#and they said she’d do photography in college i believe

[lesvianism]

i love how it became a general consensus that clementine would be a jock in a highschool au but in canon the only sport she ever did was soccer bc her mom made her and she said she hated it 😭

[katyobsesses]

Katy my darling <3 I have a very fun ask for you!! What method of arts do each glee characters prefer and what is their favorite thing to create?

oooooo this is a fun ask!

I'm gonna do S2 New Directions for now, but may add S3-6 ND or other characters later 💛 (warning... this is LONG)

Artie: Film. 100% film. He loves using visual media to tell a story, he also really gets into the sound design side too when he learns it in College. He loves making music videos and after Uni that's mostly what he does. He also directs a lot of movie musicals and musical TV shows. Basically he loves making visual media for songs.

Blaine: Performing - mostly singing. He also love writing songs, which we never see in the show but I can imagine him learning about songwriting in NYU and loving it as a way to express his feelings. it's like a step up from using someone else's words to express them.

Brittany: Obviously dancing! I like to think that after marrying Santana she either goes to college for Dance, or maybe owns a dance studio/goes on tour with Mercedes a lot (with Santana as a guest singer) She really loves teaching little kids how to dance, she knows how to interact with them on their level and the kids love her.

Finn: Singing? I honestly can't think about what he likes. Like singing is the closest thing. He sings in the shower a lot and obviously he loves singing on stage. But he's not that much of an art person outside of that. He likes consuming it but not making it.

Kurt: Sewing, obviously, as well as sketching clothes. He loves making accessories for friends - scrunchies for the girls, bow ties for Blaine, a dog bandana for Sam's golden retriver (because you know he gets one) etc. - but he also loves designing and making costumes for small productions. Maybe he volunteers/works with a small theatre troop and makes & designs all of the costumes while also performing.

Mercedes: Mercedes likes making cards for everyone for Christmas and Birthdays. It started because she'd forgotten to buy a card for someone but had some card and pretty pens on hand and it spiralled from there. She now owns a fancy die pressing kit and lots of card toppers and pretty glitter pens and washi tape and all of that. She has a small kit she brings on all of her tours, it helps relax her after a show - making cards for the crew as a thank you/maybe selling some for charity because she makes so much? When she finally gets back together with Sam they both work together to make Christmas cards from them with cute pictures of themselves in terrible christmas jumpers and their golden retriver in a Kurt made bandana and later their kids in matching outfits.

Mike: Like Brittany he's a dancer first and formost. That's his art. He later goes on to be a professional on Dancing With The Stars where he reconnects with Matt on set (maybe they even get together in the end and the DWTS fans love their relationship and their jokingly competative instagram stories) He loves creating a story with only movement and music. Mike also really likes doodling.

Puck: Photography. I don't know why but I see Puck loving to take pictures of places he visits in his travels. He also scrapbooks but only Quinn knows that - he has a whole scrapbook of pictures of Beth that Shelby sends them and later makes them for all of his other kids too, and he has, like, travel journals and scrapbooks of roadtrips he's been on. Basically he's a Bullet Journal guy. He really likes washi tape and pretty papers and stickers and what-not. He will never admit this.

Quinn: Quinn's a writer. In my head she goes on to write a book that's losely based on her high-school years and it becomes a best seller and is later adapted into a Netflix series directed by Artie. I just like the idea! Maybe Rachel plays, like, the Miss Pillsbury character... or Terri! Or maybe Shelby? I dunno one of the adult characters.

Rachel: Obviously her art of choice is performing. It's singing and acting and standing on a stage or a set and making the words in her script her own. Also scrapbooking/moodboard making.

Santana: Santana likes knitting. She won't admit it but she likes knitting little plushies for Brittany, her favourite is a little bi flag coloured bunny. She makes knitted plushies and blankets for all of her friends when they have kids but she never tells them she made them - everyone knows though, they're too perfect for the couple/person (a cat in a scarf or a toy poodle in a bow tie for Klaine, a teddy adorned with gold stars for St. Berry etc. etc.)

Sam: This could be an essay for me (and kinda is opps). Sam is the Art nerd of the group and tries every type of art he possibly can. Macaroni art, illustration, digital art, traditional art, crafts, pumpkin carving, glass blowing, handlettering, graphic design, knitting, crochet, rag rugs, sewing, card making, pyrography, etc. He will try everything he can in terms of visual art. He doesn't, however, write because dyslexia, and he can't wrap him mind around, like editing and film stuff - he does try though because why not. He also really likes songwriting and music arranging.

All of this i'm trying to do as close to canon as i can but going off of canon let's say Sam goes to Parsons for illustration because he's so good at art, he stays with Mercedes in her brownstone and they never break up, after graduating he becomes a comic book illustrator (which i believe is literally a minor at Parsons, so let's say he does a Major in Fine Art/Illustration with a Minor in Comic illustration) and illustrates a run of Young Avengers comics and becomes a fan favourite artist.

In canon, however, he loves teaching the new generation of New Directions but he misses art because he doesn't have that much time anymore (because being the teacher of the new directions is a full time job, apparently, judging by the lack of adult friends or hobbies Will has lol) he loves loves loves arranging music, however, and that becomes the type of art he does the most. He does doodle a lot during faculty meeting (also he does a music teaching certification during his first few years of coaching the nNDs) and goes all out with pumpkin carving at Halloween, and loves decorating his apartment and the choir room at Christmas. He loves doing sets for the musical (and has a lot of fun staging it too) and helps out with the decorations for Prom.

Basically Sam loves to be creative in any way he can. He loves making things, whatever they may be.

Tina: Tina writes fanfiction and draws fanart. She's a nerd 100%, she watched Supernatural, she was a SuperWhoLockian, she loves Merlin, she's loves Twilight but more ironically than, say, Mercedes, and prefers books like Morganville Vampires or PC Cast's series that I've forgotten the name of. She loves the Hunger Games and Firefly and Star Trek and Star Wars. She definately has a tumblr. She mostly writes all sorts of fanfiction and is a huge name in the Supernatural fandom. Only Sam and Blaine know about all of this becuase they found one of her Star Wars fanfictions and in an authors note she said something that they recognised - idk she ranted about Santana or Rachel or something.

This was so much fun omg, thank you for the ask Myle 💛

[got-any-references]

What are your fav beetlebabes headcanons? Also, love your stuff <3

Thank you <3. And thank you for the wait cause oh boy if I don’t answer this ask with a ridiculous amount of art how will I live?

*Digging out the dust covered manuscript that is my nonexistent Beetlebabes fic from under the floorboards* It’s showtime.

So...Lydia is the one who falls first. She is about 17 or 18 at the time, so this is very much an “I have a teen crush on someone I am not supposed to” type of deal. Honestly they fell in love with each other way before that but like, platonically 

Beej is...horribly oblivious XD. Honestly its for the best because Lydia spends the better part of her pre-college summer freaking about because any time her best friend walks in the door her heart wants to go bull-riding in her chest and if she actually has to confront her feelings she might just explode.

Then, just before Lydia was supposed to go away to college, Beetlejuice...disappears. He leaves a note, saying he’ll be back, but weeks turn into months, months turn into a year, and no one either in the living world or the netherworld has seen a hair of him. Lydia goes through college without really knowing what to do with herself, missing what was probably the closest person in her life. She graduates with a journalism degree and a minor in photography. She works for a newspaper as an investigative journalist before breaking off over less than great circumstances and going off on her own.

She’s 25 when she establishes herself as a pivate eye, with an enormous amount of anonymous sources being dead people. Also, this takes place in New York City.

(Yes she absolutely does exorcisms on the side).

She’s following a rather stange missing persons case when one of her sources points to a run down establishment that is 100% totally haunted. Except when she goes there she doesn’t find any ghosts, but rather

Beetlejuice. And he looks awful. And very much human.

Lydia: You look like hell.

Beej: Yeah, I just got back.

...

Beej: Also I’ma pass out now so you better catch me.

So he crashes at Lydia’s place, and the whole thing turns into solving the crime as well as Beej’s  mysterious aquirement of a beating heart and working lungs. He doesn’t remember how that’s happened, only now everything is Too Much with Too Many Feelings. Speaking of feelings, you bet your ass there is PINING. SO much pining. Lydia’s best friend comes back and suddenly those feelings she’d dismissed as a stupid teenage crush come FLOODING BACK. 

While Lydia’s internally feaking out over her feelings (it's totally normal and platonic to wanna kiss your best friend while he sleeps, right??), Beetlejuice is, you guessed it, totally oblivious! To his own feelings especially! All he knows is that it's his best friend only now she seems like a completely different person, and hot. She is now hot. His mad respect for Lydia makes him bury that thought deep, deep down. Also the whole marriage deal is a source on bad memories for both of them and he doesn’t wanna ruin the only good thing he’s ever had and-

Anyway, more pining:

Lydia’s feelings bring out resentment, too. She hates that Beej calls her kid, because that means he still sees her as one, and her ego and her desire for him make her want him to see her, the woman who's seen some real shit in the name of finding the truth, who can take care of herself, and who is very different from that angsty 15 year old girl on the roof. 

It all comes ahead to a big confrontation where Lydia is shot, and Beetlejuice has to drag her to the hospital without any knowledge of how human bodies work and he has no magic so he can’t help her-

The hospital needs to know his relationship to her when they take her away, and Beetlejuice knows they wont let him in unless he’s close family so he is blurts out: “Husband. Yeah, I’m her...husband.”

Lydia wakes up with a patched up hole in her side and Beetlejuice clinging to her hand. She’s happy she’s alive, but also angry, because she could have avoided all of this. She was competent enough to not need anyone to rescue her. 

She wants to get back on the case as soon as possible, she found the key lead, but Beej doesn’t wanna hear it, cause he saw way too much of her blood and he’s not big on how human bodies work, but he's pretty sure that shit’s supposed to stay inside. They’re arguing when the nurse comes in and adresses him as “Mr. Deetz.”

Lydia snatches the clipboard away, sees that he’s told them she’s his wife, and is livid. Because crush or not the wedding thing had a whole lot of baggage she does not want to unpack. She has to confront the fact that her feelings are for someone who manipulated her into marriage at 15 and who she’s not supposed to see in that way but she does anyway.

And Beej, a dumbass but also angry cause she almost died out of a stupid reckless mistake is like: "Why are you all mad? It was a green card thing. It's not like it means anything." And that gets Lyds even more upset, with him cause he's an idiot, and with herself because she's still pining for someone who, she thinks, still sees her as a child. 

Lyds, getting her coat: "Fuck off." 

BJ: "Kid-"

 Lydia: "Stop calling me that! I haven't been a child since my mother died. I haven't been a child since you showed up! I haven't been a child since I've started this, since I moved here, since the first asshole tried to kill me. I've been through literal hell and I've had to pull myself out of it all on my own because I was still here and you left."

There's a beat of silence as Lydia realizes what she just said. 

Lydia: "And that's fine. Because I don't need you. I don't need anyone. You taught me that, at least." She yanks her coat onto her shoulders and turns to go.

 BJ, quietly, but its clear he's angry: "Do you think I wanted to leave?" 

Lydia: "I don't know what you wanted. Do you even know what you wanted?" She pauses at the door, turns to him. "Do you know what you want, Betelgeuse?" 

BJ: "I-" 

He stops. He can't look her in the eye anymore. You. I want you. Lydia scoffs, turns to go. 

BJ: "Lydia, wait-" 

Lydia: "Fuck. Off."

She leaves, and he just stands there, floored by his too little too late realization. Lydia thinks the best thing to do after leaving the hospital with a bullet hole in her side and hopped up on painkillers is to go get drunk! Self-preservation? None

Beetlejuice finally finds her drunk off her ass and suddenly in a great mood. He grabs her under the arms like "Whelp. Time to go." 

Lydia: "Nooo come on-" 

BJ: "Aren't you on hospital drugs? Doesn't that shit kill you breathers if you mix it all up?" 

Lydia: ":D I stopped taking them :'D it hurts like a bitch." 

BJ: "I guess I have the shared braincell now. Okay, time to go."

He manages to get her in the car without incident, but when he gets in the driver's seat suddenly Lydia's all over him.

BJ, with a lap full of drunk Lydia: "What. What are you doing." 

Lydia: "Beeetlejuice." 

BJ: "Yeees?" 

Lydia, smiling all dopey as she cups his cheeks: "Beeetlejuuuice."

BJ: "What" 

Lydia's finger hovers over his nose, as if to boop him. He closes his eyes. And suddenly her lips are on his. She tastes like alcohol and hospital food and as she pulls away he can't think. Then she starts laughing. "Ha! Gotchaaa! Classic Bait and Switch!"

And he’s pissed.

BJ: "Ha. Ha. Good one, Lyds." 

He dumps her out of his lap and into the passenger seat. Lydia blinks in confusion. Now she's cold. She wants to ask, but her mental faculties aren't all with her at the moment. He drives them home and helps her up the stairs before dumping her onto her bed. "Well. Bye." Lydia scrambles up the bed. The car ride gave her enough time to be at least a bit sober, and everything before getting here is blurry. "Where are you going?" Beetlejuice turns around, the widest smile on his face. She's confused for a moment before she realizes he's vibrating with rage. "Ya said you want me gone? Great! You don't need me, you can do your weird little suicidal quest thing yourself!" Lydia looks lost. They had a fight but she'd rarely seen him this angry. "If its about the thing at the hospital, I didn't- I didn't mean it-"

Beetlejuice: "Really? You'd think you'd be glad to have me gone. Why would you want a creep like me around? The whole marriage thing didn't just disappear, after all! Great to know you can still pull one on me, huh?"

Lydia: "Pull what, Beetlejuice-"

She remembers, hazily, the car ride.

They stare at each other for a moment Beej is breathing heavily, he's not used to living person emotions, ones you can feel with your whole body instead of just as an abstract thing, but its clear he's holding back

Lydia: "I wasn't-" 

Beej: "You weren't what?"

 Lydia (quietly): "It wasn't a joke."

The angry grin slips off Beej's face. He suddenly looks very, very tired. She might have believed just now that he'd lived for millennia. 

 Beej: “Why are you doin' this, Lyds? Did you know the whole damn time? It's not like I was gonna do anything, I just thought- I just-”

Lydia suddenly realizes that they are having two different conversations. And something else. She looks away, trying to wrap her head around it, and Beetlejuice doesn't read it correctly. He turns to go. 

Lydia: “Wait!”

 She jumps off the bed, feeling the whole world tip over slightly, still drunk, and stumbled over to him. He catches her instinctively as she grips his forearms for support. 

Lydia: “Beej. Beej, look at me.” 

She takes his face in her hands, and turns it toward her. He looks so lost, like one word from her might actually break him. She'd only seen that look on his face once before, and she never wants to again.

Lydia takes a breath. 

Lydia: “Beetlejuice, I-”

Aaand then she throws up all over his shoes.

She doesn't quite remember what happened next, only that she was in the bathroom, leaning against the door, the toilet was flushed, she was sweating, and he wasn't there. 

Lydia: “Beej?” 

Beetlejuice (through the door): “...hi”

Lydia: “What-”

BJ: “-happened? Well, that's a story!” 

His voice sounds cheerful, but it’s shaking slightly 

BJ: “First ya threw up all over us both! then that little experiment of yours with mixing the meds went off, and you started babbling about...rocks? Then we got here, you heaved out the rest of your insides, and then ya kicked me out and said you were gonna shower, and now we're sitting here, so, yeah”

Lydia: “...Are you still covered in puke?” 

BJ:”...yeah”

Lydia: “...sorry?” 

BJ: “Pshh, what's a best friend if ya can't throw up on 'im a couple times.”

They both fall silent

Beetlejuice (quietly): “Lyds, do ya still want me here?”

...

 Lydia takes the time to find the words. Want him here? After everything, he was still asking that question. Did he still think, after all this time, that she'd throw him out at the smallest inconvenience? Would he ever stop thinking that way? Why did he think so now? Was it because he- Because he-

Lydia: “I love you.”

The other side of the door is silent. 

Lydia: “I love your stupid laugh. You sound like a fucking cartoon villain, its so fucking obnoxious. I love your jokes, all of them, even the shitty ones- you always look so god damn proud when you say them.”

Is she crying? She tries to wipe at her face, but the tears keep coming. 

Lydia: “I loved you since that last day on the roof, and when you left-” 

Her throat closes up. She chokes back on her tears, she has to finish it, he has to hear it. 

Lydia: “When you left I thought I might die again.” 

Lydia: “I kept seeing things, dumb branding on cereal boxes, that shitty college play I went to, my first client, and I kept thinking aw, Beej would have a field day with this one. I thought about what you'd say. You were like a voice I couldn't scrape out of my head, I thought I was going crazy, I thought I'd imagined it all, some lonely little girl with no life or friends, needing someone to talk to- But you'd been real, and then you were just gone- “

The words dissolve in her throat as she sobs, pulling her knees up to her chest. She feels like a child now. She feels more childlike than she had at 15. She’s clinging to a scrap of hope she doesn’t have a right to demand from him. And yet he'd said- 

Lydia: “I love you. Please, don't leave.”

They sit is silence for a while. Lydia tries to stop crying. Then, quietly from the other side of the door:

BJ: “You know what I thought when I first saw you?”

Lydia: “Here’s a suicidal teen haha what a riot?”

BJ: “What? No, not then. Like now.”

Lydia: “Oh. What?”

BJ: “I thought wow, who the hell is that and why is she so dang hot?”

Lydia laughs.

BJ: “And then I thought oh God that’s Lydia.”

Something in his voice makes her pause. Maybe it’s the strange fear that she feels coming from him.

BJ: “It’s like, you’re Lydia, and I don’t know shit about you! You’re the same person, but you’re a stranger to me. Lyds, do you know how fucking terrifying that is? You’re someone I never got to know because of a shitty decision I don’t even remember making.”

he falls silent. She can hear the pain in his voice. And something else. Longing. 

Beetlejuice: “I’d like to.”

Lydia opens the door. Beetlejuice scrables up, only for her to throw her arms around him. 

They figure it out. It’s a slowburn 200k fic that I’ll never write so it takes a while for them to actually kiss, or do anything more, but they get there. 

This turned out...ridiculously long XD. I don’t know what you meant by “headcanons”, exactly, but have this instead.

Thanks for the ask! 

[out-of-jams]

Rebound || pjm

↠ Rebound ↞ Who cared if Kim Taehyung slept with other people? You sure as hell didn’t. That was what friends with benefits meant, right? No, it didn’t matter that you were halfway in love with him. And no, you sure as hell weren’t going to try and make him jealous with a complete stranger. Nope, not at all. Right?

Right.

Word Count: 7k.

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Warnings/Genre: College!au. s2l. Explicit language. Alcohol use. Slight angst. Jealousy. Pining. One shot. PG 16.

(yes, this is a repost of the original, but this has been changed and i'd already deleted it so yeet)

All works here are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. ��out-of-jams. Do not copy or repost without permission. That is illegal and you are stealing no matter if you give credit or not.

                              | | Masterlist | |

“So, you’re coming to the party tonight, right?”

The feminine and slightly accusatory voice of your best friend went in one ear and out of the other. You were too busy watching the digital red numbers counting upwards above the elevator doors to pay much attention to your phone. And the hum of the steel machine sent vibrations through your spine as you leaned against the back wall. With your heart in your throat and palms sweating, you took a deep breath.

���Hello? Y/n!”

“I dunno, Jennie,” you mumbled, bottom lip tucked between your teeth. The elevator was so slow that it practically moved backwards in time. “I might be too busy to go tonight.”

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line and you could practically picture the way Jennie was probably comparing outfits to wear for the night. “What you mean by that is, ‘I can’t go to the party with my best friend because I’ll be too busy fucking Kim Taehyung.’ Was I close?”

Not even her crass words could wipe the excited smile from your face. “Maybe.”

Kim Taehyung.

Three months of hooking up with the guy and just hearing his name still brought a blush to your cheeks. It was no secret that every girl and even some of the guys on campus had a crush on him at some point. He was beautiful. Adonis masquerading as a human made of flesh and blood. Tall, slim and charismatic, he knew everyone, and everyone knew him. If you needed a connection, Taehyung was the person that you went to. Teachers loved him, grandmothers loved him, hell, even animals loved him.

Which, of course, meant that he could have had any single person that he blinked those pretty brown eyes at.

When he’d pulled out a chair and sat down next to you in your shared photography class at the beginning of the semester, you couldn’t believe your eyes. And neither could any of the other girls in the room, if their glares were anything to go by. Because you weren’t anything special. Nor did you come close to Taehyung’s level. You didn’t have a bunch of friends, just Jennie, and you sure as hell weren’t anything to look twice at. So, you’d just chalked it up to him wanting to sit in one of the only two window seats and left it at that.

Fifteen minutes into class and he’d turned those chocolate eyes in your direction, chin resting in the palm of his hand. And when his cupid-bow lips parted, the smooth baritone of his voice spoke quietly in order to not interrupt the professor taking attendance.

“I haven’t seen you around before. What’s your name?”

Nine words. That’s all it took to seal your fate.

Five days later and you were pinned beneath his sweating, honey colored skin. Kim Taehyung had hypnotized you with his white toothed smile and you were pathetically weak to that silver tongue of his.

One night in his bed and you were his.

A single night turned into two and then three, and then before you knew it, Taehyung would wait for you outside of your last class for the day to walk you home. And his name would pop up on your phone at two am on a Saturday, his voice seductive through the receiver as he convinced you to take an Uber to his apartment.

You thought that you would have been strong enough to resist falling down the rabbit hole that was Kim Taehyung. But you were too weak to stop yourself from wanting more. From confessing to him your feelings that had built up with each press of his mouth to yours. You weren’t foolish enough to think that you were dating him. Though that did little from imagining that you were more than just a hook-up to him. That his heart beat quickly in his chest every time he laid those mocha eyes on you. It’d gotten to the point where you couldn’t take it anymore.

Which was exactly why you were glaring up at the slow ticking numbers above the elevator door with your foot tapping a nervous rhythm. Today was the day that you were finally going to grab the proverbial bull by the horns and confess your feelings for the man that walked your dreams like he owned them.

“I gotta go,” you quickly cut off whatever sentence Jennie had been in the middle of, already pulling the phone from your ear in preparation to hang up. “Talk to youlaterokaybye!”

Whether or not she’d been able to decipher your jumble of words wasn’t really your problem. Because the elevator came to a halt with one last obnoxious and unnecessary bounce. Closing your eyes, you swallowed.

“Okay, suck it up.” A deep inhale echoed through the steel box, accompanied by the rustle of the plastic bag of takeout dangling from your fingertips. “You got this, Y/n.”

A ding! was all the warning you got before the doors slid open along with your eyes.

And your stomach dropped all the way back down to the first floor.

Not even halfway down the hall, two bodies were mercilessly tangled with one another. Pushed up against one of the apartment doors, a flash of blond hair and tan skin was recognizable even with his back turned to you. And the girl, you couldn’t make out her face or a majority of her body seeing as how Taehyung’s was blocking her from view.

The elevator’s doors slowly started to close, but you couldn’t move. Frozen in place, all you could do was stare at Taehyung as he fished into his back pocket for his keys and blindly unlocked his front door. Both of them disappeared from sight just as the steel doors finally shut.

Your shocked, hurt expression was mirrored back to you in the morphed reflection. Plastic slipped through your fingers and the bag of takeout hit the floor with a muted thud. Vision blurring from tears, you jammed a finger into the button to go back down to the lobby floor. The elevator was sluggish in responding, so you pressed the plastic again. And again. And again.

How could you have been so stupid? So naive as to think that you would be the only person that Taehyung was hooking up with. You should have known that there was no way in hell he would have returned your feelings. But like the idiot you were, you’d let yourself get drunk on him. And now you were paying the price for being foolish.

The elevator finally moved, and you threw your head back to stop the tears from spilling over. Waiting until you were out of the shitty lobby to Taehyung’s shitty apartment building would be the only way you’d be able to hold onto your last shred of dignity.

“Back already?” Jennie didn’t even turn to look at you when you entered your shared dorm room, too busy examining her outfit in the full-length mirror. Whenever she got invited to go to a party, she always planned what she was going to wear hours in advance. Only to brush off the compliments she would receive at said functions with a giggle and nonchalant wave of her hand.

The door closed behind you with finality and you couldn’t hold back the sob that’d been threatening to break free since you fled Taehyung’s apartment building. Jennie whipped around at the sound, dropping the skirt she held in her hands and letting it fall to the floor.

“What happened?” In two seconds, she was across the room and held your face between her soft hands. Concern flickered through her dark colored eyes as she wiped the tears from your cheeks. “Did Taehyung do something to you? I swear to god, say the word and I’ll call up the guy from my biology class to kick his ass.”

You shook your head, which was more difficult than it looked with the grip she had on you. And when you opened your mouth to answer, the words barely made it past your lips with how hard the sobs rocked your body. “No...no, don’t call Jungkook. I’m just so stupid, Jennie.”

“You’re not stupid.” She murmured but guided you over to your bed and waited until you sat down to speak again. “Tell me what happened.”

There was something about her that made you spill your heart out. You’d been too reluctant to tell her about your feelings for Taehyung before. All she’d known was that the two of you hooked up frequently. She sat there patiently, nodding her head and scowling when you got to the part about him sleeping with other girls.

“So he never brought that up?” Jennie leaned back against your headboard and sucked her cheek in anger. “That he was seeing other people?”

Shaking your head, you whipped your damp eyes with the sleeves of your shirt. “No, but I should have known. I shouldn’t be so surprised.”

Your best friend opened her mouth to respond with what was most likely an angry rant aimed at summoning Jeon Jungkook to fight Taehyung. He was two years younger than her and yet that did little from preventing the enormous crush she had on the guy, even though she would argue otherwise. You held up a hand to stop her words before they could form.

“Look, I just want to forget about him, okay? I shouldn’t have thought...,” sighing, you ran a hand down your face, voice small. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

“Okay then.” Jennie nodded her head slowly. She stood from the bed and crossed the small amount of space between your bed and hers. Swooping down to grab some of the discarded clothes on her duvet, she turned to shoot you a smirk. “You’ll just have to get over him.”

You flopped down on your back, throwing an arm over your face. “That’s what I just said.”

“Yes, but how do you get over him?”

Too emotionally exhausted to bother with throwing her a glare, you huffed in irritation. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be lying here with my heart broken.”

A short pause encompassed the room before you heard Jennie’s footsteps approach your bed. She dragged your arm from your face and made sure you met her assured gaze. “That was rhetorical. You get over him by getting under someone else.”

You snorted, though it lacked amusement. “Having sex with a stranger won’t help.”

She shrugged and used her grip on your arm to pull you into a sitting position. “Or it might, you never know. You just need to find someone who can make you forget about Kim Taehyung.”

“That’s not possible,” your dry tone did nothing to dissuade her. Jennie threw a piece of fabric over your head, effectively blocking out all of the light and shrouding you in a blanket of darkness.

“It is possible. Now get dressed, you’re coming to that party with me tonight.”

“Do I have to?” You complained but held what you now realized was a skirt out in front of you. It was...well, short. Would barely even hit mid-thigh. “You know I don’t go to parties that often.”

“Which is exactly why you need to.” She was too busy examining a cute, short sleeve top to bother being affected by your glare. Apparently deeming it good enough, she tossed it in your lap. “If you don’t go, I’ll just drag you there.”

Arguing with Jennie was a lot like talking to a brick wall. Once she set her mind to something, getting her to change it bordered on impossible. And to be honest, you didn’t have the energy to even try. So with a grumble, you slid off of your bed. “Fine.”

