#do it george ruin them! have your regina george moment! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maybeimamuppet · 2 years ago

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i love you three

hello happy wednesday have this yeeha

requested byyyyy gracerailly on ao3!! fun lil getting together thing!!

tw for

panic attacks

strongly implied bpd

slightly disordered eating habits/mentioned ED

and as always if i’ve missed something please let me know so i can add it!

enjoy!

————-

It’s not often that Regina George gets stressed. It’s even less often that she gets stressed to the point of pacing around her room in a fury. And even less often than that does she get stressed enough to ask for help. But today is one of those days.

So she texts her friends.

georgewashington: Why did you guys forgive me?

africabytoto: Uh… are you okay?

gaylien: you really just dive right in huh no hello nothing

georgewashington: I’m sorry but this is important and I’m freaking out.

africabytoto: I mean… I forgave you because I hurt you just as bad as you hurt me but I don’t really think that’s the answer you’re looking for

georgewashington: I’ll take anything. I just want to know why.

gaylien: i’m still working on it but i forgave you bc i could see you’re really working to change. and i know that’s not easy, and plastic regina never did anything the hard way. so that means you must’ve already done some changing for the better

georgewashington: Oh.

gaylien: and ik it really sucked but getting hit by a bus also did you a couple favors

africabytoto: Janis Olivia Sarkisian

gaylien: uh oh

georgewashington: No, that’s a fair point.

africabytoto: Really though, are you okay Regina ???

georgewashington: I don’t know.

africabytoto: Do you wanna talk about it?

Regina calls her immediately. She has to tell someone. And Cady and Janis are both trustworthy. Well, trustworthy enough.

“Hey, Regina,” Cady says. Regina can hear the concern in her voice. “Janis wanted to hear too, so you’re on speaker, but if this is personal you can just let me-”

“I’m in love with Gretchen! And… and Karen,” Regina bursts out. “Both of them.”

“Damn, Reg, you really know how to pick ‘em,” Janis laughs. Regina groans and buries her face in her hands, even though they can’t see her.

“I don’t know what to do,” she mumbles. “I can’t tell them, but… hanging out with them is so hard now, I’m always trying not to let it slip. If I don’t tell them I’ll lose them and if I do tell them I’ll lose them. I just… I don’t know which one I’d prefer.”

“Why do you think you’d lose them?” Cady asks gently.

“Because look at what I did to them,” Regina groans, rolling onto her back on her pink bedspread and staring at her ceiling. “Everything. I tormented them from the moment we met. I ruined Gretch’s self esteem, and Karen didn’t make it out unscathed either. I could’ve killed them. I’m lucky they’re even still willing to be around me.”

“But they are,” Cady says. “And that means they forgave you too. They’re still your friends.”

“Yeah, friends,” Regina says. “And they’re together, they belong together, and they’re happy, and here I am trying to wiggle my way in and ruin it again. There’s no chance they’d ever stick around if I told them.”

“I stuck around,” Janis says. “In middle school. There’s always a chance they will.”

“But how would… they’re already together,” Regina mumbles.

“People can be polyamorous, Reginald,” Janis chides. “What’s the worst that would happen if you told them?”

“They’d leave me forever and hate me,” Regina says immediately.

“And what’s the worst that would happen if you didn’t tell them?”

“I… I would leave them forever and they wouldn’t know why,” Regina says quietly.

“This should be your choice, but I think I know which of those you’d rather have happen,” Janis says. “If you care this much about them, and we know damn well you do, then I think your choice should be pretty easy.”

“But you guys are friends with them too, I don’t want to… cause a rift, or anything,” Regina says.

“I don’t think you will. But you deserve happiness as much as any of us, I think you should take the chance regardless. The rest of us can deal with whatever happens. We’ve all been through a lot together, we can do a little more,” Cady says.

Regina is quiet for a long time. “You guys really think they like me back?”

“I think Karen definitely does,” Cady says. “And I’d be surprised if Gretchen never had feelings for you.”

“After everything?”

“Yes, after everything. They’re still around,” Cady chuckles. “And we already went through the worst case scenarios. I think you’ll have a better result than either of those.”

“Okay,” Regina mumbles.

“You gonna tell them?” Janis asks.

“Yeah. At some point. Gretchen is coming home for the summer, she gets here tomorrow. I’ll have… two and half months, roughly,” Regina sighs. “I’ll… I’ll tell them before she leaves again. Then we’ll be apart if they don’t react well and they won’t have to see me again.”

“I think that sounds like a good plan,” Cady says. “But you should give yourself some more credit, Regina. You’re a really good person now. I think you have a solid chance here.”

“I hope so,” Regina whispers. “Thanks, guys. I’ll… uh… I’ll let you know how it goes, I guess.”

“Of course! Good luck,” Cady says kindly.

“Thanks.”

I’m gonna need it.

————-

Regina goes with Karen to pick Gretchen up from the airport.

Karen is bouncing slightly with her eagerness to see her girlfriend in person for the first time since winter break, and Regina stands next to her anxiously biting her lips. She really needs to stop doing that. It makes her lipstick all patchy.

She’s in the middle of thinking that they probably make gross lipstick to stop habits like that when Karen suddenly runs forward, sprinting full tilt at something. Or someone.

Regina follows as quickly as she can, her heart aching slightly as she sees Karen throw herself at Gretchen and Gretchen squeeze Karen back just as tightly before slamming their lips together. How she longs to be sandwiched in one of those hugs. Feel those lips- stop it, Regina.

She gives them a moment alone before she moseys over and gives a quiet cough to announce her presence. Gretchen breaks away from Karen with a startled gasp and looks her way.

“Oh my god, Gina!” Gretchen squeals happily, wrapping Regina in a hug of her own. Regina smiles happily and returns it. She notices absently that neither of them tense anymore. It’s a nice feeling. “I didn’t know you were coming to get me too, I’m so happy to see you! I brought you the most delicious macarons from this bakery, I-I hope you like them…”

Regina squeezes her best friend. “You have good taste, Gretch. If you think they’re delicious then they must be. I can’t wait to try them.”

Gretchen smiles in relief and gives her another side hug. “I hope they didn’t break. Let me go get my bags and then we can go.”

——

“Gretchen. I need, like, seven hundred more boxes of these,” Regina groans happily around a mouthful of macaron. She flops backwards onto Gretchen’s bed in delight. “Or just take me back with you.”

“You just want to eat cookies all day while I’m at school?”

“Yeah!” Regina says. “You be the breadwinner and I’ll stay home and clean and eat cookies. Do trophy wife shit.”

“What about me?” Karen adds, stealing one of Regina’s macarons. Regina bats her hands away with a whine.

“You have your own!”

“Yours are strawberry!”

“Then gimme a chocolate one,” Regina says. Gretchen giggles at their antics as she hangs all her clothes back in her closet. “You can stay home with me and eat cookies. But you have to share.”

“I can live with that,” Karen nods. Gretchen hangs up one more sundress before falling backwards onto her bed in between them.

“You two are nuts.”

“Hey!”

“Ooh, do they have ones with nuts?” Regina asks. Gretchen laughs freely at that, and Regina smiles too. It’s good to see her happy.

Just don’t kiss her.

Yet.

————-

Gretchen invites Regina, Karen, Janis and Cady over the next week for a get together, now that she’s had a bit of time to get settled back in America and recover from her jet lag.

Regina gets there a bit early, like she always does. Punctuality is everything, after all.

Gretchen opens the door for her and immediately pulls her into a hug. “Hi!”

“Hi,” Regina says back, resting her chin on Gretchen’s shoulder and giving her a gentle squeeze. Gretchen always smells like freshly baked muffins. It’s comforting.

Much sooner than she wants to, Regina pulls back and follows Gretchen inside. Gretchen gently closes the door behind them and leads her to the kitchen.

“There’s cookies if you want, I just made them,” she offers. “But I know you don’t eat desserts.”

“That was before,” Regina whispers, almost ashamed. She’s made a lot of progress in her recovery, but she also still has a long way to go.

Gretchen seems to pick up on her discomfort and hesitancy, because of course she does. She heads to the plate and picks up two of the best looking snickerdoodles. One gets gently offered to Regina, not pressuring, just… there. The other stays in her other hand.

Regina takes the offered cookie. Gretchen holds out hers and gently bonks them together. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” Regina says back with a small grin. She’s hardly even thinking about it when she takes a bite at the same time as Gretchen. “Oh my god.”

“Good?”

“Amazing,” Regina replies. “You’re really talented, G.”

“Thanks,” Gretchen says sheepishly. Regina thinks she spies the slightest hint of a blush on her cheeks. Nah, probably just reading into things too much.

Some kind of tension or another continues building, and they’re both almost relieved when Karen comes parading down the hall to find them. “Hey, girl gang. Ooh, cookies.”

“Hi, honey,” Gretchen giggles, giving her girlfriend a snickerdoodle-sweetened kiss. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Karen says, giving her one more kiss before raiding the plate for her own cookies.

Gretchen sneaks up when she takes a bite of one and steals the other half from her mouth with a sly smirk. Regina feels her heart give a painful squeeze and looks away, wondering if she should go to another room to give them a moment alone.

Right when she’s about to, they break apart from each other and turn to her, blushing like they had forgotten she was there. She doesn’t blame them.

“Sorry,” Karen chuckles.

“Don’t be,” Regina says. “You guys are cute.”

They both look at her a bit oddly at her omission of the word together, but Regina looks away before they can read her expression.

“Hi,” she continues, fiddling with a stray thread on her pants. She’d never pull on it, knowing how quickly that leads to disaster. A fashion sin. But it gives her something to focus on.

“Hi,” Karen grins. “This is nice.”

“Yeah,” Gretchen agrees, perched on the counter. “Like old times.”

“Really old. All we’re missing is fifth grade homework to do,” Regina chuckles. “It is nice, though. I’ve really missed this.”

“So have we,” Karen says. Gretchen nods with a bittersweet smile.

“We have a lot of time to make up for,” Regina says.

“So we will,” Karen says. Matter of factly, no ifs ands or buts about it. With a smile. Regina is almost blindsided, but she smiles back.

“Yeah. Starting today.”

Gretchen and Karen both beam at her. Regina keeps her smile as they reach for a group hug.

“I love you guys,” she whispers. Her friends may never know what she means.

They haven’t hugged like this since they were in elementary school. Regina can hardly remember the last time she’d even hugged them individually.

It feels amazing.

“We love you too,” Karen replies. Gretchen is quiet, but they both know she loves them too. They’ve always been able to read her best, even without speaking.

—-

Cady and Janis show up a bit later, both suspiciously missing their lip makeup. Nobody bothers to question it.

Cady makes easy conversation with everyone, ever the extrovert. Janis seems much more hesitant, following her girlfriend around like a lost puppy and only joining in on the conversations periodically. Regina supposes they still have a long way to go with her.

Eventually, the chatting loses steam, and they don’t know what to do with themselves. They’re all scattered around the living room, staring aimlessly at something or another.

“Do you guys want to swim? We just got the pool all set up for the summer,” Gretchen says anxiously after a while.

“Fuck yeah!” Janis agrees immediately. Cady gently flicks her ear. “Yes, please.”

“Okay,” Gretchen giggles. “I have plenty of bathing suits, you guys can just borrow one. We’re all… close enough to the same size.”

Everyone follows Gretchen up the stairs to her bedroom. Gretchen herself picks her favorite swimsuit, and tosses the rest onto her bed for everyone else to look through.

Regina is the last one to go, since she’s working on patience and not always getting the best option. She winces a bit when she sees the only one left is a bikini, and a rather small one at that.

“What’s up?” Karen asks. Regina looks around and sees they’re alone together now, everyone else having scattered to one of the many, many rooms in Gretchen’s house to get changed.

“Nothing. I just… don’t feel like swimming today,” Regina lies quickly, trying to keep her tone upbeat so Karen doesn’t catch on. “I’ll just watch.”

Karen shoots her a look that tells her she sees right through her. Regina sighs. She should’ve known. Karen’s always been able to read her better than anyone. Better than she can read herself.

“This bathing suit would show my back,” Regina mumbles, twisting the fabric around in her hands. “I still have scars. From… you know.”

“Oh,” Karen says. “You know we’d never judge you, right?”

“I know,” Regina nods, still refusing to look her in the eye. She jumps a bit when Karen’s hand suddenly takes the swimsuit from her and shoves another into her grip. “Wh-”

“That’s a one piece. I’ve worn it enough times to know it’ll cover enough of your back,” Karen says with a grin. Regina gives her a grateful one back.

“Thanks.” Karen just nods. She gasps quietly when Regina wraps her in a tight hug. “Really. Thank you.”

“Of course,” Karen says back, returning the embrace. “You don’t have to hide, but if it makes you more comfortable for now I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“You’re so wise,” Regina teases. Karen huffs a bit. “No, really. You’re more emotionally intelligent than all of us combined.”

“That’s not saying very much,” Karen grins. Regina scoffs sarcastically and rolls her eyes.

“We’re working on it,” she huffs. “I’ll meet you out there.”

“Okay. Love ya,” Karen replies, blowing her a kiss and heading to get changed. The meaning behind their usual salute is… different, now.

Regina likes it much better this way.

——

Karen keeps shooting her glances throughout their time in the pool, seemingly checking on her. Regina tries to reassure her every time, but she’s also not trying to stop her. It’s kind of nice, knowing someone cares enough to keep making sure she’s okay.

After about the tenth check in, Karen seems content that Regina is comfortable enough in their swapped swimsuits and with everyone around, and manages to rope everyone into playing mermaids with her.

“Do you guys remember that time when we were, like, eight and playing this? And Karen was convinced she could actually breathe underwater?” Janis laughs as she rides around on Cady’s back piggyback style.

“Oh my god, yeah!” Gretchen cackles. “Poor thing almost drowned.”

“I did not! I was only in the hospital for one night!” Karen defends.

“No, but the worst part is the rest of us almost tried it too! You were so convincing,” Regina laughs, bent over slightly with the force of it. “Until you got a good lungful of chlorine. That was scary.”

“Oh, yeah, you were scared,” Karen huffs with a laugh. “I’m the one who almost died.”

“You just said you didn’t almost die!”

Cady seems very confused as the rest of them get into a good natured argument, but she has a smile on her face watching the lot of them.

She doesn’t even feel the need to reprimand Janis for joking, “Don’t look, Regina, there’s girls in their bathing suits,” when they all get out for a sandwich break.

“Shut up,” Regina chuckles. “Like you haven’t been staring at Cady’s ass since before she even put on the bathing suit.”

“I’m allowed to,” Janis pouts. “Not my fault Caddy’s pretty.”

“I never said she’s not,” Regina hums. “But you could stand to learn some subtlety.”

“Like you haven’t been-”

Regina decides she can’t risk Janis finishing that sentence and promptly tackles her back into the pool.

“Hey, my peanut butter!” Janis whines as soon as she’s back above the water, holding the soggy remnants of her peanut butter sandwich.

“It’s your own fault,” Regina huffs.

“I was just gonna-” Janis tries. Regina tackles her back under the water. Janis manages to wiggle free this time, popping above the surface to gasp for breath before she pounces to get her revenge. Even Janis is careful with her back.

“Should we stop them?” Cady asks in concern.

“Nah,” Karen says. “Rule of twos. They’re figuring something out and having fun at the same time. Bikini emoji. Hey, that’s another one!”

“Should I make Janis another sandwich?” Gretchen asks, laughing as Regina lets out a sort of squawk as she briefly pops above the surface.

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Cady says. “She did deserve it.”

“Do you know what they’re fighting about?”

“I have a hunch,” Cady sighs. She looks up to see Gretchen and Karen both looking at her expectantly. “Oh, but, uh… who can tell with them, y’know?”

They both look like they want to press further, and Cady finds herself already wondering what town she’s gonna have to move to in order to avoid Regina’s wrath if she tells them what she knows.

But luckily for her, they both sigh affectionately and look back to their friends.

“If they drown each other will you guys act as my witnesses so I don’t have to pay a bunch of money in a liability lawsuit?” Gretchen asks softly.

“We got you, girl,” Cady sighs.

————-

A week later, Regina has some very important plans to make. She starts off by texting Gretchen.

georgewashington: Do you have plans for Karen’s birthday?

Gretchen, as always, answers almost immediately.

fetchen: no i’m panicking about it!!

fetchen: her 21 is a big deal but i have no ideas!

georgewashington: Do you want to plan together?

fetchen: yes

fetchen: omg regina ur a lifesaver

georgewashington: Don’t speak too soon.

fetchen: oh boy

georgewashington: Can you handle getting her cake and some snacks and stuff she likes? You know her tastes better than I do.

georgewashington: I’ll find a place and invite people.

fetchen: yeah i can do that!

fetchen: where are u thinking of doing it??

georgewashington: Oh just leave that to me.

fetchen: should i be scared?

georgewashington: Probably.

————-

Gretchen and Regina both spend weeks getting everything ready for Karen’s birthday. Karen knows they have plans with the three of them together, but she has no idea of the actual scale of what Regina and Gretchen have been preparing.

Gretchen isn’t totally sure either. Regina told her how many people to buy food for, and Gretchen baked the cake herself. It’s strawberry, Karen’s favorite flavor.

Regina picks Gretchen up on the day, managing to stuff everything into the trunk of her small car before they’re off to pick up Karen.

“Wait!” Regina says before Gretchen can get out of the car and run to her girlfriend. Gretchen freezes and turns to her.

“Wh- oh my god,” Gretchen laughs. She puts on the party hat extra carefully so as not to mess up her hair and takes the party popper. Regina does the same, and they head up to fetch Karen.

“Happy birthday!” they both yell when Karen opens the door, pulling the strings on their poppers and covering Karen in confetti.

Karen shrieks in surprise, but laughs when she sees it’s just them. Regina lets her kiss Gretchen in greeting, used to the ache in her chest by now.

“Happy birthday, baby,” Gretchen murmurs.

“Happy birthday,” Karen whispers back absently. “Wait.”

“Thanks,” Gretchen giggles. “Come on, we have to go!”

“Go where?” Karen asks.

“To your surprise, duh!” Regina responds, wrapping her in a tight hug and spinning her around. “Oh, here.”

Karen laughs as she gets a birthday princess sash and a matching tiara. She’s not so keen on the blindfold that follows it. “Hey, what?”

“It’s a surprise, you can’t see where we’re going,” Regina says like it’s obvious, tying the blindfold behind Karen’s head and smoothing out her soft blonde hair beneath it. “Come on.”

She gently takes Karen’s right hand to guide her, while Gretchen takes her left. “Watch the step.”

“I don’t like this,” Karen whines.

“Shush, you’ll be fine. Don’t you trust us?” Regina asks.

“No.”

“Hey!”

—-

“Oh. My. God,” Gretchen laughs when she sees where Regina has given them. “Regina, you’re kidding.”

“I would never, how dare you,” Regina replies with a smirk. “KK, you ready?”

“I don’t know,” Karen replies nervously. “Teeth emoji.”

“You’ll be fine, c’mon,” Regina chuckles. She climbs out of the car and smiles at Gretchen as she goes around to help Karen out of the passenger seat. Gretchen helps walk Karen to the best spot for the reveal. “Ready?”

“Yes,” Karen says, still anxious, but a wide smile on her face. Regina carefully removes the blindfold.

“Surprise!” they yell.

“No way!” Karen squeals when she sees all her friends and close family standing in front of Chuck E. Cheese.

“You said your favorite birthday party was your ninth when we had it here,” Regina replies, wrapping her arms around Karen’s shoulders to hug her from behind. It’s pushing the limits of platonic, but it’s believable enough for best friends to do. “Do you like it?”

“Yes! Can we go in?!” Karen asks eagerly. Regina nods and laughs as Karen grabs their hands and runs them towards the doors. Gretchen holds onto her party hat with her free hand so it won’t fall off as they hurtle towards the building.

Karen bounces eagerly as she gets her invisible ink stamp on her hand and laughs as she sees the whole party set up at one of the actual tables they have for kid’s parties.

“You actually paid for a party for me?” she asks.

“Yeah, of course,” Regina shrugs. “I think Chuck himself is delivering the pizza when it’s ready. And you get to catch tickets in the wind tunnel thingy.”

“I thought I was too old,” Karen says, looking around at everything with a smile.

“They said they’d be happy to as long as nobody gets ‘intoxicated,’” Regina chuckles. “Come on, we have to play the basketball game.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah!” Karen says eagerly, running off in that direction.

—————

Regina smiles seeing Karen running around to all the different games, greeting all her relatives and friends and taking all sorts of selfies with Charles Entertainment Cheese himself.

“This was really nice,” Gretchen says as she plays a round of skee ball against Regina. “You did a great job.”

“So did you,” Regina replies. “That cake looked amazing. And it tasted even better.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” Gretchen says with a smile. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Regina asks in confusion, looking at her and entirely missing the target. “Dammit.”

“For this. And… just, everything, lately. You have no idea what our relationship now has been doing for me,” Gretchen mumbles. “My therapist even noticed.”

“Because you were only in therapy in the first place because of me,” Regina sighs.

“No, Regina,” Gretchen says. “My anxiety is genetic, it’s not your fault.”

“I didn’t help,” Regina replies. “You can’t tell me you wouldn’t have been in a better place without me.”

“Maybe I can’t,” Gretchen agrees softly. “But I wouldn’t have you now. The way you are now. And I don’t know if I could handle that.”

“I’m glad to be here,” Regina murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve apologized plenty,” Gretchen comforts. “And seeing you working on yourself means more to all of us than any apology could. No more ice queen.”

