#That dress will define whether I pass my last year of high school or not.

[milangakokoros]

My prom dress design (I have to sew it myself at school)

Close up of the face (in theory it's my face irl)

Moodboard:

[theladyofdeath]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 6}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelb’s blogs! >> @snelbz​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

The week had passed by in a blur and by the time Saturday came, all Nesta wanted to do was sleep in. 

But she couldn’t.

Sleeping in wasn’t possible anymore. 

Her alarm had been set for seven, but she woke up with the sun peeking through her curtains at 6:45. She looked at the baby monitor on the nightstand. Nyx was still sound asleep in his crib.

With a groan, she covered her head with her pillow and tried to shut out the light, but it was no use. 

She was wide awake. 

May as well enjoy a cup of coffee before Nyx wakes up. Nesta tossed her legs over the side of the bed and tossed her robe over her pajama shorts and tank top. After pulling her long, golden-brown hair back, she was tiptoeing through the hall and down the stairs.

Once she reached the bottom of the stairs, she could hear noise coming from the kitchen.

The sizzling of bacon being dropped into a skillet.

She had expected it to be Cassian, of course, but what she wasn’t expecting was what he was wearing.

Or, she supposed, what he wasn’t wearing. 

She wasn’t sure if she should go back upstairs, to give him privacy. But he was the one who had chosen to come downstairs like this, in one of the common areas of the house, so Nesta went ahead and walked into the kitchen. She aimed straight for the coffee pot, grateful to see a fresh pot already in the carafe. “Good morning.”

He turned towards her, that broad, muscular chest on full display, thanks to the white towel wrapped around his hips being the only thing he had on. “Morning, Nes. Hope you want breakfast.”

She continued to make her coffee, which was usually easy, considering it was one spoonful of sugar in black coffee, but she was having a distinctly hard time focusing on what she was doing.

She had seen Cassian without a shirt in before, at the few times they’d both been over to swim in Feyre and Rhysand’s pool, but there was something distinctly different about seeing him wearing a pair of swimming trunks and that towel. That towel that was sitting so low on his hips, she knew there could be nothing underneath it.

He didn’t even seem to notice, didn’t even seem to think about her reaction to him standing nearly nude in the kitchen, making breakfast. His hair was still wet, although the ends seemed to be drying. 

She wondered if this is what he looked like in a towel, what he would look like in the shower.

She quickly shook the thought away, even though it couldn’t help but linger in the back of her mind.

“I’ve got eggs, bacon, and toast,” he said, his back to her. She watched his muscles expand as he moved pans around and turned off the burners. “Simple, but it’ll fill you up. We’ll need all the energy we can this morning.”

Nesta cleared her throat and gave him a nod as he turned to face her. It was true, and Nesta was unexcited about it. The two of them would spend their day trying to find a part-time nanny for Nyx for the days that the two of them were both at work at the same time.

They’d had plenty of applicants, some of whom seemed promising. 

Nesta had her fingers crossed.

A plate was set down in front of Nesta, and for a moment, all she could do was stare at it. There was a smiley face made out of a bacon mouth and egg-eyes. Another plate was set in the middle of the table, piled high with toast and jam. 

“What am I, two?” she asked, gesturing to the breakfast face in front of her.

Cassian chuckled. His plate was piled high with bacon and eggs. No room for faces. He sat across from her and leaned on the table with his elbows. “A little smiley face never hurt anybody.”

She said nothing, just picked up her fork and cut into the eggs. She hadn’t even told him she liked her eggs over-medium, but she was glad she did as the semi-runny yolk spilled out onto her plate. Nesta thought about starting something about it, about asking about food preferences before he assumed something, but it was too early and she hadn’t gotten to enjoy nearly enough of her cup of coffee. It was too early to fight. So instead she picked up a crispy piece of bacon and used it to pick up some of the egg, before popping it into her mouth.

Her eyes slipped closed and she tried not to moan.

How could a simple breakfast taste so damn good?

When she opened her eyes again, she assumed she hadn’t been completely successful in stopping her appreciative noises, because he was smirking at her as he brought his own coffee to his lips.

“Told you I make a mean breakfast,” he said, reaching for a piece of toast and slathering it in blackberry jam.

Clearing her throat, she ignored him and continued eating until her plate was completely empty. Just as she was about to get up to rinse it off, he stood, adjusting that damn towel to fit more snuggly around his hips, and picked up both of their plates. She tried her best not to watch the muscles shift in his back as he rinsed the plates and loaded them into the dishwasher. Tried her best, but found herself staring as she sipped from her coffee cup, but snapped herself out of it and got up as well, making Nyx a bottle for when he woke up.

As she shook the formula up, she asked, “Will you be putting clothes on before the applicants get here, or should I warn them this is going to be a clothes-optional interview?”

He glanced at her over a shoulder, as he began to clean the pan he’d cooked the bacon and eggs in, but turned right back to the sink. “Does my nakedness bother you, Nes?”

Damn him, she could hear the smirk in his voice.

“No,” she snapped. “And stop calling me that.”

“So, you like me in a towel, then?” he went on, turning the sink off as he put the final plate in the drain rack.

“You’re exhausting, you know that?” she asked, turning to face him full on.

He turned to her then, one brow raised as he ran a hand through his nearly-dried hair. “I’m just saying, if it bothers you, I’ll be sure to dress before I come down to slave away for you over the stove. But, if it doesn’t bother you, I have to admit that I like to completely dry before I put on clothes.”

No, it didn’t bother her.

No, she didn’t mind having her breakfast with a view.

No, she wouldn’t mind reaching out and feeling just how hard and defined his abs really were.

No, she would never admit to that.

Instead, she raised her chin and said, “I should wake Nyx up so he’s ready before the first applicant arrives.”

“So formal,” he grinned. “And here I thought we were having a nice, pleasant morning.”

A soft cry came from upstairs and she was immediately in motion, all thoughts of those abs and whether or not water from his shower would well in the defined divots of them gone. Snatching up the bottle she’d set on the counter, she turned and headed for the living room and the stairs beyond. “Put some clothes on,” was all

she called back to him as she hurried for Nyx’s nursery.

*

Nesta shut the front door, falling back against the wood, listening as the final interview made her way down the cobblestone walkway.

She sighed and made her way into the kitchen. She needed a glass of wine.

A bottle of wine was more like it, but a glass would do for now.

She found Cassian already standing behind a chair at the kitchen table, the resumes of each applicant spread out before him. “So,” she said, reaching into the fridge for the bottle of chilled, white wine. “What did you think?”

He blew out an equally exhausted breath, before shaking his head. “There was…a lot of variety.”

He was right. There was a woman who had to be in her seventies, who had brought an entire notebook of lesson plans, with her goal to have the one-year-old fluent in French before his third birthday. Then there was the thirteen-year-old who had lied about her age on the application, but promised she could ride her bike the mile and a half from her house every day they needed her. Just not until after three on school days.

“Too much variety,” she agreed. “That last woman was so boring she literally put Nyx to sleep.”

It was true. Nyx was currently sound asleep in the middle of his playmat in the living room, surrounded by his toys. 

“I didn’t mind the retired librarian,” Nesta said, filling her wine glass to the brim. 

Cassian scrunched his nose. “She smelled weird.”

Nesta scoffed. “I don’t think Nyx will be minding her smell. She was smart and was obviously good with him.”

“So was Viviane,” Cassian said, picking up an application off the table.

Nesta blinked. “Viviane?”

“Yeah, Viviane,” he said, showing her the application. “Smart. Bachelors in early childhood education. Lives three miles down the road.”

“Young, blonde, hot,” Nesta added, taking a drink.

Cassian raised an eyebrow. “So you do remember her.”

“I remember that she didn’t have near enough experience and she only listed one reference,” Nesta replied, taking the application and resume from him. She looked it over again. “She can’t be more than twenty-two years old.”

“What does her age have to do with it?” He asked, leaning down on the chair and looking at her. “She’s got good qualifications and Nyx loved her. She was one of the few he actually laughed and wanted to play with.”

It was true, he’d been extremely uncomfortable around most of the applicants. He cried the second a couple of them looked at him and had even spit up on one of them. But he had giggled with Viviane and genuinely seemed to like her.

“She hasn’t worked at a legit daycare or anything, but she’s been a one-on-one nanny before,” Cassian pointed out, as Nesta was reading the same thing on her copy of the resume. “And she said she could get us the numbers of her previous families. She just didn’t want to give them out without asking permission.” He smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. “Sounds like she’d respect our privacy, too. But go ahead, keep thinking of reasons she’s not a good candidate.”

Aside from her perky tits and ass, I can’t think of any. The words almost came from her lips, but Nesta ground her teeth.

“We have to agree on someone, and Viviane can start immediately,” Cassian continued. 

Nesta stared at him for a moment.

He stared back, watching as she sipped from her glass. “I swear to the Mother, Cassian, if you fuck the nanny-.”

Cassian barked an unamused laugh. “You think I have absolutely no self control, don’t you?”

“I think you’re basing this choice off of what you want, not what Nyx needs,” she said, not breaking their eye contact.

“She may be hot, but fucking her would be a lot more trouble than it’s worth,” he admitted. “And Nyx is half Rhys. Don’t forget that. He liked to appreciate pretty things just as much as I do, and I’m sure Nyx will, too.”

Scoffing, Nesta set her glass down and went into the living room to get Nyx. “He’s a baby, not a grown man, with raging hormones. You’re disgusting.” She picked him up, still fast asleep from hearing about the nuances of the differences in a sitter and nanny from the old crone they’d spoken with last. “Call Viviane, let her know she starts tomorrow at eight.”

Cassian met her on the stairs. “I don’t work tomorrow, I can watch him.”

Nesta shrugged, but continued up, carrying a drooling Nyx to his nursery. She hadn’t noticed how close to his nap time it had gotten. “Think of it as an exercise in self-control then, and a test run. See how she does with Nyx and see if you can keep your dick to yourself.”

“I’ve kept it from you pretty easily, haven’t I?” 

Nesta refrained from responding as she carried Nyx into the nursery and laid him down, cracking the door open behind her as she left. Walking back downstairs, she retrieved her wine, purposefully ignoring him, though she felt his eyes on her the whole time. She wouldn’t answer his question, was doing her best not to think about it, especially compounded with memories of him this morning.

She had no idea the muscles leading down by the hips could really be so defined. She thought the illustrious V that dragged your eye downwards on most male models was photoshopped in. Cassian, though, very much proved it not only existed, but that it was as distracting as she’d imagined it could be.

“I’m taking a bath,” she announced, heading back for the stairs. “Let Viviane know she got the job, but she can start whenever you want. If you’ll be off tomorrow, we don’t need to pay her to be here.”

She didn’t wait for his reply, and was in her room with the door shut a few seconds later. She took her time filling the bathtub with the things she found under the counter. There were oils and salts and bubbles and soaps, and by the time Nesta settled into the bubbly, warm water, the entire bathroom smelled like a spa. She sipped her wine, refusing to let her mind wander back to Cassian that morning, but by the time her glass was empty, her head was swimming and the water had begun to go cold.

She got out of the tub, watching as the water swirled down the drain and began toweling off.

And then, she had an idea, to give Cassian a taste of his own medicine.

She grabbed a clean, fluffy, white towel and wrapped it around her chest. And then she headed down to the kitchen for a refill.

Cassian was lying on the couch, one arm tossed behind his head, the other using the remote to flip through the stations on the TV.

He caught Nesta the moment her feet appeared at the top of the stairs.

Nesta’s heartbeat a little bit faster with every step she took.

“This is a new look for you,” Cassian said, simply, even though his voice had lowered an octave since the last conversation they had. “Especially considering you took the master bedroom so that you had your own private bathroom to avoid such run-ins with me.”

Nesta tossed her long, wet hair over her shoulder. “I figured it was okay since you’ve made it perfectly clear that you have no desire to crawl into bed with me. I deemed it safe territory.”

The glass still dangled between her fingers and she heard the couch creak as she turned the corner into the kitchen. She may have grabbed a towel that wasn’t quite as wide as the rest of them, one that didn’t quite come as far down her thighs. But if he wanted to prance around in nothing but his skin, she could do the same.

They were both adults. She had no interest in sleeping with him - so she told herself, at least - and he’d said he had no interest in her.

She poured what was left of the bottle in her glass and threw it into the trash with a clunk. She hadn’t realized she had so little left, but was fairly sure another bottle was in the wine cabinet.

Which was in the living room.

When she re-entered the living room, the volume on the TV was nearly silent and Cassian was sitting up, rather than laying down. One arm was draped across the back of the couch and the other still clutched the remote.

She could feel his eyes on her and she took another drink before reaching around the back of the cabinet for the key and unlocking it.

Not only did she grab another bottle of her favorite wine, but also a good bottle of whiskey, too.

“Planning on getting wasted?” He asked, quietly. 

“Just stocking up,” she replied, locking the cabinet behind her. “Care for a glass?”

Cassian looked around the room, as if she would be talking to anyone else other than her. “Sure.”

“Whiskey, I assume?” she asked, going back into the kitchen for another glass. 

The television was a little bit louder when she returned, but not by much.

She sat on the opposite end of the couch, and set the glasses on the coffee table in front of them. After retrieving the glass bottles, she poured.

Cassian remained perfectly quiet as she did so. 

“Is this a truce?” he asked, as Nesta held the glass out toward him.

“This is a celebratory drink to commemorate finding a nanny today,” Nesta said, although her voice held no warmth. “No matter how young and inexperienced and doomed-to-fail she is.”

She held up her wine glass.

Cassian snorted as he clinked his glass against hers.

She wasn’t paying any attention to whatever he had playing on the TV, and she had a feeling he didn’t either, not as she could feel his stare burning into her. Enough so that she crossed her legs, unintentionally causing the towel to raise even higher attention on the outside of her thigh. It almost exposed her entire hip, which she wasn’t anticipating, but she had made the decision to come down here, to tease him by showing him what he had done to her. She wouldn’t let him see how much his gaze was affecting her.

Even if it was just the wine.

Or so she told herself.

She was just about to stand, to make some excuse for going upstairs when he set his glass down on the coffee table and cleared his throat.

“New house rule. Clothes are required in the common areas. Kitchen, living room, dining room,” he said, ticking them off one by one. “Bedrooms and bathrooms are the only places where this is allowed.”

He gestured towards her, without looking, to make sure his point was understood.

“Why?” She asked innocently, and then she threw his own words back into his face. “Does my nakedness bother you, Cass?”

“Quite the opposite,” he admitted, adjusting himself.

Nesta pretended she didn’t notice.

“I thought you had no issue keeping yourself in check with me,” Nesta said, her voice low. “I thought you weren’t some untamed male with raging hormones.”

“I’m not,” he said, reaching to refill his glass. “At least, not until a beautiful woman is sitting a foot away from me, soaked, in a towel, pouring me whiskey.”

“I’m not soaked,” she said, without thinking it through. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

When Cassian looked at her, he grinned, but his eyes were dark. “I meant your hair.”

Nesta knew her plan had immediately backfired, either that or she’d had far too much to drink, so she simply nodded and stood heading back for the staircase.

“Nes?”

She turned back to look at him, halfway up the staircase.

He was smirking, that glass of whiskey resting on the arm of the couch. “If you ever do find yourself soaked, you know where to find me.”

She was up the stairs and slamming her door in a flash, trying to ignore his quiet laughter.

[rinharu-purple]

Emmm 👉👈 can i request Gavin's spring festival date analysis?! Ehem especially when Gavin said "I've waited a long time for today.." 💙

But Of course if you're not busy.. I'll wait patiently.. I just.. love read your analysis 💙 like i can feel your love and dedication for Gavin.. a lot of Gavin stan is very smart and loyal.. just like Gavin itself

Hello nonny and of course you can! Thank you for your lovely ask and reading my posts. It makes me really happy to hear this 💞 I can also double up what you've said, Our birdcop is smart and loyal and I really love being a part of Gavin-standom which includes so many talented writers, artists, analysts and it has @cheri-translates! There are so many great posts from various accounts and one can feel the love, passion and loyalty towards Gavin in all of them! 💫

An analysis on Spring Festival date is so overdue, so it is me who should apologize for not having written this before. I will more than gladly include your request scene, I hope you enjoy it ^_^

MC Testing Waters: Spring Festival Date

At the beginning of the game, MC is a young woman with lots of love in her heart, however without much experience in love. Fortunately this starts to change when she meets LIs as adults.

Spring Festival Date takes place after Firework Date and before the Romantic Date, although the timeline is quite messy, which I will come to by the end of this analysis.

If you look closely, you can see MC checking Gavin's romantic feelings towards her by using this "boyfriend game" and also uses the opportunity to get beyond his hardened exterior and touch his vulnerable side 💗

Spoilers start below this line

This date comes to, because MC lies to her aunt about having a boyfriend to avoid arranged blind dates and even promises to visit her on New Years with her boyfriend. Speculatively it seemed like a solid play, until...the time literally came.

Thinktanking about a way out of this with Kiki and Willow, they weight different options as to tell them she broke up with him, leave the city or call in sick but then the best wingman on earth Minor saves the way and suggests that she just takes a "fake boyfriend" with her, surely enough with Gavin in his mind.

MC goes through her contacts list to search for a suitable candidate, but her heart Whispers her the answer by skipping a beat as her fingertips scroll down to one name.

... Gavin

As such... MC has chosen her player for the game and Gavin's Heart Trial with MC's family commences...

---Press Start---

Creativity Test

Unluckily Gavin actually shows up for this highly important date late, with his phone off! From the storyline he arrives a couple of minutes late to MC’s aunt's place, thus starting the game one point behind. He was late because he was buying presents for the whole family! With the spot on gifts which are well received by the family because they're expensive, imported goods, limited products, cute and thoughtful he makes up for the lost points.

But it's just the first stage and he has 3 more stages to clear, the pressure is slowly rising.

This gray suit has a lovely story behind it, which you can find by the end of the story.

Decision Test

Gavin has passed the creativity test with flying colors, but in the second stage more challenging questions are on the menu. The eldest aunt wants to know Gavin's age, occupation, salary(?!) and possessions(?!). The last two questions are fairly over the line and is a no-no in my country. Asking people about their financial status as well as bragging about it is perceived as rude and insolent, that's why the way Gavin answers these questions skillfully without bragging about his wealth adds just another brick on my Gavin-temple.

Age: 24

Occupation: Police Officer

Salary: Covers the bills

Possessions: A flat in the city and a motorcycle.

In my Prank date analysis, I've mentioned about Gavin's ability to deal with impertinence and also here, he stays friendly, but only answers the questions necessary to get through with the situation. MCs family is checking whether he's wealthy enough to take care of MC (which is sad that in the 21st century that in some countries women need to be financially secured by men). So Gavin just gives them just the right enough of information to pass the test and pass he does.

There is another aspect to his way of answering though. You see, Gavin is an unmaterialistic man. He doesn't care about money or any other meta. He doesn't touch upon the fact that he's coming from a wealthy family, or that he inherits his grandparents house or that he can afford designer dresses, overseas travels or gems without giving a second thought. That shows just how humble Gavin is and I love him for it. What defines him is not his wealth, nor does he allow anyone define him on his financial status. It's his character, the values he stand for, the vision he embodies, the way he treats MC.. Ehm.. And.. His champion body and drop dead gorgeous looks (comes as an extra;))

But the game is far from over, because the family council is now going to challenge him on...

Affinity Test

This is where things get rosy as the family would like to know how they've met and whether they've been together since high school.

Look, Gavin is actually not playing a game, but living the moment. He is well aware of the fact that once he and MC become an official pair, he will be standing on the same spot a year later. He is serious...

So when they ask about their affection, he gives them his genuine answer and confesses his crush on her during high school and says that they've been going out since fall. This dazzles MC, as if she hasn't been dazzled enough lol.

The three glasses of drink he gulps surely has a role in this sincerity and taking three glasses of a drink as a punishment also becomes a tradition for MC and Gavin in the future.

And so, he proudly passes the Affinity Test with flying colors, effortlessly. Only one more stage and he's done it!

Execution Test

Every hero has his moment, when the fight takes a gloomier turn against his favor and the odds don't look good as before when he gets a strong blow, that is when the family hits him with the question "Don't you get alone well with your family?".

This is Gavin's weak spot, his cryptonite, his bleeding wound and MC's family just pressed on it. What makes this scene so heartbreaking is not just the topic itself and we know why it is a sensitive topic for Gavin but also that Gavin actually tries to signal them that this is not his favorite topic. He tells them he doesn't go home for holidays (friendly warning number 1), the aunties pushes by telling him to take some meal with him to which he replies "Thanks, but that's okay. I've been away for a long time" (friendly warning number 2) the family pushes further and as a one last resort he tells them that during college he rarely went there and spent holidays working afterwards (friendly warning number 3). Sadly the auntie than ignorantly ask whether his family doesn't worry about him and now because he's given three fair warning shots which, he downright gives them a brief and resolute answer:

- No.

That's usually the latest where people with common sense stop digging in further. Unfortunately then the auntie asks whether he doesn't get along well with his family to which Gavin no longer responds. This is the perfect way of dealing with such people and Gavin has a very intuitive talent for dealing different people from different mindsets. Give them three friendly and fair warnings, still pushing? Then give them a last chance by one final brief and to the point answer, they choose to ignore the signal? Stop interacting, you can only waste time beyond this point.

The only problem with this situation here, is that these people are not just somebody, Gavin wants to win these people over, so he cannot just ignore them. But also he cannot do it without a timeout, so he goes to grab some wine. (God it makes me so sorry everytime he has to face his family drama or is misjudged. I just wanna hug him bring him hot cocoa, give him a backrub and bring spicy food for him. Luckily he has MC ^_^)

But let's not talk only about about Gavin, because MC is struggling too. And we should recognize her stick up for him with the most cherishing words:

-Auntie, you got it wrong. He is a decent and pure man and has come to my aid many time and in quite dangerous circumstances.

When she comes back however cannot find Gavin, once she does, a heartwarming moment blooms between them.

This scene is very crucial in Gavin and MC's relationship because this is the first time MC sees Gavin tired and flustered. She feels sad for him but also happy for herself, for she feels as though she gets closer to him, thus seeing the real Gavin. By the way she show him her genuine care, Gavins heart melts and kisses the back of her hand as a gesture and so the first intimate moment involving them having a kiss ensues. Furthermore, they show each other their mutual care, which brings them one step closer and this gives Gavin the only courage he needs to tackle the situation.

When our hero gets the courage and the stamina he need from his girl, nothing can stop him now. Having gatherer his strength, Gavin returns to the dinner table:

“I am so happy to be here with you all today. In fact, I haven't felt this atmosphere of family in a long time. I have a very strict father and a brother I seldom see...I don’t even know when I turned into such a loner. Eating alone, sleeping alone, doing everything alone...until I met her. It was a beautiful autumn day. The gingko leaves were floating in the wind. I was also going through a pretty dark time. But she saved me before I hit bottom...It’s she who told me I could live a stronger life. And it’s also she who told me I could live a more tender life. I never felt lonely before, until I met her. I started to get used to star-gazing with her, having dinner with her, spending the New Year’s with her. In the future, I'll give it my all to stay with her, to take good care of her and love her. I wanna make up many times over for all the times I wasn't there”

MC’s heart stopped, aunties eyes teary, the elder Aunt want his actions to back up these words and thus Gavin has a pass from MC's family. Now that he's won the game, it's time to collect his prize.

After they leave MC's aunt's house, our lovebirds walk together in the night full of fireworks and Gavin tells Mc that Minor has mentored him on being the perfect son-in-law, hence he was late. He also asks her what she would do if he didn't show up, to which she says that her intuition says that he won't fail her and he murmurs quietly:

- I've waited a long time for today.

Of course he doesn't repeats himself when MC asks him about what he just said. But that's what kept him going all night long.