“Maybe you should slow down?” Jennie’s suggestion came out more like a question, but you didn’t hear her because you were too busy downing another shot.

The vodka burned as it snaked its way down your throat and you hardly even noticed before you started to pour another shot. All around you, music poured from the obnoxiously large speakers set up throughout the frat house, shaking the floor with just how loud the bass was. Not even the music could detract from the heat of bodies grinding against each other on the makeshift dance floor.

You weren’t sure which frat house you were at to be honest. Not that it mattered. They were all the same anyway and the free alcohol had called your name the moment you stepped foot inside the packed place. Jennie stood next to you in the almost empty kitchen with a red solo cup held delicately in her manicured hand. She stared at you with barely hidden concern while you knocked back a third shot.

“O-kay.” She reached out a hand to grab the bottle of vodka from you when you went to pour another. “Pace yourself before I have to carry you home.”

“You’re the one that wanted me to come,” you complained but let her confiscate your alcohol anyway. “Might as well get drunk off the free supply.”

“Yes, well.” Jennie raised an eyebrow, scooting closer to you at the island when a guy you didn’t recognize approached to mix his own concoction of poison. “While that’s true, ending up face down in a dirty frat house toilet isn’t the way you wanna go out. Trust me.”

You paused in surveying the darkened room of dancing bodies to send her a questioning look. “You speaking from experience here?”

“Oh, shut up.” She let out a very unladylike snort into her cup and brushed her long black hair over her exposed shoulder. She nodded at the crowd in the other room. “Look, let’s just find you a hot guy to get under so you can get over that douchebag.”

The guy who’d been pouring himself a drink looked over at Jennie’s words, eyes lighting up in interest. She either didn’t notice or did and chose to ignore him. You sighed and tried your hardest to ignore the way your stomach dropped at the reminder of Taehyung. “I doubt I’ll find anyone here that could compare to him.”

A slap to your bare arm had you turning to glare at your best friend, fingers rubbing furiously at your now red skin. Jennie just rolled her eyes with an exasperated huff. “Not with that attitude you won’t. Besides, Kim Taehyung is not all that.”

The strange guy occupying the kitchen made himself scarce after that, whatever interest he may have had in the conversation fleeing at the mention of Taehyung. She ignored your look of disbelief and continued. “He’s not. There’s plenty of hotties here who would be eager to take his place. You could literally just close your eyes and point.”

She wasn’t wrong there. The number of attractive men that paraded themselves around the party like peacocks werenice to look at. But they weren’t Taehyung. And that was where your problems lie.

“Go take a lap.” Jennie didn’t wait for you to respond before her hand was on your back, pushing you towards the open kitchen archway. “If you don’t find someone who catches your eye, then we can just call it a night and get drunk.”

Letting out a put-upon sigh, you sent her a look over your shoulder and let her push you out of the kitchen. She didn’t follow, choosing instead to retreat back into the kitchen and strike up a conversation with a girl she apparently knew. Whatever. It wasn’t like you needed her to escort you around like you were a child at a birthday party. No! You were an adult. A grown woman who was going to get over Kim Taehyung.

And if you had to get under someone else to do it, well, that was exactly what you were going to do.

The barely lit living room was completely different from the bright lights in the kitchen, and you had to squint to let your eyes adjust for a moment. It was just like you’d seen when you’d walked through earlier, though you hadn’t been paying much attention then. Not even two feet to your left was a couple. What they were doing couldn’t even be defined as dancing, it was more like sex with clothes on.

Grimacing, you weaved through the crowd, most people not bothering to move out of your way. The seductive music that poured over your ears was silently beckoning you to move your hips to the beat, but you resisted. You weren’t nearly drunk enough to let loose on your inhibitions and drown in the pulsing rhythm. So, you pressed on, navigating from the living room and into the spacious foyer. It connected one side of the house to the other and you took a moment to breathe.

Eyes closed; you ran a shaking hand through your hair. You could do this. Hell, it wasn’t even the thought of sleeping with a stranger that made you hesitant. Whether or not you were just a hook-up to him, your feelings for Taehyung had been real. It’d been a very long time since you’d last felt the same way for someone, to the point where you’d begun to think that you never would again.

You were heartbroken.

Over a guy who couldn’t give two shits about you.

If you closed your eyes, you could hear his voice murmuring in your ear. And the ghosts of his fingertips could be felt running through your hair, short nails scratching against your scalp. The way his tongue spoke words was one of your favorite things about him, and his deep baritone practically yelled in your ear.

Wait.

Your eyes flew open in shock. No, it hadn’t been your imagination after all. Because Taehyung’s excited shout reached over the music and had your head snapping in that direction. Your feet moved before you registered it, right across the foyer and into the other room. Inside was just as dark as the living room, except this one was lit up by a glow-in-the-dark beer pong table situated right in the center.

Couches had been pushed up against the walls and were occupied by people either passed out or couples making out like they were alone in their own homes. You didn’t pay them any mind, nor did you notice anything else in the near vicinity. Because on the far side of the beer pong table stood Taehyung. His blond hair glowed white in the neon lighting and the yellow button-down shirt he had on made him look like a well-dressed highlighter.

He had one hand raised, a white ping pong ball held between his slender fingers. Dark brows were pinched in concentration and his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth as he stared down the cup on the other side of the table. But that wasn’t what had you freezing in your tracks, effectively blocking the doorway.

His other arm was slung around the petite shoulders of the same girl you’d caught him making out with earlier that day. Or at least, you assumed it was her since you hadn’t been able to get a good glimpse of her face. Not like how you could now. She was pretty. Beautiful. With long brunette hair that framed her pixie-like face perfectly. And her cute, girlish giggle floated through the air while she watched with big, innocent eyes as Taehyung dramatically took his shot.

You didn’t even notice it land in the last cup standing on the other side, too busy caught up in how that girl was everything you weren’t. It was no wonder she’d caught his eye. You’d been surprised that he’d even given you attention in the first place but had taken it as a confidence booster. Had thought that maybe you weren’t as plain looking as you’d thought you were. But now?

Now you were positive that Taehyung had only slept with you because you were convenient. Or because he was bored. Whichever it was, you felt your insecurities rear their ugly head along with a flash of white-hot anger. Jealousy tightened your throat, and you couldn’t even stop yourself from glaring at the unsuspecting girl.

How dare he?

How dare he sleep with you and then throw you away like you were nothing? Like you meant nothing? Like you were just another notch under his belt?

You’d show him.

The crowd gathered around the table was cheering, some going up to pat Taehyung on the back. He was too busy flashing his boxy grin at a tall, dimpled man to even notice that you’d entered the room. A guy broke free of the crowd, shorter than some in stature but beautiful enough to make you look twice, and his feline-like eyes barely met your own before he slipped past you and out of the room.

“We need another player!”

A split second after the shout overtook the crowd, you found your feet moving on their own once again. Raising a hand in an attempt to be seen over the taller boys, you blamed the alcohol for the way your voice left your mouth unhindered. “I’ll play!”

The crowd parted at your call and you emerged on the other side before you could second guess yourself. Cups were being set back up by those standing on the sidelines, cans of beer cracking open and filling the plastic halfway up. Your eyes locked with Taehyung’s chocolate ones and his face morphed into one of surprise before a grin overtook his features. The arm he still had around the girl had yet to drop.

“Y/n, hey!” He waved an opened can of beer at you in greeting and it was by pure will alone that your steps didn’t falter. How was he acting so casual with his arm around another girl like he hadn’t just been making you scream his name two days ago?

Did you really mean so little to him?

Bitterness stung your throat and fed the anger coating your tongue.

“Are you my new partner?” A voice, so surprisingly sweet and raspy that it contradicted itself in the best possible way, drew your attention from the blond across the beer pong table.

You hadn’t been thinking straight, therefore you hadn’t even given a second thought to the fact that you’d just volunteered yourself to play a game you’d only participated in a handful of times. A glance to your left had you doing a double take. Because the guy approaching you didn’t call for anything less.

Full, kissable lips were the first thing about him that caught your eye. They were pulled back in a grin and you took a moment to notice a cute, crooked front tooth. Even with the lack of sufficient lighting, you could tell that his mouth was soft. That he applied chap stick often. Moving your gaze slowly upwards past a button nose, you finally met his gaze. His eyes weren’t chocolate colored like Taehyung’s or dark like Jennie’s.

Espresso. 

The same shade as the coffee you drank in the morning to get through the day. Deep and expressive, they reflected the glow of the table despite the fact that they were squinted up into half-moons from his smile. He ran a lightly tanned hand through his black hair and your attention shifted to the two silver rings on his fingers. His hands, much like himself, were petite, but not in a way that made him look small. 

No, he was slender, slim, and all leg. The muscles in his thighs were perfectly visible through the tight material of his ripped jeans. And a soft looking striped sweater took up his top half.

His dark brows were lifted in a silent question and it was at that moment that you remembered he was waiting for you to answer. Clearing your throat, you pushed Taehyung to the back of your mind and gave him your best smile. 

“Yeah. I haven’t played in forever so I’m sorry if I suck.”

Laughter fell from his mouth, a sweet sound, and he shook his head at you. “That’s okay. I’m not very good either.”

In a flash of silver, he extended a hand out to you. “Park Jimin. And you are? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

Your hand met his. It was soft yet had calluses that made you wonder where he got them from. Tilting your head up, you met his curious stare. “Y/n. And I’d be surprised if you have. I don’t get out much.”

“Yet you’re here volunteering to play beer pong with me?” Jimin let go of your hand to press his palm to his chest, teeth flashing in another grin. “I’m honored.”

“Remember you said that when we lose.” You snorted in amusement.

“You guys playing or not?” The question came from the right side of the table and you turned to look at the same dimpled man Taehyung had been talking to. He waved his hand at the table with a smirk aimed at Jimin over your shoulder.

“Ignore Namjoon.” Jimin nudged your side with his elbow, making sure to catch your eye before he threw you a conspiratorial wink. “He’s drunk.”

“I heard that!” The man you assumed was Namjoon shouted over the music. He rolled his eyes and nodded his head towards Taehyung’s side of the table. The blond’s arm had dropped from the girl’s shoulders, but he wasn’t looking in your direction, too busy downing the rest of his beer. “Tae’s team starts since he won.”

Namjoon must have been playing as the referee, but with the way his eyes were glazed over, you wondered if he was in the right state of mind to. Taehyung crumpled his now empty can of beer and set it off to the side of the table, reaching forward to grab a ping pong ball and dip it into a cup of water next to his empty can. He barely even paused before taking his turn.

Of course, his shot landed.

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop a scowl from overtaking your face. When the unnamed girl at his side picked up her own ball, you silently prayed for her downfall. Or at least for her face to get stuck in that expression she was making. How was it possible to still look attractive when her nose scrunched like yeah?

“You got this, Minjae.” Taehyung’s encouraging words barely even registered through the green tinted fog clouding your vision.

She--Minjae--finally took her turn and as if in slow motion, the ball flew through the air and bounced against the rim of the first cup in the triangle. And because of course, it landed in the beer filled one next to it. Gritting your teeth, you glared at it.

Jimin pouted but grabbed up the cup the ball landed in anyway. Plucking it out, he handed it to you with a smile and grabbed the other. “Cheers.”

You absentmindedly tapped your cup against his and downed the bitter, carbonated alcohol. The taste lingered on your tongue. An arm being casually thrown over your shoulders had you glancing up from where you’d been watching Taehyung’s team get the balls back to go again. Jimin’s cologne washed away some of the stench of the party, masculine yet sweet, just like him. You had to stop yourself from inhaling like a weirdo when he murmured low enough for only you to hear.

“Okay, we should talk strategy.”

“There’s strategy to this game?” Your lips twitched in amusement. Flickering your attention to the other side of the table from the corner of your eye, you noticed Taehyung staring directly at you. Good. Pretending like you hadn’t noticed, you leaned into Jimin’s comforting warmth and grinned up at him. “I thought it was just a pretense to get wasted.”

A tiny dimple appeared between the corner of his mouth and his high cheekbone as a chuckle tumbled out. “While that’s true, the goal is to get drunk and win.”

“What did you have in mind then?”

Jimin’s espresso irises twinkled and he leaned closer conspiratorially, making sure to keep an eye on Minjae taking her turn. “Taehyung has been carrying their team all night. So, all you gotta do is distract him whenever it’s his turn.”

Her shot veered too far to the left and bounced off the table. Namjoon attempted to grab it out of the air, but he fumbled it and it fell to the sticky floor. Jimin’s words had your brows furrowing. “Distract him how?”

He shrugged, lightly jostling your shoulders with his arm. Taehyung was talking to Minjae, his words too quiet to hear, with a ball rolling between his fingers. Jimin leaned back a little, letting his eyes rove over you. “You’re cute. You’d sure as hell distract me.”

You couldn’t blame the people crowding the room for the way your cheeks flushed. The flirtatious compliment fell from his lips so easily and sincerely that you couldn’t doubt that he meant them. Which just made you flustered all over again. Clearing your throat, you did your best to play it off. Just as you opened your mouth to respond, a familiar voice had you snapping it closed again.

“It’s your turn.”

Taehyung had his arms crossed and he nodded at the cup his ball landed in when both you and Jimin looked over.

“Alright, alright,” your partner responded playfully, squeezing your shoulder with a smile just for you. “I’ll take this one, you can go first.”

While Jimin drained the cup of beer, you approached the table and took one of the balls from Namjoon with a nod of thanks. It was wet and sticky between your fingers and you took a moment to spare a thought towards how unsanitary the game was. One of the cups in the middle of the other team’s formation caught your eye. Hesitating for only a moment, you took aim and tossed the ball.

It landed right in the center and the noise from the crowd faded in the background when you met Taehyung’s heavy stare. His eyes were unreadable, but that wasn’t all that surprising. From your brief three-month stint with him, you’d learned that while friendly and outgoing, he was very good at hiding his emotions when he wanted to. Which made you wonder what exactly was going on behind those chocolate eyes of his.

“Holy shit.” Jimin appeared at your side and you broke your staring contest to beam over at him. “I thought you said you sucked.”

“Maybe you’re just my good luck charm.” You shrugged nonchalantly and tossed your hair over your shoulder. Oh, god. Were you trying too much? Flirting too hard?

“Maybe.” By the pleased look on his face, you’d take that as a no.

Jimin took his turn, landing his ball in a cup. You cheered along with the crowd and raised your hand in the space between the two of you. His palm hit yours in a high-five and you couldn’t even hide your excitement. It wasn’t that you were super competitive, you just wanted to beat Taehyung.

Though maybe beating him was setting your sights a little too high.

Because you and Jimin didn’t last much longer against him. Contrary to him assuming that you’d be any type of distraction to the blonde across the table at all, you weren’t. How could you, when Minjae stood by his side? Every time she missed a shot, he’d say something to wipe the frown from her face. Instead of forcing her to down the beer she grimaced at, Taehyung would drink it for her.

Had you really meant so little to him? What the hell did she have that you didn’t?

The answer to your silent question echoed in your mind as you watched him line up to take his winning shot.

Everything.

Practically in slow motion, the ball flew across the table and landed in the cup. It spun ‘round, and ‘round, and ‘round against the inner rim before finally falling into the carbonated liquid with a quiet plop!

Just like before, everyone spectating the game screamed. You weren’t anywhere near drunk enough to deal with the volume. It took a lot more than a few half-full cups of warm beer to push you over the edge. Maybe you shouldn’t have let Jennie confiscate that bottle of vodka you’d been drinking out of earlier.

At your side, Jimin let out a groan. He didn’t sound all that upset at having lost a second time and you spared a moment to get caught up in the way his hand felt on your shoulder. Despite the fact that it was incredibly stuffy inside of the house, he wasn’t overflowing with heat. The look he gave you was one of shared exasperated amusement. Like the two of you were in on a secret and hadn’t just lost a game.

Looking back over to the other side of the table, you were just in time to see Minjae throw her arms around Taehyung’s neck. He didn’t even hesitate to bend down and let her pull him into a congratulatory kiss.

Watching Taehyung touch the girl at his side like you weren’t even there made your blood boil. And if you were in the right state of mind, maybe you would have realized that it was hurt, not anger, that had you turning to Jimin. He’d just finished downing the final cup of beer when you approached him, grabbing his hand like it belonged in yours.

You weren’t sure what you were doing. Maybe it was the desire to be wanted that took control of your actions. Or perhaps the need to have someone erase the ghost of Taehyung’s touch that still lingered on your skin. Whatever it was, you found yourself gravitating towards the man at your side.

“Hey Jimin?”

Jimin’s coffee-colored eyes flickered down at you with a smile, but he didn’t pull away. And that was all the sign you needed to muster up your courage. If he rejected you, well, you’d have to change your name and move to another country. Picturing Jennie in your mind, you tried to conjure up every flirtatious move she’d used on guys before and fluttered your lashes, a sweet upwards tilt to your lips.

“You wanna go dance?”

Hand giving yours a quick squeeze, Jimin leaned down to murmur in your ear, “you sure you can keep up, sweetheart?”

His cheek was close enough to brush against yours as he spoke, and you blamed the alcohol for the way your mind went blank. Swallowing to clear your head, you responded. “I should be asking you that.”

Jimin leaned back just far enough for you to see the smirk that quirked up the side of his mouth. His thumb stroked along the back of your hand in time with his words. “We’ll see.”

You didn’t even have a chance to look back at Taehyung before Jimin was leading you through the crowd around the table and across the foyer. Hopefully he couldn’t hear how hard your heart was beating in your chest. You’d be lying if you said that Park Jimin wasn’t attractive. That his voice didn’t make you want to hear what it would sound like panting in your ear. The thought had your cheeks flushing, but you barely had time to let it permeate your mind. Jimin must have found a spot on the packed dance floor, because he turned to face you.

Maybe it was the lack of lights that made his eyes spark, or perhaps it was the challenge that simmered in the air between the two of you like an unlit spark. Whatever it was, Jimin’s hands found your waist and he pulled you in close until your hips met his. Your hands instinctively flew to his chest. He was warm and his sweater was soft beneath your palms as you slowly slid them upwards to lightly lock your arms around his neck.

It was either a blessing or a curse that had the song fading out into one that was more sensual. You would put money on the former, especially when his plush lips brushed against the shell of your ear.

“Show me what you got.” His words were completely unnecessary, since your hips had already begun swaying in time with the tempo.

Park Jimin must have been a dancer. That was the only excuse you could think up that proved how he moved. Like it was second nature, like his body had a mind of its own. One of his hands slid up your side until it rested right beneath your breast, and a leg found itself slipping between both of yours. The group of people dancing behind you didn’t even register on your radar; you were too busy focusing on the thick muscle of his thigh.

His hands angled your hips until you were grinding up right against it. You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you when he tensed his thigh right in time for you to grind against it. It sent a jolt of pleasure through you so suddenly that your nails gripped his shoulders in surprise. When you didn’t pull back or push him away, he took that as a sign to do it again.

That time you were expecting it, but that didn’t make it any less pleasurable. Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth was the only thing you could do to stop the sound that threatened to leave your throat. Dancing with someone you’d just met shouldn’t feel like that, shouldn’t make you imagine what it would be like if the two of you were alone.

Eyes closed, you let yourself get lost in the music and the feel of Jimin’s body. You couldn’t even blame the alcohol for the heat that simmered between your legs. Sweat made his dark hair stick to his forehead, and despite this, it was silky beneath your fingers as you gripped it. Ran your fingertips through the damp strands while his warm breath caressed the side of your neck.

You didn’t know how long the two of you danced, didn’t care to keep track.

The soft press of his lips to your neck had you tilting your head back for him. Your mouth parted as he kissed his way upwards. Once he reached where your jaw met your neck, he caught your skin between his teeth. As he sucked the sting of the pain away, you could practically feel the hickey beginning to bruise. But you didn’t mind. You were sure that if someone were to look over at the two of you, they’d see another couple getting handsy in the middle of the dance floor.

Not knowing who initiated it, one second Jimin’s lips were on your neck and the next they were on yours. Soft. That was the first and only word to pierce through the fog in your mind. The second was that holy shit he was a good kisser. Novice was not a word that you would use to describe him. And when his tongue parted your lips and slipped into your mouth to caress your own, you were consumed by all things Park Jimin.

The music, the heat of the crowd, the smell of beer, it all faded away until all you knew was the taste of his mouth. His teeth when they caught your bottom lip as he slowly pulled away before coming back for more.

“Your place?” You barely managed to mumble against his lips. And you knew it was sudden, knew you barely even knew him beyond his name, but your desire for him demanded to be addressed now.

“You sure?” Jimin’s voice was coated in lust, huskier than it had been when the two of you were just playing beer pong. His question, spoken between kisses, brought a smile to your face. Even in the heat of the moment, he was sweet.

But what you needed wasn’t sweet.

Your teeth caught his ear. “I want you.”

With one last press of his lips to yours, Jimin pulled away and his half-lidded coffee eyes met yours. They were glazed over, but not with the alcohol that flowed through his veins. He held your gaze, clearly searching for something before he found it. “C’mon.”

And as he led the way through the crowded bodies and towards the front door, you could have safely said that any and all thoughts of Taehyung were long gone from your mind.

[wulfies-kpop-fanfics]

One Photo → Mark Lee [6]

↳  Pairing: Mark Lee/Reader

↳  AU: Soulmate!AU - The first touch of two soulmates permanently scars their bodies.

↳  Warning: Suggestive

↳  Word count: 4,349

↳  Chapters: Prelude | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | You Are Here! | 7 | 8 | 9

⁙ Summary: For an end of the year photography project, you’re tasked with taking a photograph for your favourite group, NCT127, and coincidentally, discover your soulmate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FRIDAY - 6 - Part 2

As the two of you travel down the hallway making quiet conversation, Mark stops in his tracks. You're completely focused on him, not sure what he's looking at. The hallway goes silent, save for heavy breathing and the sound of kissing. 

Peeking out from behind Mark's back, you peer around the bend of the hallway to join your soulmate's gaze, landing on none other than Rhiannon and Donghyuck, the latter pushing her up against the wall. 

"You hypocrite!" Mark quickly covers your mouth with his hand, but it's already too late- both of them are startled enough to quickly separate and begin smoothing out their clothes. 

Once Rhiannon realizes that it's you and Mark that caught her, she grabs Donghyuck's hand. She looks completely serious, her face flushed red. "Where, need it now. Our turn." 

With your mouth still covered, you look up at Mark. He's still nearly stunned, exchanging looks with Donghyuck, who is equally frozen in place and watching all of this unfold. "Uh," Mark starts sheepishly, glancing between the couple standing before you. "End of the hall, second last room," 

Donghyuck nods and says something in Korean, and from context you assume he's done the same as Mark - prepared a room. He tugs on her hand gently, quickly leading her past the two of you - the slightly awkward moment passing as soon as Rhiannon and Donghyuck are out of sight. 

Mark removes his hand from your mouth, and you glance back for a moment. "Well," you say, swallowing thickly. "I guess I know how she feels now."

Mark smiles, barely keeping back a laugh. "Seems like it. Let’s go back to the stage before we find out if those rooms are soundproof or not." 

It was relieving to know that once you two arrived back in the arena, none of the guys even so much as made a whisper about what you and Mark so obviously left to do. Everyone was now sitting on the stage around what looked like a picnic blanket that had a spread of snacks over top of it. They all waved to greet you and Johnny helped you up on the stage when you approached. “Help yourself,” Jaehyun said, popping a piece of melon in his mouth. “We just gotta wait for Donghyuck and Rhiannon to come back and then we can do a small dance practice.” 

You and Mark happily approach the others and take your seats among them. You sigh in contentment as you chew on a piece of pineapple, finally chipping away at your post-sex appetite.

"So," Johnny begins as you're about to eat your second piece of pineapple, "we couldn't get much out of Mark, but we were all wondering why you and Rhiannon were living by yourselves off-campus in the city." 

You freeze for a moment, chewing and swallowing cautiously. Mark grabs your hand and looks at you sympathetically. 

"It's a little complicated," you answer, "but we chose to move out when we were accepted to college. I lived with her family for a while after my parents were arrested, but I feel like I made their home life a lot worse. I would have left earlier, but my inheritances and my government grants didn't arrive immediately." 

Jaehyun looked at you, eyebrows furrowed. "What happened to your parents?" 

You licked your lips and sighed. "Your general gang slash drug dealer gig. They both got hefty prison time for child neglect, drug possession and trafficking on top of harbouring fugitives." 

Everyone was silent, save for the muted sounds of eating. "That all sounds horrible," Johnny said. "I never would have guessed you came from that life."

"Sometimes I can't believe I went through any of that either," you agree, "after I left home my life got a lot better. I have Rhiannon to thank for it all. Because of her, I'm here now." You smile as best you can, picking up a mini ham and cheese sandwich triangle you spotted on the platter. 

"What are we all talking about?" Rhiannon called as she and Donghyuck entered through one of the side archways into the arena. You and Mark helped them up onto the stage where they took their places and also began picking at the food. 

"Collecting my life story," you say, watching the others nod. "I was saying that I lived with you and your family for a while until we moved out." 

"Mm, yeah. Rough few years," she commented, picking up her own sandwich triangle. "I'm so glad we moved out."

"Why?" Jungwoo asked, causing you to turn your attention to him.

Rhiannon licked her lips. "It was pretty easy going for the five of us while my mom was still around. (Y/N) and I were working to help my dad out and my mom ran a daycare. When the two of us were graduating from high school, my mom passed away from breast cancer." 

You looked down at the floor of the stage, acutely aware of the sullen silence as she paused. "Then life got bad. Mine and my sister's mental health plummeted and everyone was always arguing, especially my dad and my sister. Once (Y/N) and I were both accepted to study in the city, we moved out with her inheritance as fast as we could." 

"I'm sorry," Taeyong added. "It's better now, right?" 

"As good as it can be," you smile somberly, peeking up a little bit as Mark held your hand. "I miss our mom more and more every day, but we know she's watching over us, cheering us on. If we give up on what we've been working so hard for, she'd definitely beat our asses. Once we graduate, we will be able to build the best lives for ourselves as we can."

"Now that we have all of you, it feels like we fell out of a nightmare and ended up in a dream," Rhiannon said, chewing on another piece of food. "Now all I need to do is get (Y/N) to stop eating stuff with ketchup and I will reach nirvana."

You rolled your eyes and smiled at her. "Ketchup isn't that bad," you protest, nearly breaking out into full out laughter as Mark also makes a disgusted face toward you. 

"You like ketchup?" He asked, jokingly frowning. 

"Not as much as her sister," you point at Rhiannon, "Lindsay will eat ketchup with mac and cheese!"

"Oh God, that's disgusting!" Mark stuck his tongue out and nearly gagged. 

"We know!" Both you and Rhiannon exclaimed in unison. 

Things quieted down again as everyone finished the snacks that were laid out, and you all helped clean up once the tray of snacks was polished off. Yuta ended up being the one voted to go backstage with the dishes, but Johnny, Taeyong and Doyoung eventually offered to go and help. Jungwoo, Jaehyun and Taeil also left, you assumed to maybe go to the bathroom, leaving you, Rhiannon, Mark and Donghyuck to occupy the stage. 

Once the crowd had diminished, Rhiannon turned her attention to Mark, mischief written all over her face. You already know what's about to come out of her mouth, so you stand up and make your way onto the other side of the stage to hide behind a curtain. 

"(Y/N)? Why are you hiding?" Mark seems curious, standing up to walk over to you, but stops in his tracks when Rhiannon begins to speak. 

"So, Mark, you guys were up there for a while."

