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aliciameade · 5 years

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Ready Or Not

Title: Ready Or Not Author: aliciameade Rating: E for Every Lady Gets an Orgasm Pairing: Beca/Chloe Summary: AND THEY WERE QUARANTINED.

Also on AO3

It’s funny, Beca thinks, how you can live with someone for years going about your separate but intertwined lives that when your government tells you to stay inside, to only socialize with the people you share a home with, how quickly things can change.

“Chloe, will you please turn off the news? I can’t listen to that idiot anymore.”

“Sorry; it’s like a train wreck. I can’t look away.” Chloe finds the remote in the cushions of the couch and changes the channel to the E! Network.

The news isn’t much different there; they’re showing videos celebrities have posted on social media about how bored they are or singing off-key versions of ‘Imagine’ to try to uplift the public only for the anchors, two of them standing six-feet apart, to debate whether or not such things are in poor taste.

“Are we supposed to feel bad for these multi-millionaires being stuck in their mansions with their huge yards and private swimming pools?” is the point being argued.

“Yeah, boohoo,” Beca says as she drops onto the couch next to Chloe. She’d gone to the kitchen to get a new bag of chips but managed to make a healthier decision and came back with a bowl of grapes instead. “We don’t even have a pool.”

“But at least we don’t have a bathtub in our kitchen anymore,” Chloe says as she helps herself to a few of Beca’s grapes.

Beca nods in response. This whole social distancing thing would have been a lot more irritating if it had happened last year when she and Chloe shared an impossibly small studio apartment (if you could even call it that) with Fat Amy. The thought of being locked in that space for weeks makes Beca’s skin crawl. She loves Amy, but she is not the tidiest or quietest of roommates.

She glances at Chloe, fresh-faced and hair damp after the shower she just took, tucked into her couch-nest with a fuzzy blanket and thinks there are about a million worse scenarios she could be stuck in than this one.

It had been nice to get that paycheck from Khaled’s record label. It had been just as nice for Amy to get access to the hundred-plus million dollars she somehow had. They were able to part ways without the guilt and drama Amy was prone to when asked to take responsibility for something. She’d been eager to drop a cool ten million on a house in the South of France. It made Beca’s job of breaking the news that she wouldn’t be renewing their lease a lot easier.

She’s still not quite sure how it happened, though. Maybe it was because Chloe was the only one who didn’t suddenly have an unnecessary amount of money at her disposal. Maybe it was because their orbits were always drawn to one another.

But when Beca moved to Los Angeles and bought a house, Chloe rush-applied to area veterinary schools to beat the looming application deadlines and managed to get into one.

They hadn’t even really discussed it. “Beca moving to LA” was inclusive of “Chloe moving to LA to live with Beca.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t post that video of us playing catch out back,” Beca says as they watch the debate about people who are privileged and whether they are out of touch with reality or if hardship and inconvenience is relative.

“Maybe not,” Chloe agrees.

It’s not that Beca thinks she’d ever show up as a debate topic on tabloid television, but she’d rather not risk it.

“What do you want to do today? And don’t say Monopoly,” she adds as soon as Chloe’s mouth opens to answer.

Chloe immediately whines. “But I want us to play!”

“And I want us to still be friends when this is over,” Beca says with a biting, sarcastic smile.

“Ooh, I know!” Chloe says, unfazed by Beca’s rejection. “Let’s get drunk!”

“That’s not really an activity…” Beca says but she knows she’s going to lose this debate.

Chloe’s already detangling herself from her blanket and heading toward the kitchen. “If getting drunk at 3:00 in the afternoon isn’t acceptable during a viral pandemic, then when is it?”

Beca just shakes her head. She’s opposed to the idea, it’s just that Chloe is so...Chloe.

Chloe who usually gets her way, not because she’s a good negotiator but because Beca finds it almost impossible to tell her ‘no.’ (Activities that would lead to contempt and arguing like a game of Monopoly are exceptions.)

“Beer or wine?” Chloe calls from the other room.

“I don’t care,” Beca yells back. If there’s one thing they stocked up on far more than she knows was necessary, it was alcohol.

She should have made a choice. She knows better. When Chloe returns, she’s holding a bottle of expensive tequila, a shot glass nestled in one of two tumblers, and a plastic bowl of ice.

“Oh, whoa, seriously?” she says as Chloe sets her wares down on the smooth black coffee table with a smile. Shots of tequila weren’t exactly what Beca had in mind.

“Calm down, I have to make another trip. I’m making margaritas.”

Not that she wouldn’t have done them if that had been Chloe’s intention.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

“You know what we should do?”

Beca looks down at Chloe who’s using Beca’s leg as a pillow. “Hmm?”

“We should play hide-and-seek!”

Beca’s not sure what she expected Chloe to propose, but it definitely wasn’t that. “Dude, what?”

“Yeah!” Chloe says, suddenly full of energy after dozing on the couch for a few minutes. She scrambles to sit up. “Come on; it’ll be fun!”

All she can do is stare at her and her dumb, pretty face. “Fine,” she relents (much too easily).

Chloe squeals and immediately covers her eyes with her hands. “I’ll count to 100. Go.”

Beca’s reluctant agreement morphs into nervous adrenaline as soon as Chloe begins counting and she leaps off the couch, stumbling when her foot gets caught in Chloe’s blanket.

She hears Chloe laugh through her numbers and realizes Chloe can hear her route. She mutes her steps, creeping quickly but quietly away as her mind races for the optimal hiding spot.

Then she’s got it.

She walks as lightly as she can through the house until she’s taking the stairs two at a time to get to what will eventually be an office or study (she hates herself a little that she bought a house that will have a study in it). It’s still empty save for a few dozen books on the shelves, some of them novels, some of them old textbooks. The room has a closet and when Beca had been scoping out good storage spots in the house for things like seasonal decorations, she’d found what was arguably a creepy-as-fuck hidden door in the wall of the closet.

She never got around to telling Chloe about it; she’d been at a day-long lab that Beca didn’t want to interrupt with a text and then she promptly forgot about it.

Until now.

She creeps through the second floor, wincing when she hits a squeaky floorboard in the hallway. The rest of her journey is silent, though, and she pops open the push-latch door to slip inside and close it behind her.

She can hear Chloe’s voice faintly yelling, “Ready or not, here I come!” and regrets not bringing her phone with her.

There’s no way Chloe’s going to find her any time soon. Plus, it’s pitch-dark.

Chloe’s voice echoes around the house, taunting Beca as she searches downstairs. It makes Beca snicker because Chloe is way, way off until she can tell she’s making her way up the stairs.

“You could at least make it difficult for me,” Chloe says somewhere in the hallway, still taunting as if it will goad Beca into revealing herself.

She can hear her opening and closing closet doors in the hall and the other rooms but she remains confident even when she can hear Chloe’s voice quite clearly from the study a few feet away.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Chloe sing-songs and Beca hates that it makes her anxious. Her voice is louder like she’s just outside the door that Chloe doesn’t even know exists when it suddenly pops open, blinding Beca with a flood of light.

“Gotcha!” Chloe says with a jump of victory but Beca’s too quick for her, something her petite stature is good for.

She scrambles out of the closet and past Chloe. “You didn’t tag me!” she yells, grinning as she launches into a full sprint, nearly sliding down the stairs to make it back to the couch in time.

“We didn’t declare a home base!” Chloe shrieks behind her and Beca can hear her running, too.

“It’s the couch!”

“Not fair!” Chloe yells and Beca hears her on the steps.

It makes her launch herself onto the couch, right over the arm of it and she scrambles for the blanket to hide under even though she’s already safe; it’s silly adrenaline and she can’t stop smiling as she hears Chloe in a full-out run through the living room.

“No!” Her cry of defeat is nearly a wail and Beca’s still savoring victory when the wind is nearly knocked out of her.

“Dude!” she says when Chloe lands right on top of her. “I made it back, you can’t tag me!”

She fights to hang on to the blanket as Chloe tugs it away until it’s off her face, leaving Beca to sputter and try to blow hair out of her eyes. She stops when she sees Chloe above her, face flushed from excitement and exertion smiling down at her. But the smile is fading, bit by bit, into something else and it feels like the air around them shifts.

“You cheated,” Chloe says.

Beca has to swallow the sudden lump in her throat. “Not my fault you don’t know the rules.”

She keeps waiting for Chloe to move off her and let her up, to tell her it’s Beca’s turn to count and Chloe’s turn to hide, but instead, Chloe seems to get heavier, to press Beca further into the couch beneath her.

An eternity seems to pass. She struggles to keep her gaze steady; it’s hard to hold eye contact with Chloe in a normal setting: they’re so bright and full of life. It’s a relief when Chloe’s are the first to break eye contact but only until Beca realizes Chloe’s focus shifted, albeit briefly, to her lips.

Her heart had been racing from the excitement of the game and the thrill of the win but suddenly it’s for an entirely different reason.

When Chloe looks up again Beca can’t help but let her own eyes flick down, almost feeling like if Chloe was allowed to, Beca should be allowed to, too. It’s subconscious for Beca to wet her lips when she sees the way Chloe’s are parted the tiniest bit.

Her mind races as quickly as her heart. She’s thought about this so many times over their decade of friendship. The way they’ve always danced around each other (while still dancing with each other all the time). How it wasn’t even up for debate that Chloe would move to Los Angeles, too. How she didn’t hesitate to put the house in both their names, not just her own. How she’s been a little bit (a lot) in love with her friend for so many years.

She wonders if Chloe’s moving closer or if it’s her imagination. If she is, she’s moving so slowly it’s almost indiscernible, but her eyes keep flicking down and back up. It’s excruciating to wait to find out what is about to happen. What Beca thinks is about to happen.

What Beca decides to make happen as she lifts her head and presses her lips to Chloe’s.

It’s another eternal moment but it passes in the blink of an eye.

There’s some kind of sound from Chloe, maybe a whimper?, and Beca’s not quite finished regretting her actions that will surely make things super weird between them when Chloe’s tongue slips across her lips and into Beca’s mouth.

It shouldn’t happen so fast. It shouldn’t be so natural for Beca to tilt her head to the left just as Chloe tilts hers. She shouldn’t feel so hot so quickly; Chloe helps as much as she contributes to it, suddenly tugging at the blanket between them to let it fall to the floor. It gives Beca a second of cool air before Chloe’s body is on her instead. It shouldn’t be so mindless for her to twist her hips and part her knees so Chloe can fit against her more comfortably.

It shouldn’t be a lot of things, but Beca stops listing off all the things it shouldn’t be in favor of all the things it is.

Like how desperate and heated their kiss has become. How Chloe doesn’t seem to know what to do with her hands since this began in a slightly awkward position but doesn’t quite want to stop to rearrange herself so instead her fingers bury themselves in Beca’s hair.

Beca doesn’t have the same problem. Her hands are free to roam, and she lets them roam.

Chloe’s back is solid beneath her hands. She can feel it every time Chloe takes a breath. They’re uneven and deep and in synch with Beca’s because the only chance they have to take in air is when Chloe lifts her mouth from Beca’s. Even the few seconds they spare for oxygen feel like too much time apart for Beca and she finds herself chasing Chloe’s lips even though they’re both breathing hard.

She catches Chloe off-guard, cutting into their oxygen break with her tongue. She’s thought endlessly of what it would be like to frame Chloe’s perfect face with her hands, tilt it to the angle she wants, and keep her there to make her submit to whatever Beca wants to do to her mouth.

The moan that escapes Chloe when Beca does just that, tongue pushing far into Chloe’s mouth to explore before retreating to start licking over Chloe’s makes a sound escape Beca, too.

It’s as though the mutual audible release is gasoline to a lit match.

Chloe’s entire body shifts forward into Beca and it makes Beca moan again and give up the brief control she had as Chloe kisses her so hard her head presses uncomfortably against the arm of the couch. Her neck is going to be killing her tomorrow but she doesn’t care. There’s only one thing aching right now and it’s between her legs where Chloe’s hips are resting, though they’re hardly at rest.

Beca doesn’t know at what point they started moving together but her hips are lifting to meet Chloe’s every time Chloe’s rock forward into her.

She parts her knees further until she finally just gives in and hooks her left leg, the one not pinned against the back of the couch, around Chloe’s waist.

She hears her name on Chloe’s lips, an exhale between kisses that somehow keep getting hotter and wetter...just like she is elsewhere. Chloe’s hips shift their angle; it’s subtle but the difference is immense and the moan that escapes Beca when Chloe rocks into her in the exact right place is almost embarrassing.

She doesn’t have time for embarrassment, though. Not when Chloe pulls back from the kiss to look down at her. Her slow, steady pace doesn’t let up, though, and Beca knows she just wants to see Beca’s face while she does it. She knows because if their roles were reversed, she’d want to see Chloe’s reaction, too.

It’s intense to be watched this way. She wonders if Chloe is fully aware of just how much she’s affecting Beca, if she’s thinking about how far this could go or how quickly. If she wants it to.

The way she’s looking down at Beca, though, her eyes dark as she finally starts to adjust herself so her arms aren’t trapped, tell Beca Chloe isn’t thinking about stopping.

Beca’s fine with that.

She moves with Chloe, both of them shifting down on the couch so Beca’s neck isn’t stuck at a terrible angle and so Chloe can finally prop herself up on an elbow. She watches—and feels—Chloe’s hand ease out of her hair, fingertips drifting along Beca’s cheek and jawline to her neck. They stroke softly there, along her throat and Beca swallows. Chloe’s watching so intently, both where her fingers travel and how Beca responds to them.

She wants to ask for more but isn’t quite sure. Isn’t quite sure if this is cabin fever and a brief (it has been anything but brief) make-out session between bored, tipsy close friends. Isn’t quite sure what it will mean for them if she lets go of what little self-control she’s maintaining and rocks herself into Chloe until she comes.

She lets her own hands roam again, beyond Chloe’s back and neck and shoulders and hair to her throat, mirroring with both hands how Chloe’s fingers are touching her. Her skin is hot beneath Beca’s fingers and she can feel under her jaw the way her heart is pounding. She can feel how she swallows when Beca’s fingers find the dip between her clavicles and how her breathing speeds up after easing during their momentary break from kissing as Beca’s fingernails trace along the smooth skin along her décolletage. There’s so much of it on display.

Chloe’s touch is now following Beca’s, drawing lines and circles along the edge of her V-neck tee.

Beca gets stuck, though; Chloe’s skin feels so nice under her fingers and she’s never touched her, not like this, along the lines of her collar bones and the tendons in her neck and the slight dip that will give way to cleavage if she were to follow it. She gets stuck but Chloe doesn’t. Chloe’s touch finally breaks past the collar of Beca’s shirt to travel lower, over the thin material. It only takes a second or two before her fingers are grazing over the curve of Beca’s left breast.

Beca’s entire body tries to arch into it, a reaction that makes Chloe’s jaw drop, which is the last thing Beca sees before her eyes close when Chloe leans down to start kissing her again.

She whines a little, starting to feel desperate (an understatement) for release.

The sound seems to spur Chloe on, her kiss quickly returning to the deep, passionate exchanges they’ve been sharing. The hand at Beca’s breast gets more daring, more exploratory and Beca knows when Chloe finds its peak, not because she feels it (God, she feels it) but because Chloe’s touch slows, circling the surely visible rise.

Beca’s hands just fall away from Chloe, not because she doesn’t want to touch her but because her brain’s ability to do more than one thing at a time is being reduced. Meeting Chloe’s tongue and lips and pushing her hips into her, again and again, is about all she can manage.

Chloe must read her mini-collapse as further surrender (it was, really) because her exploratory touch, circling Beca’s nipple again and again with the edge of her fingernail, suddenly changes. Her fingers close against it and Beca’s thin bra and shirt might as well be nonexistent for as much as she feels it. Beca groans and her hips throw themselves up into Chloe with needy force and Chloe echoes her, pushing into Beca harder, her pace suddenly increasing.

It’s so difficult to breathe with Chloe’s tongue filling her mouth again and again but Beca’s ready to suffocate before she gives it up.

She also knows she’s going to come. Soon. She’s resigned herself to it and will deal with the consequences later; she feels she has a solid defense: Chloe tonguefucking her mouth the way she has been is a pretty stellar excuse.

She doesn’t know where the fuck she learned to kiss like this, but Beca is so, so grateful.

She can hear herself moaning, can hear how often it’s happening. She can hear Chloe, too, and the sound is turning Beca on almost as much as the way Chloe’s touching her.

The incessant attention to her nipple disappears and she whines in protest but all Chloe does is shush her and then kiss her more deeply. She feels Chloe’s hand on her stomach and sucks it in not out of vanity but because it almost tickles. But her hand is steady; it doesn’t linger to risk bumping into what are Beca’s few ticklish spots (Chloe knows them well). It moves confidently lower and Beca gasps when she feels her fingertips move over the waistband of her leggings because there’s only one reason Chloe’s hand would be moving in that direction.