He has waited for six whole years to meet her again, to stand by here, take good care of her and love her. Tonight, he could do them all by being her "boyfriend", giving his word to her family and having their blessings. He could see that she also cares a lot for him, worries about him and wants to be there for him. He landed his lips for the first time on her delicate skin and could give her warmth.

He could finally confess his feelings for her and say the genuine things he will only say to her.

So yes, he has waited for a long time for this moment to come and when it came, he made sure to grab it tightly.

----—----—---

Timeline issues:

- The order of the dates in the game doesn't always reflect the real course of events. The grey suit that Gavin wears is actually bought after Romantic Date, which takes place after this date.

-Even though MC plans this whole game to avert blind dates, but she still gets set up later on a blind date by another aunt lol.

Thank you once again for your patience nonny and I hope that the analysis proves to be worthy of your wait 💗

Masterlist

For MC's confession let me take you here

For Gavin and MCs relationship milestones here

For a fun trivia about this date you can click here

[mashedpotittiess]

Arrangements Ch 1

Title: Arrangements. Chapter Title: It’s just a little crush.

Pairing: Lim Sejun x Reader. Mentions of Choi Byungchan and non mentions of Do Hanse, Heo Chan, Kang Seungsik, Han Seungwoo and Jun Subin as well as OC’s.

Summary: He was the aggravating fuckboy roommate of your best friends but maybe that’s what caused you to agree to such an arrangement. But will the arrangement work out? Between mutual friends, his other hookups and a certain romantic interest on your part, this could all be trouble.

Words: 6,500

Rating: PG13 but will eventually become M

Genre for this Chapter: College! au, Angst.

Tags/Warnings: Drinking, Mentions of sexual scenarios, mentions of possible drug use (a roofie), Mentions of someone possibly wanting to take advantage of someone (While Nothing happens I need to put this as a warning as it can trigger some past experiences readers have had)

Fic Series inspired Playlist Link:

Taglist: @a-mess-of-fandoms @dnyad

——————————-

You hated Lim Sejun and his band of one night stands. Before anybody assumes it’s a case of “oh she has it bad for him and she’s just jealous” you were in no way into him like that and in no way jealous of the Grey haired man you dubbed ‘FookBoi’ nor his female companions. He simply cramped your style.

When he moved into your best friends apartment as a third roommate you thought you’d have the same dynamic with your friends that you had had for about a year before his sudden appearance. But you were sorely mistaken.

It was Friday night and you had your body sprawled over the deep grey fabric of the couch with your sock covered feet lying on your best friend Do Hanses blanket covered lap. Byungchan had occupied the black leather like single seat to your right and you all were currently debating on whether or not twins were creepy. The debate brought to you by you all watching The Shining once again.

“How could you even think twins are creepy? It’s clearly just the matching outfits with the head tilting that eludes to the creepy factor” you were thrown into a fit of laughter as Hanse imitated the twin’s expression when Johnny first saw them, his lip ring glinting in the soft shadows of the single lit lamp to his right. Byungchans dimples were on full display as he couldn’t help but laugh as well. You really did try not to blush at his adorable face. You had a thing for one of your best friends and you couldn’t help it, your small crush had existed for around 8 months are you knew it was a matter of time before it was known.

You were admiring his soft contours of his face down to his defined jawline and back up to lip plump lips curled upward around his teeth as his focus was still on Hanses face when the front door slammed open causing you three to jump in surprise. Hanse grabbed your feet as if to use your unicorn print covered appendages to shield himself from the big scary monster he assumed had not only come through his front door but also used a key.

As you tore your gaze away from the man you had been admiring you looked up to see Lim Sejun walking passed the back of the couch with some blonde traipsing her body on his ebony leather jacket covered shoulder. He threw you a smirk as he had undoubtedly witnessed your admiration for his roommate. “Enjoy your movie” was all that left his lips before you heard a woman’s giggle and the closing of his door followed by a hard thump.

Pulling your feet back to your body you crossed your soft cotton short covered legs and snatched a fist full of buttery salty popcorn from the shared bowl in the center of the dark wooden coffee table situated in front of you. Hanse pulled the off white blanket closer to his body and used a black nail polish covered finger to press play on your movie. As you took another bite full of popcorn your munching was cut short by a woman moaning a loud “Unngh yes Daddy” Choking on the salty kernels your face took on a sour expression and you turned to see Hanse grimace and Byungchan blush a bright crimson followed by a shake of his head.

The sounds of what started as a soft mumbling were turning into a shrieking of sorts causing you and your best friends to stand up together and make a beeline to Hanses bedroom. You all knew it would be no use to higher the television to try and drown out the sounds of pleasure the two people in the room next to the living room were feeling. Clutching your beloved popcorn and fizzy coke you settled yourself in the middle of the light blue jersey sheet covered bed. Hanse with the fuzzy blanket from the living room took up the space to your right and Byungchan settled himself on your left, his long legs sprawled out, his green and yellow parakeet printed socks causing you to smile softly.

With a few clicks of the remote the movie had been ready to be continued but before you could immerse yourself into the infamous “Redrum” scene, Hanse decided to look you straight in the eyes and with an obnoxiously loud screech he let out a “ HOOOYAH D A D D Y.” His eyes rolling back into his skull. Fake gagging you shook your head and slapped his tattoo covered shoulder over his thin tank top. “I fucking hate you sometimes.”

Curling yourself into your oversized hoodie you got comfortable with both of your best friends, settling yourselves once again into weekly movie night. As the movie played you were brought back to what had just happened in the living room. While this certainly wasn’t the first time your plans were ruined by Mr ‘Fookboi’ himself, it still irked you. You knew this wasn’t your apartment and you had no say what happened around here but you missed the fun times you three had had without the possibility of hearing ridiculously loud sex take over the three bedroom apartment at any time of the day or night.

Hell, before Sejun moved in, the boys had shared an apartment with a man named Seungsik. He was genuinely nice and even joined in for a couple of your movie nights. It was peaceful and the only loud banging happened in the apartment was when Hanse attempted to make cookies and the clanging of pots and pans that most certainly weren’t used in baking resounded throughout the shared space. But that peace was cut short when Seungsik accepted a study abroad opportunity and Sejun occupied his space.

You spent about 4 days out of the week here and you swore there was a new female face that accompanied Sejun almost every one of those days for the passed six months that he had been living here. You were in no way sex shaming him as you believed everyone can do whatever they wanted with their own bodies but his choice in woman was sometimes infuriating. They held no respect that this was a shared apartment and it showed.

From the Brunette last week who had walked around in nothing but a towel while you helped Hanse study for his Psych midterm to the Blonde the week prior that you caught using YOUR purple toothbrush that you had left in one of the two bathrooms for nights you slept over. Like who the fuck uses a toothbrush that isn’t theirs? As you had taken in her party dress which you assumed she had been wearing earlier in the night when she followed Sejun to his room passing you and Byungchan grimacing over Hanses attempt at baking  muffins, covered frame and her makeup smudged eyes, your eyes narrowed in on your toothbrush between her pink stained lips.

“Excuse me, that’s my toothbrush” you said with a grimace on your face as she leaned down to spit the toothpaste that had been sloshing in her mouth into the sink, the white fluid making its way down the drain. “hmm? oh here” was all she replied before placing the toothbrush in your palm. It still had toothpaste on it and it took everything in you to not throw the toothbrush at her and go full on hulk mode.

Then there was the Red head a few days ago that you knew as Cynthia from your shared Calculus class. You had been making dinner for your best friends that had been having a difficult school week. Walking into the apartment with the the bags full of groceries using your key the boys had given you, you set the canvas bags onto the white counter before organizing them into piles of what needed to be made in order from first to last. Pulling together the pots and pans you needed your thoughts were interrupted by a high pitched whine and the sounds of a bed thumping against a wall. Glancing towards the door you saw what appeared to be a woman’s taupe coat. Shaking your head you let out a disgusted ‘gross’ and pulled up your Spotify playlist hoping it would drown out some of the sounds coming from the occupied bedroom.

Throwing the tomatoes and onions into a pan you let them sauté until they were caramelized and got started on putting together the garlic butter for the fresh baked french bread you scored at the grocery store. Grooving to your music, you went along with your chopping of vegetables for the salad followed by dumping a box of penne into the salted water you had prepared. Spreading the herby garlic spread onto the soft doughy bread you plopped it into the oven and checked your pasta.

‘Buss it Buss it Buss it Buss it’ came through the speaker of your phone and you let your body do a little twerk as you plated the penne a la vodka, salad and finally the warm garlic bread fresh from the oven, turning around you checked to make sure everything was turned off and grabbed your phone to check the time. “They should be home soon” you mused and poured yourself a glass of ice water. ’Is you FUCKIN’ yelling the fuckin part you wiggled your hips as you sipped your water and turned around when the sound of crunching put a halt in your boppin.

Your jaw twitched as you took in the Red head leaning against the island counter with a piece of garlic bread between her smeared lipstick covered lips. The smell of roasted garlic and tomato sauce hung in the air as you stepped towards the female eating the food you had just made.

“That food isn’t for you, you do know it’s rude to just eat what someone else had made without asking right?” you furrowed your brows at her and extended a hand towards the rest of what you had plated up. Leaning her head against her left palm she licked her lips clean of what looked like breadcrumbs and smiled. “Aww, were you making a meal for Sejunnie? if so, I can assure you this won’t get him into your pants, not when he has a lady like me right here. But it’s cute that you tried.” Opening your mouth ready to ask her what the literal fuck she was talking about, Cynthia moved her elbow along the counter followed by a ‘oops’ and a shrug of her shoulder.

Looking down at the tray that had skidded across the wooden floor when her elbow knocked down your garlic bread just milliseconds ago you let out an annoyed “are you fucking kidding me?” Looking unaffected, Cynthia shrug her pale pink covered shoulders at you and licked her index finger of what looked like garlic butter. Leaning down with a bend of your knees you started to pile the bread you now had to throw out onto the faux marble tray that balances itself in your left hand. You grit your teeth stopping yourself from saying much else knowing that it wouldn’t do a thing. Knees knocking against the floor as you reached for a piece that had gone under the counter, before you could grasp it between your deep purple nail polished fingers, a pale hand reached out and placed it down onto your tray.

Looking up your eyes met Sejuns light grey contact covered gaze and you shook your head head towards the woman he had just been fucking. “Some company you keep” you mumbled to him before standing up, lavender slipper covered feet coming into contact with the dark wooden floor. As the door clicked open you were met with an enthusiastic“y/n did you cook? your’e the BEST.” Hanse stepped through the threshold of the open plan kitchen and took in the scene. You with a tray of what looked like garlic bread, a furious gaze in your eyes, Sejun with his hand extended towards you and a red head smacking her lips along a napkin.

“Um what happened?” left Hanses lips as you tossed the food that had been in your hand into the trash and got to work looking for the swiffer they kept in a linen closet close to the kitchen. Your ears picked up on what sounded like Sejun saying out a soft yet firm “I called you an uber, they’re here already” followed by a sickeningly sweet “But Sejunnie we could spend more time together.” Rolling your eyes you entered the kitchen once again and wiped the wet wipe along the grease covered floor. “Domestic, cute” Looking up you stepped towards the red haired female ready to throw hands. You were beyond tired of her shit and weren’t going to take anymore. She fucked with food, precious FOOD.

“I told you to leave already” Sejun grabbed Cynthias elbow and guided her towards the front door. “But, ugh fine. Call me later?” she asked and he just shrugged his shoulder while walking her to the elevator.

Angrily throwing the swiffer pad into the trash you thrust the mop to Hanse to put away and bounded to the sink to wash your hands. “I fucking can’t stand people like her, Sejun needs to filter out the bitches from his list of hookups. I swear to god dealing with someone like her is not worth getting your dick wet.” You shouted and Hanse pat your back.

Byungchan’s soft head of hair leaning on your shoulder brought you back to reality and you sighed shaking the thoughts of Sejuns hookups out of your mind to focus on the movie that was almost finished. Looking to your left you smiled softly at the dimpled boys sleeping face. Hanse shifted on you right to pull his blanket closer to his body.

While Hanse was still awake you knew it would be a few minutes before he completely passed out like the sweetheart to your left had. Sitting up carefully you leaned Byungchans head onto a pillow and brought the comforter up his body while Hanse curled into himself mumbling a “you can sleep here or take Channies bed.” Shaking your head you let him know you’d be taking the couch as you tucked the bowl of kernels under your arm and balanced two glasses between your fingers of your fight hand as you maneuvered your way out of his room and to the kitchen. The soft lighting over the stove illuminated your trek to the kitchen and you spotted Sejun in a pair of joggers and an oversized pale blue t shirt sipping a glass of what looked like water.

Moving passed him you dumped the remnants of the kernels into the trash and carefully plopped the dishes into the sink to his right. To your left his eyes followed your movements as you cleaned up. “I’m sleeping on the couch so if you’re going for round two with whatever her name is, please keep it down.” you grumbled without looking at him and you made your way to the couch you had spent many a nights on. From the open kitchen you heard him shift as he placed the glass he had been drinking out of into the sink. “She left already, goodnight y/n” he responded and walked the few steps to his room, his door softly closing behind him and you shut your eyes, pulling the blue blanket that had been on the end of Hanses bed and you had snatched, closer to your body letting sleep overtake your tired brain.

The smell of sizzling bacon and warm butter invading your nostrils sending your senses in an uproar and your body to slowly open your eyes. Sitting up you still clutched the blanket you had been using tight around your body in a makeshift cocoon. Gaze scanning the kitchen behind the couch you were sitting on you watched as Sejun joked with Hanse while preparing the bacon that was sizzling in the pan below him. Hanse was mixing up more pancake batter and Byungchan was finishing a flip on the duo of cakes bubbling up in the pan he had been working with.

You could almost curse your stomach as an obscenely loud grumbled was heard in the open space causing all three boys to turn around and take in your messy bun that more like a turd flopping atop your head and your mascara slightly smudged under your eyes. Raising your left hand into what looked like a small wave you heard Hanse laugh loudly causing you to smile. “The Princess is awake” with a stern look in your eyes his smiled widened “I forgot y/n hates being called Princess, EHEM my queen.” Standing up you stretched your arms over your head and arched your back hearing the muscles pop from lying in the same position for too long.

Trudging towards the bathroom, you abandoned the blanket on the kitchen island on your way there. As you took in in your appearance in the bathroom mirror while you let the water warm you shrugged. Your best friends had seen you look a lot worse.

As you smoothed the foaming cleanser onto your hands and over your face you let out a soft sigh in content. Reaching into the cabinet under the sink you pulled your small body of makeup remover you had stashed there and massaged it onto your eyes to cleanly remove any remnants of eye makeup. Letting the warm water rinse your face of all impurities you got to work on bushing your teeth with your N E W purple toothbrush.

Letting your hair loose from its turd like confines, you softly ran what you knew as Hanses brush over your locks and shuffled back into the kitchen after your bathroom escapades were done with.

Tucking your hair behind your ears you poured yourself a glass of cold OJ and watched as the men finished with their Gordan Ramsey like cosplay of cooking. Giggling to yourself as the visual of Gordan Ramseys face on your friends bodies overtook you.

When you noticed the boys were just about done preparing the food you pulled plates from the cabinet and paired them with silverware for all four persons. A comfortable silence surrounding the room as you all piled your plates with food and made your way to the dining table to the left of the kitchen.

“Thanks for the food” you smiled out while cutting into your fluffy pancakes earning a wide from Hanse, a smile from Byungchan and a nod of your welcome from Sejun. Plopping a piece into your mouth you almost moaned at the warm syrupy goodness that coated your tongue, you could take the vanilla Hanses flavored the cakes with.

For the most part you all had ate in silence with the exception of Sejun and Byungchan talking about the college Basketball team Byungchan was on.

You had offered to do the dishes in repayment for the delicious breakfast the boys had cooked up and joined in on the conversation that took place in the living room when you had finished. Settling yourself on the cushion next to Hanse you let him ruffle your hair and leaned your head on his shoulder.

Hanse was like the brother you never had, you had known him since your first year of college, you small body nervous as all hell when you walked into your first Literature class of the year. Sitting next to you he had struck up a conversation when he took in the crescent moon earring dangling from your double helix piercing on your right ear.

From then on you all had become great friends, you had liked the same music and enjoyed some of the same aesthetics. A couple of months later you all had stumbled upon Byungchan at a frat party and a conversation about Liquor vs Beer ensued in the comfort of the lit kitchen. Before you knew it you all had drug your asses to waffle house for 4am food to nourish your alcohol filled bodies. You both becoming fast friends with the tall teddybear of a man.

A year later and the two men rented an apartment together inspired by the fact that you had been living in an apartment with your roommate since the middle of your freshman year. They had invited you to be their third roommate but you were on a multi-year lease and to be honest, you didn’t mind your roommate. You loved your friends but you liked being able to come home when you needed alone time or just girl time. Lately you had been spending more time at your best friends house due to your roommate having her boyfriend over a lot more before he graduated later this year and you wanted to give them alone time.

Musing to yourself on how grateful you were for their friendship you took in the effortless conversation between all three men. You knew they had been friends with Sejun for sometimes prior to him moving in but you hadn’t really taken in how friendly they were all with each other. You had to admit it put the moving mattress of a man in a new light.

“Favorite Nirvana song..3..2…1.” Hanse blurted out. All together four answers were heard at once “Lithium” you heard Hanse shout which you had already known. “All Apologies” Byungchan smiled and “Come as you are!” you and to your surprise Sejun yelled at once. “oof we have a tie.” Hanse said followed by a “Okay, okay.. Favorite BEYONCE song 3…2…1”

“Wait wait, Beyonce solo or Destinys Child included cause that’s a whole other convo” you added in before anybody could answer before taking a sip of your ice water and roaming your feet into the blanket you had been using. “Solo Beyonce” Hanse answered before shouting his countdown once again.

“Crazy in love OG version” Hanse shouted, “Formation” was Byungchans answer. “Irreplaceable” Sejun answered while tilting his head onto his palm with his elbow resting on the arm of the couch to your left. “If I were a boy” you smiled at the lyrics invading your thoughts. “But seriously Yonce is a fucking icon and you can’t just pick one song, that’s like ILLEGAL!” you added which earned claps from your best friends and a genuine smile from Sejun causing you to cock an eyebrow at his dimples cheeks.

The familiar ding of your phone signaled a text and you entered your password into the drive while vaguely listening to what the three men were talking about. Sending a message in reply to your friend and classmate Haley you tossed your phone back onto the coffee table in front of you and leaned back onto the comfy cushions behind you. “Oh shit y/n I almost forgot! Heo Chan’s frat is having a party tonight and i’m making you come with” The inky haired man to your right said with a clap of his hands, his rings clanking against each other. “Oddly enough that’s what Haley was texting me about and I already agreed to go with her since i’m obviously the best wingman ever. I also love how you weren’t planning on giving me a choice on going.”

“I wasn’t giving you a choice because I knew you couldn’t say no to this face” with a pucker of his pink lips, Hanse folded his fingers under his chin leaning closer to your face in a mock pout. Rolling your eyes you flick his slightly exposed forehead with a painted index finger. “Yeah yeah yeah.”

“Byungchannies going too and I think Sejun may show up too” Hanse added and you nodded. You knew Byungchan would go, with him being good friends with Chan and Seungwoo from Lambda Tau Nu or VTN for short. Sejun going came as no shock to you either knowing the amount of girls that would be wanting him to go with them and of course leave with them as well.

Checking the time on your apple watch linked onto your wrist with its black leather strap, you stood up throwing the blanket that kept your legs warm onto Hanses lap and grabbed your phone while looking for your slippers you had worn there. It was a little passed two in the afternoon and you knew you need to go home, shower and then later prep for the party. “Imma head out to freshen up, see you later. Hanse you picking me up?” with an of course heaving your best friends mouth you left the comfort of the three mens apartment and heading off to your own.

Smoothing your warm vanilla and rose body oil over your freshly shaven legs you checked your phone noting you had a little over an hour to finish getting ready before Hanse and byungchan would be pounding on your door. You had just finished pulling your black satin bra and panty set when your doorbell sounded off. Wrapping your fluffy white robe close to your body you opened the door to a smiling Haley who was carrying what you presumed to be her “getting ready shit” and a bottle of Svedka.

“Pre game sweets” she said when she caught you glancing down to the bottle clutched between her fingers. With a slight smile and a shake of your head, you both headed towards your room to finish getting ready.

Checking her ass in the mirror, Haley gave a little booty jiggle in her skin tight taupe body con dress that accentuated her deep mocha colored skin. You had just finished styling your straight hair with some silkening gloss when Hanses called signaling them leaving their apartment and heading towards yours. Sliding your feet into your black suede high heeled ankle booties you smacked your medium toned nude lipstick covered lips and followed Haley into the kitchen.

When the boys got there Haley demanded a pre game shot and you all but obliged. With a slam of the clear shot glass onto the faux marble counter you all headed out, following Hanse to his small Silver SUV.

Pulling up to the long street of parked cars in front of the VTN house you shook your head at the seemingly already drunk couples making out in the bushes and a half naked guy running down the lawn with a V painted onto his chest in what looked like red lipstick.

Entering through the oak double doors behind Byungchan you squeezed his shoulder as he maneuvered you all through the crowded entrance. Settling on a quieter side of what you knew from a few parties here as the living room, Byungchan excused himself to bring you all some drinks and you surveyed the area you were in. A couple of kegs were a few feet to your left where some guy you recognized as Subin was performing a keg stand. The two couches and coffee table were pushed closer near a wall where the stairs leading to the second floor bedrooms was to make the makeshift dance floor where bodies were rhythmically shaking the hips. Behind you to your right was the brightly lit kitchen when bottles lined the counters and bags of chips were strewn everywhere.

As you surveyed the kitchen you noticed Byungchan talking to a girl you knew as Emi. Byunchans dimples were on full display as he laughed at whatever she had been saying causing a soft bloom of rose to flush onto her pale cheeks. Leaning down to stir her drink her light brown hair fell slightly over her face to which Byungchan leaned forward and swiped his fingers over her forehead and still blushing cheeks to tuck her shoulder length hair behind her right ear. Noticing your gaze, Hanse chimed in “Oooooooh is Channie finally making a move on Emi? He’s been into her for like a month now” Whipping your hair around towards the tattooed man your deep brown smokey eyeshadow covered eyes widened slightly.

“He what now? How did I not know about this?” Hanse furrowed his eyebrow at your seemingly upset look and Haley cleared her throat. Haley had been the only person who knew about your crush on your friend from a night of one too many Vodka Tonics and Tequila shots. “I only knew about it cause I caught him shooting her google eyes and I asked him what was up until he fessed up.. why do you look? wait..y/n did you?” With a tick of your jaw you shook you head pleading with him not to continue his question.

“Since when?” was all he asked and you softly told him the answer. “But it’s fine, I honestly didn’t think much would come from it. I wasn’t sure how our friendship and the dynamic would work if we ever got together” You ran your thumb along the hem of your black and deep green plaid skirt. “It’s for the best, I’m glad he looks happy.” you were being honest, you wanted your friends to be happy and that’s all that had mattered to you. Yes you were a little heart broken but it was better than him finding out about your crush and you getting rejected then, or you all getting together then later breaking up and you losing one of your best friends and Hanse being stuck in the middle of his two best friends.

With an are you sure? Hanse headed off to the kitchen when you nodded your head and sighed. “God you’re such a good person babe, I would’ve been like ‘HELL NO IM NOT OKAY I AM A HEARTBROKEN WOMAN ON THE VERGE OF A MELTDOWN’” Haley whisper screamed into your ear and you felt yourself smiling at her over dramatic theater kid self.