“I think I can leave that to Elsa,” Regina giggles. “It feels so much nicer to not be… like that. Like… it feels like I’ve been kinda… behind a mirror this whole time. Like I was me, but not, you know?”

“I feel like that a lot,” Gretchen says with a nod. “And the kicker is you locked yourself in the mirror.”

“Yeah,” Regina sighs. “But we’re punching through it now.”

Gretchen smiles at her as she nudges her with an elbow. “Yeah, we are. And I’m gonna punch you if you don’t stop cheating.”

“I’m not cheating!” Regina scoffs indignantly. “You’re still winning.”

“Ha, so you admit it!” Gretchen practically cackles.

“I’m gonna steal all your tickets.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I, though?”

—-

Regina smiles as she looks in the rearview mirror on the drive home and sees Karen and Gretchen cuddled up together, decked in too-small plastic jewelry and holding various little trinkets they ‘won’ with their tickets.

She wasn’t sure how Chuck E. Cheese would be received for a twenty-one year old, but Karen really seemed to enjoy it, and that’s all that really matters to Regina.

Gretchen wakes up a bit when she feels the jostle of them pulling into Regina’s driveway, but Karen is still deep asleep.

“KK, come on,” Regina whispers, gently shaking her awake. “Let’s go inside.”

Karen yawns and stretches, looking around to see where she is. She smiles sleepily when she sees Regina, and it grows when she sees Gretchen cuddled into her.

Regina helps them out of the car and up to her bedroom for a sleepover, tossing pajamas at the both of them and heading to change into her own. She rolls her eyes when she comes back to see them lying sideways in her bed instead of on the floor beds she set up.

“Make room, losers,” she whispers, finding her way over in the darkness. Karen scoots closer to a sound asleep Gretchen so Regina has room to lie down.

“Happy birthday, Karen,” Regina whispers.

“Thanks,” Karen replies, slurring a bit with her exhaustion. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

“Love you,” Karen yawns, rolling onto her side and cuddling into Gretchen. Regina tenses.

“Love you too.”

Way more than you know.

—————

Regina always throws a rager for the Fourth of July. It used to be her parent’s deal, but she had taken over all the party planning by the time she was seven. This year is no exception.

She’s spent months looking for the nicest quality fireworks (i.e. the ones least likely to explode on them and cause severe injury), buying hot dogs and burgers and other snacks, and buying up all the red, white and blue decorations she could get her hands on.

“Mom, wait, those are supposed to go on the railings outside,” she says when she sees her mom about to hang some streamers from the ceiling.

“Oh, sorry, baby! On it,” her mom says rapidly.

“It’s alright. They looked good there, if we have extra you should put some there too,” Regina replies. Her mom smiles, and Regina feels her heart ache a bit at the relief visible in her eyes. Her relationship with her mom was the first one she started working to repair after coming home from the hospital. “Kylie, can you start setting the food up? Leave everything cold in the fridge, we’ll get that out closer to when people start getting here. But chips and stuff?”

“Fine,” Kylie whines, trudging off to the kitchen to help. Regina rolls her eyes and grabs her own box of decorations for the front porch.

She ties some balloons to the posts in front of the house, and hangs a sign next to the front door. She’s jumping up and down trying to hang some swirly things from the archway when she hears voices behind her.

She whirls around, seeing Gretchen and Karen walking up the driveway towards her. They both wave and pick up the pace to a sort of jog to come greet her.

“Hey,” Regina says. “What are you guys doing here, it doesn’t start for-”

“We figured you might need some help setting up,” Gretchen says. “I brought ice, by the way. Can never have enough.”

“Oh my god, I totally forgot ice,” Regina says frantically. “God, you’re a life saver!”

“It’s no problem,” Gretchen chuckles, accepting the hug Regina gives. “What do you need?”

“I don’t even know,” Regina sighs, looking around at everything left to be done.

“You’re not even dressed yet, we have to do that!” Karen says. “Come on.”

“Karen!” Regina yelps as she grabs her hand and drags her through the house, up the stairs to her bedroom. “What about Gretchen, she doesn’t know what to do!”

“We’ve helped you set up enough parties to know how you like it decorated, she’ll figure it out. Now get dressed,” Karen insists, rooting through the makeup on her vanity.

Regina pouts a bit and grabs the bag of clothes she bought the other day. She hadn’t meant to buy an entire new outfit for yet another party, but some habits die hard.

She pulls on her red and white striped off-the-shoulder top and ties the knot into the fabric by her bellybutton. Cady has recently re-introduced her to a wonderful world of proper denim, so she’s paired it with some jean shorts.

“You look nice!” Karen compliments when Regina comes out of her en-suite. “Haven’t seen you wear blue denim in years.”

“It’s so comfy,” Regina says in wonder, tugging at the fabric. “I had totally forgotten.”

“Yeah, clothes designed to actually fit a human person are usually like that,” Karen teases. “Can I do your makeup? Pleeeeeease please please please?”

“Yes, fine,” Regina giggles. “Make me pretty, Miss Smith.”

“I can’t do that,” Karen replies as she brushes primer over Regina’s face. Regina scrunches up her nose as the bristles tickle it, making Karen laugh. “You’re already pretty.”

“So are you,” Regina replies softly. “In so many ways.”

“Thanks,” Karen replies, flushing a brilliant pink. “Hold still.”

Regina does, sitting obediently while Karen tenderly covers her skin in a BB crème and perfectly swipes some blue eyeliner on. She’s always been unfairly good at eyeliner.

“What do you think?” Karen asks when she’s finished. Regina looks at herself in the mirror. Her freckles are visible beneath her makeup, and she only has on a bit of blush. Blue eyeliner and red lipstick, and Karen filled in her eyebrows.

That’s it.

It’s much less than Regina normally does, and she’s not sure how she feels about so much of her actual human skin being visible in public. But she looks and feels absolutely beautiful.

“I love it,” Regina says. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Karen beams. Her smile is so cute.

“Now how do I do my hair?” Regina sighs, puffing a stray blonde strand out of her face.

“Ponytail,” Karen says immediately. “Halfway up.”

“Really?” Regina asks, holding her hair up behind her head. Karen nods eagerly, so Regina grabs a hair tie from the vanity and pulls it back. A few strands fall out as she’s tying it up, but she decides to leave them. She fluffs up the ends of the ponytail a bit and looks at herself in the mirror.

“Definitely,” Karen nods. “You look great.”

“So do you,” Regina says, gently bumping their hips together. “Alright, time to party.”

“Yes!” Karen squeals. Regina chuckles as she runs back downstairs. She follows a bit more slowly; she has a lot of partying to do and doesn’t want to upset her back now.

“Wow,” she whispers when she sees the lower floor. Gretchen, her mom, and Kylie have made a remarkable amount of progress. Some things aren’t quite where they were supposed to be, most probably her mother’s doing, but it still looks great.

“Hey,” Gretchen greets eagerly. “Is everything in the right place? I had to guess for a few things.”

“Yeah, it looks great,” Regina nods, tugging self consciously at her ponytail.

“So do you!” Gretchen chirps. “I haven’t seen you in a ponytail in forever, you look amazing.”

“Thanks,” Regina mumbles sheepishly. “Karen’s idea.”

“It works,” Gretchen says. “Do you need anything else?”

“No, you guys just relax,” Regina says. “Should probably wait to get the fireworks set up, anyway.”

“Can’t wait,” Gretchen grins. Regina smiles back and takes her hand to lead her to the kitchen and wait for the other guests.

——

The party goes amazingly. Regina is usually stressed during her parties, frantically running around and making sure everything is going perfectly. But, for whatever reason, she doesn’t feel a need to this time.

The decorations look great, the food is expertly prepared by Karen’s dad, the playlist Gretchen put together is perfect for the mood, and people seem to be enjoying the various activities.

Regina lays a blanket on the roof just outside her bedroom window for them, lying in between her best friends to watch the fireworks set off in the backyard.

“Are these legal?” Karen asks as she watches the colors burst over their heads.

“Probably not,” Regina says. “Nobody ever gets busted, though.”

“They’re pretty,” Gretchen whispers. “Maybe the best you’ve gotten.”

“I think so too,” Regina nods. “I think the party as a whole was.”

“Definitely,” Karen says.

It’s quiet for a long moment, all of them just watching the show and feeling the warmth of the others next to them.

Eventually, the last one pops off, and they hear the cheers of the other guests below them. None of them move.

“Will you guys sleep over?” Regina whispers after a while.

“Of course,” Gretchen hums, turning onto her side and resting her head on Regina’s shoulder. Regina rests her head against Gretchen’s and smiles, looking up at the smoky sky.

Best party ever.

—————

Every year towards the end of the summer, the three of them have a sleepover to celebrate. Even the year Regina spent most of the summer in the hospital recovering from the bus, they had their annual sleepover.

Regina smiles fondly remembering that year as she packs her bag to head over to Karen’s house. She’d begged and pleaded with her nurses to let them stay past visiting hours for one night, and managed to get away with it. Gretchen and Karen had slept on cots borrowed from the maternity ward, and they’d stayed up late talking and apologizing and everything they could think to do.

It was an odd sleepover, but one of her favorites.

This one seems like it’ll pose some stiff competition, as Regina walks through Karen’s house to find everything set up in the backyard. The biggest tent Regina has ever seen is in the middle of it, practically taking up the whole yard. She ducks into it to see what Karen’s plan is this year.

“Hi!” her friends greet eagerly when they see her face pop into the tent.

“Hi,” Regina replies. “This is so cool!”

“Thanks,” Karen grins, leaning back in her beanbag chair. “Cady let me borrow an old tent her family has.”

“Wonder if this is the one she lived in,” Regina replies. It certainly seems homey enough. Karen set everything up beautifully. Three air mattresses with sheets and nice pillows, beanbag chairs, and a truly unholy amount of snacks. Gretchen made cookies again, chocolate chip this time. Regina’s favorite.

Karen also managed to bring the TV out, hooked up to an elaborate series of extension cords that are probably a fire waiting to happen. It’ll be fine for one night. A stack of their favorite DVD’s sits next to it, making Regina smile wider.

“What do you think?” Karen asks.

“This is amazing,” Regina grins. “You did a great job.”

“Thanks,” Karen beams. Regina nods and takes the last available beanbag, to Karen’s left. “What movie should we start with?”

“Legally Blonde!” Gretchen and Regina say at the same time, locking eyes and smiling over Karen’s head. Gretchen crawls forward to put the DVD in, and they settle into their spots to watch.

“You’d be a good Elle, Regina,” Gretchen mumbles during a quiet part of the movie.

“But I’m not blonde,” Regina replies, pointing to the roots of her hair she’s been allowing to grow in. “I’m dark blonde.”

“I’m sure you’re close enough,” Gretchen snorts. “You’d be a good lawyer.”

“I guess so,” Regina acknowledges. “I don’t like arguing very much anymore, though.”

“Yeah, I definitely think you’ll be a better therapist,” Karen says. “But you would be good. Pink pantsuits on Wednesdays.”

“Oh my god, no way,” Regina laughs. There’s a pensive pause. “Should we do that?”

“Maybe when we’re forty year old soccer moms,” Gretchen says.

“Deal.”

————

After Jennifer’s Body, The Devil Wears Prada, Bend It Like Beckham, and half a season of Gilmore Girls, they decide to take a break from watching anything and gorging themselves on all their snacks.

They could use some fresh air, so they all decide to poke their heads out of the door to the tent, leaving their bodies inside so they don’t get eaten alive by mosquitos.

“It’s a nice night,” Gretchen murmurs, looking up at the stars.

“Yeah,” Regina and Karen agree at the same time.

“It’s so clear,” Regina says. “For summer, anyway.”

“I’m glad it rained the other day,” Karen says. “Not so muggy.”

“Yeah, it feels nice,” Gretchen says, inhaling the night air. “Smells like second grade.”

“What?” Regina laughs.

“What?”

“How does second grade have a smell?”

“I dunno, it just does! It smells like a memory,” Gretchen chuckles. “From second grade.”

“Which one?” Karen asks.

“Huh?”

“Which memory?”

“Mmm… when you broke your arm at the playground jumping off the swingset. And me and Janis and Regina came over after you got home from the hospital to make you feel better,” Gretchen begins. “It was a night like this. Warm but not too warm, clear sky. And you couldn’t move too much, so we just watched movies and then caught the last fireflies of the season.”

“That was the best night,” Regina murmurs. “We all drew on your cast. And I had to be the first one to sign it, obviously. And your dad let all of us sleep over, so we stayed up extra late watching movies we weren’t allowed to watch and then tried to name all the fireflies.”

“Oh yeah,” Karen recalls fondly. “I forgot about that.”

“I think you hit your head, too,” Gretchen giggles.

“Maybe that’s why I’m so stupid,” Karen jokes.

“Hey!” Regina insists, sitting bolt upright and glaring at her. “Take it back.”

“What?” Karen asks.

“Take it back. You’re not stupid.”

“I am-” Karen begins, blinking in surprise when Regina puts her hand over her mouth.

“You’re not. You’re brilliant,” Regina demands. “What was your GPA?”

“3.0,” Karen says, muffled behind Regina’s hand. “But-”

“That’s amazing, K,” Regina insists. “You worked so hard just to get into college, and you’re still doing it? You graduated with a 3.0. That’s amazing. And you’re not just book smart, you’re wise, and you can read people like nobody’s business, and-”

“Gina, I can’t breathe,” Karen interrupts. Regina gasps and pulls her hand away.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Karen laughs, panting a bit to catch her breath. “Thanks.”

“It’s just the truth,” Regina mumbles, flushing bright red and looking away. Gretchen and Karen both smile at her, making her blush harder and curl into her knees.

“Oh, look!” Gretchen says eagerly. Karen and Regina both look where she’s pointing. They’re briefly confused, but then they see a twinkle.

“I’ll get a jar!” Karen says, running into the house. Regina and Gretchen both scramble up to run after the firefly.

“Dammit,” Regina grumbles when she swipes for it and misses.

“I got it!” Gretchen cheers. She comes back to Regina with her hands firmly held closed so the bug is contained. “What should we name it?”

“Mm… Fiona,” Regina hums.

“Fiona the firefly. I like it,” Gretchen grins. “She tickles.”

“What, you don’t like tiny little bug feet crawling all over your hand?” Regina giggles.

“No! Ew,” Gretchen whines. “Don’t say that.”

“Sorry,” Regina says. Karen comes running out with an empty peanut butter jar, with a few wet leaves inside and holes poked in the lid. Gretchen gently plops their new firefly friend inside and slams the lid back on so she can’t escape. “There’s another one!”

They’re a bit hard to find, being so late in the season, but the three of them spend the evening running around catching every little firefly they see.

When the jar is sufficiently full, they head back into their tent and get comfy on their air beds. Karen and Gretchen push theirs together so they can snuggle. Regina wants to join, but she figures that’s more than a little bit creepy and settles for keeping her own bed close by. The jar rests in between them, the bugs twinkling and illuminating their tent like a nightlight.

“Goodnight,” Gretchen yawns, cuddling into Karen’s back.

“Goodnight,” Karen replies, turning around for a second to kiss her. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Gretchen mumbles sleepily. “Love you, Gina.”

“I love you too,” Regina replies softly. “Both of you. Goodnight.”

—————

Regina remembers on August first that she signed up for a portrait photography class this semester. She also remembers she’s never tried portrait photography before. So, as always, she reaches out to Gretchen and Karen for help.

reginald: Why is this my name?

reginald: You know what, never mind. Do you guys want some couples photos?

fetchen: uhm… sure!!

sexymouse: 📸📷🤳

fetchen: she says okay too!

reginald: Okay, great. I signed up for a portrait photography class this semester but I’ve never done portrait photography. So everybody benefits.

fetchen: you’d make a great photographer!

reginald: Thanks, Gretch.

—-

“Hey, Gina,” Karen calls as she and Gretchen make their way over to her in the park.

“Hi,” Regina grins. “You guys look beautiful.”

Karen is in some denim shorts and a slightly dressy top, and Gretchen is in a sundress that compliments Karen’s outfit perfectly.

“Thanks,” Gretchen grins, doing her signature heel pop. Regina laughs, pulling her camera out of her bag and looping the strap around her neck. “What do you need us to do?”

“For now, just… act like you’re on a normal date. Pretend I’m not here,” Regina says.

“But you are here,” Karen says, almost pouting.

“Just do what you normally do, don’t look at the camera,” Regina giggles. “You don’t have to totally ignore me if you don’t want to.”

“Oh. Okay,” Karen says, seeming much happier with this arrangement.

Regina stays behind them while they walk hand in hand down one of the many walking paths around. She snaps the occasional candid shot of their hands intertwined or them looking at one another as they make conversation, lit by the not-quite setting sun overhead. Regina wanted a few shots with broad light, and some after golden hour begins.

Eventually they make it to a small creek. There’s a few other people; couples or families with kids taking them fishing or to hunt for crawdads with nets they probably got from the dollar store. Karen immediately kicks off her sandals and wades in. The deepest of the water doesn’t even come up to her knees.

“Come on,” she coaxes, as Gretchen stands on the shore looking rather more apprehensive. Regina crouches down a bit and snaps a few photos of Karen alone in the water, reaching out to Gretchen with a wide, but natural (and unfairly beautiful) smile on her face.

“You’ll get blisters walking with wet shoes,” Gretchen chides lovingly.

“So I won’t put them back on,” Karen retaliates. “Come on, it’s not that bad. It’s just cold.”

Gretchen sighs and kicks off her own shoes, wading over to her girlfriend. She squeals at the frigid temperature of the water and rushes over to Karen as fast as she can. Karen wraps her in a hug, lulling her into a false sense of security.

Gretchen squeals as Karen suddenly kicks at her, showering her in icy cold water. “Hey! That was mean.”

Karen shuffles over as Gretchen turns around and pouts, seeming genuinely upset. Regina herself is about to go see if she’s okay when Gretchen suddenly whirls around and dumps a handful of the water down Karen’s shirt.

She cackles when Karen gasps at the chill with a, “Hey!”

“You started it,” Gretchen giggles, squealing and ‘running’ away as fast as she can. Karen chases after her, but their top speed is quite slow and Gretchen has a head start. Regina takes several action shots of them chasing each other around and cackling like mad witches.

“Don’t you drag me into this,” Regina says as Gretchen hides behind her for protection.

“Your camera is expensive,” Gretchen retaliates, peeking around her shoulder to see where Karen is. “I’m safe here.”

“Fine,” Regina sighs. Gretchen hums happily as Regina leans back in her hold, resting her head on Regina’s shoulder as they wait for Karen to slosh her way over.

“My feet are cold,” Karen says when she finally makes it.

“I did tell you, honey,” Gretchen giggles. “Go get our stuff.”

“Aren’t you coming?”

“You go first,” Gretchen says. “Don’t trust you.”

Karen pouts. Gretchen rolls her eyes lovingly.

“I trust you in general. Just not around water,” she amends.

“Hmph,” Karen continues pouting. Regina tenses a bit as Gretchen leans around her to kiss Karen’s pout away, accidentally sandwiching Regina between them.

“Go on,” Gretchen murmurs. Karen smiles a bit and sloshes her way back to the shore. Gretchen pulls away from Regina and starts to follow, but pauses when she doesn’t hear Regina’s footsteps coming after her. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Regina whispers immediately. She can feel the words resting on the tip of her tongue, threatening to tip out, to spill. She bites her tongue so hard tears start to well in her eyes. Bites the words back so hard she tastes the tang of blood.

“Are you sure? We can take a break,” Gretchen offers, taking small steps back in her direction.

“No! I’m fine, Gretchen,” Regina bites, falling back into the comforting embrace of anger she found herself in for so many years. Gretchen’s face twinges, falls, and Regina finds herself face to face with something she’s spent years desperately trying to avoid. “Shit. I’m sorry, Gretch, I didn’t… I know you’re just… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Gretchen says gently.

“No, it’s not! It never has been, I just…” Regina begins. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

“I know,” Gretchen says. “I know you are. And I can see you working on it. I know this isn’t you.”

“I think it is,” Regina mumbles. Gretchen shakes her head, her dark hair swishing around her shoulders with the motion.

“I know it’s not. If it was we never would have seen you be kind again. That’s you,” she insists. “I don’t know what happened, but you only do this when you’re hurting.”

You’re protecting yourself, Regina hears her therapist’s voice echo in her head. Just in an unhealthy way.

But how do I stop? Regina’s voice begs back. I can’t do this anymore.

Work on healing, and find the right people.

The right people are right in front of her.

“You should go get Karen, she’s waiting for you,” Regina sighs shakily. “I’ll… I’ll be there in a second. I just need a minute.”

“Okay,” Gretchen says gently. She rests a caring hand against her arm before pulling away, turning around and making her way out of the creek.

Regina sighs and blinks back tears. She thinks about splashing some of the water on her face, but it’s green, and she decides it’s not worth risking some kind of brain-eating amoeba.

She gives herself three minutes, carefully counting each and every second that passes. Any longer and her friends will start to worry more than they already are. Counting gives her something else to focus on, helps her ground herself the slightest bit and pull her thoughts away from the swirling cesspool they’re threatening to dive into.

“There she is,” Karen says with a bright smile as she sees Regina claw her way through the tree line that outlines the creek.

“Hey,” Regina says softly.

“Hey,” Gretchen echoes. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Regina says immediately.

“Do you need any more pictures?” Karen asks.