"Y-yeah…" his response was drawn out, not exactly sure where the conversation was going. You inwardly groaned. 

"Did you like (Y/N)'s boobs? Pretty big, right? Also super pretty," 

"Noona!" Donghyuck chimed in, also standing up and reaching for her arm. "That's bad!"

Mark goes beet red, looking your way sheepishly. He starts stuttering as if he's shutting down. You take a deep breath, you probably should do something. 

"Y-yeah, they were pretty great, um-" he starts, then it looks like something clicks in his head. "H-how would you know what they look like?"

Rhiannon grinned at him, her eyes shifting to the backstage entrance as Yuta and the others were all clamouring back in, "I've seen her naked tons of times. Best breasts on the market if you ask me." 

"This needs context! This really needs context!" Johnny shouted as soon as everyone else stopped in their tracks. 

At this point, Mark is so red that you think he might actually turn into a tomato. He's completely frozen and speechless, mouth hanging open in shock. Taking in a deep breath you emerge from the curtain you take Mark's hand and squeeze it gently. 

"How about we address how quickly you came back from the VIP rooms?" You question, sticking your other hand on your hip.

"Well, y'know," she starts, looking over at the small crowd of boys staring in disbelief. 

"Noona-" Donghyuck tries to stop her, but she whispers something in his ear which in turn seems to stop his protest. 

"I'm all for taking dick up my cooch but I figured a nice thigh fuck would be better to start out with. Keep them wanting more, right? Oh, he's not small, either."  She winked. 

"Noonaaaaaa," Donghyuck whines, following that up with something else in Korean you couldn't understand. Everyone in the room was completely silent, frozen in disbelief of what had just entered their ears. 

"Well, I think you got your context, John," Jaehyun was the first to utter any words. 

It definitely took a while for you to process what just happened. You knew what Rhiannon was like and you expected a small comment from her, but you were completely floored. You opened your mouth to say something, but no words came. 

"Well, let's not just stand here, we have an hour before the stylists want us," Taeyong clapped his hands politely, and that seemed to get everyone else in gear. The awkwardness still took a while to fade, so you and Rhiannon decided to sit off to the side while the boys clamoured into their positions to practice dancing. 

Once the melody of Cherry Bomb entered your ears, your heart began to thud in your chest. It was one of your favourite songs by them, and the dance was also easily one of your favourites, just behind BOSS. You sat just by the edge of the curtain, clapping along and waving whenever Mark glanced in your direction, tapping your feet against the floor. Rhiannon was outright jamming next to you, making you laugh and grin at her as you shook your head. 

When Simon Says started, you stood and (pathetically) tried to imitate the dance as you stood in your spot. Mark looked over at you for a split second as he faced you to change positions in the dance and he flashed a quick thumbs up with a smile. 

The next thing you notice though is Rhiannon, who also decided to stand up to start dancing. "Hey (Y/N), watch this," she bends her arms to a ninety-degree angle and then begins to swivel her hips like she's playing with a hula hoop. 

You can barely contain your laughter as you watch her dance and don't even notice that the music stopped, everyone turned toward her to catch her in the act. 

Yuta is holding his phone, presumably the one controlling the Bluetooth speakers that are hidden somewhere on the stage, trying not to laugh. "Neither of you know how to dance, do you?" 

"Hell no," you're wiping away a tear, watching Rhiannon' silly grin. 

"I don't know what you're talking about, but I hope Red Velvet has an opening cause I'm about to take the world by storm," she is hardly able to finish her joke before she also bursts out laughing, doubling over and holding her stomach.

"C'mere," Mark held out a hand to you, "let's all have some fun before we have to go." 

With a smile you approach your soulmate, pressing your scarred palms to his. A newer song you don't think you've heard yet starts playing over the speakers, Yuta smiling warmly in your direction. Rhiannon joins Donhgyuck and the boys slowly begin to teach you an easy dance, laughing and having fun. 

Time flew by and eventually they had to go backstage to get changed and have makeup done by the stylists. You and Rhiannon stuck around backstage for a bit, but eventually, you decided to go find your seats. You left your backpack in the stylist room with Mark, hoping you would remember it after the show. 

"Wait!" Mark caused you to stop in your tracks on the way out, turning towards him and meeting his eyes. "I have something for you." He stands up from the makeup chair he was perched in and dug around in a cardboard box in the corner of the room. He eventually comes up with an NCT127 light stick box. 

"You really didn't have to, I could have gone out to the merchandise line," you said sheepishly as Mark handed it to you with a grin.

"It's a gift," he retorted with a smile. "I wouldn't want you to be in that line long enough for you to miss any of the performances."

"Thank you, Mark, I'll wave it higher than everyone else." You looked over at the stylist. "Can I kiss him, please?"

She nodded. "We haven't done lips yet. Go ahead." 

Excitedly you lean forward to peck Mark on the lips. "I love you, see you soon," 

"I love you too, (Y/N)," Mark held your hand for a few seconds before he had to let you leave the room and return to his chair. 

Once you had taken your seat and prepared your light stick, the lights began to fade. Other fans were being let into the venue, and soon enough the concert would start. Rhiannon looked over at you with a grin, holding up a pair of earplugs. 

"Check your light stick box," she said. "If we learned anything from seeing BTS last year is that we need these, Donghyuck packed some for me. Maybe Mark did for yours."

Peering into your box, you noticed at the bottom that there was a pair of earplugs sitting there and a note in Mark's writing.

In case you forgot. Love, Mark

You smiled at the note fondly, placing it back in the box, closing it tightly. You slipped it underneath your chair, sitting down and watching the lights dim. You just finished putting the lightstick strap around your wrists, putting the earplugs in your pocket. 

Your phone buzzed as fans began to take their seats, and smiled when you read a text from Mark. 

Mark: I hope you're ready for the show tonight

You: I've been preparing myself since I bought the tickets

Mark: I wanted to ask you something before my phone gets confiscated

You: What do you need?

Rhiannon perched her chin on your shoulder and read the texts. "Ooh," she sang. "Does he sext you?" 

"No!" You quickly dispute. "I'm not sure what he's gonna ask." 

Mark: I spoke to my manager and the guys, since I leave for Vancouver tomorrow, I wanted to know if I could spend the night at your place

You: you would really be allowed to do that?

Mark: they made a special exception, I just wanted to know if you would be comfortable with it

You: of course I would be, you are more than welcome to stay with me 

"Ooooh! I hope they made that exception for Hyuckie!" Rhiannon exclaims, taking her head off your shoulder and reaching into her pocket for her phone. 

Mark: that makes me really happy, meet me in the VIP room after the show, I will bring your backpack 

You: okay, I love you, don't overdo it

Mark: I can handle anything life throws at me, dont worry :) love you too

It felt like as soon as you put your phone down, the concert started. Any concert you've ever been to has always managed to be the fastest few hours of your life. This one was no exception - you could feel your heart pound and your chest vibrate with the beat, eyes glued to the stage before you. 

You always had problems remembering everything that took place during any show. You knew every song and you sang until your throat went raw, danced with your lightstick until your arm was sore and rolled your eyes with a smile whenever Rhiannon screamed too loudly, too close to your ear. During the concert, you forgot about life outside. You forget about your problems, your exams, graduation, everything. 

Something you would never forget, though, was every time Mark looked at you. No matter how deep in concentration he was, every time he was on stage and close to you, he would smile. His face would be glistening with sweat, his chest would heave in deep breaths during a transition, but no matter what, he always managed to grin in your direction. 

Being so close to the stage and just being at any concert always gave you a special type of high, that filled your heart with music and happiness that you sometimes felt you couldn't experience. At the end, when the boys left the stage and the lights came back on, you sat down to finish soaking it all in. 

"Agh, I'm all sweaty," was the first thing Rhiannon said since everything was all over, and you couldn't help but laugh a little. 

"I wonder why," you muse sarcastically, looking up at her from your seat with a smile. 

She looked down at you and stuck her tongue out. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" She asked. 

Your eyes widened. "Yeah. Is Donghyuck going to meet you backstage?"

She nodded. "Mhm, I'll meet up with you two later. See you in a bit." 

You gave Rhiannon a quick hug before grabbing your lightstick box and attempting to move with the crowd exiting the arena. Some of the fans that catch a glimpse of you stare as you pass by- most likely noticed that you had a backstage pass lanyard around your neck. You try to avoid eye contact with them as best you can, slipping into the staircase that leads up to the VIP rooms. 

You reached the end of the hallway, gripping the doorknob and pushing it open. The curtain was still covering the window that looked over the arena, and the small coffee table was still pushed up against it, next to the bar stools. You slipped off your shoes and sat on the couch, making yourself comfortable. It would probably be a little while before Marked joined you, so you set down your lightstick box and curled up in the corner of the cushions.

The ringing in your ears slowly faded away as your mind wandered, drifting off into a light snooze. You feel comfortable and warm, the scent of Mark still was barely noticeable in the air around you. You smiled to yourself when you thought of what Mark reminded you of- a strong campfire with fresh s'mores and the sweet summer air that lingered just outside the radius of the fire's warmth.  

There was a soft clicking sound that followed the doorknob being turned. You barely perk up when Mark enters the room, clad in his Superhuman t-shirt and black jeans. It seems all of the sweat from his performances has been wiped away, but his face is still flushed. He slips your backpack off his back and gently sets it by the door. 

"Hey, sleepy," he whispers, approaching you and kneeling before you. He gently takes your hands, kissing the knuckles. "Did you have fun?"

You smile sleepily at him. "Yeah, I had a lot of fun. You don't look tired,"

Mark continued to smile at you. "Looks can be deceiving," he says. "I just have to put some things away and then we can go."

You perk up a bit as he stands, grabbing the blanket to put inside his own backpack. "Shouldn't we wait until everyone is gone?"

Mark shrugs. "We have to go back down to see the others, that should give us some extra time so that we don't get in a streetcar where we will be swarmed." 

You nod, yawning. "Okay, I trust you." 

Mark sat down beside you once he zipped up his backpack, giving you a tired smile. He looked down at his arms, idly running a finger against the scar of his arm. "I guess we will be seeing a lot of news about this soon."

You join his gaze and frown a little. "Do you think it will be bad?" You ask, chewing on your lip. 

"No, I don't think so. At least I hope. I like to think our fandom is mature enough," Mark takes your hand for a moment and squeezes it. "Shall we go?" 

You nod and unfurl yourself to stand up. You both put on your backpacks, you put on your shoes and then head out the door together. You return backstage to meet with everyone, feeling a little surreal that you can personally compliment them on their performances. When you hug each member one last time, you barely catch yourself indulging in their scents, all unique and sweet in their own way. Rhiannon is watching you with a knowing smirk as you do, and as you hug Jungwoo you manage to stick your tongue out at her. 

It felt strange but good to go home that night with Mark. It was warm and a little lonely outside compared to how it was inside the venue during the event, but it was a nice change after being inside with a few thousand screaming people. The streetcar ride and the walk back were pleasant, making idle conversation about the concert as Rhiannon and Donghyuck walked along with you. 

Once you arrive home, everyone stumbles tiredly inside. You bring Mark's backpack into your room, and all of you play rock-paper-scissors to determine who gets to use the bathroom in order. Rhiannon, Donghyuck and Mark all destroyed you in the game, so you hang back in the kitchen to make some sleepy time tea while you waited. 

You nearly fell asleep standing in the kitchen and waiting for your kettle to finish heating up the water. Just as you're finishing preparing everyone's tea, Mark emerges from the bathroom clad in soft pyjamas and sporting freshly dried hair. 

"Is that for me?" He asked, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

You nod at him. "If you could bring the other mugs to Rhiannon and Donghyuck too, Rhi's is the purple mug and the blue one is Donghyuck's. I'm going to go freshen up." 

Mark nods at you with a smile. Briefly holding your hand as you make your way into the bathroom. You shower quickly, not bothering to pamper yourself. Once you get out, you dry your hair thoroughly with a towel, sighing at the feeling of massaging your scalp. 

Once you exit the bathroom, clad in your own pyjamas, you see that Mark is still in the kitchen, clutching his mug of tea. 

"Feel better?" He asks, taking a quick sip.

"Mm," you answer, "I'm just about ready to pass out," 

"I made you a mug of tea if you want it. Half-full." Mark smiles when you gently return his earlier cheek kiss. 

You reach forward and grab the warm Dragon Ball Z mug to take a few quick mouthfuls of perfect tea. "Thank you," you say, "I had a really great day today." 

"Me too," Mark grins sleepily, "but I'm ready to sleep."

"You and me both." You place your mug in the sink. Mark follows suit, gently taking your hand as you lead him to your room. When you pass the living room you notice it's empty, so you assume Rhiannon and Donghyuck have already both gone to sleep. 

Once you open the door to your room, you feel so much more relaxed and comfortable. You beckon Mark in, sheepishly smiling as you begin to relocate your mountain of stuffed animals. There's not much light since you hadn't turned any on, but a streak of moonlight is seeping in through your curtains, enough that some things in your room are clear to see.

"Your room is very cosy," he compliments, taking a seat on the edge of your bed and running his hand along the fabric. 

"I spend a lot of time here, so I like to make it as comfortable as possible,"

Mark nods with a small smile. "Oh, I almost forgot."

"Forgot what?" You watch him curiously as he stands and moves to his backpack, unzipping it and rummaging for a few seconds before pulling out the fuzzy polar bear plush. 

"This belongs to you," he says, tucking it under the covers before taking his seat again. "We should keep him comfy."

You grin at him, "thank you for not thinking I'm weird for asking about it,"

He shakes his head, "anything to help while I'm gone," he comments, trailing off as he continues to observe the contents of your room, and you blush once you realize Mark has spotted some photo cards stuck onto the edge of the shelf above your computer desk. 

"I see you have everyone here," he comments with a smile. "Including…"

"Day6," you answer sheepishly, inviting yourself under the covers. "Come cuddle?" 

Mark chuckles lightly and complies. He pulls back his side of the covers and slides in, immediately moving to drape an arm over your side. He blinks slowly, smiling warmly as his eyes search your face. 

You bring a hand up to lightly run your hand through his hair, massaging his scalp gently. He closes his eyes and hums with contentment.

"I love you," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

"I love you, too." You manage to drift off easily that night, content to sleep in Mark's arms.

[xofanfics]

Until Tomorrow

Genre: angst, fluff, dad!Minghao, husband!Minghao

Pairing: Reader x Minghao

Word Count: 4.2k

*REQUESTED*

Summary: When Minghao tells his parents his plans of marrying you, his mother rejects it and his father says nothing. 

When he laid his eyes on the ring, he was happier than ever. It was perfect for you and he knew you’d love it. He smiled widely as he took out his credit card and paid for it. He carried it in the blue velvet box as he went home, carrying his hopes, dreams, and his future in his pocket.

On his way there, he imagined the proposal and what it would be like. He pictured how wide your smile would be and how you’d start tearing up because you were so happy that you couldn’t believe that it was happening. He’d been with you for the past two years and he couldn’t imagine a life without you. You’d mentioned marriage here and there and the whole time he was making mental notes of all the small details you mentioned: the ring, the dress, and so on. Minghao had been saving a lot of money and he was almost ready to give you a proposal you’d never forget.

He walked into the house, his nose filled with the smell of his mom’s cooking. “I’m home,” he said, taking off his shoes and placing them neatly on the mat.

“Dinner is almost ready,” she called upon hearing the sound of her son’s voice. “Can you set the table?”

He nodded. “Sure.” He took the small bowls from the cabinet, spooning rice from the rice cooker. As he did, his father came into the room and sat at the table. “Hi, Dad.”

“How was your day?”

“Good. I had a few photoshoots,” he said.

His father nodded. Like most parents, his didn’t exactly approve of his decision to be a photographer. They’d wanted him to be like everyone else and get a degree in finance or business but it wasn’t in him to do that sort of thing. He was creative; he wanted to create things. In high school, he spent his time on the dance team and taking pictures with the camera his mother got him for his birthday. Instead of a business degree, he got one in photography and he’d never been happier. At first his parents wondered how he’d make money like that but he was doing just fine. He’d proved them wrong but they still made snide remarks about his choice of career here and there.

In a moment, the three of you were seated and eating dinner at the table. Minghao cleared his throat. “I’m planning on proposing to Y/N.”

The room was silent. He wasn’t sure of what his father’s opinion on you was; he never seemed to have a problem with his dating you. His mother, however, never liked you. After a short silence his mother said, “Why?”

“Because I love her and because she treats me well.”

“Isn’t she still in school? Why has she been in school so much longer when you’re the same age? She’s not a hard worker and she doesn’t come from a good family. Her mother threw her away. Why should you marry someone like that?”

“She’s been paying for college herself! And she works part-time,” Minghao argued. “And so what if she doesn’t come from a good family? Why does growing up in a good family matter? She’s a good person and she’s smart, mom.”

To be honest, you were abandoned by your mother when you were three and you ended up in an orphanage. From what you told him, you had very vague memories of your mother. Just of her face, you’d said. You grew up in an orphanage and never got adopted due to the stigma of adoption in China. You had a hard life and you never really had a family. But none of that mattered to him because he wanted to become your family. He wanted to be your husband and father of your children, once you were ready to take that step.

“You should marry someone that comes from a good family. Your wife should come from a good family with a good background. Her mother was probably on drugs or something... ”

“Why should she be discriminated against because of choices her mother made? She’s a completely different person and she’s never once touched drugs.”

“How would you know?” his mother shouted across the table. “She’s probably taking drugs between work and school. That’s why she hasn’t graduated and she’ll never be a nurse like she says. She’ll end up just like trash!”

“Don’t you dare call her that!” Minghao yelled back. His mother had crossed a line. He was so angry he could explode. And what was worse is that his father just sat there, looking down at the table and saying absolutely nothing. He hated that his father didn’t even back him up or prevent his mother from saying such cruel things.

That night, Minghao packed his things and never looked back once. From that point on, he decided that he didn’t have a family. * Minghao felt his hand being tugged in the middle of the night and thought that he must be dreaming. But he felt the tug again, harder this time. His eyes slowly fluttered open and he found his daughter standing so close to his face that he jumped. When he realized that it was just his baby.

“Daddy?” she called in her small, sleepy voice.

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he sat up with a yawn. “Yes, baby? Did you have a nightmare?”

She stood, holding her small teddy bear that he bought for her birthday a few months ago. Then she shook her head. “Can I have water?”

He looked at the bedside table next to the bed and, to his dismay, he didn’t find the glass of water he usually kept by the bed. He dragged himself out of bed and held his daughter’s hand as they walked into the kitchen. She waited next to the refrigerator patiently as he went into the refrigerator and poured water into her favorite purple cup. He stood next to her, handing her her cup. She said, “Thank you.”

While she took small sips from her cup, he poured himself a glass as well. They drank their water in silence together and, when Biyu was finished, she stood on her tiptoes to put the cup in the sink.

“All done?” asked Minghao, putting his cup in the sink, too.

Biyu nodded, holding onto her father’s hand again. “I’m sleepy.”

“Let’s go to the bathroom first, okay?” The last thing he needed was an accident as the night went on. He waited for her in the bathroom as she sat on the toilet and helped her clean up when she was done. After she washed her hands, Minghao had started toward her room expecting her to be behind him but, apparently, Biyu had other plans.

“Biyu, where are you going?”

She walked in the opposite direction and into her bedroom and into the room her parents slept in. She crawled into the bed next to you and made herself comfortable under the blanket. She patted the bed, motioning for Minghao to get in the bed beside her. He smiled to himself and lay down next to her.

With all the movement in the bed, you rolled over and opened your eyes to find your daughter between you and your husband. You smiled. “You couldn’t sleep?”

Biyu shook her head. “Wanna sleep with mommy and daddy.”

Minghao kissed Biyu’s cheek before kissing your lips. The three of you cuddled. Biyu, of course, snuggled closest to her dad and you fell asleep again, with Minghao’s fingers intertwined with yours. Small moments like this, made being a father worth more than a million words. * The week came and went. It was a Friday afternoon and you ended up getting off of work a little early. You went inside of Biyu’s school to pick her up. The teachers were a bit surprised to see you an hour early but started preparing Biyu to go home. Her head popped up from the table and over to the door. Her face lit up upon seeing you and ran over despite her teacher’s call to clean up. You laughed as Biyu ran into your arms.

You kneeled down to meet her at eye level. Her eyes glimmered with excitement and joy, bringing a smile to her face. “Biyu, you have to clean up first. Listen to your teacher so we can go to the supermarket and make something yummy for dinner.”

With a pout, Biyu quickly cleaned up her mess and got her coat. She bid her friends and teachers goodbye before leaving in your hand.

“Where’s daddy?” she asked, as you waited at the bus stop.

“He’s working,” you answered. “We’ll see him at home, okay?” Your husband had a photoshoot that was running a bit later than he anticipated. Biyu frowned, a bit disappointed to find that her dad wasn’t going to be joining you at the supermarket.

It was Minghao’s birthday and you were planning on making dinner. You’d made dumplings the previous night and froze them so that they’d be ready for today. You planned on making that and some stir fry.

The trip to the supermarket was quick; You got the things you needed while pushing your four year old in the shopping cart. To your surprise, she didn’t complain too much after she reached her two snack limit. Biyu was sometimes a picky eater but she loved snacks, so much that sometimes you had to hide them where she couldn’t reach or wouldn’t find them. For four years old, she could be a little sneaky. * You watched Biyu color at the coffee table while you cooked. She’d looked a little like you when she was first born but something happened and she ended up looking mostly like Minghao. While the dumplings boiled in the pot on the stove, you plopped down next to your daughter. You said, “What are you drawing?”

“I’m drawing me and daddy,” she said.

“What about me? I’m not in the picture,” you said, laughing.

“Nope,” she said. “Only me and daddy!”

She continued coloring and you pat her head. You carried her for nine months, pushed her out, and nursed her and all but she was still a daddy’s girl. You chuckled to yourself.

And, right on time, Minghao walked through the door. Biyu’s eyes lit up and your child scrambled to her feet, nearly tripping over them in the process. She shouted, “Daddy!”

He’d barely had a chance to take his coat off before he was tackled by his daughter. He scooped her up in his arms. “I’m back! Sorry I’m late, my pretty girl.” You came over to him and he planted a kiss on your lips. “Hey baby.” He sniffed the air. “Wow, it smells so good.”

“Mommy made dumplings!” she said as the timer went off.

You smiled and headed into the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready, babe.”

He smiled and put Biyu down. “Let’s help mommy set the table, okay?”

Biyu said, “I made you a present,” and ran over the coffee table. She showed him the picture she’d drawn and colored. “It’s me and you.”

Minghao kneeled down next to her and admired the picture. “It’s so pretty. Thank you. What about mommy? Are you gonna draw mommy too?”

As you sat the dishes on the table, you said, “She basically said I couldn’t be in it.” Biyu laughed loudly and her dad joined in her laughter. “Come on silly, let’s eat.”

Minghao sat Biyu down at the table and put his phone down. “I wanna show you some of the shots I took today. I shot engagement photos as the sun was setting.” As he went to go get his camera from his backpack, his phone started vibrating on the table.

You glanced at it and saw that it was an unknown number. “Your phone’s ringing.”

He continued digging through his bag for the camera. “Who is it?”

“I don’t know. The number isn’t saved.”

By the time he got to the table, the phone had stopped ringing. With raised eyebrows, he picked up the phone and put the camera down with his other hand. “I don’t know this number.” He cleared his throat and sat down across from you.

Part of you thought it was a little strange that he didn’t answer and that he wasn’t at least curious about the unknown number. The insecure part of your brain was racked with thoughts of it possibly being another woman calling your husband’s phone. But you shook that thought away. Minghao loved you and you had no reason to question it.

The three of you started eating and the phone started vibrating on the table again. Minghao reached over and silenced the phone before he returned to the dumplings. “Wow,” he said, smiling at you. “It’s delicious. When did you learn how to make such good dumplings?”

“The internet,” you said, laughing. “And Biyu helped me mix everything together, right?”

She nodded and shoved a whole dumpling in her mouth. Minghao laughed. “Biyu, you shouldn’t stuff the whole thing in your mouth. You can get hurt like that.”

Biyu smirked, mouth full, and looked over at his phone which started vibrating again. “Your phone, daddy.”

Minghao sighed, annoyed that the stupid phone was interrupting his birthday dinner with his family. He picked up the phone and put it to his ear, fed up. “Hello?”

“Minghao, it’s your dad.” Minghao’s eyes widened and his mouth suddenly felt dry, to the point where he couldn’t find words to speak. “I know it’s been a long time but I got your phone number from your friend Tao. He came to the store last week…”

“Oh…”

“I don’t know how to say this but your mom isn’t doing well. She has heart disease and,” he said, clearing his throat, “she doesn’t have much time left…”

Minghao was shocked. He hadn’t heard from his parents in almost six years. When he left home, he left for good. He never looked back once. He stayed at a hotel for those next few days, unable to face you. When he felt himself falling into depression, he thought of you and pulled himself out of that hole before he fell in too deeply. He’d been losing sight of what was important to him, the reason he left home in the first place: you. That night, he took you out for dinner at your favorite restaurant and walked through a park after eating. He got on one knee and proposed to you, just the way he planned. The look on your face was priceless and you threw your arms around him, the impact almost knocking him over.

The two of you put together your money and started renting an apartment together. A few months later, you were married. And a couple months after that, you found out that you were pregnant with a baby girl. He’d never been happier. You and Biyu were his family and until now, it was all that mattered.

His heart dropped when his dad told him about his mother’s condition. Though he’d cut them out of his life, it still hurt. Even if she hurt him, she was his mother. No matter what, she was the person who gave birth to him and raised him. He loved his mother and they’d had no problems until that day. She’d always made unnecessary comments about you but she’d never been completely out of line like that day. He’d let it slide when his mother made comments about you still being in school and working part time. But she crossed the line that day and he wasn’t going to sit there and take it anymore.

“I’ll come tomorrow…” * Minghao was on a train to his hometown after not having spoken to his parents in over six years. To be honest, he felt a little nervous and a little guilty for ending things the way he did. But then he remembered how his mother treated him that day and the guilt melted away like ice on a hot day. You squeezed his hand, knowing that he was feeling a bit stressed out. He looked over at you and smiled.

“Thank you for coming,” he said.

“Of course,” you said. “I’m here for you babe. I think that it’s good that your dad called. Maybe talking to your mom can give you some closure.” At this point, you knew what had happened and when he told you, it hurt. But if anything, it gave you the motivation to become a nurse just like you said. And you were. You were a nurse in the pediatrics department and a damn good one at that.

He nodded, looking down in his arms at his sleeping daughter. He let out a sigh and in a few minutes, the train had arrived. Biyu, not quite ready to walk on her own, was carried by Minghao. It had been so long since he’d been back to his hometown but he noticed the small changes around him as the three of them rode in a taxi to the hospital.

Minghao never thought about it but he never really discussed his parents with Biyu. He’d give her vague answers and tell her that they lived far away. As they walked inside the hospital, he mentally prepared himself. He gave her name at the front desk and the receptionist prompted him to go up to the eighth floor.

Minghao had been quiet and you knew that he was feeling a little stressed and anxious about all of this. He’d heard that his mother was dying. Whether he had bad feelings toward her or not, it was a stressful situation to be in. You sat Biyu in a seat in the waiting area. Minghao got on one knee, meeting her at eye level. She beamed at him and he smiled back at her. “I’m going to leave for a few minutes, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“You’re going to see your mommy, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah. She’s not feeling so well.”

“Can I meet her?”