“Ugh Chan looks so good” biting her deep fuchsia colored lips Haley wiggled her eyebrows and you shook your head. You knew she was staring at his ass in those tight light wash jeans as he talked to Hanse and Byingchan in the kitchen.

“Oh shit he’s coming over here” Fluffing her black shoulder length curled hair Haley pushed her boobs out by straitening her back causing you to giggle and accept the drink Hanse handed you. “Hey Haley hey y/n” Chan smiled causing adorable dimples to grace his cheeks. ‘Do all these men have dimples or what?’ you thought and shook your head slightly.

With a hello and a thank you for invited us you let Haley grab all of Chans attention with a conversation about Musicals. Hanse caught on to what you were doing and stepped further away from the two, taking you with him.

You had been talking to Hanse about Haley and Chan when Byungchan stepped in front of you both with Emi right behind him. “Hey guys, this is Emi” Hanse smiled and gave her a little wave. Suppressing your urge to be jealous and petty you took a deep breath and nodded towards her “Hi” leaving your lips. As Byunghcan talked to you both about how sweet Emi was and how they had been talking but it hadn’t been anything serious, you gripped your glass in your right hand and tilted your head back drinking all of its contents in one go. The familiar warm burn of alcohol siding down your throat and distracting you from Byuns dimples as he spoke so highly of the female clutching onto his right arm.

Taking in the girls pale blue satin liken dress and beige sweater handing off of her arms you had to admit she seemed nice, very demure and soft spoken but nice. “You’re so pretty, Byungchan didn’t do you justice when he told me about his best friends” Emi genuinely smiled at you and you thanked her. Needing a refill of your drink you excused yourself and headed towards the kitchen.

Setting your glass on the counter you got to work mixing Rum and a splash of coke. Taking your first sip you nodded and hummed at the taste. If you were going to deal with your crush and best friend finding a girlfriend you definitely needed something strong. Taking another sip you leaned your hip against the counters and slowly moved your head in a circle to relieve the tension you had been building up. You felt your body starting to heat up from the amount of bodies in the house and the alcohol flowing freely through your veins as you finished your second drink with a long chug.

Shrugging your oversized medium blue denim jacket off of your shoulder you looked for a suitable place to hide it from partygoers. Situating your jacket behind bottles of soap under the sink you made a note on your phone letting you know where you hide it in case you forgot and needed to retrieve it the next day.

Pouring yourself another drink you capped the Rum when you were done and sighed as the breeze from the overhead vent licked against your skin in your black crop top and plaid skirt. “Damn, now that’s a drink” came from your left causing your to look up with an arch of one of your eyebrows. Liam Martinez stood in front of you with a smile of his pearly whites and you couldn’t help but smile back. You recognized the Wide Receiver of your college football as you shared a literary course with him. You actually also shared that class with Sejun as well.

“Want one?” you asked with a smile to which he shifted closer to you and handed you his red cup. “Yes ma’am” you opened the same bottle you had been using and started pouring it into his glass, followed by a splash of the open coke to your right. Scooping a bit of ice from the bag in the sink into his glass you handed it back to him which he accepted gratefully.

“So, what’re you doing here? or better question, why are you drinking alone in a kitchen full of bottles?” Leaning your hip against the counter you quirked you lip slightly over you glass. “Well if anybody was drinking wouldn’t it be better to drink in a room full of bottles?” Chuckling at your retort Liam placed a hand on the counter and sipped his drink waiting for you to continue. “But if you must know, I finished my drink my friend made me and came to make another, plus they were having a convo I didn’t really feel like being a part of” you let the last bit slip out with a shrug of your shoulders.

With a ‘hmm’ in acknowledgment you two started a pretty nice conversation about your shared class and the frat house you were currently in which Liam had been a part of. Feeling the buzz flowing through your body you accepted his offer when he asked you to dance.

With your hand tucked into his you made your way to the dance floor and wrapped your arms around his neck as the music thumped around you. Settling his hands on your hips he pulled you closer to him, swaying your bodies to rhythm of the bass. Under the soft lights in the dark living room Liams light brown hair shined. Liams hands trailed up and down your hips, eventually turning you around pulling your back into his white t shirt and blue plaid covered chest feeling his muscles rippling against your back.

Leaning your head back onto his chest you ground your hips back into his and smirked. The alcohol coursing through your veins lending confidence to your dance moves as your began to grind with him in the middle of the other swaying dance partners crowding the space.

Another song came to a finish and you felt your body heating up tremendously. With a huff of air escaping your parted semi glossy lips, you knew you needed water and as Liams fingers grazed up your left thigh you excused yourself telling him you’d be right back but he had insisted on going with you.

Reaching the kitchen you looked for a clean empty cup to be the vessel that you needed to quench your thirst and hopefully cool your body down. Liam handed you an opaque red cup from the stack of downturned cups and you poured yourself some water from the fridge and took a long sip relishing in the fresh cool liquid cooling your body down and causing a small shiver.

“Hey can you pass me a coke from the fridge?” The taller man in font of you asked as you were closer to the fridge than he was and you nodded thinking nothing of it. Opening the metal fridge you looked around on the middle shelf before your eyes landed on the signature red cans, plucking one from the shelf you turned and stepped your way back to Liam, handing it to him which caused him to smile his pearly whites in return.

“Hold on, did he just drop something in y/ns glass?” Hanse voiced out while putting a black nail polished hand up in a stop motion after his eyes had zeroed in on the man in question drop something that looked like a small white circular pill into your drink. Earlier in the night Sejun had been talking to Hanse when they both noticed you dancing with Liam, he couldn’t quite place where he knew him from but after Hanse voiced what he had just seen, he remembered a girl he had hooked up with a couple of weeks ago said that after she had hooked up with Liam about a week prior. She had been looking for her shorts and found what looked like roofies on the floor in a bag under his bed. Sejun had asked why she didn’t report him to which she just shrugged and said Liam hadn’t done anything to her and she wasn’t sure that’s what they were so she wasn’t going to start trouble.

With a narrow of his eyes he peeled Tashas hand from around his torso and bounded off into the kitchen following Hanses fast steps towards your figure holding a red cup smiling up towards the tall figure in front of you.

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ANNNND chapter 1 is done! I’m going to try to update this pic every week but i can’t make any promises as i’m also writing a Jungkook Magic/au fic series.

I hope you enjoyed the read and pls let me know of any errors you come across as this is partially unedited and i don’t have a Beta reader or anything of the sort. ILY

-C/Potittiess

[lune-hime]

Garden of Tulips (Levi/Reader) Chapter 7

~Click me for more chapters~

“What did it look like?”

“Hmm?” Levi looked up from his place next to your sleeping form. “The titan that tried to snack on my darling granddaughter.” “Ugly as fuck.” “Aren’t they all?”

Levi recounts memories of the reader and their shared life together while she recovers from a serious injury.

!!WARNINGS!! - Violence, gore, smut, wholesome content ;)

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Tulipa esperanto ~ A tulip whose flaming petals sprout from a lush green base, signaling growth and the washing away of lingering burdens.

↞↠↞↠↞↠

“Thank you both for waiting! I’m just about done.” Felicia chimed from the stove as Levi entered the house. The pleasant smell of fried bread and pork mingled with the freshness of the tulips to create a scent he could only describe as being homey.

“We had no choice but to be occupied.” Oma grumbled from the dining room, one of the spaces Levi had yet to explore. He wandered into the kitchen after removing his shoes and observed Felicia’s bustling and extremely organized methodology. The pan bopped to the rhythm of her wrist while the kettle whistled in melodic time.

“It’s a shame we didn’t have time for tea. We’ll do it after we eat, then.” Oma called, leaning on the doorway that connected the kitchen to the dining room. Levi nodded and clasped his hands behind his back as he awkwardly lingered on the sidelines of the culinary bustle. His languid gaze drifted to the many framed photos that hung on the only wall not covered with ornate gold trinkets or the weaving vines of plants. His eyebrows furrowed as he observed a common theme.

So many of these photos of you were with that hard headed, horse-faced pain in the ass. From what you had told Levi, you had no memory of life without Jean. That he, Oma, and Felicia had been the only constant presences in your life since you were a child. Why did he feel a pang of jealousy? That was a petty emotion.

Oma had placed delicate plaques at the bottom of each frame that accompanied the memory. Levi wouldn’t have pegged her as someone so sentimental.

First Day of Kindergarten

“We’re going to be late, mommy!!” You wailed as your legs jittered like an excited shore bird. Jean stood beside you and rolled his eyes as your anticipation made your connected arms wiggle like a cooked noodle.

“Yes, yes I know. If I could just get this thing-okay, all set, smile big cuties!” Your mother’s gentle voice sang as she clicked the shutter. Jean immediately got over his minor annoyance and the two of you beamed at the camera.

“Lumine, the school bell’s ringing.” Oma chided lightly at her daughter in law.

Levi adored how your wide grin looked too big to be contained by your tiny cheeks.

Noel

“Jean are you even eating in the corps? You look like a twig when you need to be looking like a sturdy branch.” Oma chided as she shuttled more spaetzle onto Jean’s plate. Jean breathed a nervous laugh at her blunt comment.

“Well their food isn’t as good as yours is, Oma.” Jean replied as he gratefully took the plate. You shuffled past the two of them in the busy kitchen to pour yourself a glass of spiced wine.

“Get on my level, noodle-boy.” You teased, bringing your free arm up and flexing your defined muscles as the other held the ladle of wine. Jean threw an arm around your shoulder and squeezed, demonstrating that his noodle arms held more power than they let on.

Felicia had clicked the shutter just as laughter bloomed on your faces and your glass looked dangerously close to spilling over in festive happiness.

Apple Picking

“Freyr, move a little over to the left.” Oma instructed her son. Freyr took a step sideways and bounced, causing you to fly upwards in glee from your resting place on his shoulders. You grasped the sides of his chin as you both grinned at the camera. Crows flew from the canopy of the lush apple orchard behind you.

Levi drank in the features of your father as if he was studying a work of art. He was very tall, strongly built, and had a charisma about him that Levi wagered is why he was so popular in the capital. He resembled more of a lumberjack than a government official. His jawline was hard, like it was curvetted by a steel knife. But his eyes held a softness just like your own.

When Levi’s eyes drifted to the last photo in the row, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He gulped as he let the contents of the picturesque scene sink in. The four individuals looked lively and ecstatic as they proudly showed off their record breaking salmon catch. Your father, Freyr, stood on the far right holding the fish’s head with a confident smirk. You, having to be around 12, stood next to him inwards. Your weak grip was feigning your support of the giant creature’s weight. To the far left your uncle Rall stood perched with the tail held to his chest as he wore a more modest smile than his brother-in-law. Levi felt his arteries clench around his throbbing heart when he gazed upon the girl only a few years older than you at your side. The sweetness of her expression poured icy flames onto Levi’s conscience.

Petra and Y/N’s Catch

Levi felt as if he were the fish in your hands; milky eyed and cold scaled. He was momentarily sent spiraling into his guilt.

“Jean has grown quite handsome now hasn’t he...” Felicia chirped. Levi blinked at the proximity of her bubbly comment as it punched him from his daze. She appeared at his side with their shoulders centimeters from touching.

“You’ve always liked younger men, haven't you?” Oma snickered as she rummaged through the cupboard.

“Hey! I’m not that old Frau Vogel.” Felicia justified with a playful pout. She turned on her heels to grab the dishes from Oma’s hold but was gently slapped away by the determined old woman.

“Yes but you’ve known the boy since he was fresh out of diapers.” Oma quipped back. “Now if you’re done viewing the art gallery of my life, we have dinner to eat.”

The dining room seemed to glow amber. The walls were dressed with a deep cherry wood, carved with grand scenes of folklore that Levi wasn’t familiar with. The table and chairs were no less intricately carved and were birthed of that same rich wood. The table was fit for a family of high standing, its length providing the space to entertain many guests.

Felicia had set the table so that the three of you were sitting close together, leaving a vast empty space for ghosts to join. Levi wondered what kinds of people used to sit there. He let his mind be tempted with that notion as he gradually checked out of the conversation.

If she used to sit there.

After their meal, Levi was left with that satisfactory warmth he felt the day before. He gave his shoulder a good stretch when Oma returned from clearing the dishes.

“How about sitting down with an old woman for tea now?” She said with a small smile.

“Sure.” Levi responded softly. Oma hummed and faded back into the kitchen.

“Felicia went to go check on Y/N and insisted on doing housework.” Oma explained as she gathered the tea time materials.

“So we have a bit of peace-and-quiet time.” She added as she placed two cups of beautiful ivory china on the tea tray next to the tin of Queen Mary leaves.

Oma led the way to the living room which, to his fading surprise, was just as intricately decorated as the rest of the house. Arched windows that stretched from the floor to the ceiling displayed the forest to the back of the estate while a grand fireplace framed with pale brick lay in front of the opposite wall. Artwork, photos, and momentos painted all the walls to give it a cozy atmosphere that Levi was still getting used to. Oma placed the tea tray on the coffee table and sat down on one of the long, plush settees. She patted the cushion and Levi joined her, taking a seat on the other end of the couch.

An arid silence passed by them as Oma delicately poured the tea into each cup. He was hyper aware now of his past choice during that expedition. Whether it was a mistake or not. He was painfully cognizant of his absence. Sure Levi was curt, at times off putting, and cautiously intense with people. But his immense guilt for what happened to his squad was an underlying and consistent fuel for his awkwardness around your grandmother. It remained attached to him like a fifth limb, a presence that was always lurking even at the smallest intensities. Your love helped, eventually filling the gaping hole that had been carved there. But a hole is still a hole, forever a crevasse that would be a permanent addition to his soul.

He was deeply afraid to bring it up. Afraid of digging into old wounds, afraid of facing more of her family, afraid that your grandmother would deem him unfit to protect you. To call it an elephant in the room was a severe understatement. The unspoken truth was more the size of a beached whale. He had stopped seeing their ghosts in his own shadow. But even now seeing the familial resemblance of her in Oma he suddenly couldn’t bear to meet her eyes.

“I don’t blame you, Levi.” She said as softly as the clank of the teapot returning to the tray. Levi’s insides seized but he maintained his composure. She leaned back into the cushions with a sigh. When she craned her head to meet his eyes, his gaze remained fixed on the lone tea cup on the tray.

“For Petra.” Her name fell off Oma’s lips with a delicateness that made Levi’s throat itch with impending shame. “I saw you looking at her photo.”

The itch expanded to an inflation that embedded his incoming breath into the folds of his esophagus.

↞♞♘↠

Your body shivered in the remnants of your hysterical cries. You wished the sadness could have been swept up in the powerful current of your tears but it clung to you like a jagged rock resting just under the rippling water’s surface. Her absence felt like a vital organ had been forcibly taken from your body and the thief hadn’t bothered to stitch you up properly.

“Levi-” You breathed, voice heavy with the aftermath of your latest breakdown. It felt like a tiring journey from the empty bedroom to his office.

Earlier you had held each other, wept with one another, and began grieving together. But as the hours grew on Levi had drawn more reclusive. He had evicted himself from the bed in your fatigue and had resigned to his office chair. The form that occupied the space you almost didn't recognize. He sat deeply reclined in the chair and allowed the material to swallow him. His head dangled limply off his right shoulder, clouded eyes looking at nothing and everything at once. The only sign of vitality in this lifeless shell was the small puffs of air that left his nose.

It was fresh. Painfully fresh. Like a band aid that had ripped off multiple layers of skin. But you needed him right now and you knew he needed you too. The sudden loss of Petra was boring into you. You couldn’t imagine that loss times three that he was experiencing.

“Please we need to talk.” You whimpered as you slowly padded towards his crumpled stature. His swollen eyes and bloodshot whites betrayed his marbled features. He was hesitant to reach for you, to hold you, to touch you. He was sure a part of you must have despised him. Through his own pulsations of pain he could see your own distress. He desperately wanted to be there for you, to wipe away all that ailed you. But how could he do that when he couldn’t even wipe the pain from himself? Especially when he had a hand in inflicting such devastation onto you.

He could never forgive himself for that. For what he did to any of you.

Yet when you unfurled his limbs, climbed into his lap, and encircled yourself into his embrace he exhaled and held you right back.

“Don’t hide from me.” You said with an insatiable quiver. You felt Levi’s arms loosen and begin to pull away as you rested your head in the crook of his neck.

“Please...don’t.” You pleaded, desperate for his comfort. You quickly grabbed his wrists and placed them back along your spine. Levi breathed in frustration but didn’t move to withdraw himself again.

“There’s nothing I can do to bring them back.” He stated with a hopeless gravel.

“I know.” You replied weakly. Levi’s shoulder tingled with fresh tears. He squeezed his eyes shut in self disdain when he began to feel your shaking.

“You must deteste me.” He hummed dryly as the obsessive images of his fallen squad drew more tears from him once more. Each time he thought he was done crying their lifeless bodies bombarded him with more waterworks.

“Levi-” You cried as a sob raked your body.

“How could you even stand to be around me after what I did?” Levi bitterly pushed out as he tasted the salty flow of droplets.

“Shut up!” You coughed, sitting straight up in his lap to look him in the eyes. Your emotions were short circuiting and your patience was running thin for his blame but you hadn’t intended for your reply to come out so aggressive.

Your hands pushed down on his chest as your eyes fluttered shut. You took a moment to take in a deep, albeit ragged, breath. When your eyes opened Levi was fixated on the floor. You grasped his head between your hands and rectified his deflated body.

Your movement forced him to look at you, the two of you exchanging expressions beaten-down by sadness and frustration.

Thinking of the words you were about to formulate spurred more pressure behind your eyes before you articulated them. What was left of Levi's composure fractured as he began to drown in your sorrowful orbs.

You brushed his cheek to keep the both of you from floating away like paper lanterns. You could have lost each other out there today as well as your many comrades and the smoothness of his skin against your thumb kept you in this reality.

This was not the time for conversation, you had already had that. Already had assured him that their passing wasn’t his fault. That, sure if he was there maybe things would have been different but that his actions didn’t dictate their deaths. Telling him again would only be beating a dead horse and cause you both more anguish. The two of you were too weak for that right now.

“You trust me.” You uttered those words as a statement without a hint of question.

Levi nodded instantly. The motion was anamatronic-esque as he struggled to stay afloat.

“I’m here.” You stated softly, taking his hand and placing it directly over your overworked heart. A wave of calm washed over him as he watched his palm move with the deep rhythm of your breathing.

“You’re here.” You continued with a sniffle. You placed your hand on his chest, sighing in comfort as he breathed life into your palm.

“And if we focus on the what if’s we’re going to be hopeless forever.” You spoke the words with vulnerability that betrayed their prowess.

That shattered him.

You watched as his face scrunched with all the emotion he had hid this morning. His brow sloped into his quivering lip and he let out a helpless yelp. He was always trying to not feel. But he could only feign numbness until it embedded itself into everything he did. The void he was carrying now overflowed with singeing emotion that he needed to feel.

For them.

For you.

For himself.

Seeing him so broken caused you to crack too. But for Levi, the gruesome scenes that were replaying on a brutal loop were dulled by the warmth of your hand on his chest, the welcome pressure of your thighs against his, and perhaps the most by your beautiful eyes that despite being ravaged by tears were like a shining beacon in the turbulent storm.

He removed your hand from his chest and took them into his own. He raised your hands to his lips and pressed salted kisses to them.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He croaked and intertwined his fingers with yours with such a force that his knuckles grew white. He begged for your forgiveness, bathed in your light to douse his sinful acts. For you must have been a saint to not have casted him out by now.

He kept apologizing because there was nothing else he could do. He lamented that he wasn’t quick enough. That their last moments were spent in agony and terror. That their deaths not only affected him but you as well.

Your limbs were entangled and foreheads were buried in shoulders for an uncountable amount of time. The two of you slowly dragged one another out of the suffocating mud of the expedition and into the present moment. When tears had dried and embraces grown less feverous, you spoke up.  

“Erwin is allowing me to go home for a few days.” You announced with a sad smile.

Levi hummed weakly as he ghosted his fingers along your scalp.

“Do you want to come with me?” Your invite hung on the air as Levi contemplated. He felt bad denying you but there was no way he would be able to face your family right now. That may have been selfish of him, but he just couldn’t.

He bit the inside of his cheek as you craned your neck to regard him. You understood his silence and nuzzled into his shoulder.

“Okay.” You kissed at the spot where his neck met his collarbone.

↞♞♘↠

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Was all that Levi could manage to say. He didn’t know how to make any apology enough for her grandchild’s absence. He felt disgust rise like bile in this throat all over again.

Oma nodded at his condolences and hid her lingering sadness behind seasoned professionalism.

“Thank you. I’m sorry to you too. You lost her just like the rest of us.” She responded with a mature kindness that made Levi want to poke his eyes out with self-loathing. If the loss hurt him beyond belief, he would never be able to know the extent of Oma’s pain, your pain, and Petra’s parents’ pain.

“I can see that you blame yourself.” Oma inferred with a caring tone. Levi’s hardened gaze remained on the table.

“I know what it’s like to lead a squadron. I know the helpless feeling of someone slipping through your fingers too quickly to catch them.” Oma consoled with a genuine seriousness that made Levi’s eyes flick up to hers. She sighed and placed her tea cup down.

Levi didn’t move as she scooched closer to place a hand over his. His fingers twitched at the calloused pads of her withered hand encircled his.

“It was one year into my promotion to a unit captain. I remember that day so vividly; the bitter smell of the canon smoke mixing with Hannes’ ripe gin, the way the wind gently rocked the trees just over wall Maria, the remnants of my throbbing hangover from the previous night’s excursions."

“I had ordered my unit to scale along the wall and raise the new cannons that had been provided the day prior while I joined Pixis at the guard post. We were having our daily banter when a thunderous quaking assaulted our ears and gave us whiplash with how fast we turned towards the wall. A hoard of titans, many of them abnormals, were rushing towards Wall Maria.”

“We had never experienced an attack so fierce, so alarmingly abrupt. My legs couldn’t carry me quickly enough to my unit before the fuckers started hurling themselves at the wall. The clash of skulls against the structure was deafening. Some of my soldiers decided to ascend, to fight them atop the wall and blast their brains out with the cannons. Others decided to take their chances at slashing their necks. However, the ladder couldn’t compete with the assault and soon their screams morphed into stains on stone.”

“After the attack, I too bashed my skull with guilt and regret. If only I had just waited to assign them to that job. What if instead, I told them to take care of the already positioned cannons. But would it have really made any difference? I’ve come to realize I couldn’t have ever anticipated a horror like that.” Oma’s eyes glazed over in sour memory.

“My point is, you can’t dwell on the what-ifs because that’s not how life went or ever will. You have to live with what life gives-and takes-from you.” Oma continued, holding Levi’s stare with one elderly compassion.

“You led them and inspired them to take action. Their sacrifices were just that; sacrifices they were willing to take for something they believed in.”

As she spoke, acute darts dripped in his squad’s long dried blood threatened to pierce the shield he had built up to their intrusions. But her kind words warded them off almost immediately and Levi felt more relieved than he could ever express to hear her sympathy.

“I’m sure you know it never truly goes away. But forgiving yourself for something that was out of your control dulls the sharpness of that blade.” She smiled flatly with soft eyes.

Listening to her story and feeling her presence sparked an understanding in Levi so deep that it felt foreign to him. It wasn’t the surface level sympathy usually set unto him by his comrades. Nor the solace and empathy you provided him. With Oma it was raw, unaltered. She had seemed to mine his soul and recover a luminous diamond out of the charcoal.

She brewed this sensation within him that peeled away the murky veil of his role of a steely captain. Underneath resided a more youthful soldier who still had much to conquer and learn. He realized he wasn’t actually as aged as he was required to act.

The hectic scenarios that had wracked his mind since he arrived at her doorstep were blown away with the gentle breath of her rapport. He squeezed her hand, instantly feeling her squeeze back.