“I have a few more I want to get, if you guys have time?”

“Of course,” Gretchen says. “We have all night.”

“Well, I don’t have the lenses for night photography with me, so it won’t be that long,” Regina teases. “But, um… I brought props. To try.”

“Ooh,” Karen says immediately. Her eyes brighten as Regina rests her bag on the ground and pulls out two flags. The pan one gets handed to Karen, and the bi one to Gretchen. “Ooh!”

“Wait, don’t be cute yet!” Regina says as Karen holds her flag over her head and twirls around. She scrambles for her camera and to get a good angle, adjusting her settings for the motion and snapping as many good pictures as she can.

Karen eventually slows down, her hair wild around her from her twirling as she pants to catch her breath back. “I’m dizzy.”

“Your hair looks fantastic, though,” Gretchen giggles. “Like you just got a blowout.”

“Thanks,” Karen replies, jokingly tossing her hair over her shoulder. Regina still almost chokes, and Gretchen is practically drooling.

Regina leaves them to do whatever feels natural with their flags, taking some beautiful shots of Gretchen with hers held triumphantly over her head, practically glowing in the light of the setting sun.

She feels her heart seize a bit when they both wrap their flags around their shoulders like superhero capes and lean in for a kiss. Regina continues taking pictures, but she feels her eyes start watering and knows her knuckles are probably white with her grip on her camera. God damn it, not now.

“Gina?” Karen asks knowingly when they break apart. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Regina whispers.

“Yes thing,” Karen retaliates childishly.

“You can tell us,” Gretchen says kindly. Regina blinks back tears at the lack of malice in her voice, the gentleness of her grip as she takes and squeezes her hand.

This is it.

“I…” Regina tries to begin. She pauses and takes a deep breath. “No, I can’t.”

“What is it?” Karen asks. She looks to Gretchen in concern when Regina bursts into tears in front of them. Regina hunches in on herself, crossing her arms over her chest protectively. Protect your heart. At any cost.

“Regina,” Gretchen says, reaching for her again. She gets a wounded look when Regina steps away, but respectfully pulls her hand back. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Regina sobs. “I-I-I-”

“Deep breath,” Karen says in the same tone of voice she uses when Gretchen has a panic attack. “Take your time. I promise you can tell us, it’ll be okay.”

Deep breath. Take your- “I love you! I-I’m in love with you. Both of you. And I-I know… I know you d-don’t feel the same, I just… I had to tell you, I can’t… I can’t live like this anymore. I’m-I’m so sorry.”

Gretchen and Karen look at each other with wide eyes. This was most definitely not something they were expecting to hear. Neither of them get a spectacular amount of time to process as Regina suddenly starts hyperventilating and nearly collapses to the ground in front of them.

“Whoa, Regina,” Karen says, immediately going to help her. Gretchen quickly follows, sinking to her knees in front of her. Regina starts panicking harder and trying to get away, but this time they don’t let her.

“Gina, hey. Look at me,” Gretchen says gently. “We’re not mad at you, okay? We’re not upset. I promise. We can talk about this when you’re ready, but for now we just want to help you, okay?”

Regina looks at her and sees nothing but warmth and concern in her eyes. She can barely move her hands, they’re shaking so hard, but she forces herself to hold Gretchen’s outstretched one and nods. Karen sits on the ground behind her and hugs her; squeezes her to apply pressure to ground her. She supports Regina’s spine so it isn’t aggravated and seems content to just be Regina’s anchor. Tether her to Earth. Regina can feel her breathing against her back and tries desperately to match it before she sinks too far into this panic.

“Good, breathe with Karen,” Gretchen says gently. Regina can feel Karen nod against her shoulder. She does her best to and continues looking at Gretchen’s eyes. Why is she being so nice? Why are both of them being so nice?

Gretchen also seems to be panicking slightly as she tries to work out what she can do to help her.

“Okay, uhm… just try to stay here with me, okay? Nothing else matters right now. Just… do your best not to think. Uh…” she stutters. Karen’s usual go to for her is the countdown strategy, but Regina seems too upset to even do that. So, Gretchen starts talking. She’s not totally sure what to talk about, but she just goes for it. “Do you remember the day we met?”

Regina looks at her and nods shakily. Gretchen gives her a sad smile and continues talking.

“In preschool. I was crying because my mom left and you came over,” she recalls fondly. “You didn’t say anything for a long time, you just sat next to me while I cried and held my hand. And then when I calmed down you said we had the same shoes on and that meant we had to be best friends. And you took me to your table with Karen and Janis and showed me the play-doh. And then KK kept eating it and got it taken away.”

Regina lets out a strange, harsh sound, a mix between a laugh and another sob.

“I never told you, but I’ve remembered that day forever,” Gretchen continues softly. “In middle and high school, when you were… you know. I would think about that day. And it helped, a lot. Because I knew that little girl who held my hand while I cried, my best friend, was still in there somewhere. And here you are. I’m so glad we’ve managed to stay friends all these years.”

“I am too,” Karen adds quietly from behind her. “You were always a good friend. Even when you weren’t.”

Regina is stunned almost quiet. She’s so busy trying to process what Karen means that she forgets what she was originally panicking about in the first place. Gretchen squeezes her hands once more to get her attention and gives her a gentle smile.

“Can you count backwards from ten with me? Just focus on us again. And take a deep breath with every one,” she says kindly. Regina nods shakily.

“T-ten.” Regina says. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

“Nine.” Focus on Gretchen.

“Eight.” Her eyes.

“Se-sev-seven.” Her hands.

“Six.” Her heart.

“F-five.” Deep breath.

“Four.” Focus on Karen.

“Three.” Her hold.

“T-two.” Her warmth.

“One.” Her.

“Good,” Gretchen says.

“Are you feeling any better?” Karen pipes up, massaging Regina’s arms gently and helping her stand again. Regina nods with a shaky sniffle.

“I’ve really done it now, haven’t I?”

“You haven’t done anything,” Gretchen says. Karen nods, now that Regina can see her again. “I-I… I’m not going to lie and say I’ve never felt the same way.”

“I definitely have too,” Karen adds. “I’m sorry we can’t give you a solid answer now. But we… need to talk this over. Make sure we’re using the same emojis, you know?”

Regina gives a watery chuckle and nods. “I know. I’m sorry to dump this on the both of you now.”

“No, Gina,” Gretchen says. “We’re glad you told us. We just need some time before we can do this the right way for all of us.”

“I understand. You-you guys take all the time you need,” Regina says as she packs all her things back up. “I’ll be here. Uh… thanks. For helping me, and everything.”

“Anytime,” Karen says. “Bye.”

“Bye, Gina.”

“Bye, guys.”

Regina can feel it burning the whole drive home. For the first time in almost fifteen years, she sinks into her mother’s arms for comfort, and cries.

————-

Regina doesn’t hear anything until two days before Gretchen has to fly back to France. She’s spent most of the week hiding in bed, cuddling her pillows and watching Netflix in a ditch attempt to not think about the situation. And crying, she spent a solid amount of time crying.

But she wakes up to a text.

sexymouse: 🥞🧇🍳 ???

reginald: Sure. Usual place?

sexymouse: 👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻

fetchen: we’ll meet you there at ten :)))

reginald: Okay. See you then. :)

Regina sighs as she removes herself from her blanket cave for the first time in four days and pads to the bathroom to take a shower. What could this be about?

She nearly works herself into another panic attack as she brushes and blow dries her hair. What if they’re about to let her know they don’t feel the same? And that they don’t want to see her ever again?

No, they wouldn’t do that, she thinks to herself as she brushes her teeth. Would they? The texts didn’t sound any different than normal. Well, it’s hard to tell sometimes with Karen, but Gretchen sent a smiley face. With three mouths, that must mean something at least okay, if not good?

“God, girl stuff sucks.”

“Hey, Gina,” Gretchen greets as Regina slides into their usual booth across from her friends.

“Hi.”

“We ordered for you,” Karen says, pushing a plate of strawberry banana crepes closer to her. Regina smiles slightly when she sees they remembered her favorite. They haven’t even eaten here together since seventh grade.

“Thank you,” she says genuinely, pouring some syrup out on the side like she always does. “How-uhm. How are you two?”

“We’re good,” Gretchen replies. “How are you? Feeling any better?”

Regina nods. “I… yeah. I mean, you get why I’m not… totally back to myself, yet. But I’m much better than the other day.”

“Good,” Karen nods. Gretchen smiles fondly as she follows it with an entirely too-large bite of waffle. Regina grins as well, giving a slight chuckle when Gretchen helpfully dabs some stray syrup off of Karen’s chin. They deserve each other.

They continue making light conversation throughout their meal, but there’s a thrumming undertone of anxiety and anticipation that has Regina practically shaking in her Louboutin’s. Regina pays for the food, batting both other cards away and throwing her own at their waiter and shoving him back to process it.

“Thanks, Gina,” Karen says. Regina just nods.

“Of course.”

—-

“So, Gina, uhm…” Gretchen stutters about a quarter of the way through their walk in the park to get rid of the sticky full feeling in their bellies. “We have a… proposition for you.”

That doesn’t sound good, Regina thinks. She says, “Um… okay. Shoot.”

“Will you date us?” Karen asks. Regina freezes mid-step and chokes on air.

“Wh-what?”

“We know this isn’t a great time,” Gretchen says almost apologetically. “Since I’m leaving again. But we talked it over, and we’re willing to try if you are.”

“You’re serious?” Regina checks, looking at both of their faces for even the slightest hint of insincerity. Nothing. All she sees is two of the most loving faces she’s ever been confronted with. “Yes! Oh my god, what?!”

They both laugh as she rockets in between them for a hug, and press in on either side to kiss her cheeks. They pause when they hear a sniffle and can taste the few tears streaming down her face. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m sorry,” Regina sobs. “I just… I thought you both would hate-hate me, when I told you. I never thought this-this would… actually happen, you know? I’m-I’m so happy.”

“Aww, honey,” Gretchen coos. “If we didn’t hate you when you were a raging bitch, we definitely won’t hate you for loving us.”

Regina gives a watery laugh at that. Gretchen isn’t usually so frank or vulgar, so it’s almost a shock, but she’s most definitely not wrong. “I do. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Gretchen hums. “Can I kiss you?”

Regina nods eagerly and leans in. Gretchen meets her halfway and kisses her so gently. Her lips are slightly chapped from her habit of biting them, but so, so soft. She can faintly taste the delightful flavors of cinnamon and maple off her lips, and smell the enchanting aroma of baked goods that always manages to follow Gretchen. It feels like home.

They smile at each other when they break apart. Regina repeats, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Gretchen beams, pecking her gently one more time.

“I love you… three,” Karen pipes up. “My turn?”

Regina laughs and leans in. Karen is more confident, eager in kissing. Gretchen was more anxious, more careful. Karen knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to take it, swiping her tongue at Regina’s lips and allowing her to taste the powdered sugar and maple syrup faintly left from their breakfast. Regina’s close enough to faintly smell the fruitiness of her perfume. She wants more.

“I love you, Karen,” Regina murmurs when they break apart. Karen smiles back and kisses her cheek. “Was… was that a date?”

“It was supposed to be, yeah,” Gretchen giggles.

“Oh.”

————-

“I don’t want you to go,” Regina whimpers into Gretchen’s shoulder at the airport. “I just got you.”

“I know,” Gretchen attempts to soothe through her own tears. “I’ll be back in December. You and Karen have four and a half months to think of a perfect Chanukah present for me.”

Regina gives a watery laugh into her shoulder and squeezes her tighter. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Gretchen says. “Karebear, come here. Group hug.”

Karen comes over and worms her way in between them. She gets her own few kisses from Gretchen and stays in the cuddle.

They stay huddled together as long as they can, all crying quietly and peppering kisses on whoever they can reach. A falsely kind woman’s voice rings out over the speakers to announce Gretchen’s flight boarding.

Gretchen cups Karen’s face and gives her a solid kiss. But this time, she turns to Regina after they break apart and does the same to her. “I love you. And I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I love you three,” Regina chuckles around a sob. Gretchen kisses their cheeks one more time before she turns around and heads off to her gate. Regina and Karen stay and wave until she’s out of sight before leaving the airport hand in hand.

“It never gets easier,” Karen sobs quietly. Regina squeezes her hand and nods. “But now I have you.”

Regina looks at her and gives her a watery smile. “And I have you. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They can feel Gretchen’s ‘I love you three’ from thousands of miles away.

—————

thanks for reading! hope you enjoyed!

#polystics #poly-stics #poly plastics #regina george x gretchen wieners x karen smith #regina george #gretchen wieners #karen smith #cady heron #janis sarkisian #mean girls #mean girls broadway #mean girls musical #mean girls on broadway #mean girls the musical

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wh6res · 4 years ago

Text

UP IN SMOKES — DOYOUNG

psych student! kdy | tw. college au, violence, a knife, GASLIGHTING, hallucination, psychosis, swearing, just pure manipulation, minor charac death, there's a court scene, this is a repost! | wc. 10k she a beast

life could’ve been simple;

you shouldn't have met kim doyoung.

what does a freshman in college hate the most other than the high-stress levels of moving into a new dorm? a shitty roomie and a smelly, moldy mattress. the girl you call roommate refuses to help move the mattress because it will ruin her new manicure. what a fucking classic.

"sounds like a 'you' problem. figure it out yourself, plain jane."

she said before heading out, annoyingly popping her bubblegum as she kicks a few of your scattered boxes by the front door. you roll your eyes; classes haven't even started yet, so why is she already making your life miserable? as much as you'd like to snap at her, you don't, merely glaring daggers at her back as she finally turns the corner of the hallway and disappears.

"bitch," you mutter under your breath.

you eye the abomination that is supposed to be your bed, cursing how you shouldn't have made a 15-minute pit stop to starbucks for a drink when you could've just bought one from the instant coffee vending machines in every corner of the hallway of this dorm building because if you didn't, maybe you could've beaten regina george wannabe from taking the better bed. sighing, you suck it up and start getting to work. life's full of shit, anyway; no point sulking.

moving a moldy mattress is easier than you thought, to say the least. you can't ask for help from the other freshmen you bumped into in the hallway because they, too, are under a huge amount of stress from the move and are busy getting their affairs in order. it was a good thing, though, that a committee was formed specifically for this day to help out the freshmen if they were to stumble upon problems or mishaps with moving in. they were all around the campus, and they prove to be way friendlier than your batch mates. since this morning, three people have already offered help in carrying your luggage — which you have politely declined.

"hey, uhm… is this the stall for the welcoming committee? oh, wait. i'm sorry, there's a sign right there —"ugh.

you mentally shut your eyes in humiliation. why do you have to be this bad, this awkward at communicating with strangers? why couldn't you be born like all those socialites who already (probably) got their contacts filled with new numbers on the first day of school or something?

"yeah, this is them — welcoming committee, i mean. how can i help you?" he smiles, sweet, radiating the epitome boy next door aura as he looks up at you from where he's sitting behind the stall. your eyes quickly land onto the name tag stuck on his varsity jacket before meeting his eyes again.

"i have an issue with my mattress. it has mold, you see..." your voice slowly trails, becoming quieter as you feel small under the weight of his piercing stare. oh, come on. he's just a guy with a beautiful face, woman the fuck up.

"really? let me see..."

he needn't finish rounding the stall when his nose is hit by the pungent smell brought forth by your mattress. frankly, you weren't that picky. you could've covered it with bedsheets and call it a day, but the odor is too strong to ignore. you mentally hope the smell didn't latch onto your clothes, especially not when someone so cute is around — what a bad first impression.

"oh, god!" he exclaims the moment he lays eyes on it, taking a step back. “now, that has to go. and you lugged it from the fourth floor?"

ah, yes. according to tradition in these dormitories, which you've only found out today, freshmen get the curse of climbing four flights of stairs up while the seniors strut into their rooms on the ground floor like the hallway is a goddamned runway.

"doyoung! help me carry these!"

someone calls his name as you both turn your head to spot a chestnut-haired girl clad in the same varsity jacket he's wearing. you grimace at the sight of her. for someone so small, she just had to volunteer to carry all those heavy bags. however, he doesn't move in front of you and brushes her off as if she doesn't look like she's carrying rocks over her shoulders. "i'm already helping someone else! go find taeyong or something. i'm sure that shit's loitering around here somewhere!"

"oh, it's okay, you can go help her. i'll just look for someone else —"

"nah, it's fine!" you try hard to school your face into indifference when you notice his gummy smile. "plus… trust me when i say no other person from the committee will help you with this. this shit smells like my roommate's sweaty basketball socks!"

you can't help the smile forming on your face as you help him carry the mattress off to the side of the hallway, the stinky thing leaning vertically against the wall and behind a huge terracotta plant pot. "don't worry, let's report it to student affairs so they'll get you a new one. congrats! you'll have to share beds with your new roommate tonight, freshie. it'd be a great ice breaker."

the universe truly hates you.

your expression must've been a dead give away because he's suddenly patting your shoulder, regarding you with utmost sympathy. "been there, done that. i hated taeyong, too, when i met him last year. still, for some mind fuck of a miracle, we've grown to be friends and developed a talent of not wanting to kill each other every two seconds."

"highly doubt i'd be friends with a regina george-level bitch, but thanks, anyway," you mutter under your breath. suddenly, you whip your head towards him after internalizing what he just said. "you met your roommate last year? you're a sophomore?"

he scoffs, leaning down to your height to lowly mutter against your ear as he eyes the lobby's front desk. "why? do i look like some 4th year who radiates 'don't touch me' energy?"

you feel the heat on your cheeks with how close he is, only releasing an exhale when he finally gets out of your personal space. "i'm kim doyoung. you've heard it from wendy earlier, but anyway — i'm a 2nd-year psych major."

"no way!" you exclaim, a little too excited. "i'm taking psych, too!"

"oh, you are? well, if you need anything or if you don't understand stuff…" he winks. "feel free to approach me anytime."

hmm… how sweet of him.

it was only hours later that you found out who kim doyoung is in your department during the acquaintance party. and for god's sake, you found out from your best friend who is a major in english lit and has never even seen the guy. "seriously, you didn't know he's a genius? i hear the professors call him a prodigy, girl! a fucking prodigy. if i were you, i'd ask for his help in every subject."

"you know i prefer keeping to myself. how'd i know stuff like that when i have no one to talk to in the psych dorms?" you look down, making the ice cubes in your drink clink against each other. "i didn't think he was this big shot or whatever. he looks normal, and everyone treats him normally."

"well, what do you expect?" she hisses, hitting your arm. "the other students don't want to make him feel alienated or something just because he's tons smarter than them. but anyway… the real question is…"

you roll your eyes when she pauses for effect, tentatively leaning closer to whisper under her breath.

"is he cute?"

you didn't want to answer her question, but he's been stuck in your head since he offered walking with you to the student affairs office. doyoung had smiled his cute gummy smile and had even ruffled your hair before leaving you for committee duties — saying he's cute would be an understatement.

"you have no idea."

for his first act;

he gains your trust.

fast forward to one year, many things have changed, but the only constant remaining is the handsome sophomore — who is now a 3rd-year, by the way — whom you've met on your first day. coursework has been pretty tough this year. instead of the content written in your textbook, your mind is plagued by the horrible twist of fate your best friend had encountered; she didn't have enemies. or so you thought.

she disappeared in the middle of christmas break last year. her beaten up body was found only a month later, in january, floating around the university's lake. happy fucking new year.

the first time she chose to spend the holidays with you instead of her family back in her hometown, and that happens? some rotten luck you both have. it's why you didn't put it past her family to hate your guts with strong convictions. it's okay. the feeling's mutual. after all, it had been your best friends' own family, the same ones who had been so willing to take you in when you got kicked out, that were so eager to pin you as the murderer of their child. all under the argument that you have been the last person seen with her.

oh, the things her mom said about you when she had stormed into the police station, red in the face, tears streaming down her cheeks..."i warned my baby not to hang out with that — that bitch. came straight out of a cursed family, that one. abusive dad, a nutjob mom. that bitch is a danger! probably got her dad's nasty temper and beat my baby to death! i want her on the electric chair!"

in those times, you once again realize this world is fucked up and cruel in every bit of its glory as you fought tooth and nail to defend yourself. but even then, they never believed you — the law will only favor the rich . the prosecution had been so sure it was you until a certain witness appeared and presented himself before the jury.

"do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

doyoung raises his right hand, fixing his stare straight at the judge. "i solemnly and sincerely declare that the evidence i shall give will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"how long have you known the defendant?" the prosecutor asks, arms crossed in front of her chest as she paces in front of the witness stand.

the boy briefly meets your gaze, and it's enough to make his heart sink. doyoung can't bear seeing you in those grey overalls when he knows it himself. you're being accused of a crime you didn't commit. "i've known her for one year."

"how'd you meet?"

and the questions went on and on; your defense attorney isn't all too keen on winning the case and had never once yelled "objection!" in her seat, but what could you expect? all the evidence kept stacking against you, and some of those you knew were even fabricated. you've never felt this hopeless in your whole twenty years of living.

"what's the point in this, anyway?" doyoung snapped in the witness stand, fiercely glaring at the prosecutor. "how is my history — or lack thereof — with the defendant any relevant to the case? you're not even asking me about evidence nor what my statement is!"

"easy there," the prosecutor retaliates, jaw locked. "i have to first measure what exactly your relationship is with the defendant for us to think twice about your statement. who knows..." the prosecutor makes a grand gesture of turning her head in your direction, affixing you with a condescending stare. "she might've just hired you to say these things."

your attorney doesn't come to your aid.

