knew that they had both ventured on to the inappropriate territory equally.  It was no longer just his fault, or the fault of his persistence.  They were equally to blame here.  She downed the last of her drink.  “I like it.”

He had a confused look on his face.  “You like what?”

“I like that you’re being inappropriate.”

Aberdeen couldn’t describe the smile that took over his face upon him hearing those words.  They were six words that told him everything he needed to know.  “Aberdeen, you can’t just say stuff like that and expect me to react normally,” he said, throwing her own words that she’d said to him so many times back at her.

“Maybe I don’t want you to react normally.”

“Aberdeen!  William!”

They looked to their side to see Bee McTavish approaching them.  Aberdeen could tell William hated the interruption, but because it was Bee, he softened.  “We’re gonna do some shots.  Want some shots?”

The first shot was tequila.  The second was a B-52, and Brendan even joined in.  Aberdeen could feel herself getting more giggly with each millilitre of alcohol that went into her system.  Giggly about the event.  Giggly that she was taking shots with the Toronto Maple Leafs.  

Giggly about William.

***

“Just one stop at Nelson Street, please,” William said to the Uber driver as he slipped into the car after Aberdeen.  Brendan, Catherine, Kyle, and Shannon had left the party early, so they weren’t able to see William confirming with Aberdeen that he could take her home, and they weren’t able to see him calling an Uber, and him grabbing their coats, and him leading Aberdeen to the much quieter side of the Fairmont Royal York for the Uber to pick them up so he could touch her waist and hold her hand and get close to her – closer than what was necessary – on a cold winter’s night while the rest of the guest list waited at the front of the hotel for cabs and Ubers.  “I know it’s a short ride, but I’ll give you a big tip.”

He was holding Aberdeen’s hand.

“Do you still have all those songs I downloaded for you?” Aberdeen asked as the driver started moving.

William thought it to be a random question.  “Of course I do.  Why would I delete them?”

“I have a new song you need to add,” she said.

He smiled.  “I added a song I heard on the radio that made me think of you,” he began to pull out his phone.

“Which one?”

He searched for the playlist in his Spotify, the former ‘Driving in Toronto at Night’ playlist he’d renamed to ‘Minskatt’.  He scrolled down to the bottom of the list before he found it.  He turned the volume on his phone all the way up before the opening notes of ‘Adore You’ by Harry Styles began playing.  He’d heard it all over the radio since December, and not only did the beat and rhythm reminds him of the type of music Aberdeen liked and put on the playlist, but when he actually listened to the lyrics, he knew he had to add it.

Aberdeen’s jaw dropped and a smile overtook her face.  “This is it.”

“What’s it?”

“This was the song I was just going to add.”

William smiled.  “Does that mean I have superior music taste now?” he joked.

Aberdeen giggled.  “You’re working on it.”

She began to sing, and William had never heard anything sweeter.  She was louder than when she half-mumbled, half-sang ‘Style’ by Taylor Swift in the passenger’s seat of his car when they were driving on the Gardiner into the downtown core.  Perhaps the shots had gotten to her, but they were so long ago and he was unconvinced.  More than anything, he just hoped her walls had finally crumbled, that she felt like she could be uninhibited in front of him like he always wanted her to be.  No degree of formality of being a hockey player and a personal assistant for that hockey player’s boss – instead, being just two kids in their early 20s falling for each other like they had six months ago when she wouldn’t shut up about her graduation or her writing or her favourite books and he couldn’t stop listening to her.

William didn’t know the lyrics off by heart like she did, but he was able to contribute certain lines he remembered.  Certain lines that would hammer a message home.  

I get so lost inside your eyes Would you believe it?

He looked at her when he sang them out loud, and she looked at him when she sang them out too, albeit more emphatically and with more swaying and dramatic hand motions.  It was like they were admitting to each other what they were really thinking; what they couldn’t say to each other in the presence of other people, but what they could say to each other alone in hotel rooms in the middle of the night or in the backs of Ubers after parties.

Honey I’d walk through fire for you Just let me adore you Like it’s the only thing I’ll ever do

Aberdeen bit her lip after they sang the chorus to each other.  She couldn’t believe they were doing this.  She couldn’t believe how quickly her walls had fallen.  She’d spent two months trying to forget him and four months trying to keep him at bay, only for the last three weeks to make all of that obsolete.  “Willy?” she asked, her voice sweet as the second verse began to play.

“Minskatt?” he prepared himself.

“I can’t believe you added Harry Styles on your own free will.”

William snorted.  This was why he was so enamoured with her.  “I can’t believe you think I wouldn’t.”

They arrived at her building, getting out of the car and slipping through the front doors, nodding politely at the concierge before walking to the elevator.  As they waited for it to come down, Aberdeen lay her head on William’s shoulder.  “My feet are fucking killing me,” she whispered.

“Are they?”

“They’re, like, pounding,” she said.  “They’re pretty to look at but fuck they hurt.”

Before she could realize what was happening, William had scooped her up in his arms, shifting to carry her bridal style as the elevator pinged to signal its arrival.  “What are you doing?” she laughed out.

“Being a knight in shining armour, clearly,” he smiled.  He felt Aberdeen wrap her arm around the back of his shoulders as he stepped into the elevator.  Aberdeen pressed her phone number.  “Better?”

“Much.”

“Why do you girls even wear shoes like that if they hurt so much?”

She snorted.  “You tell me.  Men wore heels first,” she informed him.

“We did?!”

She nodded.  “Apparently you guys wanted to show off your wealth and calves more than we did at first.”

William laughed in his signature way.  “I do have some nice calves.”

When the elevator brought them up to Aberdeen’s floor, she rummaged through her clutch to find her keys, sticking them in the door to open in.  Luckily, they could be as loud as they wanted since Kasha was spending the night at Evan’s; it prompted Aberdeen to hook her finger into the strap at the heel and throw off her shoes.  William kicked off his shoes and walked through her apartment, carrying her to her bedroom.  It was maybe a bold move, to go straight there, but he didn’t care.

“Wanna see me rip my eyelashes off?” she giggled as he finally set her down on the floor of her bedroom.  

“Your eyelashes?!”

“The fake ones,” she mumbled, just going for it.  She saw a horrified look on William’s face, causing her to burst out into a fit of giggles.  She threw the first one in the garbage before taking off the second, William still watching with a horrified look on his face.  “What?” she smiled.

“That doesn’t hurt?” he asked.

“You get used to it,” she shrugged.  “You know what they say Will.  Beauty is pain.”

“My beauty doesn’t require pain.”

Aberdeen burst out laughing, William following with his signature giggle.  She couldn’t control her laughing as she leaned her head against his chest, shaking it slightly before bringing it back up to look at him.  “You’re literally the worst, Will.  No other guy on the team would say something like that.”

“No other guy on the team is as beautiful as I am.”

His tone made it come out like a joke, but Aberdeen couldn’t help but thinking he was right.  There wasn’t another guy on the team as good-looking as he was.  She huffed out a laugh, turning around so her back was towards him.  “Can you unzip me?”

It was a suggestive request, and she knew it.  He unzipped her dress slowly as she pulled her hair out of the way for him.  They were both still giggling as she felt the material of the dress become looser, and she was careful when he was finished to step out of it gently so she didn’t mess up the fabric or dirty it on the floor of her bedroom.  She immediately brought it towards the hanger she’d left on her dresser, making sure to hang it in her closet neatly before turning back towards Will.  It was only then that she realized she was in her underwear in front of him, the most exposed she’d ever been since…well…

She watched as he practically ripped off his tie; watched as he unbuttoned his shirt without a care in the world.  His suit was probably custom made and tailored and cost over a thousand dollars but he didn’t even care.  What was more alarming was that he was stripping and making himself comfortable in her bedroom.  “Will—”

“You can change.  I’ll look away,” he said, turning her back towards her automatically.  

That wasn’t even what she wanted, but damnit, he was good.  She unclasped her bra and threw on her top quickly before stepping into her pajama shorts.  “Um, I have to go wash my makeup off,” she whispered.

She didn’t wait for a reply as she stepped across the hallway into her bathroom.  As she washed all of her makeup off, the seriousness of the situation crept up on her.  William was in her apartment.  He was in her bedroom.  He was undressing.  She knew he’d been in there before, that if he stayed over it wouldn’t even be the first time he’d slept in her bed, but it was still a big deal.  It was still something that, really, truly, shouldn’t be happening in every sense of the word.  But it was.  And neither of them was going to put a stop to it.    

When she stepped back into her room, closing her door behind her, she saw William waiting for her to get into bed.  He had nothing on besides his boxer-briefs.  She knew that if they both got in there, there’d be no room.  They’d be squished against each other.  She knew this because it had happened before – the night they hooked up, and then the night after what Ethan did to her – it was the same situation.  Standing now, in her room, looking between the bed and William, things felt…different.  

She climbed into bed, liking to be on the side closest to the wall, anyway.  William followed her, even going so far as to start to pull the covers over their bodies as he snuggled in next to her.  “Will—”

“Shhhhhh,” he cooed.  “Aberdeen, stop freaking out.”

“But Willy—”

“I just want to lie down.  We’re just lying down,” he said, his voice sleepy.  He pulled her against him.  She let him.  He nestled his head onto her chest, under her chin and above her breasts.  She let him.  She could feel the contented sigh he let out as he settled into her, as her body relaxed into his, as she began running her fingers through his beautiful blonde hair.  He let her.

“Will?” her voice was soft.

“Mhm?”

“You – I – you—”

“Spit it out, Aberdeen.”

“You could have any girl in the city, Willy,” she blurted out.  She immediately regretted it.  “Any girl in the city.  W…Why do you keep – I mean, why are you here with m—”

“Because I only like you, Aberdeen,” his voice was so soft, sleepy, tender.  The most tender she’d ever heard it.  “You still don’t understand?”  

Aberdeen hesitated.  “I guess not.”

“Well…I like you,” he stressed his sentiment again.

“But why?”

“Because you make me nervous.  And nobody makes me nervous,” he said softly.  “And because I like talking to you.  And I don’t like talking to anyone.”

There was nothing more she could say; nothing more she could do.  He always answered her question and always answered her honestly; he had never lied to her.  He had laid it all out for her and she could either take it or leave it.  

Of course she was going to take it.  

***

Aberdeen woke up slowly the next morning early.  Stupidly early, because of her natural alarm clock.  In typical fashion, because William was in bed with her and there wasn’t enough room for the both of them, Aberdeen found herself semi-on top of him, her head on his chest and hair spread out everywhere; an arm draped across his torso.  As she began to come to her senses, she took a deep breath and could smell him.  He still smelled so good.  So manly.  And then, she realized his one arm was hugging her body against his, and his other lay directly on top of hers that was draped across his body, keeping it there.

