#all props to my best friend at age 13 for bringing me into the fold

[cuddlebugsirius]

What was the first fanfic everyone read? Any ship, any fandom...

[lovemesomesurveys]

Layers Layer 1: The Basics

Name: Stephanie. Age: 31. Birthday: July 28th. Gender: Female. Zodiac Sign: Leo.

Layer 2: Your Family

Do you have any brothers or sisters? I have two brothers. Do you have any pets? I have a doggo. Do you still live with your parents? Yep. Do you have any stepparents? No. How many cousins do you have? Like over 50. Only two of them are from my dad’s side.

Layer 3: Your Friends

Who is your best friend? My mom. Who have you been friends with the longest? -- What do you like to do with your friends? -- Do you have more friends online or in real life? -- What is a good way to make friends with others? *shrug*

Layer 4: Your Home

Do you live in a home, apartment, duplex, trailer, etc? A duplex. How many rooms are there in your house? 2 bedrooms. Is your home large or small? It’s small. What is your favorite room in your house, and why? My room. It has my bed and all my stuff and I spend majority of my time in here. Do you prefer having people over to your house, or would you rather go to theirs? With friends I preferred going to theirs. I don’t like playing hostess.

Layer 5: Can You

Can you fold your tongue into the taco shape? Nope. Can you touch your toes without bending your knees? No, cause I’m a paraplegic. Can you tie a cherry stem in a knot with your tongue? Nope. Can you hold up your end of a physical fight? I’ve never been in one, but I’m still going to say no. It wouldn’t go well for me. Can you do any yo-yo tricks? I haven’t played with a yo-yo since I was a kid, but I never could get the hang of any tricks. I couldn’t even get it to go back up easily.

Layer 6: Who

Who inspires you the most, and why? I haven’t felt inspired in a long time. :/ Who helps you maintain your sanity? Uhhh. Who do you go to most often for advice? I don’t ask for advice very often to be honest. Who knows you better than you know yourself? I don’t even know myself anymore. Who is someone that you would die or put your life on the line for, no questions asked? My mom and brother.

Layer 7: Do you

Do you still eat sandwiches without the crusts? Yeah. I’ve never liked the crust. Do you typically finish your meal at a restaurant, or need to take a container home? I don’t finish my meal completely ever because I get full fast and I’m such a slow eater that everyone is done for awhile and I feel bad having them wait. Depending on what it is I might take the leftovers home, but honestly I usually don’t. Do you pull an Oreo apart in order to eat it? Yep. Do you read a lot of gossip magazines? I haven’t read a magazine in several years. I used to all the time as a teenager. Do you make friends easily? I don’t have an issue getting along with people, but I don’t develop friendships with a lot of people. I don’t really try either to be honest. Especially not these past few years. I haven’t tried or wanted to make any friends.

Layer 8: How Many?

How many people live in your house with you? 3 people and a doggo. How many pets have you had in your lifetime? A couple hamsters, 4 doggos, and a fish tank full of fish. How many tries does it take you to become successful at something? Uhh. I don’t know. I don’t think I’m all that great at anything. How many meals do you eat a day? Usually just two. How many people can you honestly tolerate? Just a few people at a time.

Layer 9: How

How do you typically get to school or work? I’m done with school and I don’t have a job. How do you deal with a breakup? Not well. How do you like to help others? I used to try and help people with what I could when I could, but admittedly I haven’t been very helpful or useful to anyone, including myself. How do you know when you’ve found “the one”? I guess I don’t know because I truly thought I did with Ty, but that went nowhere. How do you sleep in bed? I sleep in the middle slightly turned to my left with my head propped up.

Layer 10: What

What do you think happens when we die? I believe in heaven and hell. What do you do if there’s no toilet paper left on the roll and you’re already peeing? At home I call for my mom and ask her to bring some or I have to just get up and get some more from the bathroom pantry. What do you eat most often? Wingstop and ramen. What toys did you enjoy most as a child? I was obsessed with Barbies. What do you do if you witness someone being awful to someone else? I don’t know what I would do.

Layer 11: Where

Where is your favorite place to eat out? I’m more of takeout gal, even pre-COVID, which now takeout is all I do, but anyway I love getting Wingstop and breakfast from this local place. Where is the place that has the best ice cream in your area? I’m not a big ice cream person and haven’t had any at all in years, but apart from the common places like Baskin Robbins and Cold Stone, I know we have a few trendy, cool ice cream places in town I haven’t been to thatI hear are really good. Where did you meet your current or last significant other? We met through a mutual friend. Where can you be found at 7 PM. typically? Here at home, most likely in bed on my laptop. Where can you find the best French fries? This local place has delicious beer battered garlic fries.

Layer 12: When

When did you find out the truth about Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy? I don’t remember exactly when I found out about the Easter Bunny and Tooth Fairy, but I stopped believing in Santa when I was 8. I feel like I stopped believing in the other two prior to that. When do you typically fall asleep? Around 6 or 7AM. When was the last time that someone paid you a compliment? I don’t remember. When do you feel most comfortable? When I’m lounging in bed. When did you last go to the bathroom? A couple hours ago.

Layer 13: Why

Why do you enjoy taking surveys so much? I’ve enjoyed taking them for so long now it’s hard to imagine a time where I no longer do them. I mean, here I am at 31 and see no stopping in sight. I think they’re good distractions and give me a place to vent and ramble as well when needed. They’re like my diary entries. Why do people gossip so much? They’re bored and other people’s lives are either more interesting or they serve as a distraction from their own. Why can’t humans fly? We don’t have wings. Why aren’t you doing something else right now? I want to be doing this. Why is the sky blue? Cause that is the color God intended it to be.

Layer 14: If...

If you had a million dollars, what would you spend it on? I’d pay of mine, my parents�� and my brother’s debts first, then I’d buy us a bigger house and furnish/decorate it, do some other shopping, travel for sure, and then I’d have to be smart and careful and save as well after having some fun. If you found out someone was cheating on you, would you ever take them back? I honestly don’t know. It would depend on a lot of things and if I did, it would take time and work. If you found a wallet with cash in the street, including identification, would you turn it in? Why or why not? Yes, absolutely.  If you could have any food right now, what would you like?   I just had ramen so I’m good right now. If you found out that the world was going to end tomorrow, how would you spend your last day? Freaking out? ha.

Layer 15: Firsts

When did you lose your first tooth? Like 5 or 6. Who was your first teacher that you ever had? I don’t remember my preschool teacher’s name. When did you first learn how to ride a bike? I didn’t. When was the first time you had sex? I haven’t. Did your first birthday have a theme to it? I’d have to ask my mom.

Layer 16: Lasts

Last person you texted: My brother. Last drink you sipped: Starbucks Doubleshot energy drink. Last time you rode a bike: -- Last time you swam in a pool: Like 8 years ago. Last person you hugged: My aunt.

Layer 17: Favorites

Favorite Color: Pastels, rose gold, sea foam green, coral, and yellow. Favorite Season: Fall and winter. Favorite Shape: Hearts and stars. Favorite Letter: I don’t have one. Favorite Number: 8.

Layer 18: This or That

Pepsi or Coke? Coke. Movies or Television? Both. Phone or Tablet? Phone. Fruits or Vegetables? I like some of both. Animals or Humans? Animals, ha.

Layer 19: Which

Which Poke’mon is your favorite? Let’s go with Jigglypuff. Which day of the week is your favorite? I don’t have one. My days all blend together. Which birthday celebration was the most memorable for you? Various ones throughout my life. Which holiday is your favorite? Christmas. Which shoe do you put on first? I think my right.

Layer 20: Love Life/Relationships

What is the name of your first love? Joseph. How many times can you honestly say you’ve been in love? Twice. Have you ever been in a relationship before that was abusive in any way? No. Have you ever been engaged or married before? No. Do you have any children? Nooo.

Layer 21: Jobs, Dreams, & Goals

What did you want to be when you grew up (as a little kid)? I wanted to be a teacher. What do you aspire to be now? What interests you? I have no idea. :/ What is the most recent goal you’ve achieved? I haven’t achieved any in a long time. What is a goal you are still striving to reach? I should be setting some, but... Have you ever won any sort of awards before? If so, for what? Honor roll certificates and award from school clubs I was in.

Layer 22: Opinions & Beliefs

Pro-life or pro-choice? Pro-choice. Were you raised with any sort of religious background? If so, then what? Both sets of grandparents were the ones who tried to influence me in that way and they were of different religions, Jehovah’s Witnesses and Christians. It made things very confusing and complicated and I struggled with what I believed for a very long time. I went through phases of being atheist, agnostic, and then slowly started to open up towards Christianity. Democrat, Republican, or Independent? I don’t want to get into that. For or against the death penalty? It’s very complicated. Thoughts on assisted suicide? That’s a very touchy, sensitive subject.

Layer 23: Currently/Today/Present

What day is it? Saturday, March 6th. What’s the weather like outside? It’s currently 46F. What have you eaten? So far just ramen. Did you run any errands? It’s only 5:21AM, but I won’t be going anywhere today. What time is it? ^^^

Layer 24: Yesterday

Did you have a work shift? I don’t have a job. Did you eat out anywhere? I had breakfast delivered and then got Wingstop takeout for dinner. Was it snowing? No, it doesn’t snow here. Who did you last say goodnight to? My mom. Did anything unusual happen? No.

Layer 25: Tomorrow

Do you have to go to school/class? Nope, I finished school back in 2015. Does this day have any sort of significance to you? No. What is a chore that needs to get done? I don’t have anything I need to do right now. Will you hang out with friends? I don’t have any friends. I’ll hang with my family at home. What time will you be expected to be awake by? Like 4 or 5PM most likely.

Layer 26: Have You Ever

Performed a magic trick successfully? Nope. I dabbled a little bit with card tricks when I was a kid, but I was never any good at it. Sat or laid on a rooftop and looked at the stars? No. I’d be too scared to do that. Walked around with your underwear on inside out or backwards all day without realizing it? Probably. Touched a snake? Nooooo. Been bitten by an animal? If so, what animal? Nope.

Layer 27: School Life

Are preschool and kindergarten mandatory where you live? I’m not sure if preschool is, actually. I went to preschool.  Were you or anyone you knew homeschooled? I was for a brief periods of time after some long hospital stays in 5th, 6th, and 8th grade. Did you attend public or private school? Public. Were you bullied in school, popular, or somewhere in-between? I wasn’t bullied and I most definitely wasn’t popular. What is the highest level of education that you completed? I have my BA in psych.

