#but the rest is like a weeks long project (granted i dont work on it everyday)

[mrfutureboy]

*hasnt drawn much in the last few years, struggles with lineart and flat coloring art style*

*jumps into trying to render a near full-body image in complete color*

[andromedasstarship]

in the stars - chapter 1

photo credit: @ssahotchnerr

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader

warnings - canon-typical criminal minds violence, show rating 16+ for reference. depictions of violence, stalking, murder, angst, age gap couple, drinking, brief mention of drugs.

summary - You finally meet the BAU, little progress is made in terms of the case. 

a/n - early update yay! i take a lot of liberties with movies that reader has starred in, pls dont take irl movie release dates into consideration here lol. more notes at the end 

blog rules 

masterlist // read it on ao3 here 

prologue // next chapter 

-----

Chapter 1 

Flights to California always took an extra toll on the team. Reid had explained it once, in a too long ramble, how the wind worked against the plane lengthening the flight at least an hour longer than the trip back home. 

Hotch was finding it difficult to focus on the files in front of him. The first photo he opened was of victim #3, with her eyes closed and face turned to the side, even Hotch could’ve been fooled that it was you lying there dead. While the rest of the team was mulling over the facts of the case, he was debating whether or not to tell the team about your history. The Unit Chief in him knew this was important information that had the potential to hinder the case; his relationship to you was too personal and his withholding of information could even turn him into a suspect. If the roles had been reversed with another member of the team, he’d have concerns over their ability to even be on the case. For now, Hotch forced himself to tune into the conversation the rest of the team was having; promising himself he’d figure out what to do later. 

“Garcia, what do we know about L/N,” Emily asked, turning ever so slightly towards the screen Garcia had just popped up on. 

“I’m glad you asked my dear Emily. Y/N L/N is totally Hollywood’s It Girl right now, it’s rumored you can’t even get a meeting with her without forking over at least twenty big ones. She’s never had a bad role in her career. Personally, my favorite movie she starred in was Mamma Mia, but like I said never a bad role,” Garcia paused for a moment, the sound of her typing filling the silence, “is it inappropriate for me to ask one of you to get her signature for-”

“Garcia,” Rossi interjected, “anything else we need to know about her right now?” 

“Sorry sir, I promise to be on my best professional behavior. But come on, remember when she swept the Oscars three years-”

Hotch felt himself detach from the conversation yet again, staring out the window as memories of the two of you flooded his brain. 

Three Years Ago 

The team had just finished a grueling case in Georgia. It was long, taking nearly two weeks to catch the unsub, in which he had managed to murder three additional couples right under their noses. Inclement weather forced them to stay another night until the storm passed, leaving them all stranded by the airport. In a turnaround way, being stuck gave them the rare opportunity to relax and bond as a team. Rather than all disappear to their own rooms for the night, they all packed into one small hotel room. Boxes of Chinese takeout were littered around the room, along with various bottles of alcohol. The Oscars were on that night and Hotch knew you’d be on the screen at some point, not wanting to miss it he proposed watching it to the team and they all happily agreed. While it was difficult with their schedules to be avid movie goers, they all were relatively familiar with the contenders for big awards such as Best Picture and Best Actor. 

You were nominated for two separate awards that night, along with starring in a film nominated for Best Picture. It had been a monumental year for you, with three separate feature films hitting theaters and all becoming major successes both financially and socially. You had spent so much time jet setting for press conferences and movie tours that you rivaled Aaron in terms of suitcase living. 

“Everyone shut up! They’re about to do Best Supporting Actress, oh I just know it’s going to be Y/N. Emily agree with me! We saw her in Little Women together, I cried. Oh don’t give me that look Emily, you cried too and you know it!” Penelope said enthusiastically, waving her chopsticks around. It was rare that Garcia ever came with on a case, but the location had been in a remote part of the state and they wanted to avoid being unable to reach her and her technical wizardry; a fact she was particularly grateful for, had this watch party been happening without her, she would’ve been so jealous.  

To anyone else, the grin on Hotch’s face would have been easily equated to the bickering going on between his friends and the effects of the few drinks he had thrown back. It was all for you though, he had caught glimpses of you on screen throughout the night and had snuck more than one glance at his phone to see the pictures of your outfit you’d sent him yourself. When the presenters walked on stage, Hotch sat up a bit straighter, his body naturally inching closer to the edge of his seat. The screen set up so the faces of all nominees and their reactions could be seen, Hotch’s eyes glued to the box you were in. 

“And the winner of Best Supporting Actress goes to…,” the first presenter started, slowly opening the envelope they held, “Y/N L/N!” The crowd roared and the camera focused in on you sitting stunned in your seat, surrounded by coworkers and friends. The team was cheering too, the liquor in their system loosening everyone up. Hotch clapping uncharacteristically loud and long even went unnoticed by the others. 

“I was right, I knew it!! I should start betting on this, you know what I bet I could hack into the system-” Garcia’s voice barely even registered in Hotch’s brain as he watched you. With one hand clasped over your mouth and the other holding your dress you made your way up the stairs and to the center of the stage. 

“Wow,” you started, eyes wide as you stared down at the award in your hands, slowly you looked back up into the crowd and continued, “I really mean it when I say I wasn’t expecting this. I didn’t even prepare a speech, I’m so sorry,” you paused again, the biggest smile plastered on your face as you quickly wiped a few tears threatening to fall, “thank you all so much, for supporting me and letting me do what I love. Thank you to my fellow coworkers who pushed me in this project and thank you so much to the fans who give me the strength to do this every day. Thank you! Thank you so much!” You ended, making your way back towards your seat. Hotch grinned as you flashed a wide smile to the camera following you, throwing a flirty winky that he knew was just for him.

The rest of the night went by in a blur. When you won again for Best Actress, you were barely able to contain yourself on stage, tears flowing freely down your face as you gave your thanks. The joy you felt in that moment was unlike anything you’d ever experienced in your life. At just 24, you had become the first person ever to win both awards in the same night. Hotch had actually jumped out of his seat at your second win, a motion that confused the rest of the team, but the liquor in everyone’s system forced them to ignore it; more glad than anything to see Hotch loosening up for once. 

After the team finally retreated into their own rooms for the night, Hotch wasted no time in texting you, asking if you were free to talk on the phone. His excitement palpable when not even a minute later your contact came up on the screen. 

“Aaron,” your excited voice came through the phone, just being able to hear you eased tension he wasn’t even aware he had been carrying, “can you believe it!” 

“Congratulations, Miss Double Oscar winner.” Even after a year of being together, his voice made you giddy. “Where are you?” He asked, unable to ignore the pounding sound of music and people in the background. 

“After party, top secret location Mr. Agent. I’m in the bathroom! Am I allowed to tell you I definitely see some residue of a line on the counter,” your voice was slurred and rushed, the energy of the moment combined with the liquor in your system causing your mouth to move faster than your brain, “probably not, ignore that. Where are you?” 

Aaron relayed various info about closing the case and what the team had gotten up to that night. When you began telling him about your night, he couldn’t help but feel insecure. Where he told you about $8 takeout meals and rural Georgia, you were talking about some of the biggest names in Hollywood and the luxury treatment you’d been subject to all night. He forced himself to focus on your voice anyway; not wanting to take this time ‘with’ you for granted. The two of you could’ve talked for hours, had it not been for Hotch pushing you to go enjoy the celebrations. 

“I’m so proud of you angel,” he said softly, voice swelling with adoration, “I’ll see you soon, I promise.” 

“I love you Aaron.” 

“I love you too Y/N.” 

When he finally hung up, he leaned against the wall with a sigh, running his hands through his hair. Relationship wise, it had been a tough year for the two of you. With your schedule busier than you’d ever expected, it meant seeing each other in person was nearly impossible. In good conscience you refused to take him away from Jack on the rare weekends he had off. Instead you’d fly in whenever possible, the two of you spending low profile nights together in fancy hotels or his house if Jack was away with friends. It was excruciating maintaining a relationship like this, but something about the success of the night made the sacrifices feel worth it. 

Present Day

“Look into her dating history, any exes that would want to hurt her?” JJ asked, her question pulling Hotch back into the present. Adjusting to the constant publicity you were subject to had been a learning curve for Hotch, the first time the tabloids ran a story of you photographed with some Hollywood Hunk his bad mood had the entire team walking on eggshells for a week. 

“According to my search she hasn’t dated anyone in years, or at least not publicly. I have a theory she’s secretly dating Henry Ca-.” Hotch zoned back out before Garcia could finish, having no interest in hearing or seeing whoever the media was speculating to be involved with you this time. Willing the plane to land faster, he ignored the faint voice in the back of his head that was telling him you were free to be with whoever you wanted. 

----

“If you’d follow me Miss L/N, the BAU has set up in the back conference room, they’ve been waiting for you.” Officer Reynolds said, her back to you as you followed her down the hallway. It was nearly 9am and you had spent the better half of the morning hyping yourself up to see Aaron for the first time in nearly two years. You made last second adjustments to your outfit; an outfit you definitely hadn’t spent all of last night picking out because you definitely did not want to look good for Aaron Hotchner. As Officer Reynolds moved to open the door you held your breath, thanking the years of experience in manipulating your outward expressions. When four heads turned in unison to look at you, you let out a sigh of relief. Aaron wasn’t in the room. 

“This is Y/N L/N. Miss L/N, meet the BAU,” Officer Reynolds said, extending her arm outwards towards the rest of the room, “I’ll leave you guys to do introductions, if you need anything, find me,” and with that she exited the room. A blonde woman stepped forward first, extending her hand out to you. You knew who she was before she even said her name. 

“My name is Jennifer Jareau, I’m the media liaison with the BAU.” She said, she gave you the same smile all the other officers had been giving you, but unlike theirs that reeked of pity, something in Jennifer’s felt authentic to you. After shaking hands with her, the rest of the room took a moment to introduce themselves. You never thought you’d meet Aaron’s team like this. Over the years, he had shown you countless photos of the team, along with hundreds of stories and tidbits concerning their lives. Even though you knew they had probably spent the entire flight to LA looking at your life, it still felt as if you had some creepy advantage over the situation. 

“The rest of our team, Agents Hotchner and Morgan, are currently doing some research in the field, but until they return we’d love to brief you and ask you a few questions, is that alright?” JJ asked, stepping backwards and motioning for you to take a seat at the round table. 

“Of course,” you quickly replied, moving to take a seat; internally you were laughing at the irony of her asking if it was alright, what would you do, say no? Looking up at the other three members still standing you motioned for them to sit as well, “I don’t know if you’re doing it on purpose, but I’d prefer if you all sat down too,” you paused, before adding, “kinda makes me feel like I’m back at school.” They seemed to smile at that, everyone else moving to find a seat at the table. Before the silence could turn uncomfortable, JJ spoke up again. 

“Does anyone else in your life know about the murders?” 

You shook your head no before replying, “my agent knows just in case I have to go underground and my security guard is aware, but besides them and the police, I haven’t told anyone.” 

“Go underground?” 

“Uh yea, a few years ago I had a stalker. I went ‘underground’ for about three months and the guy seemed to give up. The police have already cleared him, he hasn’t been to LA in over a year,” you explained. 

“That’s good to know. We want to keep your involvement in the case completely out of the media. I can only imagine you want that too,” JJ started, angling her body towards you, “I know you’re probably more than well versed in dealing with the press, but if anyone comes up to you asking about the murders we want you to completely disengage. And of course, don’t tell anyone else about what’s going on.” 

“Alright, now that that’s settled, we just have a couple questions for you,” Emily asked as she stood up, opening up a file from the table, “so what can you tell us about-” 

----

The dump site wasn’t showing any promise. Situated near a highway, the field was hidden from the road, yet still accessible by car. The constant stir caused by the speeding cars meant any leftover DNA or footprints were effectively blown away. 

“Our guy’s gotta be fit. The drop into the field is just steep enough he would’ve had to carry the body at least fifty feet to get it here from the road. He could’ve rolled it, but the bodies were too pristine to have been dropped on the ground like that.” Derek said, looking over at Hotch. The two of them were standing at the edge of the road, looking down at the now empty field. “Not only that, but this is a nice spot. Normally places like this so close to a highway are filled with trash, do you think he might’ve cleaned up?” 

Hotch was silent as he considered this, before slowly nodding, “it’d make sense if he did. Everything we have concerning his treatment to the victims post mortem has been nothing but affectionate.” 

“Do you think there could be two unsubs?” Derek asked, when Hotch looked at him with mild confusion he continued, “All the victims were strangled to death, ME report assumes it was by hand. It takes a lot of strength and persistence to kill someone by hand like that, not only that but it’s intimate, he’s staring them in the face as he kills them. The level of care displayed here seems way more than just remorse.” 

Hotch took another moment to consider Derek’s proposition before shaking his head, “we’ll keep it in mind, but it’s clear whatever connection he has to L/N is personal, at least to him. These women could be failing to replicate some part of her personality and in his rage he kills them. But when they’re silent and unmoving, their likeness to L/N lets him fall back into the fantasy, hence the care.” 

“We should start heading back, Reid just texted me they’re almost done with the initial briefing with L/N, and we should meet her before she takes off for the day.” Derek said, putting his phone back in his pocket before turning on his heel to head back to the car. Hotch’s shoulders tensed at the idea of seeing you, looking back at the field once more. Giving the field one last look, he felt a shiver run up his spine at the idea of finding you in a field like this. Shaking the idea out of his, he turned to join Derek in the car. 

Hotch took the driver's seat, glad to be able to use the road as a needed distraction from the impending face to face. The drive was only twenty minutes, but Hotch didn’t think any time would truly be long enough to prepare himself to see you again. He found himself wondering if anything would be different from the last time he saw you. Did you still smell the same? You had always been quite adamant about your preference for scented lotion, rather than perfumes. What if you completely changed your hair? Were you worrying about seeing him as much as he was? 

“You think she’s gonna be easy to work with?” Derek asked, breaking Hotch out of his mental spiral. 

“What do you mean?”

“Y/N, you know, “Hollywood’s It Girl”,” Derek explained, “if she’s as in demand as Garcia said she was-”

“While we work this case Morgan, I expect you to conduct yourself appropriately,” Hotch interjected, his voice tight, “we treat Y/N the way we would anyone else, do I make myself clear?” His eyes not leaving the road at all, knuckles tight around the steering wheel. 

“Crystal,” Derek responded, raising his hands up in mock surrender. 

As they turned into the parking lot, Hotch scanned the parking lot before finally noticing your car parked in the back of the lot. You used to always park as far as you could, constantly complaining about how people in parking lots stressed you out and you wanted to be able to drive in and out as easy as possible. The corners of his lips turned up, ever so slightly, thinking maybe nothing had really changed for you, at least in that regard. 

“You go ahead, I’m just going to send a message to Jack real quick,” Hotch lied, pulling his phone from his pocket. Derek nodded and got out of the car, quickly entering the building. Hotch put his phone down in his lap and gripped the steering wheel once more. You were one of the few people to ever wind him up this way; it had been like that from the first day he met you, as if you managed to make him melt under your gaze. Five minutes, he would give himself five minutes to pull himself together before letting the Unit Chief in him take over. 

----

“I’m sorry, I just, can I take a break,” you asked, looking up at the agents who were still grilling you about facets of your life you never would’ve considered relevant, “I just need to get some air.” Without really waiting for permission, you were pushing back on your chair to stand up. Slinging on your thin jacket you exited the room, heading for the entrance of the building. The agents had been kind, but you were starting to feel a bit useless. Each time they had a new theory, you came up short in terms of material for them to actually use. They kept reassuring you that what you were able to come up with was helpful, but you weren't convinced. 

You had been in and out of this office so many times, your body went into autopilot as you made your way to the entrance, not even pausing to look up as you started to push open the door. What you missed was the distinct outline of a body pulling the door open at the same time. The added force made you stumble, nearly crashing straight into the man on the other side. Brown eyes met yours and you both froze, uncertain of what to say before speaking at the same time. 

“Y/N.”

“Agent.”

-----

a/n - wow wow! things are gonna start moving in the next chapter, i promise. the response to ‘in the stars’ so far has been so heartwarming. ive said it before, but this is my first fic and i cant even fathom that people are actually interested in what im writing. your support means the world! im trying to get stuff written before university starts up again, but i dont want to nix quality for faster updates so if updates slow down im sorry! comments always appreciated. leave a reply or ask if youd like to be added to the taglist! if you requested before but arent added, just ask again i mustve missed it on accident 

Taglist: @mac99martin​ @iwaizumiee​ @kylorendrip​ @hqtchner​ @lieswithoutfairytales​ @ssahoodrathotchner​ @midsummernightdream​ @weasleylovers​ @evans-dejong​

no permission is given to republish or upload my fics anywhere else. if you see this story not on my tumblr or ao3 it is stolen work. i do not own criminal minds or any of the characters involved

[ughgclden]

bee, love, don’t apologise, please, it’s okay, and first and foremost, are you alright?? i hope you’re taking care of yourself, love, but i understand, i don’t think there’s been a year since third grade that i haven’t gotten pneumonia in the winter. I hope you’re feeling alright!!

honestly, dead poets society is one of my only personality traits anymore, i find myself drawing parallels to it constantly, for no reason but i love thinking about it. i’ve watched it so many times at this point, it’s,,, concerning. those tests always take me way less time than they give me, and i used to feel really awkward, i remember i took a bio one once, four hours they gave me, 45 minutes in, i was finished, and the moderator didn’t believe me. i aced it too, like the silly little neil kinnie i am. i’ve gotten used to the ‘worse’ side of being a neil kinnie, and honestly, now that my mum isn’t as controlling about everything as she used to be, it’s easier to deal with. i remember once, i’d gotten an 89 in algebra, and she threatened to pull me out of the fall show. that was a neil perry moment if i ever had one lol. the biggest thing these days is just imposter syndrome, imposter syndrome like oh you’re not hispanic enough, but also, you’re not queer enough, nonbinary enough, things like that. It’s exacerbated some days, but i try.

i watched the it movies on my cousin’s hbo,,, i may or may not have used it without her permission since she forgot to log out of my computer, but that’s neither here nor there. i remember having such a hard time taking the first one seriously initially, because of all the new kids on the block jokes, having a mum who was obsessed with them made it hard, especially when i actually got them all- in truth, the only midnight premiere i’ve been able to make was the force awakens, and i had school the next day too. i’m definitely a richie kinnie, and i have the internalised homophobia (only towards myself though) to prove it /hj my waterbottle has both a sticker of neil on it and a sticker of the r + e carving on it. in case there was any doubt about me lmao. stan kin makes sense for you, honestly, i can see it, i can see it.

okay so listen- no really, i’d bought them with the intention of only drinking half of one that night and spreading them out like that, but then came 9:45pm, and i had a research paper (on womens’ pockets/lack thereof) due at 10am that i simply hadn’t even started, so i downed them all in an hour and got the paper turned in at 5:56 in the morning. but i scare you huh? /hj bee, you’re too sweet, in truth, i’m fairly inelegant, but i try, as for the comforting and cosy, i’ll take you at your word, since that is something only someone interacting with me could discern. i do try to be kind to others for the most part. mainly i think because i’m usually on the other end of mean people.

i’m just perceptive like that bee, i dunno what to tell you, something just tells me, you know? /j and thank you, i always feel a little silly talking about it, because most of the tattoos i want are dead poets society tattoos, i guess some part of me, within the part of me that feels so incredibly tied to it, feels as if if i were able to get a tattoo i’d owe it to the movie in some way, if that makes any sense. i’ve already begged a friend of mine to go with me to get my first once i get to new york, the question though, is what to get first. i’ve got time to make a decision (for once in my life) i just spend a lot of time thinking about it.

honestly, i have never known a school rule to make sense. banning ripped jeans? banning dyed hair? it’s almost as if if they don’t stifle everything natural about kids expressing themselves they dont feel like they’re doing anything. but i digress. the same-sex couple rules were. awful. 12 year old me had enough going on without having an administrator yell at my friend and i for hugging in the courtyard and not leaving until we were a foot apart, but hey.

okay, jumping over a fence to go to a mcdonalds? how coming of age indie movie manic pixie dream girl of you /hj

200k words, is that a challenge? also ahaha not at all like my italian uncle up there just opened a ‘pizzeria’ /hj but mob!star au? might be a project i should start… granted, i’m not as good a storyteller as you, but i can try.

when i was little, i wanted to revolutionise things, i guess. i even actually wrote out a campaign, i wonder if its still somewhere. thank you for believing in me, but these days, bee, i’m thinking less about changing the world, and more about making it the next few weeks, and then the ones after that. little star was aware of so much, but also so little. i wonder what they’d think of me now, honestly.

i did, in fact, teach archery, it was so fun but my arms got SO SORE, and the kid who challenged my archery skills seemed surprised when i actually,, hit the bullseyes. my inner susan was happy then. incidentally the experience is also why i made a playlist called “touchstarved and wanting to teach you to shoot a bow” which low-key slaps when i’m lonely. and bee omg i cannot believe you said im better than susan pevensie i will be thinking about this for the rest of my life thank you- and yes, yes it was named aslan, however did you guess? /j prince caspian<33333

i’ll let you know my results from the tournament, as soon as they come out, and i say this having just put on pjs after taking off my suit, and sitting in the room with my cat in my dear evan hansen hoodie, frantically refreshing the results page because i’m anxious and impatient.

i hope you have a good night, with fitful and restful sleep, i’m sorry this got to be so long, but you know me, i certainly can talk. i’m honestly shocked i even made it to finals, considering i was running off four hours of sleep, having gone to bed at three last night. whoops.

