#and also sneakers because she lied and said that they were in style

[kim-bobbae]

54. “I made reservations.”

I miss him so much and I hope he’s resting up, I just want to take care of him and be his comfort person TT

“To be really honest, I have no idea what he’s busy with until I see a recording or photoshoot of his on my schedule, and then I’m summoned to do his hair and makeup,” You laughed. “At this point I think it’s a relief he renewed his contract with AOMG instead of signing with H1GHR, don’t you think?” 

“I’m right, he really is the dad that’s never home,” Wonjae chuckled, tugging lower on his beanie. 

You were in the car on the way back to the AOMG headquarters after Wonjae’s photoshoot where Pumkin had dropped by in support since it was his first ever solo shoot for W magazine when the topic of Jay came about as you guys discussed the responses received from the interview they had done that was uploaded just a few days ago. With how busy Jay had been and how rare it was to see him around at the AOMG headquarters, their questions on what he had been up to very naturally fell on you because who else would know better if not for his girlfriend, right? 

Wrong. You had absolutely no idea either. 

Yes, there was the H1GHR compilation – you knew that much – but so did everyone else. The fact that you didn’t know much more than that surprised them, to say the least. 

“Do you want me to nag at him a little and drop him a hint or two? I could do that,” Pumkin offered. 

“Oh please no, I don’t think he’ll be too pleased if he finds out I’m whining about him to you guys behind his back.” 

“Not exactly, we’re the ones asking you about him,” Wonjae rebutted. 

“Yeah, when was the last time you guys went on a date?” Pumkin asked. “Don’t count the ones where you guys order delivery from the office or his studio, those aren’t counted.” 

“Why not? Those are dates…” 

“I see where the problem lies now,” Wonjae snickered. 

“C’mon, you guys are making this a bigger deal than it actually is,” You remarked. “We’ve been dating for years now, we’re past that.” 

A few days passed since then with nothing really out of the ordinary except for a dinner with your friends that you’ve managed to fit into your schedule after clearing an important deadline. With a couple of music releases coming up, you were attending meetings with different artists, talking to them about their ideas and concepts, proposing hairstyles, make up and clothing that would be suitable for their music videos and teaser images. 

While the job did sound manageable, the very act of browsing endless collections of the latest fashion releases was extremely time consuming, and squeezing in a short conversation or two with Jay via text message was, in fact, pretty much the norm these days with the both of you being so busy. Not that you minded – you just got used to it. 

And so did he. 

You understood though, really. You understood that he was a busy man and while you were important to him, he simply could not afford to put you in the center of his world. But he tried, and he did all he could to show you that. Yet, with that workaholic nature of his and all the people he had to put on for, work would always be his priority. 

It was just hard facing up to it last week when you tried your luck at getting some affection by cuddling up to him while he was reviewing some tracks during the ten minute window that the both of you were left alone in the studio – you couldn’t help it, it’s been a whole month (!!!) – only to earn a ‘I’m working, babe’ in a tone you don’t usually appreciate. He apologized, of course, realizing that he had hurt your feelings from the way you retreated quietly to another room, but it did enough to keep you from attempting it again for the remainder of the week. 

“Dinner tonight?” 

A message notification flashed across your screen. It was Jay. 

You didn’t think much of it though and readily agreed to it. For a split second, you wondered if Pumkin had a part to play in this and the smirk on his face as the receptionist walked in to the office towards you with a bouquet of roses in hand only confirmed your suspicions. 

“Looks like someone sent you flowers,” She said, handing it to you. 

Now Jay wasn’t really one who’d be into these flashy, romantic gestures, especially in front of his employees, and the number of heads that turned towards your direction with knowing smiles on their faces made you understand exactly why. 

Take a longer lunch break to get ready if you need to, I’ll be at the office at 7pm to pick you up.

You raised a brow at the formalities as you read the message on the card. Having been together for years, being on the receiving end of this somewhat grand gesture all of a sudden needed some getting use to again but with everyone’s attention on you and the extremely elaborate bouquet, you quickly set is aside, an embarrassed smile the best you could muster in response to their reactions before you got back to work. 

Consumed by your pile of work, you had completely lost track of time since then but it wasn’t hard to tell that it was already 7pm from the way your colleagues peeped curiously from behind their desk dividers, stifling their excited giggles and from their reaction you could already guess that Jay was here. It wasn’t every day that they could catch a glimpse of their boss’s love life, after all. 

“Ready to go?” He asked, and what ensued was a moment of confusion the second you turned around to face him. 

He was all cleaned up in a black tee shirt and dress pants, hair styled back and you were pretty sure those were some new shoes from his two hundred deep sneaker collection while there you were, in a pair of skinny jeans and oversized sweater and it was obvious that you guys weren’t dressed for the same occasion. 

You hesitated, “…last minute schedule to attend to?”

“No…I’m taking you for dinner?” He mused, gesturing to the flowers. “I made reservations.” 

“Yeah but…you didn’t tell me that I had to get dressed up,” You replied sheepishly. 

“I did,” He laughed. “You just didn’t take me seriously.” 

“You said ‘if you need to’,” You argued in a hush whisper. “Plus, the last time you picked me up we had tacos at the diner just down the street.” 

For a while he stared at you, and so did everyone else and in all honesty, it was getting slightly embarrassing by now. Thankfully, Jay caught on your discomfort from the way you played with your fingers and bit on your lips as you waited for his reply. 

“It’s okay, we’ll sort this out,” He reassured in a soft voice, grabbing the bouquet in one hand and yours in the other. “Let’s go.” 

“Where are we going…?” You asked once the both of you were in the car. 

The fact that one of his managers wasn’t driving you guys and that he was instead driving his Bentley for the first time in ages did explain something about what he had planned but for now, everything about this made you nervous. This was so unlike him – excluding the first year of your relationship, that is. 

“We’re going to your favorite Italian restaurant,” He explained. “But I guess we should drop by your place to get you dressed up first, huh?” 

“Sorry about that,” You murmured, and he couldn’t help but titter at the way you stared down at your outfit with a sigh. 

You wasted no time and tossed your bag aside upon reaching home, making a beeline towards your wardrobe and immediately started sieving through your dresses. Despite the rough start, you had to admit that this was rather exciting. Heck, you couldn’t even remember the last time the both of you had a proper date night and the fact that he had taken the time to plan this amidst his schedule? Damn you were about to dress the hell up. 

You hastily put on the dress that you had picked out, a fairly new one from the few that you had saved up for rare occasions like these, then scurried to the living room where Jay was waiting. 

However, the sight of Jay burying his face in his hands looking absolutely worn had you somewhat stopping in your tracks. 

He was seated on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his lap as he squinted at his cracked phone screen. His brows furrowed as he tapped away at what sounded like a new message notification, then brought his phone up to his ears as he listened to what probably was a demo of one of the tracks off the album. Sure, he was dressed up, absolutely stunning, but how stressed he looked was definitely not a good look on him and at this point you weren’t sure how you’d feel about dinner if his mind was going to be miles away, back in his studio. 

“Wow,” He beamed upon noticing you then set his phone aside as he stood up. “You look beautiful.” 

“I could say the same for you, too.” 

“You okay?” He asked, cocking his head upon noticing that you seemed to be distracted in thought. 

“Yeah, of course.” 

“Come here, let me help you with that,” He smiled, noticing that the back of your dress was unzipped. 

But as he placed his hand on the zipper, you reached around to tug on his fingers, then turned around to face him. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Why don’t…we just have dinner at home today?” You suggested, observing his reaction carefully. 

“Why the sudden change of mind...?” 

“I don’t know,” You sighed. “I mean, you seem really caught up with work, and I love that you took the time to plan a date, but I’m not sure if I can sit through that pretending that I am not seeing for myself how exhausted you are.” 

“No, no it’s fine,” He insisted. “I’m taking the night off to spend it with you.” 

The both of you glanced at his phone as it beeped again and then back at each other, and you could almost tell how he was already itching to respond to it. 

“I’ll cook us dinner, and we can postpone this date until after the album is released,” You told him. 

He looked at you, not quite sure if he was allowed to give in to you, especially after the little episode in his studio last week that had also been due to his work. 

“I’m not mad, I promise,” You giggled, reading him like a book. “Let’s stay in tonight.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, go get your MacBook from the car and carry on with your work while I cook but all I ask for though...” You started. “Is for your undivided attention after that. I’ll cook a stew if it gives you more time.” 

He exhaled deeply, taking a step towards you and pulled you in for a long embrace, “How do you always manage to make me feel better even though I’m the one who screwed up?” 

“You didn’t screw up,” You said, wrapping your arms around his broad frame. “You tried, and I appreciate that.” 

“That makes me feel worse...” He replied, cupping your face and stroking your left cheek with his thumb.

You leaned into his touch, smiling, “It’s no big deal, this is just one of your busy phases. Once the album’s released, I’ll have my boyfriend back. Easy.” 

“I’ll make up for it, alright? I promise,” He said, then leaned in to kiss you sweetly. 

“Seems like the only way to get kisses nowadays is to let you work, huh?” You taunted. 

“Baby…” He whined, the littlest pout creeping to his lips. “Let’s not go back there.” 

“I was kidding,” You sniggered. “Now give me another one to shut me up.”

[lucas-grey]

I haven’t found a beta reader yet, but I have written some more short stories and I love them, it is so much fun to write! So I want to share them with you, even if they aren’t perfect or have been read by someone else. It’s just for the fun ❤️

Starting with this one that takes place right before the events of Hitman 2016, where Lucas Grey decided to live a normal life. I hope you enjoy it and have fun reading it! (There’s a little bit of sex in it so be warned).

New York, USA

The first time he met her was in a Café. She was sitting alone at a table reading a book. In front of her was the only free seat. Grey eyed her. Late 30s. Short, curly hair, slim curves. A leopard print midi skirt, a black oversized shirt, white sneakers. He liked the kind of casual street style that women in the big cities wore.

“Is this place still free?, he asked. She looked at him. Big brown eyes, full lips. She smiled and nodded, asking him to sit down. She went on reading, but he spoke up, asked her if she knew the place and could recommend anything to him. The cheesecake is fantastic. He ordered it. From then on she ignored her book. They talked about cake and New York, books and travel. He lied when he said he hadn't seen many countries. He lied when he said his family lived overseas. He wasn't lying when he finished his cake and his coffee and told her that he would like to see her again. She smiled and gave him her number.

They met three more times before she invited him to her apartment. Three meetings that gave him a comfortable feeling of normalcy. He loved everything about her. Her loud laughter. Her passion for desserts, that she couldn't pass a dog without wanting to stroke it, her enthusiasm for art. When he was with her, everything else was forgotten. Grey had long tried to live what other people called a normal life. He had taken a new job as head of security for a famous banker named Eugene Cobb. It was an easy job, protecting a VIP. It was easier than the many wars he'd been involved in as a mercenary. And it was easier than the time he had spent at the Institute for Human Betterment when he was a kid and was formed into a killer by horrific methods at the behest of an organization called Providence. Grey had seen it all. Tortured children, destroyed, burning cities, suffering, death. And far too often he was to blame for this himself. He always did what his clients asked. Nameless suits, rich people from politics or business, whom he could only identify as Providence members because they all wore a small pin in the shape of an origami hummingbird. Grey wanted to leave this life behind for good and the new job in New York and a normal relationship with a woman should help him with that.

On their third date they went to a fancy restaurant. She wore a figure-hugging, dark green dress, he wore a classic black suit. When they got to her apartment, all inhibitions fell away. The wine showed its effect. He pressed her against the wall and kissed her passionately. Their tongues played with each other while his hands wandered to her bottom and he lifted her with a jerk and carried her to the bed. He buried his hands in her curly hair as she took his cock in her mouth. She clutched the bedspread as he disappeared with his head between her legs and his tongue slid over her delicate vulva. His cool blue eyes looked at her, he saw her bite her upper lip while his tongue increased her desire. She clutched his broad shoulders as he lay on top of her and came inside her with violent thrusts as she pressed her head into the pillow and groaned loudly when she joined him.

Lucas stayed with her overnight. They had just talked when she fell asleep lying on his chest. He heard her soft, steady breathing as he stroked her hair. And what he felt was normalcy.

On the way to work, Grey's thoughts revolved around the previous evening. The sex, the passion, but also the comforting feeling he had when he thought of her. All thoughts of the past were obliterated. He had the feeling that he could finally leave the past behind and start a new life far away from suffering and pain.

When he got to work, Cobb asked him to come to his office. Cobb was only a few years older than Grey. He was wearing an expensive, tailored suit and was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking Times Square, his back turned to Grey. "You wanted to speak to me, Mister Cobb," began Grey. “Ah Mister Grey”, Cobb began, turning around. When Grey looked at him, his eyes widened in shock. Everything around him suddenly felt like thick fog. He didn't hear a word of what Cobb was saying, he felt like in a deep dark vacuum and all he saw was the little pin in the shape of an origami hummingbird on Cobb's Lapel. Everything disappeared. There was no more smell of cheesecake and coffee, no curly hair, no loud laughter. All that remained was the screaming of children, the smell of scorched earth and the deep hatred of an organization that Grey wanted to leave behind. "Can I count on you, Mister Grey?" Lucas looked at Cobb in confusion. “Sir?", he stuttered. Cobb looked at him questioningly. “The trip to Europe, you must come with me. We're flying with my jet. Day after tomorrow. Can I count on you?” Grey's gaze darkened as the thought of revenge enveloped him, while every other thought vanished. “Of course, Mister Cobb”.

[baodurs]

i want someone besides me and the 2 friends who know all the lore to meet my detective, but i’m too impatient to let you get to know her via fic so i filled out this questionnaire instead. she is veronica and she is so important, here is some stuff about her if you are interested :’)

QUICK READ OF YOUR DETECTIVE

Name: veronica langford

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: bi

Love interest: adam

Best friend: morgan

Main skill: science/technology

Secondary skill: combat/physical

Main personality trait: impulsive

Secondary personality trait: sarcastic

Why did they join the Wayhaven PD?: best use of her science skills

Relationship with Rebecca: not great

Relationship with Bobby: ex, finds it hard to be around him

Verda or Tina?: both! but she’s on verda’s branch

Murphy bite?: wrist

Murphy's fate?: captured

Rescue LI or Rescue Sanja?: sanja

GENERAL

Name: veronica “it’s been 3 years and i never gave her a middle name” langford

Nickname: just veronica. people around wayhaven called her ronny growing up, and a few still do despite her trying to grow out of it. maybe a few people from college and sometimes tina call her v or vee or something.

Birthday: please you all know i am so scared of concrete dates

Age: 26

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: bi

Hair color: brown

Eye color: dark brown

Height: 5′10 (178 cm)

Piercings: just one in each ear

Tattoos: something retro sci-fi on her shoulder. not a reference to anything specific, but like a little planetary landscape with a UFO in the background or something.

Clothing Style: casual. lots of tank tops and muscle tees (weather- and occasion-permitting), concert t-shirts, warm colors. flannels and leather jackets. jeans, sneakers, combat boots. think like rocker chick vibes, but cozier and more colorful.

Apartment Style: basic. she really did not plan on living there long and kept putting off decorating because it’d be a waste if she was just going to move out. this rationalization went on so long but since the end of book 1 she has slowly bought a few things to push it towards “cozy,” still pretty sparse though.

STATS

Personality:

Charming | Intimidating

Impulsive | Cautious

Sarcastic | Genuine

Friendly | Stoic

Easygoing | Stubborn

Traits:

Heart | Mind

Optimist | Pessimist

Team Player | Independent

Skills:

Main Skill: science/technology (but mostly science)

Second Skill: combat/physical

By the Book | Bend the Rules

KEY DECISIONS

Reason for joining the Wayhaven PD: best use of her science skills

Murphy bite:  Wrist | Neck | None

Murphy’s Fate: Captured | Escaped

Rescued: Love Interest | Sanja

ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP

Love Interest: adam

Why them?: for veronica it’s kind of retroactive. the way i imagine their True Canon, they don’t have any real romantic moments in book 1, so she doesn’t seriously consider that adam might have feelings for her until well into book 2. (the training scene is when she’s like “oh. ok. i get it now.”) even then it takes a few more chapters for her to really process that, figure out how she feels, and recontextualize everything. like realizing that he loves her and then thinking back on their relationship, knowing that, makes her feel so held (sorry i have no better way to say it) in a way that just makes her want to cry.

to give some actual specific reasons, it’s his dedication and his constancy and hidden care/softness. and his very specific brand of... selflessness might be just left of the word i’m looking for, but hopefully you get me.

Bold, shy, or mixed?: neither! in theory it’s closer to bold, but it’s more just earnest.

What were their first impressions of each other?: disastrous. on top of finding him condescending and unpleasant, there are also a few moments where veronica genuinely wonders whether he’s even a good person. or, like, cares about people. but once she learns the truth of things, a lot of her initial anger gets transferred to rebecca.

adam, with the benefit of knowing what’s actually happening, has a slightly more favorable impression of veronica. yes he thinks she’s difficult and reckless and too emotionally driven, yes she’s making his job absolutely miserable, but he does begrudgingly respect that her accusations are always on the right track and she’s good at her job.

What do they find attractive about each other, mentally or physically?:

for veronica: she loooves his sense of humor. and how much faith he has in the people he cares about. physically, dimples <3. but everything about his smile really. and his nose!

for adam: veronica has a very blunt, unadorned sense of kindness to her that he really loves. the way she is kind before she is nice and values directness. physically, her eyes, they’re deep brown and so expressive.

What do they do to spend time together?: they’re both competitive so anything where they can compete on the same team is fun. (competing against each other is fun too, but also like. exhausting. for them and everyone.) maybe puzzles or other things where it feels like they’re “winning” or solving something together. i have spent an embarrassing amount of thought on veronica and overw*tch esp*rts and she would absolutely make adam learn how to play main tank so they could queue as a tank duo. but most of the time i think they don’t Do specific things together; they just hang out. just talk with each other. perhaps snuggle.

What is their favorite memory together?: in current canon... lol. veronica really just treasures any time adam relaxes around her but those moments always get Ruined. even once they’re well into a relationship, i think veronica’s favorite memory would still be something small like a random time he said something funny and they both laughed together and they were outside and the sky was pretty.

What are their love languages?: acts of service for both of them, but especially adam. veronica... probably lots of words of affirmation and physical touch. they’re both bad at blocking out time for themselves in the first place, so quality time can get neglected especially at first.

How do they handle being apart from one another?: pretty well i think! once they’re in an established relationship at least, before that it’s probably harder. but adam can distract himself with work, and veronica is good at focusing on whatever’s in front of her (whether that’s work or she’s away on vacation or something). if neither of them is too busy, veronica calls every night and they stay on a while, half talking and half just keeping each other company.

Do they argue? How do they handle arguments and disagreements? How do they make up?: i think arguments are fairly rare! yes they’re both insanely stubborn, but they also understand each other pretty well (especially once in a relationship) and are very sympathetic to where the other is coming from. unless both of them are extremely stressed, one of them crumbles when they start genuinely arguing like "i don't want to fight ok, let's take a second."

What does their future look like?: who knows! i haven’t decided whether veronica will turn. i think she probably will, just because i do not want my main pairing for this IF to make me very sad all the time, but like. i’m not fully committing until i see a reason pop up in canon. as of book 3′s final demo, it’s not on her radar at all; she knows she loves adam and wishes they could Talk, but ultimately doesn’t expect or even want a relationship right now (because she doesn’t want to deal with dating one of rebecca’s agents OR with the logistics of being in a committed relationship with an immortal being). it’s just all so foreign to her current state of mind that it’s really hard to say!

Anything else you'd like to share: do you know how hard it was to answer some of these considering veronica wasn’t sure they were even, like, on decent terms for such a large portion of the canon content

BEST FRIEND RELATIONSHIP

Best friend: morgan and farah are essentially joint besties but i’ll go with M

Why them?: i think they appreciate each other’s no bullshit attitude. morgan likes that veronica doesn’t take herself too seriously and respects/relates to the way she tackles problems (quickly, head-on, and without complaint but also without pretending that it doesn’t suck?). veronica appreciates morgan’s bluntness, likes bantering with her, and in general just likes being around people that have quiet/steady presences.

What were their first impressions of each other?: neither of them had much of a first impression honestly. morgan barely thought of veronica at all beyond “she’s annoying,” and kept to herself so much that any dislike veronica had of morgan took a backseat to her dealing with the rest of unit bravo.

What do they do to spend time together?: lots of just sitting in the same room and listening to (low volume) music, veronica spends a lot of time hunting for songs morgan might like. morgan is also her go-to sparring/training buddy. and there are semi-frequent movie nights where veronica shows farah her favorite old shitty B movies, and sometimes morgan will tag along just to sit in the room with them or affectionately talk shit.

Anything else you'd like to share: i’ll talk a little about N! obviously veronica and nate respect, trust, and like each other, but she finds him the hardest of UB to connect with. they’re both people who wear their compassion on their sleeves but keep a lot of their hearts/themselves held back, so they just kind of circle each other, especially since like... nate values politeness and is very sweet in how he relates to people, while veronica values directness and is more jokey/lighthearted to put people at ease. idk how well i’m communicating this; as of the book 3 demo it’s getting easier, but their friendship is still newer/more... nebulous? than the others.

OTHER RELATIONSHIPS (Feel free to go in depth!)

Relationship with Rebecca: so strained. veronica has come to terms with rebecca’s absences throughout her childhood, but there’s newer resentment over... a lot of things, but how she handled the murphy case especially. veronica hates being kept in the dark, and even more than that she hates being rebecca’s priority. it’s difficult to reconcile her childhood and present images of rebecca, and she’s angry that rebecca is so freely and recklessly choosing her, now, to the point of endangering others if she has to, especially when she never felt like rebecca’s choice before. and incredibly frustrated/confused by how often the lines between their professional and familial relationships are blurred and what rebecca actually wants from her.

Relationship with Rook: veronica takes after rook a lot. in stat terms, the only trait they don’t share is stoic, and even then that’s veronica’s least extreme stat. people always told her how like her father she was growing up, and it’s a comparison she took/takes a lot of pride in! she looks up to him based on the stories, but more recently is uncomfortable with the comparisons. veronica would never have even come back to wayhaven if her life panned out as planned, let alone become a detective or joined the agency. that makes her doubt herself, and she feels like that doubt is letting rook down somehow.

rook is also part of the reason her relationship with rebecca isn’t as bad as it could be. she knows that rook loved her, and that he would want his family to be there for each other, so she feels obligated to at least try to make things better. but it’s really hard for her to move past everything to connect with rebecca (which also makes her feel like she’s disappointing rook).

Relationship with Bobby: they were together for a long time and veronica thought she loved him a lot! it was her first relationship, so she wasn’t sure a) what a “bad partner” looked like, or b) how to even be in a relationship or rely on someone in that way. so they spent a lot of time together and had great superficial chemistry, but veronica didn’t have enough experience with not feeling neglected to realize how shallow it was, or notice the red flags when she did occasionally open up. the plagiarism fiasco was a slap in the face, especially because it cost her internships/grad school apps/whatever, i don’t have the details, and forced her to move back to wayhaven after school. she’s still very hurt by it and finds it hard to be around bobby.

Relationship with Verda: due to the above plagiarism fiasco, veronica was pretty depressed when she moved back home, and disliking her job didn’t help. she was extremely jealous when verda was hired and wanted to hate him. but it did not take long for that to crumble into respect/admiration, and eventually into close friendship! verda is a role model for her; they bond over science; they joke easily and have good chill fun. she was really excited to see him piecing together the truth about the supernatural and then devastated to see how he reacted. she feels insanely guilty and thinks it was selfish of her to let him figure it out, but is also cautiously optimistic about making it up to him as of the book 3 demo.

Relationship with Tina: very close! veronica isolated herself when she came back to wayhaven after school, and she is so grateful to tina for being her closest friend and link to the rest of the world during that time. hates keeping the supernatural from her, though. she didn’t like lying to tina to begin with, but she feels even worse about it now that verda knows, and now that tina has clearly picked up on something being wrong but she still can’t say anything.

Relationship with the Mayor: cannot stand him. hates the way he talks about rook, hates the way he talks to rebecca. she cooperates as necessary but doesn’t bother hiding her lack of patience/respect for him.

Relationship with Capt. Sung: basically fine. i think veronica might be a little too casual for him in the way she works, but she always gets the job done so he’s not too bothered by it. (she is ‘bend the rules,’ but more ‘strict rules aren’t important as long as you’re still doing good work’ than the ‘boooo fuck paperwork’ variety. so it’s mostly fine.) she also appreciates him as a minor link to rook.

Relationship with Haley: very friendly, but not super close. they get along great and could make pleasant conversation for hours, but ultimately don’t know each other super well despite the familiarity of growing up together.

Relationship with Elidor: such a comforting presence for veronica during her recovery! she is so grateful, so fond.

Relationship with Tapeesa/Vieno: veronica loves vieno’s cranky-yet-friendly vibe and they get along well! not close, but will stop to chat whenever they pass each other.

Relationship with Unit Alpha: loves their energy. always looks forward to the next opportunity to chat with them, and fully supports any harmless dunking on UB even if she rarely joins in.

Relationship with the Maa-alused: going through the house of mirrors and then coming home for them to appear in her apartment and infect bobby was one of thee worst experiences of her life, and it’s hard for her to get past that + the illness in general. sympathizes with them, and got them to sign the treaty, but is still kind of unsettled by everything that happened and by falk.

Do they have any other important relationships, past or present? (Relatives, friends, etc.?): some vague figures i have in mind but no one i’ve really developed. a couple friends from college, and maybe an elderly couple that lives on her childhood street and used to check in her.

PERSONAL BIO

Describe their personality: her usual demeanor is very warm and casual. sincere but private--she’s pretty blunt and likes to be direct with people, but steers conversations away from personal topics. likes to joke around and doesn’t take herself that seriously. but behind all this, she’s extremely stubborn and won’t shy away from conflict if she thinks you’re in the wrong (which is why she seems like a different person in the first half of book 1. UB is surprised by how like... chill and nice she is once they clear the air). a workaholic, self-reliant and secure but still pretty hard on herself, takes a lot of responsibility for the people around her.

Strengths: so dedicated. honest and trustworthy, has a strong moral compass and can always be counted on to do her absolute best. flexible and intuitive, her brain works really fast.

Weaknesses: cannot compartmentalize or separate herself from a case, throws herself so recklessly into everything (in terms of both physical danger and emotional burnout). doesn’t necessarily hold grudges but has a hard time letting go of hurt, still can’t think objectively about bobby or rebecca.

Where in the world is their Wayhaven?: somewhere on the US east coast idk what to tell you. perhaps a carolina or a virginia.

What is their personal history?: veronica was pretty social and well-liked around wayhaven growing up. she was known as just a really good kid; she was an overachiever and got along with almost anyone. in college, she felt like she was free of something and took a very work hard/play hard approach to life. always doing or going, whether it was for school or work or fun. she really enjoyed life during this time but crashed and burned pretty hard when she and bobby broke up; a lot of her plans were delayed until the plagiarism incident was resolved and she didn’t really have the heart to pursue them afterwards.

a year or so after graduating, she returned to wayhaven with the intention of taking one more year to regroup, and she has been stuck there longer than she meant to be and has kind of hit a wall when book 1 starts.

If they weren't a detective, what would their dream job be?: she was on track to become a biochemist and it was her dream job but then the main plot happened to her.

Anything else you'd like to share: i don’t really know enough to fully explain this, but no OC i love is a cop so like. i think maybe the job she took when she got back to wayhaven was a douglas-esque receptionist role for detective reele’s private office. then reele retired and small town politics + veronica’s history of useful contributions to cases in her downtime at work led to her being pressured to take up the mantle. it’s hard to explain why she’s a detective when she so deeply does not want to be one but i am Trying (or maybe she would have jumped at the chance to do something marginally closer to forensics?? who knows)

RANDOM FACTS

Zodiac sign: aries is what i assigned her when i first made her and i think it suits her! plus it’d be fun for her and M to be twins. this goes hand-in-hand with my birthday commitment issues though

Hobbies: music (she plays guitar and bass and sings a little), running, gaming unfortunately. i could also see her having been into boxing or some martial art but idk what exactly!

Likes: early morning stillness, DIY projects, t-shirts with inexplicable slogans and other weird thrift store finds

Dislikes: overly sweet food or drink, when cold weather lasts too long, being lied to or “protected” from the truth

Drink of choice: something with gin maybe. also feels a great fondness and gratitude for cheap wine.