“Maybe if she’s feeling better.”

“Okay.”

“Wait here with mommy.”

You gave him a kiss before he left in search of his mother’s hospital room. He knocked on the door and went inside. He stood in the doorway for a moment. His mother had aged, from what he could see. Her face had more defined wrinkles and she had more grey hairs than he remembered. Minghao closed the door and sat on the chair across from the room. He’d rehearsed what he wanted to say in his head a million times before coming but he couldn’t find the words anymore.

She cleared her throat. “I didn’t think you’d come.” An awkward silence hung in the air. He didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry for what I said back then...about Y/N.” He nodded, grateful for at least an apology and acknowledgement that she did something wrong. “I shouldn’t have said those things. I’ve spent this whole time thinking about it. When you left that day, I thought you’d come back. Days went by, then months, years…”

“I waited six years for an apology...and even now, it feels strange,” he said. “It hurt, mom. It hurt me so much to know that you weren’t supportive of me. You supported me through college even though I didn’t get a business degree. You bought me my first camera because you knew it would make me happy even though you wished I was doing something else instead. You knew I wanted to be independent and buy it myself but you bought it for me anyway and told me to put the money in my savings instead. So when I told you I wanted to marry Y/N, it made me upset because it was the first thing in my life you were so unsupportive of.”

“I know,” she said, looking down. “This doesn’t justify anything but I wanted the best for you. I tried to discourage you from being with her. I thought she lacked ambition and motivation. I didn’t think she’d finish school and—”

“She finished school a couple months later,” he said, interrupting her. “She graduated from nursing school and she became a pediatric nurse—she’s one of the best in her hospital.”

“Are you happy?” she asked.

He nodded. “Of course. We got married and life is good. We live in Shenzhen and I’m saving up to buy a photography studio to use for my shoots.”

The nervous expression on her face faded into a smile. “I’m glad.”

“There’s someone I want you to meet. I’ll be right back.” He left the room for a moment and headed toward the waiting area where he left his family. When he came around the corner, he saw you reading a book with Biyu. He walked toward you with a smile. You looked up, then Biyu.

You said, “Everything okay?”

Minghao nodded and held out his hand toward Biyu. “Do you wanna meet your grandma?” Biyu didn’t answer and got up to grab his hand. You gave him a nod and watched them disappear around the corner again.

Minghao pushed the door open and walked in, with Biyu clinging to him. His mother’s eyes lit up at the sight of her. She lifted her hand to wave. “Don’t be rude,” he said, looking down at her. “Say hi.”

“Hi,” Biyu said, in a low voice.

“What’s your name?”

“Biyu.”

“That’s pretty. Biyu means jasper, you know. It’s a pretty red stone.”

Biyu smiled and walked closer to the hospital bed. She looked up at her with big, curious eyes. “Are you sick?”

“A little bit,” his mother said, smiling. “But I think I’m starting to feel a little better.”

Biyu ended up taking over the conversation. She asked her grandma a bunch of questions about where she lives, what her house looks like, if she has pets, and about her grandpa. It was as if he wasn’t even there.

Biyu put her finger on her chin. “Do you know my mommy?”

She nodded and then turned to her son. “Is it okay if I talk to her?”

Minghao stood. “I’ll ask her if she’s okay with it.” He took out his phone to text you: She wants to talk to you. I think she wants to apologize to you.

You wrote back, Sure. Room 831A, right?

You never had a relationship with Minghao’s mom. He rarely talked about her when they were dating back then and eventually when he told you everything, you found out why. You were hurt, at first. But then Minghao reminded you that he didn’t care who didn’t approve or who liked it, that you were the person he wanted to be with no matter what. And that was enough for you. For the past six years, he didn’t talk much about his parents. It was always casual mentions like “My mom used to make tofu all the time when I was a kid” or “Biyu reminds me of my dad.” It was never more than that and now that you thought about it, he never really addressed those feelings.

You knocked on the door and Minghao opened it. Your eyes landed on your mother-in-law and Biyu who had been chatting away before you came in. She said, “Mommy, meet grandma.”

You smiled and Minghao came over to Biyu. “Let’s go see what snacks are in the vending machine, okay?” There was no reason for Minghao to feel nervous but he did. He didn’t know what his mother was going to say and he felt a little vulnerable not knowing. He would’ve stayed but Biyu was too young to understand and he didn’t want one of her final memories of her being something this heavy.

You sat down in the chair after her husband and daughter left. The first thing your mother in law said was, “I heard you’re a pediatric nurse now...Congratulations.”

To be honest, you didn’t feel any resentment toward her. Back then you felt a little weird when Minghao confessed everything but you didn’t hate her. You ended up doing well despite what she thought. And after that you began to care less and less about what people thought about you. You started to care less about the assumptions that people made. You were doing so well. You were living in a nice apartment, you had a husband and daughter that loved you, and you and Minghao were saving up money to buy an apartment and a photography studio.

“Thank you,” you said.

“I wanted to apologize to you directly,” she said. “I judged you before I got to know you and I’m sorry for not taking the time to know you first. I should’ve invited you for dinner and taught you how to make his favorite foods. As a parent I wanted the best for him but I wasn’t keeping his feelings in my thoughts.”

“Thank you for apologizing.” You cleared your throat. “I don’t hate you. I never have. We didn’t have a chance to get to know each other better and maybe we can now. ”

“I don’t have much time left and I’d like to fill the rest of my life with good memories.”

“I’d like that.”

A few minutes later, Minghao and Biyu came back. Biyu was satisfied with her snacks and she sat on the hospital bed. She continued to ask a million questions and, eventually, Minghao’s dad came. The five of you crowded in the hospital room for hours. You talked, laughed, and got to know each other. Until the end, like his mother said, you’d fill your lives with good memories.

[stevenbasic]

“Oooo look at that one! And ahahah that one!” she sang, as we sat next to one another on the empty beach, “They look the same! You’re really just as good as any of the photographers I used to work with!”

“Oh, I don’t know…” I replied, trying to keep the silly delight I was feeling, being lauded by Melissa, out of my voice, “i-it’s probably just these better cameras, on these phones, these days…”

“No, no, you’re really good!!” she flattered, scooching herself closer to me. We had been sitting like this, next to one another on her towel in the sand, all alone, for a while now. We were going through the pictures of the day, the little “modeling shoot” she’d asked me to do for her, this afternoon after our morning classes at the conference. She was flipping through them on my phone - which she insisted we use - in trying to duplicate some of the shots she’d done at a photoshoot on this same exact beach, this little nature reserve, six or so years ago. Or was it two, or three? I had trouble pinning her down, on that one. Anyway, she wanted to put the pictures up on Instagram, she said, for a joke. Melissa had tossed the gauzy tapestry of her sarong over our heads, to keep us shielded from the late afternoon sun and able to more easily see the pictures on my phone's meager screen. The moment, thus, was intimate, the space between us tight...

“C’mon…” I deferred. It was disconcerting, how excited I was by her plaudits, how eager I was for her praise, even if it was just for my photography skills. We had been so friendly, here, all alone on our basically private beach over these past few hours. With no one else around, I had no airs to keep up, no appearances to maintain, and my guard had come down without a fight. I had allowed myself to both relax and give in too easily and too fully to the temptations of her flirty friendship. “I’m no photographer, really…you’re obviously just a really good model...”

“Ahhh, I was never really a ‘model’,” she deferred, “just a girl with the boobs some energy drink company wanted in their ads. But thank you...” She giggled, and nudged me with her bare shoulder. “...and you should learn how to take a compliment,” she told me. 

My heart fluttered.

I also can’t begin to tell you how fucking turned on I was. I’d just spent the better part of the afternoon following her around as she posed here, posed there, once in a while disappearing behind boulders or bushes to change in and out of multiple swimsuits for this, our ersatz modeling session, trying to duplicate the last time she was here. “Before” pictures stored on her phone, “After” now on mine…

I must have looked like an overeager simp, a wide-eyed supplicant, when she - with demure giggles - had initially peeled off her beach dress to reveal her first bikini, a little, overmatched yellow thing, and asked me to start snapping. 

She had framed it as a chance to see if she still “had it”, now that she wasn’t nineteen years old. Oh, she had it, I’d quickly and convincingly been shown, and in spades. In fact, the afternoon quickly became a study in how much bigger her tits had grown over the last few years, how much more Melissa there was everywhere, what kind of womanly body she was - if she's to be believed, god help me - still growing into. Our first looks, comparisons of the previous shots to today’s, were ample demonstration of that - it actually made her laugh: “Omigod I look huge in that one!!” or “I’m like twice the size I was then!!”  To her it was a joke but in all honesty it actually was quite dramatic, sitting here with her now, looking at these pictures.

It was also quite dramatic how soft her skin felt. 

She was leaned into me, under the canopy of her sarong, the skin and supple flesh of her bare left arm, shoulder, hip, thigh pressed abundantly against my sallow side. The day had cooled as evening approached, and her warmth was pleasant, the scent of her beach-sweetened body saturating our little space with its luxurious richness. My view - even notwithstanding the bikini pics - was equally enthralling. She had changed, after our shoot was done, back into her burgundy suit, because I had told her - when asked, pressed on the matter - that it was “my favorite”. So now our private world under the shade and shelter of her skirt was filled with her lap, her hair, her big, soft breasts in her string bikini. Sunlight dappled in, shadows emphasizing everything. 

I was so fucking hard. 

“I, uh, did take photography in college…” I conceded, bathing still in her praises and painfully aware of my erection, which was nearly a third person in our little makeshift tent. 

“Seeee??” she squealed, bumping me with her shapely hip, “I knew it! You were so good, too, making me feel comfortable, like a real professional.” She flipped to another photo, nonchalantly zoomed in on a little detail...

“How do I always seem to manage to get sand on my boob..?” she asked, more to herself in an aside. If she heard me chuckle I’m lucky; I was worried it sounded like a whine.

“It is a little weird traipsing around in front of your boss in a bikini,” she said, now casually flipping to the next picture, “but you were such a gentleman.”

Ha - ‘gentleman’. If only she knew the battle I’d been fighting all afternoon, trying to keep my composure, trying to look at ease as she giggled and bounced and posed, rolling in the sand, playing in the surf, smiling - or seething - for the camera.

 I saw sides of Melissa I’d only seen in the countless images of her I’d surreptitiously collected on my pc at work, from her Instagram, ones I’d scoured from the net.  But here, in person, in the flesh, she looked bigger and more voluptuous than ever, and it had been all I could do to keep from outright groaning at times, when she would emerge from behind a bush, or a boulder on the beach, in a new bikini or one-piece. I might be kidding myself but I hope I made it look like I was keeping my cool and snapped pic after glorious pic. I was doing the best I could but in the end I knew I was not made for this; my heart is too weak and I was honestly afraid I might pass out.

And these photos are all on my phone, I thought to myself, in a lurid anticipation.

“Well, you really look beautiful, in all of them,” I said, nodding but immediately knowing I’d said someth-

“Oh my god thank you!!” Melissa gushed, turning my way in our little shelter and dropping the phone, forgotten, onto our towel. “You are so nice, so great..!”

My heart nearly stopped as I looked at her, our faces inches away. Eyes made up, makeup heavy and dramatic for the camera. Her hair a huge soft mess of deep brown abundance, her dimpled smile and perfect cheekbones riveting and...

Fuck. She is so fucking gorgeous. 

“Uh…” 

She inched in closer.

Omigod is she going to..?

“I could just kiss you right now!” she laughed, her smile growing wide and her eyes dancing, playing over my face and then flashing as she read my reaction, the moment between us suddenly wired, charged. 

I can’t let this explode, I can’t I can’t I c-

“I-it’s true…” I mumbled, dropping my gaze away from hers back to the phone, laying beneath her thighs. I knew I should stop, stop. “I m-mean...the pictures came out g-great…”

Looking down, my eyes could not help but be drawn to her great breast, tanned and huge and swollen in her taut burgundy bikini, stray grains of sand the only imperfection on the smooth expanse of its skin. She was for the moment quiet, and breathing. Oh god I just stared. 

“D-Doctor J..?” she finally began, her voice dropping, cracking, sounding - for the first time - like she was unsure of something, “Do you like spending time with me?”

Oh jesus.

“Y-y-yes, of course,” I replied, unsure of what to do. 

“Okay...okay,” she continued, her voice still shaky. She was obviously trying to gather herself. “I was worried that I was maybe being too...pushy, that maybe you didn’t really want…”

Her words trailed off, and I could feel her looking at me, watching my face. I hoped to god she couldn’t tell that I was just staring at the swell of her big left breast, that rather she took the downturn of my gaze as just an inability to hold hers. 

“N-no, really, it’s...fun. Y-you’re fun,” I said, dumbly, too meek of course to tell her that every moment with her had been like a fantasy come true, that I would kill to spend every last second of mine just staring at her, ogling her, my only air the tanning oil and perfume from her skin of this moment right now. 

I had to hold my tongue, before saying anything else stupid. 

“We do have fun together, don’t we?” she continued, her voice dropping, familiar, “it’s been great, down here, watching you relax.” The slow, rhythmic burgeoning of her chest, how each of her strong breaths inflated her breasts into the tautness of her swimsuit, soft flesh bulging against its confines, had me hypnotized. “I like seeing you loosen up, enjoy yourself. I like seeing you have fun. I like helping you do that. In fact...I guess I should tell you. I have a little surprise for you…” she said. 

“A...a surprise?” I asked, witless at this point, eased into a tranquility of sorts by the closeness of her body, by her calm, even voice.

“MmHmm...a surprise,” she answered, gentle giggles sending jiggles through her boobs, “you lucky boy, you get another two days down here. You needed a break, you needed to relax, so I had Randi change flights for us, get another couple days away, another two days of vacation…”

“T-t-two days?” I asked, suddenly confused. I was going to...what? Be away another two days from the office? But the conference would be over, everyone else long gone. Except...wait. “Y-you too?” I asked, eyes up to meet hers for the moment, “You’re staying too?”

“Of course…” she purred, watching my eyes drop again, seeing my anxiety quickly assuaged, “If that’s alright? We can stay longer, just you and me. So we can relax, maybe talk about some of the stuff I learned, changes we can make in the office. Is that okay?”

“Uhhh…” I began, as the complications started to rise in my head. There were patients to be seen, things to do, and then there was- 

“I already okayed it with Sheryl,” she answered, as if reading my thoughts, “And we moved your patients. We took care of everything. It’ll all be fine, it’ll be so nice…”

“Y-yeah…” I replied, apparently agreeing to all this. Two more days? Just with Melissa? With Melissa, the beach, and her...her...

”Good..!” she chirped, jiggles again through her chest, “because I wayyyy overpacked. I have so many outfits I haven’t been able to wear yet...” Casually, she brushed a few grains of sand off her left breast, sending more seismic ripples through her tit. “And now I get to wear them just... for... you!”

She booped me on the nose.

She booped me on the nose?

<giggle!>

I looked back up at her for a second, then down again, my eyes once more drawn helplessly back, surreptitiously askance, by the gravity of her breast. My view settled; I’d never seen those little freckles before, emerging from her tan.

“Do you want to look at any more pictures?” she asked, softly, obligingly. My phone, with our photoshoot, laid forgotten under her.

“n-n-no...thank you...” I squeaked, eyes now absolutely plastered on her breasts. Somehow I still held onto the hope that she didn’t realize I was all but outright gawping at her tits. Her cleavage was incredible, her big breasts squashed just enough between her arms to make them swell voluptuously together. I imagined, right then and there, what it must be like to slip in between them, slide into there, disappear, live in there, lost in her abundance...

”So we’ll leave late on Sunday morning, instead of early Friday,” she began again, satisfied, “Randi moved our flight to Sunday morning at 11:15. We’ll get a taxi from the lobby at nine, so you’ll need to be packed by…”

She paused.

“Dr J?” she asked, “Were you listening to me?”

”w-w-what?” I stammered, as my gaze shot back up.

”I said...were you listening to me?” Her eyes bore into mine, sternly.

”y-yeah...I was listening?” I felt like a schoolchild, caught daydreaming in class by his teacher. His huge, supermodel teacher with the ginormous tits.

“Really? You were listening?” Melissa retorted, the smile cracking her cheeks disbelieving me already, “Or were you just lost in my boobs?” 

Suddenly, she tossed her sarong, our shelter from the sun aside. My eyes were assaulted by the late afternoon sun; I squinted, shied back. Aside me, she sat up straighter. 

!!!

I was gaping, speechless as Melissa looked down at me, brow arched in already-final judgement. “Hmmm?” she hmmmd, “Were you? Anything to say?”

My mouth was open, my jaw slack, but I had no words. 

Firmly, she trapped my chin in her hand and - looking me straight in the eye, began to nod my head for me. “ ‘Yes...yes I was Melissa…’” she said, dropping her voice two octaves and moving my jaw like a marionette dummy, speaking for me, imitating me with the voice of a doofus, “‘I was looking at your boobs…’ ”

“N-No! Really I w-w-wasn’t…!” I pleaded, as she already began to laugh, releasing my chin. I was flushing hard, my heart and stomach having dropped themselves onto the sand, out of my body. “Please, Melissa, I was just-“

“Haha omigod  don’t be embarrassed! I’m joking!” she laughed, reaching her hands behind her to gather her hair - and of course casually present her magnificent chest, “I know they’re totally a distraction. Kinda hard to ignore.” My eyes flitted between her face - keeping eye contact - and her chest - trying not to ogle. What did she want me to do?!? “And you’ve been such a gentleman, doing your best not to, like, stare all afternoon.”

Oh, if she only knew...

“uh no, I uh…” Holy shit this was terribly humiliating.

”Shh it’s okay, you’ve been a good boy, you’ve earned it, taking all these pictures for me...,” she laughed, tossing her hair out again, in a voluminous wave behind her back, “stare all you want..!”

“oh my god…” I groaned, writhing in silent humiliation, overwhelmed by the indignity of the moment, and trying to look anywhere but at her chest.

To that, she just laughed. “Oh shush,” she insisted, “We both know you’re married, you and I both respect that.” She reached out to push a stray lock of hair, windswept, off my forehead. “But I know you’re just a man, and they’re boobs. It’s just a natural impulse.” She smiled at me, munificently. “So it’s okay, really…it happens all the time.”

“B-b-b-but, Melissa…” I began, stammering. I needed to...I dunno! Tell her I was...better than that! 

“Are you just not used to being with girls in bikinis, is that it?” she asked

“Uhhhh…” what?? “M-maybe…?” I answered, my voice trailing off. 

”Omigod look how embarrassed you are!” she cooed, “That's sooo cute!”

”No, r-really, M-Melissa, I, uhhhh…”

”Shhhhhh...it’s okay, really, I’m used to it” she said, her voice reaching out to soothe me, her eyes drawing me to her in their own embrace, “You don’t have to be a gentleman all the time…”

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

I had a lot of help on this one, from readers here at tumblr to my normal supercharged band of miscreants (DB20, Beetle, Antares). And huge props out to the morphers whose original images I used - MagicGrowthHormone, Stella5945 and @iphotoshopu​..I hope I'm not missing anyone.

[smilebouquet]

somewhere to go, someone to love

my secret santa gift (@ducktalessecretsanta2020) for @kvanderquack!! i’m sorry for tagging again after i already sent my gift via dm-

also on ao3!!

––––––––––

For as long as Lena lived (all fifteen years), she’d always been alone. She was born alone on the heights of Mount Vesuvius, from the remnants of her Aunt Magica’s shadow. She travelled to Duckburg alone, with no one to keep her company other than the voices in her head and the harsh whispering of her shadow. She bore the brunt of Magica’s lashings and whining alone, hurt and angry and bitter.

A happy family felt like such a foreign concept to her. Magica was always her one and only kin, the only person who had a connection to her. And she hated every second of it. If having just one aunt was so exhausting, imagine having two aunts. Imagine three. Criticizing your every move. Yelling at you for screwing up. Demanding nothing but obedience and respect and returning none of it. 

Lena didn’t think she would be able to take it. Family just didn’t sound like something she’d like.

That’s what she thought, anyway, until the Sabrewings took her in.

––––––––––

1.

Lena can’t sleep.

Or to be exact, she can’t sleep peacefully. Ever since she came back to the land of the living, she’s been having dreams. Dreams where she found herself running from her. Into the woods, where the screeching of bats rang in the air, and the ground was muddy and made each consecutive step heavy. Or within a mansion suspiciously similar to Scrooge’s, her voice bouncing off the walls and getting closer and closer until they were literally screaming into her ears. She could do nothing but run.

She never dared to look back, but Lena always managed to glimpse her in the corner of her eye. The swish of a velvety black cape. A gloved hand, reaching out to snatch her. A flash of purple magic. 

Lena always manages to wake up before Magica could grab her and do god-knows-what. She would always be grateful for the fact that she awoke easily. But every dream ended in To Be Continued — never The End — and Lena didn’t want to know what The End would look like, because she has the sinking feeling that it won’t be a Happily Ever After.

Tonight is no different. She’s staring up at the ceiling of Violet’s room, letting the muffled snores of her roommate fill the still air. It’s getting increasingly hard to stay awake, and she isn’t sure how much longer she can take it.

Sighing, she rolls out of bed and leaves the room, making sure the door creaked as quietly as possible and that it clicked shut. She heads down the stairs and into the living room. A bookshelf stands in the corner, filled with all sorts of books from encyclopedias to photography books.

Lena instinctively grabs a cookbook (and accidentally knocks off a few more, but she’ll deal with them later) from the second topmost shelf. Yellow sticky notes jut out of the pages, all written on with dark purple ink. Walking into the kitchen adjacent, she flicks on the light, then flips the book open. Vanilla Cake, reads the title in big bold letters, followed by the exact quantity of ingredients needed and the instructions on how to bake one.

This should keep her up until tomorrow.

"...Lena? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

She freezes. Ty is standing at the door, a wooden baseball bat loosely held in his grip. He chucks it aside and steps into the kitchen.

"Hey." She waves half-heartedly with a sheepish smile. "I, uh, couldn't sleep."

"And you're in the kitchen with a cookbook, why?"

Because Aunt Magica haunts my dreams every night and I don’t wanna deal with it anymore?

“...I wanted to do something nice for my friends for once, so I thought baking a cake for our sleepover would be neat?”

Ty’s gaze flickers between Lena and the clock currently showing 12:59. He pinches the area between his eyes. “Lena, it’s late. I think you should go to bed—”

“No!” He flinches. Lena’s eyes widen. “I mean— no, I can’t go to bed until I finish this cake!” she backtracks, her voice cracking. Her heart is pounding. She can't go to sleep, she can't...! “If you help me, I’ll go to bed sooner! Maybe!”

Ty scratches the back of his head. “Well, Indy’s the dad who bakes, not me... but I suppose I can try.”

Relief washes over her. She flashes him a tired smile, handing him a bowl and some measuring cups. “Thanks.”

––––––––––

2.

“We’re back!” 

Indy looks up from the couch. “Welcome back. How was your sleepover?”

“Pleasant,” Violet replies, already halfway up the stairs. “Ate some cake. Played a video game. Saved Lena from getting dragged into a mirror and possibly losing her within a lucid dream to the witch responsible for the shadow war several months ago. The usual.”

“Sounds nice,” Indy remarks. Then did a double take. “Wait, what?”

Ty laughs, following after Violet. “It’s a long story. Took the whole car ride for them to finish telling it.” Indy glares after him, but shrugs and returns to his book.

Lena drops her own bag on the floor and flops onto the couch with a heavy sigh. She could shower or whatever later. Right now she just wanted to rest.

“Long day?” Indy asks, barely moving from his position on the right side of the couch.

“Kinda. I’ve been through worse, though.”

There's a beat of silence.

The unspoken Like what? hangs over her head uncomfortably. Is this the part where she spills her entire life story? Should she play it off as a joke? Would it be wise to pretend she hadn’t said anything? She can feel Indy’s stare on her shoulder, burning like a pair of red-hot lasers—

He either noticed her discomfort, or is really good at reading minds, because he hums quietly and says, “You don’t have to elaborate.”

“...Ah. Right. Okay.” She sits upright, then lets out a short laugh. Her eyes wander over to Indy, who’s still reading his book with a content look on his face. “What is that?”

Indy shows her the book. There’s a bunch of pictures of Violet, Ty and Indy together. “It’s one of the family photo albums,” he explains. “Photography is one of my hobbies.”

Lena grunts in response, then peers at the photos more closely. “Is that Violet in the library?”

“Oh, that’s from the first time we visited the public library together. We had just moved into Duckburg, and wanted to do a little sightseeing. Violet insisted that we check out the library. That girl always did love reading. She gets it from Ty…”

They spend the rest of the hour looking through the photo album together. There’s a surprising amount of photos in this one tiny album, each preserving a special memory that Indy knows by heart and tells Lena about with nothing but fondness. She now knows that Violet used to take ballet classes (and hated it), has won at least two national spelling bees by the age of six, and is part of the Junior Woodchucks.

Photos from before Violet was born are also in it, located near the end of the album. Indy tells Lena that he first met Ty at a college entrance exam. They had entered the building at the same time, and Ty thought it would be neat to strike a conversation with him. They hit it off pretty much immediately, but forgot to ask for each other’s phone numbers before they went their separate ways.

“But you’re married now?!” Lena blurts out, jumping from the cough to point a shaky finger at him. “How?!”

He chuckles. “We met again at a supermarket several months later, I believe, reaching for the same can of beans. Ty’s first words to me ever since were ‘Holy shit, you like beans, too?!’ This time we remembered to exchange contact information, and here we are ten years later.”

“I— Wow.” Lena sits back down. “Some luck you have.”

“I wouldn’t call it luck,” he admits. His fingers gently caressing the old photo of them. “I like to think of it as fate. If we’re meant to be together, life will find a way to get us together.”

(Lena thinks about Webby.

She thinks about their “chance” meeting at the amphitheater.

She thinks about how she almost lost Webby by sacrificing herself to protect her.

She thinks about how lucky she had been that Violet was there in the library that day, reading a nerdy old book.

She inwardly decides that Indy is probably right.)

Once they reach the end of the album, Indy moves to close it. The corners of several photographs stick out from the side. Lena blinks.

“And those are?”

He looks down. “Oh.” Tucking them back in, he replies, “Those are some of the newer photographs. Haven’t gotten a new album for them yet, so I keep them here for the time being.” His fingers drum on the hard cover. “Come to think of it, I don't have any pictures with you yet. We’ll need to remedy that.”

“Hm, why?”

“You’re family, after all. I think you deserve a spot in the photo album.”

Family. She’s family. The thought of it makes her heart flutter.

It takes her a minute to realize Indy stopped talking, and is looking at her with the slightest hint of hesitation in his expression.

She beams at him. “That would be nice. You should get a new album first, though.” As if on cue, a photograph falls out. She picks up. “Hey, what about this one?” Indy lights up, and starts going into a tangent about the one time they lost Violet at Duckburg’s largest department store. As he does, she zones out for a bit, testing the name.

‘Lena Sabrewing’, huh…  She can feel her smile widening.  Sounds way cooler than Lena de Spell.

––––––––––

3.

This is terrible, Lena concludes.

They’re on the way to the Junior Woodchuck Campgrounds for Violet’s upcoming graduation. She’s a little hazy on the details, but she does know that each year only one senior junior woodchuck can become a senior woodchuck (“That’s dumb! Why can’t you all just become senior woodchucks?!” “Don’t question it, Lena.”), they decide who graduates with some sort of obstacle course, and Violet’s opponent this year is likely going to be Huey.