all my love, hugs, and a warm mug of tea,

yours,

star✨

p.s i said yes so that?? happened?? it honestly feels surreal but we’re not gonna be in the same place anymore come the end of this year, so that’ll be something to deal with

P.p.s might just start adding spanish or latin or russian phrases to these if i keep having to translate your cute french bee /lh /hj

star my love, i know you said don't apologise, but i think the word 'sorry' makes up about 60% of my vocabulary. i'm okay!! was just a bit icky, but luckily i've recovered now!!

that's so nice - and again, makes so much sense for you. i think you would work perfectly in welton, i know it. i love bringing the messages from that film into my own life, as silly as it may sound. i'm astonished, and so fucking jealous of you. i used to finish tests maybe half an hour early, but hours is so impressive??? fun fact i did finish my physics final in about 45 minutes and slept for the other hour <3 neil would b proud my love!!! oh my god - i'm so sorry that happened??? but that is also so neil kinnie??? it seems futile me saying this, but i assure you that you are hispanic enough, and queer enough, and non-binary enough. you are enough, period. more than enough even. imposter syndrome is the worst, and i'm so so sorry you're dealing with it.

she did that to herself, you just saw an opportunity /lh a midnight premiere of the force awakens sounds so cute though omg - i hope you had the absolute best time. the r + e carving actually broke me. as a die hard reddie shipper since 2017, seeing the movie make it basically canon?! had me a mess in the cinema.

you are ridiculously comforting and cosy, everything about you feels like a warm hug from a familiar face and i love it. and the way you write is so smooth, it makes me think of a quill smoothly gliding across parchment, the deep black ink unsmudged and pristine. that seems a little pretentious of me, but oh well.

i also want some dps tattoos!! i desperately want "and still we sleep" from todd's poem, and was also so so tempted to get an outline drawing of meeks + pitts dancing on the roof. i love that, and i can't wait until the day you get it, whichever one it may be. my one concern is becoming addicted to them and making my bank account suffer - at least my piercing obsession is a little easier to fund /hj

i've NEVER gotten that - they claim it's 'distracting' but how on earth would it be?? when i got to college, no one was distracted by my dyed hair, and i certainly wasn't distracted by other people's outfits or painted nails. you were yelled at. for hugging. a friend.. what the fuck is wrong with these people??

just call me ramona flowers star /j it was possibly the highlight of my school career, sans hiding in the back room of the music room to avoid a maths test

i bet you're an amazing storyteller, if these letters are anything to go by. it would be a new york times best seller, i know it

we all have to take things one step at a time, i think. that's the only way i really get through things if i'm honest. one day after another and the cycle repeats. i love wondering what young me would think of me now - i'd probably be intimidated of myself, but i like to think i'd be proud that i'm still here, pursuing something i love

that playlist. sounds nothing short of sheer perfection. i too am touch starved and want to teach someone to shoot a bow - even though i.. cannot shoot a bow... but i can wield a sword so, it's close enough.

i saw your message about the tournament results - im so fucking proud of you!!!! you deserve it so so much and i couldn't be happier for you. see, your words and ideas are changing the world, even if you don't realise it.

ps; that is so fun???? omg im so happy for you star, you deserve tis <33 i hope towards the end of this year whatever happens leaves you both happy, no matter how far the distance.

pps; omg no.. please don't do that.. aha that would be awful... definitely wouldn't make my heart race.. haha not at all

all of my love, star. pardon the pun, but you are out of this world ;) i'll leave you with one of my favourite quotes;

il n'y a qu'un bonheur dans la vie, c'est d'aimer et d'être aimé <3

[jenweeklyreview]

2nd Week July

I spent as much time on youtube as I did doing project work. It’s not consistent income. At the moment, I want a high skilled job where i can choose to work maybe one or two months a year and do whatever I want for the rest. Again, goes back to something technical or in the know. 

Work I’ve looked into in the past: grant writer, curator, developer - it’ll come down to specific skills, leverage, and accountability. 

I’m going to continue doing art. That fuels me. I still get in my way but I’m happy doing it. 

What went well this week: starting to measure how much youtube i watch. It doesn’t mean to stop, but seeing the number and feeling what I feel when I start the timer shows how much I actually want to watch something. I loved listening to all those Miley Cyrus covers. But I don’t need all those podcasts. Working with friends and setting up video chats also helps. Social interaction makes me feel loved. 

What didn’t go well: Missing meditation or working out. I dont have to do the whole thing, but committing to at least 5 mins of each helps me get back into the habit. Also, eating that second round of McDonald’s. That made me sick. The bun smelled like vomit. Fries were the usual godsend. But I dont need anymore McDonalds. Glad I got the second round anyway. 

What could go better: I get paralyzed without long term goals. I need a realistic goal alongside my artistic goals. I already do have a job that supports me while I do art, but I deal with the constant fear that it could go away. Even though I have savings and would be fine, i’m always scared. 

[hollowtreesinhollowwoods]

An Invitation

CW: mentions of depression, some mild language like... once, but just so you know uwu

It had been a while since anyone had seen B. They hadn’t come to anything in the past two weeks. Not to lunches, not to parties, not to walks, not video calls--or heck, even just phone calls. They were “busy”, they said. 

But A didn’t believe it.

B was a people person. They’d always been a people person. If they had homework to do, they’d arrange a study session with C. C had to reassure A several times that they hadn’t done anything like that in the past two weeks. B’s work life was practically flourishing. They had a huge following and art prints on sale that were sure to sustain them for a while, though they made new ones even still. The latest were even more complicated and beautiful than the ones before, which prompted A to wonder if they’d just become more passionate about their work, but... No matter how many excuses A came up with in their head, something about this didn’t feel right. B had always been a people person.

What had changed?

Staring down at a single message on their phone’s lock screen, A frowned. 

B: sorry still busy cant call rn 

So they’d been so busy they didn’t have time to talk, taken time to see the phone call, opened up messages and sent that? What if B was just in the bathroom? A’s thoughts argued. What if they’re piled with so much work they’re drowning in it and you’re here begging for the precious time they have free?

A opened up messages, typing and deleting and re-typing messages. This wasn’t like B. They finally settled on something.

A: Still busy?

B: yes sorry

        A shifted uncomfortably, wondering how to articulate... then deciding.

A: Can you call me?

A: Even for like five minutes? You’re really worrying me.

B: sorry I really wish I could

A: Fine then. I’ll come over.

B: what? no its okay

B is typing...

B: really lol tbh it’s kept me from getting bored

A is typing...

A: We haven’t seen you in two weeks. I’m gonna bring over food, kay? How about sushi?

B: seriously dont I’ll feel bad A >:P

A’s frown deepened. B had a seriously hard time turning down their favorite food.

A: That settles it.

B is typing...

They powered off their phone, slipping it into their pocket, and grabbing their car keys as they slipped out the door. A was prepared for whatever welcoming they’d receive when they got there. Maybe an annoyed but overly grateful B piled high with commissions or homework or a home project that A had misinterpreted. They doubted that was what they would find, but their mind had no clear picture of what they really thought was going on, other than that it was bad.

They sighed, sitting down in the driver’s seat and starting the engine.

----------

“B?” A walked in through the garage door. They’d become good enough friends that they knew each other’s combinations, so they’d often come to visit out of the blue... at least, before this.

A didn’t receive any response as they walked in, though. They advanced. “B? You alright? I brought the sushi--” they walked into the kitchen to set it down for a minute, but stopped short in shock. The dishes were nearly overflowing both sides of the sink. Empty cereal boxes and chip bags were stuffed forcefully into the garbage, which itself was in need of emptying. Soggy towels were scattered throughout the area.

In short, the place was a mess.

A turned uneasily towards the hall. On one side was the bathroom, and on the other was their room. A heard a strange noise, and it took them a minute to recognize it as a sniffle. A set the food carefully down beside the door and hurried in.

They nearly tripped over a pile of laundry as they did so. Stumbling to regain their balance, A sniffed, wrinkling their nose. The room smelled musty, like the door had hardly been opened. Laundry piled high in the room, paper plates and plastic utensils sat at the end of their desk, soda cans sat between books and pencils, a single plate of half-eaten pie sat beside their laptop, and B sat in the middle of it all. For a second, their puffy, red, tear-stained face drifted over to look at A’s, but they turned away, silent.

“B, what’s wrong?” A came forward, bewildered. Why didn’t I come sooner? Why didn’t I realize something was up?

B didn’t answer, only turned further away from them, but not before A could see their eyes brim with tears. They took a careful breath through their mouth.

A turned their chair around, taking their shoulders. “B, what the hell happened?”

B couldn’t look them in the eyes. Tears were rolling down their face, their mouth pressed shut, and an involuntary whimper slipped out. They sniffled again, blinking rapidly.

“Please? Please tell me, B... If there’s anything I can do to help...” A felt their own eyes sting, their heart aching from the hurt that B hadn’t told them about this before. Were they a bad friend?

“But it’s stupid,” B rubbed their eyes, shaking their head as their voice trembled. “It’s such a stupid thing... It doesn’t even matter but I’m--”

“B,” A got down on their knees. “It matters to me.”

B sniffled again, grabbing some tissues and wiping their eyes as a sob slipped out. “I just... my dog... yesterday...”

“X? Did he get lost?” A asked. “I can help you--”

“They had to put him down.”

A paused. They thought for a moment. It wasn’t a silly thing, but it definitely wasn’t what they’d expected. B had gotten X a long time ago to help with depression. A hadn’t noticed the absence, but now that B pointed it out, their heart fell. A had never owned any pets, so they had no way of knowing, but...

“I told you it was stupid... I... it’s just he... I’ve had X so long I forgot what it was like being so... like not having... having...” they let out another sob, wiping their eyes feebly with a tissue. “It’s like... losing your best friend... and then you wish you didn’t take the-them for granted and-and you-ou feel so--”

Alone. A knew what that felt like.

B was interrupted as A pulled them up into a hug, wrapping them up tightly and stroking their back with one arm. For a second, B just stood there, but then they crumbled, sobbing into A’s shoulder. When they finally pulled away, A led them out of their room, picking up the food and handing it to B.

“You sit and eat that,” B said, leading them to the couch. “I got the dragon roll... hope that’s still your favorite,” they said, wiping their own tears away and taking a deep breath. “I’m gonna tidy up.”

“A, you don’t have to do my chores--”

“B, I want to help. And you need it. Now you sit and eat and don’t worry about a thing. I’ll make you some tea, too. You want some tea?”

B sniffled, but offered a small nod after a moment.

“Alright,” A said, smiling and nodding back.

----------

“B, you know I’d move mountains if it meant it would make you feel better?” A said, pulling them closer. They wiped a tear from their face with their thumb. The sound of the dish washer and the laundry machine formed a rhythm, and the room was chilly from the windows A had opened to get fresh air flowing.

B didn’t respond at first, merely sipping their raspberry tea and sniffling again.

A lightly squeezed B’s shoulder, and they looked up. After a minute, they responded reluctantly, their eyes looking down at the floor. “...mhm...”

“Like... I don’t know, just seeing you every day or getting to see you smile just makes me happy. It makes me so happy when I help you. So please don’t feel guilty for it. You deserve attention and help, too,” A said.

After a long moment, B uttered in a small voice, “...Okay.”

B set their tea down on the table, sighing and resting their head on A’s shoulder. Then, within minutes, they’d slipped off. A laid B’s head carefully on their lap and sighed, stroking their hair and fixing their blanket, dabbing their face gently with a tissue to wipe off the tear tracks.

A listened to their gentle breaths, which occasionally shuddered, then leaned down and planted a chaste kiss on their forehead.

[dreadhaus-literature]

{Story} Cold Comfort

What’s a mortician to do when the love of their life is just out of reach? A temporary replacement is just cold comfort for the time being. It can’t last, after all—

True love never dies.

Chapter One

A Dreadful Dalliance sits at the end of a long, forested road, the gate-keeper to a sprawling cemetery that will eventually be the resting place of every soul in New Senzannini. The Mortuary has been in operation for nearly a decade and has earned it’s sterling reputation as a thoughtful, caring place to bring your loved ones for their last rites and a compassionate send-off to the next stage of life. Owned and operated by Dot Dreadful, the Mortuary handles all post-mortem operations, from the preparation of the departed to the funeral arrangements, and though the morgue is fully staffed with plenty of attentive, devoted staff, there’s only one mortician on staff--Dot. Now that the owner of the Dalliance was growing too pregnant to be on her feet, or surrounded by the chemicals necessary to do her job, it left a gaping hole to be filled or New Senzannini’s only mortuary was going to be temporary closed. That wasn’t an option, and that left Dot Dreadful with only one alternative.

“You’re hiring a temp?” Felina Frenzy, known more intimately by her birth name Monica, glanced up at her best friend with a curious tilt of her head. “Do they even have temporary morticians?”

Dot Dreadful didn’t glance up from the stack of papers in her hand; there was so much involved in handing her business over while she was on maternity leave and she should have started preparing for this months ago. “Ah, yes and no. It’s something of an unspoken code that you help out a fellow mortician if they need it. We often consult with each other on difficult preparations or if one of us is handling a coroner’s report dealing with suspicious circumstances. That sort of thing.”

Monica nodded, turning back to the training manual in her lap. “Were you able to find someone to help you out?”

“The city coroner offered but he’s...” Dot paused in her reviewing, glancing up at the ceiling. “How do I put this diplomatically...he does as well as one would expect a coroner to do when dealing with living, breathing bodies after he spends all day with cold, dismembered corpses.”

Monica laughed, nodding. “Makes sense. So he wouldn’t be any good handling the people aspect of the job.”

“Definitely not.”

“I mean, you know I’m always fine to help you out,” Monica crossed one leg over the other, meeting Dot’s gaze over her desk. “But I don’t know why you think I’m going to be any better handling the people aspect of your job.”

“You’re better with people than you think, you just don’t like them.” Dot turned back to her lists. “I don’t like people either but I manage this job just fine. You’ll be a peach, you always are.”

“...But you’re not expecting me to do the hack and slash part of the job, right?” Monica ventured. She didn’t and wouldn’t tell Dot no, but it wasn’t like she had the technical training to prepare a corpse for burial.

Dot shook her head. “Not at all. I thought of a compromise. Since you offered to help where you could, I figured you could handle the managerial side of things, keep the staff running smoothly, sort of...just sit in this chair right here.” Dot patted the arm of her desk chair. “You’d be the boss, supervising the day to day operations, and I’d hire on a temporary mortician to solely be responsible for the more hands-on part of the job. You guys would tag-team it.”

Monica looked thoughtful before she nodded. It seemed a solid enough plan. “But the city coroner wasn’t interested in working that way?”

“Roger’s a decent guy, but he’s also been the city coroner for like, eighty years,” Dot exaggerated dryly. “He wants to work this alone, and I just don’t trust him to handle the entire process. I’m not going to ask you to try and deal with his gross man ego while you’re doing me a favor, holding this place down while I’m off.”

“I would have been fine, Dottie.” Monica closed the lid of the training binder, handing it back to Dot since the woman as still adding pages to the already thick instruction manual. “I’m not unused to men’s egos.”

“I know, love, it’s not about you not being able to handle it, but more why would I subject you to that when you’re doing me a favor? Especially since I was able to find a mortician who had no problem with staying below and just prepping the bodies for you.”

To Monica, that sounded reasonable enough and why wouldn’t it be? A Dreadful Dalliance has been Dot’s first baby, but now that she had actual babies on the way she needed help taking care of her “firstborn”. Monica had been friends with Dot for years, since before the Mortuary, so of course she’d been here through it’s conception and it’s construction, and it’s subsequent years of operation. How many hours had she spent with Dot in this office, working on her own projects? Being a novelist and illustrator afforded Monica plenty of freedom to set her own schedule and since her newest literary masterpiece was circulating and topping lists, she had some much earned downtime--granted one might not consider managing a mortuary as “downtime” but Monica knew the staff here was pretty much self-sufficient and short of just sitting in here and being present should any emergencies present themselves, it really wouldn’t be too taxing. Dot had spent the last couple weeks preparing that thick manual for Monica to have and she’d also insisted Monica call her if need be. Dot may be approaching the bed rest phase of her pregnancy but that didn’t mean her vocal chords didn’t work--Monica didn’t say this, but she was going to do whatever she needed to not have to call Dot. She wanted to do this, to help Dot out when she needed it, and with Dot taking care of the second part of her job with finding a temporary mortician, it all seemed to be falling into place without a hitch.

“When do they start?”

Dot reached over for her desk phone. “They already have, actually.” She pressed the intercom, connecting her to the morgue in the basement. “Can you come up to my office please, Glad?”

“Can do, Miss Dreadful!”

The chipper reply to Dot hadn’t been what Monica was expecting, especially coming up from the dark, cold recesses of the morgue. She actually blinked in surprise, but Dot just flashed her a smile and turned back to scribbling last minute notes in the margin of the list in her hand.

A scant few minutes later and there was a knock on Dot’s office door before the new hire let himself in and Monica got her first look at the partner she’d be working with over the next several weeks.

“Monica, this is Gladwyn Charles. Gladwyn, this is my closest friend and your new boss, Monica.”

The man Dot named was still in the process of ducking into the room when she made the introductions, his impressive height making the frame of the door a little bit of a hazard. He was wearing a floor length black latex apron but all that did was elongate his already tall frame even further; it stopped at his ankles, revealing polished black dress shoes that were a compliment to his black slacks and the white button-up dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He had on a bow-tie that was red rather than black, and that fiery crimson adornment drew Monica’s eyes further up to the same blaze of red that surrounded his head like a halo. Gladwyn Charles was a true redhead, his hair the color of blood, a stain of rose around his pale skin and he wore it long, braided and over his broad right shoulder. it nearly reached his waist, but it seemed even the braid couldn’t tame all the wavy strands, as curls sprang free to frame his square features, brushing the hollow of his freckled cheeks. Gladwyn had a dusting of freckles not unlike stars across the bridge of his nose and the crest of his cheeks, bringing Monica’s gaze to his long lashes and the deep, rich forest green of expressive bright eyes. His glasses were perched a little low on his nose; the frames were silver and square, fashionable and sleek, but Gladwyn’s smile didn’t speak of arrogance that came with wealth. The smile was big and bright, but as Monica continued to stare at him it only seemed to grow...bigger, brighter, reminding her of an animal baring it’s teeth. It was almost aggressive, his smile was so prominent, but nothing dangerous reflected back at her in those eyes--eyes that were riveted to her face. Gladwyn didn’t even turn when he closed the door, keeping his gaze on Monica as he pushed the door closed with one long-fingered hand.

“Ah, Miss Frenzy. It’s an honor to finally meet you,” Gladwyn made a show of wiping his hand one final time on his slacks before offering it to Monica. “Miss Dreadful has told me so much about you. I feel like I already know you.”

Monica stood to take Gladwyn’s offered hand. “M...Monica, please. And your name is...?”

“Gladwyn.” He laughed a little sheepishly, but still hadn’t taken his eyes off hers. “I know it’s a little unusual. You can call me Glad if you’d like. Or Charles, or Charlie. Even Smiley!”

From her desk, Dot’s eyebrow rose. “Smiley?”

“It’s a nickname from college.” Gladwyn answered Dot, eyes still on Monica as he kept hold of her petite hand. “Because I smile all the time.”

Monica would have ventured to bet it had more to do with Gladwyn’s smile being...hard to forget. It was almost painfully wide, as if he were the world’s nicest man. She gave Gladwyn’s hand a firmer shake, and though he released her hand...she felt the reluctance. She’d let his hand go several dozen seconds before he finally released her, but she tried to push that from her mind. Dot had warned her years ago that morticians were sometimes...odd. Like those who work in IT, only certain people want to play with the dead all day long; typically it’s those who don’t play well with the living. Gladwyn was probably just a little awkward from interacting with those who can’t interact back, day in and day out.

“Nice to meet you, Gladwyn.” Monica stressed his name, ensuring she said it right. Gladwyn’s eyes brightened.

“I assure you, Miss Frenzy, the pleasure’s all mine.”

“Monica, please.”

Gladwyn paused, his throat working before he spoke, inclining his head down in a show of respect and slight reverence. “...Monica.”

With Gladwyn much closer, Monica was able to discern even more from the tall mortician--like his tattoos. She could see at least four, though three of them were thick black bands on his left wrist, leading up to his elbow. When he finally turned to face Dot, Monica was petite enough to see there was a smiley face tattooed behind his right ear. Smiley really did seem to be a moniker that fit this unusual mortician. Gladwyn was tall and thin, but he wasn’t without some muscle mass. Now that he was closer, Monica could see his forearms and biceps laced with sinewy muscle, likely from lifting dead weight all day, and though his slacks left a little more to the imagination she assumed his entire frame was the same way., and she’d felt for herself how strong his hands were. Gladwyn was definitely not what came to mind when one thought of the word mortician; well, except for that smile. That was not a normal man’s smile, but Monica also couldn’t put her finger on what was wrong with it. Did he smile with too many teeth? Was it just too...eager? She shook her head slightly as if to clear it, moving to take her seat again--almost startled back into standing with Gladwyn extended his arm to help her into her seat before he took the chair next to her. When she looked up at him, intending to thank him, he smiled at her and her voice died in her throat. Eager was definitely a good word to describe Gladwyn’s smile.