The sound she makes when Chloe’s fingers graze between her legs, over the thin, form-fitting material of her pants, is obscene.

It makes Chloe’s mouth rip away from hers. “Fuck, Bec, you’re so wet.”

Beca hadn’t thought of that; she hadn’t thought about the fact that she was in leggings and nothing else because why did she need to be for a day of lounging around and what would happen if she ended up grinding with Chloe on the couch.

If Chloe means for her to respond she doesn’t give her enough time to do so. Her mouth is on Beca’s again to swallow Beca’s pitiful groan as fingers press down firmly against her. Now she can feel what Chloe felt, the soaked fabric slipping against her body with every lift of her hips.

As suddenly as Chloe cut her off her kiss ends again and Beca watches her lift herself a little higher; she wonders what she’s doing until she realizes Chloe’s not looking at her.

Well, not looking at her face, anyway.

Her focus now is between their bodies, specifically between Beca’s legs where her fingers are starting to rub and stroke, cutting the time Beca knows she has to wait to come in half, if not more.

She tries to say Chloe’s name but it gets caught in her throat when Chloe shifts from watching, awestruck, as her fingers touch Beca to dropping her hips to pin her hand between them and against Beca.

She moans in Beca’s ear, not quite making it back to her mouth. Beca knows her supporting arm has to be tired but Chloe not stopping is so hot and sexy. Her own arms finally work and she yanks them out from between their bodies to wrap them around Chloe, to run them up her back and into her hair to hold on.

She has to hold on because Chloe’s hips are bucking into her like she’s really fucking her (and she is really fucking her) and the urgency of her moans and gasping breaths in Beca’s ear make it register that not only is she fucking Beca now, with her hand where it is, she’s fucking herself, rutting against the back of her own hand.

It’s hard and fast now; there’s no teasing or precision touching. It’s contact and friction and neither of them need more than that.

Beca’s first to slip, the nonstop assault on her senses becoming too overwhelming. Chloe moaning in her ear on the verge of ecstasy. Chloe’s hips and Chloe’s fingers grinding and rocking against her. The now phantom memories of Chloe’s tongue twisting around Beca’s and fingertips pinching and rubbing her nipple.

She holds on, not thinking about whether or not her fingernails are scratching Chloe’s shoulders or if she’s pulling too hard on her hair, as her body rocks into an orgasm she’s been waiting to experience for ten years.

She hears Chloe and knows they’re coming together, an uncoordinated yet simultaneous release of energy and stress and tension that somehow increases in intensity as it unfurls between them until there’s what could be a sob in her ear. It’s not, though; it’s just Chloe coming down from her orgasm.

Something Beca never, ever thought she would actually bear witness to.

Chloe’s body is heavy on hers, no longer holding herself up at all but Beca doesn’t care. She just pushes Chloe’s hair out of her face and over Chloe’s shoulder so she can turn her head and put her mouth on Chloe’s heated neck, immediately sucking a mark into it. Everything feels so primal, so raw, even in the increasing afterglow but she’s spent.

She’s so, so spent.

If Chloe’s delay in moving at all, in any way other than her fingers which are still rubbing against Beca, is any indicator, she’s spent, too.

There’s a long, heavy sigh in her ear and Beca releases freshly purpled skin and feels her body fully sag into the couch, Chloe’s pleasant weight keeping her from floating away.

Chloe does start to move after a few minutes of quiet sighs and slow, sometimes chaste, sometimes sensual kisses and when she finally removes her hand its absence leaves Beca feeling cold and needy, despite what just happened.

“Bec—” Chloe starts and something about her faces tells Beca she’s about to apologize or in some way dismiss what just happened.

“That was amazing,” Beca says to interrupt whatever Chloe might have been thinking about saying.

A smile of relief breaks on Chloe’s flushed face and she drops down to kiss Beca again, hard and happy before she’s pulling away with finality. They’re a fair bit entangled and they’re both laughing by the time Chloe tiredly gets back onto her knees to fall back onto her ass at the other end of the couch.

She doesn’t offer Beca a helping hand to sit up, but Beca honestly doesn’t blame her. Chloe just did all the work; it’s the least she can do to push herself up until they’re sitting, both still red-faced and not quite breathing normally, on opposite ends of the couch.

“Just...give me a minute,” Chloe says before her head lolls back to rest on the couch and her eyes close.

Beca gives her the minute and uses it to take in her appearance: the flush of pink on her chest, the hardness of her nipples, the (Beca can’t help but look with curiosity) obvious dark patch between her legs on the gray sweatpants she’s wearing.

The need to touch—and taste—Chloe is suddenly overwhelming. She’s about to make her move when Chloe lifts her head, eyes sparkling and clear and a smile starts spreading across her features. There’s tension in her limbs and Beca wonders if Chloe is still as turned on as she is.

“Tag,” Chloe says, suddenly reaching out to slap her hand against Beca’s foot before bolting off the couch and heading for the stairs. “You’re it!”

Beca’s dumbfounded for several seconds until she bursts out laughing. It’s a different kind of release than she just experienced, one of pure joy. “I’m giving you 60 seconds!”

“I gave you 100!” echoes back to her.

“I can’t wait that long,” she says to herself. She hopes Chloe’s not actually hiding; she hopes she’s going to one of their bedrooms so they can keep doing what they’ve started.

She knows their future is unknown in many ways, what this means for their friendship, for their relationship with one another. She doesn’t know how much longer they’ll be required to spend all day, every day inside together.

But, she thinks as she finally makes it to the top of the stairs and to her room to find Chloe sitting in the middle of her bed half-naked in only a bra and panties, they have plenty of activities to pass the time.

The End

#bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect #bechloe fic #fanfic #coronavirus #yep it's a quarantine fic

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heresathreebee · 4 years

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Garrote part 12

[Starz Power Diego Jimenez X Jazmine Mann (Black!OC)]

Summary: Healy and the Jimenez’ are gearing up for war. Jazmine’s getting antsy waiting for something to go horribly wrong. Previous Masterlist Next

Rating/Warning(s): Mature (+18 or I call the police). post-coitus fluff, swearing, anxiety, time skip, canon typical violence (I think...?), all plot, gringo using google translate Spanish and half remembered high school classes (sorry in advance), mentions of grooming/pedophilia (don’t worry, Porsche’s OK)

Word count: 2.2k words

Author’s Note(s): yeah so I wrote this back in December and just didn’t have the heart to put it out. I wanted to try and finish the other chapters (thinking I’m gonna wrap up at seventeen chapters) and I couldn’t. I have a problem with finishing anything I start, it never feels strong enough. I’m gonna try not to let that stop me though, promise.

Waking up in Diego’s arms, Jazmine never expected to feel so calm. Truth be told she didn't really wake up, but drifted in and out of sweet harmonious consciousness to find Diego, whether he was cradling her or sitting up or rubbing her back. She finally managed to convince herself to get out of bed and by then it was already 2 in the afternoon. Diego had his pants and shoes back on but nothing else, so she relaxed a little.

"You need to eat," he whispered, "come on, get dressed."

Jazmine blinked slowly. "I need a shower. Maybe a wheelchair, too."

She didn't miss the proud smirk that suddenly graced his handsome features. As he put on his shirt, Jazmine glanced past him at the open door of the closet. It was empty inside save for a few hangers, but it left a bad taste in her mouth and a lump in her throat. Diego followed her line of sight and said nothing. He let her shower, never more than five feet away (which is exactly how far the shower curtain is to the bathroom door). They ate somewhere family friendly, a pancake house she barely remembered the name of. Her legs still suffered from tremors and her pelvic region ached, but they were good feelings and she tried to make them last as they put a smile on her face.

It's been about a week and Jazmine has seen neither hide nor hair of Haagen and it's starting to worry her.

The only relief she had been able to accrue these past few days had been Healy's announcement that they had made a huge connection and were in the process of setting up task forces to take Haagen down. Alicia was confident that Haagen knew nothing and was continuing on with business as usual (or so she heard through the grapevine), and even Diego seemed to be relaxed about it.

That was another thing that bothered her. Diego, relaxed. Diego doing more hands on business and clubbing at all hours of the night. He'd barely said two words to her after coming to the rescue and fucking her silly in front of Haagen.

Sitting alone in the penthouse, Jazmine scratched at every itch and tugged on every baby hair like her skin was diseased. She didn't want to go outside, she was too afraid of Haagen's next move. She had been texting her mother regularly again just so she wouldn't call and have to explain why she sounded so nervous. It would have taken LaShawn all of ten seconds to realize something was wrong: so why couldn't anybody else see it?

Maybe she was overreacting. Jazmine drew a hot bath in the jacuzzi sized tub and turned the jets on, finding bubble bath solution and a pink rubber ducky to cradle. The bathroom had a dimmer switch she turned down to near zero and let silky smooth R&B from the 90's wash her worries away. Her fingers worked to squeeze the ducky like a stress ball, and a traitorous part of her brain whispered longing thoughts.

I wish Diego was here to massage my back.

She shushed her thoughts: at least the bath is perfectly hot.

She washed her body and spent the better part of the day deep conditioning her hair and shaving her legs just for the hell of it. The music never stopped, it simply rolled from R&B to classic rock and then back again. Miguel checked in only to make sure she ate, and Jazmine managed to convince him to eat with her and play a co-op mobile game for a few hours. She plucked at the listening device in her ear for the thousandth time and decided to just call Healy.

"Hey can't talk right now," were all the words she got out of him on the second call and then an immediate hang up.

Jazmine growled and crossed her arms, suddenly reminded she was still wearing nothing but a bathrobe. She slipped into a pair of jeans and a tank top, and feeling bold, she marched up to Diego’s room and swiped a black button down that smelled like him. She tucked it unbuttoned into her pants and swanned up to the penthouse roof with a bottle of wine and one glass.

She knew she would miss this level of extravagance. Never worrying about paying for rent or for food or selling her time and labor for someone else and next to nothing pay. Jazmine wondered what Diego would say to becoming her sugar daddy after this whole human trafficking business was over, but shook her head and topped her drink off.

Probably overstayed my welcome, she thinks, that’s why Diego’s been distant lately.

Jazmine was unnaturally quiet on her end, though Healy recognized the tinkling sound of bottle to glass. Probably on her fourth drink if he was counting correctly. No matter– she was safe for now at Diego’s penthouse suite and there were more pressing matters to attend to at the moment. Brasa was leaning over each and every agent sat in the boardroom as if to intimidate them into obeying her every command. She was a good detective, really she was, she just needed to work on trusting the people who trusted her. Her partner Holbrooke was no help at all– selective mutism was a nasty habit to overcome. Brasa had not breathed a word of thanks in Healy’s direction, but he had expected that. This wasn’t about the praise– it was about justice.

When he could finally break away for coffee and a piss, he sent a text to Alicia. No doubt los hermanos Jimenez would be thrilled with the intel– but what would happen next?

The safest place for Jazmine right now is Diego’s place, he thought, but for how much longer?

An address and a transcribed photograph of the documents they came from. Healy had told them that the most likely scenario for Porsche’s whereabouts was ‘adoption’ by people who did not want any adoption documents to surface later on. The family probably has prestige, they may have lost a child recently and are looking to replace it like a goldfish and hope no one notices.

It didn’t stop Diego’s trigger finger from inching closer and closer to his gun at every small pump of the breaks.

“Tranquil, hermano,” Alicia soothed. “We’re almost there. We can kill them after we get la pequena back.”

Diego sniffed and hopped out of the car as soon as it finally parked. Alicia was right behind him, checking her peripherals on the well lit streets of this upscale neighborhood. It was them two and one guard each, a second car bearing two underlings coming in from the back door and four cars with heavily armed back up around the corner in case things went south. Brother and sister climbed the porch steps idly, slipping their guns back into their hidey spots before knocking on the front door…

“Fuck.”

Jazmine’s phone battery flashed at 3%. She didn’t remember finishing the bottle, but she did really have to pee so she stood up from the pool’s edge to relieve herself. Miguel was asleep on the white leather couches in the living room, mouth open and drooling with his gun on the table. The woman’s steps were a little unsteady and her vision came in waves, but she felt that fuzzy warm buzz and decided she had better not drive.

She shook the young man awake with a sigh. “Hey, I left something at my apartment. Can you drive me?”

Miguel pursed his lips. “I don’t think jefe would want–”

“Please,” she said, “it’s important.”

Miguel relented, swiping the keys to a Ferrari from the rack by the elevator and handed Jazmine her coat. Just a few more items she couldn't live without. The way Miguel drove meant they were there in no time at all, and every light they passed by in the dark somehow made Jazmine feel lighter, less jittery and anxious. She had Miguel drop her off by the backside of the apartment and climbed the steps alone after insisting she would only be a minute. All of her doors and windows were locked, the place looked exactly as she had left it.

“Thank god.”

She had to search for her charger, a sparkly teal thing with a cat and an alligator charm on it. She found it hiding under her bed, then found her way into the bathroom to check on her face in the mirror. Jazmine fingered the black hickeys on her neck, smiling to herself. She caught sight of something white hanging out of the trash and dug it out: her Chicago shirt. Stuffing it into her back pocket next to her phone charger, Jazmine took one last look at her apartment and blew a kiss to it.

“Bye,” she whispered, peaking into the dark and lingering on the memories she was about to leave behind forever until finally the lock clicked into place. Oh shit, this was the wrong door. Miguel was waiting out back–

Pop-pop-pop

Gunshots rang out from behind the building, the returning fire was short and stilted, overwhelmed by the repetition of an automatic. Jazmine took to the stairs at the far side of the building and ran down them wishing she was in something other than slippers. Her heart began to pound in her chest and her breath billowed in heavy clouds before disappearing. The second she stepped off of the last stair, she tripped. Her flimsy footwear slid on the thin layer of ice and she fell, her eyes and ears following the clink clink plop noise of her phone literally going down a storm drain.

She barely had time to scramble back to her feet before she heard tires come screeching around the corner down the street and she stumbled into a run.

Jazmine wasn’t sure how far she’d gone, and she can’t recall how many streets she turned on, or even if she was being chased at all. Every sound made her jump, and every car coming her way made her anxious. Her lungs burned for air as she finally collapsed against the window of a minimart. There were tears streaming down her cheeks as she pushed the door open to hide among the tiny rows of snacks and gum and cigarettes and refrigerated beverages. The store owner was wearing headphones and didn't bother looking up. Deep breath in. Exhausted, shaking breath out. Jazmine curled tightly around herself to try and calm down before her heart exploded in her chest.

Alicia and Diego have the father on his knees and bloodied. His wife and children are being held upstairs in one of the bedrooms, terrified. Diego wipes at a small spot of blood from his sister's face.

"Donde esta el bebe?," Diego said, grasping the man's ear and dragging his head back to look at him. "I won't ask you again."

"What baby?" The man coughed dryly, his eyes nearly swollen shut but still glimmering in fear. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Alicia kneeled down in her white pantsuit. "The baby you bought from Jeremy Haagen, Mr. Fletcher. A beautiful little girl with dusky hair and big brown eyes. A baby that belongs to us."

Fletcher squirms under the murderous gaze of los hermanos Jimenez but doesn’t break.

“You know, Diego,” Alicia said leaning on her brother’s shoulder, “I didn’t see a fourth bedroom.”

Diego pursed his lips. “So?”

“So the contract specified a room for our mariposa, and he already has two children. Where’s the other room?” Alicia’s heels clicked as the gear turned in Diego’s head. “I bet la senorita Fletcher might know.”

“No, please,” he begged, “leave my wife out of this– she’s got nothing to do with this!”

“So you do know what we’re talking about,” Diego’s aha motion garnered a vague threat with the point of his gun– gold plated, of course. Emeralds in the hilt this time.

“Secretly adopting a baby girl,” Alicia tsked, kneeling before Fletcher and brandishing a knife, “when you have two perfectly healthy girls of your own? Ay dios mio, what’s the matter? Three’s your lucky number, but your wife doesn’t put out anymore?”

Fletcher stumbled hard over his words and made next to no sense. One thing that did make it clear through the haze of nonsense struck a nerve with the Jimenezes: “I didn’t know she’d be that young!”

Alicia exchanged a queasy look with her brother. She had heard of it before: grooming. Usually starts when a girl is anywhere between nine and eighteen. Fletcher continued to ramble, about hiring a nanny and raising the baby anyway since Haagen didn’t do resales. He was probably just trying to get the baby off his hands…

Before Diego could pull the trigger, his phone rang. So did Alicia’s, both projecting the same number from a burner phone and three emojis to designate the caller: Healy. Alicia answered for Diego, jerking her head towards the door and mouthing, ‘I’ll take care of it from here.’ Diego reluctantly slipped outside, glaring at the nosy neighbors in the window who disappeared in a flash. He put the phone to his ear just in time to hear:

“– I need you to get to Nassau now: Jazmine’s in trouble.”