“Thank you. That...means a lot.” He said as the ice on his brow melted. Oma grinned at his instant brightness, clearly pleased that she had managed to crack through his shell.

“What is it?” She asked with a wispy chuckle as she observed Levi’s minute crescent smile.

“Y/N gave me similar advice after it happened.” He confessed, feeling lighter than he had in years.

“Well, good. Means I raised her well.” Oma smirked fondly. She let go of his hand to uptake her tea cup once again.

“I would never let anything happen to Y/N.” Levi professed as he finally grabbed his tea as well. His grip tightened on his cup as if holding it sturdily cemented his promise. Oma’s grin widened at his dedication as they locked eyes once more.

“We are all responsible for ourselves, and all we can do for others is try our best to protect them. You have done just that, son.” She said after a hearty swig of her drink.

“You’ve been so good to both my girls, whether you see it or not. That’s all I could ever dream of in a superior officer, a friend, and a partner.”

Her heartwarming comment did exactly that to Levi. Except instead of blanketing him with a gentle heat it burned his chest all at once. The fire was so powerful that Levi couldn’t subdue the genuine smile that infiltrated his features. It widened his cheeks and parted his chapped lips in a beautiful display of appreciation.

Oma’s eyes widened and she coughed as her sip of tea almost slid down the wrong pipe.

“It’s a shame Y/N only gets to see those smiles.” Her wheeze was followed by a cackle. Her teasing made him roll his eyes but his smile didn’t diminish.

“Don’t tell her or she’ll think I’ve gone soft.” He chuckled himself as rich as the umber liquid in his cup. Oma winked as she took another sip.

“You know, I would have liked to have met you at Petra’s funeral but there wasn’t one. Her mother insisted on keeping things private.” Oma explained with a long exhale. Levi did recall you talking to him about that. Petra’s parents lived quite a distance away from you and Oma and became more private as the two of you grew up.

Levi nodded and pursed his lips. He definitely wouldn’t have been in the right mental space for that. Oma noted his silence and as if afraid he was going to creep back into his iron guard, sighed in contentment.

“I was so proud that she joined your squad.” She was basked in a lovely nostalgic glow as she mused.

“She looked delicate and slight but Petra had a fire in her like I’ve never seen in anyone else.”

“She did.” Levi agreed. His eyes fell to the fireplace as he traced his finger along the ivory rim of his cup. “She was one of the most skilled soldiers I’ve known.”

Oma hummed in agreement.

“Petra spoke so highly of you, you were truly her role model. She was ecstatic when you and Y/N got together. Couldn’t think of a better person for her little cousin.” Oma praised with the enthusiasm of a proud relative.

Levi let out an awkward huff and shook his head lightly as he brought his cup to his lips.

“You know she’s the reason Y/N wanted to join the corps?”

↞♞♘↠

The sun hung low in the sky when Levi’s squad found themselves lazily lounging at one of the picnic tables that framed the sparring area.  

“The cadets are going to arrive next week.” Gunther commented idly.

“Yes! My younger cousin is going to be joining the 104th class.” Petra beamed, clearly proud of her relative.

“Another cadet with your same beautiful genes? I can’t wait.” Oluo winked and Petra pursed her lips in unamusement.

“Keep it in your pants, Oluo. Or are you hitting on girls you haven’t even met yet?” Eld chided with a smirk.

“How do you feel about her joining, Petra?” Eld asked more seriously.  

“While I’m a bit bittersweet about it, I couldn’t think of another person more capable to be a new recruit.” Petra smiled sadly yet her eyes held excitement at being reunited with her kin.

“Hm, seems like the military runs in your family.” Levi commented, rolling his head against his shoulders to offer a loud crack.

“Yeah, Oma hated it when I joined so I bet she despised it when Y/N decided to fly the nest too.” Petra giggled with the lightness of a sparrow taking flight. A boisterous boom followed by an aggressive order caused the party to direct their attention to the arena.

“And so the hellscape is raised once again.” Gunther nodded to where Shadis was noisily instructing soldiers on where to place the cadet training equipment.

“The stick that’s within his ass imbeds itself deeper each year.” Eld yawned and stretched.

“I’ll be there to fight for her if he takes it too far.” Petra boasted in determination. Her declaration was fiery but her delicate features softened the promise. The special operations squad knew all too well, though, not to underestimate the strength that resided under that cute exterior.

“Hazing is part of the cadet experience.” Gunther shrugged.

“Need to get the nerves burning hot somehow.” Eld added.

“Oh come on, you guys are horrible!” Petra huffed.  

“I’ll make sure she’s well taken care of-” Oluo passionately interjected.

“That’s not necessary.” Petra cut him off with a jab to the ribs.

“You’ll back me up, right Levi?” She looked to their captain expectantly while Oluo's groans grew in pitch.

Levi shrugged in indifference. However the way Petra’s eyes glinted with eagerness made him more inclined to agree.

“If she’s not a brat.”

Petra threw him a pout as the crew’s light-hearted jokes floated up to meet the chromatic tendrils of the evening sky.

[shefanispeculator]

Gwen Stefani had begun working on new music before the lockdown hit, but says it was only when she brought up the idea of reintroducing herself to her collaborators that inspiration struck. “I'm not trying to force myself on anyone, and I'm not trying to have a comeback,” she says with a laugh. “I’m simply going to do some music without feeling defensive about it. Whoever likes me can listen. If you don't like it, you can actually say you don't like it! I don't care. I just want to put music out.”

After cutting a song in February with rising songwriter and producer Luke Niccoli (who’s worked with buzzy acts like Yves Tumor, Miya Folick, and Joji), Stefani was virtually introduced to pop hitmaker Ross Golan (Selena Gomez, The Chicks, P!nk), who suggested the trio write about exactly what the singer was feeling: a desire to remind people that she’s not just records collecting dust on your shelf.

“Let Me Reintroduce Myself,” released Monday, is a feel-good return to the ska/pop/reggae hybrid — record-scratching, horns, a walking bass line — that Stefani perfected during her time fronting No Doubt. Using her downtime in Oklahoma during the pandemic to dig back into ska’s roots, she immersed herself in the history of the genre, leading her to feel like now was the right moment to return to the sounds that first put her on the map 30 years ago. “All of the riots had happened, and I just started thinking so much about when I started loving music and why,” she says. “It was eighth grade when I learned about ska and Madness and the Selecter and all those bands that started to define the kind of music that I felt like I fit into; here I was, this Catholic girl from Anaheim doing reggae music! But that music was all about unity and anti-racism, and that was in the '70s. Then we were doing it in the '90s. And now here we are, again, in the same old mess.”

After the “Let Me Reintroduce Myself” writing session in late August (for which she later cut her vocals safely at the Los Angeles studio, the Village), Stefani began referring to Golan and Niccoli as her “song soulmates,” joining forces on a handful of other Zoom-born songs since then that will, if all goes according to plan, see the light of day some time in 2021. But for now, the No Doubt singer’s new track is a welcome return to form after five seasons judging The Voice, twice topping the country charts with fiance Blake Shelton, and building upon the success of her first-ever Christmas album, 2017’s You Make It Feel Like Christmas. “I just said, "I want to do some reggae,’” she remembers. “And it was just this weird full circle moment, because as soon as I started telling whoever I was going into the studio about that, they were so inspired too.”

In a call late last week, Stefani walked EW through returning to solo music, revisiting her back catalogue on the heels of Tragic Kingdom’s 25th anniversary, and how some of her biggest hits have gained new resonance in recent years.

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: How are you feeling knowing this song is about to come out? GWEN STEFANI: Under the circumstances, to be able to put out new music is just beyond a gift. Even if it wasn't a pandemic it would be exciting, but it's crazy with the pandemic, you know what I'm saying? I just didn't think it was going to come this year or that I'd be this lucky.

What was your headspace like as you went into writing and recording new solo material this year? Well, this is the deal: I haven't really put a record out in five years. That's a long time. I don't know how it went by so quickly. I would have loved to, but I was doing the Vegas show [Just a Girl] and that took up a lot of time. Before that, I toured the record before, [2016’s This Is What the Truth Feels Like], and the next thing you know, five years passed. I also was feeling like... "Does anyone really want to hear new music from me?" It's so much work to make new music, and I think about all the bands that I loved — I don't go looking for their new records. I just listen to the stuff that I liked in high school .

Somebody sent me a song called “When Loving Gets Old,” and I really loved it. Nobody sends me songs. Why doesn't anyone just send me, like, “Umbrella”? I got this song, I actually liked it. I went in to record it. The girl that sent it to me said, "They actually wrote this for you." And I was like, "Really? No wonder the lyrics feel so good. Why don't I write with them?” We wrote this song called “Cry Happy,” made up of all of these lyrics I’d written on my phone. We had this really great day, but I had to rush home to the kids. It's so different these days; you get there and you have to get home to cook dinner, so I didn't get to cut a demo. That was last February. And then we hit lockdown.

I spent a hundred days in Oklahoma, doing laundry and cooking. We had 15 people there. It was an incredible pause on life to be there at the ranch with the boys and just have this surreal lifestyle for a while, but nothing to do with the life included creating music or anything like that. But Blake happens to have a studio there and had to do some work and brought an engineer in. So I recorded the vocals on “Cry Happy,” and that was like lighting a match to a wildfire because I was like, “My god, I’ve got to do music."

You felt inspiration again? I felt all kinds of inspirations and ideas. It's like God saying, "You’ve got to do this now." When I get that urgency, you can't stop me. I'm like, “I’ve got to go write songs. That's what I need right now. And I don't even care if anyone hears them, or if they think they suck, I'm doing it, now.”

When I got back to L.A., I went into the studio. Everything was plastic-guarded. You get your temperature taken. Everybody's wearing masks. By then, all of the riots had happened. I started to go back and investigate ska and reggae, and I found all these documentaries about how ska was born in the 1960s, how that was linked to the Jubilee when Jamaica was being freed from England. Starting No Doubt, we were the third-wave imitating the 1960s.Then I found this documentary on a school in Jamaica called the Alpha Boys School, which was run by Catholic nuns. There's this little white Catholic nun called Sister Mary Ignatius Davies who helped nurture reggae music. You can see all these pictures of her with these little boys and they're learning these brass instruments. The first ska band that was ever born was these kids out of Alpha Boys School, the Skatalites. No Doubt used to listen to them. Doing my research, it all just felt so full-circle.

So this music was born out of that. I wanted to go back and make something that was joyful and back to my roots, where it all started. [Pre-pandemic] I’d been in the studio with Luke Niccoli and he's the one that said you really should work with my friend Ross, who turned out to be someone who really gets my sarcasm, and the fun side of my lyrics. We really hit it off.

With Luke, we taught each other a lot, especially when it came to ska and reggae, because I kept saying, "Dude, no, listen to Sublime. It has to have scratching in it. It has to be '90s." So he was discovering all this stuff that he didn't know, but bringing his technology and youth to the sound. It was a perfect kind of combination between the three of us. And we wrote a bunch of songs together and I know we're going to write more.

Lyrically, “Let Me Reintroduce Myself” addresses the idea of people thinking of you as a relic. Is that how you feel? At the beginning of this process, I feel like I had to make excuses for why I wanted to make new music. I felt like people were going to judge me and be like, "Well, you're like super old. Why would you even want to?" This is just how my brain works. Anyone would, you know what I mean? Everybody has their own fears or insecurities.

Ross’s reaction was [for us to incorporate] a way of saying, “Well, I haven't really gone anywhere if you really think about it.” I just had a No. 1 hit on [country] radio ["Nobody But You"] — two of them actually, because the next one's ["Happy Anywhere"] going to go No. 1 soon [Editor’s note: it did, 24 hours after our call]. We were just trying to say I haven't really gone anywhere. I'm still doing the same thing. I still wear the same kind of stuff that I've always worn. It's just an evolution.

“Let Me Reintroduce Myself” references your past, lyrically and visually. Some artists are really loath to look backwards, but you seem extremely willing to. Why is that? Five years ago, when my life blew up in my face, there was a lot of looking back. Music has always been a really amazing place to pour my heart and emotions into. It's like therapy.

When I was offered to do the Vegas show — a huge milestone for me — it was very reflective. I think it's an incredible thing to put out new music and have your sound evolve, whether it be through the No Doubt years or the three solo records I did. The first solo record [2004’s Love. Angel. Music. Baby.] was very much a dance record — that was the pop music when I was in high school that I wasn't into, but was the backdrop of my life. Back then, I said, "You know what? I want to try to make that kind of music. I want a dance song." It was so incredible to be able to work with all the talented people that I did and have such a different kind of sound like that, which made me want to do the second record, [2007’s The Sweet Escape].

The third solo record was not born in the same way. It didn't have a reference for the production. It was just, “How do I get through this time in my life? I've got to write these songs. I don't care how they're dressed up sonically. It's just getting them out.” During the process of doing that, I fall in love and I'm writing a song about my life basically being over and then starting to fall in love at the same time, all with one album.

After that, it was like, how do I evolve? When you do a new record, usually everything comes with that: the tour, the merch, the vibe. But when you're doing a Vegas show, you don't have a new song. You don't have anything new. How do you create a show around everything you've done? So there was a lot of looking back and thinking about, “How do I make this feel super nostalgic? How do I make this feel like, when everyone's coming from around the whole world to see me in this room, we have this common story, and that these songs were the backdrop to our lives?”

This year marked the 25th anniversary of No Doubt’s Tragic Kingdom. How has that record changed meaning for you over the years? I don't really like anniversaries. I don't really celebrate like, “Oh, I wore that in 1995. Now it's 10 years later, woo!” But then when it actually happened and I started seeing everyone posting and seeing all the stuff that we had done — things I don't remember, until I see the image — I was just overwhelmed, like, "Oh my god, we did that?" It was a really emotional couple of days. I really enjoyed hearing just how much that record impacted people. It really is truly mind-blowing to me that I get to do music, let alone to be part of people's lives in that way. It's hard to wrap my head around it.

I'm really proud of Tragic Kingdom. It was a very weird album. I was so naive. I didn't even know how to write a song. I don't know how I wrote those songs because I didn’t know anything back then. But doing the Vegas show was a really reflective time, because doing a song like “Just a Girl” every night felt more relevant than ever, especially in the last couple of years with the rise of the #MeToo movement. It feels like history repeating itself. We've come far, but we haven't. I always thought that I would outgrow that song and be a woman and not be able to sing the words “I'm just a girl” anymore, but it felt more relevant than it ever felt in my whole life. It was bizarre.

[homeformyheart]

i don’t feel so alone anymore - noah harris x mc (mtfl)

author’s note: i had to repost this due to blog access issues. this was an idea i had early on when my two first loves started and takes place before mason and ava break up. i used the farmer’s almanac to pick specific flowers to reference in this fic. the meaning of white jasmine is “sweet love, amiability” and pink camellias represent “longing for you,” which i thought was fitting for noah. the other two flowers are defined in the fic.

copyright: all characters owned by pixelberry studios. moodboard created by me. series/pairing: my two first loves - noah harris x mc (emma rating/warnings: 13+; minor grief, mourning word count: 3.3k summary: it’s the third anniversary of emma’s mother’s passing and the price family have plans to visit her grave. noah finds out and offers emma his heart in support.

i don’t feel so alone anymore

the day was here again. i can’t believe it’s been three years, emma thought to herself as she grabbed a black sweater dress and pulled on a pair of black tights. am i really going to wear all black today? screw it, she thought, pulling on her calf-length black leather boots as well. she didn’t want to spend another minute thinking about her outfit or school. she just needed to make it to lunch.

emma sighed and pulled out a photo album from the bookshelf on her desk, opening it about three quarters of the way with practiced ease. she couldn’t help but smile at the photo in front of her – the last time her family was complete and happy. she had just started her freshman year of high school and made the cheerleading squad.

“we need to celebrate! can we have 4 specials, including milkshakes, and the family-sized ice cream sundae for dessert?” mrs. price ordered in rapid-fire succession, before everyone had even settled into the booth.

“mom, you know we’re not going to be able to finish all of that!” emma said, trying to be serious but failing to stop the wide grin on her face.

mr. price put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “it must be a special occasion if we’re getting the ice cream sundae.”

mrs. price looked pointedly at her husband, but the twinkle in her eye suggested she was teasing. “of course, it’s a special occasion. our little emma bear is a high schooler and a cheerleader!”

emma stuck her tongue out at the childish nickname her mom continued to use. “mom, don’t call me that!”

it was the last memory she had of her mother that she could look back on fondly, before she got sick. emma traced her mother’s face with her finger, her gaze lingering on the deep purple scarf with pink and gold flower detail and matching dangling earring set. she looked up at the box hidden in the top shelf inside her closet, where those same scarf and earring set were stored, untouched for the past three years. taking a deep breath, emma grabbed the box and pulled out the scarf first, running the soft fabric through her fingers before wrapping it delicately around her neck. she picked up the gold dangling earrings next, sliding them onto her ears, the pink and purple crystal flowers catching the soft light of the bathroom lights. her phone buzzed a few times and she glanced over at the notifications.

noah: [want a ride to school?]

mason: [hey emma, need a ride to school?]

it was the same every morning, except when mason was carpooling with ava. she stopped expecting texts from ava, after she decided that emma was trying to steal her boyfriend. however, she was not in the mood for any of the stupid drama today. she quickly texted a brief “no,” to both, put her phone on airplane mode, and followed her dad out to his car.

“i’ll pick you guys up at 12:00, right here,” mr. price said, looking over at emma and mackenzie, who just nodded and stepped out of the car.

emma looked over at her dad and noticed the tired look on his face. his eyes were red and puffy, like he had spent the night crying. “we’ll get through this together,” she said, softly.

mr. price met her gaze and smiled. “you look beautiful today, just like your mother did when she wore that scarf.”

emma felt her lips quirk up. “thanks, dad.” she gave him a quick peck on the cheek and stepped out.

she wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone today. she walked to her locker to grab her history textbook before heading to homeroom.

“look at miss goth-wannabe over there. going to a funeral?”

emma took a deep breath. she saw lauren and ava walking towards her out of the corner of her eye and turned away so she wouldn’t have to make eye contact. she blinked rapidly at the stinging feeling forming behind her eyes at lauren’s comment and quickly sat down in the back corner of the room, on the side of the room closest to the door. if she had looked at ava, she would’ve seen the conflict on her best friend’s face. but they weren’t really talking these days, and emma didn’t want to feel hurt and disappointed in case ava didn’t remember what today was. only four hours to go.

as soon as the bell rang that signaled the start of lunch, emma walked as fast as she could toward the school entrance. she was weaving around students heading to their lockers or the cafeteria, heading in the opposite direction, when someone grabbed her wrist. emma tried to yank her wrist away and whirled around to see who had grabbed her.

“hey emma, where are you rushing off to? is everything okay?” noah asked softly, still holding onto emma’s wrist.

emma looked up at him and her eyes softened at the genuine concern in noah’s eyes. she bit her lip as she debated internally whether to tell him the truth. there were only two people who really knew what happened freshman year and would understand why today was so significant, but of course, those were the two people she wasn’t really talking to much lately.

“my dad’s picking me up for lunch and i have a free period after. i’ll be back for practice,” she said finally, avoiding eye contact.

noah let go of her wrist and moved to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. the simple motion made emma’s heart flutter and her body tense. bringing her eyes up to meet his, emma let out breath she didn’t realize she was holding. noah’s gaze was soft, gentle, but inquiring in a vulnerable way. his hand lingered by her cheek and she subconsciously started to lean into his palm. as if on cue, noah brought his palm closer and emma felt his thumb gently stroke her cheek.

there was something about the look he was giving her that made emma want to let him in. “we’re going to visit my mom’s grave. she died three years ago today,” she said softly, dropping her gaze to the floor.

noah held her chin firm and lifted her face so she was looking at him again. “i’m so sorry,” he murmured. “it’s understandable why you’d want to avoid everyone today. what can i do?”

emma pulled back instinctively, startled, but noah’s grip on her chin held her in place. most people who had never lost a loved one usually asked, “are you okay?” and emma would say “i’m fine,” as if it were a reflex. if they hadn’t lost a loved one, sometimes she would get the unintentionally offensive “time heals all wounds,” that she’d respond to with silence until they awkwardly excused themselves from the conversation. this was the first time in a long time someone just acknowledged her pain and asked her what they could do to be supportive rather than presume she wanted to hear unsolicited advice.

“that’s really sweet. i don’t think anyone’s really asked me that before, so i don’t really know if there’s anything you can do. but i really appreciate it,” she said finally, feeling a small smile appear on her face.

“i have a free period after lunch too,” noah started slowly, bringing his thumb to stroke her bottom lip. “i could keep you company or provide you with a distraction. whatever you need.”

his voice never wavered but emma saw the uncertainty in his eyes that darted between her eyes and her lips.

emma smiled a little wider. “that sounds nice. maybe you can meet me at the graveyard after my dad goes back to work? i’ll text you.”

noah’s eyes seemed to brighten and soften at the same time. “you got it, emma,” he said and with one last, quick glance at her lips, he dropped his hand from her face.

as soon as his hand left her face, emma missed the warmth. her gaze dropped to his lips once, before moving back up to meet his in what she hoped would be seen as silently asking for permission. noah’s gaze darkened so slightly that emma wondered if she imagined it, before his soft lips were on hers. she wasn’t sure who moved first, maybe they both moved at the same time, but all she could focus on was noah. he was kissing her sweetly and gently, as if he were afraid of pushing too hard or overstepping, and it was just what she needed.

she finally pulled away after what felt like minutes even though it was probably a few seconds and smiled. “thank you,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze before walking out the door.

ten minutes later, emma slid into the booth next to mack at the diner they used to go at least once a week. now they went as a family a couple times a year, in the spirit of remembering her mom. both mack and her dad were quiet and staring at the menus in front of them.

“3 specials with milkshakes and an ice cream sundae?” she suggested, mustering an encouraging smile on her face as she looked at her dad.

mr. price’s face brightened a little. “that sounds perfect for today.”

mack rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop a smile from forming on her face. “i am definitely going to fall into a food coma after lunch.”

emma quickly put in their order, making sure to also ask for coffee for her dad. once the food came, the awkwardness dissipated a little as they reminisced about their favorite memories with their mom. emma noticed both mack and her dad’s expressions seemed a little lighter by the time they were ready to leave.

after the meal, and boxing up lots of leftovers, they headed to the graveyard after a quick stop at the florist to pick up a bouquet of pink calla and stargazer lilies. emma held tightly on to the bouquet the entire ride over, feeling a sting behind her eyes and trying to keep the tears at bay by blinking rapidly. her mom absolutely loved pink lilies in all forms and while looking down at the picture-perfect flowers in her hands, she could feel how much she missed her mom. she missed her so much it physically hurt.

all too soon, she’s standing in front of her grave and the large tombstone with only the left half filled out. her parents had bought a shared plot and tombstone when her mom got sick. it was one of her mom’s strengths – she was always thinking ahead to find ways to lighten the burden on her family, even if said burdens came. the design and inscription on the tombstone were thoughtfully designed and selected by her mom, so the message was especially poignant. it was also the way her mom removed the burden from her family of having to deal with the logistics of arranging everything while they were deep in their grief.

“i love you mom. and i miss you so much every day,” emma said softly, kneeling down to help her dad clear out the weeds in front of the stone before laying the bouquet down. i hope i’ve made you proud, she thought to herself, taking a few steps back to allow her dad and mack to have their own private moments.

mr. price stood between emma and mack with an arm around each daughter. he gave their shoulders a light squeeze and emma wrapped her arm around her dad’s waist to give him a one-armed hug.

“come on girls, i’ll give you a ride back to school,” he said as he started walking back toward the car. mack followed but emma hesitated.