Little did Monica know, but eager was a good word to describe Gladwyn Charles as a whole. The Dalliance’s newest hire initially comes across to others as unassuming, even if he was on the tall side with a head full of long, flaming curls. Gladwyn never minded that he had a tendency to blend in a little in the background; he’s perfectly fine with allowing someone else the spotlight because he’s a perfectly polite gentleman. Nice guys may finish last but Gladwyn would happily smile in the face of anyone quipping that at him with a, “True, but the tortoise always beat the hare, didn’t he?” before turning back to the task at hand. Gladwyn has gone through life with the intelligence to understand human nature, and the self-awareness to know he doesn’t always fit in. He’s aware he’s a little awkward but that awareness also allows him to fake it, to cover his tendency to make others uncomfortable with a self-deprecating joke or by being so polite others simply can’t be rude to him. If one were to ask Gladwyn he’s not sure why others are so put off by his smile; he thinks his smile looks just fine! After all, he practices in the mirror. His teeth are straight and white, and his eyes sparkle a little when he smiles--so what could possibly be wrong with him? Friends in the past have told him he just looks a little “creepy” or “crazy” when he smiles, to maybe try not smiling so widely...but if he’s happy, why shouldn’t he smile with all his teeth? For all his intelligence, Gladwyn can’t figure some aspects of human nature out, and that was one of them. Being too eager, too friendly, too clingy was perceived as a bad thing and he just didn’t understand that. That was why none of his friends ever stuck around for long. That was why none of his previous relationships ever worked out. Gladwyn simply cared too much. He was simply too eager.

Gladwyn slowly lowered himself into the chair across from Monica, eager green eyes devouring her in a way he knew he had to get under control, it wasn’t socially acceptable for him to stare this long but it was an enormous struggle. He’d never seen anyone so beautiful before in his entire life. Dot had told him a lot about Monica, he’d listened with his usual attentiveness but now, now he was calling upon his memory for every single detail from his previous conversations with his employer for the tiniest morsel he could glean about Monica. Even as his mind worked, his eyes did their job in committing everything he could about her to memory; her bone structure was impeccable, feather-light and delicate, and he ran his tongue over his suddenly dry lips at the urge to pepper kisses along her jaw just to follow that tempting line to her throat. Monica sat like an empress in the high-backed chair, her posture so regal he felt the urge to shy away, to shrink back because he didn’t deserve to be so close to her...but how could he not be? Who could possibly stand to be away from such an ethereal creature? Was she even real? Gladwyn’s long fingers pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, the focused lenses providing him with further admirings to commit to memory. Their eyes were the same color, green, but hers were brighter than his, a feminine compliment to his masculinity that made his heart skip a beat in his chest. Her hair was short, a bob that complimented her profile so devastatingly he had to slowly grip his fingers along the arm of his chair to stop from wanting to touch her hair. It shimmered, caught the office lights as if flirting with him, teasing him with how soft it must feel.  And he knew how good she smelled; he caught the wisps of her perfume to the moment he’d stepped into the hallway outside the office and now that he was close enough to scent her effortlessly he focused on dragging the scent of her into his lungs, desperate to commit the scent to memory so he’d be able to recall it at will.

The simple act of meeting had never been so poignant to Gladwyn before in his entire life. How many hundreds of people had he met in his decades of life? None of them compared to this, none of them had ever affected him like this, like Monica. He knew her name was Felina to the public but she’d told him to call her Monica, the same name Dot was able to call her...that must mean something. To Gladwyn, it did. She’d shaken his hand, smiled at him and insisted, twice, that he call her by her birth name. A name intimate, known only to family and friends...that included him, now. How nice of her! How sweet...who would have thought a woman so beautiful, so stunning, would also be so kind?

“Gladwyn?”

The older mortician blinked behind his glasses, before turning to Dot. “Y-Yes? I’m...terribly sorry, I must have spaced out.”

Dot laughed, eyebrows raised. “You are wearing a face mask down there, right? Those are some pretty strong chemicals we work with.”

Gladwyn took the easy out with a gracious laugh, his rich tenor a compliment to that ever-present smile on his pale face. “Yes, of course, of course. A thousand pardons, what were you saying?”

“I was saying, Monica is the one I was telling you about, who will be sitting in my chair here while you’re working down in the morgue. She’ll be handling the operations, managing the rest of the staff and funeral arrangements. She’s got full authority and she knows how this place should run,” Dot looked between Monica and Gladwyn with a smile. “And love, Gladwyn has been familiarizing himself with the morgue downstairs over the past few days, shadowing me, and shouldn’t have any problems handling the hack and slash part of the job.”

Gladwyn cleared his throat slightly, his red brows pulling in at the center as a barb of jealousy seared across his chest. He’d known Dot for a couple weeks, knew her to use terms of endearment liberally and it had never bothered him before, but just now, her use of love directed at Monica rose like bile at the back of his throat. He didn’t particularly like that...and he didn’t particularly understand why.

Monica and Dot were both unaware of Gladwyn’s inner turmoil and confusion, mistaking his throat clearing and the shifting in his seat as mere fidgeting. Monica nodded, returning Dot’s smile before she turned it to Gladwyn.

“Shouldn’t be too much of a problem to keep this place running smoothly while Dot’s gone, right?”

“Hm?” Gladwyn locked gazes with Monica before that smile of his returned in full force. “Oh, I highly doubt it. You seem a very capable woman, Mis--er, Monica.”

Monica’s laughter was a touch nervous at the compliment, most especially coupled with the sincerity behind Gladwyn’s glasses. He held his smile while he held her gaze, and Monica had to resist the urge to blush under such open attention. He was certainly a...nice guy.

“I drew up manuals for both of you while I’m gone, and Gladwyn I told Monica to reach out to me if you guys run into any problems.” Dot tapped Monica’s manual on her desk; Gladwyn’s was down in the morgue and he’d already been making use of it. “The Staff has already been prepped to treat the two of you as co-owners while I’m gone, so you shouldn’t have any issues there either.”

“Seems you really have thought of everything, Miss Dreadful.” Gladwyn sat back in his seat; his gaze appeared to be on Dot...but he was watching Monica out of the corner of his eye.

“I highly doubt it,” Dot replied, resting her chin on her hand. “But, I trust Monica and with you here to help her, Glad, hopefully it won’t be too rocky for her.”

“You have my word, I’ll look out for her.” Gladwyn’s smile was once again aimed at Monica. “She’ll be in good hands.”

A nervous flutter of butterflies rushed up Monica’s ribcage and she had to look away; Gladwyn was clearly a man who wore his heart on his sleeve and the genuine show of emotion in his eyes, on his face, made her nervous. Who was so nice this early on? Was it possible for someone to just...be this kind? It had to be, because here he was, giving her a million-watt smile with promise written all over his face.

“Then I guess there’s only one thing left to do.”

Monica took the reprieve where it was offered, looking up at Dot. “What’s that?”

Dot gave her a smile, looking between Monica and Gladwyn with her hands out in a gesture. “How about dinner?”

The Tower was a high-end restaurant with an established clientele, but there was nowhere New Senzannini’s literary elite and established death beautician couldn’t eat if they wanted to. There was no need for a reservation and the trio were ushered from the hostess podium to the best table in the restaurant, immediately; afforded their privacy but with attentive staff at the ready. Dot eased down into her cushioned seat with a sigh of relief to be off swollen ankles but it was something Monica missed, because Gladwyn was standing beside her chair with it pulled out for her, gesturing to it with that curious smile of his. She offered him a nervous but grateful smile in return as she slowly sat down, startled at how easily he settled her against the table. Even for the muscle she’d seen he was stronger than he looked, but Gladwyn would argue she weighed next to nothing at all. He had half a mind to order for her to ensure she was even eating enough; a thought that darkened his brow as he settled into his own chair to Monica’s left. Now that they were out of the Mortuary, Monica could see all of him as he was out of his apron and he filled out his tailored suit well. He’d also rebraided his hair before coming out and with his wealth of hair pulled back from his face in an elegant french braid, Monica had to admire Gladwyn. He was a handsome man. As if sensing her staring, he turned to face her, his smile catching the ambient lighting and she had a new appreciation for his bone structure, the way the shadows flirted with the hollows of his cheeks, the high cut of his brow.

“I’ve never eaten here. Have you?”

“A-Ah, a few times,” Monica nodded. “I’m...surprised you haven’t.”

“Why’s that?” Gladwyn’s head tilt reminded her of a puppy.

“You...well, don’t mind me saying so but you look like you come from money.” Monica was hopeful the low lighting of the intimate restaurant hid her blush well enough as she moved her napkin to her lap.

“Why would I mind such a sweet compliment?” Gladwyn’s voice was rich and warm as he regarded Monica. “I do, come from money, but I don’t get out much. Surely Miss Dreadful has explained we morticians don’t keep much living company?”

Monica couldn’t help the laugh. “I a-am her only friend.”

“Hey hey,” Dot snapped her cloth napkin before pointing between the two of them. “That is a thousand percent by choice. Other people are the worst.”

“I’m not gonna argue with that,” Monica put her hands up, but as she moved to take the menu from their waiter, she was surprised to momentary silence when Gladwyn reached over, took her menu, and then handed it to her. “T-Thank you.”

“Of course.” Gladwyn’s tone was still warm, amiable, but he cut his eyes to the waiter as if daring the other male to say something. When the server cleared his throat and turned his attention to Dot, Gladwyn returned his gaze to Monica and his entire posture relaxed. His smile had never wavered.

The entire premise of dinner between the three had been Dot’s way of breaking the ice between her best friend and the new hire at the mortuary. She didn’t want to leave Monica with this new mortician for hours and hours a day, for weeks, perhaps months, without forming a sort of tentative relationship between the two, for Monica’s comfort level more than anything else. Part of why she’d hired Gladwyn was because he was such a nice guy. She’d called every colleague, boss, and even two of Gladwyn’s college professors to run him through the wringer to make sure he came out squeaky clean but every test Dot put him through, he passed. Everyone had something nice to say about Gladwyn, that he was an eager student, a polite co-worker, a diligent employee. He never called in sick, he never had any brushes with the law; hell, one of Gladwyn’s old employers stated he actually said, “Please,” and “I’m sorry,” to corpses if he mishandled them or when he needed to do something particularly invasive. Gladwyn was polite to a fault, and he was a certified nice guy. Granted, a couple people had mentioned his smile giving them the creeps, and Dot had to admit there was something a little off about it, but you can’t judge a guy by his smile, right? Besides, finding a mortician who wasn’t considered at least a little creepy was like finding a needle in a haystack. Dot had interviewed enough fish-eyed weirdos to know, Gladwyn was as good as she was going to get on such short notice. Judging by the swelling in her ankles just from the walk from the Mortuary to her truck and then into the restaurant, Dot was days away from being confined to bed--so as the saying goes, beggars can’t be choosers.

Still, Dot lifted her water glass to her mouth as she looked between Monica and Gladwyn; they seemed to be hitting it off well. Gladwyn’s smile was a prominent thing, Dot noticed he really did smile all the time, but it seemed different when he looked at Monica. Dot noticed things like this, she paid attention, but it didn’t raise any alarm bells. He simply seemed to really enjoy Monica’s company and honestly who wouldn’t? Dot had been friends with the other woman for over a decade; she knew the kind of effect Monica had on others and even if Monica would deny it to her grave, Dot knew better. Gladwyn was proof enough; the man was hanging off her every word. Dinner would be the first step to solidifying a good relationship between the two, and as long as this went well, Dot would be confident in going on maternity leave knowing her best friend, and her place of business, were in good hands.

“So, I know plenty about you Gladwyn but Monica doesn’t,” Dot turned to the duo as the waiter took their drink orders to the bar. “Why don’t you tell her a little about yourself?”

Gladwyn would have opened a vein to get Monica to talk about herself, but he swallowed that graphic visual with that smile of his, moving his hands to his lap as he nodded a few times, his attention swiveling to Monica effortlessly. “Well, what about you like to know?”

Monica blinked a few times, unsure what to ask. She floundered a little before blurting out. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Corpse blue.”

Gladwyn dropped his reply like a body onto the table, so serious in his delivery that Monica was left staring at him, her eyebrows slowly creeping upward. “R-Really?”

“Oh, no!” Gladwyn shook his head with a rich laugh. “I’m sorry, no, that was a little mortician humor. It’s just blue, my favorite color is blue, it’s just, you know the corpses turn blue when they’re frozen. I thought I’d have a little fun with it.”

Dot rolled her eyes as she reached for a hot roll from the bread basket at the center of the table. “You know our type of jokes never go over well with anyone.” She gave him a pointed look as she tore open the steaming bread. “Especially when they’re that corny.”

Gladwyn’s laugh was sheepish but genuine, and Monica had to respect a guy who could laugh at himself.

Throwing him a bone, she joined in the laughter, nodding. “No, no, I get it! That was, that was clever.”

Gladwyn paused at the compliment, his posture straightening not unlike a flower given a little bit of sunlight. His eyes were riveted to watching Monica’s chest rise and fall with her laughter, his own pulse quickening as he swallowed around his attraction to her. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? No one ever really laughed at his jokes; he knew they were a little awkward and probably not in the best humor, but she called it clever. She thought he was clever. His pulse reflected just how much he liked that, basked in that knowledge, that such a beautiful woman found his wit to be...worthy of her beautiful laugh. It had sent him over the moon to walk into this restaurant with her; he saw the way heads turned, the whispers that the Felina Frenzy was here and though he felt that curious jealousy again, part of him using his impressive height to shield her from inquisitive, needy stares, there was also pride that he was there with her. That others recognized she was there with him. He really liked that thought.

“May I ask the lady’s favorite color?” Gladwyn took the opportunity to get to know Monica same as she was doing with him. He was eager to know her inside and out.

Monica gestured with a smile. “Blue, too.”

It may not be a monumental thing, sharing the same favorite color as someone else; there are only so many colors in the rainbow, after all--but Gladwyn felt that connection like a bolt of lightning. They...they shared a favorite thing? It brightened his smile, widened it until he felt his cheeks ache but he welcomed the sensation. It made him so happy!

“Excellent choice,” he complimented with a conspirator’s playful wink, trying to play it cool when inside, his heart was turning somersaults. Monica’s laughter was light but genuine and it was wreaking havoc on Gladwyn’s nerves, shredding him until he was rubbed raw, left vulnerable to the next tempting thing she was planning to do. He swallowed again, looking up gratefully as their drinks were brought to the table.

“That better be a virgin,” Monica eyed Dot’s Bloody Mary, and Dot gave her a playful look.

“Only thing about me that is, obviously,” she gestured to her generous bump before taking a sip of the blood red concoction.

“What did you get?” Monica turned to Gladwyn, trying to keep the conversation between them going. She knew without having to ask Dot that the reason they’d come to dinner was so she and Gladwyn could get better acquainted...it just helped he was easy to talk to.

“Ah, you’ve caught me, I’m afraid.” Gladwyn lifted his foaming glass with a sheepish grin. “It’s a Dry Stout. I’m Irish every day of the year, not only on St. Paddy’s.”

Monica eyed the glass; it was so dark she couldn’t see through it, and almost resembled coffee though she knew it to be an ale. She laughed a little at his joke, missing his grin brightening in response as she was still admiring his drink choice.

“What have you gotten?” Gladwyn took a swig of his drink, curious eyes on Monica’s beverage choice. It was peach-colored, bubbly, and served in a long-stemmed champagne glass.

“It’s a Gigi,” Monica supplied. “My family is originally from Italy so I’m pretty well-versed in expensive cocktails from Europe.”

Gladwyn’s laughter was honest and washed over Monica as he gave her his undivided attention; she could definitely respect that the man was genuine, there didn’t seem to be anything fake about him in the few hours she’s known him. It was laughter she joined in on, picking up her flute for a gentle, feminine sip.

Gladwyn watched her without blinking, committing her movement to memory with ease; she moved with the grace of a feline, her manicured nails a compliment to the expensive cocktail kissing her lips the way he longed to do--Gladwyn came from wealth and affluence, he knew what it was to be among the elite but Monica was simply on another level. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest to hear her family was of money, she carried herself like a queen and why shouldn’t she? Her throat worked as she swallowed and Gladwyn felt it like a punch to his gut; his muscles actually tightened, his abdomen turning flips as he struggled to get his attraction under control. Monica was doing something awful to him, stealing all his attention and he’d never once felt such a strong pull to another human being in his entire life. The more time he spent in her company, the less he was confused by what was happening. Love at first sight wasn’t an easy thing to dismiss, but it was an easy thing to pin.

“It’s probably rude to ask your age, Gladwyn, but I’m having a hard time pinning you,” Monica set her glass down, meeting Gladwyn’s gaze effortlessly--because he was already looking at her. “So can I ask?”

“You can ask whatever you like, my dear.” Gladwyn would have aged himself with such a formal saying, but at least the slight accent in his rich tenor made sense now that he’d given away his heritage (as if his hair and freckles hadn’t been enough indication) and that endearment certainly came out smoother than the ale in his hand. “But I’m thirty-seven years old.”

“You don’t look it,” Monica reassured, but that was only partially true. Gladwyn didn’t look to be near his forties, but he carried himself that way, and his smile had some age behind it. Likely, due to his ever-present smile, he also had smile lines near the corners of his mouth and around his eyes.

These lines deepened at her compliment and Gladwyn reached over, putting his surprisingly warm hand on her knee. “Thank you, Monica. That’s incredibly sweet of you to say.”

Monica’s gaze dropped to Gladwyn’s long fingers and she felt him squeeze her knee in response; he made no move to remove his hand and she didn’t...know if she should consider this forward of him or not. She was dressed in black slacks and a ruffle-sleeve button-up, having wanted to start looking the part of boss since she would be taking over for Dot but she could feel the heat of Gladwyn’s hand through the fabric of her pants. She would, for some reason, have assumed his hands would be cold as the corpses he worked on daily, but his hands more closely resembled the fire of his hair.

Gladwyn hadn’t even thought before he touched her--he just acted, closed the distance between them as if he had to do it. He cursed that she was wearing slacks and not a skirt, a dress, so anxious was he to feel her soft skin. He knew it was softer than a lily would be, and he knew she smelled sweeter, too. He slowly dragged his gaze up from his hand on her knee, up her front to lock gazes with her and he searched her face--not for signs of refusal but for acceptance. She had to feel what he felt, didn’t she? There was no way only one soulmate would be feeling the instant connection, the attraction that was driving him to complete distraction. There was no other way to describe what he was feeling but soulmate; everything about her clicked like a puzzle piece Gladwyn had been missing his entire life. She didn’t shy away from his smile, she shared the same favorite color as he did; she laughed at his jokes and she found him to be clever. He knew she thought he was nice because she allowed him to pull out her chair for her and she wasn’t pulling away from his touch, now. She had to be feeling what he was...perhaps she was simply shy? Well, of course she was, she was a proper lady. A right beautiful one. A woman who deserved to be wooed properly, courted in the way a man of Gladwyn’s upbringing could. His smile deepened, and he gave her knee another longing squeeze before he slowly, reluctantly removed it. He wouldn’t push his luck, now that he was more convinced she shared what he was feeling, that slow-burning but all-consuming fire that was licking at his heart like flames.

“Are we ready to order?”

The server started at the head of the table, or perhaps it was simply Dot being pregnant, but it allowed Gladwyn a moment to wrangle with his returning jealousy--because any moment, the man was going to turn to Monica and speak to her...and Gladwyn really hated that. He was staring, unseeing, at his own menu, his mind narrowing to how he was going to...deal with this. He’d never considered himself a jealous man before, had never felt such raw, biting emotion in all his life but then he hadn’t known his soulmate before today. Monica was beautiful, a siren’s call to any man and while he would never blame her for such beauty, no it was his good fortune she was breath-taking, he didn’t have to like others noticing her. His eyes slipped from his menu, moving discreetly to Monica and again, he felt his pulse spike, his throat run dry, and he fidgeted in his seat. If he needed proof, he had it; physical proof. His body reacted every single time he looked at her.

“And you, Miss?”

Monica shifted, her eyes on her menu. “I’ll have--”

“Would you order for me, Monica?”

Gladwyn interjected into the conversation without much forethought; he was only grateful what he’d said made sense. Monica seemed to flounder a little, and he could regret catching her off-guard...but she took her attention off the waiter and it reinforced he’d done the right thing. Gladwyn had to fight to keep his smile from going smug that he’d so easily gotten her attention back.

“O-Of...course, but I don’t really know you very well?” Monica faltered, looking worried. “What if...I order something you won’t like?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.” Gladwyn set his menu down on his plate with his smile lighting his eyes. “You have impeccable taste. You can’t steer me wrong if it’s good enough for you.”

Monica’s smile was still nervous, still unsure, but Gladwyn looked like he’d made up his mind and she could only nod, turning to order for herself...and for him.

It was a small compromise, Gladwyn still hated that she spoke to the waiter, loathed that the man was admiring her so openly, but at least he’d staked something of a claim on her in front of the other male. It made him feel better, sated his childish, unfounded jealousy--no, it wasn’t unfounded! He had a right to her, to the other half of his soul. That was how it worked. That was the reward for the way he felt about her; he felt so strongly, of course he wouldn’t want someone else looking at her, thinking about her. No one had the right to even dream of touching her, no one except him.

Dinner did what Dot had intended...and it did a little more than she’d intended, at the same time. The two hours passed by in the blink of an eye, the trio exchanging stories, learning about one another and as the time passed, the more Gladwyn became convinced of what he felt to be true. Monica was the other half of his soul, the fabled soulmate promised to hopeless romantics and skeptics alike. She was perfect; she was beautiful, hauntingly so, in that he knew she would be in his dreams tonight--if he was able to sleep from wanting her. She was witty, humorous, intelligent; she was clever and her sarcasm was so biting he nearly wished to be at the receiving end just to feel the scrape of her teeth. When Monica smiled she stole the light from the room; she was radiant, and Gladwyn felt himself drowning every time she turned that smile to him. Her voice was what silk was made of, sliding over his skin until twice he’d nearly dropped his fork against his plate when she said his name. It was...too soon, perhaps, to think of late nights with her body wrapped around his but he couldn’t stop himself from going there, from crossing that sordid line because she aroused him so fervently his appetite was of an entirely different sort. He’d finished two stouts in the hopes it would douse the fire building in his belly but all it did was warm him further, made his brain a little hazy so that the lines between right and wrong blurred further. He was seated beside an angel, his angel, and the expensive food turned sour in his mouth for want to sample her instead.