Starbucks order: i truly know nothing about coffee. is it weird to order black coffee at starbucks

Favorite food: variations on spicy chicken soup! she eats a lot of crockpot meals for convenience and they’ve grown on her, and she has a few different recipes based on whatever she has on hand.

Favorite color: maybe like a rusty orange

Favorite music: she will listen to anything, but her favorite is probably folk rock, or sometimes stuff with soul or old school country vibes. big thief is a good example of an artist she’d be into i think! also was very into the indie music scene in her college town and still follows some of those bands.

Favorite genre (and favorite movie/book/etc): loves old, campy, unselfconsciously optimistic sci-fi. loves star trek tos. also a fan of documentaries of all kinds.

Favorite season: summer

Anything else you'd like to share: a kiss for you reading this mwah

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Charming Man

Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 5, 618

Warnings: Cursing, Unwanted Male Advances

Author’s Note: I hit 2K!!! I had no idea I would ever get to such a milestone, much less in such a short amount of time! Thank you to everyone whose joined me on this tour of an ocean of flavor!

Tag List: @hotstuffhargrove @moonstruckhargrove @carolimedanvers @alex--awesome--22 @thechickvic @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @so-not-hotmess @agentsinstorybrooke @sunflowercandie @kaliforniacoastalteens @songforhema @spidey-pal @mickmoon

Steve Harrington was a nuisance. He didn’t know when to quit. If he asked you one more question about the stupid Wham! album, you were going to scream. But there you, with your big, fake smile that made the corners of your mouth hurt, nodding along to whatever Harrington was droning on about. You thought he was still contemplating the choice between the single and the whole record. He had made some comment about only needing the song Careless Whisper off the record and the salesgirl in you had tried to up sell him, suggesting buying the cassette and the single, to ensure that he didn’t need both. It was a terrible idea-singles were in essence, an awful to buy, but so was buying both the full cassette and the single, since it would cost twice as much than just buying the record. But you believed Harrington was just dumb enough to fall for the scheme. You’d gotten smarter boys to buy more than they needed. Last week, you’d been able to convince Keith to buy singles of a bunch of your favourite songs, purely because he was shamelessly trying to impress you. He failed to do so, but you might be getting a mix tape out of it, which wouldn’t be terrible. You collected mix tapes, especially mix tapes about broken hearts or first love. You planned to make an art installation with them, but for now they sat in a shoe box under your passenger seat.

“So, you think I should get the cassette and the single on record?” Steve asked, drawing you out of your thoughts. Your smile dropped slightly, trying to piece together what he was talking about.

You found it fast, nodding too enthusiastically “Yeah! I mean, between you and me, it’s a better deal...” you said, keeping your voice low as if it was a big secret what you were telling him.

“Is it?” Steve asked, crossing his arms over his chest, the record and tape still in hand, each poking out on either side of him. You stifled a yawn, nodding again. You’d been there since seven that morning and the mall was closing in an hour. You were beyond exhausted, but Tiffany Michaels called in sick, again, and so you had to cover again.

“Yeah!” you let your cheery tone fall away a bit, hoping the irritation slipping through would give him the hint to clear off. This interaction had been going on for a half hour now. It had started with him asking for record suggestions, which you took to mean ‘tell me the albums the popular hits on the radio are coming from’ and pattered off the top selling records from memory. You’d sold more copies of Madonna’s Like a Virgin in the past week than you could possibly keep track of, purely because people wanted the album with Material Girl or Like a Virgin or Into the Groove on it. Steve had gotten unsurprisingly interested in the album with Careless Whisper on it, as did most horn dog, wannabe players who came strutting into your store. You were more than happy to sell him the record and get on with your shift, but he wasn’t letting that happen.

“Cause, the full record’s like eight bucks.” He held up the tape “But the tape’s like six, plus three bucks for the single that’s like nine bucks, that’s more than the record.” He grinned, placing the tape on top of the single, handing them back to you as if they were yours.

You felt your face colour, in part because he’d taught you in your lie, but in part because he seemed genuinely proud of that mental math. “You’re...you’re right. I wasn’t thinking, sorry ‘bout that.” You said easily, shrugging as you placed the single back on the shelf and the tape into the plastic shopping basket on your arm. He’d caught you shelving tapes in the easy listening section half an hour ago and you weren’t allowed to shelf while talking to a customer, meaning you were forced to lug them around with you as Steve wandered, asking questions. And those things were heavy all lumped together! There had to be at least a hundred copies of Kate Bush’s Running Uphill and Whitney Houston’s Whitney Houston in your stupid basket!

“It’s cool, no biggie...I think I’ll just get the single, come back for the record if I like the song enough.” He decided with a small nod.

You grit your teeth. You wanted to scream about how singles were a waste of money and how you’d make no money on commission for that. Instead, you nodded “Great! If you just head to the counter, Michelle can check you. Enjoy your record!” you said, turning on your heel and practically rushing out of the stereo accessory section he’d dragged you to. You only had forty minutes to shelf all the tapes on your arm, or else you’d have to stay passed close to do it, which both your closing manager and you would hate.

“Hey, uh wait!” he called, chasing after you. You let out a small sigh, turning back with a painful smile. “I was sort of wondering, well maybe if you’d wanna maybe go out this weekend? They’re showing Dawn of the Dead at the theatre, I’ve heard it pretty good...” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, eyes drifting to the ceiling instead to yours.

Your brows furrowed. You weren’t expecting this from him. But, of course, he was not the first boy to ask you out while you were at work. It was a distressingly common theme. You assumed that guys liked that you had to be nice to them, or that they didn’t realize that you had to be nice and assumed that you were flirting. “Oh...um I’m working this weekend...” you said, shuffling on your feet. Most of the time, when guys ask you out at work, they seemed so confident and cocky, it was easy to reject them. But Steve looked genuinely nervous and you couldn’t place why.

Steve’s smirk only grew, he leaned in closer, trapping you against a rack of blank tapes “Aw come on, have a little fun,  come out with me instead.” He said. You’d heard this shtick before, Billy Hargrove had tried it on you just a couple weeks prior. Having it come from Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, made you want to puke. Because you knew exactly where he’d been. With Billy, it was unclear; lots of girls lied about what they did and didn’t do with that boy. But everyone knew who did what with Harrington. You weren’t too interested in being put on a list.

“Yeah, I actually need the money so…no.” you replied, pushing out from under his arm and away from him. Steve stumbled back, shocked and a little mortified by how you’d reacted to his flirting.

Steve’s head dropped, his gaze focusing on his scuffed converse before he looked at you again “Yeah...yeah no that’s cool, no biggie. Some other time then...” he said awkwardly, brushing the singular strand of brown hair from his face. You didn’t say anything, what were you supposed to say? That you thought he was a douche and had zero interest in doing anything with him? That kind of language could get you fired. And you needed this job, you desperately needed a car for next year.

“I’ll see you around?” Steve tried awkwardly, his smile turning into a frown fast as you didn’t respond.

“Yeah sure.” You nodded “I gotta go shelf this stuff before the mall closes.” You headed back towards the easy listening section, trying not to cringe at the awkward interaction you’d just experienced. It was so very awkward! It was more fun to reject assholes who treated you like a well dressed object to leer and gawk at. Sam Goody didn’t have uniforms per say, simply a dress code to uphold; it was encouraged to look cool, hip, and young. As long as your shoes were black sneakers, your hair wasn’t fully in your face, and you could see your bottoms under your tiny apron, you were good. Which meant you chose your clothes carefully. Generally, you went with a patterned button down, which you could pop as many or as few buttons on as you want. That meant that you could be remembered by your male and female customers alike could either remember you by your name or as the chick with the great tits. It worked well.

But it also meant that guys like Steve Harrington talked to your chest.          

And it was weird for Steve to talk to your chest! Especially since you and Steve had never had a conversation. Like ever. If you weren’t wearing a nametag, you’d be utterly shocked that he knew your name. Because he was the proverbial king of Hawkins and you were a nobody. Well, a nobody until someone wanted to use your employee discount. Then, suddenly you were the most popular girl in school. Hell, you should’ve gotten a job sooner, maybe you would’ve had a date to the spring formal last year.

Steve did buy the single. Even though he hated singles. Who wanted to listen to one song over and over again? Even if it had a B-side, it wasn’t worth the price. He bought it, he made sure to say that you helped him, and then he left. The mall was closing down, save the movie theatre, and he wanted to get home as soon as possible. That was so embarrassing. He didn’t even know why he tried, it wasn’t as if she had any pretence to him. All the other girls he’d been hitting on that summer were his age, they knew him and his style. They also knew about the most humiliating moment in his life, a lot of them were even there to experience it second hand. But you had only the rumours of his dickish tendencies to go off of. That wasn’t enough for anyone to work with.

But stupid Dustin had gotten it in his head that he had to get a girl, that Robin was the right girl. But Robin wasn’t the right girl, no way in hell. So he went in harder on trying to get a date. Every girl his age got hit on, he’d nearly got his ass beat by Justin Gardner after hitting on his girlfriend in front of him, but how was he supposed to know Justin was dating? Justin was a benchwarmer who couldn’t get a date if he paid them in school. Now suddenly he could get a hottie? Unbelievable.

It didn’t help that Dustin had a girlfriend now. And yes, it was embarrassing that Steve was jealous of a thirteen year old for having a girlfriend, he would never admit it out loud. But even though he didn’t believe that Suzie actually existed, it was slightly annoying that his dorky little friend could get a girlfriend and he couldn’t. He used to be able to get any girl he wanted! What happened? Did Nancy spread a rumour about him that he hadn’t heard yet? Was it because he lost a fight to both Billy Hargrove and Jonathan Byers? Or was it because he wasn’t going to college in the fall?

He was almost certain it was because he wasn’t going to school in the fall.

That and the dorky sailor outfit he had to wear at Scoops Ahoy!

The dumb Dixie cup hat and sailor shirt were totally throwing off his game. That’s why he was looking forward to going to the mall that day, out of uniform, to scope babes. He didn’t have much success, but he was a little bit excited to see you out of uniform. He’d seen you about a dozen times, all while you were at work, leaned over the counter, sometimes chewing on the end of a pen, sometimes laughing with coworkers or customers. You always looked so...well beautiful. He had to see it up close. And you just a beautiful up close, but it was obvious that you were uncomfortable too. Still, you were cute. He wished that you were a year older, that you already had all the context to his life. But what could he do? He wasn’t going back in there, not with you wandering around with your judgy eyes. It would be humiliating.

And he was already humiliating himself enough that summer.

You finished shelving the tapes in record time, mostly because the shop was empty and Michelle was thoroughly annoyed by your usual slow closes. You wanted to do a good job with your work and not rush the job, whereas Michelle just wanted to leave as fast as possible. After Sean, your least threatening manager, locked up the shop, the three of you all headed towards the exit. You rode your bike to work, since your mother almost never lent you the family car, but at night you felt less and less comfortable riding home. Sometimes Sean would offer you a ride, but ever since he and Michelle started hooking up, the rides got less and less frequent and when they did happen, Sean would spend the whole time complaining about the ambiguity of his relationship with Michelle. You didn’t take the rides home too often anymore. Not that one would be offered tonight, Michelle had latched herself onto his arm and had nuzzled so deep into his neck that you wondered if she could even see where she was going.

“You want a ride, Y/N?” Sean called as you exited into the parking lot. Sean’s burgundy pickup truck was parked so close to the doors and your legs were so tired. But taking the ride home meant that you’d either have to sit next to them on the front seat or in the trunk part with your bike. And neither option sounded too much better than peddling home.

“Nah, thanks though, I’d rather ride home.” You said with a smile, heading over to the bike racks and pulling the key out from around your neck and off your head, jabbing it into the padlock and clicking the lock open, wrapping the chain around the neck of your bike.

“You sure? It’s pretty dark already...” Sean replied, looking around the desolate parking lot, more concerned than he really needed to be.

“Baby, she said she’s fine.” Michelle said, resting a hand on his chest. Sean didn’t argue passed that and you turned on your bright bike light, swinging your leg over the seat and propped your foot on the peddle, pushing off.

You sped home, making it back to your house in record time. Your mother had left you a note by the door, explaining that she’d taken your younger sister to ballet class and she’d be home late. You crumpled up the note paper, tossing it into the waste paper bin by the powder room door, climbing the stairs and heading into the bathroom, turning on the hot water in your tub and letting it start to fill up. You were rifling through the pile of magazines next to your bed, trying to find the latest issue of cosmo you’d nicked from the corner store just a couple days ago.

Across town, Steve was hiding in his room. His father had ripped him a new one. Again. Turns out, his sailor suit was still laughable a month in to him having to wear it. He still wasn’t over the fact that Steve hadn’t gotten into college and he couldn’t get a better job than ice cream scooper part time. His standards of jobs in Hawkins was a bit too high, in Steve’s opinion. Still, his degrading of him at every turn was getting exhausting. He flopped on his mattress pitifully.

“This whole summer has been a nightmare…” you both muttered, you as you slipped into the steamy water, Steve as he kicked off his thick white socks.

Working at Sam Goody had many perks, like not having a stupid uniform and not smelling like spoiled food all the time, but you spent your time surrounded by assholes. You wanted to meet one nice guy. One guy who didn’t leer down your top and talk to your tits, who didn’t smirk at you or call you ‘baby’, ‘sugar’, or ‘honey’. Just one descent guy who’d treat you like a person instead of a sex doll. God, you would’ve said yes to Harrington if you weren’t working, at least at first. Once he pulled the macho, ‘I know you want me baby’ shit you were out completely. But for a second, when he was rambling on about Dawn of the Dead, you felt like you could stomach a night out or two with him

Meanwhile, Steve just wanted to feel like himself again. His whole last year of high school had been hell on his confidence. First, Nancy dumps him, then Billy Hargrove takes over his team and steals all his friends, then he didn’t get into college, and then Scoops Ahoy? It was all too much. He’d never felt like a loser in his life. He used to be liked, he used to be popular. And yeah, being popular didn’t really matter anymore, but for one last summer before everything changed on him, he wanted to be someone again. Just for a minute. And maybe that’s why he was acting like such an asshole. Because he needed some control over his life. He wished he could’ve gotten in under control when he was talking to the pretty girl in the record store, he made himself into such a douche. That wasn’t who he was, but she didn’t know that. God, he wanted to curl up into a ball and die.

You turned your head up to the ceiling, letting your sweaty neck stick to the cold tile behind your head. You didn’t want to go to work the next day, at least you had the morning shift. Tracey Lords would hopefully make into her shift that day. She hated opening shifts, so the pair of you often traded. You’d still have to stay behind if you got a bit of a rush, which you were expecting. Tomorrow was Friday, when the buses filled with the townies from the neighbouring towns and cities, all coming to bask in the free A/C and glorious shopping experiences. You hated Fridays, they always brought in the worst types of people, mostly shoplifters, who totally ruined your sales for the week. You vowed to stop stealing magazines from the Pick n’ Save after you saw your commission rates plummet after last Friday and a terrible group of greedy kids stole up your section.

Steve really didn’t want to go to the mall at all the next day, if only because he didn’t want to see you in his stupid sailor and hat, walking around like the geek of the week. He just wanted to hide away every shift. But the malls back hallways didn’t lead to any bathrooms, so he was forced to wander the mall like an idiot every time he needed to alleviate himself. He didn’t want you to see him like that. His confidence was already so low, he didn’t need to crumble up what was left of it.

Steve fell asleep that night with dreams of a face, undefined beyond a set of eyes, a nose, and a wide smile. No matter what he said in the dream, the person, a girl his dream decided for him, just smiled and laughed. The eyes were so deep and wide, they took up most of his memory of the dream, although he couldn’t even really place the colour of them, just that they looked at him so lovingly. The way he longed for someone to look at him. He woke up the next morning still in his sailor suit, with the eyes following him to work.

Across town, you woke up from a deep, dreamless sleep. You woke up well rested for the first time in weeks, it was as though someone slipped a sleeping pill in your bath water the night before and it sent you crashing into the pillow with your whole body ready and willing to sleep. You went into work happier than ever, high on the endorphins a good night’s sleep gave you.

Both you and Steve left for work at the exact same time that morning, unaware of your paths even crossing. You headed upstairs to meet Toby, who had the keys to unlock the store, and set to work straightening up the shop and opening your register for the day. Kim Rein sauntered in twenty minutes late, fifteen minutes before the mall opened and you tried not to give her too much side eye. Steve started his own open a level below, restocking cones and cups and filling his soap and sanitizer buckets under the counter.

Once the mall opened, you suffered through four hours of stupid people with stupid questions about terrible albums. You sold three copies of Kate Bush’s Running Uphill, which was an accomplishment for you, since her last album was the only popular due to the hilariously weird Wuthering Heights. You were bored by two in the afternoon, when Toby finally sent you on break. All you wanted was a damn Orange Julius and you’d pay any amount for one.

Likewise, Steve was very much over his shift around the same time when Robin finally agreed to let him go on his damn break. He just needed to get out of the stupid shop. He was going to go to the cheap vending machine, the one by the cafeteria bathrooms, to get a can of Coke. Both of you headed into the shopping mall, trying to avoid anyone you knew.

Unfortunately, you ran directly into Tommy Hanson.

Tommy Hanson was an asshole and a bully. He didn’t know how to treat anyone decently.  He stepped all over people. Was it any wonder that Carol broke up with him at least twice a year? It just so happened that Carol dumped him during the summer.

And now he was standing in front of you, blocking your way to the sweet, sweet Orange Julius.

“Y/N, baby, looking foxy as always.” He said, running his tongue over his upper lip. He’d stolen that look from Billy Hargrove and it didn’t work for either of them.

“Tommy.” You replied, skirting passed him and into the short line, keeping your eyes on the board above the shop.

“Why you rushing off, baby?” he asked, following behind you “I just wanna talk for a second…” you didn’t reply, ignoring him as best you could. ”You’re stunning, you know that? Absolutely gorgeous…” his eyes ran over your body like a tongue; his gaze was thick and hot, it made you want to cringe and pull away.

“Thank you.” You said shortly, getting to the front of the line and ordering quickly.

“What’d you say we go into the back, fool around for a bit?” he asked in your ear. You grimaced, glaring at him before moving out of the way for the next person.

“Don’t make me puke, Hanson.” You snapped, grabbing your blended drink from the poor server having to watch the scene going on between you and Tommy.

“Aw come on, don’t be such a bitch, Y/N.” Tommy whined, grabbing your drink from your hands “You know you want to...”

You reached for your drink, but Tommy just pulled it away. God, he was such a damn child. “Tommy, give me back my drink.” You said sternly.

“Come with me, I’ll give it back when we’re done, you’ll need it more then anyway.” He replied cheekily.

Steve saw this scene going down from the vending machine. He contemplated going over there when Tommy first walked over; he knew that the guy had gotten pretty scummy since he started hanging out with Billy. But when he starting grabbing things from you and taunting you, Steve couldn’t help but go over there.

“Dude,” Steve said, grabbing the drink out of Tommy’s hand, hovering over him. “You wanna try to get a decent personality?”

You looked between the pair of them, trying to decide if you could run off while they were arguing. But you paid good money for that drink and you really wanted it. You realized quickly that Tommy wasn’t going to let this go, and you really couldn’t stand the kid as is. You made your move fast.

“Steve!” you gasped with a shrill giggle “There you are!” you walked over to him, taking the drink he offered shyly and wrapping an arm around his waist. “So are you gonna take me out this weekend or not?” you asked, batting your eyelashes up at him. Steve looked utterly startled, but he didn’t react poorly.

“Course, darling...” he cooed. Steve could’ve died; you made such a disgusted face at the nickname he would’ve happily melted into the tile and be mopped up by Larry the janitor. But you didn’t pull your arm away.

“Walk me back to work?” You asked sweetly. Steve nodded, not trusting himself to not say anything embarrassing. You waved to Tommy, letting Steve lead you away from him, taking a long sip from your drink. It was already melting, but it was still sweet and cold, so you didn’t mind. And Steve had helped you out, although somewhat unwillingly, which was certainly an improvement.

Steve looked back only once, but the look on Tommy’s face was priceless. He looked so annoyed and more than a little broken up about his snatching away of you. His ego hadn’t been this inflated since October of last year. He felt like he was on cloud nine, like he was finally himself again. And even when you let him go, he still felt good about himself.

“Thanks for the help, Harrington.” You bit out once you were far enough away from Tommy.

“Sure, no problem. You want me to walk you back upstairs or are you good?” Steve asked, cracking his can of New Coke. He didn’t love New Coke, but it was all the vending machine was serving and he was just desperate enough to drink it.

You sighed “No I’m alright, I’m still on break, so I’m just gonna go hide somewhere.”

“You can hide at Scoops.” Steve blurted. He mentally kicked himself in the ass, it was such a stupid idea. The upstairs stores had break rooms, you didn’t need to hide with him.

You raised an eyebrow, watching him carefully. Steve swallowed, finishing the thought “The place is busy enough as is and if Tommy walks in, well he already thinks something is happened with...us, he won’t try anything else.”

“Won’t your boss get mad if I’m in there, not eating ice cream?” you asked.

“Oh he’s never here. Me and Robin have keys so we switch between opening and closing. You’re totally good.” Steve explained, scuffing the toe of his shoe into the ground, making a black mark on the white and teal tiles.

“Robin...like Robin Buckley?” you asked, stopping dead in the middle of the hall.

“I think that’s her last name?” Steve replied, scrunching up his face in thought.

“Oh I can’t. She hates me. My friend Tammy told everyone in our sophomore year history class that she was weird and avoided her for like a month. I didn’t do shit, but you know, loyalties and shit.” You explained, running your hands through your hair, slightly embarrassed by the memory.

Steve thought for a moment, an idea slowly coming into view. “She won’t even know that you’re there, come on!” he said, grabbing your hand and dragging you off. You gasped, laughing as you ran to keep up with him.

Steve dragged you through the back halls and rooms leading behind the shops. You hadn’t been through the lower level’s back halls and they were much more expansive that the upstairs halls. The whole space still felt eerie, but much cooler than the upper level. Steve pulled you into one of the rooms and you spotted the nautical theming of the shop. Steve rushed and shut a divider themed with dark wood and glass bricks.

“There, she won’t know that you’re here and you can hide from Tommy. Easy.” Steve said proudly, hopping up on the ledge.

“Can’t she hear you talking to someone?” you chuckled, pulling out the awful plastic folding chair and sitting down.

“Eh, we’re busy enough for her to not notice or care. Probably think I’m talking to myself or something.”  

You leaned back in your chair, letting the front legs of the chair raise into the air as you crossed your arms over your chest. “You talk to yourself a lot, Harrington?” you asked cheekily.

Steve shrugged “Only when I’m really trying to break something down.” He replied. You were surprised and a little refreshed by the honesty. You didn’t expect him to be honest with you; you expected him to lie or try to pull some cool line. It was nice that he wasn’t trying so hard.

“What about you? I bet you’re the stone silent type, keeping it all inside.” Steve added, leaning his elbows on his knees.

“You’re not wrong...” you grinned, cocking your head to the side. You let the front legs drop back down to the ground with a tinny smack, your arms unfurling themselves to balance yourself. “But I sing to myself all the time.”

Steve’s grin turned lopsided and you wondered what exactly what was going through his head. “Really?” he asked.

“Yeah...I find it calming. It helps me to focus my mind, sometimes it just a singular line of a song, over and over again until I get whatever I’m trying to do done.”

“Doing a lot of singing nowadays?”

You sighed “Pretty much...you doing a lot of talking?”

“All I do is talk now.”

You nodded to yourself, forcing the chair to turn towards Steve and centring yourself on it, resting your arms on your knees and looking up at him. “Alright, what’s happening with you?” you asked.

Steve turned away slightly “Ah geez...I mean haven’t you heard? I’m like the only guy who didn’t get into any colleges. I’m stuck here for another year, working and trying to get my shit together.” He ran his fingers angrily through his hair, ripping at the strands as if they hurt him personally.

“I mean...that fucking sucks. But you’ll be okay.” You replied “I mean, look on the bright side, you have another year to be something else.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, furrowing his brow.

“You get a fresh start in a world you already know. You don’t have to be the jerk everyone in school knew you as. And you don’t have to mope around either. You can just be...you.” You smiled to yourself over that answer. Steve had given you a hard puzzle to solve, and while you couldn’t solve it for him, you were glad to have an answer at all.

Steve chuckled, although he wasn’t sure why, nor did you. “Oh yeah? And who is me?” he asked.

You shrugged “I have no idea. I don’t think most people do.”

Steve’s expression changed to one you couldn’t read. He nodded to himself, leaning back onto the glass. He let out a deep sigh “Honestly? I don’t even know anymore...” That wasn’t a shock to you, but you didn’t say that out loud. Steve cracked a smirk “Who did you think I was?”

“Oh...I have no idea.” You leaned back in your chair, letting out a big breath “I didn’t really know you, just your reputation. I only knew the bad stuff, which made you seem like an asshole.”

Steve’s smile dropped and he looked away “Yeah...you aren’t the only one who thinks that...” he admitted sadly.

“But...I mean I didn’t have any proof till yesterday. That guy was a real asshole.” Steve’s face dropped further, but you didn’t try ease the blow you’d just sent him.

“Yeah...I’m sorry ‘bout that.” He muttered, looking up to finally meet your eye.

You nodded, sighing softly “It’s alright, no biggie. I get it now.” You said.

Steve found a small smile again “What do you think of this guy?” he asked, unashamed of the slightly embarrassing question.

You placed a finger on your chin, raising your eyes to the ceiling to truly think. “Hmm...I think I like this guy better.”

Steve smirked “Yeah?” he hopped off the ledge, inching towards you. You didn’t move, watching him stalk over to you.

“Just a little...” you pinched your finger and thumb together, showing an inch in between. “I’d like you more if you wore normal clothes.” Steve rolled his eyes, his hands coming cautiously to your face, pulling it up to kiss you. You didn’t resist his grab, easing yourself out of the chair, shoving your hands into your back pockets.

“Alright, what the hell is going on in there?!?!” The divider slammed against its sleeve violently and Steve snapped his head around. Robin was staring at you incredulously. She looked more than a little furious, but it melted away when you met her eye.

“Oh god, really dingus? Her?”  Robin scoffed. Steve merely shrugged, turning his attention back to you without a word.

“You mind shutting the divider, Buckley?” you asked “Harrington’s a bit busy...” you grabbed his fake tie, pulling his lips to yours, the sound of the divider slapping shut the only sound left in the room.

[painandpleasure86]

My new neighbor it's my crush (Deazzello week 2020)

Author's note: Hi people! I'm participating of this ship week hosted by @roger-taylors-car ❤️ I took the prompt "Neighbors" and kinda the one "First time" from day 2. First fic of this ship that I post! (I have a drabble from Christmas that I never posted lol)

Summary: the Mazzellos are now neighbors of the Deacon. The life of some of them it's about to change.

Warning: none. Just Joey and John being cute.

Word count: +1.6k

Permanent taglist: @warriorteam1924 @toomuchlove-willkillyou (sorry if you aren't comfortable with this ship! You can ignore this fic without problems). If anyone wants to be in my permanent taglist, send me an ask or msg! Warning: I haven't a fic posting schedule :/ lol

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Next to John's house, will have some new neighbors soon. They're a family from USA. The man and his wife were planning to open a dance studio in UK, after the success of their ones in USA. They thought that Europe would be a great new horizon to explore. With the couple came one of their offspring, the young Joseph. He was just 21 years old and he helped to their parents in the studio, also he was trying to have an acting career. He had straight red hair, green eyes and a wide smile in his face. He wasn't so tall, but he was thin.  He could be the funniest one but also the most serious man when it's necessary.

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Was a strangely sunny Saturday in the south of London when the move truck came near to his house. Just for mere curiosity, was to see through his porch. Meanwhile he was smoking a cigarette, with the another hand in his pocket and watching all, came mister Joseph to greet him.

"Oh hello sir. I'm Joseph and we came with our family to live for a while in London" he greeted him, extending his left hand through the railings.

"I'm John. Nice to meet you sir" replied him shaking hands.

After a couple of minutes where the men were talking, the young Joseph came there and he exclaimed so happy "HI MISTER IM JOE!"