Layer 28: Your Appearance

Eye Color: Brown. Hair Color: A mix of red and my natural dark brown. Height: Like 5′4. Weight: Somewhere in the 70s (pounds), I think. I haven’t been weighed in years. Do you have freckles. moles, beauty marks, or birthmarks - and where? I have some freckles, some moles, and a birthmark.

Layer 29: Electronics, Internet, & Social Media

How much time do you spend on the internet per day? It really varies. Which social media platforms do you belong to? All the big main ones. When’s the last time you replaced the batteries in your television remote? I don’t recall. Are you more likely to stream movies and shows on your laptop, or cast them to your television? I prefer to on TV. Do you have an e-reader, or do you prefer actual books? No, but I do use the Kindle app on my phone.

Layer 30: Are You

Are you still in school? Nope. Are you a member of the LGBTQ+ community? No. Are you looking forward to anything coming soon? There isn’t anything coming up that I’m looking forward to. Are you dreading anything coming soon? Upcoming doctor appointments.  Are you gullible or naive? I wouldn’t say I’m a gullible or naive person, but I can be gullible and naive at times.

Layer 31: Does

Does your workplace make you feel like you can never take a day off without feeling guilty about it? -- Does someone currently hold the key to your heart? Myself. Does anyone out there hate you? Probably.  Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? Yes. Does crying make you feel less strong? Sometimes I do feel like that because I’m just so sensitive and moody and feel like such a baby sometimes. I don’t think crying makes you weak, I’m just hard on myself and feel like I cry too much and over ridiculous things at times. I’m like seriously, you’re crying again?? Or wow, you’re crying over this??

Layer 32: Would You

Do the Polar Bear Plunge? Helllllllllll no. Ever try to walk across a room blindfolded? I’ve done that. And with just my eyes closed. Swim with sharks? Noooooo. Go into outer space, given the chance? Noooooo. Go out in public, looking how you do right now? Ew, no.

Layer 33: Pets/Animals

Do you have any pets? If so, what type, and their names... Yep, I have a 4 year old German Shepherd/Lab mix named Princess Leia. If not, what type of pet have you always wanted? -- What is your favorite animal? Dogs and giraffes. Do you think it is cruel to have circus animals? Yes. How often do you walk your dog, if you have one? How often do you scoop the litterbox, if you have a cat? I don’t walk her because it would be too hard for me to do, but my dad does a few times a week.

Layer 34: Food

What is your favorite breakfast item? Scrambled eggs, biscuits, and hash browns smothered in country gravy, scrambled eggs with spinach, garlic, and green onions, breakfast burritos, and breakfast sandwiches. What is your favorite kind of dessert? Cheesecake, brownies, cupcakes, muffins, donuts, cookies, Little Debbie snacks. Do you eat all three meals everyday? Nope. I usually just have two. What’s the longest you’ve gone without food? Ever, like 2-3 days because I had just had surgery. Otherwise, just a day without any food at all. I’ve gone days with very little when I’m really sick or having appetite issues. What do you like to eat when you are feeling sick? I don’t like to eat when I’m sick, which becomes a problem. I have to try and at least eat buttered toast and soup.

Layer 35: Past

Does your past ever come back to haunt you at times? I’m always dwelling on my past. What is one of your favorite memories of the past? Childhood memories. What is something that you used to do in the past, but no longer do? I used to have somewhat of a social life, but now I don’t have one at all. If you could have a meal with someone from the past, who would it be, and what would you ask them? My grandmother. I’d just want to spend time with her and catch her up on the past 15 years as much as I could. Which historical time period would you like to go back to and check out? Hm. I don’t know.

Layer 36: Future

Do you think you will ever get married one day? Honestly, no. I really don’t see it happening. Do you plan on ever getting a different job in the future, or are you happy with the one you’ve got? I don’t have a job currently. What age do you plan to retire at? Or do you plan on working til you’re dead? I don’t know what my plans are in regards to work.  What is something on your bucket list worth mentioning? One that pretty much everyone says, but traveling.  If given the opportunity to see how your future plays out, would you take it, or no? The future terrifies me, so no I don’t think I would. It could possibly end up being encouraging if I saw things turn around for me in a good way, but I’m afraid it would just show more problems and things getting worse. :/

Layer 37: Hygiene

How often do you shower? Every couple days. How often do you brush your teeth? At least once a day. Do you actually iron any of your clothes? I’ve never ironed my clothes. How often do you do laundry? It gets done about once a week. How long do you use a bath towel before switching it out? I only use it once.

Layer 38: Clothing, Makeup, & Style

Do you wear nail polish? If so, how often do you paint your nails? I haven’t painted my nails in almost 5 years. How would your describe your sense of style? Super casual? ha. I live in leggings and oversized graphic tees. Are there any popular trends that you do not find appealing? Of course. Where do you typically buy your clothing from? Boxlunch and Hot Topic.  What sorts of accessories do you wear/use? I haven’t worn any accessories in awhile. I used to be a big accessories person, like I stuff to match all my outfit and my arms would be full of bracelets.

Layer 39: Hobbies

Do you still color, even as an adult? Yep. I love that adult coloring books became a pretty big thing a few years ago, I love ‘em. Do you/would you like to crochet, knit, cross-stitch, etc? Nah. What’s the last thing you crafted all by yourself? I’m not an arts and crafts person. Do you use Pinterest at all? I do. What’s the last thing that you cooked or baked? Ramen, of course.

Layer 40: Dislikes

List some of your pet peeves here. Eating sounds is a big one. What are some things that annoy you about yourself? Oh jeez. Many things.  Is there anyone out there who you actually hate? Who? Myself? What is a feeling that you dislike? Feeling sick. Do you get some ugly road rage while driving? I don’t drive.

Layer 41: Random

Have you ever successfully pogo’ed on a pogo stick? No. Not sure how that would work with a wheelchair, ha. Have you ever mastered the jump rope? Again, kinda hard to do, but I’ve kinda jumped rope before. Not the actual jumping part course, but did the movements while just wheeling over the rope instead and continuing to move forward. It’s kinda hard to explain, but yeah. Do you know what it feels like to be truly happy? Uhhh.  Is it winter in your part of the world right now? Yes. What’s your favorite type of survey, and why? I enjoy themed ones like this and ones with random, interesting questions that allow me to elaborate more than just simple yes and no. I don’t mind some of that thrown in and some basic questions, but I want more.

Layer 42: Music

What are some of your favorite genres of music? I like variety. What are some music genres that you can’t stand? I’m not into dubstep.  If you had a blank pair of concert tickets, who would you hope to be going to see? Hm. I’d have to think about that. Do you still listen to music on the radio from time to time? It’s been like 4 years since I’ve listened to the radio. iTunes, Spotify, Pandora, Amazon Music, or YouTube? Spotify.

Layer 43: Books

What were some of your favorite books as a child? How young are we talking? Like around 4th grade I started getting into Goosebumps, Nancy Drew, The Baby Sitter’s Club, Ramona and Beezus, and choose your own adventure books.  What genre of books do you typically read most often? Well, for the past couple years now I’ve just been reading murder mystery and psychological thrillers. Apart from those, my favorite genres are fiction, YA, and NA. What are some of your favorite books as an adult? I have several favorite murder mystery series.  What is a book that you were required to read for school that you actually enjoyed? One of them was A Brave New World by Aldous Huxley. Do you read any newspapers or magazines anymore? I haven’t in years.

Layer 43: Around the World

Where’s the best place you’ve taken a vacation and/or day trip to? My Disneyland trips are definitely some of the best. Where is somewhere that you’d like to go someday, assuming you have the funds to do so? There’s so many places I’d love to visit. Where do your family members originate from? Most are from here, but some from different cities and states. What is your favorite type of ethnic cuisine? Italian. What is something that is typically representative of your own culture? Hm.

Layer 44: Would you Rather...

Drink apple juice or grape juice? Ew, neither. Wear pants or shorts? Pants. I don’t do shorts. Be taller or shorter? Taller. Go to a zoo or an aquarium? Zoo. Visit an art gallery or a museum? Museum.

Layer 45: Movies

Do you remember what the first movie was that you saw in theaters? No, but the first one I remember seeing is The Rugrats Movie. What are some of your favorite movies you’ve seen? There’s so many. What genre of movie do you typically enjoy? Horror, psychological thrillers, drama, superhero, fantasy and sci-fi, romcoms.  What is a movie you’ve seen that you weren’t expecting to like, but were pleasantly surprised? I didn’t think I’d love Star Wars and the superhero movies like I do, honestly. I got into them late, but once I started I was hooked. How many movies do you own? Are they all DVD’s, or do you still have some VHS ones left? I have like 10 DVDs in my personal collection. I also have my Disney VHS tapes stored away.

Layer 46: Personality

Are you more of an introvert or an extrovert? I’m an introvert all the way. Are you more easygoing and laid back, or anal? I think I come off as easygoing and laid back to people who don’t know me, but I am not. I mean, in some cases I am, like when it comes to traveling I’m pretty much down to do anything and I’m cool with just chillin’ and checking things out.  Are you kind to everyone who shows that they deserve kindness? I believe so. Describe your sense of humor. I honestly don’t know. Like, I like corny, punny, cheesy jokes, but apart from that I’m not sure how to describe it. People will show me stuff they think is funny and they can be dying of laughter and I can be straight-faced or just give a little chuckle or blow air out of my nose, ha. So yeah, it’s hard to explain. Random stuff will just really strike me as funny. And even if I do think something is amusing, it doesn’t always mean I’m laughing hysterically ya know? I haven’t had a good laugh in a long time. Do you tend to over-share? In surveys I do sometimes.

Layer 47: Celebrities

Which celebrity has given their child the most unique name, in your opinion? Meh, I don’t know. Are there any celebrities that you keep tabs on/read articles about often? Not as much as I used to, honestly. I used to be wrapped up in celebrity gossip and entertainment. I still like that kind of stuff, but I don’t know I just haven’t been following it as much. Who is/are your celebrity crush(es)? Alexander Skarsgard. Have you ever personally met someone famous before? If so, then who? Jamie Lee Curtis and Drake Bell. Who is a celebrity that you’re getting tired of hearing about all the time? Hmm.