This must be what it felt like to be lovesick, to be so enamored with one’s adoration that food and drink lose their taste. Gladwyn seemed to have fallen down the rabbit hole with no hope to catch himself on the sides--would he have? If he were honest with himself, no, he wouldn’t have. He dove headfirst down this trap, chasing Monica’s laugh, her voice, the way she looked at him, smiled at him. The way she made him feel should be criminal, he was already so addicted to the man he was when she looked at him. The glasses were emptied, the bill was paid, and all too soon reality was severing his time with Monica and for a fleeting moment he panicked at the void that would be left when they went their separate ways for the night.

“Thank you, Gladwyn,” Monica stood with his help as he pulled her chair out for her, and his smile was a little subdued but still present as he held up her jacket, for her to slip into it.

“It’s cold outside,” he prompted, fighting to keep the hard edge from his voice when it seemed she was going to simply take it from him. He wanted her to wear it. He wouldn’t have her catching cold, and his smile broadened when she slipped her arms into it. “There we are. That’s better, hm?”

Monica’s smile was a touch shy as Gladwyn’s large hands rubbed up her arms, smoothing her jacket and warming her further beneath the expensive fabric. He placed his hand at the small of her back, giving his head a nod toward the door and he tailored his steps to match hers despite their staggering height difference.

“So, what do you two think?” Dot turned from the front door of the restaurant, the valet sprinting out into the snow to retrieve her truck. “Think you’ll be okay to work together for a while?”

Monica turned to look up at Gladwyn but he was already looking at her, and he gestured to Dot with a nod of his head. “Ladies first.”

“I-I, yes, I don’t see any problems.” Monica gave Dot a smile, knowing Dot would be looking for any signs that Monica wasn’t comfortable--this would be a question Dot would ask again when the two were alone in her truck.

“I’m delighted to hear that, as I can assure I’m very much looking forward to working with Monica.” Gladwyn tore his smile away from Monica when he felt Dot was still staring at him. “You’ll be fine to relax at home, Miss Dreadful. We’ll have no problems working together.”

Dot looked between Gladwyn and Monica, making a thoughtful noise at the back of her throat but she nodded, her smile reaching her eyes. “Good. Then you’ll be in charge of the morgue 7AM, Monday morning, Mr. Charles.”

Gladwyn gave Dot a nod, but his attention was already turning to Monica as Dot’s truck rolled to a stop in front of the restaurant. He moved his hand from the small of her back, already loathing the space between their bodies and knowing there’d be more, much more, over the weekend. It was all he could do to keep himself calm with the reassurance that he’d be working very closely with Monica on Monday.

“It was a pleasure getting to know you, Monica. I’m very much looking forward to continuing to get to know you during our time together.” Gladwyn bowed his spine, no hesitation as he pressed his lips to her cheek. “I will see you soon. Take care of yourself until then.”

Monica’s fingers trembled as they settled on Gladwyn’s arm, and she felt his hand steady her waist in response. “H-Have a nice weekend, Gladwyn. I’ll see y-you Monday.”

“I look forward to it.” Gladwyn straightened up, replacing his hand in his pant’s pocket, watching Monica take hold of Dot’s arm, the two girls leaning on one another as the valet opened the door into the winter cold.

Without a word, he gave his keys to the valet but kept his gaze on Monica as she entered the truck, and as they drove off, he kept his gaze riveted to the vehicle disappearing in New Senzannini’s generous traffic. It wasn’t until Monica was out of sight that he was able to look away, the spell of her presence lifted enough for him to feel...completely and utterly alone. The smile dropped off his face fast enough to shatter on the marble floor beneath his dress shoes, and the valet nearly tripped coming back inside after retrieving Gladwyn’s car.

It would seem the only thing creepier than Gladwyn’s smile was when he didn’t smile, but for the first time in his life, he found he had no reason to, at the moment. The reason was currently driving further and further away from him, to live a life separate from him, where she didn’t have to think about him, didn’t have to see him, where he couldn’t see her, where he couldn’t touch her...

...for now.

Gladwyn pushed open the restaurant doors with one strong hand, ignoring the biting cold wind as he stalked toward his waiting car. Monday wasn’t too far away. Besides, the weekend gave him time to prepare, to make room in his life for a very special new someone. It had to be perfect. Everything had to be perfect.

Just like she was.

Stay tuned! ♥ Next Update: February 17th!

[banesbottombitch]

omg you should do a fic where the reader is dating some goody two shoes guy but is going behind his back and banging patrick and he catches them one day and idk maybe patrick clocks him or something idk

My sweet bean, I bring you the goods- and boy did it take a while to bring the goods, so I’m sorry about that!

Prompt Summarized: Reader cheats on her Good Guy BF with Patrick, and he catches them. 

Word Count: +3,400

Warnings: Light sexual stuff, violence of the punchy and knifey kind. Studious!Reader.

Tagged: @dreamboathannah, @restoftheworldfallsaway @ghoulishtozier @itwasmathilda, @fangirlinganditswonders, @neoandersons, @basicwheeler, @leetime14, @passionfortrashin @nurserykryme @nonrelatableteen

(Anyone who wanted to be tagged for WYS automatically gets tagged for my other Patrick works as a bonus, my duderinos. Message me -through pm-  if you want to also be tagged! Love y’all.)

Ryan Burns was perfect. He was the co-captain of the debate team, the fastest runner in track and field, he was tall and handsome with nearly angelic features. He was broad shouldered, carried a winning smile, with a mess of curly chocolate hair and flawless olive skin.

Your dad loved him, your mother adored him and invited him to dinner weekly. He walked you to class, held your hand, and pressed poliet kisses to your forehead. Ryan bought you cute little gifts, asked you to homecoming and stayed up to study with you for classes he didnt even have.

For christ sake, he was thinking of following you to USM for college just to be with you.

So why on earth where you tangled up in Patrick Hockstetter’s arms, hiding out in an equipment room?

Why were you pressed up against a wall with Derry’s worst filth, the boy who drew whispers where he stalked and tormented the innocent? Patrick was a nobody, a good-for-nothing drunk on perversions and reeking of cigarette smoke. He warranted fear, he practically breathed predatory flare as he hovered above the masses, and in all honesty- once he terrified you.

So why? Why there you there?

Because he was everything Ryan wasn’t, and he wanted you in a way Ryan couldn't dreamed of having you- and you wanted him back just as badly.

Patrick caught your attention maybe sophomore year. That was when he first found you, sitting in the library and working on a book report. He sat with you, threw a threatening arm across your shoulders and struck up casual (albeit antagonistic) conversation with you. Your responses were quick and to the point, too focused on your work to pay him too much attention.

He gave up before long, but returned the next day. And the next, and the next, continuing the habit until you didnt have another project to work on, so he started cornering you in hallways by your locker, or sitting with you at lunch. At first it was intrusive and stressful, having him follow you everywhere, but after a few weeks of pestering you his taunts become more playful and half-serious if anything, all the animosity dwindling away.

It wasn’t long before he became a comfortable weight on your shoulders, always there, ever watching.

You talked about school, music, books you enjoyed and how excited you were for college. He learned about your nuclear family composed of a housewife, a stock broker father, and your siblings, a golden older brother who could do no wrong and attention seeking younger brother with pestered the hell out of you. You walked with him to class, letting him copy your notes, and sometimes even let him drive you around Derry after classes were out.

Though Patrick had a more nihilistic process of thinking, you welcomed the change of pace compared to your other friends, who at this point, were worried about you. He talked about his friends, the latest movies to come out, girls he had slept with, and the crazy nights he had spent high and drunk running around Derry. He wasn’t too open about his family, but you had caught a few remarks about his mother who he at least seemed to favor over his father. Patrick dragged you to parties he was invited too, introduced you to his friends and urged them to welcome you with open arms. You had lost count of how many times Belch and you had piled Henry, Vic and your newest lanky companion into Amy after a particularly wild bonfire by the canalside.

So slowly, by the end of sophomore year, you two had become good friends. He was a dangerous individual, but somehow you two had been drawn together despite being polar opposites. You spent the following summer running with the Bowers Gang, while also juggling SAT study classes, church and AP assigned reading. Henry was a little rough around the edges, but warmed up to you fast, while Belch seemed relieved to finally have someone else to hang out with who wasn’t intent on getting fucked up at every party they attended. Vic was a little distant at first, but he quickly found a friend in you as you spent the summer discussing music, AP studies and colleges you hoped to get into. Patrick of course was in his own world, but dragged you by the wrist into it. The boys took you to movies, wild barn parties and drove you all around town, Vic and Patrick squishing you in the back of the blue Trans-Am while they shared a joint.

When junior year finally began you stayed at your old table with the friends you had accumulated through the years, and chatted nonsense with them. Once in a while you found yourself outside in the quad, eating lunch between Belch and Patrick while the boys laughed and joked about the latest thing they saw on TV or the fight they got into the day before. It became normal for you to hear about the nitty gritty reality outside Derry’s picturesque small town image, and you caught yourself wistfully wishing to hear more when you returned back to your table of tamer and more sensible friends. All they wanted to do was discuss the latest tests and boys they thought were cute, and for some reason you had never exactly seen what they saw. After all, any boys who approached you were almost instantly deterred by Patrick’s presence.

“He’s kinda like your guard dog.” your friend Casey had said one day at the table, and you rolled your eyes, Patrick absent from lunch on account of skipping the rest of the day past third period. He had left you a note in your locker, assuring you he’d be picking you up after classes were out to be dragged to another one of the parties and and the rest of the Bowers Gang had been invited to, no doubt to be his designated driver instead of Belch for the eighteenth time. “Patrick, I mean.”

“Patrick’s fucking creepy.” Britney agreed over her textbook, studying at the lunch table. “No offence.”

“Offence taken. He’s kind of my friend.” You shot her a dirty look, but moved your food around your plate, a little out of place without the scratch of Patrick’s callused fingertips brushing against your arms as he joked with you, always one to ignore the rest of the table and choosing to entertain you only.

“Guard dog.” Casey quipped, and you switched that glare to her, but knew she was right. Her eyes were elsewhere however, and there was a knowing smirk on her glossy lips. “With him here, no guys ever visit, and for once in your life, you need to take that chance, [First Name] and go talk to… Oh, I dont know, Ryan Burns?”

“Ryan?” You frowned, but felt a light tap on your shoulder.

You turned, and found those soft brown eyes and tanned skin, and that's where it all began- with Patrick’s absence and a chance for Ryan to cut in.

It had been so casual between you and Patrick, but then you started dating Ryan in junior year. That was when everything took a quick and drastic turn to ‘Oh Fuckville’. Moody and near cruel, Patrick’s visits became less and less frequent at the lunch tables, much to your friends excitement, but your disappointment.

Ryan never mentioned your old friend’s absence, or even his existence. He carried on, a muscular arm replacing Patrick’s over your shoulders as he dazzled all your friends and family with his brilliant smile and sweet ways. He pampered you, he loved you, and yet all you could do during your junior year was wistfully watch from afar as Patrick Hockstetter started dating Gretta Bowie.

You lost contact with Patrick, he barely registered you in the halls and he turned his back on you time and again when you made an effort to approach him. He was silent as the grave, and after a while, it became normal for you to to forget about him days at a time. Ryan replaced Patrick, slipping in your life like a well loved glove- all smiles and sweet nothings.

The Bowers Gang took a cold shoulder to you as well, though Belch and Vic seemed the most reluctant and you had caught them eyeing you once or twice, and received a tiny little wave in recognition.

Then it was senior year. You, the future valedictorian with a track star boyfriend and intent to get into college on a grant and perfect scholarship. Patrick, the resident bad boy with a handful of new piercings adorning his ears and a collection of tattoos on his pale skin, his cheerleader girlfriend worn on his arm but his eyes glazed with indifference.

December came, and so did the winter dance. Patrick wore a suit, you wore a dress, both of you took your dates and danced. Ryan was exhausting but adorable, Gretta must have been equally exhausting, but demanding and arrogant.

You crossed paths at the punch bar, never speaking, only looking. His eyes followed you when you brushed past, and for the first time in nearly a year you caught that familiar scent of cloves, cigarettes and patchouli.

January followed shortly, as well as deadlines for college applications. You found yourself in a familiar setting, Derry High’s library, when Patrick dropped down in a seat beside you.

“Heya, Princess.” He said, and you barely recognized the voice. It had deepened, what was once more nasally and condescending was richer and smooth now, and it made you grip your pen a little tighter.

“Hockstetter.” You said with little warmth, but hearing his voice, having his eyes on you, it made relief flow through you.

He watched you in silence while your pen traced your delicate handwriting, a hand resting on the wood table. The fingers had a few burns, a couple blisters as evidence of his after school activities, but they were still nimble and thin- new rings you had never seen before lining them.

You were alone in the library, free period for seniors usually spent in the quad by the cafeteria, or on the fields where your classmates could blow off some steam. Patrick would have normally been found in the parking lot, schmoozing Bowie in the back of his car or sneaking a drink from Vic’s flask while he and the other boys in the Bowers Gang stood around Belch’s blue Trans-Am.

But he was there, beside you, instead. A fact you couldn't ignore.

You sighed finally, dropping your pen and turning to face him, frown tight. “What do you want, Patrick?”

His lips tilted in an arrogant smirk, and he leaned back in his chair, lifting the front two feet in the air.

“Why? Bothered by me, Princess?”

You smacked a hand on his knee, bringing his fun to an abrupt halt and slamming the chair back down. You weren’t going to play his games, and you were in no mood to amuse him. He had dropped off the face of the planet, and ignored you for months. He had no right to walk back into your life as if he did nothing wrong.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Patrick.” You met his gaze, and caught how his jaw tightened and his eyes flashed. Your power move had grabbed his attention, and possibly not in a good way.

“Why so serious, [First Name]?” He had the audacity to keep the smirk, and you tore your hand from him.

“Fuck off.” You snapped, and to his surprise, you began to pack your supplies up. You threw your essays in a folder and shoved them in your backpack, standing. Patrick hurried to do the same, and snagged your wrist.

“Dont walk away from me, [Last Name].” He hissed, and when you attempted to wretch your wrist away, he applied a bruising grip.

“Let me go, or I swear to go I’ll scream.” You threatened, curling your trapped hand into a fist. You barely felt them, but the tears began to form. Your shoulders tensed, and Patrick caught every little attempt you made to hold back from showing the emotions that stirred inside.

“You swear? Do you really?” He brought a hand to your shoulder, and you shivered as it slid up your neck, caressing the line of your jaw before he captured your chin in a tight hold and tugged you forward.

He was inches from you, breathing warm breath that smelt of cigarettes and mint gum, with an almost adoring look in his eyes. They searched yours, and you made a move to speak, but he shushed you.

“Because I’ve wanted you to scream for me for years now, Princess.”

Patrick brought you into a rough kiss, tugging you from sight and leading you behind bookshelves, dropping his hold from your wrist to hook his arm around your waist and keep you close. The kiss burned through you, and there was no hesitation when you kissed back. Ryan forgotten, your friends tossed behind. All you cared about was keeping Patrick’s attention on you, his hands on your body and mouth on your lips.

He parted your lips, drawing a barely there moan from you. You tilted your head, gaining a new angle to kiss him, bringing hands to wind into his long strands and pull him closer. The kiss was wet, sloppy, desperate- but it was everything in that moment. He bit at your bottom lip, and you dragged nails across his scalp, grinding against his hips and forcing him to give a rough groan when you felt a hardness between his legs grow.

You broke from him then, dizzy from lack of air and a rush of excitement tainting your ability to think straight. Patrick pressed practiced kisses down your neck, scraping teeth against the skin but knowing better than to leave marks.

“Patrick…” You murmured his name, earning a rake of his fingers across the side of your waist, which only served you to press harder against him. “Patrick, stop. Someone will see.”

He snaked his arm tighter against you, and quietly rapsed against your skin. “Equipment room, tomorrow. During free period.”

Patrick nipped your neck affectionately, parting from you and slinking away as if he hadn’t just shared a breath taking kiss with you and left you yearning for more.

That first day in the equipment room was absolute bliss. You remembered bare arching backs, sweaty limbs and desperate kisses that made your lungs burn as he held you against the cool painted cement walls and drew moan after moan out of you. They continued at a weekly occurrence, your extracurricular activities unknown to Gretta Bowie or Ryan.

This time was no different, and you hooked fingers into his belt loops during a heavy and needy kiss, wordlessly begging for the article of clothing to come off. Tangled in your arms, he bit at your lip, letting out a breathy little chuckle before reaching down and tugging at the hem of your sweater.

“Take this off first, Princess. Then we have a deal. Let me see what you’ve got on today.” He slipped a hand under the soft stitching, humming as he did so.

“Why do I always have to strip first?” You asked with a quiet laugh, obeying him and crossing your arms over your torso and dragging the sweater off in a fluid motion. His tongue wetted his lips, eyes lazily raking down what you offered as he let out a slow breath.

“Wish you would let me mark you. All this skin,” Patrick drifted fingertips across your stomach, appreciating the blissfully clear skin under his touch. He wouldn't say it out loud, but you knew he worried that every time the two of you found each other in the equipment room that you would finally arrive one day showcasing red and purple love bites from someone else. “All bare for me, its a fucking tease, Princess.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but stopped short when the equipment room’s door handle jiggled and twisted, unlocking. It was thrown open ion one fluid motion, and through the single bulb that lit the room, you saw the face of your boyfriend standing in the doorway. Angelic features froze, and Ryan’s expression leaned from anguished to mortified. You saw the heartbreak in his eyes, and you dug sharp nails into Patrick’s upper arms, your shock evident.

“Awkward.” Patrick said with little emotion, but you were quick to catch the careful calculation working behind his eyes.

Nobody moved. Everyone was statue still.

And then all hell broke loose.

Ryan hurled himself at Patrick, a first raised and his speed almost inhuman. Patrick pushed off from you, easily avoiding the hit that was thrown at him, just barely hitting a shelf of equipment and forcing him to sidestep the shelving and round the track star.

“You fucking asshole.” Ryan seethed, his breathing just angry pants and shoulders quivering. “You had Bowie. You could have any fucking girl here, why the fuck did you after my girl?”

Ryan grabbed air, missing Patrick again, who snorted an incredulous laugh. You snatched your sweater off the floor, pulling it over your head and keeping close to the brick wall, unsure of what to do in the tiny room with two wound up boys both itching to fight.

“She was mine well before she was yours, Burns.” Patrick taunted with a sneer, and he dug into the back of his pocket, procuring a folded blade, which he unfurled with ease. There was a glitter of malevolence behind those grey-green eyes of his, and something told you that if the fight was to continue, that Ryan would end up with a permanent jokers smile.

Ryan launched forward, and Patrick ripped his shoulder to the side, throwing him up against the wall opposite to you, the blade at his pulse. Ryan struggled for a moment, the knife breaking skin as beads of red appeared, and Patrick pressed his other arm across the tan skinned boys chest, holding him there. Ryan rolled his tongue, inhaling sharply and then spitting in the dark haired boys face.

“Fuck you, Hockstetter.”

Patrick rubbed the spit from his cheek, snarling and pressing Ryan hard against the wall. “You’re gonna regret that, Burns.”

You watched, heart nearly stopping as Patrick ripped the hand with the knife back, using the blunt of his knuckles to wail a precise punch against Ryan’s jaw. He cried out, and the air whistled as Patrick applied blow after blow, the hits landing against Ryan’s chin, cheekbones, nose and mouth. The knife threatened to cut skin as Patrick succumbed to his anger, and you tore yourself from your stupor to shout.

“Patrick!” You screamed, and you saw how the aforementioned boys shoulders tensed, actions frozen in time. “Dont.”

Ryan tried to push off from Patrick’s grip, but he was held there with ease, and the lankier boy glanced over his shoulder. His knife glinted in the light, the edge just barely tinged red as it hovered ever so close to Ryan’s face.

“So what then Princess?” He asked, and you noticed the way his jaw tightened. “Your move.”

“Why?” Ryan suddenly said, in an almost pleading sort of way. The betrayal was clear, and the guilt pulled at your heartstrings as you advanced quickly, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I loved you.” Your boyfriend said as you rested a hand on the arm that Patrick held a knife in. “I was gonna go to state with you, babe.”

“Patrick.” Softly, you urged him to drop his hold. He hesitated, and you saw the deliberation in his eyes.

Finally, with Ryan allowing a few tears fall, Patrick skillfully whipped his knife into dormancy, stuffing it into his back pocket and stepping back to let his grip slacken. Ryan fell to the concrete floor, and he raised a hand to gingerly touch his bruised and split lip, his eyes stuck on you.

“Why?” He repeated.

You refused to answer, taking a grip to Patrick’s arm and tugging at it. “Come on.”

He turned to follow you, taking quick steps to the door before he whipped his head back, and you saw the smugness in the highlights of his face, lips quirking into an arrogant smirk. “If you see Bowie ‘round, be a pal and tell her we’re over, Burns.”

Patrick let you lead him out out of the equipment room, a euphoric glow to his expression as he followed you down the halls. There was silence between you, and before you made it to the end of the hall and out the doors that led to the fields, he threw an arm over your shoulders and dragged you close- the familiarity of his touch the only thing that grounded you in that moment.