@mental-bycatch @kid-from-new-zealand @1zashreena1 @girlpornparadise @nicke0115 let me know if I missed anybody, I’m sorry it’s been so long

#Diego Jimenez #diego jimenez x oc #three bees writing #Garrote #🐝🐝🐝✒#Starz Power #angst

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ipaintwithwords · 4 years

Text

Christmas Short Story Exchange

Wolves Without Teeth

Fandoms: Life is Strange, Life is Strange 2 Characters: Sean Diaz, Lyla Park, Daniel Diaz, Chloe Price, David Madsen (mention), Brody Holloway (mention) Tags: Post-Redemption Ending, Post-Save Arcadia Bay Ending, light angst with happy ending, mentions of depression/antidepressants, reminiscing, ambiguous/open ending, POV heavy, pretty scenery and dogs and ghosts

And I run from wolves breathing heavily at my feet And I run from wolves tearing into me without teeth

♪♫♪♫♪♫

Millions of stars lit up the vast, deep indigo canvas of the night sky along the coast of Oregon. It was a quiet, peaceful night, the kind that was made for intimate strolls and heartwarming conversations and marveling at the beauty of the ocean, hand in hand, barefoot on the shore, accompanied by the light April breeze and the soft whispers of the waves. It was made for campfires and laughter, grilled fish and cold beer, and acoustic guitar covers of songs that people don’t listen to enough on Spotify, even though they really should - it was a night made for moments ephemeral and eternal at the same time, a series of overexposed polaroid images in the sand.

However, for the young man driving under the endless rows of majestic pine trees, the night was but a spectacular backdrop for his hours spent on the road. Slightly more memorable than the day before, and infinitely longer than any other day of the past week he’s spent driving, one hand on the wheel, the other one either stroking the gentle crosswind with a cigarette between his fingers or buried in the thick, brown fur of the adolescent wolfdog snoozing on the passenger’s seat, curled up like a content, well-fed little roll with her favorite blanket between her front paws.

That night, he was holding onto the wheel with both hands. Eyes fixated on the highway, his anxiety was skyrocketing in his chest, flooding the back of his mind with dark thoughts and his head with an unbearable migraine, building up slowly but steadily, creeping into his skull, even the empty - and otherwise numb - socket of his left eye. Not that he was a stranger to headaches, but unlike all his past encounters with nasty migraines, this time he had no idea what to blame: the cigarettes, the lack of sleep, all the synthetic food he shoved down his throat the past few days, his ridiculous deadline drawing near by the minute… Or perhaps the fact that for the first time in fifteen agonizingly long years, he was back on a road he never thought will see again.

The only difference was that this time, he was on his own. There was no comforting presence beside him, no hula dancer figurine on top of the dashboard, no excited chatter coming from a kid high on adrenaline on the backseat. It was just him and the shores of Oregon, his sad music and his snoring dog (who wasn’t exactly the chatty kind, which, honestly speaking, never truly bothered him; he adopted her for the very same reason) and this stubborn, intrusive, demanding migraine that seemed to have made a cozy little home for itself in his forehead like it was meant to live out the rest of its life under his skin. And somehow, it managed to grow even stronger when out of the blue, the music was interrupted by the steady, low buzzing of his phone.

All of a sudden, violent waves of frustration crashed down over him as he took a quick glance at the device’s screen. Tightening his grip on the wheel until his nails started digging irritated crescents into the faux leather, he grit his teeth while staring at his phone, its buzzing resonating in his temples as if someone was trying to drill into his brain. The buzzing lasted for a solid two minutes before the screen would finally turn dark again and the pulsating sensation in his temples quieted down a little - only giving him a few moments of calm and quiet, though, as his phone started ringing again the moment he was about to sigh in relief.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!”, he grunted loudly in anger, waking the peacefully sleeping wolfdog pup with either his hoarse voice or the annoyed dash of his hand as he reached out for his phone to pick up the incoming call and be over with it as fast as possible. He knew exactly what’s coming for him, and he was in the mood for anything but fighting with his best friend on the phone right now.

“What the fuck, man?!”, hissed a young woman on the other end of the call with a furious whisper-shout, as soon as he pushed the green button. “Are you being serious with me right now? Where the fuck are you, Sean?”, she hissed, and Sean heard a door slamming shut behind her, most likely the backyard door, to be precise, as she stormed out of the kitchen for a smoke.

“You knew I’ll be busy this weekend”, much to his surprise, he magically managed to keep his voice calm and his words collected when he answered after a few moments of hesitation. “I DMed you and I also texted the group chat yest-”

“Yeah, and I thought you’re just trying to back out of going to Walmart with us!”, his feeble attempt of coming up with explanations was met with an angry snap from the young woman. “And I actually can’t believe that we’re having this conversation? Like I can’t comprehend the fact that for whatever fucked up reason, you are actually ditching your own brother’s birthday weekend”, she scoffed, lighting up a cigarette with two impatient click-clacks of a cheap 7-Eleven lighter.

“I have a deadline, Lyla, and it seems like you’re the only person who can’t accept that”, answered Sean with a deep, resigned sigh, only trying to resist the sudden urge of smoking for a brief second before he rolled down the window and reached for his cigarette case. “I talked to Daniel about it, alright? He was the first person I called”, he murmured under his nose, shoving a crooked cigarette between his lips. “And to be honest, I still don’t understand why you guys insisted on throwing this huge ass party for him for an entire weekend... Y’all know he prefers his PS4 and pizza over twenty of us being all over him for three days, right?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was me who’s about to ruin his birthday! Fuck, man, thanks, now I can see that it was me all along”, Lyla let out a burst of dry laughter, more threatening than the sharpest blades in the world. “You are unbelievable, Sean.”

“I’m doing everyone a favor by skipping, y’know”, said Sean, sticking his hand out the window, unleashing the tiny smoke-dragons of his cigarette into the night. “‘Cause let’s be real, we both know that it’s me who’d ruin his birthday” he added with a shrug, making Lyla snort in disbelief.

“I can’t think of a single reason why his favorite person in the world would do that, so please enlighten me with your wisdom, Sean-Wise”, suddenly, her tone softened, bringing a massive lump to Sean’s throat.

“The last thing he needs right now is his useless, depressed brother”, he answered quietly, unable to resist the suffocating grip of anxiety on his neck. “And thankfully, he understands that his useless, depressed brother needs to submit an unreasonable amount of work ‘til next Wednesday, so… Yeah. We’re both doing each other a favor, to be honest.”

“Sean, I… Useless? Why would y- What do you even… Hollup for a sec” sighed Lyla, slightly frustrated, as a small voice suddenly called for her. “Yes, baby, what’s up?”, she said, words and smile warmer than the morning sun, and Sean couldn’t help but smile too when he heard her switch to Korean the next moment, most likely reaching for her daughter Hannah, and gently pushing a strand of dark, silky hair behind her ear like she always did.

“Sorry for that, Miss Thing is getting cranky because she only ate five times today”, Lyla returned to the call after a good minute, and Sean could clearly see her roll her eyes as the door shut close behind Hannah. “So where were we…”

“You were about to give me a Ted Talk on self-love because I called myself useless”, said Sean with a faint smile, before carefully flicking the cigarette butt out the window. Lyla didn’t answer immediately, at least not with words - her silence, on the other hand, was heavy with worry, a calm before the storm Sean knew too well. After all, thirty-three years of friendship teaches a thing or two about another person, especially a friendship like theirs was.

“You know, I had a feeling this is gonna happen”, when Lyla finally broke the silence, she couldn’t conceal the sad, resigned bitterness in her voice. “At least tell me where you are, man…”

“I’m in Oregon… Driving along the coast, actually”, Sean answered, giving his dog an affectionate scratch behind the ear, and making her turn her all-knowing, golden eyes from the night view on him. “Don’t worry, I’m not alone. Chestnut’s here too.”

“Dude, she didn’t even bark when she heard my voice”, said Lyla, with a very obvious and even more dramatic pout on her face. “But wait, what the fuck are you doing there? In Oregon?”, she asked, and this time, it was her confused frown that Sean could see crystal clear as if Lyla was sitting right next to her.

For a brief moment, he truly wished she was.

“I’m chasing ghosts”, when he spoke eventually, it felt as if there was someone else talking with his mouth, unseen powers forcing the air out of his lungs and his tongue and teeth to form the words that echoed for a seemingly endless moment in the car and inside Sean’s head.

And before he could even blink, the echo sunk even deeper, into the darkest pits of his scarred, hurt, lonely soul, as he found himself staring at the unmistakable silhouette of Arcadia Bay in the distance after a slight turn in the road.

He spent the night at Otter Point, in his car, right next to the very same visitors plaque he broke down at, for the first time since fleeing Seattle on that nightmarish afternoon all those years ago, to a man he just met - a man who changed everything, although fifteen years later, Sean wasn’t sure anymore that it was for the better. He wasn’t sure whether he’d still be alive at all if it wasn’t for Brody and his golden heart that night, but he was certain of one thing: that compared to all the horrible things that happened to him, to them, death would’ve been but a merciful release.

Death didn’t come for them, however, at least not in its form that’s known to most people. Instead of taking them, it decided to befriend the Wolf Brothers and tag along on their journey, from the suburbs of Seattle to the iron gates of the Mexican border - and after that, the lifeless, ashen grey walls of a suffocatingly small prison cell in Washington. It was there that night too, in Sean’s car, a worn, cherry-red station wagon just like Brody’s, and inside his head, too, buried deep under the quiet, unsteady chaos of his thoughts. It was in every breath he took, every pill he swallowed, every minute he spent awake wondering what is he even doing, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing that could make it go away, that could make death change it’s stubborn mind and to leave Sean Diaz alone, because, throughout the years, it simply grew too fond of him.

And with time, Sean just… Accepted it. He accepted being handpicked by death itself and stopped fighting it because no matter how hard he tried to avoid it, to get rid of it, to pretend that everything was fine, nothing helped; nothing but the acceptance and the handfuls of numbing bitterness he consumed at least two yellow tubes of each month for the past, God knows how many years. Of course, things could’ve been a lot worse, and Sean was fully aware of that - he knew that he was extremely privileged for being able to settle back into society relatively easily after being released from his sentence of nearly two decades spent in one of the country’s biggest federal prisons.

Frankly speaking, it wasn’t about settling back into society as much as it was about doing something he secretly always dreamed of, even before the story of the Wolf Brothers began on that chilly Friday afternoon, in a completely ordinary, perfectly average October of a past, long-lost life. In fact, if someone told sixteen-year-old Sean that everything that’s about to happen to him will eventually lead to a new life in which he is a comic book artist who gets paid for drawing the weird shit in his head, sixteen-year-old Sean would’ve probably laughed until his stomach hurt and happy tears started rolling down his cheek.

And yet, there he was that morning, on top of a hill above the Oregon coast, moderately enjoying his cheap instant coffee in the back of his station wagon (and after a glance at his peaky-faced reflection in the mirror, extremely judging his lack of self-discipline regarding taking care of his beard) while waiting for his tablet to charge fully so he can proceed with the next strips for the fifth chapter of The Adventures of the Pack. Chestnut was running around in excited circles, chasing grasshoppers and butterflies and occasionally, her tail, not particularly minding either her owner or the breathtaking view of the coast, and along with it, the quiet town of Arcadia Bay.

At first, he didn’t even think of making a stop at a seemingly insignificant place like Otter Point on his not-so-spontaneous journey - for some much-needed inspiration or for bittersweet reminiscence, he wasn’t entirely sure anymore -, but while going through dozens of maps and routes and painful memories on a sleepless night before his trip, he stumbled upon a picture Daniel sent him for one of his birthdays spent in prison. A picture from Away, to be precise, of a cozy little bonfire and four people with marshmallow sticks in their hands and tipsy smiles on their faces - a picture that kept him up awake for the whole night, with tears stuck halfway in his throat, desperately trying to fight their way through the walls Sean has built around himself. And the moment he saw David in the picture, he decided that after all the phone calls and visits and almost fatherly check-ins from the man throughout the past fifteen years, the least he can do is stopping in David’s hometown for a quick page or two on his way down South.

“Man, it must be tough being you”, Sean chuckled as he put his empty mug on the small writing desk in the corner of his on-the-go bedroom, looking at Chestnut playing in the dry dirt alongside the road with a wide, amused smile on his face. “Careful, though… I’d rather not break my neck trying to rescue you if you fall down” he added, climbing out of the back of his car with nimble reflexes, the sudden movement answered with excited bark coming from the wolfdog pup.

“Would you look at that”, said Sean with an impressed little snort, walking up to the fence and bending over to rest his arms on it, eyes roaming the endless, unbelievably blue ocean and the gentle waves washing up against the pale sands of Arcadia Bay’s shores. “Can’t decide if it’s beautiful or the most boring shit I’ve ever seen, to be honest… What d’ya think, huh?”, he raised his eyebrows, peeking down at Chestnut yelping next to him, and giving her a loving scratch behind the ears. “Come, check this out”, he beckoned to the visitors plaque next to them with his chin, patting Chestnut’s side gently as he stepped up to the laminated board, full of colorful images of the local wildlife and the town’s various attractions.

“Yeah? That’s where you wanna go?”, he laughed, as Chestnut suddenly stood up on her rear legs, front paws propped against the plaque, curious golden eyes fixated on the picture of Arcadia Bay’s imposing lighthouse. “Y’know what, why the fuck not, we got all the time in the world… At least ‘til next Wednesday'' Sean sighed, looking up from the slightly faded photograph to the actual lighthouse in the distance, peeking out from countless majestic pine trees, its bright, white light rotating with a slow and steady speed on the opposite end of the bay on top of a cliff.

There was something strange, something unsettling about the tall, robust tower that Sean couldn’t exactly put his finger on. He found himself staring at the lighthouse as if it held all the secrets, all the answers to all the questions he’s been searching for all his life - he couldn’t move, he couldn’t blink, he couldn’t even catch his breath for what felt like an eternity, even though it was but a mere moment. As if something was calling him, an invisible, eerie force locking his eyes on the lighthouse, Sean just stood there petrified, and if it wasn’t for Chestnut and her eager little woof startling him back to reality, he probably would’ve stayed there like that until sunset.

“Yeah, why the fuck not”, he murmured under his nose, shaking his head like he just woke from a weird dream as he turned away from Arcadia Bay and walked up to his car, trying to ignore the uncanny tingling in the back of his head - and the unmistakable feeling of being watched by a pair of all-seeing, otherworldly eyes.

It took surprisingly long to get to the other side of the bay from Otter Point. By the time Sean reached the lighthouse, the sun was high in the spotless blue sky, radiating its warm light so dazzlingly he had to shield his eyes with his hand as he exited the car. He parked the station wagon in a small clearing surrounded by fragrant, sky-high pine trees, at the bottom of a meandrous set of wooden stairs half-eaten by the soil, and began his short hike up to the lighthouse with Chestnut trotting by his side. The forest around them was peaceful and bustling with cheerful and welcoming Spring life; they saw busy bees and chirping birds and dancing butterflies everywhere as they made their way uphill, following the glimmering sunspots on the ground.

“Alright, same rules apply, okay? No running along the edge, it’s rocky down there”, said Sean when they reached the top of the stairs, grabbing Chestnut’s collar the very last minute before the pup could just storm off to explore the uncharted territory. “Stay… Staaay…”, he raised his eyebrows as the pup looked up at him with giant eyes full of excited sparkles, wagging her tail like the clearing in front of her was the last one on Earth to roam. “Good girl. Run along now, but carefully, please”, he said after a moment or two, as he let go of Chestnut, watching her dart off as a fired arrow with a proud, fatherly smile on his face before following the pup to the clearing.

The lighthouse stood tall on the edge of the cliff, watching over Arcadia Bay like a robust, all-seeing guardian. Seeing the tower up close, Sean felt the same magnetic energy that practically hypnotized him from all the way across the bay, only this time, he felt it ten folds stronger, as he stood there and stared at the lighthouse, tilting his head back as much as he could to take in the breathtaking sight in all its mesmerizing entirety. It felt like he arrived in another dimension where time didn’t work as it did on his own; as if a heavy, velvety curtain fell on the world, closing around the cliff and creating an odd, languid void where the pace of time just wasn’t the same. It was quiet, yes, peaceful, even, but at the same time, the air was strangely disturbed, unsettling and mysterious - and eerily inviting.

After what felt like half a lifetime of staring at the lighthouse, Sean noticed a worn bench on the edge of the cliff. He watched Chestnut sweep across the clearing, very much occupied with chasing something that looked like an azure-blue butterfly at first glance, before walking up to the bench and sitting down on it, turning his gaze towards the magnificent view of the bay below him as he reached for his cigarette case in his pocket. With the first puff of bitter smoke, he closed his eyes, and for a while, he just listened to the waves crashing against the rocks at the bottom of the cliff and the squawking of a few stray seagulls circling around the lantern room, before bringing himself to unzip his backpack and pull out his tablet and sketchbook from the messy depths of it.