Layer 48: Emotions

When was the last time you cried? A couple days ago. What are some things that you’re afraid of? Losing loved ones, dying, never getting better/getting worse... What is something small that makes you happy? That first sip of coffee. Who is the last person that you were angry with, and about what? It’s been awhile since I’ve been angry with someone. Are you typically a shy or outgoing person? I’m very shy.

Layer 49: Digging Deeper

What is your favorite alcoholic beverage? I don’t drink. How old were you when you got drunk for the first time? 21. Do you smoke? Nope. Have you ever taken and sent naked pictures of yourself? No. Have you ever done any drugs other than marijuana? If so, which ones? Nope.

Layer 50: Games

What are some of your favorite video games? Mario Bro games. Do you have any computer games that you play regularly? I go through phases with The Sims where I’ll play all the time and then go years without playing. The last time I played was 3 years ago. What was your favorite board game, growing up? Sorry!, Trouble, and Life. How about your favorite card game? Growing up I liked playing Uno and Crazy 8′s.  How good are you at solving puzzles? (such as a Rubik’s cube, word puzzles, or putting together a jigsaw puzzle) I love word searches and such. I used to enjoy doing actual puzzles when I was a kid. I’ve actually been wanting to do a puzzle lately.

[ohsh1t2wksl8]

[veridium]

miss independent

COLLEGE AU DISASTER COMING IN HOT 

I want to say that this chapter, even though relatively short and to the point, is a very important one in terms of content for me. Based on a lot of my experiences being a young queer person in activist/”social justice” spaces, and the ways in which people use those spaces for their own needs. This is all a eloquent way of me saying: gay drama, it sucks, and it’s real. The community isn’t a utopia!

So, uh, enjoy!

fic masterpost // last chapter

--

-- Theia The Gayuh: Hey 

Read 8:04am

-- Theia The Gayuh: Can we talk, please?

Read 8:13am. 

-- Theia The Gayuh: You turned on your read receipts just for this, didn’t you. 

Message Delivered.

She sends the messages Tuesday morning, and Liv can’t decide whether she’s angry or thankful she’s left her alone for 48 entire hours. Usually they can’t stand to be upset with each other more than the length of one L Word episode. Oh how the turn tables. 

Eventually, though, she does respond. After a whole day of classes, texting Cassandra about everything but the fact that Theia reached out, and seeing Ellinor in passing, walking hand-in-hand with Cullen. She’s glad they worked things out for now -- now being a day-by-day, sometimes even hour-by-hour kind of thing. They survived the first party saga of their respective relationships, and now she sympathizes with Cassandra’s desire for peace and discipline more than ever. Besides, it’s getting to be crunch time in the semester. They should be calming down. 

Olivia: Meet me at Johnny’s at 6, then. I can’t stay long. I have to study. 

Read 3:17pm. 

-- Theia The Gayuh: Sounds good. Thank you. 

If she scrolls up just a bit, she can find their last messages from before the war. Memes from gay instagram accounts, short threats of disownment and other heartfelt jokes. It’s not right being on the outs with her, but what can she do? She’s still angry, and that isn’t saying much. Olivia can be angry for years if she deems it necessary. 

She touches base with Ellinor, the other half of her brain, before she shows her face at the pizza place they agreed to meet. 

-- Ellinor: I don’t know, dude. Maybe she wants to apologize?

Olivia: I hope so because if it’s just more bullshit I’m going to be so mad. 

-- Ellinor: Cullen says to hit her with the crushed peppers if she fucks up.

Olivia: 👀

-- Ellinor: Okay I said it 

-- Ellinor: He says hope it works out. I said that was boring. 

Olivia: Be nice!! 

Before she locks her phone she looks back on the last messages Cassandra and her sent to each other from hours prior. They’re perfectly nice and sweet, not paragraph length like they used to be. The more they get to know each other the shorter the answers become and the less stressful it is to come up with what to say. She puts the car in park and turns the key, making one last wish that she won’t have to lose a friendship just so she can have a relationship.

Johnny’s is one of the most college-town holes in the wall there is. But, to be fair, their pizza is also the best in town -- or so Theia and Olivia swear every time they show up for the last by-the-slice orders at 1am. Now, in the socially acceptable hour of dinner for regular people, she’s reliving all the hazy memories when she walks in and sees Theia sitting back at a corner table along the wall, scrolling her own phone. 

Ugh. Fuck. 

She looks up and sees Liv standing like a scarecrow, and doesn’t smile. She just sits up and takes an anxious breath by the looks of it. Olivia tucks her head and walks over before it becomes a standoff in an old Western film. 

“Hey.” Theia says it first as Olivia drops her keys and wallet on the table. She does a subtle head nod in reply and takes her seat. That is more than enough. 

“Are you...how are you?” 

The sound of her voice is enraging still. Its sobriety and measured diplomacy, too. Where was it when she needed it? When Cassandra would have benefited from it? Oh, that’s right, drowned in a gallon of rum and bud lite. 

“I’m good. You?”

“Good.”

She holds back a glare. She shouldn’t be good. She should be far from good. But when she looks up, Theia’s face says as much. 

“I...I thought it would be better if--”

“H-how is Josephine?’

Theia gives her a confused look, hands sliding back and into her lap. “Uh...she’s...good. You haven’t been in touch with her?”

“Not since Saturday. I was planning on texting her.”

“Oh. Uh, cool. Yeah, you should do that.”

“Yeah.”

Awkward pause, part one, hits. Olivia’s eyes wander around the place, to the chalkboard signs with the beer tap menu, to the awkward high school-aged boy behind the counter re-folding takeout menus. Man, he still does not look a day over 15 with that haircut. 

“Liv.” Theia says it in a ‘let’s cut the crap’ kind of way, but she’s not ready to follow along. But she also can’t divert attention anymore so she keeps her mouth shut. 

“Liv, come on.”

“Hm?” she offers, and locks eyes with her. It’s then she notices the coca-cola cup of water and ice she has in her hand, straw by her mouth. 

“I know you’re mad at me.”

“Uh…” Olivia can’t hold it back anymore. This baiting and subtle nod to the issue is aggravating her bullshit meter. She smiles with impatience and shakes her head. “Uh, it’s not that I’m mad at you, Theia. It’s that you fucked up.”

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because you seem to be chilling with your ice water.”

“Ah.” Theia sighs, and sets down her cup. “So that’s how this is gonna go.”

So this is how this is gonna go? Ugh, she was right. It’s gonna be more bullshit. Not just the apology and explanation she deserves. No offer to apologize to Cassandra directly. No accountability. Why the fuck did she make this plan? Theia is never going to--

“Look, I know what I did was immature. I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you.”

“Hurt me? What about Cass? You went full Mean Girls on her. If anyone should be here getting an apology, it’s her.”

“As long as I get one for the hours I spent talking to you and texting you about her when she was pulling her bullshit.”

“That’s not how that works!”

“Well it should!”

“Uh, hey.” From above both their steaming heads, the boy from the counter interrupted, standing like a beanpole with two menus in his hand. He eyed them both with a look not unlike the way the little girl in the movie Matilda looks at Ms. Trunchbull, and sets them down between them. Olivia blinks away her hostility as best she can, but Theia just rolls her eyes and looks away. Classy. 

“Thanks,” Liv says, but the boy is already halfway back to the counter. Talk about a way of saying ‘please hurry up with things so you can leave sooner.’

Theia sighs with dread and takes her menu, thumb pressing a corner bend as she stares at the lines of words. Olivia keeps hers flat on the table and retracts her hands, peering over it like a child. Maybe she should pull out a magnifying glass and also search for a will to live. 

“I just don’t get what you see in her.” Suddenly, Theia sets down the menu and folds her arms. She’s really ready to be completely obliterated. 

Olivia perks up fast, outrage in her posture as her mouth goes open wide. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Theia?”

“It means exactly what it sounds like. I don’t get it. I didn’t get it in the beginning, I didn’t get it at the party, and I still don’t.”

“If you don’t get it, fine. You aren’t in the relationship.”

“It’s not that, Liv. You have always been a certain kind of person, and you have always been outspoken about what it means to be queer. You deserve someone who is as passionate about it as you, who won’t...like, I don’t know. Gentrify it.”

“Gentrify it?!” 

The boy came back again. This time with a notepad and pen. Behind him an older man was peeking out from the window into the kitchen looking as if he had bribed him to return. 

“I, uh…” Theia said, still mad as she nearly tossed him the menu. “I’ll have the Hawaiian personal, please.”

“Chill,” he replied, sliding the menu under his arm. Then he looked at Liv, one eye twitching a bit narrower than the other. What, was something on her face?

“I’ll have a Margarita. Medium, please...” she looks at Theia when she bends her brow. “I’m bringing back some for Ellinor. I owe her for stealing five of her easy-macs.” 

She hands the menu back because the guy looks like he’s being held hostage, releasing him back into the wild. After that she folds her arms and rests them on the table, leaning onto the table. 

“Oh. I thought…”

“You thought I was bringing some for Cassandra? What, that she’s waiting outside with sunglasses on and a sniper in case things go bad?”

Theia bites the corner of her mouth and looks away. Her fingers twist together as she takes in the wall painting hanging next to them of the old river bridge just past downtown. College town shops always decorated with images you could see by virtue of a 5 minute walk in any direction. As if it heightened the experience or the pride in a bridge of all things. 

“You give her too little credit.”

Theia snorted. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, asshole?” Olivia tilted her head, countering her feistiness. “You know nothing about her.”

“No one does! So she’s gay now. That mean she’s going to stop hanging out with those sexist, stalking assholes in her Bible study? The ones who campaigned for Prop 13 last year?”

“I never saw her out there with them!”

“It doesn’t matter, Liv! She still wasn’t against them!”

“You don’t know that!”

Theia scooted back in her chair but didn’t get up. She rolled her eyes so hard her head went with them, and she locked them on one of the tv’s on the opposite side of the room. Sports, or something, playing on the screen. Olivia stayed where she was, in the exact shape she was, though her flight or fight instinct trampled her willingness to stick around. This was the complete opposite of how she always wanted it to go, of how she always thought it would be. Her life had become a Dr. Phil special where the envious best friend was sat across from the happy but plain looking married couple, begging the best friend to stop egging their cars.

“Is she out to her family?”

Olivia scoffed. “Theia, you’re gatekeeping again.”