His happiness was contagious for John, he smiled, even laughed a little. Joseph was upset.

"Hi Joe, I'm John", he responded with a wide smile.

After that, recognized who were him. That eye crackling was special. That soothing voice too.

"DAD YOU KNOW WHO IS HE?!?! HE'S A ROCK STAR!"

John laughed, half being nice and half uncomfortable.

His father saw to his son pretty upset.

"Joseph, I know who is him! Now, go and help to the movers. Surely will have opportunity to you to chat with him… of course if he wants" ended watching to the bassist.

"Of course, one day you and your family can come for tea time!" he said kindly.

Ronnie was watching the scene and decided to approach to it.

She exclaimed "oh, you're the new neighbors. I'm Veronica, but you can call me Ronnie".

Joseph shaked hand with the mistress just smiling politely. When was Joe's turn, he said "nice to meet you Ronnie. I'm Joe! Oh, lemme tell ya, you're pretty!"

Ronnie blushed a little for the unexpected compliment.

Ending the hand shake, she added "you're so sweet Joe!" Watching to John, she said "we should invite to this men and the rest of their family one day!". Her husband nodded and she, watching to the another men, told "tomorrow at 5 o'clock suits fine to you?"

The American men nodded, Joe pretty excitedly. He loved to meet new people, and more if it's one of his music idols. 

When the Mazzello men came back to the move, Joe exclaimed "Dad why you didn't told me that we would be deaky's neighbors?!"

Joseph watched to his son very serious.

"Joe, really you ask that? You acted like a fan! That man it's also a person, he deserves more respect!"

Joe stayed in silence.

His father continued talking.

"Tomorrow, behave please. Act like an adult."

"If act like an adult it's always being boring, I prefer to be a teen forever!" said Joe pissed.

-------

After a long day, Joe could rest in his room. He puts his old Queen posters and one of John closer to his bed. He wanted to be in that tea thing, but more for the man that will be the host. That 40-ish old man, with white-ish hair and simple clothes still make things to him. Perhaps more than when he discovered that pics with the white jumpsuit. That pics with the I want to break free video and song were his sexual awake. He recognized that he wasn't a straight boy. 

"I really want to hug him at least… feel that arms around me would make me happy" he thought , watching to the roof. A deep sigh escaped of him. A wide smile in his face.

Imagining romantic scenarios with that man made him sleep deeply, despite the remaining jet lag. 

John was trying to sleep and that redhead boy came to his mind. "Deaks, not that again… you love your family. Indeed you have a son that's near to the age of that guy. Don't be impulsive. What would happen if that guy it's straight or he just was nice? Try to sleep please" he was thinking. He was having an internal debate and that was noticeable to the outside. Ronnie noticed that.

"John, are you okay?"

He couldn't be fully sincere, so he lied partially.

"I think that was pretty impulsive to let to that people come to our house… Isn't my style"

She watched to him "relax John, was so nice from you. Plus they look like a kind people".

John, trying to be funny, said "oh that's why the guy told a compliment to you, when you looks like a living disaster…" and smiled.

Ronnie didn't liked that joke and when she was about to respond, Cameron started to cry in the next room.

"Cam saved you this time John".

And he was alone with his own thoughts. 

"Better of that way…" he thought meanwhile his wife was to lull to their baby.

-----------------

Sunday Afternoon came and no one was lazing. Ronnie and John, meanwhile preparing the things for the tea time and care of their youngest children. Elder ones, were pissed for the visit. Except Laura. "A boy in the house that aren't my brothers, I hope that he looks cute" thought smiling the girl, meanwhile she was doing her outfit.

Her mom saw her and told to the girl "Laura, the guy haves like 20 years and you're only 14…"

"Don't care mum. Perhaps in some years we can be together…"

"Laura, you didn't saw him and you're already planning that kind of things… real life isn't like the movies"

"I SAID DON'T CARE MUM! LET ME BE HAPPY. YOU BETTER GO AND TAKE CARE OF LUKE AND CAM!" screamed the girl, really pissed.

"Behave Laura. You can't talk to me like that! One more of that and you will not have your new walkman to your next birthday!" and the woman was downstairs.

The little girl didn't suspected that also her father was interested in that guy. That chance never passed for her mind. Like her mom said, real life isn't like the movies shows. And was about to witness that, without knowing.

The Mazzellos were preparing their outfits. Joe one was a beautiful black shirt, denim jeans, white sneakers and wearing his favorite parfum. His mother saw him and told "Joey, why that parfum? That one it's for special occasions" 

"Mom, we will have tea time with him, that isn't enough reason?"

His mom smiled.

"Haha, I forgot how much you love that band and that man… as a musician of course. I hope you don't misunderstood me!" and leave to her son alone.

Meanwhile, he was putting in practice his acting lessons to rehearsal how to say his feelings to that man. His mirror was the witness. And he forgot the door slightly open...

His dad caught him saying "I really love you since a lot of time…" to the mirror and he hawked to make notorious his presence.

"Joe, practice your script for the audition in the night, now it's time for the tea with the neighbors".

"Yeah, script… was the script of my own life that I was practicing" thought the boy.

--------------------------

The moment came. The tea time was there. 

Both families around the table of the living room, starting to have a nice time. Robert, Michael and Joshua were pretty upset. Laura was happy. "That guy looks so beautiful. It's so cute!" she thought meanwhile she greeted him. Same thing was thinking her dad…

In some moment of the tea time, Joe asked for the bathroom. Ronnie pointed the guest bathroom. Moments later, John get up of the couch with the excuse to bring more muffins.

Meanwhile Joe was going to the living, saw John in the kitchen. "It's now or never Joey" thought.

The redhead was in John's direction. 

"Mister… can I ask you something?"

Leaving the tray with muffins, John said "go ahead man" and smiled. That sweet smile that Joe always loved.

Joe blushed a little.

"Can I hug you?"

John was surprised for that question. But also kinda happy.

"Of course" and he extended his arms.

Both hugged. Joe embraced to the old man tight.

And remembering his acting classes to cover his fear, he whispered something to the ear of the man. "I like you. But not like a musician. Thank you for I want to break free, because I knew what really I want… a man like you".

John had his answer. And responded, kinda nervous, in Joe's ear "you're a cute boy. I wanna know you more".

They left the embrace and watched to the another one smiling. When Joey was about to give a kiss in the cheek of John, Laura came to the kitchen.

"What the fuck?!"

"I was about to hug your dad! He's my idol, y'know" Joe replied, winking an eye to the girl.

"Oh sorry!" she exclaimed, blushing a little. And watching now to her dad, she continued "Mum sent to me because you were delaying a lot, dad!".

The men had another hug, but this one was less tighter.

The three were going to the living. Laura in front of them. John watched mischievously to Joe for a moment and made that smirk. 

The three already in the living again. The men pretending like nothing unusual happened. But both of them knew that their lives changed since that moment. And they were prepared to live something that they really wanted…

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Guys, I hope that you like this!!! Reblogs are highly appreciated!!!

-Lily

[judgement-free-sideblog]

Dancing lessons.

Barry Berkman x reader

Hi there! So I was watching Friends yesterday and I came across the one where Joey speaks french, and then I was thinking about how in season 2 Barry already has his Headshots, and I wanted to write something about a false ability he could have put on his resume.

So this will be an 8 part series, and I will try to update it at least twice a week but can't promise anything.

Summary: Barry is finally cast in a feature, the problem? He said he could dance and now he can either disappoint Sally or found a way to learn some steps.

Warnings: Swearing, cheating maybe.

Part 1 ● Part 2 ● Part 3 ● Part 4 ● Part 5 ● Part 6 ● Part 7 ● Part 8 ● Epilogue

Part 1

A sharpie written ad in the door said: "Joe's friend callbacks" that could give him an idea of how unimportant this character was, because so far he didn't even had a name, nevertheless he was happy that they had call him back for a reason other than "You look good on the poster"

Although he was suspicious the "minor" changes Natalie and Sally had convinced him to do to his resume was the reason, he could not blame them, at first the page was empty and depressing, and now he appear to be a very compelling person, maybe someone he would like to be. Someone who could speak french and Italian, and had formal training in at least three styles of dancing, tango, salsa and tap.

Worst case scenario, they had said, there is someone better than you first and is just another bad audition. And so far it hasn't been a problem, people usually overlook that because they didn't need that on their movies.

But now it was different, there was at least three men in front of him and four behind all of them more or less his height and complexion, waiting to re read the lines for the upcoming movie, a place to dare dreaming. As far as he understood it was a drama about a men seeking meaning in life, and Barry was trying to be the best friend's best friend, he would have five scenes in the whole movie and was merely an excuse to make exposition questions and be gone for the rest of the movie.

Not a bad place to start, Sally said, and he might actually make connections and even find an agent. So he was there for some reason dressed with black loose pants and a loose blue shirt, just like the rest of them. Finally after another half hour or so the casting assistant exited the door and call for him.

"Hi, I'm Barry Block, reading for Joe's friend" He said looking at the people behind the table and he notice another woman there dressed as a ballerina, he was not entirely sure why.

"Fine, in this scene you are just finishing dancing with your partner, then Joe" The director point at a man who was already cast as the lead best friend "Yeah, Joe will call you to ask you something and then the scene starts"

Barry did as he was told, and when he was in the middle of telling Joe to go help the lead build the boat of his dreams or something like that the director interrupted him.

"Just one sec, Barry was it?" He said and Barry was already feeling the whole you are not what we are looking for speech coming. "It says here that you dance?"

"Um hum" He muttered every second more disconcerted.

"Tango? Janice you do tango right?" He asked the ballerina.

"No Andre, I only have a career in dance but I don't do tango" She said rolling her eyes "Of course I do" she and when the director look at her in exasperation.

"Then is settled, unless any of the other guys can dance we will go with Mr. Block here"

"Excuse me what?" Barry said a little lightheaded.

"Oh this scene, we originally wanted to have a big ballet dancing sequence that inspire Daniel, the lead to follow his dreams, but we scratched off because of the budget but since you can dance you and Janice can do a small version of it." Talk with Sophie on the way out we start on monday.

"Sure, thanks" he said with a calm voice and walked out to find the cast assistant.

"Mr. Block?" She said now a little more nice than when he entered in the morning. "You'll have to sing some documents and we will be ready"

"Sure, yeah fine, one question tho, what exactly does he mean Andre with me dancing with Janice?" He asked trying to sound casual

"Oh well since they are just adding the sequence I will say that they will tell you exactly what they want in a couple weeks and then you will have to rehearse with Janice and film it by the end of the next month" She said like it was no big deal.

"Two weeks?" He asked again and she could see that he was nervous.

"More or less, but I figure since you are an actual dancer that would be fine right?" He nod not very sure of her statement and she start looking in her purse and finally give him a card. "Look I won't tell you how to do your job, but if by any chance you are not convinced of what to do, you should go here, she may help you"

***

He shut the door of the apartment with enough strength to make one of the frames in the wall shake, of course he was furious. But it wasn't your fault and you wouldn't put up with his temperament. After 5 years of marriage Alan was finally beginning to understand that it was better to walk away and let things cool down before any of you could say something too painful.

And what could you say? You told him before you get married that you didn't want children and he married you anyway. He was not able to change your mind, that was no reason to scream and fight like that. You shake the thoughts from your head and pick up you bag, ready to walk down to the studio.

Your friend Sophie had made you a call earlier asking for your help with another lost case, and usually those pay well so you could surprise Alan with a nice dinner and maybe you would let him convince you to open up at the idea, at least for long enough to live peacefully.

You could tell who your new student was the minute you entered the studio, your assistant was talking with the other couples for the romantic dance lessons and he was in a corner looking at the door like he was planning an escape.

You take the attending list and seek for his name, Barry Block, you hope is not a sing of how hard will it be to make him move, but his large frame was telling you it will.

"Mr. Block?" You called him apart once you were dress in more comfortable clothes, he walked towards you and you could see he was at least 1 feet taller than you. "You work with Sophie right?"

"I do, I ... she said you could help me amm..."

"To make your dancing believable, yes, don't worry you are not the first nor the last actor that lies on an audition, but for future reference put something more achievable like learn Russian" You said part serious part kidding "Learning tango is complicated and demanding, is not just sexy dresses and fancy music, but since this is the land of dreams I can teach you a couple things"

"That would be great, and again I'm so embarrassed that this happened, but I need the job"

"Well that's another sad part of the story this class ain't cheap, and there's only so little I can do for you in three weeks"

"That's not a problem" He said immediately and took a little envelope from his pocket and gave it to you "This is for the first two lessons"

"Excellent, then we can start" You look at his clothes, jeans and a hoodie and very uncomfortable sneakers "You may need to change, and also stretch a little, we don't want accidents" you pointed to the dressing room and let him borrow a more lose pant and proper dancing shoes.

You finishes your lesson with the other couples and after and hour he, you and Macy your assistant were the only ones there.

"Ok for starters, that's not stretching" you told him once you saw he couldn't reach his toes. "Come sit here" You told him and sit in the middle of the floor with your legs completely extended and asked him to do the same.

"I'm not very use to this, I'm in shape as much as I can but this is different" He said awkwardly trying to reach his toes the way you did yours.

"If you don't mind me asking Mr. Block, why do you need the job?" You said standing up and helping him bend his back. "I don't think they will pay you more than I'm taking from you"

"Is not about the money" he said simply and took the hand you offered him to stand. "I need to prove myself I can be an actor, a real one, also my girlfriend is recording a show and I..." he star touching his hair distracted.

"You don't want to be left behind? Yeah I know what is like" You said to him. "Well in that case I would do my best, but for real you have to stop being so rigid" you said taking him by the hips and he flinch with surprise to then let go a chuckle

"I'm sorry" He said and you nodded and put your hands on his hips again "First we are going to have to work on that posture, lower just a bit your hips and bend your knees" You said pushing him down a bit.

"Like this" he said flexing down so much that he was almost at your height.

"Not at all, I'll show you, Macy come here" You call the girl who was already hiding her laugh behind a magazine, she put on some music on his phone into the speakers and walked towards you.

You took her by the waist and started just making simple walks at the rhythm of the music, showing him how he had to bend his knees but not making it all that evident, then when the next song star going faster you started making more quick moves and shen it turn slow you drag your leg inside slowly, and embraced Macy pulling her closer to you.

"Ok, I can definently not do that" he said once you were done, and you felt flattered to se some amusement in his face.

"I know, but we will figure something out" you smile at him and turn off the music to again trying to make him bend his knees properly.

[embcrry]

ok thisss took wayyy longer than i’d expected . like it’s fucking midnight ? like guys im such a mess omfg . anywaysss * tana mongeau vc “ welcome to my trash bin daught or welcome back to my trash bin daughter ... what ? was ? that ? idfk . if you wanna plot with my overly tired ass give this post a like and i’ll love you down i promise !! also i apologize for how long this intro is going to be in advance !

new york’s very own  𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐄 " 𝐄𝐌𝐌𝐀 " 𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 was spotted on broadway street in 𝘓𝘖𝘜𝘉𝘖𝘜𝘛𝘐𝘕 𝘌𝘓𝘖𝘐𝘚𝘌 𝘉𝘖𝘖𝘛𝘚  . your resemblance to barbara palvin is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃  birthday bash . while living in nyc , you’ve been labeled as being guarded , but also dependable  . i guess being a 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be  𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘶𝘱, 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘫𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘯 + 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘴  .  &  ( female & she/her  )  +  ( faith , 21 , she/her , est . )

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

FULL NAME : emilie sierra berry . NICKNAME : emma , em , emma bear ( by her little sister ) . BIRTH DATE : march 1st , 1998 . AGE : 22 . GENDER : female ( cis ) . PRONOUNS : she + her . ORIENTATION :  pansexual ( attractions are equal ) , panromantic ( leans more toward women ) . BIRTH PLACE : brisbane , australia ( see home here ) . the family still owns this house but don’t use it much . HOMETOWN : new york city ( upper west side ) , new york ( see home here ) . her dad + little sister still live here today . CURRENT LOCATION : new york city ( upper east side ) , new york ( see home here ) . moved in one year ago after break up . EDUCATION LEVEL : highschool diploma .   OCCUPATION : olympic swimmer ( emulated after katie ledecky ) , socialite , escort ( no one knows ) . NET WORTH : 32million ( every year up until she’s twenty five she receives a percentage of her trust fund ) . FAMILY NET WORTH : 3.1billion ( father ) , 4.8billion ( mother + step - father ) . PARENTS : adrian berry ( father , 51 , hedge fund manager ) , natasha laffont ( mother , 48 , former super model + philanthropist ) , thomas laffont ( step - father , 50 ,  businessman + art collector ) . SIBLINGS : tatiana berry ( sister , 10 , student + ballet dancer ) , bradley laffont ( step-brother , 24 , new york rangers player ) . PETS : jagger ( ragdoll cat , picture ) , maggie ( pomeranian - husky , picture ) . NATIONALITY : australian - american . ETHNICITY : hungarian . CLOTHING STYLE : expensive yet casual ; alot of black , hoodies , leather is a staple , high end sneakers , boots , colorful suits . JEWELRY : gold ; dangly earring , cartier bracelet , tiffany rings , barbell nipple piercings. DIET : pescitarian , no dairy ( lactose intolerant ) . WORK OUT HABITS : six times a week ( mostly boxing + swimming  ) . PERSONALITY : guarded ; there is nothing emma hates more than talking about her feelings or letting anyone know who she’s feeling , she has trouble trusting people for good reason ( the girls trust issues have trust issues yall ) + dependable ; if you need anything in the world go to emma she will move mountains to get shit down for you , she’s very punctual , and super disciplined probably due to being an olympian + goofy ; she doesn’t take much too seriously tbh , ( similar to joey + phoebe from friends ) she can be a bit of a space cadet and that always ends in her making everyone laugh + stubborn ; one thing is for sure about emma she’s extremely hard headed , loves getting her way , and is incredibly unforgiving . 

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘 ( in bullets )

her parents met during college , where they both attended princeton university . natasha , her mom , was in the middle of her modeling career completely blowing up while adrian was already setting the foundation of his investment company . they had a whirlwind romance and were married just a year after adrian graduated from princeton . both coming from old money , emma’s grandparents on both sides are extremely meticulous about the image of their family + so the same mentality was instilled in adrian + natasha .

 emma spent the first nine years of her life in brisbane , australia . her parents had moved out to australia just a couple years before she was born for the sake of making her father’s company an international success . 

with her parents always off doing something , emma was raised by her nanny + butler . when she was six she expressed her desire to get into swimming after watching michael phelps in the 2004 summer olympics . she was in absolute awe by him + wanted to be just like him . so the next day her nanny spoke to her parents and later that day she was enrolled into a local swimming program .

when she was nine her parents broke the news to her that they were moving to new york . at first she wasn’t all too mad about the move , she didn’t have many friends in school , wasn’t a big fan of her teachers , and knew the one thing she loved she could still do in new york . her outlook on the move changed when she found out that her nanny + butler would not be making the move across the equator with them though . how dare her parents steal the only people who’d ever taken care of her away from her ? she thought . she threw an absolute fit in protest ; completely wrecking the home + locking herself away in the bathroom in her room for nearly 20 hours before her nanny talked her into coming out . 

once in new york , emma was miserable . she had tantrums everyday and even stopped swimming for a few months . what inevitably pulled her out of her funk was a trip disneyland paris + her mom bringing her out to buy a whole new wardrobe . yall ever heard of a spoiled brat ?

once she was open to the idea of new york she kind of fell in love with the city , to be honest . she grew close to her new nanny + butler , of course and fell in love with her new swimming coach .

when she was fourteen her parents got a divorce and just six months later her mom was married to a billionaire living in connecticut with a son just two years older than emma . anyone with a brain could put together that her mom had been cheating on her dad , that was except for her dad who’d fallen into denial that his ex - wife would come back . 

[ trigger warning : alcoholism , child abuse , violence ] after months of listening to her father , emma broke , the two got in a huge screaming match about how her mom wasn’t coming back saying things like “this is so pathetic, stop graveling over a women who doesn’t want you” + “she doesn’t want you” + “just move on, she’s never coming back, she’s fucking an art collector in connecticut”. mind you she’s fourteen talking to her dad like this , yikes . he started spiraling after that , drinking heavily , doing coke more than just at events , and when emma copped an attitude he’d hit her . it started with just a rough slap , pushing her into the pool or down the stairs , and then it turned into punching her . it got so bad her coach started noticing during swim practices and inevitably threatened her dad , either he let her move in with him or he’d call the police . so , not wanting a tarnished reputation , her dad sent her off to live with her swim coach .

[ trigger warning : grooming ] life with her swim coach was cool , she got to swim alot more plus he was extremely high profile due to sending swimmers to the olympics as well acting in a few movies so she got to go to alot of events with him all across the world . she enjoyed her time with him more than she’d enjoyed the entirety of her life and then he got her to the 2012 olympics in london + her trust and appreciation for him sky rocketed . in her eyes no one int he world could or did love her more .

coming back from the olympics , her had fully sobered up and was ready to bring emma back home .  her and her coach weren’t completely gun ho for the move but she inevitably moved back home with her father .

[ trigger warning : statutory rape ] just a month after being back home , her coach started being a little too touchy with her . she felt uncomfortable by his advances but figured her was only taking care of her . then he kissed her and she was pretty creeped out so she asked what he was doing , basically the creep told her he was just missing her alot because she wasn’t living with him and reminded her about how he was really the only person who cared about her . she accepted what he said and soon after they started sleeping together regularly . he didn’t even have to tell her not to tell anyone , she innately knew if she ever told anyone he wouldn’t be her coach anymore and emma just wasn’t willing to lose the best coach she’d ever had . this continued for a little over a year until she went to the doctors and her mom went with her , her mom stayed in the room because the check up wasn’t all that invasive + then when her doctor asked her if she was sexually active her mom answered no but emma , not wanting to lie , stayed silent . she inevitably confessed at the appointment that she was sexually active . her mom freaked out and wanted to know who but of course emma didn’t spill that . she inevitably lied and said some guy she went to school with . within a week her mom found out she lied and refused to let emma go anywhere until she confessed who she was sleeping with . knowing her mom wouldn’t let up she told her it was her coach + that it wasn’t a big deal . but emma knew it was . her mom gave her coach an ultimatum he either quit coaching for good or she’d turn him in . she he quit and emma never heard from him again . 

she stopped talking to her more directly after that + stopped going back to connecticut for the weekends like she had been since her parents divorce . she was now sixteen without a swimming coach + completely mad at the world .  she’d had a rough few years , to say the least . she turned to partying , HEAVY , to cope with it all . she slept with anyone who so much as gave her a second look she didn’t care if they were older than her , had a girlfriend / boyfriend , if you were into her you could have her . it took her almost five months before she committed to a swim coach + they really whipped her back into shape . no more partying , emma went from school to practice and then home . it was awfully boring for the new party girl but she had one of the best coaches in the world + they promised to stop coaching her had she not listened to their every word . the only thing she cared more about then letting loose was going to another olympics . 

she attended a private school in manhattan where she completely smashed each and everyone of the school, districts , and state records in swimming . she was never big into her academics but she upheld a b average for the sake of being able to stay on the schools swimming team . if she received anything less than a b she would guilt her dad into giving her school a donation so they’d give her the grade she felt she deserved . 

she graduated from highschool in 2016 and although she was accepted into multiple schools across the nation , with athletic full ride offers from each school  , but she inevitably declined each school because she did want to spend another second behind a desk . knowing her dad would never approve of her not going to college , with his ivy league education ass , she lied to him and said she was attending nyu . 

she went to the 2016 olympics in rio and completely dominated ( 4 gold medals , 1 silver + breaking five world/olympic/american records in the meets ) . 

just months in 2017 her dad started to pick up on her lie about attending college . telling her she needed to enroll immediately or he’d cut her off . calling his bluff she didn’t enroll . she quickly learned that he wasn’t bluffing when he completely cut her off , telling her she had a month to find a place to live and move out .  

thanks to her olympics money + her endorsements with tyr sports + adidas she had enough money to get an apartment but her saving would deplete quick so she knew she needed to do something to make alot of money + quick .

desperate and running out of time emma joined seeking arrangements under an alias as sierra meyers . there were a few success and plenty of total blunders on the site but she got lucky with the first women she met with who offered to get her into escorting . emma didn’t even give it a second thought before she said yes , the only thing she asked is that the clientele not want her to attend highly publicized events with her as she's quickly get caught due to her socialite status   . 

within a year she’d made half of what her entire lifes work had made her , she grew obsessed with escorting and what made it crazy was there were people who would pay her half a million just to have dinner and talk with her . of course , those were the unicorns though because most wanted to sleep with her at the end of the night . 

when she turned twenty one her dad gave in and gave her back her blackcard + even offered to move her back into the house , she took the credit card but decided to continue living outside of his walls . 

she could’ve quit escorting right then and there , but she’d grown an addiction if you will to her work . there was something about the secrecy of it + her ability to make millions so easily that kept her going .

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

former roommate ; these two moved in together after her dad kicked her out + even though she moved in with someone else months after they signed the lease she payed them for her half of the rent for the rest of the lease , ex ; they dated when she was cut off by her dad + they inevitably moved into together they could of had a rocky or really good relationship by broke up around this time last year , the guy she “ lost “ her virginity to ; he didn’t actually take her virginity , in truth these two could very well have never even slept together but he’s the guy she lied to her about sleeping with to cover up sleeping with her coach he found out about her lie when emma’s mom asked his parents if he was sleeping with emma we can decide where things went from there between these two , suspicious friend ; they’re starting to pick up on her random disappearing + secrecy , maybe they start following her at some point and inevitably confront her about escorting or maybe they think she’s doing something else and accuse her of that ? , first girlfriend , more exes , people she’s slept with , someone who she slept with + they had a significant other , fellow olympians , travel buddy , podcast co-host ; these two came up with an idea recently to start a podcast , they haven't released it just yet but it’d be similar to call her daddy / impulsive !

[neshabeingchildish]

Hensley & Char: Friends or Whatever || Part 1

@henryharts @junknstu1f @ciara-knightly @sunbeameyes @kiddangers @bitchmilsky @just-a-j-reallly

I only tagged the people who expressed interest and my known ladygaze. If anybody else wants in, just let me know in your review.If I tagged you and you want out, same. Thanks. Where the story starts, they’re about 10, because I feel like in canon, we find that Jasper and Henry have been friends their whole lives, but it always seems like Charlotte’s known them less time, and the earliest I can remember is maybe 5th grade when they’re talking about something happening with Bysh? It could have been earlier whenever that girl’s birthday party Henry nearly killed her, but I only watched that episode once and that was years ago, so I’m starting them here at 10/5th grade.

Fashion Exchange Student

Hensley didn’t know WHAT she was thinking whenever she went school shopping this year. Maybe about the fact that your younger sister, Piper, the one of the two of them with an eye for fashion told her that she was going to be popular for looking like a dirty lead singer of a 90s grunge band. Hensley wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but it got into her head and whenever they were out shopping, she dared to pick out a couple of skirts, and more unwisely, to wear one to school the first day.

Her whole outfit was emotionally uncomfortable, from the moment she spent time trying to accessorize up through the minute she figured out that she couldn't walk in anything but sneakers. So, those cute boots that Piper picked out? Hensley kept slipping with them on. She did this enough that she slipped, and barely missed an ill-placed bench wet paint and got the bottom of the skirt touched by it. 

She looked down and behind herself and tried to cover up with her backpack. Why was the paint red? People were gonna think things! She was never listening to Piper again. Who listens to their six year older sister for social advice anyway???

She supposed she could change into her gym shorts… but that might look even stupider. "Are you having a crisis?" She heard a tiny voice ask. She glanced around until she saw where the little chipmunk sound had come from. 

It was the bookworm. Starlette? No. Scarlett? Yeah. That was it. "Nope. No crisises this fine first day of class…" Hensley awkwardly lied.

After staring at what was obviously Hensley Hart having a crisis, she decided that if the girl lied, she didn’t want her help. “Okay. Because you looked pretty put out by that red paint on the back of your skirt," Scarlett said, returning to her large book, her glasses in the tip of her nose until she pushed them up.

Hensley returned to her crisis. And a crisis it WAS. She took off her pink plaid over shirt and prepared to tie it around her waist… "We don't know what kind of paint it is. You could ruin the shirt too if you put it against the paint," Scarlett told her, not looking up from the book. 