[svtmatokis]

Dating them not you

Request: You getting kicked out of your flat and you have no where else to go so you call your boyfriend Jihoon but he’s too busy to help you so you call the other members and they try to help since it takes a few days for Jihoon to snap back to reality.

Requested by @scorpiomonbebe

Pairing: Jihoonxreader; ReaderxSeventeen (friendship)

You couldn’t believe it. You had been living at your current place ever since you moved out on your own. You were a good tenant, you paid rent on time and you literally had no damages on the place.  But yet, after five loyal years, your landlords who were this couple from Busan, had given you a notice stating that their daughter had recently given birth and they wanted to move back to the city to be closer to her. That meant that you had one week to find and move into a new place.

You had no idea what to do, your parents were currently travelling and had no cellular service. They had left you in the care of your lovely boyfriend of three years, Jihoon.

Jihoon. That’s who you were going to call.

Quickly pressing 1 on your phone, you waited with baited breath as the phone rang.

“Y/N?” You heard his voice over the line.

“Ah...Jihoonie...do you have a moment?” You asked hesitantly, you knew that the group was preparing for a comeback so they were all fairly busy.

“Neh, Neh, what is it?” He asked though he sounded distracted. Probably in the middle of working on another song.

“My landlords just gave me a one week notice to move out…” you started slowly.

“Mwoh? Jinja? That sucks. Let me know if you need anything.”he said still sounding distracted. “I have to go now. We’re going to start recording. Call me later when you figure things out okay?” And suddenly the line went dead.

“But I do need you…” you whispered into the phone before letting out a big sigh.

You thought about all the people you could call, Mingyu? No, he was probably busy writing raps for the next comeback.

All your friends were currently on holiday since it was reading break so that wasn’t going to work.

Suddenly, a thought hit you.

Grabbing your phone again, you looked for a number.

Y/N: Jisoo….

JS: ?? Hi Y/N what’s up?

You quickly texted him everything that had happened and suddenly your phone rang.

“Oppa?”

“Are you okay?” You could hear Jisoo’s voice which was slightly is out of breath. Probably had dance practice.

You hadn’t wanted to call Jisoo, but when Jihoon was in producer mode, it was really hard to talk to him. Something that you had wanted to bring up but never had the chance to. Jisoo and the other members always came through whenever you needed someone to talk to or vent to about your relationship with Jihoon.

Not saying that you were unhappy with Jihoon, he just had moments where your mind drew a complete blank when it came to how he acted sometimes.

“Neh…” you sighed, “I just don’t know what to do….” you looked around your apartment at all your things. You had a lot of packing to do, and you also had to find a place that was immediately available.

You heard Jisoo sigh on the other side, “Have you called Jihoon?”

You nodded but realized he couldn’t see you. “Neh...but he’s in producer mode right now..”

“Ah….” Jisoo said understanding and thought to himself. “I’m grabbing the boys and we’ll be at your place in twenty minutes. Don’t go anywhere”

“Boys?” You asked hesitantly. Were they really going to drag Jihoon over too? “And don’t you have practice?”

“Coups and Jeonghan Hyung, we’d grab Jihoon but the kid hasn’t left the studio since yesterday. The three of us have finished recording for the day so we’re basically free. See you soon.” he said and the line went dead.

‘What is with people hanging up on me today?’ You thought to yourself.

Exactly twenty minutes later, your doorbell rang and in walked, Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Jisoo with various snacks.

“What. Am. I. Going. To. Do” you muttered banging your head against the arm of the couch but was quickly padded by Jeonghans hand.

“How about not giving yourself a concussion before WE decide what to do?” Jisoo suggested from his spot next to you pulling you farther away.

“We?” you asked looking at the three of them who gave you looks of obviousness.

“We aren’t going to let you go through this on your own Y/N. Realistically, Jihoon should be here, but that child becomes oblivious to the world when he’s producing.”  Jeonghan shook his head, “We need to have a talk with him regarding priorities….this isn’t the first time you’ve called for our help”

Seungcheol nodded his head in agreement. “You said you had one week to pack right?”

You nodded before sighing and falling backwards into a lying down position, “It’s not packing and getting my stuff out of here that’s the issue...it’s trying to find a place on such short notice and getting everything moved in.. then I have work meaning I actually have less time to pack and I have this deadline to meet too and argggg” you pulled at your hair. This was so frustrating! Timing was not on your side at all.

The three boys looked at you with concern in their eyes.

“Y/N,” Seungcheol looked at you, “When was the last time you saw Jihoon?”

You shrugged your shoulders, apart from him being with Seventeen, he often locked himself in his production studio to work on future material for the team too and you worked as a project manager for Seungcheol dad’s company so it was hard to find time that made sense for both of you.

The two of you were labeled the power couple of both worlds, him in the entertainment industry and you being one of the most sought after project managers the corporate side. It was actually through Seungcheol that you had met Jihoon during the company Christmas party you were forced to attend.

You had known Seungcheol ever since you started working for his father and the two of you had a nice friendship that never developed to anything more as his father had hoped but alas, the producer of Seventeen had caught your eye and not too long after the first meeting, he had called you out for a date on one of the rare times your schedules had worked for the two of you.

You knew that dating an idol was hard but you and Jihoon had expressed and understood the concern, but as of late since they started preparing for another comeback in a row, he had less and less time for you.

“Maybe a month ago? We text a lot...but we haven’t gone out out…oh wait no, it was at your Clap comeback party. So about three weeks ago?” You thought, “Yea...three weeks ago”

You were met with silence as the three boys looked at you, shock evident on their faces.

“Y/N, we had lunch literally last week, and the week before that.” Jisoo stated, “Hell the four of us went out for dinner three days ago and don’t think we don’t know that you and Wonwoo hit up the bookstore yesterday, that guy came in with a new bookshelf worth.”

You shrugged, “Everytime I ask Jihoon, he says he’s busy and tells me that we’ll go out next time. He always says if I have a problem, to call him but then this happened and you guys are the ones here not him. Sometimes I feel like he cares, but not enough. Sometimes I just feel like he takes me for granted.” you looked up at the ceiling and let out a big breath.

“Y/N…..” Jeonghan said getting off the couch and sitting next to you while Jisoo moved to the top of your head and Seungcheol took Jisoo’s spot next to you.

“How long have you been holding that in for?” Seungcheol asked as he patted your arm.

You shrugged and blinked back tears, “I dont know….a while?” You sighed sitting up and moved so that the four of you were sitting in a circle. “I mean, your dad always tells me to take a break, go out or something, so I do. But whenever I ask Jihoon, he’s never available so I end up going out with one of my friends or with one of you guys.” You wrapped your arms around your knees and rested your chin on top of them.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m dating Seventeen as a whole...I just want my Jihoonie back….but I have to deal with this first so…”

Silence fell on the group, all deep in thought until Seungcheol sat up straight going into leader mode.

“Okay, we have one week right?” He asked looking at you for confirmation.

“Realistically three days if I use my one sick day…”

“Don’t worry about work. I’ll talk to my father, he only speaks highly of you so I’m sure he’d understand.  I want you to not worry about Jihoon okay? Right now, we have to focus on what’s happening and sucks for him if he claims he’s too busy for his own girlfriend. You have us to help you.”

You hesitated looking at the determined look on his face,”But I dont want to bother you though-“

The group cut you off with laughter.

“You aren’t bothering us Y/N… we’re taking care of you like you’ve taken care of us.” Jisoo said smiling wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“Neh, remember those nights you used to come to our practice room to bring dinner and snacks when you knew we were preparing for a live show? And all those times you came to support us at our fan meets and concerts?” Jeonghan asked and you nodded.

“If we didn’t want to help, we wouldn’t be here okay? You don’t deserve to go through this alone.  Plus, I’m sure once the other members hear about it, they’ll want to help too. You’re family Y/N” Seungcheol finished with bright smile on his face.

Unable to blink back tears you bowed your head, “Thank you.. Thank you so much you guys. I don’t know what I would’ve done if it weren’t for you.”

”Like Coup’s said Y/N, you don’t deserve to go through this alone.” Jeonghan said looking at his phone, “But our leader better call one of the members back before all nine of them call each of us.”

“Right….we didn’t tell them where we were going” Seungcheol chuckled to himself before stepping out to call Sooyoung who was more or less in charge.

You looked at Jisoo who only gave you his innocent eyes and smile while shrugging. “When I told him, he literally took mine and Hannie’s hands and ran out the door.”

“Ah….” you said nodding slightly.

“So we were thinking...for now while you find a place to stay, why don’t you come stay with the three of us?” Jeonghan suggested as the four of you were at your favourite Korean BBQ restaurant having dinner causing you to choke on your meat.

“E-excuse me?” you asked looking at him wide eyed.

“We talked about it on the way here, it’s in the same building at the rest of the team, just a different flat, Jeonghan and I can share a room for the time being…..”  Seungcheol said slowly gaging your reaction.

You put your chopsticks down, “I CANNOT do that.” you said mouthful of meat with finality in your voice.

Two hours later, the four of you were back at your flat with ice cream.

“I cannot believe I agreed to that” you muttered and took a big bite out of your triple chocolate ice cream causing your three best friends to laugh at you.

You guys spent the rest of the night planning what you guys were going to do for that week.

Most of the members were filled in on what your current situation was and they were ready to help where they could. So while you, Seungcheol and Jisoo went flat shopping for the first few days, Jeonghan would lead the packing of your apartment with strict instructions to leave your clothes and undergarments alone.

Reluctantly, you had agreed to stay with the 95’ liners who had gotten their own place within the Pledis flat until you were able to find a place that you could move into but you also made them promise to let you cook and clean during the time you stayed with them. So that was one headache out of the way.

Seungcheol’s father was understanding and even offered to give you the week off but you quickly refused stating that you had a project deadline and just because you were moving and trying to find somewhere to live, didn’t mean that you could neglect your duties.

He moved the project deadline to two weeks forward (cause he could) and told you if you didn’t take the week off, you were fired.  That was more than enough for you to agree.

You had heard from Jihoon only once during the week with a quick text asking if you were okay. You could tell he was still in zombie producer mode so you didn’t push further except a simple “Yes”

The past week had been crazy, much to your dismay, you were unable to find a place right away. The boys would come over whenever they could to help you pack and you did your clothes and personal belongings yourself. The only person you didn’t see at all was Jihoon who according to the other members, had locked himself in the studio only coming out to use the bathroom.

Moving day had finally come, Jisoo and Seungcheol had stayed over at your place the night before to help you finish packing whatever needed to be packing as well as to label what was going to their apartment and what was going into the storage unit. Then Seungcheol and Mingyu would take all your extra stuff in a truck (driven by one of the managers) to a storage unit where your stuff would stay until you found a new place.

Around the time Jeonghan had showed up to wake the boys up, Jihoon who had finally emerged from his man cave and walked into the dorm.

The boys quickly noticed him but were too busy getting ready to say anything so he approached Dino who looked like he was ready since he was sitting on the couch on his phone.

“Ah Hyung, you’re finally done?” the maknae asked looking up at Jihoon.

“Neh…” he said in a slight daze rubbing his eyes, “What’s going on? It’s a rest day for us isn’t it?”

“Oh...Didn’t you know? Y/N-Noona’s moving today. So we’re all helping her. Don’t you talk to your girlfriend Hyung?”  the ever blunt maknae asked.

Jihoon felt guilt wash over him as he thought about your call earlier that week.

Noting the look on his face, Dino gestured to Jeonghan who was talking to Mingyu since he was one of the few members going to the storage unit with Seungcheol.

“You should talk to Jeonghan-Hyung, he’s been helping Y/N all this week when he wasn’t at practice.”

Jihoon observed the room and noted that two people were missing.

“Where’s Seungcheol-Hyung And Jisoo-Hyung?” He asked and the maknae thought for a moment.

“Oh, they stayed with Y/N last night to help her finish what we didn’t do this week.” He paused, “You should really talk to Jeonghan Hyung though..”

Reluctantly, he walked over to Jeonghan who gave him a look of faux surprise.

“So he lives” Jeonghan said looking at him from the corner of his eye, “Don’t worry, she’s not mad. She said she was used to it”

Those words didn’t make Jihoon feel any better.

Seeing the look on Jihoon’s face, Jeonghan patted his shoulder, “It’s okay, you’re coming with us right?” he asked quickly.

Jihoon  nodded his head despite how tired he was as he changed into something he didn’t mind getting dirty or damaged and soon he was out the door with the rest of them. Totally forgetting to ask where you were actually going to be moving.

Back your flat, you, Jisoo and Seungcheol were passed out on the floor, surrounded by packed boxes and bags. Seungcheol had passed out near the couch while you and Jisoo were closer to the kitchen sharing one large blanket. The three of you fell asleep somewhere between 4-5am, with you passing out first and Jisoo and Seungcheol following not far behind.

That was how Jeonghan and the rest of Seventeen had found you.

“Aish… leave you three alone and it looks the aftermath of a party. What happened to the neat box piles that I labeled?”

Still half asleep, you responded in a tired voice “We had to reorganize some boxes cause not EVERYTHING is going to the storage unit. A few boxes of clothes are going to your place as well as some shoes.” You slowly opened your eyes and noticed that instead of the ten boys you were expecting you saw eleven. “Jihoonie” you said with a tired smile, “What are you doing here?”

He slowly walked up to you, almost nervously, “Y/N-ah….” he knelt down and put his head on your shoulder almost bowing. “Mian…”

“Hmmm?” You asked in a sleepy daze, Seungcheol and Jisoo were slowly waking up as Jeonghan motioned for everyone to start moving things to the truck and also it give you two alone time.

Once the boys dispersed, Jihoon slowly pulled you up, knowing how dizzy you got when you were still half asleep.

”I’m sorry...I’m so freaking sorry” Jihoon said holding both your hands as he bowed. “I should’ve been here for you. I knew you were going through a tough time and yet I still put my needs over yours…”

You shook your head, “It’s okay...Jisoo, Seungcheol, and Jeonghan Oppa helped out a lot. I understand when you’re busy Jihoon.”

He shook his head and muttered, “That’s not what Jeonghan-Hyung said…”

“Hmmm?” you asked sitting up completely as you noticed the boys were helping carry various boxes to the truck and the furniture being moved by the professionals you hired.

“He said that after you called me, you called Jisoo-hyung right away.” he sighed and looked away, “He said that it’s been happening so often that Jisoo keeps his phone with him at all times now...I didn’t realize it was that bad…”

You looked at him and sighed, this was not a conversation you wanted to have with him at 8am in the morning especially on moving day.

“It’s….complicated” you admitted. “I understand that you’re busy so I don’t let it bother me too much...but when it gets to the point where I try to spend all my free time with you but you always tell me you’re busy and our schedules don’t match up and when you do have free time, you use it to sleep or write music or spend it on your own….it makes me feel neglected. Times when I need you, you’re busy, times like this week…” you sighed and ran your hand through your hair, “Sometimes, I feel like I’m dating your members and not you…”

Your last statement broke Jihoon’s heart as he realized what he had done. “Y/N…” he started but you shook your head.

“Jisoo and Seungcheol make it a point to have lunch with me at least once a week, the three of them make sure we have dinner AT LEAST once every other week, if I can’t make dinner, they have this weird tendency to show up at my office with take out. Don’t ask, I stopped questioning a long time ago. Wonwoo and I go to the bookstore almost every month, if not the bookstore, he and Mingyu and I go for coffee at least once a week. Hell everyone else MAKES me do something with them when they know I’m free and you’re busy. We don’t spend time together outside of events, I get that you play a big role in your team Jihoon...but please...make time for me too…” you looked down.

The next thing you knew, Jihoon had wrapped his arms around you and whispered apologies in your ear. He never realized that you felt that way and he realized himself that indeed, he made you feel neglected and that he wasn’t the best boyfriend and that you deserved better.

You patted his back, “It’s okay Jihoon… I told you, I’m not mad…”

He pulled away but kept his arms securely around you. You noticed that his eyes were slightly red from tearing up and you put your head on his shoulder.

“Don’t cry… I told you.. I’m not mad at you… I just want the Jihoon I had a year ago back..”

His arms tightened around you as he nodded his head, letting more tears of guilt fall. He wasn’t one to show emotions in front of people, but with you it was different. You had supported him through everything and took care of his members too which is why in turn, they treated you like family.

“I promise I’ll do better… I promise…” he whispered kissing the top of your head. You nodded your head in response and wrapped your arms tightly around nuzzling into his chest.  It felt good to have his arms around you once again, and this time, you knew it was for the long term. Cause Jihoon was never one to break promises.

The two of you stayed like that until Jeonghan popped his head through the door with a knowing smile on his face as if he heard the whole conversation.

“Y/N, we’re pretty much done packing the stuff into the two trucks. But you better come out before Seokmin goes through the box labeled undergarments that he has in his hands.”

“The hell Jeonghan, I said Jisoo was supposed to take that box.” you said pulling away from Jihoon while Jihoon stood up quickly and grabbed the umbrella next to the door before walking out.

The next thing you heard was a screaming Seokmin and a snap causing you and Jeonghan to cringe.

Seungcheol, Sooyoung and Mingyu ran through the door laughing with tears in their eyes before collapsing on the floor while Jisoo walked closely behind them with a straight face holding your umbrella in two pieces.

“You need a new umbrella, and maybe a tranquilizer to subdue Jihoon…. he hasn’t stopped chasing Seokmin around the truck and I’m surprised for someone who claimed he was so tired.”

The rest of the move went by well (outside of your broken umbrella and a frustrated Jihoon), you made sure he came with you to unpack your things with Jisoo, Jeonghan, Wonwoo, and Minghao while the rest of the boys went to the storage unit to put your other things away.

You stayed with the 95’ line for about two weeks which meant that Jihoon too “lived” with the 95’ line. He would still go back to his dorm to sleep once in a while but he was a frequent visitor during the days they had a break.

Jihoon kept his promise like you knew he would and spent as much time with you as he could, be it watching a movie at the dorms or even joining you for dinner with the 95’ line once in a while.

He was especially attentive when you had finally found a place, in the same building and made sure he helped you move your things this time. Plus, it was another place he could crash if he didn’t want to spend time in the dorm with the other members and boy was he a frequent visitor, especially the first few nights after his comeback, you would feel the door to your bedroom open and soon arms would be wrapped tightly around you and suddenly, everything felt like home.

[rb-d2]

We can do things now!

Dev Grant

We announced it a few days ago over on our twitter. But we have been awarded with the Unreal Dev Grant from Epic Games!

This means that a considerable amount of pressure has been taken off financially, which means we can get the ball rolling with things (mainly music and story illustrations) much earlier than we anticipated even before the crowdfunding starts! 

Here’s the official announcement from Epic : https://www.unrealengine.com/en-US/blog/epic-games-awards-over-200-000-in-new-unreal-dev-grants

Upcoming New Demo + Kickstarter Campaign

Currently a new demo is being prepared to coincide with our upcoming Kickstarter campaign. We’re still doing a lot of preliminary stuff regarding the KS campaign but the demo should be ready in a week or two.

Hopefully the demo will show our intentions when it comes to the game direction. It will showcase our current production capability with a fully voiced multi-role mission, and a slightly revised air to air mission which you should be familiar with if you’ve played the latest alpha. The next demo contain a higher degree of polish relative to the current demo at least (0.2.10c) and introduces a lot of QoL changes to gameplay. I’ll detail some of those on the current post and upcoming ones too. Be on the lookout!

Now, on to actual dev post.

Story/Campaign

The story for the campaign is outlined, we have discussed and have an idea on what we want to do with it. I’m not going to discuss the story too much with these dev logs but we have a lot of interesting things on our pipeline that you might appreciate. And of course the upcoming demo will reflect some of the stuff we’re trying to do for the campaign. 

Vegetation

I’ve always felt like the vegetation and ground details was rather lackluster in the game. Mainly it’s due to a lack of skill on my end. But considering the amount of detail I need for trees at flight level, it was much easier than i thought. Complete with LODs and imposters for trees that are further away.

I’m very happy with how they turned out and at this moment there is no performance impact in terms of frame rate to the current build so far.

Cockpit Revision

Major texture improvements has been brought to all the cockpits (all 2 of them) to the upcoming aircraft. I’m not the best texture artist around but hopefully you can appreciate the effort I’ve put into the cockpits of these glorious war machines.

Hangar

I’ve always intended to replace the hangar in the current demo with something else due to the current one being so lackluster that I’ve decided to scrap the entire thing. So here are some screenshots of what I’m currently trying to achieve with the new hangar. Keep in mind these pictures are still WIP and most objects are still untextured and unfinished.

That’s it for now!

Again, thank you everyone for the support so far! While I may not answer every single email or tumblr asks. I still read all of them!

Feel free to reach me on : wingmangamedev@gmail.com

-RB

Questions and Answers

i-i promise this time please dont hurt me

Thank you for the kind words everyone! 

In my opinion that would severly limit the “fast paced dogfighting” aspect of the game.

For me, its more or less the latter due to it mostly based on stuff that exists IRL. But there are some fictional designs already in the pipeline and for those I just do a basic outline sketch and see what kind of things i come up as I 3D model it.

It will be an arcade-style gameplay.

A few weeks. I’d like to get it out before end of September. Look forward to it!

Yes, that is definitely the goal I’m currently going towards.

Hey guys! I’m not dead yet don’t worry.

First, I’m so sorry it took so long for me to post another dev post. There’s a lot being worked on in the background that I can’t really show. Mainly story related and how the world in Project Wingman works. 

However, most of those things are out of the way now so you will definitely see more development related stuff coming now that I can get back to working on the game. And I must say it feels great to be able to post things like these again.

This was actually an idea I had a while ago, though I can’t promise if It will be implemented within reasonable time.