"perjury isn't my thing."

the prosecutor seems to have taken offense by the tone of doyoung's voice, but he doesn't let her speak further. "the victim isn't all sunshine and rainbows, you know. she'd been a part of a sorority and one with quite a nasty reputation in the college, too. i have to say she made very poor decisions, ones i'm sure her family didn't even know about. you see, they take their oaths and pledges very seriously. the victim wanted out. they didn't like that."

"and you have evidence to support this claim?"

without a moment to waste, he digs around the front pocket of his jeans before proudly presenting a black usb between his slender fingers. "knock yourself out."

the professor calls your name, snapping you out of your reverie. this isn't the first time your mind had transported you back to that particular day in the courtroom, where doyoung had swooped in and saved you from a lifetime in prison. the whole ordeal had been so scary, so frightening that you remember everything vividly as if it had only happened yesterday.

the classroom is empty. even your social psych professor has long packed up his stuff and is already standing by the classroom door. damn. were you that out of it?

"i'm so sorry." you mutter under your breath monotonously as you walk past him and out the door without another word. this is bad, very bad. no one would help, much less lend their notes to someone charged with murder — especially of their very own best friend. whether you were innocent or not doesn't matter to the student body. you've been ostracized, gossips of your problematic family spreading like wildfire, and the ridiculous part is only a fourth of the gossips are true.

the damage is done.

at this point, you realize with a heavy heart that you have to face doyoung again sooner or later. you haven't talked to him at all since the start of the new school year, ignoring his lighthearted greetings in the hallways, rejecting his calls, ghosting his texts. you are afraid people would judge him harshly for hanging around you. frankly, you were embarrassed to ask any more favors from him with how much he's done for you already and the fact that he had seen you in such a state of vulnerability.

but you also didn't want to fail your subjects and lose the one thing holding your life together — your scholarship.

that is why you found yourself standing before him, in his favorite spot in the library tucked behind shelves upon shelves of books, next to the windows overlooking the empty football field. he's wearing black-rimmed glasses and is clad in the usual navy blue sweater as his head turns to and fro between a textbook and his notebook. the air had been so silent, you hear the aggressive scratches his pencil makes against the paper.

you feel a little hurt when he makes no move to acknowledge your presence, but you think back to what you have been doing and figured he has a right to act this way.

"hey, doyoung." your voice is meek, hesitant.

"if you're not here to explain nor give me an acceptable reason why you've been ignoring me for the last few months, then please get out of my sight. i'm busy, as you can tell." he is brutally honest, knocking down the remaining hope you have left of ever reconciling with him.

something within you snaps, the steady streams of tears running down your cheeks as you pinned your stare on doyoung's open pencil case lying on the table. you have nobody left. your family — father, specifically speaking — has disowned you for taking a course your heart wanted, and the one friend you have lies motionless in a white coffin buried six feet under the ground. you didn't want to lose doyoung, too, no matter what role he plays in your life.

"i'm sorry," your voice cracks. "life's been… fucking shitty, and i'm sure you of all people know what i've been through. i've thanked you before for — for what you did, and i'm thanking you again right now but — i'm sorry, i'm really —"

your voice cracks when you feel him pulling you into an embrace. you feel the tension in your body breaking loose as you crumble in his arms. all those months grieving and wallowing in self-pity took such a heavy toll that you can't help but tightly clutch the sides of his hoodie, scared he'll slip through your fingers.

one of his hands comes up to push your face against the crook of his neck, muffling your cries in the silent library. doyoung felt like a jerk for snapping at you the way he did. how inconsiderate can he be? however, he felt elated because you sought him out yourself and wanted his help of all people.

his eyebrow raises in amusement.

well, not that you have a choice, anyway.

it took you a few good minutes to calm down, cringing when you see the wet patch on doyoung's sweater because of your tears.

"why don't you tell me everything, hmm? i'll help you as much as i can."

you sheepishly look down, fiddling with your fingers as you sit across him, the open textbook and notebook before him long forgotten. "well, i've been so out of it lately? my mind's just a whole bloody mess and i can't focus on any of my subjects at all and if i can't, then i'll lose the scholarship and it's the only thing i have in my life right now —"

"hey," doyoung cuts you off, placing a warm hand against your forearm to calm you down. "you won't lose that scholarship. trust me, okay? why don't we arrange tutoring sessions and i'll even lend you some of my notes from last year. what do you think?"

"okay... thank you, doyoung."

"for the record, you have me in your life, too. i'll always be here for you."

in the first session, you woke up from your deep slumber with only 15 minutes to spare from the scheduled time, but thankfully, your tutor only lives one floor down with the rest of the 3rd-years. bringing nothing with you but a pen and a pad of paper, your textbooks were destroyed as some students from your batch thought it'd be fun to throw them into the lake to "honor" your friend.

you offer a small smile when taeyong opens the door, sporting an oversized shirt and track pants, eyes wide in shock when he sees you. "hi? can i help you?"

"hello! i'm here for doyoung. he's tutoring —"

"he doesn't live here anymore. his mom bought him a place outside the campus."

what?

"i'm sorry for disturbing you, then. do you by any chance know where he lives?"

that's weird. doyoung never mentioned he's already moved out. you feel a wee bit irritated that he forgot to tell you; it would've saved you the embarrassment of interacting with the varsity player. you weren't stupid, you can see the hints of repulsion in taeyong's eyes the moment he opened that door and saw you standing before him, no doubt thinking about: oh, look, it's the crazy murderer with a fucked up family standing in front of me.

he had shut the door in your face. you stood awkwardly for a good minute in the hallway until the door reopens, taeyong handing you a small piece of paper with doyoung's new address scribbled hurriedly in black ink. he doesn't give you a chance to thank him for he's already closed the door again without another word.

you opted walking to his place instead of catching a ride because the money you have on you is enough to buy yourself dinner. to say the least, the apartment building is mediocre, not too grand, nor is it too rundown. double-checking the floor level written on the paper before pushing the elevator's button, you then realize doyoung lives on the very top floor of the building.

the hallways are painted a boring brown. some acrylic number signs plastered on the doors are broken, hanging vertically with one screw left. it says on the paper he resides in room 720. taking the right hallway, you mentally count as you eye the mahogany doors. 718… 719… there it is!

when you raise a fist to start knocking on his door, there is a tinge of hesitation surging through you. perhaps being alone with a boy in his apartment is not the best setting for a girl like you should end up in, but this is doyoung we're talking about. if he had ill intentions for you, it would've manifested a long time ago. you shake your head, feeling bad for thinking of him that way as you slowly knock on his front door. not long after, it swings open, revealing the 3rd-year in a white shirt and boxers as he lazily dries his hair off with a small towel.

"you're late," is the first thing he says to you before spinning on his heel to disappear further into his humble abode.

"you didn't exactly inform me you've moved out of the dorms. so, whose fault is it?" you retaliate, inviting yourself in and closing the front door shut.

"whatever. let's get started!" he plops himself on the floor, coffee table filled with loose papers as he struggles to find a specific one amongst the mess. "i've already scanned, exported to pdf, and emailed you my notes. it should be in your inbox by now. anyway, answer this quiz i made so i know what i'll be working on."

"you didn't really have to send your notes, doyoung. i could've just read everything from the textbook," you sit down across from him because otherwise, you'll be too distracted to remember information.

a thought crosses his mind. with what textbook?

"i just think it's missing some essence. that's why i love reading over other psych books in the library for fun. be grateful, those notes are like my babies and i don't simply give them to anyone," he looks at you pointedly. "they've all been summarized and explained in layman's terms so you wouldn't have to spend grueling hours of reading and trying to make sense of the big words as i did — i know that's not the definition of 'fun' normally, but it is for me, and that's why i do it."

"okay, doyoung. you sound so defensive when there's nothing to be defensive about," you tease, feeling pleased with the hint of red on his cheeks as he averts his gaze from yours, muttering incoherent words under his breath.

you spent the following tuesdays, thursdays, and sundays like that; hours upon hours with no one but your tutor, laptops with tangled chargers, a printed copy of his babies, and a mountain pile of loose papers filled with the specialized quizzes doyoung makes to measure your progress. the location varies from a cafe or his flat. but in what you've gathered from the time you spent with him, doyoung's a homebody. cafe tutor sessions are rare, and he always complained about how "noisy" the atmosphere was — "i can't stand it."

but the conversation hadn't always been about academics.

sure, for the first few sessions, doyoung kept an image of professionalism and had heavily insisted on it — "it's for your learning experience!" — despite your lighthearted teasing. but as time passed and he eventually grew more comfortable in your presence, you find the strict 15-minute break he had initially imposed between 45 minutes of studying turned into hours of talking about whatever; how he likes his eggs in the morning, your favorite coffee brew, his favorite show, your strongest pet peeve.

and you wholly welcomed the change, not minding that it's practically dark out whenever you go back to your miserable dorm. you feel butterflies in your stomach whenever doyoung offers to walk you home but never had you taken his offer, still cautious of other people seeing you both together despite his constant reassurances. you've already thoroughly ruined your image. you didn't want to ruin his, too.

kdy the cute tutor, 2:14 pm —last day of midterms! & its all majors today —good luck —remember what i taught u —lets get ice cream after u cant say no

you shake your head bemusedly. his texting style is the most doyoung thing he does and it's as if you can hear him say these things to you in real life. too caught up in your own world, you fail to detect another student sitting next to you and had nearly fallen off your chair in shock when they spoke.

"why are your notes like that?"

you fight the urge to glare at the person, especially when you turn your head and see lee jeno looking at you in genuine curiosity. he's the only batchmate that treats you a wee bit nicer among the rest. although he isn't technically your friend, at least he doesn't look at you like you're a piece of bubblegum stuck under his shoe like all the others.

"what do you mean?"

"they're… the definitions are all jumbled up. where did you even get that?"

what? jumbled up? doyoung himself said these notes are a combination of most of the psychology books he had read last year concerning his subjects. how would it be jumbled up? then again, lee jeno was not tutored by the prodigy himself. maybe things are bound to seem "jumbled up" when information is too great to understand for a feeble mind.

just as you were about to claim these notes aren't yours, the professor has already waltzed into the classroom with a thick wad of papers — the exams. after one last concerned glance directed your way, jeno averts his gaze with a confused tilt of the head.

hours later, you walk out of the classroom with the biggest smile on your face. aced it, you thought. your hands feel numb with how much you wrote on the essay portion but it's worth it if it meant you get the full 25 points, which you no doubt will as it was a topic you surely tackled with doyoung. speaking of... he sure is a man of his word.

"what are you doing here?" you hiss, head ducked with hair framing your face as to not draw attention from the rest of the students filing out of the testing hall.

"i texted you that we're getting ice cream. remember?"

"i did. but i didn't remember agreeing."

he shoots you a comforting smile, planting his hands firmly on your shoulder. “i told you, y/n. i don't care if they all see us together, so what? we all know you didn't commit that crime and it wasn't your fault you were born into the family you had. i don't care about the trivial things, baby, so don't shy away from me, okay?"

how the fuck can you say 'no' when he's looking at you the way he is as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear? doyoung's just so bewitching that he has you wrapped around his slender fingers. he seems pleased when you stumbled over your words as you come up with a reply, caught off guard by his bold gestures.

"i just — you, uhh — fine..." you gave in, rolling your eyes out of pretense.

he just had to call you 'baby' and erupt the butterflies in your stomach.

it had been doing that for the last few months now and it had only truly manifested today when he took you out for ice cream to celebrate the end of hell week. and since you didn't want to go back to your dorm yet, you asked if you guys can watch some movies in his house but it had simply become background noise to your heart-to-heart talks. and what better accompaniment than the classic, chicken and beer?

you listen to him drone on and on about the little realizations he had on some of his past lectures even when you barely understood anything he's saying. doyoung's so lucky to be extremely good at something he's so passionate about, talks about the human mind and the complexity of a person's behavior will never fail to make his eyes light up in interest.

he calls out your name.

your eyes snap open.

"why don't we get you home? it's past 10 and it's alright, stupid, you don't need to pretend to be interested in my psychological findings." he chuckled light-heartedly, stealing the can of the now room-temperature beer from your hands before you can protest.

"i wasn't dozing off, i swear."

"i caught you in the act. stop lying."

like all the other times he has you as his guest, doyoung once again offers to walk you home and you decline for the thousandth time. it really isn't that much of a long walk anyway. you don't see the need for him to go out of his way to secure your safety. plus, you were the one who insisted on hanging out in his house anyway. you weren't that thick-skinned to let him take you home, too.

"you're drunk!" he scolds.

“no, i’m not. i can perfectly handle myself."

"but —"

"bye!"

you feel a little guilty for shutting the door in his face. still, a minute longer of his persistence and you would've taken his offer. unfortunately for doyoung, you are one stubborn girl. only if you don't make brisk movements with your head, then you won't see doubles. you'll be fine, it's just a quick walk and it's not as if you're stupid enough to pass by deserted alleys.

but you had underestimated the divine prowess of your fucked up fate.

everything happened in a matter of three seconds; one, the blinding headlights illuminate your path from behind; two, you hear the loud honk, and as you turn around — three, the vehicle sends you rolling against the asphalt.

you should have taken the alleyways.

for his second act;

he alters your reality.

when you open your eyes, you thought you were dead and your spirit is wandering elsewhere — because you don't believe in trivial things like heaven and god — until an agitated doyoung comes into view. for a split second, you thought, is he dead, too?

"i'm not dead, you idiot." too dazed, you hardly register his anger. "i can perfectly handle myself, she said. i'm not drunk, she said. this wouldn't have happened if you had simply let me walk you home! you're damn fucking lucky you're alive and breathing right now!"

a person clears their throat.

"i don't think it wise to… nag at the patient the moment she wakes. don't you agree, sir?"

pink splotches on doyoung's cheek as he looks down, embarrassed at getting scolded as he stands closer to your bed. "i'm sorry, doc."

you didn't know when your vision cleared or when you started hearing normally again, but it was enough to find out what exactly had transpired on the very night of your tragic accident. a hit and run. fifty-fifty chance of surviving. doyoung getting a call from the hospital in the middle of the night —"they were trying to contact your dad, but he wasn't answering. i was the last person in your call history."

six months in a coma. but today, you wake… only to find out your world has crashed and burned.

"what do you mean i lost my scholarship?"

"baby, listen to me —"

"why did they take it away? is it because of my accident? i'm behind by one term only and i swear i can catch up. they need to let me back in the program. there must've been some mistake —"

"your gpa didn't reach the cut-off grade."

that can't be possible.

"but you tutored me!" you claim with conviction, pointing an accusatory finger at him until you groan, bowing in pain as you clutch your head.

doyoung springs into action. the chair's legs screech against the tiles as he jumps to your aid, ushering you gently back against the hospital bed despite your refusal. "you're not well. lay back down, please."

you don't hear a single word he says, not when you had lost something so crucial. "i put in the effort and learned everything you taught me... i aced those fucking mid-terms! i know i did!" you were on the brink of tearing up as doyoung settled himself in front of you.

"i… i actually saw your papers," his lips set in a thin, hard-line. "everything was all wrong, sweetheart. what happened to you? i tried reasoning with the professors, mentioned your state — you know, with your best friend dying — but they didn't relent. i'm sorry y/n. i'm so —"

gone. everything is gone. the money. the dorm. what if they ask you to pay the fees from last year? what if they ask you to pay the tuition fee for this year? you have no money, no family, no relatives. no one to help. who's even going to pay for the hospital fees?

you weren't able to process anything after that. not with the sudden news of your now revoked scholarship. doyoung pulls you in a tight hug. "i was a bad tutor," he says, snapping you out of it. "maybe i shouldn't have pushed you that hard to learn them. why were your answers even mixed up y/n? i thought you knew those topics already…"

he pulls away, observing your confused state as your eyes dart everywhere in the room. "what — how are they mixed up? i know i got them right. there has to be some mistake. you taught me those topics, remember?"

"i did... "he averts his gaze. "but i don't remember teaching them to you mixed up, darling. i think you did that all on your own."

"but… why would i mix up my answers? that's —"

"see, what i mean?" he cuts you off, raising a hand to give your cheek the most delicate caress. "you're not well, baby. you need to be treated, especially with how much you hit your head during the accident. don't worry, i'm here. we'll try asking if you can stay in the dorms at least until you find another place —"

"am i a charity case to you?"

oh, the surprise on the junior's face when you push him away as you pin him with a hard stare. you just don't get it. why is kim doyoung so adamant about helping you? in becoming your hero, even when you never asked him to be? if you let him help you this time around, that'll be the 3rd time he came to save your ass. it's not as if you're ungrateful. simply, you've had enough of his help. you don't know how a person like you, who literally has nothing, can return the favor to someone like doyoung.

"what are you saying —"

"i'm saying…" you fix him a hard stare. "you helping me out doesn't even benefit you in the slightest. so why do you do it?"

he pauses, staring at you with hesitance in his eyes as this seems to be the very first time you've truly seen him speechless. when doyoung opens his mouth, he mumbles, and you hardly make sense of what he said.

"do you really want to know why?"

you urge him on with an arched eyebrow, his softened tone creeping into your heart.

"you're someone special to me y/n. i don't know how or when i admitted it to myself, but you are, and it hurts me to see how shitty your luck is," he cracks a small grin, slowly settling back onto the hospital bed as he grabs your hand. "it's okay to seek help from others. it isn't a sign of vulnerability or weakness. i help you because i want to, and i'm more than willing to take care of you. will you let me?"

you're not blind. you've noticed the way he had slowly started coming closer as he continued to speak, hands held securely in his as he looked straight at your eyes then down at your lips. and so, you act in a way you know that will surely answer his question — with a kiss.

the man before you immediately reciprocates, overpowering your own eagerness as he curls the tips of his fingers into the roots of your hair. he pulls you close, cradling you against his chest. you can taste his desperation in the way his tongue dances against yours, the kiss transporting you into an alternate reality where your world revolves around doyoung and doyoung alone.

when he pulls away bleary-eyed, both of you ignore the thin strand of saliva connecting your lips. "how about you come live with me for the time being, my love?"

still high off his kiss and natural scent, you hardly mull over the question he asks you. "okay."

days later, after you've been discharged (he wanted to chip in for your hospital bills but you had given him a firm no), doyoung had been the one to show up at the dorm to collect all your things after leaving you in his apartment. the cutie had refused to simply drop you off and had deliberately accompanied you up the elevator, through the halls, and finally into his apartment.

"i'll be out for just a minute, sugarcube."

"oh, can you get take out?"

doyoung had smiled, playfully booping the tip of your nose. "no, because i'll be cooking for us tonight as a little celebration for you getting discharged. you'll love it; i'm making your favorite!"

it was funny how the night had been nothing but utter bliss. the foreign feeling of being taken care of sprouting in your chest as you watch him cooking from behind the counter. it felt… nice. but funny enough, as if doing a 360, you both had immediately gotten into an argument the next day.

"i don't see the need for skipping another day if i feel perfectly fine! i'll figure something out once we get there, doyoung, so can we just —"

"you' re not fine, babylove — hell, you got discharged yesterday! i'm not just about to let you back into the arena with those students. they've only grown more immature since your coma, love. i seriously don't want you near them."

"fine! then i won't talk to them. simple." you throw your hands up. "there. problem solved. now, can we please just go to uni? i need to talk to the dean and the head of student affairs, too —"

"i'm going to uni, not you."

maybe it had been the way he firmly stated his claim, the way his eyes pierced through your soul as if daring you to argue further with him that made you snap.

"i'm not a prisoner in this apartment, doyoung! don't treat me like i have the plague! i'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself — jesus christ, i've been doing it nearly half my fucking life!"

too caught up in your anger, you've failed to notice the tears pouring down his face as he sets his gaze on the floor.

"you're right," his voice cracks. "i shouldn't be pushy like that. i'm sorry. you just mean so much to me and i'm so scared of losing you again. with your coma — i just — it's like i was fighting a losing battle each day that passed when i saw you in that hospital bed. i've never felt so scared in my whole life and i hated myself for not being able to protect you that night."

his tears run like waterfalls, and when you step forward with your arms wide open, doyoung sobs harder as he pulls you against him. you hardly comprehend what he says as he spoke, shaking against your frail body as you felt his tears stain your blouse. "i'm sorry, i never should've dictated what you felt — i'm so sorry."

"no, it's okay. i was feeling a little lightheaded, anyway. i'll stay here and i can come back to school next semester, right? doyoung? just… please stop crying."

he lifts his head, staring at you with bloodshot eyes before giving your forehead a kiss. you let a relieved sigh escape your lips, melting into his warmth as you prop your chin on his shoulder. if you had only been more attentive, you would've seen the reflection of his wicked grin on the tabletops. too easy.

living with him became a blur after that incident. everything fell into a routine for the next four days as you spent the day watching netflix, eating, reading, sleeping. nothing felt fun anymore. but your peaceful life had ceased during the fifth night — the whispers, they woke you up. you can hear them from behind your door at night, and when you rouse awake, you see doyoung walking around the hallway from the tiny gap at the bottom of the door. you had sighed, falling back into your plush bed as you pray to god, he keeps it down.

but what he told you the next day rendered you speechless. "me, walking around the hallways? whispers?" he says, confused. "i was already asleep, love. knocked out cold the moment my body fell on the bed."

"but…"

he doesn't spare you a glance as he takes his sweet time skimming through his notes on the dining table, coffee in one hand. "maybe it's just the meds kicking in."