He only hesitated for a brief moment before he put the tablet back in his bag, and along with it, his deadlines and professional responsibilities, settling with his trusted sketchbook instead. He preferred drawing on actual paper with an actual pen anyway, and he felt like procrastinating a little before letting his work swallow him in one bite. Flipping through dozens of pages of unfinished drawings until he finally reached a blank page, Sean started sketching Arcadia Bay with strainless ease, his eye constantly moving back and forth between the sketchbook and the view until the chaos of thin, black lines started to come together and he didn’t have to look anymore.

And this is when the time truly stopped around him, as it always did when Sean took the pen. It was just him and his vision of the world under the sun, and of course, Chestnut running around the clearing, her lanky, brown form always somewhere in the corner of his eye.

“You’re really pressed about this butterfly, aren’t you”, he chuckled as Chestnut ran across his feet relentlessly, making Sean look up from the content little wolf he’s been sketching for a while without even realizing that he started adding it to the drawing. He didn’t even notice anymore, since this was the case with many, if not most of his drawings - as if he was physically incapable of finishing a drawing without wolves in it, or for that matter, drawing for someone who wasn’t his brother.

“I mean, it’s a pretty fucking stunning butterfly if you ask me”, answered a mischievous voice beside him, completely out of the blue, startling Sean so unexpectedly that he almost fell off the bench.

“De puta madr-!!”, he exclaimed in fright as he turned his head, and the next moment, he found himself staring at a young, slim girl, leaning against the crooked fence on the edge of the cliff. “I mean, ugh Jesus. Sorry, I didn’t see you there” he added quickly, clearing his throat as he looked the girl up and down, wondering how long has it been since she got there - and most importantly, how in the world didn’t he notice her when she arrived.

“It’s kinda rare that anyone does, to be honest” shrugged the girl, stepping away from the fence, piercing blue eyes shifting from Sean’s colorless face to the sketchbook in his lap. She was tall and slender, wearing ripped jeans with a leather jacket and a black beanie, electric blue hair framing her narrow, elfish face. She looked like she was in her late teens, early twenties, maybe, and even though Sean was certain he’s never seen her before, somehow it felt like he’s known the girl for his entire life. “What are you drawing? Can I see?”

“Sure, take a look” he said, scooting over a little so the girl could sit next to her. “It’s a… I don’t even know what, that started off as a landscape sketch” he explained, scratching the inner corner of his empty eye socket and suddenly wishing he put on his eyepatch before coming up to the lighthouse. The girl, however, was way too invested in his sketchbook to even notice that there was something unusual about his appearance, and even if she did, she didn’t seem to be taken aback by it - or at least she didn’t feel the urge to stare, unlike most people Sean has met throughout his life.

“This is really cool, dude” the girl said after a while, looking up at him with a wide, impressed grin before turning her gaze back to Sean’s drawing. “Are you like, an artist or something?”

“Artist is an overstatement but yeah, I draw comics for a living” Sean answered, reaching out for Chestnut when he noticed the pup is running towards him. “This one isn’t for work though. It’s a… Gift. For my brother”, he added, his smile suddenly fading with the words, and not returning even when Chestnut wriggled her way in between his legs and placed her head in his lap, staring up at him with giant puppy eyes.

“Something gives me the impression that he’s the small one”, the girl chuckled, pointing at the younger wolf on Sean’s drawing, chasing a butterfly on the edge of the cliffside looking over Arcadia Bay, next to his bigger, scruffier, one-eyed brother, relaxing under a pine tree.

“I have no idea what makes you say that” said Sean with a faint smile on his face, gently fondling Chestnut’s head in his lap. “The older I get, the more it feels like it’s the other way around, to be honest”, he sighed quietly, feeling his entire chest harden all of a sudden as he took a glance at his sketchbook between the long nails of the strange girl next to her.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” asked the girl bluntly the next moment, carefully closing Sean’s sketchbook and putting it between them on the bench. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in Arcadia Bay before, and that’s pretty shocking considering that we’re talking about a town of 200 people where nothing ever happens…”

“Yeah, I’m just traveling. Thought I’d drive through town and check out the view from here” Sean answered, and as he pulled out another cigarette from his pocket, he couldn’t help but notice the sudden sparks of longing in the girl’s eyes. “You want one?”

“Not gonna lie, I could kill for a smoke… But no thanks. I… Can’t”, the girl gulped, watching with eager eyes as Sean reluctantly put the cigarette in his mouth. “Oh, no, it’s okay, I don’t mind. The smell’s gonna do the trick” she said, exhaling the smoke of the first huff with a strange, almost euphoric smile as Sean lit his cigarette at last.

“Oh man… You got some superior shit right there” she said, her smile slowly growing into a content, wide grin. “But anyway… As much as Arcadia Bay is the most boring shithole in the whole wide world, I hope your trip was worth it in the end.”

“Sounds like you lived here for a while, huh?”, Sean asked, eyebrows raised, to which the girl let out a sarcastic snort. “Oof. That bad?”

“There are no words to describe just how bad, my dude” the girl answered, shaking her head and wrapping her arms around her long legs pulled up to her chest. “I’ve been stuck here my whole fucking life. Wanted to leave since I was fourteen” she continued, the playful cheer suddenly leaving her voice and leaving behind gloomy shadows on her face. “Should’ve gotten the fuck outta here the first chance I got”, she said sourly, planting her chin between her knees and staring blankly in the distance, to a faraway place Sean couldn’t follow her to - and even if he could, he wouldn’t want to.

“So why didn’t you?”, Sean blurted out before thinking twice, but before he could even think of a way to apologize for possibly having crossed a line, the girl laughed out loud and dry.

“Have a wild guess, dude. ‘Cause of love, of course”, she snorted again, only this time, sarcasm was replaced with something much darker in her tone. “I was just waiting for the right time y’know. Back then, I had no idea that no such thing exists. Not for anything, not for anyone. There is just you and time, and time is nothing but a massive fucking trap, waiting for you to get stuck in it” she said, eyes darker than the coldest nights of winter. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to explode like that.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize for anything”, Sean shook his head, placing his burnt-out cigarette butt under the bench next to the previous one. “I’m just not sure I get what you mean.”

“No worries, I wouldn’t expect you to get it anyway” the girl shrugged, and the next moment, she turned her gaze to Sean, all-seeing blue eyes staring right into his soul. “You know, people hardly ever come to the lighthouse anymore, except when they should be somewhere else. And even if they come, they barely notice me. It’s nice that you did. And that you listened, too. I’m not sure where you’re supposed to be now, but I’m glad you’re here” she smiled, patting Sean’s hand with a surprisingly cold palm briefly, retreating almost immediately as he shuddered next to her.

“Yeah, I’m glad I took a little detour too” he smiled back at the girl before his glance wandered off to his sketchbook lying between them on the bench. “But I think I should get going now. I’d love to stay and chat, but… I’m ridiculously late already”, he added, a concerned frown taking over the upper half of his face, and a bewildered grin the lower, as somehow, at that moment, he realized there’s a chance that perhaps he has given into the nonsense of his own depression slightly more than he should have in the first place.

“Yeah, you probably are”, said the girl with a playful wink, standing up from the bench and stretching her long arms above her head. “Man, what a spectacular fucking afternoon. I mean, look at the Sun. Such a radiant bitch boss, for real”, she declared lovingly, making Sean laugh out loud for the first time in the past few days, or even weeks, maybe.

“Need a lift?”, Sean asked the girl as they turned their backs on the lighthouse, and started walking towards the staircase leading to the small clearing at the bottom of the cliff.

“Nah, thanks, but I’m not done here yet”, the girl said, shoving both her hands in the pockets of her skinny jeans. “Got some wandering to do, y’know… Contemplating the beauty of Spring and all” she looked at him with a somewhat shy smile, and Sean decided not to risk crossing any more lines with any more questions.

“I guess this is where we part ways then” he nodded his head when they reached his station wagon, waiting patiently next to the tourist map of the cliff. “Enjoy contemplating the beauty of Spring, I guess?”, he smiled at the girl, opening the door of the passenger’s seat for Chestnut.

“Yeah, thanks, man. You take care too, okay?” answered the girl, and the next moment, before Sean could say anything, her eyes suddenly widened. “And don’t forget to sketch up a cool portrait of me or something if you got the time, will you?”

“Stop reading my mind, a’ight?” Sean laughed, waving at the girl before sitting in his car, a sudden burst of energy washing over him as the door closed behind him. The urge to drive as fast as he just can was stronger than he’s ever felt it before, but somehow, he managed to control it, closing his eyes and leaning back on his seat for a long, silent moment before reaching for his phone. Swiping away dozens of notifications, he then opened his contacts and pressed call on the first name on top of the list - the only number he’s ever called, really.

The ringing stopped right after he pressed his phone between his ear and shoulder, and turned the car key under the steering wheel.

“Hey enano. I’m on my way.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Hey! Thank you for reading! ❤

This short story is my contribution to a Christmas Short Story Exchange we did with my best friends. (It is also my first ever fanfiction in English!) I was writing for one of my best friends who got me into Life is Strange years ago, so when we pulled each other’s names and I found out I’m writing for her, I immediately knew that I’ll work with the Diaz brothers and Chloe.

2020 Christmas Short Story Exchange Word count: 5353 | Written December 22nd-27th. I’m on AO3 now! Head over for more fanfictions. ❤

#fanfiction #Life is Strange #Life is Strange 2 #Sean Diaz #Daniel Diaz #Lyla Park #Chloe Price #Post-Redemption Ending #Post-Save Arcadia Bay Ending #under 10k #story #writing #writers on tumblr #short story #fan fiction #fanfic #light angst

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Galactica, Chapter 18 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Hieeee babies! We are so excited to share this very dramatic chapter with you! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Monday morning madness when Violet discovered that Courtney screwed up the Fashion Week confirmations.

This Chapter: Courtney faces the music, we meet a very determined reporter, and Violet loses her shit.

***

“Hey gorgeous! To what do we owe the honor of this visit?” Alaska asked cheerfully.

Courtney stepped forward, into Alaska’s office. Even the charming decor, which usually filled Courtney with happiness, did nothing to alleviate the guilt that was pressing down on her lungs.

“I have to tell you something.”

“Shit, sounds serious,” Alaska said. “Okay, have a seat.”

Courtney sat, biting her trembling lip and taking in a shaky, shallow breath.

“They didn’t send you down here to fire me, did they?” Alaska giggled, then realized that Courtney wasn’t laughing along and grew slightly more somber, folding her hands. “What’s wrong, honey?”

She was just so nice, and it made Courtney hate herself even more.

“I...really messed up.”

“How so?” Alaska looked genuinely concerned, which only made Courtney feel worse.

“Um…” There was no way around it except biting the bullet. “I was handling the Fashion Week confirmations, but…” Courtney took a deep breath. “I missed some of the tabs on the spreadsheet, and so I didn’t reach out to people until this morning and some of them have taken other jobs.”

“You ‘missed tabs’?” Alaska repeated, her voice filled with disbelief.

“Yeah, I just...I didn’t see that there was more than one, so-”

Alaska sighed heavily, letting out a small, aggravated sound, before asking, “So then...okay, how bad is it?”

“Um…”

“How many people are unavailable, Courtney?”

Courtney handed over the pages in her hands, unable to look Alaska in the eye. She just couldn’t face the disappointment and anger that she knew would be on her face right now. She pressed her lips together, still trying to hold back the flood of tears, cheeks burning hot with shame, as Alaska looked over the lists.

“Jesus christ…” she muttered, then picked up the phone. “Kim? Hi, it’s me. Sooooo, there was a bit of a snafu with some of the Fashion Week staff and we need to pull names for alternates...Uh huh...Probably at least 15—...I know, I know. I’m sorry, this is...Yeah, you know what? Get me some recommendations from Yara Sofia, and I’ll see who’s working some of the shows 2 days before...Yeah, let’s make some calls and then reconvene in 30...Okay...Yeah, I get it, I’m sorry...Bye.”

“I’m so sorry, Alaska,” Courtney said. “I don’t know how I could have been so careless. But...please just tell me what I can do to help you guys-”

“I think you’ve done enough. You should go.”

Courtney nodded, swallowing down the lump in her throat and standing up. Telling herself that she just had to get to the bathroom before letting any tears fall.

Without another word, she turned and ran, racing blindly for the nearest restroom, where she locked herself into a stall and finally let herself fall apart, crying like the useless baby that she was. What was she doing in this job? Who in their right mind thought it was a good idea to trust her with so many important tasks for such a huge company? How come, no matter how hard she tried, she was just never able to stay on top of it all?

A few minutes later, she heard the door open and heels click softly as they walked towards her.

She tried to get ahold of herself, especially once she saw the houndstooth pumps under the stall door, but it was no use.

“Courtney.”

“Y-yes?”

“This sucks. Okay? And it’s gonna be a huge headache to fix, and just something we really didn’t need today on top of everything else we’re dealing with—”

“I know,” Courtney said, breath hitching.

“—but...we’ll manage. Okay? So stop beating yourself up, and just do better in the future. I know you can.” Alaska paused before adding, “You’re better than this one mistake.”

Something about her kindness, even after all that, made Courtney lose it even more. A sob escaped her chest, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Enough of this, okay?” Alaska said. “Take a minute, then wash your face and come back to my office. I have a job for you.”

***

Courtney knocked tentatively on Alaska’s open door. She’d managed to pull herself together, and though everything in head was screaming to turn and run--from this company, from this job, from the silly dreams that kept her in this country--she’d forced herself to return and face the music.

“Sit.” Alaska pointed to a spot on the sofa, where a phone and a blank notepad were lined up on the coffee table. “Violet said that we could borrow you for the afternoon, so you can help us get out of this mess. I’ve emailed you the contact info for a bunch of makeup artists and hairstylists. You need to find out their availability, and if they have recommendations. If they’re free, tell them we’ll return with confirmation and a deal memo by the end of the day.”

Courtney nodded, sitting down and eagerly getting to work, relieved that she could have a small part of the solution.

“And Courtney…”

“Yes?” Courtney looked back up at her.

“Everyone makes mistakes.”

“Not Violet,” Courtney muttered, almost as a reflex, and Alaska burst out laughing.

“Are you kidding? Violet’s been here for over a year now, but when she first got the job, that office was a mess. Everyonemakes mistakes. Trust me. The real test is what you do afterwards.”

“Thanks, Alaska,” said Courtney, looking up at her with a smile for the first time all day.

“No problem. Now get to work!”

Courtney grinned, lifting the receiver and dialing the first number on her list. It took them almost 4 hours (and a bribe from Kim’s favorite sushi place to keep everyone working through lunch), but they eventually found people for all of the positions. When they finally finished, Courtney headed back upstairs to print out all the signed deal memos and update the spreadsheet with their new staff.

Violet was gone, having accompanied Fame to a meeting at Saks, but she’d left something wonderful behind on Courtney’s desk—not one, but two Fashion Week party invitations, with a yellow Post-It note with the word “sorry” written on it.

Courtney picked up her phone, sending a text to Violet with just the word ‘thanks.’

***

Willam hated his boss.

He hadn’t always. When he first got the job at OK!, Detox had been almost like a hero to him. But as the months wore on, and story after story got tossed or ripped to shreds or cut down to a two-line caption for some stupid photo collage, the resentment had built up to the point where he felt physical anger every time he saw Detox, or his stupid face, or his hideous yellow hair.

It just wasn’t fair. Willam knew that he was a more talented reporter, and a smarter person, than anyone else on staff. But in the meeting today, Rhea’s idiotic idea about a spread on celebrity foodstagrams had gotten praise, whereas he’d gotten chewed out, treated like garbage, all for pursuing a story that Detox failed to understand. Or worse, was actively trying to cover up.

“Hey bro. You alright?” Rhea asked, poking her head in the door.

“No. And fuck off,” Willam spat, turning to his computer.

“Ooh, someone’s maaad…” Rhea didn’t take the hint at all, slipping into the office and shutting the door behind her.

“I mean it, Rhea, get the fuck out of here.”

“Awww, it’s okay. I can handle your wittle tantrum, baby,” she said mockingly. “You need a snacky? Juice box? A wittle baby nappy?”

She reached forward to tousle his hair, and he pushed her away, eyes blazing with anger.

“This is bullshit and you know it!” he exclaimed.

“Bro, it’s not that big of a deal. Just drop it and find a different story to work on.” Rhea yawned, examining her nails.

“But I’m finally getting somewhere!”

“Are you? Because you said you’d hit a dead end with that sexy lesbian-”

“Sure. Pearl was a dead end. But-”

“Tragic,” Rhea clucked. “I could have made magic with her…” She punctuated her statement with an extremely lewd tongue gesture.