She sighed contently.  

He was so big, so snuggly, so warm.  Of all the people she’d snuggled up against in her short lifetime, William was easily the best.  His body was like her own personal heater, and in the dead of winter, it was much appreciated.  She’d always known he was big – big and thick and strong – but feeling him under her now was so much different.  She’d almost forgotten what he felt like, but she could never truly forget something like that.  

When she moved slightly, mostly to stretch, she realized one of his thighs was between her legs.  God, they were so fucking thick.  Thick and strong, just like the rest of him.  She moaned slightly, the feeling of their bare legs together really waking her up now.  Before she knew what she was doing, before her brain could tell her body not to physically react to such a specimen of a body being in such close proximity to her, she moved again, rubbing her core against his thigh.  It felt good.  Of course it felt good.  She had been denying herself the pleasure she knew William Nylander could give her for six months now (besides their kisses), and if she wasn’t dangerously close to breaking every known rule, parameter, and boundary she gave herself when she got the job, then she was now.  So close.  Dangerously close.

She rubbed her core against his thigh again.

And again.

And again.

He began to wake up, shifting slightly at the feeling of the friction of her against him.  He moaned at the feeling and rubbed his eyes before opening them, and when he did their eyes met, drowsy and barely open but still looking at one another.  “Minskatt?”

Aberdeen looked into his blue eyes.  She couldn’t hold back anymore; couldn’t deny it anymore.  

She was going to do it.

She pushed herself up slightly, coming face to face with him, and began kissing him.  No hesitation.  No uncertainty.  She knew she wanted to do it.  That she had to do it.  That kissing William was as important to her right now as breathing.  That kissing William continuously – not just one little peck, not just a standard kiss – was what she needed.  That feeling the scruff on his face along her fingers was integral to her well-being.  That grinding against his thigh again, causing him to moan in her mouth before she got on top of him and straddled him, was what she needed to survive.  

She felt his hands squeezing her thighs, trying to feel every inch of exposed skin on her body as they wandered underneath her pajama shorts, then underneath her shirt, where he took sweet time inching higher and higher towards her breasts.  He squeezed them in his hands gently, massaging them and pinching her nipples, causing her to squirm.  She knew she didn’t have an ample set to worth with, but William didn’t seem to mind.  He didn’t seem to mind because when Aberdeen grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, he looked at her exposed chest like it was the first pair of boobs he’d seen in his life.  

Aberdeen hesitated only slightly after she saw the look on his face.  “Willy?” she breathed out.

“Fuck, Aberdeen,” he whispered in some sort of apparently disbelief – a disbelief that this was actually happening.  That she was the one to kiss him.  That she was the one to take off her top.  It wasn’t even the first time he’d seen her exposed chest, but it still felt like the first time to him.

Before she knew it, he’d wrapped his arms around her and flipped her onto her back, hovering over her with his big, thick body as he kissed and licked his way down her neck and towards her breasts.  He took a nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue and making her arch her back.  She tried to catch her breath as she got used to feeling his mouth and tongue on her breasts.  He knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew exactly what to do to set her off, leaving her a writhing, moaning mess in her own bed.

Then she felt where his hand was.

She flinched at his touch on her hot core, but so desperately wanted more.  After that initial flinch, she practically grinded herself onto his hand.  “It’s so hot,” William mumbled before he kissed a trail to her other breast.  “So wet already.”

“Will—” Aberdeen could barely get out once she felt William’s tongue on her other breast.  “Will, please—”

“Is that okay?”

“Yes,” she nodded her head as he teased her some more.  “Ta—Take them off.”

He did as he was told, his mouth leaving her breast so he could sit back slightly on his knees, hook his fingers into the waistband of her shorts, and pull them off slooooowly, revealing every inch of exposed skin on her body.  He could see her chest rising and falling dramatically as he let the shorts drop on the floor.  “You okay, minskatt?”

Aberdeen nodded her head.  She leaned forward so she could kiss him again, their hands exploring each other’s bodies – William’s hands gripping her thighs or breasts or teasing her hot core some more; Aberdeen’s hands gliding along the muscles on his abs and chest and shoulders before scratching down his back to the waistband of his boxer briefs.  

She tugged on them.

“Aberdeen—”

“Condoms are in the same place,” she whispered quickly.

“Aberdeen, are you sure—”

“Yes.  Yes yes yes,” she repeated, nodding fervently.  

William opened the drawer on her bedside table, grabbing at a packet.  He ripped off the packaging and helped her push his boxers down before sitting back.  Aberdeen helped him slide it on, much like the first time.  When she lay back down, William moved to loom over her.  

William and Aberdeen looked each other in the eye as he guided himself near her entrance.  When Aberdeen could feel him, she let out a shaky, excited breath.  “Willy…”

“Yes, minskatt?”

“Go slow.”

William nodded.  He began to push himself into her, and as he did, he saw her eyes close to bask in the feeling of him filling her up.  He did the same, as it brought back all the memories from that fateful night six months ago, when they were in the exact same position as they were now.  He remembered everything so vividly, but somehow, this all felt brand new.  He remembered how good it felt, but simultaneously had never felt anything as amazing before.  

He went slow.

He could feel her nails dig into his shoulder blades and a small gasp of breath escape her as he bottomed out.  He kissed her lips and the tip of her nose and back to her lips.  “You okay?” he asked, his hair falling in between their faces.

Aberdeen nodded her head.  She bought one hand between them and pushed his hair back tenderly so she could see his face.  “Yeah,” she nodded.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” she repeated, letting out another breath as she felt him pull out slightly before pushing back in.  “I’d almost forgotten how good you feel inside me.”

“You’re perfect, Aberdeen,” he responded immediately after.  He meant it in every sense of the word, because to him, she was.  Plus, if she thought he felt good, he has some news for her about what she felt like.  “God, you’re fucking perfect.”

He dipped down to kiss her again as he began moving in and out of her slowly.  Aberdeen moved her hips in tune with his, and soon, all she felt was pleasure.  Despite what was happening, they couldn’t keep their eyes off each other, looks mixed with lust, love, desire, adoration, longing, and of course, the pining they’d been doing since that day they reunited in the elevator being exchanged between them.  It had all led to this moment, this moment of pure, built up passion.

“Willy…f…fuck,” she whispered.  “You feel so good, Willy.”

She watched as some of his hair feel in between them again, blocking his eyes.  She brought a hand to push it back tenderly.  They looked at each other for a moment before William said the words.  “I love you, Aberdeen.”

She looked for a lie in his eyes.  Any hint of a lie.  A lie she found in Zane’s eyes.  A lie she found in Corey’s eyes.  A lie she found in any other boy’s eyes that she’d known.  But she couldn’t find it.  Not even the smallest hint.  Nothing.  And because of that, and because of the moment, she said the words too.  “I love you, William.”

He kissed her, big and wet and sloppy and full of desire and want, and she kissed him back with equal amounts of desire and want, and when he began to move in and out of her quicker, and when she arched her back into his body, she knew was close, that they were both close, and that they wouldn’t last much longer.  

“Willy—”

“Aberdeen—Aberdeen I—”

“Cum with me Willy.  Cum with me.”

And they did.  It hit them all at once, the wave of pleasure as Aberdeen’s walls tightened around William’s pulsating cock, and they rode it out for as long as they could before William collapsed on top of her, the both of them catching their breath and coming back down to reality.  As they lay in her bed together, with William still inside her, the gravity of the situation didn’t need to hit them – they knew what they’d just done.  They knew it broke every boundary and was against every rule in the book.  But they didn’t care.  William didn’t care.  Aberdeen didn’t care.  All that mattered was that they shared that moment of pure bliss together.  

William rolled onto his back and took off the condom, tying it before throwing it in the garbage near her bed.  When he finished, he turned towards Aberdeen and they intertwined their limbs and bodies, drifting off to sleep again in each other’s arms.

***

The next time Aberdeen woke up, it was because she’d heard the front door slam shut and the sound of footsteps throughout the apartment.  It meant Kasha was home, which also meant it was later in the morning than when she and William had first woken up and…well…

She shuddered.

As she did, she felt William’s body beside hers in her bed, spooning her from behind.  Still naked from their rendezvous earlier, she could feel his cock against her as the hand of the arm that draped over her body cupped one of her breasts.  His face was nestled into the crook of her neck.  She didn’t want to move – she would have been perfectly content to stay in bed with him all day – but she knew they’d have to get up eventually.  And more than that, they’d have to put on clothes before they went out there.  

“Willy?” she whispered softly, hoping he’d hear.

“Hmmm minskatt?” he mumbled against her skin.  “Was that Kasha?” he asked.

“Yeah.  And probably Evan,” she said.  “We should get up.”

He peeled himself away from her body slowly, and she rolled from her side to her back so she could look up at him.  He looked down at her, still naked for him.  She smiled up at him and caressed his cheek, his stubble scratching her skin.  A piece of hair fell in front of his face, and she pushed it back, making it a habit now.  “Willy?”

“Minskatt?”

“Do you regret what happened?” she asked.

“Absolutely not.  No,” he replied automatically, shaking his head.  “Do you?”

“No,” she responded automatically as well.  “I don’t regret any of it at all,” she ran her thumb along his lips.  “But nobody can know.  We can’t tell a soul.”

William nodded his head.  In any other circumstance, if he had landed a girl as amazing as Aberdeen, he would be practically bragging to everybody about how lucky he was.  But things didn’t work out that way, and everything was complicated.  “Nobody will know,” he said in agreement.  

“No Brendan,” she began.

“That’s a given.”

“No Kappy,” she continued.

“No Kappy,” he agreed.  Kasperi didn’t even know about the first time they’d slept together, so it would be no problem.  None of the guys did.  They all thought he just had a harmless crush.  “No Kasha.”

Aberdeen bit her lip.  “No Kasha,” she nodded her head.  She knew she’d be able to make up a good story when they met each other outside her door.  She knew what she had to do next.  It would have to hurt them both.  “No Alex.”

William nodded slightly.  It would be hard not to tell his brother, but he knew he couldn’t.  It was probably one of the few secrets he would keep from Alex.  He knew he had to say the same.  “No Siena.”

Aberdeen nodded.  It would be the hardest thing she’d have to do.  “Our secret only,” she whispered.

“Our secret only,” he repeated, leaning down to give her a quick kiss.  “We can do it, minskatt.”

“I know we can,” she said, kissing him again.  It went against everything she believed in, but she didn’t care anymore.  She only had so much willpower to reject him.  Now that they’d done what they’d done, and agreed to what they agreed to, there was no going back.  She’d have to lie to the people she loved and respected most in her life.  She’d have to lie to everyone she knew – her parents, her sister, her friends, her co-workers.  

