#fun fact: I pretty much did the whole background in one night (like Friday night) because I got possessed by Creativity + it was wonderful

[astrodances]

It may not be Starfleet's first contact with Risa, but it is Spock's, and the only way Kirk and McCoy could get him down to the pleasure planet was with the promise of something he'd want to do - in this case, play music.

Happy Winter and Happy January to @longsleevelaceration!! I'm your person for the @startrekwintergiftexchange! I took a twist on your request for Spock playing music - I hope you enjoy, and may you live long and prosper!! 😊🖖🌴✨

Blurred-background version under the cut!

[thedaveandkimmershow]

For the first time in our marriage, Kimmer 'n I did not exchange gifts on Christmas Day.

Which is kind of surprising because I'm the past we spent most of Christmas Eve wrapping gifts as well as last minute shopping. In the past, I stayed up 'til 1 or 2 finishing my wrapping duties. In the past, we crafted our Christmas Day around gift giving.

So...

What happened?

A couple things. We entertained more and we gave ourselves permission to prioritize peace and relaxation.

Don't get me wrong, we had plans for how Christmas Eve and Christmas Day would work. In fact I was articulating those plans to my dad on the afternoon of Christmas Eve.

So even we, at that point, didn't have a clue about the pivot we'd make in what we believed was a pretty established plan.

Oof.

When talking about the week of Christmas in the past, I usually talk about it as if we're launching ourselves from the top of a slide that, in our case, begins on my birthday, the 23rd, and ends when we go to bed at the end of Christmas Day, fully exhausted.

This time around, we had a soft start on Saturday the 21st, the Eve of a Christmas dinner part with some dear friends. Of course there's preparation involved so once we're a couple days out from that Saturday all we're thinking about is that Saturday.

We didn't deep dive into our plans right away on Thursday, thank goodness. I think the most Christmas thing we did was watch How The Grinch Stole Christmas at midnight before going to bed.

Friday, though, the 20th, was definitely a production day. I set our flat screen on the piano bench in our living room and let our Christmas With The Kranks dvd play in the background while I de-Thanksgiving'd our dining room, living room, and holiday tree.

Holiday tree?

Yeah. We leave the tree up the whole year and decorate it according to the holiday or the season. In this case, it was decorated for Fall with Fall colored leafs. There were more such leafs around the rooms as well as pilgrim figurines in one spot. I gathered it all up into crates that are stored in the garage.

Now, while I'm de-Thanksgiving the rooms and tree, Kimmer starts wrapping presents in living room...

Baking caramel for apples in the kitchen...

Making white chocolate pretzels in there as well.

The presents she's wrapping, by the way, are for our friends coming over the following night. Linzy and her boyfriend are also supposed to join us but that's looking less and less likely as she valiantly tries to recover from a bout of laryngitis. ☹️

Meanwhile, as all the preparation continues, Christmas With The Kranks finishes and we pop in the movie, Scrooge, starring Albert Finney. It's a favorite of Kimmer's from her childhood. It's also a musical with a relentless earworm of a song called "Thank You Very Much" that's both catchy and clever, playing on the reality that the townspeople are celebrating Scrooge's death while Scrooge, guided by the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come, believes he's literally being thanked for some achievement.

Since we also recently watched "A Muppet Christmas Carol", though, we're pretty much in agreement the Paul Williams is the better composer, the Muppet soundtrack being the superior composition across the boards 

Now it's Saturday the 21st. We're gonna have guests today so I get to vacuuming and sweeping the house from one end to the other. Kimmer finishes with the presents inbetween bouts of cooking while "The Santa Clause" plays in the living room.

After I'm done with the floors, we pull out the exterior Christmas lights for the front of the house.

At some point we head out shopping. I quickly bound over to FedEx to pick up a canvas print I made for Kimmer. Then I hit Trader Joe's, the Dollar Tree, our Neighborhood Walmart, then home again by 530.

Shortly after, our friends turn up with their kids and we have a fun, lovely, wiggly, delicious evening.

Now, we haven't yet placed ornaments in the tree. It's basically stripped down to just lights. So, with a couple boxes of ornaments nearby, our friend, Hilary, begins decorating for us. And with that we're of to the races for a lovely lovely lovely evening. ☺️

The next morning, Sunday the 22nd, there are a lot of dishes to do. Even though we used festive paper plates and cups, everything else was metal and glass and ceramic and, since our dishwasher doesn't work, there was a lot piling up in there.

So the dishes we did.

Now the dishwasher isn't the only appliance not working. Our clothes dryer also doesn't work. So to launder our clothes, we run 'em through the washer then take it all to the laundromat for drying. 

On this occasion, we have two loads so I throw the first in and we hop in the car for Christmas Eve dinner and Christmas Day dinner shopping.

Turns out, there's a lot of grocery shopping to do and, by the time we get back, time's pretty tight. By the time we run the second load of laundry through an express cycle, it's a about five to eight and the laundromat closes at nine.

It worked out I was all done at the Laundromat coming up on eight thirty which is good because next I've gotta hit Trader Joe's and Dollar Tree, both closing at nine.

With a list in hand, I dash through both stores and hit Fred Meyer coming up on nine to grab vanilla bean cupcakes for either Christmas Eve or Christmas morning.

In 'n out of there in five minutes, I'm on to our Neighborhood Walmart for a ham steak,.then to Safeway up the street for cat food.

Home at nine-thirty.

Walking in the door, I find Kimmer's got her late aunt's Christmas ceramics placed in our family room. She also has most of the garland up, helped by the fact that last year I stuck each one with a note saying exactly where it goes in the house.

We end the night by finishing The Family Man.

Quick tally of what we haven't finished: the Tim Curry Audible version of A Christmas Carol is still dangling in the school room with Scrooge and The Ghost of Christmas Past. Also, the movie that started right on the heels of Last Christmas. It's called Me Before You starring Emilia Clarke which is not a Christmas movie but which we accidently did watch half of 'cause we got hooked.

The next morning is my birthday morning which I start by feeding the cats at 7 and making coffee to start Kimmer's day. At which point I go back to sleep until 10. 

That was a WHOPPER of a gift, by the way. Sleeping in on a school day without any responsibilities in front of me. 😉

My ten o'clock breakfast is home made eggs, bacon, croissants, and hot chocolate at our dining room table on which my birthday presents are also attached: two birthday bags and one gift that's wrapped. Call it the Morning Specialty: breakfast & birthday presents. ☺️

I actually finish my breakfast before starting in on the gift. That would've been unheard of in my kid years. A bit like putting a treat on your dog's nose and expecting it not to eat it unless commanded to.

Yeah.

I would've failed that test once upon a time.

My presents, by the way, were a black Harry Potter Mischief Managed t-shirt, a green fleece pull-over, and part of a wooden film display for my edit suite.

After that?

Yup. It's relaxing time. 😁

Around two-thirty we head out into the world. First stop, Cheeky & Dry on Phinney Ridge for a bit of holiday shopping for non-alcoholic drinks. We end up a half hour there chatting up the owner and fellow shoppers 'cause it's Christmastime and everyone's chatty. Then we're at GoodWill down the hill because we always land at a GoodWill on our birthdays 'cause you never know what you're gonna find and, worst case, I love taking pictures of their holiday displays.

By quarter of five we're parked in front of Pub70 on the Seattle waterfront intending to check out the Christmas Bar at the Edgewater Inn. Unfortunately for us, the Christmas Bar was only a thing from the previous Tuesday to basically the night before. So we're sitting there at a couch table in front of the fire in a darkened room filled with the after work crowd. Which is our cue to head back to the bar at Pub70 where there's a more Christmassy vibe and it's simply more relaxed.

And so we spend the next hour and a half enjoying our meals, drinks, and this lovely nighttime holiday experience on the waterfront.

By six-thirty, we're on the road again, stopped in at the Interbay Whole Foods for their fancy soap 'cause one of us happened to mention it during dinner and we both realized we could grab one in our way into Ballard.

At 7 we're in Ballard. Just barely. The Trader Joe's where we're picking up a Trader Joe's gift card gift.

Quarter tonight we're meeting up with Linzy at her new place at which we get a half-hour or so of personal tour before we all head north. Back to the house.

Linzy manages to beat us there and is waiting in our driveway when we pull up.

Inside, Kimmer show off her childhood wooden dollhouse on which she's been working again for a month or so after pulling it out of our garage and onto a storage ottoman that now serves as a work table. She goes room by room (illuminated by tiny interior lights) in  a kind of interactive show 'n tell.

Linzy was fascinated. ☺️

Unbeknownst to us, earlier in the day, Linzy had been at See's Candies at Alderwood Mall shortly after it opened. It was packed. 

It's also where she scored my birthday present that she now hands over to me. ❤️❤️❤️

The plan for the night was to watch a Christmas movie together. Either The Man Who Invented Christmas or A Christmas Story. With that in mind, I move our flat screen onto the piano bench and our DVD player into the piano. In the meantime, though, there's a problem with an internal door lock at the new place, the one we just toured. It's a problem because the front door provides access to a lobby. The internal door provides access to everything else.

So yeah. A problem that has to be addressed because it's the holidays, nearly Christmas Eve, and is there even anyone who can come out and get that door open?

Turns out, yes.

So 930 I follow Linzy back down to the new place where we meet up with an Eastern European jack of all trades sent over by an agency. Didn't catch his name but he had a most excellent professional manner and before long had the door open without a scratch.

Afterwards, he was off to his next call as Linzy 'n I hung out for a bit.

She was very apologetic about the plot twist in my birthday but, the way I figure it, we got out of the experience a story to tell and some father/daughter hang time.

A pretty great deal, I'm thinking.

We call it a night ten minutes before eleven. When I get home, Kimmer 'n I start watching The Santa Clause 2... and conk out by the blind date.

☺️

Next morning we're up at 730 and it.

Is.

Christmas Eve.

Christmas Eve day.

Got things to do, of course. Relaxing's first then we head out around ten-thirty with a list of Christmas presents for friends. We grab a wicker basket or two at Value Village, couple gift cards along with croissants and other breakfast-y items, and then Grocery Outlet for one final gift card. Then, back to the ranch.

What we're waiting on now is the green flag from my dad. You see, Linzy 'n I are going over to my mom 'n dad's place around one...

Only I'm talking to my dad on the phone at twelve-thirty when he tells me he's gotta hit the grocery stores starting at one. So he's gonna call me when he's done. Probably around three.

Rolling the dice a little, I hit the road again around quarter past two hoping everything's time out.

Everything?

Sure. I've got Linzy's sound gear I've gotta load into the car to return to her. I've gotta get gas. And I've gotta stop by the Dollar Tree.

It's actually while I'm at the Dollar Tree that my dad calls to give me the go ahead so I head down to Linzy's place, drop of the gear, she gets in my car and we roll over to my parent's place where we spend a lovely time sharing this little piece of the holidays.

By the time I drop linzy back at her place, it's around 630. I'm gonna continue north to home. She's gonna follow along after gathering up the food she's bringing tonight.

By 'n by, I'm home when Linzy shows up with her food and her boyfriend's dog, Teddy. And since Teddy's gotta go for a walk anyway, we all go for a walk, taking in the neighborhood lights and displays, enjoying each other's company, and unanimously agreeing that Teddy is a good dog.

Now the plan we have is something like we all leave around nine: Linzy and Teddy back to her place, Kimmer 'n I to St. Mark's for their Christmas concert and midnight service. So we'll have dinner together then watch as much of the film The Man Who Invented Christmas as we can 'til it's time to go.

That was the plan, anyway.

So what happened?

Well, what happened is that we were having the loveliest time together. Plus, it's a most excellent movie Linzy'd never seen before and she.

was.

hooked.

We blew through nine pm all the way through to the end of the movie.

Linzy 'n Teddy weren't out of the house until eleven.

Needless to say a good time was had by all.

The only thing that didn't happen?

None of our presents to each other got wrapped. And we were in no mood to stay up late to wrap them.

So off to sleep we went. Sugarplums and all that.

Christmas morning we're up at 730 not at all roaring to start the day. So instead we laze about bed until it's time to join Linzy for our Christmas Day movie.

Christmas Day movie?

Yeah. The Christmas classic, Elf, string Wil Farrell and playing at then Alderwood 16 at 11:30. With self-buttered popcorn.

You'd think a movie we'd seen a billion times wouldn't be that big a deal one more time. It's just that none of us had seen it on the big screen. Because of that, we spent the next hour-and-a-half pointing at different places on the big screen, details we missed all these years.

It was a surprising time at the movie theater. It was a lot of fun. And it was also a straight up Christmas gem which not all movies that screen on Christmas Day are.

Twenty after one, Linzy heads back to her place to get ready for Christmas dinner at our place. We head back to our place to do the same. About three-ish, Linzy shows up with a selection of cheeses, a selection of crackers, and a selection of meats (,including prosciutto)... so we socialize over these delightful appetizers. After that, we do a round of present opening with her. A touch of family time, if you will.

Around four, Kimmer starts wondering if Safeway's still open. Turns out they are... so I find myself there, a half-hour to go 'til closing, the employee at the door tells me. And if I didn't get the message, the store's reminded through public address every.

five.

minutes.

At 630 back at home, Rachel and Chris show up beating food for our Christmas potluck... and gifts for us. So we dona second round of gifts before moving on to dinner before moving on to party games with Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown! and Santa Claus Is Comin' To Town playing on our flat screen in the background, the sound muted.

In the end, it was wonderful family time. Fellowship. Laughter. Meaning. It really was emotionally a full day by the time Linzy left around 830 and Rachel 'n Chris left at 930.

By the way, we still hadn't wrapped our presents for each other yet and we weren't going to. 

You see, we decided to let the peace and relaxation vibes continue to flow as we had Christmas Eve.

Which is how, for the first time in our marriage, we didn't open Christmas presents, the ones we meant for each other, on Christmas Day.

Wait. I take that back. We didn't open the presents we usually open on Christmas Day. That much is true. I did, however, manage to fill Kinmer's stocking as well as ready her Christmas Eve gift. It's a tradition we picked up from other families that open presents on Christmas Eve. Only we determined to exchange just one over the years.

So yeah.

Kimmer got her first gift Christmas Eve. 

And then nothing from me at all on Christmas Day.

Our revised plan was now to have our Christmas morning on the evening of Boxing Day, December 26. Which is what we did.

I think we started wrapping presents around five while Kimmer also got dinner up 'n running. Then around six-fifteen we had dinner by the light of our Christmas tree. Then around seven I pulled up a Manheim Steamroller Christmas playlist and we spent the next two hours opening our gifts to each other. I won't lie, there was a touch of the old days of Christmas to our evening. I suppose the musical trip back down memory lane had something to do with it. Also, I imagine, there's just something different when it's just the two of us like it was back in the early days at our condo in Lake City.

It really was a peaceful Christmas.

It was relaxing. It was a meaningful Christmas.

Interestingly, though...

That's not the last we've seen of Christmas this year.

In the end, this year we'll have celebrated Christmas four times. Once with our friends on Saturday the 21st. A second time with Linzy and Rachel and Chris on Christmas Day. A third time with each other on the day after Christmas. And, before this year runs out, with family in Irvine.

In the past, across different holidays and events, we've seen benefits of stretching those experiences beyond a single day. And for us, this year, we discovered how much more of the Christmas spirit can be had when you intentionally choose friendship, peace, and relaxation.

After all, what's actually possible if we're not prepared, if we're not re- energized by such things as belong to Christmas?

[1kook]

netflix & chill

summary If you planned things right, you could rain down your raging displeasure on Jeon Jungkook right after the meal but before this proposed ‘Netflix and chilling,’ maybe dramatically throw your glass of wine at him, before storming out of his place and reporting him to the authorities (Namjoon) for his douchebag personality. warnings grinding, 2 seconds of sub kook, oral (f), cum eating, vanilla but [ passionate ], unprotected sex, dirty talk tags use of the oldest trick in the book (“your hands are sooo big”), shy oblivious AND gentleman jk? pick a struggle, brief ment of app developer kook, evil and conniving oc wc 10.2k !! wow!!

will I ever write a serious jk fic? NO. this entire thing was based off this pic of jungkook which i’ve said before that i would print out in sepia filter and crumple and stuff in a drawer n then tell my kids 35 years from now was a long lost lover i met on a cruise to the bahamas and never saw again ty to mia more @daechwlta​ for being there during my brief crisis over this fic 🥺

When Namjoon had first not so subtly mentioned the idea of setting you up on a date, it was with a faux air of disinterest that you had masterfully pried the details out of him. Namjoon has a friend, he said, a friend who was kinda sorta attached to his hip. And while Namjoon loved the kid, he also thought this friend could use some social interaction outside of Namjoon.

Now you and Namjoon weren’t exactly the most conventional of friends for him to be proposing blind dates to you at whim. He was your senior at school, your mentor in your scholarship program, an educated man studying for his masters. So when he’d first uttered the words you were immediately on the fence. Sure, the two of you knew each other well and probably got along better than most mentor-mentee pairings among your year, but you doubt Namjoon knew enough of your tastes to offer you up for a blind date.

According to Namjoon, his friend was a kid in the same year as you, making him not so much as a kid as he was your classmate. You brushed it off at first, spewing some bullshit excuse that you’d rather focus on your studies, and how dating was a distraction to your education, as if you hadn’t spent the weekend prior binge watching some Spanish novella while you dutifully ignored your essay.

The second time Namjoon mentions it you agree on the spot. Life on campus could only be interesting for so long, so you might as well make the best of it and go on as many stupid dates as possible.

Namjoon is over the moon.

He tells you he’ll pass your phone number on over to that friend of his—“Jeon Jungkook”—and promises you you won’t regret this because his friend was amazing, really. And for Namjoon to sing his praises for just any underclassmen was unheard of. In fact, besides you, you don’t think Namjoon knows many other students younger than him, and if he did, you hardly doubt he would regard them so highly.

So he gives his friend your number, and so ends your weekly meeting with your mentor. You only realize on the walk back to your dorm that you forgot to ask him about some club at school, the whole goal of this week’s meeting, but by then you don’t really care, the whole conversation fading into the background.

In fact, you forget about the whole ordeal until Friday night rolls around and you’re once again, binge watching another novella on your laptop, when your phone suddenly vibrates.

You were by no means a loser at school, a friendless nobody, but you were also not the outgoing, school-spirited student on the front page of your school’s website, and thus had nearly every app that could produce a notification on your phone muted, every text thread silenced. The only notifications and messages you allowed were from your email and from your roommate, and considering the fact Doyeon was face down in a puddle of her own mid-semester tears right across from you, it was probably your email.

Much to your surprises, it isn’t that “Monday’s Class is CANCELLED” email you were hoping for, but instead some unknown number in a text notification. You roll your eyes, click it open thinking it’s a reminder from some store or from some guy claiming to be from your bank, only to pause at the words written inside the little grey bubble.

hey its jungkook!!! joon gave me your number to I guess ask you on a date soo are you free tmrw night??

The excessive punctuation reminds you a little bit of your kid sister back home and the dorky emails she’ll send you from time to time. It’s with that memory and a smile on your face, that you’re suddenly reminded of what exactly this message is saying. “Oh shit,” you mumble, moving to sit up and reread the text. Doyeon complaining loudly in the background has you reading it twice more before you understand it, and by then there’s a fluttery feeling in your chest.

You were by no means easily swayed by people, but this guy had received praise from Kim Namjoon of all people, so he definitely had some prestige to his name. He doesn’t seem overbearing from this one text he’d sent, but he also didn’t seem completely disinterested.  

You try to match his nonchalant energy, letting him know you were in fact free and down to meet him, just to let you know more details.

You won’t lie, there’s a giddy feeling bubbling within you at the prospect of getting all dolled up, hitting the town, pawning a free meal off some unsuspecting college soul, and maybe even hitting it off. It’s been a while since you’ve dated, sue you.

Jeon Jungkook’s response crushes those dreams as well as hurdles you straight into a nightmare.

cool!! was thinking i could cook for us at my place, drink a little wine, maybe Netflix and chill a little bit??

You are blown away by the absolute gall of this man, to butter you up by painting a pretty picture only to reduce you to a mere booty call. The fact he had felt confident enough to say all that within the same sentence blows your mind.

Did this Jeon Jungkook, who you had no idea of what he looked like, who had no idea of what you looked like, seriously just invite you over for some quote unquote Netflix and chill?

Who, in the ever living hell, was this guy who so sleazily invited women over to fuck with no qualms about who they were?

You’re offended that Namjoon would set you up like this, pawn you off to such a greasy friend. But then again, you guess not everyone knows their friends thoroughly, because this Jeon Jungkook flirtatiously inviting your over for some sex sounds nothing like the golden boy Kim Namjoon had raved about earlier this week. You click your phone off, tapping the device against your lips as you ponder how to best rip this jerk to shreds via text.

It’s amidst Doyeon cursing out her statistics teacher that an idea hits you.

Tomorrow was Saturday night, and as far as you knew, you really didn’t have anything else going on for you anyway. You’d take Jeon Jungkook’s offer, let him cook you a free meal and drink some of his wine. He mentioned having his own place, and vaguely you remember Namjoon saying he lived alone, hence his introverted tendencies, so you could slip in and out without doing that walk of shame through a boy’s dorm hall.

Not that there would be anything to feel shameful about. In fact, if you planned things right, you could rain down your raging displeasure on Jeon Jungkook right after the meal but before this proposed ‘Netflix and chilling,’ maybe dramatically throw your glass of wine at him, before storming out of his place and reporting him to the authorities (Namjoon) for his douchebag personality.

Ha! That would certainly teach the asshole not to use his poor, unsuspecting friends to reel in nice girls like you into one night stands.

You could practically feel the devil horns begging to poke out of your skull, the forked tail wiggling behind you, as you click your phone back on and text Jeon Jungkook a great!! what’s your address :)

——

Saturday morning and afternoon are as boring as they usually are. You do a little homework, and spend thirty minutes filling Doyeon in on your master plan, which she eats up and even gives you some pointers—“and then you can be like, ‘you sick freak, as if I’d let you near this 5-star, Michelin reviewed, Gordon Ramsey approved coochie’ and throw the whole plate at his head!”—before getting ready for your little date at Jeon Jungkook’s.

You try hard to look good, harder than you would have if he hadn’t offended you by reducing you to a booty call, and Doyeon helps. She does your eyebrows all nice and natural, dusts the thinnest shin of liquid highlighter across the high points of your face, the whole shebang until you’re looking like a sexy, glowing goddess. You shimmy into a pretty dress, nothing too fancy nor too casual, and even pull on those strappy sandals you’d bought on sale last winter before blowing a kiss to Doyeon and meeting your Uber downstairs.

You don’t quite remember what the reason behind Jeon Jungkook living in such a swanky neighborhood a few minutes from campus was, if it was from a job you vaguely recall Namjoon mentioning, or if it was just purely hereditary, but his place is nice. It’s a connected townhouse, something you’d expect a newly wed couple to live in and not some douchebag third year.

Worse comes to worse, you get banned from this rich neighborhood after humiliating one of its residents in his own home, not that you’d ever make it big enough to live here anyway.

You’d texted Namjoon sometime that morning to let him know you were meeting his friend, an ominous text with an even more ominous smiley face attached to it. But it seems Namjoon is easily blinded by underclassmen he trusts, if Jeon Jungkook’s assholish feats and your own suspicious behavior is anything to go by, because he texts you back a polite have fun! he’s a little shy, so it might take a while for the ball to start rolling hahahaha.

Shy my ass, you think closing the door of your Uber behind you. You double check the address that had been texted to you, walking up to the neat townhouse and knocking against the polished door.

It’s a little chilly, and you hope finding an Uber is easier later tonight when you make your grand escape. It’s between these thoughts that the door swings open, revealing the most handsome man you’ve ever met.

He’s attractive, disgustingly so, with dark hair and light brown tips to contrast, tickling his cheekbones. His dark eyes are round and imploring as they meet yours, gaze almost innocent and doe like as he takes you in. He’s got this soft, blue turtleneck on, and it looks like it should be a seasonal sweater reserved for the holidays but he pulls it off nicely on this premature spring night. His pretty pink lips move, and it takes you a second to realize he’s talking.

“___?” He says, and his voice is deep, yet soft in its own unique way. You nod, like a stupid bobble head, because your throat constricted the moment this beautiful angel opened the door. “It’s cold outside, come in!” He urges you, out stretching his palm to make sure you don’t trip over the slight step up the door as he brings you into his home.

“Hi,” he exhales when you’re finally inside, standing a little too close to you in his small entryway.

“Hi,” you finally choke out, a little dazed by how handsome he is, and the sudden realization that you’re supposed to throw your glass of wine at him tonight because he’s a douchebag dawns on you. You blink yourself out of your stupor, taking a step back and gesturing towards your sandal clad feet.

“Oh!” Jeon Jungkook exclaims at the sudden realization. “I forgot to set out a pair of slippers for you,” he sheepishly admits, before he excuses himself to go get some. There’s a tiny ottoman pushed against the wall, beneath a long mirror, that you take a seat on it, carefully unstrapping your sandals.

All the while, you’re deep in thought.

It makes sense that someone like Jeon Jungkook was so forward in inviting you over for sex during your first interaction. Realistically speaking, the guy had it all. He lived alone in a swanky townhouse in a wealthy neighborhood (you finally remember Namjoon saying he did some app developing for major companies—yeah, still in college but already making it big because he was that good), and looked like the blueprint for the perfect man, someone who’d impress your parents. On top of that, the man was was a 21st century Adonis. You hadn’t missed the flash of ink on his knuckles, or the way his jeans had hugged his legs.

He’s making his way back now, inspecting the slippers in his hands, and you don’t miss the way the jeans are pulled taut around his thighs in particular.

Yeah, he definitely knew his way around a woman’s body, there was no way he couldn’t have.

You slip your feet into the slippers he places before you, wiggling your toes around, before glancing back at Jungkook. He smiles warmly, a little beauty mark beneath his lip making itself known. He takes your hand, pulls you up onto your feet, and begins guiding you down the hall and to what you assume is the kitchen.

“I didn’t know what you liked, and I figured asking you three hours before you came over would be too awkward,” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. He glances at you again, and upon seeing your inquisitive stare, quickly turns away with flushed cheeks.

Oh this man knew the game, and he knew it well.

Jeon Jungkook still thinks he can play that cute campus boy being set up by his senior card now, after he’d shown you his true colors last night via text. But he has a big storm coming. As much as you could admit he was good to look at, you would not be fooled by some pretty face and tasty food. No, you came here with one goal and one goal only, and that was to give Jeon Jungkook a piece of his own two-faced medicine before running off to tattle to Namjoon.

You reach the kitchen and the heavenly smell of Alfredo sauce swarms your nostrils. “I… I’m still new to cooking, so I hope you don’t mind some Alfredo pasta,” he admits, shy smile adorning his features as he avoids your gaze once again to toy with the dish towel by the sink.

You creep closer to the counter, where two meticulously presented ceramic plates sit beside a wine bottle, and the glands in your mouth suddenly go into overdrive in their rush to make you salivate, and you choke out an overly eager, “it looks amazing!” before you know it.

Okay, you came here with two goals.

——

Jungkook carries the two bowls in his big hands to the dining room beside the kitchen, and you follow behind with the bottle of wine and two glasses as you set the table together. The utensils are already there, but Jungkook runs back into the kitchen anyway to return with some fancy cloth napkins for the two of you.

Just as you're tugging a chair out to sit, Jungkook beats you to it. “Ah, let me,” he smiles, and your heart thunders nervously in your chest as you return the expression, brushing your hands beneath you before sitting down and letting him push you in. Jungkook takes his own seat in front of you, and before you can dig in he calls out to seemingly nobody, “Alexa, dim the dining room lights.”

The overhead lights dim, and with their overbearing glow gone, you can finally appreciate the battery powered candles snuggled neatly into a little bowl on the table between you two. You ooh appreciatively, and Jungkook looks proud of himself.

Then, he says, “Alexa, play…Date Night Playlist.”

You blink, and a soft piano tune begins filtering through a speaker he’s hidden somewhere in the room. Even with the fake candles being your main source of light, the flush on Jungkook’s cheeks is evident as he gestures towards you to eat.

You won’t lie. Jeon Jungkook was extremely endearing.

This much becomes evident the further you get into the meal. As small talk devolves into full fledged conversations and story telling, his shy demeanor slipping away but still sticking to the edges of his personality, you begin to have a more difficult time connecting this Jungkook to the one who had less than 24 hours ago asked you to come over and “Netflix and chill” with him.

But the more you speak, the more distant that image begins to feel. For one, Jungkook does put on a fairly reserved aura for you, telling you about his job but refusing to brag about it even when you egg him on. He has no qualms gassing up his friends, Namjoon in particular, who Jungkook claims is his role model for some unknown reason, given the fact they are neither in the same major nor in any of the same clubs. They’re friends, point blank period, but Namjoon is very obviously a star in Jungkook’s eyes.

Additionally, he’s quite embarrassed to admit why Namjoon had been so set on getting Jungkook to date, but eventually tells you it’s because Jungkook’s last girlfriend had been during your freshman year—two whole years ago! It makes you wonder what he’d been doing since then, if he’d used the time to fully invest in his work or if he’d been mingling around, unbeknownst to his friends, which would explain the flirtatious offer that landed you here.

Still, a part of you refuses to believe last night’s Jungkook and tonight’s Jungkook were one in the same, and if they were, what had made this shy man so unabashedly invite you over for some sex. Was this act all a ploy? Or maybe, was he purposefully trying to ward you away by coming off as a gentleman now that he’d seen your face and wasn’t interested in you anymore?

Apparently it’s neither of the two, and you don’t realize this until you finish your meal and make your way into his living room to finally get down to the long awaited Netflix and chilling. It’s only when you sit down on the couch, smack dab in the middle, because at this point, you’re not gonna throw your wine at Jeon Jungkook like you planned, he was too nice. And if this niceness was an act to get in your panties, you didn’t care at this point. He was hot, achingly so, and at least you’d get a good fuck out of it.

But as you said, apparently not. Because Jeon Jungkook sees you purposefully take up the entire middle of the couch, sultry eyes staring him down, and decides to sit flush against the armrest, somehow leaving a good foot between the two of you, despite the fact you’re sitting next to each other.

Your brain can’t work fast enough to comprehend the situation, before he’s asking you what you want to watch. “Um,” you say, pointedly staring at him and not the screen. “Tr-Transformers?”

The way Jungkook’s eyes light up is insane, already round eyes nearly popping out of their sockets as he eagerly rushes to select it from whatever streaming service he has, probably not even Netflix, all the while chattering on about how much he loves that series, and is so glad you do too.

The whole time, you’re struck by the oddness of his casual tone, the way he’s overly invested in the 20th Century Fox opening, and how he’s very carefully avoiding intruding in on your personal space.

The last point in particular has you wanting to pull your hair out, because you want Jeon Jungkook intruding in on your personal space. You want him pressed so tightly against you you can’t breathe, you can’t move, until you’re drowning in him as he finally lives up to his promise of some Netflix and chill, because you want him, and you want him so. very. bad.

“Oh, I forgot the popcorn!” Jungkook exclaims, and you jump at the sudden volume of his voice, because he’d been pretty silent as he avidly watched the first few minutes of the movie. “Sorry,” he chuckles, and his leg brushes against yours as he shuffles between you and the coffee table on his way out. You vaguely hear the popping of the popcorn in the kitchen, but you’re too distracted by your suddenly overwhelming thoughts.

Okay, one thing was for sure, and that was that Jeon Jungkook definitely had no fucking idea what the phrase Netflix and chill meant, because the way he’d zeroed in on the movie and the popcorn, and not you, was unheard of on such invitations. You deduce he probably heard it somewhere, and, now understanding the true nature of Jungkook’s sweet and shy personality, made no such perverted connection to the phrase.

Which meant he most definitely did not demean you to a mere booty call, like you’d deluded yourself into believing, someone he could hump and dump with no regrets, before calling Namjoon up to thank him. Which meant he’d had no ulterior motives in meeting you tonight, just planning to get to know you at the suggestion of his friend, and had—unbeknownst to him—successfully wooed you thus far.