"no, surely it was real! i literally woke up in the middle of the night," you repeat. "it's okay if it was you, doyoung. i'm not mad."

he sets his coffee mug down a little too loud.

"well, you can't be mad at me, sugar, because like i said — it wasn't me," it doesn't take a genius to notice he's awfully cranky today. you observe him, dark half-moons under his eyes as he relentlessly reads his notes with instant coffee in one hand.

"you're just imagining things, okay? stop acting crazy."

for some reason, the way he had uttered certain words like 'imagining' and 'crazy' made you curl into your seat in embarrassment. he was right that your doctor did prescribe a generous amount of pills per day, but his tone made it feel off, made you feel like there was something wrong with you even when there wasn't…

right?

you didn't say a word after that and had hesitantly pecked him on the cheek before he left for school. with the amount of time you're with him, two things stood out to you — his keen sense of observation and his knack for reading people. you highly doubt he didn't notice a shift in your behavior but a part of you thinks it's just the stress talking. he is about to take his finals and had recently started on his research paper.

every psych student is required to present a paper in accordance with the department's annual theme. it could be anything from proposing a theory (if you dare) to constructing a well-developed psychology model. if you don't turn one in, you don't graduate — the paper's that important, and you've been bugging him for so long about sneaking a peek on what his study is about. but he always refused.

the next week came rolling around, and both of you had been spending every day together due to the semestral break. the arguments have significantly lessened, but your episodes — eventually, you started calling it that way because that's how doyoung labels it — have only gotten worse. you end up moving out of the guest room and into his. privacy be damned. the whispers stopped momentarily but what came next became your imminent downfall.

the first time you heard it, you thought you were dreaming. but the doorknob kept rattling aggressively even as you sat up. just as you climb off the bed, your half-asleep boyfriend asks where you're going.

"bathroom," you lied.

you were always the one to snort when it comes to the supernatural, claiming it's all bullshit. yet, as whatever outside continues to fight its way inside the room, the rattling progressing into loud bangs against the door, you're not so sure of your beliefs anymore. you're not crazy. nothing is wrong with you, and you're perfectly fine. this apartment is cursed, and you are going to prove that to doyoung.

grabbing your phone from the bedside table, you turn the flash on, pointing the camera at the door as you take a footage of the mad entity that has been playing games with you. a squeal escapes your lips when a particular bang! reverberates louder in the room than all the others. the phone slips your hand, falling onto the floorboards. you don't bother to retrieve it as you scramble to get yourself back under the blanket and into doyoung's comfortable warmth.

you snuggle yourself plush against his chest, shaking as you wrap your arms around his waist, inhaling his natural scent to anchor you back.

bang! bang! bang!

you didn't get a wink of sleep last night.

"can't the video wait? there's a new episode of start-up, and i want to watch it already!" he whines, shoving his face further on the throw pillow situated on your lap.

you giggle, shaking your head as you scroll through your gallery to find the video. i'm not imagining things. i'm not hallucinating. i'm not crazy. "here! watch... i'm telling you this apartment is haunted, and the ghost probably likes you, which is why it doesn't bother you —"

your lighthearted rambling cuts off when you notice no sound emitting from your phone. weird. you could've sworn you started recording right when the loud banging has already started. your heart drops upon the wary stare doyoung shoots you before he continues to watch the video.

no, no, no, no — please!

you quickly scoot over to his side, watching as the video unfolds before your very eyes. the shot was messy as the phone was handheld, not to mention you were panicking at the time. but the video is silent. not a single noise of a rattling doorknob or banging on the door can be heard through your phone's speakers.

"maybe — maybe you didn't turn the volume up?"

you hardly contain the mortification in your face when you realize the volume's at 100 already. and as if on cue, your squeal is heard in the video and the noise of the phone hitting the floor.

doyoung's silence shakes your whole being. as you kneel before him teary-eyed, your voice breaks. "i swear, i'm not crazy."

but at this point, you don't believe yourself anymore.

for his third and final act;

he triumphs.

his deprivation began in minuscule ripples.

it didn't take much effort on doyoung's end to convince you to stop studying for a year or two, at least, only until your hallucinations aren't as severe anymore. everyday felt like hell on earth as the fine line between what's real and what isn't has blurred over one too many times. in sheer paranoia of accidentally hurting him in his sleep, you moved out of his bedroom and had started sleeping in the guest room again — much to doyoung's frustration.

but he's a smart man, one that recognizes an opportunity amidst the hurdles thrown on his path.

"why does my door need a lock outside again?"

he approaches you, who’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, after screwing in the last of the screws that came with the new doorknob. doyoung is familiar with the look written on your face, has observed and studied you enough to navigate his way inside your pretty little head with ease.

he can't have you doubting him, can he?

"you know i'm all about protecting you, right?" he starts. you nodded. "i've been doing it for a year now, and i will continue to do so until you need me to. the world is a bad place, sweetheart, remember? your own best friend's mother tried framing you. your dad disowned you. you've been ostracized in the whole college... do you think i'm just like the rest of them, baby?"

doyoung has already mastered the perfect expression of a kicked-puppy, one that easily pulls at your heartstrings and has you cooing at him.

"no!" you say with conviction, reaching forward to thread your fingers through his. "i know you're different, not like any of them at all. i know you're only doing what's… best for me."

he ignores the underlying hesitance in your tone. that will be corrected, sooner or later.

doyoung tightens his hold as he kisses the back of your hand. such an innocent gesture — but such ill intentions.

"the outside lock helps me in protecting you, love. you don't need to worry about anything. just focus on getting better, alright? i'll keep the bad guys away from you."

it was during his first semester of senior year, a few months back, doyoung and a good few students of his batch had been granted the opportunity to intern for a mental hospital located near the edge of the city. he was supposed to decline the offer but you convinced him to take the spot. it had only been a two-week “job” yet it was enough for doyoung to conclude — he’d rather kill you than subject you to the horrors of what the patients have to go through in the loony bin.

eventually, the small ripples shift into unforgiving waves, dragging you into the depths as everything comes crashing down before your very own eyes.

it should have been like any other day inside the apartment. doyoung's already gone in the morning to attend classes. though not before setting a tray of your brunch on the nightstand, making sure to lock your door on his way out. he knew your nightmares and anxiety kept you up at night, resulting in longer hours of sleep during the day.

turns out, you moving out of his bedroom had been a blessing in disguise. coming home to an empty apartment has become his biggest fear yet, and you unconsciously found a solution for him. one that doesn’t have him fidgeting on his seat as he counts down the minutes ‘til he’s back by your side.

doyoung smiles unconsciously as he listens to his professor drone on and on in front of him — his mind at peace, knowing you're safe and sound in your little prison.

until he received a text that made his blood run cold.

ty, 11:34 am —im done.

meanwhile, you rouse awake once more to thunderous poundings against your bedroom door. oh no, you thought. it's happening again. this time, there'll be no doyoung barging into your room, half-asleep and hair messy, as he tries to calm you down. you throw the blankets over you as you sob, hugging your legs against your chest as you try to 'wake yourself up' from the hallucination.

the person outside calls for your name, the desperation in their tone alighting a new-found fear in your heart. you don't know what's real anymore. is this truly happening, or is it another hallucination your fucked up mind has conjured up?

"please! it's taeyong! y/n, can you hear me?"

taeyong?

slowly, your head peaks above the blanket, warily staring at the door. doyoung has warned you about these kinds of things, has practically ingrained in your mind that whoever comes looking for you will take you away from him. not to mention, doyoung slipped one time and said he isn’t friends with taeyong anymore.

the banging on the door progresses.

“are you in there? answer me! i can’t find the key!”

you don’t say anything, merely pushing the covers off your body as you keep your eyes fixed on the beating door. it looks like it’s about to pop out its hinges as taeyong relentlessly fights his way inside your room. what are you going to do? do you open the door? oh. right. you can’t do that on your own accord. the key is with doyoung and he isn’t in the apartment at the moment.

all your thoughts come to a halt when the boy outside sends the door flying open, finally breaking the lock with one powerful kick. you flinch back, his actions pushing you on your feet, wanting to place a maximum amount of distance from the intruder.

taeyong looks frantic, disheveled as he immediately notices your alarmed state. he approaches you cautiously, hands up to show his empty palms. “hey, hey… it’s just me, y/n. i’m not going to hurt you. i’m not the enemy here.”

“doyoung doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

the look of surprise on his face is an answer in itself. for someone doyoung had proudly claimed to have “broken” you’re still quite quick to catch up on things, taeyong observed. and he doesn’t know what to feel about it — pity? guilt?

“that’s not important!” he claims, boldly surging forward to grasp your shoulders with a firm grip. taeyong felt his heart dropping when you flinch under his grasp.

“listen to me. we need to get you out of here. doyoung isn’t — he isn’t everything you thought he is!” he can’t help but raise his voice, panic surging through him because there’s not much time left and you aren’t exactly cooperating. you’ve been trying to shrug off his hold the whole time.

“do you think he actually loves you?”

“he does! stop saying bullshit!”

“doyoung never loved anyone and you want to know why? because he’s too in love with his research to care for anything else!” taeyong felt bad to have been so direct, especially when he sees the tears now falling freely down your cheeks. “listen to me, y/n! i’m not the enemy! if there’s anyone you should be pushing away, it’s doyoung! he turned you into his lab rat! you are nothing but a variable in his study! don’t you get it?”

taeyong grabs a firm but gentle hold of your head, trying to make you look at him straight in the eye for the gravity of what he’s about to say to you.

“doyoung had his eye on you since sophomore year. i told him this was a bad idea and that he should change the topic of the research and he was. fucking hell, he was about to scrap the whole thing until your bestfriend died and did you know what that psycho told me? that it was a sign for him to continue the research! and i’ve been pestering him so much that he moved out because he claimed i was going to get in the way of his discovery.

tell you what, if you can tell me right here, right now, that he has mentioned anything — anything at all — about his study to you then everything i’m saying is a lie.”

you have asked doyoung for the longest time about that research but the answers have always been the same. “not yet, my love. it’s not time for it to be seen with your eyes. soon, okay?”

with a voice not louder than a whisper, you ask. “what… what’s his research about?”

you fail to see the sorry look on taeyong’s face. “in psychology, they say a person only develops psychosis mainly through genetics or drugs. although you’re technically already a worthy “lab rat” considering your mom and upbringing, he wanted to expand the external factors of what causes the disorder — grief, grades, toxic family relations…”

you hear a ringing in your ear and a sudden urge to throw up. only, you didn’t have anything to hurl because your brunch remains untouched on your bedside.

“but he hadn’t been successful. and that’s… that’s where i came along. doyoung thought the medications he’s been giving you isn’t doing what he wanted it to and he knew he needed a little push. i was… i gave him that push. remember the whispers, the banging on the door at night? it was all me. he made me do it. you know what that means, right? you’re not crazy. you don’t need to stay here cooped up like some kind of pet, believing all his lies as if it’s written in a fucking bible —”

he stops. and if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t’ve heard the familiar beeps of the front door’s automated lock going off. doyoung’s home.

in lightning speed, taeyong has you sheltered behind him, throwing his warm coat over you in the process, hoping to give the smallest comfort amidst the chaos that’s about to erupt. there’s no point in pretending or hiding — one look at that lock and his crazy friend would know something’s off.

taeyong feels you flinching behind him with every heavy footstep against the floorboards as doyoung wastes no time in getting to your room. and when he finally appears, hands braced against the door frame, you’ve never been this scared your whole life. his eyes are drawn into slits, fixated on taeyong alone. “how fucking dare you?”

“it’s over, doyoung. give it up or you wouldn’t have to suffer a longer sentence than you’ll already get.” taeyong tried with his whole being to appear intimidating.

“what’re you saying, yong? i meant, how fucking dare you barge in here and disturb my girlfriend in her sleep? that’s not very nice of you…” doyoung sports a disarming gummy smile as he approaches, hand outstretched and beckoning towards you. “c’mere, baby. i don’t think you’ve eaten lunch yet?”

“drop the fucking act, you psycho!”

“what act?” doyoung tilts his head innocently, gaze shifting from taeyong’s and yours, who keeps peeking from over his ex-friend’s shoulder. luring you out is a piece of cake unless taeyong decides to make things a wee bit more complicated, doyoung thought. “i’m just concerned for my darl —”

“we’re leaving.” taeyong cuts him off, breaking eye contact as he places a firm grip around your wrist. he pulls you towards him, farther away from your supposed lover as he tries walking past doyoung.

but the said man pushes taeyong back with a humorless smile on his face. “and who told you that you can do that?”

a pregnant silence befalls the room as the two men size each other up. they regard each other with such hostility, you can't help but unconsciously fist the back of taeyong's sweater in nervousness, prompting the man to turn his head over his shoulder for a swift second to check up on you.

but a second is all that doyoung needed to deliver the first kick towards taeyong's legs, throwing him off his balance. if it was one thing doyoung knew, is that he needed to eliminate taeyong's agility all together if he wants to win against him.

but taeyong isn't one to back down. the moment doyoung straddles him on the floor, with a fist raised to throw a punch, taeyong grunts as he rolls them around. doyoung now receiving taeyong's rain of fists as he yells. "fuck you! you manipulative asshole!"

you sat on the corner, horrified of the scene happening before you. you've never seen doyoung this way. he has always been your sweet, caring bunny, but after everything taeyong said, you aren't so sure you even know the man you've been living with.

"everything i did, i did it for her!" you flinch at the sound of bones breaking as doyoung kicked taeyong's ribs. "she had nothing to lose! i saved her!"

the door is open, you noticed. wide-open and inviting you to make a run for it. and you would have made a run for it... but taeyong. you can't leave him behind, not when he lays there bloody and grunting in pain as doyoung lets his anger take over him. so, as stupid as may be, you did it. you had to.

"you didn't save me," you say, schooling your face into indifference as doyoung whips around, forgetting about taeyong in the bat of an eye. "you caged me in here, treated me like there's something wrong with me, gaslighted me into believing everything you said! and... what did you say? 'saved me'? you made me go through hell!"

the whole time, taeyong tries his hardest to stand upright, but his broken ribs don't allow him to. the pain too great that he had no choice but to crawl instead, arms pulling his weight as he drags himself across the floorboards, desperately trying to get doyoung's attention back on him even if it meant getting beaten to death.

meanwhile, he had his eyes trained on you the whole time you spoke, sobbing as you walk backward in fear as doyoung approached you with a dark glint in his eye. he doesn't like what you're saying; that much is very clear. he wanted to yell at you, to scream of your ungratefulness despite his constant care but instead, he says.

"i thought we were making progress, baby. i guess i have to drill everything in your brain again. you're not okay, but you will be after i treat you."

you try to fight the urge to look at taeyong as he finds his strength, silently rising up from the floor to ambush doyoung while he's so busy preaching about you.

"what i said is true, baby. do you actually think this scum over here is doing this to save you? do you actually believe everything he said? i've been here since day-1, my love. literally. and have i ever let you down? no. everything i'm doing is for us. even this damned research!"

taeyong surges forward to put him in a chokehold, but everything happened so fast, and the next thing you knew —

"did you actually think i'd fall for that?"

you didn't know the sound of a knife cutting through flesh could sound that loud, but nothing could beat the strained gasp that tumbled through taeyong's lips as he shakily held the knife pierced through his heart. you would've been concerned about how doyoung got it so accurate in one go or where the knife even came from. but you were too busy screaming, collapsing against the wall as you let out a broken sob.

"no," you mutter. "no, no, no..."

you can't bear to avert your eyes from taeyong as he lies dying before you. the look of fear in his eyes would forever be ingrained in your mind, and no amount of brainwashing or gaslighting would ever make you forget.

doyoung killed him. you lost.

the knife clatters loudly on the floor as he slowly turns around as if he himself has yet to register what he did. you didn't know what to expect from doyoung's reaction but certainly not the eerie smile that starts spreading on his face.

"now... how about that lunch, baby?"

✉ : a repost no one asked but i respectfully dont give a fuck <3

#hmu if i missed a warning #yandere doyoung #yandere kpop #yandere nct #yandere nct 127 #tw swearing #tw manipulation #tw violence #tw knife

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swtorpadawan · 3 years ago

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OC Rage Language

Tagged by @a-master-procrastinator - Thanks!

@kemendin , @fenrisprime2003 @grandninjamasterren @sullustangin @starknstarwars

Click here to take the quiz

Quoraah Beltane - step back

usually, you're able to bottle up your emotions and ignore the frustrations. but, after weeks of shoving everything down, your body needs a release, and i pity the poor person who managed to piss you off. it's screaming crying, shouting, kicking lockers, whatever you can do to get it out of your system. it's a whole jean grey moment, fire and fury blasting out of you.

Mixed feelings about this one. Quoraah is definitely learning to find healthy outputs for her emotions by the end of the class story. (Okay, one-night stands aren't always healthy, nor are revenge killings.) The rage and indignation she felt from what happened to her have eased somewhat; she knows there will always be pain there, but she knows not to let it build.

Teeanah Malvern - men, raise the drawbridge

when you're angry, all your defenses go up. the unfortunate person or thing that managed to piss you off is suddenly talking to a wall. On the inside, you're screaming and crying and cussing them out, but somehow you can't express it. you're blank. emotionless. to anyone's knowledge, you could be zoning out of a lecture. because of this, it's hard to express how you're feeling when the person asks for your thoughts. you've choked your feelings down, and they won't come back up.

Teeanah has... daddy issues. Her emotions for her father were never settled before her death. Her time as a Jedi certainly gave her several coping mechanisms, and she CAN turn off if she wants to. But she'd rather use her natural charm and charisma to find more productive uses for her emotions.

Erez Noori - the regina george

someone hurts you or pisses you off, and you don't do anything. at first. but you hold that feeling of rage in your chest for weeks after the fact, acting nice but silently hating their guts, pretending like all is forgiven until you can ruin their life and hurt them the way they hurt you. it's calculated. but when you've executed your revenge, will you be satisfied?

I think this is how Erez will be if he ever becomes an “elder” Sith. He is not a nice person. What was done to him.... well... no one will do that to him again. Even if the whole galaxy has to burn. He feels no remorse for those he hurts; the universe owes him this.

Thanks again for the tag!

#OC Rage Language #swtorpadawan ocs #oc: quoraah beltane #oc: teeanah malvern #oc: erez noori #a-master-procrastinator

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1kook · 4 years ago

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commercial break ; ONE

a netflix & chill drabble this follows directly after disney+ and bust !

summary; Maybe Jungkook wasn’t always as cool and composed as you initially believed. But that’s okay, because you love him all the same. warnings; none unless u count yn bullying him as one miscellaneous; yn is regina george thats it word count; 1.3k

notes; u guys may be like “u feed us so well!” wrong i obsessively post bc I'm never satisfied with my work, like in d&b i really disliked the lack of resolution so here i am writing one the day after god bless lmk what u think xxxx

Because Jungkook is Jungkook and cannot go three minutes without profusely professing his feelings to you, the apology gets old real quick.

“I’m sorry, y’know,” he says in the middle of dinner, idly picking at his plate. It’s Chinese tonight, sprawled across the kitchen counter that overlooks your living room. The Bee Movie is playing on TV, a movie you hadn’t seen in years yet still managed to put a smile on your face. But you know what wasn’t putting a smile on your face? Jungkook ruining this movie experience with his fourth apology of the night.

You nod through a mouthful of rice, eyes zeroed in on the screen. “Uh huh,” you hum, foot idly bumping against the leg of your chair every few seconds. “That’s great, honey.”

He sighs. “I’m being serious,” he stresses. “I think, maybe you should like…” a long pause you use to shovel more food into your mouth while the bees on screen go to human court. It was a wild ride. Were they on crack when they pitched this idea? You would have been. “Punch me in the face or something,” he offers after a moment.

You quirk a brow in his direction, finally abandoning the film on screen in favor of turning to face him. “You want me to use you as a punching bag to help you get over your hurt feelings that you developed from being an asshole to me.” Jungkook nods. You shrug. “Okay.”

“Wait, really?” he says, face paling as you roll your shoulder around. “You’re gonna hit me? Like for real?” You raise your brows, as if that’s obviously what you’re going to do.

“Well, you asked for it,” you respond, giving your wrist one final flick before rearing it back. His eyes flutter shut tightly, pouty lips pursed together in a thin line. Your fist comes barreling, ripping through the air in an insane, Fortune 500-like speed, and then—

“No,” Jungkook groans, touching the spot where you lightly flicked his forehead. His bangs saved him from most of the impact, but even without it, it was barely more than a teasing poke of your finger against his skin. “You need to like, beat me up.”

You snort, turning your attention back to the screen. “You know, you’re beginning to sound a lot like me these days, Jungkookie,” you point out, fork scraping across the plate. Jungkook sighs, dropping his head onto the countertop in defeat. “Very childish.”

He lightly bangs his head across the faux marble, a strained whimper filling the air and ruining The Bee Movie. “Which is why you need to hit me or something, I don’t know. Make me pay for how horrible I was to you the other day.”

“I’m not gonna hit you,” you say, “because that would mean the next time you get mad at me, you’d hit me.”

“I would never!” he exclaims, eyes wide and round. Gone was the perfectly put together Jungkook, in was this sloppy mess of emotions. “Besides,” he says softly, cheeks a warm rosy color as he goes back to picking at his food, “you’d never wrong me like I did you.”

You hum, toying with the fork in your mouth. “Really,” you murmur, dropping the fork back on the table. You place your chin in your palm, lazily watching the movie now that you’ve missed a pivotal scene because Jungkook wanted you to beat him up. “I used your toothbrush the other day,” you mention.