“I’m not, I just asked a question,” she corrected, looking back down at her. 

“I...I dunno.”

“Really?”

“Probably not. She just came to the conclusion herself. I don’t think she’s had the time or reason to. Not until...well, I don’t know.” She grabbed the straw wrapper leftover from Theia’s drink and began playing with it. 

“Pfft. Gotcha.”

“That doesn’t matter, though. Why should it? So she can be the “correct” form of real?”

“Oh, don’t give me that. You know what I’m worried about. The same reason you were concerned when Josie and I got together. The thing you saw fit to bring up that night, in public, in front of everyone. Remember how not-whispery your tipsy whispering is?”

Shit. She hadn’t thought about it like that. At the time, it was an empowering speech-and-run that she made to expel her rage. The kind of tell-off everyone dreams of giving when faced with someone’s traitorous actions. She hadn’t taken into account the volume, or the environment -- had Josephine heard her? Had other people? Oh God, that might have been completely humiliating…

Theia watched her, and shook her head. “Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, and yes, she does know what you said.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, that was a wonderful fight to have at 3am. Thanks for that.” 

“Theia, I--”

“Whatever, Liv. You know what I mean when I ask if she’s out. It’s different when we’re kids, when we’re poor...it’s not like that with you. You’re both adults, and she’s rich. What’s stopping her from doing what all those Beauty Queens do making out with our friends in the dive bars then running off to Mommy and Daddy’s house in the Dales?”

“She’s not rich, her fa--”

“Liv.”

Ugh, fuck. She rested back on her chair and ripped the wrapper in two. She caught her on something she would say was bullshit in any other context, and she hated her for it. Wealth wasn’t an individualistic thing, it wasn’t some easily-excluded condition. That was well-evidenced by her continued compliance with her Mom’s antics if it meant getting her tuition bills paid and health insurance secured. 

“You’re still being disrespectful and showing your privilege. It doesn’t matter the age of when someone comes out, it’s still difficult and uncomfortable. The fact that she is doing it, and doing it with someone in her life, is brave. And she and her family aren’t white. Neither are Josie’s. We won’t ever know what it’s like to do what they do. Money or no money.” If only you knew what she’s gone through, what she struggles with. Shit, if only *I* knew. 

“Ugh, you sound like those women’s studies harpies with all the buzz words.”

“I sound like a compassionate human being. You would do well to try it sometime.”

Theia slurped her water, visibly calmer than she was at the start. Perhaps a little too calm. Her heart was in the right place, if only she would admit she was just feeling protective and possessive of her best friend. Instead she was dunking and deep-frying her concern in narrow-minded visibility politics. Olivia flicked the ball of remaining wrapper onto the table, giving up on it as a plaything. She was looking at the person who helped her come to terms with her sexuality, the person who listened to her cry in the middle of the night after she’d have another fight with her Mom about wanting to cut her hair or have a pride flag in her room when she’d come home in the summer. They had gone through so much, and she wants to hold onto it with the hope that if she can change, Theia can, too.

“Well. I guess I’ll be wishing for her to prove me wrong, then,” Theia allows, shrugging her broad lesbian shoulders with her broad lesbian skepticism. This isn’t the last of it, and she isn’t convinced in the slightest. By the looks of it -- and by the knowledge Olivia has in 2 years of friendship -- she’s choosing not to pick the battle anymore. Relieving, but only to an extent. 

“Thanks, I guess. I still think you owe her an apology.”

“Fat chance.”

“Theia.” Olivia notices pizzas being brought out of the kitchen. Perfect fucking timing evaded them this far, why would it start now? “Apologize to her or I won’t let this go.”

“Oh come on.”

“I mean it--” she interrupts herself as the guy approached with Theia’s order and two pizza stands. She’ll have to wait until he’d do the second trip for her own meal. It felt like an hour, their stiff staring down of one another while Chad-Kevin-Trevor-whoever did his thing. Poor dude, he was annoying but he would get a good tip. No one wants to be at the mercy of gay drama. When at last everything was served, and the guy got out with his life, she pulled napkins from the dispenser and continued. 

“I’m not going to apologize to someone who proves me right the next day. I’m just not going to have her put a rift between us.”

“You have no faith in her and you don’t even know her!” Her put a rift between us? Her?

“I have seen this happen too many times in this town to blink it away, Liv. I’m not going to watch it happen to you and pretend it’s some big surprise.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

Theia chews away, dropping her slice down on the plate. Her greasy hands ate up the napkin she used to clean them off, finger by finger. “I can’t stop you from dating her. But you can’t stop me from having my gut feelings.”

Oh, fuck all. 

After a tense pause, Olivia grabbed the infamous crushed peppers and generously sprinkled them onto her own meal. “You know, maybe it’s for the better. If she were here she’d say she wouldn’t want your apology unless it was sincere. Which, obviously it isn’t, because you are an asshole.”

“Psh. Fine, say it’s that. All I know is I don’t say sorry unless actions prove it warranted. And I trust you enough not to do that thing everyone does when they get together.”

You mean U-Haul and crawl up each other’s assholes never to see anyone else again. Cool, that’ll be fun to attempt, considering I intend to keep you two as far away from each other as humanly possible. For my sake, and hers. Olivia took a large bite into her first steaming slice and, as always, immediately squirmed. 

“H-h-haw--”

“God dammit, Liv,” Theia grinned and slid her water to her side, which Olivia took and gulped from the rim. Fuck the straw. 

“Gah,” she gasps, and slammed it down. “I’m such a dumbass.” 

She met her glance, mouth lined with sauce and balsamic. Theia’s playful expression is her weakness. She chuckles for the first time all afternoon, pressing a crinkled up napkin to her mouth as she did so. Theia follows suit, leaning back and running her fingers through her down-and-tousled hair. She mutters a curse under her breath. It’s like opening a can of soda and letting the carbonation finally release. 

“Ugh, Liv, you’re always going to be my girl.” She reaches for the parmesean shaker and began dousing her pizza in it. A Hawaiian pizza with parmesean sounds disgusting, but the way she ogles it with hungry eyes, you’d swear it was the most delicious thing to ever be invented. 

Her statement though. Her statement makes Olivia’s heart creak. She wants so badly to nod and smile, fully believing in it as she always had. But the truth is -- and she hated herself for it -- the entire time she sits there she’s missing Cassandra. Missing her, the way she talks, the way she laughs when she had a mouth full of food. 

She watches Theia take her first cooled-down and thus safe bite, and for that split second she lets her inner frown weigh on her face.

The pizza isn’t for Ellinor, she confesses in her thoughts, one which she wishes to say out loud. But everything said not to. Everything said it wasn’t safe. And for that, she is at a loss. 

--

“Well, fuck her.”

Ellinor, having stolen a slice of the leftovers, thus proving Olivia’s fib somewhat obsolete, is adamant. Cross-legged in old basketball shorts and a tank with flannel on (peak pajamas aesthetic). All the while Olivia paces with a textbook in hand, trying to work out the anxious energy while also getting work done. A futile endeavor, a tale as old as time. 

“Ellinor, please.”

“Nah, fuck her. She knows what she did was fucked up!” said with a mouthful of margarita goodness. She gulps it down and then burps like a truck driver twice her age. Olivia has to giggle.

“Ahh, fuck, this hits the spot. What was I saying? Oh, yeah, fu--”

“I get it, okay!” Olivia shut the book and tossed it onto her desk. Huffing with indignation. What bright idea did she have thinking she could just be friends with so many opinionated and crass women? Oho, feminism, blah blah blah, women’s empowerment, blah blah, empowered women empower women, blah blah BLAH. 

“Well. Then what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to proceed as planned. Theia doesn’t feed me or pay my bills. Her opinion is purely arbitrary.”

“Uh huh, so that’s why you’re creating rubber burn marks on your carpet.”

“What?!” Olivia squeaked, looking back behind her bare feet. Oh, good one, Ellinor. 

“Liv.”

“Oh stop it! I’m doing my best. Theia is one of my first and truest friends. She’s the only one I’ve known as long as you.”

Ellinor slouched and scowled with bitchy apathy -- a talent she knew best. Sliding herself off her friend’s bed, she put her hands on her hips and stood toe-to-toe with her.

“Yeah, Liv, and only one of us isn’t being a dick about something that’s making you happy.”

Olivia frowns and slides her hands into her hoodie pocket. “It’s...it’s not the same. It’s different in the community versus out. I can’t--”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Ellinor…” 

Ellinor dragged her feet as she headed towards the door. “Last I checked, Liv, there isn’t a Hayley Kiyoko song about being gay meaning you get to step over boundaries like they’re hopscotch squares!”

“Ell--”

“Nah-ah!” she yelled, sliding in through the door’s narrow opening. Her finger went up in the air as she lingered. “I can cite sources, too, Ruth Gay-der Ginsburg!”

“...I hate you.”

From the hall, the same sarcastic voice echoed: “LOVE YOU TOO!”

She’s going to be saying that for the rest of the week. Fantastic. Olivia resigned herself and fell back on her bed, hands across her stomach as she wished to be anywhere else but there. She had always swore she would tape stars and planets to her ceiling but never got around to it. Truth was she wasn’t tall enough to reach, and Ellinor has no advantage in that department, either. But...she could ask Cassandra. She could do that now. She could do a lot of things. 

But first, she can do one right thing, for someone who didn’t deserve the heat she got. She unplugged her phone and held it above her head. 

Olivia: Hey, Josie. I talked to Theia about the party. I’m sorry I made an ass of myself at your expense. 

Read at 8:55pm

-- Josie: It was not the funnest thing. I appreciate your apology, though. Theia was being ridiculous, I’m sorry you had to deal with that. 

Olivia: It’s not your job to apologize for her choices. 

-- Josie: I know! Is Cassandra okay? 

Olivia: Yeah. A lot has happened. I’m feeling really overwhelmed. 

-- Josie: Oh, dear. You want to get coffee tomorrow?

Olivia: 😭

-- Josie: Lol, okay. I’ll meet you in the Hub.

[harryandmolly]

The Emancipation of Ginny ~ 13 ~ FINAL

summary: shawn and ginny could’ve ruined everything six months ago, and sticking together despite their past could make or break them now as ginny stays on as his personal assistant. but what happens on tour doesn’t stay on tour.

warnings: Language, Louboutins, Love

WC: 4k

A/N: you guys are amazing. thank you for supporting this story. I love you all. never be afraid of your greatness.