She’d have to lie to Brendan.  

They got out of bed slowly, with William putting his boxers back on and Aberdeen throwing on her pajama shorts again and a crew neck sweater.  She looked over at William and saw him searching for his dress shirt, crinkled on the floor.  She threw one of her oversized University of Toronto hoodies at him.  He laughed when he realized what it was, pulling it over his head.  It fit a bit snug, but it worked.

The second Aberdeen opened her bedroom door, she heard the shower from Kasha’s ensuite turn on.  She was happy – it gave her time to get breakfast started, to spend a little bit more of alone time with William, and to think of an excuse as to why William slept over last night.  Not like this was the first time he slept over in the past four weeks.

She still couldn’t believe what this had become.

After washing her face quickly, she and William made their way into the kitchen, Aberdeen grabbing some pancake mix out of the cupboard.  She grabbed some blueberries from the fridge too, putting them near the sink to wash them.  As she began to pour the pancake mix into a bowl, she felt William come up behind her, pressing himself against her back as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Aberdeen?” his voice was soft, and suddenly sounded very nervous.  

“Willy?”

“I meant what I said earlier,” he said.

She was confused.  “About not telling anybody?”

“No.  Earlier,” he gave her another hint.  When she didn’t respond, he knew he’d have to say it again.  “That I love you, minskatt.”

Oh.  That.  It was said so passionately during them having sex that it felt like it was part of the experience.  That it was completely natural and easy for them to say to each other, despite not officially being together, despite not even dating, despite Aberdeen trying to convince herself for months that she didn’t like him, despite William trying everything to make her realize otherwise.  

“I know it was in the heat of the moment,” his words interrupted her thoughts.  They sounded so nervous and apprehensive.  “But I meant it.  I mean…I know.  And I know that you said it back, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to.  Or if you’re not sure or whatever.  I just want you to know that.  I won’t care.  You can say it whenever you want.  I just know that I do.”

Aberdeen turned around.  She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, now wearing one of her hoodies, and stood on her tip-toes to kiss him.  She said the only words she could say to him.  The only words that, despite every boundary, despite every rule, despite every thought, despite everything she knew about herself, despite everything she thought she knew about herself, she knew were true.  

“I love you too, William.”

[nbrook29]

Sobbe, 6: Teary kiss🥺

Another anon:  1!!

As always, apologies for the long post. Until someone shares the secret with me on how to make the read more thingy work, this is how it’s going to be :(

Again, I don’t know how to write plotless prompts, hence -->

based on But do you REALLY want the K?

Teary kiss + passionate kiss

***

Robbe lets out another shaky breath trying to gain control over his emotions. 

There are people running back and forth next to them, yelling at their kids and dragging heavy suitcases on the tiled floor, rushing to get to their gate on time and yet it feels like the two of them are the only ones existing, foreheads resting against each other, hands reassuringly stroking bony hips and arms looped behind necks holding on for dear life.

They’ve been standing like this for a while, Sander swaying them a little as if to soothe the pain, both of them refusing to let go, not yet, not until that final call is announced. 

It all still feels so surreal.

He knew it was coming, obviously, but he naively thought that he managed to prepare himself for this. 

But now, when he’s faced with the cold interior of the airport at the early hour, gate number 5 looming over just around the corner, reality finally sinks in.

Five months apart.

He’s not sure how his heart is supposed to survive it.

When Sander burst into his bedroom that fateful Wednesday evening, elation in his eyes, talking a mile a minute about his project winning a scholarship, Robbe pulled him on his bed next to himself, placing congratulatory kisses all over his laughing face, calling him “His Artist” a bit teasingly but also with clear adoration easily detectable in his voice.

Once they calmed down a bit and rearranged their bodies to lie facing each other, the wide smile on Sander’s face started to slip, his hand reaching to touch Robbe’s cheek, thumb stroking under his eye as he opened and closed his mouth several times before uttering words that made Robbe’s smile slip as well.

Columbia University, New York City, five months

And then, he added in a small voice, “I don’t know what to do, Robbe.”

The selfish part of him instantly screamed at him to convince Sander, to beg him to stay, to not leave him. Not for five fucking months.

Robbe only needed five seconds to kill that thought and tell it to shut the fuck up.

His boyfriend lied there, next to him, licking his lips nervously, looking so lost and searching for an answer in his eyes, and Robbe could see he was moments away from declaring that nope, no way, he wasn’t going anywhere. 

And that was absolutely unacceptable.

Instead of saying anything, he closed the distance between them and captured his mouth in a searing kiss, hoping it conveyed that he was one hundred percent on board with the plan.

When they broke apart, he shot him a beaming smile. “I can’t wait for you to send me photos of New York street art.”

Sander looked at him with wonder in his eyes, a little unsure if he actually meant it.

“Will you really wait for me for that long?”

“You know I’ll wait for you forever.”

It’s ironic that it was Robbe who spent the last two months reassuring Sander about the trip, squashing any doubt related to their relationship that arose, convincing him that he’s going to be okay left behind. That they are going to be okay.

It’s not that big of a deal, right? Robbe was about to start college anyway, so many exciting times were coming his way. Of course he’s going to wait. He’s going to enjoy his college experience at a film school and Sander is going to conquer New York City, living his best american life, video chatting with him everyday to tell him what he’s been up to. Then, he’s going to come back and they’re finally going to rent a place together. A perfect plan.

So yeah, it’s ironic. It’s ironic because it’s actually Robbe who is a mess now.

The thought of separation hurts so badly but Sander getting a chance to go to New York to study visual arts at fucking Columbia and rejecting the offer for Robbe and their relationship has been out of the question from the start. Robbe would never forgive himself for taking that away from him.

It’s the center of the art world. He needs to go there. If he had decided not to, Robbe would have packed him and pushed him through the plane entrance himself.

“You’re breaking my heart, baby,” Sander whispers in a shaky voice as his fingers catch a runaway tear on Robbe’s cheek. 

Robbe can see that Sander is trying to be strong for both of them, as always taking care of him and his needs first and Robbe loves him so much for that that his heart is almost bursting.

But he also doesn’t want Sander to feel guilty or torn over this even for a second. This is supposed to be an adventure of a lifetime. He can’t take this away from him.

“I’m gonna be okay, don’t worry about me.” He shoots him a smile that he hopes looks convincing.

“I hate the thought of leaving you. Not being able to kiss you,” Sander connects their lips as if for emphasis, and the kiss tastes of salt, making Robbe realize that he’s not the only one getting overwhelmed.

Their bubble is brutally burst when the final call to board for Sander’s flight is announced over the speaker. 

Robbe can feel his entire body getting filled with desperation all at once at the loud voice but before he can do anything Sander pulls him even closer and kisses him, burying his fingers in his curls. The kiss is bruising from the start, frantic as Sander sweeps his tongue in deeper and Robbe makes sure he gives as good as he gets, kissing him thoroughly, hands clinging to the lapels of his leather jacket.

It doesn’t matter that they already had their main goodbye last night. That they spent all those hours lost in each other, learning each other’s body anew, alternating between sweet and loving, and fast and passionate but not any less loving. It doesn’t matter that their bodies will be marked with mouth-shaped bruises and light scratches for days. It doesn’t matter that Robbe can still feel him. 

It doesn’t matter because it wasn’t enough. It will never be enough.

It’s a good thing no one pays them any attention, everyone too busy with their own goodbyes and patting their chest all the time to make sure they have their passport, because the voice in the back of Robbe’s head tells him it’s probably not the most appropriate place for this kind of kissing.

It’s almost impossible for them to stop, to break apart but they don’t have a choice as the line to the gate keeps shortening.

“I’ll try to come home for Christmas, I promise,” Sander whispers into his mouth in between the kisses. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

“You know, I left you my beige sweater so you don’t miss me too much.” Robbe’s laugh sounds teary, his body already mourning the loss of contact when Sander puts some distance between them, bending to grab his carry-on bag before letting out a miserable sigh.

“I have to go.”

The fingers of their right hands are still entwined though, neither of them strong enough to break the touch for good. It reminds Robbe of that cloudy afternoon in front of Sander’s school where the boy graciously granted him a second chance for which he still has been grateful every day.

In the end, Sander is the one to let go first but he only does it to then cup his cheeks with both hands and place the sweetest kiss on his lips Robbe has ever gotten.

Then it’s really time to go.

Robbe forces himself to keep the smile on throughout the entire process of boarding, twisting his fingers to keep the emotions at bay. Sander barely pays any attention to the flight attendant in front of him as he hands in his passport absentmindedly, his eyes flying over Robbe’s face as if he’s trying to memorize every single detail from afar, in case he somehow missed something during all those times before.

Once he’s all clear and the woman starts checking on the last passenger, Robbe knows it’s time.

So he watches, gnawing on his bottom lip with hot tears threatening to spill any second now. He watches as the love of his life hovers a bit longer next to the gate, blowing him that last kiss, mouthing “I love you, Robin” with glassy eyes of his own before turning around and disappearing in the long jet bridge.

It is only then that Robbe allows himself to break down completely.

***

Shoutout to @painfully-oblivious @dagcutie and @gele-gordijnen for helping me with figuring out Sander’s major when my brain decided to do me dirty <3

[baroquebucky]

Italian days

request: could you write something about going to Italy with timothee? Im just imagining how cute and romantic it would be 🥺

a/n: this is so cute !!! prepare for typical tourist attractions also i have no idea where any of these things are in relation to each other so :-) i literally googled what to do in these places bc I’ve never been sorry guys:-( this ones long so strap in and get ready !!! let me know what y’all think abt it ! i kinda wanna make headcanons about this too hehe >:) I hope you all enjoy it and send me some requests 🥰

You quickly finished packing your last t shirt in the already full suitcase, putting your weight onto it so that you could zip it up fully. You were excited for the trip that timothee had planned for the two of you, giddy to finally spend some alone time with you favorite boy. “ma cherie are you almost done?” you heard timmy call out from the living room. Quickly you grabbed the final bag off the bed and scanned the room, going over a mental checklist to ensure you didn't forget anything. 

“okay i have everything, did you get everything? Do you have all the things you need? What time is it? Are we gonna be late? Oh god what if the plane leaves without us” you began to ramble, going through every worst case scenario possible. Timothee looked at you in awe, he had never seen you this nervous about anything before, he least expected it to come out right before a romantic getaway.

“angel, calm down, it’s fine let’s go to the airport we’re right on time” he smiled at you, giving you a quick kiss before he helped you with your bags and you two headed to the Uber waiting outside your shared apartment. As you helped him squeeze the luggage in you both sat in the backseat, you were so excited for the trip.