Silence.

“You what?” he squawks indignantly. You glance at him from your peripherals. There’s an obvious expression of disgust on his features, eyes flickering from side to side as he digests this information. “Babe—that’s, that’s actually really…” He can’t even finish his sentence, mouth opening and closing as he finally seems to process the fact your mouth germs were on his beloved toothbrush.

“Yup,” you add. “Hope you don’t mind,” you babble on, “well, I mean, you really shouldn’t.” You glance at him, the mean streak in you crooning loudly in your ear the more and more uncomfortable he grows. “Considering you’re always spitting in my mouth.”

As wild as you and Jungkook liked to get in bed, what happened in bed mostly stayed in bed. It sounds gross to say it aloud, but he really has just been casually spitting in your mouth for the past few months. He was a dirty boy, and that fact makes him squirm.

“No, that’s different,” he frowns, obviously distraught by the valid point you bring to the table. “My toothbrush is my toothbrush.”

“I know,” you agree, nudging his foot teasingly. “Should I tell you about all the other mean stuff I do to your things that I never say sorry for?” He turns those frantic eyes on you.

“You’re lying,” he says, though there’s a question embedded within. You tilt your head to the side, as if to say, am I?.

When he doesn’t say anything more, you jump into a full novel recapture of every mean thing you’ve done and why. “And one time I was so pissed off that you finished my strawberry shampoo that I went to your house and drained the water from that stupid cactus’s pot. You know, the one Namjoon gave you?” Jungkook’s mouth opens and closes. “Why do you think it died so fast? I killed it.”

Before he can reprimand you for purposefully orchestrating the murder of his favorite senpai’s potted cactus, you’re intercepting him with yet another tale. “And another time, I was so sick of you polishing your awards all day that I went in and sprinkled a layer of adhesive pixie dust on them from the craft store, and I know it still bothers you to this day.”

“Jeez,” he sighs after a good ten parables. “It sounds like I piss you off a lot more than I think I do.”

You pat his shoulder gently, scraping the remnants of his meal into the trash can. “Yeah, but the difference is,” you say, finding your place beside him again. You don’t climb into your chair, just hover beside him until he’s begrudgingly wrapping his arms around your waist. There’s a cute pout on him, face squished against your boobs. “I routinely let out all my raging hatred against you instead of bottling it up.”

“Yeah,” he agrees sadly. “I guess so.”

Before you can let him off believing this much is fine, you intervene once more. “And also I never purposefully pick out everything you’re insecure about.”

“I didn’t know,” he cries, all traces of that suave gentlemen you love so much gone. But it’s okay, because in his place was this vulnerable puppy looking at you with the eyes of every rescue pop in those dramatic commercials on tv. Maybe Jungkook wasn’t always as cool and composed as you initially believed. But that’s okay, because you love him all the same.

“Well, now you do,” you reprimand, giving his nose a playful pinch that almost makes him sneeze. “And I think it’s only fair I get a turn.”

He pushes away from his hiding spot in your boobs with a frown. “So you won’t physically attack me, but you will verbally attack me.”

“Yes,” you respond without missing a beat. “Because you’re easy to bully and it’s probably because of the fact you didn’t have many friends in high school, which essentially made you the class loner, thus an easy target. Explains why Namjoon had to set you up on a date with someone as amazing and outgoing as me, otherwise you would have died forever alone because of your inability to talk to women and the fact you have an awfully picky personality that can be overwhelming at times. So thank me once in a while, yeah?” you smile.

Jungkook blinks. “I think I might cry,” he admits.

You cup his cheeks in your hands, puckering his lips obnoxiously for you to smooch. “Baby, you’re dating a retired Regina George. Y’gotta tighten up a bit,” you tease, relish in the tiny smile he tries to hide after your kisses.

“So is this going to be like a thing now?” he asks as you tug him over to the couch, where The Bee Movie is still playing loud and clear. He plops down and you follow, snuggling into his side. “Because I don’t think I can ever do that again. Hurting your feelings hurts my feelings.”

You snort, taking in his smell and his warmth beside you. Jungkook sinks into the cushions, pulling you close into his chest until the soft beats of his heart echo in your ears. “No— unless you want it to be?”

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #bangtanhq #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #this is mostly just a very needed resolution for me lol #mine

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etherealxgenie · 4 years ago

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Why Lila is Marinette’s Own Fault || Miraculous Why?

(Before I begin, note that this is my opinion over the topic and am no way am bashing anyone’s love for the ship and/or character. I respect who and what you like, therefore expect the same courtesy. However, if this is something you cannot handle, please click the back button as this will be a heavily discussed topic. No flames allowed. Other than that, enjoy.)

So usually in the story, there’s always one or two mean girls who is out to get the main character for some kind of superior reasons to justify. And there’s no reason as to why they act this way just for the sake of being mean.

Like the Ashleys from “Recess”, who tend to pick on kids just for the fun of it sometimes or cause they’re popular.

Same can go for Libby from “Sabrina The Teenage Witch” who was out to get something for what she wants or just to be superior to the other kids in school.

For Miraculous, we already have that kind of character, Chloe Bourgeois, who is the daddy’s girl of the Mayor to get what she wants. And until we had some small character development in season two (which season 3 took it away!!), we had no reason feeling sorry for her and she was just for the convenient plot in the social life for Marinette in the series.

And then… there’s Lila.

Before I get into hand in this, let me note that Lila is not a good person at all in the show. She’s a liar, a manipulator and will do whatever she can to get what she wants. She breaks into homes, steals and molests pretty models. She’s been pretty shown to be just selfish without consequences and unless we get a background story of why she acts this way, she has no excuse. Especially when she teams up with hawkdaddy to now have permission to invade and spy on Adrien whenever she wants? Fuck that.

So in Volpina, Lila is introduced as this pathological liar to get attention in season one. She obviously goes for Adrien cause he’s the famous model after all. Reasonable considering as the new person looking for attention, you seek out the most popular/famous person in the school. That would Adrien.

Though considering with her connections, it would’ve been smarter to try and impress Marinette instead if Lila did her research before she came into the scene. But of course, new person so she wouldn’t know, but whatever.

And we can see Lila easily just says things just to get Adrien’s approval and such.

And so, Marinette follows them around (stalking? really?) because Tikki points out Lila has the book Adrien took from his father’s vault and threw it in the trash.

Now the SMART thing to do would’ve been to see how Adrien would handle the situation and wait for him to leave, if to acknowledge Adrien has a mind of his own and knows when to walk away (which he does). Or at the very least, try to distract them as Marinette while Tikki retrieved the book.

But… no. You transform into Ladybug to lash out at a girl PUBLICALLY, for anyone including Adrien to hear, just to embarrass her and call her out on her lying because she… “hates liars”.

Marinette, you fucking lie ALL the time! Most of those times to Adrien! And I’m not just talking about when in regard to being Ladybug, you hypocritical- (groans)

I can list plenty of episodes: Gamer, Aninmaestro, Ikari Gozen and hell, even Reverser counts! If she hadn’t lied about Marc’s book, Nathaniel wouldn’t have torn it! (sighs)

And before you all start jumping at me saying Lila got what she deserves, I only agree partially. Ladybug, as a public figure and heroine, practically the face of Paris, acted irrationally lashing out at a bystander because of lies which were or were not believable. Lila was broadcasting a post or making the news, she was trying (poorly) to impress a boy. Ladybug gave Lila the Regina George treatment.

Yeah, so you caused an akumatized situation and Lila hates your guts. Hell, I would hate you too. That’s like a celebrity jumping at an innocent bystander when they’re whispering to their friend about a rumor that only the two of them were talking about. You can’t jump to try and stop them and should just let it dispel on its own. At that point, Lila had no real power but you just influenced her.

And… oh boy did things get worse because of this.

Look season 3 was trash (except for moments in certain episodes) and I feel talking about the infamous ‘Chameleon’ physically hurts me but… yeah gotta point out a few things. The whole episode was unrealistic, and it was an obvious ploy to be sympathetic to Marinette with Lila back… but… you’re not fooling me.

So, Lila is still on her lying game, being able to fool the students and the staff?! Okay if you believe a student has so many disabilities without any paperwork proof, you can actually get fired for that for fraud. As someone who worked with education before, that’s just pure incompetence.

So yeah, Marinette comes to school seeing the seats changes to accommodate Lila and upright begins to plot to discredit her for her lies. UM… what happened to trying to start over with Lila after failing to do so the first time?

Oh, that’s right. She gets that way (at least partly) because Lila is sitting next to Adrien. I can understand if it was because they rearranged the seating without her say so but let’s face it. Lila sitting next to Adrien was her real trigger.

So since Marinette failed to acknowledge her mistake the first time, she spends all day trying to prove Lila is lying and in return the class is angry at her. Alya even comes to point out that Marinette is jealous of Lila.

And you know what? Alya is right.

Alya knows at least what Marinette is capable of doing so when it comes to Adrien and how far she’s willing to go. Remember that Alya is the one who encouraged her to break into his locker and steal his phone. So of course, she’s worried Marinette is gonna do something to the new girl.

I don’t blame Alya for doing one of the most competent things in the show: Warning Marinette to NOT go off the handle without proof and not make herself look bad in the process.

And because Marinette failed to do so… she made Lila her enemy AGAIN. It was bad enough you had her as your enemy as Ladybug, but now you get to deal with twice the drama!

Your own fucking fault, Marinette.

Also, the advice Adrien gave? I don’t blame for him for it and neither should you. Yes, his advice is not perfect, but with the options he has on his plate, its hard to do something otherwise.

For every encounter Adrien has had with Lila, it ended up with her being akumatized or a disaster no matter how he tried to handle her. We didn’t get to see how he would resolve in Volpina because of Ladybug’s intervention, but he would try at least in Chameleon and try to get her to see she didn’t need to lie and actually tried to befriend her. At this point, Lila was already triggered by Ladybug and Marinette so she just might have to take Adrien by force instead.

At that point, Adrien just wants to stay away and which he was trying to tell Marinette don’t interact with Lila or confront her cause there’s no way to do so at this point. Maybe he was trying to tell her to wait until her rumors got discredited, but he didn’t say it clear enough for her to understand.

And keep in mind, Adrien is a sheltered child with little to zero social skills taught to him by Nathalie and Gabriel. Hell, we don’t know how his childhood was really like even with Emelie around either and Adrien seems more like the pacifist unless he needs to absolutely step in. And he did by cleaning up Marinette’s mess in ‘Ladybug’. So now he’s gotta suffer being around Lila more because of Marinette making Lila her enemy.

But once again, this is bad writing as the writers of the show obviously forgot what it’s like to live in reality. In the real world, Lila would be immediately discredited without any proof the moment she came back. Not to mention, some of the class have their own connections and have more braincells proven in the previous episodes. Google search and such. A 5-year-old wouldn’t believe these lies in these times. Hey, I believe that because I once had a kid in kindergarten during my time as an afterschool art teacher look at one of my books I illustrated before and said they liked the ‘graphics’.

Kids are fucking smarter nowadays than you think.

The only reason anyone would believe Lila’s lies is if she’s magically influenced with some kind of ‘silver tongue’ spell or something and honestly? It looks like that’s the reason.

I dunno if Thomas Astruc or Zag is trying to insult the kids/adults or insult themselves to say Paris people aren’t that smart. If it’s the latter, you should see what you are doing because I don’t want to believe that because that’s disrespectful.

I know it seems I’m trying to stand up for Lila this portion, but I’m just looking things in a more realistic and logical way. Did Lila take things too far? Yes, waaaayyy too far and should be arrested for it since she works for Hawkmoth. But it could’ve been handled better and that makes Marinette at fault too.

Part of me wonders if she’s done this before because in Zombiezou, she also causes Chloe to ruin her gift for Ms. bustier. If Marinette didn’t antagonize Chloe in the locker in front of the class, maybe she wouldn’t have done anything. Again, I’m not saying Chloe was justified, but if that was the reason, yeah I can see her doing it for payback.

So to all those fics where I’m supposed to be ‘Boo-hoo’ for Marinette because of what Lila did? Fuck you guys because you need to dig deeper into the story to see both sides and not just make it a pity party where Marinette is the innocent victim.

It’s called “Cause and Effect”.

And considering she made Lila her enemy, Marinette is gonna get effected enough because that’s how karma works.

#ooc #the artist speaks #the artist opinion #miraculous ladybug #marinette salt #adrien sugar #alya sugar #lila salt #mainly facts really #but there is some parts where i'm salty #so be warned #tw: cursing #constructive critism welcome #flames will be deleted #i know the difference folks

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quarantined-with-bucky · 4 years ago

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Shopping

Bodyguard!Bucky x Reader

Request: Hi! May I ask for a hc or scenario in wich Bucky falls for the reader who has a "spoiled brat" stereotype...u know? Like a Regina George from Mean Girls type of attitude, Maybe the reader is the daughter of someone important who Bucky needs to protect idk I thought it could be quite fun, anyway...loved your writing so much in "Dichotomy" ❤

Words: ~ 4,500

Summary: Bucky’s paid to be your bodyguard and you’re, well, kind of a bitch.

Warnings: None! For once ;)

...

There is three things men want in life.

1. They want to see if they can fuck you.

2. They want to see if they can fuck you over.

3. They want to get you out the fucking picture.

That was simply a fact of life. It was especially accurate in the world you grew up in: the world of powerful men, fast cars, vast mansions, and extravagant wardrobes. There was something about everyone’s cut-throat attitude that also seemed to drag along these luxuries. It was all about showing off: who had the most expensive car, whose house was bigger – whose wife was hotter.

This is the climate you grew up in: constant competition, envious friends, malicious enemies. There was a certain image you were expected to maintain, so you did exactly that. Not only did you have the weight of one day taking over your father’s company on your shoulders, you had the paparazzi stalking your every move. There wasn’t a single moment of peace in your life. You couldn’t go to the mall or the grocery store without at least one picture of you showing up on Daily Mail.

You’d grown up with it and, for the most part, you didn’t have to do things like that anyway. There was always someone to do those menial tasks for you.

Until you moved out of your parents’ house. You finally graduated college; a twenty-something kid finally ready to jump into the world on your own two feet. You were eagerly awaiting your move into your New York City apartment – a swanky two-bedroom on the top floor of a building in Soho.

Everything was going swimmingly well until you had an altercation with paparazzi. It was hard to navigate the narrow streets and sidewalks of the city, and as you were meeting your friend at a restaurant, you found it was a little too easy for the cameramen to push you around on the street. However, while you were thinking more along the lines of a restraining order against them, your father had other ideas.

“No way,” you interrupted, holding your hands up to your father. “That’s not happening.”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “It is happening. Unless you want this to happen again.” He tossed the stack of newspapers onto your dining table, the photo of you on the front page sliding across the table towards you. The title read “(Y/N) Falters – Will She Fumble Daddy’s Company?” You bit the inside of your cheek, the photo immortalized you trying to push past the group of people photographing your every step, the bright flashes causing you to hold your hands in front of your eyes. “This won’t be happening again.”

…

That’s how you met Bucky. At first, it was nice to have him around. He shook your hand once as he introduced himself. It was months before he even said anything else to you. He stood posted up in the doorway of every room you walked into. He wore a smart looking suit ever day, the top few buttons of his shirt undone to show off his tanned muscles underneath.

He walked you to restaurants, taking the lead, keeping the paparazzi at a far distance away from you. He followed you around shopping, carrying your Gucci, Dior, and Balenciaga bags to your car for you. God, it was a dream. What was even dreamier were his eyes. Before anyone approached you to speak with you, he stopped them, turning his head to look at you for your nod of approval before letting them past. And holy fuck those two seconds of fleeting eye contact made you absolutely melt. You almost started scheduling unnecessary appointments into your schedule just so he could face you again for confirmation. You stared back at him as seductively as possible, eyes half lidded, glossy, staring back at him and tilting your head in the slightest nod.

That was the only time he ever acknowledged you. That, and when he opened your car door for you. He never said much – if anything – at all. But his presence was so demanding: his shoulders were so broad, his chest constantly puffed out, his jaw clenched, and eyebrows narrowed in challenge. It took every bit of willpower not to jump his bones.

…

You had a certain mentality when it came to work. There was a certain image to be portrayed. You always dressed to the nines: a fitted suit, usually Balmain or Chanel, complete with gold jewelry and tall heels. Your makeup was done every day: a neutral pallet, something that unsuspecting peers would assume to be natural. Your hair was always perfectly in place: either cascading smoothly down your back or pinned neatly into a bun. Not only were you running the company, but you were also the face of the company.

You walked around with your head held high, shoulders back, and with determination in your step. People watched you as you walked down the hallway. Maybe some in admiration, others envy, even a few with desire. You always heard their whispers, though.

Bucky walked in-toe with you always remaining a cool two steps behind you; you could feel his gaze burning into the back of his head. You entered your office, Bucky taking his usual post by the door. You plopped down in your large leather chair, preparing yourself for your meeting.

Your morning got progressively worse as the meetings progressed, people not cooperating, work not being done, no conflicts getting resolved. As you last meeting ended, and the particularly patronizing man left your office, you couldn’t hold back muttering a “fucking prick” as the door shut behind him.

Bucky pinched is lips together, holding back a smirk. You reclined in your chair, watching him regain his poise quickly, eyes not moving from the fixed position on the wall in front of him. “You know, James,” you spoke up, instantly getting his attention. “That was my last meeting today; you can sit, if you’d like.” You gestured to the seating area across the room.

He nodded in thanks, strutting across the room and sitting on the black couch in front of you. All you wanted was to join him on the couch. The things you could do to him on that couch – the things he could do to you on that couch. “You can call me Bucky,” he stated, reclining against the back, legs spreading open a tad bit.

You nodded stiffly and bit your bottom lip, unable to tear your eyes away from his splayed posture. “Bucky,” you whispered, testing his name on your tongue. And, damn, it tasted good.

You snapped yourself out of your fixation, pulling your laptop in front of you, pretending to work as you couldn’t get that image out of your head. The face that you could still see his propped-up figure over the top of your laptop screen; his eyes had not drifted from your person.

…

Your were temporarily blinded, gripping the back of Bucky’s jacket as he pushed through the crowd of people, shoving open the door to the lobby of your apartment. Calling the elevator, he watched as you smoothed down the ends of your hair, trying to rub the light spots out of your eyes as best you could without smudging mascara all over your face. He ushered you in once the doors opened, holding a hand lightly to your waist.

You dropped your back against the shiny elevator walls, crossing your arms over your chest and staring at the reflection on the wall in front of you. You looked tired, makeup wearing off under your eyes, purple circles under your eyes becoming prominent; a few flyaways framed your face, curling and unruly. The doors opened and you pushed your way through before Bucky. You shoved open the apartment door, throwing your purse on the table, viciously kicking of your heels. You heard Bucky shut the door softly and he paused before entering the kitchen behind you.

Today had been effectively one of the worst days of your life. Work was terrible: your day was run with meetings and disrespectful colleagues, bulldozing over all your ideas and suggestions; it rained during lunch, completely ruining the Coach heels you were wearing to attend the business luncheon; afterwards was much worse. You were highlighted in the issue of Forbes Magazine. You’d been waiting for this for months: you’d done multiple interviews, had photoshoots, the whole nine yards. You were excited for the world to see the underlying factors of what made you you; for them to finally recognize not only your past academic achievements, but also all you have accomplished thus far with the company, for them to see that you were capable – qualified – to run this company.

Boy were you hopeful.

You were met, in fact, with quite the opposite.

Waves upon waves of criticism washed upon you after the release. You were met with all kinds of backtalk: everything from you inheriting the company, to being accepted into college because of your dads’ money, to “stick to makeup, honey.” People began commenting on how they thought you walked all over people, how you rarely seemed friendly in the workplace, how you “used men.”

It couldn’t be more the opposite.

While you liked to maintain a certain image and always have a presentable appearance, despite any men or women that sought after you, you’d turned them downs. In fact, you’d never had a boyfriend – let alone any friends.

You worked hard to retain a respectable image. The problem with working and living in a dog-eat-dog world is the sacrifices you had to make to maintain such an image. You couldn’t simply allow people to walk all over you – achieving this took years. You had to speak up in times others would cower, use your voice when there was an issue other did not seem to care about. You had to walk with your head held high and your shoulders back.

Once you obtained dominance in the workplace, you had to conquer the world of love. It could make you gag. You wanted to intimidate the men that once patronized you. You wanted them to want you, fight over you, worship you. But you’d ever let them have you. Nobody could see you vulnerable, nobody could love you, touch you, blackmail you. That’s the way it had to be.

But you couldn’t always be so ruthless. Right now, you leaned against the counter, dropping your hands onto the cold marble surface. It was one of those days like today where everything got the best of you. Everyone tore you apart, you’d spent the last half of the day just reading tweets about yourself.

“She looks like such a bitch.”

“Would it kill her to smile? Not the kind of boss I’d want to work for.”

“My friend worked for her and said she has everyone else do her work for her.”

“Forbes, is this issue recognizing daddy’s money?”

Bucky placing a mug next to you pulled you out of your thoughts. You stared down at the steaming mug, Bucking suddenly speaking up: “maybe if you drank something, you’d feel better.”

You pushed past him, shoving him away from you as you headed to your bedroom. God, all you wanted was to be alone. Did he have to be here every second of the day? All you wanted was silence and he picks this one time to start babying you? You slammed the door shut, the sound echoing throughout the vast apartment. You stripped your nice clothes, opting for a shower and large t-shirt for bed.