“Gross. And fine, yes, she didn’t give me anything, but-”

“And Detox literally told you 5 times that there’s no story there.”

“Exactly, Rhea! So what’s he trying to cover up? He obviously didn’t like that I was getting too close to something big. You know he’s friends with her.”

“Sure...but even if you’re right, then what?” Rhea said. “Say you find some crazy dirt, you really think he’ll publish it?”

“I think that if I find some crazy dirt, Detox fucking Sanderson won’t matter. I’ll be able to sell the story anywhere.”

Rhea chuckled, shaking her head.

“Alright, but you haven’t found anything yet. So what’s your next move, champ? Because so far you’ve got nothing.”

“I got a new mark…” He pulled up a folder of photos on his computer. “Look.”

Rhea looked, head tilted, a puzzled expression on her face.

“These are just pictures of Fame. What am I looking at? You have lost it, bro”

“Look closer. See the chick who’s behind her in every photo?” Willam zoomed in on a striking but clearly camera-shy brunette.

“Okay...her assistant? And?”

“Exactly. And assistants know all their boss’s dirt. But it’s not her I’m after.” Willam clicked through a few more photos, finally finding the one he was looking for. “Bingo.”

In this picture, the brunette was nowhere to be found, but an adorable, bewildered looking blonde was standing behind Fame in a pretty little mint green dress, bogged down with bags.

“A different assistant. Hashtag who cares?”

“A new assistant, Rhea. And new means vulnerable. Trust me...that girl? Is my ticket to aaalllll the dirt.”

***

Pearl opened the door to Laganja’s office, her hands filled with boxes upon boxes of invitations to Fashion Week shows and parties.

Fashion Week was a beast, Fashion Month was a monster. Fame was traveling to London as soon as New York was over, Milan and then Paris following, the prep work to get all of that ready always a struggle. Her assistants bore the brunt of it, Fame’s expensive taste and particular likes and dislikes not changing just because she was on another continent.

Pearl however, had a job to do too. As boss in the social media department, it was Pearl’s job to decide which shows, parties and events would be worth covering for their social media, and what different employees of Galactica should show up to, to best feature and nourish their brand in all four cities.

“Ready to crunch down?”

“I was born ready, mama.”

***

“I have Fame for Raja,” Violet said into the phone, her finger was on the button, ready to patch the call through.

“Oh, sorry. Raja’s in the conference room!” Ivy was always so cheerful, and for the hundredth time Violet wondered how she did it. “She’s working on the model castings. Should I interrupt?”

Violet bit her lip. Fame hated when she was bogged down by unimportant details, but she hated it even more when decisions were made without her.

“Hang on.” Violet clicked back over to Fame. “Raja is working on model casting in the conference room. Should I interrupt?”

“Where is my fruit salad?”

“On it’s way Miss.” Violet glanced at Courtney’s empty seat, checking her watch. She’d never understand how Courtney could be so slow at everything she did.

“Well hurry up.” Fame hung up, and the line went dead. Violet quickly pressed back to her call with Ivy, wondering to herself if she should text Courtney to speed it along with the food. Not that it would do any good. The last time she sent that message, she got a glib response along the lines of ‘I’ll tell them to chop faster.’

“No need to interru-”

“Violet.” The door to the office opened, and Fame sailed out, snapping her fingers. “Come.”

Violet hung up right away, knowing that Ivy would understand as she grabbed her notebook and phone. By the time she caught up, Miss Fame was already halfway to the conference room.

Shit. She really should have predicted this.

Fame wanted to be involved, no decision too small if it’s subject caught her attention.

Violet tried to text Courtney, a quick shoe emoji to Ivy telling her they were on their way, as she hurried along, making sure the clack of her heels matched Fame’s perfectly so her boss wouldn’t get annoyed at the dual sounds.

As they walked past the glass wall in the conference room, Violet glanced inside.

Raja was sitting at the table. She was wearing a purple silk shirt, heavy gold decorating her ears, fingers and neck, her hair collected in a high ponytail. Trixie was there too, his sweatshirt of the day a bubblegum pink number.

The table was filled with black portfolio folders, and Violet recognized about fifty model cards that were spread out amongst the polaroids of their finished looks.

Violet was just about to get in front of Fame, so she could hold the conference room door open, when she felt her stomach drop.

Right there, at the opposite end of the table, was Sutan.

He was stunning in burgundy, his entire attention focused on his sister as he was talking to her, Raja laughing at something he said.

Sutan hadn’t spotted her yet, but Violet wanted to cry. There was no way she could hide, nowhere to escape to, the other without a doubt recognizing her the minute she stepped inside, and then it’d all be over.

Violet could feel her throat close up, panic clawing at her chest.

“Miss-”

Fame turned to look at her, Violet not even recognizing that she was the one who had called for her boss’s attention.

“I-” Violet was blank. Completely blank.

“I don’t have all day, Violet.”

“I’m going to go get your food.”

“Fine.”

Violet had no idea where it had come from, but Fame turned away from her, clearly dismissing her and blessedly leaving her outside of the conference room.

“Tantan! Were you really going to come by without saying hi-”

The door to the conference room closed, cutting the sound of Fame’s voice off, and Violet did the only thing she could think of.

She ran.

Slamming the door to the office closed helped a little, but her heart was still in her throat. She checked her hair and makeup in her black computer screen, yanking off her ID card and smoothing down her dress over and over again as she walked in a small circle, her heart hammering in her chest.

“Violet?”

Courtney came in through the door, the blonde holding the promised fruit salad in her hand, and for the first time, Violet felt relief course through her body at the sight of her.

“Are you okay?” Courtney asked.

Violet was utterly screwed, but maybe, just maybe, she would be able to pull off the impossible.

All she needed was for Courtney to follow her instructions perfectly.

“Fame is in the conference room for a meeting.”

“So why aren’t you there? Is everything alright?” Courtney’s brow furrowed.

It was a fair question, but it was also a fair question Violet wasn’t going to answer.

“I need you to bring her the food, and take notes.”

“What? Are you sick?”

Violet had started to trust Courtney more and more, but she still hadn’t allowed her to even attempt to take down Fame’s rapid fire orders during meetings, forgetting something at one of those a fatal mistake.

“Go. Now. Please.”

Courtney looked at her like she was insane, but she quickly plated the fruit, grabbed a roll of silverware, her notebook and phone, and hurried to the conference room.

***

Courtney entered the conference room, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible as she set Fame’s bowl of fruit down in front of her, along with the wrapped silverware. She opened her notebook, trying to find a place to stand where she wouldn’t be in the way.

Should she sit? She’d never been present in this room for a meeting where she had nothing to do but listen. It seemed inappropriate somehow to sit down beside Fame at the table, but also weird to be standing behind her, especially since the table was mostly empty.

Courtney vaguely remembered seeing assistants stand along the wall, so she did just that.

Everyone around the table was talking animatedly, Raja and Fame so firm in their opinions it almost sounded like they were fighting, but Courtney couldn’t focus on them or what they were saying.

All she could think about was Violet.

Courtney had never seen her coworker so visibly flustered.

Eyes wild, cheeks red, voice cracking.

She had looked like she was in genuine distress, and something told her that she should just forget about this impromptu meeting and go back to check on Violet.

After all, Fame could easily call her back if she needed something, right?

On the other hand, Violet had ordered her in no uncertain terms to stay with Fame, and there was a chance that whatever was upsetting her would be worse if she had the added stress of being worried about her boss. So Courtney supposed that she should just stay and do what she was told. She tried to follow the conversation about models, taking what notes she could manage. The good news was, nobody seemed to notice or care that she was there, so she assumed that her position near the door, back pressed against the wall, had been the right move.

“You’re blind.”

“It’s an opinion.”

“Trixie, not now darling. Why are all of these- Sutan where is that model I like?”

“I’m going to need a bit more information to go on if you want my help.”

“Who was that model from that latest Vogue?” Fame asked, waving her hand in the air. “The one on my desk with the red?” When her boss tossed a questioning look over her shoulder, Courtney realized that this question must be directed at her.

““I-I’m not sure, Miss?” Was this the sort of thing Violet got asked and was expected to answer? “Would you like me to go get-”

“Ugh,” Fame let out an annoyed scoff, and seemed to only now realize that Courtney was the one who was there. “Where’s Violet?”

“She’s taking care of something in the office,” Courtney said quickly, not really lying through her teeth, though the thing Violet was taking care of most of all was that she looked like she had seen a ghost.

“Go tell her that if she enjoys her job,” Fame said slowly, “she’ll get back here immediately.”

Courtney hesitated for a split second before Fame snapped her fingers, adding, “Now!”

“Yes, Miss!” Courtney said, rushing from the room.

***

Violet was trying desperately to stay calm. She was pacing the office, her brain working in overdrive, her fingers tugging at her skirt.

Violet was no stranger to digging her own grave, but this was an especially deep one, and she wasn’t sure if she could get out.

Under normal circumstances, Violet would run away. She’d burn the bridge, never look back, and walk away from her mistake, but she didn’t want to walk away from Sutan.

She hadn’t lied to him, not exactly, but she still wanted to cry.

Sutan was everything she could ask for, not because he earned more money a month than Violet would in a year, even as a designer, not because of his connections and how he seemed to know everyone who was anything.

No. So far, Sutan had been perfect because of how he acted. He was attentive and kind, respecting Violet’s boundaries without any kind of fight. It felt like he was interested in what she was saying, his eyes lighting up in delight when she shared her opinion.

Violet had no idea why he seemed to like her so much, why he chose to spend time with her and he could have anyone he pointed at, pretty girl after pretty girl probably standing in line to hang on his arm, but somehow, he had chosen her.

There was no way, however, no way at all, that he’d want to continue that when he found out who she really was.

When he saw that she was nothing more than an assistant, who couldn’t even do her job right.

“Um…”

Violet turned around to see Courtney in the doorway.

“I’m really sorry, Violet, but Miss Fame asked for you.”

That was it then. Violet was dead. Her plan had failed, and she had to face the music. She gathered her things, nausea rumbling in her stomach.

“I can tell her you’re sick.”

Violet looked over her shoulder at Courtney who was still standing by the door, a lock of blonde hair twisted around her finger, her lip between her teeth.

“Whatever you want,” she added.

Courtney was a ridiculously good friend, and Violet snorted, the harsh sound betraying how utterly fucked she felt.

“She asked something about a model in the Vogue on her desk, so I can just go get-”

“Jourdan Dunn?” Violet had no idea why Courtney didn’t know that, Fame actually mentioning the model by name one day when Violet had brought her a coffee.

“Great!” Courtney scribbled the name down. “If you need to go, like to the doctor or something, you should go. I’ll message you if anything comes up, or leave you alone completely if that’s what you need, just tell me-”

Violet was pretty sure Courtney had no idea what she had just offered, the blonde in no way ready to run the office on her own.

“No.”

Violet could feel green eyes on her, Courtney watching her every move.

“I’ll go.”

Violet took a deep breath, grabbed her things from the desk and said a slight prayer before she made her way to the conference room, already mourning her lost relationship with Sutan as she closed the door behind her.

***

Sutan was drumming his fingers against the table, a half finished bottle of pellegrino in front of him. He had perked up immediately when Fame had said Violet’s name, the anonymous blonde disappearing to go get her.

He had texted Violet as soon as he had gotten the email from Raja that she wanted him at Galactica, and that she wanted him there now, but as always, she hadn’t seen his message yet.

“I like your new bag, Trixie-” Sutan smiled as he looked at Trixie who had gotten up to stretch, the man looking out the window. Trixie had a fanny pack hanging off of his hip, the cut a lot like what Sutan had seen the European male models run around with over their shoulders, but while theirs was black, Trixie’s was a hot pink and completely covered in jewels.

“Very very stylish.”

“Katya made it for me.”

Sutan wondered if he was supposed to know who Katya was, but Trixie seemed to love it, and fashion was fun at it’s core, or so he had been told.

Sutan was just about to get up himself for a stretch when Violet opened the door and stepped inside, a notebook in hand, her back completely straight.

She was just as pretty as always, an art printed poplin dress in white and light blue paired with a set of elegant heels, her black hair falling down her shoulders, a golden hair clip holding it in place.

He knew that Violet was a designer, but he was pleasantly surprised, and even a little proud, that she was apparently high enough on the food chain to be needed for a meeting like this. It was impressive, only 23, and already invaluable to senior management.

“Hello-“

“Glad you could finally grace us with your presence, Miss Chachki,” Fame drawled, looking bored and kind of impatient. “I need the name of the girl from Vogue, the one with the red-”

“Jourdan Dunn, Miss?”

“Yes!” Fame snapped her fingers. “Jourdan Dunn.”

“You want Jourdan? Now?” Sutan snorted. The model had been booked for months, and while he was very good at his job, he couldn’t make magic happen just because one of his friends changed her mind. “And would you like unicorns at your show as well-”

He was cut off as Raja kicked him under the table, his twin shooting him a serious look that told him to watch his mouth.

“You want someone like Jourdan.” Sutan put it down on the piece of paper in front of him. “Noted.”

“It suits our more tropical, garden-y type of theme for the collection,” Raja picked up a few girls, moving them over and into the approved pile. “Green does look wonderful on darker skin tones.”

Trixie, Fame and Raja chatted back and forth for a bit, Sutan at first caught up in their conversation, but as they started to discuss hairstyles, he zoned out. What they actually did with the models once they were booked was not his business, and while hair could be uncomfortable to endure, it was rarely a violation.

His attention wandered, his gaze settling on something much more interesting than clip on bangs.

Violet was standing against the wall, the woman writing away, noting down everything that was being said.

Sutan tried to catch her eye, tried to get Violet’s attention, but it almost felt like she was avoiding him completely, her gaze glued to her notes.

“Violet?”

Sutan was pulled out of his thoughts as Fame called Violet’s name.

“We need a round of coffees.”

Sutan’s brow furrowed, confused. Why would Miss Fame be sending a lead designer for coffees?

He looked around the room, only now realizing that the apparently useless blonde from earlier wasn’t in attendance anymore.

“Yes, Miss,” Violet said, voice so soft it was almost a whisper, before speaking up a bit more clearly. “What can I get for you all?”

“Hmm, mint tea would be great,” Raja said.

“Can I get an iced mocha with extra whip?” Trixie asked. Violet nodded, writing it down. “Thanks, you’re an angel.”

Violet finally looked Sutan in the eye for the first time all day.

“Anything for you… Sir?”

Sir? Violet had never called him sir, her brown eyes looking at him for the first time, and that was when it clicked. Fame wasn’t sending a designer out for coffees.

“Umh…” Sutan sat up in his chair, the whole situation absolutely bizarre. “No thanks.”

Violet nodded, the tears clear in her eyes as she turned towards the door, walking slowly and precisely. To anyone who didn’t know her, she seemed perfectly calm, but Sutan knew better.

“Please, Violet, continue to move at a glacial pace. You know how that thrills me,” Fame said drily, before turning her attention back to the model cards, pointing. “I like her…”

Sutan sat in his chair, a little dumbfounded. Violet was Fame’s assistant? Why hadn’t she told him that before? And why was she so upset? Nothing made sense at the moment.

“Hello? Tan?” Fame snapped her fingers, trying to get his attention.

“Yes?”

“Good lord, what is wrong with everyone today?” Fame tapped on one of the cards. “I want her. Trixie, don’t you think she’d be perfect for the resort look?”

“Her chest is a little flat.”

“But look at that waist! Those eyes! Sew some chicken cutlets into the top and she’ll be fine.”

“I can do that.” Trixie made a note.

“Put her on hold, Sutan,” Fame said, handing him the modeling card.

“Are you okay?” Raja asked, her head tilted in concern as she surveyed her brother up and down.

“Yes.” [Actually. No.] Sutan swallowed, his throat feeling as dry as sandpaper. [I need a-] “I need a minute to...excuse me.”

He rose from his chair, and Fame threw up her hands in exasperation.

“Is Mercury in retrograde?”

***

Courtney jumped up from her desk when Violet re-entered. She’d busied herself with updating the schedule and ordering office supplies, but found it impossible to concentrate when she was this worried. Something was really wrong with Violet, and even though Courtney didn’t know what, she felt awful just sitting here doing nothing.

“Violet!” Courtney rushed towards her. “Please tell me what’s wrong, are you-”

“I’m fine.” Violet pushed her way past her, tears falling from her eyes as she grabbed her jacket and her sunglasses, covering herself up so quickly Courtney almost doubted that she had even seen tears fall from Violet’s eyes before she grabbed for her keycard as well.

Courtney had never seen Violet like this before, had never seen her express any emotion beyond calm professionalism or indignant anger, so Violet’s tears shook her to the very core. She also seemed to be having trouble breathing, her skin red and blotchy.

“Please Violet, tell me what’s going on,” Courtney begged.