Which was great! If you turned a blind eye to the evil, conniving plans you’d made without even meeting the guy, and the subsequent flood of self-inflicted disapproval when you realized Jeon Jungkook was a sweetheart who definitely did not deserve having a glass of wine thrown at his face after making you a home cooked meal and giving you the full Olive Garden experience, with his dimmed lights and candlelit dinner and piano music on the background.

Yeah. Perfectly fine.

The only problem now was that you had become so dangerously smitten with the man that you wanted to sleep with him. You wanted that Netflix and chill, needed it like it was the last slot in a daycare class and you were a soccer mom of five wanting to get at least one kid out of the house for the summer for the sake of her own sanity. You were desperate.

No, you scold yourself. This was fine, this was good, this was perfectly okay. If anything, this just further made you enamored with Jungkook, because it proved how gentlemanly he was by not trying to sleep with you on the first date.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to, the devil on your shoulder crooned.

The microwave in the kitchen stops, and you hear the sound of cabinets opening as Jungkook pours the popcorn into a bowl. On screen, the main character is meeting a bunch of giant cars-turned-robots, you don’t fucking know.

But the devil was right.

Jungkook hadn’t offered to sleep with you, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. Furthermore, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be seduced into wanting to, your evil brain suggested, and the hope that had slithered it’s way into your chest from the very moment Jungkook had opened the door, took that fact and ran with it.

“What’d I miss?” Jungkook says when he returns, popcorn bowl in hand.

“Oh, um, he was with the car,” you offer, trying to stop the nefarious smirk from slipping onto your features. Jungkook laughs, cute and airy as he shuffles past you.

He’s too absorbed in the screen, not looking as he sits down, closer than last time until his thigh brushes yours and he jerks back in embarrassment. “Oh, sorry,” he flounders, goes to move away but you act fast.

You grab onto his upper arm with both of yours like an octopus, keeping him flush to you as you gaze up at him with wide eyes. “No, it’s okay,” you rush to assure him, loosening your hold as he tentatively relaxes beside you. You glance down at the popcorn bowl in his hand, swiping a piece to pop between your lips. “It’s easier for us this way,” you say, and you’re pulling that straight out of your ass, because you hate popcorn and have literally zero desire for it and wouldn’t have reached for it anyway if you weren’t trying to convince him this was all for popcorn sharing purposes.

Jungkook’s eyes briefly flicker down to where you’re munching on that popcorn, your lips, before he’s quickly averting his gaze. “Ah, y-yeah,” he agrees, and though he tries to relax back into the couch, you can still feel the tension of his muscles as he settles beside you.

With his eyes no longer trained on you, you snuggle closer into his side resting your cheek against the soft material covering his shoulder, finally letting that devious smirk slip onto your face. You keep yourself close to Jungkook, loving the way his warmth permeates the thick sweater he’s wearing, even if he’s still overly into the movie. You know he’s seen it before, because he keeps telling you random tidbits like, “they use this in the next movie!” Or “he ends up becoming really important in the sixth movie,” and you want to listen to this endearing nerd’s commentary, you really do, but once your brain is stuck on horny, it is stuck on horny.

He doesn’t even eat a lot of popcorn, setting it down not ten minutes later onto the coffee table. You release him as he moves forward, but quickly latch onto him again when he sits back down.

Much to your surprise, Jungkook is way more relaxed then, shrugging you off to rest his hand on the couch behind you, and you inwardly squeal at the prospect of getting to cuddle up to his body, and not just his arm. You cuddle in close to him, leaving your slippers on the ground as you tuck your legs up onto the couch cushions.

Jungkook is so warm and firm, and you know it’s your horny brain speaking, but you swear you feel a tight set of abs underneath the palm you rest on his stomach, and you give an experimental brush over the area. His heart picks up, you hear it by where your head is leaning against his chest, and you tilt your head up to give him a curious glance. His cheeks are red, and he doesn’t look at you even though you know he sees you, so you decide to kick things up a notch.

You sigh loudly, peeling yourself away from him to properly level him with a pout. “Jungkook, aren’t you hot in this?” You ask, pinching the wooly material between two fingers and pulling it from his skin. Jungkook finally looks away from the screen, nibbling his lower lip as he takes in your quizzical expression.

“Um, only a little… but it’s fine!” He rushes to say, and you recall from your conversations over dinner that Jungkook doesn’t much like people fussing over him, so you quickly change gears.

You press a hand against your cheek, the same one that had been resting against his shoulder earlier. “Oh, well… it’s really itchy,” you announce, and his eyes widen, one hand absentmindedly reaching to clutch the material at his chest. “It’s making me really itchy,” you emphasize, and part of you feels bad for taking advantage of his caring nature, but this is all for the greater good, you convince yourself. “Do you mind taking it off?”

“I, uh, yeah,” he agrees, reaching for the hem of his sweater before carefully peeling it off. When he pulls it over his head, you can’t help the triumphant grin that overtakes your face, though you quickly mask it when he finally frees himself from the material. “Better?” He says once he’s clad in only a plain black shirt.

“Mm, much,” you sigh, and nearly soak your panties then and there when a tattooed sleeve comes into view. “Woah!” You exclaim, snatching his wrists up to examine his skin. “What’s this?” You marvel, tracing every inch of delicious skin with your predatory gaze. Jungkook huffs out a laugh, and you glance up to watch as he rubs the back of his neck in that same embarrassed way he’d done multiple times throughout your night together.

“My tattoos,” he says, and then seems to realize the simplicity of his statement and rushes to add to it, “I hope you don’t mind?”

You hum, shifting onto your knees to face him as you continue tracing over a huge tiger lily by his forearm. “Why would I? It’s your body,” you say, and watch the nervous glance melt off his face as he regards you with something new. Something akin to wonder as he lets you trace over more of his ink, nodding along to your words.

“Yeah… yeah!” He agrees, and you grin at his sudden zeal. He chuckles, physically relaxing beneath your touch, and it’s probably the most relaxed he’s been all night as you continue rubbing your hands over every tattoo on his skin, and then purposefully focusing on the ones near his bicep. “Sorry, ‘m just used to people pushing off their own opinions about them onto me,” he explains, and for a moment, the horniness that had been fueling you all night fades away, and you let your hands trail down, past his wrist, until you’re sandwiching his hand between yours.

“Fuck what anyone else thinks,” you tell him, eyes hard as you imagine anyone imposing their stupid thoughts on Jungkook, who was too good for this world. “If you think they’re cool, then they're the coolest thing in the world.”

He smiles at you, and you’ve seen this smile about a million times tonight—when you first came in, when you talked about yourself at dinner, when you mentioned this stupid movie—but it has something swelling in your chest. Something too intimate for a first date, so you quickly move to repress it.

Glancing down at his hand in yours, littered with smaller tattoos across his knuckles, your brain whirls into action. Bringing it up between the two of you, you turn his hand over to line your palms up. “Wow, your hands are so big,” you sigh, slowly reverting back to dirty thoughts as you twist yours and Jungkook’s hands this way and that. He snorts, bends the tips of his fingers over yours just to hear you ooooh again.

“Yeah, they’re pretty big,” he agrees, completely ignoring the film playing on the screen, which is a huge win in your eyes considering how deeply he’d been watching it earlier.

Finally, you see an opening and pounce.

“Well, that means something else is pretty big too,” you murmur, chancing a glance up at his face. His face is the perfect definition of composed, and you can tell when exactly he processes your words because those little pink lips part in surprise, red slowly filling the apples of his cheeks. You let go of his palm, letting it slide between your fingers until it falls limp beside him.

Jungkook watches you with wide eyes, as you raise yourself up onto your knees. “Jungkook?” You mumble, giving him no warning before you’re throwing a leg across his lap, knees pressed into the couch on either side of his thighs.

“Y-Yes?” He stutters, brown hair falling away from his face as he stares up at you. You flash him a sweet smile, and you can tell it relaxes him because his fists unclench beside him.

“You’re a really nice boy,” you sigh, and when you’ve scooted your knees a little closer to his ridiculously thin waist, you finally let yourself sit. You find yourself right before his crotch, which he desperately tries to hide as he shifts around, but can’t with you on top of him. You let your hands flutter to rest at his shoulders, and he gulps. “You’re so sweet and cute,” you add, relish in the flush that climbs up to his ears. “But I’m a little sad you invited me over to Netflix and chill, but won’t do just that,” you pout, a finger tangling itself in a soft strand at the back of his head.

“Huh?” He stutters, eyes nearly bulging out when you wiggle around again. “I-I’m sorry?” He huffs, and when you move too close to his crotch, where his jeans are slowly growing more and more strained, he panics and reaches a hand out to steady your waist.

You feign confusion, flashing him another pout as you duck closer until your noses bump against each other. “You know what it means, don’t you, Jungkook?” You inquire, eyes falling dangerously lidded as you swallow up every inch of his appearances.

He stutters, hands moving up and down as if he doesn’t know where to put them anymore. But you know exactly where Jungkook can put those hands, and you waste no time catching his wrists in your hands to guide him towards your hips. “No?” He breathes, fingers flexing against you, and you smile sweetly at him.

“It means,” you purr, shifting forward until you’re flush against where you need him most. You can barely contain the whimper that climbs out of your throat when you finally feel the rough material of his jeans against your panties. “It means you wanna fuck, Jungkook,” you exhale, tossing your head back as your body basks in the slight reprieve, the way Jungkook squirms beneath you aiding greatly in providing that sensation you craved.

“It’s nothing more than an excuse,” you huff, placing a hand on the back of his neck to steady yourself. At your touch, Jungkook jolts, thighs jumping beneath you and you stifle another groan when the zipper of his jeans prods against your core. “For you to fuck my brains out while some s-stupid movie plays in the background.”

You’re not sure when, but sometime during that last explanation your hands had fully delved into the thick tresses of Jungkook’s hair. You give an experimental tug, and poor Jungkook, so lost in all that you’re telling him, lolls his head back for you easily until the long expanse of his neck is available, soft creamy skin yours for the taking.

You pounce, kissing the skin gently at first, before sprinkling in a handful of nibbles. He’s sensitive, devastatingly so, as he gasps at a particular suck. You suction your lips on the spot below his ear, carefully biting down on the skin as he unravels beneath you. “Will you do it, Jungkookie?” You murmur against the shell of his ear,

He nods eagerly, and his fingers hurt where he’s pressed them deep into your waist, like he’s trying to brand you as his with his mere strength alone. “Y-Yes,” he exhales, hips jerking when you swipe your tongue over the pretty mark you’d left on his perfect skin.

You smother your smirk against his neck, grinding down on him once again. “Yes what?” You tease, and let his strong hands roll you against him afterwards.

“Yes, I-I’ll…” he stumbles, eyes dazed as he watches you through hooded lids. You raise a brow at him, shifting in his lap. It’s enough to kickstart him back up, and he’s biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. “I’ll fuck you, I’ll fuck you just like you want,” he rambles. He surprises you when he begins rutting up against you, so animalistic and uncontrolled, nothing like the sweet Jungkook that had indulged you over dinner. “I’ll make you come, p-promise,” he rasps.

You smirk down at him, hoping he doesn’t see the metaphorical horns sticking out of your head the further he falls into your trap. Before he can say anything else, you surge forward, slotting your mouths together for the first time that night.

It’s no surprise that Jungkook kisses just like he speaks, carefully like he’s afraid one hard press of his lips will ward you off. His lips are smooth, a fact you’d hyper-fixated on all night as he spoke, but before you can ponder on that any further, something hot and wet is prodding at your lower lip.

The gasp you barely manage to contain ends up escaping anyway when Jungkook’s hand comes up to cup the side of your face, tilting your head to the side as his tongue slithers into your mouth. You become obsessed with the way he touches you, every bit the gentlemen he’d been all night, fingers just barely pressing into your cheek like he doesn’t want to mess up your makeup. His other hand, snuggly wrapped around your waist, pulls you tighter against him until your chests are pressed together.

And that tongue. That tongue of his that leaves no room for argument, quickly shutting down any attempts of yours to overtake him. He’s graceful about it too, one nudge enough to convince you he’s got this, he’ll take care of you. You whimper, a sound Jungkook swallows before he’s biting down on your lower lip.

When he pulls away, his lips are red and glossy, and you wonder if yours are too. “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he sighs, gazing at you like he can’t believe you’re there in front of him.

Before you can say anything else, he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck to brush kisses over your skin. “Let me eat you out,” he begs, but his voice is so silky and smooth that it doesn’t sound so much as a plea as much as it does a suggestion. He licks a stripe up your neck, and you jump in his hold.

It’s at this moment where the sudden realization hits you, the feeling of having the reins yanked out of your hands. You so vividly controlled every aspect of Jungkook just a few moments ago, when you’d had your own mouth on his neck, and carefully coaxed him into some sex.

But it seems Jeon Jungkook isn’t as soft or as pliable as you had dubbed him to be, and if the way he’s begun subtly rolling your hips into his crotch is any sign, he certainly wasn’t the submissive type either. Which leaves you wondering, exactly what type of person was Jungkook in bed?

Well, you had all night to figure that out.

“Hey,” he whines suddenly, ripping you out of your thoughts. You glance down at him, registering the bored set of his eyes and the unimpressed quirk of his lips. “Pay attention to me.”

You blink, lips twitching. You can barely muffle the giggle that tears itself from your throat, leaning your forehead on his shoulder as your body shakes at his suddenly childish words. Jungkook chuckles too, as if suddenly realizing how out of place his own statement was. “Sorry,” he smiles, cheeks pleasantly rosy and you can’t even stop yourself from kissing him silly.

Jungkook, bless his heart, let’s you rain down a good three kisses on him before he’s pushing you down on the couch beside him. There’s still a slight gleam in his eyes, but the rest of his face schools itself into a hungry expression as he drinks in your body laid out before him. “Let me eat you out?” He asks again, voice but a soft whisper.

You nod, heart beating loudly in your chest as he shuffles down until he can press a kiss to the tops of your thighs. He hasn’t even done anything that intense yet, but you already feel the muscles in your leg ready to spasm just from his proximity.

He’s mouthing at your skin, nudging your legs apart, and you, usually so confident in your sexuality, can’t find the courage to look at him as he so lovingly carries out his ministrations.

As if sensing your sudden bout of shyness (you! shy! Doyeon was gonna tease you about this for the rest of your life once you recapped this for her), he places a soft kiss just below where the hem of your dress begins, before pulling back and uttering, “this okay?”

You hum in response, face warm from just imagining how good he must look down there, peppering your skin with kisses. Your heart nearly rips itself out of your chest when a strong set of fingers wraps around your wrist suddenly, sliding over and around your hand until he’s tangled them with yours.

At this, you nearly break your neck trying to look at him, only to be met with an amused smile. Jungkook gives your hand a squeeze, and you barely get to appreciate the schoolgirl flood of emotions in your chest, when suddenly his free hand comes out of left field, cupping the back of your knee to push your legs further apart, before gliding across the expanse of your thigh to push your dress up.

If Jungkook holding your hand was enough to make your heart skip a beat, Jungkook pressing a chaste kiss to your panty-clad mound was enough to send you into cardiac arrest. Your leg twitches at the sudden touch, a gasp catching in your throat at the delicate path he kisses over your panties, until he’s flicking his tongue over your clit. “Oh,” you moan, and against your better judgment, your free hand is tangling itself in his silky strands.

Jungkook smirks, what sounds like a tiny chuckle muffled as he continues mouthing along your sex, until your panties are soaked both from your arousal and his saliva. Your little thong stares him in the face, and he groans at the sight, glancing up at you with those wide eyes of his like you’re his entire world. “Can I?”

Jungkook gives your clit one final kiss, before he lets go of your hand, and you can’t help the whine that leaves you upon the lost contact. Jungkook eats it up, pressing a kiss turned smile against your knee as he tugs your underwear down. It coils up as it goes, until he’s pulling a tightly twisted maroon thong off your ankles, and tossing it off somewhere behind him.

If his mouth felt good through your panties, it feels even better without. You mewl when he brushes his lips over your clit, plush lips working your sensitive bundle of nerves, sly tongue occasionally creeping out to toy with you further. “Jungkook,” you cry out, back arching. He licks and slurps likes he’s a starved man, and you're the first meal he’s ever had. You want to sob from how good it feels, his tongue flicking over your bud like he just can’t get enough.

He pulls away to catch your gaze, doesn’t let it go as he runs a lone finger over your slit, coating the digit in your own arousal, before carefully plunging it into your warm, wet heat. “Is this good?” He rasps out, watching your facial expressions carefully as he wiggles his finger deeper into your core, his other hand wrapped around your thigh to keep you still. You moan, feeling like a boneless heap of organs beneath this insanely handsome man who can’t keep his hands off your quivering pussy.

His fingers don’t let up, slowly pulling out before plunging back in. The room fills with disgustingly wet sounds, but that fact drifts to the back of your head the faster his fingers go. Your eyes roll into your head, your body twitching with each press of his fingers.

“Is it good, pretty?” He repeats, and since you’re not looking at him anymore, the sudden lick against your clit has your back arching and your thighs quivering with surprise. “Tell me it’s good, ___,” Jungkook croons, and you nod in a hurry.

“It’s good!” You cry, moaning loudly when he slips another finger into you, scissoring the two inside of you. “It’s so good, Jungkook—y-you’re so good,” you moan, and nearly cry actual tears when he curls his fingers inside of you, pressing down against the most sensitive spot within you.

Jungkook doesn’t let up, continues licking and slurping against your sensitive bud, even when your orgasm hits and you’re begging him to stop. He doesn’t let you go until he feels the warmth coat his fingers, feels the wetness begging to seep out of your plugged pussy. He lets you go then, only to move closer to your hole and replace his fingers with his mouth. There, he carefully catches and collects the cum that trickles out, mouth warm against your trembling body.

Your body quivers with each long drag of his tongue over your sensitive cunt, and you’re about to ask him to stop, when he finally pulls away and pushes himself over you, arms caging you in as he stares down at your withered form. “Kiss,” you manage to gasp out, and Jungkook raises an eyebrow in question. “Kiss me,” you repeat, and then, thoughtfully, “please.”

Jungkook complies, leans down to connect your mouths in a sweet kiss. You’re blinded by the delicacy of it all, that you in no way see coming the sudden substance that slides down your throat from his own. You choke at the sudden intrusion, belatedly realizing it’s your cum he’s pushing down your throat, the cum he didn’t swallow.

“That’s it, pretty,” Jungkook croons, licking up the residual come that hadn’t made it into your mouth. “See how you taste for me. Isn’t it sweet?” He murmurs, pushing his tongue into your mouth as if he regretted not saving any for himself. It’s the first time you’ve had your own pleasure in your mouth, so you’re not exactly sure how to feel. What you do feel is the overwhelming surge of arousal at seeing Jungkook rave about it and lap it up inside your own mouth.

He kisses you for a few moments, mouth moving languidly along yours. One hand reaches down to rub soothingly at your inner thigh, like he’s coaxing the feeling back into your body after lulling you into one of the most heavenly orgasms of your entire life. You whimper when he bites down on your lower lip, like you’re still too sensitive to reciprocate, but Jungkook doesn’t mind. He lets you go, licks over where he’d bitten like an apology.

After a few minutes of just this, of feeling like the most cherished girl in the entire world, Jungkook finally pulls away and levels you with a dashing smile. “All good?” He asks, hands still trailing up your waist until they’re framing the swell of your breasts, where he gently circles your nipple.

You nod, dazedly staring up at him and it’s at this exact moment that you realize there’s something stiff poking at your hip. You glance down, and Jungkook glances down with you, until you’re both staring at the hard on he’s hiding beneath his jeans. Jungkook chuckles, low and dark by your ear as he experimentally presses it against you.

Before you can stop yourself, your hand is untangling itself from around his shoulders and slithering down his front. You cup his erection, his shaky exhale giving you the courage to toy with his belt buckle until it’s undone and you're battling with the button on his jeans instead. You put up a good fight, but in the end the angle is too tight for you to properly undo it, and Jungkook brushes your hands away with a soft kiss to your lips.

He pushes himself off you, and you’re immediately craving the warm press of his body against yours the second he’s gone. “Get that dress off for me, pretty girl,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head, rendering you completely speechless as you gawk at his body. Jungkook glances down at you as he goes to undo his pants, a shapely brow raising in your direction and a soft quirk of his lips gesturing for you to do as you’re told.

You spur into action, wiggling the dress up and over your breasts until you’re pulling it over your head and letting it drop beside you on the floor. You’re just in time to see Jungkook push his jeans down his hips, a classic black Calvin Klein underwear band glaring back at you.

The chance to marvel at Jungkook’s thin waist framed by that tight underwear is gone as quickly as it came, and you’re greeted with an even more mouthwatering sight when he pushes the elastic band down, and that big cock you had alluded to springs out of its confines. You groan, subconsciously rolling your hips into the air as you take in the sight of his cock, mushroom tip swollen and flushed. There’s a thick vein that runs along the underside of it, one you only see when Jungkook grasps his dick in his hand and tugs upward like this isn’t his true form, and he can get bigger.

“Ready?” He asks, biting down on his lip as he continues to stroke himself. You nod, wiggling closer to him until the backs of your thighs rest on top of his, knees knocking against his waist. He grants you one more of those kind smiles, before he’s leaning down to press a hand beside your head, the other lining himself up with your soaked entrance.

Running his cock over your folds one last time, collecting as much of your cum as he can, he brushes a kiss against your cheekbone before he’s pushing in. You moan, throwing your hands around his neck as he pierces through the initial ring of muscle surrounding your warm heat. “Holy shit,” you choke, mouth dropped open as you pant like a dog against his shoulder. “J-Jungkook,” you cry, legs tightening around his waist the closer his body presses against yours.

Once he’s at the hilt, pelvis flush against you, you can’t help the series of whines and mewls that escape your lips from being so comfortably filled to the brim.

To your surprise, Jungkook is the first to speak. “Fuck,” he groans, breath hot against your ear. He sounds fucked out, once silky voice raspy with need as he grinds his hips against you tentatively. “This is what you wanted, isn't it?” He huffs, both hands coming down to wrap around your waist, your back arching under the wonderful hands that find themselves squeezing every inch of your back in an effort to pull you closer.

His mouth brushes against yours from this new position, and Jungkook puckers his lips, tongue coming out to lick at your bottom lip. You nearly cry when he finally pulls his hips away, relieves his cock from your tight heat before surging back in. “Wanted this from the moment you walked in, didn’t you, sweetheart?” Jungkook grunts, repeats the same motion until he’s picked up a steady pace of pushing and pulling, each roll of his hips sending a shock of ecstasy crawling up your spine.

You nod, eyes screwed shut as pleasure warms every inch of your body. It’s even worse to not see, because every sound and every touch is magnified tenfold, until you’re drowning in sensations. Jungkook’s choked groans, the slide of his hips, they all become too much too quickly and you’re choking back a sob.

“Fuck,” he groans, glancing down at your withered form like an animal as he picks up his pace. His hold on you tightens, never letting your body move away from him and he begins jack hammering in his thrusts, swallowing your cries with his lips. “Had me thinking you were a nice girl,” he huffs, and you wonder if he knows how tightly he’s holding you, how this grip will most likely leave you with fingerprint bruises tomorrow morning. But then again, you don’t care. All you care about is Jungkook’s voice and his body, guiding you toward completion. “But all you wanted was a quick fuck.”

You steel yourself to look at him again, and when your eyes finally open and focus, you’re wishing you hadn’t because Jungkook looks so hot over you. His pretty eyes, the ones that had led you into a false sense of comfort throughout the night and tricked you into believing he would be easy to bend to your every whim, are hard now. “Isn’t that right, doll?” He spits, and you whine when he punctuates this question with a particularly brutal thrust of his hips. His balls slap against your ass, and you squirm beneath him as you begin to feel the beginnings of an orgasm build in your core.

“I-I thought—“ you stammer, tone pitched from the way he jostles you with every thrust he gives. “Y-You wanted that,” you weekly defend, canting your hips down in a feeble attempt to progress this along.

He snorts, captures your lips in a rushed kiss where he wastes no time snaking his tongue inside your mouth. His saliva trickles into your mouth, and you whine as he purposefully lets it happen, pulls away just the slightest to pucker his lips and let a thick trail of spit fall straight into your open mouth. Satisfied with his little stunt, he rams his cock against you once more.

“If you wanted a quick fuck,” he says, nearly loses himself in your pussy, “you came to the wrong guy, sweetheart.”

You’re too caught up in the nice drag of his cock against your pussy, the tip of his cock stopping him from ever pulling out completely, that it takes you a second to process his words. “H-Huh?” You choke, teary eyes flickering across his face wildly as if the answer will be right in plain sight.

But all you’re met with is the soft pull of his lips as he flashes you a smirk, pearly white teeth tugging at the pink flesh, as he levels you with a glare of his own. Before you can question him further, he’s letting go of your waist to hike your knees into the crook of his elbows, his pouty lips growing further away as he leans back.

This shift has his cock nudging up, rubbing against the hood of your clit where a bundle of nerves he’d only briefly brushed before sits. You shriek in pleasure, writhing beneath him as the sudden sensation hits you full force. “Jungkook!” You sob, his hips slowing to a grind as he watches your face crumble beneath him.

“You like that?” He murmurs, rutting his hips against you shallowly. The change of pace, the rabid piston of his hips slowing to this, has your body melting into his touch. You barely manage a nod, eyes fluttering open and shut as his hips move sensually against you.

His cock brushes against that sensitive spot with each roll of his hips, and you’re a mewling, puddle of emotion by the third thrust. “Pretty girl,” he hums, letting go of one leg to place a hand above your mound, thumb circling your clit until you’re trembling beneath him. “Did you think I would fuck you and kick you out?” He husks, watching your body like he’s a lion and you’re his prey.

Your brain is far from comprehending anything at this point, reduced to a mere mass of nothingness as he continues moving against you, fingers rubbing your clit in all the right ways.

“Well, you were wrong about that, doll,” he huffs, and you’re blessed with the sight of his head lolling back as he loses himself in the tight grip of your pussy, skin glistening with sweat, trailing from behind his ear and over his neck, until you’re watching a pearl roll over his collarbones. “I don’t do that,” he informs you, and he pinches your clit between two fingers, hard enough that you almost miss his next words as you moan. “No, baby, I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he spits, and you whimper at his words. Finally, he lets go of your knees, right as you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm and you moan out in protest as he ducks down to cage you between his arms again.

“Please,” you beg, voice hoarse as his hips slowly return to their pace from before. He’s still not pulling out as much, keeping his thrusts shallow as he kisses a trail up your neck and over your jaw.

“Gonna fuck you so good, you don’t ever want to leave, pretty,” he says, kisses the corner of your mouth as his hips pick up pace. You wanna cry, feeling so warm and cherished in his arms, his voice telling you how good you’re doing as the coil in your stomach tightens and tightens until you’re begging him for more. “Do you want that?”

“Yes! Yes!” You sob, rolling your hips against his like a madman as you chase your high.

Jungkook hums, smile smushed against your lips as he watches you desperately writhing beneath him. “Yeah? You want that?” You nod, mewls swallowed by his kisses. “Then cum for me, pretty girl.”

You whimper, just as he bucks into you once more, and suddenly you’re falling apart. It starts in your lower back, the ecstasy climbing it’s way through your body until you’re quivering and sobbing in his embrace, muffling your sounds against his shoulder. The muscles in your entire body tighten painfully, until suddenly a wave of contentment washes over you, and you’re too weak to even hold onto him anymore, arms flopping back onto the couch cushions beneath you.

The whole time, Jungkook mutters encouragement against your jaw, keeps his thrusts short but quick, guiding you through your orgasm. When you’re done, he presses an open mouthed kiss beneath your ear, pulling away to look at your boneless frame beneath him.

A few pistons of his hips later, and Jungkook is coming inside of you, cum coating your walls as he hammers his way through his orgasm. He pulls out when he’s done, and you instantly feel your mixed arousal drip out between your thighs.

Woozy from the wine and the two orgasms, you fall asleep soon after.

——

“Good morning,” you murmur, standing at the doorway leading into the kitchen, an area you’d only been able to find after stumbling around the upstairs of the house in confusion.

Jungkook whirls around, wide eyes taking in your appearance. You clutch at the hem of the big t-shirt you’d pulled on, the only article of clothing you saw that was thrown over a chair in a bedroom you didn’t dare snoop around. “Morning,” he exhales, calculating gaze never leaving you as you tiptoe over to him by the counter.

He doesn’t say more, spluttering into action when you peek over his shoulder to see what he’s up to. “What’re you making?” You inquire, and his hands begin fidgeting with the knife.

“Oh, um,” he stutters, and perhaps he’s overly aware of your presence so close beside him, because he suddenly doesn’t remember how he’s supposed to cut an avocado. Cute, you think. “Just, um, toast with avocado spread…”

You hum. After a moment, it seems Jungkook is able to quell his nerves, and he carefully slices the avocado open, spreading its innards across the toast. He hands you the first piece, which you take after masking your own surprise, and soon after he’s turning away from the counter as the two of you eat in silence.

After a few thoughtful munches of bread, you speak. “Thanks for carrying me to bed,” you say, refusing to look at him.

“You’re welcome,” he replies, almost a little too fast and you barely bite down a grin as he rambles on. “Wasn’t gonna leave you on the couch, especially not when you were so tired after… ah, yeah.”

It’s the reserved way he carries himself that gives you the balls to look at him. His ears are flushed adorably red, like when you were at dinner last night talking about his job, and all you wanna do is pinch his cheeks. “Yeah,” you agree, and then add with an air of faux shyness, “you were really cool last night.”

It’s the little devil in you begging to jump out, curious to see how far you can push Jungkook before he shifts into that suave version of himself from last night, and you would feel bad had the corner of his lips not tilted up in amusement.

He chokes out a laugh, mutters a “yeah?” and you don’t stop yourself when you jump into his arms and kiss that avocado spread right off his lips.

——

On Tuesday afternoon, Kim Namjoon is in the midst of delivering another sermon-like speech on the importance of utilizing your student ID when visiting any of the Starbucks within a two mile radius of your school, when you spot a chestnut head of hair from the corner of your eye.

“Sorry, Joon! My ride's here!” You yelp, shoving your notebook into your bag as you stumble over yourself in your haste to leave.

Namjoon blinks. “Huh? I thought you lived on campus?”

You nod, that giddy feeling starting up in your chest as he comes closer to where you and Namjoon have taken up residence on a table in the commons for your weekly meeting, and by the time he reaches the table Namjoon is still in the midst of questioning you.

“Jungkook,” You say, all dreamily and dazed, and you know this because Doyeon caught you with this same exact look on your face after he dropped you off at the dorms Sunday afternoon.

Namjoon startles. “What the f—“

“Hi,” Jungkook beams, leans down to brush a kiss against your cheek, which only serves to make you even more ditzy and dumb in the face of this handsome man. “Oh, hey, hyung.”

“What’re you doi—“

“All set?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring whatever his beloved senior was saying in favor of taking your bag off your shoulders. You nod, have to swallow a giggle down when he takes your hand in his. “Bye, hyung.”

“Bye, Joon!” You barely remember to throw over your shoulder, too busy wrapping yourself around Jungkook’s arm to hear Namjoon blabber in shock. 

“Kids these days,” he huffs.