____________

Ginny’s quiet. Her chin wobbles. Her smile is strained. Andrew can hear it through the phone. He shifts in his seat, leaning forward to prop his elbows on his knees. He sighs.

“I just want you to know,” she sniffles, “This was never the plan.”

Andrew nods, though he knows she can’t see him. “I know.”

“I wanted to learn from you. I d-did learn from you. I learned… so much.”

“But there was still something missing,” he finishes. Ginny sniffles again. “Ginny, I know. I know you never intended to leave this way. I know… I know you didn’t sign up for a lot of what ended up happening on this team. We all got more than we bargained for. But I think we’re all better for it. Fuck, I know I am. Do you know how nervous I was, bringing you on? I didn’t even want to ask Shawn to bring on a PA. God, it’s such a delicate balance, having a team like this. In the best way, you did throw us all off balance. You saved my ass over and over and over. You went above and beyond every day. You taught us all how to work together better. You reminded us how strong we are as a team.”

“That’s what I’ll miss most, you know,” she whispers. Her voice is gravelly. It makes Andrew’s throat constrict, “I’ll miss that. The family. You guys are my family.”

Andrew chews his lips into his mouth. “We’re going to miss you too, Gin. It’s like… it’s like you’re Dorothy and we’re the friends you made along the way to Oz.”

Ginny laughs. “Does that make Shawn the Wizard?”

Andrew snorts. “He fucking wishes. No. I’m the Wizard. Shawn is… Shawn’s the Scarecrow.”

“This is a very odd metaphor,” Ginny laughs. Andrew feels some much needed relief at the sound of it.

“We’re an odd bunch,” he sighs.

She goes quiet again. Andrew clears his throat.

“So,” he begins, “You’re gonna need a manager. I have some ideas for you.”

+

Shawn’s laughter fades. He leans back in the leather booth and meets Niall’s eyes. He rolls his own.

“What?” he groans.

“Nothing, mate. Just figured you’d have something to say about the fact that the last time we were here, she was with us.”

She. Niall’s adorably reverent of Ginny. Shawn makes a joke in his head about “She Who Must Not Be Named.” He keeps his nerdy notions to himself.

Shawn shrugs. “She’s everywhere, man. If I get all fuckin’ moody about having to do stuff and be places where I was with her, I’d never get out of bed. Actually, she’s been there too, so…” He trails off.

Niall bobs his head. “I miss her too.”

Shawn looks up from the fizzing bubbles in his pint glass. “You haven’t talked to her?”

“I’ve caught bits and pieces from her. Haven’t seen her in a while. She’s… y’know, she’s busy, meetin’ with managers and labels in all that. Don’t envy her a bit, actually. Fuckin’ miserable, that whole lot.”

Shawn frowns. He remembers that, kind of. It was different for him because Andrew discovered him, so he had an advocate in his corner from the start, plus he was a teenager, so his parents were at the helm of negotiations. He was just the music back then, not the brains. Ginny’s always been both.

“I’m not too worried about her,” Shawn confesses, his eyebrows pulling together, “She’s… so fucking smart, you know? Like, savvy. That’s why she’d be such a fucking great manager.”

Niall’s eyes widen in agreement. He nods thoughtfully. He shrugs.

“I guess things’ll happen as they’re meant to.” He angles his gaze back up to Shawn’s.

Shawn wets his lips. “They will. I know they will.”

+

Ginny gazes at the baby, lets her wrap her tiny fist around her finger. She sucks the finger into her mouth, cooing. Ginny giggles.

Hannah laughs with her, jiggling her little daughter as she lies on her stomach.

Victoria Jade Abigail is six months old and enormous for her age, looking easily 6-7 months older than she is. She has soft brown eyes and tight tiny curls, much like Ginny’s. When Ginny gets to hold her, she whispers in her ear about how lucky she is to have such a smart auntie who can help her care for them.

They’re in the park. Marcus and Kingston are exploring the Princess Diana Memorial Playground while Hannah and Ginny finish their picnic. Victoria starts to snooze against her mother’s chest with Ginny’s finger still clenched in her little hand. As she fades into sleep, her grip slackens. Ginny slips it free and smoothes her fingers down the baby’s back.

“You sure you really want to tour again, babes?” Ginny sighs, looking up to cast Hannah a curious glance. Hannah’s looking down at her baby girl adoringly.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, “I need it, Gin. Can’t live without it. Touring is… god, it’s everything. I mean, it’s not, obviously. Family. This family is everything. But…” Her voice fades.

Ginny feels a churning in her stomach. It’s familiar and unwelcome. It’s nauseating and a little helpless. It’s uncertainty. She nudges Hannah to continue.

Hannah shrugs. “But I can’t be all there for my family if I’m not being me, you know? Like, I can’t just give it up to be a mum. I know some women can. Some women want to. I applaud those women, as long as it’s what they really want. But what kind of mum am I really if I show my kids that dreams are disposable? I can’t… I can’t be the best mum I can be if I’m not also doing what I love.”

Ginny swallows and nods, rolling onto her side on the blanket they’ve spread over the dewy spring grass.

“You really feel that way? That if you’re not touring or performing, that’s… like, like you can’t be yourself without it?”

Hannah nods easily. “Of course. I think you have to feel that way to do this, to be this. Don’t you think it’s how Shawn feels, too?”

Ginny doesn’t startle like a frightened horse at the sound of his name anymore. It’s been months since she left him in that bed in Hawai’i. In that time, she’s reminded herself how to stand on her own and focus on her career.

The only problem is that… maybe it’s not the right career.

Ginny feels crazy when she lets herself consider that. After all this time, all this stress, all this work -- she upended her entire life for this. Her mother called her crazy. Her father claimed to have known all along she was meant to be an artist, which immediately made her wary. But could she really have gotten this far down this path just to find another direction again?

Ginny rolls away onto her back as Victoria stirs, hungry and squirmy. She sifts her fingers through the grass, the same way she did last summer when leaving Shawn’s team was a new and harsh inevitability. The wound has faded to a scar.

It’s not that it was the wrong move. She needed it -- they both did. But in the months that followed, as Ginny sat and thought and talked and met with managers and labels and struggled and drank and asked for advice, something felt just a little… hollow.

She chews on the inside of her lip again, where she’s convinced she’ll end up with a hole if she doesn’t find a way to calm the fuck down about all this.

“You know he’s in London, right?” Hannah hums.

Ginny blinks out of her cloud of thought. “Hmm?”

Hannah nods. “Doing some recording’s what I heard, last I talked to Teddy.”

“Teddy,” Ginny evades with a smile, “How is she?”

“Always a laugh, that one. Met with her last week. She’s going to put in a couple calls to some managers she likes, ones she thinks could fit my vibe.”

Ginny picks at the grass.

+

Ginny’s fingers stroke through the curls over his right ear. As he studies her face, she studies the way his hair looks a little bit copper in the lamplight. Her mind is blissfully empty, the way his almost never is. He smiles gently, adoring and envying.

The hand spread across her back flexes. Under the sheets of his bed, he slides a sturdy leg between hers. She shifts comfortably, welcoming him in. He clears his throat for her attention.

“When did you know you wanted to go into artist management?”

Ginny blinks a few times and scrunches her forehead. “Oh. Hmm. I guess around the time Hannah realized her first manager was nicking from her, skimming money off her accounts.”

Shawn’s eyebrows raise. Ginny sighs. “I’d been her PA, I was working closely with them both. I subbed in for a while before she could hire someone with actual experience. I guess I never really felt like her manager, more like her teammate. But I always understood her vision, y’know? I could see the big picture.”

Shawn nods. “She’s lucky to have you, Ginny. Even if you’re not directly on her team anymore. She needs you. We both do.”

Ginny smiles fondly. She scoots closer into his side. Shawn rolls onto his back and lets her fold herself on top of him, resting her head on his chest.

Finally, his head goes quiet.

“There’s enough of me to share, I promise.”

+

Ginny tilts her chin up, willing herself to focus. This meeting is important. But she’s… distracted.

It’s her third meeting with this guy from Demi Lovato’s management company. That hellish Island Records gala last year was good for something, it seems. Hannah’s come along as back up, as sort of interim-manager-substitute-person for some of the meetings Ginny’s taken. Ginny’s been doing the same for Hannah.

Ginny glances over. Hannah is listening intently, asking questions, looking engaged. Ginny smiles subtly and looks back at the man’s face, hoping her eyes haven’t glazed over.

Since the beginning, it was Ginny and Hannah. When they felt alone in a classroom full of girls with creamy white skin and soft braids and pigtails, it was down to them to make their own way.

Even when Marcus came along, Ginny and Hannah were a team. Even when Hannah’s babies came along, Ginny and Hannah were still a team. Even when Ginny was on another team, Hannah was still on her team. Things shift and change. They’re still a team.

When Ginny snaps back in, they’re alone. The industry professional in $800 jeans and Louboutin sneakers stepped out to take a call. Hannah’s eyes roll so hard Ginny’s surprised they don’t fall out.

“This motherfucker,” she snorts.

Despite the distraction, Ginny has been at least half listening and knows exactly why Hannah is reacting the way she is. After all, she’s seen and heard it all by now -- the good, the bad, the ugly. She can see through anyone’s bullshit smokescreen. Hannah is eyeing her like she’s wondering how Ginny even got to three meetings with this joker who’s talking about an EDM sound and touring with Bebe Rexha and a stage name.

And she can see through Ginny, too.

Hannah bites her lip. “Come on, Gin. This ain’t it, babes.”

Ginny sits back in her overstuffed armchair and gazes out at this loser’s stunning view of West London, her home.

“I guess I know that,” she whispers.

Hannah is patiently silent. Ginny looks back at her.

“Do you know what I think?”

Hannah shrugs in response.

“I think we’ve been going about this wrong. You and me, we’ve been trying to let other people take the reins for so long. You’ve had a half dozen shitty managers, I fell in love with my boss. What… what are we doing?”

Hannah sees a spark behind Ginny’s clear brown eyes. She sits up straighter.

“I mean,” Ginny begins, her voice growing louder, “What do you really want, Hans?”

Hannah’s brows lift. “I want… someone who understands me. A real partner.”

Ginny grins. “I understand you, Hans. No better partner than me.”

A look of uneasy understanding crosses Hannah’s face.