“Everything is fucked, that’s what’s wrong,” Violet hissed, the tinge of panic back in her voice. “I couldn’t even look at him! Couldn't even-”

“Couldn’t look at who?” Courtney racked her brain. She highly doubted that Trixie could be responsible for this reaction. The jovial head of design was everyone’s best friend, and she’d seen with her own eyes how much he respected Violet. So she must be talking about that other man, the tall one. Courtney’s eyes narrowed.

“Couldn’t look at who?”

“Fuck!” Violet swore as she couldn’t get her stupid jacket to close properly. Her fingers felt numb, clumsy, useless, useless just like her, her mind spiraling, her world zoomed in on the button she couldn’t even manage to close, her mother's voice ringing in her ears, the sharp tone one she hadn't heard in months.

“Violet?”

Her mother would never call her Violet, the word said with a gentle question she knew Courtney could never manage.

Violet turned around, and right there, right in front of her, was Sutan.

Courtney twirled to the man who was standing in the door, fury welling up in her chest.

How dare he show up here in the office? She didn’t know what he'd done to Violet, but she could very well use her imagination.

She stepped between them, arms crossed, asking coldly, “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” the man said, his voice annoyingly calm. “You can step away for a couple of minutes so that I can talk to Violet.”

“No, I’m sorry, that’s not going to be possible.” Courtney squared her shoulders, showing him she meant business.

The man let out a chuckle of disbelief before giving her a patient, charming smile.

“Listen, dear-”

“My name is not dear!” Courtney said. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

He took a deep breath before trying a different tactic.

“Well, dear, I don’t know your name, but if you kindly fuck off for 5 minutes, then I’ll happily name my first born child after you.”

Courtney’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. She didn’t care, at the moment, if she got fired. She was not going to let this man intimidate her, or mess with Violet any more than he already had.

“I think you’re the one who needs to fuck off, sir. So back away right now or I’ll have to call securi-”

“Courtney.”

Courtney felt a hand on her arm, Violet’s slender fingers on her.

“Can you go get the coffees?” Violet had pushed her sunglasses into her hair, her dark eyes liquid with tears she barely managed to hold back. “Please.”

“Are you sure?” Courtney asked softly. She really didn’t want to leave Violet alone with this horrible man, but she also didn’t want to say no to her, not in this vulnerable state.

“Yes.” Violet pressed a sheet of paper with the coffee order into her hand. “And Miss Fame’s usual.”

“Okay. But...text me if you need anything.” Courtney picked up her phone and notepad, casting an extra dirty look at that asshole as she left the office.

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #lesbian au #fashion au #vitan #violet chachki #courtney act #alaska #willam belli #pearl liaison #rhea litre #raja gemini #miss fame #trixie mattel #laganja estranja

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svtegg · 5 years

Text

i hope no one saw that

joshua idol!au smut inspired by 5. “You better shut that pretty little mouth before I put it to work, doll.” from the smut prompt list

3,1 k words

hope ypu guys enjoy this!! im really trying to get better at writing smut kksjndsjd its a process but yeah!!! i will be getting onto the smut prompt req you guys sent in next! sorry for the long wait mwah lov u

The Show Champion waiting room is stuffed, stylists running around trying to find the maknae of the group. But Riri is no where to be found. She was supposed to be getting into her tailored jean top 10 minutes ago and she had still not shown up. “Y/n, can you please go look into the halls to see if you can find Yiren? She was supposed to have her hair done by now.” You look up from your phone, the Instagram comments on your latest teaser picture lighting up your face as you shift your attention to one of your three managers. He’s standing in front of you, holding Joha, your leader’s outfit in his left hand and his phone in his other. You agree, pointing him in the direction of the sleeping lump on the floor when he asks you where Joohyun is.

The rustling and bustling from the packed room is left behind as the heavy door slams shut behind you. The contrast of the almost empty halls is almost hair raising. You remember the first few times at the broadcasting station, how stressed you and the rest of your group had been. Now it seemed like routine to you. You trudged down the hall, the material of your tiny poofy black skirt rough against your manicured hands as you subconsciously flattened out the fabric against the tops of your thighs. Your eyes scanned the identical doors, looking for the right one. The one with the SEVENTEEN sign hanging on it. You knew your maknae would be in there. And if she wasn’t at least one of the guys in that room would know where she was. You politely bowed as one of the staffs for your sunbae group EXO rushed past you.

Of course, Seventeen’s door had to be furthest down the hall, the noisy boys probably being put in the waiting room furthest away out of courtesy for the other groups that would be spending their day in the rooms lining the long, white hall. You knocked three times before taking a couple steps back to wait for the door to be opened.

The door was torn open, probably 20 faces staring you down as you stood in the hall, hands clasped together in front of you as you greeted the group and the staffs with a bow and a quiet hello. Seungkwan was the first one to speak, almost jumping to his feet from the corner couch to rush over to you. “Y/n sunbaenim, hello!” The young man smiled as he came over to take your hand, politely bowing back. He motioned for you to step in as the rest of the people littering the room went back to what they where doing before your untimely arrival. “I saw the teaser you guys posted yesterday! I can’t wait to see the live performance; it looks like you guys changed your concept.” He smiled, turning around to pick up one of the signed albums laying on the table behind him. Mingyu was sitting on his laptop and smiled at you quickly before turning back to the game he was playing. Seungkwan handed you the album, before asking you what brought you over to the Seventeen waiting room.

“Actually,” You started after thanking him for the cd. “I was wondering if Yiren stopped by, she’s supposed to have her hair done like, right now.” Seungkwan looked around the room, calling Joshua over as he was the one who had talked to Vernon before he disappeared with your groups maknae. Joshua gave you a friendly smile as he walked over, Seungkwan explaining everything to him and Joshua nodding in understanding. “I’ll go look for them with you, we need Vernon back now anyway, its his turn to tweet.” Joshua smiled, his styled hair falling into his eyes as he threw his neck to motion to the door.

“See you later, Y/n! Good luck on your performance, you look really pretty!” Seungkwan yelled as he raised his fists in support, the rest of the boys voiced various exclamations of support as the door closed behind Joshua and you.

Joshua was wearing all black, his hair also dyed black for their new comeback. He looked really good, but then again when didn’t he look good. He smiled at you as you glanced up at him. There was a slight pause before he spoke. “Vernon said they would most likely be in the hall by the conference rooms up on the fourth. There’s apparently the least people up there.” He was still smiling, his voice dripping with amusement as he spoke. You let out an entertained sound, walking beside him down the hall towards the elevators, the album Seungkwan had handed you clasped in your hands. “Of course, young love wants privacy. They can’t hold hands in front of anyone, its too embarrassing.” You joked, knowing well that they couldn’t do anything infront of anyone. The showbiz was way to harsh and judging for love to be accepted. Joshua let out a laugh that sounded a little more like a sigh, leaning out to press the button for the elevator. There were a few camera techs looking your way as you stood in front of the elevator, so Joshua took a discreet step away from you.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, both you and Joshua where careful to not get too close as you entered. You made eye contact with one of the backstage workers as you turned around to lean against the wall of the elevator and you could see him audibly gasp as your eyes connected. You just gave your sweetest smile as the elevator doors closed. Joshua broke out into muffled giggles as the capsule started moving.

“What?” You innocently asked, turning to face the man beside you. He just smiled at you, his eyes squinting in amusement. “Nothing! Nothing..” He waved his hands in front of his face. “Just.. The look on that staff’s face. Priceless.” He giggled, covering his mouth with his hand. Before he straightened up. “Seungkwan was right though, you look really pretty.” He continued, his entire aura changing suddenly. He reached his hand out to tuck a stray piece of curled hair behind your ear, his eyes flickering around your face as he stepped closer. “It’s almost too bad you’re changing your concept. I almost can’t control myself, even in front of the other guys, seeing you dressed like this.” He whispers, his lips curling so enticingly around every word he spoke. He lets his hand linger on your face, and you almost get the urge to kiss him but you feel the elevator halt to a stop so you step away with every last bit of self control that you can muster. “Control yourself, Hong. We don’t want a scandal now do we?” You snark at him, straightening out your shirt a little before the doors glide open and you strut out, greeting someone you recognize as one of Red Velvet’s managers.

The rapid succession of steps behind you is obviously Joshua’s, even the sound of him walking sounding familiar to you. “It’s not fair!” He quietly whines as you look for the hall leading to the conference rooms, your head perking up as you see a sign pointing in the desired direction. “What isn’t fair?” You ask him, casting a quick glance at him over your shoulder. He looks so strong and manly, the stage costume consisting of mostly fake leather and ripped fabric stretched to the point of almost ripping over his delicious thighs and wide shoulders.

“This stage costume, the hair, the makeup..” He muses, purposely leaning closer to you. “The dance.” He lets his hands trail up your sides, the shirt you’re wearing being the only thing saving your sanity. You slow down a little, letting Joshua press his chest into your back while you look around quickly to make sure no one is around the nearest corner. “You know how much I love that fucking choreo, babe.” He rasps, pressing his face into the side of your neck. “You love it enough to get hard in your jeans watching me and the girls practice.” You tease him, turning around in his grasp and taking a few steps backwards to lean against the door leading to the hall you were looking for, giving him the cockiest look you could before turning the handle and slipping into the hall.

“Wong Yiren, you’re wanted downstairs your royal highness.” You say, your voice dripping with ‘you’re in trouble’. The younger girl looks up at you, embarrassingly snatching her hand away from her boyfriends grip. “Y/n!” She whines, her long black hair flying around her face as she whips her head around to look at you. “You could have just texted me instead.” She mumbles as she gets up from the stairstep she was sitting on. Well, basically she was sitting in Vernon’s lap, but you decided not to embarrass her further. You smile teasingly at her as she slips past you, head bowed to hide the bright pink blush on her cheeks. Vernon was following right behind her, probably blushing even more than your member. “You left your phone with Taehyun manager, Yiren.” You chuckle after the teenager as she jerks open the door you had just walked in through.

Joshua is leaning against the wall by said door, an amused smirk on his face as he mutters some words to Vernon before the boy disappears into the hall after his somewhat embarrassed girlfriend. You look him up and down, the silk shirt he was wearing under the pleather jacket struggling to stretch all the way across his chest. “So, are you gonna get hard in your pants watching the pre recording today?” you tease the male, his eyes going wide as he looks over at you. He checks to see if the door beside him was actually closed before lifting himself off the wall and taking two long strides over to you.

“You’re such a pain, babe.” He mutters, letting his arms circle around your waist to pull you closer to him. You could feel his breath on you cheek as he let his left arm slide down from your back and over the curve of your ass. Your breath involuntary hitches as he lifts the skirt covering you to squeeze the flesh. “And you’re a huge horndog, Mr. Hong.” You tease, trying your best to regain your selfcontrol. You can feel yourself giving in to the slow, burning hot touches Joshua trails along your sides. He chuckles lowly against your neck, not quite leaving kisses but attempting to at least touch you in some kind of way. “You better shut that pretty little mouth before I put it to work, doll.” He mutters, his lips tickling the sensitive skin right under your ear. You feel his teeth graze against the side of your neck, his breath fanning against the flushed skin making you feel even more hot. You let out a mix between a heavy breath and a strained moan as your head tilts back, the words “make me” barely making their way past your parted lips as Joshua bites gently into the skin of your almost exposed shoulder.

Joshua chuckles, his hands trailing up the expanse of your back before pressing lightly against your shoulders. The jean material top you had put on earlier in disarray, the right shoulder slipping slightly off your form. “Get on your knees, baby.” Joshua commands, his eyes dark as he pulls away from your neck to look you in the eyes. You throw away any form of self-control as you sink down onto the carpeted floor, your exposed knees meeting the plush material with a soft thud. Both you and Joshua work urgently to get his belt open enough to slip his ripped black jeans a little further down his hips. Just enough to slip his cock out.

You’re desperate as you make quick work of kissing up his length, he’s already more than half hard and you can hear how good it feels, a low hissing sound filling the slender hall the two of you are situated in. You look up at him through your lashes as you take him into your mouth, his dark eyes meeting yours. You could tell he was enjoying this from the sounds he let out, bit in his eyes there was also a hint of excitement for something else. Maybe it was the reality of how careless you both where right now, the fact that anyone could walk in and see you on your knees infront of him, all for him to use. The fact that maybe a staff would come looking for you and catch you choking on all of him. He lets out a beautiful groan as you start working him deeper into your mouth, your stage makeup smudging as your eyes start watering slightly. Joshua lets his head tip back, a string of curses leaving his lips when you start moving your head a little faster. He has a tight grip on your previously immaculately styled hair, you know the stylist is going to be beside herself with anger when she sees you but right now, you’re more concerned with the way Joshua is encouraging you to take more of him.

“Fuck, baby, I love your mouth so much. Hold still let me fuck your face, doll.” He groans, his face contorting beautifully with the pleasure he’s feeling. His brows furrow together as you let your jaw go slack. He takes a hold of your previously styled hair with both his hands, his fingers digging into your scalp as he moves his hips more rapidly against your face. “You look so fucking hot, holy shit.” He whispers, his raspy voice almost breaking as you swallow around him causing his hips to jerk against your face. You can feel your knees digging hard into the carpet but the look on Joshua’s face is too distracting, his plush lips caught between his teeth, his eyes closed and brows furrowed in pleasure. He lets out a raspy curse when you lift your hands to squeeze his thighs, the involuntary moan that rips from your throat causing his hips to stutter as he comes into your mouth with the most deliciously unholy sounding moan you had ever heard.

He apologizes quickly as he fixes himself, buckling up his belt while you straighten out your stage costume. You look around, suddenly very aware of where you are. “I hope no one saw that.” You whisper, an unsure giggle filling the air between the two of you as the conversation halts. Joshua has the cheesiest smile on his face, and he almost looks like someone just told him there’s extra chicken for him at home. “What?” You ask, looking down at yourself to see if anything was out of the ordinary. He just giggles, almost like a lovestruck teenager. “Nothing!” He smiles, and he looks like he’s about to say something more before the all too familiar iPhone ringtone slices through the room.

“Yeah?” Joshua says, his voice sounding a little hoarse, so he quickly clears his throat after speaking. “Oh shit! Okay, yeah. We’re on our way.” He quickly finishes, pocketing his phone before looking up at you with a serious look. “Your group are about to go on, the 5-minute warning just went out. Everyone is looking for you.” You almost shout out a curse before bolting down the hall, Joshua quickly following you down the sets of stairs. You’re panting hard as you burst through the stairwell door, coming face to face with your group member Jiya, who doesn’t look very pleased. “Where were you?!” Another group member shouts from the sound tech station, a staff hooking her receiver into the edge of her blue shorts. “Y/n!” Another sound tech yells, motioning you over to get mic’ed up as well. You mutter a string of apologies as you adjust the cords to your in ears, Yiren looking at you with a smirk as she moves to wait by the stairs to the stage.

You’re all rushed onto the stage and preform your comeback song, One & Only along with your b-side thanx so much! without any mistakes, the fans cheering loudly for you and screaming the fanchants at the top of their lungs. They also lose it at the killing part, the songs being a lot sexier than the earlier cute and innocent concepts you’ve done. You and the other 8 members are in 100 as you run of stage, proud that it went of without any more problems. You all get settled into more comfortable clothes, Chaeni even putting on a sheet mask as the afterglow of the performance wears off a little. You fish your phone out of the black designer purse you had been given by the stylists early this morning for the greeting photos outside the station.

You felt your cheeks get hot as you scrolled through the twitter timeline, fansite photos and screenshots from the live performance littering the screen on your phone. The fans where going crazy, both over the new songs but also over another matter, that didn’t have anything to do with your new mini album at all.

“Why are Y/n’s knees so red? I hope she’s okay! Fighting”

“They look so good!!! Omgggg! Also is that a hickey I see on Y/n’s neck? Huhuh who’s getting it on with my queen huh??”

“In this selfie of Nahyun and Y/n from before the preformance she doesn’t have that red mark on her neck…. But in the live she does…. What’s going on here…..”

You quickly close the app, lifting your phone closer to your face to hide the screen as you switched over to a different app. You opened the texts between you and Joshua and typed out the message “Joshua Hong!!!!! You’re dead.” Before hitting send. The waiting room was cleared of anyone but your fellow group members, leader Joohyun had fallen asleep on the mat on the floor, Yosei on her phone beside her. Chaeni was waiting for her sheet mask to dry and Yiren was probably texting Vernon. Nahyun and Daria where playing on Hyunji’s switch. You hoped none of them would check their phones so you would live to see another day. Your phone vibrated with a text notification, Joshua’s name flashing on the screen with the word ‘Sorry’ under. That little shit.

“Y/n!” You heard Yosei squeal, Hyunji gasping as she kneeled down to look at the older girls phone. Fuck.