It was one of those ancient mythology young adult series, Hensley noted.. unsure of why she noted this, but shook it from her head to ask, "As the only person here right now with a brain, what do you suggest?"

"Cut off the bottom of the skirt and wear the extra as a headband," she said, with a shrug. "Or turn the skirt into a pair of shorts with a set of safety pins… paperclips if safety pins are unavailable."

"WHAT? These are my new school clothes! My mom would flip!" Hensley paced, covering her backside with her backpack, noticed a little paint had been transferred to the bag and let out a tiny shriek that made Scarlett jump. 

"Do you need help, Hensley?" She asked, once again.

"I need all the help I can get! I normally wouldn't care, but people are gonna think.." 

"That you've had a menstrual accident."

"When you say it like that, it sounds even worst! Please help me!" 

When she closed her book and put it away, she pulled out scissors, "Headband option or shorts option?"

"I don't have any safety pins."

"I do."

"You just… carry them?" Hensley asked.

"I'm a very unique size where I have to either buy clothes for much younger kids and look like a 7 year old, or be swallowed by clothes made for people our age. Safety pins hold things in place if something happens with big clothes that I haven't properly taken in, since I’m teaching myself to sew and haven’t gotten too far yet.."

"Wow. That's. Very strange…"

"Headband or shorts option??!" Scarlett practically squealed, impatient.

"Shorts!" 

Hensley allowed her mini savior to take her into the girls locker room and changed into her gym shorts while she worked. "It'll look thrown together, but you can always just say it's an upcycle aesthetic. That’s what I’ve been doing all summer and no one is the wiser yet. Also… scrape the bottom of your boots against the concrete so you can eliminate that slip."

Hensley followed instructions and then changed into the pinned together shorts which… actually were pretty cute. The scruffiness of it looked purposeful and that kind of style generally ran for hundreds of dollars in the stores, AND scuffing the bottom of her boots made them walkable. She picked up the girl and spun her around and gave her a kiss, "You are a hero, Scarlett!" 

Being caught totally off guard by being whisked up and casually smooched by a stranger was uncomfortable, but the thing that caught her attention was... "Scarlett? Did you just call me Scarlett?" Her face gave away that this was in fact NOT her name.

Hensley winced, "Is it Starlette?"

The girl frowned, "It's. Charlotte." She grabbed her bag, insulted and began to leave the locker room. Hensley grabbed her bag too and gave chase.

"Hey! I happen to think that I was pretty close."

"And I guess that would be fine if we haven't gone to school together for years!" 

"Well… I don't think I ever had the chance to know it before…"

"I sat right behind you in three classes," Charlotte complained.

Hensley laughed, "Why? Were you stalking me?" She stopped smiling whenever her short new friend turned suddenly to look her directly in the eyes with her frustrations.

"No. I was seated in the front and every teacher always had to make us shift because you would either fall asleep, get caught texting, or consistently talk to Jasper Dunlop in class." They tried to make us switch, but you always picked a seat too far away from the lesson, so the person behind me had to go to your seat instead."

"You're… kinda uptight, huh?" Hensley asked.

Charlotte turned around, an angry looking little adorable person and Hensley braced herself for tiny girl rage. 

But, it would have to wait. Because Chloe Hartman squealed and came rushing between the two of them, ignoring Charlotte completely and cheering, "Ohmygosh, Hensley! Those shorts are SO. FUN. Such fashion sense! I'm impressed. And the boots go SO WELL with the outfit! I guess you're not gonna do the Hensley Hart uniform this year!" They laughed, with Hensley blushing and Charlotte rolled her eyes and left.

Chloe intertwined her fingers with Hensley's and said, "Come sit with us! You're a cute girl now!" Chloe took Hensley with her towards where she and her friends waited for the first bells and Hensley watched Charlotte throw her hands up in disbelief, shake her head at the situation and then return to her spot to read in peace, probably vowing never to help some idiot in a crisis again. But, Hensley didn’t pull away from Chloe or go to check on Charlotte. She didn’t really know Charlotte, and she had been trying to know Chloe better since they were 8. She just choked down feeling bad about this and decided to enjoy the girls who were swooning over her new “shorts.”

.

The day went by okay. The safety pin shorts were a huge hit. She was in class with Jasper, laughing and talking as quietly as they could, with a clear view of Chloe, who kept looking back to smile at her, when Charlotte walked into the classroom with a piece of paper to hand to the teacher. "Miss Page..  you've already been asked to leave a class?" The teacher asked, looking at it.

"Are you a teacher that allows us to answer questions?" Charlotte asked as a reply. "The last teacher wasn't and I was only asked to leave because he wasn't qualified to answer my questions about the lesson plan." 

"Take a seat," the teacher said, already exhausted by the infamous student who always knew everything. 

Charlotte faced the class and saw an empty seat in front of Jasper. She bit her lip and went to sit. "Hi, Charlotte!!!" Jasper cheered. "So cool that we're in class together again! Did you… always have those glasses?"

"No," she said. 

"When'dya get 'em? This summer? Don't you go to like space camp or something for the summer? Did you get them at space camp? OH! Did you get them FOR space camp??"

"That was a lot of questions, Jasper. Yes, I got them this summer. I always go on a learning expedition every summer, not necessarily space camp… but, yes, this summer I was at space camp, where I did not get them, and I didn’t get them FOR space camp. I got them for reading…" she said, flattered that at least SOMEONE remembered something about her. In that moment, she dared a look at Hensley, who was just giving her a small, polite, slightly still embarrassed smile. She was oblivious to the fact that Charlotte had been stewing all morning that she didn’t even know her name and just left her in her upset to hang out with girls that she knew would never have paid attention to her without Charlotte’s help...

“Well, they look good on you. I also love the upcycle look of your oversized sweater with the pins… Is that an homage to Madonna?” Jasper asked, cutting into Charlotte’s revisit to Hensley’s audacity. 

“Charlotte, do I need to sit you in the front of the room?” The teacher asked. 

“Yes, please!” She cheered. She knew it was because he thought that she was talking, but she liked being in the front of the class and Jasper didn’t seem like he was going to stop talking any time soon. Charlotte collected her things, chose a seat up front and said, “He said to move it,” to Chloe. She liked to sit in the front of the class to be noticed by everyone. She barely cared about seeing the board or reading the teacher’s face and body language. And to be honest, Charlotte didn’t really realize it herself consciously, but she was mad at Chloe for interrupting her discussion with Hensley this morning and just stealing her away before things were settled.

Whenever she went to sit by Jasper and Charlotte sat up front, she heard them immediately talking, “She’s kinda mean, huh?” Chloe asked.

Jasper said, “She can be, but I don’t think that she means anything by it. She’s just not used to having to talk to people. She’s an only child and doesn’t really have friends.”

Hensley said, “I think she’s nice. She’s known for being smart, but she’s sweet too. She talks like she’s rude, but I think if somebody really needed help, she’d lend a hand.” 

The teacher got on the kids for all of their talking and they quickly quieted themselves. Charlotte looked back at Hensley. All of the kids were looking at the three who had just been scolded, but Charlotte looked at Hensley. And she looked at Charlotte. 

Hensley gave her a half smile and waved her fingers a little, hoping that maybe she’d gotten over the whole completely not knowing her name thing from earlier. Charlotte smiled and waved back, then looked at her hand in confusion, like it had done it on it’s own, without her permission. She turned around in her seat and refocused on class. 

But, that was how Charlotte Page met her future best friend, Hensley Hart.

[kidlightnings]

For Ky and Noe ^^ ONE, EIGHTEEN,TWENTY-TWO and TWENTY-THREE

M!Ky

ONE| Will your OC and their LI ever have kids? If yes, describe their children! Looks, personality, what traits they draw from which parent or whether they would adopt.

Ky and Nadia do not! They do eventually “adopt” (in name, so that he can be afforded titling, inheritance, and other associated privileges, but he’s still certainly his family’s son as well) a child from another branch of the Crestholder family.

Here’s a doodle of Mallory

His appearance does inspire some interesting rumors regarding Nadia and Ky’s old teacher~

Mal is headstrong, clever and curious, and a bit chilly. This is overshadowed, though, by his being quite shy and withdrawn when he first moves into the palace on account of losing everything familiar at once.

EIGHTEEN| What are your apprentice and their LI’s pet names for each other? 

Ky, for Nadia: a very wistful, lovelorn Countess, usually playfully/dramatically, in very intimate moments, sweetheart

Nadia, for Ky: Darling, Dear, and in response to Countess, Magician, said in a like tone

TWENTY-TWO| If your apprentice was in a modern AU, how would they dress? Include images if you’d like!

[ casual ] short-shorts, thigh-highs, v-necks, crop-tops, big jackets/hoodies, slip-ons, high ponytail, slouchy beanies, great big flower hairpins and clips, alligator clips, leggings

[ upscale ] slim-fitting denim, pastel or dark grey buttondowns, rolled sleeves, hair in a bun, dress shoes with a little heel

[ formal ] white or pastel floral three-piece suit, patent leather, high heels, rhinestone embellishments, tasteful embroidery, complicated updo

TWENTY-THREE| Does your apprentice remember anything of their life before their death?

Not a lot! Ky had to stop trying to remember because he actually has some chronic memory issues from how stubborn he was (unconsciously) about trying to remember during those first few years. He really had to get “reset” quite a lot. He likes to look forward now, though, and from what he does remember, he doesn’t really like the person he used to be. That person did have some very fascinating notes, though, and Ky studies them quite a lot!

F!Ky

ONE| Will your OC and their LI ever have kids? If yes, describe their children! Looks, personality, what traits they draw from which parent or whether they would adopt.

Nope! She and Asra try once, but it ends sadly, and they both realize it wasn’t right for them. They also have Mal in their lives, but more as an apprentice, though he comes to love them like family regardless. They also open up the shop to teach and care for many of the children who live on the street. So, they certainly have a family, just a bigger, rowdier, more flexible one.

EIGHTEEN| What are your apprentice and their LI’s pet names for each other?

Ky, for Asra: she really doesn’t have much, will sometimes just make things up on the fly though - pumpkin, cupcake, sweetness, blossom

Asra, for Ky: love/lovely, clever girl, in a light, teasing way, usually when they’re studying together

TWENTY-TWO| If your apprentice was in a modern AU, how would they dress? Include images if you’d like!

[ casual ] hotshorts, thigh-highs, big graphic tees, flannel, scrunchies, slim sneakers, fishnets, hawaiian shirts, wristbands, flipflops, messy updo, joggers

[ formal ] black cocktail dresses and black stockings, white tuxes with black accenting, pinstriping, patent dress shoes, big bun, wavy hair, gold jewelry

TWENTY-THREE| Does your apprentice remember anything of their life before their death?

Some, yes! Ky didn’t try a lot to remember before, but, as she delves back into her magic, she becomes quite curious about who she was before. Asra is happy to explain, but careful, that he doesn’t tint the view she receives too much. They do spend some time reviewing specific possession, notes, anything that can help recall, and Ky takes to it well. Ky has mixed feelings about who she used to be, in that she somewhat envies the power that person used to have, but, she feels uncomfortable with how distant, detached they were. She can feel in herself the ability get to such a mentality again, and doesn’t want to.

Noe

ONE| Will your OC and their LI ever have kids? If yes, describe their children! Looks, personality, what traits they draw from which parent or whether they would adopt.

Nope! Noe is happy to never have any children. He really just likes its being him and his boyfriend/husband/partner, assuming he ever did settle down, that is.

EIGHTEEN| What are your apprentice and their LI’s pet names for each other?

Oh, god. Well. Noe doesn’t have a canon-timeline love interest, but, were I to pick someone for him? He and Lucio would get on like a house on fire. Playful hostility, teasing, and some unexpectedly soft moments.

Noe, for Lucio: brat, royal, treat, baby

Lucio, for Noe: literally nothing would be consistent, ever, just whatever silly things came to mind - spicy snack cake, hot lavender, prickles, sharpteeth - but, in quiet, intimate moments, which would be pretty few and far between? Noe gets really... soft when Lucio calls him pup. He normally really enjoys that icy, tough demeanor? But there’s something really nice about its being acknowledged that, yes, Noe is also baby.

TWENTY-TWO| If your apprentice was in a modern AU, how would they dress? Include images if you’d like!

[ “schlubby” ] (the only way you’re seeing him in this is if you stay the night, and even then...) hoodies, running shorts, band t-shirts, slides (no socks), “messy” (took only fifteen minutes) bun

[ casual ] parka-style jackets, structured streetwear hoodies, ribbed tanks, worn black denim, fingerless gloves, dress shoes, bandanna wristbands, topknot

[ formal ] slim-fitted blazers over gauzy blouses, stiff slacks, caped overcoats, suede wingtips - all black everything - leather woven into his fishtail braid that’s artfully pulled apart, and a look of utter boredom

TWENTY-THREE| Does your apprentice remember anything of their life before their death?

So, what with Noe not dying, it’s a bit moot, but, if he did? Not intentionally. Noe is very much a present-focused person, and would just want to move forwards. Anything he learned about a prior life, he’d feel to be something to, at most, learn from.

[thememoriesofaqueen]

The Things We Do - Part 8

Masterlist (x)

A/N: This chapter deals with Katherine after she departed from Elijah and moved to Australia. I struggled with it, so I really do hope you’ll enjoy it.                English is not my first language      → I do not own anything of the TVD - Universe and I’m not affiliated or                   associated with the writers etc. this is only a headcanon.

Pairing: Kalijah ( Katherine / Elijah )

Setting: post TVD 4x23, no cured Katherine.

TW: -

Word Count: 6.161

___________________________________________________________

In hindsight going to Australia was the best choice she could have make. She has never been to Australia that long before, so she knew that she wouldn't get bored. She was positive that there were a lot of new things to discover, new adventures. Something which was much needed because it was good to have distraction, so she didn’t had to think about something which had happened in the past.

It was smart to get as far as possible away from that dreadful town called Mystic Falls. If she wasn't near it, she wouldn't think about it and she wouldn't feel those passive aggressions she still held. Oh, if she could she would burn that town with its inhabitants to the ground and throw the ashes into the ocean. Like she said, huge aggressions.

In addition, she also wanted to be as far as possible away from him. She didn't wish to see him or hear anything from him or even smell him - even though his aftershave always had a very appealing aroma. She wanted nothing from him. She wanted to forget him. But she had also other reasons to go as far as away from him as possible. She also wanted to make sure he was serious about his promise of leaving her alone once she heard him out. And he was. She didn’t hear anything about or from him, much to her relief. Perhaps it was because she was far away from where he was supposed to be and he didn't want to make the effort. Whatever it was, she was happy he wasn't a part of her life anymore. He had done enough damage.

Even though he had explained himself and she could understand his reasons to a certain level, she was angry with him. She felt betrayed, lied to. He should have known better. If he hadn’t made her feel like garbage, like something unworthy, none of the past would have happened.

But she didn’t want to think about it. It happend in a past life and now she had a new one, a new life in Australia.

It took her a while to get used to the change. She hasn’t really lived in the southern hemisphere, everything was reversed. When it should have been winter, it was summer. Even though winter here was pleasant - it was not as cold than winters in Europe or the US. Yes, she could get used to it.

As already mentioned, she really enjoyed her stay in Australia. Not only because she hasn’t really been there before, but she also slowly changed her way of life. One of the major changes were the fact that she started to wear sneakers instead of high heels because it was more comfortable while doing certain things. Not that she would ever turn into a sneaker-person, she loved her high heels, but sometimes they were a disadvantage and had to be replaced.

She remembered the first time she actually wore sneakers after buying one pair because she wanted to climb the Syndey Harbour Bridge. She had gotten herself a guide book and doing that activity was recommened, that’s why she gave it a try. After all she wanted to make new experiences, right?

To be honest, she kinda regretted it at the beginning. Not because she never felt the need of wanting to climb a bridge before or because she had a fear of hights, it was because she felt uncomfortibale while wearing sneakers. How could anyone want to wear something like that? It wasn’t attractive and she felt short, but eventually she was grateful she hadn’t chosen her high heels to climb the Harbour Bridge. And it was worth it. The view was breathtaking.

Actually, she liked the view that much, that she had decided to do it again, but at a different time, believing the view would be even greater in the evening, when the sun set and one could see all the lights.

That was her first experience with sneakers. She still didn’t like it, but she figured that she could change her style. Be someone new. She had noticed that it was considered fashionable to wear white sneakers, that’s why she designed a new look for her during day time. White sneakers with jeans shorts because she had to show off her legs - she loved to be admired. She also changed the way she wore her hair by wearing more half up half down hairstyles. However, when going out in the evening or at night, she returned to her typical ‘Katherine’-style, wearing high heels and darker make up.

She went out almost every evening. She enjoyed taking drinks at Sydney’s best rooftop bars and she enjoyed going to partys until the sun rose. She was a new person at daylight, but the same at nighttime. She also embraced her vampire-nature during the sunless hours, partying with enough alcohol and blood to keep her satisfied. To be honest, she can be a monster at night - her bites were really nasty and fortunately, she was always sober enought to compel and heal the bitten human. Sometimes she was so hung over that she slept the entire day, but that wasn’t always the case. Drinking until she passed out wasn’t really her style, she rather enjoyed her life.

Trying new things were a part of enjoying life and be someone new. Climbing the Harbour Bridge was just the beginning. She also tried floating above Camden Valley in a hot air ballon. It was the first time she has ever been in a hot air ballon. She has always been sceptical about hot air ballons, because you can’t control it. The wind can blow you everywhere and she didn’t enjoy the thought of landing in a lake or worse, the sea. The experience started at 4am and she had to drive a few miles until she got to the location. Fortunately, she doesn’t mind to stand up early, in fact she has always been an early-person.

And again, the experience was worth it, even though it was cold and she was freezing. It was beautiful to flight across the country and see the Sydney city skyline in the horizon as the sun slowly rose. She wondered why she hasn’t tried something like that before. 500 years of living and 230+ years since it was possible to travel in a hot air ballon and she never tried it. She guess she just hadn’t had the time to try. She admits, she never considered trying it as well.

Of course not every day was as adventourous as the days where she climbed bridges or decided to travel with a hot air ballon. She also enjoyed going through Wendy’s Secret Garden, which was a really nice spot, or go shopping at Strand Arcade. She went whale watching and hiking in the Royal National Park and saw beautiful waterfalls and had a delicious human snack while doing a break. She also rediscovered the joy of horseback riding. It’s been a while since she last did something like that but when she came across Centennial Parkslands, where it was possible to borrow a horse, she suddenly remembered that she used to love to go horseback riding. She even owned a few horses in her lifetime but since cars became a thing and she prefered to live in big citys, horses became nothing but a distant memory.

It’s funny how a new place can give you new memories, but can also help to gain back forgotten ones. On that day in Centennial Parksland she wondered how many more hidden memorys she may have, which she forgot about. She might even say, she was feeling a little bit sentimental on this day.

However, that odd feeling didn’t last long because she threw herself into new adventures.

▬

She has never been a water-person. She hated it if it rained and her hair got wet. Although she lived in several beach houses before, whether they were located at the beaches in Europe or the US, whether it was the mediterean sea, the Atlantic or the Pacific, she never really took advantage of it. Sure, she enjoyed the sight, enjoyed the sunrises or sunsets. But she never really went into the water.

To be honest, she prefered pools over the sea. Simply because she had more control when being in a pool. The ocean or the sea, however, were wild and untamed - she didn’t like the waves which could always splash over her head and therefore making her hair wet. She also didn’t like the thought that if anything happens to her while being in the sea, no one would be able to find her. There were rumors that some vampires were sunk into the sea, making them suffer for eternity. A vampire can also not use their speed while being in water, which was a disadvantage especially for someone like her, a person who’s always prepared to flee. As seen, she had good reasons to avoid it.

Ever since her arrival, she took a walk at the seafront every evening. Firstly she did it because she was hungry and wanted to look for a fitting snack. Later on she noticed that Sydney has really beautiful beaches and special places.

She began to enjoy to go swimming. At first she discovered Bondie Iceberg’s Pool, a pool imbedded into the ocean. It was a start, a compromise. She later discovered that Bondie Iceberg’s Pool wasn’t the only protected saltwater pool and when she discovered Bronte Baths, she often liked to take a sunrise swim. She enjoyed the silence, the view. And it was actually good for her skin too, the salt made her skin more soft and glowing.

She took a coastal trek from Manly to Spit and visited beaches which are only reachable on this walk or by boat, therefore they weren’t overcrowded, she also discovered hidden beaches on the Hermitage Foreshore Walk. Nevertheless her favorite spot were still the protected saltwater pools.

As mentioned before, she hadn’t really been a water person. But the longer she stayed in Sydney, the more she took an interest in trying water activities too. She tried to do stand-up paddelboarding at Palm Beach, but after mastering it, it was too boring. How could people do this for hours? She needed more action, that’s why she decided after a while to try learning how to surf.

She was sceptic at first, because surfing was everything she disliked. Being in the ocean with waves big enough to knock her over and the 99% chance of getting her hair wet. But she was curious. And she wanted to start something new. Why not try surfing? She still remembers the talk she had with one of the surfers she had met on the beach, remembers how sceptical she was.

………………………………………………………………………………………

“So you actually take enjoyment of getting wet and all salty if you’re thrown in the water by some giant wave?” she asked while not really buying it. How is that supposed to be fun?

“It’s more about learning and knowing what you’re able to do. You can’t control the force of nature and waves are a big force of nature which can also be pretty painful. But there’s no better feeling than successfully riding a wave.”

Katherine raised an eyebrow. “I’m still not buying it”

“Someone once said that waves are not measured in feet and inches, they are measured in increments of fear. You should never stop fearing the ocean, because when you’re in or on a wave you can’t stop it. You can’t bail out. It’s a challenge between you and the ocean. You can either win or lose, even though I wouldn’t recommend losing.”

He sounded so enthusiastic and somehow the thought of surfing became more tempting.

“Just theoretical… do you think someone like me could master a challenge with the ocean?” she asked, because perhaps she should give it a chance. After all she wanted a new start, a new life. One will always have a new start if one actually start with something new, even it was something unconventional such as surfing.

“Sure. But you shouldn’t get your hopes up, you need a proper training. And you should prepare to fall in the water a lot. But you don’t strike me as someone who gives up easily”

“And why would you know that?”

“There’s passion in your eyes. That’s why I know that. Many people who try to learn surfing or anything else don’t want to learn it because they want, they do it because they have nothing better to do.”

………………………………………………………………………………………

Let’s say it was a hard way to success. But she was ambitious. No way Katherine Pierce is not able to learn surfing. That’s impossible. And even though she fell into the water a lot, literally a lot, she never gave up. She took all her attention into learning how to surf that she had forgotten everything else. And she liked it!

After several training sessions, after several tries and being thrown into the water, she finally managed to ride a wave, a real, big wave. She was feeling euphoric, really fanastic. At that moment she felt like she could do everything - she defeated a force of nature and that’s powerful.

During her training she also took a liking into her surf-teacher. His name was Henry and even though she prefered dark haired males, he was attractiv. She often flirted with him, seeing it as some sort of game. To her it was nothing more. Just amusment. Eventually, Henry also turned into her personal blood bag. She favored it if she had a personal blood bag, it made feeding more interesting. It was also easier than finding someone new each time when she felt hungry because she is very demanding when it comes to a neck.

Eventually, however, she got bored and dumped Henry and the idea of surfing. She got bored of Sydney after two years and decided to go travelling around Australia.

▬

She saw the Field of Light Uluru installation at Ayers Rock Resort, she explored the Great Barrier Reef - something she wanted to do for quite a time as it was one of the seven wonders of the world. It was also time to visit it, because it's very possibly that it'll disappear in the future. She also swam with whale sharks and dolphins at Ningaloo Reef, she has seen Uluru, which is a UNESCO World Heritage and Kangaroo Island.

She stayed in Melbourne for a few months and visited the Twelve Apostles on The Great Ocean Road before returning back to Sydney after one year of travelling.

▬

Even though she has enjoyed travelling, something has changed. Despite making many new experiences, despite being able to enjoy herself in the past years, something felt wrong. She felt wrong. It was like she woke up from yet another dream, another facade.

She noticed the change when she woke up in her new modern appartment with floor-to-ceiling windows and was wondering what she was going to wear. Her wardrobe has changed the past three years, she prefered to wear more casual clothing and practical, yet stylish footwear during daytime. However, eventually she wasn’t in the mood to look like an average teenager anymore. She went back on wearing lacy tops and high heels. She went also back on wearing lipstick and eyeliner not only when going out in the night, but also when doing daily business.

She didn't go swimming anymore, instead she preferred to just sunbathe and sipping cocktails at a beach bar.

She knew there was a reason why she felt changed, why she wasn’t able to enjoy the things she used to like in the past three years. She knew there was a reason why she felt like she wasn’t herself anymore. Yes, she had enjoyed the past years, she had discovered new sides. But it hadn’t been truly her. She had invented herself completely new but suppressed some of the parts of her own personality, because she wanted to forget about the things which had hurt her.

………………………………………………………………………………………

`·.¸¸.·´´¯`··._.·  After returning to Syndey `·.¸¸.·´´¯`··._.·

“Where should I leave your luggage, Miss?”

Katherine turned around and looked at the concierge who had kindly offered her help with her luggage. This wasn’t a hotel, so she hadn’t the oppurtunity to ask the staff.

“Just put it over here.” she said and pointed at a place where it wouldn’t bother her. To be honest, she didn’t really like to unpack all of her luggage. It took too long and she often just prefered to buy something new instead of wearing anything ‘old’.

“Hey, can you help me with unpacking?” she asked and took a step closer. If there wasn’t any staff to do it, perhaps he could be of service.

“I’m sorry, Miss, but I’ll have to return back to my workplace.”

Katherine sighed, why must humans always be so complicated?

“It would be really kind of you to help me unpacking. I’m sure you have time to put everything in my closets, yes?” she compelled the concierge and grinned when he nodded. She quickly explained him where she wanted everything to be. “Wonderful. I’m taking a shower.”

She enjoyed long showers, that’s why she didn’t feel the need to rush. She just came back to Sydney after travelling for a year, but she was positive she didn’t need long to adapt into having a somehow fixed address again.

When being finished with showering, she tucked her body into a nice, fluffy towel and went back to the bedroom where she wanted to pick up her clothes. To her surprise, the concierge was still there.

“May I ask what you’re doing here? It shouldn’t be so difficult to put my clothes into the closets.” she snapped.

“I’m sorry Miss, but I’ve found something in one of your suitcases and I wasn’t sure were to put it.” he showed her a white, slightly creased envelope.

“Where have you found that? I don’t remember to have packed something like that.” she asked, suddenly suspectious. She has been always very careful with everything. Even if it was just something like an envelope.

“It was in your suitcase lid, actually behind the suitcase lid. It must have slipped underneath the material.” he explained and handed her his find.

“Okay, thank you. Now leave and forget you’ve helped me.” she compelled the man and put the envelope on her nightstand before preparing to go out.

She kinda forgot about the envelope during the day. She only remembered it again, when she wanted to go to bed and saw it laying on her nightstand. She was still very suspectious on what it was as she couldn’t remember packing it. Perhaps the concierge was compelled by someone else to give her this. Perhaps it was a threat, a warning. She didn’t know why, but somehow she felt like she won’t like what was in the envelope. She was certain it wasn’t a leaflet.

She pursed her lips and was already ready to throw it unopened in the trash can, but decided different as curiosity took a hold of her. Perhaps she bought tickets for a show and forgot about it? Even though that was very unlikely since she wouldn’t forget about tickets she had purchased for a certain date.

Katherine sighed and stared at the white paper, before she decided to open it. How worse could it be?

To be honest, she expected everything. A threatening letter, a warning, an advertising brochure, tickets for a show, perhaps it was even empty. But she didn’t expected the true content.

She was surprised and shocked when she opened the envelope and emptied the content over the kitchen table. It was a series of pictures of her and Elijah Mikaelson.

She took them and shook her head. That shouldn’t be possible. She was positive she burned or threw everything away which had something to do with him. A little bit dramatic, she knew, but she was feeling wrathful back then. Even though she can’t remember seeing these pictures again after they moved away from NYC. One picture was missing, she remembered she gifted it to him in order for him to remember the moment.

While looking at them, she remembered that night.

………………………………………………………………………………………

`·.¸¸.·´´¯`··._.· Flashback - Four and a half years ago `·.¸¸.·´´¯`··._.·

“Katerina, are you really sure you want to do this? If you want pictures of us, we can consult a professional photographer.”