“You know we should go to Paris for our next anniversary” timmy spoke offhandedly, mindlessly playing with your hair as the movie you had chose played on the tv. “That would be fun, I’ve never been there” you smiled, looking at him briefly before your eyes settled on the screen again.

“where have you traveled to?” He questioned, curious as to all the places you’ve visited. “mmm i mean I’ve never been to Europe, i left the state a couple times for road trips but that’s about it” you replied, not thinking anything of the question. “You mean to tell me that you’ve never been to Italy?” He gasped and you laughed at his shock.

“We aren’t all stars or rich Chalamet” you suppressed laughter but one look at his facial expression caused you to burst into a fit of laughter. “That’s it im booking a flight to Italy, we can go to venice and oh we could even travel to where we filmed call me by your name! And then we could go to Rome!” He gushed, moving quickly to get his laptop.

You were excited, until you realized you had $20 in your wallet and maybe $67 in you bank account. “Timothée wait no” you spoke, rushing behind him to stop him. He turned around confused as to why you didn’t want to go.

“do you not wanna go? I thought you liked Italy? You show me videos about people going there all the time” he asked, searching your face for an answer. “I do! I’ve always wanted to go there” you stated, sighing as your gazes met. “it’s just- how am i gonna pay for my ticket? I don’t have enough money and-” before you could finish timothée cut you off.

“what makes you think you’re paying?” He grinned, running to the room to get the laptop once again. You messed with your fingers for a second, you didn’t want him to spend money on you, you’ve always felt bad about it.

“timmy no you can’t just buy me a ticket there” you spoke, walking into the room, seeing the boy sitting on the bed, legs crossed with the laptop in his lap. He furrowed his brows and replied without looking up from his screen. “Why not? You’re my girl, think of it as a present” he smiled, you opened your mouth to protest but he quickly stopped you.

“i just bought them so you can’t take it back” he beamed, you frowned for a second before he gave you the puppy eyes. Of course you couldn’t resist, you tackled him with a hug and kissed him, thanking him a million times.

And so here the two of you were, sitting in the backseat on your way to the airport, going over the loose itinerary timothée had made for the two of you once you landedin Venice. He had gone beyond what you expected to make this trip memorable despite telling him to not worry.

When you got to the airport everything went surprisingly smooth despite you being nervous the whole time. The two of you bought breakfast and ate it in the little food court, then headed to the gate which your plane would be in and played games while waiting to board.

Once the plane arrived the two of you got on, of course he had bought first class, you wanted to scold him for spending so much but as soon as you saw how excited he was you couldn’t be mad at him. “look! we get pillows and everything” he giggled, you smiled at him and nodded, equally as excited as him. The two of you ended up watching two movies, falling asleep during the second one.

You woke up first, smiling at the sight of timmy with messy hair, mouth slightly parted and cheeks lightly flushed as he slept. You decided to wait on waking him up, instead you occupied yourself by looking out the window and listening to your music.

The landing woke timothée up and he smiled at you brightly, it took him a couple minutes to really wake up, mumbling incoherently before he came fully to his senses.

As soon as you got off the plane you were excited, pulling timothée along to get out of the airport as soon as possible. When you finally got everything and exited you got into the car timothée had ordered for the two of you and headed to the hotel to unpack.

Timothée posted a picture of you staring out the window in awe onto his Instagram story, “she’s excited right now, just wait until she sees the canals” he wrote, smiling as he thought of all the pictures the two of you would take.

You expected an average hotel room, if timothée really splurged then maybe above average, you did not expect to get the presidential suite at a five star hotel. The smile on your face made everything worth it to timothée, he made sure this trip would be memorable. “Timothée Hal Chalamet! How much did you fucking spend!” You squeaked, rushing around the room to check everything on.

“That doesn’t matter, what matters is that you get changed and get ready, we’re in Venice for two days before our next stop and I have so much for us to do” he smiled, pulling you in for a kiss which you quickly returned. Resting your head on his chest you sighed, taking a Monet to let everything sink in. You’re in Italy with the love of your life. Holy shit.

Timothée had bought multiple disposable cameras for the two of you to use, wanting to develop all of them by the time you guys got back home.

Before you knew it you were wandering the streets of Venice, a permanent smile on your face as you took so many photos of the scenery and of timothée and of course together. The two of you visited the top tourist spots like Saint Marks Basilica, the both of you in awe of its beauty and laughing until your stomach hurt feeding the pidgeons.

Timothée was scared for his life when a pidgeon landed on his shoulder, immediately going stiff and begging for you to help him. You quickly pulled out your phone, recording him and zooming into his face, a face of pure fear. After you posted it you quickly shooed the pidgeon away, holding his hand and a small pidgeon landed on your shoulder and you fed it out of your free hand.

You smiled brightly at timothée who had moved away from you slightly causing you to giggle. “You laugh now but I’m gonna be the one poop free, those things are ruthless” he stated, a serious look on his face which quickly turned soft as you attempted to pet the bird on you. “Look at him he’s so cute!” You gushed, drowning as it flew away.

“Cmon sweet girl, we have a ride to catch, in the canal” he winked and you gasped, pulling him before you stopped, realizing you didn’t know where you were even going.

When the two of you arrived he helped you into the boat, it was only the two of you and the one driving the small boat, you were sitting next to each other, pointing at everything, a constant smile on both of your faces. He held your hand the whole time, most of the time looking at you rather than the sights you were in such awe of. A small smile on his face as he admired how beautiful you looked, you looked so stress free and happy and he knew everything else he had planned was so worth it if he got to see you like this.

After the ride on the canals the two of you ate at a small little restaurant, drinking some wine and talking about the days events.

“I just think it’s funny that you were that scared of the pidgeons” you giggled, and he frowned at you, “i wasn’t scared, i was just- cautious” he smirked, watching you roll your eyes at his remark.

The two of you finished dinner, walking around the now calmer streets, admiring everything at night for about an hour, kissing under streetlights and chasing one another through the streets, laughter bouncing off the buildings.

The two of you showered once you got back to the hotel and absolutely crashed after you had snuggled under the sheets. The two of you exhausted from the plane ride and walking everywhere all day.

You both woke up late in the morning to the sound of timothées alarm, you yawned, burying yourself more into timothées side, wanting ten more minutes. “Wake up mon amour i still have some stuff planned for today before we leave for Florence” he spoke softly into your hair, kissing the top of your head. He had decided to skip on taking you to Crema, deciding it would make for a good excuse to come back.

You woke up slowly, getting ready and waiting for timothée on the bed once you had finished. You were starving but you didn’t want to eat without him. You laid on your stomach and dozed off only to wake up to a now fully dressed timothée, smiling at you and kissing your nose. “let’s go eat and then we can head out” he whispered and you nodded, getting up from the bed and following him out the door.

The two of you spent the day walking around and seeing anything else you wanted, eating much too much food and buying way too many souvenirs. The day seemed to fly by and before you knew it you were headed to Florence, of course shoving all your luggage into the bus that the two of you were taking to the wonderful city. You slept most of the way while timothée read through a script for a new movie. He woke you up gently when you guys arrived, piling out along with everyone else as the two of you found the car timothée had ordered for this city, heading to yet another 5 star hotel with an amazing room.

It was late at night so the two of you only slipped into bed and set an alarm for later tomorrow morning, cuddling through the whole night, waking up once to eat some of the fruit that the hotel had given to the two of you as a gift.

The next morning the alarm went off and you quickly turned it off, placing your head on timothées chest, a smile on your face while he played with your hair.

“let’s get ready, i have something special planned, wear that one outfit you brought, you know the one that you said you’ve always wanted to wear?” He smiled, a mischievous glint in your eye. You gave him a kiss on the cheek and nodded, going to get ready.

After you finished you scrolled through your phone, replying to people and sifting through the pictures from Venice, deleting the ones which turned out bad or way too blurry. You decided to lay on your side, thinking you wouldn’t fall back asleep but you were wrong. Before you knew it you felt a gentle nudge.

“Cmon sleeping beauty i have a picnic for us” he beamed, a twinkle in his eye. You woke up quickly, a giant grin on your face as your mouth fell open. “A picnic? Oh my god this is a dream, angel you’re so amazing oh my god! I love you so much” You gushed, tackling timothée once you got off the bed and hugging him tightly, kissing him all over his face.

“i love you more ma cherie, now lets go” he smiled, opening the door for you and quickly taking your hand while walking down the halls.

You had ended up accidentally falling asleep in the car, head on timothées shoulder, he recorded you, saving it but not posting it, knowing if he did you would get him back and start a full fledged war.

As the car approached the Piazzle Michaelangelo he shook you softly, your eyes fluttered open and a small smile overtook your features. “Oh my god it’s so pretty” you gasped as the two of you stepped out of the car and onto the concrete floor, he got the picnic basket from the car as you went to save a spot on the steps. He quickly found you and opened the basket between the two of you, eating the food and making conversation, laughing and enjoying the fact that both of you were in Italy, overlooking Florence.

After sitting there for a while, cuddling and pointing things out the two of you drove into the city, excited to see everything the city had to offer. The two of you walked down the streets hand in hand, taking pictures once more and in awe of the beauty the city offered.

Of course the two of you drove all over the city visiting museums, seeing all the statues and artworks you had always admired through your phone screen. You almost wanted to cry of happiness seeing everything in person, you walked quickly in the museums, timothée barely keeping up with you as you rushed everywhere, making sure you absorbed every last detail.

Of course timothée took the typical you looking at art picture, and of course he posted it and captioned it “art looking at art” causing his fans to go feral, everyone tweeting and posting about how cute the two of you were. You held timmys hand when you realized he was dragging behind, pulling him along and forcing him to move at your speed.

“oh my god I love this painting, look at the brushstrokes! I read once that when he was painting this-” you began, going into detail about said artists life. Timothée stared at you, his chest swelling with love, a smile on his face as you went on and on about the paintings, he hung onto every word you said, loving the way your eyes lit up and the amount of emotion in your voice as you spoke of what you loved.

After you had visited the museums l, the two of you walked all over the city, taking in the culture and also taking many breaks and calling a cab to go to places he had planned to take you. Of course he set up a reservation at a fancy restaurant, eating to your hearts delight and drinking amazing wine, overseeing the bustling city as the sun set.

“i cannot believe we’re in Florence Italy” you sighed happily, looking out at the city while you sipped on your wine, timothée smiled at you. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to thank you enough angel, you really made my dreams come true” you spoke, turning towards your curly headed boyfriend and he shook his head.