Bucky sat in the living room, listening to you shuffle around your bedroom. He finally stood, ready to head home, when he heard the softest sound come from you bedroom. A sniffle. Followed by another.

He leaned against the doorframe, listening to the noises that he’d never heard from you before – hell, he never thought you were capable of that emotion. He weighed his options carefully: go inside and comfort you, it didn’t seem like you had a lot of close friends or even family that checked in on you, you must’ve felt so alone, and everyone attacking you definitely didn’t feel nice; he could leave and let you deal with this on you own – which is probably what you wanted, considering he knew how long it took you to create your façade. However, Bucky could see right through it – he could always see through it. No matter how intimidating and powerful you wanted yourself to be, he and everyone else knew that you were a spoilt brat trying to live up to daddy’s expectations, but only he knew that at your deepest core, you were a tired, lonely, sad little girl, wishing for just one day of invisibility, in which nobody knew who you were, nobody care about you – like you didn’t exist.

…

You and Bucky continued your usual routines from then on, nothing changed. He didn’t talk to you; you didn’t talk to him. He spent his time pushing people out of your way, and you went along pretending nobody existed.

It was two weeks after that when you spoke to him for the third time. You and Bucky were walking from the parking garage to your place. That’s when a masked man came out from behind you and grabbed a hold of your purse. You helped in surprise as he tried to run past you, one hand loosely gripping your Birkin. Before you could even turn to the direction he ran off in, Bucky’s hand hit him square in the jaw. You gasped, holding your hands up to your open mouth as Bucky knelt on top of the man, continuously hitting him and holding him down.

You saw a flash simmer as you saw Bucky’s hand move, holding the other man to the sidewalk. Metal? Did he have a prosthetic arm? When did that happen? And why didn’t you ever notice it before?

In the mixture of bystanders, paparazzi, and doormen, the police quickly pushed through. Bucky was relieved of his post as the man was taken away. The policeman escorted the two of you to the lobby, where he took the information and returned your purse to you.

Eventually, Bucky took you upstairs to your floor. “Are you okay,” he asked, following you through the door.

You nodded, turning around to face him – face his arm. You stared at it, the metal coils formed in the shape of a perfect hand, winding upwards all the way up to where his shirt sleeve was pushed up past his elbow. It shimmered in the soft lighting, reflecting the moonlight that cascaded in through your windows. He held his hands behind his back, tilting his jaw upwards slightly as he stared you down. Your eyes flitted to his narrow ones; his eyebrows narrowed between pieces of dark hair that fell over his forehead. “Yeah,” you muttered. “Yes,” you clarified, clearing your throat.

“Do you need me to stay with you? Or are you fine for the night?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, shifting your weight from one foot to another. “Stay?” It came out more of a question than you expected. He nodded, not moving any other muscle. You quickly thought of something to break the silence and pulled your phone from your bag. “Takeout?”

He cracked a smile, nodding again. “Sounds good.”

After calling it in, you shifted away to the kitchen as Bucky sat in the living room. You didn’t know what to do to fill the silence. You’d never talked to him. You fumbled around with a wine bottle, popping it open and taking a long pull straight from the bottle before heading towards Bucky with two glasses. Hopefully some liquid courage would kick in quickly. You poured him a glass, another for yourself, and sat beside him on the plush sofa.

It was quiet. It was awkward.

“Thank you for, y’know,” you murmured over the rim of your wine glass, eyes falling to the red liquid swirling in your glass.

“No problem, it’s my job,” he replied casually. “To protect you.” You nodded; lips pressed tight in a line. You looked around the room, trying to find anything to look at. Your gaze landed on the metal arm propped up on the side of the couch. “You wanna take a picture of it, doll?” He chuckles lightly, tapping his fingers on the fabric of the sofa.

“Oh!” You snapped out of your gaze, jumping slightly on the couch. “Sorry – I didn’t mean to stare, I just – just – ” you stuttered over your words, reaching out slightly towards him.

He smiled, genuinely smiled this time, tongue running over his bottom lip. “It’s okay, (Y/N) – ” your name sounded so good on his lips “ – you can touch it, if you want.” Touch it? Touch what? You nearly started salivating. Then he held his hand out to you, palm facing upwards, fingers outstretched. You held your hand out, brushing his metal palm with the tips of your fingers. He chuckled again, flipping your hand around and holding your own hand in his. He ran his metal fingers over the backs of your knuckles. It was cold, yet so much softer than you expected.

Your eyes flitted up to meet his blue ones, already staring back at you. He licked his lips and leaned ever so slightly towards you. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as you stared at him with wide eyes and mouth agape. “See, that’s not so bad, right?” He whispered, gaze shifting from your eyes to your lips, tinged red from the wine.

You held your breath, leaning the rest of the way in, shutting your eyes.

Then you hit a brick wall.

A metal wall.

Your eyes snap open to see Bucky’s metal hand gripping your shoulder, holding you in place. “Look, (Y/N) – ” there he goes with your name, again “ – I didn’t mean to send any signals…” he trailed off, dropping his hand and pushing himself up to his feet. Signals? No, of course not. Just holding my hand, staring lustfully into my eyes, and looking at my lips. Not to mention licking his own. You almost rolled your eyes. “I’m sorry,” he sighed.

You did roll your eyes, standing with him. “It’s…” you trailed off. Save face. “Whatever.” You turned away, shuffling to the front door, pulling it open.

He left without another word, but not without stopping to look into your eyes – at least, he tried to, if it hadn’t been for you dropping your whole head, staring blankly at the floor. You slammed the door behind him, nearly nicking his back heel as he stepped into the corridor.

Well, that was perfectly embarrassing. The best way to end such a terrible day. Utter embarrassment. You didn’t know how you were supposed to face him tomorrow.

Sadness turned into anger as you threw his wine glass directly into the sink, watching as the glass shards flew across the countertops. Who did he think he was? That he could act like that and then throw it back in your face? His signals were perfectly clear. In fact, you were haunted by those signals all night.

By the touch of his skin.

By his blue eyes.

…

You didn’t sleep that night. Instead, spent your time getting ready all morning. Hair perfectly set down your back, eyes surrounded by sultry makeup, a ferocious looking contour. You put on your tallest heels, tightest dress, and shiniest jewelry.

You looked ravenous.

Bucky knocked on your front door, as he did every morning to take you to work. You slung your bag over your shoulder, took a deep breath, and swung open the door. You looked straight past him; eyes directed on the elevator doors in front of you. You walked directly past him, relying on him to shut the door behind you.

Your heart was racing, it took all of your willpower not to twitch or tap your foot as you waited for the elevator. You set your jaw and stood stonewalled.

That’s how the day went: you completely ignoring Bucky. Although you normally ignored Bucky, today you didn’t look at him, thank him when he opened the door for you, nothing. Not even sparing a glance as he stared at you from his position on the sofa in your office. There he sat, usually splayed out and legs open; you could feel him staring at you. All you wanted to do was run into the women’s bathroom and sit there all day – anywhere would be better than here with him.

That’s how the weekend went, too: you spent the first six days ignoring him. Today was Saturday and you wanted to go shopping. Not the normal shopping. Today was all about showing Bucky that if you wanted something, you got it.

Again sporting the skimpiest outfit you could manage, you dragged Bucky around shopping all day. By your fifth store, your feet were absolutely killing you from walking so far in these heels, but it was worth it to torture Bucky. He carried all of your bags – from your purse, to you shopping bags, to even your coat. And nothing pissed him off more than you waiting at the register, the person behind the counter ringing up your literal tens-of-thousands of dollars’ worth of clothes, shoes, and bags, clicking your tongue and holding your hand out for your wallet. You tapped your foot, continuing your light conversation with the employee, waiting for Bucky to drop the heavy wallet into your palm. Without a turn of your head or even a thank you, you finished the transaction, walking through the door immediately, leaving Bucky to take your purchases.

This is what he deserved after embarrassing you like that. Was he just so nice to see where you’d take it? Did he want you to try to kiss him, just so he could say no? Just so he could turn you down? To be the one guy you wanted – and never got? Maybe he was going to sell the story. He was just like any other guy – but then why wouldn’t he kiss you? And the thought replayed in your mind, as did that night’s events. You had no other choice but to continue shopping and dragging him around.

Oh, he was pissed.

A fucking bagman? That’s how you saw him? That night was probably the calmest he’d ever seen you. You seemed nervous, even. Nervous because of his arm? Yes, he would’ve loved nothing more than to have you in the palm of his hand – literally – he would’ve loved to kiss you, and touch you, and hold you. He couldn’t take advantage of you like that. Not in your most vulnerable moment. After the robbery, you mind must’ve been scrambled. He wasn’t sure if that was your way of thanking him. He wasn’t about to let you throw yourself on him – who knows how you would’ve felt the next day.

But that’s not how you saw it, and you weren’t about to let him explain.

And this show you were putting on for him? He wasn’t dumb; he would’ve had to be oblivious to not know you were showing off for him. These skimpy outfits and tight dresses, necklaces that ended just at the top of your cleavage, skirts that ended just at the curve of your ass – he loved every minute of it. But he wanted you out of it at the same time.

You were treating him like shit, which he didn’t enjoy. He could’ve stopped by now: dropped all your shit and walked right out of the store. Instead, he clenched his jaw, bit his tongue, and followed you around the block, holding your bags; the only saving grace was getting to walk behind you and stare at your shaking ass all day.

…

You pushed the apartment door open, barely holding it open long enough for Bucky to slip through, carrying bags lined up his arms. You heard the crinkling of some of the paper bags as the door shut on him. He took one step in, letting the door fall shut, then dropped everything to the floor nicely.

“No,” you said, not looking up from your cell phone. You pointed a finer across the room. “Bedroom.”

A sharp laughed cracked through the silence. You almost flinched, starting at Bucky cackling loudly at you. “That’s not my job.”

You stared at him, narrowing your eyes in challenge. “Excuse me?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, shit-eating-grin unfaltering. “You heard me, princess.”

You didn’t move. Instead, you took a step backwards as he approached you. He walked towards you until you were backed up against the kitchen counter. You mimicked his arms, crossing them over your own chest, inadvertently pushing your cleavage up – which you noticed when you saw his eyes flit down for the tiniest second before returning to your own eyes, a tinge of pink lacing his cheeks – not that he cared. “Don’t fucking call me that,” you spat, tilting your chin up. You were not intimidated by him.

He got so close that your pelvises were nearly touching. He leaned down, dropping his hands to the countertop on either side of you, his lips barely grazing the shell of your ear as he bent closer. “What do you want me to call you, baby?”

God, you looked so real in that moment. Caught off guard, maybe. But your usual forced scowl was replaced by your surprised expression, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly ajar, tongue tucked right where your two plump lips meet. You were holding your breath, he could tell. He liked you like this, better. When you weren’t trying to be all hard and intimidating, when you didn’t know how to react – couldn’t deal with these emotions because just this once, they were real.

You stumbled over your words, mind suddenly not processing anything. His stubble rubbed ever so lightly over your jaw, his breath tickling your neck. You didn’t know how long you were standing there. It felt like forever since either of you said anything.

Suddenly, he pulled away – just like before. You released your breath, about to speak and then –

He grabbed your face in both hands (one warm to the touch, the other cold from the marble) and held you so that you eyes gazed up at him. His blue eyes looking back into yours, a smile pulling at one corner of his lips. He pulled your head upwards, leaning his own down, meeting in the middle in a soft, tender kiss. He shrugged, letting himself fully tilt into the kiss, hips touching each other’s; you swung your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up to him, chest pressing against his.

God, you could get used to this.

And all it took was a little shopping.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bodyguard #bodyguard!bucky #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #captain america #request #bucky x you

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thequeenb · 4 years ago

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Enemies With Benefits

Poppy x MC

This fic is inspired by @nerdy-twin post.

Warning: Smut

My, my did i heard right? My sources have been telling me all day about the hilarious fights between Queen Bee and our new starlet

Newbee proved to us since day one that she isn't one to be messed with but don't let her charms blind you. Yesterday Chlo-- i mean Poppy's dog got humiliated Infront of our eyes loves so grab your snacks because this is going to be a long semester isn't that right Bea?

Kisses, The T

Oh that's great. Another post from The T and everyone is looking at me again. Why do people care about this stupid blog anyways? Its so irrelevant and so--

"Oh my god Bea!!" Zoe runs up to me basically jumping from excitement

"Wow slow down what happened?" Seriously she can't even catch her breath

"Girl you are top 15 material now!!" she shoves her phone on my face and i gasp. Alright now i love this blog. Everyone around me whisper and after a moment i can hear cheers from every direction of the pathway

"Woooo B-E-A, B-E-A" they all chant my name and i bow laughing at my sweet victory, i cant wait to wipe Poppy's smirk off her face

Everything stops as i hear clapping behind my back, Aaaaand there she is. "Congratulations you managed to get pass the emo wannabes and the bimbos"

"Big words coming from a bitch like you" it feels like i am in a movie because everyone gasps not knowing how to react to that. Poppy stare at me long enough to kind of worry

"Listen here you ugly pathetic idiot--"

"That's not what you told me last night" i say kinda proud of myself and that's when basically everyone looks shocked. Zoe covers her giggles because she knows alllll about it and Miss Regina George over here have gone completely pink

"I would never not even in a million years touch someone as cheap as you, Chloe go fetch me a latte, ta ta garbage" and she walks away just like that

"Wow you really have an effect on her" Zoe comes behind me laughing and i roll my eyes brushing off another stupid fight

"Do you want to watch a movie and eat our feelings?"

"Girl you know me so well"

___

"Okay but do you want to watch Mean Girls, or the finale of Gossip girl?" I ask shuffling through Netflix

"Bea this school is the definition of Gossip girl and dont get me started on Mean girls, Poppy is--" And that's when we hear a knock on the door

"It must be Penelope i invited her" Zoe yells from the kitchen pouring us both a glass of wine

I walk to the door opening it wide and thats when i see my dear enemy

"What can i do for you?" I say smirking

"For starters buy better clothes, this shirt is hideous" she gestures at my Deadpool shirt, excuse me? How dare she?

"If i wanted to deal with your attitude i would have..oh wait yes you stalk me so you are always on my way"

"Agh can you just stop talking"

I roll my eyes so hard my brain hurts. What the school doesn't know is that we have our secret fights in the bedroom. Of course i was shocked as well but here i am kinda liking Poppy, gosh i probably hit rock bottom

"Goodnight boo" i smile slamming the door shut continuing my night drinking wine and gossiping with Zoe.

___

"I will see you after class, those new burritos are to die for" Zoe says as she kisses my cheek goodbye, i love this woman

I walk freely around the empty campus. One thing that i love about Mondays is that on third period i can just have five minutes to myself and collect my thoughts, that until i find my self pinned against a wall

"Never do that again" Poppy says pointing her finger to my chest

I gasp at the surprise and she looks amused, her and her little games "Do what exactly? Exist?"

She rolls her eyes but i can see how hard she is trying to hide her smile "No one slams the door at me Newbee" and she poke her finger once

"Oh please you are always being an asshole"

"Listen here, just because i let you kiss me once doesn't mean anything, you are still garbage to me and you will always be" and another poke

She tries to do it again but i grab her finger looking at her deep into her eyes

"No you listen Poppy, i am tired of your manipulative games, you are the most awful person i have ever met!" I am glad the campus is empty, if people were here they would probably record or take pictures for The T

"Oh please Hughes you play tough but you really aren't, maybe you were important back in pig town, but here? You are just another pawn" her glare is dangerous, her eyes on fire, our tension so thick you can feel it through your bones

So i did what every logical person would do, i lean in and i capture her lips before she can say anything else that will ruin the mood. At first she tries to deny and make a surprised sound but soon her tongue is dancing against mine.

I pin her against the wall taking a quick glance around to make sure we are alone. I should be in Miss Kingsley class right now but oh god am i distracted

She places her hands around my neck pulling me closer to her, didn't i tell you? She really likes me deep inside this cold heart of hers

"Am i tough now?" i ask, our lips so close, our breaths ghosting on eachother's faces. She swallows hard "Not enough"

And as these words escape her mouth i pin her hands above her head with my one hand effortlessly as my other travel from her waist down her thighs. Poppy always wears a mini skirt enough to ignite my fire

I dig my nails slightly into her flesh and ask once again "I said, am i tough now?"

Poppy moans against my mouth and i start kissing her neck, something that drives her crazy. She wont admit it, she never does but she knows well how much i turn her on and it annoys her

"Let me hear it" i say sucking at the sensitive spot underneath her ear

"Yes you are!" she says holding onto me tight like her life depends on it

My hand now goes beneath her skirt and my oh my do i make her excited. My fingers brush slightly against her underwear and thats when the bell rings, ugh cockblocker

We both immediately separate adjusting our clothes watching the campus slowly getting crowded. Poppy's cheeks are red and i can already imagine what she is thinking of. I smile to myself watching her walk away

And that's when my phone buzz, of course a notification from The T

Hello loves,

Another day another drama. My rising star is now top 10 material, i am proud of you girl but i wouldn't count on it because we all know Miss perfect always gets what she wants. I love drama and Hughes is providing me with the best one yet. Good luck, you will need it

Kisses, The T

I still cant believe what i am reading. Top 10?!! I am here almost two months and i have outsmarted most of Poppy's moves. I smile as Zoe approach me screaming

"I knew you had it in you!!" she hugs me tight spinning me around

"Suck it Poppy" i yell as students around us are cheering. It feels good knowing that people are on my side finally seeing who they are bowing to years now

Someone tugs my hand and as i turn around i see Chloe crossing her arms

"So you managed to reach top 10 i see"

"Oh do you want an autograph? Thats so sweet" i say smirking

"Poppy is waiting for you behind the field"

"And who says that i am going?" I practically laugh but her face remains the same

"Listen i dont have all day Channel is having--"

"Alright dog, good girl! You earned a treat" and like that i give her head a pat walking towards hell basically.

I am sure Pops is mad at me, maybe she likes me but she is serious when it comes to her reputation. I approach her enjoying how nervous she looks

"If you wanted a date we could have arranged it" i say sitting next to her

Her expression is cold and distant and i sigh defeated "okay what is it? Is it the fact that i am top-"

"That list isn't that important Hughes, i can drag you down to the bottom within seconds" Wow okay i get it thats not the reason you are grumpy

"Why did you asked your dog to fetch me?"

Poppy rolls her eyes clearly annoyed by every word i say. Again i sigh not knowing what to do exactly. Sometimes i like to take her in. The way her foot is jiggling, the way she flips her hair when she is awkward. Everything about her is so perfect when all the eyes are laid on her but when we are alone i see another version of her

"I hate how entitled you feel" she finally says standing up "since you got here the only thing that you want is to ruin me!"

I feel my blood boiling as i stand up to get on her level "Excuse me? You attacked me the first moment i laid my foot in here!"

"That's because you love to shove your nose where it doesn't belong!" she now takes a step closer, anger written all over her features

"Oh give me a break, you were always cruel, people just now start to realise it" i take a step closer as well trying to intimidate her

"I run this school Newbee, you like it or not so go back to your little town where you were important because here? You are nothing" she spats out coldly and all i can do is stare at her. Her mask now falls completely

I can see the worry in her eyes,regret. Her posture isn't radiating power, instead i can see how uncomfortable she is. Aw are emotions a new thing for her? How charming.

Without missing a beat i kiss her letting all this anger turn into passion. "I hate you" i say kissing her neck desperately trying to find an inch of bare skin to touch

"I hate you more" she tries to say but her voice trails off when my hand goes underneath her skirt. I smile between our kiss when i feel how wet she is

"Did our fight made you excited?" I ask teasingly

"More kissing less talking" she says capturing my lips into a passionate kiss. I push her against a wall as my hand connects with her center

"Oh Bea.." she whispers against my lips and thats when i increase the pace just to hear her moan. Only i can watch her like this, so vulnerable so real

With each stroke i can hear her shouting my name digging her nails onto my back. Finally her body shakes as she has a violent release and i hold her tight against me

I bring my fingers to my lips and i lick them clean locking eyes with her. For a moment all we can do is stare at eachother and i think we are both questioning what did we just do? I smile trying to reach for her hand but she pulls away

Great she turned on her bitchy mode. "I will see you tomorrow?"

"I will ruin your entire life Hughes!!" She yells while walking away. Well that wasn't what she was saying seconds ago, oh wait yes she was busy screaming my name

"And yes you will, now go fuck yourself!" She yells again and i flip her off smiling

Thats how the rest of the semester went down. Infront of the eyes of the school we hated eachother's guts but behind closed doors we did the craziest things in the bedroom. Overall i do hate Poppy Min-Sinclair but i have to admit, this woman knows her stuff, enough to wonder how many layers does she really has?