She rolled her eyes and kept dragging him towards the photo booth.

“Come one, be a little spontenious. We had a great night out, we look dashing and I really want something to look at in a few weeks or perhaps months. Something to remember.”

He sighed and she knew she had to use that moment of hesistation in order to get what she wants.

“I’m not going to beg, Elijah, but it would make me very happy. You want me to be happy, right?” she asked and looked at him with big brown eyes. She was a little bit drunk, but that didn’t prevent her from trying to convince him. And luckily, he finally gave in.

“Anything to make you happy” he replied and smiled when he noticed how happy she was. In fact, she was beaming and instantly glide into the photo booth. It was very small and there was barely room for two.

“Thank you, Elijah”, she was still beaming at him as a result of being squiffy and happy.

“You’re welcome” he leaned in and gave her a kiss when the box took the first picture.

“You know, we should do something crazy”, and before he could protest, she had already placed herself on his lap, her arms tightly around his neck and passionately kissing him. He returned the kiss, much to her pleasure. However, she pulled away. She didn’t forget she wanted pictures of them and those shouldn’t only show them kissing. She glid off his lap and sat back next to him. However, she couldn’t help herself but starting to nip on his neck with her fangs exposed.

“Katerina!” he laughed while burrying his hand in her curls.

“Don’t worry, I won’t bite you” she mumbled against his skin, knowing that he wouldn’t allow her to bite him. He never did and she accepted it. But she enjoyed the thought of it. She placed a kiss on his neck and pulled away, her vampire features gone.

They shared another deep kiss before they got out of the photo booth. The pictures which were taken of them were beautiful. She loved them because they looked happy. Even Elijah let his guard down and seemed genuely happy and relaxed.

She teared the first picture of the series off and handed it to him.

“That one is for you, so you’ll aways remember that it can be fun if you try something new.”

………………………………………………………………………………………

She frowned when she looked at the pictures. She remembered that she kept her part and clued it to her mirror. However, when she had to move from NYC to a smaller town in Virginia, she had taken them off and put them in her suitcase. She must have overlooked them when she unpacked the suitcase as she never really put anything in the suitcase lid. Over the time the envelope probably moved until it slit underneath the material and that’s why she hadn’t found it until today.

Her fingertips carefully caressed the pictures. She used to be so happy. The pictures reminded her of that. She had always felt safe when she was with him, not only because he was an Original, but because he knew her well enough. He always believed -perhaps hoped- that there was more about her than just being the selfish, manipulative person known as Katherine Pierce. He didn’t let anyone tell him otherwise. Nevertheless he didn’t push her into anything. He had accepted her as she was, the good sides and the preponderant bad ones.

She put the pictures back in the envelope and bit down on her lip. She hasn’t thought about Elijah ever since she moved to Australia. Of course she had feared he might try to find her, but she had tried her best to distract herself and she was succesful in doing so.

Over the passage of the past three years she had forgotten about him. There was no room for Elijah Mikaelson. But now, after having seen those pictures, she felt an ache in her heart like she missed something - or someone. 

Truth be told, after she had put the envelope into a book and therefore out of her sight, she had felt better. That feeling of having lost something important faded away. Nevertheless that evening was the beginning of her change back to Katherine Pierce as she used to be, even though it was a slow process.

……………………………………………………………………………………… ▬

Three years and five months after moving to Sydney, she had started to actually visit the Sydney Opera House. Despite having spent a lot of her time in Syndey before her travel around Australia, she has never been in the Opera House. She visited theatres and listened to classic music. She like to wear gowns and the only time someone could actually wore an evening gown was when going to the Opera House where everyone was dressed really fancy.

Eventually, she met someone named Dave. He also liked to visit the Sydney Opera House. They’ve met from time to time until they started an affair. Dave became her new personal blood bag and she really enjoyed feeding from him. He was one of the few men she actually had an affair with in the past three years. Sure, she had feed from many, but there were just a selected few humans she had choosen for sexual activitiys - even though it never got any deeper than having fun.

The affair with Dave lasted four months and ended in a divasting relevation. She wasn’t aware of the similarity. She liked that he was so cultivated, she liked that he was always properly dressed. They had a smiliar taste in food and drink, he liked to go dancing and they both enjoyed going out. He run a small business, so they often met between meetings in order for her to take a sip of his blood. Ever since she finished her travel around Australia and came back to Sydney, she felt extremly hungry. Like she hadn’t feed properly, even though she has. There was a feeling of dissatisfaction after she had bitten someone and she wasn’t able to fill that hole with blood.

Ever since she met Dave, the urge to feed got worse. She always had to be very careful when she bit him, because sometimes she felt like she couldn’t stop. She didn’t know why, but his blood made her feel so good, so euphoric.

That evening they were drinking wine while soft music was playing in the background. They were in his loft and eventually she had asked him if he wanted to dance, even though it wasn’t really about dancing. She was hungry and bit him after he got up, carefully drinking from his vein. When she finally pulled away, she didn’t see Dave but Elijah.

Being shocked, she stumbled a few steps back while looking at the human. It was so obvious and she hadn’t noticed it. Dark hair, good taste, almost always wearing a suit - he was a spitting image of Elijah.

She managed to compel him to forget everything, including ever meeting her before she left, no, fled from his loft.

Usually, she was able to control her feelings. She didn’t let any feelings come in the way. But on that night, feelings overwhelmed her. She was angry, mad and sad at the same time. She went on a rampage and almost destroyed half of her appartment because on that night she realized that she still missed him. How dare he having such a power over her?

She always knew that she’ll forgive him eventually. Forgiveness can be earned. However, she was almost certain that she can’t love him or even miss him ever again. He had caused too much damage, too much pain. And yet here she was, having an affair with someone who looked like Elijah. She knew she didn’t choose Dave because he was Dave, she was sure that her subconsciousness had been aware of the resemblance. She has just been too ignorant to notice sooner and that made her so damn angry.

She tried to forget him, she tried to hate him. But the more she tried to push the memories and thoughts of Elijah away, the more she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Katherine wasn’t delusional. She knew that the posibility of them having a happy ending were pretty low. She knew when push comes to shove, he won’t chose her but his family. He wasn’t good for her. However, he was everything she wanted to find in a man. He was loyal (if she ignored his daffy devotion to Klaus), he had manners, he was a man and not a boy, he had experience, was strong and used to make her feel safe. But most importantly, he knew exactly who she was. He didn’t tried to change her, even though he hoped she would return to her former self one day. He had accepted her and returned her feelings. Well, before he had let her down.

`·.¸¸.·´´¯`··._.·  Present `·.¸¸.·´´¯`··._.·

She had continued to push the thought of Elijah away. She did it the last six months after departing from Dave. She did it because she didn’t want him. Because he wasn’t worth her time, her feelings or anything else. But the more she had pushed everything regarding to him away, the more she seemed to grafitate towards him. It was like a curse. He was a curse.

It was nothing new that the emotions of a vampire are heightened, but dealing with those extrem feelings, which got stronger and stronger each day, drained her. She just couldn’t manage to ignore his existence. Even if she tried to do it, she unconsciously did the things she knew he had enjoyed: Sipping his favorite brand of whiskey or listening to a certain piano piece - the piece he liked to play for her while she listened and drank a glass of wine, admiring his talent. When she saw someone whose tie wasn’t knotted perfectly she remembered the times where they were entangled in a hot passionate kiss, only for her to fix his shirt collar and tie after pulling away from him.

She knew she can’t fight it any longer, she knew she wanted him back in her life. She longed to hear his voice saying her name. Not Katherine, but Katerina. She wanted to look into his beautiful brown eyes which held so much love for her. She wanted him to wrap his arms around her and pull her close. She wanted to make him uncomfortable when she wanted to do something which he considered as ‘improper’, knowing that he probably would grow to enjoy it. She wanted to hear him play the piano or asking her out for a date. Gosh, she wanted him in her life so badly.

However, it was so hard to call him. There was still a part within her which wanted to fight the possiblity of getting Elijah back. A part of her which knew just because she wanted him back, that he couldn’t be trusted. A part of her which still despises him for what he has done. But there was also the other part who missed him, perhaps even loved him. He left a void in her, a void she couldn’t fill with affairs and blood and alcohol. No matter how much she drank, how much fun she had. At the end, it wasn’t enough. It may have taken some time to finally realize that fact, but it’s the bitter truth. Nevertheless, she continued to fight with herself until she finally wanted to give it a try.

Years ago, he had given her a piece of paper with his phone number. Back then she was too pissed at him to want to store his number into her cell phone. Despite not wanting to call him back then, she placed his number somewhere safe, somewhere where she could easily find it again.

Katherine sighed and got up from her place at her luxury balcony from where she had the perfect view over the ocean. She went inside her apartment and grabbed one of her expensive handbags before pulling out a little box.

It was a special box, because it was sealed by a spell so only she could open it. it contained important and expensive things, things which shouldn’t land in the false hands such as her passport, ID-card, her favorite jewelry, credit cards - and a folded piece of paper.

She took the paper and closed the box, carefully putting it away. She unfolded the paper and looked at his elegant handwriting. There it was, the number she had to call if she wanted to hear his voice, if she wanted to tell him that she had forgiven him. She grabbed her phone and began to tip in the first few numberals.

However, she hesistated. What if he had forgotten about her? After all, his mind usually just circles around his family. What if he had found someone new? It’s almost impossible as Elijah seemed to fall rarely in love, but what if he has? She didn’t want to make a sap out of herself.

The thought of another woman in his life made her jealous. She imagined how another woman got his full attention, how he kissed her like he had used to kiss her. She imagined him making love to someone else.

A growl escaped her lips and the grip around her phone tightened. As if it was not only worse enough to admit she missed him, she even was jealous about some probably non existent woman. “You are Katherine Pierce. Don’t make a fool out of yourself.” she mumbled to herself, before putting her phone and the piece of paper away and going in the kitchen to open herself a bottle of wine.

Unfortunately, one and later two glasses of wine didn’t help to ease her mind. Elijah Mikaelson was still on her mind like a ghost in a haunted castle. Unable to hunt him away. Unable to ignore him. She eyed her phone from her position in the kitchen and pressed her lips together. It was so tempting but at the same time not workable. Did he really deserve her forgiveness? No. No, he should suffer if he actually even still thinks about her. He had already forgotten about her once.

She didn’t call him in the next three days either. She was about to call or message him a few times, but she always talked herself out of it in the last moment. Elijah drove her crazy - even though he didn’t exactly do anything. 

On the fourth day, however, she decided to finally do it. She is Katherine Pierce and she may run from a lot of things, but she won’t run from this. It was pathetic and a Katherine Pierce won’t be pathetic. Even if he has forgotten about her, even if he had found someone new, she won’t be stopped from doing what she wants to do. Even if it's only to let him know she forgave him in order to ease her mind.

At first, she wanted to call him. However, she put that thought away. Calling wouldn’t be the best and safest option. Elijah was probably still in New Orleans and therefore with Klaus, she didn’t want to take the risk of letting anyone overhear their conversation. Besides, she wasn’t sure if his number was still the same, so she went for something unspecific, something which only he could know.

‘It took some time but I’m ready now. Meet me in in three weeks at 8pm at the place you’ve shown me and where the past and present have collided.’

She re-read her text before she pressed send. She was aware that she was very vague, but she knows that Elijah will know who had sent this. She would have preferred to meet him sooner, but she had to move back to the US and he was always terrible busy with family-things and probably has to find an excuse to sneak away.

After having messaged him, she felt relieved. Almost happy and excited. With a little smile on her lips, she put her phone back into her bag and went out on her balcony to watch the beautiful sunset.

___________________________________________________________

A/N: This was chapter 8! I hope you’ve enjoyed it. Katherine deals very differently with feelings than Elijah. She’s the type who won’t let feelings eat her and instead does things which are fun & good for her. She’s also deals with feelings more physically while Elijah mentally tortures himself. Next chapter contains the Kalijah-reunion. If Katherine and Elijah show up at said place. ;) If you like it, hit the ♥ - or come into my askbox, i’d love to hear your opinion. Please do not hate on my decisions or characters as this is no anti- or hate-blog. However, you can leave constructive criticism. :)

[nowhereiswhereibelong]

73 Questions

I mas tagged by: @mrs-machinegun-norris about two centuries ago sorry

On a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now?

• 5

Describe yourself in a hashtag?

• #sadbicht

• Cause I'm a bad bicht you can't kill me, only I do that

If you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be?

• Aaron Taylor-Johnson

• Colson Backer

If your life was a musical, what would the marquee say?

• The crazy bisexual is on the loose

What’s one thing people don’t know about you?

• That I cant handle silence

What’s your wake up ritual?

• All my cats and family yells at me till I roll of take my meds and stare at the wall till I'm late

What’s your go to bed ritual?

• Make sure I cleaned the litter box and that my cats have food and water then is up to bed and reading anything and everything till I fall a sleep

What’s your favourite time of day?

• Night time (I get the zoomies), or when I'm home alone

Your go to for having a good laugh?

• I really like comedy and some that make me laugh even when I watched 1000 times: John Mulaney, Daniel Sloss, Russel Howard and Sarah Millican

Dream country to visit?

• As many as I can! I have an extensive list

What’s the biggest surprise you’ve had?

• Last semester 3 professors at university were really supportive and understanding and I didnt expect them to be so kind or belive in me that much.

Heels or flats/sneakers?

• Sneakers everywhere all the time for any given reason

Vintage or new?

• Vintage bits and pisses of different eras but late 80s early 90s give me live

• And I'm obsessed with 70s buildings dont know why

Who do you want to write your obituary?

• An creative stranger - go nuts dude freak people out

Style icon?

• dont have one I guess

What are three things you can’t live without?

• My cats

• My phone

• My guitar

What’s one ingredient you put in everything?

• I'm crazy about mustard

• My dad always says anything salivary can be better with cheese and anything sweet be better with chocolate - not that far from the truth

What 3 people living or dead would you like to make dinner for?

• Elvis Presley

• Jane Fonda

• Janis Joplin

What’s your biggest fear in life?

• Failure

• The dark

Window or aisle seat?

• Window: you can look at the view, it's better for sleeping and during the day sunlight for reading

What’s your current TV obsession?

• A have many, it's a problem, but right now mind hunter

Favourite app?

• Instagram and tumblr

Secret talent?

• I like to lie to myself and say acting but maybe just weirdly good at pretending to be good at things (ain't that the joke huh)

Most adventurous thing you’ve done in your life?

• I would say it was dumb, stupid and streamly dangerous but when I was 16 a friend and I went to some guys house in a very weird neighborhood and lied to our parents about it and only 1 other friend new (also our taxi couldn't find the house). We meet those two guys at a friends party and they said that they were throwing one and that we should go, and our dumb selfdestruting alcohol hunting minds though, why not. It was not a party. It was just a hang out with us and one other guy and to this day I dont know how we left at 7am (the only way to get out of there was the first bus because uber wasn't a thing yet and me and my friend were to scared of what kind taxi driver we would find) unharmed and not sexually harassed, given that one of the dudes that our friends new more hated me for a few months for not putting out for him, cause you know, men.

• I'm absolutely sure they wanted a sex party that didnt happen. But I did show my unasked skills of knowing every single black veil brides lyrics.

How would you define yourself in three words?

• Anxious

• Laud

• Loyal

Favourite piece of clothing you own?

• The stolen 80s tshirts from my dad

• High waisted shorts

Must have clothing item everyone should have?

• A comfortable pair of jean shorts that you feel pretty in

Superpower you would want?

• To stop time

• I get to anxious trying to time manage and it just snowballs from there. And sleeping in without being always late.

What’s inspiring you in life right now?

• Machine Gun Kelly (I stared listening to his stuff a few months ago)

• But always and forever is the passion that moves people

Best piece of advice you’ve received?

• Be/do to other people what you wanted to be done for you

Best advice you’d give your teenage self?

• It's not just on your head it's a real thing, you're lot alone, and it ok to need help.

A book that everyone should read?

• Harry Potter: that even thou I have read multiple times it still is amazing and full of symbolism that people brush through some times.

• Women who run with the wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estés

• My older sister made me start this book and its absolutely live changing and I belive should be obligatory to all women in this world. This book is a live long work by this psychologist and through miths, legends, folk tales and stories she puts together what she calls the wild women archetype and what is the feminine instinct is and how those tales teach us about it and how to have a healthy relationship with her.

What would you like to be remembered for?

• For being kind

How do you define beauty?

• It's an powerfull force within

What do you ~love most~ only love about your body?

• The shape of my eyes

Best way to take a rest/decompress?

• Listening to music and dancing around

Favourite place to view art?

• I dont understand sorry

If your life were a song, what would the title be?

• Static supernova

If you could master one instrument, what would it be?

• Guitar and piano cant choose only one

If you had a tattoo, where would it be?

• My planned ones:

• Orca

• Felix felicis

• Tree

• Mother earth

• Penicillin allergy (I dont trust nobody)

Dolphins or koalas?

• Dolphins

• Did you y'all know that orcas not only aren't whales but belong on the same family as dolphins?

What’s your spirit animal?

• Orca

Best gift you’ve ever received?

• My cats (even thou there are rescues they're my little special gifts from nature)

Best gift you’ve ever given?

• On my best friend wedding my friend and I gave a performance as siluetes (it was private beach and all the light were off and we had the car headlights behind us) I played the song you are in love by taylor swift while she did an beautiful performance on silks the song represented their relationship and how she shared it if us in a very sacred way and the silks was a representation of her herself and how the 3 of us saw in the last few years her transformation from a very broken person to the women she was born to be.

• Yes we were crying the hole time but was the most genuine and beautiful think I ever done so yeah

What’s your favourite board game?

• Dix it, its awesome go play it pls

What’s your favourite colour?

• Petrol blue

Least favourite colour?

• The color of lentil soup my mom makes it looks like a baby have serious digestive problems

Diamonds or pearls?

• Diamonds of the symbolic value of "the pressure that could've break us made us into diamonds insted"

Drugstore makeup or designer?

• Drugstore makeup, the one I know that are real brands hauahauahs

Blow-dry or air-dry?

• Air-dry

Pilates or yoga?

• Pilates even thou I must prefer sports mostly

Coffee or tea?

• My blood is coffee at this point

What’s the weirdest word in the English language?

• Wolrd, because English is not my first language and specially in an American accent the pronunciation of wolrd if simply the worst and is absolutely obnoxious and unsettling.

Dark chocolate or milk chocolate?

• Dark

• But my absolut favored is a 70% cacao white chocolate. It's incredible but I only got to buy it twice :(

Stairs or elevator?

• Stairs, I also love to sit on them

Summer or winter?

• Winter. I only like heat if I'm inside very cold water

You are stuck on an island, you can pick one food to eat forever without getting tired of it, what would you eat?

• If nutrition value doesn't matter, ice cream

A desert you don’t like?

• Orange cake. Bad memories and I vomit every time I try to eat it.

A skill you’re working on mastering?

• Singing and playing the guitar

Best thing to happen to you today?

• I think I made a online friend :D

Best compliment you’ve ever received?

• That I'm kind

Favourite smell?

• Buttering sugar

Hugs or kisses?

• Hugs i Iike to be permanently attached to some people at times

If you made a documentary, what would it be about?

• Domestic violence

• Parenting

Last piece of content you consumed that made you cry?

• Today I was trying to play this song called Ronan and cryed my eyes out like all the other times I tried before It's a song of child cancer in the mother's perspective

Lipstick or lip gloss?

• Lipstick

• I'm a red matte lip stan

Sweet or savoury?

• Sweet

Girl crush?

• Billie Elish

How you know you’re in love?

• The only time I think I've been in love I only realised it because they left and I didnt understand why i was severely hurt by it and changed the way I created all relationships after that. And then it hit me

• So pain and heartache.... yeah that's depressing as shit

Song you can listen to on repeat?

• When the sun goes down - Arctic Monkeys

If you could switch lives with someone for a day who would it be?

• My own self but not a anxious depressed mess just to feel what it's like

What are you most excited about at this time in your life?

• That I dont need to make decisions

[chattonlait]

Pretty Lies

“When you’re walking across the runway, Adrien, just make sure you hold your chin up, and even if you don’t feel confident, make sure you make long, confident strides.”

“Even if I don’t feel confident, mama?”

His mother’s eyes crinkled, “Even if it’s not real, try to make it real to your audience. They only know you, and the clothes you’re wearing. They don’t know your story.”

A.K.A The fic where Adrien has the worst month of his entire life and it spirals wildly out of his control. Modeling is tough work.  Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21142004/chapters/50316563 

“When you’re walking across the runway, Adrien, just make sure you hold your chin up, and even if you don’t feel confident, make sure you make long, confident strides.” “Even if I don’t feel confident, mama?” His mother’s eyes crinkled, “Even if it’s not real, try to make it real to your audience. They only know you, and the clothes you’re wearing. They don’t know your story.” Adrien held his head high, took a deep breath and he walked. One confident stride followed the other. Cameras flashed in his peripheral but he was too blinded by the stage lights to see each and every one. His mind wandered, his throat tightened in an impossible way and he blinked back the tears that he knew would give him the perfect en vogue look when the shots released in a few hours. Nobody would think there was something wrong, they’d point at it and go, “That’s just part of the look.”  Even if it wasn’t, because he made it real to his audience, and they didn’t know his story. He turned at the end of the runway, flashed a smile that made his eyes crinkle, and walked the other way. His heart felt like it would pound out of his chest at any moment. He closed his eyes and when he opened them again he was backstage. His heart stilled and he walked back to his dressing room, letting the bright lights drown out his feelings.

It had been so long since his mother’s advice rang in his ears. When he first started modeling, he repeated it like a mantra, day after day, shoot after shoot. Sometimes he’d think about it during fencing lessons, and Chinese classes. If he held his head high, and made long confident strides, then he could do everything. The world didn’t need to know what was going on inside his head. He changed out of the runway clothes, hanging them up on their pristine velvet hanger. “Something’s bothering you, kid,” Plagg’s voice broke the cacophony in his head and Adrien turned, smiled, “I’m fine, just stressed, that’s all,” and he shrugged his shoulders like it was the easiest thing in the world, plucking a blonde hair off the shoulder cuff. It was a truly beautiful garment, hand beaded. There was no doubt that his father was a brilliant designer. Plagg floated over to land on his shoulder, face nestling against Adrien’s cheek. He leaned into it, selfishly, and sighed. It was a long day, and the exhaustion weighed heavily upon his shoulders. After that runway shoot, he had to go over to Luka’s to watch their Kitty Action rehearsal (a song that Adrien wasn’t in, something he would forever be grateful for) He enjoyed his time with his friends, and he got it preapproved by his father. That didn’t help explain the anxiety settling in the pit of his stomach, coiling up like a frightened snake. “Okay Mr. Stressed, care to put pants on?” Adrien snorted out a half laugh, “Yeah, I will. Don’t worry. How else am I supposed to show off the Agreste loungewear line?” He rolled his eyes, opening up the box his father had left him. At least it should be comfortable. And it was, he realized as he popped the sweatshirt on, combing his hair artfully back and out of his face. It was still sticky with styling products, falling in loose waves around his head. He took a makeup wipe to his face in an attempt to rid himself of the thick layer of foundation on his face. It halfway worked, and when he looked up at himself he felt like it was okay. Smeared mascara was a look, right? Oh well, he didn’t have time to take off the rest of it. He managed to jump into joggers, and toe his sneakers back on before he was grabbing his bag and rushing through the door. He didn’t stop jogging until he was out of the building, flipping the hood of the sweatshirt up. Plagg stayed by his side, tucked in the space between his neck and shoulder. “That exciting, hmm?” Adrien laughed, genuinely, “It is, it’s practically a sleepover..” Practically? Who was he kidding? It was a sleepover by all sense of the word, and his father actually approved it. His heart beat heavily, not with dread, but with joy. “Ohhh a sleepover! How exciting, did you remember-” “Your camembert, yes Plagg, I remembered your camembert, but you have to stay hidden. I’m only bringing you along because..” “Because anything can happen, I know, I know. And while you listen to your friends write and perform music, I’ll be making the coziest home out of your bag.” “And you call me weird,” he huffed and shook his head. The houseboat was in sight in it’s massive glory.  The top of it was lit up with beautiful string lights that reflected against the inky water it sat upon, swaying slightly against the waves. Adrien took a second to compose himself, sucking a deep breath in, and exhaling it slowly. It was just a sleepover, it was so simple, but it was with so many of his friends. Marinette, Alya, Juleka, Rose, Ivan, and Luka. Nino wasn’t able to make it but it would be okay. Head high, confident strides. The text message said to just walk in so he did, and he was greeted with well- a lot- They were laughing in the practice room, it smelt like popcorn and oddly like pancakes. Plagg zipped into his bag and grinned up at him. Adrien swallowed and walked in, laughing nervously. “Sorry I’m late, I tried to get here as fast as I could.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, he really did try to get there quickly, he knew he was quite late though. What if he missed the rehearsal? “I didn’t know you wore makeup during your shoots, Adrien,” Alya was the first one to speak and she sat up from the floor. In seconds she invaded his personal space, swiping a thumb under his eye. Oh right, the smeared mascara. “Well, in shoots I uhm- no? No makeup during shoots but this was ah.. runway and those pictures are like uhm, well you know, super candid and stuff so it’s important to wear makeup so that you look alright from all angles, and you know, this is kind of the debut before the winter collection so it’s a bit more macabre,” he was pressing his fingers together, a nervous tic he’d been told to stop multiple times. He couldn’t help it, Alya was just so close and Adrien’s nerves were still shot from his modeling endeavor Juleka’s head cocks out along with Marinette’s, and Adrien felt heat rise in his cheeks. Was it that weird? “I thought you might be finally trying a punk look,” Juleka said with a smile and a little nod, hiding behind her hair again. Marinette giggled, “It would be an interesting look on you,” and she patted the spot next to her, “Both of you need to come sit!” Adrien nodded and shifted his bag, smiling at Alya. She smirked back at him and led him along. Luka smiled at him and patted the spot next to him. Adrien sat down, succesfully, between Luka and Marinette. “If I did a punk look my father would probably keel over,” he didn’t mean for the joke to come out as dark as it did but even Ivan snickered. “Or have a freaking stroke,” Alya added.

“So he’s still controlling?” Luka asked, and Adrien could only shrug. “Just.. overprotective. Looking different can get you into trouble, I guess? Or get you odd looks, and I do represent his brand.” Marinette sighed, “His very posh, fashion forward brand.” “Exactly!” Adrien leaned forward, crossing his legs and bringing his knee up to his chest, “But I do enjoy the modeling, I’m actually doing something new for the winter line.” “Ooh, you have to spill,” Rose spoke up, and laughed, “The winter shows are always the best! The clothes are sooo avant garde.” Adrien couldn’t remember a time he ever talked about himself so much, maybe as Chat Noir, but that didn’t count. He really did love modeling though, it was so easy for him to talk about.