“you don’t have to thank me ma cherie. I love seeing you happy, you deserve the world and I’m going to give everything i can to you, you’ve always supported me through anything and everything, you know me so well, i just love you so much” he answered. “but- you can thank me by letting me post a bunch of pictures of you everywhere” he smiled shyly, blushing slightly. You smiled brightly at him, your love for him growing. “oh baby of course” you giggled.

The next day was just as action packed, going to multiple cathedrals and basilicas which you hadn’t gotten to the day before, and then spending time in the gardens, taking so many pictures of each other, half of them turning out blurry because the two of you couldn’t stop laughing.

He held you hand the whole time, keeping you close to him the whole time, kissing you at times and always looking at you with so much love. All over Twitter and Instagram were pictures of the two of you holding hands and laughing, many of them with one of the two of you pointing at something, many of the ones with you pointing had timothée looking at you with a smile rather than what you were showing him, it gave you butterflies.

That night you headed to the hotel early, packing everything to catch the late night flight to Rome, the last destination on the trip. The two of you packed quickly, racing to see who would finish first. This made timothée sneak up behind you and unfold your tshirts, run back to his area and rush to finish, an attempt to beat you. You were one step ahead, you had hidden his shampoo so you had no problem re folding while he ran around everywhere.

“I’m done!” You announced proudly, smiling at your boyfriend and he rolled his eyes, a pout on his face. “That’s not fair! I finished before you i just lost my shampoo” he responded, you smirked at him. “Check under your pillow” his eyes went wide and raced to get it, jaw dropping when he found it. “y/n i swear one day im gonna beat you at these competitions” he huffed, pushing you playfully and you shoved him back laughing.

The two of you cuddled the whole time in the airport, attached to the hip, and napping until your flight boarded, where the two of you also slept the whole time. When you finally arrived in Rome, you both headed to the hotel, knocking out there too, excited for the next two days in Rome before returning home. The two of you only had two cameras left, it filled you with excitement to get the photos developed, knowing you would have so many pictures of him to post and an endless amount of wallapapers.

When the two of you awoke the next morning you headed out quickly, excited to spend yet another day together.

“timothée oh my god look at that dog! Do you think he speaks Italian?” You questioned, smiling at the small dog that walked past the two of you. “I’m sure he does my angel” he replied, laughing. Pulling you along the busy street, putting his arm around your waist.

The two of you marveled at the colosseum, mind running wild at the thought of people using it. “You think they ever had a concert in there?” You asked your boyfriend who giggled, “im not so sure they did my angel” you thought about someone using it today. “What if someone tried to have on in there today” you smiled and timothée quickly replied, “as soon as the speakers start blasting everything would just crumble” you laughed at the thought of someone wanting to have fun only to ruin one of the most iconic pieces of history.

The two of you walked along the streets, holding hands and swinging them back and forth, debating where to go next. “How about the pantheon?” You suggested and he nodded with a smile, “you read my mind darling.”

The two of you got there surprisingly quickly and sat down for a second, both of your guys’ feet hurting. You put your head on timmys shoulder, closing your eyes for a second, you could hear everyone talking, the sound of cars and the wind. “Are you tired mon amour?” Timothée asked, not wanting to tire you out so much, he wanted you excited and happy not tired.

“just a bit, but I’m sure it’ll leave as soon as we see the Vatican” you spoke, a smile forming on your face as you opened your eyes and looked at the brunette next to you. He kissed your cheek, getting up and extending a hand to help you up. “Let’s go see what all those shops we passed have had to offer later yeah?” He grinned and you nodded, stretching a little before falling into step with him.

The two of you arrived at the Vatican and you swear you had never felt more in awe than staring at everything inside, everything was so adorned and beautiful, even the pillars on the outside when the two of you were waiting (only for like 5 minutes) made you smile in amazement. Timothée and you kept pointing out everything, a smile on both of your faces. Both of your cheeks hurt from smiling so much but neither of you complained, too happy to care.

After the two of you walked around for a bit more you left and entered the busy streets of Rome once again, taking pictures of each other all the time and stopping to look at anything and everything. “Let’s go get something to eat” you suggested. “Oh yeah I’m starving after all that walking” he replied, pulling out his phone to find a nice place to get food.

Soon enough he found a nice spot and the two of you arrived there quickly, excited to eat. After ordering and eating the two of you sat in comfortable silence, taking the time to wind down before going back out. “can we go to the Trevi Fountain? I brought coins for us to throw in” you asked and timothée wanted to kiss you all over and hug you and never let you go because god you were so fucking cute.

“of course we can go mon amour, are you ready to go right now?” He asked and you nodded, he paid quickly before taking his hand in yours, the two of you walking slower than before, you were leaning on him slightly, he was talking about some story that had happened to him in high school. You don’t remember exactly how the story had come up but you were grateful that it had.

As the two of you continued walking hand in hand and smiling at the sights you realized that no one had disturbed the two of you this whole trip which was very surprising, but you were grateful that his fans were respectful of the two of you. “okay i told you am embarrassing story of me in high school you tell me one” he pushed and you groaned, stealing the water bottle from his hands and gulping down the drink.

“i wasn’t really embarrassing in high school, i had like five friends and we always looked out for one another, middle school i was the biggest emo alive” you shuddered thinking back to all the diary entries you had made. “I remember i wrote this one poem that was so cringe and i thought it was the best thing ever written” you cringed at the memory and he bursted our laughing, leaning into you as he did so.

“Do you still have said diary?” He questioned, a mischievous smile forming on his face, “back at my parents house yeah” you replied, narrowing your eyes at him, “but you will never lay your eyes on a single one of those pages Hal” you sternly replied, smiling as he rolled his eyes and pulled you closer to him, putting his arm around you. “We’ll see about that one” he smiled.

“oh my god! Timmy there it is!” You shrieked, energy suddenly overflowing as you ran, pulling timothee with you causing him to almost trip over his feet. You pushed through the crowd, saying excuse me and sorrys until you got the the front of the fountain. Timothée arrived a couple seconds after you, out of breath and amazed at how fast you had ran.

“ma cherie you need to slow down” he spoke, leaning over to catch him breath. You stared at the fountain in awe, a smile sprawled across you face, taking in the beauty of it all. “I can’t believe I’m really here” you whispered, timothée got up, wrapping both his arms around your waist. “Believe in my love” he smiled, kissing you on the cheek.

Suddenly you heard a crack of thunder and soon enough rain started pouring, the once crowded area was now close to empty as everyone ran for shelter, you and timothée didn’t budge, mainly because you didn’t even flinch and refused to move.

you turned to timothée, hair sticking to both of your foreheads a wild smile on your face as you dig into your pocket, looking for the coins you had brought. Quickly you handed one to timothée. “Ready?” You smiled and he nodded. “Okay, 1, 2, 3!” You shouted, the coins flipping into the water at the same time. Turning to timothée you found him smiling at you and you laughed.

“When in Rome” you said before bunching his shirt into your fist and pulling him into a kiss, you eyes shutting as rain fell around the two of you. The kiss was what you imagined the movie ones were like, passionate and loving. You smiled into the kiss before you opened your eyes and pulled away.

“you drive me crazy y/n” he whispered, a giant smile on his face as you wiped away the water from your eyes and pushed the hair out of your face. “Should we get out of the rain?” You giggled and he nodded, “probably, we don’t wanna get sick” he joked and you punched him. “Don’t fucking jinx it!” You yelled, running to the nearest shelter you could find, which so happened to be a tourist shop.

Shopping with timothée was always fun, shopping with timothée in another country was another level. He wanted to buy you everything you looked at, he would buy you at $50 shirt if you really wanted it. The two of you were dripping wet and needed to buy new clothes or else you would definitely get sick. You ended up wearing tacky tourist shirts, getting matching ones of course and buying souvenirs for everyone back home as well as a few things to decorate and to keep for yourselves.

Considering how hard it was pouring and the fact that the two of you now had wet socks you decide to call it a day and go back to the hotel room, not wanting to get sick considering tomorrow was the last day. You were glad that it was already 5 pm, you wouldn’t have missed that much that you had planned and you could easilh get to them tomorrow.

You guys quickly got into a car and made your way back to the hotel, opting on showering together. As the two of you stepped in you let out a sigh at the feeling of the warm water. You let the water rinse the two of you off before shutting it off and getting timothées shampoo, telling him to turn around so you could wash his hair.

“thank you for this whole trip baby, it’s really been a dream come true” you spoke, massaging the shampoo into his hair. “Im sorry that it rained sweetheart, i really wanted us to be able to do everything because this was supposed to be perfect and-” you frowned at him despite his back being to you. “Timothée you can’t control the weather! And even then this trip is already perfect because I’m here with you. I’m in Italy with the love of my life dammit, ive drank so much good wine and eaten even more good food! We haven’t gotten this much time alone in god knows how long, you’ve literally had a chauffeur in every city so that we didn’t have to worry about parking and you made us an itinerary! Everything about this trip has been perfect, even the hiccups in the road.” You stated, smiling at the memories the two of you had already made.

You turned the water back on to rinse the shampoo out of his hair and he smiled at you, kissing you on the forehead. “And plus, i finally got my kiss in the rain AND it was infront of the trevi fountain, how am i supposed to complain again ever?” You smiled up at him, he laughed and quickly closed his eyes as shampoo rinsed from his hair. He grabbed your shampoo and began to wash your hair, you relaxed at his touch and closed your eyes.

“I love you so much angel, you don’t even understand” he whispered, you hummed in response. He gave you a soft kiss to your neck, giving you goosebumps.

Soon enough you guys hopped out of the shower, warm and clean and changed into some pijamas, snuggling into bed and looking out of the giant window next to you. Between the sound of the rain hitting the window and timothées soft breathing, you quickly dozed off, not caring that it was only 6:30 pm and you’d probably wake up at 2 am with an insane amount of energy. Timothée asked you something,confused as to why you weren’t replying until he looked at you, a bashful smile on his face when he saw you sleeping.

“you know i love you so much, you mean the world to me mon amour, there isn’t anything i wouldn’t do for you” he whispered, brushing your hair lightly to get it out of your face. He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, turning the lights off in the room before closing his eyes and drifting off the sleep alongside you.

You ended up not even waking up throughout the night, instead sleeping until early the next morning. You hadn’t realized how tired you had been until now since you were more energetic than ever, excited to get as much in on the last day.

Timothée was the one dragging you around everywhere today, determined to get through the list had made, you smiled at him as he explained everything to you, surprised at how much he knew. “When did you make this list anyway?” You asked over lunch, looking up at him after you chewed your food. “I woke up at 2am and i couldn’t sleep but i didn’t wanna wake you up so i made this list and researched everything so i can give you the full tour guide experience” he replied, a giant smile on his face as you gawked at him.

“yeah that’s it, I’m gonna marry you” you shrugged, continuing to eat as timothée blushed and kept eating. The conversation flowing easily between the two of you and a comfortable silence falling into place at times.