Tag list: @lolimugly @origmansello @greatestflirt-hero @mvalentine @otakufangirl-12 @sugarplumpnhoneybun @coldbatfriendroad @coldbatfriendroad @indecisive-choices @i-loveeveryone @kiara-36 @ognenniyvolk @somewillwin @it-lives-in-braidwood-manor

@ghalind @jayrnada @sergeant-pepper-loves-choices @dibberdipper @justastranger-passing

#queen b #queen bee #poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc #queen b poppy #choices fic #choices fanfiction #my fics #play choices #playchoices #pb choices #choices

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lunati0ns · 4 years ago

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owl house pokemon au: blight twins

tumblr crashed when i was writing this post the first time. first post of this au here anyways!!!!! ed and em moments

edric:

out of all the blight siblings, edric takes training and battling his pokemon the least seriously. after years of pushing from his parents, those parts of having pokemon have lost their appeal; he enjoys casually spending time with and raising his pokemon the most, though he'll still have the odd battle here and there for fun. he especially likes doing double battles w/ emira.

his pokemon choices are surprisingly eclectic; he doesn't really care about for typings, much to his parents' frustration. though they tried for years to get him to adhere to their preferred typings (and to get him and emira to share a pokemon team, because, of course, the twins aren't at all individuals), they fought tooth and nail and rebelled behind their parents' backs enough that they came out the other side with individual teams that at least somewhat reflected their specific tastes.

edric usually chooses pokemon he thinks are cute or very funny

his team:

zwelious

dark/dragon type, shiny for the blight colors. he and em were given zweilous as kids, (since its a 'twin' pokemon), during the time where they were expected to share a pokemon team. they used to raise it together, but as they got older emira began to resent it a little for what it represented and left it to edric for him to care for.

wobbuffet

water type. edric chose this pokemon because he thought it looked funny and its a fantastic partner in crime for pranks

noibat

flying/dragon. he likes this one he thinks its cute :]

meowstic (female)

psychic type. not the typing his parents would prefer, but its a twin pokemon, so... it pleased them enough to get off his back about it. emira owns its twin brother. huge brat! like a rich heiress

alolan meowth

dark type. he doesn’t even care his parents chose this one for him he literally cannot fucking wait for this thing to evolve

victrebell

grass/poison type. it puts edric's entire head in its mouth when it gets excited

NOW FOR MY FAVORITE TWIN.

emira:

the same story as edric, but emira takes training her pokemon a tad more seriously. she has half-entertained dreams of becoming a famous contest competitor on her own merit rather than by riding on her famously strong parents’ coat tails in the battling world, but she's yet to take that wish seriously enough to be any good at it; although she does have a naturally good eye for fashion and aesthetics.

she usually chooses like.... pretty girl pokemon. you know the types of pokemon that usually become love interests for like meowth or whatever in the anime? those. she's vain what can she say. her favorite types are fairy and psychic

her team:

liepard

dark type. emira's partner in crime. they get on like a house on fire and have the EXACT same vibes and love for mischief. the same >:3.......

meowstic (male)

psychic type. twin pokemon. edric owns its twin sister. very polite and gentlemanly

mawile

steel/fairy type. naive and a bit ditzy

gardevoir

psychic/fairy type. gentle natured, DOESN'T LIKE PRANKS!! WHY ARE WE MAKING TROUBLE

snubbull

fairy type. a huge diva. you wouldn't even believe it. how does a pokemon this small throw such huge tantrums. gets along well with edric’s meowstic

frosslass

ice/ghost type. quiet.... with a surprisingly wide mean streak. what if regina george but she didn't even bother to make fun of you before she ruined your life

and thats it!!! will do amity soon

#emira blight #edric blight #emira #edric #the owl house #toh #pokemon au #my pokemon au #void.txt #drops this post and runs

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kindrednerdspirit · 4 years ago

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Sometimes A Thing Feels so Right: Part 2

Excerpt: Maybe she should be grateful she even knows someone could make her feel the way Newton does. Lately, though, it’s hard to feel grateful. Izzie is back to the ol’ numb-your-emotions-to-get-through-the-day routine. Her mum left again. No note, no nothing, just unanswered questions and disappointed kids.

TLDR: Timeline is after Season 3, Episode 9. It’s canon, except Izzie and Casey have not made up. Also, Evan and Casey are close friends, not just awkwardly figuring out how to be friends. Excuse the roughness, this is a work in progress.

The timeline for this story is after Season 3, Episode 9. I felt like the time in between the party where Izzie kisses a random guy (E9) and the part where Casey and Izzie make up (E10) could have been longer. It wasn’t necessarily rushed, but there was lots of potential to add more, especially in regards to Izzie’s internalized homophobia. I thought it would be fun to flush out Izzie’s feelings, and show her coming to terms with being gay. She realizes it’s not worth hiding a part of herself, especially if it means losing Newton.

Everything is the same as canon, except Casey and Izzie have not made up. Also, Casey and Evan are close friends. I think S3 E10 ends on a note where they’re friends, but still awkwardly figuring out what that looks like, so in what I just wrote, they’re solid friends.

This is unfinished, as you’ll see (it’s too jumpy), but my plan is to continue working on it. There are some things about the beginning that I don’t like, particularly the student council scene, but I’m struggling to think of ideas on how to improve it. So know that things are a work in progress and subject to change.

With Izzie’s emotions on my mind, I considered how the show hasn’t written much about her home life, either (not yet anyway--cannot wait for S4). So, I decided to write about life at home, her siblings, and the weight of having an absent parent. I was inspired and struck by the scene where Elsa sits down with Izzie, and shares how her mother was absent, too, and how that impacted her parenting style.

If you’re wondering why Izzie is hanging out with a superficial, “mean girl” crowd, it’s because I think that’s the role she played before she met Casey. This assumption is based on how Izzie first treats Casey, like when she pretends she pushed her during the sprint and when she refuses to help Casey on her first day of school. I’m also considering Izzie’s intimidating presence, and how she seems to have influence over her nameless, pre-Newton friends. This influence can be seen when she shows up at Casey’s birthday party with their Clayton Prep friends. I’m assuming that Iz is the main reason why they’re all there.

Phew! Anyhow, that’s how this piece began. Thank you for reading. Reach out if you have ideas, suggestions, criticisms, etc., or if you write Cazzie or Atypical fanfiction, too.

Friday, two weeks after the party. Izzie.

Since the party, the only thing Izzie knows about her and Newton, is that Newton wants nothing to do with her. It makes sense, really. Right after they almost kissed, she bolted and made out with someone else. Sometimes, Iz thinks of how turned on she was when Newton leaned in to kiss her. The memory alone makes her feel alive. It takes her out of the daily havoc and chaos created by her mother, reminding her of better things. It’s not like she savours the memory of Newton, though, or uses it to make herself feel better, because it inevitably gives way to embarrassment. Izzie went all the way with Nate and never, not once, did her body to respond to him like that. How could she be so dense to not know something so obvious about herself?

Maybe she should be grateful she even knows someone could make her feel the way Newton does. Lately, though, it’s hard to feel grateful. Izzie is back to the ol’ numb-your-emotions-to-get-through-the-day routine. Her mum left again. No note, no nothing, just unanswered questions and disappointed kids. It’s been a long time since Iz held any hope that her mum would stop using. Her siblings are different. Sometimes they still wait for her, awake in their beds at night, hoping she’ll come home safe.

But her siblings are all younger than her. Jason, the oldest, is eleven. He helps out with Alysha, their seven-year-old sister, and Arya, their two-year-old sister. He is so unbelievably sweet and Iz has no idea where he gets it from. She tries not to place too much responsibility on him, though. He’s still a kid, and the last thing she wants to do is rob him of his childhood.

Iz walks up the stairs to Clayton Prep as the warning bell rings. She cut it too close today. Selena has been sick this week, so the usual morning routine was a slog. She’s fussy, so Izzie woke Jason earlier than usual to help Alysha get ready. Iz considered an earlier wake-up time for herself but Coach is particularly barky lately, concerned that she is not getting enough sleep. It’s annoying when Coach notices things, because she’ll ask if things are okay at home. And what is Izzie supposed to say, exactly?

“My mum is an addict.”

“My siblings need me to take care of them.”

“I’m worried that I’ll have to quit track, because my mum is a mess.”

“At any moment, the floor could fall out from underneath me, and I live with that possibility every day. But yeah, things are okay at home.”

Anyhow, Iz knocked on Jason’s door and gently shook him awake. Waking Jase 20 minutes earlier than usual doesn’t count as ruining his childhood, right? His response is a groan and a loud, “Why!?” That’s how Izzie knew it was going to be one of those mornings.

Like usual, the rest of the morning was a blur as Izzie got Arya ready for the day, while monitoring Jason and Alysha. She fed Arya as they got on their shoes.

“Where’s your coat, Jason?” Izzie asked in between scooping spoonfuls of mashed banana into Arya’s mouth.

“I don’t need one.”

“You wear your coat when you leave this house. Go get it, please.” She handed Arya their agendas and lunch, then kneeled in front of her.

“Love you, hon.” She said before giving her sister a big hug and a kiss. Jason returned with a blue jacket and gave Iz a quick one-armed squeeze before running out the door.

“Wait for your sister!” She yelled after them before the door slammed shut.

When Izzie’s mum is sober, she leaves the house at 7:30 am, promptly arriving 15 minutes before the warning bell. With her mum AWOL and Arya needing to be delivered to her grandparents, Iz gets to Clayton Prep 15 minutes later than usual--too late for somebody trying to get into UCLA.

Izzie rushes to her locker. Her pre-Newton friends, who’re her current friends, wave and tell her to “hurry up.” Iz turns her lock clockwise, counterclockwise, clockwise in its familiar pattern, then opens the door. As she is switching out binders, her heart stops when she sees a folded piece of paper. A note from Newton? Not wasting a second, she grabs it and opens it.

It reads, “Do you like me?” Two unfilled boxes are underneath, one with the word “yes,” the other with the word, “no.” There is no name indicating who wrote it.

Izzie’s heart pounds in her chest. Newton didn’t write it. This would, sadly, be the most exciting part of her school day. She stuffs the note in her pocket and makes her way to the library.

Student council is a new gig for Izzie. She has essentially reverted back to her pre-Newton self. Her old friends happily welcomed her back, inviting her to join student council in the process. There is Scarlet, who is like Regina George with less anger. She’s popular, bossy, mean, but she doesn’t mess with Izzie. Then there is Harmony, who is like Scarlet’s right-hand woman who does what Scarlet says. She probably has a personality, but Izzie hasn’t seen it, yet. Maybe Harmony will get a personality once she snaps. Lastly, there’s the new initiate who Iz is just getting to know. Her name is Mel, and she seems sweet. Why she’s hanging with Scarlet or Harmony is still a mystery to Izzie.

Iz enters the room right before the bell rings, and pulls out a chair. Everyone is looking at her.

“So?” Scarlet mischievously smiles. “Any new news?”

“No.”

“No… notes?” Harmony jumps in.

“Oh, yeah, but no name on it.” Izzie pulls the note out of her pocket, unravels it, and puts it on the table.

Scarlet snatches the note and examines it, while Harmony and Mel lean in.

“It’s from Brad. As in Nate’s friend, Brad.” Scarlet points to a previously unfolded piece with Brad’s name. The girls look giddy, all with wide grins on their faces. Well, at least Harmony and Scarlet are grinning, Mel looks uncertain. She likely has no idea who Brad is. Lucky girl.

Izzie sits on the other side of the table, not impressed. “Great. The best friend of the dickhead who lied and cheated on me likes me.” Iz starts fishing her binder and pens out of her backpack.

“Oh, come on, Iz. Chin up. This could be a great rebound for you. Also, it would totally make Nate jealous.” Scarlet and Harmony giggle.

Iz enjoys the thought of an angry Nate, too, but she mostly doesn’t care. “Can we not talk about Nate? I’d rather just get started.”

“Yikes. No help this morning, either?” Asks Scarlet.

Izzie shakes her head. Unfortunately, Scarlet and Harmony are very aware of Izzie’s home life situation. Iz had a moment of weakness months ago (pre-Newton), where she broke down and told them about having to look after her siblings.

The girls are empathetic to Izzie’s situation, promptly starting the student council meeting. There is a school dance coming up that has Harmony and Scarlet’s attention. Iz zones out, thinking about how everything at Clayton Prep drags without Newton. It’s less interesting, less fun. She remembers the time she pretended Newton pushed her during their first sprint. Shame immediately rushes over her at the thought of the memory. Izzie was so certain Newton was just another over privileged rich kid.

“Iz?” Scarlet is staring at her.

“Yeah?”

“Wow, where were you? We’re voting on Mel’s idea. Should we ask for LGBTQ+ safe spaces in our next meeting?”

Izzie is caught off-guard. Usually, the conversations revolve around more trivial things, like dances and hem lengths on the girls’ uniforms. Her mouth moves before her brain catches up.

“Yeah, I support Mel’s idea.”

Scarlet raises her brow. “Okay, you two can brainstorm ideas for making safe spaces. Harmony and I will keep working on the dance.”

Mel turns to Izzie, “Thanks.”

“Yeah, well, Clayton Prep is supposed to be one of the more progressive schools, but I barely see any posters or anything saying it’s a safe space.”

Mel smiles and nods, “My thoughts exactly.”

Izzie feels her heart skip. Is that… excitement? Did something more interesting happen today than a jock’s secret love note? She tries to keep herself from smiling too wide while brainstorming with Mel, who is suddenly the only other person on her radar.

Later that evening

The first clue that her mum is back is the hunk of junk parked in the driveway. The second clue is the smell of pepperoni deluxe pizza that hits Izzie when she pushes open the door. Her mum always bought pizza as an “I’m sorry” treat. Iz walks into the kitchen with three large bags of groceries--groceries that she rushed to buy after school, so her and the kids could eat dinner at a reasonable time.

“IZZIE, my beautiful, gorgeous girl!” Her mum gets up from the table and gives her an exaggerated hug in front of Boyfriend Number… Six?

Iz doesn’t know if she’s high or not, and doesn’t care to find out.

“Hey.” She’s short as she puts away the food.

“This is Steve. Steve, meet Izzie, my oldest.”

“Hi, nice to meet you.” Steve almost sounds like he means it.

It’s never worth her time to meet her mum’s boyfriends, so Izzie ignores them and puts away some pasta sauce and beans.

“Hey,” her mum’s tone flipped remarkably fast, “I raised you better than that--don’t ignore people when they talk to you.”

Iz has also learned, over time, that it’s best for her to preserve her energy when it comes to her mum. This is one of those battles that wasn’t worth her time.

She turns to Steve, expressionless, and says, “Hi,” then immediately begins to put away canned corn and soup. “So Steve, were you in the picture before or after my mum left without notice for five days?”

No answer from either of them, but it doesn’t matter, the situation is disappointing enough already. Iz slams the cupboard shut and leaves to check on her siblings. She numbed herself the moment she walked through the door, anyway.

Saturday morning.

Iz wakes up the next day to a bright, beautiful Saturday morning. She groans, not wanting to deal with her mum today, so she decides to go for an early run. Leaping into her hoodie and track pants, she pads down the hallway and into the kitchen.

“Hi, beautiful.” Her mum is sitting at the table with a cup of coffee.

Iz frowns and fills her water bottle. “Did you sleep last night?”

There’s a scoff and a shuffling of feet. “What does it matter if I slept or not?”

“You know it matters!” Izzie’s raised voice even surprises her. Insomnia is one of her mum’s symptoms when she’s taking too many painkillers.

Her mum doesn’t say a word.

“Where did you go?” Izzie presses.

“I’m not having this conversation with you right now.” Her mum gets out of her chair and leaves the room. Other symptoms include hostility and mood swings. Nowadays, it was difficult for Iz to pinpoint her mum’s “normal” level of agitation. She always seemed sad or angry.

Feeling the familiar anger rise in her chest, Izzie calls after her. “Wherever you were for the last five days, I hope it was worth it!”

Friday, two weeks after the party. Casey and Elsa.

It’s a normal day in the Gardner household, whatever normal is when Casey’s autistic brother understands her relationship with her ex-girlfriend through the lens of two gay penguins who adopted an egg. And now Casey is not with her ex (hence the term “ex”), so she’s wondering if there’s another example of a gay penguin that Sam can compare her to that doesn’t have a partner. Oh, and then there’s her parents who are living together but not technically together, but they sometimes go on dates...

Anyhow, Casey is readying herself for a run. She wolfs down some pancakes made by Elsa, who is doing her typical mum thing and staring too long at her daughter.

“What?” Casey asks in between mouthfuls of fluffy, syrupy deliciousness.

“Have you talked to Izzie, lately?” She asks because for over a week, Casey hasn’t been looking at her phone with a goofy smile on her face, or laughing to herself while staring at the screen. Something is up.

“Nope.” It’s a firm “no,” denoting that there’s nothing else to say about the subject.

Elsa is not convinced, but letting her kids come to her for support has been not only rewarding, but extremely successful, so she doesn’t press further.

“Uhm.” There’s a beat as Casey wonders whether she should continue or not. “I saw grandma yesterday.”

Elsa stops washing the plate she’s holding, and turns to face her daughter. “Oh. Where?”

“Outside the hair salon. I crossed the street and talked to her for awhile.”

“That’s good!” Elsa nods a bit too vigorously to sound convincing.

“Why don’t we see her much? I mean, like, what happened between you two? For real.”

Casey knows that Elsa and her grandma don’t get along, but Elsa has held back on telling her daughter the full truth. Painting her mum as an alcoholic, absent parent wasn’t how Elsa wanted her children to see their grandma. And, even though those days are in the distant past, they still stir up difficult feelings for Elsa.

Maybe she was unwittingly selfishly avoiding this conversation? She used to tell herself to wait for the right time, and now seemed like as good a time as any. Especially with Casey opening up to her recently about her feelings toward Izzie. She usually went to Doug for advice, so to finally have “girl” time together was really special.

With that thought in mind, Elsa pulls out a chair and sits beside her daughter. She takes a deep breath before speaking.

“I didn’t get along with my mum growing up. She wasn’t around when she should’ve been. She’d drink too much, come home too late, and there was a lot to do around the house, because she was absent. She was often around...physically, she didn’t go on benders or anything, but she was mentally gone. A lot. Even now, it’s hard for me to be in the same room as her, let alone trust her.”

Casey sucks in a quick breath. Elsa’s eyes are watery, but no tears fall. “Oh.” Casey’s short reply feels stupid and lackluster. Speechless, she hugs her mum. For once, she feels very grateful for her mum’s presence, even if that presence is often bothersome.

“Love you.” Casey says before pulling away.

“Love you, too.”

“Thanks for not being a giant, meddling Elsa earlier.” She smiles wryly before leaving her seat, then leaving the house for her run.

Saturday. Izzie talks to Evan.

She loves the feeling she gets when she is running, like all her problems are somehow smaller, because she can think clearly. Izzie’s feet hit the warm pavement rhythmically, taking her further and further from home. Sometimes she fantasizes about running and never turning back. She could be free, free to go wherever she wanted and be whoever she wanted to be. But that’s all they were--daydreams. She could never leave Jason, Alysha, or Arya. One thing she could do, however, was let her feet take control, at least for a little while. Which is why she eventually found herself at… Don’s Pizza?

You don’t want to be here, she thinks to herself. Evan works here.

She stands looking at the entrance while families peer over at the strange, lone person on the edge of the parking lot.

Fuck it, I’ll just sit down and buy a slice. Just because Evan works here doesn’t mean that this has to be a big deal.

Iz lets her feet walk her through the front door. He is there, of course, standing behind the counter, wiping it down with a washcloth. He hasn’t looked up, yet. She could still leave.

“Evan, customer at the door.” Someone barks from the kitchen.

As soon as his eyes meet Izzie’s, his face hardens, but he walks over.

“Hey.” There is an awkward pause. “Would you like to sit at a booth or the counter?”

Iz doesn’t skip a beat. “The counter.”

“Uhhm… that’s where I’ll be.”

“I know.”

His eyes narrow. “Look, I don’t think we should talk about Casey.”

Iz raises her eyebrow. “Oh, are you suddenly uninterested in her? That didn’t take long.”

Evan folds his arms and sighs. He doesn’t want to stand in the doorway any longer, and he is a little curious as to why Izzie is here. The last time he talked to Casey, she told him that Izzie didn’t want to date her, almost like she had cold feet or something.

“This way.” He says gruffly while walking toward the available spot at the counter.

She follows him and pulls out the bar stool. Iz looks at the table while Evan stands behind the counter, the two saying nothing.

“I think I made a mistake.” Izzie blurts. Her chest rises and falls. Was she sweating? “I never should have got between you and Casey. She deserves...I can’t give her what she deserves. My life is complicated and I’ll just get in the way of her and UCLA.”

Evan is leaning against the counter, his arms outstretched with the washcloth in his back pocket. “For someone who’s smart, you’re really dumb.”

“I know.” Iz covers her face with her hands. She is overwhelmingly embarrassed by confiding in the one person who likely hated her, and unbelievably distraught over missing Newton.

“What is the problem?” He’s exasperated. “She left me because she likes you more. When I was with her, she lit up when she talked about you! Casey was different around you, like you two were in sync or something. You’re an idiot for throwing that away.”

Izzie feels her eyes warm up from the tears. Evan sighs and looks right into her eyes. “Just go to her.” He waits a beat. “Please? Preferably sooner rather than later, so I can get back to work.”

A grin spreads across Izzie’s face and she hiccups out a laugh. “I’m not ordering anything.”

“Yeah, I gathered that. I’ll still take a tip, though.”

She smiles wryly and puts the only bill she has on the table. It’s $5. “That’s for stealing your girlfriend.”

“That’s…” For once in this conversation, Evan is speechless. “You know what? I have actual work to do, so…”

Iz pushes in her stool, feeling lighter than she did ten minutes ago. “You know, I think I’m starting to understand your appeal.” She switches to a more serious tone. “Thank you.”

Evan nods and does, in fact, get back to work.

#casey and izzie #cazzie #cazzie fanfiction #fanfiction #atypical #help me fix the beginning #halp pls #excuse the mess #good guy evan

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