Lena also knows that the campgrounds are located waaaay out on some island in the middle of nowhere, and if she sees another “NOW LEAVING DUCKBURG” sign she’s going to lose it. She lets out a groan as she slides farther down her seat, watching the pine trees blur into a strip of green on the landscape. “Hey, Vi, how much longer ‘til we’re there?”

No answer.

“Vi?”

Again, no answer. Lena knows that Violet has a tendency to be quiet during car rides, preferring to admire the scenery as they drive, but Violet should’ve at least spared her a grunt at this point.

She decides to turn and look at her. Violet is staring at her lap, perfectly still. Her fists are clenched so tightly she can see the white knuckles beneath her purple feathers, and they’re trembling.

“Vi, what’s wrong...?” Lena begins to ask, and then immediately Indy’s voice from before echoes in her head.

“Third time’s the charm, right Vi?”

The gears click into place. Oh.

She inches closer to Violet’s side — as much as she can with her seatbelt on, anyway — and reaches out to place a comforting hand over Violet’s. The hummingbird looks up.

“Hey,” Lena says, “you’ll be okay. You’re the best nerd I’ve ever know. What’s Huey got, his stupid guidebook? You’ve got this.”

“Actually, the Junior Woodchuck Wilderness Challenge prohibits use of the guidebook,” Violet corrects, then sighs. “Sorry. I know you’re trying to comfort me, but I…” She trails off. “I know failing is natural, but it still terrifies me every single time.”

Silence.

Indy, from the passenger seat, pipes up, “Violet, you know that just being willing to go back and try again is… really brave, right? Yeah, failure is inevitable, and very terrifying, but not a lot of people are able to bounce back from it like you do.”

“What Indy said.” Ty peers at them from the rearview mirror and gives them a thumbs up. “We love you no matter what, and I bet you’re gonna crush the competition this year.”

“Yeah! What they said! You’re Violet Sabrewing. You brought me back from the Shadow Realm. If you can do that, you can do anything!”

Violet stares at her for a moment, then Indy, then Ty. Her eyes are glassy. She opens her fist to hold Lena’s hand and squeezes it weakly.

“Thanks,” she whispers, with a smile that doesn’t exactly reach her eyes.

...At least she’s smiling a little. Lena frowns, but gets an idea. She leans forward to ask Ty, “By the way, how long until we get there?”

“Five hours, I think,” Indy answers.

“FIVE HOURS?!” She can feel a vein pop in her head. Five hours. Five. Hours. It feels like she’s been in this stinkin’ car for decades already. Well, no matter.

She turns to Violet. “Alright, since we’re basically stuck here, why don’t I teach you how to smacktalk?”

Violet raises an eyebrow, clearly unamused. “Is that really necessary? Also, I doubt Hubert would appreciate—”

“Of course it is! And of course he won’t. You can’t have a healthy rivalry without a little back and forth! Where’s the fun in that?! Now, the key to good smacktalk is...”

She spends the rest of the ride lecturing Violet on the essentials of smacktalk (read: making most of it up as she went). As they drove, Violet’s shoulders began to relax and she allowed herself to laugh more, and Lena felt more at ease than she had in a while.

––––––––––

4.

Lena wakes up with a gasp. Frantically, she feels around. Her arms are intact. Her legs are still here. Nothing hurts. Phantom Blot isn’t here. Okay. It was just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream.

“Lena?”

“Vi?” Lena calls, but it sounds more like a choked sob. She’s suddenly acutely aware of the tears messing up her feathers and her pounding heart.

Violet sits up. “Another nightmare?” she asks, her voice quiet. Lena nods. She gets up from bed and leaves the room. Lena sits in the darkness, her hands gripping her knees tightly. Breathe in, breathe out.

Violet returns with a tall glass of water and hands it to her. Lena takes it and brings the glass to her beak. The water is cool and soothing.

“They’ve become increasingly frequent. Shouldn’t we talk to our fathers about this?”

“No,” Lena says immediately, finishing her glass and setting it on the night table with shaky hands. “I don’t want them to get worried.” 

Violet gives her a glare that pierces even in the dark, then sighs.

“Very well.”

✿ — ✿ — ✿

On Christmas Day, Lena wakes up to Violet dumping a bucket of cold water over her.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Ack—! Violet, what the hell?!”

“Apologies,” Violet says, her tone betraying her words. She’s already dressed in a plain cream turtleneck. “You wouldn’t wake up no matter what I did.” She tugs at her sleeve. “Now, come. Fathers are already in the living room. You were literally the last to awaken.” Without waiting for a response, she drags her out of the room and down the stairs.

The living room feels… warmer than usual. There are string lights, giving out a gentle multicoloured glow, both around the Christmas Tree and hung up along the walls. Someone took the time to hang a wreath on every door in the house, each covered in mini ornaments and topped with a red bow. The bright orange fire in the fireplace is crackling.

Ty and Indy are already waiting, wearing matching Christmas sweaters. “Merry Christmas!” they greet, pulling the two girls into a hug. 

“Merry Christmas,” Lena says back before pulling away. The cheeriness of the season was beginning to catch up to her. “So! What do we do first?”

“Well, the presents are under the tree but maybe eat breakfast first—”

Lena was gone the moment Ty said ‘presents’. She rushes to the tree and begins checking the tags for her name. Not that there are that many presents to check. Violet follows soon after with a much calmer demeanor.

She ends up with a limited edition of The FeatherWeights’ newest album from Ty and Indy (“How did you know they’re my favourite band?!” “Your shirt is all we needed to clue us in.”) and an exact replica of the Caw-nverse shoes she loves wearing. Violet receives two books — an encyclopedia the thickness of one and a half dictionaries about magic and a thinner book called Tales of the Peculiar.

She’s ready to head off to the dining table to eat when Violet stops her. 

“Wait.” She pulls out a neatly wrapped present from her pocket and holds it out to Lena. “Here.”

“Wh— But I didn’t get you anything!”

“It’s okay.” Violet shoves the present into her hands. “Just take it.” Lena peers at her suspiciously before tearing the wrapping paper clean off and opening the box.

A dreamcatcher. The hoop used is a nice beige, and a flower-like design had been woven within it with colourful threads. White feathers suspended from twine, with beads adorning the strands at intervals, are attached to the hoop. Lena dangles the dreamcatcher above the box and looks at Violet questioningly.

“It may not be as beneficial as actual therapy since I couldn’t infuse it with any magic, but it should help keep the bad dreams at bay,” Violet explains. “Probably. I made it myself so it might not work.”

Lena stares at the dreamcatcher again. Upon closer inspection, the feathers and beads appear to be glued to the twine, and the twine was wound imperfectly around the base of the hoop. The flower design is also uneven, having slightly larger ‘petals’ on one side. She feels herself tear up. “Violet. This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me.”

“I can’t believe saving you from roaming in the shadow realm for all of eternity isn’t the sweetest thing I've ever done for you,” Violet replies, completely deadpan. But the corners of her beak are twitching upwards.

“You wanted to summon evil spirits! I was a byproduct. It doesn’t count,” Lena jokes, putting the dreamcatcher away. She envelopes her in a crushing hug. “Thank you.” Her voice is wobbling. “This is just— It must’ve taken ages. Now I feel even worse for not getting you anything.”

Violet hugs her back just as tightly. “You’re welcome. Just make sure you get me my own personal library next year.”

As if your room isn’t filled with enough books as is, Lena thinks, but she can’t help but laugh.

Ty clears his throat. “This is great, but it’s already nine and you girls haven’t even had breakfast yet, so chop chop! We’ve got a whole day ahead of us.”

(They end up at the ice rink, where Lena learns that she’s actually terrible at ice skating. Violet offers to teach her like the Samaritan she is, but doesn’t hesitate to throw jabs at her incompetence. Fortunately, she’s not the only one who’s suffering, if Indy’s screaming and Ty’s guffawing are any indications.)

––––––––––

In the first fifteen years of her life, Lena had been alone with no one to turn to. Being part of a happy family felt like something out of a movie or fairy tale. Happiness seemed like an unreachable dream.

But within two years, she found a best friend in Webby, a sister in Violet, and two dads in Ty and Indy. She found a family to call her own, one that loved her and made her feel good about herself. She was finally content.

The dreamcatcher and family photo hanging above her bed would need to be pried from her cold, dead hands.

[agentofscifi]

 Success is the Best Kind of Revenge

I didn’t want to feel smug, I really didn’t, but I just couldn’t help the pin prick of smugness. My entire classes sat around, horribly disappointed in our Lycée classroom. Many of them had gotten responses for Universities jobs, and internships over the winter semester. They hadn’t turned out well. 

Alya had applied to a job at a newspaper, applied to three internships and sent four university applications out. She lost every one of them. Nino hadn’t gotten his internship either nor did he get into the music school he wanted. Kim had a scholarship and college acceptance revoked, and the two other Universities who had been offering swimming scholarships pulled their offers back too. Ivan and Myléne had both been under investigation over the break for charity fraud. Though they were cleared, no other charities wanted their help and their university had pulled their acceptance out. 

Rose’s eyes were still red and raw looking. Prince Ali had cut all contact with Rose and she was denied from her music schools. All of Max’s scholarships and every since school he applied to, all fourteen of them, pulled back their acceptance. Nathaniel’s comic strip was no longer being printed and there was a pending copyright suit. Sabrina was under investigation too, for theft, breaking and entering as well as illegal photography. Her university denied her as well. She assisted Lila and Alya in harassing me over the past few years. Adrien was sitting in his seat, a numb sort of look over his face as Nino patted his shoulder. Lila, however, was the only happy one in the class. She had a firm grip on Adrien’s arm as she chatted to an unset Alya about how she helped catch Hawkmoth with Ladybug. 

The only reason I knew all of this was because of their parents. Despite their children no longer speaking to me, my classmates' parents and siblings were still in good relations with my family. Their parents had described their disappointment and confusion to my parents after all of the university issues. 

I was sitting in the back with a sad looking Juleka, an annoyed Alix and an over smug Chloe. A weird sort of girl group that formed as the rest of the class refused to grow up. I wanted to feel bad, I really did, but honestly, they made their own graves. I tried to warn them, I tried to keep them from this. They choose the fool’s gold. 

Alix, Chloe and Juleka came to the light. Chloe figured it out the quickest, many of Lila’s lies had holes in them. Chloe saw the holes quite easily. Juleka became wary of Lila after Luka met her. Apparently, Lila’s inner song is like nails on chalkboards and dying kittens. As for Alix, she had asked Lila about the Rabbit Miraculous only for Lila to tell her that it was wielded by a man in the future. Either way, they all saw what was really going on. 

Mrs. Bustier walks into the room just as the bell rings, a large smile on her face. “Hello everyone. I hope you had a good break. Did everyone do their homework?” Most of the classmates looked down at those words. Our winter break homework, making a list of options for after Lycée this year. Normally we’d have private meetings about all of this today, while the rest of us worked in the library. Mrs. Bustier decided that our class would share our options with everyone else. 

“Well, would anyone like to start? Alya?” Mrs. Bustier gives a big smile to my former best friend. 

Alya’s face pales and she mumbles for a second before clearing her throat. “I, ahh. I’ve decided to take a year off, to do a year of work. There’s a grocery store that has some openings for me and the Zoo where my Dad works is hiring summer people for the gift shop and concessions.”

Mrs. Bustier’s smile drops. “Alya, what about your internships at the newspaper, or the one at TVi?”

Alya looks down. “I didn’t get them.”

“What about Goldsmith University in London? Or Cardiff University? Of the University of Amsterdam? Or ESJ Paris? You were looking forward to all of the programs these schools offered.”

Alya’s hand on the desk clenches. “I didn’t get in.”

Mrs. Bustier’s smile was completely gone now. “What?”

“All four Universities denied me. I didn't get into any of them.”

“Oh.” Mrs. Bustier blushes a deep red and looks around to the room before settling on me. She nudges her head towards Alya, telling me to comfort my classmate. 

I raise an eyebrow at her, causing her blush to deepen. She did that everytime I reminded her, either subtly or not, that she couldn’t put all of her responsibilities onto a child. Regardless, I spoke up. I really did feel some pity for the class. “I’m sorry about that Alya. Try again next year. A job or something might help boost your application.”

Alya whips around and glares at me. “I don’t need your pity! I’ll be fine! Unlike you, you’ll just be a nobody. I bet not a single University in the whole world wanted you!” I sigh and glance over at Mrs. Bustier. She remained silent as Alya rips into me. Typical. 

Chloe lets out a small laugh. “You’re one to talk.”

Alya’s face heats up again and Mrs. Bustier finally cleared her throat. “Well, let’s move on. Nino, what about you? What about that school in America?”

Nino rubs the back of his head. “I, uh. I heard back. They don’t think I’m ready to start at Musicians Institute in Los Angeles. I didn’t get the internship either, the one in Hollywood. My parents are letting me keep my DJ work up next year, but I have to find a job.”

Mrs. Bustier’s smile is obviously forced now. She’d spent the whole break bragging about her classmates on social media and in an interview. So far, the class was not doing so well. “Rose? How about you? What music school are you going to?”

Rose immediately starts to tear up. “None of them! Julliad didn’t want me! Neither did the Royal Academy of Music or Royal College of Music in London. They said my music wasn’t good enough!” 

Rose was just about sobbing at this point in front of me. Juleka looks even more sad and I agreed with her. Rose’s lyrics were actually pretty good, until Lila got a hold of her. Now the music was less inspiring and unique. 

Mrs. Bustier looks up at me. A desperate plea in her eyes. I look away almost instantly, pulling out a small thing of tissues. I pass them over to Rose’s shoulder, getting a soft thank you in response. Juleka pulls out her phone and starts to text. More than likely offering a shoulder for Rose to cry on after class. 

Mrs. Bustier fumbles with her hands for a minute, looking around the class. “Sabrina, what about you? Do you still want that social justice degree?”

Sabrina drops her head into her arms. “No. I’m not going to University next year. My father wants me to stay in Paris with him until next year. He’s...worried about me.”

Mrs. Bustier’s eyes are a little more frantic now. “Myléne! Ivan! How about you two? Where do you hope to go to University next year?”

Myléne sinks in her seat. Ivan glances around the room like he’s hoping someone will help. No one does. “We’re ah, taking a year off too. Our summer volunteer trip in Africa fell through also. So, we’re sticking around for a while. Looking at our options.” Myléne nods. 

“Oh, good for you.” Mrs. Bustier looks around the room again. She avoided us. No surprise. Unlike the rest of the class, we really didn’t get much time to discuss our future with Mrs. Bustier. She seemed to be focusing on the students she believed would be going somewhere. “Kim! How about that swimming scholarship?”

Kim flushes red too. “I uh. I’m not going to be swimming in the fall. I’m thinking about some basic classes at a local university.”

“What about the scholarship?”

Kim’s eyes darted around, briefly looking at me, before continuing on. “I lost it. There were some issues, I didn’t qualify anymore.”

“Nathaniel! What about you? Did your new comic strip kick off?”

Nathenial’s head drops to his desk and he moans. The whole class stares in shock. Nathenial shakes his head on the desk, another moan emitting from below the red hair. 

“Max!” There’s a look of comfort in Mrs. Bustier. Her smartest pupil would come through, wouldn’t he. “How about you?”

“I got denied. All fourteen schools denied me!” Max had a slight crazed look in his eyes. As I looked closer I could see how unkempt me was. His suspenders were a little askew, his hair wasn’t quite as controlled as usual, and his glasses weren’t straight. “Me, the kid who made an AI was denied from MIT, Stanford, Cambridge, Oxford, Harvard, Berkeley, University of Tokyo, ETH Zürich, California’s Institute of Technology, Technical University of Munich, École Polytechnique Fédérale de Lausanne, Nanyang Technological University, Princeton, and Grenoble Institute of Technology. All of my scholarships, gone!” A hysterical laugh rips through Max as he sits in his seat. 

Mrs. Bustier franic look was back as she scanned the room once more. She briefly looks up at the four of us then shakes her head. Alix rolls her eyes from across the row. Obviously Mrs. Bustier thought we’d all be failors too. Instead, she looks at Adrien and Lila. 

“Adrien, what about you? Any University plans?”

Adrien’s mouth opens and closes a few times. “I’m moving in with my Aunt. I plan to teach piano to some kids in the fall. I have some… stuff to do with my father’s company this summer. I don’t think I’ll be going to a University anytime soon.”

“Lila!” Mrs. Bustier’s voice is high and cracking. “What about you? Still doing charity work? Going to University?”

Lila gives a huge smile to the whole class. “Yes. I’ll be working in Achu for a little bit this summer. I got into a few schools in the U.S, France, England and in Italy. I’m not sure where I want to study yet, but I’m sure I’ll be the next best thing in Fashion. Opps!” Lila looks up at me. “I’m sorry Marinette! I didn’t mean to offend you.”

I give a small, fake smile. “Don’t worry Lila. It’s fine. Maybe I’ll see you next year? What schools did you get into?”

Lila’s fasade drops slightly. “I, uh. Parson’s in New York, and um, Central Saint Martins in London, and um Accademia Costume e Moda in Rome. I decided to go to Central Saint Martins.”

“Impressive. I didn’t send anything to the Accademia in Rome, but I’m happy to see someone else got into Parson’s and Saint Martins.” My smile is a little sharp. I could afford to fake my congratulations when I knew that Lila’s tower was about to collapse underneath her. 

“Marinette, you got into Parson’s and Saint Martins?” Mrs. Bustier’s smile was back and slightly crazed. “Which one of those will you be going to?”

“Neither. I did get into Parsons school of design in New York, as well as Central Saint Martin’s in London, but I’m not going to either of those.”

“What school will you be going to?” Mrs. Bustier’s eyebrows are furrowed. 

“The London College of Fashion. I got into ESMOD in Paris, Istituto Marangoni International in Milan, as well as Parson’s School of Design and Central Saint Martins. I thought about staying in Paris, but I just wanted a little distance. You know, spread my wings.  I didn’t feel like going to New York either. It’s pretty far away. I almost agreed to go to the school in Milan, but I think I’m going to hold off on that school until I go to get a Master’s Degree. So, it was between London College of Fashion and Saint Martins and I just liked the London College more.” 

“Oh, that’s fantastic Marinette!” Mrs. Bustier’s enthusiasm returns in full swing. 

Alya snort ruins the moment. “If she’s even telling the truth.”

Lila blinks and then looks back up at me. “Yah, that’s true. How do we know you’re not lying. You’ve been doing that alot the last four years.”

Mrs. Bustier smile turns into a frown and she instead gives a glare meant for a child. “It’s not nice to lie, Marinette.”

A smirk earns its way onto my face. “I’m not lying. I don’t care if you believe me or not, but I’m not lying. I’ll be in London, come Fall, studying to be a world class fashion designer.”

Alya snorts again. Mrs. Bustier gives me an exasperated look, but freezes as she meets my gaze. Any sort of appreciation or respect for my teacher was gone, replaced by annoyance and I hold Mrs. Bustier’s gaze for over a full minute, causing the woman to fidget. 

Chloe finally nudges me and clears her throat. “Well, I finally decided where I’ll be going in the fall. I even have a roommate picked out.” She nudges me with a smile. 

“No way you’re going to University.” Alya’s teeth are bare as she all but growls at Chloe. “Who would want you?”

Chloe shrugs. “Oh, you know. Harvard, Stanford, Cambridge, Oxford, INSEAD, Bocconi University, and the London Business School. I’m going to the London Business School. It’s ranked third in the world for Business studies. The only places above it are Harvard and INSEAD, but I don’t want to move all the way to America quite yet and I was not staying in a town less than an hour from you all.”

The whole class looks at Chloe in surprise. That was something they never realized. Chloe didn’t put work in when she was younger because she didn’t have to. Everything was given to her until Lycée when our teachers finally started to push Chloe. Now, she was a budding business woman already helping me with my MDC company. 

“No way!” Max looks up at Chloe. Anger in his eyes. “How did you get in and not me?”

Chlor rolls her eyes. “I’m fluent in French, English, Italian, Spanish, Mandarin, as well as Portugese. I have a 4.00 GPA and perfect grades in all my classes. I got all A* grades in my A level exams to get me into the Schools in London. I even took the ACT and SAT for the Universities in America. I got a 33 on the ACT and a 1520 on the SAT. I have been helping my Daddy with the hotel for over three years and I’ve had three different internships.”

The whole class is staring at Chloe. They wanted to argue, but Alix cuts them off first. “Well, if we’re done arguing about how Chloe got into top Universities. I’m attending Cambridge in the Fall, just like my Dad and brother. I’m also tagging along on a dig in China this summer. There’s this old temple the Louvre is investigating with several other museums and colleges.”

The class just stares at her, completely complex. Alix shrugs and looks at Juleka. “Juleka, your turn.”

Juleka pulls her hair back and clears her throat. “I’m attending Guildhall School of Music and Drama, in London. I’ll be studying music and production arts. I’ve also been signed to a modeling agency in London, so I'll be doing that too.”

“So, you’ll all be living together?” Myléne looks at us curiously. 

I shake my head. “No, Alix and Juleka will be living on Campus this year, in the dorms. Chloe and I will be sharing an apartment however. Our schools are only 30 minutes apart when walking.”

“We’ve already found a place. 4 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, and a large kitchen. Mari gave me the Master Bed and Bath so she could convert one of the extra bedrooms into a studio.”

Alya scoffs. “You doing anything else this summer?” She tries to sound strong, but it comes off a bit flat. 

“We’re all doing a Graduation trip to Italy, you know, because we couldn’t go on the class one. Juleka’s mom and Marinette’s Grandmother are chaperoning. We’ll be touring all of Italy over a month.” Alix gives the class a smile as someone knocks on the door. 

Mrs. Bustier gives us a small smile and goes to the door. There’s a gasp and Mrs. Bustier slowly backs up. There’s four police officers just outside the classroom door along with a small collection of people. Two of the people have a strong resemblance to Lila, and another person has an Italian look. Another three people all standing together, looking over the class. Principle Damocles is present as well, looking very pale. More people are filtering in and I realize it’s the parents of most of our classmates. Each set of parents comes and stands next to their child or sits on the bench with them. Juleka’s Mom gives me a little wave as she sits next to her daughter. 

Principle Damocles clears his throat. “Students, if I could have your attention please. There have been some... issues over the break that need to be addressed.”

Alya perks up. “Have you finally come to deal with Chloe and Marinette? They’ve been bullying poor Lila for years.”

“No.” One of the women who had been surveying the class turns to look at Alya. “We’re here for a variety of reasons. First of all, several students in this class are under investigation for a variety of charges. Second of all, almost every single one of you has ended being denied from every college you applied to. Lastly, We’re here to deal with the improper and naive mindsets that your Principal and Teacher have. Especially considering Ms. Rossi. Speaking of which.” The woman turns to Mrs. Bustier. “I’m not even going to touch your bluntly stupid way of dealing with bullies. That will be handled after all of this. Right now I’m going to ask why you threw every single rule about parental contact and special privileges out the window. You do not give students special privilege for medical conditions if they do not have doctors notes. You do not just ignore the fact that you can’t contact one of your students parents by anything but email. You don’t ignore when one of your students disappears willy nilly when every she feels like it.”

Mrs. Bustier opens and closes her mouth. “Who are you? I’ve been in contact with all of my students' parents.”

“I am Amelia Vaux, the Superintendent of Education in France. And no, you have not been in contact with all of your student’s parents. The email Lila Rossi gave you is an email she set up. Mrs. Rossi has never spoken to you, received an email or signed anything for the school. The woman is still operating under the assumption that your collége closed down for months at one point.”

“I, what?” Mrs. Bustier looks completely lost. 

“Lila Rossi gave you a fake email and a fake phone number for her Mother. Lila Rossi’s father is not asstrange, despite what she has been saying. Lila Rossi has a clean bill of health according to a doctor's visit over break. No tinnitus, no arthritis, no sprains, no breaks, no vision issues, no hearing issues at all. The worst thing she’s had was a bad case of influenza when she was 11. Of course, this is ignoring the fact that the girl was diagnosed as a pathological liar and with antisocial personality disorder when the girl was 13 years old. It’s in her medical file and her student file, along with a warning about the girl’s bullying habits.”

Everyone was staring at Mrs. Vaux up front, the parents looked sick and my classmates were staring in disbelief. “No,” Alya is shaking her head. “This can’t be true. Marinette is the liar.”

Mrs. Vaux turns from Mrs. Bustier and look at Alya. “Actually, Mrs. Dupain-Cheng was telling the truth and has unfairly suffered for it for years. From what I understand, most of this class had vandalized Mrs. Dupain-Cheng’s belongings or stolen things from her. All on the words of Ms. Rossi, who’s lies could have been proven false by a google search. Jagged Stone is allergic to cats. Prince Ali only runs children’s charities. I could continue.”

One of the women in the room clears her voice at this point. “If I may, I am here on the behalf of several people of various nationalities.” She sets a pile of papers before Lila and Alya. “These are cease and desist orders for the both of you. The Ladyblog must be shut down and deleted on the ground of libel, slander, and a violation of rights. As for Ms. Rossi, you have multiple charges of libel, slander, illegal photography, and a variety of charges you order to be sent to famous people who don’t know you.” Lila was paling quickly. “You also have a case of breaking and entering, theft, copyright violation and assault.”

“I have diplomatic immunity. All you can do is kick me out of the country.” Lila stands up from her seat, a smug look on her face.

“No!” A woman with a heavy Italian accent frowns at Lila. “We have revoked your diplomatic immunity. You will be charged here, in France, and will serve out your sentence in a French Prison. Italy already made a mistake when they let you have therapy for your original incident instead of time in a juvenile detention center. We will not make that mistake again.”

A police officer clears his throat and looks over at Lila. “Lila Rossi. You are under arrest for breaking and entering, theft, copyright violation, assault, destruction of property, libel, slander, charity fraud and terrorism. Hawkmoth had a camera in his lair. We have videos of you visiting his lair. He also confirmed that you willingly took akumas, helped him akumatized people and a variety of other things.”

Lila stands frozen as the police officer cuffs her hands behind her back. She finally snaps out of it as she looks towards the other two Italian people. “Mamma! Pápa! Do something!”

The woman takes one look at Lila and then bursts into tears. She’s full on sobbing into her hands. The man simple lays a hand on Mrs. Rossi and levels his daughter with a deadly stare. “No Lila. We cannot help you out of this mess.”

Lila gaps and then glares at her father. “Why not?”

“You’re not a child anymore, Lila! You’re over 18! There’s video evidence of your crimes! That blog is filled with your lies! You can’t lie your way out of this. You can’t get off scot free! You’re being charged with terrorism!”

Lila gaps for another minute then screams. A blood-thirst, angry scream as she whips around and glares at me. “You! This is all your doing Dupain-Cheng! You stupid bitch!”

I level with Lila’s glare. “Yes. I got the ball rolling. You see, when you broke into my room before break and stole my designs so you could add them to your portfolio for University, you didn’t realize that I had a video camera set up. I got on camera, breaking and entering, theft, and copyright violation. I gave the evidence to the police. I didn't expect all of this, but I’m not sorry.”

Lila screams again and starts to fight the police, forcing the second cop to help grab Lila and drag her from the room. Lila’s parents follow them out, with the Italian woman giving the class a nod before following. The lawyer gives Mrs. Vaux a nod and follows after them. 

The other two police officers exchange looks before one clears his throat. “When investigation Ms. Lila Rossi, all of you were brought up. Most of you have broken a variety of laws at the behest of Ms. Rossi. Whether you knew that you were breaking the law or not doesn’t matter. Most of you destroyed the property of one of your classmates, more than once. You also physically assaulted her on more than one occasion. We have the video footage to prove it.”