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jawnjendes · 5 years

Text

don’t want your hand this time | shawn mendes

chapter 1/?, university au, shawn x goth oc

AN: i know i know i posted a thing yesterday but UUUHHHHH im just tryna get to the saucy parts of this bc SOMEBODY decided to be all hot n sexy in a certain music video ANYWAY this is just an intro chapter of sorts and we are introducing some new characters!! lmk your thoughts thots!

***let me know if u wanna be added/removed from the taglist

masterlist | playlist coming soon

When Annalise Flores has shit to do within a time limit, she forgets about everything else. Her phone goes on silent, she ignores her other obligations, and she makes sure to get whatever is in her focus done. This has proven to be disastrous in the past, like when Annalise just needed to clean the entire dorm before starting any homework assignment was due the next day. Or when she reorganized the filing closet at the dealership before adding up the gas receipts she was ordered to do. You get the idea.

Annalise was very determined to get all of her unopened boxes, and her clothes to fit in her tiny, beat up car so she didn't have to make multiple trips, given how far campus is from Shawn's apartment. He promised he would help her move when he got home, he had that huge Jeep after all, but Annalise was way too antsy. Besides, they already fought about this, and she didn't want to start anything all over again. She didn't want him to feel obligated to help if only one of them was into the idea of her moving out.

After pushing on the car door three times, it finally clicked shut. Annalise successfully managed to stuff all of her clothes and half her boxes into the backseat. The rest of the boxes were in the trunk. The windows were all covered, so maybe she wouldn't be able to see her blind spots, but at least Annalise wouldn't have to make a second trip. She silently thanked the Tetris gods for blessing her with the appropriate skills as she went back up to the apartment.

Shawn's living space didn't look that different with all of Annalise's belongings out. Most of it was all stashed into the "recording" room over the summer, and neither of them spent any time in there. There was more space in the closet now, too. It was no longer just a black abyss, and all of Shawn's belongings were now undisturbed. Annalise debated smuggling out his black Nike hoodie, but given the circumstances it was best to leave everything as it was. The apartment didn't look any different really, but Annalise still felt an ache from her throat down to the bottom of her feet as she removed the spare key from her chain and left it on the glass dining table. This was easier than saying goodbye to him in person.

Campus was nowhere near as quiet and lonely as the apartment. Students were running around like headless chickens, trying to locate buildings, schedules, and friends. She already had a key to her dorm, so she parked near her building and carried her backpack and two boxes up the walkway. Annalise's resting bitch face and the clunk of her boots on the ground gave her less of a struggle to push past other students. Weak and fragile as she was these last couple of months, she's still got it.

The dorm building wasn't too far from the last one she lived in, but it was going to be a bitch getting to her classes. Maybe she should invest in a bike… or she should get her shit together and take the bus.

Annalise's new dorm was on the third floor, and it was furnished. Weird, yes, but she was not going to complain. It was a bit smaller, but not cramped. There was a tiny hallway between the two bedrooms, and one cramped bathroom. She noticed one room already had boxes sitting on the floor, and she couldn't help but get just a little excited. Stella hadn't completely abandoned her. Annalise wasn't even mad about their three month long silence, she was just happy that she would be seeing a familiar face.

She didn't run into Stella at all during the multiple trips she took bringing all her stuff in. Annalise knew she was here, though. Her perfume scent was always left behind in any room she had been in, and Annalise definitely caught the scent in the dorm. The same amount of boxes were still in her room by the time Annalise finished bringing all of her's in. She figured she could have texted Stella, but she kind of wanted to surprise her… even though they both knew about the other.

She checked her phone anyway. The only text she had was from Shawn.

"How come you didn't wait for me?"

Pursing her lips and smudging the signature black lipstick, Annalise cleared the notification and went to sit in the armchair in the living room. She was way too tired to try to reason with him. She certainly couldn’t jump into the "I miss you" crap so quickly either. She didn't want to, but Shawn obviously did when he sent another text. Out of sheer habit, Annalise opened the notification instead of clearing it, and she cursed under her breath.

"You've been gone only a few hours and this place already feels so sad and empty. Why did you leave your key?"

Yeah, she left him on read. She didn't know what else to say to him.

Thankfully, the lock on the door jiggled and in came Stella carrying a large cardboard box. She gasped and her hazel eyes lit up when she saw her dark natured roommate. She quickly squatted down and set the box on the floor before coming at Annalise with open arms.

"Mi esposa hermosa!"

Annalise will never say this out loud, but Stella gives wonderful hugs. They two girls haven't seen each other in over three months, so getting a nice tight hug was something that was really needed. They rocked from side to side, giggling at the motions. It was like nothing had really changed.

"When did I become your wife?" Annalise asked, amused as she leaned back to look at her.

"When we decided to live together for the third year in a row!" Stella replied. “Oh you got a little…” Her thumb rubbed under Annalise’s lip, showing her the black.

“The struggles of being goth,” she joked.

Stella giggled, and then the rambling began. "How are you? I'm so sorry we didn't talk much over the summer. Did you stay with Shawn the whole summer? Oh, is he here?" She bounced on her feet, looking around the dorm.

"Uh yeah, I did stay with him the entire time," she told her. "And no, he's not here. He's working."

Annalise knew he wasn't. He had found her abandoned key, which meant he was home. And he was probably sulking. And he was going to sleep alone...

"But he'll be here later, right?" Stella asked, nudging her arm. "Y'all are gonna christen your room, eh?"

She really had to ask, didn't she? She really had to jokingly ask a question that would change the expression on Annalise's face, thus warning her of the things that had happened. She wasn't sure why she kept an obviously fake smile on her face as she silently stared at her roommate. The silence alone wasn't enough, apparently.

Normally, Stella would dramatically gasp, sit her down, and ask Annalise to spill every detail. Instead, she sighed.

"Fill me in while you help me bring my stuff up."

Classes and club meetings resumed within the next couple of days, so it gave Annalise plenty of excuses to keep her texts to Shawn dismissive and short. She knew he was coming and going from campus for class too, but due to their different majors, he was going to be very far away from her. Not to mention, he didn't know where her new dorm was located, so it wasn't like he could track her down.

Except… Annalise had to retake biology. She knew Shawn was at the science building quite often, and she had hoped her bio lab fell on a day that he was at the fine arts building. But you know, life just happens, and sometimes you see your mans between classes. Sometimes you just see him leaving classroom, towering over the other students because he’s a giant. Maybe you’ll see him with a very short girl at his side, and they’re both laughing at something. Maybe he won’t see you either because he’s balls deep in banter with this random girl.

There was a lump in Annalise’s stomach following that minor event, and it made her anxious and uneasy for the first day of that class. Still, she was determined to stay on board with the separation they both agreed on. It was better that way for now. She didn't know about Shawn, but Annalise fully intended on keeping the distance, suspicious-looking friends be damned.

Anyway, she could find friends of her own too. Gaming club meetings started up again that Friday, and it was something to look forward to. After god knows how long, Annalise attended said meeting after receiving an email from the head of the club, Josh. He and his friend, Paul, ran the club most of the time. They managed to get plenty of people to sign up during the rush earlier in the week but only seven of them actually attended the first meeting. Just like every year.

Both Josh and Paul were scrawny blond boys with "nice guy" complexes. They were polite for the most part, given that they inducted Annalise into the club the moment she signed up. But they also quizzed her on just about every popular, mainstream video game there was once they realized she would actually be showing up to the meetings. It took time, and a bit of Annalise telling them off, but they were civil towards each other now.

"Annalise!" called Chad as the lady herself entered the classroom in the communications building. He was another member, and he had his two frat bros with him, Kyle and Jared, and they both chanted her name in their deep, manly voices.

All different heights, but same amount of insane muscle. For lack of better words, these guys were meatheads with good intentions. Chad was a student with one of the highest GPA on campus, practically competing with Josh. Kyle was the star student in his major, sports medicine. Jared was that guy who beat up bigots as a hobby. All three of them were fully dedicated to their fraternity, Sigma Chi.

Then there was Patrick, who nodded to Annalise as a greeting. She nodded back and took the empty seat next to him in the circle.

The people who think Annalise Flores is a complete hardcore goth have not met Patrick Markowski. This was a guy who was always decked out in leather, ripped jeans, and black eyeliner. He had a proper faux hawk, which is what made people notice him the most. He typically surrounded himself with other goths, unlike Annalise. He was truly dedicated to the lifestyle, while she deviated from even that sometimes. This was the only guy in the club Annalise was actually friends with.

Anyway, all seven of these nerds shared the same appreciation for video games, which brought them all together in a circle, in an empty classroom, in the communications building this evening. However, Annalise's entrance caused the guys to deviate from the main topic.

Josh and Paul had been staring at her with their mouths open the second she entered the room. The Frats were visibly excited and each gave her a high five. Patrick merely stayed quiet and smiled.

"Heard you almost fucking died!" Chad told her. "And you didn't tell a single one of us!"

"I thought you had actually died," Josh spoke up. "Since you never miss a meeting and all."

So that got around. Cool.

“I wasn’t dying,” Annalise said, rolling her eyes. “I just had part of my colon surgically removed.”

“No way…” Jared said in wonder.

“Oh, that’s disgusting,” said Paul with a gag. He brought the collar of his red Pizza Planet shirt over his mouth.

The Frats stared at Annalise in awe, almost impressed by her vague explanation. She really didn’t understand the fascination, given everything that happened during and after the hospital. Of course, they knew nothing about any of that. At the same time, Annalise was annoyed at Paul’s dramatic reaction, so she kept talking.

“It might happen to you too if you don’t take care of yourself and listen to your body,” she told him. “Or worse, you could end up with a bag of your poop attached to your belly.”

Paul gagged again, much louder this time. Then Annalise decided that that was enough and directed the conversation to the club’s main topic: video games.

“So who’s played Team Sonic Racing?”

It was only the first meeting, so the group made a plan to bring their Switches and play next time. The Nice Guys prompted to play a round of Fortnite online later, but Annalise was not up for that game in the slightest. Too mainstream. Too chaotic. She never could get into it.

“Well, we can play without you,” Paul suggested, “not everyone has to join in.”

“Isn’t that a rule, though?” Patrick asked pointedly. “If we’re gonna play something together, we all have to agree on one game. Besides, I don’t play Fortnite either.”

Paul's eyes darted around, trying to look for a counterargument, but he sighed. “Fine. Anyone else got any suggestions?”

“What about a D&D campaign?” Annalise said. “Or some type of board game?”

Josh scoffed. “It’s video game club. Besides, me and Paul already have a campaign with our other friends.”

“‘Course you do,” she mumbled, folding her arms.

“Ooo! I got an idea!” Kyle spoke up, raising his massive hand. “We should hit up Bart. That bar with the art and retro games?”

Annalise perked up. Finally, someone with a brain cell. “I participated in a Smash Bros tournament there. It’s really fun, we should all go one weekend.”

“A bar?” Josh said in distaste.

“Yeah! It’ll be a class field trip or something!” Chad agreed. “It’s awesome, bro! They got a Gamecube and an N64! Sometimes they do karaoke night, but only with songs from different games!”

Then, Kyle looked at Annalise with a smirk. “Bet your boyfriend would perform there, eh?”

Even when she was far away from him, Shawn still had a presence wherever she went. “Heh, maybe…”

Luckily, none of these guys were the type to hover. The subject went back to going to Bart one weekend, and then the group chat was revived to discuss further adventures. Once the meeting was adjourned, Patrick followed me out the door.

“So, Annie. No offense or anything,” he said, walking in step beside her as they walked down the corridor, “but what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“My summer was great, thanks,” Annalise said, too busy glancing at her phone to cringe at that awful nickname. No new messages for once.

“Nah, seriously. You were in the fucking hospital, and I find out through Snapchat?” he asked seriously. “Did you even tell anybody? What the hell happened?”

She didn’t remember posting anything about her hospital stay anywhere on social media. However, the only two people who were there with her were social media freaks. Stella was the type to tweet every single one of her brain farts, and frequently Snap where she was every second. Shawn was less active on his platforms, but he was still quite popular in the Toronto area, so he had a sizeable following. Annalise knew he took a picture of his hand holding hers while she was in the hospital at least once. Maybe it made it to his Instagram story a couple of times.

Sighing, Annalise gave Patrick the gist of her exciting adventure with her large intestine. Some underlying guilt wanted to be felt as she recalled staying and Shawn’s for so long, but she decided to spare those details.

“Looked death in the face, eh?” he said, nodding in what looked like approval. “Badass.”

She chuckled. “Guess I wasn’t ready to be yeeted off this mortal coil.”

“Ugh, you use the word yeet? How much has that guy changed you?” Patrick stuck his tongue out at her, flashing the piercing he had on the muscle.

“Hey, I’m more down with the kids than he is.”

The pair were quiet as they made it out to the courtyard. The night was chilly and cloudy, the only light coming from the lampposts on either side of the walkway. It felt different knowing Annalise was with only a friend rather than her mans, and she tried to ignore the ache in her chest and the urge to talk about him.

“Do you remember what it was like?” Patrick asked after a minute. “Being so close to death?”

“Nope,” she replied simply. “Although, when I was under, I had a really vivid dream that my… uh, Shawn cheated on me.” Way to not talk about him.

“You sure it was a dream?”

They were passing by one of the picnic tables, where Patrick pointed to. There was a group of people standing around the table, and two people sitting on top of it. One of those people was Shawn with his acoustic guitar. He was singing with the girl who was sitting next to him, the same one he was walking with at the science building. It wouldn’t have seemed weird if Patrick hadn’t said what he said. It would have been left alone if Annalise hadn’t thought about that stupid fever dream.

“Come on,” she said to Patrick as she stalked off towards the group.

“I was joking!” he said with a laugh.

Still, Annalise walked with a purpose and he followed her. She clutched the strap of her shoulder bag and kept her chin up as she made herself apart of the tiny audience. It was quite the sight, two nerds decked out in all black and heavy eyeliner amongst a group of normals watching two other normals sing a pop song. No lie, Annalise just wanted to get a look at this girl she had never seen before.

Olive skin. Black, curly hair. Very short next to her guy. Very pretty voice coming out of very pretty lips. She looked at Shawn and he looked back at her as they sang an eerily familiar song. Musically speaking, they seemed good together.

“I’ll leave you with the memory, and the aftertaste…”

The tiny audience clapped. Patrick was nodding in pleasant surprise, probably having never heard Shawn’s songs before. Annalise applauded as well, but she couldn’t help the narrowing of her eyes as she watched Shawn and this girl high five each other.

They were both comfortable with all the attention, it was easy to see. Shawn was beaming in a way that hadn’t been seen in a long time, and then he laid eyes on Annalise. He still had that smile on his face, even though it faltered a little bit. She kept her face neutral and quirked her eyebrows at him as a silent greeting.

“Should I leave you guys alone?” asked Patrick as he and Annalise watched Shawn get down from the table top.

“No,” she replied simply.

She almost regretted having him stay. He had to witness Shawn and Annalise attempt to figure out how to greet each other. A side hug would have been awkward for reasons not only having to do with the guitar strapped to his shoulder. She definitely couldn’t kiss him, because that would have started something she had been trying to distance herself from. They finally settled for a mildly uncomfortable handshake, and Shawn kept holding her hand as he spoke.

It had been almost a week since Ann moved out, and she only sent him one text in that time span. It was the black heart emoji. Better than nothing, but not better than seeing her in person.

“You haven’t answered my texts,” Shawn told her. If she was going to decide when she'll give him attention, then he wasn't going to beat around the bush when he saw her.

“I’ve been busy,” Ann replied, feebly attempting to shake her hand away.

Shawn nodded, but he wasn't thoroughly convinced. Between work and school, Ann was a hermit. Or so he thought, given that she now had this new goth dude at her side. “So, who’s your friend?”

“Who’s yours?” she quickly said back.

“I’m Patrick!” said Patrick, holding out his hand. “Annie and I go way back!”

Shawn let go of her hand to shake his. “Nice to meet you, brother. Wait… Annie?” He chuckled.

Her cheeks heated up, and she decided to move her eyes somewhere else, specifically on Shawn’s unnamed singing partner. She was chatting with some of the other people still around the table. Annalise noticed she talked with her hands a lot.

“She lets me call her that even though she hates it,” Patrick said, snapping her back into the moment. “Right, Annie?”

“Do not,” she warned. Then she looked at Shawn. “So who’s the chick you’re singing with?”

Shawn took in an almost reluctant deep breath as he turned and called the girl over. If there was anything he had yet to discover, it had to be if his girl was the jealous type.

Annalise's dark brown eyes narrowed once again while he wasn’t looking. Call it anxiety or paranoia, but she was oddly suspicious. Patrick caught the glare though, and he nudged her arm to snap her out of it.

“Ann, Patrick, this is Alessia,” Shawn said when the very short girl joined them. “She’s a first year. Alessia, this is my…” He elongated the vowel. “Annalise. And her friend Patrick.”