[ part 2 ; hulu & woohoo ]

[neoheros]

how would haikyuu boys handle falling in love feat. kuroo + akaashi + tsukishima !!

kuroo tetsuro

being in a relationship with him is just a pretty chill experience tbh

i feel like kuroo wouldn’t really date anyone he’s not close to on a comfortable level

people be like: omfg he looks like a player tho

he’s literally not ???? like y’all telling me this man doesn’t look like the idea of having to interact with people he doesn’t know repulses him ? bye

he’s not ignorant, he just isn’t the type to get out there unless necessary yk?

he’s got a good friend group and he’s totally satisfied with that !!!!!!

so when he was 100% sure that he saw you as somebody he’d want to be more than friends with he was just like :0

kuroo at 5:37 am, thinking of that one time you handed him a bottle of water first: oh— oh shit

he doesn’t act on it first though because y’all have been friends for so long and what if you don’t like him back ???

he didn’t wanna ruin the thing he had with you because you were literally the only one who tolerated him sending tiktoks at 4 am in the morning

kuroo: omfg have you seen this one yet

you: bro it’s almost 5 am are you on crack

but eventually he got tired of just staring at you and admiring you from afar and having to make up some excuse when you catch him cause he just really likes looking at you :(

you: bro stop staring at me

kuroo: no, your face bothers me

you: due to personal reasons i will make you pass away ❤️

so one day he just decides to shoot his shot yk?

if you reject him that’s fine, he’ll just have to send numerous tiktoks to wash away the awkwardness afterwards

like he’ll be upset about it because holy crap he flat out adores you at this point but he’s also got a sense of boundaries and will totally respect your decision

BUT !!!! when you told him you liked him too he just 🥺👉👈

this man had the goofiest grin on his face for weeks on end and his heart is all over the place because all the things he imagined in his head to do with you is finally gonna come true !!!

don’t be fooled though !! nothing will change from your friendship !!! you’re still both really chill with each other except now y’all can hug and kiss and !!!!!

kuroo: don’t i look kinda good in this picture though

you: not really, let me take a better one

kuroo: stop taking me out of frame

in retrospect, it’s really fun to be in a relationship like the one you two have because there’s not much things to disagree on and the dynamic you both have just go so well !!!

there’s also not a lot of new things to do or be uncomfortable about because y’all have already done everything as best friends !!!!!!! it’s 🥺

you, seeing kuroo staring at you: what’re you looking at me for

kuroo, unnerved: you’re so pretty

you, caught off guard: it’s my time to pass away now i see 😌

you two joke around a lot but that doesn’t mean you two take whatever you say to heart

somewhere along the line, this made kuroo a bit worried on how you took his intentions though

he knew you were cool with messing with him but sometimes he wonders if what he says ever gets to you

so one night while the two of you are eating frozen yogurt in his car, you in his hoodie and just straight up vibing to the tiktoks that played as background music

he looks up, spoon in his mouth, “you know that i love you, right?”

“you’re so cheesy,” you tell him, laughing while you scroll up to the next video on the fyp

he leans back in his seat, eyeing you under the single yellow light of the car

you, barely looking up from your phone: i love you too though

akaashi keiji

being in a relationship with akaashi is quite literally the most gratifying thing

he’s 97% of your wise decision making and you’re very much thankful for that

when he first met you he honestly didn’t know what to think

his first impression of you? an indecisive impulsive mess

his second impression of you? a very cute indecisive impulsive mess

there’s not a single doubt that he was crushing on you H A R D

he doesn’t pay attention to it though because he knew how crushes often worked and most of the time they didn’t really work out

but the more he looked at you or stared at you from afar with a silly grin that he doesn’t even realize, everyone around him notices just how silent you make him

leave it up to the fukurodani volleyball club to be the best matchmakers in the world

so one night while akaashi was chilling in bed he gets a text from bokuto telling him about an impromptu team hang out sesh

akaashi: it’s 7 pm ..?

you, in the group chat: theres never a wrong time for milk tea !!!!!

when you sent that everyone else in the chat was just so frickin ecstatic because now that you’ve confirmed you were going, it’s obvious that akaashi was now too

he arrived like 2 minutes early from the designated time and the way it wasn’t at all shocking when no one else arrived except for you

akaashi: well they totally bailed :/

you: hey at least now we have a list of people to take revenge on when the purge strikes

it’s okay though because the two of you make most of the night anyways !!

you never thought sitting outside of a 7/11 at 7 pm on a friday could be fun but as you sat there with boba tea and a ramen cup with one of your closest friends next to you, you were just !!!! so frickin soft

akaashi on the other hand didn’t feel anything but utter nervousness the whole time

it was so cold under the night sky and you were so close to him, he’s praying that you take the redness on his cheeks from the weather and not from the rapid racing of his heart

bokuto texting him: bro i swear to god if you’re not taking this chance to shoot your shot i’m >:(

he’s so nervous because it actually was an ideal time to tell you how much he liked you

plus he’s pretty sure that you were eventually gonna notice just how often he glanced at you whenever you came to their practices or in general

so he’s like fine then !!! he’s gonna do this tonight and if you reject him then he’s just gonna have to deal !!!!

akaashi, anxious: hey i really li—

you, cutting him off: i like you a lot and i’m pretty sure bokuto did this on purpose because he knows and i’m sorry if it wasted your time !!!!

akaashi, less anxious: oh

HE !! DOES NOT HESITATE !!! TO REASSURE YOU !!

he just smiles softly and tucks your hand in his and tells you he’d like to walk you home that night

after that something just changed between the two of you

suddenly he’s walking you home everyday with little forehead kisses before he leaves

going grocery shopping with him when you run out of food at home because he’s the only one who knows about your secret snack stash

akaashi: you don’t need that much yakult

you: ? don’t be alarmed but i think we just found the reason of our first fight

whenever you go out with him to shop for anything at all, he always has to be the person in front when you walk because he’s the one pushing the cart with his left hand while his right is tightly interlocked with yours

you just stray behind him, pointing out all the things you’d like and he’s the one who decides if it’s worth to buy because you’re absolutely sure that you’d be dead broke if you were left alone

akaashi: this hoodie looks cute, do you wanna try it out

you, recalling the four sweatshirts you haven’t returned to him: nah i have enough

sometimes you’d get in the cart whenever the grocery store you’re in is mega big and he’s just gonna have the most unbothered face as people eye him because he’s pushing a fucking cart with a person in it

you’d get worried though thinking that you’re too heavy for him to push around so you insist to get off but he just doesn’t let you because you were so cute and 😤

akaashi is just so frickin soft when it comes to you like most of the time when someone idly mentions your name a smile immediately comes up to his face and he doesn’t even realize it

he also almost always wake up to numerous snaps of you at 3 in the morning just doing the most random things

he goes through them with such a silly grin and has to fight the urge to screenshot all of them cause u were so FRICKEN cute

akaashi, looking at a photo of you with tears down your face from 4 am: that’s my baby 👉👈

everyone around y’all are just on the fence about the two of you dating since neither of you really cleared what was going on ???

you were scared to call him your boyfriend because there was never really a discussion about it and you didn’t want to come off as assuming

but one afternoon right before he left when he dropped you off at your house, he just stopped and looked at you and you were so confused

akaashi, taking off his sweatshirt and giving it to you: the news said it gets cold tonight

you, on the verge of tears: oh 🥺

tsukishima kei

he’s a salty little shit who complains 24/7 and that’s about as canon as it gets

BUT but !!! if there’s anything tsukishima is good at and i mean anything !!! it’s being observant and keen on the people around him !!! ESP TO YOU !!!

at first you were always just kinda there ?

like he noticed your presence cause you shared classes with him and you were also at his practices a lot cause you and kiyoko would walk home together

so he knew of you but didn’t really know know you, yk?

but then one day yamaguchi came to him introducing you because apparently he’s the only one left on the team who hasn’t met you and it may or may not be because you were low key scared of him

it’s all good though cause once you two shook hands and talked he became more open to actually including you in his life

you guys made out to be good friends considering that you balanced out his snarky attitude with your even worse comebacks

like they weren’t really all that clever but it’s annoying enough to get him to shut up when you want him to

everyone on the team was super surprised at the fact that you were able to talk to tsukishima like that but also they were like: “please don’t ever stop???”

so you became from someone he barely realized was there to always looking for you first when he enters a room

yamaguchi: you know some people would call that having a crush 😗

and he’s all confused cause he knew that the possibility of him getting through high school without having a crush was very slim but jesus christ a crush on YOU??

tsukki, internally: god has favorites and it is not me 💔

but when he gets over the idea that it’s completely revolting to like you like that he realizes something click and suddenly it wasn’t an annoying idea to see you romantically

so in full tsukishima style he asks you out and was pretty surprised when you said yes but you weren’t cause he wasn’t even mildly subtle at hiding his intentions

you: does this mean you won’t be mean to me anymore 🥺

tsukki: no but that’s a nice try ❤️

even when the two of you started dating, he didn’t really want anything to change cause he liked the dynamic he had with you

he was very relieved that you weren’t easily offended and you didn’t really get on his nerves a lot

you guys were hot heads but you also respected each other 🥺

something you quickly became accustomed to after dating though is being codependent when it came to sleeping

you’re usually always over at each other’s houses and his mom is totally over the moon at the fact that his son found someone like you

so every afternoon after school you two are at either houses and just chilling and vibing because school do be very tiring tho

most of the time naps happen and even if it is super hot outside and you’re on the verge of a heat stroke, you just can’t get comfortable unless you’re touching him yk?

tsukishima’s probably the same since he really likes it when his leg is over yours or when his arm is touching your arm

you, under a blanket against tsukki’s back in extremely warm weather: it’s hot

tsukki, sweating: yeah

you: so anyways

he didn’t even realize how much he’s used to you being there when he falls asleep that at night when he actually needs to rest and you’re not anywhere near him he just can’t ???

tsukishima, snapping you a picture of him with tired eyes at 2 in the morning: you ruined my life

you, just as tired, quickly replying: uno reverse card bitch

so it’s 2 am and neither of you can fall asleep and it’s just an entire frenzy of tiring yourselves out

the two of you end up facetiming and just talking endlessly about random thoughts and perspectives on people

his voice is 100% groggy and every 2 minutes he’s yawning but he really likes it when he’s talking to you because it’s always better when it’s you in the mix

he’s telling you all about how he thinks dinosaurs are super cool and fantastic that when he realizes you’ve fallen asleep he’s just like 🥺

he stares at the screen for a while, suddenly regretting that he wasn’t there to make sure you were comfortable

he’s got the softest smile on and he doesn’t even care that he’s staring at you while you’re asleep cause you just looked so peaceful and warm and sweet

tsukki: that’s my baby 🥺

he feels another yawn come up and he ends the call, hoping that the tone won’t wake you up when he does

at this point he’s also on the verge of falling asleep and he’s very glad that he talked to you because you always knew how to get him out of things like this

tsukki, texting you: thanks for falling asleep on me SNAKE

tsukki: love you, gn <3

[falloutjay]

Christophe x childhood friend reader x Kenny, Christophe, Gregory and reader have been friends since gradeschool. Reader was a very emotional person who cared about everyone. She was very sweet yet still helped the boys assassinating people. Reader had always had an obvious crush on Christophe but she never seems get to an direct answer and it really starts to bum her out. So she starts trying to stop showing her feelings to him. It worries people because she starts being more quieter than her normal self. When asked, all she can say ' I just realized that there's something I could never have' and nothing else. It's until reader's parents (who are bakers) get a job opportunity in a town named South Park. It's a very awkward goodbye (with Christophe, it's sad af with Gregory) and she leaves.

As if a switch was pulled, reader goes back to being a sweet and emotional girl (much to her parents delight/relief). We makes lot of new friends and gets a new crush too, Kenny McCormick. She's shy around him at first, much to her friends: Bebe, Wendy, and Nicole's confusion. She confides in them and tells her past troubles with love. They comfort her and tell that it's sure to be different. So reader lightens up around Kenny and they begin a beautiful relationship.

Yet we hit a rough patch when Kenny's womanizing way Catches up with him (Kelly, Tammy, etc) so we naturally get defensive (not to how we were with Christophe but still pretty strained). But worry not, reader (and her friends) win their class a trip to London (they sold 7,777 cookies!!!). Reader is nervous but doesn't stress to hard, it's not like Christophe is still leaving there right? Well after settling into their hotel, Reader and Gregory run into each other and have a heartfelt reunion then reader reunites with Christophe and it's really awkward. So Gregory and Christophe decide to join them on their trip, but something wrong. Christophe seems a lot more open with reader, which confuses reader and Kenny, having connected the dots, tries keeping reader for himself. And poor reader's in a blushy confusing emotional spiral.

I had such a blast writing this. Writing Christophe is mad fun.

Btw, I implied that the events of the movie never happened here, so Wendy and the others never met Gregory or Christophe.

Kenny and Christophe are also pretty mean girls basically but I loved it so much, I couldn't help myself. ^^

(EXCUSE MY BAD FRENCH; IT HAS BEEN YEARS SINCE MY LAST FRENCH LESSONS AND I WAS PRETTY BAD AT IT)

Warnings: Kenny and Christophe are a little OOC I think, swearing, French, Bad French.

____________________________

Christophe x Childhood friend!Reader x Kenny

You hummed as you waited for your best friends in the whole wide world. You had prepared a nice little lunch with self-made sandwiches, lemonade, and brownies.

Your excitement went through the roof, once you heard the door to your secret hideout open. Gregory was the first to come in. “Ah, Y/N, what a lovely surprise!” He said gleamingly and admired the beautifully set table. He put down his backpack and as he did so, your longtime crush strolled in. Cigarette in mouth, dirty all over him and an annoyed expression painted on his face, Christophe.

“Hey, how was the job?” You asked sweetly, as Gregory sat down, and Christophe did so too after a short hesitation. “It went well unti-” “Until zat fucking dumb kid made the wrong zound and made me mess up the whole time plan. Why does no one know what a dying giraffe sounds like?” He ranted, hands moving around hastily, while you and Gregory chuckled. “It’s not funny!” The dark-haired protested while he lit his cigarette. You just smiled.

Despite Christophe’s mean demeanor, you had a huge soft spot for him. “Hey, Christophe?” You asked, demanding his attention, which he gave you, while also taking a bite of a sandwich. “Would you maybe like to hang out sometime?” Gregory pretended to not exist and focused on the suddenly very interesting drink in his hand. He knew you liked their friend. But he also knew Christophe better than anyone else. And the blond knew this couldn’t end well.

“Ah, excuse moi, mais…I just don’t have the time currently.” You nodded, trying your best to not show how disappointed you were. It pained Gregory to see you like this. He loved you like a sister and seeing how Christophe was constantly breaking your little heart made him sad.

To his demise, you only grew quieter with time. When Gregory pressed you on the matter, asking what’s wrong, all you managed to mumble was: “I guess… I just realized that there's something I could never have”. It made him worry. You were such a sweet girl but recently you had become a husk of yourself and today was no different.

They had just come back from another job but this time you didn’t even greet them, just passed the folders in which you listed the new jobs they could take. “Here. I am afraid I have some bad news though.” You mumbled as you pressed the papers in their hands. Gregory looked at you with worry on his face. “What’s wrong, dear?” He asked and noticed how close you were to crying.

“My parents got a really good job over in Colorado. We will move next week.” You mumbled. Gregory threw the papers across the room, before storming to hug you. You held him close, feeling sad, that you would never again drink tea with your favorite English gentleman, and that deeply saddened you.

Your eyes wandered over to Christophe, who looked somewhat sad but made no move to express this. “I can't believe it. You’re THE most important part of this organization and you will be gone by next week?! Who is gonna help me with all the papers?” Gregory held you so close, you almost had trouble breathing.

“I gotta go early today since I have to start packing. I will miss you two so much.” You said, not being able to stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks. “Yeah, sure, take your time. If you need any help, you know you can always count on me.” Gregory said, finally letting go of you. You nodded and walked up to Christophe.

“I guess that’s it huh?” You muttered. “Oui. You will be a great loss to zis organization.” Awkwardly you nodded. Was this really everything he had to say? You didn’t see Gregory in the background, wildly gesticulating for him to say more. The dark-haired raised an eyebrow until he finally got what his partner tried to say.

“We will miss you.” He thought this was a perfectly fine answer, but didn’t catch how much that hurt you. “Yeah, me you too.” You said and walked towards the exit. “See you guys!” You called out before you vanished.

“Great job making her feel like shit.” “What waz I supposed to say?”

“My God, Y/N, you have been here for over half a year now! Just tell him already!” Bebe commented and you blushed profusely. “N-no! He doesn’t even like me that much!” You protested, your cheeks colored in a deep red. “There is no point in denying sweetheart. You both are head over heels for each other. Trust me, Stan told me how much Kenny talks about you.” Wendy reassured you. She pointed with her fork over to the table the boys were seated on and sure enough, the blond boy you were talking about was looking over, waving even when he spotted you looking at him. You shyly waved back, before hiding in your sweater.

“Okay, Y/N, what the fuck happened when you lived in England? I can’t imagine you always behave like this around someone you like.” Nicole looked sternly at you, and you let out a deep sigh. “Well, fine, yeah, there was a guy before Kenny that I liked.”

The girls all pushed their food trays to the side, to stick their heads closer together. “In England, I was close friends with two guys.” “Ohh, a three-way?” “Bebe!” Wendy hissed before they let you continue. “They are assassins and I helped them with everything behind the scenes, like contacting clients, paperwork, and all that. Gregory was my best friend, and the other guy is a French, god-hating, foul-mouthed idiot named Christophe. And I really had a thing for him, but he was always super cold and just not that interested in me.” You rambled and the girls listened attentively. “Okay, okay, Y/N, hear me out on this one…” Bebe began, and you looked at her. “Have you maybe thought about the fact that that Christophe guy was just an idiot? You’re great and Kenny sooo has a thing for you. Just go for it!” Nicole and Wendy nodded. “Yeah, you gotta make new experiences, real experiences.” Nicole agreed and Wendy gave it a thumbs up.

Before they could talk any further, you felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around. Kenny stood there, smiling warmly. “Hey, Y/n, I just wanted to ask if you maybe wanna go to the mall with me on Saturday and maybe get a smoothie or something?” You felt your face heat up and heard the girls squeal quietly. You nodded. “Yeah, that would great!” You answered and he shot you a flashy smile. “Great. I’ll come to pick you up, yeah?” You nodded excitingly and he walked back to the boy’s table. “Ahh, you got a date!” Nicole beamed and so did the other two. A big smile was glued to your face, and you only managed to nod. “We will so come over on Friday and get you ready! Girls’ night!” Bebe planed and you happily agreed.

Being with Kenny was great. He was loving, always looked out for you, loved listening to you, and yet, you hated his guts just now. You wanted to strangle those stupid sluts that constantly clung to his side like their life depended on it. Yeah, you knew Tammy and he had history, as did Kelly, but did he really have to talk to them that much? Didn’t he see how much you hated it? “Hey, babe!” He whispered into your ear, and you moved away. “Hey, Kenny.” You said coldly. You waited for Mister Garrison to finally let you in the hotel. You and the girls managed to win the school competition for a trip to London, by selling 7,777 packages of cookies, totally legally, by the way, nothing to see here, so now your class was in London and after you sat with the girls in the bus Kenny had sneaked up to you. You were kind of nervous, fearing that you could maybe run into…him… but there was no chance he still lives here, right? Right?

You didn’t know why, but since Kenny had started to talk to his bitches, as you called them, again you distanced yourself from him. You were afraid of being hurt again, so distancing yourself was an automatic reaction.

Once you got settled in your room, the girls proposed discovering the town, since you guys had no events for the day. You happily greed and once in the corridor, you spotted Stans gang down the hall. Wendy asked them to join, much to your demise. You wanted girl time, not being secretly annoyed with Kenny time.

You, Wendy, Bebe, Stan, Kyle, and Kenny wandered the streets, taking in the new scenery. “It’s pretty nice here, isn’t it?” Wendy asked as she put the sweets she bought in her bag. “Yeah!” You agreed and sipped on the tea you ordered.

You guys had sat down at a café to just watch the bussing streets and enjoy some British tea. Kyle was talking to Stan about Cartman, and what prank they’d play on him tonight. Kenny was chatting with Bebe and Wendy about Tammy and Kelly, much to your demise and you just looked around. Your eyes wandered and you watched the other patrons when you stopped at a familiar seeming one. Your mouth was agape, there’s no way your eyes weren’t tricking you right now?!

The in leather gloved hands, the orange button-up shirt, that thick golden hair… A book rested in his left hand, while the other held the tea with an extended pinky. It was him. Gregory. He must have noticed you staring as he looked up and recognized you as well. A big smile appeared on his face, and he quickly put the book in his leather messenger bag. You got up, ignoring the questions from the others, while you ran into Gregory’s extended arms.

“Y/N my dear! I would have never guessed to see you again!” Gregory proclaimed, spinning you around. Neither of you cared that everyone was watching. “I’m so happy to see you. It has been ages!” You mumbled, still hugging your long-lost friend tightly. You only lost contact because you lost your phone during the move, so you had no way of contacting them. Before you two could talk, Kenny appeared by your side.

“Hey, babe, who is this guy?” He asked and as you turned around you saw the questioning looks of everyone. “Oh sorry. Guys, this is my old friend Gregory, we have been friends since we were little. Gregory, these are my friends from America, Wendy, Bebe, Kyle, Stan, and my boyfriend Kenny.”

Gregory properly introduced himself and moved to sit with you guys. He talked with your new friends, and you immediately saw how Wendy and Bebe hung to his lips. You understood that. Gregory was a really good-looking young man by now. You chuckled when you spotted how jealous Stan became with each passing second. Soon Gregory’s phone rang, and he excused himself to take the call.

“Oh my god! That’s the Gregory, you told us about, Y/N? Why did you hide that he’s a British snack!” Bebe exclaimed and you chuckled. Soon Gregory sat back down and that devious smile on his lips made you wonder.

“Ze Mole is coming.” He just said, knowing you wanted to question his smile. You felt the blood in your veins freeze for a second.

“He is still here?” You asked and Gregory nodded. “Why wouldn’t he? We kept the organization running. And there is always a spot for you if you ever want to come back.” The blond spotted the longing in your eyes at an instant. Kenny watched it happening quietly, carefully watching you. Soon enough, a certain someone arrived, pulling another chair to your table, and sitting on it backward, so that he was leaning on the backrest.

Your heart was beating like you had just run a marathon as you inspected every detail about him. His dark messy hair was roughly still the same and his trademark cigarette his only accessory. The tight-fitting dark green shirt fit him perfectly you thought and the tactical belt around his torso was still there. He also still wore fingerless gloves. The two really didn’t change much, apart from becoming older.

“Well, Christophe, these are Y/Ns friends from America.” Gregory introduced them and the dark-haired male lazily gifted him a wave. Wendy and Bebe noticed how you were obviously checking him out and laughed.

“I see you got a thing for baddies.” Bebe whispered into your ear, and you wanted to protest, but got interrupted by Stan.

“Well, I like this sort of reunion, but don’t wanna want to continue or sightseeing?” Gregory smiled warmly, as he offered to play tour guide for you. Your friends happily agreed to his proposition, feeling glad to have a real British tour guide. So, you guys paid for your orders and started walking.

To your surprise, instead of walking up front with Gregory, Christophe walked next to you, eyeing you curiously. “It’s nice to ze you again, mon chéri.” He said you felt your face heat up. Did he seriously just call you that? Did he actually say he’s happy to see you again?

“Well, it has been a while, hasn’t it?” You mumbled and Christophe had a pleasant smile resting on his face. That was a new thing, you thought. While Christophe walked next to you on your right, Kenny was on your left and eyeing the French with jealous eyes. He was an expert at reading people and he spotted Christophe’s attraction to HIS girlfriend miles go and he wasn’t blind to your body language either. You two had history. That much was clear.

Gregory led the group down to a nice spot near the riverbanks of the Thames where the girls took pictures together. Kyle and Gregory switched taking the group photos, while Kenny stood next to Christophe, both looking at the others.

Everyone felt the obvious tension between the two. “Don’t even think about, frog eater.” Kenny said, which made Christophe chuckle.

“Ahh, you Américains are so funny. You think everything belongs to you, when in reality she was already mine, once I sat down at ze table.” Christophe took the last puff of his cigarette, before stomping on it on the ground. Kenny averted his gaze and looked at his newfound rival.

“Yours?” He questioned but didn’t Christoph didn’t reward him with an answer. He only chuckled and put a new unlit cigarette in his mouth.

“Écoutez-Vous. You sound so funny.” The girl the two were fighting about returned with Bebe and Wendy and they all obviously felt the tension between the two.

“Ken, come over. Group pics!” Kyle called out to him and somewhat annoyed, Kenny jogged over. So you and your two friends were left with the French man.

“I just wanted to say, you look formidable, ma briquette.” Wendy and Bebe quietly squealed, as Christoph took your hand to press a kiss on your knuckles. You blushed a deep red. What had happened to him? He never behaved like that, but you couldn’t deny how he made your knees weak.

“Hey, Hey, Hey!” Kenny called out and quickly came stomping back. “I just told you to back off.” Kenny said. “Ah sorry, my English is pretty bad, I must have misunderstood.” Christophe shrugged. Kenny wrapped his arms around you and held you close.

“I’ll fuck you up if you don’t keep yourself in check.” Kenny spat and you broke free of his forced hug. “Ken, what the hell?” You questioned his sudden aggression, but you were quickly shoved away by Christophe, who now got all up in Kenny’s face.

“Oh, zen pray to whatever hate-filled God you believe in, and I hope for you he’z real because nothing will be as real as your fucked up face once I am done.” “Oh, I don’t believe in Gods. Not when I already know what hell looks like and so will you when I get started.”There was no point in denying that you, Wendy, and Bebe were super interested in this showdown. It was interesting to see two guys who were obviously fighting over you get so riled up.

Bebe leaned over and whispered: “Damn Y/N, you really got the hot guys fighting over you.” You had a faint pink tone on your cheeks. The two guys you liked were ready to basically kill each other over you. It was kind of flattering. Stan and Kyle tried getting the two to calm down, but to no avail, as they just kept going with their petty insults.

Gregory walked up next to you, leaning down to talk. “You are the only one who can get them to stop, you know that right?” He questioned.

“Yeah. But you must admit, this is kinda entertaining.” He laughed and nodded. “You’re right.” “Give me a minute Gregory. I never had someone fight for me.” You whispered with a hot face, watching as Kyle and Stan tried to pull the two away from each other.

Your heart was confused, seeing Christophe again and how he now behaved towards you awakened feelings you thought weren’t there anymore, but you also loved how Kenny was ready to fight for you. How could anyone not find this super interesting?

[woah-were-halfway-there]

Mia’s First Game

A/N: as requested, here’s the little blurb that I originally was going to post the other day but didn’t. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.2k

With Mia being born at the end of January and the Leafs' season getting cut short at the beginning of May that year after a brief playoff run, she still hadn't been to a game. She was only three months old when the season finished, and although the thought of taking her to one of the games definitely crossed your mind, with how she was in the routine of falling asleep around 7pm every night, it just wasn't possible. However, as summer came and went, you knew you'd be taking Mia to her first NHL game to watch her dad once the season started back up again, and you were pretty excited about it.

The original plan was to take Mia to the Saturday game after the first home game of the season that took place earlier in the week. Auston's family was flying into Toronto on the Friday, so you and Mia would go to the game with them the following evening. However, shortly after Auston left to head down to SBA for the home-opener, that changed.

While talking on the phone with Steph, who was getting ready with a couple of the other wives and girlfriends of players, you became convinced not to spend your night at home. The girls booked a booth at SBA to all get-together and watch the game as a way to celebrate the new season starting, and of course, you and Mia were invited. But you kept declining because you were so set on attending Saturday's game, although you really had no reason not to go to both.

At eight months old, Mia was full of energy, and you knew she'd have a ton of fun hanging out with the other girls that she's come to know, all while cheering on Auston and the rest of the guys. You weren't sure why you didn't agree to just go in the first place regardless of whether you'd have to leave a little early and take Mia home, but the more you talked to Steph, the more you became convinced that you should.

However, with you being, well, you, there was no way you were going to start getting ready without talking to Auston's family first, seeing as you knew they were excited about going to the game with Mia on Saturday. They immediately told you not to worry about them and to go have fun with your friends, but not without mentioning how they'd be watching for Auston's reaction to one he realized you and Mia were there.

The thought of seeing your husband's surprised expression after noticing that his two girls were at the game made you smile, and you became even more excited as you quickly packed up your things, then grabbed Mia and left to go over and get ready at Steph and Mitch's place.

About two hours later, you and Mia were all dressed in your matching Matthews jerseys and were ready to go. It was great catching up with all the other wives and girlfriends that you hadn't gotten to see since your wedding at the end of July because after that, you got sucked into everything involved with moving from the downtown condo to your new house. You also met and welcomed some of the new girls that recently moved to Toronto with their man for the new season as well, all of whom were lovely.

Mia was having a great time too, and just by seeing how happy she was, you knew that you made the right call about going to the game. But, soon enough, it was time to go. After the whole group took some pictures in their jerseys, including Steph stealing Mia for some pics with her goddaughter, you all headed downtown together so you could watch your guys in action.

Upon arriving at the arena, your whole group went to the suite that was booked out for you girls to drop off your things, then you, Mia, and Steph headed to the Platinum Club so the three of you could be let up to the glass one warmups started. You chatted with a worker who was going to escort the three of you to the rinkside just as the Leafs took to the ice, as Mia babbled away in your arms and took in her surroundings.

Soon enough, the team was announced, and the crowd started going wild. You and Steph then followed the worker down the hall and walked right up the glass before waiting and watching as the guys took the ice. You could hear fans nearby talking and mentioning pointing out that Auston's wife and daughter were there, which made you a little nervous because Mia has never really been so in the public eye before. But, your nerves soon melted away.

"Mom, they're wearing Matthews jerseys like us," You heard a small voice speak up, then glanced over to where two kids were sitting with their parents. The little girl appeared to be maybe six or seven. Meanwhile, her brother seemed a bit younger. With how she was glancing up at who you assumed was her mom, obviously looking for a response, you knew that she was the one who mentioned the jerseys.

"Yes, honey," the mother replied. "That's Auston's family. They're here to watch the game just like we are."

Your heart swelled so much watching their interaction, and you could feel yourself getting a little emotional because of it. Steph chuckled slightly as she watched you but also had to admit that it was all pretty cute too.

Then another voice spoke up.

"Is this your little one's first game?" An older man who was sitting in the row behind the family asked you.

"It is," you confirmed with a smile, then glanced down at your daughter. "Except we decided to come last minute, so her dad doesn't even know we're here yet. Can you say hi, Mia?"

Mia squealed in response, then got all smiley, which made those sitting nearby laugh and awe a bit at just how cute she was.

"Your daughter is beautiful," a different woman stated, making you feel even more emotional than before.

"Thank you," you responded. "I still haven't fully accepted the fact that she looks more like Auston than she does me, but I'll get over it."

"Speaking of Auston, here he comes," said another person, but you didn't even get the chance to see who because you were turning back around to face the rink just as your husband skated down from centre ice and took a shot on net.

He scored, then skated over to the boards a little bit behind the net to where Mitch, John and Willy were all standing. They talked for a few seconds before Will's gaze drifted in your direction until he spotted you, Steph and Mia, a smile stretching across his mouth as he did so.

Will then nudged both Auston and Mitch, then pointed to where you were standing so they could see too.

Upon locking eye contact with you, Auston's face lit right up, and it wasn't long before he and Mitchy were both skating over to the corner.

There was no way the two of you would've been able to hear each other through the glass, so instead, Auston gave you a look as he approached, showing that he was surprised to see you there. He also expressed that he wasn't mad about it as he winked at you and grinned cheekily.

Once the two guys reached the glass, they started waving at Mia, and much to your surprise, she immediately recognized them even in all their hockey gear.

"Da-da," she said and then reached towards the glass. Acting fast, you shifted her in your hold and lifted her so that she'd stand on the little ledge around the boards and be face to face with Auston. "Da-da!"

Mia's smile grew even wider as she stared at her dad and banged on the glass a little bit while he waved at her and blew her kisses. You then looked at your cousin as he stood next to your husband and couldn't help but smile at how he was smiling so widely as he watched Mia and Auston.

Mitch then looked at you and gave you a knowing look as if to say you better not leave before he gets the chance to see his goddaughter after the game. You nodded in understanding, which made his smile grow even wider.

However, soon enough, the moment had to come to an end because Auston and Mitch both had a game to play. It wasn't until then that you noticed the Leafs photographer only a few feet away as well and knew that he had just captured that little moment forever.

Auston and Mitchy then waved bye to you, Mia and Steph before going back to the rest of the team to finish up their warmups and get ready to start the game.