The day continued quickly, visiting many more sites and before you knew it your disposable camera came to an end, and 30 minutes later so did timothées as the sunset. The two of you sat down on a bench, waiting on your guys’ driver to arrive so the two of you could pack up and head home.

“i can’t believe it’s over” you smiled softly, sad that it was over but happy that it happened. “Don’t worry mon amour im sure we’ll be back soon enough” he smiled and you put your head on his shoulder. “I love you with everything I have timothée” you spoke, looking up at him from your position. He kissed your forehead gently, “i love you so much more y/n” he smiled.

The two of you once again raced to pack up, you purposefully ‘lost’ your favorite shirt and let him win, although he would always hold it against you, it didn’t matter because you would lose over and over and over again if it meant seeing the amount of joy on his face when he shouted “IM DONE” and looked over at you with an unzipped suitcase.

As the two of you were waiting at the airport gate you had to make the obligatory Instagram post, gathering pictures of the two of you together and of yourself to post, you smiled as you picked out the photos. Searching the internet to see if anyone had caught the two of you kissing in the rain in front of the fountain, which of course they had. You looked over at a napping timothée, smiling as you set the photo as your lockscreen and added it to your post, quickly you typed out your caption.

“Italian days <3”

[passivenovember]

If Snow Loves the Trees and Fields.

Billy's job at Willowbrook Elementary is the only reason he puts up with this weather at all.

His hatred for winter, a season which hardly existed when he taught in the Valley, morphs and becomes something violent on the first Monday after Christmas break.

He wakes up feeling like his toes have gone missing, frozen black and blue with the cold, and after his phone tells him it's below zero outside, with wind-chill, his heart stops beating.

Hawkins is -10 degrees, to be precise.

And it leaves him feeling like that's gotta be illegal, or. He could for sure call all the scientists on Earth and have a law passed that clarifies: those born and raised in a Southern climate get a free pass on days when Hell is actively freezing over.

But it's not snowing today. And all the ice on the street has been scraped into terrible, disgusting drifts that block his driveway, and Hopper would immediately call bullshit. All, gonna have to suck it up if you wanna live here, buttercup.

So Billy decides to be an adult, or whatever. He spends another five minutes on his phone definitely not stalking his ex Instagram before rolling out of bed to get dressed.

And, like.

Even his underwear drawer is stiff from the cold so Billy decides to bundle the fuck up--a trick he learned from Max last fall, during the coldest year Indiana had ever seen. He manages to stack five layers in total; one pretty pink thermal set just brushing his his skin and a button down shirt to stave off the goosebumps. A sweater and jeans for professionalism. One Grateful Dead hoodie, because it makes him feel like he's not a total sell out, and a thick winter coat, sent special from the snow capped mountains of California this Christmas.

It still smells like his mom's pikake lei perfume.

Billy tries not to think about that, of home, on a day when he'd give his left nut for a ray of sunshine.

Instead, he spends ten minutes filling his thermos with coffee. Boiling the rice milk more than once so it'll stay warm on the ride across town. He sticks his pinky under the lip after his third go, and fuck that shit is so hot it will burn his mouth tomorrow, before checking the weather app again for closures.

Hoping against hope that something has changed in the last five minutes.

Of course, nothing has.

The superintendent believes that everyone in Hawkins is somehow used to temperatures that makes their eyelids freeze shut in the thirty second walk to the car in the morning. Billy jams a knit cap on his head and seriously considers calling in.

A last ditch effort to quell the rising fury in his veins, that like.

He's gonna have to scrape his windows, and freeze his dick off, and deal with the neighbor.

The one who looks like he doesn't mind the cold so much because he carries the sun with him, fucking asshole.

People shouldn't be wandering the streets when their eyelids could freeze shut, right?

Billy checks his phone one more time, frowning at a text from Joyce to pick up some coffee on your way in, and tosses his bag over his shoulder before he can change his mind.

--

It's so much worse than expected.

Billy's lungs seize up on his second intake of fresh air because no one should be huffing sulfur or gaseous ice or whatever the fuck this shit is first thing in the morning. On a Monday. The first one after Christmas break, and.

"God damn, holy shit, holy shit,"  Billy bounces the whole way to the Camaro, breath coming in short, comical bursts of steam that make his nose run. He swipes dramatically at his face, struggling to get his keys into the lock while balancing his thermos on one arm and his messenger bag on the other.

Billy's in the middle of forcing the door open, its hinges are frozen solid with ice goddammit, when Steve fucking Harrington appears like a cloud on the wind.

"Howdy neighbor," Steve says. Like they're cowboys in a shitty film from the 1970s. The wind kicks a lock of brown hair into Harrington's face and he shivers. "Wow, it's really blowing out here, huh?"

Midwesterner's love doing that.

Pointing out the obvious.

Billy grumbles a response, flinging his car door open and jamming the keys into the ignition.

Steve's saying something.

Talking like always, about his cat or maybe the beer they keep saying they'll have together, and generally Billy puts up with it but not today. He isn't going to freeze to death for a pair of legs.

The Camaro roars to life, clearly pissed at having to work on such a disgusting day, and. Alright. Letting your car "warm up," is something so Midwestern Billy can't even talk about it.

It takes him all of two minutes to scrape his windows, electing to carve holes in each wall of ice rather than clear the whole thing. The metal handle of the scraper Max got him feels like the ninth circle of hell against the peachy skin of his fingers.

He should've bought some mittens.

Joyce is always saying he needs mittens, he should've asked for some--

Billy tosses the scraper into his back seat and climbs in, slamming the door shut behind him and cranking the heat up to high. Steve's watching from next to the fence in a fucking pea coat, and a scarf with care bears on it and.

Nothing else.

Fucking asshole.

Steve waves at him, like; hey I'm talking to you. Frantically, like the mouse Mr. Bane caught last week is important.

But Billy's too busy trying to back out of the driveway with five layers of shit restricting his movement. He cranks the music up and cautiously pulls onto the street. Nice and smooth like he's seen Steve do effortlessly, even with three inches of ice on the ground. Fucking asshole.

Billy makes it halfway before he hits something.

The wind kicks hair into his face as he assesses the damage.

"You should've scraped your driveway last night." Steve says helpfully.

He's got a cigarette hanging from his lips, stark in contrast to the weird home made scarf he's got folded around his neck. Billy tries not to think about Steve's lips as he makes his way to the back of the Camaro to see that, yup.

Of course.

His baby is stuck in the snow. Billy kicks the tire. Like that'll fix anything.

"That's not gonna fix anything." Steve says, leaning against the fence.

"Jesus, fuck. I know, Steve." Billy scrubs a hand across his face, gesturing to the Care Bear scarf. "Why the hell are you wearing that thing, you look like a fruit."

"I am a fruit."

"Well you look like the whole goddamn bowl, pretty boy." Billy digs around for a cigarette. "My kindergarteners don't even fuck with the Care Bears enough to own scarves." Billy squints, assessing Steve from head to toe, delighting in the awkward squirm of his limbs. He clicks his tongue, disappointed. "Couldn't look any fruiter if you tried."

Steve shrugs his shoulders, like. Don't yell at me, this isn't my fault.

And okay.

He's cute.

Billy gets struck by that every time he sees the guy, all over again, like. His profile is perfect. Sharp nose, pretty eyes. Thick lips.

Steve holds out a cigarette.

Billy takes it.

"One of my residents made it for me. He's learning how to flat pattern." Harrington says shyly. "Well, he made it for his grand daughter, but. It turned out worse than he expected so I offered to take it."

Billy squints. "The fuck does that mean?"

"Just means I was trying to be nice--"

"No, the." Billy grins in spite of himself. "The flat patterning, what's that?"

Steve shrugs again. "I'm not sure, I think it's like. A sewing term. Or something." A pretty blush the color of Steve's scarf spreads across the bridge of his nose. It looks like strawberry ice cream and Billy.

Has to look away.

"My mom sews," Billy says gruffy. "I've never heard her say that."

"Well, maybe she drapes?"

Billy squints again. "What?"

"Draping. That's another thing people do--"

Billy stamps the cigarette out and kicks his tire again. Steve jolts, like. Billy tried to kick him or something, which just makes the situation worse.

"God, they should've cancelled classes." Billy states. Well, screams, to no one in particular. "Who wants to go to work in the snow, who fucking. Likes this white bullshit?"

Steve leans against the fence and looks thoughtful. "I love the snow."

"You're not helping."

"You asked."

"No, I didn't." Billy shoots back. He digs his cellphone out and shakes his head. "Why are you still here, Harrington? Don't you have old people to take care of?"

Steve chuckles again. Light, like Christmas bells. "Don't you have screaming brats to teach?"

"My car's kinda stuck in the snow, you fucking dick." Billy's so focused on trying to order a lyft that he doesn't waste time on pleasantries. He expects that to be the end of it, when the wind picks up and he swears again, but. Steve just moves closer.

"Let me drive you." Steve says.

And.

The moment sort of hangs there.

In the two years that Billy's lived next to the guy, they've never hung out. Never house sat for each other, never spoken outside the occasional could you make sure your idiot friends don't block my driveway, and empty promises to grab a beer sometime.

So the offer catches him off guard.

Billy glances up from his phone, confused, to find Steve looking everywhere but at him. Harrington's shifting his weight, like. He's fucking nervous, or something.

Or maybe hoping Billy will say no because he's just being polite.

Billy glares.

Of course he's just being neighborly. Charitable. That's what Midwestern assholes do.

Billy waves his phone in the air, like, "I'm ordering a lyft." And it comes out sharper. More aggressive than he means it too, but Steve doesn't seem to notice.

"Just ride with me, it's on the way."

Billy points at the screen. "Jason will be here in ten minutes."

"What's Jason got that I don't have?" Harington quips, and.

Billy just wants shit to go back to normal. He shakes his head again, "Nah, 's okay, pretty boy. Thanks anyway." Before turning back to his phone like he's got important shit to worry about.

Steve stands.

Stares.

Waits, for longer than is necessary, before clearing his throat. "Okay, well. Happy first day back." He says.

And if Billy didn’t know any better he'd say Steve sounds almost.

Disappointed.

--

When Billy gets off of work that night the snow is gone from his driveway.

--

Billy still has bad days.

They always start before dawn. With the claws of his nightmare leaving scratches down the lining of his throat. It's like Billy's carrying an anchor around his neck, or his veins are filled with playdough the color of the sun on those afternoons. He feels lazy and sluggish and like if someone looks at him for too long he'll break. Snap and crackle, like an open flame against fresh skin.