Okay, so… a sinking feeling in the tummy. That’s what that felt like. Couldn’t be mad, though. Annalise wasn’t so quick to use the boyfriend word these days.

“You’re Annalise!” Alessia said in pleasant surprise. She did not hesitate to hug her, arms going around her shoulders and practically pulling her down to her level. “It’s so nice to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you!”

Honestly, Annalise was just glad she didn’t call her the goth girlfriend. Or the goth anything, for that matter. She didn’t hug Patrick, though, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“So, how did you two meet?” Annalise prompted. So maybe she was a little more than curious to know how and when Shawn found the time to get another girl at his side.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Shawn replied a little too quickly.

His eyes bored into hers, throwing them into a staredown. He broke through the fake, polite smile Ann had on. Of course he broke it. He was the only one who could. However, Shawn couldn't read the expression she had on. He couldn't tell if she was upset or not, happy or not… He couldn't tell if she wanted to change her mind about this separation or not… Ten months together and Ann was still a mystery.

“Uh, Shawn and I have like, every class together,” Alessia said slowly, looking between the couple, noticing the sudden change in atmosphere. She scratched the back of her head.

“Annie and I have been in the same club for two years,” Patrick added in the same tone. He too noticed the tension.

“Oh, which club? There’s some I’ve been checking out…”

Those two kept up the conversation. Shawn’s gaze on Annalise made her throat close up. He wasn’t smiling or feigning politeness anymore. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were hard and glossed over. Inexplicable guilt began to form in her chest yet again. She knew he didn’t understand.

_______

taglist: @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @ilsolee @mendesromano @1-800-khalid-mendussy @kitykatnumber @strangerliaa @iloveshawnieboi @poppyshawn @shawnsunflower @shawnvvmendes @yourdelightfullyleft @shawmndes @havethetimeeofyourlifee @calyumthomas

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes smut #shawn x goth gf #this is the Start of some stupid ass fuckery #aka the Sequel #shoutout to the shawns hoes gc for letting me tag some of yall #and yes this fic will be in 3rd pov #we haven't heard enough of Shawn's thots n feelios lu #and i guess how u know its in shawns pov is when Ann is used instead of annalise #if u read the tags i appreciate u

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paniccord-ff · 7 years

Text

21. Part 2

The penthouse suite EJ has got us is fucking beautiful but I don’t remember paying for this at all, I know I didn’t because I accepted the offer and that was it “only the best for us bad bitches, we ain’t about to sleep in this place. We about to go out” EJ said as he walked over to the pool table “you look confused?” Munchie said nudging me “uhm, this is nice but I don’t remember paying” Munchie busted out laughing “sorry girl, I am not laughing at you at all” she held my arm “you’re with Chris Brown, he paid for you” squinting my eyes at her “what?” he never said “he paid EJ, he paid your side. You’re ok, I guess he didn’t mention it to you” shaking my head, he never does “how much?” I asked “it’s best if you ask hunny. Ok Bitches get the hell ready to leave, and you little miss Rylee put your bikini on we about to go to a beach club” EJ touched my hair “I would embrace this, Chris wants you living good so don’t be annoyed with him” Tamia nodded her head “you will see my friends next, we will have a good time. Pretend you’re single” he shrugged smiling.

Closing the bedroom door, the bedroom is so nice and the bed is huge. I will feel lonely now, no Chris suffocating me or placing his legs over mine. Placing my overnight bag on the bed and also my bag, this room has it’s own bathroom too, such a blessing this is. The best I’ve been in is a Hilton hotel standard room, this is amazing. I have to thank Chris, he can’t keep doing this to me because I don’t deserve and I am not those girls that want his money. I best get ready before EJ drags my ass out of this room, unzipping my bag. I am sure I packed a bikini but I might not have because I think of Vegas and just casino’s, I don’t know. Picking my clothes out one by one, I don’t know how I managed to fit everything in this overnight bag, I stole Chris’ bag because I don’t really have one. Placing my hand in the bag, feeling a lump in there “huh” pulling open the bag looking in, seeing a stack of money with a band around it “what the hell” picking it out of my bag, seeing this stack of cash in my hand. I know I didn’t do this and Chris was stood next to my bag “Chris!” I said through gritted teeth, why did he do this. Staring at the money, there is at least ten thousand here, oh my god.

To: Chris

From: Rylee

You really put that money in my bag?? Come on Chris, I am not with you for the money and I don’t want it, stop it. And you paid for the hotel, I can’t repay you back for this! Lol I am a broke nurse, stop it!!! I am bringing this back and I am shocked I didn’t get stopped at the airport with this, my head right now! STAWPPPPP

Pressing send on the message, I am shocked at him. I should have known he was up to something but I didn’t think of it, I am so stupid at times. Looking to the side of me, that money is a hell of a lot. That could pay for my wages to stay my ass at home for a couple of months and he just gave it me like this, like it was nothing to him “you done!?” Tamia shouted outside the door, jumping up from the side of my bed “shit” looking at the time on my phone “uhh yeah, just putting my bikini on” I have done noting, I haven’t even refreshed my makeup or done my hair “don’t make EJ knock this door down, hurry up girl” Tamia chuckled, I am still panicking over this money. What if I got stopped at the airport, I would be so confused on this and then they might have thought I am some drug dealer, Chris is so annoying but in a cute way.

Fixing my body chain on my body, this shit had to get tangled in my bag. I have spent ten minutes undoing this all “finally” I breathed out, I hope this black bikini looks ok but topping it up with my chains may make it look better. I don’t have the time so I just put some Berry coloured lipstick on, turning around and grabbing my brown sheer top to put on. Luckily I was actually thinking of outfits back at home so I must have put the full set in my bag, placing the sheer top carefully over my head. Seeing my phone screen light up, looking over at my phone screen and seeing Chris has text me back. Let me look in the mirror before I am done, this look ok I am guessing but I didn’t have the time to fix my hair as much, so this messy bun will do. Placing my shades over my eyes, grabbing my phone and unlocking it “let’s go!” EJ opened my bedroom door “I am done!” I can actually say I am “work it girl, put those slides on and lets go. You look really good” smiling at EJ complimenting me, looking down at the text message.

From: Chris

To: Rylee

I don’t want the money back… I told you I am rich in love and use the money to buy yourself something nice because if you bring it back you could get stopped ;)… lol

Pulling a face at the text, so he is saying I have to use it because I am not about to do that at all. He thinks he’s funny doing this, texting him back.

To: Chris

From: Rylee

I will buy you a mouth guard so you can stop biting my nipple, we not talking now…. Stop doing this, after this text I am not texting you because you can’t keep buying me things, see me on Insta. Mwah x

Grabbing my clutch and slipping my feet into my slides, power walking out of my bedroom “you came looking for a man, you better slay hunny” Munchie said, twirling around “thank you, I honestly didn’t know what to wear but clearly I do” I giggled, seeing Joe stood in the room “you know, you can just go and I can say you stayed” I feel bad for him “so I can get fired? Chris has given me strict rules so no” Joe said, side eyeing him “strict rules? Like what, you can tell me because I am not speaking to him right now” Joe laughed, feeling my phone vibrate in my hand, looking down at the screen and seeing Chris’ name “yeah that is him calling but I am not speaking to him, tell me” Joe shook his head “we can lose Joe, it’s fine. If you partying with us we will get him drunk” EJ said “ok let’s go, my girls are meeting us there” turning my head away from Joe as I walked by him “Rylee, don’t be like that with me” he said, he can lose me now.

The SUV stopped outside the place, we could have walked but then again who would want to walk like this. EJ got out first and I followed behind him, shuffling out of the car. I can already hear the music “I bet this shit is already packed, we took longer than usual because of someone” he pointed at me, I can’t really say anything about that because it was me that wasted time “oh my god” EJ said, feeling him touch my shoulder “huh” looking up at him “don’t mean to alarm you but, have you ever seen Roro mother?” frowning shaking my head, EJ’ eyes widened and pointed slyly behind him. Looking behind him seeing a group of women “who?” I mouthed, EJ blinked at me “the bigger broad bitch, shaped like a line backer, built like fridge. Tattoos” Munchie busted out laughing “EJ, you straight up wrong” looking behind EJ again and this time I see her and she also saw me, she looks way older than I thought “I think ole girl got issues already but let’s get inside” Munchie pulled me along, I don’t know why she gave me a look for.

Walking by the pool of people, half naked women and men “guess what though, Drake finna be playing here later. We might dip by then but hopefully not” Tamia said at the side of me “I like him, his song anyways” I hope EJ has got us a spot because this is packed “Deandre and Antone!” EJ shouted in excitement, looking to where he is walking too. Seeing the two guys get up to hug EJ “I thought he said girls?” I said to Tamia “they gay” she said, letting out an oh, they are gay so he calls them his girl “I am glad you bitches could come” he pointed at the three females waving while sitting down “so you know these two but we have a newcomer, this is my girl Rylee” EJ waved me over, these two are gay because they are too fine for that “seen her face, that’s Chris Brown’s girlfriend” one of them said, EJ kissed his teeth “she has a name nigga, Rylee this nigga is Deandre and this one is Antone” shaking both of their hands “nice to see you Rylee, see I said her name” EJ waved them off “so these are the last bitches that won’t get up but this Ebony, Deja and Asia” the girls waved at me so I waved back at them, they seem nice.

Taking my sheer top off before sitting down on the sun lounger, I like this place actually. Taking my shades off looking down at my phone seeing Chris has done the most with my phone “excuse me!” some guy shouted, his body towering over me and blocking the sun. Looking up at this white gentleman “drinks?” he said, looking at Tamia “bottle service hoe” she said, I was thinking what is this “get yourself a bottle if you want” I paused thinking “Ciroc Coconut please” I said to him, he nodded his head smiling at me. I didn’t even know they did this, looking down at my phone thinking if I should call him or let him suffer a little more but I feel bad. Sighing out, sitting back on the lounger “your body is so bomb girl” Tamia said, fixing my body chain on my stomach, looking up at Tamia “thank you” she turned her phone to me “you don’t mind this?” seeing the selfie she took of herself and me looking down “well I ain’t looking so I am good, not see my ugly face” she side eyed me looking away.

Touching my stomach, this sun is strong as fuck “come” Munchie hit my arm, watching her get into the pool. Fixing my shades getting up from the lounger “I am only putting my legs in there” I shouted over the music, hearing whistling behind me. Looking behind me touching the strings at the side of my pants as I did “who do you think you are!?” EJ shouted “she look like she is on a photoshoot” Antone said “you need to see it, come” he waved me over, turning around walking over to them. Looking down at EJ’ phone “ok I like that picture, send it me please” I do look good there “oh and call your man, he is driving me crazy” EJ said before grabbing my phone from the lounger, he is really doing the most “sent it!” EJ spat, unlocking my phone and tapping on EJ’ message “posting this right now! I love this picture” posting this of course, I look good so why not. Captioning the picture ‘My new personal photographer @EJstylist, it’s all about the angles! My summer is lit #Vegas’ posting the picture.

I yelped out as someone pushed me but then caught me “just playing” looking behind me, Antone sat next to me “don’t fuck with a girl and their weave nigga, it’s new. I can tell” Munchie made her way back over to us “you like it? I got it done like a week ago” touching my hair “it’s bomb as fuck girl, you need to show me where you get your bundles from actually” this is why I won’t go into the water, I also don’t really feel like doing my hair “bought you something” Tamia said bringing the shot into my eye-view “I have had one already, I am not about to have another” shaking my head “have another, come on” Munchie took hers “I don’t take well to shots” I really don’t “we trying to get fucked up and you’re say no, honestly” feeling someone stood behind me, looking up seeing Joe “Chris?” he pointed at his phone, shaking my head smiling “oh come on” he put the phone to his ear “she is busy drinking a shot” taking the shot from Tamia, playing with Chris can be dangerous actually. Downing the shot like I was a pro “yass!!” Munchie shouted.

Taking my phone from Deandre while sipping my Corona through a straw “where are you going?” hearing Joe speak, looking behind me and seeing Joe stop a guy “I can go anywhere, they don’t own it” the man shouted, this is awkward “I suggest you use another part, now move!” this is so awkward, looking away from Joe. Placing my bottle down at the side of me, my phone is full of notifications, I can’t stop it and it’s draining my battery. Unlocking my phone, tapping on my Instagram. Going onto my notifications and all I see is Chris and then more Chris “god” I said in a whisper “what is it?” Antone asked “Chris” that is all I said, tapping on my profile and going on to the picture of me in the bikini “holy shit, this has to be my most liked picture” I don’t know why I got so excited “the bikini one?” Tamia asked, nodding my head. Tapping on the comments, Chris is feeling the need to attack everyone that comments “oh shit” Antone laughed looking at my phone “Chris has written mine and then he put nigga that is mine fuck off, why are you commenting for? We ain’t homies anymore” I want to laugh but also it’s not funny, scrolling further up. This is what I didn’t want, Daniel posted saying wow and now Chris and him are going back and forth.

Pressing my phone against my ear, placing my feet in my slides. I need to speak to him somewhere a little more quiet “why are you calling me for?” he said, somebody is not happy “because I am, I was just annoyed that you keep paying out for me. I feel bad, that is all” looking behind me, of course Joe is following me. Walking into the ladies toilets “I don’t want you to feel bad, I gave you money because your my girl. What are you going to do when we married huh? You straight up ain’t working then” why is he doing this “right, whatever. Are you going to stop arguing with people in my comments? You look childish and it’s stupid” Chris scoffed “so not only are you ignoring me, you think I am childish and stupid? Whatever Rylee. You party up there and ignore me, you make me look stupid. Got me ringing EJ and shit because you won’t pick up” stood in front of the mirror looking at myself “nobody told you too! I didn’t say call everyone, you’re just so insecure about shit that don’t happen. Listen to me Chris and stop commenting on everyone post people put on the picture” I even wore this ring on my engagement finger but I am about to change that up “I ain’t stopping until I fight Daniel ok? I know where he lives too, how about that?” blinking several times “you being that stupid right now? I leave you and you act stupid, you’re so selfish Chris” he disconnected the phone on me.

He needs to calm the fuck down but also he is my man and he is just being stupid, one of the cubicle doors opened and I totally forgot I am in the toilets. It is just my luck that it is his baby mother, she glared at me and went to wash her hands, she just heard all of that. I know Chris said she is a bitch so I guess this will be talked about, I am not confrontational at all but it seems like she wants to fight me in a weird way. She walked by me and purposely hit into me “who are you hitting into?” I said turning around, the door opened seeing Munchie “you was in the way” she retorted “we have all this room and you decide to hit into me? I know you are built sideways but don’t fucking hit into me again got it? I ain’t even met you, let that fucking hurt go” I sound so angry but I am now that she has hit into me “well hey” Munchie said, the baby mother stormed out “I think she thought she could start on me, fucking bitch” I am so annoyed now, and Chris is stressing me the fuck out.

Pressing my phone to my ear calling Chris back “what?” why does he have this attitude with me “I am sorry ok? I don’t want to argue with you, I am sorry I ignored your calls. I am sorry so please drop it” even if Chris is not over it at least I said sorry to him “you saying sorry because you don’t want me to beat Daniel’ ass, you saw what he wrote. The guy is talking mad shit” Chris is working my last nerve “you know what Chris, I said sorry but call me back once you are over it. I love you and please be good ok?” no point in going back and forth with him “aight cool, bye Rylee” shaking my head in annoyance, he really acts out like this. Disconnecting the call, I wish I never came now “Chris will get over it sis, he is insecure and feels out of control. He does it with all the girls, he will learn” Munchie said as she got out of the cubicle “I am not just any girl, he said he loves me” I want to cry now, walking off to leave the toilets.

I guess something has made me happy, seeing Drake. What a blessing this is, I mean the guy doesn’t look all there but his music is so good. It’s wild how close he is to us, Drake has a lot of bodyguards though and it’s not worth me getting off this lounger. Munchie keeps looking at me smiling but I am feeling a little sad, first I hate being compared to the bitches he fucked with and then second of all I hate how he is being with me. Munchie was about to walk over to me but I jumped off the lounger once I heard Make Me proud “I love this song!” I screamed out with my drink in hand, I think everyone heard that and I also created attention to myself but I don’t care. I know this song word for work, standing next to EJ “I know things get hard but girl you got it, girl you got it, there you go. Can’t you tell by how they looking at you everywhere you go, wondering what's on your mind, it must be hard to be that fine when all these muthafuckas wanna waste your time it’s just amazing, girl, all I can say is. I’m so I'm so I'm so I'm so I'm so proud of you” I sang so passionately and then someone joined in but I don’t care who “ladies!” Drake shouted on the mic “All of them bitches I’m badder than, Mansions in Malibu” me and EJ sang to each other.

#Chrianna #Chrianna FF #Fanfiction

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