“actually, i’d like to stay a little longer. i don’t have any more classes today so i just need to get back in time for practice. i can take the bus back,” emma explained, tensing as she waited for her dad’s reaction. to be honest, she expected him to get angry and go into a lecture about skipping school even if she had a free period, but he didn’t.

he was quiet for a few moments before nodding. “i’ll see you at home later. be careful,” he said, turning back around.

emma let out the breath she was holding. she ignored the 30 unread texts and 5 voicemails from mason and sent a quick text to noah, who arrived more quickly than she expected. she walked back toward the main path so he could see where she was and noticed that he was holding two bouquets.

“what’s this?” she asked, as they walked back to her mom’s grave.

noah looked at her sheepishly. “well, i wanted to bring you and your mom something. the hyacinth and gladiolus flowers are for your mom,” he said, pushing the bouquet in his right hand toward her.

emma bent her face down to take in the scent of the flowers. “these are beautiful. usually people just get roses or chrysanthemums. i don’t think i’ve heard of these before, why’d you pick them?”

“i did some research on the meaning of flowers. white hyacinths can represent prayers for someone, and gladiolus flowers represent remembrance,” he said, softly. “i wanted these to be special.”

emma felt her heart swell with warmth. “noah… you being here is special. but thank you, this is incredibly thoughtful.” she smiled and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. she motioned for him to place the flowers next to her bouquet from earlier before turning back to the grave.

“mom, i want you to meet someone special. this is noah harris from school, a very important friend i made this year,” emma said softly, intertwining her fingers with noah’s and giving him a light squeeze.

“just a friend?” he teased softly.

emma blushed and tried to keep her gaze forward. “i, well, you’re special to me,” she stumbled, embarrassed.

noah squeezed her hand. “you’re special to me, too.” he turned to address the grave. “mrs. price, you have an amazing daughter. she tried so hard to become my friend when everyone else preferred to ignore me. i never thought i’d have someone like her in my life, someone who sees me for me and chooses to see good. i am so grateful that you raised her to be so kind and thoughtful.”

emma’s jaw dropped and she turned to look at noah’s face. even from his profile, she could tell he was being sincere, and very vulnerable. he turned to her with a soft smile and emma just felt like her insides were melting. she surged forward to kiss him, hard, letting go of his hand so she could wrap hers around his neck. noah took a step back in surprise but quickly regained his balance and held her waist firmly as he kissed her back. he pulled back shortly after to hand her the other bouquet, which emma had forgotten about. she took the bouquet from him and inhaled the perfume radiating off the pink and white flowers before looking back up at him.

“these are for you. white jasmine and pink camellias,” he said softly, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

“thank you,” emma said, sighing happily when noah placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “and what do these flowers represent?”

noah was silent. emma looked up from the flowers at him curiously but he was avoiding her gaze. was he blushing? she couldn’t remember if she had ever seen him blush before and now, she was really curious about what these flowers represented.

“you’re blushing! now i really want to know. please or i’ll just look it up,” emma teased, elated at finally seeing noah blush.

noah turned to head back toward the main path, but not before he grabbed her hand and intertwined their fingers. “i think i’d rather you look it up when you get home so you can’t tease me anymore today,” he said quickly as they made their way to his motorcycle.

“fiiiine, but i reserve the right to tease you about it tonight or tomorrow,” emma said, taking the spare helmet from noah.

he grimaced but emma could see the ghost of a smile twinkling in his eyes. she climbed behind him on the motorcycle and held tight as they made their way back to school. they walked hand-in-hand to the football field, ignoring the looks from everyone as they continued toward their respective locker rooms to get changed for practice. emma held on to her bouquet tightly and couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as she chatted with noah the entire walk over.

if anyone was looking closely, which emma wasn’t, they would’ve noticed that noah wasn’t really saying anything but looking at emma adoringly as if everything she was saying was the most interesting thing ever. which it was, at least, to him. not even seeing ava being handsy with mason could put a damper on emma’s spirits as she said goodbye to noah before heading over to the bleachers for cheer practice.

“how good of you to come back for practice after skipping school at lunch,” lauren remarked sarcastically as emma started stretching. the entire cheer squad and even mason seemed to have gone silent, waiting for emma’s reaction or response.

emma took a deep breath and straightened up to look at lauren directly with a frostiness that seemed out of character. she could see ava and mason out of the corner of her eye look at her with concern. “i didn’t skip. my dad signs us out for a half day so we can visit my mom’s grave on the anniversary of her death every year. got a problem with that?” she stated, her voice unwavering. lauren’s eyes widened in surprise. “didn’t think so.”

“two laps everyone, now!” ava ordered. the other cheerleaders seemed relieved as they started jogging away from the bleachers. “emma, wait. can we talk?”

emma paused and turned to look at ava and mason. “em, i’m sorry. i tried texting and calling you all day,” mason said, hands clenching as though he was trying to keep himself from reaching out for her. emma knew what he was really saying, which was that either he was sorry he forgot it was the anniversary of her mom’s death and that emma would need all the support she could get from her friends or that he remembered and was sorry he didn’t try harder to reach out. maybe he was too preoccupied with ava.

emma gave both of her friends long, appraising looks. “is that all?” she said, a little inwardly surprised at her own indifference. ever since her two best friends started dating, instead of seeing them both more, she saw them even less. she thought she would feel less alone after coming back from wisconsin but being a third wheel threw a wrench in that. until she started getting to know noah.

“emma… you know we’re here for you,” ava said softly, her eyes searching emma’s face for cues.

emma thought back to how noah stopped her in the hallway before she left to meet her dad and the flowers he brought to the graveyard. “except you know, you actually weren’t there for me today,” she said, giving them both a piercing look. mason and ava seemed to both tense and inwardly withdraw.

“but don’t worry, i’m okay. more than okay, actually. for the first time in a long time, i’m happy and i don’t feel so alone anymore,” she said, more to herself than to them, as she turned to start jogging along the track.

she didn’t look back at the concerned looks on mason’s and ava’s faces but did wave to noah when she noticed he was looking at her. she still missed her mom every day, but today it didn’t hurt as much. and she knew who to thank for that.

* * * * * mentions: @nyastarlight​; @khoicesbyk​; @chetachisblog​;  @robintora​;​ @shows-simp-card​;

[bluejohsai]

YOUR OWN RULES AND STORY — KOZUME KENMA.

with the continuous grapple of people's mindsets and the ongoing battle of blaming the victims and not the harassers, i incorporated it through the words of this scenario because as what i have read in the trending hashtags of my country, this toxicity needs to stop.

i have experienced similar things like the one i wrote for this scenario but it involved my school uniform, a crowded bus, and sometimes just walking down the street. please, take time in being brave because what we wear doesn't define us and it isn't in the slightest, an invitation for people to become disgusting pigs.

Having Kozume Kenma as your boyfriend had its perks and downsides.

The downsides definitely pertain to his occasional tendency of becoming aloof, which you had no trouble with handling, seeing as you both started dating when you were in high-school. From the first time you met him, his own choice of being distant towards others intrigued you, one reason for your interest being his captain of the volleyball club. For such a social role in a club, the members chose him to be their ringleader (a thing that he has no say on because his best friend and the previous captain insisted to the coaches to have his ‘promotion’).

You both met when the previous manager of the volleyball club decided to search for someone who would take over her position once she graduates, introducing you to the volleyball club right after knowing you. It was a normal lunch period and you were inside your classroom when one of your classmates asked if you had any participated clubs. Being a carefree student, you still didn’t apply to any clubs and mainly because you were only a first-year. And the next thing you knew, you were whisked away by a pretty upperclassman, who introduced herself as the manager of the volleyball club.

You had no idea what conundrum you just entered.

At first, you carefully asked for the permission of the pretty upperclassman that you wanted to start once your second-year rolls in. You didn’t expect her to nod fervently with a huge and beautiful smile on her face, which made you feel small for some reason.

That afternoon, you also met Kenma, noticing how he wanted to melt into the background, making sure to never meet your eyes.

And when the third-years graduated and bid their goodbyes, Kenma was chosen to be the club’s captain, a notion that he so blatantly rejected yet accepted (albeit reluctantly) and you were now the club’s official new manager. For the first few months, you managed to make him utter more words than he had ever said to another member. You both enjoyed each other’s company and taking the time to actually get to know him; learning about his favorites and deeply understanding him as a person. Kenma also followed Kuroo’s advice on lessening the coldness he carefully wrapped around his heart and by doing so, he started liking you more than he intended to.

Now, both of you are in a relationship that lasted for three years, and the perks in dating him just keep piling up, overpowering the downsides. For instance, Kenma would always take the time in making sure you were truly taken care of; whether it be picking you up from your last class, cooking for you every other day, or having you on his lap while he plays some games with his friends (a feat that he disdainfully expressed, thinking that he wouldn’t see the members of the volleyball club anymore). He would also go out of his way to help you study for some of your subjects or even leave an unexpected kiss on your forehead, cheeks, or neck.

The naked truth, he is an amazing boyfriend.

It was a fair afternoon and Kenma was waiting on one of the benches of the Medical Sciences building, his phone opened to some random game that he downloaded to pass some time.

“Kenma!”

The two-toned boy looked up from his phone and regarded you with a fond look, his eyes softening and lips stretching in a minuscule smile at the sight of you. Three years and here he is, still having butterflies at the reality of you dating him.

“Hey, how’s class?” he asked you, staring down at you while taking your heavy backpack from you and replacing it with his own. This habit initiated when he started walking you home during high school — you exchanging bags since he only carried little things in his backpack, making it weigh like it was nothing. Once you have his backpack on, he noticed the bright stare you gave him, earning a low chuckle from him. Taking your hand tenderly and intertwining them, Kenma started walking. “Excited for our Korean barbeque night?”

You smiled widely at him. “We had another quiz earlier and we have to pass our labs tomorrow so I guess this will be one of those caffeinated nights,” you cheekily replied at him. “But I know that our Korean barbeque night will make up for it.”

Kenma flashed a serene smile. “Want me to help you? I think it’s going to be my free night tonight.”

You looked at him disbelievingly, raising one eyebrow. “You’re not streaming tonight?”

He shrugged, looking down at you with a small half-smile. “Figured that you need some company while you finish your lab.”

The two of you then waked out of campus and into the busy streets of Tokyo, your conversation never ending until the both of you stopped in front of an intersection. Waiting for the signal to cross the street, Kenma took this as a time to play with your hand.

“Hey, Kenma,” you called out, feeling his phone vibrate from your back. “Someone’s calling you.”

Kenma looked at you, released your hand from his hold, and opened the front compartment of his backpack. He softly smiled as you started bouncing subtly as if you were listening to an imaginary beat but his smile quickly vanished when he saw a man inconspicuously standing too close at you, his phone right below your skirt. The golden-eyed boy narrowed his eyes at the suspicious activity but he felt anger boiling when he noticed that the man’s phone screen depicted a front camera, your short cycling shorts in view. Without any rational thought, Kenma slapped the man’s arm, making the older guy’s phone fly from his hand, shocking the people surrounding you.

“Hey!” the man shouted, his eyes blazing as he faced Kenma, who was looking at him with a dangerously blank expression. “What’s your problem, man?!”

The two-toned boy rose an eyebrow. “My problem is that you were taking inappropriate pictures of my girlfriend,” he menacingly stated, nearing the man with pounding footsteps. Now directly in front of the man and even though he was centimeters shorter, Kenma clutched the collar of the man’s shirt in a vice grip. He glared at the man and lowered his voice in a deadly warning, “Delete it.”

You couldn’t pull Kenma out of the way when the man pulled back his arm and punched Kenma hard on the side of his face, knocking him to the ground. “Your girlfriend asked for it! Dressing like a slut in public places—”

Though slightly hazy from the punch, Kenma did something that he probably would never dare if he was younger, thinking it was too much work and would probably give him a bruised knuckle. He mustered all of his force and punched back the man, earning him the sight of a nosebleed. For such an unfit person, Kenma managed to make the man tumble to the sidewalk.

This brewed an unwanted fight on the sidewalks of Tokyo.

Now here you are, waiting for your boyfriend in one of the lobby chairs of the police station. You chewed on your lip as you run your fingers on top of your bag, which was given to you while a police officer ushered Kenma inside to be interrogated. Your mind was muddled with conflicting thoughts, starting with that perverted man who managed to take a photo of your short-covered thighs. Heck, you were wearing one of Kenma’s sweaters tucked in one of your favorite skirts. It was a normal day for you to dress up and now this happened. Your lips curled in disgust at the audacity of the unnamed man to take a picture of you, your gut boiling in anger.

For what felt like hours, the door to your left opened and Kenma strode towards you with a busted lip and bruised cheek, a female police officer following close behind. You stood up and placed your hand gently on Kenma’s face.

“Let’s get you fixed up at home, okay?” you whispered to him, your eyes probably teary at the sight of your boyfriend grimacing.

Kenma covered your left hand with his right one and regarded you with tender eyes dripping of concern. “What about our barbeque night?” He then groaned, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m sorry for ruining the night you’ve been looking forward to all week. I promise I’d make it up to you.”

“No, it’s not your fault, Kenma,” you retaliated, your eyebrows slightly furrowed. “Come on, I’m going to bake an apple pie once we get home.”

But before you could pull Kenma toward the exit of the police station, the female police pfficer stopped you. “Young lady,” she started, her expression quite troubled yet she painted a faux smile on her lips. “I think you should stop wearing revealing clothes and you should be more careful next time. Don’t wear this kind of provocative skirt when in crowded places—“

“Are your brain cells on the brink of extinction?” Kenma asked in his leveled voice, his eyes cast directly at the police officer.

“Pardon—?”

“This kind of mindset is one the reasons why our world never flourishes,” he sarcastically stated, never leaving your side while shooting his jabs at the police officer. “There will be no harassments if there are no harassers in the first place. So you’re basically implying that people get raped and sexually-harassed because of the way they dress? This is a new year and there are still people who think like that? Stop blaming the victim, then, and do your job right. You just let that perverted man go without a second thought.

“And one more thing,” he breathed, his grip on your hand tightening, “my girlfriend can wear whatever she wants.”

After that, every time you would go to class or just buy something from the mall, you would take time in making sure you never wear shorts or skirts again. Your mind was anticipating all kinds of scenarios just like the one you experienced so you only don jeans and long-sleeved shirts these days and with Kenma’s observing eyes, this didn’t go unnoticed.

One day, already dressed and preparing your breakfast, Kenma sluggishly walked out of your shared room, making a beeline towards you. He wrapped his arms around you and snuggled against your neck, his hair tickling your face, making you giggle at the adorable antics of your boyfriend. Never lifting up his head from you, Kenma only hummed against your neck while placing small kisses here and there every other minute.

“You’re wearing jeans again?” he asked on your neck, his breath making you shiver pleasantly. Bothered by it, Kenma lifted his head from your shoulder and replaced it with his hands, turning you around into facing him, your whines of burning the bacon following afterward. “Hey,” he gently called out to you in his soft-spoken voice, his hands planted on your cheek, “don’t let what that good-for-nothing policewoman and perverted bastard did get to you. I’m not saying that you don’t look good in jeans, I’m only reminding you to wear what you feel like wearing. It’s not your fault, okay?”

A smile slowly replaced the pout on your lips. Standing on your tip-toes to have your face level with Kenma’s, you placed your lips on his in a heartfelt kiss. Kenma didn’t waste a second in closing his eyes and deepening the kiss, your lips in a slow waltz with each other’s. Nipping your lip before pulling away, Kenma never increased your distance with each other as he placed his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as if relishing this intimate moment with you.

Kenma called your name softly. “It’s your body so make your own rules and go spend hours in choosing what to wear. I’m only asking you to stay strong and face them without fear. No matter what you wear, know that you’re doing it because of you and never because of them.” He paused to kiss you on the forehead. “I love you and I’m so proud of you.

“So don’t let them define who you are because the [Name] I know is her own story.”

[mahou-queen]

♡52 Weeks of Lolita Questionnaire♡

In a recent Lovely Lor video, Lor answered questions from Loliprompts’ questionnaire “52 weeks of lolita”. It seems like a fun list of questions and I thought I would answer them too~ ♡

1. What is your favorite brand, and why? What’s its history? ♡  I guess my favorite brand would have to be Angelic Pretty. I love a lot of other brands, but the majority of dresses in my wish list right now are Angelic Pretty. As for their history? I don’t really know haha, I guess I should research that a bit.

2. How would you describe lolita fashion to a curious person you met in passing? ♡ I always just say I am apart of a fashion club? People don’t generally require more than that but if they did I would probably tell them that it’s an alternative fashion based on Victorian fashion and we have a fashion club and we get dressed up and meet for tea and stuff.

3. What style do you think is the most underrated, and why? ♡ qi and wa lolita. I almost never see them, or see interest in them which is a shame because there are some really beautiful dresses out there that are suited for these styles.

4. What does the phrase “lolita lifestyle” mean to you, and do you, or would you like to, adhere to it? ♡ lolita lifestyle is when you try to bring lolita or lolita-esque aesthetics into every aspect of your life. Maybe wearing lolita every or most days, and having a very “loliable” home/room. I could never be a lifestyler because I have other fashion interests. Also lolita is not appropriate at my workplace.

5. What do you think constitutes lolita etiquette or good manners? ♡ I don’t believe there is any “lolita etiquette” I think you should just be yourself. Good manner are good manners, don’t be rude to your comm members, don’t dance on the tables at a tea party. But that’s just commonsense I don’t think there is a way to behave that is lolita.

6. Does your style change with the seasons, or do you dress the same and try to bear the cold/heat? ♡ I try, but admittedly I am awful at it. I try to keep berets in the cooler months, as well as long sleeves. BUT I’m a sucker for ankle socks and I wear them all year despite the cold and I do freeze my legs off at winter meets. 

7. Do you have a fashion role-model? What do you admire most about them? ♡ I actually have several! I will list them and their instagrams here: sleepyriri  - Her coords are so dreamy looking, very light floaty aesthetic which I love. She also has her own lolita brand! Le_verger_sucre - Her coords are so pink and princess-y. I find myself sharing her photos a lot. Fannyrosie - the classic lolita queen. Need I say more? Tokimeki.bunny - I love the cuteness of her coords. They always have a lot of extra elements and are so well balanced. She’s also really good at coordinating printed tights which I am awful at. Tsumikko - Lavender QUEEN! I love her use of aprons, layering, and color balancing. Very light, floaty vibes.  Milkcircus - Print QUEEN. Her use of prints and patterns absolutely inspires me. Coords are always very multi-dimensional  Cursed.Kaiser - They’re coords are honestly so cool, there’s a kind of drama in them that I really like. Darkxdelirium - She almost made me want honey cake with her impeccable coording skills. 

8. What are the top 10 things you love most about lolita? Can you also compile a list of things you hate? ♡ I don’t think I can come up with 10 but I’ll do my best. ♡ Loves: The community aspect, the ability to reclaim my femininity through lolita, the creativity that goes into building coords, crafting to make one of a kind pieces, being able to feel beautiful without being “sexy”, having a hobby to focus on when I need something to escape to.

♡ Hates: Second-hand market price fluctuation, brands still releasing dresses with a max 96cm bust, buying petticoats, storing my stuff (especially purses), brands who charge astronomical prices for low quality materials (AP purses, Q-pot jewelry, etc).

9. How strict are you in applying the rules to yourself? To others? ♡  I am pretty strict on myself. For a long time I was terrified to be seen as ita. I was even afraid to wear bodyline for fear of being ”ita” even though my coord was good. These days I am less strict on myself and worry much less about these things, but I still struggle to get out of the strict mindset from time to time. others? I love experimentation even if I am afraid to do so so I am really not too strict on others, if it works, it works, and I am not going to criticize anyone. 

10. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever incorporated into a coord, or the weirdest material you’ve ever worn? ♡ The weirdest thing I think I have ever worn in a coord were a pair of korilakkuma bell earrings. As you can imagine, bells on your ears? not great.

11. What’s the story behind your discovery of lolita fashion? ♡ When I was a senior in high school, a new girl started attending my school. She wore fairy kei and sweet lolita to school. We became friends through art class and eventually she ended up teaching me about the fashion. She sold me my first dress, and later my first brand piece. I am really glad to have met her and to have been exposed to lolita. You can follow her on instagram here

12. What is the one item that you’ve owned the longest? ♡ I still own my very first dress I got in 2012. Bodyline Squirrel Party. However, I am planning to sell it since I’ve worn it in everyway I can think of.

13. Do you think lolita is only about clothes, or does it also encompass a certain attitude or mindset? ♡ Lolita is about the fashion. All kinds of people are lolitas and they like it or wear it for different reasons. 

14. Have you ever decorated a room or other space (car?) with lolita aesthetics in mind? ♡ My old bedroom used to be very “kawaii”. I love pink so my car stuff, my desk, as much as I can get away with, is pink. 

15. Is it possible to be too obsessed with lolita? ♡ If lolita is interfering with your ability to pay your bills, or to be happy, or to focus on school or work or family then you should probably pull back. Some people do get very absorbed by things and in those cases it can become too much.

16. What are you favorite and least favorite trends? Do you think it’s important to follow them, or to do as you like regardless of them? ♡ My favorite trend ever is the chiffon half blouse. So comfortable, affordable, light, cute, and much more size inclusive. Least favorite trend? mis-matched shoes from the 2010 era. I like my shoes to get equal wear. I think these days more than ever, you can really just do whatever you want. Wear the fashion is right now is like anything goes which I think is great,

17. How do you define “lolita cosplay” and how do you feel about it? ♡ Lolita cosplay is stupid. sorry

18. Are there other fashions that you wear regularly, or are you an everyday lolita? ♡ I don't wear other street fashions anymore. I used to wear fairy kei and himekaji but these days I just dress regular outside of lolita.

19. Do you look for bargains to save as much money as possible, or are you willing to make sacrifices for high-quality products? ♡ I try to find the best prices when applicable but if I am in love with something I’ll do what I have to do.

20. When was the last time you wore lolita, and what did you do that day? If you wear it daily, when was the last time you went OTT or extra-fancy? ♡ The last time I wore lolita was in April lmao. For a virtual meet-up with my comm.

21. If you were to combine lolita fashion with an unrelated style or theme, what would your new creation be? ♡uhhhh I honestly have no idea at all. 

22. What is your favorite accessory, and why is it your favorite? ♡ I have 2, 2-way bow clips from back when bodyline had a massive “sundries” section. They're no longer available and haven't been for a long time. I am really glad I got them, I wish I had bought more sundries when that section was still there.

23. What’s your favorite online lolita community or forum? Are there any that you avoid?  ♡ I don’t have a favorite tbh. I have never been on 4chan and I never will be.

24. What is your favorite theme (e.g. school loli, pirate loli, nurse loli) or motif (e.g. deer, music notes, stars/constellations)? ♡ black and gold stars! Valentines day! fruits! gingham!

25. Is there any music that you associate with lolita? ♡ orange caramel lol

26. Will you ever be too old for lolita? ♡  never

27. Do you enjoy sewing? Why or why not? ♡ I don’t know how to sew :(

28. How does your location affect your involvement in the local lolita community? Would you like to move elsewhere to be closer, or perhaps farther away? ♡ I drive about 1.5 hours for meetups because that’s the closest active comm. I do not mind so much. I’d like to maybe be closer.

29. Does your sleepwear resemble lolita at all? ♡  not at all. I sleep in oversized t-shirts

30. Can you admit to any unpopular opinions regarding lolita? ♡ I hate peeking bloomers. I’m sorry :(

31. How do you feel about Visual kei or Jrock, and do you feel it’s related to lolita, or not? ♡ Love it, and absolutely. Visual Kei is like lolitas relative. 