Billy still has bad days but they don't come unless he's been slipping for a while. Like forgetting to take his medication, or not writing his letter every night before bed.

The one to Neil, that his therapist says will help him work through the last of the road blocks that stand in the way of, "ultimate healing."

Billy used to think it was horseshit.

But Neil. Everything that happened, everything that still happens--when Billy goes home for Christmas, or when Susan calls and he can hear the slur of hate on the other end of the line--is standing in the way of something.

There are so many letters.

So much he wants to say.

Written on anything Billy can find, like. Napkins and the backs of take out menus--old drawings that the kids send home with him after Art class on Fridays.

The pages are kept in a binder.

His therapist says it's important to decorate the binder with, like. Stuff that makes him feel good. Words and phrases, stickers, pictures of the people he loves and drawings of all his favorite things. The folder is supposed to act as a visual reminder of the blanket of love that surrounds him, or something.

Melvalds only had brown folders when he went to pick his up, so.

The folder is brown. Disgusting.

And so far the only decorations he's been able to stomach are one of those fancy stickers from Redbubble that depicts his favorite episode of Daria, and a picture of him and Maxine with underwear on their heads.

Billy thinks it could be sad to some people.

That a poor, little abused boy only has two things in life that protect him from the shadow which falls with the setting sun, but it's the truth. Life is hard and fucked up. Billy has trouble letting people close, letting people in, so he sticks with the basics. The tried and true.

Maxine and his gravity bong.

Billy Hargrove is a simple man.

--

So it's two weeks after Steve shovels his driveway and Billy tells his therapist, like. "This fucking guy just. Did something nice for me."

And she clearly wonders what's wrong with him. "Did you say thank you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because," Billy tries not to get defensive about shit these days, because. It's only a hop-skip-and a jump from defensiveness to downright aggression and Megan, his well meaning shrink, doesn't deserve that even on her most annoying days.

His leg bounces under the table, thwacking against its mahogany edge loud enough that Megan can hear it over the fucking phone, so she says, "Billy. Stop."

Because they have a deal about nervous ticks.

Billy is supposed to say his safe word when he starts to feel anxious, but.

He fucking hates that shit. Hates being babied. Hates feeling like he's a goddamn basket case that needs to be rooted in reality when his trauma rears its ugly head. Billy smiles, the whole thing falling flat against his face. "I'm stopping."

Megan sighs. "Why haven't you thanked Steve for his act of kindness?"

"Because, like." Billy's shaking his leg again. Softer this time; it's a secret. "How do I know he isn't trying to, fucking. Get information out of me. Or out me to the community, or. Make fun of the way I'm a grown man who can't shovel his own driveway after a snowstorm--"

"I think you're internalizing your fears, Billy."

"Yeah, no shit." He snaps. Billy feels bad for half a second but then she's giggling, like she always does, which makes him feel less like the big bad wolf and more like one of the three little pigs. The guy with the straw, maybe?

Billy sighs, scrubbing at his face. "What does that even mean?"

Megan makes a noise on the other end of the line, like. In the six months that Billy's been in therapy he should've learned this by now.

Dude's got a short attention span, sue him.

And, sure enough. "Twice a week we meet over the phone and you don't know that internalizing your fears means you're trying to write the ending to a story you haven't even read yet?"

"Like, uh," Billy says intelligently. "What's that shit you're always saying? About seeing a book on the shelf and--"

"Guessing the ending. Yup, that's right." Megan sounds pleased. Billy ignores the bloom of happiness in his chest, because like. He doesn't really deserve it. She doesn't give him time to dwell, though. "Steve did something nice for you. Maybe he has suspicious intent--"

Billy sucks in a breath, like.

Dramatic. Loud enough that Megan snorts and says, "Hold on, you're jumping to conclusions again."

Billy really fucking.

Hates how perceptive she can be.

Megan keeps talking and Billy listens, because he pays her after all. "If you're really worried that his intentions are cloudy, do something nice for him in return."

"Something nice," Billy repeats. Like he's never heard of such a concept. "Something nice, like. Buy him flowers?"

Megan snorts. "Do you want to buy him flowers?"

"No, why would you think that?"

"Because you--" His therapist sighs. Billy embraces the feeling it gives him, yanking her chain a little bit. "Listen. I don't know this Steve person, and I've never heard you talk about him beyond this beer you're supposed to have together, like. Never. But has he ever given you a reason to think he's out to hurt you?"

Billy thinks back over two years and a million one-dimensional interactions.

Steve never loses his temper.

Not when Billy calls to have the cars that block his driveway towed, not when Billy bitches about the daisy bushes shedding into his yard in the fall, and Steve always picks up Mr. Bane's cat shit from Billy's front porch when the Gremlin actually goes outside.

Always with a smile and a sweet little, I think Mr. B likes you.

And, like.

It was pretty nice of Steve to offer Billy a ride that morning.

And shovel his driveway after work, just because he knew Billy probably wouldn't do it.

The whole thing, it. Fills Billy with something he can't quite express, a warmth he only ever feels when Max calls a dozen times to remind him to eat dinner when he sends a few intense messages.

Megan takes his silence, as always, like a breakthrough.

"So," She says, clearly satisfied. "Same time next week?"

--

Billy spends three days waiting for Steve to make it easy for him.

Because Harrington's a home owner, and there's always something, right? A problem he needs help with, like. A leaky pipe that needs fixed, a cup of sugar for a recipe that he didn't account for, ghosts in the attic. Typical HOA bullshit.

Billy stares out his window at the lovely split level next door and decides he'll take anything, do anything, to get this fucking anchor of guilt off his back for the whole driveway situation. The opportunity never presents itself.

The ducks never fall in a row.

Steve just leaves the house every morning, same time as Billy, same as always, with a gentle Howdy neighbor. And a smile tugging at his pretty pink lips, hair perfect and windswept because he's a fucking asshole and it only takes two days.

Forty-eight hours before Billy's hatching a plan to pay Harrington back and inventing problems to solve, like some sort of demonic Bob the Builder.

He calls Max on Thursday and comes up with a list. Something tangible, like breaking Steve's garage window with a ski ball. Or trapping Mr. Bane in a sweater and pretending like he's gone missing so Steve will have to round up a search party, but.

Billy knows Megan would call that instigating, antagonizing, and causing trouble, which Billy's trying not to do anymore.

So he brings up flowers again, because.

Fuck it--maybe he's wanted to see Steve behind a bouquet of Lilies of the Valley for months now.

And Max goes all soft.

And quiet, too, before whispering, "I'm really proud of you, you know? For getting better."

Then suddenly Billy can't breathe because there's a lump in his throat.

Because he is trying to get better. To live honestly, to lead with love--whatever hippie-dippie bullshit Megan is always spoon feeding him, so.

With Max's blessing, Billy's about to, like. Knock on Steve's door with a plate of pot brownies and a shitty thanks for being a decent human card when Mr. Bane leaves a dead bird on Billy's porch, the third one in a month, and Billy hatches an idea.

--

Steve's front door is yellow.

Like. Sunshine yellow. Valley girl yellow.

Which Billy used to think was charming but now thinks is kind of annoying, when coupled with Steve's perpetually sunny disposition. And okay. Maybe it sort of pokes and prods at that piece of him that's always missing home.

Maybe it makes him a little bit sad, like. He'll never really feel at peace anywhere else.

But before Billy can dwell on it, or raise his fist to knock on the door, Steve's opening it and preparing to step through. He's using his foot to stop Mr. Bane from running out into the yard so he doesn't see Billy right away, which.

Also means he's going somewhere.

Which inherently means Billy's caught him at a bad time. Billy holds the paper bag closer to his chest and feels the words bubbling up before he can practice his breathing, or. Stop them. Because this is his third biggest fear after arguments and spiders.

"I've caught you at a bad time, I'm sorry, I'll just come back la--"

Steve breaks out into a grin so big. So bright, that it rivals anything Billy's ever seen before.

"Howdy, neighbor!" Steve says.

And Billy shifts nervously from one foot to the other, like. "Is this a bad time?"

"No, it's not a--"

"Because I can come back later." Billy nods, already turning on his heel to escape, and like. Fly into the sun. "Or not at all. I can just mail it to you, that's. Yeah, I'll just stick it in the post or something."

Steve grabs his elbow.

Billy looks at the hand on his elbow, and down at Steve’s feet. There aren’t any shoes or anything, so.

Billy's overreacting.

Fuck. He swallows, raising his eyes with caution to see Steve smiling again. Even wider than before, if that's possible.

Harrington licks his lips. "Whatcha got there?" He says, nodding to the bag, and Steve.

He's wearing glasses today.

Billy feels like someone hit him on the back of the head with a ski ball. Steve looks so soft, in white stripped overalls and a green sweater, that Billy doesn't know whether to fluff him like a pillow or fucking.

Punch him in the face.

Billy holds out the paper bag. "It's for you."

Steve looks at him strangely but he's still smiling, which.

Is good.

Billy thinks it's good but then he knows its good when Steve giggles. "I gathered that. What is it?"

"It's a, uh. You know." Billy tries. "You know one of those things? Where it's, like, a thing but you aren't supposed to know what it is?"

Steve blinks at him, cheeks turning pink like they always do. "A surprise?"

"That's the one." Billy snaps his fingers, like. Ah-ha. Except it isn't a surprise, it's just. "It's a way to say thanks. For the whole," Billy concludes, gesturing vaguely to their front lawns, to. "The driveway."

Steve blushes even harder. "You didn't have to get me a present--"

"It's not a present."

"That was just me trying to be nice." Steve leans against the door jam, eyes searching. "It doesn't call for a--"

"It's not a present." Billy says again. Steve doesn't look like he believes him, so Billy, like. Shoves the paper bag to his chest. "Look, open it now or don't. Fucking, throw it away for all I care, it's fine."

Billy turns on his heel because fuck this.

Fuck trying to pay back nice with nice and fuck Steve for starting this whole debacle to begin with. Billy makes it down one step and then Steve is laughing so hard he can't stand up straight.

Which just makes Billy feel worse, because.

"You're laughing." Billy gapes. "I bring you a present to say thanks for not being an asshole, and you're laughing."

Steve doesn't answer, he just.

Keeps on laughing, and okay.

This is Billy's third greatest fear. After abandonment and fighting. Fists covered in blood--his or someone else's, it doesn't matter. He frowns, turning to leave again when Steve straightens and coughs once into the palm of his hand.

"Thought it wasn't a present," Steve quips, and he's looking at Billy with, like. Sparkly eyes. He shrugs. "I'm not sure what it means."

Billy doesn't get it. "It doesn't have to mean anything--"

"No, like." Steve peers into the bag again, clearly holding back tears. "Why did you get me a bag of dead mice?"