Mark, the team photographer, then approached the three of you to show you the images he took. There was one of you holding Mia while facing the fans with your backs to the camera that showcased your Matthews jerseys, another of you, Mia and Steph, all standing together looking very happy as you waited for your guys. And then the last one, which was probably your favourite, was a closeup of Mia and Auston as they smiled at each other through the glass, then had you in the background looking at the two of them and smiling fondly. It was adorable, and Mark assured that he'd send the pictures to you and Auston once he edited them.

After that, the three of you headed back to the booth, but not without saying bye to the Leafs fans you chatted with and told them you hoped they enjoyed the game.

Everyone welcomed you back excitedly at the suite before you all settled in and got ready to watch your guys play their first game of the season.

The Leafs ended up winning, which had the energy in the arena feeling insane but in the best way possible. On top of it, Auston scored two of the goals, which helped result in the team's 4-3 victory over Calgary.

By the end of the game, Mia was very tired. However, she wasn't getting fussy. She just continued fighting so hard to keep her eyes open and enjoyed her time being around people she was comfortable within this entirely new setting.

As everyone began clearing out of their seats, your whole group went back down to the Platinum Club and waited for the guys. Steph carried Mia all the way there, but after a few minutes, Mia began reaching for you because whenever she got exhausted, she only wanted her parents and would become overly snuggly.

Once you took her from Steph, she immediately clung to you and leaned against your shoulder while you assured her that you'd be going home very soon.

A few minutes later, the guys started filing into the waiting area, all happy to see their significant others and families as they greeted them after their big win. As you waited for Auston, you spotted Mitchy first, and he wasted no time coming over to say hi to Mia but was also very respectful of the fact that she was exasperated.

Not long after that, Auston entered the room and smiled so wide again once he laid eyes on you and Mia.

"There's my girls," he greeted happily as he approached the two of you, then took Mia from your hold, awing as she let out a yawn and immediately snuggled against him. "You tired, mini?"

"She's very tired, but she's trying hard to stay awake at the moment," you explained, then smiled as Auston wrapped his other arm around your waist and pulled you in for a kiss.

"And how are you feeling, baby mama? This was your first big night out with Mia, and I must say, you both sure made my night by being here."

You rolled your eyes at his baby mama comment but couldn't help the blush that burned your cheeks at the rest of what he said.

"You're making it sound like I don't have a life, babe. But I'm good. Really glad I decided to bring Mia out tonight. We had a lot of fun, didn't we, sweet girl?"

Mia didn't respond. You didn't expect her to, especially with her minimal vocabulary. Instead, she mindlessly brought her hand up to her mouth and began sucking on it, then using her other hand to rub her cheek. She'd been teething like crazy lately, and those actions were what she did when her mouth was beginning to bother her.

You and Auston looked at each other knowingly after that because you both knew how if she were in discomfort, mixed with how she was already so exhausted, things would get real messy real soon. So, without even having to agree on it, you both started saying your goodbyes and headed home.

Deep down, you knew that night would probably be a little rough with Mia and trying to get her to sleep comfortably, but you weren't worried. You were so content and knew that Mia also had a good night out, so it was worth it. And besides, you didn't have to do it alone. Auston was there too, he wasn't going anywhere, and you knew you'd get through whatever else your little family needed to face together.

[artificialqueens]

Me and You Together, 1/? (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: The cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates, because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward. A’whora and Tayce both know this, but being in first year of uni and making good decisions have never really gone hand in hand.

a/n: i honestly have begun this wip with glitter and jesus. i have no idea how many chapters it’s going to have or what exactly the plot is going to be…all i know is that it’s fwb (flatmates with benefits) to lovers taywhora with a background love triangle involving Ellie bc she’s my fav. pls enjoy and pls leave me love because i am a keyworker so really one comment = one 6pm clap xo

P.S. the Friday mentioned in this fic is the one A’whora’s obsessed with and was dancing to on her insta…not the popular Rebecca Black song. also 100 points to anyone who knows the song Lawrence and Ellie get excited about in the club.

content note: they’re freshers at uni in the UK and this country has a binge drinking problem xo. please don’t expect any of these girls to be acting responsibly. if you think you might be influenced by a fic talking about alcohol, smoking, sex and drugs, this might not be for you luv xo

**

December- Fell in love with her in stages

A year ago if you had asked A’whora what she was doing on a Tuesday night, the answer would’ve been mundane.

Homework, maybe, if she could be bothered. She could always copy it from Mocha in registration, after all. Making tiny outfits for Barbie dolls out of fabric scraps, very probably; she hadn’t stopped doing that just because she was older, the only difference from when she was nine was that she didn’t make her Barbies talk anymore. Invariably she’d stay up til’ well past her bedtime, earphones plugged in to her laptop and trying not to sing along to the playlist of dance music she’d spent a year cultivating. She’d poked fun at her Mum for still giving her a bedtime at the big age of eighteen, but she’d maintained that while her girl was living under her roof it would be bed by eleven on a weeknight and out no later than three on a weekend.

These rules, however, were quickly disposed of as soon as she’d got the keys to her uni flat. As soon as she’d found out her other flatmates were just as riotous and chaotic as she was and loved a night out just as much, her weeks had been filled with nights she’d never forget in bars she couldn’t remember, heads against speakers and sore feet from heels and ridiculous pre-drinks with even more ridiculous cocktails.

One such cocktail is the one her flatmate’s making for her now. Ellie doesn’t have any of the professional equipment a usual bartender would, but that doesn’t seem to stop her- the messy countertops are a treasure trove of obscure liqueurs and alcopops, and Ellie twirls a yellow-blonde curl around her finger before giving a gasp of satisfaction as her hand settles on a sticky green bottle.    

“One shot of apple soors, half a can of blue Monster, top up the rest with vodka,” she explains as she works with the various bottles and cans quickly, pouring into the pint glass they’d stolen from one of the pubs on a bar crawl during Freshers Week. She hands it to A’whora with a cheeky, mischievous grin on her painted face.

A’whora sniffs her glass and feels her nose wrinkle up involuntarily at the concoction her flatmate’s poured for her. “Els, if I drink that I’ll die.”

Ellie, to her credit, simply gives a snort of disapproval in response. Her pink acrylics click against the quarter bottle of vodka as she tightens the lid and replaces it in their freezer, all shiny and slick with frost. “Well if you are gonna take three hours to get ready then you’re gonna have to deal with the consequences of playing catch-up, babe.”

“Bitch,” A’whora jokes, rolling her eyes before sipping from her glass. The mixture makes her screw her face up so she takes another sip, then another until the weird sour-sweet-burn in her throat becomes more like a cocktail than cough syrup.

“Good, right?” Ellie prompts her, leaning against their kitchen counter proudly.

“No,” A’whora deadpans, causing her friend to burst out laughing. Then, realising something, she cocks her head. “Wait a second. What the fuck did you call the green drink?”

Ellie frowns. “Soors.”

“…Sourz?” A’whora says back to her, already giggling at the difference in dialects.

“Don’t play the pronunciation game with me, bitch.”

“Oh, I absolutely will when you’re just saying it wrong.”

“Lawrence!” Ellie shouts through to their other flatmate, sitting on the sofa and frowning at the bluetooth speaker as if it’s personally committed some crime against her. Ellie holds up the bottle as Lawrence snaps her head round, dark curls flying over her shoulder. “What’s this?”

“Liquidised heartburn,” she says instantly. A’whora snorts as Ellie rolls her eyes.

“Fuck’s sake. What’s it called?”

“Soors,” Lawrence shrugs back at her, and Ellie gestures triumphantly at A’whora who can only pout in reply.

“Listen, I can get Tia, Bims and Tayce through here and they’d all outnumber you, so. Shut it.”

“Yeah bet you’d love to get Tayce through here, A’whora,” Ellie smirks, raising both her eyebrows at her in an infuriatingly smug expression.

A’whora is clamped for a couple of reasons, the first being the God-awful nickname all her flatmates use against her. She’d managed to acquire it the first time they’d all played Never Have I Ever together and A’whora had drank for pretty much every situation or scenario presented to her. Before she’d known it, her very lovely, very Disney Princess-esque first name had been replaced by a pun that Bimini had come up with in the midst of their third rum and coke, and thus Aurora was dead and A’whora was born.  

The second reason for her silence is a result of the mention of one of the girls she’s living with. A’whora had never really expected to develop a crush on any of her flatmates, which had been a ridiculous thing to assume- given the fact she’s attracted to girls and was going to be living with other girls, the odds would dictate that at least one of them would be her type. Luckily, though, she hasn’t developed any feelings for any of them. At least, that’s the lie she’s telling herself, as the cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward.

Tayce is different to Ellie, Lawrence, Tia and Bimini, though. None of the others get A’whora so flustered when they speak to her, none of the other others get her heart racing so fast it threatens to fly out her ribcage. She doesn’t feel the same sense of dizzy joy when she’s alone with any of the others: only when Tayce makes dinner with her, or when she comes to her room at ten at night for chats, or when they play Tayce’s stupid video games together and she beats her way-too-many-consecutive-times in a row to be considered fair. A’whora has tried to explain it away as just wanting to be liked, just wanting to be good friends, just just just until she can’t justify her own excuses any more and has instead resigned herself to repressing the feelings she has for her friend. The tension between them is building, though, and it’s only a matter of time until something happens.

“BITCH!”

A’whora jumps a little, flinching as she realises she’s gone too long without a comeback. Ellie’s expression is expectant and impatient as she clicks her fingers once, twice, three times in her face.

“Shut up, Ellie-phant,” A’whora manages to mumble almost incoherently as she turns on her heel, walking through to the living room area to sit with Lawrence and join her on her quest to making their speakers work.

Their flat is an odd one. The front door leads to a prison cell-style line of equally pokey rooms- Lawrence’s, Tayce’s, A’whora’s, Bimini’s, Ellie’s and Tia’s respectively- and two bathrooms. Then another door opens out onto two hobs, endless cupboards and grimy, cluttered countertops, and a scrub of shitty green carpet and three worn out red-purple sofas that look as tired as Bimini does when they come home from a random afterparty just as A’whora leaves for lectures. It doesn’t in any way look like a normal flat, but A’whora supposes they’re about as far away from normal as a sentient slice of cheese.

“Oh babe, you must be crushing crushing. I don’t think I’ve heard you come out with a comeback as shit as that in the whole four months we’ve lived together,” Ellie continues the conversation, buzzing behind her like an annoying fly.

“It wasn’t shit, it was good!”

“Lawrie, what’s a good comeback to me calling A’whora a whore?” Ellie appeals to her friend again.

“Rich of you to be calling anyone a whore. You come from a long line of whores. You’re a whore, your maw’s a whore, your maw’s maw was a whore. There’s cave paintings of your ancestors wi’ twelve dicks in their mouths. There’s tapestries of them gettin’ shagged left, right an’ centre. There’s clay sculptures of them being whores. Pipe the fuck doon,” Lawrence reels off, Ellie growing more and more breathless with hysterical laughter beside her and A’whora falling into giggles too.

“Well this was a weird time for me to enter the conversation.”

A’whora feels her heart lift and her face light up when she turns around and sees Tayce walking through to join them, the posture of a model with her fingers curled elegantly around the stem of a wine glass. She flicks her long, dark hair over her shoulder as she sits down on the small sofa beside A’whora, and she wonders how Tayce can sit in a way that makes the stained, battered, scratchy upholstery seem like the set of a high fashion photoshoot.

“Just talking about you,” A’whora sticks her tongue out at her, laughing at the way Tayce reels in fake horror and Lawrence explodes with laughter across from them.

“The valour, the bravery and the backbone,” Tayce grumbles, rolling her eyes. Her gaze rests upon something behind A’whora- the back of the sofa. Maybe there’s a new rip in it, God knows how that can have happened. She holds back a gasp, though, when Tayce reaches out and runs a gentle finger down her spine against her bare skin; an advantage of the sparkly backless cowl neck top she’s wearing that she hadn’t known existed until now. “Speaking of backbones, you’re such a skinny minnie.”

“Did you go to the school of backhanded compliments?” A’whora teases, deflecting from the way her heart’s still thrumming in her chest at the contact.

“Shush, you. You know you look bloody gorgeous,” Tayce says back to her, and even though there’s a laugh to her voice A’whora knows she means it. Her heart’s still going like a train but she can chalk that up to the half can of Monster Ellie’s dumped into her drink, so when she mutters out a thanks hun, same to you she hopes it doesn’t sound as insincere as it feels.

The thing is, she does look gorgeous. She’s dressed in a black lace bodysuit with straps that criss-cross up the back and a tight leather skirt that makes her legs look even longer than they already are. She’s opted for heels like A’whora has (unlike Ellie and Lawrence who have designated night-out trainers stained with spillages of drinks gone by) but hers have straps that are laced all the way round her calves and tied with a knot at the top. Everything about her outfit makes everything about her look outrageously good, and A’whora thinks it should be illegal for anyone to be this ethereal.

Tayce looks as if she’s about to fire something back at her judging by the little smile on her face but she’s interrupted by an outrageously loud boom from the speakers, as something that could be Lady Gaga but is too deafening to be deciphered screams through it. As the girls all flinch there’s a frantic diminuendo that comes from Lawrence mashing the volume button until the pitch is finally bearable and they can all take their hands off their ears.

“Lawrence, did you get the speakers working?” Ellie quips sarcastically, to which Tayce and A’whora burst out laughing and Lawrence almost elbows Ellie off the sofa opposite.

In the melee A’whora almost doesn’t notice Bimini and Tia come in, and they look ready to start the night if a little panicked.

“What the hell was that?” Tia asks quickly, opening the fridge and grabbing her bottle of premixed Malibu and pineapple before perching herself on the couch beside Ellie. “I thought part of the building had exploded.”

“Nah that was just my vagina, babes,” Lawrence says offhandedly, the others either screeching with laughter or groaning in anguish. Bimini crosses the room with their selection of drinks cradled in their arms and budges Tayce and A’whora up with an oi, oi!, A'whora’s pulse thudding at her wrist as a result of her close proximity to her crush.

No- her friend. Her friend who’s never going to be anything more than that.

With the six flatmates assembled, drinks poured, and tunes on, their pre drinks can begin. Pres at their flat often look like drinking games, yelling along to early 2010s pop, tipsily booking taxis and then touching up their makeup in the waiting time before they arrive. Tonight is no different; they bicker about where they want to go and eventually decide on the union because although it’s “too het” according to Ellie, it’s admittedly cheap and a good night out. A’whora chips into the conversation every five minutes with shady, catty jokes that Tayce howls at and leans into her side and clutches her arm or her hand or her thigh.

The contact is nice. They’ve reached that stage of their friendship where they’re touchy and close a lot of the time- A’whora’s constantly playing with Tayce’s hair and Tayce thinks nothing of just walking into A’whora’s room and getting under the duvet with her. They throw their arms around each other and bump shoulders as they walk and touch legs on the sofa, much like they’re doing now. A’whora has never been a cuddly type of friend- to be honest, she still isn’t- but there’s something about doing all this with Tayce that she doesn’t mind. It’s a comfortable kind of intimacy, a knitted blanket of sorts, but it’s a fragile space for Tayce to occupy too and A’whora knows it’s risky to let her rip a wall down she’s never been aware of til now.

The night rolls along and with every refill of A’whora’s glass the music gets turned up a little more, a little more, a little more until they’re all having to yell over each other as they play wiggly wiggly woo, who’s most likely to. It’s all fun and games until it gets to who’s most likely to sleep with a flatmate, and there’s a confusing mess of finger-pointing where Lawrence points to Ellie, Tayce points to Lawrence, and Bimini, Ellie and Tia point to A’whora.

“Fuck off, why’s it me?” she screeches in outrage, trying to cover up the fact her cheeks are burning and that Tayce seems suddenly all too close to her.

“Because! It’s you! It’s A’whora!” Bimini laughs, their accent making them seem all the more mischievous and shit-stirring.

“Well! If I’m sleeping with a flatmate that must mean one of you’s gonna be involved, doesn’t it?!”

“Right, sorry, yeah,” Bimini nods understandingly, before immediately switching to point to Tayce. There’s an arena-crowd roar that erupts from the others, one that makes A’whora laugh and blush scarlet at the same time. She sneaks a look at Tayce, who’s regarding her with much the same expression.

“I’m down if you are, hun,” A’whora jokes-but-not-really, shaking Tayce’s arm as if it’ll take away from the weak joke she’s trying to make. Tayce only shoots her a wink with her tongue trapped between her teeth.

“In your dreams, love.”

A’whora’s glad of the others laughing so she can pretend to join in, occupy herself with something other than the overwhelming urge to reply to Tayce with exactly.

The rest of pres fly by tipsily and incoherently. They get a noise complaint from the weird flat underneath them which seems solely comprised of six boys who never go outside, which prompts them to book taxis even though the union is only about a ten minute walk away. A’whora helps Tia re-glue on her eyelashes in a rush and Bimini spontaneously fills a hipflask with Ellie’s apple sourz, “for the road”. When the taxis roll up outside Lawrence hurries them all out the door with the urgency of a mother of five, and before long they’re standing in a queue around the block, Bimini and A’whora sharing Tia’s huge puffer jacket because neither of them thought to pick up coats in their haste to leave.

Tayce pulls a packet of cigarettes out of her pocket, flips the little cardboard lid of them open and offers them round to the others. A’whora takes one because Tayce is offering, and really Tayce could offer them grenades with the pins pulled out and A’whora would accept if only to get her smile flashed at her again or the chance that their hands might touch during the transfer. A’whora thinks Tayce is every public health campaign’s worst nightmare as she watches her hold the cigarette between her index and middle fingers, wrap her lips around the end and inhale. Her cheekbones are razor-sharp as she drags then lets the breath go, red lipstick on the paper and the smoke curling up into the sparkly, dark night sky.

She is beautiful.

It’s because she’s beautiful that A’whora shouldn’t be surprised by the events that begin to unfold as they enter the club. Ellie immediately makes her way over to a booth, picks up the little sign that says it’s reserved and chucks it onto the dancefloor to get trampled underfoot and covered in sticky cocktail spillages. Tayce’s round is first because she lost Ring of Fire back at the flat so she goes over to the bar for shots, promising she’ll be only a couple of minutes and the others believing her; the way she looks ensures she never has a long wait time at the bar.

So they wait. And they wait. At first they don’t even notice how long they’ve waited- the tunes are good and loud and so they all yell along happily. Until Lawrence turns to the others with narrowed eyes.

“Here. Where the fuck is Tayce? She’s been ages.”

They all scan the bar, and Ellie suddenly points dramatically over to the other end of it. “Oh!”

Because Tayce is standing at the bar with no drinks and no interest in any of the bartenders taking drinks orders. She’s talking to a tall blonde with a dazzling smile and a low-cut crop top, and something inside A’whora burns and sinks at the same time. Tayce is allowed to be talking to a pretty girl. She’s not not allowed to. But it doesn’t make her any less jealous of the attention she’s giving her.

It’s a horror movie she can’t look away from. She’s aware that Ellie has gone to get the drinks instead, but that’s all she can absorb from her surroundings. She tunes out of the conversation at the table as she continues to watch the two of them interact. The girl’s got muscles, and her hair falls in neat waves on her shoulders, and she’s smiley and charming and doesn’t talk much, preferring instead to listen to Tayce. A’whora is different. A’whora is constantly on transmit; loud and opinionated and gobby and, okay, sometimes a little bit judgemental. She can’t do charming and demure. She can’t be what Tayce is very clearly interested in.

A thud next to her causes A’whora to whip her head round, tearing herself away from the scene playing out in front of her and ripping the plaster off.

“Fuck’s sake. Jaegerbombs with Red Bull? Puh-rison!” Ellie half-whines, half-shouts.

“Red Bull is the standard, not everyone can have the same taste in energy drinks as a sixteen year old virgin gamer,” A’whora narrows her eyes, gratefully accepting the drink from her nonetheless and shotting it back as if it’ll help blind her, or perhaps forget what she’s seeing.

“God. Who pissed in your coco pops?” Ellie fires back, rolling her eyes dramatically.

“Bold of you to assume anything specific has happened to make her this bitter, mean and salty,” Tia jokes from A’whora’s side, and as the others scream and laugh A’whora in turn fixes her with a glare, wishing momentarily she had laser beams for pupils.

“Ooh, that’s made me want a tequila,” Lawrence cries enthusiastically, too loud even from the other side of the booth.

“Eh, excuse me! I just got you a Jaegerbomb, finish that first,” Ellie chastises her like a world-weary parent, pushing the glass towards her friend and sliding her hand over the table, sticky with the ghosts of questionable drinks’ past. A’whora has to snort at her tone.

“Yeah Lawrence, finish your Jaegerbomb or you won’t get any dessert. Listen to your responsible Mum whose eyelash is coming off.”

A big roar of laughter flies up from the others, and it’s Ellie’s turn to glare at A’whora this time. She looks as if she’s about to say something back when Bimini sniffs their glass and frowns.

“Is Jaegerbombs vegan?”

Everyone apparently wishes to ignore the lack of grammatical sense to their sentence, and it’s Lawrence who responds first. “They’re vegan in the same sense that bleach is vegan?”

Bewilderingly satisfied, Bimini raises their glass to the middle of the table and the girls join them, cheering as they all clink them together and chuck the drinks back. The fact A’whora can’t join in leaves her eyes to fall on Tayce and that girl again. Tayce is smiling and it’s the brightest thing in the club, laughing as the girl flips her hair and touches her hand and tells some joke that’s obviously not as funny as anything A’whora could say. She wonders if she’s ever made Tayce smile like that. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but she can’t remember.

“You know they used to use Jaeger as cough medicine? And for ages it was drunk by, like…old Tories who went on deer hunts,” Tia reels off excitably, and A’whora can’t help but roll her eyes affectionately at her friend’s bizarre general knowledge. “There’s this rumour that it’s got deer’s blood in it.”

Bimini splutters, coughs, and chokes all at once. As Lawrence slaps their back entirely too roughly in a way that’s about as helpful as a water gun at a house fire, A’whora can’t help but turn to face Tia incredulously.

“What the fuck did you say that for?!”

Tia shrugs, too tipsy to register A’whora’s disbelief. “Fun fact.”

“You didn’t think to pipe up with that when Bims was asking if it was vegan?”

“It’s just a rumour!” Tia says defensively, then turns to Bimini to check they’re okay. A’whora huffs in exasperation, folding her arms and throwing her back against the supposedly cushioned walls of the booth. As she stares straight ahead and ignores the fuss her friends are making, her eyes fall on Tayce again and her heart hurts more than it should to see her with her phone out and the girl beside her doing the same. They’re so clearly swapping numbers. They’re allowed to swap numbers. It’s not like A’whora’s got dibs on Tayce, it’s not like she’s got any right to feel a burn in her stomach and a flame in her heart and a feeling of something slipping away.

“Right!” Lawrence all but yells, forcing A’whora to tear her eyes away. “I’ve finished my Jaegerbomb, Mum, can we get tequila now?”

Ellie sighs. “Fine! But you’re buying me this one, bitch.”

“I’ll come with,” A’whora says, thinking she’ll need at least ten more units of alcohol to stop feeling feelings.  

“We’re going for a boogie, catch us up,” Bimini decides, as Rhythm is a Dancer blasts on the overhead speakers and Tia lets out a whooo! that’s way too white for a mixed-race girl.

So they move, A’whora bum-shuffling her way out of the booth and following Lawrence and Ellie, her feet sore in her heels. She purposefully blocks Tayce out of her peripheral vision as she leans against the bar, but she’s only separated from her by about six people also waiting and if she tilted her head forward she could definitely catch her eye if she wanted.

“Rhythm is a dancer, two for one at Asda,” Ellie sings along, bopping her head enthusiastically. A’whora laughs weakly, her proximity to Tayce and that bitch she’s talking to entirely too distracting.

“Shut your hole and tell me what you’re wanting,” Lawrence orders her. Ellie drums the palms of her hands against the bar as she semi-shouts sambucaaaaa, and A’whora asks for a vodka. She’s aware she’s mixing entirely too many spirits and her hangover tomorrow will be potentially life-threatening, but she doesn’t care.

“Tayce is still there. Should we shout her over and see what she wants?” Ellie suggests, craning her neck. A’whora firmly shakes her head.

“She’s wanting that baby Hulk she’s been talking to all night, apparently,” she all but spits, shocking herself at her venom. It’s clear she shocks the girls as well, and Lawrence turns around and simply raises her eyebrows at her.

“Men’s dress trousers in a hotel.”

A’whora can only blink. “What?”

Lawrence pauses for dramatic effect (or perhaps that’s just the Jaegerbomb making its alcohol content known). She points a finger at A’whora, then finishes whatever point she’s making. “Pressed.”

“Purrr!” Ellie laughs in agreement, grabbing A’whora’s shoulder and shaking it in an action that’s probably meant to be gentle but almost shakes her bone out of its socket. “Oh my God, that totally explains why you’ve been such a bitch all night.”

“This wee cow’s been a bitch her whole life,” Lawrence joins in. A’whora knows she’s got a proper face on by now, Dot Cotton licking piss off a nettle, but she can’t help it. She hates being wound up and she makes this perfectly clear to her friends via her furious silence.

“Nah, but tonight she’s a jealous bitch,” Ellie sticks her tongue out at her, and A’whora huffs.

“I’m not jealous!” she lies. “I’m just pissed off that she comes on a night out with us and she spends it talking to some random bitch she barely knows instead of her friends.”

“Wait. Oh my God, do you fancy Tayce?” Lawrence asks, a bull in a china shop on cocaine. Before A’whora can defend herself Ellie barks a laugh.

“Aw Lauzza, come on to fuck! Have you ever walked in when it’s been just the two of them? They’re so fucking flirty it’s disgusting.”

“DISGUSTEN!” Lawrence shouts, and it goes about ten percent of the way to drawing A’whora out of her mood.

“I don’t flirt with Tayce! I don’t fancy her either!” A’whora cries, exasperated. She realises too-late that her volume may have been too loud, but when she looks over at the topic of conversation again she’s both disappointed and relieved to see that she hasn’t registered a thing. “Anyway, you know you can’t shag your flatmate. It’s like the first rule of having flatmates. It would just make everything awkward.”  

“That the only thing stopping you?” Lawrence looks at her pointedly.  

“The bartender’s free,” A’whora glances just over Lawrence’s shoulder, and she turns around so fast it almost makes her feel dizzy. While Lawrence orders it leaves Ellie to turn to A’whora and pat her hand sympathetically.

“Why don’t you just go up to her?” she suggests. “I mean would it be so bad if you did just shag and get the pent-up tension released and then you can both just move on? I mean it’s not like you want to be her girlfriend or anything.”

A’whora presses her lips together and doesn’t reply. Her silence seems to communicate too much as Ellie’s mouth drops open a little and she fixes her with a pointed stare. “Oh, A’whora.”

“Look, I don’t know,” A’whora rushes to defend herself, her words spilling out over themselves in the way they sometimes do when she’s tipsy. “Like obviously she’s gorgeous but also, like…I do like her as a person as well, and I like being around her and just enjoying her company-”

Ellie splutters a giggle. “Enjoying her company, are you eighty years old in a care home?”

“I’m gonna slap you in a minute, shut up!” A’whora laughs incredulously. “But, like, I just…I don’t know if she likes me back like that, you know?

Ellie frowns. “I think, then, my advice would be…don’t shag her if you don’t think you can keep it to just that. ‘Cause obviously you don’t want to end up getting hurt.”

“Right, yeah,” A’whora replies, nodding.

If she’s honest, she’s disappointed. Obviously she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to sleep with Tayce- because fucking look at her- but just like Ellie said, she knows she would end up getting hurt if anything happened between them. Tayce would probably consider it a one-time thing and A’whora would be let down, or it would turn into some long, drawn-out friends with benefits scenario that would probably make everything worse.

The thing is she can only repress her feelings so much and tonight she’s feeling like one of Ellie’s cans of Monster that Tia shook up as a joke and ended up spurting out its contents so violently that there’s still a green-blue stain on their kitchen wall. A’whora’s way too close to telling the girls about every time she’s pictured her and Tayce falling asleep together and waking up together, every time she’s imagined them planning actual dates, every time she’s wanted to kiss her on the sofa- not necessarily even a kiss kiss but just a peck on the cheek, a soft one pressed to the crown of her head, a little one against their knuckles as they hold hands.

It all sounds ridiculous and silly and way too high school. Nothing seems to work the same at uni. Everyone just seems to shag, hook up, kiss strangers they’ll never see again in the shadows of grimy clubs. Everything seems to happen when everyone’s drunk. Everything’s done out of lust rather than love. Everything is so short-term because you can’t plan for the long term if you wake up and don’t remember the night before.

A’whora loves uni, but she doesn’t like that.

Besides, she’s already done all that in high school anyway. Sixth form had been like a crash course in freshers’ week; if she wasn’t drinking in parks or going to house parties she was sneaking into nightclubs using a fake ID that even Stevie Wonder could’ve seen right through. She’d half-heartedly slept with boys and figured out she liked girls when a sleepover after a party took a turn. She’d tried smoking and she came to the conclusion that she didn’t like it enough to buy her own cigarettes, she’d tried mandy once and that was once too much for her. All of that has prepared her well for uni- she’s street smart and has her head screwed on (for the most part- she’s still testing her limits as far as alcohol’s concerned). But feeling like she’s feeling for Tayce is uncharted territory, and out of everything she’s already done and experienced A’whora finds it hard to believe there’s not an age limit on this sort of thing because it all feels more risky and dangerous than smoking roll-ups in a children’s playpark at one in the morning ever did.

A wayheyyy! from Lawrence cuts through her thoughts and she accepts the shot she’s holding out to her, wordlessly clinking it together with Lawrence’s and Ellie’s and slamming it back as if it’s some form of medicine she desperately needs.

“It’s so weird that you don’t do the whole lime and salt thing,” Ellie wrinkles her nose at her friend, who in turn punches one of her own tits with what seems to be pride.

“‘Cause I’m made of strong stuff, babes. Right, what’s the conclusion on this one? Does she fancy Tayce or no?”

“Surely this is a bathroom stall conversation?” A’whora pouts, annoyed that her feelings for Tayce have been brought back up.

As Ellie relays to Lawrence what she’d said to A’whora, A’whora momentarily wonders if she’s in control of anything in her life any more.

Lawrence nods when Ellie’s done. “Smart advice. ‘Cause it would make things awkward for the flat. ‘Magine trying to make a Pot Noodle in the middle of a live-action episode of Eastenders.”

A’whora screws her face up in confusion. “All episodes of Eastenders are live action?”

“Y’know what the fuck I mean,” Lawrence rolls her eyes in exasperation. “Well we’ve given you our blessing and basically we represent the whole country, so. Go for it.”

“Thanks, Nicola Sturgeon, good to know I have your approval,” A’whora smirks at her, amused. When some Becky Hill song comes on over the speakers she takes it as her cue to smooth down her skirt, flip her hair over her shoulder and rest her little shot glass back on the bar. “Right, we going to have a dance or what?”

As she takes her friends’ hands they all but strut over to the dancefloor, and A’whora can see Bimini and Tia pulling shapes that they probably think make them look mysterious and sexy but actually just make them look as drunk as they no doubt are. Before A’whora can push through the crowd, Lawrence tugs her and Ellie back a bit.

“Here, I think I’ve remembered something Tayce told me once, if this is of any use to you?” she begins.

All of A’whora’s nerve endings light up like one of those colourful optical fiber lamps she had when she was small. Her eyes have clearly flown open and her mouth’s dropped slack without her even having to try, so desperate is she for what Lawrence is about to tell her. Ellie’s beside her equally expectant and anticipative, and Lawrence laughs at the pair of them before she continues.

“It was the pair of us and Tia…Christ, when was it…cannae mind. Think you’d gone home for the weekend and Ellie was doing something wi’ Bims…anyway, coupla’ bottles of wine in and we start playing wee stupid games. We’re doing snog, marry, avoid and Tia gives her…fuck, cannae even remember. Let’s say it was Ellie, Bimini and you. Now I can’t remember what she said for the other two but…” Lawrence pauses dramatically, and A’whora is a hair’s breadth away from practically begging her for the information she’s taking so long to impart. “…she said she would marry you because then she’d get to shag you more than just once.”