For me it takes around 5-10 hours to model a single aircraft. But this excludes rigging, UV mapping, texturing, and polishing. With all those it could probably add up to around 30-50 hours to create an aircraft. Highly dependent on its complexity.

Unfortunately no plans as of now. You can however shoot them down in the future. Does that count? :)

Oh yes, absolutely. If you’re reading this you’ve probably already read it above. Please look forward to this!

We’ll have to see. It was mostly an experiment so it does not have a high degree of polish yet (AKA right now it only works on giant flat surfaces). I will polish up the mechanic further as the game goes forward. 

No plans for Mac version at the moment. Sorry.

To be honest I don’t think so, at that point it’s pretty much a completely different game that requires different set of design principles which most already clashes with how Project Wingman is currently being built. It may be something I’ll explore for a future game, but as for now a fast paced arcade flight game is the current development roadmap.

I should really get a FAQ going haha.

I have a preliminary aircraft list at the moment. I’ll share those in the future. Regarding your requestion, the MiG-31and the Su-27  would be the closest thing we have in the preliminary aircraft list. We’ll have to see about the rest ;)

And yes, I’ll see what I can do about alternate skins.

Will do! It’s currently being considered.

The F-14 will return eventually. Thanks for the kind workds!

Thank you! Your words motivate me even further to see this game through to completion!

Will do, I’ll make sure to have that added by the next update.

Whew, that was a long post.

If you’re here, I’d like to thank you for taking the time to read the entire thing! 

Until next time!

[ggukiefrappe]

Limerence · 2

Member: Jimin x Reader

Genre: Mystic Messenger!au; fluff; slight angst; swearing; slight drug use

Summary:

Lim·er·ence

/ˈlimərəns/

The state of being infatuated or obsessed with another person typically experienced involuntarily and characterized by a strong desire for reciprocation of one’s feelings but not primarily for a sexual relationship.

I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. I thought it was just a game, guess not.

*Y/N has entered the chatroom*

Kim Seokjin [9:15]: I can’t believe you have to go to school on your break

Jeon Jungkook [9:15]: I KNOW RIGHT! IT’S SO DAMN OUTRAGEOUS DON’T YOU THINK???

Jeon Jungkook [9:15]: like its called TERM BREAK for a reason… so we dont go to school

Jeon Jungkook [9:15]: yet, we still have to for that stupid seminar

Jung Hoseok [9:15]: Don’t forget you need to get your report card, kook

Jeon Jungkook [9:15]: i knoww, its just that I have to get it with my parents but they aren’t even here.

Jeon Jungkook [9:16]: They told me I still needed to go ;’((

Jeon Jungkook [9:16]: They told me to bring like a representative or something

V [9:16]: Suga or Namjoon can be your representative

Jeon Jungkook [9:16]: THAT’S NOT THE POINT!!!

Jeon Jungkook [9:16]: the point is, i’m not supposed to be in school :(( it’s term break they should at least give us the WHOLE week to rest from all those exams...

Suga [9:16]: heh, thank God I don’t go to school anymore

Jeon Jungkook [9:16]: Just 2 more years, just 2 more years….

Kim Namjoon [9:16]: Keep telling yourself that kid

What… these People, I mean AI are really weird. It’s kinda funny actually. I read the chats being written before me. Contemplating whether or not I should speak up first but,

Suga [9:16]: oh….

V [9:16]: what is it??

Suga [9:16]: OH…

Jung Hoseok [9:16]: Suga what is it? Just say it

Suga [9:16]: INTRUDER!!!!!

Suga [9:16]: THERE’S AN INTRUDER!!

Looks like he beat me to it… I started typing out an introduction. Should it be like a short Hi… or like a long ass paragraph introducing myself??? Honestly, I myself didn’t know why I was so flustered… they were just AIs… right?

Suga [9:16]: reveal yourself, intruder

Suga [9:16]: Who are you and how did you get in here?

Jung Hoseok [9:16]: wait, r u srs??

Suga [9:16]: well yeah, why’d I lie about this??

Jung Hoseok [9:16]: I don’t know I just thought you were joking

V [9:17]: I don't think this is a laughing matter… you, whoever you are, who are you?

Jeon Jungkook [9:17]: Yeah, who are you? Just come out, we don't bite :)

Kim Namjoon [9:17]: maybe it can’t talk? Maybe it’s just a bug

Kim Seokjin [9:17]: Yeah, maybe it’s a bug

Suga [9:17]: I don’t think so

This is honestly, the most awkward thing I've ever done. Fuck I should’ve stayed home. I quickly wrote a reply to the accusations.

Me [9:17]: Hello, My name’s Y/N, and I am NOT a bug, thank you very much.

Kim Seokjin [9:17]: IT TALKS

Me [9:17]: umm excuse you? I’m a ‘her’??

Kim Seokjin [9:17]: are you?

Me [9:17]: ==” i’m done.

V [9:17]: anyway, How did you get here?

Me [9:18]: I don't know??

Lying is that bad right… I did promise Christian I won’t tell them.

Suga [9:18]: where did u find this app?

Me [9:18]: well that’s a dumb question… the place where I download apps. The app store .-.

Suga [9:18]: What… it’s not supposed to be there

I know it’s not from the app store, what else was there for me to say?? Frustrated, I typed the first thing I had in mind, with a little sarcastic smile at the end of course.

Me [9:18]: then how did you all got this app then? The app store :))

Kim Namjoon [9:18]: Suga?

Suga [9:18]: I’m checking it right now

Jung Hoseok [9:18]: where are you from Y/N?

Me [9:19]: home??

Jung Hoseok [9:19]: HAHAHA very funny

Jung Hoseok [9:19]: no srsly though

Me [9:19]: umm

Me [9:19]: anyway, I came with good news :))

Me [9:19]: that's good, right?

Suga [9:20]: GUYS

Jeon Jungkook [9:20]: what’s wrong?

Jeon Jungkook [9:20]: did something happen??

Suga [9:20]: I can’t track her location at all

Why the fuck is he tracking my location? That’s kinda stalkerish… Trying to maintain the secrecy, I tried my hardest to avoid as many questions thrown at me as possible but, but... it’s not working out too well.

Kim Namjoon [9:21]: let’s change the question… what’s your purpose here?

Me [9:21]: I was told to host parties.

V [9:21]: parties? Like the A.F.A?

Me [9:21]: I guess

Me [9:21]: anywayy, when can i meet Aria? I’m here cause of her

Jeon Jungkook [9:21]: what.

Kim Seokjin [9:22]: did I read it wrong?

Suga [9:22]: Aria?

Jung Hoseok [9:22]: looks like someone’s not to date…

Kim Namjoon [9:22]: V’s here. Y/N, please refrain from subjects regarding Aria

V [9:22]: It’s fine Namjoon, Y/N I don’t know how you know Aria but

V [9:23]: She’s not with us anymore

V [9:23]: She left us 6 months ago

Me [9:23]: oh…

Suga [9:23]: should I cut her off?

Jeon Jungkook [9:23]: NO

Jeon Jungkook [9:23]: she knows something about Aria

Jeon Jungkook [9:23]: aren’t you guys curious??

Well, this is interesting. I didn’t know this Aria person was THAT important.

Kim Seokjin [9:24]: I'm curious

Kim Seokjin [9:24]: but more suspicious

Kim Namjoon [9:24]: same, she might be a dangerous person for all we know

V [9:24]: Suga, is it possible for you to connect me through?

V [9:24]: I want to call Y/N

Me [9:25]: you can just say it here

Jeon Jungkook [9:25]: yeah, you can just say it here

V [9:25]: Its a slightly delicate subject that I can’t really say here

Jeon Jungkook [9:25]: is it about Aria?

Jeon Jungkook [9:25]: there you go again, keeping your secrets.

Damn, this is real. Are they gonna fight? Shit. I don’t want to be in the middle of it…

Me [9:25]: umm guys, I don’t think it’s the time to fight right now

Kim Seokjin [9:25]: she’s right.

Kim Seokjin [9:26]: I know it’s upsetting for you Jungkook but let’s just see what happens first

Kim Namjoon [9:26]: Are you sure V?

V [9:26]: yes, it's fine

V [9:26]: There’s something that I have to ask her, even if there are risks, I must endure them.

V [9:26]: I’d like to think that Aria wanted the AFA parties to continue, even when she’s gone

V [9:26]: which is why she sent Y/N to come and do it for her

That’s right. I don’t know what you’re talking about but okay.

Kim Namjoon [9:27]: but we still don’t know whether or not you are to be trusted

Me [9:27]: I know that… but let’s try to get along yeah?

Jung Hoseok [9:27]: but still though

Jung Hoseok [9:27]: don’t you think a background check is necessary?

Kim Namjoon [9:27]: yes.

Suga [9:27]: well, i’ll try

Suga [9:28]: that’s okay with you right?

Me [9:28]: i guess?

Me [9:28]: anyway, all I have to do is help arrange the party yes?

Jeon Jungkook [9:28]: yep ^^ i think you’ll get emails from guests? You’ll just have to arrange those

Kim Seokjin [9:28]: yess but the date of the party is yet to be set

V [9:29]: I will inform the date later on but for now, starting is good

Me [9:29]: okay! I’ll try to get started

Add one more task that I'll procrastinate on I guess. Sighing, I added ‘guest emails’ onto the list of ‘things that are due’.

V [9:30]: I guess I should go now Kim Namjoon [9:30]: Okay, see you around Me [9:30]: bye V~ V [9:30]: guess I'll talk with everyone later

*V has left the chatroom*

Kim Namjoon [9:30]: we should go back to work Hoseok

Jung Hoseok [9:30]: I guess we should huh, Joonie?

Jung Hoseok [9:30]: we’ll talk again later!

*Kim Namjoon has left the chatroom*

*Jung Hoseok has left the chatroom*

Well, I mean since everyone’s leaving, might as well leave too right? I’m kinda hungry too anyway.

Me [9:31]: Guys, I think I have to go now too, I need to finish my report for my psychology class ㅠㅠ

I used my ‘need to finish my report’ excuse again even though everyone knows, I'm gonna do it the night before.

Me [9:31]: it was nice meeting you guys! I’ll come back soon

Jeon Jungkook [9:31]: YOU’RE STILL IN UNIVERSITY TOO??

Me [9:31]: YES! YOU TOO??

Oh, a fellow university student. Nice, we shall suffer together.

Jeon Jungkook [9:31]: what year are u in?

Me [9:31]: 2nd, you?

Jeon Jungkook [9:31]: OMG SAME

Me [9:31]: OMG I HAVE A NEW FRIEND HI

Jeon Jungkook [9:31]: HI FRIEND

Me [9:31]: anyway, I gotta go. Byeee

Jeon Jungkook [9:31]: okay! Have fun with that report

Kim Seokjin [9:31]: See Kookie, follow a fellow university student. Actually, do your projects instead of playing Overwatch all the time

Jeon Jungkook [9:31]: WELL I’M SORRY.

Heh, cute. I smiled as I read the text. As AIs, they have good chemistry together, then again they were programmed to do so. Damn Christian’s hot and smart.

*Y/N has left the chatroom*

Well, that’s that. I met the characters of the game. I got out up from the bed and started walking around the room. This is one big ass room. I wish it was mine. Damn. I checked the closet and to my surprise, it was full of clothing. And by the looks of it, it all looked brand new. As I examined the new surrounding of the beautiful room, my phone rang.

“Hello?” I spoke through the phone.

“Yeah, It’s V. I said I was gonna call?” He confirmed

“Ah, yes, what is it?” I hesitantly asked.

“Let me start off by introducing myself, My name is V and I'm the leader or head of the AFA.” He introduced. “I wanted to ask you something but I was afraid if I asked in the chatroom the other members would be surprised.”

“What is it that you want to ask?” I questioned

“It’s just… you said you knew Aria so, I just wanted to know how you knew her” his voice dropping as he spoke.

“Ahh, she was a friend of my friend’s friend. Basically speaking, she was an acquaintance of a friend I knew.” I lied.

“Ahh, is that so… then I guess you wouldn’t really know anything about her since you guys are distant.” disappointment was written all over his voice. “Anyway, I hope we get along well with each other and get to know each other more”

“Yeah, sure.” I smiled.

“Well, for now, goodbye.”

“Bye,” I hung up.

As I walked towards the big window overviewing a beautiful garden, a knock was audible from the gigantic door.

“Come in,” granting access to whoever was entering the room.

“Y/N? I saw the chat you had with the AIs, you did well.” you looked over to see a smiling Christian by your door. “It was a good chat I assume?” he came closer

“It was okay,” I smiled. “But don’t you think you made them super realistic? Not saying it’s a bad thing.” he smiled at your question

“That’s what I was going for, that’s good I guess.” his soft hands were holding mine, beautiful brown eyes looking straight into mine, smiling as he spoke, “you haven’t had lunch yet right?”

“Not yet, I had to get here remember?” mesmerized by his beautiful brown eyes, I just can’t look away.

“I’ll get you something to eat.” he brought me closer to him. I felt something soft touch my forehead as he started to envelop me with his arms, bringing me into his warm embrace. “If anything happens, please promise me you won’t leave my side, please”

I returned his embrace, nuzzling my face into his chest, “I won’t leave, I promise.”

“Good.” He let me go, eyes locking with mine. “I’ll go get your lunch.” He started to leave.

“Christian, umm… I have this report due in like 3 days and I don’t really have anything to write it on… do you think I can borrow a laptop or a computer or something so I can get it finished?” I played with the hem of my shirt, looking down at the floor, unable to look at him.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll get it with your food.” you can hear him smiling as he left your room.

He’s hot, smart, cute and romantic. He’s practically perfect. A walking Prince Charming, is he not?

[winterbaby89]

As Destiny Has Its Eyes On You Chapter 8/?

All the thanks to @artistic-writer for making this lovely pic.

Summary:

Princess Emma Swan of Misthaven has been prophesied as the Savior since before her birth. Now with the help of a Lieutenant from her past she is going to take her destiny into her own hands, to defeat the Evil Queen.

A/N:

This story is inspired by ’Destiny has its eyes on you’ by the lovely @seriouslyhooked (EmilyBea on FF). With the overwhelming support and love from EmilyBea and @ilovemesomekillianjones (who has graciously agreed to be my beta on this entire project, she can also be found on: AO3, and FF), I am presenting this to the public.

This story is rated ‘M’. I hope you enjoy, and if you haven’t read the works from these lovely ladies, I highly recommend you do so. Chapters 1-4 are based on chapters 1&2 of ‘Destiny Has Its Eyes on You’

AO3  FF.net  Prologue/Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8

About a week after the attack Emma is lounging on one of the barrels near the helm.

“Killian?”

“Yes my love?”

“What is the date?”

“What?”

“What’s the date? I know it’s November, but I’m not sure the day.”

“I do believe it’s the thirteenth, why?”

Emma’s eyes widen, without a word she gets up and heads to the stairs leading to their cabin.

“Emma, is everything okay?” When she continues below deck without answering, Killian has Smee take over and follows her to their quarters. Walking into the cabin he sees she’s pacing and chewing on her bottom lip. “Love, is there significance to the thirteenth?”

She startles at his question. “What? No! Why?”

“When I told you the date you got quiet and pale, then proceeded to run to our cabin where you are currently pacing. What’s wrong? You know you can talk to me.”

“It’s not the thirteenth that’s significant, other than being this far. You’re sure it’s the thirteenth, not say the fifth by chance?”

“Yes love, I double checked my chart, why? What is so wrong with it being the thirteenth? What’s so important about the fifth?”

She takes a couple shuddering breaths before sitting down on the bed. “Killian, you love me right? No matter what?”

Now he’s even more concerned for Emma, still not quite grasping what’s going on. He sits next to her, and taking her hands in his, he looks straight into those beautiful, but worried emerald eyes of hers before he speaks. “No matter what, good or bad, always and forever, I love you, Emma. Now what is going on? I’m worried about you.”

“The date of import is the sixth, it’s the day I always start my… you know... my monthly.”

He notices that Emma is blushing furiously as she speaks. Oh! Killian is stunned by this revelation, and Emma continues on before he has a chance to respond.

“Which I’m sure, due to our more enjoyable daily activities, you’ve noticed I haven’t had my monthly since being with you.” She lets that hang in the air between them for just a moment before continuing. “Killian, I think I know what’s wrong with me. The fact that I’m no longer intact makes it possible. It’s a full week after the sixth, I’m still getting sick almost a week after the attack, no one else is sick but me.” She finally looks him in the eye, still holding his hands. “I’m fairly certain…” Emma pauses a moment to gather her courage before finally revealing her life altering realization. “I’m certain I’m with child.” The tears that have been pooling in her eyes spill over, afraid of his reaction, terrified he’s going to push her away, even though rationally she knows he loves her, and would never do that to her. Damn hormones.

“Emma, you’re certain?” She’s too choked up to answer so she just nods. “Don’t cry, my love. I know this wasn’t something we had planned for, or even thought to take steps against for that matter. Nor is it something we had thought to talk about yet, but I think we’ll make damn fine parents.” He smiles brightly before wrapping her in a hug, kissing her senseless. When they break apart for air, he looks her straight in the eye. “Marry me? I’ve wanted you to be mine since the day we met. I would follow you to the end of the world, or time, and I will do everything in my power to make you happy. My life without you was hollow and dark, and now that you’ve come back into my life it feels like I’m seeing the sun for the first time in years. I will love you and our child with every fiber of my being.” He pauses for a moment so he can get down on one knee, then taking her hands in his he asks her again, “So, what do you say love? Will you marry me?”

Emma is stunned into silence, this is not the reaction she was expecting from him, though she really should have. When she notices the tips of his ears are pink from embarrassment and his smile starts to fade, she’s able to find her voice again. Emma gets down on her knees with Killian, and gathers him up in the strongest hug she can muster. “I would love to be your wife, Killian! I’ve dreamt of it for years, but the crew thinks we’re already married.”

“We can do a small ceremony for now, just you and me, under the stars, and do a larger, grander affair later if you want one. Maybe with your family there…” Killian helps Emma stand back up while they’re still entangled in their embrace, and he perches them back on the edge of their bed.

Her smile falters a little at the thought of her family, but she responds nonetheless, “That sounds perfect. When?”

“Tonight, if you’re feeling well enough for it.”

“Tonight then.”

With a quick kiss he gets up and walks over to his hidden floor safe, opening it up, he pulls out the simple jewelry box he keeps in there. He is looking for something that he has held on to, hoping for just such an occasion. His mother’s ring. It’s a beautiful silver band woven to resemble interlocked vines with a gorgeous two carat stone the same shade of blue as his eyes, the eyes his mother passed on to him and Liam. Sitting next to his mother’s ring is Liam’s ring, the last piece he has of his brother. He has never been able to bring himself to wear it, now it seems meant for this moment. It’s a large silver ring with a rather large emerald set flush in the band, the stone matching Emma’s eyes perfectly. How fitting. The stone in my ring will remind me of Emma’s eyes every time I look at it, and the stone in Emma’s will remind her of my eyes. … Hopefully. Killian takes out the two rings, then places the jewelry box back in the safe and closes it back up before walking over to Emma, who’s still sitting on the bed.

“So what do you think my love? Will they work?” He hands her the two rings to look at.

“They’re perfect. I can tell they’re well loved, who did they belong to?”

“Yours was my mother’s ring, passed to Liam when she died, then to me when he died. Mine… used to be Liam’s, I got it when he died.”

“Oh Killian, I’m sorry. If it’s too painful you don’t have to wear it.”

“I actually think he would like me wearing it like this, I know he would approve. He always liked you.”

“So, we’re really going to do this?”

“Only if you want to Emma, I’ve said before, I want you to be happy, and I will do anything in my power to ensure it. Do not mistake my words though, it would make me the happiest man alive to call myself your husband, and you my wife. But I’ve no wish to hurt you, or sully your reputation-”

Emma quickly cuts him off. “NO! I do want this; I think I always have. Granted this isn’t how I imagined it coming about, but it doesn’t change how I feel about you, or the fact that I want to be your wife. I want to be able to claim you as mine, and mine alone, as much as I am already yours and only ever was yours.”

◊◊◊

Much Later That Night

Killian and Smee are the only people on deck, having dismissed the night crew from their watch a few hours early, which Smee will finish for them after the ceremony is completed. Smee is to act as their witness and officiant even though technically the Captain is the one with the power to perform marriages. Killian’s nerves and excitement are rearing their head in the form of him pacing.

“Sir if I may. If you keep pacing you’re liable to walk through the deck.” Killian just gives him an unamused look. “I must admit sir, I never thought this day would come. I am glad though. She makes you happy. We are all happy for you, both of you.”

“Thank you Mr. Smee. All it took was finding the right woman, and she is the right woman. There is no one her equal, she exceeds every standard. She is the standard. Now we just have to hope the in-laws take the news well. But you and the crew should not expect any change in your Captain, just because I have found my Emma again.”

“Never sir, we would never try to take advantage like that.”

“I know you wouldn’t Smee, but Murdoch and Walsh definitely did…”

“Have you decided what to do about them yet?”

“I… no punishment I come up with feels like it fits their crime.”

“I’m sure you will come up with something sir, and they will be more than deserving of it. Is the Princess feeling better after that traumatic situation?”

“She seems to have put it past her completely.”

“I am very glad to hear it, sir.”

◊◊◊

Emma is putting on one of the two dresses she thought to bring, it’s her first time wearing a dress since her birthday. She’s thankful she thought to grab this dress and bring it with her, it’s perfect for tonight, she thinks. It’s a beautiful silvery grey, silk off-the-shoulder dress, form fitting, hugging her curves in all the right places, hinting at just the right amount of cleavage, while still being comfortable. Killian won’t know what hit him. Emma smiles thinking about Killian, and what tonight means for both of them. The three of us, she thinks happily. Wondering how long it will be before she starts showing, she rests both hands on her still flat belly, and takes a deep breath, “Well, I guess it’s time.”