He nodded to Rose’s comment, and then to Marinette and Juleka’s questioning, wide eyes. “The winter show is always more couture,  it’s not about wearable fashion stuff like this,” he fluffs up his sweatshirt, “Which is going to be apart of the new Agreste lounge slash sportswear collection- I digress. The winter shows, it’s where designers from all over the world are assigned a model and they design a fashion piece based off of them. This is going to be the first show that I’m doing just by myself- and on stage in general. I won’t even know which designer I’ll be working with until next week.” “So instead of it being about wearable clothes, it’s basically an art show? Kind of like pop versus Indie?” Luka asked. Adrien nodded, “It’s exactly like that. The Ageste brand is definitely a more commercial brand, but the brand itself hosts smaller designers to come to Paris once a year and show off their art. Every design is made to the model’s body, which means it’s all one of a kind. Whatever I’ll be wearing? It’ll be the only one and that’s.. Exciting.” It was also heart racing. He used to watch his mother walk across those runways, in gowns with multiple tiers, intricate beading, and gorgeous patterns. Gowns that billowed around her and made her look like a floating angel surrounded by twinkling lights. This would be the first year that he walked that stage in her place, there was so much weight to it, emotionally, and publicly. If he screwed up on stage, he wouldn’t hear the end of it from his father. . And he’d disappoint himself, but he would never say that out loud. “That sounds absolutely incredible! So many designers and garments in one place. It must be such a hub of inspiration,” Marinette bounced her fists up and down, “What I’d give to be one of those designers.” Adrien tilted his head, “You could be, one day. They are randomly chosen, and it’s annual. As long as you keep applying, you could totally get in!” “You think so?” “Marinette, I’ve seen your designs, I know so.” Alya elbowed Marinette and Marinette squawked. Everyone laughed and Luka stood back up, Ivan followed. “We’ll all be ready for that winter collection, but in the meantime, why don’t we get some practice done. It’ll help us brainstorm in this creative hour of night. Rose bounced up, “I’ve been working on new lyrics!! Here,” she dug around her bag and handed everyone a piece of printed paper. Adrien shifted to scoot closer to the couch, sitting with his back against the seat, giving the rest of them room to perform with their instruments. He couldn’t focus on the words on the page, and peaked up over the top of it to look at Marinette. She was probably gathering inspiration for the new costume designs for the song. She took out her sketchbook and everything. Adrien leaned in a little closer, watching her pencil move across the page but not really seeing what she was drawing. He wasn’t close enough to tell what exactly it was. A bodysuit, maybe? A pantsuit? Who knew, certainly not him. He got lost in her movement before realizing that the rehearsal was starting. It was like coming back up from being underwater, and he realized he must have spaced out at some point. Marinette’s eyes were focused on the band Adrien looked there too, at Ivan on the drums, Rose singing, Luka on guitar, and Juleka on bass. The song hit him then, resonating a deep chord somewhere in his heart and his throat tightened up again. He should have read the lyrics, it would have made him feel less stupid but in that moment his brain caught up with his body when Rose sang. “Maybe we’re just friends, but I want more.” Adrien hit his fist into the flat palm of his hand, “It’s a love song.” Rose giggled into the mic and for the second time that night, Adrien felt his face going hot. “Sorry, I promise I read the lyrics it just.. It didn’t hit me until now, hearing it out loud.” Marinette had her hand over her mouth and Alya nudged him, “I’m glad you caught onto the meaning behind the words.” “I never did claim to be a great poet, or understanding poetry,” he scratched behind his ear and laughed with them, “Still, I think it’s great. It’s a refreshing take on a love song it’s so.. In your face!” Rose smiled, her cheeks turning pink, “I’m glad that you caught it! If you caught it, then our audience certainly will!” Everyone nodded, and Adrien settled back against the couch, glad that his spotlight moment had finally ended. He still felt how his cheeks burned and he kept his face clasped in his hands to hide himself. One day he’d actually read the things that were handed to him, and read them well, so that he wouldn’t embarrass himself like that again. They resumed rehearsal and Adrien put his head down on his knee. He was tired, beyond tired, and it was finally catching up to him. All he wanted to do was lay down but he was enjoying his time with his friends. They were all so.. Lively, and happy. It was an energy he wasn’t used to, but he appreciated to a level he would never be able to describe in words. He felt safe in the presence of his friends, undoubtedly safe. The beat of the song throbbed in his ears as he nodded off, cheek falling flush against the couch cushion

[jj-ktae]

Millennials - Part 4 -

Title: Millennials Genre: Fluff, romance Pairing: Kim Yugyeom x You Summary: Life is made of stages and each of them is a hard push on the back, forcing you to forge ahead. You’re facing your biggest crisis, and then there’s him, who lives from day to day. Of course he does, he is just a kid. Words: 4749 Warning: Small age difference. Yugyeom x Noona Reader.

Check my masterlist for previous chapters!

Part IV

You don’t know how to deal with yourself. Most of the time, you know how to handle sticky situations, stress, or even yelling customers. So far you did great, dodging the bullets sent your way with little to no difficulty.


But that dress is too tight for a simple drink downtown.

“What, you don’t like it?” Naya enters your living-room with more clothes and toss them on the couch. “I think it suits you.”

You puff, hair flying away from your frustrated face. You’re not sure you can walk around wearing that. “Aren’t we overdoing it? It’s just-”

“It’s a date. You’re supposed to make yourself pretty for a date.” Your friend’s voice makes you groan louder, hands on your hips in front of the mirror.

It’s odd to consider this whole thing a date. Naya can’t stop nagging you about how pretty you have to be and how you should be kind and receptive to Yugyeom. She already teased the shit out of you for accepting, now she is going on and on about how you should apply makeup or how short your dress has to be.

You don’t want to wear makeup and you certainly don’t want to wear a tight dress.

She doesn’t seem to get the whole concept of being natural so you play along, not in the mood to crush her hopes and tell her you won’t be wearing anything too fancy as it doesn’t reflect your personality. She would insist, though, because ‘you can’t go wearing those lame jeans and dirty sneakers. Level up for that kid!’

What the hell does she mean by ‘level up’? Yugyeom is a boy who doesn’t seem to be into fancy and shiny stuff, which shouldn’t even matter because you don’t plan on seducing him. It’s a date for everyone else but you, even though your mind screams at you to just let it go for one evening and enjoy. You sigh loudly, pulling on the fabric to make it longer.

“I don’t think he expects me to be this…glamourous.” You try one last time, checking the clock on your living-room’s wall. “Also, I have to go soon.”

Naya clicks her tongue, finally giving up and aiming for a casual outfit. “This.” She shakes another piece of clothing, this time longer and thicker. “Is that fine with you, boring girl?”

You eye the deep blue clothes, tilting your head. Finally, some normal outfit.

You still don’t know why you agreed. You want to find an explanation to such a weird behaviour but you know there’s nothing more to say.

Against every attempt to lie at your stubborn self, you conclude that you agreed because it didn’t sound like a bad idea. There’s no reason to reject him, after all. You tell yourself that you hate him and everything he represents, but that doesn’t mean you have to crush him and his candid hopes.

Maybe it’s because he gives you attention. Maybe your conflicted feelings come from both his bubbly behaviour which you despise and his caring side which stirs your interest unwillingly.

You can’t deny your behaviour changed.

It makes you go back on full cold mood sometimes, when you notice your own body warming up to his presence. It’s a mere need for validation you think, it’s nothing romantic so you refuse to call this whole thing a date.

The scariest part lies in the fear of him being disappointed by your insignificant existence.

Yugyeom texted you two days ago, asking if you were free tonight. He had a few days off because of important exams and explained they would end today. You accepted, trying your best not to chuckle at how clumsily he writes all his messages.

This morning he sent you a very intimidating “I can’t wait for tonight, noona.” Which turned you muted and resulted in leaving him on read.

Naya’s voice echoes in the room and it feels like a huge bell destroying your eardrum.

“I’m coming!”

--

Yugyeom doesn’t usually panic. He had dates with pretty and funny girls in the past, but never was he so stressed about a mere evening with you.

He hates himself for being so shy around you, his hopeless love crushing every attempt at being somewhat normal. Yugyeom is not normal in front of you and it scares him how easily you would end him with a simple remark. He then does his best to make that date perfect despite his poor competences.

Yugyeom goes for what he thinks is the easy route and asks for advises.

But as he stands in front of his friends, he starts questioning his life choices.

Bambam introduces the situation like he is a dumb guy, a fool who can’t be saved. “Kim Yugyeom, 21, asked his crush out and she said yes. The date is tonight but look at him,” His thin arms shake around him, like he is about to make him disappear. “he won’t make it without us.”

Yugyeom shakes his head, choosing to ignore instead of beating his best friend up. “No one asked you.” He sits the opposite direction so he can face his two other friends.

Maybe Jackson and Jinyoung aren’t any better.

Jinyoung doesn’t know how to stop being a bastard, while Jackson offers way too much to anyone who’s willing to even smile at him.

“Why so anxious? She said yes, right?” Said Jinyoung starts, arms crossed over his chest like he owns the whole building. “Be natural.”

Jackson scoffs, getting up and everyone knows he is going to be noisy from the way his mouth opens. “Let’s prepare you a little bit. Jinyoung, don’t tell him to be natural when your last crush ran out of your store, crying.”

Bambam chuckles, now twirling around the trio while whistling.

Jinyoung hums, unimpressed. “Says the guy who gave all his savings to a girl who told him she needed it for her mother’s hospital bill. Yeah Jackson, let’s all follow your disgusting and stupid gullibility.”

Jackson gasps, pointing an angry finger at his friend while Yugyeom closes his eyes in frustration. “She told me she loved me!”

Bambam stops to snap his fingers at the pair, his body now against the couch where Yugyeom is close to having a very dangerous nervous breakdown. “Why did you ask these two? Even google would provide better advices.” He whispers, shrugging.

Yugyeom groans, getting up. “Forget it. I thought you’d be of any help but I guess I’ll just suck it up and do as I please.

Both Jinyoung and Jackson stop. “No!”

Yugyeom freezes, bewildered.

“Joke aside, stop freaking out. She agreed so don’t worry about messing things up. Talk about yourself but not too much, show interest but not too much, be a gentleman, laugh at her jokes and don’t make the situation awkward. Do you really need us for that?” Jinyoung sighs, lifting a hand toward Bambam who is busy playing on his phone. “You, get me something to drink.”

Bambam snorts, getting up and whispering about bossy friends.

Jackson nods, face now serious. “Do you have condoms?”

Yugyeom turns red with embarrassment. “What? Why? Can we not talk about sex like you’re my parents?” “Safety first! Get prepared for any outcome.” His friend continues, not the least bothered.

Jinyoung slaps his arms, slightly offended and looking nauseous. “I don’t want to know either and I don’t think walking around carrying a pack of condoms helps in conveying honest feelings, Jackson.”

“Fine. Suit yourself.”

Yugyeom lets Jackson pout while Bambam comes back with a freshly made coffee and a straight-out of the dry-cleaning outfit.

“Here. Black for you. Wear that turtleneck, it’ll make you look older than these weird stripped shits you wear. If I were you I’d show my tattoos but well, suit yourself.” Bambam lets the clothes fall on Yugyeom who is torn between being thankful and smack his friend’s head.

He doesn’t know why he asked for help but somehow, he feels relaxed from all the bullshit he just heard. Yugyeom gathers the tiny bits of courage left in him to get prepared at Bambam’s place and is extra careful when he styles his hair, opting for a laid-back style with enough fashion to make it look like he isn’t a boring guy.

He goes out of the bathroom, anxiously looking at his friends. “I’m ready.”

--

You don’t expect Yugyeom to be waiting in front of the brasserie but he is there, hands deep into his long coat’s pockets and leaning against the wall. He doesn’t see you immediately, too concentrated on whatever is happening across the street to notice your approaching form, small and anxious.

“Am I late?” You startle him, body now as straight as an I.

He lifts his arms in a soft protest, head shaking. “No, no. I came early.” He stops then, finally noticing your obvious effort – and you totally blame Naya for this – at makeup. “You look different, noona.”

He inhales, heart fluttering at the sight of you and if he didn’t know better he would have showered you with compliments already.

But somehow, he knows that won’t work with you.

You can only nod, somewhat conscious of your appearance and cursing your best-friend for making you stand out when you only live to blend in. Yugyeom coughs, obviously awkward yet determined to take the best out of this evening and turns around, aiming for the door.

The place is not as busy as you thought it would be. It looks fancy and simple, like these places they show in documentaries about cool kids enjoying night-life the posh way. You look at the paintings and decoration, a mix of renaissance and modern furniture giving off soft Italian vibes. Yugyeom is two steps ahead of you, eyes scanning the area as he stops to talk to one of the waiter.

“Follow me.” The thin guy walks, hands busy with a bottle and glasses, toward a semi-circular table. “I’ll be right back with the menus.” The seat follows the table’s pattern, circling it with deep green padded velvet and sending off intimate vibes wrapped in golden, tiny lights.

Yugyeom pinches his lips, forcing a smile as he leans to speak. “Is this okay for you?”. It looks awfully romantic but even though he loves it and wouldn’t mind snuggling next to you, he knows you can run away at any moment.

Yugyeom doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.

He had planned this out in his head a million times. He knew what to do and not to do, how to behave so you won’t hate him even more, what to talk about so you won’t feel bored. He doesn’t want it all ruined right from the start.

You look up from the table, meeting an expectant Yugyeom who is already taking a step back to let you sit. “It’s fine. I like it here.” It’s true. You do like this table. It’s not in the middle of the restaurant so no one walks by and it’s quiet without it being suffocating – the soft music definitely helps filling the blanks. Yugyeom smiles when you approve and you force yourself not to shiver when his hand falls on your back to lead you to the seat.

It’s still so unusual of him to be taking the lead. It makes you see him differently, almost ten years older than he is and you don’t want to think about how manly he appears to be, now.

But all your resolve evaporates like steam when he takes his jacket off and sits next to you, revealing a tight turtleneck and black pants.

Was he always so built?

Maybe you were wrong from the beginning. Maybe you started seeing him like a kid from the moment he applied for the job at the grocery store. Maybe it comes from your initial hatred. It made you built an image of him which you refuse to take away.

But as he softly stretches his arms and unconsciously offers his chest, firm and defined, all reasoning goes to the garbage. Has he ever worn such fitting clothes before? You’re quite sure he never did, his usual style more of a comfy and layered one rather than a subtle, charming one.

“Are you okay?” He asks when confronted with silence and even his voice sounds deeper to your ears. You look from the busy room to his face and you can only nod at his puzzled face.

You’re not ready for what is about to come.

Therefore, you stay on your guard at the beginning, answering with short sentences and letting Yugyeom order for the both you. He doesn’t force anything on you, even when the two of you stay silent for a while. He knows you won’t become a chatterbox in the blink of an eye, for you can barely handle his presence most of the time. 
Still he tries, opening up about how he has been exhausted for the past month and how this exam period was going to end him. It pushes you to ask more, hence you end up with a lot of information, from why he decided to become a dancer to what he wants to do in the future.

Yugyeom is ecstatic. He answers with glee, eager to tell you more about him yet cautious not to sounds childish. He knows too much about that side of him and wants it to stay hidden, at least for now. He explains everything with care, from how he felt safer dancing, how it helped him deal with bullying, but also the opportunities it offers for the future.

You seriously never thought he had such deep thoughts about his career plan. He cherishes this discipline so much and seems to be so passionate as he explains how free he feels every time the music starts playing.

You can only listen, brain absorbing all his words and it soon becomes a comfortable exchange between you two. You don’t need to talk a lot, for Yugyeom always adds enough words to keep the evening alive. He leads the conversation like he knows that you don’t want to talk about yourself and he is fine with it.

It’s only when you’re done hearing about him that you decide you must share your story.

“My career path is a lot more boring than yours,” You start, fork playing with a piece of marinated artichoke. Yugyeom pours you another glass of Lambrusco but lets you speak. “I just gave up on school to work because I had no dreams for the future.”

Yugyeom hums and as you glance at his face you notice it doesn’t have that look of disappointment most people have when they learn about you.

Instead, he looks as handsome as ever, a smirk displaying on his now peaceful features. “So that’s how you applied for a job at the grocery store?”

You acquiesce, not knowing how to act when confronted with your own insecurities. You’ve never found yourself interesting nor worth spending time with. You understand how that country works and you know you don’t fit in anyone’s image of an ‘accomplished human being’. “It’s not something to be proud of.”

It scares you how you talk too much all of a sudden. You blame your behaviour on the sweet and sugary wine, but you know the truth.

It’s all Yugyeom’s doing. It’s all because of him and his caring face.

He sighs, breaking the peaceful yet dreadful moment. “But are you okay with your current situation?”

You think for a second. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m dissatisfied because it’s not what I want to do or if it’s because it’s not what society wants me to do.” You used to be fine with dropping out of school and not pursue a long and profitable career, but as you keep getting old, you start to wonder if it didn’t make you lose your value.

Nothing made you think otherwise, so far. Nothing and no one made you think like you were fine the way you were.

Yugyeom swallows his food and moves on his seat so he can face you, “You may think I’m a brat for what I’m about to say,” He wipes his mouth with the bright napkin and puts it on the table. “but society and what it wants us to be is bullshit. No one should be forced to do anything because of a bunch of people who think they know what’s best for everyone.”

You blink softly, finding it hard to believe that Yugyeom is actually being deep about such an important matter.

He keeps going. “My father used to tell me dancing isn’t a real job. He told me I would end up old and without any real source of income, that I would be a disgrace to the family and society. I promised him I would succeed and show him as valuable as anyone else I can be. I took a part-time job because I wanted him to see I could manage well on my own. So far he never complained, but I know he isn’t satisfied with what I want to do.” He laughs to himself, quietly. “I’m talking about myself way too much, sorry about that, noona.”

You shake your head, fidgeting on your seat so you can also face him. “It’s fine. I’d rather hear you talk about yourself than talk about me. There’s nothing much to say about me anyways.”

Yugyeom looks surprised, eyes wide under the thick layer of bangs. “It’s not true. I think you’re very interesting.”

You try to focus on his gentle face, your heart slowly clenching at the words. “You don’t have to, but thanks.” Of course he doesn’t want you to feel bad about yourself. He is always so soft and caring, why would he confirm the fact that your existence is nothing but a big failure?

He munches on his last piece of bread, laughing and shaking his head. “I mean it. You are as important as anyone else in that damned country. It’s just that we need validation, right? I used to think the same, but now I don’t care that much. I’m happy with the way I live and no one will take that away from me.”

“But you have a dream, at least.” You utter, not comfortable with the compliments.

He scoffs. “It’s all the same, noona. No one cares about a kid who wants to become a dancer.” He puts the fork down and gulps down the rest of his glass, feeling full. He didn’t except the conversation to be this serious but then again, he is happy with the outcome.

He can feel how you underestimate yourself because he used to feel the same. He hates how low you think of yourself but he isn’t surprised. It explains a lot, now.

“Will you show me how you dance?”

His breath gets caught in his lungs, making him cough. He is already too anxious because your knee is touching his and you want to see him dance? Good lord, he might not survive that. “What?”

He looks so alarmed as you laugh. Why does he have to be so adorable? “You don’t have to agree. I’m just curious, now that you told me how passionate you are.”

“We-well, I guess yo-yo-you can come see m-me.” He finds it hard to spit the words, his heart erratic and body warm with apprehension.

Once you're done drinking, you notice the silence is not as uncomfortable as it used to be.

--

Yugyeom almost fights you so he can pay, insisting it was his idea and you shouldn’t have to pay for anything because he wants to invite you and you give up, laughing at how his broad body takes most of the space, blocking you. You end up thanking him, slightly embarrassed because now it does look like a real date.

As soon as you’re out, he spins around, a tiny smile illuminating his now calm face. “Do you want to go for a walk?” He takes his phone out of his pocket, checking the time. “It’s still early.”

You agree, not finding it in you to reject his offer even though you are freezing and were sick a couple of days ago. He carefully walks, trying not to go too fast for he isn’t used to stroll around and glances next to him from time to time just to check on you.

You follow, eyes looking at your feet. Weirdly, you enjoy the feeling of walking around peacefully, without feeling obliged to speak and be social. Yugyeom lets your mind wander wherever it needs to go and you wonder if he also enjoys the moment.

You walk into a busy street and it’s only then that Yugyeom speaks. He finds the noises comfortable enough for him to finally speak his mind and takes a deep breath. He can do it.

“I really enjoyed that diner with you, noona.” You find him looking everywhere else but at you, but you don’t miss the way his face turns red.

You snuggle into your jacket, agreeing. “I did too, Yugyeom.”

He loves the way his name feels on your lips and he finally looks down at you, ready to fire you with more compliments yet fighting with that tingling feeling at his nape.

He sees you all hidden into your clothes and gasps. “You’re cold? I’m so sorry, ah, and you were sick.” His alarmed face looks around the street as he stops to face you.

“It’s fine, It’s not that cold any-”

“There!” He offers his best smile and grabs your hand before walking toward one of the shop. “Hurry, let’s get you some warmth.”

He grips your hand like his life depends on it and you follow, his long legs giving him a speed you find hard to keep up with.

Yugyeom rushes into the shop, aiming for the clothing section and grabbing a deep purple scarf. “You like the colour?”

Before you can even agree he rushes to the counter, not even letting go of your hand even when he struggles to reach for his wallet in his back pocket.

“Wait, I can pay for-” Any form of protest is useless with Yugyeom, who clicks his tongue and explains it’s his fault you’re in the cold. You’d rather say it’s your fault for not covering yourself, though.

Yugyeom lets go of you when you’re both out of the shop. His hands unfold the scarf and leans to wrap the thick knitted clothing around your neck. He scrunches his nose at how it almost covers your face but seems to be satisfied.

He is dying inside.

You blink, eyes barely able to look at him from behind the scarf. When did you become so obedient around him?

He made you loosen up when you thought you had everything under control. You don’t even mind, wondering when was the last time you got someone caring about you so genuinely. “Are you satisfied now?” It makes you tease him, feeling somewhat overwhelmed. You never thought it would turn out this way when you agreed on meeting Kim Yugyeom.

Maybe you knew. Maybe it’s why you didn’t want to do it initially.

“Very much so.” Yugyeom smiles the brightest smile he has ever showed you, straightening his back and walking again.

He doesn’t reach for your hand a second time.

Instead, he walks closer, still looking at the shops and avoiding people walking by. You both keep on walking, Yugyeom pointing at things from time to time to tell you more about him, which results in him explaining the importance of chocolate milk in his life and how he loves eating the same thing over and over again.

He makes you laugh frequently and always ends up feeling flustered which you find endearing. How can this kid be so cute and manly at the same time?

You end up to the conclusion that this is what makes him so charming. The fact that you always had to deal with his bubbly side made you think that he was only a needy child but you were wrong. He too, can be complex.

It makes it all interesting, from the way he seems to understand your struggles to how calm he can be when needed. You never thought he could be so attentive.

“Do you want to go back home, noona?” he speaks when the wind start getting stronger. “I can walk you home.”

You wonder if you should agree. So far you accepted everything, from the bill to the scarf. Maybe you shouldn’t rely on this kid, it’s dangerous for both of you. “I’ll just take the last bus.”

He seems disappointed, but also worried. It’s like you’re the younger one, the girl in distress who needs a man beside her for safety reasons. “Is it safe? I made you come all the way here…” He doesn’t insist but blames himself, his face now pouty and it’s the only thing you need to give in.

He gets you too easily.

You walk toward a bus stop, checking the time. “I just don’t want to be a burden.” You utter, more to yourself than to him.

Yugyeom’s cheeks go up and he is relieved, now. “You could never be a burden, noona.”

You hum, nodding and taking the seat at the empty bus stop. He stays next to you, hiding his ecstatic face into his coat.

--

Yugyeom looks at your building, fascinated. You don’t live that far from his parent’s house, but the feeling is different. It’s a cool neighbourhood, with brick walls and plants hanging onto the numerous windows. It suits you.

You grab your keys, the noise getting his attention. “Thank you for the food, the scarf and for walking me back here.”

The boy nods eagerly, feeling nervous. Can anyone die of a heart attack at twenty-one? “Don’t thank me, I really had a great time with you, noona. Thank you for coming.”

“I did too.” He looks so pleased with your answer. How? How does this boy find happiness in the most trivial things you do or say? It makes you turn soft, so soft you want to slap yourself.

You stop talking, eyes focused on his disturbingly gorgeous face. You don’t understand why that boy is looking at you like you’re the most important person.

You never imagined someone could feel that way about you.

Yugyeom waits for you to speak, but you say nothing. He chuckles, embarrassed for expecting anything and opting for a goodbye. “Good night, noona.” He bows swiftly, heart clenched.

He must run out of here before he starts doing creepy things. He can already picture Jinyoung smacking him for being too confident. Despite his evident disappointment, he turns around and walks away.

Yugyeom is proud of himself. He didn’t do anything bad – at least nothing that made you kick him and he is pleased with the outcome. He knows nothing about the future and how your relationship will evolve, but he is glad it changed positively.

“Wait!” He turns around before crossing the street, not believing his eyes when he sees you running toward him. “Your legs are so long; you walk way too fast! I couldn’t even say bye.”

You know it’s not true. You only snapped out of your reverie when he walked away.

Yugyeom opens his mouth, ready to tell you that it’s fine, that you don’t have to worry about a mere goodbye but he stops breathing. He literally holds his breath like he is in deep water.

The water being you, wrapped around him, on the tip of your toes.

“Noona, are you okay…?” he whispers, words jerky. Maybe he died of a heart attack a couple of minutes ago and it is what heaven looks like?

You part from him, hands on his shoulders and giggle at how lost he seems to be, before you.

“Next time, I’ll pay.” You breathe, not caring anymore about any type of blush appearing on your face.

Yugyeom makes you do things you never did. It’s as refreshing as it’s scaring you but it’s one of those days, one of those days you want to believe and accept something as bright as his personality.

So naturally you reach for his face and peck his cheek, sweetly.

“Sleep well, Yugyeom.”

--

[imdoingthismspaintadventure]

Worm 2.1 - In which we eat a nice morning breakfast

I woke to the muffled sound of the radio in the bathroom.  Reaching over to my alarm clock, I turned it around.  6:28.  Which made today a weekday like any other.  My alarm was set for six thirty, but I almost never needed it, because my dad was always in the shower at the same time.  Routines defined us.

Soo Taylor’s an organized person it seems. She has a schedule of when do to each thing in the day. That’s nice. I’m more of an “absolute chaos” person myself, but I can respect that.

Also I wonder how it must feel like to do ordinary things again, after the extraodinary events we saw.

As a wave of fatigue swept over me, I wondered if I might be sick.  It took me a few moments of staring up at the ceiling to remember the events of last night.  Small wonder I was tired.  I had gotten home, snuck inside and gone to bed at close to three thirty, just three hours ago.  With all that had happened, I hadn’t slept those full three hours, either.

Yeesh, that must suck! Going to school after barely sleeping at all, and probably hurting all over from all the action last night too! That’s without considering the trio of harpies that await you there...

I forced myself out of bed.  As a slave to my routine, it would be wrong to do otherwise.  I made myself change into sweats and walk down to the kitchen sink to wash my face, fighting to keep awake.  I was sitting at the kitchen table, pulling on my sneakers, when my dad came downstairs in his bathrobe.

Hey, you can talk to eachother and return to normalcy now! Although that could be an awkward conversation in itself, with Taylor having to explain her late arrival.

I wonder if Danny would even bring that up, given his fear of distancing himself from his daughter.

My dad is not what you’d call an attractive man.  Beanpole thin, weak chin, thinning dark hair that was on the cusp of baldness, big eyes and glasses that magnified those eyes further.  As he entered the kitchen, he looked surprised to see me there.  That’s just the way my dad always looked: constantly bewildered.  That, and a little defeated.

I see Taylor has indeed inherited some of her physical characteristics from him!

It’s a little sad to say her refer to her father as “constantly bewildered” and “defeated”. Ouch!

“Good morning, kiddo,” he said, entering the kitchen and leaning down to kiss the crown of my head.

“Hey, dad.”

He was already stepping towards the fridge as I replied.  He looked over his shoulder, “A little glum?”

“Hunh?”

“You sound down,” he said.

I shook my head, “Tired.  I didn’t sleep well.”

Aaaa this conversation! Danny is trying to help his daughter but he doesn’t know how! He’s worried about what she might be doing but doesn’t want to meddle!

There was the slap of bacon hitting the frying pan.  It was sizzling by the time he spoke, “You know, you could go back to bed, sleep in for another hour or so.  You don’t have to go on your run.”

I smiled.  It was equal parts annoying and sweet, that my dad hated me running.  He worried about my safety, and couldn’t turn down a chance to drop hints that I should stop, or be safer, or join a gym.  I wasn’t sure if he’d worry more or less if I told him about my powers.

Every form of escapism that Taylor takes to feel better makes Danny worry and feel worse... And there’s certainly risk involved, especially with the superhero thing, as we saw. But risk aside, it certainly helps Taylor mentally..... It’s a very complicated situation,

“You know I do, dad.  If I don’t go today, it’ll be that much harder to make myself get up and do it tomorrow.”

“You’ve got the, uh…”

“I’ve got the tube of pepper spray in my pocket,” I said.  He bobbed his head in acknowledgement.  It was only moments later that I realized I didn’t have it.  The pepper spray was with my costume, in the coal chute in the basement.  I felt a pang of guilt at realizing I’d lied to my dad.

Is it really a lie when you told it thinking it was the truth?

But I suppose Taylor is feeling guilty in general, about hiding what she’s doing.

“O.J.?” he asked.