“But what about all this? What about doing your own music, touring?”

Ginny sits back, exhausted. “I love music. You know? I just… I really, really love it. I love performing. I love trying new things. But come on, Hans. You’re right. This ain’t it. This isn’t what I want. I don’t have to be a professional musician to sing. This is not my path.”

Hannah is quiet for a while. She nervously eyes the door. She sits forward, leaning into Ginny conspiratorially.

“Ok, Gin. What do you want, then?”

+

Ginny walked out.

She walked out of the office in her TK Maxx dress and the Louboutins Hannah got her for Christmas two years ago. She walked away from the slimy manager mincing his words. She walked away from something that wanted to change her, something that would’ve ruined her relationship with music forever.

She walked into a pub with Hannah and drank.

They sat in a booth with their heeled feet raised on cushions. They ate steak and kidney pies and drank lager and made plans.

Shortly after walking out of the management office, Ginny proposed a plan. Contracts were to be drawn up. Calls had to be made. Press releases needed to be drafted. All would be handled by Ginny, Hannah’s new manager.

Ginny didn’t feel a shred of regret, walking away. The weight of confusion from last summer is gone. The truth is, Ginny thinks, leaning back against the sticky booth with her beer in hand, leaving Shawn’s team was something that should’ve happened long before it did. They could never have a real relationship while she was on his payroll. She could not grow any more under Andrew’s shadow. The viral videos felt like a sign telling her to get out, to forge her own path. Ginny chuckles, thinking now she might’ve read it wrong.

Ginny closes her eyes. New paths are scary, that’s what kept her on the old one for so long. But as she sits here discussing strategy with her new client, she feels more stable and sure-footed than she has since she walked up to the other little black girl in the classroom and offered to show her where the milk coolers were.

Ginny sighs. Her fingers twitch for her phone. Hannah smiles knowingly, that slightly evil smile that always gets Ginny’s heart racing.

“You want to call him,” Hannah says flatly.

Ginny shrugs. “I’ve wanted to call him since September.”

“But you really, really want to call him now.”

“Of course I do,” she grumbles, “He’s… he’s the one, Han. I know he is. But I couldn’t stay with him, not while I was figuring this out.”

Hannah leans in across the sticky table. Her eyes are dark. The corner of her mouth lifts. Ginny feels a shiver rip down her spine in her prim pencil dress.

“So what’s stopping you now?” Hannah purrs.

Ginny’s stomach drops. She swallows. Her face goes hot.

She can’t answer.

Hannah holds up her phone. Her Instagram is open to a Shawn Mendes updates page on a post of him smiling with a fan outside Heathrow. It was posted fifteen minutes ago.

Ginny looks from the phone to Hannah.

“I’ve got to go.”

+

Shawn glances down at his phone one last time before dropping it in the security bin. The battery is low. He sniffs irritably, knowing he won’t get another chance to charge it until he’s on the plane back to LA.

He reaches back into the bin before the conveyor belt can drag it toward the x-ray machine. He turns it off.

+

Ginny is positively vibrating in the back of her black cab that’s speeding to Heathrow on the promise of a hefty tip.

Never has her phone felt so useless. She calls Shawn -- straight to voicemail, phone probably dead since he never turns it off. She calls Andrew -- straight to voicemail, which means he’s on a call and ignoring her. She calls Jake -- straight to voicemail, phone probably off because he’s not a desperate lovestruck millennial.

“Fuck!” Ginny cries, startling her driver. He looks back at her in the rearview mirror. She rolls her eyes and hits the contact number for Brian’s cell, waving at her driver to continue.

One ring. Two rings. Three rings.

“Hello?”

“Brian!” she nearly shrieks, “Where’s Shawn?”

“Uhhh, Ginny?”

She huffs. “Yes, it’s Ginny. Brian, come on, I’m on my way to Heathrow, I have to catch him before he leaves. Where is he going?”

“Back to LA. He’s closing the deal on the movie.”

Ginny blanches. “What?”

“Yeah,” Brian chuckles, “I told him it was stupid, too. Andrew wore him down, I think. He’s on the 4:30 Virgin Atlantic to JFK.”

Ginny looks up at the clock at the front of the cab. It’s 3:30.

“Shit, fuck, I’m never gonna make it,” Ginny pants into the phone.

“Gonna have to run for it, Gin,” Brian chuckles, amused by the image.

“Yeah, yeah, call you later,” she grumbles, hanging up.

+

Ten minutes later, Ginny is power walking up to security, heels clacking, thrusting her phone out toward the woman who doesn’t look like she cares at all that Ginny just bought a $900 flight to New York she doesn’t even plan to board.

The ticket scans. Ginny hustles down the ramp and picks the shortest security line behind a doddering old couple who seem very confused about air travel as though it’s 1943 and they’ve never been on a fucking commercial flight. With a strained smile, Ginny sorts them out, leaving their clunky phones in a bin with their jackets and watching them shuffle through the metal detectors. As soon as Ginny is waved through, she grabs her phone and shoes from her bin and runs.

Over her shoulder, she calls, “Have a safe flight! Enjoy Orlando!”

Ginny forgoes slipping her shoes back on and tries hard not to think about the grimy germs she’s running through as she sprints through the terminal.

She dodges and weaves like an Arsenal striker, calling out “sorry!”s and “pardon me!”s as she goes. Her eyes are fixed at the gate at the end of the long stretch of wide, heavily trafficked corridor.

D23.

Somewhere around D17 they start bellowing over the intercom for last call for Virgin Atlantic flight 214 to New York City.

Bollocks.

Ginny hurdles past families, service dogs, airport police who give her disappointed glances. She is nearly waylaid by someone toting an inexplicably empty luggage cart. Just before it can collide with her ankles, she leaps over it with as much flexibility as her tight-fitting dress will allow.

She ignores the hoots and whistles of passersby, the tuts and scoldings of buttoned-up mums and dads. She has a singular goal.

She has to get to Shawn.

The last call announcement rings in her ears, pushing her as she pants heavily. Her bare feet slap the floor. Her heart charges hard against her ribs. Beads of sweat pool around her hairline.

Somewhere at a newsstand that she runs past, she catches a bar of “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” by Diana Ross.

She runs faster.

D23 is nearly empty. She weaves around a flustered looking family to see that the door is still open!

She’s fumbling with her phone to access her ticket. She glances back up as her feet start to slow.

She sees him standing by a window looking dumbstruck, befuddled Andrew to his left, delighted Jake to his right.

“Ginny?” Shawn cries, launching off the post he’s leaning against. His long legs carry him to her, splitting the difference. They nearly collide, but he grabs her forearms and halts them, looking her over in confusion as she drops her shoes with a loud clatter on the tile floor.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he cries, cupping her face.

God, she’s fucking beautiful. He’s never gone this long without getting to look at her. He doesn’t know why she’s here, but he’s going to soak up every second.

“Don’t get on the plane,” she pants.

“What?”

“Don’t-- get on the plane,” she repeats, squeezing her fingers around his biceps.

“Ginny, what are you--”

“I ran out of a meeting with Greg Osterfield today,” she manages, eyes shifting to Andrew, who’s glancing at his watch, “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t sign with him. Truth is, I don’t want to sign with anyone, Shawn. I don’t want to be an artist, not really. I had to try, though. I’m not sorry I did, otherwise I always would’ve wondered. But I know now.”

“Shawn,” Andrew calls, looking anxiously at the gate attendants who are getting ready to shut the door.

“Hold on!” Shawn barks without taking his eyes off her. It makes her smile through her heavy breaths.

“Ginny, baby, please talk faster,” Shawn murmurs.

“I’m gonna manage Hannah. That’s what I want. That’s what I’m going to do. I know… I know that’s going to make it hard for us. We’ll be in the same place at the same time, what, twice a year, if we’re lucky? But it’s worth it, I think, to try. We’re worth it. I’m sorry I left like that. I didn’t want to, but I had to.”

“I know,” Shawn interrupts, “I’m not-- I mean, it hurt, but I know why you did it. Honestly, Gin, I respect you so much for that. I’m so fucking proud of you. God, I love you.”

Ginny takes a deep inhale and swings her arms around his neck. Shawn follows her lead, pulling her in by her hips to a crushing kiss right there, in front of gate D23, amidst rubbernecking travelers, confused gate attendants and one very annoyed artist manager.

“Oh, thank god,” Jake mutters, going pink and averting his eyes from the scene, smiling to himself.

Shawn lightens up the kiss first, lifting a hand to cup her neck, tilting her head back to suck gently at her lower lip. He swallows her whimper and purrs, hungry for more. Ginny curls up into him, toying with the curls at the back of his neck. An unamused elderly woman passing them clears her throat. They ignore her.

After a few more heated seconds, Ginny pulls back reluctantly, bumping her nose against his.

“Don’t do the stupid movie,” she insists.

“Is that your professional opinion?” Shawn laughs, tickling the back of her neck with his fingertips.

She beams. “Yes. Don’t do the stupid fucking movie. Don’t even get on the plane. Come with me. Be here with me, just for a little while.”

Shawn smiles. He’s never been so happy to ditch work.

The gate closes. The plane leaves with Andrew onboard, toting excuses from Shawn to give the studio -- “just doesn’t feel like the right project, very excited and eager to consider more opportunities down the road” -- a line fed to him by Ginny.

Despite her expectations, Andrew didn’t look surprised or even too angry about Ginny’s sudden disruption. He muttered something about Dorothy clicking her heels to return to Oz. Shawn, with his other arm around Ginny’s shoulders, beamed and held up her Louboutins with a wink. Andrew rolled his eyes, hugged them both and left Jake with them for safe keeping.

As they stroll back through the terminal, catching the eyes of curious onlookers who either recognize Ginny as the woman who had just sprinted past them or Shawn as one of the most famous musicians on the planet, Shawn turns his face into Ginny’s hair and closes his eyes, inhaling. She still smells like coconut.

“Hey,” she whispers, getting his attention, “Where d’you want to go? My mum’s? Hannah’s?”

Shawn smiles. “How about we get a room at that little hotel in Regent’s Park and you let me show you how much I love you?”

Ginny’s face gets hot. “Yeah. Ok. Think I can spare a few days for that.”

Shawn shrugs. “Gonna take me longer than a few days to show you that, Gin.”

_____________

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[whetstonefires]

fictober prompt #5: “Take what you need.”