She smiles as she exits the cabin to head for the stairs and her future. Both men turn hearing her approach, they’re stunned when they catch sight of her as she ascends the stairs up onto the deck. Killian strides over to escort her across the last expanse behind the helm where they’ll become husband and wife.

“You look radiant my love.”

Emma blushes as Killian presses a gentle kiss to her palm. “Thank you, you don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Captain. Princess. Shall we?”

Killian quickly looks at Emma before answering. “Yes Mr. Smee, please.”

Smee just nods his head, beaming at his Captain and his beloved. “We are here on this beautiful, starry, early morning, aboard this magnificent ship to join these two souls as husband and wife, until the end of time. Captain, you may proceed with your declarations.”

“Emma, my love my words are failing me now that we are finally here. Darling, I’m beyond grateful. I’m honored that you love me and have chosen that from this day forward we will walk through life as partners. As husband and wife. I promise to do everything in my power to make sure you know that you are loved and cherished. I will move heaven above and earth below to ensure that you are happy and never want for anything. I love you. And from this day forward know that I am yours body, heart, and soul.” Once he finishes speaking he reaches up with his thumb to brush away the tears rolling down her cheeks.

Smee clears his throat, sounding a little choked up with emotion. “Beautiful, Captain… now Princess, if you will.”

“Killian. My Killian, you were my first love, my only love, my true love. You had my heart from the moment we met, never once did I lose hope we would make it here. No one ever realized I was a girl who just wanted to be loved for being me, not for being the princess, but you did. I will never know how you saw the girl behind the princess, but you did, and I am grateful. Now that I have you back, I can’t imagine a life without you in it, and I’m glad that now I won’t ever have to. I love you. I will do my best to make you happy and ensure you feel my love, from this day forward I am yours body, heart, and soul.”

“Very touching, milady… now the rings. Captain, repeat after me please. With this ring, I, Killian Jones, pledge myself to you, body and soul, from now until the end of time.”  

As he slides his mother’s ring on Emma’s finger Killian repeats the sacred words. “With this ring, I, Killian Jones, pledge myself to you, body and soul, from now until the end of time.”

“Princess, please repeat after me. With this ring, I, Emma Swan, pledge myself to you, body and soul, from now until the end of time.”

She slides Liam’s ring onto Killian’s finger, trying not to cry. “With this ring, I, Emma Swan, pledge myself to you, body and soul, from now until the end of time.”

“With the exchange of rings and declarations of love, with the power provided to me by the Captain, I pronounce you husband and wife. Congratulations, Captain and Mistress Jones. You may kiss your bride, sir.”

Emma gives a watery chuckle as Killian sweeps her off her feet into an earth-shattering kiss filled with every ounce of their love. After a few moments Killian reluctantly breaks the kiss with his wife. Emma’s my wife, Gods above I love this woman, Killian thinks in awed disbelief.

“Thank you Mr. Smee, I think we shall retire for the morning. Be sure to get some rest when the morning watch comes to relieve you. Are we still on schedule to make Oldstown tomorrow afternoon?”

“It was entirely my pleasure, I am truly happy for the both of you. And, yes Captain, we are still on schedule. Should I expect to be in charge of the ship up until we dock, sir?”

“You know Smee, I would say that is a very good idea. But if there is something that needs my attention, know that you can come get me.”

“I will, sir. Again, many congratulations Captain, Mistress Jones. Enjoy your day and a half until we make port.”

“Thank you Mr. Smee, the Captain and I both appreciate your help in taking this special step that we’ve both been waiting for. And I appreciate everything you do for the ship, the crew, and my husband. I hope you have a pleasant rest of the morning.” She walks up hugging him, surprising him, before returning to Killian’s side.

“Good day Mr. Smee.”

“Good day Captain. Mistress.”

“Shall we? Mistress Jones.”

Emma’s heart stutters with happiness. Mistress Jones… we’re married. Finally, he is mine as much as I am his. And to think a month ago I was worried he wouldn’t remember me.

“We shall, Captain Jones.”

Gods above how did I get so lucky? Is this another dream? I will never take Emma’s love for granted… she and our children will never doubt my devotion.

Arriving at the doors to the Captain’s cabin, Killian lifts Emma to carry her across the threshold of their cabin, kissing her thoroughly in the process.

“Killian, you don’t have to carry me, I’m not far enough along that I can’t walk.”

“Love, it is tradition that the husband carry his wife across the threshold of their marriage suite. You don’t want to invite bad luck now do you?”

She playfully swats him in the chest, shaking her head. “No. I guess we wouldn’t want that. Now are you ever going to put me down?”

“Never, love. Never. Now that I have you, I never intend to let you go. And as soon as we get to Oldstown we will seek out the doctor to make sure you are okay.” She starts to interrupt him, but he just raises a hand to stop her, allowing her legs to settle on the floor while keeping his other arm wrapped around her back. “No. You will not fight me on this love, we will have you looked at by the doctor to make sure there are no surprises. After we leave Oldstown it’s still another week, good wind and weather permitting, before we make it to Arendelle. I will not take any chances with your health and life, nor the health and life of our child.” His tone brooks no arguments.

“Killian. Even though we are now married, and even with me being in my condition, neither one negates the fact that I still have to face the Evil Queen.”

“That may be Emma, but we will not take any unnecessary chances and risk you or the baby. I will not try to keep you from your destiny of taking on the Evil Queen, but we will do this the smart way, which does not include charging off half-cocked.”

“Aye-Aye, Captain,” she says. Emma knows he is just concerned for her, but if he insists on orders then she will answer accordingly.

“Now, now, darling, I am not trying to upset you, nor do I wish to control you. Perhaps I need to work on the words I choose?”

“Perhaps,” is her only reply.

“When we arrive in Oldstown I would like to seek out the doctor so he can make sure you and the baby are well. We still have a ways to go before Arendelle, and I think it is better to have you both checked now. Would you agree?”

“That’s better, pirate.” She smiles at him to let him know she does appreciate the sentiment.

“Aye, I thought so,” he replies cheekily, “now let’s get you off to bed, it has been far too long since I have ravished you.” A shiver of anticipation runs up her spine at his words. “I like the dress darling, it’s very becoming on you.”

“I thought you might like it.”

“I think I might like it better on the floor.”

Killian made good on his promise of ravishing her, well past dawn, and every moment they weren’t sleeping until Oldstown came into sight.

◊◊◊

A/N : If anyone is curious, Oldstown is the Southernmost town within the borders of Arendelle. Also, fun fact, I've had this chapter written and queued up since February, and I think the similarities between mine and the shows proposal is adorably funny.

All the thanks to @hollyethecurious for making this lovely aesthetic/collage.

Chapter Nine

Tagging some lovelies to enjoy: @ilovemesomekillianjones, @seriouslyhooked, @jennjenn615, @flslp87, @laschatzi, @ultraluckycatnd, @kmomof4, @xhookswenchx

[pikapepikachuu]

'I’m hungry to start the work': Bill Shorten's five-year journey has just weeks left to run

Normal text sizeLarger text sizeVery large text size Bill Shorten stands on a metal stairway in Australias biggest brewery and tries to convince the assembled workers that the coming election will not be an empty exercise. Whatever you do, you get a politician at the end of it, he concedes, drawing a few smiles from the crowd, but his speech is heavy with warnings about the importance of every ballot paper. How you vote has a direct effect on the laws and conditions you get at work, he says. There is a connection. If you think that everythings going up in Australia but the wages, your vote can change that. If you want to see energy bills get under control, your vote can change that. Shorten worries in private about the apathy among voters who have seen six prime ministers over a dozen years. Here, in front of about 100 workers at the Lion brewery in western Sydney, he is trying to give meaning to the election to be fought on May 11 or May 18. He seems to feel his greatest challenge is to persuade Australians that it matters.

Labor leader Bill Shorten has served two terms as Opposition Leader. Credit:Alex Ellinghausen Shorten projects his voice over the conveyor belts and palletisers. He tells the workers he wants Australia to be a manufacturing nation. He knows their salaries and conditions are good but he says they may have family members in retail and hospitality where the penalty rates have been cut. He talks about Medicare, hospitals, schools, restoring penalty rates and lifting the minimum wage. He promises to force companies to hire more apprentices. The applause is polite but not effusive. Everyone can see the television cameras. They know this is merely a warm-up for the election campaign. A few want to take a selfie with the candidate, but there is none of the manic energy of the 2007 campaign, when Kevin Rudd shocked his own side with his popularity. The wariness in the audience is given voice when Shorten takes questions. One worker asks about negative gearing and gets an assurance that Labors tax increase will allow anyone with an existing rental property to keep claiming a concession. When the public questions are over, someone asks Shorten whether she can trust Labor to stop asylum seekers coming by boat. He assures her she can, but she is not convinced. An older man asks him to do more to help grandparents who have to take custody of their grandchildren but do not get as much support as foster parents. Shorten asks for the mans details so his office can respond in more detail. Advertisement There is no doubt Shorten is match fit for the election. Five-and-a-half years after he became Opposition Leader, he is tantalisingly close to becoming prime minister. To stumble now would be to lose the unloseable election, a spectre so grim he will not rest until polling day. Im hungry to start the work, he tells The Sunday Age and The Sun-Herald. Shorten has a long list of what he wants to achieve in government to deliver real progress in peoples lives. Fifteen years of education. That means genuine, universal access to preschool, he says, reeling off the first item on the list as we travel from Sydneys west to Sydney Airport.

Bill Shorten poses for a selfie during a marginal seat visit in Melbourne.Credit:AAP Weve got to tackle the challenge of dementia and aged care, weve got to help people deal with it better. In the big health fights that people have in their life, weve got to make sure they dont feel financial burden on top of the health challenge. I really want any kid from any postcode in Australia to get all the options TAFE or university, whatever dream they want to pursue. I want merit and how hard you work to be the passport, not how rich your parents are. Theres more. Advertisement Weve really got to be one of the best countries in the world at so much, he says. Why shouldnt we be the best at healthcare and education, why shouldnt we be the best at climate change? We should be an energy superpower. We should have a more independent foreign policy. We should close the gap with the first Australians. Its all about opportunity and fairness. I want every Australian to have opportunity and every Australian to receive fairness. And theyll do the rest. Loading Stone by stone, Shorten and his team have added so many promises they now have a mountain to climb if they win power. They vow to restore penalty rates, change the law to raise the minimum wage, hold a plebiscite on a republic, raise $32.1 billion over a decade from changes to negative gearing and raise $56 billion from changes to tax refunds on dividend imputation. Not least, they promise to spend billions of dollars on energy projects while cutting greenhouse gas emissions by 45 per cent by 2030, in a Parliament that has swung wildly on climate change over two decades. Shorten will not admit he is promising too much. He plays down the risk of a traffic jam in Parliament for his crowded agenda. Well just keep advancing. You can get things done if you want to, he says. As proof, he nominates the National Disability Insurance Scheme, an idea he backed in his earliest days on the Rudd frontbench. Advertisement Rudd, of course, took power in 2007 with a wish-list so long he had to launch dozens of reviews rather than taking immediate action. Shorten insists he can avoid that. Youve got to go in with a clear agenda, Shorten says. And were outlining it. Love us or hate us or be somewhere in between, you cant say were not working out the issues now. We havent been an opposition whos coasted on the mistakes of the government. The government clings to the hope that voters do not like Shorten, given polling that shows more voters disapprove of his performance than approve of it. While voters do not crowd around him when he walks down the main street of Burwood in the electorate of Reid a short time after the brewery visit, there is no sign of hostility. Shorten approaches workers and shoppers outside the Westfield on Burwood Road, striking up conversations and introducing them to the Labor candidate, Sam Crosby. One of the pedestrians, Hana Shahim, asks for a photo with him. Ive always voted Labor, she says. Nobody offers a stronger endorsement.

Bill and Chloe Shorten.Credit:Paul Jeffers The campaign will change this dynamic. The media pack will be bigger, the pressure on Shorten will be higher and the risk of encountering an unhappy voter will be greater. One other difference will be the presence of Chloe Shorten. While Chloe has many other calls on her time, not least family in Melbourne, Labor is hoping to have her on the campaign as often as possible, in the belief that Australians warm to her and Shorten himself campaigns better with her. Advertisement Shortens friends believe he is a stronger campaigner than Prime Minister Scott Morrison and will emerge triumphant in a matter of weeks. With a solid Labor campaign, they say, he might achieve a swing of more than a dozen seats. Helped by a bad Coalition campaign, the swing might reach 20. There are no such boasts from Shorten himself. He is careful not to look like he is taking the result for granted, even though he thinks the Coalition has become a tribe of warring clans that are incapable of running a government. His team assumes the government will rely more heavily on scare campaigns and negative advertising when the election is underway in earnest. Shorten knows how a scare campaign works. He wounded Malcolm Turnbull at the last election with the false claim that the government was privatising Medicare and will revive the health funding message at the election to come. He insists, however, that he wants to give Australians something to vote for, not just vote against. He takes this message to the Holmesglen campus in Melbourne, where he tells students he would put more money into TAFE and increase the cost of visas for skilled foreign workers.

Bill Shorten, flanked by two Labor candidates, speaks to students and teachers at Holmesglen TAFE. Credit:Erik Anderson The message about foreign workers causes unease in the crowd, given some of the students are from overseas and pay fees for their training in the hope of becoming permanent residents one day, but Shorten makes no apology for putting a priority on locals. His pledge to increase the number of apprenticeships is central to his policy platform. As in Sydney one day earlier, Shorten uses his Melbourne visit to try to motivate his audience to vote for change. Again, apathy is the enemy. Whether he is talking about wages or healthcare, he ends his sentences with three words: Your vote matters. Advertisement The fact that Shorten visits Holmesglen with two Labor candidates, Jennifer Yang in the seat of Chisholm and Fiona McLeod in Higgins, is testament to his confidence. Winning Chisholm from the Liberals is a reasonable prospect but taking Higgins would be unthinkable at any other election. Shorten believes he has been tested by his time as Opposition Leader and can be a better prime minister because of it. The contrast with Morrison and Turnbull, both elevated to the leadership from within government rather than winning an election first, is central to the way he sees himself. It is also a big reason why he believes he is ready for the campaign and the work that would come after an election victory. Ive learnt a lot, he says. In opposition thereve been some terrible days and thereve been some good days. The governments run out of steam. Thats a charitable interpretation. I think the nations looking at us to see if were stable, theyre looking to us to give them three years of continuity in government, with no surprises. No surprises? It is an impossible promise, but Shorten is nothing if not confident. And he says he is more than ready. Ive been practising for this for five and a half years. David Crowe is Chief Political Correspondent of the Sydney Morning Herald and The Age. Most Viewed in Politics Loading https://www.smh.com.au/politics/federal/i-m-hungry-to-start-the-work-bill-shorten-s-five-year-journey-has-just-weeks-left-to-run-20190329-p5192d.html?ref=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_source=rss_feed

[icefiregrl]

God’s answered prayers from last week

During my down time, I try to reflect more of God’s blessings in my life and this helps with a couple of things for me

1. Remind me to praise the blesser and not just the blessings

2. Be reminded of who is in ultimate control of my life. 

Boy, do I have a few praises this week! I had 3 specific prayer requests last week and they were all answered so quickly! Praise God for this. Although they were not all answers I would have hoped (actually, they were all negatory in my mind’s eye, but God answers always)

      1. UCLA acceptance letter and God’s plan for that

      2. Continue to work in Santa Monica after I move down to SoCal at end of             April

      3. Planning out finances and scraping up $46,000 for grad school (either               take a loan and have savings? or take little loan and pay as I go and                 have little savings)

God has been revealing truths and clear paths all within 3-4 days since I got the news of not being accepted into UCLA. It was unfortunate to be rejected and know that there are better candidates at the interview. I was so shocked to hear that they are only taking 60 students out of 366 ish applicants! But Im glad I got the opportunity to interview with them and see wonderful candidates believing in social justice and being advocates for title 1 schools. I felt so privileged to be sitting in the same room as them! I definitely felt peace at the fact that there were no questioning on where I should go now and I want to especially thank Mrs Chew for being so encouraging on the phone. I thought they were going to be disappointed in me for not getting into UCLA like the rest of their family :( Steven once said to me something along the lines of “My mom said you went to an UC school so you’re smart” Even though UCSC is a meh school, It was something I found comfort in, being seen as someone who can keep up with their son intellectually. I think thats what hit me the hardest about not getting into UCLA, not seen as smart enough anymore. But Mrs. Chew called me to tell me that shes not disappointed in me and not only that, she encouraged me with stories of Steven as a boy and how sometimes we just can’t see God’s plan because we are so nearsighted. I completely agree. Thank you Mrs. Chew! :) Just two days ago, I finally had a talk with my boss and unfortunately the day that I am leaving for SoCal will be my last day here at HGA. I’m going to miss working on this Stanford Hospital Project. Because I did not study architecture in undergrad, I didnt expect for myself to be so attached to the Children’s Hospital here. After a long 10 year long process, this hospital is finally being completed. I was hoping to continue working on this project until August at our Santa Monica office (when the project is finally done). but they wont have a need for me by May already :( oh no! What am i going to do financially! I love how flexible my job is, I love my paycheck. I love that I only need to take out about a 1,000 dollars in loans every semester instead of thousands and thousands. God is definitely challenging me to be live a more simpler life, a more disciplined life style with simpler needs. He is challenging me to trust Him more, to trust that mustard seeds can move mountains. AND He’s already placing people in my life to ease this challenge. Such as.. Steven.. paying my down payment for my new car. I’m still uncomfortable about it... but it is incredibly generous of him. I keep telling him I’ll pay him back monthly.. but all he says to me is that the money will only go back to us because he sees it as an investment in our relationship. :’) So grateful for having someone like him... alas, my plan is more clear. Even though I wont have job in June, I can actually go on the 11 day cruise with him and his family instead of worrying about whether or not I'm able to take a PTO. Another silver lining is that I am able to defer for another term! I shouldve started classes back in January, but because of church, planning my move and because of work, I deferred until Summer session I. But I’m going to defer until Summer Session 2 now. From beginning of May until end of June (when we come back from cruise / when classes start), Ill have almost two months to look for a new job! Another great praise :) In the past, I always took job search for granted thinking “ oh God will take care of me, he will, i dont need to worry about finding a job” and boom “ I land job after job post college. I see people struggle with finding jobs for 6 months, a year and more but I always got a job less than 3 weeks when I wanted to switch jobs. I definitely did not include God in my job hunt at the time nor praise him until after the fact when I am hired. But this time, I really truly need to include God in this process. I admit I have not been relying on Him as much I should...

Thank you God for these challenges and revealing yourself to me even though these are not the answers I have wanted. Thank you for allowing me to see you through these “bad news”. You however, is Good News and you have already crafted me in this Tapestry of Life. When I can’t see the bigger picture, I pray that I can continue to trust you in day to day life and include you in my decision making process.

Last night I met with my discipler, Valene, and we were supposed to go over Romans together but instead just got caught up with life updates. While she was praying for me, she prayed about a whole spectrum on things, from my packing (purging my possessions, clothes and and emotions) to also praising about the long 2 year journey I had with her. I remember that day well... I had came over to her house with a laptop with like 10% research on what I where I wanted to apply to. I had 0 direction. I remember sitting there crying about how hard it was to get started and how am i able to afford school. I remember meeting her at starbucks on Foothill Blvd at 3pm in the afternoon tutoring me on how to write effective papers for the CBEST. (apparently I was terrible at writing argumentative essays back then, haha) Thank God for someone like Valene. To this day, I still don’t know what could have called me to just randomly shout out to her at church “WILL YOU DISCIPLE ME?!?!” She probably thought I was crazy! Must be God, what else could it have been?! We barely knew each other, but I knew I needed her. God, you knew I needed her. She has been so so so so so good to me and only wants what is best for my heart, even if they’re not things I want to hear. 

I praise you Lord, even though my circumstance is giving me a rougher time than usual, you have taught me more on how to rely on you. As Peter says in 

1 Peter 5:7

Casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.

[amazingviralinfo]

On Oct. 19, as the third and final presidential debate gets going in Las Vegas, Donald Trumps Facebook and Twitter feeds are being manned by Brad Parscale, a San Antonio marketing entrepreneur, whose buzz cut and long narrow beard make him look like a mixed martial arts fighter. His Trump tie has been paired with a dark Zegna suit. A lapel pin issued by the Secret Service signals his status. Hes equipped with a dashboard of 400 prewritten Trump tweets. Command center, he says, nodding at his laptop.

Parscale

Photographer: Alex Welsh for Bloomberg Businessweek

Parscale is one of the few within Trumps crew entrusted to tweet on his behalf. Hes sitting at a long table in a double-wide trailer behind the debate arena, cheek to jowl with his fellow Trump staffers and Reince Priebus, chairman of the Republican National Committee. The charged atmosphere and rows of technicians staring raptly at giant TVs and computer screens call to mind NASA on launch day. On the wall, a poster of Julian Assange reads: Dear Hillary, I miss reading your classified emails.

10:02 p.m.: Trump, onstage, criticizes Hillary Clinton for accepting foreign money. Fire it off! Parscale barks. Instantly, a new Trump tweet appears: Crooked @HillaryClintons foundation is a CRIMINAL ENTERPRISE. Time to #DrainTheSwamp!