Several parents were moaning now, forlorn looks on their faces as they started to realize the consequences of their children’s actions. 

“Oh, my god!” We all look over at Max who looked a second away from hyperventilating. “I wrote my University admissions paper about a project Lila worked on. She gave me all of the data!”

Max’s mother moans. “You didn’t look up any of it!”

Max flushes. “She said it hadn’t been published yet.”

Max’s mother mumbles under her breath. “This is why all those Universities denied you! This is why you lost all our University acceptances and scholarships! Because you took the word of some Italian classmate above your own common sense.”

“Max thought that a napkin could cut his eye.” Chloe starts to file her nails, ignoring Max’s mother, who was now staring at her. “And he wears glasses.”

Max’s mother moans once again, and slumps onto the steps next to Max’s seat.

The police officers exchange looks once again. The first one continues his speech as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “Due to the fact that most of your crimes were committed when you were a minor and were against the same person. There will not be any fines or jail time for any of you.”

There’s a large collective sigh through the room. Nino’s mother looks like she’s praying. Mrs.Vaux clears her throat. “While that may be true for legal terms, you are all on probation. One step out of line and you will be expelled from this school. You will also all have to complete anti-bullying seminars to graduate. Mrs. Bustier is also no longer your teacher. Mrs. Aveline will be your homeroom teacher for the rest of the year.” She gestures to one of the women behind her. “Mrs. Fortier is your temporary principle for the rest of the year. Mr. Damocles is no longer your principle.”

Rose hesitantly raises a hand. “Why are you firing Mrs. Bustier and Mr. Damocles?”

Mrs. Vaux’s frown deepens. “None of this would have happened if the two of them had done their jobs. Ms. Rossi’s habits were clearly outlined in her student file. If either of them had bothered to do their job correctly four years ago, we wouldn’t be in this position.” Rose nods meekly, sinking back into her seat and leaning into her mother. 

The police officer clears his throat again. ���Now, while none of you will be fined or be serving jail time, you do have to serve a certain number of community service hours to complete within the next six months. If you don’t complete the service hours, you will be fined for the crimes. Your parents have already agreed to the terms we will lay out for you. However, because all of you are over 18, you can try to bring this to court.”

Alya turns and glares at me. “This is all your fault!”

Alya’s mouth grabs her by the shoulders and jerks her around. “Alya. You will complete these service hours. If you get convicted you’re looking at thousands in euros of fines and almost a decade of jail time.”

Alya gasps. “What did I do?”

The second policeman glances down at a clipboard. “Libel, slander, damaging of property, theft, and assault.”

Alya stares at the man, going slack in her seat. It was like the consequences of everything she’d done of the past four years were finally hitting her. 

The second policeman clears his throat once again. “Alright. Rose Lavillant, Ivan Bruel, Mylène Haprèle, Nathaniel Kurtzberg and Max Kanté, you will have to serve 50 hours of community service over the next six months. Nino Lahiffe, Lê Chiên Kim, Alya Césaire, and Sabrina Raincomprix, you all will be serving 100 hours of community service.”

“Ms. Césaire, by court order, your Ladyblog will have to be deleted as well.” Alya gaps at the officer and goes to stand, but both of her parents hold her down. 

Mrs. Vaux sighs, and moves her gaze up to the four of us at the top. “Ms. Dupain-Cheng, Ms. Bourgeois, Ms. Couffaine, and Ms. Kubdel, you will be switched into Ms. Mendeleiev’s class for the remainder of the year. I believe it would be best for you to be out of this environment.”

All four of us nod and start to pick up our things. The rest of the classmates stare at us. “But, who’s going to be class representative now?” Rose looks close to tears again.

I shrug, pulling my bag over my shoulder. “The job goes to the deputy now.” 

The whole class shifts to look at Alya, who pales once again. The four of us walk down the stairs to the near silence of the room, our parents trailing after us. As soon as we were out the door several people started yelling in the room. 

I knew I should care, and part of me did, but I just felt happy that most of this was all over. It took four years, but finally, everyone knew about Lila. I hadn’t felt this light in years.

Ch. 2 ~~~~ Ch. 3

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #479

“war sends our sons to slaughter  /  another failed attack; there is no turning back”

Have you ever boycotted something? Yes: Chick-fil-A. Homophobic, transphobic pieces of shit. Has anyone ever borrowed something from you, and not returned it? Yes, a video game when I was little. I was so mad, lol. Do you vent a lot on social media? No. I don't want people to get annoyed with me. What was your first bill you started paying on your own? I haven't been responsible for any bills yet. What is your favorite charitable cause to donate to or volunteer for? I can't/don't do either really, but if I could, I'd probably donate to uhhhh... suicide prevention organizations. As for volunteering, definitely something with animals. Have you ever dated someone who wasn’t at all your usual type? No. What is something you have no patience for? Waiting at the doctor's office. Have you ever received a misdiagnosis? Yes. What’s that you’re listening to? I'm watching Gab play The Evil Within 2. What kind of relationship do you have with the last person you kissed? We're a couple. What is your biggest accomplishment in life? Still being alive. What is one thing that you really wish you could understand, but don’t? Political stuff. Economics. Have you ever been tutored or tutored someone yourself? I had an Algebra tutor the last time I was in college, and I had to strangle an anxiety attack down because I wasn't understanding the material AT ALL and felt so dumb and annoying. I never did it again. What was the last thing you said out loud (singing doesn’t count)? "It's really embarrassing," to Mom. It really is fucking humiliating that my ankles are swollen from walking/standing more and pushing my desk chair back against the resistance of the carpet. That's pathetic. I'm trying to focus on the fact it's good my body is even reacting to moving more, though. Is everything you have on actually yours? Yep. Do you ever just randomly drive around when you’re upset about something? I don't drive, but if I did, that would NOT be my method of de-stressing. What was the last act of creativity you displayed? Writing an RP post. What’s your favorite department in Wal-Mart? Uh, I guess where you can go see the plants and flowers. Do you find kite flying boring? I LOVED it as a kid. I'd still probably find it kinda fun. Do you have any interest in visiting Japan? Yes, but it's not a massive interest. I've heard the humidity can kill a bitch, and I am NOT into that. Have you ever run a cash register? Yes. I sucked. Have you ever worked as a server? No. Have you ever done the Bratz challenge on YouTube? No, but I saw James Charles do it and it was v unnerving, holy shit. Would you rather paint or carve a pumpkin? Carve. What was your worst experience in high school? My depression as a whole. How much did your senior prom dress cost you? I don't remember. Have you ever been in a serious romantic relationship? Three, if you include my current one. Which part of your body is the most muscular? Uh, nothing? What is the first site you check when you get online, generally? KM. Are you good at creative writing assignments? That's my forte. In elementary school, I actually won a I think county-wide creative writing short story assignment. Not to brag, but I've always been very proud of that, ha ha. Or would you rather just do an informative essay? That's easy for me too, but I prefer writing creatively. Are you more attracted to the badasses, or the goody-goody types? Definitely the goody-goodies. The "bad guys" have never appealed to me romantically. Do you raise your hand or participate in class? I did if I really wanted to ask something or was confident in an answer. What is something BIG you want to do with your life? Make a difference, somehow. What do you think of people who own wild animals? Do NOT just casually take in animals from the wild. That's selfish and just generally disgusting. If you're going to keep an animal generally described as wild and undomesticated, you'd better have a license and deserve that license. Know what you're doing and be certain that keeping the animal in captivity is in the animal's best interest for its unique case. Are you good at explaining things, in general? NOOOOOOOOO, I suck at that. Do you like visiting the mall? Why or why not? Not our mall, no. Its stores suck/are extremely limited, and SO much crime has happened there. Do you like window shopping? Why or why not? YESSSSSSS, mostly on Morph Market, a mostly reptile selling hub online. You can browse TONS of breeders and literally thousands of reptiles, especially ball pythons. They even have a tarantula section I like to look at sometimes. If you lost your job/home/etc., who would likely help you? If I'm losing my home, I'm assuming my mom is gone, so my dad. Why did you first kiss the last person you kissed? We were a couple and I felt like I was supposed to. At that time I didn't see him romantically, but I desperately wanted to. Funny how we're back together and I've no reservations against kissing him now. Feelings change, for sure. Plans for tonight? Girt and I will probably play some WoW Classic together. We've started playing that together, and it's lots of fun with him. :') Has anyone seen you kiss the last person you kissed? Actually, no. Have you ever been kissed in a car? Yeah. Do you think anyone has feelings for you? I know Girt does. Is there anyone in your life that knows right away something’s wrong with you? My mom. Who last made you smile? Girt, 'cuz he's a sweetheart. Where is your mother? She's in bed in her room. She feels like shit. Like, you would think she WASN'T vaccinated, though her long-time doctor has said she'd probably be dead without it while having Covid. Would you rather look at clouds or stars? Stars. Think about your biggest mistake, would you go back and change it? I absolutely would. Are you dating the person you last kissed? Yeup. What is the most immature item you own and actually use? Um. Idk. Do you always take a shower after you have sex? I... didn't know people did this? Like I know women are advised to pee after sex, but full-on showering? No. Do you like chocolate popsicles? Oh hell yeah. Are your parents proud of you? They claim to be. I don't see how. Are you interested in the ocean? Yeah; it's inarguably so fascinating. Hot dogs or hamburgers? I prefer burgers. Have you ever been to a Chinatown in any of the cities you’ve been to? No. Have you ever been to couple’s counseling? No. Do you have any dietary restrictions? No. Have you ever turned down a job offer? No. What’s the largest animal you’ve ever had as a pet? A dog named Cali that was a boxer mix. Do you ever pray, even if you don't believe in God? What exactly is the point if you don't believe in God...? Anyway, I don't. Have you ever been to Mexico? No. Have you ever gotten stuck in quicksand before? No. What's the shortest or longest length you've ever had your hair grow? To around the small of my back. The last nest you saw - was it a bird nest or a hornet's nest? I think a bird's? Do you enjoy Jeff Dunham? I don't know if I'd like him as a person, but I do think he's a funny comedian. Who is your favorite character from Frozen? I was never into the movies. I do think Elsa is kinda cool (no pun intended, lol), though. I like that she has her flaws. Did you finish high school? If not, do you plan on doing so? I did. Have you been in a simulator that mimicked a submarine or rollercoaster? A rollercoaster, yes. How often do you go out to eat instead of cooking for yourself? Mom and I try to avoid fast food for our health. We do a pretty good job at it, but sometimes for convenience's sake, we do eat it. What is the largest family of siblings that you know of? This is probably gonna come across as very judgmental, but... it really bothers me. I don't know how many kids she has now, but one of the dance moms from the studio has SO many children; I've completely lost count. Now if you want that many kids and can provide for them, that's cool. But that's not the case. She uses the "if God wants me to have a baby, then it will happen" mentality, and I'm just like... um, no hunny. Poor choices are leading to kids you're not adequately providing for. She uses no methods of protection and literally has twins whose room is a fucking closet. Ugh it just really bothers me. What foreign languages were offered to you at school? A whole lot. Only Spanish and I believe French were offered as in-school courses, but there were lots of online classes. If you were required to take a course right now, what would you choose? Photography. Team Biden or Team Trump? Over my dead body would I have voted for Trump. My vote went with Biden. What is an animal native to your country that may not exist in others? Bison are factually exclusive to North America. Note that bison and buffalo are different. What are some of your favorite autumn activities? Taking pictures of fall scenery. <3 What are some of your favorite winter activities? Going out in the snow. :') Especially with a camera. Do you eat a shit-ton the week before your period? uuugggghhHHHHHH yes Wendy's, McDonalds, or Burger King? Wendy's. What's the weirdest question you've ever asked Alexa? I've never asked Alexa anything. Do you prefer your apple cider to be warm or cold? I've actually never had it. Do you prefer your coffee hot or iced? Y'all know the story of me and coffee. Can you sing the alphabet backwards? I can't. Have you ever sent flowers or chocolates to yourself before? Ha ha, no. Is there any meat that you won't eat? Yeah, fish and ANYTHING that comes from a wild animal. Does your cat use anything other than it's scratching post as a scratcher? When we got him a scratcher WITH CATNIP, the lil butthead ignored it. -_- He scratches the carpet instead. Did you go through a vampire craze before? Are you still going through it? Nah. Have you ever forged your parents' signature on a poor test paper, etc? No. Has a bird ever pooped on you before? Omg, no. I'd die. Have you ever been sprayed by a skunk before? No. Are black jellybeans delicious or disgusting? I HATE them. Have you ever rolled down a grassy hill before? I have! I miss that.

[wistfulkitten]

i dream you'd love me again (2) || jk

sadness, guilt, regret. all things jeongguk felt after reading her letter.

genre: angst and fluff? childhood friends, cheating, sisters boyfriend au

pairing: jeongguk x reader

word count: 2.3k

posted: 200518

warnings: longing, infidelity, profanity (kinda), mentions of sex, probably inconsistent punctuation 

a/n: theres probably gonna be minor grammar issues because grammarly is shit and im tired. n e way i tried making this longer, it took me like four hours believe it or not. funni how i can make time for writing but not for my hw. silly me. i tried explained why he did what he did and im sorry if it was crappy. thank u to yall who read the first one. if you guys have any requests or ideas feel free to send me something in my inbox or message me. tyty:))

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sadness. sadness is what jeongguk felt at the end of ___’s letter. sad that he hurt her enough to the point that she thought of herself as anything but perfect. sad that she doubted his feelings for her. sad that despite everything he put her through, she still loved him and still wished him the best. he always knew she had a big heart. it's one of the many reasons he was drawn to her in the beginning, but it was also one of her biggest weaknesses. her heart was too big for her own good and it scared him. ___ was always too quick to forgive and forget and most of the time it came back to bite her in the ass.

 he saw it time after time when her dad had left. he had had an affair and left his wife and two kids for a younger woman and yet she never got mad or ever blamed her father in contrary to yoona. while yoona never gave her father the time of day after the separation, ___ always made sure to set time aside for him even when he never put in enough effort to interacting with his daughters. he was a pretty crappy father, content with his new life. and though it made her sad that her family was no longer whole and her mother was practically always crying herself to sleep, it made her happy that her dad was happy. she was just about twelve then and still, she never gave into childish grudges. thirteen year old jeongguk found her slightly stupid for this trait but as they grew up, he found it quite endearing. 

guilt. after the sadness had settled in, a great wave of guilt washed over his being. while he was here, newly married with a whole life ahead of him, you were somewhere out there living the life you always wanted sad and lonely. too heartbroken to even enjoy it properly. he didn't deserve it, the comfort and security his new marriage gave him, he didn't deserve it. 

 jeongguk was merely seventeen when he fell in love with a sixteen year old ___ all the while he dated yoona, her older sister. he’d known them practically his whole life and it was such a small town that it was simply impossible for you not to know anyone and everyone. everyone went to the same schools and hardly anyone moved out of the godforsaken town. he and yoona started dating in the sixth grade. much too young to be dating but their families were long time friends and saw it appropriate for the two to start early. so that one day the two families would unite. jeongguk hadn’t minded at first. he was eleven at the time but yoona had always been a good friend. they played together all the time so nothing really changed except for the frequent hugs and occasional kiss on the cheek.

 as they grew older they graduated into more mature ways of affection but it never bothered him too much. though he was friends with yoona, he was always closer to ___. sure at first, he had trouble expressing but afterward never once did they ever feel reserved towards one another, only ever honest with every bit of their being.  while yoona was more reserved and occasionally bratty, ___ was outspoken and adventurous. always willing to try something new even if it wasn't exactly encouraged. she never shied away from speaking her mind and that was something jeongguk always aspired to be. she was everything he wasn’t.  she expressed herself in every possible way. hair color was constantly changing since the start of high school. she pulled off any type of style you could think of. you could pick her out of any crowd in an instant. she painted, wrote poems and songs, sang, played various instruments, even took up photography. she turned any type of art form into a way for people to understand her, every single part of her. she was good at so many things and jeongukk, jeongukk was good at one thing. basketball. yet she never made him feel bad about it, instead she went to every game. cheering him on. she was mesmerizing in every single way. 

 while they had their good moments, yoona had a knack of patronizing him for every fault and imperfection. when they started high school she had tried so hard to be looked at as the perfect couple. she made it a point to show that they ‘never fought’ and were always ‘happy’. he never spent too much time with his friends because ‘every boyfriend had to put his girlfriend first’. this is the exact reason jimin never liked her and why jin always referred to her as a pain in the ass. it was safe to say his friends weren't exactly fond of her either. she was so different from ___ which was good or bad, depending on who you were asking. 

yoona was pretty, though jeongguk would say ___ was prettier. soft features, soft personality, light colors were a constant, skirt never too short, hair never too long. she was a straight line kind of girl like the majority of girls in town. grades never faltering. she always believed in the whole study hard, get a good job, have kids plan everyone stuck to and it was always so suffocating. 

he wanted more out of life, he wanted to explore places, explore himself. he wanted to get to know himself in more ways than one because he had yet to know all of it. all of him. but by the time he was sixteen, jeongguk already had a career to work towards and a girl everyone was so sure would be his wife. it was like his life was a book and everyone but him was the author. he had no control and he started to dread the future. he was running and he knew what would be at the finish line, so he slowed down. while yoona was running full speed, he was jogging at most. he started faking a persona in front of his family and yoona because they simply didn’t get it and they never would. 

when he couldn’t exactly talk to his own girlfriend about his feelings and problems ___ was always there to listen. she was good at that. listening. she never judged, instead always reassuring him that when the time came he’ll know what to do. she had an easygoing way of living and he longed to live like that too. though her mother didn't agree and favored yoona more, she simply took it as it was and cherished what she had for the time being. her love for her mother and sister never faltered even if their love never measured up. ___ had a way of looking at the world that could get her far, far away from here and jeongguk envied that. she said all his feelings were valid and no one should be mad at him for simply feeling. once he had slowed down enough for the once blurry images to become clear, he’d realized that running with yoona was far too tiring and that walking with ___ was far more fulfilling.

 jeongguk was merely seventeen when he fell in love with a sixteen year old ___ and it was the most exhilarating feeling ever. it had started out as just a friend being there for a friend, but one day it turned into something more. they had been out on one for their many infamous nightly drives when they had stopped at a cliff, a pretty view of their small town in sight. pretty lights below and above. the stars were out that night just like them, watching the rest of the world sleep. she’d looked into his eyes, simultaneously looking into his soul. with anyone else, he would’ve felt naked and exposed but with her, he wanted her to see everything and to understand everything. he realized he only ever wanted one person to do that and he wanted to express it in the best way possible. he kissed her. really kissed her and she didn't shy away. he knew it was wrong, they both did, but it felt so good. so good that it felt right. right there, in the back of jeongguk’s first car, clothes disappeared one by one and they wrote love poems into the bareness of their skin. so passionate, so raw that it was impossible to stop afterward. they did it again and again behind closed doors, behind the curtain they drew in the depths of night. it was nothing they ever felt before. when they weren’t tangled within each other they explored as much as the city would let them. talking about anything and everything. no boundaries. 

___ planned on leaving once she graduated, didn’t know where to but the farther the better. she hated it here and so did he. it made jeongguk sick to even think about a life without her in it. he was selfish, he knows. he had them both and it was very clear which of them he loved more yet it saddened him that the one he favored more would ever leave him here. alone. that was until she asked him to come with. she asked him to run away with her. he swears if he wasn't deeply in love with her then, he was now. of course he said yes. running away and seeing the world with his favorite girl was a dream. a dream he truly wanted to become reality. 

they planned it out. jeongguk and yoona graduated and while ___ finished her final year in high school and yoona stared college, jeongguk took a gap year waiting for ___. waiting for their dream while working jobs here and there, financially preparing. he also took a business internship so that his family would get off his back for working instead of college. it was full proof, even the boys knew. though they thought it was risky, they supported them both. they had grown fond of ___.  they’d both work jobs to add onto their savings and the day after ___ graduated they’d leave and never come back. that was the plan, the dream. and yet they never made it.  

regret. he regretted it so much. the faithful day came but jeongguk didn’t. she waited and waited but he couldn’t do it. he watched from afar, luggage in hand. watch her wait. watched her cry when she realized. he cried with her. he was just so damn scared. a coward is what he was. he was scared of the unknown, something he craved so much and yet he was scared of it. and that's exactly how he felt for ___ at that moment. he craved her so much, loved her so much, and yet he was scared of her. scared that her spontaneous ways would one day be the end of them. he thought of yoona, at least with yoona he knew what he was getting. knew exactly where they’d end up. he wanted certainty and that's why he watched her leave. but to his surprise, she didn't leave, not yet. she stayed and waited, waited long enough for everyone else to find out. she was then branded as a little slut that wanted a taste of the forbidden fruit, the one he didn't choose. it was far from the truth but its what everyone believed. and so she left far far away and he didn't chase after her. god did he regret it. every day since that day he’s felt nothing but regret. he was back to putting the mask on trying to appease everyone. surprisingly no one reprimanded him and for that he felt anger, anger he’d only felt towards himself.

___ was the love of his life so it hurt. it hurt to see that she didn’t think of herself like he did. he wasn't aware she felt that way. like she was in yoona’s shadow. to him, it had never been like that because she’d been the one he sought to look at first in every room. it hurt to see she thought so low of herself but you could say he wasn't any better. he was newly married and yet he was miserable. it had only been a few months since he and yoona got married and people were already asking when they were having a baby. straight out of college and things were moving so fast. he was nauseated and lived life in such a lethargic manner. he needed her. 

she said she still loved him. maybe it wasn’t too late. maybe he could turn things around and fulfill the dream they never reached. so he picks up the phone and dialed the number he used to call every night. it was so familiar that he didn’t need to think twice about it.

it rang once, twice, and finally, on the third ring, she answered.

“gukk?”

he cried at the sound of her voice. he missed her so much. after a while, he could hear soft sniffling from the other line.

“can i come home?” he asked, voice so hoarse it hurt.

“you are home… aren’t you?” voice strained, sounding confused.

“no no, you’re my home ___. i need to come home. “

with that jeongguk couldn’t help but cry harder.

“shhh shhh gukk, it's ok. everything will be ok.” she cooed familiar words he hadn’t heard in a while. “ok, come home. come to me baby.”

he booked the first flight he could as soon as she said where she was and packed up as much as he could. he was gonna stop living this lie and start living for himself. something he should have done four years ago. and in a few hours, that’s exactly what he was gonna do. live the life he dreamed of with her, no holding back. he needed to stop being afraid. he was on his way, without a care in the world. jeongguk loved ___ and ___ loved him. that's all that mattered.

he’d send the divorce papers over tomorrow.

[ghostly-cabbage]

Frigid (Chapter 1)

Danny Phantom fanfic

Genre: Horror, Angst, Enemies to Friends

Fic Rating: M (Language, Underage Drug Use, Violence and Gore)

Summary: Wes and his brother Kyle have just moved to Amity Park. Wes is only worried about fitting in, but all the ghost nonsense is making that harder and harder. Something weird is going on in this place, and his chemistry lab partner is no different. Seriously, what the hell was up with the Fenton kid and why did everyone ignore it?

Danny is a junior in high school, and pressure is squeezing in on all sides. Keeping good enough grades to graduate, and dealing with the snoopy new kid wasn't bad enough, but he's starting to feel like his parents are getting closer to figuring out his secret. Jazz is off at college and he didn't realize just how helpful it was when she was home to cover for him.

Danny's been able to keep his secret at school for one reason, and that's that no one cares to watch him close enough to connect the dots. Wes is different.

AO3   FFN

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"The air is different here," Wes said, looking up at the swath of stars across the sky. Kyle exhaled a plume of smoke that clouded the view. 

"Shit. Don't get all poetic on me now." Kyle coughed his way into a laugh and Wes kicked his shin just hard enough to hurt. 

"Ow!" 

"Shut up dude, I mean it's colder here. More humid or something too." 

"Yeah, definitely nothing like home." Kyle swung his legs back and forth off the brow of the roof. "How was your first day of school btdubs?" He offered Wes the joint pinched between his fingers. Wes waved him off. 

"Thrilling, nothin' like being the new kid," he said.  

Kyle shrugged and took another hit.

“‘S not so bad, my day was chill,” he croaked out while trying to keep his breath held in. 

Wes scrunched his nose at the smell. “Jesus dude, that stuff smells worse than normal.” 

“Yeah—” he puffed out the cloud of smoke “—the shit here isn’t as good. Missin’ that green triangle right about now.” Kyle let out a wistful sigh. Wes almost wanted to ask how he’d found a dealer already, but it was Kyle. He always found someone. It was like his supernatural ability to sniff out someone who’d sell to minors.

 “Anyway, basketball tryouts are at the end of the week, right? Cheer up my man, you’ll get mad chicks once you make the team.” Wes shot him a glare. Getting chicks was the last thing on his mind. He was more preoccupied with the fact their dad uprooted their entire lives to move to fucking Illinois. Illinois!

“Whatever dude.” There was a brief silence, before Kyle bumped his shoulder into him. He took another deep drag off his joint, the static burn filling the air like white noise. The stars continued to glimmer coldly in the sky, and it sent a pang of homesickness through him. It was bullshit. 

“Any classes you like?” 

“Psh. Hardly… Well. There’s a photography class—” 

“Didn’t you mention something about chem at lunch?” 

“Oh. That.” Wes started to get angry just thinking about it. “Yeah. Chemistry two. Apparently we have to have a lab partner for the whole semester. Which wouldn't be a big deal but I got stuck paired with a dude that’s ‘banned for life’ from using the chem equipment.” He used his fingers for the air quotes. “So I’m probably gonna have to do everything.”

Kyle took a breath like he was about to say something, but Wes pressed on. “What the hell do you even have to do to get banned for life from using the chemistry stuff?” 

“Dude! Maybe your partner got busted for making drugs! That Breaking Bad kinda shit! That’d get him banned fer sure fer sure.” His words slurred around the edges.

Wes almost laughed. “You’re high Kyle. If you saw him you’d understand. This guy isn’t a drug lord, trust me, he’s a twig. No way he’d be involved in anything dangerous. If that guy does anything more exciting than video games I’d eat your hat.” 

Kyle gasped. “Brooo!” 

“What?”

“Somthin’ to eat sounds wicked. Wanna swing by that... Nasty place, what’zit called? We saw it on the way in.” 

Wes rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh. 

“Nasty Burger?”

“Nasty Burger!”

“As a majority of you are aware, it’s a new school year, which means as per new school district regulation it’s time to report to the gym for the annual ghost safety course, and later today at an unspecified time there will be a ghost drill.” Mr. Lancer droned at the front of the class. The other students around Wes all groaned like they’d been assigned a pop quiz, rather than that being the most batshit crazy thing they’d ever heard. Uh, what the hell? He raised his hand. 

“Yes, Mr. Weston.” 

“Did... you just say ghost safety course?” Kids around him chuckled and shared knowing looks. It was like he was on the other side of an inside joke.   

“Regrettably so, Mr. Weston. Everyone single file to the gym please. Leave your bags here, you’ll be back before the third period,” Lancer said as he gestured to the door. Wes stayed sitting for a few seconds longer than the class, trying to make sense of what he’d just heard. Ghosts? Like actual ghosts? 

“Hey, Fenturd, can’t wait to see how your parents fuck it up this year!” Wes turned towards the back of the classroom to see a tall broad shouldered guy, Dash if he remembered right, shoving past Danny Fenton, AKA his chem lab partner. Danny lurched to the side, stumbling into a desk. There were two other kids that Wes hadn’t seen before standing behind Danny, a goth girl and a dweeby kid in a beret.