“Take what you need,” Tim said, waving toward the tiny armory, and he probably shouldn’t have been surprised that the little tribe of assassins immediately started pushing and shoving to get at the best gear. It made sense to have his armory in an easily concealed recess when it was just for him; he hadn’t anticipated it being utilized as a weapons buffet for a small army.

He decided to let them sort that out amongst themselves. “No murder,” he directed, sinking into his chair, his hands already going a mile a minute over the keys as he checked all his systems for updates and alerts.

“We wouldn’t,” said one of them.

“Not each other,” said another, which Tim could tell by rhythm, but not by any difference in the sound.

A lot of people wouldn’t be treating them like people. Tim knew that. The impulse had been there for him, too, especially when the suspicious little face staring up at him in septuplicate had been that of someone he had never gotten along with, who had in fact consistently used his every moment of generosity or compassion against him.

But he couldn’t call himself Connor’s friend and not respect the rights of a bunch of clones who’d run away from their maker seeking independence.

If they turned out to be evil then he’d regret arming them, but he had a lot of sympathy for how naked they obviously felt without any means of self-defense, and under the circumstances that was a pretty decisive reason to arm them.

No major local Gotham issues developing he had to somehow balance this with, a relief. No signs of movement from the League as a whole, outside Talia’s personal staff who were definitely moving. No word from the family, either. Had the kids actually made it all the way here without raising any alerts?

He started digging.

“We’re ready,” said one of them, directly to Tim enough that it broke through his screening-out of their ongoing bickering. He looked over.

“None of you need high explosives,” he announced. “I don’t even carry those unless they’re specifically called for in a mission plan. None of you need any bombs, actually. Put all of those back.”

There was a lot of grumbling, but astonishingly they appeared willing to listen. He hadn’t even needed to invoke the specter of Bruce’s disapproval. New bickering started up as previous trades were declared invalid by those who’d received explosives they weren’t allowed to keep.

Tim was probably very poorly adjusted, six year olds squabbling over grenades shouldn’t be adorable. It was increasingly obvious that either Talia had been educating these telepathically, or letting them out of the tubes for training of some kind. He was used to people whose ages didn’t match their bodies, and these didn’t quite give that vibe, but they weren’t normal, either.

The little boy who’d told him they were done kept staring at Tim; he didn’t seem to be carrying any bombs. He had one of Tim’s bandoliers draped across his chest; it was cinched as tight as it would go and the bottom edge still hung against his upper thigh.

“Yeah?” Tim asked, after the silent staring had gone on long enough.

“You’re helping.”

“Yeah?” Tim said, because that wasn’t an answer or a question. “You asked.”

Well, one of them had. They’d all been dressed alike before they started putting on his stuff, he didn’t know which one had called out wait, when he’d pretended he was going to leave them to fight off eight adult ninjas on their own, without weapons.

He’d half-expected someone to call his bluff, or else give up theirs, but the tone of that wait hadn’t been that at all. It had just been.

Well. He’d turned around.

“You brought us to your home.” Did the League disincentivize asking questions? Yes, they did, come to think of it. Damian had avoided asking them too, though it was less obvious when papered over with that much bluster and arrogance and homicide.

“My place was closest,” said Tim. It had been literally a block away.

“You haven’t called anyone else.”

There wasn’t a nice way to say that if they were a trap, he’d prefer it only caught him.

“Do you want me to?” he asked instead.

The little spokesman slowly shook his head. “He’d come. Wouldn’t he.”

Bruce? No. Damian. “Robin?” Tim asked.

He still wasn’t happy that the name belonged to the demon brat now, but the little horde had responded to ‘Damians’ when he rallied them after they put the League hunters down, and he didn’t know how uncomfortable it would make them to have it applied to just the original. Assuming he was the original, who even knew. He could be version twelve.

The spokesman nodded.

“You want to avoid him?” Then why come to Gotham?

The little spokesman shrugged.

“We don’t want to see him yet,” said another boy over his shoulder, one of the ones who’d strung half a dozen grenades on one of Tim’s belts and had now replaced them with smoke bombs.

“Yes,” said the spokesman, whose nickname was already starting to seem ironic.

Tim addressed that. “Okay, and by the way what do I call you? I can’t just keep saying ‘Damians.’”

The Damians, all of them now fully armed and without visible bombs, clumped up briefly for a silent conference. Were they psychic? He hoped they weren’t psychic.

The names they gave when they were done hopefully whispering were just ordinal numbers in Farsi. More horribly, they weren’t contiguous.

“Will more of you be joining us later?” Tim asked, and got ‘no’ from the spokesman in the bandolier, whose number was Sizdahum, thirteenth.

This was not the time and Tim was not the person to compromise their stoicism on that, so he moved on without comment. If they needed to leave Gotham again to avoid meeting Damian before they were ready, that was acceptable to the collective. Yes, they would welcome his help making a satisfactory entrance. Yes, they realized making a good impression on Batman was at least as important as making one on Robin.

“And now?” asked smoke bomb kid, numbered Haftum, seventh. He was the one who moved the most, was hardly ever still, in contrast to Sizdahum who didn’t seem to move at all without a specific reason. It was going to be a struggle learning to identify them all by cues like this before they used or rearranged some of the equipment he was using to tell them apart for now; Tim suspected they’d forgive some errors.

He shut down most of the processes on his computer, though he left it on in case of any important updates, and turned his back to it. Folded his hands, his elbows propped on his swivel-chair’s arms. He was slightly taller than they were even sitting down.

“Now we plan. Our options are limited, especially if we want to avoid Robin. My defenses here are good against intruders, but if they don’t want you alive they can just destroy the building.”

He looked expectantly at the attentive row of pint-size Damians. Tactical information please, first graders.

“We’re just spares,” scoffed Haftum.

“They won’t hold back,” said Chihaarum, fourth. He was the lowest number in the room, unless you counted Tim, whose number was of course three.

“Ra’s would prefer me alive, but not enough to make it easy for me, and these are Talia’s people. I have a much better-secured bunker some way out of town. If we can shake off pursuit I can access a van that can get us all there. If necessary, I have contacts that can help with extraction to a secure location.” Kon and Bart would be 100% willing to be called in on this. Tim would rather not risk them, but they couldn’t possibly be the intended targets if this was a trick, so it was better than calling the family, and he wasn’t going to let these kids get killed for his paranoia.

“Objections, concerns?” None were volunteered. Tim could enjoy working with such a professional team if it weren’t so creepy. He initiated system lockdown. “We’d better move out.”

They nodded, and Shishum took point out the roof exit once its location was indicated. Tim let him, because they’d apparently made it halfway around the world without his supervision and he remembered how annoying it had been trying to get adults to take him seriously and having his competence utterly dismissed on the basis of his age.

Tim did insist on being the first one to step out of cover once they were all on the roof. No one seemed to be holding any of the sniper posts that could target his roof, so he motioned the kids after him. Counted them off, 4-6-7-9-11-13-14.

“Chahardahum,” he whispered, identifying the boy by the oversized Kevlar vest he’d thrown on. “Stay lower, we’re trying for stealth. And can I call you Chadah?” He wanted to respect their individuality even if it was numbers, but four syllables, three of them fairly long, wasn’t ideal for this sort of situation, especially when it sounded so similar to Chiharum that no mumbling could be allowed.

The boy named Fourteenth rolled his shoulders in a shrug, then nodded. He didn’t like the idea, clearly, but he accepted it.

“Great. Thanks. Let’s go.” Red Robin took off over the roofs, leading his trail of ducklings and keeping an eye on what their comfortable jumping range was as he tried to plan a sneaky route that was physically possible.

The order they fell into was unexpected, with Shishum at the front instead of a flank and Sizdahum bringing up the rear, and he resisted the urge to give directions about who should be where. They knew their own skillsets better than he did, micromanaging was not going to help here.

Of course, with the size of his current forces, any managing he did would be micro.

[stuckinthekookiejar]

Distractions pt. 13

Pt. 1 || Pt. 2 || Pt. 3 || Pt. 4 || Pt. 5 || Pt. 6 || Pt. 7 || Pt. 8 || Pt.9 || Pt. 10 || Pt. 11 || Pt. 12 || Pt. 13 || Pt. 14

Yoongi x Reader x Jimin

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Series Summary: Somewhere along the way, something went wrong and the relationship you had with Yoongi was broken off just days before his debut. Now, years later your paths unexpectedly cross again.

Word Count: 2,727

You laid back against the wall and chugged down a rather large gulp of water. It felt so good feeling the ice cold water soothe your throat which had been stinging with every breath you made after dancing for so long. Although it may have hurt, that stinging, that burning...you loved it. You craved it. You’ve been dancing for so many years that now it was just a thing you lusted for even though you knew that it would hurt. 

“Gah...I want to rip off my legs so that I never have to dance again.” Joo Yeon complained as she collapsed on the floor, “What time is it? Is it time for lunch yet? I’m craving ramen.”

Hwa Joo, who had been lying down, flipped over so that now she was on her stomach with her head propped up on her hands facing Joo Yeon, “Unnie, you always crave ramen.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but don’t forget we’re preparing for a comeback,” Sun Hee chimed in, “Which means we can’t eat ramen.”

“UUuuuuugh, can’t we like...I don’t know? Sneak out and get some?” 

Sun Hee sighed as she watched the elder groan and roll around on the floor in frustration, “You know, sometimes I feel like I’m the one raising you. You’re older than me, shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

Joo Yeon stopped rolling and stared lazily into Sun Hee’s eyes, “I’m only older by months. Besides, you’re the leader.”

“Just because I’m the leader, it doesn’t mean that I’m your mother.” 

The elder shimmied her way across the floor like a snake and hugged Sun Hee’s leg with her arms, “But you are the mom of the group, mom.” 

“Hey, quit latching onto my leg.”

“But mooooooom!” Joo Yeon cooed hugging Sun Hee’s leg even tighter,

“YA! Hwa Joo! Help me!” Sun Hee screamed as she tried to shake Joo Yeon off of her. Hwa Joo probably wasn’t going to help her anytime soon considering that she was giggling from her spot on the floor.

You could only watch from the corner as the three of them continued on with their goofy antics. It had always been like this for as long as the five of you were together. They’d always be so energetic, even after dancing for hours upon hours and you’d always wonder how they still had that much power in them running. This felt like an everyday thing. This made it feel like everything was the same as it always was.......except it wasn’t and everyone knew that it wasn’t the same anymore. 