32. Whether or not you wear them (looking at you, Ouji), do you prefer the look of skirts, JSKs, and OPs with or without prints? ♡ I like both, but these days I am appreciating non-printed items more.

33. How has your style evolved over time? ♡ It hasn't really, just gotten more refined. 

34. If applicable, what other communities do you belong to? What other identities do you adopt? ♡ I’m queer, so the LGBTQ community is important to me.

35. What are your favorite shoes to wear with your style, or what’s your dream pair? ♡ I love heels. I do not like flat shoes because I like to elongate my legs. I don’t have a dream pair.

36. Would you, or have you ever, dressed your pets in lolita? ♡ lol I’d try but I don't think it would work.

37. How do you feel about people who wear lolita for Halloween? Does it depend on whether that person is already a lolita? ♡ Wearing lolita for Halloween as a lolita is fine, but wearing it as a costume is kind of meh.

38. Excluding fashion shows, what’s the most amount of outfits you’ve ever worn in a day? ♡ just 1 haha

39. What’s your worst lolita horror story? ♡  I don’t really have any. I one time went with some of my college friends to a con and I left my dorm building in full sweet early in the morning. I was afraid my dormmates would see me cause I did not want to explain but luckily no one was awake and I made it to the van unscathed. 

40. Do you like sweets? If so, what’s your favorite dessert? ♡ I love angel food cake 

41. Do you have any beauty products, health routines, or special diet to keep you at your best? ♡ I take co-q-10 for my eczema, I like laneige lip sleeping mask, especially in the winter.

42. What were the best and worst meetups you’ve hosted? If you haven’t hosted, would you like to someday? ♡ I wanted to host a garden meet this summer but covid ruined that. Maybe next year.

43. Who is your favorite artist? If not famous for lolita art, do you think they have lolita appeal? ♡ I love a lot of artists, some of them I think are lolita-adjacent because their style is kawaii. I’ll list some here: jisaaaa!  ubokhee MISOART_ meowwniz gojio_ hanavbara Fancy Surprise Arcade Healer Yurie Sekiya and many many more. Go stalk my following on instagram for lots of kawaii artists.

44. How do you feel about wigs? Do you wear any, or style your natural hair? ♡ I used to wear wigs, but my hair is too long now so I use my natural hair with fake bangs.

45. What’s your favorite animal motif? ♡ bears?

46. Have you ever visited a brand’s shop/boutique? If so, what was your reaction? If not, what shop would you most like to visit? ♡ I want to visit AP San Francisco 

47. Do you think posting photos of your coord online is a crucial part of belonging to the community? ♡ YES, it’s how we all stay connected and inspired 

48. How has the lolita community changed since you became a part of it? Where do you see lolita heading in the future in terms of community and networking? ♡ I think it’s become way more accepting and accessible. When I got into lolita there were virtually no legit resellers, the community was entirely on livejournal, buying second hand was a nightmare. Buying anything! was a nightmare. There was so much stress around looking “ita”, and the superiority of brand. These days its just not like that. So much amazing taobao brands have really helped even the field for lolita. We have so much more access to the clothes, the community, everything. It’s great. I only see it getting better as years go on.

49. What advice would you give someone who is nervous about starting lolita? Or do you think they should learn their own lessons? ♡ I think too many lolitas today rely on seasoned lolitas to tell them everything. I would say, go watch lovely lor, read @lolita-tips and look at other peoples coordinates. Lolita Tips tumblr taught me basically everything I know back in the day and it a wealth of info and concrit. Part of what makes the lolita journey so great is the research, the learning, the mistakes. You don’t wanna be like someone else, you wanna be you. So you really need to do the work yourself so you can put your personal flair into the fashion. That’s when it’s at its best. 

50. What’s your dream dress/garment? Is it a faraway goal or have you obtained it? ♡ My dream dress was AP sweetie violet jsk in lavender. Which I got in 2019. My new dream dress is AP rose tea garden jsk in navy. It’ll probably be a while before I can afford to buy one.

51. How do you feel about the stereotype that lolitas are full of drama? What’s the worst drama you’ve ever witnessed or been involved in? ♡ I think any and all groups of people are bound to have drama. I don’t believe that’s specific to lolita at all. I personally have not been involved in any lolita drama.

52. Are you loyal to any particular makeup brands? ♡ I am very particular about my makeup because I do not like to use certain ingredients. I really like Pacifica. But I also like some Korean brands like The Saem, MISSHA, and TonyMoly.

This was super long but I had fun answering all the questions. Have you done this questionnaire? I’d love to see your answers~

[stormyniqhts-blog]

hey, guys!! i’m sora and i’m happy to be here. i just want to start off by talking a bit about myself. such as having a love for anime, disney movies, doggos, and uhh, i’m also recently binge watching stranger things s3. anyway, this will be a super mega intro post as i’ll be putting all my charas into one intro, so here’s info on julie tran, layla evans, frankie sullivan, and dylan grayson!!

edit: i also have a general plots page, but i’m open to anything outside of it!

if you want to go through a specific chara, all you have to do is ctrl+f and type “--chara name”

--JULIE TRAN

* lana condor. twenty-three. female. she/her. | did you see julie tran this morning on main street? i heard they were heading towards the protests. they’ve been in ballard for all her life and last time i spoke to them, they were a sales associate. if i remember correctly, they’re a scorpio and they remind me of colorful striped tops, lazy sundays, sunbathing probably because they’re sociable and prim.

about

things seemed like a picture perfect image for the girl when she was young. she helped her family with chores, worked hard in elementary and middle school classes, etc. however, by the time high school rolled around, her relationship with her parents weren’t exactly the same. she realized her dream of becoming a fashion designer, which they didn’t approve on due to how they wanted their daughter to work in the medical field.

at first, she agreed on dropping the dream and went on with doing well in her classes. except, she never gave up on her dream. when she finally graduated high school, she moved out of her parents’ place with saved up money and hardly talked to them since then. she felt guilty for not being who they wanted her to be, but being away felt better than trying to be someone she didn’t picture herself as.

soon, her parents decided to move away too and the relationship between her and them became more estranged. now, she’s in the process of improving her designs while working as a sales associate.

tl;dr basically a girl who wants to be a fashion designer someday and has an estranged relationship with her parents.

details

pinterest

character aesthetic + inspo

disgust (inside out), wendy darling (peter pan), tori vega (victorious), lara jean covey (to all the boys i’ve loved before), jane sloan (the bold type), lady (lady & the tramp), mabel pines (gravity falls), cher horowitz (clueless).

traits

insecure, loyal, motherly, organized, passive, picky, prim, self-righteous, sociable.

personality

she’s basically a mom friend. anything you’ll need, she’ll more than likely have it. she’s also always there for her loved ones no matter what, whether it’s early in the morning or late at night.

she tends to think of her friends and others before herself. adding onto this, she tends to not say no to others because of how helpful she wants to be, so at times, she’ll feel overwhelmed or exhausted.

the reason why insecure is added is because she feels as if she’s quite bland. that there’s really no unique trait about her. sure, she cares about others, but she feels there are so many people in the world that are also caring and it’s not exactly something different.

julie can also be quite self-righteous because she thinks she knows what’s best for people and just doesn’t realize she may bring harm.

aesthetics

colorful striped tops, lazy sundays, sunbathing, single-colored sunglasses, ponytails with ribbons, white blouses with collars, cup of tea, clothes organized by color.

style

she’s known to wear black mary janes, neutral colors or single-colored outfits, and is usually seen wearing blouses with skirts or dresses. once in a while, she’ll wear a patterned top or bottoms.

headcanons

she’ll always have necessary things in her bag. such as snacks, band-aids, tylenol, tissues, etc.

as she dreams of being a fashion designer, she has sketchbooks filled with clothing designs.

she has a small orange kitten named oliver (because of oliver & company)

--LAYLA EVANS

* danielle campbell. twenty-eight. cis female. she/her. | did you see layla evans this morning on main street? i heard they weren’t heading towards the protests. they’ve been in ballard for all her life and last time i spoke to them, they were a worker at twice new and housekeeper at horizon suites. if i remember correctly, they’re a leo and they remind me of matching lace bras & thongs, waves crashing against the shore, piggyback rides probably because they’re adventurous and stubborn.

about (tw: mentions of death & abuse)

one would think she’s the happiest girl alive with her parents. they would spend a lot of time together, watch layla during her ballet recitals, and eat dinner at the dining table every night. things were immediately different the moment her dad passed away when she was nine years old. since then, her mom began ignoring her because of how much the girl reminded her of her husband. layla learned to take care of herself soon enough.

things were spiraling down from there. once she was in middle school, she started rebelling and causing trouble. she destroyed properties, stole from stores, etc. when she became a high schooler, she started failing classes and took summer school, partied almost every night, drank a lot, and almost got expelled. the only reason she didn’t was because her advisers and teachers gave her a second chance to improve. she ended up taking it. by her junior year, her behavior was improving gradually and worked harder at bringing up her gpa. the reason why she took the second chance was because of her dream to be a best-selling author and to go to college. which she was accepted into.

nonetheless, she may not be a writer at the moment, that doesn’t mean she plans to forget her dream. she just wants to use up more time to improve on her writing. she’s talked to multiple publishers and is just continuing to grow for now.

tl;dr she’s had a rough past and just wants to be a best-selling author.

details

pinterest

character aesthetics + inspo

n/a

traits

adventurous, childish, impulsive, obstinate, promiscuous, valiant, vulgar

personality

layla’s very outgoing and sociable. she loves hanging out with people, whether it’s going to a party, drinking, going out for food, road trips, or just having a simple picnic or laying on the ground to look at stars. she’s just always looking to have fun and definitely a party animal. almost any party you see, she’ll be there. 

she also stands up for those who are close to her heart and can be reliable as she’s there for them no matter what. 

nonetheless, once in awhile she’ll get an idea and quickly act on it. and even though she can be wrong at times, it does take her a moment to admit it.

aesthetics

a journal full of words, matching lace bras & thongs, waves crashing against the shore, piggyback rides, the comfort of someone being there, wanting to hear the words ‘i’m proud of you’, hands gripping bed sheets, police sirens, worn out ballet shoes.

style

basically her fashion consists of all kinds of shorts (mainly booty shorts and ripped ones), crop tops, oversized hoodies and shirts, spandex shorts, tops that show off cleavage, fishnets, and occasionally skirts + denim, ripped jeans. 

she has a few very nice dresses too.

headcanons

she has this tattoo on the back of her left arm and this tattoo in the same area.

she’s bisexual and proud of it.

other labels that can define her: the dirtbag, the halcyon.

one of her most prized possessions is a necklace her dad gave her.

--FRANKIE SULLIVAN

* chloe bennet. thirty-one. cis female. she/her.  |  did you see frankie sullivan this morning on main street? i heard they weren’t heading towards the protests. they’ve been in ballard for 2 months and last time i spoke to them, they were a ceo of a florist company. if i remember correctly, they’re a virgo and they remind me of a hot cup of starbucks coffee, plants scattered throughout the bedroom, reading alone in a library probably because they’re generous and reserved.

about

a girl who was born in las vegas, nv. she had wonderful parents that divorced when she was fourteen. however, she didn’t mind it at all. she was happy as long as they were. plus, she wanted a bigger family, so if they were going to remarry to other people, she was oddly okay with it too. mainly because of how she always wanted a bigger family since she’s an only child. eventually, that was what happened. five years ago, her dad remarried and soon, frankie had a step-mom and step-sibling. at first, she cared about them due to how much family already meant to the girl, but as months became years, she soon grew suspicious over the relationship between her step-mom and dad.

years ago, she was betrayed by her closest friends and now has a cynical view because she wasn’t able to forgive them. she was told multiple times to get over it, but couldn’t. she continued to wonder how people can be so close then do something harsh to another. it still astonishes her now and from that point on, she didn’t really let anyone into her life, thoughts, or feelings.

tl;dr one who prefers being with plants than people

details

pinterest

character aesthetics + inspo

n/a

traits

adaptable, distant, generous, grouchy, reserved, responsible

personality

she tends to be pessimistic because of her past and doesn’t want history to repeat itself, so she tends to not get too close to others. she may have two or three friends, but that’s about it. plus, she can be quite rude and cold-hearted to push others away.

however, she’s also very giving when it comes to charities because with so much money, she still wants to be kind to others, especially those who are in need.

when things change in her life, however, she faces them head on and is just calm about it.

aesthetics

walk-in closets but wearing the same 5 outfits, walking through trails, smelling fresh air, having polaroids of flowers, black hair ties, not needing glasses but wearing them for fashion, stacks of books that were actually used and read, a hot cup of starbucks coffee, plants scattered throughout the bedroom, a person reading alone in a library, being the wallflower at a party

style

most of her style is denim and single-colored tops with a lot of neutral colors. she tends to leave her hair longer than her shoulders and mainly leaves it down, but will put it in a ponytail once in a while.

headcanons

can be labeled as the anthomaniac or the recluse.

she comes from old money from her dad and new money from her mom.

the idea of frankie was originally from wanting to play a flower child, but not in a stereotype way.

she owns a florist company, but wants to place a shop in ballard.

she has this tattoo on her side.

her whole apartment is filled with plants, real and fake.

she has an ex who cheated on her when they were dating.

frankie prefers to use her time indoors watching movies/tv shows, taking care of her plants, reading, or simply going on the internet. 

if anything, she’s mainly the type to have a one night stand, but has kept only three or four friends with benefits all her life. and has one or two close friends.

--DYLAN GRAYSON

* rose park. twenty-four. cis female. she/her.  |  did you see dylan grayson this morning on main street? i heard they weren’t heading towards the protests. they’ve been in ballard for five months and last time i spoke to them, they were a voice actress & influencer. if i remember correctly, they’re an aries and they remind me of red lipstick, dealing with chaos behind doors, uploading youtube videos probably because they’re driven and shallow.  

about

since she was a baby, she was already adopted by mr. and mrs. grayson, a well-known old money family. past generations owned a huge company for properties and built malls across the country. which didn’t seem like such a big deal to the girl growing up. all she cared about was belonging somewhere and being with a family. she was even happier to have grown up with siblings. even her biological parents hardly came to mind because she was happy where she was. however, the older she became, the more chaotic her family seemed. there would be scandals written in articles about her family, secrets being revealed, and it felt dramatic fights happened almost every week. nonetheless, it didn’t matter to the girl. she was extremely loyal to her parents and siblings. she swore she’d do anything for them.

for her childhood, she grew up in ballard and she’s loved the town deep down. she thought about how cute the place was and cherished everyone. a reason why when she left during the beginning of high school, she was quite sad for a while. soon enough, she got over it though. she attended a private school, made friends with multiple people, and eventually graduated. moving onto college, she went to nyu then later on received both bachelor’s and master’s in business. during her time in college, however, the town centre mall was already built and didn’t hear word of it at the moment. eventually, thinking she was mature enough and able to handle it herself, she was given the town centre mall as a gift at the age of twenty-four.

tl;dr she was adopted from a rich family, that she loves very much, and now owns the town centre mall

details

pinterest

character aesthetics + inspo

the carringtons (dynasty 2017), fallon carrington (dynasty 2017), serena van der woodsen (gossip girl), stella (winx club)

traits

ambitious, cautious, driven, loyal, protective, shallow, materialistic

personality

she’s very determined and hard-working. when she wants something, she’ll do better than doing her best and work on getting it.

with being materialistic and shallow, she tends to think about appearance first. during her high school years, she 

aesthetics

microphones, red lipstick, dealing with chaos behind doors, uploading youtube videos, studio booths, scripts, shopping bags with expensive brand names, diamond necklaces, family portraits

style

80% of the time, she’ll be seen wearing a dress or matching 2-piece outfits. the other 20% are filled with patterned tops, jeans, faux fur coats, and skirts. a bit less than half of the dresses she own are sparkly too. while her shoes are mainly high heels and knee boots. as for her hair, she mostly leaves it down. she’ll also be seen wearing jewelry everyday.

headcanons

the girl just loves to go shopping. she’ll take anyone to go shopping with.

the reason one of her occupations is voice actress is because during her summers in high school and college, she took up jobs in voice acting since she wanted to go out into the entertainment business for a while, but didn’t quite feel comfortable singing or acting for tv shows and movies. she just preferred being in a booth and saying lines.

as for influencer, it started during her high school years as she mainly gave fashion advice and worked on make-up tutorials.

[kennedycatherine]

it was mine.

I remember the first time I spent a weekend with my new best friend in the third grade. 

She had these really kind of sweet, quiet parents. They were a little dull, very settled, very content, very routine. Every aspect of the weekend was scheduled and marked by these little “traditions” where everyone knew their role and exactly what was going to happen.

It was all so simple and kind of muted. Noiseless.

On Sunday my mom picked me up in the late morning and asked me how it was. 

“Different.”

My childhood was not noiseless. It was boisterous and full and sometimes a little chaotic. There were always friends coming and going, chatting loudly with my mom at the kitchen table, smoking in the garage with my dad. My sister and I’d adapted to falling asleep on many a family friends couch after being told for the 7th time “just 30 more minutes, babies.” By the age of 8, I could hold a better conversation with most adults than I could kids. 

It was charmed, entirely encased with love and because of that, I grew up with a lot of “pseudo parents.” People who were always there, undoubtedly, with a listening ear or open arms. They were my parents friends but they became my people too, in our own unique ways with our individual connections. 

It’s how I found myself, on a Friday night, pulling up outside a family friends home for a dinner party. I was 16 years old and going through what felt like a never ending “love isn’t real” phase. My sexuality was a mystery to a lot of people, myself included. All I knew for certain was that the idea of marriage made me deeply uncomfortable and this idea of romance I’d been sold by the novels I tried to read and the movies my friends liked to watch made me nothing but anxious. 

I wanted none of it.  

I let myself through the door and said hello to my parents, the biological ones, then hugged the other set, Dennis and Andrea. Plopping myself onto the bench at their kitchen table, I mumbled on about 11th grade finals and summer plans and listened intently to whatever other conversation was going on between rum and cokes and drags of cigarettes. 

Then Jane walked in.

I wish it didn’t sound cliche. Trust me, I wish it wasn’t fucking cliche. That’s the horror of my memories, it was all deeply, deeply cliche. And painfully obvious. 

I’d heard of her but we’d never met because her kids were mostly grown so she and her husband spent most of their time travelling when they weren’t working. I don’t remember being introduced to her or if we exchanged many words at all. What I remember most is that she couldn’t have been less interested in me. She was there to discuss a recent trip to Egypt with the friends she’d missed and I was just some obnoxious teenager she’d never met.

But it was well and truly over for me that night. 

The understanding that this was attraction was not clear to me, not immediately. She was just someone I thought was interesting, with a sort of reserved demeanour but wild stories and an incredibly successful career. I wanted to know more, I wanted her to tell me specifically, to look me in the eyes while she talked about whatever thing she’d be doing next. 

But she did not see me at all. And it was making me insane. 

I talked more loudly, I tried to make jokes, ask pointed questions. None of it mattered. I was annoyed. Being entertaining? Kind of my shtick! I was funny and charming and people noticed. She, however, did not give a shit. 

I left that night, drove away in my beat up Jeep Grand Cherokee, very likely listening to some variation of Bonnie Tyler or Bob Marley, wondering who the fuck she thought she was? 

Three days later, when I was still thinking about her, I decided it was because she’d injected a newness into a room that had become otherwise stale. And while that’s what I always craved, I was jealous. She was charming and engaging in a way that 16 year old me couldn’t be because I lacked the experiences she had. The ones I wanted. I just kind of wanted to be her. 

Right? 

Almost a year later, I was headed into my senior year of high school. I had no idea what life was going to look like for me but I had plans and dreams. I was thrilled. After my first week back at school, my dad planned a fishing trip for me, him and Dennis. One final hurrah before the end of summer  weather and the real beginning of school and homework and part time jobs. 

He was set to pick me up after my last class at 3:25 on Friday so I left that old Jeep, affectionally called Cher, back home for the day. But class ended and he was nowhere. I stood in the entrance of school, kicking rocks, calling and calling to no answer. My mom wasn’t picking up either. So I began what felt like the unreasonably long 45 minute walk home wondering what the fuck had happened to my dad and this supposed fishing trip we’d been talking about for days. 

The anger hit me square in the chest when I rounded the street and there, about 10 houses down, was my dads truck parked in our driveway. 

When I finally reached the house, I allowed the door to slam behind me and dropped my bag in the entrance, pissed off, huffy and a bit more than a little sweaty. But stepping into the kitchen I saw my dad, a man I’d never seen cry, not even at his own fathers funeral, was trying to compose himself and his tear stained face.

“Dad?”

“He’s dead.”

“What?”

“Dennis. This morning, he died.”

I laughed. “No, he didn’t. He didn’t?”

“He did, babe. He went over to our cabin to get stuff ready and he just - they found him. He collapsed. Heart attack.”

What happened after that is a blur of days, really. Dark and empty and sort of scary. I’d known people who’d died before but this was the first loss that felt like mine too. The first time I hadn’t felt like a bystander to the significant grief of someone else. Because I felt it. 

I remember walking into their house, still dressed in my sticky school clothes, so shocked by the people there. He’d been dead all of eight hours and there was already just - people? Milling, fussing, sitting, crying. It was sunny outside and none if it seemed to make any sort of fucking sense.

My dad was immediately gone from my side, busying himself with the inconvenient organization of death. My mom was out of sight, in the bedroom with the widow who’d been given so many pills she was nearly sedated. I didn’t know where to look or sit or how to contain my grief or how not to. Then I saw Jane, a familiar face.

She looked angry. 

I felt angry.

So, I sat next to her.

We didn’t say hello because it wasn’t really the kind of occasion for pleasantries. The silence only lasted a few moments before someones sob pierced through the stillness and my own shock began to wear off. Then the tears came. For a moment, I forgot where I was, trying to find a way out of this waking nightmare when a hand grabbed mine.

“He loved you so much, you know?”

I looked to Jane. “What?”

“He always talked about you like one of his own girls. You write, right? He was really proud of you.”

Then I cried harder. She did too. 

His death was shattering in ways I never expected. Probably because I never thought to expect it at all. Everyone kept on moving in this sort of fog, raw and changed. Andrea was often a person I didn’t recognize. My dad, a man who only knew strength and strong wit, was suddenly joyless and sort of aimless without his childhood best friend and lifelong companion. My mom was a bit frantic and a lot run down trying to keep the seams together for those who couldn’t really do it for themselves. 

Then.

My dad had a heart attack too. Just four months later. He survived and the fog was lifted in favour of fear and we all clung. To each other, to life. 

Those next few years, in some ways, became about renewal, reestablishing. We’d always felt like a bit of a rag tag, mish mosh “family” but it became even stronger, more defined. Sunday morning brunch at Andreas was no longer an option. It didn’t matter if I was hungover in a sweat suit, or my dad and the other guys wanted to be out hunting, we all crowded that table and passed our grief around with bacon and fruit salads. Friday nights were always spent on our deck, beers and joints and tequila bottles and stories. God, the stories. Sometimes I wonder if they all lied just to keep us entertained but if I’m being honest, I didn’t really care. We cried a lot in those years too. 

As we all navigated this newfound territory of feeling far more bound and at times, obligated to one another, Jane was around more. Death does that. We commune. 

At first, there was just too much. Too much pain, too much mandatory functioning that felt unnatural, a heavy burden when you just want to lie down and tell everyone to fuck off with the pleasantries. And for me, too much confusion. The reality that I was interested in and attracted to women was something I often overlooked in favour of believing that love was something that just wasn’t for me. Surely, I was just a lone wolf destined to be the family spinster. That felt much simpler. 

But it was becoming hard to deny. 

There was a birthday party. I can’t even remember who it was for. I was debating with my mom whether or not I had to go when she started rattling off the names of everyone she knew who’d be there. When I heard Janes name, the answer became clear to me. 