A’whora doesn’t think her eyes can go any wider but she somehow manages it. She doesn’t really know how to react but Ellie’s doing enough screaming to suffice for the two of them.

“When the fuck were you gonna tell us that?! Fuck, I can’t believe you never told me that! When did this happen?!” Ellie practically screeches in her face.

“Telt you I cannae mind! Maybe like…a month ago? I don’t know,” Lawrence supplies unhelpfully. Usually A’whora would try to rip the piss out of the way her accent’s gone ten times more Braveheart than usual after her series of drinks, but all she can think about is what she’s been told and, well…she can’t help the butterflies in her heart and the way a satisfied, triumphant grin spreads slowly onto her face.

Ellie’s equally as excited beside her. She whacks A’whora on the arm as she squeals with enthusiasm. “See! Now we know she likes you too!”

A’whora feels as if she’s made of glitter and confetti as she spins around in the direction of the bar. Her heart gives a dip on its rollercoaster of emotions as she sees that Tayce has somehow caught the attention of a different girl- long, dark hair and a blue and orange outfit and a mouth that’s moving at about a mile a minute.

There’s a second before A’whora makes to turn away in disappointment when Tayce’s pupils suddenly flick over to rest on her. Tayce’s self-assured expression and body language seem to falter when she catches A’whora’s eye, and she shoots her a little smile that- if A’whora didn’t know the girl better- she’d say was shy.

“Now the challenge is actually getting a chance to talk to her,” A’whora pouts. Chatting up Tayce and maybe getting to fall into bed with her really isn’t a time-sensitive issue; it doesn’t need to happen tonight, but A’whora’s had a chaotic combination of alcohol that makes her think there’s really no time like the present and hey, maybe this is her one and only chance.

“Well, we can keep an eye on her and when she’s free, then that’s your chance,” Ellie smiles, supportive and excited.

“What chat-up line are you gonnae use? I’ve got a cracker you can have if you want,” Lawrence insists, and A’whora and Ellie share a doubtful look.

“Go on.”

“What did one haggis say to the other haggis?” Lawrence begins. Without giving the other girls a chance to interject, she finishes. “…’Gonnae shaggis?’ ”

“And on that note,” Ellie shakes her head and rolls her eyes, taking both of them by the hand and pulling them into the crowd to join their other friends.

It’s amazing how easy it is to forget about the object of her affection chatting to random girls on the other side of the room when Bimini’s grabbing her and almost launching her across the dancefloor with their euphoric pogo-ing along to each and every song that gets played. The five of them drunkenly bum-ba-ba, bum-ba-ba along to Head & Heart and cheer for Tia when she does Nicki’s rap in Swalla without even stopping for breath. A’whora laughs in confusion with the other girls as Lawrence and Ellie get way too excited, squealing and clutching each others’ hands when some clubland tune that’s apparently much bigger in Scotland than it is in the other three corners of the UK gets put on, the lyrics of which seem to consist solely of the words up-up-up and awayyy. Bimini and Lawrence collect more drinks from the bar and A’whora very nearly knocks Ellie’s out of her hand when Friday comes on and she punches the air.

And then Tayce is on her own.

A’whora’s heart almost siezes up with how fast it jolts into full-blown palpitations because this is the moment she can finally go over and talk to her, the chance to turn their friendship into maybe something more even if that something more is only a random hookup after a night out, but it only takes the time for her to shake Ellie’s arm and point in Tayce’s direction for her to see that, yet again, she’s been approached by someone tall and confident and stunning and everything that A’whora wishes Tayce thought about her.

Her face falls and Ellie snaps her fingers in her line of vision, forcing her to look at her and the motherly expression of tough love she’s wearing.

“Hey. When has anyone ever stopped you getting your own way?” she yells at her over the music, and A’whora laughs half in amusement and half in agreement. As she falls silent, Ellie jerks her head towards the bar. “Go get her, bitch.”

It might be the alcohol, but it hits A’whora with a ironically sobering clarity that Ellie’s right.

So she takes a breath in and struts confidently over to the bar, practically able to feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins (although that could well be the caffeine from the second Jaegerbomb she’s downed this evening with Bimini’s encouragement). She smooths down her skirt so the split runs up the front of her thigh and not the side, adjusts the neck of her top so it’s framing her chest the way she wants it to. She could be nervous but the combined alcohol she’s drunk so far this evening pushes that feeling to the back of her head, replacing it with all-consuming confidence that she can feel from the inside out. She looks good, better than good, and she knows she can flirt even though she’s never really tried to flirt with Tayce. Well, never intentionally.

Okay, that’s maybe a lie.

The realisation that she’s actually going through with this is enough to make her want to freeze to the spot but by some miracle she’s still walking forward until she’s three, two, one steps away from her flatmate and the girl at the bar with too much plastic surgery and hair the shade of a vomit-coloured highlighter pen. A’whora wedges her shoulder in between the pair of them, hears the girl give a little tut/sigh hybrid from behind her but A’whora’s not really interested in bickering with her, not when Tayce’s eyes have fallen on her and she’s looking at her, really looking at her with a little playful smile on her painted lips.

“Hey baby boo,” Tayce says by way of a greeting, and A’whora feels her heart melt just a little. She’s being adorable, but she’s not going to let that damage her confident, composed exterior. Until Tayce follows up by running a hand down her arm and lacing their fingers together. “I haven’t seen you all night, I missed you.”

With that, A’whora feels the little cocky smirk she’s wearing break out into a shy grin, one that she hopes doesn’t look as ridiculously goofy as it feels. “Well. Maybe you would’ve seen more of me if you hadn’t been playing Take Me Out with half the bloody girls in here.”

“Who, me?” Tayce gasps, clutching the gold chain around her neck and pretending to be affronted. A’whora doesn’t mean to roll her eyes but she clearly does, and the small giggle she draws out of Tayce as a result makes it almost worth it. The squeeze Tayce gives her hand turns that almost into a definitely, as does what Tayce follows up with. “You’re cute when you’re jealous, you know.”

“You’re cute…all the time,” A’whora claps back, wishing she had some sort of drink in her hand to press against her face as she feels her blush start to bloom across her cheeks.

“I know, babe, that’s why I’ve been getting my drinks bought for me all night,” Tayce winks.

If Awhora uses that as a signal to pull her bank card from her bra, that’s nobody’s business but her own. The way Tayce’s gaze flicks to her chest lights a match in her heart. “Well…let me buy you one and then you won’t have to miss me so much.”

Tayce’s awed smile spreads slowly onto her face and they agree on tequila shots, the phase of the evening where they were nursing their drinks left firmly in the dust as the bartender hands them a salt shaker, two little shot glasses and two wedges of lime. The way Tayce’s tongue slides over the side of her hand before she sprinkles the salt and the way their eyes meet as she licks it up makes A’whora’s mouth dry, so the tequila’s welcome for a split second before she remembers why she hates it, the flavour and sheer strength of the alcohol akin to being hit by a truck.  

As she grabs desperately for the lime like it’s an oxygen mask on a crash-landing plane, Tayce laughs and shakes her head pityingly. “You always end up ordering tequila and you always, always hate it.”

A’whora blinks as she composes herself, gives a little shiver of recovery. She cocks her head at Tayce inquisitively. “I didn’t know you remembered that.”

Tayce looks to the ground as she smiles, tucks a piece of her long hair behind her ear. It’s endearing and soft and it makes A’whora panic, so she presses her lips together and raises an eyebrow at Tayce questioningly. “So, how’d your little episode of Blind Date go anyway?“

"Gosh, you’re really pressed about this, aren’t you?” Tayce’s eyes are narrow as she smirks at her, and now it’s A'whora’s turn to look embarrassed. The soft laugh Tayce gives is reassuring so A'whora’s gaze drifts back up again and their eyes meet as she speaks again. “Well, there was, uh…blonde lady. Blonde lady with the muscles and the eyeliner. God, what was her name?”

“This is off to a flying start.”

“Kameron!” Tayce yells in her face as she remembers. It makes A’whora snort with laughter, something that’s probably wildly unattractive but she knows Tayce has seen her do it before. “And then there was, uh, Priyanka. I remember her name because she kept telling me every two minutes. That was a wild conversation.”

“Uh-huh. Who was the bitch I elbowed out the way?”

Tayce smirks at her, wobbles a little in her heels and steadies herself against the bar. “That was…Detox.”

“Radox?”

Tayce splutters. “Detox!”

“Should’ve called herself Botox, would’ve been nearer to the mark,” A’whora turns up her top lip. Tayce explodes in an outraged laugh beside her, clutches her wrist in a way that makes A’whora hope she won’t be able to feel her rapid pulse.

“Says Aurora Georgia Boyle, who asked for lip fillers for her eighteenth and was actually allowed to get them!”

“Don’t full name me, piece of shit!” A’whora gasps in mock-offence, shakes herself away from Tayce’s grip but finds her inexplicably nearer to her than she was before. She’s not necessarily complaining, though, because her whole left side is against Tayce’s right and there’s some form of other-worldly magnetism that seems to keep them pressed together. It makes her heart flutter so she tucks a section of hair behind her ear before she frowns. “I never told you that. How come you know that?”

“You did tell me! Back in freshers week! You just don’t remember,” Tayce giggles, poking her cheek with one acrylic nail. It should hurt more than it does. Maybe it does hurt and A’whora can’t feel it. She’s had a lot to drink.

It’s the alcohol she blames when she hooks an arm around Tayce’s waist, tilts her head and drops her volume to a murmur. “You seem to remember a lot of things about me.”

Tayce’s eyes widen just that little bit. “Well you’re a bit of an unforgettable person, really.”

Her words make A’whora’s heart light up so much that she can feel herself glowing from the inside out. She brings her other arm around Tayce in a tight hug, her hands joining at the small of her back, and Tayce mirrors her so they’re both anchoring each other. It’s hard for her to remember whether they’ve ever shared a hug like this before. It seems too intimate for friends, but A’whora doesn’t mind.

“Tayce.”

“Rory,” Tayce replies, mimicking her whine and the way she draws her name out. A’whora likes the nickname she gives her probably more than she should; she supposes it’s because only Tayce uses it and because it’s rooted in her actual given name.

A’whora pouts, squeezes Tayce’s waist. “I missed you tonight, you know.”

“Missed you too. Missed you so much,” Tayce murmurs back.

She’s already said it, A’whora knows she’s already said it, but with the way they’re both gazing at each other it seems to mean something more, something different. It’s ridiculous- they’re both drunk, and famously no good decisions have ever happened when two people have had this many assorted shots, but somehow it feels like all of this is just right.  

A’whora drops her head to rest it on Tayce’s shoulder and she feels her arms tighten around her in response. Her lips graze her neck as she murmurs against it. “Not leaving me again.”

There’s a pause where she can’t really see Tayce’s expression or how she’s reacted. Her heart freezes, and the terror and reality of having crossed the line between friendship and whatever the hell this is suddenly consumes her whole body. She’s relieved, then, when Tayce eventually mutters against the crown of her head.

“All yours, baby.”

And she presses a kiss to her hair. Just like A’whora’s been dreaming about for so long.

She feels giddy and dizzy with absolute euphoria, so it’s that she blames when she puts her lips against Tayce’s neck again and plants one, two, three little kisses there in quick succession.

“Tayce,” she whispers again. She doesn’t really know what she wants to say or how to say it, but she knows she doesn’t want to go back to the dancefloor, and she doesn’t want to be with their other friends. She just wants her and Tayce together for however long she’ll let it be that way, and she doesn’t even care about the busy bar or the drunk students that bump into them every so often or the stares from the rowdy group of rugby lads that would usually make her feel intimidated, but not when she’s with Tayce.

When she’s with Tayce everything seems a little bit better somehow, just by her being there.

So maybe it’s that, or maybe it’s the tequila, or maybe it’s the feeling of having Tayce’s arms around her that makes A’whora tilt her head back up again and meet Tayce’s waiting lips with her own. There’s none of the usual hesitation or awkward pause that comes with kissing someone new because really the amount of times A’whora’s imagined this, dreamt about it, thought about it in daydreams that completely unhook her from reality, it’s as if it’s happened before.

Nothing has prepared her for the real thing though. How Tayce brings a hand up to rest at her jaw and how the other stays placed against the bare skin of her back, warm and supportive. How the both of them sway a little, unsteady in their heels as if they’ve been knocked for six. How Tayce’s body is close against hers and A’whora pushes a hand in her hair in an attempt to somehow bring her even closer. How kissing Tayce leaves her breathtaken and satisfied yet somehow amplifies her feeling of longing, because the more she gives to her the more A’whora wants and with every second that Tayce’s lips are on hers she can only feel the heat that’s pooling in her stomach growing more and more intense.

When Tayce pulls away and A’whora can only catch her breath, she fixes her with a lazy, half-lidded smile that makes her insides turn to melted honey.

“That was nice,” she blinks, and she’s a second away from kicking herself- because, really?- when Tayce giggles softly under her breath. She brushes a little piece of A’whora’s hair off her face, and the gentleness of the action throws her a little. A’whora brings her arms up to loop around her neck, and she leans in close again. “I wanna do it again.”

“I want to do…a lot of things. With you,” Tayce says, casual and chill as if her words haven’t just sent A’whora up in flames.

“Like…?”

“Like…maybe come back to mine and I’ll show you, baby.”

The whole moment’s perfect enough for A’whora to almost overlook the blunder Tayce has just made, but her nature dictates that she can’t let her get away with it. “We…we live together.”

Tayce lets out a snort, bumps her forehead against A’whora’s as she despairs of herself. “Right. Well…we gonna go home, then?”

A’whora doesn’t need to be asked twice. She laces her fingers in Tayce’s, resolves to text the others to tell them they’ve left, and stumbles towards the exit with her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

When she blinks, she’s tired, she’s in bed, it’s bright, and she’s confused as all hell.

The headache hits her like a sledgehammer to the face and she blinks slowly and heavily, adjusting herself to her surroundings. She’s in her own room, she can tell that much from the photos of her and her friends from back home on the cupboard and the fairy lights on her desk that aren’t switched on. Her mouth feels like a badger’s shat in it and her eyes are all achey, and as she throws an arm up to rub at them she’s surprised when she doesn’t see any leftover eye makeup on the back of her hand.

“The kraken awakes.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” A’whora flinches, her head whipping over to the foot of her bed to find Tayce sitting cross-legged leaning against the wall, her phone in her hand. She’s wearing her old leggings with the bleach stains and the hole at the calf, and a purple tie-dye sweatshirt that’s a size too big for her. Her hair’s loose and framing her face and the only makeup she has on is the little scattering of eyeliner that’s hanging tight to her lash line and has managed to escape the makeup wipe.

She looks disarmed and shy. There’s something comforting about it, because A’whora feels confused and completely on the back foot and she has no idea what’s going on. But there’s a warm smile on her face and it meets her eyes, so despite her disorientation A’whora feels safe.

“How long’ve you been there? Were you just watching me sleep like some…creepy Twilight vampire?” A’whora groans, sitting up and leaning forward and taking a deep breath as if it’ll make her headache go away.

Tayce laughs in a way that makes A’whora think the question’s flustered her, but she’s not sure. “The others went to get breakfast. I said I’d stay with you. Didn’t want you to be on your own feeling like shit and maybe having the fear.”

“I am having the fear. I don’t even know how we got home.”

The way Tayce’s face drops in what looks like abject panic makes her wonder what did happen last night. “Wait. What do you actually remember?”

A’whora’s heart is racing as she scans her mind for memories. Pres, club, drinks, booth. Tayce talking to some girl. Dancefloor. Tayce. Talking to Tayce. Kissing Tayce-

Kissing Tayce.

“Oh, no,” A’whora blurts out involuntarily. Her eyes are wide as she looks at Tayce. “We…did we? We did?”

Tayce’s face seems to relax as she bursts out laughing, and it all comes flooding back to A’whora and hits her like a train. Everything that had seemed like such a good idea last night now seems like the most awkward situation in the world now that Tayce is here, on her bed, and they’re both sober.

“Tayce, no,” A’whora whines, putting her head in her hands as her friend keeps laughing. “No! That’s so awkward. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, it was a good kiss,” Tayce smiles back, somehow both coy and self-assured at once. It’s her reaction that causes a new wave of cold horror to crash against A’whora, a wave on a rock.

“Oh, Jesus. Did anything else happen?”

Tayce grows animated. “God, yeah, we had the best sex ever. Sixty-nines, scissoring, we got the vibrators involved. It was bloody lush.”

A’whora’s too hungover to realise that Tayce is winding her up until she screeches with laughter right in her horrified face. “Oh my God, Rory, your face! No I’m joking, ‘course I’m joking.”

“Thank fuck,” A’whora sighs a world-weary sigh of relief, throwing herself back down against her pillows and immediately regretting it for the way her brain ricochets against her skull and makes her headache ten times worse. “So what did happen?”

“Well, you wanted to walk back because you wanted to look at the stars, so when we got to the square we lay down and looked at the stars for a bit. And then I wanted to go get chips and cheese but you were dragging me back home because you were so horny,” Tayce looks at her pointedly, and A’whora groans with embarrassment, grabbing her pillow and shoving it over her face. “But then after we got up the stairs and in through the door you said you felt sick, so I then had to hold your hair back while you threw up last night’s pasta bake and what looked to be about fifty different kinds of alcohol into the toilet bowl. Then I had to put you to bed and stay up half the night making sure you didn’t choke on your own tongue while you were asleep. Best one night stand I’ve ever had.”

When A’whora takes the pillow away, Tayce winks at her. She feels like putting the pillow back.

“I’m honestly so sorry,” she pouts. She is sorry. Part of her wishes she could at least properly remember what it had felt like to kiss Tayce. All the memories of the moment are much too paper-thin and flimsy, butterfly wings that’re all too rapidly flying away. Tayce isn’t giving her any cause to be embarrassed, but A’whora is anyway.

So she’s not sure what Tayce is going to say when she leans forward, takes her hand and gives it a squeeze. “Go brush your teeth.”

A’whora thinks she might be the first person in history to have cause of death: cringe written on her birth certificate. “You’re really adding insult to injury, aren’t you? Telling me all the embarrassing shit I did while I was off my face and then basically telling me my breath smells like dog shite.”

Tayce laughs as she shakes her head. “Just go do it, idiot.”

She’s never been one to say no to Tayce so A’whora drags herself out from under her duvet towards the little sink tucked away in the corner of her room, the cold chill of the freezing air hitting her bare arms and her feet and rendering her even more miserable. It’s only when she’s halfway through scrubbing at her teeth when it registers that she’s even got pyjamas on.

“Did you have to put my pyjamas on for me?” A’whora asks around her toothbrush, realising all too late that trying to talk through a mouthful of toothpaste is probably as unattractive as vomiting into the toilet bowl.

(The toilet bowl is definitely worse, but she’s just thinking this to help herself feel better.)

Tayce looks up from her phone and raises an eyebrow. “Nah, you managed to do it yourself. You did make me watch you put your stick-on bra on your forehead, though. Apparently it was the funniest thing in the world.”

A’whora just groans as she turns back to the sink, spitting out the toothpaste and following it with mouthwash just to completely clean her mouth of the various alcoholic sins of the night before. She crawls back into bed with a wearied sigh, and she’s surprised when Tayce falls on her side and scoots up beside her, laying on her side and facing her so their noses are almost touching. A’whora feels her heart lift and her pulse speed up, and it’s not helped by the way Tayce reaches out and tucks a little piece of hair behind her ear.  

Tayce trails her fingers across to cup A’whora’s cheek, and she’s almost whispering when she speaks. “Thank God. Just wanted to do this again.”

When she leans in A’whora shuts her eyes, meets her halfway, and feels every cell in her body electrify when their lips touch. If kissing Tayce in a club when they were both drunk was good, then kissing her hungover in bed is somehow even better, and A’whora’s mystified at the way her headache seems to completely disappear with every second she spends with her lips on Tayce’s, kissing her gently and softly as if they’ve got all the time in the world. Tayce smells of everything comforting- Tresemme shampoo, snow fairy shower gel, the fabric softener she uses that’s way too expensive for a student budget. Fresh and clean and somehow new. It’s the simplest heaven A’whora has ever experienced.

Tayce pulls away and they both giggle, embarrassment and awkwardness gone now that the elephant in the room’s been addressed. A’whora only realises Tayce has taken her hand when she lets it go, pushes herself off the mattress and crosses the room towards the door.

“We should do that again some time,” she smiles wickedly by way of a goodbye, and A’whora can only nod bashfully in reply and agreement. Tayce has given her hope to hold on to, and she knows she’s going to cling to it ridiculously until whatever this is happens again.

She can’t wait.

Just as Tayce opens her door and A’whora resigns herself to her leaving, she lifts her head off the pillow when she hears her flatmate’s voice again as she disappears into the hallway.

“And go have a shower. You smell like tequila.”

[kim-bobbae]

88. “I’ll see you later.”

This is legit the first gif I’ve EVER made in my life cos I couldn’t find one of Jay looking hot bothered...like mad kinda bothered. Haha. I swear the only reason why I enjoy writing angst is so I can imagine Jay looking hot and shit (is that normal? am I weird??). But he’s such an angel... Like what in the world could he possibly be mad at his girl about??? I know the flow for this one is pretty similar to what I just posted recently, but it’s been in my drafts for a hot minute so I hope y’all enjoy this one nonetheless!

“I’m sorry. Can we please talk?” 

You sighed for what felt like the hundredth time of the day, burying your face in your hands as you threw you phone aside, already expecting Jay to ignore your texts again. It’s been two days since you’ve last seen or spoke to him, and the fact that you were going to see him at work in a few hours amidst the silent treatment was already making you dread it. 

The thing about Jay was that he wasn’t really one to get angry at anyone but when he did, he’d rather cool off alone while you, on the other hand, preferred to iron things out there and then. Then again, despite the little squabbles over the two years that the both of you had been together, there hasn’t been any particularly huge fight…until your dumbass decided that it was a great idea to get yourself drunk as fuck in front of your boyfriend and his colleagues while they performed at the club that you and your friends were drinking at, that is. 

“We can’t dare you to go up there and make out with him, can we?” Your best friend challenged, downing another shot. 

“C’mon, what do you think?” You replied, shrugging her off. 

“Then it’s no fun, why are we even here if we can’t dare you and Jay to do shit!” Another chimed in. 

Your friends were in town for a few days and having not met them for a few years since your graduation in London, you took the opportunity to take them out for dinner where one of them suggested a round of drinks after. Jay who had been scheduled to perform at Soap then offered to book you guys a table and here you guys were, wilding it out on a Friday night with a game of truth or dare after having a shot too many. 

From making out to dancing with strangers, your friends were definitely taking this game more seriously than you had expected them to, especially when you were pretty bad with alcohol yourself and had to down shots one after another when none of their dares for you even seemed logical. Sure, they had toned it down taking into consideration that you were attached hence sparing you from going up to random dudes on the dance floor, but with how some of their ideas were literally out of this world, you were left with no choice but to drink continuously and very soon you were more drunk than you’d like to be. 

“Well, he felt bad that he couldn’t join us so he tried to make up for it. Plus points for a VIP table, no?” You tried reasoning. 

While you tried to be a good sport and answered some of their prying questions about your relationship with your superstar boyfriend, some were inevitably too personal to be answered – not that you really minded, but you were pretty sure Jay wouldn’t be too pleased if you were to spill the beans on your sex life. You were thus left with no choice but to chug shots after shots and in no time, you were too intoxicated for your own good. 

At this point, your vision was a blur and you could literally hear your heart throbbing in sync with the bass of the music playing in the background. Yet, your last bit of consciousness managed to miraculously bring you and your friends to the dance floor. Jay’s voice in the distance as he performed had your body automatically grooving to the music, a stupid drunk smile plastered on your face as you threw your hands up and moved your hips without caring about how ridiculous you looked at this point. 

Egged on by your friends who were in no better states of mind than you were, everything about that situation got you more excited…except you weren’t the only one as a man who had been dancing near you came up close behind you, his hands very enthusiastically helping themselves to the curves on your body as he grinded against your ass. 

You weren’t sober enough to make sense of the situation and it wasn’t until you felt his hands tug at the hem of your blouse did you snap your head up, catching a glimpse of a very unamused Jay through the slits of neon lights in your hazy vision did you finally realize what was going on and the next thing you knew, you remembered being pulled out of the club, the rest a distant memory. 

You debated on the idea of turning up at the office a little earlier in hopes of at least speaking to Jay before the photoshoot and despite the several ‘what if’s, you decided to do just that because no, you wouldn’t be able to just turn up to work, putting on makeup and doing his hair in front of everyone else, pretending that everything was perfectly fine between the both of you. 

A tray of coffee in hand, you knocked on the door to the meeting room where Jay and some of the guys were chilling, taking a deep breath before you entered the room. 

“Hey,” You started, glancing briefly at Jay – to which he looked right back at you – before smiling at Kiseok and Wegun. 

“How are you?” Wegun greeted you, a warm smile on his face as usual. “What brings you here?” 

“Jay has a magazine shoot in a bit, thought I’d just drop by with some coffee since it’s been a while since I last spoke to you guys,” You replied. 

“Well you could’ve spoken to them after the show that day if Dukhwa didn’t have to drag you out of the club,” Jay spoke, his expressionless gaze on you unwavering. 

You sighed, “Do you mind if we talk outside for a second?” 

Sensing the tension in the air, Kiseok whispered at him to cut it out but to no avail as Jay ignored your request and continued, “Did you really have to get yourself in that mess while I was performing? What were you thinking?” 

You bit your lip, lowering your head in embarrassment as Jay literally lectured you in front of his colleagues. Yet, the fact that he had decided to have this conversation in front of them angered you for a bit. Sure, you screwed up, but did you really deserve to be humiliated in front of them yet again after what they had witnessed at the club two days ago? What was he even trying to prove? 

“…we’ll leave you guys to talk,” Wegun spoke, signalling at Kiseok and getting up from his seat. 

“It’s fine, there’s no point if he’s just going to be like that,” You interrupted, then stalked out of the room. 

You were just trying to be professional about it, hoping to resolve the feud before you guys had to face each other at work because like it or not, despite the perks that came with dating and working together, it was times like these that truly made you wish you didn’t have to see him at work. 

It ticked you off even more realizing that the entire situation had only snowballed purely because he was being such a kid about calling you out in front of his colleagues for it. They were, after all, your coworkers too and his petty tantrums were completely uncalled for. 

Needless to say, you were fuming throughout the shoot. You tried your best to keep your composure as you did his makeup, though the rest of the staff had noticed that you were quieter than usual and that you had refused any eye contact with Jay throughout the whole time you were getting him ready for the shoot. With the little saga earlier at the office being your first time on the receiving end of Jay’s hostility, you wanted nothing more than to be done with the shoot without any more drama. 

This being the longest you guys have gone without speaking to each other despite being in the same space had Jay feeling a little conscious of you by now, sneaking glances at you from time to time. He’d watch the way you’d squint at the monitor as you observed the pictures carefully, then step in to put strands of his hair back in place every now and then. Your jaw was clenched the entire time, face void of any expression compared to your usual chipper self that he was used to seeing and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t beginning to regret what he started earlier. 

“You okay?” He whispered as you dabbed the beauty blender under his eyes. 

You ignored him, exhaling deeply as you finished off with some loose powder. 

“Ji Eun.” 

“I don’t wanna talk. Not now. Not after I tried to resolve this earlier this morning and especially not after the shit you pulled on me.” You fired back at him in a hushed whisper, then turned your back against him as you walked back behind the camera. 

He sighed, then briefly stretched his neck and went right back to work – not without glancing at you once more. Jay being a natural in front of the camera as always thankfully allowed the shoot to wrap up in a few short hours and you couldn’t be more relieved to retreat back into the dressing room, away from Jay’s piercing gazes but the respite was short lived as Jay cracked the door open slowly, the both of you making the first brief second of eye contact in the several hours of the shoot before you looked away and started packing up. 

“Let me help you with that,” He said, walking towards you. 

You didn’t reply, putting away the brushes and palettes. 

“Babe-” 

“What?” 

He pressed his lips together, slightly taken aback by your little outburst before gesturing for you to hand him the bags in your hands. 

“Don’t lecture me in front of your colleagues then pull a sweet boyfriend shit after. Make up your fucking mind,” You said. 

“I don’t know what got into my mind this morning…” He trailed, his gaze on you softening as he watched how tears were beginning to well up in your eyes. 

You didn’t even know why you were crying. You were mad, so mad, but you hated how weak you were for him every damn time. 

You looked away, tilting your head back in an attempt to stop the tears. The last thing you wanted was to cry in front him. As much as you were upset, your screw up had started this whole mess and you knew very well that he’d feel that much worse if he was the reason for your tears. 

“I’m sorry,” He apologized, grabbing your hand to get you to look at him. 

“I tried resolving this nicely, texted you, and turned up earlier at work to apologize but you decided to be a dick about it. Yes, I fucked up. But no, I don’t deserve this,” You told him, shrugging his hand off as you busied yourself packing, tears blurring your vision by now as they rolled down your cheeks. 

“Hey c’mon,” He said, hands on your shoulders as he spun you around to face him then cupped your face, wiping away at your tears with his thumb. “Don’t cry...”

“I just wanted to talk. I don’t want to fight,” You told him, your voice coming out as a soft whisper. 

“Me neither.” 

He watched as you simply looked up at him, resignation evident in your bloodshot eyes and he leaned in to bring his lips to yours, desperate to draw a reaction – anything – from you to be reassured that everything was going to be okay. There he was, thinking he could diffuse the situation with a few sweet kisses after being an absolute asshole and you hated that it was working. 

You hated that you knew this was exactly how he was going to salvage the situation, as with all your other fights, yet here you were, kissing him like he didn’t piss the hell out of you just hours ago, as if he had not ignored your fifty calls and text messages over the past forty-eight hours. 

This wasn’t just an argument of who should be doing the dishes, nor about the time you turned up half an hour late to a date that he had painstakingly squeezed amidst his busy schedule all because you couldn’t find that one dress you were looking for and refused to wear anything else and you hated that despite the gravity of the situation, it didn’t take much for you to succumb to his sweet gestures. 

You pulled away as soon as he you felt his tongue pressing against your lips and he looked at you, a mix of worry and disappointment in his eyes. 

���I have to go,” You told him, gathering your belongings. 

“Don’t-” 

“I have another schedule to attend to, Wonjae’s shoot starts in two hours,” You explained. 

“I’ll pick you up from work.” 

“You don’t have to.” 

“I want to,” He said immediately, and the way you silently looked at him with an unreadable expression frustrated him to no end. 

He held your gaze with his own and for a while the both of you just stayed like that, his deep brown eyes pleading with yours for any form of reassurance and in all honesty, that was enough for you to want to put this all behind so that you guys could finally go back to having pizza on the couch and cuddling to sleep. 

You pressed your lips into tight line, giving him a small smile before you picked up your bags and walked right past him. 

“I’ll see you later,” He whispered, reaching his hand out to hold yours. 

And the little squeeze you gave in response before walking out of the room was just what he needed to hold up until he could see you again that night.

[musings-from-mars]

part 4 por favor? Maybe Ruby starts noticing the "tension" between Cinder and Blake and starts setting them up?

Freelance Love Triangle AU - Part 4

They arrived at the outdoor gallery, and Ruby was already zipping around here and there, thinking out loud about angles and framing, all while gushing about the art on display, choosing her favorites. “This is so cool!” She said to Blake and Cinder.

“It’s a lovely installation,” Cinder agreed, the corner of her mouth turned up. “Don’t you think so, Blake?”

It was a pretty magnificent showcase. Crude marble pillars of varying heights and widths stood in a seemingly random arrangement, each with art pieces hung on the sides. The pieces of 3D art stood in spaces between pillars. While there were two equally tall pillars that served as the “entrance” to the exhibition, it was open air and seemingly boundless, as the pillars became fewer and farther between the further from the center you moved.