“Hey, you.” 

You looked up to see Sol Mi sweaty and out of breath. She slid down against the wall and sat right next to you, her hand held open and you didn’t need to ask what she wanted. Without any hesitation, you handed her your water bottle and she took in just as big of a gulp as you had taken in. 

“You okay?” 

Your head was leaned back on the wall, but you could see out of the corner of your eye that Sol Mi was looking at you with those concerned eyes. Sol Mi had always taken a special kind of liking towards you, even to the point that she’d act sort of motherly towards you always showing some kind of concern. She’d always ask if you’d eaten, always made a point to say not to work yourself out too much, always just cared for you. At first, you thought that maybe it was because you two were the same age, but then as you slowly got to know her you drew the conclusion that that wasn’t the case. 

You were so curious about why she was so nice to particularly you, and so one day you asked her why. Sol Mi was very unexpectedly blunt in her answer: “Because I know a broken soul when I see one.” 

She had read right through you some how. No matter how much you hid your grief or suffering or strife from the past, Sol Mi could see that you were broken. And you were at the time. After Yoongi left you, you were broken to pieces. She didn’t need to know the reason, but she knew you were broken and she cared. 

That was why it was so hard to hate her. 

A tired smile crept up your face as you remembered that moment, “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks.”

Sol Mi hummed in suspicion as she moved to rest her head on your shoulder, “Are you sure, you’re okay?”

“Mimi, you’ve been asking me that every single day after the press conference.”

“I know...but I still....I can’t help but worry.”

“The press conference was four months ago, Mimi. Most of the netizens have died down now, I’m fine. I really am.” 

Of course, you hadn’t really been that okay. Words on a screen were just words, and they shouldn’t have hurt you...but they did....they always did. 

Arms wrapped around your waist and Sol Mi cuddled up to your shoulder in comfort. She always knew when you weren’t okay even though you’d insist that you were. 

Suddenly everyone stopped their movements as the door swung open. Sol Mi lifted her head from your shoulder and poked at you with a grin. 

With one look through the doorway, you could see why everyone was starting to snicker all giddily. That was because Sol Mi wasn’t the only one who always knew when you didn’t feel okay.

Yoongi yawned for perhaps the billionth time today. It was only to be expected after working for the past 22 hours straight with only about six cups of coffee fueling him. 

Leaning back in his chair, he reached for his phone to check for the time, 1:36 PM. Boy, how time did fly by fast. He recalled the previous day when he said he’d work for only a few hours after grabbing an early lunch...somehow a few hours turned into practically an entire day. The other members probably had checked up on him, which he was sure of since they were the ones who left the coffees for him, but he was too focused on his work to ever fully pay attention to their nags of concern. He only ever replied to them with a grunt or the empty promise of, “Yeah, I’ll be done in a few...” 

As he suspected, after hours upon hours staring at a computer screen his head started to throb. Now was probably the best time to catch up on some sleep. His studio was large enough to fit a comfortably sized futon in the corner. He folded it out, plopped down right smack dab in the middle of it, then grabbed the Kumamon throw blanket he received as a present from a fan and draped it over himself.

Laying down, Yoongi stared at the ceiling waiting for his drowsiness to consume him. However, it seemed like his mind and his loud thoughts wouldn’t allow for that to happen just yet. Over the course of the past four months, Yoongi had thrown himself into work. Every single day, he’d work for hours upon hours with no breaks, he didn’t even set aside time to eat. The only reason why he was still functional was that the other members would force him to stop and take a breather. They had to remind him to eat, to go to the bathroom, to sleep. Yoongi got a little better now. He knew when to stop, when to eat, when to sleep. But that didn’t mean that his heart still didn’t hurt. 

He tried to close his eyes, tried to block out the memories, but just like every time he laid down to sleep, everything came back. He remembered Daegu, he remembered you waiting for him outside his home so that you two could go to school together, he remembered how shy he was the first time he asked you out and remembered the happiness he felt when you revealed that you felt the same way about him. He remembered moving to Seoul, remembered how he had to leave you behind. He remembered how you cried, wept and smiled for his sake as he boarded the train. He remembered the day you called him telling him that you planned on moving to Seoul, he remembered the excitement he felt as he waited for you at the train station. He remembered your stunning smile, the warmth of your hugs, your kisses, your presence. 

He remembered how none of that was his anymore.

His mind took him to the day of the press conference four months ago. In the room full of eager reporters, Yoongi, the members of BTS and the members of 2S stood in the backroom waiting for you and Jimin to show up. The BTS members had been anxious and worried after not being able to find Jimin for so many hours, and the members of 2S had felt just the same especially since you snuck out in the middle of the night. Nobody could ever imagine Sun Hee’s horror when she saw that her roommate’s bed was empty that morning. 

Just in time, you and Jimin walked into the back room. Everyone, Yoongi especially, noticed the puffiness in your eyes and the redness of your nose. You must have cried recently, and Yoongi’s fist tightened wanting to know who made you cry. His eyes immediately went to Jimin, his dongsaeng, his brother, his friend. He noticed that he had been crying too. Something tugged at Yoongi’s heart. Something that made him want to sack whoever made his dongsaeng cry as well. But he realized that perhaps that there was a reason behind your and Jimin’s tears. A reason that Yoongi had feared that would become a reality. 

A reason that did become reality. 

Those tears you cried weren’t of hurt or sadness. Those tears were of happiness.

Jimin took your hand and marched to the door. Waiting on the other side were dozens of photographers and reporters ready with their with their flashing cameras and their barrage of questions. Everything happened so fast. Nobody, not even the managers, could stop what was about to happen. 

The door swung open, and the loud chatter of the crowd erupted. Questions flew from across the room, and the flashes were never ending. Yoongi watched through the open door and saw how you seemed to be trembling. A feeling welled inside him. It made him want to go out there and bring you back away from the cameras, away from the attention. He knew how you hated feeling pressured in front of people and although you told him that your stage fright had gotten better, Yoongi could tell you were scared out of your mind. But before Yoongi could do anything, Jimin looked at you and saw the fear in your eyes. He did something that Yoongi had been missing for years now. 

Jimin hugged you. Jimin held you close. Jimin kissed you on your forehead.

The act of affection prompted even louder jeers of the crowd. Jimin took the mic which had been standing center stage, and announced,

“Y/N and I...we’d like to announce that we are officially dating.” 

Yoongi let out a sigh as he opened his eyes. A soft murmur of curses slipped under his breath. Jimin’s announcement may have been short and to the point, but that only made it easier for Yoongi’s mind to replay those words crisp and clear with inflection and emotion.  

Beside him, he reached for the pillow he always kept on his futon. It was a travel pillow. The same travel pillow that he bought in a pair while waiting for you to arrive in Seoul years ago. He turned onto his side and buried his face deep into the pillow. Even though it had been years, he could have sworn that it still had the scent of you on it. In and out he breathed into the pillow, his eyelids became heavy and sleep was finally able to claim him.

Jimin walked out of the practice room all sweaty and out of breath. The other members didn’t need to ask where he was going in the middle of practice. It had become routine for Jimin to take a lunch break with you and the girls. Even some of the members occasionally tagged along. 

Ever since the press conference, it was revealed to the other members that the reason why Jimin and Yoongi went out a lot was that they were collaborating with 2S on their title track. Yeah, they were kind of pissed off at the two of them for keeping it a secret, but in the end, they didn’t make too much of a fuss. 

Today, it seemed like Jimin would be going alone to have lunch with you and your members since everyone was busy with their own plans. But on his way to the exit, he passed by the Genius Lab and immediately was reminded of his hyung. Yoongi hadn’t gotten out much lately, and he rarely got to spend time with his hyung after the work on 2S’ title track was complete. 

That wasn’t the only thing that was worrying Jimin. Often, you would ask how the BTS members were, if they were alright and properly feeding themselves. While Jimin found your concern adorable, he couldn’t help but notice that you’d also ask specifically about Yoongi a lot. You’d ask if he was getting proper sleep or if he was overworking himself. 

Jimin wasn’t stupid, he clearly remembered that photo that Yoongi had of you. He could figure out that you and Yoongi had to have known each other in the past somehow, and Jimin was really curious about your past history with his hyung...but he respected your privacy. Your lack of wanting to open up about your past relationships made Jimin conclude that what happened in the past should stay in the past. Whatever transpired between you and Yoongi was between you and Yoongi only, and Jimin respected that. 

And although he seemed uneasy with having Yoongi around you, he still made the effort of trying to get him to tag along for lunch or dinner because the members of 2S had become the elder’s friends as well. That, and because your mood seemed to always lift a slight bit whenever you got the chance to see Yoongi in person.

“Hyung?” Jimin knocked on the door of the Genius Lab, and peeked his head in to see if his hyung was working or not. After seeing that Yoongi’s chair was empty, Jimin let himself further into the room and soon saw his hyung in the comfort of his futon. Yoongi was sound asleep. The covers surrounded him like a cocoon and his arms clutched onto a small travel pillow that Jimin saw way too often. The younger assumed that it must be his favorite pillow considering the number of times he’s seen Yoongi with it. Jimin couldn’t have been any more correct.

Jimin sighed as he crouched down and whispered to himself, “Looks like you won’t be coming for lunch again today, huh hyung? It’s okay...you need to catch up on sleep after working so hard.” 

He couldn’t help but smile at the adorable way his hyung looked as he slept. But soon, that smile faltered as an image of you popped in his mind. It was the image of your concerned eyes that kept asking about Yoongi, 

“Hyung...there isn’t anything between you and Y/N that I should be worrying about, right?”

Yoongi shifted in his sleep, groaned a bit, but didn’t wake up. He looked so peaceful. Jimin laughed at himself for trying to ask such a question to his sleeping hyung,

“What am I doing?” Jimin got up and gave Yoongi one last glance before shutting off the lights and closing the door. Jimin paused outside in the hall for a brief moment,

“Of course there wouldn’t be anything to worry about...” 

Although he told himself that countless times over the past four months, Jimin couldn’t help but have a lingering feeling in his chest. It was a feeling that he couldn’t really quite make out. 

Was it fear? Was it doubt? 

....or was it jealousy? 

Jimin didn’t know, and frankly, Jimin never wanted to find out.

Gif not mine, creds to the owner