“Bro, I still have the picture on my phone from when they couldn’t get Mr. Fenton out of that ghost netting,” said an equally massive asian guy. The small knot of kids around them all laughed and filed past Danny and his presumed friends. Danny was glaring daggers at the back of Dash’s head. 

So… Danny’s parents were the guest speakers, and they were giving a talk on... ghost safety… Seriously, did anything here make sense? Wes followed after the crowd, trying to wrap his head around it. The odd trio started following a few paces back.

“Great. Just what I need to kick off the year again,” Wes heard Danny grumble. 

“Oh come on Danny, It wasn’t that bad,” the goth girl said. 

“Nah, it was pretty bad.” 

“Tucker!” 

“What?!”  

Wes tried to continue listening to their conversation but the person in front of him turned around to look at him. 

“You’re the new kid right?” She asked. She had long blonde hair and perfect makeup. 

“Uh, yeah. Wes.” 

“I hear you’re trying out for the basketball team, right?” A few of the popular kids walking in front of her glanced over their shoulders to look at Wes.

“Y-yeah. I was point guard on my last team back home.” 

“I don’t know what that means.” She tossed a lock of hair behind her shoulder. Her eyes were burning into him like she was personally judging where he fit into the social caste system of the school.  “But good luck. I’m Star, by the way. My boyfriend’s on the football team so don’t get any ideas.”  

“Oh please Star, you’re like, totally out of his league, basketball team or not,” a new voice cut in from just in front of Star. Another girl with dark wavy hair turned to look at him. She had dark olive skin, almond eyes and thick eyelashes. “I’m Paulina, but I’m sure you’ve heard all about me already. People are kind of obsessed with me, they can’t help it.” She said it with a smile and a cute giggle to punctuate her sentences. He’d seen her in homeroom yesterday, and he knew right off the bat she was top of the hierarchy, her and Dash both seemed to have a pretty solid hold on their popularity. If he was going to survive here he needed to make sure they liked him, or at the very least had nothing bad to say about him. 

“I can see why, it’s nice to meet you,” he said. The two girls shared a look, shrugged and turned their attention away from him. 

He let go of the breath he’d been holding, feeling like he’d just passed some sort of test.  He’d never exactly been a popular kid. In elementary school he was small and easy to pick on. Unless Kyle was around, who had a nonchalant courage about him, even as a kid. It’d taken a lot of work for Wes to figure out how to fit in just under the radar of the big fish. 

He stepped into the bustling gym along with the rest of the Junior homeroom class. The bleachers were pulled out, and the class dispersed to find their place to sit. Wes bobbed his head over the shoulders of other students looking for Kyle. It took some work but eventually his eyes landed on his brother. He was lounging, taking up two seats worth of space on the far left side of the bleachers. He made a beeline for him, and took the stairs two at a time. The clamor of the student body filled the room, and when he sat down he had to speak over it. 

“Dude, can you believe this? A ghost assembly?” His brother had never been the most believing of the supernatural. But this place, openly acknowledging the presence of ghosts? He’d like to see Kyle try and refuse to believe now. 

“Yeah man! This school must really love Halloween.” 

And there it was. 

“Kyle. It’s September.” 

“And? Bro they got the Halloween decorations up at wally-world already, why not have a fun Halloween thing?” Wes frowned, and clicked his tongue. He propped his chin against his hand and watched as the school started to settle. His eyes wandered the rows until he found the goth girl. Danny and the kid she’d called Tucker were with her. They were sitting in the section over a row down. Danny had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his black NASA hoodie, and a pinched look on his face. He couldn’t exactly say he blamed the kid, the thought of his own dad showing up to give a presentation made him shiver in horror. 

They’d set up a stage in the center of the gym. Principal Ishiyama stepped up to the podium, and tapped the mic. 

“Hello students of Casper High! For incoming freshmen, allow me to officially extend a warm welcome, and to all returning students, welcome back!” She was way too chipper for the time of morning. “As many of you know we have to review some safety precautions. Now, this may not be new information but I expect you all to pay attention and be respectful regardless. With that, allow me to introduce local ghost experts: Jack and Maddie Fenton.” Ishiyama moved back, clapping for the guests. The crowd gave mixed reactions. Most people looked like they were only applauding out of awkwardness. Wes was definitely included in that category. 

A man and woman with brightly colored… jumpsuits? Hazmat suits? Whatever they were, came forward. The man was intimidating from the pure size of him alone. Jesus christ, he looked like a NFL linebacker. Next to him, was a slight and fit woman. She spoke first, standing at the podium. 

“Good morning everyone! My husband and I are honored to be welcomed back to run through the safety course with you kids!” Mrs. Fenton was peppy and direct with the way she spoke and the way she moved. “As of last year the manual ghost alarms were installed around the school.” Maddie motioned to the projector screen behind her that had been lowered from the ceiling. “As you can see here.” The picture on the projector showed huge red buttons ringed by yellow and black caution trim. Wes had seen them around before, but he’d figured they were for... tornados or something, they had those here right?

“If you see a ghost you are encouraged to press this button so that the school can evacuate and the correct professionals may be notified.” 

“By that she means us!” Mr. Fenton shouted, popping up in front of the projector. She moved on as if the interruption hadn’t even happened. 

“Whatever you do, do not engage with a ghost. Ghosts are highly dangerous. Even a low level ecto-entity can be a threat to your life and well-being!” Her voice was grave, and practically oozed with conviction. Wes looked over at Kyle, gesturing towards the stage, incredulous. 

“Really? Nothing to say about this?”

“What can I say, they’re pretty dedicated. Dude, Wes, it might be an ARPG, like remember the Halo 2 ‘I love bees' thing?”

“I hate you. This isn’t even anything close to—” 

“Shh!” Someone who sounded like a teacher hissed at them. He turned his attention back to the presentation, annoyed. 

“Now, let’s go over what to do if you think you’ve been possessed or otherwise overshadowed by a ghost! First thing to look for are gaps in memory or consciousness. Changes in mood or violent tendencies can also occur. Keep an eye on your friends and loved ones. Remember that no one is immune to being overshadowed by a ghost, unless you purchase a Fenton Specter Deflector available on our website!” Almost out of nowhere, the woman pulled out what looked like a metal belt. There was silence in response, and she cleared her throat. 

“If you or someone you know has been or is currently possessed please seek help immediately, go to your teachers or parents.” Wes watched as she moved on to the next subject, talking with the fervor and simplicity of an expert. Screw whatever Kyle said, this wasn’t just for shits and giggles or some halloween event. Something was different here. The other students, despite seeming bored, looked like they fully believed her. Maybe people here would actually believe him about what happened when he was a kid. 

The hazy memories crept along his skin, making the hair on his arms stand on end. His dad told him he had an active imagination. He knew it wasn’t that.

“Finally, let’s go over what to do if a ghost fight breaks out!” 

“A ghost fight?” he echoed, brows furrowing. 

“As we’ve said, do not engage or interact with ghosts for any reason—”

“Hey, what about Phantom?” Someone from the crowd shouted. A murmur of agreement rippled through the students. 

“Who’s Phantom?” He wondered out loud, and a guy sitting in front of him turned to give him an affronted look. 

“We strongly discourage interacting with Phantom especially! When it comes to ghosts, it’s simple. There are no good ghosts! Ghosts are ectoplasmic post-human impressions driven only by their obsession! They are not human and don’t care about the havoc they wreak.”  

The crowd murmured again, the disapproval evident. A few kids shouted unintelligible things, but they sounded defensive. Wes didn’t get it, the Fenton lady seemed to know her shit, why argue? 

“Quiet! Quiet please!” Ishiyama called over the voices. Eventually the students settled, and the Fentons wrapped up their presentation. Everyone seemed disappointed that nothing embarrassing happened, until Mr. Fenton underestimated the height of the stage, and face planted onto the gym floor. The students broke into an uproar of laughter, and Ishiyama rushed to the mic to dismiss everyone back to homeroom. Wes couldn’t hold back a laugh, and glanced over to see Danny hunching up his shoulders. If Wes had to describe someone that looked like they wanted to disappear, it would be Danny in that moment. 

The walk back to the classroom was uneventful, though he was pretty sure he heard Mrs. Fenton repeatedly calling out “Danny sweetie!” Wes was really glad he wasn’t that poor bastard, talk about humiliating. He tried to ignore the pang that twisted inside his stomach. Still, it must be nice to have a mom around. 

Fifth period started in four minutes, and Wes was stuck fiddling with the lock on his locker. The damn thing looked like it’d been fished off the titanic. The wheel made an awful squealing noise when he twisted it, and even when the lock popped, he had to yank on it to get it to unlatch all the way. He put in his combo for the third time and pulled. It came undone and if it weren’t for holes on the handle he’d have gone stumbling backwards. He opened the locker and was just about to grab his History textbook, when an ear splitting alarm blasted from the overhead speakers. He jumped and spun around, hands coming up to cover his ears. 

It wasn’t like a fire alarm, instead of the shrill school bell ringing, it was a long whooping siren that echoed up and down the halls like a nuclear strike was incoming. Wes had to hand it to them, it sounded creepy as fuck. The emergency lights flashed in the hallways, and the kids around him started to make for the exits.  

“Your attention please,” an automated female voice came over the speaker, offering  a brief respite from the siren. “A ghost has been sighted in the building. Please evacuate or get to safety as soon as possible.” Holy shit, was this really happening? The siren began its wailing again. His heart thundered in his chest, and he looked both ways up and down the hall. He didn’t see anything, except for Lancer standing at the end of the hall, directing students to an emergency exit. Wes remembered then that Lancer had said something about a “ghost drill”. Of course that’s what this was. Just a drill. Wes let out a shaky breath, and went to close up his locker before he headed out. 

Which in retrospect wasn’t the greatest idea. In less than a second, something changed. The hall felt darker, and the air grew cold. Not cold like someone left the window open, cold like he’d just walked into a meat freezer. It prickled against his skin, and he felt a deep sense of dread sink to the bottom of his stomach. 

“Little lamb…” Murmured a soft voice. It echoed up the hall, and Wes forced himself to turn and look. He shouldn’t have, he really shouldn’t have. It was the shape of a woman, but she was floating a foot off the ground. She had stringy hair, and bangs that partially covered her empty eyes. In her hand looked like a shepherd's crook. Wes slammed his back against his locker, his knees locking up. He felt his hands start to tremble. Not again, he didn’t want the nightmares again.

The hall was empty, the last few terrified kids were gone. 

“Little lamb... separated from the herd… Don’t you know there’s predators?” Her voice echoed unnaturally, it’s clarity sending chills across his skin. She was hardly speaking above a whisper, but it was rough and cracked, like something had happened to her voice. But the thing that was worse was even at barely a whisper, he could somehow hear her over the sirens. Like she was right next to him breathing the words into his ears. 

The alarm cut out and the automated message looped. The woman—ghost lifted her crook to point at him. “Little lambs have to come back home,” she said. The sound of panting and low growling filled the hall. A green shape, low and lean flew out from behind her. It closed the gap between them in three strides flat. It’s eyes glowed red, and white teeth slavered toxic green. Wes’ voice stuck in his throat and he couldn’t scream, he squeezed his eyes shut and hoped he’d wake up.

Wes felt the air stir in front of him, and he heard a meaty crunch followed by a deafening caterwaul. His eyes flashed open to see the mountain lion-like creature picking itself up off the ground on the other side of the hall. And directly in front of him, it was another human shape, another ghost. They had white hair and a black jumpsuit on. 

“Bad kitty! What, did someone forget the catnip?” It was a guy’s voice that echoed around the hall. The shape cast a glance over his shoulder at Wes. He gulped down a breath, it was a boy about his age. His eyes glowed the same neon toxic green that painted the hall in its supernatural light. He looked like he was about to say something, when the big cat hurled itself at his flank. Its massive front paws slammed into his midsection and they disappeared into the wall. 

The shepherd moved towards him, and Wes felt like he was going to pass out or throw up. Maybe both, both sounded okay. She was focused entirely on him as she drifted over the floor. She was four feet away, and the expression etched onto her dead face made his stomach twist. This was worse, this was way worse than even the nightmares. Her empty eyes leaked tears. 

“It’s dangerous. There’s predators.” She lifted a hand like she was trying to reach for him. A blast of green light suddenly filled his vision, and the girl let out a scream. She was slammed backwards into a set of lockers and she slipped down to the ground. Wes’ gaze snapped to where the blast of energy had come from and saw the ghost boy. He was floating six feet off the ground, and his right hand was glowing green. He had a long deep slash across his side that was oozing and dripping globby green ectoplasm. 

“I’ve never seen you before,” he said. “What do you want?” his tone of voice was firm and sharp, it felt like ice. The girl looked up at the boy. She opened her mouth and screamed. It was a raw terrible thing that petered off into an agonized gurgle. The ghost boy arched a brow, but before he could say anything else the Shepherd melted into the wall. 

“Shit,” the ghost puffed. He turned his eyes to Wes and he stiffened again. Right, he wasn’t exactly out of the woods yet. “You must be new here. Piece of advice, run away next time, okay dude?” The ghost boy looked up at the ceiling that still had the alarms blaring and rolled his eyes. In the next instant he shot through the wall where the shepherd ghost had disappeared. 

Wes let out a breath and sunk to the floor, shivering from head to toe. What the hell was that?    

[allthebooksandcrannies]

Dana Has Enough- Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Read Ch 1 

Every once in a while, even the people you know best manage to surprise you. What Dana really ought to have remembered, however, was that no one ever said those surprises were always pleasant.  And it wasn’t just that Jack had forgotten his son’s birthday that really was so upsetting to Dana. No, the worst part was when Tim came down that morning and was obviously so unsurprised that his dad didn’t remember.

 Dana had worked so hard to give Jack the benefit of the doubt when he and Tim fought. She knew that Jack had been ashamed of not spending enough time with Tim when he was little. He had talked about it all the time during his physical therapy appointments after he woke up from the coma. Back thenm he had been so excited about all his plans to be a better father, and she had believed him. But at some point, they had grown complacent and fallen back into old patterns.

 Dana had been concerned about Tim and Jack for a while now but had stayed out of it because she wasn’t Tim’s mom. She wasn’t his parent, and it didn’t feel like her place to interfere in how Jack raised his son. But she would be damned if she let a child feel forgotten on his birthday.

Now, listening to Tim gush over some of the better photography exhibits he had seen at the museum before, but how he hadn’t had found time to see this one yet, Dana was really glad she had taken the time last night to do some last minute research into potential activities to do today.  It had been harder than she expected to find something she was confident Tim would like. She had realized she had almost no idea what Tim was interested in, what he did with his free time. It had been an embarrassing realization to come to about someone she lived with.  She had been almost ready to give up when she remembered the museum exhibit one of her college friends had posted about on Facebook the week before. She hadn’t even known that Tim had a camera like that when she decided to invite him, just remembering how obviously interested he was every time the news had anything to say about the Justice league or Gotham’s rotating roster of vigilantes.

 She needed to do better. This kid deserved it.

 She was almost disappointed when she finally pulled the car into the museum parking lot because she had never seen Tim this animated before.  He had moved on from past exhibits to some of his favorite photographers to explaining just why it was so hard to get good superhero photos, particularly of nocturnal vigilantes and why this exhibit was such a big deal, but he pulled himself up short when the car came to a stop. Dana was honestly surprised his teeth didn’t make an audible clicking sound, he shut his mouth so quickly. She turned to Tim in the passenger seat.

 “You okay, Tim?”

 He looked startled by the question, and a little sheepish too. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to talk your ear off like that.” Tim didn’t meet her eyes. That wasn’t going to work.

 “Don’t worry about it, kiddo.  I thought it was really interesting. I had no idea that so much work went into trying to photograph superheroes, especially as art.”

 “Oh, okay.” Dana didn’t think she was imagining the little smile on Tim’s face.

 “C’mon, let’s go inside.”

 ---

 Once inside the exhibit, it was like Tim forgot Dana was there, he was so focused on each piece. To Dana, they were just photos of superheroes. Really cool photos of superheroes, of course, but she was sure she was missing some deeper layers of meaning that were obvious to the more art savvy patrons around her.  She started wandering around the exhibit.

 She stopped in front of a large photo blown up in front on a massive canvas. It was obviously taken in Gotham, with a camera that probably had a great zoom feature if the subject matter was any indication.  Standing in the light of a burning building was a little girl, no more than five years old. But what really made this one standout was the man in a domino mask crouched down in front of her, a red helmet at his side and one hand offering a lollipop to the kid.

 Dana wasn’t sure what made her stand there so long.  Maybe it was how calm the child looked in front of a man that scared the majority of Gotham adults. Maybe it was the realization that the Red Hood didn’t look all that much older than Tim. Practically a child himself. Dana stood there, just staring at those two children until she heard a quiet click beside her.

 Startled, she looked to the side at the child next to her. Tim was focused on the camera screen, probably reviewing the photo he snuck, until he met her gaze with a crooked grin. “Sorry.” Something told Dana he wasn’t really that sorry. “I just really wanted to capture the look on your face.”

 Dana rolled her eyes playfully. “Well, on that not-at-all creepy note I’m going to go look at some other photos.” Tim acquiesced. And she left him focused on the Red Hood with a strange expression of his own on his face.

 Thinking she ought to let Tim enjoy the exhibit for a minute, she decided to swing by the giftshop. After all, at this point she could practically guarantee Jack hadn’t gotten the kid anything. Maybe they’d have something he’d like.  

 ---

 About five minutes later, Dana was incredibly frustrated. Why was everything so gimmicky? Almost everything in here was so obviously touristy, which, honestly, was patently ridiculous. What tourists were coming to Gotham. That’s what Metropolis was for.

 Then she saw it. Yes, that would be perfect.

 ---

 If Tim had questions about what was in the plastic bag with the GMA’s logo on it when Dana rejoined him, he didn’t ask them. Honestly, that was probably a symptom of a bigger problem, but Dana was going to leave that for another day.  

 Instead she just stood next to Tim as he examined the info tag next to a photo of Nightwing mid-backflip from one roof to another while Robin jumped after him with significantly less fanfare.

 ---

 We really should do this more often, Dana thought as she watched Tim wave his hands around, sweeping gestures helping him tell some story about his friend Cassie trying to walk him and two other boys through her mother’s brownie recipe and it going terribly, terribly wrong.  

 Tim was actually a pretty good story teller once you got him going, and he seemed to relish the opportunity to talk about his friends to someone who didn’t know them. She had already gotten a thirty minute lecture on what made each of them so great and so exasperating, and Dana had had to hide her smile in her burger when he spent more time than he had on both Bart and Cassie combined on describing this Connor. The obliviousness here was probably the universe’s way of balancing out Tim’s genius because wow was Dana realizing just how brilliant this kid was.  She had always known he was smart but it broke her heart to think that she had been missing so much of who this kid was for so long.

 She wondered whether playboy Bruce Wayne realized just how wonderful Tim was. If the Waynes had always known Tim better than his actual family. If the way Tim talked about them was any indication, they probably did.  She wondered if Tim would rather still be living with them. If he had ever let himself ask that question.

 But if he didn’t want to go there, Dana wasn’t going to make him.

 “So, were you able to get the mix off the ceiling?”

 Dana was quickly learning not to trust Tim’s “innocent” expression.

 “Of course we did,” he grinned, “just not before it dripped all in Dick’s hair.”  If Dick Grayson ever asked, Dana most certainly did not laugh so hard she choked on a french fry.

 ---

 When Tim tentatively asked if Dana would like to come to dinner at Wayne Manor with him as she dropped him off to meet up with his friends, she was far more hesitant to accept than she would have been even a day before.  On the one hand, it was Wayne Manor. No one got a private invitation to Wayne Manor, and she had been curious about these people that had taken Tim in for so long. But, she couldn’t help but feel like she’d be an intruder. Against her better judgment, she said yes.

 ---

 It was strange to go to dinner somewhere without Jack. She really needed to get out more, regardless of how Jack felt.  She tried to suppress the feeling of not belonging as she fiddled with the hem of her two-year-old blouse as she waited in front of the ornate wooden door. As she squeezed the painstakingly wrapped package in her arms, she tried to bring in a deep breath. This was fine. Everything was fine. Tim had asked her here, hadn’t he? Of course, he may have only been trying to be polite…

 She wasn’t able to go any farther down that path, however, before the door was unceremoniously yanked open to reveal Tim grinning straight at her. When did he get so tall?

 “Dana! You made it!” He didn’t ask where Jack was, which was good because Dana didn’t want to tell Tim his dad was sulking because Dana refused to try to comfort him in his guilt over forgetting his sons birthday again. Shaking unpleasant thoughts out of her head Dana grinned straight back, handing Tim the gift she had bought that afternoon.

 “Of course, I did! You didn’t think I’d miss Mr. Pennyworth’s cooking after hearing you talk it up all day?” Mentioning Alfred Pennyworth was apparently the right call because it clearly reminded Tim that he was supposed to step away from the door if he wanted her to be able to come in and he quickly backed up, present in hand.

 Dana followed him into the house, and then towards what could only be described as a cacophony of noise.  Several voices were busy talking over each other even though she couldn’t make out any of the words. Tim seemed quite amused by her trepidation to actually walk through the door to the dining room. Rude.

 ---

 The introductions hadn’t been nearly as awkward as she’d feared. Granted, she’d gotten appraising looks from just about everyone in the room and it had gotten a little tense, but everyone had been polite. Dana had been guided to a spot to the left of Mr. Wayne’s seat at the head of the table and directly across from Mr. Pennyworth, and she had to admit that neither of them had really been what she expected.  

 Pennyworth had waited to join them until after he had brought out the meal, and it was some of the best food she had ever tasted by far.  He was also hilarious, which was the unexpected bit. Dana had been prepared for a formal British gentleman, and he was that. But Dana had not been ready to watch him sass the richest man in Gotham twice in the first ten minutes of the meal. She now understood why Tim said Alfred was really the one in charge.

 Meanwhile, Mr. “Call me Bruce, Dana, I insist!” Wayne was unerringly polite, but there was a quiet sort of intensity about him that was not apparent in the stories told in the society pages. If there wasn’t so much blatant fondness on his face when he glanced at the playfully arguing kids at the other end of the table, she might’ve called him intimidating.

 The kids, on the other hand, were everything Tim had said they were, and Dana couldn’t be happier. Dick Grayson had been mercilessly teasing Tim and the other chattering kids, perfectly playing the embarrassing older brother while making sure that no one was left out or overly picked on. As for the other children, she had also been introduced to the infamous Cassie, Bart and Connor she’d heard so much about at lunch followed by a purple-clad blonde. Tim’s cheeks had been bright pink when he’d introduced Stephanie as his girlfriend. Interesting…

 Dana didn’t really know where she fit into the clearly well-established dynamic of the group, but that was okay. She was here to make sure that Tim had people in his life who understood just how special he was, and these people seemed to understand that even better than Dana. Again, today was one humbling experience after another.

 ---

 Dana was embarrassingly nervous when Tim picked up her gift last.  Everyone else’s gifts had seemed so meaningful, and there had been a plethora of inside jokes involved. Plus, she had the uncomfortable feeling that everyone was treating this as a sort of test, to see if she really deserved to be here, to be around someone like Tim, and were waiting to find her wanting. Maybe she was being ridiculous, but damn if her heart wasn’t pounding anyway.

 Tim opened the present slowly, to the consternation of the red-headed kid, Bart her mind supplied, who let out a comically loud groan of impatience.  Finally, Tim pealed the last of the tape back and unfolded the last of the paper, pulling out the book within.

 Dana felt the room go still as he opened it up to the middle, allowing the rest of the room to see the cover.  It seemed like everyone turned to look at her in perfect unison, and she was hit with the impression that she had made a serious mistake.

 “I just- You were talking about how hard it was to find good photos of the Gotham vigilantes, so…”

 When Dana had seen the book claiming to be a compilation of the best photos of all of the Bats, she had figured he might appreciate it. She’d seen the batman and robin pins on his backpack after all. But the way everyone was looking at her, she was beginning to wonder if she had made a mistake, that is until… 

“Well,” drawled Dick Grayson. “Timmy does love his Batman pictures.” And the room dissolved into laughter at a joke Dana didn’t understand. All of a sudden, everyone was talking over each other, telling various Tim stories, as the boy in question carefully paged through the book in silence. He paused for a long time on a recent image of Robin and Spoiler flying overhead.  

No, Dana thought with a smile, she might not understand all of the inside jokes, but she understood the silent thank you Tim sent over everyone else’s heads just fine, and that was enough for her.

[stclla]

hello loves! my name is bri and i’m so excited to get the chance to write with all of your beautiful muses ♡ i just turned 24 (ew), my pronouns are she/her, and my timezone is est (luckily i live about an hour outside of nyc, and plan to move there permanently in 2021 yay !!!) 

tbh it’s been at least a year since my last rp group and i’m a little rusty, so pls feel free to share your tips and lmk how i’m doing :) my writing style is pretty flexible and i match length, pov, etc. and now !! a little bit of info about my beautiful chaotic bby stella:

ABOUT.

estelle “stella” celestine evans was spotted in the fashion district adorning gucci ankle boots , with some airpod pros on . they’re most likely listening to heat waves by glass animals . you may know them as @stella or as that sydney sweeney lookalike . their twenty-second birthday just passed . while living in the upper east side , they’ve gained a bit of a reputation . they’re known to be reckless but on the other hand warmhearted . wonder if they’ll be the next person to hit the headlines .

BASIC INFO.

Full Name: Estelle Celestine Evans

Nickname(s): Stella

Age: 22

Date of Birth: August 4, 1998

Sun Sign: Leo

Moon Sign: Cancer

Rising Sign: Scorpio

Hometown: Beverly Hills, CA

Current Location: Upper East Side, NY

Gender: Cis female

Pronouns: She/her

Orientation: Pansexual

Political Affiliation: Liberal

Occupation: Supermodel, socialite, influencer

Career Highlights: Victoria’s Secret Angel, high fashion runways, print & editorial work, music video appearances, photography, art direction

Goals/Passions: Photography, art direction, fashion design, makeup, social media

Career Claim: Gigi Hadid

BIOGRAPHY.

When your mom’s a legendary supermodel and your dad is a smooth talking Hollywood talent agent, it’s safe to say that you were probably born with a silver spoon in your mouth. But don’t you dare say that shit to Stella Evans. Although she definitely enjoyed the finer things in life growing up and was practically gifted a spot in wealthy elite by her parents, Stella likes to believe that she did it all herself. And underneath it all - the glitz and the glam and the money and the flashing lights - maybe she actually did.

While this blonde haired, blue eyed beauty might be the spitting image of her mother with a few (okay, a lot) more extra curves, Stella tries to distance herself from her family heritage as much as possible. It started in kindergarten when she renamed herself. After all, being named after the notorious Estelle Evans doesn’t make you a lot of friends when you’re five. It makes you the subject of ridicule from your peers, and makes your teachers treat you as if you were the one posing topless in Italian Vogue. And when your mother made you model for a big Baby Guess modeling campaign at the age of 2, kids tended to talk. So she became Stella. Just Stella.

From then on, she did everything she could to separate herself from her parents. If her parents said to stay in, she went out. If they told her to get good grades, she failed her classes in retaliation. Their attention was all consuming, especially her mother’s. After the once popular cover girl had retired, she turned all of her attention to her daughter. Stella’s modeling work had been paused at the suggestion of her talent agent father, Arthur Evans. He wanted her to focus on school and get an education so she could take over the talent agency one day. But when Estelle and Arthur divorced when Stella was 10 years old, all bets were off.