At the very center of the gallery was a massive metal sculpture of what looked like a suit of armor, but it was matte black, and the plates of armor were spaced out from one another so it was easy to see right through the gaps. It stood on a concrete cube labeled “SOAPBOX” with “various artists” engraved underneath. The artists were making a point, and Blake’s mind raced trying to decipher what it might be.

But then Ruby started talking to Cinder, and that broke Blake’s focus immediately.

“The suit is faceless, and the armor having such obvious gaps indicates that the suit is vulnerable,” Cinder explained to Ruby as she looked up at the sculpture, which Ruby craning her neck to do the same. “Yet it stands on a soapbox, elevated and arrogant, despite the flaws in its defenses. I think it makes a point about the illusions of authority and strength of those in power, and the general populace’s compliance despite the obvious flaws that everyone can see if they look close enough.”

“Woah, that’s so cool…” Ruby murmured with wonder.

Blake didn’t want to feel as annoyed as she did, because Cinder’s take on it was pretty much exactly how Blake viewed the piece, but dammit, she wanted to impress Ruby too! She tried to come up with something original to say, but she didn’t want to sound desperate. Cinder was too smooth and eloquent.

“I imagine it took a long time to fashion the metal and assemble it, probably took several weeks, even for a team of artists,” Cinder pondered.

“If you were to get into contact with the artists, you might know for sure,” Blake remarked, not intending to sound so combative, but it was said. “There’s more to this than what the viewer can interpret. Anyone can come around here and write an article about what they think it all means in a day, but we’re putting together something bigger. We need testimonies from the artists, opinions of other creatives…”

Cinder had turned from the sculpture and was glaring at her, arms crossed over her chest. “Well, isn’t that why you’re here? You’re the networking specialist, after all.”

“It’s your project too, you know,” Blake said, stepping closer to her, then sort of regretting doing that now that she was close enough to smell her perfume. “I’m not doing all the interviews while you sit back and write down your opinions. You’ve got to pull your weight.”

“I’ve pulled plenty of weight. I haven’t even shown you the drafts I have yet,” Cinder countered, and for some reason thought it appropriate to smile at Blake. She looked down her nose a bit at her, making Blake resent Cinder’s slight height advantage. “After all, isn’t it only fair that I handle the majority of the writing, you acquire the testimonies, and Ruby handles the accompanying media? Let’s all do what we’re good at here, huh?”

Blake hated it when she made a good point. She wanted to counter-argue but she knew that would be counterproductive. “So I’m going have to handle all of the interviews? That will take up so much of my work time, you really will be on the hook for pretty much all of the writing.”

“Like I said, it’s what we’re good at,” Cinder repeated and shrugged. She leaned her weight on one leg in that sexy way that kind of pissed Blake off. “You think so, Ruby?”

Ruby had been silent the whole time, pressing her lips together as she stood by during the intense exchange. When she heard her name spoken, she snapped out of it a bit and blinked. “Oh, yeah, I think that’s a good idea. Uhm, Robyn wanted us to allocate, right?”

“Right,” Cinder agreed and nodded. “That was easy, we’ve already allocated. Wonderful job, team.”

If Blake gritted her teeth any harder she’d have to book a dentist appointment. Thankfully, Cinder took that moment to turn away from her and walk over to one of the gallery’s pillars, swaying her hips like an annoying exotic bird.

I hate you I hate you I haaaaate you—

“Ruby, I think if you got one of these pillars in the foreground with the sculpture in the background, that could maybe be a candidate for cover,” Cinder said.

Ruby hurried over to look at what she meant, leaving Blake standing next to Soapbox, shoulders slumped forward and her face burning hot.

Was getting cover worth it? Was getting to work with Ruby worth how insufferable and annoying aloof Cinder was? Blake was seriously considering it, but then she watched as Ruby giggled at something Cinder said, and she knew then that she had to stick with this, for whatever other reasons, but mostly to make sure Ruby and Cinder didn’t become a thing.