10:04 p.m.: Trump blames Clinton for $6 billion that went missing during her tenure at the State Department (actually a bookkeeping error). Hit that hard, shouts Jason Miller, Trumps senior communications adviser. Parscale already has: Crookeds top aides were MIRED in massive conflicts of interest at the State Dept. WE MUST #DrainTheSwamp.

10:09 p.m.: Trump deploys a carefully rehearsed WikiLeaks attack: Podesta said some horrible things about youand he was right. The trailer erupts. There it is! someone shouts. Push that, Parscale commands. Within seconds, Trumps roiling social mediasphere is bestowed with a curated Clinton burn from their leader: Bernie Sanders on HRC: Bad Judgement [sic]. John Podesta on HRC: Bad Instincts #BigLeagueTruth.

When the debate wraps, Parscale leaps up, open laptop still in hand, and bolts from the trailer with Priebus and the rest of the senior staff to congratulate Trump as he comes off the stage. In the wings, Parscale joins Steve Bannon, Trumps Machiavelli and campaign chairman, on leave from Breitbart News Network; Dan Scavino Jr., his social media director; and a clutch of Trump children and their spouses, including Trumps son-in-law, Jared Kushner, whom Parscale considers nearly a brother. Up on stage, Trump had been visibly upset, snapping at Clinton (nasty woman) and tearing a page from his notebook. But a moment later, when he emerges from a dark corridor with a phalanx of Secret Service agents, hes thronged by his worshipful band of advisers, quasi-celebrities, and hangers-on. Parscale, tweeting as he walks, nearly misses him. Trump leans over to whisper into Bannons ear, and a Secret Service officer ushers Trump, Bannon, and Parscale toward a row of black SUVs. A moment later, theyre gone. Trump reclaims possession of his virtual self.

Parscale, now tweeting from his own account, celebrates the nights haul: HUGE 24hrs of online donations for @realDonaldTrump. 125,000+ unique donors grossing over $9,000,000! Thank you America! #MAGA.    

Featured in Bloomberg Businessweek, Oct. 31-Nov. 6, 2016. Subscribe now.

Photographer: Caroline Tompkins for Bloomberg Businessweek

  Almost every public and private metric suggests Trump is headed for a loss, possibly an epic one. His frustrated demeanor on the campaign trail suggests he knows it. Yet even as he nears the end of his presidential run, his team is sowing the seeds of a new enterprise with a direct marketing effort that they insist could still shock the world on Election Day.

Beginning last November, then ramping up in earnest when Trump became the Republican nominee, Kushner quietly built a sprawling digital fundraising database and social media campaign thats become the locus of his father-in-laws presidential bid. Trumps top advisers wont concede the possibility of defeat, but theyre candid about the value of what theyve built even after the returns come inand about Trumps desire for influence regardless of outcome. Trump is a builder, says Bannon, in a rare interview. And what hes built is the underlying apparatus for a political movement thats going to propel us to victory on Nov. 8 and dominate Republican politics after that.

If Trump wants to strengthen his hold on his base, then his apocalyptic rhetoric on the stump begins to make more sense. Lately hes sounded less like a candidate seeking to persuade moderates and swing voters and more like the far-right populist leaders whove risen throughout Europe. Most Republican Party officials ardently hope hell go away quietly if he loses. But given all that his campaignand Kushners group especiallyhas been doing behind the scenes, it looks likelier that Trump and his lieutenants will stick around. They may emerge as a new media enterprise, an outsider political movement, or perhaps some combination of the two: an American UK Independence Party (UKIP) that will wage war on the Republican Partyor, rather, intensify the war that Trump and Bannon have already begun.

To outsiders, the Trump campaign often appears to be powered by little more than the candidates impulses and Twitter feed. But after Trump locked down the GOP nomination by winning Indianas primary, Kushner tapped Parscale, a political novice who built web pages for the Trump familys business and charities, to begin an ambitious digital operation fashioned around a database they named Project Alamo. With Trump atop the GOP ticket, Kushner was eager to grow fast. When we won the nomination, we decided we were going to do digital fundraising and really ramp this thing up to the next level, says a senior official. Kushner, this official continued, reached out to some Silicon Valley people who are kind of covert Trump fans and experts in digital marketing. They taught us about scaling. Theres really not that much of a difference between politics and regular marketing.

When Bannon joined the campaign in August, Project Alamos data began shaping even more of Trumps political and travel strategyand especially his fundraising. Trump himself was an avid pupil. Parscale would sit with him on the plane to share the latest data on his mushrooming audience and the $230 million theyve funneled into his campaign coffers. Today, housed across from a La-Z-Boy Furniture Gallery along Interstate 410 in San Antonio, the digital nerve center of Trumps operation encompasses more than 100 people, from European data scientists to gun-toting elderly call-center volunteers. They labor in offices lined with Trump iconography and Trump-focused inspirational quotes from Sheriff Joe Arpaio and evangelical leader Jerry Falwell Jr. Until now, Trump has kept this operation hidden from public view. But he granted Bloomberg Businessweek exclusive access to the people, the strategy, the ads, and a large part of the data that brought him to this point and will determine how the final two weeks of the campaign unfold.

We have three major voter suppression operations under way 

Several things jump out. Despite Trumps claim that he doesnt believe the polls, his San Antonio research team spends $100,000 a week on surveys (apart from polls commissioned out of Trump Tower) and has sophisticated models that run daily simulations of the election. The results mirror those of the more reliable public forecastersin other words, Trumps staff knows hes losing. Badly. Nate Silvers results have been similar to ours, says Parscale, referring to the polling analyst and his predictions at FiveThirtyEight, except they lag by a week or two because hes relying on public polls. The campaign knows who it must reach and is still executing its strategy despite the public turmoil: Its identified 13.5 million voters in 16 battleground states whom it considers persuadable, although the number of voters shrinks daily as they make up their minds.

Trumps team also knows where its fate will be decided. Its built a model, the Battleground Optimizer Path to Victory, to weight and rank the states that the data team believes are most critical to amassing the 270 electoral votes Trump needs to win the White House. On Oct. 18 they rank as follows: Florida (If we dont win, were cooked, says an official), Ohio, Pennsylvania, North Carolina, and Georgia.

Trump believes he possesses hidden strength that may only materialize at the ballot box. At rallies, hes begun speculating that the election will be like Brexit times five, implying that hell upend expectations much as the Brexit vote shocked experts who didnt believe a majority of Britons would vote to leave the European Union. Trumps data scientists, including some from the London firm Cambridge Analytica who worked on the Leave side of the Brexit initiative, think theyve identified a small, fluctuating group of people who are reluctant to admit their support for Trump and may be throwing off public polls.

Still, Trumps reality is plain: He needs a miracle. Back in May, newly anointed, he told Bloomberg Businessweek he would harness the movement to challenge Clinton in states Republicans havent carried in years: New York, New Jersey, Oregon, Connecticut, California. Im going to do phenomenally, he predicted. Yet neither Trumps campaign nor the RNC has prioritized registering and mobilizing the 47 million eligible white voters without college degrees who are Trumps most obvious source of new votes, as FiveThirtyEight analyst David Wasserman noted.

To compensate for this, Trumps campaign has devised another strategy, which, not surprisingly, is negative. Instead of expanding the electorate, Bannon and his team are trying to shrink it. We have three major voter suppression operations under way, says a senior official. Theyre aimed at three groups Clinton needs to win overwhelmingly: idealistic white liberals, young women, and African Americans. Trumps invocation at the debate of Clintons WikiLeaks e-mails and support for the Trans-Pacific Partnership was designed to turn off Sanders supporters. The parade of women who say they were sexually assaulted by Bill Clinton and harassed or threatened by Hillary is meant to undermine her appeal to young women. And her 1996 suggestion that some African American males are super predators is the basis of a below-the-radar effort to discourage infrequent black voters from showing up at the pollsparticularly in Florida.

Campaign staff in Trump Tower.

Photographer: Alex Welsh for Bloomberg Businessweek

On Oct. 24, Trumps team began placing spots on select African American radio stations. In San Antonio, a young staffer showed off a South Park-style animation hed created of Clinton delivering the super predator line (using audio from her original 1996 sound bite), as cartoon text popped up around her: Hillary Thinks African Americans are Super Predators. The animation will be delivered to certain African American voters through Facebook dark postsnonpublic posts whose viewership the campaign controls so that, as Parscale puts it, only the people we want to see it, see it. The aim is to depress Clintons vote total. We know because weve modeled this, says the official. It will dramatically affect her ability to turn these people out.

The Trump teams effort to discourage young women by rolling out Clinton accusers and drive down black turnout in Miamis Little Haiti neighborhood with targeted messages about the Clinton Foundations controversial operations in Haiti is an odd gambit. Campaigns spend millions on data science to understand their own potential supportersto whom theyre likely already credible messengersbut here Trump is speaking to his opponents. Furthermore, theres no scientific basis for thinking this ploy will convince these voters to stay home. It could just as easily end up motivating them.

Regardless of whether this works or backfires, setting back GOP efforts to attract women and minorities even further, Trump wont come away from the presidential election empty-handed. Although his operation lags previous campaigns in many areas (its ground game, television ad buys, money raised from large donors), its excelled at one thing: building an audience. Powered by Project Alamo and data supplied by the RNC and Cambridge Analytica, his team is spending $70 million a month, much of it to cultivate a universe of millions of fervent Trump supporters, many of them reached through Facebook. By Election Day, the campaign expects to have captured 12 million to 14 million e-mail addresses and contact information (including credit card numbers) for 2.5 million small-dollar donors, who together will have ponied up almost $275 million. I wouldnt have come aboard, even for Trump, if I hadnt known they were building this massive Facebook and data engine, says Bannon. Facebook is what propelled Breitbart to a massive audience. We know its power.

Since Trump paid to build this audience with his own campaign funds, he alone will own it after Nov. 8 and can deploy it to whatever purpose he chooses. He can sell access to other campaigns or use it as the basis for a 2020 presidential run. It could become the audience for a Trump TV network. As Bannon puts it: Trump is an entrepreneur.

Whatever Trump decides, this group will influence Republican politics going forward. These voters, whom Cambridge Analytica has categorized as disenfranchised new Republicans, are younger, more populist and ruraland also angry, active, and fiercely loyal to Trump. Capturing their loyalty was the campaigns goal all along. Its why, even if Trump loses, his team thinks its smarter than political professionals. We knew how valuable this would be from the outset, says Parscale. We own the future of the Republican Party.     Like so many Trump die-hards, Parscale, 40, is an up-from-nothing striver who won a place in the Trump firmament by dint of his willingness to serve the familys needsand then, when those needs turned to presidential campaigning, wound up inhabiting a position of remarkable authority. He oversees the campaigns media budget and supervises a large staff of employees and contractors, a greater number than report for duty each day at Trump Tower headquarters. My loyalty is to the family, he says. Donald Trump says Jump; I say, How high? Then I give him my opinion of where I should jump to, and he says, Go do it.

Parscale was born in a small town outside Topeka, Kan., a self-described rural jock whose size6-foot-8, 240 poundswon him a basketball scholarship to the University of Texas at San Antonio. When injuries derailed his playing career, his interest turned to business. The day I graduated, I skipped the ceremony to go straight to California for the dot-com boom, he says. It was 1999. He became a sales manager for a video streaming company, taught himself programming, and eventually bought some of the companys intellectual property, in digital video and 3D animation, and struck out on his own. But after the dot-com crash, his company failed, he got divorced, and by 2002 he was back in San Antonio, broke and unemployed.

Parscale and his colleagues in his Trump Tower office.

Photographer: Alex Welsh for Bloomberg Businessweek

He hustled consulting gigs, going door to door and cold-calling local businesses. My first year, I tapped on shoulders in a bookstore to get my first customers, people who were buying web books, and asked if they needed help, he says. One day in 2010, the phone rang. It was Kathy Kaye, the new head of Trump International Realty. She said, Would you like to bid on building the Trump website? Parscale recalls. I said yeah. I bid $10,000 on the first website. I think they were shocked how cheap it was. Next thing I know, Im talking to Ivanka. So they signed a contract with me, and I wrote the website by myself. I told em Id give all the money back if they didnt like it.

The Trumps liked it. He eventually built sites for Trump Winery and the Eric Trump Foundation. When Trump launched a presidential exploratory committee, he knew who could build a website for him on the cheap: Parscale charged $1,500.

By then hed partnered with a local designer and expanded into a design and marketing agency, Giles-Parscale. Trumps own approach to self-promotion, reinforced by Kushners advice, was at odds with the highly targeted logic of the web. If youre running a burger shop, you have to let people know that your burgers are good and get them into your shop to buy them, says a source close to the candidate. Its pretty similar with voting: You have to find out what people want and then convince them why your product is the right one.

A poll map.

Photographer: Alex Welsh for Bloomberg Businessweek

Trumps digital operation was focused primarily on tracking down the people who already liked his burgers and getting them to buy more. Parscale began toying with a list of registered voters acquired from a nonpartisan database vendor to learn more about who Trumps backers were. Because the campaign hadnt cultivated his supporters as donors or volunteers, most of what it knew about them came from requests for tickets to his rallies. After a March event in Chicago devolved into a melee, Parscale decided to stop relying on the ticketing service Eventbrite and build his own tool to accept RSVPs. He says he coded the program himself in two days so eventgoers would have to confirm via mobile phone. The added layer would weed out fraudulent requests placing tickets in protesters handsand also collect supporters phone numbers.

Parscale was given a small budget to expand Trumps base and decided to spend it all on Facebook. He developed rudimentary models, matching voters to their Facebook profiles and relying on that networks Lookalike Audiences to expand his pool of targets. He ultimately placed $2 million in ads across several states, all from his laptop at home, then used the social networks built-in brand-lift survey tool to gauge the effectiveness of his videos, which featured infographic-style explainers about his policy proposals or Trump speaking to the camera. I always wonder why people in politics act like this stuff is so mystical, Parscale says. Its the same shit we use in commercial, just has fancier names.

As Kushner, who shares his father-in-laws disdain for political professionals, became more active in the campaigns operations, Parscale emerged from among dozens of vendors into a unique role. Once Jared found Brad, says a campaign official, we were able to avoid building a big team and ran a lot of our back end through his office in San Antonio.

After Trump won the Indiana primary, vanquishing his remaining rivals, Parscale had to integrate his do-it-yourself operation with two established players who would jostle for primacy as supplier of Trumps data. The first was Cambridge Analytica, on whose board Bannon sits. Among its investors is the hedge fund titan Robert Mercer and his daughter, Rebekah, who were about to become some of the largest donors to the Trump cause. Locations for the candidates rallies, long the centerpiece of his media-centric candidacy, are guided by a Cambridge Analytica ranking of the places in a state with the largest clusters of persuadable voters. The other was the Republican National Committee, to which Trump relinquished control over many of its tactical decisions. I told him hes going to want to use the RNC once hes the nominee, says Newt Gingrich. Reince has built a real system, and it can be very valuable to him.

That willingness to embrace what the RNC built allowed them to harness that movement

Soon after Trump secured the nomination, a team from the RNC flew to San Antonio to meet Parscale at his favorite Mexican restaurant and discuss what party officials began describing as the merger. Priebus boasted then of having put more than $100 million into data and infrastructure since Mitt Romneys 2012 loss. More than 10 percent of that cash went solely to beefing up the RNCs e-mail list, which now has a dedicated department of a dozen people managing a list of more than 6 million supporters. To win access to them, Trump negotiated a partnership. The partys online fundraising specialists would use his name and keep 80 percent of the revenue, while Trumps campaign would get the remainder. This is exactly what the party needed the RNC to dobuilding assets and infrastructure and the nominee gets to benefit from it, says Chief Digital Officer Gerrit Lansing.

Trumps team, which hadnt actively raised money during the primaries, was unprepared. I was put in the position of We need to start fundraising tomorrow, says Parscale. That turn was so hasty that when, in late June, Trump sent out his first e-mail solicitation, it ended up in recipients spam folders 60 percent of the time. Typically marketers in that situation would have begun quietly blasting less important messages from a new server to familiarize spam filters with the senders address. Parscale shrugs off the ensuing criticism from technologists. Should I have set up an e-mail server a month earlier? Possibly, he says. We also raised $40 million in two weeks. Woo-hoo, spam rating.

Parscale was building his own list of Trump supporters, beyond the RNCs reach. Cambridge Analyticas statistical models isolated likely supporters whom Parscale bombarded with ads on Facebook, while the campaign bought up e-mail lists from the likes of Gingrich and Tea Party groups to prospect for others. Some of the ads linked directly to a payment page, otherswith buttons marked Stand with Trump or Support Trumpto a sign-up page that asked for a name, address, and online contact information. While his team at Giles-Parscale designed the ads, Parscale invited a variety of companies to set up shop in San Antonio to help determine which social media ads were most effective. Those companies test ad variations against one anotherthe campaign has ultimately generated 100,000 distinct pieces of creative contentand then roll out the strongest performers to broader audiences. At the same time, Parscale made the vendors, tech companies with names such as Sprinklr and Kenshoo, compete Apprentice-style; those whose algorithms fared worst in drumming up donors lost their contracts. Each time Parscale returned to San Antonio from Trump Tower, he would find that some vendors had been booted from their offices.

Parscales department not only paid for itself but also was the largest source of campaign revenue. That endeared it to a candidate stingy with other parts of the budget. When Trump fired his campaign manager, Corey Lewandowski, Parscales responsibilities grew, then further still when Lewandowskis replacement, Paul Manafort, flamed out. In June, Parscale, whose prior political experience was a Bexar County tax assessors race (his client lost), became Trumps digital director and, in many ways, the linchpin of his unusual run.

By the time Bannon became chief executive officer, Parscale had balanced the competition between the RNC and Cambridge Analytica, with different sources of data being tapped for the campaigns fundraising appeals, persuasive communication, and get-out-the-vote contacts. Im the only one that hasnt gained from any of this, he says pointedly about the data rivalry.

In June, Parscale granted his first national interview, to Wired, to preemptively explain why the Federal Election Commission was about to report that an unknown agency in San Antonio was the Trump campaigns largest vendor. In August, Giles-Parscale handled $9 million in business from Trumps campaign; two months later, the companys total haul had cleared $50 million, most of it money passing through to online ad networks at little markup. Parscale was delivering his services at such a discount that Kushner even worried that the agencys efforts might have to be classified as an in-kind contribution. Jareds a big part of what gave me my power and ability to do what Ive been doing, says Parscale, who sees himself as more than just a staffer. Because you know what I was willing to do? I was willing to do it like family.

There are signs that Trumps presidential run has dealt a serious blow to his brand. His inflammatory comments about Mexican rapists and demeaning comments about women triggered a flood of busted deals and lost partnerships. Macys stopped making Trump-branded menswear, Serta halted its line of mattresses emblazoned with his logo, and celebrity chefs fled his new luxury hotel in Washington. Booking websites show that visits to Trump-branded hotels are down. Win or lose, Trumps future may well lie in capitalizing on the intense, if limited, political support he has cultivated over the past year.

According to a source close to Trump, the idea of a Trump TV network originated during the Republican primaries as a threat Kushner issued to Roger Ailes when Trumps inner circle was unhappy with the tenor of Fox Newss coverage. The warring factions eventually reconciled. But Trump became enamored by the power of his draw after five media companies expressed interest. One thing Jared always tells Donald is that if the New York Times and cable news mattered, he would be at 1 percent in the polls, says the source. Trump supporters really dont have a media outlet where they feel theyre representedCNN has gone fully against Trump, MSNBC is assumed to be against Trump, and Fox is somewhere in the middle. What we found is that our people have organized incredibly well on the web. Reddit literally had to change their rules because it was becoming all Trump. Growing the digital footprint has really allowed us to take his message directly to the people.

Its not clear how much of this digital audience will remain in Trumps thrall if he loses. But the number should be substantial. Trump will get 40 percent of the vote, and half that number at least will buy into his claim that the election was rigged and stolen from him, says Steve Schmidt, John McCains 2008 presidential campaign chief and an outspoken Trump critic. That is more than enough people to support a multibillion-dollar media business and a powerful presence in American politics.

Kushner and Bannon at a Trump rally in Canton, Ohio, on Sept.14.

Photographer: Alex Welsh for Bloomberg Businessweek

Digital strategists typically value contact lists at $3 to $8 per e-mail, which would price Trumps list of supporters anywhere from $36 million to $112 million. The Trump enterprise could benefit from it in any number of ways. The easiest move would be for Trump to partner with Bannons global Breitbart News Network, which already has a grip on the rising generation of populist Republicans. Along with a new venture, Trump would gain a platform from which to carry on his movement, built upon the millions of names housed in Project Alamo. This is the pipe that makes the connection between Trump and the people, says Bannon. He has an apparatus that connects him to an ever-expanding audience of followers.

As it happens, this cross-pollination of right-wing populist media and politics is already occurring overseasand Trumps influence on it is unmistakable. In early October, the editor-in-chief of Breitbart London, Raheem Kassam, a former adviser to Nigel Farage, announced he would run for leader of UKIP. His slogan: Make UKIP Great Again.

The final ignominy for a Republican Party brought low by Trump is that its own digital efforts may undermine its future. The data operation in which Priebus and the RNC invested so heavily has fed into Project Alamo, helping Parscale build Trumps base. They brought to the table this movement and people who were willing to donate and activate, and we brought to the table a four-year investment and said we can process that for you, says Sean Spicer, the RNCs chief strategist. That willingness to embrace what the RNC built allowed them to harness that movement.

If the election results cause the party to fracture, Trump will be better positioned than the RNC to reach this mass of voters because hell own the list himselfand Priebus, after all hes endured, will become just the latest to invest with Trump and wind up poorer for the experience.

SoundCloud: Bloomberg Businessweek Cover Story by Bloomberg