“I’ll get it,” I said, heading to the fridge for the orange juice. While I was at the fridge, I also grabbed some applesauce.  As I returned to the table, my dad slapped some french toast on the frying pan to join the bacon.  The room filled with the aroma of the cooking food.  I helped myself to the applesauce.

Mmmmm yum!

“You know Gerry?” my dad asked.

I shrugged.

“You met him once or twice when you’ve visited me at work.  Big guy, burly, Black Irish?”

Shrugging again, I took a bite of french toast.  My dad was part of the Dockworkers Association, as the Union spokesperson and head of hiring.  With the state of the Docks being what they were, that meant my dad was pretty much in charge of telling everyone that there were no jobs to be had, day after day.

Seems like Danny has a somewhat important position inside his job! Or at least a position where he is constantly frustrated about the way things are, but isn’t important enough to do anything about it.

“Rumor’s going around he found work.  Guess with who.”

“Dunno,” I said, around a mouthful of food.

“He’s going to be one of Über and Leet’s henchmen.”

I raised my eyebrows.  Über and Leet were local villains with a video game theme.  They were pretty much as incompetent as villains could be while staying out of jail.  They barely even rated as B-list.

“They going to make him wear a uniform?  Bright primary colors, Tron style?”

My dad chuckled, “Probably.”

“We’re supposed to talk about how the powers thing has influenced our lives in class today.  Maybe I’ll mention that.”

Über and Leet sound like fun nuisances. Like the Team Rocket of Brockton Bay, or the lighter, comedic villains of a kids show.

Also Tron constumes? That sounds both cool and dorky.

We ate in silence for a minute or two.

“I heard you come in late last night,” he said.

I just gave him a small nod and took another bite of french toast, even as my heart rate tripled and my mind searched for excuses.

“Like I said,” I finally opened my mouth, looking down at my plate, “I just couldn’t sleep.  I couldn’t get my thoughts to settle down.  I got out of bed and tried pacing, but it didn’t help, so I stepped outside and walked around the neighborhood.”  I wasn’t totally lying. I’d had nights like that.  Last night just hadn’t been one of them, and I had gone walking around the neighborhood, even if it was in a different way than I’d implied.

He brought it up!

Good for you, Danny, trying to be a stronger parent and kinda facing your own fears. I bet he’s really terrified of hearing that something awful happened or even of worsening their relationship right now.

God, I really like Danny.

What kind of justification is that for the lie, Taylor, where it WAS true some other day, so it’s better than a “total lie”.

Taylor is so Paradoxical.She does a good job of rationalizing her actions so she feels better about them while at the same time blaming herself more than necessary for things that weren’t necesarily her fault (for example, the lie about the pepper spray).

“Christ, Taylor,” my father answered, “This isn’t the kind of area where you can walk around in the middle of the night.”

“I had the pepper spray,” I protested, lamely.  That wasn’t a lie, at least.

“What if you get caught off guard?  What if the guy has a knife, or a gun?” my father asked.

Or pyrokinesis and the ability to grow armor plating and claws?  I felt a little knot of ugliness in the pit of my stomach at my father’s concern for me.  It was all the more intense because it was so justified.  I had almost died last night.

Yeah you DID almost die. And you got saved by villains! Going after a big crime boss all by yourself isn’t good for self-preservation.

“What’s going on, that has you so anxious you can’t sleep?” he questioned me.

“School,” I said, swallowing around a lump in my throat, “Friends, the lack thereof.”

“It’s not better?” he asked, carefully stepping around the elephant in the room, the bullies.

If it was, I wouldn’t be having problems, would I?  I just gave him a one shoulder shrug and forced myself to take another bite of french toast.  My shoulder twinged a little as it made the bruises from last night felt.  As much as I didn’t feel like eating, I knew my stomach would be growling at me before lunch if I didn’t.  That was even without accounting for the energy I burned running, let alone the escapades of last night.

Somehow I feel like that isn’t a lie at all. That you went out as a superhero last night mainly because of everything that happened at school.

Yeah, with how little you slept, you better eat at least. Even if this conversation has soured your apetite.

When my dad realized I didn’t have an answer for him, he resumed eating.  He only had one bite before he put his fork down again with a clink on the plate.

“No more going out in the middle of the night,” he said, “Or I’m putting a bell on the doors.”

He would, too.  I just nodded and promised myself I would be more careful.  When I had come in, I had been so tired and sore that I hadn’t given any thought to the click of the door, the rattle of the lock or the creaks of floorboards that were older than me.

“Okay,” I said, adding, “I’m sorry.”  Even with that, I felt a twinge of guilt.  My apology was sincere in feeling, but I was making it with the knowledge that I would probably do the same thing again.  It felt wrong.

Oh Taylor. That your apology was basically “I’m genuinely sorry about what I did, but I’m going to do it again, repeatedly, and hopefully next time you won’t catch me and we’ll both be happier and I won’t make you worry” is....yeah.

He gave me a smile that seemed almost like an unspoken ‘I’m sorry too’.

I finished off my plate and stood up to put it in the sink and run water over it.

“Going on your run?”

“Yeah,” I said, put my dishes in the beaten up old dishwasher and bent down to give my dad a hug on my way to the door.

Hug you dad, Taylor, he really deserves a hug right now.

“Taylor, have you been smoking?”

I shook my head.

“Your hair is, uh, burnt.  At the ends, there.”

I thought back to the previous night.  Getting hit in the back by one of Lung’s blasts of flame.

Shrugging, I suggested, “Stove, maybe?”

Damn, what is Danny even thinking Taylor did last night. He almost certainly believes his daughter didn’t tell him the whole truth (which is true)

“Be safe,” my dad said, emphasizing each word.  I took that as my cue to go, heading out the side door and breaking into an all out run the moment I was past the chain link gate at the side of the house.

I get the feeling your two lives are going to trainwreck-crash into each other at some point.... This is an unstable situation.

[ninaahelvar]

Chivalry Fell On Its Sword (2/?)

Summary: All Arya wanted so to feel normal and go outside of the damn castle. Now, through a series of unfortunate, she’s stuck with a bodyguard that she accidentally flirted with: Gendry Waters.

AO3

A/N: big shoutout to @doesitsaysassonmyuniform for being my beta even when she had no time. bless as always...micah, @wetbreadofficial....you're my main bitch who basically keeps the plot of this fic running. love ya boo

Arya jumped up onto the brick work, hands scraping at the edge and feet kicking until her sneakers caught on the right part, gripping and giving her leverage. One hard push, and she was able to sit up on the top, sighing as she caught her breath. Peering over the side, she saw that annoying sack of shit waiting there, smiling up at her as he waited. Gendry moved, taking off from the wall to give her a smug grin.

“Fuck you,” Arya sighed, slipping down from the top of the wall, Gendry catching her by the waist so she didn’t have to struggle - just dangling from the edge, like a massive twat. She suspected that he was fully capable of doing that to her. He may have wanted to after the stunt she pulled by running off for the thirtieth time that month.

Once a day, he said one time, like clockwork.

She didn’t know how, but he seemed to have mapped out all her possible exits, even the ones that Brienne knew nothing about, because at the end of each escape route, he stood there waiting.

He seemed to have learnt everything within his first month.

Six months in, he was being too diligent.

“Your highness, you should at least say where you’re going,” he said as she fought against his hands the second she hit the ground. Gendry looked different than normal - she hadn’t seen him that morning, as when he knocked on her bedroom door, she was already climbing out her window. He was wearing casual clothes, a dark flannel over his crisp white t-shirt, and dark jeans to match. He looked like he had when they first met - but she had become accustomed to seeing him in the suit and tie.

“What’s the point in running away when you leave a note?” she pouted. Arya knew she may have sounded like a child, but more than anything, she wanted to get away from him and the castle. What was the point of her twenties if she was stuck at home with no fucking independence.

“You know I could get fired for losing track of you.” They walked along the wall, but their pace was set by Gendry - a slow walk with little destination in mind. He held off on taking them anywhere.

Arya shrugged. “You’ll get moved to another job in the palace, don’t get so worked up.”

“I like my job, m’lady, I’d like to keep it,” Gendry said, slowly putting his hands behind his back, letting them meet as they kept walking.

“Don’t call me that.” Arya wanted to snap, but all she could do was let a sigh fall from her mouth. The same conversation, over and over, but he knew how it got her going.

“Alright, private,” he smirked and Arya rolled her eyes.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Gendry laughed. “If you want to sneak out, you know you can take me with you,” he suggested and Arya scoffed, shaking her head.

“Sorry, but I don’t think you’d like where I’m going,” she squared her shoulders, another thing she had become accustomed to - Gendry’s bold way of handling her. He didn’t treat her like a princess, just a girl with a sour attitude. He caught hold of her wrist and snatch her into his personal space.

“And you think that means I’m allowed to let you go alone?” he said, trying his hardest to stare her down. It didn’t work. But the way his mouth curved....he knew he was going to get his way. She was going to give in...for the freedom. “So, where are we going?” he said letting her wrist go.

“Seven fucking hells,” Arya swore, striding ahead and making her way to the nearest fence. At least the climb over that wouldn’t be so hard - she had an accomplice this time.

They had managed to make it to town before Arya and Gendry had said another word to each other. It wasn’t as though she was annoyed with him, but being the rebellious one, she was guarded more than she wished to be. Freedom always seemed somewhat out of reach, and that could have been her own fault, but she felt sheltered, kept from living a simpler life.

Being held accountable for every action wasn’t her style.

Being watched was also incredibly uncomfortable.

But at least it was Gendry?

“Where’s the bloody clown suit?” Arya said, nudging Gendry with her hip. He remained silent before his shoulder slumped.

“You always say I stick out like a fucking sore thumb when you end up in town, so I asked around, and got permission to wear my own clothes,”

“You’re my secret body man?” she gasped and Gendry, for the first time since being on this job, rolled his eyes.

“Be happy I’m letting you out of the goddamn grounds now,” he grumbled and Arya furrowed her brow, watching Gendry carefully.

“Isn’t Brienne gonna be mad at you for this?” she asked. Gendry’s jaw set tight before he replied.

“Nope.”

“No?”

“She’s allowed this to happen.”

Arya stopped and Gendry halted, looking back at her as she thought on what he said. “As long as you don’t lose me…” she said slowly, and Gendry took an uneasy step towards her, “this is your trial run.” Arya beamed as Gendry’s face dropped. She’d caught on quickly, and that wasn’t what he was expecting. Arya stepped back from him and he swiftly chased her step.

“Your highness,” he warned, “don’t...you...dare…”

Arya stood up straight, letting the mischievous grin fall, and a genuine smile take its place. “Why would I? I mean, hell it would be fun to see you searching the whole town, but this benefits me, remember? I’ll gladly suffer with your sorry arse today if I get to leave through the front door now and again,” she shrugged, taking them ahead, soon walking side by side, and the entire time. Arya felt determined for this day to go better than any other venture.

Towards the centre of the town she was used to roaming, they made their way into the park. On a bench, Arya sat patiently, watching the world go by as Gendry moved around her. He didn’t sit right away, and when he did, he placed himself on the grass. Before she’d even realised it, they had been there for over an hour, just taking in the day. No wonder Gendry was pacing for so long. Now laid back, arm over his eyes, Gendry relaxed there for a while before he gave a deep sigh. There was a thought that he shouldn’t really keep his eyes from her, but at a second glance, she saw him looking directly at her.

“Why didn’t we go anywhere?” Gendry asked, stretching out onto the grass. There were lies she was used to telling, explaining away her behaviour. It felt wrong to lie to him - he’d catch on and tell her to stop. Her family knew how to read her like he did, and she was scared she’d be called out like a fool.

“I don’t like the castle,” she swallowed, watching as Gendry perked up from the ground and looked at her, “it’s so hollow. And quiet,” she said, jaw going tight. She felt an odd chill race over her chest, as though admitting the truth was far scarier than she anticipated. Gendry stared for a moment before he shot up from the ground and sat down next to her.

Arya watched and waited for him to say something. “What’s the most random thing you’ve ever wanted to do?”

Arya’s brow knit tight as she looked at him, the smile on his face spreading and she could tell he was serious. “What?” she laughed.

“What’s the one thing you’ve always wanted to do? Whatever it is, we’ll do it,” he asked, giving a vague gesture to the world. Arya bit her lip, trying to contain the growing smile, but it wouldn’t let up, and she didn’t care.

“Come on,” she said, snatching his wrist and guiding him where she wanted to go.

~*~*~

Of all things, Gendry wasn’t quite expecting this. He stood, staring at the building with the budding suspicion that she was playing a trick on him. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d done it. He looked down to the excited princess, her little bounces of joy were something new, but Gendry still had no idea what the fuck was going on.

“Seriously?” he asked cautiously.

“You said anything,” Arya said, bounding in front of him to pose, hands on hips and beaming smile.

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes as Arya raced to a trolley, and they wound their way into Tesco. When he asked, he kind of imagined Arya picking bungee jumping, or driving a motorbike. This was...weirdly ordinary. If he thought about it, he should have considered it - all Arya ever did was totally ordinary - she never tried to be overtly rebellious

She was sheltered, and she just wanted to do things like everyone else.

It made sense why their first night together was as flirtatious as it was - she was trying to experience something she may not have before.

He wondered if she indulged in dwelling on that night like he did. He was hopelessly following her, but there was something deep within him that couldn’t care.

Arya, originally, was walking beside him as they started in the bread aisle. But soon, her fascination with everything became too overwhelming, and she raced off, grabbing everything on the shelves she thought she’d like. Gendry felt like a weird parent, but was unable to stop their rowdy kid.

“What’s this?” she asked, grabbing hold of something covered in chocolate. As far as he knew, she had no allergies - so, he shrugged.

“Chocolate stuff.”

“Let’s get it,” she said, tossing three in the trolley.

“Ok.”

“And this?” she asked again, shoving something in his hands. He read over the cover, inspecting the back and tossing it back to her.

“It’s kinda fruity?”

“Cool!” Arya threw it down into the cart, continuing down the aisle and into the next, finding the next thing that caught her fancy.

“An-”

“It’s a Japanese soda thing, I’ve never tried it,” he answered before she could ask. Going to the shelf, she stuffed more into the cart, making sure to get everything she wanted.

“We’re getting two!”

“Your dad needs to pay me more,” Gendry murmured to himself, leaning down on the handles, chin bouncing as the wheels jiggled against the ground. Even when the total for the entire trip was something absolutely ridiculous, Gendry forgot to care about how much money he was spending - Arya was so fucking happy, it made him want to buy her the entire store so she’d never have to leave.

He knew Arya would give him the money back - they had been on a few outings where he’d paid out of pocket, only for the money to come in on his next paycheck. It was usually marked under ‘Arya expenses’, and it always made him laugh. Either way, if he was helping her fulfill her most odd request, then he didn’t care.

They returned to the park, setting up on the grass once more and their haul spread out in front of them. Arya picked out a few sweets, taste testing and having a save and bin pile. She was getting through a majority of it as Gendry watched. Midway through her cull of the food, she picked up a drink and gave it to him. Mr Brown Iced Coffee. Arya shoved it towards him, and he rolled his eyes, taking it from her and cracking it open.

If asked what was the worst experience of Gendry’s life, he would have said when he was eighteen and went to a party where he drank too much, fell off a roof naked and managed to break his leg in front of the girl he liked.

But that was until he drank the horseshit he just had. He spat is across the grass, choking and spitting every chance he could.

“What the fuck did you make me drink!” he snapped, shoving it back to Arya who cackled like a maniac. Arya was slapping at his thigh, choking on her food as she lost her breath and laughed harder than he had ever heard her before. “This actually tastes like cigarettes,” he exclaimed, the saturating aftertaste tainted on his tongue.

“Have this,” Arya said between breaths, handing him something he knew and he immediately devoured it. For a moment, he tasted freedom, only for it to be swept away and replaced with the reteched taste of cigarettes once more.

“Everything is tainted now. I will never be the same,” he said, coughing and teeth scraping against his tongue to see if it helped.

“I’m sorry,” she tried not to smile, but the snicker she had proved she couldn’t handle herself.

“Fuck. Never get that. Ban that immediately,” he cursed, kicking the can away from them.

“I’m bring it up with Government right away,” Arya laughed.

Gendry liked hearing her laugh.

~*~*~

Arya had dragged Gendry through the Tesco, and even made him drink the iced coffee that apparently ruined a person’s life, but she felt content with her day. It felt ordinary - simply a wonderful day out without having to be told to smile every two seconds. She did it all on her own. Or maybe Gendry helped.

She wondered if he ever thought back to the night they met, the bar and alcohol getting to them. Wondered if he thought about whether or not they were actually going to kiss, and if Gendry thought about her lips like she sometimes caught herself doing about his. With him sprawled out across the grass, his shirt pulling up from his waist to show off the slow trail of hair leading down underneath his belt - she would have experienced him fully if it hadn’t been for her mother.

But that was long since gone.

He was a temptation for sure, but she wasn’t allowed to indulge no matter how much she wanted to. Instead, she kept those thoughts to herself, letting herself dream - to wonder how far up his chest the hair scattered or was he completely bare?

Before her thoughts could take shape and mould to every corner of her mind, Gendry sat up, sitting cross legged and got into Arya’s space.

“What else did you wanna do?”

“Can I see your apartment?” she asked, the moment the words left her mouth, she cursed the unbelievable reaction her horny mind took hold of. She knew she could play it off, but she also knew where the question originated from.

“My apartment?” he asked, a crinkle in the bridge of his nose. Clearing her throat, she reclined back, extending her arms behind her.

“Yeah! I wanna see where you live. Gotta be nicer than mine,” she said, regretting the phrase.

“You’re kidding right?” he scoffed.

“I mean, it’d feel like a home more than my house does,” Arya played off. Gendry seemed to wait a moment, looking up to the sky, the clouds darkening and rumbling with an on coming downpour.

“Fine, but only for a few minutes,” he said, gathering up all their things, piling them into their bags and Arya jumped up.

“Yes!”

Arya helped Gendry throw out their rubbish, walking just a step behind him as he guided them through the town. It was strange to be the one behind - Arya always led the way, Gendry always happy to follow just one step behind.

Then, as quickly as they had started walking, the sky ripped open, pouring out all the water that it had gathered and saturated everyone within moments of it’s first rumble. Arya sputtered water out of her face, trying to keep up with Gendry as his shoulder scrunched up towards his ears.

“Why are we walking in the rain?” Arya complained.

“Cause you decided you wanted to walk to the town, when my car is at the palace,” he snapped back to her.

“You’re giving me clothes when we get to yours,” she yelled over the beating rain and Gendry stopped mid step to look at her. They both seemed irritated at by the situation, but as they faced each other...something softened within them both. Anger dissipated, and warmth was all they wanted.

“Whatever, just hurry up,” he said, catching her wrist and dragging her down another street. He started to dash with her in toe, and there was something...fun about it all. He made her feel like she was on a true adventure that she’d never experienced - the simplicity of young romance, caught in the rain, only to wrap up in each other when the rain poured on outside. Arya knew she wouldn’t get that, but the lead up was one hell of an exploit and she loved it whilst it lasted.

They made it to a block of apartments, Gendry buzzing them in and shaking himself off once inside the lobby. He was almost like a dog, shedding the water from its coat, but she’d never voice that to him. Arya thought he might take offense to that. Making their way up a few floors, Gendry rustled around his jeans for his keys and opened the door.

With the lights turned on, Gendry shut the door behind them, both shivering as the downpour finally started to freeze them both.

“Wait here, I’ll get you a towel and some dry clothes,” he cleared his throat, walking down the hall, turning on more lights as he walked off.

“Thanks,” Arya called, not even listening to his request and wandering further into his apartment. It was a lot nicer than she expected. It was pristine white, furniture neatly placed around the TV, his kitchen was even big. In all - his apartment seemed huge, winding in different areas. But she suspected that he wasn’t living alone, his rent must have been high with how new and fancy it all seemed.

Arya was used to old and fancy shit. New and fancy was good.

She was excited when she saw his TV, not terribly big, but Arya didn’t mind. She jumped over the couch and sat on one of the throw blankets. She switched on the TV, letting herself relax and wait for Gendry. She flipped through channels, some shows about baking, others with political dramas or crime TV, others reality shows. She watched one of the crime shows, noticing that it took awhile for Gendry to come back out.

“What are you doing?” he asked, finally coming back in with a pile of things in his arms.

“I’ve never got to have one of these days. Just coming home, all bundled up in blankets and watching TV,” she said, pulling her legs up onto the couch for Gendry to sneak by and take a seat at the other end of the chair. It wasn’t like she didn’t have a TV in her own home, but there was something about how small the space was - not everything had to be a movie theatre. Even the TV in her own room made her feel like she couldn’t engage. This home felt warm and comforting.

“How mundane do you want your life to be?” he laughed, settling into the cushions of the couch. Gendry was now dressed in tracksuit pants and a tank top and soft varsity jacket. He looked good.

“Look, a castle isn’t a home. This is a home. It’s comfortable,” she said, flipping her wet hair over her shoulder. Some of the remaining water splashed against Gendry’s face and he scoffed, wiping it away and tossing her the things in his hands.

“Here, you can have these,” he groaned, folding his arms over his chest.

“Are you dressing me in some clothes from a one night stand?”

“They’re mine, princess, I just don’t fit in ‘em anymore,” he replied, a quirk in his brow as he held back on the question. Why should it matter?

Swallowing it away, Arya stood and went off to the hall, trying to navigate her way through his apartment without snooping through his shit. Instead, she found his bedroom - or the room she thought was his - and locked the door behind her. Running the towel over her hair, she wrapped it up as she stripped free of her watery clothes. Putting on Gendry’s old clothes was a little more difficult than she thought - his shirt hung over her like a dress, and the tracksuit pants didn’t stay up on their own. In the end, she rolled up the waistband as thick as she could, which helped with the dragging problem. The shirt, on the other hand, was something she couldn’t do much about other than tuck it into her new waistband. In the corner of the room, she saw Gendry’s clothes drying by a heater, and decided to leave her wet things with his.

Walking out into the living room again, trying to dry her hair again. Gendry looked over the back of the couch and scoffed. “Great look, princess.”

“Shut up,” she whipped her towel at him as she climbed over the back of the couch again. Gendry laughed as he caught the towel and the two of them relaxed, watching whatever shows came on that they both seemed to enjoy.

Through their casual conversation, ordering in dinner and lounging in his living room, she learnt that he lived alone. He had a roommate over a year back, but they left for a job out of the country. He said the rent was high, as she suspected, but the job with the palace kept him with enough money to get by easily. His mum would come and visit occasionally, but it was a rare occurrence now that he worked for the palace.

Eventually, they landed on the topic of the royals and how he got involved with being a security guy when he didn’t seem all that interested in it to begin with. Turns out, Jon offered it to him, but Gendry had no idea who any of the royals were.

“So what? You didn’t know I was a princess because you didn’t read the news?” Arya said, trying not to do another spit take when Gendry nodded, “and your best friend from university was who again?” Gendry laughed as he set his beer onto the coffee table.

“Jon is a private guy! I knew he was royal and shit, but I didn’t think it was my place to ask ‘hey why the fuck you living with your cousins’, so I never did,” Gendry shrugged as he started to go at his pizza again.

Arya shook her head. “You are a strange guy.”

“You’re one to talk,” Gendry mumbled with a mouthful of food. Arya laughed and he did too, the TV the only other sound whilst they ate. It occurred to her later in the night that she was waiting for the rain to let up to finally head home, but the comfort of his home was lovely...and the rain hadn’t stopped. So, she stayed.

“We should head back soon,” Gendry said as an episode of Star Trek finished. Arya had been invested in the campiness of it, thrilled with how weird and bizarre it all was. Reaching over Gendry, she snatched the remote and kept the channel running.

“Oh no, would you look at that,” she exaggerated, smacking a pillow against Gendry to keep him at bay. He huffed, settling back into his spot.

“You know we’re going to get in trouble and you’re never going to be allowed out again.”

“Yeah yeah, like that’s stopped me before,” Arya said, pulling her knees up onto the couch and sitting back on her heels.

“One more episode, princess, that’s it,” he sighed.

Midway through the episode, Arya’s phone buzzed. Taking it from her pocket, she noticed that Sansa had sent her a snapchat, as well as the fact that her phone was dying soon. She looked around to find Gendry’s charger, noticing it next to the TV set. She’d charge it after she saw what Sansa was sending her.

A video was sent and Arya could feel Gendry looking over her shoulder as she pressed the screen. Sansa was in the middle of Arya’s room, running around. ‘Bitch where are you? I came to annoy you, but you aren’t hereeeeee! Why don’t you clean your fucking room?’ She complained and laughed as she collapsed down onto Arya’s bed.

Immediately, Arya sent back a quick video. ‘Get out of my room, fuckface!’

Sending it through, she could still feel Gendry looking at her. Glancing his way, his grin widened. “Wow, sisterly love.”

“It’s love, bitch,” she said, giving an obnoxious pout before she giggled - her cheeks were red hot and she felt slightly embarrassed, “sorry, Sansa brings this out in me,” she explained.

“It’s fun,” Gendry shrugged.

“Wait, do you follow this twitter account?” she asked, shifting closer to Gendry and showing off a royal family meme account and some of their tweets. Gendry gave a slow nod.

“Yeah, they post some pretty funny things about you guys,” he said, as Arya beamed back at him. His jaw went slack as she showed him the profile more clearly, “no way! It’s you!” he asked. Arya nodded back excitedly.

“Oh hell yeah, the entire family knows about it and we send around a group chat for new shit to post,” she explained. Gendry sat in bewilderment for a moment before he sighed.

“The royal family, the original shitposters,” Gendry proclaimed and Arya laughed, sending the phrase out to the family group chat.

Somewhere during the night, she had drifted to sleep, clinging onto something for comfort. It wasn’t until it moved that Arya realised it was Gendry, and he had let her practically fall asleep against him. Still, she didn’t want to move.

“Hey, princess, let’s get back,” he whispered.

“Comfy,” she complained, snuggling up against him again. Gendry laughed.

“Thanks, but you falling asleep on me isn’t ideal.”

“I think it’s ideal.”

“Yeah, only ‘cause you’re getting to go to sleep,” he scoffed.

“I’d love to sleep with you.” The words slipped out, no filter to keep them contained, and she looked up at the man, shock and confusion written into his features, but she waited. To see if he would do something.

“Princess,” he whispered, his hand running up her cheek. It was bigger than she thought his hand would be, rough and calloused in different parts of his palm. Arya could barely keep her eyes open, but what she could see was Gendry moving towards her, breath heavy against her.

Her heart was pounding, wondering if his lips would dare to touch hers. He was inches from her lips, and her her felt up his chest, pulling lightly on his shirt. Have at it, she thought, dare to kiss me. She’d happily wake up for him to kiss her, to tempt her back to the land of the living. But soon, his breath stilled, and his hand slipped from her face, the space between them filled once more with cold air. “Come here,” he murmured, pulling her legs into his lap.

“Hmm,” she huffed as he stood, her arms instinctively going around his neck and head falling to his shoulder.

Arya was so tired, she barely registered what was going on, but she felt the comfort of a bed embrace her, tucked into blankets to wrapped her in warmth and the pitter-patter of rain against a window.

Sleep came so easily, she hardly registered that it had come at all until morning peered through the window and she felt more well rested than any day in the palace. Crawling out of bed, Arya shuffled into the kitchen, yawning and scratching at her hair. To her surprise, she found Gendry in the kitchen, wearing his tank top...and only his boxers.

“So, is this normal Gendry Waters attire?” she asked, and Gendry nearly collapsed to the floor, looked back at her with wild eyes.

“Why the fuck are you so silent?” he asked with a strangled breath.

“Small, I guess,” she shrugged, sitting at the breakfast table.

“French toast?” he offered, extending a plate to her.

“Wow, really?”

“I’ve had to learn,” he replied, “Want some or not?”

“Yes please,” she beamed, and Gendry handed her the ready plate.

After Gendry was finished making his own, they sat down across from each other and ate their breakfast. Arya remembered how the night ended, the missed opportunity, the silent way they both leaned in and waited for the other to break. She took tentative bites, waiting for him to say something, to make sure they were on the same page - but there was something between them that prevented the next step, more than the first night they met.

Arya was hot blooded, she wanted him, and she knew more than anything that she’d want him. But the tension that she was feeling had to be ignored, she couldn’t risk….