"You can get them at the pet store." Billy says, because. You can, alright? He fiddles with the sleeves of his winter coat. "They're for Mr. Bane."

Steve just stares at him, eyes twinkling like two polished diamonds in his head.

And he's not saying anything, or. Laughing anymore, he's just. Watching Billy fall to pieces on his walkway as he tries to defend himself.

Billy focuses on the clouds that inch across the sky. "Mr. Bane, he's. He's always catching shit, like. Dead shit and leaving it on my porch. I just thought if he wants to eat dead things I can just. Buy him a pack or whatever. Like a normal person."

Steve grins. "You know they do that because they think you can't feed yourself."

Billy wrinkles his nose. "Well I fucking appreciate it, but I don't want to eat dead mice and birds and shit."

Steve chuckles once before staring again.

Like he's memorizing Billy's face, or like. They're having a competition that Billy doesn't know about.

Billy gestures to the bag again. "Would you just accept it, Steve? Please?"

Harrington looks down at the mice in his hands and nods slowly, like the decision is really requiring some thought.

Billy feels stupid.

This was so fucking stupid--

"Sure, Billy." Harrington says. Soft, and. Sweet. "No one's ever given me such a thoughtful gift before, so. Thank you."

And Billy feels like the tin man getting oil on his joints after a year of rusting in the forest, when Steve accepts his weird ass gesture. He nods, mouth lapsing into a thin, unamused line. "Okay, then. See ya 'round," Billy says.

And then he's turning, and.

Leaving.

Before Steve can say anything else.

The clouds inch like caterpillars across the bright winter sky and Steve's walkway seems so much longer on the journey home.

[neon-junkie]

some shy!Flaco and gn!Reader for y’all

Also a modern setting cause I LOVE the thought of Flaco driving around in classic cars with big snazzy sunglasses on 8) 

Modern Flaco is 100% a retired movie star. He used to play the antagonist role in classic western films. Whenever a western came out, people would say "I bet Hernández will be playing the villain again," and surprise surprise, he is. Everybody loves it though, he's good at what he does and very famous for it.

Only issue is, Flaco hates the fame. He played in those movies because he wanted to. The money was a bonus, but the fame is a downfall.

So many people would kill to be in the position he is/was in, and the thought makes him chuckle. It's funny how life works.

Flaco lives in Hollywood, as cliche as it is, but he loves being able to drive down scenic routes, to drive past his old studios and set locations, and to have everything he enjoys at his doorstep.

He owns a really nice 1961 Chevrolet Impala. It's black with a red interior, and he spoils that thing cause it's his one true love.

Flaco rides around often with the top down, cigarette in one hand, other hand on the steering wheel, with some big bad boy sunglasses on. He's quite the sight and he knows it.

But he ignores everyone. Bunch of women fawning over him at the traffic lights? Ignore. Idiot in the car next to him revving his engine, wanting a race? Ignore.

He once accidentally ran over Micah Bell and didn't give a shit. He shouted "watch where you're going, blondie!" and looked in his car mirror to see Micah picking himself off the road. He was fine.

Flaco has a loose routine, and every Wednesday, he picks up Black Belle from her fancy mansion and they go get something to eat. He always picks her up around midday, and their meetups can take anywhere from an hour to all day.

Belle met Flaco many years ago when they were put on set together, and they've starred in a few films over the years. Belle doesn't mind the fame as much, she's happy to sign autographs and pose for photos here and there.

The two usually get some form of lunch together, though most of the time they day drink and get hammered by 3pm. Flaco just gets a taxi back to Belles and passes out on her sofa, cuddling her Irish Wolfhound. He then walks and picks up his car the next day, or the day after, depending on the hangover.

"Where we going today, Hernández?" Belle asks as she gets in his car. It's her usual greeting for him.

"How about we do exactly what we do each week, and drive around until we pick somewhere?" Flaco suggests, as always.

So the two of them do exactly that. They cruize around, fussing over where to eat.

Flaco always keeps a carton of eggs in his glovebox, as gross as that is, just so him and Belle can throw one at Little Boy Calloway whenever they see him. He's a sellout, a washed-up, grumpy old man, and they love to torment him for being such a wuss.

Flaco drives by this small cliche American diner on the corner of one street. As always, the traffic lights change so he has to wait a while, but he'll peer in the window, eyes glistening at that young server inside.

"They're far too pretty to be working in there, BB," Flaco tells Belle, as always.

"Here we go," Belle mocks, rolling her eyes. Flaco does this every week, driving this specific route just so he can enjoy his five-second gaze at you through the window. You've never noticed, surprisingly.

"They'll be mine one day, just you wait," Flaco grins, pushing his sunglasses back up his nose as the lights change to green.

"How about today, huh? Let's go inside," Belle suggests.

Flacos gaze quickly flicks over to Belle. "You crazy?!" He shouts.

"I am, and so are you. Come on, pull up here," Belle points at the car park just down the street.

Flaco's mumbling under his breath but he does it anyway. Belle always gets her way, he's a sister to her, and Flaco's an only child so it's hard for him to deny his adopted blood.

"I'm not even dressed nice. I look scruffy. Why can't we just go another day?" Flaco grunts as he parks.

"You wear the same damn thing every week. Now come on, quit your moaning," Belle says as she gets out of the car.

"No, I don't! I'm wearing new pants this week, look," Flaco says as he points to his jeans.

"Oh wow. New pants that look exactly like your old ones? You're really dressed to impress here, ain'tcha?" Belle teases.

Belle leads the way, hurrying Flaco along, teasing him over and over. "You gonna ask for their number? Ask 'em out on a date? Maybe you can take 'em for a ride? Hm?" She pokes and prods at him. Flaco stays silent, frowning, his sunglasses covering up half of his sulky face.

Belle's energetic when she enters the diner, greeting you with a smile and asking for a table for two. You talk to them in your customer service voice, seating them at a booth by the window.

You know exactly who they are. Who doesn't? Though you haven't seen all of their movies, you know the stuff that they've been in is really good, classic western films. A genre that you've studied at college.

Flaco takes his sunglasses off, placing them on the table. He keeps his gaze down and tries to focus on the menu you've placed in front of him.

"Would you like anything to drink?" You ask them.

"A chocolate milkshake please, sweetheart," Belle smiles at you. You've heard that she's a kind woman but you weren't expecting her to be this friendly.

"Sure. And for you?" You ask Flaco, who keeps his gaze down.

"Ermm. Uhh. I'll just have the same as her," Flaco replies, quickly brushing you off.

You tell them you'll be quick with their drinks and leave them to it. You assumed Flaco was just tired, maybe his reddened cheeks is from the heat outside?

"A milkshake?" Belle mocks once you've gone into the back. "Hernández, you hate milkshakes!" She laughs.

"I panicked, alright?!" Flaco grumbles.

"Why don't we call her back over so you can fumble about even more as you change your mind?" Belle teases.

"No!" Flaco almost shouts. A customer nearby jumps out of his skin, intimidated by Flacos deep and sudden voice.

"Alrighhttttt," Belle grins. "You make sure you know what you really want to eat though," Belle talks to him in a baby voice. It always winds him up but since they're in public, Flaco can't make a scene and playfight back.

You bring the drinks over and the two of them thank you, Belle smiling up at you whilst Flaco keeps his head dipped down. "You ready to order?" you ask, and they both nod.

You take their orders and everything seems fine, so you head back into the kitchen to hand them over to the cook.

"You not want a side order of their number with that, Hernández?" Belle grins again.

"I should never have agreed to come here. You are the most embarrassing woman I've ever met," Flaco sighs, looking at Belle with the most blankly frustrated look he's ever pulled.

All Belle does is grin and enjoy her milkshake, urging Flaco to drink his own.

He does, and he can't handle the sweetness. But Flaco drinks it anyway, not wanting to make any more of a mess than he's already in.

The rest of their time there goes smoothly, enjoying their food and nattering away. Flaco slowly relaxes, but Belle notices the way his eyes flick to watch you every time you appear.

"So, you gonna ask? or have I gotta do it for you?" Belle asks.

"Why don't you feed me whilst we're at it? Maybe drive me to the bar so I can get blackout drunk and try to forget this humiliating experience?" Flaco groans, half chewing his food. He doesn't care and Belle's used to seeing him talking whilst he eats.

"Fine, I'll do it then," Belle rolls her eyes. Flaco goes to stop her but it's too late, she's called you over.

"We'll take the bill when you're ready, sweetheart," Belle tells you.

"Sure, no problem." You're about to walk off but Belle speaks again.

"Flaco, ain't there something you wanted to say?" Belle asks, grinning from ear to ear as the two of you look at him.

"Oh, erm..." Flaco mumbles, quickly wiping the ketchup off his stache with a napkin. "Could... could you send my compliments to the chef, please?" He asks.

"Of course! She'll be happy to hear it," you smile at him, quickly turning away to head into the back.

"Hernández!" Belle kicks him under the table.

"You can't put me on the spot like that!" Flaco frowns, trying to keep his voice down again.

"Fine, I give up," Belle sarcastically sighs.

"You do?"

"Yep," she shrugs. "You've won, Hernández. You'll have to pick them up in your own time," she sighs.

"Hmm. I've known you far too long to know that you don't give up this easily," Flaco squints.

"Nope, I've truly given up. No point wastin' my time when you won't co-operate," Belle shrugs again.

Flaco's suspicious but leaves it.

The two of them pay and leave, giving you a fat tip that makes your eyes sparkle. Belle insists you take it, Flaco nodding in agreement but still staying quiet.

Finally, they head off, leaving the diner and heading back to the car.

"Oh, shit! I left my purse in the diner," Belle sighs. "I'll meet you at the car, alright?"

Flaco's about to say he'll just come back with her but she's already ran across the street, flipping off the stranger that almost ran her over.

Flaco rolls his eyes and heads back. He starts the car, putting on his sunglasses and lighting a cigarette.

Belle comes round the corner, grinning from ear to ear.

'I knew I couldn't trust her, what's she done now?' Flaco thinks to himself.

"Why are you smiling?" Flaco snaps as Belle gets in the passenger side.

"This is for you," Belle mischievously grins, handing Flaco a piece of paper with your number on it.

"BB, why you gotta put me on the spot like this, huh? This is so embarrassing," he shakes his head, taking out his wallet so he can put the piece of paper away safely.

"Oh, don't you worry. They said they get just as nervous as you do," Belle tells him as she puts her sunglasses on, leaning her arm on the car door.

"They do?" Flaco asks, seeming surprised.

"Course. It's that natural attraction, Hernández," Belle teases.

"Oh, shut up you," Flaco swats his hand.

Maybe one day he'll be able to get her back, but for now, he needs to work up the confidence to call you.