Her mother hopped from loveless marriage to loveless marriage, dragging Stella along for the ride. Her father moved to the Upper East Side, vowing to see her at Christmas each year, while Stella jetted around the world against her will. 6th and 7th grade in Sweden, 8th grade in London, 9th and 10th grade in Paris. It was a long and lonely adolescence, but Stella filled it with booze, bars, and boys and girls to keep her company. Partying was her only escape. And she was damn good at escaping.

She had her first real relationship when she was 16. He was an older French financier who was content to spoil her rotten and show her a good time. Perhaps too good a time. Stella was introduced to the things that would become her vices - namely, drugs and alcohol. Her mother proved to be overbearing but oblivious. She would do things like criticize her daughter’s makeup, clothing, and body, but be completely unaware that Stella was doing things like snorting coke to get thinner. She’d call her trashy for going out to clubs, then look the other way when Stella would wear a short mini skirt when leaving for “study sessions” at the library. With Stella’s clever wit and electric charisma, it really was too easy. The drugs combined with the alcohol made her feel better because she didn’t really feel anything at all. Plus, if her parents hated partying, then Stella would learn to love it.

Shit hit the fan when Stella was arrested in France. Something about being an accomplice to international drug smuggling and being under the influence of a controlled substance - whatever. 16 year old Stella got off with a slap on the wrist due to her connections, promising to move back to New York with her dad until she was 18 and legal. The Upper East Side was her new home, and weirdly enough, she actually kind of liked it. It was easier to start over in New York, where no one cared about her washed up mother. But they did care about money, wealth, and excess, which Stella was more than an expert in, whether she liked it or not. This made her presence in the New York social scene almost magnetic. People would flock to her, drawn in by her ethereal beauty, effortless charm, and “fuck it all” party girl attitude.

Attention was a dangerous drug for a girl like Stella, who had spent her whole life freeing herself from her mother’s tarnished legacy. And when she had finally done it, had finally succeeded in making people call her “Stella Evans” instead of “Baby Estelle”, it made her wild with reckless abandon. All her new friends and lovers wanted to buy her shots and make her feel good any way she wanted, and it was only polite for Stella to let them do it.

The next few years were filled with exclusive clubs, raucous spring breaks, glamorous yacht parties, champagne kisses with boys and girls, social media notoriety, and juicy headlines that cemented her status as an it-girl. Her modeling career resumed with a promise to her father that she would go to college at the same time. Armed with a golden reputation, endless connections, and natural charisma and talent, Stella began to walk all the major runways and was in talks to appear in Sports Illustrated and Victoria’s Secret. Unlike her mother, she proved that she had both high fashion attitude and sex appeal. Stella was unstoppable.

Until she wasn’t. After a night of drinking and an ill-timed bet that she could parallel park her date’s Range Rover (despite the fact that Stella didn’t have a license to speak of), the police charged her with a DUI. This time, she didn’t get off so easy. Her father pulled as many strings as possible to keep her image clean in the press, but word got out anyway. Fucking instagram.

Faced with the threat of losing her big modeling campaigns, Stella agreed to clean up her image. Think rehab, charity work, inspirational interviews. The whole shebang. And it worked - kind of. It’s hard to navigate a world filled with temptation, but Stella doesn’t know how to survive without the glitz and glamour of the wealthy world. She dropped out of college against her dad’s wishes, officially surrendering herself to the New York social scene. Rich girls have more fun, anyway. But sometimes she hates it and wants to be “normal”. Even so, she knows that she never will be and embraces the beautiful chaos that her life of excess brings to her.

As far as rich kids go, Stella is almost down-to-earth. Kind of. She likes to think that she is, but she’s also the kind of girl who would never be caught dead on the subway. Or a taxi. Black cars and private jets only, please. Underneath it all, Stella wants (and frankly, needs) real connections in her life. People who genuinely care about her and have her best interests at heart are extremely rare, so when Stella lets someone get close to her, they’re with her for life. Her reckless, carefree attitude can definitely get her into trouble, so she can be a handful.

But one of her shining traits is that she doesn’t judge, at least not as openly and viciously as her peers. Stella’s life of wealth and status is definitely ingrained in her, but she is also openminded and accepting. Her friends don’t need to be old money. They just need to be real. You can catch her being the talk of the town in her native Upper East Side, but also vibing with the up and comers in Tribeca. Below the layers of superficiality and obsession with the finer things in life, this supermodel has a heart of gold. But don’t fuck with her. Stella is dangerous and defiant when she wants to be, and nothing can get in the way of her getting what she wants. Even if what she wants could destroy her one day.

*** her bio is still a wip and i’m working on some inspo for wanted connections, but definitely lmk if you have any questions or think stella would be a good fit for connections with your muses ! 

[skinks]

HELLO. DO YOU HAVE ANY SPARE DILFWORTH/MAGGIE HEADCANONS 🥺 (love your writing more than life btw)

HELLO, thank you so much! Oh boy it’s difficult to come up with more stuff for characters you’re really only extrapolating a couple of pages about, but I like a challenge so here are some to build on the other big Maggie/Dilfworth post I made:

- so after the Airplane Incident they’re so engrossed in talking at the baggage claim about everything from music to shitty first jobs that Went misses his bag going around the carousel three times. In his defence Maggie’s laugh is a breathless, staccato sound like a xylophone of breezes and she runs one hand over the back of her head to grip the ends of her own dark hair every time she does, so who can blame him for trying to be his absolute funniest in between grinning like a man who’s won the lottery. Also in his defence, Maggie doesn’t leave after she’s collected hers (they both go to grab it from the carousel at the same time and kinda stare at each other, then at their touching hands. Went licks his lips a couple times and says “Sorry, don’t uh. Don’t misunderstand, I was only trying to steal it,” which makes her laugh again) and Maggie doesn’t leave because she’s busy hinting she’d like him to come visit her on campus some time, maybe next weekend? They exchange their landlines and she says “See you then, Doctor Dentist,” because there’s something about his nonthreatening calmness that makes her feel very bold in trying to ruffle it up.

- their first date is to the movies, because it’s 1971 and what else are you gonna do

- Went has the best poker face she’s ever seen, and she’d already been teasing him about being a dentist so when he asks her what snacks she’d like, she replies with a long list of the sugariest kinds they have. But he only whistles low and raises his eyebrows, sauntering off to the concession stand before she can reel him back. They eat all of it between them, and Went spends the whole movie muttering scathing put-downs about the poor choices the characters keep making and it’s the first time Maggie hasn’t ever cared about being shushed by the people in front of her

- also also also he picked her up in his car (and she’d also teased him about how she’s sure he could only drive a convertible bc he’s so tall and leggy that anything else would leave his knees up by his ears, but it’s not a convertible. It does have a sun-roof though, and after the movie they go driving, as Young People do in 1971 I guess and he’s like “Sorry the roof doesn’t fold down, I know you’d look great doing the whole Audrey Hepburn thing,” and Maggie just eyeballs him as she slides the sun-roof back. Then she’s standing on the bench seat and whooping, sticking her torso out of the roof like it’s a carnival ride and Went’s like 💕😬💕 as he holds her steady with one arm (over her dress, it’s the first date) for her dear, dear life

- I love the idea that Maggie likes sci-fi, for some reason. She loves Star Trek TOS, loves the music, wants to try and obtain a theremin for her thesis project. The first gift Went ever gives her is a signed copy of The Left Hand of Darkness when she takes him to an Ursula LeGuin talk at her college, and Maggie kisses the daylights out of him against a tree right there in the quad

- Went likes fishing and baseball and photography and fuckin... comedy records and he definitely got bullied at school for being a skinny nerd. Doesn’t have too many friends given that he’s moved cities and is generally kinda quiet, but Maggie’s friends like him. More importantly, Maggie likes him a lot, likes the endless antelope stretch of his legs when he props them up on any surface available, the lean lines around his mouth, likes how the veins on the backs of his hands form warm diamonds around the indents of his knuckles, likes that when she says “oh damn, is it raining?” rhetorically in the car at the first few drops, he rolls his window down and sticks his hand out into the wet and says “yes, Maggie, it’s raining. Wipers or no wipers, what’ll it be?” She likes to be the person he trusts enough to be silly and wry and sincere with. She likes to buy him records based purely on the cover art alone, she likes introducing him to classical music and she likes to drive his car so he can look at the maps and stick his head out the roof, and she likes that the wind makes him look like a cartoon blown up with dynamite, because he’s somehow always just in need of a haircut, and she is so, so scared he will be ensnared by the draft now that he’s left academia, as it has ensnared so many of her other friends.

- She makes fun of it, but she likes his name, “I like that Tozier has a z in it, of all things,” she says once. “I don’t know, it’s unusual. I never heard of a Tozier before.” And Went says, “Last of my kind. Like Tigger, in fact. You’re lucky you ever caught me in the wild,” as he very studiously and ineptly investigates her electric keyboard. She calls him Went most of the time, Legs when she’s particularly hot for him, but they do also have a lot of Wentworthy/Unwentworthy jokes.

- the first time they have sex is because they’re six dates deep and Went has yet to hear her sing.

- they’re lying top to toe in Went’s bed while they’re both studying (Went might be practicing dentistry now but he still has paperwork and journals to read) and he’s tapping her crossed ankle along to something she’s humming. “What’s that song? Maggie?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you sing it for me?”

“Oh, no,” she says, covering her face with her book. “No, it’s just some rock song, ignore me. I’m being disruptive to the study environment.”

Went waggles his eyebrows, examining the whole bare sweep of her legs. “That’s for sure. C’mon, you’re minoring in vocal studies, aren’t I going to hear you eventually?”

“Nope,” Maggie grins, and enjoys how warm his hand feels cupping the sleek of her calf muscle. “I’m shy.”

“The Maggie Avery I know isn’t shy, unless I’ve been wooing an impostor for the last nine weeks.”

She laughs and flutters inside, like her whole body is filled with whirling pillowfight feathers at the thought of being wooed, being courted, being allowed to exist as an interesting person and not just a skirt to be chased. At the fact that he knows how long it’s been and that he counts it in weeks, because even though they telephone a bunch, they can still only see each other at the weekends. Yeah, Carole King said it best. He makes her feel like a natural woman, alright.

“Wooing me.” She sets her book aside. “That’s what you’ve been up to?”

“Yes,” he nods, sitting up to mirror her, cross-legged. “Wooing.”

“Wentwooing,” she says, biting her lip. These games always prick up the hairs on the back of her neck.

“Damn straight,” he says, and oh, those dishy lines are breaking in lean waves around his smiling mouth. She’s a total lost cause for them. “Wooing was one of my very first Scout badges, actually.”

“Oh, so you’ve had practice?” She leans away in faux-disinterest, and her breathing picks up from somewhere deep in her body as he sways forward into the gap, like he’s charmed. She’s very aware of her heartbeat in odd places, pinking her bare heels pressed to the sheets under her knees, loud in the scoop of her clavicle. “I’m not the first to be subjected to a little Wentwooing, then, huh.”

“Not the first, no,” he allows, mild and reasonable as ever. No wonder he did well in medical school. She knows she’s not the first girlfriend, of course, just as he knows about her last ex and the others, and that’s the wonderful thing about him. He doesn’t act like other twenty-two year old boys she knows, he’s a grownup about it all. “But... I’d really dig it if you were the last. Maggie.”

She can’t stop smiling at the way he says it. Casual, contemplative, the look of a man who has cast his line and is happy to wait. It’s belied by the sound of him compulsively cracking his knuckles and the bones in his long bare feet. They’d both thrown on comfortable clothes after coming in from the rainstorm, and Maggie never knew it was possible to feel so at ease alone in a man’s room, a man’s apartment, a man’s spare boxers and faded varsity rowing tee the only things between that same man and her pretty underwear.

“I’d dig that too, Legs,” she says, and tucks her hair behind her ear to kiss him. He untucks it again and kisses her back with a heated mmph, touching her hip and her hair at once. Very light touches, but there’s something about them that makes her feel like he’s got her wrapped up completely. She swirls her arms around the back of his neck and deepens the kiss, as deep as she can manage with the way their knees are obstructive, and at the dragging quiet click of spit, Maggie finds she wouldn’t mind if he touched her firm and wanting all over, sometime soon.

She pulls back to see him flushed, his glasses kinda screwy. He makes a low sound, a sort of cross between a sigh of satisfaction and a groan of regret that their mouths aren’t still moving together. Both of his hands fall to her crossed legs, and he patters fingertips to her skin.

“I got that badge in Boy Scouts too,” he says breathlessly, after a second or five.

“No wonder you’re so good at it,” Maggie says, and raises three fingers in a salute. “Lots of practice around the campfire, hm?”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t believe,” he chortles, saluting her back. “It’s a testament to your feminine wiles I’m even interested, what with my restricted training.” He gestures at her breasts. “We never covered those.”

“Liar, you had them pretty well covered last week,” Maggie teases, her inner thighs burning as she shifts at the memory, the back row of the Aladdin Theater, her tongue in his mouth and his big, gentle hands up her shirt.

“Earned my badge.”

“Well and truly.”

“We should get to work on uncovering them, then,” Went replies, tugging softly at the hem of his shirt she’s wearing, but his eyes don’t stray from her face.

“Wentworth!” She shoves at his hand, laughing again. She has a paper on syncopation due on Friday and a performance to prep for the end-of-semester recital, but she couldn’t care less right now. Lord, she’s so happy. What if it’s love, she thinks giddily, what if I love him, and he loves me. What then?

He dodges her play-slaps to take off his glasses because he only needs them for reading, and it’s just another layer falling away from between them. He’s not Doctor Tozier, he’s not that fucking geek, in the sullen-drunk words of her project partner Jack at a party last month, he’s just... Went. Just a man, as she is a woman. He’s cute and he’s acerbically funny and he makes her feel like they’re partners in some kind of crime, even though neither of them have so much as a speeding ticket. Maggie comes to a decision.

“Alright. I’ll sing the song for you,” she says, climbing off the bed.

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, I actually—oh, here it is.” She rummages in her bookbag and produces the 7” single from its cardboard sleeve. “I bought it on Tuesday and forgot all about it, I was going to show you earlier. Such a dunce.”

“Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that,” Went says, shuffling back on his crossed legs to sit against the headboard. He looks genuinely eager. “She’s finally singing for me, don’t knock her confidence. Though, I guess we’re not getting any more studying done. Duncehood looms for the both of us.”

Maggie straightens up from the record player and unclips her hair until it falls in a dark torrent around her face. She shakes it out, feeling the strength of her voice build in her chest, feeling like she’s on fire from the glare of a stage spotlight. Getting into the mindset of a song is an important part of performance. “Would you rather study? We can study if you like.”

“No, no,” Went says evenly. His face is pink again and his eyes are very dark, watching her. “I think I’d much rather do this.”

So Maggie sings. The record cranks to a crescendo on the choruses like a runaway train and Maggie loses herself in it, closing her eyes and dancing. She’s an elegant dancer to classical music and an awkward one to rock and roll. Went is even worse, the pair of them clunking their bodies together at parties like a game of marbles because it’s funny that way, it’s funnier with two. But she tries not to feel silly, because she knows her voice is good. People tell her so. She knows it’s so, and she’s proud of her very own instrument nestled in the nave of her throat, and she wonders why it had been such a nerve-wracking prospect to let Went hear her sing. Perhaps it’s because she holds it so dear. She doesn’t know when his opinion became so important to her, but it is. The sound thunders up easily from her chest, controlled and so fluid she can almost visualize it leaving her lips like a stream, so controlled she can let the control a little loose whenever she wants to wail along with Marc Bolan, like the only rockstar in an oversized preppy shirt, get it on, bang a gong, get it on.

The record scratches to a close but she doesn’t feel finished, there’s still breath left in her yet. She segues easily into one of Went’s horribly cutting and clever comedy records, so she has an excuse for her face burning. It’s not because she can’t open her eyes and see his reaction, it’s because she’s singing about smut, of course. Every brush of the hems of his borrowed shorts against the ticklish backs of her legs, is felt. Her hair is thick and warm and her scalp is starting to sweat with all her uninhibited bouncing. Eventually she gives up and collapses to the bed, giggling and breathless. She buries her face into the covers feeling more ridiculous than she normally does in the vicinity of his generally impassive nature. He’s stable, somehow without being boring. It keeps her on her toes at least, that damnable poker face; she actually takes great delight in the way she finds herself coming further and further out of her shell, just to try and call his bluff.

“Gosh, I hope your neighbors like T-Rex,” she mumbles. She’s crouched with her knees and hands huddled under her, waiting for her fearsome blush to subside. Waiting for him to say something. She’s aware of his quiet presence at the headboard, just as she is so suddenly aware of the way his soft tee is riding up her hunched form, exposing her lower back to the fresh night air. “I’m—I should send them all an apology note for disturbing their Saturday evenings.”

“You should be charging them for the privilege,” Went croaks.

Maggie looks up at him, sharply. He stares back, still cross-legged with his hands stuffed down into his lap and a dazed expression on his face. She kneels towards him, feeling the residual magic of the music spark powerful deep through her body, between her legs. “You think I’ll pass vocal performance?”

“Jesus Christ, Maggie,” he says, unfolding his endless legs so she can straddle them. His hands are restless against her hips, moved from where they’d been hiding the thick line in his shorts. “And all this time I thought you’d been hiding the terrible secret that you’re actually a bad singer.”

She laughs against his neck. “Oh really?”

“Yeah, just awful. I figured you must be a banshee or something.”

“You did not, don’t joke!”

“I never joke,” he grins. He kisses her harder than before, restless hands squeezing at her ribcage, her thighs, just below the hemlines. Maggie presses her hips forward and grips fiercely at his ropy upper arms, gasping. “I’m deadly serious, that was—you’re a knockout at everything, it’s hardly fair.”

“Went.”

“Mags, I’m obliged to tell you I have one hell of a crush on you.”

“Went.”

“I can’t believe you’re my girlfriend,” he says, and Maggie’s stomach flips at the rare note of bemused, painful sincerity in his voice.

“Went, you can uncover them now,” she says, and shimmery heat floods between her thighs as he ruts upwards, abruptly.

“Sorry,” he pants, “what?”

“Take my shirt off, please. And I have a crush on you too, you dunce.”

He does as she asks of him and says, “Jesus Christ,” again, and a whole lot of other curse words and sweet things and silly nonsense that makes her laugh more than she’s ever laughed doing this with someone, and afterwards his hair looks the way it does when it’s his turn to stick his head out of the sun-roof.

He rolls off to collapse beside her. As soon as they catch their breath he says, “I’m gonna bring you breakfast in bed. Right now.”

“It’s 11pm!” Maggie wheezes, watching him stagger naked from the bedroom. The sight of his narrow waist flaring up into broad, bony shoulders is unbearable, now that she knows how it all feels between her legs and rippling under her hands. It makes her voracious for more. She aches wonderfully in all the right places, just like a good callisthenic stretch should.

It was quite a stretch, she thinks, and shivers, turning her head to breathe into the sweaty tangle of her own loose hair spilled across the pillow.

“Eleven is technically almost morning, isn’t it,” he calls back, clattering in the kitchen. “Plus you’ll need the energy, because we’re doing that again immediately. If you want to, of course,” he adds hastily.

“Of course,” Maggie snorts. Her cheeks ache too, from happiness. “We’ve got badges to earn.”

- anyway

- Her mom likes him too because he’s a dentist, Margaret, but her dad thinks he’s a hippie with a fake diploma because he still has sideburns lmfao. Went’s parents like Maggie, but it’s a lot to do with how she tries so hard to make them like her. She’s like, shaking by the end of day 1 of her first meeting with them like “I just don’t ever want you to have to choose,” and Went (absentmindedly fiddling with an old toy robot, they’re staying in his childhood bedroom) is like “Don’t worry, I’d choose you any time. I mean, I’d have to kill them but I’m sure they’d understand,” and Maggie’s like “I’m serious!” and Went turns to her and says, “So am I, Mags,” and then wraps all his long stick insect limbs around her refusing to let go until she’s laughing again

- He’s also very neat, he does all his own ironing so his work tunics are just right. More than once Maggie and her two roommates come back to the apartment during weekends to find him standing in socks and boxers and ironing piles and piles of everyone’s laundry, and he refuses to believe Maggie that this is weird. She thinks back to her old boyfriends who could barely flush a toilet and thinks hm, maybe it’s not so weird

- for the first few years of living together after they get married they can’t choose sides of the bed. Like, it changes all the time. “This is intimate anarchy,” Maggie says, after their tenth night in a row of switching. “I’m sure this is what the Summer of Love was all about.”

“Oh, I thought it was about cunnilingus,” Went says brightly, slotting a bookmark into his copy of Jaws and turning off the side lamp. “My mistake. Goodnight, love.”

“Wait!”

- Went comes into the delivery room after Richie’s born, looking more shaken than Maggie herself, ashen and stressed. “I could hear you screaming from out there,” he whispers, kissing her forehead and jerking his thumb back over his shoulder, bloodshot eyes locked on the swaddled bundle on her chest. “Darling. Oh, Maggie.”

“We’re alright now,” she says, hoarse. “I was just letting him know however loud he is, he gets it from his mother.”

“Him?” Went bleats, his eyes so wide. He still only needs his glasses for reading. “He? It’s a boy—we have a—”

“A son, yes,” Maggie says, and wipes at her cheeks. She’s had quite enough fluids on her face for one night, thank you. “Here, take him away from me before I lose my temper with him again.”

She nearly starts crying again when she sees how tiny the baby—Richard, that’s right, they’d decided on Richard for a boy—how tiny he looks in Went’s big, capable hands. They manage not to wake him in the transfer and Wentworth cradles him against his collar for a moment, looking lost. Then he seems to come back to himself, shooting Maggie one of his big, crinkly grins (and God, she’s still a lost cause) as he addresses the consequence of their actions.

“Did you do this?” Went whispers into the blue folds of blanket, pointing one free finger at Maggie. “Look what you’ve done to my wife. How dare you. She looks terrible.”

“Shut up,” Maggie laughs, as quietly as she can.

“She looks terrible and more wonderful than ever,” Went continues in the baby’s ear. “Is this your doing? We’ll make a good team, I think. Between the two of us she doesn’t stand a chance, by thirty-five she’ll be too beautiful to look at and then she might get some peace and quiet.”

“You’re delirious from the thin atmosphere, Legs,” she says. “Give him back, if you drop him from up there he’s done for.”

“I won’t drop him,” Went insists, “you had him for nine months, let me have a turn.” He holds onto Richard while she sleeps, but not before she grabs at his arm and sobs thank you for him, Went, thank you, and Went cries a little too and says what are you thanking me for, I’d get a participation trophy at most, which makes her laugh and say, if anyone deserves a trophy for their participation technique it’s you, and then she falls asleep before she hears his reply.

- they play so much rock and roll for Richie, Maggie makes up her own songs for him and sings to him all the time. Maggie only had older sisters, and Went was an only child so neither of them have very much experience with babies, but Maggie’s friendships with Andrea Uris and Sharon Denbrough from the neighborhood and from book club help a lot, they all seem to have wound up having their firsts in the space of a few months. She values language too much to baby talk Richie, and Went would be clueless as to how to begin, so pretty often she finds him deep in conversation about politics or baseball with Richie babbling in his high chair.

- as I said before, I hc that Maggie speaks maybe French and Italian, and Went finds it incredibly sexy. He can’t reply, of course, he just babbles along in Richie’s ridiculous Voices, it’s basically the Swedish Chef but French or Italian. He calls her Marguerite if it’s French, and Margarita in Italian (“That’s Spanish!” Maggie hoots, stroking his hair back at both temples where it’s frosting to silver already, and clasping her hands around the back of his head. “What do margaritas have to do with Italy?”

“Not Margarita,” Went says. He traces a line between all the pretty moles on her chest, sweeping down between her breasts to the one just beside her navel, the soft little rise of belly that sits in the cup of her iliac crest. That spot always flicks her hips forward with ticklish heat, and if they’re not careful then Richie might end up with a baby sibling Maggie’s not quite ready for yet. “Margherita, like the pizza. You’re cheesy, sweetheart.”)

- both of them smoked but Maggie gave it up when she got pregnant, and now Went doesn’t smoke inside the house. He of course gives it up for good after he gets cancer of the larynx in his late 50s when Richie is 30, which makes Richie quit too

- they love their son and just want him to be HAPPY even if they’re sometimes misguided about what would make him happy, but hey, so is Richie

[dimitrescus-bitch]

Stream Secret (Bethany England x Reader)

You were relaxing in your hotel room when Ashlyn came running in with her phone. She was blabbing on about something, and you just ignored her as you sifted through the photos you’d taken that day. Ashlyn laid down on your bed and kept going with what she was doing. When she wanted you attention, she tossed a pillow towards you and yelled, “Y/n, the fans want you!”

“Hi fans,” you said, waving at the camera. Ashlyn read a few of the comments as they came in and chuckled. “What?”

“They’re thirsty bitches tonight,” Ashlyn cackled and you rolled your eyes. “Looking for anyone Y/n?”

“Not really,” you said, turning back to your camera. Your phone vibrated and you checked it. It was a text from Bethany, your girlfriend. You smiled and answered her, agreeing to meet up once Ashlyn’s stream.was over.

“Was that your girl Y/n?” Ashlyn asked and you shrugged, but the smile on your face gave it away. “Is she watching?”

“Maybe,” you said and Ashlyn continued with her questioning. You absentmindedly began to answer the questions, not giving much thought to them as you began to get antsy about your date with Beth.

“How did you meet your girlfriend?” Ashlyn asked, zooming in on your face.

“Well, after I dropped out of college, I moved over to England, and applied for photography jobs all over. Nobody was super interested in hiring me, but then I, uh, got a chance with a football club. They had actually seen the pictures I’d taken while still in college. This girl played for that team, and we started hanging out and clicked,” you said, your eyes glazing over a bit. “Actually, it was after Beth’s first game that we finally got out crap together.”

“Beth?” Ashlyn asked and without thinking, you answered.

“England,” you said before realizing what you did. Your eyes went wide and Ashlyn dropped her phone onto the floor. You watched her scramble to turn it off as your phone started ringing. It was Beth. “Shit.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ashlyn said, running out of the room. You sighed and then picked up the phone.

“Hey baby,” Beth said. She sounded calm, which was a very good thing. You were afraid that she’d be mad about you spilling the beans on your relationship.

“Hey Beth, sorry about that,” you said, sitting back in a chair.

“It’s fine, but I want you to know that this is the only privacy we’ll have once the season starts up if you decide to come back,” Beth said with a small chuckle. “The girls are freaking out. They had no idea.”

“I’m sure that I’ll have a lot to deal with whenever I go down for breakfast,” you said, smiling in relief. You told Beth about your day and she told you about hers before you ordered room service, hung up, and called her on Skype. The two of you joked around as you hate and then you fell asleep while watching a movie together. In the morning, when you came downstairs, all of the girls were sitting at breakfast. “Morning ladies.”

“Y/n, hey,” Emily said, scooting over so you could sit with her. “We’re playing England in She Believes, are you gonna go see her when we do?”

“Of course,” you said smiling. The girls kept asking you questions and by the time breakfast was over, they knew almost everything about your relationships. When the game against England came up, both teams were going crazy over the adorableness of you reuniting with Beth after nearly three months of not seeing each other in person. “Thanks Ash.”

“What?” Ashlyn asked, confused. You hugged her and then walked off to see Beth one last time before you had to go back with the girls for the next game.