I looked forward to that party for weeks. When the night came, I rolled in not so reasonably late as the careless college student I was.

Jane wasn’t there. 

Minutes passed, then hours, the night was winding down and she wasn’t there. My heart was in my stomach. The disappointment seeped through every limb. I wanted so badly to ask someone where she was but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t know what I was feeling only that it wasn’t quite right and I was terrified that if I spoke her name, it would vibrate through my voice and someone would know. 

That night, incredibly drunk and a little bit stoned, I cried into my pillow. Because I was disappointed I hadn’t seen her, because I didn’t know when I would again but most of all, because I had no idea what any of it meant. 

Months later, by complete accident, we all ended up at the same place. The “family” was all there but I’d come without them, with my best friend. Late in the evening, I found myself at the bar at the same moment as Jane. The words that tumbled from my mouth all felt wrong and I grew more and more uneasy as the conversation went. But in no way did I want to walk away and I certainly didn’t want her to walk away. 

When the moment did end and I brought the drinks back to my table, my friend asked who I’d been talking to. I gave a brief explanation, opting to bypass the part about the intense emotional turmoil over whether or not I was in deep, deep lesbian love or lust with this woman. 

“Oh, she’s super pretty.”

“She is, right?” I asked, a little too forcefully, a bit too excitedly. 

And later that night when we all ended up at a table together, talking for hours, she said it again.

“She’s super pretty and she’s like, super successful and cool? Can I be her when we grow up?”

I was so fucking relieved. Having someone else, someone who was straight and in a loving and committed relationship with a man, reaffirm that Jane was a person worth admiring suddenly absolved me of any anxiety. 16 year old me had been right, I just wanted to be her.

But 16 year old me hadn’t cried in a pillow over not seeing her either, had she?

It was very likely only months from that moment when the grand Coming Out happened. It was a long time coming and despite the emotional turmoil, was rather simple and calming. I was just one of those people who really had to say it out loud before I could fully deal with it. And I did. 

At this point, the “Jane Cycle” had been turning for a few years. I’d convince myself it wasn’t love or something like it, I’d see her and I’d crumble. I mean, inconsolably upset for days and sometimes without even realizing why. I’d just be irritable and moody, upset with the world. But it was all because I’d had my hit of norepinephrine and dopamine just to have to walk away from it with no sense of when I’d get it again. It was painful. 

In coming out, I allowed the mask to be pulled off these “ambiguous feelings” I had for Jane. It wasn’t confusing. It was just a fact. I loved her. Not entirely, not implicitly, but in my own sort of tragic, puppy dog way, I did. 

The first time I saw her after the gay flag had been waved, I almost had to laugh. She was not nearly the terrifying, untouchable thing I’d been holding onto for years. She was just a person I was attracted to. Though a part of me was tempted to tell her, just as a “wink, wink, nudge, nudge silly kid, hey?” moment, I opted not to. Instead, I got drunk off jello shooters and tequila and flirted shamelessly with her. 

Until her husband laughed and affectionately called me a tease, lightly putting me in my place. Hold your judgements, okay? I adored her husband, he adored me. They’d been married longer than I’d been alive and ultimately, he was just thrilled to finally get to tell Jane, “I fucking told you so!” Because as it turns out, teenaged me was definitely not pulling off my sapphic yearning as subtly as I thought I was. 

Sometimes I become a bit sad for a younger me. The one who struggled through years of feeling very confused and kind of defective. Who wondered why she was incapable of feelings like everyone else. I hear stories and watch movies of teenagers going through these kind of shameless, embarrassing first fumbles in love with prom nights and adolescent movie dates. Then there’s the mandatory coming of age heart break with teenage girls eating ice cream and watching rom coms and trash talking the ex boyfriend of 2 weeks in the girls bathroom. It causes a momentary heartache for the girl who didn’t have that because for her, things felt more heavy and certainly a hell of a lot more complicated. 

Then I remind myself, in someways, I did get that. I got the embarrassing first fumbles and the painful, dramatic, crying into the pillow first heartbreak. Just, for me, it looked a little different. It wasn’t Tyler from Trigonometry class, it was Jane from the dinner party. 

And it was mine. 

[imsickoftheseshadows]

London - A Short Story.

Harping did not define the emotion I experienced, for several months, after Axel had left me. 

Of course, Axel was not the only man I had pined for; in fact, there was Jack, the other musician who had flown across the Atlantic at summer’s close; there was Tim, a film professor at my university, and Enrique, a South American artist who had told me he was possessed by the devil. But Axel, the New York singer and delicatessen owner, had been special – He was thirty-five, six-foot three, and rail thin, with a vague Williamsburg air that was pretentious enough to clot a Californian cocktail. His first record, evocative of Blade Runner’s score, was perpetually spinning in my bedroom. He was a frequent collaborator with James Murphy of LCD Soundsystem, who I had admired twice as much as Axel, though had little fantasies about (I will admit I had developed crushes on several of my favorite artists, though James was lower on the totem pole aesthetically than someone of Axel’s caliber).

This recollection isn’t about Axel, but I cannot tell this story without him.

My twenty-first year had proven uneventful – I still spent too much time in collegiate cafes, scrolling through online-dating profiles, and reflecting on whether or not I would ever be ready to leave my comfortably suburban dwellings. I sensed a trace of finality about this season. It was my last autumn enrolled in university, and I would be deciding whether to pursue a professorial path, or obtain stability between the walls of a cubicle. My distraction, Axel, visited biyearly, when we would meet either at The Standard or The Roosevelt, and I would make the pilgrimage to Los Angeles. Already half a year had passed, and Axel was not to return until the following January.

My town was in its final stretch of Indian Summer on this particular evening – The saffron sun unfurled the paper night, brittle and arid. I settled into my bedroom, arrested by the mushroom clouds of milk enveloping my black tea. Halloween was a fortnight away, though I would be spending it in class. I thought about Axel regularly, simultaneously a daydream and a diversion, envisaging the perpetual cigarette dangling from his mouth. Tonight, he weighed heavy in my mind. I picked up my phone, and began to stalk his social media.

Nothing remarkable, I thought, as I peered at his posts. One of Axel’s newest videos, a capture of him expertly playing with a Moog synthesizer, had an entrancing, obscure comment. My ex-girlfriend told me she hates music. The commenter was familiar. I tapped on his thumbnail. The eyes, mass of ginger hair, and Cheshire grin, were reminiscent of Malcolm McDowell in A Clockwork Orange. His profile betrayed him. Beneath his portrait was the name of his band, which I instantly recognized as the English musicians who had scored my first break-up, and had several alternative hits in the US. Lovehurt, I recalled, and began to murmur the lyrics. I thought nothing more of it, and decided to follow him.

I returned to my homepage, and began to think of getting ready for bed. A silent banner flashed across my screen -- GeorgeGibson has followed you. I reclined, falling betwixt my pillows, and held my phone over my head.

No harm in liking a few of his photos – Is three years ago too far? I sensed my desperation. I was in bed, fully-clothed, and it was nearing midnight. My tea had gone cold, and my cat was fast asleep at the foot of my bed. George was sensationally attractive, though I couldn’t imagine being so ambitious as to write to him.

My phone vibrated with another notification.

Hello Madame, it read, in the form of a direct message. I hesitated to respond. Is this really happening? I rolled over onto my belly. Where are you from, I typed. It’s quite late here.

I live in London, he replied. Have you ever been?

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We corresponded via WhatsApp over the course of two months – He sent me music; I responded with poetry. Facetime became our preferred mode of communication, though the time difference made it difficult to coordinate our video chats. I began to fear that our contact would eventually taper off, especially when my boredom seemed so conclusively quelled. I blocked Axel, in case George ever asked about us.

I’ve never left the country, I wrote, but I’ve always wanted to see England.

He had spoken of the prospect of me visiting him in prior conversations – I conjured up possible stories to tell my family, if I hypothetically, unexpectedly set off for London. We’re still strangers, I thought. Constant correspondences or not – But when will I ever have the chance to take a trip like this again?

I basked in this quaint fantasy by making an appointment to apply for a passport. No harm in having one of these on hand. I drove down to Orange County, two hours south of my house, to retrieve a copy of my birth certificate. My passport arrived within two weeks. Tickets to London were unreasonably cheap, though I had heard London in January was brutal. I wavered between fiction and reality – George, the famed musician, and George, the friend I had made, so eager to take me to the stationary shops with Italian stamps from the 1970s. I checked plane tickets daily, and told George I was on the verge of making a life-altering purchase.

Know I can only spend a couple of days with you, Taylor, he typed. My band will murder me if I’m away from our recording session for more than a weekend.

I was at my local café, alternating between sips of black coffee and bites of an overcooked frittata. My bangs had grown long enough to tuck behind my ears – I nervously fingered each strand, calculating my response. Christmas was to come and go, as though the seasons had become perpetually stagnant. It could rain for days, and the sky would still be a blaze of azure at dusk.

It doesn’t matter, I answered. The tickets are mine, and I arrive three weeks from today.

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I feigned connectivity issues. I silenced all notifications, and then turned on Airplane Mode. I wanted to be certain – I wanted to be confident that not a single person, even those I had entrusted with my private line, would contact me for the next five days. LAX was bustling with people, and I was anxious to remain remote until we were tens of thousands of feet above the technicolor skyline. I had no idea that there was one terminal for all departing international flights. I wore three sweaters to lighten my carry-on, and arrived six hours before my flight.

My parents did not know I was leaving until I boarded the plane. My mother sobbed when she found out, and I consoled her by stating I would phone her the second I landed. I didn’t. My story was simple: I was off to London for a girl’s trip with one of my best friends from high school. It was a spontaneous, last-minute decision that we decided we had to do before graduating college.

George was concerned. How could you not tell your parents, he had written, moments before I boarded the plane. My story was partially true – It was spontaneous, as in, I would have never left America if I hadn’t felt compelled to conduct a transatlantic, pseudo-love affair. George had urged me, and now my departure was met with cool reserve. I started to question my mental state. I ordered three glasses of wine, one after the other, upon takeoff. 

I touched down in London around 10 in the morning, and the ground had been veiled by impenetrable clouds, as though I had fallen into heaven – all was in reverse. I noted the specks of cars lining the roads in the opposite direction; the silver buildings and the lush foliage. The tarmac was barely visible from my window, but the jet bridge was clear – and on the other side would be a man and a city, and he was to be my tour guide for the first two days.

Before dealing with border control, I hurried to the airport’s restroom. No toilet seat covers. I caught a glimpse of my reflection -- Perspiration ruined my hair and the little makeup I had applied. Fortunately, I had a spare pair of hoop earrings in my purse, but my complexion remained ghastly. I rushed through the border, anxious in line. I quickly handed over my unblemished passport to the border control officer.

“Who do you know here?” I paused, searching for the answer in the lines of my arrival card.

“It’s a friend – An Internet friend, whom I will be checking into the Hilton in Islington with.”

The officers, an elderly man and towering woman, exchanged dubious glances. They asked for more information. I acquiesced, thrusted my return ticket in their faces, and after several minutes, was allowed through.

The escalator was in sight, and I began to sense an onset of anxiety – I am in a foreign country, about to check-in to my first hotel. I stumbled over my carmine suitcase as I approached the exit; my luggage matched my tired eyes. The heels I had worn so well in Los Angeles were unfit for cobblestone streets, and I clumsily found him, in the front of the crowd, with a ticket for the Heathrow Express in his right hand. 

We embraced, and upon contact, my visage colored damask rose. 

He was five-foot-eleven, and wore a brown bomber jacket with black leather boots. He pursed his lips, full and heavenly, while I stared, in awe. George was cool in a European sense – He owned boots, and trainers, and foreign vintage labels, but was a minimalist and adored neutral colorways. His accent, crisp and clipped, was warm, and I instantly wondered what it would be like to miss him after only two days.

He took my luggage with his left hand, and we dashed toward the train.

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We arrived at the Hilton in a black cab. He upgraded my room. We made love for an hour, and I thought I was going to faint.

“I want to take you around Islington,” he whispered. 

Morning had bled into afternoon, and we were languorous, lazy and lounging. I happily obliged, sensing the ghost of passion about my being. I changed into a dress, and reapplied my eyeliner, but remained equal parts self-conscious and jet-lagged. Does he find me as attractive as he did online? It was frivolous to question this, though my mind was tainted with uncertain thoughts. He put on his trousers, then laced up his boots. My parka, bought at a discount, was colossal for my frame. He smiled endearingly, and we took the elevator to the lobby.

I was clumsy against cobblestone, my ankles buckling beneath me – George caught me twice, and kissed me with each fall. We arrived at a bijou cocktail lounge in Clerkenwell, which appeared to be a repurposed home – the corridor led into segregated rooms, with hundreds of vintage books along each wall. We both had whiskey – This will wake you up. I quietly quaffed my drink, while he took apathetic sips of his. He grasped my hand.

“It’s so lovely that you’re here,” he paused, studying my expression. “Are you feeling okay?”

I was drowsy, disengaged, and enamored. The stained-glass windows could not hide the somber skies, yet I gazed at each cloud lovingly. Everything was perfect.

He took me to another lounge, and then to the British Film Institute, where I imbibed a glass of Malbec in the café. A Hot Chip song boomed through the stereo, and he reminisced the time that he played at a festival with them. Alt-J played next, and he discussed his disdain. I finished my drink and wandered toward the gift shop, where I searched for obscure British DVDs, blissfully unaware that they were region 2 locked (until arriving home). I hung onto his every recommendation, as a schoolgirl would a handsome instructor. I chose Jean-Luc Godard cinema critiques and Stanley Kubrick’s photo book. He picked up a copy of Caligula.

By nightfall, we had arrived at our final bar, which was two-stories, with the bottom floor having been fashioned from a basement. A beautiful woman in a blue beret was reading Proust by the entrance, and he commented on the pretentiousness of the lounge. We went back to the hotel shortly after, as my exhaustion had faded into delirium.

I woke up around 2 am. I noticed that he had spilt tears of wine; red vino, according to the bottle, a Tempranillo. I think I had it in Echo Park one lonely summer ago. The crisp, white sheets were speckled with blood. He turned over, noticing that I was awake – He kissed me, and I realized that I was ravenous, for the first time since leaving Los Angeles. 

He went to buy us a kebab, England’s guiltiest pleasure (I found this out much later). He left the BBC on, and the reporter was exploring Donald Trump’s ascension to the presidency. Not here. I changed the channel, and absentmindedly flipped past an Amy Winehouse documentary. I began to thumb through my newly acquired Jean-Luc Godard book, then sifted through the treasures of the day.

By the second chapter, the door swung open, and George appeared, grinning, with a fistful of candy and two kebabs. I pulled the covers over my head as he fell into bed next to me; devouring the kebab, popping open a can of Coca Cola. He unfastened his duffel bag, and revealed bags of chips not sold in America. I clasped the delicacies close to my heart, and dissected the Reese’s Pieces bar.

“You don’t understand,” I laughed. “This is a novelty to me!”

We finished our respective dinners, and slept until noon.

Our room was littered with candy-wrappers and wine bottles; our ardent affair had been in view of several landmarks – the London Eye was in sight, and Big Ben was covered in scaffolding.

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The following day, George showed me his favorite stationary store, Present & Correct. He bought a stamp book, and then promptly lost it at the second scarlet pub we went to. We began our afternoon at a café, where everyone drank their coffee black and from a French press. The coffee was rich enough that creamer was unnecessary – I tasted it slowly, for pleasure, and because I knew he would be leaving at midnight. We went back to the British Film Institute, and he explained a music project he conducted, where he had recorded the sounds of London, while I examined other books from more obscure directors. I kept forgetting that I listened to his music for a number of years before knowing who he was. He stopped speaking for a moment, and shyly reached for my hand.

“George,” I paused. “Do you really have to leave tonight?”

He waited, appearing distraught. “I want you to come be with me in the summer. Can you do that?”

We sauntered to another pub, each one more grandiose than the last. I began to drink out of apprehension, dissolving my worry with each swallow. I wasn’t sure if he noticed – If he did, he didn’t seem to mind. I grew bored of the pub; I grew exhausted of our reservations. I remained awestruck, which translated into perceivable uneasiness, and called for medicinal drinking.

We stopped in Charing Cross, London, after mindlessly walking through the city. He stopped to show me his old apartment, which was built beneath one of the many cobblestone streets. I was two glasses of wine in, and twice as lecherous. He took me to Foyles, knowing such bookstores had fallen out of popularity in America. I bought a book on witchcraft, a Gustav Klimt novel (solely because of a chapter titled “Klimt’s Women”), and an autobiography entitled Art Sex Music (a friend I met later would call this his curriculum vitae) at George’s urging. I didn’t want to forget my fleeting emotions, nor him. I knew our time together was rapidly dissipating. The sky had blackened, as had my mood, though the wine began to enhance my synthetic insouciance.

George chose an Italian restaurant – Why not beans on toast? I knew nothing of British cuisine, and trusted his selection. We sat next to a heat lamp outdoors, in the frigid night, as there were no seats left inside. I peeled off my homely parka, even though I was cold, to remind him of desire. We caroused some more, and I embarrassed myself with comments of a dramatically wretched past – A lack of female friendship, men in power that had plagued my adolescence, and inappropriate commentary on my familial ties. He politely beamed the entire way through, even as I mistakenly slurped my pasta, and messily consumed a slice of his pork pizza. I poured the remainder of the Tempranillo into my glass, and asked him again to stay.

I was not immune to the social anxiety I faced at home – Abroad, I was aware of my unpalatable Californian accent and absence of fashionable clothing. I became hyper-conscious of my unnaturally stiff disposition. He was understanding, but courteously, clinically so. I knew I would be infatuated with him for months after our transatlantic love affair -- I silently wondered if he would ever tell Axel about a young, nameless brunette girl from Los Angeles, who flew across the Atlantic Ocean to make love to him.

He walked me back to the hotel, as I half-smiled and asked him to be with me one final time.

“We’re never going to see each other again.” I spoke with finality.

“I know we will. I’m coming to Los Angeles soon, don’t cry.”

As soon as the door slammed shut, I undressed, filled the bathtub, then mourned my solitude – a constant sob ebbed and flowed. I wrote, incomprehensibly, in my sanguine, store-bought moleskin journal. I took my phone off airplane mode. I sent him a thank you note, fully understanding that I would never see him again. Several moments passed, and twenty text messages from my family came through. I turned on the BBC, and stayed up all night. I became pragmatic at the break of dawn.

I texted my friends, those of which who had known of my secret trip, and then fell into fits of laughter, for two reasons:

I had no idea why I was crying at the Hilton, in a double bed, and God, I had gotten stupidly wine-drunk.

[readysetgaikokujin]

Feelings now that I’m used to my home in NC

This is a list! Therefore read more!

- Nostalgia my mom’s house is full of stuff that’s been a constant for me since I can remember. We’ve never moved from this house. My nephew’s height’s being written on the same doorjamb as my height was written. My toys are becoming his toys. My mom’s vinyls are upstairs just waiting to be put on while we dust and clean together. Sussudio ftw.

- Self-doubt you show different parts of yourself to different people, and it doesn’t make those parts of you any less valid. But the Sami that Aomori people know isn’t the Sami Mebane people know. There are people I knew in high school who really want to meet me, to see me, hug me. I haven’t seen them in person in nigh near 10 yrs now, or I only saw some of them in passing a few years ago. It makes me feel rather adult, rather desperate, and also kind of like an imposter. “Why want me, precious?” my brain keeps saying in the Smeagol voice. “Why me?”

- Freedom this one is the best one. I can wake up whenever I choose (which is about 730 am haha, can’t beat 5 years of education major early mornings and then 5 years of teaching out of you in a month), and then eat whatever I want. Keto is a thing here. Sugarfree is a thing here. Soy wraps are a thing here, spaghetti squash, feta cheese, pepperjack, omfg the cheeese. I can just eat some salami if I’m peckish, and even though I’ve been craving natto lately I really am loving the freedom of food choice. I can also wear what I want, do what I want, and relax as long as I want. It’s kind of nice to feel like I’m alone with people around me, if that makes sense?

- Overwhelmed sometimes it’s the fact that my siblings are growing up without me. My brother’s finishing his degree, and he’s made me so proud. We talk about getting to know each other all over again because we’re both adults now, and we’re everchanging. My sister’s married, bought a house, has dogs, is thinking about a second child in the next few years. She’s almost finished her degree. She’s amazing, and it’s weird that she’s also nearer to thirty than far from it. I see my older family members, how some aren’t doing so well, how some are suffering. My brother is also involved with a lot of activism, as is my sister. Bro is photojournalim, sis is public health. The way they speak about the world, I feel kind of useless and stagnant. What am I doing from Japan? What can I do?

- Wal*mart wal*mart get its own feeling, you know it’s true. Just to throw a lighter note in here. I am having a hard time not staring at peoples’ tattoos, whether they’re good or bad, and I go out in a crop top and am not the least-dressed person in the building. It is its own world. I don’t... it’s its own feeling.

- Torn when I’m in Japan, I miss America and Canada, and my family. When I’m with my family in America or Canada, I miss Japan, and my friends. Am I always going to feel like this? I’ve made a horrible, beautiful, poignant fucking mistake. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. It’s kind of nice to have your heart in multiple places. I can imagine people who’ve lived in multiple countries feel the same. Or similar.

- Happy this one speaks for itself. Also, my skin finally isn’t hateful now that I’m back in America/hydrating/sleeping more/less stressed. I wake up and feel good. It’s strange not to be stressed. This is new for me, I’m almost like... looking for ways to MAKE stress because that’s my comfort zone.

- Myself I’ve been thinking a lot about who I am. I defined myself as AJET president, as RR, as a teacher for so long. Taking away those things, who am I? I guess a rather cynical view I’ve had for a while is this: I’m a person who cares too much about outside validation. I’m a person who wants to be seen as good, because maybe if I’m seen that way, it means I’m successfully putting good into the world. I’m a person who wants to be liked, sometimes at the detriment of what I want to do. And I don’t want to be any of that anymore. I want to focus on my hustle without feeling like who says what has any effect on me. I don’t care for JET drama, because it reminds me too much of being in high school, and I’m fast approaching 30. I also know that I’m prone to being judgmental, and vocal. Nobody NEEDS my viewpoint on their life, really. I know the type of people I want in my life, and the type of people I don’t, and I know that everyone is just doing their best and they don’t need my input in their lives. I know what I want to do with myself, and that alone is enough to validate my work. I’ve had a LOT of time to think about what makes me ME, without any of the fluff or things I’ve done in the past that I am not doing now. I’m creative, empathetic, selfish, and motivated. I want to be good to people in general, without sacrificing how good I am to myself. I’m working on it haha.

Anyway. Some reverse culture shock has happened. Wtf NC, please use turn signals. Also, small talk is a thing I’m getting used to, and everyone should make eye contact and smile at their waiters and waitresses, what are you doing everyone who doesn’t???

Update, also! Getting my left arm half-sleeve done in PA on the 4th. Expect pics. I’m so excited my heart could burst. Within the next two years, I’ll be trying my best to cover my body as much as possible. I’m tired of waiting patiently. If I have the money, I’ve got the artists. Let’s get my body looking how I envision it in my mind.

Also update two, I want to try to get into group activities in Hirosaki, Tsugaru, or Gosh, or the Shi when I get back to Aomori. @sun-kissedwinter @manystarredface @beware @wildwolf25 if you know of fun things, please let me know. Sorry to tag you in a long ass post, I’ll hopefully be seeing more of y’all now that I’m not a long ass drive away. I’ve talked to people about bouldering, wanna grip a rock real good. But I want to engage instead of isolate like I did this last year.

My mind is getting figured out.