Risk? She thought. Risk was something she never truly thought of. Then, he walked in, making things hard. Making her attraction to him the hardest damn thing to understand and deal with. All because she couldn’t act on it - she couldn’t reach over the table and sit in his lap, take him exactly like she wanted.

She was stuck with the feeling of ready to pounce, her prey right in front of her, but there was a tether keeping her from jumping.

And Arya hated it.

“Did you leave your phone out here all night?” Gendry asked, pointing over her shoulder. She noticed her phone lit up, only for it to fade to black again.

“I think so? I left it to charge,” she said, letting her knife and fork clatter to the plate and go to her phone. Unplugging it, she went through all the notifications, only to feel her blood run cold. “Oh shit,” she swore. “Oh, holy fuck.”

Gendry stood quickly, almost making it to Arya’s side. “The last time you said that -”

“My mother called. She’s been worried where I am. And why I’m not back,” she sighed before looking up at Gendry, his hand running over his face.

“Fuck,” he swore back at her.

“Ok, we’re running back to the palace right?” she asked. Gendry went tight lipped, nodding with a grimace on his face.

“I don’t have my fucking car, so yeah,” he nodded.

“Get dressed,” she snapped, both of them racing off to his room and tossing each other clothes.

Grabbing everything they knew they needed, they raced to the palace. At one stage, they completely lost sight of each other, the race there more important than keeping track. Well, for Arya anyway. She didn’t see him for a while, but she thought he may have kept track of her.

They made it back to the palace by 8am, no one seemingly moving inside. Both of them were out of breath, their clothes a mess, and they didn’t smell too fresh either. They stood in the foyer, catching much needed breaths and dusting themselves off.

“Arya!” A deep voice called out. Arya spun to it, and smiled wide.

“Dad! Hey,” she exclaimed as he raced down the stairs to greet her. In a moment, he had picked her up from the ground, cuddled close in a bear hug as Arya tried to reciprocate the same tough arms, to no avail.

Setting her back on the ground, he let his hand rest on her cheek before sliding to her shoulder. “Your mother has been worried,” he warned her, before glancing to Arya’s side, noticing Gendry. “I’ll let her know you were sleeping in that spot again,”

“Thank you,”

“So, is this your new boyfriend?” he asked, extending his hand to Gendry, “Nice to meet you.”

Gendry stepped forward, tentatively taking Ned’s hand. “No, sir, no I’m...no, n-no,” he stuttered for the first time since Arya met him, and she couldn’t help it - she burst into laughter, “please stop laughing,” Gendry whispered through gritted teeth.

“Arya?” Ned asked, but she could barely stop to breath, let alone answer what was happening. She looked to Gendry, who was now growing a deep shade of red, and her laughter became uncontrollable.

“Sir, it’s not - I’m not!” Gendry tried, but the words were failing him as much as they were for her.

“He’s -” she couldn’t stop, she was on her knees, hand covering her face as the roaring laughter left her body.

“Really? This is funny to you?” Gendry asked, and Arya held up a finger, trying her hardest to regain some resemblance of composure, but his face was still so fucking red, she couldn’t help it.

“Gendry!” Another voice called, and Arya, from her position on the floor, saw Brienne racing over, meeting at the King’s side. “Sir, this is the new security guard for Arya,” she introduced, Arya completely on the ground, looking up as her laughter took over her.

“Oh, excuse me. A pleasure to meet you,” Ned apologised, shaking Gendry’s hand a little harder than before, clapping his shoulder in the process.

“You too, your majesty,” Gendry cleared his throat.

Brienne cleared her throat beside the King, showing him her watch and he sighed. “I have to go,” he shrugged, looking down at Arya, who had finally stopped laughed, still holding her stomach, “you should probably get her off the floor before she causes a scene,” he said. As he walked off, Gendry bent to Arya, picking her up and getting her back to her feet.

“This is the worst day of my life,” he whispered to himself.

“You froze up like a goddamn icicle,” Arya cackled, watching Gendry walk up the mountain of stairs in front of them.

“Fuck off.”

Arya gasped, catching up and poking Gendry in the side. “You can’t talk to me like that.”

“Watch me.”

“Icicle.” They looked at each other for a moment as they walked before Arya started to roar with laughter again. “You whole face is red! I can’t breathe!” She called out, holding onto the railing as Gendry huffed and continued on his way.

~*~*~

Ned walked in step with Brienne, heading to his office for a conference call with Robert Baratheon. The silence between them was irritating him, so he gestured for her to spit it out. “Your Majesty, why did you do that? You hand picked him for this new security job,” she asked, and Ned smiled to himself.

“I like hearing her laugh,” he chuckled softly. “Plus, his face was funny. Did you see how red he got? Like a bloody strawberry,” he exclaimed, clapping to himself as he gave another hearty laugh.

“But Your Majesty, you must know that they only just returned, they left yesterday morning. Should he be punished?” she said, and Ned paused, turning to the head of security. He furrowed his brow as he thought about it, and smiled softly.

“He brought her back in one piece. No injury, no harm. If he tried anything, I suspect Arya would have broken his nose, and he’s far too nervous to even successfully get himself into trouble. Leave them be,” he said, and Brienne nodded, smiling at the request. They continued to his office and at the door, he stopped himself, checking back with the security officer. “And let Arya leave the grounds. I’m sick of her trying to rebel. Maybe this way, she’ll feel freedom and use her title to put some good into the world. I know she can,” he shrugged, and Brienne smiled again.

“Yes, sir.”

~*~*~

Two days had passed since the run in with Arya’s father. They got word later that day that Arya was allowed out of the castle, to go around the local village however she liked, as long as Gendry was by her side. She didn’t mind that. The village already knew who she was, and they mostly kept things low key about her - never allowing paparazzi and things around when she was visiting, and making sure she had her privacy. It was one of the reasons Arya liked going to it - no one wanted to pry in her business.

Yet, on this day, she was stuck in her room, staring at a dress that she didn’t want to wear. There was a gala coming up, many lords and ladies were coming, to raise money for charities, but mostly to dress up. Arya chewed on her thumbnail, knowing she couldn’t get out of this, and she had to wear the fucking mess of a dress. It was her own secret punishment for spending the entire day out of the castle. Go to the gala...or never be allowed out again. She chose the former, for her mother.

The dress her mother picked out hung on display in Arya’s walk in wardrobe, pressed up against the mirror. It was a bundle of tulle, layer upon layer with the bodice lined with a tree branch design and beading. It was a mix of blue, lavender, black and champagne coloured tulle, wrapping around to make the bodice and straps until it reached the waist and became an overflowing creation.

It would have looked beautiful on anyone.

Except Arya.

She suspected her mother chose it because black was always a safe colour to put Arya in. But, with how heavy it all looked, Arya had a suspicion that she’d look like a doll that didn’t quite fit into the clothes.

The dress mocked her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away. If she weren’t afraid to look like an idiot, she’d fight the damn thing. In the end, she’d lose and look like an moron wearing the thing anyway.

So, instead, she stared, wondering if her gaze would burn holes in the fabric and it’d mean she didn’t have to attend the stupid gala.

A knock came to the door of her wardrobe, and she turned to see Gendry. He was dressed in a suit like he had been for the last several months. And to think, she was getting used to seeing him in his normal clothes, and it had only been a few days.

“Penguin suit again, I see,” she said, turning back to the dress.

“I’m off your assignment for the day. Going on Jon’s detail,” he explained, standing beside her, looking at the dress.

“He’s not as fun as me, though,” she bat her eyelashes at him, and he turned to her, barely giving her any emotion.

Gendry shrugged. “I’ll tell you after.”

“Rude,” she sneered, “what am I meant to be doing today?” she asked.

“Try not to freak out Podrick? I don’t know, go see your mum or something,” he replied.

“I’ll give the guy a break, I promise.”

“What’s with the dress, your highness,” he asked, and something brewed in her chest, and she couldn’t stop the frustration billowing out as it did.

“God, I hate you calling me that.”

“I have to address you like that,” Gendry scoffed.

“Can you just call me Arya! It isn’t that hard,” she huffed, leaning against of the closet doors. Gendry suddenly turned to her, stepping in towards her abruptly, catching her off guard.

“Every other security person calls you ‘your highness’, why am I different?” he asked, and Arya swallowed hard.

“It’s for a gala. My whole family is going. I have to look...pretty,” she pointed to the dress, turning back to it as to not face him. She was glad her hair was covering her face, because she knew her face was going pink.

“Not like it’d be very hard,” he replied, and Arya’s jaw went tight, biting at the inside of her lip. “I’m off, just came by to tell you I’m with Jon today,” he explained, turning and heading out of her wardrobe.

“See you around, major cunt,” she called over her shoulder.

“And they call you a princess,” he laughed towards the door of her room. Arya turned back to the door, wondering if he had truly left, or if she could see him one last time that day. Instead, she turned back to the dress.

~*~*~

Gendry knocked at Robb’s bedroom door, opening it when he heard the faint ‘come in’ voice from the other side. Jon and Robb sat on a pair of chairs, watching something on a TV set. Gendry walked in, giving a soft bow to Robb. “Your Highness,” he greeted, then looked towards his university friend, and gave a smug smile. “Jon.”

“Fuck you,” Jon spat, standing and embracing Gendry tightly.

“Just having a little fun,” he said, standing at arm's length and noticing that the two men didn’t look like they were going anywhere important, “can I ask why I was requested today?”

“We wanted to give you a break,” Robb said, Jon moved around and gestured for Gendry to take his seat.

“From what?” Gendry laughed, moving slowly towards Jon.

“We’re sorry you’re stuck with this duty, Gendry,” Jon said, clapping his shoulder, knocking Gendry slightly off balance. Gendry took the chair and sat down across from the next in line.

“We know Arya can be a handful,” Robb said, as though he were apologising.

“She’s easy to manage,” Gendry played off.

“Are you serious? Our sister is the most wild person on the planet. Reining her in is impossible,” Jon recounted.

“I think you just have to find the right way to handle her,” Gendry gave a vague hand gesture. He felt cornered by the two men, both looking towards each other with a grimace on their faces.

“The way you’re talking sounds so wrong, Waters,” Robb groaned. Jon smacked his shoulder.

“Like he wants to handle her, right?” Jon said, raising his brow.

“Dude...that’s your sister,” Gendry scoffed, “how are you guys royalty? Fucking disgusting, the both of you.” And as the two laughed, Gendry did too. He definitely thought they had seen how he felt for their sister.

“Come on, it’s a day off. We’re not going anywhere, we’ve got suit fittings and shit, and we need an extra for footy later. You in?” Robb explained, waiting for Gendry to say anything.

“Sure,” he smiled, unbuttoning his suit jacket, “but I’ll kick your ass, I don’t give a shit if you’re next in line for the throne,” he joked, standing up next to Jon.

“Nice try, Robb will knock your ass to the ground before you get a shot at him,” Jon said, clapping Gendry’s shoulder again.

“Wish you lot had told me I wasn’t going to be on a real security detail, I wouldn’t have worn my suit,” Gendry complained and Robb shook his head.

“We’ll give you something, don’t worry.”

~*~*~

Catelyn Stark was a hard woman to negotiate with. Arya knew she got her stubbornness from her mother, but arguing with her was like facing a wall that would collapse on you at any moment. Arya stood no chance when she was shoved into the bathroom and told to strip down and put on the dress. The unfortunate thing about the dress was that where the straps went down, it left her backless, reaching her waist where the tulle skirt started. Which also meant, in her mother’s eyes - she had to be proper. No bra, but she had to wear one. So she wore one of those stick on bras.

It wasn’t like Arya needed it, she wasn’t exactly voluptuous by any means, but for propriety's sake, it kept Arya decent. Walking back out with the mountain of tulle in hand, to stop herself from tripping, she stepped up on a box for the seamstress to analyse Arya in front of three mirrors. Arya’s room became a fashion show, and she detested it.

“You can leave for this, Podrick,” Catelyn said, gesturing for Podrick to leave. He smiled to Arya, giving her a thumbs up and she giggled. As much as she loved running away from the guy, Pod was nice, and he cared about her family.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, bowing and leaving the room once more. The seamstress started to take notes on length, mentioning that she was leaving the back with length to give Arya a train, and the idea of it made Arya roll her eyes. She also notes that the waist would need to be taken in.

“You didn’t have to be here for this, mum,” Arya complained, hearing the undeniable sound of a snapshot, and darting her gaze to her bed, “and neither do you, your highness.” Arya poked her tongue out at her sister.

“But you look so pretty,” she beamed, taking another photo.  

“If I find that on the internet, I’m killing you,” Arya warned and Sansa raised her hands, reclining back into the bed, lounging across and making faces towards Arya. When Arya was young, she and Sansa never got on. But when the teenage years had faded, the two sisters became playful and Arya was able to joke around with her sister as much as had her brothers. Sansa, to the general public, was the sweetest and most innocent woman. But Arya knew her sister, the weirdo that found memes almost as well as Arya.

“Arya, watch your tongue,” Catelyn warned.

“Sorry.”

“I think if we adjust the straps here -” Catelyn started to instruct the seamstress, pulling the straps down at the back, and fitting it closer to Arya’s chest, “perfect,” she exclaimed.

“I’ll make note of the measurements, your majesty,” the seamstress replied.

“Sansa, we need to make sure the length on yours is correct, come along,” Catelyn said, talking to the seamstress about Sansa’s gown and the alterations they were considering making. Sansa stood up from the bed, dusting herself off and dancing her way over to Arya. She giggled as she watched her sister shimmy her way towards her. Sansa caught Arya at the waist and smiled up to her.

“You do look nice. It definitely suits you,” Sansa whispered, kissing Arya’s cheek.

“Thanks,” Arya whispered back to her sister.

“Be careful with the zipper, Arya, it sticks,” Catelyn warned and Arya huffed, trying to reach around the bundles of tulle to get to the zipper. But she failed, and was stuck staring at her reflection.

Arya kept fiddling at her waist, the band sitting in a position she wasn’t used to. She felt like she needed to move it down towards her hips, stop having it be up so high, but that wasn’t how dresses worked, she reminded herself. Letting out a long huff, she stared in the mirror, looking at the way the dress fell and knowing for certain, the girl staring back wasn’t her.

It may have looked like her, but she wasn’t comfortable like Arya was, nor dressed like Arya did. A dress wearing Arya, wasn’t Arya.

Yet, for a split second, when she pushed hair behind her ear, looking at her reflection, she wondered - would someone think she was beautiful? Would he spot her and smile, think she would make the room glow.

Would Gendry tell her that?

Would she finally feel…

No. That was a ridiculous thought. Dresses weren’t her. She hated them, and she hated having to dress like a lady when that wasn’t what she felt like. She was a woman, but she wasn’t built for the finer things - she liked mud, and blood, and getting her hands dirty.

She wasn’t beautiful.

Even if for a split second, she thought she was.

[nationaldvam]

After the New Year a few years ago, I bought myself a copy of Marie Kondo’s The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. It wasn’t a book I actually felt I needed; if anything, I’m almost annoyingly tidy already, a veritable Roomba of a human. I’d moved fifteen times in the decade since I’d turned 18, each time trying to shed whatever I no longer wore.

I bought Kondo’s book mostly as a ploy to get my boyfriend, Rob, to clean out his nightstand. Our courtship had been a steady reclamation of his less-tidy space by my relentless wave of tidiness. (Whatever’s going on in Marie Kondo’s brain that makes her say “I love mess!”, I have it, too.) His nightstand, though, was The Place He Put Things. A place I ached to clean.

The book arrived, and after weeks spent suggesting he read it, I finally decided to live by example. I did as Marie Kondo prescribed: I emptied my closet and bureau into a pile on the living room floor, separated their contents into a peak of jackets and a peak of dresses. One by one, I picked items up and asked myself whether they sparked joy. If they didn’t, into the discard pile they went.

I didn’t take me long to see it, what the discard pile was. It was only the skirts, only the dresses, only the flowers and lace and sparkles. It was everything I’d bought hoping that some colleague might say: Isn’t that cute?

I burst into tears, shame filling me entirely, and then I laughed about the fact that this book had made me cry, this silly, stupid cleaning book.

For months — well, years — I’d carried around a stack of telling moments in my mind, ones I’d shuffle periodically, ones I knew told me something but something I didn’t want to acknowledge to myself, let alone admit. For example, there was this one moment back before I’d quit my job. I had worked at a start-up media company. It was the sort of office that looks fun and has fun snacks and there’s pressure to dress up on fun holidays like Halloween. One Halloween, I’d come as Ace Ventura.

After lunch they were giving prizes to those who’d really gone above and beyond costume-wise, myself not included. I stood in the crowd next to a colleague who’d come dressed as her boss. Earlier her costume had gotten a big reaction, though, because it was her dressing as him: sneakers, jeans, glasses, of course the hoodie. Everyone laughed. Now we were standing around, drinking booze, eating sugar. I told her I liked her costume and she looked embarrassed.

“I feel so awkward. Don’t you feel awkward?” she asked.

I didn’t get what she meant.

“Dressing like a guy!” she said.

“Oh,” I said, and without thinking added: “I always dress like a guy for Halloween, or at least a lot of the time.”

(I mentally flipped through prior Halloweens: My first costume, at age three, an authentic lederhosen. In elementary and middle school, I’d dressed as a male nerd, a male tourist, Charlie Chaplin. When I was in grad school in Iowa, in my mid-twenties, I’d won second place at a roller derby halftime costume contest dressed as Justin Bieber. When I said “Justin Bieber” into the judge’s mic, someone in the crowd shouted, “That’s a chick!”)

“That’s funny,” I said to my colleague, “I haven’t noticed that before.”

Which was funny, because just getting dressed, day-to-day, I struggled with, always. Most mornings my bedroom floor would be lost beneath tops and skirts pulled on and torn off. I’d apply eye makeup or lipstick, then remove it, then change my mind again. I’d pause at the door and cringe and end up back in my room, eyeing the clock, and pull the shirt from the day before from the laundry. It had always been like this.

Back then, I was always sweating. At work I sweated through shirts and cardigans and sometimes jackets, too. If I thought about the sweat it seemed to get worse. In the summer especially I’d go hide in the bathroom a while, wait until the whole joint was empty so I could crouch with my pits beneath the hand dryer. Sometimes I told myself little lies about how I was getting better, generally — getting better at having style, getting better at faking confidence.

I knew deep down this was all a fiction. If anything, I sensed I was getting worse at even leaving the apartment. It grew harder to dress for work; I eventually wore the same few items over and over: a black maxi dress, lace-up sandals, a jean jacket to mop up sweat.

But then I sold a book, and realized that to finish it, I had to quit my job. This meant no more office or coworkers. It meant I didn’t have to leave the house at all. This idea — never having to dress for work again — was appealing for reasons I still couldn’t quite explain.

Now with no office to go to, I rarely dressed, and if I did I wore sweatpants. The days I did go out, for an appointment or a meeting, I might force myself to dress up. Tripping down a cobblestone street one afternoon in heels, I wondered who the hell I was trying to fool.

I eventually ran out of the one makeup item I still sometimes wore, red lipstick, and now found myself incapable of making the trip to Sephora to buy more. The place had always make me melt with nervousness, but now, so unpracticed at being in public, I felt somehow incapable of going inside. I finally convinced a friend to come with me. I found myself trying to explain to her that doing something like buying lipstick was very hard for me. I don’t think she understood what I meant. I don’t think I understood what I meant.

A few days later I wrote about the lipstick incident in a blog post. I published it hurriedly, before I could talk myself out of it. In the post, for the very first time to anyone, I acknowledged what that day I termed “my gender stuff.”

A month later, kneeling and sobbing before my Marie Kondo discard pile, it felt silly, sure, that this book is what had finally done it, but I also couldn’t unsee my actual preferences: so much of the feminine clothing I owned did not spark joy.

I donated it all. I hung and folded the items that remained: flannel shirts, baggy jeans, t-shirts. I had kept a few dresses and heels and feminine winter coats, ones that had seemed really special when I’d bought them. I knew Marie Kondo wouldn’t have approved of my choice to keep them. Each day I passed them and they stared right back at me.

During the months that followed, I steadily shed feminine things. One day, all my makeup: gone. Another day, all my earrings: gone. (My ears had been pierced when I was two!) I tried to do as Marie Kondo said and thanked these items for what they’d given me. I guiltily threw them out, and then felt wonderful.

One August day, I donated the last of my heels and dresses, the ones that had once been my absolute favorites. I happened to run into someone I knew in line at the thrift shop, and he offered to take my box of things to donate. I put them in his trunk and watched him drive away. I didn’t say to him, nor could I have articulated, that I was throwing out the last of me pretending to be a woman.

Walking away, I felt joy, an almost ridiculous joy. I also felt terror, like when a cartoon has walked off a cliff and is standing blissfully on air.

A few days later, Rob and I happened to be flying to another city on vacation. I packed a mostly empty suitcase. When we got there, I said, I’d force myself to go shopping.

Rob knew I’d gotten rid of a lot of my clothes, and I’d begun to talk about gender, but, like me, he didn’t know where I was going with any of this.

The first store was GAP-like. To my left were waifish white mannequins wearing blouses and skirts, cashmeres and scarves; to the right were slightly bigger ones in belted khakis and button downs.

I walked straight ahead, wanting to turn right but afraid. I broke left through the dresses, feeling immediately disappointed in myself, Rob following behind.

I swerved back to the right, hurriedly walking through the men’s things now, wondering if anyone was on to me. I looked at a pair of pants, willing myself to pick them up. How would I ever figure out my size? How could I ever work up the nerve to walk back to the dressing room? I felt like I was going to throw up or pass out. I marched back out the glass doors, with Rob behind me.

We found a café and I cried and tried to tell him some of my story, the first I’d ever told anyone any of it, really. I recalled being three and learning my bedroom walls were painted green because my parents had expected me to be a boy, a fact I had always loved. I recalled how the nickname I’d had since birth, Sandy, was a name for boys and girls both, another fact I had always loved.

“For as long as I can remember, this is who I’ve been,” I explained to him: internally not-female, or not just female, though I didn’t know what this made me instead.

“I love you,” he said, “I support you.” He seemed less surprised than I’d have guessed he be. What fear I had that he would love me less if I were honest about it all was quickly dissolving.

I finished an iced tea. I felt better.

We resolved that I could try going into a second store. He held my hand. I nervously felt along the side that had masculine things. The woman behind the register was wearing a ballcap herself and didn’t seem bothered. I went into a dressing room and tried on item after item. Every time I emerged, Rob beamed.

I couldn’t afford to buy much of anything that day, so when he took out his card, I didn’t stop him; I’d never felt so grateful.

That evening, we went on a date. I wore a new button down, trousers, Oxfords. We moved down the street, his hand in mine, which was shaking, so terrified by the question of what we must look like to others.

Nobody much noticed, or if they did and cared, they didn’t show it. This, I’ve since learned, is often the way of things.

Before that night, I realized, I had never before been both “dressed up” and comfortable.

“You look hot,” Rob said, and unlike how I’d always reacted to such sentiments, I didn’t want to swat away his compliment like a gnat.

The best feelings are the converse of this cisgender othering: the moments of communion, however brief, I share with other queer and trans people out there in the world. Like last June, I walked down Sixth Avenue during the NYC Dyke March, one body in a long splay of bodies, bodies with voices, bodies with drums, and I felt, for the first time ever, like I was surrounded by my peers.

That year I didn’t leave the apartment much because there was always work to be done, and because what would I wear? Because what was I even doing? Because sometimes I’d cry so hard.

I had learned words for myself, words like nonbinary and trans, but I couldn’t yet imagine saying these words about myself to anyone. Trump was elected. The apartment was high in a building with a terrace. I’d stand on it barefoot and study the traffic on the avenue below.

That year I read books — books for the book I was writing, but also books about gender, books I’d finally let myself get after years of not buying such books. When I finally read Julia Serano’s Whipping Girl, I reflected a long time on my choice of Halloween costume that time at work, Ace Ventura. Serano reminded me that the entire plot of Ace Ventura: Pet Detective turns on the “reveal” of a transgender woman. At the movie’s climax, Ace outs a trans woman for the “fake” that she is — literally spinning her around to show her tucked genitals — at which he and everyone else vomits profusely, including Dan Marino and the Dolphins’ mascot, a dolphin.

I recalled other transphobic — specifically transmisogynist — cultural artifacts that attracted me when I was younger, realizing in fact that so much of the comedy I loved growing up hinged on the joke of crossdressing: Mrs. Doubtfire, Monty Python, Little Britain. Also the joke of gender non-conformity, in the case of It’s Pat. I probably loved these things both because they brought up the topic of gender, which did greatly interest me, and because they shamed me, bullied me away from acknowledging my own truth.

Sometimes I would be forced to leave the apartment. I’d put on new clothes, ones that made me feel a flutter of pride. Friends wouldn’t recognize me. Strangers would stare. Or they’d call me “sir” and I’d be stunned but also unsure whether I wanted to correct them. I also felt that these were the first times I’d ever dared to show myself honestly to the world.

Sometimes I’d run into someone I knew — a girl from back home, a guy from grad school. I’d see them avoid my eyes, sure that they didn’t know me. I’d feel hurt, and then I’d see them realize, say something like, “You got a haircut.”

Sometimes I’d have to attend some event or occasion I hadn’t since the change, like a job interview or funeral. Attempting to dress, I’d fall apart, totally lose nerve. Rob would stand with me, tie my tie, wipe my tears. At that funeral, some relatives didn’t recognize me, and others thought I was my brother. But then they did see it was me.

“Sandy!” they said. After, I’d feel a supreme relief, like at least now they know, even if they don’t get it.

I worked up all the courage I had and made an appointment at an actual barbershop. For years I’d gone to a salon that smelled like chardonnay and chemicals, pretended the whole time I wasn’t having a panic attack.

In the barbershop the men didn’t seem to notice me. I got the cut I wanted. I exited feeling something like pride, rubbing the buzz on the back of my neck. Walking through the park on my way home, I stopped and did something I’d never much been tempted to do before, which was post a selfie. I shook with nerves.

I never used to picture myself in middle or old age, but now I do. That began happening after I came out. Another new thing I started to feel was that I love myself. Not just how I look, my haircut, my style, though I do love those things. I now love my body itself to an extent I’d never have imagined was possible. Before I hated everything about me, body included, totally, powerfully, if for reasons I couldn’t quite spell out.

Presenting myself now, in a way that’s honest about how I’ve always mentally straddled the gender divide, I also feel the cruelty of gender-segregated spaces more sharply. I hate the TSA and avoid changing rooms. Cis women in bathrooms sometimes look shocked or horrified when they see me, or they make frowning remarks (like “This the men’s?”). I contemplate going into men’s rooms but frankly, I’m too scared of men. If I’m being honest, I avoid being in public still, as much as I can.

These days, I’m called “sir” and “ma’am” with equal frequency. Sometimes people think I’m male at first and then realize I’m not, usually when I talk, and sometimes I then see a wild anger in them. In those moments, I feel my vulnerability. Though in other senses I feel safer; I am no longer constantly catcalled, as I was before — that drumbeat of male violence, muffled. All the time I feel how arbitrary these categories are. All the time, I know this is all just about power.

Some who see me now are excited about my apparent difference. In a restaurant, a waitress ran over, grinning, nearly shouting, “What are you?”

The best feelings are the converse of this cisgender othering: the moments of communion, however brief, I share with other queer and trans people out there in the world. Like last June, I walked down Sixth Avenue during the NYC Dyke March, one body in a long splay of bodies, bodies with voices, bodies with drums, and I felt, for the first time ever, like I was surrounded by my peers. I felt really quiet that day, like no words would work. I still find myself unable to describe that feeling of having community. Suffice it to say, it sparked joy.

I’m 31 now, and living a life that a few years ago I couldn’t have imagined. My book’s paperback calls me Sandy and they/them. Rob and I married and moved to an old farmhouse in the country. I now have two floors of rooms to tidy. I often wander delightedly for hours, scrubbing and straightening and vacuuming cat fur and flies and once, with a whoosh — to my great surprise — the skeleton of a baby mouse.

Rob and I write out our chores on a big spool of brown paper by the fridge, to ensure we contribute evenly. I am proud of us, of him, for how we’ve managed to share the responsibilities of maintaining this home. And yet, through all this change, a constant remains, bulging with wires and papers and who knows what else, the one place I’ve accepted I’ll never tidy: his nightstand.