Was that shitty of her? Maybe. But the thought of that happening made her blood boil.

~~~

“How about I take you both for a drink?”

The offer felt like it came out of nowhere. The three of them were waiting on a bench not far from the gallery. Night had fallen, and while they had gotten plenty of photos and Blake had gotten the chance to take some notes about the various artists, it wasn’t that late. Blake was about to hail a rideshare because she just wasn’t in the mood to walk all the way home, but (while she kind of hated that she did), Blake considered Cinder’s offer.

“That sounds like fun, sure!” Ruby said. She sat between Blake and Cinder, tapping away at her laptop as she backed up the photos of the day. Even as time went on, she hadn’t lost any energy, which Blake was impressed by. She certainly couldn’t say the same for herself she was fresh out of college.

“Lovely,” Cinder said with a smile.

Well, if Ruby was going with Cinder, Blake was definitely going, too. “Sure. I could use a drink. But I’m not staying out late, nor should any of us. We’ve got more work to do tomorrow.”

Cinder nodded knowingly. “Just a little excursion. We’ll save the proper night out for Friday.” Blake couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. “I know I nice little bar near here. It’s the quaint type, for hipsters like us.”

Blake chuckled a bit at that. “Great, I love craft beer,” she said sarcastically.

“I’ve never had anything other than hard seltzer,” Ruby admitted with a shy chuckle. “Do they have that?”

“I’m sure they do, hun,” Cinder assured her with a smile that made the hairs on the back of Blake’s neck stand up.

Ruby rubbed the back of her neck bashfully as she shut her laptop, having finished saving her images. “Not to be a stereotypical gay or anything.”

Blake snorted a laugh, then blushed at the fact she’d snorted. “What, do gays like hard seltzer?”

“I guess?” Ruby shrugged, still blushing.

“I’m more of a red wine lesbian myself, we all have our tastes,” Cinder told her, her voice dripping with a flirtatious lull, as if she were already a glass deep.

Blake chewed on the inside of her mouth. She figured “whatever sounds good at the time bisexual” wouldn’t sound as sexy as red wine lesbian. Then again, she’d never had a hard seltzer. “I’ll get whatever you get, Ruby. I’m curious.”

Ruby giggled, her cheeks rosy and dimpled when she grinned. “Oh no, now I really hope you like it or else I’ll seem like I have bad taste.”

Blake smiled and shook her head. “Don’t worry, hun, I think I’ll like it just fine.” She felt proud of herself for slipping a “hun” in there like Cinder had. The combination of Ruby blushing and Cinder shooting her a glare of recognition was a satisfying confidence boost.

Ruby tapped her feet on the concrete a few times, like she was letting out a sudden excess of energy, and she hopped off the bench. “We should go! The night’s not getting any younger, right?”

Cinder stood with her, her hands tucked in her jacket pockets. “We should. I’ll lead the way.”

Blake sighed as she followed, the group beginning to follow Cinder’s lead away from the park. She hoped she’d seen the end of Cinder’s funny business, but she knew that was a hope in futility. She had to be planning something, right?

The best Blake could think to do was be there to see what it was.

[longitud-de-onda]

piece of your heart

pairing; javier peña x female reader summary; javi takes you out dancing and drunkenly starts saying things in spanish that you can’t understand rating; t warnings; alcohol, drunkenness (and the vomiting that comes after), unrequited feelings (or not?), and angst. word count; 2.4k requested; by two anons. requests under break. a/n; combined these two requests and wrote this on a plane. there’ll be a part two 😉

“javi request where he takes the reader dancing 🥺 something similar to the dance in 3x1 of narcos thank u sm and ur the best !! 💖”

“You are at a bar after work with Steve and Javi. Javi asks you to dance with him. He is drunk & kind of grinding on you and he starts to say some things in Spanish. You don't speak Spanish very well, and assume he is saying lewd things, but when you go home, you remember some of the things he said and you put them in Google Translate and he is actually confessing really sweet things like he loves you, you are the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, an he is so screwed.”

“So, tonight? Wanna go out dancing with some of the others?” Javier has just walked up to your desk and sat on top of your work, staring you down.

“Dancing? No thanks,” you tell Javier.

Going out dancing with Javier Peña? That involved alcohol and lowered inhibitions and you aren’t ready to do that. You’ll admit, having him here, asking you to go dancing with him, it hurts. You can imagine in another life, one where you weren’t living in Colombia and meddling with international politics in a way even the US President would likely disapprove of, you could be brave, step up and tell Javi how you felt. But you were both in a line of work that didn’t allow for relationships, and catching feelings was the worst illness that could befall you.

And you had caught the virus.

“Come on, it’s been a hell of a week for everyone. There’s about seven of us, going over to the disco downtown, we can get plastered, forget about work, have a bit of fun?” he smiles at you, and you shake your head.

“Not tonight, Javi,” you say. “Anyway, it’s Friday, and we work tomorrow.”

You’ve said yes before. That night sucked. You watched him flirt with every woman in the bar, watched him make out with a young woman in a booth. You cried the entire drive home, and on your way up to your apartment, you passed his first-floor apartment and could hear the moans coming from inside. There was nothing crueler than wanting someone you couldn’t have, someone who would sleep with anyone, except you.

The feeling had weighed heavy on your heart for a long time now, and while it was easy to avoid the man, given that you worked in different departments, he managed to find a reason to visit you. Sneaking him classified documents. Helping him with a wiretap. Doing background checks. And every time he asked you’d comply if only to get a few extra minutes of his presence. A bit more time where that smile was directed at you and not one of the many other women in the building. A few moments where you could pretend that he cared.

“You sure? It’s not really a night without my favorite CIA agent,” he says, putting on the sly grin he uses to bend anyone’s will. The one he uses to get informants to reveal a bit more than they intended.

You want, so badly, to say no. To not force yourself to survive another night of suffering. But you’re weak and probably a masochist. And there’s the fact that he’s asking you, begging you, to come with him. To spend time with him. Even if it means you’ll end the night in tears, historically you’ve never been one to turn down time with Javier, no matter how much it hurt, and you weren’t going to stop tonight.

“Fine, but you’re buying the first round,” you agree.

“Good!” He jumps off of your desk. “It’s gonna be great. See you at eight.”

“Eight, okay...”

He leaves the room, a bit more bounce in his gait, and you smile to yourself, knowing that you were the reason for his excitement.

The day passed slowly, you had too many reports to read through and not enough coffee could keep you going. When you finished for the day, you were one of the last ones still in the office, and you headed home, looking forward to a shower and some warmed up leftovers for dinner.

You don’t have plans to drink too much. You don’t want to be hungover at work, and you had a tendency to spill secrets when wasted. With Javier around, that wasn’t something you wanted to get involved with. Still, you make sure you’ve got enough food in your stomach and drink some water so that the inevitable multitudes of shots you’ll be coerced into drinking don’t go straight to your head.

At eight, you’re waiting in the foyer of the complex, along with Steve, Connie, Marta, the current ambassador’s secretary, and Anthony, one of the other DEA agents that lived in the complex. You were going to be meeting another 5, apparently, at the disco. It was turning into quite the evening, especially considering that you had work the next day. You were told the plan was to take two cars over, so two groups could head back whenever, and if you were too drunk, it was close enough you could probably walk or just take a taxi if things went south.

Javi is obviously rushing as he bursts out of his apartment, still buttoning up his shirt. You let your eyes roam over him from the back of the group. He had put some effort into the look for the evening, a nice pair of slacks than he usually wore, and he had done something with his hair.

It makes you feel more than a bit self-conscious of how unimpressive you look before you mentally slap yourself. You’re not here to impress Javier. You don’t need to put in an effort, even if you did he still wouldn’t go for you.

“Ready?” Javier asks, and you all exit the building.

Two hours into the evening, you’re sufficiently tipsy after a couple beers. You had resisted Connie’s multiple offers of shots, but you didn’t stop her from dragging you onto the dance floor for a solid hour. You’re sweaty and a bit tired already, back at the bar where some of the guys in your group are gathered.

You watch as Javier starts knocking back shots of tequila with Anthony, something you weren’t expecting. He was always the one to slowly sip at a glass of whiskey over the night, or drink beer. He must really want to get drunk tonight.

You slip onto a barstool and order a bottle of beer. Javier is a couple feet away, and he’s already acting like he’s lost all control, and you worry about his fate in the morning. He wasn’t usually this careless with his alcohol.

He sidles up next to you, “Y/N! We should go dance.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulders, trying to pull you up off your seat.

“Javi, no,” you say. You should be jumping for joy. Happy that he actually wants to spend time with you. But you know that it’s only because he’s so incredibly drunk.

“Please, darling? I didn’t invite you out so that you could sit here.” he drawls out, his Texas accent appears in moments like this, and you wish it didn’t make you feel things.

He drags his hand down your bare arm, wrapping his fingers around your hand and pulling you up.

“Okay.” You must hate yourself.

He pulls you through the crowds into the center of the dance floor. Arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you yelp in surprise.

“¿Todo bien, compañera?” he laughs in your ear, something light and fluttery.

“Javi you know I don’t speak Spanish,” you say, bowing your head.

“You should, it would sound so beautiful coming from you,” he says and you close your eyes, reminding yourself that he’s so far gone he doesn’t know what he’s saying.

He starts to sway to the music, and his hands on your waist radiate heat straight through your dress. The whole disco is hot, but you feel even warmer wrapped up in Javier. The music thrums through your body, and you look up at his eyes, glittering with the almost-goofy smile he wears.

You want to imagine that this is real. That he’s here, hands all over you, because he wants to. You wish you could move your hands down from around his neck, or pull him in tighter, and not regret it tomorrow morning. You know you’re going to wake up tomorrow alone in bed, remembering how much could have happened if Javier cared, and that he will wake up, probably with someone else, someone who’s in this very room right now.

That thought almost makes you let go of Javier and run away, but he pulls your hips into his, rolling up against you. He lets out a moan that shoots straight to your core, and you close your eyes tight, hoping you’ll open them again for this to be just a dream.

Instead, you open them at the feeling of his breath, hot near your ear.

“Eres tan hermosa, Y/N,” he says.

You don’t know a word he’s saying but you’re pretty sure you have an idea of what he means. He’s grinding up against you, drunk and probably horny, like he is most nights, the words likely meaning something about how he’d like to take you here on the dance floor. Something disgusting and quick and meaningless.

“Me vuelves loco.”

But you’re too tipsy to get caught up on that. You want to pretend he’s saying anything but what you know he’s going on about. Want to pretend his arms aren’t slinking lower down your back until they brush over your ass. You want to believe he’s doing it because he wants to.

You decide it’s better to let go for the night. Maybe you can pretend. Just for an hour.

The music washes over you, and you move your hips along with his, and while he takes the lead, you follow, dancing as if you knew what you were doing.

“Cuando bailas así, no quiero que todos estén aquí,” he groans, “Quiero estar a solas contigo.”

If only you knew what he was saying. If you knew exactly what sort of lewd things he is saying, maybe it would be enough to knock some sense into your head and leave him on the dance floor. But you don’t.

Thank god you don’t.

It means you get to dance in his arms for a little bit more.

“No sabes, porque tu español es una mierda, pero estoy con tantas mujeres para que pueda intentar olvidarte,” he says, “Es tortura, tener alguién tan perfecta como tú, tan cerca, pero tan inalcanzable.”

When he speaks Spanish, he sounds so different. Sometimes, like now, it’s like he’s reciting a love poem. Other times, like when you hear him talking to the police, he becomes someone commanding and aggressive. Not like the Javier who spoke English to you, smiled, and sheepishly asked for favors.

“Nunca ha funcionado, no puedo olvidarte,” he says.

“Javi, you know I don’t understand you, right?” you say and he responds by thrusting his hips into you again. You bite your lip, and it only becomes more painful as you feel his bulge against your body. You’re just another body for him. And that is a sobering realization. You’re about to cry and you’re glad he’s looking over your shoulder and can’t see your face.

“Deseo poder besarte,” he whispers in your ear, “Te quiero.”

You were so stupid to fall for such a man. It’s killing you.

With one hand still on your ass, he brings the other one up, palming your breast. The moan you involuntarily release shocks you enough to push him away.

“Javier,” you say, panicking, “I can’t—“

Before you say anything more you see the twisted look on his face, somewhere between completely ravaged and utterly lost. You turn and, pushing through people, go back to the bar, where you order a shot which you quickly down before sitting down and letting the tears fall.

After fifteen minutes of looking like the saddest person in the disco, the bartender takes pity on you and gives you a glass of water and some tissues. You thank her.

The night had so quickly turned to shit. It was so much worse than previous ones. It was a torture you couldn’t handle anymore.

“Y/N!” screams a voice in your ear, someone drunk and loud.

You turn. It’s Marta.

“What?”

“It’s Javier, he’s outside puking. You’re the soberest of us you need to take him home.”

Shit. Of course this would happen.

“Fine, but take care, Marta, I don’t want you not making it home tonight.”

She thanks you and disappears into the throngs of people.

You settle your tab and Javier’s and go outside. Javier is sitting on the curb, keeled over and emptying his guts onto the stone streets.

If your heart didn’t hurt so much, you’d laugh. You hadn’t known anyone over the age of 30 drunk themselves to this point.

“Javier?” you say.

He looks up and starts to say something, but you can see the regret on his face flash upon opening his mouth as it only brings on another wave of nausea. You look away.

When he finishes, you say, “Come on, Javi, let's get you home.”

He tries to stand and you have to dive into his side to stabilize him. When you’re in a position where you can support his weight, you guide him towards his car.

You strap him into the passenger seat and reach your hand into his pocket, finding the car keys.

The ride home he stays silent. He hasn’t said a word to you since he was whispering in your ear on the dance floor. You suppose he has a fair reason to not open his mouth now though. Probably doesn’t want to soil his own vehicle.

You get him into his apartment just fine, set him up with a glass of water and make him take some pain meds.

“Don’t die on me Javi, no choking on your vomit overnight, okay?” you say and he nods.

Back in your apartment, you sit down on your couch. You should go to sleep. You need to be at work in 7 hours.

But some vicious part of your mind reminds you of the words Javier had said. You curse your curiosity and pull out your Spanish dictionary.

You only remember three phrases, “quiero estar a solas contigo,” “deseo poder besarte,” and “te quiero.”

As you look up the words, your eyes widen. Quiero: I want. Estar: To be. Solas: alone. Contigo: with you.

Shit.

Deseo: I wish. Poder: to be able to. Besarte: to kiss you.

Fuck.

The last one requires you to look it up in the phrasebook. ‘I want you’ didn’t feel right. When you find it you almost drop the book on the floor.

Te quiero: I love you.

next part

translations;

¿Todo bien, compañera?

Everything okay, partner/colleague/girlfriend?

Eres tan hermosa

You are so beautiful

Me vuelves loco.

You drive me crazy

Cuando bailas así, no quiero que todos estén aquí. Quiero estar a solas contigo.

When you dance like that, I don’t want everyone to be here. I want to be alone with you. 

No sabes, porque tu español es una mierda, pero estoy con tantas mujeres para que pueda intentar olvidarte

You don’t know because your Spanish sucks, but I’m with so many women so I can try to forget you

Es tortura, tener alguién tan perfecta como tú, tan cerca, pero tan inalcanzable.

It’s torture, having someone as perfect as you, so close, yet so unreachable. 

Nunca ha funcionado, no puedo olvidarte 

It’s never worked, I can’t forget you

Deseo poder besarte 

I wish I could kiss you

Te quiero. 

I love you

taglist; @pascalisthepunkest​ @turquiosenights @el-lizzie​

[youreacowgirllikeme]

Friday: Sparks

note: wrapping it up today with part five of ‘A week with Chris’. This was so much fun, thanks to everyone who followed along :) enjoy the fluff

(you can find the other parts here)

words: 1.6 k (this is definitely not drabble-sized anymore but I couldn’t help myself)

warnings: swearing

(Thursday, 7:11 pm)

Hey there, here are the pictures I took today, I figured you’d want them. CC

(attached: 23 images)

(Thursday, 7:13)

I almost forgot, meet me at 47-01 111th Street (that’s in Queens) tomorrow at 11 am. CC

(Thursday, 7:38)

By the way, I had a wonderful time today. Have a good night, Y/N. Chris

+++

(Friday)

On the subway ride to Queens, you re-read the messages Chris had sent you last night. The fact that he wrote you another one just to tell you that he enjoyed spending time with you made you immensely happy, and you could see the reflection of your silly grin in the subway window.

You were nervous about today, even more so than the times before. You felt like something had shifted between the two of you in the park yesterday, and you weren’t sure in which direction you were moving with Chris. There was an undeniable spark between the two of you, but he was still very much your boss.

The speaker announced the arrival at your destination, and with a sight, you got up from your seat. You would just roll with it, you thought, and deal with things as they developed.

+++

Like the days before, Chris was already there and waiting for you.

“Morning.” You greeted him. “No coffee today?”

“It’s already 11, I assumed by now you’d be awake enough to tackle today without caffeine.” He replied with a smirk.

“That totally depends on your plans. Spill, what are we doing today?”

“This is my favorite place in the whole city.” Chris said. “The New York City Science Hall, it’s something like an interactive museum, they have exhibitions rooms and a cinema, it’s great.”

“Sounds fun, I’m in.”

+++

“Chris, why are there so many children in here?”

You looked around the entrance hall of the museum with a puzzled look on your face, surrounded by what looked like an entire elementary school, all babbling and laughing. They were creating such an immense amount of background noise that you had to raise your voice to talk to Chris.

“Oh, a lot of the stuff here is intended for children, to teach them about science.” He replied with a grin “But it’s fun for everyone. Lighten up a bit, Y/N.”

“But why exactly is this your favorite spot in town?” you asked, eying the noisy kids around you warily.

Chris face got serious.

“My father used to take me here when I was a child. I grew up in the neighborhood down the street, and some of my best memories are from here, especially with him.”

You felt a pang of guilt in your chest at hearing how quiet Chris voice had become.

Of course you were aware about his father and how much he meant to him, and now you felt like a fool for talking about the place with that kind of disregard. Pulling yourself together, you gave Chris your most convincing smile and linked his arm with yours.

“Let’s make some new memories then. Come on, old man, I want to learn something.”

+++

“Ouch, god damnit.” you cursed, holding your hand in pain. You were trying to light a fire the stone-age way in one of the interactive exhibit rooms, and a spark had burnt your finger.

“Excuse me, ma’am, could you watch your language, there are children present.” one of the guards called your way, and you got beet red when a lot of small heads turned to you.

Chris snickered beside you. “Yes, Y/N, watch your mouth around the kids.” He whispered.

“Shut up, Cuomo. There shouldn’t even be kids here, this is super dangerous. Also I wouldn’t joke if I were you. You look ridiculous.” He really did, his massive frame was crouched in front of small the fireplace, looking even larger between all the children, and there were smashes of ash all over his shirt.

“You’re only jealous that my fire is already burning.” He grinned. You only flipped him the bird in return.

+++

Despite your earlier skepticism, you were having a great time. After several futile attempts of lighting a fire, you dragged Chris to see movie about space in the museums 3D cinema. You sat close enough for your knees to touch occasionally, and at some point, you were deliberately brushing your leg against his, smiling to yourself when he didn’t move away.

At first, you had been embarrassed about revealing your childish, overly excited side to Chris, but he showed zero judgement, acting silly and goofing around with you in a way you never thought was possible for such a serious person. The hours flew by while you were doing every activity the museum had to offer, and it was already late afternoon by the time you made your way towards the exit.

“Look, Chris, they have a photo booth.”

“Dear God, not again.” Chris groaned beside you, but you had already grabbed his sleeve and dragged him towards the box, basically pushing him inside.

“This won’t work.” You complained. “Its way to narrow in here, and you are too big.”

“Easy.” Chris grinned, sitting down on the small bench and pulled you to sit on his knee. Your mind was going into overdrive at being so close to him, and when he said “Smile!” and the flash announced the first picture being taken, you were still looking slightly bewildered.

“Quick, pose!” Chris whispered, and you just stuck out your tongue at the camera.

Suddenly, a huge arm got wrapped around you, pulling you close to the body beside you. You and Chris were basically cheek to cheek now, and you could feel your face burning up.

A sudden surge of boldness went through you, and you turned your head, pressing your lips to Chris cheek just as the last picture was taken.

Instantly, you became embarrassed, why had you done this? You bolted out of the booth, muttering “I need to use the toilet, be right back.”

In the restroom, you splashed cold water on your face until the flush disappeared, then braced yourself to face Chris again. He was standing next to the booth, holding the pictures you had just taken.

“We look cute.” He grinned, and you felt incredibly relieved about the lack of awkwardness. Appaerently, he didn’t mind the peck on the cheek.

“We really do.” You replied, and your heart sped up as he gave you a brilliant smile.

“So, to round up your perfect Cuomo week, I have another surprise planed. My car is just around the corner, let’s go.”

+++

Chris drove you back to Manhattan and parked his car in the garage of a huge apartment building on the Upper West Side. Your mind was reeling, was he taking you to his place?

You were too nervous to ask, riding the elevator with Chris in silence. You went all the way up, almost to the top floor.

“This one’s mine.” Chris announced as you stopped in front of a door at the end of the hallway.

You entered the apartment, and your jaw almost hit the floor.

“This is where you live?”

It was gorgeous, a huge, open space, illuminated by the golden light of the setting sun. The floorlenght windows offered an amazing view of the Manhattan skyline.

“Wow, I’m definitely jealous.” You joked, still a bit overwhelmed by the place.

“Uhm, if you’d like to, the terrace is a pretty good place to watch the sunset.” Chris said, rubbing his neck almost as if he was nervous.

“I love sunsets.” You said, following Chris to the glass door that led to the outdoor space. He was right, the view was amazing, beams of orange light reflected by the countless glass facades around you.

Chris cleared his throat next to you, and you teared your eyes away from the sky to look at him.

“This week has been great, Y/N, I’m really glad you agreed to doing all this stuff with me, and I really hope you enjoyed it as much as I did .” His voice was oddly emotional, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I had the best time, Chris, and I can’t thank you enough for all the effort and time you put into everything. I loved every moment.” you replied, returning his look with a soft smile.

Slowly, his hand reached out, brushing against your arm before cupping your cheek. You held your breath, unable to move a muscle, your heart beating incredibly fast.

Like in slow motion, he lowered his head, his face coming closer and closer until his lips finally settled onto yours. It was a feather light touch, almost shy in a way you hadn’t expected from your usually brusque boss.

You returned the kiss, softly moving your lips against his, you hand reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his.

“This was so fucking cheesy.” You whispered after breaking the kiss, trying to calm your racing pulse a bit.

“Yeah, but it worked, didn’t it?” Chris replied with a small chuckle.

“I wanted to do this since Tuesday.” He continued, voice more serious now.

“That’s funny, me too.” you responded, still sounding slightly breathy. Your heart was almost jumping out of your chest, was this really happening?

“We should do it again then.” Chris murmured, leaning down to capture your lips once more.

The sun had disappeared behind the horizon, the chilly air making you shiver.

“You’re cold.” Chris noted, wrapping his arm around you. “Let’s get you inside. I’m making dinner.”

You snuggled up to him, thinking that maybe you should write a thank-you note to the CNN bosses for giving you the week off.

The end (I think)

[spaceorphan18]

Blaine Solos Ranked

With the success of the Kurt Solos Ranked, I thought I’d see if I could do Blaine’s as well.  Which has become an interesting and complicated endeavor.  

First of all - there’s the whole issue of what constitutes as a solo -- especially when he often times has an entire back up group singing along with him.  Things like the Warbler numbers I counted -- because he sings the lead in the song by himself.  Not counted are group numbers where he is featured - such as Hey Jude and This Is the New Year.  Mostly, I stuck to what Glee Wiki counts as a solo, so if you have issues, take it up with them. 

Secondly, when ranking Kurt solos, I took a lot into account of how heavily the song ties Kurt’s story.  While nearly all of Kurt’s solos tie in with his story, the Blaine solos don’t always do so.  So, mostly this is just what I think of them. 

Thirdly, the Blaine fans that I have met are, well, fairly passionate about his music, so I want to say this.  There aren’t really any bad Blaine solos.  Unlike Will and Tina, who were subjected to poor song choices, Blaine’s performances, across the board, are pretty stellar.  So, I’d like to remind everyone that this list is pretty arbitrary and based on my subjective biases.  

So going in - take the list as it is, just a fun look at how one person ranks the solos. :) 

Btw - the trivia on Glee wiki says that Blaine sings 31 solos, but I only found 29 -- do they mean the two songs added to the Warblers CD? Or am I missing a couple??

29. I’m Not Going to Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance With You (Prom Queen) 

Look at the list of Blaine solos, and arranging it to a list of things I like more than other things, this just kept sinking down and down.  The biggest reason is that I just don’t like the song.  Yup, that’s it.  Nothing exciting about that really.  But I suppose adding to that is the fact that this performance feels way more Darren than it does Blaine, and that the onscreen performance is mostly Finn and Jesse fighting over Rachel.  As I said earlier, there’s nothing /bad/ about any of Blaine’s solo, I just like all the rest more. 

28. Piano Man (Movin’ Out) 

This is a perfectly fine albeit generic rendition of this number.  So, here’s my thing about this one - when they did Piano Man in season one, not only did the song fit a bit more into context with Will and Bryan Ryan being somewhat washed up losers, there was a grittiness in not only the song but the visuals as well, and we get to do something that TV can do, which is transport us into the atmosphere of the song.  By the time Blaine gets to do this number, all of that context and TV atmosphere has been kind of washed away.  And this feels like a number that everyone would have fun singing at Darren’s piano bar because it’s a classic, and less because it has relevance to any of the story.  

Look - a lot of these numbers are fun numbers just for the heck of it, but since they had already done this one, and since this is supposed to take place of the NYADA audition, I’m marking it down.  You can do a lot with this song, and this performance, mostly, didn’t.  

27. Everybody Wants to Rule the World

This is another one where I just am not a fan of the original song, and I don’t go back to listen to it very often.  That said - it is super fun to see Blaine joining all the clubs and being super interactive in school, even if it’s tinged with the sadness that he and Kurt aren’t connecting much these days. 

26. Bills, Bills, Bills (The Sue Sylvester Shuffle) 

This one has grown on me over the years.  It is a bit random - the Warblers’ singing an impromptu (and somewhat obligatory) Destiny’s Child song for the Superbowl episode.  It has zero story resonance.  But it is hilarious to see how much furniture Darren Blaine stands on during the number.  If nothing else, the number is fun, and the Warblers look like they’re enjoying the hell out of doing it.

25. When I Get You Alone (Silly Love Songs)

This one, still, is one of the cringiest things they did on the show.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s hilariously ridiculous, and Blaine singing to a dude in The Gap about sex toys is just, well, something memorable.  It also is getting points for Kurt’s annoyed looks and Darren’s pink sunglasses.  But overall, it still makes me uncomfortable to watch. 

24. Fighter (Big Brother)

So, mostly, this just isn’t a song I like all that much.  Vocally, Blaine sounds fine on it - and does a decent job with it.  That said, I can’t take it as seriously as I’m supposed to.  There’s something I find unintentionally hilarious about this little, teenage grandpa angsting over his brother.  I know it’s got the infamous shower sequence in here - and I get it, I do.  But the fact that I can’t keep from giggling through it is why it’s a bit lower than the rest.  

23. Against All Odds (Guilty Pleasures)

First of all, I’ve always confused by the debate about this song.  It’s clearly for Sam, because Blaine’s an intense guy with intense emotions, and any song he sings for a person he has feelings for is going to be intense.  Go back and watch When I Get You Alone -- that was intense for a dude he got coffee with twice.  I love Blaine (and Darren) with a piano and his voice, and this is one of the ones that was performed live, so that’s cool.  Not my favorite Phil Collins’s number - so that’s mostly the reason for the position here.  Also not the most visually engaging.  But the song is performed well. 

22. Hopelessly Devoted to You (The Role You Were Born to Play)

I’ve never realized just how many angsty Blaine songs he has in his canon.  It’s kind of like the equivalent of Kurt crying through his solos.  He does it well, and I don’t really have any faults for this one.  It’s visually entertaining as well as sounding pretty good.  But not a favorite song of mine, and therefore just gets notched a bit lower.  

21. Last Friday Night (Pot o Gold)

I actually really like this song, even if I’ve probably heard it enough to be fine with not hearing it again for a long time.  The performance is cute - there’s a nice high energy about it (with the exception of Santana’s dower expression during the whole thing because random season 3 conflict).  However, this is kind of the height of whole Jukebox Blaine thing, where he’s trotted out to sing the hot new single of the summer, and then we just stash him away in the background to sit next to Kurt platonically until he’s needed again.  I like the song and the performance, but am frustrated by the gratuitous context.  

20. It's Not Unusual (The Purple Piano Project)

This one is flirty and high energy and Blaine looks super cute dancing on the stairs.  I don’t really have any faults for this number.  But I’m not particularly emotionally attached to it, either, so so in the middle it goes. 

19. Hey, Soul Sister (Special Education)

I unabashedly love this song - even though I feel like I’m not supposed to since it was way, way over played when it was popular.  But I do.  The performance, however, isn’t the Warblers’ best -- across the board I feel like competition numbers rarely are -- and I’d argue it’s one of Blaine’s weaker vocal performances (sorry Darren), but it’s still fun, and the arrangements for the Warbler songs have always been pretty stellar. 

18. Wanna Be Startin' Somethin' (Michael)

While the song itself is a bit strange, and while I’ve never been a huge MJ fan (sorry my dudes), I think this number is a lot of fun.  It’s visually pretty entertaining, and I love the second half where they bring in all of the different styles MJ had donned over the years.  It’s vocally pretty stagnant, so Blaine doesn’t have to do much here, but it’s about the spectacle anyway - and I enjoy what they did with it. 

17. Something’s Coming

It’s always nice to hear Blaine do a Broadway number to give us a break from the mostly pop music he sings.  While not Blaine’s strongest number vocally (he struggles just a little more on the Broadway ones), I love that he brings the stage alive when it’s just him singing.  He’s incredibly visually engaging, and what he may lack (a little) with the vocals he makes up in energy and enthusiasm, which is always a joy to watch.  Plus, there’s something particularly more attractive about early season 3 Blaine (possibly the fluffier, less gelled hair) that adds a nice touch. 

16. Not While I'm Around (Bash)

Interestingly, the studio version of this song has everyone on it, and I’m so glad they let Blaine sing it on his own - because I feel it’s much more impactful that way.  Not only is this the only real insight we get into Blaine’s head during this episode, but it’s raw and emotional (in a good way), and that adds to story unfolding on our screen.  This might be, perhaps, the shortest number on the list, but its impact is stronger than a lot of the other numbers on the list, which is why I enjoy it a lot more. 

15. Beauty School Dropout (Glease)

My favorite Broadway number that Blaine does on the show.  I kind of love that there’s a lot going on during this song.  Not only is Blaine doing an amazing Teen Angel, there’s the moment in the middle Blaine sees Kurt, and the layered look on Blaine’s face as he tries to hold it together is pretty remarkable.  It’s one of my favorite acting moments from Darren, and one of my favorite times the story of the characters is layered over a seemingly disconnected performance.  Plus, Blaine sounds fantastic on this catchy little number.  

14. Silly Love Songs (Silly Love Songs) 

This is one of those charming Warbler numbers that doubles as an ending feature that actually gives relevance to the story of the episode.  It’s cute and sweet and flirty and fun and everyone gets something interesting to do during it.  I don’t have a lot of commentary to add about it - but it’s a classic for a reason, and because of that, it deserves a higher spot on the list. 

13. You're My Best Friend (Puppet Master)

I’m not sure I fully understand the casts’ aversion to the puppets (though I’ll acknowledge that it’s probably weird to perform with a puppet of yourself).  That said, this number is kinda cool visually, and a nice break from what can be tedious choir room songs at this point in the series.  I also enjoy the song and think Blaine sounds nice on it.  Plus - Blaine totally has a backup career in children’s programming if he ever desired.  It is weird that Blaine’s singing to puppets in the first place, but I do adore this one. 

12. Don't Stop Me Now (Diva)

I enjoy that Blaine’s version of being a diva is just adding a leather jacket and pants to a number he performs exactly the same otherwise.  Again, not much to comment on here, but I love the song, and Blaine sounds great on it, and while it isn’t hugely impactful to his story, I like that it shows Blaine being the ambitious little go-getter that he is.  

11. Misery (Original Song) 

This is another one of those songs that I unironically love.  It is the most upbeat song about being miserable that I’ve ever heard, and while a lot of this song has to do with Kurt and his own mental state, has there ever been a more perfect song for Blaine? (well, yes but I’d digress if I went on about that.)  I love so much about this song, from the choreography to Blaine’s obliviousness with Kurt as the number progresses.  It’s fun and energetic and the most entertaining a subject as misery can get. 

10. Cough Syrup (On My Way) 

This might be the most controversial pick on the list, since I know for a lot of Blaine fans, this is their favorite number.  I think it validates what a lot of people had been thinking - that there’s a lot going on underneath the surface of an outwardly peppy and energetic Blaine Anderson.  And, I do like this song, and find it haunting -- it’s much different than the songs Blaine usually sings.  It’s more emotional and tortured, and it’s fascinating to watch him sing his way through it.  That said, the actual performance of this I rarely ever watch.  It’s laid over Karofsky’s suicide attempt, and I find that sequence incredibly difficult to watch.  So, while I do think a lot of the praise this song gets is completely valid, I can’t claim that it’s my favorite.  I’m giving it an obligatory spot at #10 because I do think it deserves to be acknowledged as one of Blaine’s best solos. 

9. It's Not Alright but It's Okay (Dance With Somebody)

Funny enough, as just a song, this isn’t one of my favorites.  But I love, love what this song does.  Clearly, by now I’m sure you’ve figured out, I love performances that have a lot of layers to them - and this one definitely does.  There’s a great duality going on here between the awkward sadness that Blaine actually sings in the choir room versus the controlled anger that Blaine displays during his own fantasy.  (It’s also one half of a conversation with Kurt that gets resolved when Kurt sings I Have Nothing later on.)  I love the complexity of emotion that goes on during this one, and it remains one of my favorite performances on the show.  

8. My Dark Side (Dynamic Duets) 

Yes, this song is amazing! Again, another one of those performances that has a ton packed in it -- that has the additional quality of sounding and looking fantastic.  I love that this song is entirely about Blaine, and where he is in his life.  We get more tortured Blaine, but this time it’s in a more upbeat, pop-y song that suits Blaine incredibly well.  But mostly, I love his interaction with the Warblers during it, the choreography is brilliant as they slowly start to bring him back in as their leader - and that moment where he parts them and he walks down the center reclaiming his position.  There’s a lot to unpack here, as it easily meshes with the themes of the episode - of dark vs light and of heroes not always being heroic (but worth it anyway).  I love when there’s deeper symbolism in a performance, and this has a ton of that. 

7. All of Me (The Untitled Rachel Berry Project) 

Look, it’s probably no secret that I really love Blaine (and Darren) just sitting at a piano singing.  And I really love this song in general, too.  Blaine’s last solo on the show (unfortunately!) is as tortured as many of the others on this list, but the thing that stands out for me about this one is its simplicity.  It’s just Blaine by himself, working out how he feels about his situation through song.  It’s not really meant to be heard by Kurt (or anyone else) but it’s also a shame that so rarely Blaine gets to let his real emotions be on display, which he does here.  The performance is also beautifully shot, and intentionally evocative of another infamous Blaine solo that’s a little higher on the list. 

6. Raise Your Glass (Original Song) 

This is quintessential Warblers, and quintessential performance Blaine.  This song is amazing on its own, truly.  But the Warblers bring so much warmth and joy to it -- it’s such an engaging and energetic song, I often listen to it as a pick me up.  No - this isn’t essential to Blaine’s character story, but I think it represents all the fun and ridiculousness Blaine and the Warblers arc brought to the show. 

5. Somewhere Only We Know (Born This Way) 

There’s something hauntingly beautiful about this one.  Blaine (and the Warblers) sound great on it, and it’s the beginning of Blaine having a tortured and emotional underbelly to his personality.  But more so, this song is about endings, and this is a turning point in Kurt’s and Klaine’s story as we say goodbye to Dalton and move on with the rest of Kurt’s journey.  And it’s a dialogue between Kurt and Blaine, despite the sea of people around them, things are changing between them for better and for worse and for... just growing up, and this song encapsulates that beautifully. 

4. All You Need is Love (Love, Love, Love)

Not gonna lie, this one is 100% about the context within the show.  When I first heard the song, when it was released before the episode, it was kinda like - cool, Darren’s singing a Beatles cover.  But the actual performance, the fact that this is essentially a love letter to the Klaine story, makes it one of the most precious and romantic numbers in the entire show.  Blaine pulls out all the stops for Kurt here, and I can never just watch the performance, but always continue on to the proposal as well.  It’s a beautiful performance, and a beautiful moment for Klaine and an utter highlight for the show itself. 

3. It’s Time (The New Rachel) 

Perhaps a number I’ve seen more than any other, I just love this number so much. Yes, it’s a good song.  Yes, Blaine sounds great on it.  And yes, the choreography is a ton of fun.   But it’s also Blaine, very much himself, torn between being a child and growing up.  There’s an unspoken dialogue between Kurt and Blaine during this song, about moving on from being stuck, and while this number is very childlike in it’s choreography, the subject matter is a little more mature -- being about moving on from the places your feel safe and journeying out in the world to be the person you’re supposed to be.  There’s also a duality here -- where Blaine is stuck in the childlike land of high school as Kurt moves on to college and New York.  This is another turning point in their story (as is all the songs done on these steps for these two), and I absolutely love that.  But, it shouldn’t be discounted that it is a really good song that Blaine sounds really good on -- which is why it makes it one of Blaine’s best solos. 

2. Teenage Dream Acoustic (The Break Up) 

I’m sure that no one is surprised this at the top of the list. But what I can’t stress enough is that this is, hands down, one of the best performances done on the show period.  Katy Perry’s original version of Teenage Dream is a trashy, forgettable pop song.  What Darren Criss did with it is nothing short of magical.  But then to bring this arrangement and add in his most phenomenal acting performance, even if it did break all of our hearts.  The thing I love especially about the show version (vs the studio version) is that we get to see Blaine slowly break down and become unraveled while singing it.  The performer that Blaine is starts to break down and this performance becomes an utter mess -- which makes it all the more powerful, moving, and heartbreaking.  I love everything that this number chooses to be -- from exposing Blaine’s character, to the breaking of the fairy tale romance that is Klaine, to letting it be an end of one thing while the beginning of another.  

Meanwhile, on another note, I’ve heard Darren sing this enough in his own performances that I have somewhat disassociated this version with the Klaine break up - but that doesn’t make this arrangement less powerful.  Darren took a somewhat throwaway song and made something uniquely beautiful with it -- and that’s incredibly special, too.  

1. Teenage Dream (Never Been Kissed)

I’m sure you’re gasping with surprise.  But, this is no. 1 for a reason.  While I think the acoustic version is better sounding (there’s just a tad too much auto tune here for reasons I’m unsure about), this number is the epitome of all Blaine numbers.  It’s his introduction to the show, and so much of Blaine’s character was cultivated out of this performance.  On top of that -- this performance made Kurt alive again, and it’s the beginning of a wild and beautiful story that would be the Klaine love story.  It also became a major hit for the show - thrusting the music of Glee to a height that it never really could match again.  

The scene is iconic and classic.  The song is iconic and classic.  Everything that is Blaine and the Klaine love story is wrapped up in this one.  And every time I come back to it, I can’t help but smile - which is why this one remains at the top spot for me.  

[nimmy22]

A Mistake: Chapter 4

Cara missed her first two classes, having been knocked out into the late morning hours, courtesy of her dad. No parents were rushing to wake her up, no breakfast waiting for her, no offer for a ride to school. She woke up with a gash on her head, an abdomen that was an artwork of black and blue. The cause of it all was a dealer who had no stock to sell. His suppliers suddenly cut all contact leaving her parents without their fix.

Last night her dad came home seconds from exploding. He almost broke down the door as he struggled to open it in his drunken stupor, nose flaring and teeth grinding into dust even before his eyes locked on her. While these beatings were nothing new to Cara, she will admit that his hand was extra heavy yesterday, evidenced by the deeper shades on her skin. Her mother didn't even have to add anything into the mix, satisfied by her husband's handiwork.

Cara just couldn't wait to leave, but money was a dilemma. She tried her best to get the odd job here and there, whatever she could find, really. Things were even more difficult since her parent recently took to stealing her hard-earned money, ransacking her bedroom for anything worth selling. Not even the mattress stuffing or the soles of her shoes were a safe place.

Adding to her troubles was the potential loss of a job. She could no longer babysit Sherry and hasn't been contacted by the Birkins. Still, perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing. After all, these people were beyond dangerous, and she would do just about anything to never meet that man again. It still broke her heart to be cut away from such a sweet little girl, the separation was sudden, and god knows how hard that must've hit Sherry, losing one of the few people she trusted.

As expected, both her parents were gone. They were likely fishing for another dealer, and if they did not find what they were looking for, she knew what will be waiting for her tonight. It was better to stay away from home for now, and it didn't matter where.

While the other bruises were easier to hide, the limp in her walk was too obvious. She had just finished formulating a story by the time she made it to her third class, auto-mechanics. Usually, people ate up her stories without a problem, curbing their questions as their concern lacked genuinely. The real issue was Claire. She'll spit the story right out without even tasting it.

Claire was already waiting in their usual spot. Despite the pain, Cara tried her best to be as subtle as possible but attempting the once flawless movement of her legs took a considerable amount of control.

"Hey, you," Claire cracked a smile as soon as she spotted her friend. "Missed you at lunch. Actually, missed you for like half the day. Where've you been off to? Could've invited me too."

" Stayed up too long watching reruns and then ended up sleeping in. I scared my mom this morning when I came out of my room. She thought I was a burglar." Cara giggled over her lies, struggling to fight the grimace as she took a seat. Thankfully, Claire didn't seem to notice, leaning back in her chair to put up her red hair into a high ponytail. Care relaxed inwardly, feeling safe from the questions.... for now.

Half an hour later, Claire slid beneath the car donated to the school while Cara sat next to her on the floor leaning against the door. Cara was glad. This way, she could finally slouch over and breathe, gladly keeping the weight off her bad leg. The radio played a series of pointless advertisements adding nothing valuable to the background noise. Mr. Crawford liked the radio host, but Cara thought he simply lived to promote Michael Warren or was paid handsomely to do so. Sure, the mayor had done much for the city. Still, she found all this prosperity odd, especially under such a short period of time. Something smelled fishy.

"This shit can't be fixed," Claire grumbled, sliding out from below the hunk of metal, tossing the greasy gloves next to her on the floor. The car was so weathered the paint came off in large chips as she peeled whatever was left of it on the door.

"Something Claire Redfield can't fix? Well, that's a surprise." Cara giggled, raising an eyebrow.

"I can't fix what's not there. Half the parts are missing. The idiot who donated the car must've stolen it, took whatever was worth shit, and donated the rest to get rid of the evidence."

"Looks like you've been hanging around the station too long. What, are you going to start an investigation now?"

"If I wanted that bike upgrade, then I obviously need money, and you know I don't like asking my brother for money. But what I don't mind asking for is a job around the station. Pretty much everyone knows me by now. It's like a foot in the door. I'll just annoy them until it's official."

"Once they hire you as a janitor, don't forget about me. Then we can break into the records room where they keep all those juicy storybooks."

"Okay, that's a fun idea. But here's another idea! How about we not get my brother fired along with us. Plus, you forget where we live. Nothing major happens around here."

"That's where you're wrong," Cara whispered before mentally slapping herself. She tensed, begging higher entities that Claire heard nothing.

"What do you mean?" Claire perked up, reminding her of a puppy who heard the sound of the treat bag opening.

"Oh, nothing," Cara tried to play it off, not want her friend to dig deeper. If there was one thing she learned last Friday, it was to keep her mouth effectively shut. She was already screwing herself over and placing a friend in danger. Her pulse began racing with the prospect that she already said too much.

"Cara," Claire crawled towards her friend, a threat in he voice. "You heard something or...saw something? You can tell me, I'm your friend. Chris and I will always be there for you."

"I know. You remind me of that every day. It's not a big deal. I'm just worried about the level of stupidity in this town. I've heard about the three seniors who got caught breaking into Kendo's gun shop last night. He had them lined up on their knees with their hands behind their head by the time the cops came. The whole street watched them."

"Ugh, I've never seen someone do something as stupid in my life. Had to hear all about it from Chris. In fact, that's all he talked about last night and this morning. Don't get in the wrong crowds, bluh bluh. Guns are bad bluh bluh." As claire grumbled through her rant, Cara knew she had successfully steered the boat to safety.

"Well, it's nice to have a brother. I wouldn't mind a lecture or two."

"Oh honey, I can help with that," Claire cocked her head to the side with a gleam in her eyes.

"No, yours are excluded."

"Oh, ha ha, you'll be begging for it one day. Now be a good girl and be on the watch out. I'm taking a nap." Claire said, sliding back below the car before getting into a comfortable position. "Oh, and give me a foot massage while you're at it,"

"It'll cost you."

"Wait till I hear back about a job, and then we'll talk,"

They stayed like that, Claire breathing softly while Cara listened absentmindedly at the radio. Her thoughts were yet again plagued by the events of last Friday. It was suffocating having to mentally recover from something so scarring and no one around her knowing a thing. She had no one to talk to. The words of the host were starting to become much more appealing than her thoughts.

"Michael Warren did so much for Raccoon decades before he was mayor, but with him in power, we're doing so much better, growing faster than ever before. We all gotta thank him for that, you know? Everyone was skeptical about big pharma moving in, but he made a good partnership with them, and the jobs came raining down. Have you seen the homeless folk on the streets? No, cause they all got help, been offered good jobs, their lives are turned for the better. Y'all look at the jails. They are pretty much empty. Nobody needs to turn to stealing for a living when good-paying work is right in front of them." The host trailed on, with Cara barely listening to the shameless paid promotion. The supposed decrease in crime seems a bit far-fetched to Cara. Maybe the robbers, murders, fraudsters, and rapists just moved their activity to the next town over for whatever reason, much like her dad and his dealings? But if there were so many work opportunities, why couldn't someone come 'help' her parents? Uproot them out of the dark pit they dug?