Want to figure out my body/socialization (੭ु˙꒳˙)੭ु⁾⁾

[wineanddinosaur]

Amy Racine’s Bringing ‘Vegetable-Forward’ Cocktails to Health-Conscious Hollywood

Whether it’s creating savory cocktails with avocados and mushrooms, or eyeing diners’ main courses so she can swing by and pour the best accompanying wine, Amy Racine’s passion for food and beverage all stems back to her Cleveland upbringing.

Dinner was served at 5 p.m. sharp and always included generous servings of veggies, many of which she experiments with in her cocktails today. Sundays were spent grilling, whipping up Caesar dressing and cooking Calabrian tomato sauce for family feasts that kicked off in the late afternoon and stretched into the evening.

“Wine was always around that table and the kids were allowed a taste,” recalls Racine, 33. “My parents were really tuned into the world of wine. They were teaching me what Montepulciano was when I was a preteen.”

By the third grade of elementary school, Racine dreamed of becoming a chef — her ambitions bolstered by Food Network programs such as “The Rachael Ray Show” — and as a driven high schooler, she worked at restaurants to help her college applications.

She got into and attended Hyde Park, N.Y.’s Culinary Institute of America, and was captivated by a winemaking course. “The running joke was that everybody dreaded it and failed because it was the most difficult class, but I enjoyed it,” Racine says.

Her love for wine and food merged once she headed to California and became immersed in fresh produce while spending time in Napa Valley, then becoming wine director for San Francisco restaurant Sons & Daughters. “It’s part of the culture in California to be vegetable-forward and I loved that,” says Racine, who began gravitating toward vegetables and fish as she grew older. “I felt like nobody else in the U.S. was growing produce like California.”

Racine eventually hit New York City to gain experience in the culinary mecca. She met John Fraser and instantly clicked with the vegetable-centric, Michelin-starred chef’s values. She’s now beverage director for John Fraser Restaurants, overseeing spots including Ardor at The Edition in West Hollywood, and New York’s The Loyal and North Fork Table and Inn.

Racine chatted to VinePair about breaking winemaker stereotypes, how the pandemic is evolving the beverage industry, and why veggies are great in cocktails.

1. At 25, you were one of the youngest females to pass the Court of Master Sommeliers Advanced Exam in the first pass. What were some of the challenges as a younger person entering the industry?

There was and still is a running joke that a sommelier’s an older, white male wearing a tastavin around his neck, who’s snooty and rude. There’s been many instances where I’ve approached a table and people say, “We’d like to speak to the sommelier. Is he available?” It’s sad, but we’ve come a long way. I’ve gained experience and competence in approaching a table and people have more awareness about gender equality, so it’s not happening as frequently.

2. What do you bring to the industry as a younger female?

A fresher mindset. That person who sticks their nose up to guests is no better than I am. Knowing I’m not what somebody’s expecting is something I’m grateful for because it gives me a different perspective and appreciation.

I also have a fresher mindset coming from a super-traditional and structured home life, and then moving to bigger cities in California. It opened my eyes to how things don’t have to be a certain way, and how people are doing great things in the industry regardless of background, gender, or race.

3. What prompted transitioning more into restaurants and cocktails [from wine]?

I remember doing my externship at The Greenbrier in West Virginia. I was this sweaty, scared student watching the beverage director speaking with the chef and the way they interacted during this big event made me go, “I want that guy’s job.” It was a defining moment of seeing somebody interact with both front-of-house and back — being involved in the food, cocktails, and service seemed really cool.

When I started with John [Fraser, of JF Restaurants], I said, “I’d love to be wine director of multiple units,” and after that happened, I said, “I’d love to be beverage director of multiple units.” It was five years working towards it, but I knew the ins and outs of his company and of beverage, so it made sense.

4. John [Fraser] is known for his vegetable-forward food and you’ve created a menu to reflect this at Ardor. People don’t commonly associate vegetables with cocktails. Why is it a good combination?

Vegetables are fun! If you say “vegetable cocktail,” most people imagine green juice with a shot of tequila; but in my mind, people are in a restaurant for food, so beverage should complement that rather than [serving] a green juice with booze, which is a meal in itself.

It’s like making a Martini with an olive garnish — you can do little twists and go, “What if it was a pickled mushroom instead?” We want to make different moves, but show restraint and not make a meal of it.

5. What’s the process of creating cocktails to complement John’s dishes?

John will share his vision for the property he’s opening and we’ll go through tastings for the culinary menu, then I’ll tell the head bartender, “We want a cocktail that fits this, which is vodka-based, has mushroom in it, and echoes a Martini. What do you suggest?” Then we’ll fine-tune and tweak. There’s many people and talents involved!

6. That explains the Martini-style “Clear” cocktail with its pickled pioppino mushroom. Ardor also has the “Green” vodka cocktail with avocado. How does avocado fare in cocktails?

The avocado’s shaken with ice, so it’s adding texture. It’s not a big sludgy, green drink. It adds texture and some fat — like how fat-washing was big in cocktails not too long ago.

7. Have there been any vegetables you’ve experimented with that didn’t work in cocktails? And which vegetable has surprised you most with how good it is in drinks?

I have a hard time with beets! We’ve done some beet cocktails, but they always feel very earthy and aren’t my favorite. Artichoke’s a good one. They’re not for everybody, but we used Cynar, which is artichoke-based, in the “Black” cocktail at Ardor.

8. Why do you think vegetable-forward cocktails will take off in Hollywood?

I think people in Hollywood, and California, are very conscious of what they’re putting into their bodies, and knowledgeable about sustainability and how products have gotten to a place. I think they’ll do well because we’re using ingredients that are sourced and grown thoughtfully.

And, nearly all the cocktails are based off of classic cocktails, so when you see tequila and grapefruit, you think of a Paloma; or when you see espresso, you think of an Espresso Martini. They’re cocktails people can link to something they’ve had before, but we’re using ingredients in ways they haven’t experienced.

9. Society’s so much more conscious about eating meat these days. Do you think that makes using vegetables in new ways even more appealing?

Yes, but I also think after being at home over the past year, everyone’s making their own cocktails. Someone who might’ve gone out and had a Manhattan all the time learned how to make one. People were already becoming more knowledgeable about cocktails, wine and culinary through social media — you can get recipes from Thomas Keller or read about somebody’s new wine label so easily — but they were forced to do it at home last year.

Had that not happened, the world of cocktails and culinary would be in a different spot right now. It has pushed the food and beverage industry to be an extra step ahead, because if everyone’s learning the basics, it’s like, “How do we make a Martini different again?”

10. What do your parents think about you inheriting their love for food and beverage and turning it into a career?

The alcohol part made them nervous at first! Now, they love it because we’ll go to wineries together. They were like, “I didn’t realize how much you were paying attention at the dinner table.” I didn’t realize myself how impactful those moments of wine being on the table were until recently. I never went through a crazy teenage phase of abusing alcohol, because I learned to respect it and view it as part of a meal rather than a drug, from an early age. As for the culinary side, my parents are very happy about that!

The article Amy Racine’s Bringing ‘Vegetable-Forward’ Cocktails to Health-Conscious Hollywood appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/amy-racine-vegetable-cocktails-hollywood/

[lardosundercut]

Assorted Instances of Justin Oluransi’s Regularly Scheduled Impulsivity

Ransom Week Day Four:

cacoethes - “an urge to do something inadvisable”

"I have a theory about you," Lardo said slowly.

Ransom rolled his eyes fondly, reaching out to take the pipe out of her hand. They were up in the reading room, taking a much-needed study break to smoke and pretend that graduation isn't just two weeks away. Lardo had stretched herself out like a cat in the sun, her legs across his and one arm cushioning her own head. 

She didn't seem bothered by the eye-rolling or the joint snatch. No, Lardo watched him with warm and affectionate eyes as Ransom relit the bowl and inhaled. To be honest, he didn't smoke nearly as much as some of the other guys on the team and it was still a heady experience. Lardo kept watching and, when Ransom finally exhaled, she continued.

"Every now and then," she explained slowly, "Your spreadsheet instinct hits its max, bro. That's why once a calendar year you do something that's fucking nuts. No shade intended, of course."

"None taken," Ransom replied easily.

Then, when his brain caught up with what Lards just said, he added, "And I so don't go nuts on a schedule."

"Brooo," Lardo said in a tone that demanded introspection, "Know thyself."

x

The summer after his freshman year, Ransom was pretty bored. His older sister was on a summer study abroad and his baby sister acquired a girlfriend sometime while Ransom was at Samwell, so they were both gone. His parents were thrilled to have him back, but that didn't mean they could quit their jobs for the summer just to hang out with him. Hell, even the majority of his high school friends were busy either with jobs back home or decided to stay at their respective college campuses for the break.

A month in and Ransom has already perfected his summer workout routine, read a half-dozen books, and debated whether or not the rest of the team would hate him if he brought a dog back to the Haus next year. (Those sad animal shelter commercials get to him, okay?) He was bemoaning this fact to Holster via text message. Holster, the tru-est bro, returned the favor by waxing rhapsodic about how much fun they'd be having if they could only be together. And, suddenly, things slid into place in Ransom's mind.

Grabbing his laptop, he did about five minutes of solid googling and another ten of throwing stuff together before calling Holster.

"Bro, did you realize you're only like thirty minutes away from Niagra Falls?" Ransom said, putting the call onto speaker as he sent out a quick series of texts to his family. "And that you can get a Holiday Inn room for less than eighty bucks?"

"Uh, yeah?" Holster said, then underwhelmingly, "And what?"

Ransom scrolled through his spotify quickly, selecting the playlist he typically reserved for roadies. Checking his mirrors, he realized this was one on those rare moments that he and Holster had not immediately been on the same page since they met last year. As he tapped the address into his GPS, he explained, "I'm driving to the Falls. You're going to meet me and we're going to have a 'swawesome weekend. I'll be there in like two hours."

"Oh," Holster replied, "Fuckin' sweet."

And thus, a tradition was born.

x

Despite the stress levels that meant he'd probably go grey by thirty, he'd managed to get through the MCATs with decent scores.

Well. More than decent really. He wasn't boasting the elusive 528 or even in the 520 range, he'd still past the bell curve. Scores that meant he'd get into pretty much any of the med schools on his list to complete preliminary apps for. Which meant now was the time to start working on his personal statements and deciding if his roadie suit was good enough for interviews and talking to Hall and Murray about how he was supposed to work interviews into the schedule while he's co-captain. Plus, there's figuring out if the list of schools he put down as potentials for preliminary applications are even good fits anymore. He wanted to stay on the east coast because it's where so many of his friends are. But a lot of east coast schools are super competitive and he isn't sure what he wants to specialize in yet and, ergo, he isn't sure if the program he wants to joinn is even on the coast.

It's a lot and, to be honest, Ransom's brain went a little numb whenever he thought about it. Sure, he's gone into coral reef mode a ton of times and someone has had to lure him out from under a library table with food. But even with that, Samwell has been fun. Med school is real and, from all the message boards he's scoured, it's less fun and more coral reef mode 24/7.

"I don't want to do it," Ransom grumbled as he began to pack his stuff up for the semester.

Then don't, a voice in the back of his head replied.

Ransom paused, a bundle of underwear still clutched to his chest. MCAT scores were good for, like, three years. Everyone was going to be either in Boston or Samwell or Providence in the next three years. Holster has pretty much talked non-stop about how much bank he was going to make in consulting since he declared Econ partway through their sophomore year. It could be easy and fun for another two years - three if he really pushed it.

He doesn't dare to tell a soul about his decision to defer - not when he's only just got his scores back. Still, as Ransom turned back to his packing, it was with a delighted zeal because he was so not getting into med school next year.

x

"Don't freak out," Ransom warned, tugging the hem of his shirt up halfway so his navel his visible.

On the bed (technically Holster's, but it was a bitch for them both to get up to the top bunk), Nursey snorted and set down the book he was reading. Things between them aren't really defined - not yet at least - and that made all of this seem a little crazy, in retrospect. Still, Ransom figured it would be best for Nursey to find out now than during a semi-drunk hook up after the keagster. Turning around to face the wall, Ransom pulled off his shirt and stood, half-dressed in his bedroom.

Nursey made a soft sound of appreciation, followed by, "Not saying you're not gorgeous, but I don't see the point in freaking out about something I've already seen up close and personal."

"Dude, you were so not chill about the same sight a few nights ago," Ransom chirped back.

Still, warmth spread through him at being called gorgeous (a word not usually reserved for big, bad D-men) and he turned around. It didn't take long for Nursey to spot it. He jerked up in order to get a closer look, hand flying to reach out for Ransom's chest. The tattoo wasn't huge or anything - just the two simple, crossed hockey sticks that made up the Samwell Hockey logo. Except, instead of a puck in the middle, there was a single, neatly printed number: 28.

It had seemed like a really good idea when he and Lardo had all gone in to get not-quite-matching tattoos. Both of them based there's off the Samwell logo, though Lardo had sketched up an appropriately artsy-fartsy version for her own tattoo. Ransom decided that his own minor tweak would suffice. And Holster, never to be left out of a senior outing, declined to get his own tattoo but held both their hands while they got inked, muttering about "b'tzelem Elohim".

It hasn't even been a full week that Ransom has had the tattoo, but the anticipation of waiting to show Nursey had already gotten to be too much. He delicately evicted Holster from the attic for the express purpose of showing Nursey the tattoo and now, standing with his shirt off and the other man's hand hovering over his pec, Ransom began to wonder if he should have asked first. This was his first tattoo and, to be honest, he hadn't thought to consider the etiquette beforehand.

"It's 'swawesome," Nursey finally said. "Do you want me to get a matching one? But, like, with your number?"

Ransom hadn't considered that being a possibility. Though, the idea of having a matching tattoo with Nursey - something that would undeniably link them forever - made the warm feeling rush over him again. He leaned in, pressing a light kiss to Nursey's temple. It's a benefit of not-officially-dating-but-not-seeing-other-people with someone who's the same height as him: minimal neck craning or back bending required for optimal smooches. Trying not to sound too sappy, Ransom replied, "I want you to do whatever you want, dude. Just let me come along for the ride."

Nursey smiled at that, face flushing as he finally pressed his hands against Ransom's chest, carefully avoiding the fresh tattoo. He kissed Ransom this time, aiming for the mouth and delivering something much hotter and deeper.

"Tattoo talk later," he said into Ransom's neck, "Kissing now?"

Ransom wasn't going to argue with that.

x

"Shit," Ransom said, sitting up quickly enough to jostle Lardo's feet. "You're right. Even my impulsivity has a pattern to it. Who does that?"

On his side, Lardo just readjusted her feet and blew a little smoke into his face. She smiled and patted his hand comfortingly and passed back the pipe. She'd never say it when they were both lazy and content from the weed, but she got an enormous amount of satisfaction from being right.

[not-the-girl-of-your-dreams]

Tessa & Hardin After ever Happy

He wants to remind her that whatever their souls are made of, his and hers are the same. Their favorite novel said it best.

I gather every last bit of strength left inside me and leave the scattered pages on the floor of the apartment, the last page of the book still in my hand.

His hair is longer than it looked in the pictures I’ve seen of him recently. I can’t help that I’ve been reading every single one of his interviews, every article about him, whether it’s true or false, and maybe, just maybe, I’ve emailed a few heated complaints to bloggers who have printed terrible things about him and his story. Our story.

The sight of the metal ring in his lip surprises me, even though I knew it had reappeared. I had forgotten how good it looks on him in person. I’m taken, absolutely consumed, by seeing him again, thrown back into a world where I fought hard in and lost nearly every battle that was thrown my way, only to leave without the one thing that I was fighting for: him.

“We need someone to walk with Tessa; her boyfriend didn’t show up,” someone says. At the mention of my name, Hardin’s focus snaps forward; his eyes search for half a second before he finds me. I break the connection first, looking down at my high heels barely peeking out from underneathmy floor-length dress.

“Who’s walking with the maid of honor?” the bride’s sister asks everyone nearby. “There’s too much going on,” she says with a huff as she walks past me. I’ve done more than she has for this wedding, but her stress level would make you believe otherwise.

“I am,” Hardin says, raising his hand.

He looks so put together, so devastatingly handsome in a black tuxedo with no tie. Black ink shows just above the clean white collar, and I feel a soft touch on my arm. I blink a few times, trying not to focus on the way we barely spoke last night and how we didn’t practice walking together like we should have. I nod, clearing my throat and tearing my eyes away from Hardin.

“All right, then, let’s go,” the sister says imperiously. “Groom to the altar, please.” She claps her hands and Landon rushes past, gently squeezing my hand en route.

Breathe in. Breathe out. It’s only for afew minutes, less than that really. It’s not that difficult of a concept. We are friends. I can do this.

For Landon’s wedding, of course. Momentarily, I battle within myself to not think about walking down the aisle with him for our own special day.

Hardin stands next to me without a word, and the music begins. He’s staring at me—I know that he is—but I can’t bring myself to glance up at him. With these shoes, I’m near his height, and he’s standing so closely that I can smell the soft cologne clinging to his tux.

The small church has been transformed into a beautiful yet simple venue, and the guests have quietly filled almost every row. Beautiful flowers, so brightly colored that they may as well be neon, cover the old wooden pews, and white cloth is draped from row to row.

“It’s a little too bright, don’t you think? I think simple red and white lilies would have done the trick,” Hardin surprises meby saying. His arm loops through mine as the snooty sister waves for the two of us to begin our descent down the aisle.

“Yeah, lilies would have been gorgeous. This is nice, too, for them,” I fumble.

“Your doctor boyfriend cleans up nicely,” Hardin taunts me. I look over to find him smiling, only teasing behind his green eyes. His jawline is even more defined than before, and his eyes are deeper, not as guarded as they always were.

“He’s in med school, not a doctor yet. And yes, he cleans up nicely. You know he’s not my boyfriend, so hush.” Over the last two years I have had this same conversation with Hardin again and again. Robert has been a constant friend in my life, nothing more. We tried dating once, about a year after I found Hardin’s manuscript in my New York apartment, but it just didn’t work. You shouldn’t date someone if your heart is owned by someone else. It doesn’t work, trust me.

“How are you two? It’s been a year now,hasn’t it?” His voice betrays the emotion he’s trying to hide.

“What about you? You and that blonde. What was her name?” This aisle is a lot longer to walk down than it looked from the hallway. “Oh, yeah, Eliza or something?”

He chuckles. “Ha-ha.”

I like to give him shit about a fan-turned-stalker of his named Eliza. I know he hasn’t slept with her, but it’s fun to tease him when I see him.

“Baby, the last blonde I had in my bed was you.” He smiles. My feet catch, and Hardin grips my elbow, steadying me before I fall face-first onto the white silk covering the aisle.

“Is that so?”

“Yep.” He keeps his eyes toward the front of the church where Landon stands.

“You put your lip ring back in.” I change the subject before I embarrass myself further. We walk past my mother, sittingquietly next to her husband, David. She looks slightly worried, but I give her credit when she smiles at Hardin and me when we pass. David leans into her, whispering something, and she smiles again, nodding to him.

“She seems much happier now,” Hardin whispers. We probably shouldn’t be talking as we walk down the aisle, but Hardin and I are known for doing things that we shouldn’t do.

I’ve missed him more than I’m letting on. I’ve only seen him six times in the last two years, and each time only made me ache for him more.

“She is. David has been an incredible influence on her.”

“I know, she told me.”

I stop again. This time Hardin smiles while helping me continue down the never-ending aisle. “What do you mean?”

“Your mum, I’ve spoken to her a few times. You know that.”I have no clue what he’s talking about.

“She came to a signing last month, when my second book came out.”

What? “What did she say?” My voice is too loud, and a few guests stare at us for much too long.

“We will talk after this. I promised Landon that I wouldn’t ruin his wedding.”

Hardin smiles at me as we reach the altar, and I try, I really do try, to focus on my best friend’s wedding.

But I can’t keep my eyes or mind off the best man.

“I thought I would save you from dancing with him, he’s a little short. Terrible dance partner,” I finally say when I can pull my head out of my ass.

“He told me you bribed him.” She smiles at me, shaking her head.

“That little fucker.” I glare at the traitor as he sits back down at a table, alone again.

“This song,” Tessa softly laughs. “Of course they would play this song.”

I brush a loose curl away from her eyes, and she swallows, blinking slowly. “I’m so happy for you, Hardin. You’re an incredible author, an activist for self-recovery and alcohol addiction. I saw that interview you did with the Times about dealing with abuse as a child.” Her eyes well up, and I’m positive that if her tears spill, I may lose all composure.

“It’s nothing, really.” I shrug, loving her being proud of me, but feeling guilty for what it caused her. “I never expected any of this; you have to know that. I didn’t mean for you to be embarrassed publicly by me writing that book.” I’ve told her this so many times, and she always has the same positive response.

“Don’t worry about it.” She smiles up at me. “It wasn’t so bad, and you know, you’ve

“This should be our wedding,” I blurt.

Her feet stop moving, and some of the glow disappears from her beautiful skin. “Hardin.” She glares at me.

“Theresa,” I tease. I’m not joking, and she knows it. “I thought that last page was going to change your mind. I really did.”

Maybe they’ll be different, though.

I take the microphone from the ornery woman and clear my throat. “Hey.” My voice sounds weird as fuck, and I can tell by Landon’s face that he’s going to enjoy this. “I don’t like talking in front of a lot of people usually. Hell, I don’t even like being around people usually, so I’m going to make this quick,” I promise the roomful of wedding guests. “Most of you are probably drunk or bored to death anyway, so feel free to ignore this.”

“Get to the point.” Landon’s bridelaughs, holding up a glass of champagne. Landon nods in agreement, and I flip them both off in front of everyone. Tessa, in the front row, laughs and covers her mouth. “See, I wrote this down, because I didn’t want to forget what to say.”

I pull a crinkled napkin from my pocket and unfold it. “When I first met Landon, I instantly hated him.” Everyone laughs as if I’m joking, but I’m not. I did hate him, but only because I hated myself.

“He had everything that I wanted in life: a family, a girlfriend, a plan for his future.” When I look at Landon, he is smiling, and his cheeks are slightly red. I’ll blame that on the champagne. “Anyway, throughout the years that I’ve known him, we’ve become friends, family even, and he has taught me a lot about being a man, especially in the last two years with the struggles these two have had to deal with.” I smile at Landon and his bride, not wanting to get too into the depressing shit.

“I’m going to end this shit now.

Basically what I want to say is, I thank you, Landon, for being an honest man, and for giving me hell when I needed you to. I actually look up to you in a fucked-up way, and I want you to know that you deserve to be happy and be married to the love of your life, no matter how quickly you two put this together.”

The crowd laughs again.

“You won’t know how lucky you are to be able to spend your life with the other half of your soul until you have to spend your life without them.” I bring the microphone down and lay it on the table just as I catch a glimpse of silver rushing through the crowd, and I hurry down from the stage to follow after my girl as the crowd drinks to my toast.

When I finally catch up to Tessa, she’s pushing the women’s bathroom door open. She disappears inside, and I don’t bother to look around before following her inside. When I reach her, she’s leaning against the sink, her palms resting on both sides of themarble.

She looks up into the mirror, eyes red and cheeks stained with tears, and turns to face me when she realizes that I’ve followed her.

“You can’t just talk about us like that. About our souls.” She ends her sentence with a whimper.

“Why not?”

“Because . . .” She can’t seem to find an explanation.

“Because you know I’m right?” I egg her on.

“Because you can’t say those things publicly like that. You keep doing it in your interviews, too.” She rests her hands on her hips.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention.” I step toward her.

Her nostrils flare, and for a moment I think she may actually stomp her foot.

“You piss me off.” Her voice softens, and she can’t deny the way she’s looking at me

I knew this was her way of showing me who’s in charge here. We had a rule, only one rule in our house: no fighting in front of our kids. My children would never hear me raise my voice to their mum. Ever.