"Hey, you coming?"

"What?" Cara snapped back to reality, realizing Claire was already on her feet, stretching her back.

"The assembly?"

"Oh...?" Cara frowned, forcing a straight face as she pulled her aching body up.

"I guess I can't blame you. You did miss half the day. Come on, I want to get a seat in the very back, makes for a speedy getaway." Claire was already out the door, staring back at her friend with her hands on her hips, impatiently tapping her foot.

"You go ahead and reserve me a seat. I just need to go to the washroom." Cara said, hoping to walk to the gym at a slower, less painful pace.

"Fine, but don't be too long," Claire said before jogging away.

Taking her sweet time, Cara turned a 5-minute walk to the gym into 10 minutes, but even then, that was still an exhausting mission. Soon she was seated next to Claire with the rest of the students as they waited for the presenter.

The gym was in a state of chaos. Everyone talked over the other. But this was not a surprising thing considering it was the last period of the day and the events of last night.

When Cara looked over the stage, she was surprised, seeing a banner with the Racoon police department STARS name on it. Great, it was another talk with the cops, most likely about drugs and whatnot.

"Hey, maybe your brother is here,"

"Chris? He would've told me,"

A throat clearing next to the speaker's podium failed to get the attention of the kids. It was followed by a very authoritative "Attention,"

Cara never experienced so much power put into a single word, but it was loaded, and it succeeded in forcing everyone to smack their lips shut.

For a few seconds, she was staring but unable to focus, her muscles tensed, ready to make a break for it. She held her breath, slid down her seat, covered her face with a curtain of hair, and for added measure, she put her head down. She hoped to stay hidden in the crowds of students.

It was Albert Wesker at the podium, hands resting on the edges. His eyes didn't have to scan the crowds for long, finding her easily. Her attempt to hid was adorable but in vain. He could track down men in another country given extraordinarily little info, and the foolish little thing thought she could hide in a measly crowd of 1200 hormone-riddled teens.

"I am Captain Albert Wesker of STARS, and five days ago, there had been an unfortunate, unfortunate accident. Maxwell Robford was barely five years older than many of you. Driving while drunk, he ended up wrapped around a tree and was incinerated along with his car. That road wasn't popular, and it would take days for someone to stumble across the wreck and give us a call. We could only recover a pile of ashes and bones to return to his family. Our hearts go to them. I'm here on behalf of STARS to urge you to stop drinking and driving because the next incident may not only result in us digging out your corpses but those of others. The morgue is no place for people so...young. That's all from me, and now my partner will add a few more words." Wesker stepped away from the podium, nodding as the other uniformed officer took over. The next speaker struggled to calm the students, who all at once started talking about the accident.

"That’s so terrible. I feel so bad for his family," Claire said, leaning her head back.

"Yeah..." Cara answered absentmindedly, unable to take away her eyes from the crooked officer. She was angry that he could come to her school and pretend to be an officer of the law concerned for the futures of the kids in the room. If anything, she could bet all the money she had that the kid died because of a foul. Maybe, Wesker himself arranged the scene before it was supposedly...discovered. Perhaps that poor kid saw something he shouldn't have and paid the price. And maybe she'll also end up in an unfortunate accident sooner or later. The thought of that sent the bile straight up. She rocked herself, mind reeling with the possibility.

"I'm going to the washroom," Cara said quietly, her voice unusually thick as she could not push the lump down. Raising from her seat, she rushed out of the gym, feeling the world closing in on her. She was barely aware of Claire calling out to her and the man on the stage who followed her with his eyes.

Completely bypassing the washroom, Cara burst through the school's back doors before throwing her back against the garbage bins, sliding to the floor. The stench didn't register as her brain tricked her into thinking she could smell burning flesh. Thinking about what the kid must have felt while burning up, she shut her eyes tightly, unable to handle such imagery. She didn't try to control her sobs, letting them overpower her without caring about who was watching.

Someone was watching, and they were amused.

"You know, it's rude to walk out while a speaker is presenting. We take the time out of our boorish days to speak to a bunch of idiots who won't hang onto a single word we say. A complete and utter waste of time." Wesker spoke, walking around the garbage can to look down at Cara. The silence came sharply as she noticed his presence. It was hard to believe the girl cowering in the corner was the same person who risked her life to protect his little Sherry.

"Did you kill him?" Cara whispered, her puffy eyes finding his.

"Who?" standing in front of her, Wesker squatted down to her level.

"You know who I am talking about."

"Still in the mood for asking questions? Do you think he will be more alive having that knowledge?" Wesker reached over with a gloved hand to push the hair away from her face, enjoying the complete mess she was. The girl was like this because of him, and he loved having that power. He didn't have to do a thing to get to her. Merely show up.

" I didn't say anything to anyone, I swear. Please just leave me alone." Her voice was octaves higher, uncaring when it fragmented at the end. Even if someone heard her, she doubted they would help. The decorated officer can make up a story more likely believable than a word out of her mouth. She was alone and wholly regretted leaving the gym. Cornering herself, she practically led him to her.

"Our encounters will only end once I say so. Now, answer this. Why were you limping?" Wesker watched as she flinched when his hand came to rest on her injured leg. He found this development displeasing. Someone trespassed on his right to be the only one to hurt her, to use her, to kill her. And correction was in order.

[janetbrown711]

“I ask myself what did I do to get as far as I’ve gotten…”

Evelyn Covey had practically planned out her life for the next couple of years. Sure, she was just in seventh grade, but that meant she was close to highschool, which is close to college, which is close to the rest of her life, and soon enough she’ll be dead. Planning everything out in her life hadn’t been her first idea, but her mom and dad insisted she and Eric plan things out. After all, they were heirs to a pretty large fortune, they had to be careful what they did. 

Basically, Evelyn planned to be head of the yearbook committee in middle school so she’d easily climb up the ladder in high school to be head by, at the earliest, sophomore year, then become head of the student council by at least junior year. Senior year would be more reasonable but, as her mother put it, “my children are exceptional, not reasonable”. She would also be head of the dance team and become a master of point ballet so she’d be several years ahead of her class by the time she gets into Julliard and before she knows it she’s Prima Ballerina just like her mother. Also, at some point soon she was supposed to start dating, but only rich boys that were approved of by her mother. 

Along the way, she was supposed to make friends with powerful people’s children and use them to her advantage. For the most part, Evelyn was good at that, with a few exceptions (Odette Jefferson, for one). Evelyn had a pretty tight squad and was pretty well-liked, and she was even cool with Eric and his sporty guy friends who were supposed to help him with his future. 

However, there was one friend that was completely unpredicted and probably a liability in the eyes of her mother, and her name was Hazel. 

Evelyn had no idea what really drew her to Hazel. She was the cousin of one of her dad’s business partners (and a very powerful one at that, but for reasons beyond Evelyn’s knowledge, she and Eric weren’t close to) but she knew she definitely wasn’t rich like Selena. She was nervous and kinda dorky. She always wore a scrunchie with a messy curly ponytail. She was naturally beautiful, which was all the odder as Hazel didn’t even seem to notice it. In fact, Hazel seemed to always be hiding in a sweater of some sort. Needless to say, Hazel was nothing that Evelyn was used to. Maybe that was it...

She knew that her mom would probably not approve of their friendship, but after the fall formal dance, Evelyn found herself hanging out with Hazel more and more. They didn’t have the same lunch, but Evelyn would find her after school and they’d chat for a little bit, and Evelyn sat near Hazel whenever possible during science and PE. She knew it was suspicious, especially to her friends, but Hazel was just... enticing. 

Her smile, her eyes, her laugh, the way she drummed her fingers on her desk when she was thinking, the way she would just ramble on and on until she caught herself... she was... 

Evelyn thought Hazel was cute, but she didn’t admit that to herself often. It didn’t matter, she had ‘the plan’ to think about. Grades, friendships, eventual relationships, her whole future couldn’t fall apart because Evelyn thought maybe that one girl was kinda cute. 

However, despite the little warning voice inside her head, she had invited Hazel and her cousin (Hazel never went anywhere without Selena) to her and Eric’s 13th birthday party. If anyone asked, Evelyn would say Selena was the daughter and future heiress of Louie Inc. and despite not being big in the social circles, she was still important and her cousin was just a tag along. Eric knew better, of course, but her friends (and more importantly, her mother) bought it. 

Anyway, that was how she got to the present moment; at her house eating pizza with her group of friends- plus Eric and Selena- with Hazel in the corner on Evelyn’s window seat, reading something on her phone, and the rest of her friends gossiping and playing games while also posting to Duckigram.  

“Enjoying the party?” Evelyn asked, taking a bite of her pizza. 

“O-oh yeah! Totally!” Hazel blushed and laughed. “J-just a little tired is all.”

“I get it,” Evelyn gave her a smile, which seemed to relax her. “Selena’s kinda a natural, I didn’t expect her to click with all my friends that well, since she doesn’t really know them and all,” Evelyn commented. 

“Oh yeah, she’s very amicable like that,” Hazel nodded. “She just chooses not to get involved in popularity contests- n- no offense or anything-!” Hazel bit her tongue. 

“No, it’s cool, I get it,” Evelyn chuckled. “I get a little tired of it too sometimes, but I find my own ways to cope.” Hazel nodded in tired agreement. 

“Here- you wanna go outside?” Evelyn stood and set down her plate on a nightstand. 

“Y-you wanna leave the party?” Hazel glanced over at Evelyn’s friends. 

“Psh, they’ll be fine. We’ll breathe just for a minute, it’ll be fun,” Evelyn offered her hand. When Hazel glanced at it, she realized how stupid the gesture was and was about to pull away when Hazel took it and Evelyn helped her up. The two snuck out of the room and eventually made their way to the balcony. The night air had done exactly what Evelyn had hoped, Hazel seeming to relax in an instant. 

“This is pretty cool,” Hazel said, remarking on the fairy lights wrapping around the ledge, giving the balcony a nice soft glow. 

“Thanks,” Evelyn said, going to the rail and leaning on it. Hazel joined her. 

“You can practically see all of Duckburg from here,” She said, eyes shining like diamonds as she looked out. 

“Yep yep,” Evelyn found herself lacking anything else to say, so she just took a deep breath. 

“Are you okay?” Hazel asked, which made Evelyn blush a little. 

“Yeah, I’m just a little more tired than I realized,” She chuckled. 

“I feel you,” Hazel nodded. 

“You know, I think you should consider yourself lucky that you weren’t born into all this. There’s so much politics involved in every single friendship and party, it’s honestly one big headache,” Evelyn rubbed her arms and leaned more on the ledge. “I can’t even count the number of times I’ve just sat and wondered what the heck I’ve ever done to get as far as I’ve gotten... It’s hard to tell what’s real and what isn’t.”

“W-well I’m sure it’s not all bad. I mean, you do have a lot of friends. That’s nice,” Hazel said. 

“It’s hard to tell if they’re genuine or not though. A lot of my friends were simply formed because of our parents,” Evelyn said. “Not you though! You’re a lot different than most of my friends.”

“What do you mean?” Hazel questioned. 

“Not in a bad way-! I-i mean... you’re actually pretty cool. I choose you to be my friend, you know?” Evelyn cursed internally. Hazel smiled a little. 

“T-thanks. You’re pretty cool too,” Hazel said. Evelyn felt her heart give a flutter. 

“Thanks,” She smiled. They looked at each other for quite the moment, before returning their gaze to the city. Evelyn took a sip of her soda.

“You know... you’re really pretty. Have you ever been told that?” Evelyn asked, realizing it was a pretty stupid question to ask someone only after she said it. 

“I mean- outside of my dad and great aunt and uncle and Selena? No, not really,” She said, scratching the back of her neck. 

“It’s true, you’re really... really pretty,” Evelyn glanced at Hazel, but their eyes met, and they went back. 

“Thanks,” Hazel smiled more. “You’re really pretty too.”

Evelyn felt her heart do a summersault. 

“Th-thanks,” She said, turning her face away as she felt herself become a blushing mess. 

There was a moment of silence between the two, minus the ambiance of the night and the background music of the party not too far away. However, it wasn’t unbearable, in fact, it was relaxing. Just two girls enjoying each other's company on a cool Friday night... 

“Evelyn..?” Hazel asked. 

“Yes?” Evelyn responded, turning to her. 

“Y-you don’t... I-i mean... Do you...? I-...” Hazel couldn’t get the words out. 

“What do you mean?” Evelyn tilted her head a little. Hazel glanced at her before shaking her head. 

“N-nevermind. Forget I asked anything,” Hazel shook her head. Evelyn decided it was probably best she didn’t push and left it at that, taking another sip of her soda. 

“You know... I’ve never really been to a birthday party outside of my family,” Hazel said. 

“Oh?” Evelyn said. 

“Yeah... and I know that sounds a little stupid, but... I’m not the best at making friends... so... I just want you to know... I appreciate you. A lot,” Hazel said, facing Evelyn. 

“I appreciate you too Hazel,” Evelyn said, suddenly aware of how close they were. She looked into Hazel’s eyes and Hazel looked right back. 

“Y-yeah... I get really shy and quiet around people, a-and you’ve really helped me reach out and grow, even if it’s j-just a little. I never would’ve dreamed of this last year,” Hazel said, leaning in a little.

“You’re really cool Hazel, I’m lucky to know you,” Evelyn replied. Hazel blushed a little. 

Just then, Evelyn closed her eyes, leaned in, and kissed her.  

To her surprise, it felt good. Really good. It was better than any kiss Evelyn had ever had before. Those countless dares she had taken with her friends were nothing compared to this.

However, right after the moment passed, both girl’s eyes snapped right open, and they jumped away from each other in shock. 

“H-hazel- I-”

“Hey, Evelyn, where’ve you- oh hey Hazel. What’s going on here?” Eric appeared on the balcony door right on time. Hazel turned away. 

“Nothing much,” Evelyn cleared her throat to quickly get a grip on herself, though her heart was pounding a thousand miles a minute. “We were just about to head back, right?” she said, turning to Hazel. 

“Y-yeah,” Hazel said, still not able to look at her. Evelyn’s smile fell. 

‘Great job Evelyn, you just screwed up the best friendship you’ve ever had,’ Evelyn facepalmed internally. Silently, the three of them went back to the party and Evelyn did her best to act like it didn’t happen. 

It wasn’t easy though, as a voice in the back of her mind kept screaming at her. 

‘You’re such an idiot. Hazel doesn’t like you like that! Now she hates you.’

‘You can’t like Hazel, this isn’t with the plan. Mom will totally kill you.’

‘What the hell is wrong with you?! Who kisses a person they barely know?’

‘You can’t risk your future like this.’

‘None of your friends would approve.’

‘How do you even know what love is? You’re thirteen. You can’t like someone like that, especially a girl.’

‘Mom is gonna kill you.’

‘That was a mistake.’

‘You’re such an idiot.’

Evelyn wished she could just turn her brain off. 

Eventually, Hazel asked if she and Selena could leave. Evelyn managed a nod, expecting that. They left not long after that, and it was safe to say the rest of the party felt like a waste. Evelyn’s mind was eating itself alive and she wished she could take back the whole thing. 

But Evelyn knew she couldn’t. Sooner or later... this was going to have to address itself again. The thought wasn’t comforting; it only got her thinking about how her friends and family would react, which filled her soul with dread. 

So for the present moment, it was a lot easier to deny the truth. She just... couldn’t risk what she had built; what she was going to build. She had her whole future, she couldn’t just... drive it all off the rails. Not right now. 

She was just confused... there wasn’t anything really there. And even if there were, it couldn’t be worth it... right? 

Evelyn took out her phone and gave Hazel a quick text. 

“I’m sorry for everything” and sighed. She hadn’t meant to screw this up so badly... 

Hazel read the text but didn’t respond. 

Evelyn pressed the phone against her forehead, cursing herself for being an idiot. 

Evelyn added: “We can pretend it never happened if you want”

Hazel started to type, but after a long moment, stopped. Eventually, she gave the message a thumbs up. Evelyn groaned internally. She hated this, she never wanted to make Hazel feel bad, and yet... she sighed. 

Then again... maybe it’d be easier this way. Evelyn could just move on and pretend it never happened. Their regular old friendship would return in no time and everything would be fine and as planned. Evelyn would just play the part she was always meant to, and she’d move on and everything would just be okay. After all, she was only 13, none of this meant anything. 

“Evelyn, you good?” Eric asked, noticing her worried looks. Evelyn glanced around to see if anyone was paying attention to her, which no one was. 

“I screwed up,” she sighed. “But I’ll fix it, it’ll be fine... it has to be,” she muttered the last part under her breath. Eric gave her a sympathetic look but didn’t push further than that, which was good. Evelyn wasn’t sure how well she’d be able to hide this from him. He was her twin after all. 

That didn’t change anything though. This whole... Hazel thing was against the plan, so Evelyn would just pretend it never happened, keep being her friend and move on. 

She had to.

[dana-sculy]

Vive ut Vivas - Chapter Four

chapter one / chapter two / chapter three

In this chapter, we see the story under Mulder's perception. We also get to see Scully in a non-usual manner, as she gets a little too drunk and deviates from the strict, serious agent she is around Mulder. This was a really nice chapter to write, with a lot of interaction between our loved pair. The rest of it is up to you to find out 😊

tagging @today-in-fic  (To read it in AO3, come here)

2630 Hegal Place Alexandria - 9:00 p.m.

I wake at the feeling of a cold breeze of air coming from outside. I can’t remember falling asleep in the first place. The only light in my apartment comes from the glow light of the fish tank and from the TV I clearly left aside after some minutes of the movie I rented for the weekend.

9 p.m., shows the clock on my table. Fuck.

My legs are numb, in a clear protest of the way I was laying in the tiny empty space on my couch. I stretch them like a cat, eyes closing again as I decide to attempt at going back to sleep.

Five minutes later and the only thing I manage to get is tossing and turning around restlessly. It seems useless. I stare at the ceiling, trying to figure out what to do.

Maybe I should call Scully.

I know she’s staying with her sister, but I haven’t talked with her after she left the bureau. My mind wonders about what the Scully sisters would probably do on a Friday night. Scully is probably as much a loner as I am on weekends, but Melissa seemed like a very different case. Will they play cards sitting on the couch? Or maybe gossip about old friends and share their lives with some generous doses of wine?

I am left with no conclusive answer and even more curiosity. Next thing I realize, I’m already typing her number at the telephone. There’s a long wait until she finally picks it up. To my surprise, the noise in the background is loud between some song being played at wherever my little partner is and also the sound of people talking.

“Heeey, Muller!” – Scully’s voice is giggly on the other side of the line.

My brain has a really hard time processing the fact that Scully sounds very drunk. My pulse quickens its rate, and I feel surprise wash over me like a giant, massive wave. Since the moment I first met Scully, I’ve never seem her drunk, at least, not in a lost-up state like she seems to be at this very moment. She sounds very dangerously sexy. Oh God. I try my best to drive off the thought as fast as it came to my mind.

“Scully, where are you? Are you drunk?” – yeah, Mulder, very intelligent of you to point that out.

“Cut the crap, Muller. I’m havin’ fun.” – she laughs shamelessly. It’s sounds terribly cute.

“Yeah, I can see that. Is Melissa there with you?”

“She’s here.” – She stops to speak and starts talking with somebody else off the phone. Then, shortly after, another feminine voice comes to line.

“Heeey, candy man. Want some tequila?” – Melissa sounds like she’s in a slightly better state than Scully.

“No, thank you. Are you two alright?” – I can hear Scully protesting in the background, especially something that sounded like the words “big girl” and “take care of herself”. She doesn’t give Melissa enough time to answer my question, as she picks up the phone back.

“Listen, Muller, I’m as sober as ‘m gonna get. Wait wait wait” – now Melissa is the one who takes the phone back from Scully.

“Listen, can ya pick us up? I’ll send the address.”

“Sure, just wait for me there, I’ll be on my way.”

Some minutes later, I’m already on motion. The address doesn’t seem hard to find, being in a close neighborhood of my apartment. I catch my keys and give a last glance in the mirror to check out my tall frame. My shirt is the same from earlier in the day, a white one, now unbuttoned at the collar and with rolled up sleeves. It makes a nice contrast with the dark blue trousers I decided to wear at the last moment. For someone who had passed out in the couch not so long ago, I hope I look decent enough. I take a jacket along as well, just in case.

The quietness inside the car contrasts with the cheerful sound of the streets. I try to maintain silence as a desperate effort of encouraging my mind to quiet as well, but it seems to be useless. My thoughts wonder about how I promised Scully not to be protective of her, but right now, I can’t help it. At least I can allege that Melissa did ask me to take them home. It’ll probably turn out to be one of those moments we both pretend that didn’t happen and never talk about it, anyway.

The car’s engine purrs almost soundlessly then comes to a stop as I park in a street with low-rise, brownstone buildings. My long fingers tap softly against the surface of the steering wheel, in a frank expression of what could be either excitement or apprehension. I storm outside, walking towards the place that, according to Melissa’s information, I’ll probably find two very drunk Scullys.

The air gets instantly warmer once on the inside of the pub. My senses register the scents of alcohol, moist and the melding of a variety of colognes. Most people seem oblivious to my presence as I make my way through the crowd, sneaking through the empty spaces further and further to the back of the place.

It’s not hard to notice the absence of the two redheads my attentive eyes eagerly search for. Their hair would be a visible telltale, even in this crowded place. I stand still for a while, trying to spot the whole space again, making myself sure that I didn’t miss anything. To my left, past a set of tables disposed in the pub, I notice wooden stairs leading above. I turn on my heels and follow my way upstairs.

As I get to the end of the stairs, I’m immediately welcomed by a soft current of fresh air. This part of the pub, turns out, is basically an open-aired, rooftop bar, with a much smaller wooden countertop where the drinks are served, along with a few bar stools. The darkness of the night is broken by flickering lamps that serve both as illumination and for decorative purposes. The surrounding atmosphere soon entices me in an inviting allure.

Conversations swirl in around the soft smell of drinks that wafts in the open air of this part of the pub. It’s a lot less crowded here and I soon spot Scully and Melissa, whom seem engrossed in a giggly chat. Scully can hardly contain her beaming smile and her laugh sounds almost juvenile. Its sound is delightful, and I feel almost guilt to pry into their private moment.

The sight of it reminds me of our old days, back into the beginning of our partnership, the way she used to smile more freely, and seemed genuinely excited about our cases. After all that’s happened in our lives, in her life, with the loss of her father, with her abduction, it’s good to see her happy like this again, even if it’s due to a temporary state of inebriation.

Before I get to them, Scully’s eyes find mine in the dim light. Her naturally light blue eyes seem even brighter in the dimness. I think of mermaids’ folklore and how she would fit perfectly among them, alluring sailors with a proffer of beauty and pleasure.

My mind has barely time to get back from its musings when Scully approaches me, throwing herself in my arms in a hug. My hands unconsciously find their way to her lower back, a move that became quite natural between us, since we became partners. Her arms come to rest on my chest, as she takes a step back to look up at me. Her eyes devour every detail in my frame, seemingly drawn to my bare forearms, because she traces them with her hands until they reach my pulse. My legs go weak when I notice that the earlier beaming smile of hers is still there, but now I seem to be the cause of it.

“You came!” – She squeaks.

“Yeah.” – is the only answer I manage to give her, as my brain refuses to function since she started to touch me like that and stare at me with glossy eyes.

“Thought you didn’ like outta-home Friday nights.” – her slurred voice comes out, not concealing in the least a tone of enthusiasm that comes with it.

I bend to whisper in her ear – “And I thought you didn’t like to get this drunk, so, we’re even.

“Hey, we have Irish blood.” – It’s only when Melissa speaks that I recall her presence there. Seems that my drunk, touchy partner had me too distracted to pay attention to the other Scully in the room. She moves slightly on her feet, trying to find balance, before adding – “Besides, it was basically just some tequila shots.”

“Mhnm, I see.” – I state with a grin.

No wonder why they’re having trouble to stand on their feet, then.

Some minutes later, we are ready to leave. Outside the pub, the fresh weather previously hanging in the air of the night has gradually become colder, its chilly wind clearly announcing the change, as the hairs on my arm raise. Scully seems to be in a worse state of discomfort with it, I notice, when she shivers and snuggles a little closer to me.

“Here, Scully, take my coat.” – I don’t wait for a reply as I’m already placing it around her shoulders when she speaks.

“But Muller, you’ll be cold.” – Her breath comes out in white-puffed clouds.

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” – I quietly stick my hands inside my pockets, in seek of a source of warmth, hopeful that Scully didn’t notice it. Otherwise, she would instantly hand me back my coat. Melissa does notice my move, though, with a playful smile in her lips, even though she tries her best at hiding it by gluing her stare to the floor.

She joins her sister and entangles their arms together, walking unsteadily side by side in the cobbled street. – “Never go out without a coat, Danes. You never know if you have yeer man candy ‘round to help you. – She slurs. – You forgot to mention he was also a gentleman.”

I’m pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to hear that. My face gets warm at this piece of information, a smile tugging without permission in my lips. Does Scully think I’m attractive? We’ve certainly been stealing glances here and there, but it was never something we openly discussed.

I risk looking at Scully, who, even drunk, manages to give her sister a prefect shut-up-or-I’ll-kick-your-ass look. She fails to hide her flushed cheeks, though. It’s too adorable.

A couple of minutes later, after a short trip and some brief instructions from Melissa, I park the car in front of a range of lofty buildings. Before I get out, I take a discreet side glance towards both of them from the driver’s seat and, to my relief, neither seem to be ill from the excess of alcohol.

My thoughts of comfort die as soon as I hear a loud thud. In Scully’s attempt at rising on her feet and getting out of the car – terribly unsuccessful over the state of dizziness she was clearly in – she ends up hitting her head right at the door.

“Shit, Scully, are you all right?” – I run to her, checking for any sign of wounds. Her hands instinctively go to her forehead, and when she lowers them, I see red droplets on her fingers.

“Damn it, you’re hurt!” – I place my hands around her shoulders to help her steady herself, scanning her face for any other injuries. If she’s in pain, she doesn’t show. Once the alcohol leaves her system, though, I bet she will be.

“Hey, Muller, don’t be sooo frowny. I’m a doctor, ya know?” – Scully answers me in defense, holding my face with her palms, forcing me to look at her, and then winks, as if that could make her point more clear.

“Well, I’m no doctor, Scully, but that needs to be cleaned and bound.”

Melissa, meanwhile, who’d been blindly searching her purse for the apartment keys, finally raises her hand with little coordination and a triumphant face, then grimaces when she turns to me and Scully. – “I might have some bandages at home.” – she slurs – “Can’t you come inside and help me with her, Fox?”

“Sure.” – I say, relieved that she invited me. There’d be no chance I would leave Scully drunk, with a head injury and her sister to care for themselves in this state.

Melissa makes her best to lead me to her floor once we enter her building. She goes ahead in clumsy steps, pressing level 11 once we enter the elevator. I give a side glance to the mirror and realize I’m still holding Scully’s hand. I don’t remember taking her hand in the first place at all. With my worry for her, it’s almost an unconscious act, to keep her close to me where I can know she’s alright.

She seems to enjoy it too much, as her eyes follow mine in the mirror and then go back to my face with a smirk. Her fingers disentangle from mine and start to follow their path upwards, until she has her hands in my chest. This sudden move catches me off guard, and once I realize, I’ve already let out an audible and very inappropriate gasp. Shit. My partner gets very touchy and flirtatious when she’s drunk. I take a mental note about that, you know, for further occasions.

Scully gets triumphant at the power she seems to have just discovered she has on me. She slowly travels one hand downwards this time, almost reaching my waistband when I stop her. I have to fight my best to breathe deep, long breaths and control the sudden awakening happening between my thighs. God help me if she keeps doing this tonight.

“Ahem” – Melissa coughs, a smirk plastered on her face showing more curiosity than embarrassment about mine and Scully’s current “situation”. – “This is my floor.”

I let out a breath and get my way out of the tiny space of the elevator almost too fast. Luckily, this time, Melissa is already holding the right key, taking no time to open the apartment door.

Their previous state of exhilaration seems to be gradually turning into lethargy, I notice. –  “I, uh… I’m gonna get the… stuff, to help Danes.” – Scully’s sister tells me, flush faced and seemly confused, before leaving me and Scully alone in her living room.

“Muller, I feel painful.” – Scully faces me with contorted eyebrows and an adorable pout. Even in my state of worry for the visible wound in her forehead, I can’t suppress a smile at the way she looks at me. I embrace her tiny frame in a gentle hug, holding her cheeks in my palms before speaking.

“You’ll be fine, Scully. I’ll take care of you.”

“You know, mom used to tell me there’s one thing that could heal any pain in the world.” – despite the unpretentious way she tells me this, her fiery eyes stare at me with a clear lust that I’ve never seen before in my partner.

I swallow hard. Assuming by the way she’s looking at me, I’m mostly sure that whatever she’s up to will throw caution out of limits for the sake of both of us. – “And what would that be, Scully?”

She doesn’t answer me. Instead, she holds my collar and pulls me down, standing on her tiptoes as she plants a lavish kiss on my lips. It catches me totally by surprise, but at the same time that my mind is in shock, the rest of my body is fully awake. She holds onto me for balance completely, fingers grabbing the hairs of my neck and bringing her body closer, which, as a result, causes her hips to rub against my pelvis. I can’t control the gasp or either the moan that escapes my lips. She takes advantage of it, accessing my mouth thoroughly. It’s what takes to send me over the edge.

Our tongues slide in perfect harmony as we taste each other’s mouths, as if we’d been doing it our whole lives. I cradle her head in my hands, pulling her even closer to me, kissing her in every way possible. It scares me how wildly passionate it gets. I can’t think of anything other than the vanilla smell of her hair, or the way she’s making me see stars right now, the taste of tequila still in her lips… tequila. Oh, fuck.

Scully’s drunk. Way too drunk to have any control of her actions. I shouldn’t be doing this, surrendering to her actions towards me, even if it’s the only thing I wish for right now. I gather all the reminiscent willpower I can find, and break the kiss, foreheads pressed against each other as we both pant. I open my eyes and see that she’s already staring at me with an unreadable look.

“I’m sorry, Scully.” – The words taste bitter in my throat.

Backing away from her enough to draw some personal space between us, my breath catches in my throat at how stunning she looks right now: cheeks flushed, fuzzy hair, her soft, rosy lips still parted breathing for air. She looks like a flower in full bloom.

I feel her eyes scanning me. – “Are you?”

Melissa returns to the room before I get to reply, carrying a medicine kit and some painkillers. – “There we go.”

The awkwardness is palpable in the air. She stares at her sister, then at me, trying to fill in the blanks that weren’t there before, but ends up not saying anything on the matter, whatever the conclusion she comes to.

“Would you, uh… like anything, Fox? Coffee, tea?” – She says, a little embarrassed.

“Some water would be good, thank you Melissa.”

I feel relieved once she goes to the kitchen, leaving me and Scully alone again. I feel equally frustrated and scared for not being able to read her thoughts at the moment. The last thing I want is for her to feel rejected, but this isn’t how things should go. My clouded judgement makes my brain struggle more than it should in finding the right thing to tell my partner.

“Dana.” – I step closer to her, holding her gaze as I do so. I can’t discern between sadness and longing, but she seems to relax considerably as I come to hold her hands in mine. The pout is back to her mouth, which makes me smile. – “When I said I was sorry, I didn’t mean… that it was bad or offending. I just think you should have a conscious choice if you ever decide to do that.” –  I tell her, drawing out the ‘that’ for longer than usual to emphasize my point.

“Muller, being drunk doesn’t make me a fool.” – She’s smiling too now.

“Did it work? Did it help with your pain, after all?”

“At the moment it did, yeah.” – She stares me with a goofy face.

Melissa returns from the kitchen carrying two glasses of water in slightly shaky hands. She gives one to me and the other to Dana without any accident, fortunately, seemly more confident of herself to be able to do that in her current drunk state.

“Here’s your water, Fox. – she tells me and then directs to Scully – Take the painkillers, they can help a lot with the pain.”

“So do other things.” – Scully attempts at whispering to me, but it comes out a little louder than anticipated. If the warmth on my face is from the heat inside the apartment, or from the intrigued gaze Melissa directs me, there’s really no way to tell.

It doesn’t take so long for us to clean and dress Scully’s wound. Turns out, my partner is one of those doctors who are flawless on their job, but terrible as patients. She winces the entire time, pushing my hand away as I wipe the wound gently. She swallows all her water and the painkillers, seemly better than before.

“I guess my doctor activities end here.” – I wink at them both as I rise on my feet. – Are you two going to be okay on your own?”

Melissa comes closer to me, staggering a little and holding my shoulder for balance. – “Yeah… Thanks for everything, Fox. We can handle ourselves for now.”

“No problem. I’ll be on my way then.” – I walk myself to the door, stopping on my tracks and turning around to face them before I get to leave. – “Just call me, in case you need anything.”

I’m already in the hallway when Scully follows me out. – “Hey, Muller.” – Her fingers play with the hem of her blouse. – “You forgot your coat.” – She tells me, said coat still hanging around her shoulders.

I slowly remove it from her, fingers brushing her arms as I do so, causing her to shiver. Her petite frame seems even smaller being this close to mine. I am left with a desire to hug her, to keep her like this: close to me.

Seems that neither of us is in a hurry to leave the other, since we both stand there, holding each other’s gaze. Her body heat is so intense that I can feel its waves crashing right through me. The dim light of the hall casts a glow in her blue eyes, and it’s hard not to get lost in them. I can still remember the taste of her lips in my own.

“Good night, Scully.” – I do my best to resist my thoughts and behave.

She traces my bare forearms with her fingers and makes a too-adorable puppy face. – “It’s no good since you’re leaving. Muller, you’re no fun.”

“You’ll thank me in the morning, Scully.” – I brush a strand of hair out of her forehead and kiss it, gently. – “See you on Monday.”

It’s past midnight when I drive my way back home through cobblestone streets. If I wasn’t sober, I’d definitely think I was dreaming. Not even once in my partnership with Dana, I’ve seen her look at me like tonight, let alone do something like this, and I’ve been very flirtatious and teasing at times. Could it be true? Could we be both feeling desire dangerously reaching a point of no return?

If only desire were the sole thing I felt for this woman. I never expected much outside of our partnership when we were assigned to work together. I didn’t even expect it to last. A good looking woman, smart head, a career to build and sent to debunk me. How could it work? Yet, we’ve matured a friendship that is bigger than any other relationship I’ve ever had in my life. Now, I wonder if that friendship might be growing to something more.

I try to distract myself by turning on the radio on my ride home, just in time to hear “Temptation”:

“And I try to be rational

And I try to be wise

But it all gets blown to pieces

When I look in her eyes”

It seems that there is no escape out of fate tonight, the inevitable prospect that it will be a long, restless end of night.

[queerchoicesblog]

One Night At The Moulin Rouge

Hiya, folks! So, as previously announced, the wlw writing project continues after a break with a miniseries set back in the City of Lights - & Love - at the time of the Belle Epoque, at the turn of the century.

The story begins with an introductory chapter dedicated to our main character, Léa, our young seamstress finally makes it to “The First Palace of Women”, the Moulin Rouge. What does the night have in store for her?

Hope you enjoy it: if you do, please consider spreading the word!

Next chapter out on Friday: double update this week!

Tagging: @scottishqueer

Previous chapter: Paris, Paris 

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He shouts at our friends behind us and we sprint off into the night. I lift my skirt and laugh as the streets and buildings around us change and we make our way through the crowd of the boulevards running as if our lives depended upon it. A passerby even asks us if we were in danger: we laugh again in full response and the old man shakes his head, muttering something about how foolish modern day youth is. When we finally spot the red windmill, we're out of breath. My lungs burn and my heart is hammering in my chest but...what a fun we have already had! Marcel pushes his way to the crowd gathered outside and shows the ticket to a steward, panting. "The show has already started" he announces, giving us an unreadable look, half annoyed half amused. We all exchange a look. It's Alain who speaks: "Then why don't you let us in so we won't miss the rest?"

I did my best to refrain a snort right in the face of the steward, who apparently notices it. Eventually, he steps aside and let us in, informing that the cloakroom is on the left. We ignore it completely, too concerned to miss the show and head straight to the dance hall. The place is packed and...stunning. I gasp at the sight of the gorgeous extravagant decors and the rows of table with gentleman and even some ladies all dressed up and sipping what looks like expensive champagne. It's like stepping into a....dream. Marcel snaps me out our my dreamlike state placing a glass into my hand. When I look at him, he nods to the table in front of us: whoever is sitting there is not here at the moment and my cheeky friend just stole their glasses, one for me, one for him. I'm about to playfully chastise him when he gestures to keep quiet and pulls my hand, moving forward into the crowd. I follow him careful not to spill my drink and we surf the crowd until we find a free standing spot by one of the columns, behind the rows of tables but with a good view of the stage. We cling our glasses giggling and take a big gulp. The champagne is cold yet burns down my throat after our mad run. I like it though: I've never had champagne before, too expensive. A woman is singing a catchy song on stage, strumming a little guitar while a couple of dancers make their long skirts twirl in the background. The lyrics are bright and a little facetious, eliciting rounds of laughters among the audience. With a sultry smirk, the singer starts the refrain and the orchestra joins. The song must be popular among the audience since everyone immediately starts singing along and whistling. I think I've heard it too, can't remember where though. The standing spectators like us attempt to dance and I find myself aching to move freely to the tune too but there's little space in our corner. Marcel and I sway on our feet and I catch the singer winking at us from the stage. Her performance ends too soon and is welcomed with rounds of enthusiastic applauses from the audience. The singer and the dancers flash smiles to everyone and make practised reveries. Before disappearing behind the velvet at the bottom of the stage, the singer examines the audience with a playful look and speaks loud enough to be heard even by us in the last rows. She invites us all to save our enthusiasm for the next act because, according to her, the best is yet to come. "Are you ready for la quadrille?" she asks. Everyone goes wild cheering and whistling. Marcel is one of them. We exchange an excited look: la quadrille is the main attraction of the Moulin Rouge! Only the most talented and gorgeous dancers perform it or so I've heard. Our eyes converge back to the stage when the notes of Offenbach resound through the auditorium. My breath catches when a multitude of girls in titilatting colourful costumes takes the stage and hold up their skirts to perform the most extravagant choreography I have ever seen. Well, I've seen the can-can already in ballrooms but those were amateurs compared to these ladies. They rise their knees high and make a quick rotatory movement before holding their ankle and rising their leg vertically while turning on the other leg. I cannot fathom how they can do it and with a charming smile on their faces...the dance may be scandalous to many but they perform with such grace it's a joy for the heart and eye. The rhythm is furious, joyful and we all soon clap our hands to the beat: it's contagious! A male dancer make his entrance too out of the crowd of women and I'm pretty sure he's an acrobat or a contortionist because I have never seen a single soul jump so high and walking backwards with his head between his legs...it's crazy! The dancers continue their routine with a cheerful grace out of this world. They line up in a long row and make us go wow with a stunning series of cartwheels and splits. They remind me of the breathtaking fireworks we saw at the opening night of the Exposition Universalle in March. With a bit of luck we managed to get a ticket and be there....what a night! Fireworks bathed in the new Tour Eiffel and for a moment it looked like it was day in the middle of the night. There was a magic show that evening, I remember: I ducked like a fool behind Marie when the blindfolded magician threw daggers in his poor assistant's direction. These dancers are like those fireworks. I don't even pay too much attention to the fact that their undergarment is showing as they dance...I laugh to myself thinking I must be too used to female undergarments working as a seamstress. But I let out a loud gasp when they kick the high hats the spectators of the first row are holding out with the tip of their boots. A playful yet skilled high kick that make the hat fly high before landing back on their owners head. When the act ends with a last round of splits, I'm in awe. Dizzy, so dizzy it takes me a moment to clap my hands and cheer loudly just like the spectators around me. The dancers leave the stage among thunderous applauses. "That was incredible!" I comment and Marcel agrees enthusiastically. I look around to see if I can spot Marie and Alain but I have no luck. The acts are over for the night and the spectators crowding the room takes their time drinking and smoking, Marcel gestures me to follow him. The lovebirds are nowhere in sight so I take his hand. He leads us to the other side of the room right into the backstage area. "I don't want you to be all alone among those drunks" he explains, guiding me forward down a corridor. "And I'd like to introduce you to my friend" He stretches his neck out and after a moment he waves to another young man smoking by a door open on the street. "Lucien, you old dog! Come, Léa, this way!" The musician waves at us too and loosens up his tie. He pulls Marcel into a manly hug and vigorously shakes my hand. I thank him on behalf of all of us for his kind gesture and he shrugs. "Marcel's friends are my friends. I hope you guys had some fun tonight" We chat a little then when the boys start bantering with each other and talking of common acquaintances I have never heard of I give them some privacy. I quietly wander down the corridor and take a look around. I rest my back against the wall to free the way and take a deep breath. Who would have known I would sneak into the Moulin Rouge tonight? Me, a humble seamstress from the North. Ah, if only my colleagues or -even better, my so very Catholic mother- could see me now! Marcel outdid himself tonight with such a wondrous surprise...one of the best cabaret theatre in whole Paris! Out of the blue, the door at my side slams open and someone gets pushed out, laughing loudly and sloshing wine over the rim of their glass right onto my dress. "Shit!" I turn towards the voice to find a redhead girl around my age covering her mouth and staring at me. I recognise her: she's one of the dancer who performed la quadrille, her costume is still on, only the corset is loosen up...the door must be the changing room. I gesture that it's nothing even if I'm quite displeased: it's cold out there, November is hardly the best time of the year to go around in wet clothes. When she uncovers her mouth, I notice she's still giggling. "I'm so sorry, I'm awfully clumsy tonight" she apologises. "But blame these ladies who cannot take a single joke!" she adds, raising her voice and banging on the door. All she gets is a round of laughter on the other side that makes her chuckle again, shaking her head. I smile politely, not really knowing what to say nor what is going on. After a moment she takes another look at me and throws me a playfully inquisitive glare. "By the way, what are you doing out of our changing rooms, if I may, mademoiselle? I do not recall seeing you here before...Waiting for someone?" she inquires, nodding at the door. "Oh no! I'm with...him" My eyes instinctively search for Marcel still chatting with his friend. The dancer follows my gaze and sighs. "Ah, I see, your boyfriend..." "What? No!" My words came out a bit blunter than I meant it. When she gives me a surprised look, I feel the sudden urgency to explain myself. "I mean, we're friends. I'm just waiting for him here, to give him space...you know. I didn't know this was the door of the changing room" I cannot quite read the shift in the way she looks at me but there is a certain playfulness in her voice when she raises an eyebrow at me and crosses her arms. "So...he's not your boyfriend" "No and I don't even know why I need to explain myself to you more than I have already did" She shrugs nonchalantly, flashing me a smile. This conversation started off on the wrong foot, I'm standing where I shouldn't be and Marcel is nowhere finished with his friend. If I know him well, by the way he gesticulates he's sharing his "intuitions" about the upcoming races: he has little money but has a granitic faith that one day a miracle will happen and the lucky bet will make him rich. Good old Marcel... Anyway, I better say something to avoid an awkward silence: this dancer somehow twists everything I say in a way that makes me nervous. "We came for the show" Pathetic but I couldn't find anything more original. And that justifies my presence in the backstage area...more or less. The dancer leans to the wall and lazily strokes the rim of her empty glass. "And did you enjoy it?" "Oh yes! I have never seen a dance so lively like this, so catchy, so full of life, so joyous-" "Splits and undergarments-" "It reminded me of fireworks" The dancer looks taken aback by my words for the first time. Surprised, I'd say, as if my reaction came out totally unexpected. "Fireworks?" she repeats. "Yes, like the ones I saw at the Exposition Universelle months ago. Wonderful colourful lights exploding up there in the night sky, a symphony of lights...truly breathtaking" I smile to myself reminiscing. "And tonight la quadrille...I don't know, the lively rhythm, the smiles on your faces as you performed, the colours of your skirts during the cartwheels...it brought me back to that night" The dancer's lips curl into a smile mirroring mine and her whole visage softens. "I've heard many people describing la quadrille but nobody has ever compared it to fireworks like you did" Cocking her head to the side, she takes another look at me. "You're a poet" she smiles. "Oh no, I'm just a seamstress" I laugh. "Nobody has ever taken me for a poet, I'm not good with words" "Well you sound like one to me so to me you are a seamstress-poet" I really don't know what to say again but I feel my cheeks turn rosy as she keeps smiling encouragely at me. We just look at each other for a moment. I'm about to make a joke of how can I be good with words if I'm so easily speechless when "Léa!" Marcel waves at me from the door at the end of the corridor. "I'm sorry I must go now" I say as the dancer spots my friend too. Then before I could do anything, she places one hand on my shoulder. "Hold on a minute, will you?" There is a sudden urgency in her voice as she storms into the changing room ignoring the playful protests of the other ladies inside. I gesture Marcel to wait and he goes lighting another cigarette in the street. The dancer returns after a moment, true to her word. She hands me a handkerchief. "There, for my clumsiness" she says, nodding at the wine stain on my dress I had almost forgotten. "That's kind but there's no need-" "I insist" she smiles, offering it again. "Well, thank you then, mademoiselle..." I reach for it but she retrieves her hand a little. "Huh-uh, I want it back. It's not a gift" she mocks a serious expression. "Of course but..." I soon realise an important detail. "...But I don't even know your name?" She takes my hand and gently places the handkerchief into it. "Élodie. And you know where to find me, Léa" With one last lingering smile she lets go of my hand and wishes me a good night. I walk into the street and the cold of the night makes me shiver. I secure the handkerchief in my pocket and breathe in the mix of icy mist and smoke of Marcel's cigarette. He shakes his head and wraps his scarf around my neck before half hugging me. "We better find the lovebirds and head towards a bar, I bet the streets will get all frosty in no time...fancy a beer?" I throw one last look to the Moulin Rouge over Marcel's shoulder as we walk away and to my surprise I meet the gaze of Élodie, still standing where I left her and looking my way.